TUNE-"Erin Go Bragh."

There stood on the shore of far distant Van Diemen
An ill-fated victim of handcuffs and chains,
And sadly he thought on the country of freemen,

Where the housebreaker thrives, and the pickpocket reigns;
For the clog at his foot met his eye's observation,
Recalling the scenes of his late avocation,

Where once, ere the time of his sad transportation,
He sang bold defiance to hard-hearted law !
Oh! hard is my fate, said the much-injured felon ;
How I envy the life of the gay Kangaroo !
I envy the pouch that her little ones dwell in,

I envy those haunts where no bloodhounds pursue !
Oh! never again shall I nightly or daily
Cut throats so genteelly, pick pockets so gaily,
And cheerfully laugh at the ruthless Old Bailey,
And sing bold defiance to hard-hearted law!
Oh! much-loved St Giles, even here in my sorrow,
How often I dream of thy alleys and lanes !
But sadness, alas! must return with the morrow,
A morning of toil, or of fetters and chains!
Oh! pitiless fate, wilt thou never restore me

To the scenes of my youth, and the friends that deplore me,
Those glorious scenes, where my fathers before me
Sang fearless defiance to hard-hearted law!

Where are my picklocks, my much-loved possession?
Minions of Bow Street, you doubtless could tell!
Where are the friends of my darling profession?

Thurtell and Probert, I hear your death-knell !
Oh! little we thought, when in harmony blended,
Of hearts thus dissever'd and friendships suspended—
That the brave and the noble should ever have ended
In being the victims of hard-hearted law !

Yet even in my grief I would still give a trifle,
Could I only obtain but a glass of The Blue,
With the soul-soothing draught all my sorrows I'd stifle,
Brethren in England, I'd drink it to you!

Firm be each hand, and each bosom undaunted,-
Distant the day when you're told you are "wanted,"-
Joyous the song which by Flashman is chanted—
The song of defiance to hard-hearted law !

SHEPHERD IN TREPIDATION.

109

Shepherd. I have heard waur things than that; it's very amusing,―nay it's capital-and its turn may come roun' in the Magazine in a year or twa. Have you

Tickler. Allow me to express my gratitude.

seen, Mr Editor, Chambers's Traditions of Edinburgh ?—a most amusing series of numbers, full of the best kind of antiquarianism. It has had a great sale, and it well deserves it. Chambers is a modest and ingenious man.'

Shepherd. That he is: I hae kent him for many years. is it not all about auld houses?

But

Tickler. Not at all. There is much droll information about life and manners, and characters now gone by to return no more. I understand that Sir Walter Scott and Charles Sharpe have both communicated anecdotes of the olden time, and that would stamp value upon a book of far inferior excellence. May I review it for an early number? Shepherd. Ou ay. But what noise is that? Do you hear ony noise in the lobby, Mr Tickler? Dot, Dot, Dot! Dinna you hear't? It's awfu'! This way. O Lord! it's Mr North, it's Mr North, and I am a dead man. I am gaun to be deteckit in personating the Yeditor. I'll be hanged for forgery. Wae's me-Wae's me! Could I get into that press? or into ane o' the garde-du-vins o' the sideboard? Or maun I loup at ance ower the window, and be dash'd to a thousand pieces?

Tickler. Compose yourself, James; compose yourself. But what bam is this you have been playing off upon me? I thought North had resigned, and that you were, bonâ fide, editor? And I too! Am not I your Sub? What is this, Mount Benger? 3

Shepherd. A sudden thocht strikes me. I'll put on the wig, and be the offisher frae the Castle. Paint my ee-brees wi' burned cork-fast, man, fast, the gouty auld deevil's at the door.

1 Since this was written, Mr Robert Chambers, by his writings and publications, has contributed greatly to the dissemination of a cheap and edifying literature.

2 Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe was a clever caricaturist, and replete with small gossip. He edited Kirkton's Secret and True History of the Church of Scotland from the Restoration to the Year 1678, and published in 1817 a small volume entitled Metrical Legends and other Poems, &c. For a sketch of him, see LOCKHART'S Life of Scott, vol. viii. p. 110, 2d edition.

3 Hogg's territorial title from the name of his farm.

110

SHEPHERD AS MAJOR MOGGRIDGE.

