SCOTTISH ANECDOTES.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 4147, 6 July 1874, Page 3

SCOTTISH ANECDOTES.

(From the "Book of Scottish Anecdote." By Alex. Hyslop.) LORD LOUGHBOROUGH. The kindness and politeness with which this nobleman conferred a favor greatly enhanced its value. He would often say, when he gave away preferment, and more particularly to those whose merit was their only recommendation to him—- " Go to my secretary, and desire him to prepare the presentation immediately, or I shall have some duke or great man make application, whom I shall not be able to refuse." NO ALTERNATIVE. "Fesh me a drink o' water, Jock," said sn old bedridden Fifer to his son, one day, " for I'm unco drouthy." The urchin went to the pitcher, and, observing that it contained only a small quantity of muddy and unpalatable water he remarked—- " Ye'll notak a flicher o' meal on the tapo't, father?" " Na, na, laddie." " Fegs," returned the boy, scratching his head, " I'll hae to gang to the wall, than?" AN EXPRESSIVE ECHO. At a choral competition in England, a Scottish choir entered the lists to secure at least a share of the prizes. One of them was told off to take a part in the beautiful glee, " Hail, smiling morn," and he resolved to exert himself to the utmost. When the vocalists arrived at the words—• " And darkness flies away'!" it fell to the lot of the Scot to make the " repeat," or echo, which he did, in a whisper audible everywhere, in this way—- " Darkness flees awa'!" "AMONG THE MODERATES." The antipathy which certain people in the north formerly entertained towards the Church of Scotland is well known ; but here is an extreme case — An old woman from the country made her way into the parish church of T , on the evening of a Sacrament Sunday. Settling herself comfortably at the further end of a pew, she waited for the service to commence ; but the slight difference of the ritual at once struck her, and the truth flashed on her mind that she was actually in an Established Church ! Springing to her feet, she exclaimed—- " Let me oot o' this? let me oot! I'm among the Moderates ! I'm lost, I'm clean lost!" EASILY ACCOUNTED FOR.

At a Perthshire election Sir John Campbell solicited a Mr. McGregor to use his influence with his son, to give his vote for Sir George Murray. The old man said it would be useless, as his son was already pledged to the opposite party. Sir John was greatly displeased when he heard this, and testily replied—- " Then your son is no true McGregor; there must be some bad blood in him." To which the descendant of Eob Koy quietly replied—- " I wadna doubt, Sir John, but there is, for his mother was a Campbell !" A tailor's due am. A " whip-the-cat," as jobbing tailors used to be called in Scotland, appeared in his shop one morning with a very rueful visage, and his fel-low-workmen asked what ailed him. " Man, AVull," said the dejected, " I had an awful dream last niclit. I thought I was in the bad place, and a' my bits o' ' cabbage' were spread oot afore me. I'll ne'er ' cabbage' mair." A few days afterwards, however, he had occasion to cut out a student's scarlet gown, and a most tempting "affcut" presenting itself, he yielded to the tempter. His friend reminded him of his dream and his resolution, but he got over him by answering—- " Oh, I haena forgotten't, but I mind noo, that amaug a' the bits o' claith I saw that nicht, there wasna a single scrap o' red amang them." A CONSCIENTIOUS TRADESMAN:. During the erection of a Unitarian chapel in Glasgow, one of the tradesmen engaged ran short of nails, and proceeded to an ironmonger's to procure a fresh supply. The Shopkeeper, surprised at the large quantity ordered, said—- " That's nails eneuch to big a city kirk." "Deed," said the customer, "that's just what they're for, although it's no for a town'skirk."

" Maybe for a meeting-house ?" queried the ironmonger. "Nil," answered the other, "they're just for the woodwork of the new Unitarian chapel." "Say ye that !" exclaimed the indignant seller of nails ; " and had ye the daring impudence, sin" I maun say sae, to try and get them frae me ?. Talc back your siller and gie me my nails. I'll ne'er hae't said that I sell't a pinto prop up a pillar o' Satan's." "two's company, thuee's none." Simon Beveridge, a poor hand-loom weaver in Bishopbriggs had the misfortune to be allied to a very bad wife—in fact, a perfect randy. In all his troubles, however, he had always the sympathies of his only son Jamie, and many a conversation the two had on the evil habits aud temper of their relative. "Father," the son would say, when any extra "row" would occur, "dinna vex yoursel' about that mither o' mine." One day Mrs. Beveridge went "ower the tow" altogether, aud Simon, nearly brokenhearted, said to his friend aud comforter—- " Jamie, Jamie, what think ye o' that wife o' mine's this morning ? la she no an awfu' heavy handfu' for anybody to hae, let alauc puir me ?" "Deed is she, father," said Jamie. "Is't no a pity, man, that ye didna marry Jenny Trams, wlien ye could hae gotten her for the asking ? Sic a mither she wad hae been !" " Ou, ay, Jamie, my man," replied the unhappy Simon, "it wad hae been better a' ways, but what maun be, maun be." " Wecl, weel, father," said the sympathetic son, " gin ye say that, we maun just jouk and let the jaw gae by ; but, between oursels, I really think we happened on an ill bargain when we got her."