Mr. Punch in the Highlands, J. A. Hammerton and Charles Keene [books to read romance .txt] 📗
Book online «Mr. Punch in the Highlands, J. A. Hammerton and Charles Keene [books to read romance .txt] 📗». Author J. A. Hammerton and Charles Keene
One day we make an ascension, and we see many grouses. Only we can not to shoot, for it is not yet the season of the huntings. It is but a hill that we mount. The name appears me to be french, but bad written. "Ben Venue", that is to say, "Bienvenu"—soyez le bienvenu. She is one of the first of the Scottish hills, and she says "welcome" in french. It is a pretty idea, and a politeness very amiable towards my country. I salute the hospitable Scotland and I thank her. It is a great country, of brave men, of charming women—ah, I recall to myself some eyes so beautiful, some forms so attracting!—of ravishing landscapes, and, at that epoch there, of a climate so delicious. She has one sole and one great defect. The best Scottish hotels cost very dear, and, my[Pg 172] faith, the two or three that I visited are not great thing like comfortable—ne sont pas grand'chose comme comfortable!
One day we make a little excursion on the Lake of Lomond. The lake is well beautiful, and the steamboat is excellent. But in one certain hotel, in descending from a breack, and before to embark, we take the "lunch." We bargain not, we ask not even the price, we eat at the table d'h�te like all the world in Swiss, in France, even in Germany, when there is but one half hour before the departure of the train or of the boat. Oh la, la! I have eaten in the spanish hotels, on the steamboats of the italian lakes, even in the restaurants—mon Dieu!—of the english railways, but never, never—au grand jamais—have I eaten a d�jeuner like that! One dish I shall forget never; some exterior green leaves of lettuce, without oil or vinegar, which they called a "salad." Parbleu—by blue! In all the history of the world there has been but one man who would have could to eat her with pleasure—Nabuchodonosor!
Agree, &c.,
Auguste.
[Pg 163]
"CANNY"
Sister. "Why, Charles, you've got raw whiskey here!"
Charles. "Well, it's hardly worth while to bring water. We can always find that as we go along—when we want it."
[Pg 165]
CAUTIOUS
Visitor (at out-of-the-way inn in the North). "Do you know anything about salmon-poaching in this neighbourhood?"
Landlady (whose son is not above suspicion).—"Eh—no, sir. Maybe it's a new style of cooking as we haven't heard of in these parts, as you see, sir, we only do our eggs that way; and"—(brightening up)—"if you like 'em, I can get you a dish at once!"
[Pg 166]
A DECIDED OPINION
Proprietor of shootings ("in the course of conversation"). "Yes, but you know, Sandy, it's difficult to choose between the Scylla of a shy tenant, and the Charybdis of——"
Sandy (promptly). "Aweel! Gie me the siller, an' anybuddy that likes may hae the tither!"
[Pg 167]
Chappie (after missing his fourth stag, explains). "Aw—fact is, the—aw—waving grass was in my way."
Old Stalker. "Hoot, mon, wad he hae me bring out a scythe?"
[Pg 168]
Our artist catches it again this winter in the Highlands.
[Pg 169]
A FINE HEAD (BUT NOT OF THE RIGHT SORT OF CATTLE)
Perkins has paid a mint of money for his shooting, and has had bad luck all the season. To-day, however, he gets a shot, only—it turns out to be at a cow!
[Pg 170]
A "SCENE" IN THE HIGHLANDS
Ill-used husband (under the bed). "Aye! Ye may crack me, and ye may thrash me, but ye canna break my manly sperrit. I'll na come oot!!"
[Pg 171]
MR. PUNCH IN THE HIGHLANDS
He is at present on a boating excursion, and describes the motion as extremely pleasant, and has no dread of sea-sickness.
[Pg 173]
"GAME" IN THE HIGHLANDS
Captain Jinks. "Birds plentiful, I hope, Donald?"
Donald. "Tousans, sir—in tousans."
Captain J. "Any zebras?"
Donald (anxious to please). "Is't zebras? They're in tousans, too."
Captain J. "And gorillas, no doubt?"
Donald. "Well, noo an' then we see ane or twa—just like yerself."
[Pg 174]
MISS LAVINIA BROUNJONES'S ADVENTURES IN THE HIGHLANDS
Lavinia takes a siesta,
And the frightful situation she finds herself in at the end of it.
[Pg 175]
Lavinia arrives at a waterfall, and asks its name. The shepherd (not understanding English) informs her in Gaelic that it is called (as Lavinia supposes) "Vicharoobashallochoggilnabo." Lavinia thinks it a very pretty name.
A bright idea strikes the shepherd, and before Lavinia can remonstrate, he transports her, in the usual manner, to the other side.
[Pg 176]
MISS LAVINIA BROUNJONES
She comes suddenly on a strange structure—apparently a native fort, and is just going to sketch it, when a savage of gigantic stature, and armed to the teeth, starts from an ambush, and menaces her in Gaelic!
TWENTY HOURS AFTER Euston, 8 P.M.I'm sick of this sweltering weather.
Phew! ninety degrees in the shade!
I long for the hills and the heather,
I long for the kilt and the plaid;
I long to escape from this hot land
Where there isn't a mouthful of air,
And fly to the breezes of Scotland—
It's never too stuffy up there.
