I quite understand the feeling of the Scotch aristocracy,

but I should have thought Lothian would be apart from, as

well as above it.

But the number of subscriptions is the main thing, and very

many they ought to be if Scotland is Scotland still. He was

one of Nature's nobles. It is impossible even to dream that a

base or unworthy thought ever found harbour for a moment

in his mind.

Is it not extraordinary to see this rain of Bishoprics upon

_my_ head? Nor (I think) is it over; the next twelvemonth

(wherever I may be at the end of it) will, I think, probably

produce three more.

Bishop Temple is a fine fellow, and I hope all will now go

well. For Manchester (this is secret) I hope to have Mr.

Fraser of Clifton--a very notable man, in the first rank of

knowledge and experience on the question of education. Many

pressed him for Salisbury.

I can truly say that every Bishop who has been appointed has

been chosen simply as the best man to be had.

Ah! when will you spend that month here, which I shall never

cease to long for?--Ever affectionately yours,

W.E. GLADSTONE.

Rev. Dr. CANDLISH to DEAN RAMSAY.

52 Melville Street, 7th Dec. 1870.

Dear Dean Ramsay--I should have acknowledged yours of the 1st

sooner. I cannot say that I regret the conclusion to which

you have come, though. I would have done my best to help on

the larger movement.... I very willingly acquiesce in the

wisdom of your resolution to accept the position, for it is

one which you may well accept with satisfaction and

thankfulness. You have accomplished what I doubt if any other

man could have even ventured to propose, at so late a period

after Dr. Chalmers' death. It will be a historical fact, made

palpable to succeeding ages, that you have wiped off a

discredit from Scotland's church and nation, by securing a

suitable memorial of one of her most distinguished sons, in

the most conspicuous position the Metropolis could assign to

it. It will be for us of the Free Church to recognise in our

archives the high compliment paid to our illustrious leader

and chief in the great movement of the Disruption by one of

other ecclesiastical convictions and leanings. But we must

always do that under the feeling that it is not in that

character that you know Chalmers; but in the far broader

aspect in which you have so happily celebrated him as a

Christian philanthropist, a patriot, and a divine.

I conclude with earnest congratulations on the complete

success, as I regard it, of your generous proposal; and I am

yours very truly,

ROB. S. CANDLISH.

Rev. Dr. DUFF to DEAN RAMSAY.

The Grange, 29th June.

Very Rev. and dear Sir--Many thanks for your kind note with

its enclosures.

From my sad experience in such matters, I am not at all

surprised at the meagre number of replies to your

printed circular.

When I first learnt from the newspaper of the meeting held in

your house, and of Dr. Guthrie's proposal, I had a strong

impression that the latter was on far too extensive a

scale--but remained silent, being only anxious, in a quiet

way, to do what I could in promoting the general design.

Having had much to do during the last forty years with the

raising of funds for all manner of objects, in different

lands, I have come to know something of men's tempers and

dispositions in such cases, and under peculiar circumstances

and conditions. I therefore never expected the £20,000 scheme

to succeed; unless, indeed, it were headed by a dozen or so

at £1000, or at least £500 each--a liberality not to be

expected for such an object at this time of day.

Your present plan, therefore, I think a wise one--viz., to

constitute yourselves into "a statue committee," for the

successful carrying out of your own original and very

practicable design,--handing over any surplus funds which may

remain to any other committee or body willing to prosecute

the larger professorship or lectureship scheme.--I remain,

very Rev. and dear Sir, yours very sincerely,

ALEXANDER DUFF.

I am indebted for the following letters to the Rev. Dr. Lindsay

Alexander. If I wrote only for Scotsmen, it would be unnecessary to

speak of Dr. Alexander as holding a place which he seems to me, ignorant

as I am of Church disputes, to owe to his own high personal merit, and

the independence which makes him free to think and to write as scarcely

any clergyman fettered with the supposed claims of sect or denomination

feels himself at liberty to do. As our Dean got older we find him

drawing more kindly to those whose Christianity was shown in other guise

than in sectarian precision with some spice of persecution.

23 Ainslie Place, Feb. 28, 1866.

I have found, as others have, the "Biblical Commentary" a

very useful companion in sermon-writing. It gives you the

Scripture parallel passages bodily, and saves the trouble of

turning backwards and forwards to find the marginal

references and to examine their relevancy. The work is

published by Bagster, and he generally, I believe, gets his

work pretty well done, and, so far as I can judge, it is

judiciously selected, generally at least.

Now, dear Dr. Alexander, if you would accept of the copy of

this work which I have sent, and accept it from me, and if it

should prove a useful companion in your homiletical labours,

I should feel much gratified. Perhaps it may be a remembrance

amongst your books, when years have passed away, of one in

his grave who had a sincere regard for you, and who now signs

himself, yours very faithfully,

E.B. RAMSAY.

23 Ainslie Place, Jan. 11, 1866.

My dear Dr. Alexander--You will not suppose me to be an

advocate for the donkeyism of vestment ritual. But I wish you

not to have unfavourable impressions as regard _our_ concern

with such matters. We have a canon declaratory on vestments,

asserting the ordinary surplice, gown, hood, and stole. It is

stupidly worded, but the meaning is obvious. I was vexed from

your experience to hear of such foolish proceedings at Bridge

of Allan, contrary to canon and to common sense.... The

_green_ part of the dress which caused your wonder, naturally

enough, is not a freak of new vestments, but is a foolish way

which the Glenalmond students have adopted of wearing the

_hood_, which our Bishops (not without diversity of opinion)

had granted for those who had been educated at our College.

It is a hood lined with _green_ (Scottish thistle colour),

and they have a way of wearing it in a manner which brings

the coloured part in front. Pray, pray, don't think of

answering this; it is merely to correct an unfavourable

impression in one whose favourable opinion I much desiderate.

I cannot tell you the pleasure I had in your visit on

Tuesday.--With sincere regard, yours always, E.B. RAMSAY.

23 Ainslie Place, June 8, 1866.

Dear Dr. Alexander--I forgot to mention a circumstance

connected with my story of to-day. I have had a communicant

thereanent with Dr. Robert Lee. The good Dr., although fond

of introducing Episcopalian practices, which cause great

indignation amongst some of his brethren, does not wish it to

be understood that he has the least tendency to become an

Episcopalian himself. In short, he hinted to me himself that

were such an idea to become prevalent it would materially

weaken his influence with many followers. "It is to improve

my own church, not to join yours," were his words, or to that

effect. In carrying out this idea he has a hit in his

"Reformation of the Church of Scotland" against

Episcopalians, and in the first edition he brings up Dean

Ramsay and the unfortunate statement he had made, as a

melancholy proof how hopeless were even the most specious of

the Scottish Episcopal Church on the subject of toleration. I

told him that so far as that statement went it proved

nothing, that it had been wrung from me in an unguarded

moment, and that I had for fourteen years borne unequivocal

testimony to views which were opposite to that statement. He

received the explanation most kindly, and offered to do

anything I wished, but we both at length agreed that the best

plan would be simply to omit it in the second edition, which

was preparing and has since come out. It was omitted.

I am, dear Dr. Alexander, with true regard, ever yours most

sincerely, E.B. RAMSAY.

23 Ainslie Place, August 26, 1867.

Dear Dr. Alexander--I have lately returned to Edinburgh,

having paid a visit to my own country on Deeside. On Saturday

I drove down to Musselburgh, and had an express object in

calling upon you to ask how you were. But I found I had been

wrong directed to Pinkie Burn, and that to accomplish my

visit, I must have made a _détour_ which would have detained

me too long. I had an engagement waiting me, and I found my

strength pretty well exhausted. I wish, however, to notify my

_intention_ of a visit. I have had a very severe illness

since we met, and have not regained my former position, and

do not think I ever shall. I was very, very close upon the

gate we must all pass, and I believe a few hours longer of

the fever's continuance would have closed the scene. I don't

think I dread to meet death. I have so largely experienced

the goodness of God through (now) a long life, and I feel so

deeply, and I trust so humbly, the power of his grace and

mercy in Christ, that, I can calmly contemplate the approach

of the last hour. But I confess I do shrink from encountering

an undefined period of bodily and mental imbecility; of being

helpless, useless, a burden. I have been so distressed to see

all this come upon our bishop, Dr. Terrot; the once clear,

acute, _sharp_, and ready man. Oh, it is to my mind the most

terrible affliction of our poor nature. I have known lately

an unusual number of such cases before me, and I hope I am

not unreasonably apprehensive as to what may come. I hope

your family all are well, and that you are fully up to your

work in all its forms.--I am, believe me, with much regard,

very sincerely yours, E.B. RAMSAY.

Without date.

My dear Dr. Alexander--I feel deeply obliged by your kind

gift to Bishop Whipple. His simple heart will be gratified

much. I am so vexed at having mislaid two letters from him. I

should have liked you to see and to know the bishop by seeing

and reading them. They are _models_ of simple, loving,

Christian feeling. He went to Minnesota as to a new rough

state just added to the United States. He took five

clergymen. He has now above thirty and a college (for which

he asked the books). He is beloved by all, and loves all. The

Red Indians worship him. He is so considerate of them. They

suffer from bad teeth, and on some occasions he has drawn 150

teeth before a prayer-meeting in the woods, from Indians who

were suffering pain....

I will take care Bishop Whipple shall know of your goodness.

I am so vexed I can't find his letters.

23 Ainslie Place, Edinburgh,

November 26, 1871.

Dear Dr. Alexander--You will be sorry to hear that my

brother, Sir William, is _very_ ill. This morning we had

given up all idea of his rallying, but since that he has

shown symptoms of a more favourable character. His state is

still a very precarious one, and I fear much we must make up

our minds to lose him. God's will be done! We are sure he is

prepared for his change. He has long been a sincere believer

in the great work and offices of the Lord Jesus, and he has

followed up his profession of belief by liberal and judicious

expenditure on benevolent objects.

I have heard of your being in London at the Revision, and you

may probably be there now. But when you return to Edinburgh,

the Admiral would be most glad to see you when able to call

in Ainslie Place. Sir William is three years younger than I,

but he has had a more trying life. His death (should such be

God's will) must be a great blank for me. But for me it

cannot be a long one.--Hoping you are well, I am, with much

regard, most sincerely yours, E.B. RAMSAY.

Very soon after the date of this letter Admiral William Ramsay died, who

had lived with his brother the Dean in the most affectionate friendship

for many years. Their duties and interests were identical. William

Ramsay was known as the promoter of every scheme of benevolence in

Edinburgh.

Right Hon. W.E. GLADSTONE to DEAN RAMSAY.

Hawarden, December 7, 1871.

My dear Dean Ramsay--It is with much grief that we have seen

the announcement of the heavy loss you have sustained in the

death of your brother. It was a beautiful union, which is now

for the time dissolved. One has been taken, and the other

left. The stronger frame has been broken, the weaker one

still abides the buffetings of the sea of life. And I feel a

very strong conviction, even at this sad moment, and with

your advancing age, that the balance of your mind and

character will remain unshaken through your habitual and

entire acceptance of the will of God. I write then only to

express my sincere regard for the dead, strong sympathy with

the living. Such as it is, and knowing it to be pure, I offer

it; would it were more worthy, and would that I, let me

rather say--for my wife enters into all these feelings--that

we were able in any way at this especial time to minister to

your comfort.

I fear the stroke must have come rather suddenly, but no

dispensation could, I think, in the sense really dangerous,

be sudden to you.

Accept, my dear Dean, our affectionate wishes, and be assured

we enter into the many prayers which will ascend on your

behalf. Your devoted niece will sorely feel this, but it will

be to her a new incentive in the performance of those loving

duties to which she has so willingly devoted her heart and

mind.--Believe me always your affectionate friend, W.E.

GLADSTONE.

Rev. D.T.K. DRUMMOND to DEAN RAMSAY.

Montpelier, Thursday.

