A north country drover had, however, a more tangible opportunity of gratifying his national animosity against the Southron, and of which he availed himself.  Returning homewards, after a somewhat unsuccessful journey, and not in very good humour with the Englishers, when passing through Carlisle he saw a notice stuck up, offering a reward of L50 for any one who would do a piece of service to the community, by officiating as executioner of the law on a noted criminal then under sentence of death.  Seeing a chance to make up for his bad market, and comforted with the assurance that he was unknown there, he undertook the office, executed the condemned, and got the fee.  When moving off with the money, he was twitted at as a “mean beggarly Scot,” doing for money what no Englishman would.  With a grin and quiet glee, he only replied, “I’ll hang ye a’ at the price.”

Some Scotsmen, no doubt, have a very complacent feeling regarding the superiority of their countrymen, and make no hesitation in proclaiming their opinion.  I have always admired the quaint expression of such belief in a case which has recently been reported to me.  A young Englishman had taken a Scottish shooting-ground, and enjoyed his mountain sport so much as to imbibe a strong partiality for his northern residence and all its accompaniments.  At a German watering-place he encountered, next year, an original character, a Scotsman of the old school, very national, and somewhat bigoted in his nationality:  he determined to pass himself off to him as a genuine Scottish native; and, accordingly, he talked of Scotland and haggis, and sheep’s head, and whisky; he boasted of Bannockburn, and admired Queen Mary; looked upon Scott and Burns as superior to all English writers; and staggered, although he did not convince, the old gentleman.  On going away he took leave of his Scottish friend, and said, “Well, sir, next time we meet, I hope you will receive me as a real countryman.”  “Weel,” he said, “I’m jest thinkin’, my lad, ye’re nae Scotsman; but I’ll tell ye what ye are—­ye’re juist an impruived Englishman.”

I am afraid we must allow that Scottish people have a leetle national vanity, and may be too ready sometimes to press the claim of their country to an extravagantly assumed pre-eminence in the annals of genius and celebrities.  An extreme case of such pretension I heard of lately, which is amusing.  A Scotsman, in reference to the distinction awarded to Sir Walter Scott, on occasion of his centenary, had roundly asserted, “But all who have been eminent men were Scotsmen.”  An Englishman, offended at such assumption of national pre-eminence, asked indignantly, “What do you say to Shakspeare?” To which the other quietly replied, “Weel, his tawlent wad justifee the inference.”  This is rich, as an example of an a priori argument in favour of a man being a Scotsman.