principal points of bearing and forbearing; for friend Thimblethwaite was a person of my wit himself, and never quarrelled with any jest which the wags who frequented that house were flinging about, like squibs and crackers on a rejoicing night; and then, though some of the wits—ay, and I dare say the greater number, might have had some dealings with him in the way of trade, he never was the person to put any man of genius in unpleasant remembrance of such trifles. And though, my dear young Master Mordaunt, you may think this is but ordinary civility, because in this country it happens seldom that there is either much borrowing or lending, and because, praised be Heaven, there are neither bailiffs nor sheriff-officers to take a poor fellow by the neck, and because there are no prisons to put him into when they have done so, yet, let me tell you, that such a lamb-like forbearance as that of my poor dear, deceased landlord, Thimblethwaite, is truly uncommon within the London bills of mortality. I could tell you of such things that have happened even to myself, as well as others, with these cursed London tradesmen, as would make your hair stand on end.—But what the devil has put old Magnus into such note? he shouts as if he were trying his voice against a northwest gale of wind.»

Loud indeed was the roar of the old Udal

ler, as, worn out of patience by the schemes of improvement which the factor was now undauntedly pressing upon his consideration, he answered him (to use an Ossianic phrase) like a wave upon a rock.

Trees, Sir Factor-talk not to me of trees! I care not though there never be one on the island, tall enough to hang a coxcomb upon. We will have no trees but those that rise in our havens—the good trees that have yards for boughs, and standing-rigging for leaves.»

«But touching the draining of the lake of Braebaster, whereof I spoke to you, Master Magnus Troil,» answered the persevering agriculturist, « whilk I opine would be of so much consequence, there are two waysdown the Linklater glen, or by the Scalmester burn. Now, having levelled both-->

« There is a third way, Master Yellowley,» answered the landlord.

« I profess I can see none,» replied Triptolemus, with as much good faith as a joker could desire in the subject of his wit, « in respect that the hill called Braebaster on the south, and ane high bank on the north, of whilk I cannot carry the name rightly in my

« Do not tell us of hills and banks, Master Yellowley-there is a third way of draining the loch, and it is the only way that shall be tried in my day. You say my Lord Chamber

lain and I are the joint proprietors--so be it -let each of us start an equal proportion of brandy, lime-juice, and sugar, into the locha ship's cargo or two will do the job-let us assemble all the jolly Udallers of the country, and in twenty four hours you shall see dry ground where the loch of Braebaster now is.»

A loud laugh of applause, which for a time actually silenced Triptolemus, attended a jest so very well suited to time and place—a jolly toast was given a merry song was sung-the ship unloaded her sweets—the pinnace made its genial round-the duet betwixt Magnus and Triptolemus, which had attracted the attention of the whole company from its superior vehemence, now once more sunk, and merged into the general hum of the convivial table, and the poet Halcro again resumed his usurped possession of the ear of Mordaunt Mertoun.

<< Whereabouts was I?» he said, with a tone which expressed to his weary listener more plainly than words could, how much of his desultory tale yet remained to be told. «O, I remember-we were just at the door of the Wits' Coffee-house-it was set up by one—>>

Nay, but, my dear Master Halcro,» said his hearer, somewhat impatiently, « I am desirous to hear of your meeting with Dryden.»

What, with glorious John?-true-ay

where was I? At the Wits' Coffee-house

Well, in at the door we got-the waiters, and so forth, staring at me; for as to Thimblethwaite, honest fellow, his was a well-known face. I can tell you a story about that

Nay, but John Dryden,» said Mordaunt, in a tone which deprecated further digression.

«Ay ay, glorious John-where was I?Well, as we stood close by the bar, where a fellow sat grinding of coffee, and another putting up tobacco into penny parcels-a pipe and a dish cost just a penny-then and and there it was that I had the first peep of him. One Dennis sat near him, who

-----)

Nay, but John Dryden-what like was he?» demanded Mordaunt.

« Like a little fat old man, with his own grey hair, and in a full-trimmed black suit, that sate close as a glove. Honest Thimblethwaite let no one but himself shape for glorious John, and he had a slashing hand at a sleeve, I promise you-But there is no getting a mouthful of common sense spoken here -damn that Scotchman, he and old Magnus are at it again.">

It was very true; and although the interruption did not resemble a thunder-clap, to which the former stentorian exclamation of the Udaller might have been likened, it was a close and clamorous dispute, maintained by question, answer, retort, and repartee, as closely huddled upon each other as the sounds

which announce from a distance a close and sustained fire of musketry.

« we

« Hear reason, sir!» said the Udaller; will hear reason, and speak reason too; and if reason fall short, you shall have rhyme to boot. Ha, my little friend Halcro !»>

Though cut off in the middle of his best story (if that could be said to have a middle which had neither beginning nor end), the bard bristled up at the summons, like a corps of light infantry when ordered up to the support of the grenadiers, looked smart, slapped the table with his hand, and denoted his becoming readiness to back his hospitable landlord, as becomes a well entertained guest. Triptolemus was a little daunted at this reinforcement of his adversary; he paused, like a cautious general, in the sweeping attack which he had commenced on the peculiar usages of Zetland, and spoke not again until the Udaller poked him with the insulting query, «Where is your reason now, Master Yellowley, that you were deafening me with a moment syne?»>

« Be but patient, worthy sir,» replied the agriculturist; « what on earth can you or any other man say in defence of that thing you call a plough in this blinded country? Why, even the savage Highlandmen, in Caithness. and Sutherland, can make more work and better, with their gascromb, or whatever they call it."