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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Punch in the Highlands, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mr. Punch in the Highlands
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: J. A. Hammerton
+
+Illustrator: Charles Keene
+             and others
+
+Release Date: October 30, 2011 [EBook #37882]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. PUNCH IN THE HIGHLANDS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Neville Allen, Chris Curnow and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    MR. PUNCH IN THE HIGHLANDS
+
+    PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR
+
+    Edited by J. A. Hammerton
+
+Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the
+cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic
+draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch", from its
+beginning in 1841 to the present day.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH IN THE HIGHLANDS
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration: THRIFT
+
+_Highlander (he had struck his foot against a "stane")._ "Phew-ts!--e-eh
+what a ding ma puir buit wad a gotten if a'd had it on!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH IN THE HIGHLANDS
+
+[Illustration]
+
+AS PICTURED BY
+
+CHARLES KEENE, JOHN LEECH, GEORGE DU MAURIER, W. RALSTON, L. RAVEN-HILL,
+J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE, E. T. REED, G. D. ARMOUR, CECIL ALDIN, A. S. BOYD,
+ETC.
+
+_WITH 140 ILLUSTRATIONS_
+
+PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH"
+
+THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Punch Library of Humour
+
+_Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages
+fully illustrated_
+
+    LIFE IN LONDON
+    COUNTRY LIFE
+    IN THE HIGHLANDS
+    SCOTTISH HUMOUR
+    IRISH HUMOUR
+    COCKNEY HUMOUR
+    IN SOCIETY
+    AFTER DINNER STORIES
+    IN BOHEMIA
+    AT THE PLAY
+    MR. PUNCH AT HOME
+    ON THE CONTINONG
+    RAILWAY BOOK
+    AT THE SEASIDE
+    MR. PUNCH AFLOAT
+    IN THE HUNTING FIELD
+    MR. PUNCH ON TOUR
+    WITH ROD AND GUN
+    MR. PUNCH AWHEEL
+    BOOK OF SPORTS
+    GOLF STORIES
+    IN WIG AND GOWN
+    ON THE WARPATH
+    BOOK OF LOVE
+    WITH THE CHILDREN
+
+[Illustration]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NORTHWARD HO!
+
+SCOTSMEN--Highlanders and Lowlanders--have furnished Mr. Punch with many
+of his happiest jokes. Despite the curious tradition which the Cockney
+imbibes with his mother's milk as to the sterility of Scotland in
+humour, the Scots are not only the cause of humour in others but there
+are occasions when they prove themselves not entirely bereft of the
+faculty which, with his charming egoism, the Cockney supposes to be his
+own exclusive birthright. Indeed, we have it on the authority of Mr.
+Spielmann, the author of "The History of _Punch_", that "of the accepted
+jokes from unattached contributors (to Punch), it is a notable fact that
+at least 75 per cent. comes from north of the Tweed." As a very
+considerable proportion of these Scottish jokes make fun of the national
+characteristics of the Scot, it is clear that Donald has the supreme
+gift of being able to laugh at himself. It should be noted, however,
+that Mr. Punch's most celebrated Scottish joke ("Bang went saxpence"),
+which we give on page 153, was no invention, but merely the record of an
+actual conversation overheard by an Englishman!
+
+In the present volume the purpose has been not so much to bring together
+a representative collection of the Scottish humour that has appeared in
+_Punch_, but to illustrate the intercourse of the "Sassenach" with the
+Highlander, chiefly as a visitor bent on sport, and incidentally to
+illustrate some of the humours of Highland life. Perhaps the distinction
+between Highlander and Lowlander has not been very rigidly kept, but
+that need trouble none but the pedants, who are notoriously lacking in
+the sense of humour, and by that token ought not to be peeping into
+these pages.
+
+Of all Mr. Punch's contributors, we may say, without risk of being
+invidious, that Charles Keene was by far the happiest in the portrayal
+of Scottish character. His Highland types are perhaps somewhat closer to
+the life than his Lowlanders, but all are invariably touched off with
+the kindliest humour, and never in any way burlesqued. If his work
+overshadows that of the other humorous artists past and present
+represented in this volume, it is for the reason stated; yet it will be
+found that from the days of John Leech to those of Mr. Raven-Hill. MR.
+PUNCH'S artists have seldom been more happily inspired than when they
+have sought to depict Highland life and the lighter side of sport and
+travel north of the Tweed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH IN THE HIGHLANDS
+
+SPORTING NOTES
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The following are the notes we have received from our Sporting
+Contributor. I wish we could say they were a fair equivalent for the
+notes he has received from _us_, to say nothing of that new Henry's
+patent double central-fire breech-loader, with all the latest
+improvements, and one of Mr. Benjamin's heather-mixture suits. Such as
+they are we print them, with the unsatisfactory consolation that if the
+notes are bad they are like the sport and the birds. Of all these it may
+be said that "bad is the best."
+
+_North and South Uist._--The awfully hard weather--the natives call it
+"soft" here--having rendered the chances of winged game out of the
+question, the sportsmen who have rented the shootings are glad to try
+the chances of the game, sitting, and have confined themselves to the
+whist from which the islands take their name. Being only two, they are
+reduced to double dummy. As the rental of the Uist Moors is L400, they
+find the points come rather high--so far.
+
+_Harris._--In spite of repeated inquiries, the proprietress of the
+island was not visible. Her friend, Mrs. Gamp, now here on a visit,
+declares she saw Mrs. H. very recently, but was quite unable to give me
+any information as to shootings, except the shootings of her own corns.
+
+_Fifeshire._--The renters of the Fife shootings generally have been
+seriously considering the feasibility of combining with those of the
+once well-stocked Drum Moor in Aberdeenshire, to get up something like
+a band--of hope, that a bag may be made some day. Thus far, the only
+bags made have been those of the proprietors of the shootings, who have
+bagged heavy rentals.
+
+_Rum._--I call the island a gross-misnomer, as there is nothing to drink
+in it but whiskey, which, with the adjacent "Egg", may be supposed to
+have given rise to the neighbouring "Mull"--hot drinks being the natural
+resource of both natives and visitors in such weather as we've had ever
+since I crossed the Tweed. I have seen one bird--at least so the gilly
+says--after six tumblers, but to me it had all the appearance of a
+brace.
+
+_Skye._--Birds wild. Sportsmen, ditto. Sky a gloomy grey--your
+correspondent and the milk at the hotel at Corrieverrieslushin alike
+sky-blue.
+
+_Cantire._--Can't you? Try tramping the moors for eight hours after a
+pack of preternaturally old birds that know better than let you get
+within half a mile of their tails. Then see if you can't tire. I beg
+your pardon, but if you knew what it was to make jokes under my present
+circumstances, you'd give it up, or do worse. If I should not turn up
+shortly, and you hear of an inquest on a young man, in one of
+Benjamin's heather-mixture suits, with a Henry's central-fire
+breech-loader, and a roll of new notes in his possession, found hanging
+wet through, in his braces in some remote Highland shieling--break it
+gently to the family of
+
+    Your Sporting Contributor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A PIBROCH FOR BREAKFAST.
+
+  Hech, ho, the Highland laddie!
+  Hech, ho, the Finnon haddie!
+        Breeks awa',
+        Heck, the braw,
+  Ho, the bonnie tartan plaidie!
+        Hech, the laddie,
+        Ho, the haddie,
+  Hech, ho, the cummer's caddie,
+        Dinna forget
+        The bannocks het,
+  Gin ye luve your Highland laddie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Member for Sark writes from the remote Highlands of Scotland, where
+he has been driving past an interminable series of lochs, to inquire
+where the keys are kept? He had better apply to the local authorities in
+the Isle of Man. They have a whole House of Keys. Possibly those the
+hon. Member is concerned about may be found among them.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: ON THE HILLS
+
+_Deer Stalker (old hand, and fond of it)._ "Isn't it exciting? Keep
+cool!"
+
+  [_Jones isn't used to it, and, not having moved for the last half-hour,
+  his excitement has worn off. He's wet through, and sinking fast in the
+  boggy ground, and speechless with cold. So he doesn't answer._
+
+]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: 1) MR. BUGGLE'S FIRST STAG.
+
+AT THE FIRST SHOT MR BUGGLE'S FIRST STAG LAY PRONE.]
+
+[Illustration: 2) ELATED WITH SUCCESS MR B. RUSHED UP AND SEATED HIMSELF
+ASTRIDE HIS VICTIM]
+
+[Illustration: 3) BUT ALAS IT WAS ONLY SLIGHTLY STUNNED, AND PROMPTLY
+ROSE TO THE OCCASION.]
+
+[Illustration: 4) SO DID MR B.]
+
+[Illustration: 5) THE LAW OF GRAVITY PROVED TOO STRONG WHEN A LUCKY SHOT
+FROM THE KEEPER]
+
+[Illustration: 6) PLACED MATTERS UPON A SATISFACTORY FOOTING ONCE MORE.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: MY ONLY SHOT AT A CORMORANT.
+
+Here she comes!]
+
+[Illustration: There she goes!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+FULL STOP IN THE DAWDLE FROM THE NORTH.
+
+(_Leaves from the Highland Journal of Toby, M.P._)
+
+"Here's a go", I said, turning to Sark, after carefully looking round
+the station to see if we really were back at Oban, having a quarter of
+an hour ago started (as we supposed) on our journey, already fifteen
+minutes late.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Well, if you put it in that way", he said, "I should call it an entire
+absence of go. I thought it was a peculiarly jolting train. Never passed
+over so many points in the same time in my life."
+
+"Looks as if we should miss train at Stirling", I remark, anxiously. "If
+so, we can't get on from Carlisle to Woodside to-night."
+
+"Oh, that'll be all right", said Sark, airy to the last; "we'll make it
+up as we go along."
+
+Again sort of faint bluish light, which I had come to recognise as a
+smile, feebly flashed over cadaverous countenance of the stranger in
+corner seat.
+
+Certainly no hurry in getting off. More whistling, more waving of green
+flag. Observed that natives who had come to see friends off had quietly
+waited on platform. Train evidently expected back. Now it had returned
+they said good-bye over again to friends. Train deliberately steams out
+of station thirty-five minutes late. Every eight or ten miles stopped at
+roadside station. No one got in or got out. After waiting five or six
+minutes, to see if any one would change his mind, train crawled out
+again. Performance repeated few miles further on with same result.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Don't put your head out of the window and ask questions", Sark
+remonstrated, as I banged down the window. "I never did it since I heard
+a story against himself John Bright used to tell with great glee.
+Travelling homeward one day in a particularly slow train, it stopped an
+unconscionably long time at Oldham. Finally, losing all patience, he
+leaned out of the window, and in his most magisterial manner said, 'Is
+it intended that this train shall move on to-night?' The porter
+addressed, not knowing the great man, tartly replied, 'Put in thy big
+white yedd, and mebbe the train'll start.'"
+
+Due at Loch Awe 1.32; half-past one when we strolled into Connel Ferry
+station, sixteen miles short of that point. Two more stations before we
+reach Loch Awe.
+
+"Always heard it was a far cry to Loch Awe", said Sark, undauntedly
+determined to regard matters cheerfully.
+
+"You haven't come to the hill yet", said a sepulchral voice in the
+corner.
+
+"What hill?" I asked.
+
+"Oh, you'll see soon enough. It's where we usually get out and walk. If
+there are on board the train any chums of the guard or driver, they are
+expected to lend a shoulder to help the train up."
+
+Ice once broken, stranger became communicative. Told us his melancholy
+story. Had been a W.S. in Edinburgh. Five years ago, still in prime of
+life, bought a house at Oban; obliged to go to Edinburgh once, sometimes
+twice, a week. Only thrice in all that time had train made junction
+with Edinburgh train at Stirling. Appetite failed; flesh fell away;
+spirits went down to water level. Through looking out of window on
+approaching Stirling, in hope of seeing South train waiting, eyes put on
+that gaze of strained anxiety that had puzzled me. Similarly habit
+contracted of involuntarily jerking up right hand with gesture designed
+to arrest departing train.
+
+"Last week, coming north from Edinburgh", said the hapless passenger,
+"we were two hours late at Loch Awe. 'A little late to-day, aren't we?'
+I timidly observed to the guard. 'Ou aye! we're a bit late,' he said.
+'Ye see, we had a lot of rams, and we couldna' get baith them and you up
+the hill; so we left ye at Tyndrum, and ran the rams through first, and
+then came back for ye.'"
+
+Fifty minutes late at Killin Junction. So far from making up time lost
+at Oban, more lost at every wayside station.
+
+"I hope we shan't miss the train at Stirling?" I anxiously inquired of
+guard.
+
+"Weel, no", said he, looking at his watch. "I dinna think ye'll hae
+managed that yet."
+
+This spoken in soothing tones, warm from the kindly Scottish heart.
+Hadn't yet finally lost chance of missing train at Stirling that should
+enable us to keep our tryst at Woodside. But no need for despair. A
+little more dawdling and it would be done.
+
+Done it was. When we reached Stirling, porters complacently announced
+English mail had left quarter of an hour ago. As for stationmaster, he
+was righteously indignant with inconsiderate travellers who showed
+disposition to lament their loss.
+
+"Good night", said cadaverous fellow-passenger, feebly walking out of
+darkling station. "Hope you'll get a bed somewhere. Having been going up
+and down line for five years, I keep a bedroom close by. Cheaper in the
+end. I shall get on in the morning."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MERE INVENTION.--Up the Highlands way there is, in wet weather, a
+handsome cataract, the name whereof is spelt anyhow you like, but is
+pronounced "Fyres." There is not much water in hot weather, and then art
+assists nature, and a bucket or so of the fluid is thrown over for the
+delectation of tourists. One of them, observing this arrangement, said
+that the proprietor
+
+     "Began to pail his ineffectual Fyres."
