CHAPTER XXX
Tribulation
[Illustration]
After the expulsion of the Kelpie, and the accession of Kirsty, things
went on so peaceably, that the whole time rests in my memory like a
summer evening after sundown. I have therefore little more to say
concerning our home-life.
There were two schools in the little town--the first, the parish
school, the master of which was appointed by the presbytery; the
second, one chiefly upheld by the dissenters of the place, the master
of which was appointed by the parents of the scholars. This
difference, however, indicated very little of the distinction and
separation which it would have involved in England. The masters of
both were licentiates of the established church, an order having a
vague resemblance to that of deacons in the English church; there were
at both of them scholars whose fees were paid by the parish, while
others at both were preparing for the University; there were many
pupils at the second school whose parents took them to the established
church on Sundays, and both were yearly examined by the
presbytery--that is, the clergymen of a certain district; while my
father was on friendly terms with all the parents, some of whom did
not come to his church because they thought the expenses of religion
should be met by the offerings of those who prized its ministrations,
while others regarded the unity of the nation, and thought that
religion, like any other of its necessities, ought to be the care of
its chosen government. I do not think the second school would ever
have come into existence at all except for the requirements of the
population, one school being insufficient. There was little real
schism in the matter, except between the boys themselves. They made
far more of it than their parents, and an occasional outbreak was the
consequence.
At this time there was at the second school a certain very rough lad,
the least developed beyond the brute, perhaps, of all the scholars of
the village. It is more amazing to see how close to the brute a man
may remain than it is to see how far he may leave the brute behind.
How it began I cannot recall; but this youth, a lad of seventeen,
whether moved by dislike or the mere fascination of injury, was in the
habit of teasing me beyond the verge of endurance as often as he had
the chance. I did not like to complain to my father, though that would
have been better than to hate him as I did. I was ashamed of my own
impotence for self-defence; but therein I was little to blame, for I
was not more than half his size, and certainly had not half his
strength. My pride forbidding flight, the probability was, when we met
in an out-of-the-way quarter, that he would block my path for half an
hour at least, pull my hair, pinch my cheeks, and do everything to
annoy me, short of leaving marks of violence upon me. If we met in a
street, or other people were in sight, he would pass me with a wink
and a grin, as much as to say--_Wait_.
One of the short but fierce wars between the rival schools broke
out. What originated the individual quarrel I cannot tell. I doubt if
anyone knew. It had not endured a day, however, before it came to a
pitched battle after school hours. The second school was considerably
the smaller, but it had the advantage of being perched on the top of
the low, steep hill at the bottom of which lay ours. Our battles
always began with missiles; and I wonder, as often as I recall the
fact, that so few serious accidents were the consequence. From the
disadvantages of the ground, we had little chance against the
stone-showers which descended upon us like hail, except we charged
right up the hill, in the face of the inferior but well-posted enemy.
When this was not in favour at the moment, I employed myself in
collecting stones and supplying them to my companions, for it seemed
to me that every boy, down to the smallest in either school, was
skilful in throwing them, except myself: I could not throw halfway up
the hill. On this occasion, however, I began to fancy it an unworthy
exercise of my fighting powers, and made my first attempt at
organizing a troop for an up-hill charge. I was now a tall boy, and of
some influence amongst those about my own age. Whether the enemy saw
our intent and proceeded to forestall it, I cannot say, but certainly
that charge never took place.
A house of some importance was then building, just on the top of the
hill, and a sort of hand-wagon, or lorry on low wheels, was in use for
moving the large stones employed, the chips from the dressing of which
were then for us most formidable missiles. Our adversaries laid hold
of this chariot, and turned it into an engine of war. They dragged it
to the top of the hill, jumped upon it, as many as it would hold, and,
drawn by their own weight, came thundering down upon our troops. Vain
was the storm of stones which assailed their advance: they could not
have stopped if they would. My company had to open and make way for
the advancing prodigy, conspicuous upon which towered my personal
enemy Scroggie.
