On your feud or favour I’ll fairly venture;
Or that day I’ll be where few kings enter.
And also gave him many good admonitions and directions concerning the government of his kingdom and the well being of his soul; which drew tears from the king’s eyes when he read it.
WILL SCOTT
A celebrated attendant upon the Sheriff, well known for his activity in the execution of his orders, as well as for taking a bit comfortable guzzel when finances would afford it, was one Sabbath day snugly seated in the pew behind the Bailies at church. Will had not been there long till he was soon lull’d into sweet slumbers, and fancied himself seated along with his companions over a good Imperial Half-mutchkin, and in a short time the reckoning came a-paying, when some of the party insisted it was already paid; however, Will happened not to be of that opinion, and true to his integrity, bawled out with all his might in the midst of the sermon, “No, no, by my faith it’s no pay’t, we have had just a’e half-mutchkin, an’ twa bottles o’ ale and there’s no a fardin o’t pay’t.”
GRAVE-DIGGER OF SORN.
The Grave-digger of Sorn, Ayrshire, was as selfish and as mean a sinner as ever handled mattock, or carried mortcloth. He was a very quarrelsome and discontented old man, with a voice like the whistle of the wind thro’ a key-hole. On a bleak Sunday afternoon in the country, an acquaintance from a neighbouring parish accosted him one day, and asked how the world was moving with him, “Oh, very puirly, sir, very puirly indeed,” was the answer, “the yard has done naething ava for us this summer, if ye like to believe me, I havna buried a levin’ soul this sax weeks.”
THE END.