 the particular donors were attached, as if to make Jeanie sensible not only
of the general, but of the individual interest she had excited in the noble
family. To name the various articles by their appropriate names, would be to
attempt things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme; besides that the old-fashioned
terms of manteaus, sacques, kissing-strings, and so forth, would convey but
little information even to the milliners of the present day. I shall deposit,
however, an accurate inventory of the contents of the trunk with my kind friend,
Miss Martha Buskbody, who has promised, should the public curiosity seem
interested in the subject, to supply me with a professional glossary and
commentary. Suffice it to say, that the gift was such as became the donors, and
was suited to the situation of the receiver; that every thing was handsome and
appropriate, and nothing forgotten which belonged to the wardrobe of a young
person in Jeanie's situation in life, the destined bride of a respectable
clergyman.
    Article after article was displayed, commented upon, and admired, to the
wonder of May, who declared, »she didna think the queen had mair or better
claise,« and somewhat to the envy of the northern Cowslip. This unamiable, but
not very unnatural, disposition of mind, broke forth in sundry unfounded
criticisms to the disparagement of the articles, as they were severally
exhibited. But it assumed a more direct character, when, at the bottom of all,
was found a dress of white silk, very plainly made, but still of white silk, and
French silk to boot, with a paper pinned to it, bearing that it was a present
from the Duke of Argyle to his travelling companion, to be worn on the day when
she should change her name.
    Mrs. Dutton could forbear no longer, but whispered into Mr. Archibald's ear,
that it was a clever thing to be a Scotchwoman: »She supposed all her sisters,
and she had half-a-dozen, might have been hanged, without any one sending her a
present of a pocket handkerchief.«
    »Or without your making any exertion to save them, Mrs. Dolly,« answered
Archibald drily. - »But I am surprised we do not hear the bell yet,« said he,
looking at his watch.
    »Fat ta deil, Mr. Archibald,« answered the Captain of Knockdunder, »wad ye
hae them ring the bell before I am ready to gang to kirk? - I wad gar the bedral
eat the bell-rope, if he
