“Man, Jamie,” exclaimed an individual whom he met on the road one day, “have ye heard the news?” (Jamie had a well-known penchant for news).
“Na, faith I,” said Jamie, all expectation. “What news, man?”
“O’d man,” said he, “there’s seven miles o’ the sea burned at Newburgh this morning.”
“Ay, man,” replied Jamie, apparently very much in earnest. “Weel, I little ferlie, for I saw a flock o’ skate that darkened the very air fleein’ ower this way about breakfast-time. They gaed ower by Waterton to the woods o’ Tolquhon, and they’ll likely be biggin’ their nests there.”
As is often the case with naturals, Jamie was possessed of extraordinary strength, particularly in his arms; and in this connection there is a good story told of him. There happened to be in Aberdeen an English regiment, the commander of which was a gasconading fellow, who constantly bragged of the extraordinary strength of his men. One day the Laird of Udny and this officer were of the same party at dinner. When the glass began to circulate, the officer began to boast, and, as was his wont, got louder and louder in praise of his men, as he became more and more heated with wine. At length, Udny, believing that the insult was levelled at his countrymen, by the pertinacity of the officer’s boast, said rather smartly—
“From all accounts, these famous grenadiers of yours are the best wrestlers that England can produce. I’ll take you a wager of twenty guineas that the lad who herds my cows, and carries peats and water to the kitchen, will throw the best man in your regiment.”
The officer was in a paroxysm of rage, but confident that his men were as good as he had represented them to be, he readily took the bet, clenching it with an oath, and added that the pride of the Scotch would soon be laid as low as it was on Drummossie Moor.
Time and place for the trial of strength being appointed, Udny, after ordering his servant to purchase half a pound of fine twist tobacco, set off to his residence. Fearing that Jamie might not relish the job he had prepared for him, Udny thought it the wisest course to coax him a little, and knowing his passionate fondness for tobacco, he presented the half-pound, at the same time remarking—
“I have got myself into a scrape, Fleeman, and no man but you can take me out of it.”