(NOVEMBER 1831.)

Scene, the Snuggery. Time,-Five o'clock. Actors,—NORTH, TICKLER, and the SHEPHERD. Occupation,-Dinner.

Shepherd. What'n a bill o' fare! As lang's ma airm was the slip o' paper endorsed wi' the vawrious eatems,1 and I was feared there micht be delusion in the promise; but here, far ayont a' hope, and aboon the wildest flichts o' fancy, the realisation o' the Feast!

North. Mine host has absolutely outdone to-day all his former outdoings. You have indeed, sir.

Ambrose. You make me too happy, sir.

Shepherd. Say ower proud, Picardy.

Ambrose. Pride was not made for man, Mr Hogg.—Mr North, I trust, will forgive me, if I have been too bold.

Shepherd. Nor woman neither. Never mind him; I forgie you, and that's aneuch. You've made a maist excellent observe. Tickler. Outambrosed Ambrose, by this regal regale !

Shepherd. I ken nae mair impressive situation for a human being to find himsel placed in, than in juxtaposition wi' a mony-dished denner afore the covers hae been removed. The sowl sets itsel at wark wi' a' its faculties, to form definite conceptions o' the infinite vareeities o' veeands on the eve o' being brocht to licht. Can this, it asks itsel in a laigh vice can this dish, in the immediate vicinity, be, do ye think, a roasted fillet o' veal, sae broon and buttery on the outside, wi' its crisp faulds o' fat, and sae white and sappy wi' its firm breadth o' lean, in the in? Frae its position, I jalouse that ashet can conteen nothing less than a turkey2 Jalouse-suspect.

2

1 Eatems-items.

TRUE SCOTTISH REGALIA.

275

and I could risk my salvation on't, that while yon's Westphally ham on the tae side, yon's twa how-towdies on the ither. Can you

Tickler. No man should speak with his mouth full.

Shepherd. Nor his head empty. But you're mistaken if you meant me, Mr Tickler, for ma mouth was at no period o' my late discourse, aboon half fu', as I was carefu' aye to keep swallowing as I went alang, and I dinna believe you could discern ony difference in my utterance. But, besides, I even-doun deny the propriety, as weel's the applicability, o' the apothegm. To enact that nae man shall speak during denner wi' his mouth fu', is about as reasonable as to pass a law that nae man, afore or after denner, shall speak wi' his mouth empty. Some feeble folk, I ken, hae a horror o' doin twa things at ance; but I like to do a score, provided they be in natur no only compatible but congenial.

Tickler. And who, pray, is to be the judge of that?

Shepherd. Mysel! Every man in this warld maun judge for himsel; and on nae account whatsomever suffer ony ither loon to judge for him, itherwise he'll gang to the deevil at a haun-canter.

North. Nobody follows that rule more inviolably than Tickler.

Shepherd. In the body, frae the tie o' his crawvat a' the way doun to that o' his shoon-in the sowl, frae the lightest surmise about a passing cloud on a showery day, to his maist awfu' thochts about a future state, when his extravagant and erring spirit hies" intil the verra bosom o' eternity. Tickler. James, a caulker.

Shepherd. Thank ye, sir, wi' a' my wull. That's prime. Pure speerit. Unchristened. Sma' stell. Gran' worm. Peet-reek. Glenlivet. Ferintosh. It wad argue that a man's heart wasna in the richt place, were he no, by pronouncin some bit affectionate epithet, to pay his debt o' gratitude to sic a caulker.

North. James, resume.

Shepherd. Suppose me, sir, surveying the scene, like Moses frae the tap o' Pisgah the Promised Land. There was a morning mist, and Moses stood awhile in imagination. But soon, sun-smitten, burst upon his vision through the translucent ether the region that flowed with milk and honey—while

276

TWO EPICURES AND A GLUTTON.

sighed nae mair the children o' Israel for the flesh-pats o' Egypt. Just sae, sirs, at the uplifting o' the covers, flashed the noo1 on our een the sudden revelation o' this langexpected denner. How simultawneous the muvement! As if they had been a' but ae man, a Briareus, like a waff o' lichtnin gaed the hauns o' Picardy, and Mon. Cadet, and King Pepin, and Sir Dawvid Gam, and Tappytoorie, and the Pech, and the Hoi Polloi; and, lo and behold! towerin tureens and forest-like epergnes, overshadowing the humbler warld o' ashets! Let nae man pretend after this to tell me the difference atween the Beautifu' and the Shooblime.

North. To him who should assert the distinction I would simply say, "Look at that Round!”

Shepherd. Ay, he wad fin' some diffeeculty in swallowin that, sir. The fack is, that the mawgic o' that Buttock o' Beef, considered as an objeck o' intellectual and moral Taste, lies in-Harmony. It reminds you o' that fine line in Byron, which beyond a' doubt was originally inspired by sic anither objeck, though afterwards differently applied,

"The soul, the music breathing from that face!"

Tickler. Profanation!

