your service. Excuse me for leaving you alone a few moments. I have settled my business, and we will have a cigar together, if you like."
So saying, he opened the door of a small cupboard made in the wall, and cleverly hidden by a picture of "John Knox imploring Mary Stuart to abjure the Catholic faith." It was, as you see, rather a mysterious library. From this cupboard he took some glasses – and something to fill them agreeably withal. Then, without betraying the slightest embarrassment, without a smile or a glance, he brought the twin volumes which had so astonished me, and laid them on the table. I had the pleasure of making closer acquaintance with the cigars, that seemed to bring a recommendation from Moses and the prophets.
An anecdote on the ready wit of Donald:
He meets his pastor, who remonstrates with him upon the subject of his intemperate habits.
"You are too fond of whisky, Donald; you ought to know very well that whisky is your enemy."
"But, minister, have you not often told us that we ought to love our enemies?" says Donald, slyly.
"Yes, Donald; but I never told you that you should swallow them," replies the pastor, who was as witty as his parishioner.
What anecdotes I heard in Scotland on the subject of whisky, to be sure!
Here is a good one for the last. I owe it to a learned professor of the Aberdeen University.
Donald feels the approach of death.
The minister of his village is at his bedside, preparing him by pious exhortations for the great journey.
"Have you anything on your mind, Donald? Is there any question you would like to ask me?" And the minister bent down to listen to the dying man's reply.
"Na, meenister, I'm na afeard… I wad like to ken whether there'll be whisky in heaven?"
Upon his spiritual counsellor remonstrating with him upon such a thought at such a moment, he hastened to add, with a knowing look:
"Oh! it's no that I mind, meenister; I only thoucht I'd like to see it on the table!"
CHAPTER VI
Democratic Spirit in Scotland. – One Scot as good as another. – Amiable Beggars. – Familiarity of Servants. – Shout all together! – A Scotchman who does not admire his Wife. – Donald's Pride. – The Queen and her Scotch People. – Little Presents keep alive Friendship.
The Scotch are an essentially democratic people. I take the word in its social, not its political, sense; although it might be asserted without hesitation, that if ever there was a nation formed for living under a republic, it is the Scotch – serious, calm, wise, law-abiding, and ever ready to respect the opinions of others. Yet the Scotch are perhaps the most devoted subjects of the English crown.
The English and Scotch are republicans, with democratic institutions, living under a monarchy.
When I say that the Scotch are a democratic people, I mean that in Scotland, still more than in England, one man is as good as another.
The Scot does not admit the existence of demigods. In his eyes, the robes of the priest or judge cover a man, not an oracle.
Always ready for a bit of argument, he criticises an order, a sermon, a verdict even.
Religious as he is, yet he will weigh every utterance of his pastor before accepting it. He respects the law; but if his bailie inflicts on him a fine that he thinks unjust, he does not scruple to tell him a piece of his mind; and if ever you wish to be told your daily duty at home, you have but to engage a Scotch servant.
Donald knows how to accept social inferiority; he may perhaps envy his betters, but he does not hate them. He never abdicates his manhood's dignity: an obsequious Scotchman is unknown.
In Scotland, even a beggar has none of those abject manners that denote his class elsewhere. His look seems to say: —
"Come, my fine fellow, listen to me a minute: you have money and I have none; you might give me a penny."
I remember one in Edinburgh, who stopped me politely, yet without touching his cap, and said:
"You look as if you had had a good dinner, sir; won't you give me something to buy a meal with?"
I took him to a cook-shop and bought him a pork pie.
"If you don't mind," said he, "I'll have veal."
Why certainly! everyone to his taste, to be sure.
I acquiesced with alacrity. He was near shaking hands with me.
Donald is plain spoken with everyone. In Scotland, as in France, there are still to be found old servants whose familiarity would horrify an Englishman, but whom the bonhomie of Scotch masters tolerates without a murmur, in consideration of the fidelity and devotion of these honest servants.
Like every man who is conscious of his strength, the Scot is good-humoured; he rarely loses his temper.
The familiarity of the servant and good-humour of the master, in Scotland, are delightfully illustrated in the two following anecdotes, which were told me in Scotland.
Donald is serving at table. Several guests claim his attention at once: one wants bread, another wine, another vegetables. Donald does not know which way to turn. Presently, losing patience, he apostrophises the company thus:
"That's it; cry a'together – that's the way to be served!"
A laird, in the county of Aberdeen, had a well-stocked fowl yard, but could never get any new-laid eggs for breakfast.
He wanted to penetrate the mystery. So he lay in ambush, and discovered that his gardener's wife went to the hen-roost every morning, filled her basket with the eggs, and made straight for the market to sell them.
The first time he met his gardener, he said to him:
"James, I like you very weel, for I think you serve me faithfully; but, between oursels, I canna say that I hae muckle admiration for your wife."
"I'm no surprised at that, laird," replied James, "for I dinna muckle admire her mysel!"
What could the poor laird say? This fresh union of sympathies united them only more closely.
"Proud as a Highlander" is a common saying. His gait tells you what he is. He walks with head thrown back, and shoulders squared; his step is firm and springy. It is a man who says to himself twenty times a day:
"I am a Scotchman."
Such an exalted opinion has he of his race that when Queen Victoria gave Princess Louise to the Marquis of Lorne in marriage, the general feeling in the Highlands was, as everybody knows, "The Queen maun be a prood leddy the day!"
The English were astonished at the Queen's consenting to give her daughter to one of her subjects. They looked upon it as a mésalliance. The Scotch were not far from doing the same – a Campbell marry a simple Brunswick!
It is in the Highlands that this national pride is preserved intact. Mountainous countries always keep their characteristics longer than others.
Everyone knows that the Queen of England passes a