My dear Friend--I did not like to intrude on you in the very

freshness of your home sorrow. But you know how much I loved

and respected your brother, and how truly and heartily I

sympathise with you. There were few in Edinburgh so much

beloved as Sir William, and it will be long indeed ere the

memory of his goodness shall pass away. Such men in the

quiet, private, and unassuming walk, are often much more

missed and more extensively lamented than men who have been

more in the eye of the public, and during their life have had

much of public observation and favour. It is trying for us

who are far on in the pilgrimage to see one and another of

our brothers and sisters pass away before us. I have seen

_ten_ go before me, and am the only one left; and yet it

seems as if the old feeling of their leaving us is being

exchanged for the brighter and happier consciousness that

they are coming to meet us, or at least that the gathering

band are BEFORE us, and looking our way, expecting the time

when we too shall pass through the veil, leaning on the arm

of the Beloved. I earnestly pray, my dear friend, for the

Master's loving help and comfort to you from henceforth

even for ever.

I cannot close this without, in a sentence, expressing my

very great delight in reading your words regarding brotherly

intercommunion among members of Churches who hold the same

Truth, love the same Lord, and are bound to the same "better

land." I do rejoice with all my heart that you have given

utterance to the sentiments so carefully and admirably

expressed by you. I go heart and soul with you in the large

and liberal and Christ-like spirit of the views you propound;

and feel with you that all such brotherly esteem and hearty

and candid co-operation only makes me love my own church

better, because such love is unmixed with the exclusiveness

which sees nothing good save in the Communion to which we

ourselves belong.

Thank you most heartily for what you have written.--Ever very

affectionately yours, D.T.K. DRUMMOND.

When the Ramsays were under the necessity of selling most of their

property in the Mearns, the purchaser of Fasque was Mr. Gladstone, not

yet a baronet; and, what does not always happen, the families of the

buyer and the seller continued good friends, and Sir John, the great

merchant, by his advice and perhaps other help, assisted some of the

young Ramsays, who had still to push their way to fortune. I believe

William, afterwards Admiral, was guided by him in the investment and

management of a little money, which prospered, notwithstanding his

innumerable bounties to the poor. The Dean also was obliged to Sir John

Gladstone, but only for kindness and hospitalities.

On the Ramsays going to London in the summer of 1845, the journal

records what nice rooms they had, and how happy they were at Mr.

Gladstone's, where they saw a good deal of their host--"a man who at

eighty-one possesses the bodily and mental vigour of the prime of life."

The Dean was struck with the old man's abilities. "Mr. Gladstone would

have been successful in any undertaking or any pursuits--a man fitted to

grapple with the highest subjects."

From that period much intercourse took place between the Premier and our

Dean. There are mutual visits between Hawarden and Edinburgh, and I find

a good deal of correspondence between them; at least I find the letters

on one side. The Dean preserved Mr. Gladstone's letters, but the

counterparts are probably not preserved. One-sided as they are, the

little packet in my hand, of letters from the great Statesman to the

rural clergyman is not without interest. The correspondence has been

friendly, frank and confidential, the writers often differing in

immaterial things, but showing the same liberality in "Church and

State;" so that we are not surprised to find, when the time came, that

of the friends, the churchman approved of Irish disestablishment as

heartily as the layman who was its author.

Right Hon. W.E. GLADSTONE to DEAN RAMSAY.

10 Downing Street, Whitehall, Jan. 20, 1869.

My dear Dean Ramsay--I need not tell you I am no fit judge of

your brother's claims, but I shall send your letter

privately to the First Lord, who, I am sure, will give it an

impartial and friendly consideration.

Pray remember me to the Admiral, and be assured it will give

me sincere pleasure if your wish on his behalf can be

gratified.

I write from Hawarden, but almost _en route_ for London, and

the arduous work before us.

My mind is cheerful, and even sanguine about it.

I wish I had some chance or hope of seeing you, and I remain

affectionately yours, W.E. GLADSTONE.

The Bishop of Salisbury has been for days at the point of death. He is

decidedly better, but cannot recover. Let him have a place in

your prayers.

Windsor Castle, June 24, 1871.

My dear Dean Ramsay--The attraction of the Scott Centenary to

Edinburgh is strong, and your affectionate invitation makes

it stronger still. I do not despair of being free, and if

free, I mean to use my freedom, so as to profit by both. At

the same time the delays and obstructions to business have

been so formidable that I must not as yet presume to forecast

the time when I may be able to escape from London, and

therefore I fear I must draw upon your indulgence to allow me

some delay. The session may last far into August, but the

stars may be more propitious.

We are all grumbling at an unusually cold year, and the

progress of vegetation seems to be suspended, but I trust no

serious harm is yet done; as Louis Napoleon said, _tout peut

se retablir_.

It would indeed be delightful could I negotiate for a right

to bring you back with me on coming southwards.

So glad to hear a good account of your health and appearance

from our Lord Advocate; a clever chiel, is he not?--Ever

affectionately yours, W.E. GLADSTONE.

My wife sends her kind love.

10 Downing Street, Whitehall, July 25, 1871.

My dear Friend--From day to day my hopes of attending the

Scott Centenary have been declining, and I regret much to say

that they are now virtually dead. The extraordinary

obstructions which have been offered to public business

during the present session have now, as you will see, brought

us to such a pass that some suggest an adjournment from

August to some period in the autumn, to enable us to get

through what we have in hand. Whether we do this, or whether

we finish off at once, it is now, I fear, practically certain

that there is no chance of my being free to leave town at the

time of the Centenary.

We paid Tennyson a visit from last Saturday to Tuesday. He is

a sincere and ardent admirer of Scott, and heartily wishes

well to anything which is likely to keep him before the minds

of the on-coming generation.

His Sussex abode is beautiful, 600 feet above the sea, with a

splendid view. He seems to be very happy in his family.

With regard to the Emperor of Brazil, I think any application

made to him would come best from those officially connected

with the celebration. At any rate, I fear it would be

obtrusive on my part to mix in it, as I have no special

relation with him, though he has made a most pleasing

impression on me.

I now expect to go to Balmoral in the middle of September,

and should much wish to know whether I might visit you on my

way north or south.--Always affectionately yours, W.E.

GLADSTONE.

10 Downing Street, Whitehall, August 8, 1871.

My dear Dean Ramsay--Do what you like with the inclosed. It

is written at the last moment, and because you asked for it,

by a man who was nine hours in the House yesterday, and has

to be there nine to-day, besides a fair share of a day's work

outside it to boot.

I hope you received a subscription from Royal Bounty which I

sent for Archibald's family. I can give five pounds myself

also.--Ever your affectionate friend,

W.E. GLADSTONE.

11 Carlton House Terrace, S.W., August 8, 1871.

My dear Dean Ramsay---I wish I could convey to you adequately

the regret with which I find myself cut off from any

possibility of joining in the tribute to be paid to-morrow to

the memory of the first among the sons of Scotland. He was

the idol of my boyhood, and though I well know that my

admiration is worth little, it has never varied.

In his case the feeling is towards the man as much as towards

his works. Did we not possess a line from his pen, his life

would stand as a true epic.

I will not say I think him as strong in his modern politics

as in some other points, but I find my general estimate of

the great and heroic whole affected only in the slightest

degree by this point of qualified misgiving.

If he is out of fashion with some parts of some classes, it

is their misfortune, not his. He is above fluctuations of

time, for his place is in the Band of the Immortals.

The end of my letter shall be better worth your having than

the beginning. A fortnight ago I visited Tennyson, and found

him possessed with all the sentiments about Scott which your

celebration is meant to foster.--I remain in haste,

affectionately yours. W.E. GLADSTONE.

Hawarden Castle, Chester, January 12, 1872.

My dear Dean Ramsay--I was at once obliged, gratified, and

comforted by your letter. This has been a great storm, but it

has not rooted you up, and He whom you live to serve,

evidently has yet more service for you to do. Those remaining

in the world cannot be wife or brother to you, but how many

there are who would if they could, and who will be all

they can!

The testimonies you send me are full of touching interest.

My wife has received to-day the beautiful present of the new

edition of your book. She will enjoy it immensely. I hope to

send you, when I get to London, a little work called the

"Mirror of Monks." Let not the title alarm you. It is in the

manner of à Kempis, and is original, as well as excellent and

lofty. I have had much Scotch reading. The "Life of Dr. Lee;"

Macdonald's "Love, Law, and Theology;" last, not least, Lady

Nairne. I am equally struck with her life, and her singularly

beautiful songs, and this though she was Tory and Puritan; I

am opposed to both. Her character brings into view a problem

common to all times, but also I suppose special to this. I

take it that if there is a religious body upon earth that

fully and absolutely deserves the character of schismatical,

it is your Drummond secession. Yet not only is this noble and

holy woman in it, but even my own narrow experience has

supplied me with other types of singular excellence and

elevation within its pale; and the considerations hereby

suggested are of immensely wide application.

I trust that your Walker Cathedral will be thoroughly good,

and that your Bishop's book is prospering.

You will be glad to hear that the solemn thanksgiving at St.

Paul's may be regarded as decided on, to my great

satisfaction.

If you will let me have particulars of any case such as you

describe, I will most readily see what can be done; and now

farewell, my dear friend.--Always affectionately yours, W.E.

GLADSTONE.

If not quite so popular as some of the Dean's other correspondents, he

whose letter I bring forward here stood as high as any man in the

estimation of the better and most thinking classes of Scotsmen.

Thomas Erskine of Linlathen, though no clergyman, had his mind more

constantly full of divine thoughts than most priests; though no

technical scholar perhaps, he kept up his Greek to read Plato, and did

not think that his enjoyment of the works of high reach in classical

times unfitted him for Bible studies, which were the chief object of his

existence.

* * * * *

THOMAS ERSKINE to DEAN RAMSAY.

127 George Street, 19th Oct. 1869.

Dear Dean--I return you many thanks for that kind letter.

Neither you nor I can now be far from death--that commonest

of all events, and yet the most unknown. The majority of

those with whom you and I have been acquainted, have passed

through it, but their experience does not help us except by

calling us to prepare for it. _One_ man indeed--the Head and

Lord of men--has risen from the dead, thereby declaring death

overcome, and inviting us all to share in his victory. And

yet we feel that the victory over death cannot deliver us

from fear, unless there be also a victory over that which

makes death terrible--a victory over him that hath the power

of death, that is the devil, or prince and principle of sin.

And our Lord has achieved this also, for he put away sin _by

the sacrifice of himself_; but this sacrifice can only really

profit us when it is reproduced in us--when we, as branches

of the true Vine, live by the sap of the root, which sap is

_filial trust_, the only principle which can sacrifice

_self_, because the only principle which can enable us to

commit ourselves _unreservedly_ into the hands of God for

guidance and for disposal. We are thus _put right_ by _trust,

justified_ or _put right_ by faith in the loving fatherly

righteous purpose of God towards us.

Dear George Dundas's death has taken from me my chief social

support in Edinburgh. I was fourteen years his senior, but I

had known and loved him from his childhood. Our mothers were

sisters, and thus we had the same family ties and traditions.

I think of him now in connection with that verse, "to those

who by patient continuance in well-doing," etc.

And now farewell. Let us seek to live by the faith of the Son

of God--his filial trust I suppose, which I so much

need.--Ever truly and gratefully yours,

T. ERSKINE.

* * * * *

The three following letters hardly help on the story of the Dean's life,

but I could not pass them when they came into my hands.

The writer is Adam Sedgwick, the well-known Cambridge Professor and

Philosopher. In another capacity he was still better known. He was tutor

and vice-master of Trinity, and in his time an outside stranger of any

education, even a half-educated Scot, dropping into Cambridge society,

found a reception to be remembered. Take for choice one of their

peculiar festivals--Trinity Sunday comes to my mind--the stranger

partook of the splendid feast in that princely hall of Trinity, where

the massive college plate was arrayed and the old college customs of

welcome used, not from affectation, but kindly reverence. When the

dinner was over, the large party of Doctors and Fellows, with hundreds

of the noble youth of England, all in surplice, moved to the chapel, all

joining with reverence in the august service of the church, and later,

they and their guests, or as many as could be held, crossed to the

Combination Room, where Sedgwick filled the chair, and led the

conversation, not to glorify himself, not to display his own powers,

which were great, but to let his guests know among whom they were

placed--philosophers, first men of science, first scholars, leaders in

all kinds of learning, meeting in a noble equality, proud to meet under

his presidency--_that_ I take to be the highest triumph of civilised

hospitality. At the time of these letters the philosopher is old, but

vigorous in mind, and even gay at the age of eighty-eight.

