IN the early part of last century, the lairds of
Kilpatrick, of which parish Garscadden forms a
part, were famous for their devotion to the cup. The story of the
galravich, as drinking-bouts used to be termed in Scotland, in which
the Laird of Garscadden took his last draught, has been often told, but
it will bear repetition. The scene occurred in the wee clachan of Law,
where a considerable number of Kilpatrick lairds had congregated for the
ostensible purpose of talking over some parish business. And well they
talked, and better drank, each so intent on his own roystering
enjoyrnent as to pay little heed to aught else; but during the orgie,
the Laird of Kilmardinny, who was one of the company, observed the Laird
of Garscadden to fall suddenly quiet, while a strange expression passed
over his countenance. The observer said nothing regarding the
circumstance, however, and the merriment went on for some time as
formerly. At length,
"In the thrang o’ stories tellin’,
Shakin' hands and joking queer,"
another individual, fixing his eye on the laird,
"Is na Garscadden looking unco gash the nicht?"
"And so he may," coolly replied the Laird of
Kilmardinny, "for he has been, to my knowledge, wi’ his Maker these twa
hours past; I noticed him slipping awa’, puir fallow, but didna like to
disturb the conviviality of the guid company by speaking o’t." lt was
even so, the poor laird had died in harness.
The following epitaph on this notorious Bacchanalian
plainly indicates that he was held in no great estimation among his
"Beneath this stane lies auld Garscad,
Wha loved a neibor very bad;
Now how he fends and how he fares,
The deil ane kens, and deil ane cares."