There being no question as to what “daily bread” was, the teacher proceeded to ask:  “What do you understand by ‘raiment fit,’ or as we might say, ‘fit raiment?’” For a short time the class remained puzzled at the question; but at last one little girl sung out “stockings and shune.”  The child knew that “fit,” was Scotch for feet, so her natural explanation of the phrase was equivalent to “feet raiment,” or “stockings and shune,” as she termed it.

On the point of changes in religious feelings there comes within the scope of these Reminiscences a character in Aberdeenshire, which has now gone out—­I mean the popular and universally well-received Roman Catholic priest.  Although we cannot say that Scotland is a more PROTESTANT nation than it was in past days, still religious differences, and strong prejudices, seem at the present time to draw a more decided line of separation between the priest and his Protestant countrymen.  As examples of what is past, I would refer to the case of a genial Romish bishop in Ross-shire.  It is well known that private stills were prevalent in the Highlands fifty or sixty years ago, and no one thought there was any harm in them.  This good bishop, whose name I forget, was (as I heard the late W. Mackenzie of Muirton assure a party at Dunrobin Castle) several years previously a famous hand at brewing a good glass of whisky, and that he distributed his mountain-dew with a liberal and impartial hand alike to Catholic and to Protestant friends.  Of this class, I recollect, certainly forty-five years ago, Priest Gordon, a genuine Aberdonian, and a man beloved by all, rich and poor.  He was a sort of chaplain to Menzies of Pitfodels, and visited in all the country families round Aberdeen.  I remember once his being at Banchory Lodge, and thus apologising to my aunt for going out of the room:—­“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Forbes, for leaving you, but I maun just gae doun to the garden and say my bit wordies”—­these “bit wordies” being in fact the portion of the Breviary which he was bound to recite.  So easily and pleasantly were those matters then referred to.

The following, however, is a still richer illustration, and I am assured it is genuine:—­“Towards the end of the last century, a worthy Roman Catholic clergyman, well known as ‘Priest Matheson,’ and universally respected in the district, had charge of a mission in Aberdeenshire, and for a long time made his journeys on a piebald pony, the priest and his ‘pyet shelty’ sharing an affectionate recognition wherever they came.  On one occasion, however, he made his appearance on a steed of a different description, and passing near a Seceding meeting-house, he forgathered with the minister, who, after the usual kindly greetings, missing the familiar pony, said, ‘Ou, Priest! fat’s come o’ the auld Pyet?  ’He’s deid, minister.’  ‘Weel, he was an auld faithfu’ servant, and ye wad nae doot gie him the offices o’ the church?’ ‘Na, minister,’ said his friend, not quite liking this allusion to his priestly