Adam Dickson; or, Sae Sweet, Sae Bonnilie [A tale.] ... With ... illustrations, etc

Front matter

ADAM DICKSON PUBLISHED BY DAVID BRYCE & SON, GLASGOW. London : Hamilton, Adams & Co. LONDON, ...... SIMPKIN, MARSHALL & C<> London, . y_aX__Y^-l . A. B. barrett. Edinburgh, . /^r . -&v Andrew Elliot. "Your mither, dawtie; she's surely no' here." — p. 20. ADAM DICKSON; OR, SAE SWEET, SAE BONNILIE BY THOMAS MASON. (ttUtli sixteen illustrations 05 Janus (Srtig. He played 'The Kirk,' he played ' The (Juier, 'The Mullin Dhu.' and 'Chevalier.' And ' Lang awa', but welcome here. Sae sweet, sae bonnilie. GLASGOW: DAVID BRYCE & SON. 1.888. TO DR. JAMES MASON. My dear Jim, To you I inscribe this, my first story. It has, perhaps, no very serious purpose, and is maybe not much of a story after all, but I know that it will interest you because it is a story of mine and about a place we both love dearly — a place hallowed to us because of one who now lies sleeping under its green turf.

What ever else the story may lack it appears with all the advantages of good printing and illustration. Mr. Greig has done his work well, and Messrs. Dawson & Co. have reproduced it excellently. It is no pleasure for an author to read his own book, but it will always be a pleasure to me to glance at this dedication page, associated as it is with your name. Ever your affectionate brother, T. M. LIST OF. ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE "youk mither, dawtie; she's surely no' hkre," Frontispiece. GRANNY 12 THE BRAKIN O' THE " LOZEN, " 4° THE CAMEL'S BACK 75 "BEGONE, WOMAN, R I'LL FLATTEN YOU,'' ... 89 ADOLINA JEMIMA, • . 124 ADAM READS A PAPER 138 "GOW, HAVE YOU A PLACE FOR OUR FIDDLER?" . 261 JOHN WILLIS 269 JOHN JEREMIAH JAGGERS, JOURNALIST 277 AN INDIGNATION MEETING, ...... 280 RACHEL 285 ANDREW GORDON, 286 THE GUIDWIFE OF BRIDEHAVEN, 316 ADAM 333 JOHN JEREMIAH JAGGERS PROPOSES A TOAST, . . .

CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. ADAM DICKSON AND CAIRNIE II II. AN ACCIDENTAL INTRODUCTION, . . . . 20 III. BROWN versus GORDON, 34 IV. DICKY DOW 50 V, ALL IN THE SUMMER TIME, 62 VI. THE MYSTERIOUS CANNON BALL, .... 76 VII. THE MUTUAL IMPROVERS 94 VIII. CO-OPERATIVE DEADHEADEDNESS 107 IX. ADOLINA JEMIMA, 121 X. FREEHAND DRAWING 134 XI. THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE NEVER DID RUN SMOOTH, 145 XII. OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY 158 XIII. JOHN JEREMIAH JAGGERS, 168 XIV. THE END OF THE FIRST DAY 189 XV. BRIDEHAVEN, 197 XVI. THE FAIR ADOLINA AT HOME 207 XVII. I SENT A LETTER TO MY LOVE, Contents. VIII CHAP. PAGE XVIII. THE BONNIE JEAN 233 XIX. ANOTHER BONNIE JEAN 245 XX. IN LONDON TOWN 249 XXI. JOHN WILLIS AGAIN 264 XXII. A JOURNEY TO THE POLE 276 XXIII. THE FEUD OF THE SEALSKIN WAISTCOAT, . . 289 XXIV. DEATH OF GRANNY, 303 XXV.

Chapter I. Adam Dickson And Cairnie

On Saint Patrick's Day, in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and , a man child was born unto an humble widow in the ancient Scottish burgh of Cairnie. The effort cost the poor woman her life. When she felt life ebbing away she pressed the little red face to her own, and wept for the child who was so soon to be left alone. As the church bells were ringing the burghers to worship she went away, her boy clasped tightly in her arms, as if she fain would have taken him with her. There was B enough money in the house to " put over " the funeral, and willing neighbours did what was necessary. The day of the funeral came, a cold windy day, and brought with it a goodly com pany of mourners. There were drams and biscuits, and then drams without the biscuits ; the minister came and spoke about the shortness of life, how we, the dying, were burying the dead, and of the glorious life beyond the grave, which would know no end.

