1819.]

HOGG AND THE SALMON.

11

made-at every rush he took, the Shepherd was fearfully agitated—and floundered, stumbled, fell and recovered himself again among the large round slippery stones, in a manner wondrous to behold. For a man of his years, his activity is prodigious. "Look there, Mr. Editor! There is a LEADING ARTICLE for you!" Scarcely had he spoken, when the fish took a sullen fit, and sinking to the bottom, lay there like a log,

"Rolled round in earth's diurnal course

With rocks and stones and trees!"

The Shepherd seemed truly thankful for this short respite from toil, and helping himself cautiously to a pinch of snuff, handed over the mull* to us with that air of courteous generosity observable on such occasions. At length he became desirous of another heat, but the salmon would not budge, and the Shepherd, forgetting how much he stood in awe of the monarch of the flood when he was in motion, began insulting him in the grossest manner in his repose. Finally, he proposed to us to strip and dive down to alarm him, some fifteen or twenty feet-a modest proposal to a man of fifty-an editor— and a martyr to the rheumatism. Here the fish darted off like lightning, and then threw a somerset many feet in the air. Though this was what the Shepherd had wished, it seemed not to be what he had expected, and the rod was twitched out of his grasp, as neatly as at a match of single stick. Walter Ritchie, however, recovered the weapon, and returned it to its master yet standing in blank discomfiture. His pride did not allow him to decline it-though it was apparent that he would have exchanged situations with Mazeppa or John Gilpin.

But why prolong the agitating narrative? Suffice it to say, that after a chase of two miles down the Dee, and from an observation of the sun's altitude of two hours' duration, the salmon gave in-and came unexpectedly to shore. There, on the green turf, lay salmon and Shepherd, both quite exhausted, and with scarcely any symptoms of life. They reminded us of one of those interesting scenes in Border History, where two gallant foemen lie side by side-or like one of those no less interesting scenes in coursing, where greyhound and hare are stretched gasping together on the wold. The Fish The Fish gave his last convulsive bound from the sod, and the shepherd, with a faint voice, cried, “take care o' yoursels or he'll lame some o' you❞—but his fears were groundless, for Waltar Ritchie had already given him

A mull is a Scotch snuff-box, made out of a ram's-horn, polished, and fitted with a cover, often embellished with a silver setting, on which is fixed a cairn-gorm, or Scotch topaz.-M. † At this time, the Editor of Blackwood had neither assumed the name of CHRISTOPHER NORTH, nor quite decided what his age should be. A man of 50, in 1818, would have been born in 1769. Subsequently, the year 1754 was given as the actual date, which would have made. Kit North 65, at the time he and his colleagues were at Braemar. Throughout the "Noctes." he is represented as in venerable old age, and must have been 81 when they closed, in 1835.-M.

the coup de grace, and holding him up by the gills, pronounced his eulogy with a simple pathos, worthy of better times, "a brave fish! de'el tak me ginna he binna twenty pun weight!"

The first thing the shepherd said, on coming to himself, was, "gude save us, I wou'd gie half a croon for a gill o' whusky!" The sun, however, had dissolved the mountain-dew-so we had to return (a distance of nearly three miles) to our tent, within the coolness of whose shadow we knew some of the "tears of the morning" were to be found.

On entering the tent, only judge of our surprise when we found Kempferhausen, Mullion, and Jarvie, tearing away tooth and nail at the "Branxy," and gulping "* and gulping down the aqua vitæ as if it had been small beer! The swallow of the young German, in particular, was prodigious; and much must he have astonished the Westmoreland peasantry, when in training to write his celebrated letters from the Lakes. He assured us that he had ate little or nothing for three days, which seemed to us but a partial avowal of the truth, for his present voracity could only have been satisfactorily accounted for on the theory of a fast for three weeks. That excellent actor Jones, in Jeremy Diddler, was a mere joke to him.† Mullion made a masterly meal of it; while of Jarvie it is sufficient to say, that he upheld the high character of a citizen of Glasgow. We introduced the Shepherd to Kempferhausen and Jarvie (Mullion being an old acquaintance), and nothing could be more amusing than the contrast of the Glasgow and the Hamburgh manner. Jarvie got into such glee, that he absolutely began to "trot" the shepherd round the room; but James was soon up to him, and played off in his turn upon the bailie, asserting with meritorious gravity of face, that he had shot the salmon with a single ball, at the distance of half a mile, as he was rashly attempting, with his tail in his mouth, to leap the Linn of Dee.

It was now wearing on to two o'clock, and it is not to be denied, that though "no that fou," we had got "a drappy in our ee,"-though

*Branxy is the name given to mutton hams made from the sheep that have died of their own accord, or met with some fatal accident among the mountains. It is quite superior to any other, both in flavor and nutrient. It is a perquisite of the shepherds; and in this instance we had it warranted sound by the head of Lord Fife's pastoral establishment. The best we ever ate was at Dugald Campbell's, Esq. of Achlian, Argyllshire.-C. N.

