The following is one of the best belonging to my part of the country, and to many persons I should perhaps apologise for introducing it at all.

The story has been told of various parties and localities, but no doubt the genuine laird was a laird of Balnamoon (pronounced in the country Bonnymoon), and that the locality was a wild tract of land, not far from his place, called Munrimmon Moor.

Balnamoon had been dining out in the neighbourhood, where, by mistake, they had put down to him after dinner cherry brandy, instead of port wine, his usual beverage.
The rich flavour and strength so pleased him that, having tasted it, he would have nothing else.

On rising from table, therefore, the laird would be more affected by his drink than if he had taken his ordinary allowance of port.

His servant Harry or Hairy was to drive him home in a gig, or whisky as it was called, the usual open carriage of the time.