WELCOME TO THE NEW HOTEL. Of our honours and glories our children may tell, Be it ours the triumphant career to pursue, And laugh at the dunces in Yellow and Blue! We have One who will stand as he ever has stood, He will still find the wise, and the fair, and the good, And he who supreme in Arcadia reigns, With his heart-stirring Doric our meetings will cheer; And the Hero of many a glorious field, His best and his happiest hours will recall, Except to the spirit that conquers us All! 3 To his glorious cause been so loyal and true, 4 And proudly will hear it re-echoed by You! The days that are gone we can never regret, While gilded with honour they rise on our view; But remember the Old, while we drink to the New! 89 Tickler. Most precocious! Pope did not write anything equal to it at thirteen. It beats the Ode to Solitude all to sticks. Are you at the New Academy, Master Ambrose ? 1 North. 2 Hogg. 3 ODoherty which sobriquet, it should be mentioned, was sometimes applied (as is the case here) to Captain Thomas Hamilton, author of Cyril Thornton, as well as to Dr Maginn. 4 Tickler. 90 THE HIGH SCHOOL. Master Ambrose. No, sir-at the High School. Tickler. Right. You live in the vicinity. Is it not a burning shame, Shepherd, that the many thousand rich and prosperous men who have been educated at the High School, cannot-will not-raise a sum sufficient to build a new Edifice on a better site ? 1 Shepherd. It disna tell weel. Tickler. A High School there must be, as well as an Academy. Both should have fair play, and education will be greatly bettered by the generous rivalry. Never were there better masters in the High School than now-gentlemen and scholars all. One loses all patience to hear the gabble about Parthenons, forsooth, when about eight or ten thousand pounds is all that is wanted to build, on Hamilton's beautiful plan, a school for the education of the sons of the citizens of modern Athens. Thank you, Master Ambrose.-(Exit High-School Boy.) A fine, modest, intelligent boy! Shepherd. Just uncommon. The Embro' folk I never could thoroughly understand, and yet I hae studied them closely in a' ranks, frae the bench to the bar, I may say, from the poupit to the pozzi. They couldna build their ain College-they wunna build their ain High School; and yet, to hear them talk o' their city o' palaces, you would think they were all so many Lorenzoes the Magnificent. Tickler. The English laugh at us. Look at London-look at Liverpool. Is money wanted for any noble purpose? In a single day, you have hundreds of thousands. Shepherd. Come, come-let us be in better humour. Is the oysters verra gude this season? I shanna stir frae this chair till I hae devoored five score o' them. That's just my allowance on coming in frae the kintra. Tickler. James, that is a most superb cloak. Is the clasp pure gold? You are like an officer of Hussars-like one of the Prince's Own. Spurs too, I protest! Shepherd. Sit closer, Mr Tickler, sit closer, man; light 1 The new Edinburgh Academy was established in 1825. The High School dates from 1519. After having stood for many years at the foot of Infirmary Street, it was removed to a "better site" on the Calton Hill in 1825, where Hamilton's "beautiful plan" now stands realised. 2 Certain dungeons sunk in the thick walls of the North Bridge, and dedicated to somewhat ignoble purposes, are (or were) called Pozzi. For a curious account of them, see Blackwood's Magazine, vol. iii. p. 202. THE SHEPHERD'S SECRET. 91 your cigar, and puff away like a steam-engine-though ye ken I just detest smokin;-for I hae a secret to communicatea secret o' some pith and moment, Mr Tickler; and I want to see your face in a' the strength o' its maist natural expression, when I am lettin you intil't.-Fill your glass, sir. Tickler. Don't tell it to me, James-don't tell it to me; for the greatest enjoyment I have in this life is to let out a secret -especially if it has been confided to me as a matter of life and death. Shepherd. I'll rin a' hazards. I maun out wi't to you; for I hae aye had the most profoun' respect for your abeelities, and I hae a pleasure in geein you the start o' the world for four-and-twenty hours.