PEASANT'S LOVE OF NATURE.

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about either lying doun or rising up, for some great change has been wrocht within the mysterious chambers o' the brain and cells o' the heart, and life's like a faded flower, scentless and shrivelled, yet are we loth to part with it, and even howp against a' howp that baith colour and brichtness may revive. But inexorable is the law o' the Dust.

North. Cheer

up-cheer up, James !

Shepherd. But you'll no let me for your face is as wintrylike as if it had never known a simmer smile. Lauch, sirlauch-and I'll do my best to be happy.

North (smiling). Time and place are as nothing to a wise man. My mind my kingdom is-and there I am monarch of all I

survey.

Shepherd. Weel quoted. But isna the Forest exceedin fair? And mayna the joy o' imagination, broodin open-eyed on its saft silent hills-ilka range in itsel like a ready-made dream-blend even wi' that o' conscience-till the sense o' beauty is felt to be almost ane wi' the sense o' duty, sae peacefu' is all around in nature, and all within the Shepherd's heart! I felt sae last Sabbath, as we were comin frae the kirk; for though the second Sabbath o' November—a season when I've kent the weather wild-sae still was the air, and in the mild sun sae warm, that but I missed the murmur o' the bee, I could hae thocht it simmer, or the glimpsin spring.

North. I have heard it said, my dear James, that shepherds, and herdsmen, and woodsmen, and peasants in general, have little or no feeling of the beauty of Nature. Is that true?

Shepherd. It canna weel be true, sir, seein that it's a lee. They hae een and ears in their heids, and a' the rest o' the seven senses-and is't denied that they hae hearts and sowls? Only grant that they're no a' born blin' and deaf-and that there's a correspondency atween the outward and the inward warlds—and then believe if you can, that the sang o' a bird, and the scent o' a flower, or the smell o't, if it hae nae scent, isna felt to be delichtfu' by the simplest, ay, rudest heart, especially after a shower, and at the comin out o' the rainbow.

North. Help yourself, my dear James.

Shepherd. They dinna flee into raptures at rocks, like toun folks, for that's a' folly or affectation; nor weary ye wi' nonsense about sunrise and sunset, and clouds and thunder, and

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WHAT IS BEAUTY?

mist stealin up the hills, and siclike clishmaclavers'—but they notice a' the changes on nature's face, and are spiritually touched-believe me, sir-by the sweeter and the mair solemn -the milder or the mair magnificent-for they never forget that nature is the wark o' an Almighty hand—and there is nae poetry like that o' religion.

North. Go on, James.

Shepherd. Is there nae description o' the beauty o' nature in the Bible? All the Christian world mair dearly loves the lily o' the field, for sake of a few divine words. None but poor men now read the New Testament. By none-I mean too few-they who do chiefly live in rural places-and how can they be insensible to the spirit breathing around them from the bosom of the happy earth?

North. Go on, my dear James.

Shepherd. Wha wrote a' our auld sangs? Wha wrote a' the best o' our ain day? In them is there nae love o' nature? Wha sing them? Wha get them by heart that canna sing? Lads and lassies o' laigh degree-but what signifies talkinonly think on that ae line,

"The Flowers o' the Forest are a' wede awa!" North. You need say no more, James.

Shepherd. Simple folk, sir, never think o' expatiatin on the beauties o' natur. A few touches suffice for them; and the mair hamely and familiar and common, the dearer to their hearts. The images they think of are never far-fetched, but seem to be lying about their very feet. But it is affection or passion that gives them unwonted beauty in their eyes, and that beauty is often immortalised by Genius that knows not it is Genius-believing itself to be but Love-in one happy word.

North. James, what is Beauty?

Shepherd. The feeling o' Pure Perfection as in a drap o' dew, a diamond, or a tear. There the feeling is simple; but it is complex as you gaze on a sweet-brier arrayed by Morn in millions o' dew-draps - - or on a woman's head, dark as nicht, adorned wi' diamonds as wi' stars-or on a woman's cheek, where the smile canna conceal the tear that has just fallen, in love or pity, frae her misty een, but the moment afore brichtblue as the heavenliest spot o' a' the vernal skies.

1 Clishmaclavers-senseless jargon.

BELL'S LIFE IN LONDON.

Tickler. Here come the oysters.

(Enter MR AMBROSE, solus, with more Natives.)

Shepherd. What newspaper's that?

185

North. Bell's Life in London-worth all the other Weeklies in a bunch-Examiner, Spectator, Atlas, and the rest.

Shepherd. Dinna say sae, sir. North. Well-I won't. Indeed, it is not true; for the papers I have mentioned-though I hate their politics as I hate the gates of hell-are in much admirable-and the three ablest of the kind ever published in Britain. But Bell's Life in London is the best sporting paper that ever flourished, and will circulate all over the Island long after many a philosophical penny-wiseacre, that pretends to despise it, has gone the way of all flesh.

Shepherd. Mair nor ane o' our farmers taks it in-and it used to be weel thoomed by your friend the Flying Tailor. Indeed, he had it filed for some years, and it brocht a great price at the sale o' his leebrary. Puir fallow! wi' what pride he used to turn up the leaf in ane o' the files, containin the account o' his beatin Christopher North at hap-step-and-loup! North. That's a lie, James. Bell's Life in London had then no existence.