+
+[This story is quite false, which would be of no consequence, but that
+every Scottish tourist knows it to be false. Our contributor should
+really be more careful.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "Where can that confounded fellow have got to with the
+lunch-basket?"]
+
+[Illustration: Here he is, remarking, confidentially, that "that
+ginger-peer is apout the pest he ever tasted."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _Cockney Sportsman._ "Haw--young woman, whose whiskies do
+you keep here?"
+
+_Highland Lassie._ "We only keep McPherson's, sir."
+
+_C. S._ "McPherson? Haw--who the deuce is McPherson?"
+
+_H. L._ "My brother, sir."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: During Mr. Spoffin's visit to the Highlands, he found a
+difficulty in approaching his game--so invented a method of simplifying
+matters. His "make-up", however, was so realistic, that the jealous old
+stag nearly finished him!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: HIS IDEA OF IT
+
+_Native._ "Is 't no a daft-like place this tae be takin' a view? There's
+no naething tae be seen for the trees. Noo, if ye was tae gang tae the
+tap o' Knockcreggan, that wad set ye fine! Ye can see _five coonties_
+frae there!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: TOURING IN THE HIGHLANDS
+
+"Hullo, Sandy! Why haven't you cleaned my carriage, as I told you last
+night?"
+
+"Hech, sir, what for would it need washing? It will be just the same
+when you'll be using it again!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+FROM OUR BILIOUS CONTRIBUTOR.
+
+_To_ MR. PUNCH.
+
+MY DEAR SIR,[A]
+
+Embarking at Bannavie very early in the morning--_diluculo surgere
+saluberrimum est_, but it is also particularly disagreeable--I was upon
+the canal of the Caledonians, on my way to the capital of the Highlands.
+This is the last voyage which, upon this occasion, I shall have the
+pleasure of describing. The vessel was commanded by Captain Turner, who
+is a remarkable meteorologist, and has emitted some wonderful weather
+prophecies. Having had, moreover, much opportunity of observing
+character, in his capacity of captain of boats chiefly used by tourists,
+he is well acquainted with the inmost nature of the aristocracy and
+their imitators. Being myself of an aristocratic turn of mind (as well
+as shape of body) it was refreshing to me to sit with him on the bridge
+and speak of our titled friends.
+
+[Footnote A: We perfectly understand this advance towards civility as
+the writer approaches the end of his journey. He is a superior kind of
+young man, if not the genius he imagines himself.--_Ed._]
+
+Fort Augustus, which we passed, is not called so from having been built
+by the Roman Emperor of that name, quite the reverse. The next object of
+interest is a thing called the Fall of Foyers, which latter word is
+sounded like fires, and the announcement to Cockneys that they are going
+to see the affair, leads them to expect something of a pyrotechnic
+character. It is nothing of that sort. The steamboat is moored, you rush
+on shore, and are instantly arrested by several pikemen--I do not mean
+soldiers of a mediaeval date, but fellows at a gate, who demand fourpence
+apiece from everybody landing in those parts. Being in Scotland, this
+naturally made me think I had come to Johnny Groat's house, but no such
+thing, and I have no idea of the reason of this highway robbery, or why
+a very dirty card should have been forced upon me in proof that I had
+submitted. We were told to go up an ascending road, and then to climb a
+dreadfully steep hill, and that then we should see something. For my own
+part, I felt inclined to see everybody blowed first, but being
+over-persuaded, I saw everybody blowed afterwards, for that hill is a
+breather, I can tell you. However, I rushed up like a mounting deer, and
+when at the top was told to run a little way down again. I did, and saw
+the sight. You have seen the cataracts of the Nile? It's not like them.
+You have seen a cataract in a party's eye. It's not like that. Foyers is
+a very fine waterfall, and worthy of much better verses than some which
+Mr. Burns addressed to it in his English style, which is vile. Still,
+the waterfall at the Colosseum, Regent's Park, is a good one, and has
+this advantage, that you can sit in a chair and look at it as long as
+you like, whereas you walk a mile to Foyers, goaded by the sailors from
+the vessel, who are perpetually telling you to make haste, and you are
+allowed about three minutes and fourteen seconds to gaze upon the scene,
+when the sailors begin to goad you back again, frightening you with
+hints that the captain will depart without you. Precious hot you come on
+board, with a recollection of a mass of foam falling into an abyss. That
+is not the way to see Foyers, and I hereby advise all tourists who are
+going to stop at Inverness, to drive over from thence, take their time
+at the noble sight, and do the pier-beggars out of their fourpences.
+
+The stately towers of the capital of the Highlands are seen on our
+right. A few minutes more, and we are moored. Friendly voices hail us,
+and also hail a vehicle. We are borne away. There is news for us. We are
+forthwith--even in that carriage, were it possible--to induct ourselves
+into the black tr x ws x rs of refined life and the white cravat of
+graceful sociality, and to accompany our host to the dinner of the
+Highland railwaymen. _We_ rail. We have not come six hundred miles to
+dress for dinner. Our host is of a different opinion, and being a host
+in himself, conquers our single-handed resistance. We attend the dinner,
+and find ourselves among Highland chieftains plaided and plumed in their
+"tartan array." (Why doesn't Horatio MacCulloch, noble artist and
+Highland-man, come to London and be _our_ tartan R.A.?) We hear wonders
+of the new line, which is to save folks the trouble of visiting the lost
+tribe at Aberdeen, and is to take them direct from Inverness to Perth,
+through wonderful scenery. We see a programme of toasts, to the number
+of thirty-four, which of course involves sixty-eight speeches. There is
+also much music by the volunteers--not, happily, by bag-pipers. We
+calculate, on the whole, that the proceedings will be over about four in
+the morning. Ha! ha! _Dremacky_. There is a _deus ex machina_ literally,
+a driver on an engine, and he starts at ten. Numbers of the guests must
+go with him. _Claymore!_ We slash out the toasts without mercy--without
+mercy on men set down to speak and who have spoiled their dinner by
+thinking over their _impromptus_. But there is one toast which shall be
+honoured, yea, with the Highland honours. _Mr. Punch's_ health is
+proposed. It is well that this handsome hall is built strongly, or the
+Highland maidens should dance here no more. The shout goes up for _Mr.
+Punch_.
+
+I believe that I have mentioned to you, once or twice, that I am an
+admirable speaker, but upon this occasion I surpassed myself--I was in
+fact, as the Covent Garden play-bills say, "unsurpassingly successful."
+Your interests were safe in my hands. I believe that no person present
+heard a syllable of what I said. It was this:
+
+     [It may have been, but as what our correspondent has been pleased
+     to send as his speech would occupy four columns, we prefer to leave
+     it to immortality in the excellent newspaper of which he sends us a
+     "cutting." We incline to think that he _was_ weak enough to say
+     what he says he said, because he could not have invented and
+     written it out after a Highland dinner, and it was published next
+     morning. It is extremely egotistical, and not in the least
+     entertaining--_Ed._]
+
+Among the guests was a gentleman who owns the mare who will certainly
+win the Cesarewitch. _I know this for a fact_, and I advise you to put
+your money on _Lioness_. His health was proposed, and he returned thanks
+with the soul of wit. I hope he recollects the hope expressed by the
+proposer touching a certain saddling-bell. I thought it rather strong in
+"Bible-loving Scotland", but to be sure, we were in the Highlands, which
+are England, or at all events where the best English spoken in Scotland
+is heard.
+
+We reached our house at an early hour, and I was lulled to a gentle
+slumber by the sound of the river Ness. This comes out of Loch Ness, and
+in the latest geographical work with which I am acquainted, namely,
+"Geography Anatomiz'd, by Pat. Gordon, M.A.F.R.S. Printed for Andr.
+Bell, at the Cross Keys and Bible in Cornhill, and R. Smith, under the
+Royal Exchange, 1711", I read that "towards the north-west part of
+_Murray_ is the famous _Lough-Ness_ which never freezeth, but retaineth
+its natural heat, even in the extremest cold of winter, and in many
+places this lake hath been sounded with a line of 500 fathom, but no
+bottom can be found" (just as in the last rehearsal of the artisans'
+play in the _Midsummer Night's Dream_), but I believe that recent
+experiments have been more successful, and that though no lead plummet
+would go so deep, a volume by a very particular friend of mine was
+fastened to the line, and descended to the bottom in no time. I will
+mention his name if he is not kind to my next work, but at present I
+have the highest esteem and respect for him. I only show him that I know
+this little anecdote.
+
+There were what are called Highland games to be solemnised in Inverness.
+I resolved to attend them, and, if I saw fit, to join in them. But I was
+informed by a Highland friend of mine, Laidle of Toddie, a laird much
+respected, that all competitors must appear in the kilt. As my own
+graceful proportions would look equally well in any costume, this
+presented no difficulty, and I marched off to Mr. Macdougall, the great
+Highland costumier, and after walking through a dazzling array of Gaelic
+glories, I said, mildly, "Can you make me a Highland dress?"
+
+"Certainly, in a few hours", said Mr. Macdougall; but somehow I fancied
+that he did not seem to think that I was displaying any vast amount of
+sense.
+
+"Then, please to make me one, very handsome", said I; "and send it home
+to-night." And I was going out of the warehouse.
+
+"But, sir", said Mr. Macdougall, "do you belong to any clan, or what
+tartan will you have?"
+
+"Mr. Macdougall", said I, "it may be that I do belong to a clan, or am
+affiliated to one. It may be, that like Edward Waverley, I shall be
+known hereafter as the friend of the sons (and daughters) of the
+clan ----. It may be that if war broke out between that clan and another,
+I would shout our war-cry, and, drawing my claymore, would walk into the
+hostile clan like one o'clock. But at present that is a secret, and I
+wear not the garb of any clan in particular. Please to make me up a
+costume out of the garbs of several clans, but be sure you put the
+brightest colours, as they suit my complexion."
+
+I am bound to say that though Mr. Macdougall firmly declined being party
+to this arrangement, which he said would be inartistic, he did so with
+the utmost courtesy. My opinion is, that he thought I was a little
+cracked. Many persons have thought that, but there is no foundation for
+the suspicion.
+
+"You see, Mr. Macdougall", says I, "I am a Plantagenet by descent, and
+one of my ancestors was hanged in the time of George the Second. Do
+those facts suggest anything to you in the way of costume?"
+
+"The first does not", he said, "but the second may. A good many persons
+had the misfortune to be hanged about the time you mention, and for the
+same reason. I suppose your ancestor died for the Stuarts."
+
+"No, sir, he died for a steward. The unfortunate nobleman was most
+iniquitously destroyed for shooting a plebeian of the name of Johnson,
+for which reason I hate everybody of that name, from Ben downwards, and
+will not have a Johnson's _Dictionary_ in my house."
+
+"Then, sir", says Mr. Macdougall, "the case is clear. You can mark your
+sense of the conduct of the sovereign who executed your respected
+relative. You can assume the costume of his chief enemies. You can wear
+the Stuart tartan."
+
+"Hm", says I. "I should look well in it, no doubt; but then I have no
+hostility to the present House of Brunswick."
+
+"Why", says he, laughing; "Her Majesty dresses her own princes in the
+Stuart tartan. I ought to know that."
+
+"Then that's settled", I replied.
+
+Ha! You would indeed have been proud of your contributor, had you seen
+him splendidly arrayed in that gorgeous garb, and treading the heather
+of Inverness High Street like a young mountaineer. He did not look then
+like
+
+  EPICURUS ROTUNDUS.
+
+    _Inverness Castle._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NOTICE TO THE HIGHLANDERS.--Whereas Mr. Punch, through his "Bilious
+Contributor", did on the 7th November, 1863, offer a prize of fifty
+guineas to the best Highland player at Spellikins, in the games for
+1873. And whereas Mr. Punch has had the money, with ten years' interest,
+quite ready, and waiting to be claimed. And whereas no Highland player
+at Spellikins appeared at the games of 1873. This to give notice that
+Mr. Punch has irrevocably confiscated the money to his own sole and
+peculiar use, and intends to use it in bribery at the next general
+election. He begs to remark to the Highlands, in the words of his
+ancestor, Robert Bruce, at Bannockburn--"There is a rose fallen from
+your wreath!"[B]
+
+    PUNCH.
+
+  7th November, 1873.
+
+[Footnote B: Of course the King said nothing so sweetly sentimental.
+What he did say to Earl Randolph was, "Mind your eye, you great stupid
+ass, or you'll have the English spears in your back directly." Nor did
+the Earl reply, "My wreath shall bloom, or life shall fade. Follow, my
+household!" but, with an amazing great curse, "I'll cook 'em. Come on,
+you dawdling beggars, and fulfil the prophecies!" But so history is
+written.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MORE REVENGE FOR FLODDEN.--_Scene: a Scotch Hotel. Tourist (indignant at
+his bill)._ "Why, landlord, there must be some mistake there!"
+_Landlord._ "Mistake? Aye, aye. That stupid fellow, the waiter, has just
+charged you five shillings--too little."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+FROM THE MOORS.--_Sportsman._ "Much rain Donald?" _Donald._ "A bit soft.
+Just wet a' day, wi' showers between."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A PLEASANT PROSPECT!
+
+_English Tourist._ "I say, look here. How far is it to this Glenstarvit?
+They told us it was only----"
+
+_Native._ "Aboot four miles."
+
+_Tourist_ (_aghast_). "All bog like this?"
+
+_Native._ "Eh--h--this is just naethin' till't!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: ANOTHER MISUNDERSTANDING
+
+_'Arry_ (_on a Northern tour, with Cockney pronunciation_). "Then I'll
+'ave a bottle of aile."
