Puff,' said Scott, 'it would
burst and blow you to the devil before your time.' 'Johnny, my man,'
said Constable, 'what the mischief puts drawing at sight into _your_
head?' Scott laughed heartily at this innuendo; and then observing
that the little man felt somewhat sore, called attention to the notes
of a bird in the adjoining shrubbery. 'And by-the-bye,' said he, as
they continued listening, ''tis a long time, Johnny, since we have had
"The Cobbler of Kelso."' Mr. Puff forthwith jumped up on a mass of
stone, and seating himself in the proper attitude of one working with
an awl, began a favourite interlude, mimicking a certain son of
Crispin, at whose stall Scott and he had often lingered when they were
schoolboys, and a blackbird, the only companion of his cell, that used
to sing to him while he talked and whistled to it all day long. With
this performance Scott was always delighted. Nothing could be richer
than the contrast of the bird's wild, sweet notes, some of which he
imitated with wonderful skill, and the accompaniment of the cobbler's
hoarse, cracked voice, uttering all manner of endearing epithets,
which Johnny multiplied and varied in a style worthy of the old women
in Rabelais at the birth of Pantagruel.
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