Scotland; that Scotland was just the place for
farthing transactions. But no; you cannot even
buy a farthing's worth of sweeties. The Scotch
shopkeeper will recognise nothing less than the
bawbee. Another example of the indifference of
home-keeping Scots to petty transactions. I
break a fishing-rod, and walk into a saddler's shop
for a hank of waxed thread. The saddler puts
aside the work upon which he is engaged, to
prepare the thread. When he has finished it and
hands me the thread, I ask, How much? "Oh,
nothing," he says, "it's not worth mentioning;
you're quite welcome." Now, I am very certain
that an English saddler, who is not canny, and
who is not fond of his bawbees, would make some
charge, if it were only a halfpenny. I don't say
that the Scot is indifferent to halfpence; but he
has a strong feeling of pride, and loves to
maintain his dignity. This honourable feeling
animates even the very poor. I met a poor old man
on the road one day, and asked him if he could
accommodate me with a light for my cigar. He
took out a flint and steel, and a bit of matchpaper,
and promptly complied with my request
—and he did not beg for a "bit of bacca."
There are beggars in Scotland, as elsewhere, but
they are professional beggars. You will never
find a person who is in work—though he may be
in need of many things—holding out his hand for
alms.

The independence of the Scotch poor,
however, is not what it was. It has been assailed of
late years by the introduction of the English
poor-law, and I regret to hear has succumbed to
the demoralising influence of that system. Before
the poor-law was introduced, the poor of the
parish were relieved from funds collected at the
parish church. Every Sunday, at the close of
the service, the "brod," as it is called (a money-
box at the end of a stick), was pushed round,
and every one contributed a halfpenny or a penny.
The amount thus collected was not great; but it
was found sufficient; for none but the aged, the
decrepid, and the sick, would consent to accept
aid from the "brod." In the majority of cases
the recipients were old women, and the relief
which they received was regarded as the voluntary
alms of their more fortunate neighbours.
At this time it would have been an everlasting
disgrace to a young person to accept bawbees
from the brod. But the moment parish relief
was declared to be a right established by act of
parliament, the old scruple began to wear off;
and in a very short time young women who got
into trouble, and young men who fell sick, or
lost their employment, threw themselves upon
the rates without shame or compunction. These
are the words of a Scotch guardian of the poor:
"The new poor-law has broken the spirit, and
destroyed the independence of the lower classes
of the Scottish people." Yet this poor-law was
a necessity. The disruption of the Church drove
more than half the people into a new fold, where
the system was voluntary. The established
churches lost half of their congregations, and the
brod half its treasure of bawbees. It was necessary
to call in the aid of law to make the seceders
pay their share towards the support of the
poor. And pauperism grew by what it fed on.

CHOLERA IN INDIA.

ALTHOUGH I am not a medical man, and not
pretending to more knowledge of medicine than
is necessary to prescribe a dose of effervescent
magnesia to one of my children, few persons
have seen more of Asiatic cholera. My first
introduction to this fearful scourge I shall never
forget. I had just arrived in the north-west
provinces in India to join my first regiment.
Although not in the presence of an enemy, the
station where we were quartered was a new one,
and we were still under canvas. Much to
my delight, I found among the junior cornets
of the corps a young fellow who had been
with me at Westminster. When I arrived,
he was absent on a month's leave, shooting in
the jungles. He left word, however, with a
brother-officer to look after my comfort, and I
was asked to live with this gentleman until I
could procure a tent for myself. This I did in a
very few days, and, having engaged the requisite
servants, began to feel myself quite at home.
Early one morning, after I had been present for
about a fortnight with the regiment, Johnsone
came over at once to see me. He was a cheery,
hearty young fellow; tall, of large make, and
up to every kind of manly, healthy exercise.
Between leaving school and entering the army,
he had spent a year at Cambridge, where he
had been in the first boat's crew and the crack
eleven cricketers of the college. But his great
passion was shooting, and to enjoy the sport of
following large game, he had thrown up the prospect
of being appointed to a regiment at home,
and got himself gazetted to a corps serving in
India. I shall never forget him as he sat by my
bedside that morning—for I was not up when
he arrived—and told me what glorious sport he
had had, and how he had, with four other men,
brought down, in the month he had been away,
three royal tigers, two bears, four or five cheetahs,
and "no end" of antelope and such-like
small deer, besides having taken several "first
spears" in hog hunting. Although he had only
been a year with the regiment, Johnsone was a
great favourite with all his brother-officers, as,
indeed, a good-tempered, good-hearted young
fellow, with plenty of courage, and a capital rider,
is sure to be.

It was not the fashion amongst the officers of
my regiment of Light Dragoons to indulge in
tiffin. We took late breakfasts instead. The day
that my friend arrived from his shooting trip, he
insisted that I should come over to breakfast
with him, both in order to talk over some mutual
friends in England, and that he might introduce
me to two of the party—one a young civil
servant, the other an officer of a native infantry corps
—who had been out in the jungle with him.
We sat down eight to table, and, although