+
+_Hostess of the Village Inn._ "_Ile_, sir? We've nane in the hoose, but
+castor ile or paraffin. Wad ony o' them dae, sir?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE WEIRD SISTERS]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: DEER-STALKING MADE EASY
+
+The patent silent motor-crawler.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: ILLUSTRATED QUOTATIONS
+
+(_One so seldom finds an Artist who realises the poetic conception._)
+
+"Is this the noble Moor ...?"--_Othello_, Act IV., Scene 1.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: DRACONIAN
+
+SCENE.--_Police Court, North Highlands._
+
+_Accused._ "Put, Pailie, it's na provit!"
+
+_Bailie._ "Hoot toots, Tonal, and hear me speak! Aw'll only fine ye
+ha'f-a-croon the day, because et's no varra well provit. But if ever ye
+come before me again, ye'll no get aff under five shillin's, whether
+et's provit or no!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF YE ENGLYSHE IN 1849
+
+DEERE STALKYNGE IN YE HYGHLANDES]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: ONE OF THE ADVANTAGES OF SHOOTING FROM A BUTT
+
+_Keeper (on moor rented by the latest South African millionaire, to
+guest)._ "Never mind the birds, sir. For onny sake, lie down! The
+maister's gawn tae shoot!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE TWELFTH
+
+(_Guilderstein in the Highlands_)
+
+_Guild. (His first experience)._ "I've been swindled! That confounded
+agent said it was all drivin' on this moor, and look at it, all hills
+and slosh! Not a decent carriage road within ten miles!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE MATERNAL INSTINCT
+
+_The Master._ "I'm sayin', wumman, ha'e ye gotten the tickets?"
+
+_The Mistress._ "Tuts, haud your tongue aboot tickets. Let me count the
+weans!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "NEMO ME IMPUNE", &c.
+
+_The Irrepressible._ "Hi, Scotty, tip us the 'Ighland fling."
+
+TIPPED!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Return of the wounded and missing Popplewitz omitted to
+send in after his day on the moors.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: RECRIMINATION
+
+_Inhabitant of Uist._ "I say, they'll pe speaking fa-ar petter English
+in Uist than in Styornaway."
+
+_Lass of the Lewis._ "Put in Styornaway they'll not pe caa-in' fush
+'feesh,' whatefer!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE HIGHLAND GAMES AT MACJIGGITY
+
+Whilst staying at MacFoozle Castle, my excellent host insisted that I
+should accompany him to see the Highland games. The MacFoozle himself is
+a typical Hielander, and appeared in a kilt and jelly-bag--philabeg, I
+mean. Suggested to him that I should go, attired in pair of
+bathing-drawers, Norfolk jacket, and Glengarry cap, but he, for some
+inscrutable reason of his own, negatived the idea. Had half a mind to
+dress in kilt myself, but finally decided against the national costume
+as being too draughty. Arrived on ground, and found that "tossing the
+caber" was in full progress. Braw laddies struggled, in turn, with
+enormous tree trunk. The idea of the contest is, that whoever succeeds
+in killing the greatest number of spectators by hurling the tree on to
+them, wins the prize. Fancy these laddies had been hung too long, or
+else they were particularly braw. Moved up to windward of them promptly.
+
+"Who is the truculent-looking villain with red whiskers?" I ask.
+
+"Hush!" says my host, in awed tones. "That is the MacGinger himself!"
+
+I grovel. Not that I have ever even heard his name before, but I don't
+want to show my ignorance before the MacFoozle. The competition of
+pipers was next in order, and I took to my heels and fled. Rejoined
+MacFoozle half an hour later to witness the dancing. On a large raised
+platform sat the judges, with the mighty MacGinger himself at their
+head. Can't quite make out whether the dance is a Reel, a Strathspey, a
+Haggis, or a Skirl--sure it is one or the other. Just as I ask for
+information, amid a confusing whirl of arms and legs and "Hoots!" a
+terrific crack is heard, and the platform, as though protesting at the
+indignities heaped upon it, suddenly gives way, and in a moment,
+dancers, pipers, and judges are hurled in a confused and struggling heap
+to the ground. The MacGinger falls upon some bag-pipes, which emit
+dismal groanings beneath his massive weight. This ends the dancing
+prematurely, and a notice is immediately put up all round the grounds
+that (to take its place) "There will be another competition of
+bag-pipes." I read it, evaded the MacFoozle, and fled.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SONG FOR A SCOTCH DUKE.
+
+  My harts in the Highlands shall have their hills clear,
+  My harts in the Highlands no serf shall come near--
+  I'll chase out the Gael to make room for the roe,
+  My harts in the Highlands were ever his foe.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THINGS NO HIGHLANDER CAN UNDERSTAND.
+
+Breaches of promise.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: GUILDERSTEIN IN THE HIGHLANDS
+
+Guilderstein. "Missed again! And dat fellow, Hoggenheimer, comin'on
+Monday too! Why did I not wire to Leadenhall for an 'aunch, as Betty
+told me!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Juvenis. "Jolly day we had last week at McFoggarty's
+wedding! Capital champagne he gave us, and we did it justice, I can tell
+you--"
+
+Senex (who prefers whiskey). "Eh-h, mun, it's a' verra weel weddings at
+ye-er time o' life. Gie me a gude funeral!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: HEBRIDEAN SPORT
+
+_Shooting Tenant (accounting for very large species of grouse which his
+setter has just flushed)._ "Capercailzie! By George!"
+
+_Under-keeper Neil._ "I'm after thinking, sir, you'll have killed Widow
+McSwan's cochin cock. Ye see the crofters were forced to put him and the
+hens away out here till the oats is ripe!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: LATEST FROM THE MOORS
+
+_Intelligent Foreigner._ "Tell me--zee 'Ilanders, do zay always wear zee
+raw legs?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration]
+
+A GROAN FROM A GILLIE
+
+    Lasses shouldna' gang to shoot,
+                                  Na, na!
+    Gillies canna' help but hoot,
+                                  Ha, ha!
+    Yon douce bodies arena' fittin'
+    Wi' the gudeman's to be pittin',
+    Bide at hame and mind yere knittin'!
+                                  Hoot, awa'!
+    "Wimmen's Rechts" is vara weel,
+                                  Ooh, aye!
+    For hizzies wha've nae hearts to feel;
+                                  Forbye
+    Wimmen's Rechts is aiblins Wrang
+     When nat'ral weak maun ape the strang,
+    An' chaney cups wi' cau'drons gang,
+                                  Auch, fie!
+    Hennies shouldna' try to craw
+                                  Sae fast--
+    Their westlin' thrapples canna' blair
+                                  Sic a blast.
+    Leave to men-folk bogs and ferns,
+    An' pairtricks, muircocks, braes, and cairns;
+    And lasses! ye may mind the bairns--
+                                  That's best!
+
+      TONALT (X) _his mark._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A PRECISIAN
+
+_Artist (affably)._ "Fine morning." _Native._ "No' bad ava'."
+
+_Artist._ "Pretty scenery." _Native._ "Gey an' good."
+
+_Artist (pointing to St. Bannoch's, in the distance)._ "What place is
+that down at the bottom of the loch?"
+
+_Native._ "It's no at the bottom--it's at the fut!"
+
+_Artist (to himself)._ "You past-participled Highlander!"
+
+    [_Drops the subject!_
+]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE THING TO DO IN SCOTLAND
+
+(_More Leaves from the Highland Journal of Toby, M.P._)
+
+_Quiverfield, Haddingtonshire, Monday._--You can't spend twenty-four
+hours at Quiverfield without having borne in upon you the truth that the
+only thing to do in Scotland is to play goff. (On other side of Tweed
+they call it golf. Here we are too much in a hurry to get at the game to
+spend time on unnecessary consonant.) The waters of what Victor Hugo
+called "The First of the Fourth" lave the links at Quiverfield. Blue as
+the Mediterranean they have been in a marvellous autumn, soon to lapse
+into November. We can see the Bass Rock from the eighth hole, and can
+almost hear the whirr of the balls skimming with swallow flight over the
+links at North Berwick.
+
+Prince Arthur here to-day, looking fully ten years younger than when I
+last saw him at Westminster. Plays through live-long day, and drives off
+fourteen miles for dinner at Whittinghame, thinking no more of it than
+if he were crossing Palace Yard. Our host, Waverley Pen, is happy in
+possession of links at his park gates. All his own, for self and
+friends. You step through the shrubbery, and there are the far-reaching
+links; beyond them the gleaming waters of the Forth. Stroll out
+immediately after breakfast to meet the attendant caddies; play goff
+till half-past one; reluctantly break off for luncheon; go back to
+complete the fearsome foursome; have tea brought out to save time; leave
+off in bare time to dress for dinner; talk goff at dinner; arrange
+matches after dinner; and the new morning finds the caddies waiting as
+before.
+
+[Illustration: Fingen's finger.]
+
+Decidedly the only thing to do in Scotland is to play goff.
+
+_Deeside, Aberdeenshire, Wednesday._--Fingen, M.P., once told an abashed
+House of Commons that he "owned a mountain in Scotland." Find, on
+visiting him in his ancestral home, that he owns a whole range. Go up
+one or two of them; that comparatively easy; difficulty presents itself
+when we try to get down. Man and boy, Fingen has lived here fifty years;
+has not yet acquired knowledge necessary to guide a party home after
+ascending one of his mountains. Walking up in cool of afternoon, we
+usually get home sore-footed and hungry about midnight.
+
+"Must be going now", says Fingen, M.P., when we have seen view from top
+of mountain. "Just time to get down before dark. But I know short cut;
+be there in a jiffy. Come along."
+
+We come along. At end of twenty minutes find ourselves in front of
+impassable gorge.
+
+"Ha!" says Fingen, M.P., cheerily. "Must have taken wrong turn; better
+go back and start again."
+
+All very well to say go back; but where were we? Fingen, M.P., knows;
+wets his finger; holds it up.
+
+"Ha!" he says, with increased joyousness of manner; "the wind is blowing
+that way, is it? Then we turn to the left."
+
+Another twenty minutes stumbling through aged heather. Path trends
+downwards.
+
+"That's all right", says Fingen, M.P.; "must lead on to the road."
+
+Instead of which we nearly fall into a bubbling burn. Go back again;
+make bee line up acclivity nearly as steep as side of house; find
+ourselves again on top of mountain.
+
+"How lucky!" shouts Fingen, M.P., beaming with delight.
+
+As if we had been trying all this time to get to top of mountain instead
+of to bottom!
+
+Wants to wet his finger again and try how the wind lies. We protest. Let
+us be saved that at least. Fingen leads off in quite another direction.
+By rocky pathway which threatens sprains; through bushes and brambles
+that tear the clothes; by dangerous leaps from rock to rock he brings us
+to apparently impenetrable hedge. We stare forlorn.
+
+[Illustration: The crack of the whip('s pate!)]
+
+"Ha!" says Fingen, M.P., more aggressively cheerful than ever. "The road
+is on other side. Thought we would come upon it somewhere." Somehow or
+other we crawl through.
+
+"Nothing like having an eye to the lay of country", says Fingen, M.P.,
+as we limp along the road. "It's a sort of instinct, you know. If I
+hadn't been with you, you might have had to camp out all night on the
+mountain."
+
+They don't play goff at Deeside. They bicycle. Down the long avenue with
+spreading elm trees deftly trained to make triumphal arches, the
+bicycles come and go. Whipsroom, M.P., thinks opportunity convenient
+for acquiring the art of cycling. W. is got up with consummate art. Has
+had his trousers cut short at knee in order to display ribbed stockings
+of rainbow hue. Loose tweed-jacket, blood-red necktie, white felt hat
+with rim turned down all round, combine to lend him air of a Drury Lane
+bandit out of work. Determined to learn to ride the bicycle, but spends
+most of the day on his hands and knees, or on his back. Looking down
+avenue at any moment pretty sure to find W. either running into the iron
+fence, coming off sideways, or bolting head first over the handles of
+his bike. Get quite new views of him fore-shortened in all possible
+ways, some that would be impossible to any but a man of his
+determination.
+
+"Never had a man stay in the house", says Fingen, M.P., ruefully, "who
+so cut up the lawn with his head, or indented the gravel with his elbows
+and his knees."
+
+Evidently I was mistaken about goff. Cycling's the thing in Scotland.
+
+_Goasyoucan, Inverness-shire, Saturday._--Wrong again. Not goff nor
+cycling is the thing to do in Scotland. It's stalking. Soon learn that
+great truth at Goasyoucan. The hills that encircle the house densely
+populated with stags. To-day three guns grassed nine, one a royal. This
+the place to spend a happy day, crouching down among the heather
+awaiting the fortuitous moment. Weather no object. Rain or snow out you
+go, submissive to guidance and instruction of keeper; by comparison with
+whose tyranny life of the ancient galley-slave was perfect freedom.
+
+Consummation of human delight this, to lie prone on your face amid the
+wet heather, with the rain pattering down incessantly, or the snow
+pitilessly falling, covering you up flake by flake as if it were a robin
+and you a babe in the wood. Mustn't stir; mustn't speak; if you can
+conveniently dispense with the operation, better not breathe. Sometimes,
+after morning and greater part of afternoon thus cheerfully spent, you
+may get a shot; even a stag. Also you may not; or, having attained the
+first, may miss the latter. At any rate you have spent a day of
+exhilarating delight.
