in past times somewhat given to convivial habits, from a remark I recollect of the late Baron Clerk Rattray, viz. that in his younger days he had hardly ever known a perfectly sober betheral.  However this may have been, they were, as a class, remarkable for quaint humour, and for being shrewd observers of what was going on.  I have heard of an occasion where the betheral made his wit furnish an apology for his want of sobriety.  He had been sent round the parish by the minister to deliver notices at all the houses, of the catechising which was to precede the preparation for receiving the communion.  On his return it was quite evident that he had partaken too largely of refreshment since he had been on his expedition.  The minister reproached him for this improper conduct.  The betheral pleaded the pressing hospitality of the parishioners.  The clergyman did not admit the plea, and added, “Now, John, I go through the parish, and you don’t see me return fou, as you have done.”  “Ay, minister,” rejoined the betheral, with much complacency, “but then aiblins ye’re no sae popular i’ the parish as me.”

My relative used to tell of one of these officials receiving, with much ceremony, a brother betheral, from a neighbouring parish, who had come with the minister thereof for the purpose of preaching on some special occasion.  After service, the betheral of the stranger clergyman felt proud of the performance of the appointed duty, and said in a triumphant tone to his friend, “I think oor minister did weel; ay, he gars the stour flee oot o’ the cushion.”  To which the other rejoined, with a calm feeling of superiority, “Stour oot o’ the cushion! hout, our minister, sin’ he cam wi’ us, has dung the guts oot o’ twa Bibles.”  Another description I have heard of an energetic preacher more forcible than delicate—­“Eh, oor minister had a great power o’ watter, for he grat, and spat, and swat like mischeef.”  An obliging anonymous correspondent has sent me a story of a functionary of this class whose pride was centred not so much in the performance of the minister as of the precentor.  He states that he remembers an old beadle of the church which was called “Haddo’s Hole,” and sometimes the “Little Kirk,” in Edinburgh, whose son occasionally officiated as precentor.  He was not very well qualified for the duty, but the father had a high opinion of his son’s vocal powers.  In those days there was always service in the church on the Tuesday evenings; and when the father was asked on such occasions, “Who’s to preach to-night?” his self-complacent reply used to be, “I divna ken wha’s till preach, but my son’s for till precent.”  The following is a more correct version of a betheral story than one which occupied this page in the last edition.  The beadle had been asked to recommend a person for the same office, and his answer was, “If ye had wanted twa or three bits o’ elder bodies, I cud hae gotten them for ye as easily as penny baps oot of Mr. Rowan’s shop,” pointing to a baker’s shop opposite to where the colloquy took place; “or even if ye had wanted a minister, I might hae helpit ye to get ane; but as for a gude beadle, that’s about the maist difficult thing I ken o’ just now.”