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Coldstream GuardsThe Coldstream Guards, one of the longest-serving units of the British army, originated in the regiment of Foot Guards[?] raised by General George Monck in the vicinity of Coldstream[?] in 1659.Originally called the Lord General's (Monck's) regiment of Foot Guards, they derive their popular title, which became their official designation in 1670, from the fact that the army with which Monck restored the monarchy crossed the Tweed[?] into England at the village of Coldstream, and that his troops (which were afterwards, except the two units of horse and foot of which Monck himself was colonel, disbanded) were called the Coldstreamers. Original, even self-contradictory information from the 1911 Encyclopaedia Britannica hand.html">hand.html">hand.html">hand.html">hand on a lion's mane."
"Yes, I'll put my hand on his mane, ere I'll let him mak a beast o'
her feet."
"Haud your whisht," said Christie, very sharply, "he's no to be
said, lifting his hand, "Wull ye let me go, or must I tak my hand till
Flucker's dochter, your auld comrade, that saved your life at Holy Isle,
proudly.
Jean Carnie said afterward, "Her eyes were like coals of fire."
"Ye are doing what nae mon.html">mon.html">mon.html">mon.html">mon i' the toon daur; ye are a bauld, unwise
se/sea.html">sea, to save a ship fra' the rocks, an' will I fear a mon's hand, when I
the puir mon's enemy.html">enemy, the enemy o' mankind, the cursed, cursed drink? Oh,
awa.html">awa your brains!"
"This 's no Newhaven chat; wha lairns ye sic words o' power?"
"A deed mon!"
"I would na/na.html">na wonder, y' are no canny; she's ta'en a' the poower oot o' my
"What's your pleesure, Flucker Johnstone's dochter?"
She instantly withdrew the offending grasp, and, leaning affectionately
bonny haggis hae I for you an' Flucker, an' we'll improve this sorrowfu'
likeit ye weel, Sandy--o' the storrms ye hae weathered, side by side--o'
hae saved at sea, by your daurin an' your skell; an', oh, Sandy, will na
gie awa the sense an' feeling o' a mon for a sair heed and an ill name?"
"I'se gang, my lamb," said the rough man, quite subdued; "I daur say
whimper.
"What's wrang?" said Christie.
"Div ye think my hairt's no in my mooth wi' you gripping yon fierce
pulled Jean by the coats.
"Hets," said Jean, pulling herself free.
The child then, with a pertinacity these little animals have, pulled
he is a lad."
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