you ony shares in it, Sandy?" said one.
"Na, na," said Sandy. "I've left off speculation since my wife took to wearing crinolines; I canna afford it noo."
"Fat d'ye think of the rinderpest, Sandy?"
"Weel, I'm thinking that if my coo tak's it, Tibbie an' me winna ha' muckle milk to our tay."
The knotty question of predestination came up and could not be settled. When the train stopped at the next station, Sandy said: "Bide a wee, there's a doctor o' deveenity in one o' the first-class carriages. I'll gang and ask him fat he thinks aboot it." And out Sandy got to consult the doctor. We could hear him parleying with the eminent divine over the carriage door, and presently he came running back, just as the train was starting, and was bundled in, neck and crop, by the guard.
"Weel, Sandy," said his oppugner on the predestination question, "did the doctor o' deveenity gie you his opinion?"
"Ay, did he."
"An' fat did he say aboot it?"
"Weel, he just said he dinna ken an' he dinna care."
The notion of a D.D. neither kenning nor caring about the highly important doctrine of predestination, so tickled the fancy of the company that they went into fits of laughter. [38]
Double Meanings
A well-known idiot, named Jamie Frazer, belonging to the parish of Lunan, in Forfarshire, quite surprised people sometimes by his replies. The congregation of his parish had for some time distressed the minister by their habit of sleeping in church. He had often endeavored to impress them with a sense of the impropriety of such conduct, and one day when Jamie was sitting in the front gallery wide awake, when many were slumbering round him, the clergyman endeavored to awaken the attention of his hearers by stating the fact, saying: "You see even Jamie Frazer, the idiot, does not fall asleep as so many of you are doing." Jamie not liking, perhaps, to be designated, coolly replied, "An' I hadna been an idiot I wad ha' been sleepin', too." [7]
Another imbecile of Peebles had been sitting in church for some time listening to a vigorous declamation from the pulpit against deceit and falsehood. He was observed to turn red and grow uneasy, until at last, as if wincing under the supposed attack upon himself personally, he roared out: "Indeed, meenister, there's mair leears in Peebles than me." [7]
A minister, who had been all day visiting, called on an old dame, well known for her kindness of heart and hospitality, and begged the favor of a cup of tea. This was heartily accorded, and the old woman bustled about, getting out the best china and whatever rural delicacies were at hand to honor her unexpected guest. As the minister sat watching these preparations, his eye fell on four or five cats devouring cold porridge under the table.
"Dear me! what a number of cats," he observed. "Do they all belong to you, Mrs. Black?"
"No, sir," replied his hostess innocently; "but as I often say, a' the hungry brutes i' the country side come to me seekin' a meal o' meat."
The minister was rather at a loss for a reply.
Scotch "Fashion"
The following story, told in the "Scotch Reminiscences" of Dean Ramsay, is not without its point at the present day: "On a certain 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 assured him, 'It's the fashion – it's the fashion.'
"'Eh, ye haveril, is it the fashion for them no' to go on?'" [7]
Wattie Dunlop's Sympathy for Orphans
Many anecdotes of pithy and facetious replies are recorded of a minister of the South, usually distinguished as "Our Wattie Dunlop." On one occasion two irreverent young fellows determined, as they said, to "taigle" (confound) the minister. Coming up to him in the High Street of Dumfries, they accosted him with much solemnity: "Maister Dunlop, hae ye heard the news?" "What news?" "Oh, the deil's dead." "Is he?" said Mr. Dunlop, "then I maun pray for twa faitherless bairns." [7]
Highland Happiness
Sir Walter Scott, in one of his novels, gives expression to the height of a Highlander's happiness: Twenty-four bagpipes assembled together in a small room, all playing at the same time different tunes. [23]
Plain Scotch
Mr. John Clerk (afterwards Lord Eldon), in pleading before the House of Lords one day, happened to say in his broadest Scotch accent: "In plain English, ma lords."
Upon which a noble lord jocosely remarked: "In plain Scotch, you mean, Mr. Clerk."
The prompt advocate instantly rejoined: "Nae matter! in plain common sense, ma lords, and that's the same in a' languages, ye'll ken."
Caring for Their Minister
A minister was called in to see a man who was very ill. After finishing his visit, as he was leaving the house, he said to the man's wife: "My good woman, do you not go to any church at all?"
"Oh yes, sir; we gang to the Barony Kirk."
"Then why in the world did you send for me? Why didn't you send for Dr. Macleod?"
"Na, na, sir, 'deed no; we wadna risk him. Do ye no ken it's a dangerous case of typhus?"
Three Sisters All One Age
A Highland census taker contributed the following story to Chambers': I had a bad job with the Miss M'Farlanes. They are three maiden ladies – sisters. It seems the one would not trust the other to see the census paper filled up; so they agreed to bring it to me to fill in.
"Would you kindly fill in this census paper for us?" said Miss M'Farlane. "My sisters will look over and give you their particulars by and by."
Now, Miss M'Farlane is a very nice lady; though Mrs. Cameron tells me she has been calling very often at the manse since the minister lost his wife. Be that as it may, I said to her that I would be happy to fill up the paper; and asked her in the meantime to give me her own particulars. When it came to the age column, she played with her boot on the carpet, and drew the black ribbons of her silk bag through her fingers, and whispered: "You can say four-and-thirty, Mr. M'Lauchlin." "All right, ma'am," says I; for I knew she was four-and-thirty at any rate. Then Miss Susan came over – that's the second sister – really a handsome young creature, with fine ringlets and curls, though she is a little tender-eyed, and wears spectacles.
Well, when we came to the age column, Miss Susan played with one of her ringlets, and looked in my face sweetly, and said: "Mr. M'Lauchlin, what did Miss M'Farlane say? My sister, you know, is considerably older than I am – there was a brother between us."
"Quite so, my dear Miss Susan," said I; "but you see the bargain was that each was to state her own age."
"Well," said Miss Susan, still playing with her ringlets, "you can say – age, thirty-four years, Mr. M'Lauchlin."
In a little while the youngest sister came in.
"Miss M'Farlane," said she, "sent me over for the census paper."
"O, no, my dear," says I; "I cannot part with the paper."
"Well, then," said she, "just enter my name, too, Mr. M'Lauchlin."
"Quite so. But tell me, Miss Robina, why did Miss M'Farlane not fill up the paper herself?" – for Miss Robina and I were always on very confidential terms.
"Oh," she replied, "there was a dispute over particulars; and Miss M'Farlane would not let my other sister see how old she had said she was; and Miss Susan refused to state her age to Miss M'Farlane; and so, to end the quarrel, we agreed to ask you to be so kind as to fill in the paper."
"Yes, yes, Miss Robina," said I; "that's quite satisfactory; and so,