There is another incident in his life more likely to recall those of his connections who bore the name of M’Gregor, and the record of it seems odd enough and old-world enough in our eyes. The report is that of a lawsuit which the professor had against Mr Wemyss of Lathockar. Gregorie, it seems, who loved sport, was ‘hunting for partridges’ over the broad meadowlands of Leuchars. He was accompanied by a man called Baird, who carried a second gun for Professor Gregorie. Suddenly Mr Wemyss sprang upon this man and seizing his gun refused to return it. The professor was furious—Baird was carrying a second gun for him, he was no common fowler, no higgler from whom a gun could rightly be taken; but Mr Wemyss was obdurate and went away with the gun, and nine-tenths of the law in his favour. And now there was no possible remedy but the courts, and in due course, the matter came up before the Sheriff. Gregorie claimed the restitution of his gun, and damages for the way in which he had been treated. As regards his first request, his claim was granted, but on the second point the judgment was not so favourable for—is it possible?—there was a doubt in the Sheriffs mind as to whether Gregorie himself had a right to be shooting over the grounds of Leuchars. It had ceased to be a question only concerning Baird, and in the end, the Professor of Mathematics in St Andrew’s University was refused damages on the ground that he himself was poaching![4] The owner of Leuchars was a minor, and as one of his tutors Professor Gregorie had never doubted his right to shoot over the estate, but he went back to St Andrew’s with new ideas on the limitations of his privilege. Footnote 4: Robert Fergusson the poet, wrote a poem in the Scots dialect, on the death of this Professor David Gregorie. His life ended in 1765, when he was only fifty-three. He published one book, which was a Compendium of Algebra—an excellent text-book, said Thomas Reid his cousin, and then added a description of the professor which if not very interesting is still a portrait, drawn from life: ‘a well-bred, sensible gentleman, and much esteemed as a laborious and excellent teacher.’ CHAPTER VII JAMES GREGORIE, 1674–1733 JAMES GREGORIE, 1707–1755 ‘There’s an old University town Between the Don and the Dee, Looking over the grey sand dunes, Looking out on the cold North Sea.’ —DR W. C. SMITH.