THE DEVIL AMONG THE TAILORS.

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ower the wide warld. The streck changed them into demons. They cursed, they swore, they drank, they danced, they focht-first wi' whatever folk happened to fa' in wi' them on the stravaigand then, castin out amang theirsels, wi' ane anither, till they had a' three black een-and siccan noses!

Tickler. 'Tis difficult for an impartial, because unconcerned, spectator to divine the drift of the different parties in a fight of three.

Shepherd. They couldna hae divined it theirsels-for there was nae drift amang them to divine. There they were a' three lounderin at hap-hazard, and then gaun heid-ower-heels on the tap o' ane anither, or colleckit in a knot in the glaur; and I couldna help sayin to Mr Bryden-father o' your favourite Watty Bryden, to whom ye gied the tortoise-shell mullSaw ye ever, sir, a Tredd's-Union like that?"

Tickler. Why not import?

Shepherd. As they hae dune since in Lunnon frae Germany? Just because naebody thocht o't. Importin tailors to insure free tredd!!

Tickler. And how fared the Forest?

Shepherd. No weel. Some folk began tailorin for theirsels —but there was a strong prejudice against it—and to them that made the attempp the result was baith ridiculous and painfu', and in ae case, indeed, had nearly proved fatal.

Tickler. James, how was that?

Shepherd. Imagine yoursel, Mr Tickler, in a pair o' breeks, wi' the back pairt afore—the seat o' honour transferred to the front

North. Let us all so imagine, Tickler.

Shepherd. They shaped them sae, without bein' able to help it, for it's a kittle airt cuttin out.

Tickler. But how fatal?

Shepherd. Dandy o' Dryhope, in breeks o' his ain gettin up, rashly daured to ford the Yarrow-but they grupped him sae ticht atween the fork, that he could mak nae head gain'1 the water comin doun gey strang, and he was swoopit aff his feet, and taen out mair like a bundle o' claes than a man.

Tickler. How?

Shepherd. We listered him like a fish.

North. "Time and the hour run through the roughest day!" 1 Gain'-against.

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NORTH BEATEN BY THE FLYING TAILOR.

Shepherd. And a' things yerthly hae an end. Sae had the streck. To mak a lang story short- the Forest stood it out the tailors gied in- and the Tredd's-Union fell to pieces. But no before the Season o' Tailors was lang ower, and pairt o' the simmer too-for they didna return to their wark till the Langest Day. It was years afore the rebels recovered frae the want o' wage and the waste o' pose;1 but atween 1804 and 1808, a' three married, and a' three, as you ken, Mr Northfor I hae been direckin mysel to Mr Tickler and Mr Buller hae been ever sin' syne weel-behaved and weel-to-do-and I never see ony o' them without their tellin me to gie you their compliments, mair especially the tailor o' Yarrow Ford,- for Watty o' the Pen-him, Mr Buller, that used to be ca'd the Flyin Tailor o' Ettrick-sometimes fears that Christopher North hasna got ower yet the beatin he gied him in the ninety-odd-the year Louis XVI. was guillotined—at hapstap-and-loup.

North. He never beat me, Mr Buller.

Buller. From what I have heard of you in your youth, sir, indeed I can hardly credit it. Pardon my scepticism, Mr Hogg.

Shepherd. You may be as great a sceptic as you choosebut Watty bate Kitty a' till sticks.

North. You have most unkindly persisted, Hogg, during all these forty years, in refusing to take into account my

corns

Shepherd. Corns or nae corns, Watty bate you a' till sticks. North. Then I had been fishing all day up to the middle in the water, with a creel forty pound weight on my back

Shepherd. Creel or nae creel, Watty bate you a' to sticks. North. And I had a hole in my heel you might have put your hand into

Shepherd. Sound heels or sair heels, Watty bate you a' to sticks.

North. And I sprained one of my ankles at the first rise. Shepherd. Though you had sprained baith, Watty wad hae bate you a' till sticks.

North. And those accursed corduroys cut me

Shepherd. Dinna curse the corduroys-for in breeks or out o' breeks, Watty bate ye a' till sticks.

1 Pose-a secret hoard of money; savings.

THE LONGEST DAY.

North. I will beat him yet for a

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Shepherd. You shanna be alloo'd to mak sic a fule o' yoursel. You were ance the best louper I ever saw-excepp ane —and that ane was wee Watty o' the Pen-the Flyin Tailor o' Ettrick-and he bate ye a' till sticks.

North. Well I have done, sir. All people are mad on some one point or other-and your insanity

Shepherd. Mad, or no mad, Watty bate you a' till sticks. North. Peter, let off the gas. (Rising with marked displeasure.) Shepherd. O man! but that's puir spite! Biddin Peter let aff the gas, merely 'cause I tauld Mr Buller what a' the Forest kens to be true, that him the bairns noo ca' the AULD HIRPLIN HURCHEON, half-a-century sin', at hap-stap-and-loup, bate Christopher North a' till sticks!

