great enemy in the Edinburgh Review, and about two years ago cut up Canning. But give us some more of the squad. Shepherd. What think ye, sir, o' the lisp and the burr foregatherin in ane and the same mouth? You wonder gin he's an even-down idiot the man you're speaking wi'-the lisp's sae bairnly; but you soon begin to suspec a whillywha,' for the burr has a pawky' expression that's no canny; so finnin yourself no very comfortable between knave and fool, you tak the road, and aff to the Auld Town to denner.

North. James, the toothache, wi' his venomed stang, has been tormenting me all this evening. Excuse my saying but little; but I am quite in the mood for listening, and I never heard you much better.

Shepherd. I'm glad o't. Some folk when they speak remind me o' a callant learning to play upon the floot. Their tone is geyan musical, but wants vareeity, and though sweetish, is wersh, like the tone o' the floot. Then what puffin and spittin o' wind and water! Mercy on us! ye canna hear the tune for the splutter, unless you gang into anither room. What's that, sir, you're pittin into your mouth?

North. The depilatory of Spain, James, a sovereign remedy for the toothache.

Shepherd. Take a mouthfu' o' speerit, and keep whurlin't aboot in your mooth-dinna spit it out, but ower wi't—then anither, and anither, and anither—and nae mair toothache in your stumps than in a fresh stab3 in my garden-paling.

North. James, is my cheek swelled?

Shepherd. Let's tak the cawnel, and hae a right vizy. Swalled! The tae side o' your face, man, is like a haggis, and a' the colours o' the rainbow. We maun apply leeches. I daursay Mrs Awmrose has a dizzen in bottles in the house -but if no, I'll rin mysel to the laboratory.

North. The paroxysm is past-proceed.

Shepherd. Weel-then there's the pig-sty style o' conversation (though my name is Hogg, I'll no blink it)— grunt, bubble, and squeak. The pig-sty-style-o'-conversation talker begins like a soo, wi' his snoot nuzzlin in the dirty straw-you kenna weel what he's searchin after. By degrees he grows into a grunt, but no a verra muckle or lang ane a kind o' intermittent grunt, sic like as the soo itsel maks as it pits its snout outower the door-way o' its 1 Whilly-wha-shuffler. 2 Pawky cunning.

3 Stab-stake.

sty, when it sees the wind or a wanderer gaun past the premises. As the chiel waxes warm in argument, then he's like the soo in full grunt, rampaging round and round the sty, like a verra lion o' the forest. Face him, and he gangs sae mad wi' anger that the grunt in perfec wudness breaks asunder into squeaks and squeals, as if he were treading down the wee piggies aneath his cloots. The leeterary gentlemen sitting roun' the table in the middle chop2 rise in a fricht, and, laying down the newspapers, mak for the front door.-Is that contributor dead too, sir? Oh! say that he's dead too!

North. No, James, I cannot say so. and was in the shop this blessed day.

1

The monster is alive,

Shepherd. After a', sir, I dinna ken gin he's waur to thole than the great big mad Heelan bagpipe. You ken the Captain-and you've heard him speakin. Weel, then, just suppose a Heelan bagpipe gane mad, and broken out o' the mad-house, pursued by a dizzen keepers, every one wi' a strait waistcoat in his haun, and the Distracted Drone loupin intil No. 17 Princes Street, and never stoppin till he rowled awa through baith chops, richt into the Sanctum Sanctorum— a' the while yelling, and shrieking, and groaning a gathering o' a' the clans o' the Bulls o' Bashan.

North. Oh! James! James! Captain M'Turk is still alive. Apoplexy has no more power over his life than that fall he got last winter out of a fourth-flat window. Here he was in the shop this day with his broad purpled Gaelic face; and the moment he began to speak, although all the double doors between him and us were shut, we thought it was the competition of pipers. We could endure him in Glenmore-but oh! James! think of the Captain in an adjacent room only twenty feet by fifteen! Several large spiders plumped down in terror from the roof, with broken suspension-gear, on the Leading Article-and the mouse I have tamed, so that he will nibble a crumb out of our Troy-defending right hand, leapt off the green table in trepidation, as if scared by a visionary grimalkin. But are you as difficult to please, James, with faces as with voices? Shepherd. Ten times waur. a hunder that I can thole. 1 Cloots-hoofs.

There's no ae man's face amang It's no features, though they're 2 Chop-shop.

THE CONCEITED- -THE CUNNING.

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bad aneuch in general, but the expression that makes me skunner.1 There are four kinds o' expression mair especially odious-conçate, cunning, malice, and hypocrisy-and you would wonder how prevalent they are in a Christian country. First, Concate. The cretur's face smirks, and smiles, and salutes you, and seems doing justice to your genius. You are put aff your guard, and think him agreeable. But a' at ance the expression glowers on you, and you see it's conçate. The cauldrifed cretur has never read a word o' the Queen's Wake in his days, and is pawtroneezin the Shepherd. He nods when you speak, and cries Ha! ha! ha! as if you wanted the encouragement o' him, and the like o' him—and asks you, aiblins, to twa-three potawtoes and a poached egg smoored in speenage at sooper, to meet half-a-dozen auld women, a writer o' sharawds, and some misses wi' albums. That's the concated face.

North. Ex-editors of defunct magazines and journals— briefless advocates, with some small sinecure office-authors of pamphlets about canals, railroads, and gas-lights, and phrenologers.

