[Ill.u.s.tration: PROMISING!

_Tourist._ "Have you any decent cigars?"

_Highland Grocer._ "Decent cigars? Ay, here are decent cigars enough."

_Tourist._ "Are they Havanahs, or Manillas?"

_Highland Grocer._ "They're just from Kircaldy!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE MISS"

_Gillie._ "Eh, mon! But it's fortunate there's beef in Aberdeen!"]

MR. BRIGGS IN THE HIGHLANDS

_By_ JOHN LEECH

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mr. Briggs, feeling that his heart is in the Highlands a-chasing the deer, starts for the North.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Before going out, Mr. Briggs and his friends have a quiet chat about deer-stalking generally. He listens with much interest to some pleasing anecdotes about the little incidents frequently met with--such as b.a.l.l.s going through caps--toes being shot off!--occasionally being gored by the antlers of infuriate stags, &c., &c., &c.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mr. Briggs, previous to going through his course of deer-stalking, a.s.sists the forester in getting a hart or two for the house. Donald is requesting our friend to hold the animal down by the horns.

[N.B. The said animal is as strong as a bull, and uses his legs like a race-horse.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The deer are driven for Mr. Briggs. He has an excellent place, but what with waiting by himself so long, the murmur of the stream, the beauty of the scene, and the novelty of the situation, he falls asleep, and while he takes his forty winks, the deer pa.s.s!]

[Ill.u.s.tration: As the wind is favourable, the deer are driven again.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mr. Briggs is suddenly face to face with the monarch of the glen! He is so astonished that he omits to fire his rifle.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: To-day he goes out for a stalk, and Donald shows Mr.

Briggs the way!]

[Ill.u.s.tration: After a good deal of climbing, our friend gets to the top of Ben-something-or-other, and the forester looks out to see if there are any deer on the hills. Yes! several hinds, and perhaps the finest hart that ever was seen.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: To get at him, they are obliged to go a long way round.

Before they get down, the shower, peculiar to the country, overtakes them, so they "shelter a-wee."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: With extraordinary perseverance they come within shot of "the finest hart." Mr. B. is out of breath, afraid of slipping, and wants to blow his nose (quite out of the question), otherwise he is tolerably comfortable.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: After aiming for a quarter of an hour, Mr. B. fires both his barrels--and--misses!!!! _Tableau_--The forester's anguish]

[Ill.u.s.tration: The royal hart Mr. Briggs did NOT hit.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mr. Briggs has another day's stalking, and his rifle having gone off sooner than he expected, he kills a stag. As it is his first, he is made free of the forest by the process customary on the hills!--]

[Ill.u.s.tration: And returns home in triumph. He is a little knocked up, but after a nap, will, no doubt, go through the broad-sword dance in the evening as usual.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: MR. BRIGGS GROUSE SHOOTING

9 A.M. His arrival on the moor.--Mr. Briggs says that the fine bracing air makes him so vigorous that he shall never be beat. He also facetiously remarks that he is on "his native heath", and that his "name is Macgregor!"

[_The result of the day's sport will be communicated by electric telegraph._

SKETCHES FROM SCOTLAND

AT THE DRUMQUHIDDER HIGHLAND GATHERING.

SCENE--_A meadow near Drumquhidder, South Perthshire, where the annual Highland Games are being held. The programme being a long one, there are generally three events being contested in various parts of the ground at the same time. On the benches immediately below the Grand Stand are seated two Drumquhidder worthies_, MR.

PARRITCH _and_ MR. HAVERS, _with_ MRS. McTAVISH _and her niece, two acquaintances from Glasgow, to whom they are endeavouring--not altogether successfully--to make themselves agreeable_.

_Mr. Havers_ (_in allusion to the dozen or so of drags, landaus, and waggonettes on the ground_). There's a number o' machines hier the day, Messis McTarvish, an' a wonderfu' crood; there'll be a bit scarceness ower on yon side, but a gey many a'thegither. I conseeder we're jest awfu' forrtunate in the day an' a'.

[_Mrs. McTavish a.s.sents, but without enthusiasm._

_Mr. Parritch._ I've jist ben keekin into the Refraishmen' Tent. It's an awfu' peety they're no pairmeetin' ony intoaxicans--naethin' but non-alcohoalic liquors an' sic like, an' the hawm-sawndwiches no verra tender. (_With gallantry._) What do ye say, noo, Messis McTarvish--wull ye no come an' tak' a bite wi' me?

_Mrs. McTavish (distantly)._ Ah'm no feelin' able for't jist the noo, Mester Pairritch.

_Mr. Parr._ Ye'll hae a boatle o' leemonade at my expense? Ye'll no?

Then ye wull, Mess Rawse. (_With relief, as Miss Rose declines also._) Aweel, I jist thocht I'd pit the quaistion. (_To a friend of his, who joins them._) An' hoo's a' wi' ye, Mester McKerrow? Ye're a member o'

the Cawmittee, I obsairve, sae I'll hae to keck up a bet row wi' ye.

_Mr. McKerrow (unconcernedly)._ Then ye'll jist to hae to keck it doon again. What's wrang the noo?

_Mr. Parr._ I'd like to ask ye if ye conseeder it fair or jest to charrge us tippence every time we'd go aff the groon? Man, it's jist an extoartion.

_Mr. McKerr._ I'm no responsible for't; but, if I'd ben there, I'd ha'

chairged ye twa sh.e.l.lins; sae ye'd better say nae mair aboot the maitter.

[_Mr. Parritch does not pursue the subject._

_Mr. Havers (as a detachment of the Black Watch Highlanders conclude an exhibition of musical drill)._ Ye'll be the baiter o' haeing the Block Wetch hier the day. Man, they gie us a colour! It's verra pretty hoo nicely they can pairforrm the drill.... An' noo them sojers is gaun to rin a bet race amang theirsels. This'll be an extry cawmpeteetion, I doot. (_As the race is being run._) It's no a verra suitable dress for rinnin'--the spleughan--or "sporran", is it?--hairrts them tairible.

_Mr. McKerr. (contradictiously)._ The sporran does na hairrt them at a'.