Sandie

“ The old man’s bright eyes sparkled as he spoke, and his rosy cheeks seemed to grow rosier. “The boys,” he said, “will tease you for a bit, but don’t you take any notice of them. There is nothing really bad at their hearts.”
“Thank you,” said Sandie; “I’ll try to take your advice.”
By-and-bye the young men began to arrive in swarms, and Sandie at once became the centre of attraction. It must be confessed that Sandie’s clothes, if not decidedly countrified, were not over fashionable.
“Hullo, Geordie,” cried one fellow, rushing up and seizing Sandie by the hand; “man, I’m awfu’ glaid to see you.” ”

“ Yes, Sandie was an enthusiast, and so the time glided very quickly by. The rolling thunder-laden lines of Homer carried the lad quite away; the poems of Horace, so full of scenes of country life, were music to his ear, the Bucolics of Virgil brought before his mind’s eye such visions of rustic beauty, of rural joys, as fairly dazzled his senses; while to him the bonnie wee Greek songs of Anacreon gave a pleasure he could not well define, except by saying that Anacreon was the Burns of Greece. But Sandie revelled in History as well. ”

“ Old or young the old dame managed to whip off her drop of Scotch, though it brought the water to her eyes.
And now all preparations were being made for the coming marriage.
For several days Sandie had to endure much chaff and wordy persecution from the lads and lasses about his diminutive stature and his uncouth figure.
Sandie didn’t mind. Sandie was happy. Sandie took snuff.
Chapter Eight. A Scottish Peasant’s Wedding and a Ball. Old Laird McLeod had a right good heart of his own, and willingly permitted the marriage to take place in his drawing-room. There were very few guests, however. ”

“ Sandie’s landlady was kindness personified. Dr. Kilgour himself attended the poor fellow, and Willie constituted himself his constant nurse. There was at no time any real danger, so the patient did not write to alarm his father and mother.
He had plenty of callers to keep up his heart. The great Africander came every evening.
“I never saw any one fight more bravely against fearful odds,” he said over and over again, “than you did, Sandie M‘Crae.”
“Oh,” said Sandie, smiling, “I assure you fighting is not much in my line, and but for my friend Willie, you ne’er would have seen me there.” ”

“ Meanwhile they must live in hope.
You may be sure that Sandie had not been long at home ere he paid a visit to the manse of Belhaven, and his friend Willie went with him. Sandie would not—could not—go near Kilbuie; his grief was far too recent.
He found Mackenzie not one whit altered. Maggie May came forward with a smile and a bonnie blush to welcome Sandie back; but she gave him no kiss. She was altered. She was a child no more. ”

“ Mackenzie would always insist on his pupil staying to dinner. Then, in the calm summer’s gloaming, Sandie would bid his friends adieu, mount Lord Raglan, and ride slowly home. Mrs. M‘Crae and his father invariably sat up for him, and he had always much that was hopeful to tell them. But he must even yet spend a few hours in his study; for, pleasant though they were, Sandie could not help{38} looking upon those fishing excursions as so much time wasted or thrown away. Therefore he resorted to his rustic study in the corn loft, and there he would sometimes sit till grey daylight in the morning. ”

“ A STRANGE TERROR CREEPS OVER SANDIE’S HEART Young Sandie M‘Crae was a powerful swimmer, and as he reaches the surface of the water he stares wildly round him; but he finds that alone by his side floats John himself, and instinctively he seizes the little man. He is very light, and Sandie can swim almost as well with him as without him. ”

“ And this was Shufflin’ Sandie’s breakfast, and when he had finished all save the bit he always left for Collie and the cat, he gave a sigh of contentment, and lit his pipe.
And now the lasses began their banter again.
“That’s the stuff to make a man of you,” said Fanny.
“Make a man of an ill-shapen dwarf like him,” said Maggie Reid. “Well! well! well!”
“Hush, Mag,” cried Fanny, “hush! God could have made you just as misshapen as poor Sandie.”
But Sandie took no heed. He was thinking. Soon he arose, and before Fanny could help herself, he had kissed her. ”

