riage were proclaimed, 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