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Pleydell, your honour kens mony things, but ye dinna ken the farm o' Charlie's Hope; it's sae weel stockit already that we sell maybe sax hundred pounds off it ilka year, flesh and fell the gither; na, na. 'Can't you take another then? 'What, not upon thy neighbour at Dawston Devilstone how d 'ye call the place? 'What, on Jock o' Dawston? hout na.
This is a bald newspaper account; but the lady herself is an experienced correspondent, and in one of her letters, which she has published in a gorgeously emblazoned volume, thus gives her version of the affair in her own vigorous way: "DEVILSTONE CASTLE, 29th September, 1868. "Here I am, my dear friend, at my own house, my roofless home; and my first scrawl from here is to the vicarage.
Pleydell, your honour kens mony things, but ye dinna ken the farm o' Charlie's Hope; it's sae weel stockit already that we sell maybe sax hundred pounds off it ilka year, flesh and fell the gither; na, na. 'Can't you take another then? 'What, not upon thy neighbour at Dawston Devilstone how d 'ye call the place? 'What, on Jock o' Dawston? hout na.
Pleydell, your honour kens mony things, but ye dinna ken the farm o' Charlie's Hope; it's sae weel stockit already that we sell maybe sax hundred pounds off it ilka year, flesh and fell the gither; na, na. 'Can't you take another then? 'What, not upon thy neighbour at Dawston Devilstone how d 'ye call the place? 'What, on Jock o' Dawston? hout na.
"What, not upon thy neighbour at Dawston Devilstone how d'ye call the place?" "Thou'rt an honest fellow," said the lawyer; "get thee to bed. Thou wilt sleep sounder, I warrant thee, than many a man that throws off an embroidered coat, and puts on a laced nightcap. Colonel, I see you are busy with our Enfant trouve.
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