Scotch Wit and Humor

Playing at Ghosts

Some boys boarded with a teacher in Scotland, whose house was not very far from a country church-yard. They determined to alarm the old grave-digger, who was in the habit of reaching his cottage, often late at night, by a short cut through the burying-ground. One boy, named Warren, who was especially mischievous, and had often teased old Andrew, dressed himself up in a white sheet, and, with his companions, hid behind the graves.

After waiting patiently, but not without some anxiety and fear, for Andrew, he was at last seen approaching the memorial-stone behind which Warren was ensconced. Soon a number of low moans were heard coming from among the graves.

"Ah, keep us a'!" exclaimed Andrew. "What's that?"

And as he approached slowly and cautiously towards the tombstones, a white figure arose, and got taller and taller before his eyes.

"What's that?" asked Andrew, with a voice which seemed to tremble with fear, although, if anyone had seen how he grasped his stick, he would not have seen his hand tremble.

"It's the resurrection!" exclaimed the irreverent Bully Warren.

"The resurrection!" replied Andrew. "May I tak' the leeberty o' askin'," he continued slowly, approaching the ghost, "if it's the general ane, or are ye jist takin' a quiet daunder by yersel'?"

So saying, Andrew rushed at the ghost, and seizing it – while a number of smaller ghosts rose, and ran in terror to the schoolhouse – he exclaimed, "Come awa' wi' me! I think I surely haena buried ye deep eneuch, when ye can rise so easy. But I hae dug a fine deep grave this morning, and I'll put ye in't, and cover ye up wi' sae muckle yirth, that, my werd, ye'll no' get out for another daunder."

So saying, Andrew, by way of carrying out his threats, dragged Master Bully Warren towards his newly-made grave.

The boy's horror may be imagined, as Andrew was too powerful to permit of his escape. He assailed the old man with agonized petitions for mercy, for he was a great coward.

"I'm not a ghost! Oh, Andrew, I'm Peter Warren! Andrew! Don't burry me! I'll never again annoy you! Oh – o – o – o – o!"

Andrew, after he had administered what he considered due punishment, let Warren off with the admonition: "Never daur to speak o' gude things in yon way. Never play at ghaists again, or leevin' folk like me may grup you, an' mak' a ghaist o' ye. Aff wi ye!"

"Two Blacks Don't Make a White"

The family of a certain Scotch nobleman having become rather irregular in their attendance at church, the fact was observed and commented on by their neighbors. A lady, anxious to defend them and to prove that the family pew was not so often vacant as was supposed, said that his lordship's two black servants were there every Sunday. "Ay," said a gentleman present, "but two blacks don't mak' a white."

From Pugilism to Pulpit

Fuller was in early life, when a farmer lad at Soham, famous as a boxer; not quarrelsome, but not without "the stern delight" a man of strength and courage feels in his exercise. Dr. Charles Stewart, of Dunearn, whose rare gifts and graces as a physician, a divine, a scholar, and a gentleman, live only in the memory of those few who knew and survive him, liked to tell how Mr. Fuller used to say, that when he was in the pulpit, and saw a buirdly man come along the passage, he would instinctively draw himself up, measure his imaginary antagonist, and forecast how he would deal with him, his hands meanwhile condensing into fists, and tending to "square." He must have been a hard hitter if he boxed as he preached – what "the fancy" would call "an ugly customer." [4]

A Consistent Seceder

A worthy old seceder used to ride from Gargrennock to Bucklyvie every Sabbath to attend the Burgher Kirk. One day, as he rode past the parish kirk of Kippen, the elder of the place accosted him, "I'm sure, John, it's no' like the thing to see you ridin' in sic' a downpour o' rain sae far by to thae seceders. Ye ken the mercifu' man is mercifu' to his beast. Could ye no step in by?"

"Weel," said John, "I wadna care sae muckle about stablin' my beast inside, but it's anither thing mysel' gain' in." [7]

"No Road this Way!"

The following anecdote is told regarding the late Lord Dundrennan: A half-silly basket-woman passing down his avenue at Compstone one day, he met her, and said, "My good woman, there's no road this way."

