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Bryce once more retreated, and Mrs. Maxwell, having selected a beautiful sheet of note paper, quickly penned the following effusion:

"My dear Lady Crosby, permit me to request your acceptance of a solan goose, which has just been sent me from Maxwell Hall. Knowing your fondness for this bird, I am delighted at having it in my power to gratify you. I hope that you continue to enjoy good health. This is to be a very gay winter. By the bye, do you know any one who is acquainted with the French noblesse? I am dying to meet with them. Ever, my dear Lady Crosby, yours truly, M. MAXWELL."

Lady Crosby being out when this billet reached her house, it was opened by one of her daughters. "Bless me, Maria!" she exclaimed to her sister, "how fortunate it was that I opened this note; Mrs. Maxwell has sent mamma a solan goose!" "Dreadful!" exclaimed Eliza; "I am sure if mamma hears of it she will have it roasted immediately, and Captain Jessamy, of the Lancers, is to call to-day, and you know, a roasted solan goose is enough to contaminate a whole parish, I shall certainly go distracted!" "Don't discompose yourself," replied Maria; "I shall take good care to send it out of the house before mamma comes home; meanwhile, I must write a civil answer to Mrs. Maxwell's note. I dare say she will not think of alluding to it; but, if she should, mamma, luckily, is pretty deaf, and may never be a bit the wiser." "I think," said Eliza, we had better send the goose to the Napiers, as they were rather affronted at not being asked to our last musical party; I dare say they will make no use of it, but it looks attentive." "An excellent thought," rejoined Maria. No sooner said than done; in five minutes, the travelled bird had once more changed its quarters.

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"A solan goose!" ejaculated Mrs. Napier, as her footman gave her the intelligence of Lady Crosby's present. "Pray, return my compliments to her ladyship, and I feel much obliged by her polite attention. Truly," continued she, when the domestic

had retired to fulfil this mission, "if Lady Crosby thinks to stop our mouths with a solan goose, she will find herself very much mistaken. I suppose she means this as a peace-offering for not having asked us to her last party. I suppose she was afraid, Clara, my dear, you would cut out her clumsy daughters with Sir Charles." "If I don't, it shall not be my fault," replied her amiable daughter. 'I flirted with him in such famous style at the last concert, that I thought Eliza would have fainted on the spot. But what are you going to do with the odious bird?" "Oh, I shall desire John to carry it to poor Mrs. Johnstone." "I wonder, mamma, that you would take the trouble of sending all the way to the Canongate for any such purpose; what good can it do you to oblige people who are so wretchedly poor?" "Why, my dear," replied the lady, "to tell you the truth, your father, in early life, received such valuable assistance from Mr. Johnstone, who was at that time a very rich man, as laid the foundation of his present fortune. Severe losses reduced Mr. Johnstone to poverty; he died, and your father has always been intending, at least promising to do something for the family, but has never found an opportunity. Last year, Mrs. Johnstone most unfortunately heard that he had it in his power to get a young man out to India, and she applied to Mr. Napier on behalf of her son, which, I must say, was a very ill-judged step, as showing that she thought he required to be reminded of his promises, which, to a man of any feeling, must always be a grating circumstance; but I have often observed, that poor people have very little delicacy in such points; however, as your papa fancies sometimes that these people have a sort of claim on him, I am sure he will be glad to pay them any attention that costs him nothing."

Behold, then, our hero exiled from the fashionable regions of the West, and laid on the broad of his back on a table, in a small but clean room, in a humble tenement in the Canongate, where three hungry children eyed with delight his fat legs, his swelling breast and magnificent pinions.

