The following anecdote from the west exhibits a curious confusion of ideas arising from the old-fashioned prejudice against Frenchmen and their language, which existed in the last generation.  During the long French war, two old ladies in Stranraer were going to the kirk; the one said to the other, “Was it no a wonderfu’ thing that the Breetish were aye victorious ower the French in battle?” “Not a bit,” said the other old lady; “dinna ye ken the Breetish aye say their prayers before ga’in into battle?” The other replied, “But canna the French say their prayers as weel?” The reply was most characteristic, “Hoot! jabbering bodies, wha could understan’ them?”

Some of these ladies, as belonging to the old county families, had very high notions of their own importance, and a great idea of their difference from the burgher families of the town.  I am assured of the truth of the following naive specimen of such family pride:—­One of the olden maiden ladies of Montrose called one day on some ladies of one of the families in the neighbourhood, and on being questioned as to the news of the town, said, “News! oh, Bailie——­’s eldest son is to be married.”  “And pray,” was the reply, “and pray, Miss ——­, an’ fa’ ever heard o’ a merchant i’ the toon o’ Montrose ha’in an eldest son?” The good lady thought that any privilege of primogeniture belonged only to the family of laird.

It is a dangerous experiment to try passing off ungrounded claims upon characters of this description.  Many a clever sarcastic reply is on record from Scottish ladies, directed against those who wished to impose upon them some false sentiment.  I often think of the remark of the outspoken ancient lady, who, when told by her pastor, of whose disinterestedness in his charge she was not quite sure, that he “had a call from his Lord and Master to go,” replied—­“’Deed, sir, the Lord micht hae ca’ed and ca’ed to ye lang eneuch to Ouchtertoul (a very small stipend), and ye’d ne’er hae letten on that ye heard him.”

At the beginning of this century, when the fear of invasion was rife, it was proposed to mount a small battery at the water-mouth by subscription, and Miss Carnegy was waited on by a deputation from the town-council.  One of them having addressed her on the subject, she heard him with some impatience, and when he had finished, she said, “Are ye ane o’ the toon-cooncil.”  He replied, “I have that honour, ma’am.”  To which she rejoined, “Ye may hae that profit, but honour ye hae nane;” and then to the point, she added, “But I’ve been tell’t that ae day’s wark o’ twa or three men wad mount the cannon, and that it may be a’ dune for twenty shillings; now there’s twa punds to ye.”  The councillor pocketed the money and withdrew.  On one occasion, as she sat in an easy chair, having assumed the habits and privileges of age, Mr. Mollison, the minister of the Established Kirk, called on her to solicit for some charity.  She did not like being asked for money, and, from her Jacobite principles, she certainly did not respect the Presbyterian Kirk.  When he came in she made an inclination of the head, and he said, “Don’t get up, madam.”  She replied, “Get up!  I wadna rise out o’ my chair for King George himsell, let abee a whig minister.”