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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 01:23:28 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/20540-h.zip b/20540-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bfe94ff --- /dev/null +++ b/20540-h.zip diff --git a/20540-h/20540-h.htm b/20540-h/20540-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..89a78f4 --- /dev/null +++ b/20540-h/20540-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6187 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +My Man Sandy +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 5%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: medium; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.salutation {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.closing {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.index {font-size: small ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.intro {font-size: medium ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.dedication {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 15%; + text-align: justify } + +P.published {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 15% } + +P.quote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.report {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.report2 {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.finis { text-align: center } + + +H3.h3left { margin-left: 0%; + margin-right: 1%; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: left ; + clear: left ; + text-align: center } + +H3.h3right { margin-left: 1%; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: right ; + clear: right ; + text-align: center } + +H3.h3center { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-align: center } + +H4.h4left { margin-left: 0%; + margin-right: 1%; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: left ; + clear: left ; + text-align: center } + +H4.h4right { margin-left: 1%; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: right ; + clear: right ; + text-align: center } + +H4.h4center { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-align: center } + +H5.h5left { margin-left: 0%; + margin-right: 1%; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: left ; + clear: left ; + text-align: center } + +H5.h5right { margin-left: 1%; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: right ; + clear: right ; + text-align: center } + +H5.h5center { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-align: center } + +IMG.imgleft { float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: 1%; + padding: 0; + text-align: center } + +IMG.imgright {float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1%; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center } + +IMG.imgcenter { margin-left: auto; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: auto; } + +.pagenum { position: absolute; + left: 1%; + font-size: 95%; + text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; } + + + + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of My Man Sandy, by J. B. Salmond + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: My Man Sandy + +Author: J. B. Salmond + +Release Date: February 7, 2007 [EBook #20540] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY MAN SANDY *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="Cover Art--Sandy" BORDER="2" WIDTH="439" HEIGHT="654"> +<H3 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 439px"> +Cover Art—Sandy +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +MY MAN SANDY +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +J. B. SALMOND +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +SIXTH EDITION +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +SANDS & CO. +<BR> +EDINBURGH: 37 GEORGE STREET +<BR> +LONDON: 15 KING STREET, COVENT GARDEN +<BR> +1919 +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +PREFACE. +</H3> + +<P> +These sketches are taken from a series written originally for newspaper +purposes. Revision of them has made their author keenly conscious of +their defects; but Bawbie and Sandy are characters who might be +completely spoiled by improvement. The sketches are therefore +presented as they were hastily "rubbed-in" for serial publication. +</P> + +<P> +The "foo," "far," "fat," and "fan" of the Angus dialect have been +changed into the more classic "hoo," "whaur," &c.; otherwise the +sketches remain in the form in which they have gained quite an +unexpected popularity amongst Scottish readers both at home and abroad. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +ARBROATH, N.B.,<BR> +<I>April</I>, 1889. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS. +</H3> + +<BR> + +<CENTER> + +<TABLE WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">SANDY SWAPS HIS POWNEY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">SANDY STARTS TO STUDY GEOMETRY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">SANDY AND THE DINNER BELL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">A TALK ABOUT HEAVEN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">MISTRESS MIKAVER'S TEA PARTY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">SANDY'S SECOND LESSON IN GEOMETRY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">SANDY'S MAGIC LANTERN EXHIBITION</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">SANDY AND THE RHUBARB TART</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">THE GREAT STORM OF NOVEMBER, 1893</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">SANDY AND HIS FAIRNTICKLES</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">SANDY STANDS "EMPIRE" AT A CRICKET MATCH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">A DREADFUL DISASTER IN THE GARRET</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">SANDY AND BAWBIE'S SPRING HOLIDAY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">LOVE AND WAR</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">SANDY MAKES A SPEECH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">SANDY'S CHRISTMAS PRESENT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">AT THE SELECT CHOIR'S CONCERT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">SANDY RUNS A RACE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">SANDY REVENGED</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">SANDY'S APOLOGIA</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +MY MAN SANDY. +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SANDY SWAPS HIS POWNEY. +</H3> + +<P> +He's a queer cratur, my man Sandy! He's made, mind an' body o' him, on +an original plan a'thegither. He says an' does a' mortal thing on a +system o' his ain; Gairner Winton often says that if Sandy had been in +the market-gardenin' line, he wudda grown his cabbage wi' the stocks +aneth the ground, juist to lat them get the fresh air aboot their +ruits. It's juist his wey, you see. I wudna winder to see him some +day wi' Donal' yokit i' the tattie-cairt wi' his heid ower the fore-end +o't, an' the hurdles o' him whaur his heid shud be. I've heard Sandy +say that he had an idea that a horse cud shuve far better than poo; an' +when Sandy ance gets an idea intil his heid, there's some beast or body +has to suffer for't afore he gets redd o't. If there's a crank wey o' +doin' onything Sandy will find it oot. For years he reg'larly flang +the stable key ower the gate efter he'd brocht oot Donal' an' the +cairt. When he landit hame again, he climbed the gate for the key, an' +syne climbed ower again an' opened it frae the ootside. He michta +carried the key in his pooch; but onybody cudda dune that! But, as I +was sayin', it's juist his wey. +</P> + +<P> +"It's juist the shape original sin's ta'en in Sandy's case," the +Gairner said when the Smith an' him were discussin' the subject. +</P> + +<P> +"I dinna ken aboot the sin; but it's original eneuch, there's nae doot +aboot that," said the Smith. +</P> + +<P> +There's naebody kens that better than me, for I've haen the teuch end +o' forty year o't. But, still an' on, he's my ain man, the only ane +ever I had, an' I'll stick up for him, an' till him, while the lamp +holds on to burn, as the Psalmist says. +</P> + +<BR> +<HR WIDTH="60%" ALIGN="center"> +<BR> + +<P> +"See if I can say my geog, Bawbie," said Nathan to me the ither +forenicht, as I was stanin' in the shop. He'd been sittin' ben the +hoose wi' his book croonin' awa' till himsel' aboot Rooshya bein' +boundit on the north by the White Sea, an' on the sooth by the Black +Sea, an' some ither wey by the Tooral-ooral mountains or something, an' +he cam' ben an' handed me his geog, as he ca'd it, to see if he had a' +this palaver on his tongue. +</P> + +<P> +I've often windered what was the use o' Nathan wirryin' ower thae +oot-o'-the-wey places that he wud never be within a thoosand mile o'. +He kens a' the oots an' ins o' Valiparaiso, but michty little aboot +Bowriefauld. Hooever, I suppose the dominie kens best. +</P> + +<P> +Nathan was juist busy pointin' oot the place to me in his book when +there was a terriple rattlin' oot on the street, an' aff he hookited to +see what was ado. He thocht it was a marriage, an' that there micht be +a chance o' some heys aboot the doors. What was my consternation when +the reeshlin' an' rattlin' stoppit at the shop door, an' I heard +Sandy's voice roarin', "Way-wo, haud still, wo man, wo-o-o, will ye!" +</P> + +<P> +"What i' the face o' the earth's ado noo?" says I to mysel'; an' I goes +my wa's to the door. Sandy had been up at Munromont for a load o' +tatties. When I gaed to the door, here he was wi' a thing atween the +shafts o' his cairt that lookit like's it had been struck wi' forkit +lichtnin'. +</P> + +<P> +"What hae ye dune wi' Donal', Sandy?" I speered. +</P> + +<P> +"Cadger Gowans an' me's haen a swap," says Sandy, climbin' oot at the +back o' the cairt, an' jookin' awa' roond canny-weys to the horse's +heid. +</P> + +<P> +"Wo, Princie," he says, pettin' oot his hand. "Wo, the bonnie laddie!" +</P> + +<P> +Princie, as he ca'd him, ga'e a gley roond wi' the white o' his e'e +that garred Sandy keep a gude yaird clear o' him. +</P> + +<P> +"He's a grand beast," he says, comin' roond to my side; "a grand beast! +Three-quarters bred, an' soond in wind and lim'. I got a terriple +bargain o' him. I ga'e Gowans Donal' an' thirty shillin's, an' he ga'e +me a he tortyshall kitlin' to the bute—the only ane i' the +countryside. He's genna hand it in the morn." +</P> + +<P> +There was nae want o' soond in Princie's wind at ony rate. I saw that +in a minute. He was whistlin' like a lerik. +</P> + +<P> +"He sooks wind a little when he has a lang rin," says Sandy; "but +that's nether here nor there. He's haen a teenge or twa, an' he's +akinda foondered afore, an' a little spavie i' the aft hent leg; but +I'll shune pet that a' richt wi' gude guidin'. He's a grand beast, I +tell ye!" +</P> + +<P> +Sandy stood an' lookit first up at the horse an' then doon at his +cairt. "He's gey high for the wheels," he says; "but, man, he's a +grand beast. He cam hame frae Glesterlaw juist like a bird. Never +turned a hair. He's a grand beast." +</P> + +<P> +"Hoo mony legs has he, Sandy?" says I, lookin' at the great, big, +ravelled-lookin' brute. He was a' twisted here and there, an' the legs +o' him lookit for a' the world juiat like bits o' crunckled water-hose. +The cairt appeared to be haudin' him up, raither than him haudin' up +the cairt; an' he was restin' the thrawn legs o' him time aboot, juist +like a cock stanin' amon' snaw. "Ye shudda left that billie at the +knackers at Glesterlaw, Sandy," says I, I says. "I'm dootin' ye'll +ha'e back to tak' him there afore him or you's muckle aulder." +</P> + +<P> +"Tyach! Haud your lang tongue," says Sandy. "Speak aboot things ye +ken something aboot. Wait till the morn. Ye'll see I'll get roond my +roonds an' a' my tatties delivered in half the time. I'll ha'e rid o' +a' my tatties an' be hame gin ane o'clock, instead o' dotterin' awa' +wi' a lazy brute like Donal'. I'll beat ye onything ye like, Gowans +'ill be ruin' his bargain gin this time; but he'll no' get him back +noo. I'll go an' see an' get Princie stabled." +</P> + +<P> +Sandy gaed inby to the shafts, but he sprang back when Princie ga'e a +squeek an' garred his heels play tnack on the boddom o' the cairt. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the breedin'," says Sandy, gaen awa' roond to the ither side o' +the cairt. +</P> + +<P> +"It soonded to me like the boddom o' the cairt, as far as I cud hear," +says I, I says; but Sandy never lut on. +</P> + +<P> +The brute had a nesty e'e in its heid. It turned roond wi' a +vegabon'-like look aye when Sandy gaed near't. He got up on the front +efter a while, an' ga'e the reinds a tit, an' Princie began to do a bit +jeeg, garrin' Sandy bowse aboot on the front o' the cairt like's he was +foo. Sandy ga'e him a clap on the hurdles to quieten him, but aye the +hent feet o' him played skelp on the boddom o' the cairt, till I thocht +he wudda haen't ca'd a' to bits. Syne awa' he gaed full bung a' o' a +sudden, wi' Sandy rowin' aboot amon' the tatties, an' hingin' in by the +reinds, roarin', "Wo! haud still," an' so on. Gin he got to the fit o' +the street there was a dozen laddies efter him; screamin', "Come on you +lads, an' see Sandy Bowden's drumadairy. By crivens, he's gotten a +richt horse for Donal', noo." +</P> + +<P> +Sandy didna come up frae the stable till near-hand eleven o'clock, an' +I didna say ony mair aboot his braw horse. I've heard the minister +say, it's the unexpectit that happens. That's aye the way wi' Sandy, I +can tell you. I aye expect that something will happen wi' him that I'm +no' expectin'; so I find it best juist to lat him aleen. +</P> + +<P> +Next mornin' he gaed awa' gey early to get yokit, an' he took Bandy +Wobster wi' him to gi'e him a hand. It was twa strucken 'oors afore he +got to the shop door wi' the cairt, an' baith him an' the horse were +sweitin' afore they startit on his roonds. Sandy was lookin' gey +raised like, so I lut him get on a' his tatties an' said naething. +</P> + +<P> +Stumpie Mertin cam' by, an', lookin' at Princie, gae his heid a claw. +</P> + +<P> +"What are ye stanin' glowerin' at?" says Sandy till him, gey snappit +like. +</P> + +<P> +"Whaur did ye get that hunger'd-lookin' radger, Sandy?" says he. "That +beast's no' fit for gaen aboot. The Cruelty to Animals 'ill nip you, +as shure's you're a livin' man." +</P> + +<P> +"Tak' care 'at they dinna nip you, for haein' a wid leg," says Sandy, +as raised as a wasp. "Awa' oot o' that, an' mind your ain bisness." +</P> + +<P> +"That's been stealt oot ahent some menagerie caravan," says Stumpie; +an' awa' he gaed dilpin' like's he'd made a grand joke. +</P> + +<P> +The policeman cam' doon an' settled himsel' aboot ten yairds awa' frae +Princie, put his hands ahent his back, set forrit his heid like's he +was gaen awa' to putt somebody, an' took a lang look at him. "That's a +clinker, Sandy," says he. "That billie 'ill cover the grund." +</P> + +<P> +I didna ken whether the bobbie meant rinnin' ower the grund, or +coverin't efter he was turned into gooana or bane-dust; but I saw the +lauch in his sleeve a' the same. +</P> + +<P> +Gairner Winton cam' doon the street at the same time, an' the bobby an' +him startit to remark aboot Sandy's horse. +</P> + +<P> +"A gude beast, nae doot," says the Gairner; "but Sandy's been gey lang +o' buyin' him.' +</P> + +<P> +"He's bocht him gey sune, I'm thinking," says the policeman. "Gin he'd +waited a fortnicht, he'd gotten him at twintypence the hunderwecht." +</P> + +<P> +Sandy never lut dab 'at he heard them. The cairt was a' ready an' +Sandy got up on the front and startit. A' gaed richt till he got to +the Loan, when Princie startit to trot. The rattlin' o' the scales at +the back o' the cairt fleggit him, an' aff he set at full tear, the +lang skranky legs o' him wallopin' about like torn cloots atween him +an' the grund. A gude curn wives were oot waitin' their tatties, an' +they roared to Sandy to stop; but Sandy cudna. The tatties were +fleein' ower the back door o' the cairt, an' the scales were rattlin' +an' reeshlin' like an earthquake; an' there was Sandy, bare-heided, up +to the knees amon' his tatties, ruggin' an' roarin', like the skipper +o' some schooner that was rinnin' on the rocks. I'll swear, Sandy got +roond his roonds an' a' his tatties delivered in less than half the +time Donal' took! The wives an' laddies were gaitherin' up the tatties +a' the wey to Tutties Nook; and gin Sandy got to the milestane his +cairt was tume. By this time Princie was fair puffed out, an' he +drappit i' the middle o' the road, Sandy gaen catma ower the tap o' him. +</P> + +<P> +Donal's back till his auld job! Sandy lost thirty shillin's an' a +cairt-load o' tatties ower the heid o' Princie; an' as for the he +tortyshall kitlin', I've never heard nor seen hint nor hair o't. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +II. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SANDY STARTS TO STUDY GEOMETRY. +</H3> + + +<P> +"Man, Bawbie, I think I'll see an' get into the Toon Cooncil some o' +thae days," says Sandy to me the ither forenicht. "Me an' some o' the +rest o' the chaps have been haein' a bit o' an argeyment i' the +washin'-house this nicht or twa back, an' I tell you, I can gabble awa' +aboot public questions as weel's some o' them i' the Cooncil. I ga'e +them a bit screed on the watter question on Setarday nicht that garred +them a' gape; an' Dauvit Kenawee said there an' then that I shud see +an' get a haud o' the Ward Committee an' get a chance o' pettin' my +views afore them. They a' said I was a born spowter, an' that wi' a +little practice I cud speechify the half o' the Cooncil oot at the +door." +</P> + +<P> +I hit Sandy blether awa' for a whilie, an' syne I strikes in, "Ay, +juist that, Sandy; but you'll mibby g'wa' an' get that tume saft soap +barrel scraipit oot, an' the wechts gi'en a black lead; an' we'll hear +aboot the Toon Cooncil efter your wark's dune." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, but I'll manish that, Bawbie," says he, gey snappish-like; "but +still a man wi' brains in's heid canna juist be setisfeed wi' saft soap +an' black lead a'thegither." +</P> + +<P> +"Ow weel," says I, "you wud mibby fa' in wi' a fell lot o' baith o' +them, even i' the Toon Cooncil. When you're wantin' a favour, a little +saft soap—altho' it's only scraipins—is sometimes a very handy thing +to hae; an' if you dinna get what you want, you can pet on the black +lead syne. There's a fell lot o' that kind o' thing gaen on, an' nae +mistak'. There's Beylie Thingymabob, for instance—but, of coorse, +that's no' the point——" +</P> + +<P> +"What I was sayin'," brock in Sandy, "was that when a man's heid's fu' +o' brains, an' them wirkin' juist like barm, he maun hae some +occupation for his intelleck, or his facilties 'ill gie wey. There's +Bandy Wobster, for instance, tak's up his heid wi' gomitry an' +triangles an' siclike, juist 'cause he has some brains in his heid, an' +maun occupy them; an' what for no' me as weel?" +</P> + +<P> +"Gomitry an' triangles!" says I. "Ye'll mibby be for into the flute +band next, are ye? Weel, I'll tell you this—I ken naething aboot the +gomitry, or what like a thing it is; but if you bring ony o' your +triangles here, wi' there ping ping-pinkey-pingin', I'll pet them doon +the syre; that's what I'll do. I like music o' near ony kind. I can +pet up wi' the melodian or the concertina; but yon triangle thing I +wudna hae i' the hoose. You can tell Bandy Wobster he can keep his +triangles for his parrots swingin' on. We want neen o' them here." +</P> + +<P> +"Tut, Bawbie, 'oman," says Sandy, "you're juist haiverin' straucht +forrit. It's no' flute band triangles I mean ava. It's the anes you +see in books—a' shapes an' sizes, ye know. Bandy learned a' aboot +them when he was at the sea. Sailors learn aboot them for measurin' +hoo far onywey is frae ony ither wey, d'ye know, d'ye see? Bandy tells +me that gomitry—that's what they ca' the book fu' o' triangles—is a +grand thing for learnin' you to speak; an' he offered to gi'e me a +lesson or twa." +</P> + +<P> +"That'll be whaur Bandy gets a' his gab," says I. "I think, Sandy," I +says, says I, "that you've mair need to learn something to garr you +haud your tongue. You've nae need for learnin' to speak, weel-a-wat, +excep' it be to speak sense; an' I dinna suppose gomitry 'ill do you +ony guid that wey. It's made but a puir job o' Bandy Wobster, at +onyrate." +</P> + +<P> +"That's a' you ken, Bawbie," says Sandy. "There's mair in Bandy than +the spune pets in; mind I'm tellin' you. He was tellin's aboot some o' +the exyems in gomitry lest nicht, an', I'll swag, he garred Cocky +Baxter, the auld dominie, chowl his chafts." +</P> + +<P> +"Exyems!" says I. "Is that the same as exy-oey we used to play at on +oor sklates at the skule?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, no, no, no, no," says Sandy. "What are you haiverin' aboot, +Bawbie? It's a different kind o' thing a'thegither. The first exyem +is that onything that's equal to the same thing as ony ither thing, is +equal to the thing that's equal to the thing to which the ither thing's +equal, d'ye know, d'ye see?" +</P> + +<P> +"By faigs, Sandy," says I, "that's waur than exy-oey yet. What was't +you said?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's as plain as twice-twa's fower, Bawbie, if you juist watch," says +Sandy. "If ae thing is equal till anither thing, an' the ither thing's +equal to some ither thing that's equal to the thing that the first +thing's equal till, then you can easy see that the ae thing 'ill be +equal to the ither, as weel as to the ither thing that they're baith +equal till." +</P> + +<P> +I thocht Sandy was raley gettin' akinda lichtwecht, d'ye ken, for I cud +nether mak' heid nor tail o' his confused blethers. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep me, Bawbie, do you no' see through't?" he says, glowerin' at me +wi' a queer-like look in his e'e. "Gie's three bawbees! Look now; +there's thae three bawbees. Weel than, here's twa here, an' there's +ane there. Noo, this ane here is equal to that ane there, an' this +ither ane here is equal to that ane there too; so that, when they're +baith equal to that ane, the teen maun be equal to the tither. A blind +bat cud see that wi' its een shut." +</P> + +<P> +Sandy set himsel' up like's he'd pey'd a big account or something, an', +gien his heid a gey impident cock to the tae side, he says, "D'ye no' +see't?" +</P> + +<P> +"See't?" says I, I says. "What wud bender's frae seein't? An' is +that what gomitry learns you?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"It is that," says Sandy. "That's the first exyem." +</P> + +<P> +"Weel," says I, "it tak's a michty lang road to tell you what ony +three-'ear-auld bairn in the G-O goes cud tell you in a jiffy." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, but it's the mental dreel that's the vailable thing," says Sandy. +"It learns you to argey, d'ye no' see? If I had a glisk at gomitry for +a nicht or twa, an' got a puckle triangles an' parilelly grams into my +heid, I'll be fit to gie a scrieve on the watter question, or the +scaffies' wadges, that'll garr some o' oor Toon Cooncillers crook their +moos. Wait till you see!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, Sandy," says I, "you'll go an' get the swine suppered an' your +ither jobs dune, an', gin ten o'clock were here, you'll get a coo's +drink, wi' plenty o' pepper in't, an' get to your bed. Thae +washin'-hoose argeymints are affectin' your nervous system, I'm +dootin'. Rin, noo, an' see an' stick in." +</P> + +<P> +I raley thocht, mind you, the wey the cratur was haiverin', that he +wantit tippence i' the shillin'. +</P> + +<P> +"I wad juist like you to hear ane o' oor debates, an' you'd cheenge +your opinion," says Sandy. "Bandy promised to tell's something the +morn's nicht aboot the postylate in gomitry. I juist wiss you heard +him." +</P> + +<P> +"What wud there be to hear aboot that?" says I. "Oor ane's juist the +very same; he's near-hand aye late." +</P> + +<P> +"Wha?" says Sandy, wi' a winderin' look in his e'e. +</P> + +<P> +"Oor postie!" says I; "he's aye late. You'll of'en hear his whistle i' +the street when it's efter ten o'clock at nicht." +</P> + +<P> +Sandy gaed shauchlin' oot at the door, chuck-chuck-chuckin' awa' till +himsel' like a clockin' hen, an' I didna see hint nor hair o' him for +mair than twa 'oors efter. But what cud ye expeck? That's juist aye +the wey o' thae men when they get the warst o't. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +III. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SANDY AND THE DINNER BELL, +</H3> + + +<P> +Crack aboot holidays! I tell you, I'd raither do a day's washin' an' +cleaning', ay, an' do the ironin' an' manglin' efter that, than face +anither holiday like what Sandy an' me had this week. Holiday! It's a +winder there wasna a special excursion comin' hame wi' Sandy's bur'al. +If that man's no' killed afore lang, he'll be gettin' in amon' thae +anarkist billies or something. I tell you he's fit eneuch for onything. +</P> + +<P> +We took the cheap trip to Edinboro, juist to hae a bit look round the +metrolopis, as Sandy ca'd it to the fowk i' the train. He garred me +start twa-three times sayin't; I thocht he'd swallowed his pipe-shank, +he gae sic a babble. +</P> + +<P> +We wasna weel startit afore he begude wi' his nonsense. There was a +young bit kimmerie an' a bairnie i' the carriage, an' the craturie grat +like onything. "I winder what I'll do wi' this bairn?" said the +lassie; an' Sandy, in the middle o' argeyin' wi' anither ass o' a man +that the Arbroath cricketers cud lick the best club i' the country, +says, rale impident like to the lassie, "Shuve't in ablo the seat." +</P> + +<P> +"You hertless vegabon," says I; "think shame o' yoursel! Gie me the +bairnie," says I; an' I got the craturie cowshined an' quieted. +</P> + +<P> +There was nae mair nonsense till we cam till a station in Fife wi' an' +awfu'-like name. I canna mind what it was, an' never will, I suppose. +The stationmester had an awfu' reed nose—most terriple. +</P> + +<P> +"Is the strawberries a gude crap roond aboot here?" said Sandy till +him, out at the winda; an' you never heard what lauchin' as there was +on the pletform. The stationmester's face got as reed's his nose, an' +he ca'd Sandy for a' the impident whaups that ever travelled. +</P> + +<P> +Sal, Sandy stack up till him, though; an' when the train moved awa' the +fowk hurrehed like's it had been a royal marriage. The stationmester +didna hurreh ony. +</P> + +<P> +Gaen ower the Forth Brig I thocht twa-three times Sandy wud be oot at +the window heid-lang. I was juist in a fivver wi' him an' his ongaens. +Hooever, we landit a' richt in Edinboro. An' what a day! I thocht +when we got to a temperance hotel at nicht that I had a chance o' an +'oor's peace. But haud your tongue! Weesht! I'll juist gie you the +thick o' the story clean aff luif. +</P> + +<P> +It was a rale comfortable-lookin' hoose, and we got a nice +clean-lookin' bedroom, an' efter a'thing was arranged, Sandy an' me +gaed awa' doon as far as Holyrood, whaur Queen Mary got ane o' her +fiddlers killed, an' whaur John Knox redd her up for carryin' on like a +pagan linkie instead o' the Queen o' Scotland. Weel, it was gey late +when we got back to oor hotel, an' we juist had a bit snack o' supper, +an' up the stair we gaed. We were three stairs up. We had a seat, an' +a crack an' a look oot at the winda, for we saw a lang wey ower the +toun, an' it was bonnie to watch the lichts twinklin' an' to hear the +soonds. +</P> + +<P> +Twal o'clock chappit, an' we thocht it was time we were beddit. I was +anower, an' Sandy was juist a' ready, when he cudna fa' in wi' his +nichtkep. It was in a handbag o' Sandy's, and he had left it doon in +the lobby. Sandy canna sleep without his nichtkep—no' him! +</P> + +<P> +"What am I genna do?" says Sandy. He was in his lang white nichtgoon, +and he gaed to the room door an' opened it. He lookit oot, but a'thing +was as quiet's death. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll rin doon for't," says he; "a'body's beddit. I'll juist rin doon, +an' I'll bring up my umberell an' my hat at the same time, for fear +they micht be liftit. You never can tell." +</P> + +<P> +Awa' doou the stairs he gaed in his lang nichtgoon, for a' the earth +juist like some corp escapit frae the kirkyaird. He wasna a meenit oot +when I dreedit something wud happen, an' I juist sat up tremblin' in +the bed. +</P> + +<P> +Sandy got doon to the lobby a' richt; an' a'thing was dark, an' as +still's the grave. He scrammilt aboot till he got the bag; syne he +fand for his lum hat, an' put it on his heid. He got his umberell in +his oxter, an' the bag in his hand, an' then he fand roond juist to see +if there was naething else he had forgotten. By ill-fortune he cam' on +the handle o' the denner bell, an' liftin't, it ga'e a creesh an' a +clang that knokit a' the sense oot o' Sandy's heid, and wauken'd half +the fowk i' the hoose. Sandy took till his heels up the stair; an' a +gey like picture he was, wi' his lang, white sark-tails fleein' i' the +air, a lum hat on his heid, an umberell in his oxter, the bag in ae +hand, an' the denner bell i' the ither, bangin' an' clangin' at ilky +jump. It wudda frichten'd the very deevil himsel'. The stupid auld +fule had gotten that doited that he cam' fleein' awa' wi' the bell in +his hand. +</P> + +<P> +There was a cry o' fire, and a scream o' murder, an' in half a meenit +the hotel was as busy as gin it had been broad daylicht. Sandy forgot +hoo mony stairs he had to clim', and he gaed bang in on an auld sea +captain an' his wife, in the room below oors. It fair paralised baith +o' them, when they saw Sandy comin' burst in on them wi' his black +tile, his white goon, his umberell an' bag, an' the denner bell. +</P> + +<P> +"P'leece, p'leece," roared the captain an' his wife—an' Sandy oot at +the door. Awa' alang a passage he gaed, fleein' like a huntit tod. I +heard him as gin he'd been doon in the very bowels o' the earth cryin', +"Bawbie, Bawbie! Oh, whaur are ye, Bawbie?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wha i' the earth is he, or what's ado wi' him?" I heard somebody speer. +</P> + +<P> +"Gude kens," said anither voice. "It's shurely some milkman wi' the +bloo deevils." +</P> + +<P> +"Milkman! What wud a milkman do wi' an umberell, a portmanty, an' a +lum hat?" +</P> + +<P> +Juist at that meenit Sandy cam' fleein' alang the passage again, an' by +this time a' the fowk in the hotel were oot on the stairs. If you had +only seen the scrammel. They scoored doon the stairs, into pantries, +in below tables; the room doors were bangin' like thunder, an' Sandy's +bell was ringin' like's Gabriel had lost his trumpet. You never heard +sic a din. I saw him comin' leggin' up the stair. The stairheid was +fu' o' fowk, a' oot in their nicht-goons to see what was ado; but, I +can ashure you, when they saw Sandy comin' fleein' up, they shune +disappeared. Six policemen cudna scattered them so quick. He came +spankin' into my room, an' drappit intil a chair, fair oot o' pech. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Bawbie, Bawbie!" he cried, "gi'e's a drink. Tak' that umberell," +he says, haudin' oot the bell to me. "I've been fleein' a' roond +Edinboro wi' naething on but my nicht-goon, an' my lum, an' a' the coal +cairters i' the kingdom ringin' their bells at my tails. Sic a wey o' +doin'! O dear me! I wiss I was hame again! O dear me!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's no an umberell, you doited fule," says I. "That's the denner +bell you've been fleein' aboot wi' i' your hand." +</P> + +<P> +Sandy lookit at the bell; an' you never saw sic a face as he put on. +He lut it drap on the flure wi' a clash like a clap o' thunder, an' I +heard a crood o' fowk scurryin' awa' frae oor bedroom door. +</P> + +<P> +I tell'd the landlord hoo the thing happened, an' next mornin' at +brakfast time you never heard sic lauchin'. A' the chaps were clappin' +Sandy on the shuder; an' ane o' them says—"Ay, man; it's no mony fowk +that tak's their lum hat an' their umberell to their bed wi' them." +</P> + +<P> +But the auld skipper was the king amon' them a'. Hoo he raggit Sandy +aboot bein' a somnambulashinist or something. +</P> + +<P> +"When you want to steal a denner bell," he said to Sandy, "carry't by +the tongue, man. It's safer that wey. Bells an' weemin are awfu' +beggars when their tongues get lowse." +</P> + +<P> +The captain was rale taen wi' Sandy, an', mind you, he hired a cab an' +drave Sandy an' me a' roond the toon. He said he was bidin' in +Carnoustie, and he wadna hae a nasay but we wud come an' hae a cup o' +tea wi' him. "An' if you'll bide a' nicht," he said, "we'll be awfu' +pleased. An' I'll chain up the denner bell i' the dog's cooch juist +for that nicht." +</P> + +<P> +Ay, weel! it's fine lauchin' noo when it's a' ower. But if you'd been +in my place, you wudna lauchen muckle, I'se warrant. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IV. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A TALK ABOUT HEAVEN. +</H3> + + +<P> +Sandy got a terrible dose o' the cauld lest week. I never hardly saw +him so bad. He was ootbye at the plooin' match lest Wedensday, an' +he's hardly ever been ootower the door sin' syne. There was a nesty +plook cam' oot juist abune his lug on Setarday, an' he cudna get on his +lum hat; so he had to bide at hame a' Sabbath, an' he spent the feck o' +the day i' the hoose readin' Tammas Boston's "Power-fold State" an' the +"Pilgrim's Progress." Ye see, Sandy's a bit o' a theologian aye when +he's onweel. If he's keepit i' the hoose wi' a host or a sair heid, +Sandy juist tak's a dose o' medicin', an' starts to wirry awa' at +Bunyan or the Bible. He's a queer cratur that wey, for as halikit a +character as he is. +</P> + +<P> +But we had a kind o' a kirk o' oor ain on Sabbath i' the forenicht, for +Dauvid Kenawee cam' in, an' syne Bandy Wobster; an' they werena weel +set doon when in cam' Jacob Teylor, the smith, an' Stumpie Mertin alang +wi' them. Gairner Winton cam' in to speer what had come ower Sandy, +for he hadna seen him at the kirk. Ye never saw sic a hoosefu'! Sandy +was sittin' at the fireside wi' an auld greatcoat an' a hairy bonnet +on, an' a' the sax o' them fell to the crackin', ye never heard the +like. Ye wudda really thocht it was a meetin' o' the Presbitree—they +were a' speaking that throwither. +</P> + +<P> +"An' what was the minister on the nicht, Gairner?" I says, says I, +juist to stop them yabblin' aboot politicks, an' a' the like o' that +nonsense on Sabbath nicht. +</P> + +<P> +"He had twa texts the nicht, Bawbie," said the Gairner. "He took the +wirds in Second Kings, second an' elevent, an' in Luke, nint an' +thirtieth, an' a fine discoorse he made o't, aboot Elijah bein' taen up +to heaven in the fiery chariot, an' comin' again a hunder or a thoosand +'ear efter, juist the same billie as he gaed awa'. He made oot that +we'd meet a' oor deid freends in heaven again, an' juist ken them the +same as though they'd only been awa' frae hame for a cheenge for a +while." +</P> + +<P> +"I dinna haud wi' yon view o' the thing ava," said Bandy Wobster. "He +wud hae's a' believe that fowk never grow a bit aulder in heaven. The +thing appears to me to be ridic'lous. Elijah, a thoosand 'ear efter he +was taen up, cam' back withoot being a bit cheenged ether ae wey or +anither; that was his idea o't." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a gey ticklish subjeck," put in the Smith; "but, faigs, lads, I +haud wi' the minister." +</P> + +<P> +He's an awtu' nice, cowshis man the Smith. Ye wud sometimes think he +was meent for a minister, he says things that clever; an' a body aye +feels the better efter a crack wi' him. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye see," he gaed on, "I wadna like it to be ony ither wey. Ye mind o' +my little Elsie? Puir lassie, it's—lat me see; ay, it's twal' 'ear +come Mertimas sin' she was taen awa'. Ay, man; an' she taen mair o' my +heart wi' her in her bit coffinie than she left ahent her. A bonnie +bit lassie she was, Bawbie, as ye'll mind. She was juist seven past +when she was taen awa'; an' when I meet her again, I wud like her to be +juist the same bonnie bit lassokie that cam' in wi' her pawlie that +Setarday efternune an' tell'd me she had a sair heid—the henmist sair +heid ever she was genna hae. Ye see, lads, if Elsie was growin' aulder +in heaven, she wud be a woman nearhand twenty gin this time, an' she +wudna be the same to me ava." An' the Smith lookit into the heart o' +the fire like's he had tint something; an' I saw his een fill. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the minister's wey o' lookin' at the thing too, I think," said +the Gairner; "but I canna juist fathom't, I maun admit." +</P> + +<P> +"There's something in what the Smith says," said Bandy; "but if there's +to be nae growin' ony aulder i' the next world, there'll be some fowk +'ill hae a gey trauchle. There was Mysie Wilkie's bairn that de'ed +doon there i' the Loan a fortnicht syne. It was a puir wammily-lookin' +cratur, an' was only but aucht days auld when it took bruntkadis an' +closed, juist in an 'oor or twa. Mysie, puir cratur, never kent. She +was brainish a' the time, an' she follow'd her bairnie twa days efter. +D'ye mean to tell me that Mysie 'ill be dwanged trailin' throo a' +eternity wi' a bit bairnie aucht days auld, an' it never gettin' even +the lenth o' bein' doakit, lat aleen growin' up to be able to tak' care +o'ts sel? The thing's no rizzenable." +</P> + +<P> +"But there wud be plenty bit lassies to gie the bairn a hurl in a +coach," said the Tailor. "I dinna see hoo Mysie cudna get redd o' her +bairn for an' oor noo an' than." +</P> + +<P> +"But that wud juist be a dwang to the lassies, syne," answered Bandy. +</P> + +<P> +"That's a thing I've often thocht aboot mysel'," says Sandy; "an' the +only wey I cud mak' it oot was that a'body in heaven 'ill be juist i' +their prime. I've thocht to mysel' that a' the men folk wud be, say, +aboot thirty-five 'ear auld, or atween that an' forty, an' the weemin +mibby fower or five 'ear younger." +</P> + +<P> +"An' wud they be a' ae size, d'ye think?" says Stumpie Mertin. +Stumpie's a tailor, ye see, an' I suppose he'd been winderin' aboot hoo +he wud manish wi' the measurin'. +</P> + +<P> +"I canna say naething aboot the size," says Sandy; "it's the auldness +we're taen up aboot i' the noo." +</P> + +<P> +"Na, na, Sandy; your wey o't 'ill no' do ava," said the Smith. +"There'll be bairns an' auld fowk in heaven as weel's here. Auld fowk +'ill no' get dune or dotal, like what they do i' this world, +undootedly; but there'll be young fowk for them to guide an' advise. +It wud be a puir wey o' doin', I'm thinkin', whaur naebody was wyzer +than his neeper, an' whaur ye wud never hae the chance o' doin' a +freend a gude turn." +</P> + +<P> +"It's past my comprehension," said the Gairner. "Maist fowk thinks +it'll be a braw place, whaur there'll be nae trauchle or trouble wi' +onything; but I doot we maun juist tak' the Bible for't, lads, an' hae +faith that it'll be a' richt, whatever wey it comes aboot." +</P> + +<P> +"There's ae thing, though, that I dinna haud wi' the minister in ava," +said the Smith. "I canna thole the idea o' great croods o' stoot men +and weemin daidlin' aboot a' day doin' naething but singin' hymes. +I've often thocht aboot that, an' raley, Sandy, I dinna think I cud be +happy onywey if I didna hae my studio an' my hammer wi' me; for I'm +juist meeserable when I'm hingin' aboot idle. As for singin', I canna +sing a single bum. It's no' like the thing ava for weel-faur'd fowk to +do naething but trail aboot sing-singin' week-in week-oot. It may do +for litlans, an' precentir budies, like Mertin here; but able-bodied +fowk, wi' a' their faculties, cudna pet up wi't for a week, lat aleen +a' eternity." +</P> + +<P> +Stumpie's an awfu' peppery budy, an' though the Smith leuch when he +made his joke at the tailor's precentin', Mertin got as raised as a +wasp, and he yattered back—"You'll maybe be better aff i' the ither +place, wi' your auld horse shune an' your smiddy reek, ye auld +acowder——" +</P> + +<P> +"Toot, toot, Mertin; dinna get angry," says the Smith. "It was but a +joke, man. I've nae doot that I wud hardly be i' the right place amon' +angels an' sic like billies. But I tell ye what it is, I maun wirk for +my livin' in heaven as weel's here, if ever I get there. I cud never +pet aff my time gaen aboot doin' naething an' that's whaur I differ +frae the minister." +</P> + +<P> +"But I think we're tell'd that there'll be mony mansions," says I; "an' +nae doubt there'll be mony kinds o' occupation too. There'll be a +chance for's a' bein' happy in oor ain wey, I'm thinkin'. I only wiss +we was sure we wud a' get there." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, Bawbie, lassie, that's whaur you're wyzer than the whole dollop +o's," says the Smith. "We're takin' up oor heids aboot a place we may +never get till; an', I'm thinkin', it'll be better for's a' to stick in +here an' do what's fair an' richt. If we mak' shure o' that, we may +lave a' the rest till a higher hand." +</P> + +<P> +Mistress Kenawee landit in to see what had come ower Dauvid, an', dear +me, when I lookit at the tnock, here, it was five meenits to ten. We'd +been argeyin' that muckle aboot eternity, that we'd forgotten aboot the +time a'thegither. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +V. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MISTRESS MIKAVER'S TEA PARTY. +</H3> + + +<P> +I'll swag, mind ye, but the men's no' far wrang when they say that +weemin have most dreedfu' lang tongues. Dod, mind ye, but it's ower +troo; it's ower troo! +</P> + +<P> +Mistress Mikaver wud hae me alang to a cup o' tea lest Teysday +efternune; so I gae my hands an' face a bit dicht, an' threw on my +Sabbath goon, an' awa' I gaed. I fell in wi' Mistress Kenawee on the +road, an', gin we landit, there was a gaitherin' o' wives like what you +wudda seen ony mornin' at the Mossy Wall afore the noo water supply was +brocht in aboot the toon. +</P> + +<P> +Mysie Meldrum was there wi' a braw noo print frock on. Hand your +tongue! Five bawbees the yaird! I saw the very marrows o't in Hantin +the draper's remmindar winda. But, faigs, Mysie was prood o't, an' nae +mistak. It was made i' the first o' fashion, a' drawn i' the briest, +an' shuders as big's smokit hams, wi' Mysie's bit facie lookin' oot +atween them, like's she was sittin' in an auld-fashioned easychair. +But, of coorse, I never bather my heid aboot what wey fowk's dressed. +</P> + +<P> +Mistress Mollison was juist as assorted as uswal. She'd as muckle on +as wudda dressed twa or three folk, an' she was ill-cled at that. +</P> + +<P> +"What'll hae come o' her seal jeckit?" says Mistress Kenawee to me, wi' +a nudge, when we gaed ben the hoose to get oor things aff; but I said +naething, for, the fac' o' the maitter is, I thocht Mistress Kenawee a +fell sicht hersel'. There was a great target o' black braid hingin' +frae the tail o' her goon, an' the back seam o' her body was riven in +twa-three places. An' if the truth be tell'd, I wasna very braw +mysel'. Thinks I to mysel', as I've heard the Gairner's wife say, them +that hae riven breeks had better keep their seats. +</P> + +<P> +Gairner Winton's wife was there, lookin' as happy an' impident as +uswal; an' Ribekka Steein cam' in juist as me an' Mistress Kenawee were +gettin' set doon amon' the rest. Mistress Mikaver was quite my leddy, +an' was rinnin' frae the teen to the tither o's juist terriple anxious +to mak's a' at hame, an' makin's a' meesirable. I windered that the +cratur didna gae heidlang ower some o' the stules she had sittin' +aboot; but she got through wi' a' her fairlies an' the tea maskit +withoot ony mishap, an' we got a' set roond the table for oor tea. +</P> + +<P> +Mistress Mikaver had oot her mither's cheenie, an' a braw tablecloth, +o' her mither's ain spinnin' she tell'd's. She has an awfu' hoosefu' +o' stech, Mistress Mikaver; press efter press, an' kist efter kist fu'. +I ashure you, the lass that gets young Alek 'ill no want for providin'. +</P> + +<P> +She had a'thing in fine order; it was a perfeck treat to sit doon; an' +I noticed a braw noo pentin' o' the scone-baker hung abune the chumla. +He maun hae left a fell feck o' bawbees, for I ashure ye his weeda has +a fu' hoose, an' aye plenty to do wi'. +</P> + +<P> +Weel-a-weel, we had oor tea, as I was tellin' ye, an' a fine cup it +was. Eh, it's a nice thing a cup o' fresh tea. There's naething I +like better; it's that refreshin', especially if you've somebody to +crack till when you're at it. An', I'll swag, we didna weary for want +o' crackin' that efternune. The Gairner's wife an' Mysie Meldrum are +twa awfu' tagues for tongue; an' some o' the rest o's werena far to the +hent, I'm dootin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Noo, juist see an' mak' yersels a' at hame," said Mistress Mikaver, in +her uswal fizzy kind o' wey. +</P> + +<P> +"An', as the auld sayin' is, gin ye dinna like what's set doon, juist +tak' what ye brocht wi' ye," says Mistress Winton, an' set's a' to the +lauchin'. You never heard sic a cratur for thae auld-farrant sayin's; +an' Mysie's no' far ahent. Dod, they pappit ane anither wi' proverbs +juist like skule laddies wi' snawba's. +</P> + +<P> +"There's Moses Certricht's wife awa' by there," says Mistress Kenawee, +pointin' oot at the winda. "She's a clorty, weirdless-lookin' cratur. +I'm dootin' Moses hasna muckle o' a hame wi' her, the gloidin' tawpie +'at she is." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh, haud your tongue!" said Mistress Mollison. "The puir man's juist +fair hudden doon wi' her, the lazy, weirdless trail. But it's the +bairns I'm sorra for. Ye'll see them i' the mornin' gaen awa' berfit +to the skule, an' a seerip piece i' their hand, wi' fient o' hand or +face o' them washen, an' their claes as greasy as a cadger's pooch. +It's a winder to me 'at Moses disna tak' to drink." +</P> + +<P> +"He has himsel' to blame," brook in the Gairner's wife. "She cam' o' +an ill breed. He kent what she was afore he married her. Ye canna +mak' a silk purse oot o' a soo's lug. Eh, na! Gin ye want a guid +sheaf, gang aye to a guid stook." +</P> + +<P> +"You're richt there, Mistress Winton," said Mysie. "Tak' a cat o' your +ain kind an' it'll no' scart ye, my mither used to say; an' I'm shure +I've seen that come true of'en, of'en." +</P> + +<P> +"They tell me," said Mistress Kenawee, "that Moses gie's her +seven-an'-twinty shillin's every week to keep her hoose wi'. What she +does wi't it beats me to mak' oot. Mony a mither wud be gled o' the +half o't i' the noo, an' wud feed an' deed half a dizzen bairns on't." +</P> + +<P> +"But Moses is a fooshinless, hingin'-aboot kind o' a whaup," says I. +"The blame's mibby no' a' on ae side o' the hoose. There's lots o' +your braw billies ye wudna need to follow ower their ain doorstap. +When there's din an' dirt i' the hoose, the wife aye gets the dirdum. +Moses has ower muckle to say aboot the wife. She may be ill, but he's +no' the pairty to saw't like neep seed ower a' the countryside." +</P> + +<P> +"You're richt there, Bawbie," said Mistress Winton. "I've tell'd Moses +that till's face afore the day. They're scarce o' noos that tells +their father was hanged." +</P> + +<P> +"He's an ill man that blackgairds his wife, altho' she were the +deevil's sister," says Mysie; an' even Ribekka gae her moo a dicht, an' +whispered to hersel', "Eh, aye, that's a troo sayin'." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll no' say a wird again' men," said Mistress Mikaver, "for Wellum +was a guid man to me"; an' she took a lang breth throo her nose, an' +lookit up at the picture abune the chumla. "I think I've seen Moses +the waur o' a dram; but he looks a quiet eneuch stock," gays she. +</P> + +<P> +"He's some like my man," I strak in. "He's gey an' of'en oot aboot +when he shud be at hame. There's no' muckle hertnin' for a woman when +she's left to trauchle day oot day in wi' seven litlans, an' a +thrawn-gabbit footer o' a man juist comin' in at diet times, rennyin' +aboot first ae thing an' syne anither, threapin' that his porritch is +no' half boiled, simmerin' an' winterin' aboot haen to wait a meenit or +twa for his denner or his tea. Moses Certricht's a soor, nyattery bit +body, an' he tarragats the wife most unmercifu' aboot ilky little bit +kyowowy. She may be nae better than she's ca'd. She has nae throwpet +wi' her wark, an' she's terriple weirdless wi' her hoose; but she get's +michty little frae Moses to mend her—that's my opinion." +</P> + +<P> +"Muckle aboot ane, Bawbie, as the deil said to the cobbler," says +Mysie. "I wudna say but you're mibby richt eneuch." +</P> + +<P> +"Dawtit dochters mak' daidlin' wives," said the Gairner's wife. "She +was spoilt at hame, afore Moses saw her. Her mither thocht there was +nae lassies like hers, an' I'm shure she saired them hand an' fit. But +you'll of'en see't, that wirkin' mithers mak' feckless dochters. At +the same time, as my mither used of'en to say, an ill shearer never got +a guid heuk, an', I daursay, Moses an' his wife, as uswally occurs, +baith blame ane anither." +</P> + +<P> +We feenisht oor tea, an' got set doon at the winda wi' oor stockin's +an' oor seams, juist to hae a richt corrieneuchin, as Mistress Winton +ca'd it. Mysie an' me were baith at ribbit socks, so we tried a stent +wi' ane anither. But Mysie's tongue gaed fully fester than her wires, +an' I'd raither the better o' her. She forgot a' aboot her intaks, an' +had her stockin' leg a guid bit ower lang when she cam' to the tnot on +her wirsit. +</P> + +<P> +"A thochtless body's aye thrang," said the Gairner's wife, as Mysie +began to tak' doon what she'd wrocht. +</P> + +<P> +"Toot ay," said Mysie. "Gin a budy be gaen doon the brae, ilky ane +'ill gie ye a gundy." +</P> + +<P> +The twa keepit at it wi' their proverbs till I got akinda nervish, d'ye +ken. They were that terriple wyze, that, as fac's ocht, mind you, they +near drave some o' the rest o's daft. