"Ay, there's one of them," remarked Fennel, "of these new works, that abounds with so many Scotch phrases, that hang me if I could make out half a page of it!"

"I beg your pardon, sir, I beg your pardon," said Fennel hastily, "there are many, very many pleasing works of fiction published almost daily, and they are properly appreciated for their variety. I hate, to make use of a homely expression, to see any thing that is like the handle of a jug, all on one side; and I must say, I find too great a sameness in style, situation, and manner, but particularly in language, in these Scotch novels, which are all so dry, tedious, and heavy, that they completely weary me before I can get through the first ponderous volume."

But ah, how prone are we to discover the mote in another's eye, while a beam of magnitude obscures our own sight! Robert Butler was, at the very time that he was so irritable on account of all the attempts at Scotch dialect uttered by the pretty mouth of Alice Fennel, the victim of the most romantic passion that ever could assail the heart and fancy of man since the days of the famed Pygmalion.

"Eh, it could nae be for aught else!" said his daughter; "though I ken many a sonsie auld woman, yet my wee godmither had, for aw the world, the look of an auld brownie , wi' her unkempen locks, and the snood that she wore."
"Do you wish to drive me mad, you confounded young fool?" said Fennel, in great wrath; "speak your own mother tongue: you are worse than the childish old simpleton that I am now thinking of.

I was speaking of my girl, who, while she lives with me, shall not spoil her health, nor lose the bloom for which she is solely indebted to nature, with her sister's late hours: nor indeed does Alice desire to live in that fashionable style; the dear creature had rather be at home with me: she is becoming an intelligent and pleasing companion, since our sojournment in the country; and though she has relapsed a little into her ancient mania of Scotch novel reading, and loves to dress in the Scottish style, yet she has quite done with the dialect; and she does not now read too much;

"Eh nae , my dear feether ," said Alice; "but Miss Macbane sometimes uses the words I am so fond of."
"Recollect," said Fennel, "that it is her native tongue--that till this, her first visit to London, she was never before out of the Highlands of Scotland: but what the plague have you to do with this Scotch jargon? Were not the Scotch characters you saw performed tonight all made to speak good English? and yet the story is true Scotch, not only taken from a romance, but from real historic fact; but if they had, on the English stage, spoken the stuff you utter, the audience would not go away much edified, for I think they would not understand two words out of three."

"Eh, it could nae be for aught else!" said his daughter; "though I ken many a sonsie auld woman, yet my wee godmither had, for aw the world, the look of an auld brownie , wi' her unkempen locks, and the snood that she wore."
"Do you wish to drive me mad, you confounded young fool?" said Fennel, in great wrath; "speak your own mother tongue: you are worse than the childish old simpleton that I am now thinking of.

"Eh nae , my dear feether ," said Alice; "but Miss Macbane sometimes uses the words I am so fond of."
"Recollect," said Fennel, "that it is her native tongue--that till this, her first visit to London, she was never before out of the Highlands of Scotland: but what the plague have you to do with this Scotch jargon? Were not the Scotch characters you saw performed tonight all made to speak good English? and yet the story is true Scotch, not only taken from a romance, but from real historic fact; but if they had, on the English stage, spoken the stuff you utter, the audience would not go away much edified, for I think they would not understand two words out of three."

After she had courteously extended her hand to Mr. Butler, and curtsied in the style of Rob Roy's warlike wife, she turned to her father, and said-- "Jenny Deans will send up"
"Now, 'fore Heaven," interrupted Mr. Fennel, somewhat angrily, "the poor girl's name is Arrowsmith! but, because Jenny happens to be tacked before it, this foolish girl must give her the name of Deans!"
"Why should ye fash yoursel so, feyther ?" said Alice; " ken ye nae that Deans is shorter than Orrowsmythe ; and I was ainly aboot to tell ye , that it were beest ye ganged into the deening parlour, for the haggis will be there direectly ."
"Come along, my dear friend," said Fennel, "if your stomach is not turned, as well as mine.--Oh haggis! haggis! to call a fine dish of calf's liver and bacon by the name of that detestable mess!-- Shall you ever forget our eating haggis once, when we visited Scotland together?--the only time I was ever there, and I never desire to go again. Never, never can I bear to think of that nasty dish."
"Ah , that I had then been born, when ye visited Scotland!" said the young lady.-- "But dinna fash yoursel sic a muckle deal: come, come, and I wull be your elfin female page ;" and away she tripped before them, to lead the way into the dining-parlour; though her form and stature, which rose to the majestic, with her brawny shoulders, but ill agreed with the name she had given herself, or the fairy attitudes she now endeavoured to display.
"Oh, Percival of the Peak !" groaned out Mr. Fennel, "we were ridiculous enough before. --Come, come, Miss Fennel, do the honours of your table in a proper manner, and let me have no more nonsense."