-I am noo the Yeditor o' Blackwood's Magazine. Tickler. Angels and ministers of grace defend us! Shepherd. Why, you see, sir, they couldna do without me. North's gettin verra auld—and, between you and me, rather doited-crabbed to the contributors, and-come hither wi' your lug―no verra ceevil to Ebony himsel;-so out comes letter upon letter to me, in Yarrow yonder, fu' o' the maist magnificent offers indeed, telling me to fix my ain terms; and faith, just to get rid o' the endless fash o' letters by the carrier, I druve into toun here, in the Whusky, through Peebles, on the Saturday o' the hard frost, and that same night was installed into the Yeditorship in the Sanctum Sanctorum. Tickler. Well, James, all that Russian affair' is a joke to this. Nicholas, Constantine, and the old Mother-Empress, may go to the devil and shake themselves, now that you, my dear, dear Shepherd, are raised to the Scottish throne. Shepherd. Wha wad hae thocht it, Mr Tickler,-wha wad hae thocht it-that day when I first entered the Grassmarket, wi' a' my flock afore me, and Hector youf-youfin round the Gallow-Stane-where, in days of yore, the saints Tickler. Sire? Shepherd. Nane o' your mockin-I'm the Editor; and, to prove't, I'll order in-the Balaam-box. Tickler. James, as you love me, open not that box.-Pandora's was a joke to it. 1 The "Russian affair" was the declinature by Constantine of the Russian sceptre, in favour of his younger brother Nicholas, who died on the 2d of March 1855. 92 THE BALAAM-BOX. Shepherd. Ha ha ha! Mr Tickler, you're feared that I'll lay my haun on yane o' articles. O man, your O man, but you're a vain auld chiel; just a bigot to your ain abeelities. But hear me, sir; you maun compose in a mair classical style, gin you think o' continuing a contributor. I must not let down the character of the work to flatter a few feckless fumblers. Mr Ambrose-Mr Ambrose-the Balaam-box, I tell you-I hae been ringing this half-hour for the Balaam-box. Mr Ambrose. Here is the Safe, sir. I observe the spider is still in the key-hole; but as Mr North, God bless him, told me not to disturb him, I have given him a few flies daily that I found in an old bottle; perhaps he will get out of the way when he feels the key. Tickler. James, that spider awakens in my mind the most agreeable recollections. Shepherd. Dang your speeders. But, Mr Ambrose, where's the Monthly Budget? Mr Ambrose. Here, sir. Shepherd (emptying the green bag on the table). Here, Mr Tickler. Here's a sight for sair een-materials for a dizzen Numbers. Arrange them by tens-that's right; what a show! I'm rich aneuch to pay aff the national debt. Let us see"Absenteeism." The speeder maun be disturbed-into the Balaam-box must this article go. Gude preserve us, what a weight! I wonder what my gude auld father wad hae said, had he lived to see the day, when it became a great public question, whether it was better or waur for a country that she should hae nae inhabitants! Tickler. Here's an essay on Popular Education. Shepherd. Rax't ower.' Ay, ay, I see how it is-Institutions, Mechanic Institutions. That's no the way, in the ordinary coorse o' nature, that the mind acquires knowledge. As the general wealth and knowledge of the country increases, men, in all conditions, will of themselves become better informed. Then the education of the young will be better attended to— generation after generation that will be the case-till, feenally, education will be general in town and country, and the nation will be more enlightened, powerful, happy, and free. But now, they are putting the cart before the horse; and the naig will get reesty, and kick aff the breeching. 1 Rax't-hand it. 2 Reesty-restive. TICKLER ON THE CREMONA. Tickler. Here's a poem. 93 Shepherd. Fling it into the fire;-poetry's a drog. Queen Hynde is still in her first edition. Tickler. The evil has wrought its own cure. But, on my honour, the verses are pretty. Another version of our favourite German song.—I'll sing them to the fiddle. (TICKLER sings to his Cremona.) The Rhine! the Rhine!-May on thy flowing river And on thy banks may freedom's light fade never!— The Rhine! the Rhine !-My fancy still is straying, Of auburn locks in balmy zephyrs playing :- The German knight the lance has bravely broken The German maid the tale of love has spoken With patriot zeal the gallant Swiss is fired, The dull Batavian, on thy banks inspired, And shall we fear the threat of foreign foeman ?-- And drink, while life, and love, and beauty passes,— Shepherd. Faith, ye hae a gran' bow-hand, Mr Tickler. Ye wad be a welcome guest in the kitchen o' ony farm-house in a' Scotland, during the lang winter nichts. The lasses "would loup as they were daft, when ye blew up your chanter." Shame on the spinnet, and the flute, and a' instruments, but the fiddle. Tickler. Many and oft is the time, James, that in my younger days I have set the shepherd's and farmer's family a-dancing,on to the sma' hours. They would send out the bit herd laddie to collect the queans,-and they came all flocking in, just a |