"It is not for this, I say, that I judge the piece worthy of attention; nor yet what it shows of ability, hability, docility, or any of the terms that end in _ility_; nor for its allegory, category, or any of the terms that end in _ory_. Neither is it for its versification, imagination, nor any of the thousand abominable terms that end in _ation_. No, sir, the properties of all my songs, I am thankful to Saint Martin, end in _icity_ and _uity_. You know the song, Yardbire?" "O yes. Quite weel." What do you think of the eleventh verse? Let me see. No, it is the thirteenth verse." "Good Friday! are there so many?" "Hem--m--m. The tenth is, the Ox-eye, I am sure of that. The eleventh is the Mill-stone. The twelfth, the Cloudberry and the Shepherd Boy. The thirteenth, is the Gander and Water-Wagtail. It is the fourteenth. What do you think of the fourteenth? Ay, it is the Gowans and the Laverock that you will like best. You remember that, I am sure?" "O yes; to be sure I do,"--(Aside,) "Good Lord, the poet's horn mad! Heard ever any body the like o' this?" "How is this it runs? Ay, When the bluart bears a pearl, And the daisy turns a pea, And the bonny lucken gowan Has fauldit up his ee, Then the laverock frae the blue lift, Doops down and thinks nae shame To woo his bonny lassie, When the kye come hame. "The song is good, and the music of the song also is delectable," said the friar; "but the voice of the singer is like a sweet psaltery that hath lost a string, and hath its belly rent by the staff of the beater. Lo, I would even delight to hear the song from beginning to end." "Sing it, poet, and let it stand for the tale," cried two of them at once. "That I will not," answered he; "I will tell my tale in my own style, and my own manner, as the rest have done: nevertheless, if my throat were not so dry, I would sing the song." "It is plain what he wants," said Charlie. "'Tis the gate wi' a' the minstrels,--_wet the whistle, or want the spring_." Charlie handed him another cup of strong drink, desiring him to take it off and sing. He did the first freely, and attempted the second with equal alacrity; but his voice and memory both failed him by the way, to the great amusement of the whole party,--even the captive boy screamed with laughter, and the great Master was twice constrained to smile. But we must describe this scene as Isaac himself gives it. The poet was sitting on a bench, with Charlie on the one hand, and Delany on the other; and, fixing his eyes on the ceiling, and clasping his hands, which he heaved up at every turn of the tune, he went on thus: THE SWEETEST THING THE BEST THING. _A SONG._ VERSE FIRST.