NORTH.

In short, you laugh the man of Science into a sulky drunkard, and he and his Principles and Elements of Political Economy lie snoring together below the mahogany, till getting offensive, mine host calls in the chairman from the corner, and bundling him into the vehicle, the room is ventilated,-export being in this case infinitely more advantageous than import, and society benefited by getting suddenly off hand so much native produce and raw material -to say nothing of Dugald and the carrying trade.

SHEPHERD.

Ha, ha, ha!—I canna help lauchin', it souns sae comical. I ken naithin' about Political Economy-but I hae observed ae thing in the kintra, and especially at the Farmer's Club at Selkirk, that the greatest gawpus's are aye speakin' about it, that can speak about naething else and perhaps it would be fully as weel for them gin they were to read Hogg upon Sheep, and Dr Findlater. They're a' hard drinkers, too, the maist o' them—bad managers— and break.

NORTH.

James, only think of an infuriated dunce in the Scotsman declaring, that Sir Walter Scott is not entitled to offer his opinion to the public on the Currency!

SHEPHERD.

De'el tak the idiwut-what for no?

NORTH.

The subject is above and beyond his powers! The obscure and insolent lout claims the subject as his own ;-he, forsooth, has read all the authors, "from Smith to Ricardo," and calls upon the world to hold its mouth wide open, that he may administer a dose of doctrine.

SHEPHERD.

Hoo does the fule ken what Sir Walter has read or no read? And oh! sir? can ony cretur in the Scotsman be really sae weak or wicket as to think himsel' capable o' understandin' ony ae thing whatsomever that's ayont the grasp o' the author o' Waverley's haun'?

TICKLER.

About a thousand editors of pelting journals, and three times that number of understrappers "upon the establishment," think themselves able to correct the errors of Adam Smith. "We cannot help being surprised that Adam Smith," &c., and then the dunce, shutting his eyes, and clenching his fists, without the slgutest provocation, runs his numscull bang against the illustrious sage.

NORTH.

Adam never so much as inclines from the centre of gravity-while the periodical meal-monger, leaving only some white on the sleeve of the old gentleman's coat, which is easily brushed off by the hand, reels off into the ditch, as if he had been repelled from the wall of a house, and is extricated by some good-natured friend, who holds him up, dirty and dripping, to the derision of all beholders.

SHEPHERD.

It's perfectly true, that a' the newspaper chiels speak out bauldly upon the principles and yelements o' the science and though I'm wullin' to alloo that there's some verra clever fallows amang them, yet oh! man, it's mair than laughable, for it's loathsome, to hear them ca'in that ower kittle for Sir Walter that's sae easy to themselves, wha write, in my opinion, a sair splutterin style, as to language, and, as to thocht, they gang roun' and roun', and across and re-across, backards and forruts, out o' ae yett and in at anither, now loupin' ower the hedges, and now bringin' doun the stane-wa's,-sometimes playin' plouter into a wat place up to the oxters, and sometimes stumblin' amang stanes,-noo rinnin' fast fast, like a jowler on the scent, and then sittin' down on a knowe, and yowlin like a colly at the moon,-in short, like a fou' fallow that has lost his way in a darkish nicht, and after sax hours' sair and unavailing travel, is discovered snoring sound asleep on the road-side by decent folk riding in to the market.

NORTH.

I shall probably have two pretty stiffish articles about public men and things

in this Number; and therefore fear that I must delay the Currency Question for another month. I shall then, in my usual way, settle it for ever.

TICKLER.

Malachi Malagrowther is in the wrong, and the Courier scribe has done him.

NORTH.

Malachi Malagrowther is in the right, and the Courier prig has done himself. I have a twenty-page article in my head; and it will spring forth, fullgrown, and armed like Minerva, from the brain of Jove.

SHEPHERD.

Ma faith you and Malachi 'll skelp their doups for them, and gar them skirl.

NORTH.

