"WINGED"

WINGED"WINGED"First Gael."What's the matter, Tonal?"Second ditto (who had been out with Old Briggs)."Matter! Hur legs is full o' shoots".

First Gael."What's the matter, Tonal?"

Second ditto (who had been out with Old Briggs)."Matter! Hur legs is full o' shoots".

THE HIGHLAND GAMESMR. PUNCH AT THE HIGHLAND GAMESShows the natives how to "put the stone."

Shows the natives how to "put the stone."

I'll paint that bedsteadAN ARTIST SCAMP IN THE HIGHLANDSArtist (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?"

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?"

À 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, acharming boy—un charmant garçon—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—bouclés, 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-à-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—découverte—seems to me well unuseful in a country where he falls of rain without cease.

Before to start I demand of all the world somerenseignementson 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 voilà—and see there—thebreackhas 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 thehead 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 sé, mébi huile no hé meukl the dé." 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. "Mébi oui taque toua hours", says he; "beutt yile no fache yoursel, its no sé 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 ça veut dire"twelve"—douze. Twelve hours on abreackin a such climate! Ah, no!C'est trop fort—it istoo 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 amentouré—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 baïd 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.

ZEALZEALSaxon 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'"

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'"

THRIFTTHRIFTPeebles 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—wentsaxpence!!!"

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—wentsaxpence!!!"

A SATISFACTORY SOLUTIONA 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!"

"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!"

VITA FUMUS"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!!"

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!!"

PRECAUTIONSPRECAUTIONSSaxon 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'!"

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'!"

HIS POUND OF FLESHHIS POUND OF FLESHFinancier (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!"

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!"

SCRUPULOUSSCRUPULOUSShepherd."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!!"

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!!"

THE LAND OF LORN"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!!"

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!!"

LOCALLOCALSunday MorningTourist (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!"

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!"

À Monsieur Punch

Dear Mister,—I have spoken you of my departure from Calendar on thebreack. Eh, well, he rained not of the whole of the whole—du toutdu 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 Scottishtwais 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 seasontout à 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!PartoutI 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 idée!But no, before me I perceive a dish ofconfiture, 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, myfaith, 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 abreack, and before to embark, we take the "lunch." We bargain not, we ask not even the price, we eat at thetable d'hôtelike 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 therestaurants—mon Dieu!—of the english railways, but never, never—au grand jamais—have I eaten adéjeunerlike 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.

CANNY"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."

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."

CAUTIOUSCAUTIOUSVisitor (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!"

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!"

A DECIDED OPINIONA DECIDED OPINIONProprietor 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!"

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!"

missing his fourth stagChappie (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?"

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?"

CartoonOur artist catches it again this winter in the Highlands.

Our artist catches it again this winter in the Highlands.

A FINE HEADA 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!

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!

A "SCENE" IN THE HIGHLANDSA "SCENE" IN THE HIGHLANDSIll-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!!"

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!!"

IN THE HIGHLANDSMR. PUNCH IN THE HIGHLANDSHe is at present on a boating excursion, and describes the motion as extremely pleasant, and has no dread of sea-sickness.

He is at present on a boating excursion, and describes the motion as extremely pleasant, and has no dread of sea-sickness.

"GAME" IN THE HIGHLANDS"GAME" IN THE HIGHLANDSCaptain 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."

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."

takes a siestaLavinia takes a siesta,

Lavinia takes a siesta,

the frightful situationAnd the frightful situation she finds herself in at the end of it.

And the frightful situation she finds herself in at the end of it.

arrives at a waterfallLavinia 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.

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.

A bright ideaA bright idea strikes the shepherd, and before Lavinia can remonstrate, he transports her, in the usual manner, to the other side.

A bright idea strikes the shepherd, and before Lavinia can remonstrate, he transports her, in the usual manner, to the other side.

MISS LAVINIA BROUNJONESMISS LAVINIA BROUNJONESShe 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!

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!

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 landWhere 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 werede trop,And envied the folk of BahamasWho 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!

