"In the _Cornhill Magazine_ for March 1860, in an article on Student Life in Scotland, there is an anecdote of the late Professor Gillespie of St. Andrews, which is told in such a way as to miss the point and humour of the story. The correct version, as I have heard it from the professor himself, is this: Having employed the village carpenter to put a frame round a dial at the manse of Cults, where he was a minister, he received from the man a bill to the following effect:--'To fencing the _deil_, 5s. 6d.' 'When I paid him,' said the professor, 'I could not help saying, John, this is rather more than I counted on; but I haven't a word to say. I get somewhere about two hundred a year for fencing the _deil_, and I'm afraid I don't do it half so effectually as you've done.'"

"Whilst I am writing, another of the many stories of the learned and facetious professor rises in my mind. There was a worthy old woman at Cults whose place in church was what is commonly called the Lateran; a kind of small gallery at the top of the pulpit steps. She was a most regular attender, but as regularly fell asleep during sermon, of which fault the preacher had sometimes audible intimation. It was observed, however, that though Janet always slept during her own pastor's discourse, she could be attentive enough when she pleased, and especially was she alert when some young preacher occupied the pulpit. A little piqued, perhaps, at this, Mr. Gillespie said to her one day, 'Janet, I think you hardly behave very respectfully to your own minister in one respect.' 'Me, sir!' exclaimed Janet, 'I wad like to see ony man, no tae say woman, by yoursell, say that o' me! what can you mean, sir?'

'Weel, Janet, ye ken when I preach you're almost always fast asleep before I've well given out my text; but when any of these young men from St. Andrews preach for me, I see you never sleep a wink. Now, that's what I call no using me as you should do.' 'Hoot, sir,' was the reply, 'is that a'? I'll sune tell you the reason o' that. When you preach, we a' ken the word o' G.o.d's safe in your hands; but when thae young birkies tak it in haun, my certie, but it taks us a' to look after them[183].'

"I am tempted to subjoin another. In the Humanity Cla.s.s, one day, a youth who was rather fond of showing off his powers of language, translated Hor. Od. iii., 3, 61, 62, somewhat thus:--'The fortunes of Troy renascent under sorrowful omen shall be repeated with sad catastrophe.' 'Catastrophe!' cried the professor. 'Catastrophe, Mr.

----, that's Greek. Give us it in plain English, if you please.' Thus suddenly pulled down from his high horse, the student effected his retreat with a rather lame and impotent version. 'Now,' said the professor, his little sharp eyes twinkling with fun, 'that brings to my recollection what once happened to a friend of mine, a minister in the country. Being a scholarly man he was sometimes betrayed into the use of words in the pulpit which the people were not likely to understand; but being very conscientious, he never detected himself in this, without pausing to give the meaning of the word he had used, and sometimes his extempore explanations of very fine words were a little like what we have just had from Mr. ----, rather too flat and commonplace. On one occasion he allowed this very word 'catastrophe' to drop from him, on which he immediately added, 'that, you know, my friends, means the _end_ of a thing.' Next day, as he was riding through his parish, some mischievous youth succeeded in fastening a bunch of furze to his horse's tail--a trick which, had the animal been skittish, might have exposed the worthy pastor's horsemans.h.i.+p to too severe a trial, but which happily had no effect whatever on the sober-minded and respectable quadruped which he bestrode. On, therefore, he quietly jogged, utterly unconscious of the addition that had been made to his horse's caudal region, until, as he was pa.s.sing some cottages, he was arrested by the shrill voice of an old woman exclaiming, 'Heh, sir! Heh, sir! there's a whun-buss at your horse's catawstrophe!'"

I have several times adverted to the subject of epigrams. A clever impromptu of this cla.s.s has been recorded as given by a judge's lady in reply to one made by the witty Henry Erskine at a dinner party at Lord Armadale's. When a bottle of claret was called for, port was brought in by mistake. A second time claret was sent for, and a second time the same mistake occurred. Henry Erskine addressed the host in an impromptu, which was meant as a parody on the well-known Scottish song, "My Jo, Janet"--

"Kind sir, it's for your courtesie When I come here to dine, sir, For the love ye bear to me, Gie me the claret wine, sir."

