The "Daft Highland Laird," a noted character in Edinburgh at the latter end of last century, one day accosted the Hon. Henry Erskine, as he was entering the Parliament House. Erskine inquired of the "laird" how he did.
"Oh, very well!" answered the laird; "but I'll tell ye what, Harry, tak' in Justice wi' ye," pointing to one of the statues over the old porch of the House; "for she has stood lang i' the outside, and it would be a treat to see her inside, like other strangers!"
Wit and Humor Under Difficulties
Sandy Gordon, the town-crier of Maybole, was a character in his way. At one period of his life he had been an auctioneer and appraiser, although his "louring drouth" interfered sadly with the business, but neither poverty nor misfortune could blunt Sandy's relish for a joke. One day, going down the street he encountered his son riding on an ass.
"Weel, Jock," quoth he, "you're a riding on your brither."
"Ay, father," rejoined the son, "I didna ken this was ane o' yours tae."
At a neighboring village he had one day sold his shoes to slake his thirst. After the transaction he was discovered seated on the roadside, gazing on his bare feet, and soliloquizing in this strain—"Step forrit, barefit Gordon, if it's no' on you, it's in you."
He was once taking a walk into the country, when he met Sir David Hunter Blair.
"Where are you for to-day, Gordon?" asked the baronet.