she settles down for the night, three other hearty meals. She is never troubled with indigestion, but lies awake whole nights, unable to sleep, like many very aged people, with whom the difficulty of getting sound, refreshing rest is one of the most serious trials of existence. Up to two years ago her memory is said to have been perfect, and her conversational powers remained unusually good. She is not reserved now, but since increasing deafness has cut her off from society, she has thought more and talked less. She can distinctly remember, when a young woman, sitting up dressed for several nights awaiting the arrival of Napoleon and the French invading army, and, like hundreds of thousands of other people, she was no doubt disappointed that he never came. She can perfectly remember Trafalgar and the national mourning for Nelson.

Life at such an age ceases to be a pleasure-at least so it seems to, the young. Nevertheless the aged cling to this world of troubles and long to live on. A poor woman at Hampreston, near Wimborne, who lived to see the end of a century, retaining good health, eyesight, hearing, and unimpaired digestion to the last, told her vicar, the late Mr. Patey, that she was very lonely, having so long outlived all the companions of her younger days. Probably old Mrs. Adams will some day pass away after a few hours' sickness-that is the end of most very aged people. Death comes without a struggle or a pang-quietly, painlessly, gently, but not the more welcome.

Dr. Richardson tells me that she reminds him strongly of Mrs. Horrocks, another centenarian, whom he once carefully examined. She, too, had a good digestion and an unimpaired appetite; and this morning I have been told of an old man who died, four months ago, at Hinton Martel, a village five miles from Wimborne, aged ninety-nine. He had to the last a splendid appetite. This sharp relish for food is characteristic, I think, of most aged people-at least it has distinguished nearly all whom I have known. The opportunities in East Dorset of seeing nonagenarians are favourable, more particularly in the neighbourhood of Wimborne, which is famous for its patriarchs. Long Crichel, a village a few miles to the north of the town, is credited with having an old woman alive who is 106, and there was another at Salisbury nearly as far advanced in years, but poor Ann Haylie died early in January.

Now for the lesson which I wish to draw. Mrs. Adams has always been an abstainer, not from conviction, but habit, and because she did not like alcohol, the smallest quantity going to her head and causing discomfort; so that she is an aged, though hardly an illustrious abstainer-a living instance that stimulants

are not indispensable to long life and physical and intellectual activity.

Her baptismal entry can be seen in the parish register. The rite was performed on February 13, 1790; she also has an old family Bible, in which, in faded ink, but in a very legible hand, the births and deaths of several members of her family are recorded, and among them figures the name of Mary Cole of Wimborne, born February 7, 1790-one of the few cases in which unexceptionable proof of the real age of a reputed centenarian is forthcoming. Reputed centenarians, not quite the same thing as real ones, are, I grant, "thick as autumnal leaves strewing the brooks in Vallombrosa." ALFRED J. H. CRESPI.

THE SCOTTISH

BEADLE" AND

HIS HUMOURS.

HE Scottish beadle is not what he used to be. Indeed, he is

TH

no longer the beadle; in the march of civilisation he has become the church officer. Angler Stoddart's description of him. as quite

An oracle, with wit enough

To serve the parish,

is no longer applicable, for he has grown into a sober-visaged individual, whose aim in this life is to preserve intact his own dignity and to eagerly watch for "tips."

But the genuine beadle of the olden time-what an important and what a witty customer was he ! In country places, at least, it was his duty to attend the minister in his pastoral visitations and at baptisms; he had to keep out and put out from the church stray dogs which dared to disturb the devotions of the congregation; to hand up and take down the minister's Bible and psalm-book; to advertise sales by auction, and give other notices after divine service. He had, likewise, to act as officer to the Kirk Session, and to summon culprits who had rendered themselves amenable to Church discipline. He often also undertook, as a labour of love, to attend upon and patronise young clergymen who officiated in the absence of the regular minister; and he was, in addition to all this, newsmonger and chronicler for the entire parish. His bon mots were the cause of endless mirth to a wide circle, and have furnished the collector with the choicest specimens of Scotch wit and humour of the dry and caustic order.

Of course, he was fond of his snuff, and made free with the "mull," as the Scot terms his snuff-box, right and left. An old beadle himself tells of having got a sharp reproof from the pulpit because of his too devoted attention in this particular. "When the minister was preaching," says he, "a neighbour asked a snuff, and I gave him my box. The minister saw us, and just leaned over the pulpit, looked straight in our faces, and said, 'There are some of you more

concerned about your noses than about your souls' salvation.' After that I was very careful never to pass my box in church again."

