SCOTLAND YET

SCOTLAND YETWhat’s a’ the steer? Why, man, ye see,Kinghorn is on its mettle,The connysoor o’ ilka eeFrae Anster tae Kingskettle.We’ll show the warl’ a twa-three thingsAn’ let it ken the morn, man,What way we coronate oor kingsIn loyal auld Kinghorn, man.There’ll be the Provost, robes an’ a’—’Twill be as guid’s a play, sir:I’m tell’t he’s boucht a dicky brawIn honour o’ the day, sir.Then, dressed in a’ their Sabbath coats,Wi’ collars newly stairchitAn’ stickin’ up intil their throats,The Bailies will be mairchit.An’ next the Toon Brass Band ye’ll see,In scarlet coats an’ braid tae,An’ then the hale I.O.G.T.,Forbye the Fire Brigade tae.There’ll be an awfu’ crood, ye ken,Sae, as we mairch alang, man,We’ll hae twa extry pólicemenTae clear awa’ the thrang, man.An’ then at nicht—why, ilka aneHas emptied oot his pockets,An’ mony a guid bawbee has gaenIn crackers, squibs an’ rockets.Eh, but I’d tak’ my aith on this—The King’ll be gey sweer, man,Tae bide at hame the morn an’ missOor collieshangie here, man.Although I’m tell’t in Lunnon taeThey’ve got a Coronation,An’ even Cockneys mean tae haeTheir wee bit celebration;But eh! I doot yon show’ll beDisjaskit an’ forlorn, man,Beside the bonny sichts ye’ll seeIn loyal auld Kinghorn, man.JUDGING BY APPEARANCESOld Scots Wife.“Losh me! There’s a maun drenkin’ oot o’ twa boattles at ance!!”[The old gentleman was trying his new binocular, a Christmas present to his nephew.“A NARROW ESCAPE”(FRAGMENT OVERHEARD THE OTHER DAY)“Well, Lauchie, how are you?”“Man, I’m wonderfu’ weel, considerin’.”“Considerin’—what?”“I did last nicht what I’ve no dune this thirty year. I gaed to bedpairfutly sober, and I’m thankfu’ to say I got up this mornin’no a bit the waur.”SCRUPLESEnglish Tourist (having arrived at Greenock on Sunday morning).“My man, what’s your charge for rowing me across the frith?”Boatman.“Weel, sir, I was jist thinkin’ I canna break the Sawbath-day for no less than f’fteen shull’n’s!!”“WHOLESALE”Scot (to Fellow-Traveller on Northern Railway).“May ah ausk what line ye’re en?”Our Artist (who had undergone a wide cross-examination with complaisance).“Well—I’m—I’m a painter.”Scot.“Man, that’s lucky! Ah deal i’ pents—an’ ah can sall ye white leed faur cheaper than ye can buy’t at ony o’ the shoaps.”Artist.“Oh, but I use very little. A pound or so serves me over a year.”Scot.“E——h, man! Ye maun be in a vera sma’ way o’ beezeness!!”SONG OF A LONDON SCOT.Baker, baker, strike awa’;Ye’ll na gar me greet, mon.Ken that I defy ye a’;Though bread grow dear as meat, mon.Aits are baith bread an’ meat to me,Wha dinna keep my carriage.Mysel, forbye the barley-bree,Can live richt weel on parritch.THE CLYDE.—BEAUTIES OF SCOTTISH SCENERY AS SEEN BY OUR ARTIST.TOO CANDID BY HALFVisitor (to newly-married friend).“I was admiring your little carriage, Mrs. McLuckie, so——”Mrs. McLuckie.“Oh, the brougham! Yes; you’ve no idea what a comfort I find it——”Mr. McLuckie.“Oo aye! It’s gey handy! We’ve jist jobbit the cab for the coorse weather!!”CAUTIONHost.“Just another wee drap ’fore you go——”Guest.“Na, na, I’ll tak’ nae mair! I’m in a new lodgin’, and I’m no vera weel acquainted wi’ the stair!!”“AULD EDINBRO’”Saxon Traveller.“This is too bad, waiter! I told you we wanted to go by the 9.30 train, and here’s breakfast not ready!”Celtic Waiter.“A weel, sir, fac’ is, the cook tak’s a gless!”Scotland for Ever!—Benjamin Barking Creek (thinking he is going to pull the mighty leg of MacTavish).But you must allow that the national emblem of your country is the thistle.The MacTavish.And for why? Because we grow it for ye Southrons to eat![Exit B. B. C.“BENEATH THE LOWEST DEEP”Swell.“Ah, Port-ar, is this twain—ah—composed entirely of second-class cawwiages?!”Glasgow Porter.“Na, na, man, there’s a wheen third-cless anes further forrit there!!”At Redrufus Castle.—The Duchess of Stony Cross (to Mrs. MacShoddy, who is returning a duty call).The Duke has actually consented to be Mayor of Crankborough in succession to poor Mr. Slitt.Mrs. MacShoddy.Well! that’ll be very nice for you! You’resureto be invited to the Mansion House in London during the season!A Scot on Sweet Sounds.—A’ music whatever is o’ Scottish origin an’ derivation. It a’ cam Sooth frae ayont the Tweed. A’ music just resolves itsel’ intil a meexture o’ Tweed-ledum an’ Tweedle-Dee—the Scottish Dee.The oreeginal St. Cecilia was a Miss MacWhirter. She invented the Bagpipes.Rejected Medical Advice (by a Scotsman).—“Try your native air.”In Scotland, it is not permitted even to whistle on the Sunday. My friend, Wagg, tells me, however, that “youmustwhistle for what you want.” I remark this contradiction. But they are an obstinate race, the Scots.Mrs. Golightly (fishing for a compliment).“Ah! Mr. McJoseph,beautyis the most precious of all gifts for awoman! I’d sooner possessbeautythan anything in the world!”Mr. McJoseph (under the impression that he is making himself very agreeable).“I’msure, Mrs. Golightly, thatanyregret you may possibly feel onthatscore must be amply compensated for by—er—the consciousness of yourmoral worth, you know,—and of your variousmentalaccomplishments!”Jink.“My dear MacFuddle, it’s the very thing you want! Charming house—lovely spot! Cheap, too. But one great drawback. You can’t get any water there!”MacFuddle.“Oh, that doesn’t matter!”REFRESHMENTHospitable Good Templar (to Visitor—average Scotsman).“Well, now, what will you tak’, Mac, after your walk—tea, or coffee, or pease-brose?”!![Comment is needless.

