Chapter VII: Part 7

An honest Highlander, a genuine lover of sneeshin, observed, standing at the door of the Blair Athole Hotel, a magnificent man in full tartans, and noticed with much admiration the wide dimensions of his nostrils in a fine up-turned nose. He accosted him and, as his most complimentary act, offered him his mull for a pinch.

The stranger drew up and rather haughtily said: "I never take snuff."

"Oh," said the other, "that's a peety, for there's gran' _accommodation_."

=Two Methods of Getting a Dog Out of Church=

I had an anecdote from a friend of a reply from a betheral (beadle) to the minister _in_ church, which was quaint and amusing from the shrewd self-importance it indicated in his own acuteness. The clergyman had been annoyed during the course of his sermon by the restlessness and occasional whining of a dog, which at last began to bark outright. He looked out for the beadle, and directed him very peremptorily, "John, carry that dog out."

John looked up to the pulpit and, with a very knowing expression, said: "Na, na, sir; I'se just mak' him gae out on his ain four legs." [7]

=Born Too Late=

A popular English nonconformist minister was residing with a family in Glasgow, while on a visit to that city, whither he had gone on a deputation from the Wesleyan Missionary Society. After dinner, in reply to an invitation to partake of some fine fruit, he mentioned to the family a curious circumstance concerning himself, viz.: that he had never in his life tasted an apple, pear, or grape, or indeed any kind of green fruit. This fact seemed to evoke considerable surprise from the company, but a cautious Scotchman, of a practical matter-of-fact turn of mind, and who had listened with much unconcern, drily remarked: "It's a peety but ye had been in Paradise, an' there might na hae been ony faa'."

=A Preacher with his Back Towards Heaven=

During one of the religious revivals in Scotland, a small farmer went about preaching with much fluency and zeal, the doctrine of a "full assurance" of faith, and expressed his belief of it for himself in such extravagant terms as few men would venture upon who were humble and cautious against presumption. The preacher, being personally rather remarkable as a man of greedy and selfish views in life, excited some suspicion in the breast of an old sagacious countryman, a neighbor of Dr. Macleod, who asked what _he_ thought of John as a preacher, and of his doctrine?

Scratching his head, as if in some doubt, he replied, "_I never ken't a man sae sure o' heaven and so sweert_ (slow) _to be gaing taet_." [5]

=Nearer the Bottom than the Top=

A little boy who attended a day school near his home, was always asked in the evening how he stood in his own class. The invariable answer was, "I'm second dux," which means, in Scottish academical language, second from the top of the class. As his habits of application at home did not quite bear out the claims to so distinguished a literary position at school, one of the family ventured to ask what was the number in the class to which he was attached. After some hesitation, he was obliged to admit, "Ou, there's jist me and _anither lass_."

=A Crushing Argument against MS. Sermons=

A clergyman thought his people were making rather an unconscionable objection to his using an MS. in delivering a sermon.

They urged, "What gars ye tak' up your bit papers to the pu'pit?"

He replied that it was best, for really he could not remember his sermons, and must have his paper.

"Weel, weel, minister, then dinna expect that _we_ can remember them."

=Mortal Humor=

Humor sometimes comes out on the very scaffold. An old man was once hanged for complicity in a murder. The rope broke, and he fell heavily to the ground. His first utterance when his breath returned to him was, "Ah, sheriff, sheriff, gie us fair hangin'."

His friends demanded that he should be delivered up to them, as a second hanging was not contemplated in the sentence. But the old man, looking round on the curious crowd of gazers, and lifting up his voice, said, "Na, na, boys, I'll no gang hame to my neighbors to hear people pointing me oot as the half-hangit man; I'll be hangit oot."

And he got his wish five minutes after.

=A Fruitful Field=

The following anecdote was communicated to me by a gentleman who happened to be a party to the conversation detailed below. This gentleman was passing along the road not one hundred miles from Peterhead one day. Two different farms skirt the separate sides of the turnpike, one of which is rented by a farmer who cultivates his land according to the most advanced system of agriculture, and the other of which is farmed by a gentleman of the old school.

Our informant met the latter worthy at the side of the turnpike, opposite his neighbor's farm, and seeing a fine crop of wheat upon what appeared to be (and really was) very poor and thin land, asked, "When was that wheat sown?"

"O, I dinna ken," replied the gentleman of the old school, with a sort of half indifference, half contempt.

"But isn't it strange that such a fine crop should be reared on such bad land?" asked our informant.

"O, na--nae at a'--devil thank it; a gravesteen wad gie guid bree gin ye geed it plenty o' butter." [7]

=The "Minister's Man"=

The "minister's man" was a functionary now less often to be met with. He was the minister's own servant and _factotum_. Amongst this class there was generally much Scottish humor and original character. They were (like the betheral, or beadle) great critics of sermons, and often severe upon strangers, sometimes with a sly hit at their own ministers. One of these, David, a well-known character, complimenting a young minister who had preached, told him, "Your introduction, sir, is aye grand; it's worth a' the rest o' the sermon,--could ye no' mak' it a' introduction?"

David's criticisms of his master's sermons were sometimes sharp enough and shrewd. On one occasion, the minister was driving home from a neighboring church where he had been preaching, and where he had, as he thought, acquitted himself pretty well, inquired of David what _he_ thought of it. The subject of discourse had been the escape of the Israelites from Egypt. So David opened his criticism:

"Thocht o't, sir? Deed I thocht nocht o't ava. It was a vara imperfect discourse, in ma opinion; ye did well eneucht till ye took them through, but where did ye leave them? Just daunerin' o' the sea-shore without a place to gang till. Had it no' been for Pharaoh they had been better on the other side, where they were comfortably encampit than daunerin' where ye left them. It's painful to hear a sermon stoppit afore it is richt ended, just as it is to hear ane streeket out lang after it's dune. That's my opinion o' the sermon ye geid us to-day."

