sod, it slocks the yows [_i.e._, quenches the thirst
of the ewes], and it's God's wull."

Many Aberdeenshire stories are valueless without Dr Burton's Aberdeen
accent, which he could intensify at pleasure.

A reminiscence of college days at Aberdeen was of one of the professors
there trying to discipline his unruly class, who came tumbling in while
the professor was opening proceedings by reciting the Lord's Prayer in
Latin, according to custom, and wound up his "In secula seculorum,
amen," with "Quis loupavit ower the factions [Aberdeen for forms or
benches], ille solvit doon a saxpence."

Two neat little _mots_ relate, the one to the familiar subject of London
eggs, the other, to the name of his youngest son. London grocers--as all
Londoners know--label their eggs _Fresh Eggs_, and _New-laid Eggs_, only
the respective prices of the different sorts or hard-bought experience
pointing to the signification of the two appellations. Dr Burton on
hearing this, said, "Oh, of course the _New-laid Eggs_ become _Fresh_ in
time."

The writer wished to bestow the name of David on her youngest son, in
addition to that of Cosmo, in memory of her husband's young brother
David, whom she had heard described as an interesting child at the time
of his early death. Dr Burton opposed this wish, not desiring to
diminish the compliment to the child's grandfather and name-father,
Cosmo Innes. The child was ultimately christened Cosmo Innes--thus, as
his father said, remaining _entirely Cosmetic_.

Two legal stories were told respectively of Lord ----and Lord
Corehouse:--

Lord ---- is pronouncing sentence on an assassin who had stabbed a
soldier: "You did not only maliciously, wickedly, and feloniously stab
or cut his person, thereby depriving him of his life, but did also sever
the band of his military breeches, which are her Majesty's."

Lord Corehouse is listening to the pleading of an advocate who describes
some performance which, as he says, "could be done as easily as your
Lordship could leap out of your breeches." Lord Corehouse interrupts:
"Mr ----, the saltatory feat which you are pleased to ascribe to me is
not one which I have ever attempted, and I do not feel sure that if I
did I could perform it with any of that ease which you suppose."

Enough, perhaps, of such reminiscences, which, written, may fail
altogether of their effect when spoken.

The writer recollects vaguely an immense number, of which confused
images pre