A few Scotch and English travellers being met together, an Englishman took it upon him to run down the Thistle, exclaimed against the empty boast of its motto, "Nemo me impune lacessit," when a Scotchman present observed, "The Thistle, sir, is the pride of the Scotish nation, but it is nothing in the mouth of an a.s.s."

_Cold Gentleman._

In the west of Scotland, some time ago, there happened to be an auction of books. A book-buyer who attended the sale, was summoned by his son to supper, according to the directions of his mother. The boy flurried by the presence of the audience, and in his attempt to be as explicit as possible, thus cried out, "Fayther, yer parritch is ready." "Very well, my dear," said the father, and at the door gave him a salute _a posteriori_, which was repeated with the following injunction--"Recollect rascal, when you come again, to say _a gentleman_ wants me." Next evening up comes the boy according to direction. "Is my Fayther here?" "Yes,"

said the father. "_A gentleman_ wants ye." "Very well, my man," was repeated by the boy's parent; but little time elapsed when the boy returned; "What now, my man," said the old book worm. "Oh naething,"

said his son, "but gin ye dinna rin fast _the gentleman_ will be quite cauld."

_Dougal Graham._

Dougal Graham, author of the well-known metrical history of the rebellion in 1745, being candidate for the place of town bellman in the City of Glasgow, was desired to call "Gude fresh herrings new come in at the Broomielaw." It not being the season for herrings, Dougal added,

"But, indeed, my friends, it's a blaeflum,

"For the herrings no catch'd, and the boats no come," which procured for Dougal the situation.

Dougal was a kind of Scotch aesop, he had a large humph on one of his shoulders, and like his patrotype had wit. Calling in the street of the Gallowgate, opposite the Saracen's Head Inn, where several officers of the gallant 42d regiment were dining, at the close of the American war, some of whom knew Dougal before they went abroad, opening the window, called out, "What's that you've got on your back, Dougal?" Knowing what the regiment suffered at Bunker's Hill, Dougal replied, "It's _Bunker's Hill_; do you choose to mount?"

_A New Way to Wauken Sleepers in Church._

Mr. Ogilvie, minister of the parish of Lunan in the county of Forfar, had a great deal of eccentricity in his composition. One Sunday an old woman, who kept a public-house in the parish, with whom Mr. Ogilvie was well acquainted, fell asleep in the church during sermon--not an uncommon occurrence. Her neighbour kept jogging in order to awake her.

Mr. Ogilvie observing this, cried out, "Let her alane, I'll wauken her mysel', I'll warrant ye." "Phew! Phew! (_whistling_) a bottle o' ale and a dram, Janet." "Comin', sir," was instantly replied. "There now," says the minister, "I tald ye it wadna be lang afore I waken'd her."

_Sage Instruction._

A labouring Highlandman, who lived in the upper parts of Perthshire, whose wife was taken in labour, wished him to retire out of the house.

Janet says to him--"Oh! you be gang awa', Duncan, gang awa'!" The man, however, kept loitering about the door, seemingly impressed with something of great importance. At last he cries to his wife, "You speak a me, Shanet! you speak a me." The wife asks, "What you say, Duncan?"

"Gie the c.u.mmer (the midwife) a dram, Shanet, gie the c.u.mmer a dram!"

"What for Duncan?" "Gie the c.u.mmer a dram, Shanet, an' tell _him to make her a laddie_."

_The Purse and the Penny Siller._

Three young Highlanders, some years ago, set out from their native hills, to seek a livelihood amongst their countrymen in the Lowlands.

They had hardly learned any English. One of them could say, "We three Highlandmen;" the second, "For the purse and the penny siller;" and the third had properly learned, "And our just right too;" intending thus to explain the motives o' their journey. They trudged along, when, in a lonely glen, they saw the body of a man who had been recently murdered.

The Highlanders stopped to deplore the fate of the unhappy mortal, when a gentleman with his servant came up to the spot. "Who murdered this poor man?" said the gentleman, "We three Highlandmen," answered the eldest of the brothers (thinking the gentleman inquired who they were).

"What could induce you to commit so horrid a crime?" continued the gentleman. "The Purse and the Penny Siller," replied the second of the travellers. "You shall be hanged, you miscreants!" "And our just right too," returned the third. The poor men were thus brought to the gallows on their own evidence, and presumption of guilt.

_Lump of Old Wood._

An aged man, named Thomas Wood, sitting on a high three-footed stool in the gallery of the old Church of Falkirk, during divine service happened to fall asleep, tumbled on the floor with a great noise. The preacher stopped and demanded the reason of the noise. "Nothing, sir," cries a wag, "but a lump of Old Wood fallen down."

_The Great Want._

A female pauper lately made a very strong and forcible appeal to the elders and heritors of a certain parish, for an advance of 4s. 6d. Some one of the grave quorum inquired what made her so urgent on this occasion, when she had lately got a supply of coals, shoes, etc. To this she replied, "Why, deed, sirs, it's just to buy a pair o' corsets to my daughter Tibbie, ilk la.s.s that's ocht respectable has them but hersel', so ye see she canna do wantin them, an' ye maun e'en let me ha't sirs."

_The Devil Defined._

The Rev. Mr. Shirra, burgher minister in Kirkcaldy, once gave the following curious definition of the devil:--"The devil, my brethren, is ill ony way ye'll tak him. Tak' the D from his name, he's _evil_; tak'

the E from his name, he's _vil_; tak' the V from his name, he's _il_;"

then shrugging up his shoulders, and lengthening his sanctified snout, he said with peculiar emphasis, "He's naething but an _il_, _vil_, _evil_, Devil, ony way ye'll tak' him!"

_Mark me Well._

A gentleman having missed his way, fortunately met a boy going with a pot of tar to mark his master's sheep, asked the road to Banff, but was directing by so many turnings, right and left, that he agreed to take the boy behind him on the horse as he was going near to the same place.

Finding the boy pert and docile, he gave him some wholesome advice relative to his future conduct, adding occasionally, "Mark me well, my boy." "Yes, sir, I do." He repeated the injunction so often, that the boy at last cried out, "Sir, I have no more tar!"

_Death of a Watch._

After the battle of Falkirk, in 1746, a Highlandman was observed extracting a gold watch from the fob of an English officer, who had been killed. His comrade viewed him with a greedy eye, which the man taking notice of said to him, "Tamn you gapin' greedy b.i.t.c.h, gang and shoot a shentleman for hersel', an' no envie me o' my pit watch."