In Thrums the local Black Nibs were burned in effigy, and whenever they put their heads out of doors they risked being stoned.

Even where the authorities were unprejudiced they were helpless to interfere; and as a rule they were as bitter against the Black Nibs as the populace themselves.

Once the patriarch was running through the street with a score of the enemy at his heels, and the bailie, opening his window, shouted to them, "Stane the Black Nib oot o' the toon!" When the patriarch was a young man he was a follower of pleasure.

This is the one thing about him that his family have never been able to understand.

A solemn stroll through the kirkyard was not sufficient relaxation in those riotous times, after a hard day at the loom; and he rarely lost a chance of going to see a man hanged.