RECOLLECTIONS OF A SCOTCH TOWN.

Otago Witness, Issue 2320, 18 August 1898, Page 47

RECOLLECTIONS OF A SCOTCH TOWN.

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By J, T. S. C.

A very fair assortment of typical Scotch characters was to be found in the bonnie Perthshire town of C 30 years ago. In consideration of his important public office, Andrew " Nick," the town bellman and billsticker, deserves first mention. He was a shock-headed, red-whiskered, waterless--looking man, and judging by his rather distant manner, and his impressive style of ringing the bell before lie made his announcements, he evidently considered himself to be the backbone of the burgh. The only clothes that I ever remember to have seen him in were about three sizes too big ■vor him, and the ventilatois in his gresixy " brceks " allowed the curious in such matters to observe that the hue of his " sark " was almost identical with that of his grimy "grauvit." While in the course oE making announcements of sales, etc., he used to begin" at the bottom end of the main street, by "ringing his bell three times in a measuied and important manner, and would then call ■ oirfc, in a rather harsh voice, something i o the following effect: "Tak' nottice ! tak' nottice ! A roup '11 be held at twa' o'clock the morn at (Jeordie M'Plooter's," etc.

Andrew was the possessor of a. rather elephantine wit, of which the following is a lair specimen, A sale of old timber was taking place one day, and was attended by a large number of' people. A poor and elderly widow made a small bid foi one of the heaps of wood, and the auctioneer — wiio was a big kind-hearted man. with a vibrating nose of the bottle variety — promptly brought his hammer down with the reinaik, "There ye are, my woman, that'll boil <Je kettle for you," upon which Andrew calhd out from the back of the crowd, " JS T o, it'll no bile the kettle ; it'll only bile the watter!" This really brilliant effort made even the solemn -faced beadle smile

" Fooscanhaud " was another well-known identity. He was a wrinkled, hard-faced old man, and to the best of my recollection never did any work — a fact which gave some weight to the popular belief that he had a considerable " stocking " stowed away somewhere. The incident which suggested his nickname—every second person in the town had a nickname—showed that his money miibfc have been at least in excess of his manners. Having made a call at the house of a friend of mine while the family were at table, he was invited to join them. Eagerly accepting the offer, the old man wielded a very active knife and fork for some time, till at last, with a pathetic look at the remainder of the eatables, he reluctantly gave in. On being asked by his hostess if he would have another cup, .of tea, he grunted out, " No, nae mair the noo ; A"m as foil's a can haud !"

A worthy of a different kind was " Cm ly Bob.'' Eob picked up a desultory sort of living by killing pigs, doing a little droving and giving a hand at times to the butchers in the way of killing a "cattle beast." He •was a fine figure of a man, with a leoniue head of the most glorioiis curls imaginable. He was an expert hand at his trade, and while there was plenty of work about, he stuck to it like a man, but if trade was slack lie used to endeavom to equalise matters ly getting " tight " himself, and, as a consequence was intimately acquainted with the interiors of all the gill stoups in the town. Rob had a strong, and rather sour-looking collie dog culled Bauldy, of a light fan colour, that was as Avell up to the business of pig-killing as " Curly " himself. Both Bauldy and his master seemed to enjoy the ear-splitting screams of n doomed pig, as Rob's first ace on being called in to kill one was to open the door of the sty, upon which Bituldy Avould make a. dash at the released animal and grab him by the ear. It didn't matter how big the pig was, or how piteous his squeals, there Bauldy would hold him like a vice until Bub got his " gully" ready.

Ptob was not a bad sort, poor fellow, and as his manly voice floated on the evening air around his favourite pub as he sang, "Here's a hand, ma' trusty frien'," or " Jist n, wee diap in oor e'e," one felt convinced that he was telling the truth when he said, as he often did, "A niver hiv a bawbee tue bless masel" wi' !"