To which Mrs. Honeyman retorted--

"Drink the port, the claret's dear, Erskine, Erskine; Yell get fou on't, never fear, My jo, Erskine."

Some of my younger readers may not be familiar with the epigram of John Home, author of the tragedy of "Douglas." The lines were great favourites with Sir Walter Scott, who delighted in repeating them. Home was very partial to claret, and could not bear port. He was exceedingly indignant when the Government laid a tax upon claret, having previously long connived at its introduction into Scotland under very mitigated duties. He embodied his anger in the following epigram:--

"Firm and erect the Caledonian stood, Old was his mutton, and his claret good; 'Let him drink port,' an English statesman cried-- He drank the poison, and his spirit died."

There is a curious story traditionary in some families connected with the n.o.bleman who is the subject of it, which, I am a.s.sured, is true, and further, that it has never yet appeared in print. The story is, therefore, a "Scottish reminiscence," and, as such, deserves a place here. The Earl of Lauderdale was so ill as to cause great alarm to his friends, and perplexity to his physicians. One distressing symptom was a total absence of sleep, and the medical men declared their opinion, that without sleep being induced he could not recover. His son, a queer eccentric-looking boy, who was considered not entirely right in his mind but somewhat "_daft_" and who accordingly had had little attention paid to his education, was sitting under the table, and cried out, "Sen' for that preachin' man frae Livingstone, for faither aye sleeps in the kirk." One of the doctors thought this hint worth attending to. The experiment of "getting a minister till him" succeeded, and, sleep coming on, he recovered. The Earl, out of grat.i.tude for this benefit, took more notice of his son, paid attention to his education, and that boy became the Duke of Lauderdale, afterwards so famous or infamous in his country's history.

The following very amusing anecdote, although it belongs more properly to the division on peculiarities of Scottish phraseology, I give in the words of a correspondent who received it from the parties with whom it originated. About twenty years ago, he was paying a visit to a cousin, married to a Liverpool merchant of some standing. The husband had lately had a visit from his aged father, who formerly followed the occupation of farming in Stirlings.h.i.+re, and who had probably never been out of Scotland before in his life. The son, finding his father rather _de trop_ in his office, one day persuaded him to cross the ferry over the Mersey, and inspect the harvesting, then in full operation, on the Ches.h.i.+re side. On landing, he approached a young woman reaping with the sickle in a field of oats, when the following dialogue ensued:--

_Farmer_.--La.s.sie, are yer aits muckle bookit[184] th' year?

_Reaper_.--What say'n yo?

_Farmer_.--I was speiring gif yer aits are muckle bookit th' year!

_Reaper_ (in amazement).--I dunnot know what yo' say'n.

_Farmer_ (in equal astonishment).--Gude--safe--us,--do ye no understaan gude plain English?--are--yer--aits--muckle--bookit?

Reaper decamps to her nearest companion, saying that was a madman, while he shouted in great wrath, "They were naething else than a set o'

ignorant pock-puddings."

An English tourist visited Arran, and being a keen disciple of Izaak Walton, was arranging to have a day's good sport. Being told that the cleg, or horse-fly, would suit his purpose admirably for lure, he addressed himself to Christy, the Highland servant-girl:--"I say, my girl, can you get me some horse-flies?" Christy looked stupid, and he repeated his question. Finding that she did not yet comprehend him, he exclaimed, "Why, girl, did you never see a horse-fly?" "Naa, sir," said the girl, "but A wance saw a coo jump ower a pres.h.i.+pice."

The following anecdote is highly ill.u.s.trative of the thoroughly attached old family serving-man. A correspondent sends it as told to him by an old schoolfellow of Sir Walter Scott's at Fraser and Adam's cla.s.s, High School:--

One of the lairds of Abercairnie proposed _to go out_, on the occasion of one of the risings for the Stuarts, in the '15 or '45--but this was not with the will of his old serving-man, who, when Abercairnie was pulling on his boots, preparing to go, overturned a kettle of boiling water upon his legs, so as to disable him from joining his friends--saying, "Tak that--let them fecht wha like; stay ye at hame and be laird o' Abercairnie."

