Ian Maclaren

Ian Maclaren

Summary

Portrait of Ian Maclaren Ian Maclaren Young Barbarians

Ye're a Bailie of Muirtown, and ye're an elder in the Kirk, and ye're an Italian warehouse-man; but for all that, MacConachie, remember ye're just a man. Ye're swollen up and fozzy with pride and vanity, and ye pace down the streets like an elephant let loose from a menagerie; but, MacConachie, consider ye're just a man. Ye're wily and cunning and pawky and long-headed, and ye're got yir own way in this town for many a year; but lay it to heart, ye're just a man.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Ian Maclaren Ian Maclaren Young Barbarians

When things were at their highest, and gay spirits like Speug were beginning to conclude that even a big snow fight was nothing to a mouse hunt, and Howieson had been so lifted that he had mounted a desk, not to catch a mouse, but to give a cheer, and was standing there without collar or tie, dishevelled, triumphant, and raised above all the trials of life, the door opened and Bulldog entered.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Ian Maclaren Ian Maclaren Young Barbarians

English sportsmen in lonely shooting-boxes sent for the Muirtown crack in hours of sudden distress, and then would go up to London and swear in the clubs that there was a man down there in a country town of Scotland who was cleverer than all the West End swell doctors put together. He would not allow big names of diseases to be used in his hearing, believing that the shadow killed more people than the reality, and fighting with all his might against the melancholy delight that Scots people have in serious sickness and other dreary dispensations.
Source: Gutenberg

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