CHRISTOPHER IN HIS SPORTING JACKET 



— a long, a loud, an oft -repeated halloo! Rab Roger, 

 honest fellow, and Leezy Muir, honest lass, from the 

 manse, in search of our dead body! Rab pulls our 

 ears lightly, and Leezy kisses us from the one to the 

 other — wrings the rain out of our long yellow hair 

 — (a pretty contrast to the small grey sprig now on 

 the crown of our pericranium, and the thin tail acock 

 behind) — and by and by stepping into Hazel-Dean- 

 head for a drap and a "chitterin"* piece," by the time 

 we reach the manse we are as dry as a whistle — take 

 our scold and our pawmies from the minister — and, 

 by way of punishment and penance, after a little hot 

 whisky toddy, with brown sugar and a bit of bun, 

 are bundled off to bed in the daytime! 



Thus we grew up a Fowler, ere a loaded gun was in 

 our hand — and often guided the city -fowler to the 

 haunts of the curlew, the plover, the moorfowl, and 

 the falcon. The falcon! yes — in the higher region of 

 clouds and cliffs. For now we had shot up into a 

 stripling — and how fast had we so shot up you may 

 know, by taking notice of the schoolboy on the play- 

 green, and two years afterwards discovering, perhaps, 

 that he is that fine tall ensign carrying the colours 

 among the light-bobs of the regiment, to the sound of 

 clarion and flute, cymbal and great drum, marching 

 into the city a thousand strong. 



We used in early boyhood, deceived by some un- 

 ['l03] 



