The old lady, after
exchanging the usual civilities, described her complaint to the worthy
son of AEsculapius. "Well," says he, "do you know, Mrs. Macfarlane, I
used to be much affected with the very same kind of sore throat, but
ever since I allowed my mustache and beard to grow, I have never been
troubled with it." "Aweel, aweel," said the old lady drily, "that may be
the case, but ye maun prescribe some other method for me to get quit o'
the sair throat; for ye ken, doctor, I canna adopt _that_ cure."
Then how quaint the answer of old Mrs. Robison, widow of the eminent
professor of natural philosophy, and who entertained an inveterate
dislike to everything which she thought savoured of _cant_. She had
invited a gentleman to dinner on a particular day, and he had accepted,
with the reservation, "If I am spared."--"Weel, weel," said Mrs.
Robison; "if ye're deed, I'll no expect ye."
I had two grand-aunts living at Montrose at that time--two Miss Ramsays
of Balmain. They were somewhat of the severe class---Nelly especially,
who was an object rather of awe than of affection. She certainly had a
very awful appearance to young apprehensions, from the strangeness of
her headgear. Ladies of this class Lord Cockburn has spoken of as
"having their peculiarities embodied in curious outsides, as they
dressed, spoke, and did exactly as they chose." As a sample of such
"curious outside and dress," my good aunt used to go about the house
with an immense pillow strapped over her head--warm but formidable.
Pages:
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351