LIFE OF A SCOTCH NATURALIST
[Illustration: Handwritten: Thomas Edward]
LIFE OF A SCOTCH NATURALIST
THOMAS EDWARD ASSOCIATE OF THE LINNEAN SOCIETY
BY SAMUEL SMILES
AUTHOR OF ‘LIVES OF THE ENGINEERS,‘ ‘SELF-HELP,’ ‘CHARACTER,’
‘THRIFT,’ ETC.
PORTRAIT AND ILLUSTRATIONS BY GEORGE REID, R.S.A.
Fourth Edition
LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET
1877
_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh._
PREFACE.
THE history of the humblest human life is a tale of marvels. Dr.
Johnson said that there was not a man in the street whose biography
might not be made interesting, provided he could narrate something of
his experiences of life, his trials, his difficulties, his successes,
and his failures.
I use these words as an introduction to the following biography of my
“man in the street.” Yet Thomas Edward is not an ordinary man. Eighteen
years since, I mentioned him in _Self-Help_, as one of the most
extraordinary instances of perseverance in the cause of science that
had ever come under my notice.
Nor was he a man of any exalted position in society. He was a
shoemaker then; he is a shoemaker still. For nearly thirty years he
has fought the battle of scientific poverty. He was one of those men
who lived _for_ science, not _by_ science. His shyness prevented him
pushing himself forward; and when he had done his work, he was almost
forgotten.
How he pursued his love of Nature,—how he satisfied his thirst for
knowledge, in the midst of trials, difficulties, and troubles,—not the
least of which was that of domestic poverty,—will be found related
in the following book. Indeed, it may be said of him, that he has
endured as much hardship for the cause of science, as soldiers do in a
prolonged campaign. He spent most of his nights out of doors, amidst
damp, and wet, and cold. Men thought him mad for enduring such risks.
He himself says, “I have been a fool to Nature all my life.”
He always lamented his want of books. He had to send his “findings” to
other naturalists to be named, and he often lost them. But books could
not be had without money; and money was as scarce with him as books.
He was thus prevented from taking rank among higher-class naturalists.
He could only work in detail; he could not generalise. He had to be
satisfied with the consolation that Mr. J. Gwyn Jeffreys once gave him.
“Working naturalists like yourself,” said he, “do quite as much good
service in the cause of science as those who study books.” Edward,
however, doubted this; for he considered works on natural science to
be a great help to the working naturalist. They informed him of what
others had done, and also of what remained to be done.
Those who would know something of what Edward has accomplished in only
_one_ department of his favourite subject, should consult Messrs.
Bate and Westwood’s _History of the British Sessile-eyed Crustacea_,
where his services to the cause of science are fully and generously
acknowledged. Of the numerous Crustacea mentioned in that work, Edward
collected a hundred and seventy-seven in the Moray Firth, of which
twenty were New Species.
In 1866, Edward was elected an Associate of the Linnean Society,—one
of the highest honours that science could confer upon him. Since
then, however, he has been able to do comparatively little for the
advancement of his favourite study. He had been so battered about by
falling from rocks in search of birds, and so rheumatised by the damp,
wet, and cold, to which he was exposed at night,—for he was obliged to
carry on his investigations after his day’s work was over,—that he was
unable to continue his investigations in Natural History.
In the Appendix will be found a Selection of the Fauna of Banffshire,
prepared by Edward. I have been able to find room for only the Mammals,
Birds, Fishes, and Crustacea. I wish it had been possible to give the
Star-fishes (_Rayed Echinodermata_), Molluscs, Zoophytes, and other
objects; but this would have filled up the book, and left no room for
the Biography.
It was not my intention to have published the book in the ornate
form in which it now appears. But my friend Mr. Reid,—being greatly
interested in the man and his story,—and having volunteered to
illustrate the work “for love,” I could not withstand his generous
offer. Hence the very fine portrait of Edward, so exquisitely etched by
Rajon; and the excellent wood engravings of Whymper and Cooper, which
illustrate the volume.
It is scarcely necessary to say that the materials of the book have
been obtained from Edward himself, either by written communication or
by “word of mouth.” Much of it is autobiography. Edward was alarmed at
the idea of what he communicated being “put into a book.” He thought
it might do me an injury. “Not a copy,” he said, “would be bought in
Banff.”
