following anecdote, then, which we borrow from a Scotch paper, most
probably refers to the same period, or thereabouts :--

"When Umbrellas were first marched into Blairgowrie, they were
sported only by the minister and the laird, and were looked upon by
the common class of people as a perfect phenomenon. One day Daniel M--
went to Colonel McPherson, at Blairgowrie House; when about to
return, a shower came on, and the colonel politely offered him the
loan of an Umbrella, which he gladly accepted, and Daniel, with his
head two or three inches higher than usual, marched off. Not long
after he had left, however, the colonel again saw Daniel posting
towards him with all possible haste, still o'ertopped by his cotton
canopy (silk Umbrellas were out of the question in those days), which
he held out, saluting him with--' Hae, hae, Kornil, this'll never do!
there's nae a door in all my house that'll tak it in; my very
barn-door winna' tak it in.'"

In the veracious "History of Sandford and Merton," if our memory
serves us aright, there is an instance quoted of remarkable presence
of mind relating to an Umbrella and its owner. The members of a
comfortable pic-nic party were cosily assembled in some part of
India, when an unbidden and most unwelcome guest made his appearance,
in the shape of a huge Bengal tiger. Most persons would, naturally,
have sought safety in flight, and not stayed to hob-and-nob with this
denizen of the jungle; not so, however, thought a lady of the party,
who, inspired by her innate courage, or the fear of losing her dinner
--perhaps by both combined seized her Umbrella, and opened it suddenly
in the face of the tiger as he stood wistfully gazing upon brown
curry and foaming Allsop. The astonished brute turned tail and fled,
and the lady saved her dinner. Not many years ago the Umbrella was