an unpopular laird.  In the neighbourhood of Banff, in Forfarshire, the seat of a very ancient branch of the Ramsays, lived a proprietor who bore the appellation of Corb, from the name of his estate.  This family has passed away, and its property merged in Banff.  The laird was intensely disliked in the neighbourhood.  Sir George Ramsay was, on the other hand, universally popular and respected.  On one occasion, Sir George, in passing a morass in his own neighbourhood, had missed the road and fallen into a bog to an alarming depth.  To his great relief, he saw a passenger coming along the path, which was at no great distance.  He called loudly for his help, but the man took no notice.  Poor Sir George felt himself sinking, and redoubled his cries for assistance; all at once the passenger rushed forward, carefully extricated him from his perilous position, and politely apologised for his first neglect of his appeal, adding, as his reason, “Indeed, Sir George, I thought it was Corb!” evidently meaning that had it been Corb, he must have taken his chance for him.

In Lanarkshire there lived a sma’ sma’ laird named Hamilton, who was noted for his eccentricity.  On one occasion, a neighbour waited on him, and requested his name as an accommodation to a “bit bill” for twenty pounds at three months’ date, which led to the following characteristic and truly Scottish colloquy:—­“Na, na, I canna do that.”  “What for no, laird? ye hae dune the same thing for ithers.”  “Ay, ay, Tammas, but there’s wheels within wheels ye ken naething about; I canna do’t.”  “It’s a sma’ affair to refuse me, laird.”  “Weel, ye see, Tammas, if I was to pit my name till’t, ye wad get the siller frae the bank, and when the time came round, ye wadna be ready, and I wad hae to pay’t; sae then you and me wad quarrel; sae we may just as weel quarrel the noo, as lang’s the siller’s in ma pouch.”  On one occasion, Hamilton having business with the late Duke of Hamilton at Hamilton Palace, the Duke politely asked him to lunch.  A liveried servant waited upon them, and was most assiduous in his attentions to the Duke and his guest.  At last our eccentric friend lost patience, and looking at the servant, addressed him thus, “What the deil for are ye dance, dancing, about the room that gait? can ye no draw in your chair and sit down?  I’m sure there’s plenty on the table for three.”

As a specimen of the old-fashioned Laird, now become a Reminiscence, who adhered pertinaciously to old Scottish usages, and to the old Scottish dialect, I cannot, I am sure, adduce a better specimen than Mr. Fergusson of Pitfour, to whose servant I have already referred.  He was always called Pitfour, from the name of his property in Aberdeenshire.  He must have died fifty years ago.  He was for many years M.P. for the county of Aberdeen, and I have reason to believe that he made the enlightened parliamentary declaration which has been given to others:  He said “he had often heard speeches in the