"Na, sir," she said, "I think ye're wrang there; I think it's a most beautifu' road." [7]

Shakespeare – Nowhere!

It is related, as characteristic of the ardor of Scottish nationality, that, at a representation of Home's Douglas, at Glasgow or Edinburgh, a Scotchman turned, at some striking passage in the drama, and said to a Southron at his elbow: "And wher's your Wully Shakespeare noo?"

Steeple or People?

Shortly after the disruption of the Free Church of Scotland from the church paid by the State, a farmer going to church met another going in the opposite direction.

"Whaur are ye gaen?" said he. "To the Free Kirk?"

"Ou, ay, to the Free Kirk," cried the other in derision:

"Ay, ay," replied the first, "an' ye'll be gaen till

This ended the colloquy for that occasion.

Hume Canonized

Hume's house in Edinburgh stood at the corner of a new street which had not yet received any name. A witty young lady, a daughter of Baron Ord, chalked on the wall of the house the words, "St. David's Street." Hume's maid-servant read them, and apprehensive that some joke was intended against her master, went in great alarm to report the matter to him. "Never mind, my lass," said the philosopher; "many a better man has been made a saint of before."

Two Ways of Mending Ways

The Rev. Mr. M – , of Bathgate, came up to a street pavior one day, and addressed him: "Eh, John, what's this you're at?"

"Oh! I'm mending the ways of Bathgate!"

"Ah, John, I've long been tryin' to mend the ways o' Bathgate, an' they're no' weel yet."

"Weel, Mr. M – , if you had tried my plan, and come doon to your knees, ye wad maybe hae come maar speed!"

The Prophet's Chamber

A Scotch preacher, being sent to officiate one Sunday at a country parish, was accommodated at night in the manse in a very diminutive closet, instead of the usual best bedroom appropriated to strangers.

"Is this the bedroom?" he said, starting back in amazement.

"'Deed, ay, sir; this is the prophet's chamber."

"It must be for the minor prophets, then," said the discomfited parson.

Objecting to Long Sermons

A minister in the north was taking to task one of his hearers who was a frequent defaulter, and was reproaching him as an habitual absentee from public worship. The accused vindicated himself on the plea of a dislike to long sermons.

"'Deed, man," said his reverend minister, a little nettled at the insinuation thrown out against himself, "if ye dinna mend, ye may land yerself where ye'll no' be troubled wi' mony sermons, either lang or short."

"Weel, aiblins sae," retorted John, "but it mayna be for want o' ministers."

A Serious Dog and for a Serious Reason

A Highland gamekeeper, when asked why a certain terrier, of singular pluck, was so much more solemn than the other dogs, said: "Oh, sir, life's full o' sairiousness to him – he first can never get enuff o' fechtin'."

A Clever "Turn"

Lord Elibank, the Scotch peer, was told that Dr. Johnson, in his dictionary, had defined oats to be food for horses in England and for men in Scotland. "Ay," said his lordship, "and where else can you find such horses and such men?"

Entrance Free, and "Everything Found"

A member of the Scottish bar, when a youth, was somewhat of a dandy, and was still more remarkable for the shortness of his temper. One day, being about to pay a visit to the country, he made a great fuss in packing up his clothes for the journey, and his old aunt, annoyed at the bustle, said: "Whaur's this you're gaun, Robby, that you mak' sic a grand ware about your claes?"

The young man lost his temper, and pettishly replied, "I am going to the devil."

"'Deed, Robby, then," was the quiet answer, "ye need na be sae nice, for he'll just tak' ye as ye are."

Two Questions on the Fall of Man

The Rev. Ralph Erskine, one of the fathers of the secession from the Kirk of Scotland, on a certain occasion paid a visit to his venerable brother, Ebenezer, at Abernethy.

"Oh, man!" said the latter, "but ye come in a gude time. I've a diet of examination to-day, and ye maun tak' it, as I have matters o' life and death to settle at Perth."

"With all my heart," quoth Ralph.

"Noo, my Billy," says Ebenezer, "ye'll find a' my folk easy to examine but ane, and him I reckon ye had better no' meddle wi'. He has our old-fashioned Scotch way of answering a question by putting another, and maybe he'll affront ye."

