While an advocate, and then plain Mr. Hay, a country client, coming to town for the purpose of consulting him, enquired of some of Mr. Hay's friends at what hour it was proper to call upon him, and was informed that the most propitious time was four o'clock, immediately before the lawyer sat down to dinner. The man accordingly called at four; but was informed that Mr. Hay was at dinner and could see no person-the servant moreover asseverating, that, if he were to disturb his master at this critical moment, it would be as much as his place, or perhaps his life, was worth! The client went away disappointed, promising, however, to call next day a little before four. This he did, when to his surprise he was informed by the lacquey that Mr. Hay could not possibly see himbeing at dinner. "At dinner!" cried the enraged applicant ; "Sirrah, did you not tell me that four was his dinner-hour, and now it wants a quarter of it!"-"Yes sir," said the servant; "but it is not his this day's but his yesterday's dinner, that Mr. Hay is engaged with-so you are ather too early than too late!"

It is related of a certain lord of Session who died within the last twelve years (preceding 1825) that, going home after one of his Saturday-nights' debauches, he stumbled among the sootyman's bags at the end of the Old Town-guard-house in the High street, and, being there overtaken by sleep, did not come to his senses till next forenoon, when the sound of the Tron Kirk bell, rung at ten o'clock to denote the church-going hour, roused him from his dirty lair in the full view of persons passing along the street.

The debaucheries of the great lawyers were imitated by their dependents, and possibly while lords of Sessions and advocates of high practice were bousing over stoups of French claret, or playing at "High Jinks," in Mrs. 's best room, the very next apartment contained heir equally joyous clerks who transacted the same buffooneries, drank the same liquor, swore the same oaths, and retailed the yesterday's jokes of their masters. A housand pictures might be drawn, and en thousand anecdotes related, of these inferior practitioners in the courts of wit and drinking. Jamie M

was one

of those singularly accomplished clerks, who, whether drunk or sober, could pen a paper equally well. His haunt was Luckie Middlemass's in the Cowgate,

where he had a room, with a chair by the fire in winter and one by the window in summer, between which were his only migrations. At late hours, and when far gone, he was often sent for by his master, and, with a sad heart, had to leave his jovial companions and snug parlour, in order to sit down at the dry desk and write some tedious law-paper, which would keep him at work the whole night. On one of these dreary occasions, when apparently both blind and insensible, he found himself at a table in his master's bed-room, required to write a very long paper, which was wanted to be sent to press early next morning. The advocate, being in bad health, lay in bed, with the curtain drawn, and, though his clerk seemed worse than usual, did not entertain the slightest doubt as to his capability of performing the duties of an amanuensis, which he had often done faithfully and well when in a similar condition. Jamie, perfectly confident in his own powers, began in the usual way, by folding in the usual marginal allowance of foolscap, and the bed-fast advocate opened up his flow of dictation, implicit ly believing that not one of his precious words would be suffered to escape by his infallible dependent. He continued to sentence forth his long-winded paragraphs for several hours, and then drawing aside the curtain in order to rise he was thunder-struck, on observing that his clerkfor once faithless-was profoundly sleep ing in his chair, with the paper before him unconscious of ink, and the whole business just as it was before he began to dictate.

OLD EDINBURGH TAVERNS,

Among the remarkable old taverns were Miles Machphail's (who was nicknamed Lord North, on account of his personal resemblance to that celebrated minister) — Luckie Jaup's in Bailie Fyfe's closeMetcalfe's, opposite the old Tolbooth, in the Lawn-Market-Tak' a pint and greet near the Parliament house-Balchild's King's arms Tavern, on the spot now occupied by the Commercial bank—and Mrs. Flockhart's in the Potterow.

Mrs. Flockhart's.

This landlady seems to have been the "Mrs. Flockhart of Waverly."

Mrs. Flockhart, or, as she was more ordinarily called, Luckie Fykie, was a neat,

little, thin woman, usually habited in a plain, striped blue gown, and apron of the same stuff, with a white "mutch," having a black ribbon round the head, and lappels brought down along the cheeks and tied under the chin. She was well to do in the world; as the umquhile John Flucker or Flockhart had left her a good deal of money, together with his whole stock in trade, consisting in a multifarious variety of articles, such as ropes, tea, sugar, whip-shafts, porter, ale, beer, butter, sand, caum stane, herrings, nails, cotton, wicks, papers, pens, ink, wafers, thread, needles, tapes, potatoes, rubbers, gundy, spunks, colored eggs in their seasons, &c. &c.-constituting what was then called a "merchant," and now a small grocer. Mrs. Flockhart sat, moreover, in a “front loft" in Mr. Pattieson's ghostly chapel in Bristo street, and was well-looked-upon by all her neighbours, on account of the quality of her visitors. Her premises were situated directly opposite to Robb's (now Chalmers') Entry; and, within a space about fifteen feet square, she had a shop, dwelling-house, and hotel, agreeably to the following diagram :

A Screen.