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you hear tell that Ribekka here was genna get Jeems Ethart?" said +Mistress Mollison to the Gairner's wife, juist to get her on to Beek's +tap. +</P> + +<P> +Ribekka blushed like a lassie o' fifteen, an' bringin' her tongue alang +her upper lip, she shook her heid an' says, "Juist a lot o' blethers. +Jeems wudna hae a puir thing like me." +</P> + +<P> +"Ye dinna tell me!" said Mistress Winton, never lattin' wink she heard +Ribekka. "That's the wey o't is't? Imphm! What d'ye think o' that, +na? Weel dune, Ribekka. He's a fine coodie man, Jeems; an' he'll tak' +care o' Ribekka, the young taed. Wha wudda thocht it?" +</P> + +<P> +Ribekka had her moo half fu' o' the lace on her saitin apron, an' was +enjoyin' the raggin' fine, altho' she was terriple putten aboot, wi' +her wey o't. +</P> + +<P> +"Better sit still than rise up an' fa'," said Mysie. "Gin I were +Ribekka I'd bide my leen. I wud like to see the man that wud tak' me +oot o' my present state." +</P> + +<P> +"He wudna need to be very parteeklar," says I, juist to gie Mysie a +backca'; for she was sailin' gey near the wind, I thocht. "When I was +young," I says, says I—— +</P> + +<P> +"Auld wives were aye gude maidens," the Gairner's wife strak in; an' I +saw I was cornered, an' said nae mair. +</P> + +<P> +"An' a weeda man too!" said Mysie wi' a grumph. "Better keep the deil +atower the door than drive him oot o' the hoose." +</P> + +<P> +"'Saut,' quo the souter, when he ate the soo, an' worried on the tail," +was the Gairner's wife's comment; an' Mysie didna like it, I can tell +ye. +</P> + +<P> +"You wasna in that wey o' thinkin' when Dossie Millar, the skulemester, +used to come an' coort you, when you was up-by at the Provost's," said +Ribekka to Mysie. "If it hadna been for the lid o' the water-barrel +gien wey yon nicht, you michta been skelpin' Dossie's bairns the +day—an' your ain too." +</P> + +<P> +We a' took a hearty lauch at Ribekka's ootburst. +</P> + +<P> +"Eh, that was a pliskie," said Mistress Kenawee. "Dossie got a gey +drookin' that nicht. They said it was ane o' the coachmen that was +efter Mysie that sawed the lid half throo; an' when Dossie climbed up +to hae his crack wi' Mysie at the winda, in he gaed up to the lugs. +The story was that Mysie fair lost her chance wi' him, wi' burstin' oot +lauchin' when he climbed oot o' the barrel soakin'-dreepin' throo an' +throo. He never got ower't, for it got oot aboot, an' the very bairns +at the skule began to ca' him the Drookit Dominie. He got a job at the +Druckendub skule, an' never lookit Mysie's airt again." +</P> + +<P> +"You're grand crackers," said Mysie. "Ye ken a hankie mair than ever +happened; but, the man that cheats me ance, shame fa' him; gin he cheat +me twice, shame fa' me. That's my wey o' lookin' at things." +</P> + +<P> +This kind o' raggin' at ane anither gaed on for the feck o' the +forenicht, an' we were juist i' the thick o' a' tirr-wirr aboot the +best cure for the kink-host, when the doonstairs door gaed clash to the +wa', an' in anither meenit in banged Sandy in his sark sleeves, an' his +hair fleein' like a bundle o' ravelled threed. +</P> + +<P> +"Michty tak' care o' me, Sandy," says I, I says; "what's happened?" +</P> + +<P> +"Aye the mair the merrier, but the fewer they fess the better," says +Mistress Winton. +</P> + +<P> +"Wha's been meddlin' wi' you, Sandy?" +</P> + +<P> +But fient a wird cud Sandy get oot. He was stanin' pechin' like a +podlie oot o' the watter, an' starin' roond him like a huntit dog. +</P> + +<P> +"Fiddlers' dogs and fleshers' flees come to feasts unbidden," said +Mysie; but Sandy gae her a glower that garred her steek her moo gey +quick. +</P> + +<P> +"What i' the earth's wrang, Sandy," I says, gien him a shak'. +</P> + +<P> +"Wh-wh-whaur's the g-grund ceenimin, Bawbie?" says Sandy. "There's a +tinkler wife needin' a bawbee's-wirth, an' I've socht the shop heich +an' laich for't." +</P> + +<P> +"Keep me, Sandy," says I, "is that what's brocht you here? You'll get +it in a mustard tin in the pepper drawer. But wha's i' the shop?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oo, juist the tinkler wife," says Sandy. +</P> + +<P> +"Weel, did you ever?" said Mistress Kenawee, haudin' up her hands. +</P> + +<P> +"No!" said Sandy, turnin' to her gey ill-natured like. "Did you?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's a type o' what ye ca' your men," says Mysie. "Weel, weel; +they're scarce o' cloots that mend their hose wi' dockens." +</P> + +<P> +"Bliss my hert, Sandy, she'll be awa' wi' the till atore ye get back," +I said. "Rin awa' yont as fest as your feet'll cairry ye." +</P> + +<P> +"The fient a fear o' that," Sandy strak in. "I gae the pileeceman +tippence to stand at the door till I cam' back. I'm no' juist so +daft's a' that, yet." +</P> + +<P> +"An' the tinkler wife wants a bawbee's wirth o' grund ceenimin?" said +the Gairner's wife. "That fair cows the cadger." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll rin than," said Sandy. "I'll fa' in wi't a' richt noo; ye needna +hurry, Bawbie," he added, as he made his wey oot; an' syne wi' the door +in's hand, he says, "The pileeceman's in a hurry too, ye see. He has +to hurl hame Gairner Winton. He's lyin' alang in Famie Tabert's +public-hoose terriple foo"; an' awa' he floo, takin' the door to ahent +him wi' a blatter like thunder. +</P> + +<P> +If you had seen Mistress Winton's face! It was a picture. She shogit +her heid frae side to side, wi' her moo shut, as if she wud never +open't again; but efter a whilie she spat oot twa-three wirds, juist +like's they'd been burnin' the tongue o' her. "A dog's tongue's nae +scandal," she yattered oot. +</P> + +<P> +"Better the end o' a feast than the beginnin' o' a pley," said Mysie. +"We mauna lat onybody get cankered. Come awa' and sit doon, Mistress +Winton. Bawbie's man juist wantit a dab at ye. Dinna mistak' yersel'; +the Gairner's as sober's a judge, I'se warrant." +</P> + +<P> +But the crackin' wudna tak' the road somewey efter this. There was a +fell feck o' hostin', an' ow-ayin', an' so on; so I cam' my wa's hame +afore aucht o'clock, for I was juist sittin' on heckle-pins thinkin' +ilka meenit Sandy wud be comin' thrash in on's, roarin' he'd set the +parafin cask afeyre. I was gled when I got hame an' fand a'thing in +winderfu' order; although Sandy was gien Nathan coosies i' the shop +jumpin' ower the coonter wi' ane o' his hands in his pooch. It's juist +his wey, the cratur. He canna help it. +</P> + +<P> +"Was the tinkler wife here when you cam' back?" I said to Sandy. +</P> + +<P> +"Oo, ay," says he. "I gae her her ceenimin." +</P> + +<P> +"There wudna be muckle profit oot o' that transaction, efter deduckin' +the pileeceman's tippence," I says, says I. "Hoo did ye no' juist say +that the grund ceenimin was a' dune?" +</P> + +<P> +"'Cause that wudda been a lee," said Sandy. +</P> + +<P> +"Weel, ye cud sen ye didna ken whaur it was," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"That wudda lookit ridic'lous, an' me the mester o' the shop," said +Sandy. +</P> + +<P> +"Weel, but d'ye no' see that it was ridic'lous to gie a pileeceman +tippence to watch a tinkler wife that wantit only a bawbee's-wirth o' +grund ceenimin," I says gey sharp till him. +</P> + +<P> +"Better g'ie the pileeceman tippence than tak' the cratur afore the +shirra for stealin', an' mibby hae the toon peyin' a lot o' bawbees for +keepin' her in the gyle, forby railroad tickets for her and twa peelars +up to Dundee. That wudda been fully mair gin tippence," said Sandy. +</P> + +<P> +Argeyin' wi' Sandy's juist like chasin' a whitterit in a drystane dyke. +When ye think you have him at ae hole, he juist pops throo anither. +Tach! When he's in thae argey-bargeyin' strums o' his, I canna be +bathered wi' him! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VI. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SANDY'S SECOND LESSON IN GEOMETRY. +</H3> + + +<P> +Wi' a' his foiterin' weys, there's a winderfu' speerit o' independence +aboot Sandy, d'ye ken? He disna care aboot being dawtit by onybody, +especially by folk he disna like. Juist the ither day, for instance, +Sandy was jumpin' doon aff the fore-end o' his cairt. His fit had +tickled in aboot the britchin somewey, an' he cam' lick doon on the +braid o' his back i' the gutter. The bobby was stanin' juist ower the +road at the time, an' cam' rinnin' across wi' his moo wide open. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep me, Sandy, cratur," he says, "what's happen'd? Did you fa' aff +the cairt?" +</P> + +<P> +"G'wa an' mind your ain bizness," says Sandy, jumpin' up, an' gien +himsel' a shak. "The cairt's my nain; I can come doon afen't ony wey I +like." +</P> + +<P> +The bobby gaed awa' rubbin' his chin. "Dod," he saya to Stumpie Mertin +at the corner o' the street "that man Bowden's the queerest jeeger ever +I cam across. He cam' thrash doon on the kribstane there i' the noo, +an' when I ran anower to see if he was ony waur, he juist gae me +impidence, an' said he cud come doon aff his cairt ony wey he liket. +Did you ever hear the like?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's a queer chield, Sandy," said Stumpie. "There's some folk thinks +he wants tippence i' the shillin', but it's my opinion there's aboot +fourteenpence i' the shillin' o' him. He's auld wecht; mind I tell +you." +</P> + +<P> +That's exactly my ain opinion, d'ye ken; an' it akinda astonished me to +hear Stumpie speakin' sense for ance in's life. He's uswally juist a +haverin' doit. +</P> + +<P> +But that's no' what I was genna tell you aboot. Sandy and Bandy +Wobster have had a terriple fortnicht's colligin' thegither. Every +ither nicht they've been ether i' the washin'-hoose or i' the garret; +an' Sandy's been gaen aboot scorin' a' the doors wi' kauk, an' makin' +rings an' lines like railroads an' so on a' ower them. +</P> + +<P> +"What's this you an' Bandy's up till noo?" I says to Sandy the ither +mornin', juist when we were sittin' at oor brakfast. "I howp noo, +Sandy," I says, says I, "that you'll keep clear o' the eediotikal +pliskies you played lest winter." +</P> + +<P> +"You can wadger your henmist bodle on that," says Sandy, as he took a +rive ooten a penny lafe. "There's to be ither kind o' wark on this +winter. Bandy an' me's been busy at the gomitry. Man, Bawbie, it's +raley very interestin'. You mind I spak to you aboot some o' the +triangles an' things that it tells you aboot afore?" +</P> + +<P> +"Weel, look here, Sandy," I says, "I notice you've been scorin' every +door aboot the place wi' your triangles, an' they're juist the very +shape o' the ane Ekky Hebbirn played in the flute band; an', as I +tolled you afore, I'm no' to hae ane o' them aboot the hoose. Preserve +me, man, you'll get as muckle music oot o' the taings, an' mair." +</P> + +<P> +"Keep on your dicky, 'oman," says Sandy. "You're clean aff the scent +a'thegither. There's nae music aboot gomitry triangles ava. They've +naething to do wi' music. They're for measurin' an' argeyin' oot +things till a conclusion. Flute bands! Sic a blether o' nonsense. I +maun lat you see the triangle book. We was haen a bit rin ower the +exyems again lest nicht juist. Noo, juist to gie you an idea, Bawbie! +You mind I tell'd you the exyem aboot things bein' equal to ane anither +when they're equal to some ither thing that's equal to the things that +are equal to ane anither?" +</P> + +<P> +"I mind aboot you haiverin' awa' some nonsense o' that kind," says I; +an', as fac's ocht, I cud hardly haud frae lauchin' at the droll look +on Sandy's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Weel," he gaed on, "that was the first exyem; the henmist is that the +whole is greater than its pairt. That means, d'ye see, for instance, +that my cairt's bigger gin the trams." +</P> + +<P> +"Hoo d'ye mak' that oot?" says I. "Michty me, man, if the trams were +nae bigger gin the cairt, hoo wud Donal' get in atween them? The +thing's ridic'lous." +</P> + +<P> +"You're no' seein't," says Sandy. "Tak' the back door o' the cairt, +for instance. The back door's only a bit o' the cairt, isn't? Weel, +than, shurely the cairt's bigger than the back door." +</P> + +<P> +"You're haiverin' perfeck buff," says I. "The back door's juist exakly +the same size as the cairt, or you wud never get it fessend on. Ony +bairn kens that, gomitry or no gomitry." +</P> + +<P> +"Bliss my hert, Bawbie," says Sandy, gettin' akinda peppery, "shurely +to peace a scone's bigger than a bit o' a scone." +</P> + +<P> +"There's nae doot aboot that," says I, "if the scone that you have a +bit o' is nae bigger gin the scone that's bigger gin the bit o' the +ither ane." +</P> + +<P> +"That's teen for grantit, of coorse," says Sandy. +</P> + +<P> +"But I dinna see hoo that mak's ony difference to the back door o' the +cairt," says I, I says. +</P> + +<P> +Sandy took a gey wild-like bite at his row, an gae twa-three o' his +chuck-chucks, an' then he says, "Man, Bawbie, you weemin fowk have nae +rizzenin' faculty. Naebody wi' ony logic wud need twa looks to see +brawly that onything's bigger than a bit o't, or, as the book says, +that the whole's greater than its pairt. That's self-evident. Tak' +the Toon Cooncil, say. It's shurely bigger than ony ane o' the +Cooncillers." +</P> + +<P> +"Is't na?" I brook in gey quick. "Juist you speer at Bailie +Thingymabob, an' you'll shune find oot whuther he thinks the Toon +Cooncil or him the biggest o' the twa." +</P> + +<P> +"Auch, Bawbie; you're no wirth argeyin' wi'," says Sandy. "You've aye +sic a desjeskit wey o' lookin' at things. What's the sense o' +bletherin' aboot Bailie Thingymabob? Preserve me! if he's only an +echteent pairt o' the Toon Cooncil, shurely common sense 'ill lat you +see that the Toon Cooncil's bigger than he is. Ony bit loonie in the +tower-penny cud see that in a blink." +</P> + +<P> +"Very weel," says I; "juist speer at Bailie Thingymabob himsel'. I'll +swag, if you tell him he's only an echteent pairt o' the Toon Cooncil, +he'll be dealin' wi' anither tattie man gin neist mornin'. Sandy, +loonikie, your exyems may do amon' your triangles an' sic like +fyke-facks an' kyowows, but they're a' blethers you see brawly ony +ither wey." +</P> + +<P> +What a raise Sandy got intil! He was that kankered that he took twa or +three ill-natured rives o' a shreed o' breed, an' a gullar o' tea, an' +fair stankit himsel'. It gaed doon the wrang road, an' Sandy was +nearhand chokit. +</P> + +<P> +"Sairs me richt for argey-bargeyin' wi' a doited cratur that canna see +a thing that's as plen's a pikestaff," he says, efter he had gotten his +nose blawn. Syne he cowshined doon a bittie, an' says, wi' a bit +snicker o' a lauch, "I maun hae you tried wi' the pond's ass anowerim." +</P> + +<P> +"An wha micht he be?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the fift proposition, Bawbie," says Sandy. "It's ca'ed the +pond's ass anowerim. That's Latin for the cuddy's brig. If you canna +get ower't, you're set down for an ass." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you been ower't, Sandy?" I says, says I. +</P> + +<P> +"No' yet," he says, never lattin' wink that he noticed the dab I had at +him; "but I'm beginnin' to see throo't, I think. Gin I had anither +glisk or twa at her I'll be on the richt side o' her, I'se wadger." +</P> + +<P> +Fient a glint o' sense cud I see in Sandy's palaver; so I says, says +I—"What is this fift proposition you're haiverin' aboot?" +</P> + +<P> +"Weel, it's juist this," says Sandy; an' he began to mak' a lot o' +fairlies wi' his finger amon' the floor aff the rows on the table. +"Look sae, there's what ye ca' a soshilist triangle. Weel, you see the +twa corners at the doon end o' her hare? They're juist the very +marrows o' ane anither; an' if you cairry the lines at the side o' them +here a bit farrer doon, an' get in ablo the boddam o' the triangle, +ye'll find that the corners aneth the boddam are juist the very marrows +o' ane anither too. D'ye see?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, Sandy," I says, says I, "you'll better awa' an get Donal' yokit. +I dinna ken what use thae soshilist triangles an' ither feelimageeries +like hen's taes are genna be to you, but I howp they'll no' be learnin' +ye to gie fowk jimp wecht, or it'll juist be the ruin o' your trade. +I've nae objections to you haein' a hobby; but shurely you cud get a +better ane gin a lot o' thae blethers o' Bandy Wobster's. Get ane o' +thae snap-traps, or whativer ye ca' them, for takin' photographs; get +on for the fire brigade or the lifeboat, join the Rifles or something. +There wud be some sense in the like o' that. But fykin' an' scutterin' +awa' amon' exyems, as you ca' them, an' triangles, an' a puckle things +like laddies' girds and draigons, that nae livin' sowl cud mak' ether +eechie or ochie o'——Feech! I wudna be dodled wi' them; juist a lot +o' laddie-paddie buff." +</P> + +<P> +Sandy jamp aff his seat an', rammin' on his hat, gaed bang throo the +shop, yatterin', "Auch, haud your gab; that claikin' tongue o' yours +mak's me fair mauchtless. I micht as weel argey wi' the brute beast i' +the swine-crue till I was black i' the face." An' oot at the door he +gaed, halin't to ahent him wi' a bang that garred the very sweetie +bottles rattle. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SANDY'S MAGIC LANTERN EXHIBITION. +</H3> + + +<P> +I was juist gaen oot at the back door on Wednesday nicht last week when +I hears some crackin' gaen on i' the washin'-hoose, an' I lookit in to +see wha was there. +</P> + +<P> +"Man, that's juist the very dollop," says Sandy, as I lifted the sneck. +</P> + +<P> +Dauvid Kenawee an' Bandy Wobster an' him were stravagin' roond aboot +the place wi' a fitrool an' a bawbee can'le, an' I saw immidintly that +there was something i' the wind. I was juist clearin' my throat to lat +them ken there was to be nae mair o' their conspiracies in my +washin'-hoose, when Dauvid slippit in his wird afore me. +</P> + +<P> +"Come awa, Bawbie," he saya, says he, in his uswal quiet wey. "We were +juist seein' aboot whuther we micht hae a bit magic lantern exhibition +here on Setarday nicht. I have a class at the Mission Sabbath Schule, +ye see, an' I was genna hae them at a cup o' tea on Setarday, an' I +thocht o' gien them a bit glisk o' the magic lantern. Robbie Boath, +the joiner, has a lantern he's genna gie's the len' o', an' Sandy here +thinks he can wirk the concern a' richt." +</P> + +<P> +"I've nae objection to onything o' that kind, whaur gude's genna be +done," says I. "But it's no' nane o' your electric oxey hydropathic +kind o' bisnesses, is't? I winna lippen Sandy wi' onything o' that +kind, for I tell ye——" +</P> + +<P> +"Dinna you bather yoursel, Bawbie," brook in Sandy. "This is a parafin +lantern; juist as easy wrocht as your washin' machine there." +</P> + +<P> +"Ay weel, Sandy," says I, "gin ye get on wi' your magic lantern as +weel's ye generally manish wi' the washin' machine, when I'm needin' a +hand o' ye, I'll swag Dauvid's bairns 'ill no' be lang keepit." +</P> + +<P> +"Tach, Bawbie, you're aye takin' fowk aff wi' your impidence," says +Sandy, gey ill-natured like. +</P> + +<P> +But Dauvid an' Bandy juist took a bit lauch at him. +</P> + +<P> +Weel, than, to mak' a lang story short, Setarday nicht cam', and the +magic lantern wi't. Dod, but Sandy had a gey efternune o't. He was +steerin' aboot, carryin' in soap boxes for seats to the bairns, an' +learnin' up his leed aboot the pictures, an' orderin' aboot Nathan; ye +never heard the like! I heard him yatterin' awa' till himsel' i' the +back shop, "The great battle o' Waterloo was fochen in echteen fifteen +atween the English an' the French, an' Bloocher landit on the scene +juist as Wellinton was gien the order—Tuts, ye stupid blockheid, +Nathan, that saft-soap barrel disna gae there—'Up gairds an' at +them.'" He gaed on like this for the feck o' the efternune, an' even +in the middle o' his tea, when I speered if it was het eneuch, he +lookit at me akinda ravelled like, and says, "Although ye was startin' +for that star the day you was born, stride-legs on a cannon ball, ye +wudna be there till ye was mair than ninety 'ear auld." +</P> + +<P> +"Wha's speakin' aboot stars?" says I; "I'm speerin' if your tea's het +eneuch?" +</P> + +<P> +"O, ay, yea, I daursay; it's a' richt," says Sandy. "I was mindin' +aboot Sirias, the nearest fixed star, ye ken. I winder what it's fixed +wi'?" +</P> + +<P> +Seven o'clock cam' roond, an' Dauvid's bairns gaed throo oor entry +like's they'd startit for Sandy's fixed star. They wudda gane through +the washin'-hoose door if it hadna happened to be open. I had +forgotten aboot them at the time; but, keep me, when they cam' oot o' +Dauvid's efter their tea, I floo to the door. I thocht it was somebody +run ower. +</P> + +<P> +Sandy had on his sirtoo an' his lum gin this time, an' he was gaen +about makin' a terriple noise, blawin' his nose in his Sabbath hankie, +an' lookin', haud your tongue, juist as big's bull beef. He gaed into +the washin'-hoose to cowshin the laddies, for they were makin' a +terriple din. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, boys an' loons—an' lassies, I mean," says Sandy, "there must be +total nae noise ava, or the magic lantern 'ill no wirk." +</P> + +<P> +"Hooreh! Time's up!" roared a' the laddies thegither; an' they +whistled, an' kickit wi' their feet till you wudda thocht they wud haen +my gude soap boxes ca'd a' to crockineeshin. +</P> + +<P> +Dauvid appeared to tak' the whole thing as a maitter o' coorse, an' +when I speered if this was juist their uswal, "Tuts ay," says he, "it's +juist the loons in the exoobrians o' their speerits, d'ye know, d'ye +see." +</P> + +<P> +Thinks I to mysel', thinks I, I wud tak' some o' that exoobrians oot o' +them, gin I had a fortnicht o' them. A Sabbath class! It was mair +like a half-timers' fitba' club. But, of coorse, it's no' ilka day +they see a magic lantern. +</P> + +<P> +Mistress Kenawee, an' Mistress Mollison an' her man, the Gairner, an' +the Smith, an' I cudna tell ye hoo mony mair, had gotten wind o't, an' +the washin'-hoose was as foo as cud cram. There was a terriple +atramush amon' the laddies when the can'le was blawn oot, an' syne +Sandy strak a spunk an' lichtit his lantern, an', efter a fell lot o' +fykin', he got her into order. +</P> + +<P> +Sandy gae a keckle o' a host, an' syne he says, "Now, boys an' girls +an' people, the first picture I'm genna show you is Danyil in the den +o' lions. There he is sae!" an' he shot in the picture. +</P> + +<P> +It was an awfu' queer-like picture. I cud nether mak' heid nor tail +o't. It was a' juist akinda greenichy-yallichy like, like's somebody +had skelt a pottal o' green-kail or something on the sheet whaur the +picture was. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm dootin' there's something wrang wi' the fokis," says Bandy Wobster. +</P> + +<P> +"Juist you look efter your ain fokis, Bandy," says Sandy, gey peppery +weys, "an' lat ither fowk's fokises aleen." +</P> + +<P> +"Are ye share you're richt wi' the picture?" Dauvid Kenawee speered. +</P> + +<P> +"There's naething wrang wi' the picture," says Sandy. "Ye see that +kind o' a broon bit doon at the fit there? That's ane o' Danyil's +feet." +</P> + +<P> +"Look the number o' the slide, Sandy," said Bandy, "an' mak' shure +you're richt. They're mibby oot o' order." +</P> + +<P> +"You're oot o' order," said Sandy, as angry as a wasp. "Haud that lum +hat, Bawbie!" he says; an' he oot wi' the picture, an' roars +oot—"Number 2217! Look up 2217, Nathan, i' the book there, an' see +what it says." +</P> + +<P> +Efter kirnin' aboot amon' the leaves o' his book for a meenit or twa, +Nathan got up his nose to the moo o' the lantern an' read oot—"A slice +o' a drunkard's liver." +</P> + +<P> +"What d'ye say?" says Sandy. "Lat's see't." +</P> + +<P> +"A slice o' a drunkard's liver," says Nathan again. +</P> + +<P> +Sandy grippit the book, an' efter a meenit, he says, "Ay, man; so +you're richt. There's been some mixin' amon' the pictures. This is a +slice or section o' a drunkard's liver," he continued, "showin' the +effeks o' alcohol." +</P> + +<P> +The laddies hurraed the drunkard's liver like onything, an' this gae +Sandy time to get his breath, an' to dicht the sweit aff his face. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the kind o' a liver ye'll get if you're drunkards," said Sandy. +"The action o' the alcohol dejinerates the tishie until the liver +becomes akwilly ransed, an' the neebriate becomes a total wreck." At +this the laddies an' lassies clappit their hands like a' that. +</P> + +<P> +"See that ye never get a drunkard's liver," said Sandy in a solemn +voice; an' ane o' Dauvid's laddies says, "By golly, I wudna like a +sowser o' a liver like that, onywey," an' set a' the rest a-lauchin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Attention!" shouted Dauvid till his class; an' Bandy Wobster—wha was +busy glowerin' at the drunkard's liver, an' windrin' what like his ain +was, nae doot—strak in, without kennin', wi' "Shoulder arms!" an' the +laddies roared an' leuch till you wud actually thocht they wudda +wranged themsel's. Gin they stoppit, Sandy had fa'in' in wi' Danyil, +an' there he was, glowerin' at's a', life-size, an' twenty lions +wirrin' a' roond aboot him. +</P> + +<P> +Sandy tell'd the story aboot Danyil, an' hoo he was flung in amon' the +lions for no' bein' a vegabon'; an' faigs, mind ye. Sandy got on +winderfu'. The laddies paid fine attention, an' ye cudda heard a preen +fa'in' when Sandy was speakin'. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no' nae lions' dens nooadays, ye see," say Sandy, to feenish +up wi'. "What is't they do wi' creeminals or notorious fowk noo?" +</P> + +<P> +"Pet them on for Toon Cooncillers," said ane o' the biggest o' Dauvid's +laddies; an' Bandy Wobster lut oot a great ballach o' a lauch, an' +roared at the pitch o' his voice—"Confoond it! Feech! I've swallowed +a bit tobacco!" +</P> + +<P> +Then there were pictures o' Joseph an' Moses, an' a great lot mair +Bible characters, the loons roarin' oot the names generally afore the +pictures were half in sicht. They were roid loons, an' nae mistak', +but I can tell ye they had the Bible at their finger nebs. Dauvid was +as prood's Loocifer aboot the laddies answerin' so smert; but Sandy +hardly liked it. +</P> + +<P> +They had a' the Bible stories as dare's dare cud be, an' whenever ony +picture appeared they had a' the story roared to ane anither afore +Sandy got his fokis putten into order. Bible knowledge is a grand +thing, nae doot; but the laddies fair took Sandy's job ower his heid; +an' he hardly liked it, as ye'll readily understan'. +</P> + +<P> +But the local characters gae Sandy a better chance, an', I ashure you, +he took full advantage o't. He gae a lang laberlethan aboot some o' +the pictures—keep me, if he'd carried on like yon at ilky picture, he +wudna been dune when the forenune bells wudda been ringin' for the kirk +next day. +</P> + +<P> +"I have noo some kapital pictures o' auld Arbroathians to show you," +said Sandy to the bairns "the reg'lar rale Reed Lichties. An' I howp +the laddies here 'ill tak' a lesson frae them, an' stick in an' get +their pictures in magic lanterns efter they're deid too, an' get great +big mossyleeums—that's thae great muckle sowsers o' gravesteens, juist +like mill stalks, ye ken—oot in the Warddykes Cemetery, wi' their +names chiseled on them in gold letters." +</P> + +<P> +The loons riffed an' clappit their hands at this like's they were a' +wishin' they were deid an' buried ablo a big gravesteen. +</P> + +<P> +Efter a lot o' palaver, Sandy shot in his first local picture. +</P> + +<P> +"This is Provost—— What was his name again? Be was wint to be a +great lad at—— Man, what's his name again, Bandy?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"I dinna ken, Sandy," said Bandy; "but it strik's me you have him into +the lantern upside doon. He's stanin' on his heid." +</P> + +<P> +"He was a gey upside-doon character, at ony rate," said the Smith. "He +was juist aboot as muckle use the tae wey as the tither." +</P> + +<P> +Sandy got his Provost putten richt; but some o' the rest o' his +notables were juist as pranky. They cam' in backside-foremost, +upside-doon, lying alang the floor—ye never saw the like—until Sandy +was near-hand at the swearin'. "Confoond thae Provosts and Bailies," +says he, "I never saw sic a set." +</P> + +<P> +"Ow, ow, Sandy," says I, "ye needna get angry at thae bodies; they're +a' deid." +</P> + +<P> +"Ay weel, we'll hae a whup at some o' the livin' anes," says Sandy. +"Gie me up some o' thae slides in the green box," he cries to Nathan. +"Whaur hae ye putten the Provosts an' the Bailies?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have them a' in my breeks' pooch," says Nathan. "They're a' richt." +</P> + +<P> +"An' whaur's the drunkard's liver?" +</P> + +<P> +"O, I laid it on the boiler-heid, alang wi' Danyil an' some mair." +</P> + +<P> +"See an' no' be mixin' them than," said Sandy, shovin' in another +slide. "This, as you'll easily recognise, is Bailie Thingymabob." +</P> + +<P> +The laddies gae the Bailie a roond o' applause, an' Bandy Wobster says, +"Man, but he's awfu' indistink, Sandy. Ye can hardly mak' him oot." +</P> + +<P> +"That's no' to be windered at," says Sandy. "I never fell in wi' +onybody that cud mak' him oot. Ye canna expeck a magic lantern to do +what ye canna do yersel'. It'll be a bad job for the Bailie, I can +tell you, when fowk begin to mak' him oot. The next picture is +Cooncillor Spinaway." +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, I'll go doon the yaird an' hae a reek," says Bandy, gettin up frae +his seat, an' settin' a' the loons a-lauchin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye needna gae awa' i' the noo," says Dauvid. "Wait till you see the +rest o' the pictures." +</P> + +<P> +"Dinna mistak' yersel'," says Bandy in laich, "when that cove's gotten +on his feet he'll no' sit doon for half an 'oor. I never saw him get +up yet but he gae a'body mair than their sairin' o' sooage, an' +main-drains, an' gas-warks, an' so on afore he feenisht. Wait till you +see." +</P> + +<P> +"Haud your haiverin' tongue," said Sandy. "Bliss your heart, he's in +the magic lantern. He canna speak there." +</P> + +<P> +"I daursay you're richt," says Bandy, clawin' his heid. "Weel, the +Provost shud juist keep a magic lantern handy, an' gar him bide in't. +That wud keep him quiet at the meetin's." +</P> + +<P> +"We'll lat ye see a picture o' the whole Toon Cooncil, noo," said +Sandy; an' in cam' the picture. "There's been some mair mixin' again," +said Sandy, gey kankered like. "That's shurely no' the Toon Cooncil. +What's number echteen, Nathan?" +</P> + +<P> +"The pleg o' locusts in Egypt," says Nathan. +</P> + +<P> +"Hoo's that gotten in there, ava?" says Sandy. +</P> + +<P> +"O, they'd juist putten't amon' the ither plegs," brook in Bandy +Wobster. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's a very interestin' slide," says Sandy, as he put in the next +picture. "This is a picture o' the deputation that waited on some o' +the members o' the Toon Cooncil at lest election an' priggit wi' them +to bide in, altho' they were awfu' anxious to hae dune wi't." +</P> + +<P> +"That's like a picture o' a bunghole withoot a barrel roond it," said +ane o' Dauvid's laddies. +</P> + +<P> +"There's naebody there, Sandy," said Bandy Wobster. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, but that's the deputation tho'," said Sandy. "They're mibby +inveesible, but that's them for a' that. The name's on the picture. +You can look yersel', if you dinna believe me." +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, Pepper's Ghost!" roars oot the Smith. "He waits on lots o' fowk +aboot election times. He's juist a perfeck scunner, nominatin' fowk +against their will, an' draggin' them into publicity when they wud far +raither be kickin' up some ither kind o' a row." +</P> + +<P> +He's an awfu' haiverin' body the Smith sometimes. When he's sensible, +he's juist akinda ridic'lously sensible; an' when he's' no', he's juist +as far the ither wey. +</P> + +<P> +"Deputations is aye anonimous," says Sandy. "They aye turn up wi' a +nomdy plum. It's juist the men's modesty that keeps them oot o' sicht. +They pey a' their veesits throo the nicht, an' fient a cratur kens +eechie or ochie aboot them. Man, I like modesty. I've a great respeck +for a deputation that keeps oot o' sicht." +</P> + +<P> +"C'wa wi' some mair pictures," roared some o' the laddies, an' Sandy's +grand perrygrinashin ended a' o' a sudden. +</P> + +<P> +"The next picture is a very interestin' ane," said Sandy, efter he'd +gotten a breath. "This is ane o' the famous meal mobs. You see the +crood o' men, sae, they're a' roarin' thegither. There's neen o' you +loons 'ill mind o' the meal mobs," said Sandy, "but I mind o' them +fine. A gey toon it was i' thae days. You'll notice the auld +Toon-Clark i' the middle there, wi' his hands up, threatenin' to send +for the pileece, an' a' the crood yalpin' at him like as mony dogs. I +can tell you loons, ye may thank your stars that you wasna born when +wey-o'-doin's like that was carried on i' the toon. You dinna ken +naethin' aboot it. There's been naethin' like it i' the toon o' +Arbroath sin'——" +</P> + +<P> +"Hold on, Sandy," roared Nathan; "that's the wrang picture you have in +again; here's the meal mob here. Look an' see what's on that ane." +</P> + +<P> +"A Presbitree Meetin'!" read oot Sandy; an' you wudda thocht the Smith +an' Bandy Wobster were genna ding doon the hoose wi' their noise an' +roarin' an' lauchin'. +</P> + +<P> +"I thocht they were gey black-lookin' gentry for a meal mob," says the +Smith; an' Bandy nodded his heid an' leuch, an' says, "Man, Sandy's a +perfeck genius as fac's ocht, I hinna heard onything like him." +</P> + +<P> +I hinna time to tell you aboot a' the rest o' the exhibition. It was a +treat in mair weys than ane. Sandy lut's see a lot o' notables like +Mester Gladstone, an' Blind Hewie, an' Steeple Jeck, an' the Prince o' +Wales, an' Burke an' Hair, an' the Jook o' Argile, an' Dykin Elshinder. +But the crooner o' them a' cam' when Sandy says—"Noo, here's +Snakimupo, the famous king o' the Cannibal Islands, an' his favourite +squaw, that eats missionaries, an' Bibles, an' poopits whenever they +can get a haud o' them"—an' in he shot—wha d'ye think? Juist Sandy +an' me oorsels, life-size—ay, an' bigger! +</P> + +<P> +"O, golly midgins!" says ane o' Dauvid's lassies, wi' her hands up, an' +her moo an' her een wide open. +</P> + +<P> +You never heard sic a riffin' as there was, the laddies a' roarin' "The +King o' the Cannibal Islands," an' Sandy wirrin' like a perfeck terrier. +</P> + +<P> +"That's some o' Robbie Boath's wark," he says in laich till himsel', +wi' an awfu' girn on his face. "He gae me that picture special, an +tell'd me the name o't, an' said to feenish wi't. But gin he disna get +a stane o' diseased pitatties frae me the morn that'll mak' him onweel +for a i'ortnicht, my name's no Si Bowden." Syne he added heich oot, +"Noo, loons and lassockies, that's a'. It's aboot time you was +toddlin' awa' hame noo; an' I howp you've a' enjoyed it." +</P> + +<P> +Dauvid proposed a vote o' thanks to Sandy; an' you wudda thocht a' the +steam-engines atween this an' Glesca had gotten into oor washin'-hoose, +wi' their whistles on full-cock. The noise was something terriple. I +had to pet my fingers in my lugs, an' rin. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VIII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SANDY AND THE RHUBARB TART. +</H3> + + +<P> +Was ever a woman so provokit wi' a ramstam, dotrifeed gomeral o' a man? +Sandy Bowden 'ill hae me i' my grave yet afore my time, as share's I'm +a livin' woman. There's no' a closed e'e for me this nicht; an' +there's Sandy awa' till his bed wi' his airms rowed up in bits o' an +auld yellow-cotton apron o' Mistress Mikaver's mither's. Eh, sirce me; +an' me was so happy no' mony 'oors syne! +</P> + +<P> +We gaed awa' to hae a cup o' tea wi' Mistress Mikaver—that's the +scone-baker's widow, ye ken. Her auldest laddie's been awa' oot amon' +the Reed Indians, or some o' thae ither lang-haired, naked fowk 'at +never wash themsel's; an' they say he's made a heap o' bawbees. He's a +snod bit stockie—a little beld, an' bowd-leggit, an' wants a thoom. +But, I'll swag, the young kimmers that were at the pairty didna see +muckle wrang wi' him. There was as keen competition for him amon' the +lassies as gin he'd been a gude-gaen public-hoose puttin' up for +unction. +</P> + +<P> +Me an' Sandy landed amon' the first o' the fowk. A'thing was richt +snod, I assure ye. Mistress Mikaver had the stair noo whitened, an' +every stap was kaumed an' sandit, ye never saw the like. An' there she +was hersel' wi' her best black goon on, no' a smad to be seen on't, an' +her lace kep an' beady apron. She was a dandy, an' nae mistak'. +</P> + +<P> +Afore Sandy got up the stair he manished to mairter the feck o' his +Sabbath claes wi' the whitenin'; an' I was akinda feard Mistress +Mikaver micht mistak' him for the scone-baker's ghost. But we got him +made gey snod, an' syne we gaed inby to the ben-hoose fireside, an' had +a crack wi' young Aleck. That's the son's name. Sandy an' him got +started aboot mustaings, an' Indeens, an' boomirangs, an' scoots an' +ither scoondrils, till I cudna be deaved ony langer wi' their forrin +blethers; so ben to but-the-hoose I gaed to hae a twa-handit crack wi' +Aleck's mither. +</P> + +<P> +When I opened the door, here's as mony lassies as wudda startit a noo +mill. They'd been a' deckin' themsel's but-the-hoose afore they cam' +ben to see Aleck, d'ye see? He made himsel' rale frank, an' speer'd +for a' their mithers, an' a'thing; an' then we got roond the ben-hoose +table, an' had a fine game at the totum for cracknets. +</P> + +<P> +Sandy juist got gey pranky, as uswal, afore he was lang startit. He's +aye the same when he gets amon' young lassies, the auld ass 'at he is. +</P> + +<P> +"T tak's them a' but ane," he roared in the middle o' the game; an' he +grippit up a nivfu' o' the crack-nets, an' into his moo wi' them. His +een gaed up intil his heid, an' gin I hadna gien him a daud i' the +back, that garred the nets flee oot o' his moo a' ower tha table, he'd +been a chokit korp in a meenit or twa, juist as shure's the morn's +Setarday. +</P> + +<P> +But little did I think what was afore's! Gin I'd kenned, I'd latten +him chok, the mairterin' footer 'at he is. +</P> + +<P> +We a' gaed awa' doon the yaird aboot half-past seven, to see a noo +henhouse 'at Aleck had been tarrin' that efternune. He maun be a handy +earl, mind ye. +</P> + +<P> +"Tak' care o' your frocks, for that tar's weet yet," says Aleck to the +lassies. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, man, so it is," says Sandy, takin' a slaik o't aff wi' his +fingers, an' syne dichtin't on the tail o' his sirtoo, the nesty +character, 'at I shud say sic a wird! +</P> + +<P> +"Man, Aleck," says Sandy, when we were a' on the green juist takin' a +look roond aboot's, "it looks juist like the streen that you sat up 'on +that very tree there, an' pappit Gairner Winton wi' oslins that you'd +stealt ooten his ain gairden. I mind I was here when he cam' doon to +tell your father aboot your ongaens. You was a wild tyke o' a laddie, +I can tell ye. Your father gae you an awfu' paikin'; but fient a hair +did you care. He wasna weel dune tannin' you when you was roarin' +'Hairy Grozers'—that was a by-name o' the Gairner's—in at Winton's +shop door. You was a roid loon." +</P> + +<P> +Aleck took a richt herty lauch at Sandy's blethers, an' the twa o' them +were juist thick an' three-faud afore they were half-an-'oor thegither. +Yet wudda thocht they'd kent ane anither sin' ever they were doakit. +</P> + +<P> +Gin we cam' back, Aleck's mither had a fine supper a' ready on the +table. She had a can'le here an' there, an' pucklies o' chuckinwirth +an' persly scattered roond the rob-roys. It was awfu' nice. It would +raley garred ye think ye was amon' braw fowk. I was juist sittin' +admirin't when Aleck says, "Ay, then, are ye a' ready?" +</P> + +<P> +We had to hover a blink till Mistress Mikaver ran ben the hoose for a +knife to Mey Mershell. +</P> + +<P> +"Mester Bowden 'ill say the grace noo," says Aleck; an' Sandy was on +his feet like the shot o' a gun, hostin' to clear his throat. I +dreedit he wud mak' a gutter o't somewey or ither, an' so I keepit my +een open. Sandy shut his, an' so did a' the rest. He leaned forrit +an' spread oot the muckle clunkers o' hands o' him on the tap o' the +peat o' a big roobarb tert. "O Lord," was a' the len'th he'd gotten, +when in he gaed, up near to the elbas amon' the het roobarb; an' by a' +the skoilin' an' roarin' ever I heard, there never was the like! A gey +grace it was, I can tell ye! It'll no' be the morn nor next day 'at +I'll forget it. He roared an' yowled like I kenna what, an' +black-gairded reed-het roobarb terts, till I thocht he wudda opened the +very earth. +</P> + +<P> +"O, haud your tongue, Sandy Bowden!" I cried, my very heid like to rive +wi' his yalpin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Haud my tongue?" says he. "Hoo can I haud my tongue, an' my airms +stewin' amon' boilin' jeelie?" +</P> + +<P> +Juist at this meenit Aleck aff wi' Sandy's coat syne he but the hoose +wi' him an' garred him shove his airms ower the heid in his mither's +floor pock. It deidened the pain in a wink, an' efter a whilie we got +the airms rowed up. I cudna gae ben to bid the ither fowk guid-nicht, +my hert was that sair; an' Sandy was hingin' his heid like a sick dog. +Puir man, he has mibby mair than me to thole; but I wudda gien a +five-pound note 'at I hadna left my ain hoose this nicht. I'll awa' to +my bed, for my hert's perfeckly i' my moo. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IX. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE GREAT STORM OF NOVEMBER, 1893. +</H3> + + +<P> +Eh, sirce me, what a nicht we had on Setarday mornin'! O, haud your +tongue! Though I should live lang eneuch to bury Sandy Bowden, an' hae +a golden weddin' wi' my second man, I'll never forget it. It mak's me +shaky-trimilly yet to think aboot it. Sandy's gaen aboot wi' a' the +hair cut aff the back o' his heid, an' fower or five strips o' stickin' +plester battered across his scawp. He got an awfu' mishap, puir man. +I thocht his heid was a' to smash, but, fortunately, it turned oot +fully harder than the biscuit tin it cam' into contact wi'. +</P> + +<P> +It would be aboot ane o'clock or thereaboot when Sandy gae me a daud +wi' his elba that garred me a' jump. I had an awfu' busy day on +Friday; an' I was sleepin' as soond's a tap. +</P> + +<P> +"'Oman," says he, "there's something fearfu' gaen on doon the yaird +somewey. Wud that be the Dyed Wallop an' her man fechtin', or what i' +the world's earth can it be? Harken, Bawbie! Did you ever hear sic +yawlin'?" +</P> + +<P> +"Bliss me, Sandy man," says I, "that's the wind soochin' throo the +trees in the banker's gairden, an' fizzin' in amon' the pipes o' the +water barrels. It's shurely an awfu' nicht o' wind." +</P> + +<P> +Juist at this meenit you wudda thocht the very deevil himsel' had +gotten grips o' the frame o' oor winda. He garred it rattle like the +thunder at Hewy White's theatre; then he yawled, an' hooed, an' growled +like five hunder cats an' as mony dogs wirryin' them, an' a' the fowk +'at echt them fechtin' at the same time. This feenisht up wi' a +terrific yawl; an' Sandy dived doon in ablo the claes. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye fear'd nowt," says I, "what are ye fleein' awa' doon there for? +Ye'll hae my feet sterved to death wi' cauld. Lie up on your pillow +an' lat the claes doon to the fit o' the bed." +</P> + +<P> +For a hale strucken 'oor this gaed on, an' sometimes I akwilly thocht I +fand the bed shakin'. Oor birdie (he hings at the winda) began to +wheek-wheek wi' fear, an I wanted Sandy to rise an' tak' the puir +cratur doon. +</P> + +<P> +"The feint a-fear o' me," says he, the hertless skemp 'at he is. "If +you want the canary i' the bed aside you, you can rise an' tak' him +doon yersel'." +</P> + +<P> +I raise an' took the puir craturie doon, an' hang him up on the ither +side o' the room; an,' mind ye, ye wud raley thocht the bit beastie +kent, for it gae a coodie bit cheep or twa, an juist cooered doon to +sleep again. Juist as I was gaen awa' to screw doon the gas, it gae +twa or three lowps, an' oot it gaed; an' afore I kent whaur I was, +there was a reeshilin' an' rummelin' on the ruif that wudda nearhand +fleggit the very fowk i' the kirkyaird. I floo to my bed, an' in aneth +the claes, an' lay for a meenit or so expectin' the cuples wud be doon +on the tap o's, an' bruze baith o's to pooder. Efter the rummelin' +haltit, I fand aboot wi' my fit for Sandy; but he wasna there. +</P> + +<P> +"Preserve's a'," says I, heich oot, "whaur are ye, Sandy? Are ye +there? What's come ower ye? Are ye deid?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm here, Bawbie," says a shiverin' voice in aneth the bed. "I'm +here, Bawbie. Ye'll hear Gabriel's tuter juist i' the noo. O, Bawbie, +I've been a nesty footer o' a man, an' ill-gettit scoot a' my days. I +wiss I cud juist get hauds o' the Bible on the drawers-heid, Bawbie. +Did ye hear the mountins an' the rocks beginnin' to fa'?" +</P> + +<P> +"Come awa' 'oot ablo there, Sandy," I says, says I, "an' no' get your +death o' cauld, an' be gaen aboot deavin fowk wi' you an' your reums. +The mountins an' rocks is the brick an' lum-cans aff Mistress +Mollison's hoose, I'm thinkin'." An' I cudna help addin'—"It's ower +late to be thinkin' aboot startin' to the Bible efter Gabriel's begun +to blaw his tuter, Sandy. Come awa' to your bed!" +</P> + +<P> +Sandy got himsel' squeezed up atween the bed an' the wa'; an' at ilky +hooch an whirr 'at the wind gae he wheenged an' groaned like's he was +terriple ill wi' his inside; an' aye he was sayin', "I've been a lazy +gaen-aboot vegabon', an' ill-hertit vague. O dear, Bawbie, what'll we +do?" +</P> + +<P> +I cam' to mysel' efter a whilie, an' raise an' tried the gas, an' it +lichtit a' richt. The wind was tearin' an' rivin' at the ruif at this +time something terriple. "We'll go doon the stair, Sandy," says I; an' +I made for the door. +</P> + +<P> +"For ony sake, Bawbie," roared Sandy oot o' the bed, "wait till I get +on my breeks. If ye lave me, I'll g'wa' in a fit—as shore's ocht." +</P> + +<P> +We got doon the stair an' I lichtit the fire an' got the kettle to the +boil, an' we sat an' harkined to the wind skreechin' doon the lum, an' +groanin' an' wailin' amon' the trees ower the road, an' soochin' roond +aboot the washin'-hoose. I raley never heard the marrow o't. The +nicht o' the fa'a'in' o' the Tay Brig was but the blawin' oot o' a +can'le aside it. I' the middle o' an awfu' sooch there was a fearfu' +reeshil at oor door, an' Sandy fair jamp aff his chair wi' the start. +</P> + +<P> +"A'ye in, Sandy?" cried Dauvid Kenawee, in a nervish kind o' a voice. +</P> + +<P> +I awa' an' opened the door, an' here was Dauvid an' Mistress +Kenawee—Dauvid wi' his pints wallopin' amon' his feet, an' his weyscot +lowse, an' Mistress Kenawee juist wi' her short-goon an' a shallie on. +</P> + +<P> +"This is shurely the end o' the world comin'," said Mistress Kenawee, +near greetin'. "O dear me, I think something's genna come ower me." +</P> + +<P> +"Tuts 'oman, sit doon," says Dauvid, altho' he was in a fell state +aboot her. I cud see that brawly. +</P> + +<P> +The sicht o' the puir wafilly budy akinda drave the fear awa frae me; +an' I maskit a cup o' tea, an' crackit awa till her till we got her +cowshined doon. Their back winda had been blawn in, and Dauvid had +tried to keep oot the wind wi' a mattress; but the wind had tummeled +baith Dauvid an' the mattress heels ower gowrie, an' the wife got intil +a terriple state. They cudna bide i' the hoose ony langer, an' i' the +warst o't a', they cam' awa through a shoer o' sklates, an' bricks, an' +lum-cans, an' gless, to see if we wud lat them in. +</P> + +<P> +I garred Sandy pet on a bit ham, and drew anower the table, and tried +to keep them frae thinkin' aboot it; but at ilka whizz an' growl the +wind gae, baith Sandy an' Mistress Kenawee startit an' took a lang +breath. +</P> + +<P> +I'm shure we hadna abune a moofu' o' tea drucken, an' Sandy was juist +awa' to tak' aff' the ham, when the fryin' pan was knockit ooten his +hand, an' doon the lum cam' a pozel o' bricks an' shute that wudda +filled a cairt. Sandy fell back ower an' knockit Mistress Kenawee +richt i' the flure. The ham dip gaed up the lum in a gloze, an' here +was Sandy an' Dauvid's wife lyin' i' the middle o' a' the mairter o' +rubbitch. Mistress Kenawee's face, puir thing, was as white as a +cloot; but Sandy's was as black as the man More o' Vennis, the bleckie +that smored his wife i' the theatre for carryin' on wi' a sodger. +</P> + +<P> +What a job Dauvid an' me had gettin' them roond. We poored a drappie +brandie doon baith their throats; an' Sandy opened his een an' says, +"Ay; I've been an awfu' blackgaird; I have that!" He had come doon wi' +the back o' his heid on a biscuit tin fu' o' peyse meal, an' had +smashed the tin an' sent the meal fleein' a' ower the hoose. But the +cratur had gotten an awfu' tnap on the back o' the heid, an' he was +bluidin' gey sair. Gin daylicht brook, Dauvid an' me had gotten the +twa o' them akinda into order, and Sandy was able to open the shop. He +had an awfu' ruggin' an' tuggin' afore he cud get the door to open; an' +he cam' into me an' says, "Dod, Bawbie, I think the hoose has gotten a +terriple thraw. The shop door 'ill nether go back nor forrit!" +</P> + +<P> +I gaed oot to see what was ado. Eh, sirce, if you had only seen oor +street! The beach ootby at the Saut Pan, whaur there's a free coup for +rubbitch, was naething till't! It juist mindit me o' the picture, in +oor big Bible, o' Jerusalem when the fowk cam' back frae Babylon +till't—it was juist a' lyin' a cairn o' lowse steens an' half bricks. +</P> + +<P> +There's neen o's 'ill forget Friday nicht in a hurry, or I'm muckle +misteen. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +X. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SANDY AND HIS FAIRNTICKLES. +</H3> + + +<P> +There's twa things Sandy Bowden's haen sin' ever I got acquant wi' +him—an' that's no' the day nor yesterday—that's fairntickles an' +cheepin' buits. I never kent Sandy bein' withoot a pair o' +'lastic-sided buits that gaed squakin' to the kirk like twa croakin' +hens. I've seen the fowk sometimes turn roond-aboot in their seats, +when Sandy cam' creakin' up the passage, as gin they thocht it was a +brass-band comin' in. But Sandy appears to think there's something +reverint an' Sabbath-like in cheepin' buits, an' he sticks to them, +rissen be't or neen. I can tell ye, it's a blissin' there's no' mony +mair like him, or we'd hae gey streets on Sabbath. The noise the +maitter o' twenty chields like Sandy cud mak' wi' their buit soles wud +fair deave a hale neeperhude. +</P> + +<P> +Hooever, it wasna Sandy's buits I was to tell you aboot; it was my +nain. But afore I say onything aboot them, I maun tell you aboot the +fairntickles. As I was sayin', Sandy's terriple fairntickled aboot the +neck an' the sides o' the nose, an' oor lest holiday made him a hankie +waur than uswal. He's a gey prood mannie too, mind ye, although he +winna haud wi't. But I can tell you it's no a bawbee-wirth o' hair oil +that sairs Sandy i' the week. But that's nether here nor there. +</P> + +<P> +Weel, Sandy had been speakin' aboot his fairntickles to Saunders Robb. +Saunders, in my opinion, is juist a haiverin' auld ass. He's a +hoddel-dochlin', hungert-lookin' wisgan o' a cratur; an', I'm shure, he +has a mind to match his body. There's naethin' he disna ken +aboot—an', the fac' is, he kens naething. He's aye i' the wey o' +improvin' ither fowk's wark. There's naethin' Saunders disna think he +could improve, excep' himsel' mibby. I canna be bathered wi' the +chatterin', fykie, kyowowin' little wratch. He's aye throwin' oot +suggestions an' hints aboot this and that. He's naething but a +suggestion himsel', an' I'm shure I cud of'en throw him oot, wi' richt +gude will. +</P> + +<P> +Weel, he'd gien Sandy some cure for his fairntickles, an' Sandy, +unbekent to me, had gotten something frae the druggie an' mixed it up +wi' a guid three-bawbee's-wirth o' cream that I had in the upstairs +press. He had rubbit it on his face an' neck afore he gaed till his +bed; but he wasna an 'oor beddit when he had to rise. An' sik a sicht +as he was! His face an' neck were as yellow's mairyguilds, an' +yallower; an' though I've taen washin' soda, an' pooder, an' the very +scrubbin' brush till't, Sandy's gaen aboot yet juist like's he was noo +oot o' the yallow fivver an' the jaundice thegither. