Morris tribune., 1883-01-13

er Macpherson sucking black man in the
midst O SCHOOL," "Tammas your hand
| writing is denominations; Alexander, Sc
him copy yourself, to show him how {
lad should write" These were the cries
ringing forever i'll my ears. What won
der if | grew to look on Sandie as SUI
pcrior being-to be gaZed at with admir-
alton and envy ,sto be initiated with awe
and fear?"
ut was just the same story when WI
vent to college"
I'VE met there on our former footing
that is to say, he distinguished himself
as usual, while watched him from re-
spectfll distance. Few words ever
passed between US, for we had never
been on speaking terns-either in OF
out of school. But the relationship be-
tween us was clearly understood. Some
times as he passed me in the street
wearing grandly his red college gown
and his college hat, while | crept along
with my gown on my arm, he would
give me n patroniZing nod, that was all
We began Greek together under White
land, and moral philosophy under oil 4
DR.. Plainstaines. 1t was the old story
He was the pet pupil Of both the pro-
fcssors. He drank ii learning like his
mothers milk. From the first Greek to
the second and third followed him Ia
boriouslv-a q clumsy tiedgeling follows
the flight of some splendid eagle, whom
it seeks to emulate in yain."
after we left college | lost sight OF
him for some years. | believe he might
have received bursary and gone to
Oxford, but his father, proud rs he was
of his attainments, did not want to spoil
him for trade, and withdrew him before
he had completed his course. | myself
took to pupil teaching, having not yet
decided to try my fortune i'll literature.
But one day, fired by sudden enthu-
siasm. wrote long letter to the elias
Cow Herald on some questions or the
day. 1t was printed next morning III all
the glory OF large type, and signed
Thomas Ercildoune.' 1t was the proud
est day of my life, but, alas! it was DIES
tined to be overloaded. Toward after
noon | entered cotee-shop and saw
in the compartment next to me, HI:
head buried i'll the paper human fig
ure. The paper was the Herald, open
At the page containing my letter. | sat
blushing with all the pride of fresh
blown authorship. Presently the face
looked, and | saw, to my surprise, my
old schoolfellow, Sandie Macpherson.
Our eyes met but his stony orbs gave no
sign Of recognition. Then he turned to
the paper again and smiled! Yes, he
was reading my letter. 1t might aston
ish the public but it could not impose
upon him. There were Latin and
Greek quotations in it, and fragments OF
moral philosophy; how ashamed l felt
of them, rs | saw them come under his
baleful eye He smiled again, placed
down the paper, paid his reckoning, and
walked out of the shop without a word.
| went home miserable man. | might
put on grand airs before the public, but
one man knew my measure. and that
man was Sandie Macpherson.
1T was no use arguing with myself
that the man was an idiot; that although
lie was glib ct uptaking what was taught
him, he had neither talent nor
originality. The memory Of those
early days haunted me like a shadow.
II am not going to weary you-and
myself-with history of my literary
struggles, till l conquered the book-tas-
ter, the magazine editor, and the pub
Usher, ard became a recognized pro-
Queer of the popular literary article:
Years passed away In the course Of
years | emigrated to London, on the in
Vitation of John Still, the philosopher.
Then l published my first book, and, as
| have told you, it was a failure. re-
trieved myself by my second, which was
about hall as good and not near SO ear
nest, as the first. still had Glasgow
and Sandie Macpherson in my mind
when failed or succeeded, but Ill
course oftime the impression grew DIM
mer and DINNER. 1t was one fine day
that John Still, returning from the north
where he had been lecturing on some
political subject, spoke to me as follows:
1" By the way, ErcildOune; | met an
old schooItellow Of yours in GLASGOW
" /, indeed?" said. feeling the blood
mount to my face in moment.
- A man named Macpherson, d small
tradesmaa, and 4 member of the local
club which took me down. A prosy fell
low, and very sarc site. He amused me
very much with his dry "reminiscences
Of your schooIdays and seemed greatly
astonished that you had made any mark
in tue world
4 forced a laugh, but l felt hot and
cold all over"
''Do you remember him." p :oceeded
Still. "He remembers you wonderful
lym
i III IiOL sure, ICluIIlFu Will CdiC-
lessness. Il believe there was lad Of
that name in the class with me, but I've
almost forgotten him. It's-it's long
time ago.
"Hvpocrite that I was! Did John Still
know that I was lying? He looked at
me for some moments with an amused
smile, as if he were calling up some
queer Renaissance: and II could have
Drained him. Some little time after
that John Still and fell out. He wrote
a criticism on Suckle's History of Civil
zation," and published it in the radical
Lambeth Review l handled the same
book next quarter in the Caledonian,
and turned Stills arguments inside out
in no very complimentary fashion. Still
was a sensitive man, and a while after
that he cut me dead in the street. We
made up afterward, but were never the
same as before. Till the day OF his
death I never gave him any explanation.
l cared no more for E;uckle or his argu-
ments than for that fly on the wall!
Suckle, indeed-the poor, silly, over
crammed cockney gowk! The real cause
of my attack on John Still was anger and
irritation. Sandie Macpherson, again,
was at the bottom of it all"
n cal vi 81 ditCI IlIAo "Oho II
to Glas glow ON business. BY that time
had made name for myself, and my
visit caused stir in the city. state
with Sir Robert Mungo, the Lord Pro-
vost, a silly man, with staggering taste
for philosophy. After few days. [
grew very weary of being lionized, for
nearly every day there was a grand din
ner, and l was bored to death with
admiration by folks of both sexes. One
forenoon, as | was wandering about the
streets, looking at the old houses. and
calling to mini the places had known
when lad, passed down the Gallow-
gate, and saw the name of Alexander
Macpherson over small grocer's shop.
Now was in sympathetic mood that
day; the contemplation of old scenes,
and the thought of the kindness of my
countrymen, had touched my heart, and
it melted suddenly at the name of my
old school fellow. Could it possibly be
the samA? Before knew what l was
doing had entered the shop
eyes, | was right. There standing be-
hind the counter, was Sandie himself,
older, grimmer, but neat and clean as
usual. As entered in, he was meas
11rinp ont q nound of moist smear for n