Chapter 2

Now, sir (continued the dominie), about three years after I had received this letter, my old scholar was called to the bar, and a brilliant first appearance he made. Bench, bar, and jury were lost in wonder at the power o' his eloquence. A Demosthenes had risen up amongst them. The half o' Edinburgh spoke o' naething but the young advocate. But it was on the very day that he made his first appearance as a pleader, that I received a letter from Mr. Crompton, begging to know if I could gie him ony information respecting the old tutor o' his family, and stating, in the language o' a broken-hearted man, that his only daughter was then upon her death-bed, and that, before she died, she begged she might be permitted to see and to speak with Alexander Rutherford. I enclosed the letter, and sent it off to the young advocate. He was sitting at a dinner-party, receiving the homage of beauty and the congratulations of learned men, when the fatal letter was put into his hands. He broke the seal--his hand shook as he read--his cheeks grew pale--and large drops of sweat burst upon his brow. He rose from the table. He scarce knew what he did. But within half-an-hour he was posting on his way to Cumberland. He reached the house, her parents received him with tears, and he was conducted into the room where the dying maiden lay. She knew his voice, as he approached.

"He is come!--he is come! He loves me still!" cried the poor thing, endeavouring to raise herself upon her elbow.

Sandy approached the bedside--he burst into tears--he bent down, and kissed her pale and wasted cheeks, over which death seemed already to have cast its shadow.

"Ann! my beloved Ann!" said he; and he took her hand in his, and pressed it to his lips; "do not leave me--we shall yet be happy!"

Her eyes brightened for a moment--in them joy struggled with death, and the contest was unequal. From the day that he had been sent from her father's house, she had withered away, as a tender flower that is transplanted to an unkindly soil. She desired that they would lift her up, and she placed her hand upon his shoulder, and, gazing anxiously in his face, said--

"And Alexander still loves me--even in death!"

"Yes, dearest--yes!" he replied. But she had scarce heard his answer, and returned it with a smile of happiness, when her head sank upon his bosom, and a deep sigh escaped from hers. It was her last. Her soul seemed only to have lingered till her eyes might look on him. She was removed a corpse from his breast; but on that breast the weight of death was still left. He became melancholy--his ambition died--she seemed to have been the only object that stimulated him to pursue fame and to seek for fortune. In intense study he sought to forget his grief--or rather he made them companions--till his health broke under them; and in the thirtieth year of his age died one who possessed talents and learning that would have adorned his country, and rendered his name immortal. Such, sir, is the brief history o' yer auld class-fellow, Solitary Sandy.

In the history o'

GLAIKIT WILLIE

(continued Mr Grierson), the only thing remarkable is, that he has been as fortunate a man as he was a thochtless laddie. After leaving the school, he flung his Greek and Latin aside, and that was easily done, for it was but little that he ever learned, and less that he remembered, for he paid so little attention to onything he did, that what he got by heart one day, he forgot the next. In spite o' the remonstrances o' his friends, naething would haud Willie but he would be a sailor. Weel, he was put on board o' an American trader, and for several years there was naething heard o' concerning him, but accidents that had happened him, and all through his glaikitness. Sometimes he was fa'ing owre a boat, and was mostly drowned; and at ither times, we heard o' him fa'ing headlong into the ship's hold; ance o' his tumbling overboard in the middle o' the great Atlantic; and at last, o' his fa'ing from the mast upon the deck, and having his legs broken. It was the luckiest thing that ever happened him. It brought him to think, and gied him leisure to do it; he was laid up for twelve weeks, and, during part o' the time, he applied himself to navigation, in the elements o' which science I had instructed him. Soon after his recovery, he got the command o' a vessel, and was very fortunate, and, for several years, he has been sole owner of a number of vessels, and is reputed to be very rich. He also married weel, as the phrase runs, for the woman had a vast o' money, only she was--a mulatto. That, sir, is a' I ken concerning William Armstrong, or, as ye ca'ed him, Glaikit Willie; for he was a callant that was so thochtless when under my care, that he never interested me a great deal. And noo, sir, I shall gie ye a' the particulars I know concerning the fate o'

VENTURESOME JAMIE.