Alice, after surveying him with scorn, said, in the dialect of an old Scotch song, as she turned to her sister ,
"Ah! weel ken I
It's aw envy."

The two fathers gave each other a look of congratulatory triumph, which, however, was soon checked, when they regarded the visible change on Robert's countenance, at the answer that Alice gave him.
"Ah, indeed, my gude sir, ye judge right weel ; and I ken it be as muckle treason as ye will find i'th' 'Legend of Montrose,' or in 'Rob Roy.' 'Fore Heaven, methinks now it fashes me worse than the rebellion of aw the borderers."
Robert's seat became uneasy.-- "I must make her hate me, and get away from her," thought he.-- "My dear Miss Fennel," said he, while he seemed to look on her with more distaste than admiration, "what can possess you to adopt that disagreeable dialect? I positively cannot understand you."
"Eh, that will nae fash me, gude mon !" and up she rose with dignity, and seated herself beside a lady who affected to be as great an enthusiast as herself after all Scotch writings, but who now was only inclined to quiz the poor girl.

"Eh! and ye be ainly breaking your jists ," replied Alice, endeavouring as much as she possibly could to imitate Margaret's accent, but in vain; "it is nae likely, my dear feyther , that ye would marry sic a young lassie , or indeed that ye wull ever marry at aw."

"And I do not fear entering the lists with ony one in his defence," said Alice, endeavouring to imitate, as far as she was able, Margaret's sweet and chastened Scottish accent.
"Bless me!" resumed Miss Southgate, with a faint, sarcastic laugh, "what a reform is here! What is become of your fashing , and your sonsie mon , and all the rest of your muckle, bonnie Scotch ?"
"Hoot awa!" interrupted lady Macbane; " dinna be a'ter casting your gibes, and spearing o' sic matters as ye nae understand; ye mak ten times worse nonsense o' the bonnie Scotch, than e'en the pretty sonsie bairn of the gude and kind-heated master Fennel. Ye had better hawd your tongue, if you dinna speak that your ain mither taught ye ."

"Trash! trash!" almost screamed out Alice, unable to keep silence any longer: "I maun say, I am unco fashed to hear your lack o' gude taste." "Will you speak, Miss Fennel," said Robert, looking at her contemptuously, "so that I can possibly understand you?"
"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Howard, who saw the opposite parties getting rather acrimonious; "I am sure you understand my sister as well as I do; let her do as she pleases, if she thinks proper to talk in such an unpleasant manner."
" Eh , sister," said Alice, " an ye were nae sic a female ere ye became a wife; what wi' my godmither 's marriage, and thou becoming sic a domestic gudewife as are nae seen to tak a buike i' your hond ." "Hold--hold there, Alice!" interrupted Howard; "you are mistaken--your sister does read, I assure you; but her books are well chosen."
"Yes, I ken right weel ," retorted Alice; "I saw on her toilet a buike , that had for its teetle , 'Domestic Cookery' ."
This remark caused a general laugh.
"Yes, you may all laugh," said Howard. "Elizabeth is right to study what every lady ought to know; but she reads other works, I assure you; and several of those she peruses are by the best and most approved writers of fiction, and other light reading; but, my dear saucy sister, she does not make herself a slave to novel-reading: nor does she neglect other authors of ingenious works, to give herself up merely to the study of those produced by one. Neither, my good girl, does she spoil her own native language, to talk a jargon that no one can understand, because she might chance greatly to admire a Scotch writer."
"No," said Robert Butler, "I will venture to say, that what Miss Fennel attempts to speak--or rather, what she affects , I ought to have said, to put together--would puzzle a Scotchman himself to understand; --but, as I," added he, with a quizzing kind of smile, "would wish to comprehend all that a pretty mouth pleases to utter, I should be very much obliged to the young lady to render herself intelligible, when she does me the honour of addressing me."
"As I tauld you ance before, gude sir," said Alice, "it will nae fash me whither ye understond my speech or nae ."
"Exactly so," said Robert, "yet you must pardon me for expressing my surprise at the language you assume; it is part of it Scotch, part old English, part Yorkshire, another part old French, with here and there a word or two of modern London dialect, sparingly enough thrown in, just to give it a zest."

