THE late Robert, or, as he was more commonly styled, Bob Dreghorn or Dragon, a well-known character in Glasgow, though of a very parsimonious nature, was yet particularly curious in his wines; and while slovenly to excess in the economy of his table, always paid a special attention to his wine cellar.

On one occasion he had a large party at dinner, and as the evening advanced, both he and the majority of the guests got "pretty weel on," to use a common but expressive phrase.

The supply of wine having become exhausted, the forlorn appearance of the decanters was pointed out to the landlord, accompanied with a hint for their replenishment.

Bob made one or two attempts to rise, but in vain; as the old adage says,—

"His head was too heavy, his heels too light,"

and it was with difficulty that he could even make his friends understand that, as he was unable to move, they must content themselves with the libations they had already made.

One of the party, the late Mr. M'K—— of Garnkirk, who, from being a servant of Bob’s had now risen to be his guest, insinuated that there was no necessity for his quitting his chair, as he knew the road to the cellar, and would with pleasure perform the oflice of butler, if intrusted with the keys.

"No!" said Bob, glaring at him like a miser whose hoard someone had proposed to invade; "no! no! I’ll not trust you, sir—you ken the road to the cellar o’er weel, I’m thinking. I trust naebody wi’ the key; but I’ll tell ye what, if you are sober enough to carry me down the stair, I’ll bring up what wine’s wanted."

With this extraordinary proposal Mr. M’K—— complied, took the bacchi plenus landlord on his shoulders, and after a short interval reappeared, his burden increased by the addition of sundry magnums of claret., which the redoubted Bob grasped like grim death.