“I would advise you to keep clear of the doctors, Magnus; believe me, you don’t require them at present;—but come, favour me with a toast.”
Mag. (Filling his glass.) “Weel, sir, I’se do my best to gie ye a gude ane (scratching his head);—weel, sir, ‘Here’s luck.’”
“An excellent toast, Magnus, which I drink with all my heart; and, in return ‘Here’s to your health and happiness, and that of the bride and bridegroom, and the rest of this pleasant company, and a good night to you all.’”
THE GHOST WITH THE GOLDEN CASKET.
By Allan Cunningham.
Is my soul tamed
And baby-rid with the thought that flood or field
Can render back, to scare men and the moon,
The airy shapes of the corses they enwomb?
And what if ’tis so—shall I lose the crown