A splendid .sample of a class of men it ■would be now impossible to meet was Davy King. Bsnvy was a powerfully -built sturdy old Waterloo warrior, who had lost his sight as the result of a wound received in that memorable battle. He had taken part in most of the fighting throughout the Peninsular war. and as he related thrilling incidents of that fearful time, my boyish imagination pictured him as being truly a king among men. He was scrupulously clean and tidy in his person, and a sight of his well-scrubbed floor and few articles of plain furniture would have formed an object lesson in housekeeping from which many a guidwife might have profited. He was also an adopt at stocking-knitting, and the picture of the battered old warhorse, as he sat outside his door on a sunny day peacefully plying his wires, would have provided plenty of food for thought to a contemplative mind. Although he must have been at that time about 80 years of age, his vigour and energy were remarkable, and his daily walk foi the purpose of having a " crack !i with his old crony Sandy, the shoemaker, was marked by a directness that was only occasionally punctuated Ly a casual tap with his stick.

Blind though he was, the old soldier was a terror to any bo3 r s who were foolish enough to interfere with him. Let any of them call him " names " as they passed, oi even call into his door, " Quick mairch," or " Shoulder airms," old Bavy was out like a shot, and being thoroughly conversant with the turns and twists of the secluded " close " in which he lived, and also a master of all the strategical points of tins mimic warfare, he generally used to succeed in leaving his mark on one or other of his trembling tormentors with his stick. I have the best of authority for stating thot his marks wore well.

A stirring and spirited sight was tkafc presented by the stern-featured and sightfiss old soldier as lie marched— liij uiedtil

on the breast of his tightly -buttoned and spotless blue siirLout — with his head erect and his shoulders just a wee bit squarcr than usual by the side of the local volunteers as they passed down the steep mam street to the cheering strains of the band as it played " The Rose of Allandale " or " When you and I were young, Maggie." The weaver who would not willingly have drawn a s-word at the, sight weie indeed a worm !

A connecting link between the i>\\ hero and his young disciples was supplied in the wiry person of Sergeant, dipel, (he drill instructor, who was a time expired Crimean veteran, and who^e sharply-uttered reminder ot " Plight, lift, might, lift," to some erring recruit showed that his feet, at any rate, were not upon their native turf. Mention of these old soldiers reminds me of another ex-military resident, of C- , a master carpenter uumed M-'Uregoi, who created a bit of a scars amongst his men as they were returning oiui sumsnui evening from a contract on which they were engaged at. Drumawhandic, a place afc a little distance from the town. The conversation of the men turned upon cavalry charges, and to settle the men's doubts as to how the thing was done Mr M'Gregor -v. bo as a sergeant in the Scots (Jroys had been " through tho Crimea" — pioaiptly so!, about., witii the limited mean?; at his c!ispcw.l,,to siiosv them. On the roadside theno happened to be feeding a distorted, fiddle-headed old white call horse, with a short piece ot rope round his neck, upon whose bony back .M'Qregor -nstantly hopped The old shatter gave a bewildered sort of snort, and immediately tried to buck, but as he hadn't energy enough to do so with more than one leg at a time his rider put a stop to his performance by a whack with a 4ft jiiece of rail that he had picked up, at the same time calling to his men to go down the road a bit. ■ As soon as the enemy had got about 100 yds off the old cavalry man stuck his heels into the flanks of his improvised charger, and the astonished animal, breaking" into a kind of rudimentary gallop, came swishing down amongst the Russian gunners, with M'Gregor yelling out the war cry of the iamous regiment whose motto is " Second to none,"' and slashing with Irs wooden sabre right and left. The enemy beat a wise and rapid retieat, and the charge of the Heavy Brigade at Drumawhandie ended in a rather paradoxical victory for the British army, the Russians, though routed, being uninjured, while some days afterwards the Heavy Brigade was heard to remark, as he sank into a chair with a blissful expression of re&t on his handsome and jovial face — " Man, efter bein' aboot a week on yer feet it's graa' tae get a seat !"