Life of a Scotch Naturalist 6

Life of a Scotch Naturalist 6

The first school to which he was sent was a dame’s school. It was kept

by an old woman called Bell Hill. It was for the most part a girls’

school, but Bell consented to take the boy because she knew his mother,

and wished to oblige her. The schoolroom was situated at the top of a

long stair. In fact, it was the garret of an ordinary dwelling-house.

 

We have said that Tom did not like school. He could not be reconciled

to spend his time there. Thus he often played the truant. He was

sometimes arrested on his way to school by the fish-market. It was then

held in the Shiprow, where the post-office now stands. There were long

rows of benches on which the fish were spread out. The benches were

covered in, and afforded an excellent shelter on a rainy day.

 

[Sidenote: _THE FISH-MARKET._]

 

Tom was well known to the fishwives. “Here comes the queer laddie,”

they would say as they saw him approaching. And when he came up, they

would ask him, “Weel, man, fat are ye gaun to speer[14] the day?” Tom’s

inquiries were usually about fish—where they came from, what their

names were, what was the difference between the different fishes, and

so on. The fish-market was also a grand place for big blue flies, great

beetles with red and yellow backs (burying beetles), and daylight

rottens. They were the tamest rats he had ever seen, excepting two that

he used to carry about in his pockets. His rats knew him as well as a

dog knows his master.

 

But Tom’s playing the truant and lingering about the fish-market soon

became known to his mother; and then she sent for _her_ mother, Tom’s

grannie, to take him to school. She was either to see him “in at the

door,” or accompany him into the school itself. But Tom did not like

the supervision of his grannie. He rebelled against it. He played

the truant under her very eyes. When grannie put him in at the door,

calling out “Bell!” to the schoolmistress upstairs, Tom would wait

until he thought the old woman was sufficiently distant, and then

steal out, and run away, by cross streets, to the Denburn or the

Inches.

 

But that kind of truant-playing also got to be known; and then grannie

had to drag him to school. When she seized him by the “scruff o’ the

neck,” she had him quite tight. It was of no use attempting to lie down

or sit down. Her hand was like a vice, and she kept him straight upon

his feet. He tried to wriggle, twist, turn himself round as on a pivot,

and then make a bolt. She nevertheless held on, and dragged him to

school, into the presence of Bell Hill, and said, “Here’s your truant!”

Tom’s only chance was to go along very quietly, making no attempt to

escape grannie’s clutches, and then, watching for an opportunity, he

would make a sudden dart and slip through her fingers. He ran, and she

ran; but in running, Tom far outstripped her, for though grannie’s legs

were very much longer than his, they were also very much stiffer.

 

[Sidenote: _ATTRACTIONS OF THE DENBURN._]

 

The boy was sent one morning to buy three rolls for breakfast; but

after he had bought the rolls, instead of going home, he forgathered

with three loons, and accompanied them to the Denburn. He got a lot of

horse-leeches, and was in the act of getting another when, looking in

the water, he saw the reflection of grannie approaching. When he felt

her fingers touching his neck, he let go the stone under which the

horse-leech was, and made a sudden bound to the other side of the burn.

He heard a heavy splash in the water. His comrades called out, “Tam,

Tam, yer grannie’s droonin’!” But Tam neither stopped nor looked back.

He flew as fast as he could to the Inches, where he stopped to take

breath. The tide coming in, drove him away, and then he took refuge on

the logs, near the Middens; after which he slunk home in the evening.

 

His mother received him thus: “Ye’re here again, ye ne’er-do-well!

creepin in like a thief. Ye’ve been wi’ yer raggamuffins: yer weet duds

tell that. That’s wi’ yer Inches, an’ tearin an’ ridin on the logs, an’

yer whin bushes. But ye may think muckle black shame o’ yersel, man,

for gaun and droonin yer peer auld grannie.” “I didna droon her,” said

Tom. “But she may hae been drooned for you; ye didna stay to tak her

oot.” “She fell in hersell.” “Haud yer tongue, or I’ll take the poker

t’ye. Think shame, man, to send her hame in sic a filthy state. But

where’s the bread I sent ye for?” “It’s a’ eaten.” “We wad hae had a

late breakfast if we had waited till now, and sine ye’ve no gottin it

after a’. But yell see what yer faither ’ill say to ye when he gets

hame.”

 

[Sidenote: _TOM AND HIS GRANNIE._]

 

Tom was in bed by that time. He remained awake until his father

returned in the evening. He was told the whole story by his wife, in

its most dreadful details. When he heard of grannie’s plash into the

burn, and coming home covered with “glaur,” he burst out into a long

and hearty laugh. Tom heard it with joy. The father then remarked

that grannie should “beware of going so near the edge of such a dirty

place.” Then Tom felt himself reprieved, and shortly after fell asleep.