North (with great vehemence). Let off the gas, you stone ! Shepherd. That's pitifu'! Ca'in a man a stane! a man that has been sae lang too in his service-and that has gien him nae provocation-for it wasna Peter but me that was obleeged to keep threepin that Watty o' the Pen-by folk o' my time o' life never ca'd onything less than the Flying Tailor o' Ettrick, though by bairns never ca'd onything mair but the Auld Hirplin Hurcheon, at hap-stap-and-loup-on fair level mossy grun'-bate him a' till sticks.

North (in a voice of thunder). You son of a sea-gun, let off the gas.

Shepherd. Passion's aften figurative, and aye forgetfu'. But I fear he'll be breakin a bluid-veshel-sae I'll remind him o' the siller bell. Peter has orders never to shaw his neb but at soun' o' the siller bell.-Sir, you've forgotten the siller bell. Play tingle-tingle-tingle-ting.

North (ringing the silver bell). Too bad, James. Peter, let off the gas. [PETER lets off the gas, Shepherd. Ha! the bleeze o' Morn! Amazin! 'Twas shortly after sunset when the gas was let on—and noo that the gas is let aff, lo! shortly after sunrise!

Buller. With us there has been no night.

Shepherd. Yesterday was the Twunty-first o' June-the Langest Day. We could hae dune without artificial lichtfor the few hours o' midnicht were but a gloamin—and wẹ could hae seen to read prent.

Buller. A deep dew,

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VIEW FROM THE LEADS.-BREAKFAST.

North. As may be seen by the dry lairs in the wet grass of those cows up and at pasture.

Shepherd. Naebody else stirrin. Look, there's a hare washin her face like a cat wi' her paw. Eh man! look at her three leverets, like as mony wee bit bears.

Buller. I had no idea there were so many singing birds so near the suburbs of a great city.

Shepherd. Hadna ye? In Scotland we ca' that the skreigh o' day.

North. What has become of the sea?

Shepherd. The sea! somebody has opened the sluice, and let aff the water. Na-there it's-fasten your een upon yon great green shadow-for that's Inchkeith-and you'll sune come to discern the sea waverin round it, as if the air grew glass, and the glass water, while the water widens out intil the Firth, and the Firth awa intil the Main. Is yon North Berwick Law or the Bass-or baith-or naither-or a cape o' cloudland, or a thocht?

North.

"Under the opening eyelids of the morn."

Shepherd. See! Specks-like black water-flees. The boats o' the Newheeven fishermen. Their wives are snorin yet wi' their heads in mutches-but wull sune be risin to fill their creels. Mr Buller, was you ever in our Embro' Fish-Market? Buller. No. Where is it, sir?

Shepherd. In the Parliament Hoose.

Buller. In the Parliament House?

Shepherd. Are you daft? Aneath the North Brig.

Buller. You said just now it was in the Parliament House. Shepherd. Either you or me has been dreamin. But, Mr North, I'm desperate hungry-are ye no intendin to gie us ony breakfast?

North (ringing the silver bell). Lo! and behold!

(Enter PETER, AMBROSE, KING PEPIN, SIR DAVID GAM,

and TAPPYTOORIE, with trays.)

Shepherd. Rows het frae the oven! Wheat scones! Barley scones! Wat and dry tost! Cookies! Baps! Muffins! Loaves and fishes! Rizzars! Finnans! Kipper! Speldrins! Herring! Marmlet! Jeely! Jam! Ham! Lamb! Tongue! Beef hung! Chickens! Fry! Pigeon pie! Crust and broon aside the Roon'-but sit ye doun-no-freens, let's staun'

A CREATURE OF THE ELEMENT.

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had up your haun-bless your face-North, gie's a grace.— (NORTH says grace). Noo let's fa' too-but hooly-hoolyhooly-what vision this! What vision this! An Apparition or a Christian Leddy! I ken, I ken her by her curtshy-did that face no tell her name and her nature.-O deign, Mem, to sit doun aside the Shepherd.-Pardon me―tak the head o' the table, ma honoured Mem-and let the Shepherd sit doun aside YOU-and may I mak sae bauld as to introduce Mr Buller to you, Mem? Mr Buller, clear your een-for on the Leads o' the Lodge, in face o' heaven and the risin sun, I noo introduce you till MRS GENTLE.

North (starting and looking wildly round). Ha!

Shepherd. She's gane!

North (recovering some of his composure). Too bad, James. Shepherd. Saw you nocht? Saw naebody ocht?

Omnes. Nothing.

Shepherd. A cretur o' the element! Like a' the ither loveliest sichts that veesit the een o' us mortals-but the dream o' a dream! But, thank heaven, a's no unsubstantial in this warld o' shadows. Were ony o' us to say sae, this breakfast would gie him the lee! Noo, Gurney, mind hoo ye extend your short-haun.

Small still Voice. Ay, ay, sir.

Buller. "O Gurney! shall I call thee bird, or but a wandering voice!"

North.

"O blessed Bird! the world we pace
Again appears to be

An unsubstantial faery-place,

That is fit home for Thee !"