Martha Spreull/That Bursar again!

by Henry Johnston

CHAPTER XII.

THAT BURSAR AGAIN!

T wis a Monday morning, and as nice aday as onybody could wish to see, though the air ootby wis a thocht cauld. I could hear Mrs. M'Culloch's lark, that she aye put ootside the window on fine days, liltin' awa' to itsel', bringin' to my mind the time I spent wi' my mither's sister at the waterside in Govan, when I wis gettin' better o' the chincough. I mindet hoo I used to sit on a plaid on the gress, before my auntie's door, makin' up babs o' buttercups and listenin' to the whir o' the shuttles, and the daud, daudin' o' the lays i' the loomshops. Then my mither wud steal oot wi' a jeelie-piece, preen the wee shawl tichter aboot my throat, and chairge me ower and ower again to rin inbye, a' my pith, whenever I felt the kink comin' on.

Thinks I, "Weel, it's no' every day I'm i' the mood for writin', but here is my early days comin' back to my min' quite poetical; and, as I hae promised Mr. Fleming to say something aboot my youthfu' impressions and my upbringin', noo's the time." Sae I got oot my papers, and had spelt my name to see hoo the pen wud write. The ideas were comin' into my mind in the most beautifu' order, when lo! the door opened, and Willie Warstle stepped ben.

"What noo?' quoth I, wishin' to teach him mainners. “ Hoo lang will it be till ye learn to chap at the door o’ a lady's sanktom before ye gang ben? Hae ye no’ read o’ great thinkers haem’ their trains o’ thoeht broken by the wanton interruption o’ senseless folk ? ” I felt I had great power o’ expression that day.

“ 0,” says he, kind o’ vexed like, “ I didna ken ye were engaged. There wis something on my mind I wanted to ask ye aboot, but I can wait till again.’’

I admit I wis curious as to what the laddie had to say for he had a face that, wi’ doonricht seriousness, looked for a’ the world like Jamie Thrum’s fiddle.

“ Weel,” quoth I, “I’m geyan busy the day, but if ye hae onything on yer mind that’s fashin’ ye, maybe the suner ye tell me’t the better.”

Noo, ye will hardly believe me when I mention what serious thochts had been passin’ through that callant’s head. He had made by-ordinar’ progress wi’ the Catechism; it seemed nae langer a task to him. For some weeks back, when ither laddies were playin’ at fitba’ and siclike gymnastic games, he wud sit in his wee room read, readin’ awa’ at the Question Book ; in fact he seemed to have ta’en a likin’ till’t, and though his questions whiles showed he hadna grippet the kittle doctrines by the richt en’, still-an’-on he had a wonnerfu’ uptak’ for a callant o’ his years. It would seem that Dr. Langchaffs, the Cameronian minister, had been preachin’ the nicht afore on the “Decrees,” and, amang ither things, had spoken o’ the salvation o’ elect infants; but stated in a wye that I think wis maybe dogmatic enough, that bairns who werena amang the elect number were lost. In support o’ this doctrine he quoted the “Confession o’ Faith,” the which Willie had been puzzlin’ ower sin’ syne, an’ wis in a bonny state when he cam’ to speak aboot it. “But,” quoth I, “ye needna fash yer heid wi’ the ‘Decrees’ till ye win into Theology. Thae professor bodies hae a wonnerfu’ power o’ explainin’ things awa’.”

“Ay,” says he, “ but it’s either true or it’s no true, and I don’t want it explained awa; the only sister ever I had died when she wis five ’’—the callant here filled up—“ and if such a deevilish doctrine be true I vjud ”

“ Wheesht, wheesht! ” quoth I, for he wis excited, and I feared he micht say something rash under the impulse o’ strong feelin’.

“Noo,” thinks I, “ this is a case for David Whammondso I goes ower to the bookshelf and tak’s doon the precious volume he had legated to me, and turned up the place to learn his views; but the passage, it seems, had puzzled even this saintly man. It wis clear frae the notes he had written his opeenion at different times, and they showed a gradual gatherin’ o’ licht, no’ to say caution, as he advanced in years. These were his several observes on the passage that sae sairly exercised the laddie’s mind—“ A solemn and profound doctrine.” . . . “ A mysterious and kittle question that shouldna be dogmatised aboot.” Then later: “There is naething that I can see to hinder the Almichty electin’ to save a’ infants that dee young.”