“ His own dancing days being over, he said, his son, and a friend of his, would open the ball with the Reel of Tulloch, to which the pipers would vouchsafe music.
Now Willie and Sandie take the floor. Willie leads up Sandie’s shy but smiling sister, Elsie, who is dressed in white, with a M‘Crae tartan plaid, and a single blood-red rose in her dark hair. Sandie wears the kilt, but he has yet to look for a partner.
There are a good many downcast looks, and not a few palpitating hearts, as he walks gaily along the ladies’ benches. He is simply looking for the prettiest girl he can find. ”

“ And more than one manly voice responds, “Amen!”
The strain upon both Sandie’s mind and Willie’s, particularly during the last hour, had been very great; and now that the reaction had come, strangely enough, Sandie, at all events, felt that he would have given a five-pound note for a five minutes’ cry.
{283}
. . . . . .
Our heroes were Crusoes now with a vengeance, but Crusoes after a somewhat strange fashion.
In looking back to all their adventures since they left Sandy Point, they could not but marvel at the wondrous way they had been preserved. ”

“ After walks like these, Sandie always went to Willie’s house to supper. The girls would play and sing to him, and sometimes he himself would be induced to sing an auld Scotch song, so that the evenings passed quickly and pleasantly enough.
One day Sandie received a polite invitation from the Rector to come to supper. It wanted just eight days from the great competition day. The Rector was very merry to-night, and did not talk classics at all; but just before Sandie left, he took him by the hand. ”

“ He was shy, however, and a little taken aback when ushered into the splendidly furnished and well-lighted drawing-room, more particularly as Willie’s mother and ever so many sisters were there. The mother rallied him about the battle with the bully, and Willie arriving just then, Sandie was soon completely at his ease. He soon found that he was among real friends, in the bosom of a family of kind-hearted people, who, though very well-to-do in the world, had none of that foolish pride only too common to people in such a station. ”

“ What could Sandie say to this idle but gentle boy? He could not well refuse.
“My life depends on my gaining a bursary,” he replied; “but I will come for two hours.”
“Well, two hours be it.”
And no more was said.
That forenoon the students under the Rector adjourned to the hall, and the version was dictated, and translations gone on with.{58}
Sandie found that version far more easy than he had expected. He hardly had to use a dictionary twice the whole time. When he had finished, he carefully revised it twice, than handed it in, and received a bow and thanks from the polite Rector.
. . . . . . ”

“ Never mind! were they not young? Ah! hope beats high in youthful hearts.
So back they would saunter through the golden-{176}tasselled broom, and then Sandie would begin his lucubrations.
. . . . . .
Just the very day before Sandie had intended starting north and east to get an engagement as a herring-fisher, he was agreeably startled by a visit from Willie, who had just returned from the Riviera.
“Had you been a day later,” Sandie said, as he grasped his friend’s hand, “you would not have found me.” ”

“ Very humble lassies these were, hailing mostly from the far west, but how many a lady in high life might have envied their beautiful complexions and their pearly teeth, or the gentle smile that played around their ruby lips.
. . . . . .
When Sandie retired to bed that night, the wind still howled and raged around the fisherman’s cottage, and the breakers broke in thunder on the beach.
When Sandie awoke next morning, the wind was hushed, the waves had gone down, and the sun was just rising over the eastern horizon and changing all the sea to blood. ”

“ But Sandie stood firm as a rock.
Our hero now resumed, to a certain extent, his old life on the farm. With the exception of a forenoon, spent about twice a week with his old friend Mackenzie, and his little favourite, Maggie May, with whom he{174} frequently went fishing, he worked with his father’s servants. The horses’ holiday time had come round again once more, and once more they were wading pastern-deep in the daisied grass, as happy as the day was long; but there was plenty to do for the men in thinning turnips, weeding and hoeing potatoes, and other things. ”

“ Presently Willie Munro came up smiling, and then Sandie felt indeed at home.
“You really are going to compete, then?” said Sandie.
“Oh, rather! The old folks expect it, you know. I’m not expecting to win, you know. I shall have a couple of errors at the end of each line, and one in the middle. If they’d give a bursary for the worst{98} version as well as the best, I’ll be bound I’d take that. But my sisters feel certain I shall come in third at least. I may inform you that all my sisters are females, and we all know what stupid creatures girls are.” ”

