often noticed before that clever folk were slow at the uptak’ in
early life. The great licht o’ gen’us ken’les but slowly, as the
poet has said; whereas early cleverness is like a lichtit peeoy
that fizzes awa’ at a bonny rate for a while, but sune burns
itsel’ oot.
The schule I attendit wis an auld loomshop in Shuttle Street, wi’ an earthen fluir. The maister wis lame, an’ the best shot wi’ the tawse ever I saw. He seldom meddlet us lassies, but twa ’r three times a day we wud hear something whizzin’ through the air, ower oor heads, and this wis the tawse wingin’ their flight to some delinquent’s lugs. The maister’s aim wis sure as death, as I can get grown-up witnesses still to testify. The culprit wis thereupon summonsed to return the tawse. Ye may be sure he had a bad five meenits efter that. I wud back the maister, when angry, for bein’ the frichtsomest being ye could find within fifty miles o’ Shuttle Street. His big roon face wis aye red, but it became redder as the passion got the better o’ him, his een the while workin’ oot o’ his head like oppera glesses, till ye wud think they were cornin’ to meet ye, and that he himsel’ wis gaun to tum’le atfhisstule in an apoplexy fit.
Ae day an incident occurred of an unusual character that made a deep impression on us. Tammas Taigle, the tatie merchant’s son, wha leeved wi’ his faither at the corner o’ Burrell’s Lane, wis the biggest boy i’ the schule, and a great favourite wi’ his class-fellows. He had an awfu’ gen’us for drawin pictur's on slates. On this particular day wee Francie Strain wis unco keen to ken what an elephant wis like. Tammas, wha had been at the wild beast show, then located at the foot o’ the Sautmarket, took Francie’s slate and began to trace the ootlines o’ a sonsie elephant, much to the delight of ane or twa o’ his neebours, when the air was suddenly rent
