BENJIE BUTTON'S EXPERIENCES.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), 21 May 1881, Page 4

BENJIE BUTTON'S EXPERIENCES.

I.—BENJIE , S RIDE HOME ON THE BTTIl's BACK. My name is Benjie Bnttons—my profession, a tailor. Ye laugh, freons ; there's sma. occasion. Had I been a sodger ye wad ha' baen regardin' me wi' looks o' admeeration. Puir humanity! Which is the wiser like occupation, think ye —shapin' and sewin' garments together for the comfort and adornment o' a fellow mortal's body ; or borin' holes in it, as a preparation 0' worms' meat ? Like our great tribune John Bricht, I'm nae for fetchin' unless for the hamestead —an', my certie, if it came tae that, yell no fin' Benjie Buttons a fudgie. Auld Faither Time has shelved me frae takin' my stan' amang the younger athletes ; but I've seen the day Benjie sud tak' the shine out o' the wheen o' the callants —either at loupin' or wrestlin'. As to head lore, our historians, feelosophers, and poets are my familiars j I conjure by them.

The mention o' poets will aptly furnish an introduction to my am story—and I fancy the reader will be compelled to own that neither Mazeppa's ride, as tould by a Byron, nor John Gilpin's, as rhymed by a Cowper, is mair' wonderfu'. If Byron's hero rode the "desert-born," Bejie rode the "parish-bred."

It was the eve of tho annual celebration 0' the " Highland games "in oor district. I had still a connection wi' the sports, bein' a committee man and the judge o' bagpipe music. I'm a graun han' on the fiddle, an' can play my favourites wi'. the deftness 0' a Neil Gow. To mak' the tail o' my story clear it will be necessary, at tin's stage, to inform you that I lease a sma' cottage about twa miles frac the village an' station o' Didlum, at the very edge 0' the line. My wife Mag and three bairns are dependent on my needle, a pig, an' half a score o' hens for bed and board, and they fare gey weel, I can tell ye.

It was a Friday nicht early in August, I left my " household goods " hale and hearty to attend oor committee meeting i' the village.

As soon as the feenal touch had been put to the arrangements, Watchie dived into a wee press in the wall, fishin' out a large blue jor, an' a set o' glasses, which he clapped on the table.

" Noo, billies," he exclaimed, " we'll uncork and yell gie me your opinion on my Glenlivet."

Our verdict was gweecl stuff, an' ower the tipple we discussed politics, airt, science, religion, &c, &c. My certie, had the been a reporter in the corner, like Gurney in the • Noctes ' of Wilson, he wud hae opened the eyes o' the Lords —the half o' them scamps or idiots was our verdict. We wud also hae gaen a bint to the " Dower Hoose " about dealin' wi' the obstructives.

We had also a sang or twa, an', in fact, were a happy "band o' brithers," but, as Burns writes on a somewhat similar occaeion :

Pleasures are like popiee spread; You suize tho flower its bloom Is shed, # # # *

Nae man can tether time or tide, The hour approaches Tarn maun ride,

Sac wi , us. It was gey near dawn, though the morning cam' muffled in sic a cloocl o' mist that ye cud hardly see her face. Mag, 1 was jalousin', would bo puttin' Benjie through his facin's for so late, or raither early, hame-coming. My certie, she's a match for Punch's Mrs Caudle at "curtain lectures." 1 was compelled to give up the volunteers to the force o' her eloquence, an' I strongly suspect that I'll no be able to attend oor committee meetin' Deist spring—at least I'm nae expectin' it. While pensively musin' o' Mag's worryin' ■ways, I reached the Old Toll-house, an' bethocht mo 0' makin' a near cut through Tilly's meadow. I missed the stile on

account of tho fog, and began to clamber over the dyke. Watehie's Glonlivefc was flzzin' i' my noddle, as I steadied myself on the coopin' stanes, when a low deep moan struck my ear. It was sac ceriee and waef v' that I gave a start and swayed backwards and forwards so long that I lost my centre o' gravity, and, to save myself haphazard tumble, lepfc down wi' legs an , airuis oxtended as if gaun' to flee. Doon I cam' as a maitter o' coorse, but nae to embrace mother earth, as I expected, but a rough hairy animal.

