"Which of my hawses do you like best?"
"The grey, I think."
"The giey! then you don't like Bewtus , he's my faveyet ."
"Then Brutus shall be _my_ favourite too," said Mrs. Selwyn, beginning to appreciate the Baronet's character.
"I knew you'd change your mind – I gave Lawd John a hundred guineas for him – you know Lawd John Lennawd."
"I have not that pleasure."
"What not know Lawd John Lennawd! – you quite surpeise me – he's a son of the Duke of Ulverstone."
[some narrative omitted]
"I'm afraid you're a little deaf, Sir Caesar."
"Eh no, I'm not – what made you think so – it's veye yude , and if you say so again, - I've a gaate mind to put you out, and make you walk."
"I'll trust to your politeness, Sir Caesar," said Mrs. Selwyn, laughing at his oddity.
"You wouldn't have faw to walk," returned the Baronet, "we're almost come."

"Well , but one can't yecollect eveyithing one hears – I think, Effawsham told me that we had burnt a ship of the line, taken two more and deove off the yest ."
"But who is the hero of the victory?"
"Upon my honaw – " said Sir Caesar, pausing, "that has escaped my yecollection – let me see – 'twas Lawd – no, Admiyal – what was his name – gad I've fawgot ."

"I longs to see Cattern and all on 'em," said Mrs. Grimshaw, "and as for Hetty and M'rier , they be so hoverjoyed as your nieces be home again, nothing can be like it-- they be like sisters you know; and there they slept with 'em last night, and there your coach or what it is, cam'd and took away the Simmonses to all manner of pleasuring--and I'm sure 'tis heart-breaking to 'em, for 'em to be parted so, just a'ter a habsence --such friends they be , to be sure --and I ver'ly b'lieves my girls ou'd go thro' vater or fire and smoke to sarve any of your nieces my lady--and 'twill spile all their pleasure of going to this here masq'rade without my girls--but there, that can't be-- tho 'twould be but two--and so friendly--"

"So much!" cried Mrs. Grimshaw, rising, "vell then, as we've so fur to go, ve must be on the move--though I vanted to see Miss Archerly, to perpose some pleasant party; for I hopes to see Sir Philup and you my lady, some hevening next week as is most agreerble --say Vensday or Thuzday ."
[some narrative omitted]
"'Tis a misfortin Sir--and what's vuss ve can't never find no cure for it--the things ve have tried!--Tom's got a hissue in each arm now- -be they both kept open Tom?"
"I've no such thing, Mother--I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh fie , oh fie Tom vhen 'twas but last ven'sday veek Doctor Godfrey dress'd your arm-- you know, " continued Mrs. Grimshaw.
[some narrative omitted]
"Come, chillern , we must be going-- Vell Lady Archerly, if I can't purvail on'e to dirty a knife and fork with us, this time, all as is, ve must disfer it, 'till next time as you comes to Lunnon , and then ve'll be better acquainted, on't us? – Ah, that ve vill --we 'on't purtend to know vun another in vun visit: ' tis morarly unposserble ."

"Oh lawk, iss, " returned the mother, " ''tis a nice hairy sityvation , and I was never here afore , though born'd and bred in Lunnon , 'tis so fur , you see , my lady from our reserdence , and so I sent our Jem with my love, to borry old Mr. G's charrot , 'cause I'm wery timidous in a hack."
"You had better take something after your long ride, Mrs Grimshaw," said Major Lethbridge; "Let me help you to a glass of wine."
"Sir, you're wery purlite -- I've no objections; indeed I vas going to beg a draught of Lady Archerly's small beer--and to say the truth , I could eat vun of them there biskies ."
"Wouldn't you prefer some of that there cake?" said Mrs. Lethbridge.
"No thank 'e ma'am--I like it, but it don't like me," cried Mrs. Grimshaw, wiping her face with a faded silk handkerchief, and spreading it over her lap. "Sir, you're a gen'leman ," said she, as the Major handed her a glass of wine. "Oh law! if I han't a flopp'd some of it on the nice carput --better ring the bell for a dirty cloth, hadn't 'e -- needn't say nothing about it to Lady Archerly, 'cause she'll make a fuss p'raps . Here's my service to 'e ; Sir Philip Archerly, your better health--Lady Archerly, our better acquainternce --that Lady next you --and the Lady in the purple welwut --Jessy, my dear, your father's health, and your aunt Simmons and sisters--Hetty, M'rier , my love to 'e --Tom –" concluded she, nodding to her son.