The death of Bishop Terrot called forth the following letter from the

venerable Professor:--

* * * * *

PROFESSOR SEDGWICK to the Rev. Mr. MALCOLM.

Trinity College, Cambridge, May 1, 1872.

Dear Mr. Malcolm--I had been previously informed of the death

of my dear old friend, the Bishop of Edinburgh, but I am very

grateful to you for thinking so kindly of me, and for

communicating particulars about which I was not acquainted

previously. Accept my expressions of true-hearted sympathy,

and pray impart them to the surviving members of dear Bishop

Terrot's family. He was an old, an honoured and beloved

friend; God laid upon his old age an unusual load of the

labours and sorrows of humanity, but they are over now, and

he has reached his haven of shelter from external sorrow and

his true and enduring home of joy and peace, in the presence

of his Maker and Redeemer. I am very infirm, and am affected

by an internal malady, which, through the past winter, has

confined me to my college rooms, but I have to thank my Maker

for thousands of little comforts to mind and body, by which

I am hourly surrounded, and for His long-suffering in

extending my probation till I have entered on my 88th year.

My eyes are dim-sighted and irritable, so that I generally

dictate my letters; now, however, I am using my own pen to

express my thanks to you, in this time of your sorrow for the

loss of one so nearly and dearly connected with your clerical

life. My memory is not much shaken, except in recalling names

not very familiar to me, and I think (with the painful

exception I have alluded to) that my constitutional health is

sound. When my friends call upon me, my deafness generally

compels me to use an ear-trumpet, and I yesterday took it to

our college walks, to try if I could catch the notes of the

singing birds, which were piping all round me. But, alas! I

could not hear the notes of the singing birds, though I did

catch the harsher and louder notes of the rooks, which have

their nests in some college grounds.

May the remaining years of your life be cheered and animated

by good abiding Christian hope.--I remain very faithfully

yours, ADAM SEDGWICK.

* * * * *

PROFESSOR SEDGWICK to DEAN RAMSAY.

Trinity College, Cambridge,

29th May 1872.

My dear Dean--I this morning received your kind presentation

copy of your Reminiscences, which I shall highly value for

its own sake, and as your gift. I read little now because my

eyes are both dim-sighted and very irritable; but your book

will just suit me, as it is not a continuous tale, but a

succession of tales, each of which is perfect in itself, and

I hope to read it bit by bit without worrying my enfeebled

powers of sight.

I meant to have thanked you in an autograph, but there has

been a sudden change in the atmosphere, which is dark, heavy

and wet, and when there is a defect of light I am almost

constrained to dictate my letters to my _factotum_.

I am delighted, too, with the single sheet containing verses

addressed to yourself. The first copy by Bishop Wordsworth

appears to me quite admirable from the beauty and simplicity

of his Latin; and the other copies are good in their way.

I dare say you have seen the short verses he wrote on the

death of his first wife. They are of Roman brevity and of

exquisite tenderness.

One of the very pleasant days of my life was spent in a visit

to the small country living of Mr. Dawes of Downing,

afterwards Dean of Hereford. Your late brother was one of the

happy party. We returned together to Cambridge at a rattling

pace, and I am not sure that I ever saw his face afterwards,

for very soon he had a bilious attack which induced him to

seek health in his native country, and, alas! he sought it in

vain, for he sickened and died, to the deep sorrow of all his

friends.--I remain, my dear Dean, very truly and

gratefully yours,

A. SEDGWICK.

* * * * *

PROFESSOR SEDGWICK to Rev. Mr. MALCOLM.

Trinity College, Cambridge,

January 18, 1873.

My dear Mr. Malcolm--The infirmity of my sight compels me to

dictate this letter to one who often writes for me. Such a

bright day as this, and while the sun is shining, I could see

the traces of my pen upon a sheet of paper; but the act of

writing greatly fatigues me, and I dictate nearly all

my letters.

I very much value your melancholy memorial of my late dear

and honoured friend, the late Bishop Terrot. Though the photo

represents our late friend the bishop with his features

shrouded in the cold fixity of death, yet it does bring back

the original to the memory of those who knew him well, and I

am greatly obliged to you for this memorial of one who has

gone from our sight for ever, so far as this world is

concerned. It was very kind of you to remember the photo.

I did not know Bishop Cotterell intimately, but I have met

him many times, and I think you very happy in obtaining the

services of a man of such experience, talent, and zeal, in

the good cause of Christian truth.

I am now a very feeble, infirm, old man, toiling in the last

quarter of my 88th year. I ought to be thankful that my mind,

though feeble, remains entire: my memory is often defective,

but I have been enabled, though with great labour to myself,

and with many interruptions, to dictate a preface to a

catalogue published by the university of the older fossils of

our collection. They have kindly printed and given to me some

extra copies of my preface, one of which I will forward to

you by the book-post.

I know it can have no interest to you, excepting, perhaps, a

few paragraphs in the conclusion of only two or three

pages.--I remain, my dear Mr. Malcolm, very faithfully and

gratefully yours, A. SEDGWICK.

I have printed already more than one letter from the Rev. D.T.K.

Drummond, from admiration of their intrinsic merit, and because I wish

here to collect proofs that no diversity of Church rites or Church

policy could separate our Dean from brethren whom he regarded perhaps as

erroneous, but recognised as teaching and leading by the same principles

of freedom, which he himself revered and followed.

Rev. D.T.K. DRUMMOND to DEAN RAMSAY.

Montpelier, Saturday.

My dear Friend--Very many thanks for your most touching note,

and for the extract from your book you so kindly sent me. The

more I look into it the more I like it, and thank God for

the testimony you so unequivocally and fearlessly hear to the

_unity_ of the True Church of Christ of any age, however much

the great army he made up of various sections, of diverse

uniforms, and with special duties to perform.....

Again thanking you very warmly, and earnestly praying for all

the precious consolations of the Great Head of the Church to

be largely vouchsafed to you, believe me to be always most

affectionately yours,

D. T. K. DRUMMOND.

* * * * *

The subject of the following letter cannot be overlooked by a biographer

of Dean Ramsay:--

Rev. Dr. CANDLISH to DEAN RAMSAY.

52 Melville Street, 18th March 1872.

My dear Dean Ramsay--I have just read with most profound

thankfulness and admiration your noble Christian letter in

this day's _Scotsman_. I cannot deny myself the gratification

of expressing my feelings to you in this feeble

acknowledgment. You have done a signal service to the cause

of our Blessed Lord and common Master. I am too infirm to

write more fully all that is in my heart. You will pardon all

defects, and believe me, yours very truly,

ROB. S. CANDLISH.

The letter referred to by the distinguished divine arose out of what is

known in the Scottish Episcopal Church as the _cause celèbre_ of the

Bishop of Glasgow against the Bishop of Argyll.

The Rev. Dr. Caird, of the University of Glasgow, having invited the

Bishop of Argyll to preach to a mixed Episcopalian and Presbyterian

congregation, using his Church's liturgy, from the University pulpit of

Glasgow, the Bishop of Glasgow interposed to prevent it.

The interference of the Bishop of Glasgow with his brother prelate of

Argyll called forth a letter from Dean Ramsay, which appeared in the

_Scottish Guardian_ on 15th March 1872, and in the _Scotsman_ three days

later. In it the Dean in fact asserts a religious sympathy towards those

who differ from him, comprehensive enough to include all his Protestant

countrymen.

"In an address to the Bishop of Glasgow, signed by sixty-two clergymen,

it is stated that the service contemplated in the chapel of the

University of Glasgow would be a 'lax proceeding, and fraught with great

injury to the highest interests of the Church,' Accordingly the Bishop

of Glasgow prohibited the service, to guard the Church from complicity

in a measure which he considered subversive of her position in this

country.' In other words," says Dean Ramsay, "we are called upon to

believe that, as members of the Scottish Episcopal Church, it is our

bounden duty to withhold every appearance of any religious sympathy with

our Presbyterian fellow-countrymen and fellow-Christians. I now solemnly

declare for myself that, had I come to the conclusion that such was the

teaching of our Church, and such the views to which I was bound--viz.

that her object was thus to sever man from man, and to maintain that the

service proposed at Glasgow was really 'fraught with great injury to the

highest interests of my Church,' because it would promote union and

peace--the sun should not again set till I had given up all official

connection with a Church of which the foundations and the principles

would be so different from the landmarks and leading manifestations of

our holy faith itself. Were the principles and conduct laid down in this

address and in the answer to it fairly carried out, I cannot see any

other result than the members of our Church considering the whole of

Scotland which is external to our communion as a land of infidels, with

whom we can have no spiritual connection, and whom, indeed, we could

hardly recognise as a Christian people."

The Dean's letter is chiefly remarkable as showing that age had not

frozen his charity. It called forth many letters like that of Dr.

Candlish, and one from the little Somersetshire society which he

loved so well.

JOHN SHEPPARD, Esq., Frome, to DEAN RAMSAY.

The Cottage, Frome, 21st March 1872.

Very dear and reverend Sir--I have to thank you for the

_Scottish Guardian_ which you have kindly sent me. I regret

the divisions which appear to have arisen in your church.

Whatever comes from your pen has special interest for me; and

I am glad to see it (as it always has been) pleading the

cause of Christian charity. It appears to me that the welfare

of your church would have been promoted by acceding to the

invitation,

I think I have mentioned to you that we had lately a visit

from good Archdeacon Sandford, which we much enjoyed. We

learn with sorrow that since attendance at the Convocation

and a stay at Lambeth Palace, he has been suffering great

weakness and exhaustion, and been confined to his bed for a

month. He is now slowly recovering; but we fear his

exertions have been beyond his strength, and that his life

must be very precarious.

I hope your health is not more seriously impaired; but we

must be looking more and more, dear sir, towards the home

which pain and strife cannot enter.

My beloved Susan is very zealous as the animals' friend, and

birds of many sorts welcome and solicit her as their

patroness. She desires to be most kindly remembered to you,

with, my dear Dean, your attached old friend,

JOHN SHEPPARD.

_P.S._--Susan instructs me to say for her that, "since

reading your letter to the _Guardian_, she loves you more

than ever, if possible." My words are cool in comparison with

hers; and this is a curious message for an ancient husband

to convey.

She thinks we have not thanked you for the Bishop's Latin

verses and the translations of them. If we have not, it is

not because our "_reminiscences_" of you are faint or few.

I wish to preserve a note of a dear old friend of my own, whose talents,

perhaps I might say whose genius, was only shrouded by his modesty. I

know that the Dean felt how gratifying it was to find among his

congregation men of such accomplishment, such scholarship, as George

Moir and George Dundas, and it is something to show that they responded

very heartily to that feeling.

GEORGE MOIR to DEAN RAMSAY.

Monday morning, 14 Charlotte Square.

My dear Dean--My condition renders it frequently impossible

to attend church, from the difficulty I have in remaining for

any length of time. But I have been able to be present the

last two Sundays, and I cannot refrain from saying with how

much pleasure I listened yesterday to your discourse on

charity. It was not unworthy of the beautiful passage which

formed its ground-work; clear, consecutive, eloquent, and

with a moral application of which I wish we may all avail

ourselves.

Long may you continue to advise and instruct those who are

_to come after me_.

I was delighted to see you looking so well, and to notice the

look of vigour with which the discourse was delivered.

Believe me ever most truly yours, GEO. MOIR.

In 1866 the Dean had delivered two lectures upon "Preachers and

Preaching," but which were afterwards published in a volume called

_Pulpit Table-Talk_. That is the subject of the following letter from a

great master of the art:--

Dr. GUTHRIE to DEAN RAMSAY.

Inchgrundle, Tarfside, by Brechin,

31st August 1868.

