when she left Edinburgh, "I hardly know," she replied pensively.
"I am waiting for the shade of Montrose to direct me, as the Viscount
Dundee said to your Duke of Gordon." The entranced Scotsman little knew
that she had perfected this style of conversation by long experience
with the Q.C.'s of England. Talk about my being as deep as the Currie
Brig (whatever it may be); Salemina is deeper than the Atlantic Ocean! I
shall take pains to inform her Writer to the Signet, after dinner, that
she eats sugar on her porridge every morning; that will show him her
nationality conclusively.

The earl took the greatest interest in my new ancestors, and approved
thoroughly of my choice. He thinks I must have been named for Lady
Penelope Belhaven, who lived in Leven Lodge, one of the country villas
of the Earls of Leven, from whom he himself is descended. "Does that
make us relatives?" I asked. "Relatives, most assuredly," he replied,
"but not too near to destroy the charm of friendship."

He thought it a great deal nicer to select one's own forebears than to
allow them all the responsibility, and said it would save a world of
trouble if the method could be universally adopted. He added that he
should be glad to part with a good many of his, but doubted whether I
would accept them, as they were 'rather a scratch lot.' (I use his own
language, which I thought delightfully easy for a belted earl.) He was
charmed with the story of Francesca and the lamiter, and offered to
drive me to Kildonan House, Helmsdale, on the first fine day. I told him
he was quite safe in making the proposition, for we had already had the
fine day, and we understood that the climate had exhausted itself and
retired for the season.

The gentleman on my left, a distinguished Dean of the Thistle, gave me a
few moments' discomfort by telling me that the old custom of 'rounds'
of toasts still prevailed at Lady Baird's on formal occasions, and that
before the ladies retired every one would be called upon for appropriate
'sentiments.'

"What sort of sentiments?" I inquired, quite overcome with terror.

"Oh, epigrammatic sentences expressive of moral feelings or virtues,"
replied my neighbour easily. "They are not quite as formal and hackneyed
now as they were in the olden time, when some of the favourite toasts
were 'May the pleasure of the evening bear the reflections of the
morning!' 'May the friends of our youth be the companions of our old
age!' 'May the hones