LETTER XV
Mrs. Pringle to Miss Nanny Eydent, Mantua-maker, Seagate Head,
Irvine
LONDON.
DEAR MISS NANNY--Miss Mally Glencairn would tell you all how it happent
that I was disabled, by our misfortunes in the ship, from riting to you
konserning the London fashons as I promist; for I wantit to be
partikylor, and to say nothing but what I saw with my own eyes, that it
might be servisable to you in your bizness--so now I will begin with the
old king's burial, as you have sometimes okashon to lend a helping hand
in that way at Irvine, and nothing could be more genteeler of the kind
than a royal obsakew for a patron; but no living sole can give a distink
account of this matter, for you know the old king was the father of his
piple, and the croud was so great. Howsomever we got into our oun hired
shaze at daylight; and when we were let out at the castel yett of
Windsor, we went into the mob, and by and by we got within the castel
walls, when great was the lamentation for the purdition of shawls and
shoos, and the Doctor's coat pouch was clippit off by a pocket-picker.
We then ran to a wicket-gate, and up an old timber-stair with a rope
ravel, and then we got to a great pentit chamber called King George's
Hall: After that we were allowt to go into another room full of guns and
guards, that told us all to be silent: so then we all went like sawlies,
holding our tongues in an awful manner, into a dysmal room hung with
black cloth, and lighted with dum wax-candles in silver skonses, and men
in a row all in mulancholic posters. At length and at last we came to
the coffin; but although I was as partikylar as possoble, I could see
nothing that I would recommend. As for the interment, there was nothing
but even-down wastrie--wax-candles blowing away in the wind, and flunkies
as fou as pipers, and an unreverent mob that scarsely could demean
themselves with decency as the body was going by; only the Duke of York,
who carrit the head, had on no hat, which I think was the newest
identical thing in the affair: but really there was nothing that could be
recommended. Howsomever I understood that there was no draigie, which
was a saving; for the bread and wine for such a multitude would have been
a destruction to a lord's living: and this is the only point that the
fashon set in the king's feunoral may be follot in Irvine.