The Mysteries of London; or, Revelations of the British Metropolis — page 208: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

206 MYSTERIES broad nassal twang and peculiar pronunciation of a Highlander. It’s just his honour who sent me to say a wor or twe to his dear little girls. Who do you eali his honour? His honour, God bless him: why, who should his honour ii but the Jaird ? , It happened just as Bob had anticipated; the two young girls hearing the noise he made, had leaned over the balusters of the staircase to listen, ) My father, said Clara; it is a messenger from | ) my father; Betty, let the good man come up. Oh! fend me, dear me! cried Bob, with a joyful tone of vcice, when he was shown into the room where the young ladies were—how much they are grown. My wife, Effie, would not know them again, although she nursed them both. | Effie, cried Anna, what, good Effie, ? our foster mother. Are you then farmer Duncan, of the : Muir ? j salmon fisher’s song! ? | Do we not? said Anna, the tears springing to her eyes; we have not forgotten one of them, nor Effie either, nor any thing we used to love in our own dear Scotland. 4 But how you are changed since that time, Dun- can, said Clara, with astonishment. 4 How delighted I am to see you again, cried he I shall have to tell my good old Effie about ut 7084 when I go back. ee Oo yes nee DY) : comicbooks.c % . “s of ra * =e a