Ye will remember him best o' ony o' them, I reckon; for even when ye were baith bits o' callants, there was a sort o' rivalship between ye for the affections o' bonny Katie Alison, the loveliest lassie that ever I had at my school. I hae frequently observed the looks o' jealousy that used to pass between ye when she seemed to show mair kindness to ane than anither; and, when ye little thocht I saw ye, I hae noticed ane o' ye pushing oranges into her hand, and anither sweeties. When she got a bit comb, too, to fasten up her gowden hair, I weel divined whose pennies had purchased it--for they were yours, doctor. I remember, also, hoo ye was aye a greater favourite wi' her than Jamie, and hoo he challenged ye to fecht him for her affections, and o'ercam' ye in the battle, and sent ye to the school next day wi' yer face a' disfigured--and I, as in duty bound, gied each o' ye a heartier thrashin than ye had gien ane anither. Katie hung her head a' the time, and when she looked up, a tear was rowin in her bonny blue een. But ye left the school and the country-side when ye was little mair than seventeen; and the next thing that we heard o' ye was that ye had gane oot to India about three years afterwards. Yer departure evidently removed a load from Jamie's breast. He followed Katie like her shadow, though with but little success, as far as I could perceive, and as it was generally given out.

But, ye must remember, in his case the name o' Venturesome Jamie was well applied. Never in my born days did I know such a callant. He would have climbed the highest trees as though he had been speeling owre a common yett, and swung himsel by the heels frae their topmost branches. Oh, he was a terrible laddie! When I hae seen ye a' bathing in the river, sometimes I used to tremble for him. He was a perfect amphibious animal. I have seen him dive from a height of twenty or thirty feet, and remain under the water till I almost lost my breath wi' anxiety for his uprising; and then he would have risen at as many yards distant from the place where he had dived. I recollect o' hearing o' his permitting himsel to be suspended owre a precipice aboon a hundred feet high, wi' a rope fastened round his oxters, and three laddies like himsel hauding on by the ither end o't--and this was dune merely to harry the nest o' a waterwagtail. Had the screams o' the callants, who found him owre heavy for them, and that they were unable to draw him up again, not brought some ploughmen to their assistance, he must have been precipitated into eternity. However, as I intended to say, it was shortly after the news arrived o' your having sailed for India, that a fire broke out in the dead o' nicht in a house occupied by Katie Alison's father. Never shall I forget the uproar and consternation o' that terrible nicht. There was not a countenance in the town but was pale wi' terror. The flames roared and raged from every window, and were visible through some parts in the roof. The great black clouds o' smoke seemed rushing from the crater of a volcano. The floors o' the second storey were falling, and crashing, and crackling, and great burning sparks, some o' them as big as a man's hand, were rising in thousands and tens o' thousands from the flaming ruins, and were driven by the wind, like a shower o' fire, across the heavens. It was the most fearsome sight I had ever beheld. But this was not the worst o't; for, at a window in the third storey, which was the only one in the house from which the flames were not bursting, stood bonny Katie Alison, wringing her hands and screaming for assistance, while her gowden hair fell upon her shouthers, and her cries were heard aboon the raging o' the conflagration. I heard her cry distinctly, "My father!--my father!--will nobody save my father?" for he lay ill of a fever in the room where she was, and was unconscious of his situation. But there was none to render them assistance. At times, the flames and the smoke, issuing from the windows below, concealed her from the eyes of the multitude. Several had attempted her rescue, but all of them had been forced to retreat, and some of them scorched fearfully; for in many places the stairs had given way, and the flames were bursting on every side. They were attempting to throw up a rope to her assistance--for the flames issued so fiercely from the lower window, that, though a ladder had been raised, no man could have ascended it--when at that moment, my old scholar, James Johnstone (Venturesome Jamie, indeed!), arrived. He heard the cries o' Katie--he beheld her hands outstretched for help--"Let me past!--let me past!--ye cowards! ye cowards!" cried he, as he eagerly forced his way through the crowd. He rushed into the door, from which the dense smoke and the sparks were issuing as from a great furnace. There was a thrill o' horror through the crowd, for they kenned his character, and they kenned also his fondness for Katie--and no one expected to see him in life again. But, in less than ten seconds from his rushing in at the door, he was seen to spring forward to the window where Katie stood--he flung his arm round her waist, and, in an instant, both disappeared--but, within a quarter of a minute, he rushed out at the street-door, through the black smoke and the thick sparks, wi' the bonny creature that he adored in his arms. O doctor, had ye heard the shout that burst frae the multitude!--there was not one amongst them at that moment that couldna have hugged Jamie to his heart. His hands were sore burned, and on several places his clothes were on fire. Katie was but little hurt; but, on finding herself on the street, she cast an anxious and despairing look towards the window from which she had been snatched, and again wringing her hands, exclaimed, in accents of bitterness that go through my heart to this day--

"My father! oh, my father! Is there no help for him?--shall my father perish?"

