In the meantime the previous history of the bone may be given. Some sixty years before, when a mill-dam was being enlarged at Inverichny, in the parish of Alvah, near Banff, one of the workmen came upon a dark-looking object embedded in the bank amongst clay and shingle, about six feet from the surface. After being disengaged, it was found that the object was very like a large hour-glass, though not tapering so much towards the middle. There were differences of opinion amongst the workmen about the nature of the thing. One said it was a “been,” another said it was “an auld fir knot.” One man tried to break it into pieces with a spade, but he failed. The hard bone turned up the edge of the spade. It was handed about, to ascertain if anybody could make anything of it. At last it got into the hands of Captain Reid of Inverichny. He showed it to the three most important persons in his neighbourhood—the minister, the doctor, and the dominie.
CONJECTURES ABOUT THE BONE.
The minister, though he could say nothing about the bone, knew that there were great leviathans in the waters, for he had read about them in the Scriptures; but he had never seen any notice of such things being found in clay banks. The doctor, after looking at it, and turning it round and round, said that if it was a bone, at least it did not belong to the human structure. The dominie, like his other learned friends, could throw no greater light upon the subject. He did not think it was a bone at all, but only a monstrous piece of petrified bamboo! Then the men of science of the Banff Institution were applied to, but they could make no more of the object than the minister, the doctor, and the dominie. Finally Captain Reid presented it to the museum of the Banff Scientific Society; and there it remained until Edward first saw it.
THE OLD BONE CONDEMNED.
It would appear, however, that the curator had become tired of the bone, or whatever else it was, and wished to get rid of it. He removed it from the case in which it was deposited, and threw it among the rubbish of the museum. When Edward was appointed sub-curator of the museum, about nine years afterwards, his first natural impulse was to go to the table where the bone had been deposited, but lo! it had been removed. He searched the whole place, but no bone was to be found. He feared lest the curator had carried out his intention, and burnt it.
Next morning, Edward received orders to destroy a lot of useless stuff which lay on the floor, consisting of broken-down astronomical and philosophical instruments, moth-eaten beasts, birds, and fishes, together with other wrecked specimens of the long-neglected museum. Edward went to work, and whilst groping amongst the rubbish at the bottom of the heap, he came upon a round dark object. He brought it up, and lo! it was the “auld been”—in other words, the old bone! It had not been burnt! He cleaned it and put it in the old place.
When the curator next made his appearance to ascertain how far the burning had gone, he gave a glance at the case where the bone had been replaced. He stood aghast. “You have put this thing on the table again!” he shouted. “Yes,” replied Edward. “Do you know,” rejoined the curator, “that by so doing you are insulting myself, and the gentlemen of the Society, who requested all objectionable matter to be removed from the collection?” “I am very sorry for that,” said Edward. “Then remove it at once, and burn it with the rest.” Edward removed it accordingly, but he did not burn it. He took it home, and kept it there until he was able to replace it in the museum.
THE “AULD BEEN.”
THE “AULD BEEN.”