Shepherd. What! is there ony profanation in the application o' the principles and practice o' poetry to the common purposes o' life? Fancy and Imagination, sirs, can add an inch o' fat to round or sirloin, while at the same time they sae etherealeese its substance, that you can indulge to the supposable utmost in greediness, without subjectin yoursel, in your ain conscience, to the charge o' grossness-ony mair than did Adam or Eve when dining upon aipples wi' the angel Raphael in the bowers o' Paradise. And Heaven be praised that has bestowed on us three the gracious gift o' a sound, steady, but not unappeasable appeteet.

Tickler. North and I are Epicures—but you, James, I fear

are a

There's at least this comfort

Shepherd. Glutton. Be't sae. in ma case, that I look like ma meat

Tickler. Which at present appears to be cod's head and shoulders.

Shepherd. Whereas, to look at you, a body would imagine

1 The noo (the now)—at this moment.

A SLAVE OF THE SENSES.

277

that you leeved exclusively on sheep's head and trotters. As for you, Mr North, I never could faddom the philosophy o' your fondness for soups. For hotch-potch and cockyleekie the wisest o' men may hae a ruling passion; but to keep plowterin, platefu' after platefu' amang broon soup, is surely no verra consistent wi' your character. It's little better than moss-water. Speakin' o' cockyleekie, the man was an atheist that first polluted it wi' prunes.

North. At least no Christian.

Shepherd. Prunes gie't a sickenin sweetness, till it tastes like a mouthfu' o' a cockney poem; and, scunnerin, you splutter out the fruit, afraid that the loathsome lobe is a stinkin snail.

Tickler. Hogg, you have spoiled my dinner.

Shepherd. Then maun ye be the slave o' the senses, sir; and your verra imagination at the mercy o' your palat—or rather, veece versa, the roof o' your mouth maun haud the tenure o' its taste frae anither man's fancy-a pitiable condition-for a single word may change luxuries intil necessaries, and necessaries intil something no eatable, even during a siege.

North. 'Tis all affectation in Tickler this extreme fastidiousness and delicacy.

Shepherd. I defy the utmost power o' langage to disgust me wi' a gude denner. My stamack would soar superiorTickler. Mine, too, would rise.

Shepherd. Oh, sir, you're wutty! but I hate puns.-Tickler, is that mock?

Tickler. I believe it is: but the imitation excels the original, even as Byron's Beppo is preferable to Frere's Giants. Shepherd. A' but the green fat.

North. Deep must be the foundation, and strong the superstructure, of that friendship which can sustain the shock of seeing its object eating mock-turtle soup from a plate of imitation silver

--

Shepherd. Meaner than pewter, as is the soup than sowens. An invaluable apothegm!

North. Not that I belong, James, to the Silver-fork School.1 Shepherd. The flunkeys-as we weel ca'd them, sir-a contumelious nickname, which that unco dour and somewhat stupit radical in the Westminster, would try to make himsel 1 Novelists of the Theodore Hook class had been thus characterised.

believe he invented ower again, when the impident plagiary changed it as he did the ither day-into "Lackey."

North. I merely mean, James, that at bed or board I abhor all deception.

Shepherd. Sae, sir, div1 I. A plated spoon is a pitifu' imposition; recommend me to horn; and then nane o' your egg-spoons, or pap-spoons for weans, but ane about the diameter o' my loof, that when you put it weel ben into your mouth, gars your cheeks swall, and your een shut wi' satisfaction.

Tickler. I should like to have your picture, my dear James, taken in that gesture.

North. Finely done in miniature, by MacLeay.

Tickler. No. By some savage Rosa.

Shepherd. A' I mean, sirs, is sincerity and plain-dealing. "One man," says the auld proverb, "is born wi' a silver spoon in his mouth, and another wi' a wudden ladle." Noo, what would be the feelings o' the first, were he to find that fortune had clapt intil his mouth, as Nature was geein him to the warld, what to a' appearance was a silver spoon, and by the howdie and a' the kimmers sae denominated accordingly, but when shown to Mr Morton the jeweller, or Messrs Mackay and Cunninghame, was pronounced plated? He would sigh sair for the wudden ladle. Indeed, gents, I'm no sure but it's better nor even the real siller metal. In the first place, it's no sae apt to be stown; in the second, maist things taste weel out o' wud; thirdly, there's nae expense in keepin't clean, whereas siller requires constant pipe-clay, leather, or flannen; fourthly, I've seen them wi' a maist beautifu' polish, acquired in coorse o' time by the simple process o' sookin the horn as it gaed in and out o' the mouth; fifthly, there's ten thousand times mair vareeity in the colours; sixthly

Tickler. Enough in praise of the Wooden Spoon. Poor fellow! I always pity that unfortunate annual.

Shepherd. Unfortunate annual! You canna weel be fou already; yet, certes, you're beginnin to haver-and indeed I have observed, no without pain, that a single caulker somehoo or ither superannuates ye, Mr Tickler.

1 Div-do.

2 Kimmers-gossips.

3 Stown-stolen.

4 The lowest graduate in honours at Cambridge is so called.