With similar dexterity, this marvellously clever lady figures on nearly a dozen different occasions in town and country, sometimes in one guise and sometimes in another, mystifying even the most incredulous by her manœuvres. About the best Mystification recorded is that in which as a daughter of a poor man, Sandy Reid in the Canongate, the lady imposed on Sir William Fettes, who had been Lord Provost in Edinburgh, and left a fortune to endow a college which is now in successful operation. We let Miss Stirling Graham relate the adventure. ‘I once got half-a-crown from Sir William Fettes when he was dining with a few friends at his sister, Mrs Bruce’s. She and Lady Fettes put it into my head to ask charity from him, in the character of a daughter of an old companion of his, whose name was Sandy Reid. And whether Sandy Reid ever had a daughter was nothing to the purpose. Sir William had lost sight of the man, and I had no previous knowledge that ever such a person was in existence. Dressed in a smart bonnet and shawl belonging to Lord Gillies’s housekeeper, I boldly rang the door-bell, and demanded of the servant if I could get a word of Sir William. ‘On the message being carried up-stairs, the ladies desired that the person who wished to speak with Sir William might be shewn into Mrs Bruce’s dressing-room, where behind the window-curtains were stationed a merry party of some half-a-dozen listeners. ‘Enter Sir William. “Well, my good woman, what is your business with me?” “To ask your help, sir, in behalf of the widow and the fatherless.” “And pray who are you?” “I am the daughter of ane Sandy Reid, who was weel kenned to your honour; his father lived next door to your father in the Canongate.” “Ay, are you the daughter of Sandy Reid?” “I am proud to say sae.” “And what has reduced you to this plight, my good woman?” “Just an ill marriage, Sir William.” “I am sorry for that; but you say you are a widow.” “I am no’ just a widow; but my husband has run aff wi’ another woman.” “That is very unfortunate; but what is your husband?” “A soldier, sir.” “An officer of the soldiers you mean, I suppose?” “Na, na, Sir William; he is but a single soldier.” “And did Sandy Reid’s daughter marry a single soldier?” (Weeping)—“It is o’er true, Sir William; but he was a bonny man, and I ne’er thought he would forsake me.” “And did your father consent to your marrying a single soldier?” “Oh, no, Sir William; but it was ordained.” “Have you any family, or any means of living?” “I have five boys; and I wash and iron, and do all I can to get bread to them.” “Where do you live?” “In Elder Street.” “In Elder Street! that seems to me rather an expensive part of the town for a person in your circumstances.” “It is but a garret, sir, up four pair of stairs.”