However this may be, the writing of the Biography has given me much
pleasure. It has led me to seek health amidst the invigorating breezes
of the North; and to travel round the rugged shores of Aberdeen and
Banff, in search of the views of bays and headlands with which Mr. Reid
has so beautifully embellished the book.
It may be objected—“Why write the life of a man who is still living?”
To this it may be answered, that Edward has lived his life and done his
work. With most of us, “_Hic jacet_” is all that remains to be added.
If the book had not been written now, it is probable that it never
would have been written. But it may be asked,—“Is the life really worth
writing?” To this question the public alone can give the answer.
LONDON, _Nov. 1876._
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
EARLY YEARS.
Edward born at Gosport, Portsmouth—The Fifeshire
Militia—Return to Cupar—Residence at Kettle—Settles at
Aberdeen—The Green—How Edward became a Naturalist—The
sow Bet—Stolen by Gipsies—The Inches, Aberdeen—Fondness
for “Beasts”—An incorrigible boy—Imprisoned at
home—Sets the house on fire—Is laid up by fever—His
Recovery—Birds’ Nests—Rubislaw Quarries—The Wasp’s
Nest Pages 1-20
CHAPTER II.
SCHOOLS AND SCHOOLMASTERS.
Edward goes to school—Plays the Truant—The
fishwives—Bell Hill—Grannie’s Plunge—A Kae taken to
school—Edward’s expulsion—Sent to his second school—The
Horse-leeches—Edward expelled—The third school—The
Sparrow’s nest harried—Takes the nest to school—The
birds “chirrup”—The Master bit by a Centipede—Edward
thrashed terribly—Expelled from his third school—A
night under the logs—Results of his punishment—Hunt
after an adder—The adder sold 21-46
CHAPTER III.
APPRENTICESHIP.
Goes to work—A Tobacco-spinner—Factory at
Grandholm—The Banks and Braes of the Don—The Brig
o’ Balgownie—Spires of St. Machar—Working at the
factory—The Sedge-warbler—The Kingfisher—Country
rambles—Apprenticed to a Shoemaker—Charles
Begg—Shoemakers’ pets—Begg’s brutality—Edward’s pets
killed—Wishes to be a sailor—Tries in vain 47-60
CHAPTER IV.
RUNS AWAY FROM HOME.
Sets out for the Kettle—His provisions—His
money—Tries to sell his knife—Ruins of Dunnottar
Castle—Bervie—Encounter with tramps—Montrose—Sells
his knife—Sleeps in a haycock—Arbroath—The sailors’
wives—Dundee—The Long-tailed Titmouse—Cupar—Reaches
the Kettle—Reception by his uncle—Sets out for
home—Uncivility of a gamekeeper—Adventure with a
Bull—Rests near Stonehaven—Reaches Aberdeen—His
reception at home 61-74
CHAPTER V.
RESUMES WORK.
Offers himself as a sailor—Resumes shoemaking—Wild
Botanical Garden—Tanners’ pits for puddocks—The
picture shops—The _Penny Magazine_—Castlegate on
Fridays—Gunmakers’ windows—Tries to emigrate to
America as a stowaway—He fails—Joins the Aberdeenshire
Militia—Chase of a butterfly—Is apprehended—Is
reprimanded and liberated—Enlists in the 60th
Rifles—Assists as a pew-opener—Leaves Aberdeen for
Banff 75-86
CHAPTER VI.
SETTLES AT BANFF.
His employment—Finds time to follow his bent—His
Caterpillars among the workmen—His landlady—Marries a
Huntly lass—Settled for life—Self-education in Natural
History—Stuffs birds—His want of education—Want of
books—Shy and friendless—Avoids the public-house—His
love of Nature—The ocean—The heavens—Makes
a collection—His gun and paraphernalia—His
equipment—Sleeps out of doors at night—Exaggerated
rumours about him—Frequents Boyndie churchyard—Lies in
holes during rain—Disagreeable visitors—Awful night
in Boyndie churchyard—Moth-hunting at night—Terrible
encounter with Badgers 87-103
CHAPTER VII.
NIGHT WANDERERS.