Tickler. That will do. On with your cloak. It It may be said of you, as of the Palmer in Marmion,

Ah me! the mother that you bare,
If she had been in presence there,
In cork'd eyebrows and wig so fair,
She had not known her child.

North. Mr Tickler!

(Enter NORTH.)

Beg pardon, sir,-a stranger. Tickler. Allow me to introduce to you Major Moggridge, of the Prince's Own.

North. How do you do, Major-I am happy to see you. I have the honour of ranking some of my best friends among the military-and who has not heard of the character of your regiment?

The Major (very short-sighted). Na-how do you do, Mr North? 'Pon honour, fresh as a two-year-old. Is it, indeed, the redoubtable Kit that I see before me? You must become a member of the United Service Club. We can't do without you. You served, I think, in the American War. Did you know Fayette or Washington, or Lee, or Arnold? What sort of a looking fellow was Washington?

North. Why, Major-Washington was much such a goodlooking fellow as yourself-making allowance for difference in dress-for he was a plain man in his apparel. But he had the same heroic expression of countenance-the same com manding eye and bold broad forehead.

The Major. He didna mak as muckle use, surely, o' the Scottish deealec as me?

North. What is the meaning of this? I have heard that voice before, where am I? Excuse me, sir, but-but-why, Tickler, has Hogg a cousin, or a nephew, or a son in the Hussars? Major Moggridge, you have a strong resemblance to one of our most celebrated men, the Ettrick Shepherd. Are you in any way connected with the Hoggs?

Shepherd (throwing off his disguise). O ye Gawpus! Ye great Gawpus! It's me, man-it's me! Tuts, man— -dinna lose your temper-dinna you think I would mak a capital playactor?

SHEPHERD UNMASKED.

111

North. Why, James, men at my time of life are averse to such waggeries.

Shepherd. Averse to waggeries! You averse to waggeries? Then let us a' begin saying our prayers, for the end o' the world is at hand. Now, that's just the way baith wi' you and Mr Tickler. As lang as you get a' your ain way, and think you hae the laugh against the Shepherd, a's richt—and you keckle, and you craw, and you fling the straw frae ahint the heels o' you, just like game-cocks when about to gie battle. Vow, but you're crouse:1 but sae sune as I turn the tables on you, gegg you, as they would say in Glasgow-turn you into twa asses, and make you wonder if your lugs are touching the ceiling—but immediately you begin whimpering about your age and infirmities-immediately you baith draw up your mouths as if you had been eatin sourocks, let down your jaws like so many undertakers, and propose being philosophical! Isna that the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? North. I fear, James, you're not perfectly sober.

2

Shepherd. If I am fou, sir, it's nae been at your expense. But, howsomever, here I am ready to dispute wi' you on ony subject, sacred or profane. I'll cowp you baith, ane after the ither. What sall it be? History, Philosophy, Theology, Poetry, Political Economy, Oratory, Criticism, Jurisprudence, Agriculture, Commerce, Manufactures, Establishments in Church and State, Cookery, Chemistry, Mathematics-OR MY MAGAZINE?

North. Your Magazine?

Shepherd (bursting into a guffaw). O Mr North! O Mr North! what a fule I hae made o' Tickler. I made him believe that I was the Yeditor o' Blackwood's Magazine! The coof credited it; and gin you only heard hoo he abused you! He ca'd you the Archbishop of Toledo."

Tickler. You lie, Hogg!

Shepherd. There's manners for you, Mr North. Puir, passionate cretur, I pity him, when I think o' the apology he maun mak to me in a' the newspapers.

North. No, no, my good Shepherd-be pacified, if he goes down here on his knees.

1 Crouse-brisk and confident.

2 Cowp-overthrow.

3 Is this not a mistake for the "Archbishop of Granada," in Gil Blas?

Shepherd. Stop a wee while, till I consider. Na, na; he maunna gang doun on his knees-I couldna thole to see that. Then, I was wrang in saying he abused you. So let us baith say we were wrang, preceesely at the same moment. signal, Mr North.

North. Let us embrace. (Tria juneta in uno.)

Gie the

Shepherd. Hurra! hurra! hurra!-Noo for the Powldowdies.'

1 Powldowdies-oysters.