" Vell now, I thought as 'twasn't true, though my sister Grimshaw, ou'd 'sist upon it as 'twas – fegs! there's a thief in the can'le ," continued Mrs Hancock, taking a pin from her side to remedy the defect; "and now neighbour Temple, hand my plate for some more pourk – near the handle please, 'cause 'tain't done in the middle – oh law, you put your thumb in my mustard – never mind – oh you ha'n't – now for some pudd'n – there – that's vell."

"Let there be a piece for me," added Mrs. Hancock, "without any pepper; 'ton't do for my cough – though I be fond of spices, they bain't fond of me – for I be but a poor body for health , though I look so rumbustious – I was bad enough o' conscience isterday evening; I was bad in my bowels Sir, and a'ter I went to bed, I grew wus and wus ; I thought I should have died in the night: 'tis going about they tell me – and here I'm come to Bath," continued she, sucking a chicken bone, "to have my bad leg pumpt upon – did you call for bread, neighbour Temple – here, you shall have mine, I ha'n't a bit it – come I'll have the crust and you shall have the peth – excuse my paws , hands were made afore knives and forks – if you bain't going to drink no more of that there beer, I'll thenk'e for't – one good turn deserves another you know – there's just enough for me now, and by'n by I'll have a good swig a'ter my cheese – why neighbour, you don't eat – I must have some more pa'sley and butter – not over my bacon squire – 'tisn't 'il'd , is it? ah 'tis, what a pity: it quite spiles one's dinner. What nice looking pertaters these be, " continued she cutting one in half with her knife – "Law it grates again the steel – they bain't done – stick your fork in some cabbage for me, will'e squire ; that's vell ."

Whether Bess, who was a philosopher in the article of courtship, was, as she approached the fauld, reasoning prospectively on the good luck that attends the marriage-state when folks strive to do their best, and leave Heaven to make out the rest; or whether she was praying to Heaven, as, being in the minister's house, Bess was reckoned unco guid , that the virtuous Willie and she might be permitted, " gif it war ordained, to buckle to;" or whether she was preaching economy to herself on the "maist thrifty lad having a carefu' wife to store his aumrie and the hallan;" or whether she was enquiring into the wants of wedlock, "healsome, clean ware, a heart to guide his winnings with all her canny care, a flock of lambs, cheese, butter, meal and woo, and lots o' weans;" or whether she was reproaching herself for not encouraging Willie in his suit, and trembling lest his heart should grow cold, and his smiles and honeyed lips she'd lose, and "perchance anither lass the heartsome heartstrung name of Willie's wife should bear;" is only to be learned from the subsequent conduct of this wily girl; but sure it is, she came up with lightsome heel, unclouded brow, and coyly cheerful, love-beguiling face, and heaving breasts that showed at least a panting heart now freed of that negative laxity which delights to torture and sacrifice the victim of a cruel burning love.
But by this time Willie's head reclined considerably forward, and his chin rested on his breast-bone, and his eyes met the ground but a pace from his foot; and as Bess came to the gate, whether the animal had heard her footsteps, or nature had been sated with dosing and dreamings, Willie's dog sprang to the gate, and barked the bark of "welcome;" for Bess he knew, and loved her for his master's sake; whatever was the cause, Bess screamed softly, and Willie sprang to the gate, fleet as the buck to meet his doe; but Bess exclaimed, "I darena stay."
How the gate was opened, or by what movement Willie and she seated themselves on the stone, Levingstone could not perceive; for the celerity with which both were performed, was so rapid, as to bid defiance to examination; but certain it was, that though the cause had vanished, the agents of that cause, and its effect on those agents, were now fit objects of minute attention to Levingstone.
Willie and Bess are seated.-- " Ye wad na gang frae me, Bess, as soon ye've cam ."-- "I winna be alane wi' ye , Willie." --"For aught I hear or see, we twa are e'en alane , my dawtie Bess."-- "Fie, Willie, lad, ye manna prie my mow again," --"My ain dawtie , thy breath is sweeter than the sweetest brier, my dawtie 's cheeks excel the rose; my bonny Bess, gif I could fancy aught 's sae sweet and fair as your twa bonny arching breasts, mair white than ony lily, mair ripe than ony berries our glens can yield, an' a' the fruits that hang upon the trees are nae sae ripe, sae sweet, my dawtie Bess, as thou ."-- " Ye're havering , Willie, let me gang ; ye ken lambs should tremble when the foxes preach; ye joker, ye may change your sang , and gif I tent a word o' loo , ye'll ablings make me thole the wrang ."
"Gif now, my dawtie , ye'd believe, I hae for you mair than a mither 's fondness for her bairn , ye wad sit smiling on my knee; I'll wrang ye nane , my heart I'll never change; the burn sall rin up oure the glen, the fawing sun braw Ettrick woods sall cease to tint we goud , the diamonds frae the lifts be tane , the spring, the summer, an' the hairst shall be ae lang winter oure , afore that ought by me be said or doon to skaith my loo for Bess; my dawtie , gif ye haud me true, I'se tak my aith by mair than a' aboon ; I'm stown , I canna change, ye need nae fear."
"Rise, Willie; gif I could ony answer gi' , but dinna haud me in your grips , ye'll gar my heart rin out at baith my een ." -- "O! dawtie Bess, my vera saul is lowping to my lips."-- "Fie, Willie, fie, what gars ye aye gae wod wi' kissing." --"My heart is flightering fain for ae wee word o' comfort frae my dawtie ."-- "Willie, I dinna ken what's come oure me, but I canna --" --" Dinna greet , my bonny dawtie , dinna greet ."-- "O, Willie! gif I thought ye wad prove true, may be my heart might loo thee lang without a flaw." --" Eneugh , my bonny Bess; I see your rowing een can tell the truth o' what ye hae now tald ; my heart is glee , I'm dizzy, I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought; in troth, I'm like to greet ; I lang nae tint my power; ye'se hang nae langer on the tree; I'll spier the minister's leave afore it's lang , and sine ye'll be my ain , Bess."

