Cleg Kelly, Arab of the City: His Progress and Adventures

by S. R. Crockett

The second boy thought this over a moment—saw it—considered it rather good.

"Dod," he said, "I wad like to could say that mysel'. I can lick Samson mysel' as weel as Pate Tamson!"

Whereupon he went and lurked for Samson till that unfortunate youth came along. Then he triumphantly established his claim to be the strongest man by once more thrashing "Samson" Langpenny, while the tears of the first combat were hardly yet dry upon the cuff of the coat-sleeve which Master Langpenny ordinarily used instead of a pocket-handkerchief.

It was quite in accordance with the contrariness of things, that Samson Langpenny should develop into the superintendent of the roughest Sunday school in all the South Side of Edinburgh. He had now a real handkerchief, as every one might see, for he wore about equal parts of it within his pocket and without. The lower and unseen portion was the working end. Now, there may be excellent moral purpose in a judiciously-used pocket-handkerchief. There is, indeed, a certain literary man whose wife avers that her husband's toilet consists ordinarily of "four paper knives, four pens, and no pocket-handkerchief." But this person is not usually held up in Sunday schools as a shining example. Quite the contrary.

Now, Cleg Kelly had no great personal grievance against his superintendent. But he said in his vulgar way (for there is no doubt that he was that kind of boy) that "he did not cotton to that wipe o' Langpenny's!"

Cleg's present teacher was a young gentleman of the name of Percy Somerville, whose principal reasons for teaching in Hunker Court were that he might improve the minds of the youth of the district, and that he might have a fair chance of seeing Miss Cecilia Tennant home across the meadows. This last was a pleasant thing to do at any time, but specially desirable in the summer season, after the heat and turmoil of Hunker Court, and on this account Samson Langpenny never lacked for recruits to his teaching staff at that time.

Now, Percy Somerville was "a very nice boy"—these were Miss Tennant's own words. "But, you know—well, you know—after all, he is only a boy."

And, in addition, as they say in political circles, when the leadership of the party is in question, "there was no vacancy." The junior partner still lived.

How Percy Somerville undoubtedly had his troubles, owing chiefly to Celie Tennant's hardness of heart; but they were as nothing to the difficulties which afflicted Samson Langpenny.

For instance, it was in this wise that Mr. Percy Somerville was greeted, as he appeared with a reluctant scholar who had been detected in trying to escape by the side door after the roll had been marked. (It was drawing near the time of the summer treat into the country, so it behoved the teachers to be careful in marking attendances.)