He prayed for a blessing upon the little one, that his steps might be guided aright, that he might walk in the way of virtue and the path of righteousness. Then the cortege departed. The women re mained behind and sat down to a substantial tea, presided over by her who had been with the dead woman during her illness. The com pany did justice to the providing. The pro fundity of their sorrow did not interfere with their appetites. Up to this stage they had been under restraint ; now they babbled and ate, and drank and drank, and ate and babbled again. aud Cairnie. 11 That the widow had been a " decent buddie " was certain beyond doubt. They agreed pretty well upon that, and so established the integrity of a reputation which had never been impugned. But they all fought shy of the bairn. They had bairns of their own and mouths enough to feed.

Bairns came often enough in the ordinary course of things, they thought, without their adding " outerels " to the stock. One by one they went their ways, and the woman and child were left alone. She had spoken little. Her heart was full. She had loved her neighbour as herself, and the mite in the cradle a good deal more. In the silent watches of the night, as she sat by the widow's bedside, she had wondered what would become of the child if it lived. That the mother could hardly live seemed evident. Grief for her husband had worn away her spirit. Now the widow was dead. Of all who came^to mourn and regale not one vouchsafed a word about the future of the boy. Until some other with claims of relationship appeared it was her duty, she reasoned, to tend this child ; and, having arrived at that decision, Granny Gordon took the motherless, fatherless bairn into her great bony arms and carried it home.

Some get the soubriquet of "Granny" because they are grandmothers, and some (chiefly males) because they are not. Granny Gordon had earned her title. She had had children, and now lived her youth again in that of her grandchild. It was her proud boast that in all her difficulties — and she had had many — she had never fingered a penny of parish money. Mary, her daughter, died as she came to womanhood, and Andrew, her son, married. On the death of his wife he came back to his mother's house, bringing with him an infant daughter, Rachel. Granny, Andrew, Rachel, these formed the household into which fortune popped the new comer in the first week of his life, a most eventful week for him, in which he gained existence and lost and won a mother. They named the boy Adam — Adam Dickson — after his dead father, whose only heritage to his hapless son was a sound constitution and a good name.

These were, of course, in the lad's favour, as it was also doubtless a fortunate thing for him that his father did not attain to even local distinction. How melancholy is the position of a father. If he be clever his offspring suffer by the contrast ; if his children have ability woe be it to him. Pity the author of a clever child. Biographers are tempted, and sometimes yield, to heighten the merit of their subjects by demeaning their origin. The viler the surround ings the more astonishing the gem. Thus art and ignorance make half our written lives written lies. Again, pity the poor parent of a clever child. He may be a worthy man enough, of not inconsiderable attainments, as these go among ordinary folk, and fitted to play his part about as well as the rest of his neighbours ; but lo, he has the misfortune to beget a genius, and for his unconscious daring he is handed down to all posterity as a dull, decent man, honest and respectable of course, but plodding and heavy, fit for measuring tape or weighing out butter and cheese, but never the man — no, never, never the man — whom you would expect to be the great Mr. So-and-so's father.

When, oh when will it be recognised that honesty is the best policy in biography as in other things ; that the truth, and nothing but the truth, should be told ; that one need not be great to have lived a great life ; that the real record of good and great lives is as pure gold, and should be gathered from hamlet and hall, added to the treasure of the ages, the wisdom of experience, the only wisdom worth getting? When, oh when will it come home to biographers that no life is without its lesson if truthfully told ? All the men and women of the world are not stars of the first magnitude ; when, therefore, will a stand be made for the recognition of the millions of decently-able persons, born of decently-able parents, and the authors of decently-able off spring, who have lived and died in the world ?

