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TALBOYS.

I wrote last night, sir, to say I was coming-but there being no speedier conveyance-I put the letter in my pocket, and there it is

NORTH.

(On reading "Dies Boreales.-No. 1.")
A friend returned! spring bursting forth again!
The song of other years! which, when we roam,
Brings up all sweet and common things of home,
And sinks into the thirsty heart like rain!
Such the strong influence of the thrilling strain
By human love made sad and musical,
Yet full of high philosophy withal,

Poured from thy wizard harp o'er land and main!

A thousand hearts will waken at its call,

And breathe the prayer they breathed in earlier youth,—
May o'er thy brow no envious shadow fall!

Blaze in thine eye the eloquence of truth!

Thy righteous wrath the soul of guilt appal,
As lion's streaming hair or dragon's fiery tooth!

TALBOYS.

I blush to think I have given you the wrong paper.

NORTH.

It is the right one. But may I ask what you have on your head?

TALBOYS.

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A patent hat-a waterproof hat-it was swimming, when I purchased it yesterday, in a pail-warranted against Lammas floods—

NORTH.

And in an hour it has come to this! Why, it has no more shape than a coal-heaver's.

TALBOYS.

Oh! then it can be little the worse. For that is its natural artificial shape. It is constructed on that principle-and the patentee prides himself on its affording equal protection to head, shoulders, and back-helmet at once and shield.

NORTH.

But you must immediately put on dry clothes

TALBOYS.

The clothes I have on are as dry as if they had been taking horse-exercise all morning before a laundry-fire. I am waterproof all over-and I had need to be so-for between Inverary and Cladich there was much moisture in the atmosphere.

NORTH.

Do-do-go and put on dry clothes. Why the spot you stand on is absolutely swimming

TALBOYS.

My Sporting-jacket, sir, is a new invention—an invention of my own-to the sight silk-to the feel feathers-and of feathers is the texture-but that is a secret, don't blab it-and to rain I am impervious as a plover.

NORTH.

Do-do-go and put on dry clothes.

TALBOYS.

Intended to have been here last night-left Glasgow yesterday morningand had a most delightful forenoon of it in the Steamer to Tarbert. Loch Lomond fairly outshone herself-never before had I felt the full force of the words "Fortunate Isles." The Bens were magnificent. At Tarbert-just

as I was disembarking-who should be embarking but our friends Outram, M'Culloch, Macnee

And why are they not here?

NORTH.

TALBOYS.

And I was induced-I could not resist them-to take a trip on to Inverarnan. We returned to Tarbert and had a glorious afternoon till two this morningthought I might lie down for an hour or two-but, after undressing, it occurred to me that it was advisable to redress-and be off instanter-so, wheeling round the head of Loch Long-never beheld the bay so lovely-I glided up the gentle slope of Glencroe and sat down on "Rest and be thankful"-to hold a minute's colloquy with a hawk-or some sort of eagle or another, who seemed to think nobody at that hour had a right to be there but himself-covered him to a nicety with my rod-and had it been a gun, he was a dead bird. Down the other that is, this side of the glen, which, so far from being precipitous, is known to be a descent but by the pretty little cataractettes playing at leap-frog —from your description I knew that must be Loch Fine-and that St Catherine's. Shall I drop down and signalise the Inverary Steamer? I have not time so through the woods of Ardkinglass-surely the most beautiful in this world-to Cairndow. Looked at my watch-had forgot to wind her upset her by the sun-and on nearing the inn door an unaccountable impulse landed me in the parlour to the right. Breakfast on the table for somebody up stairs-whom nobody-so the girl said-could awaken-ate it-and the ten miles were but one to that celebrated Circuit Town. Saluted Dun-nu-quech for your sake—and the Castle for the Duke's-and could have lingered all June among those gorgeous groves.

NORTH.

Do-do-go and put on dry clothes.

TALBOYS.

Hitherto it had been cool-shady--breezy-the very day for such a saunter -when all at once it was an oven. I had occasion to note that fine line of the Poet's "Where not a lime-leaf moves," as I passed under a tree of that species, with an umbrage some hundred feet in circumference, and a presentiment of what was coming whispered "Stop here"-but the Fates tempted me on-and if I am rather wet, sir, there is some excuse for it-for there was thunder and lightning, and a great tempest.

