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The Rev. Mr Shirra, burgher minister in Kirkcaldy, once gave the following curious definition of the devil: "The Devil, my brethren, is ill ony way ye'll tak' him. Tak the D from his name, he's evil; tak’ the E from his name, he's vil; tak’ the V from his name, he's il;" then shrugging up his shoulders, and lengthening his sanctified snout, he said, with peculiar emphases, "he's naething but an il, vil, evil, Devil, ony way ye'll tak him!"

A gentleman having missed his way, fortunately overtook a boy going with a pot of tar to mark his master's sheep, asked the road to Banff, but was directing by so many turnings, right and left, that he agreed to take the boy behind him on the horse as he was going near to the same place. Finding the boy pert and docoil, he gave him some wholesome advice relative to his future conduct, adding occasionally, "Mark me well, my boy."—"Yes, Sir, I do." He repeated the injunction so often, that the boy at last cried out, "Sir, I have no more tar!!"

After the battle of Falkirk, in 1746, a Highlandman was observed extracting a gold watch from the fob of an Englsh officer, who had been killed. His comrade viewed him with a greedy eye, which the man taking notice of, said to him, "Tamn you gapin' greedy bitch, gang and shoot a shentleman for hersel', an' no envie me o' my pit watch."