SCHOOL-DAYS AND HOLIDAYS
"HERE is good news for you, laddie. Whom do you think we shall have
with us for the New Year?" said Doctor Gordon, looking up from a letter
he was reading, as Don came into the breakfast-room.
"Oh, father!" cried Donald, trying to reach the letter, as the doctor
held it high above his head, "it's from Uncle Clarke, I know. When is
he coming? and won't we have a good time?" he said, all in one breath,
as he tried to dance a Highland fling about the room.
"Now, if you will sit down to your porridge, perhaps I can read it to
you."
"Why didn't he write to me, too?" asked Don, as he took his place at
the table, for next to his father and mother Don thought there was no
one he cared more for than this uncle. He was a younger brother of
Doctor Gordon's, and also a doctor. Just now he was in Paris, taking a
special course at the University there, and he wrote to tell them that
he had been offered a post in one of the government stations for the
study of tropical diseases, but that he would spend some weeks with
them before taking up his new duties.
Don put down his spoon in dismay. "I wish he didn't know anything
about nasty old microbes, if he is going way off there," he said,
half-crying, "I think he might stay here in Scotland like you, father."
"There, there, you must not mind, dear; this is the chance your uncle
has always wished for. It is a distinction, too, for a young man like
him to be offered this position; and when he comes to see us, think how
much that is new and strange he will be able to tell you," said Mrs.
Gordon.
"All about lions and elephants?" questioned Don, his spirits rising.
"Maybe," said his father, laughingly; "only I don't know that he will
hunt big game like that in his profession; but he will tell you all
about it when he comes."
"And he will be here for 'Hogmanay;' won't we have the fun?" said Don,
making his porridge-bowl dance a jig this time.
"Hurry, dear, or you will be late for school," said his mother, and Don
dived again into his porridge, which American cousins call oatmeal.
All well-trained Scotch children eat porridge for their breakfast,
though it is going a little out of fashion these days. But Don ate it
each morning, served in an old porridge-bowl which his father used
when he was a lad. Around the rim of this rare old bowl was the
inscription, "There's mair in the kitchen," "mair" being the old Scotch
word for more.
You must know porridge is a good thing to begin the day on in winter in
Scotland. Donald was eating his breakfast by gaslight, even though it
was eight o'clock, while in mid-winter it does not grow really light
until ten in the morning, and is dark again soon after three in the
afternoon. In summer, things are turned around, and the light of day
lingers well on into the night, and begins again at an astonishingly
early hour in the morning. You may read out-of-doors very often, in
the northern cities and towns, at eleven o'clock at night. All this is
because Scotland is so far north, but some day you will understand more
about this strange thing.
There were other things for breakfast besides porridge. Eggs and bacon
and fish and nice brown toast, and sometimes toasted cheese on bread,
which seems a funny thing to have for breakfast; and always plenty of
marmalade, for the best marmalade is made in Scotland.
It is said that the word marmalade comes from the word "marmalada,"
which is a jam made in Portugal from the quince, which fruit the
Portuguese call the marmello. The Portuguese think it strange that the
Scotch make their marmalade from oranges.
"There is Sandy calling to you at the gate," said Mrs. Gordon, and Don,
hastily swallowing his last bit of toast and picking up his strap full
of school-books, joined him at once.
The two lads ran up the street quickly, for school began at nine
o'clock, and they were already behind their usual time. At the corner
Don turned and waved his hand to his mother. He never forgot to
do this, for he knew that she was always waiting there to bid him
good-bye. Though Donald was the only child, he was not a bit spoiled;
he was a warm-hearted laddie, and staunch in his affections and
friendships.
The schools and colleges in Scotland are among the best in the world,
and there is nothing a Scotsman prizes more, whether he be rich or
poor, than a good education. Many a lad who has not enough money will
go through all sorts of hardship, and live on a little porridge and
milk, in order to save enough to put him through one of the four famous
Scotch Universities.
All little American cousins must have heard of the wealthy Scotsman,
Mr. Carnegie, who is so fond of making presents of libraries to the
cities and towns throughout the English-speaking world. Well, he has
greatly helped the Scotch boys to get an education by giving large sums
of money to the Universities of Scotland, in order that they may be
able to lend substantial aid to those entering their colleges.
"Let's play 'beezee;' there's Willie and Archie now with the ball,"
said Sandy, as he and Don came out of school for the half-hour's recess
at eleven o'clock.
"Beezee" is a game which would remind American boys of baseball. The
boys wrap their mufflers around their hand and throw the ball, which is
an India-rubber one, instead of using a bat, and run to bases in much
the same way as in baseball.
At two o'clock, when the school work is over for the day, Donald and
Sandy lost no time in getting home for dinner, which was awaiting them.
And so was "Rob Roy," who soon learned just what hour Donald might be
expected, and rushed to meet him the minute Don opened the door.
