Part 7 (1/2)

=Mortifying Unanimity=

I said, to one who picked me up, Just slipping from a rock, ”I'm not much good at climbing, eh?”

”No, sirr, ye arrrn't,” quoth Jock.

I showed him then a sketch I'd made, Of rough hill-side and lock; ”I'm not an artist, mind,” I said; ”No, sirr, ye arrrn't,” quoth Jock.

A poem, next, I read aloud-- One of my num'rous stock; ”I'm no great poet,” I remarked; ”No, sirr, ye arrrn't,” said Jock.

Alas! I fear I well deserved (Although it proved a shock), In answer to each modest sham, That plain retort from Jock.

=A Consoling ”If”=

Bannockburn is always the set-off to Flodden in popular estimation, and without it Flodden would be a sore subject.

”So you are going to England to practice surgery,” said a Scottish lawyer to a client, who had been a cow-doctor; ”but have you skill enough for your new profession!”

”Hoots! ay! plenty o' skill!”

”But are you not afraid ye may sometimes kill your patients, if you do not study medicine for awhile as your proper profession?”

”Nae fear! and if I do kill a few o' the Southrons, it will take a great deal of killing to mak' up for Flodden!”

=Happy Escape from an Angry Mob=

The most famous surgeon in Edinburgh, towards the close of the last (the eighteenth) century, was certainly Mr. Alexander Wood, Member of the Incorporation of Chirurgeons, or what is now called the Royal College of Surgeons. In these days he was known by no other name than Lang Sandy Wood (or ”Wud,” as it was p.r.o.nounced). He deserves to be remembered as the last man in Edinburgh who wore a c.o.c.ked hat and sword as part of his ordinary dress, and the first who was known to carry an umbrella.

It is generally supposed that he was induced to discontinue the wearing of the sword and c.o.c.ked hat by an unfortunate accident which very nearly happened to him about 1792. At that time the then lord provost, or chief magistrate of the city, a Mr. Stirling, was very unpopular with the lower orders of society, and one dark night, as Sandy was proceeding over the North Bridge on some errand of mercy, he was met by an infuriated mob on their way from the ”closes” of the old town to burn the provost's house in revenge for some wrong--real or imaginary--supposed to be inflicted by that functionary. Catching sight of an old gentleman in a c.o.c.ked hat and sword, they instantly concluded that this must be the provost--these two articles of dress being then part of the official attire of the Edinburgh chief magistrate. Then arose the cry of ”Throw him over the bridge”--a suggestion no sooner made than it was attempted to be carried into execution.

The tall old surgeon was in mortal terror, and had barely time to gasp out, just as he was carried to the parapet of the bridge, ”Gude folk, I'm no' the provost. Carry me to a lamp post an' ye'll see I'm Lang Sandy Wood!”

With considerable doubt whether or not the obnoxious magistrate was not trying to save his life by trading on the popularity of Sandy, they carried him to one of the dim oil-lamps, with which the city was then lit, and after scanning his face closely, satisfied themselves of the truth of their victim's a.s.sertion. Then came a revulsion of feeling, and amid shouts of applause the popular surgeon was carried to his residence on the shoulders of the mob.

=The End Justifying the Means=

Sandy Wood had the most eccentric ways of curing people. One of his patients, the Hon. Mrs. ----, took it into her head that she was a hen, and that her mission in life was to hatch eggs. So firmly did this delusion take possession of her mind that, by-and-bye she found it impossible to rise off her seat, lest the eggs should get cold. Sandy encouraged the mania, and requested that he might have the pleasure of taking a ”dish of tea” with her that evening, and that she would have the very best china on the table.

She cordially agreed to this, and when her guest arrived in the evening he found the tea-table covered with some very valuable crockery, which did not belie its name, for it had really been imported from China by a relative of the lady, an East Indian Nabob.

The surgeon made a few remarks about the closeness of the room, asked permission to raise the window, and then, watching an opportunity when the hostess' eye was upon him, he seized the trayful of fragile ware and feigned to throw them out of the window.

The lady screamed, and, forgetful in her fright of her supposed inability to rise, she rushed from her seat to arrest the arm of the vandal.

The task was not a hard one, for the eccentric old surgeon laughed as he replaced the tray on the table, and escorted his patient to her seat.

The spell had been broken, and nothing more was ever heard of the egg-hatching mania.

Another lady patient of his had a tumor in her throat, which threatened her death if it did not burst. She entirely lost her voice, and all his efforts to reach the seat of the malady were unavailing. As a last resort, he quietly placed the poker in the fire; and after in vain attempting to get his patient to scream, so as to burst the tumor, he asked her to open her mouth, and seizing the then red-hot poker, he made a rush with it to her throat. The result was a yell of terror from the thoroughly frightened patient, which effected what he had long desired--the breaking of the tumor, and her recovery.