immediately after the words ’This is the first, second, or third time of asking,’ the old clerk shouted out, ’God speed them weel.’  In nothing was the primitive and simple character of the people more remarkable than in the social position of the clergy amongst them.  The livings were all small, so that there was no temptation for ecclesiastics of birth and high position in society to come there.  The clergy were in many cases clergy only on Sundays, and for Sunday duty.  The rest of the week they were like their people; engaged in agriculture or horse-breeding, they lived with their servants, and were scarcely raised above the position of farmers.  To show the primitive manners of many clergymen, I may mention the case of an usher in my school, who was also curate.  He enjoyed the euphonious name of Caleb Longbottom.  I recollect his dialect—­pure Yorkshire; his coat a black one only on Sunday, as I suppose he was on week days wearing out his old blue coat which he had before going into orders.  Lord Macaulay has been charged that in describing the humble social condition of the clergy in the reign of Charles ii., he has greatly exaggerated their want of refinement and knowledge of the world; but really, from my recollection of my friend Mr. Longbottom and others at the time I speak of, in the reign of George iii., I cannot think he has overdrawn the picture.  Suppose this incident at a table in our own time:—­My uncle lived in what is called in Yorkshire the Hall; and being principal proprietor in the parish, he was in fact the squire or great man.  The clergy always dined at the hall after evening service, and I recollect the first day the new curate dined.  The awkwardness and shyness of the poor man were striking, even to the eyes of a thoughtless schoolboy.  He summoned courage to call for beer, and, according to the old custom, deemed it necessary to drink the health of all present before he put the glass to his lips.  He addressed first the old gentleman, then the vicar, then myself, and finally, with equal solemnity, drank to the servants in attendance—­the old butler and coachman, who were waiting upon the company[1].”

I value these reminiscences of his Yorkshire school, written long after, because I think them very curious; and they show how early Edward Ramsay had his eyes open to characteristic features of the people.

Ramsay’s grand-uncle, the old Sir Alexander Ramsay, died in 1806, neglecting to make the provision which he had intended for his grand-nephew, but leaving his estates to his nephew, Edward’s father, who then gave up his sheriffship (in which he was succeeded by Adam Gillies), and being a Whig and of Whig family, accepted a baronetcy from Mr. Fox, and made Fasque his home for the short remainder of his life.