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motions with increasing jealousy and distrust. At length, when my glance settled on the sheep-skin, he exclaimed, in a tone reproving and harsh, Deil be in ye, Mungo Macubin; will ye let that fiend's baited hook of a gauger sit quietly there, and take an inventory of the only world's goods the oppression of man has left us? Take tent, lad, take tent; ye think him a bird that means nae mischief in his sang; bide ye a bit, ye may find him worse than a water-adder, and as cunning as lang Sandie Frizel the sautman, who praised the tone of your fiddle, and your skill in cupmaking, and having proven the excellence of our distillation, sent auld Wylie Metestick, the gauger, to look at our cavern of curiosities!" I'll tell ye what, John,' said his com" guide your tongue in a panion; less graceless manner, else it may bring your foreteeth and my righthand knuckles acquainted. Gauger! what puts it into thy gowk's head that the lad's a gauger? Thinkest thou that a single exciseman, and ane both soft and slim, would have dropped down into the adder's den? But where's the profit of carousing with such a clod of the valley as thee?' Here the chief manager of this illicit establishment rose, and looked out into the wood; returned to his seat; and thus he resumed his conversation.

"But where's the profit of putting trust in such a capon as thee? When the day comes that we have long looked for, you will put your hand to the full tankard rather than to the sharpened steel. And such a desirable day is not far distant, else let man believe no longer in white paper and black print. What says Ringan Alarum, of the Cowgate, in his strong paper called Liberty's Lighted Match, which auld Davie Dustyhause, the west-country skinman, gave us when we sold him our cannily-come-by skins of three mug

ewes.

Does he not say as much as that the sceptre will soon be more harmless than a shepherd's staff; the mitre as little reverenced as grey hairs, or a scone-bonnet; a coronet as empty as a drunkard's drained cup; and that Sunday shall be as Saturday, and Saturday as Sunday that a silken gown, flounced and furbelowed, will rustle as common in a peasant's sheal. as the plaiden

kirtle of maid Margery; and that Meg Milligan, in her linsey-woolsey, will be as good and as lordly as our madames with their perfumes and pearlins? Now John, my man, should all these pleasant things come to pass, I will build a whiskey-still as big as Wamphray-kirk, with a distillation-pipe large enough to pour a flood of pure spirit over the land, in which we might float a revenue cutter.'

"Flooded as the brain of John.

Mackcleg seemed to be with the spirit which his own industry had produced, he had intellect enough remaining to appear visibly delighted with this promised picture of enjoyment. But his natural want of courage withheld him from indulging in his comrade's strain of unguarded rapture.

6 O Lord, send it soon and sudden, Mungo! O man, soon and sudden! But I conjure ye, by the pith and power of malt, to speak lowne; O, man, speak lowne.*

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Then,' said his comrade, await the coming of the blessed time in silence. When it comes, we shall have whiskey-stills in every kirk, and he that drinks longest shall rule and reign among us. I will choose myself out a warm home in a fertile land. The justice of the peace shall be dumb, and the gauger silent, and his measuring rods regarded no more. Our young men shall drink, and our young maidens dance; the minister of the parish shall fill our cups, and the pulpit and repentance-stool shall hold flagons and mutchkin stoups. I will go to bed with six pint stoups placed at my feet and six at my head; and when I grow doited and dizzy, the sweetest lass in the country-side shall sit and hold my head." And I,' said John Mackcleg, in a low and cautious tone, shall be the first laird of my whole kin: whiskey-brose shall be my breakfast, and my sup-per shall be the untaken-down spirit, with strength enough to float a pistol-bullet. I shall be the first of the name of Mackcleg who owned more land than they measured in the dowie kirkyard.'

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"His companion eyed him with a look particularly merry and ironical; Oh thou ambitious knave,' said Mungo Macubin, dost thou long to be lord of all the land which thou hast measured with thy drunken car-

1822.

