will be on the table forthwith-unless, Mr Hogg, you would prefer a goose which last week won a sweepstakes

Shepherd. What? at Perth races? Was he a bluid-guse, belangin to a member o' the Caledonian Hunt?

Ambrose (smiling). No, Mr Hogg - There was a competition between six parishes which should produce the greatest goose, and I had the good fortune to purchase the successful candidate, who was laid, hatched, and brought up at the Manse of

Shepherd. I ken the successful candidate brawly-Wasna he a white ane, wi' a tremendous doup that soopt the grun', and hadna he contracted a habit o' turnin in the taes o' his left fit?

Ambrose. The same, sir. He weighed, ready for spit, twenty pounds jump-feathers and giblets four pounds more. Nor do I doubt, Mr North, that had your Miss Nevison had him for a fortnight longer at the Lodge, she would have fattened him (for he is a gander) up to thirty,—that is to say, with all his paraphernalia.

Shepherd. Show him in; raw or roasted, show him in. (Enter KING PEPIN and SIR DAVID GAM, with the successful candidate, supported by MON. CADET and TAPPYTOORIE.) What a strapper! Puir chiel, I wadna hae kent him, sae changed is he frae the time I last saw him at the Manse, takin a walk in the cool o' the Saturday e'ening, wi' his wife and family, and ever and anon gabblin to himsel in a sort o' undertone, no unlike a minister rehearsin his sermon for the coming Sabbath.

North. How comes he to be ready roasted, Ambrose ?

Ambrose. A party of twenty are about to sup in the Saloon, and

Shepherd. Set him doun; and if the gentlemen wuss to see North cut up a guse, show the score into the Snuggery. [The successful candidate is safely got on the board. Hear hoo the table groans!

North. I feel my limbs rather stiffish with sitting so long. Suppose, James, that we have a little leap-frog.

Shepherd. Wi' a' my heart. Let me arrange the forces roun' the table. Mr Awmrose, staun' you there-Mon. Cadet, fa' intil the rear o' your brither Pippin, twa yairds ahint

VOL. II.

X

Awmrose junior-Sir Dawvit, dress by his Majesty - and Tappytoorie, turn your back upon me. Noo, lout doun a'

your heads. Here goes-Keep the pie warm.

[The SHEPHERD vaults away, and the whole circle is in perpetual motion; NORTH distinguished by his agility in the ring.

North (piping). Heads all up-no louting. There, James, I topped you without touching a hair.

Shepherd. Mirawculus auld man! A lameter too! I never felt his hauns on my shouther!

Ambrose. I'm rather short of breath, and must drop out of the line.

[MR AMBROSE drops out of the line, and his place is supplied by TICKLER, who at that moment has entered the room unobserved.

Shepherd (coming unexpectedly upon Tickler). Here's a steeple! What glamoury's this?

North. Stand aloof, James, and I'll clear the weathercock on the spire.

[NORTH, using his crutch as a leaping-pole, clears TICKLER in grand style; but TAPPYTOORIE, the next in the series, boggles, and remains balanced on SOUTHSIDE's shoulders. Tickler. Firm on your pins, North. I'm coming.

[TICKLER, with TAPPYTOORIE on his shoulders, clears CHRIS

TOPHER in a canter.

Omnes. Huzza! huzza! huzza!

North (addressing TICKLER). Mr Tickler, it gives me great pleasure to present to you the Silver Frog, which I am sure will never be disgraced by your leaping.

[TICKLER stoops his head, and NORTH hangs the Prize

Silver Frog, by a silver chain, round his neck: TAPPY TOORIE dismounts, and the Three sit down to supper. Shepherd. Some sax or seven slices o' the breist, sir, and dinna spare the stuffin.—Mr Awmrose, gie my trencher a gude clash o' aipple-sass.-Potawtoes. Thank ye.-Noo, some o' the smashed.-Tappy, the porter.-What guse !!!

Tickler. Cut the apron off the bishop, North; but you must have a longer spoon to get into the interior.

Ambrose. Here is a punch-ladle, sir.

Shepherd. Gie him the great big silver soup ane. -Sic sage!

A PAUSE IN THE CONVERSATION.

323

Tickler. Why, that is liker the leg of a sheep than of a goose.

Shepherd. Awmrose, ma man, dinna forget the morn1 to let us hae the giblets.-Pippin, the mustard.-Mr North, as naebody seems to be axin for't, gie me the bishop's apron, it seems sappy. What are ye gaun to eat yoursel, sir? Dinna mind helpin me, but attend to your nain sooper.

