We had observed some beautiful streams, and blue glimpses of lakes on the road to McGibbet's, and just beyond his house was a larger lake, several miles in extent, with picturesque hills on either side, indented-with coves, and studded with islands, sometimes stretching away to distant slopes of green turf, and sometimes reflecting masses of precipitous rock, crowned with the spiry tops of spruces and firs. Indeed, all the country around, both meadow and upland, was very pleasing to the sight. A low range of hills skirted the northern part of what seemed to be a spacious, natural amphitheatre, while on the south side a diversity of highlands and water added to the whole the charm of variety. "You have a fine country about you, Mr. McGibbet," said I. "Ay," he replied. "And what is it called here?" "We ca' it Get-Along!" said Robbut, with an intensely Scotch accent on the "Get." "And yonder beautiful lake--what is the name of that?" said I, in hopes of taking refuge behind something more euphonious. "Oh! ay," replied he, "that's just Get-Along, too. We doan't usually speak of it, but whan we do, we just ca' it Get-Along Lake, and it's not good for much." I thought it best to change the subject. "Do you like this as well as the oat-cake?" said I, with my mouth full of the dry, husky provender. "Nae," said McGibbet, with an equine shake of the head, "it's not sae fellin." Not so filling! Think of that, ye pampered minions of luxury, who live only upon delicate viands; who prize food, not as it useful, but as it is tasteful; who can even encourage a depraved, sensual appetite so far as to appreciate flavor; who enjoy meats, fish, and poultry, only as they minister to your palates; who flirt with spring-chickens and trifle with sweet-breads in wanton indolence, without a thought of your cubic capacity; without a reflection that you can live just as well upon so many square inches of oatmeal a day as you can upon the most elaborate French kickshaws; nay, that you can be elevated to the level of a scientific problem, and work out your fillings, with nothing to guide you but a slate and pencil! "Then you like oatmeal better than this?" said Picton, soothing down a husky lump, with a cup of milk. "Ay," responded McGibbet. "And you always eat it, whenever you can get it, I suppose?" continued Picton, with a most innocent air. "Ay," responded McGibbet. "I should think some of you Scotchmen would be afraid of contracting a disease that is engendered in the system by the use of this sort of grain. I hope, Mr. McGibbet," said Picton, with imperturbable coolness, "you keep clear of the bots, and that sort of thing, you know?" "Kwat?" said Robbut, with the most startled, horse-like look he had yet put on. "The gasterophili," replied Picton, "which I would advise you to steer clear of, if you want to live long."