Apology for the Quakers,' and
claimant of the earldom of Monteith, and was familiarly designated "the
father of the shorthorns." Though Captain Barclay remains without a
national acknowledgment of his merits, no man deserved better of the
farmers of Scotland; for he was their firm supporter through life in
good and bad report. Captain Barclay was in many respects a remarkable
man--one not to be forgotten by any one who had once met him. I have
been many a day in company with him, and have the most vivid
recollection of him as he examined the stock in a show-yard. Pacing
along from class to class, I think I see him drawing his open hand
leisurely down over his chin, and, as he met an acquaintance, saying in
his deep sonorous voice, "How do you do?" laying the emphasis on the
"how," and passing on. No one would have made any mistake as to Captain
Barclay being a gentleman, although his dress was plain--a long green
coat with velvet collar and big yellow buttons, a coloured
handkerchief, long yellow cashmere vest, knee-breeches, very wide
top-boots with long brown dirty tops, and plain black hat, generally
pretty well worn. When at home he wore knee-breeches with patches on
the knees, coarse stockings, and large shoes. Captain Barclay carried
through with energy whatever he took in hand. The "Defiance" must go
its twelve miles an hour including stoppages. He took a great delight
in driving the "Defiance," wearing the red coat with the "Defiance"
buttons; and on one occasion he drove the mail from London to
Stonehaven out and out. His horses were the strongest and his fields
the largest in the country. He said "he did not like a field in which
the cattle could see one another every day." He put four horses in his
waggons, and never sent less than 20 bolls (16 quarters) of grain to
Aberdeen upon a waggon. It was a great sight to see four or five of
Captain Barclay's waggons going down Marischal Street. The houses
shook, the inhabitants were alarmed, and nervous people thought the
houses would tumble down. Captain Barclay could not tolerate a boaster
or puppy in any shape. A few years before his death he happened to be
in the coffee-room, Market Street, Aberdeen, one evening along with
some of his friends. A fast young man took out L20 and boasted he would
run a mile in a certain time: he was not aware that Captain B. was
present. The Captain covered the money, and the L40 was lodged with the
stakeholder. "Now, my man," said t