Perthshire in bygone days

80 PEBTH SHIRE IK BYGONE DAYS.
Invermay, but looking up to him deprecatively, lie said,
"Wellington has beaten the Frenchmen at Waterloo, and
Bonapartey is taken prisoner." Belshes stuck his hand
frantically into his pocket, and pulling out half-a-crown, he
threw it at the momentous herald, exclaiming at the top of
his voice, " Blow away, you young devil."
On another occasion, he was walking about in one of
those moods in which it was by no means desirable to meet
him, but at this thne he encountered a soldier, and did not
come off quite so well as his great friend the Duke. The
soldier when passing the east gate, observed a young oak
that he thought would make a good walking stick; so,
without scruple, he laid down his musket against the dyke,
and going into the wood, cut down the tree. AVhile he was
quietly lopping the branches from his prize, the laird came
along the road. He saw at once the daringly impudent and
really wicked step that the fellow had taken, and his passion,
of course, rose to the occasion. No remedy to the evil deed
occurred to him ; indeed there was none. But the irate
laird seized the gun, and with an oath said, "Take back
that tree and lay it down where you got it, or I will blow
your brains out." The soldier obeyed doggedly, and after
a round of the linguistic guns, he reluctantly gave the
soldier his musket. No sooner had the man of war got
possession of it, than he presented it at the laird, saying
with the same oath, " If you do not put that stick into my
hands as a gift, I will blow your brains out." The laird
made a virtue of necessity, and surrendered it.
Colonel John M. Belshes was the younger brother, and
succeeded to the estate. He was a polite and very kind-
hearted man, but proud to overbearance. For thirty years,
as regularly as Christmas came round, he called for me,
cordially tendering the compliments of the season ; but,
after an altercation, which will be narrated in the sequel,
he failed to appear as usual at the conclusion of the Epis-
copal service, which annoyed me ; and, like the blood of
Caesar, I "rushed out of doors to be resolved." At the
George Inn door I met the Colonel, apparently indif-
ferent to my passing or stopping ; but when I went up and
grasped his hand, he opened up with his accustomed flush
of good manners and began to make some explanation. I
whispered to him, "For God's sake, Colonel, let us have no
more about it." We walked together to my place, and the
interview ended by his asking me to join Sir David Eoss