"The rope!--gie me the rope!" cried Jamie.

He snatched it from the hand of a bystander, and again rushed into the smoking ruins. The consternation of the crowd became greater, and their anxiety more intense than before. Full three minutes passed, and nothing was seen of him. The crowded street became as silent as death; even those who were running backward and forward, carrying water, for a time stood still. The suspense was agonising. At length he appeared at the window, with the sick man wrapped up in the bedclothes, and holding him to his side with his right arm around him. The hope and fear of the people became indescribable. Never did I witness such a scene--never may I witness such again! Having fastened one end of the rope to the bed, he flung the other from the window to the street; and, grasping it with his left hand, he drew himself out of the window, with Katie's father in his arm, and, crossing his feet around the rope, he slid down to the street, bearing his burden with him! Then, sir, the congratulations o' the multitude were unbounded. Every one was anxious to shake him by the hand; but what with the burning his right hand had sustained, and the worse than burning his left had suffered wi' the sliding down a rope frae a third storey, wi' a man under his arm, I may say that my venturesome and gallant auld scholar hadna a hand to shake.

Ye canna be surprised to hear--and, at the time o' life ye've arrived at, ye'll be no longer jealous; besides, during dinner, I think ye spoke o' having a wife and family--I say, therefore, doctor, that ye'll neither be jealous nor surprised to hear, that from that day Katie's dryness to Jamie melted down. Moreover, as ye had gane out to India, where ye would be mair likely to look after siller than think o' a wife, and as I understand ye had dropped correspondence for some length o' time, ye couldna think yoursel in ony way slighted. Now, folk say that "nineteen _nay-says_ are half a _yes_." For my part (and my age is approaching the heels o' the patriarchs), I never put it in the power o' woman born to say _No_ to me. But, as I have heard and believe, Katie had said _No_ to Jamie before the fire, not only nineteen times, but thirty-eight times twice told, and he found seventy-six (which is about my age) nae nearer a _yea_ than the first _nay_. And folk said it was a' on account o' a foolish passion for the doctor laddie that had gane abroad. But Katie was a kind, gratefu lassie. She couldna look wi' cauldness upon the man that had not only saved her life, but her father's also; and I ought to have informed you that, within two minutes from the time of her father's being snatched from the room where he lay, the floor fell in, and the flames burst from the window where Katie had been standing a few minutes before.

Her father recovered from the fever, but he died within six months after the fire, and left her a portionless orphan, or what was next door to it. Jamie urged her to make him happy, and at last she consented, and they were married. But ye remember that his parents were in affluent circumstances; they thought he had demeaned himself by his marriage, and they shut their door upon him, and disowned him athegither. As he was his father's heir, he was brought up to no calling or business whatsoever; and, when the auld man not only vowed to cut him off wi' a shilling, on account of his marriage, but absolutely got his will altered accordingly, what did the silly lad do, but, in desperation, list into a regiment that was gaun abroad. "The laddie has done it in a fit o' passion," said I, "and what will become o' poor Katie?" Weel, although it was said that the lassie never had ony particular affection for him, but just married him out o' gratitude, and although several genteel families in the neighbourhood offered her respectable and comfortable situations (for she was universally liked), yet the strange creature preferred to follow the hard fortunes o' Jamie, who had been disowned on her account, and she implored the officers of the regiment to be allowed to accompany him. It is possible that they were interested with her appearance, and what they had heard of his connection, and the manner in which he had been treated, for they granted her request; and about a month after he enlisted, the regiment marched from Carlisle, and Katie accompanied her husband. They went abroad somewhere--to the East or West Indies, I believe; but from that day to this I have never heard a word concerning either the one or the other, or whether they be living or not. All I know is, that the auld man died within two years after his son had become a soldier, and, keeping his resentment to his last breath, actually left his property to a brother's son. And that, sir, is all that I know of Venturesome Jamie and your old sweetheart, Katie.

The doctor looked thoughtful, exceedingly thoughtful; and the old dominie, acquiring additional loquacity as he went on, poured out another glass, and added--

"But come, doctor, we will drink a bumper, 'for auld langsyne,' to the lassie wi' the gowden locks, be she dead or living."

"With my whole heart and soul," replied the doctor, impassionedly; and, pouring out a glass, he drained it to the dregs.

"The auld feeling is not quenched yet, doctor," said the venerable teacher, "and I am sorry for it; for, had I known, I would have spoken more guardedly. But I will proceed to gie ye an account o' the rest o' your class-fellows, and I will do it briefly. There was Walter Fairbairn, who went amongst ye by the name o'

CAUTIOUS WATTY.

