264 REMINISCENCES OF 



1863. — Mark Napier went to a fancy ball in 

 Edinburgh dressed as an old Lady, and no one could 

 tell who he was. He wrote this letter to my wife : — 



" My Dear Marion, 



" My bonnie bird — ye'll surely no be 

 expectin' me to ca' ye mistress, wha kent ye when 

 ye were a bairn ? And speaking o' that (my doo), 

 I mind, in my bairnage, mistress meant miss, and 

 miss meant mistress. Monkbarns, my brither, never 

 can get out o't yet. He was speaking to a literary 

 lady, no further gaen than yestreen, about a grand 

 scheme of hers for feeding a' folk, rich and poor, 

 for a penny fee, which took the laird's fancy to 

 that degree, that, my certie, puir Maggie Muckle- 

 backet will no hae a chance wi' him in their next 

 /is k bargain. 'Weel,' says my brither, 'ye're ower 

 young to remember Mistress Catherine.' But, 

 faith, when Monkbarns (wha of course meant Miss) 

 got that length, he got no further in that speech, 

 for the lady took sic pains to let him ken that she 

 was nockt married (and ye'll mind neither is Monk- 

 barns) that the laird got quite flustered, and their 

 discourse got into sic a wrangle about miss and 

 7nistress that he'll be for ca'in me miss ; and if he 

 does, 'od I'll gie him his kail through the reek. 

 But I fear I'm ramblin'. I've sent ye this, wi' my 

 card (for we're a' cards noo — nothing to be done 

 without cards, and pictures on them now — how 

 fashions change to be sure ! — they mak' the very 

 S2in do things now that for the very life o' him he 



