younger than herself, was a curious compound of the deference of a servant and the familiarity and affection of a sister.  She had known him as a boy, lad, man, and old man, and she seemed to have a sort of notion that without her he must be a very helpless being indeed.  ’I aye keepit the hoose for him, whether he was hame or awa’,’ was a frequent utterance of hers; and she never seemed to think the intrusion even of his own nieces, who latterly lived with him, at all legitimate.  When on her deathbed, he hobbled to her room with difficulty, having just got over a severe attack of gout, to bid her farewell.  I chanced to be present, but was too young to remember what passed, except one thing, which probably was rather recalled to me afterwards than properly recollected by me.  It was her last request.  ‘Laird,’ said she (for so she always called him, though his lairdship was of the smallest), ’will ye tell them to bury me whaur I’ll lie across at your feet?’ I have always thought this characteristic of the old Scotch servant, and as such I send it to you.”

And here I would introduce another story which struck me very forcibly as illustrating the union of the qualities referred to by Dr. Alexander.  In the following narrative, how deep and tender a feeling is expressed in a brief dry sentence!  I give Mr. Scott’s language[43]:—­“My brother and I were, during our High School vacation, some forty years ago, very much indebted to the kindness of a clever young carpenter employed in the machinery workshop of New Lanark Mills, near to which we were residing during our six weeks’ holidays.”  It was he—­Samuel Shaw, our dear companion—­who first taught us to saw, and to plane, and to turn too; and who made us the bows and arrows in which we so much delighted.  The vacation over, and our hearts very sore, but bound to Samuel Shaw for ever, our mother sought to place some pecuniary recompense in his hand at parting, for all the great kindness he had shown her boys.  Samuel looked in her face, and gently moving her hand aside, with an affectionate look cast upon us, who were by, exclaimed, in a tone which had sorrow in it, “Noo, Mrs. Scott, ye hae spoilt a’.”  After such an appeal, it may be supposed no recompense, in silver or in gold, remained with Samuel Shaw.

On the subject of the old Scottish domestic, I have to acknowledge a kind communication from Lord Kinloch, which I give in his Lordship’s words:—­“My father had been in the counting-house of the well-known David Dale, the founder of the Lanark Mills, and eminent for his benevolence.  Mr. Dale, who it would appear was a short stout man, had a person in his employment named Matthew, who was permitted that familiarity with his master which was so characteristic of the former generation.  One winter day Mr. Dale came into the counting-house, and complained that he had fallen on the ice.  Matthew, who saw that his master was not much hurt, grinned a sarcastic smile.  ’I fell all my length,’ said Mr. Dale.