His mode of travelling was on horseback.  He scorned carriages, on the ground of its being unmanly to “sit in a box drawn by brutes.”  When he went to London he rode the whole way.  At the same period, Mr. Barclay of Ury (father of the well-known Captain Barclay), when he represented Kincardineshire in Parliament, always walked to London.  He was a very powerful man, and could walk fifty miles a day, his usual refreshment on the road being a bottle of port wine, poured into a bowl, and drunk off at a draught.  I have heard that George III. was much interested at these performances, and said, “I ought to be proud of my Scottish subjects, when my judges ride, and my members of Parliament walk to the metropolis.”

On one occasion of his being in London, Lord Monboddo attended a trial in the Court of King’s Bench.  A cry was heard that the roof of the court-room was giving way, upon which judges, lawyers, and people made a rush to get to the door.  Lord Monboddo viewed the scene from his corner with much composure.  Being deaf and short-sighted, he knew nothing of the cause of the tumult.  The alarm proved a false one; and on being asked why he had not bestirred himself to escape like the rest, he coolly answered that he supposed it was an annual ceremony, with which, as an alien to the English laws, he had no concern, but which he considered it interesting to witness as a remnant of antiquity!  Lord Monboddo died 1799.

Lord Rockville (the Hon. Alexander Gordon, third son of the Earl of Aberdeen) was a judge distinguished in his day by his ability and decorum.  “He adorned the bench by the dignified manliness of his appearance, and polished urbanity of his manners[46].”  Like most lawyers of his time, he took his glass freely, and a whimsical account which he gave, before he was advanced to the bench, of his having fallen upon his face, after making too free with the bottle, was commonly current at the time.  Upon his appearing late at a convivial club with a most rueful expression of countenance, and on being asked what was the matter, he exclaimed with great solemnity, “Gentlemen, I have just met with the most extraordinary adventure that ever occurred to a human being.  As I was walking along the Grassmarket, all of a sudden the street rose up and struck me on the face.”  He had, however, a more serious encounter with the street after he was a judge.  In 1792, his foot slipped as he was going to the Parliament House; he broke his leg, was taken home, fevered, and died.

Lord Braxfield (Robert M’Queen of Braxfield) was one of the judges of the old school, well known in his day, and might be said to possess all the qualities united, by which the class were remarkable.  He spoke the broadest Scotch.  He was a sound and laborious lawyer.  He was fond of a glass of good claret, and had a great fund of good Scotch humour.  He rose to the dignity of Justice-Clerk, and, in consequence,