Shepherd. Ay, and mony mair beside. Second, Cunning. You canna get a steady look o' his een, and only the whites o' them are visible. He's aye wink, winkin, and turning awa his face, and pu'ing his hat ower his broos. About five minutes after you hae answered a question, he refers to your answer, as if he had taen it doon in short haun, although at the time he never seemed to heed or hear't—and puts constructions upon wee bit senseless words, that served to eke out a sentence into grammar-and draws conclusions as to your political, and religious, and moral opinions, frae sic downright havers as a man generally speaks in a forenoon in the chop. As for his ain opinions-na, na—he'll no let them out; and after askin you a hundred ill-mannered questions, he pretends to be dull o' hearin when you speer the simplest ane at him, or else changes the discourse, or bamboozles you wi' a vocabulary o' mere words, or comes out wi' the biggest brazen-faced lee that ever crawled across a table. A' the while-oh, man! the face o' him looks cunnin, cunnin—and I could just spit in't, when I think sic treatment possible frae That's the cunnin face.

man to man.

1 Skunner-shudder with disgust.

122

THE MALICIOUS-THE HYPOCRITICAL,

North. Malice ?

Shepherd. The corners o' the mouth drawn doon, sae that the mouth is a curve or a crescent. When he lauchs, there's nae noise, and a kind o' toss o' his head. The brow just aboon his een's wrinkled-no furrowed, for only the nobler passions plough-but swarmin wi' beggarly wrinkles-a restless, sneerin, and red ee, a wee bludeshot, geyan piercin, but noo and than wi' a feared look, and never happy. The nose o' him raither hyuckit,' and aften a drap at the neb o't; for he's nae that weel, and subject to headaches. He shakes hauns wi' you as if you had the plague; and as for his ain haun, it's cauld and clammy as a bunch o' cawndle-dowps. The hail countenance is sickly and cadaverous; and if I'm no mistaen, his breath has a bad smell; for malice has aye a weak digestion, and the puir yellow deevil's aften sick, sick. North. Hypocrisy, James?

Shepherd. A smooth, smug, oily physiognomy, wi' lang, lank, black hair. The cheeks never muve, nae mair than gin they were brods; and there is a preceese sedateness about the mouth, that wadna be sae very ugly if you didna ken it was a' put on for some end, and contrairy to the laws o' nature. It maun be contrairy to the laws o' nature to haud fast the lips o' your mouth like them o' a vice in a smiddy: for the mouth is formed to be aye openin and shuttin again, and there's a thoosand opportunities for baith in the coorse o' a day-eatin, drinkin, talkin, lauchin, smilin, yawnin, gapin, starin wi' your mouth open at a strange-lookin chiel, or ony ither phenomenon, waitin for onybody gaun to speak, catchin flees, girnin, breathin, and sleepin, waukin, or hafflins and atween the twa, hearkening to a sermon; in short, I scarcely ken when your mouth sudna be either wide or a wee open, savin and exceptin when you gang into the dookin and try the divin.

North. Hark, hark, James-you have overrun the scentthe hypocrite has stole away. Tally-ho, tally-ho-yonder he goes, all in black, round the corner o' the kirk.

Shepherd. His een are aften a licht grey, like that o' a twa-days-pooked grozet-and afraid they may be seen through. Look at him; lo, he half closes them, as if he were aye praying, or gaun to pray, and then lifts them up, wi' a 1 Hyuckit-hooked. 2 Grozet-gooseberry.

AND SENSUAL COMBINED.

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slaw shake or whawmel o' the head-lifts them up audaciously to Heaven.

North. Excuse exterior, James-he is probably a pureminded, pure-living man.

ye

Shepherd. He pure leevin-the clarty cretur! Just soomin in the sensuality o' ane and a' o' the appeteets! O man! gin but saw him eatin! The fat o' hens comes oozing through his cheeks-and the cheek-banes, or the jaw-banes, I never could mak out which, make a regular joint-like clunk every mouthfu' he devoors. He helps himself at ither folk's tables, wi' a lang airm, to the sappiest dishes-and never ca's on the lass for bread. He's nae bread-eater, nor potawtoes either— naithin but flesh will satisfy the carnal chiel within himand afore he's half done denner, what wi' cleanin his hauns. on't, and what wi' dichtin1 his creeshy gab, the towel athort his thees is a' crumpled up like a night-cap frae an auld gentleman's pow that wears pouther and pomatum.

North. James, James remember where you are

coarseness.

-

-no

Shepherd. Then to see him sittin a' the time beside the verra bonniest bit lassie in a' the pairty! leanin his great, broad, yellow, sweaty cheeks, within an inch of her innocent carnations! Sweet simple girl—she thinks him the holiest o' men, and is blind and deaf to his brutalities. O save the lintwhite frae the houlat's nest! But the puir bonny boardinschool lassie has siller - a hantle o' siller. thousands o' poun's, aiblins five or sax-and in twa-three years ye see her walkin by her lane, wi' a girlish face, but white and sorrowful, leadin a toddlin bairn in her hand, and anither visible aneath her breast, nae husband near her, to gie her his arm in that condition-nae decent servant lass to help her wi' the wean-but quite her lane, no very weel dressed, and careless, careless, speakin to nane she meets, and saunterin wi' a sair heart down the unfrequented lanes, and awa into a field to sit down on the ditch-side weepin, while her wee boy is chasing the butterflies among the flowers.

North. Look at Tickler and Mullion yonder-playing at backgammon !

Shepherd. Safe us-sae they are! Weel, do ye ken, I never ance heard the rattlin o' the dice the haill time we were 1 Dichtin-wiping.