The following is rather an original commentary, by a layman, upon clerical incomes:—­A relative of mine going to church with a Forfarshire farmer, one of the old school, asked him the amount of the minister’s stipend.  He said, “Od, it’s a gude ane—­the maist part of L300 a year.”  “Well,” said my relative, “many of these Scotch ministers are but poorly off.”  “They’ve eneuch, sir, they’ve eneuch; if they’d mair, it would want a’ their time to the spendin’ o’t.”

Scotch gamekeepers had often much dry quiet humour.  I was much amused by the answer of one of those under the following circumstances:—­An Ayrshire gentleman, who was from the first a very bad shot, or rather no shot at all, when out on 1st of September, having failed, time after time, in bringing down a single bird, had at last pointed out to him by his attendant bag-carrier a large covey, thick and close on the stubbles.  “Noo, Mr. Jeems, let drive at them, just as they are!” Mr. Jeems did let drive, as advised, but not a feather remained to testify the shot.  All flew off, safe and sound—­“Hech, sir (remarks his friend), but ye’ve made thae yins shift their quarters.”

The two following anecdotes of rejoinders from Scottish guidwives, and for which I am indebted, as for many other kind communications, to the Rev. Mr. Blair of Dunblane, appear to me as good examples of the peculiar Scottish pithy phraseology which we refer to, as any that I have met with.

An old lady from whom the “Great Unknown” had derived many an ancient tale, was waited upon one day by the author of “Waverley.”  On his endeavouring to give the authorship the go-by, the old dame protested, “D’ye think, sir, I dinna ken my ain groats in ither folk’s kail[166]?”

A conceited packman called at a farm-house in the west of Scotland, in order to dispose of some of his wares.  The goodwife was offended by his southern accent, and his high talk about York, London, and other big places.  “An’ whaur come ye frae yersell?” was the question of the guidwife.  “Ou, I am from the Border.”  “The Border—­oh!  I thocht that; for we aye think the selvidge is the wakest bit o’ the wab!”

The following is a good specimen of ready Scotch humorous reply, by a master to his discontented workman, and in which he turned the tables upon him, in his reference to Scripture.  In a town of one of the central counties a Mr. J——­ carried on, about a century ago, a very extensive business in the linen manufacture.  Although strikes were then unknown among the labouring classes, the spirit from which these take their rise has no doubt at all times existed.  Among Mr. J——­’s many workmen, one had given him constant annoyance for years, from his discontented and argumentative spirit.  Insisting one day on getting something or other which his master thought most unreasonable, and refused to give in to, he at last submitted, with a bad grace, saying, “You’re nae better than Pharaoh, sir, forcin’ puir folk to mak’ bricks without straw.”  “Well, Saunders,” quietly rejoined his master, “if I’m nae better than Pharaoh in one respect, I’ll be better in another, for I’ll no hinder ye going to the wilderness whenever you choose.”