"Now," I called to my men, "as soon as the thing stops, rush in and
seize them: they're not half our number. It will be an endless
disgrace to let them go."
Whether we should have had the courage to carry out the design had not
fortune favoured us, I cannot tell. But as soon as the chariot reached
a part of the hill where the slope was less, it turned a little to one
side, and Scroggie fell off, drawing half of the load after him. My
men rushed in with shouts of defiant onset, but were arrested by the
non-resistance of the foe. I sprung to seize Scroggie. He tried to get
up, but fell back with a groan. The moment I saw his face, my mood
changed. My hatred, without will or wish or effort of mine, turned all
at once into pity or something better. In a moment I was down on my
knees beside him. His face was white, and drops stood upon his
forehead. He lay half upon his side, and with one hand he scooped
handfuls of dirt from the road and threw them down again. His leg was
broken. I got him to lean his head against me, and tried to make him
lie more comfortably; but the moment I sought to move the leg he
shrieked out. I sent one of our swiftest runners for the doctor, and
in the meantime did the best I could for him. He took it as a matter
of course, and did not even thank me. When the doctor came, we got a
mattress from a neighbouring house, laid it on the wagon, lifted
Scroggie on the top, and dragged him up the hill and home to his
mother.
I have said a little, but only a little, concerning our master, Mr.
Wilson. At the last examination I had, in compliance with the request
of one of the clergymen, read aloud a metrical composition of my own,
sent in by way of essay on the given subject, _Patriotism_, and after
this he had shown me a great increase of favour. Perhaps he recognized
in me some germ of a literary faculty--I cannot tell: it has never
come to much if he did, and he must be greatly disappointed in me,
seeing I labour not in living words, but in dead stones. I am certain,
though, that whether I build good or bad houses, I should have built
worse had I not had the insight he gave me into literature and the
nature of literary utterance. I read Virgil and Horace with him, and
scanned every doubtful line we came across. I sometimes think now,
that what certain successful men want to make them real artists, is
simply a knowledge of the literature--which is the essence of the
possible art--of the country.
My brother Tom had left the school, and gone to the county town, to
receive some final preparation for the University; consequently, so
far as the school was concerned, I was no longer in the position of a
younger brother. Also Mr. Wilson had discovered that I had some
faculty for imparting what knowledge I possessed, and had begun to
make use of me in teaching the others. A good deal was done in this
way in the Scotch schools. Not that there was the least attempt at
system in it: the master, at any moment, would choose the one he
thought fit, and set him to teach a class, while he attended to
individuals, or taught another class himself. Nothing can be better
for the verification of knowledge, or for the discovery of ignorance,
than the attempt to teach. In my case it led to other and unforeseen
results as well.
The increasing trust the master reposed in me, and the increasing
favour which openly accompanied it, so stimulated the growth of my
natural vanity, that at length it appeared in the form of presumption,
and, I have little doubt, although I was unaware of it at the time,
influenced my whole behaviour to my school-fellows. Hence arose the
complaint that I was a favourite with the master, and the accusation
that I used underhand means to recommend myself to him, of which I am
not yet aware that I was ever guilty. My presumption I confess, and
wonder that the master did not take earlier measures to check it. When
teaching a class, I would not unfrequently, if Mr. Wilson had vacated
his chair, climb into it, and sit there as if I were the master of the
school. I even went so far as to deposit some of my books in the
master's desk, instead of in my own recess. But I had not the least
suspicion of the indignation I was thus rousing against me.
One afternoon I had a class of history. They read very badly, with
what seemed wilful blundering; but when it came to the questioning on
the subject of the lesson, I soon saw there had been a conspiracy. The
answers they gave were invariably wrong, generally absurd, sometimes
utterly grotesque. I ought to except those of a few girls, who did
their best, and apparently knew nothing of the design of the others.