"Very freely given, David, very freely given; drive on a little faster, for I think ye're daunerin' noo, yersell." [7]

=A New and Original Scene in "Othello"=

At a Scottish provincial theatre, a prompter named Walls, who, being exceedingly useful, frequently appeared on the stage, happened one evening to play the Duke, in "_Othello_." Previous to going on, he had given directions to a girl-of-all-work, who looked after the wardrobe, to bring a gill of best whiskey. Not wishing to go out, as the evening was wet, the girl deputed her little brother to execute the commission. The senate was assembled, and the speaker was--

_Brabantio_: "For my particular grief is of so floodgate and o'erbearing nature, that it engluts and swallows other sorrows, and is still itself."

_Duke_: "Why, what's the matter?"

Here the little boy walked on to the stage with a pewter gill stoup, and thus delivered himself:

"It's just the whusky, Mr. Walls, and I couldna get ony at fourpence, so yer awn the landlord a penny, an' he says it's time you were payin' whet's doon i' the book."

The roars of laughter which followed from both audience and actors for some time prevented the further progress of the play.

=The Shape of the Earth=

A country schoolmaster of the old time was coaching his pupils for the yearly examination by the clergymen of the district. He had before him the junior geography class.

"Can any little boy or girl tell me what is the shape of the earth?"

To this there was no answer.

"Oh, dear me, this is sad! What wull the minister sink o' this? Well, I'll gie you a token to mind it. What is the shape o' this snuff-box in ma han'?"

"Square, sir," replied all.

"Yes; but on the Sabbath, when a shange ma claes, I shange ma snuff-box, and I wears a round one. Will you mind that for a token?"

Examination day came, and the junior geography class was called.

"Fine intelligent class this, Mr. Mackenzie," said one of the clergymen.

"Oh, yes, sir, they're na boor-like."

"Can any of the little boys or girls tell me what is the shape of the earth?"

Every hand was extended, every head thrown back, every eye flashed with eager excitement in the good old style of schools. One was singled out with a "You, my little fellow, tell us."

"Roond on Sundays, and square all the rest o' the week."

=Rivalry in Prayer=

Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, has a wide-awake Presbyterian elder of Scotch character, who, although a persistent advocate of the Westminster Confession, occasionally for convenience sake--and from an innate love of religious intercourse--attends the meetings of his Methodist brethren.

At a recent prayer-meeting that was held preparatory to a centennial service in commemoration of the progress of Methodism in Nova Scotia, the presiding minister dwelt eloquently upon the wonderful growth and prosperity of the Methodist Church, and upon the life of its great founder, John Wesley. He also expressed thankfulness that on that day there were one hundred and nine Methodist ministers in Nova Scotia. The meeting thus very decidedly assumed a denominational character, but the minister asked the good Presbyterian brother to lead in prayer at the close. The elder complied, and after thanking God for the many good things he had just heard "about this branch of Zion," he added, with much depth and feeling, "O Lord, we thank Thee for _John Knox_; we thank Thee for the one hundred and nine Methodist ministers in our country, but we _especially_ thank Thee for the _one hundred and thirteen_ Presbyterian ministers who are preaching the Word of Life throughout our land. Amen."

=A Compensation Balance=

The answers of servants often curiously illustrate the habits and manners of the household. A bright maid-of-all-work, alluding to the activity and parsimony of her mistress, said, "She's vicious upo' the wark, but, eh, she's vary mysterious o' the victualing."

=The "Sawbeth" at a Country Inn=

The Rev. Moncure D. Conway, while traveling in the neighborhood of the Hebrides, heard several anecdotes illustrative of the fearful reverence with which Scotchmen in that region observe the Sabbath. Says he: "A minister of the kirk recently declared in public that at a country inn he wished the window raised, so that he might get some fresh air, but the landlady would not allow it, saying, 'Ye can hae no fresh air here on the Sawbeth.'" [11]

=Scotchmen Everywhere=

Was ever a place that hadn't its Scotchman? In a late English publication we find an account of a gentleman traveling in Turkey, who, arriving at a military station, took occasion to admire the martial appearance of two men. He says: "The Russian was a fine, soldier-like figure, nearly six feet high, with a heavy cuirassier moustache, and a latent figure betraying itself (as the 'physical force,' novelists say) in every line of his long muscular limbs. Our pasha was a short thick-set man, rather too round and puffy in the face to be very dignified; but the eager, restless glance of his quick gray eye showed that he had no want of energy. My friend, the interpreter, looked admiringly at the pair as they approached each other, and was just exclaiming, 'There, thank God, are a real Russian and a real Turk, and admirable specimens of their race, too!' when suddenly General Sarasoff and Ibraham Pasha, after staring at each other for a moment, burst forth simultaneously, 'Eh, Donald Cawmell, are _ye_ there?' 'Lord keep us, Sandy Robertson, can this be _you_?'"

=A Bookseller's Knowledge of Books=

A Glasgow bailie was one of a deputation sent from that city to Louis Philippe, when that monarch was on the French throne. The king received the deputation very graciously, and honored them with an invitation to dinner. During the evening the party retired to the royal library, where the king, having ascertained that the bailie followed the calling of bookseller, showed him the works of several English authors, and said to him: "You see, I am well supplied with standard works in English. There is a fine edition of Burke."

The magistrate, familiar only with Burke the murderer, exclaimed: "Ah, the villain! I was there when he was hanged!"

="Fou'--Aince"=

George Webster once met a shepherd boy in Glenshee, and asked, "My man, were you ever fou'?"

"Ay, aince"--speaking slowly, as if remembering--"Ay, aince."

"What on?"

