I was much amused by the answer of one of those under the following circumstances:--An Ayrshire gentleman, who was from the first a very bad shot, or rather no shot at all, when out on 1st of September, having failed, time after time, in bringing down a single bird, had at last pointed out to him by his attendant bag-carrier a large covey, thick and close on the stubbles.

"Noo, Mr.Jeems, let drive at them, just as they are!" Mr.
Jeems did let drive, as advised, but not a feather remained to testify the shot.

All flew off, safe and sound--"Hech, sir (remarks his friend), but ye've made thae yins _shift their quarters_." The two following anecdotes of rejoinders from Scottish guidwives, and for which I am indebted, as for many other kind communications, to the Rev.Mr.Blair of Dunblane, appear to me as good examples of the peculiar Scottish pithy phraseology which we refer to, as any that I have met with.
An old lady from whom the "Great Unknown" had derived many an ancient tale, was waited upon one day by the author of "Waverley." On his endeavouring to give the authorship the go-by, the old dame protested, "D'ye think, sir, I dinna ken my ain groats in ither folk's kail[166] ?" A conceited packman called at a farm-house in the west of Scotland, in order to dispose of some of his wares.

The goodwife was offended by his southern accent, and his high talk about York, London, and other big places.

"An' whaur come ye frae yersell ?" was the question of the guidwife.