An amusing account was given of an interview and conversation between

this lady and the provost of Montrose. She had demurred at paying some

municipal tax with which she had been charged, and the provost, anxious

to prevent her getting into difficulty on the subject, kindly called to

convince her of the fairness of the claim, and the necessity of paying

it. In his explanation he referred back to his own bachelor days when a

similar payment had been required from him. "I assure you, ma'am," he

said, "when I was in your situation I was called upon in a similar way

for this tax;" to which she replied, in quiet scorn, "In my situation!

an' whan were ye in my situation?--an' auld maid leevin' in a flat wi'

an ae lass." But the complaints of such imposts were urged in a very

humorous manner by another Montrose old lady, Miss Helen Carnegy of

Craigo; she hated paying taxes, and always pretended to misunderstand

their nature. One day, receiving a notice of such payment signed by the

provost (Thorn), she broke out: "I dinna understand thae taxes; but I

just think that when Mrs. Thorn wants a new gown, the provost sends me a

tax paper!" The good lady's naïve rejection of the idea that she could

be in any sense "fond of her landlord," already referred to, was

somewhat in unison with a similar feeling recorded to have been

expressed by the late Mr. Wilson, the celebrated Scottish vocalist. He

was taking lessons from the late Mr. Finlay Dun, one of the most

accomplished musicians of the day. Mr. Dun had just returned from Italy,

and, impressed with admiration of the deep pathos, sentiment, and

passion of the Italian school of music, he regretted to find in his

pupil so lovely a voice and so much talent losing much of its effect for

want of feeling. Anxious, therefore, to throw into his friend's

performance something of the Italian expression, he proposed to bring it

out by this suggestion: "Now, Mr. Wilson, just suppose that I am your

lady love, and sing to me as you could imagine yourself doing were you

desirous of impressing her with your earnestness and affection." Poor

Mr. Wilson hesitated, blushed, and, under doubt how far such a

personification even in his case was allowable, at last remonstrated,

"Ay, Mr. Dun, ye forget I'm a married man!" A case has been reported of

a country girl, however, who thought it possible there might be an

excess in such scrupulous regard to appearances. On her marriage-day,

the youth to whom she was about to be united said to her in a triumphant

tone, "Weel, Jenny, haven't I been unco ceevil?" alluding to the fact

that during their whole courtship he had never even given her a kiss.

Her quiet reply was, "Ou, ay, man; _senselessly_ ceevil."

One of these Montrose ladies and a sister lived together; and in a very

quiet way they were in the habit of giving little dinner-parties, to

which occasionally they invited their gentlemen friends. However,

gentlemen were not always to be had; and on one occasion, when such a

difficulty had occurred, they were talking over the matter with a

friend. The one lady seemed to consider such an acquisition almost

essential to the having a dinner at all. The other, who did not see the

same necessity, quietly adding, "But, indeed, oor Jean thinks a man

_perfect salvation_."

Very much of the same class of remarks was the following sly observation

of one of the sisterhood. At a well-known tea-table in a country town in

Forfarshire, the events of the day, grave and gay, had been fully

discussed by the assembled sisterhood. The occasion was improved by an

elderly spinster, as follows:--"Weel, weel, sirs, these are solemn

events--death and marriage--but ye ken they're what we must a' come

till." "Eh, Miss Jeany! ye have been lang spared," was the arch reply of

a younger member.

There was occasionally a pawky semi-sarcastic humour in the replies of

some of the ladies we speak of, that was quite irresistible, of which I

have from a friend a good illustration in an anecdote well known at the

time. A late well-known member of the Scottish bar, when a youth, was

somewhat of a dandy, and, I suppose, somewhat short and sharp in his

temper. He was going to pay a visit in the country, and was making a

great fuss about his preparing and putting up his habiliments. His old

aunt was much annoyed at all this bustle, and stopped him by the

somewhat contemptuous question, "Whar's this you're gaun, Bobby, that

ye mak sic a grand wark about yer claes?" The young man lost temper, and

pettishly replied, "I'm going to the devil." "'Deed, Robby, then," was

the quiet answer, "ye needna be sae nice, he'll juist tak' ye as

ye are."

Ladies of this class had a quiet mode of expressing themselves on very

serious subjects, which indicated their quaint power of description,

rather than their want of feeling. Thus, of two sisters, when one had

died, it was supposed that she had injured herself by an imprudent

indulgence in strawberries and cream, of which she had partaken in the

country. A friend was condoling with the surviving sister, and,

expressing her sorrow, had added, "I had hoped your sister was to live

many years." To which her relative replied--"Leeve! hoo could she leeve?

she juist felled[58] hersell at Craigo wi' straeberries and 'ream!"

However, she spoke with the same degree of coolness of her own decease.

For when her friend was comforting her in illness, by the hopes that she

would, after winter, enjoy again some of their country spring butter,

she exclaimed, without the slightest idea of being guilty of any

irreverence, "Spring butter! by that time I shall be buttering in

heaven." When really dying, and when friends were round her bed she

overheard one of them saying to another, "Her face has lost its colour;

it grows like a sheet of paper." The quaint spirit even then broke out

in the remark, "Then I'm sure it maun be _broon_ paper." A very

strong-minded lady of the class, and, in Lord Cockburn's language,

"indifferent about modes and habits[59]," had been asking from a lady

the character of a cook she was about to hire. The lady naturally

entered a little upon her moral qualifications, and described her as a

very decent woman; the response to which was, "Oh, d--n her decency; can

she make good collops?"--an answer which would somewhat surprise a lady

of Moray Place now, if engaged in a similar discussion of a

servant's merits.

The Rev. Dr. Cook of Haddington supplies an excellent anecdote, of which

the point is in the dry Scottish answer: An old lady of the Doctor's

acquaintance, about seventy, sent for her medical attendant to consult

him about a sore throat, which had troubled her for some days. Her

medical man was ushered into her room, decked out with the now

prevailing fashion, a mustache and flowing beard. The old lady, after

exchanging the usual civilities, described her complaint to the worthy

son of Æsculapius. "Well," says he, "do you know, Mrs. Macfarlane, I

used to be much affected with the very same kind of sore throat, but

ever since I allowed my mustache and beard to grow, I have never been

troubled with it." "Aweel, aweel," said the old lady drily, "that may be

the case, but ye maun prescribe some other method for me to get quit o'

the sair throat; for ye ken, doctor, I canna adopt _that_ cure."

Then how quaint the answer of old Mrs. Robison, widow of the eminent

professor of natural philosophy, and who entertained an inveterate

dislike to everything which she thought savoured of _cant_. She had

invited a gentleman to dinner on a particular day, and he had accepted,

with the reservation, "If I am spared."--"Weel, weel," said Mrs.

Robison; "if ye're deed, I'll no expect ye."

I had two grand-aunts living at Montrose at that time--two Miss Ramsays

of Balmain. They were somewhat of the severe class---Nelly especially,

who was an object rather of awe than of affection. She certainly had a

very awful appearance to young apprehensions, from the strangeness of

her headgear. Ladies of this class Lord Cockburn has spoken of as

"having their peculiarities embodied in curious outsides, as they

dressed, spoke, and did exactly as they chose." As a sample of such

"curious outside and dress," my good aunt used to go about the house

with an immense pillow strapped over her head--warm but formidable.

These two maiden grand-aunts had invited their niece to pay them a

visit--an aunt of mine, who had made what they considered a very

imprudent marriage, and where considerable pecuniary privations were too

likely to accompany the step she had taken. The poor niece had to bear

many a taunt directed against her improvident union, as for

example:--One day she had asked for a piece of tape for some work she

had in hand as a young wife expecting to become a mother. Miss Nelly

said, with much point, "Ay, Kitty, ye shall get a bit knittin' (_i.e._ a

bit of tape). We hae a'thing; we're no married." It was this lady who,

by an inadvertent use of a term, showed what was passing in her mind in

a way which must have been quite transparent to the bystanders. At a

supper which she was giving, she was evidently much annoyed at the

reckless and clumsy manner in which a gentleman was operating upon a ham

which was at table, cutting out great lumps, and distributing them to

the company. The lady said, in a very querulous tone, "Oh, Mr. _Divot_,

will you help Mrs. So and So?"--divot being a provincial term for a turf

or sod cut out of the green, and the resemblance of it to the pieces

carved out by the gentleman evidently having taken possession of her

imagination. Mrs. Helen Carnegy of Craigo, already mentioned, was a

thorough specimen of this class. She lived in Montrose, and died in

1818, at the advanced age of ninety-one. She was a Jacobite, and very

aristocratic in her feelings, but on social terms with many burghers of

Montrose, or Munross as it was called. She preserved a very nice

distinction of addresses, suited to the different individuals in the

town, according as she placed them in the scale of her consideration.

She liked a party at quadrille, and sent out her servant every morning

to invite the ladies required to make up the game, and her directions

were graduated thus:--"Nelly, ye'll ging to Lady Carnegy's, and mak my

compliments, and ask the _honour_ of her ladyship's company, and that of

the Miss Carnegys, to tea this evening; and if they canna come, ging to

the Miss Mudies, and ask the _pleasure_ of their company; and if they

canna come, ye may ging to Miss Hunter and ask the _favour_ of her

company and if she canna come, ging to Lucky Spark and _bid her come_."

A great confusion existed in the minds of some of those old-fashioned

ladies on the subject of modern inventions and usages. A Montrose old

lady protested against the use of steam-vessels, as counteracting the

decrees of Providence in going against wind and tide, vehemently

asserting, "I would hae naething to say to thae _im-pious_ vessels."

Another lady was equally discomposed by the introduction of gas, asking,

with much earnestness, "What's to become o' the puir whales'?" deeming

their interests materially affected by this superseding of their oil. A

lady of this class, who had long lived in country retirement, coming up

to Edinburgh, was, after an absence of many years, going along Princes

Street about the time when the water-carts were introduced for

preventing the dust, and seeing one of them passing, rushed from off the

pavement to the driver, saying, "Man, ye're _skailin'_ a' the water."

Such being her ignorance of modern improvements.

There used to be a point and originality in expressions made use of in

regard to common matters, unlike what one finds now; for example: A

country minister had been invited, with his wife, to dine and spend the

night at the house of one of his lairds. Their host was very proud of

one of the very large beds which had just come into fashion, and in the

morning asked the lady how she had slept in it. "Oh, vary well, sir;

but, indeed, I thought I'd lost the minister athegither."

Nothing, however, in my opinion, comes up to the originality and point

of the Montrose old maiden lady's most "exquisite reason" for not

subscribing to the proposed fund for organising a volunteer corps in

that town. It was at the time of expected invasion at the beginning of

the century, and some of the town magistrates called upon her and

solicited her subscription to raise men for the service of the

king--"Indeed," she answered right sturdily, "I'll dae nae sic thing; I

ne'er could raise a man _for mysell_, and I'm no ga'in to raise men for

King George."

Some curious stories are told of ladies of this class, as connected with

the novelties and excitement of railway travelling. Missing their

luggage, or finding that something has gone wrong about it, often causes

very terrible distress, and might be amusing, were it not to the

sufferer so severe a calamity. I was much entertained with the

earnestness of this feeling, and the expression of it from an old Scotch

lady whose box was not forthcoming at the station where she was to

stop. When urged to be patient, her indignant exclamation was--"I can

bear ony pairtings that may be ca'ed for in God's providence; but I

_canna stan' pairtin' frae my claes_."

The following anecdote from the west exhibits a curious confusion of

ideas arising from the old-fashioned prejudice against Frenchmen and

their language, which existed in the last generation. During the long

French war, two old ladies in Stranraer were going to the kirk; the one

said to the other, "Was it no a wonderfu' thing that the Breetish were

aye victorious ower the French in battle?" "Not a bit," said the other

old lady; "dinna ye ken the Breetish aye say their prayers before ga'in

into battle?" The other replied, "But canna the French say their prayers

as weel?" The reply was most characteristic, "Hoot! jabbering bodies,

wha could _understan'_ them?"

Some of these ladies, as belonging to the old county families, had very

high notions of their own importance, and a great idea of their

difference from the burgher families of the town. I am assured of the

truth of the following naïve specimen of such family pride:--One of the

olden maiden ladies of Montrose called one day on some ladies of one of

the families in the neighbourhood, and on being questioned as to the

news of the town, said, "News! oh, Bailie----'s eldest son is to be

married." "And pray," was the reply, "and pray, Miss ----, an' fa' ever

heard o' a merchant i' the toon o' Montrose _ha'in_ an _eldest son_?"

The good lady thought that any privilege of primogeniture belonged only

to the family of _laird_.

