scholars.  Reading a newspaper article in his presence one day, my father stopped short, handing the paper to him, and said, ’Colonel, here is a French quotation, which you can translate better than I can,’ ‘No, sir!’ said the colonel, ’I never learnt the language of the scoundrels!!!’ The colonel was known as ’Col.  Sandy Sutherland,’ and the men always called him Colonel Sandy.  He was a splendid specimen of the hale veteran, with a stentorian voice, and the last queue I remember to have seen.”

A correspondent kindly sends me from Aberdeenshire a humorous story, very much of the same sort as that of Colonel Erskine’s servant, who considerately suggested to his master that “maybe an aith might relieve him[186].”  My correspondent heard the story from the late Bishop Skinner.

It was among the experiences of his father, Bishop John Skinner.  While making some pastoral visits in the neighbourhood of the town (Aberdeen), the Bishop took occasion to step into the cottage of two humble parishioners, a man and his wife, who cultivated a little croft.  No one was within; but as the door was only on the latch, the Bishop knew that the worthy couple could not be far distant.  He therefore stepped in the direction of the outhouses, and found them both in the barn winnowing corn, in the primitive way, with “riddles,” betwixt two open doors.  On the Bishop making his appearance, the honest man ceased his winnowing operations, and in the gladness of his heart stepped briskly forward to welcome his pastor; but in his haste he trod upon the rim of the riddle, which rebounded with great force against one of his shins.  The accident made him suddenly pull up; and, instead of completing the reception, he stood vigorously rubbing the injured limb; and, not daring in such a venerable presence to give vent to the customary strong ejaculations, kept twisting his face into all sorts of grimaces.  As was natural, the Bishop went forward, uttering the usual formulas of condolence and sympathy, the patient, meanwhile, continuing his rubbings and his silent but expressive contortions.  At last Janet came to the rescue; and, clapping the Bishop coaxingly on the back, said, “Noo, Bishop, jist gang ye yir waas into the hoose, an’ we’ll follow fan he’s had time to curse a fyllie, an’ I’se warran’ he’ll seen be weel eneuch!”

The following might have been added as examples of the dry humorous manner in which our countrymen and countrywomen sometimes treat matters with which they have to deal, even when serious ones:—­

An itinerant vendor of wood in Aberdeen having been asked how his wife was, replied, “Oh, she’s fine; I hae taen her tae Banchory;” and on it being innocently remarked that the change of air would do her good, he looked up, and, with a half smile, said, “Hoot, she’s i’ the kirk-yard.”