Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush | Page 5

plough, tho' I
gang frae door to door. Na, na, the grass 'ill no grow on the road atween
the college and the schule-hoose o' Drumtochty till they lay me in the
auld kirkyard."
"Sall, Domsie was roosed," Drumsheugh explained in the Muirtown inn
next market. "'Miserly wratch' was the ceevilest word on his tongue. He
wud naither sit nor taste, and was half way doon the yaird afore I cud
quiet him. An' a'm no sayin' he hed na reason if I'd been meanin' a' I
said. It wud be a scan'al to the pairish if a likely lad cudna win tae
college for the want o' siller. Na, na, neeburs, we hae oor faults, but
we're no sae dune mean as that in Drumtochty."
As it was, when Domsie did depart he could only grip Drumsheugh's
hand, and say Maecenas, and was so intoxicated, but not with strong
drink, that he explained to Hillocks on the way home that Drumsheugh

would be a credit to Drumtochty, and that his Latin style reminded him
of Cicero. He added as an afterthought that Whinnie Knowe had
promised to pay Drumsheugh's fees for four years at the University of
Edinburgh.

II
HOW WE CARRIED THE NEWS TO WHINNIE KNOWE
Domsie was an artist, and prepared the way for George's University
achievement with much cunning. Once every Sabbath in the kirk-yard,
where he laid down the law beneath an old elm tree, and twice between
Sabbaths, at the post-office and by the wayside, he adjured us not to
expect beyond measure, and gave us reasons.
"Ye see, he has a natural talent for learning, and took to Latin like a
duck to water. What could be done in Drumtochty was done for him,
and he's working night and day, but he'll have a sore fight with the lads
from the town schools. Na, na, neighbours," said the Dominie, lapsing
into dialect, "we daurna luik for a prize. No the first year, at ony rate."
"Man, Dominie. A'm clean astonished at ye," Drumsheugh used to
break in, who, since he had given to George's support, outran us all in
his faith, and had no patience with Domsie's devices, "a' tell ye if
Geordie disna get a first in every class he's entered for, the judges 'ill be
a puir lot," with a fine confusion of circumstances.
"Losh, Drumsheugh, be quiet, or ye'll dae the laddie an injury," said
Domsie, with genuine alarm. "We maunna mention prizes, and first is
fair madness, A certificate of honour now, that will be aboot it, may be
next to the prizemen."
Coming home from market he might open his heart. "George 'ill be
amang the first sax, or my name is no Jamieson," but generally he
prophesied a moderate success. There were times when he affected
indifference, and talked cattle. We then regarded him with awe,
because this was more than mortal.

It was my luck to carry the bulletin to Domsie, and I learned what he
had been enduring. It was good manners in Drumtochty to feign
amazement at the sight of a letter, and to insist that it must be intended
for some other person. When it was finally forced upon one, you
examined the handwriting at various angles and speculated about the
writer. Some felt emboldened, after these precautions, to open the letter,
but this haste was considered indecent. When Posty handed
Drumsheugh the factor's letter, with the answer to his offer for the farm,
he only remarked, "It'll be frae the factor," and harked back to a polled
Angus bull he had seen at the show. "Sall," said Posty in the kirkyard
with keen relish, "ye'll never flurry Drumsheugh." Ordinary letters were
read in leisurely retirement, and, in case of urgency, answered within
the week.
Domsie clutched the letter, and would have torn off the envelope. But
he could not; his hand was shaking like an aspen. He could only look,
and I read:
"Dear Mr. Jamieson,--The class honour lists are just out, and you will
be pleased to know that I have got the medal both in the Humanity and
the Greek."
There was something about telling his mother, and his gratitude to his
schoolmaster, but Domsie heard no more. He tried to speak and could
not, for a rain of tears was on his hard old face. Domsie was far more a
pagan than a saint, but somehow he seemed to me that day as Simeon,
who had at last seen his heart's desire, and was satisfied.
When the school had dispersed with a joyful shout, and disappeared in
the pine woods, he said, "Ye'll come too," and I knew he was going to
Whinnie Knowe. He did not speak one word upon the way, but twice
he stood and read the