I had from a relative or intimate friend of two sisters of this school, well known about Glasgow, an odd account of what it seems, from their own statement, had passed between them at a country house, where they had attended a sale by auction.  As the business of the day went on, a dozen of silver spoons had to be disposed of; and before they were put up for competition, they were, according to the usual custom, handed round for inspection to the company.  When returned into the hands of the auctioneer, he found only eleven.  In great wrath, he ordered the door to be shut, that no one might escape, and insisted on every one present being searched to discover the delinquent.  One of the sisters, in consternation, whispered to the other, “Esther, ye hae nae gotten the spune?” to which she replied, “Na; but I hae gotten Mrs. Siddons in my pocket.”  She had been struck by a miniature of the great actress, and had quietly pocketed it.  The cautious reply of the sister was, “Then just drop her, Esther.”  One of the sisterhood, a connection of my own, had much of this dry Scottish humour.  She had a lodging in the house of a respectable grocer; and on her niece most innocently asking, “if she was not very fond of her landlord,” in reference to the excellence of her apartments and the attention he paid to her comfort, she demurred to the question on the score of its propriety, by replying, “Fond of my landlord! that would be an unaccountable fondness.”

An amusing account was given of an interview and conversation between this lady and the provost of Montrose.  She had demurred at paying some municipal tax with which she had been charged, and the provost, anxious to prevent her getting into difficulty on the subject, kindly called to convince her of the fairness of the claim, and the necessity of paying it.  In his explanation he referred back to his own bachelor days when a similar payment had been required from him.  “I assure you, ma’am,” he said, “when I was in your situation I was called upon in a similar way for this tax;” to which she replied, in quiet scorn, “In my situation! an’ whan were ye in my situation?—­an’ auld maid leevin’ in a flat wi’ an ae lass.”  But the complaints of such imposts were urged in a very humorous manner by another Montrose old lady, Miss Helen Carnegy of Craigo; she hated paying taxes, and always pretended to misunderstand their nature.  One day, receiving a notice of such payment signed by the provost (Thorn), she broke out:  “I dinna understand thae taxes; but I just think that when Mrs. Thorn wants a new gown, the provost sends me a tax paper!” The good lady’s naive rejection of the idea that she could be in any sense “fond of her landlord,” already referred to, was somewhat in unison with a similar feeling recorded to have been expressed by the late Mr. Wilson, the celebrated Scottish vocalist.  He was taking lessons from the late Mr. Finlay Dun, one of the most accomplished musicians of the day.  Mr. Dun had