"Cauld mutton!" [12]

=Sunday Drinking=

Dr. M----, accompanied by a friend, took a long walk on Sunday, and being fatigued, the two stopped at an inn to get some refreshment. The landlord stopped them at the door with the question whether they were _bona fide_ travelers, as such alone could enter his house on Sunday. They said they were from London, and were admitted. They were sent bread and cheese and stout. The stout was bad, and they sent for ale; but that being worse, they sent for whiskey. The landlord refused this, saying they had enough for their bodily necessities.

After a great deal of urging for the whiskey, which the landlord withstood, M---- said, "Very well; if you won't sell us whiskey, we must use our own," at the same time pulling a flask out of his pocket.

This was more than the Scotchman could stand. The sin was to be committed, and there would be no compensation to its heinousness in the way of profit to his inn. "Ah, weel," he said, "if ye maun have the whiskey, ye maun, an' I'll send ye the mateyrials."

=Drawing an Inference=

A certain functionary of a country parish is usually called the _minister's man_, and to one of these who had gone through a long course of such parish official life, a gentleman one day remarked--"John, ye hae been sae lang about the minister's hand that I dare say ye could preach a sermon yersell now."

To which John modestly replied, "O na, sir, I couldna preach a sermon, but maybe I could draw an inference."

"Well, John," said the gentleman, humoring the quiet vanity of the beadle, "what inference could ye draw frae this text, 'A wild ass snuffeth up the wind at her pleasure!" (Jer. ii: 24).

"Weel, sir, I wad draw this inference:--she wad snuff a lang time afore she would fatten upon't." [7]

=Going to Ramoth Gilead=

A sailor, who had served the king so long at sea that he almost forgot the usages of civilized society on shore, went one day into the church at his native town of Kirkcaldy, in Fife, where it happened that the minister chose for his text the well-known passage, "Who will go up with us to Ramoth Gilead?"

This emphatic appeal being read the second time, and in a still more impressive tone of voice, the thoughtless tar crammed a quid of tobacco into his cheek, rose up, put on his hat; then, looking around him, and seeing nobody moving, he exclaimed, "You cowardly lubbers! will none of you go with the old gentleman? I go for one."

So out he went, giving three cheers at the door, to the amazement of all present.

=Why Saul Threw a Javelin at David=

A High-Churchman and a Scotch Presbyterian had been at the same church. The former asked the latter if he did not like the "introits."

"I don't know what an introit is," was the reply.

"But did you not enjoy the anthem?" said the churchman.

"No, I did not enjoy it at all."

"I am very sorry," said the churchman, "because it was used in the early church; in fact, it was originally sung by David."

"Ah!" said the Scotchman, "then that explains the Scripture. I can understand why, if David sung it at that time, Saul threw his javelin at him."

=A Sexton's Criticism=

The following criticism by a Scotch sexton is not bad:

A clergyman in the country had a stranger preaching for him one day, and meeting his sexton, asked, "Well, Saunders, how did you like the sermon to-day?"

"It was rather ower plain and simple for me. I like thae sermons best that jumbles the joodgment and confoonds the sense. Od, sir, I never saw ane that could come up to yoursel' at that."

=Strange Reason for Not Increasing a Minister's Stipend=

A relative of mine going to church with a Forfarshire farmer, one of the old school, asked him the amount of the minister's stipend.

He said, "Od, it's a gude ane--the maist part of £300 a year."

"Well," said my relative, "many of these Scotch ministers are but poorly off."

"They've eneuch, sir; they have eneuch; if they'd mair, it would want a' their time to the spending o't." [7]

=Pulpit Eloquence=

An old clerical friend upon Speyside, a confirmed old bachelor, on going up to the pulpit one Sunday to preach, found, after giving out the psalm, that he had forgotten his sermon. I do not know what his objections were to his leaving the pulpit and going to the manse for his sermon, but he preferred sending his old confidential housekeeper for it. He accordingly stood up in the pulpit, stopped the singing, when it had commenced, and thus accosted his faithful domestic: "Annie, I say, Annie, _we've_ committed a mistake the day. Ye maun jist gang your waa's hame, and ye'll get my sermon out o' my breek pouch, an' we'll sing to the praise o' the Lord till ye come back again." [7]

=Maunderings, by a Scotchman=

The following is said by _Chambers' Journal_ to have been written by a Scotchman. If so, the humorous way in which he is taking off a certain tendency of the Scotch mind, is delicious; if by an Englishman, the humor will be less keen, though not less fair.

I am far frae being clear that Nature hersel', though a kindly auld carline, has been a'thegither just to Scotland seeing that she has sae contrived that some o' our greatest men, that ought by richt to hae been Scotchmen, were born in England and other countries, and sae have been kenned as Englishers, or else something not quite sae guid.

There's glorious old Ben Jonson, the dramatic poet and scholar, that everybody tak's for a regular Londoner, merely because he happened to be born there. Ben's father, it's weel ken't, was a Johnston o' Annandale in Dumfriesshire, a bauld guid family there to this day. He is alloo't to hae been a gentleman, even by the English biographers o' his son; and, dootless, sae he was, sin' he was an Annandale Johnston. He had gane up to London, about the time o' Queen Mary, and was amang them that suffered under that sour uphalder o' popery. Ben, puir chiel', had the misfortune first to see the light somewhere aboot Charing Cross, instead o' the bonnie leas o' Ecclefechan, where his poetic soul wad hae been on far better feedin' grund, I reckon. But nae doot, he cam' to sit contented under the dispensations of Providence. Howsomever, he ought to be now ranked amang Scotchmen, that's a'.

