[Ill.u.s.tration: 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!]

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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 La.s.sie._ "Oh, jist onything!"

_H. S._ (_rubbing his hands in antic.i.p.ation_). "Ah! Now we'll have a nice juicy steak."

_La.s.sie._ "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."

_La.s.sie._ "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_ a.s.sures 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 pa.s.s--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 c.u.mber-- 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!

[Ill.u.s.tration: The sad fate of our only ham.--The pursuit.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "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'!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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!!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mr. Punch pa.s.ses a night at McGillie Cullum Castle.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Laird, as a delicate compliment, serenades him.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A BAD SEASON

_Sportsman._ "I can a.s.sure 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!!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: CANDID

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

_Boy_ (_who has brought the luncheon-basket_). "Na! The cooark wadna come oot!"]