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ane anither's arms-let's kiss ane anither's cheek-as the guid cheevalry knichts used to do-when, ha'in fa'en out aboot some leddy-luve, or some disputed laun', or some king's changefu' favour, or aiblins aboot naething ava but the stupit lees o' some evil tongues, they happened to forgather when riding opposite ways through a wood, and flingin themsels, wi' ae feelin and ae thocht, aff their twa horses, cam clashin thegither wi' their mailed breists, and began sobbin in the silence o' the auncient aiks that were touched to their verra cores to see sic forgiveness and sic affection atween thae twa stalwart champions, wha, though baith noo weepin like weans or women, had aften ridden side by side thegither, wi' shields on their breists and lang lances shootin far out fearsomely afore them, intil the press o' battle, while their chargers, redwat-shod, gaed gallopin wi' their hoofs that never ance touched the grun' for men's faces bashed bluidy, and their sodden corpses squelchin at every spang o' the flying dragons. But what do I mean by a' this talkin to mysel? — Pity me North - but you're white's a ghaist! Let me bear ye in my airms intil the Tent. [SHEPHERD carries NORTH into the Tent. North. I was much to blame, James-but

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- Mr

Shepherd. I was muckle mair to blame mysel nor you, sir—

and

North. Why, James, it is by no means improbable that you

were

ye

Shepherd. O auld Autocrat! But will ye promise megin I promise ye

North. Anything, James, in the power of mortal man to perform.

Shepherd. Gie's your haun! Noo repeat the words after me-(NORTH keeps earnestly repeating the words)—I swear, in this Tent pitched in the Fairy's Cleugh, in presence o' Timothy Tickler and Sam An

North. They are not in the Tent.

Shepherd. I wasna observin. That's delicate. That I wull never breathe a whusper even to ma ain heart at the laneliest hour o' midnicht-except it be when I am sayin my prayers-dinna sab, sir-o' ony misunderstaunin that ever happened atween us twa either about Mawga, or ony ither toppicas lang's I leeve-an' am no deserted by my senses —but am left in fu' possession o' the gift o' reason; an' I noo dicht aff the tablets o' my memory ilka letter o' ony ugly

26

THE SHEPHERD WAKENS THE FOREST.

record, that the enemy, takin advantage o' the corruption o' our fallen natur-contreeved to scarify there, wi' the pint o' an airn pen-red-het frae yon wicked place-I noo dicht them a' aff, just as I dicht aff frae this table thae wine-draps wi' ma sleeve and I forgie ye frae the verra bottom o' ma sowlwi' as perfeck forgiveness-as if you were my ain brither, deein at hame in his father's house-shune after his return frae a lang voyage outower the sea!

[NORTH and the SHEPHERD again embrace—their faces wax exceedingly cheerful-and they sit for a little while without saying a word.

North. My dear James, have you dined?

Shepherd. Dined? Why, man, I've had ma fowre-hours. But I maun tell ye a' about it. A bit lassie, you see, that had come to your freen Scottie's to pay a visit to a sister o' hers—a servant in the family — that was rather dwinin-frae the kintra down about Annadale-wise, past by the Tent in the grey o' the morning, yesterday, afore ony ane o' you were out o' the blankets, except a cretur that, frae the description, maun hae been Tappytoorie, and she learned frae him that the Tent belanged to a great lord they ca'd North-Lord North-and that he had come out on a shootin and a fishin ploy, and, forby, to tak a plan o' a' the hills, in order to mak a moddle o' them in cork, wi' quicksiller for the lochs and rinnin waters, and sheets o' beaten siller for the waterfa's, and o' beaten gold for the element at sunset-and that twa ither shinin characters were in his rettenue-wham Tappy ca'd to her— as she threeped'-Sir Teemothy Tickleham, Bart., o' Southside, and the Lord High Registrar o' Lunnon. Ma heart lap to ma mouth, and then after some flutterin becam as heavy's a lump o' cauld lead. The wife gied me sic a smile! And then wee Jamie was a' the while, in his affectionat way, leanin again' ma knee. I took a walk by mysel; and a' was licht. Forthwith I despatched some gillies to wauken the Forest. I never steekit an ee, and by skreigh o' day was aff on the beast. But I couldna ken how ye micht be fennin3 in the Tent for fish, sae I thocht I micht as weel tak a whup at the Meggat. How they lap! I filled ma creel afore the dew-melt; and as it's out o' the poo'r o' ony mortal man wi' a heart to gie ower fishin in the Meggat durin a tak, I kent 2 Skreigh o' day-break of day. 4 Lap-leaped.

1 Threeped-asserted.
3 Fennin-faring.

2

A GOOD DAY'S FISHING.

27

by the sun it was nine-hours, and by that time I had filled a' ma pouches, the braid o' the tail o' some o' them whappin again' ma elbows. You'll no be surprised, Mr North-for though you're far frae bein' sic a gude angler as you suppose, and as you cry yoursel up in Mawga, oh! but you're mad fond o't-that I had clean forgotten the beast! After a lang search I fand him a mile doun the water, and ma certes, for the next twa hours the gress didna grow aneath his heels. I took a hantle o' short cuts, for I ken the kintra better than ony fox. But I forgot I wasna on foot-the beast got blawn, and comin up the Fruid,' reested wi' me on Garlet-Dod. The girth burst-aff fell the saddle, and he fairly laid himsel doun! I feared he had brak his heart, and couldna think o' leavin him, for, in his extremity, I kent the raven o' Gameshope wad hae picked out his een. Sae I just thocht I wad try the Fruid wi' the flee, and put on a professor. The Fruid's fu' o' sma' troots, and I sune had a string. I couldna hae had about me, at this time, ae way and ither, in ma several repositories, string and a', less than thretty dizzen o' troots. I heard the yaud nicherin, and kent he had gotten second wun', sae having hidden the saddle among the brackens, munted, and lettin him tak it easy for the first half-hour, as I skirted Earlshaugh holms I got him on the haun-gallop, and I needna tell you o' the Arab-like style in which I feenally brocht him in, for, considering that I carried wecht, you'll alloo he wad be cheap at a hunder guineas, and for that soum, sir, the beast's your ain !-Rax me ower the jug.—But didna I see a naked man? [Re-enter TICKLER and the REGISTRAR. Tickler. O King of the Shepherds, mayst thou live for ever! Shepherd (looking inquisitively to NORTH). Wha's he that? (Turning to TICKLER)-Sir! you've the advantage of me-for I really cannot say that I ever had the pleasure o' seein you atween the een afore; but you're welcome to our Tent-sit doun, and gin ye be dry, tak a drink.