It is a dangerous experiment to try passing off ungrounded claims upon

characters of this description. Many a clever sarcastic reply is on

record from Scottish ladies, directed against those who wished to

impose upon them some false sentiment. I often think of the remark of

the outspoken ancient lady, who, when told by her pastor, of whose

disinterestedness in his charge she was not quite sure, that he "had a

call from his Lord and Master to go," replied--"'Deed, sir, the Lord

micht hae ca'ed and ca'ed to ye lang eneuch to Ouchtertoul (a very small

stipend), and ye'd ne'er hae letten on that ye heard him."

At the beginning of this century, when the fear of invasion was rife, it

was proposed to mount a small battery at the water-mouth by

subscription, and Miss Carnegy was waited on by a deputation from the

town-council. One of them having addressed her on the subject, she heard

him with some impatience, and when he had finished, she said, "Are ye

ane o' the toon-cooncil." He replied, "I have that honour, ma'am." To

which she rejoined, "Ye may hae that _profit_, but honour ye hae nane;"

and then to the point, she added, "But I've been tell't that ae day's

wark o' twa or three men wad mount the cannon, and that it may be a'

dune for twenty shillings; now there's twa punds to ye." The councillor

pocketed the money and withdrew. On one occasion, as she sat in an easy

chair, having assumed the habits and privileges of age, Mr. Mollison,

the minister of the Established Kirk, called on her to solicit for some

charity. She did not like being asked for money, and, from her Jacobite

principles, she certainly did not respect the Presbyterian Kirk. When he

came in she made an inclination of the head, and he said, "Don't get up,

madam." She replied, "Get up! I wadna rise out o' my chair for King

George himsell, let abee a whig minister."

This was plain speaking enough, but there is something quite inimitable

in the matter-of-factness of the following story of an advertisement,

which may tend to illustrate the Antiquary's remark to Mrs. Macleuchar,

anent the starting of a coach or fly to Queensferry. A carrier, who

plied his trade between Aberdeen and a village considerably to the north

of it, was asked by one of the villagers, "Fan are ye gaen to the toon"

(Aberdeen). To which he replied, "I'll be in on Monanday, God willin'

and weather permitting an' on Tiseday, _fither or no_."

It is a curious subject the various shades of Scottish dialect and

Scottish expressions, commonly called Scotticisms. We mark in the course

of fifty years how some disappear altogether; others become more and

more rare, and of all of them we may say, I think, that the specimens of

them are to be looked for every year more in the descending classes of

society. What was common amongst peers, judges, lairds, advocates, and

people of family and education, is now found in humbler ranks of life.

There are few persons perhaps who have been born in Scotland, and who

have lived long in Scotland, whom a nice southern ear might not detect

as from the north. But far beyond such nicer shades of distinction,

there are strong and characteristic marks of a Caledonian origin, with

which some of us have had practical acquaintance. I possess two curious,

and now, I believe, rather scarce, publications on the prevalent

Scotticisms of our speaking and writing. One is entitled "Scotticisms

designed to Correct Improprieties of Speech and Writing," by Dr. Beattie

of Aberdeen. The other is to the same purpose, and is entitled,

"Observations on the Scottish Dialect," by the late Right Honourable Sir

John Sinclair. Expressions which were common in their days, and used by

persons of all ranks, are not known by the rising generation. Many

amusing equivoques used to be current, arising from Scotch people in

England applying terms and expressions in a manner rather surprising to

southern ears. Thus, the story was told of a public character long

associated with the affairs of Scotland, Henry Dundas (first Viscount

Melville), applying to Mr. Pitt for the loan of a horse "_the length_ of

Highgate;" a very common expression in Scotland, at that time, to

signify the distance to which the ride was to extend. Mr. Pitt

good-humouredly wrote back to say that he was afraid he had not a horse

in his possession _quite so long_ as Mr. Dundas had mentioned, but he

had sent the longest he had. There is a well-known case of

mystification, caused to English ears by the use of Scottish terms,

which took place in the House of Peers during the examination of the

Magistrates of Edinburgh touching the particulars of the Porteous Mob in

1736. The Duke of Newcastle having asked the Provost with what kind of

shot the town-guard commanded by Porteous had loaded their muskets,

received the unexpected reply, "Ou, juist sic as ane shutes dukes and

sic like fules wi'." The answer was considered as a contempt of the

House of Lords, and the poor provost would have suffered from

misconception of his patois, had not the Duke of Argyle (who must have

been exceedingly amused) explained that the worthy magistrate's

expression, when rendered into English, did not apply to Peers and

Idiots but to _ducks_ and _water-fowl_. The circumstance is referred to

by Sir W. Scott in the notes to the Heart of Mid-Lothian. A similar

equivoque upon the double meaning of "Deuk" in Scottish language

supplied material for a poor woman's honest compliment to a benevolent

Scottish nobleman. John, Duke of Roxburghe, was one day out riding, and

at the gate of Floors he was accosted by an importunate old beggar

woman. He gave her half-a-crown, which pleased her so much that she

exclaimed, "Weel's me on your _guse_ face, for Duke's ower little

tae ca' ye."

A very curious list may be made of words used in Scotland in a sense

which would be quite unintelligible to Southerns. Such applications are

going out, but I remember them well amongst the old-fashioned people of

Angus and the Mearns quite common in conversation. I subjoin some

specimens:--

_Bestial_ signifies amongst Scottish agriculturists cattle generally,

the whole aggregate number of beasts on the farm. Again, a Scottish

farmer, when he speaks of his "hogs" or of buying "hogs," has no

reference to swine, but means young sheep, i.e. sheep before they have

lost their first fleece.

_Discreet_ does not express the idea of a prudent or cautious person so

much as of one who is not rude, but considerate of the opinions of

others. Such application of the word is said to have been made by Dr.

Chalmers to the late Henry, Bishop of Exeter. These two eminent

individuals had met for the first time at the hospitable house of the

late Mr. Murray, the publisher. On the introduction taking place, the

Bishop expressed himself so warmly as to the pleasure it gave him to

meet so distinguished and excellent a man as Dr. Chalmers, that the

Doctor, somewhat surprised at such an unexpected ebullition from an

English Church dignitary, could only reply, "Oh, I am sure your lordship

is very 'discreet[60].'"

_Enterteening_ has in olden Scottish usage the sense not of amusing, but

interesting. I remember an honest Dandie Dinmont on a visit to Bath. A

lady, who had taken a kind charge of him, accompanied him to the

theatre, and in the most thrilling scene of Kemble's acting, what is

usually termed the dagger scene in Macbeth, she turned to the farmer

with a whisper, "Is not that fine?" to which the confidential reply was,

"Oh, mem, its verra _enterteening!_" Enterteening expressing his idea of

the effect produced.

_Pig_, in old-fashioned Scotch, was always used for a coarse earthenware

jar or vessel. In the Life of the late Patrick Tytler, the amiable and

gifted historian of Scotland, there occurs an amusing exemplification of

the utter confusion of ideas caused by the use of Scottish phraseology.

The family, when they went to London, had taken with them an old

Scottish servant who had no notion of any terms beside her own. She came

in one day greatly disturbed at the extremely backward state of

knowledge of domestic affairs amongst the Londoners. She had been to so

many shops and could not get "a great broon pig to haud the butter in."

From a relative of the family I have received an account of a still

worse confusion of ideas, caused by the inquiry of a Mrs. Chisholm of

Chisholm, who died in London in 1825, at an advanced age. She had come

from the country to be with her daughter, and was a genuine Scottish

lady of the old school. She wished to purchase a table-cloth of a cheque

pattern, like the squares of a chess or draught board. Now a

draught-board used to be called (as I remember) by old Scotch people a

"dam[61] brod[62]." Accordingly, Mrs. Chisholm entered the shop of a

linen-draper, and asked to be shown table-linen a _dam-brod pattern_.

The shopman, although, taken aback by a request, as he considered it,

so strongly worded, by a respectable old lady, brought down what he

assured her was the largest and widest made. No; that would not do. She

repeated her wish for a dam-brod pattern, and left the shop surprised at

the stupidity of the London shopman not having the pattern she

asked for.

_Silly_ has in genuine old Scottish use reference to weakness of body

only, and not of mind. Before knowing the use of the word, I remember

being much astonished at a farmer of the Mearns telling me of the

strongest-minded man in the county that he was "uncommon silly," not

insinuating any decline of mental vigour, but only meaning that his

bodily strength was giving way.

_Frail_, in like manner, expresses infirmity of body, and implies no

charge of any laxity in moral principle; yet I have seen English persons

looking with considerable consternation when an old-fashioned Scottish

lady, speaking of a young and graceful female, lamented her being

so _frail_.

_Fail_ is another instance of different use of words. In Scotland it

used to be quite common to say of a person whose health and strength had

declined, that he had _failed_. To say this of a person connected with

mercantile business has a very serious effect upon southern ears, as

implying nothing short of bankruptcy and ruin. I recollect many years

ago at Monmouth, my dear mother creating much consternation in the mind

of the mayor, by saying of a worthy man, the principal banker in the

town, whom they both concurred in praising, that she was "sorry to find

he _was failing_."

_Honest_ has in Scotch a peculiar application, irrespective of any

integrity of moral character. It is a kindly mode of referring to an

individual, as we would say to a stranger, "Honest man, would you tell

me the way to ----?" or as Lord Hermand, when about to sentence a woman

for stealing, began remonstratively, "Honest woman, whatever garr'd ye

steal your neighbour's tub?"

_Superstitious_: A correspondent informs me that in some parts of

Mid-Lothian the people constantly use the word "superstitious" for

"bigoted;" thus, speaking of a very keen Free Church person, they will

say, "He is awfu' supperstitious."

_Kail_ in England simply expresses cabbage, but in Scotland represents

the chief meal of the day. Hence the old-fashioned easy way of asking a

friend to dinner was to ask him if he would take his kail with the

family. In the same usage of the word, the Scottish proverb expresses

distress and trouble in a person's affairs, by saying that "he has got

his kail through the reek." In like manner haddock, in Kincardineshire

and Aberdeenshire, used to express the same idea, as the expression is,

"Will ye tak your haddock wi' us the day?" that fish being so plentiful

and so excellent that it was a standing dish. There is this difference,

however, in the local usage, that to say in Aberdeen, Will you take your

haddock? implies an invitation to dinner; whilst in Montrose the same

expression means an invitation to _supper_. Differences of pronunciation

also caused great confusion and misunderstanding. Novels used to be

pronounced no_vels_; envy en_vy_; a cloak was a clock, to the surprise

of an English lady, to whom the maid said, on her leaving the house,

"Mem, winna ye tak the _clock_ wi' ye?"

The names of children's diseases were a remarkable item in the catalogue

of Scottish words:--Thus, in 1775, Mrs. Betty Muirheid kept a

boarding-school for young ladies in the Trongate of Glasgow, near the

Tron steeple. A girl on her arrival was asked whether she had had

smallpox. "Yes, mem, I've had the sma'pox, the nirls[63], the blabs[64],

the scaw[65], the kinkhost[66], and the fever, the branks[67] and the

worm[68]."

There is indeed a case of Scottish pronunciation which adds to the force

and copiousness of our language, by discriminating four words, which,

according to English speaking, are undistinguishable in mere

pronunciation. The words are--wright (a carpenter), to write (with a

pen), right (the reverse of wrong), rite (a ceremony). The four are,

however, distinguished in old-fashioned Scotch pronunciation thus--1,

He's a wiricht; 2, to wireete; 3, richt; 4, rite.

I can remember a peculiar Scottish phrase very commonly used, which now

seems to have passed away. I mean the expression "to let on," indicating

the notice or observation of something, or of some person.--For example,

"I saw Mr. ---- at the meeting, but I never let on that I knew he was

present." A form of expression which has been a great favourite in

Scotland in my recollection has much gone out of practice--I mean the

frequent use of diminutives, generally adopted either as terms of

endearment or of contempt. Thus it was very common to speak of a person

whom you meant rather to undervalue, as a _mannie_, a _boddie_, a _bit

boddie_, or a _wee bit mannie_. The Bailie in Rob Roy, when he intended

to represent his party as persons of no importance, used the expression,

"We are bits o' Glasgow bodies."

An admirable Scotch expression I recollect from one of the Montrose

ladies before referred to. Her niece was asking a great many questions

on some point concerning which her aunt had been giving her

information, and coming over and over the ground, demanding an

explanation how this had happened, and why something else was so and so.

