My Man Sandy Part 7
They had a' the Bible stories as dare's dare cud be, an' whenever ony picture appeared they had a' the story roared to ane anither afore Sandy got his fokis putten into order. Bible knowledge is a grand thing, nae doot; but the laddies fair took Sandy's job ower his heid; an' he hardly liked it, as ye'll readily understan'.
But the local characters gae Sandy a better chance, an', I ashure you, he took full advantage o't. He gae a lang laberlethan aboot some o'
the pictures--keep me, if he'd carried on like yon at ilky picture, he wudna been dune when the forenune bells wudda been ringin' for the kirk next day.
"I have noo some kapital pictures o' auld Arbroathians to show you,"
said Sandy to the bairns "the reg'lar rale Reed Lichties. An' I howp the laddies here 'ill tak' a lesson frae them, an' stick in an' get their pictures in magic lanterns efter they're deid too, an' get great big mossyleeums--that's thae great muckle sowsers o' gravesteens, juist like mill stalks, ye ken--oot in the Wardd.y.k.es Cemetery, wi' their names chiseled on them in gold letters."
The loons riffed an' clappit their hands at this like's they were a'
wishin' they were deid an' buried ablo a big gravesteen.
Efter a lot o' palaver, Sandy shot in his first local picture.
"This is Provost---- What was his name again? Be was wint to be a great lad at---- Man, what's his name again, Bandy?" says he.
"I dinna ken, Sandy," said Bandy; "but it strik's me you have him into the lantern upside doon. He's stanin' on his heid."
"He was a gey upside-doon character, at ony rate," said the Smith. "He was juist aboot as muckle use the tae wey as the t.i.ther."
Sandy got his Provost putten richt; but some o' the rest o' his notables were juist as pranky. They cam' in backside-foremost, upside-doon, lying alang the floor--ye never saw the like--until Sandy was near-hand at the swearin'. "Confoond thae Provosts and Bailies,"
says he, "I never saw sic a set."
"Ow, ow, Sandy," says I, "ye needna get angry at thae bodies; they're a' deid."
"Ay weel, we'll hae a whup at some o' the livin' anes," says Sandy.
"Gie me up some o' thae slides in the green box," he cries to Nathan.
"Whaur hae ye putten the Provosts an' the Bailies?"
"I have them a' in my breeks' pooch," says Nathan. "They're a' richt."
"An' whaur's the drunkard's liver?"
"O, I laid it on the boiler-heid, alang wi' Danyil an' some mair."
"See an' no' be mixin' them than," said Sandy, shovin' in another slide. "This, as you'll easily recognise, is Bailie Thingymabob."
The laddies gae the Bailie a roond o' applause, an' Bandy Wobster says, "Man, but he's awfu' indistink, Sandy. Ye can hardly mak' him oot."
"That's no' to be windered at," says Sandy. "I never fell in wi'
onybody that cud mak' him oot. Ye canna expeck a magic lantern to do what ye canna do yersel'. It'll be a bad job for the Bailie, I can tell you, when fowk begin to mak' him oot. The next picture is c.o.o.ncillor Spinaway."
"Ay, I'll go doon the yaird an' hae a reek," says Bandy, gettin up frae his seat, an' settin' a' the loons a-lauchin'.
"Ye needna gae awa' i' the noo," says Dauvid. "Wait till you see the rest o' the pictures."
"Dinna mistak' yersel'," says Bandy in laich, "when that cove's gotten on his feet he'll no' sit doon for half an 'oor. I never saw him get up yet but he gae a'body mair than their sairin' o' sooage, an'
main-drains, an' gas-warks, an' so on afore he feenisht. Wait till you see."
"Haud your haiverin' tongue," said Sandy. "Bliss your heart, he's in the magic lantern. He canna speak there."
"I daursay you're richt," says Bandy, clawin' his heid. "Weel, the Provost shud juist keep a magic lantern handy, an' gar him bide in't.
That wud keep him quiet at the meetin's."
"We'll lat ye see a picture o' the whole Toon c.o.o.ncil, noo," said Sandy; an' in cam' the picture. "There's been some mair mixin' again,"
said Sandy, gey kankered like. "That's shurely no' the Toon c.o.o.ncil.
