Oor ain folk times

HENWIFE AT DUN 227
one day, but he was carrying a long ladder on his
shoulder, and although he saw that Willie wished to
speak to him, he calmly held on his way until he
reached the manse, when, putting down the ladder by
the side of the house, he turned to the observant laddie,
who had been somewhat surprised at seeing the mini-
ster thus engaged, and said, with a merry twinkle
in his eye, 'Oh, never mind the ladder, my mannie.
If I had stopped to speak or to shak' hands wi'
ilka body that wanted to speak to me, or lauched
at me, I wad jist hae been a pairfeck nuisance. Na,
na, laddie, it's no weel gossipin' wi' a lang ladder on
yer shouther.'
He used to tell, with great glee, a story of a certain
pompous, pretentious fellow who had left his native
place, gone south, and got on pretty well in the world.
He bore the patronymic of Smith ; and after a consider-
able absence he took a run down to his native parish
to enjoy the sense of his own importance by showing
off his airs and graces before his former rural ac-
quaintances. He was dressed in the height of fashion,
and allowed himself all sorts of ridiculous affectations.
Meeting an old farmer, who had known his very, very
humble antecedents, he accosted him in rather a patron-
ising sort of fashion, thus :
' Haw, Mistaw Mollison, and how do you do ? '
' Od, sir, ye hae the better o' me,' said the farmer,
for the moment nonplussed.
' Aw, don't you remember me ? I'm Mistaw George
Smith.'
' Ou ay ! ' said the farmer very drily, ' I behaud ye
noo. Wisna yer mither henwife at Dun ? '