The Right Stuff | Page 2

examination governs the subjunctive.
"If there is a viva voce, be sure and speak up and give your answers as though you were sure of them. They may be wrong, but on the other hand they may be right. Anyway, the one thing the examiners will not thole is a body that dithers.
"Take a last keek at that Proposition--they may call them Theorems, though--about the Square on the Hypotenuse. It hasn't been set for four years.
"If you are given a piece of Greek Testament to translate, for mercy's sake do not be too glib. Dinna translate a thing until you are sure it is there. They have an unholy habit of leaving out a couple of verses some place in the middle, and you're just the one to tumble head-first into the lacuna. (I ken ye, Robbie!)
"And whatever ye do, just bear in mind it's your only chance, and grup on tae it! Post est occasio calva, laddie! And dinna disappoint an auld man that has taught ye all he kens himsel'!"
Much of his mother's advice was of a kind that could not be expressed so concisely, but two salient items remained fixed in Robert's mind:--
"If ye canna think o' the richt word, pit up a bit prayer.
"For ony sake see that your collar is speckless a' the time."
Robert's first impressions of Edinburgh were disappointing. Though extensive enough, the city was not so great or so imposing as he had expected. It was entirely roofed with glass,--a provision which, though doubtless advantageous in wet weather, militated against an adequate supply of sunlight and fresh air. The shops, of which Robin had heard so much, were few in number; and the goods displayed therein (mainly food and drink, newspapers and tobacco) compared unfavourably in point of variety with those in the window of Malcolm M'Whiston, the "merchant" at home. The inhabitants all appeared to be in a desperate hurry, and the noise of the trains, which blocked every thoroughfare, was deafening. Robert Chalmers was just beginning to feel thoroughly disappointed with the Scottish capital, when it occurred to him to mount a flight of stairs which presented itself to his view and gave promise of a second storey at least. When he reached the top he found he had judged Edinburgh too hastily. There was some more of it.
His horizon thus suddenly enlarged, Robert Chalmers Fordyce began to take in his surroundings. He now found himself in a great street, with imposing buildings on one side and a green valley on the other. On the far side of the valley the ground ran steeply upward to an eminence crowded thickly with houses and topped by a mighty castle.
The street was alive with all sorts of absorbingly interesting traffic; but for the present Robert was chiefly concerned with the Cable Cars. It was upon one of these majestic vehicles, which moved down the street unassisted by any apparent human or equine agency, that he had been bidden to ride to his destination. He was not to take the first that came along, nor yet the second--they went to various places, it seemed; and if you were taken to the wrong one you had to pay just the same--but was to scan them until he espied one marked "Gorgie." This would carry him down the Dalry Road, and would ultimately pass the residence of Elspeth M'Kerrow, a decent widow woman, whose late husband's brother had "married on" a connection of Robert's mother. Here he was to lodge.
At first sight the cars appeared to be labelled with nothing but Cocoa and Whisky and Empire Palaces of Varieties Open Every Evening; but a little perseverance discovered a narrow strip of valuable information painted along the side of each car. The first that caught our friend's eye was "Pilrig and Braid Hills Road." That would not do. Then came another--"Murrayfield, Haymarket, and Nether Liberton." Another blank! Then, "Marchmont Road and Churchill." Foiled again, Robert was beginning to feel a little sceptical as to the actual existence of the Dalry Road, when a car drew up opposite to him labelled "Pilrig and Gorgie." It was going in the right direction too, for his father had warned him that his destination lay to the west of the town; and you can trust a Scotsman to know the points of the compass with his eyes shut. (They even talk of a man sitting on the north or south side of his own fireplace.)
Robert clambered on to the top of this car, and presently found himself confronted by a gentleman--splendid in appearance but of homely speech--who waved bundles of tickets in his face, and inquired tersely--
"Penny or tippeny? or transfair?"
"I am seeking the Dalry Road," said Robert cautiously.
"Which end o't?"
"I couldna say."
"Ca' it a penny," said the conductor.
Robert, with the air