HOTEL.

Door.

Potter-row.

Counter.

Door.

Mrs. Flockhart's customers were very numerous and respectable, including Mr. Dundas, afterwards lord Melville,-lord Stonefield, lord Braxfield, Sheriff Cockhurn, Mr. Scott, father of sir Walter -Mr. Donald Smith, banker, and Dr. Cullen. The use and wont of these gentlemen, on entering the shop, and finding Mrs. Flockhart engaged with customers, was, to salute her with "Hoo do ye doo, mem?" and a coup de chapeau, and then walk "ben" to the room, where, upon the bunker seat of the window, they found three bottles, severally containing brandy,

rum, and whiskey, flanked by biscuits and gingerbread; the latter, either in thin, crisp, square cakes, called "Parliament "

in round pieces, denominated "Snaps -or in thin soft cakes, chequered on the surface, and, according to its color, called white or brown "Quality," and biscuits The gentlemen seldom sat down, but, after partaking of what bottle they chose, walked quickly off. Upon certain occasions, there was provided more solid fare than these simple refreshments—such as a chop-steak stew, prepared by Mrs. Flockhart's own skilful hands. This entertainment, termed a "soss," was always laid out on the bunker seat in the closet, which was covered with a clean napkin, there being room besides only for a chair.

After the death of her first husband, Mrs. Flockhart, despairing of another, her stock (£ 800) in the hands of a banker, who allowed her a certain annuity. But she afterwards did procure another husband-namely, a highland pedlar, who, finding his hands much cramped by the annuity affair, proceeded to dilapidate her stock in trade, and was at length caught stealing (ominous article!) a coil of ropes. The old lady's banker, who was also her relation, then ordered the hotel to be shut up; and she died afterwards in Middleton's Entry, while enjoying the said annuity.

Daunie's.

Daniel Douglas's Tavern, or, as it was more commonly called, Duunie's Tavern, was situated in the Anchor close, near the Cross. The house of which it composed one flat is extremely ancient, and was probably built for some rcligious purpose, as over the door, which is the second on the left hand down the close, there is the following inscription—“ o LORD IN THE IS AL MY TRAIST." Dannie's Tavern has been shut up for many years, like a plague-cellar; and the door, and the long, tall, religious-looking windows are overgrown with dust. Of course, it is at present impossible to get admission into the very scene of the orgies of the Pleydells and Fairfords, the Hays and the Erskines, of the last century; but curiosity may be gratified by the sight of the outside of a long line of windows, indicating a gallery within, along which those votaries of bacchanalian glory formerly passed to their orgies.

During the period when it flourished, Douglas's was one of the most noted and

respectable taverns in Edinburgh.

It could only be reckoned inferior to the Star and Garter, in Writer's court, which was kept by Clerihugh, and which was the chief resort of the then magistrates of Edinburgh (who had all their regular parties there,) as well as of Dr. Webster, lord Gardenstone, David Hume, John Home, and James Boswell. The entrance nto Douglas's was by a low narrow passage, and up a few steps-in every respect resembling the description of Pleydell's Saturday-night house in Guy Mannering. The guests, before getting to any of the rooms, had to traverse the kitchen -a dark, fiery Pandemonium, through which numerous ineffable ministers of flame were constantly flying about, like the devils in a sketch of the valley of the Shadow of Death, in the Pilgrim's Progress. Close by the door of the kitchen sat Mrs. Douglas, a woman of immense bulk, splendidly arrayed in a head-dress of stupendous grandeur, and a colored silk-gown, with daisies upon it like sunflowers, and tulips as big as cabbages. Upon the entry of guests, she never rose from her seat, either because she was unable from fatness, or that, by sitting, she might preserve the greater dignity. She only bowed as they passed; there were numerous waiters and slip-shod damsels, ready to obey her directions as to the rooms in which the customers should be disposed; and when they went out, another graceful bend of the head acknowledged her sense of gratitude.

Daunie himself (for so he was always called) was-in perfect contrast to his wife-limber, nimble, and insignificant. He precisely personified Shakspeare's Francis, with only a few more words, but fully as passive and inane. The genius and tongue of his helpmate had evidently been too much for him; she kept him in the most perfect subjection, and he acted under her as a sort of head-waiter. He spoke very seldom-only when he was obliged to do so by a question-and seemed to have no ideas further than what were required to make a monosyllabic answer. Quietness-humble, peaceful, noteless quietness-was the passion of the man. He did every thing quietly-walked quietly, spoke quietly, looked quietly, and even thought quietly. He lived under his breath. So completely was he imbued with the spirit of quiet ness, or such was the effect of his quiet habits, that be acquired a trick of inter

jecting the word "quietly," whenever he opened his mouth, or adding it to the ends of all his little quiet sentences, without regard to the construction of the said sentences, or the turn which it sometimes gave to their sense. Nor could he restrain himself from uttering it, even when speaking of things which had no relation whatever to quietness. A gentleman one day on entering the house, and being attended by Daunie, asked him, in a trivial way, if there were any news to day," No-sir" lisped the weakling,

"though - I-believe-the-Castle has-been-firing-the-day,-quietly. On another occasion, being met in the street, along which he glided like a ghost, he was asked how Mrs. Douglas was to-day, "Ou,-sir,—she's-aye-flytin— away-quietly."