What’s a’ the steer? Why, man, ye see,Kinghorn is on its mettle,The connysoor o’ ilka eeFrae Anster tae Kingskettle.We’ll show the warl’ a twa-three thingsAn’ let it ken the morn, man,What way we coronate oor kingsIn loyal auld Kinghorn, man.There’ll be the Provost, robes an’ a’—’Twill be as guid’s a play, sir:I’m tell’t he’s boucht a dicky brawIn honour o’ the day, sir.Then, dressed in a’ their Sabbath coats,Wi’ collars newly stairchitAn’ stickin’ up intil their throats,The Bailies will be mairchit.An’ next the Toon Brass Band ye’ll see,In scarlet coats an’ braid tae,An’ then the hale I.O.G.T.,Forbye the Fire Brigade tae.There’ll be an awfu’ crood, ye ken,Sae, as we mairch alang, man,We’ll hae twa extry pólicemenTae clear awa’ the thrang, man.An’ then at nicht—why, ilka aneHas emptied oot his pockets,An’ mony a guid bawbee has gaenIn crackers, squibs an’ rockets.Eh, but I’d tak’ my aith on this—The King’ll be gey sweer, man,Tae bide at hame the morn an’ missOor collieshangie here, man.Although I’m tell’t in Lunnon taeThey’ve got a Coronation,An’ even Cockneys mean tae haeTheir wee bit celebration;But eh! I doot yon show’ll beDisjaskit an’ forlorn, man,Beside the bonny sichts ye’ll seeIn loyal auld Kinghorn, man.