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 werede trop,And envied the folk of BahamasWho 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!

For weeks I have sat in pyjamas,

And found even these werede 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 cloudedIn the gloom of a sad weeping day,The desolate mountains are shroudedIn palls of funereal grey;'Mid the skirl of the wild wintry weatherThe torrents descend in a sheetAs we shiver all huddled togetherIn the reek of the smouldering peat.A plague on the Highlands! to think ofThe heat that but lately we banned;Oh! what would we give for a blink ofThe bright sunny side of the Strand!To think there are folk that still revelIn Summer, and fling themselves down,In the Park, or St. James? What the d——Possessed us to hurry from town?

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 ofThe heat that but lately we banned;Oh! what would we give for a blink ofThe bright sunny side of the Strand!To think there are folk that still revelIn Summer, and fling themselves down,In the Park, or St. James? What the d——Possessed us to hurry from town?

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'!"

OVERHEARD IN THE HIGHLANDSOVERHEARD IN THE HIGHLANDSFirst 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 Scotchmenwhat we are!!"

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 Scotchmenwhat we are!!"

SERMONS IN STONES"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!!"

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!!"

JETSAM AND FLOTSAMJETSAM AND FLOTSAMSmith being shut out from the Continent this year, takes a cottage ornée on Dee-Side. Scotland. The children are sent up first. The house is described as "conveniently furnished"—they find it so!

Smith being shut out from the Continent this year, takes a cottage ornée on Dee-Side. Scotland. The children are sent up first. The house is described as "conveniently furnished"—they find it so!

WILDS OF THE NORTHIN 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.

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.

TheNorth British Mailassures 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.

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 stirringTo the North, may dogs borrow;But the Duke gives no hearing,No pass—but to sorrow.The hand of the touristGrasps the carpet-bag grimly,But a face of the dourestFrowns through the Glen dimly.The autumn winds, rushing,Stir a kilt of the queerest,Duke and gillies come crushingWhere 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!

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 touristGrasps the carpet-bag grimly,But a face of the dourestFrowns through the Glen dimly.The autumn winds, rushing,Stir a kilt of the queerest,Duke and gillies come crushingWhere pleasure is nearest!

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!

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!

The pursuitThe sad fate of our only ham.—The pursuit.

The sad fate of our only ham.—The pursuit.

A RARA MONGRELLISA RARA MONGRELLISTourist."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."

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."

IN FOR IT"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'!"

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'!"

A BLANK DAYA BLANK DAYThe 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!!"

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!!"

Mr. Punch passes a night

The Laird serenades him

Mr. Punch passes a night atMcGillie Cullum Castle.

The Laird, as a delicate compliment, serenades him.

A BAD SEASONA BAD SEASONSportsman."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!!"

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!!"

CANDIDCANDIDSportsman."Boy, you've been at this whiskey!"Boy(who has brought the luncheon-basket). "Na! The cooark wadna come oot!"

Sportsman."Boy, you've been at this whiskey!"

Boy(who has brought the luncheon-basket). "Na! The cooark wadna come oot!"

UNCO CANNY"UNCO CANNY"Noble Sportsman."Missed, eh?"Cautious Keeper."Weel, a' wadna gang quite sae faur as to say that; but a' doot ye hay'naexactlyhit."

Noble Sportsman."Missed, eh?"

Cautious Keeper."Weel, a' wadna gang quite sae faur as to say that; but a' doot ye hay'naexactlyhit."

Those Scotch hotels! Those Scotch hotelsAre fit for princes and for swells;But their high charges don't agreeWith humbler travellers like me.Twelve shillings daily for my boardIs 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!

Those Scotch hotels! Those Scotch hotelsAre fit for princes and for swells;But their high charges don't agreeWith humbler travellers like me.

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 boardIs more than I can well afford,For this includes nor ale nor wine,Whereof I drink some when I dine.

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.

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.

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!

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!

DIFFERENT MATTERA VERY DIFFERENT MATTERSouthern 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!"

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!"

Mr P in Highland Dress

BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE.

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