"Affront me!" quoth the indignant theologian; "do ye think he can foil me wi' my ain natural toils?"

"Aweel," says his brother, "I'se gie ye fair warning, ye had better no' ca' him up."

The recusant was one Walter Simpson, the Vulcan of the parish. Ralph, indignant at the bare idea of such an illiterate clown chopping divinity with him, determined to pose him at once with a grand leading unanswerable question. Accordingly, after putting some questions to some of the people present, he all at once, with a loud voice, cried out, "Walter Simpson!"

"Here, sir," says Walter, "are ye wanting me?"

"Attention, sir! Now Walter, can you tell me how long Adam stood in a state of innocence?"

"Ay, till he got a wife," instantly cried the blacksmith. "But," added he, "can you tell me hoo lang he stood after?"

"Sit doon, Walter," said the discomfited divine.

The Speech of a Cannibal

"Poor-man-of-mutton" is a term applied to a shoulder-of-mutton in Scotland after it has been served as a roast at dinner, and appears as a broiled bone at supper, or at the dinner next day. The Scotch Earl of B – , popularly known as Old Rag, being at an hotel in London, the landlord came in one morning to enumerate the good things in the larder. "Landlord," said the Earl of B – , "I think I could eat a morsel of poor man." This strange announcement, coupled with the extreme ugliness of his lordship, so terrified Boniface that he fled from the room and tumbled down the stairs. He supposed that the Earl, when at home, was in the habit of eating a joint of a vassal, or tenant, when his appetite was dainty.

Not "in Chains"

A Londoner was traveling on one of the Clyde steamers, and as it was passing the beautiful town of Largs, then little larger than a village, and unnoticed in his guide-book, he asked a Highland countryman, a fellow passenger, its name.

"Oh, that's Largs, sir."

"Is it incorporated?"

"Chwat's your wull, sir?"

"Is it incorporated?"

"Chwat's your wull, sir?"

"Dear me! Is it a borough? Has it magistrates?"

"Oh, yess, sir. Largs has a provost and bailies."

Anxious to have the question of incorporation settled, and aware that Scotch civic magistrates are invested with golden chains of office, which they usually wear round their necks, our London friend put his next question thus: "Do the magistrates wear chains?"

The countryman very indignantly replied, "Na, na, sir; the provost and bailies o' Largs aye gang loose."

A Piper's Opinion of a Lord – and Himself

"The stately step of a piper" is a proverb in Scotland, which reminds us of an anecdote of a certain noble lord, when in attendance upon the Queen at Balmoral, a few years ago. Having been commissioned by a friend to procure a performer on the pipes – he applied to her majesty's piper – a fine stalwart Highlander; and on being asked what kind of article was required, his lordship said in reply, "Just such another as yourself." The consequential Celt readily exclaimed "There's plenty o' lords like yourself, but very few sic pipers as me."

A Modern Dumb Devil (D.D.)

Mr. Dunlop happened one day to be present in a Church Court in a neighboring presbytery. A Rev. Dr. was one day asked to pray, and declined.

On the meeting adjourning, Mr. Dunlop stepped up to the doctor, and asked how he did. The doctor never having been introduced, did not reply.

Mr. Dunlop withdrew, and said to a friend, "Eh! but is' na he a queer man, that doctor; he'll neither speak to God nor man?"

A Curiously Unfortunate Coincidence in Psalm Singing

In the parish church of Fettercairn, a custom existed, and indeed still lingers in some parts of Scotland, of the precentor on communion Sabbath reading out each single line of the psalm before it was sung by the congregation. This practice gave rise to a somewhat unfortunate introduction of a line from the First Psalm. In most churches in Scotland the communion tables are placed in the centre of the church. After sermon and prayer the seats round these tables are occupied by the communicants while a psalm is being sung. On one communion Sunday, the precentor observed the noble family of Eglinton approaching the tables, and saw that they were likely to be kept out by those who pressed in before them. Being very zealous for their accommodation, he called out to an individual whom he considered to be the principal obstacle in the passage, "Come back, Jock, and let in the noble family of Eglinton"; and then, turning again to his psalm-book, gave out the line, "Nor stand in sinners' way."

