she was looking for the proper spoon to help herself with salt.  The old servant, Thomas, was appealed to, that the want might be supplied.  He did not notice the appeal.  It was repeated in a more peremptory manner, “Thomas, Mrs. Murray has not a salt-spoon!” to which he replied most emphatically, “Last time Mrs. Murray dined here we lost a salt-spoon.”  An old servant who took a similar charge of everything that went on in the family, having observed that his master thought that he had drunk wine with every lady at table, but had overlooked one, jogged his memory with the question, “What ails ye at her wi’ the green gown?”

In my own family I know a case of a very long service, and where, no doubt, there was much interest and attachment; but it was a case where the temper had not softened under the influence of years, but had rather assumed that form of disposition which we denominate crusty.  My grand-uncle, Sir A. Ramsay, died in 1806, and left a domestic who had been in his service since he was ten years of age; and being at the time of his master’s death past fifty or well on to sixty, he must have been more than forty years a servant in the family.  From the retired life my grand-uncle had been leading, Jamie Layal had much of his own way, and, like many a domestic so situated, he did not like to be contradicted, and, in fact, could not bear to be found fault with.  My uncle, who had succeeded to a part of my grand-uncle’s property, succeeded also to Jamie Layal, and, from respect to his late master’s memory and Jamie’s own services, he took him into his house, intending him to act as house servant.  However, this did not answer, and he was soon kept on, more with the form than the reality of any active duty, and took any light work that was going on about the house.  In this capacity it was his daily task to feed a flock of turkeys which were growing up to maturity.  On one occasion, my aunt having followed him in his work, and having observed such a waste of food that the ground was actually covered with grain which they could not eat, and which would soon be destroyed and lost, naturally remonstrated, and suggested a more reasonable and provident supply.  But all the answer she got from the offended Jamie was a bitter rejoinder, “Weel, then, neist time they sall get nane ava!” On another occasion a family from a distance had called whilst my uncle and aunt were out of the house.  Jamie came into the parlour to deliver the cards, or to announce that they had called.  My aunt, somewhat vexed at not having been in the way, inquired what message Mr. and Mrs. Innes had left, as she had expected one.  “No; no message.”  She returned to the charge, and asked again if they had not told him anything he was to repeat.  Still, “No; no message.”  “But did they say nothing?  Are you sure they said nothing?” Jamie, sadly put out and offended at being thus interrogated, at last burst forth, “They neither said ba nor bum,”