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ΧΡΗ ΔΕΝ ΣΥΜΠΟΣΙΩ ΚΥΛΙΚΩΝ ΠΕΡΙΝΙΣΣΟΜΕΝΑΩΝ
ΗΔΕΑ ΚΩΤΙΛΛΟΝΤΑ ΚΑΘΗΜΕΝΟΝ ΟΙΝΟΠΟΤΑΖΕΙΝ. .

Σ.
PHOC. ap. Ath.

GIA

A

[This is a distich by wise old Phocylides,
An ancient who wrote crabbed Greek in no silly days ;
Meaning,'Tis right FOR GOOD WINEBIBBING PEOPLE,
Not To LET THE JUG PACE ROUND THE BOARD LIKE A CRIPPLE;
BUT GAILY TO CHAT WHILE DISCUSSING THEIR TIPPLE."
An excellent rule of the hearty old cock 'tis-
And a very fit motto to put to our Noctes.]

C. N. ap. Ambr.

SCENE-The Snuggery.-Time, seven o'clock. -Members present

North, SHEPHERD, O'BRONTE.

SHEPHERD.

NORTH.

The wee bit cozzie octagon Snuggery metamorphosed, I declare, intil a perfeck paragon o' a leebrary, wi' glitterin' brass-wired rosewood shelves, through whilk the bricht-bunn' byeuckies glint splendid as sunbeams, yet saftened and subdued somehow or ither, doun to a specie o moonlicht, sic as lonely shepherd on the hill lifts up his hauns to admire alang the fringed edges o' 'a fleecy mass o'clouds, when the orb is just upon the verra comin' out again intil the blue, and the entire nicht beautifies itsell up, like a leevin' being, to rehail the stainless apparition ! Homeric !

SHEPHERD. Ay, Homer was a shepherd like mysell, l’se warrant him, afore he lost his e'eu, in lieu o' whilk, Apollo, the Great Shepherd o' a'the Flocks o' the Sky, gied him-and wasn't a glorious recompense, sir ?--for a' the rest o’ his days, the gift o’immortal sang.

'Tis fitted up, James, after a fancy-plan of our poor, dear, old, facete, feeling, ingenious, and most original friend-Johnny Ballantyne.

SHEPHERD.
Johnny Ballantyne !
VOL. XXIX. NO, CLXXV.

NORTH.

A

NORTH.

Methinks I see him-his slight slender figure restless with a spirit that knew no rest—his face so suddenly changeful in its expression from what a stranger might have thought habitual gravity, into what his friends knew to be native there-glee irrepressible and irresistible--the very madness of mirth, James, in which the fine ether of animal spirits seemed to respire the breath of genius, and to shed through the room, or the open air, a con. tagion of cheerfulness, against which no heart was proof, however sullen, and no features could stand, however grim-but still all the company, Canters and Covenanters inclusive, relaxed

and thawed into murmurs of merriment, even as the strong spring sunshine sends a-singing the bleak frozen moorstreams, till all the wilderness is alive with music.

SHEPHERD.

NORTH

SHEPHERD.

He was indeed a canty cretur-a delichtfu' companion.

I hear his voice this moment within my imagination, as distinct as if it were speaking. 'Twas exceedingly pleasant.

It was that. Verra like Sandy's-only a hue merrier, and a few beats in the minute faster. Oh, sir ! hoo he wou'd hae enjoyed the Noctes, and hoo the Noctes wou'd hae enjoyed him !

In the midst of our merriment, James, often has that thought come over me like a cloud.

NORTH.

SHEPHERD.

What'n a lauch!

NORTH.

Soul-and-heart-felt!

SHEPHERD

Mony a strange story fell down stane-dead when his tongue grew mute. Thoosands o' curious, na, unaccountable anecdotes, ceased to be, the day his een were closed; for he telt them, sir, as ye ken, wi' his een mair than his lips; and his verra hawns spak, when he snapped his forefinger and his thoomb, or wi' the hail five spread out-and he had what I ca’ an elegant hawn' o' fine fingers, as maist wutty men hae-manually illustrated his soobjeck, till the words gaed aff, murmuring like bees frae the tips, and then Johnny was quate again for a minute or sae, till some ither freak o' a fancy came athwart his genie, and instantly loupt intil look, lauch, or speech -or rather a' the three thegither in ane, while Sir Walter himsell keckled on his chair, and leanin' wi' thae extraordinar' chowks o' his, that aften seem to me amaist as expressive as his pile o' forehead, hoo wou'd he fix the grey illumination o' his een on his freen Johnny, and ca’ him by that familiar name, and by the sympathy o' that maist capawcious o' a' sowles, set him clean mad-richt doon wudd a'thegither-till really, sir, he got untholeably divertin', and folk compleen'd o pains in their sides, and sat wi' the tears rinnin' doon their cheeks, praying him for gudeness to haud his tongue, for that gin he didna, somebody or ither wou'd be fa'in doun in a fit, and be carried out dead.

