either to conceal the body, or to avoid suspicion? Was it ony mark of caution to confide in twa such reprobates as Hunt and Probert, both of whom betrayed the murderer? Was it ony mark o' caution to tell the Bow Street officer, when he was apprehended, that he had thrown Weare's watch over a hedge? Was it ony mark o' caution to lose his pistol and pen-knife in the dark? Was it ony mark o' caution to keep bluidy things on and about him, afterwards for days, in a public-house? Fule and Phrenologist are a' ane, sir, truly enough.

TICKLER.

"A martyr could not have perished more heroically."

THE SHEPHERD.

That's no to be endured. Thurtell behaved wi' nae mair firmness than ony ither strong-nerved ruffian on the scaffold. Was his anxiety about the length o' rope like a martyr? Naebody behaved sae weel at the last as the honest hangman.

TICKLER.

The ass thus concludes. "I will not detain the reader any longer; but trust enough has been said to shew, that if ever head confirmed Phrenology, it is the head of Thurtell."

THE SHEPHERD.

Fling that trash frae you, and let us out by to the fire. The roof o' the house must be falling in belyve. Save us, what a hum o' voices and trampling o' feet, and hissing o' ingines, and growling o' the fire! Let's out to the Brig, and see the rampaging element.

TICKLER.

You remind me, Hogg, of Nero surveying Rome on fire, and playing on the harp.

THE SHEPHERD.

Do ye want a spring on the fiddle? See till him, North's sleeping! Let's out amang the crowd for an hour. He'll never miss us till we come back, and crutches are no for a crowd.

SCENE III.-The North Bridge-Mr TICKLER and the SHEPHERD incog. in the Crowd. TICKLER.

Two to one on the fire.

THE SHEPHERD.

That's a powerfu' ingine.-I wad back the water, but there's ower little o't. (Addressing himself generally to what Pierce Egan calls the audience,)— "Lads, up wi' the causeway, and get to the water-pipes."

(The hint is taken, and the engines distinguish themselves greatly.)

TICKLER.

Hogg, you Brownie, I never thought you were the man to throw cold water on any night's good amusement.

THE SHEPHERD.

I'll back the water, noo, for a gallon o' whisky.

TICKLER.

Young woman, it's no doubt a very pretty song of old Hector Macneil's,"Come under my plaidie, the night's gaun to fa', There's room in't, dear lassie, believe me, for twa."

But still, if you please, you need not put your arm under mine, till I whisper into your private ear.

What's the limmer wanting?

THE SHEPHERD.

FEMALE.

What! Is that you, Mr Hogg? Ken ye ocht o' your friend, Captain ODoherty?

THE SHEPHERD.

There there's half-a-crown for you-gang about your business, you slutor I'll brain ye. I ken nae Captain ODoherties.

TICKLER.

I remember, James, that a subscription-paper was carried about a few years

ago, to raise money for pulling down this very range of buildings, which had just been carried up at a considerable expense.

THE SHEPHERD.

And you subscribed ten pounds?

TICKLER.

I should as soon have thought of subscribing ten pounds for Christianizing Tartary.

THE SHEPHERD.

There's an awfu' wark in Embro just now, about raising Monuments to every body, great and small. Did you hear, sir, o' ane about to be raised to Dubisson the dentist?

TICKLER.

I did. It is to be a double statue. Dubisson is to be represented in marble, with one hand grasping a refractory patient by the jaw-bone, and with the other forcibly introducing his instrument into the mouth.-I have seen a sketch of the design, and it is equal to the Hercules and Antæus.

Whaur is't to be erecked?

In the Pantheon, to be sure.

Houts it maun be a joke.

THE SHEPHERD.

TICKLER.

THE SHEPHERD.

But, Mr Tickler, have you seen a plan o' the Monument built at Alloa to Robert Burns?

TICKLER.

Ay, James, there is some sense in that. My friend Mr Thomas Hamilton's design is most beautiful, simple, and impressive. It stands where it ought to stand, and the gentlemen of Coila deserve every praise. I have heard that a little money may be still needed in that quarter-very little, if any at all. And I will myself subscribe five pounds.

THE SHEPHERD.

So will I. But the Monument no being in Embro', you see, nor Mr Thomas Hamilton a man fond o' putting himself forward, ane hears naething about it. I only wish he would design ane half as gude for mysel.

TICKLER.

Ah! my beloved Shepherd, not for these thirty years at least. Your worthy father lived to ninety odd-why not his son? Some half century hence, your effigy will be seen on some bonny green knowe in the Forest, with its honest brazen face looking across St Mary's Loch, and up towards the Greymare's tail, while by moonlight all your own fairies will weave a dance round its pedestal.

THE SHEPHERD, (in amazement.)

My stars! yonder's ODoherty.

Who? The Adjutant?.

TICKLER.

THE SHEPHERD.