Animals wandering at night—Their noises and cries—The
Roe-deer and hare—The Rabbit—A Rabbit fight—The
Fox—The Badger—The Field Mice—The Weasel—Attack by a
Weasel—Pertinacious Rats—The Otter—The Polecat—Boyne
Castle—Fight with a Polecat—The Long-eared Owl—The
Brown Owl—A chorus of Frogs—Birds of prey—Landrail,
Sedge-warbler, Rook—Songsters at night 104-128
CHAPTER VIII.
FORMS A NATURAL HISTORY COLLECTION.
Situation of Banff—Macduff—Cliffs of
Banffshire—Gamrie—The fishing-boats—Gardenstown—The
fishermen—Crovie—Hell’s Lum—Troup Head—Pennan—The
dens of North Aberdeenshire—Aberdour—Church of
Aberdour—Inland county of Banff—Ben Macdhui—Edward’s
rounds—Pursuit of two Geese—Pursuit of a little
Stint—Shoemaking—Edward’s traps—His collection
of insects—Collection destroyed—Loss of dried
plants—Exhibits his collection at Banff 129-152
CHAPTER IX.
EXHIBITS HIS COLLECTION AT ABERDEEN.
Aberdeen his city of expectations—Dramatic
bird-stuffing—Collection taken to Aberdeen in six
carriers’ carts—Exhibited in Union Street—The
handbills—Appeal to the people—The expected
rush—General visitors—Professional visitors—An
interrogator—Edward disbelieved—“The thing
impossible”—Edward’s vindication—Invites his mill
mates—Temperance and drunkenness—Edward a mystery—A
lady visitor—Appeals to “The Millions”—The exhibition
a failure—Edward in despair—The beach—The flock of
Sanderlings—The Providential Bird—The collection
sold—Departure from Aberdeen 153-180
CHAPTER X.
RESUMES HIS FORMER LIFE AND HABITS.
Re-enters his desolate dwelling—Return of his
family—Begins again—Redoubles his zeal—His
paraphernalia—Ramble in the Balloch Hills—A
successful search—A furious storm comes on—Crossing
the moor—A haven—The chip-boxes destroyed—A terrible
woman—His hat and insect boxes—How to preserve—A
referee—Edward’s certificate from the Justices—Love of
birdnesting—Accident at Tarlair—Falls from a cliff, and
is rescued—Draws on his Savings Bank 181-202
CHAPTER XI.
BEGINS TO PUBLISH HIS OBSERVATIONS.
The Rev. Mr. Smith—The Bridled Guillemot—Grammar—Scraps
from the newspapers—The Death’s-head Moth—Butterflies
and locusts—_Locusta migratoria_—Saw-flies—The
Spider—Notes in Natural History—Rare birds—The
Bee-eater—The Bohemian Waxwing—The Brown Snipe-Edward’s
pursuit—The Snipe escapes—Adventure on Gamrie
Head—The Fox’s lair—The precipice—The Peregrine
Falcon-Feeds upon its prey—Flight of the Falcon—Slides
down the rocks—Discovers a Spinous Shark—Returns
home 203-229
CHAPTER XII.
RAMBLES AMONGST BIRDS.
Mr. Smith’s articles published in the
_Zoologist_—Edward’s power of observation described—The
beautiful Heron—Cries of the Birds at Ness Bogie—The
motherly Wild Duck—Burial of the Wild Duck—The
Pickietars—The Pickietar fishing—The Pickietar
shot—Rescued by his friends—Edward’s closeness
of observation—The Turnstone—Its description—Its
labours—The Turnstones turn over a Cod—The little
Auk—Sea-fowl nurseries—Pennan—Sleeps in Hell’s Lum—The
sea-birds at night 230-251
CHAPTER XIII.
LITERATURE AND CORRESPONDENCE.
Death of the Rev. Mr. Smith—Mr. Smith’s
helpfulness—Observation of the Partridge—The Rev.
Alexander Boyd—Loch of Strathbeg—The Waterfowl
at Strathbeg—Swans—Geese—Ducks—Winter and summer
birds—The Ring Dotterel—A pursuit—Mr. Boyd’s
article—Encouragement of native talent and genius—Death
of Mr. Boyd—Publication of ‘Birds of Strathbeg’ in
_Naturalist_—Mr. C. W. Peach—Writes articles for the
_Zoologist_—Finches—Crows and Crab-shells—The Heron
and the Crows—A fight in the air—Crows, Hares, and
Rabbits—Cold and Whisky—Edward’s health fails—Again
draws on his Savings Bank 252-278
CHAPTER XIV.