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye'll better speer at Saunders what'll tak' it aff," says I till him +the ither mornin'. +</P> + +<P> +"If I had a grip o' Saunders, I'll tak' mair than the fairntickles aff +him," says he; an' faigs, mind you, there's nae sayin' but he may do't; +he's a spunky carlie Sandy, when he's raised. +</P> + +<P> +But, as far as that's concerned, I'm no' sorry at it, for it'll keep +the cratur awa' frae the place. Sin' Sandy put that sofa into the +washin'-hoose, him an' twa-three mair's never lain oot o't. Lyin' +smokin' an' spittin' an' crackin' aboot life bein' a trauchle, an' so +on! I tell you, if it had lested muckle langer, I'd gien them a bucket +o' water sweesh aboot their lugs some day; that's juist as fac's ocht. +</P> + +<P> +But I maun tell you aboot my mischanter wi' my noo buits. I'm sure it +has fair delighted Sandy. He thinks he's gotten a hair i' my neck noo +that'll haud him gaen a while. He was needin't, I can tell you. If +ilky mairter he's made had been a hair in his neck, I'll swag, there +wudna been room for mony fairntickles. +</P> + +<P> +Weel, I gaed awa' to the kirk lest Sabbath—Sandy, of coorse, cudna get +oot wi' his yallow face an' neck. He had a bran poultice on't to see +if it wud do ony guid. I canna do wi' noo buits ava, till I've worn +them a while. I pet them on mibby to rin an errand or twa, till they +get the set o' my fit, an' syne I can manish them to the kirk. But I +canna sit wi' noo buits; they're that uneasy. I got a noo pair lest +Fursday, an' tried them on on Sabbath mornin'. But na, na! Altho' my +auld anes were gey binkit, an' worn doon at the heels, I juist put them +on gey hurried, an' aff I set to the kirk, leavin' Sandy to look efter +the denner. +</P> + +<P> +I was feelin' akinda queerish when I startit; but I thocht it was juist +the hurry, an' that a breath o' the caller air wud mak' me a' richt. +But faigs, mind ye, instead o' better I grew waur. My legs were like +to double up aneth me, an' my knees knokit up acrain' ane anither +like's they'd haen a pley aboot something. I fand a sweit brakin' oot +a' ower me, an' I had to stop on the brae an' grip the railin's, or, +it's juist as fac's ocht, I wudda been doon i' the road on the braid o' +my back. I thocht I was in for a roraborialis, or some o' thae +terriple diseases. Eh, I was feard I wud dee on the open street; I was +that! Mysie Meldrum noticed me, an' she cam' rinnin' to speer what was +ado. +</P> + +<P> +"I've taen an awfu' dwam, Mysie," says I. "I think I'm genna dee. Ye +micht juist sit doon on the railin's aside's till the fowk be by." +</P> + +<P> +"I think we're aboot the henmost, Bawbie," says she. "We're gey late; +but I'll bide aside you, lassie." +</P> + +<P> +We sat for the maitter o' ten meenits, an' I got akinda roond, an' +thocht I wud try an' get hame. Mistress Kenawee had putten on her +tatties an' come oot for a dander a bittie, an' noticed the twa o's; so +she cam' up, an' I got her airm an' Mysie's, an', though it was a gey +job, we manished to get hame. An' gled I was when I saw Sandy's yallow +nose again, I can tell ye, for I was shure syne I wud dee at hame amon' +my nain bed-claes. +</P> + +<P> +"The Lord preserve's a'!" says Mysie when she saw Sandy. "What i' the +name o' peace has come ower you? I'll need to go! I've Leeb's bairns +at hame, you see, an' this is the collery or the renderpest or +something come ower you twa, an' I'm feard o' smittin' the bairns, or I +wudda bidden. As shure's I live, I'll need to go!" an' she vanisht oot +at the door wi' a face as white's kauk. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I'll rin for the doctor, Bawbie," said Mistress Konawee. She +kent aboot Sandy's fairntickles afore, of coorse, an' Sandy's yallow +fizog didna pet her aboot. +</P> + +<P> +"Juist hover a blink," says I, "till I see if I come to mysel'." +</P> + +<P> +I sat doon in the easy-chair, an' Sandy was in a terriple wey aboot me. +He cudna speak a wird, but juist keepit sayin', "O dinna dee, Bawbie, +dinna dee; your denner's ready!" He lookit me up an' doon, an' then +booin' doon till he was for a' the world juist like a half-steekit +knife he roars oot, "What's ado wi' your feet, Bawbie? Look at them! +Your taes are turned oot juist like the hands o' the tnock, at twenty +meenits past echt. You're shurely no genna tak' a parrylattick stroke." +</P> + +<P> +I lookit doon, an' shure eneuch my taes were turned oot an' curled +roond like's they were gaen awa' back ahent my heels. Mistress Kenawee +got doon on her knees aside me. +</P> + +<P> +"Preserve's a', Bawbie," says she; "you have your buits on the wrang +feet! Nae winder than your knees were knokin' thegither wi' thae auld +worn-doon heels turned inside, an' your taes turned oot." +</P> + +<P> +But I'll better no' say nae mair aboot it. I was that angry; and +Mistress Kenawee, the bissam, was like to tnet hersel' lauchin'; but; I +ashure ye, I never got sik a fleg in my life—an' sik simple dune too, +mind ye. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XI. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SANDY STANDS "EMPIRE" AT A CRICKET MATCH. +</H3> + + +<P> +I was sittin' on Friday nicht, readin' awa' at some bits o' the +<I>Herald</I> I didna get at on Fursday, when the shop door gaed clash back +to the wa', an' in hammered fower or five bits o' loons a' at the heels +o' ane anither. When they saw me, they stood stock still, dichtin' +their noses wi' their jeckit sleeves, an' glowerin' like as mony +fleggit sheep. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on, Jock," says ane o' them, gien anither ane a shuve forrit. +"You're the captain; speak you." +</P> + +<P> +Jock gae a host, an' syne layin' his hand—a gey clorty ane it was—on +the coonter, an' stanin' on ae fit, he says—"Isyin?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wha micht he be?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Sandy," said the captain. +</P> + +<P> +"What Sandy?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"No," said ane o' the birkies ahent; "your Sandy—Sandy Bowden." +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, he's in," says I; "but you shud mind an' gie fowk their richt +names when ye're seeking them. Ye micht hae smeddum enough to say +Mester Bowden, or Alexander Bowden. Your teacher michta tell't ye +that." +</P> + +<P> +I gaed awa' doon the yaird to get Sandy, an' juist as I was gaen oot at +the back door I heard ane o' the sackets sayin', "What's she chatterin' +aboot? She ca's him Sandy hersel'; I've heard her of'en." Did ever ye +hear what impident young fowk's gettin' noo-a-days? It's raley +terriple. When I was young, if I'd sen the like o' that, I'd gotten a +smack i' the side o' the heid that wudda garred the wa' tak's anither. +</P> + +<P> +"Oo, ay," says Sandy, when I tell't him. "That'll be the lads frae the +Callyfloor C.C. They said they were mibby genna look yont the nicht." +</P> + +<P> +He cam' up an' took the loons to the back shop, an' I heard them sayin' +they wantit him to be empire at their match wi' the second eleven o' +the Collie Park. There was a fell kurn fowk cam' into the shop, an' I +didna hear nae mair; but efter a whilie Sandy cam' to the door wi' the +laddies, an', gien his hand a wave, he says to them, as they were gaen +awa, "A' richt than; three sharp; I'll do my best." +</P> + +<P> +"What's this noo?" says I. "Nae mair o' yer fitba' pliskies, I howp." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh no," says Sandy. "That's a deputation frae the Callyfloor C.C. I +gae them a tume orange box a week or twa syne to haud their bats an' +wickets, an' they made me their pattern." +</P> + +<P> +"A gey queer pattern," says I, wi' a lauch. "Faigs, Sandy, if they +shape themselves efter your pattern, their mithers an' wives—if ever +they get that len'th—'ill lose a hankie o' sleep wi' them, I'm +thinkin'." +</P> + +<P> +"Auch, Bawbie, ye're juist haverin' like some auld aipplewife," says +Sandy. "That's no' the kind o' pattern I mean;" an' awa' he gaed for +the <I>Herald</I> an' turned up a bit noos I never noticed, sayin' that +"Alexander Bowden, Esq., had been elected patron of the Cauliflower +C.C., and had contributed handsomely to the funds of the club." +</P> + +<P> +"Oo ay! I see," says I. "An' what did you handsomely gie to the funds +o' the club?" +</P> + +<P> +"O, that's juist the orange box," says Sandy. "But they want me for +empire the morn's efternune. They're genna play the second eleven o' +the Collie Park C.C. a match at bat an' wickets on the Wast Common. +It'll be a rare affair. Ye micht get Mistress Kenawee to look efter +the shop for an 'oor or twa, an' come ootbye, Bawbie." +</P> + +<P> +Ay, weel, to mak' a lang story short, Sandy an' me got ootbye to the +Wast Common on Setarday efternune; an' awa we gaed up to a corner o' +the Common whaur there was aboot a hunder loons gaithered. The loonie +that they ca'd the captain cam' forrit. He was berfit, an' had his +jecket an' weyscot aff, an' his gallaces lowsed i' the front an' tied +roond his weyst. +</P> + +<P> +"We've won the toss, Sandy," says he, "an' the Collie Park's genna +handle the willa first. We've sent them in to see what they'll mak'." +</P> + +<P> +Sandy took me up the brae a bit, an' I got set doon on the girss wi' +Nathan aside me. I took him wi's juist to explain the match, d'ye see, +an' aboot the bats an' wickets, an' sic like, an' so on, because I'm +no' juist acquant wi' a' the oots an' ins o' the thing. A lot o' the +loons gathered roond an' lay doon on the girss, an' they keepit their +tongues gaen to the playin', I can tell ye. Ye wudda thocht they kent +mair aboot cricket than the loons that were playin'. +</P> + +<P> +Weel, the match got startit. They set Sandy at the end nearest the +dyke; an', faigs, he lookit gey weel, mind ye. The captain loonie +wirks at the heckle-machines, an' he'd gotten a len' o' the second +foreman's white canvas coat, an' gae't to Sandy. It was to keep his +shedda oot ahent the bailer's airm, Sandy said; but it didna appear to +mak' ony difference to his shedda. It was juist in the auld place, as +far as I cud see. +</P> + +<P> +Very weel, than, the match began, as I was sayin', an' a'thing gaed +richt eneuch for a little. The Collie Park lads did fine for a while, +but some o' them didna get so lang strikin' the ba' as ithers, an' they +began to roar cheek. +</P> + +<P> +"Noo, Batchy," said some o' them, as a gey mettled-lookin' loon got the +bat, "strik' oot. Lat's see ye knokin' the colour oot o' Snapper +Morrison's ballin'." +</P> + +<P> +Sal, mind ye, an' Batchy wasna lang o' doin' that. He shut his een, +an' hit sweech at the ba', an' awa' it gaed sailin' ower the dyke. +</P> + +<P> +"Well away," roared the loons roond aboot me. "That's a sixer. Play +up, Batchy!" +</P> + +<P> +Batchy spat in his hands, an' set himsel' up for the next ba'. He lut +drive at it, but missed, an' doon gaed his wickets. Ye never heard sic +a row. +</P> + +<P> +"A bloomin' sneak!" roared a' the laddies aside me thegither. "Dinna +gae oot, Batchy. It rowed a' the road." +</P> + +<P> +There was an awfu' wey-o-doin', an' aboot fifty laddies roond Sandy, a' +yalpin' till him at ae time. Efter a lang laberlethan, the bailer got +three shies at Batchy's wickets, because he tried to het what they ca'd +a sneak. But he missed ilky time, an' syne Batchy wallapit the ba' a' +ower the Common, an' floo frae end to end o' the wickets like's he +wasna wyse. It was gey slow wark for Sandy though, an' I think he had +gotten tired, for the laddies roond aboot me began to say, "There was +thirteen ba's i' that lest over; I think Sandy Bowden's dreamin'," an' +so on. I think mysel' Sandy had been doverin', for the ba' hut +Batchy's wicket, an' every ane o' the loons playin' gae a yowl at the +same meenit—"How's that?" Sandy near jamp ootin his white coat wi' +the start; an', takin' till his heels, he was a hunder yairds doon the +Common afore ane o' the laddies grippit him by the tails, an' speered +whaur he was fleein' till. +</P> + +<P> +"I was gettin' hungrie," says Sandy. "I was gaen ower to the toll for +a biskit." That was a lee; for he tell'd me efter, he dreedit, when he +heard the roar, that it was ane o' Sandy Mertin's ki gane wild; an' he +took till his heels, thinkin' it was efter him. +</P> + +<P> +"That bloomin' empire's a pure frost," I heard some o' the loons +sayin'. "He canna coont; an' noo he's genna stop the match 'cause he's +hungrie. Wha ever heard o' an empire gettin' hungrie?" +</P> + +<P> +Sandy got back till his place, an' the match gaed on. "Over comin' +up," said the ither empire forby Sandy; an' the laddie that was ballin' +says, "Ay weel, than, I'm genna see an' get wid." He gae his arm an +awfu' sweel roond, an' instead o' sendin' the ba' to the wickets, it +gaed spung ower an' hut Sandy a yark i' the side o' the heid. +</P> + +<P> +"There's wid," said the ither empire; "but it's no' a wicket for a' +that." Sandy was springin' aboot wi' his heid in his oxter, an' a' the +laddies roarin' and lauchin' like to kill themsel's. +</P> + +<P> +I was ance genna gae doon an' tak' him awa' hame; but I thocht it micht +look raither queer, so I lut him aleen for a little. The captain +loonie began to ball, an' a gey wild-lookin' bailer he was. The Collie +Park's henmost man—he was a little berfit craturie wi' nicker-buckers +an' a straw hat—was in, an' the captain gae him an awfu' crack below +the knee wi' the ba'. +</P> + +<P> +"How's that?" he yowled at Sandy. +</P> + +<P> +"Man, I believe that's fell sair," says Sandy, rubbin' the swalled side +o' his heid. +</P> + +<P> +A' the loons startit to the lauchin', an' the captain roars again, "Ay, +but how is't?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ye can easy see how it is," says Sandy. "The ba' strack him a yark on +the kut." +</P> + +<P> +There was mair lauchin', an' I saw Sandy was gettin' raised. +</P> + +<P> +"Is't l—b—w., ye stewpid auld bloit?" said the impident little wisgan +o' a captain, stickin' himsel' up afore Sandy. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll l—b—double you," says Sandy, "if ye gie me ony o' your chat, ye +half-cled horn-goloch 'at ye are"; and he took the sacket a kleip i' +the side o' the heid wi' his open luif that tummeled him ower the tap +o' the wickets like a puckle rags. In half a meenit a' the hunder +laddies were round Sandy, an' him layin' amon' them wi' ane o' their +ain wickets. +</P> + +<P> +I'll swag the Gallyfloor C.C. got something frae their pattern lest +Setarday efternune that they'll no forget in a hurry. Some men on the +Common cam' doon an' shoo'd the loons awa' frae pappin' Sandy wi' duds, +an' we got hame withoot any farrer mishap; but a' forenicht I heard +Sandy wirrin' awa' till himsel', an' sayin' ilky noo an' +than—"Ill-gettit little deevils; an' me gae them an' orange box too!" +</P> + +<P> +Nathan cam' in juist afore I shut the shop, an' tell'd Sandy that there +had been an' awfu' row on the Common. "Some o the lads i' the +Callyfloor," said Nathan, "were blamin'the captain for gien you cheek, +an' said the wallop i' the lug he got saired him richt. So he got on +his jeckit an' his buits, an' got a haud o' the best bat an' the ba', +an' then he roars a' his micht, 'The club's broken up.' You never saw +sic a row as there was. Willy Mollison's i' the club, an' he's gotten +three bails an' a wicket. That's better gin naething. I nailed twa o' +the bails till him out o' Tarn Dargie's pooch, when he was fechtin' wi' +the captain. Snapper Morrison didna get onything; but he ower the +Common dyke an' in the road; an' when I was comin' hame I saw him +leggin' in the Loan wi' the orange box on his heid. He had nabbit it +oot o' Tooties' Nook, whaur they keepit their bats an' wickets. It's a +gude thing they're broken up at onyrate. I'm in the Collie Park, an' +they're the only club that cud lick his lads." +</P> + +<P> +"O, that's a' richt," says Sandy; an' awa' he gaed, as pleased as you +like. When I dandered doon the yaird to get a breath o' fresh air, +efter I shut the shop, here's him tumblin' catmas, an' stanin' on his +heid i' the middle o' the green, gien Nathan an' twa or three ither +loons coosies! Did you ever hear o' sic a man? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A DREADFUL DISASTER IN THE GARRET. +</H3> + + +<P> +I'm shure I needna trauchle to haud in aboot the bawbees! That man o' +mine wud ramsh an' hamsh an' fling awa' mair than I cud save although I +was a millionaire. Nae farrer gane than lest nicht I heard some +ongaens up the stair. What's he up till noo? thinks I to mysel'. Ye +ken our garret? It's a anod bit roomie, an' we sleep up there i' the +simmer nichts, for the doonstair room gets that het an' seekrif, I +canna fa' ower ava sometimes. So I have the garret made rale snod an' +cosie. There's a fine fixed-in bed, an' I have the room chairs I got +when my Auntie Leeb de'ed, wi' a tidie or twa ower them, an' an +auld-fashioned roond tablie 'at I bocht at a rowp—ane o' thae anes +that cowps up an' sets back to the wa' when you're no' needn't. Auntie +Leeb left me her big lookin' gless too. Ye mind she had a shooster +shopie at the fit o' Collie Park, an' she had a big lookin' gless for +her customers seeing hoo their frocks fitted. Ay weel than, I set the +gless juist up again' the wa' at the end o' the garret, firnent the +fireplace an' it made the roomie real cantie an' cheerie lookin'. +</P> + +<P> +When I heard the din Sandy was makin', I goes my wa's up the stair on +my tiptaes. It was juist upo' the stroke o' nine o'clock, an' I was +juist noo dune shuttin' the shop. The door was aff the snib; an', keep +me, when I lookit in, here's Sandy wi' an Oddfella's kilt an' a bushbie +on, an' his ilky-day's claes lyin' in a pozel on the table. I kent the +kilt whenever I saw't; it was the ane Dauvit Kenawee wears in the +Oddfellas' processions. Sandy was berfit, an', I'm shure, if ye'd seen +him! Haud your tongue! Ye never saw sic a picture. I suppose he'd +taen aff his buits no' to mak' a noise. +</P> + +<P> +Ay weel, here he was wi' a bawbee can'le stuck up again' the boddom o' +the lookin'-gless, an' him maleengerin' aboot i' the flure afore't, wi' +the shaft o' the heather bissam in his hand, whiskin't roond his lugs, +progin' aboot wi't, an' lowpin' here an' there like a hen on a het +girdle. He croonshed doon, an' jookit frae side to side, an' then jamp +straucht up an' lut flee at something wi' the bissam shaft. Syne he +stack the end o' the stick i' the flure, an' bored an' grunted like's +he was rammin't through a pavemint steen. +</P> + +<P> +"That's anither settle't," says he, pullin' up his stick; an' gie'n't a +dicht wi' the tails o' his kilt; syne makin' a kick at something wi' +his berfit fit—"Let us do or die," says he; "Scots wha hae; Wallace +an' Bruce for ever; doon wi' every bloomin' Englisher; rip them up; +koo-heel!" Then he whiskit half-roond aboot, an' lut flee at a seckie +o' caff I had sittin' in a corner. "Come on, Mick Duff; every deevil +o' ye! Change your slaverie," he says akinda heich oot, an' then he +lut yark at the seek again an' missed, an' made a muckle hole i' the +plester. +</P> + +<P> +He stoppit an' harkin't for fear I'd heard the stishie he was makin'. +I never lut dab, but keepit juist as quiet's pussy. +</P> + +<P> +"Auch, she's i' the shop," he says heich oot; an' then he floo back an' +forrit, fencin' an' jookin', an glowerin' at himsel' i' the +lookin'-gless; an' girnin' his teeth like a whitterit. I raley thocht +the man had gane sketch. He made a sweech wi' the bissam shaft 'at +garred the licht o' the can'le waggle frae side to side. Syne he +straughtened himsel' up afore the gless, an', touchin' the ruif wi the +point o' his stick, he says, "Viktory, viktory! Bannockburn is wun. +Hooreh! Hooreh!" +</P> + +<P> +Juist at this meenit there was a rare like's fifty thunderbolts had +burst in Kowper Collie's auld-iron yaird. You never heard sic a soond. +It was like the crack o' a hunder cannon; an' in an instant a' was +dark, an' there was a reeshil o' broken bottles that garred me think +there had been an earthquake i' the back shop. Doon the stair I floo; +but, afore I was half-roads doon, Sandy jamp clean on my back—kilt, +bushbie, an' a'thegither. Doon I gaed like a rickel o' auld beans, an' +Sandy ower the tap o' me, heels-ower-gowrie. When I cam' to mysel', +here's Sandy lyin' streekit oot on his face i' the middle o' a box o' +Hielant eggs that I'd juist noo opened. The strap o' the bushbie was +roond his thrapple, an' was juist aboot stranglin' him, when I cut it +wi' the ham knife. Then he akinda half-turned roond, an' says he, "O +Bawbie! I'm deid. There's a bomshall gane throo my backbeen." +</P> + +<P> +"Rise up," says I, "there's mair than you deid. There's twal' or +fifteen dizzen o' gude eggs bruist to bits. Whatever 'ill I do?" He +raise up; an' if ye'd only seen the sicht! It's as fac's ocht, it was +eneuch to fleg the French. Never will I forget it while I draw breath. +He lookit like some berfit tinkler wife that had been too, an' had +t'a'in, ower the heid, intil a barrel o' yellow oker; an' stickin' on +his weyst there was ane o' my winda tickets—"Just in To-Day." +</P> + +<P> +"O, Bawbie!" he wheenged, "gae up the stair an' see if the ruif's aye +on. I think somebody's been hoddin' dianamite in oor garret." +</P> + +<P> +"When I gaed up the stair wi' a licht, what did I see but my Auntie +Leeb's braw lookin'-gless a' to flinders i' the flure? The licht o' +the can'le had burned up against it, an' riven't a' to pieces. When I +turned roond, here's Sandy stappin' ooten his kilt, an' gaen awa' to +pet on his troosers. +</P> + +<P> +"Alick Bowden," says I—an' my very hert was greit—"Alick Bowden"—I +aye ca' him Alick when I'm angry—"this maun be the end o't. I canna +thole nae mair."' +</P> + +<P> +"For ony sake, Bawbie," he brook in, "dinna say naething the nicht, or +I'll pushon or droon mysel'. I wiss I had been smored amo' thae eggs"; +an' doon the stair he gaed, wi' his breeks in his oxter. +</P> + +<P> +I juist had to g'wa' to my bed an' lat a'thing aleen, an' I ac'ually +grat mysel' ower asleep. I didna ken o' Sandy comin' till his bed ava; +an' when I raise i' the mornin' a' thing was cleared awa', an' the +garret an' backshop a' sweepit an' in order, an' Sandy was busy i' the +yaird hackin' sticks, an' whistlin' "Hey, Jockie Mickdonal'," juist's +as gin naethin' had happened. He's been stickin' in like a hatter ever +sin' syne, an' has a'thing as neat's ninepence; so I canna say a single +wird. But is't no raley something terriple? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XIII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SANDY AND BAWBIE'S SPRING HOLIDAY. +</H3> + + +<P> +Spring holiday! Wheesht! I'll no' forget it in a hurry, I can tell +you. But I never saw't different. Holidays are juist a perfeck +scunner, as far as I've haen to do wi' them; an' as for the rest—I'm +shure I'm aye tireder efter a holiday than at the tailend o' a hard +day's wark. I'm juist a' sair the day wi' sittin' i' the train; an' +yesterday nicht I cud hardly move oot o' the bit, I was that dune. +</P> + +<P> +But I maun tell you the story frae the beginnin'. You've mibby heard +me speak aboot Meg Mortimer's mither that used to bide at The Drum. +Meg's in a big wey o' doin' noo in Edinboro; but I've seen the day, I'm +thinkin'! Weel div I mind when her mither flitted ower frae Powsoddie. +She cam' along to oor hoose to seek the len' o' twa kists, juist to gie +her flittin' some appearance on the cairts. Ay did she, noo-na-na! +What think ye o' that? They were as puir's I kenna what, an' mony a +puckle meal did they get oot o' oor girnil, for Dauvid Mortimer was a +nice man, altho' he was terriple hudden doon wi' the reums. +</P> + +<P> +Weel, Meg gaed awa' to service, an' fell in wi' a weeda man wi' three +o' a faimly. I can ashure you there's nae tume kists in her hoose noo. +She has a big wey o' doin'. Her man's a kind o' heid pillydakus amon' +a lot o' naveys, makin' railroads, and main drains, an' so on. He's +made a heap o' bawbees. Mester Blair's his name. They bide in a big +hoose doon about the Meadows in Edinboro, an' they have a big servant, +and twa dogs; forby a bit lassockie to look efter the bairns. +</P> + +<P> +Meg was throo seein' her fowk no' that lang syne, an' she wud hae me to +promise to come throo wi' Sandy an' see them. She wudna hae a na-say. +She was aye an awfu' tague for tonguein', Meg. I mind when she was but +ten 'ear auld, me, that was saxteen or seventeen 'ear aulder, cudna +haud the can'le till her. She was a gabbin' little taed. Weel, rizzen +be't or neen, she fair dang me into sayin' I wud come wi' Sandy an' see +her at the spring holiday; an' so we juist had to go. +</P> + +<P> +Sandy gaed on juist like a clockin' hen a' Sabbath efternune an' nicht. +He had the upstairs bed lippin' fu' o' luggitch that he was thinkin' o' +takin' wi' him. A body wudda thocht he was settiu' aff for a crooze +roond the North Pole, instead o' on a veesit to Edinboro. He was +rubbin' up his buits, an' syne brethin' on them, an' rubbin' them up +again, an' settin' himsel' back an' lookin' at himsel' in them. He's a +prood bit stockie, Sandy, mind ye, when there's naebody lookin'. He +had a' his goshore suit hung oot on the backs o' chairs a' roond the +hoose. It lookit like's there was genna be a sale or a raffle or +something. +</P> + +<P> +He gaed doon to supper Donal' i' the forenicht, an' I took a dander +awa' doon ahent him, juist to get a moof'u' o' caller air. When I +landit at the stable door I heard Sandy speakin' to somebody. I took a +bit peek in at the winda, an' here's Sandy merchin' aboot wi' the horse +cover tied up in a bundle in ae hand, an' a stick i' the ither. He +stoppit in the tume staw an' laid doon his bundle rale smert like; syne +he lookit ower the buird to Donal', an' says, in an Englishy kind o' a +voice, "Twa return tickets third-class an' back to Edinboro!" I saw +syne what he was at! He was practeesin' seekin' the tickets at the +station. Ow, ay; Sandy's like a' ither body! He's a gey breezie +carlie when he's awa' frae hame, an' his dickie on! +</P> + +<P> +Sandy had his uswal argey-bargeyin' in the train, an' I thocht ae man +an' him, that cam' in at Carnoustie, wi' his wife, an' a pair o' +nickerbucker breeks on, was genna t'a' to the fechtin' a'thegither. +An' faigs, Sandy snoddit him geylies afore we got to Dundee. +</P> + +<P> +There was a lot o' men' an' loons staiverin' aboot Carnoustie playin' +at the gowf; an' Sandy says—"Look at thae jumpin'-jecks o' craturs wi' +their reed jeckets on, like as mony organ-grinders' monkeys, rinnin' +aboot wi' their bits o' sticks, wallopin' awa' at Indeen-rubber ba's. +Puir craturs!" +</P> + +<P> +Man, the chappie wi' the nickerbuckers got up in an awfu' pavey, an' +misca'ed Sandy for a' the vagues—you never heard the like! +</P> + +<P> +"Look ye hear, my bit birkie," says Sandy, gien a gey wild-like wink +wi' his richt e'e, "you speak when ye're spoken till! I dinna bather +mysel' wi' paper-mashie peeriewinkles like the likes o' you; but if you +gi'e me ony o' your sma' chat, man, I'll tak' an' thrapple you wi' that +fowerpence-happeny-the-dizzen paper collar ye've roond the wizand o' +ye." +</P> + +<P> +"Wud ye?" said the Carnoustie birkie, jumpin' till his feet. +</P> + +<P> +The train gae a shoag juist at that meenit, an' he gaed doit ower on +the tap o' Sandy, and brocht a tin box doish doon on his heid. He got +a gey tnap, I can tell you. Sandy keepit his temper something +winderfu', an' he juist quietly set doon Nickerbucker Tammie on the +seat an' says, "Ay, loonie; juist you sit still there till your mither +gie's your nose a dicht, an' ties your gartins; an' you'll get a piece +an' jeely on't when the trainie stops." +</P> + +<P> +You never heard sic lauchin' as there was; an' Sandy's frien' lookit as +gin he'd haen a dram, an' gotten an awfu' dose o' cauld. He didna say +"guid-mornin'" when he gaed oot at the Toy Brig Station. +</P> + +<P> +Sandy had twa-three mair pliskies atween Dundee an' Edinboro, but I +hinna time to tell you o' them. Peety the man that starts to write +Sandy's beebliographie. If he tells the hale truth, eksettera, he'll +hae a gey job. The faimly Bible 'ill be like a heym-book aside the +volum. They'll need to get up early i' the mornin' that reads Sandy's +life, I tell you. The man that writes it 'ill never win to his bed ava. +</P> + +<P> +Weel-a-weel, we landit at Edinboro, an Meg was waitin's, an' as mony +bairns wi' her as wudda startit a raggit schule—although they were a' +braw an' snod, I ashure ye. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep me, Meg," said Sandy, efter he'd shaken hands wi' her, "is thae +a' your litlans? Dod, sic a cleckin!" +</P> + +<P> +The ass that he is! I saw Meg chowl her chafts gey angry like, an' I +took Sandy a doish i' the back wi' my umberell. "Say Mistress Blair, +ye ill-mennered whaup atyar," says I in his lug; an' he gleyed roond at +me, an' says, wi' anither o' his vegabon'-like winks, "Ay; that's +Wattie Scott's monniment, Bawbie. A great man, Wattie! It was him 'at +wret Bailie Nickil Jarvie an' the Reed Gauntlet an' so on. He bade a +fortnicht wi' Luckie Walker at Auchmithie. Bandy Wobster's grandfather +sell'd him a dog when he was there. He was a fine man, Wattie." +</P> + +<P> +Meg an' the bairns an' me gaed into the cab, an Sandy, he wud be up on +the dickey aside the driver. As I cudda tell'd afore he gaed up, he +wasna there five meenits when he was nearhand at the fechtin' wi' the +man aboot the wey he drave his horse. I was gled when we landit at +Meg's hoose, for I was expectin' ilky meenit to see the cabby—he was +an ill-faur'd, rossen-faced lookin' tyke—fling Sandy heels-ower-heid +into the cab amon' the bairns—he was black-gairdin' the man's horse +for an auld, hunger'd reeshil, an' praisin' up Donal' that terriple! +</P> + +<P> +"Man, you've juist to lay the reinds on's back, an' he's awa' like the +wind," I heard him sayin'. "There's naething a' roond aboot can touch +him. He can trot up the High Road wi' sasteen hunderwecht. He's a +reg'lar topper! You should send that hunger'd-lookin' radger o' yours +to Glesterlaw"; an' so on he gaed, an' the man girnin' an' skoolin' at +him like a teegar. +</P> + +<P> +When we cam' aff at the Meadows, Sandy gaed roond aboot the beast, +chucklin' awa' till himsel' juist like watter dreepin' intil a tume +cistern; but he keepit oot o' the reach o' the cabby's kornals. I +expeckit to see him get roond the linders wi' them for his impidence. +</P> + +<P> +"If you cam' to Arbroath wi' the like o' that, the Croolty to Animals +wud grip you afore you was weel through the toll," he says to the man. +"You'll better g'wa' hame wi't as lang's it's het. If you lat that +sharger cule, it'll stiffen up, an' you'll never get it oot o' the bit, +till you bring a cairt for't." +</P> + +<P> +The cabby got his bawbees frae Meg, an' drave awa', gien Sandy a glower +like a puttin' bull; but Sandy juist gae a bit lauch, an' cried, +"Ta-ta!" +</P> + +<P> +We got into the house. Eh, sic a place for stech! Haud your tongue! +Really yon fair sneckit a'thing. Sandy could hardly get his hat aff +for glowerin' aboot him; an' when he did get it aff, he handit it to +ane o' the loons; an', afore you cudda sen Jeck Robison, they were oot +at the back door scorin' goals wi't throo' atween the claes-poles on +the green. Meg was at the hurdies o' them wi' a switch gey quick, an' +sune had Sandy's lum hingin' aside his greatcoat in the lobby. +</P> + +<P> +We wasna lang set doon when in cam' Meg's man. A brisk-lookin' fellah +he is, I can tell you. He shook hands wi's as hearty's though we'd +come to gie him a job; an' in five meenits, tooch, you wudda thocht +Sandy an' him had never been sindered sin' they got on their first +daidles. I'll swag, Meg's fa'in on hex feet, an' nae mistak'! +</P> + +<P> +I'm shure I'm no complainin', but Sandy Bowden's been an unsatisfaktory +man in mony weys; but, as the Bible says, we've a' a dwang o' some +kind, an' if I hadna gotten Sandy, weel, I michta haen a drucken son, +or a licht-heided dauchter. Wha can tell? We've a' a hankie mair than +we deserve, nae doot. I ken I have onywey; but that's nether here nor +there. +</P> + +<P> +We were sittin' enjoyin' a crack, an' lookin' oot at the windas, +watchin' the bairns in their coaches, an' the birds fleein' aboot as +happy as crickets, huntin' for wirms amon' the young girss. +</P> + +<P> +"The Meadows look very pretty i' the noo," said Mester Blair. "The +very birds enjoy the fresh green grass." +</P> + +<P> +"They do that," put in Sandy. "It's a treat to see them, puir things. +They are fond o' a bittie o' onything green. I tak' a bit dander oot +the bunkers on a Sabbath mornin' whiles for a pucklie chuckin-wirth to +Dickie, an' you wud really think the cratur kent. He gleys doon when I +come in, as much as to say, 'C'way wi't, Sandy; I ken fine you have't +in your pooch!'" +</P> + +<P> +"Bawbie here winna believe me," continued Sandy, gien Mester Blair a +wink, "but I've tell'd her twa-three times that when I've gane doon the +yaird i' the winter-time wi' my auld greatcoat—it's gettin' very green +noo, but it was a bit guid stuff aince in its day—the birds 'ill come +fleein' doon an' sit on the palin' aside me, an' wheetle-wheetle awa' +for a whilie. It's queer; but that's the effek the green appears to +hae on them." +</P> + +<P> +Mester Blair leuch till I thocht he wudda wranged himsel'. A richt +hearty laucher he is. The lauch gaed a' ower him, an' you could hardly +sen futher it was comin' oot o' his moo or his baits, there was that +muckle o't. +</P> + +<P> +Syne Sandy an' him got on to the crack aboot the tattie trade, an' you +wudda thocht Sandy was genna tak' him in for a pairtner, he had that +muckle to tell him. +</P> + +<P> +"An' do you do much wi' the Americans?" said Mester Blair. +</P> + +<P> +"I do a' their trade," said Sandy. "There's only three o' them buys +tatties in Arbroath noo. The ither twa's gey queer that wey; they get +a'thing preserved in tins, frae aboot London they tell me." +</P> + +<P> +Mester Blair didna appear to understand Sandy, an' he speered, "Do you +get cash again' Billy Lowden; or hoo d'ye get peyment?" +</P> + +<P> +"If the bawbees is no' at the back o' the cairt, up goes the bawk, an' +Donal' ca's awa," says Sandy. "Na, na, neen o' your Billy Lowden tick +for me. I believe in the ready clink." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I see," said Mester Blair. "You get cash at the ship's side. +That is the safe plan." +</P> + +<P> +"As you say," said Sandy, "that's exakly Bandy Wobster's wey o' +pettin't. I believe in the bawbees afore the tatties leave the back +door o' the cairt. Short accounts mak' lang freends." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you do onything wi' the Continent ava?" said Meg's man. +</P> + +<P> +"I travel a' ower the toon," said Sandy, "frae Tootles Nook to +Culloden, an' frae the Skemels to Cairnie Toll. It disna maitter a +doakan to me wha I sell till. Seven pund to the half-steen, an' cash +doon—thae's my principles; the same price, and the game turn o' the +bawk, to gentle and simple. When the champions are gude I can manish +twa load i' the day fine, an' if the disease keeps oot amon' them, they +pey no that ill." +</P> + +<P> +Meg's man gey a kind o' a whistle in laich, an' I saw fine syne whaur +he had tint himsel'. Meg had tell'd him Sandy was a tattie merchant, +an' he'd been thinkin' Sandy had a big wey o' doin', an' sell'd tatties +in shiploads an' so on. I saw the whole thing in a blink, but never +lut wink, an' Sandy was fient a hair the better or the waur o' Meg's +man's mistak'. +</P> + +<P> +We got a grand denner—something specific. "This is a kind o' a haiver +o' buff, Mistress Blair," said Sandy, when we got set doon; but I gae +him a kick throo ablo the table that garred him tak' his tongue atween +his teeth. +</P> + +<P> +I needna tell you aboot a' we got to eat; Sandy ate that hearty that he +gaed oot to the simmer-seat efter, an' cud hardly steer oot o' the bit +for half an 'oor. Really ilky thing was better than anither, an' we +feenished up wi' ice-cream. Sandy took a gullar o't afore he kent, an' +I think he thocht he was brunt, for he nippit up the water bottle, an' +took a sweech o' cauld watter, an' then gae a pech like's he'd come +ooten a fit. He was a' richt efter a whilie, but the cratur had +over-eaten himsel', an' he was gey uneasy a' efternune. +</P> + +<P> +Efter we got oor tea, Meg got the bairns a' beddit, an' then her an' +her man, an' me an' Sandy set aff for the theater. It was a terriple +grand theater, wi' as muckle gold hingin' roond aboot as wud mak' a' +the puir fowk in Arbroath millionaires. We got a grand seat, an' +a'thing gaed richt till near the feenish. +</P> + +<P> +Mester Blair had what they ca' an opera gless wi' him, an' he handed it +to me to look throo. Sandy in wi' his hand intil his greatcoat pooch, +an' oot wi' his spygless, a great lang thing' like a barber's pole, +that he wan at a raffle at the Whin Inn. There was a chappie deein' on +the stage. He'd stuck himsel' wi' his soord, because a lassie wudna +mairry him, an' he was juist lyin' tellin' a' the fowk aboot crooil +weemin, an' peace in the grave, an' a'thing, when Sandy cockit up his +spygless to hae a glower at him afore he gae his henmist gasp. +</P> + +<P> +I saw the chappie gien a kind o' a fear'd-like start, syne he sprang +till his feet an' roared, "Pileece, pileece! there's an anarkist an' a +feenyin's bom in the theater," an' took till his heels aff the stage. +</P> + +<P> +You never saw sic a wey o' doin'. You speak aboot peace in the grave. +There wasna muckle peace in the theater. We was a' winderin' what was +ado, an' Sandy was busy peekin' roond wi' his spygless, when twa +bobbies cam' fleein' anower an' grippit him an' roared till him to +sirrender. I can tell you, he nearhand sirrendered ane o' the bobbies +wi' the spygless. If it hadna been for Mester Blair gettin' a haud o' +the wechty end o't, there wudda been a noo helmet, an' mibby a new +bobby needed in Edinboro. +</P> + +<P> +The row was a' ower in five meenits, when Mester Blair explen'd things; +but if he hadna been wi's, I'm dootin' it wudda been a job. There was +ane o' the great muckle dosent nowts o' bobbies cam' an' gowpit in my +face, an' says, "D'ye think this ane's a woman?" I fand in ahent's for +my umberell; but my chappie gaed his wa's gey quick, or I'd gien him +the wecht o't across his nose. It was a gey-like wey o' doin' aboot +naething; but efter we got hame an' had oor supper we forgot a' aboot +it, an' spent a very happy 'oor or twa afore we gaed to oor beds. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XIV. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +LOVE AND WAR. +</H3> + + +<P> +Wudna you winder hoo some fowk grow aye the aulder the waur? You see +Toon Cooncillors, for instance, gettin' less use the langer they keep +their job; an' ministers—haud your tongue! If they're no' guid, they +get mair an' mair driech the langer they preach; even their auld +sermons, when they turn the barrel an' start at the boddom o' her, +appear to get driecher than ever. It's juist the same wi' Sandy—the +aulder he grows he gets the waur, till I raley winder what'll happen +till him. He's richt sensible an' eident whiles; but when the fey +blude gets intil his heid, an' he gets into the middle o' ony rig, he's +juist as daft as the rochest haflin that ever fee'd. +</P> + +<P> +When I heard the band on Setarday efternune, I threw the key i' the +shop door, an' ran doon to the fit o' the street to see the sojers +passin'. Wha presents himsel', merchin' in the front o' the band, but +my billie, Sandy. There he was wi' a hunder laddies roond him, smokin' +his pipe like's he was gettin' his denner ooten't, ane o' his airms up +to the elba in his breeks' pooch, stappin' oot to the musik like a +fechtin' cock, an' his ither airm sweengin' back an' forrit like the +pendilum o' the toon's clock. To look at him you wudda thocht he was +trailin' the band an' a' the sojers ahent him, he lookit that hard +wrocht. He never saw me—not him! His e'en were starin' fair afore +him; he wudna kent his ain tattie cairt, I believe, he was that muckle +taen up wi' his merchin'. +</P> + +<P> +He landit hame till his tea atween sax an' seven o'clock, stervin' o' +cauld, but as happy's a cricket. "Man, Bawbie," he says, as I laid a +reed herrin' on the brander for him, "there's naething affeks me like +sojers merchin' to musik. It juist garrs my backbeen dirl, an' I canna +sit still. When they were doin' the merch-past this efternune, I had +to up an' rin, or I wudda thrappilt some lad sittin' aside's. That's +the wey it affeks me. I wudda gien a pound note juist to gotten a +richt straucht-forrit fecht amon' them for half an 'oor." +</P> + +<P> +"You're juist like a muckle bubbly laddie, Sandy," says I. "It's a +winder you wasna awa' up the toon wi' them to see if ony o' the sojers +wud lat you cairry hame their gun. I raley winder to see an auld +tattie man like you goin' on like some roid loon." +</P> + +<P> +"That's a' you ken, Bawbie," says he. "I ken mair aboot thae things +than you, fully; an', though I am a tattie man, look at Abraham Linkin; +he was waur than a tattie man to begin wi'; an' the Jook o' +Wellinton—michty, he was born in Ireland; an' look what he cam' till! +I tell you what it is, Bawbie, if they'd haen me at the battle o' +Waterloo, you wudda heard anither story o't. I feel'd within mysel', +that if I'd only haen the chance—see 'at that reed herrin's no' +burnin'—I michta been a dreel sergint or a general——" +</P> + +<P> +"A general haiverin' ass," I strak in. "See; there's your herrin'; +poor oot your tea noo, an' haud your lang tongue." +</P> + +<P> +"Ow, weel-a-weel," says Sandy, gey dour-like—he's as bucksturdie as a +mule when he tak's't in's heid—"but we're no' deid yet, an' we'll +mibby manish to garr some fowk winder yet, when a's dune. What's been +dune afore can be dune again; the speerit o' Bannockburn's no' de'ed +oot a'thegither." +</P> + +<P> +But I left the cratur chatterin' awa' till himsel', an' ran but to sair +some fowk i' the shop. Did you ever hear o' sic a man? Dauvid Kenawee +says Sandy's a kind o' a sinnyquanon; an' it's my opeenyin he's no' +very far wrang, whatever that may mean. +</P> + +<P> +As I was sayin', there's nae fules like auld fules. I put oot +twa-three bits o' things on the green on Setarday forenune, an' I +forgot a' aboot them till efter the shop was shut. It wud be nearhand +twal o'clock when I ran doon for them. It was a fine nicht, but +dreidfu' cauld. Juist as I was gaitherin' up the twa-three bit duds, I +heard voices ower the dyke, an' I cudna but harken to see wha wud be +oot at that time o' nicht. Fancy what I thocht when I heard Beek +Steein's voice, that bides in Mistress Mollison's garret, sayin', "Eh, +ay, Jeemie; it's an awfu' thing luve. I hinna steekit 'an e'e for twa +nichts thinkin' aboot ye." +</P> + +<P> +Preserve's a', thinks I to mysel', this is Ribekka an' Jeems Ethart, +the engine-driver. Jeems is a weeda man, an' Ribekka's like me, she's +on the wrang side o' forty; but, faigs, on Setarday nicht you wudda +thocht they were baith aboot five-an'-twenty. +</P> + +<P> +"My bonnie dooie," I heard Jeems say. A gey dooie, I says to mysel'. +There's twal steen o' her, if there's a pund. It wud tak' a gey pair +o' weengs to cairry Ribekka, I tell ye. +</P> + +<P> +"A'ye genna gie's a kiss, Ribekka?" Jeems says after a whilie; an' +Ribekka gae a bit geegle, an' then whispers laich in, "Help yoursel', +Jeemie"—an' there they were at it like twa young anes. +</P> + +<P> +I didna ken whuther to flee up the yaird, roar oot "feyre," or clim' up +on the dyke an' gie them a wallop roond the linders wi' my bits o' +cloots. So I stud still. +</P> + +<P> +The fient a ane o' them ever thocht there was a livin' sowl within +fifty yairds o' them, an' they were crackin' an' kirrooin' awa' like a +pair o' doos. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't a peety they dinna ca' me Izik?" says Jeems. +</P> + +<P> +"Hoo d'ye think that?" said Ribekka. +</P> + +<P> +"Cause it wudda lookit so fine—Izik an' Ribekka, d'ye see?" an' they +nickered an' leuch like a' that. +</P> + +<P> +"An' I wudda been Ribekka at the wall," said Beek. +</P> + +<P> +"Exackly," said Jeems; "altho' this auld pump's hardly the kind o' wall +they had in thae days. I hope there's nae horn-gollochs aboot it." +</P> + +<P> +"There's twal o'clock," said Ribekka; "we'll need to be goin'. +Gude-nicht, Jeems. See an' mind aboot me. Gude-nicht." +</P> + +<P> +"Gude-nicht, my ain bonnie lassie," Jeems harken'd in till her. "Dinna +be feared o' me forgettin' ye. I never lift a shuffle o' coals but, I +think I see your face. Every puff o' the engine brings me in mind o' +ye, Ribekka; an' when I sit doon to tak' my denner, I lat fa' my flagon +whiles, I'm that taen up thinkin' aboot ye." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh, Jeems, you're codin' me noo! But gude-night! Eh, mind ye, it's +Sabbath mornin'." +</P> + +<P> +"Gude-nicht, my bonnie lassie. Oh, Ribekka, you're sweeter gin heather +honey. I wiss Sint Tammas Market was here, an' we'll be nae langer twa +but wan. My bonnie dooie! Gude-nicht, my ain scentit geranum," says +Jeems. +</P> + +<P> +I began to be akinda waumish, d'ye ken. The haivers o' the two spooney +craturs juist garred me feel like's I'd taen a fizzy drink or +something. You ken what I mean—the kind o' a' ower kittlie feelin' +that's like to garr you screech, ye dinna ken hoo. +</P> + +<P> +"Gude-nicht, Jeems," says Beek again. "I'll never luve onybody but +you." +</P> + +<P> +"Are your shure?" began the auld ass again; an' me stanin' near frozen +to death wi' cauld, an' cudna get oot o' the bit. +</P> + +<P> +"Never!" said Beek; "never!" +</P> + +<P> +"Gude-nicht, than, dearie, an' see an' no' forget me. Will ye no'?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ye needna be feared, Jeems. I luve you alone, an' nae ither body i' +the wide, wide world. Gude-nicht, my Jeemie." +</P> + +<P> +"Gude-nicht, than, Ribekka, luvie. An' if you dinna forget——" +</P> + +<P> +But this was ower muckle for me; so I juist roared oot, "Gude-nicht, ye +haiverin' eedeits," as heich as I cud yawl, an' up the yaird at what I +cud flee. +</P> + +<P> +Sandy was beddit on the back o' ten o'clock, an' he was snorin' like a +dragoon when I gaed up the stair. But when I got anower he jamp up a' +o' a sudden, like's he'd gotten a fleg. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep me, Bawbie, whaur i' the face o' the earth hae you been?" he +says, wi' his een stanin' in's heid, an' drawin' in his breath like's a +shooer o' cauld water had been skootit aboot him. "You've shurely been +awa' at the whalin'. Bless me, your feet's as cauld's an iceikle. +Keep them awa' frae me." +</P> + +<P> +Isn't that juist like thae men? Weemin can beat them in mony weys, I +admit; but, for doonricht selfishness, come your wa's! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XV. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SANDY MAKES A SPEECH. +</H3> + + +<P> +There's been great gaitherin's in oor washin'-hoose this while +back—"Nochties-an'-Broziana," Bandy Wobster ca'd the meetin's to +Sandy. The ither Wedensday i' the forenicht—the shop was shut i' the +efternune, of coorse; I'm a great believer i' the half-holiday, you +see. I think it's a capital idea. It gi'es a body a kind o' a breath +or twa i' the middle o' the week, an' it pits naebody aboot. The fowk +juist come for their things afore you shut. It disna mak' a hair o' +difference. If you didna open ava, they wud juist come the nicht afore. +</P> + +<P> +Weel, but, as I was sayin', the ither Wedensday nicht I flang my +shallie ower my heid, an' took a stap oot at the back door i' the +gloamin'. It was a fine nicht, an' I sat doon on the simmer-seat at +the gavel o' the washin'-hoose, an' heard the argey-bargeyin' gaen on +inside. I stuid up an' lookit in at the bolie winda, juist abune whaur +the skeels sit, an' here was Sandy an' his cronies a' busy crackin' an' +smokin', an enjoyin' themselves i' the middle o' a great steer o' reek +an' noise. +</P> + +<P> +Juist as I lookit in, Bandy Wobster said something to Dauvid Kenawee, +an' Dauvid raise, an' takin' his pipe oot o' his moo, says, "Order! I +pirpose Mester Wobster to the chair." +</P> + +<P> +"Hear, hear," said a' the rest; an' wi' that Bandy got up on the +boiler-heid on his belly, an' turnin' roond, sat wi' the legs o' him +hingin' ower the front o' the boiler, juist like a laddie sittin' on +the dyke at the Common. Watty Finlay, the weaver, shuved anower a tume +butter kit for Bandy to set his feet on, an' then a'body sat quiet, +juist like's something was genna happen. +</P> + +<P> +Bandy took a bit tarry string, or tabaka or something, ooten his breeks +pooch, an', nippin' aff a quarter o' a yaird o't, he into his moo wi't. +Syne he swallowed a spittal, an' said—"Freends an' fella ratepeyers." +Bandy never pey'd rates in's life. He bides in a twa-pound garret i' +the Wyndies, an' hardly ever peys rent, lat aleen rates. "Freends an' +fella ratepeyers," says he. +</P> + +<P> +Bandy was stan'in' up on the boddom o' the butter kit gin this time, +an' a' the billies were harkenin' like onything. +</P> + +<P> +"Freends an' fella ratepeyers," says Bandy again. "See gin that door's +on the sneck, Sandy, an' dinna lat the can'le blaw oot." +</P> + +<P> +Sandy raise an' put to the door, an' set the can'le alang nearer Bandy +a bit, an' then sat doon i' the sofa again. +</P> + +<P> +"I hinna muckle to say," says Bandy. Bandy was brocht up in Aiberdeen, +you ken, an' he has whiles a gey queer wey o' speakin'. "I hinna very +muckle to say, you ken," says he, "an' konsequently, I'll no' say very +muckle." +</P> + +<P> +"Hear, hear," roared Watty Finlay. +</P> + +<P> +"The Toon Cooncil elections is leemin' in the distance," continued +Bandy, "an', as ceetizens o' the Breetish Empyre, we maun look oot for +fit an' proper persons to reprisent the opinions o' the democracy in +the Hoose o'—in the Toon Hoose, an' on the Police Commission. +Gentlemen——" +</P> + +<P> +This garred a' the billies sit back in their seats, an' dicht their +moos wi' their jeckit sleeves, an' host. Watty Finlay nearhand cowpit +ower the bucket he was sittin' on; but he got his balance again, an' +sayin', "Ay, man," heich oot, he got a' richt sattled doon again. +</P> + +<P> +"Gentlemen," says Bandy, "the time for action draws at hand. Oor +watter is no fit for ki drinking; an' there's fient a thing but watter +in the weet dock. My heart bleeds when I go roond the shore an' see +all the ships sailin' oot o' the herbir, an' no' a livin' sowl comin' +in. Gentlemen, that herbir's growin' a gijantic white elephant." +</P> + +<P> +"An' so's the Watter Toor, an' the Lifeboat too," roared Dauvid Kenawee. +</P> + +<P> +"The toon's foo o' white elephants, a' colours," said Moses Certricht. +"The Toon Cooncil's made it juist like a wild beast show." +</P> + +<P> +"Hear, hear," cried the whole lot; an' Stumpie Mertin, gettin' a little +excited, roared "Order," an' set them a' a-lauchin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Gentlemen," said Bandy again, "it's as plen's a pikestaff that a' oor +municeepal affairs is clean gaen to the deevil a'thegither; an' I have +much pleasure——" +</P> + +<P> +"Hear, hear," said Watty Finlay, "he's the very man." There was a bit +lauch at this, an' Watty added, "I mean Sandy, of coorse—no' the +deevil 'at Bandy was speakin' aboot." +</P> + +<P> +"I was genna say," said Bandy, "when I was interrupit by the honourable +gentleman——" +</P> + +<P> +"O, gie's a rest," said Watty; an' Bandy had to begin again. +</P> + +<P> +"I was genna say," he said, "that we maun get a hand o' a puckle men o' +abeelity an' straucht-forritness, an' I have much pleasure in proposin' +a vote of thanks to oor worthy freend, Mester Bowden, for comin' forrit +to abolish the Toon Cooncil o' every rissim o' imposeeshin, till +taxation shall vanish into oblivion, an' be a thing o' the past. +Mester Bowden is a man——" +</P> + +<P> +"Hear, hear," says Watty again. +</P> + +<P> +"Mester Bowden is a man that will never do onything——" +</P> + +<P> +"Hear, hear," Watty stricks in again. He juist yatter-yattered awa' +like a parrot a' the time. +</P> + +<P> +"Onything below the belt," proceeded Bandy. "Give him your votes, +gentlemen. I can recommend him. Sandy—I mean Mester Bowden, will +stick to his post like Cassybeeanka, or whatever they ca'd the billie +that was brunt at the battle o' the Nile. He'll no' be like some o' +them that, like Ralph the Rover, +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 3em">Sailed away,</SPAN><BR> +An' scoored the sea for mony a day.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Gentlemen, let everywan here do his very best to get every elektor to +vote for Sandy, Mester Bowden, the pop'lar candidate. Up wi' him to +the tap o' the poll!" +</P> + +<P> +Bandy cam' doon wi' his tackety buit on the boddom o' the butter kit, +an' in it gaed, an' him wi't, an' there he was, clappin' his hands, an' +stanin' juist like's he'd on a wid crinoline. You never heard sic a +roostin' an' roarin' an' hear-hearin' an' hurrain'! I had to shut my +een for fear o' bein' knokit deaf a'thegither. Stumpie Mertin jumpit +up as spruce as gin he had baith his legs, instead o' only ane, an' +forgettin' whaur he was, he glowered a' roond the wa' an' says, +"Whaur's the bell, lads?" +</P> + +<P> +It was Sandy's turn noo; an' efter Dauvid Kenawee, auld Geordie Steel, +an' Moses Certricht had gotten the chairman pu'd oot o' the butter kit, +an' on to the boiler-heid again, Sandy raise ooten his seat wi' a look +on his face like a nicht watchman. They a' swang their airms roond +their heids, an' hurraed like onything, an' Sandy took lang breaths, +an' lookit roond him as gin he was feard some o' them wud tak' him a +peelik i' the lug. +</P> + +<P> +When they quieted doon, Sandy gae a host, an' Watty Finlay said, "Hear, +hear." +</P> + +<P> +"Fella elektors," said Sandy, "let me thank you for your cordial +reception." +</P> + +<P> +Sandy had haen that ready aforehand, for he said her aff juist like +"Man's Chief End." Syne he lifted his fit an' put it on the edge o' +the sofa. He rested his elba on his knee, an' his chin on his hand, +an' lookit quite at hame, like's he'd been accustomed addressin' +meetin's a' his born days. +</P> + +<P> +"I think oor worthy chairman spoke ower high aboot my abeelity," said +Sandy; "but as far as lies in my pooer, I will never budge from my +post, but stand firm." At this point, Sandy's fit slippit aff the edge +o' the sofa, an' he cam' stoit doon an' gae Moses Certricht a daud i' +the lug wi' the croon o' his heid, that sent Moses' heid rap up again' +Dauvid Kenawee's. +</P> + +<P> +"What i' the world are ye heavin' aboot that heid o' yours like that +for?" said Dauvid, glowerin' like a wild cat at Moses: an' Bandy kickit +his heels on the front o' the boiler, an' roared, "Order, gentlemen. +Respeck the chair!" +</P> + +<P> +I was juist away to cry—"Ye micht respeck my boiler, raither, an' no' +kick holes i' the plester wi' thae muckle clunkers o' heels o' yours"; +but I keepit it in. +</P> + +<P> +Sandy got himsel' steadied up again, an' pulled doon his weyscot, syne +gae his moo a dicht, an' buttoned his coat. I cud see fine that he was +tryin' to keep up the English; but it wasna good enough. "I am no' a +man o' learnin'," said Sandy. "I'm a wirkin' man, an' if I tak' up my +heid wi' publik affairs, it's 'cause I've naething else ado, and it'll +keep me oot o' langer. As oor respeckit chairman says, I'm no' like +Ralph the Rover, sailin' awa' an' scoorin' the sea for mony a day. +That looks like a pure weyst o' soap—juist like what goes on i' the +Toon Cooncil daily-day. You may lauch, freends, but it's ower true; +an' wha is't peys for't?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's his! It's his, lads!" roared a' the billies i' the washin'-hoose. +</P> + +<P> +"It is so," said Sandy. "Oor Toon Cooncil's juist like this Ralph the +Rover, gaen awa' scoorin' the sea for nae end—for the sea's no' +needin' scoorin'—when he michta been at hame helpin' his wife to ca' +the washin'-machine. It's usef'u' wark we want. Neen o' your Bailie +Thingymabob's capers, wi' his donkey engines, eksettera. Echt thoosand +pound for a noo kirkyaird! Did ye ever hear the like! What aboot the +grand view you get? A puckle o' thae Cooncillors crack as gin they +were genna pet bow-windas into a' the graves, to lat ye hae a grand +view efter you was buried. Blethers o' nonsense! That's juist what I +ca' scoorin' the sea like Ralph the Rover." +</P> + +<P> +By faigs, lads, Sandy garred me winder gin this time. Ye never heard +hoo he laid it into them, steekin' his nivs an' layin' aboot him wi' +his airms. +</P> + +<P> +"Echt thoosand pound!" he roars again. "That's seven shillin's the +heid—man, woman, and bairn i' the toon o' Arbroath. What d'ye think +o' that? But that's no' a'. There's the toon's midden, too; that's +needin' a look intil." +</P> + +<P> +"Hear, hear," put in Watty as uswal; an' Bandy added, "It has muckle +need, as my nose can tell ye." +</P> + +<P> +"What d'ye think o' a midden i' the very middle o' your toon?" Sandy +gaed on. "I paws for an answer," he said in a gravedigger's kind o' a +voice. He crossed his legs ower ane anither, an' put ane o' his hands +in ablo the tails o' his coat; an', gettin' akinda aff his balance, he +gaed spung up again' Bandy Wobster. There was a crunch an' a splash, +an' there was the chairman's bowd legs stickin' up oot o' the boiler, +an' his face lookin' throo atween his taes, wi' a pair o' een like a +wild cat. He was up to the neck amon' the claes I had steepin' for the +morn's washin'. The nesty footer that he was, I cudda dune I kenna +what till him. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye great, big, clorty, tarry beast," I roared in at the winda; "come +oot amon' my claes this meenit, or I'll come in an' kin'le the fire, +an' boil ye." Sandy bloo oot the can'le; an' by a' the how-d'ye-does +ever was heard tell o', you niver heard the marrow o' yon. Stumpie +Mertin roared "Order! Feyre!" at the pitch o' his voice; an' the +chairman was yowlin', "For ony sake, gie's a grip o' some o' your hands +till I get oot o' this draw-wall, or I'm a deid man." +</P> + +<P> +I think he had gotten haud o' a shelf abune his heid, an' giein' +himsel' a poo up; for there was a most terriple reeshel o' broken +bottles, an' beef tins, an' roarin' an' swearin', you never heard the +like. +</P> + +<P> +"What i' the face o' the earth was ye doin' blawin' oot the can'le, +Sandy?" said Dauvid Kenawee. "Hold on a meenit till I strik' a spunk, +an' see wha's a' deid," he says; an' wi' that he strak' a match an' +lichtit the can'le. Bandy had gotten himsel' akinda warsled oot o' the +boiler, but Stumpie Mertin had tnakit his wid leg ower by the ankle, +an' there he was hawpin' aboot, gaen bobbin' up an' doon like a +rabbit's tail, roarin' "Murder!" +</P> + +<P> +"I think we'll better lave ower the rest o' the meetin' till anither +nicht," said Moses Certricht, "an' we can look into the toon's midden +some ither time." +</P> + +<P> +"Juist tak' a look roond aboot ye," says I, in at the winda, "an' ye'll +see midden eneuch. Wha's genna clean up that mairter? I paws for a +answer," says I, in a voice as like Sandy's bural-society wey o' +speakin' as I cud manish. "Speak aboot pettin' Sandy Bowden at the tap +o' the poll. He'll be mair use at the end o' the bissam shaft, I'm +thinkin'." +</P> + +<P> +"C'wey, you lads," says Bandy. "I'm soakin' dreepin' throo an' throo, +an' it's time I was oot o' this." +</P> + +<P> +"Hear, hear," says Watty again; an' oot the entry they a' merched +withoot a wird. If I'm no mista'en that'll be the end o' Sandy's Toon +Cooncillin'; an' time till't, I think. The man's no' wyse to think +aboot ony sic thing. Perfeckly ridic'lous! +</P> + +<P> +Sandy an' me were oot the Sands enjoyin' a bit walk juist yesterday +efternune, an' we were dreedfu' quiet. There didna appear to be +onything to speak aboot ava. So I juist said in a kind o' jokey wey, +"Ay, Sandy, an' hae ye seen the Ward Committee yet, laddie, aboot that +Toon Cooncil bisness." +</P> + +<P> +As shure's ocht, he grew reed i' the face; but he got richt efter a +whilie, an' he says, "We're genna be like the Skule Brod efter this, +Bawbie. We'll hae oor meetin's in private, an' juist lat you an' the +publik ken aboot bits o' things ya can mak' naething o'. D'ye see? If +ye pet your nose in aboot ony bolies harkenin', you'll mibby get the +wecht o' a bissam shaft on the end o't. That'll learn ye to slooch an' +harken to ither fowk's bisness." +</P> + +<P> +"Keep me!" says I, I says. "Ye're terriple peppery the nicht, Sandy. +Wha's been straikin' you against the hair, cratur? It wasna me that +shuved Bandy i' the boiler; but he'd been neen the waur o' a bit steep, +for he trails aboot a clorty-like sicht. Him speak aboot the watter +supply! It's no' muckle he kens aboot the watter supply, or the soap +supply ether." +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Bawbie," says Sandy, "if you're genna rag me ony mair aboot +that, it's as fac's ocht, I'll rin awa' an' join the mileeshie. I wud +raither be blawn into minch wi' an' echty-ton gun than stand ony mair +o' your gab." +</P> + +<P> +"Tut, tut, Sandy," says I, "keep on your dickie, man. Ye're no' +needin' to get into a pavey like that. Keep me, fowk wud think ye was +discussin' the auld kirk questin, the wey you're roarin'. The +mileeshie wudna hae you at ony rate, an' we're no' juist dune wi' ye at +hame yet. But neist time you're makin' a speech, Sandy, dinna try an' +stand on ae leg. That's what put ye aff the straucht. Ye see——" +</P> + +<P> +I lookit roond, an' Sandy wasna there. When I turned, here's him +fleein' in the Sands wi' his fingers in his lugs, like spring-heeled +Jeck. I tell ye, that man winna heed a single wird I say till him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XVI. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SANDY'S CHRISTMAS PRESENT. +</H3> + + +<P> +Oh, wheesht! When Sandy's on for doin' something special, he nearhand +aye mak's a gutter o't some wey or ither. On Setarday nicht he was +gaen aboot hostin', an' spittin', an' sayin' ilky noo an' than, "Ay, +Bawbie; it's a fine nicht the nicht." He sweepit oot ahent the washin' +soda barrel twa-three times; then he rowed up the tnock that ticht that +she's never steered a meenit sin' syne. He took the hammer an' ca'd a' +the coals fair into koom, an' then he redd up at the back shop till I +cudna lay my hands on a single thing 'at I wantit. I saw fine there +was something i' the wind; but, do my best, I cudna jaloose what it was. +</P> + +<P> +He put on the shop shutters, an' syne screwed aff the gas at the meeter +afore I got the bawbees oot o' the till, an' stack in, ye never saw the +like. He was that anxious to gie me a hand that he hendered me near +half an 'oor. +</P> + +<P> +This gaed on a' Sabbath! He was three times at the kirk, an' he +roostit an' sang till the bit lassies i' the very koir lookit aboot +akinda feard like. But Sandy never jowed his jundie. He put in +anither button o' his coat, an' stack in till the Auld Hunder like the +Jook o' Wellinton at the battle o' Waterloo. The koir sang an anthem +i' the efternune, an' Sandy sang anither at the same time, the rest o' +the fowk harkenin' to the competition. Sandy gaed squawlin' an' +squawkin' up an' doon amon' the quivers, an' through the middle o' what +he ca'd the cruchits, juist like a young pairtrick amon' a pozel o' +hag. Mistress Glendie, that sits at the tap o' oor seat, is a bit o' a +singer, an' she put back her lugs an' skooled like a fountin' mule at +Sandy, oot at the corner o' her specks; but Sandy never lut dab. His +een, when he hadna his nose buried in his book, were awa' i' the roof +o' the kirk, an' Mistress Glendie never got a squawk in ava, eksep when +Sandy was swallowin' his spittal. +</P> + +<P> +Gaen to the kirk at nicht was something to mind aboot. There wasna a +lamp to be seen—an' sic roads! The very laddies frae the Sabbath +Schule were gaen on the paidmint, whaur there were maist gutters, an' +skowf kickin' them at ane anither. The middle o' the road cudna haud +the can'le to the paidmints for glaur lest Sabbath. Sandy an' me gaed +kloiterin' alang the Port, Sandy yatterin' ilky noo-an'-than—"Keep on +the plennies, 'oman." He was keepin' his e'e on his feet that steady, +that, afore I kent whaur I was, he had baith o's wammlin' aboot amon' +the gutters doon the Dens. He'd taen the wrang side o' the dyke at the +fit o' the High Road, an' awa' doon the brae instead o' up! We saw the +muckle lamp up abune the brig juist like a lichthoose twenty mile awa'. +Sandy was widin' aboot amon' the mud, an' his lorn shune liftin' wi' a +noisy gluck, juist like a pump aff the fang. +</P> + +<P> +"I think this is shurely the Sloch o' Dispond we've gotten intil, +Bawbie," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"It looks liker the Wardmill Dam," says I, I says; "but if I get oot +o't livin', I'll lat the pileece hear o't. A gey Lichtin' Commitee we +have, to hae fowk wammlin' aboot i' the mirk like this on their wey to +the kirk! There's ower muckle keepin' fowk i' the dark a' roond," says +I, I says; "an' there maun be an end till't. It's a perfeck scandal." +</P> + +<P> +Juist at this meenit Sandy got grips o' the railin' o' the stair, an' +him an' me got ane anither trailed up some wey or ither. Gin I got on +the paidmint, I was slippin' here an' there like some lassie on the +skeetchin' pond, till doon I skaikit, skloit on the braid o' my back, +an' left my life-size engravin' i' the middle o' the road. Eh, it was +a gude thing I didna hae on my best frock! I shiftit at tea-time, for +thae gutters mak' sic a dreedfu' mairter o' a body. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a black, burnin' shame," says Sandy, as he gaithered me up; "an' +I howp some o' thae Lichtin' Commitee chappies 'ill get a dook amon' +the gutters the nicht for this pliskie o' theirs. It's a fine nicht +fort. Fowk peyin' nae end o' rates, an' a' the streets as dark as a +cell—a sell it is, an' nae mistak'. Feech! I tell ye, what it is an' +what it's no', Bawbie——" +</P> + +<P> +"Wheesht, Sandy," says I. "Keep me, if ye go on rantin' like that, the +fowk 'ill think ye've startit the street preachin'. Haud your lang +tongue. I'm no' michty muckle the waur." +</P> + +<P> +Sandy took oot his tnife an' gae me a bit skrape; an' we landit at the +kirk an' got a rale gude sermon aboot the birkie 'at belanged to +Simaria an' fell on his road hame, an' so on. I wasna muckle the waur +o't efter a'—o' the fa', I mean, of coorse, no' the sermon—an', when +we got hame, I got aff my goon; an' tho' Sandy gae the Lichtin' +Commitee an' the gutter-raikers a gey haf-'oor's throo the mill, I +didna think muckle mair aboot it. +</P> + +<P> +But, as I was sayin', this was a' leadin' up to something. Sandy cudna +sit still at nicht, an' he sang an' smokit till, atween bein' deaved +an' scumfished, I was nearhand seek. Efter readin' oor chapter, I gaed +awa' to my bed. I lookit up twa-three times an' saw Sandy sittin' +afore the fire, twirlin' his thooms, an' gien a bit whistle noo an' +than. Efter a while he put oot the gas, an' syne began to tak' aff his +claes, an' wide aboot amon' the furniture as uswal. He got intil his +bed efter a quarter o' an oor's miscellaneous scramblin', an' was sune +snorin' like a dragoon. +</P> + +<P> +When I got atower i' the mornin', what is there sittin' on my chair but +a great muckle shortie in a braw box, wi' a Christmas caird on the tap +o't. When I opened the box here's ane o' my stockin's lyin' on the tap +o' a great big cake, juist like this:— +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 2em">To</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 0.5em">B. BOWDEN</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">from a</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">F IEND</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P> +I lookit anower at Sandy, an' here's him lyin' wi' a look on his face +like's he was wantin' on the Parochial Buird. +</P> + +<P> +"Eh, Sandy! What a man you are!" I says, says I; for, mind you, I was +a richt prood woman on Munanday mornin'. +</P> + +<P> +"It was Sandy Claws, 'oman," says he, lauchin'. "He cudna get the box +into your stockin', so he juist put your stockin' into the box. But +it's juist sax an' half a dizzen, I suppose." +</P> + +<P> +I hude up the cake to the licht, an' read oot the braw white sugar +letters—"'To B. Bowden from a Fiend.' But wha's the fiend, Sandy?" +says I, I says. +</P> + +<P> +"Fiend!" roared Sandy, jumpin' ooten his bed. "Lat's see't." +</P> + +<P> +He glowered at the cake like's he was tryin' to mismerise somebody; an' +then he says, "See a haud o' my troosers there, Bawbie. I'll go doon +an' pet that baker through his mixin' machine. I'll lat him see what +kind o' a fiend I am. I'll fiend him." +</P> + +<P> +"Hover a blink, Sandy," says I. "Here's ane o' the letters stickin' to +my stokin'." Shure eneuch, here was a great big "R" stickin' to the +ribs o' my stockin'; so I juist took a lickie glue an' stak her on the +cake, an' made it read a' richt. Sandy was rale pleased when he saw me +so big aboot my cake; an' he's been trailin' in aboot a' the neepers to +see "the wife's cake," as he ca's't. An' he stands wi' his thooms i' +the oxter holes o' his weyscot, an' lauchs, an' says, "Tyuch; naething +ava; no wirth speakin' aboot," when I tell them hoo big I am aboot it. +</P> + +<P> +She's genna be broken on Munanday—Nooeer's-day. If you're pasain' oor +wey, look in an' get a crummie. I'll be richt gled to see you, I'm +shure. A happy noo 'ear to you, when it comes—an' mony may ye see! +Ah-hy! Gude-day wi' ye i' the noo than! Imphm! Gude-day. See an' +gie's a cry in on Munanday, noo-na. Ta-ta! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XVII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AT THE SELECT CHOIR'S CONCERT. +</H3> + + +<P> +Sin' Friday nicht I've been gaen aboot wi' my hert an' moo fu' o' +musik! Eh, hoo I did enjoy yon Gleeka Koir's singin'. I hinna heard +onything like it for mony a day. D'ye ken, fine musik juist affeks me +like a gude preechin'—an' waur whiles. I canna help frae thinkin' +aboot it. The tune I've been hearin' 'ill come into my heid at a' +times; an' here I'll be maybe croonin' awa' i' the shop to mysel' "Will +ye no' come back again?" an' gien somebody mustard instead o' peysmeal, +an', of coorse, it comes back again, an' a gey wey o' doin' wi't, an' +nae mistak'. +</P> + +<P> +But, eh, I enjoyed the Burns Club concert! Sandy an' me was doon at +the hall on the back o' seven o'clock, an' we got set doon at the end +o' ane o' the farrest-forrit sixpenny seats, an' got a lean on the back +o' ane o' the shilliny anes. We was gey gled we gaed doon early, for +the hall was foo juist in a clap; an' gin aucht o'clock, Sandy tells +me, they were offerin' half-a-croon to get their lug to the keyhole. +It was an awfu' crush. +</P> + +<P> +There was a gey pompis-like carlie cam' an' tried to birz Sandy an' me +up the seat; but Sandy sune made a job o' him. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you a ticket?" says Sandy. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, have I," says the carlie, curlin' up his lips gey snappish-like; +"I have a three-shillin' ticket." +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, weel, awa' oot o' this," says Sandy. "This is the sikey seats, +an' we dinna want ony o' you chappies poachin' amon' his lads. If +you've only a three-shilliny ticket, you'll awa' oot o' this, gey +smert," says Sandy; an' a lot o' the fowk backit him up, an' faigs, +mind ye, the carlie had to crawl awa' forrit again, whaur he cam' frae. +The cheek o' the cratur! Thocht, mind ye, he wud get crushed in amon' +his sikey fowk wi' his three-shilliny ticket! +</P> + +<P> +Whenever the singin' began ye wudda heard a preen fa'. "There was a +lad was born in Kyle," juist nearhand garred Sandy jump aff his seat. +He cud hardly keep his feet still, an' he noddit his heid frae side to +side, an' leuch, like's he was some noo-married king drivin' awa' throo +the streets o' London till his honeymune. Syne at "My luve she's like +a reed, reed rose," he smakit his lips, an' turned his een up to the +ruif, an' lookit to me twa-three times like's he was genna tak' a dwam +o' some kind. That used to be a favourite sang o' Pecker Donnit's when +he precentit up at Dimbarrow. Eh, mony's the time I've heard him at +it. Ye'll mind fine o' the Peeker? He bade ower i' yon cottar hoose, +wast a bittie frae the Whin Inn. He had twa dochters, ye'll mind, an' +a he-cat that killed whitterits wi' a blind e'e. Eh, ay; that's mony a +lang day syne! But I'm awa' frae my story. +</P> + +<P> +I cudna tell ye which o' the bits I likeit best. I juist sat nearhand +a' nicht fairly entranced. I thocht yon twa kimmers that sang "The +Banks an' Braes o' Bonnie Boon" did awfu' pritty. Raley, my hert was +i' my moo twa-three times when they were at the bitties whaur they sang +laich, juist like the sooch-soochin' o' the hairst wind i' the +forenicht amon' the stocks. Sandy was sweengin' aboot in his seat, +like's he was learnin' the velocipede, an' takin' a lang breath ilky +noo-an'-than, an' sayin', "Imphm; ay, man; juist that." He riffed when +the lassies sat doon, till ye wud thocht he wudda haen his hands +blistered; but I think he was gled o' onything to do, juist to lat him +get himsel' gien vent. +</P> + +<P> +When the koir startit to sing aboot Willie Wastle, Sandy nickered awa' +like a noo-spain'd foal, an' aye when they cam' to the henmist line o' +the verse he gae me a prog i' the ribs wi' his elba, as much as to say, +"That's ane for you, Bawbie!" But I watched him, an' at the henmist +verse, when they said terriple quick, "I wudna gie a button for her," I +juist edged alang a bittie, an' Sandy's elba missin', he juist exakly +landit pargeddis in a fisherwife's lap that was sittin' ahent's. There +was plenty o' lauchin' an' clappin' whaur we was, I can tell ye. +</P> + +<P> +I likeit "Scots wha hae," an' the "Macgregor's Gaitherin'." I thocht +yon was juist grand. When they were singin' "Scots wha hae," Sandy +glowered a' roond aboot him like's he wudda likeit to ken if onybody +wantit a fecht. What a soond there was at the strong bits. The feint +a ane o' me kens whaur yon men an' weemin' get a' yon soond. At some +o' the lines o' the "Macgregor's Gaitherin'" it was like the wind +thunderin' doon Glen Tanner, or the Rooshyan guns at Sebastypool. I +cudna help frae notisin' hoo it garred a'body sit straucht up. When +yon lassie was singin' sae bonnie, "John Anderson, my Jo," a' the +fowk's heids were hingin'; but at "Scots wha hae" they sat up like life +gairds, and ilky body near me lookit like's it wudna be cannie speakin' +to them. +</P> + +<P> +There was ae thing they sang that wasna on the programme that I thocht +awfu' muckle o'. It was something aboot "Tramp! Tramp! Tramp!" Ane +o' the lassies sang a bit hersel' here an' there, an' eh, what splendid +it was. She gaed up an' doon amon' the notes juist like forkit +lichtnin', an her voice rang oot as clear as a bell. It was raley +something terriple pritty. When she feenished ye wudda thocht the fowk +was genna ding doon the hoose. "Man, that raley snecks a' green thing; +it fair cowps the cairt ower onything ever I heard," says Sandy, gien +his nose a dicht wi' the back o' his hand. "That dame has raley a +grand pipe; ye wud winder whaur she fand room for a' the wind she maun +need." A foll curn fowk startit to the lauchin' when Sandy said this; +but, faigs, mind ye, the lassie fairly astonished me. +</P> + +<P> +When the votes o' thanks were gien oot, Sandy riffed an' rattled oot o' +a' measure. I thocht ance or twice he wud be up to the pletform to say +a wird or twa himsel', he was that excited. Syne when "Auld Lang Syne" +was mentioned, he sprang till his feet, evened his gravat, pulled doon +his weyscot, put a' the buttons intil his coat, an' swallowed a +spittal. An' hoo he tootit an' sang! I thocht the precentor that was +beatin' time lookit across at him twa-three times, he was roostin' an' +roarin' at sic a rate. He sang at the pitch o' his voice— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Shud auld acquantance be forgot,<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">An' never brocht to mind,</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P> +an' syne gien me a great daud on the shuder wi' his elba, he says, +"Sing quicker, Bawbie"— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +For the days o' auld langsyne.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +There was a fisher ahent's that strak' in wi' the chorus an' made an' +awfu' gutter o't. He yalpit awa' a' on ae note, juist like's he was +roarin' to somebody to lowse the penter; an' though Sandy keepit gaen, +he was in a richt raise. +</P> + +<P> +"That roarin' nowt's juist makin' a pure soss o't," he says, when we +finished. "Ye wud easy ken he had learned his singin' at the sea"; an' +he glowered roond at him gey ill-natir'd like, an' says, "Haud your +tung, ye roarin' cuif." Syne he grippit the fisher's hand wi' ane o' +his, an' mine wi' the ither, an' startit— +</P> + +<P> +An' here's a hand, my trusty fraend, eksettera.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +The fisher lookit gey dumfoondered like, an' never lut anither peek; +but Sandy stack in like a larry-horse till the feenish, an' he cam' +hame a' the road sayin', "Man, that's raley been a treat!" +</P> + +<P> +It was that, an' nae mistak', an' as the chairman said, it'll be a +memorable concert to mony a ane. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XVIII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SANDY RUNS A RACE. +</H3> + + +<P> +Weel, I'll tell ye what it is, an' what it's no'—I thocht the ither +nicht that Sandy had gotten to the far end o' his ongaens. If ever a +woman thocht she was genna hae to don her weeda's weeds, it was me. I +never expeckit to see Sandy again, till he was brocht in on the police +streetchin' buird. But I'll better begin my story at the beginnin'. +What needs I care whuther fowk kens a' aboot it, or no'? I've been +black affrontit that often, I dinna care a doaken noo what happens. +I've dune my best to be a faithfu' wife; an' I'm shure I've trauchled +awa' an' putten up wi' a man that ony ither woman wudda pushon'd twenty +'ear syne! But that's nether here nor there. +</P> + +<P> +Weel, to get to my story. Aboot a week syne I was busy at the back +door, hingin' oot some bits o' things, an', hearin' some din i' the +back shop, I took a bit glint in at the winda. Fancy my surprise, when +here's Sandy i' the middle o' the flure garrin' his airms an' legs flee +like the shakers o' Robbie Smith's "deevil." +</P> + +<P> +"What i' the earth is he up till noo?" says I to mysel'. He stoppit +efter a whilie, an' syne my lad quietly tnaks twa raw eggs on the edge +o' a cup, an' doon his thrapple wi' them. He brook up the shalls into +little bitties an' steered them in amon' the ase, so's I wudna see +them. Atower to the middle o' the flure he comes again, an', stridin' +his legs oot, he began to garr first the tae airm an' syne the tither +gae whirlin' roond an' roond like the fly wheel o' an engine. It +mindit me o' the schule laddies an' their bummers. Weel, than; I goes +my wa's into the hoose. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, it's a fine thing an egg, Sandy," says I; "especially twa." I +turned roond to the dresser-heid, no' to lat him see me lauchin'—for I +cudna keep it in—an' pretendit to be lookin' for something. +</P> + +<P> +"It is so, Bawbie," says he; an' I noticed him i' the lookin'-gless +pettin' his thoom till his nose. I whiskit roond aboot gey quick, an' +he drappit his hands like lichtnin', an' began whistlin' "Tillygorm." +</P> + +<P> +"I've heard it said," says I, "that a raw egg's gude for a yooky nose." +</P> + +<P> +"You're aye hearin' some blethers," says he; "but there's Robbie +Mershell i' the shop"; an' but he ran to sair him. +</P> + +<P> +I kent fine there was something up, so I keepit my lugs an' een open, +but it beat me to get at the boddom o't. Pottie Lawson, Bandy Wobster, +an' Sandy have juist been thick an' three faud sin the Hielant games +toornament, an' I kent fine there was some pliskie brooin' amon' them. +They've hardly ever been oot o' the washin'-hoose, them an' twa-three +mair. Great, muckle, hingin'-aboot, ill-faured scoonges, every ane o' +them! I tell ye, Sandy hasna dune a hand's turn for the lest week, but +haikit aboot wi' them, plesterin' aboot this thing an' that. Feech! +If I was a man, as I'm a woman, I wud kick the whole box an' dice o' +them oot the entry. +</P> + +<P> +I gaed by the washin'-hoose door twa-three times, an' heard the +spittin', an' the ochin' an' ayin', an' some bletherin' aboot +sprentin', an' rubbin' doon, an' sic like; but I cud mak' nether heid +nor tail o't. But, I can tell ye, baith heid an' tail o't cam' oot on +Setarday nicht. +</P> + +<P> +Sandy, as uswal, put on his goshores on Setarday efternune, an' awa' he +gaed aboot five o'clock, an' I saw nae mair o' him till the lang legs +o' him—— But you'll learn aboot that sune eneuch. It was a sicht, +the first sicht I got o' him, I can tell you. +</P> + +<P> +I was takin' a bit cuppie o' tea to mysel' aboot seven o'clock, for I +had been terriple busy a' forenicht. Nathan was stanin' at the table +as uswal, growk-growkin' awa' for a bit o' my tea biskit. "I dinna +like growkin' bairns," I says to Nathan, juist as I was genna gie him a +bit piece an' some noo grozer jeel on't. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm no' carin'," he says, blawin' his nose atween his finger an' his +thoom, an' syne dichtin't wi' his bonnet. "I wasna growkin'; but at +ony rate I'll no tell ye aboot Sandy. He said he wud gie me a +letherin' if I was a clash-pie; but I was juist genna tell you, but +I'll no' do't noo," an' oot at the door he gaed. I cried on him to +come back, but, yea wud! +</P> + +<P> +I saw nae mair o' him for half an 'oor, when in he comes to the back +shop wi' a bundle o' claes an' flang them i' the flure. "There's +Sandy's claes," says he. "I got them frae Bandy Wobster at the tap o' +the street. He got them lyin' oot the Sands, an' he disna ken naething +aboot Sandy." +</P> + +<P> +"O, Alick Bowden," I says to mysel', says I; "I kent this would be the +end o't some day! He's gane awa' dookin' an' gotten himsel' drooned. +O, my puir man! I howp they'll get his body, or never anither bit o' +fish will I eat! There's Mistress Mertin fand a galace button in a +red-waur codlin's guts lest week; an' it's no' so very lang syne sin' +Mistress Kenawee got fower bits o' skellie i' the crap o' a colomy. +Puir Sandy! I winder hoo they'll do wi' the bural society bawbees?" +</P> + +<P> +"Is Sandy deid, Bawbie?" says Nathan. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay; I doot he's deid, Nathan, laddie," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"An' will you lat me get a ride on the dickie at the bural, Bawbie?" +says Nathan, clawin' his heid throo a hole in his glengairy. +</P> + +<P> +"Haud your tongue, laddie," says I; "ye dinna ken what you're speakin' +aboot." +</P> + +<P> +I gaithered up the claes. There was nae mistakin' them. They were +Sandy's! The breeks pooches were foo o' nails an' strings, an' as +muckle ither rubbish as you wudda gotten in Peattie Broon's, the +pigman's, back shop. There was a lot o' fiddle rozit i' the weyscot, +an' a box o' queer-lookin' ointment ca'd auntie stuff. But what strack +me first was that his seamit an' his drawers werena there. "Cud he +gane in dookin' wi' them on?" thocht I to mysel'. I cudna see throo't +ava. +</P> + +<P> +I gaed awa' to the shop door juist to look oot, an' I sees Pottie +Lawson, Bandy Wobster, an' twa-three mair at the tap o' the street +lauchin' like ony thing. I throo the key i' the door in a blink, an' +up the street I goes. Pottie was juist in the middle o' a great +hallach o' a lauch, when I grippit him by the collar. He swallowed the +rest o' his lauch, I can tell you. +</P> + +<P> +"What hae ye dune till my man, ye nesty, clorty, ill-lookin', +mischeevious footer?" I says, giein' him a shak' that garred him turn +up the white o' his een. +</P> + +<P> +"Tak' your hand off me, you ill-tongued bissam," saya he, "or I'll lay +your feet fest for you." +</P> + +<P> +"Will you?" says I; an' I gae him a shuve that kowpit him +heels-ower-heid ower the tap o' Gairner Winton's ae-wheeled barrow, +that was sittin' ahent him. When he got himsel' gaithered oot amon' +the peycods an' cabbitch, he was genna be at me, but Dauvid Kenawee +stappit forrit, an' says he, "Saira ye richt, ye gude-for-naething +snipe 'at ye are. Lift a hand till her, an' I'll ca' the chafts o' ye +by ither." +</P> + +<P> +"What bisness hae you shuvin' your nose in?" says Pottie Lawson. +"There was naebody middlin' wi' you." +</P> + +<P> +"Juist you keep your moo steekit, Pottie," says Dauvid, "or I'll mibby +be middlin' wi' you. You're a miserable pack o' vagues, a' the lot o' +ye, to gae wa' an' tak' advantage o' an' auld man! Yah! Damish your +skins, I cud thrash the whole pack o' ye." He up wi' his niv an' took +a hawp forrit. Pottie gaed apung ower the barrow again, an' sat doon +on the tap o' the Gairner, wha was busy gaitherin' up his gudes. +</P> + +<P> +"Come awa', Bawbie," says Dauvid, takin' a haud o' my airm, "Sandy 'ill +turn up yet." So awa' we gaed, leavin' the fower or five o' them +wammlin' awa' amon' the cabbitch, juist like what swine generally do +when they get in amon' a gairner's stocks. +</P> + +<P> +"Sandy's a fulish man," said Dauvid, when we landit at the shop door. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye micht as weel tell me that twice twa's fower, Dauvid," says I. +"Fulish is no' the wird for't." +</P> + +<P> +"There's been some haiverin' amon' them aboot rinnin'; an' Sandy, like +an auld fule, had been bouncin' aboot what he could do," gaed on +Dauvid, withoot mindin' what I said. "Sandy's fair gyte aboot fitba' +an' harryin' an' sic like ploys. Weel-a-weel, Pottie Lawson an' +twa-three mair o' them got Sandy to mak' a wadger o' five bob that he +wud rin three miles in twenty-five meenits oot the Sands, an' they tell +me Sandy's been oot twa-three times trainin' himsel'. To mak' a lang +story short—Bandy Wobster gae me the particulars—the race cam' aff +the nicht. Sandy strippit juist doon at the second slippie on the +Sands yonder. He keepit naething on but his inside sark, an' his +drawers, an' a pair o' slippers, an' aff he set to rin ootby to the +targets an' back. He wasna fower meenits awa' when the lot o' the +dirty deevils—that I shud ca' them sic a name—gaithered up Sandy's +claes an' cam' their wa's in the road, leavin' Sandy to get hame the +best wey he cud. Bandy Wobster gae the claes to Nathan at the tap o' +the street, an' tell'd him he fand them on the Sands." +</P> + +<P> +"But whaur'll Sandy be?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"That's mair than I can tell, Bawbie; but I'll rin doon for the +mistress, an' she'll look efter the shop till we gae oot the Sands an' +see if we can fa' in wi' him," said Dauvid. +</P> + +<P> +Dauvid gaed awa' for Mistress Kenawee, an' I ran up the stair to the +garret to throw on my bonnet, takin' Sandy's claes wi' me. Preserve's +a', when I lookit into the garret, here's the skylicht open, an' twa +lang, skranky legs, wi' a pair o' buggers at the end o' them, wammlin' +aboot like twa rattlesnakes tryin' to get to the fluir. I drappit the +claes, oot at the door, an' steekit it ahent me. I keekit in aneth the +door, juist to see what wud happen. Sandy landit cloit doon on the +flure, an' sat sweitin', an' pechin', an' ac'ually greetin'. What a +picture he presentit! I cudna tell ye a' what he said. There were a +lot o' wirds amon't that's no' i' the dictionar'; an' I can tell ye, if +Pottie Lawson an' Bandy Wobster get the half o' what Sandy promised +them, baith in this world an' the next, they'll no hae far to find for +a sair place. +</P> + +<P> +"Man, gin ye'd haen the brains o' a cock spug," I heard him sayin' till +himsel', "ye michta jaloosed they were to play ye some prank. You +muckle, dozent gozlin'," he says; an' he took himsel' a skelp i' the +side o' the heid wi' his open luif that near ca'd him on his back. In +his stagger his feet tickled amon' his claes, an' he gaithered them up, +an' lookit fair dumfoondered like. He put them a' on; an' gyne—what +think you? Puir Sandy ac'ually sat doon an' claspit his hands, an' I +heard him sayin', "I'm an awfu' eedeit, a pure provoke to a' 'at +belangs me! but if I'm forgi'en this time, I'll try an' do better frae +this day forrit. An' I'll gie Pottie Lawson a killin' that he'll no' +forget in a hurry. He'll better waurro, if I get a haud o' him. I'll +lat Bandy Wobster awa' wi't, 'cause he's no' near wyse, an' he's an' +objeck a'ready." +</P> + +<P> +Juist at this meenit Mistress Kenawee cries up the stair, "Are you +there, Bawbie?" an' I had to rin doon. I tell'd them Sandy was hame a' +richt. Dauvid wantit to see him. But, na na! I keepit what I kent o' +Sandy's story to mysel'; an', puir cratur, I was raley sorry for him. +He gaed aboot a' Sabbath rale dementit like; an', i' the efternune, I +cam' in upon him i' the back shop dancin' on the tap o' a seek o' caff, +an' sayin', "Ye'll poach neen this winter, ye——" an' so on. +</P> + +<P> +Atween you an' me, it'll no' be a bawbee's-wirth o' stickin' plester +that'll sair Pottie if Sandy gets his fingers ower him. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, you cam' in withoot chappin' on Setarday nicht, Sandy," I says, +says I, at brakfast time on Munanday mornin', 'cause I saw fine he +wantit to speak aboot it. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do the chappin' when I get a grab o' Pottie Lawson," says Sandy. +"But I'll tell you this, Bawbie; when I was jookin' alang by the +roppie, tryin' to get hame, it's as fac's ocht, I thocht twa-three +times o' gaen plunk in amon' the water, an' makin' a feenish o't. I +was that angry an' ashamed. But, man, I ran up throo the yairds, +without onybody seein's, an' got in at the skylicht. I'll swag, +Bawbie, I never was gledder than when I cam' cloit doon on my hurdies +on the garret flure. But, as Rob Roy says, there's a day o' rekinin'; +an', by faigs, there'll be some fowk 'ill get the stoor taen oot o' +their jeckits when it comes roond, or my name's no Si Bowden!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XIX. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SANDY REVENGED. +</H3> + + +<P> +I was tellin' ye aboot Sandy's caper oot the Sands, when Bandy an' +Pottie Lawson made sic a fule o' him. We'd never seen hint nor hair o' +them here sin' syne; an' I'm shure they're a gude reddance. But wha +shud turn up i' the washin'-hoose the ither nicht but Pottie! He'd +gotten Dauvid Kenawee to speak to Sandy, an' gotten the thing sowdered +up some wey or ither, an' there he was again, as brisk as a bee. But +Sandy wasna that easy pacifeed. He didna say muckle, but I'll swag he +gey Pottie a neg on Teysday nicht that he'll no forget in a +hurry—nether will Mistress Mollison. +</P> + +<P> +Mind ye, I didna think Sandy was so deep. It was a gey trick. Sandy +was determined to pey aff Pottie in his ain coin, an' he had gotten +Bandy Wobster to kollig wi' him to gie Lawson a richt fleg. +</P> + +<P> +There was a big meetin' i' the washin'-hoose nae farrer gane than lest +nicht; an' efter a fell while's crackin', Bandy startit to speak aboot +mismirizin' an' phrenology, an' that kind o' thing. Bandy tell'd aboot +some o' his exploits mismirizin' sailors, an' took on to show aff his +po'ers on Sandy. Sandy was quite open to lat him try his hand; so +Bandy says, "Has ony o' you lads a twa-shilliny bit?" +</P> + +<P> +There was a gude deal o' hostin' an' heid-clawin' at this question, +ilka lad lookin' at his neeper as muckle as to say, "I've naething but +half-soverins i' the noo." +</P> + +<P> +"I can gi'e ye fowerpence o' coppers, if that's ony use to ye," said +Stumpie Mertin, shuvin' his airm up to the elba in his breeks pooch. +</P> + +<P> +There was a burst o' lauchin' at this, an' Sandy says, pointin' wi' his +thoom ower his shuder, "Less noise, you lads, for fear her nabs hears +us." He little thocht that her nabs—that was me, of coorse—was at +the winda hearin' every wird. Thinks I, my carlie, her nabs 'ill lat +you hear something the nicht that'll garr the lugs o' ye dirl. +</P> + +<P> +There wasna a twa-shilliny bit to be gotten, so Bandy had to tak' the +lid o' a sweetie-bottle an' mak' the best o't. +</P> + +<P> +"Noo, Sandy," says he, "juist grip that gey firm atween your finger an' +your thoom, an' stare at it as hard's ye can. Nae winkin' or lookin' +aboot; an', you lads, be quiet. Noo, lat's see ye!" +</P> + +<P> +Sandy took the bottle lid, an' sat doon wi't in's hand, an' stared at +it like's he was lookin' doon intil a draw-wall. A' the billies sat +roond starin' at Sandy, an' Bandy maleengered aboot, playin' capers wi' +his airms, an' dancin' like some daft man. Ye cudda tied the lot o' +them wi' a string, they were that taen up wi' Bandy's capers. He gaed +forrit efter a while an' pettin' his thooms on Sandy's heid, he says, +in a coalman's kind o' a voice, "Sleep, sleep." +</P> + +<P> +"He's awa' wi't," says Bandy, turnin' roond to the rest o' them. They +were sittin' wi' their moos wide open, an' a great deal mair mismirized +than Sandy, I thocht. +</P> + +<P> +Bandy grippit Sandy by the shuders an' heized him up on his feet; an' +there he stuid, wi' his een shut' an' his airms an' legs hingin' like's +he was dreepin' o' water. Bandy shot up his heid an opened his een wi' +his fingers, an' there was Sandy juist like Dominy Sampson i' the +museum. +</P> + +<P> +"Noo," says Bandy, "we'll touch his lauchin' bump"; an' he gae Sandy a +stob aboot the heid wi' his finger, an' Sandy set to the lauchin', ye +never heard the like. +</P> + +<P> +"Stop him, Bandy," says Stumpie Mertin, gey excited, "or he'll lauch +his henderend." +</P> + +<P> +"Peece, vile slave, or I'll dekappytate ye wi' my skittimir," says +Sandy, glowerin' at Stumpie. +</P> + +<P> +"He thinks he's the Shaw o' Persha," says Bandy, fingerin' awa' amon' +Sandy's hair. +</P> + +<P> +Here Sandy took to the greetin', an' grat something fearfu'. +</P> + +<P> +"Bliss me," says Dauvid Kenawee, "I never saw the like o' that. Is he +ac'ually sleepin'?" +</P> + +<P> +"As soond's a tap," says Bandy, an' he touched Sandy again an' stoppit +the greetin'. "Noo, we'll see what like a job he wud mak' o' a speech +at a ward meetin'," continued Bandy; an' he gae Sandy a slap on the +shuder an' says, "Noo, Mester Bowden, we're at a ward meetin', an' +you're stanin' for the Cooncil. There's Pottie Lawson in the chair, +an' it's your turn to speak noo. Lat's hear ye gie them a gude screed +on the topiks of the day." +</P> + +<P> +Sandy gae a bit hauch, an' swallowed a spittal, an' stappin' forrit a +bittie, began—"Mester Chairman——" He gae Pottie a glower that +nearhand knokit him aff the box he was sittin' on. "Mester Chairman," +says he, "we are gaithered thegither to meet wan anither as fella +ratepayers. If you want a tip-top cooncillor, I'm your man. +Regairdin' this noo kirkyaird bisness, I think it's ridic'lous to spend +the toon's bawbees buyin' buryin' grund for fowk that's no' deid. Time +eneuch to look oot for buryin' grund when fowk's deid. An' lat fowk +bury themsel's, juist as they like. Lat them look oot for their ain +grund, an' no' bather the ratepeyers lookin' oot grund for them. We'll +hae to get oor brakfast frae the Toon Cooncil by an' by, an' it'll a' +go on the rates, that's juist as fac's ocht. A' thing's on' the rates +nooadays, frae births to burals. But I hear wan of my audience cry, +'What aboot the Auld Kirk?' Weel, that's anither question. I think +that the shuner the Auld Kirk's aff the pairis the better. We've +plenty paupirs withoot it. If it canna do withoot parokial relief, lat +it into the puirhoose. That's what they wud do wi' you an' me if we +was needin' on the pairis. What d'ye think o' that? Then there's the +toon's wall an' the herbir. Weel, there's no muckle in ony o' them. +There's hardly ony watter i' the teen, an' there's naething but watter +i' the tither. But mibby if there was a noo licence or twa doon aboot +the shore, there micht be mair traffik i' the herbir. The trustees wud +mibby need to chairge shore dues on lads 'at was landit on the kee +noo-an'-than. They cud be shedild as live stock, altho' they were +half-deid wi' drink an' droonin' thegither. An' noo a wird or twa +aboot——" +</P> + +<P> +Bandy touched Sandy here, an' he stoppit, an' a' the lads clappit their +hands. +</P> + +<P> +Then Bandy gae Sandy a touch here an' there, an' ye never saw the like. +He ate a penny can'le, an' drank half a bottle o' ink, an' I cudna tell +ye a' what. The billies lookit as gin they were gettin' terrifeed at +Sandy, when I noticed him gie Bandy a bit wink on the sly; an' I saw +syne that Sandy was nae mair mismirized than I was. +</P> + +<P> +"There's neen o' ye here 'at Sandy has ony ill-will at," says Bandy; +"we'll see what like his fechtin' bump wirks." Wi' that he gae him a +touch ahent the lug, an' Sandy was layin' aboot him in a wink. "Dinna +touch him, or he'll mittal some o' ye," says Bandy; an' the billies a' +cleared awa' to the ither end o' the washin'-hoose. +</P> + +<P> +A' o' a sudden Sandy grippit an' auld roosty hewk that was lyin' on the +boiler, an' roarin', "Whaur's Pottie Lawson, an' I'll cut his wizand +till him," he made a flee at the door. You never saw sic a scramblin' +an' fleein'. Stumpie Merlin dived in ablo the sofa, an' Dauvid Kenawee +jumpit up on the boiler, an' aff wi' the lid for a shield. Pottie was +gaen bang oot at the door when Sandy grippit him by the cuff o' the +neck. But Pottie sprang oot o' the coat—it wasna ill to get ooten, +puir chield—an' doon the yaird a' he cud flee, wi' Sandy at his tail, +whirlin' the hewk roond his heid, an' skreechin' like the very +mischief. Bandy an' a' the rest cam' fleein' efter Sandy. Pottie took +the yaird dyke at ae loup, an' landit richt on Mistress Mollison's +back, an' sent her bung into the middle o' a lot o' Jacob's ledder 'at +she has growin' in her yaird. She gaed clean oot o' sicht, an' juist +lay an' roared till her man cam' oot an' helpit her into the hoose. +</P> + +<P> +"O, it's the deevil fleein' efter somebody," she said. "An' he has an +auld hewk in his hand, an' I saw the sparks o' feyre fleein' frae his +tail. An' there's aboot sixteen hunder ither deevils at his heels." +</P> + +<P> +On floo Pottie yalpin' "Pileece," "Murder," "Help," wi' Sandy at his +tails, an' the ither half-dizzen followin' up, pechin' like cadgers' +pownies. Pottie gaed clash into Stumpie Mertin's coal cellar, an' +lockit the door i' the inside. Sandy kickit at the door, an' Pottie +yalled like a wild cat. Sandy cam' awa' an' met the ither billies, +an', stoppin' them, tell'd them he was nae mare mismirized than they +were. "I wantit to gie Pottie a fleg, an' I think he's gotten't," says +he. "Him an' me's square noo." +</P> + +<P> +They gaed back to Stumpie's cellar, an' gin this time there were twenty +laddies an' twa pileece roond the door. +</P> + +<P> +"It's Pottie Lawson gane daft," said the laddies to the pileece. "He's +foamin' at the moo." +</P> + +<P> +Efter an awfu' wey o' doin' they got Pottie haled oot o' the cellar an' +hame; an' it's my opinion he'll never be seen in oor washin'-hoose +again; an' I'm shure I'll no' brak' my heart. +</P> + +<P> +But aboot the can'le an' the ink—you mibby winder hoo Sandy manished +to stamack them. I gaed in an' smelt the ink. It was sugarelly +watter, an' the can'le had been cut oot o' a neep an' laid juist whaur +it was handy. +</P> + +<P> +Ye never heard sic lauchin' as there's been sin' the story eekit oot. +Sandy's heid pillydakus amon' them a' noo, an' they think he's peyed +aff Pottie wi' compound interest. It's made Pottie fearder than ever; +they tell me he's been looking efter a job at the Freek bleechin,', so +as to get awa' oot o' the toon for a while. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XX. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SANDY'S APOLOGIA. +</H3> + + +<P> +"Are ye there, Sandy? Sandy, are ye there? Sandy! I winder whaur +that man'll be? He'll gae awa' an' leave the shop stanin' open to the +street, as gin it were a byre, an' never think naething aboot it! Are +ye there, Sandy?" I heard Bawbie sayin' in her bed the ither mornin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, I'm here," says I. "What are ye yalp-yalpin' at? What d'ye want? +I had throo to the cellar to rin for tatties to Mistress Hasties. What +was ye wantin'?" +</P> + +<P> +"See, look! Ye micht pet the pot on the fire there, an' warm that +drappie pottit-hoach brue; an' ye'll tak' it alang to Mary Emslie," +said Bawbie. "Puir cratur, she's gotten her death o' cauld some wey or +ither, an' I think she's smittit her bairnie; for when I was yont +yesterday forenune, the puir little thingie was near closed +a'thegither. Juist poor the brue into the flagon, Sandy, an' open the +second lang drawer there, an' ye'll get some bits o' things rowed +thegither, an' tak' them alang an' gie them to Mary. Turn the +lookin'-gless roond this wey a bittie on the dresser there, an I'll +notice in't if onybody comes into the shop, an' tell them to hover a +blink till ye rin yont to Mary's. Rin noo, Sandy, an' speer at Mary if +she has coals an' sticks, an' tell her to keep on a gude fire. Puir +cratur!" +</P> + +<P> +"Mary's a fell lot better the day, she thinks, Bawbie," says I, when I +cam' back; "an' she tell'd me the nurse had been in an' snoddit up her +hoose till her, an' sortit the bairn. Puir cratur, she ac'ually grat +when I gae her the bits o' things for the litlan; an' tell'd me to +thank ye. She was terriple taen up when I said you wasna able to be up +the day, an' howps ye'll be better gin the morn." +</P> + +<P> +"I think I'm better, but I'm awfu' licht i' the heid yet," says Bawbie. +"Ye micht get the pen an' ink, Sandy, an' send a scart or twa to thae +prenter bodies. Juist say I've taen a kind o' a dwam, but that I'll +likely be a' richt again in a day or twa. An' see an' watch your +spellin'. Gin ony o' the wirds are like to beat ye, juist speer at me, +an' I'll gie ye a hand wi' them." +</P> + +<P> +"A' richt than, Bawbie; I'll do that," says I. "Noo, juist try an' get +a sleep for a whilie, an' I'll go ben to the shop dask an' write a +scrift for you." +</P> + +<P> +So noo when I have the chance, I'll better juist mention that Bawbie +got terriple seek i' the forenicht yesterday, an' she hardly ever +steekit an e'e a' lest nicht. An' nether did I, for that pairt o't, +for she byochy-byochied awa' the feck o' the nicht, an' I cudna get +fa'in' ower. But I didna say onything, for I doot I'm to blame, +although I've never lutten dab that I jaloosed ony thing had happened. +</P> + +<P> +Bawbie was juist gaen awa' to hae her efternune cup yesterday, an' I +was chappin' oot the dottle o' my pipe on the corner o' the chumla, +when it flaw oot an' gaed oot o' sicht some wey. I socht heich an' +laich for't, but na, na; it wasna to be gotten. I thocht syne it had +gane into the fire. But it's my opinion noo, it had fa'in' into +Bawbie's teapot! She was sayin' ilky noo-an'-than, "That tea has a +dispert queer taste, Sandy. What can be the maitter wi't?" I never +took thocht; but when Bawbie fell seek, an' groo as white's a penny +lafe, thinks I to mysel', "That's your dottle, Sandy Bowden!" But I +never lut wink; for, keep me, if Bawbie had kent, I micht as weel gane +awa' an' sleepit on the Sands for the next twa-three nichts. She's a +gude-heartit budy; but, man, she gets intil an awfu' pavey whiles, an' +she's nether to hand nor to bind when she gets raised. But, for ony +sake, dinna lat on I was sayin' onything. +</P> + +<P> +Bawbie's an awfu' cratur to tell fowk aboot me an' my ongaens. Weel, +there's a lot o' truth in what she says, I maun admit; altho' she mak's +a heap o' din juist aboot twa-three kyowows, noo-an'-than. I dinna ken +hoo it is ava', I canna help mysel' sometimes. Man, the daftest-like +ideas tak' a haud o' me whiles—juist like a flesher grippin' a sheep +by the horns—an', do what I like, I canna get oot o' their grips. +</P> + +<P> +For instance, I was gaen up the brae juist the ither nicht, an' the +kirk offisher was stanin' at the kirk door. +</P> + +<P> +"Wud ye bide i' the kirk for ten meenits till I rin hame for a bissam +shaft?" says he. "I've broken the ane I have." +</P> + +<P> +"Oo, ay," says I; "I'll do that." +</P> + +<P> +Weel, man, I wasna twa meenits into the kirk when I windered what like +it was for size aside Gayneld Park, an' I thocht I wud see if I cud rin +fower times roond it in five meenits. I buttoned my coat, an' lookit +the time, an' aff I set up ae passage, ower the pletform, doon the +ither passage, throo the lobby, an' so on. I was juist aboot +feenishin' when, gaen sweesh oot at ane o' the doors, I cam' clash up +again' the minister, an' sent him spinnin' into the middle o' the +lobby, an' the collection plate in his oxter. +</P> + +<P> +"What in the name of common sense is the matter with you?" said he, +gettin' up, an' shakin' the stoor aff his hat. +</P> + +<P> +"Man, ye shud keep aff the coorse," says I, forgettin' for the meenit +whaur I was. "I was tryin' to brak' the record." +</P> + +<P> +"Break the record!" he says, in a most terrible fizz. "If it wasna for +the laws of the country, I'd break your head." +</P> + +<P> +Man, the passion o' the sacket was raley veeshis. He ac'ually spat oot +the wirds; an', faigs, I steekit baith my nivs an' keepit my e'e on +him, for fear he micht lat dab at me. +</P> + +<P> +Juist at that meenit the kirk offisher cam' in, an' the minister +turned, an' gleyin' roond at me gey feared like, said something till +him, an' I heard them crackin' aboot gettin' me hame in a cab. I saw +in a wink what they were jaloosin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye needna bather your heids ahoot a cab," says I. "I'm wyser than the +twa o' ye puttin' thegither; so keep on your dickies. Gude-nicht," +says I; an' doon the front staps I gaed, three at a time, an' hame. +</P> + +<P> +The beathel cam' doon afore he gaed hame, an' speered what i' the world +had happened. +</P> + +<P> +"I was juist comin' oot at the kirk door," says I, "when the minister +cam' skelp up again' me." I didna mention 'at I was rinnin'. "The +cratur drappit i' the flure," says I, "like's he'd been shot; an' then +to crack aboot me bein' daft! Did ye ever hear the like?" +</P> + +<P> +The kirk offisher gaed awa' hame, clawin' his heid, an' sayin' till +himsel', "Weel, it raley snecks a' thing. There's some ane o' the +three o's no' very soond i' the tap, shurely; an' whuther it's me or +no', I raley canna mak' oot." +</P> + +<P> +But what I want to lat you see is that I do thae daft-like things +sometimes, I dinna very weel ken hoo. I canna tell ye what wey it +comes aboot. Is ony o' ye lads ever affekit like that? Man, I've seen +me gaen to the kirk wi' Bawbie sometimes, dressed in my sirtoo an' my +lum, an' my gloves an' pocket-hankie, an' a'thing juist as snod's a noo +thripenny bit, an', a' o' a sudden, I wud hae to pet my tongue atween +my teeth, an' grip my umberell like's I was wantin' to chock it, juist +to keep mysel' frae tumblin' a fleepy or a catma i' the middle o' the +road amon' a' the kirk fowk, him hat, sirtoo, an' a'thegither. What +can ye mak' o' the like o that? It's my opinion sometimes that I was +never meent to behave mysel'; an' yet I'm sensible o' doin' most +terriple stewpid things of'en. It's a mystery to me, an' a dreefu' +dwang to Bawbie. But what can ye do? You canna get medisin for that +kind o' disease! As Bawbie says, I'll never behave till I'm killed; +an' the fac' o' the maitter is, I'm no' very shure aboot mysel' even +efter that. I ken it's an awfu' job for Bawbie tholin' my ongaens; +but, at the same time, if it wasna me, the neeper wives an her wudna +hae onything to mak' a molligrant aboot ava. As the Bible says, we're +fearfu' an' winderfu' made, an', I suppose, we maun juist mak' the best +o't. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +THE END. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of My Man Sandy, by J. B. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</BODY> + +</HTML> + diff --git a/20540-h/images/img-front.jpg b/20540-h/images/img-front.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b6e1579 --- /dev/null +++ b/20540-h/images/img-front.jpg diff --git a/20540.txt b/20540.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ea4ae98 --- /dev/null +++ b/20540.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4371 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of My Man Sandy, by J. B. Salmond + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: My Man Sandy + +Author: J. B. Salmond + +Release Date: February 7, 2007 [EBook #20540] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY MAN SANDY *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: Cover Art--Sandy] + + + + + + +MY MAN SANDY + + +BY + +J. B. SALMOND + + + + +SIXTH EDITION + + + + +SANDS & CO. + +EDINBURGH: 37 GEORGE STREET + +LONDON: 15 KING STREET, COVENT GARDEN + +1919 + + + + +PREFACE. + +These sketches are taken from a series written originally for newspaper +purposes. Revision of them has made their author keenly conscious of +their defects; but Bawbie and Sandy are characters who might be +completely spoiled by improvement. The sketches are therefore +presented as they were hastily "rubbed-in" for serial publication. + +The "foo," "far," "fat," and "fan" of the Angus dialect have been +changed into the more classic "hoo," "whaur," &c.; otherwise the +sketches remain in the form in which they have gained quite an +unexpected popularity amongst Scottish readers both at home and abroad. + +ARBROATH, N.B., + _April, 1889._ + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + I. SANDY SWAPS HIS POWNEY + II. SANDY STARTS TO STUDY GEOMETRY + III. SANDY AND THE DINNER BELL + IV. A TALK ABOUT HEAVEN + V. MISTRESS MIKAVER'S TEA PARTY + VI. SANDY'S SECOND LESSON IN GEOMETRY + VII. SANDY'S MAGIC LANTERN EXHIBITION + VIII. SANDY AND THE RHUBARB TART + IX. THE GREAT STORM OF NOVEMBER, 1893 + X. SANDY AND HIS FAIRNTICKLES + XI. SANDY STANDS "EMPIRE" AT A CRICKET MATCH + XII. A DREADFUL DISASTER IN THE GARRET + XIII. SANDY AND BAWBIE'S SPRING HOLIDAY + XIV. LOVE AND WAR + XV. SANDY MAKES A SPEECH + XVI. SANDY'S CHRISTMAS PRESENT + XVII. AT THE SELECT CHOIR'S CONCERT + XVIII. SANDY RUNS A RACE + XIX. SANDY REVENGED + XX. SANDY'S APOLOGIA + + + + +MY MAN SANDY. + + +I + +SANDY SWAPS HIS POWNEY. + +He's a queer cratur, my man Sandy! He's made, mind an' body o' him, on +an original plan a'thegither. He says an' does a' mortal thing on a +system o' his ain; Gairner Winton often says that if Sandy had been in +the market-gardenin' line, he wudda grown his cabbage wi' the stocks +aneth the ground, juist to lat them get the fresh air aboot their +ruits. It's juist his wey, you see. I wudna winder to see him some +day wi' Donal' yokit i' the tattie-cairt wi' his heid ower the fore-end +o't, an' the hurdles o' him whaur his heid shud be. I've heard Sandy +say that he had an idea that a horse cud shuve far better than poo; an' +when Sandy ance gets an idea intil his heid, there's some beast or body +has to suffer for't afore he gets redd o't. If there's a crank wey o' +doin' onything Sandy will find it oot. For years he reg'larly flang +the stable key ower the gate efter he'd brocht oot Donal' an' the +cairt. When he landit hame again, he climbed the gate for the key, an' +syne climbed ower again an' opened it frae the ootside. He michta +carried the key in his pooch; but onybody cudda dune that! But, as I +was sayin', it's juist his wey. + +"It's juist the shape original sin's ta'en in Sandy's case," the +Gairner said when the Smith an' him were discussin' the subject. + +"I dinna ken aboot the sin; but it's original eneuch, there's nae doot +aboot that," said the Smith. + +There's naebody kens that better than me, for I've haen the teuch end +o' forty year o't. But, still an' on, he's my ain man, the only ane +ever I had, an' I'll stick up for him, an' till him, while the lamp +holds on to burn, as the Psalmist says. + + * * * * * * + +"See if I can say my geog, Bawbie," said Nathan to me the ither +forenicht, as I was stanin' in the shop. He'd been sittin' ben the +hoose wi' his book croonin' awa' till himsel' aboot Rooshya bein' +boundit on the north by the White Sea, an' on the sooth by the Black +Sea, an' some ither wey by the Tooral-ooral mountains or something, an' +he cam' ben an' handed me his geog, as he ca'd it, to see if he had a' +this palaver on his tongue. + +I've often windered what was the use o' Nathan wirryin' ower thae +oot-o'-the-wey places that he wud never be within a thoosand mile o'. +He kens a' the oots an' ins o' Valiparaiso, but michty little aboot +Bowriefauld. Hooever, I suppose the dominie kens best. + +Nathan was juist busy pointin' oot the place to me in his book when +there was a terriple rattlin' oot on the street, an' aff he hookited to +see what was ado. He thocht it was a marriage, an' that there micht be +a chance o' some heys aboot the doors. What was my consternation when +the reeshlin' an' rattlin' stoppit at the shop door, an' I heard +Sandy's voice roarin', "Way-wo, haud still, wo man, wo-o-o, will ye!" + +"What i' the face o' the earth's ado noo?" says I to mysel'; an' I goes +my wa's to the door. Sandy had been up at Munromont for a load o' +tatties. When I gaed to the door, here he was wi' a thing atween the +shafts o' his cairt that lookit like's it had been struck wi' forkit +lichtnin'. + +"What hae ye dune wi' Donal', Sandy?" I speered. + +"Cadger Gowans an' me's haen a swap," says Sandy, climbin' oot at the +back o' the cairt, an' jookin' awa' roond canny-weys to the horse's +heid. + +"Wo, Princie," he says, pettin' oot his hand. "Wo, the bonnie laddie!" + +Princie, as he ca'd him, ga'e a gley roond wi' the white o' his e'e +that garred Sandy keep a gude yaird clear o' him. + +"He's a grand beast," he says, comin' roond to my side; "a grand beast! +Three-quarters bred, an' soond in wind and lim'. I got a terriple +bargain o' him. I ga'e Gowans Donal' an' thirty shillin's, an' he ga'e +me a he tortyshall kitlin' to the bute--the only ane i' the +countryside. He's genna hand it in the morn." + +There was nae want o' soond in Princie's wind at ony rate. I saw that +in a minute. He was whistlin' like a lerik. + +"He sooks wind a little when he has a lang rin," says Sandy; "but +that's nether here nor there. He's haen a teenge or twa, an' he's +akinda foondered afore, an' a little spavie i' the aft hent leg; but +I'll shune pet that a' richt wi' gude guidin'. He's a grand beast, I +tell ye!" + +Sandy stood an' lookit first up at the horse an' then doon at his +cairt. "He's gey high for the wheels," he says; "but, man, he's a +grand beast. He cam hame frae Glesterlaw juist like a bird. Never +turned a hair. He's a grand beast." + +"Hoo mony legs has he, Sandy?" says I, lookin' at the great, big, +ravelled-lookin' brute. He was a' twisted here and there, an' the legs +o' him lookit for a' the world juiat like bits o' crunckled water-hose. +The cairt appeared to be haudin' him up, raither than him haudin' up +the cairt; an' he was restin' the thrawn legs o' him time aboot, juist +like a cock stanin' amon' snaw. "Ye shudda left that billie at the +knackers at Glesterlaw, Sandy," says I, I says. "I'm dootin' ye'll +ha'e back to tak' him there afore him or you's muckle aulder." + +"Tyach! Haud your lang tongue," says Sandy. "Speak aboot things ye +ken something aboot. Wait till the morn. Ye'll see I'll get roond my +roonds an' a' my tatties delivered in half the time. I'll ha'e rid o' +a' my tatties an' be hame gin ane o'clock, instead o' dotterin' awa' +wi' a lazy brute like Donal'. I'll beat ye onything ye like, Gowans +'ill be ruin' his bargain gin this time; but he'll no' get him back +noo. I'll go an' see an' get Princie stabled." + +Sandy gaed inby to the shafts, but he sprang back when Princie ga'e a +squeek an' garred his heels play tnack on the boddom o' the cairt. + +"That's the breedin'," says Sandy, gaen awa' roond to the ither side o' +the cairt. + +"It soonded to me like the boddom o' the cairt, as far as I cud hear," +says I, I says; but Sandy never lut on. + +The brute had a nesty e'e in its heid. It turned roond wi' a +vegabon'-like look aye when Sandy gaed near't. He got up on the front +efter a while, an' ga'e the reinds a tit, an' Princie began to do a bit +jeeg, garrin' Sandy bowse aboot on the front o' the cairt like's he was +foo. Sandy ga'e him a clap on the hurdles to quieten him, but aye the +hent feet o' him played skelp on the boddom o' the cairt, till I thocht +he wudda haen't ca'd a' to bits. Syne awa' he gaed full bung a' o' a +sudden, wi' Sandy rowin' aboot amon' the tatties, an' hingin' in by the +reinds, roarin', "Wo! haud still," an' so on. Gin he got to the fit o' +the street there was a dozen laddies efter him; screamin', "Come on you +lads, an' see Sandy Bowden's drumadairy. By crivens, he's gotten a +richt horse for Donal', noo." + +Sandy didna come up frae the stable till near-hand eleven o'clock, an' +I didna say ony mair aboot his braw horse. I've heard the minister +say, it's the unexpectit that happens. That's aye the way wi' Sandy, I +can tell you. I aye expect that something will happen wi' him that I'm +no' expectin'; so I find it best juist to lat him aleen. + +Next mornin' he gaed awa' gey early to get yokit, an' he took Bandy +Wobster wi' him to gi'e him a hand. It was twa strucken 'oors afore he +got to the shop door wi' the cairt, an' baith him an' the horse were +sweitin' afore they startit on his roonds. Sandy was lookin' gey +raised like, so I lut him get on a' his tatties an' said naething. + +Stumpie Mertin cam' by, an', lookin' at Princie, gae his heid a claw. + +"What are ye stanin' glowerin' at?" says Sandy till him, gey snappit +like. + +"Whaur did ye get that hunger'd-lookin' radger, Sandy?" says he. "That +beast's no' fit for gaen aboot. The Cruelty to Animals 'ill nip you, +as shure's you're a livin' man." + +"Tak' care 'at they dinna nip you, for haein' a wid leg," says Sandy, +as raised as a wasp. "Awa' oot o' that, an' mind your ain bisness." + +"That's been stealt oot ahent some menagerie caravan," says Stumpie; +an' awa' he gaed dilpin' like's he'd made a grand joke. + +The policeman cam' doon an' settled himsel' aboot ten yairds awa' frae +Princie, put his hands ahent his back, set forrit his heid like's he +was gaen awa' to putt somebody, an' took a lang look at him. "That's a +clinker, Sandy," says he. "That billie 'ill cover the grund." + +I didna ken whether the bobbie meant rinnin' ower the grund, or +coverin't efter he was turned into gooana or bane-dust; but I saw the +lauch in his sleeve a' the same. + +Gairner Winton cam' doon the street at the same time, an' the bobby an' +him startit to remark aboot Sandy's horse. + +"A gude beast, nae doot," says the Gairner; "but Sandy's been gey lang +o' buyin' him.' + +"He's bocht him gey sune, I'm thinking," says the policeman. "Gin he'd +waited a fortnicht, he'd gotten him at twintypence the hunderwecht." + +Sandy never lut dab 'at he heard them. The cairt was a' ready an' +Sandy got up on the front and startit. A' gaed richt till he got to +the Loan, when Princie startit to trot. The rattlin' o' the scales at +the back o' the cairt fleggit him, an' aff he set at full tear, the +lang skranky legs o' him wallopin' about like torn cloots atween him +an' the grund. A gude curn wives were oot waitin' their tatties, an' +they roared to Sandy to stop; but Sandy cudna. The tatties were +fleein' ower the back door o' the cairt, an' the scales were rattlin' +an' reeshlin' like an earthquake; an' there was Sandy, bare-heided, up +to the knees amon' his tatties, ruggin' an' roarin', like the skipper +o' some schooner that was rinnin' on the rocks. I'll swear, Sandy got +roond his roonds an' a' his tatties delivered in less than half the +time Donal' took! The wives an' laddies were gaitherin' up the tatties +a' the wey to Tutties Nook; and gin Sandy got to the milestane his +cairt was tume. By this time Princie was fair puffed out, an' he +drappit i' the middle o' the road, Sandy gaen catma ower the tap o' him. + +Donal's back till his auld job! Sandy lost thirty shillin's an' a +cairt-load o' tatties ower the heid o' Princie; an' as for the he +tortyshall kitlin', I've never heard nor seen hint nor hair o't. + + + + +II. + +SANDY STARTS TO STUDY GEOMETRY. + +"Man, Bawbie, I think I'll see an' get into the Toon Cooncil some o' +thae days," says Sandy to me the ither forenicht. "Me an' some o' the +rest o' the chaps have been haein' a bit o' an argeyment i' the +washin'-house this nicht or twa back, an' I tell you, I can gabble awa' +aboot public questions as weel's some o' them i' the Cooncil. I ga'e +them a bit screed on the watter question on Setarday nicht that garred +them a' gape; an' Dauvit Kenawee said there an' then that I shud see +an' get a haud o' the Ward Committee an' get a chance o' pettin' my +views afore them. They a' said I was a born spowter, an' that wi' a +little practice I cud speechify the half o' the Cooncil oot at the +door." + +I hit Sandy blether awa' for a whilie, an' syne I strikes in, "Ay, +juist that, Sandy; but you'll mibby g'wa' an' get that tume saft soap +barrel scraipit oot, an' the wechts gi'en a black lead; an' we'll hear +aboot the Toon Cooncil efter your wark's dune." + +"Oh, but I'll manish that, Bawbie," says he, gey snappish-like; "but +still a man wi' brains in's heid canna juist be setisfeed wi' saft soap +an' black lead a'thegither." + +"Ow weel," says I, "you wud mibby fa' in wi' a fell lot o' baith o' +them, even i' the Toon Cooncil. When you're wantin' a favour, a little +saft soap--altho' it's only scraipins--is sometimes a very handy thing +to hae; an' if you dinna get what you want, you can pet on the black +lead syne. There's a fell lot o' that kind o' thing gaen on, an' nae +mistak'. There's Beylie Thingymabob, for instance--but, of coorse, +that's no' the point----" + +"What I was sayin'," brock in Sandy, "was that when a man's heid's fu' +o' brains, an' them wirkin' juist like barm, he maun hae some +occupation for his intelleck, or his facilties 'ill gie wey. There's +Bandy Wobster, for instance, tak's up his heid wi' gomitry an' +triangles an' siclike, juist 'cause he has some brains in his heid, an' +maun occupy them; an' what for no' me as weel?" + +"Gomitry an' triangles!" says I. "Ye'll mibby be for into the flute +band next, are ye? Weel, I'll tell you this--I ken naething aboot the +gomitry, or what like a thing it is; but if you bring ony o' your +triangles here, wi' there ping ping-pinkey-pingin', I'll pet them doon +the syre; that's what I'll do. I like music o' near ony kind. I can +pet up wi' the melodian or the concertina; but yon triangle thing I +wudna hae i' the hoose. You can tell Bandy Wobster he can keep his +triangles for his parrots swingin' on. We want neen o' them here." + +"Tut, Bawbie, 'oman," says Sandy, "you're juist haiverin' straucht +forrit. It's no' flute band triangles I mean ava. It's the anes you +see in books--a' shapes an' sizes, ye know. Bandy learned a' aboot +them when he was at the sea. Sailors learn aboot them for measurin' +hoo far onywey is frae ony ither wey, d'ye know, d'ye see? Bandy tells +me that gomitry--that's what they ca' the book fu' o' triangles--is a +grand thing for learnin' you to speak; an' he offered to gi'e me a +lesson or twa." + +"That'll be whaur Bandy gets a' his gab," says I. "I think, Sandy," I +says, says I, "that you've mair need to learn something to garr you +haud your tongue. You've nae need for learnin' to speak, weel-a-wat, +excep' it be to speak sense; an' I dinna suppose gomitry 'ill do you +ony guid that wey. It's made but a puir job o' Bandy Wobster, at +onyrate." + +"That's a' you ken, Bawbie," says Sandy. "There's mair in Bandy than +the spune pets in; mind I'm tellin' you. He was tellin's aboot some o' +the exyems in gomitry lest nicht, an', I'll swag, he garred Cocky +Baxter, the auld dominie, chowl his chafts." + +"Exyems!" says I. "Is that the same as exy-oey we used to play at on +oor sklates at the skule?" + +"No, no, no, no, no," says Sandy. "What are you haiverin' aboot, +Bawbie? It's a different kind o' thing a'thegither. The first exyem +is that onything that's equal to the same thing as ony ither thing, is +equal to the thing that's equal to the thing to which the ither thing's +equal, d'ye know, d'ye see?" + +"By faigs, Sandy," says I, "that's waur than exy-oey yet. What was't +you said?" + +"It's as plain as twice-twa's fower, Bawbie, if you juist watch," says +Sandy. "If ae thing is equal till anither thing, an' the ither thing's +equal to some ither thing that's equal to the thing that the first +thing's equal till, then you can easy see that the ae thing 'ill be +equal to the ither, as weel as to the ither thing that they're baith +equal till." + +I thocht Sandy was raley gettin' akinda lichtwecht, d'ye ken, for I cud +nether mak' heid nor tail o' his confused blethers. + +"Keep me, Bawbie, do you no' see through't?" he says, glowerin' at me +wi' a queer-like look in his e'e. "Gie's three bawbees! Look now; +there's thae three bawbees. Weel than, here's twa here, an' there's +ane there. Noo, this ane here is equal to that ane there, an' this +ither ane here is equal to that ane there too; so that, when they're +baith equal to that ane, the teen maun be equal to the tither. A blind +bat cud see that wi' its een shut." + +Sandy set himsel' up like's he'd pey'd a big account or something, an', +gien his heid a gey impident cock to the tae side, he says, "D'ye no' +see't?" + +"See't?" says I, I says. "What wud bender's frae seein't? An' is +that what gomitry learns you?" says I. + +"It is that," says Sandy. "That's the first exyem." + +"Weel," says I, "it tak's a michty lang road to tell you what ony +three-'ear-auld bairn in the G-O goes cud tell you in a jiffy." + +"Ah, but it's the mental dreel that's the vailable thing," says Sandy. +"It learns you to argey, d'ye no' see? If I had a glisk at gomitry for +a nicht or twa, an' got a puckle triangles an' parilelly grams into my +heid, I'll be fit to gie a scrieve on the watter question, or the +scaffies' wadges, that'll garr some o' oor Toon Cooncillers crook their +moos. Wait till you see!" + +"Ay, Sandy," says I, "you'll go an' get the swine suppered an' your +ither jobs dune, an', gin ten o'clock were here, you'll get a coo's +drink, wi' plenty o' pepper in't, an' get to your bed. Thae +washin'-hoose argeymints are affectin' your nervous system, I'm +dootin'. Rin, noo, an' see an' stick in." + +I raley thocht, mind you, the wey the cratur was haiverin', that he +wantit tippence i' the shillin'. + +"I wad juist like you to hear ane o' oor debates, an' you'd cheenge +your opinion," says Sandy. "Bandy promised to tell's something the +morn's nicht aboot the postylate in gomitry. I juist wiss you heard +him." + +"What wud there be to hear aboot that?" says I. "Oor ane's juist the +very same; he's near-hand aye late." + +"Wha?" says Sandy, wi' a winderin' look in his e'e. + +"Oor postie!" says I; "he's aye late. You'll of'en hear his whistle i' +the street when it's efter ten o'clock at nicht." + +Sandy gaed shauchlin' oot at the door, chuck-chuck-chuckin' awa' till +himsel' like a clockin' hen, an' I didna see hint nor hair o' him for +mair than twa 'oors efter. But what cud ye expeck? That's juist aye +the wey o' thae men when they get the warst o't. + + + + +III. + +SANDY AND THE DINNER BELL, + +Crack aboot holidays! I tell you, I'd raither do a day's washin' an' +cleaning', ay, an' do the ironin' an' manglin' efter that, than face +anither holiday like what Sandy an' me had this week. Holiday! It's a +winder there wasna a special excursion comin' hame wi' Sandy's bur'al. +If that man's no' killed afore lang, he'll be gettin' in amon' thae +anarkist billies or something. I tell you he's fit eneuch for onything. + +We took the cheap trip to Edinboro, juist to hae a bit look round the +metrolopis, as Sandy ca'd it to the fowk i' the train. He garred me +start twa-three times sayin't; I thocht he'd swallowed his pipe-shank, +he gae sic a babble. + +We wasna weel startit afore he begude wi' his nonsense. There was a +young bit kimmerie an' a bairnie i' the carriage, an' the craturie grat +like onything. "I winder what I'll do wi' this bairn?" said the +lassie; an' Sandy, in the middle o' argeyin' wi' anither ass o' a man +that the Arbroath cricketers cud lick the best club i' the country, +says, rale impident like to the lassie, "Shuve't in ablo the seat." + +"You hertless vegabon," says I; "think shame o' yoursel! Gie me the +bairnie," says I; an' I got the craturie cowshined an' quieted. + +There was nae mair nonsense till we cam till a station in Fife wi' an' +awfu'-like name. I canna mind what it was, an' never will, I suppose. +The stationmester had an awfu' reed nose--most terriple. + +"Is the strawberries a gude crap roond aboot here?" said Sandy till +him, out at the winda; an' you never heard what lauchin' as there was +on the pletform. The stationmester's face got as reed's his nose, an' +he ca'd Sandy for a' the impident whaups that ever travelled. + +Sal, Sandy stack up till him, though; an' when the train moved awa' the +fowk hurrehed like's it had been a royal marriage. The stationmester +didna hurreh ony. + +Gaen ower the Forth Brig I thocht twa-three times Sandy wud be oot at +the window heid-lang. I was juist in a fivver wi' him an' his ongaens. +Hooever, we landit a' richt in Edinboro. An' what a day! I thocht +when we got to a temperance hotel at nicht that I had a chance o' an +'oor's peace. But haud your tongue! Weesht! I'll juist gie you the +thick o' the story clean aff luif. + +It was a rale comfortable-lookin' hoose, and we got a nice +clean-lookin' bedroom, an' efter a'thing was arranged, Sandy an' me +gaed awa' doon as far as Holyrood, whaur Queen Mary got ane o' her +fiddlers killed, an' whaur John Knox redd her up for carryin' on like a +pagan linkie instead o' the Queen o' Scotland. Weel, it was gey late +when we got back to oor hotel, an' we juist had a bit snack o' supper, +an' up the stair we gaed. We were three stairs up. We had a seat, an' +a crack an' a look oot at the winda, for we saw a lang wey ower the +toun, an' it was bonnie to watch the lichts twinklin' an' to hear the +soonds. + +Twal o'clock chappit, an' we thocht it was time we were beddit. I was +anower, an' Sandy was juist a' ready, when he cudna fa' in wi' his +nichtkep. It was in a handbag o' Sandy's, and he had left it doon in +the lobby. Sandy canna sleep without his nichtkep--no' him! + +"What am I genna do?" says Sandy. He was in his lang white nichtgoon, +and he gaed to the room door an' opened it. He lookit oot, but a'thing +was as quiet's death. + +"I'll rin doon for't," says he; "a'body's beddit. I'll juist rin doon, +an' I'll bring up my umberell an' my hat at the same time, for fear +they micht be liftit. You never can tell." + +Awa' doou the stairs he gaed in his lang nichtgoon, for a' the earth +juist like some corp escapit frae the kirkyaird. He wasna a meenit oot +when I dreedit something wud happen, an' I juist sat up tremblin' in +the bed. + +Sandy got doon to the lobby a' richt; an' a'thing was dark, an' as +still's the grave. He scrammilt aboot till he got the bag; syne he +fand for his lum hat, an' put it on his heid. He got his umberell in +his oxter, an' the bag in his hand, an' then he fand roond juist to see +if there was naething else he had forgotten. By ill-fortune he cam' on +the handle o' the denner bell, an' liftin't, it ga'e a creesh an' a +clang that knokit a' the sense oot o' Sandy's heid, and wauken'd half +the fowk i' the hoose. Sandy took till his heels up the stair; an' a +gey like picture he was, wi' his lang, white sark-tails fleein' i' the +air, a lum hat on his heid, an umberell in his oxter, the bag in ae +hand, an' the denner bell i' the ither, bangin' an' clangin' at ilky +jump. It wudda frichten'd the very deevil himsel'. The stupid auld +fule had gotten that doited that he cam' fleein' awa' wi' the bell in +his hand. + +There was a cry o' fire, and a scream o' murder, an' in half a meenit +the hotel was as busy as gin it had been broad daylicht. Sandy forgot +hoo mony stairs he had to clim', and he gaed bang in on an auld sea +captain an' his wife, in the room below oors. It fair paralised baith +o' them, when they saw Sandy comin' burst in on them wi' his black +tile, his white goon, his umberell an' bag, an' the denner bell. + +"P'leece, p'leece," roared the captain an' his wife--an' Sandy oot at +the door. Awa' alang a passage he gaed, fleein' like a huntit tod. I +heard him as gin he'd been doon in the very bowels o' the earth cryin', +"Bawbie, Bawbie! Oh, whaur are ye, Bawbie?" + +"Wha i' the earth is he, or what's ado wi' him?" I heard somebody speer. + +"Gude kens," said anither voice. "It's shurely some milkman wi' the +bloo deevils." + +"Milkman! What wud a milkman do wi' an umberell, a portmanty, an' a +lum hat?" + +Juist at that meenit Sandy cam' fleein' alang the passage again, an' by +this time a' the fowk in the hotel were oot on the stairs. If you had +only seen the scrammel. They scoored doon the stairs, into pantries, +in below tables; the room doors were bangin' like thunder, an' Sandy's +bell was ringin' like's Gabriel had lost his trumpet. You never heard +sic a din. I saw him comin' leggin' up the stair. The stairheid was +fu' o' fowk, a' oot in their nicht-goons to see what was ado; but, I +can ashure you, when they saw Sandy comin' fleein' up, they shune +disappeared. Six policemen cudna scattered them so quick. He came +spankin' into my room, an' drappit intil a chair, fair oot o' pech. + +"Oh, Bawbie, Bawbie!" he cried, "gi'e's a drink. Tak' that umberell," +he says, haudin' oot the bell to me. "I've been fleein' a' roond +Edinboro wi' naething on but my nicht-goon, an' my lum, an' a' the coal +cairters i' the kingdom ringin' their bells at my tails. Sic a wey o' +doin'! O dear me! I wiss I was hame again! O dear me!" + +"That's no an umberell, you doited fule," says I. "That's the denner +bell you've been fleein' aboot wi' i' your hand." + +Sandy lookit at the bell; an' you never saw sic a face as he put on. +He lut it drap on the flure wi' a clash like a clap o' thunder, an' I +heard a crood o' fowk scurryin' awa' frae oor bedroom door. + +I tell'd the landlord hoo the thing happened, an' next mornin' at +brakfast time you never heard sic lauchin'. A' the chaps were clappin' +Sandy on the shuder; an' ane o' them says--"Ay, man; it's no mony fowk +that tak's their lum hat an' their umberell to their bed wi' them." + +But the auld skipper was the king amon' them a'. Hoo he raggit Sandy +aboot bein' a somnambulashinist or something. + +"When you want to steal a denner bell," he said to Sandy, "carry't by +the tongue, man. It's safer that wey. Bells an' weemin are awfu' +beggars when their tongues get lowse." + +The captain was rale taen wi' Sandy, an', mind you, he hired a cab an' +drave Sandy an' me a' roond the toon. He said he was bidin' in +Carnoustie, and he wadna hae a nasay but we wud come an' hae a cup o' +tea wi' him. "An' if you'll bide a' nicht," he said, "we'll be awfu' +pleased. An' I'll chain up the denner bell i' the dog's cooch juist +for that nicht." + +Ay, weel! it's fine lauchin' noo when it's a' ower. But if you'd been +in my place, you wudna lauchen muckle, I'se warrant. + + + + +IV. + +A TALK ABOUT HEAVEN. + +Sandy got a terrible dose o' the cauld lest week. I never hardly saw +him so bad. He was ootbye at the plooin' match lest Wedensday, an' +he's hardly ever been ootower the door sin' syne. There was a nesty +plook cam' oot juist abune his lug on Setarday, an' he cudna get on his +lum hat; so he had to bide at hame a' Sabbath, an' he spent the feck o' +the day i' the hoose readin' Tammas Boston's "Power-fold State" an' the +"Pilgrim's Progress." Ye see, Sandy's a bit o' a theologian aye when +he's onweel. If he's keepit i' the hoose wi' a host or a sair heid, +Sandy juist tak's a dose o' medicin', an' starts to wirry awa' at +Bunyan or the Bible. He's a queer cratur that wey, for as halikit a +character as he is. + +But we had a kind o' a kirk o' oor ain on Sabbath i' the forenicht, for +Dauvid Kenawee cam' in, an' syne Bandy Wobster; an' they werena weel +set doon when in cam' Jacob Teylor, the smith, an' Stumpie Mertin alang +wi' them. Gairner Winton cam' in to speer what had come ower Sandy, +for he hadna seen him at the kirk. Ye never saw sic a hoosefu'! Sandy +was sittin' at the fireside wi' an auld greatcoat an' a hairy bonnet +on, an' a' the sax o' them fell to the crackin', ye never heard the +like. Ye wudda really thocht it was a meetin' o' the Presbitree--they +were a' speaking that throwither. + +"An' what was the minister on the nicht, Gairner?" I says, says I, +juist to stop them yabblin' aboot politicks, an' a' the like o' that +nonsense on Sabbath nicht. + +"He had twa texts the nicht, Bawbie," said the Gairner. "He took the +wirds in Second Kings, second an' elevent, an' in Luke, nint an' +thirtieth, an' a fine discoorse he made o't, aboot Elijah bein' taen up +to heaven in the fiery chariot, an' comin' again a hunder or a thoosand +'ear efter, juist the same billie as he gaed awa'. He made oot that +we'd meet a' oor deid freends in heaven again, an' juist ken them the +same as though they'd only been awa' frae hame for a cheenge for a +while." + +"I dinna haud wi' yon view o' the thing ava," said Bandy Wobster. "He +wud hae's a' believe that fowk never grow a bit aulder in heaven. The +thing appears to me to be ridic'lous. Elijah, a thoosand 'ear efter he +was taen up, cam' back withoot being a bit cheenged ether ae wey or +anither; that was his idea o't." + +"It's a gey ticklish subjeck," put in the Smith; "but, faigs, lads, I +haud wi' the minister." + +He's an awtu' nice, cowshis man the Smith. Ye wud sometimes think he +was meent for a minister, he says things that clever; an' a body aye +feels the better efter a crack wi' him. + +"Ye see," he gaed on, "I wadna like it to be ony ither wey. Ye mind o' +my little Elsie? Puir lassie, it's--lat me see; ay, it's twal' 'ear +come Mertimas sin' she was taen awa'. Ay, man; an' she taen mair o' my +heart wi' her in her bit coffinie than she left ahent her. A bonnie +bit lassie she was, Bawbie, as ye'll mind. She was juist seven past +when she was taen awa'; an' when I meet her again, I wud like her to be +juist the same bonnie bit lassokie that cam' in wi' her pawlie that +Setarday efternune an' tell'd me she had a sair heid--the henmist sair +heid ever she was genna hae. Ye see, lads, if Elsie was growin' aulder +in heaven, she wud be a woman nearhand twenty gin this time, an' she +wudna be the same to me ava." An' the Smith lookit into the heart o' +the fire like's he had tint something; an' I saw his een fill. + +"That's the minister's wey o' lookin' at the thing too, I think," said +the Gairner; "but I canna juist fathom't, I maun admit." + +"There's something in what the Smith says," said Bandy; "but if there's +to be nae growin' ony aulder i' the next world, there'll be some fowk +'ill hae a gey trauchle. There was Mysie Wilkie's bairn that de'ed +doon there i' the Loan a fortnicht syne. It was a puir wammily-lookin' +cratur, an' was only but aucht days auld when it took bruntkadis an' +closed, juist in an 'oor or twa. Mysie, puir cratur, never kent. She +was brainish a' the time, an' she follow'd her bairnie twa days efter. +D'ye mean to tell me that Mysie 'ill be dwanged trailin' throo a' +eternity wi' a bit bairnie aucht days auld, an' it never gettin' even +the lenth o' bein' doakit, lat aleen growin' up to be able to tak' care +o'ts sel? The thing's no rizzenable." + +"But there wud be plenty bit lassies to gie the bairn a hurl in a +coach," said the Tailor. "I dinna see hoo Mysie cudna get redd o' her +bairn for an' oor noo an' than." + +"But that wud juist be a dwang to the lassies, syne," answered Bandy. + +"That's a thing I've often thocht aboot mysel'," says Sandy; "an' the +only wey I cud mak' it oot was that a'body in heaven 'ill be juist i' +their prime. I've thocht to mysel' that a' the men folk wud be, say, +aboot thirty-five 'ear auld, or atween that an' forty, an' the weemin +mibby fower or five 'ear younger." + +"An' wud they be a' ae size, d'ye think?" says Stumpie Mertin. +Stumpie's a tailor, ye see, an' I suppose he'd been winderin' aboot hoo +he wud manish wi' the measurin'. + +"I canna say naething aboot the size," says Sandy; "it's the auldness +we're taen up aboot i' the noo." + +"Na, na, Sandy; your wey o't 'ill no' do ava," said the Smith. +"There'll be bairns an' auld fowk in heaven as weel's here. Auld fowk +'ill no' get dune or dotal, like what they do i' this world, +undootedly; but there'll be young fowk for them to guide an' advise. +It wud be a puir wey o' doin', I'm thinkin', whaur naebody was wyzer +than his neeper, an' whaur ye wud never hae the chance o' doin' a +freend a gude turn." + +"It's past my comprehension," said the Gairner. "Maist fowk thinks +it'll be a braw place, whaur there'll be nae trauchle or trouble wi' +onything; but I doot we maun juist tak' the Bible for't, lads, an' hae +faith that it'll be a' richt, whatever wey it comes aboot." + +"There's ae thing, though, that I dinna haud wi' the minister in ava," +said the Smith. "I canna thole the idea o' great croods o' stoot men +and weemin daidlin' aboot a' day doin' naething but singin' hymes. +I've often thocht aboot that, an' raley, Sandy, I dinna think I cud be +happy onywey if I didna hae my studio an' my hammer wi' me; for I'm +juist meeserable when I'm hingin' aboot idle. As for singin', I canna +sing a single bum. It's no' like the thing ava for weel-faur'd fowk to +do naething but trail aboot sing-singin' week-in week-oot. It may do +for litlans, an' precentir budies, like Mertin here; but able-bodied +fowk, wi' a' their faculties, cudna pet up wi't for a week, lat aleen +a' eternity." + +Stumpie's an awfu' peppery budy, an' though the Smith leuch when he +made his joke at the tailor's precentin', Mertin got as raised as a +wasp, and he yattered back--"You'll maybe be better aff i' the ither +place, wi' your auld horse shune an' your smiddy reek, ye auld +acowder----" + +"Toot, toot, Mertin; dinna get angry," says the Smith. "It was but a +joke, man. I've nae doot that I wud hardly be i' the right place amon' +angels an' sic like billies. But I tell ye what it is, I maun wirk for +my livin' in heaven as weel's here, if ever I get there. I cud never +pet aff my time gaen aboot doin' naething an' that's whaur I differ +frae the minister." + +"But I think we're tell'd that there'll be mony mansions," says I; "an' +nae doubt there'll be mony kinds o' occupation too. There'll be a +chance for's a' bein' happy in oor ain wey, I'm thinkin'. I only wiss +we was sure we wud a' get there." + +"Ah, Bawbie, lassie, that's whaur you're wyzer than the whole dollop +o's," says the Smith. "We're takin' up oor heids aboot a place we may +never get till; an', I'm thinkin', it'll be better for's a' to stick in +here an' do what's fair an' richt. If we mak' shure o' that, we may +lave a' the rest till a higher hand." + +Mistress Kenawee landit in to see what had come ower Dauvid, an', dear +me, when I lookit at the tnock, here, it was five meenits to ten. We'd +been argeyin' that muckle aboot eternity, that we'd forgotten aboot the +time a'thegither. + + + + +V. + +MISTRESS MIKAVER'S TEA PARTY. + +I'll swag, mind ye, but the men's no' far wrang when they say that +weemin have most dreedfu' lang tongues. Dod, mind ye, but it's ower +troo; it's ower troo! + +Mistress Mikaver wud hae me alang to a cup o' tea lest Teysday +efternune; so I gae my hands an' face a bit dicht, an' threw on my +Sabbath goon, an' awa' I gaed. I fell in wi' Mistress Kenawee on the +road, an', gin we landit, there was a gaitherin' o' wives like what you +wudda seen ony mornin' at the Mossy Wall afore the noo water supply was +brocht in aboot the toon. + +Mysie Meldrum was there wi' a braw noo print frock on. Hand your +tongue! Five bawbees the yaird! I saw the very marrows o't in Hantin +the draper's remmindar winda. But, faigs, Mysie was prood o't, an' nae +mistak. It was made i' the first o' fashion, a' drawn i' the briest, +an' shuders as big's smokit hams, wi' Mysie's bit facie lookin' oot +atween them, like's she was sittin' in an auld-fashioned easychair. +But, of coorse, I never bather my heid aboot what wey fowk's dressed. + +Mistress Mollison was juist as assorted as uswal. She'd as muckle on +as wudda dressed twa or three folk, an' she was ill-cled at that. + +"What'll hae come o' her seal jeckit?" says Mistress Kenawee to me, wi' +a nudge, when we gaed ben the hoose to get oor things aff; but I said +naething, for, the fac' o' the maitter is, I thocht Mistress Kenawee a +fell sicht hersel'. There was a great target o' black braid hingin' +frae the tail o' her goon, an' the back seam o' her body was riven in +twa-three places. An' if the truth be tell'd, I wasna very braw +mysel'. Thinks I to mysel', as I've heard the Gairner's wife say, them +that hae riven breeks had better keep their seats. + +Gairner Winton's wife was there, lookin' as happy an' impident as +uswal; an' Ribekka Steein cam' in juist as me an' Mistress Kenawee were +gettin' set doon amon' the rest. Mistress Mikaver was quite my leddy, +an' was rinnin' frae the teen to the tither o's juist terriple anxious +to mak's a' at hame, an' makin's a' meesirable. I windered that the +cratur didna gae heidlang ower some o' the stules she had sittin' +aboot; but she got through wi' a' her fairlies an' the tea maskit +withoot ony mishap, an' we got a' set roond the table for oor tea. + +Mistress Mikaver had oot her mither's cheenie, an' a braw tablecloth, +o' her mither's ain spinnin' she tell'd's. She has an awfu' hoosefu' +o' stech, Mistress Mikaver; press efter press, an' kist efter kist fu'. +I ashure you, the lass that gets young Alek 'ill no want for providin'. + +She had a'thing in fine order; it was a perfeck treat to sit doon; an' +I noticed a braw noo pentin' o' the scone-baker hung abune the chumla. +He maun hae left a fell feck o' bawbees, for I ashure ye his weeda has +a fu' hoose, an' aye plenty to do wi'. + +Weel-a-weel, we had oor tea, as I was tellin' ye, an' a fine cup it +was. Eh, it's a nice thing a cup o' fresh tea. There's naething I +like better; it's that refreshin', especially if you've somebody to +crack till when you're at it. An', I'll swag, we didna weary for want +o' crackin' that efternune. The Gairner's wife an' Mysie Meldrum are +twa awfu' tagues for tongue; an' some o' the rest o's werena far to the +hent, I'm dootin'. + +"Noo, juist see an' mak' yersels a' at hame," said Mistress Mikaver, in +her uswal fizzy kind o' wey. + +"An', as the auld sayin' is, gin ye dinna like what's set doon, juist +tak' what ye brocht wi' ye," says Mistress Winton, an' set's a' to the +lauchin'. You never heard sic a cratur for thae auld-farrant sayin's; +an' Mysie's no' far ahent. Dod, they pappit ane anither wi' proverbs +juist like skule laddies wi' snawba's. + +"There's Moses Certricht's wife awa' by there," says Mistress Kenawee, +pointin' oot at the winda. "She's a clorty, weirdless-lookin' cratur. +I'm dootin' Moses hasna muckle o' a hame wi' her, the gloidin' tawpie +'at she is." + +"Eh, haud your tongue!" said Mistress Mollison. "The puir man's juist +fair hudden doon wi' her, the lazy, weirdless trail. But it's the +bairns I'm sorra for. Ye'll see them i' the mornin' gaen awa' berfit +to the skule, an' a seerip piece i' their hand, wi' fient o' hand or +face o' them washen, an' their claes as greasy as a cadger's pooch. +It's a winder to me 'at Moses disna tak' to drink." + +"He has himsel' to blame," brook in the Gairner's wife. "She cam' o' +an ill breed. He kent what she was afore he married her. Ye canna +mak' a silk purse oot o' a soo's lug. Eh, na! Gin ye want a guid +sheaf, gang aye to a guid stook." + +"You're richt there, Mistress Winton," said Mysie. "Tak' a cat o' your +ain kind an' it'll no' scart ye, my mither used to say; an' I'm shure +I've seen that come true of'en, of'en." + +"They tell me," said Mistress Kenawee, "that Moses gie's her +seven-an'-twinty shillin's every week to keep her hoose wi'. What she +does wi't it beats me to mak' oot. Mony a mither wud be gled o' the +half o't i' the noo, an' wud feed an' deed half a dizzen bairns on't." + +"But Moses is a fooshinless, hingin'-aboot kind o' a whaup," says I. +"The blame's mibby no' a' on ae side o' the hoose. There's lots o' +your braw billies ye wudna need to follow ower their ain doorstap. +When there's din an' dirt i' the hoose, the wife aye gets the dirdum. +Moses has ower muckle to say aboot the wife. She may be ill, but he's +no' the pairty to saw't like neep seed ower a' the countryside." + +"You're richt there, Bawbie," said Mistress Winton. "I've tell'd Moses +that till's face afore the day. They're scarce o' noos that tells +their father was hanged." + +"He's an ill man that blackgairds his wife, altho' she were the +deevil's sister," says Mysie; an' even Ribekka gae her moo a dicht, an' +whispered to hersel', "Eh, aye, that's a troo sayin'." + +"I'll no' say a wird again' men," said Mistress Mikaver, "for Wellum +was a guid man to me"; an' she took a lang breth throo her nose, an' +lookit up at the picture abune the chumla. "I think I've seen Moses +the waur o' a dram; but he looks a quiet eneuch stock," gays she. + +"He's some like my man," I strak in. "He's gey an' of'en oot aboot +when he shud be at hame. There's no' muckle hertnin' for a woman when +she's left to trauchle day oot day in wi' seven litlans, an' a +thrawn-gabbit footer o' a man juist comin' in at diet times, rennyin' +aboot first ae thing an' syne anither, threapin' that his porritch is +no' half boiled, simmerin' an' winterin' aboot haen to wait a meenit or +twa for his denner or his tea. Moses Certricht's a soor, nyattery bit +body, an' he tarragats the wife most unmercifu' aboot ilky little bit +kyowowy. She may be nae better than she's ca'd. She has nae throwpet +wi' her wark, an' she's terriple weirdless wi' her hoose; but she get's +michty little frae Moses to mend her--that's my opinion." + +"Muckle aboot ane, Bawbie, as the deil said to the cobbler," says +Mysie. "I wudna say but you're mibby richt eneuch." + +"Dawtit dochters mak' daidlin' wives," said the Gairner's wife. "She +was spoilt at hame, afore Moses saw her. Her mither thocht there was +nae lassies like hers, an' I'm shure she saired them hand an' fit. But +you'll of'en see't, that wirkin' mithers mak' feckless dochters. At +the same time, as my mither used of'en to say, an ill shearer never got +a guid heuk, an', I daursay, Moses an' his wife, as uswally occurs, +baith blame ane anither." + +We feenisht oor tea, an' got set doon at the winda wi' oor stockin's +an' oor seams, juist to hae a richt