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mamma, mamma," cried the children, skipping |
round the table, and clapping their hands, "what
a beautiful goose! how nice it will be when it is
roasted! You must have a great large slice,
mamma, for you had very little dinner yesterday.
Why have we never any nice dinners now, mamma?"
"Hush, little chatter-box," said her brother Henry,
a fine stripling of sixteen, seeing tears gather in
his mother's eyes. แ
"My dear boy," said Mrs. John-
stone, "it goes to my heart to think of depriving
these poor children of their expected treat, but I
think we ought to send this bird to our benefac-
tress, Lady Bethune. But for her, what would
have become of us? While the Napiers, who owe
all they have to your worthy and unfortunate fa-
ther, have given us nothing but empty promises,
she has been a consoling and ministring angel, and
I should wish to take this opportunity of showing
my gratitude; trifling as the offering is, I am sure
it will be received with kindness." "I am sure of
it," replied Henry; "and I will run and buy a few
nuts and apples to console the little ones for losing
their expected feast.'

The children gazed with lengthened faces as the goose was carried from their sight, and conveyed by Henry to the house of Lady Bethune, who, appreciating the motives which had dictated the gift, received it with benevolent kindness. "Tell your mother, my dear," said she to Henry, "that I feel

"

most particularly obliged by her attention, and be
sure to say that Sir James has hopes of procuring a
situation for you; and if he succeeds, I will come
over myself to tell her the good news.' Henry
bounded away as gay as a lark, while Lady Bethune,
after having given orders to her butler to send
some bolls of potatoes, meal, and a side of fine
mutton, to Mrs. Johnstone, next issued directions
for the disposal of the present she had just re-
ceived.

"La, madam!" exclaimed Mrs. Bryce, as she once
more made her appearance before her mistress, "if
here be not our identical solan goose come back to
us, with Lady Bethune's compliments! I know
him by his broken beak and ruffled leg; and as
sure as eggs are eggs, that's my master's knock at
the door!" Run, Bryce! fly!" cried Mrs. Max-
well in despair; put it out of sight! give it to the
house-dog!"

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Away ran Mrs. Bryce with her prize to Towler.; and he, not recollecting that he had any favor to obtain from any one, or that he had any dear friends to oblige, received the present very gratefully, and, as he lay in his kennel,

Lazily mumbled the bones of the dead;

thus ingloriously terminating the migrations of a
solan goose.

A LEGAL PEDANT NONPLUSSED.

ANON.

their construction, than from their adaptation to
the idea meant to be conveyed.

Peter thought to dash Isaac, and so confuse him
at first, that his evidence would want coherence,
and therefore be rejected. The officer called out,
"Is Isaac M'Gregor in court?" "Yes, sir!" shout-
ed Isaac, in a voice like the report of school-boy artil-
lery. "Come forward, then."

"Your

ISAAC M'GREGOR was a simple-minded rustic, of a most obliging disposition, with a vein of sarcastic humor, which he could work with very decided effect when occasion required. He rented a small patch of ground that fringed the muir of Kippen, part of the estate of Stirling of Carden. Isaac had never seen much of the great world. With a couple of horses, he contrived to keep the thatch over his shoulders, and the wheels of life in Peter threw himself back into his seat and looked working condition, by carrying whiskey for the far-terror, at the same time displaying a frill of cambric famed Kepp distillery, the proprietor of which, the late Mr. Cassils, was distantly related to him. Isaac piqued himself on his knowledge of horses, and was generally his own farrier, whether as respected medical treatment, or arming the hoofs of that noble animal against the tear and wear of the road. Isaac had been witness to the sale of a horse at the fair of Shandon, which, though sold as sound, turned out afterwards, to have some defect in the hoof; and an action was raised before the sheriff, and proof allowed, to show that the disease was of long standing, and the fault must have been known to the vender at the time of sale. Isaac was summoned to Dumblane, to give evidence before the sheriff in favor of the defender.