"Oh, madam! you flatter," said Alice; "but I love to be called lassie; do you not admire the Scotch language?"
"I do not," replied Mrs. Hannah, "know one word of the real Scotch language ; but if you mean, as I suppose you do, the manner in which some of the Scotch pronounce English, I must say I do not like it at all; it has, to my ear, as much vulgarity as the coarsest Irish brogue."
"Yet," said Alice, "do not you think, madam, that a little accent, both of the Scotch and Irish, extremely interesting?"
"Very much so, my dear, in the natives of those countries; those who have always been accustomed to the first company, and who try all they can to correct their faulty pronunciation; we therefore feel interested, because their endeavour to speak like ourselves flatters our self-love; but an English person trying to imitate them, is a kind of insulting mimicry; and though such mimicry may proceed from admiration, it only makes the imitator laughed at, and justly. I was told that you were so partial to the Scotch language , as you call it, that you actually mingled it in your conversation; I am happy it is not true. I had rather my friends would be guilty of a little exaggeration, to make an old woman laugh, than that you should be guilty of such an absurdity."
This reproof crimsoned the cheek of Alice, and she was silent; her father blushed also, and spake not a word; while Mrs. Hannah, respecting the feelings of the father, and unwilling to hurt those of the child, suddenly, and adroitly, changed the subject.

Scotch phrases, no doubt, are well understood by you, Miss Macbane, and may interest you, because Scotland is your native country, and you have passed the greatest part of your short life there."
"Oh! all of that life, sir," said she, with a sigh.
"No wonder then," resumed Robert, "that you are aufait to all the dialect which abounds in these modern works, but which I am honest enough to acknowledge I do not understand, and I am sure no cockney miss (here he inadvertently looked towards Alice) can possibly understand it;

"You see, Miss," said Betty, "I've ventured to do as much of my own accord as you mought like I should, a'ter what I heard you say last night. To be sure I arn't such a purfessed cook as Jenny Deans , Miss, I think you call her; but master's much pleased with my cooking, and says how I shall make a very excellent cook in time."
"You do extremely well," said Alice, blushing at her own folly in calling poor Jane Arrowsmith by the name of Jenny Deans, "and you have done exactly as I wished this morning .

Now if there was a dialect that Robert Butler, in the whole world, most cordially disliked, it was the Scotch; even in the mouth of a pretty woman, there was a coarseness in it he could not endure, and it seemed to his nice ear to have not only a barbarous, but a contracted sound: he was always wont to regard extreme nationality and narrowness of mind as synonymous--and we think he was right: he was continually heard to say, when speaking of some recent publications-- "Why will a man of undoubted genius and talent only carry us along, on Fiction's wing, to bleak, uncomfortable, and, to many, uninteresting Scotland; and seek to entertain us with so much of that confounded lingo ? Nay, we are often taken to starve amongst the half-savages of the Orkney or Shetland Isles.--Give me," he would add, " the writer of fiction, who has more variety, as well in change of scene as of character. I want not a Meg Merrilies, thrusting her prophetic witcheries in every Scotch novel that I may chance to dip into."

But to return to Mr. Butler, senior: he reflected on this temper of his son, and sighed deeply as he pondered on it; for the conversation of Alice Fennel was a mere patchwork of quotations, phrases, and ill-pronounced specimens of Scotch dialect--using thee and thou, in imitation of king James, and other characters found only in romance, in the most common conversation; always saying, I ken for I know, mickle for much, wee for little, mon for man ,

Alice Fennel was truly handsome, but her person was too full, and her limbs too decidedly rounded and swelling for his ideas of feminine delicacy: he had seen but very little of her, it is true; and then he knew not what to make of her, as to her manner: her queer pronunciation of Scotch words he thought proceeded from a want of articulation, from a disagreeable impediment in her speech; and he wondered she had not been born dumb, for there was surely some great defect in her organs of speaking: he regarded her person as capable only of pleasing a voluptuary for a very short period, merely during the freshness of her early bloom; but he did not greatly admire it; she seemed, to him, to want no protection from man.

But ah, how prone are we to discover the mote in another's eye, while a beam of magnitude obscures our own sight! Robert Butler was, at the very time that he was so irritable on account of all the attempts at Scotch dialect uttered by the pretty mouth of Alice Fennel, the victim of the most romantic passion that ever could assail the heart and fancy of man since the days of the famed Pygmalion.

