Mickle thocht we o' the gentles ayont the sea, an' sair grat we for a' frien's we kent lang syne in oor ain countree.
Late at nicht, Fanny, the bonny gypsy, cam' ben the hoose an' tirled at the pin of oor bigly bower door, speirin' for baps and bannocks.
"Hoots, lassie!" cried oot Sally, "th' auld carline i' the kitchen is i' her box-bed, an' weel aneuch ye ken is lang syne cuddled doon." "Oo ay!" said Fanny, strikin' her curly pow, "then fetch me parritch, an' dinna be lang wi' them, for I've lickit a Pettybaw lad at the gowff, an' I could eat twa guid jints o' beef gin I had them!" "Losh girl," said I, "gie ower makin' sic a mickle din.

Ye ken verra weel ye'll get nae parritch the nicht.

I'll rin and fetch ye a 'piece' to stap awee the soun'." "Blethers an' havers!" cried Fanny, but she blinkit bonnily the while, an' when the tea was weel maskit, she smoored her wrath an' stappit her mooth wi' a bit o' oaten cake.

We aye keep that i' the hoose, for th' auld servant-body is geyan bad at the cookin', an' she's sae dour an' dowie that to speak but till her we daur hardly mint.
In sic divairsions pass the lang simmer days in braid Scotland, but I canna write mair the nicht, for 'tis the wee sma' hours ayont the twal'.
Like th' auld wife's parrot, 'we dinna speak muckle, but we're deevils to think,' an' we're aye thinkin' aboot ye.

An' noo I maun leave ye to mak' what ye can oot o' this, for I jalouse it'll pass ye to untaukle the whole hypothec.
Fair fa' ye a'! Lang may yer lum reek, an' may prosperity attend oor clan! Aye your gude frien', Penelope Hamilton.
"It may be very fine," remarked Salemina judicially, "though I cannot understand more than half of it." "That would also be true of Browning," I replied.