"He scrimps the auld wife baith in garnal and caddy
He snuffs what wad keep her in comfort and ease;
Rapee, Lundyfitt, Prince's Mixture, and Toddy,
She looks upon them as the worst o' her faes.
And we'll see an end o' her kooshian nar
While the auld carle's nose is upheld like a Czar."
Sharp has written some verses founded upon the following singular anecdote in Dean Ramsay's "Reminiscences of Scottish Life and Character:"
"The inveterate snuff-taker, like the dram-drinker, felt severely the being deprived of his accustomed stimulant, as in the following instance: A severe snow-storm in the Highlands, which lasted for several weeks, having stopped all communication 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 all were 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 resort, the beadle was dispatched through the snow, to a neighboring glen, in the hope of getting a supply; but he came back as unsuccessful as he went. 'What's to be done, 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 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, 'Whour 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."
Sweeping from the Pulpit.
"Near the Highlands,
Where the dry lands
Are divided into islands,
And distinguish'd from the mainland
As the Western Hebrides.
"Stormy weather,
Those who stay there,
Oftentimes for weeks together
Keep asunder from their neighbors,
Hemm'd about by angry seas.
"For, storm-batter'd,
Boats are shattered,
And their precious cargoes scatter'd
In the boist'rous Sound of Jura,
Or thy passage, Colonsay;
"While the seamen,
Like true freemen,
Battle bravely with the Demon
Of the storm, who strives to keep them
From their harbor in the bay.