“He was no Schismatick, he ne’er withdrew Himself from th’ House of God; he with a few (Some two or three) came constantly to pray For such as had withdrawn themselves away, Nor did he come by fits,—foul day or fair, I, being in the church, was sure to see him there. Had he withdrawn, ’tis like these two or three, Being thus discouraged, had deserted me; So that my Muse, ’gainst Priscian, avers, _He_, HE alone, WERE my Parishioners, Yea, and my constant Hearers. O that I Had pow’r to eternize his Memory; Then (though my joy, my glory, and my crown, By this unhappy fall be thus cast down,) I’d rear an everlasting monument, A curious structure, of a large extent,— A brave and stately pile, that should outbid Ægyptian Cheops’ costly Pyramid,— A monument that should outlive the blast Of Time, and Malice too,—a pile should last Longer than hardest marble, and surpass The bright and durable Corinthian brass!”[46] A COUNTRY INNKEEPER. (_Caleb Balderston._) The prototype of Caleb Balderstone was perhaps _Laird Bour_, a servant of the Logans of Restalrig, in 1600. It is evident that the _character_ is just a Scottish edition of “Garrick’s Lying Valet.” We have discovered, however, a solitary trait of Caleb, in a Scotch innkeeper of real existence, who lived long in the south country,[47] and died only a few years ago. We subjoin a very brief notice of this person, whose name was Andrew Davidson. A literary gentleman, who supplies us with information respecting him, states that he was once possessed of a considerable estate,—that of Green-house, in the county of Roxburgh. But being a man of great wit and humour, his society was courted by young men of idle and dissipated habits, who led him into such expenses as shortly proved prejudicial to his fortunes. He was then obliged to sell off his estate and betake himself to a humbler line of life. Keeping a small grocery and spirit shop always presents itself to men in such circumstances as a means of subsistence requiring the least instruction and most easily set afloat. He accordingly commenced that line of business in Jedburgh; but, being considered as an intruder into the burgh, and opposing certain ancient residenters, who were supposed to be more lawfully, justly, and canonically entitled to trade in the town than any new upstart, he did not meet with that success which he expected. In consequence of this illiberal treatment, he conceived the most rancorous hatred for the inhabitants of Jedburgh, and ever after spoke of them in the most violent terms of hatred and contempt. His common language was, “that not an individual in the town would be judged at the last day,—Jedburgh would be at once damned _by the slump!_”