The agent employed by the purchaser was as pompous a quill driver" as ever scribbled on parchment or small pott. Peter Dudgeon (for that was his name) boasted that he had a more complete knowledge of the English language than any practitioner in sheriff or burgh court, from the Grampians to Cheviot, from his having the whole of Johnson's dictionary at his finger-ends. The words selected by Peter for common use, were remarkable more for the quantity of the alphabet employed in

66

"It

of extraordinary depth and longitude.
name is Isaac M'Gregor-is it?" "The minister
ance ca'd me that, and I haena had ony reason to
change 't since, but you needna speir my name, for
ye hae kent me ony time this twenty years."
is only for the information of the court."
"Giff
that be a', you're abler to tell them than I am-
you're glibber in the tongue." Very well; gen-
tlemen of the court, the deponent's name is Isaac
M'Gregor, a most enlightened, ratiocinating, and
philosophic carter, from the bloody mires of Lock-
Leggin. Notice that, gentlemen! Do you know
any thing about the vending, transtulation, or trans-
fer of the quadruped in question ?" "I didna bring
my dictionary in my pouch this day, or else I micht
hae been able to spell your meaning: maybe, my
lord judge, ye'll be able to explain what he means,
for to me there's just as muckle sense in the blether
o' the heather blubber!" "He means to ask, wit-
ness, do you know any thing about the sale of the
horse, the subject on which you are summoned
here?" "Thank you, my lord. Yes, I ken that
the horse was selt to Jock Paterson there; and he
appeared to me to be weel worth a' the siller he
gied for him."

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"Well, my sexagenarian friend Isaac," resumed "Hech, sirs! nae wonder, Peter, that you're Peter, "how do you know, or how can you satisfy blawing like a bursting haggis, after a' that blabber your mind as to the validity of the testimony upon o' words; you'll hae pitten a' the lair ye e'er got which your powers of perception have chosen to at the cottage in that speech, I'se warrant;— ye arbitrate so temerariously?" "Och, man! it would mind sin' you and I were at Claymire's school thetak you a lang time to ken as muckle about horses gether, what a poor fusionless whey-faced shawp as I do; ye would need to gang out and eat grasso' a creature you war', baith in soul and body, and wi' them for seven years, like auld Nebuchadnezzar, that you couldna spell your ain name!" "Do you afore ye learnt your lesson." know, then, any thing about the diseases that horses are predisposed to?" "Lang-winded is no ane o' them, at ony rate."

Peter was fairly put out, and got into a violent rage. "My lord, I have asked a plain question, and I must demand a categorical answer, or I shall move that the witness be committed for contempt of court." "I would advise you, Mr. Dudgeon," said the judge, "to put your questions in a more intelligible shape, and I have no doubt but the witness will give you a respectful answer." "That sairs you right, Peter," said the imperturbable Isaac, "and gin I had you in the muir o' Kippen, I would let ye fin' the weight o' that shakle-bane alang the side o' your head-and mak thae hornshottle teeth in your mouth dance the Dusty Miller. Ony mair to spin, ye manifest piece o' impudence?" "What do you know about the value of a horse?" resumed Peter. "I wonder what I should ken about, if I didna ken about horse-I may say born and brought up amang them-mair than ye can say, Mr. Peter, o' the profession ye hae taen by the hand." "Have you made it your business to become acquainted with the veterinary art, whether as applied to the general anatomy of the horse, or the moral and physical habits of this useful animal; and, to attain the requisite degree of knowledge, have you studied carefully the article on that subject in the Encyclopædia Britannica, and most particularly, as in the minutiae of detail on the subject, have you bought from your bookseller, a copy of the work, entitled The Horse, published under the sanction and patronage of the society denominating themselves, The Society for Diffusing Useful Knowledge, and made it your study by night and by day?"

"From your knowledge of the veterinary art, and the profound attention that you have bestowed on the subject, would you presume to say, that a horse's hoof might be the seat of any latent, unmanifested ailment-disease-malady-gangrene or tumor protected though it be by the crust or wall of the foot, without being visible to the ocular faculty? Now?"

66

"Did ye hear the thunder down there, lads? Ye may be verra thankfu', Mr. Dudgeon, that ye haena mony teeth left in the front o' your mouth, or thae big words could never hae gotten out." Really, Mr. Dudgeon," said the Judge, "you are taking up too much time of the court, by useless preliminaries. If you have any of your young men in court, would you allow one of them to take up the examination?" "Very well, my lord."

