Soon after the battle of Preston, two Highlanders, in roaming through the south of Mid-Lothian, entered the farm house of Swanston, near the Pentland Hills, where they found no one at home but an old woman. They immediately proceeded to search the house, and soon finding a web of coarse home-spun cloth, made no scruple to unroll and cut off as much as they thought would make a coat to each. The woman was exceedingly incensed at their rapacity, roared and cried, and even had the hardihood to invoke divine vengeance upon their heads. "Ye villains!" she cried, "ye'll ha'e to account for this yet." "And when will we pe account for't?" asked one of the Highlanders. "At the last day, ye blackguards!" exclaimed the woman. "Ta last day," replied the Highlander; "Tat be coot lang chredit-we'll e'en pe tak a waistcoat too!" at the same time cutting off a few additional yards of the cloth. _Bird's Nest._ The mother of a respectable grocer in a town in the west, called her son to her, while on her death bed, and declared to him that his reputed father was not really his father; but that such a one (naming him) really was his father; and that the deed was done one night when travelling from Greenock, when at the Clun-Brae-Head. This story got wing, and ran through the town like wildfire, and was a fine source of amusement for some time. One day a boy vulgarly named the "Linty," went into the said grocer's shop to purchase some article, when he was assailed with "Weel Linty, whar is'tu gaun to big thy nest the year?" The boy replied, "I was thinkin' to big it doon about the Clun-Brae-Head." _Elder's Hours._ A cunning carle invested with the semi-sacred office of "Ruling Elder," or practically seemingly identified with that office, in order to gratify an inclination, scratched wi' the neb o' a fork the figure 10 on the one side of his outer door, and figure 11 on the other; by which plan he was able to say wi' "a good conscience," at a' times, and on a' occasions, that he came aye hame atween ten and eleven. _The Thistle._ A few Scotch and English travellers being met together, an Englishman took it upon him to run down the Thistle, exclaimed against the empty boast of its motto, "Nemo me impune lacessit," when a Scotchman present observed, "The Thistle, sir, is the pride of the Scotish nation, but it is nothing in the mouth of an ass." _Cold Gentleman._