quaigh

• “These expressions made it plain that poor Hamish was unconscious that two nights and a day had passed since he had drained the fatal quaigh, and Elspat had now to venture on what she felt as the almost perilous, as well as painful, task of explaining her machinations.”

  Chronicles of the Canongate

• ““Mother,” said Hamish, as he replaced on the table the empty quaigh, “thy drink is pleasant to the taste, but it takes away the strength which it ought to give.””

  Chronicles of the Canongate

• “When his mother saw that he had eaten what sufficed him, she again filled the fatal quaigh, and proffered it as the conclusion of the repast.”

  Chronicles of the Canongate

• “To his surprise, she filled the quaigh with liquor for his parting cup.”

  Chronicles of the Canongate

• “A stoup of wine (for in those days it was erved out from the cask in pewter flagons) was placed on the table, and each had his quaigh or bicker before him.”

  The Bride of Lammermoor

• “I don't have one, which is why, unfortunately, tonight I was unable to hand my friend a quaint quaigh to quaff while she nibbled quahogs.”

  Observation number 547

• “I would not that those days of battle returned; but I should love well to make the oaks of my old forest of Dalgarno ring once more with halloo, and horn, and hound, and to have the old stone-arched hall return the hearty shout of my vassals and tenants, as the bicker and the quaigh walked their rounds amongst them.”

  The Fortunes of Nigel

• “He decanted about one-half of a quart bottle of claret into a wooden quaigh or bicker, and took it off at a draught.”

  Old Mortality

• “The wind, which is very high up in our hills of Judea, though, I suppose, down in the Philistine flats of B. parish it is nothing to speak of, has produced the same effects on the contents of my knowledge-box that a quaigh of usquebaugh does upon those of most other bipeds.”

  The Life of Charlotte Bronte

• “I once got a hansel out of a witch's quaigh myself, -- auld Marion Mathers, of Dustiefoot, whom they tried to bury in the old kirkyard of Dunscore, but the cummer raise as fast as they laid her down, and naewhere else would she lie but in the bonnie green kirkyard of Kier, among douce and sponsible fowk.”

  Stories of Mystery

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