Right Stuff

Ian Hay

Description

Though he comes from a humble Scottish family of farmers, Robert Fordyce has his ambitions set high. He lands a prominent political post in London and tries his hardest to blend in among the British upper crust. Gradually, Robert forms a tight bond with his boss' quirky but kind family, and that relationship helps put him at ease.

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 décembre 2016
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776674855
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE RIGHT STUFF
SOME EPISODES IN THE CAREER OF A NORTH BRITON
* * *
IAN HAY
 
*
The Right Stuff Some Episodes in the Career of a North Briton First published in 1908 Epub ISBN 978-1-77667-485-5 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77667-486-2 © 2014 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
*
BOOK ONE - RAW MATERIAL Chapter One - Oatmeal and the Shorter Catechism Chapter Two - Introduces a Pillar of State and the Appurtenances Thereof Chapter Three - "Anent" Chapter Four - A Trial Trip Chapter Five - Robin on Duty Chapter Six - Robin Off Duty Chapter Seven - A Dissolution of Partnership Chapter Eight - Of a Pit that was Digged, and Who Fell into It Chapter Nine - The Policy of the Closed Door Chapter Ten - Robin's Way of Doing It BOOK TWO - THE FINISHED ARTICLE Chapter Eleven - A Misfire Chapter Twelve - The Compleat Angler Chapter Thirteen - A Hostage to Fortune Chapter Fourteen - "To Die—Will Be an Awfully Big Adventure!" Chapter Fifteen - Two Battles Chapter Sixteen - "Qui Perd, Gagne" Chapter Seventeen - In Which All's Right with the World Chapter Eighteen - A Prophet in His Own Country
*
DR JOHNSON. Oatmeal, sir? The food of horses in England and of men inScotland!
BOSWELL ( roused at last ). And where, sir, will you find suchhorses—or such men?
TO
AN INDULGENT CRITIC
BOOK ONE - RAW MATERIAL
*
Chapter One - Oatmeal and the Shorter Catechism
*
The first and most-serious-but-one ordeal in the life of Robert ChalmersFordyce—so Robert Chalmers himself informed me years afterwards—wasthe examination for the Bursary which he gained at Edinburgh University.A bursary is what an English undergraduate would call a "Schol."(Imagine a Scottish student talking about a "Burse"!)
Robert Chalmers Fordyce arrived in Edinburgh pretty evenly dividedbetween helpless stupefaction at the sight of a great city and sterndetermination not to be imposed upon by the inhabitants thereof. Hisfears were not as deep-seated as those of Tom Pinch on a similaroccasion,—he, it will be remembered, suffered severe qualms from hisfamiliarity with certain rural traditions concerning the composition ofLondon pies,—but he was far from happy. He had never slept away fromhis native hillside before; he had never seen a town possessing morethan three thousand inhabitants; and he had only once travelled in atrain.
Moreover, he was proceeding to an inquisition which would decide onceand for all whether he was to go forth and conquer the world with auniversity education behind him, or go back to the plough and supporridge for the rest of his life. To-morrow he was to have hisopportunity, and the consideration of how that opportunity could best begripped and brought to the ground blinded Robin even to the wonders ofthe Forth Bridge.
He sat in the corner of the railway carriage, passing in review themeans of conquest at his disposal. His actual stock of scholarship, heknew, was well up to the required standard: he was as letter perfect inLatin, Greek, Mathematics, and Literature as hard study and remorselesscoaching could make him. Everything needful was in his head—but couldhe get it out again? That was the question. The roaring world in whichhe would find himself, the strange examination-room, the quizzingprofessors—would these combine with his native shyness to seal the lipsand cramp the pen of Robert Chalmers Fordyce? No—a thousand times no!He would win through! Robert set his teeth, braced himself, and kickedthe man opposite.
He apologised, attributing the discourtesy to the length of his legs—hestood about six feet three—and smiled so largely and benignantly, thatthe Man Opposite, who had intended to be thoroughly disagreeable, meltedat once, and said it was the fault of the Company for providing suchrestricted accommodation, and gave Robert The Scotsman to read.
Robert thanked him, and, effacing himself behind The Scotsman ,—though,for all the instruction or edification that his present frame of mindpermitted him to extract from that coping-stone of Scottish journalism,he might as well have been reading the Koran,—returned to his thoughts.He collated in his mind the pieces of advice which had been bestowedupon him by his elders and betters before his departure. In brief,their collective wisdom came to this:—
His father had bidden him—
(a) To address all professors with whom he might come in contact as "Sir";
(b) To arrive at the Examination each morning at least five minutes before the advertised time;
