nd son of George Brown, who sat in the Supreme
Court as a judge with the title of Lord Coalstoun. The party had been
convivial, as we know parties of the highest legal characters often
were in those days. When breaking up and going to the drawing-room, one
of them, not seeing his way very clearly, stepped out of the dining-room
window, which was open to the summer air. The ground at Coalstoun
sloping off from the house behind, the worthy judge got a great fall,
and rolled down the bank. He contrived, however, as tipsy men generally
do, to regain his legs, and was able to reach the drawing-room. The
first remark he made was an innocent remonstrance with his friend the
host, "Od, Charlie Brown, what gars ye hae sic lang steps to your
_front_ door?"

On Deeside, where many original stories had their origin, I recollect
hearing several of an excellent and worthy, but very simple-minded man,
the Laird of Craigmyle. On one occasion, when the beautiful and clever
Jane, Duchess of Gordon, was scouring through the country, intent upon
some of those electioneering schemes which often occupied her fertile
imagination and active energies, she came to call at Craigmyle, and
having heard that the laird was making bricks on the property, for the
purpose of building a new garden wall, with her usual tact she opened
the subject, and kindly asked, "Well, Mr. Gordon, and how do your bricks
come on?" Good Craigmyle's thoughts were much occupied with a new
leather portion of his dress, which had been lately constructed, so,
looking down on his nether garments, he said in pure Aberdeen dialect,
"Muckle obleeged to yer Grace, the breeks war sum ticht at first, but
they are deeing weel eneuch noo."

The last Laird of Macnab, before the clan finally broke up and emigrated
to Canada, was a well-known character in the country, and being poor,
used to ride about on a most wretched horse, which gave occasion to
many jibes at his expense. The laird was in the constant habit of riding
up from the country to attend the Musselburgh races. A young wit, by way
of playing him off on the race-course, asked him, in a contemptuous
tone, "Is that the same horse you had last year, laird?" "Na," said the
laird, brandishing his whip in the interrogator's face in so emphatic a
manner as to preclude further questioning, "na; but it's the same
_whup_." In those days, as might be expected, people were not nice in
expressions of their dislike of persons and measures