By the bend of the stream stood the house of old Ledgie Cooper, a worthy man, who about a hundred years ago here kept a school. Ledgie was one of the cottage patriarchs who was an honour to the Crawick. We well remember of seeing a very aged man, one of the little lairds of Crawick, who, when a boy, was one of Ledgie's scholars, and who used to relate some curious anecdotes of him. One was that the adversary attempted to prevent him from praying in the dark by pulling forcibly by his coat behind. This anecdote he one day related in the school when speaking to the children on the necessity of persevering in it; but they, not rightly apprehending the thing, and supposing that the enemy was at that moment standing at the back of their venerable teacher, rushed all and every one out of the school in the utmost trepidation, and would not return till they were persuaded by the old Laird of Orchard to accompany him back, when composure was restored, and the work of the school went on as usual.—

'Voice from the Desert,' by the late Dr Simpson of Sanquhar

Auld Ledgie Cooper cam' into the schule,
But his face was wae to see;
A sad, sad look was upon his broo,
An' a sad look in his e'e.
He sat for a moment deep, deep in thocht,
Wi' his broo on the airm o' the chair;
Then he gaed to the door to cry in the weans
That were rinnin' here an' there.
They heard his voice at the dookin' pool,
Away doon the howms o' Craw'ck,
They ran thro' the fiel's wi' their breeks i' their han',
An' their sarks half ow'r their back.
They heard his voice in the Knockinhair Wood,
They lookit roun' an' roun'—
'Is the schule in already?' they ask'd, an' flung
The bluidy fingers doon.
They heard it up in the Orchard burn
As far as the deil's big stane;
They left tryin' to rub oot the pedlar's bluid,
An' cam' in ane by ane.
But as sune as they saw the dominie's broo,
Their hearts laup wi' sudden dreid,
An' ilk ane slippit away to his seat,
An' never lifted his heid.
Then Ledgie rase up wi' a wild fear'd look,
To say the mornin' pray'r;
But first he lookit up to the roof,
An' then in below his chair.
An' aye as he pray'd that God micht keep
Himsel' an' the weans frae sin,
He jamp, as ane micht at the stang o' a bee,
An' lookit roun' ahin'.
O, weel micht the scholars glow'r, an' weel
Micht they look in ilk ither's face,
As if something uncanny was in the schule,
Or was hingin' aboot the place.
But when Ledgie Cooper had finish'd the pray'r,
An' afore he turn'd to sit doon,
He dichted the sweat aff his broo, an' cried
At his scholars to gather roun'.
Ye scarce heard their feet as they cam' frae their seats,
Sic a fear was on them a';
But, when Ledgie sigh'd an' began to speak,
They scarce their breaths could draw.
'O, bairns, O, bairns,' auld Ledgie began,
'I got a fricht yestreen,
That made my heart loup up to my mouth,
An' my hair stan' up like a preen.
Yestreen, as ye ken, was the Sabbath nicht,
An' aye on that holy day
I read the Bible until it grows dark,
An' then I kneel an' pray.
But my heart, last nicht, was an unco weicht,
An' sairly bother'd wi' doot;
An' what gude cam' into my min' to say,
My lips wadna let it oot.
For the deil himsel' cam' into my room,
An' stood ahint my back;
An' a wauf o' his breath like a brimstone lowe
Made my very han's grow black.
But I tried to pray as ane micht dae,
Whase moments number'd be,
But he pu'd my coat tails, cryin', 'Ledgie, man,
Pit in a word for me.'
Then I faun' his club fit stot against my ain,
His han' slip alang my arm;
An' his touch was like to a reid-hot airn,
For the place at ance grew warm.
Then I got a glint o' ane o' his horns
Ow'r my shuider at the richt;
But I steekit my een, an' I hung my heid,
To keep awa' that sicht.
An' I tried to pray, but nae word could I say,
My tongue was as dry as could be,
For the deil was aye cryin', 'O, Ledgie, man,
Will ye no speak a word for me?'
Then I faun' his tail creepin' roun' my waist,
Wi' mony a twist an' turn,
An' I kent that his face was near to my ain,
For my hair began to burn.
But I claspit my han's on my broo an' my een,
As ye see me daein' the noo,
An' I tried to pray, till my throat grew dry,
An' the sweat fell aff my broo.
But juist when the ane who hates us a'
Began to pu' me away,
Like a sweet spring-well cam' the words to my mouth,
An' I faun' that I could pray.
I pray'd fu' lood an' I pray'd fu' lang,
Till I faun that I was free;
But, alake! dear weans, the fricht last nicht
Has left queer thochts wi' me.'
But what was Ledgie Cooper's surprise
When he open'd up his een,
To see toom binks an' an open door,
An' nae schule weans to be seen?
For ilka ane at his frichtfu' tale
Had saftly slippit away,
An' were rinnin' aboot like scatter'd sheep
On the tap o' Carco brae.
Then, what wark had the laird o' Orchardburn
An' Ledgie coaxin' them in;
But afore they could manage to catch them a'
They had mony a weary rin.
Then Ledgie rase up when the door was shut,
An' said, 'O weans, what a fule
Was your maister to tell ye his fricht yestreen,
That has made ye rin frae the schule.
But I only tauld it to teach you this,
When ye a' grow up into prime,
That a body can stan' unco near the deil,
If he's praying at the time.'