^•PAY AND LEARN.” 
for wRat is there for a man to do about an up-country 
village with neither shooting fishing, or any one to 
speak to ? He had made up his mind to leave next morn- 
ing, and returned to the inn to pack up, and get ready. 
He finds some one there, wishing and waiting to see 
him, who thrusts a slip of paper into his hands, and 
immediately slips off. On examining the contents of 
the paper, our friend finds he must postpone his de- 
parture, as he is summoned to appear before the 
“Bench,” on a charge of trespass and poaching. The 
case did not occupy the Bench long ; our friend ad- 
mitted everything, all the charges were true, he 
merely pleaded ignorance. Although he was called 
a Scotchman, from having been born on Scotch soil, 
yet, from his long absence, he was in a great man- 
ner ignorant of all the customs, usages and rules of 
the land. He did not know he was transgressing the 
laws of the land in walking along the banks of stream, 
in a remote mountain district, and catching a few fish, 
but he was told ignorance of the law was no excuse, 
and that he must pay the penalty, or go to jail. He did the 
former, and mentally remarked, that the old saw 
“Live and learn ” was incomplete, and that attached to 
it should be the additional remark — Pay and learn.” 
Our friend has had enough of the country ; he is off 
to town ; be is not indicted for trespass in walking 
along the streets, and can always get some ^ sort of 
amusement of society, as he feels the inclination. 
Sauntering along the street one afternoon, an ac- 
quaintance puts his arm within his, and asks what has 
become of him, for “ this ever so long.” “Oh,” says 
he, “it’s along story, and I ’m just going to smoke. 
Have a cigar?” “No, no, not here, not here,” says his 
companion fearfully, pushing aside the cigar, “ but 
come vrith me and I will show you a place,” and 
Buddenly he pops down a stair into a tobacconist’s shop. 
A few chairs are standing in front of the counter, 
for any one that chooses to sit down upon ; our 
friend sit down, and proceeds to light a cigar, but 
the companion says, “ Not there, not there, people 
passing along the street will see us — it won’t do ; 
come in here, ” and he disappears through a back door 
into a dark closet, quite concealed from the observa- 
tion of any, even of those who may enter the shop- 
Our friends follows him, but he can’t smoke. The 
little air in the closet is saturated with tobacco smoke 
—it is almost quitejdark, and he feels very uncom- 
fortable, even sick and unwell. “ Let ’s get out of 
this,” says he; the reply to which is, “Stop till I’m 
done, I can’t smoke in the street.” “ Why not V* 
says our friend. The reply was, People would see 
me, and they would talk about it.” “ Well, but is 