corrieneuchin, as Mistress Winton +ca'd it. Mysie an' me were baith at ribbit socks, so we tried a stent +wi' ane anither. But Mysie's tongue gaed fully fester than her wires, +an' I'd raither the better o' her. She forgot a' aboot her intaks, an' +had her stockin' leg a guid bit ower lang when she cam' to the tnot on +her wirsit. + +"A thochtless body's aye thrang," said the Gairner's wife, as Mysie +began to tak' doon what she'd wrocht. + +"Toot ay," said Mysie. "Gin a budy be gaen doon the brae, ilky ane +'ill gie ye a gundy." + +The twa keepit at it wi' their proverbs till I got akinda nervish, d'ye +ken. They were that terriple wyze, that, as fac's ocht, mind you, they +near drave some o' the rest o's daft. + +"Did you hear tell that Ribekka here was genna get Jeems Ethart?" said +Mistress Mollison to the Gairner's wife, juist to get her on to Beek's +tap. + +Ribekka blushed like a lassie o' fifteen, an' bringin' her tongue alang +her upper lip, she shook her heid an' says, "Juist a lot o' blethers. +Jeems wudna hae a puir thing like me." + +"Ye dinna tell me!" said Mistress Winton, never lattin' wink she heard +Ribekka. "That's the wey o't is't? Imphm! What d'ye think o' that, +na? Weel dune, Ribekka. He's a fine coodie man, Jeems; an' he'll tak' +care o' Ribekka, the young taed. Wha wudda thocht it?" + +Ribekka had her moo half fu' o' the lace on her saitin apron, an' was +enjoyin' the raggin' fine, altho' she was terriple putten aboot, wi' +her wey o't. + +"Better sit still than rise up an' fa'," said Mysie. "Gin I were +Ribekka I'd bide my leen. I wud like to see the man that wud tak' me +oot o' my present state." + +"He wudna need to be very parteeklar," says I, juist to gie Mysie a +backca'; for she was sailin' gey near the wind, I thocht. "When I was +young," I says, says I---- + +"Auld wives were aye gude maidens," the Gairner's wife strak in; an' I +saw I was cornered, an' said nae mair. + +"An' a weeda man too!" said Mysie wi' a grumph. "Better keep the deil +atower the door than drive him oot o' the hoose." + +"'Saut,' quo the souter, when he ate the soo, an' worried on the tail," +was the Gairner's wife's comment; an' Mysie didna like it, I can tell +ye. + +"You wasna in that wey o' thinkin' when Dossie Millar, the skulemester, +used to come an' coort you, when you was up-by at the Provost's," said +Ribekka to Mysie. "If it hadna been for the lid o' the water-barrel +gien wey yon nicht, you michta been skelpin' Dossie's bairns the +day--an' your ain too." + +We a' took a hearty lauch at Ribekka's ootburst. + +"Eh, that was a pliskie," said Mistress Kenawee. "Dossie got a gey +drookin' that nicht. They said it was ane o' the coachmen that was +efter Mysie that sawed the lid half throo; an' when Dossie climbed up +to hae his crack wi' Mysie at the winda, in he gaed up to the lugs. +The story was that Mysie fair lost her chance wi' him, wi' burstin' oot +lauchin' when he climbed oot o' the barrel soakin'-dreepin' throo an' +throo. He never got ower't, for it got oot aboot, an' the very bairns +at the skule began to ca' him the Drookit Dominie. He got a job at the +Druckendub skule, an' never lookit Mysie's airt again." + +"You're grand crackers," said Mysie. "Ye ken a hankie mair than ever +happened; but, the man that cheats me ance, shame fa' him; gin he cheat +me twice, shame fa' me. That's my wey o' lookin' at things." + +This kind o' raggin' at ane anither gaed on for the feck o' the +forenicht, an' we were juist i' the thick o' a' tirr-wirr aboot the +best cure for the kink-host, when the doonstairs door gaed clash to the +wa', an' in anither meenit in banged Sandy in his sark sleeves, an' his +hair fleein' like a bundle o' ravelled threed. + +"Michty tak' care o' me, Sandy," says I, I says; "what's happened?" + +"Aye the mair the merrier, but the fewer they fess the better," says +Mistress Winton. + +"Wha's been meddlin' wi' you, Sandy?" + +But fient a wird cud Sandy get oot. He was stanin' pechin' like a +podlie oot o' the watter, an' starin' roond him like a huntit dog. + +"Fiddlers' dogs and fleshers' flees come to feasts unbidden," said +Mysie; but Sandy gae her a glower that garred her steek her moo gey +quick. + +"What i' the earth's wrang, Sandy," I says, gien him a shak'. + +"Wh-wh-whaur's the g-grund ceenimin, Bawbie?" says Sandy. "There's a +tinkler wife needin' a bawbee's-wirth, an' I've socht the shop heich +an' laich for't." + +"Keep me, Sandy," says I, "is that what's brocht you here? You'll get +it in a mustard tin in the pepper drawer. But wha's i' the shop?" + +"Oo, juist the tinkler wife," says Sandy. + +"Weel, did you ever?" said Mistress Kenawee, haudin' up her hands. + +"No!" said Sandy, turnin' to her gey ill-natured like. "Did you?" + +"That's a type o' what ye ca' your men," says Mysie. "Weel, weel; +they're scarce o' cloots that mend their hose wi' dockens." + +"Bliss my hert, Sandy, she'll be awa' wi' the till atore ye get back," +I said. "Rin awa' yont as fest as your feet'll cairry ye." + +"The fient a fear o' that," Sandy strak in. "I gae the pileeceman +tippence to stand at the door till I cam' back. I'm no' juist so +daft's a' that, yet." + +"An' the tinkler wife wants a bawbee's wirth o' grund ceenimin?" said +the Gairner's wife. "That fair cows the cadger." + +"I'll rin than," said Sandy. "I'll fa' in wi't a' richt noo; ye needna +hurry, Bawbie," he added, as he made his wey oot; an' syne wi' the door +in's hand, he says, "The pileeceman's in a hurry too, ye see. He has +to hurl hame Gairner Winton. He's lyin' alang in Famie Tabert's +public-hoose terriple foo"; an' awa' he floo, takin' the door to ahent +him wi' a blatter like thunder. + +If you had seen Mistress Winton's face! It was a picture. She shogit +her heid frae side to side, wi' her moo shut, as if she wud never +open't again; but efter a whilie she spat oot twa-three wirds, juist +like's they'd been burnin' the tongue o' her. "A dog's tongue's nae +scandal," she yattered oot. + +"Better the end o' a feast than the beginnin' o' a pley," said Mysie. +"We mauna lat onybody get cankered. Come awa' and sit doon, Mistress +Winton. Bawbie's man juist wantit a dab at ye. Dinna mistak' yersel'; +the Gairner's as sober's a judge, I'se warrant." + +But the crackin' wudna tak' the road somewey efter this. There was a +fell feck o' hostin', an' ow-ayin', an' so on; so I cam' my wa's hame +afore aucht o'clock, for I was juist sittin' on heckle-pins thinkin' +ilka meenit Sandy wud be comin' thrash in on's, roarin' he'd set the +parafin cask afeyre. I was gled when I got hame an' fand a'thing in +winderfu' order; although Sandy was gien Nathan coosies i' the shop +jumpin' ower the coonter wi' ane o' his hands in his pooch. It's juist +his wey, the cratur. He canna help it. + +"Was the tinkler wife here when you cam' back?" I said to Sandy. + +"Oo, ay," says he. "I gae her her ceenimin." + +"There wudna be muckle profit oot o' that transaction, efter deduckin' +the pileeceman's tippence," I says, says I. "Hoo did ye no' juist say +that the grund ceenimin was a' dune?" + +"'Cause that wudda been a lee," said Sandy. + +"Weel, ye cud sen ye didna ken whaur it was," says I. + +"That wudda lookit ridic'lous, an' me the mester o' the shop," said +Sandy. + +"Weel, but d'ye no' see that it was ridic'lous to gie a pileeceman +tippence to watch a tinkler wife that wantit only a bawbee's-wirth o' +grund ceenimin," I says gey sharp till him. + +"Better g'ie the pileeceman tippence than tak' the cratur afore the +shirra for stealin', an' mibby hae the toon peyin' a lot o' bawbees for +keepin' her in the gyle, forby railroad tickets for her and twa peelars +up to Dundee. That wudda been fully mair gin tippence," said Sandy. + +Argeyin' wi' Sandy's juist like chasin' a whitterit in a drystane dyke. +When ye think you have him at ae hole, he juist pops throo anither. +Tach! When he's in thae argey-bargeyin' strums o' his, I canna be +bathered wi' him! + + + + +VI. + +SANDY'S SECOND LESSON IN GEOMETRY. + +Wi' a' his foiterin' weys, there's a winderfu' speerit o' independence +aboot Sandy, d'ye ken? He disna care aboot being dawtit by onybody, +especially by folk he disna like. Juist the ither day, for instance, +Sandy was jumpin' doon aff the fore-end o' his cairt. His fit had +tickled in aboot the britchin somewey, an' he cam' lick doon on the +braid o' his back i' the gutter. The bobby was stanin' juist ower the +road at the time, an' cam' rinnin' across wi' his moo wide open. + +"Keep me, Sandy, cratur," he says, "what's happen'd? Did you fa' aff +the cairt?" + +"G'wa an' mind your ain bizness," says Sandy, jumpin' up, an' gien +himsel' a shak. "The cairt's my nain; I can come doon afen't ony wey I +like." + +The bobby gaed awa' rubbin' his chin. "Dod," he saya to Stumpie Mertin +at the corner o' the street "that man Bowden's the queerest jeeger ever +I cam across. He cam' thrash doon on the kribstane there i' the noo, +an' when I ran anower to see if he was ony waur, he juist gae me +impidence, an' said he cud come doon aff his cairt ony wey he liket. +Did you ever hear the like?" + +"He's a queer chield, Sandy," said Stumpie. "There's some folk thinks +he wants tippence i' the shillin', but it's my opinion there's aboot +fourteenpence i' the shillin' o' him. He's auld wecht; mind I tell +you." + +That's exactly my ain opinion, d'ye ken; an' it akinda astonished me to +hear Stumpie speakin' sense for ance in's life. He's uswally juist a +haverin' doit. + +But that's no' what I was genna tell you aboot. Sandy and Bandy +Wobster have had a terriple fortnicht's colligin' thegither. Every +ither nicht they've been ether i' the washin'-hoose or i' the garret; +an' Sandy's been gaen aboot scorin' a' the doors wi' kauk, an' makin' +rings an' lines like railroads an' so on a' ower them. + +"What's this you an' Bandy's up till noo?" I says to Sandy the ither +mornin', juist when we were sittin' at oor brakfast. "I howp noo, +Sandy," I says, says I, "that you'll keep clear o' the eediotikal +pliskies you played lest winter." + +"You can wadger your henmist bodle on that," says Sandy, as he took a +rive ooten a penny lafe. "There's to be ither kind o' wark on this +winter. Bandy an' me's been busy at the gomitry. Man, Bawbie, it's +raley very interestin'. You mind I spak to you aboot some o' the +triangles an' things that it tells you aboot afore?" + +"Weel, look here, Sandy," I says, "I notice you've been scorin' every +door aboot the place wi' your triangles, an' they're juist the very +shape o' the ane Ekky Hebbirn played in the flute band; an', as I +tolled you afore, I'm no' to hae ane o' them aboot the hoose. Preserve +me, man, you'll get as muckle music oot o' the taings, an' mair." + +"Keep on your dicky, 'oman," says Sandy. "You're clean aff the scent +a'thegither. There's nae music aboot gomitry triangles ava. They've +naething to do wi' music. They're for measurin' an' argeyin' oot +things till a conclusion. Flute bands! Sic a blether o' nonsense. I +maun lat you see the triangle book. We was haen a bit rin ower the +exyems again lest nicht juist. Noo, juist to gie you an idea, Bawbie! +You mind I tell'd you the exyem aboot things bein' equal to ane anither +when they're equal to some ither thing that's equal to the things that +are equal to ane anither?" + +"I mind aboot you haiverin' awa' some nonsense o' that kind," says I; +an', as fac's ocht, I cud hardly haud frae lauchin' at the droll look +on Sandy's face. + +"Weel," he gaed on, "that was the first exyem; the henmist is that the +whole is greater than its pairt. That means, d'ye see, for instance, +that my cairt's bigger gin the trams." + +"Hoo d'ye mak' that oot?" says I. "Michty me, man, if the trams were +nae bigger gin the cairt, hoo wud Donal' get in atween them? The +thing's ridic'lous." + +"You're no' seein't," says Sandy. "Tak' the back door o' the cairt, +for instance. The back door's only a bit o' the cairt, isn't? Weel, +than, shurely the cairt's bigger than the back door." + +"You're haiverin' perfeck buff," says I. "The back door's juist exakly +the same size as the cairt, or you wud never get it fessend on. Ony +bairn kens that, gomitry or no gomitry." + +"Bliss my hert, Bawbie," says Sandy, gettin' akinda peppery, "shurely +to peace a scone's bigger than a bit o' a scone." + +"There's nae doot aboot that," says I, "if the scone that you have a +bit o' is nae bigger gin the scone that's bigger gin the bit o' the +ither ane." + +"That's teen for grantit, of coorse," says Sandy. + +"But I dinna see hoo that mak's ony difference to the back door o' the +cairt," says I, I says. + +Sandy took a gey wild-like bite at his row, an gae twa-three o' his +chuck-chucks, an' then he says, "Man, Bawbie, you weemin fowk have nae +rizzenin' faculty. Naebody wi' ony logic wud need twa looks to see +brawly that onything's bigger than a bit o't, or, as the book says, +that the whole's greater than its pairt. That's self-evident. Tak' +the Toon Cooncil, say. It's shurely bigger than ony ane o' the +Cooncillers." + +"Is't na?" I brook in gey quick. "Juist you speer at Bailie +Thingymabob, an' you'll shune find oot whuther he thinks the Toon +Cooncil or him the biggest o' the twa." + +"Auch, Bawbie; you're no wirth argeyin' wi'," says Sandy. "You've aye +sic a desjeskit wey o' lookin' at things. What's the sense o' +bletherin' aboot Bailie Thingymabob? Preserve me! if he's only an +echteent pairt o' the Toon Cooncil, shurely common sense 'ill lat you +see that the Toon Cooncil's bigger than he is. Ony bit loonie in the +tower-penny cud see that in a blink." + +"Very weel," says I; "juist speer at Bailie Thingymabob himsel'. I'll +swag, if you tell him he's only an echteent pairt o' the Toon Cooncil, +he'll be dealin' wi' anither tattie man gin neist mornin'. Sandy, +loonikie, your exyems may do amon' your triangles an' sic like +fyke-facks an' kyowows, but they're a' blethers you see brawly ony +ither wey." + +What a raise Sandy got intil! He was that kankered that he took twa or +three ill-natured rives o' a shreed o' breed, an' a gullar o' tea, an' +fair stankit himsel'. It gaed doon the wrang road, an' Sandy was +nearhand chokit. + +"Sairs me richt for argey-bargeyin' wi' a doited cratur that canna see +a thing that's as plen's a pikestaff," he says, efter he had gotten his +nose blawn. Syne he cowshined doon a bittie, an' says, wi' a bit +snicker o' a lauch, "I maun hae you tried wi' the pond's ass anowerim." + +"An wha micht he be?" says I. + +"That's the fift proposition, Bawbie," says Sandy. "It's ca'ed the +pond's ass anowerim. That's Latin for the cuddy's brig. If you canna +get ower't, you're set down for an ass." + +"Have you been ower't, Sandy?" I says, says I. + +"No' yet," he says, never lattin' wink that he noticed the dab I had at +him; "but I'm beginnin' to see throo't, I think. Gin I had anither +glisk or twa at her I'll be on the richt side o' her, I'se wadger." + +Fient a glint o' sense cud I see in Sandy's palaver; so I says, says +I--"What is this fift proposition you're haiverin' aboot?" + +"Weel, it's juist this," says Sandy; an' he began to mak' a lot o' +fairlies wi' his finger amon' the floor aff the rows on the table. +"Look sae, there's what ye ca' a soshilist triangle. Weel, you see the +twa corners at the doon end o' her hare? They're juist the very +marrows o' ane anither; an' if you cairry the lines at the side o' them +here a bit farrer doon, an' get in ablo the boddam o' the triangle, +ye'll find that the corners aneth the boddam are juist the very marrows +o' ane anither too. D'ye see?" + +"Ay, Sandy," I says, says I, "you'll better awa' an get Donal' yokit. +I dinna ken what use thae soshilist triangles an' ither feelimageeries +like hen's taes are genna be to you, but I howp they'll no' be learnin' +ye to gie fowk jimp wecht, or it'll juist be the ruin o' your trade. +I've nae objections to you haein' a hobby; but shurely you cud get a +better ane gin a lot o' thae blethers o' Bandy Wobster's. Get ane o' +thae snap-traps, or whativer ye ca' them, for takin' photographs; get +on for the fire brigade or the lifeboat, join the Rifles or something. +There wud be some sense in the like o' that. But fykin' an' scutterin' +awa' amon' exyems, as you ca' them, an' triangles, an' a puckle things +like laddies' girds and draigons, that nae livin' sowl cud mak' ether +eechie or ochie o'----Feech! I wudna be dodled wi' them; juist a lot +o' laddie-paddie buff." + +Sandy jamp aff his seat an', rammin' on his hat, gaed bang throo the +shop, yatterin', "Auch, haud your gab; that claikin' tongue o' yours +mak's me fair mauchtless. I micht as weel argey wi' the brute beast i' +the swine-crue till I was black i' the face." An' oot at the door he +gaed, halin't to ahent him wi' a bang that garred the very sweetie +bottles rattle. + + + + +VII. + +SANDY'S MAGIC LANTERN EXHIBITION. + +I was juist gaen oot at the back door on Wednesday nicht last week when +I hears some crackin' gaen on i' the washin'-hoose, an' I lookit in to +see wha was there. + +"Man, that's juist the very dollop," says Sandy, as I lifted the sneck. + +Dauvid Kenawee an' Bandy Wobster an' him were stravagin' roond aboot +the place wi' a fitrool an' a bawbee can'le, an' I saw immidintly that +there was something i' the wind. I was juist clearin' my throat to lat +them ken there was to be nae mair o' their conspiracies in my +washin'-hoose, when Dauvid slippit in his wird afore me. + +"Come awa, Bawbie," he saya, says he, in his uswal quiet wey. "We were +juist seein' aboot whuther we micht hae a bit magic lantern exhibition +here on Setarday nicht. I have a class at the Mission Sabbath Schule, +ye see, an' I was genna hae them at a cup o' tea on Setarday, an' I +thocht o' gien them a bit glisk o' the magic lantern. Robbie Boath, +the joiner, has a lantern he's genna gie's the len' o', an' Sandy here +thinks he can wirk the concern a' richt." + +"I've nae objection to onything o' that kind, whaur gude's genna be +done," says I. "But it's no' nane o' your electric oxey hydropathic +kind o' bisnesses, is't? I winna lippen Sandy wi' onything o' that +kind, for I tell ye----" + +"Dinna you bather yoursel, Bawbie," brook in Sandy. "This is a parafin +lantern; juist as easy wrocht as your washin' machine there." + +"Ay weel, Sandy," says I, "gin ye get on wi' your magic lantern as +weel's ye generally manish wi' the washin' machine, when I'm needin' a +hand o' ye, I'll swag Dauvid's bairns 'ill no' be lang keepit." + +"Tach, Bawbie, you're aye takin' fowk aff wi' your impidence," says +Sandy, gey ill-natured like. + +But Dauvid an' Bandy juist took a bit lauch at him. + +Weel, than, to mak' a lang story short, Setarday nicht cam', and the +magic lantern wi't. Dod, but Sandy had a gey efternune o't. He was +steerin' aboot, carryin' in soap boxes for seats to the bairns, an' +learnin' up his leed aboot the pictures, an' orderin' aboot Nathan; ye +never heard the like! I heard him yatterin' awa' till himsel' i' the +back shop, "The great battle o' Waterloo was fochen in echteen fifteen +atween the English an' the French, an' Bloocher landit on the scene +juist as Wellinton was gien the order--Tuts, ye stupid blockheid, +Nathan, that saft-soap barrel disna gae there--'Up gairds an' at +them.'" He gaed on like this for the feck o' the efternune, an' even +in the middle o' his tea, when I speered if it was het eneuch, he +lookit at me akinda ravelled like, and says, "Although ye was startin' +for that star the day you was born, stride-legs on a cannon ball, ye +wudna be there till ye was mair than ninety 'ear auld." + +"Wha's speakin' aboot stars?" says I; "I'm speerin' if your tea's het +eneuch?" + +"O, ay, yea, I daursay; it's a' richt," says Sandy. "I was mindin' +aboot Sirias, the nearest fixed star, ye ken. I winder what it's fixed +wi'?" + +Seven o'clock cam' roond, an' Dauvid's bairns gaed throo oor entry +like's they'd startit for Sandy's fixed star. They wudda gane through +the washin'-hoose door if it hadna happened to be open. I had +forgotten aboot them at the time; but, keep me, when they cam' oot o' +Dauvid's efter their tea, I floo to the door. I thocht it was somebody +run ower. + +Sandy had on his sirtoo an' his lum gin this time, an' he was gaen +about makin' a terriple noise, blawin' his nose in his Sabbath hankie, +an' lookin', haud your tongue, juist as big's bull beef. He gaed into +the washin'-hoose to cowshin the laddies, for they were makin' a +terriple din. + +"Now, boys an' loons--an' lassies, I mean," says Sandy, "there must be +total nae noise ava, or the magic lantern 'ill no wirk." + +"Hooreh! Time's up!" roared a' the laddies thegither; an' they +whistled, an' kickit wi' their feet till you wudda thocht they wud haen +my gude soap boxes ca'd a' to crockineeshin. + +Dauvid appeared to tak' the whole thing as a maitter o' coorse, an' +when I speered if this was juist their uswal, "Tuts ay," says he, "it's +juist the loons in the exoobrians o' their speerits, d'ye know, d'ye +see." + +Thinks I to mysel', thinks I, I wud tak' some o' that exoobrians oot o' +them, gin I had a fortnicht o' them. A Sabbath class! It was mair +like a half-timers' fitba' club. But, of coorse, it's no' ilka day +they see a magic lantern. + +Mistress Kenawee, an' Mistress Mollison an' her man, the Gairner, an' +the Smith, an' I cudna tell ye hoo mony mair, had gotten wind o't, an' +the washin'-hoose was as foo as cud cram. There was a terriple +atramush amon' the laddies when the can'le was blawn oot, an' syne +Sandy strak a spunk an' lichtit his lantern, an', efter a fell lot o' +fykin', he got her into order. + +Sandy gae a keckle o' a host, an' syne he says, "Now, boys an' girls +an' people, the first picture I'm genna show you is Danyil in the den +o' lions. There he is sae!" an' he shot in the picture. + +It was an awfu' queer-like picture. I cud nether mak' heid nor tail +o't. It was a' juist akinda greenichy-yallichy like, like's somebody +had skelt a pottal o' green-kail or something on the sheet whaur the +picture was. + +"I'm dootin' there's something wrang wi' the fokis," says Bandy Wobster. + +"Juist you look efter your ain fokis, Bandy," says Sandy, gey peppery +weys, "an' lat ither fowk's fokises aleen." + +"Are ye share you're richt wi' the picture?" Dauvid Kenawee speered. + +"There's naething wrang wi' the picture," says Sandy. "Ye see that +kind o' a broon bit doon at the fit there? That's ane o' Danyil's +feet." + +"Look the number o' the slide, Sandy," said Bandy, "an' mak' shure +you're richt. They're mibby oot o' order." + +"You're oot o' order," said Sandy, as angry as a wasp. "Haud that lum +hat, Bawbie!" he says; an' he oot wi' the picture, an' roars +oot--"Number 2217! Look up 2217, Nathan, i' the book there, an' see +what it says." + +Efter kirnin' aboot amon' the leaves o' his book for a meenit or twa, +Nathan got up his nose to the moo o' the lantern an' read oot--"A slice +o' a drunkard's liver." + +"What d'ye say?" says Sandy. "Lat's see't." + +"A slice o' a drunkard's liver," says Nathan again. + +Sandy grippit the book, an' efter a meenit, he says, "Ay, man; so +you're richt. There's been some mixin' amon' the pictures. This is a +slice or section o' a drunkard's liver," he continued, "showin' the +effeks o' alcohol." + +The laddies hurraed the drunkard's liver like onything, an' this gae +Sandy time to get his breath, an' to dicht the sweit aff his face. + +"That's the kind o' a liver ye'll get if you're drunkards," said Sandy. +"The action o' the alcohol dejinerates the tishie until the liver +becomes akwilly ransed, an' the neebriate becomes a total wreck." At +this the laddies an' lassies clappit their hands like a' that. + +"See that ye never get a drunkard's liver," said Sandy in a solemn +voice; an' ane o' Dauvid's laddies says, "By golly, I wudna like a +sowser o' a liver like that, onywey," an' set a' the rest a-lauchin'. + +"Attention!" shouted Dauvid till his class; an' Bandy Wobster--wha was +busy glowerin' at the drunkard's liver, an' windrin' what like his ain +was, nae doot--strak in, without kennin', wi' "Shoulder arms!" an' the +laddies roared an' leuch till you wud actually thocht they wudda +wranged themsel's. Gin they stoppit, Sandy had fa'in' in wi' Danyil, +an' there he was, glowerin' at's a', life-size, an' twenty lions +wirrin' a' roond aboot him. + +Sandy tell'd the story aboot Danyil, an' hoo he was flung in amon' the +lions for no' bein' a vegabon'; an' faigs, mind ye. Sandy got on +winderfu'. The laddies paid fine attention, an' ye cudda heard a preen +fa'in' when Sandy was speakin'. + +"There's no' nae lions' dens nooadays, ye see," say Sandy, to feenish +up wi'. "What is't they do wi' creeminals or notorious fowk noo?" + +"Pet them on for Toon Cooncillers," said ane o' the biggest o' Dauvid's +laddies; an' Bandy Wobster lut oot a great ballach o' a lauch, an' +roared at the pitch o' his voice--"Confoond it! Feech! I've swallowed +a bit tobacco!" + +Then there were pictures o' Joseph an' Moses, an' a great lot mair +Bible characters, the loons roarin' oot the names generally afore the +pictures were half in sicht. They were roid loons, an' nae mistak', +but I can tell ye they had the Bible at their finger nebs. Dauvid was +as prood's Loocifer aboot the laddies answerin' so smert; but Sandy +hardly liked it. + +They had a' the Bible stories as dare's dare cud be, an' whenever ony +picture appeared they had a' the story roared to ane anither afore +Sandy got his fokis putten into order. Bible knowledge is a grand +thing, nae doot; but the laddies fair took Sandy's job ower his heid; +an' he hardly liked it, as ye'll readily understan'. + +But the local characters gae Sandy a better chance, an', I ashure you, +he took full advantage o't. He gae a lang laberlethan aboot some o' +the pictures--keep me, if he'd carried on like yon at ilky picture, he +wudna been dune when the forenune bells wudda been ringin' for the kirk +next day. + +"I have noo some kapital pictures o' auld Arbroathians to show you," +said Sandy to the bairns "the reg'lar rale Reed Lichties. An' I howp +the laddies here 'ill tak' a lesson frae them, an' stick in an' get +their pictures in magic lanterns efter they're deid too, an' get great +big mossyleeums--that's thae great muckle sowsers o' gravesteens, juist +like mill stalks, ye ken--oot in the Warddykes Cemetery, wi' their +names chiseled on them in gold letters." + +The loons riffed an' clappit their hands at this like's they were a' +wishin' they were deid an' buried ablo a big gravesteen. + +Efter a lot o' palaver, Sandy shot in his first local picture. + +"This is Provost---- What was his name again? Be was wint to be a +great lad at---- Man, what's his name again, Bandy?" says he. + +"I dinna ken, Sandy," said Bandy; "but it strik's me you have him into +the lantern upside doon. He's stanin' on his heid." + +"He was a gey upside-doon character, at ony rate," said the Smith. "He +was juist aboot as muckle use the tae wey as the tither." + +Sandy got his Provost putten richt; but some o' the rest o' his +notables were juist as pranky. They cam' in backside-foremost, +upside-doon, lying alang the floor--ye never saw the like--until Sandy +was near-hand at the swearin'. "Confoond thae Provosts and Bailies," +says he, "I never saw sic a set." + +"Ow, ow, Sandy," says I, "ye needna get angry at thae bodies; they're +a' deid." + +"Ay weel, we'll hae a whup at some o' the livin' anes," says Sandy. +"Gie me up some o' thae slides in the green box," he cries to Nathan. +"Whaur hae ye putten the Provosts an' the Bailies?" + +"I have them a' in my breeks' pooch," says Nathan. "They're a' richt." + +"An' whaur's the drunkard's liver?" + +"O, I laid it on the boiler-heid, alang wi' Danyil an' some mair." + +"See an' no' be mixin' them than," said Sandy, shovin' in another +slide. "This, as you'll easily recognise, is Bailie Thingymabob." + +The laddies gae the Bailie a roond o' applause, an' Bandy Wobster says, +"Man, but he's awfu' indistink, Sandy. Ye can hardly mak' him oot." + +"That's no' to be windered at," says Sandy. "I never fell in wi' +onybody that cud mak' him oot. Ye canna expeck a magic lantern to do +what ye canna do yersel'. It'll be a bad job for the Bailie, I can +tell you, when fowk begin to mak' him oot. The next picture is +Cooncillor Spinaway." + +"Ay, I'll go doon the yaird an' hae a reek," says Bandy, gettin up frae +his seat, an' settin' a' the loons a-lauchin'. + +"Ye needna gae awa' i' the noo," says Dauvid. "Wait till you see the +rest o' the pictures." + +"Dinna mistak' yersel'," says Bandy in laich, "when that cove's gotten +on his feet he'll no' sit doon for half an 'oor. I never saw him get +up yet but he gae a'body mair than their sairin' o' sooage, an' +main-drains, an' gas-warks, an' so on afore he feenisht. Wait till you +see." + +"Haud your haiverin' tongue," said Sandy. "Bliss your heart, he's in +the magic lantern. He canna speak there." + +"I daursay you're richt," says Bandy, clawin' his heid. "Weel, the +Provost shud juist keep a magic lantern handy, an' gar him bide in't. +That wud keep him quiet at the meetin's." + +"We'll lat ye see a picture o' the whole Toon Cooncil, noo," said +Sandy; an' in cam' the picture. "There's been some mair mixin' again," +said Sandy, gey kankered like. "That's shurely no' the Toon Cooncil. +What's number echteen, Nathan?" + +"The pleg o' locusts in Egypt," says Nathan. + +"Hoo's that gotten in there, ava?" says Sandy. + +"O, they'd juist putten't amon' the ither plegs," brook in Bandy +Wobster. + +"Here's a very interestin' slide," says Sandy, as he put in the next +picture. "This is a picture o' the deputation that waited on some o' +the members o' the Toon Cooncil at lest election an' priggit wi' them +to bide in, altho' they were awfu' anxious to hae dune wi't." + +"That's like a picture o' a bunghole withoot a barrel roond it," said +ane o' Dauvid's laddies. + +"There's naebody there, Sandy," said Bandy Wobster. + +"Ay, but that's the deputation tho'," said Sandy. "They're mibby +inveesible, but that's them for a' that. The name's on the picture. +You can look yersel', if you dinna believe me." + +"Ay, Pepper's Ghost!" roars oot the Smith. "He waits on lots o' fowk +aboot election times. He's juist a perfeck scunner, nominatin' fowk +against their will, an' draggin' them into publicity when they wud far +raither be kickin' up some ither kind o' a row." + +He's an awfu' haiverin' body the Smith sometimes. When he's sensible, +he's juist akinda ridic'lously sensible; an' when he's' no', he's juist +as far the ither wey. + +"Deputations is aye anonimous," says Sandy. "They aye turn up wi' a +nomdy plum. It's juist the men's modesty that keeps them oot o' sicht. +They pey a' their veesits throo the nicht, an' fient a cratur kens +eechie or ochie aboot them. Man, I like modesty. I've a great respeck +for a deputation that keeps oot o' sicht." + +"C'wa wi' some mair pictures," roared some o' the laddies, an' Sandy's +grand perrygrinashin ended a' o' a sudden. + +"The next picture is a very interestin' ane," said Sandy, efter he'd +gotten a breath. "This is ane o' the famous meal mobs. You see the +crood o' men, sae, they're a' roarin' thegither. There's neen o' you +loons 'ill mind o' the meal mobs," said Sandy, "but I mind o' them +fine. A gey toon it was i' thae days. You'll notice the auld +Toon-Clark i' the middle there, wi' his hands up, threatenin' to send +for the pileece, an' a' the crood yalpin' at him like as mony dogs. I +can tell you loons, ye may thank your stars that you wasna born when +wey-o'-doin's like that was carried on i' the toon. You dinna ken +naethin' aboot it. There's been naethin' like it i' the toon o' +Arbroath sin'----" + +"Hold on, Sandy," roared Nathan; "that's the wrang picture you have in +again; here's the meal mob here. Look an' see what's on that ane." + +"A Presbitree Meetin'!" read oot Sandy; an' you wudda thocht the Smith +an' Bandy Wobster were genna ding doon the hoose wi' their noise an' +roarin' an' lauchin'. + +"I thocht they were gey black-lookin' gentry for a meal mob," says the +Smith; an' Bandy nodded his heid an' leuch, an' says, "Man, Sandy's a +perfeck genius as fac's ocht, I hinna heard onything like him." + +I hinna time to tell you aboot a' the rest o' the exhibition. It was a +treat in mair weys than ane. Sandy lut's see a lot o' notables like +Mester Gladstone, an' Blind Hewie, an' Steeple Jeck, an' the Prince o' +Wales, an' Burke an' Hair, an' the Jook o' Argile, an' Dykin Elshinder. +But the crooner o' them a' cam' when Sandy says--"Noo, here's +Snakimupo, the famous king o' the Cannibal Islands, an' his favourite +squaw, that eats missionaries, an' Bibles, an' poopits whenever they +can get a haud o' them"--an' in he shot--wha d'ye think? Juist Sandy +an' me oorsels, life-size--ay, an' bigger! + +"O, golly midgins!" says ane o' Dauvid's lassies, wi' her hands up, an' +her moo an' her een wide open. + +You never heard sic a riffin' as there was, the laddies a' roarin' "The +King o' the Cannibal Islands," an' Sandy wirrin' like a perfeck terrier. + +"That's some o' Robbie Boath's wark," he says in laich till himsel', +wi' an awfu' girn on his face. "He gae me that picture special, an +tell'd me the name o't, an' said to feenish wi't. But gin he disna get +a stane o' diseased pitatties frae me the morn that'll mak' him onweel +for a i'ortnicht, my name's no Si Bowden." Syne he added heich oot, +"Noo, loons and lassockies, that's a'. It's aboot time you was +toddlin' awa' hame noo; an' I howp you've a' enjoyed it." + +Dauvid proposed a vote o' thanks to Sandy; an' you wudda thocht a' the +steam-engines atween this an' Glesca had gotten into oor washin'-hoose, +wi' their whistles on full-cock. The noise was something terriple. I +had to pet my fingers in my lugs, an' rin. + + + + +VIII. + +SANDY AND THE RHUBARB TART. + +Was ever a woman so provokit wi' a ramstam, dotrifeed gomeral o' a man? +Sandy Bowden 'ill hae me i' my grave yet afore my time, as share's I'm +a livin' woman. There's no' a closed e'e for me this nicht; an' +there's Sandy awa' till his bed wi' his airms rowed up in bits o' an +auld yellow-cotton apron o' Mistress Mikaver's mither's. Eh, sirce me; +an' me was so happy no' mony 'oors syne! + +We gaed awa' to hae a cup o' tea wi' Mistress Mikaver--that's the +scone-baker's widow, ye ken. Her auldest laddie's been awa' oot amon' +the Reed Indians, or some o' thae ither lang-haired, naked fowk 'at +never wash themsel's; an' they say he's made a heap o' bawbees. He's a +snod bit stockie--a little beld, an' bowd-leggit, an' wants a thoom. +But, I'll swag, the young kimmers that were at the pairty didna see +muckle wrang wi' him. There was as keen competition for him amon' the +lassies as gin he'd been a gude-gaen public-hoose puttin' up for +unction. + +Me an' Sandy landed amon' the first o' the fowk. A'thing was richt +snod, I assure ye. Mistress Mikaver had the stair noo whitened, an' +every stap was kaumed an' sandit, ye never saw the like. An' there she +was hersel' wi' her best black goon on, no' a smad to be seen on't, an' +her lace kep an' beady apron. She was a dandy, an' nae mistak'. + +Afore Sandy got up the stair he manished to mairter the feck o' his +Sabbath claes wi' the whitenin'; an' I was akinda feard Mistress +Mikaver micht mistak' him for the scone-baker's ghost. But we got him +made gey snod, an' syne we gaed inby to the ben-hoose fireside, an' had +a crack wi' young Aleck. That's the son's name. Sandy an' him got +started aboot mustaings, an' Indeens, an' boomirangs, an' scoots an' +ither scoondrils, till I cudna be deaved ony langer wi' their forrin +blethers; so ben to but-the-hoose I gaed to hae a twa-handit crack wi' +Aleck's mither. + +When I opened the door, here's as mony lassies as wudda startit a noo +mill. They'd been a' deckin' themsel's but-the-hoose afore they cam' +ben to see Aleck, d'ye see? He made himsel' rale frank, an' speer'd +for a' their mithers, an' a'thing; an' then we got roond the ben-hoose +table, an' had a fine game at the totum for cracknets. + +Sandy juist got gey pranky, as uswal, afore he was lang startit. He's +aye the same when he gets amon' young lassies, the auld ass 'at he is. + +"T tak's them a' but ane," he roared in the middle o' the game; an' he +grippit up a nivfu' o' the crack-nets, an' into his moo wi' them. His +een gaed up intil his heid, an' gin I hadna gien him a daud i' the +back, that garred the nets flee oot o' his moo a' ower tha table, he'd +been a chokit korp in a meenit or twa, juist as shure's the morn's +Setarday. + +But little did I think what was afore's! Gin I'd kenned, I'd latten +him chok, the mairterin' footer 'at he is. + +We a' gaed awa' doon the yaird aboot half-past seven, to see a noo +henhouse 'at Aleck had been tarrin' that efternune. He maun be a handy +earl, mind ye. + +"Tak' care o' your frocks, for that tar's weet yet," says Aleck to the +lassies. + +"Ay, man, so it is," says Sandy, takin' a slaik o't aff wi' his +fingers, an' syne dichtin't on the tail o' his sirtoo, the nesty +character, 'at I shud say sic a wird! + +"Man, Aleck," says Sandy, when we were a' on the green juist takin' a +look roond aboot's, "it looks juist like the streen that you sat up 'on +that very tree there, an' pappit Gairner Winton wi' oslins that you'd +stealt ooten his ain gairden. I mind I was here when he cam' doon to +tell your father aboot your ongaens. You was a wild tyke o' a laddie, +I can tell ye. Your father gae you an awfu' paikin'; but fient a hair +did you care. He wasna weel dune tannin' you when you was roarin' +'Hairy Grozers'--that was a by-name o' the Gairner's--in at Winton's +shop door. You was a roid loon." + +Aleck took a richt herty lauch at Sandy's blethers, an' the twa o' them +were juist thick an' three-faud afore they were half-an-'oor thegither. +Yet wudda thocht they'd kent ane anither sin' ever they were doakit. + +Gin we cam' back, Aleck's mither had a fine supper a' ready on the +table. She had a can'le here an' there, an' pucklies o' chuckinwirth +an' persly scattered roond the rob-roys. It was awfu' nice. It would +raley garred ye think ye was amon' braw fowk. I was juist sittin' +admirin't when Aleck says, "Ay, then, are ye a' ready?" + +We had to hover a blink till Mistress Mikaver ran ben the hoose for a +knife to Mey Mershell. + +"Mester Bowden 'ill say the grace noo," says Aleck; an' Sandy was on +his feet like the shot o' a gun, hostin' to clear his throat. I +dreedit he wud mak' a gutter o't somewey or ither, an' so I keepit my +een open. Sandy shut his, an' so did a' the rest. He leaned forrit +an' spread oot the muckle clunkers o' hands o' him on the tap o' the +peat o' a big roobarb tert. "O Lord," was a' the len'th he'd gotten, +when in he gaed, up near to the elbas amon' the het roobarb; an' by a' +the skoilin' an' roarin' ever I heard, there never was the like! A gey +grace it was, I can tell ye! It'll no' be the morn nor next day 'at +I'll forget it. He roared an' yowled like I kenna what, an' +black-gairded reed-het roobarb terts, till I thocht he wudda opened the +very earth. + +"O, haud your tongue, Sandy Bowden!" I cried, my very heid like to rive +wi' his yalpin'. + +"Haud my tongue?" says he. "Hoo can I haud my tongue, an' my airms +stewin' amon' boilin' jeelie?" + +Juist at this meenit Aleck aff wi' Sandy's coat syne he but the hoose +wi' him an' garred him shove his airms ower the heid in his mither's +floor pock. It deidened the pain in a wink, an' efter a whilie we got +the airms rowed up. I cudna gae ben to bid the ither fowk guid-nicht, +my hert was that sair; an' Sandy was hingin' his heid like a sick dog. +Puir man, he has mibby mair than me to thole; but I wudda gien a +five-pound note 'at I hadna left my ain hoose this nicht. I'll awa' to +my bed, for my hert's perfeckly i' my moo. + + + + +IX. + +THE GREAT STORM OF NOVEMBER, 1893. + +Eh, sirce me, what a nicht we had on Setarday mornin'! O, haud your +tongue! Though I should live lang eneuch to bury Sandy Bowden, an' hae +a golden weddin' wi' my second man, I'll never forget it. It mak's me +shaky-trimilly yet to think aboot it. Sandy's gaen aboot wi' a' the +hair cut aff the back o' his heid, an' fower or five strips o' stickin' +plester battered across his scawp. He got an awfu' mishap, puir man. +I thocht his heid was a' to smash, but, fortunately, it turned oot +fully harder than the biscuit tin it cam' into contact wi'. + +It would be aboot ane o'clock or thereaboot when Sandy gae me a daud +wi' his elba that garred me a' jump. I had an awfu' busy day on +Friday; an' I was sleepin' as soond's a tap. + +"'Oman," says he, "there's something fearfu' gaen on doon the yaird +somewey. Wud that be the Dyed Wallop an' her man fechtin', or what i' +the world's earth can it be? Harken, Bawbie! Did you ever hear sic +yawlin'?" + +"Bliss me, Sandy man," says I, "that's the wind soochin' throo the +trees in the banker's gairden, an' fizzin' in amon' the pipes o' the +water barrels. It's shurely an awfu' nicht o' wind." + +Juist at this meenit you wudda thocht the very deevil himsel' had +gotten grips o' the frame o' oor winda. He garred it rattle like the +thunder at Hewy White's theatre; then he yawled, an' hooed, an' growled +like five hunder cats an' as mony dogs wirryin' them, an' a' the fowk +'at echt them fechtin' at the same time. This feenisht up wi' a +terrific yawl; an' Sandy dived doon in ablo the claes. + +"Ye fear'd nowt," says I, "what are ye fleein' awa' doon there for? +Ye'll hae my feet sterved to death wi' cauld. Lie up on your pillow +an' lat the claes doon to the fit o' the bed." + +For a hale strucken 'oor this gaed on, an' sometimes I akwilly thocht I +fand the bed shakin'. Oor birdie (he hings at the winda) began to +wheek-wheek wi' fear, an I wanted Sandy to rise an' tak' the puir +cratur doon. + +"The feint a-fear o' me," says he, the hertless skemp 'at he is. "If +you want the canary i' the bed aside you, you can rise an' tak' him +doon yersel'." + +I raise an' took the puir craturie doon, an' hang him up on the ither +side o' the room; an,' mind ye, ye wud raley thocht the bit beastie +kent, for it gae a coodie bit cheep or twa, an juist cooered doon to +sleep again. Juist as I was gaen awa' to screw doon the gas, it gae +twa or three lowps, an' oot it gaed; an' afore I kent whaur I was, +there was a reeshilin' an' rummelin' on the ruif that wudda nearhand +fleggit the very fowk i' the kirkyaird. I floo to my bed, an' in aneth +the claes, an' lay for a meenit or so expectin' the cuples wud be doon +on the tap o's, an' bruze baith o's to pooder. Efter the rummelin' +haltit, I fand aboot wi' my fit for Sandy; but he wasna there. + +"Preserve's a'," says I, heich oot, "whaur are ye, Sandy? Are ye +there? What's come ower ye? Are ye deid?" + +"I'm here, Bawbie," says a shiverin' voice in aneth the bed. "I'm +here, Bawbie. Ye'll hear Gabriel's tuter juist i' the noo. O, Bawbie, +I've been a nesty footer o' a man, an' ill-gettit scoot a' my days. I +wiss I cud juist get hauds o' the Bible on the drawers-heid, Bawbie. +Did ye hear the mountins an' the rocks beginnin' to fa'?" + +"Come awa' 'oot ablo there, Sandy," I says, says I, "an' no' get your +death o' cauld, an' be gaen aboot deavin fowk wi' you an' your reums. +The mountins an' rocks is the brick an' lum-cans aff Mistress +Mollison's hoose, I'm thinkin'." An' I cudna help addin'--"It's ower +late to be thinkin' aboot startin' to the Bible efter Gabriel's begun +to blaw his tuter, Sandy. Come awa' to your bed!" + +Sandy got himsel' squeezed up atween the bed an' the wa'; an' at ilky +hooch an whirr 'at the wind gae he wheenged an' groaned like's he was +terriple ill wi' his inside; an' aye he was sayin', "I've been a lazy +gaen-aboot vegabon', an' ill-hertit vague. O dear, Bawbie, what'll we +do?" + +I cam' to mysel' efter a whilie, an' raise an' tried the gas, an' it +lichtit a' richt. The wind was tearin' an' rivin' at the ruif at this +time something terriple. "We'll go doon the stair, Sandy," says I; an' +I made for the door. + +"For ony sake, Bawbie," roared Sandy oot o' the bed, "wait till I get +on my breeks. If ye lave me, I'll g'wa' in a fit--as shore's ocht." + +We got doon the stair an' I lichtit the fire an' got the kettle to the +boil, an' we sat an' harkined to the wind skreechin' doon the lum, an' +groanin' an' wailin' amon' the trees ower the road, an' soochin' roond +aboot the washin'-hoose. I raley never heard the marrow o't. The +nicht o' the fa'a'in' o' the Tay Brig was but the blawin' oot o' a +can'le aside it. I' the middle o' an awfu' sooch there was a fearfu' +reeshil at oor door, an' Sandy fair jamp aff his chair wi' the start. + +"A'ye in, Sandy?" cried Dauvid Kenawee, in a nervish kind o' a voice. + +I awa' an' opened the door, an' here was Dauvid an' Mistress +Kenawee--Dauvid wi' his pints wallopin' amon' his feet, an' his weyscot +lowse, an' Mistress Kenawee juist wi' her short-goon an' a shallie on. + +"This is shurely the end o' the world comin'," said Mistress Kenawee, +near greetin'. "O dear me, I think something's genna come ower me." + +"Tuts 'oman, sit doon," says Dauvid, altho' he was in a fell state +aboot her. I cud see that brawly. + +The sicht o' the puir wafilly budy akinda drave the fear awa frae me; +an' I maskit a cup o' tea, an' crackit awa till her till we got her +cowshined doon. Their back winda had been blawn in, and Dauvid had +tried to keep oot the wind wi' a mattress; but the wind had tummeled +baith Dauvid an' the mattress heels ower gowrie, an' the wife got intil +a terriple state. They cudna bide i' the hoose ony langer, an' i' the +warst o't a', they cam' awa through a shoer o' sklates, an' bricks, an' +lum-cans, an' gless, to see if we wud lat them in. + +I garred Sandy pet on a bit ham, and drew anower the table, and tried +to keep them frae thinkin' aboot it; but at ilka whizz an' growl the +wind gae, baith Sandy an' Mistress Kenawee startit an' took a lang +breath. + +I'm shure we hadna abune a moofu' o' tea drucken, an' Sandy was juist +awa' to tak' aff' the ham, when the fryin' pan was knockit ooten his +hand, an' doon the lum cam' a pozel o' bricks an' shute that wudda +filled a cairt. Sandy fell back ower an' knockit Mistress Kenawee +richt i' the flure. The ham dip gaed up the lum in a gloze, an' here +was Sandy an' Dauvid's wife lyin' i' the middle o' a' the mairter o' +rubbitch. Mistress Kenawee's face, puir thing, was as white as a +cloot; but Sandy's was as black as the man More o' Vennis, the bleckie +that smored his wife i' the theatre for carryin' on wi' a sodger. + +What a job Dauvid an' me had gettin' them roond. We poored a drappie +brandie doon baith their throats; an' Sandy opened his een an' says, +"Ay; I've been an awfu' blackgaird; I have that!" He had come doon wi' +the back o' his heid on a biscuit tin fu' o' peyse meal, an' had +smashed the tin an' sent the meal fleein' a' ower the hoose. But the +cratur had gotten an awfu' tnap on the back o' the heid, an' he was +bluidin' gey sair. Gin daylicht brook, Dauvid an' me had gotten the +twa o' them akinda into order, and Sandy was able to open the shop. He +had an awfu' ruggin' an' tuggin' afore he cud get the door to open; an' +he cam' into me an' says, "Dod, Bawbie, I think the hoose has gotten a +terriple thraw. The shop door 'ill nether go back nor forrit!" + +I gaed oot to see what was ado. Eh, sirce, if you had only seen oor +street! The beach ootby at the Saut Pan, whaur there's a free coup for +rubbitch, was naething till't! It juist mindit me o' the picture, in +oor big Bible, o' Jerusalem when the fowk cam' back frae Babylon +till't--it was juist a' lyin' a cairn o' lowse steens an' half bricks. + +There's neen o's 'ill forget Friday nicht in a hurry, or I'm muckle +misteen. + + + + +X. + +SANDY AND HIS FAIRNTICKLES. + +There's twa things Sandy Bowden's haen sin' ever I got acquant wi' +him--an' that's no' the day nor yesterday--that's fairntickles an' +cheepin' buits. I never kent Sandy bein' withoot a pair o' +'lastic-sided buits that gaed squakin' to the kirk like twa croakin' +hens. I've seen the fowk sometimes turn roond-aboot in their seats, +when Sandy cam' creakin' up the passage, as gin they thocht it was a +brass-band comin' in. But Sandy appears to think there's something +reverint an' Sabbath-like in cheepin' buits, an' he sticks to them, +rissen be't or neen. I can tell ye, it's a blissin' there's no' mony +mair like him, or we'd hae gey streets on Sabbath. The noise the +maitter o' twenty chields like Sandy cud mak' wi' their buit soles wud +fair deave a hale neeperhude. + +Hooever, it wasna Sandy's buits I was to tell you aboot; it was my +nain. But afore I say onything aboot them, I maun tell you aboot the +fairntickles. As I was sayin', Sandy's terriple fairntickled aboot the +neck an' the sides o' the nose, an' oor lest holiday made him a hankie +waur than uswal. He's a gey prood mannie too, mind ye, although he +winna haud wi't. But I can tell you it's no a bawbee-wirth o' hair oil +that sairs Sandy i' the week. But that's nether here nor there. + +Weel, Sandy had been speakin' aboot his fairntickles to Saunders Robb. +Saunders, in my opinion, is juist a haiverin' auld ass. He's a +hoddel-dochlin', hungert-lookin' wisgan o' a cratur; an', I'm shure, he +has a mind to match his body. There's naethin' he disna ken +aboot--an', the fac' is, he kens naething. He's aye i' the wey o' +improvin' ither fowk's wark. There's naethin' Saunders disna think he +could improve, excep' himsel' mibby. I canna be bathered wi' the +chatterin', fykie, kyowowin' little wratch. He's aye throwin' oot +suggestions an' hints aboot this and that. He's naething but a +suggestion himsel', an' I'm shure I cud of'en throw him oot, wi' richt +gude will. + +Weel, he'd gien Sandy some cure for his fairntickles, an' Sandy, +unbekent to me, had gotten something frae the druggie an' mixed it up +wi' a guid three-bawbee's-wirth o' cream that I had in the upstairs +press. He had rubbit it on his face an' neck afore he gaed till his +bed; but he wasna an 'oor beddit when he had to rise. An' sik a sicht +as he was! His face an' neck were as yellow's mairyguilds, an' +yallower; an' though I've taen washin' soda, an' pooder, an' the very +scrubbin' brush till't, Sandy's gaen aboot yet juist like's he was noo +oot o' the yallow fivver an' the jaundice thegither. + +"Ye'll better speer at Saunders what'll tak' it aff," says I till him +the ither mornin'. + +"If I had a grip o' Saunders, I'll tak' mair than the fairntickles aff +him," says he; an' faigs, mind you, there's nae sayin' but he may do't; +he's a spunky carlie Sandy, when he's raised. + +But, as far as that's concerned, I'm no' sorry at it, for it'll keep +the cratur awa' frae the place. Sin' Sandy put that sofa into the +washin'-hoose, him an' twa-three mair's never lain oot o't. Lyin' +smokin' an' spittin' an' crackin' aboot life bein' a trauchle, an' so +on! I tell you, if it had lested muckle langer, I'd gien them a bucket +o' water sweesh aboot their lugs some day; that's juist as fac's ocht. + +But I maun tell you aboot my mischanter wi' my noo buits. I'm sure it +has fair delighted Sandy. He thinks he's gotten