Scotch Wit and Humor

Absence of Humor – Illustrated

Few amusements in the world are funnier than the play of different ideas under similar sounds, and it would be hard to find a thing more universally understood and caught at than a pun; but there really are individuals so made that a word can mean but one thing to them, and even metaphors must go on all-fours. Lord Morpeth used to tell of a Scotch friend of his who, to the remark that some people could not feel a jest unless it was fired at them with a cannon, replied: "Weel, but how can ye fire a jest out of a cannon, man?"

The Best Time to Quarrel

In Lanarkshire, there lived a sma' laird named Hamilton, who was noted for his eccentricity. On one occasion, a neighbor waited on him, and requested his name as an accommodation to a bill for twenty pounds at three months date, which led to the following characteristic and truly Scottish colloquy:

"Na, na, I canna do that."

"What for no', laird? Ye hae dune the same thing for ithers."

"Ay, ay, Tammas, but there's wheels within wheels ye ken naething about; I canna do't."

"It's a sma' affair to refuse me, laird."

"Weel, ye see, Tammas, if I was to pit my name till't ye wad get the siller frae the bank, and when the time came round, ye wadna be ready, and I wad hae to pay't; sae then you and me wad quarrel; sae we mae just as weel quarrel the noo, as lang's the siller's in ma pouch."

The Horse That Kept His Promise

A laird sold a horse to an Englishman, saying, "You buy him as you see him; but he's an honest beast." The purchaser took him home. In a few days he stumbled and fell, to the damage of his own knees and his rider's head. On this the angry purchaser remonstrated with the laird, whose reply was, "Weel, sir, I told ye he was an honest beast; many a time has he threatened to come down with me, and I kenned he would keep his word some day."

A "Grand" Piano

At Glasgow, in a private house, Dr. Von Bulow, having been asked by his hostess what he thought of her piano, replied in these words: "Madam, your piano leaves something to be desired. It needs new strings," he added, in answer to the lady's inquiries as to what it really required. "The hammers, too, want new leather," he continued; "and, while you are about it, with the new leather, you may as well have new wood. Then, when the inside of your piano has been completely renovated," he concluded, having now worked himself into a rage, "call in two strong men, throw it out of the window, and burn it in the street."

Scottish Patriotism

It is more common in Scotland than in England to find national feeling breaking out in national humor upon great events connected with national history. The following is perhaps as good as any: The Rev. Robert Scott, a Scotchman, who forgot not Scotland in his southern vicarage, tells me that at Inverary, some thirty years ago, he could not help overhearing the conversation of some Lowland cattle-dealers in the public room in which he was. The subject of the bravery of our navy being started, one of the interlocutors expressed his surprise that Nelson should have issued his signal at Trafalgar in the terms, "England expects," etc. He was met with the answer (which seemed highly satisfactory to the rest), "Ay, Nelson only said 'expects' of the English; he said nothing of Scotland, for he kent the Scotch would do theirs."

"Purpose" – not "Performance" – Heaven's Standard

The following occurred between a laird and an elder: A certain laird in Fife, well known for his parsimonious habits, whilst his substance largely increased did not increase his liberality, and his weekly contribution to the church collection never exceeded the sum of one penny. One day, however, by mistake he dropped into the plate at the door a five-shilling piece, but discovering his error before he was seated in his pew, hurried back, and was about to replace the crown by his customary penny, when the elder in attendance cried out, "Stop, laird; ye may put in what ye like, but ye maun tak' naething out!" The laird, finding his explanations went for nothing, at last said, "Aweel, I suppose I'll get credit for it in heaven." "Na, na, laird," said the elder, "ye'll only get credit for a penny."

The Book Worms

Robert Burns once met with a copy of Shakespeare in a nobleman's library, the text of which had been neglected and had become worm-eaten. It was beautifully bound. Burns at once wrote the following lines:

Through and through the inspired leaves,Ye maggots, make your windings;But oh! respect his lordship's tastes,And spare his golden bindings. [2]

"Uncertainty of Life" from Two Good Points of View

"Ah, sir," said a gloomy-looking minister of the Scotch Kirk, addressing a stranger who was standing on the bridge of the Lord of the Isles, as she steamed through the Kyles of Bute, "does the thought ever occur to ye of the great oncertainty of life?"