One or two girls, however, infected with the spirit of the game, soon
outdid the whole class in the wildness of their replies. This at last
got the better of me; I lost my temper, threw down my book, and
retired to my seat, leaving the class where it stood. The master
called me and asked the reason. I told him the truth of the matter. He
got very angry, and called out several of the bigger boys and punished
them severely. Whether these supposed that I had mentioned them in
particular, as I had not, I do not know; but I could read in their
faces that they vowed vengeance in their hearts. When the school broke
up, I lingered to the last, in the hope they would all go home as
usual; but when I came out with the master, and saw the silent waiting
groups, it was evident there was more thunder in the moral atmosphere
than would admit of easy discharge. The master had come to the same
conclusion, for instead of turning towards his own house, he walked
with me part of the way home, without alluding however to the reason.
Allister was with us, and I led Davie by the hand: it was his first
week of school life. When we had got about half the distance,
believing me now quite safe, he turned into a footpath and went
through the fields back towards the town; while we, delivered from all
immediate apprehension, jogged homewards.
When we had gone some distance farther, I happened to look about--why,
I could not tell. A crowd was following us at full speed. As soon as
they saw that we had discovered them, they broke the silence with a
shout, which was followed by the patter of their many footsteps.
"Run, Allister!" I cried; and kneeling, I caught up Davie on my back,
and ran with the feet of fear. Burdened thus, Allister was soon far
ahead of me.
"Bring Turkey!" I cried after him. "Run to the farm as hard as you can
pelt, and bring Turkey to meet us."
"Yes, yes, Ranald," shouted Allister, and ran yet faster.
They were not getting up with us quite so fast as they wished; they
began therefore to pick up stones as they ran, and we soon heard them
hailing on the road behind us. A little farther, and the stones began
to go bounding past us, so that I dared no longer carry Davie on my
back. I had to stop, which lost us time, and to shift him into my
arms, which made running much harder. Davie kept calling, "Run,
Ranald!--here they come!" and jumping so, half in fear, half in
pleasure, that I found it very hard work indeed.
Their taunting voices reached me at length, loaded with all sorts of
taunting and opprobrious words--some of them, I dare say, deserved,
but not all. Next a stone struck me, but not in a dangerous place,
though it crippled my running still more. The bridge was now in sight,
however, and there I could get rid of Davie and turn at bay, for it
was a small wooden bridge, with rails and a narrow gate at the end to
keep horsemen from riding over it. The foremost of our pursuers were
within a few yards of my heels, when, with a last effort, I bounded on
it; and I had just time to set Davie down and turn and bar their way
by shutting the gate, before they reached it. I had no breath left but
just enough to cry, "Run, Davie!" Davie, however, had no notion of the
state of affairs, and did not run, but stood behind me staring. So I
was not much better off yet. If he had only run, and I had seen him
far enough on the way home, I would have taken to the water, which was
here pretty deep, before I would have run any further risk of their
getting hold of me. If I could have reached the mill on the opposite
bank, a shout would have brought the miller to my aid. But so long as
I could prevent them from opening the gate, I thought I could hold the
position. There was only a latch to secure it, but I pulled a thin
knife from my pocket, and just as I received a blow in the face from
the first arrival which knocked me backwards, I had jammed it over the
latch through the iron staple in which it worked. Before the first
attempt to open it had been followed by the discovery of the obstacle,
I was up, and the next moment, with a well-directed kick, disabled a
few of the fingers which were fumbling to remove it. To protect the
latch was now my main object, but my efforts would have been quite
useless, for twenty of them would have been over the top in an
instant. Help, however, although unrecognized as such, was making its
way through the ranks of the enemy.
They parted asunder, and Scroggie, still lame, strode heavily up to
the gate. Recalling nothing but his old enmity, I turned once more and
implored Davie. "Do run, Davie, dear! it's all up," I said; but my
entreaties were lost upon Davie. Turning again in despair, I saw the
lame leg being hoisted over the gate. A shudder ran through me: I
could _not_ kick that leg; but I sprang up and hit Scroggie hard in
the face. I might as well have hit a block of granite. He swore at me,
caught hold of my hand, and turning to the assailants said:
"Now, you be off! This is my little business. I'll do for him!"