What's number echteen, Nathan?"
"The pleg o' locusts in Egypt," says Nathan.
"Hoo's that gotten in there, ava?" says Sandy.
"O, they'd juist putten't amon' the ither plegs," brook in Bandy Wobster.
"Here's a very interestin' slide," says Sandy, as he put in the next picture. "This is a picture o' the deputation that waited on some o'
the members o' the Toon c.o.o.ncil at lest election an' priggit wi' them to bide in, altho' they were awfu' anxious to hae dune wi't."
"That's like a picture o' a bunghole withoot a barrel roond it," said ane o' Dauvid's laddies.
"There's naebody there, Sandy," said Bandy Wobster.
"Ay, but that's the deputation tho'," said Sandy. "They're mibby inveesible, but that's them for a' that. The name's on the picture.
You can look yersel', if you dinna believe me."
"Ay, Pepper's Ghost!" roars oot the Smith. "He waits on lots o' fowk aboot election times. He's juist a perf.e.c.k scunner, nominatin' fowk against their will, an' draggin' them into publicity when they wud far raither be kickin' up some ither kind o' a row."
He's an awfu' haiverin' body the Smith sometimes. When he's sensible, he's juist akinda ridic'lously sensible; an' when he's' no', he's juist as far the ither wey.
"Deputations is aye anonimous," says Sandy. "They aye turn up wi' a nomdy plum. It's juist the men's modesty that keeps them oot o' sicht.
They pey a' their veesits throo the nicht, an' fient a cratur kens eechie or ochie aboot them. Man, I like modesty. I've a great respeck for a deputation that keeps oot o' sicht."
"C'wa wi' some mair pictures," roared some o' the laddies, an' Sandy's grand perrygrinashin ended a' o' a sudden.
"The next picture is a very interestin' ane," said Sandy, efter he'd gotten a breath. "This is ane o' the famous meal mobs. You see the crood o' men, sae, they're a' roarin' thegither. There's neen o' you loons 'ill mind o' the meal mobs," said Sandy, "but I mind o' them fine. A gey toon it was i' thae days. You'll notice the auld Toon-Clark i' the middle there, wi' his hands up, threatenin' to send for the pileece, an' a' the crood yalpin' at him like as mony dogs. I can tell you loons, ye may thank your stars that you wasna born when wey-o'-doin's like that was carried on i' the toon. You dinna ken naethin' aboot it. There's been naethin' like it i' the toon o'
Arbroath sin'----"
"Hold on, Sandy," roared Nathan; "that's the wrang picture you have in again; here's the meal mob here. Look an' see what's on that ane."
"A Presbitree Meetin'!" read oot Sandy; an' you wudda thocht the Smith an' Bandy Wobster were genna ding doon the hoose wi' their noise an'
roarin' an' lauchin'.
"I thocht they were gey black-lookin' gentry for a meal mob," says the Smith; an' Bandy nodded his heid an' leuch, an' says, "Man, Sandy's a perf.e.c.k genius as fac's ocht, I hinna heard onything like him."
I hinna time to tell you aboot a' the rest o' the exhibition. It was a treat in mair weys than ane. Sandy lut's see a lot o' notables like Mester Gladstone, an' Blind Hewie, an' Steeple Jeck, an' the Prince o'
Wales, an' Burke an' Hair, an' the Jook o' Argile, an' Dykin Elshinder.
But the crooner o' them a' cam' when Sandy says--"Noo, here's Snakimupo, the famous king o' the Cannibal Islands, an' his favourite squaw, that eats missionaries, an' Bibles, an' p.o.o.pits whenever they can get a haud o' them"--an' in he shot--wha d'ye think? Juist Sandy an' me oorsels, life-size--ay, an' bigger!
"O, golly midgins!" says ane o' Dauvid's la.s.sies, wi' her hands up, an'
her moo an' her een wide open.
You never heard sic a riffin' as there was, the laddies a' roarin' "The King o' the Cannibal Islands," an' Sandy wirrin' like a perf.e.c.k terrier.