The home of the Gordons was near the main outlet to the north, close to the churchyard wall. The mail-coach passed every day, one each way, the cheery toot of the guard's horn, morning and evening, bringing out the house wives to stare and gossip, and the children to frolic. By the time Adam had begun to waggle his plump arms and shout " hooray " with his ragged companions at the noisy vehicle and its occupants, the day was at hand when the coach would perform its last regular journey, and the red-coated guard would toot his last toot and disappear for ever. The making of the railway was a great thing for Cairnie. It was to improve somnolent in dustries and revive dead ones ; it was to make provisions cheaper, and wages higher ; and it was to extend and improve the appearance of the town, and polish up and fashionize the clothes of the inhabitants.

Cairnie was in many respects well worth looking at. Nestling in a hollow, it sloped towards the sea, the houses crowding down to the edge of the water. High hills sheltered it from the winds of every airt, save those which swept across the German Ocean. The great Abbey from which the town took its name formed the most prominent feature of the place. Neglected and plundered, it was still magnificent in its ruin — magnificent, yet melancholy. Its massive portals opened no more for the passage of pageants ecclesiastical, and no priestly intona tion or religious chant of holy monk resounded through its aisles. Its pomp and circumstance were gone, and its high altar formed a roosting place for daws. From the Abbey to the sea stretched the long straggling High Street. It was an ancient, irregular, one might say self-willed street, following no rule, save, perhaps, that of contraries.

It twisted where least expected, got narrow where breadth was most needed, and widened out in unexpected and sometimes unnecessary places. Some of the houses boldly stuck them selves into the middle of the street, vindicating their right, as it were, to stand where they liked, while others shrank modestly back out of sight. In brief, the street presented the appearance of having been dropped at random in the night, with hardly time to gather itself together, so that, while smiling at its arrangement, the visitor felt it a mercy that the houses had come right side up. The principal industry of the place was the manufacture of raw flax into linen and canvas. From the great ports of Russia came ships laden with flax, and the names of these far-away places were familiar as household words to the dwellers in Cairnie.

In every street were to be seen evidences of the staple work. The dressing or purifying of the flax produced dense clouds of a dust locally called "stour." It gathered in amongst the clothes of the Cairnieites, giving them a dusty appearance, and went into their throats, choking them off before their time. The roofs of the mills were covered with it, out of the windows it came, whirling along the streets it went, and the scavenger swept up almost nothing but " stour." Seen from a height, the town presented a dwarfish appearance, none of the houses rising to more than two storeys, and many of them consisting of only one. How had it changed since the days of the Abbey's grandeur. Where fair gardens and orchards delighted the eye of my Lord Abbot, dusty, noisy factories now held jingling, whirring revelry.

The once clear wimpling Cairnie Water was a dirty sewer, seething with the discharge of a score of mills. Its green banks disappeared with its purity, and it now stealt shamefacedly by back ways, and under low bridges, to seek absolution in the ocean. There was a fine antiquarian flavour about the town which charmed a visitor from a busier place. The houses were old, the streets were old, and the Abbey, looking over all, was very old. It was refreshing, too, after crowded cities, to stroll down the High Street of Cairnie, where, save perhaps a "heckler" or two loitering on their way to work, and a stray dog smelling the hams and cheeses at the grocers' doors, no living thing was to be seen. The stranger started, as he passed the gray old Town-House, to hear the clock strike the hour of noon.

How could it be so unreasonable as to go when all else seemed asleep ? Who's here to note the time by you, old sun-scorched face ? You busy yourself for nought. There's nobody passing to profit by your diligence. Go, take a nap, old fellow, or better still, a turn round the Port, and feel the fresh salt breeze in your time worn face.

Introduction

Rachel Gordon was two years old when Adam was born. She was his guide, philo sopher, and friend. He followed sister " Aitch " wherever that fair-haired little damsel chose to lead, which was often to the Old Churchyard near by. She had early sought the place where her mother was buried. The old keeper's eyes filled at the artless question, " I want to see my mother, please?" " Your mither, dawtie ; she's surely no here." " Oh, yes, she's here ; father says she's here ; he says she's sleeping here ; and I'm to ging canny for fear I wauken her." " A little fairy like you wadna wauken onybody. Wha's that wi' you ? Your sweetheart?" " This is Adam," replied the little maid, and, feeling that " this is Adam " explained every thing she renewed her former enquiry. Macdonald brought his register, and, seating himself on the grass — the two children regarding him attentively — scanned the names until he came to that of Rachel Gordon.