Although they were far enough from obeying his orders, they were not
willing to turn him into an enemy, and so hung back expectant.
Meantime the lame leg was on one side of the gate, the splints of
which were sharpened at the points, and the sound leg was upon the
other. I, on the one side--for he had let go my hand in order to
support himself--retreated a little, and stood upon the defensive,
trembling, I must confess; while my enemies on the other side could
not reach me so long as Scroggie was upon the top of the gate.
The lame leg went searching gently about, but could find no rest for
the sole of its foot, for there was no projecting cross bar upon this
side; the repose upon the top was anything but perfect, and the leg
suspended behind was useless. The long and the short, both in legs and
results, was, that there Scroggie stuck; and so long as he stuck, I
was safe. As soon as I saw this, I turned and caught up Davie,
thinking to make for home once more. But that very instant there was a
rush at the gate; Scroggie was hoisted over, the knife was taken out,
and on poured the assailants, before I had quite reached the other end
of the bridge.
"At them, Oscar!" cried a voice.
The dog rushed past me on to the bridge, followed by Turkey. I set
Davie down, and, holding his hand, breathed again. There was a scurry
and a rush, a splash or two in the water, and then back came Oscar
with his innocent tongue hanging out like a blood-red banner of
victory. He was followed by Scroggie, who was exploding with laughter.
[Illustration]
Oscar came up wagging his tail, and looking as pleased as if he had
restored obedience to a flock of unruly sheep. I shrank back from
Scroggie, wishing Turkey, who was still at the other end of the
bridge, would make haste.
"Wasn't it fun, Ranald?" said Scroggie. "You don't think I was so lame
that I couldn't get over that gate? I stuck on purpose."
Turkey joined us with an inquiring look, for he knew how Scroggie had
been in the habit of treating me.
"It's all right, Turkey," I said. "Scroggie stuck on the gate on
purpose."
"A good thing for you, Ranald!" said Turkey. "Didn't you see Peter
Mason amongst them?"
"No. He left the school last year."
"He was there, though, and I don't suppose _he_ meant to be
agreeable."
"I tell you what," said Scroggie: "if you like, I'll leave my school
and come to yours. My mother lets me do as I like."
I thanked him, but said I did not think there would be more of it. It
would blow over.
Allister told my father as much as he knew of the affair; and when he
questioned me, I told him as much as I knew.
The next morning, just as we were all settling to work, my father
entered the school. The hush that followed was intense. The place
might have been absolutely empty for any sound I could hear for some
seconds. The ringleaders of my enemies held down their heads, as
anticipating an outbreak of vengeance. But after a few moments'
conversation with Mr. Wilson, my father departed. There was a mystery
about the proceeding, an unknown possibility of result, which had a
very sedative effect the whole of the morning. When we broke up for
dinner, Mr. Wilson detained me, and told me that my father thought it
better that, for some time at least, I should not occupy such a
prominent position as before. He was very sorry, he said, for I had
been a great help to him; and if I did not object, he would ask my
father to allow me to assist him in the evening-school during the
winter. I was delighted at the prospect, sank back into my natural
position, and met with no more annoyance. After a while I was able to
assure my former foes that I had had no voice in bringing punishment
upon them in particular, and the enmity was, I believe, quite
extinguished.
When winter came, and the evening-school was opened, Mr. Wilson called
at the manse, and my father very willingly assented to the proposed
arrangement. The scholars were mostly young men from neighbouring
farms, or from workshops in the village, with whom, although I was so
much younger than they, there was no danger of jealousy. The
additional assistance they would thus receive, and their respect for
superior knowledge, in which, with my advantages, I had no credit over
them, would prevent any false shame because of my inferiority in
years.
There were a few girls at the school as well--among the rest, Elsie
Duff. Although her grandmother was very feeble, Elsie was now able to
have a little more of her own way, and there was no real reason why
the old woman should not be left for an hour or two in the evening. I
need hardly say that Turkey was a regular attendant. He always, and I
often, saw Elsie home.