Daunie's Tavern was remarkable, above all other things, for its cheap and comfortable suppers. Vast numbers of people of every rank and profession, not excepting noblemen and judges, used to frequent it on this account. Tripe, minced collops, rizzared haddocks, and huches, were the general fare; and, what will surprise modern hosts, as well as modern guests, sixpence a-head was the humble charge for all these plenteous purveyances! Yet, such were the effects of Daniel's good management, that he got rich upon these charges, and left Mrs. Douglas, when he died, in very good circumstances.

The convivialities of the time appear to have often assumed the shape of supperparties. 66 Undisguised even down drinking" was not the habit of all. There was a considerable minority of respectable persous, who wished to have some excuse for their potations, and this was afforded by their professing to meet at supper. Nevertheless, perhaps, while they seemed to gather together, as by chance, in Mrs. Douglas's, for the mere sake of the "crumb o' tripe," or the "twa-three peas," or the " bit lug o' haddo' " (for such were the phrases), social mirth was in true verity their only object. Nor was the supper without its use; for, though some partook of it only as an incentive to subsequent potations, it generally acted as a sort of ballast in steadying their over-crowded top-sails through the tem. pests of the night.

The rooms in Daune's tavern were all in a string, the kitchen being placed in the first rank, like a fugle-man, and serving to remind the guests, at their entry, of cer

A DRINKING SONG

HIGH JINKS

This drinking sport, well known in "drunken Scotland, Allan Ramsey calls a game, or new project to drink and be rich." Thus, the quaff or cup is filled to the brim; then one of the company takes a pair of dice, and, after crying Hy-jinks, he throws them out the number he casts up points out the person that must drink; he who threw beginning at himself No. 1, and so round till the number of the persons agree with that of the dice (which may fall upon himself if the number be within twelve ;) then he sets the dice to him, or bids him take them: he on whom they fall is obliged to drink, or pay a small forfeiture in money; then throws, and so or. but if he forgets to cry Hy-jinks he pays a forfeiture into the bank. Now he on whom it falls to drink, if there be any think in bank worth drawing, gets it all if he drinks. Then, with a great deal of caution, he empties his cup, sweeps up the money, and orders the cup to be filled again, and then throws; for, if he err in the articles, he loses the privilege of drawing the money. The article are (1) Drink. (2) Draw. (3) Fill. (4) Cry Hy-jinks. (5) Count just. (6) Choose your doublet man, viz. when two equal numbers of the dice are thrown, the person whom you choose must pay a double of the common forfeiture, and so must you when the dice is in hand. “A rare project this," adds honest Allan," and no bubble, I can assure you; for a covetous man may save money, and get himself as drunk as he can desire, in less than an hour's time."

With wine and spirits high,

And we will drink, while round they pass,
To-Vice and Misery!

Push quickly round the draught again
And drink the goblet low;

And drink in revelry's swelling strain,
To-Reason's overthrow.

Push round, push round, in quickest time,
The lowest drop be spent,

In one loud round, to-Guilt and Criwe
And Crime's just punishment!
Fill fill again!-fill to the brim;
To-Loss of honest fame!

Quaff-deeper quaff-while now we dring

Our Wives' and Children's shame!
Push round, and round, with loudest cheers
Of mirth and revelry-
We drink to-

-Woman's sighs and tears,
And-Children's poverty.

Once more! while power shall yet remain,
E'en with its latest breath,
Drink!-To OURSELVES Disease and Pais,
And Infamy and Death!

September 25.

25th September, 1825. About this time a bird of the cormorant kind flying over the river, near Rippon, snapped up a fish, which just at that moment had made a leap from the water; while the bird was devouring his prey he was shot on the banks of the river, and, on being

opened, a gold broach, of the value of ten guineas, was found in his maw. A similar circumstance happened about three months before, near Dewsbury.*

The cormorant subsists upon fish. It is probable that jewellery, coin, and similar articles sometimes found in the stomachs of these voracious birds, had been previously swallowed by their prey.

ΕΡΙΤΑΡΗ.

In the Churchyard of Hythe. His net old fisher George long drew, Shoals upon shoals he caught, "Till Death came hauling for his due, And made poor George his draught.

British Traveller.