ng and High Drinking."

Grace was said by the Professor of Divinity, in a macaronic Latin, which
I could by no means follow, only I could hear it rhymed, and I guessed
it to be more witty than reverent. After which the _Senatus Academicus_
sat down to rough plenty in the shape of rizzar'd haddocks and mustard,
a sheep's head, a haggis, and other delicacies of Scotland. The dinner
was washed down with brown stout in bottle, and as soon as the cloth was
removed, glasses, boiling water, sugar, and whisky were set out for the
manufacture of toddy. I played a good knife and fork, did not shun the
bowl, and took part, so far as I was able, in the continual fire of
pleasantry with which the meal was seasoned. Greatly daring, I ventured,
before all these Scotsmen, to tell Sim's Tale of Tweedie's dog; and I
was held to have done such extraordinary justice to the dialect, "for a
Southron," that I was immediately voted into the Chair of Scots, and
became, from that moment, a full member of the University of Cramond. A
little after, I found myself entertaining them with a song; and a little
after--perhaps a little in consequence--it occurred to me that I had had
enough, and would be very well inspired to take French leave. It was not
difficult to manage, for it was nobody's business to observe my
movements, and conviviality had banished suspicion.

I got easily forth of the chamber, which reverberated with the voices of
these merry and learned gentlemen, and breathed a long breath. I had
passed an agreeable afternoon and evening, and I had apparently escaped
scot-free. Alas! when I looked into the kitchen, there was my monkey,
drunk as a lord, toppling on the edge of the dresser, and performing on
the flageolet to an audience of the house lasses and some neighbouring
ploughmen.

I routed him promptly from his perch, stuck his hat on, put his
instrument in his pocket, and set off with him for Edinburgh.

His limbs were of paper, his mind quite in abeyance; I must uphold and
guide him, prevent his frantic dives, and set him continually on his
legs again. At first he sang wildly, with occasional outbursts of
causeless laughter. Gradually an inarticulate melancholy succeeded; he
wept gently at times; would stop in the middle of the road, say firmly,
"No, no, no," and then fall on his back; or else address me solemnly as
"M'lord" and fall on his face by way of variety. I am afraid I was not
always so gentle with the little pig as I m