(c) To refrain from lending money to, or otherwise countenancing the advances of, persons of insinuating address who would doubtless accost him in the streets of Edinburgh.
The Dominie had said—
"When in doubt, mind that practically everything in an examinationgoverns the subjunctive.
"If there is a viva voce , be sure and speak up and give your answersas though you were sure of them. They may be wrong, but on the otherhand they may be right. Anyway, the one thing the examiners will notthole is a body that dithers.
"Take a last keek at that Proposition—they may call them Theorems,though—about the Square on the Hypotenuse. It hasn't been set for fouryears.
"If you are given a piece of Greek Testament to translate, for mercy'ssake do not be too glib. Dinna translate a thing until you are sure itis there. They have an unholy habit of leaving out a couple of versessome place in the middle, and you're just the one to tumble head-firstinto the lacuna . (I ken ye, Robbie!)
"And whatever ye do, just bear in mind it's your only chance, and grup on tae it! Post est occasio calva , laddie! And dinna disappoint anauld man that has taught ye all he kens himsel'!"
Much of his mother's advice was of a kind that could not be expressed soconcisely, but two salient items remained fixed in Robert's mind:—
"If ye canna think o' the richt word, pit up a bit prayer.
"For ony sake see that your collar is speckless a' the time."
Robert's first impressions of Edinburgh were disappointing. Thoughextensive enough, the city was not so great or so imposing as he hadexpected. It was entirely roofed with glass,—a provision which, thoughdoubtless advantageous in wet weather, militated against an adequatesupply of sunlight and fresh air. The shops, of which Robin had heard somuch, were few in number; and the goods displayed therein (mainly foodand drink, newspapers and tobacco) compared unfavourably in point ofvariety with those in the window of Malcolm M'Whiston, the "merchant" athome. The inhabitants all appeared to be in a desperate hurry, and thenoise of the trains, which blocked every thoroughfare, was deafening.Robert Chalmers was just beginning to feel thoroughly disappointed withthe Scottish capital, when it occurred to him to mount a flight ofstairs which presented itself to his view and gave promise of a secondstorey at least. When he reached the top he found he had judgedEdinburgh too hastily. There was some more of it.
His horizon thus suddenly enlarged, Robert Chalmers Fordyce began totake in his surroundings. He now found himself in a great street, withimposing buildings on one side and a green valley on the other. On thefar side of the valley the ground ran steeply upward to an eminencecrowded thickly with houses and topped by a mighty castle.
The street was alive with all sorts of absorbingly interesting traffic;but for the present Robert was chiefly concerned with the Cable Cars. Itwas upon one of these majestic vehicles, which moved down the streetunassisted by any apparent human or equine agency, that he had beenbidden to ride to his destination. He was not to take the first thatcame along, nor yet the second—they went to various places, it seemed;and if you were taken to the wrong one you had to pay just the same—butwas to scan them until he espied one marked "Gorgie." This would carryhim down the Dalry Road, and would ultimately pass the residence ofElspeth M'Kerrow, a decent widow woman, whose late husband's brother had"married on" a connection of Robert's mother. Here he was to lodge.
At first sight the cars appeared to be labelled with nothing but Cocoaand Whisky and Empire Palaces of Varieties Open Every Evening; but alittle perseverance discovered a narrow strip of valuable informationpainted along the side of each car. The first that caught our friend'seye was "Pilrig and Braid Hills Road." That would not do. Then cameanother—"Murrayfield, Haymarket, and Nether Liberton." Another blank!Then, "Marchmont Road and Churchill." Foiled again, Robert was beginningto feel a little sceptical as to the actual existence of the Dalry Road,when a car drew up opposite to him labelled "Pilrig and Gorgie." It wasgoing in the right direction too, for his father had warned him that hisdestination lay to the west of the town; and you can trust a Scotsman toknow the points of the compass with his eyes shut. (They even talk of aman sitting on the north or south side of his own fireplace.)
Robert clambered on to the top of this car, and presently found himselfconfronted by a gentleman—splendid in appearance but of homelyspeech—who waved bundles of tickets in his face, and inquired tersely—
"Penny or tippeny? or transfair?"
"I am seeking the Dalry Road," said Robert cautiously.
"Which end o't?"
"I couldna say."
"Ca' it a penny," said the conductor.
Robert, with the air of a man who has beaten down his opponent to thelowest possible figure, produced the coin from his pocket. (It was justas