Registrar. James ?

Shepherd. Ma name's no James.

But what though it was?

Folk shouldna be sae familiar at first sicht. (To NORTH in an under-tone)-A man o' your renown, sir, should really be mair seleck.

Tickler. I beg pardon, sir-but I mistook you for that halfwitted body the Ettrick Shepherd.

1 A tributary of the Tweed.

2 A fly, so called after Professor Wilson.

28

A SET-TO WITH TICKLER.

Shepherd. Ane can pardon ony degree o' stoopidity in a fallow that has sunk sae laigh in his ain esteem, as weel's in that o' the warld, as to think o' retreevin his character by pretendin to pass himsel aff, on the mere strength o' the length o' his legs, for sic an incorrigible ne'er-do-weel as Timothy Tickler. But let me tell you, you had better keep a gude tongue in your head, or I'll maybe tak you by the cuff o' the neck, and turn ye out o' the Tent.

North (to the SHEPHERD in an under-tone). Trot him, James -trot him-he's sensitive.

Shepherd. You maybe ken him? Is't true that he's gotten intil debt, and that Southside's adverteezed?

Tickler (colouring). It's a lie.

Shepherd. That pruves it to be true. Nay, it amaist, too, pruves you to be Tickler. Oh! nae mair nonsense-nae mair nonsense, sir-Southside, Southside-but I'm happier to see you, sir, than tongue can tell-but as the heart knoweth its ain bitterness, sae knoweth it its ain sweetness too; and noo that I'm sittin again atween you twa-(putting one arm over CHRISTOPHER'S shoulder, and one over TIMOTHY's, starting up and rushing round the circular)—"gude faith, I'm like to greet." Sam! Sam! Sam!

Registrar. God bless you, James.

Shepherd. And hae ye come a' the way frae Lunnon to the Fairy's Cleugh? And werena ye intendin to come out to Altrive to see the auld Shepherd? Oh! but we were a' glad, man, to hear o' your appointment, though nane o' us ken very distinckly the nature o't, some sayin they had made you a Bishop, only without a seat among the Lords, some a Judge o' the Pleas; and there was a sugh for a while—but frae you're bein' here the noo, during the sittin o' Parliament, that canna weel be true-that the King, by the recommendation o' Lord Broom and Vox, had appointed you his Premier, on the death o' Yearl Grey; but tell me, was the lassie richt after a' in denominatin ye, on the authority o' Tappytoorie, Lord High Registrar o' Lunnon, and is the post a sinecure, and a free gift o' the Whigs?

Registrar. That, James, is my appointment-but 'tis no sinecure. The duties are manifold, difficult, and important. North. I wish somebody would knock me down for a song. Shepherd. I'll do that but recollect- -nae fawsettoes-I canna thole fawsettoes-a verra tailor micht be ashamed o'

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fawsettoes-for fawsettoes mak ye think o' something less than the ninety-ninth pairt o' a man—and that's ten times less than a tailor-and amaist naething ava-sae that the man vanishes intil a pint. Nae fawsettoes.

(NORTH sings.)

TUNE-" John Anderson my Joe."

Sam Anderson, my Joe Sam, when first I saw that face,
You then were quite a beau, Sam, a lad of life and grace,
But now you're turning grave, Sam, your speech is short and slow,
You've got a cursed official look, Sam Anderson, my Joe!

Sam Anderson, my Joe Sam, when Blackwood first began
To try his canny hand, Sam, at each and all he ran—
And you among the rest, Sam, the world was made to know,
A burning and a shining light, Sam Anderson, my Joe!

Sam Anderson, my Joe Sam, when in the claret trade,
A customer right good, Sam, unto yourself you made,
But sober as a judge, Sam, you now to bed must go-
Ay, sober as a Chancellor, Sam Anderson, my Joe!

Sam Anderson, my Joe Sam, how sportive were the tricks
That on the "general question,” Sam, beat Peter1 all to sticks,
But Peter now will rise, Sam, upon your overthrow—
You're all on affidavit now, Sam Anderson, my Joe!

Sam Anderson, my Joe Sam, in days of youthful glee,
You sported in the shade, Sam, beneath your mulberry-tree-
But strains of rural love, Sam, you must, alas! forego,
Now "kiss the calf-skin"'s all your song, Sam Anderson, my Joe.

Sam Anderson, my Joe Sam, you've been in many a scrape,
But still with wit or luck, Sam, you've managed to escape-
But now your friends, the Whigs, Sam, have taken you in tow--
They've got your head in Chancery, Sam Anderson, my Joe!

Tickler. That must be all Greek to you, James.

Registrar. The less you say, the better, Tim, about Greek. The Shepherd was not with us when I sung a scrap of old Eubulus-but

1 See ante, p. 22, note. One of "Peter's" most amusing after-dinner exhibitions was a discourse on the "general question"—that is, a nonsensespeech on everything and nothing.

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