Richard Jones, commonly called "Gentleman Jones," was a great favorite at the Edinburgh theatre, as comedian, and finally settled in London, where he died a few years ago, after having realized a large fortune as a teacher of elocution.-M.

To trot means to hoax. It used to be much practised in Glasgow, and also at Bolton, in Lancashire. A famous Bolton trot was the wager with one "in verdure clad," that he would not put one of his feet into hot water, and keep it therein as long as a certain Boltonian who was present. The trial was made, then and there. Both plunged a stocking-covered leg into a tub of boiling water. The Bolton fellow" appeared entirely unaffected by the increased temperature the other instantaneously withdrew his pin, dreadfully scalded, and paid the dozen of wine which he had lost. When the party were on the last bottle, the green young gentleman was informed and shown, that it was his opponent's cork leg which had competed with his own, of flesh and bone. This was a thorough trot-equivalent to a modern sell! Lancashire, by the way, the inhabitants of certain towns are characteristically designated as "Liverpool gentlemen, Manchester men, Wigan chaps, and Bolton fellows."-M.

In

1819.]

TICKLER-HOGG

-ODOHERTY.

13

it was more owing to the heat of the sun and the salmon-hunt than anything else, that we found any difficulty in preserving our equilibrium. Kempferhausen and Hogg were prodigiously great, and we overheard the foreigner vowing that he would publish a German translation of the Queen's Wake; while, in another corner of the Tent, and with the whisky quech placed before us on the Contributors' box, we and Jarvie were unco kind and couth thegither," and the Bailie solemnly promised us before winter, his article entitled "The devil on Two Sticks, on the Top of the Ram's Horn."*

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While matters were thus going on, Walter Ritchie came hastily into the Tent, and let us know that "four strange gentlemen" were making the best of their way towards us, over the large stones and loose rocks of a heathery hill behind. In a few minutes he ushered two of them in. They were a brace of smart springals enough, with no small portion of self-assurance and nonchalance. 'My name," quoth the tallest, "is Seward of Christchurch, and this is Buller of Brazennose." We had heard something of Oxford ease and affluence, and indeed reckon more than one Oxonian among our contributors; but without seeing it, we could not have credited the concentration of so much self-satisfaction in any one individual of the species as in this avowed Seward of Christchurch. "Cursed comfortable marqué, Buller, and plenty of prog;-come, my old boy, tip us a beaker of your stingo.' Pray," replied we, may I ask which of you is the Brazennose man?" Ha! Buller, to be sure, Buller of Brazennose !-first-class-man, sir-devilish clever fellow;allow me to introduce him to you more particularly, sir :-This, sir, is Bob Buller of Brazennose-first-class-man, sir, both in Litt. Hum. and Class. Phys.--their crack-man, sir, since the days of Milman.‡ But pray, sir, may I ask to whom I have the honor of addressing myself?" Why," replied we politely, but with dignity, "Mr. Seward, we are the veiled Editor of Blackwood's Magazine!" "The veiled Editor of Blackwood's Magazine! By the scythe of Saturn and all that is cutting! my worthy old cock! Lend me your feelers, Buller-isn't he as like old Gaisford as two pigs? Mr. Editor, you know Gaisford-damned good fellow-one of the wellbooted Greeks.""It is my misfortune, sir, never to have seen Mr. Gaisford, but I have a copy of his Hephaestion." Here we chanced

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The "Ram's Horn" is the name of a church in Glasgow, from the top of whose spire the Devil on Two Sticks would unquestionably have a commanding bird's-eye view of that city.-C. N. † Buller, of Brazennose College, Oxford, was John Hughes, (who really belonged to Oriel,) and author of an Itinerary of the Rhone. He was a great friend of Ainsworth, the novelist, Thomas Ingoldsby (the Rev. Richard Harris Barham, a member of the same college), and Theodore Hook. There was no representative, to my knowledge, of Seward.

When a student at Oxford wins the highest honors, at the degree-examination, in classics and science, he is called "a double first"-as conqueror in both. The late Sir Robert Peel was so distinguished. The Rev. Henry Hart Milman here mentioned, was a Brazen nose man, and is now Dean of St. Paul's Cathedral, London. He has written much in prose and versechiefly dramatic in the latter, of which his play of "Fazio" is the only one on the stage.-M. The Rev. Dr. Thomas Gaisford, Dean of Christchurch, Oxford, since 1831, was appointed Regius Professor of Greek in 1811.-M.

