ABOUT the beginning of the century
there lived and flourished one Bean Findlay, who flattered himself greatly
with the idea that he possessed the most splendid whiskers and most
finished headgear in Glasgow. One night after a late spree of the Gegg
Club, of which he was a member, the wits of the Company shore off his
darling headgear and highly cultivated whiskers, blackened his face, and
sent him home in that pitiful condition to his trusty maidservant, who,
not knowing her own master, saluted him with,— "Get down the stair, you
dirty blackguard."
Another member of the humorous club
had the door of his house built up while he was enjoying himself till
midnight at his customary orgies in the well-known tavern near the Cross,
where the meetings were held, and when he arrived, with a
"Wee drappie in his e’e,"
he was surprised and bewildered that
he could not find out his own domicile. The members of the club were close
at hand enjoying the fun; but it was not till four in the morning, when he
began to get sober, and when perhaps the light of the early dawn assisted
him, that he discovered the trick which his boon companions had played
upon him. Such are a few snatches of the ways of the Glasgow bodies some
ninety years ago, and these anecdotes may serve to give our readers a
glimpse of the social life of the city at the time referred to.
