The Ayrshire Legatees

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.