+
+Stalking is evidently the thing to do in Scotland. It's a far cry to the
+Highlands. Happily there is Arthur's Seat by Edinburgh town where
+beginners can practise, and old hands may feign delight of early
+triumphs.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE "IRREPRESSIBLE" AGAIN
+
+_Gent in Knickerbockers._ "Rummy speakers them 'Ighlanders, 'Enery. When
+we wos talking to one of the 'ands, did you notice 'im saying
+'_nozzing_' for '_nothink_,' and '_she_' for '_e_'?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "THE LAST STRAW"
+
+"Tired out, are you? Try a drop of brandy! Eh!--what!--confound----By
+jingo, I've forgotten my flask!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: NOTHING LIKE MOUNTAIN AIR
+
+_Tourist (who has been refreshing himself with the toddy of the
+country)._ "I shay, ole fler! Highlands seem to 'gree with you
+wonerfly--annomishtake. Why, you look DOUBLE the man already!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE HEIGHT OF BLISS
+
+_Highland Shepherd._ "Fine toon, Glasco', I pelieve, and lots o' coot
+meat there."
+
+_Tourist._ "Oh, yes, lots."
+
+_Highland Shepherd._ "An' drink, too?"
+
+_Tourist._ "Oh, yes."
+
+_Highland Shepherd (doubtingly)._ "Ye'll get porter tae yir parrich?"
+
+_Tourist._ "Yes, if we like."
+
+_Highland Shepherd._ "Cra-ci-ous!"
+
+    [_Speechless with admiration._
+
+]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: TENACITY
+
+_First North Briton_ (_on the Oban boat, in a rolling sea and dirty
+weather_). "Thraw it up, man, and ye'll feel a' the better!"
+
+_Second ditto_ (_keeping it down_). "Hech, mon, it's whuskey!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: EXCUSABLE WRATH
+
+_Drover_ (_exhausted with his struggles_). "Whit are ye wouf, woufan'
+there, ye stupit ass! It wud be wis-eer like if ye gang awn hame, an'
+bring a barrow!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A SOFT IMPEACHMENT
+
+_Sporting Saxon (mournfully, after three weeks' incessant down-pour)._
+"Does it always rain like this up here, Mr. McFuskey?"
+
+_His Guide, Philosopher, and Friendly Landlord (calmly)._ "Oo aye, it's
+a-ye just a wee bit shooery."!!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: ANTIQUARIAN RESEARCH
+
+2 A.M.
+
+_Brown (who has taken a shooting-box in the Highlands, and has been
+"celebrating" his first appearance in a kilt)._ "Worsht of these
+ole-fashioned beshteads is, they take such a lot of climbin' into!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: GUILDERSTEIN IN THE HIGHLANDS
+
+_Mrs. G._ "We must leave this horrible place, dear. The keeper has just
+told me there is disease on the moor. Good gracious, the boys might take
+it!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A GREAT DRAWBACK
+
+_Dougal_ (_with all his native contempt for the Londoner_). "Aye, mon,
+an' he's no a bad shot?"
+
+_Davie._ "'Deed an' he's a verra _guid_ shot."
+
+_Dougal._ "Hech! it's an awfu' peetie he's a Londoner!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NOTES FROM THE HIGHLANDS
+
+"_Jam satis terris,_" _&c._
+
+_Alt-na-blashy._--The aqueous and igneous agencies seem to be combined
+in these quarters, for since the rain we hear of a great increase of
+burns. In default of the moors we fall back on the kitchen and the
+cellar. I need hardly add that dry wines are almost exclusively used by
+our party, and moist sugar is generally avoided. Dripping, too, is
+discontinued, and everything that is likely to whet the appetite is at a
+discount.
+
+_Drizzle-arich._--A Frenchman, soaked out of our bothy by the moisture
+of the weather, was overheard to exclaim "_Apres moi le deluge._"
+
+_Inverdreary._--Greatly to the indignation of their chief, several of
+the "Children of the Mist", in this romantic but rainy region, have
+assumed the garb of the Mackintoshes.
+
+_Loch Drunkie._--We have several partners in misery within hail, or life
+would be fairly washed out of us. We make up parties alternately at our
+shooting quarters when the weather allows of wading between them.
+Inebriation, it is to be feared, must be on the increase, for few of us
+who go out to dinner return without making a wet night of it.
+
+Meantime, the watering-places in our vicinity--in particular the Linns
+o' Dun-Dreepie--are literally overflowing.
+
+It is asserted that even young horses are growing impatient of the
+reins.
+
+Our greatest comfort is the weekly budget of dry humour from _Mr.
+Punch_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A DISAPPOINTING HOST.--_Sandy._ "A 'm tellt ye hev a new nebbur,
+Donal'." _Donald._ "Aye." _Sandy._ "An' what like is he?" _Donald._
+"Weel, he's a curious laddie. A went to hev a bit talk wi' him th' ither
+evenin', an' he offered me a glass o' whuskey, d'ye see? Weel, he was
+poorin' it oot, an' A said to him 'Stop!'--_an' he stoppit!_ That's the
+soort o' mon he is."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: AMBIGUITY
+
+SCENE--_A Highland Ferry_
+
+_Tourist._ "But we paid you sixpence each as we came over, and you said
+the same fare would bring us back."
+
+_Skipper._ "Well, well, and I telled ye nothing but the truth, an' it'll
+be no more than the same fare I'm wantin' the noo for bringin' ye
+back."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: AUGUST IN SCOTLAND
+
+_Bag Carrier (to Keeper)._ "What does the maister aye ask that body tae
+shoot wi' him for? He canna hit a thing!"
+
+_Keeper._ "Dod, man, I daur say he wishes they was a' like him. The same
+birds does him a' through the season!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+KINREEN O' THE DEE;
+
+A PIOBRACH HEARD WAILING DOWN GLENTANNER ON THE EXILE OF THREE
+GENERATIONS.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+              Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee!
+                Kinreen o' the Dee!
+                Kinreen o' the Dee!
+              Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee!
+
+              I'll blaw up my chanter,
+                I've rounded fu' weel,
+              To mony a ranter,
+                In mony a reel,
+              An' pour'd a' my heart i' the win'bag wi' glee:
+                Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee!
+    For licht wis the laughter in bonny Kinreen,
+    An' licht wis the footfa' that glanced o'er the green,
+    An' licht ware the hearts a' an' lichtsome the eyne,
+              Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee!
+                Kinreen o' the Dee!
+                Kinreen o' the Dee!
+              Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee!
+
+              The auld hoose is bare noo,
+                A cauld hoose to me,
+              The hearth is nae mair noo,
+                The centre o' glee,
+    Nae mair for the bairnies the bield it has been,
+              Och hey, for bonny Kinreen!
+    The auld folk, the young folk, the wee anes, an' a',
+    A hunder years' hame birds are harried awa',
+    Are harried an' hameless, whatever winds blaw,
+              Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee! &c.
+
+              Fareweel my auld pleugh lan',
+                I'll never mair pleugh it:
+              Fareweel my auld cairt an'
+                The auld yaud[C] that drew it.
+    Fareweel my auld kailyard, ilk bush an' ilk tree!
+              Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee!
+    Fareweel the auld braes, that my hand keepit green,
+    Fareweel the auld ways where we waunder'd unseen
+    Ere the star o' my hearth came to bonny Kinreen,
+              Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee! &c.
+
+              The auld kirk looks up o'er
+                The dreesome auld dead,
+              Like a saint speakin' hope o'er
+                Some sorrowfu' bed.
+    Fareweel the auld kirk, an' fareweel the kirk green,
+    They tell o' a far better hame than Kinreen!
+    The place we wad cling to--puir simple auld fules,
+    O' our births an' our bridals, oor blesses an' dools,
+    Whare oor wee bits o' bairnies lie cauld i' the mools.[D]
+              Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee! &c.
+
+              I aft times hae wunder'd
+                If deer be as dear,
+              As sweet ties o' kindred,
+                To peasant or peer;
+    As the tie to the hames o' the land born be,
+                Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee!
+    The heather that blossoms unkent o' the moor,
+    Wad dee in his lordship's best greenhoose, I'm sure,
+    To the wunder o' mony a fairy land flure.
+                Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee! &c.
+
+                Though little the thing be,
+                  Oor ain we can ca';
+                That little we cling be,
+                  The mair that it's sma';
+    Though puir wis oor hame, an' thogh wild wis the scene,
+    'Twas the hame o' oor hearts: it was bonnie Kinreen.
+    An yet we maun leave it, baith grey head an bairn;
+    Leave it to fatten the deer o' Cock-Cairn,
+    O' Pannanich wuds an' o' Morven o' Gairn.
+                Och hey, Kinreen o' the Dee!
+                  Kinreen o' the Dee!
+                  Kinreen o' the Dee!
+        Sae Fareweel for ever, Kinreen of the Dee!
+
+[Footnote C: Mare.]
+
+[Footnote D: Earth.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: CANNY!
+
+_Sportsman._ "That's a tough old fellow, Jemmy!"
+
+_Keeper._ "Aye, sir, a grand bird to send to your freens!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: EXPERTO CREDE
+
+_Tourist_ (_on approaching hostelry_). "What will you have, coachman?"
+
+_Driver._ "A wee drap whuskey, sir, thank you."
+
+_Tourist._ "All right I'll get down and send it out to you."
+
+_Driver._ "Na, na, gie me the saxpence. They'll gie you an unco sma'
+gless!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A LAMENT FROM THE NORTH
+
+"And then the weather's been so bad, Donald!"
+
+"Ou ay, sir. Only three fine days--and twa of them snappit up by the
+Sawbath!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TWO ON A TOUR
+
+"Can you tell me which is Croft Lochay?"
+
+The smith leant on his pitchfork--he had been up at the hay--and eyed
+Gwendolen and myself with friendly interest.
+
+"Ye'll be the gentry from London Mistress McDiarmat is expectin'?"
+
+"And which is the way to her house?"
+
+"Well", said the smith, shading his eyes as he peered up at the Ben, "ye
+can't see it rightly from here, as it lies behind yon knowe. It's a
+whole year whatever since I hev not been up myself; but if you follow
+the burn----"
+
+I glanced at Gwen and saw that she shared my satisfaction. To cross the
+edge of civilisation had for months past been our hearts' desire; and to
+have achieved a jumping-off place only approachable by a burn exceeded
+our wildest ambitions.
+
+We thanked the smith, and set off on our expedition up the mountain
+side.
+
+"We twa hae paidlit in the burn", sang Gwendolen as she skipped like a
+goat from stone to stone. "O Jack, isn't it too primitive and
+delightful!"
+
+"Rather", said I, inhaling great draughts of the mountain air.
+
+"Aren't you hungry?"
+
+"Rather", I repeated. "Wonder what there'll be to eat."
+
+"Oh, I don't care what it is. Anything will be delicious. Is that the
+house, do you think?"
+
+I looked up and saw above us a low white-washed shanty covered with
+thatch which was kept in its place by a network of laths. A few heavy
+stones were evidently designed to keep the roof from blowing off in
+winter storms.
+
+"No", said Gwen. "That must be the cowhouse byre, don't you call it?"
+
+"I'm not so sure", said I.
+
+While we were still uncertain, a figure came to the door and bade us
+welcome.
+
+"Come in, come in. Ye'll be tired with the travelling, and ye'll like to
+see the rooms."
+
+We acquiesced, and Mistress McDiarmat led the way into the cowhouse.
+
+"Shoo!" she cried as she opened the door of the bedroom. "Get away,
+Speckle! The hens _will_ lay their bit egg on the bed, sir."
+
+"What fresh eggs we shall get!" cried Gwen, delighted with this fresh
+proof of rusticity and with the Gaelic gutturals with which Mistress
+McDiarmat emphasized her remarks to Speckle.
+
+The "other end" was furnished with two hard chairs, a table and a bed.
+
+"Fancy a bed in the dining-room and hens in your bed!" said Gwen, in the
+highest of spirits. "And here comes tea! Eggs and bacon--Ah! how lovely
+they smell, and how much nicer than horrid, stodgy dinners! And
+oatcakes--and jelly--and the lightest feathery scones! O Jack, isn't it
+heavenly?"
+
+"Rather", I agreed, beginning the meal with tremendous gusto. The eggs
+and bacon disappeared in the twinkling of an eye, and then we fell to on
+the light feathery scones. "Wish we hadn't wasted a fortnight's time
+and money in ruinous Highland hotels. Wonder what Schiehallion thinks of
+hot baths and late dinners, not to speak of waiters and wine-lists."
+
+"I suppose", remarked Gwendolen, "one _could_ get a bath at the
+Temperance Inn we passed on the road?"
+
+"Baths!" cried I. "Why, my dear, one only has to go and sit under the
+neighbouring waterfall." Gwen did not laugh, and looking up I saw she
+had stopped in the middle of a scone on which she had embarked with
+great appetite.
+
+"Try an oat-cake", I suggested.
+
+"No, thanks", said Gwen.
+
+"A little more jelly?"
+
+Gwen shook her head.
+
+I finished my meal in silence and pulled out my pipe.
+
+"Going to smoke in here?" asked Gwen.
+
+"It's raining outside, my dear."
+
+"Oh, very well. But remember this is my bedroom. I decline to sleep with
+hens."
+
+I put the pipe away and prepared for conversation.
+
+"Can't you sit still?" asked Gwen after a long pause.
+
+"This chair is very hard, dear."
+
+"So is mine."
+
+"Don't you think we might sit on the bed?"
+
+"Certainly not. I shouldn't sleep a wink if we disarranged the clothes,
+and only an expert can re-make a chaff bed."
+
+"Wish we had something to read", I remarked, after another long pause.
+
+"Do you expect a circulating library on the top of Ben-y-Gloe?"
+
+I began to realise that Gwen was no longer in a conversational mood, and
+made no further efforts to break the silence. Half-an-hour later Gwen
+came across the room and laid her hand on my shoulder. "What are you
+reading, dear?" she asked.
+
+"I find we can get a train from Struan to-morrow afternoon which catches
+the London connection at Perth when the train's not more than two hours
+late."
+
+"We can't risk that. Isn't there a train in the morning?"
+
+"It would mean leaving this at five."