A story ill.u.s.trative of a union of polite courtesy with rough and violent ebullition of temper common in the old Scottish character, is well known in the Lothian family. William Henry, fourth Marquis of Lothian, had for his guest at dinner an old countess to whom he wished to show particular respect and attention[185]. After a very complimentary reception, he put on his white gloves to hand her down stairs, led her up to the upper end of the table, bowed, and retired to his own place. This I am a.s.sured was the usual custom with the chief lady guest by persons who themselves remember it. After all were seated, the Marquis addressed the lady, "Madam, may I have the honour and happiness of helping your ladys.h.i.+p to some fish?" But he got no answer, for the poor woman was deaf as a post, and did not hear him. After a pause, but still in the most courteous accents, "Madam, have I your ladys.h.i.+p's permission to send you some fish?" Then a little quicker, "Is your Ladys.h.i.+p inclined to take fish?" Very quick, and rather peremptory, "Madam, do ye choice fish?" At last the thunder burst, to everybody's consternation, with a loud thump on the table and stamp on the floor: "Con--found ye, will ye have any fish?" I am afraid the exclamation might have been even of a more pungent character.

A correspondent has kindly enabled me to add a reminiscence and anecdote of a type of Scottish character now nearly extinct.--I mean the old Scottish _military_ officer of the wars of Holland and the Low Countries. I give them in his own words:--"My father, the late Rev. Dr.

Bethune, minister of Dornoch, was on friendly terms with a fine old soldier, the late Colonel Alexander Sutherland of Calmaly and Braegrudy, in Sutherlands.h.i.+re, who was lieutenant-colonel of the 'Local Militia,'

and who used occasionally, in his word of command, to break out with a Gaelic phrase to the men, much to the amus.e.m.e.nt of bystanders. He called his charger, a high-boned not overfed animal, Cadaver--a play upon accents, for he was a good cla.s.sical scholar, and fond of quoting the Latin poets. But he had no relish nor respect for the 'Modern languages,' particularly for that of our French neighbours, whom he looked upon as 'hereditary' enemies! My father and the colonel were both politicians, as well as scholars. Reading a newspaper article in his presence one day, my father stopped short, handing the paper to him, and said, 'Colonel, here is a _French_ quotation, which you can translate better than I can,' 'No, sir!' said the colonel, 'I never learnt the language of the scoundrels!!!' The colonel was known as 'Col. Sandy Sutherland,' and the men always called him _Colonel Sandy_. He was a splendid specimen of the hale veteran, with a stentorian voice, and the last queue I remember to have seen."

A correspondent kindly sends me from Aberdeens.h.i.+re a humorous story, very much of the same sort as that of Colonel Erskine's servant, who considerately suggested to his master that "maybe an aith might relieve him[186]." My correspondent heard the story from the late Bishop Skinner.

It was among the experiences of his father, Bishop _John_ Skinner. While making some pastoral visits in the neighbourhood of the town (Aberdeen), the Bishop took occasion to step into the cottage of two humble paris.h.i.+oners, a man and his wife, who cultivated a little croft. No one was within; but as the door was only on the latch, the Bishop knew that the worthy couple could not be far distant. He therefore stepped in the direction of the outhouses, and found them both in the barn winnowing corn, in the primitive way, with "riddles," betwixt two open doors. On the Bishop making his appearance, the honest man ceased his winnowing operations, and in the gladness of his heart stepped briskly forward to welcome his pastor; but in his haste he trod upon the rim of the riddle, which rebounded with great force against one of his s.h.i.+ns. The accident made him suddenly pull up; and, instead of completing the reception, he stood vigorously rubbing the injured limb; and, not daring in such a venerable presence to give vent to the customary strong e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns, kept twisting his face into all sorts of grimaces. As was natural, the Bishop went forward, uttering the usual formulas of condolence and sympathy, the patient, meanwhile, continuing his rubbings and his silent but expressive contortions. At last Janet came to the rescue; and, clapping the Bishop coaxingly on the back, said, "Noo, Bishop, jist gang ye yir waas into the hoose, an' we'll follow fan he's had time to curse a fyllie, an' I'se warran' he'll seen be weel eneuch!"