Whether Bess, who was a philosopher in the article of courtship, was, as she approached the fauld, reasoning prospectively on the good luck that attends the marriage-state when folks strive to do their best, and leave Heaven to make out the rest; or whether she was praying to Heaven, as, being in the minister's house, Bess was reckoned unco guid , that the virtuous Willie and she might be permitted, " gif it war ordained, to buckle to;" or whether she was preaching economy to herself on the "maist thrifty lad having a carefu' wife to store his aumrie and the hallan;" or whether she was enquiring into the wants of wedlock, "healsome, clean ware, a heart to guide his winnings with all her canny care, a flock of lambs, cheese, butter, meal and woo, and lots o' weans;" or whether she was reproaching herself for not encouraging Willie in his suit, and trembling lest his heart should grow cold, and his smiles and honeyed lips she'd lose, and "perchance anither lass the heartsome heartstrung name of Willie's wife should bear;" is only to be learned from the subsequent conduct of this wily girl; but sure it is, she came up with lightsome heel, unclouded brow, and coyly cheerful, love-beguiling face, and heaving breasts that showed at least a panting heart now freed of that negative laxity which delights to torture and sacrifice the victim of a cruel burning love.
But by this time Willie's head reclined considerably forward, and his chin rested on his breast-bone, and his eyes met the ground but a pace from his foot; and as Bess came to the gate, whether the animal had heard her footsteps, or nature had been sated with dosing and dreamings, Willie's dog sprang to the gate, and barked the bark of "welcome;" for Bess he knew, and loved her for his master's sake; whatever was the cause, Bess screamed softly, and Willie sprang to the gate, fleet as the buck to meet his doe; but Bess exclaimed, "I darena stay."
How the gate was opened, or by what movement Willie and she seated themselves on the stone, Levingstone could not perceive; for the celerity with which both were performed, was so rapid, as to bid defiance to examination; but certain it was, that though the cause had vanished, the agents of that cause, and its effect on those agents, were now fit objects of minute attention to Levingstone.
Willie and Bess are seated.-- " Ye wad na gang frae me, Bess, as soon ye've cam ."-- "I winna be alane wi' ye , Willie." --"For aught I hear or see, we twa are e'en alane , my dawtie Bess."-- "Fie, Willie, lad, ye manna prie my mow again," --"My ain dawtie , thy breath is sweeter than the sweetest brier, my dawtie 's cheeks excel the rose; my bonny Bess, gif I could fancy aught 's sae sweet and fair as your twa bonny arching breasts, mair white than ony lily, mair ripe than ony berries our glens can yield, an' a' the fruits that hang upon the trees are nae sae ripe, sae sweet, my dawtie Bess, as thou ."-- " Ye're havering , Willie, let me gang ; ye ken lambs should tremble when the foxes preach; ye joker, ye may change your sang , and gif I tent a word o' loo , ye'll ablings make me thole the wrang ."
"Gif now, my dawtie , ye'd believe, I hae for you mair than a mither 's fondness for her bairn , ye wad sit smiling on my knee; I'll wrang ye nane , my heart I'll never change; the burn sall rin up oure the glen, the fawing sun braw Ettrick woods sall cease to tint we goud , the diamonds frae the lifts be tane , the spring, the summer, an' the hairst shall be ae lang winter oure , afore that ought by me be said or doon to skaith my loo for Bess; my dawtie , gif ye haud me true, I'se tak my aith by mair than a' aboon ; I'm stown , I canna change, ye need nae fear."
"Rise, Willie; gif I could ony answer gi' , but dinna haud me in your grips , ye'll gar my heart rin out at baith my een ." -- "O! dawtie Bess, my vera saul is lowping to my lips."-- "Fie, Willie, fie, what gars ye aye gae wod wi' kissing." --"My heart is flightering fain for ae wee word o' comfort frae my dawtie ."-- "Willie, I dinna ken what's come oure me, but I canna --" --" Dinna greet , my bonny dawtie , dinna greet ."-- "O, Willie! gif I thought ye wad prove true, may be my heart might loo thee lang without a flaw." --" Eneugh , my bonny Bess; I see your rowing een can tell the truth o' what ye hae now tald ; my heart is glee , I'm dizzy, I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought; in troth, I'm like to greet ; I lang nae tint my power; ye'se hang nae langer on the tree; I'll spier the minister's leave afore it's lang , and sine ye'll be my ain , Bess."

