NORTH.

Methinks I see him-his slight slender figure restless with a spirit that knew no rest-his face so suddenly changeful in its expression from what a stranger might have thought habitual gravity, into what his friends knew to be native there-glee irrepressible and irresistible-the very madness of mirth, James, in which the fine ether of animal spirits seemed to respire the breath of genius, and to shed through the room, or the open air, a contagion of cheerfulness, against which no heart was proof, however sullen, and no features could stand, however grim-but still all the company, Canters and Covenanters inclusive, relaxed and thawed into murmurs of merriment, even as the strong spring sunshine sends a-singing the bleak frozen moorstreams, till all the wilderness is alive with music.

SHEPHERD.

He was indeed a canty cretur-a delichtfu' companion.

NORTH.

I hear his voice this moment within my imagination, as distinct as if it were speaking. 'Twas exceedingly pleasant.

SHEPHERD.

It was that. Verra like Sandy's-only a hue merrier, and a few beats in the minute faster. Oh, sir! hoo he wou'd hae enjoyed the Noctes, and hoo the Noctes wou'd hae enjoyed him!

NORTH.

In the midst of our merriment, James, often has that thought come over me like a cloud.

Mony a strange story fell down stane-dead when his tongue grew mute. Thoosands o' curious, na, unaccountable anecdotes, ceased to be, the day his een were closed; for he telt them, sir, as ye ken, wi' his een mair than his lips; and his verra hawns spak, when he snapped his forefinger and his thoomb, or wi' the hail five spread out-and he had what I ca' an elegant hawn' o' fine fingers, as maist wutty men hae-manually illustrated his soobjeck, till the words gaed aff, murmuring like bees frae the tips, and then Johnny was quate again for a minute or sae, till some ither freak o' a fancy came athwart his genie, and instantly loupt intil look, lauch, or speech -or rather a' the three thegither in ane, while Sir Walter himsell keckled on his chair, and leanin' wi' thae extraordinar' chowks o' his, that aften seem to me amaist as expressive as his pile o' forehead, hoo wou'd he fix the grey illumination o' his een on his freen Johnny, and ca' him by that familiar name, and by the sympathy o' that maist capawcious o' a' sowles, set him clean mad-richt doon wudd a'thegither-till really, sir, he got untholeably divertin', and folk compleen'd o' pains in their sides, and sat wi' the tears rinnin' doon their cheeks, praying him for gudeness to haud his tongue, for that gin he didna, somebody or ither wou'd be fa'in doun in a fit, and be carried out dead.

NORTH.

A truce, my dear James, to all such dreams. Yet pleasant, though mournful to the soul, is the memory of joys that are past! And never, methinks, do we feel the truth of that beautiful sentiment more tenderly, than when dimly passeth before our eyes, along the mirror of imagination,-for I agree with thee, thou sagest of Shepherds, that when the heart is finely touched by some emotion from the past, the mirror of imagination and of memory is one and the same, held up as if in moonlight by the hands of Love or Friendship,-never feel we the truth of that beautiful sentiment more tenderly, I repeat, James, than when we suddenly re-behold there the image-the shadow of some face that when alive wore a smile of perpetual sunshine-somewhat saddened now, though cheerful still, in the momentary vision-and then, as we continue to gaze upon it, undergoing sad obscuration, and soon disappearing in total eclipse.

Enter MR AMBROSE, MONS. CADET, KING PEPIN, SIR DAVID GAM, TAPPITOURIE, and the PECH, with Tea, Coffee, Toast, Muffins, &c.

SHEPHERD,

When a body has had an early dinner, what a glorious meal's the FOUREOORS! Hooly-hooly, lads. Aye-that's richt, Tappy-just set doon the muffins there close to ma nieve; oh! but they seem sappy! Sir Dawvit, be ye baronet or be ye knicht, you've a fine ee for the balancin' o' a table, or ye had never clashed doon on that spat thae creeshy crampets. Pippin, you're a dextrous cretur, wi' your ashets o' wat and dry toast. And oh! my man Pechy! but you've a stoot back and a strong arm to deposit wi' sic an air o' majesty that twa-quartern loaf fresh frae the baker's, and steamin' as sweet's a bank o' vi'lets after a shower.-Mr Awmrose, ye needna bile ony mair eggs-for though they're no verra big anes, yet whatever the size, sax is ma number-thae bit chickens maun hae belanged to a late cleckin'But whare's the Roond?-Aye-aye-Prince o' Picardy! I see ye bearin' him frae the bit side-boardie.-Noo attend to Mr North, Mr Awmrose, and dinna mind me-tak tent o' Mr North, sir-and see that he wants for naething-for I discern by the glegness o' the een o' him, that he's yaup-yaup ―yaup-and's sharpenin' his teeth wi' the fork, till you hear them raspin' like a mower whettin' his scythe.

