shook, the inhabitants were alarmed, and nervous people thought the houses would tumble down. Captain Barclay could not tolerate a boaster or puppy in any shape. A few years before his death he happened to be in the coffee-room, Market Street, Aberdeen, one evening along with some of his friends. A fast young man took out L20 and boasted he would run a mile in a certain time: he was not aware that Captain B. was present. The Captain covered the money, and the L40 was lodged with the stakeholder. "Now, my man," said the Captain (turning the quid of tobacco once or twice in his mouth, and taking his hand down from his nose to his chin), in his prolonged solemn tone, "we will put you to time." The race was run and lost. The Captain was walking one day in his park when he came on an intruder in the shape of an ass. He seized the donkey and threw it over the wall of the park. To his astonishment the animal was returned. The Captain pitched him over again, and again he came back. This was repeated several times, till at last the Captain went outside the wall and found that it was a gypsy that was his match. He was so much pleased with the prowess of the man, that he took him to the mansion-house of Ury, treated him to all he could eat and drink, and gave him permission to graze his donkey as often as he liked on the policies of Ury. One morning, when the Captain was driving the "Defiance," there was a plain country woman sitting behind him. A gentleman wished to deprive the woman of her seat. The Captain remonstrated with him and bade him let the poor woman alone. The stranger did not know that it was Captain Barclay, and went on from better to worse, till he told the Captain if he would stop the coach and come down he would settle the matter with him. The Captain immediately stopped the coach, saying, "I suppose I must gratify you," gave the reins to Davie Troup, and jumped down with his top-coat on. The stranger advised him to strip. "Oh no," said the Captain, "that would be troublesome." His opponent, a very strong man, rushed at him like a bull-dog. The Captain put on his guard, looked at his antagonist for a moment or two, turned the quid of tobacco once or twice in his mouth, and then gave him a blow that felled him to the ground like a log of wood. He got to his feet again, when the Captain doubled the dose. The stranger was satisfied, and said, "You must either be the devil or Captain Barclay of Ury." "I am not the former," said the Captain, "but I am the latter." A stranger would hardly at first sight have got an adequate impression of Captain Barclay's power, but his appearance grew upon you when you came close to him; you then saw his great strength. He was a very round-made man, shaped for great endurance, which was put to a severe test when, in 1809, he walked a thousand miles in a thousand hours. His man Cross, who attended him, described to me the difficulty of his task in keeping him awake. At