, the eldest,
seemingly older than her mother--for she is somewhat hard-favoured, and
strong red hair dangling over a squint eye is apt to give an expression
of advanced years, even to a youthful virgin. Vaccination was not known
in Girzie's babyhood, but she is, nevertheless, a clean-skinned
creature, and her full bosom is white as snow. She is what is delicately
called a strapper, rosy-armed as the morning, and not a little of an
Aurora about the ankles. She makes her way, in all household affairs,
through every impediment, and will obviously prove, whenever the
experiment is made, a most excellent wife. Mysie, the second daughter,
is more composed, more genteel, and sits sewing--with her a favourite
occupation, for she has very neat hands; and is, in fact, the milliner
and mantua-maker for all the house. She could no more lift that enormous
pan of boiling water off the fire than she could fly, which in the grasp
of Girzie is safely landed on the hearth. Mysie has somewhat of a
pensive look, as if in love--and we have heard that she is betrothed to
young Mr Rentoul, the divinity student, who lately made a speech before
the Anti-patronage Society, and therefore may reasonably expect very
soon to get a kirk. But look--there comes dancing in from the ewe-bughts
the bright-eyed Bessy, the flower of the flock, the most beautiful girl
in Almondale, and fit to be bosom-burd of the Gentle Shepherd himself! O
that we were a poet, to sing the innocence of her budding breast!
But--heaven preserve us!--what is the angelic creature about? Making
rumbledethumps! Now she pounds the potatoes and cabbages as with pestle
and mortar! Ever and anon licking the butter off her fingers, and then
dashing in the salt! Methinks her laugh is out of all bounds loud--and,
unless my eyes deceived me, that stout lout whispered in her delicate
ear some coarse jest, that made the eloquent blood mount up into her not
undelighted countenance. Heavens and earth!--perhaps an assignation in
the barn, or byre, or bush aboon Traquair. But the long dresser is set
out with dinner--the gudeman's bonnet is reverently laid aside--and if
any stomach assembled there be now empty, it is not likely, judging from
appearances, that it will be in that state again before next
Sabbath--and it is now but the middle of the week. Was it not my Lord
Byron who liked not to see women eat? Poo--poo--nonsense! We like to see
them not only eat--but devour. Not a set of teeth round