The following anecdote is highly illustrative of the thoroughly attached old family serving-man.  A correspondent sends it as told to him by an old schoolfellow of Sir Walter Scott’s at Fraser and Adam’s class, High School:—­

One of the lairds of Abercairnie proposed to go out, on the occasion of one of the risings for the Stuarts, in the ’15 or ’45—­but this was not with the will of his old serving-man, who, when Abercairnie was pulling on his boots, preparing to go, overturned a kettle of boiling water upon his legs, so as to disable him from joining his friends—­saying, “Tak that—­let them fecht wha like; stay ye at hame and be laird o’ Abercairnie.”

A story illustrative of a union of polite courtesy with rough and violent ebullition of temper common in the old Scottish character, is well known in the Lothian family.  William Henry, fourth Marquis of Lothian, had for his guest at dinner an old countess to whom he wished to show particular respect and attention[185].  After a very complimentary reception, he put on his white gloves to hand her down stairs, led her up to the upper end of the table, bowed, and retired to his own place.  This I am assured was the usual custom with the chief lady guest by persons who themselves remember it.  After all were seated, the Marquis addressed the lady, “Madam, may I have the honour and happiness of helping your ladyship to some fish?” But he got no answer, for the poor woman was deaf as a post, and did not hear him.  After a pause, but still in the most courteous accents, “Madam, have I your ladyship’s permission to send you some fish?” Then a little quicker, “Is your Ladyship inclined to take fish?” Very quick, and rather peremptory, “Madam, do ye choice fish?” At last the thunder burst, to everybody’s consternation, with a loud thump on the table and stamp on the floor:  “Con—­found ye, will ye have any fish?” I am afraid the exclamation might have been even of a more pungent character.

A correspondent has kindly enabled me to add a reminiscence and anecdote of a type of Scottish character now nearly extinct.—­I mean the old Scottish military officer of the wars of Holland and the Low Countries.  I give them in his own words:—­“My father, the late Rev. Dr. Bethune, minister of Dornoch, was on friendly terms with a fine old soldier, the late Colonel Alexander Sutherland of Calmaly and Braegrudy, in Sutherlandshire, who was lieutenant-colonel of the ‘Local Militia,’ and who used occasionally, in his word of command, to break out with a Gaelic phrase to the men, much to the amusement of bystanders.  He called his charger, a high-boned not overfed animal, Cadaver—­a play upon accents, for he was a good classical scholar, and fond of quoting the Latin poets.  But he had no relish nor respect for the ’Modern languages,’ particularly for that of our French neighbours, whom he looked upon as ‘hereditary’ enemies!  My father and the colonel were both politicians, as well as