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William, take up this brief, or case, and farther interrogate that incorrigible carter." "Witness! the next question in my brief or case,-and recollect you are still upon oath, is-Do you suppose it possible for a disease or ailment to exist in the perforating flesh or tendon, without immediately manifesting itself in occasioning lameness by its action in the chamber of the hoof?" "Weel, my lordjudge, after a', are thae twa no a bonny pair? as the craw said o' his claws." The court became perfectly convulsed, so that the sheriff was himself obliged to finish the examinatior

A COOK'S LEGACY.

BY J. D. CARRICK.

BLEAK now the winter blaws, thick flee the driftin' | All the way hame though never so dreary,

snaws,

A' the warld looks cauld and blae ;

Birds wha used to sing, now wi' shiverin' wing,

Dozen'd sit on the frosted spray;

But though the wintry winds blaw keenly,
What are the wintry winds to me,
When by the kitchen fire sae cleanly,
My love is baking a pie for me!

Oh when I think on her cheeks sae greasy,
Oh when I think on her shoulders fat,
Never a lass have I seen like Leezy,
She makes my poor heart to go pitty-pat!

It charms my heart to think of thee;
How by the kitchen fire sae cheery,
My love is baking a pie for me.

Some yield their hearts to the charms of beauty,
Doating with pleasure upon her smile,

But when they've caught their long-wish'd booty,
"Twill neither make pat nor pan to boil;
And wi' their beauty they aft catch a Tartar-
Often it happens, as all may see:
Then for beauty, I'll scorn to barter

The maid that is baking a pie for me.

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"What a pleasant thing to see a man bein' sensible to the last! ony mair?" 'An' a crown for a cow's hide." "Ay," quoth the wife, "sensible yetweel, James, what was't ye was gaun to say?" "Nae mair," quoth James, "but I am ow'n Jock Tamson twa pounds in balance o' a cow." Hoot, toot," quoth the wife, "he's a ravin' now-he's just demented-dinna mind ony mair that he says."

66

ONCE 't was when I lived at Jena-
At a Wirthshaus' door I sat;
And in pensive contemplation,
Ate the sausage thick and fat;
Ate the kraut, that never sourer
Tasted to my lips than here;
Smoked my pipe of strong canaster,
Sipped my fifteenth jug of beer;
Gazed upon the glancing river,

THE STUDENT OF JENA.

BY W. E. AYTOUN (bon GaultieR).

Gazed upon the tranquil pool, Whence the silver-voiced Undine, When the nights were calm and cool,

As the Baron Fouqué tells us,

Rose from out her shelly grot,
Casting glamour o'er the waters,
Witching that enchanted spot.
From the shadow which the
coppice

Flings across the rippling stream,
Did I hear a sound of music-

Was it thought, or was it dream?
There, beside a pile of linen,

Stretched along the daisied sward,
Stood a young and blooming maiden-
'Twas her thrush-like song I heard.
Evermore within the eddy

Did she plunge the white chemise; And her robes were loosely gathered Rather far above her knees;

Then my breath at once forsook me,
For too surely did I deem
That I saw the fair Undine

Standing in the glancing stream— And I felt the charm of knighthood; And from that remembered day, Every evening to the Wirthshaus

Took I my enchanted way. Shortly to relate my story,

Many a week of summer long, Came I there, when beer-o'ertaken, With my lute and with my song; Sung in mellow-toned soprano

All my love and all my woe, Till the river-maiden answered, Lilting in the stream below:"Fair Undine! sweet Undine!

Dost thou love as I love thee?" "Love is free as running water," Was the answer made to me.

