144

THE SHEPHERD'S LANDSCAPES.

James! Portraits are in general very unpardonable. Mr Colvin Smith forces upon you strong and striking likenesses, and I augur well of the young man when he shall have learned to draw and colour; but why represent all his gentlemen as half-seas over, and all his ladies as little better than they should be?1

North. Vile taste and feeling indeed! His pictures are clever and coarse; and woe betide the wight who passes through his hands, for he instantly loses all appearance of a gentleman.

Shepherd. Weel, I just think his pictures capital. It's a' nonsense you're talkin about leddies and gentlemen. Painters are ower fond o' flattery; and if his portraits are vulgar, as you ca't, how can Mr Smith help that, gin he wishes to be true to his original?

North. Simpson, in landscape, is delightful this year. He has an exquisite sense of the beautiful in scenery—and is a master of the principles of his art.

Tickler. Come, come, let us have no drivelling about pictures. There's the Shepherd himself, a much better painter than the best of the whole set.

North. Did you never use pencil or brush, James? I do not remember anything of yours, " by an Amateur," in any of our Exhibitions.

Shepherd. I've skarted some odds and ends wi' the keelivine on brown paper-and Mr Scroope3 telt Sir Walter they showed a gran' natural genius. I fin' maist diffeeculty in the foreshortnin and perspective. Things wunna retire and come forrit as I wush-and the back-grun' will be the fore-grun' whether I will or no. Sometimes, however, I dash the distance aff wi' a lucky stroke, and then I can get in the sheep or cattle in front; and the sketch, when you dinna stan' ower near, has a' the effect o' nature.

North. Do you work after Salvator Rosa, or Claude Lorraine, James?

Shepherd. I'm just as original in paintin as in poetry, and

1 Mr Colvin Smith, then commencing his professional career, has since attained to very high eminence as a portrait-painter.

Skarted-scratched.

3 This accomplished gentleman and keen sportsman was the author of a finely illustrated work on deer-stalking.

THE SHEPHERD'S LANDSCAPES.

145

follow nae master! I'm partial to close scenes a bit neuk, wi' a big mossy stane, aiblins a birk tree, a burnie maist dried up, a' but ae deep pool, into which slides a thread o' water doun a rock-a shepherd readin,-nae ither leevin thingfor the flock are ayont the knowes-and up amang the green hills;-ay, anither leevin thing, and just ane, his collie, rowed up half-asleep, wi' a pair o' lugs that still seem listenin, and his closin een towards his maister. That's a simple matter, sir, but, properly disposed, it makes a bonny pictur.

North. I should have thought it easier to "dash off” a wide open country with the keelivine.

1

Shepherd. So it is. I've dune a moor-gin you saw't you would doubt the earth being roun', there's sic an extent o' flat—and then, though there's nae mountain-taps, you feel you're on tableland. I contrive that by means o' the cluds. You never beheld stronger bent-some o' the stalks thick as your armand places wi' naething but stanes. Here and there earthchasms, cut by the far-off folk for their peats-and on the foreground something like water, black and sullen, as if it quaked. Nae birds, but some whaups -ane fleein, and ane walkin by itsel, and ane just showin its lang neck amang some rushes. You think, at first, it may be the head o' a serpent-but there's nane amang our mosses, only asks, which is a sort o' lizards, or wee alligators, green, and glidin awa without noise or rustle intil the heather. Time-evening, or rather late on in the afternoon, when Nature shows a solemn—maist an awfu' stillness-and solitude, as I hae aften thocht, is deeper than at midnight.

North. James, I will give you twenty guineas for that keelivine sketch.

Shepherd. Ye'se hae't for naething, sir, and welcomeif you'll only fasten't against the wa' wi' a prin,2 aboon the brace-piece o' your Leebrary-room. Let it be in the middle, and you sall hae Twa Brigs to hing at either side on't. The ane, a' the time I was drawin't, I could hardly persuade mysel wasna a rainbow. You see it's flung across a torrent geyan far up a hill-side, and I was sittin sketchin't a gude piece doun below, on a cairn. The spray o' the torrent had wat a' the mosses, and flowers, and weeds, and siclike, on the arch, and the sun smote it wi' sudden 1 Whaups-curlews. 2 Prin-pin.

VOL. I.

K

146

THEY SIT DOWN TO SUPPER.

glory, till in an instant it burst into a variegated low, and I could hae taen my Bible-oath it was the rainbow. Oh! man, that I had had a pallet o' colours! I'm sure I could hae mixed them up prismatically aneuch,-yet wi' the verra mere, naked, unassisted keelivine (that day fortunately it was a red ane), I caught the character o' the apparition, and keepin my een for about a minute on the paper, shadin aff and aff, you ken, as fine as I could;-when I luckit up again, naething but a bare stane-and-lime Brig, wi' an auld man sittin on a powney, wi' his knees up to his chin, for he happened to be a cadger, and he had his creels. I felt as if it had been a' glamour. Sae muckle for ane o' the Twa Brigs.

