A gentleman conversing with the illustrious author, remarked that he believed it possible that perfect happiness might be enjoyed, even in this world.
Sir Walter dissented.
“Well,” said the gentleman, “there is an idiot whom I am certain will confirm my opinion, he seems the very beau-ideal of animal contentment.”
The daft individual was moving along humming to himself, when Sir Walter addressed him.
“Weel, Jamie, hoo are ye the day?”
“Brawly, ou brawly,” answered he.
“Have you plenty to eat and drink, Jamie?”
“Ou ay.”
“There,” said the poet’s antagonist, crowing, “is a perfectly happy creature.”
“Not so fast,” continued Sir Walter. Then to Jamie—