CHRISTOPHER IN HIS SPORTING JACKET 



day and in a lonesome place, by the most heroic chief 

 of the most heroic clan in all the level land of Lud, 

 travelling all by himself in a horse and gig, and with 

 a black boy in a cockaded glazed hat, through the 

 Heelands o"* Scotland, passing of course, at the very 

 least, for a captain of Hussars ! Then Scotchmen canna 

 keep their backs straught, it seems, and are always 

 booin** and booin' afore a great man. Cannot they, 

 indeed? Do they, indeed? Ascend with that Scottish 

 shepherd yon mountain's breast — swim with him that 

 mountain loch — a bottle of Glenlivet, who first stands 

 in shallow water, on the Oak Isle — and whose back 

 will be straughtest, that of the Caledonian or the 

 Cockney? The little Luddite will be puking among 

 the heather, about some five hundred feet above the 

 level of the sea — higher for the first time in his life 

 than St PauPs, and nearer than he ever will again be, 

 either in the spirit or the flesh, to heaven. The little 

 Luddite will be puking in the hitherto unpolluted 

 loch, after some seven strokes or so, with a strong 

 Scottish weed twisted like an eel round its thigh, and 

 shrieking out for the nearest resuscitating machine in 

 a country, where, alas! there is no Humane Society. 

 The back of the shepherd — even in presence of that 

 "great man" — will be as straught as — do not trem- 

 ble. Cockney — this Crutch. Conspicuous from afar 

 like a cairn, from the inn-door at An-ochar, in an 

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