NORTH.

A truce, my dear James, to all such dreams. Yet pleasant, though mournful to the soul, is the memory of joys that are past! And never, methinks, do we feel the truth of that beautiful sentiment more tenderly, than when dimly passeth before our eyes, along the mirror of imagination,-for I agree with thee, thou sagest of Shepherds, that when the heart is finely touched by some emotion from the past, the mirror of imagination and of memory is one and the same, held up as if in moonlight by the hands of Love or Friendship,-never feel we the truth of that beautiful sentiment more tenderly, I repeat, James, than when we suddenly re-behold there the image—the shadow of some face that when alive wore a smile of perpetual sunshine—somewhat saddened now, though cheerful still, in the momentary vision-and then, as we continue to gaze upon it, undergoing sad obscuration, and soon disappearing in total eclipse.

SHEPHERD,

Enter Mr AMBROSE, Mons. CADET, King Pepin, Sir David Gan, TAPPI

TOURIE, and the Pech, with Tea, Coffee, Toast, Muffins, 8c. When a body has had an early dinner, what a glorious meal's the FoureOORS! Hooly--hooly, lads. Aye-that's richt, Tappy-just set doon the muffins there close to ma nieve; oh! but they seem sappy! Sir Dawvit, be ye baronet or be ye knicht, you've a fine ee for the balancin' o' a table, or ye had never clashed doon on that spat thae creeshy crampets. Pippin, you're a dextrous cretur, wi' your ashets o’ wat and dry toast. And oh! my man Pechy! but you've a stoot back and a strong arm to deposit wi' sic an air o' majesty that twa-quartern loaf fresh frae the baker's, and steamin' as sweet's a bank oʻvi'lets after a shower.-Mr Awmrose, ye needna bile ony mair eggs-for though they're no verra big anes, yet whatever the size, sax is ma number—thae bit chickens maun hae belanged to a late cleckin'But whare's the Roond ?-Aye-aye-Prince o' Picardy! I see ye bearin' him frae the bit side-boardie.—Noo attend to Mr North, Mr Awmrose, and dinna mind me-tak tent o' Mr North, sir-and see that he wants for naething—for I discern by the glegness o' the een o' him, that he's yaup-yaup -yaup—and 's sharpenin' his teeth wi' the fork, till you hear them raspin' like a mower whettin' his scythe.

NORTH. Ambrose, bring yon.

AMBROSE. Here they are, sir.

(Placing them before Mr Hogg.

SHEPHERD.
Angels and ministers o' grace defend us—what the deevil's thae ?
What think ye, James ?

Hauns! Human hauns! Preserved human bauns! Pickled human hauns ! The preserved and pickled human hauns o' a Christian !

Well-what although? Weel! what altho'? Are they a present frae Dr Knox, or his freen Hare? Aiblins the verra hauns o’ Burke himsell! What throttlers!

NORTH.

SHEPHERD.

NORTH.

SHEPHERD.

NORTH.

Why, they are throttlers, James—but they never belonged in life to any

of the gang.

SHEPHERD.

NORTH.

That's a great relief-But excuse me, sir, for haudin' my nose-for I fear they're stinkin',

Sweet, I assure you, James, as the downy fist o' a virgin, yet warm from her own bosom. Bear-paws from Scandinavia-a Christmas-present from my intrepid friend Lloyd, now Schall-king of the Frozen Forests. Let's pree them. (The SHEPHERD takes one Paw, and North another, and they both

begin to masticate. Exquisite!

SHEPHERD.

AMBO.

SHEPHERD.

Are ye at the taes, sir ?

NORTH

SHEPHERD.

I am. Mines is picket as clean's an ivory kaim for the tap-knot o' a bit bonnie Noo for the paw ms. lassie.

The mustard ?

NORTH.

SHEPHERD. Eh?

NORTII. The mustard ?

SHEPHERD. Eh? Oh! but the pawms is prime. The ile o' pawms! Far better nor the ignorant warld suspecks. Nae wunner the beasts sooks them in their wunter-caves.

NORTH. Try your paw with chicken, James.

I'm dooin' sae, sir. Frae this time, henceforit and for evermair, hoo wersh the race o hams! What's pig-face to bear-paw!

Hyperion to a Satyr.

Say Satyr to Hyperion, sir. Mine's anatameezed—and lo! the skeleton ! O the wonnerfu' warks o' natur!

NORTH. There !

SHEPHERD.

NORTAI.

SHEPHERD.

SHEPHERD.

What'n a what! I'm hungrier than if I had ate a hale solan guse. What'n a what !

