24 Hogg. Whilk are? BUCHANAN LODGE. North. The religion of our fathers-the institutions of our fathers-the edification of the public-and our own emolu. ment. Tickler. A capital creed. Do you conform, Hogg. Hogg. Are ye gaun to raise the price of a sheet this LadyDay, Mr North? North. My dear Hogg, what would you have? You are rolling in wealth—are you not? Hogg. Ay; but I wad like fine to be ower the head a'thegither, man. That's my apothegm. North. Let me see-Well, I think I may promise you a twenty-gallon tree this next Whitsunday, by way of a douceur -a small perquisite. Hogg. Twenty gallons, man,-that does not serve our house for sax weeks in the summer part of the year, when a' the leeterary warld is tramping about. But ne'er heed-mony thanks to you for your kind offer, sir. North. You must come down to my "happy rural seat of various view," James, on your spring visit to EdinburghBuchanan Lodge. Shepherd. Wi' a' my heart, Mr North. I hear you've been biggin a bonny Lodge near Larkfield yonder, within the murmur of the sea. A walk on the beach is a gran' thing for an appetite. Let's hear about your house. North. The whole tenement is on the ground flat. I abhor stairs; and there can be no peace in any mansion where heavy footsteps may be heard overhead. Suppose, James, three sides of a square-You approach the front by a fine serpentine avenue, and enter, slap-bang, through a wide glass-door, into a greenhouse, a conservatory of everything rich and rare in the world of flowers. Folding doors are drawn noiselessly into the walls, as if by magic, and lo! drawing-room and dining-room, stretching east and west in dim and distant perspective, commanding the Firth, the sea, the kingdom of Fife, and the Highland mountains! Shepherd. Mercy on us, what a panorama ! North. Another side of the square contains kitchen, servants' room, &c.; and the third side my study and bedrooms,—all still, silent, composed, standing obscure, unseen, unapproachable, holy. The fourth side of the square is not,-shrubs, THE SHEPHERD ON POULTRY. 25 25 and trees, and a productive garden shut me in from behind; while a ring-fence, enclosing about five acres, just sufficient for my nag and cow, form a magical circle, into which nothing vile or profane can intrude. ODoherty alone has overleaped my wall, but the Adjutant was in training for his great match (ten miles an hour), and when he ran bolt against me in Addison's Walk,' declared upon honour that he was merely taking a step across the country, and that he had no idea of being within a mile of any human abode. However, he staid dinner and over the Sunday. Shepherd. Do you breed poultry, sir?-You dinna? Do't then. You hae plenty o' bounds within five yacre. But mind you, big2 nae regular hen-house. You'll hae bits o' sheds, nae doubt, ahint the house, amang the offishes, and through amang the grounds; and the belts o' plantations are no very wide, nor the sherubberies stravagin awa into wild mountainous regions o' heather, whins, and breckans. North. Your imagination, James, is magnificent, even in negatives. But is all this poetry about hen-roosts? Shepherd. Ay. Let the creturs mak their ain nests, where'er they like, like pheasants, or patricks, or muirfowl. Their flesh will be the sappier, and mair highly flavoured on the board, and their shape and plummage beautifuller far, strutting about at liberty among your suburbs. Aboon a' things, for the love o' Heevin, nae Cavies! I can never help greeting, half in anger half in pity, when I see the necks o' some halfa-score forlorn chuckies jouking out and in the narrow bars o' their prison-house, dabbing at daigh and drummock.* I wonder if Mrs Fry ever saw sic a pitiful spectacle. North. I must leave the feathers to my females, James. Shepherd. Canna you be an overseer? Let the hens aye set theirsels; and never offer to tak ony notice o' the clockers. They canna thole being looked at, when they come screeching out frae their het eggs, a' in a fever, with their feathers tapsetowry, and howking holes in the yearth, till the gravel gangs down-through and aff among the plummage like dew-draps, and now scouring aff to some weel-kend corner for drink and victual. 1 So named after the celebrated walk in the grounds of Magdalen College, Oxford, where Professor Wilson was educated. 2 Big-build. 3 Cavies-hen-coops. 4 Daigh and drummock-dough and cold porridge. 