not likely to understand; but being very conscientious, he never detected himself in this, without pausing to give the meaning of the word he had used, and sometimes his extempore explanations of very fine words were a little like what we have just had from Mr. ——­, rather too flat and commonplace.  On one occasion he allowed this very word ‘catastrophe’ to drop from him, on which he immediately added, ’that, you know, my friends, means the end of a thing.’  Next day, as he was riding through his parish, some mischievous youth succeeded in fastening a bunch of furze to his horse’s tail—­a trick which, had the animal been skittish, might have exposed the worthy pastor’s horsemanship to too severe a trial, but which happily had no effect whatever on the sober-minded and respectable quadruped which he bestrode.  On, therefore, he quietly jogged, utterly unconscious of the addition that had been made to his horse’s caudal region, until, as he was passing some cottages, he was arrested by the shrill voice of an old woman exclaiming, ’Heh, sir!  Heh, sir! there’s a whun-buss at your horse’s catawstrophe!’”

I have several times adverted to the subject of epigrams.  A clever impromptu of this class has been recorded as given by a judge’s lady in reply to one made by the witty Henry Erskine at a dinner party at Lord Armadale’s.  When a bottle of claret was called for, port was brought in by mistake.  A second time claret was sent for, and a second time the same mistake occurred.  Henry Erskine addressed the host in an impromptu, which was meant as a parody on the well-known Scottish song, “My Jo, Janet”—­

     “Kind sir, it’s for your courtesie
       When I come here to dine, sir,
     For the love ye bear to me,
       Gie me the claret wine, sir.”

To which Mrs. Honeyman retorted—­

     “Drink the port, the claret’s dear,
       Erskine, Erskine;
     Yell get fou on’t, never fear,
       My jo, Erskine.”

Some of my younger readers may not be familiar with the epigram of John Home, author of the tragedy of “Douglas.”  The lines were great favourites with Sir Walter Scott, who delighted in repeating them.  Home was very partial to claret, and could not bear port.  He was exceedingly indignant when the Government laid a tax upon claret, having previously long connived at its introduction into Scotland under very mitigated duties.  He embodied his anger in the following epigram:—­

     “Firm and erect the Caledonian stood,
     Old was his mutton, and his claret good;
     ‘Let him drink port,’ an English statesman cried—­
     He drank the poison, and his spirit died.”