BY THE SEA-SHORE.
Marine objects on the shores of Banffshire—Edward’s
sea-traps—Captures a rare fish, Bloch’s Gurnard—The
incoming wave—Big fish the best dredgers—Helped by
the fishermen—Helped by his daughters—The Cod’s
bill of fare—Haddocks—Advice to the fishermen—The
fishers of Macduff—The Blue-striped Wrasse—The
Saury Pike—Yarrell’s Blenny—Black Goby—Equoreal
Needle-fish—Edward’s self-education—How he got
his fishes named—“Give him books!”—Edward’s
enthusiasm 279-296
CHAPTER XV.
DISCOVERIES AMONG THE CRUSTACEA.
Mr. Bate of Plymouth—His work on Crustacea—_Praniza
Edwardii_—The Anceus—Edward’s letter to Mr.
Bate—Entomostraca—Parasites from short Sun-fish—Present
of a Microscope—A possible Sub-curatorship—Edward
disappointed—Freemasonry among naturalists—Rev.
A. M. Norman—Fish parasites—_Mysis spinifera_—New
species discovered—_Vibilia borealis_—Observation of
_Eurydice pulchra_—Edward’s difficulties—Nest building
crustacea—New Shrimps and Parasites—The Zoologists in
ecstasies—The “_Sessile-eyed Crustacea_” published—Mr.
Bate’s eulogiums on Edward’s discoveries—New Crustacea
found by Edward in the Moray Firth 297-323
CHAPTER XVI.
DISCOVERIES AMONGST ZOOPHYTES, MOLLUSCS, AND FISHES.
Edward brings home Zoophytes to observe—The Star-fish—The
Brittle Stars—A six legged Starfish—Rosy-feather
Star—The great Sea-cucumber—Dead Man’s Paps—The
Ascidians—Want of observers—New Ascidian sent to Mr.
Alder—Drummond’s Echiodon—Mr. Couch of Polperro—The
Wrasses—A jumping Wrasse—A new Midge—_Couchia
Thompsoni_—Colonel Montague—Montague’s Midge—Midges in
Moray Firth—Edward’s Midge (_Couchia Edwardii_)—Other
new fishes—Difficulties with the Museum—Edward elected
Associate of the Linnean Society—Other societies elect
him member—The “prophet without honour in his own
country” 324-349
CHAPTER XVII.
ANTIQUITIES—KITCHEN-MIDDENS.
Edward’s illness—Studies galvanism—Curator of Banff
Museum—Practises Photography—Antiquities of Banff—The
old Town Cross—The Drinking Fountain—The Kjökken
Mödding at Boyndie—Early population, Lapps or
Fins—Shelly-bush—Investigates the shell mounds at
Boyndie—Loch of Spynie—Contents of the shell-mounds—The
Stone period—The Old Bone—Conjectures about it—The
old bone condemned—Sir Roderick Murchison—The bone,
part of the _Plesiosaurus dolichodeiras_—Banff
Museum 350-372
CHAPTER XVIII.
CONCLUSION.
Edward’s labours drawing to a close—Still craves after
Nature—His wife accompanies him to Huntly—Traps at
Tarlair—Another discovery to announce—Nilsson’s
Goby—His numerous discoveries—His observations at last
accredited—His self-reliance and perseverance—His
sobriety—His family—His power of Will—Pride—Never
despair—Money considerations—Things he has _not_
done—Edward at home—His outside helpers—His
failures—“HERE I AM STILL” 373-388
FAUNA OF BANFFSHIRE.
MAMMALS 391-394
BIRDS 394-417
FISHES 417-429
CRUSTACEA 430-438
ILLUSTRATIONS
BY GEORGE REID, R.S.A.