Here at last wis a grain o’ comfort for the puir callant wha wis sae sair distressed aboot his infant sister. So efter tellin’ him he wisna to vex like them that had nae hope, and that Dr. Langchaffs wis fully as likely to be wrang as David Whammond, he gaed back to his lessons greatly consoled. But what dae ye think happened next ? I suppose the mair the youthfu’ mind is bent forcibly in ae gate the mair likely it is to spring back the ither wye when the strain is ta’en awa’.

That nicht I wis sittin’ a’ by my lane, ponderin’ ower the

happy and serious change that had come ower the laddie’s min’; the progress o’ his moral edication wis an unco comfort to me seein’ hoo raw the material wis when he fell into my hands. Weel, just as I wis in the middle o’ these ruminations, theootside door bell played ding wi’ sic fury that I nearly fell to the grun’ wi’ fricht; but I can tell ye my case wasna muckle mended when a grim polis offisher cam’ in and telt me that this same callant, Willie Warstle, the bursar, wha had sae lately shed tears ower the stern doctrine o’ the “ Decrees,” wis at that identical moment safe and sound in a prison cell. I wis perfect dumfunert, and for the instant fairly tint my reason, no’ to speak o’ my seven senses.

This wis a bonny pliskie ! It is true, he put on his coloured cap before he gaed oot, to attend an election meetin’ o’ students i’ the gleamin’, and I kent frae a lang experience that students aye gang oot o’ their judgment whenever they put thae coloured things on their heads.

“ But, mercy on us,” says I, “ there maun be some haloosinnashon—some, some mistake—are ye sure the laddie’s name is Warstle?”

The constable wis real ceevil, nae doot feelin’ for the sad pickle I wis in, he telt me that there had been a torchlicht procession o’ students, led on by a brass band, consistin’ o’ three trambones, a base fiddle, and a big drum. There had been riotous conduct endangerin’ the lieges, no’ to speak o’ the destruction o’ several sign-brods, hauf-a-dizzen lamps, forbye the pu’in doon o’ a gilt lamb that flourished abune the door o’ a weel-kent haberdasher in ane o’ the public thoroughfares. It wis most awfu’.

I paid the bail. I couldna think o’ the laddie lyin’ a’ nicht in a damp cell, amang keelies and ither riff-raff lawbreakers. Efter a’ there micht be some mistake. Next momin' I gaed to the coort wi' Maister Fleming the writer. It wis a sad, sad sicht to see sae mony braw, weel-put-on, bright-faced laddies ranged in front o' the bar o' justice. The judge had a warm side to the prisoners, for he gied a sair hecklin' to some o' the witnesses; but when I heard three constables, a licht porter, and a nicht watchman, giein' their sworn testimony that the prisoner, William Warstle, had been seen to fling a rape ower the haberdasher's sign—the gilt lamb —and that he and anither, wha stood near him in the dock,

had pu'd the different ends o' the rape till the thing cam' doon on the pavement wi' a clash, I couldna but feel that the sentence—twa guineas or fourteen days—wis, on the whole, reasonable and just.^[1]

Weel, weel, thinks I, as I paid doon the siller, this beats a' the student laddies ever I fed. This bursary business is gaun to cost me a bonny penny or a's dune. It gied me something to think aboot, and for the young and rising generation

the event is no’ withoot a moral. Truly, oor Jbest impressions are like the mornin’ cloud and the early dew that passeth away! Yesterday he wis moved to tears ower the sermon o’ a Cameronian minister, to-day he is convicted for the destruction o’ an honest haberdasher’s gilt sign. “Let him that standeth take heed lest he fall!”

1. This sentence I thought was an exceedingly mild one, considering the gravity of the offence, but the Fiscal was a friend of my own and knowing, as he did, that the punishment, the videlicet, the paying of the fine, would fall on my client, he did not press for a heavy penalty.—Ed.