"Indeed it does," returned the stranger, briskly, "many times a day."

"And have you ever reflected, sir," went on the minister, "that we may be launched into eternity at any instant?"

"Yes," returned the stranger, "I have thought of that, and said it, too, thousands of times."

"Indeed," ejaculated the parson; "then it is possible I am speaking to a brother meenister?"

"Well, no," answered the other promptly, "you are not. If you must know, I am traveling agent of the Royal Lynx Life Assurance Association; and, if you are not assured, I can strongly recommend you to give our office a turn. You will find special terms for ministers in Table K of our prospectus"; and handing the astonished divine a printed leaflet from his satchel, he left him without another word.

Providing a Mouthful for the Cow

Old Maggie Dee had fully her share of Scotch prudence and economy. One bonnet had served her turn for upwards of a dozen years, and some young ladies who lived in the neighborhood, in offering to make and present her with a new one, asked whether she would prefer silk or straw as material.

"Weel, my lassies," said Maggie, after mature deliberation, "since ye insist on giein' me a bonnet, I think I'll tak' a strae ane; it will, maybe, juist be a mou'fu' to the coo when I'm through wi't."

A Poor Place for a Cadger

An English traveler had gone on a fine Highland road so long, without having seen an indication of fellow-travelers, that he became astonished at the solitude of the country; and no doubt before the Highlands were so much frequented as they are in our time, the roads had a very striking aspect of solitariness. Our traveler at last coming up to an old man breaking stones, he asked him if there was any traffic on this road – was it at all frequented?

"Ay," he said, "it's no' ill at that; there was a cadger body yestreen, and there's yoursell the day."

The Kirk of Lamington

As cauld a wind as ever blew,A caulder kirk, and in't but few;As cauld a minister's e'er spak',Ye'se a' be het ere I come back. [2]

"Lost Labor"

One of Dr. Macknight's parishioners, a humorous blacksmith, who thought his pastor's writing of learned books was a sad waste of time, being asked if the doctor was at home, answered: "Na, na; he's awa to Edinbro' on a foolish job."

The doctor had gone off to the printer's with his laborious and valuable work, "The Harmony of the Four Gospels." On being further asked what this useless work might be which engaged a minister's time and attention, the blacksmith replied: "He's gane to mak' four men agree wha never cast (fell) out."

A New Story Book – at the Time

Sir Walter Scott once stated that he kept a Lowland laird waiting for him in the library at Abbotsford, and that when he came in he found the laird deep in a book which Sir Walter perceived to be Johnson's Dictionary.

"Well, Mr. – ," said Sir Walter, "how do you like your book?"

"They're vera pretty stories, Sir Walter," replied the laird, "but they're unco' short."

Will Any Gentleman Oblige "a Lady"?

In a tramway car at Glasgow, one wet afternoon, a woman of fifty – made up to look as nearly like twenty-five as possible – got on board at a crossing, to find every seat occupied. She stood for a moment, and then selecting a poorly dressed man of about forty years of age, she observed: "Are there no gentlemen on the car?"

"I dinna ken," he replied, as he looked up and down. "If there's nane, I'll hunt up one for you at the end of the line."

There was an embarrasing silence for a moment, and then a light broke in on him all of a sudden, and he rose and said: "But ye can hae this seat: I'm aye wellin' to stan' and gi'e my seat to an auld bodie."

That decided her. She gave him a look which he will not forget till his dying day, and grasping the strap she refused to sit down, even when five seats had become vacant.

Ham and Cheese

On one occasion the late Rev. Walter Dunlop, of the U.P. Church, Dumfries, after a hard day's labor, and while at "denner-tea," as he called it, kept incessantly praising the "haam," and stating that "Mrs. Dunlop at hame was as fond o' haam like that as he was," when the mistress kindly offered to send her the present of a ham.

"It's unco' kin' o' ye, unco' kin' – but I'll no' pit ye to the trouble; I'll just tak' it hame on the horse afore me."

When, on leaving, he mounted, and the ham was put into the sack, some difficulty was experienced in getting it to lie properly. His inventive genius soon cut the Gordian-knot.

"I think, mistress, a cheese in the ither en' would mak' a gran' balance."