There was a still greater man in that same century, that's generally set down as a Lincolnshire-man, but ought to be looked on as next thing till a Scotchman, if no' a Scotchman out and out; and that's Sir Isaac Newton. They speak o' his forebears as come frae Newton in Lancashire; but the honest man himsel's the best authority aboot his ancestry, I should think; and didna he say to his friend Gregory ae day: "Gregory, ye warna aware that I'm o' the same country wi' yoursel'--I'm a Scotchman." It wad appear that Sir Isaac had an idea in his head, that he had come somehow o' the Scotch baronet o' the name o' Newton; and nothing can be better attested than that there was a Scotchman o' that name wha became a baronet by favor o' King James the Sixt (What for aye ca' him James the _First_?) having served that wise-headed king as preceptor to his eldest son, Prince Henry. Sae, ye see, there having been a Scotch Newton who was a baronet, and Sir Isaac thinking he cam' o' sic a man, the thing looks unco' like as if it were a fact. It's the mair likely, too, frae Sir Adam Newton having been a grand scholar and a man o' great natural ingenuity o' mind; for, as we a' ken right weel, bright abilities gang in families. There's a chiel' o' my acquentance that disna think the dates answer sae weel as they ought to do; but he ance lived a twalmonth in England, and I'm feared he's grown a wee thing prejudiced. Sae we'll say nae mair aboot _him_.

Then, there was Willie Cowper, the author o' the _Task_, _John Gilpin_, and mony other poems. If ye were to gie implicit credence to his English biographers, ye wad believe that he cam' o' an auld Sussex family. But Cowper himsel' aye insisted that he had come o' a Fife gentleman o' lang syne, that had been fain to flit southwards, having mair guid blude in his veins than siller in his purse belike, as has been the case wi' mony a guid fellow before noo. It's certain that the town o' Cupar, whilk may hae gi'en the family its name, is the head town o' that county to this day. There was ane Willie Cowper, Bishop o' Galloway in the time o' King Jamie--a real good exerceesed Christian, although a bishop--and the poet jaloosed that this worthy man had been ane o' his relations. I dinna pretend to ken how the matter really stood; but it doesna look very likely that Cowper could hae taken up the notion o' a Scotch ancestry, if there hadna been some tradition to that effeck. I'm particularly vext that our country was cheated out o' haeing Cowper for ane o' her sons, for I trow he was weel worthy o' that honor; and if Providence had willed that he should hae been born and brought up in Scotland, I haena the least doot that he wad hae been a minister, and ane too, that wad hae pleased the folk just extrornar.

There was a German philosopher in the last century, that made a great noise wi' a book of his that explored and explained a' the in-thoughts and out-thoughts o' the human mind. His name was Immanuel Kant; and the Kantian philosophy is weel kent as something originating wi' him. Weel, this Kant ought to hae been a Scotchman; or rather he _was_ a Scotchman; but only, owing to some grandfather or great-grandfather having come to live in Königsberg, in Prussia, ye'll no' hinder Immanuel frae being born there--whilk of coorse was a pity for a' parties except Prussia, that gets credit by the circumstance. The father of the philosopher was an honest saddler o' the name o' Cant, his ancestor having been ane o' the Cants o' Aberdeenshire, and maybe a relation of Andrew Cant, for onything I ken. It was the philosopher that changed the C for the K, to avoid the foreign look of the word, our letter C not belonging to the German alphabet. I'm rale sorry that Kant did not spring up in Scotland, where his metaphysical studies wad hae been on friendly grund. But I'm quite sure, an' he had visited Scotland and come to Aberdeenshire, he wad hae fund a guid number o' his relations, that wad hae been very glad to see him, and never thought the less o' him for being merely a philosopher.

Weel, we've got down a guid way noo, and the next man I find that ought by richts to hae been a Scotchman is that deil's bucky o' a poet, Lord Byron. I'm no' saying that Lord Byron was a'thegither a respectable character, ye see; but there can be nae manner o' doot that he wrote grand poetry, and got a great name by it. Noo, Lord Byron was born in London--I'm no' denyin' what Tammy Muir says on that score--but his mother was a Scotch leddy, and she and her husband settled in Scotland after their marriage, and of coorse their son wad hae been born there in due time, had it no' been that the husband's debts obliged them to gang, first to France and after that to London, where the leddy cam' to hae her down-lying, as has already been said. This, it plainly appears to me, was a great injustice to Scotland.

My greatest grudge o' a' is regarding that bright genius for historical composition, Thomas Babbington Macaulay, M.P. for Edinburgh. About the year 1790, the minister o' the parish o' Cardross in Dumbartonshire, was a Mr. M'Aulay, a north-country man, it's said, and a man o' uncommon abilities. It was in his parish that that other bright genius, Tobias Smollett, was born, and if a' bowls had rowed richt, sae should T. B. M. But it was otherwise ordeened. A son o' this minister, having become preceptor to a Mr. Barbinton, a young man o' fortune in England, it sae cam' aboot that this youth and his preceptor's sister, wha was an extrornan' bonny lass, drew up thegither, and were married. That led to ane o' the minister's sons going to England--namely, Mr. Zachary, the father o' oor member; and thus it was that we were cheated out o' the honor o' having T. B. as an out-and-out Scotsman, whilk it's no' natural to England to bring forth sic geniuses, weary fa' it, that I should say sae. I'm sure I wiss that the bonny lass had been far eneuch, afore she brought about this strange cantrip o' fortune, or that she had contented hersel' wi' an honest Greenock gentleman that wanted her, and wha, I've been tould, de'ed no' aboon three year syne.

Naebody that kens me will ever suppose that I'm vain either aboot mysel' or my country. I wot weel, when we consider what frail miserable creatures we are, we hae little need for being proud o' onything. Yet, somehow, I aye like to hear the name o' puir auld Scotland brought aboon board, so that it is na for things even-down disrespectable. Some years ago, we used to hear a great deal about a light-headed jillet they ca' Lola Montes, that had become quite an important political character at the coort o' the king o' Bavaria. Noo, although I believe it's a fact that Lola's father was a Scotch officer o' the army, I set nae store by her ava--I turn the back o' my hand on a' sic cutties as her. Only, it _is_ a fact that she comes o' huz--o' that there can be nae doot, be it creditable or no'.