What’s a’ the steer? Why, man, ye see,

Kinghorn is on its mettle,

The connysoor o’ ilka ee

Frae Anster tae Kingskettle.

We’ll show the warl’ a twa-three things

An’ let it ken the morn, man,

What way we coronate oor kings

In loyal auld Kinghorn, man.

There’ll be the Provost, robes an’ a’—’Twill be as guid’s a play, sir:I’m tell’t he’s boucht a dicky brawIn honour o’ the day, sir.Then, dressed in a’ their Sabbath coats,Wi’ collars newly stairchitAn’ stickin’ up intil their throats,The Bailies will be mairchit.

There’ll be the Provost, robes an’ a’—

’Twill be as guid’s a play, sir:

I’m tell’t he’s boucht a dicky braw

In honour o’ the day, sir.

Then, dressed in a’ their Sabbath coats,

Wi’ collars newly stairchit

An’ stickin’ up intil their throats,

The Bailies will be mairchit.

An’ next the Toon Brass Band ye’ll see,In scarlet coats an’ braid tae,An’ then the hale I.O.G.T.,Forbye the Fire Brigade tae.There’ll be an awfu’ crood, ye ken,Sae, as we mairch alang, man,We’ll hae twa extry pólicemenTae clear awa’ the thrang, man.

An’ next the Toon Brass Band ye’ll see,

In scarlet coats an’ braid tae,

An’ then the hale I.O.G.T.,

Forbye the Fire Brigade tae.

There’ll be an awfu’ crood, ye ken,

Sae, as we mairch alang, man,

We’ll hae twa extry pólicemen

Tae clear awa’ the thrang, man.

An’ then at nicht—why, ilka aneHas emptied oot his pockets,An’ mony a guid bawbee has gaenIn crackers, squibs an’ rockets.Eh, but I’d tak’ my aith on this—The King’ll be gey sweer, man,Tae bide at hame the morn an’ missOor collieshangie here, man.

An’ then at nicht—why, ilka ane

Has emptied oot his pockets,

An’ mony a guid bawbee has gaen

In crackers, squibs an’ rockets.

Eh, but I’d tak’ my aith on this—

The King’ll be gey sweer, man,

Tae bide at hame the morn an’ miss

Oor collieshangie here, man.

Although I’m tell’t in Lunnon taeThey’ve got a Coronation,An’ even Cockneys mean tae haeTheir wee bit celebration;But eh! I doot yon show’ll beDisjaskit an’ forlorn, man,Beside the bonny sichts ye’ll seeIn loyal auld Kinghorn, man.

Although I’m tell’t in Lunnon tae

They’ve got a Coronation,

An’ even Cockneys mean tae hae

Their wee bit celebration;

But eh! I doot yon show’ll be

Disjaskit an’ forlorn, man,

Beside the bonny sichts ye’ll see

In loyal auld Kinghorn, man.

JUDGING BY APPEARANCESOld Scots Wife.“Losh me! There’s a maun drenkin’ oot o’ twa boattles at ance!!”[The old gentleman was trying his new binocular, a Christmas present to his nephew.

JUDGING BY APPEARANCES

Old Scots Wife.“Losh me! There’s a maun drenkin’ oot o’ twa boattles at ance!!”

[The old gentleman was trying his new binocular, a Christmas present to his nephew.

“A NARROW ESCAPE”(FRAGMENT OVERHEARD THE OTHER DAY)“Well, Lauchie, how are you?”“Man, I’m wonderfu’ weel, considerin’.”“Considerin’—what?”“I did last nicht what I’ve no dune this thirty year. I gaed to bedpairfutly sober, and I’m thankfu’ to say I got up this mornin’no a bit the waur.”