ODoherty!-look at him-look at him-see how he is handing out the furniture through the window, on the third flat of an adjoining tenement. How the deevil got he there? Weel, siccan a deevil as that ŎDoherty !—and him, a the time, out o' Embro', as I hae't under his ain hand!

TICKLER.

There is certainly something very exhilarating in a scene of this sort. I am a Guebir, or Fire-worshipper. Observe, the crowd are all in most prodigious spirits. Now, had it been a range of houses tenanted by poor men, there would have been no merriment. But Mr Levy is a Jew-rich probably-and no doubt insured.-Therefore, all is mirth and jollity.

THE SHEPHERD.

Insurance offices, too, are a' perfect banks, and ane canna help enjoying a bit screed aff their profits. My gallon o' whisky's gane; the fire has got it a' its ain way noo,-and as the best o' the bleeze is ower, we may return to Ambrose's.

TICKLER.

Steady-there was a pretty tongue of fire flickering out of the fourth story. The best is to come yet. What a contemptible affair is an illumination!

THE SHEPHERD.

Ye may say that—wi' an auld hizzie at every window, left at hame to watch the candle-doups.

STRANGER, (To the SHEPHERD.)

Sir, I beg your pardon, but you seem to be an amateur ?

SHEPHERD.

No, sir,-I am a married man, with two children.

STRANGER.

'Tis a very so so fire. I regret having left bed for it.

THE SHEPHERD.

What! were you siccan a fule as leave your warm bed for a fire? I'm think ing you'll be nae mair an amateur than mysel, but a married man.

STRANGER.

I have seen, sir, some of the first fires in Europe. Drury-Lane, and CoventGarden Theatres, each burned down twice-Opera-house twice-property to the amount of a million at the West India Docks-several successive cottonmill incremations of merit at Manchester-two explosions (one with respectable loss of life) of powder-mills-and a very fine conflagration of shipping at

Bristol.

I'm the Ettrick Shepherd-and this is Mr Tickler, sir.

STRANGER.

What! can I trust my ears-am I in presence of two of the men, who have set the whole world on fire?

THE SHEPHerd.

Yes-you are, sir, sure enough, and yonder's the Adjutant ODoherty, wi' his face a' covered wi' coom, getting sport up yonder, and doing far mair harm than good, that's certain. But will you come with us to Ambrose's?—Whare is he, Tickler?-whare is he? Whare's the gentleman gone?

TICKLER.

I don't know. Look at your watch, James,-What is the hour?

THE SHEPHERD, (fumbling about his fob.)

My watch is gone!-my watch is gone!--he has picket my pocket o' her!Deevil burn him!—I niffered wi' Baldy Bracken, in the Grass-market, the day before yesterday, and she didna lose a minute in the twenty-four. This is a bad job-let us back to Ambrose's. I'll never see her face again.

SCENE IV.-The Banquetting Room.

NORTH, (solus, and asleep.)

Enter on tiptoe Mr AMBROSE.

This fire has made me anxious about my premises. All right. He is fast as a nail; and snores (first time I ever heard him) like the rest of his species. Bless my soul!-the window is open at his very ear.

NORTH, (awakening.)

(Pulls down the sash.)

Ambrose! I have had a congellating dream.-Ice a foot thick in my washhand basin, and an icicle six inches long at my nose!

AMBROSE.

I am glad to have awakened you, sir. Shall I bring you a little mulled port?

NORTH.

No-no-Ambrose. Wheel me towards the embers. I hear it reported, Ambrose, that you are going to gut the tenement.-Is it so?

AMBROSE.

It is an ancient building, Mr North, and somewhat incommodious. During the summer months it will undergo a great change and thorough repair.

NORTH.

Well, well, Ambrose, I rejoice to know that a change is demanded by the increase of resort; but yet, methinks, I shall contemplate any alteration with a pensive and melancholy spirit. This very room, Mr Ambrose, within whose four walls I have been so often lately, must its dimensions be changed? Will this carpet be lifted? That chimney-piece be removed? I confess that the thought affects me, Mr Ambrose. Forgive the pensive tear.

(Takes out his square of India, and blows his nose in a hurried and agitated manner.)

AMBROSE.

Mr North, I have frequently thought of all this, and rather than hurt your feelings, sir, I will let the house remain as it is. I beseech you, sir, be composed.

NORTH.

No!" Ambrose thou reasonest well," it must be so. The whole city undergoeth change deep and wide, and wherefore should Gabriel's Road, and the Land of Ambrose, be alone immutable? Down with the partitions! The mind soon reconciles itself to the loss of what it most dearly loved. But the Chaldee Chamber, Ambrose ! the Chaldee Chamber, Ambrose! must it go-must it go, indeed, and be swallowed up in some great big wide unmeaning room, destitute alike of character and comfort, without one high association hanging on its blue or yellow walls?

AMBROSE.

No, Mr North, rather than alter the Chaldee Chamber, would I see the whole of Edinburgh involved in one general conflagration.

