The Earl of Wemyss, walking one day, found his fool, Willie Howison, asleep upon the ground, and, rousing him, asked what he had been dreaming about. “Ou, my lord,” says Willie, “I dreamed that I was in hell!” “Ay, Willie, and pray what did ye observe there?” “Ou, my lord, it’s just there as it’s here—the grit folk’s ta’en _farrest ben_!” Selkirkshire boasts of several highly amusing idiots, all of whom John Gray once made the subject of a song, in which each of them received some complimentary mention. Himself, _Davie o’ the Inch_, _Caleb and Robbie Scott_, and _Jamie Renwick_, are the chief heroes. Caleb, a very stupid natural, was once engaged by a troop of wandering showfolks to personate the character of an orang-outang at a Melrose fair; the regular orang-outang of the establishment having recently left his keepers in the lurch, by marrying a widow in Berwick, which enabled him to give up business, and retire to the shades of domestic privity. Caleb performed very well, and, being appropriately tarred and feathered, looked the part to perfection. Amateurship alone would have soon reconciled him to be an orang-outang all the rest of his life, and to have left Selkirkshire behind; for, according to his own account, he had nothing to do but hold his tongue, and sit munching apples all day long. But his stars had not destined him for so enviable a life of enjoyment. A drunken farmer coming in to see “the wild man of the woods,” out of pure mischief gave Caleb a lash across the shoulders with his whip, when the poor fellow, roaring out in his natural voice, a mortifying _denouement_ took place; the showfolks were affronted and hissed out of the town, and Caleb was turned off at a moment’s notice, with all his blushing honours thick upon him! _Jamie Renwick_ has more sense and better perceptions than Caleb Scott, but he is much more intractable and mischievous. He is a tall, stout, wild-looking fellow, and might perhaps make as good a hyena as Caleb made an orang-outang. Once, being upon an excursion along with Jock Gray, they came to a farmhouse, and, in default of better accommodation, were lodged in the barn. They did not like this treatment at all, and Jock, in particular, was so irritated, that he would not rest, but got up and walked about, amusing himself with some of his wildest and most sonorous melodies. This, of course, annoyed his companion, who, being inclined to sleep, was making the best he could of a blanket and a bundle of straw. “Come to your bed, ye skirlin’ deevil!” cries Jamie; “I canna get a wink o’ sleep for ye: I daursay the folk will think us daft! Od, if ye dinna come and lie down this instant, I’ll rise and _bring ye to your senses_ wi’ my rung!” “Faith,” says Jock, “if ye do _that_, it will be mair than ony ither body has ever been able to do!” It will be remembered that even the minister of Yarrow himself failed in accomplishing this consummation so devoutly to be wished.