Up in Ardmuirland Part 5

"A light to guide, a rod To check the erring and reprove."

(_Wordsworth--"Ode to Duty"_)

Few of the many conversations I have had from time to time with old w.i.l.l.y have been more interesting than those upon the subject of schools and schoolmasters in the days when he was young.

In the early part of the nineteenth century education was conducted in a primitive fashion at Ardmuirland. In a small community, consisting almost entirely of Catholics, and those mostly in poor circ.u.mstances, a trained teacher was rarely to be found. In many country districts like ours the task of instructing the young devolved upon one or other of the better educated of the crofter cla.s.s. For in those days even reading and writing--not to mention "counting," or arithmetic, as we style it--const.i.tuted a liberal education in Ardmuirland, and many of the people were unable to boast of possessing either. Hence when one of the community was sufficiently versed in such accomplishments he was looked up to as a qualified instructor.

w.i.l.l.y had pa.s.sed through the hands of more than one of such schoolmasters, and his recollections on the subject are interesting.

The one who seems to have made the most impression upon his memory was a better informed man than is usually found in the cla.s.s to which he belonged.

"Finlay Farquharson wes the best o' them a'! There wes saxty or siventy bairns went to his school at Carnavruick when I wes a loon.

He'd been to Ameriky, ye ken, sir, and I doot he'd brought back wi' him a bit o' the Yankee tongue. Faix! He had a lively tongue! He niver wanted his answer when he had to come oot wi' it."

Farquharson's "Academy" was his little living-room--not over-s.p.a.cious for such an a.s.sembly; but in those days no parental government legislated for so many cubic feet of s.p.a.ce for each child, and they seemed to keep in health and strength in spite of that fact. The school a.s.sembled in what we may term the winter months only, which in Scotland may be reckoned as nearly two-thirds of the year. The remaining months were occupied in farming work both by master and scholars.

During the term (as we may call it) the procedure was as follows: Farquharson was accustomed to rise about four o'clock and to work for two or three hours at threshing corn. After an early breakfast he made preparations for his scholastic duties by clearing out of the way all unnecessary furniture--though there was little that was superfluous--and placing the long planks supported by big stones which served for forms. As some children were sure to be occupied with cla.s.s work during the whole time, fewer seats were needed than would have been necessary otherwise. The schoolmaster's old mother, Margot, kept her own chair by the fire, where she kept an eye on the pot of soup and occupied herself with knitting. The one small table served as master's desk and as writing-table for those pupils who had advanced sufficiently in the art to be allowed to use a copy-book instead of a slate--but they were few.

The scholars arrived about eight o'clock. It was required of each, as part of the school fees, to bring a block of dried peat to serve as fuel for the fire. It was always the ambition of a boy of lively temperament, such as w.i.l.l.y represented himself to be, to choose as hard a "peat" as he could possibly find, to serve as a weapon in the mimic battles fought on the road to school. As the fire was composed wholly of peat, and the chimney was wide, the place would be often a difficult one to study in when the wind was in the wrong quarter. At such times, to use w.i.l.l.y's description:

"It wes juist a reeky hole! We wes all well learned to pit up wi' the reek! I niver thocht muckle o' reek aifter that schule!"

The proceedings began with reading; after that came spelling.

"c.o.o.ntin'" followed for those who were sufficiently accomplished.

"Them as wes best at the readin' spent nearly all day at the c.o.o.ntin'

and writin'. The maister wes short enuch in the temper," remarked w.i.l.l.y on this point. "Aye, aye, he wes gey hot in the temper, I insure ye! I mind a loon comin' up to him ane day wi' a c.o.o.nt on his slate, ye ken, an' Farquharson wes that enraged at a mistak' i' the c.o.o.nt that he broke the slate on the laddie's heid an' left the frame hangin' like a horse's collar roond his neck!"

Farquharson evidently held to the great principle that corporal punishment was part of a sound education. Behind the door was a stool, which served as a block upon which to stretch a victim whose offense deserved the extreme punishment, but that was not often required. A favorite instrument was the strap, or, as w.i.l.l.y termed it, "the belt."

