Martha Spreull/School Experiences

by Henry Johnston

CHAPTER XIII.

SCHOOL EXPERIENCES.

S I said before, I had cuttit baith my wisdom teeth or I wis weel into my twelfth year. My mither, bless her memory, wis unco upliftit aboot the occurrence, the mair especial as her feelin's were worked on by Beeny Fortune, the spaewife, Mysie Deans, the mantymaker, and ither offeeshus neebours; but it's no' for me to dwell on that as a matter o' special merit, for I didna bring the thing on mysel', neither could I hinder the course o' natur', or lift up my voice, had I been willin', against what wis decreet before I wis born. Indeed, to tell the gospel truth, as I am bound to do, baith as a matter o' honour to mysel and as a duty to those that come efter me, I canna say I wis a grain wycer efter a' the scarifeein' and trouble o' gettin' the teeth, than ither lassies o' my ain age that had still the ordale to gang through. I wis a real don at the "peeveral," "there cam' dukes," "Babity bowster," and ither youthfu' games. I could even tak' a turn at "I spy," and "Keep the corbie frae the craw," wi' the callants, but I showed nae predeleckshon ava' for buik learnin'. Indeed, durin' a' my schule carrickilum the only thing that I ever excelled in wis the spellin' o' big words. Hooever, it has been often noticed before that clever folk were slow at the uptak’ in early life. The great licht o’ gen’us ken’les but slowly, as the poet has said; whereas early cleverness is like a lichtit peeoy that fizzes awa’ at a bonny rate for a while, but sune burns itsel’ oot.

The schule I attendit wis an auld loomshop in Shuttle Street, wi’ an earthen fluir. The maister wis lame, an’ the best shot wi’ the tawse ever I saw. He seldom meddlet us lassies, but twa ’r three times a day we wud hear something whizzin’ through the air, ower oor heads, and this wis the tawse wingin’ their flight to some delinquent’s lugs. The maister’s aim wis sure as death, as I can get grown-up witnesses still to testify. The culprit wis thereupon summonsed to return the tawse. Ye may be sure he had a bad five meenits efter that. I wud back the maister, when angry, for bein’ the frichtsomest being ye could find within fifty miles o’ Shuttle Street. His big roon face wis aye red, but it became redder as the passion got the better o’ him, his een the while workin’ oot o’ his head like oppera glesses, till ye wud think they were cornin’ to meet ye, and that he himsel’ wis gaun to tum’le atfhisstule in an apoplexy fit.

Ae day an incident occurred of an unusual character that made a deep impression on us. Tammas Taigle, the tatie merchant’s son, wha leeved wi’ his faither at the corner o’ Burrell’s Lane, wis the biggest boy i’ the schule, and a great favourite wi’ his class-fellows. He had an awfu’ gen’us for drawin pictur's on slates. On this particular day wee Francie Strain wis unco keen to ken what an elephant wis like. Tammas, wha had been at the wild beast show, then located at the foot o’ the Sautmarket, took Francie’s slate and began to trace the ootlines o’ a sonsie elephant, much to the delight of

ane or twa o’ his neebours, when the air was suddenly rent

asunder, and the next instant the heavy-fingert tawse labbit wi’ a stingin’ clash on Tammas’ jaw-blade. The callant loupit richt up in the air; and nae wonner. He got a mortal fricht, forby bein’ hurt in his feelin’s. We were a’ vext for him. Like maist generous natures, Tammas wis unco quick i’ the temper.

“ Come here wi’ thae tawse,” the maister roared. Tammas seized them tightly in his han’, and, takin’ a race into the middle o’ the fluir, gart them play flee at the maister’s head strikin’ him on the face, and carrying aff' his wig.

“Noo,” said Tammas, “hoo div ye like that yersel’, ye auld draigon?”

Then he gaed coolly back for his books and his bonnet, and bade us a’ good-bye and left the schule. The thing filled us wi’ mortal terror. Such a darin’ deed had never been heard tell o’. It seemed to me that chaos had come. Efter sic anarky and defiance o’ constitutit authority, the end o’ a’ things must be near. The storm, hooever, blew by. To oor great surprise and delight there wis neither imprisonment nor shedding o’ bluid; but Tammas Taigle never drew an elephant, nor liftit a pen, in Shuttle Street schule again.

I manna forget to mention that aboot this time my edication wis for a time suspendet in consequence o’ a hack in my heel. At first it wis thocht to be a simple and natural enough thing ; but as it wis dour o’ healin’, Peter Spale gaed doon to ane Mrs. Wark in the Gallowgate, wha wis famous for the sale o’ hive water, and ither kosmetics for the skin, and brocht back wi’ him a wee box o’ her patint healin’ saw. The effect o’ this eyntment wis to be mirawclas, and sae it turned oot to be, for in less than a week’s time my fit and leg were fearfu’ to see, havin’ hoved up abune a’ natural bounds, insomuch that I couldna put my fit below me, and- had to sit a’ day wi’t prappit up before me on a chair. My faither wished to send for a doctor, but my mither wud hear o’ no sic thing. She felt sure they wud be gled o’ a leg like that for the college, and what wis to hinder them frae chackin’t aff and makin’a speckilation o’t before the students?

At that time there wis a releegious body in the east-end o* the toon, ca’in’ themsel’s Latter-Day Saints. They had been haudin’ great meetin’s and makin’ a heap o’ converts. Mrs. Gomorrow, the greengrocer i’ the Drygate, had got bapteest into the body, and naething wud dae but that my mither should alloo ane o’ the elders to come and pray wi’ me and pass his hand ower the place. They had removed “ incomes,” no to speak o’ the “ rose,” “ white swellin’s,” and divers other diseases. Weel, the elder cam’ ae nicht when my faither wis at a meetin’ o’ the Incorporation o’ Cordiners—for my mither wis feart they should meet. He wis a black-aviced, laigh-set man, wi’ sma’ grey beads o’ een, and an unco deep voice. He prayed as Christian a prayer as onybody could wish, passin’ his hand the while ower the place affected, but I wis terribly disappointed when, efter prayin’ a’ his pith, there wisna ae bit o’ odds on the leg. I had thocht a’ day aboot Naaman, the leper, and the wondrous change that cam’ ower him efter dippen seven times i’ the River Jordan, and fully expectit my cure wud be something like that. He said, hooever, it wis want o’ faith, and urged my mither to come wi’ Mrs. Gomorrow to their meetin’s and be bapteest. He cam’ back efter that to argy wi’ my faither, but as he had heard in the meantime what had already taken place, he met the elder in the trance as he wis cornin’ ben, and seizin’ the black body by the cuff o’ the neck ran him to the door, and dippet his head in a byne o’ sapples that my mither had been scoorin’ blankets in. It wis real droll to see the cratur’ makin’ aff doon the Bell-o’-the-Brae