Well, ye see, there's another distinguished leddy o' modern times, that's no' to be spoken o' in the same breath wi' that Lady Lighthead. This is the new Empress o' France. A fine-looking queen she is, I'm tauld. Weel, it's quite positive aboot her that her mother was a Kirkpatrick, come of the house o' Closeburn, in the same county that Ben Jonson's father cam' frae. The Kirkpatricks have had land in Dumfriesshire since the days o' Bruce, whose friend ane o' them was, at the time when he killed Red Cummin; but Closeburn has long passed away frae them, and now belangs to Mr. Baird, the great iron master o' the west o' Scotland. Howsomever, the folks thereaboots hae a queer story aboot a servant-lass that was in the house in the days o' the empress' great-grandfather like. She married a man o' the name o' Paterson and gaed to America, and her son came to be a great merchant, and his daughter became Prince Jerome Bonaparte's wife; and sae it happens that a lady come frae the parlor o' Closeburn sits on the throne o' France, while a prince come frae the kitchen o' the same place is its heir presumptive! I'm no' sure that the hale o' this story is quite the thing; but I tell it as it was tauld to me.

I'm no' ane that tak's up my head muckle wi' public singers, playgoers, composers o' music, and folk o' that kind; but yet we a' ken that some o' them atteen to a great deal o' distinction, and are muckle ta'en out by the nobility and gentry. Weel, I'm tauld (for I ken naething about him mysel') that there was ane Donizetti, a great composer o' operas, no' very lang syne. Now, Donizetti, as we've been tauld i' _the public papers_, was the son o' a Scotchman. His father was a Highlandman, called Donald Izett, wha left his native Perthshire as a soldier--maist likely the Duke o' Atholl pressed him into the service as ane o' his volunteers--and Donald having quitted the army somewhere abroad, set up in business wi' Don Izett over his door, whilk the senseless folk thereabouts soon transformed into Donizetti, and thus it came about that his son, wha turned out a braw musician, bore this name frae first to last, and dootless left it to his posterity. I ken weel that Izett is a Perthshire name, and there was ane o' the clan some years sin' in business in the North Brig o' Edinburgh, and a rale guid honest man he was, I can tell ye, and a very sensible man, too. Ye'll see his head-stane ony day i' the Grayfriars. And this is guid evidence to me that Donizetti was, properly speaking, a Scotchman. It's a sair pity for himsel' that he wasna born, as he should hae been, on the braes o' Atholl, for then he wad nae doot hae learned the richt music, that is played there sae finely on the fiddle--namely, reels and strath-speys; and I dinna ken but, wi' proper instruction, he might hae rivalled Neil Gow himsel'.

Ye've a' heard o' Jenny Lind, the Swedish nightingale, as the fulishly ca' her, as if there ever were ony nightingales in Sweden. She's a vera fine creature, this Jenny Lind, no greedy o' siller, as sae mony are, but aye willing to exerceese her gift for the guid o' the sick and the puir. She's, in fack, just sick a young woman as we micht expeck Scotland to produce, if it ever produced public singers. Weel, Jenny, I'm tauld, is another of the great band o' distinguished persons that ought to hae been born in Scotland, for it's said her greatgrandfather (I'm no' preceese as to the generation) was a Scotchman that gaed lang syne to spouse his fortune abroad, and chanced to settle in Sweden, where he had sons and daughters born to him. There's a gey wheen Linds about Mid-Calder, honest farmer-folk, to this day; sae I'm thinkin' there's no' muckle room for doot as to the fack.

Noo, having shewn sic a lang list o' mischances as to the nativity o' Scotch folk o' eminence, I think ye'll alloo that we puir bodies in the north hae some occasion for complaint. As we are a' in Providence's hand, we canna, of coorse, prevent some o' our best countrymen frae coming into the world in wrang places--sic as Sir Isaac Newton in Lincolnshire, whilk I think an uncommon pity; but what's to hinder sic persons frae being reputed and held as Scotchmen notwithstanding? I'm sure I ken o' nae objection, except it may be that our friends i' the south, feeling what a sma' proportion o' Great Britons are Englishmen, may entertain some jealousy on the subjeck. If that be the case, the sooner that the Association for Redress o' Scottish Grievances takes up the question the better. [21]

=A Leader's Description of His Followers=

Old John Cameron was leader of a small quadrille band in Edinburgh, the performances of which were certainly not the very finest.

Being disappointed on one occasion of an engagement at a particular ball, he described his more fortunate but equally able brethren in the following terms: "There's a Geordie Menstrie, he plays rough, like a man sharpening knives wi' yellow sand. Then there's Jamie Corri, his playin's like the chappin' o' mince-collops--sic short bows he tak's. And then there's Donald Munro, his bass is like wind i' the lum, or a toom cart gaun down Blackfriars' Wynd!"

=It Takes Two To Fight=

A physician at Queensferry was once threatened with a challenge. His method of receiving it was at once cool and incontrovertible.

"Ye may challenge me if ye like," said he; "but whether or no, there'll be nae fecht, _unless I gang out_."

="What's the Lawin', Lass?"=

The following dialogue occurred in a little country inn, not so long ago as the internal evidence might lead one to suppose. The interlocutors are an English tourist and a smart young woman, who acted as waitress, chambermaid, boots, and everybody else, being the man and the maid of the inn at the same time:

_Tourist_: Come here, if you please.

_Jenny_: I was just coming ben to you, sir.

_Tourist_: Well, now, mistress.

_Jenny_: I'm no' the mistress; I'm only the lass, an' I'm no' married.

_Tourist_: Very well, then, miss.

_Jenny_: I'm no' a miss; I'm only a man's dochter.

_Tourist_: A man's daughter?

_Jenny_: Hoot, ay, sir; didna ye see a farm as ye came up yestreen, just three parks aff?

_Tourist_: It is very possible; I do not remember.