My chief pleasure lay in helping her with her lessons. I did my best
to assist all who wanted my aid, but offered unsolicited attention to
her. She was not quick, but would never be satisfied until she
understood, and that is more than any superiority of gifts. Hence, if
her progress was slow, it was unintermitting. Turkey was far before me
in trigonometry, but I was able to help him in grammar and geography,
and when he commenced Latin, which he did the same winter, I assisted
him a good deal.
Sometimes Mr. Wilson would ask me to go home with him after school,
and take supper. This made me late, but my father did not mind it, for
he liked me to be with Mr. Wilson. I learned a good deal from him at
such times. He had an excellent little library, and would take down
his favourite books and read me passages. It is wonderful how things
which, in reading for ourselves, we might pass over in a half-blind
manner, gain their true power and influence through the voice of one
who sees and feels what is in them. If a man in whom you have
confidence merely lays his finger on a paragraph and says to you,
"Read that," you will probably discover three times as much in it as
you would if you had only chanced upon it in the course of your
reading. In such case the mind gathers itself up, and is all eyes and
ears.
But Mr. Wilson would sometimes read me a few verses of his own; and
this was a delight such as I have rarely experienced. My reader may
wonder that a full-grown man and a good scholar should condescend to
treat a boy like me as so much of an equal; but sympathy is precious
even from a child, and Mr. Wilson had no companions of his own
standing. I believe he read more to Turkey than to me, however.
As I have once apologized already for the introduction of a few of his
verses with Scotch words in them, I will venture to try whether the
same apology will not cover a second offence of the same sort.
JEANIE BRAW[1]
I like ye weel upo' Sundays, Jeanie,
In yer goon an' yer ribbons gay;
But I like ye better on Mondays, Jeanie,
And I like ye better the day.[2]
[Footnote 1: Brave; well dressed.].
[Footnote 2: To-day.]
For it _will_ come into my heid, Jeanie,
O' yer braws[1] ye are thinkin' a wee;
No' a' o' the Bible-seed, Jeanie,
Nor the minister nor me.
[Footnote 1: Bravery; finery.]
And hame across the green, Jeanie,
Ye gang wi' a toss o' yer chin:
Us twa there's a shadow atween, Jeanie,
Though yer hand my airm lies in.
But noo, whan I see ye gang, Jeanie,
Busy wi' what's to be dune,
Liltin' a haveless[2] sang, Jeanie,
I could kiss yer verra shune.
[Footnote 2: Careless.]
Wi' yer silken net on yer hair, Jeanie,
In yer bonny blue petticoat,
Wi' yer kindly airms a' bare, Jeanie,
On yer verra shadow I doat.
For oh! but ye're eident[3] and free, Jeanie,
Airy o' hert and o' fit[4];
There's a licht shines oot o' yer ee, Jeanie;
O' yersel' ye thinkna a bit.
[Footnote 3: Diligent.]
[Footnote 4: Foot.]
Turnin' or steppin' alang, Jeanie,
Liftin' an' layin' doon,
Settin' richt what's aye gaein' wrang, Jeanie,
Yer motion's baith dance an' tune.
Fillin' the cogue frae the coo, Jeanie,
Skimmin' the yallow cream,
Poorin' awa' the het broo, Jeanie,
Lichtin' the lampie's leme[5]--
[Footnote 5: Flame.]
I' the hoose ye're a licht an' a law, Jeanie,
A servant like him that's abune:
Oh! a woman's bonniest o' a', Jeanie,
Whan she's doin' what _maun_ be dune.
Sae, dressed in yer Sunday claes, Jeanie,
Fair kythe[1] ye amang the fair;
But dressed in yer ilka-day's[2], Jeanie,
Yer beauty's beyond compare.
[Footnote 1: Appear.]
[Footnote 2: Everyday clothes.]