She was buried in free ground, between two graves, and had no headstone. A wild rose bloomed at the head of her resting-place — a rose planted by her husband's hand. Rachel wondered why there was no pretty stone at her mother's head, and a strong wish arose in her heart tha't she might get enough pennies to buy one. It would not take many, she thought, to get a big stone, for she could pick up little stones for nothing. By some subtle process she communicated her enthusiasm to the companion of her rambles and many a " 'tone " he picked up for " Aitch," — tiny useless " 'tones." And so the happy days came and went, and one fair Sabbath morn found our hero eight years old — a sturdy chap, bright and bonnie. The domestic arrangements of Granny included a long lie a-bed on Sundays, and something extra to breakfast.

While it was being made, the children were turned out, clean and tidy, to bask in the sun shine. They sat on the warm pavement, bare foot, and not over well clad, but perfectly happy. They had enough covering for the season, and not caring a fig about the fashion, were not troubled about appearances. They were at that blissful stage of life when joys are real and sorrows fleeting, when a new toy gives a pure and absorbing pleasure seldom experienced in after life when, more mercenary, and with appetite blunted, pleasure moves us but mildly. A ransom for a taste of the days when sixpence was wealth indeed, to be dispensed in patronage of at least twelve merchants ! What were they dreaming of ? The sinless little sinners were actually, on that solemn day (solemn with Granny), luxuriating in the contemplation of the possibilities of wealth, fine clothes, horses and carriages, and as much gingerbread and sweets as they could eat.

Magnificent ! If only some fairy would drop down, and, saying " follow me," lead them into gorgeous palaces, where the commonest things were made of gold, where the floors and walls flashed with precious stones, where richly dressed servants ushered them into spacious rooms more dazzling than the floors and the walls, where but rumble, rumble, what was that ? Why, the Sunday coach, lumbering into town. The very ghost of the gay equipage which used to dash up to the Stag's Head in former times. Banished during the week by the railway, it held its own — not much — on the Day of Rest. Travellers in haste, resisting the allurements of Betty Simpson's fine old hostel at Linklands, pressing on to Cairnie, or further, availed them selves of the Sunday coach, and were numerous enough to make a paying freight.

As the vehicle rolled in, one of the childish spectators, loth to loose hold altogether of his golden vision, gathered himself together, and, bidding the girl wait till he came back, started to run behind the coach, doffing his cap as often as his breath would allow, for keeping up with Sandy Macpherson's horses was exhausting to a little chap. Not a single copper fell to reward his exertions ; but something else did. Just as the coach turned into the High Street, the smart driving of Sandy jerked a heavy leather padded box from its place on the top right over the end of the vehicle, grazing the guard, and coming right in the path of the urchin, causing the poor spent lad to go sprawl ing over it on the hard road. The coach was at once stopped. The driver swore at the guard, the boy, the corner, the box, and many other equally irresponsible things while the luggage was being replaced, and in this elegant relaxation he was ably assisted by the owner of the offending box, with the difference that the passenger showered his imprecations on the town which had streets so abominably narrow and crooked, on the guard for his careless packing, and on the coachman for his reckless driving.

The rest of the passengers were all either so mightily diverted at the scene between Sandy and the irate " inside," or shocked at the pro fanity of swearing at large on the " Sawbath " day, that the lad was forgotten, and the coach proceeded on its way, leaving him sitting on the kerbstone crying bitterly. There were other and more tender-hearted witnesses of the accident, however, than the foul-mouthed coachman and his heedless passengers. James Brown, bookseller and stationer, as his sign bore witness, had just put the finishing touches to his toilet, and was feeling to see that he had a three-penny bit (it was a collection day) for the Church, whither with his wife he was about to proceed when the mishap occurred. " Gude preserve's, Betty, lass, there's a loon got an awfu' fa'. Puir fellow!