The hint was immediately acted on, and, like another John Gilpin, he moved away with his "balance true." [7]

"A Reduction on a Series"

When the son of a certain London banker had eloped to Scotland with a great heiress whom he married, still retaining a paternal taste for parsimony, he objected to the demand of two guineas made by the "priest" at Gretna Green, stating that Captain – had reported the canonical charge to be only five shillings. "True," replied Vulcan, "but Captain – is an Irishman, and I've married him five times; so I consider him a regular customer; whereas, I may never see your face again."

The Selkirk Grace 1

Some hae meat, and canna eat,And some wad eat that want it;But we hae meat and we can eat,And sae the Lord be thankit. [2]

Inconsistencies of "God's People"

An entertaining anecdote, illustrative of life in the Scotch Highlands, is told by a border minister who once found himself a guest at a Presbytery meeting.

"After dinner, though there was no wine, there was no lack of whiskey. This, each made into toddy, weak or strong, just as he liked it. No set speeches were made or toasts proposed. After each had drunk two or three tumblers, and no voice was heard above the hum of conversation, the stranger got to his feet, and craving the leave of the company, begged to propose a toast. All were silent, until the moderator, with solemn voice, told him that God's people in that part of the country were not in the habit of drinking toasts. He felt himself rebuked, yet rejoined, that he had been in a good many places, but had never before seen God's people drink so much toddy."

Sending Him to Sleep

"Sleepin, Tonald?" said a Highlander to a drowsy acquaintance, whom he found ruminating on the grass in a horizontal position.

"No, Tuncan," was the ready answer.

"Then, Tonald, would you'll no' lend me ten and twenty shillings?" was the next question.

"Ough, ough!" was the response with a heavy snore; "I'm sleepin' now, Tuncan, my lad."

How convenient it would be if we could always evade troublesome requests, like our Highlander here, by feigning ourselves in the land of dreams!

Wiser Than Solomon

Two Scotch lairds conversing, one said to the other that he thought they were wiser than Solomon. "How's that?" said the other. "Why," said the first, "he did not know whether his son might not be a fool, and we know that ours are sure to be."

Modern Improvements

Sir Alexander Ramsay had been constructing, upon his estate in Scotland, a piece of machinery, which was driven by a stream of water running through the home farmyard. There was a threshing machine, a winnowing machine, a circular saw for splitting trees, and other contrivances.

Observing an old man, who had been long about the place, looking very attentively at all that was going on, Sir Alexander said:

"Wonderful things people can do now, Robby?"

"Ay, indeed, Sir Alexander," said Robby; "I'm thinking that if Solomon was alive now, he'd be thought naething o'!" [7]

Knox and Claverhouse

The shortest chronicle of the Reformation, by Knox, and of the wars of Claverhouse (Claver'se) in Scotland, which we know of, is that of an old lady who, in speaking of those troublous times remarked: "Scotland had a sair time o't. First we had Knox deavin' us wi' his clavers, and syne we've had Claver'se deavin' us wi' his knocks."

A Scotch Fair Proclamation of Olden Days

"Oh, yes! – an' that's e'e time. Oh, yes! – an' that's twa times. Oh, yes! – an that's the third and last time. All manner of person or persons whatsover let 'em draw near, an' I shall let 'em ken that there is a fair to be held at the muckle town of Langholm, for the space of aught days, wherein any hustrin, custrin, land-hopper dub-shouper, or gent-the-gate-swinger, shall breed any hurdam, durdam, rabble-ment, babble-ment or squabble-ment, he shall have his lugs tacked to the muckle throne with a nail of twa-a-penny, until he's down on his bodshanks, and up with his muckle doup, and pray to ha'en nine times, 'God bless the King,' and thrice the muckle Laird of Reltown, paying a goat to me, Jemmy Ferguson, baillie to the aforesaid manor. So you've heard my proclamation, and I'll gang hame to my dinner."

"Though Lost to Sight – to Memory Dear!"

Some time ago a good wife, residing in the neighborhood of Perth, went to town to purchase some little necessaries, and to visit several of her old acquaintances. In the course of her peregrinations she had the misfortune to lose a one-pound note. Returning home with a saddened heart she encountered her husband, employed in the cottage garden, to whom she communicated at great length all her transactions in town, concluding with the question: "But man you canna guess what's befaun me?"