When it came to Suter Willie's turn to dance, he could not dance; he had always been worse than rickety; but Willie had been in Fife, and he would tell them a story he was sure "nobody had ever heard in his ain native place." It was this-- "Allan Mann had a muckle dog, and that dog used to go to the niest town, and carry the siller in his teeth and buy the beef, and bring it hame by ae nook; but ae day the butchers' dogs set upon auld Cowley, for Allan ca'd the beast Cowley; an' so ye see, twa dogs brought sax mair , a' butchers' collies and bull dogs; and so ye see , puir auld Cowley gat the warst o't , and lost the beef, and was sair bitet about the lugs and een : and so ye see , Cowley was sae shamed o' the thing, that he wad na come into the house, but gade and graened i' the barn a' that day; and whan Allan ken'd whare puir Cowley was hidet , he brought him his meat, and did sae for nine days; but Cowley did not eat but ae unco wee pickle o't a' that time: and so you see, on the tenth day, Cowley gaed awa', an' brought five ither guid stout collies, and awa' to the hole whare Cowley hid the meat; and Cowley gie the collies a' the meat, and tauld them in his ain language how he had been worried, and cowpit , and dadet by the butchers' dogs in yon town; and how, gif the collies wad gang wi' him and set up a colly shangy , a' the butchers' dogs wad come out, and then they shud a' set on them and worrie them waur than they worried Cowley: and so ye see, Cowley and his comrades gaed awa' to the neist town, and leathered them weel i' the caputs and spaulds , sae that the butchers thought the warison their brutes ware gating was nathing but a' the dogs and collies i' the country gaen wud ; till they saw Cowley and thought about the beef; and how their ain dogs teuk it frae him; and the butchers then let their ain dogs tak what Cowley's collies and himsel could gie them: and so ye see, whan Cowley and his collies beat them a' , Cowley neist day cam to his maister for the siller for the beef; and frae that day to this, he has gane to the butcher's for Allan's beef; and the butchers' dogs growl, but neer ane o' them will meddle wi' him."