Thus, in interchange seraphic,
Did I woo my phantom fay,
Till the nights grew long and chilly,
Short and shorter grew the day;
Till at last-'t was dark and gloomy,
Dull and starless was the sky,
And my steps were all unsteady,
For a little flushed was I,-
To the well accustomed signal
No response the maiden gave;
But I heard the waters washing,
And the moaning of the wave.

Vanished was my own Undine, All her linen, too, was gone And I walked about lamenting, On the river bank alone.

Idiot that I was, for never

Had I asked the maiden's name. Was it Lieschen-was it Gretchen ? Had she tin, or whence she came ?

So I took my trusty meerschaum, And I took my lute likewise; Wandered forth in minstrel fashion, Underneath the lowering skies; Sang before each comely Wirthshaus, Sang beside each purling stream, That same ditty which I chanted When Undine was my theme, Singing, as I sang at Jena,

When the shifts were hung to dry, "Fair Undine! young Undine!

Dost thou love as well as I?"

But, alas! in field or village,

Or beside the pebbly shore, Did I see those glancing ankles,

And the white robe, never more; And no answer came to greet me, No sweet voice to mine replied; But I heard the waters rippling, And the moaning of the tide.

"The moaning of the TIED."

MY WIFE'S COUSIN.

DECKED with shoes of blackest polish,
And with shirt as white as snow,
After matutinal breakfast

To my daily desk I go;
First a fond salute bestowing
On my Mary's ruby lips,
Which, perchance, may be rewarded
With a pair of playful nips.

All day long across the ledger
Still my patient pen I drive,
Thinking what a feast awaits me
In my happy home at five;
In my small, one-storied Eden,
Where my wife awaits my coming,
And our solitary handmaid

Mutton chops with care is crumbing.

When the clock proclaims my freedom,
Then my hat I seize and vanish;
Every trouble from my bosom,
Every anxious care I banish.
Swiftly brushing o'er the pavement,
At a furious pace I go,
Ι

Till I reach my darling dwelling

"

In the wilds of Pimlico.

BY W. E. AYTOUN.

'Mary, wife, where art thou, dearest ?"

Thus I cry, while yet afar;

Ah! what scent invades my nostrils?"Tis the smoke of a cigar!

Instantly into the parlor
Like a maniac I haste,

And I find a young Life-Guardsman,
With his arm round Mary's waist.

And his other hand is playing
Most familiarly with hers;
And I think my Brussels carpet
Somewhat damaged by his spurs.
"Fire and furies! what the blazes!"
Thus in frenzied wrath I call;
When my spouse her arms upraises,
With the most astounding squall.

"Was there ever such a monster,
Ever such a wretched wife?
Ah! how long must I endure it,
How protract this hateful life?
All day long, quite unprotected,
Does he leave his wife at home,
And she cannot see her cousins,
Even when they kindly come!"

Then the young Life-Guardsman, rising,
Scarce vouchsafes a single word,
But with look of deadly menace,
Claps his hand upon his sword;
And in fear I faintly falter-

"This your cousin, then he's mine! Very glad, indeed, to see you— Won't you stop with us, and dine?"

Won't a ferret suck a rabbit?

As a thing of course he stops; And with most voracious swallow Walks into my mutton chops. In the twinkling of a bed-post, Is each savory platter clear, And he shows uncommon science In his estimate of beer.

Half-and-half goes down before him,
Gurgling from the pewter-pot;
And he moves a counter motion
For a glass of something hot.
Neither chops nor beer I grudge him,
Nor a moderate share of goes;
But I know not why he's always
Treading upon Mary's toes.

Evermore, when, home returning,
From the counting-house I come,
Do I find the young Life-Guardsman
Smoking pipes and drinking rum.
Evermore he stays to dinner,
Evermore devours my meal;
For I have a wholesome horror
Both of powder and of steel.

Yet I know he's Mary's cousin,
For my only son and heir

Much resembles that young Guardsman,
With the self-same curly hair;
But I wish he would not always
Spoil my carpet with his spurs ;
And I'd rather see his fingers

In the fire, than touching hers.

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