NORTH.

Enough-enough-now my mind is at rest. With hammers, and with axes both, let the workmen forthwith fall to. You must keep pace, Mr Ambrose, with the progress, the advancement of the age.

AMBROSE.

Sir, I have been perfectly contented, hitherto, with the accommodation this house affords, and so, I humbly hope, have been my friends; but I owe it to those friends to do all I can to increase their comforts, and I have got a plan that I think will please you, sir.

NORTH.

Better, Ambrose, than that of the British itself. But no more.-Think you the lads will return? If not, I must hobble homewards.

AMBROSE.

Hearken, sir—Mr Tickler's tread in the trance. (Exit susurrans.) (Enter TICKLER and the SHEPHERD.)

Have you supped, North?

TICKLER.

NORTH.

Not I indeed.-Ambrose, bring supper. (Exit Ambrose.)

THE SHEPHERD.

I think I wull rather take some breakfast.-Mr North, I'm thinking you're sleepy; for you're lookin' unco gash. Do you want an account o' the fire?

NORTH.

Certainly not. Mr Ambrose and I were engaged in a very interesting conversation when you entered. We were discussing the merits of the Exhibition.

THE SHEPHERD.

O' the pictures? I was there the day. Oh! man, yon things o' Wulkie's are chief endeavours. That ane frae the Gentle Shepherd, is just nature hersel. I wush he would illustrate in that gait, some o' the bonniest scenes in the Queen's Wake.

TICKLER.

Worth all the dull dirty daubs of all the Dutchmen that ever vomited into a canal. Nauseous ninnies! a coarse joke may pass in idle talk-a word and away-but think, James, of a human being painting filth and folly, dirt and debauchery, vulgarity and vileness, day after day, month after month, till he

finally covered the canvass with all the accumulated beastliness of his most drunken and sensual imagination?

NORTH.

Stop, Tickler-remember Teniers, and

THE SHEPHERD.

Remember nae sic fallow, Mr Tickler; Wulkie's wee finger's worth the hale o' them. "Duncan Gray cam here to woo," is sae gude, that it's maist unendurable. Yon's the bonniest lass ever I saw in a' my born days. What a sonsy hawse! But indeed, she's a' alike parfite.

TICKLER.

Stop, Shepherd, remember. I saw a Cockney to-day looking at that picture, and oh! what a contrast between the strapping figure of Duncan Gray, his truly pastoral physiognomy, well-filled top-boots (not unlike your own, James,) and sinewy hands that seem alike ready for the tug of either love or war-and the tout-ensemble of that most helpless of all possible creatures!

NORTH.

John Watson is great this year. Happy man, to whom that beautiful creature, (picture of a Lady,) may be inditing a soft epistle! What innocence, simplicity, grace, and gaiete du cour! Why, if that sweet damosel would think of an old man like the

THE SHEPHerd.

Haud your tongue. Why should she think o an auld man? "Ye might be her gutcher, you re threescore and twa."

TICKLER.

Mr Thomson of Duddingston is the best landscape-painter Scotland ever produced-better than either Nasmyth, or Andrew Wilson, or Greek Williams.

NORTH.

Not so fast, Tickler. Let us discuss the comparative merits

THE SHEPHERD.

Then I'm aff. For o' a' the talk in this warld, that about pictures is the warst. I wud say that to the face o' the Director-General himsel.

NORTH.

A hint from my Theocritus is sufficient. What think you, Bion, of this parliamentary grant of L.300,000 for repairing old Windsor ?

THE SHEPHERD.

I never saw the Great House o' Windsor Palace, but it has been for ages the howf o' kings, and it mauna be allowed to gang back. If L.300,000 winna do, gie a million. Man, if I was but in Parliament, I would gie the niggarts their fairings. Grudge a king a palace!

NORTH.

What say you, my good Shepherd, to a half million more for churches?

THE SHEPHERD.

Mr North, you and Mr Tickler is aiblins laughing at me, and speering questions at me, that you may think are out o' my way to answer; but, for a' that, I perhaps ken as weel's either o' you, what's due to the religious establishments of a great and increasing kintra, wi' a population o' twal millions, mair or less, in or owre. Isn't it sae?

NORTH.

Well said, James. This is not the place, perhaps, to talk much of these serious matters; but no ministry will ever stand the lower in the estimation of their country, for having enabled some hundred thousands more of the people to worship their Maker publicly once a-week.

THE SHEPHERD.

I'm thinking no. Nane o' the Opposition wad oppose a grant o' half a million for bigging schools, the mair's their merit; and if sae, what for no kirks Edication and religion should gang hand in hand. That's aye been my thocht. (Enter Ambrose, with supper.) Howsomever, here's sooper; and instead o' talking o' kirks, let us a' gang oftener till them.-Put down the sassages afore me, Ambrois. Ye're looken unco weel the noo, man; I hardly ever saw ye sae fat. How is the mistress and the bairns?