A Boyhood in Scotland 



we all dreaded them. My sister Sarah, the 

 next older than me, wanted the long-legged 

 stool I was sitting on awaiting my turn, so she 

 just tipped me off. My chin struck on the edge 

 of the bath-tub, and, as I was talking at the 

 time, my tongue happened to be in the way of 

 my teeth when they were closed by the blow, 

 and a deep gash was cut on the side of it, which 

 bled profusely. Mother came running at the 

 noise I made, wrapped me up, put me in the 

 servant girl's arms and told her to run with me 

 through the garden and out by a back way to 

 Peter Lawson to have something done to stop 

 the bleeding. He simply pushed a wad of cotton 

 into my mouth after soaking it in some brown 

 astringent stuff, and told me to be sure to keep 

 my mouth shut and all would soon be well. 

 Mother put me to bed, calmed my fears, and 

 told me to lie still and sleep like a gude bairn. 

 But just as I was dropping off to sleep I swal- 

 lowed the bulky wad of medicated cotton and 

 with it, as I imagined, my tongue also. My 

 screams over so great a loss brought mother, 