+
+"So much the better. O Jack, if I eat another meal like that it will be
+fatal. To think we shall be back in dear old Chelsea to-morrow!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: ORIGIN OF THE HIGHLAND SCHOTTISCHE
+
+  "This is the way they tread the hay, tread the hay, tread the hay;
+      This is the way they tread the hay, tread the hay in Scotland!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: GROUSE SHOOTING LATE IN THE SEASON.
+JOLLY, VERY!
+
+"Come along, old fellow! Here's a point!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: DEER-STALKING MADE EASY. A HINT TO
+LUSTY SPORTSMEN]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: SOONER OR LATER
+
+_Old Gent._ "When is the steamer due here?"
+
+_Highland Pier-Master._ "Various. Sometimes sooner,
+sometimes earlier, an' even sometimes before that, too."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "HARMLESS"
+
+_Cockney Sporting Gent._ "But I think it's a 'en!"
+
+_Sandy (his keeper)._ "Shoot, man, shoot! She'll be no
+muckle the waur o' ye!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: PLEASANT
+
+_Friend (to novice at salmon fishing)._ "I say, old boy, mind how you
+wade; there are some tremendous holes, fourteen or fifteen feet deep."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration:AN IMPORTANT DETAIL
+
+_Our latest Millionaire_ (_to Gillie, who has brought him within
+close range of the finest stag in the forest_). "I say, Mac, confound
+it all, _which eye do you use_?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _English Tourist (in the far North, miles from anywhere)._
+"Do you mean to say that you and your family live here
+all the winter? Why, what do you do when any of you
+are ill? You can never get a doctor!"
+
+_Scotch Shepherd._ "Nae, sir. We've just to dee a natural
+death!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: SCENE--A ROADSIDE INN IN A MOORLAND
+DISTRICT, SCOTLAND
+
+(_The Captain and Gamekeeper call in to have some Refreshment_)
+
+_Landlady_ (_enters in fear_). "Eh, sir, yer gun's no loaded
+is't? for a never would bide in a hoose whaur the wur a
+loaded gun in a' m'life."
+
+_Captain_ (_composedly_). "Oh, we'll soon put that all right--have
+you got a cork?"
+
+  [_Exit Landlady and brings a cork, which the Captain
+  carefully sticks in the muzzle of the gun, and assures
+  her it is all right now_--
+
+
+_Landlady_ (_relieved_). "Ou, aye! it's a' right noo, but it
+wasna safe afore, ye ken."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "A MONARCH OF THE GLEN"
+
+_Transatlantic Millionaire (surveying one of his deer-forests)._
+"Ha! look there! I see _three excursionists_! Send 'em to
+the----!"
+
+_Gigantic Gillie (and chucker-out)._ "If you please, Mr.
+Dollers, they're _excisemen_!"
+
+_T. M._ "I don't care _who_ they are! Send 'em to
+the----!"
+
+_G. G._ "Yes, Mr. Dollers."
+
+    [_Proceeds to carry out order._
+
+]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Sportsman (who declines to be told where to go and
+what to do by his gillie), after an arduous stalk in the
+blazing sun, at last manages to crawl within close range of
+those "brown specks" he discovered miles distant on the
+hill-side!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: PROMISING!
+
+_Tourist._ "Have you any decent cigars?"
+
+_Highland Grocer._ "Decent cigars? Ay, here are decent
+cigars enough."
+
+_Tourist._ "Are they Havanahs, or Manillas?"
+
+_Highland Grocer._ "They're just from Kircaldy!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "THE MISS"
+
+_Gillie._ "Eh, mon! But it's fortunate there's beef in Aberdeen!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. BRIGGS IN THE HIGHLANDS
+
+_By_ JOHN LEECH
+
+[Illustration: Mr. Briggs, feeling that his heart is in the Highlands
+a-chasing the deer, starts for the North.]
+
+[Illustration: Before going out, Mr. Briggs and his friends have a
+quiet chat about deer-stalking generally. He listens with much
+interest to some pleasing anecdotes about the little incidents
+frequently met with--such as balls going through caps--toes being shot
+off!--occasionally being gored by the antlers of infuriate stags, &c.,
+&c., &c.]
+
+[Illustration: Mr. Briggs, previous to going through his course of
+deer-stalking, assists the forester in getting a hart or two for the
+house. Donald is requesting our friend to hold the animal down by the
+horns.
+
+    [N.B. The said animal is as strong as a bull, and uses his legs like
+a race-horse.
+
+]
+
+[Illustration: The deer are driven for Mr. Briggs. He has an excellent
+place, but what with waiting by himself so long, the murmur of the
+stream, the beauty of the scene, and the novelty of the situation, he
+falls asleep, and while he takes his forty winks, the deer pass!]
+
+[Illustration: As the wind is favourable, the deer are driven again.]
+
+[Illustration: Mr. Briggs is suddenly face to face with the monarch of
+the glen! He is so astonished that he omits to fire his rifle.]
+
+[Illustration: To-day he goes out for a stalk, and Donald shows Mr.
+Briggs the way!]
+
+[Illustration: After a good deal of climbing, our friend gets to the top
+of Ben-something-or-other, and the forester looks out to see if there
+are any deer on the hills. Yes! several hinds, and perhaps the finest
+hart that ever was seen.]
+
+[Illustration: To get at him, they are obliged to go a long way round.
+Before they get down, the shower, peculiar to the country, overtakes
+them, so they "shelter a-wee."]
+
+[Illustration: With extraordinary perseverance they come within shot of
+"the finest hart." Mr. B. is out of breath, afraid of slipping, and
+wants to blow his nose (quite out of the question), otherwise he is
+tolerably comfortable.]
+
+[Illustration: After aiming for a quarter of an hour, Mr. B. fires both
+his barrels--and--misses!!!! _Tableau_--The forester's anguish]
+
+[Illustration: The royal hart Mr. Briggs did NOT hit.]
+
+[Illustration: Mr. Briggs has another day's stalking, and his rifle
+having gone off sooner than he expected, he kills a stag. As it is his
+first, he is made free of the forest by the process customary on the
+hills!--]
+
+[Illustration: And returns home in triumph. He is a little knocked up,
+but after a nap, will, no doubt, go through the broad-sword dance in the
+evening as usual.]
+
+[Illustration: MR. BRIGGS GROUSE SHOOTING
+
+9 A.M. His arrival on the moor.--Mr. Briggs says that the fine bracing
+air makes him so vigorous that he shall never be beat. He also
+facetiously remarks that he is on "his native heath", and that his "name
+is Macgregor!"
+
+    [_The result of the day's sport will be communicated by electric
+    telegraph._
+
+]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SKETCHES FROM SCOTLAND
+
+AT THE DRUMQUHIDDER HIGHLAND GATHERING.
+
+    SCENE--_A meadow near Drumquhidder, South Perthshire, where the
+    annual Highland Games are being held. The programme being a long
+    one, there are generally three events being contested in various
+    parts of the ground at the same time. On the benches immediately
+    below the Grand Stand are seated two Drumquhidder worthies_, MR.
+    PARRITCH _and_ MR. HAVERS, _with_ MRS. McTAVISH _and her niece, two
+    acquaintances from Glasgow, to whom they are endeavouring--not
+    altogether successfully--to make themselves agreeable_.
+
+_Mr. Havers_ (_in allusion to the dozen or so of drags, landaus, and
+waggonettes on the ground_). There's a number o' machines hier the day,
+Messis McTarvish, an' a wonderfu' crood; there'll be a bit scarceness
+ower on yon side, but a gey many a'thegither. I conseeder we're jest
+awfu' forrtunate in the day an' a'.
+
+    [_Mrs. McTavish assents, but without enthusiasm._
+
+_Mr. Parritch._ I've jist ben keekin into the Refraishmen' Tent. It's an
+awfu' peety they're no pairmeetin' ony intoaxicans--naethin' but
+non-alcohoalic liquors an' sic like, an' the hawm-sawndwiches no verra
+tender. (_With gallantry._) What do ye say, noo, Messis McTarvish--wull
+ye no come an' tak' a bite wi' me?
+
+_Mrs. McTavish (distantly)._ Ah'm no feelin' able for't jist the noo,
+Mester Pairritch.
+
+_Mr. Parr._ Ye'll hae a boatle o' leemonade at my expense? Ye'll no?
+Then ye wull, Mess Rawse. (_With relief, as Miss Rose declines also._)
+Aweel, I jist thocht I'd pit the quaistion. (_To a friend of his, who
+joins them._) An' hoo's a' wi' ye, Mester McKerrow? Ye're a member o'
+the Cawmittee, I obsairve, sae I'll hae to keck up a bet row wi' ye.
+
+_Mr. McKerrow (unconcernedly)._ Then ye'll jist to hae to keck it doon
+again. What's wrang the noo?
+
+_Mr. Parr._ I'd like to ask ye if ye conseeder it fair or jest to
+charrge us tippence every time we'd go aff the groon? Man, it's jist an
+extoartion.
+
+_Mr. McKerr._ I'm no responsible for't; but, if I'd ben there, I'd ha'
+chairged ye twa shellins; sae ye'd better say nae mair aboot the
+maitter.
+
+    [_Mr. Parritch does not pursue the subject._
+
+_Mr. Havers (as a detachment of the Black Watch Highlanders conclude an
+exhibition of musical drill)._ Ye'll be the baiter o' haeing the Block
+Wetch hier the day. Man, they gie us a colour! It's verra pretty hoo
+nicely they can pairforrm the drill.... An' noo them sojers is gaun to
+rin a bet race amang theirsels. This'll be an extry cawmpeteetion, I
+doot. (_As the race is being run._) It's no a verra suitable dress for
+rinnin'--the spleughan--or "sporran", is it?--hairrts them tairible.
+
+_Mr. McKerr. (contradictiously)._ The sporran does na hairrt them at a'.
+
+_Mr. Havers._ Man, it's knockin' against them at every stride they tak'.
+(_His attention wanders to a Highland Fling, which three small boys are
+dancing on a platform opposite._) He's an awfu' bonnie dauncer that wee
+laddie i' the meddle!
+
+_Mr. McKerr._ Na sae awfu' bonnie, he luiks tae much at his taes. Yon on
+the richt is the laddie o' the lote! He disna move his boady at a'....
+This'll be the Half Mile Handicap they're stairting for down yonder.
+It'll gae to Jock Alister--him in the blue breeks.
+
+_Mr. Parr._ Yon grup-luikin' tyke? I canna thenk it.
+
+_Mr. Havers._ Na, it'll be yon bald-heided man in broon. He's verra
+enthusiastic. He's ben rinnin' in a' the races, I obsairve. "Smeth" did
+ye say his neem was? (_To Miss Rose, "pawkily"._) Ye'll hae an
+affaictionate regaird for that neem, I'm thenking, Mess Rawse?
+
+_Miss Rose (with maidenly displeasure)._ 'Deed, an I'm no unnerstanding
+why ye should thenk ony sic a thing!
+
+_Mr. Havers (abashed)._ I beg your pairrdon. I don't know hoo it was I
+gethered Smeth was your ain neem. (_Miss Rose shakes her head._) No?
+Then maybe ye'll be acquaint with a Mester Alexawnder Smeth fro'
+Paisley? (_Miss Rose is not, nor apparently desires to be, and Mr.
+Havers returns to the foot-race._) The baldheid's leadin' them a', I
+tellt ye he'd----Na, he's gien up! it'll be the little block fellow,
+he's peckin' up tairible!
+
+_Mr. Parr._ 'Twull no be him. Yon lang chap has an easy jobe o't. Ye'll
+see he'll jist putt a spairrt on at yon faur poast--he's comin' on
+noo--he's.... Losh! he's only thirrd after a'; he didna putt the spairrt
+on sune eneugh; that was the gran' fau't he made!
+
+_Mr. Havers._ They'll be begenning the wrustling oot yon in the
+centre....(_As the competitors grip._) Losh! that's no the way to
+wrustle; they shouldna left the ither up; they're no allowed to threp!
+
+_Mr. McKerr._ That's jist the game, I'm telling ye; ye know naething at
+a' aboot it!
+
+[Illustration: "That's jist the game, I'm telling ye; ye know naething
+at a' aboot it!"]
+
+_Mr. Havers._ I'd sthruggle baiter'n that mysel', it's no great
+wrustling at a', merely bairrns' play!
+
+_Mr. McKerr (as a corpulent elderly gentleman appears, in very pink
+tights)._ Ye'll see some science noo, for hier's McBannock o'
+Balwhuskie, the chawmpion.
+
+_Mr. Havers (disenchanted)._ Wull yon be him in the penk breeks. Man,
+but he's awfu' stoot for sic wark!
+
+_Mr. McKerr._ The wecht of him's no easy put doon. The rest are boys to
+him.
+
+_Mr. Parr._ I doot the little dairk fellow'll hae him ... it's a gey
+sthruggle.
+
+_Mr. McKerr._ He's not doon yet. Wull ye bait sexpence against
+McBannock, Mester Pairritch?
+
+_Mr. Parr. (promptly)._ Aye, wull I--na, he's got the dairk mon doon. I
+was jist mindin' the sword-daunce, sae the bait's aff. (_Three men in
+full Highland costume step upon the platform and stand, proud and
+impassive, fronting the grand stand, while the judges walk round them,
+making careful notes of their respective points._) What wull _they_ be
+aboot?
+
+_Mr. McKerr._ It'll be the prize for the mon who's the best dressed
+Hielander at his ain expense. I'm thenkin' they'll find it no verra easy
+to come to a deceesion.
+
+_Mr. Parr._ Deed, it's no sae deeficult; 'twill be the mon in the
+centre, sure as deith!
+
+_Mr. Havers._ Ye say that because he has a' them gowd maidles hing on
+his jocket!
+
+_Mr. Parr_. (_loftily_). I pay no attention to the maidles at a'. I'm
+sayin' that Dougal Macrae is the best dressed Hielander o' the three.