NORTH.

Not to-day? Here all has been hush.

TALBOYS.

It came at once from all points of the compass-and they all met—all the storms—every mother's son of them-at a central point-where I happened to be. Of course, no house. Look for a house on an emergency, and if once in a million times you see one-the door is locked, and the people gone to Australia.

NORTH.

I insist on you putting on dry clothes. Don't try my temper.

TALBOYS.

By-and-by I began to have my suspicions that I had been distracted from the road-and was in the Channel of the Airey. But on looking down I saw the Airey in his own channel-almost as drumly as the mire-burn-vulgarly called road-I was plashing up. Altogether the scene was most animatingand in a moment of intense exhilaration-not to weather-fend, but in defiance-I unfurled my Umbrella.

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I use it, sir, but as a Parasol. Never but on this one occasion had it affronted rain.

NORTH.

The same we sat under, that dog-day, at Dunoon?

TALBOYS.

The same. Whew! Up into the sky like the incarnation of a whirlwind! No turning outside in-too strong-ribbed for inversion-before the wind he flew-like a creature of the element-and gracefully accomplished the descent on an eminence about a mile off.

NORTH.

Near Orain-imali-chauan-mala-chuilish?

TALBOYS.

I eyed him where he lay-not without anger. It had manifestly been a wilful act he had torn himself from my grasp-and now he kept looking at me-at safe distance as he thought—like a wild animal suddenly undomesticated-and escaped into his native liberty. If he had sailed before the wind-why might not I? No need to stalk him-so I went at him right in front-but such another flounder! Then, sir, I first knew fatigue.

NORTH.

"So eagerly THE FIEND

O'er bog, or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare,
With head, hands, wings, or feet pursues his way,
And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies."

TALBOYS.

Finally I reached him-closed on him-when Eolus, or Eurus, or Notus, or Favonius-for all the heathen wind-gods were abroad-inflated him, and away he flew rustling like a dragon-fly-and zig-zagging all fiery-green in the gloom-sat down-as composedly as you would yourself, sir-on a knoll, in another region-engirdled with young birch-groves-as beautiful a restingplace, I must acknowledge as, after a lyrical flight, could have been selected for repose by Mr Wordsworth.

NORTH.

I know it-Arash-alaba-chalin-ora-begota-la-chona-hurie. Archy will go for it in the evening-all safe. But do go and put on dry clothes. What now, Billy?

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Nea, Maister-I dan't kna'-I 'spose Carrier. I ken't reet weell-ance at Windermere-watter.

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You will find the Swiss Giantess as complete a dormitory as man can desire, Talboys. I reserve it for myself, in event of rheumatism. Though lined with velvet, it is always cool-ventilated on a new principle-of which I took merely a hint from the Punka. My cot hangs in what used to be the Exhibition-room-and her Retreat is now a commodious Dressing-room. Billy, show Mr Talboys to the Swiss Giantess.

BILLY.

Ay-ay, sir. This way, Mr Talboy-this way, sir.

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And now 'tis but half-past two. Four hours for work. The Cladich-or whatever you call him-is rumbling disorderly in the wood; and I noted, as I crossed the bridge, that he was proud as a piper of being in Spate—but he

-HEAVEN HAVE MERCY

looks more rational down in yonder meadows-andON ME! THERE'S LOCH AWE!!

NORTH.

I thought it queer that you never looked at it.

TALBOYS.

Looked at it? How could I look at it? I don't believe it was there. If it was-from the hill-top I had eyes but for the Camp-the Tents and the Trees -and "Thee the spirit of them all!" Let me have another eye-full-another soul-full of the Loch. But 'twill never do to be losing time in this way. Where's my creel-where's my creel?

On your shoulders—

NORTH.

TALBOYS.

And my Book? Lost-lost-lost! Not in any one of all my pockets. I shall go mad.

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Seven. Archy, follow him-In that state of excitement he will be walking with his spectacles on over some precipice. Keep your eye on him, Archy—

ARCHY.

