NIMROD'S NORTHERN TOUR. 113 



Sunday 23rd. That a bad excuse is better than none, is a truism 

 which cannot be doubted, inasmuch as it is, at all events, an acknow- 

 ledgment of a fault. I must then offer two apologies for going to my 

 work on the sabbath — first, not being of the Kirk ; next, by an 

 arrangement made between the three neighbouring packs to meet on 

 certain days, hounds were to be reached from Dunse and Kelso on every 

 day in the week, and therefore, as my route was marked out for me, this 

 was the only day on which it appeared probable that I could ride over to 

 St. Boswell's, to inspect the Duke of Buccleuch's hunting estabhsh- 

 ment — a treat I had not the " moral courage," as Dan O'Connell says, to 

 resist. " Peter," said I to him, as I was going to bed on Saturday night, 

 *' order me a hack in the morning to take me to St. Boswell's." *' Never 

 fear," replied Peter; "a hack shall be at your stables for you, and 

 a good one too." 



Oaths, they say, are but words — words but wind ; and that such they 

 proved here, will be illustrated by the following dialogue on the morrow. 



Nimrod (in a hurry). *' Now, Mr. Dickinson, — the hack." 



Mr, Dickinson. " The hack, sir !" 



AVm. ** Yes, the hack Peter ordered for me, last night." 



Mr. D. " Peter ordered no hack." 



mm, '' Then d— n Peter." 



Mr. D. " Well, sir, p'raps Peter had a wee drap too much 



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