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Updated: June 1, 2025
"But do you really think that he reasoned it all out on the spur of the moment?" "Oh, reasoned; probably not. It's instinctive, I tell you. And the twenty to the professional was a touch of genius. Tamson will never stop talking about it. Can't you hear him, telling it to his fellow pros? 'Golf's too easy for me, he says, 'and hands me a double sawbuck!
But Mysie could not be drawn to look at his rosy prospects, and still kept silent, so that the last few hundred yards were covered in silence. At the end of the row where they always parted, he could not resist adding a thrust to his usual "good-night." "Guid nicht then, Mysie. I thocht may be ye'd be vexed, seem' that Dickie Tamson can torment you as muckle as he likes now."
"I wouldn't risk settin' on that plaguy, slippery haircloth thing again for no mortal soul," declared the irate Tamson, meaning, doubtless, to include immortals. A chair was provided, again the lights were dimmed, and the seance resumed, punctuated now at minute intervals by the shattering bellows of the great foghorn. In a few minutes the messages began to arrive.
Gray, whose character was that of a good-natured simpleton; "Here's Peg Tamson, Jean Simson, and Alison Jaup, running a race on the hie street of the burgh!" He had just reached the door as Luckie Simson, one of the racers, arrived in the little area before it.
Down in the village Ras Beebe began his twice-a-year window dressing, removing the caps, candy, sweaters, oil heaters, patent medicines and mittens to substitute bathing suits, candy, straw hats, toy shovels, patent medicines and caps. Small boys began barefoot experiments. Miss Tamson Black departed for Nantucket to visit a cousin. Mr.
Obed Taylor, driver of the Trumet bake-cart, and a devout believer, had been drawn from his home village; Miss Tamson Black, her New Hampshire visit over, was seated in the front row; Erastus Beebe accompanied his sister Ophelia. The Hardings, Abel and Sarah B., were present and accounted for, and so, too, was Mrs. Hannah Peters.
I'll sune have her ready noo." Poor Tamson! But these are the exceptions. Scotsmen, more than other men perhaps, have the three great essentials of commercial success imagination to conceive schemes, common sense to correct them, and energy to push them through.
"Namee seem likee likee Flora Flora somethin'," announced the control. The circle rustled in anticipation while Tamson ransacked her memory. "Flora?" she repeated. "Flora?" "Yes yes. Flora ah ah somethin'. Somethin' soundee likee somethin' you ring." "Somethin' I RING. Why, all a body rings is a bell. Hey? My heavens above, you don't mean Florabel? That ain't the name, is it Florabel?"
In forty-eight hours I woke up in Stobe Hill Infirmary and the nurse was saying in my ear: 'Ye're all richt the noon, Tamson. We ha' only just amputated your leg! "So I think I ha' been to the war, but I can only say I think so. I only know what I was told that ha' never seen a damn German yet!" That is a true story of Tamson the baker.
One examination day the minister attended to open the inspection with prayer. Just as he was finishing, a scholar entered who had a reputation for dirt. "Michty!" cried a little pupil, as his opening eyes fell on the apparition at the door, "there's Jocky Tamson wi' his face washed!" When the dominie was a younger man he had first clashed with the minister during Mr.
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