THE PERIODICAL NOT THE ONLY PRESS.

35

called on for his defence, "but the trembling coward, who forsook his master," was at first tongue-tied, then stuttered an unintelligible palinode, and finally strove in vain to inflict as sore a wound on the patience as on the principles of the public, by a series of paragraphs ashamed of their own truckling imbecility, and anxious to crawl away from contempt into oblivion.

Tickler. For fifteen years was the Courier laid duly every morning on my breakfast-table, and I asked no better Journal. It is gone-and the Standard has taken its place. But not soon-if ever-will the Standard freshen for me even a townbought egg, as the Courier did so long; nor, at my time of life, am I fond of changing an old friend for a new. But if an old friend will desert me-and himself-and all that ever bound us in amity—"if he prove Haggard, then whistle him down the wind"-I forget the quotation-James

Shepherd. Why, sir, let him go to the devil and shake himself. North. I still have a kindness for him—and I shall never again utter a syllable against him-may he repent for seven years in sackcloth and ashes;-at the close of that term, I may again become a subscriber-till then

66 Therefore, eternal silence be his doom!"

Shepherd. The press? What! is there nae ither Press than the periodical? Nae ither periodicals but newspapers? Thank God, sir, the laws and liberties o' this great kintra depend not for existence or vitality on ony sic ingine-although I grant, that when, by the chances o' time and tide, they collapse, that ingine blaws up and inflates their lungs, and sets them ance mair breathin or hoastin. Sic an ingine, I opine, is the St James's Chronicle, which gangs through the Forest thrice a-week, like a fine bauld purifyin wund, and has, to my knowledge, changed the sour sallow cheek o' mair than ae radical -for we hae the breed on the Braes o' Yarrow-into the open rosy countenance o' a kirk-and-constitution man, cheerfully payin his teinds to the minister's steepen, and hatin the Pope's Ee, except when he sees't glowerin at him frae a shank o'

mutton.

North. The well-being of a State is wholly dependent on the character of a people, James; and I agree with you in

thinking that the character of a people is not entirely formed by newspapers.

Tickler. Some sixty years since, few persons in Scotland, out of Edinburgh, ever saw a newspaper but the Caledonian Mercury-a good paper yet; but were not the Scottish people then, as now, a "nation of gentlemen"?

Shepherd. A daft-lookin nation would that be, Mr Tickler; but, thank God, there never was ower mony gentlemen in Scotland, and them there was had nae connection in ony way wi' the newspaper-press. For my ain pairt, I never peruse what's ca'd the leadin article in a newspaper-and, to speak the truth, I'm geyan shy o' them in a magazine too—but I devoor the adverteesements, which, beside lettin you ken everything that's gaun on in a kintra respectin the sellin and nifferin o' property, baith in hooses and lands, are to my mind models o' composition, without ae single unnecessary word, for every word's paid for, and that gies the adverteeser a habit o' conceese thocht and expression, better than a Logic class.

Tickler. Writing in Magazines, and speaking in Parliament, have quite an opposite effect-making the world wordy.

Shepherd. An' preachin's warst of a'. A popular preacher has a' his ain way in the poupit, like a bill in a cheena-shop. He's like a river in spate-drumly-drumly, and you can hear naethin else for his deafenin roar. Meet wi' him, neist day, in

a preevat pairty, and you wudna ken him to be the same man. He's like the river run out-dry and staney, and you wunner hoo you could hae been sae frightened at him rampagin

North. A sermon should never exceed twenty-five minutes

-nor

Tickler. A horse-race two miles. Four-mile heats are tiresome-to horse, rider, and spectator.

Shepherd. Great poupit orators are aften geyan stupit in conversation. The pleasantest orators o' my acquaintance, the maist sensible and instructin in society, are them that just preaches weel aneuch to satisfy folk in the kirk, without occasionin ony great gossip about their discourse in the kirkyard. There's a harmony atween their doctrine and their daily life that tells in the long-run a' ower the parish; but it's nae easy maitter, indeed it's unpossible, for your hee-fleers to ack in preevat as they ack in public-in the parlour as in the poupit.

Tickler. The bawling bashaw, James, may become an abject mute-a tyrant on the Sabbath-through the week-days a slave.

Shepherd. Scoldin a' his heritors when preachin-lickin the dust aff their shoes when dinin in their houses

North. Whisht-James-whisht-you know my respect for the Scottish clergy; and among the high-flyers, as you call them, are some of our most splendid orators and useful ministers.

Shepherd. Whisht yoursel, Mr North. You've spoken twa words for my ane the day. But tell me, sir, did you gang to see Mr Tay Pay Cooke, in "The Pilot"? Did ye ever see the like o' yon?

North. The best Sailor, out of all sight and hearing, that ever trod the stage.

Shepherd. Do ye ca' yon treddin the stage? Yon's no treddin. When he first loupit out o' the boat on the dry laun', tryin to steady himsel on his harpoon, he garred me fin' the verra furm aneath me in the pit shooin up and down, as if the earth were lowsen'd frae her moorins. I grew amaist sea-sick.