"Deed, I canna guess," said the husband, resting musingly on his spade.

"Aweel," rejoined his helpmate, "I hae lost a note; but dinna be angry – for we ought to be mair than thankfu' that we had ane to lose!"

The Philosophy of Battle and Victory

During the long French war two old ladies in Scotland were going to the kirk. The one said to the other: "Was it no' a wonderful thing that Breetish were aye victorious in battle?"

"Not a bit," said the other lady; "dinna ye ken the Breetish aye say their prayers before gaun into battle?"

The other replied: "But canna the French say their prayers as weel?"

The reply was most characteristic. "Hoot! sic jabberin' bodies; wha could understand them if thae did?"

Patriotism and Economy

When Sir John Carr was at Glasgow, in the year 1807, he was asked by the magistrates to give his advice concerning the inscription to be placed on Nelson's monument, then just completed. The knight recommended this brief record: "Glasgow to Nelson."

"True," said the baillies, "and as there is the town of Nelson near us, we might add, 'Glasgow to Nelson nine miles,' so that the column might serve for the milestone and a monument."

Husband! Husband! Cease Your Strife!

"Husband, husband, cease your strife,Nor longer idly rave, sir!Tho' I am your wedded wife,Yet, I'm not your slave, sir!""One of two must still obey,Nancy, Nancy;Is it man, or woman, say,My spouse, Nancy?""If 'tis still the lordly word —'Service' and 'obedience,'I'll desert my sov'reign lord,And so, good-by, allegiance!""Sad will I be, so bereft,Nancy, Nancy!Yet, I'll try to make a shift,My spouse, Nancy.""My poor heart, then break it must,My last hour, I'm near it;When you lay me in the dust,Think, think how you'll bear it.""I will hope and trust in heaven,Nancy, Nancy;Strength to bear it will be given,My spouse, Nancy.""Well, sir, from the silent deadStill I'll try to daunt you,Ever round your midnight bedHorrid sprites shall haunt you.""I'll wed another, like my dearNancy, Nancy;Then, all hell will fly for fearMy spouse, Nancy." [2]

A Scathing Scottish Preacher in Finsbury Park

People in Finsbury Park, one Sunday in August, 1890, were much edified by the drily humorous remarks of a canny Scotchman who was holding a religious service. The "eternal feminine" came in for severe strictures, this man from auld Reekie speaking of woman as "a calamity on two legs." He had also a word or two to say on government meanness, of which this is an illustration. An old friend of his who had been through Waterloo, retired from the army on the munificent pension of 13½d. per day. When he died the government claimed his wooden leg! [3]

A Saving Clause

A Scotch teetotal society has been formed among farmers. There is a clause in one of the rules that permits the use of whiskey at sheep-dipping time. One worthy member keeps a sheep which he dips every day.

The Man at the Wheel

Dr. Adam, in the intervals of his labors as rector of the High School of Edinburgh, was accustomed to spend many hours in the shop of his friend Booge, the famous cutler, sometimes grinding knives and scissors, at other times driving the wheel. One day two English gentlemen, attending the university, called upon Booge (for he was an excellent Greek and Latin scholar), in order that he might construe for them some passage in Greek which they could not understand. On looking at it, Booge found that the passage "feckled" him; but, being a wag, he said to the students, "Oh, it's quite simple. My laboring man at the wheel will translate it for you. John!" calling to the old man, "come here a moment, will you?"

The apparent laborer came forward, when Booge showed him the passage in Greek, which the students wished to have translated. The old man put on his spectacles, examined the passage, and proceeded to give a learned exposition, in the course of which he cited several scholastic authors in support of his views as to its proper translation. Having done so, he returned to his cutler's wheel.

Of course the students were amazed at the learning of the laboring man. They said they had heard much of the erudition of the Edinburgh tradesmen, but what they had listened to was beyond anything they could have imagined. [1]

Spiking an Old Gun

When Mr. Shirra was parish minister of St. Miriam's, one of the members of the church was John Henderson, or Anderson – a very decent douce shoemaker – and who left the church and joined the Independents, who had a meeting in Stirling. Some time afterwards, when Mr. Shirra met John on the road, he said, "And so, John, I understand you have become an Independent?"

"'Deed, sir," replied John, "that's true."

