Tam turned up a yellow ee, Ha, ha, the brewin’ o’t! “Man, ye’re fou as fou can be;” Ha, ha, the brewin’ o’t! “Weel, an’, laddie, gin I am, Div ye think I care a----Tam! I am nae teetotal lamb!” Ha, ha, the brewin’ o’t! “Haud yer havers! Wha’s T. T.? Ha, ha, the brewin’ o’t! What! A Sober Scot like me? Ha, ha, the brewin’ o’t! I, my lad, like ither men, Lo’e a drappie noo and then; I am free at noon, ye ken.” Ha, ha, the brewin’ o’t! Hoo it cam’ let wise men tell, Ha, ha, the brewin’ o’t! While they cracked the clock struck twal’, Ha, ha, the brewin’ o’t! Will filled up a glass an’, faith, Tammas took it, naethin’ laith, Noo they’re fou an’ canty baith, Ha, ha, the brewin’ o’t. [Illustration: STERN PULPIT-CRITICS _First Scot._ “Fat sort o’ minister hae ye gotten, Geordie?” _Second Ditto._ “Oh, weel, he’s no muckle worth. We seldom get a glint o’ him. Sax days o’ th’ week he’s envees’ble, and on the seventh he’s encomprehens’ble!!”] [Illustration: “GOOD INTENTIONS” _Scot (on Waterloo Bridge)._ “Hech! To think I save a bawbee every time I cross this bonny brig! I’ll just pit it in the plate the next time I gang t’ the kirk!”] [Illustration: CATECHISM UNDER DIFFICULTIES _Free Kirk Elder (preparatory to presenting a tract)._ “My friend, do you know the chief end of man?” _Piper (innocently)._ “Na, I dinna mind the chune! Can ye no whustle it?”!!] * * * * * COMPANION SIGN TO THE “WELSH HARP.”--The “Scots Fiddle.” * * * * * WUT AT WIMBLEDON.--A Scots volunteer, one of the knot of critics round the firing-point where the line-prizes were being shot for, on asking, with some contempt in his voice, “Whaur thae lads come frae?” and being told “Aldershot,” was heard to mutter, complacently. “Hech, sirs! Aulder shots sud be better shots I’m thinkin’!” * * * * * [Illustration: “THE OLD ADAM.”--_The Minister (coming on them unawares)._ “E-e-h! Sandy McDougal! Ah’m sorry to see this! And you too, Wully! Fishin’ o’ the Sawbath! Ah thoucht ah’d enstellet better prenciples----” (_A Rise._) “E-e-eh! Wully, man!--ye hae’m!--it’s entil’m! Haud up yer r-rod, man--or ye’ll lose’m--tak’ car-r-re!----” [_Recollects himself, and walks off._] A NEW “ADDRESS TO THE DEIL” (_A long way after Robbie Burns_) Oh, thou! whatever name, great Sir, Prince Lucio, or plain Lucifer, As up-to-date, thou may’st prefer,-- They’re nane great catches, Whether derived frae classic or Frae brimstone matches!-- Hear me, great Alias, for a wee! The leddies winna let thee be. Ye’d think sma’ pleasure it could gie, E’en to she-novelist, To drag thee frae the obscuritee Wherein thou grovellest.