The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1883-02-01
sANDIE MACPHERSON.

AHFo OOOh "LASos "hOoS AooAhAH v
Five hundred souls from mortal wrack.
g. P. Cranch, In Youths Companion.
SANDIE MACPHERSON.
1t was my privilege, during the last
days of his strangely prosperous career.
to see a good deal of the late Mr..
Thomas Carlyle-..True Thomas" as
he was affectionately called by the gen
Grafton to whom he told SO many grim
truths. Ihad gone to him as a literary
aspirant-one of the many who, coming
up from Scotland to fight for fortune,
carried letters of introduction to the
great man. The nation delighted to
honor him, and, despite his dislike of
the literary class generally, he never
failed to say a kind word to n Young
brother Scot who sought his advice.
For some eason or other, he took to me,
and though so many years his junior ]
become a frequent visitor at his house and
received a great deal of his confidence.
1t was one winter evening, as we sat
alone together in his study-that study
which was a very Mecca to literary pill
grims of all nations-that he made the
singular confession which l am about to
place on record.
Let me explain the matter, as far as
possible, in his own words. 1 despair
of reproducing the peculiar accent and
the deep pathetic ''burr'' of his voice
which he preserved to the last-as well
as certain eccentricities of pronunciation,
which 1 shall not initiate.
''You think me a successful man, and
such, l allow, is the popular opinion.
Well, maybe Ihave been successful be-
yond my merits, which are small
enough, Lord knows; but lest l should
grow daft with my W self-conceit, the
Lord sent Sandie Macpherson to keep
me humble!
at is a humiliating confession to
make, but almost at any point of my
long career, from the very beginning,
the thought of having converted Sandie
would have been more precious to me
than the admiration of all the rest of
the world. Sandie, however, never be-
heved in me from the first, When |
published my first book my chief
thought was, What will Sandie Mac
pherson think of thisP' and when /
heard the criticisms, which cut me up
like a haggis right and left, I could have
borne everything but the thought of how
he would gloat over them, down yonder
in Scotland. l was somewhat consoled
ard a wee bit hopeful when, some wears
afterwards, 1 published my History
for the critics, knowing nothing of the
subject, praised it to a man, and talked
havers [nonsense] about my industry,
my originality and my erudition. l
cared nothing for the critics, but I said to
myself with a smile: That's one for
Sandie Macpherson, at lastr'
Perhaps you will be asking who
Sandie Macpherson is that I set such
store by his good opinionP Well, up till
afew months ago you might have seen
his name-'Alexander Macpherson as
it was given baptismally-over the front
of asmall grocer's shop in the Gallow-
gate of Glasgow.
''Sandie and l were schoolfellows.
1--WE first met in the Seminary and
afterwards we attended the High School.
AS I mind Sandie now, he was a wee,
smug-mouthed, black-aveezed laddie,
with eyes like hawk and a stoop in the
shoulders. From first to last he was
ever at the top of the class. He carried
away all the prizes at the Seminary. and
when he came to the High School,
among lads twice his size, he was dug
of the class. Such a memory as he hadi
1t was wonderful, wonderful! He could
repeat the whole Latin Delectus with
his eyes shut, and he knew the whole
of Euclid, when we were peching
breathing hard] over the sPons Asino-
rum The Doctor himself was afraid
of him. As for me, where he was dux
l was Ounce. / had the taws an in
strument of torture, applied to the
hands in Scotch schools nearly every
day from the Doctor, and ever and aye,
while l writhed in my corner, 1 could
hear the cry: Alexander Macpherson,
tell Tammas Carlyle how to construe'
this or that passage in the Meta
morphoses.' Sometimes, Just to shame
us, he was put at the very bottom of the
class, and then-Lord, to see him loup-
ing from place to place, like one run
ming up a brae, and then standing,
flushed and triumphant, in his old
place, at the very top!
"Sandie's father was a small trades
man in Glasgow, and you may be sure
he was proud enough of his son.
Sandie was ever spick and span, had the
best of clothes, and n silver watch and
chain given to him by his aunt on his
birthday. His books were like himself
clean, white and neat, with no thumb
marks Or dog's-leaves to disfigure the
pages. He wrote a beautiful hand, like
copper-plate, and in the writing class,
as well as the rest, he was fdciIe
prtnceps. Well might he look with
scorn on my slovenly dress, my books
all thumbed and torn and on my hand
writing, which was ill.to make out as
heather Greek. Well might he be held
up to me; as he was, for a shining light
and an example. 'Tammas Carlyle, 90
out and wash your face; when will We
learn to be tidy, like Alexander Mac
phersonP 'Tammas, your books are q
disgrace; do ye mo- think shame when
ye see the books of Alexander Macpher-
sonp' For shame, Tammas, for shame;
do you yer see Alexander Macpherson
sucking black man Ia species of Scotch
sweetmeat] in the midst O. school?'
'Tammas, your bandwritingi is abomina-
ton; Alexander, get him a. copy your
sell, to show him how a lad should
write These were the cries ringing
forever in my ears. What wonder if [
grew to look on Sandie as a superior be-
ing-to be gazed at with admiration
and envy, to be initiated with awe and
fear?
1T was just the same story when we
went to college.
ave met there on our former footing;