_Daft Willie Law_[5] of Kirkaldy was a regular attendant on _tent-preachings_, and would scour the country thirty miles round in order to be present at “_an occasion_.”[6] One warm summer day he was attending the preaching at Abbots Hall, when, being very near-sighted, and having a very short neck, he stood quite close to “_the tent_” gaping in the minister’s face, who, greatly irritated at a number of his hearers being fast asleep, bawled out, “For shame, Christians, to lie sleeping there, while the glad tidings of the gospel are sounding in your ears; and here is Willie Law, a poor idiot, hearing me with great attention!” “Eh go! sir, that’s true,” says Willie; “but if I hadna been a puir idiot, I would have been sleeping too!” The late John Berry, Esq., of Wester Bogie, was married to a distant relation of Daft Willie, upon which account the poor fellow used a little more freedom with that gentleman than with any other who was in the habit of noticing him. Meeting Mr. Berry one day in Kirkaldy, he cries, “God bless you, Mr. Berry! gie’s a bawbee! gie’s a bawbee!” “There, Willie,” says Mr. Berry, giving him what he thought a halfpenny, but which he immediately saw was a shilling. “That’s no a gude bawbee, Willie,” continues he; “gie me’t back, and I’ll gie ye anither ane for’t.” “Na, na,” quoth Willie, “it sets Daft Willie Law far better to put away an ill bawbee than it wad do you, Mr. Berry.” “Ay, but Willie, if ye dinna gie me’t back, I’ll never gie ye anither ane.” “Deil ma care,” says the wag, “it’ll be lang or I get ither four-and-twenty frae ye!” Willie was descended from an ancient Scottish family, and nearly related to John Law of Lauriston, the celebrated financier of France. On that account he was often spoken to and noticed by gentlemen of distinction; and he wished always to appear on the most intimate terms with the nobility and gentry of the neighbourhood. Posting one day through Kirkcaldy with more than ordinary speed, he was met by Mr. Oswald of Dunnikier, who asked him where he was going in such a hurry. “I’m gaun to my cousin Lord Elgin’s burial.” “Your cousin Lord Elgin’s burial, you fool! Lord Elgin’s not dead!” “Ah, deil may care,” quoth Willie; “there’s sax doctors out o’ Embro’ at him, and they’ll hae him dead afore I win forat!” Of _Matthew Cathie_, an East Lothian idiot, numerous characteristic anecdotes are related. He lives by begging in the town of North Berwick, and is well treated by the people there, on account of his extreme inoffensiveness. Like Daft Jock Gray, he is fond of going into churches, where his appearance does not fail to set the people a-staring. On one occasion the minister, pointing to Matthew, said, “That person must be put out before we can proceed.” Matthew, hearing this, exclaimed, “Put him out wha likes, I’ll hae nae hand in’t!” Another time, the minister said, “Matthew must be put out!” when Matthew got up and replied, “Oh! Geordie, man, ye needna fash—Matthew can gang out himsel’!”