Somehow the words grated on my nerve. It is so much easier to run yourself down than to be run.
But right here in front of so many martyrs I wuzn’t goin’ to be overcome by a muskeeter, for truly my sufferin’s wuzn’t bigger than that, compared to theirn.
And I wuz jest a-goin’ to complete my self-conquest by speakin’ soft to him, when he whispered to me—
“I’m as hungry as a bear, Samantha. Not a bear in a circus,” sez he, “but a Rocky Mountain bear.
“I wonder if Martin hain’t about ready to go?”
Wall, Martin wuz ready by that time; but I see lots of other things whilst we wuz there. Alice and Martin went to the Queen’s Drive. I d’no who the Queen wuz, nor who she driv, nor how fur.
And they went to the ruins of St. Anthony’s Chapel, and Alice raved over the beautiful view from Arthur’s Seat. I d’no what kind of a seat it wuz, nor how long Arthur sot in it, but she said that the view from there wuz enchantin’. And we all went to the Antiquarian Museum, and see sights and sights of relicks. Autograph letters from Charles 2nd, Cromwell, Mary, Queen of Scots, and we see the old Scotch Covenant with the names of Montrose, Lothair, etc., signed to it. And one of the banners them Covenanters had bore in their battles.
Here wuz the very glass that Prince Charlie drank from before the battle of Culloden. And then the pulpit of John Knox; out of which that man three hundred years ago thundered out sech burnin’ words agin the Church of Rome.
Here is a piece of the last garments put on to Robert Bruce, and in which he was laid in his last sleep—a sound sleep. Poor creeter! disturbed not by the warlike bugles and sounds of fray.
And here is the blue ribbin of the Knight of the Garter, wore by Prince Charlie, and the ring gin to him by Flora Macdonald as they parted.