Having read through , as she, like several others, called her skipping and skimming over all his enchanting works--most charming to himself, for they have charmed much into his pocket--she turned her perusal to the broadest Scotch novels she could lay her hands on; and yet she had sense enough, in some degree, to laugh at his imitators.
The "Entail, or the Lairds of Grippy," she, however, found delightful, on account of its being so profusely besprinkled with her darling dialect, which helped to fill up many of its pages, to the great edification of us poor cocknies, who, like the gaping ploughman, unable to understand the mountebank's dog-latin, said, how larned he must be, for he could not tell the meaning of one hard word out of twenty that he spoke! Alice was delighted with all this trash of prejudice and nationality, which has lately been palmed upon us.

The two fathers gave each other a look of congratulatory triumph, which, however, was soon checked, when they regarded the visible change on Robert's countenance, at the answer that Alice gave him.
"Ah, indeed, my gude sir, ye judge right weel ; and I ken it be as muckle treason as ye will find i'th' 'Legend of Montrose,' or in 'Rob Roy.' 'Fore Heaven, methinks now it fashes me worse than the rebellion of aw the borderers."
Robert's seat became uneasy.-- "I must make her hate me, and get away from her," thought he.-- "My dear Miss Fennel," said he, while he seemed to look on her with more distaste than admiration, "what can possess you to adopt that disagreeable dialect? I positively cannot understand you."
"Eh, that will nae fash me, gude mon !" and up she rose with dignity, and seated herself beside a lady who affected to be as great an enthusiast as herself after all Scotch writings, but who now was only inclined to quiz the poor girl.

"Trash! trash!" almost screamed out Alice, unable to keep silence any longer: "I maun say, I am unco fashed to hear your lack o' gude taste." "Will you speak, Miss Fennel," said Robert, looking at her contemptuously, "so that I can possibly understand you?"
"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Howard, who saw the opposite parties getting rather acrimonious; "I am sure you understand my sister as well as I do; let her do as she pleases, if she thinks proper to talk in such an unpleasant manner."
" Eh , sister," said Alice, " an ye were nae sic a female ere ye became a wife; what wi' my godmither 's marriage, and thou becoming sic a domestic gudewife as are nae seen to tak a buike i' your hond ." "Hold--hold there, Alice!" interrupted Howard; "you are mistaken--your sister does read, I assure you; but her books are well chosen."
"Yes, I ken right weel ," retorted Alice; "I saw on her toilet a buike , that had for its teetle , 'Domestic Cookery' ."
This remark caused a general laugh.
"Yes, you may all laugh," said Howard. "Elizabeth is right to study what every lady ought to know; but she reads other works, I assure you; and several of those she peruses are by the best and most approved writers of fiction, and other light reading; but, my dear saucy sister, she does not make herself a slave to novel-reading: nor does she neglect other authors of ingenious works, to give herself up merely to the study of those produced by one. Neither, my good girl, does she spoil her own native language, to talk a jargon that no one can understand, because she might chance greatly to admire a Scotch writer."
"No," said Robert Butler, "I will venture to say, that what Miss Fennel attempts to speak--or rather, what she affects , I ought to have said, to put together--would puzzle a Scotchman himself to understand; --but, as I," added he, with a quizzing kind of smile, "would wish to comprehend all that a pretty mouth pleases to utter, I should be very much obliged to the young lady to render herself intelligible, when she does me the honour of addressing me."
"As I tauld you ance before, gude sir," said Alice, "it will nae fash me whither ye understond my speech or nae ."
"Exactly so," said Robert, "yet you must pardon me for expressing my surprise at the language you assume; it is part of it Scotch, part old English, part Yorkshire, another part old French, with here and there a word or two of modern London dialect, sparingly enough thrown in, just to give it a zest."

Scotch phrases, no doubt, are well understood by you, Miss Macbane, and may interest you, because Scotland is your native country, and you have passed the greatest part of your short life there."
"Oh! all of that life, sir," said she, with a sigh.
"No wonder then," resumed Robert, "that you are aufait to all the dialect which abounds in these modern works, but which I am honest enough to acknowledge I do not understand, and I am sure no cockney miss (here he inadvertently looked towards Alice) can possibly understand it;