Living With His Uncle

A little boy had lived some time with a penurious uncle, who took good care that the child's health should not be injured by overfeeding. The uncle was one day walking out, the child at his side, when a friend accosted him, accompanied by a greyhound. While the elders were talking, the little fellow, never having seen a dog so slim and slight in texture, clasped the creature round the neck with the impassioned cry, "Oh, doggie, doggie, and did ye live wi' your uncle, tae, that ye are so thin?" [7]

Pulpit Familiarity

A pastor of a small congregation of Dissenters in the west of Scotland, who, in prayer, often employed terms of familiarity towards the great Being whom he invoked, was addressing his petition in the season of an apparently doubtful harvest, that He would grant such weather as was necessary for ripening and gathering in the fruits of the ground; when suddenly, he added, "But what need I talk? When I was up at Shotts the other day, everything was as green as leeks."

A Churl Congratulated

Hume went to a newspaper office, and laid on the counter an announcement of the death of some friend, together with five shillings, the usual price of such advertisements. The clerk, who had a very rough manner, demanded seven shillings and sixpence, the extra charge being for the words: "he was universally beloved and regretted." Hume paid the money, saying, gravely, "Congratulate yourself, sir, that this is an expense which your executors will never be put to."

Touching Each Other's Limitations

There once lived in Cupar a merchant whose store contained supplies of every character and description, so that he was commonly known by the sobriquet of "Robbie A' Thing." One day a minister who was well known for making a free use of his notes in the pulpit, called at the store asking for a rope and pin to tether a young calf in the glebe.

Robbie at once informed him that he could not furnish such articles to him.

But the minister being somewhat importunate, said: "Oh! I thought you were named 'Robbie A' Thing,' from the fact that you keep all kinds of goods."

"Weel, a weel," said Robbie, "I keep a' thing in my shop but calf's tether-pins, and paper sermons for ministers to read."

"Having the Advantage"

The Rev. Mr. Johnstone, of Monquhitter, a very grandiloquent pulpit orator in his day, accosting a traveling piper, well known in the district, with the question, "Well, John, how does the wind pay?" received from John, with a low bow, the answer, "Your reverence has the advantage of me." [7]

Giving Them the Length of His Tongue

A lawyer in an Edinburgh court occupied the whole day with a speech which was anything but interesting to his auditors.

Some one, who had left the court-room and returned again after the interval of some hours, finding the same harangue going on, said to Lord Cockburn, "Is not H – taking up a great deal of time?"

"Time?" said Cockburn; "he has long ago exhausted time, and encroached upon eternity."

Sectarian Resemblances

A friend of mine used to tell a story of an honest builder's views of church differences, which was very amusing and quaintly professional. An English gentleman who had arrived in a Scottish county town, was walking about to examine various objects which presented themselves, and observed two rather handsome places of worship in the course of erection nearly opposite each other. He addressed a person, who happened to be the contractor for the chapels, and asked, "What was the difference between these two places of worship which was springing up so close to each other?" meaning, of course, the difference of the theological tenets of the two congregations.

The contractor, who thought only of architectural differences, innocently replied, "There may be a difference of sax feet in length, but there's no' aboon a few inches in breadth."

Would that all religious differences could be brought within so narrow a compass. [7]

A Process of Exhaustion

A Scotch minister was asked if he was not very much exhausted after preaching three hours. "Oh, no," he replied; "but it would have done you good to see how worried the people were."

A Thoughtless Wish

A landed proprietor in the small county of Rutland became very intimate with the Duke of Argyle, to whom, in the plenitude of his friendship, he said: "How I wish your estate were in my county!" Upon which the duke replied, "I'm thinking, if it were, there would be no room for yours."

Sunday Thoughts on Recreation

The Rev. Adam Wadderstone, minister in Bathgate, was an excellent man and as excellent a curler, who died in 1780. Late one Saturday night one of his elders received a challenge from the people of Shotts to the curlers of Bathgate to meet them early on Monday morning; and after tossing about half the night at a loss how to convey the pleasing news to the minister, he determined to tell him before he entered the pulpit.