“ What, he could not help saying to himself, would dear old Horace and Homer the thunderer do without him? Then he remembered his promise to Rector Geddes and refrained. He knew in his own heart that the Rector really was right, for by giving the brain a complete rest, it would be all the fresher when it came to stand the test. The first part of the brain-power to get weak is the memory; and rest, and rest alone, can restore this.
So whenever Sandie longed for his books, he jumped up and went in search of Willie, who was never far away, and together they would plan some new amusement. ”

“ But now an event occurred that for a time banished some of the gloom that hung around Bilberry Hall.
About two months before this, one morning, after old Laird McLeod had had breakfast, Shufflin’ Sandie begged for an audience.
“Most certainly,” said McLeod. “Show the honest fellow in.”
So in marched Sandie, bonnet in hand, and determined on this occasion to speak the very best English he could muster.
“Well, Sandie?”
“Well, Laird. I think if a man has to break the ice, he’d better do it at once and have done with it. Eh? What think you?” ”

“ He could hardly believe his watch, when he noticed that the hour hand pointed to nine.
“I wadna hae disturbit ye, for a’ the warld, sir,” said his landlady. “Ah, laddie! there’s naething like rest and sleep.”
Hardly had Sandie finished breakfast ere his friend Willie Munro arrived.
“Now,” he cried gleefully, “you’re a curler, aren’t you?”
“Rather,” said Sandie. “It is the best game in the world.”
“Well, this day won’t seem long if you come with me. The Loch o’ Skene, nine miles from here, is bearing, and there is going to be curling. I have a chumping horse and dogcart. Come lad, come.” ”

“ Shufflin’ Sandie had had several drops from Craig’s flask, but he had also had good oatcakes and cheese, so he was as steady as a judge of session.
When near to Bilberry Hall, Nicol and Annie emptied their guns in the air, and thus apprised of their approach, white-haired old McLeod came out to bid them welcome.
A good dinner!
A musical evening!
Prayers! The tumblers! Then, bidding Annie a fond adieu, away rode the jolly young farmer.
Shufflin’ Sandie’s last words to him were these:
“Mind what I told you. There’s danger in the sky. Good-night, and God be with you, Farmer Craig.” ”

“ Sandie was, however, much reinvigorated in health{243} from his herring-fishing cruises, which he took every summer. But he never sailed again from Blackhive. The memories of the sad deaths of poor Eppie and her wee man were far too painful, and he wished rather they should die away than revive.
. . . . . .
. . . . . .
It is the end of the last session of the curriculum. Sandie and several others are to be capped and gowned in the great hall, as they have their degrees conferred upon them. ”

“ THE LOVE-DARG—THE BALL AT KILBUIE Home with Sandie to his rural residence went Willie Munro. Willie had invited himself. Willie would not be denied. It was all in vain that Sandie had told him flatly that he would be a stranger to all luxury, that he would have to live on milk, oatmeal, sheep’s-head broth, and new-laid eggs, and sleep in a closet not big enough to swing a cat in.
“I don’t care,” cried Willie determinedly; “I’m going. Rural fare will be a delightful change, and I don’t want to swing a cat, so I’m going, Sandie. ”

“ The loving father, seated in his arm-chair, quietly smoking; the gentle-faced mother, bending over her knitting; his sweet sister Elsie, with a book; the cat and the bawsent-faced collie Tyro.
Quickly enough sped the train, but under the circumstances it is no wonder Sandie thought it slow. His head is out through the window long before he nears the station. Yes, he can see Elsie with the dogcart and Lord Raglan, and he waves his handkerchief{138} to her, and she smilingly waves her hand in return, for Elsie and Sandie are all in all to each other. ”

“ The parting from his parents and Elsie, and from Maggie May and the minister, would, he knew, be{246} painful enough, but then there was Hope to sit up aloft and breathe the flattering tale.
One day Willie, who had been to Aberdeen, burst into Sandie’s room in a state of joyful excitement. He was waving aloft a curious-looking document, which was half printed, half written.
“Hurrah!” he cried. “Now, Sandie, I’m going to astonish you. Better catch hold of something for fear you fall. Do you know the Tomlisons, the rich shipowners?” ”

“ And in order to do so the poor dog must commence flying round and round in a circle, so quickly that his shape is barely distinguishable. Having fondly embraced his sister, and asked after his father and mother, and while Willie and she are shaking hands, Sandie takes Raglan’s head in his arms to cuddle. Then he kisses his soft snout, and the horse whinnies a welcome. ”