|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 44
The tired boys lay blissfully up the sunny side of Arthur's Seat
in a thicket of hazel while Geordie carried out a daring plan for
which privacy was needed. Bobby was solemnly arraigned before a
court on the charge of being a seditious Covenanting meenister,
and was required to take the oath of loyalty to English King and
Church on pain of being hanged in the Grassmarket. The oath had
been duly written out on paper and greased with mutton tallow to
make it more palatable. Bobby licked the fat off with relish.
Then he took the paper between his sharp little teeth and merrily
tore it to shreds. And, having finished it, he barked cheerful
defiance at the court. The lads came near rolling down the slope
with laughter, and they gave three cheers for the little hero.
Sandy remarked, "Ye wadna think, noo, sic a sonsie doggie wad be
leevin' i' the murky auld kirkyaird."
Bobby had learned the lay of the tipped-up and scooped-out and
jumbled auld toon, and he led the way homeward along the southern
outskirts of the city. He turned up Nicolson Street, that ran
northward, past the University and the old infirmary. To get into
Greyfriars Place from the east at that time one had to descend to
the Cowgate and climb out again. Bobby darted down the first of
the narrow wynds.
Suddenly he turned 'round and 'round in bewilderment, then shot
through a sculptured door way, into a well-like court, and up a
flight of stone stairs. The slamming of a shutter overhead
shocked him to a standstill on the landing and sent him dropping
slowly down again. What memories surged back to his little
brain, what grief gripped his heart, as he stood trembling on a
certain spot in the pavement where once a long deal box had
rested!
"What ails the bittie dog?" There was something here that sobered
the thoughtless boys. "Come awa', Bobby!"
At that he came obediently enough. But he trotted down the very
middle of the wynd, head and tail low, and turned unheeding into
the Saturday-evening roar of the Cowgate. He refused to follow
them up the rise between St. Magdalen's Chapel and the eastern
parapet of the bridge, but kept to his way under the middle arch
into the Grassmarket. By way of Candlemakers Row he gained the
kirkyard gate, and when the wicket was opened he disappeared
around the church. When Bobby failed to answer calls, Mr. Brown
grumbled, but went after him. The little dog submitted to his
vigorous scrubbing and grooming, but he refused his supper.
Without a look or a wag of the tail he was gone again.
"Noo, what hae ye done to'im? He's no' like 'is ainsel' ava."
They had done nothing, indeed. They could only relate Bobby's
strange behavior in College Wynd and the rest of the way home.
Mistress Jeanie nodded her head, with the wisdom of women that is
of the heart.
"Eh, Jamie, that wad be whaur 'is maister deed sax months syne."
And having said it she slipped down the slope with her knitting
and sat on the mound beside the mourning little dog.
When the awe-struck lads asked for the story Mr. Brown shook his
head. "Ye spier Maister Traill. He kens a' aboot it; an' syne he
can talk like a beuk."
Before they left the kirkyard the laddies walked down to Auld
Jock's grave and patted Bobby on the head, and they went away
thoughtfully to their scattered homes.
As on that first morning when his grief was new, Bobby woke to a
Calvinistic Sabbath. There were no rattling carts or hawkers
crying their wares. Steeped in sunshine, the Castle loomed golden
into the blue. Tenement dwellers slept late, and then moved about
quietly. Children with unwontedly clean faces came out to
galleries and stairs to study their catechisms. Only the birds
were unaware of the seventh day, and went about their melodious
business; and flower buds opened to the sun.
In mid-morning there suddenly broke on the sweet stillness that
clamor of discordant bells that made the wayfarer in Edinburgh
stop his ears. All the way from Leith Harbor to the Burghmuir
eight score of warring bells contended to be heard. Greyfriars
alone was silent in that babblement, for it had lost tower and
bell in an explosion of gunpowder. And when the din ceased at
last there was a sound of military music. The Castle gates swung
wide, and a kilted regiment marched down High Street playing "God
Save the Queen." When Bobby was in good spirits the marching
music got into his legs and set him to dancing scandalously. The
caretaker and his wifie always came around the kirk on pleasant
mornings to see the bonny sight of the gay soldiers going to
church.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|