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       George MacDonald

      Ranald Bannerman's Boyhood

      (Illustrated Edition)

      The Adventures in Scottish Highlands (Autobiographical Novel)

      Published by

      Books

      - Advanced Digital Solutions & High-Quality eBook Formatting -

       [email protected]

      2017 OK Publishing

      ISBN 978-80-7583-787-5

      Table of Contents

       CHAPTER I. Introductory

       CHAPTER II. The Glimmer of Twilight

       CHAPTER III. My Father

       CHAPTER IV. Kirsty

       CHAPTER V. I Begin Life

       CHAPTER VI. No Father

       CHAPTER VII. Mrs. Mitchell is Defeated

       CHAPTER VIII. A New Schoolmistress

       CHAPTER IX. We Learn Other Things

       CHAPTER X. Sir Worm Wymble

       CHAPTER XI. The Kelpie

       CHAPTER XII. Another Kelpie

       CHAPTER XIII. Wandering Willie

       CHAPTER XIV. Elsie Duff

       CHAPTER XV. A New Companion

       CHAPTER XVI. I Go Down Hill

       CHAPTER XVII. The Trouble Grows

       CHAPTER XVIII. Light out of Darkness

       CHAPTER XIX. Forgiveness

       CHAPTER XX. I Have a Fall and a Dream

       CHAPTER XXI. The Bees' Nest

       CHAPTER XXII. Vain Intercession

       CHAPTER XXIII. Knight-Errantry

       CHAPTER XXIV. Failure

       CHAPTER XXV. Turkey Plots

       CHAPTER XXVI. Old John Jamieson

       CHAPTER XXVII. Turkey's Trick

       CHAPTER XXVIII. I Scheme Too

       CHAPTER XXIX. A Double Exposure

       CHAPTER XXX. Tribulation

       CHAPTER XXXI. A Winter's Ride

       CHAPTER XXXII. The Peat-Stack

       CHAPTER XXXIII. A Solitary Chapter

       CHAPTER XXXIV. An Evening Visit

       CHAPTER XXXV. A Break in my Story

       CHAPTER XXXVI. I Learn that I am not a Man

      CHAPTER I

       Introductory

       Table of Contents

      I do not intend to carry my story one month beyond the hour when I saw that my boyhood was gone and my youth arrived; a period determined to some by the first tail-coat, to me by a different sign. My reason for wishing to tell this first portion of my history is, that when I look back upon it, it seems to me not only so pleasant, but so full of meaning, that, if I can only tell it right, it must prove rather pleasant and not quite unmeaning to those who will read it. It will prove a very poor story to such as care only for stirring adventures, and like them all the better for a pretty strong infusion of the impossible; but those to whom their own history is interesting—to whom, young as they may be, it is a pleasant thing to be in the world—will not, I think, find the experience of a boy born in a very different position from that of most of them, yet as much a boy as any of them, wearisome because ordinary.

      If I did not mention that I, Ranald Bannerman, am a Scotchman, I should be found out before long by the kind of thing I have to tell; for although England and Scotland are in all essentials one, there are such differences between them that one could tell at once, on opening his eyes, if he had been carried out of the one into the other during the night. I do not mean he might not be puzzled, but except there was an intention to puzzle him by a skilful selection of place, the very air, the very colours would tell him; or if he kept his eyes shut, his ears would tell him without his eyes. But I will not offend fastidious ears with any syllable of my rougher tongue. I will tell my story in English, and neither part of the country will like it the worse for that.

      I will clear the way for it by mentioning that my father was the clergyman of a country parish in the north of Scotland—a humble position, involving plain living and plain ways altogether. There was a glebe or church-farm attached to the manse or clergyman's house, and my

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