From Ploughshare to Pulpit by Gordon Stables

As soon after four o'clock as possible, it had been announced, the result of the competition would be made to the students from one of the windows near to the Senatus-room and overlooking the quad. So even before that time Sandie, with his friend Willie, had joined the crowd beneath the window. And a right jovial and merry crowd it was, to all outward appearance; and yet there were amongst those roystering lads many whose hearts were like Sandie's, going pit-a-pat, and of a verity, almost sick with anxiety.

Many poor students there were from the far Highlands of Inverness, whose future careers, if not indeed their very lives, depended upon their success in this competition, and who, if unsuccessful, would have to go back to the misery of their smoky Highland homes and hard work, to be the butt of many a senseless joke and the laughing-stock of the parish, that would tell them to their faces that pride goeth before a fall and haughtiness before destruction.

Four o'clock passed, half-past four, and five -- oh, so wearily away -- and still the window was not opened.

But behold, a few minutes after that, the form of the old Sacrist in his dusty gown, holding a paper and a lamp, can be dimly descried behind the window.

Hushed is every voice now, upturned each eager face. So great is the silence, I might almost say one could hear the snowflakes fall.

"Ahem! ahem!"

The Sacrist cleared his throat by way of creating a greater impression.

"Ahem! First Bursar, Peter -- no, Alexander Mac -- Mac -- Mac -- Oh, I see. First Bursar Alexander M‘Crae. Is Sandie there? Come up, young sir, into the Senatus-room."

And as Sandie, head down, and walking apparently on the air, goes hurrying away for the stair-door, the Sacrist continues leisurely to read out the list until the close, and as one student comes back from the Senatus, the next in turn is asked to go up.

Sandie was terribly but delightfully bewildered. He soon found himself in the Senatus-room, though how he had gotten there he never could be rightly sure. He found the professors all standing, all arrayed in their gowns, and each one shook him by the hand. They even praised the elegance of the diction he had written, congratulated him on his wonderful success, and hoped he would live to become an honour and glory to the grand old Marischal College and University.

Sandie thanked them, blushing beet-red as he retired.

He would fain have got away home quietly now to write to his dear mother.

But this was not to be.

He was received by such shouting and cheering as he had never heard before, while every student in the quad crowded round to shake him by the hand. No spite, no chaff, no jealousy, only friendship unalloyed, and downright pride in the ploughman-student with his short frayed breeks, his brogues, and his stockings of blue.

Their enthusiasm ended by bringing tears to Sandie's eyes. He had meant to make a speech, but he never got farther than --

"Gentlemen, I thank you all. I -- I -- I -- No, it is impossible -- I can't speak -- -- "

"Hurrah! " cried one of the students. He it was who had gained the third bursary. "Hoist, lads, hoist! I must go to the Senatus-room."

And before Sandie could move a step, he was hoisted shoulder-high, and borne twice round the quad, his followers singing in voices loud and shrill --

"For he's a jolly good fellow, / For he's a jolly good fellow, / For he's a jolly good fe -- a -- low / Which nobody can deny."

The usual chorus of hip, hips, and Sandie was glad when at last, with his friend Willie, he found himself outside the gates and able to breathe more freely.