to look around us, and saw the faces of the Shepherd, Mullion, and Jarvie, close to each other, and all fixed with various expressions of fear, wonder, and astonishment on Mr. Seward of Christchurch! They kept cautiously advancing towards him inch by inch, somewhat in the style of three Arctic Highlanders towards Captain Ross on his supposed descent from the moon; Jarvie bent down in a crouching attitude, with his hands on his knees, like a frog ready to make a spring; Mullion, with one fist on his' chin, and the other unconsciously clawing his head, while his broad purple face was one gleam or rather "glower" of curiosity; and the Shepherd with his noble buck teeth, displayed in all their brown irregularity, like a seer in a fit of second sight. "Whare the deevil cum ye frae ?" quoth the Shepherd. "Ha, ha! Buller, here is a rum one to go." On this we introduced the Shepherd to the Oxonians, as the author of the Queen's Wake, Pilgrims of the Sun, &c., and in return, with some difficulty explained to him in what part of the globe Oxford stood, and to what purpose it was dedicated, though on this latter point we did not seem to make ourselves very intelligible. Weel, weel, gentlemen," continued the Shepherd, "I'se warrant your twa big scholars, but hech sers, there's something about you baith that is enough to mak ane split their sides with laughing. Buller o' Brazennose, I ne'er heard the like o' sic an a name as that in a' my born days, except it were the Bullers o' Buchan."* Then the Shepherd put his hands to his sides, and burst into a long loud triumphant guffaw.

66

Meanwhile, we had wholly forgotten the other two 'strange gentlemen," and found that they were sitting outside the tent. Wastle very politely asked them in; one was a dapper little fellow, but as pale as death; and had his left hand wrapt up in a handkerchief. The other was tall and lusty, but with a face of vulgar effeminacy, and altogether breathing rather offensively of a large town. My name is Tims," piteously uttered the small pale dapper young man ; and my two-barrelled gun has cracked, and carried away my little finger, and a ring that was a real diamond. I bought it at Rundle and Bridges."+ They calls me Price," said the dandy nephy of the late Sir Charles Price, that was o2 Lunnun; and I am come down into Scotland here to shoot in these hereabout parts."

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a

*The Bullers of Buchan, in Aberdeenshire, are among the wonders of Scotland. They are near Slaine's Castle, the residence of the Earl of Errol, and are remarkable for the noise and force with which, at a certain state of the tides, the sea-water is driven up through a sort of welllike cavity in a rock. When Dr. Johnson was in Scotland, the Bullers especially attracted his attention.—M.

† Originally, this Mr. Tims was as much a real character as Wastle or Mullion, but on the appearance. (as a translation from the French of Viscount Victoire de Soligny.) of a tour in England, the wits of Blackwood insisted that their own cockney, Tims, had written it, and ever afterwards, in the "Noctes," and out of it, spoke of Tims, as the Wicount Wictoire." The jewellers, Rundell and Bridges, whom he names, were the leading jewellers in London for many years, (their shop was on Ludgate Hill, near St. Paul's Cathedral,) and the wife of Mr. Rundell was authoress of the famous cooking-book, of which, between 1811 and 1854, about five million copies have been sold. Sir Charles Price was a London banker.-M.

1819.]

THE GAME-BAGS.

15

During this explanation, the Oxonians did not deign to look towards the Cockneys, but Seward kept humming "the bold dragoon," and the "first class man both in Litt. Hum. and Class Phys.," whose voice we had not yet heard, was peeping somewhat inquisitively into the quechs, jugs, and bottles, and occasionally applying one or other of them to his mouth, without meeting any suitable return to his ardor.

We at length found that the Oxonians and the Cockneys had left the Spittal of Glenshee by sunrise, in two totally distinct parties. But that the geography of so wild a country as Scotland, not being much known either in Oxford or the City, both had got bewildered among the everlasting hills and valleys, till, as their good luck would have it, they had joined forces within half a mile of our Tent. A bumper of whisky gave a slight tinge of red to the cadaverous phiz of Tims; and Price got quite jaunty, pulling up the collar of his shirt above his ears, which, you may well believe, were none of the shortest. Nothing could be more amusing to us, than the ineffable contempt with which Christchurch and Brazennose regarded Cheapside and Ludgate Hill; though, to say the truth, the two former seemed just as much out of place as the latter, among the wilds of Braemar; while, in spite of all we could do, to divert the conversation from such subjects, Seward kept perpetually chattering of Jack Ireland, little Jenkins of Baliol, the Dean, the great Tom of Christchurch, and other literary characters of credit and renown.

The Shepherd, eager to put a stop, if possible, to these mystical allusions, requested to see what the gentlemen had got in their bags, and Messrs. Tims and Price silently submitted theirs to the scrutiny. James put his hand boldly in—as well he might-for the lean sides of the wallet plainly showed that there was no danger of his being bitten, and it was seen by the expression of his face, on withdrawing his arm, how truly nature abhors a vacuum. Mr. Tims stood on high ground, for he had burst his gun the first fire, and Mr. Price declared, that though in other respects a finished sportsman, he had never till that day fired a shot. Mr. Seward then called on his man, by the facetious appellation of "Katterfelto," "to bring the spoil," and a knowing knave immediately emptied a huge bag containing two brace of" chirpers" (pouts evidently taken by the hand), and, to the petrifaction of the spectators, an enormous Fox. Tims and Price eyed the animal with intense curiosity, and on hearing its name, the latter declared that though he had now hunted with the Surreyhounds for six years, he had never caught a view of reynard, and would think his journey to Scotland well repaid by the sight of an animal which he had long given up all hopes of ever beholding on this side of the grave. Seward told him, (it was the first time he had ever deigned to address the Cockney) that he was welcome to