DR SHAW, OF YARROW.

Otago Witness, Issue 3201, 21 July 1915, Page 75

DR SHAW, OF YARROW.

MEDICO AND MISER. Oi' Shaw, of Yarrow I” The words will immediately awaken memories ; n Border Scotsmen who can look back some 20 years of as strange and whimsical and freakish a personality as ever dwelt in that valley, so much besung and beloved of poets. And for those who remember and those who do not, this brief sketch is attempted, the anecdotes strung together here illustrating the character of the man better, perhaps, than a more didactic dissertation or analysis. William Shaw was born in Wamphray, Dumfriss-shire, in the early years of last century, the son of the carrier who in those pre-railway days supplied the only commercial line of communicaton between the village and the Scottish capital. Young Shaw was a clever young scholar—“a Lad o’ pairts,”—and so instead of taking up the line of succession as the Wamphray carrier, he set his ambition to the higher goal of becoming a doctor. In cine course he was apprenticed to a doctor not far from his home —thus were doctors turned out in those days,—and after the usual term proceeded to-Edinburgh University, where he secured the necessary degree entitling him to subscribe himself “ Dr Shaw.” His' first post as a fully-qualified doctor was at Erkdalemuir, but he remained there for only a year or two. Then he crossed the hills to Yarrow, where he settled and lived out his long life. He never married, and all his life was spent in lodgings among the kindly Yarrow folk. Soon his ruling passion began to manifest itself. It was a carefulness, a closeness, a meanness, a miserliness if you like, in money matters. Never was there such a careful man. The clothes he wore when he came to Yarrow were old and worn, but they seem to have lasted all his life-time—in any case, he never appeared in new clothes. If he ever replaced any garment—and he must have done so—it was quite unnoticed in the thread-bars panorama stretched upon his gaunt form. The only photograph of him extant shows him wearing a rusty black suit of ouaint style. There was a frock-coat of antique pattern, with tight pantaloons. The coat was tightly buttoned, and one could not see whether a waistcoat was worn underneath. He wore no collar—starch Avas escheAved for economy’s sake, —but had a white cloth or neckerchief wound round his neck, and in his hand he carried o bloated and fearsome-looking umbrella. But this dress Avas only for State occasions, and was seen only a feAv times during his life. It was far too valuable to°be flaunted in ordinary times. Where the doctor picked it up no one could conjecture. His wardrobe was always a great mystery, and Avas, it is supposed, replaced article by article just as he could pick them up—for nothing,—or as some farmer in half-contemptuous pity flung an odd, half-worn garment at him. lor long .n bis later years he wore a long ulster or which he had acquired in the same mysterious manner, and, thrifty man, he* invented a style of avearing it which. Avas all his oavu. He avouW not push his arms into the sleeves, as extravagant mortals do—that Avould wear the sleeves out. And so ho just flung the coat over his shoulders and let the sleeves swing empty. Ho also hit upon another ingenious innovation in the Avearing of this valuable coat. So that it might xvear equally all round he Avore it alternately with the back to the front. If the Avind were bloAving towards him ho turned the coat round about and buttoned it—or, as much as he could reach —behind. If the wind were behind him, ho buttoned it in front. The coat lasted for many long, long years, and the sight of the doctor striding along with the loose and empty sleeves flopping behind him like the attenuated wings of some ungainly bird was a familiar spectacle in the countrysides of his wide practice. His frugal mind also CA-olved an admirable plan for maintaining a good stock of hose. As he wandered over the Yarrow and Ettrick hills, where sheep graze in their thousands, he collected asiduouslv all the strav tufts of wool left by the sheep on heather or gorse or fence-post. He had a long stick which ho used to carry when