North. James, does not the side of the breast which I have now been hewing, remind you of Salisbury Crags?

Shepherd. It's verra precipitous. The skeleton maun be sent to the College Museum, to staun' at the fit o' the elephant, the rhinoceros, and the cammyleopardawlis; and that it mayna be spiled by unskilful workmanship, I vote we finish him cauld the morn afore we yoke to the giblet-pie. [Carried nem. con.

Tickler. Goose always gives me a pain in my stomach. But to purchase pleasure at a certain degree of pain, is true philosophy. Besides, in pleasure, I belong to the sect Epicurean; and in pain, am a budge docter of the Stoic Fur; therefore I shall eat on. So, my dear North, another plateful. James, a caulker?

Shepherd. What's your wull?

Tickler. Oh! nothing at all.-Ambrose, the Glenlivet to Mr North. Mr Hogg, I believe, never takes it during

supper.

[The SHEPHERD tips AMBROSE the wink, and the gurgle goes round the table.

[Silence, with slight interruptions, and no conversation for about three quarters of an hour. NATHAN GURNEY. Shepherd. I had nae previous idea that steaks eat sae capital after guse. Some sawmon.

North. Stop, James. Let all be removed, except the fishto wit, the salmon, the rizzards, the speldrins, the herrings, and the oysters.

Shepherd. And bring some mair fresh anes. Mr Awmrose, you maun mak a deal o' siller by sellin your eister-shells for manur to the farmers a' roun' about Embro'? They're as gude's lime—indeed, I'm thinkin they are lime-a sort o' sealime, growing on rocks by the shore, and a coatin at the

The morn-to-morrow.

324

NORTH A DAMASCUS SWORD.

same time to leevin and edible creturs. Oh, the wonnerfu' warks o' Nature!

North. Then wheeling the circular to the fire, let us have a parting jug or two

Shepherd. Each ?

(Enter MR AMBROSE with LORD ELDON.) North. Na! here's his Lordship full to the brim. He holds exactly one gallon, Imperial Measure; and that quantity, according to Mrs Ambrose's recipe, cannot hurt us

Shepherd. God bless the face o' him!

Tickler. Pray, James, is it a true bill that you have had the hydrophobia?

Shepherd. Ower true; but I'll gie you a description o't at our next. Meanwhile, let's ca' in that puir cretur Gurney, and gie him a drap drink. Nawthan! Nawthan! Nawthan! Gurney (in a shrill voice from the interior of the Ear of Dionysius). Here-here-here.

Shepherd. What'n a vice! Like a young ratton'squaakin ahint the lath and plaister.

North. No rattons here, James. Mr Gurney is true as steel.

Shepherd. Reserve that short similie for yoursel, sir? O sir, but you're elastic as a drawn Damascus swurd. Lean a' your wecht on't, wi' the pint on the grun, but fear na, while it bends, that it will break; for back again frae the semicircle springs it in a second intil the straught line; and woe be to him wha daurs that cut and thrust! for it gangs through his body like licht through a wundow, and before the sinner kens he is wounded, you turn him ower on his back, sir, stanedead!

[MR GURNEY joins the party, and the curtain of course falls.

1 Ratton-rat.

XXIII.

(APRIL 1830.)

Scene, The Saloon, illuminated by the grand Gas Orrery. Time,-First of April-Six o'clock. Present,-NORTH, the ENGLISH OPIUM-EATER,1 the SHEPHERD, TICKLER, in Court Dresses. The three celebrated young Scottish LEANDERS, with their horns, in the hanging gallery. AIR, “Brose and Brochan and a'."

Shepherd. An' that's an Orrery! The infinitude o' the starry heavens reduced sae as to suit the ceilin o' the Saloon! Whare's Virgo?

1 Thomas De Quincey has been already referred to more than once in the course of these dialogues. Now he is introduced as an interlocutor; and, if I may be permitted to say so, the general character of his conversation has been imitated not infelicitously by his friend the Professor. But the reader who would learn what Mr De Quincey himself is in propriâ personâ—what fascinating powers of eloquence he possesses-how deep his poetical sensibilities are— and how profound his philosophical acumen-must be referred to his collected works now (1855) in the course of publication, (Hogg, Edinburgh; Groombridge, London).