+
+_Mr. Havers._ It'll no be Macrae at a'. Jock McEwan, that's furthest
+west, 'll be the mon.
+
+_Mr. Parr._ (_dogmatically_). It'll be Macrae, I'm tellin' ye. He has
+the nicest kelt on him that iver I sa'!
+
+_Mr. Havers._ It's no the _kelt_ that diz it, 'tis jist the way they pit
+it on. An' Macrae'll hae his tae faur doon, a guid twa enches too low,
+it is.
+
+_Mr. Parr._ Ye're a' wrang, the kelt is on richt eneugh!
+
+_Mr. Havers._ I know fine hoo a kelt should be pit an, though I'm no
+Hielander mysel', and I'll ask ye, Mess Rawse, if Dougal Macrae's kelt
+isn't too lang; it's jist losin his knees a' thegither, like a lassie he
+looks in it!
+
+    [_Miss Rose declines, with some stiffness, to express an opinion on
+    so delicate a point._
+
+_Mr. Parr. (recklessly)._ I'll pit a sexpence on Macrae wi' ye, come
+noo!
+
+_Mr. Havers._ Na, na, pit cawmpetent jedges on to deceede, and they'll
+be o' my opeenion; but I'll no bait wi' ye.
+
+_Mr. Parr. (his blood up)._ Then I'll hae a sexpence on 't wi you,
+Mester McKerrow!
+
+_Mr. McKerr._ Nay, I'm for Macrae mysel'.... An' we're baith in the
+richt o't too, for they've jist gien him the bit red flag--that means
+he's got firsst prize.
+
+_Mr. Parr. (to Mr. Havers, with reproach)._ Man, if ye'd hed the speerit
+o' your opeenions, I'd ha' won sexpence aff ye by noo!
+
+_Mr. Havers (obstinately)._ I canna thenk but that Macrae's kelt was too
+lang--prize or no prize. I'll be telling him when I see him that he
+looked like a lassie in it.
+
+_Mr. Parr. (with concern)._ I wouldna jist advise ye to say ony sic a
+thing to him. These Hielanders are awfu' prood; and he micht tak' it gey
+ill fro' ye!
+
+_Mr. Havers._ I see nae hairrm mysel' in jist tellin' him, in a
+pleesant, daffin-like way, that he looked like a lassie in his kelt. But
+there's nae tellin' hoo ye may offend some fowk; an' I'm thenking it's
+no sae verra prawbable that I'll hae the oaportunity o' saying onything
+aboot the maitter to him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+AWKWARD FOR HIM.--_Tam._ "I'm sayin', man, my cairt o' hay's fa'en ower.
+Will ye gie 's a haund up wi' 't?" _Jock._ "'Deed will I. But ye'll be
+in nae hurry till I get tae the end o' the raw?" _Tam._ "Ou no. I'm in
+nae hurry, but I doot my faither 'll be wearyin'." _Jock._ "An' whaur's
+yer faither?" _Tam._ "He's in below the hay!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "MISTAKEN IDENTITY"
+
+SCENE--_Northern Meeting at Inverness._ PERSONS REPRESENTED--Ian Gorm
+_and_ Dougald Mohr, _gillies_. Mr. Smith, _of London_.
+
+_First Gillie._ "Wull yon be the MacWhannel, Ian Gorm?"
+
+_Second ditto._ "No!! Hes nae-um is Muster Smuth! And he ahl-ways wears
+the kult--and it is foohl that you aar, Tougalt Mohr!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: (LOCH) FYNE GRAMMAR
+
+(_A Sad Fact for the School Board_)
+
+_Tugal._ "Dud ye'll ever see the _I-oo-na_ any more before?"
+
+_Tonal._ "Surely I was."
+
+_Tugal._ "Ay, ay! Maybe you was never on poard too, after thus----"
+
+_Tonal._ "I dud."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: NON BEN (LOMOND) TROVATO.
+
+_Rory (fresh from the hills)._ "Hech, mon! Ye're loassin' a' yer
+watter!!"
+
+_Aungus._ "Haud yer tongue, ye feul! Ett's latt oot to stoap the laddies
+frae ridin' ahint!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "NOTHING LIKE LEATHER"
+
+_Bookseller_ (_to Lanarkshire country gentleman who had brought his back
+numbers to be bound_). "Would you like them done in 'Russia' or
+'Morocco,' sir?"
+
+_Old Gentleman._ "Na, never maind aboot Rooshy or Moroccy. I'll just hae
+'em boond in Glasgy here!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE TROUBLES OF STALKING
+
+_Irate Gillie_ (_on discovering in the distance, for the third time that
+morning, a "brute of a man" moving about in his favourite bit of
+"forest"_). "Oh! deil take the people! Come awa', Muster Brown, sir;
+_it's just Peekadilly!!!_"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A FALLEN ASS
+
+_Indignant Gillie_ (_to Jones, of London, who has by mistake killed a
+hind_). "I thoucht ony fule ken't it was the stags that had the horns!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: BONCHIENIE
+
+_Young Lady Tourist_ (_caressing the hotel terrier, Bareglourie, N.B._).
+"Oh, Binkie is his name! He seems inclined to be quite friendly with
+me."
+
+_Waiter._ "Oo, aye, miss, he's no vera parteec'lar wha he taks oop wi!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "CANNY"
+
+_First North Briton._ "'T's a fine day, this?"
+
+_Second ditto._ "No ill, ava."
+
+_First ditto._ "Ye'll be travellin'?"
+
+_Second ditto._ "Weel, maybe I'm no."
+
+_First ditto._ "Gaun t'Aberdeen, maybe?"
+
+_Second ditto._ "Ye're no faur aff't!!"
+
+    [_Mutually satisfied, each goes his respective way_
+
+]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE PURCHASING LIMIT
+
+_Mr. Steinsen_ (_our latest millionaire--after his third fruitless
+stalk_). "Now, look here, you rascal! if you can't have the brutes
+tamer, I'm hanged if I don't sack you!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: GROWING POPULARITY OF THE HIGHLANDS
+
+_Mrs. Smith_ (_of Brixton_). "Lor', Mr. Brown, I 'ardly knoo yer! Only
+think of our meetin' _'ere_, this year, instead of dear old Margit! An'
+I suppose that's the costume you go _salmon-stalking_ in?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MORE SKETCHES FROM SCOTLAND
+
+ON A CALLANDER CHAR-A-BANC.
+
+     SCENE--_In front of the Trossachs Hotel. The few passengers bound
+     for Callander have been sitting for several minutes on the coach
+     "Fitz-James" in pelting rain, resignedly wondering when the driver
+     will consider them sufficiently wet to start._
+
+_The Head Boots (to the driver)._ There's another to come yet; he'll no
+be lang now. (_The cause of the delay comes down the hotel steps, and
+surveys the vehicle and its occupants with a surly scowl._) Up with ye,
+sir, plenty of room on the second seats.
+
+_The Surly Passenger._ And have all the umbrellas behind dripping on my
+hat! No, thank you, I'm going in front. (_He mounts, and takes up the
+apron._) Here, driver, just look at this apron--it's sopping wet!
+
+_The Driver (tranquilly)._ Aye, I'm thinking it wull ha' got a bet
+domp.
+
+[Illustration: "Ou aye, ye can get inside the boot if ye've a mind to
+it."]
+
+_The Surly P._ Well, I'm not going to have this over me. Haven't you got
+a _dry_ one somewhere?
+
+_The Driver._ There'll be dry ones at Collander.
+
+_The Surly P. (with a snort)._ At Callander! Much good that is! (_With
+crushing sarcasm._) If I'm to keep dry on this concern, it strikes me
+I'd better get inside the boot at once!
+
+_The Driver (with the air of a man who is making a concession)._ Ou aye,
+ye can get inside the boot if ye've a mind to it.
+
+    [_The coach starts, and is presently stopped at a corner to take up
+    a male and a female passenger, who occupy the seats immediately
+    behind the Surly Passenger._
+
+_The Female P. (enthusiastically, to her companion)._ There's dear old
+Mrs. Macfarlane, come out to see the last of us! Look at her standing
+out there in the garden, all in the rain. That's what I always say about
+the Scotch--they _are_ warm-hearted!
+
+    [_She waves her hand in farewell to some distant object._
+
+_Her Companion. That_ ain't her; that's an old apple-tree in the garden
+_you_'re waving to. _She's_ keeping indoors--and shows her sense too.
+
+_The Female P. (disgusted)._ Well, I _do_ think after our being at the
+farm a fortnight and all, she _might_----But that's Scotch all _over_,
+that is; get all they can out of you, and then, for anything _they_
+care----!
+
+_The Surly P._ I don't know whether you are aware of it, ma'am, but that
+umbrella of yours is sending a constant trickle down the back of my
+neck, which is _most_ unpleasant!
+
+_The Female P._ I'm sorry to hear it, sir, but it's no worse for you
+than it is for me. I've got somebody else's umbrella dripping down _my_
+back, and _I_ don't complain.
+
+_The Surly P._ I _do_, ma'am, for, being in front, I haven't even the
+poor consolation of feeling that my umbrella is a nuisance to anybody.
+
+_A Sardonic P. (in the rear, politely)._ On the contrary, sir, I find it
+a most pleasing object to contemplate. Far more picturesque, I don't
+doubt, than any scenery it may happen to conceal.
+
+_A Chatty P. (to the driver; not because he cares, but simply for the
+sake of conversation)._ What fish do you catch in that river there?
+
+_The Driver (with an effort)._ There'll be troots, an', maybe, a pairrch
+or two.
+
+_The Chatty P._ Perch? Ah, that's rather like a goldfish in shape, eh?
+
+_Driver (cautiously)._ Aye, it would be that.
+
+_Chatty P._ Only considerably bigger, of course.
+
+_Driver (evasively)._ Pairrch is no a verra beg fesh.
+
+_Chatty P._ But bigger than goldfish.
+
+_Driver (more confidently)._ Ou aye, they'll be begger than goldfesh.
+
+_Chatty P. (persistently)._ You've seen goldfish--know what they're
+like, eh?
+
+_Driver (placidly)._ I canna say I do.
+
+    [_They pass a shooting party with beaters._
+
+_Chatty P. (as before)._ What are they going to shoot?
+
+_Driver._ They'll jist be going up to the hells for a bet grouse
+drivin'.
+
+_A Lady P._ I wonder why they carry those poles with the red and yellow
+flags. I suppose they're to warn tourists to keep out of range when they
+begin firing at the butts. I know they _have_ butts up on the moor,
+because I've seen them. Just look at those birds running after that man
+throwing grain for them. Would those be _grouse_?
+
+_Driver._ Ye'll no find grouse so tame as that, mem; they'll jist be
+phaysants.
+
+_The Lady P._ Poor dear things! why, they're as tame as chickens. It
+_does_ seem so cruel to kill them!
+
+_Her Comp._ Well, but they kill chickens, occasionally.
+
+_The Lady P._ Not with a horrid gun; and, besides, that's such a totally
+different thing.
+
+_The Chatty P._ What do you call that mountain, driver, eh?
+
+_Driver._ Yon hell? I'm no minding its name.
+
+_The Surly P._ You don't seem very ready in pointing out the objects of
+interests on the route, I must say.
+
+_Driver (modestly)._ There'll be them on the corch that know as much
+aboot it as myself. (_After a pause--to vindicate his character as a
+cicerone._) Did ye nottice a bit building at the end of the loch over
+yonder?
+
+_The Surly P._ No, I didn't.
+
+_Driver._ Ye might ha' seen it, had ye looked.
+
+    [_He relapses into a contented silence._
+
+_Chatty P._ Anything remarkable about the building?
+
+_Driver._ It was no the building that's remairkable. (_After a severe
+struggle with his own reticence._) It was jist the spoat. 'Twas there
+_Roderick Dhu_ fought _Fitz-James_ after convoying him that far on his
+way.
+
+    [_The Surly Passenger snorts as though he didn't consider this
+    information._
+
+_The Lady P. (who doesn't seem to be up in her "Lady of the Lake").
+Fitz-James who?_
+
+_Her Comp._ I fancy he's the man who owns this line of coaches. There's
+his name on the side of this one.
+
+_The Lady P._ And I saw _Roderick Dhu's_ on another coach. I _thought_
+it sounded familiar, somehow. He must be the _rival_ proprietor, I
+suppose. I wonder if they've made it up yet.
+
+_The Driver (to the Surly Passenger, with another outburst of
+communicativeness)._ Yon stoan is called "Sawmson's Putting Stoan." He
+hurrled it up to the tope of the hell, whaur it's bided ever sence.
+
+    [_The Surly Passenger receives this information with an incredulous
+    grunt._
+
+_The Lady P._ What a magnificent old ruin that is across the valley,
+some ancient castle, evidently; they can't build like that nowadays!
+
+_The Driver._ That's the Collander Hydropawthec, mem; burrnt doon two or
+three years back.
+
+_The Lady P. (with a sense of the irony of events)._ _Burnt_ down! A
+Hydropathic! Fancy!
+
+_Male P. (as they enter Callander and pass a trim villa)._ There,
+_that's_ Mr. Figgis's place.
+
+_His Comp._ What--_that_? Why, it's quite a _bee-yutiful_ place, with
+green venetians, and a conservatory, and a croaky lawn, and everything!
+Fancy all that belonging to _him!_ It's well to be a grocer--in _these_
+parts, seemingly!
+
+_Male P._ Ah, _we_ ought to come up and start business here; it 'ud be
+better than being in the Caledonian Road!
+
+    [_They meditate for the remainder of the journey upon the caprices
+    of Fortune with regard to grocery profits in Caledonia and the
+    Caledonian Road respectively._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "MEN WERE DECEIVERS EVER"
+
+_Mr. Punch_ is at present in the Highlands "a-chasing the deer."
