AN AULD SCHULE DOMINIE.

Westport Times, Volume VIII, Issue 1167, 14 April 1874, Page 3

AN AULD SCHULE DOMINIE.

Speaking aboot schules, I canna help telling ye aboot the yin I was at when I was a laddie. Cocky Yercumticht was the maister's Dame, an a terrible man for pawmies. The schule was doun a dark close that scarcely ever saw the licht o' day. This dominie was a wee wiry body wi' a big tonzy wig o' broun hair, an' unco lame o' the left leg. He had neither wife nor bairns, but lived by himsel' in a wee room aff the schule. It was a common thing, when the scholars were at their lessons, to inhale the rosy fragrance o' pease brose, hot coffee, and a roastit red herring coinin' ben frae the dominie's room in the mornin's, an a skakin voice micht be heard at intervals shouting frae the same place—- " Spelling book class —(a bite) —stand to yer feet —(a gulp). History o' Scotland class—(a bite) —attend to the questions at the end o' the sixteenth chapter—(a gulp).) Grammar class—(a bite) —parse the first chapter o' Matthic backwards for yer conduct yesterday—(a gulp). Jean Mackintosh ?" " Here sir." " Get mo anither penny bap this mornin's bakin'." ''Yes sir." "John Sourrocks?" " Here sir." " What are ye laughin' at ?" " It was nae me sir." "I heard ye, sir." Johnny persists in his innocence, when oot rushes the domic frae his room, wi, a big bowl o' coffee in the ae hand, a pair o' tawse in the ither, an' a white ring o' flour au' butter round his mouth, his een a' the time fiashiu fire through his spectacles. Johnnie roars an' greets as the dominie comes yerk owre his hurdics ; an' at that moment in comes Jcanic Mackintosh wi' a face as pale as death, an' something huddled up in her apron. " I couldna get a penny bap, sir," she says, a' trcmblin' ; there a' dune, an'— an'—an'—an' I brocht iliac," slowly takin' oot o' her apron four hard farthing scones. The dominie's fair dancin' wi' passion noo, an' Jeanic gets . a dose o' something that keeps her fine an' comfortable for the remainder o' the day. I'm sorry to say that the dominie pacd on the fuddle whiles, but he was naalane Ihcre. !S T oo an' then, generally on the Monday mornin's, when the schule wages were collected, he gaed awa oot for half-an-hour or uae, an' cam' in wi' a face as red as a carrot, an' his nose in a blue lowe lauchin an' speakin to himsel'. A fine cheery word he had then for them that paid him his siller, but pity them that had paid him nane ! Singlin' oot

a bit callant that had brocht naething he wad sae—" Come here, sir !" The laddie comes forrit a' shakin. Up gangs the tawse as the dominie says, — " When did ye wash ycr face, sir ?" This mornin', sir." "That's a lee!" says the dominie, wi' a whack owre. the puir things shouthers. " Eesy Macpherson, what kind o' hands are thae to como here wi' ? Eesy fa's a greetin', an' cries I'll Irimj the aMeh the morn, sir ! " —the warst thing she could say, for whack, whack, whack comes the tawse owre wee Eesy's fingers Then oot gangs the domiuio for anithor half-hour an' in he comes, laucbiu' like a boilt haddie. " Multiplication (hie) table (hie) stand to yer feet " (hie) meaning the class. Dp they start at a respectable distance frae the maistor. " Six times (hie) —six gnng awa' hame, an' como back the morn ! " A scramblin' for baunits, a rush to the door, an' a cheery hurrah as they ran ootbye, wad finish the proceedings o' that day. But woe betide every scholar in that schule when the next day cam ! For whether it was through remorse o ! conscience, or the effects o' the drink, certain it is that his face badna the appearance o' the day before in nae maimer or way whatever. His brow was as dark as a thunder-cloud, an' his ecu seemed to flash wi' preternatural fire, as he glanced round an' round the schule, eivdently wishing to sec something wrang, There was ae morning, a'ter a heavy booze, that he cam into the schule, an' catched a laddie blawin' a tammy-reekie through the door o' his private room. He made a spring at him like a wild cat, but the laddie was owre quick for him. lie jinkit him round a form, then opened the door, an' fled doun the stair, pursued by the dominie. Noo, it sae happened that a tubfu' o' water was lying at the fit o' the stair, wi' a wheeu venerable leeks an' cabbages sailing on the tap, to mak them look caller. This tub was the property o' an auld wife, a greengrocer, that had a sum' shop adjoining the schule stair. Noo the dominie, blinded by rage at the laddie, an' no haein' his specs on, didna see this tub ; an' sae as he darted doun the stair, takin' twa-three s f eps at a time, he missed his fit, an' fell heids-owre-lieels into the tub o' water. The auld wife, hearin' the splash, cam' oot o' her shop, an' no kennin' wha it was at first, belaboured the dominie's hurdies wi' the shank o' a heather besom, thinkin' him to be a thief stealing her cabbages. But when he got to his feel, an' she saw wha it was, she fled up the close, followed by the dominie, a' drip, drippiu'like a watcrtyke, the auld body roaring "Police ! —Police!— Police!' till a sweep named Jack Brouulee cam to her rescue, an' rubbin' his soot-bag owre the dominie's face made him ten t ; mes watir than ever, for he cam' back to the schule, an' laid about him, riclil an' left, a' that day, tilHbe time for dismissal mercifully arrived. But a change for the better took place in the dominie frae that time for mony a lang day. Tears flew by before he preed drink again, an' he had as fine a schule as ony sclmlemaister in the toun. An' to do the man justice, he was a famous teacher. Puir auld body ! he got an unco queer death. He'd been awa aye day oot at a burial, an' after it was owre, he had gicn in wi' twa-three o' the mourners to a public-boose, an' got himsel' geyan fou'. On the road gaun hame, he gaed up a wrang stair till he got to the tap flat, an' seeing what appeared to be a door on a level wi' the landiu', but whilk was in reality a s air-wundy wi' the glass oot, he walked owre the wundy doun seven storey' an', strange to say, lichtifc on his feet • but wi' sic force, that his legs vanished through his body ; an' were never seen matr. He was carried to his bed in great a?;ony, where he didna lang survive. His last words on earth were, " I've been a puir unfortunate man a' my life, but it's a consolation to think that I've fa'cu on my feet at last! "