Thunder and lightning ! I had dropped astride Tilly's " cloddy" bull, Joshua. Wi' a snort o' surprise and anger, nae doot, for bein' roused out o' his mornin' nap, the animal sprang to his feet. I wud hae been jerked ower the rump had I no grupped on by the tail —to which my face was turned. I toll ye, f reens, it was a kittle position to be on a sudden launched—rnair especially as I'm nae rider. I confess that I never was but aince mounted afore—and my experience o' that ac ride wasna re-assurin.'

Joshua gave me little time for reflection — for a second or two he he pawed tho ground ■with a deep ominous low —then giving utterance to a x tremendous bellow he shot awa across the lea, with tail in air, as if he had been stung by a host of gadflies. Roused from their lair, the rest o' tho herd joined the rout, and round and round the park we careered, until wo cam' back to the starting point at the old Tollhouse. Hear the bull went headlong af. the stile, which I had failed to fin'; and breaking the two upper bars landed on the turnpike. At the same time a splinter o , the sticks had torn my skin as well as my breeks, an' I felt the warm bluid trickling down my thigh. The way was now clear to tlie village an', my certie, didn't he go it. Across the railway brig at a bound, then slap through the she bakers kail yard. When we reached the main street o' Dicllum, bellowin' as wo tore along, windows were thrown open, cowled heads an , faces in mutches looked forth to see what the row was, while in my agony I shrieked out! " Help a poor tailor !" How cud they hae helped me, unless indeed, they had shot the brute, running the risk o' wingin' the rider ? From my stern view I kent he was headin' for the kirkyard, an' I couldna help reflectin' that there wud be a funeral passing the same road at an early dale, wi' Benjie Buttons in the procession an' na' conscious o't.

Meanwhile Joshua had rammed tho kirkyard gats wi' his head, but it wildna budge, sac he turned sharply down a narrow lane that led to tho railway, an', smashing the wooden palm' at the corner o' the Station House, leaped from tho platform on to the line. Wi' a tremendous roar, he straightened himself for a gallop along the iron road —head north, tail south —fan, to my horror, I saw, looming in the distance, an object which I kent to be the nicht mail. I then took up my parable, and tliocht, for I cudna spake. " Farewell, ye green pastures and wavin' crops ! Farewell' my bonny bit cot! Mag an' the bairns, farewell! Sorry will Mag be for a' her girnin' wi' Benjie, when he's carried in a bleedin' and mangled corpse to her, for, without a doubt, I'm booked for the terminus."

While thus mentally soliloqueezing, the smokin' demon drew nearer an' nearer, an' I cudna help thinkin' o , that terrrible story o' Poe's " the Pit and the Pendulum."

The latter, if the reader is fameelistr wi' it, is described as eomin' down and down till the teethened edges o' the pendulum begin to saw the victim's clothes. Instinctively I began repeating the Lord's prayer, had finished it, an' was beginnin' the " Creed," fan the driver o' the engine gave a tremendous fussel. It cam' so sudden on the bull that he bounded aside, and slipping, rolled broadside down a steep embankment, pitehin' mo at the same time richt over the fence on to my own dunghill.

After rakin , the muck frae my eyes, an' lookin' up to see f aur I had got to, I saw Mag in her nicht gear lookin' oot for her truant spoose. My certie, didna I feel quear! She had witnessed my abrupt arrival, but she hedna seen the means o' transit, so she shrieks out.

" Gweed save us, Benjie, hae ye come hame by telegraph ?"

" By telegraph ?" I replied ; " no, woman, [ cam' hame by Joshua."

Her " dander" was up in a minnet ; an' without askin' ony mair questions she hisses forth.

"Aye, aye, my lad, ye've been at yer drunkeu tricks again; but the neist committee meetin' ye attend I'll be there tae." — J. C. in the Aberdeen Free Press.