My dear Mr. Dean--Your Pulpit Table-Talk has been sent here

to gratify, delight, and edify me. A most entertaining book;

and full of wise and admirable sentiments. All ministers and

preachers should read and digest it. Age seems to have no

more dulling effect on you than it had on Sir David Brewster,

who retained, after he had turned the threescore and ten, all

the greenery, foliage, and flowers of youth--presenting at

once the freshness of Spring, and the flowers of Summer, and

the precious fruits of Autumn.

May your bow long abide in strength! and the evening of your

days be calm and peaceful, bright with the sure and certain

hope of that better world, where, I hope, we shall meet to be

for ever with the Lord! With the greatest respect and

affectionate regards, yours ever,

THOMAS GUTHRIE.

I cannot fix the date of the following anecdote, nor does the date much

matter:--Some years ago a child, the son of the U.P. minister of

Dunblane, was so dangerously ill, that a neighbouring lady, the wife of

the Episcopal clergyman, who was much interested in the little boy,

asked her husband if it might be permitted to beg the prayers of the

congregation for his recovery. The clergyman readily assented; and when

the facts came to the knowledge of Dean Ramsay, and that it was a

suggestion of a dear friend of his, he sent the lady a copy of his

_Reminiscences_, with a letter to her husband, in which he says--"I was

greatly charmed with your account of prayers offered up for poor little

Blair. Tell your Mary I love her more than ever. It has quite affected

me, her proposing it." The husband is the Rev. Mr. Malcolm; the lady his

wife, daughter of the Dean's dear friend, Bishop Terrot.

But the end was approaching. In December 1872 it was noticed with sorrow

that for the first time since the commencement of the Church Society

(1838), of which Ramsay was really the founder, the Dean was absent from

the annual meeting of the general committee. Soon it became known that

his illness was more than a mere passing attack. During its continuance

the deepest interest was manifested in every quarter. Each day, and

"almost from hour to hour, the latest tidings were eagerly sought for.

In many churches and in many families besides those of our communion,

prayers were offered for his recovery. And when at last it became known

that he had indeed passed away from this life, it was felt that we had

lost not only a venerable Father of the Church, but one whose name,

familiar as a household word, was always associated with kindly loving

thoughts and deeds--one who was deservedly welcome wherever he went, and

whose influence was always towards peace and goodwill." The Rev. Mr.

Montgomery, our present Dean of Edinburgh, whose words I quote, truly

says that "he was a Churchman by conviction, but was ever ready to meet,

and, where occasion offered, to act with others upon the basis of a

common humanity and common Christianity."

FOOTNOTES:

[9] The margin seems to show that this page of the journal was not

written till 1843.

[10] The Bishop said that the two impediments to profitable or amusing

conversation were _humdrum_ and _humbug_.

On another occasion, the Bishop having expressed his doubt of the truth

of spirit-rapping, table-turning, etc., and being pressed with the

appeal, "Surely you must admit these are indications of Satanic agency,"

quietly answered, "It may be so, but it must be a mark of Satan being in

a state of dotage!"

[11] Alluditur ad titulum libri _Reminiscences_, etc.

[12] Here is the passage referred to by Mr. Dickens:--"There are persons

who do not sympathise with my great desire to preserve and to

disseminate these specimens of Scottish humour; indeed, I have reasons

to suspect that some have been disposed to consider the time and

attention which I have given to the subject as ill-bestowed, or at any

rate, as somewhat unsuitable to one of my advanced age and sacred

profession. If any persons do really think so, all I can say is, I do

not agree with them. National peculiarities must ever form an

interesting and improving study, inasmuch as it is a study of human

nature; and the anecdotes of this volume all tend to illustrate features

of the Scottish mind, which, as moral and religious traits of character,

are deeply interesting. I am convinced that every one, whether clergyman

or layman, who contributes to the innocent enjoyment of human life, has

joined in a good work, inasmuch as he has diminished the inducement to

_vicious_ indulgence. God knows there is enough of sin and of sorrow in

the world to make sad the heart of every Christian man. No one, I think,

need be ashamed of his endeavours to cheer the darker hours of his

fellow-travellers' steps through life, or to beguile the hearts of the

weary and the heavy laden, if only for a time, into cheerful and amusing

trains of thought. So far as my experience of life goes, I have never

found that the cause of morality and religion was promoted by sternly

checking the tendencies of our nature to relaxation and amusement. If

mankind be too ready to enter upon pleasures which are dangerous or

questionable, it is the part of wisdom and of prudence to supply them

with sources of interest, the enjoyment of which are innocent and

permissible."

APPENDIX.

* * * * *

When this Memoir was only begun I was anxious to say something of the

Dean's musical powers; and, not venturing to speak of music myself, I

asked the Dean's sister Lady Burnett to supply my deficiency. In reply I

had the following letter:--

22d February 1873.

... As a flute-player the Dean attained a proficiency rarely

seen in an amateur, and used frequently to play the very

difficult flute-obligatos of some of Handel's songs, which

are considered a hard task even for professionals. Besides

playing the flute he was thoroughly conversant with the

mechanism of the organ, and had some knowledge of the

violoncello, though he never gave much time to the study of

that instrument. But perhaps the most interesting point in

this part of the character of my brother was his ardent love

for Handel's music. There was not a song or chorus of the

great master that he was not acquainted with, and in his

younger days he used to sing the bass music from the Messiah

and other Oratorios with great taste and skill--his voice, a

fine mellow baritone, being well suited to these songs. You

may remember his lectures on Handel delivered at the

Philosophical Institution some years ago, and how

enthusiastic he was when describing the manifold beauties of

his favourite composer, and how interested and eager he

became when the choir sang the music he knew and loved

so well....

I wrote this on Saturday evening when sitting alone,

thinking of the great loss I had sustained; the variety there

was in Edward's character; how accomplished he was; what

knowledge he had on many subjects; his fine taste, his

gentleness and Christian piety; and then his strong sense of

humour and fun; how amusing he was, and such droll things

broke out every now and then! even to the very last so genial

and social, and altogether such a man that we "ne'er shall

look upon his like again."--Yours very sincerely, LAUDERDALE

BURNETT.

REMINISCENCES.

PREFACE

TO

TWENTY-SECOND EDITION.

In preparing another duodecimo edition of the "Reminiscences of Scottish

Life and Character," I gladly avail myself of the opportunity afforded

me of reproducing some of the materials which had been added to the

octavo edition, especially that part at page 322, etc., which advocated

a modified interchange of pulpits between Episcopalian and Presbyterian

clergymen; to add also some excellent Scottish stories which had been

sent to me by kind friends. I am desirous also of repeating the

correction of an error into which we had fallen in copying the account

of a toast in the Highland form, which had been kindly contributed by

the respected minister of Moulin, in the octavo edition at page 70. To

Lowland conceptions, the whole proceeding has somewhat the appearance of

a respectable company at once becoming insane; still it ought to be

correct, and the printer had, by mistake, inserted a word that has no

existence in the Gaelic language. The text reads--

"Lud ris! Lud ris! You again! you again!"

It should be

Sud ris! Sud ris! Yon again! yon again!

that is--"you cheer again."

The demand for a twenty-second edition of a volume of "Scottish

Reminiscences" embracing subjects which are necessarily of a limited and

local character--a demand which has taken place during the course of

little more than fifteen years since its first publication--proves, I

think, the correctness of the idea upon which it was first

undertaken--viz. that it should depict a phase of national manners which

was fast passing away, and thus, in however humble a department,

contribute something to the materials of history, by exhibiting social

customs and habits of thought which at a particular era were

characteristic of a race. It may perhaps be very fairly said that the

Reminiscences came out at a time specially suitable to rescue these

features of national life and character from oblivion. They had _begun_

to fade away, and many had, to the present generation, become obsolete.

To those who have not given their attention to the subject for the

elucidation of which this volume has been written, I would present two

specimens of the sort of materials from which they may expect to find

these Reminiscences are compiled. They are chosen to indicate a style of

life and manners now fast fading away, and are taken from a period which

lies within the scope of our own recollections. Now, a subject like this

can only be illustrated by a copious application of anecdotes which must

show the features of the past. And let me premise that I make use of

anecdotes not for the purpose of telling a good story, but solely in the

way of _illustration_. I am quite certain that there was an originality,

a dry and humorous mode of viewing persons and events, quite _peculiar_

to the older Scottish characters. And I am equally certain, that their

peculiar humour can only be exhibited in examples. From the late Mr.

Erskine of Linlathan I received the following:--Mr. Erskine recollected

an old housekeeper at Airth, who belonged to this class of character. A

speech of this Mrs. Henderson was preserved in the family as having been

made by her at the time of the execution of Louis XVI. in 1793. She was

noticing the violent emotion exhibited by Mr. Bruce of Kinnaird, the

Abyssinian traveller, at the sad event which had just taken place, and

added, in the following quaint and caustic terms, "There's Kinnaird

greeting as if there was nae a saunt on earth but himsel' and the king

o' France." How utterly unlike anything that would be said on such an

occasion by an English person in the same position in life!

For the same purpose, let me introduce a characteristic little Scottish

scene, which my cousin, the late Sir Thomas Burnett of Leys, used to

describe with great humour. Sir Thomas had a tenant on his estate, a

very shrewd clever man, whom he was sometimes in the habit of consulting

about country matters. On one occasion he came over to Crathes Castle,

and asked to see Sir Thomas. He was accordingly ushered in, accompanied

by a young man of very simple appearance, who gazed about the room in a

stupid vacant manner. The old man began by saying that he understood

there was a farm on the estate to be let, and that he knew a very fine

young man whom he wished to recommend as tenant. He said he had plenty

of _siller_, and had studied farming on the most approved

principles--sheep-farming in the Highlands, cattle-farming in the

Lowlands, and so forth, and, in short, was a model farmer. When he had

finished his statement, Sir Thomas, looking very significantly at his

companion, addressed the old man (as he was usually addressed in the

county by the name of his farm)--"Well, Drummy, and is this your friend

whom you propose for the farm?" to which Drummy replied, "Oh fie, na.

Hout! that is a kind o' a _Feel_, a friend (_i.e._ a relation) o' the

wife's, and I just brought him ower wi' me to show him the place."

The question of change in the "life and character" of a people, during

the period embraced in the reminiscences of an aged individual, must

always be a subject for deep and serious consideration. In the case of

Scotland, such changes comprise much that is interesting and amusing.

But they also contain much matter for serious thought and reflection to

the lovers of their country. In preparing the present edition of these

Reminiscences, I have marked out many further changes, and have marked

them from a deep feeling of interest in the moral and religious

improvement of my country. To my readers I say that I hope we have all

learned to view such changes under a more serious national aspect than a

mere question of amusement or speculation. The Christian, when he looks

around him on society, must observe many things which, as a patriot, he

wishes might be permanent, and he marks many things which, as a patriot,

he wishes were obliterated. What he desires should be enduring in his

countrymen is, that abiding attributes of Scottish character should be

associated amongst all men with truth and virtue--with honour and kindly

feelings--with temperance and self-denial--with divine faith and

love--with generosity and benevolence. On the other hand, he desires

that what may become questions of tradition, and, in regard to his own

land, REMINISCENCES of Scottish life, shall be--cowardice and folly,

deceit and fraud, the low and selfish motives to action which make men

traitors to their God and hateful to their fellow-men.

It would be worse than affectation--it would be ingratitude--to disclaim

being deeply impressed by the favourable reception which has for so long

a time been given to these Reminiscences at home, in India, in America,

and in all countries where Scotchmen are to be found.

It is not the least of the enjoyments which I have had in compiling

these pages, to hear of the kind sympathy which they have called forth

in other minds, and often in the minds of strangers; and it would be

difficult for me to describe the pleasure I have received when told by a

friend that this work had cheered him in the hour of depression or of

sickness--that even for a few moments it may have beguiled the weight of

corroding care and worldly anxiety. I have been desirous of saying a

word in favour of old Scottish life; and with some minds, perhaps, the

book may have promoted a more kindly feeling towards hearts and heads of

bygone days. And certainly I can now truly say, that my highest

reward--my greatest honour and gratification--would spring from the

feeling that it might become a standard volume in Scottish cottage

libraries, and that by the firesides of Scotland these pages might

become as Household Words.

