ved," added he, with all the indifference a
human tone could convey.

"Oh, Cursty," said Lizzie Johnstone, with a peevish accent, "dinna break
the bonny yarn for naething."

_Flucker (returning)._ "He's a' reicht."

_Christie._ "Is he no dead?"

_Flucker._ "Him deed? he's sober--that's a' the change I see."

_Christie._ "Can he speak? I'm asking ye."

_Flucker._ "Yes, he can speak."

_Christie._ "What does he say, puir body?"

_Flucker._ "He sat up, an' sought a gill fra' the wife--puir body!"

_Christie._ "Hech! hech! he was my pupil in the airt o'
sobriety!--aweel, the young judge rises to deliver the sentence of the
coort. Silence!" thundered Christie. A lad and a lass that were slightly
flirting were discountenanced.

_Christie._ "'A pund o' that same mairchant's flesh is thine! the coort
awards it, and the law does give it.'"

_A young Fishwife._ "There, I thoucht sae; he's gaun to cut him, he's
gaun to cut him; I'll no can bide." _(Exibat.)_

_Christie._ "There's a fulish goloshen. 'Have by a doctor to stop the
blood.'--'I see nae doctor in the boend,' says the Jew body."

_Flucker._ "Bait your hook wi' a boend, and ye shall catch yon carle's
saul, Satin, my lad."

_Christie (with dismal pathos)._ "Oh, Flucker, dinna speak evil o'
deegneties--that's maybe fishing for yoursel' the noo!---'An' ye shall
cut the flesh frae off his breest.'--'A sentence,' says Shylock, 'come,
prepare.'"

Christie made a dash _en Shylock,_ and the company trembled.

_Christie._ "'Bide a wee,' says the judge, 'this boend gies ye na a drap
o' bluid; the words expressly are, a pund o' flesh!'"

_(A Dramatic Pause.)_

_Jean Carnie (drawing her breath)._ "That's into your mutton, Shylock"

_Christie (with dismal pathos)._ "Oh, Jean! yon's an awfu' voolgar
exprassion to come fra' a woman's mooth."

"Could ye no hae said, 'intil his bacon'?" said Lizzie Johnstone,
confirming the remonstrance.

_Christie._ "'Then tak your boend, an' your pund o' flesh, but in
cutting o' 't, if thou dost shed one drop of Christian bluid, thou
diest!'"

_Jean Carnie._ "Hech!"

_Christie._ "'Thy goods are by the laws Veneece con-fis-cate,
confiscate!'"

Then, like an artful narrator, she began to wind up the story more
rapidly.

"Sae Shylock got to be no sae saucy. 'Pay the boend thrice,' says he,
'and let the puir deevil go.'--'Here it's,' says Bassanio.--Na! the
young judge wadna let him.--'He has refused it in open coort; no
a