We find in the conversation of old people frequent mention of a class of beings well known in country parishes, now either become commonplace, like the rest of the world, or removed altogether, and shut up in poorhouses or madhouses—­I mean the individuals frequently called parochial idiots; but who were rather of the order of naturals.  They were eccentric, or somewhat crazy, useless, idle creatures, who used to wander about from house to house, and sometimes made very shrewd sarcastic remarks upon what was going on in the parish.  I heard such a person once described as one who was “wanting in twopence of change for a shilling.”  They used to take great liberty of speech regarding the conduct and disposition of those with whom they came in contact, and many odd sayings which emanated from them were traditionary in country localities.  I have a kindly feeling towards these imperfectly intelligent, but often perfectly cunning beings; partly, I believe, from recollections of early associations in boyish days with some of those Davy Gellatleys.  I have therefore preserved several anecdotes with which I have been favoured, where their odd sayings and indications of a degree of mental activity have been recorded.  These persons seem to have had a partiality for getting near the pulpit in church, and their presence there was accordingly sometimes annoying to the preacher and the congregation; as at Maybole, when Dr. Paul, now of St. Cuthbert’s, was minister in 1823, John M’Lymont, an individual of this class, had been in the habit of standing so close to the pulpit door as to overlook the Bible and pulpit board.  When required, however, by the clergyman to keep at a greater distance, and not look in upon the minister, he got intensely angry and violent.  He threatened the minister,—­“Sir, baeby (maybe) I’ll come farther;” meaning to intimate that perhaps he would, if much provoked, come into the pulpit altogether.  This, indeed, actually took place on another occasion, and the tenure of the ministerial position was justified by an argument of a most amusing nature.  The circumstance, I am assured, happened in a parish in the north.  The clergyman, on coming into church, found the pulpit occupied by the parish natural.  The authorities had been unable to remove him without more violence than was seemly, and therefore waited for the minister to dispossess Tam of the place he had assumed.  “Come down, sir, immediately!” was the peremptory and indignant call; and on Tam being unmoved, it was repeated with still greater energy.  Tam, however, replied, looking down confidentially from his elevation, “Na, na, minister! juist ye come up wi’ me.  This is a perverse generation, and faith they need us baith.”  It is curious to mark the sort of glimmering of sense, and even of discriminating thought, displayed by persons of this class.  As an example, take a conversation held by this same John M’Lymont, with Dr. Paul, whom he met some time after.  He seemed to have