The Powder Keg

Dan was one of those rare specimens who enjoyed a good joke, and probably more often at the other’s expense rather than his own. One of the workers in Lawers had been in business for himself and probably fallen on hard times and had come to work there. He was soft-spoken and most polite. He had, however one dread, the fear of gunpowder...anything to do with firearms drove him into a panic.

He was once sent to Stirling for some blasting powder which was used to clear rocks in the fields. When the horse and the cart returned home Peter was never seen and the others, bewildered, unyoked it. Peter had followed behind it at a safe distance from Stirling to Lawers. McGregor knew of this fear and one evening asked to see him about a matter of some importance and an appointment set. Peter showed up on time and McGregor, with dead pan-face said that he had been assessing his talents and had an assignment which dovetailed with Peter’s qualifications, He said, “For some time I have been looking out for a suitable position for you, Peter, as I consider that you are not in your current position. Your education and your style of address entitle you to a much higher position than the one you occupy as a common workman on the estate of Lawers, and I think I have now got the very thing for you. You will never be required to take off your coat. You will have some writing to do, and for that you are well qualified. You will also have to look after a few workers and to see that the rules of the establishment are attended to; but I have no doubt from your manner that you and those under your charge will get on alright.”

Peter listened attentively and then asked, “What is the nature of this work and where are the works situated?” McGregor said that the work was in Ireland but that all expenses incurred in transportation for himself and his belongings would be paid for by his employers. Peter then asked, “What then is the nature of the work of which I am expected to take charge?” The gardener said, “Well, you’re to have the charge and oversight of a powder mill.” Peter leapt to his feet, flushed and fearful, rushed to the door shouting, “Good night, Mr. McGregor; good night, sir; good night.” McGregor thoroughly enjoyed that one!