“Well, Lauchie, how are you?” “Man, I’m wonderfu’ weel, considerin’.” “Considerin’--what?” “I did last nicht what I’ve no dune this thirty year. I gaed to bed _pairfutly sober_, and I’m thankfu’ to say I got up this mornin’ _no a bit the waur_.”] [Illustration: SCRUPLES _English Tourist (having arrived at Greenock on Sunday morning)._ “My man, what’s your charge for rowing me across the frith?” _Boatman._ “Weel, sir, I was jist thinkin’ I canna break the Sawbath-day for no less than f’fteen shull’n’s!!”] [Illustration: “WHOLESALE” _Scot (to Fellow-Traveller on Northern Railway)._ “May ah ausk what line ye’re en?” _Our Artist (who had undergone a wide cross-examination with complaisance)._ “Well--I’m--I’m a painter.” _Scot._ “Man, that’s lucky! Ah deal i’ pents--an’ ah can sall ye white leed faur cheaper than ye can buy’t at ony o’ the shoaps.” _Artist._ “Oh, but I use very little. A pound or so serves me over a year.” _Scot._ “E----h, man! Ye maun be in a vera sma’ way o’ beezeness!!”] SONG OF A LONDON SCOT. Baker, baker, strike awa’; Ye’ll na gar me greet, mon. Ken that I defy ye a’; Though bread grow dear as meat, mon. Aits are baith bread an’ meat to me, Wha dinna keep my carriage. Mysel, forbye the barley-bree, Can live richt weel on parritch. [Illustration: THE CLYDE.--BEAUTIES OF SCOTTISH SCENERY AS SEEN BY OUR ARTIST.] [Illustration: TOO CANDID BY HALF _Visitor (to newly-married friend)._ “I was admiring your little carriage, Mrs. McLuckie, so----” _Mrs. McLuckie._ “Oh, the brougham! Yes; you’ve no idea what a comfort I find it----” _Mr. McLuckie._ “Oo aye! It’s gey handy! We’ve jist jobbit the cab for the coorse weather!!”] [Illustration: CAUTION _Host._ “Just another wee drap ’fore you go----” _Guest._ “Na, na, I’ll tak’ nae mair! I’m in a new lodgin’, and I’m no vera weel acquainted wi’ the stair!!”] [Illustration: “AULD EDINBRO’” _Saxon Traveller._ “This is too bad, waiter! I told you we wanted to go by the 9.30 train, and here’s breakfast not ready!” _Celtic Waiter._ “A weel, sir, fac’ is, the cook tak’s a gless!”] * * * * * SCOTLAND FOR EVER!--_Benjamin Barking Creek (thinking he is going to pull the mighty leg of MacTavish)._ But you must allow that the national emblem of your country is the thistle. _The MacTavish._ And for why? Because we grow it for ye Southrons to eat! [_Exit B. B. C._ * * * * * [Illustration: “BENEATH THE LOWEST DEEP” _Swell._ “Ah, Port-ar, is this twain--ah--composed entirely of second-class cawwiages?!” _Glasgow Porter._ “Na, na, man, there’s a wheen third-cless anes further forrit there!!”] * * * * * AT REDRUFUS CASTLE.--_The Duchess of Stony Cross (to Mrs. MacShoddy, who is returning a duty call)._ The Duke has actually consented to be Mayor of Crankborough in succession to poor Mr. Slitt.