_Bailie McScrew (to Smith, on a short visit to the North)._ “An’ what are ye daen’ to-morrow nicht, Mester Smeth?” _Smith._ “To-morrow? Oh, nothing particular.” _Bailie._ “An’ the next nicht?” _Smith._ “Ah! on Friday I’m to dine with the Browns----” _Bailie._ “Man, that’s a petty! Aw was gaun t’ ask ye to tak’ yer denner wi’ us o’ Friday!!”] [Illustration: IN VINO MEMORIA _Major Portsoken (a pretty constant guest)._ “I say, Buchanan, this isn’t--(_another sip_)--the same champagne----!” _Scots Butler._ “Na, that’s a’ dune! There was thrutty dizzen; and ye’ve had yere share o’t, major!!”] [Illustration: TITLES TO DISTINCTION _Passenger (from the South, waking up)._ “Pray, sir, what station is this?” _Native._ “Thes es Paisley, sir!--Paisley! Celebrated toon, sir!--Berrth-place o’ th’ poat Tannahul, sir! And--’hem?--ah’m a Paisley man mysel’, sir! Ah was born i’ Paisley--ah was----” [_Luckily the train had now run into the station, and stopped._] [Illustration: A PRACTICAL VIEW _First Parishioner (to recently-appointed Minister)._ “Verra gled to fall in wi’ ye, sir, an’ mak’ yer acqua’ntance! I hinna been at the kirk syne ye cam’, as I wis in Ross-shire.” _Parson._ “Well, I am very pleased to meet you. You may have heard whether my serm----” _Parishioner._ “Oh, a’ the fowk are greatly taken wi’ yer menners an’ appearance, yer attention to the puir bodies o’ the parish, yer visitin’ the sick, an’----wha cares for preachin’!”] This lenitive application did good, for the congregation sat quiet, and coughed no more than they would have dared to do had they been in presence of the Queen, or any other great person, instead of being in a mere church. But one seat-holder, though he held his seat, could not hold his tongue, and declared that the congregation was insulted. We suspect that the minister knew best. In fact, had the incident occurred anywhere but in Scotland, where every man is proverbially sober, we should have been sure that the minister knew best. Hurrah, for the toddy of Bonnie Dundee! [Illustration: COMMERCIAL INSTINCT _Dugald._ “Did ye hear that Sawney McNab was ta’en up for stealin’ a coo?” _Donald._ “Hoot, toot, the stipit bodie! Could he no bocht it an’ no paid for’t?”] SPORTIVE SONGS (_An enamoured Southron endeavours to address a Highland Damsel in her own tongue_) Yon sky is bonny blue, fair lass, But you boast bluer een; Yon sun is bricht the noo, fair lass, Your locks hae brichter sheen; The fowl ahint the windy scaur Flees to its hame awa’, But, oh! my heart is fleeter far Whene’er I hear you ca’. The cushat seeks the hazel broch Therein his mate to woo, But I hie to the mountain loch To lilt my lays o’ lo’e. For here it was I speered you first In a’ your pride o’ race, You set my ardent soul athirst When I gazed on your face!