Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 109, August 31, 1895

The above never-finished fragment was written by BURNS, with a pencil, standing by the Fall of Fyers (now called Foyers), near Loch Ness.

Shade of ROBERT BURNS, loquitur:--

O "brither Scots," and is it thus, For all your patriotic fuss O'er names and sic-like trifles, Ye can stand by whilst soulless Trade, With greedy pick, and grubbing spade, Old Scotia's charms so rifles? How well the hour my heart recalls, When, fired by all the Muses, I strove to honour Foyers Falls! But now my song refuses Its singing, swift-springing, At sight of Scotia's charms, My song now is wrung now With patriot alarms.

That I, "for poor auld Scotland's sake, Some usefu' plan or beuk could make, Or sing a sang at least," Was aye my wish. But, Scotland dear, What is this shameful news I hear, That racks your poet's breast? That ruthless commerce, spreading wide, Will stain the shores of Ness, And turn those mossy floods aside I sang--with some success? That Beauty and Duty-- It sure must be a hum!-- A Scot still can blot still, For--Aluminium!

I know my country's love of "brass." 'Tis loth to let a bawbee pass, A saxpence bid go bang. Yet "Caledonia stern and wild," Rather than see these Falls defiled, Should bid gross gain go hang! Fancy those "rocky mounds" replaced By refuse-heaps--alack!-- And all the "heathy hills" defaced By smoke and chimney-stack! A tunnel?--Each runnel, In river and cascade, Seems shouting, and flouting The claims of tasteless Trade.

And shall a private company In interests of mere £ s. d. Rob Ness of Beauty's dower? Shall Scotland in new-born stupidity Pander to sordid Trade's cupidity To get cheap water-power? Monopoly tap the torrent-stream, And "viewless Echo's ear" Be harried by the hideous scream Of railway whistles near? I'm firèd, inspirèd! The Muse, though mild and meek, Now dashing, eye-flashing, Assures me I must speak!

Scotland may list her BURNS'S song And stay, ere all too late, a wrong To beauty and herself. She's not so fast midst Mammon's thralls As sacrifice her noblest Falls To paltry greed of pelf. If she'll not heed the patriot's cry, She'll heed the poet's jingle. The prospect fires the Ploughman's eye, And makes his heart strings tingle. Ye're no men, nor wo-men, As Scots ye're false and fickle, Should Trade thus degrade thus The Falls to a poor trickle.

Where are ye, bardlings, full of fire, Who tune to-day a Scottish lyre? Where is your sounding line? No stirring stanza can ye spare? Faith, Sirs, this aluminium scare Should waken all the Nine! Ah! could I hand my lyre to Lang, Loch Ness should echo loud To such a strain as ne'er yet rang In ears of Mammon's crowd. Wake "WULLIE"! 'Twon't sully Your fame, you grand old Scot! For what land like Scotland Should raise your ire red-hot?

In France female enterprise knows no limit and no law. CELESTINE JOLIVET of Belleville--who has a jolly "vay" about her--discovered a son of Mars asleep. "Not hers to reason why hers but his togs to try," so she promptly relieved the slumbering warrior of his uniform and transferred it to her own person, and--doubtless to "cover" the loan--left her own petticoats by the side of the sleeping soldier. Poor Piou-piou had a rude awakening, and was compelled to don the girl's garments, in which unwarlike garb he reached the barracks. CELESTINE was apprehended, and got fifteen days. OFFENBACH would have given her eighteen months.

I am quite sure that, had my revered grandsire survived--as a matter of fact, he passed away some time ago, leaving a valuable connection--he would have moved with the times. In his day he certainly did his best to amuse his pupils by telling them agreeable and instructive stories, but he did not actually join in their sports. I, his descendant, pursue the even tenor of my way on a different tack. I have two lads staying with me during the vacation. Their parents are residing in the Indian portion of the British empire and the Australian colonies. They are bright, intelligent boys, full of high spirits, and yet gifted with an amount of common sense much in advance of their comparatively tender years. GEORGIE BARNWELL is generous to a fault. He will borrow sixpence of a friend to-day, and give half of it to a beggar to-morrow. His companion, JACKY RUSH, is more economical. He, too, will borrow sixpence to-day and supplement it, if possible, by a further loan on the morrow. Consequently JOHN is richer, as a rule, than GEORGE.

"See, Sir," said RUSH to me a morning or so since, "what I have got. Thanks to the kindness of some acquaintances with longer purses than my own, I have acquired a fishing-rod."

"Which I trust you will not allow him to use," put in BARNWELL, impulsively. "He is considerably my junior, and I fear that, were he to fish, he might be drawn by the strength of the current into the water, and possibly be drowned. Such a calamity would be a terrible thing to his parents. What would make such a blow the more acute would be the expense of the telegram conveying the lamentable news to India. On these grounds, revered Sir, I trust you will forbid him the use of the fishing-rod."

"I believe the apprehensions of my comrade are unnecessary," said sensible JACKY. "I feel convinced, however, that they spring from the best motives, as he refused to have anything to do with the purchase of the rod, on the score that he thought I would be tempted to use it. Now that I have bought it with my own money----"

"Your own money," observed GEORGIE, with a smile.

"With money that has passed into my possession," amended the younger lad, "I shall be glad to sell the rod at a considerable discount if such a financial arrangement can be entertained by my well-intentioned companion."

"I am sincerely grieved," replied BARNWELL to this invitation, "to have to say 'No.' A rather extensive purchase of Japanese caramel cannon-balls has entirely exhausted my pecuniary resources. But I am willing to meet JACKY half way. As he has bought the fishing-rod, I shall be glad to hold it for him when we get to the landing-stage, where we propose commencing our search for the denizens of the vasty deep."

It will be noticed by the observant that up to this point the conversation had been conducted in well-chosen words. "Literary elegance in diction" is one of the many extras that appear in the bills delivered quarterly (and payable in advance) to the parents of my cherished charges. To my surprise and annoyance JACKY, instead of retorting with courtesy, merely placed his right hand level with his face, extended the fingers, and allowed the thumb to touch the nose.

"You will see, Sir," said GEORGIE, much shocked at this vulgarity, "that my companion at times is lost to all sense of shame. If you are kind enough to turn aside for a moment, I shall be glad to accomplish a feat known amongst the prize fighters of the earlier part of the present century as punching some one's head."

I complied with my pupil's request, and for some little while there were sounds not entirely unsuggestive of lamentation. Sounds which seemed to cause no little amusement to an observant 'Arry.

Our walk to the place of fishery after this little incident was uneventful. When we reached the spot, a rough-looking mariner was in attendance with what subsequently appeared to be a bag of bait.

"Morning gents, all," said the sailor, respectfully; "I have got what you want. But be careful how you touch them, as they are nasty customers."

This warning was necessary, for GEORGIE (who is of an inquiring character) had placed his hands amongst the worms with results. He uttered an exclamation of pain. "Ah, I thought so!" cried the mariner, looking at my charge's travel-stained palm; "you have been bitten by a blue doctor. Well, all you have to do is to climb up to the moat under that there castle and find some mote weed. Put the weed on the spot and the pain will go like magic."