As I have already remarked, the Scot does not seek to appear witty, still less amusing, and there lies the charm. His remarks are not intended to be quaint, but are intensely so. Their drollery lies in the dialect and the combination of ideas. The Scotch are quick to seize the humorous side of things, and that without being aware of it. Their remarks are made with an imperturbable gravity, without a gesture, or the movement of a muscle.
I fancy I see still the old Scotch servant with whom I was speaking on the subject of a fire which would not burn in my room at a hotel. All at once she interrupted the conversation; she had just perceived, on the top of my head, a somewhat solitary lock of hair.
"Are ye growin' a moustache on the top o' your heid?" she exclaimed without a smile.
My first impulse was to bid her mind her business, and make my fire draw. But though I disliked the familiarity, I saw immediately that the good creature, a bony Scotchwoman of at least fifty summers, had not had the least intention of joking me, still less of vexing me. Her stolid expression, her quaint accent, to say nothing of the incongruous idea that had come to her lips, it all diverted me intensely, and I laughed well over it to the great astonishment of the worthy woman, who went away grumbling at the fire which had proved very obdurate.
The chimney continued to smoke horribly, and presently I rang the bell again.
The woman reappeared.
"This chimney smokes atrociously still," I said.
You should have seen her dry old face as she simply remarked:
"Eh, mony a ane has complained o' that chimney."
The familiarity of the Scotch servant is an old theme. The good humour of the master in Scotland encourages familiarity in the servant, and the fidelity of the latter causes it to be overlooked.