The Portland daily press., 1881-06-30
A Typical Scotch Laird.
lBlackwood's Magazine.

Balnamoon is dimly associated with boot
hose, coat tapped and square-pocketed, and
a cooked has perched on the top of a periwig.
His house stood among Enclosures of black fir
woods, in a dismal flat under one of the bleak
est of the Grampians, and several miles from
the nearest market-town. Such as it was, he
seldom stirred from it, further, at least than
his easy-paced hackney could carry him; and
he ruled his territory with a rod of iron. Moth
ing could persuade him to trust himself to
wheels, and he never slept from under his own
roof. lie lived well; but, as DIR. johnson
would have said, his table was rather plentiful
than delicate. 1t was supplied entirely, with
the exception of the liquors, from his own
sheotings or farms One leg of mutton faced
another; the roasted pigs came to tho table in
pairs, and dozen or so of fowls on a couple of
great "ashets" were sent up by way of "pretty
little kickshaws." II "a sans dire that the
laird soaked solemnly on that substantial foun-
dation-in fact, he was the ia nous topper who,
when his palate began to blunt with age pro-
nounced the cherry brandy he had been swill-
ing for port, "a pleasant, pure. fruity and gen.
erous wine, but very old in bottle"
Mr.. Gillies has one story of Balnamoon' s
drinking tastes, linking him, moreover, with
literary recollections by contraries, which we
do not remember to have met before The
laird had been entertaining friend at dinner
who was detained overnight by stress of wealth
er. The next morning the weather was, if
anything worse, and the laird demanded of the
servant who awoke him whether Sandie Hun
ter had come down stairs. The man answered
in the negative. tits an awful morning, We
say? Then yell gang direct to the parlor; see
that the fires blazin', LIGHT the cawnels, set
the punch bowl filled wi plottie on the break
fast table, steek bolt the sutherland wes
try what kind of a NIGHT it will mako The
1acf .,ub, L
ming the day with the punchbowl; and having
disposed OF breakfast in more Christian fash
ion, began to think about killing the morning
''If dared max sac free, Bonnymune, have We
nae auld buiks ABBOTT the house?' Bonnymune
as it happened, could accommodate his visitor
and led the way to a turret library, where the
shutters being opened, light was let in upon
tones that had been sleeping in the dust of a
generation. Hunter, who, though a rough di-
almond, was something of dilettdnte, stood as
tonished and entranced. There were shelves
that were filled with superb Elzevirs, and I'M
cut editions of the classics IN usunl Delphini
The laird, with the superciliousness of superb
or mind, grunted a contemptuOuS commentary
on Sandy Hunters inexplicable raptures. At
last the visitor turned to a compartment that
puzzled him. The volumes in it were verita-
bic, but there was no moving them; the laird
laughed and explained
THE skeryes [shelves] here was auld and
worm eaten; and yae stormy NIGHT the
Dulks ana SkeiVeS the glthor tell on the floor
wi a blatter like thunder. Then the grieve he
wanted the floor for an extraordinar crap
o. blue pitatoes; and John came to mend up the
shelves, and like an honest lad that he did.
But when the job was done, and he tried the
buiks, d-n them, they wudna fit. so he
ranged them regular on the floor, measured
them with his ruler and then measured the
shelves.
John and me communed the either, and I
CARED him TAX the saw to the biggest volumes,
and he sawed off an inch here and half an
inch there, till we made snod wark. Then the
buiks fitted, and packit them and John drove
them in VII his NELL"
After repeating story that might make a
book worms blood run COLI, we are glad to say
that the visit to the book-reom was brought to
close with fine example of retributive jus
tice. Mr.. Hunter proposed to borrow folio
that had taken his fancy. "Borrow!" reioined
the magnificent Goth, "didna 1 tell ye to cart
ava tie hale lot o. them. Pit the folio in
your saddle-bags, man; max kirk and mill
OFT, or LIGHT your pipe VII the paper" The
trouUdtNe proved to be the first edition OF
Shakespeare. 1t was sold afterward to virtu-
oso for 4500-an incident in the romance OF
book-hunting that equals anything related by
Mr.. Oldbuck of Snuffy Davy; and it was
enough to make Balnamoon turn in the grave
he was somewhat misery in everything ex-
cept his wine bills-to know that such q sum
had slipped through his fingers.