In about three days after the arrival of Mr. Fennel and his daughter in town, the latter received the following letter from Macgregor, dated from the village where she had first seen him:
[Writing]" MINE AIN HEART'S DEAREST TREASURE,
" Frae the scene of my happiest hours, as I view the meadows through which I ha' sae often wandered wi' my sweet Alice, I date this letter. I did swear, alas! never to see thee mair ; but manly strength in vain struggles against the superior force of love, and I ha' nae fortitude sufficient to quit and renounce what I canna preserve: yet, if this pure passion did nae teach us to support, to believe, and to hope, what would be our destiny? Ah! it is a divine breath that vivifies our souls, a sacred, mysterious sentiment, which cannot be analyzed.
"I ha' been in mine ain countrie , at the wedding of a friend: ah, Alice! ' Ilka heart was blythe but me."
"Thou, sweet lassie , hast been smoothing the pillow of sickness; thine eyne have wept o'er the dead! Ah, Alice! the beauteous go wan , like thine ain sel , and the deformed figure of he who can never cease to love thee, must all submit to the King of Terrors. Ah, then, sweet Alice, scorn me not, because I am not beauteous as thou art! I feel, I feel right sair , I can nae langer live without thee; and when I sware to see thee nae mair , I spake most rashly. Oh, lovely Alice! I must again behold thee; and if thou wilt not bless me with thine hand for life, let me ainly see thee once mair , before I bid thee again adieu for ever! Pity, oh, pity, and refuse not thy love to thine ain through life, and even in death, Macgregor."

"And I do not fear entering the lists with ony one in his defence," said Alice, endeavouring to imitate, as far as she was able, Margaret's sweet and chastened Scottish accent.
"Bless me!" resumed Miss Southgate, with a faint, sarcastic laugh, "what a reform is here! What is become of your fashing , and your sonsie mon , and all the rest of your muckle, bonnie Scotch ?"
"Hoot awa!" interrupted lady Macbane; " dinna be a'ter casting your gibes, and spearing o' sic matters as ye nae understand; ye mak ten times worse nonsense o' the bonnie Scotch, than e'en the pretty sonsie bairn of the gude and kind-heated master Fennel. Ye had better hawd your tongue, if you dinna speak that your ain mither taught ye ."

He immediately hastened to give his assistance to a fat and rather handsome-looking middleaged lady, who was in the carriage, and who, very fortunately, had received no hurt; but before she thanked him for his kind attention and politeness, she exclaimed-- "Hoot awa wi' the careless loon !--Be so gude , sir, wull ye , to ask if poor Sandy be nae hurt."
Fortunately a lady was confined in the same street, and the pavement just beyond, at least a great space of it, was plentifully covered with straw, and on that poor Sandy the footboy had been thrown by the violent concussion of the carriage. The poor coachman, with a mixture of snuff and blood issuing from his nostrils, was the most hurt of the party: but his mistress seemed to have no pity for him; she bestowed on him only the epithet of careless loon , and told him it would do him nae harm to lose a wee drap or twa of bluid .
Alice gazed on the lady at first with admiration, and thought her accent charming; how different from her own! She feared she never should attain to such a pronunciation. Yet the kind and tender heart of Alice told her that the lady's conduct to her poor coachman was cruel; while Fennel, as busy as if in his old profession, was giving his active assistance to every member of the party.

"Ah!" said lady Macbane, " an I be muckle glad to see ye baith : I be unco ' late wi' breakfast, for I had aw night lang sic a pain i' my lug , I cauld nae blink mine eyne ."

"What wull ye tak this morning?" said she to Fennel; " wull ye ha' a wee drap o' usquebaugh ? I ha' sum that be right gude , and a bit o' oatcake?" Fennel excused himself, alleging that he never drank any thing before dinner.
"Eh! but the young lassie then," said she, "that loos fu' weel aw that is Scotche ; she will tak a wee bit o' cake o' my ain making?"
Poor Alice involuntarily cast a look at her hands, and her heart sickened as she politely declined the offer.

"This young gowan is withering afore mine eyne ," said sir Alexander, one day to an old confidential friend, a Highlander, belonging to one of the oldest clans in Scotland; "what maun I do, mon ? I am too auld and too puir to woo and marry a lass that ha' got plenty of siller ; nor wull I ha' ane that canna boast gude bluid like my ain sel : but my puir lassie wants a kind mither to tak charge o' her, and to comfort the puir heart o' her, by good nature and kindness. Puir Meg is a' now I ha' in the wide world."