Tickler. Now, James, if you please, we shall adjourn to supper. It is now exactly ten o'clock, and I smell the turkey. From seven o'clock to this blessed moment your tongue has never ceased wagging. I must now have my turn.

Shepherd. Tak your turn, and welcome. As for me, I never speak nane during supper. But you may e'en give us a soliloquy.

North. Ten o'clock! Now, James, eye the folding-doorsfor Ambrose is true to a second. Lo, and behold!

(The doors are thrown open.)

Shepherd. Stop, Mullion, stop. What! will ye daur to walk before Mr North ?-Tak my arm, sir.

North. My dear James, you are indeed my right-hand man. You are as firm as a rock. Thou art indeed the "Gentle Shepherd "

Shepherd. Gentle is that gentle does-and I hope, on the whole, nane o' my freen's hae ony reason to be ashamed o’ me, though I hae my failins.

North. I know not what they are, James. There there -on the right hand-ay, say the grace, James.-Thank ye, James—we have been joking away, but now it behoves us to sit down to serious eating, while Timothy regales our ears with a monologue.

(JUNE 1826.)

Blue Parlour.

NORTH, TICKLER, SHEPHERD, CLERK OF THE BALAAM-BOX, MR AMBROSE, DEVIL, PORTERS, AND INCREMATORS.

Shepherd. Safe us! I was never at an Incremation afore! North. Mr Ambrose, bring in Balaam,' and place him on the table.

Mr Ambrose. May I crave the assistance of the Incremators, sir?-for he is heavier this year than I ever remember him, since that succeeding the Chaldee.

Shepherd. Is yon him ower-by in the window neuk? I'se tak haud o' ane o' the end-handles mysel. Come, you wee lazy deevil there, what for are you skartin your lug at that gate? get up and be usefu'.-Noo, Mr Ambrose, let us put a' our strength till't, and try to hoise him up, our twa lanes, ontil the table.

Tickler. My dear Shepherd, you'll burst a blood-vessel. Let me assist.

North. And me too!

Shepherd. Dinna loot wi' that lang back o' yours, Mr Tickler. Pity me-I hear't crackin. There, it muves! It muves!-What for are you trampin on my taes, Awmrose?— Dinna girn that way in my face, Mr Beelzebub. Faith it gars us a' fowre stoiter.

(SHEPHERD, TICKLER, BEELZEBUB, and AMBROSE, succeed in placing the Balaam-box on the table.)

North. Thank ye, gentlemen. Here is a glass of Madeira to each of you.

1 See ante, p. 7, note 7.

• Loot-stoop.

3 Stoiter stagger.

Shepherd. North, rax me ower the Stork. There-that's a hantle heartsomer than ony o' your wines, either white or black. It's just maist excellent whisky, Glenlivet or no Glenlivet. But hech, sir, that's a sad box, that Balaam, and I'll weigh't against its ain bouk,' lead only excepted, o' ony ither material noo extant, and gie a stane.

North. Let the Incremators take their stations.

(They do so, one at each side of the chimney. The Incremators are firemen belonging to the Sun Fire Office.)

Devil!

Devil. Here!

North. Clerk of the B. B.!

C. B. B. Here!

North. Open Balaam.

C. B. B. Please, sir, to remember the catastrophe of last year. We must take the necessary precautions.

North. Certainly.-Mr Hogg, on opening Balaam, last year, we had neglected to put weight on the lid, and the moment the clerk had turned the key, it flew up with prodigious violence, and the jammed-down articles, as if discharged from a culverin, wafted destruction around-breaking that beautiful fifty-guinea mirror, in whose calm and lucid depths we had so often seen ourselves reflected to the very life-all but speech.

Shepherd. I could greet to think on't. A' dung to shivers -scarcely ae bit big aneuch to shave by. But the same shinna befa' the year-for I'se sit doun upon the lid like a guardian angel, and the lid 'll hae a powerfu' spring indeed, gin it whamles me ower after sic a denner.

(The SHEPHERD mounts the table with youthful alacrity, and sits down on the Balaam-box.)

North. Use both your hands, sir.

C. B. B. Beg your pardon-Mr North-there the key turns -Sit fast, Mr Hogg.

Shepherd. Never mind me-I'm sittin as fast's a rock.— (The lid, like a catapulta, dislodges the SHEPHERD, who alights on his feet a few yards from the table.) Tickler. My dear Shepherd, why, you are a rejected contributor!

1 Bouk-bulk.

2 Dung-knocked.

3 Shinna-shall not.