An’ mony a laddie’s hert was sair; An’ mony a lassie’s een, ay, mony, Uplicht wi’ joy to see a pair Sae canny an’ sae bonny. I hadna walked an hour at maist, I hadna honoured half the toon, The air grew drumlie lik’ a ghaist, An’ syne the rain cam’ doon. An’ first the dust it gently laid, An’ syne it cam’ in cats an’ doggies, That loosed the cobble-stanes and played Auld Hornie wi’ ma toggies. O waly for ma coat o’ cheicks That cost me guineas twa and three! An’ waly for ma ditto breeks Sae bagsome at the knee! The creasies twa are past reca’ That gard them hang sae fine, sae fine, Frae John o’ Groats to Gallowa’ Are nane sae puir as mine! O fause, inhospitable toon, I rede thee, gin I come again, Ma claes sall be o’ reich-ma-doon, An’ deil tak’ your rain! [Illustration: INTANGIBILITY _Severe Scots Schoolmistress (visiting some English friends)._ “Sir Joshua Reynolds, is it? Ah! vera pretty! And cherubs do vera weel in a picture; but I dinna care for bairnies _whose feelings I can’t appeal to_!”] TO EDINBURGH[B] IN EXPIATION Thou dear and gracious town, where I Have sojourned for a fleeting spell, The hour has come that bids me fly; Edina, fare thee well! Right heavy am I that we must part, For lo, I know not where or when I’ve met so--down, poor fluttering heart!-- And more agreeable men. Forgive me that I spake in haste Winged words that I would fain forget; Thy welcome seemed in doubtful taste, And I was very wet! But rather hold his memory dear, Whose sunny presence brought thee forth The finest weather of the year, And warmed the watery North. Now onward speeds the busy train, O hospitable town and kind, Farewell! Until I come again, I leave my heart behind. ---------------------------------- [B] A postcript to “A Ballad of Edinboro’ Toon.” ---------------------------------- [Illustration: _Follower (at the tail of the procession)._ “E--h, d’ye see yon wee Tam M‘Gowkie the-r-re! He maun be i’ th’ front, ye ken, whatever’s gaun on!” _His Companion._ “I’ the front! Aye, mun”--(_viciously_)--“he’d be i’ the hea-arse if he could!”] * * * * * Give every man his due, and his Mountain Dew if he claims it. [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration: _Model._ “Fine day, sir.” _Painter (aghast)._ “Fine--good heavens, man! Where’s your beard? What have you done to your face?” _Model._ “Me, sir? Naethin, but just made my whiskers a wee thing decent wi’ the shears.” _Painter._ “Then you’re an utterly ruined man, sir! and I’m very sorry for you. You’re not worth twopence. Good morning.”] THRUMS ON THE AULD STRING (“MR. PUNCH’S PRIZE NOVELS.”) _By_ J. MUIR KIRRIE, _Author of “A Door on Thumbs_,” “_Eight Bald Fiddlers_,” “_When a Man Sees Double_,” “_My Gentleman Meerschaum_,” &_c._