"Collected, my leddy! what wad ye collect out of the sute and the ass? Ye may gang down yoursell, and look into our kitchen—the cook maid in the trembling exies—the gude vivers lying a' about—beef—capons, and white broth—florentine and flams—bacon wi' reverence, and a' the sweet confections and whim-whams; ye'll see them a', my leddy—that is," said he correcting himself, "ye'll no see ony of them now, for the cook has sweeped them up, as was weel her part; but ye'll see the white broth where it was spilt. I pat my fingers in it, and it tastes as like sour-milk as ony thing else; if that isna the effect of thunner, I kenna what is.—This gentleman here couldna but hear the clash of our haill dishes, china and silver thegither."
The Lord Keeper's domestic, though a statesman's attendant, and of course trained to command his countenance upon all occasions, was somewhat discomposed by this appeal, to which he only answered by a bow.