riding, so that he coaid pick up these stray tufts without dismounting. When he had sufficient he carried the wool to any of his patients who owed him for attendance and was dilatory in payment, and asked her to spin the wool and knit him socks. In this way his supply of socks or stockings was always the most decent part of his wardrobe. For long he owned a horse—though few can tell how he got it. Xo one believes he bought it. The horse, too, was maintained in the doctor’s own characteristic way. lie did not buy any feeding stuffs for it, nor did ho pay for its grazing anywhere, but as he rode along he grazed it by the roadsides, or, if he spied a rich paddock, he turned the horse into it if no one was in sight, and let it graze there while he fossicked about for wool. A set of sheets lasted the horse for years, for Dr Shaw took care that the a*nimal would not wear them out on the hard roads. He was taught to walk on the turf by the roadside, and, later, when the horse died, the doctor made his own boots last out by following the same plan. Dr Shaw was always vigilant for means to reduce his lodging bill of half-a-crown. a weak. If he heard one of the landlady's children cough, he would bolt from his room, look at the child, tel! the mother to give wee Jeanie a hot bath and a few drops of ipecacuanha wine, and send her to bed—and on Saturday bo deducted 6d from the half-crown for professional advice. Yet it must not be thought ha was a quack. Throughout his long years of practice he was looked upon as a skilful doctor, capable of meeting and treating all the emergencies that fall to his profession. Out of their sympathy and goodness of heart the Rev. Dr Russell and Mrs Bussell, of the manse, gave the doctor a standing invitation to breakfast every Thursday morning. It was the great meal of the week for him. For the rest of the week he foraged for his meals throughout the district, and ate anywhere be could get food for nothing.- It was amusing to watch him at table, for always, keeping a watchful eye upon the others, he would manage, surreptitiously, to fill his pockets with whatever eatables were on the table. On one occasion the sad news was sent to Dr Shaw that, as Dr and Mrs Russell were leaving for, Edinburgh about 4 o'clock on Monday morning, the usual breakfast would have to be deferred till the following week. The thought of losing this meal doubtless racked the doctor’s son! all night, and kept him awake, for at 3 o’clock in the morning next day ht arrived at the manse and presented himself to the astonished minister and his wife. He was not to be cheated out cf his breakfast! At another time he was visiting Ettrick. and called upon the Rev. Mr Smith. Of course, ho waited on for tea, and then, the night becoming somewhat stormy, lingered on, chatting with the minister. The hours sped by and approached bed* time, but still there was no sign of tha doctor taking his departure, and at lust Mr Smith, in something like dispair, suggested that he should stay for the night. The doctor jumped at the proposal, and Mrs Smith left the room to get the books for family worship. Dr Shaw then said he would doff his muddied boots in thf hall and he was kneeling down unlacing them when Mrs Smith returned carry inf the big family Bible. In 'ilia dim light she mistook the kneeling figure for that of her husband, and, bringing the big Bible heavily down on his shoulders, she said, “Why did yon ask that nasty body to stop all night? Just take that for doing it.” Dr Shaw looked up, hut all he said was, “Oh, Mrs Smith, Mrs Smith!” Ho would stand any indignity so long as he got food for nothing. He had a very amusing experience on another occasion. Calling upon a bachelor farmer, he was invited to tea—an invitation that was never refused under any circumstances. Having satisfied the inner man and replenished his capacious pockets in the usual way, he rat down with his host for a ‘‘twa-handed crack.” The servant maid appeared to clear away the tea things. The dishes she carried to the kitchen or scullery. The food she placed in a pantry that opened oil the diningroom. After some time the maid came to tell the farmer that one of his shepherds wished to see him in the kitchen, and thither the farmer went, leaving the doctor alone. Then it was that the thought oi the good things stored in the pantry hegari to torment him till he could stand it no longer, and he got up and went to the pantry, where he began again to eat and fill his bulging pockets. When he wa a thus busily employed the maid entered the room. She guessed immediately what had happened, but kept quite still, raked out the five, muttered, ‘‘The doctor’s gone,” and, passing the pantry door, turned the key and made him prisoner. There he remained till the farmer returned. when he was released, somewhat shame-faced, and quite unsuccessful in hia attempt to carry things off with a high hand by declaring that he had taken refuge in the pantry because lie feared the maid wanted to kiss him! More might be written about the doctor, but this may suffice to give some couceptiou of a personality warned and twisted and marred by one ignoble passion. He must have amassed a great deal of money, but he was always move or less of a mystery, and the greatest mystery of all is where the money went to. He died and left none behind, so far as Yarrow people knew; but some affirm that in his latter years he lost it all in an unfortunate speculation. On his deathbed he admitted his miserliness, but- declared he could not help himself. He was buried quietly in the -parish that knew him so long? bub there were few mourners present, for the doctor had outlived his welcome. His oddities bad long ceased to amuse, while his miserliness became mere repulsive every year, borne so doggedly by one whose footsteps were tottering to the grave.