“Oh ay,” said his wife, in the background, “you have had an awfu’ troke with the papers, John Rankin; but it would have sert ye muckle better if you had written something that would be of use, and got a little by it. Good siller is out o’ place in nobody’s pooch.” “Do you mean to say that you--write for the papers?” said Rosamond. “That do I, my bonny leddy; and ye should just recommend a study like mine to your father, poor gentleman. You’ll see many a thing from me there. I’m Ros-beg, that’s the name I took; which means the little Ros, just as Rosmore means the muckle Ros, and Ben Ros the hill. I’m grand upon Hieland antiquities, and considered one o’ the first authorities. Ye’ll see, ye’ll see,” said Rankin, waving his hand as he held out the paper to his visitor. It was a very well-known paper, one in which a great many questions are put and answered. The reader will not need to be told its highly respectable name. “Is it you that has written all this about some bard--Donald--I can’t say his name? And there’s an answer from Ben Cruachan, and one from Mr. Davies, and G. Johnson--oh, Eddy! St. Chad’s, Cambridge!” “I say,” Eddy had begun, “hand us out some of the doggies, and don’t talk;” but when he saw the page which Rosamond held out to him, he laughed out till the cottage rang. “Oh ho,” he said, “Johnson! Here is a lark! Johnson! Now we’ll have some fun. I say, gamekeeper! Johnson’s here.” “What is your will, sir?” said Rankin, with great dignity. The purveyor of dogs could take a joke, but not the contributor to _Notes and Queries_. In the latter capacity, John Rankin veiled his bonnet to none. “Why, Johnson, I tell you. Johnson’s here! Don’t you know what I mean? Johnson, the don,” and Eddy laughed again till the tears ran down his cheeks. “I’ll bring him to see you, old fellow. You shall have your fight out, and I’ll back you, old boy, to him, six to one.” “My learned correspondent!” said Rankin, with a look of excitement. And then he turned to Rosamond. “Your brother is a wild laddie, but I suppose what he says is true?” “I suppose so,” said Rosamond, with great gravity, while Eddy did his best to subdue the convulsions of laughter into which he had fallen. His sister was impatient of Eddy’s joke, and of the whole matter. “Let us, please, see the little dogs,” she said. “Yes; but I’m far more interested about the other thing,” said Rankin, “for I would like well to put forth my views in a mair extended form. The space of the paper is real limited. They will sometimes leave out just your maist conclusive argument. Dod! but I’d like a crack with Mr. Johnson fine.”