The following might have been added as examples of the dry humorous manner in which our countrymen and countrywomen sometimes treat matters with which they have to deal, even when serious ones:--

An itinerant vendor of wood in Aberdeen having been asked how his wife was, replied, "Oh, she's fine; I hae taen her tae Banchory;" and on it being innocently remarked that the change of air would do her good, he looked up, and, with a half smile, said, "Hoot, she's i' the kirk-yard."

The well-known aversion of the Scotch to hearing _read_ sermons has often led to amusing occurrences. One pastor, in a country district, who was much respected by his people, but who, nevertheless, were never quite reconciled to his _paper_ in the pulpit, found himself on one occasion in an awkward predicament, from this same paper question. One Sabbath afternoon, having exhausted both firstly and secondly, he came to the termination of his discourse; but, unfortunately, the ma.n.u.script was wanting. In vain efforts to seek the missing paper, he repeated "thirdly and lastly" _ad nauseam_ to his hearers. At last one, cooler than the others, rose, and nodding to the minister, observed, "'Deed, sir, If I'm no mista'en, I saw 'thirdly and lastly' fa' ower the p.o.o.pit stairs;" evidently enjoying the disappearance of so important a part of the obnoxious doc.u.ment.

This prejudice was indeed some years since in Scotland quite inveterate.

The following anecdote has been kindly sent to me from _Memoirs of Charles Young,_ lately published by his son:--

"I have a distinct recollection, one Sunday when I was living at Cults, and when a stranger was officiating for Dr. Gillespie, observing that he had not proceeded five minutes with his 'discourse,' before there was a general commotion and stampedo. The exodus at last became so serious, that, conceiving something to be wrong, probably a fire in the manse, I caught the infection, and eagerly inquired of the first person I encountered in the churchyard what was the matter, and was told, with an expression of sovereign scorn and disgust--'Losh keep ye, young man! Hae ye eyes, and see not? Hae ye ears, and hear not? _The man reads!_"

On one occasion, however, even this prejudice gave way before the power of the most eloquent preacher that Scotland ever heard, or perhaps that the world ever heard. A shrewd old Fife hearer of sermons had been objecting, in the usual exaggerated language, against reading sermons in the pulpit. A gentleman urged the case of Dr. Chalmers, in defence of the practice. He used his paper in preaching rigidly, and yet with what an effect he read! All the objector could reply to this was, "Ah, but it's _fell_[187] reading yon."

The two following are from a correspondent who heard them told by the late Dr. Barclay the anatomist, well known for his own dry Scottish humour.

A country laird, at his death, left his property in equal shares to his two sons, who continued to live very amicably together for many years.

At length one said to the other, "Tam, we're gettin' auld now, you'll tak a wife, and when I dee you'll get my share o' the grund." "Na, John, you're the youngest and maist active, you'll tak a wife, and when I dee you'll get my share." "Od," says John, "Tam, that's jist the way wi' you when there's ony _fash or trouble_. The deevil a thing you'll do at a'."

A country clergyman, who was not on the most friendly terms with one of his heritors who resided in Stirling, and who had annoyed the minister by delay in paying him his teinds (or t.i.the), found it necessary to make the laird understand that his proportion of stipend must be paid so soon as it became due. The payment came next term punctual to the time. When the messenger was introduced to the minister, he asked who he was, remarking that he thought he had seen him before. "I am the hangman of Stirling, sir." "Oh, just so, take a seat till I write you a receipt."

It was evident that the laird had chosen this medium of communication with the minister as an affront, and to show his spite. The minister, however, turned the tables upon him, sending back an acknowledgment for the payment in these terms:--"Received from Mr. ----, by the hands of the hangman of Stirling, _his doer_[188], the sum of," etc. etc.