EDINBURGH, 23 AINSLIE PLACE.

_St. Andrew's Day_[13]

FOOTNOTES:

[13] These words, "St. Andrew's Day," were deleted by the Dean; and

though he lived till the 27th December, he did not touch the

proof-sheets after the 19th November 1872.

REMINISCENCES

OF

SCOTTISH LIFE AND CHARACTER.

* * * * *

CHAPTER THE FIRST.

INTRODUCTORY.

I wish my readers always to bear in mind that these Reminiscences are

meant to bear upon the changes which would include just such a

revolution as that referred to at page 15 in the bonnet practice of

Laurencekirk. There is no pretension to any researches of _antiquarian_

character; they are in fact Reminiscences which come almost within

personal recognition. A kind friend gave me anecdotes of the past in her

hundredth year. In early life I was myself consigned to the care of my

grand-uncle, Sir Alexander Ramsay, residing in Yorkshire, and he was

born in 1715; so that I can go pretty far back on my own experience, and

have thus become cognisant of many changes which might be expected as a

consequence of such experience.

I cannot imagine a better illustration of the sort of change in the

domestic relations of life that has taken place in something like the

time we speak of, than is shown in the following anecdote, which was

kindly communicated to me by Professor MacGregor of the Free Church. I

have pleasure in giving it in the Professor's own words:--"I happened

one day to be at Panmure Castle when Lord Panmure (now Dalhousie) was

giving a treat to a school, and was presented by the Monikie Free Church

Deacons' Court with a Bible on occasion of his having cleared them

finally of debt on their buildings. Afterwards his Lordship took me into

the library, where, among other treasures, we found a handsome folio

_Prayer Book_ presented to his ancestor Mr. Maule of Kelly by the

Episcopalian minister of the district, on occasion of his having, by Mr.

Maule's help, been brought out of jail. The coincidence and contrast

were curiously interesting."

For persons to take at various intervals a retrospective view of life,

and of the characters they have met with, seems to be a natural feeling

of human nature; and every one is disposed at times to recall to memory

many circumstances and many individuals which suggest abundant subjects

for reflection. We thus find recollections of scenes in which we have

been joyous and happy. We think of others with which we only associate

thoughts of sorrow and of sadness. Amongst these varied emotions we find

subjects for reminiscences, of which we would bury the feelings in our

own hearts as being too sacred for communication with others. Then,

again, there are many things of the past concerning which we delight to

take counsel with friends and contemporaries. Some persons are disposed

to go beyond these personal communications with friends, and having

through life been accustomed to write down memoranda of their own

feelings, have published them to the world. Many interesting works have

thus been contributed to our literature by writers who have sent forth

volumes in the form of _Memoirs of their Own Times, Personal

Recollections, Remarks upon Past Scenes_, etc. etc. It is not within

the scope of this work to examine these, nor can I specify the many

communications I have from different persons, both at home and in our

colonial possessions; in fact, the references in many cases have been

lost or mislaid. But I must acknowledge, however briefly, my obligations

to Dr. Carruthers, Inverness, and to Dr. Cook, Haddington, who have

favoured me with valuable contributions.

Now, when we come to examine the general question of memoirs connected

with contemporary history, no work is better known in connection with

this department of Scottish literature than the _History of his Own

Times_, by my distinguished relative, Dr. Gilbert Burnett, Bishop of

Salisbury. Bishop Burnett's father, Lord Crimond, was third son of my

father's family, the Burnetts of Leys, in Kincardineshire. There is now

at Crathes Castle, the family seat, a magnificent full-length portrait

of the Bishop in his robes, as Prelate of the Garter, by Sir Godfrey

Kneller. It was presented by himself to the head of his family. But, as

one great object of the Bishop's history was to laud and magnify the

personal character and public acts of William of Orange, his friend and

patron, and as William was held in special abhorrence by the Jacobite

party in Scotland, the Bishop holds a prominent, and, with many, a very

odious position in Scottish Reminiscences; in fact, he drew upon himself

and upon his memory the determined hatred and unrelenting hostility of

adherents to the Stuart cause. They never failed to abuse him on all

occasions, and I recollect old ladies in Montrose, devoted to the exiled

Prince, with whom the epithet usually applied to the Prelate was that of

"Leein' Gibby[14]."

Such language has happily become a "Reminiscence." Few would be found

now to apply such an epithet to the author of the _History of his Own

Times_, and certainly it would not be applied on the ground of the

Jacobite principles to which he was opposed. But a curious additional

proof of this hostility of Scottish Jacobites to the memory of Burnett

has lately come to light. In a box of political papers lately found at

Brechin Castle, belonging to the Panmure branch of the family, who, in

'15, were forfeited on the ground of their Jacobite opinions and

adherence to the cause of Charles Edward, there has been found a severe

and bitter supposed _epitaph_ for Bishop Burnett. By the kindness of the

Earl of Dalhousie I was permitted to see this epitaph, and, if I chose,

to print it in this edition. I am, however, unwilling to stain my pages

with such an ungenerous and, indeed, I may say, so scurrilous a

representation of the character of one who, in the just opinion of our

Lyon King-at-Arms, himself a Burnett of the Kemnay branch, has

characterised the Bishop of Salisbury as "true and honest, and far

beyond the standard of his times as a Clergyman and as a Bishop." But

the epitaph found in these Panmure papers shows clearly the prejudices

of the age in which it was written, and in fact only embodies something

of that spirit and of those opinions which we have known as still

lingering in our own Reminiscences.

If it were not on my part a degree of presumption, I might be inclined

to consider myself in this volume a fellow-labourer with the late

accomplished and able Mr. Robert Chambers. In a very limited sphere it

takes a portion of the same field of illustration. I should consider

myself to have done well if I shall direct any of my readers to his able

volumes. Whosoever wishes to know what this country really was in times

past, and to learn, with a precision beyond what is supplied by the

narratives of history, the details of the ordinary current of our

social, civil, and national life, must carefully study the _Domestic

Annals of Scotland_. Never before were a nation's domestic features so

thoroughly portrayed. Of those features the specimens of quaint Scottish

humour still remembered are unlike anything else, but they are fast

becoming obsolete, and my motive for this publication has been an

endeavour to preserve marks of the past which would of themselves soon

become obliterated, and to supply the rising generation with pictures of

social life, faded and indistinct to their eyes, but the strong lines of

which an older race still remember. By thus coming forward at a

favourable moment, no doubt many beautiful specimens of SCOTTISH

MINSTRELSY have in this manner been preserved from oblivion by the

timely exertions of Bishop Percy, Ritson, Walter Scott, and others. Lord

Macaulay, in his preface to _The Lays of Ancient Rome_, shows very

powerfully the tendency in all that lingers in the memory to become

obsolete, and he does not hesitate to say that "Sir Walter Scott was but

_just in time_ to save the precious relics of the minstrelsy of

the Border."

It is quite evident that those who have in Scotland come to an advanced

age, must have found some things to have been really changed about them,

and that on them great alterations have already taken place. There are

some, however, which yet may be in a transition state; and others in

which, although changes are threatened, still it cannot be said that the

changes are begum I have been led to a consideration of impending

alterations as likely to take place, by the recent appearance of two

very remarkable and very interesting papers on subjects closely

connected with great social Scottish questions, where a revolution of

opinion may be expected. These are two articles in _Recess Studies_

(1870), a volume edited by our distinguished Principal, Sir Alexander

Grant. One essay is by Sir Alexander himself, upon the "Endowed

Hospitals of Scotland;" the other by the Rev. Dr. Wallace of the

Greyfriars, upon "Church Tendencies in Scotland." It would be quite

irrelevant for me to enlarge here upon the merits of those articles. No

one could study them attentively without being impressed with the

ability and power displayed in them by the authors, their grasp of the

subjects, and their fair impartial judgment upon the various questions

which come under their notice.

From these able disquisitions, and from other prognostics, it is quite

evident that sounder principles of political economy and accurate

experience of human life show that much of the old Scottish hospital

system was quite wrong and must be changed. Changes are certainly going

on, which seem to indicate that the very hard Presbyterian views of some

points connected with Church matters are in transition. I have elsewhere

spoken of a past sabbatarian strictness, and I have lately received an

account of a strictness in observing the national fast-day, or day

appointed for preparation in celebrating Holy Communion, which has in

some measure passed away. The anecdote adduced the example of two

drovers who were going on very quietly together. They had to pass

through a district whereof one was a parishioner, and during their

progress through it the one whistled with all his might, the other

screwed up his mouth without emitting a single sound. When they came to

a burn, the silent one, on then crossing the stream, gave a skip, and

began whistling with all his might, exclaiming with great triumph to his

companion, "I'm beyond the parish of Forfar now, and I'll whistle as

muckle as I like." It happened to be the Forfar parish fast-day. But a

still stricter observance was shown by a native of Kirkcaldy, who, when

asked by his companion drover in the south of Scotland "why he didna

whistle," quietly answered, "I canna, man; it's our fast-day in

Kirkcaldy." I have an instance of a very grim assertion of extreme

sabbatarian zeal. A maid-servant had come to a new place, and on her

mistress quietly asking her on Sunday evening to wash up some dishes,

she indignantly replied, "Mem, I hae dune mony sins, and hae mony sins

to answer for; but, thank God, I hae never been sae far left to mysell

as to wash up dishes on the Sabbath day."

I hope it will not for a moment be supposed we would willingly throw any

ridicule or discouragement on the Scottish national tendencies on the

subject, or that we are not proud of Scotland's example of a sacred

observance of the fourth commandment in the letter and the spirit. We

refer now to injudicious extremes, such, indeed, as our Lord condemned,

and which seem a fair subject for notice amongst Scottish peculiarities.

But the philosophy of the question is curious. Scotland has ever made

her boast of the simplest form of worship, and a worship free from

ceremonial, more even than the Church of England, which is received as,

in doctrine and ritual, the Church of the Reformation. In some respects,

therefore, may you truly say the only standing recognised observance in

the ceremonial part of Presbyterian worship is the Sabbath day--an

observance which has been pushed in times past even beyond the extreme

of a spirit of Judaism, as if the sabbatical ceremonial were made a

substitute for all other ceremony. In this, as well as in other matters

which we have pointed out, what changes have taken place, what changes

are going on! It may be difficult to assign precise causes for such

changes having taken place among us, and that during the lifetime of

individuals now living to remember them. It has been a period for many

changes in manners, habits, and forms of language, such as we have

endeavoured to mark in this volume. The fact of such changes is

indisputable, and sometimes it is difficult not only to assign the

causes for them, but even to describe in what the changes themselves

consist. They are gradual, and almost imperceptible. Scottish people

lose their Scotchness; they leave home, and return without those

expressions and intonations, and even peculiarity of voice and manner,

which used to distinguish us from Southern neighbours. In all this, I

fear, we lose our originality. It has not passed away, but with every

generation becomes less like the real type.

I would introduce here a specimen of the precise sort of changes to

which I would refer, as an example of the reminiscences intended to be

introduced into these pages. We have in earlier editions given an

account of the pains taken by Lord Gardenstone to extend and improve his

rising village of Laurencekirk; amongst other devices he had brought

down, as settlers, a variety of artificers and workmen from England.

With these he had introduced a _hatter_ from Newcastle; but on taking

him to church next day after his arrival, the poor man saw that he might

decamp without loss of time, as he could not expect much success in his

calling at Laurencekirk; in fact, he found Lord Gardenstone's and his

own the only hats in the kirk--the men all wore then the flat Lowland

bonnet. But how quickly times change! My excellent friend, Mr. Gibbon

of Johnstone, Lord Gardenstone's own place, which is near Laurencekirk,

tells me that at the present time _one_ solitary Lowland bonnet lingers

in the parish.

