PROJECT ASHABI
African Stories. Limitless Worlds.
PROJECT ASHABI
African Stories. Limitless Worlds.

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Being extracts from the commonplace book of Penelope Hamilton
I. A Triangular Alliance. II. Edina, Scotia's Darling Seat. III. A Vision in Princes Street. IV. Susanna Crum cudna say. V. We emulate the Jackdaw. VI. Edinburgh society, past and present. VII. Francesca meets th' unconquer'd Scot. VIII. 'What made th' Assembly shine?'. IX. Omnia presbyteria est divisa in partes tres. X. Mrs. M'Collop as a sermon-taster. XI. Holyrood awakens. XII. Farewell to Edinburgh. XIII. The spell of Scotland.
XIV. The wee theekit hoosie in the loaning. XV. Jane Grieve and her grievances. XVI. The path that led to Crummylowe. XVII. Playing 'Sir Patrick Spens.' XVIII. Paris comes to Pettybaw. XIX. Fowk o' Fife. XX. A Fifeshire tea-party. XXI. International bickering. XXII. Francesca entertains the green-eyed monster. XXIII. Ballad revels at Rowardennan. XXIV. Old songs and modern instances. XXV. A treaty between nations. XXVI. 'Scotland's burning! Look out!.' XXVII. Three magpies and a marriage.
'Edina, Scotia's Darling seat! All hail thy palaces and towers!'
We have travelled together before, Salemina, Francesca, and I, and we know the very worst there is to know about one another. After this point has been reached, it is as if a triangular marriage had taken place, and, with the honeymoon comfortably over, we slip along in thoroughly friendly fashion. I use no warmer word than'friendly' because, in the first place, the highest tides of feeling do not visit the coasts of triangular alliances; and because, in the second place, 'friendly' is a word capable of putting to the blush many a more passionate and endearing one.
Every one knows of our experiences in England, for we wrote volumes of letters concerning them, the which were widely circulated among our friends at the time, and read aloud under the evening lamps in the several cities of our residence.
Since then few striking changes have taken place in our history.
Salemina returned to Boston for the winter, to find, to her amazement, that for forty odd years she had been rather overestimating it.

Arthur Conan Doyle