North. Nothing overdone-no bad bye-play, blabbing of the land-lubber-not too much pulling up of the trousersno ostentatious display of pig-tail-one chuck of tobacco into his cheek, without any perceptible chaw, sufficient to show that next to grog the quid is dear-no puling, no whining, when on some strong occasion he pumps his eye, but merely a slight choking of that full, deep, rich mellow voice, symphonious, James, in all its keys with the ocean's, whether piping in the shrouds, or blowing great guns, running up, James, by way of pastime, the whole gamut-and then, so much heart and soul, James, in minute particulars, justifying the most passionate exhibition when comes crisis or catastrophe

Shepherd. What for do you no mention the hornpipe? I wad gie fifty pounds to be able to dance yon way. Faith, I wad astonish them at kirns. Haw! haw! haw! The way he twists the knees o' him-and rins on his heels-and doun to the floor wi' a wide spread-eagle amaist to his verra doup -up again like mad, and awa aff intil some ither nawtical muvement o' the hornpipe, bafflin a' comprehension as to its meanin; and then a' the while siccan a face! I wush I kent him-he maun be a fine fallow.

888

38

THEATRICAL CRITICISM.-THE PULPIT.

North. A gentleman, James.

Shepherd. That's aneuch-I never can help carryin ontil the stage my knowledge o' an actor's preevat character-and I couldna thole to see a drunken, dishonest neerdoweel actin sic a pairt as Lang Tam in "The Pilot."

North. I believe such a thing would be impossible. Mr Cooke served in the navy in his boyhood, and fought in the glorious battle off Cape St Vincent. But all his experience of a sea-life, and all his genius, would have been vain, had he not possessed within his own heart the virtues of the British tar. That gives a truth, a glow of colouring to his picture of Long Tom-just, my dear James, as if you were to act the principal part in that little Piece of mine, the Ettrick Shepherd.

Tickler. What impostor, dearest James, could personate a certain Pastor in the Noctes Ambrosianæ

Shepherd. Is Mr Gurney gotten intil the press again?

North. James, I wish you would write the Monthly Dramatic Review for Maga?

Shepherd. Hoo can I do that, leevin in the Forest?

North. Poo-I will send you out the Journal, and the Mercury, and the Observer, and the Chronicle, who have all "a strong propensity for the drama," and you can give us the cream of Acris, and Vindex, and Fair Play, and a Friend of Rising Merit, and Philo, and Vox Populi, and a Pittite, and A. and Y., and P. Q.

Shepherd. I wad rather undertak to sen' you in creeteeks on a' the sermons preach'd every Sawbath in a' the kirks in Embro'-provided you just send me out the texts, and twathree o' the heads, wi' the ministers' names labell'd.

North. Something of that sort, James, was attempted in London, in a periodical called The Pulpit. Yet, would you believe it, not one of the contributors ever went to church. They had each his old woman in her pew, with whom they took a glass of gin-and-water for an hour of the Sunday evening, before going to the Pig and Whistle, and thus got the materials for a general weekly Review of the Pulpit Eloquence of the Metropolis.

Shepherd. Safe us! what a shame! There's nae settin boun's to the wickedness o' the gentlemen o' the press. To creeticeese a minister in the poupit-and describe his face and

THE WICKEDNESS OF THE WORLD.

39

his vice, and the action o' his hauns, and his way o' managin the whites o' his een, without ever ha'in been in his kirk! It's fearsome.

North. The wickedness of the whole world, James, is fearsome. Many a sleepless night I pass thinking of it, and endeavouring to digest plans for the amelioration of my species.

Shepherd. A' in vain, a' in vain! The bit wean at its mother's breast, lang afore it can speak, girns like an imp o' sin; and the auld man, sittin palsied and pillow-prapped in his arm-chair at the neuk o' the fire, grows black i' the face wi' rage, gin his parritch is no richt biled, or the potawties ower hard; and prefaces his mummled prayer wi' a mair mummled curse.

Tickler. Your language, James, has been particularly strong all this evening. The sea is bracing.

Shepherd. Honour and honesty! Wha ever saw them staun a real trial? The Platonic Philosopher seduces the sister o' the brither o' his soul-the "noblest work o' God" receives a' the poor people's money in the parish, and becomes a bankrupt.

North. It is only among women, my dear James, that anything is to be found deserving the name of virtue or religion.

Shepherd. The lassie o' saxteen 'ill rin awa wi' a tinkler, and break her father's heart. He dees, and his poor disconsolate widow, wha has worn a deep black veil for a towmont, that she mayna see or be seen by the sun, marries an Eerish sodger, and neist time you see her, she has naething on her head but a dirty mutch, and she's gaun up and doun the street half-fou, wi' an open bosom, sucklin twuns!

Tickler. Ephesian matron!

Shepherd. Gie an advocate bizziness whan he's starvin, at the tap o' a common stair, wull he help you to fit out your son for India when he has become a Judge, inhabiting a palace in Moray Place? Gie a preacher a kirk, and in three months he insults his pawtron. Buy up a naitural son, stap by stap, in the airmy, till he's a briggadeer, and he'll disoun his ain father, and pretend that he belangs to a distant branch o' the stem o' some noble family-although, aiblins, he never had on stockins till he was ensign, and up to the date o' his first

"An honest man's the noblest work of God."