The following story of pulpit criticism by a beadle used to be told, I am a.s.sured, by the late Rev. Dr. Andrew Thomson:--

A clergyman in the country had a stranger preaching for him one day, and meeting his beadle, he said to him, "Well, Saunders, how did you like the sermon to-day?" "I watna, sir; it was rather ower plain and simple for me. I like thae sermons best that jumbles the joodgment and confoonds the sense. Od, sir, I never saw ane that could come up to yoursell at that."

The epithet "canny" has frequently been applied to our countrymen, not in a severe or invidious spirit, but as indicating a due regard to personal interest and safety. In the larger edition of Jamieson (see edition of 1840) I find there are no fewer than eighteen meanings given of this word. The following extract from a provincial paper, which has been sent me, will furnish a good ill.u.s.tration. It is headed, the "PROPERTY QUALIFICATION," and goes on--"Give a chartist a large estate, and a copious supply of ready money, and you make a Conservative of him.

He can then see the other side of the moon, which he could never see before. Once, a determined Radical in Scotland, named Davy Armstrong, left his native village; and many years afterwards, an old fellow grumbler met him, and commenced the old song. Davy shook his head. His friend was astonished, and soon perceived that Davy was no longer a grumbler, but a rank Tory. Wondering at the change, he was desirous of knowing the reason. Davy quietly and laconically replied--'I've a coo (cow) noo.'"

But even still more "canny" was the eye to the main chance in an Aberdonian fellow-countryman, communicated in the following pleasant terms from a Nairn correspondent:--"I have just been reading your delightful 'Reminiscences,' which has brought to my recollection a story I used to hear my father tell. It was thus:--A countryman in a remote part of Aberdeens.h.i.+re having got a newly-coined sovereign in the days when such a thing was seldom seen in his part of the country, went about showing it to his friends and neighbours for the charge of one penny each sight. Evil days, however, unfortunately overtook him, and he was obliged to part with his loved coin. Soon after, a neighbour called on him, and asked a sight of his sovereign, at the same time tendering a penny. 'Ah, man,' says he, 'it's gane; but I'll lat ye see _the cloutie it was rowt in_ for a bawbee.'"

There was something very simple-minded in the manner in which a paris.h.i.+oner announced his canny care for his supposed interests when he became an elder of the kirk. The story is told of a man who had got himself installed in the elders.h.i.+p, and, in consequence, had for some time carried round the ladle for the collections. He had accepted the office of elder because some wag had made him believe that the remuneration was sixpence each Sunday, with a boll of meal at New Year's Day. When the time arrived he claimed his meal, but was told he had been hoaxed. "It may be sae wi' the meal," he said coolly, "but I took care o' the saxpence mysell."

There was a good deal both of the _pawky_ and the _canny_ in the following anecdote, which I have from an honoured lady of the south of Scotland:--"There was an old man who always rode a donkey to his work, and tethered him while he worked on the roads, or whatever else it might be. It was suggested to him by my grandfather that he was suspected of putting it in to feed in the fields at other people's expense. 'Eh, laird, I could never be tempted to do that, for my cuddy winna eat onything but nettles and thristles.' One day my grandfather was riding along the road, when he saw Andrew Leslie at work, and his donkey up to the knees in one of his clover fields, feeding luxuriously. 'Hollo, Andrew,' said he; 'I thought you told me your cuddy would eat nothing but nettles and thistles.' 'Ay,' said he, 'but he misbehaved the day; he nearly kicket me ower his head, sae I pat him in there just to _punish_ him.'"

There is a good deal of the same sort of simple character brought out in the two following. They were sent to me from Golspie, and are original, as they occurred in my correspondent's own experience. The one is a capital ill.u.s.tration of thrift, the other of kind feeling for the friendless, in the Highland character. I give the anecdotes in my correspondent's own words:--A little boy, some twelve years of age, came to me one day with the following message: "My mother wants a vomit from you, sir, and she bade me say if it will not be strong enough, she will send it back." "Oh, Mr. Begg," said a woman to me, for whom I was weighing two grains of calomel for a child, "dinna be so mean wi' it; it is for a poor faitherless bairn."

