his last joke is good. She repeats it when writing of James the Second
being killed at Roxburgh:--

He was killed by a cannon splinter,
Quite in the middle of the winter;
Perhaps it was not at that time,
But I can get no other rhyme.

Here is one of her last letters, dated Kirkcaldy, 12th October, 1811.
You can see how her nature is deepening and enriching:--

MY DEAR MOTHER--You will think that I entirely forget you but
I assure you that you are greatly mistaken. I think of you
always and often sigh to think of the distance between us two
loving creatures of nature. We have regular hours for all our
occupations first at 7 o'clock we go to the dancing and come
home at 8 we then read our Bible and get our repeating and
then play till ten then we get our music till 11 when we get
our writing and accounts we sew from 12 till 1 after which I
get my gramer and then work till five. At 7 we come and knit
till 8 when we dont go to the dancing. This is an exact
description. I must take a hasty farewell to her whom I love,
reverence and doat on and who I hope thinks the same of

MARJORY FLEMING.

P.S.--An old pack of cards (!) would be very exceptible.

This other is a month earlier:--

"MY DEAR LITTLE MAMA--I was truly happy to hear that you were
all well. We are surrounded with measles at present on every
side, for the Herons got it, and Isabella Heron was near
Death's Door, and one night her father lifted her out of bed,
and she fell down as they thought lifeless. Mr. Heron said,
'That lassie's deed noo'--'I'm no deed yet.' She then threw
up a big worm nine inches and a half long. I have begun
dancing, but am not very fond of it, for the boys strikes and
mocks me.--I have been another night at the dancing; I like
it better. I will write to you as often as I can; but I am
afraid not every week. _I long for you with the longings of a
child to embrace you--to fold you in my arms. I respect you
with all the respect due to a mother. You don't know how I
love you. So I shall remain, your loving child_,

M. FLEMING."

What rich involution of love in the words marked! Here are some lines to
her beloved Isabella, in July, 1811:--

"There is a thing that I do want--
With you these beauteous walks to haunt;
We would be happy if you would
Tr