The well-known aversion of the Scotch to hearing read sermons has often led to amusing occurrences.  One pastor, in a country district, who was much respected by his people, but who, nevertheless, were never quite reconciled to his paper in the pulpit, found himself on one occasion in an awkward predicament, from this same paper question.  One Sabbath afternoon, having exhausted both firstly and secondly, he came to the termination of his discourse; but, unfortunately, the manuscript was wanting.  In vain efforts to seek the missing paper, he repeated “thirdly and lastly” ad nauseam to his hearers.  At last one, cooler than the others, rose, and nodding to the minister, observed, “’Deed, sir, If I’m no mista’en, I saw ‘thirdly and lastly’ fa’ ower the poopit stairs;” evidently enjoying the disappearance of so important a part of the obnoxious document.

This prejudice was indeed some years since in Scotland quite inveterate.  The following anecdote has been kindly sent to me from Memoirs of Charles Young, lately published by his son:—­

“I have a distinct recollection, one Sunday when I was living at Cults, and when a stranger was officiating for Dr. Gillespie, observing that he had not proceeded five minutes with his ‘discourse,’ before there was a general commotion and stampedo.  The exodus at last became so serious, that, conceiving something to be wrong, probably a fire in the manse, I caught the infection, and eagerly inquired of the first person I encountered in the churchyard what was the matter, and was told, with an expression of sovereign scorn and disgust—­’Losh keep ye, young man!  Hae ye eyes, and see not?  Hae ye ears, and hear not? The man reads!”

On one occasion, however, even this prejudice gave way before the power of the most eloquent preacher that Scotland ever heard, or perhaps that the world ever heard.  A shrewd old Fife hearer of sermons had been objecting, in the usual exaggerated language, against reading sermons in the pulpit.  A gentleman urged the case of Dr. Chalmers, in defence of the practice.  He used his paper in preaching rigidly, and yet with what an effect he read!  All the objector could reply to this was, “Ah, but it’s fell[187] reading yon.”

The two following are from a correspondent who heard them told by the late Dr. Barclay the anatomist, well known for his own dry Scottish humour.

A country laird, at his death, left his property in equal shares to his two sons, who continued to live very amicably together for many years.  At length one said to the other, “Tam, we’re gettin’ auld now, you’ll tak a wife, and when I dee you’ll get my share o’ the grund.”  “Na, John, you’re the youngest and maist active, you’ll tak a wife, and when I dee you’ll get my share.”  “Od,” says John, “Tam, that’s jist the way wi’ you when there’s ony fash or trouble.  The deevil a thing you’ll do at a’.”