From this it may be inferred that in person Mr. Macnee was of superior height and build. His countenance was capable of great variety of expression; he imitated all sorts. of people, but gave offence to none; indeed, he was almost as much valued for his vigorous good sense and judgment as for his variety and brilliancy as a raconteur.

But if Macnee was facile princeps as an entertainer, there were some others who gave no little éclat to Mr. Thomson's lively board. Horatio M'Culloch, a great master of Highland landscape; John Sherriff, young, good-looking, and of fair promise as an animal-painter; and Robert Maxwell, an amateur in still life, but leading a life the reverse of still,all made Bellfield from time to time jovial. Maxwell, in particular, had mimical and musical gifts which rendered his society something to be coveted. Among those whom he could portray to the life was Mr. Thomson himself, the excellent host who was beloved and respected by us all. This became known to the old gentleman, who one merry evening insisted on being treated to a little of his own "counterfeit presentment."

"I can understand," he said, "an imitation of any one with some peculiarity of manner; but for myself, having no peculiarity at all, I do not see how imitation is in my case possible."

This was spoken with a prim and staccato but not unpleasing mode of utterance peculiar to him, which Maxwell, after much pressing, proceeded to echo in an entertaining, though no doubt somewhat exaggerated style.

Mr. Thomson scowled, and at the conclusion remarked, "A good personal imitation I enjoy above everything, but I can see nothing amusing in a gross caricature." Though the resentment thus exhibited was easily laughed away, the imitation was never, so far as I am aware, repeated.

Among those, too, whom I occasionally met at Bellfield were Dr. Macnish, the racy and ingenious "Modern Pythagorean" of "Blackwood," and Andrew Macgeorge, a more local celebrity, of literary and antiquarian tastes, and possessing a bright and facile pencil for caricature. But strangers of wider note had likewise been now and then attracted thither. A Russian prince had been Mr. Thomson's guest, while his small drawing-room had rung with a voice which had fascinated the capitals of Europe-that of the famous Madame Pasta, for whom Bellini had composed 66 Norma," and one or two of his finest operas.

A large album formed one of the usual attractions at Bellfield Cottage. To this all and sundry were invited to contribute. Eminent artists from a distance sometimes adorned its pages, and any one looking over the volume with an apparent lack of appreciation was apt to irritate Mr. Thomson to an extent which he could hardly conceal.

That the laird of Bellfield was easily moved to anger I discovered on my first visit. We were at breakfast, and he noticed that the hot ham-and-eggs had been served on cold plates. It was too late to correct the mistake, and we all protested that it made little difference. "Little difference?" he exclaimed in an excited tone,-" doited deevils!"

Truth to tell, Mr. Thomson was one of the most amiable of men. His flashes of anger were momentary; his benevolence shewed itself always. One Sunday afternoon in August I had a walk with him in the direction of Kirkintilloch. We had not gone far when we met a couple of decent men, probably handloom weavers belonging to the village. He was not conscious of having seen them before, but he stopped, made an affable remark about the weather, and then handed them the key of his garden, mentioning

that the "gooseberries were ripe," and that they might "enjoy a little treat."

They looked astonished, profusely thanked him, and after being assured that they were entirely welcome, were requested to hand the key into the house on leaving."

I ventured to express a hope, as we strolled on, that the men would do nothing unworthy of the privilege he had given them. But his answer was characteristic. "I have always observed," he said, "that if you put confidence in human nature, that confidence is never apt to be abused." In the evening when we were all assembled, Mr. Thomson proposed to read aloud for our edification either a sermon or one of Burns's poems. The young rogues-we were all young then declared a preference for the latter; when he selected and read with much unction the "Address to a Mouse," accompanied every verse with a little ejaculatory comment, such as "There's a world of fine philosophy there!" and concluded by exclaiming, “O Lord! it's worth a thousand sermons."

It was easy to perceive from the pathos of the worthy man's voice that he intended no irreverence. He was impressed with the beautiful moral of the poem, and his exclamation was pious and sincere."

We may add a characteristic and authentic anecdote of Mr. Thomson.

He was rather fond of making alterations on his house, and liked to have tradesmen working about him; and, as was the custom at that time, they were occasionally treated to a dram by the hands of Mr. Thomson himself.

On one occasion he had a squad of joiners employed, among whom was "Baldy M'Keoun," who happened to get the first glass of whisky of the round that day. The second man declined to have any as he was a teetotaller.

Mr. Thomson, whose old-fashioned courtesy forbade him to offer a rejected glass a second time, calmly raised his arm, poured the whisky on the ground, and after having refilled the glass passed it to the next workman.

Baldy, who was very fond of whisky, was horror-struck at the operation, and his face was a picture.

After Mr. Thomson left he expressed himself strongly at what he thought foolish waste, and wound up with, “Davart, did he never think I could hae ta'en anither glass?"

The Rev. David Gemmill ·

*

WAS the son of Alexander Gemmill and his wife

Gray.

He was born in the old Post Office building in the Ledgate, shortly before the American War.

He

His father was the tailor and clothier of the district. had a good connection with both gentle and semple, was of sober and thrifty habit, and came to have considerable property. He built the Old Post Office land, and acquired the Black Bull Inn, and nearly all the buildings down to Luggie Bridge.

Young David attended the parish school, and being of a quick inquisitive disposition, made considerable progress. When he came to be a lad of twelve, he was called upon to work beside his father. In this also he manifested his readiness to learn, and could mount the board and ply the needle almost as deftly as his father before him. There is the joke that in after days when he asked the laird of Kincaid to come to his wedding, "Ay," he said, "I will, gin ye sort up my coat afore that."

*

By Rev. Thomas Somerville, Blackfriars, Glasgow,

David being a lad of parts, and ambitious withal, gave attention to reading and the learning of Latin in the intervals of work. Before his teens were out he was able to enter the University of Glasgow. After a course in Arts and Theology, he was licensed by the Presbytery of Glasgow in 1797. In a year thereafter he was appointed minister of Gourock, and was married to Miss Alicia Kincaid of Kincaid House.

On his father's death he returned to Kirkintilloch, and was elected a magistrate of the old barony burgh in 1826. Henceforth the minister was merged in the magistrate. He was "Bailie Gemmill," and by this title is he known to posterity-why, we cannot say. Possibly like the man who used always to say "the_deil," and was reminded that he ought to say "devil." "Na, na,” he replied, "deil is mair freenly like." And so "bailie' seems more familiar and friendly then the title "reverend." But indeed he magnified his office. He was better known and better liked than any other authority in the district.

He was a quick, sharp man. He had a neat dapper figure, and always dressed with knee breeches, cocked hat, black silk stockings, and buckles. He had much energy, and great discernment of character. He spoke in the best style of the old Scotch language, in soft and affectionate tone; was always cheerful, and particularly kind to the young.

Mr. Robert Maughan, late schoolmaster, Kingsbarns, whose mother, Margaret Fleming, was second cousin to the Bailie, always visited him along with his parents "between the preachings," and recollects his kindness on these occasions. "He used to take me between his knees, and say, 'Come awa', Robin, my bairn.'" The address to his mother was, "Weel, Peggie, my dawtie, hoo's a' wi' ye?"