In the Highlands this sort of feeling extended to an almost incredible extent, even so much as to obscure the moral and religious sentiments.  Of this a striking proof was afforded in a circumstance which took place in my own church soon after I came into it.  One of our Gaelic clergy had so far forgotten himself as to appear in the church somewhat the worse of liquor.  This having happened so often as to come to the ears of the bishop, he suspended him from the performance of divine service.  Against this decision the people were a little disposed to rebel, because, according to their Highland notions, “a gentleman was no the waur for being able to tak’ a gude glass o’ whisky.”  These were the notions of a people in whose eyes the power of swallowing whisky conferred distinction, and with whom inability to take the fitting quantity was a mark of a mean and futile character.  Sad to tell, the funeral rites of Highland chieftains were not supposed to have been duly celebrated except there was an immoderate and often fatal consumption of whisky.  It has been related that at the last funeral in the Highlands, conducted according to the traditions of the olden times, several of the guests fell victims to the usage, and actually died of the excesses.

This phase of old and happily almost obsolete Scottish intemperance at funeral solemnities must have been peculiarly revolting.  Instances of this horrid practice being carried to a great extent are traditionary in every part of the country.  I am assured of the truth of the following anecdote by a son of the gentleman who acted as chief mourner on the occasion:—­About seventy years ago an old maiden lady died in Strathspey.  Just previous to her death she sent for her grand-nephew, and said to him, “Wily, I’m deein’, and as ye’ll hae the charge o’ a’ I have, mind now that as much whisky is to be used at my funeral as there was at my baptism.”  Willy neglected to ask the old lady what the quantity of whisky used at the baptism was, but when the day of the funeral arrived believed her orders would be best fulfilled by allowing each guest to drink as much as he pleased.  The churchyard where the body was to be deposited was about ten miles distant from where the death occurred.  It was a short day in November, and when the funeral party came to the churchyard the shades of night had considerably closed in.  The grave-digger, whose patience had been exhausted in waiting, was not in the least willing to accept of Captain G——­’s (the chief mourner) apology for delay.  After looking about him he put the anxious question, “But, Captain, whaur’s Miss Ketty?” The reply was, “In her coffin, to be sure, and get it into the earth as fast as you can.”  There, however, was no coffin; the procession had sojourned at a country inn by the way—­had rested the body on a dyke—­started without it—­and had to postpone the interment until next day.  My correspondent very justly adds the remark, “What would be thought of indulgence in drinking habits now that could lead to such a result?”