_Jenny_: Weel, onyway, it's my faither's.

_Tourist_: Indeed!

_Jenny_: Ay, it's a fact.

_Tourist_: Well, that fact being settled, let us proceed to business. Will you let me see your bill?

_Jenny_: Our Bill. Ou, ay, Wully we ca' him, but I ken wha you mean--he's no in e'en now.

_Tourist_: Wully! what I want is my account--a paper stating what I have had, and how much I have to pay.

_Jenny_: Did ony woman ever hear the like o' that--ye mean the lawin', man! But we keep nae accounts here; na, na, we hae ower muckle to dae.

_Tourist_: And how do you know what to charge?

_Jenny_: On, we just put the things down on the sclate, and tell the customers the tottle by word o' mouth.

_Tourist_: Just so. Well, will you give me the lawin', as I am going?

_Jenny_: Oh, sir, ye're jokin' noo! It's you maun gie me the lawin'--the lawin's the siller.

_Tourist_: Oh, indeed, I beg your pardon; how much is it?

_Jenny_: That's just what I was coming ben to tell you, sir. If ye had ask'd me first, or waited till I tell't ye, I wadna hae keepit ye a minute. We're no blate at askin' the lawin', although some folk are unco' slow at payin' o't. It's just four-and-six.

_Tourist_: That is very moderate; there is five shillings.

_Jenny_: Thank you, sir; I hope we hae a sixpence in the house, for I wadna' like to gie bawbees to a gentleman.

_Tourist_: No, no; the sixpence is for yourself.

_Jenny_: Oh, sir, it's ower muckle.

_Tourist_: What, do you object to take it?

_Jenny_: Na, na, sir; I wouldna' put that affront upon ye. But I'll gie ye a bit o' advice for't. When ye're gaun awa' frae an inn in a hurry, dinna be fashin' yersel' wi' mistresses, and misses, and bills; but just say, "What's the lawin', lass?"

=Meanness versus Crustiness=

A rather mean and parsimonious old lady called one day upon David Dreghorn, a well-known Glasgow fishmonger, saying, "Weel, Maister Dreghorn, how are ye selling your half salmon the noo?"

David being in a rather cross humor, replied, "When we catch ony half salmon, mem, we'll let ye ken!"

=Speeding the Parting Guest=

It is related of a noble Scottish lady of the olden time, who lived in a remote part of the Highlands, and was noted for her profuse liberality, that she was some times overburdened with habitual "sorners." When any one of them outstayed his welcome, she would take occasion to say to him at the morning meal, with an arch look at the rest of the company, "Mak' a guid breakfast, Mr. ----, while ye're about it; ye dinna ken whaur ye'll get your dinner." The hint was usually taken, and the "sorner" departed.

="Things Which Accompany Salvation"=

"What d'ye think o' this great revival that's gaun on the noo, Jamie?" asked a grocer of a brother tradesman.

"Weel," answered Jamie, "I canna say muckle about it, but I ken this--I hae gotten in a gude wheen bawbees that I had given up lang syne as bad debts."

=Lights and Livers=

Lord Cockburn, when at the bar, was pleading in a steamboat collision case. The case turned on the fact of one of the steamers carrying no lights, which was the cause of the accident. Cockburn insisting on this, wound up his eloquent argument with this remark: "In fact, gentlemen, had there been more _lights_, there would have been more _livers_."

=Both Short=

"Ye're unco' short the day, Saunders, surely," said an undersized student to a Glasgow bookseller, one morning, when the latter was in an irritable mood.

"Od, man," was the retort, "ye may haud your tongue; ye're no' sae lang yersel'."

=His Own, With "Interest"=

"Coming from h--l, Lauchlan?" quoth a shepherd, proceeding on Sacrament Sunday to the Free Church, and meeting a friend coming from the Church of the Establishment.

"Better nor going to it, Rory," retorted Lauchlan, as he passed on.

="The Spigot's Oot"=

Lord Airlie remarked to one of his tenants that it was a very wet season.

"Indeed, my lord," replied the man, "I think the spigot's oot a'thegither."

=Looking After Himself=

A canny man, who had accepted the office of elder because some wag had made him believe that the remuneration was a sixpence each Sunday and a boll of meal on New Year's Day, officially carried round the ladle each Sunday after service. When the year expired he claimed the meal, but was told that he had been hoaxed.

"It may be sae wi' the meal," he replied, coolly, "but I took care o' the saxpence mysel'."

=An Epitaph to Order=

The Rev. Dr. M'Culloch, minister of Bothwell at the end of last century, was a man of sterling independence and great self-decision. To a friend--Rev. Mr. Brisbane--he one day said, "You must write my epitaph if you survive me."

"I will do that," said Mr. Brisbane; "and you shall have it at once, doctor."

Next morning he received the following:

"Here lies, interred beneath this sod,
That sycophantish man of God,
Who taught an easy way to heaven,
Which to the rich was always given;
If he get in, he'll look and stare
To find some out that he put there."

=A Variety Entertainment=

There used to be a waggish ostler at one of the chief inns at Hertford, who delighted to make merry at the expense of any guests who gave themselves airs. The manner of the ostler was extremely deferential, and only those who knew him well were aware of the humor which almost always lurked beneath his civil replies to the questions put to him. One day a commercial traveler, a complete prig, who wanted to play the fine gentleman, entered the inn, and having despatched his dinner, rang the bell of the commercial room for "boots," who presently made his appearance, when the following colloquy took place:

_Commercial_: "Dull town, this. Any amusements, Boots?"

_Boots_: "Yes, sir, please, sir; Musical Conversazione over the way at the Shire Hall, sir. Half-a-crown admission, sir. Very nice, sir."

_Commercial_: "Ah, nice music, I dare say; I don't care for such things. Is there nothing else, Boots?"