“A NARROW ESCAPE”

(FRAGMENT OVERHEARD THE OTHER DAY)

“Well, Lauchie, how are you?”

“Man, I’m wonderfu’ weel, considerin’.”

“Considerin’—what?”

“I did last nicht what I’ve no dune this thirty year. I gaed to bedpairfutly sober, and I’m thankfu’ to say I got up this mornin’no a bit the waur.”

SCRUPLESEnglish Tourist (having arrived at Greenock on Sunday morning).“My man, what’s your charge for rowing me across the frith?”Boatman.“Weel, sir, I was jist thinkin’ I canna break the Sawbath-day for no less than f’fteen shull’n’s!!”

SCRUPLES

English Tourist (having arrived at Greenock on Sunday morning).“My man, what’s your charge for rowing me across the frith?”

Boatman.“Weel, sir, I was jist thinkin’ I canna break the Sawbath-day for no less than f’fteen shull’n’s!!”

“WHOLESALE”Scot (to Fellow-Traveller on Northern Railway).“May ah ausk what line ye’re en?”Our Artist (who had undergone a wide cross-examination with complaisance).“Well—I’m—I’m a painter.”Scot.“Man, that’s lucky! Ah deal i’ pents—an’ ah can sall ye white leed faur cheaper than ye can buy’t at ony o’ the shoaps.”Artist.“Oh, but I use very little. A pound or so serves me over a year.”Scot.“E——h, man! Ye maun be in a vera sma’ way o’ beezeness!!”

“WHOLESALE”

Scot (to Fellow-Traveller on Northern Railway).“May ah ausk what line ye’re en?”

Our Artist (who had undergone a wide cross-examination with complaisance).“Well—I’m—I’m a painter.”

Scot.“Man, that’s lucky! Ah deal i’ pents—an’ ah can sall ye white leed faur cheaper than ye can buy’t at ony o’ the shoaps.”

Artist.“Oh, but I use very little. A pound or so serves me over a year.”

Scot.“E——h, man! Ye maun be in a vera sma’ way o’ beezeness!!”

Baker, baker, strike awa’;Ye’ll na gar me greet, mon.Ken that I defy ye a’;Though bread grow dear as meat, mon.Aits are baith bread an’ meat to me,Wha dinna keep my carriage.Mysel, forbye the barley-bree,Can live richt weel on parritch.

Baker, baker, strike awa’;

Ye’ll na gar me greet, mon.

Ken that I defy ye a’;

Though bread grow dear as meat, mon.

Aits are baith bread an’ meat to me,

Wha dinna keep my carriage.

Mysel, forbye the barley-bree,

Can live richt weel on parritch.

THE CLYDE.—BEAUTIES OF SCOTTISH SCENERY AS SEEN BY OUR ARTIST.

TOO CANDID BY HALFVisitor (to newly-married friend).“I was admiring your little carriage, Mrs. McLuckie, so——”Mrs. McLuckie.“Oh, the brougham! Yes; you’ve no idea what a comfort I find it——”Mr. McLuckie.“Oo aye! It’s gey handy! We’ve jist jobbit the cab for the coorse weather!!”

TOO CANDID BY HALF

Visitor (to newly-married friend).“I was admiring your little carriage, Mrs. McLuckie, so——”

Mrs. McLuckie.“Oh, the brougham! Yes; you’ve no idea what a comfort I find it——”

Mr. McLuckie.“Oo aye! It’s gey handy! We’ve jist jobbit the cab for the coorse weather!!”

CAUTIONHost.“Just another wee drap ’fore you go——”Guest.“Na, na, I’ll tak’ nae mair! I’m in a new lodgin’, and I’m no vera weel acquainted wi’ the stair!!”

CAUTION

Host.“Just another wee drap ’fore you go——”

Guest.“Na, na, I’ll tak’ nae mair! I’m in a new lodgin’, and I’m no vera weel acquainted wi’ the stair!!”