Annie, rin oot C an' tell Sandy to bring the callant in here. We maun see if he's no hurt, puir fel . Con found the hertless scoondrels ! that I should use sic words, are they awa withoot attendin' to the bairn ? Lord save us, but the bringin' in o' that railway's cheenged Sandy Macpherson fae a human bein' tae a brute beast. I'll be wi' you this meenit, my lass; rin ! rin!" And so, exhorting and panting, the worthy bookseller made his way downstairs and across the street, preceded by his servant. He lifted Adam in his arms after the girl had wiped away the blood and dust from the lad's mouth and eyes, and in the midst of the " kirk souk " marched across to his house, and ben to the kitchen before he had time to recollect that he was short of breath, and self-prohibited from violent exertion.

His wife and the willing maid soon made the object of their care cleaner and brighter. The fall had more stunned than hurt him. His lip was cut, and the shock had made him so weak that he was content to lie on the soft bed to which Mrs. Brown had had him carried, and gaze dreamily at those who watched. " He's a sonsy wee chap, Betty," remarked Brown to his wife. " Aye, Jeems, he's no unlike what Jamie was at the same age, a braw loon," remarked Mrs. Brown, a tear gathering in her eye at the recollection of her dead boy. Adam was brownish, her boy was extremely fair ; Adam stout and strong, her boy thin and weak ; but she was a tender-hearted woman, whose fond ness for her lost son made her a trifle too apt to see a striking resemblance to him in every well-favoured urchin who came her way.

" Jeems " at once gave the sentimental tap and the conversation a turn by wondering who the little stranger would be, remarking that, who ever he was, " he'd wager his head his father was puir and his mither clean." This sententious deliverance had hardly passed his lips, and his better-half had but conceived a severe remark on the profanity of wagering, especially on " Sawbath," without having time to utter it, when the servant knocked to usher in a little damsel whom we have seen before. Rachel, for it was none other, had followed the coach at a distance when Adam disappeared, and had made up with it about midway down the High Street, discovering to her great alarm that her foster brother was nowhere to be seen. She continued in the wake of the coach, how ever, as the highly improbable notion flitted across her mind that he might be inside.

The coach stopped, and all the passengers alighted, some to stay, and some only to refresh their inner man ; but Adam alighted not for these or any other purposes, and Rachel was about to retrace her steps when the guard caught sight of her wistful face. He enquired her errand, and, not without a blush, or at least the sensation of one, told her that Adam had fallen, and been picked up by somebody — Brown, the bookseller, he thought. Hence her appearance in the Brown domicile. "Oh, Adam!" she exclaimed, full of concern, her eyes filling at the sight of the white face on the pillow, and, springing forward, she kissed him. That kiss seemed to mark to her a distinct change in their relations. It made her a little woman, and flashed into her heart a conscious ness of something which was afterwards to grow into an enduring, unquenchable love.

" Brither and sister," whispered Jeems ; and the bright smile which lit up the boy's face, and the joyous "Rachel!" which came, half shout, half murmur, seemed to confirm the surmise. Rachel, however, very soon cleared matters up, and the servant was despatched for Andrew Gordon. Andrew was a tall, straight, comely man, with dark eyes, and raven black hair mantling an ample forehead. With a strong predilection towards medicine, he in early years dreamed of becoming a doctor, or at least a chemist, but circumstances were too strong for him, and in the end, instead of mending bodies, he took to mending soles — a sphere in which bad work manship is less easy to hide, and good but indifferently rewarded. For his class, a man of unusual ability — he was noted for the extent of his knowledge, the breadth of his views, the independence of his judgment, and the out spokenness of his tongue among the workmen of Cairnie.