_Boots_: "Yes, sir, please, sir; Popular Entertainment at Corn Exchange, admission one penny; gentlemen pay sixpence to front seats, sir, if they please, sir."

_Commercial_: "Intensely vulgar! Are there no other amusements in this confoundedly dull town?"

_Boots_: "Yes, sir, please sir; railway station at each end of the town--walk down and see the trains come in."

=A Descriptive Hymn=

A minister in Orkney having been asked by the Rev. Mr. Spark, minister of St. Magnus, to conduct service in his church, and also to baptize his infant daughter, gave out for singing, before the baptismal service, a portion of the fifth paraphrase, beginning:

"As _sparks_ in quick succession rise."

As Mr. Spark's help-mate was a fruitful vine, and presented him with a pledge of her affection every year, the titter among the congregation was unmistakable and irresistible.

=A Vigorous Translation=

"What is the meaning of _ex nihilo nihil fit_?" asked a Highlander of a village schoolmaster.

"Weel, Donald," answered the dominie, "I dinna mind the literal translation; but it just means that ye canna tak' the breeks aff a Highland-man."

="Before the Provost!"=

The magistrates of the Scottish burghs, though respectable men, are generally not the wealthiest in their respective communities. And it sometimes happens, in the case of very poor and remote burghs, that persons of a very inferior station alone can be induced to accept the uneasy dignity of the municipal chair.

An amusing story is told regarding the town of L----, in B----shire, which is generally considered as a peculiarly miserable specimen of these privileged townships. An English gentleman approaching L---- one day in a gig, his horse started at a heap of dry wood and decayed branches of trees, which a very poor-looking old man was accumulating upon the road, apparently with the intention of conveying them to town for sale as firewood. The stranger immediately cried to the old man, desiring him in no very civil terms, to clear the road that his horse might pass. The old man, offended at the disrespectful language of the complainant, took no notice of him, but continued to hew away at the trees.

"You old dog," the gentleman then exclaimed, "I'll have you brought before the provost, and put into prison for your disregard of the laws of the road."

"Gang to the de'il, man, wi' your provost!" the woodcutter contemptuously replied; "I'm provost mysel'."

=Denominational Graves=

For a short time after the disruption, an unkindly feeling existed between the ministers of the Established Church and their protesting brethren. Several "free" parishioners of Blackford, Perthshire, waited on Mr. Clark, the established minister, and requested that they might have the services of a non-Erastian sexton.

"Will you allow us, sir," said one of the deputation, "to dig our own graves?"

"Certainly, gentlemen," said Mr. Clark, "you are most welcome; and the sooner the better!"

=Escaping Punishment=

An active-looking boy, aged about twelve years, was brought up before Provost Baker, at the Rutherglen Burgh Court, charged with breaking into gardens and stealing fruit therefrom. The charge having been substantiated, the magistrate, addressing the juvenile offender, said in his gravest manner: "If you had a garden, and pilfering boys were to break into and steal your property, in what way would you like to have them punished?"

"Aweel, sir," replied the prisoner, "I think I would let them awa' for first time."

It is needless to add that the worthy provost was mollified, and that the little fellow was dismissed with an admonition.

=Passing Remarks=

"There she goes," sneered an Englishman, as a Highlander marched past in his tartans at a fair.

"There she lies," retorted Duncan, as he knocked the scorner down at a blow.

=Scottish Vision and Cockney Chaff=

Two sharp youths from London, while enjoying themselves among the heather in Argylshire, met with a decent-looking shepherd upon the top of a hill. They accosted him by remarking: "You have a fine view here, friend; you will be able to see a great way."

"Ou, ay, ou, ay, a ferry great way."

"Ah! you will see America from here?"

"Farther than that," said Donald.

"Ah! how's that?"

"Ou, juist wait till the mists gang awa', an' you'll see the mune!"

="The," and "The Other"=

When the chief of the Scottish clan, Macnab, emigrated to Canada with a hundred clansmen, he, on arriving at Toronto, called on his namesake, the late Sir Allen, and left his card as "_The_ Macnab." Sir Allen returned his visit, leaving as his card, "The _other_ Macnab."

="Old Clo'"=

Christopher North had a great hatred of the "old clo'" men who infest the streets. Coming from his class one day, a shabby Irishman asked him in the usual confidential manner, "Any old clo', sir?"

"No;" replied the professor, imitating the whisper; "no, my dear fellow,--have you?"

=Church Popularity=

"How is it, John," said a minister to his man, "that you never go a message for me anywhere in the parish but you contrive to take too much spirits? People don't offer _me_ spirits when I'm making visits in the parish."

"Weel, sir," said John, "I canna precisely explain it, unless on the supposition that I'm a wee bit mair popular wi' some o' the folks maybe than you are."

=Wersh Parritch and Wersh Kisses=

Kirsty and Jenny, two country lassies, were supping their "parritch" from the same bicker in the harvest-field one morning.

"Hech," said Kirsty to her neighbor, "Jenny, but thae's awfu' wersh parritch!"

"'Deed are they," said Jenny, "they are that. D'ye ken what they put me in mind o'? Just o' a kiss frae a body that ye dinna like."

=A Stranger in the Court of Session=

The "Daft Highland Laird," a noted character in Edinburgh at the latter end of last century, one day accosted the Hon. Henry Erskine, as he was entering the Parliament House. Erskine inquired of the "laird" how he did.

"Oh, very well!" answered the laird; "but I'll tell ye what, Harry, tak' in _Justice_ wi' ye," pointing to one of the statues over the old porch of the House; "for she has stood lang i' the outside, and it would be a treat to see her inside, like other strangers!"

=Wit and Humor Under Difficulties=

Sandy Gordon, the town-crier of Maybole, was a character in his way. At one period of his life he had been an auctioneer and appraiser, although his "louring drouth" interfered sadly with the business, but neither poverty nor misfortune could blunt Sandy's relish for a joke. One day, going down the street he encountered his son riding on an ass.