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cass? Why, man, thou hast meted out with that genealogical ell-wand half the land 'tween the sea-sand of Caerlaverock and the brown heathy And so thou hills of Durisdeer. thinkest a drunkard's fall on the earth has given thee possession of it? Plague take me, if I give my consent to such a dangerous monopoly. The perverse being to whom this speech was addressed made light of its irony, and seizing a large two-eared quaigh, stooped his face into it till nothing remained above the brim save a fleece of sooty uncombed locks, and drained out the liquor at a breath. He hurled the empty cup to the figure before the fire, and, though opposed by violent hiccupings, exclaimed, More! bring me more! Jock, Jenny that was delicious. Mason's Jock, fill that cog, my man, and hear ye me; come hither and haud it to my head, for I am no sae

Maut.

sicker as I should be; and that whin-stone rock seems as if it would whomble aboon me. And d'ye hear me, Jock Laggengird, let me have none of the dyke-water additions which Mungo Macubin makes to the prime spirit which he drinks. Taxes and stents have made Scotland's crowdie thin, and turned her warm brose into cauld steerie. If ye covet the present length of your lugs, let me have none of your penitential potations."

"While Jenny Mason's descendant crawled to a cask, and turned a pin from which a pure liquid dribbled drop by drop into the cup, Mungo Macubin took down his fiddle, arranged the disordered strings, played a pleasant air, and accompanied it by singing the following rustic verses, which I have since learned were of his own composition.

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MUNGO MACUBIN'S SONG.
1.

Come toom the stoup! let the merry sun shine
On sculptured cups and the merry man's wine;
Come toom the stoup! from the bearded bear,
And the heart of corn, comes this life-drink dear.
The reap-hook, the sheaf, and the flail for me;
Away with the drink of the slave's vine tree.
The spirit of malt sae free and sae frank,
Is my minted money and bonds in the Bank.

2.

Come toom up the stoup; what must be must,
I'm cauld and canker'd, and dry as dust;
A simmering stoup of this glorious weet
Gives soaring plumes to Time's leaden feet.
Let yon stately madam, so mim and so shy,
Arch her white neck proud, and sail prouder by ;
The spirit of maut, so frank and so free,

Is daintier than midnight madam to me.

3.

Drink fills us with joy and gladness, and soon
Hangs canker'd care on the horns of the moon ;

Is bed and bedding; and love and mirth

Dip their wings in drink ere they mount from the earth.
Come toom the stoup-it's delightful to see

The world run round fit, to whomel on me;

And yon boanie bright star, by my sooth it's a shiner,
Ilka drop that I drink it seems glowing diviner.

4.

Away with your lordships of mosses and mools,

With your women, the plague and the play-thing of fools;
Away with your crowns, and your sceptres, and mitres ;
Lay the parson's back bare to the rod of the smiters:

For wisdom wastes time, and reflection is folly,

Let learning descend to the score and the tally.

Lo! the floor's running round, the roof's swimming in glory,
And I have but breath for to finish my story,

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4.

O fair's the falcon in his flight,
Sing brown barley bree;
And sweet's a maiden at midnight,
Sing bree:

And welcome is the sweet sun-light,-
But here's a sweeter, blyther sight,
The blood of barley pouring bright,
For me.

"Such was a part of the song, and the better part of it. As soon as he had ended his unmelodious chaunt, he silently raised the quaigh of liquor to his lips, and laying his head back, the liquid descended into the crevice, as water drops into the chink of a rock. In a moment he

started up, with curses murmuring on his lips, and hurling the quaigh, half full of liquor, at the head of the son of Janet Mason, exclaimed,

Sinner that thou art, thou hast filled my cup out of the barrel of reduced spirit prepared for Andrew Erngrey, the Cameronian.

It is as

cauld and fizzenless as snow-water, though good enough to cheer the saints at a mountain preaching. I tell ye, my man, if you indulge yourself in such unsonsie pranks, I shall bait Mungo Macubin's fox-trap with your left lug.'

"The drunkard's missile was hurled by a hand which it had helped to render unsteady; it flew over the prostrate descendant of Janet Mason, and striking against the furnace, poured its contents into the fire. Such was the strength of the liquid, that, subdued as it was for a devout person's use, the moment it touched the fire a sudden and bright flame gushed up to the roof of the shealing, and, kindling the dried grassy turf, flashed along it like gunpowder. Í started up, and seizing the raw sheepskin, fairly smothered and struck out the flame, which would soon have consumed the whole illicit establishment. As I resumed my seat, Mungo Macubin seized my hand, and nearly wringing it from my wrist, in joy exclaimed, By my faith, lad, ye are a rid-handed one, and well do ye deserve a share in the profits of our distillation. Who would have thought that a stolen sheepskin, or rather the skin of a stolen sheep, could have quenched such a furious flame? And now, let me tell you, John Mackcleg, if you touch whiskey, or let whiskey touch you, for these fourand-twenty hours, I will surely measure out your inheritance with

