MISTAKES ABOUT SCOTLAND

(Contributed by a Converted Cockney)

It is a mistake to believe that every Scotchman, when he goes to Edinburgh, immediately walks down Princes Street clad in the ancient costume of the Highlanders.

It is a mistake to believe that the pièce de résistance at every Scotch dinner-party is a haggis.

It is a mistake to believe that a Scotchman does not enjoy a joke every bit as much as an Englishman.

It is a mistake to believe that a Scotch Sabbath in the country is a whit more triste than an English Sunday in the provinces.

It is a mistake to believe that a Scotchman sets a greater value upon his "bawbee" than an Englishman upon his shilling or an American upon his dollar.

It is a mistake to believe that inns in Scotland are dearer and less comfortable than hotels in England.

It is a mistake to believe that we have a city in England that can compare favourably (from an architectural point of view) with the town of Edinburgh.

It is a mistake to believe that it always rains in the Isle of Skye.

It is a mistake to believe that there are no more "Fair Maids" in the houses of Perth.

It is a mistake to believe that Hampstead Heath is as beautiful as Dunkeld.

It is a mistake to believe that the Caledonian Canal is at all like the Serpentine.

It is a mistake to believe that Aberdeen is less imposing in appearance than Chelsea or Islington.

It is a mistake to believe that the countrymen of Scott and Burns do not appreciate the works of Shakspeare, Milton, Byron, Dickens, Thackeray, and Tennyson.

And, lastly (this is added to the Cockney's list by the wisest sage of this or any other age), it is the greatest mistake of all to believe that Mr. Punch does not like and respect (in spite of an occasional joke at their expense) the kindly, homely, sound-hearted people who live north of the Tweed.

After the Races.

Little 'Arry (who has had a "bad day"—to driver of public coach). "Ever lose any money backin' 'orses, coachie?"

Driver. "Not 'alf! Lost twenty quid once—backed a pair of 'orses and a homnibus into a shop window in Regent Street!"

Old Lady. "Dear me, what a nice refined-looking little boy. Why, Jane, he has a mouth fit for a cherub; I really must give him sixpence." [Does so. The Cherub (five seconds later). "S-s-s-s!! Billee! the old gal's give me a tanner!"

BY OUR COCKNEY

When is a yew tree not a yew tree? When it's a 'igh tree.

Talking of that, Mr. P., what a nice line the Great Northern to Hedgware is, to be sure. I am, as you know, werry partickler about my "H"s, but "'ang me," as my friend 'Arry Belleville says, "if t'ain't 'nough to spoil your pronunshiashun for a hage and hall time to 'ave to 'ear such names of stations one atop of tother, as the followin', as called out by the porters an' guards:"

'Olloway. Seven Scissors Road. Crouch Hend. 'Ighgate and'Ampstead. Heast Hend. Finchley and 'Endon. Mill 'Ill. Hedgware.

There's a lot for you! And t'other line goes to 'Arford, 'Atfield, and Saint All-buns. Saint All Buns would be a good feast, eh, sir?

Yours,

Enery.

Hivy 'Ouse, 'Oxton.

First Combatant. "—! —! —! —! &c."

Bystander. "Why don't yer answer 'im back?"

Second Combatant. "'Ow can I? 'E's used all the best words!"