The old lady lost her patience, and at last burst forth: "I winna be

_back-speired_ noo, Pally Fullerton." Back-speired! how much more pithy

and expressive than cross-examined! "He's not a man to ride the water

on," expresses your want of confidence and of trust in the character

referred to. Another capital expression to mark that a person has stated

a point rather under than over the truth, is, "The less I lee," as in

Guy Mannering, where the precentor exclaims to Mrs. MacCandlish, "Aweel,

gudewife, then the less I lee." We have found it a very amusing task

collecting together a number of these phrases, and forming them into a

connected epistolary composition. We may imagine the sort of puzzle it

would be to a young person of the present day--one of what we may call

the new school. We will suppose an English young lady, or an English

educated young lady, lately married, receiving such a letter as the

following from the Scottish aunt of her husband. We may suppose it to be

written by a very old lady, who, for the last fifty years has not moved

from home, and has changed nothing of her early days. I can safely

affirm that every word of it I have either seen written in a letter, or

have heard in ordinary conversation:--

"_Montrose_, 1858[69].

"My Dear Niece--I am real glad to find my _nevy_ has made so

good a choice as to have secured you for his wife; and I am

sure this step will add much to his comfort, and we _behove_

to rejoice at it. He will now look forward to his evening at

home, and you will be happy when you find you never _want_

him. It will be a great pleasure when you hear him in the

_trance_, and wipe his feet upon the _bass_. But Willy is not

strong, and you must look well after him. I hope you do not

let him _snuff_ so much as he did. He had a sister, poor

thing, who died early. She was remarkably clever, and well

read, and most intelligent, but was always uncommonly

_silly_[70] In the autumn of '40 she had a _sair host_, and

was aye _speaking through a cold_, and at dinner never did

more than to _sup a few family broth_. I am afraid she did

not _change her feet_ when she came in from the wet one

evening. I never _let on_ that I observed anything to be

wrong; but I remember asking her to come and _sit upon_ the

fire. But she went out, and did not _take_ the door with her.

She lingered till next spring, when she had a great

_income_[71], and her parents were then too poor to take her

south, and she died. I hope you will like the lassie Eppie we

have sent you. She is a _discreet_ girl, and comes of a

decent family. She has a sister _married upon_ a Seceding

minister at Kirkcaldy. But I hear he expects to be

_transported_ soon. She was brought up in one of the

_hospitals_ here. Her father had been a _souter_ and a _pawky

chiel_ enough, but was _doited_ for many years, and her

mother was _sair dottled_. We have been greatly interested in

the hospital where Eppie was _educate_, and intended getting

up a bazaar for it, and would have asked you to help us, as

we were most anxious to raise some additional funds, when one

of the Bailies died and left it _feuing-stances_ to the

amount of 5000 pounds, which was really a great

_mortification_. I am not a good _hand of write_, and

therefore shall stop. I am very tired, and have been

_gantin_[72] for this half-hour, and even in correspondence

gantin' may be _smittin'_[73]. The _kitchen_[74] is just

coming in, and I _feel_ a _smell of tea_, so when I get my

_four hours,_ that will refresh me and set me up again.--I

am, your affectionate aunt, ISABEL DINGWALL."

This letter, then, we suppose written by a very old Forfarshire lady to

her niece in England, and perhaps the young lady who received it might

answer it in a style as strange to her aunt as her aunt's is to her,

especially if she belonged to that lively class of our young female

friends who indulge a little in phraseology which they have imbibed from

their brothers, or male cousins, who have, perhaps for their amusement,

encouraged them in its use. The answer, then, might be something like

this; and without meaning to be severe or satirical upon our young lady

friends, I may truly say that, though I never heard from one young lady

_all_ these fast terms, I have heard the most of them separately

from many:--

"My Dear Aunty--Many thanks for your kind letter and its

enclosure. From my not knowing Scotch, I am not quite up to

the mark, and some of the expressions I don't _twig_ at all.

Willie is absent for a few days, but when he returns home he

will explain it; he is quite _awake_ on all such things. I am

glad you are pleased that Willie and I are now _spliced_. I

am well aware that you will hear me spoken of in some

quarters as a _fast_ young lady. A man here had the impudence

to say that when he visited my husband's friends he would

tell them so. I quietly and civilly replied, 'You be blowed!'

So don't believe him. We get on famously at present. Willie

comes home from the office every afternoon at five. We

generally take a walk before dinner, and read and work if we

don't go out; and I assure you we are very _jolly_. We don't

know many people here yet. It is rather a _swell_

neighbourhood; and if we can't get in with the _nobs_, depend

upon it we will never take up with any society that is

decidedly _snobby. I_ daresay the girl you are sending will

be very useful to us; our present one is an awful _slow

coach_. In fact, the sending her to us was a regular _do_.

But we hope some day to sport _buttons_. My father and mother

paid us a visit last week. The _governor_ is well, and,

notwithstanding years and infirmities, comes out quite a

_jolly old cove_. He is, indeed, if you will pardon the

partiality of a daughter, a regular _brick_. He says he will

help us if we can't get on, and I make no doubt will in due

time _fork out the tin_. I am busy working a cap for you,

dear aunty; it is from a pretty German pattern, and I think

when finished will be quite a _stunner_. There is a shop in

Regent Street where I hire patterns, and can get six of them

for five _bob_. I then return them without buying them, which

I think a capital _dodge_. I hope you will sport it for my

sake at your first _tea and turn out_.

"I have nothing more to say particular, but am always

"Your affectionate niece,

"ELIZA DINGWALL."

"_P.S._--I am trying to break Willie off his horrid habit of

taking snuff. I had rather see him take his cigar when we are

walking. You will be told, I daresay, that I sometimes take a

_weed_ myself. It is not true, dear aunty."

Before leaving the question of change in Scottish expressions, it may

be proper to add a few words on the subject of Scottish

_dialects_--_i.e._, on the differences which exist in different counties

or localities in the Scottish tongue itself. These differences used to

be as marked as different languages; of course they still exist amongst

the peasantry as before. The change consists in their gradual vanishing

from the conversation of the educated and refined. The dialects with

which I am most conversant are the two which present the greatest

contrast, viz. the Angus and the Aberdeen, or the slow and broad

Scotch--the quick and sharp Scotch. Whilst the one talks of "Buuts and

shoon," the other calls the same articles "beets and sheen." With the

Aberdonian "what" is always "fat" or "fatten;" "music" is "meesic;"

"brutes" are "breets;" "What are ye duin'?" of southern Scotch, in

Aberdeen would be "Fat are ye deein'?" Fergusson, nearly a century ago,

noted this peculiarity of dialect in his poem of The Leith Races:--

"The Buchan bodies through the beach,

Their bunch of Findrams cry;

And skirl out bauld in Norland speech,

Gude speldans _fa_ will buy?"

"Findon," or "Finnan haddies," are split, smoked, and partially dried

haddocks. Fergusson, in using the word "_Findrams"_, which is not found

in our glossaries, has been thought to be in error, but his accuracy has

been verified singularly enough, within the last few days, by a worthy

octogenarian Newhaven fisherman, bearing the characteristic name of

Flucker, who remarked "that it was a word commonly used in his youth;

and, above all," he added, "when Leith Races were held on the sands, he

was like to be deeved wi' the lang-tongued hizzies skirling out, '_Aell

a Findram Speldrains_,' and they jist ca'ed it that to get a better grip

o't wi' their tongues."

In Galloway, in 1684, Symson, afterwards an ousted Episcopalian minister

(of Kirkinner), notes some peculiarities in the speech of the people in

that district. "Some of the countrey people, especially those of the

elder sort, do very often omit the letter 'h' after 't' as ting for

thing; tree for three; tatch for thatch; wit for with; fait for faith;

mout for mouth, etc.; and also, contrary to some north countrey people,

they oftentimes pronounce 'w' for 'v,' as serwant for servant; and so

they call the months of February, March, and April, the _ware_ quarter,

from _ver_[75]. Hence their common proverb, speaking of the storms in

February, '_winter never comes till ware comes_.'" These peculiarities

of language have almost disappeared--the immense influx of Irish

emigrants during late years has exercised a perceptible influence over

the dialect of Wigtonshire.

When a southerner mentioned the death of a friend to a lady of the

granite city, she asked, "Fat dee'd he o'?" which being utterly

incomprehensible to the person asked, another Aberdonian lady kindly

explained the question, and put it into language which she supposed

_could_ not be mistaken, as thus, "Fat did he dee o'?" If there was this

difference between the Aberdeen and the Forfar dialect, how much greater

must be that difference when contrasted with the _ore rotundo_ language

of an English southern dignitary. Such a one being present at a school

examination in Aberdeen wished to put some questions on Scripture

history himself, and asked an intelligent boy, "What was the ultimate

fate of Pharaoh?" This the boy not understanding, the master put the

same question Aberdonicé, "Jemmy, fat was the hinner end o' Pharaoh?"

which called forth the ready reply, "He was drouned i' the Red Sea." A

Forfarshire parent, dissatisfied with his son's English pronunciation,

remonstrated with him, "What for div' ye say _why_? why canna ye say

'what for'?"

The power of Scottish phraseology, or rather of Scottish _language_,

could not be better displayed than in the following Aberdonian

description of London theatricals:--Mr. Taylor, at one time well known

in London as having the management of the opera-house, had his father up

from Aberdeen to visit him and see the wonders of the capital. When the

old man returned home, his friends, anxious to know the impressions

produced on his mind by scenes and characters so different from what he

had been accustomed to at home, inquired what sort of business his son

carried on? "Ou," said he (in reference to the operatic singers and the

corps de ballet), "he just keeps a curn[76] o' quainies[77] and a wheen

widdyfous[78], and gars them fissle[79], and loup, and mak murgeons[80],

to please the great fowk."

Another ludicrous interrogatory occurred regarding the death of a Mr.

Thomas Thomson. It appeared there were two cousins of this name, both

corpulent men. When it was announced that Mr. Thomas Thomson was dead,

an Aberdeen friend of the family asked, "Fatten Thamas Thamson?" He was

informed that it was a fat Thamas Thamson, upon which the Aberdeen query

naturally arose, "Ay, but fatten fat Thamas Thamson?" Another

illustration of the Aberdeen dialect is thus given:--"The Pope o' Rome

requires a bull to do his wark, but the Emperor o' France made a coo

dee't a'"--a cow do it all--a pun on _coup d'état_. A young lady from

Aberdeen had been on a visit to Montrose, and was disappointed at

finding there a great lack of beaux, and balls, and concerts. This lack

was not made up to her by the invitations which she had received to

dinner parties. And she thus expressed her feelings on the subject in

her native dialect, when asked how she liked Montrose: "Indeed there's

neither men nor meesic, and fat care I for meat?" There is no male

society and no concerts, and what do I care for dinners? The dialect and

the local feelings of Aberdeen were said to have produced some amusement

in London, as displayed by the lady of the Provost of Aberdeen when

accompanying her husband going up officially to the capital. Some

persons to whom she had been introduced recommended her going to the

opera as one of the sights worthy the attention of a stranger. The good

lady, full of the greatness of her situation as wife of the provost, and

knowing the sensation her appearance in public occasioned when in her

own city, and supposing that a little excitement would accompany her

with the London public, rather declined, under the modest plea, "Fat for

should I gang to the opera, just to creat a confeesion?" An aunt of

mine, who knew Aberdeen well, used to tell a traditionary story of two

Aberdonian ladies, who by their insinuations against each other, finely

illustrated the force of the dialect then in common use. They had both

of them been very attentive to a sick lady in declining health, and on

her death each had felt a distrust of the perfect disinterestedness of

the other's attention. This created more than a coolness between them,

and the bad feeling came out on their passing in the street. The one

insinuated her suspicions of unfair dealing with the property of the

deceased by ejaculating, as the other passed her, "Henny pig[81] and

green tea," to which the other retorted, in the same spirit, "Silk coat

and negligee[82]." Aberdonian pronunciation produced on one occasion a

curious equivoque between the minister and a mother of a family with

whom he was conversing in a pastoral way. The minister had said, "Weel,

Margaret, I hope you're thoroughly ashamed of your _sins_" Now, in

Aberdeenshire _sons_ are pronounced sins; accordingly, to the minister's

surprise, Margaret burst forth, "Ashamed o' ma sins! na, na, I'm proud

o' ma sins. Indeed, gin it werena for thae cutties o' dauchters, I

should be _ower_ proud o' ma sins."

Any of my readers who are not much conversant with Aberdeen dialect will

find the following a good specimen:--A lady who resided in Aberdeen,

being on a visit to some friends in the country, joined an excursion on

horseback. Not being much of an equestrian, she was mounted upon a

Highland pony as being the _canniest baste_. He, however, had a trick of

standing still in crossing a stream. A burn had to be crossed--the rest

of the party passed on, while "Paddy" remained, pretending to drink.