"Oh, John," said the minister, "I'm sure you ken that a rowin' (rolling) stane gathers nae fog" (moss).

"Ay," said John, "that's true, too; but can ye tell me what guid the fog does to the stane?" [7]

Playing at Ghosts

Some boys boarded with a teacher in Scotland, whose house was not very far from a country church-yard. They determined to alarm the old grave-digger, who was in the habit of reaching his cottage, often late at night, by a short cut through the burying-ground. One boy, named Warren, who was especially mischievous, and had often teased old Andrew, dressed himself up in a white sheet, and, with his companions, hid behind the graves.

After waiting patiently, but not without some anxiety and fear, for Andrew, he was at last seen approaching the memorial-stone behind which Warren was ensconced. Soon a number of low moans were heard coming from among the graves.

"Ah, keep us a'!" exclaimed Andrew. "What's that?"

And as he approached slowly and cautiously towards the tombstones, a white figure arose, and got taller and taller before his eyes.

"What's that?" asked Andrew, with a voice which seemed to tremble with fear, although, if anyone had seen how he grasped his stick, he would not have seen his hand tremble.

"It's the resurrection!" exclaimed the irreverent Bully Warren.

"The resurrection!" replied Andrew. "May I tak' the leeberty o' askin'," he continued slowly, approaching the ghost, "if it's the general ane, or are ye jist takin' a quiet daunder by yersel'?"

So saying, Andrew rushed at the ghost, and seizing it – while a number of smaller ghosts rose, and ran in terror to the schoolhouse – he exclaimed, "Come awa' wi' me! I think I surely haena buried ye deep eneuch, when ye can rise so easy. But I hae dug a fine deep grave this morning, and I'll put ye in't, and cover ye up wi' sae muckle yirth, that, my werd, ye'll no' get out for another daunder."

So saying, Andrew, by way of carrying out his threats, dragged Master Bully Warren towards his newly-made grave.

The boy's horror may be imagined, as Andrew was too powerful to permit of his escape. He assailed the old man with agonized petitions for mercy, for he was a great coward.

"I'm not a ghost! Oh, Andrew, I'm Peter Warren! Andrew! Don't burry me! I'll never again annoy you! Oh – o – o – o – o!"

Andrew, after he had administered what he considered due punishment, let Warren off with the admonition: "Never daur to speak o' gude things in yon way. Never play at ghaists again, or leevin' folk like me may grup you, an' mak' a ghaist o' ye. Aff wi ye!"

"Two Blacks Don't Make a White"

The family of a certain Scotch nobleman having become rather irregular in their attendance at church, the fact was observed and commented on by their neighbors. A lady, anxious to defend them and to prove that the family pew was not so often vacant as was supposed, said that his lordship's two black servants were there every Sunday. "Ay," said a gentleman present, "but two blacks don't mak' a white."

From Pugilism to Pulpit

Fuller was in early life, when a farmer lad at Soham, famous as a boxer; not quarrelsome, but not without "the stern delight" a man of strength and courage feels in his exercise. Dr. Charles Stewart, of Dunearn, whose rare gifts and graces as a physician, a divine, a scholar, and a gentleman, live only in the memory of those few who knew and survive him, liked to tell how Mr. Fuller used to say, that when he was in the pulpit, and saw a buirdly man come along the passage, he would instinctively draw himself up, measure his imaginary antagonist, and forecast how he would deal with him, his hands meanwhile condensing into fists, and tending to "square." He must have been a hard hitter if he boxed as he preached – what "the fancy" would call "an ugly customer." [4]

A Consistent Seceder

A worthy old seceder used to ride from Gargrennock to Bucklyvie every Sabbath to attend the Burgher Kirk. One day, as he rode past the parish kirk of Kippen, the elder of the place accosted him, "I'm sure, John, it's no' like the thing to see you ridin' in sic' a downpour o' rain sae far by to thae seceders. Ye ken the mercifu' man is mercifu' to his beast. Could ye no step in by?"

"Weel," said John, "I wadna care sae muckle about stablin' my beast inside, but it's anither thing mysel' gain' in." [7]

"No Road this Way!"

The following anecdote is told regarding the late Lord Dundrennan: A half-silly basket-woman passing down his avenue at Compstone one day, he met her, and said, "My good woman, there's no road this way."