26 TICKLER DISAPPEARS. North. You amaze me, James. a new world to me. You are opening up quite The mysteries of incubation. Hogg. Hae a regular succession o' clackins frae about the middle o' March till the end o' August, and never devour aff a haill clackin at ance. Aye keep some three or four pullets for eerocks, or for devouring through the winter; and never set aboon fourteen eggs to ae hen, nor indeed mair than a dizzen, unless she be a weel-feathered mawsie,1 and broad across the shoulders. North. Why, the place will be absolutely overrun with barn-door fowl. Shepherd. Barn-door fowl! Hoot awa! You maun hae a breed o' gem-birds. Nane better than the Lady-legg'd Reds. I ken the verra gem-eggs, at the first pree, frae your dunghill-as different as a pine-apple and a fozy turnip. North. The conversation has taken an unexpected turn, my dear Shepherd. I had intended keeping a few deer. 2 Shepherd. A few deevils! Na-na. You maun gang to the Thane's; or if that princely chiel be in Embro' or Lunnon, to James Laidlaw's and Watty Bryden's, in Strathglass, if you want deer. Keep you to the How-towdies. North. I hope, Mr Hogg, you will bring the mistress and the weans to the house-warming? Shepherd. I'll do that, and mony mair besides them.Whare the deevil's Mr Tickler? North. Off. He pretended to go to the pump for an aquatic supply, but he long ere now has reached Southside. 3 Shepherd. That's maist extraordinar. I could hae ta'en my Bible oath that I kept seeing him a' this time sitting right foreanent me, with his lang legs and nose, and een like daggers-but it must hae been ane o' Hibbert's phantasmsan idea has become more vivid than a present sensation. Is that philosophical language? What took him aff? I could sit for ever. Catch me breaking up the conviviality of the company. I'm just in grand spirits the nicht-come, here's an extempore lilt. 1 An easy-tempered, somewhat slovenly female, is called in Scotland a mawsie. 2 The Thane was the Earl of Fife, whose estates in Braemar abound in red deer. James Laidlaw and Walter Bryden were sheep-farmers in Strathglass. The former was the brother of William Laidlaw, Sir Walter Scott's friend and factor. 3 Mr Robert Sym, of whom Timothy Tickler was in some respects the eidolon, resided in No. 20 George Square, on the south side of Edinburgh. THE SHEPHERD'S SONG. AIR, "Whistle and I'll come to ye, my Lad." 1. If e'er you would be a brave fellow, young man, And wish to write lang, Come join wi' the lads that get mellow, young man. To the pith that's below The beard o' auld Geordie Buchanan,2 young man. 2. I heard a bit bird in the braken, young man, It sang till the Whigs were a' quaking, young man, Was, Alack for the day! For the Blue and the Yellow's forsaken, young man. But he'll never fight weel, As lang as he dadds wi' a docken, young man. 3. O wha wadna laugh at their capers, young man ? If ye To their very last shift, That's-puffing the Radical Papers, young man. Is sae loud in the air, That the windows of heaven play jingle, young man. 4. I'll give you a toast of the auldest, young man ; Be his glory our own," 1 The "Blue and the Yellow" is the Edinburgh Review. 2 The effigies of George Buchanan is the frontispiece to Blackwood's Magazine. 3 Pingle-difficulty. 28 SONG WRITTEN BY RIDDELL. And the last of his days aye the bauldest, young man.— Wi' his neb to the sun, And his doup to the General Director,1 young man. North. A perfect Pistrucci! Shepherd. Haud your tongue, and I'll sing you ane o' the bonniest sangs you ever heard in a' your born days. I dinna ken that I ever wrote a better ane mysel. It is by a friend o' mine-as yet an obscure man-Henry Riddell―t'ither day a shepherd like mysel-but now a student. SONG.-To the Air of " Lord Lennox." 1. When the glen all is still, save the stream from the fountain; There meet me, my Mary, adown by the wild-wood, 2. Thy locks shall be braided with pearls of the gloaming; For the light of thine eye is the home of my being, And my soul's fondest hopes are all gather'd to thee. North. Beautiful, indeed, James-Mr Riddell is a man of much merit, and deserves encouragement. The verses on the death of Byron, published a week ago by my friend John. 1 This is a mysterious allusion to that part of the town where executions take place.-C. N. Mr David Bridges, cloth-merchant, had a shop in the vicinity of the spot where persons "dance cutty-mun wi' their nebs to the sun," or, in plain language, are hanged. From a taste which he supposed himself to have in painting, he was dubbed by the Blackwood wits "General Director of the Fine Arts in Scotland." |