Miss More, in great desperation, called out to one of her

friends--"Bell, 'oman, turn back an gie me your bit fuppie, for the

breet's stannin' i' the peel wi' ma."

A rich specimen of Aberdeen dialect, under peculiar circumstances, was

supplied by an Aberdonian lady who had risen in the world from selling

fruit at a stall to be the wife of the Lord Provost. Driving along in

her own carriage, she ordered it to stop, and called to her a poor

woman whom she saw following her old occupation. After some colloquy,

she dismissed her very coolly, remarking, "'Deed, freet's dear sin' I

sauld freet in streets o' Aberdeen." This anecdote of reference to a

good lady's more humble occupation than riding in her carriage may

introduce a somewhat analogous anecdote, in which a more distinguished

personage than the wife of the Provost of Aberdeen takes a prominent

part. The present Archbishop of Canterbury tells the story himself, with

that admixture of humour and of true dignity by which his Grace's manner

is so happily distinguished. The Archbishop's father in early life lived

much at Dollar, where, I believe, he had some legal and official

appointment. His sons, the Archbishop and his brother, attended the

grammar school, rather celebrated in the country; they ran about and

played like other lads, and were known as schoolboys to the peasantry.

In after days, when the Archbishop had arrived at his present place of

dignity as Primate of all England, he was attending a great confirmation

service at Croydon--the churchwardens, clergy, mayors, etc., of the

place in attendance upon the Archbishop, and a great congregation of

spectators. On going up the centre of the church, a Dollar man, who had

got into the crowd in a side aisle, said, loud enough for the Archbishop

to hear, "There wasna muckle o' this at Dollar, my Lord."

I have not had leisure to pursue, as I had intended, a further

consideration of SCOTTISH DIALECT, and their differences from each other

in the north, south, east, and west of Scotland. I merely remark now,

that the dialect of one district is considered quite barbarous, and

laughed at by the inhabitants of another district where a different form

of language is adopted. I have spoken of the essential difference

between Aberdeen and Southern Scotch. An English gentleman had been

visiting the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, and accompanied him to Aberdeen.

His lordship of Edinburgh introduced his English friend to the Provost

of Aberdeen, and they both attended a great dinner given by the latter.

After grace had been said, the Provost kindly and hospitably addressed

the company, Aberdonice--"Now, gentlemen, fah tee, fah tee." The

Englishman whispered to his friend, and asked what was meant by "fah

tee, fah tee;" to which his lordship replied--"Hout, he canna speak; he

means fau too, fau too." Thus one Scotticism was held in terror by those

who used a different Scotticism: as at Inverary, the wife of the chief

writer of the place, seeking to secure her guest from the taint of

inferior society, intimated to him, but somewhat confidentially, that

Mrs. W. (the rival writer's wife) was quite a vulgar body, so much so as

to ask any one leaving the room to "_snib_ the door," instead of bidding

them, as she triumphantly observed, "_sneck_ the door."

Now, to every one who follows these anecdotes of a past time, it must be

obvious how much peculiarities of Scottish wit and humour depend upon

the language in which they are clothed. As I have before remarked, much

of the point depends upon the _broad Scotch_ with which they are

accompanied. As a type and representative of that phraseology, we would

specially recommend a study of our Scottish proverbs. In fact, in

Scottish proverbs will be found an epitome of the Scottish phraseology,

which is peculiar and characteristic. I think it quite clear that there

are proverbs exclusively Scottish, and as we find embodied in them

traits of Scottish character, and many peculiar forms of Scottish

thought and Scottish language, sayings of this kind, once so familiar,

should have a place in our Scottish Reminiscences. Proverbs are

literally, in many instances, becoming _reminiscences_. They now seem to

belong to that older generation whom we recollect, and who used them in

conversation freely and constantly. To strengthen an argument or

illustrate a remark by a proverb was then a common practice in

conversation. Their use, however, is now considered vulgar, and their

formal application is almost prohibited by the rules of polite society.

Lord Chesterfield denounced the practice of quoting proverbs as a

palpable violation of all polite refinement in conversation.

Notwithstanding all this, we acknowledge having much pleasure in

recalling our national proverbial expressions. They are full of

character, and we find amongst them important truths, expressed

forcibly, wisely, and gracefully. The expression of Bacon has often been

quoted--"The genius, wit, and wisdom of a nation, are discovered by

their proverbs."

All nations have their proverbs, and a vast number of books have been

written on the subject. We find, accordingly, that collections have been

made of proverbs considered as belonging peculiarly to Scotland. The

collections to which I have had access are the following:--

1. The fifth edition, by Balfour, of "Ray's Complete Collection of

English Proverbs," in which is a separate collection of those which are

considered Scottish Proverbs--1813. Ray professes to have taken these

from Fergusson's work mentioned below.

2. A Complete Collection of Scottish Proverbs, explained and made

intelligible to the English reader, by James Kelly, M.A., published in

London 1721.

3. Scottish Proverbs gathered together by David Fergusson, sometime

minister at Dunfermline, and put _ordine alphabetico_ when he departed

this life anno 1598. Edinburgh, 1641.

4. A collection of Scots Proverbs, dedicated to the Tenantry of

Scotland, by Allan Ramsay. This collection is found in the edition of

his Poetical Works, 3 vols. post 8vo, Edin. 1818, but is not in the

handsome edition of 1800. London, 2 vols. 8vo.

5. Scottish Proverbs, collected and arranged by Andrew Henderson, with

an introductory Essay by W. Motherwell. Edin. 1832.

6. The Proverbial Philosophy of Scotland, an address to the School of

Arts, by William Stirling of Keir, M.P. Stirling and Edin. 1855.

The collection of Ray, the great English naturalist, is well known. The

first two editions, published at Cambridge in 1670 and 1678, were by the

author; subsequent editions were by other editors.

The work by James Kelly professes to collect Scottish proverbs only. It

is a volume of nearly 400 pages, and contains a short explanation or

commentary attached to each, and often parallel sayings from other

languages[83]. Mr. Kelly bears ample testimony to the extraordinary free

use made of proverbs in his time by his countrymen and by himself. He

says that "there were current in society upwards of 3000 proverbs,

exclusively Scottish." He adds, "The Scots are wonderfully given to this

way of speaking, and, as the consequence of that, abound with proverbs,

many of which are very expressive, quick, and home to the purpose; and,

indeed, this humour prevails universally over the whole nation,

especially among the better sort of the commonalty, none of whom will

discourse with you any considerable time but he will affirm every

assertion and observation with a Scottish proverb. To that nation I owe

my birth and education; and to that manner of speaking I was used from

my infancy, to such a degree that I became in some measure remarkable

for it." This was written in 1721, and we may see from Mr. Kelly's

account what a change has taken place in society as regards this mode of

intercourse. Our author states that he has "omitted in his collection

many popular proverbs which are very pat and expressive," and adds as

his reason, that "since it does not become a man of manners to use them,

it does not become a man of my age and profession to write them." What

was Mr. Kelly's profession or what his age does not appear from any

statements in this volume; but, judging by many proverbs which he has

_retained_, those which consideration of years and of profession induced

him to omit must have been bad indeed, and unbecoming for _any_ age or

_any_ profession[84]. The third collection by Mr. Fergusson is mentioned

by Kelly as the only one which had been made before his time, and that

he had not met with it till he had made considerable progress in his own

collection. The book is now extremely rare, and fetches a high price. By

the great kindness of the learned librarian, I have been permitted to

see the copy belonging to the library of the Writers to the Signet. It

is the first edition, and very rare. A quaint little thin volume, such

as delights the eyes of true bibliomaniacs, unpaged, and published at

Edinburgh 1641--although on the title-page the proverbs are said to have

been collected at Mr. Fergusson's death, 1598[85]. There is no preface

or notice by the author, but an address from the printer, "to the

merrie, judicious, and discreet reader."

The proverbs, amounting to 945, are given without any comment or

explanation. Many of them are of a very antique cast of language; indeed

some would be to most persons quite unintelligible without a lexicon.

The printer, in his address "to the merrie, judicious, and discreet

reader," refers in the following quaint expressions to the

author:--"Therefore manie in this realme that hath hard of David

Fergusson, sometime minister at Dunfermline, and of his quick answers

and speeches, both to great persons and others inferiours, and hath hard

of his proverbs which hee gathered together in his time, and now we put

downe according to the order of the alphabet; and manie, of all ranks of

persons, being verie desirous to have the said proverbs, I have thought

good to put them to the presse for thy better satisfaction.... I know

that there may be some that will say and marvell that a minister should

have taken pains to gather such proverbs together; but they that knew

his forme of powerfull preaching the word, and his ordinar talking, ever

almost using proverbiall speeches, will not finde fault with this that

he hath done. And whereas there are some old Scottish words not in use

now, bear with that, because if ye alter those words, the proverb will

have no grace; and so, recommending these proverbs to thy good use, I

bid thee farewell."

I now subjoin a few of Fergusson's Proverbs, verbatim, which are of a

more obsolete character, and have appended explanations, of the

correctness of which, however, I am not quite confident:--

_A year a nurish[86], seven year a da[87]_. Refers, I presume, to

fulfilling the maternal office.

_Anes payit never cravit_. Debts once paid give no more trouble.

_All wald[88] have all, all wald forgie[89]_. Those who exact much

should be ready to concede.

_A gangang[90] fit[91] is aye[92] gettin (gin[93] it were but a thorn),_

or, as it sometimes runs, _gin it were but a broken tae, i.e. toe_. A

man of industry will certainly get a living; though the proverb is often

applied to those who went abroad and got a mischief when they might

safely have stayed at home--(Kelly).

_All crakes[94], all bears[95]_. Spoken against bullies who kept a great

hectoring, and yet, when put to it, tamely pocket an affront--(Kelly).

_Bourd[96] not wi' bawtie[97] (lest he bite you_). Do not jest too

familiarly with your superiors (Kelly), or with dangerous characters.

_Bread's house skailed never[98]_ While people have bread they need not

give up housekeeping. Spoken when one has bread and wishes something

better--(Kelly).

_Crabbit[99] was and cause had_. Spoken ironically of persons put out of

temper without adequate cause.

_Dame, deem[100] warily, (ye watna[101] wha wytes[102]

yersell_).--Spoken to remind those who pass hard censures on others

that they may themselves be censured.

_Efter lang mint[103] never dint[104]_. Spoken of long and painful

labour producing little effect. Kelly's reading is "_Lang mint little

dint_." Spoken when men threaten much and dare not execute--(Kelly).

_Fill fou[105] and hand[106] fou maks a stark[107] man_. In Border

language a _stark_ man was one who takes and keeps boldly.

_He that crabbs[108] without cause should mease[109] without

mends[110]_. Spoken to remind those who are angry without cause, that

they should not be particular in requiring apologies from others.

_He is worth na weill that may not bide na wae_. He deserves not the

sweet that will not taste the sour. He does not deserve prosperity who

cannot meet adversity.

_Kame[111] sindle[112] kame sair_[113]. Applied to those who forbear for

a while, but when once roused can act with severity.

_Kamesters[114] are aye creeshie[115]_. It is usual for men to look like

their trade.

_Let alane maks mony lurden_[116]. Want of correction makes many a bad

boy--(Kelly).

_Mony tynes[117] the half-mark[118] whinger[119] (for the halfe pennie

whang_)[120]. Another version of penny wise and pound foolish.

_Na plie[121] is best_.

_Reavers[122] should not be rewers_[123]. Those who are so fond of a

thing as to snap at it, should not repent when they have got

it--(Kelly).

_Sok and seill is best_. The interpretation of this proverb is not

obvious, and later writers do not appear to have adopted it from

Fergusson. It is quite clear that sok or sock is the ploughshare. Seil

is happiness, as in Kelly. "Seil comes not till sorrow be o'er;" and in

Aberdeen they say, "Seil o' your face," to express a blessing. My

reading is "the plough and happiness the best lot." The happiest life is

the healthy country one. See Robert Burns' spirited song with

the chorus:

"Up wi' my ploughman lad,

And hey my merry ploughman;

Of a' the trades that I do ken,

Commend me to the ploughman."

A somewhat different reading of this very obscure and now indeed

obsolete proverb has been suggested by an esteemed and learned

friend:--"I should say rather it meant that the ploughshare, or country

life, accompanied with good luck or fortune was best; _i.e.,_ that

industry coupled with good fortune (good seasons and the like) was the

combination that was most to be desired. _Soel_, in Anglo-Saxon, as a

noun, means _opportunity_, and then good luck, happiness, etc."

_There's mae[124] madines[125] nor makines_[126]. Girls are more

plentiful in the world than hares.

_Ye bried[127] of the gouk[128], ye have not a rhyme[129] but ane_.

