of deceit and falsehood in Christian characters.  He was observed to turn red, and grow very uneasy, until at last, as if wincing under the supposed attack upon himself personally, he roared out, “Indeed, minister, there’s mair leears in Peebles than me.”  As examples of this class of persons possessing much of the dry humour of their more sane countrymen, and of their facility to utter sly and ready-witted sayings, I have received the two following from Mr. W. Chambers:—­Daft Jock Gray, the supposed original of David Gellatley, was one day assailed by the minister of a south-country parish on the subject of his idleness.  “John,” said the minister, rather pompously, “you are a very idle fellow; you might surely herd a few cows.”  “Me hird!” replied Jock; “I dinna ken corn frae gerss.”

“There was a carrier named Davie Loch who was reputed to be rather light of wits, but at the same time not without a sense of his worldly interests.  His mother, finding her end approaching, addressed her son in the presence of a number of the neighbours.  ’The house will be Davie’s and the furniture too.’  ‘Eh, hear her,’ quoth Davie; ’sensible to the last, sensible to the last.’  ‘The lyin’ siller’—­’Eh yes; how clear she is about everything!’ ‘The lyin’ siller is to be divided between my twa dauchters.’  ‘Steek the bed doors, steek the bed doors[172],’ interposed Davie; ‘she’s ravin’ now;’ and the old dying woman was shut up accordingly.”

In the Memorials of the Montgomeries, Earls of Eglinton, vol. i. p. 134, occurs an anecdote illustrative of the peculiar acuteness and quaint humour which occasionally mark the sayings of persons considered as imbeciles.  There was a certain “Daft Will Speir,” who was a privileged haunter of Eglinton Castle and grounds.  He was discovered by the Earl one day taking a near cut, and crossing a fence in the demesne.  The Earl called out, “Come back, sir, that’s not the road.”  “Do you ken,” said Will, “whaur I’m gaun?” “No,” replied his lordship.  “Weel, hoo the deil do ye ken whether this be the road or no?”

This same “Daft Will Speir” was passing the minister’s glebe, where haymaking was in progress.  The minister asked Will if he thought the weather would keep up, as it looked rather like rain.  “Weel,” said Will, “I canna be very sure, but I’ll be passin’ this way the nicht, an’ I’ll ca’ in and tell ye.”  “Well, Will,” said his master one day to him, seeing that he had just finished his dinner, “have you had a good dinner to day?” (Will had been grumbling some time before.) “Ou, vera gude,” answered Will; “but gin onybody asks if I got a dram after’t, what will I say?” This poor creature had a high sense of duty.  It appears he had been given the charge of the coal-stores at the Earl of Eglinton’s.  Having on one occasion been reprimanded for allowing the supplies to run out before further supplies were ordered, he was ever afterwards most careful to fulfil his duty.  In course of time poor Will became “sick unto death,” and the minister came to see him.  Thinking him in really a good frame of mind, the minister asked him, in presence of the laird and others, if there were not one great thought which was ever to him the highest consolation in his hour of trouble.  “Ou ay,” gasped the sufferer, “Lord be thankit, a’ the bunkers are fu’!”