“AULD EDINBRO’”Saxon Traveller.“This is too bad, waiter! I told you we wanted to go by the 9.30 train, and here’s breakfast not ready!”Celtic Waiter.“A weel, sir, fac’ is, the cook tak’s a gless!”

“AULD EDINBRO’”

Saxon Traveller.“This is too bad, waiter! I told you we wanted to go by the 9.30 train, and here’s breakfast not ready!”

Celtic Waiter.“A weel, sir, fac’ is, the cook tak’s a gless!”

Scotland for Ever!—Benjamin Barking Creek (thinking he is going to pull the mighty leg of MacTavish).But you must allow that the national emblem of your country is the thistle.

The MacTavish.And for why? Because we grow it for ye Southrons to eat!

[Exit B. B. C.

“BENEATH THE LOWEST DEEP”Swell.“Ah, Port-ar, is this twain—ah—composed entirely of second-class cawwiages?!”Glasgow Porter.“Na, na, man, there’s a wheen third-cless anes further forrit there!!”

“BENEATH THE LOWEST DEEP”

Swell.“Ah, Port-ar, is this twain—ah—composed entirely of second-class cawwiages?!”

Glasgow Porter.“Na, na, man, there’s a wheen third-cless anes further forrit there!!”

At Redrufus Castle.—The Duchess of Stony Cross (to Mrs. MacShoddy, who is returning a duty call).The Duke has actually consented to be Mayor of Crankborough in succession to poor Mr. Slitt.

Mrs. MacShoddy.Well! that’ll be very nice for you! You’resureto be invited to the Mansion House in London during the season!

A Scot on Sweet Sounds.—A’ music whatever is o’ Scottish origin an’ derivation. It a’ cam Sooth frae ayont the Tweed. A’ music just resolves itsel’ intil a meexture o’ Tweed-ledum an’ Tweedle-Dee—the Scottish Dee.

The oreeginal St. Cecilia was a Miss MacWhirter. She invented the Bagpipes.

Rejected Medical Advice (by a Scotsman).—“Try your native air.”

In Scotland, it is not permitted even to whistle on the Sunday. My friend, Wagg, tells me, however, that “youmustwhistle for what you want.” I remark this contradiction. But they are an obstinate race, the Scots.

Mrs. Golightly (fishing for a compliment).“Ah! Mr. McJoseph,beautyis the most precious of all gifts for awoman! I’d sooner possessbeautythan anything in the world!”Mr. McJoseph (under the impression that he is making himself very agreeable).“I’msure, Mrs. Golightly, thatanyregret you may possibly feel onthatscore must be amply compensated for by—er—the consciousness of yourmoral worth, you know,—and of your variousmentalaccomplishments!”

Mrs. Golightly (fishing for a compliment).“Ah! Mr. McJoseph,beautyis the most precious of all gifts for awoman! I’d sooner possessbeautythan anything in the world!”

Mr. McJoseph (under the impression that he is making himself very agreeable).“I’msure, Mrs. Golightly, thatanyregret you may possibly feel onthatscore must be amply compensated for by—er—the consciousness of yourmoral worth, you know,—and of your variousmentalaccomplishments!”

Jink.“My dear MacFuddle, it’s the very thing you want! Charming house—lovely spot! Cheap, too. But one great drawback. You can’t get any water there!”MacFuddle.“Oh, that doesn’t matter!”

Jink.“My dear MacFuddle, it’s the very thing you want! Charming house—lovely spot! Cheap, too. But one great drawback. You can’t get any water there!”

MacFuddle.“Oh, that doesn’t matter!”

REFRESHMENTHospitable Good Templar (to Visitor—average Scotsman).“Well, now, what will you tak’, Mac, after your walk—tea, or coffee, or pease-brose?”!![Comment is needless.

REFRESHMENT

Hospitable Good Templar (to Visitor—average Scotsman).“Well, now, what will you tak’, Mac, after your walk—tea, or coffee, or pease-brose?”!!

[Comment is needless.

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