Applied to persons who tire everybody by constantly harping on

one subject.

The collection by Allan Ramsay is very good, and professes to correct

the errors of former collectors. I have now before me the _first

edition_, Edinburgh, 1737, with the appropriate motto on the title-page,

"That maun be true that a' men say." This edition contains proverbs

only, the number being 2464. Some proverbs in this collection I do not

find in others, and one quality it possesses in a remarkable degree--it

is very Scotch. The language of the proverbial wisdom has the true

Scottish flavour; not only is this the case with the proverbs

themselves, but the dedication to the tenantry of Scotland, prefixed to

the collection, is written in pure Scottish dialect. From this

dedication I make an extract, which falls in with our plan of recording

Scotch reminiscences, as Allan Ramsay there states the great value set

upon proverbs in his day, and the great importance which he attaches to

them as teachers of moral wisdom, and as combining amusement with

instruction. The prose of Allan Ramsay has, too, a spice of his poetry

in its composition. His dedication is, To the tenantry of Scotland,

farmers of the dales, and storemasters of the hills--

"Worthy friends--The following hoard of wise sayings and observations of

our forefathers, which have been gathering through mony bygane ages, I

have collected with great care, and restored to their proper sense....

"As naething helps our happiness mair than to have the mind made up wi'

right principles, I desire you, for the thriving and pleasure of you and

yours, to use your een and lend your lugs to these guid _auld saws_,

that shine wi' wail'd sense, and will as lang as the world wags. Gar

your bairns get them by heart; let them have a place among your

family-books, and may never a window-sole through the country be without

them. On a spare hour, when the day is clear, behind a ruck, or on the

green howm, draw the treasure frae your pouch, an' enjoy the pleasant

companion. Ye happy herds, while your hirdsell are feeding on the

flowery braes, you may eithly make yoursells master of the haleware. How

usefou' will it prove to you (wha hae sae few opportunities of common

clattering) when ye forgather wi' your friends at kirk or market,

banquet or bridal! By your proficiency you'll be able, in the proverbial

way, to keep up the saul of a conversation that is baith blyth

an usefou'."

Mr. Henderson's work is a compilation from those already mentioned. It

is very copious, and the introductory essay contains some excellent

remarks upon the wisdom and wit of Scottish proverbial sayings.

Mr. Stirling's (now Sir W. Stirling-Maxwell's) address, like everything

he writes, indicates a minute and profound knowledge of his subject, and

is full of picturesque and just views of human nature. He attaches much

importance to the teaching conveyed in proverbial expressions, and

recommends his readers even still to collect such proverbial expressions

as may yet linger in conversation, because, as he observes, "If it is

not yet registered, it is possible that it might have died with the

tongue from which you took it, and so have been lost for ever." "I

believe," he adds, "the number of good old saws still floating as waifs

and strays on the tide of popular talk to be much greater than might at

first appear."

One remark is applicable to all these collections--viz., that out of so

large a number there are many of them on which we have little grounds

for deciding that they are _exclusively_ Scottish. In fact, some are

mere translations of proverbs adopted by many nations; some of universal

adoption. Thus we have--

_A burnt bairn fire dreads.

Ae swallow makes nae simmer.

Faint heart ne'er wan fair lady.

Ill weeds wax weel.

Mony sma's mak a muckle.

O' twa ills chuse the least.

Set a knave to grip a knave.

Twa wits are better than ane.

There's nae fule like an auld fule.

Ye canna mak a silk purse o' a sow's lug.

Ae bird i' the hand is worth twa fleeing.

Mony cooks ne'er made gude kail_.

Of numerous proverbs such as these, some may or may not be original in

the Scottish. Sir William remarks that many of the best and oldest

proverbs may be common to all people--may have occurred to all. In our

national collections, therefore, some of the proverbs recorded may be

simply translations into Scotch of what have been long considered the

property of other nations. Still, I hope it is not a mere national

partiality to say that many of the common proverbs _gain_ much by such

translation from other tongues. All that I would attempt now is, to

select some of our more popular proverbial sayings, which many of us can

remember as current amongst us, and were much used by the late

generation in society, and to add a few from the collections I have

named, which bear a very decided Scottish stamp either in turn of

thought or in turn of language.

I remember being much struck the first time I heard the application of

that pretty Scottish saying regarding a fair bride. I was walking in

Montrose, a day or two before her marriage, with a young lady, a

connection of mine, who merited this description, when she was kindly

accosted by an old friend, an honest fish-wife of the town, "Weel, Miss

Elizabeth, hae ye gotten a' yer claes ready?" to which the young lady

modestly answered, "Oh, Janet, my claes are soon got ready;" and Janet

replied, in the old Scotch proverb, "Ay, weel, _a bonnie bride's sune

buskit_[130]." In the old collection, an addition less sentimental is

made to this proverb, _A short horse is sune wispit_[131].

To encourage strenuous exertions to meet difficult circumstances, is

well expressed by _Setting a stout heart to a stey brae_.

The mode of expressing that the worth of a handsome woman outweighs even

her beauty, has a very Scottish character--_She's better than she's

bonnie_. The opposite of this was expressed by a Highlander of his own

wife, when he somewhat ungrammatically said of her, "_She's bonnier than

she's better_."

The frequent evil to harvest operations from autumnal rains and fogs in

Scotland is well told in the saying, _A dry summer ne'er made a

dear peck_.

There can be no question as to country in the following, which seems to

express generally that persons may have the name and appearance of

greatness without the reality--_A' Stuarts are na sib[132] to the king_.

There is an excellent Scottish version of the common proverb, "He that's

born to be hanged will never be drowned."--_The water will never

warr[133], the widdie, i.e._ never cheat the gallows. This saying

received a very naive practical application during the anxiety and

alarm of a storm. One of the passengers, a good simple-minded minister,

was sharing the alarm that was felt around him, until spying one of his

parishioners, of whose ignominious end he had long felt persuaded, he

exclaimed to himself, "Oh, we are all safe now," and accordingly

accosted the poor man with strong assurances of the great pleasure he

had in seeing him on board.

_It's ill getting the breeks aff the Highlandman_ is a proverb that

savours very strong of a Lowland Scotch origin. Having suffered loss at

the hands of their neighbours from the hills, this was a mode of

expressing the painful truth that there was little hope of obtaining

redress from those who had no _means_ at their disposal.

Proverbs connected with the bagpipes I set down as legitimate Scotch, as

thus--_Ye are as lang in tuning your pipes as anither wad play a

spring_[134]. You are as long of setting about a thing as another would

be in doing it.

There is a set of Scottish proverbs which we may group together as

containing one quality in common, and that in reference to the Evil

Spirit, and to his agency in the world. This is a reference often, I

fear, too lightly made; but I am not conscious of anything deliberately

profane or irreverent in the following:--

_The deil's nae sae ill as he's caa'd_. The most of people may be found

to have some redeeming good point: applied in _Guy Mannering_ by the

Deacon to Gilbert Glossin, upon his intimating his intention to come to

his shop soon for the purpose of laying in his winter stock of

groceries.

To the same effect, _It's a sin to lee on the deil_. Even of the worst

people, _truth_ at least should be spoken.

_He should hae a lang-shafted spune that sups kail wi' the deil._ He

should be well guarded and well protected that has to do with cunning

and unprincipled men.

_Lang ere the deil dee by the dyke-side._ Spoken when the improbable

death of some powerful and ill-disposed person is talked of.

_Let ae deil ding anither_. Spoken when too bad persons are at variance

over some evil work.

_The deil's bairns hae deil's luck_. Spoken enviously when ill people

prosper.

_The deil's a busy bishop in his ain diocie_. Bad men are sure to be

active in promoting their own bad ends. A quaint proverb of this class I

have been told of as coming from the reminiscences of an old lady of

quality, to recommend a courteous manner to every one: _It's aye gude to

be ceevil, as the auld wife said when she beckit[135] to the deevil_.

_Raise nae mair deils than ye are able to lay_. Provoke no strifes which

ye may be unable to appease.

_The deil's aye gude to his ain_. A malicious proverb, spoken as if

those whom we disparage were deriving their success from bad causes.

_Ye wad do little for God an the deevil was dead_. A sarcastic mode of

telling a person that fear, rather than love or principle, is the motive

to his good conduct.

In the old collection already referred to is a proverb which, although

somewhat _personal_, is too good to omit. It is doubtful how it took its

origin, whether as a satire against the decanal order in general, or

against some obnoxious dean in particular. These are the terms of it:

_The deil an' the dean begin wi' ae letter. When the deil has the dean

the kirk will be the better._

_The deil's gane ower Jock Wabster_ is a saying which I have been

accustomed to in my part of the country from early years. It expresses

generally misfortune or confusion, but I am not quite sure of the

_exact_ meaning, or who is represented by "Jock Wabster." It was a great

favourite with Sir Walter Scott, who quotes it twice in _Rob Roy_. Allan

Ramsay introduces it in the _Gentle Shepherd_ to express the misery of

married life when the first dream of love has passed away:--

"The 'Deil gaes ower Jock Wabster,' hame grows hell,

When Pate misca's ye waur than tongue can tell."

There are two very pithy Scottish proverbial expressions for describing

the case of young women losing their chance of good marriages by setting

their aims too high. Thus an old lady, speaking of her granddaughter

having made what she considered a poor match, described her as having

"_lookit at the moon, and lichtit[136] in the midden_."

It is recorded again of a celebrated beauty, Becky Monteith, that being

asked how she had not made a good marriage, she replied, "_Ye see, I

wadna hae the walkers, and the riders gaed by._"

_It's ill to wauken sleeping dogs._ It is a bad policy to rouse

dangerous and mischievous people, who are for the present quiet.

_It is nae mair ferly[137] to see a woman greit than to see a goose go

barefit._ A harsh and ungallant reference to the facility with which the

softer sex can avail themselves of tears to carry a point.

_A Scots mist will weet an Englishman to the skin._ A proverb,

evidently of Caledonian origin, arising from the frequent complaints

made by English visitors of the heavy mists which hang about our hills,

and which are found to annoy the southern traveller as it were

downright rain.

_Keep your ain fish-guts to your ain sea-maws._ This was a favourite

proverb with Sir Walter Scott, when he meant to express the policy of

first considering the interests that are nearest home. The saying

savours of the fishing population of the east cost.

_A Yule feast may be done at Pasch_. Festivities, although usually

practised at Christmas, need not, on suitable occasions, be confined to

any season.

_It's better to sup wi' a cutty than want a spune._ Cutty means anything

short, stumpy, and not of full growth; frequently applied to a

short-handled horn spoon. As Meg Merrilies says to the bewildered

Dominie, "If ye dinna eat instantly, by the bread and salt, I'll put it

down your throat wi' the _cutty spune_."

"_Fules mak feasts and wise men eat 'em,_ my Lord." This was said to a

Scottish nobleman on his giving a great entertainment, and who readily

answered, "Ay, and _Wise men make proverbs and fools repeat 'em._"

_A green Yule[138] and a white Pays[139] mak a fat kirk-yard._ A very

coarse proverb, but may express a general truth as regards the effects

of season on the human frame. Another of a similar character is, _An

air[140] winter maks a sair[141] winter_.

_Wha will bell the cat?_ The proverb is used in reference to a proposal

for accomplishing a difficult or dangerous task, and alludes to the

fable of the poor mice proposing to put a bell about the cat's neck,

that they might be apprised of his coming. The historical application is

well known. When the nobles of Scotland proposed to go in a body to

Stirling to take Cochrane, the favourite of James the Third, and hang

him, the Lord Gray asked, "It is well said, but wha will bell the cat?"

The Earl of Angus accepted the challenge, and effected the object. To

his dying day he was called Archibald Bell-the-Cat.

_Ye hae tint the tongue o' the trump._ "Trump" is a Jew's harp. To lose

the tongue of it is to lose what is essential to its sound.

_Meat and mass hinders nae man._ Needful food, and suitable religious

exercises, should not be spared under greatest haste.

_Ye fand it whar the Highlandman fand the tangs_ (i.e. at the fireside).

A hit at our mountain neighbours, who occasionally took from the

Lowlands--as having found--something that was never lost.

_His head will ne'er rive_ (i.e. tear) _his father's bonnet_. A

picturesque way of expressing that the son will never equal the

influence and ability of his sire.

_His bark is waur nor his bite._ A good-natured apology for one who is

good-hearted and rough in speech.