Angels and ministers o' grace defend us-what the deevil's thae?

What think ye, James?

NORTH.

SHEPHERD.

Hauns! Human hauns! Preserved human hauns! Pickled human hauns! The preserved and pickled human hauns o' a Christian!

Well-what although?

NORTH.

SHEPHERD.

Weel! what altho'? Are they a present frae Dr Knox, or his freen Hare? Aiblins the verra hauns o' Burke himsell! What throttlers!

NORTH.

Why, they are throttlers, James-but they never belonged in life to any of the gang.

SHEPHERD.

That's a great relief-But excuse me, sir, for haudin' my nose-for I fear they're stinkin'.

NORTH.

Sweet, I assure you, James, as the downy fist o' a virgin, yet warm from her own bosom. Bear-paws from Scandinavia-a Christmas-present from my intrepid friend Lloyd, now Schall-king of the Frozen Forests.

Let's pree them.

SHEPHERD.

[The SHEPHERD takes one Paw, and NORTH another, and they both begin to masticate.

Exquisite !

AMBO.

SHEPHERD.

Are ye at the taes, sir?

NORTH.

I am.

SHEPHERD.

Mines is picket as clean's an ivory kaim for the tap-knot o' a bit bonnie Noo for the paw ms.

Eh? Oh! but the pawms is prime. The ile o' pawms! Far better nor the ignorant warld suspecks. Nae wunner the beasts sooks them in their

wunter-caves.

NORTH.

Try your paw with chicken, James.

SHEPHERD.

I'm dooin' sae, sir. Frae this time, henceforit and for evermair, hoo wersh the race o' hams! What's pig-face to bear-paw!

Hyperion to a Satyr.

NORTH.

SHEPHERD.

Say Satyr to Hyperion, sir. Mine's anatameezed-and lo! the skeleton! O the wonnerfu' warks o' natur!

There!

NORTH.

SHEPHERD.

What'n a what! I'm hungrier than if I had ate a hale solan guse. What'n a what!

[There is silence in the Snuggery from half-past seven till half-past eight; or, rather, a sound like the whutter of wild-fowl on the feed along a mud-bank, by night, in Poole Harbour, at low-water, as described by Colonel Hawker.

I was just going to propose it, James. Suppose we have a little poetry.

SHEPHERD,

What a cauld squash o' poetry's this we've had blawn intil our faces o' late, like sae mony blashy shoors o' sleet? But Stoddart has genius.

NORTH.

He has. Let us speak now of the great masters. Lean back, Jameshand over head-and pull out the volume it chances to light on-one or other of the works of the Immortals.

SHEPHERD (obeying the mandate.)

Muir's Life o' Byron-First vollum! Whan are we to hae the second ?

NORTH.

I know not. Probably ere next Noctes.

SHEPHERD.

I'm wearyin' unco sair for the second vollum. But our carrier, when he's gotten a heavy load o' the necessaries o' life, sic as vivers, and pots and pans, and ither hou sehold utensils,aye leaves ahint him at Selkirk a' pair

shels that he jalouses may conteen byeuks, "Especially," quo' he, "thae great muckle clumsy square anes ye ca' quartos."

Not so with Maga?

NORTH.

SHEPHERD.

Na, na! A bale o' Blackwood's as light as a feather, and he swears that his beast never reests on the steyist brae gin Maga's aboard. The buoyancy o' the bale, sir, gars his cart dance alang a' the ups and downs i' the road through the Forest, like a bit pleasure yott tilting outowre the waves at Windermere Regatta.

Poetry!

NORTH.

SHEPHERD.

I can tell ye a curious tale aboot this quarto. It lay for the best part o' a moon amang some cheeses, at Selkirk, afore it was discovered by some weans to be a byeuk, by means o' the broon paper and the direction, and was forwarded at last to Mount Benger in a return cart loaded wi' strae. But Gudefallow clean forgot that his lordship was there, and sae by some queer mischance he got bundled up intil the laft, and mair nor a month afterwards, you may guess the surprise o' ane o' the hizzies that had gaen up for fodder, when a great big broon square paper pairshel bounced out o' her lap in the byre

Poor Girzzy!

NORTH.

SHEPHERD.

-to the sair disappointment o' Crummie, wha, after smellin' an' snokin' an' snortin' at it for a while, began cavin' her head like a dementit cretur, and then ettlin' to toss't out o' the door, gettin't entangled by the twine on the point o' ane o' her horns, she brak oot o' the byre, as if stung by a gadflee, or some divine æstrum

Classical!

NORTH.