a hair i' my neck noo +that'll haud him gaen a while. He was needin't, I can tell you. If +ilky mairter he's made had been a hair in his neck, I'll swag, there +wudna been room for mony fairntickles. + +Weel, I gaed awa' to the kirk lest Sabbath--Sandy, of coorse, cudna get +oot wi' his yallow face an' neck. He had a bran poultice on't to see +if it wud do ony guid. I canna do wi' noo buits ava, till I've worn +them a while. I pet them on mibby to rin an errand or twa, till they +get the set o' my fit, an' syne I can manish them to the kirk. But I +canna sit wi' noo buits; they're that uneasy. I got a noo pair lest +Fursday, an' tried them on on Sabbath mornin'. But na, na! Altho' my +auld anes were gey binkit, an' worn doon at the heels, I juist put them +on gey hurried, an' aff I set to the kirk, leavin' Sandy to look efter +the denner. + +I was feelin' akinda queerish when I startit; but I thocht it was juist +the hurry, an' that a breath o' the caller air wud mak' me a' richt. +But faigs, mind ye, instead o' better I grew waur. My legs were like +to double up aneth me, an' my knees knokit up acrain' ane anither +like's they'd haen a pley aboot something. I fand a sweit brakin' oot +a' ower me, an' I had to stop on the brae an' grip the railin's, or, +it's juist as fac's ocht, I wudda been doon i' the road on the braid o' +my back. I thocht I was in for a roraborialis, or some o' thae +terriple diseases. Eh, I was feard I wud dee on the open street; I was +that! Mysie Meldrum noticed me, an' she cam' rinnin' to speer what was +ado. + +"I've taen an awfu' dwam, Mysie," says I. "I think I'm genna dee. Ye +micht juist sit doon on the railin's aside's till the fowk be by." + +"I think we're aboot the henmost, Bawbie," says she. "We're gey late; +but I'll bide aside you, lassie." + +We sat for the maitter o' ten meenits, an' I got akinda roond, an' +thocht I wud try an' get hame. Mistress Kenawee had putten on her +tatties an' come oot for a dander a bittie, an' noticed the twa o's; so +she cam' up, an' I got her airm an' Mysie's, an', though it was a gey +job, we manished to get hame. An' gled I was when I saw Sandy's yallow +nose again, I can tell ye, for I was shure syne I wud dee at hame amon' +my nain bed-claes. + +"The Lord preserve's a'!" says Mysie when she saw Sandy. "What i' the +name o' peace has come ower you? I'll need to go! I've Leeb's bairns +at hame, you see, an' this is the collery or the renderpest or +something come ower you twa, an' I'm feard o' smittin' the bairns, or I +wudda bidden. As shure's I live, I'll need to go!" an' she vanisht oot +at the door wi' a face as white's kauk. + +"I think I'll rin for the doctor, Bawbie," said Mistress Konawee. She +kent aboot Sandy's fairntickles afore, of coorse, an' Sandy's yallow +fizog didna pet her aboot. + +"Juist hover a blink," says I, "till I see if I come to mysel'." + +I sat doon in the easy-chair, an' Sandy was in a terriple wey aboot me. +He cudna speak a wird, but juist keepit sayin', "O dinna dee, Bawbie, +dinna dee; your denner's ready!" He lookit me up an' doon, an' then +booin' doon till he was for a' the world juist like a half-steekit +knife he roars oot, "What's ado wi' your feet, Bawbie? Look at them! +Your taes are turned oot juist like the hands o' the tnock, at twenty +meenits past echt. You're shurely no genna tak' a parrylattick stroke." + +I lookit doon, an' shure eneuch my taes were turned oot an' curled +roond like's they were gaen awa' back ahent my heels. Mistress Kenawee +got doon on her knees aside me. + +"Preserve's a', Bawbie," says she; "you have your buits on the wrang +feet! Nae winder than your knees were knokin' thegither wi' thae auld +worn-doon heels turned inside, an' your taes turned oot." + +But I'll better no' say nae mair aboot it. I was that angry; and +Mistress Kenawee, the bissam, was like to tnet hersel' lauchin'; but; I +ashure ye, I never got sik a fleg in my life--an' sik simple dune too, +mind ye. + + + + +XI. + +SANDY STANDS "EMPIRE" AT A CRICKET MATCH. + +I was sittin' on Friday nicht, readin' awa' at some bits o' the +_Herald_ I didna get at on Fursday, when the shop door gaed clash back +to the wa', an' in hammered fower or five bits o' loons a' at the heels +o' ane anither. When they saw me, they stood stock still, dichtin' +their noses wi' their jeckit sleeves, an' glowerin' like as mony +fleggit sheep. + +"Go on, Jock," says ane o' them, gien anither ane a shuve forrit. +"You're the captain; speak you." + +Jock gae a host, an' syne layin' his hand--a gey clorty ane it was--on +the coonter, an' stanin' on ae fit, he says--"Isyin?" + +"Wha micht he be?" says I. + +"Sandy," said the captain. + +"What Sandy?" says I. + +"No," said ane o' the birkies ahent; "your Sandy--Sandy Bowden." + +"Ay, he's in," says I; "but you shud mind an' gie fowk their richt +names when ye're seeking them. Ye micht hae smeddum enough to say +Mester Bowden, or Alexander Bowden. Your teacher michta tell't ye +that." + +I gaed awa' doon the yaird to get Sandy, an' juist as I was gaen oot at +the back door I heard ane o' the sackets sayin', "What's she chatterin' +aboot? She ca's him Sandy hersel'; I've heard her of'en." Did ever ye +hear what impident young fowk's gettin' noo-a-days? It's raley +terriple. When I was young, if I'd sen the like o' that, I'd gotten a +smack i' the side o' the heid that wudda garred the wa' tak's anither. + +"Oo, ay," says Sandy, when I tell't him. "That'll be the lads frae the +Callyfloor C.C. They said they were mibby genna look yont the nicht." + +He cam' up an' took the loons to the back shop, an' I heard them sayin' +they wantit him to be empire at their match wi' the second eleven o' +the Collie Park. There was a fell kurn fowk cam' into the shop, an' I +didna hear nae mair; but efter a whilie Sandy cam' to the door wi' the +laddies, an', gien his hand a wave, he says to them, as they were gaen +awa, "A' richt than; three sharp; I'll do my best." + +"What's this noo?" says I. "Nae mair o' yer fitba' pliskies, I howp." + +"Oh no," says Sandy. "That's a deputation frae the Callyfloor C.C. I +gae them a tume orange box a week or twa syne to haud their bats an' +wickets, an' they made me their pattern." + +"A gey queer pattern," says I, wi' a lauch. "Faigs, Sandy, if they +shape themselves efter your pattern, their mithers an' wives--if ever +they get that len'th--'ill lose a hankie o' sleep wi' them, I'm +thinkin'." + +"Auch, Bawbie, ye're juist haverin' like some auld aipplewife," says +Sandy. "That's no' the kind o' pattern I mean;" an' awa' he gaed for +the _Herald_ an' turned up a bit noos I never noticed, sayin' that +"Alexander Bowden, Esq., had been elected patron of the Cauliflower +C.C., and had contributed handsomely to the funds of the club." + +"Oo ay! I see," says I. "An' what did you handsomely gie to the funds +o' the club?" + +"O, that's juist the orange box," says Sandy. "But they want me for +empire the morn's efternune. They're genna play the second eleven o' +the Collie Park C.C. a match at bat an' wickets on the Wast Common. +It'll be a rare affair. Ye micht get Mistress Kenawee to look efter +the shop for an 'oor or twa, an' come ootbye, Bawbie." + +Ay, weel, to mak' a lang story short, Sandy an' me got ootbye to the +Wast Common on Setarday efternune; an' awa we gaed up to a corner o' +the Common whaur there was aboot a hunder loons gaithered. The loonie +that they ca'd the captain cam' forrit. He was berfit, an' had his +jecket an' weyscot aff, an' his gallaces lowsed i' the front an' tied +roond his weyst. + +"We've won the toss, Sandy," says he, "an' the Collie Park's genna +handle the willa first. We've sent them in to see what they'll mak'." + +Sandy took me up the brae a bit, an' I got set doon on the girss wi' +Nathan aside me. I took him wi's juist to explain the match, d'ye see, +an' aboot the bats an' wickets, an' sic like, an' so on, because I'm +no' juist acquant wi' a' the oots an' ins o' the thing. A lot o' the +loons gathered roond an' lay doon on the girss, an' they keepit their +tongues gaen to the playin', I can tell ye. Ye wudda thocht they kent +mair aboot cricket than the loons that were playin'. + +Weel, the match got startit. They set Sandy at the end nearest the +dyke; an', faigs, he lookit gey weel, mind ye. The captain loonie +wirks at the heckle-machines, an' he'd gotten a len' o' the second +foreman's white canvas coat, an' gae't to Sandy. It was to keep his +shedda oot ahent the bailer's airm, Sandy said; but it didna appear to +mak' ony difference to his shedda. It was juist in the auld place, as +far as I cud see. + +Very weel, than, the match began, as I was sayin', an' a'thing gaed +richt eneuch for a little. The Collie Park lads did fine for a while, +but some o' them didna get so lang strikin' the ba' as ithers, an' they +began to roar cheek. + +"Noo, Batchy," said some o' them, as a gey mettled-lookin' loon got the +bat, "strik' oot. Lat's see ye knokin' the colour oot o' Snapper +Morrison's ballin'." + +Sal, mind ye, an' Batchy wasna lang o' doin' that. He shut his een, +an' hit sweech at the ba', an' awa' it gaed sailin' ower the dyke. + +"Well away," roared the loons roond aboot me. "That's a sixer. Play +up, Batchy!" + +Batchy spat in his hands, an' set himsel' up for the next ba'. He lut +drive at it, but missed, an' doon gaed his wickets. Ye never heard sic +a row. + +"A bloomin' sneak!" roared a' the laddies aside me thegither. "Dinna +gae oot, Batchy. It rowed a' the road." + +There was an awfu' wey-o-doin', an' aboot fifty laddies roond Sandy, a' +yalpin' till him at ae time. Efter a lang laberlethan, the bailer got +three shies at Batchy's wickets, because he tried to het what they ca'd +a sneak. But he missed ilky time, an' syne Batchy wallapit the ba' a' +ower the Common, an' floo frae end to end o' the wickets like's he +wasna wyse. It was gey slow wark for Sandy though, an' I think he had +gotten tired, for the laddies roond aboot me began to say, "There was +thirteen ba's i' that lest over; I think Sandy Bowden's dreamin'," an' +so on. I think mysel' Sandy had been doverin', for the ba' hut +Batchy's wicket, an' every ane o' the loons playin' gae a yowl at the +same meenit--"How's that?" Sandy near jamp ootin his white coat wi' +the start; an', takin' till his heels, he was a hunder yairds doon the +Common afore ane o' the laddies grippit him by the tails, an' speered +whaur he was fleein' till. + +"I was gettin' hungrie," says Sandy. "I was gaen ower to the toll for +a biskit." That was a lee; for he tell'd me efter, he dreedit, when he +heard the roar, that it was ane o' Sandy Mertin's ki gane wild; an' he +took till his heels, thinkin' it was efter him. + +"That bloomin' empire's a pure frost," I heard some o' the loons +sayin'. "He canna coont; an' noo he's genna stop the match 'cause he's +hungrie. Wha ever heard o' an empire gettin' hungrie?" + +Sandy got back till his place, an' the match gaed on. "Over comin' +up," said the ither empire forby Sandy; an' the laddie that was ballin' +says, "Ay weel, than, I'm genna see an' get wid." He gae his arm an +awfu' sweel roond, an' instead o' sendin' the ba' to the wickets, it +gaed spung ower an' hut Sandy a yark i' the side o' the heid. + +"There's wid," said the ither empire; "but it's no' a wicket for a' +that." Sandy was springin' aboot wi' his heid in his oxter, an' a' the +laddies roarin' and lauchin' like to kill themsel's. + +I was ance genna gae doon an' tak' him awa' hame; but I thocht it micht +look raither queer, so I lut him aleen for a little. The captain +loonie began to ball, an' a gey wild-lookin' bailer he was. The Collie +Park's henmost man--he was a little berfit craturie wi' nicker-buckers +an' a straw hat--was in, an' the captain gae him an awfu' crack below +the knee wi' the ba'. + +"How's that?" he yowled at Sandy. + +"Man, I believe that's fell sair," says Sandy, rubbin' the swalled side +o' his heid. + +A' the loons startit to the lauchin', an' the captain roars again, "Ay, +but how is't?" + +"Ye can easy see how it is," says Sandy. "The ba' strack him a yark on +the kut." + +There was mair lauchin', an' I saw Sandy was gettin' raised. + +"Is't l--b--w., ye stewpid auld bloit?" said the impident little wisgan +o' a captain, stickin' himsel' up afore Sandy. + +"I'll l--b--double you," says Sandy, "if ye gie me ony o' your chat, ye +half-cled horn-goloch 'at ye are"; and he took the sacket a kleip i' +the side o' the heid wi' his open luif that tummeled him ower the tap +o' the wickets like a puckle rags. In half a meenit a' the hunder +laddies were round Sandy, an' him layin' amon' them wi' ane o' their +ain wickets. + +I'll swag the Gallyfloor C.C. got something frae their pattern lest +Setarday efternune that they'll no forget in a hurry. Some men on the +Common cam' doon an' shoo'd the loons awa' frae pappin' Sandy wi' duds, +an' we got hame withoot any farrer mishap; but a' forenicht I heard +Sandy wirrin' awa' till himsel', an' sayin' ilky noo an' +than--"Ill-gettit little deevils; an' me gae them an' orange box too!" + +Nathan cam' in juist afore I shut the shop, an' tell'd Sandy that there +had been an' awfu' row on the Common. "Some o the lads i' the +Callyfloor," said Nathan, "were blamin'the captain for gien you cheek, +an' said the wallop i' the lug he got saired him richt. So he got on +his jeckit an' his buits, an' got a haud o' the best bat an' the ba', +an' then he roars a' his micht, 'The club's broken up.' You never saw +sic a row as there was. Willy Mollison's i' the club, an' he's gotten +three bails an' a wicket. That's better gin naething. I nailed twa o' +the bails till him out o' Tarn Dargie's pooch, when he was fechtin' wi' +the captain. Snapper Morrison didna get onything; but he ower the +Common dyke an' in the road; an' when I was comin' hame I saw him +leggin' in the Loan wi' the orange box on his heid. He had nabbit it +oot o' Tooties' Nook, whaur they keepit their bats an' wickets. It's a +gude thing they're broken up at onyrate. I'm in the Collie Park, an' +they're the only club that cud lick his lads." + +"O, that's a' richt," says Sandy; an' awa' he gaed, as pleased as you +like. When I dandered doon the yaird to get a breath o' fresh air, +efter I shut the shop, here's him tumblin' catmas, an' stanin' on his +heid i' the middle o' the green, gien Nathan an' twa or three ither +loons coosies! Did you ever hear o' sic a man? + + + + +XII. + +A DREADFUL DISASTER IN THE GARRET. + +I'm shure I needna trauchle to haud in aboot the bawbees! That man o' +mine wud ramsh an' hamsh an' fling awa' mair than I cud save although I +was a millionaire. Nae farrer gane than lest nicht I heard some +ongaens up the stair. What's he up till noo? thinks I to mysel'. Ye +ken our garret? It's a anod bit roomie, an' we sleep up there i' the +simmer nichts, for the doonstair room gets that het an' seekrif, I +canna fa' ower ava sometimes. So I have the garret made rale snod an' +cosie. There's a fine fixed-in bed, an' I have the room chairs I got +when my Auntie Leeb de'ed, wi' a tidie or twa ower them, an' an +auld-fashioned roond tablie 'at I bocht at a rowp--ane o' thae anes +that cowps up an' sets back to the wa' when you're no' needn't. Auntie +Leeb left me her big lookin' gless too. Ye mind she had a shooster +shopie at the fit o' Collie Park, an' she had a big lookin' gless for +her customers seeing hoo their frocks fitted. Ay weel than, I set the +gless juist up again' the wa' at the end o' the garret, firnent the +fireplace an' it made the roomie real cantie an' cheerie lookin'. + +When I heard the din Sandy was makin', I goes my wa's up the stair on +my tiptaes. It was juist upo' the stroke o' nine o'clock, an' I was +juist noo dune shuttin' the shop. The door was aff the snib; an', keep +me, when I lookit in, here's Sandy wi' an Oddfella's kilt an' a bushbie +on, an' his ilky-day's claes lyin' in a pozel on the table. I kent the +kilt whenever I saw't; it was the ane Dauvit Kenawee wears in the +Oddfellas' processions. Sandy was berfit, an', I'm shure, if ye'd seen +him! Haud your tongue! Ye never saw sic a picture. I suppose he'd +taen aff his buits no' to mak' a noise. + +Ay weel, here he was wi' a bawbee can'le stuck up again' the boddom o' +the lookin'-gless, an' him maleengerin' aboot i' the flure afore't, wi' +the shaft o' the heather bissam in his hand, whiskin't roond his lugs, +progin' aboot wi't, an' lowpin' here an' there like a hen on a het +girdle. He croonshed doon, an' jookit frae side to side, an' then jamp +straucht up an' lut flee at something wi' the bissam shaft. Syne he +stack the end o' the stick i' the flure, an' bored an' grunted like's +he was rammin't through a pavemint steen. + +"That's anither settle't," says he, pullin' up his stick; an' gie'n't a +dicht wi' the tails o' his kilt; syne makin' a kick at something wi' +his berfit fit--"Let us do or die," says he; "Scots wha hae; Wallace +an' Bruce for ever; doon wi' every bloomin' Englisher; rip them up; +koo-heel!" Then he whiskit half-roond aboot, an' lut flee at a seckie +o' caff I had sittin' in a corner. "Come on, Mick Duff; every deevil +o' ye! Change your slaverie," he says akinda heich oot, an' then he +lut yark at the seek again an' missed, an' made a muckle hole i' the +plester. + +He stoppit an' harkin't for fear I'd heard the stishie he was makin'. +I never lut dab, but keepit juist as quiet's pussy. + +"Auch, she's i' the shop," he says heich oot; an' then he floo back an' +forrit, fencin' an' jookin', an glowerin' at himsel' i' the +lookin'-gless; an' girnin' his teeth like a whitterit. I raley thocht +the man had gane sketch. He made a sweech wi' the bissam shaft 'at +garred the licht o' the can'le waggle frae side to side. Syne he +straughtened himsel' up afore the gless, an', touchin' the ruif wi the +point o' his stick, he says, "Viktory, viktory! Bannockburn is wun. +Hooreh! Hooreh!" + +Juist at this meenit there was a rare like's fifty thunderbolts had +burst in Kowper Collie's auld-iron yaird. You never heard sic a soond. +It was like the crack o' a hunder cannon; an' in an instant a' was +dark, an' there was a reeshil o' broken bottles that garred me think +there had been an earthquake i' the back shop. Doon the stair I floo; +but, afore I was half-roads doon, Sandy jamp clean on my back--kilt, +bushbie, an' a'thegither. Doon I gaed like a rickel o' auld beans, an' +Sandy ower the tap o' me, heels-ower-gowrie. When I cam' to mysel', +here's Sandy lyin' streekit oot on his face i' the middle o' a box o' +Hielant eggs that I'd juist noo opened. The strap o' the bushbie was +roond his thrapple, an' was juist aboot stranglin' him, when I cut it +wi' the ham knife. Then he akinda half-turned roond, an' says he, "O +Bawbie! I'm deid. There's a bomshall gane throo my backbeen." + +"Rise up," says I, "there's mair than you deid. There's twal' or +fifteen dizzen o' gude eggs bruist to bits. Whatever 'ill I do?" He +raise up; an' if ye'd only seen the sicht! It's as fac's ocht, it was +eneuch to fleg the French. Never will I forget it while I draw breath. +He lookit like some berfit tinkler wife that had been too, an' had +t'a'in, ower the heid, intil a barrel o' yellow oker; an' stickin' on +his weyst there was ane o' my winda tickets--"Just in To-Day." + +"O, Bawbie!" he wheenged, "gae up the stair an' see if the ruif's aye +on. I think somebody's been hoddin' dianamite in oor garret." + +"When I gaed up the stair wi' a licht, what did I see but my Auntie +Leeb's braw lookin'-gless a' to flinders i' the flure? The licht o' +the can'le had burned up against it, an' riven't a' to pieces. When I +turned roond, here's Sandy stappin' ooten his kilt, an' gaen awa' to +pet on his troosers. + +"Alick Bowden," says I--an' my very hert was greit--"Alick Bowden"--I +aye ca' him Alick when I'm angry--"this maun be the end o't. I canna +thole nae mair."' + +"For ony sake, Bawbie," he brook in, "dinna say naething the nicht, or +I'll pushon or droon mysel'. I wiss I had been smored amo' thae eggs"; +an' doon the stair he gaed, wi' his breeks in his oxter. + +I juist had to g'wa' to my bed an' lat a'thing aleen, an' I ac'ually +grat mysel' ower asleep. I didna ken o' Sandy comin' till his bed ava; +an' when I raise i' the mornin' a' thing was cleared awa', an' the +garret an' backshop a' sweepit an' in order, an' Sandy was busy i' the +yaird hackin' sticks, an' whistlin' "Hey, Jockie Mickdonal'," juist's +as gin naethin' had happened. He's been stickin' in like a hatter ever +sin' syne, an' has a'thing as neat's ninepence; so I canna say a single +wird. But is't no raley something terriple? + + + + +XIII. + +SANDY AND BAWBIE'S SPRING HOLIDAY. + +Spring holiday! Wheesht! I'll no' forget it in a hurry, I can tell +you. But I never saw't different. Holidays are juist a perfeck +scunner, as far as I've haen to do wi' them; an' as for the rest--I'm +shure I'm aye tireder efter a holiday than at the tailend o' a hard +day's wark. I'm juist a' sair the day wi' sittin' i' the train; an' +yesterday nicht I cud hardly move oot o' the bit, I was that dune. + +But I maun tell you the story frae the beginnin'. You've mibby heard +me speak aboot Meg Mortimer's mither that used to bide at The Drum. +Meg's in a big wey o' doin' noo in Edinboro; but I've seen the day, I'm +thinkin'! Weel div I mind when her mither flitted ower frae Powsoddie. +She cam' along to oor hoose to seek the len' o' twa kists, juist to gie +her flittin' some appearance on the cairts. Ay did she, noo-na-na! +What think ye o' that? They were as puir's I kenna what, an' mony a +puckle meal did they get oot o' oor girnil, for Dauvid Mortimer was a +nice man, altho' he was terriple hudden doon wi' the reums. + +Weel, Meg gaed awa' to service, an' fell in wi' a weeda man wi' three +o' a faimly. I can ashure you there's nae tume kists in her hoose noo. +She has a big wey o' doin'. Her man's a kind o' heid pillydakus amon' +a lot o' naveys, makin' railroads, and main drains, an' so on. He's +made a heap o' bawbees. Mester Blair's his name. They bide in a big +hoose doon about the Meadows in Edinboro, an' they have a big servant, +and twa dogs; forby a bit lassockie to look efter the bairns. + +Meg was throo seein' her fowk no' that lang syne, an' she wud hae me to +promise to come throo wi' Sandy an' see them. She wudna hae a na-say. +She was aye an awfu' tague for tonguein', Meg. I mind when she was but +ten 'ear auld, me, that was saxteen or seventeen 'ear aulder, cudna +haud the can'le till her. She was a gabbin' little taed. Weel, rizzen +be't or neen, she fair dang me into sayin' I wud come wi' Sandy an' see +her at the spring holiday; an' so we juist had to go. + +Sandy gaed on juist like a clockin' hen a' Sabbath efternune an' nicht. +He had the upstairs bed lippin' fu' o' luggitch that he was thinkin' o' +takin' wi' him. A body wudda thocht he was settiu' aff for a crooze +roond the North Pole, instead o' on a veesit to Edinboro. He was +rubbin' up his buits, an' syne brethin' on them, an' rubbin' them up +again, an' settin' himsel' back an' lookin' at himsel' in them. He's a +prood bit stockie, Sandy, mind ye, when there's naebody lookin'. He +had a' his goshore suit hung oot on the backs o' chairs a' roond the +hoose. It lookit like's there was genna be a sale or a raffle or +something. + +He gaed doon to supper Donal' i' the forenicht, an' I took a dander +awa' doon ahent him, juist to get a moof'u' o' caller air. When I +landit at the stable door I heard Sandy speakin' to somebody. I took a +bit peek in at the winda, an' here's Sandy merchin' aboot wi' the horse +cover tied up in a bundle in ae hand, an' a stick i' the ither. He +stoppit in the tume staw an' laid doon his bundle rale smert like; syne +he lookit ower the buird to Donal', an' says, in an Englishy kind o' a +voice, "Twa return tickets third-class an' back to Edinboro!" I saw +syne what he was at! He was practeesin' seekin' the tickets at the +station. Ow, ay; Sandy's like a' ither body! He's a gey breezie +carlie when he's awa' frae hame, an' his dickie on! + +Sandy had his uswal argey-bargeyin' in the train, an' I thocht ae man +an' him, that cam' in at Carnoustie, wi' his wife, an' a pair o' +nickerbucker breeks on, was genna t'a' to the fechtin' a'thegither. +An' faigs, Sandy snoddit him geylies afore we got to Dundee. + +There was a lot o' men' an' loons staiverin' aboot Carnoustie playin' +at the gowf; an' Sandy says--"Look at thae jumpin'-jecks o' craturs wi' +their reed jeckets on, like as mony organ-grinders' monkeys, rinnin' +aboot wi' their bits o' sticks, wallopin' awa' at Indeen-rubber ba's. +Puir craturs!" + +Man, the chappie wi' the nickerbuckers got up in an awfu' pavey, an' +misca'ed Sandy for a' the vagues--you never heard the like! + +"Look ye hear, my bit birkie," says Sandy, gien a gey wild-like wink +wi' his richt e'e, "you speak when ye're spoken till! I dinna bather +mysel' wi' paper-mashie peeriewinkles like the likes o' you; but if you +gi'e me ony o' your sma' chat, man, I'll tak' an' thrapple you wi' that +fowerpence-happeny-the-dizzen paper collar ye've roond the wizand o' +ye." + +"Wud ye?" said the Carnoustie birkie, jumpin' till his feet. + +The train gae a shoag juist at that meenit, an' he gaed doit ower on +the tap o' Sandy, and brocht a tin box doish doon on his heid. He got +a gey tnap, I can tell you. Sandy keepit his temper something +winderfu', an' he juist quietly set doon Nickerbucker Tammie on the +seat an' says, "Ay, loonie; juist you sit still there till your mither +gie's your nose a dicht, an' ties your gartins; an' you'll get a piece +an' jeely on't when the trainie stops." + +You never heard sic lauchin' as there was; an' Sandy's frien' lookit as +gin he'd haen a dram, an' gotten an awfu' dose o' cauld. He didna say +"guid-mornin'" when he gaed oot at the Toy Brig Station. + +Sandy had twa-three mair pliskies atween Dundee an' Edinboro, but I +hinna time to tell you o' them. Peety the man that starts to write +Sandy's beebliographie. If he tells the hale truth, eksettera, he'll +hae a gey job. The faimly Bible 'ill be like a heym-book aside the +volum. They'll need to get up early i' the mornin' that reads Sandy's +life, I tell you. The man that writes it 'ill never win to his bed ava. + +Weel-a-weel, we landit at Edinboro, an Meg was waitin's, an' as mony +bairns wi' her as wudda startit a raggit schule--although they were a' +braw an' snod, I ashure ye. + +"Keep me, Meg," said Sandy, efter he'd shaken hands wi' her, "is thae +a' your litlans? Dod, sic a cleckin!" + +The ass that he is! I saw Meg chowl her chafts gey angry like, an' I +took Sandy a doish i' the back wi' my umberell. "Say Mistress Blair, +ye ill-mennered whaup atyar," says I in his lug; an' he gleyed roond at +me, an' says, wi' anither o' his vegabon'-like winks, "Ay; that's +Wattie Scott's monniment, Bawbie. A great man, Wattie! It was him 'at +wret Bailie Nickil Jarvie an' the Reed Gauntlet an' so on. He bade a +fortnicht wi' Luckie Walker at Auchmithie. Bandy Wobster's grandfather +sell'd him a dog when he was there. He was a fine man, Wattie." + +Meg an' the bairns an' me gaed into the cab, an Sandy, he wud be up on +the dickey aside the driver. As I cudda tell'd afore he gaed up, he +wasna there five meenits when he was nearhand at the fechtin' wi' the +man aboot the wey he drave his horse. I was gled when we landit at +Meg's hoose, for I was expectin' ilky meenit to see the cabby--he was +an ill-faur'd, rossen-faced lookin' tyke--fling Sandy heels-ower-heid +into the cab amon' the bairns--he was black-gairdin' the man's horse +for an auld, hunger'd reeshil, an' praisin' up Donal' that terriple! + +"Man, you've juist to lay the reinds on's back, an' he's awa' like the +wind," I heard him sayin'. "There's naething a' roond aboot can touch +him. He can trot up the High Road wi' sasteen hunderwecht. He's a +reg'lar topper! You should send that hunger'd-lookin' radger o' yours +to Glesterlaw"; an' so on he gaed, an' the man girnin' an' skoolin' at +him like a teegar. + +When we cam' aff at the Meadows, Sandy gaed roond aboot the beast, +chucklin' awa' till himsel' juist like watter dreepin' intil a tume +cistern; but he keepit oot o' the reach o' the cabby's kornals. I +expeckit to see him get roond the linders wi' them for his impidence. + +"If you cam' to Arbroath wi' the like o' that, the Croolty to Animals +wud grip you afore you was weel through the toll," he says to the man. +"You'll better g'wa' hame wi't as lang's it's het. If you lat that +sharger cule, it'll stiffen up, an' you'll never get it oot o' the bit, +till you bring a cairt for't." + +The cabby got his bawbees frae Meg, an' drave awa', gien Sandy a glower +like a puttin' bull; but Sandy juist gae a bit lauch, an' cried, +"Ta-ta!" + +We got into the house. Eh, sic a place for stech! Haud your tongue! +Really yon fair sneckit a'thing. Sandy could hardly get his hat aff +for glowerin' aboot him; an' when he did get it aff, he handit it to +ane o' the loons; an', afore you cudda sen Jeck Robison, they were oot +at the back door scorin' goals wi't throo' atween the claes-poles on +the green. Meg was at the hurdies o' them wi' a switch gey quick, an' +sune had Sandy's lum hingin' aside his greatcoat in the lobby. + +We wasna lang set doon when in cam' Meg's man. A brisk-lookin' fellah +he is, I can tell you. He shook hands wi's as hearty's though we'd +come to gie him a job; an' in five meenits, tooch, you wudda thocht +Sandy an' him had never been sindered sin' they got on their first +daidles. I'll swag, Meg's fa'in on hex feet, an' nae mistak'! + +I'm shure I'm no complainin', but Sandy Bowden's been an unsatisfaktory +man in mony weys; but, as the Bible says, we've a' a dwang o' some +kind, an' if I hadna gotten Sandy, weel, I michta haen a drucken son, +or a licht-heided dauchter. Wha can tell? We've a' a hankie mair than +we deserve, nae doot. I ken I have onywey; but that's nether here nor +there. + +We were sittin' enjoyin' a crack, an' lookin' oot at the windas, +watchin' the bairns in their coaches, an' the birds fleein' aboot as +happy as crickets, huntin' for wirms amon' the young girss. + +"The Meadows look very pretty i' the noo," said Mester Blair. "The +very birds enjoy the fresh green grass." + +"They do that," put in Sandy. "It's a treat to see them, puir things. +They are fond o' a bittie o' onything green. I tak' a bit dander oot +the bunkers on a Sabbath mornin' whiles for a pucklie chuckin-wirth to +Dickie, an' you wud really think the cratur kent. He gleys doon when I +come in, as much as to say, 'C'way wi't, Sandy; I ken fine you have't +in your pooch!'" + +"Bawbie here winna believe me," continued Sandy, gien Mester Blair a +wink, "but I've tell'd her twa-three times that when I've gane doon the +yaird i' the winter-time wi' my auld greatcoat--it's gettin' very green +noo, but it was a bit guid stuff aince in its day--the birds 'ill come +fleein' doon an' sit on the palin' aside me, an' wheetle-wheetle awa' +for a whilie. It's queer; but that's the effek the green appears to +hae on them." + +Mester Blair leuch till I thocht he wudda wranged himsel'. A richt +hearty laucher he is. The lauch gaed a' ower him, an' you could hardly +sen futher it was comin' oot o' his moo or his baits, there was that +muckle o't. + +Syne Sandy an' him got on to the crack aboot the tattie trade, an' you +wudda thocht Sandy was genna tak' him in for a pairtner, he had that +muckle to tell him. + +"An' do you do much wi' the Americans?" said Mester Blair. + +"I do a' their trade," said Sandy. "There's only three o' them buys +tatties in Arbroath noo. The ither twa's gey queer that wey; they get +a'thing preserved in tins, frae aboot London they tell me." + +Mester Blair didna appear to understand Sandy, an' he speered, "Do you +get cash again' Billy Lowden; or hoo d'ye get peyment?" + +"If the bawbees is no' at the back o' the cairt, up goes the bawk, an' +Donal' ca's awa," says Sandy. "Na, na, neen o' your Billy Lowden tick +for me. I believe in the ready clink." + +"Oh, I see," said Mester Blair. "You get cash at the ship's side. +That is the safe plan." + +"As you say," said Sandy, "that's exakly Bandy Wobster's wey o' +pettin't. I believe in the bawbees afore the tatties leave the back +door o' the cairt. Short accounts mak' lang freends." + +"Do you do onything wi' the Continent ava?" said Meg's man. + +"I travel a' ower the toon," said Sandy, "frae Tootles Nook to +Culloden, an' frae the Skemels to Cairnie Toll. It disna maitter a +doakan to me wha I sell till. Seven pund to the half-steen, an' cash +doon--thae's my principles; the same price, and the game turn o' the +bawk, to gentle and simple. When the champions are gude I can manish +twa load i' the day fine, an' if the disease keeps oot amon' them, they +pey no that ill." + +Meg's man gey a kind o' a whistle in laich, an' I saw fine syne whaur +he had tint himsel'. Meg had tell'd him Sandy was a tattie merchant, +an' he'd been thinkin' Sandy had a big wey o' doin', an' sell'd tatties +in shiploads an' so on. I saw the whole thing in a blink, but never +lut wink, an' Sandy was fient a hair the better or the waur o' Meg's +man's mistak'. + +We got a grand denner--something specific. "This is a kind o' a haiver +o' buff, Mistress Blair," said Sandy, when we got set doon; but I gae +him a kick throo ablo the table that garred him tak' his tongue atween +his teeth. + +I needna tell you aboot a' we got to eat; Sandy ate that hearty that he +gaed oot to the simmer-seat efter, an' cud hardly steer oot o' the bit +for half an 'oor. Really ilky thing was better than anither, an' we +feenished up wi' ice-cream. Sandy took a gullar o't afore he kent, an' +I think he thocht he was brunt, for he nippit up the water bottle, an' +took a sweech o' cauld watter, an' then gae a pech like's he'd come +ooten a fit. He was a' richt efter a whilie, but the cratur had +over-eaten himsel', an' he was gey uneasy a' efternune. + +Efter we got oor tea, Meg got the bairns a' beddit, an' then her an' +her man, an' me an' Sandy set aff for the theater. It was a terriple +grand theater, wi' as muckle gold hingin' roond aboot as wud mak' a' +the puir fowk in Arbroath millionaires. We got a grand seat, an' +a'thing gaed richt till near the feenish. + +Mester Blair had what they ca' an opera gless wi' him, an' he handed it +to me to look throo. Sandy in wi' his hand intil his greatcoat pooch, +an' oot wi' his spygless, a great lang thing' like a barber's pole, +that he wan at a raffle at the Whin Inn. There was a chappie deein' on +the stage. He'd stuck himsel' wi' his soord, because a lassie wudna +mairry him, an' he was juist lyin' tellin' a' the fowk aboot crooil +weemin, an' peace in the grave, an' a'thing, when Sandy cockit up his +spygless to hae a glower at him afore he gae his henmist gasp. + +I saw the chappie gien a kind o' a fear'd-like start, syne he sprang +till his feet an' roared, "Pileece, pileece! there's an anarkist an' a +feenyin's bom in the theater," an' took till his heels aff the stage. + +You never saw sic a wey o' doin'. You speak aboot peace in the grave. +There wasna muckle peace in the theater. We was a' winderin' what was +ado, an' Sandy was busy peekin' roond wi' his spygless, when twa +bobbies cam' fleein' anower an' grippit him an' roared till him to +sirrender. I can tell you, he nearhand sirrendered ane o' the bobbies +wi' the spygless. If it hadna been for Mester Blair gettin' a haud o' +the wechty end o't, there wudda been a noo helmet, an' mibby a new +bobby needed in Edinboro. + +The row was a' ower in five meenits, when Mester Blair explen'd things; +but if he hadna been wi's, I'm dootin' it wudda been a job. There was +ane o' the great muckle dosent nowts o' bobbies cam' an' gowpit in my +face, an' says, "D'ye think this ane's a woman?" I fand in ahent's for +my umberell; but my chappie gaed his wa's gey quick, or I'd gien him +the wecht o't across his nose. It was a gey-like wey o' doin' aboot +naething; but efter we got hame an' had oor supper we forgot a' aboot +it, an' spent a very happy 'oor or twa afore we gaed to oor beds. + + + + +XIV. + +LOVE AND WAR. + +Wudna you winder hoo some fowk grow aye the aulder the waur? You see +Toon Cooncillors, for instance, gettin' less use the langer they keep +their job; an' ministers--haud your tongue! If they're no' guid, they +get mair an' mair driech the langer they preach; even their auld +sermons, when they turn the barrel an' start at the boddom o' her, +appear to get driecher than ever. It's juist the same wi' Sandy--the +aulder he grows he gets the waur, till I raley winder what'll happen +till him. He's richt sensible an' eident whiles; but when the fey +blude gets intil his heid, an' he gets into the middle o' ony rig, he's +juist as daft as the rochest haflin that ever fee'd. + +When I heard the band on Setarday efternune, I threw the key i' the +shop door, an' ran doon to the fit o' the street to see the sojers +passin'. Wha presents himsel', merchin' in the front o' the band, but +my billie, Sandy. There he was wi' a hunder laddies roond him, smokin' +his pipe like's he was gettin' his denner ooten't, ane o' his airms up +to the elba in his breeks' pooch, stappin' oot to the musik like a +fechtin' cock, an' his ither airm sweengin' back an' forrit like the +pendilum o' the toon's clock. To look at him you wudda thocht he was +trailin' the band an' a' the sojers ahent him, he lookit that hard +wrocht. He never saw me--not him! His e'en were starin' fair afore +him; he wudna kent his ain tattie cairt, I believe, he was that muckle +taen up wi' his merchin'. + +He landit hame till his tea atween sax an' seven o'clock, stervin' o' +cauld, but as happy's a cricket. "Man, Bawbie," he says, as I laid a +reed herrin' on the brander for him, "there's naething affeks me like +sojers merchin' to musik. It juist garrs my backbeen dirl, an' I canna +sit still. When they were doin' the merch-past this efternune, I had +to up an' rin, or I wudda thrappilt some lad sittin' aside's. That's +the wey it affeks me. I wudda gien a pound note juist to gotten a +richt straucht-forrit fecht amon' them for half an 'oor." + +"You're juist like a muckle bubbly laddie, Sandy," says I. "It's a +winder you wasna awa' up the toon wi' them to see if ony o' the sojers +wud lat you cairry hame their gun. I raley winder to see an auld +tattie man like you goin' on like some roid loon." + +"That's a' you ken, Bawbie," says he. "I ken mair aboot thae things +than you, fully; an', though I am a tattie man, look at Abraham Linkin; +he was waur than a tattie man to begin wi'; an' the Jook o' +Wellinton--michty, he was born in Ireland; an' look what he cam' till! +I tell you what it is, Bawbie, if they'd haen me at the battle o' +Waterloo, you wudda heard anither story o't. I feel'd within mysel', +that if I'd only haen the chance--see 'at that reed herrin's no' +burnin'--I michta been a dreel sergint or a general----" + +"A general haiverin' ass," I strak in. "See; there's your herrin'; +poor oot your tea noo, an' haud your lang tongue." + +"Ow, weel-a-weel," says Sandy, gey dour-like--he's as bucksturdie as a +mule when he tak's't in's heid--"but we're no' deid yet, an' we'll +mibby manish to garr some fowk winder yet, when a's dune. What's been +dune afore can be dune again; the speerit o' Bannockburn's no' de'ed +oot a'thegither." + +But I left the cratur chatterin' awa' till himsel', an' ran but to sair +some fowk i' the shop. Did you ever hear o' sic a man? Dauvid Kenawee +says Sandy's a kind o' a sinnyquanon; an' it's my opeenyin he's no' +very far wrang, whatever that may mean. + +As I was sayin', there's nae fules like auld fules. I put oot +twa-three bits o' things on the green on Setarday forenune, an' I +forgot a' aboot them till efter the shop was shut. It wud be nearhand +twal o'clock when I ran doon for them. It was a fine nicht, but +dreidfu' cauld. Juist as I was gaitherin' up the twa-three bit duds, I +heard voices ower the dyke, an' I cudna but harken to see wha wud be +oot at that time o' nicht. Fancy what I thocht when I heard Beek +Steein's voice, that bides in Mistress Mollison's garret, sayin', "Eh, +ay, Jeemie; it's an awfu' thing luve. I hinna steekit 'an e'e for twa +nichts thinkin' aboot ye." + +Preserve's a', thinks I to mysel', this is Ribekka an' Jeems Ethart, +the engine-driver. Jeems is a weeda man, an' Ribekka's like me, she's +on the wrang side o' forty; but, faigs, on Setarday nicht you wudda +thocht they were baith aboot five-an'-twenty. + +"My bonnie dooie," I heard Jeems say. A gey dooie, I says to mysel'. +There's twal steen o' her, if there's a pund. It wud tak' a gey pair +o' weengs to cairry Ribekka, I tell ye. + +"A'ye genna gie's a kiss, Ribekka?" Jeems says after a whilie; an' +Ribekka gae a bit geegle, an' then whispers laich in, "Help yoursel', +Jeemie"--an' there they were at it like twa young anes. + +I didna ken whuther to flee up the yaird, roar oot "feyre," or clim' up +on the dyke an' gie them a wallop roond the linders wi' my bits o' +cloots. So I stud still. + +The fient a ane o' them ever thocht there was a livin' sowl within +fifty yairds o' them, an' they were crackin' an' kirrooin' awa' like a +pair o' doos. + +"Isn't a peety they dinna ca' me Izik?" says Jeems. + +"Hoo d'ye think that?" said Ribekka. + +"Cause it wudda lookit so fine--Izik an' Ribekka, d'ye see?" an' they +nickered an' leuch like a' that. + +"An' I wudda been Ribekka at the wall," said Beek. + +"Exackly," said Jeems; "altho' this auld pump's hardly the kind o' wall +they had in thae days. I hope there's nae horn-gollochs aboot it." + +"There's twal o'clock," said Ribekka; "we'll need to be goin'. +Gude-nicht, Jeems. See an' mind aboot me. Gude-nicht." + +"Gude-nicht, my ain bonnie lassie," Jeems harken'd in till her. "Dinna +be feared o' me forgettin' ye. I never lift a shuffle o' coals but, I +think I see your face. Every puff o' the engine brings me in mind o' +ye, Ribekka; an' when I sit doon to tak' my denner, I lat fa' my flagon +whiles, I'm that taen up thinkin' aboot ye." + +"Eh, Jeems, you're codin' me noo! But gude-night! Eh, mind ye, it's +Sabbath mornin'." + +"Gude-nicht, my bonnie lassie. Oh, Ribekka, you're sweeter gin heather +honey. I wiss Sint Tammas Market was here, an' we'll be nae langer twa +but wan. My bonnie dooie! Gude-nicht, my ain scentit geranum," says +Jeems. + +I began to be akinda waumish, d'ye ken. The haivers o' the two spooney +craturs juist garred me feel like's I'd taen a fizzy drink or +something. You ken what I mean--the kind o' a' ower kittlie feelin' +that's like to garr you screech, ye dinna ken hoo. + +"Gude-nicht, Jeems," says Beek again. "I'll never luve onybody but +you." + +"Are your shure?" began the auld ass again; an' me stanin' near frozen +to death wi' cauld, an' cudna get oot o' the bit. + +"Never!" said Beek; "never!" + +"Gude-nicht, than, dearie, an' see an' no' forget me. Will ye no'?" + +"Ye needna be feared, Jeems. I luve you alone, an' nae ither body i' +the wide, wide world. Gude-nicht, my Jeemie." + +"Gude-nicht, than, Ribekka, luvie. An' if you dinna forget----" + +But this was ower muckle for me; so I juist roared oot, "Gude-nicht, ye +haiverin' eedeits," as heich as I cud yawl, an' up the yaird at what I +cud flee. + +Sandy was beddit on the back o' ten o'clock, an' he was snorin' like a +dragoon when I gaed up the stair. But when I got anower he jamp up a' +o' a sudden, like's he'd gotten a fleg. + +"Keep me, Bawbie, whaur i' the face o' the earth hae you been?" he +says, wi' his een stanin' in's heid, an' drawin' in his breath like's a +shooer o' cauld water had been skootit aboot him. "You've shurely been +awa' at the whalin'. Bless me, your feet's as cauld's an iceikle. +Keep them awa' frae me." + +Isn't that juist like thae men? Weemin can beat them in mony weys, I +admit; but, for doonricht selfishness, come your wa's! + + + + +XV. + +SANDY MAKES A SPEECH. + +There's been great gaitherin's in oor washin'-hoose this while +back--"Nochties-an'-Broziana," Bandy Wobster ca'd the meetin's to +Sandy. The ither Wedensday i' the forenicht--the shop was shut i' the +efternune, of coorse; I'm a great believer i' the half-holiday, you +see. I think it's a capital idea. It gi'es a body a kind o' a breath +or twa i' the middle o' the week, an' it pits naebody aboot. The fowk +juist come for their things afore you shut. It disna mak' a hair o' +difference. If you didna open ava, they wud juist come the nicht afore. + +Weel, but, as I was sayin', the ither Wedensday nicht I flang my +shallie ower my heid, an' took a stap oot at the back door i' the +gloamin'. It was a fine nicht, an' I sat doon on the simmer-seat at +the gavel o' the washin'-hoose, an' heard the argey-bargeyin' gaen on +inside. I stuid up an' lookit in at the bolie winda, juist abune whaur +the skeels sit, an' here was Sandy an' his cronies a' busy crackin' an' +smokin', an enjoyin' themselves i' the middle o' a great steer o' reek +an' noise. + +Juist as I lookit in, Bandy Wobster said something to Dauvid Kenawee, +an' Dauvid raise, an' takin' his pipe oot o' his moo, says, "Order! I +pirpose Mester Wobster to the chair." + +"Hear, hear," said a' the rest; an' wi' that Bandy got up on the +boiler-heid on his belly, an' turnin' roond, sat wi' the legs o' him +hingin' ower the front o' the boiler, juist like a laddie sittin' on +the dyke at the Common. Watty Finlay, the weaver, shuved anower a tume +butter kit for Bandy to set his feet on, an' then a'body sat quiet, +juist like's something was genna happen. + +Bandy took a bit tarry string, or tabaka or something, ooten his breeks +pooch, an', nippin' aff a quarter o' a yaird o't, he into his moo wi't. +Syne he swallowed a spittal, an' said--"Freends an' fella ratepeyers." +Bandy never pey'd rates in's life. He bides in a twa-pound garret i' +the Wyndies, an' hardly ever peys rent, lat aleen rates. "Freends an' +fella ratepeyers," says he. + +Bandy was stan'in' up on the boddom o' the butter kit gin this time, +an' a' the billies were harkenin' like onything. + +"Freends an' fella ratepeyers," says Bandy again. "See gin that door's +on the sneck, Sandy, an' dinna lat the can'le blaw oot." + +Sandy raise an' put to the door, an' set the can'le alang nearer Bandy +a bit, an' then sat doon i' the sofa again. + +"I hinna muckle to say," says Bandy. Bandy was brocht up in Aiberdeen, +you ken, an' he has whiles a gey queer wey o' speakin'. "I hinna very +muckle to say, you ken," says he, "an' konsequently, I'll no' say very +muckle." + +"Hear, hear," roared Watty Finlay. + +"The Toon Cooncil elections is leemin' in the distance," continued +Bandy, "an', as ceetizens o' the Breetish Empyre, we maun look oot for +fit an' proper persons to reprisent the opinions o' the democracy in +the Hoose o'--in the Toon Hoose, an' on the Police Commission. +Gentlemen----" + +This garred a' the billies sit back in their seats, an' dicht their +moos wi' their jeckit sleeves, an' host. Watty Finlay nearhand cowpit +ower the bucket he was sittin' on; but he got his balance again, an' +sayin', "Ay, man," heich oot, he got a' richt sattled doon again. + +"Gentlemen," says Bandy, "the time for action draws at hand. Oor +watter is no fit for ki drinking; an' there's fient a thing but watter +in the weet dock. My heart bleeds when I go roond the shore an' see +all the ships sailin' oot o' the herbir, an' no' a livin' sowl comin' +in. Gentlemen, that herbir's growin' a gijantic white elephant." + +"An' so's the Watter Toor, an' the Lifeboat too," roared Dauvid Kenawee. + +"The toon's foo o' white elephants, a' colours," said Moses Certricht. +"The Toon Cooncil's made it juist like a wild beast show." + +"Hear, hear," cried the whole lot; an' Stumpie Mertin, gettin' a little +excited, roared "Order," an' set them a' a-lauchin'. + +"Gentlemen," said Bandy again, "it's as plen's a pikestaff that a' oor +municeepal affairs is clean gaen to the deevil a'thegither; an' I have +much pleasure----" + +"Hear, hear," said Watty Finlay, "he's the very man." There was a bit +lauch at this, an' Watty added, "I mean Sandy, of coorse--no' the +deevil 'at Bandy was speakin' aboot." + +"I was genna say," said Bandy, "when I was interrupit by the honourable +gentleman----" + +"O, gie's a rest," said Watty; an' Bandy had to begin again. + +"I was genna say," he said, "that we maun get a hand o' a puckle men o' +abeelity an' straucht-forritness, an' I have much pleasure in proposin' +a vote of thanks to oor worthy freend, Mester Bowden, for comin' forrit +to abolish the Toon Cooncil o' every rissim o' imposeeshin, till +taxation shall vanish into oblivion, an' be a thing o' the past. +Mester Bowden is a man----" + +"Hear, hear," says Watty again. + +"Mester Bowden is a man that will never do onything----" + +"Hear, hear," Watty stricks in again. He juist yatter-yattered awa' +like a parrot a' the time. + +"Onything below the belt," proceeded Bandy. "Give him your votes, +gentlemen. I can recommend him. Sandy--I mean Mester Bowden, will +stick to his post like Cassybeeanka, or whatever they ca'd the billie +that was brunt at the battle o' the Nile. He'll no' be like some o' +them that, like Ralph the Rover, + + Sailed away, + An' scoored the sea for mony a day. + +Gentlemen, let everywan here do his very best to get every elektor to +vote for Sandy, Mester Bowden, the pop'lar candidate. Up wi' him to +the tap o' the poll!" + +Bandy cam' doon wi' his tackety buit on the boddom o' the butter kit, +an' in it gaed, an' him wi't, an' there he was, clappin' his hands, an' +stanin' juist like's he'd on a wid crinoline. You never heard sic a +roostin' an' roarin' an' hear-hearin' an' hurrain'! I had to shut my +een for fear o' bein' knokit deaf a'thegither. Stumpie Mertin jumpit +up as spruce as gin he had baith his legs, instead o' only ane, an' +forgettin' whaur he was, he glowered a' roond the wa' an' says, +"Whaur's the bell, lads?" + +It was Sandy's turn noo; an' efter Dauvid Kenawee, auld Geordie Steel, +an' Moses Certricht had gotten the chairman pu'd oot o' the butter kit, +an' on to the boiler-heid again, Sandy raise ooten his seat wi' a look +on his face like a nicht watchman. They a' swang their airms roond +their heids, an' hurraed like onything, an' Sandy took lang breaths, +an' lookit roond him as gin he was feard some o' them wud tak' him a +peelik i' the lug. + +When they quieted doon, Sandy gae a host, an' Watty Finlay said, "Hear, +hear." + +"Fella elektors," said Sandy, "let me thank you for your cordial +reception." + +Sandy had haen that ready aforehand, for he said her aff juist like +"Man's Chief End." Syne he lifted his fit an' put it on the edge o' +the sofa. He rested his elba on his knee, an' his chin on his hand, +an' lookit quite at hame, like's he'd been accustomed addressin' +meetin's a' his born days. + +"I think oor worthy chairman spoke ower high aboot my abeelity," said +Sandy; "but as far as lies in my pooer, I will never budge from my +post, but stand firm." At this point, Sandy's fit slippit aff the edge +o' the sofa, an' he cam' stoit doon an' gae Moses Certricht a daud i' +the lug wi' the croon o' his heid, that sent Moses' heid