The following, from a provincial paper, contains a very amusing recognition of a return which one of the itinerant race considered himself conscientiously bound to make to his clerical patron for an alms: "A beggar, while on his rounds one day this week, called on a clergyman (within two and a half miles of the Cross of Kilmarnock), who, obeying the biblical injunction of clothing the naked, offered the beggar an old top-coat. It was immediately rolled up, and the beggar, in going away with it under his arm, thoughtfully (!) remarked, 'I'll hae tae gie ye a day's _hearin_' for this na.'"

The natural and self-complacent manner in which the following anecdote brings out in the Highlander an innate sense of the superiority of Celtic blood is highly characteristic:--A few years ago, when an English family were visiting in the Highlands, their attention was directed to a child crying; on their observing to the mother it was _cross_, she exclaimed--"Na, na, it's nae cross, for we're baith true Hieland."

The late Mr. Grahame of Garsock, in Strathearn, whose grandson now "is laird himsel," used to tell, with great _unction_, some thirty years ago, a story of a neighbour of his own of a still earlier generation, Drummond of Keltie, who, as it seems, had employed an itinerant tailor instead of a metropolitan artist. On one occasion a new pair of inexpressibles had been made for the laird; they were so tight that, after waxing hot and red in the attempt to try them on, he _let out_ rather savagely at the tailor, who calmly a.s.sured him, "It's the fash'n; it's jist the fash'n." "Eh, ye haveril, is it the fas.h.i.+on for them _no to go on_?"

An English gentleman writes to me--"We have all heard much of Scotch caution, and I met once with an instance of it which I think is worth recording, and which I tell as strictly original. About 1827, I fell into conversation, on board of a Stirling steamer, with a well-dressed middle-aged man, who told me he was a soldier of the 42d, going on leave. He began to relate the campaigns he had gone through, and mentioned having been at the siege of St. Sebastian.--'Ah! under Sir Thomas Graham?' 'Yes, sir; he commanded there.' 'Well,' I said, merely by way of carrying on the _crack_, 'and what do you think of _him_?'

Instead of answering, he scanned me several times from head to foot, and from foot to head, and then said, in a tone of the most diplomatic caution, 'Ye'll perhaps be of the name of Grah'm yersel, sir?' There could hardly be a better example, either of the circ.u.mspection of a real canny Scot, or of the lingering influence of the old patriarchal feeling, by which 'A name, a word, makes clansmen va.s.sals to their lord.'"

Now when we linger over these old stories, we seem to live at another period, and in such reminiscences we converse with a generation different from our own. Changes are still going on around us. They have been going on for some time past. The changes are less striking as society advances, and we find fewer alterations for us to notice.

Probably each generation will have less change to record than the generation that preceded; still every one who is tolerably advanced in life must feel that, comparing its beginning and its close, he has witnessed two epochs, and that in advanced life he looks on a different world from one which he can remember. To elucidate this fact has been my present object, and in attempting this task I cannot but feel how trifling and unsatisfactory my remarks must seem to many who have a more enlarged and minute acquaintance with Scottish life and manners than I have. But I shall be encouraged to hope for a favourable, or at least an indulgent, sentence upon these Reminiscences, if to any of my readers I shall have opened a fresh insight into the subject of social changes amongst us. Many causes have their effect upon the habits and customs of mankind, and of late years such causes have been greatly multiplied in number and activity. In many persons, and in some who have not altogether lost their national partialities, there is a general tendency to merge Scottish usages and Scottish expressions into the English forms, as being more correct and genteel. The facilities for moving, not merely from place to place in our own country, but from one country to another; the spread of knowledge and information by means of periodical publications and newspapers; and the incredibly low prices at which literary works are produced, must have great effects. Then there is the improved taste in art, which, together with literature, has been taken up by young men who, fifty, sixty, seventy years ago, or more, would have known no such sources of interest, or indeed who would have looked upon them as unmanly and effeminate. When first these pursuits were taken up by our Scottish young men, they excited in the north much amazement, and, I fear, contempt, as was evinced by a laird of the old school, who, the first time he saw a young man at the pianoforte, asked, with evident disgust, "Can the creature _sew_ ony?" evidently putting the accomplishment of playing the pianoforte and the accomplishment of the needle in the same category.