For weeks I have sat in pyjamas,
And found even these were de trop,
And envied the folk of Bahamas
Who dress in a feather or so;
But now there's an end to my grilling,
My Inferno's a thing of the past;
Hurrah! there's the whistle a-shrilling—
We are off to the Highlands at last!
[Pg 180]
Callander, 4 p.m.The dull leaden skies are all clouded
In the gloom of a sad weeping day,
The desolate mountains are shrouded
In palls of funereal grey;
'Mid the skirl of the wild wintry weather
The torrents descend in a sheet
As we shiver all huddled together
In the reek of the smouldering peat.
A plague on the Highlands! to think of
The heat that but lately we banned;
Oh! what would we give for a blink of
The bright sunny side of the Strand!
To think there are folk that still revel
In Summer, and fling themselves down,
In the Park, or St. James? What the d——
Possessed us to hurry from town?
"Out of Tune and Harsh."—First Elder (at the Kirk "Skellin'"). "Did ye hear Dougal? More snorin' in the sermon?"
Second Elder, "Parefec'ly disgracefu'! He's waukened 's a'!"
[Pg 177]
OVERHEARD IN THE HIGHLANDS
First Chieftain. "I say, old chap, what a doose of a bore these games are!"
Second Chieftain. "Ah, but, my dear boy, it is this sort of thing that has made us Scotchmen what we are!!"
[Pg 178]
"SERMONS IN STONES"
Tourist (of an inquiring and antiquarian turn). "Now I suppose, farmer, that large cairn of stones has some history?"
Highland Farmer. "Ooh, aye, that buig o' stanes has a gran' history whatever!"
Tourist (eagerly). "Indeed! I should like to—— What is the legend——?"
Farmer. "Just a gran' history!" (Solemnly.) "It took a' ma cairts full and horses sax months to gather them aff he land and pit them ther-r-re!!"
[Pg 179]
JETSAM AND FLOTSAM
Smith being shut out from the Continent this year, takes a cottage orn�e on Dee-Side. Scotland. The children are sent up first. The house is described as "conveniently furnished"—they find it so!
[Pg 181]
IN THE WILDS OF THE NORTH.
Hungry Saxon (just arrived, with equally hungry family). "Well, now—er—what can you give us for dinner, as soon as we've had a wash?"
Scotch Lassie. "Oh, jist onything!"
H. S. (rubbing his hands in anticipation). "Ah! Now we'll have a nice juicy steak."
Lassie. "A—weel. We'll be haein' some steak here maybe by the boat i' the morn's morn!"
H. S. (a little crestfallen). "Oh—well—chops then. We'll say mutton chops."
Lassie. "Oh, ay, but we've no been killin' a sheep the day!"
[Ends up with boiled eggs, and vows to remain at home for the future.
[Pg 182]
THE DUKE OF ATHOLL'S SHILLING (1851)The North British Mail assures us that the Duke of Atholl exacts one shilling a head from every person taking a walk in his ground at Dunkeld. This is rather dear; but the impost would be insupportable if his Grace insisted upon also showing himself for the money.
A HIGHLAND CORONACH Or Lament over the Acts and State of the Duke of Atholl.After Scott.
He has shut up the mountain,
He has locked up the forest,
He has bunged up the fountain,
When our need was the sorest;
The traveller stirring
To the North, may dogs borrow;
But the Duke gives no hearing,
No pass—but to sorrow.
The hand of the tourist
Grasps the carpet-bag grimly,
But a face of the dourest
Frowns through the Glen dimly.
The autumn winds, rushing,
Stir a kilt of the queerest,
Duke and gillies come crushing
Where pleasure is nearest!
Queer foot on the corrie,
Oddly loving to cumber—
Give up this odd foray,
Awake from your slumber!
Take your ban from the mountain,
Take your lock from the river,
Take your bolt from the fountain,
Now at once, and for ever!
[Pg 183]
The sad fate of our only ham.—The pursuit.
[Pg 184]
A RARA MONGRELLIS
Tourist. "Your dog appears to be deaf, as he pays no attention to me."
Shepherd. "Na, na, sir. She's a varra wise dog, for all tat. But she only speaks Gaelic."
[Pg 185]
"IN FOR IT"
Innocent Tourist. "No fish to be caught in Loch Fine now? And how do you support yourself?"
Native. "Whiles she carries parcels, and whiles she raws people in ta poat, and whiles a shentleman 'ull give her a saxpence or a shillin'!"
[Pg 186]
A BLANK DAY
The Keeper (to Brown, who rents the forest). "Doon wi' ye! Doon wi' ye! Get ahint a stang!"
Brown (out of temper—he had been "stalking" about all the morning, and missed several times). "Yes, it's all very well to say 'Get behind a stone.' But show me one!—show me one!!"
[Pg 187]
Mr. Punch passes a night at
McGillie Cullum Castle.
The Laird, as a delicate compliment, serenades him.
[Pg 188]
A BAD SEASON
Sportsman. "I can assure you, what with the rent of the moor, and my expenses, and 'what not,' the birds have cost me—ah—a sovereign apiece!!"
Keeper. "A' weel, sir! 'Deed it's a maircy ye didna kill na mair o' 'em!!"
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