_Do as the cow of Forfar did, tak a standing drink_. This proverb

relates to an occurrence which gave rise to a lawsuit and a whimsical

legal decision. A woman in Forfar, who was brewing, set out her tub of

beer to cool. A cow came by and drank it up. The owner of the cow was

sued for compensation, but the bailies of Forfar, who tried the case,

acquitted the owner of the cow, on the ground that the farewell drink,

called in the Highlands the _dochan doris_[142], or stirrup-cup, taken

by the guest standing by the door, was never charged; and as the cow

had taken but a standing drink outside, it could not, according to the

Scottish usage, be chargeable. Sir Walter Scott has humorously alluded

to this circumstance in the notes to _Waverley_, but has not mentioned

it as the subject of an old Scotch proverb.

_Bannocks are better nor nae kind o' bread._ Evidently Scottish. Better

have oatmeal cakes to eat than be in want of wheaten loaves.

_Folly is a bonny dog._ Meaning, I suppose, that many are imposed upon

by the false appearances and attractions of vicious pleasures.

_The e'ening brings a' hame_ is an interesting saying, meaning, that the

evening of life, or the approach of death, softens many of our political

and religious differences. I do not find this proverb in the older

collections, but Sir William Maxwell justly calls it "a beautiful

proverb, which, lending itself to various uses, may be taken as an

expression of faith in the gradual growth and spread of large-hearted

Christian charity, the noblest result of our happy freedom of thought

and discussion." The literal idea of the "e'ening bringing a' hame," has

a high and illustrious antiquity, as in the fragment of Sappho, [Greek:

'Espere, panta phereis--phereis oin (or oinon) phereis aiga, phereis

maeteri paida]--which is thus paraphrased by Lord Byron in Don Juan,

iii. 107:--

"O Hesperus, thou bringest all good things--

Home to the weary, to the hungry cheer;

To the young birds the parent's brooding wings,

The welcome stall to the o'erlaboured steer, etc.

Thou bring'st the child, too, to the mother's breast."

A similar graceful and moral saying inculcates an acknowledgment of

gratitude for the past favours which we have enjoyed when we come to

the close of the day or the close of life--

_Ruse[143] the fair day at e'en._

But a very learned and esteemed friend has suggested another reading of

this proverb, in accordance with the celebrated saying of Solon (Arist.

Eth. N.I. 10): [Greek: Kata Solona chreon telos hozan]--Do not praise

the fairness of the day _till_ evening; do not call the life happy

_till_ you have seen the close; or, in other matters, do not boast that

all is well till you have conducted your undertaking to a

prosperous end.

_Let him tak a spring on his ain fiddle._ Spoken of a foolish and

unreasonable person; as if to say, "We will for the present allow him to

have his own way." Bailie Nicol Jarvie quotes the proverb with great

bitterness, when he warns his opponent that _his_ time for triumph will

come ere long,--"Aweel, aweel, sir, you're welcome to a tune on your ain

fiddle; but see if I dinna gar ye dance till't afore it's dune."

_The kirk is meikle, but ye may say mass in ae end o't;_ or, as I have

received it in another form, "If we canna preach in the kirk, we can

sing mass in the quire." This intimates, where something is alleged to

be too much, that you need take no more than what you have need for. I

heard the proverb used in this sense by Sir Walter Scott at his own

table. His son had complained of some quaighs which Sir Walter had

produced for a dram after dinner, that they were too large. His answer

was, "Well, Walter, as my good mother used to say, if the kirk is ower

big, just sing mass in the quire." Here is another reference to kirk and

quire--_He rives[144] the kirk to theik[145] the quire_. Spoken of

unprofitable persons, who in the English proverb, "rob Peter to

pay Paul."

_The king's errand may come the cadger's gate yet._ A great man may need

the service of a very mean one.

_The maut is aboon the meal._ His liquor has done more for him than his

meat. The man is drunk.

_Mak a kirk and a mill o't._ Turn a thing to any purpose you like; or

rather, spoken sarcastically, Take it, and make the best of it.

_Like a sow playing on a trump._ No image could be well more incongruous

than a pig performing on a Jew's harp.

_Mair by luck than gude guiding._ His success is due to his fortunate

circumstances, rather than to his own discretion.

_He's not a man to ride the water wi'._ A common Scottish saying to

express you cannot trust such an one in trying times. May have arisen

from the districts where fords abounded, and the crossing them was

dangerous.

_He rides on the riggin o' the kirk._ The rigging being the top of the

roof, the proverb used to be applied to those who carried their zeal for

church matters to the extreme point.

_Leal heart never lee'd,_ well expresses that an honest loyal

disposition will scorn, under all circumstances, to tell a falsehood.

A common Scottish proverb, _Let that flee stick to the wa'_, has an

obvious meaning,--"Say nothing more on that subject." But the derivation

is not obvious[146]. In like manner, the meaning of _He that will to

Cupar maun to Cupar_, is clearly that if a man is obstinate, and bent

upon his own dangerous course, he must take it. But why Cupar? and

whether is it the Cupar of Angus or the Cupar of Fife?

_Kindness creeps where it canna gang_ prettily expresses that where love

can do little, it will do that little, though it cannot do more.

In my part of the country a ridiculous addition used to be made to the

common Scottish saying. _Mony a thing's made for the pennie_, i.e. Many

contrivances are thought of to get money. The addition is, "As the old

woman said when she saw a black man," taking it for granted that he was

an ingenious and curious piece of mechanism made for profit.

_Bluid is thicker than water_ is a proverb which has a marked Scottish

aspect, as meant to vindicate those family predilections to which, as a

nation, we are supposed to be rather strongly inclined.

_There's aye water where the stirkie[147] drouns._ Where certain effects

are produced, there must be some causes at work--a proverb used to show

that a universal popular suspicion as to an obvious effect must be

laid in truth.

_Better a finger aff than aye waggin_'. This proverb I remember as a

great favourite with many Scotch people. Better experience the worst,

than have an evil always pending.

_Cadgers are aye cracking o' crook saddles_[148] has a very Scottish

aspect, and signifies that professional men are very apt to talk too

much of their profession.

The following is purely Scotch, for in no country but Scotland are

singed sheep heads to be met with: _He's like a sheep head in a pair

o' tangs._

_As sure's deeth_. A common Scottish proverbial expression to signify

either the truth or certainty of a fact, or to pledge the speaker to a

performance of his promise. In the latter sense an amusing illustration

of faith in the superior obligation of this asseveration to any other,

is recorded in the _Eglinton Papers_[149]. The Earl one day found a boy

climbing up a tree, and called him to come down. The boy declined,

because, he said, the Earl would thrash him. His Lordship pledged his

honour that he would not do so. The boy replied, "I dinna ken onything

about your honour, but if you say as sure's deeth I'll come doun."

Proverbs are sometimes local in their application.

_The men o' the Mearns canna do mair than they may._ Even the men of

Kincardineshire can only do their utmost--a proverb intended to be

highly complimentary to the powers of the men of that county.

_I'll mak Cathkin's covenant wi' you, Let abee for let abee._ This is a

local saying quoted often in Hamilton. The laird of that property

had--very unlike the excellent family who have now possessed it for more

than a century--been addicted to intemperance. One of his neighbours, in

order to frighten him on his way home from his evening potations,

disguised himself, on a very wet night, and, personating the devil,

claimed a title to carry him off as his rightful property. Contrary to

all expectation, however, the laird showed fight, and was about to

commence the onslaught, when a parley was proposed, and the issue was,

"Cathkin's covenant, Let abee for let abee."

_When the castle of Stirling gets a hat, the Carse of Corntown pays for

that._ This is a local proverbial saying; the meaning is, that when the

clouds descend so low as to envelope Stirling Castle, a deluge of rain

may be expected in the adjacent country.

I will conclude this notice of our proverbial reminiscences, by adding a

cluster of Scottish proverbs, selected from an excellent article on the

general subject in the _North British Review_ of February 1858. The

reviewer designates these as "broader in their mirth, and more caustic

in their tone," than the moral proverbial expressions of the Spanish and

Italian:--

_A blate[150] cat maks a proud mouse.

Better a toom[151] house than an ill tenant.

Jouk[152] and let the jaw[153] gang by.

Mony ane speirs the gate[154] he kens fu' weel.

The tod[155] ne'er sped better than when he gaed his ain errand.

A wilfu' man should be unco wise.

He that has a meikle nose thinks ilka ane speaks o't.

He that teaches himsell has a fule for his maister.

It's an ill cause that the lawyer thinks shame o'.

Lippen[156] to me, but look to yoursell.

Mair whistle than woo, as the souter said when shearing the soo.

Ye gae far about seeking the nearest.

Ye'll no sell your hen on a rainy day.

Ye'll mend when ye grow better.

Ye're nae chicken for a' your cheepin'_[157].

I have now adduced quite sufficient specimens to convince those who may

not have given attention to the subject, how much of wisdom, knowledge

of life, and good feeling, are contained in these aphorisms which

compose the mass of our Scottish proverbial sayings. No doubt, to many

of my younger readers proverbs are little known, and to all they are

becoming more and more matters of reminiscence. I am quite convinced

that much of the old quaint and characteristic Scottish talk which we

are now endeavouring to recall depended on a happy use of those

abstracts of moral sentiment. And this feeling will be confirmed when we

call to mind how often those of the old Scottish school of character,

whose conversation we have ourselves admired, had most largely availed

themselves of the use of its _proverbial_ philosophy.

I have already spoken of (p. 16) a Scottish peculiarity--viz. that of

naming individuals from lands which have been possessed long by the

family, or frequently from the landed estates which they acquire. The

use of this mode of discriminating individuals in the Highland districts

is sufficiently obvious. Where the inhabitants of a whole country-side

are Campbells, or Frasers, or Gordons, nothing could be more convenient

than addressing the individuals of each clan by the name of his estate.

Indeed, some years ago, any other designation, as Mr. Campbell, Mr.

Fraser, would have been resented as an indignity. Their consequence

sprang from their possession[158]. But all this is fast wearing away.

The estates of old families have often changed hands, and Highlanders

are most unwilling to give the names of old properties to new

proprietors. The custom, however, lingers amongst us, in the northern

districts especially. Farms also used to give their names to the

tenants[159]. I can recall an amusing instance of this practice

belonging to my early days. The oldest recollections I have are

connected with the name, the figure, the sayings and doings, of the old

cow-herd at Fasque in my father's time; his name was Boggy, _i.e._ his

ordinary appellation; his true name was Sandy Anderson. But he was

called Boggy from the circumstance of having once held a wretched farm

on Deeside named Boggendreep. He had long left it, and been unfortunate

in it, but the name never left him,--he was Boggy to his grave. The

territorial appellation used to be reckoned complimentary, and more

respectful than Mr. or any higher title to which the individual might be

entitled. I recollect, in my brother's time, at Fasque, his showing off

some of his home stock to Mr. Williamson, the Aberdeen butcher. They

came to a fine stot, and Sir Alexander said, with some appearance of

boast, "I was offered twenty guineas for that ox." "Indeed, Fasque,"

said Williamson, "ye should hae steekit your neive upo' that."

Sir Walter Scott had marked in his diary a territorial greeting of two

proprietors which had amused him much. The laird of Kilspindie had met

the laird of Tannachy-Tulloch, and the following compliments passed

between them:--"Yer maist obedient hummil servant, Tannachy-Tulloch." To

which the reply was, "Yer nain man, Kilspindie."

In proportion as we advance towards the Highland district this custom of

distinguishing clans or races, and marking them out according to the

district they occupied, became more apparent. There was the Glengarry

country, the Fraser country, the Gordon country, etc. etc. These names

carried also with them certain moral features as characteristic of each

division. Hence the following anecdote:--The morning litany of an old

laird of Cultoquhey, when he took his morning draught at the cauld well,

was in these terms:--"Frae the ire o' the Drummonds, the pride o' the

Græmes, the greed o' the Campbells, and the wind o' the Murrays, guid

Lord deliver us."

The Duke of Athole, having learned that Cultoquhey was in the habit of

mentioning his Grace's family in such uncomplimentary terms, invited the

humorist to Dunkeld, for the purpose of giving him a hint to desist from

the reference. After dinner, the Duke asked his guest what were the

precise terms in which he was in the habit of alluding to his powerful

neighbours. Cultoquhey repeated his liturgy without a moment's

hesitation. "I recommend you," said his Grace, looking very angry, "in

future to omit my name from your morning devotions." All he got from

Cultoquhey was, "Thank ye, my Lord Duke," taking off his glass with the

utmost sangfroid.

FOOTNOTES:

[49] Stoor is, Scotticé, dust in motion, and has no English synonym; oor

is hour. Sir Walter Scott is said to have advised an artist, in painting

a battle, not to deal with details, but to get up a good _stoor_: then

put in an arm and a sword here and there, and leave all the rest to the

imagination of the spectator.

