Rab and His Friends and Other Papers. Brown John

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СКАЧАТЬ 'Confoond the cat, she's tumblt an e'e oot o' the bitch!' which indeed was the case. 'Tak awathe stanes frae the tapo' the cundy,' said Davidson, 'and we'll ha'e her worried at ance.' The stones were removed, and out leapt the cat in the middle of her enemies. Fortunately for her, however, it happened that a stone wall was continued up the side of the road, which she instantly mounted, and, running along the top thereof, with the dogs in full cry after her she speedily reached a plantation, and eluded all pursuit. No trace of her could be discovered; and the next time the shepherd called at Andrew Telfer's house, my lady was seated on the dresser, as demure as if nothing in her whole life had ever disturbed her tranquillity."

7

In The Dog, by Stonehenge, an excellent book, there is a woodcut of Puck, and "Dr. Wm. Brown's celebrated dog John Pym" is mentioned Their pedigrees are given – here is Puck's, which shows his "strain" is of the pure azure blood – "Got by John Pym, out of Tib; bred by Purves of Leaderfoot; sire. Old Dandie, the famous dog of old John Stoddart of Selkirk – dam Whin." How Homeric all this sounds! I cannot help quoting what follows – "Sometime a Dandie pup of a good strain may appear not to be game at an early age; but he should not be parted with on this account, because many of them do not show their courage till nearly two years old, and then nothing can beat them; this apparent softness arising, as I suspect, from kindness of heart" – a suspicion, my dear "Stonehenge," which is true and shows your own "kindness of heart," as well as sense.

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The same seeing eye and understanding mind, when they were eighteen years of age discovered and published the Solvent of Caoutchouc, for which patent was taken out afterwards by the famous Mackintosh. If the young discoverer had secured the patent, he might have made a fortune as large as his present reputation – I don't suppose he much regrets that he didn't.

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[ – As I am now, to my sorrow and shame, too much of a mediate Grecian, I give a Balliol friend's note on these two words: – "What you have called 'presence of mind' and 'happy guessing' may, I think, be identified respectively with Aristotle's [Greek] and evaroxia – The latter of these, [Greek], Aristotle mentions incidentally when treating of [Greek], or good deliberation. Eth. Nic. bk. vi. ch. 9. Good deliberation, he says, is not eûotoxîa, for the former is a slow process, whereas the latter is not guided by reason, and is rapid. In the same passage he tells us that [Greek] is a sort of [Greek]. But he speaks of [Greek] more fully in Ana. Post. 1. 34: – [Greek] is a sort of happy guessing at the intermediate, when there is not time for consideration: as when a man, seeing that the bright side of the moon is always turned towards the sun, comprehends that her light is borrowed from the sun; or concludes, from seeing one conversing with a capitalist that he wants to borrow money; or infers that people are friends from the fact of their having common enemies.' And then he goes on to make these simple observations confused and perplexing by reducing them to his logical formula. "The derivation of the words will confirm this view. Evoroxia is a hitting the mark successfully, a reaching to the end, the rapid, and, as it were, intuitive perception of the truth. This is what Whewell means by saying, 'all induction is a happy conjecture.' But when Aristotle says that this faculty is not guided by reason [Greek], he does not mean to imply that it grows up altogether independent of reason, any more than Whewell means to say that all the discoveries in the inductive sciences have been made by men taking 'shots' at them, as boys at school do at hard passages in their Latin lessons. On the contrary, no faculty is so absolutely the child of reason as this faculty of happy guessing. It only attains to perfection after the reason has been long and painfully trained in the sphere in which the guesses are to be made. What Aristotle does mean is, that when it has attained perfection, we are not conscious of the share which reason has in its operation – it is so rapid that by 110 analysis can we detect the presence of reason in its action. Sir Isaac Newton seeing the apple fall, and thence 'guessing' at the law of gravitation, is a good instance of evaroxia. "[Greek], on the other hand, is a nearness of mind; not a reaching to the end, but an apprehension of the best means; not a perception of the truth, but a perception of how the truth is to be supported. It is sometimes translated 'sagacity,' but readiness or presence of mind is better, as sagacity rather involves the idea of consideration. In matters purely intellectual it is ready wit. It is a sort of shorter or more limited eùcrroxîa. It is more of a natural gift than [Greek], because the latter is a far higher and nobler faculty, and therefore more dependent for its perfection 011 cultivation, as all our highest faculties are. [Greek] akin to genius, [Greek] to practical common sense." – ]

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A year ago, I found an elderly countrywoman, a widow, waiting for me. Rising up, she said, "D'ye mind me?" I looked at her, and could get nothing from her face; but the voice remained in my ear, as if coming from the "fields of sleep," and I said by a sort of instinct, "Tibbie Meek!" I had not seen her or heard her voice for more than forty years. She had come to get some medical advice. Voices are often like the smells of flowers and leaves, the tastes of wild fruits – they touch and awaken the memory in a strange way. "Tibbie" is now living at Thankerton.

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I have been told that once in the course of the sermon his voice trembled, and many feared he was about to break down.

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There is a story illustrative of this altered manner and matter of preaching. He had been preaching when very young, at Galashiels, and one wife said to her "neebor," "Jean, what think ye o' the lad?" "It's maist o't tinsel wark," said Jean, neither relishing nor appreciating his fine sentiments and figures. After my mother's death, he preached in the same place, and Jean, running to her friend, took the first word, "It's a' gowd noo."

13

On a low chest of drawers in this room there lay for many years my mother's parasol, by his orders – I daresay, for long, the only one in Biggar.

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His reading aloud of everything from John Gilpin to John Howe was a fine and high art, or rather gift. Henderson

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With the practices of this last worthy, when carried on moderately, and for the sport's sake, he had a special sympathy.

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I believe this was the true though secret source of much of my father's knowledge of the minute personal history of every one in his region, which – to his people, knowing his reserved manner and his devotion to his studies, and his so rarely meeting them or speaking to them, except from the pulpit, or at a diet of visitation – was a perpetual wonder, and of which he made great use in his dealings with his afflicted or erring members."

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He was curiously destitute of all literary ambition or show; like the cactus in the desert, always plump, always taking in the dew of heaven, and caring little to give it out. He wrote many papers in the Repository and Monitor, an acute and clever tract on the Voluntary controversy, entitled Calm Answers to Angry Questions, and was the author of a capital bit of literary banter – a Congratulatory Letter to the Minister of Liber-ton, who had come down upon my father in a pamphlet, for his sermon on "There remaineth much land to be possessed." It is a mixture of Swift and Arbuthnot. I remember one of the flowers he culls from him he is congratulating, in which my father is characterized as one of those "shallow, sallow souls that would swallow the bait "without perceiving the cloven foot!" But a man like this never is best in a book; he is always greater than his work.

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Well do I remember when driving him from Melrose to Kelso, long ago, we came near Sandyknowe, that grim tower of Smailholm, standing erect like a warrior turned to stone, defying time and change, his bursting into that noble ballad —

"The Baron of Smaylho'me rose with day,He spurr'd his courser on,Without stop or stay, down the rocky way,That leads to Brotherstone

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After a tight discussion between these two attached friends, Dr. Wardlaw said, "Well, I can't answer you, but fish I must and shall."

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He gave us all the education we got at Biggar.

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One day my mother, and her only sister, Agnes – married to James Aitken of Callands, a man before his class and his time, for long the only Whig and Seceder laird in Peeblesshire, and with whom my father shared the Edinburgh Review from its beginning – the two sisters who were, the one to the other, as Martha was to Mary, sat talking of their household doings; my aunt was great upon some things she could do; my father looked up from his book СКАЧАТЬ