“I have just received your letter. I send you a draught for L.50, which you must make go as far as you can.
“There is what I have no doubt is a very idle report here, of your paying rather marked attention to one young lady in particular. I beg you would do nothing that can justify such a rumour, as it would excite my highest displeasure should you either entangle yourself or any other person. I am, and have always been, quite frank with you, and beg you will be equally so with me. One should, in justice to the young women they live with, be very cautious not to give the least countenance to such rumours. They are not easily avoided, but are always highly prejudicial to the parties concerned; and what begins in folly ends in serious misery—avis au lecteur.
“P.S.—I wish you could pick me up the Irish lilt of a tune to ‘Patrick Fleming.’ The song begins—
‘Patrick Fleming was a
gallant soldier,
He carried his musket over his shoulder.
When I cock my pistol, when I draw my raper,
I make them stand in awe of me, for I am a taker.
Falala,’ &c.
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54 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“From another verse in the same song, it seems the hero was in such a predicament as your own.
‘If you be Peter Fleming,
as I suppose you be, sir,
We are three pedlars walking on so free, sir.
We are three pedlars a-walking on to Dublin,
With nothing in our pockets to pay for our lodging.
Falala,’ &c.”
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