“Do you never tak’ a drap yersel’, sir?” inquired John.
“I do; but, John, you must consider the difference between your circumstances and mine.”
“Very true, sir,” said John; “but do ye ken hoo the streets o’ Jerusalem were keepit clean?”
“No, I am not sure that I do, John.”
“Weel, then, I’ll tell ye. It was just by ilka bodie keepin’ their ain door-stane soopit.”
The argument, doubtless, was not further continued on that occasion.
The minister of one of the Dundee parish churches had a beadle called Donald, who was a worthy and useful man. No fault could be found against him except his being too fond of a dram. At a meeting of the Session one night Donald was so unsteady in his gait that, to prevent an accident, one of the elders had to go to his assistance in lighting the gas, which could only be reached by a chair, or steps. The habit had become so marked of late that it was decided to have Donald “up.” On his appearing, the minister, in his most impressive manner, said, “Donald, the Session has asked me to remonstrate with you on your intemperate habits, which seem to have become worse recently.”
Donald, with as great a look of offended dignity as in the circumstances he could assume, replied, “I never takes more than what’s good for me, shir; did you ever see me the—(hic)—worse of drink?”
The Session was not a little amused; but the minister, still keeping his gravity, said, “Well, Donald, we have pretty plain evidence to-night. And not very long ago I saw you clinging to a railing in the Nethergate, and, so that you might not know I saw you, I crossed to the other side of the street.”