No one was a better judge of whisky than the old Scotch beadle, and many good stories are told of his weaknesses in connection with the "dram." "You have been drinking again, John," said a minister to his beadle. "Why, John, you should really become a teetotaller." "Do you never tak' a drop yersel', sir?" inquired John. I do; but, John, you must consider the difference between your circumstances and mine." "Very true, sir," said John; "but do you know why the streets of Jerusalem were kept sae clean ?" The minister confessed himself unable to answer this query. "Well, then,"

remarked John, “I'll tell you. It was just because everybody kept their ain door-stane swept "--which was a polite way of saying, "Mind your own business.”

Very often the beadle's ready wit was sharpened by something stronger than water. "Drunk again, John," remarked a minister to his beadle; meaning, of course, that John was clearly the worse for liquor. "Don't mention it," said John, complacently; "I'm pretty well on myself, sir."

In most parishes the beadle was also grave-digger, and many excellent anecdotes are recorded of him in this second capacity. Of course, he had generally a single eye to business. One is reported to have made merry because an epidemic had broken out in the locality; "for," said he, "I havena buried a livin' soul for the last six weeks, exceptin' a wee thing o' a bairn." "Run away home, bairns," another was in the habit of saying to any children who ventured into the churchyard-"away home, and dinna come back here again on your ain feet." A physician in Dumfries, meeting the grave-digger the worse for liquor one day, threatened to report him to the Kirk Session. "Man, doctor," said the offender, "I have covered many a fault o' yours, and I think you might bear one o' mine."

As grave-digger the beadle is entitled to a small sum fixed by the heritors, generally a few shillings, for each interment. At the burial of an old man in the churchyard of the parish of King Edward, Banffshire, the grave-digger charged the relatives of the deceased thirty shillings as grave-digger's dues, which was much more than he was entitled to exact. On the people complaining to the minister, the latter sent for the grave-digger and rebuked him sharply for the overcharge. At first he made no reply, but after the minister had asked him repeatedly, "What could you mean, Tammas, by making such an over-charge?" Tammas at last said in self-justification, "Well, ye

see, sir, the way was this: When the corpse an' me was twa boys he cheated me oot o' thirty shillings i' the trock o' a watch; an' ye see it was my last chance. If I hadna gotten it aff o' him noo I wadna ha'e gotten it aff o' him at all."

In country parishes the beadle, as "minister's man," performed a good deal of private work at the manse, and his knowledge of what was going on there made him a welcome visitor at the houses of the gossiping members of the congregation. It is told of one member of the fraternity that, being sent out to deliver certain notices among the congregation, he returned to the manse in the condition described as "fou." The minister rebuking him for his improper conduct, John pleaded the pressing "hospitality" of the parishioners. The preacher, however, would not admit the plea, and added, "Why, John, I go through the parish oftener than you, and you never see me return home as you have done." "Ay, minister," replied John, with an emphatic shake of the head, "but then you're nae sae popular in the parish as I am.”

The beadle was strong in criticism of his ministerial chief, doctrine generally dividing his attention with the prayers, which were always, of course, extemporaneous. "I think our minister does very well," said one beadle to another. Man, how he makes the dust fly out of the cushions!" "Dust fly out of the cushions!" replied the other with a sneer. "If you've a notion of powerful preaching, come over and give us a day's hearing. Would you believe it? For all the short time our man has delivered the Word among us, he has knocked three pulpits all to shivers, and sent the insides out of five Bibles." On the other hand, not a few beadles seem to have exemplified in their own case the truth of the old proverb, "The nearer the church the farther from grace," and thinking they had enough of his Reverence throughout the week, on Sunday preferred meditating among the tombs to sitting in the pew.

In a certain church not far from Glasgow a beadle got into trouble through being outside the sacred edifice, and that in a very simple manner too. The afternoon being fine, John ensconced himself in a corner of the porch, and, to beguile the time, took out his pipe, lit up, and luxuriated in a quiet smoke. By-and-by the portion of the congregation nearest the door began to feel decidedly uncomfortable; a strong odour of tobacco "reek" permeated the building, and there were one or two involuntary coughs on the part of the ladies, varied at intervals with "sneezing." One elderly gentleman ventured out to see what was the matter, and on opening

"Trock means an exchange-French troquer.