IV. JOANNA’S CARE 537

melody and power of tradition consecrating nearly every scene with some past light, either of heroism or religion.

62. And so it chanced, providentially, that at this moment, when my mother’s thoughts dwelt constantly on the past, there should be this child near us,-still truly a child, in her powers of innocent pleasure, but already so accustomed to sorrow, that there was nothing that could farther depress her in my mother’s solitude. I have not time to tell of the pretty little ways in which it came about, but they all ended in my driving to No. 1, Cambridge Street, on the 19th April, 1864: where her uncle (my cousin, John Tweddale) brought her up to the drawing-room to me, saying, “This is Joan.”

I had seen her three years before, but not long enough to remember her distinctly: only I had a notion that she would be “nice,”* and saw at once that she was entirely nice, both in my mother’s way, and mine; being now seventeen years and some-well, for example of accuracy

people are so ill-advised as to postpone their dinner till three, that they may have full time to answer their London correspondents.’

“‘London correspondents!’ said Mr. Maxwell; ‘and pray, what the devil have the people of Auld Reekie to do with London correspondents?’

“‘The tradesmen must have their goods,’ said Fairford.

“‘Can they not buy our own Scottish manufactures, and pick their customers’ pockets in a more patriotic manner?’

“‘Then the ladies must have fashions,’ said Fairford.

“‘Can they not busk the plaid over their heads, as their mothers did? A tartan screen, and once a year a new cockernony from Paris, should serve a countess; but ye have not many of them left, I think. Mareschal, Airley, Winton, Wemyss, Balmerino-ay, ay, the countesses and ladies of quality will scarce take up too much of your ballroom floor with their quality hoops nowadays.’

“‘There is no want of crowding, however, sir,’ said Fairford; ‘they begin to talk of a new Assembly Room.’

“‘A new Assembly Room!’ said the old Jacobite Laird. ‘Umph-I mind quartering three hundred men in the Assembly Room you have. But, come, come: I’ll ask no more questions-the answers all smell of new lords, new lands.’”

* And the word means more, with me, than with Sydney Smith (see his Memoirs¹); but it means all that he does, to begin with.

¹ [“A nice person is neither too tall or too short, looks clean and cheerful, has no prominent feature, makes no difficulties, is never misplaced, sits bodkin, is never foolishly affected, and is void of affectations,” etc. See “Definition of ‘A Nice Person,’” in Lady Holland’s Memoir of Sydney Smith, 1850, vol. i. pp. 198-199.]

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