+
+_Mrs. Punch_ is at home, and has promised all her friends haunches of
+venison as soon as they arrive!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "DESIRABLE"
+
+_Saxon Passenger (on Highland coach)._ "Of course you're well acquainted
+with the country round about here. Do you know 'Glen Accron'?"
+
+_Driver._ "Aye, weel."
+
+_Saxon Passenger (who had just bought the estate)._ "What sort of a
+place is it?"
+
+_Driver._ "Weel, if ye saw the deil tethered on't, ye'd just say 'Puir
+brute'!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: ISOLATION!--OFF THE ORKNEYS
+
+_Southern Tourist._ "'Get any newspapers here?"
+
+_Orcadian Boatman._ "Ou aye, when the steamer comes. If it's fine,
+she'll come ance a week; but when it's stormy, i' winter, we dinna catch
+a glint o' her for three months at a time."
+
+_S. T._ "Then you'll not know what's goin' on in London!"
+
+_O. B._ "Na--but ye see ye're just as ill aff i' London as we are, for
+ye dinna ken what's gaun on here!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: ON THE MOORS
+
+_The Laird's Brother-in-law (from London)._ "It's very strange, Lachlan!
+I'm having no luck!--and yet I seem to see two birds in place of one?
+That was surely very strong whiskey your master gave me at lunch?"
+
+_Keeper._ "Maybe aye and maybe no--the whuskey was goot; but any way ye
+dinna manage to hit the richt bird o' the twa!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A POOR ADVERTISEMENT
+
+_Tourist._ "I suppose you feel proud to have such a distinguished man
+staying in your house?"
+
+_Host of the "Drumdonnachie Arms."_ "'Deed no! A body like that does us
+mair hairm than guid; his appearance is nae credit tae oor
+commissariat!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: GENEROSITY
+
+_Noble Lord (whose rifle has brought to a scarcely untimely end a very
+consumptive-looking fallow deer)._ "Tut--t, t, t, t, tut! O, I say,
+Stubbs!"--(_to his keeper_)--"you shouldn't have let me kill such a
+poor, little, sickly, scraggy thing as this, you know! It positively
+isn't fit for human food! Ah! look here, now! I'll tell you what. You
+and McFarlin may have this buck between you!!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: TRAVELLER TOO BONA FIDE
+
+_Dusty Pedestrian._ "I should like a glass of beer, missis, please----"
+
+_Landlady._ "Hae ye been trevellin' by rell?"
+
+_Pedestrian._ "No, I've been walking--fourteen miles."
+
+_Landlady._ "Na, na, nae drink will ony yin get here, wha's been
+pleesure-seekin' o' the Sawbath day!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: MR. PUNCH IN THE HIGHLANDS
+
+He goes on board the _Iona_. The only drawback to his perfect enjoyment
+is the jealousy caused among all the gentlemen by the ladies clustering
+round him on all occasions.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: PREHISTORIC PEEPS
+
+There were often unforeseen circumstances which gave to the Highland
+stalking of those days an added zest!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PLEASURES OF TRAVEL
+
+(_By Ane that has kent them_)
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    'Tis a great thing, the Traivel; I'll thank ye tae find
+    Its equal for openin' the poors o' the mind.
+    It mak's a man polished, an' gies him, ye ken,
+    Sic a graun' cosmypollitan knowledge o' men!
+
+    I ne'er was a stay-at-hame callant ava,
+    I aye must be rantin' an' roamin' awa',
+    An' far hae I wandered, an' muckle hae seen
+    O' the ways o' the warl' wi' ma vara ain een.
+
+    I've been tae Kingskettle wi' Wullie an' Jeames,
+    I've veesited Anster an' Elie an' Wemyss,
+    I've walked tae Kirkca'dy an' Cupar an' Crail,
+    An' I aince was awa' tae Dundee wi' the rail.
+
+    Losh me, sir! The wonnerfu' things that I saw!
+    The kirks wi' their steeples, sae bonny an' braw
+    An' publics whauriver ye turned wi' yer ee--
+    'Tis jist a complete eddication, Dundee!
+
+    Theer's streets--be the hunner! An' shops be the score!
+    Theer's bakers an' grocers an' fleshers galore!
+    An' milliners' winders a' flauntin' awa'
+    Wi' the last o' the fashions frae Lunnon an' a'.
+
+    An' eh, sic a thrang, sir! I saw in a minnit
+    Mair folk than the toun o' Kinghorn will hae in it
+    I wadna hae thocht that the hail o' creation
+    Could boast at ae time sic a vast population!
+
+    Ma word, sir! It gars ye clap haun' tae yer broo
+    An' wunner what's Providence after the noo
+    That he lets sic a swarm o' they cratur's be born
+    Wham naebody kens aboot here in Kinghorn.
+
+    What?--Leeberal minded?--Ye canna but be
+    When ye've had sic a graun' eddication as me.
+    For oh, theer is naethin' like traivel, ye ken,
+    For growin' acquent wi' the natur' o' men.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"FALLS OF FOYERS."--A correspondent writes:--"I have seen a good many
+letters in the _Times_, headed 'The Falls of the Foyers.' Here and
+abroad I have seen many Foyers, and only fell down once. This was at the
+Theatre Francais, where the Foyer is kept highly polished, or used to be
+so. If the Foyers are carpeted or matted, there need be no 'Falls.'
+
+  Yours,
+
+    COMMON SENSE."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "WINGED"
+
+_First Gael._ "What's the matter, Tonal?"
+
+_Second ditto (who had been out with Old Briggs)._ "Matter! Hur legs is
+full o' shoots".]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: MR. PUNCH AT THE HIGHLAND GAMES
+
+Shows the natives how to "put the stone."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: AN ARTIST SCAMP IN THE HIGHLANDS
+
+_Artist (entering)._ "My good woman, if you'll allow me, I'll just paint
+that bedstead of yours."
+
+_Cottager (with bob-curtsey)._ "Thank ye, sir, I' sure it's very kind of
+ye--but dinna ye think that little one over yonder wants it more?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+EN ECOSSE
+
+_A Monsieur Punch_
+
+DEAR MISTER,--I come of to make a little voyage in Scotland. Ah, the
+beautiful country of Sir Scott, Sir Wallace, and Sir Burns! I am gone to
+render visit to one of my english friends, a charming boy--_un charmant
+garcon_--and his wife, a lady very instructed and very spiritual, and
+their childs. I adore them, the dear little english childs, who have the
+cheeks like some roses, and the hairs like some flax, as one says in
+your country, all buckled--_boucles_, how say you?
+
+I go by the train of night--in french one says "_le sleeping_"--to
+Edimbourg, and then to Calendar, where I attend to find a coach--in
+french one says "_un mail_" or "_un fourinhand_." _Nom d'une pipe_, it
+is one of those ridicule carriages, called in french "_un breack_" and
+in english a char-a-banc--that which the english pronounce
+"_tcherribaingue_"--which attends us at the going out of the station! Eh
+well, in voyage one must habituate himself to all! But a such carriage
+discovered--_decouverte_--seems to me well unuseful in a country where
+he falls of rain without cease.
+
+Before to start I demand of all the world some _renseignements_ on the
+scottish climate, and all the world responds me, "All-days of the rain."
+By consequence I procure myself some impermeable vestments, one
+mackintosch coat, one mackintosch cape of Inverness, one mackintosch
+covering of voyage, one south-western hat, some umbrellas, some gaiters,
+and many pairs of boots very thick--not boots of town, but veritable
+"shootings."
+
+I arrive at Edimbourg by a morning of the most sads; the sky grey, the
+earth wet, the air humid. Therefore I propose to myself to search at
+Calender a place at the interior, _et voila_--and see there--the
+_breack_ has no interior! There is but that which one calls a "boot",
+and me, Auguste, can I to lie myself there at the middle of the
+baggages? Ah no! Thus I am forced to endorse--_endosser_--my impermeable
+vestments and to protect myself the head by my south-western hat. Then,
+holding firmly the most strong of my umbrellas, I say to the coacher,
+"He goes to fall of the rain, is it not?" He makes a sign of head of not
+to comprehend. Ah, for sure, he is scottish! I indicate the sky and my
+umbrella, and I say "Rain?" and then he comprehends. "_Eh huile_", he
+responds to me, "_ah canna se, mebi huile no he meukl the de_." I write
+this phonetically, for I comprehend not the scottish language. What
+droll of conversation! Him comprehends not the english; me I comprehend
+not the scottish.
+
+But I essay of new, "How many has he of it from here to the lake?"
+_C'est inutile_--it is unuseful. I say, "Distance?" He comprehends.
+"_Mebi oui taque toua hours_", says he; "_beutt yile no fache yoursel,
+its no se lang that yile bi ouishinn yoursel aoua_." _Quelle
+langue_--what language, even to write phonetically! I comprehend one
+sole word, "hours." Some hours! _Sapristi!_ I say, "Hours?" He says
+"_Toua_" all together, a monosyllable. _Sans aucune doute ca veut dire_
+"twelve"--_douze_. Twelve hours on a _breack_ in a such climate! Ah, no!
+_C'est trop fort_--it is too strong! "Hold", I cry myself, "attend, I
+descend, I go not!" It is true that I see not how I can to descend, for
+I am _entoure_--how say you? of voyagers. We are five on a bench, of the
+most narrows, and me I am at the middle. And the bench before us is also
+complete, and we touch him of the knees. And my neighbours carry on the
+knees all sorts of packets, umbrellas, canes, sacks of voyage, &c. _Il
+n'y a pas moyen_--he has not there mean. And the coacher says me "_Na,
+na, monne, yile no ghitt doun, yile djest baid ouar yer sittinn._" Then
+he mounts to his place, and we part immediately. _Il va tomber de la
+pluie! Douze heures! Mon Dieu, quel voyage!_
+
+  Agree, &c.,
+
+    AUGUSTE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: ZEAL
+
+_Saxon Tourist._ "Been at the kirk?"
+
+_Celt._ "Aye."
+
+_Saxon T._ "How far is it?"
+
+_Celt._ "Daur say it'll be fourteen mile."
+
+_Saxon T._ "Fourteen miles!!"
+
+_Celt._ "Aye, aw'm awfu' fond o' the preachin'"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THRIFT
+
+_Peebles Body (to townsman who was supposed to be in London on a
+visit)._ "E--eh Mac! ye're sune hame again!"
+
+_Mac._ "E--eh, it's just a ruinous place, that! Mun, a had na' been
+the-erre abune twa hoours when--_bang_--went _saxpence!!!_"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A SATISFACTORY SOLUTION
+
+"I fear, Duncan, that friend of mine does not seem overly safe with his
+gun."
+
+"No, sir. But I'm thinkin' it'll be all right if you wass to go wan side
+o' him and Mr. John the ither. He canna shoot baith o' ye!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "VITA FUMUS"
+
+_Tonal._ "Whar'll ye hae been till, Tugal?"
+
+_Tugal._ "At ta McTavishes' funeral----"
+
+_Tonal._ "An' is ta Tavish deed?"
+
+_Tugal._ "Deed is he!!"
+
+_Tonal._ "Losh, mon! Fowk are aye deein' noo that never used to dee
+afore!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: PRECAUTIONS
+
+_Saxon Angler (to his keeper)._ "You seem in a great hurry with your
+clip! I haven't seen a sign of a fish yet--not a rise!"
+
+_Duncan._ "'Deed, sir, I wisna a botherin' mysel' aboot the fush; but
+seein' you wis new to the business, I had a thocht it widna be lang
+afore you were needin' a left oot o' the watter yoursel'!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: HIS POUND OF FLESH
+
+_Financier (tenant of our forest, after a week's unsuccessful
+stalking)._ "Now, look here, my man. I bought and paid for ten stags. If
+the brutes can't be shot, you'll have to trap them! I've promised the
+venison, and I mean to have it!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: SCRUPULOUS
+
+_Shepherd._ "O, Jims, mun! Can ye no gie a whustle on tha ram'lin' brute
+o' mine? I daurna mysel'; it's just fast-day in oor parish!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "THE LAND OF LORN"
+
+_It has drizzled incessantly, for a fortnight, since the Smiths came
+down to their charming villa at Braebogie, in Argyleshire._
+
+_Keeper (who has come up to say the boat is ready on the loch, if
+"they're for fushin' the day")._ "Eh! I should na wonder if this weather
+tur-rns ta rain!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: LOCAL
+
+SUNDAY MORNING
+
+_Tourist (staying at the Glenmulctem Hotel--dubiously)._ "Can
+I--ah--have a boat?"
+
+_Boatman._ "Oo--aye!"
+
+_Tourist._ "But I thought you--ah--never broke the--aw--Sabbath in
+Scotland?"
+
+_Boatman._ "Aweel, ye ken the Sawbath disna' come doon to the loch--it
+just staps at the hottle!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+EN ECOSSE (ENCORE)
+
+_A Monsieur Punch_
+
+DEAR MISTER,--I have spoken you of my departure from Calendar on the
+_breack_. Eh, well, he rained not of the whole of the whole--_du tout
+du tout! Il faisait un temps superbe_--he was making a superb time, the
+route was well agreeable, and the voyage lasted but two hours, and not
+twelve. What droll of idea! In Scottish _twa_ is two, not twelve. I was
+so content to arrive so quick, and without to be wetted that I gave the
+coacher a good to-drink--_un bon pourboire_--though before to start all
+the voyagers had paid him a "tipp", that which he called a "driver's
+fee." Again what droll of idea! To give the to-drink before to start,
+and each one the same--six pennys.