NORTH.

Let us now set in to serious eating, James.

SHEPHERD.

Be't sae. Seelence!

[There is silence in the Snuggery from half-past seven till half-past

eight ; or, rather, a sound like the whutter of wild-fowl on the feed along a mud-bank, by night, in Poole Harbour, at low-water, as described by Colonel Hawker.

NORTH, James ?

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SHEPHERD.

Wi' a' my heart and sowle. Here's to Mr Lloyd's health and happiness —and when he's dune huggin' the bears, may he get a wife !

NORTII,

Amen!

SHEPHERD.

NORTH.

SHEPHERD.

NORTH.

Noo, sir, let's hae some leeterary conversation. I was just going to propose it, James. Suppose we have a little poetry. What a cauld squash o' poetry's this we've had blawn intil our faces o’ late, like sae mony blashy shoors o' sleet? But Stoddart has genius.

He has. Let us speak now of the great masters. Lean back, Jameshand over head-and pull out the volume it chances to light on-one or other of the works of the Immortals.

SHEPHERD (obeying the mandate.) Muir’s Life o' Byron-First vollum! Whan are we to hae the second ? I know not. Probably ere next Noctes.

I'm wearyin' unco sair for the second vollum. But our carrier, when he's gotten a heavy load o' the necessaries o' life, sic as vivers, and pots and pans, and ither bou sehold utensils,aye leaves ahint him at Selkirk a pair

NORTH.

SHEPHERD.

NORTH.

SHEPHERD.

shels that he jalouses may conteen byeuks, “Especially," quo' he, “thae great muckle clumsy square anes ye ca' quartos.'

Not so with Maga?

Na, na! A bale o' Blackwood's as light as a feather, and he swears that his beast never reests on the steyist brae gin Maga's aboard. The buoyancy o' the bale, sir, gars his cart dance alang a' the ups and downs i’ the road through the Forest, like a bit pleasure yott tilting outowre the waves at Windermere Regatta.

Poetry!

NORTH.

SHEPHERD.

I can tell ye a curious tale aboot this quarto. It lay for the best part o' a moon amang some cheeses, at Selkirk, afore it was discovered by some weans to be a byeuk, by means o' the broon paper and the direction, and was forwarded at last to Mount Benger in a return cart loaded wi' strae. But Gudefallow clean forgot that his lordship was there, and sae by some queer mischance he got bundled up intil the last, and mair nor a month afterwards, you may guess the surprise o' ane o' the hizzies that had gaen up for fodder, when a great big broon square paper pairshel bounced out o' her lap in the byrePoor Girzzy!

SHEPHERD. to the sair disappointment o’ Crummie, wha, after smellin' an' snokin' an' snortin' at it for a while, began cavin' her head like a dementit cretur, and then ettlin' to toss't out o' the door, gettin't entangled by the twine on the point o' ane o' her horns, she brak oot o' the byre, as if stung by a gadflee, or some divine astrum

NORTH.

NORTH,

Classical!

SHEPHERD.

and then doon the knowe, across the holm, owre the Yarrow, up the brae, and oot o'sicht ahint the hill, richt awa like a red-deer, clean out the region o' Yarrow a'thegither, and far awa ayont the head o' Ettrick into the verra heart o' Eskdalemuir, whar she was fun', days after, sair forfeuchan, ye may weel suppose, wi' the Beeography across her een, just as if she had been a bill gien to stickin', wi' a brodd on his griesly forehead. A' the shepherds, ye ken, sir, are gude scholars in our region-and him that first fand her was the President o' the Eskdalemuir Spootin', Theological, and Philosophical Club. Puttin' on his specs—for he's a gae auld cretur-he sune made oot the inscription in capitals on the forehead o' the beast—"JAMES Hogy, Esq., Mount Benger, YARROW, BY SELKIRK,” and then in Eetalics aneath—“ To be forwarded by the first opportunity.

NORTH.
That must have been a poser to the President.

It was that, sir. Nor was his perplexity diminished by the twa sma' words in ane o' the corners—“ Per mail.The mail hasna begun yet to rin that road, ye ken, sir, in the shape o' a cotch, and the President himsell confessed to me, on tellin' the tale, that amang the multitude o' oot-o'-the-way thochts that crooded intil his brain, to account for the faynomenon,-ane o' them was, that in this age o' inventions, when some newfangled notion or ither, oot o' some ingenious noddle, is pitten daily intil practice for expeditin' human intercoorse, the coo was an express

Hee-hee-hee! James, you tickle my fancy, and I get slightly convulsed about the midriff.

SHEPHERD.
Yes, sir--that the coo was an express sent by Mr Elliot o' Selkirk.

SIIEPHERD.

NORTH.

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