"Weel, Jock," quoth he, "you're a riding on your brither."

"Ay, father," rejoined the son, "I didna ken this was ane o' yours tae."

At a neighboring village he had one day sold his shoes to slake his thirst. After the transaction he was discovered seated on the roadside, gazing on his bare feet, and soliloquizing in this strain--"Step forrit, barefit Gordon, if it's no' _on_ you, it's _in_ you."

He was once taking a walk into the country, when he met Sir David Hunter Blair.

"Where are you for to-day, Gordon?" asked the baronet.

"Sir David," rejoined the crier, with some dignity, "if I was to ask that of you, you would say I was ill-bred."

He had the misfortune once to break his leg in a drunken brawl, and a hastily constructed litter was improvised to carry him home. Still his characteristic humor did not leave him. "Canny boys," he would cry to those carrying him, "keep the funeral step; tak' care o' my pipe; let oor Jock tae the head, he's the chief mourner."

=An Affectionate Aunt=

A plain-spoken old Scottish lady, Mrs. Wanchope, of Nibbey, being very ill, sent for Aunt Soph and said to her: "Soph, I believe I am dying; will you be always kind to my children when I am gone?"

"Na, na; tak' yer spoilt deevils wi' ye," was the reply, "for I'll hae naething ado wi' them!"

=A Discerning Fool=

"Jock, how auld will ye be?" said a sage wife to daft Jock Amos one day, when talking of their ages.

"O, I dinna ken," said Jock; "it would tak' a wiser head than mine to tell you that."

"It's an unco' queer thing you dinna ken hoo auld you are," returned the woman.

"I ken weel eneuch how auld I _am_," answered Jock; "but I dinna ken how auld _I'll be_." [24]

=A Law of Nature=

Principal Hill once encountered a fierce onslaught from the Rev. James Burn in the General Assembly. When Mr. Burn had concluded his attack, the professor rose, and said with a smile: "Moderator, we all know that it is most natural that _Burns_ should _run down Hills_."

The laugh was effectually raised against his opponent, whose arguments and assertions he then proceeded to demolish at his leisure.

=Ingenious Remedy for Ignorance=

When a former Prince of Wales was married, a Highland minister at Greenock was praying for the happiness and welfare of the royal couple. He was somewhat embarrassed as to how he should join the two names, but at length he got over it thus:

"Lord bless _her_ royal highness the Prince of Wales, and _his_ royal highness the _she_ prince!"

=Highland "Warldliness"=

At a breakfast there was abundance of Highland cheer, towering dishes of scones, oatcakes, an enormous cheese, fish eggs and a monstrous grey-beard of whiskey ready, if required; fumes of tobacco were floating in the air, and the whole seemed an embodiment of the Highlander's grace, "Oh, gie us rivers of whiskey, chau'ders o' snuff, and tons o' tobacco, pread an' a cheese as pig as the great hill of Ben Nevis, and may our childer's childer be lords and lairds to the latest sheneration." On repeating this grace to an old hillsman of eighty, leaning on his stick, he thoughtfully answered: "Weel, it's a goot grace--a very goot grace--but it's a warldly thing!"

=A Paradox=

On Henry Erskine being told that Knox, who had long derived his livelihood by keeping the door of the Parliament House, had been killed by a shot from a small cannon on the king's birthday, he observed that "it was remarkable that a man should live by the civil and die by the can(_n_)on law."

=A Sensible Lass=

A Scottish gentleman, while walking in a meadow with some ladies, had the impudence to snatch a kiss from one, unperceived by the rest. She said indignantly, "Sir, I am not accustomed to such freedom."

"It will be the greater rarity, then, madam."

She flew from him, and ran towards her mother, who, alarmed at her seeming terror, inquired what was the cause.

"She has taken fright at a rash buss," said the gentleman.

"O, ye idiot," said the mother, "go back this instant."

She returned, smiling, and said, "Do't again, it's no' forbidden."

=A Sad Loss=

An old lady was telling her grandchildren about some trouble in Scotland, in the course of which the chief of her clan was beheaded.

"It was nae great thing of a head, bairns, to be sure," said the good lady, "but it was a sad loss to him."

=Catechising=

The minister called in upon the gudewife at Corset Hill one night, for the purpose of catechising her.

"What is the Lord's Supper, Peggy?" he inquired.

"'Deed, sir," said the hostel wife, more intent on matters temporal than on things spiritual, "there's nae lords come this way; but I'se tell ye what a cadger's supper is--it's just a groat; and what they leave at night they tak' awa' wi' them in their pouch in the morning."

=Lord Cockburn Confounded=

One day Lord Cockburn went into the Second Division of the Court of Session, but came out again very hurriedly, meeting Lord Jeffrey at the door.

"Do you see any paleness about my face, Jeffrey?" asked Cockburn.

"No," replied Jeffrey; "I hope you're well enough."

"I don't know," said the other; "but I have just heard Bolus (Lord Justice-Clerk Boyle) say: 'I _for one_ am of opinion that this case is founded on the fundamental basis of a quadrilateral contract, the four sides of which are agglutinated by adhesion!'"

"I think, Cockburn," said Jeffrey "that you had better go home."

="No Compliments"=

An aged divine had occasionally to avail himself of the assistance of probationers. One day, a young man, very vain of his accomplishments as a preacher, officiated, and, on descending from the pulpit, was met by the old gentleman with extended hands. Expecting high praise, he said, "No compliments, I pray."

"Na, na, na, my young friend," said the minister, "nowadays I'm glad o' onybody!"

=A Sensible Servant=

A very old domestic servant of the familiar Scottish character common long ago, having offended his master extremely, was commanded to leave his service instantly.

"In troth, and that will I not," answered the domestic; "if your honor disna ken when ye hae a gude servant, I ken when I hae a gude master, and go away I will not."