+
+My friend encountered me and conducted me to his house, where I have
+passed fifteen days, a sojourn of the most agreeables. And all the time
+almost not one sole drop of rain! _J'avais beau_--I had fine--to buy all
+my impermeable vestments, I carry them never. One sole umbrella suffices
+me, and I open him but two times. And yet one says that the Scotland is
+a rainy country. It is perhaps a season _tout a fait_--all to
+fact--exceptional. But fifteen days almost without rain! One would
+believe himself at the border of the Mediterranean, absolutely at the
+South. And I have eaten of the "porridg", me Auguste! _Partout_ I essay
+the dish of the country. I take at first a spoonful pure and simple. _Oh
+la, la!_ My friend offers me of the cream. It is well. Also of the salt.
+_Quelle idee!_ But no, before me I perceive a dish of _confiture_, that
+which the Scottish call "marmaladde." _A la bonne heure!_ With some
+marmaladde, some cream, and much of sugar, I find that the "porridg" is
+enough well, for I taste him no more.
+
+One day we make an ascension, and we see many grouses. Only we can not
+to shoot, for it is not yet the season of the huntings. It is but a hill
+that we mount. The name appears me to be french, but bad written. "Ben
+Venue", that is to say, "_Bienvenu_"--_soyez le bienvenu_. She is one of
+the first of the Scottish hills, and she says "welcome" in french. It is
+a pretty idea, and a politeness very amiable towards my country. I
+salute the hospitable Scotland and I thank her. It is a great country,
+of brave men, of charming women--ah, I recall to myself some eyes so
+beautiful, some forms so attracting!--of ravishing landscapes, and, at
+that epoch there, of a climate so delicious. She has one sole and one
+great defect. The best Scottish hotels cost very dear, and, my faith,
+the two or three that I visited are not great thing like
+comfortable--_ne sont pas grand'chose comme comfortable!_
+
+One day we make a little excursion on the Lake of Lomond. The lake is
+well beautiful, and the steamboat is excellent. But in one certain
+hotel, in descending from a _breack_, and before to embark, we take the
+"lunch." We bargain not, we ask not even the price, we eat at the _table
+d'hote_ like all the world in Swiss, in France, even in Germany, when
+there is but one half hour before the departure of the train or of the
+boat. _Oh la, la!_ I have eaten in the spanish hotels, on the steamboats
+of the italian lakes, even in the _restaurants--mon Dieu!_--of the
+english railways, but never, never--_au grand jamais_--have I eaten a
+_dejeuner_ like that! One dish I shall forget never; some exterior green
+leaves of lettuce, without oil or vinegar, which they called a "salad."
+_Parbleu_--by blue! In all the history of the world there has been but
+one man who would have could to eat her with pleasure--Nabuchodonosor!
+
+  Agree, &c.,
+
+    AUGUSTE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "CANNY"
+
+_Sister._ "Why, Charles, you've got raw whiskey here!"
+
+_Charles._ "Well, it's hardly worth while to bring water. We can always
+find that as we go along--when we want it."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: CAUTIOUS
+
+_Visitor (at out-of-the-way inn in the North)._ "Do you know anything
+about salmon-poaching in this neighbourhood?"
+
+_Landlady (whose son is not above suspicion)._--"Eh--no, sir. Maybe it's
+a new style of cooking as we haven't heard of in these parts, as you
+see, sir, we only do our eggs that way; and"--(_brightening up_)--"if
+you like 'em, I can get you a dish at once!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A DECIDED OPINION
+
+_Proprietor of shootings ("in the course of conversation")._ "Yes, but
+you know, Sandy, it's difficult to choose between the Scylla of a shy
+tenant, and the Charybdis of----"
+
+_Sandy (promptly)._ "Aweel! Gie me the siller, an' anybuddy that likes
+may hae the tither!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _Chappie (after missing his fourth stag, explains)._
+"Aw--fact is, the--aw--waving grass was in my way."
+
+_Old Stalker._ "Hoot, mon, wad he hae me bring out a scythe?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Our artist catches it again this winter in the
+Highlands.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A FINE HEAD (BUT NOT OF THE RIGHT SORT OF CATTLE) Perkins
+has paid a mint of money for his shooting, and has had bad luck all the
+season. To-day, however, he gets a shot, only--it turns out to be at a
+cow!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A "SCENE" IN THE HIGHLANDS
+
+_Ill-used husband_ (_under the bed_). "Aye! Ye may crack me, and ye may
+thrash me, but ye canna break my manly sperrit. I'll na come oot!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: MR. PUNCH IN THE HIGHLANDS
+
+He is at present on a boating excursion, and describes the motion as
+extremely pleasant, and has no dread of sea-sickness.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "GAME" IN THE HIGHLANDS
+
+_Captain Jinks._ "Birds plentiful, I hope, Donald?"
+
+_Donald._ "Tousans, sir--in tousans."
+
+_Captain J._ "Any zebras?"
+
+_Donald_ (_anxious to please_). "Is't zebras? They're in tousans, too."
+
+_Captain J._ "And gorillas, no doubt?"
+
+_Donald._ "Well, noo an' then we see ane or twa--just like yerself."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: MISS LAVINIA BROUNJONES'S ADVENTURES IN THE HIGHLANDS
+
+Lavinia takes a siesta,]
+
+[Illustration: And the frightful situation she finds herself in at the
+end of it.]
+
+[Illustration: Lavinia arrives at a waterfall, and asks its name. The
+shepherd (not understanding English) informs her in Gaelic that it is
+called (as Lavinia supposes) "Vicharoobashallochoggilnabo." Lavinia
+thinks it a very pretty name.]
+
+[Illustration: A bright idea strikes the shepherd, and before Lavinia
+can remonstrate, he transports her, in the usual manner, to the other
+side.]
+
+[Illustration: MISS LAVINIA BROUNJONES
+
+She comes suddenly on a strange structure--apparently a native fort, and
+is just going to sketch it, when a savage of gigantic stature, and armed
+to the teeth, starts from an ambush, and menaces her in Gaelic!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TWENTY HOURS AFTER
+
+EUSTON, 8 P.M.
+
+    I'm sick of this sweltering weather.
+      Phew! ninety degrees in the shade!
+    I long for the hills and the heather,
+      I long for the kilt and the plaid;
+    I long to escape from this hot land
+      Where there isn't a mouthful of air,
+    And fly to the breezes of Scotland--
+      It's never too stuffy up there.
+
+    For weeks I have sat in pyjamas,
+      And found even these were _de trop_,
+    And envied the folk of Bahamas
+      Who dress in a feather or so;
+    But now there's an end to my grilling,
+      My Inferno's a thing of the past;
+    Hurrah! there's the whistle a-shrilling--
+      We are off to the Highlands at last!
+
+CALLANDER, 4 P.M.
+
+    The dull leaden skies are all clouded
+      In the gloom of a sad weeping day,
+    The desolate mountains are shrouded
+      In palls of funereal grey;
+    'Mid the skirl of the wild wintry weather
+      The torrents descend in a sheet
+    As we shiver all huddled together
+      In the reek of the smouldering peat.
+
+    A plague on the Highlands! to think of
+      The heat that but lately we banned;
+    Oh! what would we give for a blink of
+      The bright sunny side of the Strand!
+    To think there are folk that still revel
+      In Summer, and fling themselves down,
+    In the Park, or St. James? What the d----
+      Possessed us to hurry from town?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"OUT OF TUNE AND HARSH."--_First Elder_ (_at the Kirk "Skellin'"_). "Did
+ye hear Dougal? More snorin' in the sermon?"
+
+_Second Elder_, "Parefec'ly disgracefu'! He's waukened 's a'!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: OVERHEARD IN THE HIGHLANDS
+
+_First Chieftain._ "I say, old chap, what a doose of a bore these games
+are!"
+
+_Second Chieftain._ "Ah, but, my dear boy, it is this sort of thing that
+has made us Scotchmen _what we are!!_"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "SERMONS IN STONES"
+
+_Tourist_ (_of an inquiring and antiquarian turn_). "Now I suppose,
+farmer, that large cairn of stones has some history?"
+
+_Highland Farmer._ "Ooh, aye, that buig o' stanes has a gran' history
+whatever!"
+
+_Tourist_ (_eagerly_). "Indeed! I should like to----What is the
+legend----?"
+
+_Farmer._ "Just a gran' history!" (_Solemnly._) "It took a' ma cairts
+full and horses sax months to gather them aff he land and pit them
+ther-r-re!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: JETSAM AND FLOTSAM
+
+Smith being shut out from the Continent this year, takes a cottage ornee
+on Dee-Side. Scotland. The children are sent up first. The house is
+described as "conveniently furnished"--they find it so!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: IN THE WILDS OF THE NORTH.
+
+_Hungry Saxon_ (_just arrived, with equally hungry family_). "Well,
+now--er--what can you give us for dinner, as soon as we've had a wash?"
+
+_Scotch Lassie._ "Oh, jist onything!"
+
+_H. S._ (_rubbing his hands in anticipation_). "Ah! Now we'll have a
+nice juicy steak."
+
+_Lassie._ "A--weel. We'll be haein' some steak here maybe by the boat i'
+the morn's morn!"
+
+_H. S._ (_a little crestfallen_). "Oh--well--chops then. We'll say
+mutton chops."
+
+_Lassie._ "Oh, ay, but we've no been killin' a sheep the day!"
+
+    [_Ends up with boiled eggs, and vows to remain at home for the future._
+
+]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE DUKE OF ATHOLL'S SHILLING (1851)
+
+The _North British Mail_ assures us that the Duke of Atholl exacts one
+shilling a head from every person taking a walk in his ground at
+Dunkeld. This is rather dear; but the impost would be insupportable if
+his Grace insisted upon also showing himself for the money.
+
+A HIGHLAND CORONACH
+
+_Or Lament over the Acts and State of the Duke of Atholl._
+
+After Scott.
+
+    He has shut up the mountain,
+    He has locked up the forest,
+    He has bunged up the fountain,
+    When our need was the sorest;
+    The traveller stirring
+    To the North, may dogs borrow;
+    But the Duke gives no hearing,
+    No pass--but to sorrow.
+
+    The hand of the tourist
+    Grasps the carpet-bag grimly,
+    But a face of the dourest
+    Frowns through the Glen dimly.
+    The autumn winds, rushing,
+    Stir a kilt of the queerest,
+    Duke and gillies come crushing
+    Where pleasure is nearest!
+
+    Queer foot on the corrie,
+    Oddly loving to cumber--
+    Give up this odd foray,
+    Awake from your slumber!
+    Take your ban from the mountain,
+    Take your lock from the river,
+    Take your bolt from the fountain,
+    Now at once, and for ever!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: The sad fate of our only ham.--The pursuit.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A RARA MONGRELLIS
+
+_Tourist._ "Your dog appears to be deaf, as he pays no attention to me."
+
+_Shepherd._ "Na, na, sir. She's a varra wise dog, for all tat. But she
+only speaks Gaelic."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "IN FOR IT"
+
+_Innocent Tourist._ "No fish to be caught in Loch Fine now? And how do
+you support yourself?"
+
+_Native._ "Whiles she carries parcels, and whiles she raws people in ta
+poat, and whiles a shentleman 'ull give her a saxpence or a shillin'!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A BLANK DAY
+
+_The Keeper_ (_to Brown, who rents the forest_). "Doon wi' ye! Doon wi'
+ye! Get ahint a stang!"
+
+_Brown_ (_out of temper--he had been "stalking" about all the morning,
+and missed several times_). "Yes, it's all very well to say 'Get behind
+a stone.' But show me one!--show me one!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Mr. Punch passes a night at McGillie Cullum Castle.]
+
+[Illustration: The Laird, as a delicate compliment, serenades him.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A BAD SEASON
+
+_Sportsman._ "I can assure you, what with the rent of the moor, and my
+expenses, and 'what not,' the birds have cost me--ah--a sovereign
+apiece!!"
+
+_Keeper._ "A' weel, sir! 'Deed it's a maircy ye didna kill na mair o'
+'em!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: CANDID
+
+_Sportsman._ "Boy, you've been at this whiskey!"
+
+_Boy_ (_who has brought the luncheon-basket_). "Na! The cooark wadna
+come oot!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "UNCO CANNY"
+
+_Noble Sportsman._ "Missed, eh?"
+
+_Cautious Keeper._ "Weel, a' wadna gang quite sae faur as to say that;
+but a' doot ye hay'na _exactly_ hit."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE SONG OF THE SCOTCH TOURIST
+
+    Those Scotch hotels! Those Scotch hotels
+    Are fit for princes and for swells;
+    But their high charges don't agree
+    With humbler travellers like me.
+
+    Twelve shillings daily for my board
+    Is more than I can well afford,
+    For this includes nor ale nor wine,
+    Whereof I drink some when I dine.
+
+    Bad sherry's charged at eight-and-six,
+    A price that in my gizzard sticks:
+    And if I want a pint of port,
+    A crown is what I'm pilfer'd for 't.
+
+    For service, too, I have to pay,
+    Two shillings, as a rule, per day:
+    Yet always, when I leave the door,
+    The boots and waiter beg for more.
+
+    So, till a fortune I can spend,
+    Abroad my autumn steps I'll bend;
+    Far cheaper there, experience tells,
+    Is living than at Scotch hotels!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A VERY DIFFERENT MATTER
+
+_Southern Lord_ (_staying at Highland castle_). "Thank you so much.
+I--ah--weally enjoy your music. I think of having a piper at my own
+place."
+
+_Sandy the piper._ "An' fat kin' o' a piper would your lordship be
+needin'?"
+
+_Southern Lord._ "Oh, certainly a good piper like yourself, Sandy."
+
+_Sandy_ (_sniffing_). "Och! Inteet!--Ye might easily fin' a lord like
+your lordship, but it's nae sae easy to fin' a piper like me whatever!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE END
+
+BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Punch in the Highlands, by Various
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