At length he accosted a bystander, and
asked him the name of the place. "Hout man," replied the other, "are ye
in the heart o' Glasgow, and speer the name of it?" The poor man was
astonished, and would not believe either ears or eyes; he insisted that
he had lain down to sleep but half an hour before on the Peatlaw, near
Selkirk. He came well-nigh being taken up for a madman, when,
fortunately, a Selkirk man came by, who knew him, and took charge of
him, and conducted him back to his native place. Here, however, he was
likely to fare no better, when he spoke of having been whisked in his
sleep from the Peatlaw to Glasgow. The truth of the matter at length
came out; his coat, which he had taken off when at work on the Peatlaw,
was found lying near a "fairy knowe," and his bonnet, which was
missing, was discovered on the weathercock of Lanark steeple. So it was
as clear as day that he had been carried through the air by the fairies
while he was sleeping, and his bonnet had been blown off by the way.
I give this little story but meagrely from a scanty memorandum; Scott
has related it in somewhat different style in a note to one of his
poems; but in narration these anecdotes derived their chief zest, from
the quiet but delightful humor, the bonhomie with which he seasoned
them, and the sly glance of the eye from under his bushy eyebrows, with
which they were accompanied.
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