My Man Sandy | Page 7

"That's the denner bell
you've been fleein' aboot wi' i' your hand."
Sandy lookit at the bell; an' you never saw sic a face as he put on. He
lut it drap on the flure wi' a clash like a clap o' thunder, an' I heard a
crood o' fowk scurryin' awa' frae oor bedroom door.
I tell'd the landlord hoo the thing happened, an' next mornin' at brakfast
time you never heard sic lauchin'. A' the chaps were clappin' Sandy on
the shuder; an' ane o' them says--"Ay, man; it's no mony fowk that tak's
their lum hat an' their umberell to their bed wi' them."
But the auld skipper was the king amon' them a'. Hoo he raggit Sandy
aboot bein' a somnambulashinist or something.
"When you want to steal a denner bell," he said to Sandy, "carry't by
the tongue, man. It's safer that wey. Bells an' weemin are awfu' beggars
when their tongues get lowse."
The captain was rale taen wi' Sandy, an', mind you, he hired a cab an'
drave Sandy an' me a' roond the toon. He said he was bidin' in
Carnoustie, and he wadna hae a nasay but we wud come an' hae a cup

o' tea wi' him. "An' if you'll bide a' nicht," he said, "we'll be awfu'
pleased. An' I'll chain up the denner bell i' the dog's cooch juist for that
nicht."
Ay, weel! it's fine lauchin' noo when it's a' ower. But if you'd been in
my place, you wudna lauchen muckle, I'se warrant.

IV.
A TALK ABOUT HEAVEN.
Sandy got a terrible dose o' the cauld lest week. I never hardly saw him
so bad. He was ootbye at the plooin' match lest Wedensday, an' he's
hardly ever been ootower the door sin' syne. There was a nesty plook
cam' oot juist abune his lug on Setarday, an' he cudna get on his lum
hat; so he had to bide at hame a' Sabbath, an' he spent the feck o' the
day i' the hoose readin' Tammas Boston's "Power-fold State" an' the
"Pilgrim's Progress." Ye see, Sandy's a bit o' a theologian aye when he's
onweel. If he's keepit i' the hoose wi' a host or a sair heid, Sandy juist
tak's a dose o' medicin', an' starts to wirry awa' at Bunyan or the Bible.
He's a queer cratur that wey, for as halikit a character as he is.
But we had a kind o' a kirk o' oor ain on Sabbath i' the forenicht, for
Dauvid Kenawee cam' in, an' syne Bandy Wobster; an' they werena
weel set doon when in cam' Jacob Teylor, the smith, an' Stumpie
Mertin alang wi' them. Gairner Winton cam' in to speer what had come
ower Sandy, for he hadna seen him at the kirk. Ye never saw sic a
hoosefu'! Sandy was sittin' at the fireside wi' an auld greatcoat an' a
hairy bonnet on, an' a' the sax o' them fell to the crackin', ye never
heard the like. Ye wudda really thocht it was a meetin' o' the
Presbitree--they were a' speaking that throwither.
"An' what was the minister on the nicht, Gairner?" I says, says I, juist to
stop them yabblin' aboot politicks, an' a' the like o' that nonsense on
Sabbath nicht.
"He had twa texts the nicht, Bawbie," said the Gairner. "He took the

wirds in Second Kings, second an' elevent, an' in Luke, nint an' thirtieth,
an' a fine discoorse he made o't, aboot Elijah bein' taen up to heaven in
the fiery chariot, an' comin' again a hunder or a thoosand 'ear efter, juist
the same billie as he gaed awa'. He made oot that we'd meet a' oor deid
freends in heaven again, an' juist ken them the same as though they'd
only been awa' frae hame for a cheenge for a while."
"I dinna haud wi' yon view o' the thing ava," said Bandy Wobster. "He
wud hae's a' believe that fowk never grow a bit aulder in heaven. The
thing appears to me to be ridic'lous. Elijah, a thoosand 'ear efter he was
taen up, cam' back withoot being a bit cheenged ether ae wey or anither;
that was his idea o't."
"It's a gey ticklish subjeck," put in the Smith; "but, faigs, lads, I haud
wi' the minister."
He's an awtu' nice, cowshis man the Smith. Ye wud sometimes think he
was meent for a minister, he says things that clever; an' a body aye
feels the better efter a crack wi' him.
"Ye see," he gaed on, "I wadna like it to be ony ither wey. Ye mind o'
my little Elsie? Puir lassie, it's--lat me see; ay, it's twal' 'ear come
Mertimas sin' she was taen awa'. Ay, man; an' she taen mair o' my