Part 26 (2/2)

_Expense of a Wife._

An old bachelor who lived in a very economical style, both as regards food and clothing, and not altogether so very trig as some bachelors sometimes appear, was frequently attacked by his acquaintances on the propriety of taking a wife. He was very smartly set upon one day, and told how snod a wife would keep him, and many other fine things to induce him to take a wife, and among the rest, what a comfort it would be to him, if it was for naething else but to make his parritch in the morning. Says he, ”I dinna doubt but she wad mak my parritch, but the plague is, she wad be fair to sup the hauf o' them.”

_An Honest M'Gregor._

Donald M'Gregor, a notorious sheep-lifter (alias sheep-stealer), in the north Highlands, being at last overtaken by the grim tyrant of the human race, was visited by the minister of the parish, whose appearance, however, was by no means agreeable to Donald. The holy man warmly exhorted the dying Highlander to reflect upon the long and black catalogue of his sins, before it was too late, otherwise he would have a tremendous account to give at the great day of retribution, when all the crimes he had committed in this world would appear in dreadful array, as evidence of his guilt. ”Och! sir,” cries the dying man, ”an' will a' the sheeps an' the cows, an' ilka thing Tonal has helped hersel to, be there?” ”Undoubtedly,” replied the parson. ”Then let ilka shentleman tak her nain, an' Tonal will be an honest man again.”

_Negro and the Musquito._

A West Indian who had a remarkably fiery nose, having fallen asleep in his chair, a negro boy who was waiting, observed a musquito hovering round his face. Quasi eyed the insect very attentively; at last he saw him alight on his master's nose, and immediately fly off. ”Ah! bless your heart,” exclaimed the negro, ”me right glad see you burn your foot.”

_A Brush for the Barber._

A Highlander who sold brooms, went into a barber's shop in Glasgow a few days since to get shaved. The barber bought one of his brooms, and after having shaved him, asked the price of it. ”Twopence,” said the Highlander. ”No, no,” said the barber, ”I'll give you a penny, if that does not satisfy you take your broom again.” The Highlander took it, and asked what he had got to pay? ”A penny,” said strap. ”I'll gie you a bawbee,” said Duncan, ”an' if that dinna satisfy ye, put on my beard again.”

_The Kellochsyde Grace._

The following is preserved traditionally as the grace of the farmer of Kellochsyde, or Killocsyde, in Clydesdale:--”O Lord, we'r ay gangan, an we'r ay gettan. We soud ay be coman to thee, but we'r ay forgettan. We leive in the gude mailen o' Kellochsyde, suppan thy gude peisie kale, puir sinfou sons of evil that we are. Monie mercies we receive gude trowth; and we're little thankfou for them, gude feth Janet, rax by the spunes, and a' praise and glory sall be thine. Amen.”

_New Method of Teaching Music._

A Highland piper having a scholar to teach, disdained to crack his mind with the names of semibreves, minims, crotchets, and quivers--”Here, Donald,” said he, ”tak your pipies, lad, and gi's a blast--so, very weel blaun indeed; but what is sound Donald without sense?--ye may blaw for ever, without makin' a tune o't, if I dinna tell you how thae queer things on the paper maun help you--you see that big fellow wi' a round open face (pointing to a semibreve between the two lines of the bar), he moves slowly, slowly, from that line to this, while you beat ane wi'

your fit, and gi'e a blast: if now ye put a leg to him, ye mak' twa o'

him and he'll move twice as fast; gif ye black his face, he'll rin four times faster than the fallow wi' the white face; but if, after blackin'

his face, ye'll bend his knee, or tie his legs, he'll trop eight times faster than the white faced chap that I showed you first. Now, whene'er you blaw your pipes, Donald, remember this, the tighter the fallow's legs are tied, the faster they will rin, and the quicker they are sure to dance.”

_Long-Winded Preacher._

A Parson in the country taking his text in St. Matthew, chapter viii.

verse 14, ”And Peter's wife's mother lay sick of a fever,” preached for three Sundays together on the same subject. Soon after two fellows going across the churchyard, and hearing the bell toll, one asked the other who it was for. ”Nay I can't tell; perhaps,” replied he, ”it's for Peter's wife's mother, for she has been sick of a fever these three weeks.”

_Distinction of Sons and Daughters._

About the year thretty-sax, a company differed ”Whether it was better for a man to ha'e sons or dochters.” They could not 'gree, but disputed it _pro_ and _con_. At last one of them said to Graham of Kinross (wha hadna yoked wi' them in the argument), ”Laird, what's your opinion?”

Quo' he, ”I had three lads and three la.s.sies; I watna whilk o' them I liked best say lang as they sucket their mither; but de'll ha'e my share o' the callants when they cam to suck their father.”

_Patrimony and Matrimony._

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