Shepherd. Sae you confess he beat you?

North. It never was in his breeches; but I merely said, "that's a lie-Bell's Life in London had then no existence." We leapt, it is true

Shepherd. And he beat ye a' to sticks. But what for said ye "that's a lie"? I'm never sae rude. only say, when you happen to deviate frae the truth, "that's a lee." Noo, there's an essential difference atween thae twa words. "That's a lie" - pronounced in what tone you will is aye felt to be rather insultin; "that's a lee"-especially if pronounced wi' a sort o' a lauch--is but a britherly intimation that you should tak tent o' what you're sayin; for that, if you do not, everybody mayna choose to answer ye sae ceevilly, but may even impeach your veracity in direct terms.

North. It is a Chronicle-and a fair, and faithful, and most animated one—of the manly amusements of the gentlemen and the people of England-the Turf-the Chase-all the sports and games of the Field.

Shepherd. It's a curious fact, sir, o' my idiosyncrasy

186

SHEPHERD ON HORSE-RACING.

North. Your what, James?

Shepherd. Na-catch me, after gettin safely through a word o' sax syllables, tryin the adventure again the same nicht. But it's a curious fact o' my peculiar conformation o' character, that I tak the intensest interest in reading about actions and events that I wouldna gang a mile o' gate to see. There's horse-racin, on a regular coorse at Musselburgh, for purse, plate, or steaks. Naething to me mair wearisome in this wearisome world.

North. The Caledonian Hunt!

Shepherd. There sit the leddies in the grand-staun, sae high up, that for onything you can tell they may a' hae bairds. North. Ho! ho! you never look at the race.

Shepherd. The blaw o' the bonnets is bonny aneuch, and sae is a tulip-bed; but if a man in a booth below bids ye admire the beauty in the pink pelisse, they hae a' pink pelisses, or purple anes, which is just the same thing; and your een, after a' their glowerin, are just as likely as no to fa' on the blowzy face o' some auld dowager.

Tickler. A just punishment.

Shepherd. I've seen some gey bonny faces in the hired landaus alang the rapes-and the lassies in them are aye ready to gie a body a nod or a wink; but sic vehicles, it seems, are no reckoned genteel, though fu' o' parasols.

Tickler. They cannot possibly be vulgar, James, if full of parasols.

Shepherd. I thocht he had been sleepin. I gie a penny for a bill, and try to mak out the colour o' the horses and their riders. But a's initials. Why no prent meres, geldings, staigs, fillies, colts, and the rest o' the rinnin horses, at full length, to prevent confusion? I've compared them severally wi' the paper, ane after anither, as they cantered by the staun afore the start, and never yet could identify a single naig wi' his description. The uniform o' the jockeys is even mair puzzlin-sae that the minute after layin a croon, nae idea hae I on what beast I hae betted, when aff they set, a' haudin in, as if the race was to be won by the hindmost, and I tell my neighbour to let me ken whan they are beginnin to mak play.

North. That you may hedge?

Shepherd. I hae aye had mair sense.

For what's the use

o' hedgin on a green jacket when he comes in a black ane?

SHEPHERD DONE BROWN.

187

or on a black mere when she comes in a broon horse? or cryin "Crimson for a croon," meanin him that's a hunder and fifty yards afore a' the lave, when, after the heat, a wee wickit vretch, wi' a lang waistcoat and tap-boots, taps you on the shouther, and hauds out his haun, swearing that Purple has won in a canter, and that him that was really Crimson had broke doun, and was limpin by the distance-post?

North. On what principle do you make up your Book?
Shepherd. What'n book?

North. Your bet-book.

Shepherd. Catch me wi' a pocket-book o' ony kind on a racegrund. But the race was to hae been in heats. Ae horse wons ae heat-and anither horse wons anither-but never by ony accident him or her I was supposed to be bettin on, though I was not; and now, after a lang delay, and frequent ringin o' bells, comes what a' men are justifeed in believing to be the heat decisive o' the steaks. The horses do indeed seem most uncommon sleek and dry, and their colours not only to have brightened up most uncommon, but to have undergone a great change-for, lo and behold! an iron-grey and a chestnut, which I had never observed in the twa first heats—and, mair extraordinary still, and as appears to me no fair, five horses in the whole in place o' fowre-that set aff like a whurlwund! I cry, "Purple a pound!" certain that I am takin the naig that wan the last heat in a canter. The twa miles are ran in little mair than three minutes-and the same wee wickit vretch wi' the lang waistcoat and tap-boots taps me again on the shouther, and hauding out his open haun, swears that nae jockey wore purple; and I discover, to my consternation, that this was a different race-atween different horses-wi' different ridersand for different steaks-for that the ither race was as gude as dune; fand there by-and-by comes Purple to canter the coorse by himsel, as the condition was heats.

North. Done brown, James, on both sides, like a bit of dry toast.

Shepherd. O' the twunty thousand folk present, I dinna believe aboon five hunder ken, o' their ain knowledge, wha wons or wha loses a single steak.

North. Your losses have soured you, James, with the turf. Shepherd. I alloo my losses hae been considerable-for I canna hae lost at Musselburgh, during the last five years, less than five pounds sterling.