To-day, when Don had finished his soup, his father helped him to some
of the "jiggot." You probably wonder what that is. Well, it is simply a
leg of mutton, and comes from the French word "_gigot_." You will find
that the Scotch use many words which must have come originally from the
French, though most of them have been changed so much that the real
French words wouldn't know them for cousins even.
In the old days there was a strong friendship between Scotland and
France. One of the early French kings, Louis XI., had a body-guard of
Scottish archers; for the Scotch soldiery have always been famous for
their bravery. Mary, Queen of Scots, was partly French herself, and was
the wife of a French king, François II., as well as Queen of Scotland.
When he died she came back to Scotland to live, and with her, no doubt,
came many French people and French customs. So this may account for
many of these French words in the Scotch speech of to-day.
Don called his napkin a "serviette," which is just the same as in
French; and was very fond of eating "petticoat-tails" at tea-time,--a
name which you would never imagine came from the "_petits-gateaux_" of
the French, meaning "little cakes."
Also he would get very "fash," which means angry,--or "_fâché_," our
little French cousin would say,--if a boy struck him a "coochard's"
blow; that is, a cowardly blow. This word, too, seems likely enough to
be French, and to come from "_coup_," meaning a blow, though where the
coward comes in, it is difficult to see.
If Donald, while playing a game, found things growing too hot for him,
and wanted a breathing-spell, he often would call out, "barley." He did
not mean that he wanted barley at all, but to parley, which is the way
the Scotch have changed the French word "_parlez_"--speak.
Afternoons Donald and Sandy generally spent together, and very good
times they had, too, for they were very "chief," or chummy. They
played games with their little neighbours, or took long walks into
the country, which could be easily reached from Kelvin House. Often
they went fishing. At other times, Sandy's chickens took up some of
their spare hours. Sandy had an idea that he could make a lot of money
raising chickens; so he talked it all over with his father, who was
much amused, but gave him the money to buy his first chickens. Then
Sandy himself built a little house for them in the back-garden, and
fenced off a piece of ground for his three hens and one cock, and even
got his mother to subscribe for a paper which told all about "Poultry
for Beginners."
All Sandy had to show for his summer's work, however, was one little
"tewky," which is the Scotch cousin's name for a chicken. Sandy was
very proud of his one little chicken, and made quite a pet of it.
It would eat out of his hand, and even from his mouth, and would go
anywhere with Sandy, perched upon his shoulder.
[Illustration: A NEWHAVEN FISHWIFE.]
But the best holiday for Donald and Sandy was when their fathers would
take them to the beautiful golf-links along the seashore at Gullane,
not far from Edinburgh.
Golf is the great national game of Scotland, and is played both by old
folk and young people alike. Some one tells the story that it was first
played by the shepherds, who would take a small round stone and knock
it about with their sticks, as they strolled behind their flocks, over
the moors and along the seashore. All any one really knows about the
game, however, is that it has been played in Scotland for a very long
time.
Once, as a very great treat, Donald's father took him to play golf at
St. Andrews, where the links are so fine that they are known the
world over as being the most famous of all these playgrounds.
There is a saying that the people of St. Andrews do nothing but play
golf, but this cannot be true, as St. Andrews has one of the four great
Scotch Universities, and many very great and wise men have come from
there; and you don't get to be a wise man by playing any kind of a game
all of the time.
Another favourite excursion for Edinburgh children was to go to
Newhaven for a fish dinner. Newhaven is a little old fishing-town not
far distant, on the Firth of Forth.
A Newhaven fishwife, or fisherwoman, looks funny and dumpy in her short
petticoat with her dress pinned up about her waist, a white cap on her
head, and over all a big shawl; while on her arm she carries a great
basket of fish.
The fisher-folks' cottages are queer little houses built of stone,
with a stairway on one side.
You have already heard what nice things Donald had to eat at his
afternoon tea. Oh! and there were currant buns, also, just black with
currants. After tea Donald would read, or, better still, his father
or mother would read aloud some of his favourite stories from the
"Tales of a Grandfather," which tell a great deal about Scotch history.
Between eight and nine o'clock there would be supper, of cold meat,
cheese, bread and butter, and sometimes fish, with plenty of milk for
Don, after which he was ready for bed.
Little Scotch children are more careful how they spend their Sundays
than the children of most other nationalities. The Scotch keep Sunday,
or the Sabbath, as it is usually called, in a very strict manner
indeed, though they are not as strict in these days as formerly.
When Donald's father was young no trains were run on Sundays, and
even now there are no trains in some parts of Scotland on the Sabbath.
In those days children did not even take a walk on Sunday, but went
three times to "kirk," as church is called. But Donald often took long
walks with his father after Sunday school in the afternoon. His father
did not, however, approve of their riding in street-cars, which in
the great cities have only recently begun to run on Sundays, and many
people even now will not make use of them on that day.