Hech, ho, the Highland laddie!
Hech, ho, the Finnon haddie!
Breeks awa',
Heck, the braw,
Ho, the bonnie tartan plaidie!
Hech, the laddie,
Ho, the haddie,
Hech, ho, the cummer's caddie,
Dinna forget
The bannocks het,
Gin ye luve your Highland laddie.
* * * * *
The Member for Sark writes from the remote Highlands of Scotland, where
he has been driving past an interminable series of lochs, to inquire
where the keys are kept? He had better apply to the local authorities in
the Isle of Man. They have a whole House of Keys. Possibly those the
hon. Member is concerned about may be found among them.
* * * * *
[Illustration: ON THE HILLS
_Deer Stalker (old hand, and fond of it)._ "Isn't it exciting? Keep
cool!"
[_Jones isn't used to it, and, not having moved for the last half-hour,
his excitement has worn off. He's wet through, and sinking fast in the
boggy ground, and speechless with cold. So he doesn't answer._
]
* * * * *
[Illustration: 1) MR. BUGGLE'S FIRST STAG.