_North_.--When I was at Timbuctoo--
_Shepherd (aside.)_--A lang yarn is beginning the noo--
_Moses Edrehi_.--Sind sie geweson, sare, dans I'Afrique?
_North_.--Many years--I was Sultan of Bello for a long period,
until dethroned by an act of the grossest injustice; but I intend to
expose the traitorous conspirators to the indignation of an outraged
world.
_Tickler (aside to Shepherd.)_--He's raving.
_Shepherd (to Tickler.)_--Dementit.
_Odoherty (to both.)_--Mad as a hatter. Hand me a segar.
_Moses Edrehi_.--Yo suis of Madoc.
_North (aside.)_--Zounds! _(to Edrehi)_ I never chanced to
pass that way--the emperor and I were not on good terms.
_Moses Edrehi_.--Then, sare, you was good luck to no pass, for the
emperor was a man ver disagreeáble ven no gut humours. Gott keep ush! He
hat lions in cage--and him gab peoples zu de lions--dey roarsh--oh,
mucho, mucho!--and eats de poor peoples--Gott keep ush! a ver
disagreeáble man dat emperor.
_Shepherd_.--Nae doot--it canna be a pleasant thing to be gobbled
by a lion. Oh, sirs, imagine yoursell daundering out to Canaan, to take
your kail wi' our frien' James, and as ye're passing the Links, out
jumps a lion, and at you!
_Odoherty_.--The Links--oh! James, you are no Polyglott.
_Tickler_.--I don't wish to insinuate that I should like to be
eaten, either by lion or shepherd, but I confess that I consider that
the new drop would be a worse fate than either.
_North_.--Quite mistaken--the drop's a trifle.
_Moses Edrehi_.--Ja whöl, Milord.
_Shepherd_.--As to being hangit, why, that's a matter that happens
to mony a deacent man, and it's but a spurl or tway, and a gaspin
gurble, an' ae stour heave, and a's ower; ye're dead ere a body's weel
certified that the board's awa' from behind you--and the night-cap's a
great blessing, baith to you and the company. The gilliteen again, I'm
tauld its just perfectly ridiculous how soon that does it's turn. Up ye
come, and tway chiels ram your head into a shottle in a door like, and
your hands are clasped ahint ye, and swee gangs the door, and you upset
headforemost, and in below the axe, and hangie just taps you on the neck
to see that it's in the richt nick, and whirr, whirr, whirr, touch the
spring, and down comes the thundering edge, loaded with at least a
hunder weight o' lead--your head's aff like a sybo--Tuts, that's
naething--onybody might mak up their mind to be justified on the
gilliteen.
_Odoherty_.--The old Dutch way--the broadsword--is, after all, the
best; by much the easiest and the genteelest. You are seated in a most
comfortable arm-chair with a silk handkerchief over your eyes--they read
a prayer if you are so inclined--you call for a glass of wine, or a cup
of coffee--an iced cream--a dram--any thing you please, in fact, and
your desires are instantly complied with--you put the cup to the lip,
and just at that moment swap comes the whistling sabre.
_Shepherd_.--Preserve us! keep your hand to yoursell, Captain.
_Odoherty_.--Sweep he comes--the basket is ready, they put a clean
towel over it--pack off the cold meat to the hospital--scrub the
scaffold--take it to pieces--all within five minutes.
_Shepherd_.--That's capital. In fact a' these are civilized
exits--but oh! man, man, to think of a lion on the Burntsfield
Links--what would your gowfers say to that, Mr. Tickler?
_Tickler_.--A rum customer certainly.
_Shepherd_.--Oh! the een, the red, fiery, fixit, unwinkin' een, I
think I see them--and the laigh, deep, dour growl, like the purring o'
ten hundred cats--and the muckle white sharp teeth girnin' and
grundin'--and the lang rough tongue, and the yirnest slaver running
outour the chaps o' the brute--and the cauld shiver---minutes may
be--and than the loup like lightning, and your back-bane broken wi' a
thud, like a rotten rash--and then the creature begins to lick your face
wi' his tongue, and sniffle and snort over owre you, and now a snap at
your nose, and than a rive out o' your breast, and then a crunch at your
knee--and you're a' the time quite sensible, particularly sensible.
_Odoherty_.--Give him a dig in the muzzle, and he'll tip you the
_coup-de-grace_.
_North_.--What a vivid imagination the Shepherd has--well,
cowardice is an inspiring principle.
* * * * *