Should the master catch sight of an idler, or practical joker, he would throw the strap to the delinquent as a sign that a thrashing was due, and the boy or girl had to come up to his table and receive the punishment.

"Some wad be stiff to come up wi't, ye ken," explained w.i.l.l.y; "but he'd niver let a loon off, though he wes mair merciful-like to the wee la.s.sies. He'd larnt by experience, ye ken; for in the auld days, afore I went there, ane o' the la.s.sies wes a month awa' frae the schule--he throosh her that severe."

About midday there was a recess, and the children ate their "pieces,"

which they had brought from home, and spent a little time outside at play, while the schoolmaster took his simple meal. The favorite game was a kind of shinty. It was played by the boys with a ball, driven with sticks, each with "a big lump o' wood at the end o't."

The more advanced pupils learned grammar.

"I niver learned nae graymer masel'," said w.i.l.l.y. "I couldna'

onderstan' a word o't. I thocht it a gey-like leetany to hear the graymer. 'I mak', thou mak's, he mak's'--seemed to me nae sense, ye ken!"

There were no holidays as a regular thing. School went on in the season every week-day. But there was one great day in the year, which was looked forward to by both parents and children; it was that set apart for what we more delicately reared folk in these days would regard as cruel sport--that of c.o.c.k-fighting! Sometimes as many as thirty of the lads would each bring his bird under his arm, and these in turn would be placed in the ring. Neighbors from far and near would come to the school for that day.

"The best fichter," said w.i.l.l.y, "wes callit the King; the second best, the Queen; the third, the Knave. Them as wouldna' ficht we callit 'fougie.' Eh, what a day that wes!"

But it must not be thought that the duties of the schoolmaster were confined to his school. He was a personage in the community when he had a.s.sumed his position as pedagogue. Since he was instructor of youth, he was regarded as capable of a.s.sisting the literary pursuits of their parents and elders.

"We callit the schoolmaster 'Dominie d.i.c.k,'" explained w.i.l.l.y. "He wes a big mon i' the distric', ye ken, sir! He'd oft write letters for the fowk roond aboot!"

I gathered from the same authority that the "Dominie," for the time being, was also the reliable reader of the public newspaper. When the weekly paper had arrived, all the men who were interested in what the world was doing would gather at some specified house to listen to the schoolmaster as he read aloud choice extracts. In his absence the best reader of the party was requested to undertake the duty.

"My faither," said w.i.l.l.y, "wes aye conseedered the best aifter the schulemaister. If he miscallit a word the dictionar' wes allas consult.i.t; it wes on the table ready."

This recollection called up another in commendation of his father's reading powers.

"The maister o' the Strathdalgie Schule wes a Protestant, ye ken, but he wouldna' hae ony person read till him but my faither. He had to gae till the schulemaister's bedside when he wes dyin'; for the puir mon wouldna' hae the menister, as he likit a' the words clear."

Farquharson's quasi-official position was on one occasion the cause of rather an unpleasant experience. One of his predecessors in office, an old man named McConnachie, had been forced to retire from the teaching profession on account of failing intellect. After an illness, when he was already far advanced in years, his mind gradually gave way, until he was nothing better than a harmless lunatic. No one grudged the old man a little oatmeal or a bag of potatoes now and again, and he could get milk for the asking from any of those who owned a cow. He lived all by himself in a small house, and a kindly neighbor would go in occasionally to "redd up"--in other words, put the place in order.

But the poor old fellow's lunacy became less harmless as he grew older.

It developed into a kind of kleptomania. Should a housewife have a family wash hanging on her clothes-lines, it was not infrequently the case that many of the articles would mysteriously disappear. The most extraordinary objects would vanish from the houses--chimney ornaments, cups, spoons, flatirons, b.u.t.tons, photographs, and such like gear. For a time no one suspected old McConnachie; though, upon reflection, after the matter had been cleared up it appeared that many of the losers had missed articles after one of his calls. When a venturous spirit undertook to search the old man's habitation during his absence, a store of miscellaneous objects came to light, which revealed the hitherto unknown pilferer.