When Mr. Wadderstone entered the session-house, the elder said to him in a loud tone, "Sir, I've something to tell ye; there's to be a parish play with the Shotts folk the morn, at – "

"Whist, man, whist!" was the rejoinder. "Oh, fie, shame, John! fie, shame! Nae speaking to-day about warldy recreations."

But the ruling passion proved too strong for the worthy clergyman's scruples of conscience, for just as he was about to enter the inner door of the church, he suddenly wheeled round and returned to the elder, who was now standing at the plate in the lobby, and whispered in his ear, "But whan's the hoor, John? I'll be sure and be there. Let us sing,

Relieving His Wife's Anxiety

A Scotchman became very poor by sickness. His refined and affectionate wife was struggling with him for the support of their children. He took to peddling with a one-horse wagon, as a business that would keep him in the open air and not tax his strength too much. One day, after having been sick at home for two or three weeks, he started out with his cart for a ten-day's trip, leaving his wife very anxious about him on account of his weakness. After going about fifteen miles his horse fell down and died. He got a farmer to hitch his horse to the cart and bring it home. As they were driving into the yard he saw the anxiety depicted on his wife's countenance, and being tenderly desirous to relieve it, he cried out, "Maria, its not me that's dead; its the mare!"

Radically Rude

Mr. Burgon, in his "Life of Tyler," tells the following amusing story: Captain Basil Hall was once traveling in an old-fashioned stage-coach, when he found himself opposite to a good-humored, jolly Dandy-Dinmount looking person, with whom he entered into conversation, and found him most intelligent. Dandie, who was a staunch Loyalist, as well as a stout yeoman, seemed equally pleased with his companion.

"Troth, sir," he said, "I am well content to meet one wi' whom I can have a rational conversation, for I have been fairly put out. You see, sir, a Radical fellow came into the coach. It was the only time I ever saw a Radical; an' he begun abusing everything, saying that this wasna a kintra fit to live in. And first he abused the king. Sir, I stood that. And then he abused the constitution. Sir, I stood that. And then he abused the farmers. Well, sir, I stood it all. But then he took to abusing the yeomanry. Now, sir, you ken I couldna stand that, for I am a yeoman mysel'; so I was under the necessity of being a wee bit rude-like till him. So I seized him by the scruff of the neck: 'Do ye see that window, sir? Apologeeze, apologeeze this very minute, or I'll just put your head through the window.' Wi' that he apologeezed. 'Now, sir,' I said, 'you'll gang out o' the coach.' And wi' that I opened the door, and shot him out intil the road; and that's all I ever saw o' the Radical."

"Gathering Up the Fragments"

The inveterate snuff-taker, like the dram-drinker, felt severely the being deprived of his accustomed stimulant, as in the following instance: A severe snowstorm in the Highlands which lasted for several weeks, having stopped all communications betwixt neighboring hamlets, the snuff-boxes were soon reduced to their last pinch. Borrowing and begging from all the neighbors within reach were first resorted to, but when these failed they were all alike reduced to the longing which unwillingly-abstinent snuff-takers alone know. The minister of the parish was amongst the unhappy number, the craving was so intense that study was out of the question, and he became quite restless. As a last resource, the beadle was dispatched, through the snow, to a neighboring glen, in the hope getting a supply; but he came back as unsuccessful as he went.

"What's to be dune, John?" was the minister's pathetic inquiry.

John shook his head, as much as to say that he could not tell; but immediately thereafter started up, as if a new idea had occurred to him. He came back in a few minutes, crying, "Hae!"

The minister, too eager to be scrutinizing, took a long, deep pinch, and then said, "Whaur did you get it?"

"I soupit (swept) the poupit," was John's expressive reply.

The minister's accumulated superfluous Sabbath snuff now came into good use.

Sleepy Churchgoers

The bowls of rum punch which so remarkably characterized the Glasgow dinners of last century, and the early part of the present, it is to be feared, made some of the congregation given to somnolency on the Sundays following. The members of the town council often adopted Saturdays for such meetings; accordingly, the Rev. Mr. Thorn, an excellent clergyman, took occasion to mark this propensity with some acerbity. A dog had been very troublesome, when the minister at last gave orders to the beadle, "Take out that dog; he'd wauken a Glasgow magistrate. " [7]

A Highland Chief and His Doctor