It would be impossible in these Reminiscences to omit the well-known and often repeated anecdote connected with an eminent divine of our own country, whose works take a high place in our theological literature.  The story to which I allude was rendered popular throughout the kingdom some years ago, by the inimitable mode in which it was told, or rather acted, by the late Charles Matthews.  But Matthews was wrong in the person of whom he related the humorous address.  I have assurance of the parties from a friend, whose father, a distinguished clergyman in the Scottish Church at the time, had accurate knowledge of the whole circumstances.  The late celebrated Dr. Macknight, a learned and profound scholar and commentator, was nevertheless, as a preacher, to a great degree heavy, unrelieved by fancy or imagination; an able writer, but a dull speaker.  His colleague, Dr. Henry, well known as the author of a History of England, was, on the other hand, a man of great humour, and could not resist a joke when the temptation came upon him.  On one occasion when coming to church, Dr. Macknight had been caught in a shower of rain, and entered the vestry soaked with wet.  Every means were used to relieve him from his discomfort; but as the time drew on for divine service he became much distressed, and ejaculated over and over, “Oh, I wush that I was dry; do you think I’m dry? do you think I’m dry eneuch noo?” His jocose colleague could resist no longer, but, patting him on the shoulder, comforted him with the sly assurance, “Bide a wee, Doctor, and ye’se be dry eneuch when ye get into the pu’pit.”

Another quaint remark of the facetious doctor to his more formal colleague has been preserved by friends of the family.  Dr. Henry, who with all his pleasantry and abilities, had himself as little popularity in the pulpit as his coadjutor, had been remarking to Dr. Macknight what a blessing it was that they were two colleagues in one charge, and continued dwelling on the subject so long, that Dr. Macknight, not quite pleased at the frequent reiteration of the remark, said that it certainly was a great pleasure to himself, but he did not see what great benefit it might be to the world.  “Ah,” said Dr. Henry, “an it hadna been for that, there wad hae been twa toom[179] kirks this day.”  Lord Cockburn tells a characteristic anecdote of Dr. Henry’s behaviour the last day of his life.  I am indebted to a gentleman, himself also a distinguished member of the Scottish Church, for an authentic anecdote of this learned divine, and which occurred whilst Dr. Macknight was the minister of Maybole.  One of his parishioners, a well-known humorous blacksmith of the parish, who, no doubt, thought that the Doctor’s learned books were rather a waste of time and labour for a country pastor, was asked if his minister was at home.  The Doctor was then busy bringing out his laborious and valuable work, his Harmony of the Four Gospels.  “Na, he’s gane