[50] Reach me a leg of that turkey.

[51] Clearing ashes out of the bars of the grate.

[52] Mentally confused. Muddy when applied to water.

[53] Preface to 4th edition of _Mystifications_, by Dr. John Brown.

[54] Worse.

[55] Where.

[56] Lord Cockburn's _Memorials_, p. 58.

[57] Frogs.

[58] Killed.

[59] Miss Jenny Methven.

[60] "Civil," "obliging."--Jamieson.

[61] _Dam_, the game of draughts.

[62] _Brod_, the board.

[63] Measles.

[64] Nettle-rash.

[65] The itch.

[66] Whooping-cough.

[67] Mumps.

[68] Toothache.

[69] The Scotticisms are printed in italics.

[70] Delicate in health.

[71] Ailment.

[72] Yawning.

[73] Catching.

[74] Tea-urn

[75] _Ver_, the spring months.--_e.g._ "This was in _ver_ quhen wynter

tid."--_Barbour_.

[76] A number.

[77] Young girls.

[78] Gallows birds.

[79] whistling noises.

[80] Distorted gestures.

[81] Honey jar.

[82] A kind of loose gown formerly worn.

[83] Amongst many acts of kindness and essential assistance which I have

received and am constantly receiving from my friend Mr. Hugh James

Rollo, I owe my introduction to this interesting Scottish volume, now, I

believe, rather scarce.

[84] Kelly's book is constantly quoted by Jamieson, and is, indeed, an

excellent work for the study of good old Scotch.

[85] This probably throws back the collection to about the middle of the

century.

[86] Nurse.

[87] Daw, a slut.

[88] Would.

[89] Forgive.

[90] Going or moving.

[91] Foot.

[92] Always.

[93] If.

[94] Boasters.

[95] Used as cowards(?)

[96] Jest.

[97] A dog's name.

[98] To skail house, to disfurnish.

[99] Being angry or cross.

[100] Judge.

[101] Know not.

[102] Blames.

[103] To aim at.

[104] A stroke.

[105] Full.

[106] Hold.

[107] Potent or strong.

[108] Is angry.

[109] Settle.

[110] Amends.

[111] Comb.

[112] Seldom.

[113] Painfully.

[114] Wool-combers.

[115] Greasy.

[116] Worthless fellow.

[117] Loses.

[118] Sixpenny.

[119] A sort of dagger or hanger which seems to have been used both at

meals as a knife and in broils--

"And _whingers_ now in friendship bare,

The social meal to part and share,

Had found a bloody sheath."

--_Lay of the Last Minstrel_.

[120] Thong.

[121] No lawsuit.

[122] Robbers.

[123] Rue, to repent.

[124] More.

[125] Maidens.

[126] Hares.

[127] Take after.

[128] Cuckoo.

[129] Note.

[130] Attired.

[131] Curried.

[132] Related.

[133] Outrun.

[134] Tune.

[135] Curtsied.

[136] Fallen.

[137] Surprise.

[138] Christmas.

[139] Pasch or Easter.

[140] Early.

[141] Severe.

[142] The proper orthography of this expression is deoch-an-doruis (or

dorais). _Deoch_, a drink; _an_, of the; _doruis_ or _dorais_,

possessive case of dorus or doras a door.

[143] Praise.

[144] Tears.

[145] Thatch.

[146] It has been suggested, and with much reason, that the reference is

to a fly sticking on a wet or a newly painted wall; this is corroborated

by the addition in Rob Roy, "When the dirt's dry, it will rub out,"

which seems to point out the meaning and derivation of the proverb.

[147] A young bullock.

[148] Saddle for supporting panniers.

[149] Vol. i. p. 134.

[150] Shy.

[151] Empty.

[152] Stoop down.

[153] Wave.

[154] The way.

[155] Fox.

[156] Trust to.

[157] Chirping.

[158] Even in Forfarshire, where Carnegies abound, we had Craigo,

Balnamoon, Pitarrow, etc.

[159] This custom is still in use in Galloway; and "Challoch,"

"Eschonchan," "Tonderghie," "Balsalloch," and "Drummorral," etc. etc.,

appear regularly at kirk and market.

CHAPTER THE SEVENTH.

ON SCOTTISH STORIES OF WIT AND HUMOUR.

The portion of our subject which we proposed under the head of

"Reminiscences of Scottish Stories of Wit or Humour," yet remains to be

considered. This is closely connected with the question of Scottish

dialect and expressions; indeed, on some points hardly separable, as the

wit, to a great extent, proceeds from the quaint and picturesque modes

of expressing it. But here we are met by a difficulty. On high authority

it has been declared that no such thing as wit exists amongst us. What

has no existence can have no change. We cannot be said to have lost a

quality which we never possessed. Many of my readers are no doubt

familiar with what Sydney Smith declared on this point, and certainly on

the question of wit he must be considered an authority. He used to say

(I am almost ashamed to repeat it), "It requires a surgical operation to

get a joke well into a Scotch understanding. Their only idea of wit,

which prevails occasionally in the north, and which, under the name of

WUT, is so infinitely distressing to people of good taste, is laughing

immoderately at stated intervals." Strange language to use of a country

which has produced Smollett, Burns, Scott, Galt, and Wilson--all

remarkable for the humour diffused through their writings! Indeed, we

may fairly ask, have they equals in this respect amongst English

writers? Charles Lamb had the same notion, or, I should rather say, the

same prejudice, about Scottish people not being accessible to wit; and

he tells a story of what happened to himself, in corroboration of the

opinion. He had been asked to a party, and one object of the invitation

had been to meet a son of Burns. When he arrived, Mr. Burns had not made

his appearance, and in the course of conversation regarding the family

of the poet, Lamb, in his lack-a-daisical kind of manner, said, "I wish

it had been the father instead of the son;" upon which four Scotsmen

present with one voice exclaimed, "That's impossible, for _he's

dead_[160]." Now, there will be dull men and matter-of-fact men

everywhere, who do not take a joke, or enter into a jocular allusion;

but surely, as a general remark, this is far from being a natural

quality of our country. Sydney Smith and Charles Lamb say so. But, at

the risk of being considered presumptuous, I will say I think them

entirely mistaken. I should say that there was, on the contrary, a

strong _connection_ between the Scottish temperament and, call it if you

like, humour, if it is not wit. And what is the difference? My readers

need not be afraid that they are to be led through a labyrinth of

metaphysical distinctions between wit and humour. I have read Dr.

Campbell's dissertation on the difference, in his Philosophy of

Rhetoric; I have read Sydney Smith's own two lectures; but I confess I

am not much the wiser. Professors of rhetoric, no doubt, must have such

discussions; but when you wish to be amused by the thing itself, it is

somewhat disappointing to be presented with metaphysical analysis. It is

like instituting an examination of the glass and cork of a champagne

bottle, and a chemical testing of the wine. In the very process the

volatile and sparkling draught which was to delight the palate has

become like ditch water, vapid and dead. What I mean is, that, call it

wit or humour, or what you please, there is a school of Scottish

pleasantry, amusing and characteristic beyond all other. Don't think of

_analysing_ its nature, or the qualities of which it is composed; enjoy

its quaint and amusing flow of oddity and fun; as we may, for instance,

suppose it to have flowed on that eventful night so joyously described

by Burns:--

"The souter tauld his queerest stories,

The landlord's laugh was ready chorus."

Or we may think of the delight it gave the good Mr. Balwhidder, when he

tells, in his Annals of the Parish, of some such story, that it was a

"jocosity that was just a kittle to hear." When I speak of changes in

such Scottish humour which have taken place, I refer to a particular

sort of humour, and I speak of the sort of feeling that belongs to

Scottish pleasantry,--which is sly, and cheery, and pawky. It is

undoubtedly a humour that depends a good deal upon the vehicle in which

the story is conveyed. If, as we have said, our quaint dialect is

passing away, and our national eccentric points of character, we must

expect to find much of the peculiar humour allied with them to have

passed away also. In other departments of wit and repartee, and acute

hits at men and things, Scotsmen (whatever Sydney Smith may have said to

the contrary) are equal to their neighbours, and, so far as I know, may

have gained rather than lost. But this peculiar humour of which I now

speak has not, in our day, the scope and development which were

permitted to it by the former generation. Where the tendency exists, the

exercise of it is kept down by the usages and feelings of society. For

examples of it (in its full force at any rate) we must go back to a race

who are departed. One remark, however, has occurred to me in regard to

the specimens we have of this kind of humour--viz. that they do not

always proceed from the personal wit or cleverness of any of the

individuals concerned in them. The amusement comes from the

circumstances, from the concurrence or combination of the ideas, and in

many cases from the mere expressions which describe the facts. The

humour of the narrative is unquestionable, and yet no one has tried to

be humorous. In short, it is the _Scottishness_ that gives the zest. The

same ideas differently expounded might have no point at all. There is,

for example, something highly original in the notions of celestial

mechanics entertained by an honest Scottish Fife lass regarding the

theory of comets. Having occasion to go out after dark, and having

observed the brilliant comet then visible (1858), she ran in with

breathless haste to the house, calling on her fellow-servants to "Come

oot and see a new star that hasna got its tail cuttit aff yet!"

Exquisite astronomical speculation! Stars, like puppies, are born with

tails, and in due time have them docked. Take an example of a story

where there is no display of any one's wit or humour, and yet it is a

good story, and one can't exactly say why:--An English traveller had

gone on a fine Highland road so long, without having seen an indication

of fellow-travellers, that he became astonished at the solitude of the

country; and no doubt before the Highlands were so much frequented as

they are in our time, the roads sometimes bore a very striking aspect of

solitariness. Our traveller, at last coming up to an old man breaking

stones, asked him if there was _any_ traffic on this road--was it at

_all_ frequented? "Ay," he said, coolly, "it's no ill at that; there was

a cadger body yestreen, and there's yoursell the day." No English

version of the story could have half such amusement, or have so quaint a

character. An answer even still more characteristic is recorded to have

been given by a countryman to a traveller. Being doubtful of his way, he

inquired if he were on the right road to Dunkeld. With some of his

national inquisitiveness about strangers, the countryman asked his

inquirer where he came from. Offended at the liberty, as he considered

it, he sharply reminded the man that where he came from was nothing to

him; but all the answer he got was the quiet rejoinder, "Indeed, it's

just as little to me whar ye're gaen." A friend has told me of an answer

highly characteristic of this dry and unconcerned quality which he heard

given to a fellow-traveller. A gentleman sitting opposite to him in the

stage-coach at Berwick complained bitterly that the cushion on which he

sat was quite wet. On looking up to the roof he saw a hole through which

the rain descended copiously, and at once accounted for the mischief. He

called for the coachman, and in great wrath reproached him with the evil

under which he suffered, and pointed to the hole which was the cause of

it. All the satisfaction, however, that he got was the quiet unmoved

reply, "Ay, mony a ane has complained o' _that_ hole." Another anecdote

I heard from a gentleman who vouched for the truth, which is just a case

where the narrative has its humour not from the wit which is displayed

but from that dry matter-of-fact view of things peculiar to some of our

countrymen. The friend of my informant was walking in a street of Perth,

when, to his horror, he saw a workman fall from a roof where he was

mending slates, right upon the pavement. By extraordinary good fortune

he was not killed, and on the gentleman going up to his assistance, and

exclaiming, with much excitement, "God bless me, are you much hurt?" all

the answer he got was the cool rejoinder, "On the contrary, sir." A

similar matter-of fact answer was made by one of the old race of

Montrose humorists. He was coming out of church, and in the press of the

kirk _skailing_, a young man thoughtlessly trod on the old gentleman's

toe, which was tender with corns. He hastened to apologise, saying, "I

am very sorry, sir; I beg your pardon." The only acknowledgment of which

was the dry answer, "And ye've as muckle need, sir." An old man marrying

a very young wife, his friends rallied him on the inequality of their

ages. "She will be near me," he replied, "to close my een." "Weel,"

remarked another of the party, "I've had twa wives, and they _opened

my een_."

One of the best specimens of cool Scottish matter-of-fact view of things

has been supplied by a kind correspondent, who narrates it from his own

personal recollection.

The back windows of the house where he was brought up looked upon the

Greyfriars Church that was burnt down. On the Sunday morning in which

that event took place, as they were all preparing to go to church, the

flames began to burst forth; the young people screamed from the back

part of the house, "A fire! A fire!" and all was in a state of confusion

and alarm. The housemaid was not at home, it being her turn for the

Sunday "out." Kitty, the cook, was taking her place, and performing her

duties. The old woman was always very particular on the subject of her

responsibility on such occasions, and came panting and hobbling up

stairs from the lower regions, and exclaimed, "Oh, what is't, what

is't?" "O Kitty, look here, the Greyfriars Church is on fire!" "Is that

a', Miss? What a fricht ye geed me! I thought ye said the parlour

fire was out."