He was the queerest laddie that ever I had at my school. He had neither talent nor cleverness; but he made up for both, and, I may say, more than made up for both, by method and application. Ye would have said that nature had been in a miserly humour when it made his brains; but, if it had been niggardly in the quantity, it certainly had spared no pains in placing them properly. He was the very reverse o' Solitary Sandy. I never could get Watty to scan a line or construe a sentence richt in my days. He did not seem to understand the nature o' words, or, at least, in so far as applied to sentiment, idea, or fine writing. Figures were Watty's alphabet; and, from his earliest years, pounds, shillings, and pence were the syllables by which he joined them together. The abstruser points of mathematics were beyond his intellect; but he seemed to have a liking for the _certainty_ of the science, and he manifested a wish to master it. My housekeeper that then was has informed me that, when a' the rest o' ye wad hae been selling your copies as waste-paper, for _taffy_, or what some ca' _treacle-candy_, Watty would only part wi' his to the paper purchaser for money down; and when ony o' ye took a greenin for the sweet things o' the shopkeeper, without a halfpenny to purchase one, Watty would volunteer to lend ye the money until a certain day, upon condition that ye would then pay him a penny for the loan o' his halfpenny. But he exhibited a grand trait o' this disposition when he cam to learn the rule o' _Compound Interest_. Indeed, I need not say he _learned_, it, for he literally _devoured_ it. He wrought every question in Dilworth's Rule within two days; and, when he had finished it (for he seldom had his slate away from my face, and I was half tired wi' saying to him, "That will do, sir"), he came up to my desk, and, says he, wi' a face as earnest as a judge--

"May I go through this rule again, sir?"

"I think ye understand it, Watty," said I, rather significantly.

"But I would like to be perfect in it, sir," answered he.

"Then go through it again, Watty," said I, "and I have nae doubt but ye will be _perfect_ in it very quickly."

I said this wi' a degree o' irony which I was not then, and which I am not now, in the habit of exhibiting before my scholars; but, from what I had observed and heard o' him, it betrayed to me a trait in human nature that literally disgusted me. But I have no pleasure in dwelling upon his history. Shortly after leaving the school, he was sent up to London to an uncle; and, as his parents had the means o' setting him up in the world, he was there to make choice o' a profession. After looking about the great city for a time, it was the choice and pleasure o' Cautious Watty to be bound as an apprentice to a pawnbroker. He afterwards commenced business for himself, and every day in his life indulging in his favourite study, compound interest, and, as far as he durst, putting it in practice, he in a short time became rich. But, as his substance increased, he did not confine himself to portable articles, or such things as are usually taken in pledge by the members of his profession; but he took estates in pledge, receiving the title-deeds as his security; and in such cases he did exact his compound interest to the last farthing to which he could stretch it. He neither knew the meaning of generosity nor mercy. Shakspere's beautiful apostrophe to the latter god-like attribute in the "Merchant of Venice," would have been flat nonsense in the estimation of Watty. He had but one answer to every argument and to every case, and which he laid to his conscience in all his transactions (if he had a conscience), and that was--"A bargain's a bargain!" This was his ten times repeated phrase every day. It was the doctrine by which he swore; and Shylock would have died wi' envy to have seen Watty exacting his "_pound o' flesh_." I have only to tell ye that he has been twice married. The first time was to a widow four years older than his mother, wi' whom he got ten thousand. The second time was to a maiden lady, who had been a coquette and a flirt in her day, but who, when the deep crow-feet upon her brow began to reflect sermons from her looking-glass, became a patroniser of piety and religious institutions. Watty heard o' her fortune, and o' her disposition and habits. He turned an Episcopalian, because she was one. He became a sitter and a regular attender in the same pew in the church. He began his courtship by opening the pew-door to her when he saw her coming, before the sexton reached it. He next sought her out the services for the day in the prayer-book--he had it always open, and ready to put in her hand. He dusted the cushion on which she was to sit with his handkerchief, as she entered the pew. He, in short, showed her a hundred little pious attentions. The sensibility of the converted flirt was affected by them. At length he offered her his arm from the pew to the hackney-coach or sedan-chair which waited for her at the church-door; and, eventually, he led her to the altar in the seventy-third year of her age; when, to use his own words, he married her thirty thousand pounds, and took the old woman before the minister as a witness. Such, sir, is all I know concerning Cautious Watty.

The next o' your auld class-mates that I have to notice (continued Mr. Grierson) is

LEEIN PETER.