"It may be sae wi' the meal," he replied, coolly, "but I took care o' the saxpence mysel'."
An Epitaph to Order
The Rev. Dr. M'Culloch, minister of Bothwell at the end of last century, was a man of sterling independence and great self-decision. To a friend—Rev. Mr. Brisbane—he one day said, "You must write my epitaph if you survive me."
"I will do that," said Mr. Brisbane; "and you shall have it at once, doctor."
Next morning he received the following:
"Here lies, interred beneath this sod,
That sycophantish man of God,
Who taught an easy way to heaven,
Which to the rich was always given;
If he get in, he'll look and stare
To find some out that he put there."
A Variety Entertainment
There used to be a waggish ostler at one of the chief inns at Hertford, who delighted to make merry at the expense of any guests who gave themselves airs. The manner of the ostler was extremely deferential, and only those who knew him well were aware of the humor which almost always lurked beneath his civil replies to the questions put to him. One day a commercial traveler, a complete prig, who wanted to play the fine gentleman, entered the inn, and having despatched his dinner, rang the bell of the commercial room for "boots," who presently made his appearance, when the following colloquy took place:
Commercial: "Dull town, this. Any amusements, Boots?"