In connection with the subject of Scottish _toasts_ I am supplied by a

first-rate Highland authority of one of the most graceful and crushing

replies of a lady to what was intended as a sarcastic compliment and

smart saying at her expense.

About the beginning of the present century the then Campbell of Combie,

on Loch Awe side, in Argyleshire, was a man of extraordinary character,

and of great physical strength, and such swiftness of foot that it is

said he could "catch the best _tup_ on the hill." He also looked upon

himself as a "pretty man," though in this he was singular; also, it was

more than whispered that the laird was not remarkable for his principles

of honesty. There also lived in the same district a Miss MacNabb of

Bar-a'-Chaistril, a lady who, before she had passed the zenith of life,

had never been remarkable for her beauty--the contrary even had passed

into a proverb, while she was in her teens; but, to counterbalance this

defect in external qualities, nature had endowed her with great

benevolence, while she was renowned for her probity. One day the Laird

of Combie, who piqued himself on his _bon-mots,_ was, as frequently

happened, a guest of Miss MacNabb's, and after dinner several toasts had

gone round as usual, Combie rose with great solemnity and addressing the

lady of the house requested an especial bumper, insisting on all the

guests to fill to the brim. He then rose and said, addressing himself to

Miss MacNabb, "I propose the old Scottish toast of 'Honest men and

_bonnie_ lassies,'" and bowing to the hostess, he resumed his seat. The

lady returned his bow with her usual amiable smile, and taking up her

glass, replied, "Weel, Combie, I am sure _we_ may drink that, for it

will neither apply to _you_ nor _me_."

An amusing example of a quiet cool view of a pecuniary transaction

happened to my father whilst doing the business of the rent-day. He was

receiving sums of money from the tenants in succession. After looking

over a bundle of notes which he had just received from one of them, a

well-known character, he said in banter, "James, the notes are not

correct." To which the farmer, who was much of a humorist, drily

answered, "I dinna ken what they may be _noo_; but they were a' richt

afore ye had your fingers in amang 'em." An English farmer would hardly

have spoken thus to his landlord. The Duke of Buccleuch told me an

answer very quaintly Scotch, given to his grandmother by a farmer of the

old school. A dinner was given to some tenantry of the vast estates of

the family, in the time of Duke Henry. His Duchess (the last descendant

of the Dukes of Montague) always appeared at table on such occasions,

and did the honours with that mixture of dignity and of affable kindness

for which she was so remarkable. Abundant hospitality was shown to all

the guests. The Duchess, having observed one of the tenants supplied

with boiled beef from a noble round, proposed that he should add a

supply of cabbage: on his declining, the Duchess good-humouredly

remarked, "Why, boiled beef and 'greens' seem so naturally to go

together, I wonder you don't take it." To which the honest farmer

objected, "Ah, but your Grace maun alloo it's a vary _windy_ vegetable,"

in delicate allusion to the flatulent quality of the esculent. Similar

to this was the naïve answer of a farmer on the occasion of a rent-day.

The lady of the house asked him if he would take some "rhubarb-tart," to

which he innocently answered, "Thank ye, mem, I dinna _need_ it."

A Highland minister, dining with the patroness of his parish, ventured

to say, "I'll thank your leddyship for a little more of that

apple-tart;" "It's not apple-tart, it's rhubarb," replied the lady.

"Rhubarb!" repeated the other, with a look of surprise and alarm, and

immediately called out to the attendant, "Freend, I'll thank you for

a dram."

A characteristic _table_ anecdote I can recall amongst Deeside

reminiscences. My aunt, Mrs. Forbes, had entertained an honest Scotch

farmer at Banchory Lodge; a draught of ale had been offered to him,

which he had quickly despatched. My aunt observing that the glass had no

head or effervescence, observed, that she feared it had not been a good

bottle, "Oh, vera gude, maam, it's just some strong o' the aaple," an

expression which indicates the beer to be somewhat sharp or pungent. It

turned out to have been a bottle of _vinegar_ decanted by mistake.

An amusing instance of an old Scottish farmer being unacquainted with

table refinements occurred at a tenant's dinner in the north. The

servant had put down beside him a dessert spoon when he had been helped

to pudding. This seemed quite superfluous to the honest man, who

exclaimed, "Tak' it awa, my man; my mou's as big for puddin' as it is

for kail."

Amongst the lower orders in Scotland humour is found, occasionally,

very rich in mere children, and I recollect a remarkable illustration of

this early native humour occurring in a family in Forfarshire, where I

used in former days to be very intimate. A wretched woman, who used to

traverse the country as a beggar or tramp, left a poor, half-starved

little girl by the road-side, near the house of my friends. Always ready

to assist the unfortunate, they took charge of the child, and as she

grew a little older they began to give her some education, and taught

her to read. She soon made some progress in reading the Bible, and the

native odd humour of which we speak began soon to show itself. On

reading the passage, which began, "Then David rose," etc., the child

stopped, and looked up knowingly, to say, "I ken wha that was," and on

being asked what she could mean, she confidently said, "That's David

Rowse the pleuchman." And again, reading the passage where the words

occur, "He took Paul's girdle," the child said, with much confidence, "I

ken what he took that for," and on being asked to explain, replied at

once, "To bake 's bannocks on;" "girdle" being in the north the name for

the iron plate hung over the fire for baking oat cakes or bannocks.

To a distinguished member of the Church of Scotland I am indebted for an

excellent story of quaint child humour, which he had from the lips of an

old woman who related the story of herself:--When a girl of eight years

of age she was taken by her grandmother to church. The parish minister

was not only a long preacher, but, as the custom was, delivered two

sermons on the Sabbath day without any interval, and thus saved the

parishioners the two journeys to church. Elizabeth was sufficiently

wearied before the close of the first discourse; but when, after singing

and prayer, the good minister opened the Bible, read a second text, and

prepared to give a second sermon, the young girl, being both tired and

hungry, lost all patience, and cried out to her grandmother, to the no

small amusement of those who were so near as to hear her, "Come awa,

granny, and gang hame; this is a lang grace, and nae meat."

A most amusing account of child humour used to be narrated by an old Mr.

Campbell of Jura, who told the story of his own son. It seems the boy

was much spoilt by indulgence. In fact, the parents were scarce able to

refuse him anything he demanded. He was in the drawing-room on one

occasion when dinner was announced, and on being ordered up to the

nursery he insisted on going down to dinner with the company. His mother

was for refusal, but the child persevered, and kept saying, "If I dinna

gang, I'll tell thon." His father then, for peace sake, let him go. So

he went and sat at table by his mother. When he found every one getting

soup and himself omitted, he demanded soup, and repeated, "If I dinna

get it, I'll tell thon." Well, soup was given, and various other things

yielded to his importunities, to which he always added the usual threat

of "telling thon." At last, when it came to wine, his mother stood firm,

and positively refused, as "a bad thing for little boys," and so on. He

then became more vociferous than ever about "telling thon;" and as still

he was refused, he declared, "Now, I will tell thon," and at last roared

out, "_Ma new breeks were made oot o' the auld curtains_!"

The Rev. Mr. Agnew has kindly sent me an anecdote which supplies an

example of cleverness in a Scottish boy, and which rivals, as he

observes, the smartness of the London boy, termed by _Punch_ the "Street

boy." It has also a touch of quiet, sly Scottish _humour_. A gentleman,

editor of a Glasgow paper, well known as a bon-vivant and epicure, and

by no means a popular character, was returning one day from his office,

and met near his own house a boy carrying a splendid salmon. The

gentleman looked at it with longing eyes, and addressed the boy--"Where

are you taking that salmon, my boy?" Boy--"Do you ken gin ae Mr. ----

(giving the gentleman's name) lives hereabout?" Mr. ---- "Yes, oh yes;

his house is here just by." Boy (looking sly)--"Weel, it's no for him."

Of this same Scottish _boy cleverness_, the Rev. Mr. M'Lure of Marykirk

kindly supplies a capital specimen, in an instance which occurred at

what is called the market, at Fettercairn, where there is always a

hiring of servants. A boy was asked by a farmer if he wished to be

engaged. "Ou ay," said the youth. "Wha was your last maister?" was the

next question. "Oh, yonder him," said the boy; and then agreeing to wait

where he was standing with some other servants till the inquirer should

return from examination of the boy's late employer. The farmer returned

and accosted the boy, "Weel, lathie, I've been speerin' about ye, an'

I'm tae tak ye." "Ou ay," was the prompt reply, "an' I've been speerin'

about _ye tae_, an' I'm nae gaen."

We could not have had a better specimen of the cool self-sufficiency of

these young domestics of the Scottish type than the following:--I heard

of a boy making a very cool and determined exit from the house into

which he had very lately been introduced. He had been told that he

should be dismissed if he broke any of the china that was under his

charge. On the morning of a great dinner-party he was entrusted (rather

rashly) with a great load of plates, which he was to carry up-stairs

from the kitchen to the dining-room, and which were piled up, and

rested upon his two hands. In going up-stairs his foot slipped, and the

plates were broken to atoms. He at once went up to the drawing-room, put

his head in at the door, and shouted: "The plates are a' smashed,

and I'm awa."

A facetious and acute friend, who rather leans to the Sydney Smith view

of Scottish wit, declares that all our humorous stories are about

lairds, and lairds that are drunk. Of such stories there are certainly

not a few. The following is one of the best belonging to my part of the

country, and to many persons I should perhaps apologise for introducing

it at all. The story has been told of various parties and localities,

but no doubt the genuine laird was a laird of Balnamoon (pronounced in

the country Bonnymoon), and that the locality was a wild tract of land,

not far from his place, called Munrimmon Moor. Balnamoon had been dining

out in the neighbourhood, where, by mistake, they had put down to him

after dinner cherry brandy, instead of port wine, his usual beverage.

The rich flavour and strength so pleased him that, having tasted it, he

would have nothing else. On rising from table, therefore, the laird

would be more affected by his drink than if he had taken his ordinary

allowance of port. His servant Harry or Hairy was to drive him home in a

gig, or whisky as it was called, the usual open carriage of the time. On

crossing the moor, however, whether from greater exposure to the blast,

or from the laird's unsteadiness of head, his hat and wig came off and

fell upon the ground. Harry got out to pick them up and restore them to

his master. The laird was satisfied with the hat, but demurred at the

wig. "It's no my wig, Hairy, lad; it's no my wig," and refused to have

anything to do with it. Hairy lost his patience, and, anxious to get

home, remonstrated with his master, "Ye'd better tak it, sir, for

there's nae _waile_[161] o' wigs on Munrimmon Moor." The humour of the

argument is exquisite, putting to the laird in his unreasonable

objection the sly insinuation that in such a locality, if he did not

take _this_ wig, he was not likely to find another. Then, what a rich

expression, "waile o' wigs." In English what is it? "A choice of

perukes;" which is nothing comparable to the "waile o' wigs." I ought to

mention also an amusing sequel to the story, viz. in what happened after

the affair of the wig had been settled, and the laird had consented to

return home. When the whisky drove up to the door, Hairy, sitting in

front, told the servant who came "to tak out the laird." No laird was to

be seen; and it appeared that he had fallen out on the moor without

Hairy observing it. Of course, they went back, and, picking him up,

brought him safe home. A neighbouring laird having called a few days

after, and having referred to the accident, Balnamoon quietly added,

"Indeed, I maun hae a lume[162] that'll _haud in_."

The laird of Balnamoon was a truly eccentric character. He joined with

his drinking propensities a great zeal for the Episcopal church, the

service of which he read to his own family with much solemnity and

earnestness of manner. Two gentlemen, one of them a stranger to the

country, having called pretty early one Sunday morning, Balnamoon

invited them to dinner, and as they accepted the invitation, they

remained and joined in the forenoon devotional exercises conducted by

Balnamoon himself. The stranger was much impressed with the laird's

performance of the service, and during a walk which they took before

dinner, mentioned to his friend how highly he esteemed the religious

deportment of their host. The gentleman said nothing, but smiled to

himself at the scene which he anticipated was to follow. After dinner,

Balnamoon set himself, according to the custom of old hospitable

Scottish hosts, to make his guests as drunk as possible. The result was,

that the party spent the evening in a riotous debauch, and were carried

to bed by the servants at a late hour. Next day, when they had taken

leave and left the house, the gentleman who had introduced his friend

asked him what he thought of their entertainer--"Why, really," he

replied, with evident astonishment, "sic a speat o' praying, and sic a

speat o' drinking, I never knew in the whole course o' my life."