 

[Sidenote: _BELL HILL AND THE BEASTS._]

 

The scapegrace returned to school. He did not learn a great deal. He

had been taught by his mother his A B C, and to read words of three

letters. He did not learn much more at Bell Hill’s school. Bell’s

qualifications as a teacher were not great. Nevertheless, the education

that she gave was a religious education. She prayed, or as Edward

called it, “groaned” with the children twice a day. And it was during

one of her devotional exercises that the circumstance occurred which

compelled Bell Hill to expel Tom Edward from her school.

 

Edward had been accustomed to bring many of his “beasts” with him to

school. The scholars were delighted with his butterflies; but few of

them cared to be bitten or stung by his other animals. And to have

horse-leeches crawling about them was unendurable. Thus Edward became

a source of dread and annoyance to the whole school. He was declared

to be a “perfect mischief.” When Bell Hill was informed of the beasts

he brought with him, she used to say to the boy, “Now, do not bring

any more of these nasty and dangerous things here again.” Perhaps he

promised, but generally he forgot.

 

[Sidenote: _THE “KAE” AT SCHOOL._]

 

At last he brought with him an animal of a much larger sort than usual.

It was a Kae, or jackdaw. He used to keep it at home, but it made

such a noise that he was sent out with it one morning, with strict

injunctions not to bring it back again. He must let it go, or give it

to somebody else. But he was fond of his kae, and his kae was fond

of him. It would follow him about like a dog. He could not part with

the kae. So he took it to school with him. But how could he hide it?

Little boys’ trousers were in those days buttoned over their vest; and

as Tom’s trousers were pretty wide, he thought he could get the kae in

there. He got it safely into his breeks before he entered the school.

 

So far so good. But when the schoolmistress gave the word “Pray,” all

the little boys and girls knelt down, turning their backs to Bell.

At this movement the Kae became fractious. He could not accommodate

himself to the altered position. But seeing a little light overhead,

he made for it. He projected his beak through the opening between the

trousers and the vest. He pushed his way upwards; Tom squeezed him

downwards to where he was before. But this only made the Kae furious.

He struggled, forced his way upwards, got his bill through the opening,

and then his head.

 

The Kae immediately began to _cre-waw! cre-waw!_ “The Lord preserv’s

a’! Fat’s this noo?” cried Bell, starting to her feet. “It’s Tam Edward

again!” shouted the scholars, “wi’ a craw stickin’ oot o’ his breeks!”

Bell went up to him, pulled him up by his collar, dragged him to the

door, thrust him out, and locked the door after him. Edward never saw

Bell Hill again.

 

[Sidenote: _GOES TO ANOTHER SCHOOL._]

 

The next school to which he was sent was at the Denburn side, near by

the venerable Bow brig, the oldest bridge in Aberdeen,[15] but now

swept away to make room for modern improvements. This school consisted

wholly of boys. The master was well stricken in years. He was one of

the old school, who had great faith in “the taws,”[16] as an instrument

of instruction. Edward would have learnt much more at this school

than at Bell Hill’s, had he not been so near his favourite haunt, the

Denburn. He was making rapid progress with his reading, and was going

on well with his arithmetic, when his usual misfortune occurred.

 

[Sidenote: _HORSE-LEECHES AT SCHOOL._]

 

One day he had gone to school earlier than usual. The door was not

open; and to wile away his time he went down to the Denburn. He found

plenty of horse-leeches, and a number of the grubs of water-flies.

He had put them into the bottom of a broken bottle, when one of the

scholars came running up, crying, “Tam, Tam, the school’s in!” Knowing

the penalty of being behind time, Tom flew after the boy, without

thinking of the bottle he had in his hand. He contrived, however,

to get it into the school, and deposited it in a corner beside him,

without being observed.

 

All passed on smoothly for about half-an-hour, when one of the scholars

gave a loud scream, and started from his seat. The master’s attention

was instantly attracted, and he came down from the desk, taws in hand.

“What’s this?” he cried. “It’s a horse-leech crawlin’ up my leg!” “A

horse-leech?” “Yes, sir, and see,” pointing to the corner in which

Tom kept his treasure, “there’s a bottle fu’ o’ them!” “Give me the

bottle!” said the master; and, looking at the culprit, he said, “You

come this way, Master Edward!” Edward followed him quaking. On reaching

the desk, he stopped, and holding out the bottle, said, “That’s yours,

is it not?” “Yes.” “Take it then, that is the way out,” pointing to the

door; “go as fast as you can, and never come back; and take that too,”

bringing the taws down heavily upon his back. Tom thought that his back

was broken, and that he would never get his breath again.

 

A few days after, Tom was preparing to go out, after breakfast, when

his mother asked him, “Where are ye gaun the day, laddie?” “Till my

school,” said he. “To your school, are ye? where is’t? at the Inches,

or the Middens, or Daiddie Brown’s burnie? where is’t?” “At the fit o’

the Green.” “At the fit o’ the Green! But hoo lang is it since ye was

putten awa frae that school?” Tom was silent. He saw that his mother had been informed of his expulsion.