Another example of shrewd and ready humour in one of that class is the following:—­In this case the idiot was musical, and earned a few stray pence by playing Scottish airs on a flute.  He resided at Stirling, and used to hang about the door of the inn to watch the arrival and departure of travellers.  A lady, who used to give him something occasionally, was just starting, and said to Jamie that she had only a fourpenny piece, and that he must be content with that, for she could not stay to get more.  Jamie was not satisfied, and as the lady drove out, he expressed his feelings by playing with all his might, “O wearie o’ the toom pouch[173].”

The spirit in Jamie Fraser before mentioned, and which had kept him awake, shows itself in idiots occasionally by making them restless and troublesome.  One of this character had annoyed the clergyman where he attended church by fidgeting, and by uncouth sounds which he uttered during divine service.  Accordingly, one day before church began, he was cautioned against moving, or “making a whisht,” under the penalty of being turned out.  The poor creature sat quite still and silent, till, in a very important part of the sermon, he felt an inclination to cough.  So he shouted out, “Minister, may a puir body like me noo gie a hoast[174]?”

I have two anecdotes of two peers, who might be said to come under the description of half-witted.  In their case the same sort of dry Scotch humour came out under the cloak of mental disease.  The first is of a Scottish nobleman of the last century who had been a soldier the greater part of his life, but was obliged to come home on account of aberration of mind, superinduced by hereditary propensity.  Desirous of putting him under due restraint, and at the same time of engaging his mind in his favourite pursuit, his friends secured a Sergeant Briggs to be his companion, and, in fact, keeper.  To render the sergeant acceptable as a companion they introduced him to the old earl as Colonel Briggs.  Being asked how he liked “the colonel,” the earl showed how acute he still was by his answer, “Oh, very well; he is a sensible man, and a good soldier, but he smells damnably of the halbert.”

The second anecdote relates also to a Scottish nobleman labouring under aberration of mind, and is, I believe, a traditionary one.  In Scotland, some hundred years ago, madhouses did not exist, or were on a very limited scale; and there was often great difficulty in procuring suitable accommodation for patients who required special treatment and seclusion from the world.  The gentleman in question had been consigned to the Canongate prison, and his position there was far from comfortable.  An old friend called to see him, and asked how it had happened that he was placed in so unpleasant a situation.  His reply was, “Sir, it was more the kind interest and patronage of my friends than my own merits that have placed me here.”  “But have you not remonstrated or complained?” asked his visitor.  “I told them” said his lordship, “that they were a pack of infernal villains.”  “Did you?” said his friend; “that was bold language; and what did they say to that?” “Oh,” said the peer, “I took care not to tell them till they were fairly out of the place, and weel up the Canongate.”