rap up again' +Dauvid Kenawee's. + +"What i' the world are ye heavin' aboot that heid o' yours like that +for?" said Dauvid, glowerin' like a wild cat at Moses: an' Bandy kickit +his heels on the front o' the boiler, an' roared, "Order, gentlemen. +Respeck the chair!" + +I was juist away to cry--"Ye micht respeck my boiler, raither, an' no' +kick holes i' the plester wi' thae muckle clunkers o' heels o' yours"; +but I keepit it in. + +Sandy got himsel' steadied up again, an' pulled doon his weyscot, syne +gae his moo a dicht, an' buttoned his coat. I cud see fine that he was +tryin' to keep up the English; but it wasna good enough. "I am no' a +man o' learnin'," said Sandy. "I'm a wirkin' man, an' if I tak' up my +heid wi' publik affairs, it's 'cause I've naething else ado, and it'll +keep me oot o' langer. As oor respeckit chairman says, I'm no' like +Ralph the Rover, sailin' awa' an' scoorin' the sea for mony a day. +That looks like a pure weyst o' soap--juist like what goes on i' the +Toon Cooncil daily-day. You may lauch, freends, but it's ower true; +an' wha is't peys for't?" + +"It's his! It's his, lads!" roared a' the billies i' the washin'-hoose. + +"It is so," said Sandy. "Oor Toon Cooncil's juist like this Ralph the +Rover, gaen awa' scoorin' the sea for nae end--for the sea's no' +needin' scoorin'--when he michta been at hame helpin' his wife to ca' +the washin'-machine. It's usef'u' wark we want. Neen o' your Bailie +Thingymabob's capers, wi' his donkey engines, eksettera. Echt thoosand +pound for a noo kirkyaird! Did ye ever hear the like! What aboot the +grand view you get? A puckle o' thae Cooncillors crack as gin they +were genna pet bow-windas into a' the graves, to lat ye hae a grand +view efter you was buried. Blethers o' nonsense! That's juist what I +ca' scoorin' the sea like Ralph the Rover." + +By faigs, lads, Sandy garred me winder gin this time. Ye never heard +hoo he laid it into them, steekin' his nivs an' layin' aboot him wi' +his airms. + +"Echt thoosand pound!" he roars again. "That's seven shillin's the +heid--man, woman, and bairn i' the toon o' Arbroath. What d'ye think +o' that? But that's no' a'. There's the toon's midden, too; that's +needin' a look intil." + +"Hear, hear," put in Watty as uswal; an' Bandy added, "It has muckle +need, as my nose can tell ye." + +"What d'ye think o' a midden i' the very middle o' your toon?" Sandy +gaed on. "I paws for an answer," he said in a gravedigger's kind o' a +voice. He crossed his legs ower ane anither, an' put ane o' his hands +in ablo the tails o' his coat; an', gettin' akinda aff his balance, he +gaed spung up again' Bandy Wobster. There was a crunch an' a splash, +an' there was the chairman's bowd legs stickin' up oot o' the boiler, +an' his face lookin' throo atween his taes, wi' a pair o' een like a +wild cat. He was up to the neck amon' the claes I had steepin' for the +morn's washin'. The nesty footer that he was, I cudda dune I kenna +what till him. + +"Ye great, big, clorty, tarry beast," I roared in at the winda; "come +oot amon' my claes this meenit, or I'll come in an' kin'le the fire, +an' boil ye." Sandy bloo oot the can'le; an' by a' the how-d'ye-does +ever was heard tell o', you niver heard the marrow o' yon. Stumpie +Mertin roared "Order! Feyre!" at the pitch o' his voice; an' the +chairman was yowlin', "For ony sake, gie's a grip o' some o' your hands +till I get oot o' this draw-wall, or I'm a deid man." + +I think he had gotten haud o' a shelf abune his heid, an' giein' +himsel' a poo up; for there was a most terriple reeshel o' broken +bottles, an' beef tins, an' roarin' an' swearin', you never heard the +like. + +"What i' the face o' the earth was ye doin' blawin' oot the can'le, +Sandy?" said Dauvid Kenawee. "Hold on a meenit till I strik' a spunk, +an' see wha's a' deid," he says; an' wi' that he strak' a match an' +lichtit the can'le. Bandy had gotten himsel' akinda warsled oot o' the +boiler, but Stumpie Mertin had tnakit his wid leg ower by the ankle, +an' there he was hawpin' aboot, gaen bobbin' up an' doon like a +rabbit's tail, roarin' "Murder!" + +"I think we'll better lave ower the rest o' the meetin' till anither +nicht," said Moses Certricht, "an' we can look into the toon's midden +some ither time." + +"Juist tak' a look roond aboot ye," says I, in at the winda, "an' ye'll +see midden eneuch. Wha's genna clean up that mairter? I paws for a +answer," says I, in a voice as like Sandy's bural-society wey o' +speakin' as I cud manish. "Speak aboot pettin' Sandy Bowden at the tap +o' the poll. He'll be mair use at the end o' the bissam shaft, I'm +thinkin'." + +"C'wey, you lads," says Bandy. "I'm soakin' dreepin' throo an' throo, +an' it's time I was oot o' this." + +"Hear, hear," says Watty again; an' oot the entry they a' merched +withoot a wird. If I'm no mista'en that'll be the end o' Sandy's Toon +Cooncillin'; an' time till't, I think. The man's no' wyse to think +aboot ony sic thing. Perfeckly ridic'lous! + +Sandy an' me were oot the Sands enjoyin' a bit walk juist yesterday +efternune, an' we were dreedfu' quiet. There didna appear to be +onything to speak aboot ava. So I juist said in a kind o' jokey wey, +"Ay, Sandy, an' hae ye seen the Ward Committee yet, laddie, aboot that +Toon Cooncil bisness." + +As shure's ocht, he grew reed i' the face; but he got richt efter a +whilie, an' he says, "We're genna be like the Skule Brod efter this, +Bawbie. We'll hae oor meetin's in private, an' juist lat you an' the +publik ken aboot bits o' things ya can mak' naething o'. D'ye see? If +ye pet your nose in aboot ony bolies harkenin', you'll mibby get the +wecht o' a bissam shaft on the end o't. That'll learn ye to slooch an' +harken to ither fowk's bisness." + +"Keep me!" says I, I says. "Ye're terriple peppery the nicht, Sandy. +Wha's been straikin' you against the hair, cratur? It wasna me that +shuved Bandy i' the boiler; but he'd been neen the waur o' a bit steep, +for he trails aboot a clorty-like sicht. Him speak aboot the watter +supply! It's no' muckle he kens aboot the watter supply, or the soap +supply ether." + +"Look here, Bawbie," says Sandy, "if you're genna rag me ony mair aboot +that, it's as fac's ocht, I'll rin awa' an' join the mileeshie. I wud +raither be blawn into minch wi' an' echty-ton gun than stand ony mair +o' your gab." + +"Tut, tut, Sandy," says I, "keep on your dickie, man. Ye're no' +needin' to get into a pavey like that. Keep me, fowk wud think ye was +discussin' the auld kirk questin, the wey you're roarin'. The +mileeshie wudna hae you at ony rate, an' we're no' juist dune wi' ye at +hame yet. But neist time you're makin' a speech, Sandy, dinna try an' +stand on ae leg. That's what put ye aff the straucht. Ye see----" + +I lookit roond, an' Sandy wasna there. When I turned, here's him +fleein' in the Sands wi' his fingers in his lugs, like spring-heeled +Jeck. I tell ye, that man winna heed a single wird I say till him. + + + + +XVI. + +SANDY'S CHRISTMAS PRESENT. + +Oh, wheesht! When Sandy's on for doin' something special, he nearhand +aye mak's a gutter o't some wey or ither. On Setarday nicht he was +gaen aboot hostin', an' spittin', an' sayin' ilky noo an' than, "Ay, +Bawbie; it's a fine nicht the nicht." He sweepit oot ahent the washin' +soda barrel twa-three times; then he rowed up the tnock that ticht that +she's never steered a meenit sin' syne. He took the hammer an' ca'd a' +the coals fair into koom, an' then he redd up at the back shop till I +cudna lay my hands on a single thing 'at I wantit. I saw fine there +was something i' the wind; but, do my best, I cudna jaloose what it was. + +He put on the shop shutters, an' syne screwed aff the gas at the meeter +afore I got the bawbees oot o' the till, an' stack in, ye never saw the +like. He was that anxious to gie me a hand that he hendered me near +half an 'oor. + +This gaed on a' Sabbath! He was three times at the kirk, an' he +roostit an' sang till the bit lassies i' the very koir lookit aboot +akinda feard like. But Sandy never jowed his jundie. He put in +anither button o' his coat, an' stack in till the Auld Hunder like the +Jook o' Wellinton at the battle o' Waterloo. The koir sang an anthem +i' the efternune, an' Sandy sang anither at the same time, the rest o' +the fowk harkenin' to the competition. Sandy gaed squawlin' an' +squawkin' up an' doon amon' the quivers, an' through the middle o' what +he ca'd the cruchits, juist like a young pairtrick amon' a pozel o' +hag. Mistress Glendie, that sits at the tap o' oor seat, is a bit o' a +singer, an' she put back her lugs an' skooled like a fountin' mule at +Sandy, oot at the corner o' her specks; but Sandy never lut dab. His +een, when he hadna his nose buried in his book, were awa' i' the roof +o' the kirk, an' Mistress Glendie never got a squawk in ava, eksep when +Sandy was swallowin' his spittal. + +Gaen to the kirk at nicht was something to mind aboot. There wasna a +lamp to be seen--an' sic roads! The very laddies frae the Sabbath +Schule were gaen on the paidmint, whaur there were maist gutters, an' +skowf kickin' them at ane anither. The middle o' the road cudna haud +the can'le to the paidmints for glaur lest Sabbath. Sandy an' me gaed +kloiterin' alang the Port, Sandy yatterin' ilky noo-an'-than--"Keep on +the plennies, 'oman." He was keepin' his e'e on his feet that steady, +that, afore I kent whaur I was, he had baith o's wammlin' aboot amon' +the gutters doon the Dens. He'd taen the wrang side o' the dyke at the +fit o' the High Road, an' awa' doon the brae instead o' up! We saw the +muckle lamp up abune the brig juist like a lichthoose twenty mile awa'. +Sandy was widin' aboot amon' the mud, an' his lorn shune liftin' wi' a +noisy gluck, juist like a pump aff the fang. + +"I think this is shurely the Sloch o' Dispond we've gotten intil, +Bawbie," says he. + +"It looks liker the Wardmill Dam," says I, I says; "but if I get oot +o't livin', I'll lat the pileece hear o't. A gey Lichtin' Commitee we +have, to hae fowk wammlin' aboot i' the mirk like this on their wey to +the kirk! There's ower muckle keepin' fowk i' the dark a' roond," says +I, I says; "an' there maun be an end till't. It's a perfeck scandal." + +Juist at this meenit Sandy got grips o' the railin' o' the stair, an' +him an' me got ane anither trailed up some wey or ither. Gin I got on +the paidmint, I was slippin' here an' there like some lassie on the +skeetchin' pond, till doon I skaikit, skloit on the braid o' my back, +an' left my life-size engravin' i' the middle o' the road. Eh, it was +a gude thing I didna hae on my best frock! I shiftit at tea-time, for +thae gutters mak' sic a dreedfu' mairter o' a body. + +"It's a black, burnin' shame," says Sandy, as he gaithered me up; "an' +I howp some o' thae Lichtin' Commitee chappies 'ill get a dook amon' +the gutters the nicht for this pliskie o' theirs. It's a fine nicht +fort. Fowk peyin' nae end o' rates, an' a' the streets as dark as a +cell--a sell it is, an' nae mistak'. Feech! I tell ye, what it is an' +what it's no', Bawbie----" + +"Wheesht, Sandy," says I. "Keep me, if ye go on rantin' like that, the +fowk 'ill think ye've startit the street preachin'. Haud your lang +tongue. I'm no' michty muckle the waur." + +Sandy took oot his tnife an' gae me a bit skrape; an' we landit at the +kirk an' got a rale gude sermon aboot the birkie 'at belanged to +Simaria an' fell on his road hame, an' so on. I wasna muckle the waur +o't efter a'--o' the fa', I mean, of coorse, no' the sermon--an', when +we got hame, I got aff my goon; an' tho' Sandy gae the Lichtin' +Commitee an' the gutter-raikers a gey haf-'oor's throo the mill, I +didna think muckle mair aboot it. + +But, as I was sayin', this was a' leadin' up to something. Sandy cudna +sit still at nicht, an' he sang an' smokit till, atween bein' deaved +an' scumfished, I was nearhand seek. Efter readin' oor chapter, I gaed +awa' to my bed. I lookit up twa-three times an' saw Sandy sittin' +afore the fire, twirlin' his thooms, an' gien a bit whistle noo an' +than. Efter a while he put oot the gas, an' syne began to tak' aff his +claes, an' wide aboot amon' the furniture as uswal. He got intil his +bed efter a quarter o' an oor's miscellaneous scramblin', an' was sune +snorin' like a dragoon. + +When I got atower i' the mornin', what is there sittin' on my chair but +a great muckle shortie in a braw box, wi' a Christmas caird on the tap +o't. When I opened the box here's ane o' my stockin's lyin' on the tap +o' a great big cake, juist like this:-- + + To + B. BOWDEN + from a + F IEND + +I lookit anower at Sandy, an' here's him lyin' wi' a look on his face +like's he was wantin' on the Parochial Buird. + +"Eh, Sandy! What a man you are!" I says, says I; for, mind you, I was +a richt prood woman on Munanday mornin'. + +"It was Sandy Claws, 'oman," says he, lauchin'. "He cudna get the box +into your stockin', so he juist put your stockin' into the box. But +it's juist sax an' half a dizzen, I suppose." + +I hude up the cake to the licht, an' read oot the braw white sugar +letters--"'To B. Bowden from a Fiend.' But wha's the fiend, Sandy?" +says I, I says. + +"Fiend!" roared Sandy, jumpin' ooten his bed. "Lat's see't." + +He glowered at the cake like's he was tryin' to mismerise somebody; an' +then he says, "See a haud o' my troosers there, Bawbie. I'll go doon +an' pet that baker through his mixin' machine. I'll lat him see what +kind o' a fiend I am. I'll fiend him." + +"Hover a blink, Sandy," says I. "Here's ane o' the letters stickin' to +my stokin'." Shure eneuch, here was a great big "R" stickin' to the +ribs o' my stockin'; so I juist took a lickie glue an' stak her on the +cake, an' made it read a' richt. Sandy was rale pleased when he saw me +so big aboot my cake; an' he's been trailin' in aboot a' the neepers to +see "the wife's cake," as he ca's't. An' he stands wi' his thooms i' +the oxter holes o' his weyscot, an' lauchs, an' says, "Tyuch; naething +ava; no wirth speakin' aboot," when I tell them hoo big I am aboot it. + +She's genna be broken on Munanday--Nooeer's-day. If you're pasain' oor +wey, look in an' get a crummie. I'll be richt gled to see you, I'm +shure. A happy noo 'ear to you, when it comes--an' mony may ye see! +Ah-hy! Gude-day wi' ye i' the noo than! Imphm! Gude-day. See an' +gie's a cry in on Munanday, noo-na. Ta-ta! + + + + +XVII. + +AT THE SELECT CHOIR'S CONCERT. + +Sin' Friday nicht I've been gaen aboot wi' my hert an' moo fu' o' +musik! Eh, hoo I did enjoy yon Gleeka Koir's singin'. I hinna heard +onything like it for mony a day. D'ye ken, fine musik juist affeks me +like a gude preechin'--an' waur whiles. I canna help frae thinkin' +aboot it. The tune I've been hearin' 'ill come into my heid at a' +times; an' here I'll be maybe croonin' awa' i' the shop to mysel' "Will +ye no' come back again?" an' gien somebody mustard instead o' peysmeal, +an', of coorse, it comes back again, an' a gey wey o' doin' wi't, an' +nae mistak'. + +But, eh, I enjoyed the Burns Club concert! Sandy an' me was doon at +the hall on the back o' seven o'clock, an' we got set doon at the end +o' ane o' the farrest-forrit sixpenny seats, an' got a lean on the back +o' ane o' the shilliny anes. We was gey gled we gaed doon early, for +the hall was foo juist in a clap; an' gin aucht o'clock, Sandy tells +me, they were offerin' half-a-croon to get their lug to the keyhole. +It was an awfu' crush. + +There was a gey pompis-like carlie cam' an' tried to birz Sandy an' me +up the seat; but Sandy sune made a job o' him. + +"Have you a ticket?" says Sandy. + +"Ay, have I," says the carlie, curlin' up his lips gey snappish-like; +"I have a three-shillin' ticket." + +"Ay, weel, awa' oot o' this," says Sandy. "This is the sikey seats, +an' we dinna want ony o' you chappies poachin' amon' his lads. If +you've only a three-shilliny ticket, you'll awa' oot o' this, gey +smert," says Sandy; an' a lot o' the fowk backit him up, an' faigs, +mind ye, the carlie had to crawl awa' forrit again, whaur he cam' frae. +The cheek o' the cratur! Thocht, mind ye, he wud get crushed in amon' +his sikey fowk wi' his three-shilliny ticket! + +Whenever the singin' began ye wudda heard a preen fa'. "There was a +lad was born in Kyle," juist nearhand garred Sandy jump aff his seat. +He cud hardly keep his feet still, an' he noddit his heid frae side to +side, an' leuch, like's he was some noo-married king drivin' awa' throo +the streets o' London till his honeymune. Syne at "My luve she's like +a reed, reed rose," he smakit his lips, an' turned his een up to the +ruif, an' lookit to me twa-three times like's he was genna tak' a dwam +o' some kind. That used to be a favourite sang o' Pecker Donnit's when +he precentit up at Dimbarrow. Eh, mony's the time I've heard him at +it. Ye'll mind fine o' the Peeker? He bade ower i' yon cottar hoose, +wast a bittie frae the Whin Inn. He had twa dochters, ye'll mind, an' +a he-cat that killed whitterits wi' a blind e'e. Eh, ay; that's mony a +lang day syne! But I'm awa' frae my story. + +I cudna tell ye which o' the bits I likeit best. I juist sat nearhand +a' nicht fairly entranced. I thocht yon twa kimmers that sang "The +Banks an' Braes o' Bonnie Boon" did awfu' pritty. Raley, my hert was +i' my moo twa-three times when they were at the bitties whaur they sang +laich, juist like the sooch-soochin' o' the hairst wind i' the +forenicht amon' the stocks. Sandy was sweengin' aboot in his seat, +like's he was learnin' the velocipede, an' takin' a lang breath ilky +noo-an'-than, an' sayin', "Imphm; ay, man; juist that." He riffed when +the lassies sat doon, till ye wud thocht he wudda haen his hands +blistered; but I think he was gled o' onything to do, juist to lat him +get himsel' gien vent. + +When the koir startit to sing aboot Willie Wastle, Sandy nickered awa' +like a noo-spain'd foal, an' aye when they cam' to the henmist line o' +the verse he gae me a prog i' the ribs wi' his elba, as much as to say, +"That's ane for you, Bawbie!" But I watched him, an' at the henmist +verse, when they said terriple quick, "I wudna gie a button for her," I +juist edged alang a bittie, an' Sandy's elba missin', he juist exakly +landit pargeddis in a fisherwife's lap that was sittin' ahent's. There +was plenty o' lauchin' an' clappin' whaur we was, I can tell ye. + +I likeit "Scots wha hae," an' the "Macgregor's Gaitherin'." I thocht +yon was juist grand. When they were singin' "Scots wha hae," Sandy +glowered a' roond aboot him like's he wudda likeit to ken if onybody +wantit a fecht. What a soond there was at the strong bits. The feint +a ane o' me kens whaur yon men an' weemin' get a' yon soond. At some +o' the lines o' the "Macgregor's Gaitherin'" it was like the wind +thunderin' doon Glen Tanner, or the Rooshyan guns at Sebastypool. I +cudna help frae notisin' hoo it garred a'body sit straucht up. When +yon lassie was singin' sae bonnie, "John Anderson, my Jo," a' the +fowk's heids were hingin'; but at "Scots wha hae" they sat up like life +gairds, and ilky body near me lookit like's it wudna be cannie speakin' +to them. + +There was ae thing they sang that wasna on the programme that I thocht +awfu' muckle o'. It was something aboot "Tramp! Tramp! Tramp!" Ane +o' the lassies sang a bit hersel' here an' there, an' eh, what splendid +it was. She gaed up an' doon amon' the notes juist like forkit +lichtnin', an her voice rang oot as clear as a bell. It was raley +something terriple pritty. When she feenished ye wudda thocht the fowk +was genna ding doon the hoose. "Man, that raley snecks a' green thing; +it fair cowps the cairt ower onything ever I heard," says Sandy, gien +his nose a dicht wi' the back o' his hand. "That dame has raley a +grand pipe; ye wud winder whaur she fand room for a' the wind she maun +need." A foll curn fowk startit to the lauchin' when Sandy said this; +but, faigs, mind ye, the lassie fairly astonished me. + +When the votes o' thanks were gien oot, Sandy riffed an' rattled oot o' +a' measure. I thocht ance or twice he wud be up to the pletform to say +a wird or twa himsel', he was that excited. Syne when "Auld Lang Syne" +was mentioned, he sprang till his feet, evened his gravat, pulled doon +his weyscot, put a' the buttons intil his coat, an' swallowed a +spittal. An' hoo he tootit an' sang! I thocht the precentor that was +beatin' time lookit across at him twa-three times, he was roostin' an' +roarin' at sic a rate. He sang at the pitch o' his voice-- + + Shud auld acquantance be forgot, + An' never brocht to mind, + +an' syne gien me a great daud on the shuder wi' his elba, he says, +"Sing quicker, Bawbie"-- + + For the days o' auld langsyne. + +There was a fisher ahent's that strak' in wi' the chorus an' made an' +awfu' gutter o't. He yalpit awa' a' on ae note, juist like's he was +roarin' to somebody to lowse the penter; an' though Sandy keepit gaen, +he was in a richt raise. + +"That roarin' nowt's juist makin' a pure soss o't," he says, when we +finished. "Ye wud easy ken he had learned his singin' at the sea"; an' +he glowered roond at him gey ill-natir'd like, an' says, "Haud your +tung, ye roarin' cuif." Syne he grippit the fisher's hand wi' ane o' +his, an' mine wi' the ither, an' startit-- + + An' here's a hand, my trusty fraend, eksettera. + +The fisher lookit gey dumfoondered like, an' never lut anither peek; +but Sandy stack in like a larry-horse till the feenish, an' he cam' +hame a' the road sayin', "Man, that's raley been a treat!" + +It was that, an' nae mistak', an' as the chairman said, it'll be a +memorable concert to mony a ane. + + + + +XVIII. + +SANDY RUNS A RACE. + +Weel, I'll tell ye what it is, an' what it's no'--I thocht the ither +nicht that Sandy had gotten to the far end o' his ongaens. If ever a +woman thocht she was genna hae to don her weeda's weeds, it was me. I +never expeckit to see Sandy again, till he was brocht in on the police +streetchin' buird. But I'll better begin my story at the beginnin'. +What needs I care whuther fowk kens a' aboot it, or no'? I've been +black affrontit that often, I dinna care a doaken noo what happens. +I've dune my best to be a faithfu' wife; an' I'm shure I've trauchled +awa' an' putten up wi' a man that ony ither woman wudda pushon'd twenty +'ear syne! But that's nether here nor there. + +Weel, to get to my story. Aboot a week syne I was busy at the back +door, hingin' oot some bits o' things, an', hearin' some din i' the +back shop, I took a bit glint in at the winda. Fancy my surprise, when +here's Sandy i' the middle o' the flure garrin' his airms an' legs flee +like the shakers o' Robbie Smith's "deevil." + +"What i' the earth is he up till noo?" says I to mysel'. He stoppit +efter a whilie, an' syne my lad quietly tnaks twa raw eggs on the edge +o' a cup, an' doon his thrapple wi' them. He brook up the shalls into +little bitties an' steered them in amon' the ase, so's I wudna see +them. Atower to the middle o' the flure he comes again, an', stridin' +his legs oot, he began to garr first the tae airm an' syne the tither +gae whirlin' roond an' roond like the fly wheel o' an engine. It +mindit me o' the schule laddies an' their bummers. Weel, than; I goes +my wa's into the hoose. + +"Ay, it's a fine thing an egg, Sandy," says I; "especially twa." I +turned roond to the dresser-heid, no' to lat him see me lauchin'--for I +cudna keep it in--an' pretendit to be lookin' for something. + +"It is so, Bawbie," says he; an' I noticed him i' the lookin'-gless +pettin' his thoom till his nose. I whiskit roond aboot gey quick, an' +he drappit his hands like lichtnin', an' began whistlin' "Tillygorm." + +"I've heard it said," says I, "that a raw egg's gude for a yooky nose." + +"You're aye hearin' some blethers," says he; "but there's Robbie +Mershell i' the shop"; an' but he ran to sair him. + +I kent fine there was something up, so I keepit my lugs an' een open, +but it beat me to get at the boddom o't. Pottie Lawson, Bandy Wobster, +an' Sandy have juist been thick an' three faud sin the Hielant games +toornament, an' I kent fine there was some pliskie brooin' amon' them. +They've hardly ever been oot o' the washin'-hoose, them an' twa-three +mair. Great, muckle, hingin'-aboot, ill-faured scoonges, every ane o' +them! I tell ye, Sandy hasna dune a hand's turn for the lest week, but +haikit aboot wi' them, plesterin' aboot this thing an' that. Feech! +If I was a man, as I'm a woman, I wud kick the whole box an' dice o' +them oot the entry. + +I gaed by the washin'-hoose door twa-three times, an' heard the +spittin', an' the ochin' an' ayin', an' some bletherin' aboot +sprentin', an' rubbin' doon, an' sic like; but I cud mak' nether heid +nor tail o't. But, I can tell ye, baith heid an' tail o't cam' oot on +Setarday nicht. + +Sandy, as uswal, put on his goshores on Setarday efternune, an' awa' he +gaed aboot five o'clock, an' I saw nae mair o' him till the lang legs +o' him---- But you'll learn aboot that sune eneuch. It was a sicht, +the first sicht I got o' him, I can tell you. + +I was takin' a bit cuppie o' tea to mysel' aboot seven o'clock, for I +had been terriple busy a' forenicht. Nathan was stanin' at the table +as uswal, growk-growkin' awa' for a bit o' my tea biskit. "I dinna +like growkin' bairns," I says to Nathan, juist as I was genna gie him a +bit piece an' some noo grozer jeel on't. + +"I'm no' carin'," he says, blawin' his nose atween his finger an' his +thoom, an' syne dichtin't wi' his bonnet. "I wasna growkin'; but at +ony rate I'll no tell ye aboot Sandy. He said he wud gie me a +letherin' if I was a clash-pie; but I was juist genna tell you, but +I'll no' do't noo," an' oot at the door he gaed. I cried on him to +come back, but, yea wud! + +I saw nae mair o' him for half an 'oor, when in he comes to the back +shop wi' a bundle o' claes an' flang them i' the flure. "There's +Sandy's claes," says he. "I got them frae Bandy Wobster at the tap o' +the street. He got them lyin' oot the Sands, an' he disna ken naething +aboot Sandy." + +"O, Alick Bowden," I says to mysel', says I; "I kent this would be the +end o't some day! He's gane awa' dookin' an' gotten himsel' drooned. +O, my puir man! I howp they'll get his body, or never anither bit o' +fish will I eat! There's Mistress Mertin fand a galace button in a +red-waur codlin's guts lest week; an' it's no' so very lang syne sin' +Mistress Kenawee got fower bits o' skellie i' the crap o' a colomy. +Puir Sandy! I winder hoo they'll do wi' the bural society bawbees?" + +"Is Sandy deid, Bawbie?" says Nathan. + +"Ay; I doot he's deid, Nathan, laddie," says I. + +"An' will you lat me get a ride on the dickie at the bural, Bawbie?" +says Nathan, clawin' his heid throo a hole in his glengairy. + +"Haud your tongue, laddie," says I; "ye dinna ken what you're speakin' +aboot." + +I gaithered up the claes. There was nae mistakin' them. They were +Sandy's! The breeks pooches were foo o' nails an' strings, an' as +muckle ither rubbish as you wudda gotten in Peattie Broon's, the +pigman's, back shop. There was a lot o' fiddle rozit i' the weyscot, +an' a box o' queer-lookin' ointment ca'd auntie stuff. But what strack +me first was that his seamit an' his drawers werena there. "Cud he +gane in dookin' wi' them on?" thocht I to mysel'. I cudna see throo't +ava. + +I gaed awa' to the shop door juist to look oot, an' I sees Pottie +Lawson, Bandy Wobster, an' twa-three mair at the tap o' the street +lauchin' like ony thing. I throo the key i' the door in a blink, an' +up the street I goes. Pottie was juist in the middle o' a great +hallach o' a lauch, when I grippit him by the collar. He swallowed the +rest o' his lauch, I can tell you. + +"What hae ye dune till my man, ye nesty, clorty, ill-lookin', +mischeevious footer?" I says, giein' him a shak' that garred him turn +up the white o' his een. + +"Tak' your hand off me, you ill-tongued bissam," saya he, "or I'll lay +your feet fest for you." + +"Will you?" says I; an' I gae him a shuve that kowpit him +heels-ower-heid ower the tap o' Gairner Winton's ae-wheeled barrow, +that was sittin' ahent him. When he got himsel' gaithered oot amon' +the peycods an' cabbitch, he was genna be at me, but Dauvid Kenawee +stappit forrit, an' says he, "Saira ye richt, ye gude-for-naething +snipe 'at ye are. Lift a hand till her, an' I'll ca' the chafts o' ye +by ither." + +"What bisness hae you shuvin' your nose in?" says Pottie Lawson. +"There was naebody middlin' wi' you." + +"Juist you keep your moo steekit, Pottie," says Dauvid, "or I'll mibby +be middlin' wi' you. You're a miserable pack o' vagues, a' the lot o' +ye, to gae wa' an' tak' advantage o' an' auld man! Yah! Damish your +skins, I cud thrash the whole pack o' ye." He up wi' his niv an' took +a hawp forrit. Pottie gaed apung ower the barrow again, an' sat doon +on the tap o' the Gairner, wha was busy gaitherin' up his gudes. + +"Come awa', Bawbie," says Dauvid, takin' a haud o' my airm, "Sandy 'ill +turn up yet." So awa' we gaed, leavin' the fower or five o' them +wammlin' awa' amon' the cabbitch, juist like what swine generally do +when they get in amon' a gairner's stocks. + +"Sandy's a fulish man," said Dauvid, when we landit at the shop door. + +"Ye micht as weel tell me that twice twa's fower, Dauvid," says I. +"Fulish is no' the wird for't." + +"There's been some haiverin' amon' them aboot rinnin'; an' Sandy, like +an auld fule, had been bouncin' aboot what he could do," gaed on +Dauvid, withoot mindin' what I said. "Sandy's fair gyte aboot fitba' +an' harryin' an' sic like ploys. Weel-a-weel, Pottie Lawson an' +twa-three mair o' them got Sandy to mak' a wadger o' five bob that he +wud rin three miles in twenty-five meenits oot the Sands, an' they tell +me Sandy's been oot twa-three times trainin' himsel'. To mak' a lang +story short--Bandy Wobster gae me the particulars--the race cam' aff +the nicht. Sandy strippit juist doon at the second slippie on the +Sands yonder. He keepit naething on but his inside sark, an' his +drawers, an' a pair o' slippers, an' aff he set to rin ootby to the +targets an' back. He wasna fower meenits awa' when the lot o' the +dirty deevils--that I shud ca' them sic a name--gaithered up Sandy's +claes an' cam' their wa's in the road, leavin' Sandy to get hame the +best wey he cud. Bandy Wobster gae the claes to Nathan at the tap o' +the street, an' tell'd him he fand them on the Sands." + +"But whaur'll Sandy be?" says I. + +"That's mair than I can tell, Bawbie; but I'll rin doon for the +mistress, an' she'll look efter the shop till we gae oot the Sands an' +see if we can fa' in wi' him," said Dauvid. + +Dauvid gaed awa' for Mistress Kenawee, an' I ran up the stair to the +garret to throw on my bonnet, takin' Sandy's claes wi' me. Preserve's +a', when I lookit into the garret, here's the skylicht open, an' twa +lang, skranky legs, wi' a pair o' buggers at the end o' them, wammlin' +aboot like twa rattlesnakes tryin' to get to the fluir. I drappit the +claes, oot at the door, an' steekit it ahent me. I keekit in aneth the +door, juist to see what wud happen. Sandy landit cloit doon on the +flure, an' sat sweitin', an' pechin', an' ac'ually greetin'. What a +picture he presentit! I cudna tell ye a' what he said. There were a +lot o' wirds amon't that's no' i' the dictionar'; an' I can tell ye, if +Pottie Lawson an' Bandy Wobster get the half o' what Sandy promised +them, baith in this world an' the next, they'll no hae far to find for +a sair place. + +"Man, gin ye'd haen the brains o' a cock spug," I heard him sayin' till +himsel', "ye michta jaloosed they were to play ye some prank. You +muckle, dozent gozlin'," he says; an' he took himsel' a skelp i' the +side o' the heid wi' his open luif that near ca'd him on his back. In +his stagger his feet tickled amon' his claes, an' he gaithered them up, +an' lookit fair dumfoondered like. He put them a' on; an' gyne--what +think you? Puir Sandy ac'ually sat doon an' claspit his hands, an' I +heard him sayin', "I'm an awfu' eedeit, a pure provoke to a' 'at +belangs me! but if I'm forgi'en this time, I'll try an' do better frae +this day forrit. An' I'll gie Pottie Lawson a killin' that he'll no' +forget in a hurry. He'll better waurro, if I get a haud o' him. I'll +lat Bandy Wobster awa' wi't, 'cause he's no' near wyse, an' he's an' +objeck a'ready." + +Juist at this meenit Mistress Kenawee cries up the stair, "Are you +there, Bawbie?" an' I had to rin doon. I tell'd them Sandy was hame a' +richt. Dauvid wantit to see him. But, na na! I keepit what I kent o' +Sandy's story to mysel'; an', puir cratur, I was raley sorry for him. +He gaed aboot a' Sabbath rale dementit like; an', i' the efternune, I +cam' in upon him i' the back shop dancin' on the tap o' a seek o' caff, +an' sayin', "Ye'll poach neen this winter, ye----" an' so on. + +Atween you an' me, it'll no' be a bawbee's-wirth o' stickin' plester +that'll sair Pottie if Sandy gets his fingers ower him. + +"Ay, you cam' in withoot chappin' on Setarday nicht, Sandy," I says, +says I, at brakfast time on Munanday mornin', 'cause I saw fine he +wantit to speak aboot it. + +"I'll do the chappin' when I get a grab o' Pottie Lawson," says Sandy. +"But I'll tell you this, Bawbie; when I was jookin' alang by the +roppie, tryin' to get hame, it's as fac's ocht, I thocht twa-three +times o' gaen plunk in amon' the water, an' makin' a feenish o't. I +was that angry an' ashamed. But, man, I ran up throo the yairds, +without onybody seein's, an' got in at the skylicht. I'll swag, +Bawbie, I never was gledder than when I cam' cloit doon on my hurdies +on the garret flure. But, as Rob Roy says, there's a day o' rekinin'; +an', by faigs, there'll be some fowk 'ill get the stoor taen oot o' +their jeckits when it comes roond, or my name's no Si Bowden!" + + + + +XIX. + +SANDY REVENGED. + +I was tellin' ye aboot Sandy's caper oot the Sands, when Bandy an' +Pottie Lawson made sic a fule o' him. We'd never seen hint nor hair o' +them here sin' syne; an' I'm shure they're a gude reddance. But wha +shud turn up i' the washin'-hoose the ither nicht but Pottie! He'd +gotten Dauvid Kenawee to speak to Sandy, an' gotten the thing sowdered +up some wey or ither, an' there he was again, as brisk as a bee. But +Sandy wasna that easy pacifeed. He didna say muckle, but I'll swag he +gey Pottie a neg on Teysday nicht that he'll no forget in a +hurry--nether will Mistress Mollison. + +Mind ye, I didna think Sandy was so deep. It was a gey trick. Sandy +was determined to pey aff Pottie in his ain coin, an' he had gotten +Bandy Wobster to kollig wi' him to gie Lawson a richt fleg. + +There was a big meetin' i' the washin'-hoose nae farrer gane than lest +nicht; an' efter a fell while's crackin', Bandy startit to speak aboot +mismirizin' an' phrenology, an' that kind o' thing. Bandy tell'd aboot +some o' his exploits mismirizin' sailors, an' took on to show aff his +po'ers on Sandy. Sandy was quite open to lat him try his hand; so +Bandy says, "Has ony o' you lads a twa-shilliny bit?" + +There was a gude deal o' hostin' an' heid-clawin' at this question, +ilka lad lookin' at his neeper as muckle as to say, "I've naething but +half-soverins i' the noo." + +"I can gi'e ye fowerpence o' coppers, if that's ony use to ye," said +Stumpie Mertin, shuvin' his airm up to the elba in his breeks pooch. + +There was a burst o' lauchin' at this, an' Sandy says, pointin' wi' his +thoom ower his shuder, "Less noise, you lads, for fear her nabs hears +us." He little thocht that her nabs--that was me, of coorse--was at +the winda hearin' every wird. Thinks I, my carlie, her nabs 'ill lat +you hear something the nicht that'll garr the lugs o' ye dirl. + +There wasna a twa-shilliny bit to be gotten, so Bandy had to tak' the +lid o' a sweetie-bottle an' mak' the best o't. + +"Noo, Sandy," says he, "juist grip that gey firm atween your finger an' +your thoom, an' stare at it as hard's ye can. Nae winkin' or lookin' +aboot; an', you lads, be quiet. Noo, lat's see ye!" + +Sandy took the bottle lid, an' sat doon wi't in's hand, an' stared at +it like's he was lookin' doon intil a draw-wall. A' the billies sat +roond starin' at Sandy, an' Bandy maleengered aboot, playin' capers wi' +his airms, an' dancin' like some daft man. Ye cudda tied the lot o' +them wi' a string, they were that taen up wi' Bandy's capers. He gaed +forrit efter a while an' pettin' his thooms on Sandy's heid, he says, +in a coalman's kind o' a voice, "Sleep, sleep." + +"He's awa' wi't," says Bandy, turnin' roond to the rest o' them. They +were sittin' wi' their moos wide open, an' a great deal mair mismirized +than Sandy, I thocht. + +Bandy grippit Sandy by the shuders an' heized him up on his feet; an' +there he stuid, wi' his een shut' an' his airms an' legs hingin' like's +he was dreepin' o' water. Bandy shot up his heid an opened his een wi' +his fingers, an' there was Sandy juist like Dominy Sampson i' the +museum. + +"Noo," says Bandy, "we'll touch his lauchin' bump"; an' he gae Sandy a +stob aboot the heid wi' his finger, an' Sandy set to the lauchin', ye +never heard the like. + +"Stop him, Bandy," says Stumpie Mertin, gey excited, "or he'll lauch +his henderend." + +"Peece, vile slave, or I'll dekappytate ye wi' my skittimir," says +Sandy, glowerin' at Stumpie. + +"He thinks he's the Shaw o' Persha," says Bandy, fingerin' awa' amon' +Sandy's hair. + +Here Sandy took to the greetin', an' grat something fearfu'. + +"Bliss me," says Dauvid Kenawee, "I never saw the like o' that. Is he +ac'ually sleepin'?" + +"As soond's a tap," says Bandy, an' he touched Sandy again an' stoppit +the greetin'. "Noo, we'll see what like a job he wud mak' o' a speech +at a ward meetin'," continued Bandy; an' he gae Sandy a slap on the +shuder an' says, "Noo, Mester Bowden, we're at a ward meetin', an' +you're stanin' for the Cooncil. There's Pottie Lawson in the chair, +an' it's your turn to speak noo. Lat's hear ye gie them a gude screed +on the topiks of the day." + +Sandy gae a bit hauch, an' swallowed a spittal, an' stappin' forrit a +bittie, began--"Mester Chairman----" He gae Pottie a glower that +nearhand knokit him aff the box he was sittin' on. "Mester Chairman," +says he, "we are gaithered thegither to meet wan anither as fella +ratepayers. If you want a tip-top cooncillor, I'm your man. +Regairdin' this noo kirkyaird bisness, I think it's ridic'lous to spend +the toon's bawbees buyin' buryin' grund for fowk that's no' deid. Time +eneuch to look oot for buryin' grund when fowk's deid. An' lat fowk +bury themsel's, juist as they like. Lat them look oot for their ain +grund, an' no' bather the ratepeyers lookin' oot grund for them. We'll +hae to get oor brakfast frae the Toon Cooncil by an' by, an' it'll a' +go on the rates, that's juist as fac's ocht. A' thing's on' the rates +nooadays, frae births to burals. But I hear wan of my audience cry, +'What aboot the Auld Kirk?' Weel, that's anither question. I think +that the shuner the Auld Kirk's aff the pairis the better. We've +plenty paupirs withoot it. If it canna do withoot parokial relief, lat +it into the puirhoose. That's what they wud do wi' you an' me if we +was needin' on the pairis. What d'ye think o' that? Then there's the +toon's wall an' the herbir. Weel, there's no muckle in ony o' them. +There's hardly ony watter i' the teen, an' there's naething but watter +i' the tither. But mibby if there was a noo licence or twa doon aboot +the shore, there micht be mair traffik i' the herbir. The trustees wud +mibby need to chairge shore dues on lads 'at was landit on the kee +noo-an'-than. They cud be shedild as live stock, altho' they were +half-deid wi' drink an' droonin' thegither. An' noo a wird or twa +aboot----" + +Bandy touched Sandy here, an' he stoppit, an' a' the lads clappit their +hands. + +Then Bandy gae Sandy a touch here an' there, an' ye never saw the like. +He ate a penny can'le, an' drank half a bottle o' ink, an' I cudna tell +ye a' what. The billies lookit as gin they were gettin' terrifeed at +Sandy, when I noticed him gie Bandy a bit wink on the sly; an' I saw +syne that Sandy was nae mair mismirized than I was. + +"There's neen o' ye here 'at Sandy has ony ill-will at," says Bandy; +"we'll see what like his fechtin' bump wirks." Wi' that he gae him a +touch ahent the lug, an' Sandy was layin' aboot him in a wink. "Dinna +touch him, or he'll mittal some o' ye," says Bandy; an' the billies a' +cleared awa' to the ither end o' the washin'-hoose. + +A' o' a sudden Sandy grippit an' auld roosty hewk that was lyin' on the +boiler, an' roarin', "Whaur's Pottie Lawson, an' I'll cut his wizand +till him," he made a flee at the door. You never saw sic a scramblin' +an' fleein'. Stumpie Merlin dived in ablo the sofa, an' Dauvid Kenawee +jumpit up on the boiler, an' aff wi' the lid for a shield. Pottie was +gaen bang oot at the door when Sandy grippit him by the cuff o' the +neck. But Pottie sprang oot o' the coat--it wasna ill to get ooten, +puir chield--an' doon the yaird a' he cud flee, wi' Sandy at his tail, +whirlin' the hewk roond his heid, an' skreechin' like the very +mischief. Bandy an' a' the rest cam' fleein' efter Sandy. Pottie took +the yaird dyke at ae loup, an' landit richt on Mistress Mollison's +back, an' sent her bung into the middle o' a lot o' Jacob's ledder 'at +she has growin' in her yaird. She gaed clean oot o' sicht, an' juist +lay an' roared till her man cam' oot an' helpit her into the hoose. + +"O, it's the deevil fleein' efter somebody," she said. "An' he has an +auld hewk in his hand, an' I saw the sparks o' feyre fleein' frae his +tail. An' there's aboot sixteen hunder ither deevils at his heels." + +On floo Pottie yalpin' "Pileece," "Murder," "Help," wi' Sandy at his +tails, an' the ither half-dizzen followin' up, pechin' like cadgers' +pownies. Pottie gaed clash into Stumpie Mertin's coal cellar, an' +lockit the door i' the inside. Sandy kickit at the door, an' Pottie +yalled like a wild cat. Sandy cam' awa' an' met the ither billies, +an', stoppin' them, tell'd them he was nae mare mismirized than they +were. "I wantit to gie Pottie a fleg, an' I think he's gotten't," says +he. "Him an' me's square noo." + +They gaed back to Stumpie's cellar, an' gin this time there were twenty +laddies an' twa pileece roond the door. + +"It's Pottie Lawson gane daft," said the laddies to the pileece. "He's +foamin' at the moo." + +Efter an awfu' wey o' doin' they got Pottie haled oot o' the cellar an' +hame; an' it's my opinion he'll never be seen in oor washin'-hoose +again; an' I'm shure I'll no' brak' my heart. + +But aboot the can'le an' the ink--you mibby winder hoo Sandy manished +to stamack them. I gaed in an' smelt the ink. It was sugarelly +watter, an' the can'le had been cut oot o' a neep an' laid juist whaur +it was handy. + +Ye never heard sic lauchin' as there's been sin' the story eekit oot. +Sandy's heid pillydakus amon' them a' noo, an' they think he's peyed +aff Pottie wi' compound interest. It's made Pottie fearder than ever; +they tell me he's been looking efter a job at the Freek bleechin,', so +as to get awa' oot o' the toon for a while. + + + + +XX. + +SANDY'S APOLOGIA. + +"Are ye there, Sandy? Sandy, are ye there? Sandy! I winder whaur +that man'll be? He'll gae awa' an' leave the shop stanin' open to the +street, as gin it were a byre, an' never think naething aboot it! Are +ye there, Sandy?" I heard Bawbie sayin' in her bed the ither mornin'. + +"Ay, I'm here," says I. "What are ye yalp-yalpin' at? What d'ye want? +I had throo to the cellar to rin for tatties to Mistress Hasties. What +was ye wantin'?" + +"See, look! Ye micht pet the pot on the fire there, an' warm that +drappie pottit-hoach brue; an' ye'll tak' it alang to Mary Emslie," +said Bawbie. "Puir cratur, she's gotten her death o' cauld some wey or +ither, an' I think she's smittit her bairnie; for when I was yont +yesterday forenune, the puir little thingie was near closed +a'thegither. Juist poor the brue into the flagon, Sandy, an' open the +second lang drawer there, an' ye'll get some bits o' things rowed +thegither, an' tak' them alang an' gie them to Mary. Turn the +lookin'-gless roond this wey a bittie on the dresser there, an I'll +notice in't if onybody comes into the shop, an' tell them to hover a +blink till ye rin yont to Mary's. Rin noo, Sandy, an' speer at Mary if +she has coals an' sticks, an' tell her to keep on a gude fire. Puir +cratur!" + +"Mary's a fell lot better the day, she thinks, Bawbie," says I, when I +cam' back; "an' she tell'd me the nurse had been in an' snoddit up her +hoose till her, an' sortit the bairn. Puir cratur, she ac'ually grat +when I gae her the bits o' things for the litlan; an' tell'd me to +thank ye. She was terriple taen up when I said you wasna able to be up +the day, an' howps ye'll be better gin the morn." + +"I think I'm better, but I'm awfu' licht i' the heid yet," says Bawbie. +"Ye micht get the pen an' ink, Sandy, an' send a scart or twa to thae +prenter bodies. Juist say I've taen a kind o' a dwam, but that I'll +likely be a' richt again in a day or twa. An' see an' watch your +spellin'. Gin ony o' the wirds are like to beat ye, juist speer at me, +an' I'll gie ye a hand wi' them." + +"A' richt than, Bawbie; I'll do that," says I. "Noo, juist try an' get +a sleep for a whilie, an' I'll go ben to the shop dask an' write a +scrift for you." + +So noo when I have the chance, I'll better juist mention that Bawbie +got terriple seek i' the forenicht yesterday, an' she hardly ever +steekit an e'e a' lest nicht. An' nether did I, for that pairt o't, +for she byochy-byochied awa' the feck o' the nicht, an' I cudna get +fa'in' ower. But I didna say onything, for I doot I'm to blame, +although I've never lutten dab that I jaloosed ony thing had happened. + +Bawbie was juist gaen awa' to hae her efternune cup yesterday, an' I +was chappin' oot the dottle o' my pipe on the corner o' the chumla, +when it flaw oot an' gaed oot o' sicht some wey. I socht heich an' +laich for't, but na, na; it wasna to be gotten. I thocht syne it had +gane into the fire. But it's my opinion noo, it had fa'in' into +Bawbie's teapot! She was sayin' ilky noo-an'-than, "That tea has a +dispert queer taste, Sandy. What can be the maitter wi't?" I never +took thocht; but when Bawbie fell seek, an' groo as white's a penny +lafe, thinks I to mysel', "That's your dottle, Sandy Bowden!" But I +never lut wink; for, keep me, if Bawbie had kent, I micht as weel gane +awa' an' sleepit on the Sands for the next twa-three nichts. She's a +gude-heartit budy; but, man, she gets intil an awfu' pavey whiles, an' +she's nether to hand nor to bind when she gets raised. But, for ony +sake, dinna lat on I was sayin' onything. + +Bawbie's an awfu' cratur to tell fowk aboot me an' my ongaens. Weel, +there's a lot o' truth in what she says, I maun admit; altho' she mak's +a heap o' din juist aboot twa-three kyowows, noo-an'-than. I dinna ken +hoo it is ava', I canna help mysel' sometimes. Man, the daftest-like +ideas tak' a haud o' me whiles--juist like a flesher grippin' a sheep +by the horns--an', do what I like, I canna get oot o' their grips. + +For instance, I was gaen up the brae juist the ither nicht, an' the +kirk offisher was stanin' at the kirk door. + +"Wud ye bide i' the kirk for ten meenits till I rin hame for a bissam +shaft?" says he. "I've broken the ane I have." + +"Oo, ay," says I; "I'll do that." + +Weel, man, I wasna twa meenits into the kirk when I windered what like +it was for size aside Gayneld Park, an' I thocht I wud see if I cud rin +fower times roond it in five meenits. I buttoned my coat, an' lookit +the time, an' aff I set up ae passage, ower the pletform, doon the +ither passage, throo the lobby, an' so on. I was juist aboot +feenishin' when, gaen sweesh oot at ane o' the doors, I cam' clash up +again' the minister, an' sent him spinnin' into the middle o' the +lobby, an' the collection plate in his oxter. + +"What in the name of common sense is the matter with you?" said he, +gettin' up, an' shakin' the stoor aff his hat. + +"Man, ye shud keep aff the coorse," says I, forgettin' for the meenit +whaur I was. "I was tryin' to brak' the record." + +"Break the record!" he says, in a most terrible fizz. "If it wasna for +the laws of the country, I'd break your head." + +Man, the passion o' the sacket was raley veeshis. He ac'ually spat oot +the wirds; an', faigs, I steekit baith my nivs an' keepit my e'e on +him, for fear he micht lat dab at me. + +Juist at that meenit the kirk offisher cam' in, an' the minister +turned, an' gleyin' roond at me gey feared like, said something till +him, an' I heard them crackin' aboot gettin' me hame in a cab. I saw +in a wink what they were jaloosin'. + +"Ye needna bather your heids ahoot a cab," says I. "I'm wyser than the +twa o' ye puttin' thegither; so keep on your dickies. Gude-nicht," +says I; an' doon the front staps I gaed, three at a time, an' hame. + +The beathel cam' doon afore he gaed hame, an' speered what i' the world +had happened. + +"I was juist comin' oot at the kirk door," says I, "when the minister +cam' skelp up again' me." I didna mention 'at I was rinnin'. "The +cratur drappit i' the flure," says I, "like's he'd been shot; an' then +to crack aboot me bein' daft! Did ye ever hear the like?" + +The kirk offisher gaed awa' hame, clawin' his heid, an' sayin' till +himsel', "Weel, it raley snecks a' thing. There's some ane o' the +three o's no' very soond i' the tap, shurely; an' whuther it's me or +no', I raley canna mak' oot." + +But what I want to lat you see is that I do thae daft-like things +sometimes, I dinna very weel ken hoo. I canna tell ye what wey it +comes aboot. Is ony o' ye lads ever affekit like that? Man, I've seen +me gaen to the kirk wi' Bawbie sometimes, dressed in my sirtoo an' my +lum, an' my gloves an' pocket-hankie, an' a'thing juist as snod's a noo +thripenny bit, an', a' o' a sudden, I wud hae to pet my tongue atween +my teeth, an' grip my umberell like's I was wantin' to chock it, juist +to keep mysel' frae tumblin' a fleepy or a catma i' the middle o' the +road amon' a' the kirk fowk, him hat, sirtoo, an' a'thegither. What +can ye mak' o' the like o that? It's my opinion sometimes that I was +never meent to behave mysel'; an' yet I'm sensible o' doin' most +terriple stewpid things of'en. It's a mystery to me, an' a dreefu' +dwang to Bawbie. But what can ye do? You canna get medisin for that +kind o' disease! As Bawbie says, I'll never behave till I'm killed; +an' the fac' o' the maitter is, I'm no' very shure aboot mysel' even +efter that. I ken it's an awfu' job for Bawbie tholin' my ongaens; +but, at the same time, if it wasna me, the neeper wives an her wudna +hae onything to mak' a molligrant aboot ava. As the Bible says, we're +fearfu' an' winderfu' made, an', I suppose, we maun juist mak' the best +o't. + + + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of My Man Sandy, by J. B. Salmond + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY MAN SANDY *** + +***** This file should be named 20540.txt or 20540.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/5/4/20540/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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