Hats are said to have been first brought into Inverness by Duncan Forbes

of Culloden, the Lord President, who died in 1747. Forbes is reported to

have presented the provost and bailies with cocked hats, which they wore

only on Sundays and council days. About 1760 a certain Deacon Young

began daily to wear a hat, and the country people crowding round him,

the Deacon used humorously to say, "What do you see about me, sirs? am I

not a mortal man like yourselves?" The broad blue bonnets I speak of

long continued to be worn in the Highland capital, and are still

occasionally to be seen there, though generally superseded by the

Glengarry bonnet and ordinary hat. It is a minor change, but a very

decided one.

The changes which have taken place, and which give rise to such

"Reminiscences," are very numerous, and meet us at every turn in

society. Take, for example, the case of our Highland chieftains. We may

still retain the appellation, and talk of the chiefs of Clanranald, of

Glengarry, etc. But how different is a chieftain of the present day,

even from some of those of whom Sir Walter Scott wrote as existing so

late as 1715 or 1745! Dr. Gregory (of immortal _mixture_ memory) used to

tell a story of an old Highland chieftain, intended to show how such

Celtic potentates were, even in his day, still inclined to hold

themselves superior to all the usual considerations which affected

ordinary mortals. The doctor, after due examination, had, in his usual

decided and blunt manner, pronounced the liver of a Highlander to be at

fault, and to be the cause of his ill-health. His patient, who could not

but consider this as taking a great liberty with a Highland chieftain,

roared out--"And what the devil is it to you whether I have a liver or

not?" But there is the case of dignity in Lowland Lairds as well as

clan-headship in Highland Chiefs. In proof of this, I need only point to

a practice still lingering amongst us of calling landed proprietors, not

as Mr. So-and-so, but by the names of their estates. I recollect, in my

early days, a number of our proprietors were always so designated. Thus,

it was not as Mr. Carnegie, Mr. Douglas, Mr. Irvine, etc., but as

Craigo, Tillwhilly, Drum, etc.

An amusing application of such a territorial denominative system to the

locality of London was narrated to me by a friend who witnessed it. A

Scottish gentleman, who had never been in the metropolis, arrived fresh

from the Highlands, and met a small party at the house of a London

friend. A person was present of most agreeable manners, who delighted

the Scotsman exceedingly. He heard the company frequently referring to

this gentleman's residence in Piccadilly, to his house in Piccadilly,

and so on. When addressed by the gentleman, he commenced his reply,

anxious to pay him all due respect--"Indeed, Piccadilly," etc. He

supposed Piccadilly must be his own territorial locality. Another

instance of mistake, arising out of Scottish ignorance of London ways,

was made by a North Briton on his first visit to the great city. He

arrived at a hotel in Fleet Street, where many of the country coaches

then put up. On the following morning he supposed that such a crowd as

he encountered could only proceed from some "occasion," and must pass

off in due time. Accordingly, a friend from Scotland found him standing

in a doorway, as if waiting for some one. His countryman asked him what

made him stand there. To which he answered--"Ou, I was just stan'ing

till the kirk had scaled." The ordinary appearance of his native borough

made the crowd of Fleet Street suggest to him the idea of a church crowd

passing out to their several homes, called in Scotland a "kirk scaling."

A London street object called forth a similar simple remark from a

Scotsman. He had come to London on his way to India, and for a few days

had time to amuse himself by sight-seeing before his departure. He had

been much struck with the appearance of the mounted sentinels at the

Horse Guards, Whitehall, and bore them in remembrance during his Eastern

sojourn. On his return, after a period of thirty years, on passing the

Horse Guards, he looked up to one, and seeing him, as he thought,

unchanged as to horse, position, and accoutrements, he exclaimed--"Od,

freend, ye hae had a lang spell on't sin' I left," supposing him to be

the identical sentinel he had seen before he sailed.

It is interesting to preserve national peculiarities which are thus

passing away from us. One great pleasure I have had in their collection,

and that is the numerous and sympathetic communications I have received

from Scotsmen, I may literally say from Scotsmen _in all quarters of the

world_; sometimes communicating very good examples of Scottish humour,

and always expressing their great pleasure in reading, when in distant

lands and foreign scenes, anecdotes which reminded them of Scotland, and

of their ain days of "auld langsyne."

There is no mistaking the national attachment so strong in the Scottish

character. Men return after long absence, in this respect, unchanged;

whilst absent, Scotsmen _never_ forget their Scottish home. In all

varieties of lands and climates their hearts ever turn towards the "land

o' cakes and brither Scots." Scottish festivals are kept with Scottish

feeling on "Greenland's icy mountains" or "India's coral strand." I

received an amusing account of an ebullition of this patriotic feeling

from my late noble friend the Marquis of Lothian, who met with it when

travelling in India. He happened to arrive at a station upon the eve of

St. Andrew's Day, and received an invitation to join a Scottish dinner

party in commemoration of old Scotland. There was a great deal of

Scottish enthusiasm. There were _seven_ sheep-heads (singed) down the

table; and Lord Lothian told me that after dinner he sang with great

applause "The Laird o' Cockpen."

Another anecdote arising out of Scotsmen meeting in distant lands, is

rather of a more serious character, and used to be told with exquisite

humour by the late lamented Dr. Norman Macleod. A settler in Australia,

who for a long time had heard nothing of his Scottish kith and kin, was

delighted at the arrival of a countryman direct from his own part of the

country. When he met with him, the following conversation took place

between them:--_Q_. "Ye ken my fouk, friend; can ye tell me gin my

faather's alive?" _A_.--"Hout, na; he's deed." _Q_.--"Deed! What did he

dee o'? was it fever?" _A_.--"Na, it wasna fever." _Q_.--"Was it

cholera?" _A_.--"Na." The question being pressed, the stranger drily

said, "Sheep," and then he accompanied the ominous word by delicately

and significantly pointing to the jugular under his ear. The man had

been hanged for sheep-stealing!

It must always be amusing for Scotsmen to meet in distant lands, and

there to play off on each other the same dry, quaint humour which

delighted them in their native land, and in their early days at home. An

illustration of this remark has been communicated by a kind

correspondent at Glasgow. Mrs. Hume, a true Scot, sends me the following

dialogue, accompanied by a very clever etching of the parties, from the

Melbourne _Punch_, August 17, 1871, headed "Too Poor,--_Night of

Waverley Concert_."

_Southron_.--You here, Mac! you ought to have been at the concert, you

know. Aren't you one of the 'Scots wha hae?'

_Mac_.--Indeed no. I'm are o' the Scots wha hae na, or I wadna be here

the nicht.

He would not have stayed at home if he had been one of the "Scots wha

hae."

I am assured that the genuineness of the following anecdote is

unquestionable, as my informant received it from the person to whom it

occurred. A popular Anglican 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, grape, or indeed any kind of

green fruit. This fact seemed to evoke considerable surprise from the

company, but a cautious Scotsman, of a practical, matter-of-fact turn of

mind, who had listened with much unconcern, drily remarked, "It's a

peety but ye had been in Paradise, and there micht na hae been ony faa."

I have spoken elsewhere of the cool matter-of-fact manner in which the

awful questions connected with the funerals of friends are often

approached by Scottish people, without the least intention or purpose of

being irreverent or unfeeling. By the kindness of Mr. Lyon, I am enabled

to give an authentic anecdote of a curious character, illustrative of

this habit of mind, and I cannot do better than give it in his own

words:--"An old tenant of my late father, George Lyon of Wester Ogil,

many years ago, when on his deathbed, and his end near at hand, his wife

thus addressed him: 'Willie, Willie, as lang as ye can speak, tell us

are ye for your burial-baps round or _square_?' Willie having responded

to this inquiry, was next asked if the _murners_ were to have _glooes_

(gloves) or mittens, the former being articles with fingers, the latter

having only a thumb-piece; and Willie, having also answered this

question, was allowed to depart in peace."

There could not be a better example of this familiar handling, without

meaning offence, than one which has just been sent to me by a kind

correspondent. I give her own words. "Happening to call on a poor

neighbour, I asked after the children of a person who lived close by."

She replied, "They're no hame yet; gaed awa to the English kirk to get

_a clap_ o' _the heid_. It was the day of _confirmation_ for St. Paul's.

This definition of the 'outward and visible sign' would look rather odd

in the catechism. But the poor woman said it from no disrespect; it was

merely her way of answering my question." But remarks on serious

subjects often go to deeper views of religious matters than might be

expected from the position of the parties and the terms made use of.

Of the wise and shrewd judgment of the Scottish character, as bearing

upon religious pretensions, I have an apt example from my friend Dr.

Norman Macleod. During one of the late 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 neighbour of

Dr. Macleod, who asked him what _he_ thought of John as a preacher, and

of his doctrine. Scratching his head, as if in some doubt, he replied,

"I'm no verra sure o' Jock. I never ken't a man _sae sure o' Heaven, and

sae sweert to be gaing tae't_." He showed his sagacity, for John was

soon after in prison for theft.

Another story gives a good idea of the Scottish matter-of-fact view of

things being brought to bear upon a religious question without meaning

to be profane or irreverent. Dr. Macleod was on a Highland loch when a

storm came on which threatened serious consequences. The doctor, a large

powerful man, was accompanied by a clerical friend of diminutive size

and small appearance, who began to speak seriously to the boatmen of

their danger, and proposed that all present should join in prayer. "Na,

na," said the chief boatman; "let the _little_ ane gang to pray, but

first the big ane maun tak an oar." Illustrative of the same spirit was

the reply of a Scotsman of the genuine old school, "Boatie" of Deeside,

of whom I have more to say, to a relative of mine. He had been nearly

lost in a squall, and saved after great exertion, and was told by my

aunt that he should be grateful to providence for his safety. The man,

not meaning to be at all ungrateful, but viewing his preservation in

the purely hard matter-of-fact light, quietly answered, "Weel, weel,

Mrs. Russell; Providence here or Providence there, an I hadna worked

sair mysell I had been drouned."

Old Mr. Downie, the parish minister of Banchory, was noted, in my

earliest days, for his quiet pithy remarks on men and things, as they

came before him. His reply to his son, of whose social position he had

no very exalted opinion, was of this class. Young Downie had come to

visit his father from the West Indies, and told him that on his return

he was to be married to a lady whose high qualities and position he

spoke of in extravagant terms. He assured his father that she was "quite

young, was very rich, and very beautiful." "Aweel, Jemmy," said the old

man, very quietly and very slily, "I'm thinking there maun be some

_faut_." Of the dry sarcasm we have a good example in the quiet

utterance of a good Scottish phrase by an elder of a Free Kirk lately

formed. The minister was an eloquent man, and had attracted one of the

town-council, who, it was known, hardly ever entered the door of a

church, and now came on motives of curiosity. He was talking very grand

to some of the congregation: "Upon my word, your minister is a very

eloquent man. Indeed, he will quite convert me." One of the elders,

taking the word in a higher sense than the speaker intended, quietly

replied, "Indeed, Bailie, there's _muckle need_."

A kind correspondent sends me an illustration of this quaint

matter-of-fact view of a question as affecting the sentiments or the

feelings. He tells me he knew an old lady who was a stout large woman,

and who with this state of body had many ailments, which she bore

cheerfully and patiently. When asked one day by a friend, "How she was

keeping," she replied, "Ou, just middling; there's _ower muckle o' me_

to be a' weel at ae time." No Englishwoman would have given such an

answer. The same class of character is very strongly marked in a story

which was told by Mr. Thomas Constable, who has a keen appreciation of a

good Scottish story, and tells it inimitably. He used to visit an old

lady who was much attenuated by long illness, and on going up stairs one

tremendously hot afternoon, the daughter was driving away the flies,

which were very troublesome, and was saying, "Thae flies will eat up a'

that remains o' my puir mither." The old lady opened her eyes, and the

last words she spoke were, "What's left o' me's guid eneuch for them."

The spirit of caution and wariness by which the Scottish character is

supposed to be distinguished has given rise to many of these national

anecdotes.

Certainly this cautious spirit thus pervaded the opinions of the

Scottish architect who was called upon to erect a building in England

upon the long-lease system, so common with Anglican proprietors, but

quite new to our Scottish friend. When he found the proposal was to

build upon the tenure of 999 years, he quietly suggested, "Culd ye no

mak it a _thousand_? 999 years'll be slippin' awa'."

