Rough Scan
JEEMS AT CAIRO
BAILIE, this
last week has been fu’ o’ events—events o’ sich a stirring character
that I, a humble man, never expectit tae see while on earth.
First, I wis
introduced to Arabi, and found him a decent-looking black-adviced man,
wi’ a red nicht-cap and a black tassel.
My interview wi’ him wis short.
He couldna speak Scotch, and I couldna speak Italian or Greek,
or whatever it wis, so we jist sat an’ looked at one anither. Then tae break the silence I handed him my snuff-box, but he shook
his heid and said something I didna ken.
Says I, “D’ye no snuff, Arabi?” but he aye jist said “Nong!
nong!”
or something like that, so I put my box back in my pocket, and says
tae mysel’, “We’ll no come much speed at this rate,” and then I says
oot lood, “Weel, guid day tae ye, Arabi, better luck tae ye next time.” And I cam’ oot.
Then I went
tae see the entry o’ the Kidevee intae Cairo.
It wis a gran’ procession—elephants, camels, an’ dromedaries
wi’ black men riding on them. Man,
BAILIE, the procession at the unveiling o’ Burns’s statue wis naething
tae’t. At nicht there wis a gran’ banquet. I wis there, of course, and after they had
a’ made speeches, every one praising up his neebor, I wis asked tae
propose the Kidevee, and mak’ any miscellaneous remarks I thocht proper;
so I says— “Gentlemen, as I rise tae my feet and survey this brilliant
assemblage wi’ uniforms o’ red, white, and blue, and a’ colours o’ the
rainbow, and as I cast my eye roon and see a’ the cockit hats and swords
hinging up, the thocht naturally rises tae my lips, ‘What are we a’
here for?’ and following back the train o’ ideas my next natural thocht
is, ‘What were we a’ fechting far?’ and thirdly, ‘Noo that it’s a’ ower,
what are we tae dae next?’ Hooever, we’ll let thae fleas stick tae the wa’. As I’m on ma feet I may say that although it’s
as warm and genial here as they say, still I widna gie auld Scotland
wi’ a’ its frost an’ snow an’ its caul’ win — which mak’s us hardy —
for it a’. Some go intae great
rhapsodies aboot the Nile and its crocodiles!
I say, gie me the Clyde wi’ its partans!
Some talk o’ the mosques and the palaces wi’ the domes on the
tap. They may be a’ very gran’, but for me the Municipal
Buildings or the Fine Art Buildings are as gran’ buildings as I have
any wish tae see. Some talk
o’ the dhows they hae here, but they hae never seen the ‘Columba’ or
the ’Lord o’ the Isles,’ and tae a’ you English and Irish I wid say,
‘Come doon tae the Clyde, and ye’ll see scenery that canna be matched
for beauty or variety in the hale world.’
But I’m wandering, an’ therefore tae return.
Gentlemen, it’s a source o’ great thankfulness that everything
at the Review passed aff weel, an’ that our freen’ the Kidevee an’ a’
his wives were pleased; an’ that reminds me that frae what I hear the
Kidevee is aboot as bad as Brigham Young. I had nae idea thae black folk were allooed
tae hae mair than one wife, but I hear oor freen’ has mair than a
hunner. It must be on awfu’ hoosefu’ tae gang hame
tae at night, especially if he has tae sit doon an’ read the papers
tae them a’ — but maybe thae hae nae papers oot here, the black folk
‘ll no can print, I suppose. But
tak’ it as ye like, Kidevee, it must be an awfu’ haunfu’ for ye.
Whiles when there’s a rippet in oor hoose I think one wife is
ower mony, but wi’ mair than a hunner I pity ye.
Ye maun be thankfu’ tae rin intae the coal bunker, or ony place,
tae hide oot o’ the road. Tae
resume, hooever. Some say the
medical department broke doon. But
then something must break doon. There’s
so much red tape at big salaries in London that they must bungle something
jist tae let us see their power, and why no’ the medical department? But after a’ I expected it wid be worse than
it wis, for I thocht they micht dae as they did at the Crimean War,
send the men and horses tae one place and the food and fodder tae
anither. And noo, gentlemen, I’m aff the morn and I
hope ye’ll get things sorted up, and come back as quick as ye can, an’
be welcomed wi’ open airms by the hale country, and I hope every ane
o’ ye, frae the drummers tae the drill sergeants, ‘ll get a step up
the ladder o’ promotion. Gentlemen,
the toast is, ‘Egypt, the Kidevee, and a’ the Mistress Kidevees.’”
There wis great
cheering when I finished, and then a wheen mair spoke, but I had tae
come awa’ tae pack my carpet bag.
As I write this
the Clyde-built clipper ship “Duchess a’ Camlachie,” 150 A1 at Lloyd’s,
is getting on board her provisions, and the sailor bodies are hauling
up the anchor and singing “Ye ho! my lads! ye ho!” which, I suppose,
is some Egyptian sang they hae learned.
Then the bosun’s mate is standing at my cabin door trying tae
thread a needle tae sew a button on for me, and I’m writing this tae
get it posted tae ye at once.
My mission here
is ended, and although I havena got the acknowledgments I deserve frae
heidquarters, still I’m conscious o’ haein’ dune some little for my
country. It was as your special
correspondent, BAILIE, I cam’ here, and if you and your freens are satisfied
I’ll be delighted.
Haein’ a few
minutes tae spare, as it seems the anchor is fankled some way, I gie
ye an extract or twa frae a letter I got frae Betty yesterday; it will
show you hoo I was cheered when in a foreign land: -
“My dear
Jeems,—It’s
wi’ a heavy heart I lay doon my stocking, and tak’ up my pen tae write
ye a few lines. Ye maun never
go awa’ again—at least so faur—I widna care aboot ye going tae Millport
or the like o’ that, but Egypt! it seems as if ye micht as weel be at
the north pole, and the win’ howling roon the hoose at nichts and no
a mon in’t.
“Business is
improving. I suppose it’s because
the winter is coming on, an’ the laddie made twa bad debts last week. An‘ then the carter has tumml’t a cart o’ coals
on the tap o’ the new wheelbarrow and smash’t the leg aff. . . .
“When I was
ripeing Dauvat’s pockets the ither nicht after he went tae bed, I got
a new fardin pipe and a box a’ matches.
Ye’ll hae tae speak tae him aboot this when ye come back.
“The minister
wis up the ither day, and he was awfu’ angry at you for telling the
BAILIE aboot the toddy; hooever, I said that when ye cam’ back ye wid
propose raising his salary ten pounds, and that pleased him. . . .
“Mrs M’Farlane
next door has got a new bonnet wi’ gerianiums a’ hinging roon aboot
it. I must get one the same
whenever ye’re hame, for I think it wid become me.”
Ye see what
it is, BAILIE, to hae a loving wife at hame.