"And I do not fear entering the lists with ony one in his defence," said Alice, endeavouring to imitate, as far as she was able, Margaret's sweet and chastened Scottish accent.
"Bless me!" resumed Miss Southgate, with a faint, sarcastic laugh, "what a reform is here! What is become of your fashing , and your sonsie mon , and all the rest of your muckle, bonnie Scotch ?"
"Hoot awa!" interrupted lady Macbane; " dinna be a'ter casting your gibes, and spearing o' sic matters as ye nae understand; ye mak ten times worse nonsense o' the bonnie Scotch, than e'en the pretty sonsie bairn of the gude and kind-heated master Fennel. Ye had better hawd your tongue, if you dinna speak that your ain mither taught ye ."

" LADDIE ,
[Writing]"I loo ye weel , would be saying too leetle , for I adore ye . Eh! ye ken not how my puir heart warmed i' my bosom, when mine ain lugs drew in the hartsome soond o' yere gude way o' thinking, and hoo ye admire, wi' me, the right bonnie Walter Scote , that bra' mon at whom ye were wont to speer . Ah , laddie ! an ye wish to be mine ain gudemon , as I would wish to be your gude and lawful wife, haud not yere hond , but be blaithe and gamesome as mysell ; and ask my feyther to gi' his consent for the priest to mak' us ane ; for I ken weel that he wishes to see me wed to a lad as I loo so weel as I loo you. Lose therefore nae time; and believe me your ain lassie for ever. I need nae put my name to this, for sic anither Scotche lassie as mysell your eyne ne'er glowered upon; and Scotche or nae Scotche , I am yours ever, by my lane ."

Robert, in great agitation, fearful that the letter contained some ill news of poor Lovemore, hastily tore it open but had much difficulty in deciphering the following curious epistle:--
"HONNORRED SURR,
[Writing] "Thiss cums wyth my humbell sarviss too yoo, an moste dootyfool respecks. Oh, surr, my deer masterr, Mr. Gorge Lovemore, begs mee to rite deereekely, an, att the sayme tyme bids mee saye, thatt hee is shure thee juchmunt of Hevenn hass fallin onn hymm, for the reesins as wye, hee purtendid too bee ille wenn he was notte, an nowe, oh surr, he lays a dyein. Hee lost a grate deel o' munney syns yoo rote to un, an he tooked yoore last litter verry moutche to harte: an soe he went an played awaye, desprait like. By-anby cumms an Itally gentillmann, awl the waye fromm Room; an hee allwayes plaid wythe verry badde luk, an my master wun munny of him; an soe, ass he was niver awaye from the gaymin tabell, ass a boddi maye saye. Wun nite, surr, my master wunn a verry grate summ from the Itally gentillmann; he wos the sun of wott iss cawld a markeesaw in Room, but hiss faather kep the yung man verry shorte like; an mi master wun awl hee had: soe an plees yoo, the wicket Itally gentillmann, wott dus he doo, but folios my master hoam, in the darke, an sties him throo the bak wythe wott they cawls a stiltoe in Room: an nowe my poore master lays a dyein of hiss wounds, wile the wicket Itally retch has fownd meenes to mayke hiss skape, an has gott aborde ashippe, bownde to summ forrin poarte. Itt is unpossibell for my deere master to lyve, ass awl the French surgins sayes: hee is qwyte sensabell, an wyshes verry moutche too see yure honner. Hee sayes he hass a grate deele to saye too yoo; an thay doo saye, howe he wille, mayhapp, live a fortynite longur, poore deere deere gentillmann. Hoppin thatt yo wille nott fale to cum, "I am, moste humbelly,
"Yoor poore sarvant too comande,
"Timothy Rawlins,"
"Inglish footemann to Mr. Gorge Lovemore, Esquair.

Just at that moment, Betty came in, with-- "Las, sir! I cannot get that poor woman as lives at the top of the lane away from the gate; she cries, and takes on so , and says, how she will and must see the ugly Scotch soldier-officer, for she is sure he is an angel dropt down from heaven. I could not help saying then angels are not such pretty creatures as I thought; howsomever , I ax'd her what made her cry so; and she said she cried with joy: now I never did sitch a thing in all my born days ; but I suppose how I never had enough of it," added Betty, with a laugh.

"You see, Miss," said Betty, "I've ventured to do as much of my own accord as you mought like I should, a'ter what I heard you say last night. To be sure I arn't such a purfessed cook as Jenny Deans , Miss, I think you call her; but master's much pleased with my cooking, and says how I shall make a very excellent cook in time."
"You do extremely well," said Alice, blushing at her own folly in calling poor Jane Arrowsmith by the name of Jenny Deans, "and you have done exactly as I wished this morning .