He therefore rather astonished the worthy bookseller and his spouse by his reply to the latter's observation — "It was a mercy he wasna killed ootricht, Maister Gordon ; and I'm sure you canna be ower thankfu' to Providence for his escape, for tho' bairns are a bawther they're a blessin', an' it's hard tae tine them, whatever like they are." " I'm verra gled tae see the loon safe an' soun', an' I canna say hoo muckle indebted we are tae you and your worthy husband for the kindness you've shown tae 'im ; tae you twa be a' the thanks an' praise, for I canna see what Provi dence has dune in the maiter that we should be thankfu' for. If Providence is tae be thanked for savin' the loon, what are we tae say tae the same Providence that put 'im in harm's way ? There disna seem tae me tae be muckle divinity in makin' an accident tae gain credit for tryin' tae lessen its effects."

" Aye, aye, Maister Gordon, that soonds verra fine, an' seems unco wise," struck in " Jeems," deeming it necessary as an elder of the Kirk to take up the cudgels (if such a word may be permitted in connection with a religious matter) on behalf of the Christian verities ; " but you ken brawley that there's a sun shinin' aboon your heid that's no managed by machinery, or it wid be aften wrang. There's the hail vegetable kingdom comin' up fresh an' bricht every year by a process maist simple an' yet maist wonnerfu', an' there's a mair extrornar' thing than that. There's the human body, wi' a' its jints and valves and airteries, an' its vitality, its life, which nae contrivance or airt o' man could gie. There's a' that an' muckle mair tae tell you that there maun be some guidin' po'er, a bein' on a scale an' wi' attributes we canna measure rulin' a'.

Na, na, man! dinna adversely judge the Lord's way o' doin' things because you dinna understan' his drift. Mind that you're only lookin' at a morsel o' what He's created an' direcks — only a vera sma' morsel, no worth speekin' aboot — an' dootless gin you saw the complete an' harmonious whole you would be filled wi' admiration." Andrew listened respectfully. The time and place were most inopportune for continuing the argument. He was in the house of a man who had succoured Adam, whom he loved like a son — a man whose heart was sound, whatever (to Andrew) his theology might be ; and yet he could not forbear giving Brown a parting dig. " It's easier for them wha hae got a guid share o' the guid things o' the world to admire the way things are arranged than for them wha hae got naething but crosses and disappoint ments."

But "Jeems" was neither to be irritated into heat, nor yet vanquished. He quietly closed the discussion by saying that they would " haed oot some ither time," and invited Gordon to draw in his chair and " hae a gless o' something." Finding the lad in a little while quite equal to removal, Andrew took him in his strong arms, and, after repeated thanks and a hearty farewell to the stationer and his wife, strode towards home.

Chapter III. Brown Versus Gordon

The brief passage of the Dickson-Gordon star through the Brown orbit had disturbing effects which did not pass away with the cause of the disturbance. A longing for a child to take the place of the lost one, a child to love, to cherish and bring up, a child whose presence might be in after years a joy, whose fresh young spirit should light up the aging heart with its radiating sunniness, was awakened in the breast of Betty Brown and would not be stilled. Indeed, there was nothing to still it. The worthy woman was accustomed to getting everything she fancied (to do her justice, her wishes never went beyond the means of a successful bookseller and the position of a bookseller's wife), and she saw no reason why this reasonable desire should not be gratified. They were comfortable, the busi ness did far more than keep them, and already snug provision for old age had been made ; wherefore, therefore, should they hesitate to neutralise the one drop of gall in their other wise sugary, well-filled cup ?

" Jeems," after a moment's consideration, was quite agreeable to Betty taking young Dickson. He liked the look of the lad, who would doubtless, under their training, get rid of the vulgar habits which present associations had probably taught him. Yes, the project was a good one ; he would learn the boy to be a bookseller ; and when death called him away it would be more comforting to leave the business to an adopted son than to the contentions of distant relatives. The couple therefore decided that they would adopt Adam, and do it at once. They agreed to take advantage of the weekly half-holiday (when all the principal shops in Cairnie shut by common consent) for the purpose of informing Adam's guardians of their gracious intention. That nothing should be lacking wherewith to impress on the lowly Gordons the worth of their visitors, and the magnificence of the pro posals they came to carry into effect, " Jeems's " very best suit was brought from the recesses of a vast trunk, where it reposed for six days out of every seven ; his Sunday beaver was carefully brushed ; and arrayed in these, his neck encased in a stiff stock, he was ready to meet the Queen herself.