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that scoundrel carcass of yours.' And with a stamp of his foot, and a lour of his brow, he awed his companion into fear and submission.

ductor of this wild establishment no "I could see that the chief consuspicion. longer regarded me with distrust or He seated himself beif he dreaded outrage; and pulling a tween his fiercer comrade and me, as soiled book from his bosom, appeared to examine it with some attention. It was one of those political labours of the London press, where the author, addressing himself to the mul titude, had called in the powerful aid of engraving to render the obscurity of language intelligible. Our southern peasantry, with that love of the simplicity of ancient days which regards instruction as a trick of state, and wishes to reduce the tyranny of learning to the primitive score and tally, have maintained their natural condition in such entire purity, that literature in addressing them is fain kens. Of these his book was full; to make use of sensible signs and tobut its owner turned over the leaves and at last threw it in contempt into with a dissatisfied and disdainful eye, the cauldron fire. He took up his fiddle again, and after playing snatches of several serious airs, sang some which showed little sympathy with verses with a tone of bitter sorrow the poetry. stanzas. I remember several

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3.

The muse with laurel'd brow in vain
Sweeps by me with her vision'd train ;
I've bow'd my head and ruled my hand
Too long beneath her magic wand.
Shall I
go
shrouded to my hearse,
Full of the folly of vain verse?
I'll court some soberer, surer bliss;
My mind to me my kingdom is.

"Something in the song of Mungo Macubin had awakened a train of thought of a nature too soft for his present hazardous calling; his looks darkened down in a kind of moody sorrow, and I could imagine that retrospection was busy with him. He observed the interest which my looks testified I took in his fate, took me by the hand with much kindness, and said in a mingled tone of bitterness and sorrow, I have often thought that we have less control over our fate than we ought, and that an evil destiny dogs us through life, and pursues us to perdition. Take counsel, I beseech ye, from my words, and warning from my conduct; this shealing contains a being whose fate may be a text for you to preach from till these black locks grow grey.Listen, and then say with the Word, surely one vessel is made for honour, and another for dishonour. All I have cherished, or loved, or looked with kindness upon, have passed away, departed, and sunk to death or dishonour; and all I have saved from the stream of destiny is the wretched wreck on which you look. I beheld men of dull and untutorable intellects blessed and double blessed. I saw the portion of folly growing as lordly as the inheritance of wisdom, and I said in the vanity of my heart, shall I not also be beloved and happy? But man's success is not of his own shaping :-my cattle died, my crops failed, my means perished, and one I loved dearly forgot me; I could have forgiven that-she forgot herself. I have nothing now to solace or cheer me-I look forward without hope, and the present moment is so miserable that I seek to forget myself in the company of two wretches who are not disturbed with those fore

bodings which are as a demon to me. This stringed instrument, the carving of these cups, and the making of that wooden time-piece, with that cauldron brimful to me of the liquor of oblivion, form the sum of all existing enjoyment. But from them, from this sodded sheal, from this barren spot, and this lonesome desart, I shall soon be dragged or driven; for, sorrowful and miserable as I am, my lot is far too happy to last.'

"Never were words more ominously true than the last words of poor Mungo Macubin; even as he spoke a human shadow darkened the door, another succeeded, and a third, and a fourth, followed close behind; he saw all this with a composure of face and an alacrity of resource truly surprizing. He drew his pistol, he bared his sword, and, at the motion of his hand, the silent and prostrate being at the cauldron snatched a piece of blazing fir from the fire, and sought counsel from the conduct or motions of his leader. I heard a sort of suppressed parley at the door, and presently several armed men made a dash through the aperture, exchanging blow and shot with Macubin, who, overthrowing one of the boldest of the officers, forced his way unhurt through all opposition, and disappeared in the thick wood. Meanwhile his companion applying the fir-torch to the roof, the shealing was filled with smoke, and flame, and human outcry. The fire seized the combustible wood, touched the inflammable spirit, and, wrapping all in a flame, ascended in a high and bright column above the green forest. I escaped into the wood, and never saw that wild spot, nor one of those men, more.

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