er sort of
attendant, and a character in his way, said, "I wish I was in the
dining-room of Fasque." Our good cousin the Rev. Mr. Wilson, minister
of Farnel, who liked well a quiet shot at the grouse, rather testily
replied, "Ye'd soon be _kickit_ out o' that;" to which the other
replied, not at all daunted, "Weel, weel, then I wadna be far frae the
kitchen." A quaint and characteristic reply I recollect from another
farm-servant. My eldest brother had just been constructing a piece of
machinery which was driven by a stream of water running through the home
farmyard. There was a thrashing machine, a winnowing machine, and
circular saw for splitting trees into paling, and other contrivances of
a like kind. Observing an old man, who had long been about the place,
looking very attentively at all that was going on, he said, "Wonderful
things people can do now, Robby!" "Ay," said Robby; "indeed, Sir
Alexander, I'm thinking gin Solomon were alive noo he'd be thocht
naething o'!"

The two following derive their force entirely from the Scottish turn of
the expressions. Translated into English, they would lose all point--at
least, much of the point which they now have:--

At the sale of an antiquarian gentleman's effects in Roxburghshire,
which Sir Walter Scott happened to attend, there was one little article,
a Roman _patina_, which occasioned a good deal of competition, and was
eventually knocked down to the distinguished baronet at a high price.
Sir Walter was excessively amused during the time of bidding to observe
how much it excited the astonishment of an old woman, who had evidently
come there to buy culinary utensils on a more economical principle. "If
the parritch-pan," she at last burst out--"If the parritch-pan gangs at
that, what will the kail-pat gang for?"

An ancestor of Sir Walter Scott joined the Stuart Prince in 1715, and,
with his brother, was engaged in that unfortunate adventure which ended
in a skirmish and captivity at Preston. It was the fashion of those
times for all persons of the rank of gentlemen to wear scarlet
waistcoats. A ball had struck one of the brothers, and carried part of
this dress into his body, and in this condition he was taken prisoner
with a number of his companions, and stripped, as was too often the
practice in those remorseless wars. Thus wounded, and nearly naked,
having only a shirt on, and an old sack about him, the ancestor of the
great poet was sitting, along with his brothe