"Weel, ye see," replied the prisoner, "I had a bit of pain in my side, and my mither tauld me tae gang tae the doctor's and tak' something."
"Oh, yes," said the judge, "but surely she didn't tell you to go and take an eight-day clock!"
The prisoner was evidently nonplused, but it was only for a moment. Turning to the judge, a bright smile of humor stealing over his countenance, he replied quietly:
"There's an auld proverb that says, 'Time an' the doctur cure a' diseases,' an' sae I thocht"—but the remainder was lost in the laughter of the court.
A Case in Which Comparisons Were Odious
The late Rev. Dr. John Hunter, the much-loved minister of the Tron Parish, Edinburgh, had a call one morning from one of his many poor parishioners, who said he had come to ask a favor. On the worthy minister's requesting him to specify its nature, he replied, "Weel, sir, it's to marry me."
"Very good, John," the minister said; "let me know the place, day and hour, and I shall be at your service."
"But, sir," the bridegroom answered, "it's the noo!" (The bride was waiting outside.)
"Filthy and untidy as you are! No, no; go home and wash, and dress yourself, and then I shall be prepared to perform the ceremony."
"Bless ye, sir, ye should see her!" was the response of the applicant.