O Lord, James! but the Chancellor of the Exchequer is a heavy joker! If his taxes were as heavy as his wit, the country would indeed be sorely burthened. There is a grace and brilliancy about all Canning says, and he never makes a pass without a palpable hit. Robinson should stick to his own figures -arithmetical ones, I mean-yet there was "Hear, hear!" And the Chancellor cackled, flapped his wings, and crowed after the fashion of an unwieldy barndoor fowl, who sees that a game-cock, who would kill him at a single blow, is at a safe distance in another croft, attending to his own pursuits.

I disagree entirely—

TICKLER.

SHEPHERD.

Haud your tongue, Mr Tickler. I'm quite convinced by Mr North's twentypage article, that's to loup out like Minerva. Besides, eh! man, a' the Englishers, like gowks, canna see that Malachi has a way o' expressin' himsel peculiar to the Malagrowthers; and they set about answering him wi' grave faces the length o' my arm.

NORTH.

Very silly indeed, James-but there's a braw time comin.' Tickler, have you been at the Exhibition?

TICKLER.

John Watson Gordon is great. His Dr Hunter is equal to anything of Raeburn's.

NORTH.

I doubt that.

TICKLER.

Well then-next to Raeburn-John stands among our Scottish modern portrait painters.

SHEPHERD.

What for does every person cry out, "Ower many portraits, ower many portraits?" Can onything be mair pleasant than just a' at ance, when your freend is a thousand miles aff, or perhaps dead, to see the very cretur himsel on canvas, lookin' at you wi' a smile or a frown?

TICKLER.

If people would not be so excessively ugly, James! Portraits are in general very unpardonable. Mr Colvin Smith forces upon you strong and striking likenesses, and I augur well of the young man when he shall have learned to draw and colour; but why represent all his gentlemen as half-seas over, and all his ladies as little better than they should be ?

NORTH.

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

SHEPHERD.

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

NORTH.

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

TICKLER.

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

NORTH.

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

SHEPHERD.

I've skarted some odds and ends wi' the keelavin on brown paper-and Mr Scroope tell't Sir Walter they showed a gran' natural genius. I fin' maist diffeeculty in the foreshortnin' and perspective. Things wunna retire and come forrit as I wish-and the back-grun will be the fore-grund whether I will or no. Sometimes, however, I dash the distance aff' wi' a lucky stroke, and then I can get in the sheep or cattle in front, aud the sketch, when you dinna stan' ower near, has a' the effect o' nature.

NORTH.

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

SHEPHERD.

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

NORTH.

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

SHEPHERD.

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

NORTH.

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

SHEPHERD.

Ye'se ha't for naithin, sir, and welcome-if you'll only fastent against the wa wi' a prin, aboon the brace-piece o' your Leebrary-room. Let it be in the middle, and you sall hae Twa Briggs to hing on either side on't. The ane, a' the time I was drawn't, I could hardly persuade mysel wasna a rainbow. You see it's flung across a torrent gayen far up a hillside, and I was sittin' sketchin't a gude piece down below, on a cairn. The spray o' the torrent had wat a' the mosses, and flowers, and weeds, and sic like, on the arch, and the sun smote it wi' sudden glory, till in an instant it burst into a variegated low, and I could hae ta'en my Bible-oath it was the rainbow. Oh! man, that I had had a pallet o' colours! I'm sure I could ha'e mixed them up prismatically aneuch-yet wi' the verra mere, naked, unassisted keelavine (that day fortunately it was a red ane,) I caught the character o' the apparition, and keepin' my een for about a minute on the paper, shadin' aff and aff, you ken,

as fine as I could,-when I luckit up again, naething but a bare stane and lime Brigg, wi' an auld man sittin' on a powney, wi' his knees up to his chin, for he happened to be a cadger, and he had his creels. I felt as if it had been a' glamour. Sae muckle for ane o' the Twa Briggs.

TICKLER.

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

SHEPHERD.

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

NORTH.

Ten o'clock! Now, James, eye the folding-doors-for Ambrose is true to a second. Lo, and behold! (The doors are thrown open.)

SHEPHERD.

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

NORTH.

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

SHEPHERD.

Gentle is that gentle does-and I hope, on the whole, nane o' my freens hae ony reason to be ashamed o'n e, though I hae my failins.

NORTH.

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