I can pretend to be carrying the landing-net, sir.

NORTH.

There's a specimen of a Scottish Lawyer, gentlemen. What do you think of him?

BULLER.

That he is without exception the most agreeable fellow, at first sight, I ever met in my life.

NORTH.

And so you would continue to think him, were you to see him twice a-week for twenty years. But he is far more than that-though, as the world goes, that is much: his mind is steel to the back-bone-his heart is sound as his lungs-his talents great-in literature, had he liked it, he might have excelled; but he has wisely chosen a better Profession-and his character now stands high as a Lawyer and a Judge. Yonder he goes! As fresh as a kitten after a score and three quarter miles at the least.

BULLER.

Seward let's after him. Billy—the minnows.

BILLY.

Here's the Can, sirs.

Scene closes.

SCENE II.

Interior of Deeside.-TIME-Seven P.M.

NORTH-TALBOYS-BULLer-Seward.

NORTH.

Seward, face Buller. Talboys, face North. Fall too, gentlemen; to-day we dispense with regular service. Each man has his own distinct dinner before him, or in the immediate vicinity-soup, fish, flesh, fowl-and with all necessary accompaniments and sequences. How do you like the arrangement of the table, Talboys?

TALBOYS.

The principle shows a profound knowledge of human nature, sir. In theory, self-love and social are the same—but in practice, self-love looks to your own plate-social to your neighbours. By this felicitous multiplication of dinners -this One in Four-this Four in One-the harmony of the moral system is preserved and all works together for the general good. Looked at artistically, we have here what the Germans and others say is essential to the beautiful and the sublime-Unity.

NORTH.

I believe the Four Dinners-if weighed separately-would be found not to differ by a pound. This man's fish might prove in the scale a few ounces heavier than that man's-but in such case, his fowl would be found just so many ounces lighter. And so on. The Puddings are cast in the same mould -and things equal to the same thing, are equal to one another.

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From these general views, to descend to particulars. Soup (turtle) two pounds-Hotch, ditto-Fish (Trout) two pounds-Flesh, (Jigot-black face five-year-old,) six pounds-Fowl (Howtowdie boiled) five pounds-Duck (wild) three pounds-Tart (gooseberry) one pound—Pud (Variorum Edition) two pounds.

BULLER.

That is but twenty-three, sir! I have taken down the gentleman's words.

NORTH.

Polite and grateful. But you have omitted sauces and creams, breads and cheeses. Did you ever know me incorrect in my figures, in any affirmation or denial, private or public?

Never. Beg pardon.

BULLER.

NORTH.

Now that the soups and fishes seem disposed of, I boldly ask you, one and all, gentlemen, if you ever beheld Four more tempting Jigots?

TALBOYS.

I am still at my Fish. No fish so sweet as of one's own catching-so I have the advantage of you all. This one here-the one I am eating at this blessed moment-I killed in what the man with the Landing-net called the Birk Pool. I know him by his peculiar physiognomy-an odd cast in his eye -which has not left him on the gridiron. That Trout of my killing on your plate, Mr Seward, made the fatal plunge at the tail of the stream so overhung with Alders that you can take it successfully only by the tail-and I know him by his colour, almost as silvery as a whitling. Yours, Mr Buller, was the third I killed-just where the river-for a river he is to-day, whatever he may be to-morrow-goes whirling into the Loch-and I can swear to him from his leopard spots. Illustrious sir, of him whom you have now disposed of—the finest of the Four-I remember saying inwardly, as with difficulty I encreeled him for his shoulders were like a hog's-this for the King.

NORTH.

Your perfect Pounder, Talboys, is the beau-ideal of a Scottish Trout. How he cuts up! If much heavier-you are frustrated in your attempts to eat him thoroughly-have to search-probably in vain-for what in a perfect Pounder lies patent to the day-he is to back-bone comeatable-from gill to fork. Seward, you are an artist. Good creel?

SEWARD.

I gave Mr Talboys the first of the water, and followed him-a mere caprice -with the Archimedean Minnow. I had a run-but just as the monster

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