SHEPHERD.

and then doon the knowe, across the holm, owre the Yarrow, up the brae, and oot o' sicht ahint the hill, richt awa like a red-deer, clean out the region o' Yarrow a'thegither, and far awa ayont the head o' Ettrick into the verra heart o' Eskdalemuir, whar she was fun', days after, sair forfeuchan, ye may weel suppose, wi' the Beeography across her een, just as if she had been a bill gien to stickin', wi' a brodd on his griesly forehead. A' the shepherds, ye ken, sir, are gude scholars in our region-and him that first fand her was the President o' the Eskdalemuir Spootin', Theological, and Philosophical Club. Puttin' on his specs-for he's a gae auld cretur-he sune made oot the inscription in capitals on the forehead o' the beast-" JAMES HOGG, ESQ., MOUNT BENGER, YARROW, BY SELKIRK," and then in Eetalics aneath-" To be forwarded by the first opportunity.”

NORTH.

That must have been a poser to the President.

SHEPHERD.

It was that, sir. Nor was his perplexity diminished by the twa sma' words in ane o' the corners-" Per mail." The mail hasna begun yet to rin that road, ye ken, sir, in the shape o' a cotch, and the President himsell confessed to me, on tellin' the tale, that amang the multitude o' oot-o'-the-way thochts that crooded intil his brain, to account for the faynomenon,―ane o' them was, that in this age o' inventions, when some newfangled notion or ither, oot o' some ingenious noddle, is pitten daily intil practice for expeditin' human intercoorse, the coo was an express

NORTH.

Hee-hee-hee! James, you tickle my fancy, and I get slightly convulsed about the midriff.

SHEPHERD.

Yes, sir-that the coo was an express sent by Mr Elliot o' Selkirk.

Instead of a carrier-pigeon.

NORTH.

SHEPHERd.

Just sae, sir. And that the coo, haen been bred in Eskdalemuir, had returned to the spat o' her nativity, eager to browse the pasturage on which she had fed when a young and happy quey. Howsomever, to mak a lang story short, our freen contrived to get the quarto aff Crummie's horns, and brocht it doon, neist day, himsell to Mount-Benger, when, by layin' a' our heads thegither, we cam to see intil the heart o' the mystery, which, like maist others, when severely scrutineezed, degenerated intil an accountable though somewhat uncommon fack.

NORTH.

Open the volume, James, at haphazard-and let the first page that meets your eyes be the text of our discursive dialogue.

Sall I read it out, sir?

SHEPHERD.

NORTH.

Do, ore rotundo, like a Grecian. What seems it about?

SHEPHERD.

The marriages of men o' genius-if I dinna mistak

NORTH.

Hark! and lo! [The time-piece strikes nine, and enter PICARDY and Tail, with the materiel. They sweep away the "Reliquias Danaûm,” and deposit all things needful in their place.

Clever chiels, thae, sir.

SHEPHERD.

NORTH.

I hope, James, that Mr Moore will strike out of the volume, before it becomes an octavo, that misbegotten, misconceived, misdelivered, misplaced, and mistimed abortion

SHEPHERD.

What'n a skrow o' misses, like a verra boardin'-school let'n lowse; puir bit things, I pity them-a' walkin' by themsells, rank and file, twa deep, the feck o' them gae'n sickly, and greenin' for hame-But no to purshue that eemage-what was you beginnin' till abuse, sir, when I interuppit you about the misses?

NORTH.

Mr Moore's Homily on Husbands.

SHEPHERD.

He says "The truth is, I fear, that rarely, if ever, have men of the higher order of genius shown themselves fitted for the calm affections and comforts that form the cement of domestic life." Hoots-toots! Tootshoots! Hoots-hoots! Toots-toots!

NORTH.

You are severe, James, but your strictures are just.

SHEPHERD.

The warst apothegm that ever was kittled in the shape o' a paradox; and then, sir, the expression's as puir's the thocht. The cawm affections-if by them Mr Muir means a' the great natural affections, and he can mean naething else are no the " cement" merely o' domestic life, but they are its Sowle, its Essence, its Being, Itsell! Cement's a sort o' lime or slime

NORTH.

I should not quarrel with the words, James, if their meaning

SHEPHERD.

But I do quarrel wi' the words, sir, and they deserve to hae their noses pou'd for leears. I recolleck the passage perfeckly weel, and it's as easy to rend it intil flinders, as to tear to rags a rotten blanket left by some gypsy on a nyeuck by the roadside. Tak you the byeuck, sir-for you're amaist as gude an elecutionist as Mr Knowles himsell. You're twa natural readers -wi' a' your art-therein you're aboot equal-but in action and gesture, sir, he beats you sair.