The womankind never looks sae bonnie as in wunter, accepp indeed it may
be in spring. You auld bachelors ken naething o' womankind--and hoo
should ye, when they treat you wi' but ae feelin', that o' derision? Oh,
sirs! but the dear creters do look weel in muffs--whether they haud
them, wi' their invisible hauns clasped thegither in their beauty within
the cozy silk linin', close prest to their innicent waists, just aneath
the glad beatins o' their first love-touched hearts. Or haud them
hingin' frae their extended richt arms, leavin' a' the feegur visible,
that seems taller and slimmer as the removed muff reveals the clasps o'
the pelisse a' the way doon frae neck till feet! Then is there, in a'
the beautifu' and silent unfauldin's o' natur amang plants and flowers,
ony thing sae beautifu' as the white, smooth, saft chafts o' a bit
smilin' maiden o' saxteen, aughteen, or twunty, blossomin' out, like
some bonnie bud or snaw-white satin frae a coverin' o' rough
leaves,--blossomin' out, sirs, frae the edge o' the fur-tippet, that
haply a lover's happy haun had delicately hung ower her gracefu'
shoothers--oh, the dear, delightfu' little Laplander!--_Noctes--
Blackwood's Magazine._
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