In another way, too, McConnachie became a nuisance to the community.

Perhaps some faint recollection of one of his duties as "Dominie" may have led to it; but he began to show so violent a dislike toward any of the children who might cross his path that he would do his best to give them a good drubbing with his stick. In the case of the more simple he sometimes succeeded in seizing hold before the child had attempted to escape his clutches, and in giving the unfortunate culprit a good reason for flying home in tears to exhibit to an angry mother the marks of "t' auld schulemaister's wand!"

Under such circ.u.mstances it became necessary to take counsel with the Inspector of the Poor with a view to getting McConnachie placed under restraint. Matters were easily settled and a time fixed for his deportation to the County Asylum.

But though the old fellow was mad enough in some respects, he was sharp enough in others! It required diplomacy to get him to leave his home and undertake a journey even in the conveyance which the Inspector had promised to provide to take him to the railway station some miles away.

Farquharson, on account of his office, was the only person in the community who was on terms of cordiality with McConnachie; for the old man had a great idea of his position in Ardmuirland, and held himself somewhat above the common run of people. With Farquharson he could converse as with one who was _almost_ an equal--not absolutely, for he himself had been through some little training which the other had not.

To Farquharson, therefore, the Inspector looked for a.s.sistance. He arranged for him to travel with the old fellow, under the pretence of visiting a large school on the invitation of a master there whom he knew; this supposit.i.tious friend had included McConnachie in the letter (really written by the Inspector) which Farquharson had received on the subject.

The old schoolmaster was easily duped by this trick, and on an appointed day the two set off. The first obstacle arose at the station, when Farquharson had taken the tickets, for which the "friend"

had provided the necessary money.

"I should like to have my own ticket," the older man remarked with an air of dignity. "I'm not a bairn to be likely to lose it."

Here was a slight difficulty! Farquharson had taken a single ticket for the other and a return for himself. It would never do to allow this to be known. On the other hand, McConnachie must be kept in good humor or he would give trouble to his guardian, who began now to see the weak points in the plot. So trusting to the certainty of being able to get back the remaining half-ticket when the old man was safely lodged in the Asylum, he retained the single ticket and gave McConnachie the other.

They reached the end of their railway journey successfully, and Farquharson managed to explain their destination to a porter privately, and asked him to get a cab for them. The man was either stupid or was disappointed at receiving an insignificant tip, since Farquharson was not one to waste money unnecessarily; for he gave the direction "Asylum" to the driver in a voice that McConnachie must have been deaf not to have heard distinctly. Farquharson glanced at once at his companion, but the old man's face was expressionless, and he persuaded himself, almost against his will, that McConnachie was too much taken up with the novelty of the situation to catch the words spoken. The eagerness with which the old man took notice of every feature of their progress tended to confirm the idea, and by the time the Asylum was reached Farquharson felt more at ease.

"The grounds are well kept," remarked McConnachie as they proceeded up the short avenue.

"Aye, aye, they are that!" was the other's ready answer.

"It seems a big building!" said the old man, as they drove up to the entrance.

"Far bigger than I expected," said Farquharson.

The cabby rang the bell, and the door was opened by a man-servant, who came down the steps and opened the carriage door. Farquharson got out first and incautiously walked up the steps toward the door of the building. With a madman's cunning, McConnachie whispered to the servant:

"That's the gentleman I was to bring. He's gone in, so I need not wait. Tell the man to drive back."

And the agonized Farquharson beheld his charge rapidly driving away and leaving him behind alone.

"Stop! Stop!" he cried in an angry voice. "That's the man I was bringing here! He's not fit to be left alone. I tell you he's the daft man! I'm only a friend!"

"Quite so, sir," said the servant quietly. "It will be all right if you will step in for a few minutes. We can easily explain to the Governor."

Two other attendants had appeared on the scene by this time, and the gentle pressure of the servant's hand on his arm induced the hapless Farquharson to ascend the steps once more and enter the hall.