But of all the cautious and careful answers we ever heard of was one

given by a carpenter to an old lady in Glasgow, for whom he was working,

and the anecdote is well authenticated. She had offered him a dram, and

asked him whether he would have it then or wait till his work was

done--"Indeed, mem," he said, "there's been sic a power o' sudden deaths

lately that I'll just tak it now." He would guard against contingency

and secure his dram.

The following is a good specimen of the same humour:--A minister had

been preaching against covetousness and the love of money, and had

frequently repeated how "love of money was the root of all evil" Two old

bodies walking home from church--one said, "An' wasna the minister

strang upo' the money?" "Nae doubt," said the other, rather

hesitatingly; and added, "ay, but it's grand to hae the wee bit siller

in your haund when ye gang an errand."

I have still another specimen of this national, cool, and deliberative

view of a question, which seems characteristic of the temperament of our

good countrymen. Some time back, when it was not uncommon for challenges

to be given and accepted for insults, or supposed insults, an English

gentleman was entertaining a party at Inverness with an account of the

wonders he had seen and the deeds he had performed in India, from whence

he had lately arrived. He enlarged particularly upon the size of the

tigers he had met with at different times in his travels, and by way of

corroborating his statements, assured the company that he had shot one

himself considerably above forty feet long. A Scottish gentleman

present, who thought that these narratives rather exceeded a traveller's

allowed privileges, coolly said that no doubt those were very remarkable

tigers; but that he could assure the gentleman there were in that

northern part of the country some wonderful animals, and, as an example,

he cited the existence of a skate-fish captured off Thurso, which

exceeded half-an-acre in extent. The Englishman saw this was intended as

a sarcasm against his own story, so he left the room in indignation, and

sent his friend, according to the old plan, to demand satisfaction or an

apology from the gentleman, who had, he thought, insulted him. The

narrator of the skate story coolly replied, "Weel, sir, gin yer freend

will tak' a few feet aff the length o' his tiger, we'll see what can be

dune about the breadth o' the skate." He was too cautious to commit

himself to a rash or decided course of conduct. When the tiger was

shortened, he would take into consideration a reduction of superficial

area in his skate.

A kind correspondent has sent me about as good a specimen of dry

Scottish quiet humour as I know. A certain Aberdeenshire laird, who kept

a very good poultry-yard, could not command a fresh egg for his

breakfast, and felt much aggrieved by the want. One day, however, he met

his grieve's wife with a nice basket, and very suspiciously going

towards the market; on passing and speaking a word, he was enabled to

discover that her basket was full of beautiful white eggs. Next time he

talked with his grieve, he said to him, "James, I like you very well,

and I think you serve me faithfully, but I cannot say I admire your

wife." To which the cool reply was, "Oh, 'deed, sir, I'm no surprised at

that, for I dinna muckle admire her mysel'."

An answer very much resembling this, and as much to the point, was that

of a gudewife on Deeside, whose daughter had just been married and had

left her for her new home. A lady asked the mother very kindly about her

daughter, and said she hoped she liked her new home and new relations.

"Ou, my lady, she likes the parish weel eneuch, but she doesna think

muckle o' her _man_!"

The natives of Aberdeenshire are distinguished for the two qualities of

being very acute in their remarks and very peculiar in their language.

Any one may still gain a thorough knowledge of Aberdeen dialect and see

capital examples of Aberdeen humour. I have been supplied with a

remarkable example of this combination of Aberdeen shrewdness with

Aberdeen dialect. In the course of the week after the Sunday on which

several elders of an Aberdeen parish had been set apart for parochial

offices, a knot of the parishioners had assembled at what was in all

parishes a great place of resort for idle gossiping--the smiddy or

blacksmith's workshop. The qualifications of the new elders were

severely criticised. One of the speakers emphatically laid down that the

minister should not have been satisfied, and had in fact made a most

unfortunate choice. He was thus answered by another parish

oracle--perhaps the schoolmaster, perhaps a weaver:--"Fat better culd

the man dee nir he's dune?--he bud tae big's dyke wi' the feal at fit

o't." He meant there was no choice of material--he could only take

what offered.

By the kindness of Dr. Begg, I have a most amusing anecdote to

illustrate how deeply long-tried associations were mixed up with the

habits of life in the older generation. A junior minister having to

assist at a church in a remote part of Aberdeenshire, the parochial

minister (one of the old school) promised his young friend a good glass

of whisky-toddy after all was over, adding slily and very significantly,

"and gude _smuggled_ whusky." His Southron guest thought it incumbent to

say, "Ah, minister, that's wrong, is it not? you know it is contrary to

Act of Parliament." The old Aberdonian could not so easily give up his

fine whisky to what he considered an unjust interference; so he quietly

said, "Oh, Acts o' Parliament lose their breath before they get to

Aberdeenshire."

There is something very amusing in the idea of what may be called the

"fitness of things," in regard to snuff-taking, which occurred to an

honest Highlander, a genuine lover of sneeshin. At the door of the

Blair-Athole Hotel he observed standing a magnificent man in full

tartans, and noticed with much admiration the wide dimensions of his

nostrils in a fine upturned 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 grand _accommodation_[15]!"

I don't know a better example of the sly sarcasm than the following

answer of a Scottish servant to the violent command of his enraged

master. A well-known coarse and abusive Scottish law functionary, when

driving out of his grounds, was shaken by his carriage coming in contact

with a large stone at the gate. He was very angry, and ordered the

gatekeeper to have it removed before his return. On driving home,

however, he encountered another severe shock by the wheels coming in

contact with the very same stone, which remained in the very same place.

Still more irritated than before, in his usual coarse language he called

the gatekeeper, and roared out: "You rascal, if you don't send that

beastly stone to h---, I'll break your head." "Well," said the man

quietly, and as if he had received an order which he had to execute, and

without meaning anything irreverent, "aiblins gin it were sent to heevan

_it wad be mair out o' your Lordship's way_."

I think about as cool a Scottish "aside" as I know, was that of the old

dealer who, when exhorting his son to practise honesty in his dealings,

on the ground of its being the "best policy," quietly added, "I _hae

tried baith_"

In this work frequent mention is made of a class of old _ladies_,

generally residing in small towns, who retained till within the memory

of many now living the special characteristics I have referred to. Owing

to local connection, I have brought forward those chiefly who lived in

Montrose and the neighbourhood. But the race is extinct; you might as

well look for hoops and farthingales in society as for such characters

now. You can scarcely imagine an old lady, however quaint, now making

use of some of the expressions recorded in the text, or saying, for the

purpose of breaking up a party of which she was tired, from holding bad

cards, "We'll stop now, bairns; I'm no enterteened;" or urging more

haste in going to church on the plea, "Come awa, or I'll be ower late

for the 'wicked man'"--her mode of expressing the commencement of

the service.

Nothing could better illustrate the quiet pawky style for which our

countrymen have been distinguished, than the old story of the piper and

the wolves. A Scottish piper was passing through a deep forest. In the

evening he sat down to take his supper. He had hardly begun, when a

number of hungry wolves, prowling about for food, collected round him.

In self-defence, the poor man began to throw pieces of his victuals to

them, which they greedily devoured. When he had disposed of all, in a

fit of despair he took his pipes and began to play. The unusual sound

terrified the wolves, which, one and all, took to their heels and

scampered off in every direction: on observing which, Sandy quietly

remarked, "Od, an I'd kenned ye liket the pipes sae weel, I'd a gien ye

a spring _afore_ supper."

This imperturbable mode of looking at the events of life is illustrated

by perhaps the _most_ cautious answer on record, of the Scotsman who,

being asked if he could play the fiddle, warily answered, "He couldna

say, for he had never tried." But take other cases. For example: One

tremendously hot day, during the old stage-coach system, I was going

down to Portobello, when the coachman drew up to take in a gentleman who

had hailed him on the road. He was evidently an Englishman--a fat man,

and in a perfect state of "thaw and dissolution" from the heat and dust.

He wiped himself, and exclaimed, as a remark addressed to the company

generally, "D----d hot it is." No one said anything for a time, till a

man in the corner slily remarked, "I dinna doubt, sir, but it may." The

cautiousness against committing himself unreservedly to any proposition,

however plausible, was quite delicious.

A more determined objection to giving a categorical answer occurred, as

I have been assured, in regard to a more profound question. A party

travelling on a railway got into deep discussion on theological

questions. Like Milton's spirits in Pandemonium, they had

"Reason'd high

Of providence, fore-knowledge, will, and fate--

Fix'd fate, free-will, fore-knowledge absolute;

And found no end, in wand'ring mazes lost."

A plain Scotsman present seemed much interested in these matters, and

having expressed himself as not satisfied with the explanations which

had been elicited in the course of discussion on a particular point

regarding predestination, one of the party said to him that he had

observed a minister, whom they all knew, in the adjoining compartment,

and that when the train stopped at the next station a few minutes, he

could go and ask _his_ opinion. The good man accordingly availed himself

of the opportunity to get hold of the minister, and lay their difficulty

before him. He returned in time to resume his own place, and when they

had started again, the gentleman who had advised him, finding him not

much disposed to voluntary communication, asked if he had seen the

minister. "O ay," he said, "he had seen him." "And did you propose the

question to him?" "O ay." "And what did he say?" "Oh, he just said he

didna ken; and what was mair he didna _care!_"

I have received the four following admirable anecdotes, illustrative of

dry Scottish pawky humour, from an esteemed minister of the Scottish

Church, the Rev. W. Mearns of Kinneff. I now record them nearly in the

same words as his own kind communication. The anecdotes are as

follow:--An aged minister of the old school, Mr. Patrick Stewart, one

Sunday took to the pulpit a sermon without observing that the first leaf

or two were so worn and eaten away that he couldn't decipher or announce

the text. He was not a man, however, to be embarrassed or taken aback by

a matter of this sort, but at once intimated the state of matters to the

congregation,--"My brethren, I canna tell ye the text, for the mice hae

eaten it; but we'll just begin whaur the mice left aff, and when I come

to it I'll let you ken."

In the year 1843, shortly after the Disruption, a parish minister had

left the manse and removed to about a mile's distance. His pony got

loose one day, and galloped down the road in the direction of the old

glebe. The minister's man in charge ran after the pony in a great fuss,

and when passing a large farm-steading on the way, cried out to the

farmer, who was sauntering about, but did not know what had taken

place--"Oh, sir, did _ye_ see the minister's shault?" "No, no," was the

answer,--"but what's happened?" "Ou, sir, fat do ye think? the

minister's shault's _got lowse_ frae his tether, an' I'm frichtened he's

ta'en the road doun to the auld glebe." "Weel-a-wicht!"--was the shrewd

clever rejoinder of the farmer, who was a keen supporter of the old

parish church, "I wad _na_ wonder at _that_. An' I'se warrant, gin the

minister was gettin' _lowse_ frae _his_ tether, he wad jist tak the

same road."

An old clerical friend upon Speyside, a confirmed 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 which had

commenced, and thus accosted his faithful domestic:--"Annie; I say,

Annie, _we've_ committed a mistak the day. Ye maun jist gang your waa's

hame, and ye'll get my sermon oot o' my breek-pouch, an' we'll sing to

the praise o' the Lord till ye come back again." Annie, of course, at

once executed her important mission, and brought the sermon out of "the

breek-pouch," and the service, so far as we heard, was completed without

further interruption.

My dear friend, the late Rev. Dr. John Hunter, told me an anecdote very

characteristic of the unimaginative matter-of-fact Scottish view of

matters. One of the ministers of Edinburgh, a man of dry humour, had a

daughter who had for some time passed the period of youth and of

beauty. She had become an Episcopalian, an event which the Doctor

accepted with much good-nature, and he was asking her one day if she did

not intend to be confirmed. "Well," she said, "I don't know. I

understand Mr. Craig always kisses the candidates whom he prepares, and

I could not stand that." "Indeed, Jeanie," said the Doctor slily, "gin

Edward Craig _were_ to gie ye a kiss, I dinna think ye would be muckle

the waur."

