STORIES OF JOHN WILKES.

Otago Witness, Issue 2292, 3 February 1898, Page 50

STORIES OF JOHN WILKES.

No man ever liv^d wbo c laid adapt his wit better to his company. Compare bia chaff of the alderman, forme 1/ a bricklayer, who was "trying to carve a tutbot with a knife, " Use a trowel, brother, use a trowel," with his reply to Madame de Pompadour when she asked him " how far it was safe to go in Ecgland against the Ryyal Family ? " " Taat is whab I am tryicg to fiad out, madame." There are few more really witty replies than that made to the Prince Regent, who asked him at dinner when he drank to the K'cg's health, "How long have you been ao loyal, Wilkes j" " Ever since I knew your Royal Highness." His famous retort bo Lord Sandwich was too much to the taste of the last century to bsar quotation in this. He had co delusions about the capacity or character of his supporters, nor did he fcpare hi 3 frioeds in the city. B^ing waited upon on one occasion by a deputation, one of them exclaimed, " Well, Mr Wilke?, we must take the sense of the ward." 'With all my heart," he replied, " and I will take ths nonsense, and beat you ten to one." Just before presenting a petition to the Speaker he informed that functionary that it was " from a pack of the greatest scoundrels upon earth." Later on he began his speech : " Sir.l hold in my hand a petition from a most intelligent, independent, and enlightened body cf men." Bat such a discrepancy of statement in public and private has not been unknown in the case o£ other Doliticians

besides Wilkes. He had no very exalted idea of tha kind of treatment required to impress the members of the House itstlf. H-j told Boswell, when he was about to appear as counsel before a c -rinmittee of the Commons : " Be as impudent as you can, as lnsrry as you can, and say whatever comes uppermost-. Jack Lee ia the best heard of any counsel, and he is the most impudent dog, and always abasing us." Ha was frank about a trick ot eelf-advertisement which uiost politicians, often in* ff actually, strive to conceal. He once a3ked permission to deliver a speech as the House was about to adjourn. For " I have sent a copy to the Public Advti-i?er, and how ridiculous should I appear if in were published without beicg delivered 1 " In gentle humour he excelled. He once asked the mayor of Aylesbury to be hia gues: in town, where he had never been. Tha worthy native declined, saying that he had heard London was full of nothing but scoundrels. " I believe," said Wilkeg, " there is some (ruth in what you say, Mr Mayor, for I have reason to spprehecd that there are a few suspected characters about." On kings be was, with come ground, rather hard. Hd once declined to play whist because "be never could distinguish a kicg frora a kcave," and "he loved the King so much that he hoped never to see another." — From " J^in Wilkes," in ths Corn hill Magazine fo; T"> inber. "BESSIE BROWN." A Legend of Month sb. The ghost of Bessia Brown ia long sines laid, and the lonelj sand-dunes which she haunted have beea turned into a cemetery. Eighty years ago he was considered a bold man who ventured there after dark. Bjssie Brown was a lithe, Iktle woman, whose soft brown hair and dancing eyes wrought mischief with the heart of many a gallant wabster and jolly sailor lad in the old seaport town of Montrose. Oa Skipper Nicol, who commanded one of the Bahic brigs, those brown eyes beamed their kindliest, and c^urtsbip had almost ripened into marriage when some smuggliag business brought Djnald Uacgcegor to the port. Donald fell in love with Bessie, and prapsed his feuit with all the headlong passion of his race. The skipper was in the Baltic at the time, and glad enough Bss&ie was when he returned. The skipper and Macgrpgor met. A few words passed between them, and r,he Highlandman rushed fiercely at the sailor with a knife. The skipper avoided his rush, and with a swinging blow on the temple sent him unconscious to the ground. . , , j There was money for both skipper and owner in the Baltic trade in those days, and a ntw brig waa lying on the stccks by the waterside waiting Skipper Nicol. She was christened the Bessie Brown in honour of his sweetheart. Bessie Brown went down the water with her namesake on her first voyage, and returned with the pilot's boat. A trim little figure she looked to the skipper's eyes as she stood waving farewell. Next morning Bessie Brown was found murdered among the whins afc Sleepyhillock. With one voice the townsfolk called for vengeance, and the name of Donald Macgregor was on every lip. He was arrested and lodged in the old gaol. The window of bis cell looked down the High street, and a crowd hung around it all

day long, Macpjregor making hideous faces at them between the bars. No evidence cculd be got against him, however, and after being three weeks in gaol he was released. Bessie was laid in the old churchyard, and on the stone, often as the town officer might wash them out, was written this ver.3e — at least so tradition says :—: — Fa's this lies buried here 1 Bessie Brown, fat need ye spier 3 la killed puir Bessie BroAvn ? Fa bit the Macgregor loon. A thiill of pity ran through the town when it was known that the Bessie Brown was at the water-mouth. His old mother mot the skipper as he stepped ashore and led him silently over to Bessie's grave. I The skipper dropped on his knees on the grave, and with his mother's hand en his bared head, swore a terrible oath of vengeance. High and low he hunted for Macgregor, but for a loDg time in vain. At last he found him hidirsg in a little publichouse in the Red Lion Close. The (-kipper drew his sheath knife, but Macgregor managed to evade his first rush, and made for the door. The Bkipper sprang after him, and jost as he reached the floor drove his knife into his back. Macgregor bounded forward, and the knife stuck tast. Down the Backsands and out by the Taycck burn he ran blindly, with the skipper behind him, relentless as fate. At last, within sight of where Bessie's body had been found, he sask to the ground. When his pursuer csme up he raised his hands and cried out for mercy, but his words were unheeded. The skipper never spoke, but seizsd the shrieking wretch by the throat and choked the life cut of him. Then throwing the body over bis shoulder, b.B carried it ronnd to the brig and hid ie among the ballast. Ntxt morning, and for many and many a day after, the screams and the bloody trail in the Rtd Lion Close were talked of in awed whif p-3is. The Bes&is Brown sailed with her gLa=t!y freight, and that voysge she waß lost in tbe North Sea. The crew were saved, but the skipper went down with his ship — Wjlliam Watt, in the Glasgow Wetkly Herald.