Many anecdotes characteristic of the Scottish peasant often turn upon

words and ideas connected with Holy Scripture. This is not to be

considered as in any sense profane or irreverent; but it arises from the

Bible being to the peasantry of an older generation their library--their

only book. We have constant indications of this almost exclusive

familiarity with Scripture ideas. At the late ceremonial in the north,

when the Archbishop of Canterbury laid the foundation of a Bishop's

Church at Inverness, a number of persons, amid the general interest and

kindly feeling displayed by the inhabitants, were viewing the procession

from a hill as it passed along. When the clergy, to the number of sixty,

came on, an old woman, who was watching the whole scene with some

jealousy, exclaimed, at sight of the surplices, "There they go, the

_whited_ sepulchres!" I received another anecdote illustrative of the

same remark from an esteemed minister of the Free Church: I mean of the

hold which Scripture expressions have upon the minds of our Scottish

peasantry. One of his flock was a sick nervous woman, who hardly ever

left the house. But one fine afternoon, when she was left alone, she

fancied she would like to get a little air in the field adjoining the

house. Accordingly she put on a bonnet and wrapped herself in a huge

red shawl. Creeping along the dyke-side, some cattle were attracted

towards her, and first one and then another gathered round, and she took

shelter in the ditch till she was relieved by some one coming up to her

rescue. She afterwards described her feelings to her minister in strong

language, adding, "And eh, sir! when I lay by the dyke, and the beasts

round a' glowerin' at me, I thocht what Dauvid maun hae felt when he

said--'Many bulls have compassed me; strong bulls of Bashan have beset

me round.'"

With the plainness and pungency of the old-fashioned Scottish language

there was sometimes a coarseness of expression, which, although commonly

repeated in the Scottish drawing-room of last century, could not now be

tolerated. An example of a very plain and downright address of a laird

has been recorded in the annals of "Forfarshire Lairdship." He had

married one of the Misses Guthrie, who had a strong feeling towards the

Presbyterian faith in which she had been brought up, although her

husband was one of the zealous old school of Episcopalians. The young

wife had invited her old friend, the parish minister, to tea, and had

given him a splendid "_four hours."_ Ere the table was cleared the laird

came in unexpectedly, and thus expressed his indignation, not very

delicately, at what he considered an unwarrantable exercise of

hospitality at his cost:--"Helen Guthrie, ye'll no think to save yer ain

saul at the expense of my meal-girnel!"

The answer of an old woman under examination by the minister to the

question from the Shorter Catechism--"What are the _decrees_ of God?"

could not have been surpassed by the General Assembly of the Kirk, or

even the Synod of Dort--"Indeed, sir, He kens that best Himsell." We

have an answer analogous to that, though not so pungent, in a catechumen

of the late Dr. Johnston of Leith. She answered his own question,

patting him on the shoulder--"'Deed, just tell it yersell, _bonny_

doctor (he was a very handsome man); naebody can tell it better."

To pass from the answers of "persons come to years of discretion"--I

have elsewhere given examples of peculiar traits of character set forth

in the answers of mere _children_, and no doubt a most amusing

collection might be made of very juvenile "Scottish Reminiscences." One

of these is now a very old story, and has long been current amongst

us:--A little boy who attended a day-school in the neighbourhood, when

he came home in the evening was always asked how he stood in his own

class. The invariable answer made 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 claim to so

distinguished a 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." It was a very _practical_ answer of the little girl, when asked

the meaning of "darkness," as it occurred in Scripture reading--"Ou,

just steek your een." On the question, What was the "pestilence that

walketh in darkness"? being put to a class, a little boy answered, after

consideration--"Ou, it's just _bugs_." I did not anticipate when in a

former edition I introduced this answer, which I received from my nephew

Sir Alexander Ramsay, that it would call forth a comment so interesting

as one which I have received from Dr. Barber of Ulverston. He sends me

an extract from Matthew's _Translation of the Bible_, which he received

from Rev. L.R. Ayre, who possesses a copy of date 1553, from which it

appears that Psalm xci. 5 was thus translated by Matthew, who adopted

his translation from Coverdale and Tyndale:--"So that thou shalt not

need to be afrayed for any bugge by nyght, nor for the arrow that flyeth

by day[16]." Dr. Barber ingeniously remarks--"Is it possible the little

boy's mother had one of these old Bibles, or is it merely a

coincidence?"

The innocent and unsophisticated answers of children on serious subjects

are often very amusing. Many examples are recorded, and one I have

received seems much to the point, and derives a good deal of its point

from the Scottish turn of the expressions. An elder of the kirk having

found a little boy and his sister playing marbles on Sunday, put his

reproof in this form, not a judicious one for a child:--"Boy, do ye know

where children go to who play marbles on Sabbath-day?" "Ay," said the

boy, "they gang doun' to the field by the water below the brig." "No,"

roared out the elder, "they go to hell, and are burned." The little

fellow, really shocked, called to his sister, "Come awa', Jeanie, here's

a man swearing awfully."

A Scotch story like that of the little boy, of which the humour

consisted in the dry application of the terms in a sense different from

what was intended by the speaker, was sent to me, but has got spoilt by

passing through the press. It must be Scotch, or at least, is composed

of Scottish materials--the Shorter Catechism and the bagpipes. A piper

was plying his trade in the streets, and a strict elder of the kirk,

desirous to remind him that it was a somewhat idle and profitless

occupation, went up to him and proposed solemnly the first question of

the Shorter Catechism, "What is the chief end of man?" The good piper,

thinking only of his own business, and supposing that the question had

reference to some pipe melody, innocently answered, "Na, I dinna ken the

tune, but if ye'll whistle it I'll try and play it for ye."

I have said before, and I would repeat the remark again and again, that

the object of this work is _not_ to string together mere funny stories,

or to collect amusing anecdotes. We have seen such collections, in which

many of the anecdotes are mere Joe Millers translated into Scotch. The

purport of these pages has been throughout to illustrate Scottish life

and character, by bringing forward those modes and forms of expression

by which alone our national peculiarities can be familiarly illustrated

and explained. Besides Scottish replies and expressions which are most

characteristic--and in fact unique for dry humour, for quaint and

exquisite wit--I have often referred to a consideration of dialect and

proverbs. There can be no doubt there is a force and beauty in our

Scottish _phraseology_, as well as a quaint humour, considered merely

_as_ phraseology, peculiar to itself. I have spoken of the phrase "Auld

langsyne," and of other words, which may be compared in their Anglican

and Scottish form. Take the familiar term common to many singing-birds.

The English word linnet does not, to my mind, convey so much of simple

beauty and of pastoral ideas as belong to our Scottish word LINTIE.

I recollect hearing the Rev. Dr. Norman Macleod give a most interesting

account of his visit to Canada. In the course of his eloquent narrative

he mentioned a conversation he had with a Scottish emigrant, who in

general terms spoke favourably and gratefully of his position in his

adopted country. But he could not help making this exception when he

thought of the "banks and braes o' bonny Doon"--"But oh, sir," he said,

"there are nae _linties_ i' the wuds." How touching the words in his own

dialect! The North American woods, although full of birds of beautiful

plumage, it is well known have no singing-birds.

A worthy Scottish Episcopal minister one day met a townsman, a breeder

and dealer in singing-birds. The man told him he had just had a child

born in his family, and asked him if he would baptize it. He thought the

minister could not resist the offer of a bird. "Eh, Maister Shaw," he

said, "if ye'll jist do it, I hae a fine lintie the noo, and if ye'll do

it, I'll gie ye the lintie." He quite thought that this would settle

the matter!

By these remarks I mean to express the feeling that the word _lintie_

conveys to my mind more of tenderness and endearment towards the little

songster than linnet. And this leads me to a remark (which I do not

remember to have met with) that Scottish dialects are peculiarly rich in

such terms of endearment, more so than the pure Anglican. Without at all

pretending to exhaust the subject, I may cite the following as examples

of the class of terms I speak of. Take the names for parents--"Daddie"

and "Minnie;" names for children, "My wee bit lady" or "laddie," "My wee

bit lamb;" of a general nature, "My ain kind dearie." "Dawtie,"

especially used to young people, described by Jamieson a darling or

favourite, one who is _dawted_--_i.e._ fondled or caressed. My "joe"

expresses affection with familiarity, evidently derived from _joy_, an

easy transition--as "My joe, Janet;" "John Anderson, my joe, John." Of

this character is Burns's address to a wife, "My winsome"--_i.e._

charming, engaging--"wee thing;" also to a wife, "My winsome

marrow"--the latter word signifying a dear companion, one of a pair

closely allied to each other; also the address of Rob the Ranter to

Maggie Lauder, "My bonnie bird." Now, we would remark, upon this

abundant nomenclature of kindly expressions in the Scottish dialect,

that it assumes an interesting position as taken in connection with the

Scottish Life and _Character_, and as a set-off against a frequent short

and _grumpy_ manner. It indicates how often there must be a current of

tenderness and affection in the Scottish heart, which is so frequently

represented to be, like its climate, "stern and wild." There could not

be such _terms_ were the feelings they express unknown. I believe it

often happens that in the Scottish character there is a vein of deep and

kindly feeling lying hid under a short, and hard and somewhat stern

manner. Hence has arisen the Scottish saying which is applicable to such

cases--"His girn's waur than his bite:" his disposition is of a softer

nature than his words and manner would often lead you to suppose.

There are two admirable articles in _Blackwood's Magazine,_ in the

numbers for November and December 1870, upon this subject. The writer

abundantly vindicates the point and humour of the Scottish tongue. Who

can resist, for example, the epithet applied by Meg Merrilies to an

unsuccessful probationer for admission to the ministry:--"a sticket

stibbler"? Take the sufficiency of Holy Scripture as a pledge for any

one's salvation:--"There's eneuch between the brods o' the Testament to

save the biggest sinner i' the warld." I heard an old Scottish

Episcopalian thus pithily describe the hasty and irreverent manner of a

young Englishman:--"He ribbled aff the prayers like a man at the heid o'

a regiment." A large family of young children has been termed "a great

sma' family." It was a delicious dry rejoinder to the question--"Are you

Mr. So-and-so?" "It's a' that's o' me" (_i.e._ to be had for him.) I

have heard an old Scottish gentleman direct his servant to mend the fire

by saying, "I think, Dauvid, we wadna be the waur o' some coals."

There is a pure Scottish term, which I have always thought more

expressive than any English word of ideas connected with manners in

society--I mean the word to blether, or blethering, or blethers.

Jamieson defines it to "talk nonsense." But it expresses far more--it

expresses powerfully, to Scottish people, a person at once shallow,

chattering, conceited, tiresome, voluble.

There is a delicious servantgirlism, often expressed in an answer given

at the door to an inquirer: "Is your master at home, or mistress?" as

the case may be. The problem is to save the direct falsehood, and yet

evade the visit; so the answer is--"Ay, he or she is at hame; but

he's no _in_"

The transition from Scottish _expressions_ to Scottish Poetry is easy

and natural. In fact, the most interesting feature now belonging to

Scottish life and social habits is, to a certain extent, becoming with

many a matter of reminiscence of _Poetry in the Scottish dialect_, as

being the most permanent and the most familiar feature of Scottish

characteristics. It is becoming a matter of history, in so far as we

find that it has for some time ceased to be cultivated with much

ardour, or to attract much popularity. In fact, since the time of

Burns, it has been losing its hold on the public mind. It is a

remarkable fact that neither Scott nor Wilson, both admirers of Burns,

both copious writers of poetry themselves, both also so distinguished as

writers of Scottish _prose_, should have written any poetry strictly in

the form of pure Scottish dialect. "Jock o' Hazeldean" I hardly admit to

be an exception. It is not Scottish. If, indeed, Sir Walter wrote the

scrap of the beautiful ballad in the "Antiquary"--

"Now haud your tongue, baith wife and carle,

And listen, great and sma',

And I will sing of Glenallan's Earl,

That fought at the red Harlaw"--