PORTRAIT OF THOMAS EDWARD. _Etched by P. Rajon._ _Frontispiece._
_Engraved by_
BANKS AND BRAES O’ DON _J. W. Whymper._ _To face page_ 1
AULTEN LINKS, ABERDEEN ” _page_ 42
BRIG O’ BALGOWNIE ” _To face page_ 48
THE SPIRES OF ST. MACHAR ” _page_ 49
CHARLES BEGG’S SHOP, GALLOWGATE ” _page_ 55
GRANDHOLM MILLS ” ” 60
RUINS OF DUNNOTTAR CASTLE _J. D. Cooper._ ” 63
DISTANT VIEW OF MONTROSE _J. W. Whymper._ ” 65
CASTLEGATE, ABERDEEN, ON
FRIDAYS _J. D. Cooper._ ” 79
BOYNDIE CHURCHYARD _J. W. Whymper._ _To face page_ 100
THE CASTLE OF THE BOYNE _J. D. Cooper._ ” 116
FRASERBURGH _J. W. Whymper._ _page_ 128
BAY OF ABERDOUR _J. D. Cooper._ ” 134
MOUTH OF THE DON _J. W. Whymper._ _To face page_ 176
THE SHORE AT ABERDEEN ” _page_ 180
TARLAIR—VIEW OF NORTH COAST
OF BANFFSHIRE _J. D. Cooper._ _To face page_ 196
GAMRIE HEAD _J. W. Whymper._ ” 218
VILLAGE OF PENNAN _J. D. Cooper._ ” 250
RED HEAD OF PENNAN _J. W. Whymper._ _page_ 251
BAY OF BOYNDIE, FROM BANFF
LINKS _J. W. Whymper._ ” 278
BROADSEA, NEAR FRASERBURGH _J. D. Cooper._ ” 291
SPYNIE CASTLE AND LOCH _J. W. Whymper._ ” 359
BANFF MUSEUM ” ” 372
“HERE I AM STILL” ” _To face page_ 388
EDWARD’S HOUSE, LOW SHORE,
BANFF _J. D. Cooper._ _page_ 438
OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS.
MAP OF NORTH BANFFSHIRE AND NORTH ABERDEENSHIRE _Pages_ 136-7
PRANIZA EDWARDII ” 299
NESTS OF NEST-BUILDING CRUSTACEA ” 312
EDWARD’S MIDGE (COUCHIA EDWARDII) ” 344
THE OLD BONE IN BANFF MUSEUM ” 369
[Illustration: BANKS AND BRAES O’ DON.]
LIFE OF A NATURALIST.
CHAPTER I.
_EARLY YEARS._
THOMAS EDWARD was born at Gosport, Portsmouth, on Christmas day, 1814.
His father, John Edward, was a private in the Fifeshire Militia.
Shortly after his enlistment at Cupar, he went to Aberdeen to join
his regiment. While stationed there, he became acquainted with, and
afterwards married, Margaret Mitchell, a native of the place.
Not long after John Edward’s marriage, his regiment was ordered to
Portsmouth. Towards the close of the continental war, militia regiments
were marched hither and thither, from one end of the country to
another. The regular troops had mostly left England, to meet the armies
of Napoleon in the Peninsula and the Low Countries. The militia were
assembled in camps along the coast, or were stationed in garrisons to
hold watch and ward over the French prisoners confined there. Hence the
appearance of the Fifeshire militia at Gosport, where the subject of
our story was born.
[Sidenote: _VILLAGE OF KETTLE._]
When the battle of Waterloo had been fought, and peace fell upon
Europe, the English army returned from abroad. The militia were no
longer needed for garrison duty, and the greater number of them were
sent home. The Fifeshire Militia were ordered to Fife, and took up
their quarters at Cupar. During that time, John Edward’s wife and
family resided at the village of Kettle, about six miles south-west of
the county town. They lived there, because John was a native of the
place, and had many relatives in the village.
At length the militia were disembodied. Edward returned to Kettle,
and resumed his trade of a hand-loom cotton weaver. After remaining
there for some time, he resolved to leave for Aberdeen. His wife liked
neither the place nor the people. Kettle was a long straggling sleepy
village. The people were poor, and employment was difficult to be had.
Hence Edward did not require much persuasion to induce him to leave
Kettle and settle in Aberdeen, where his wife would be amongst her own
people, and where he would be much more likely to find work and wages
to enable him to maintain his increasing family.
[Sidenote: _THE GREEN AT ABERDEEN._]
Arrived at Aberdeen, John Edward and his wife “took up house” in the
Green, one of the oldest quarters of the city. Their house stood at
the head of the Green, near Hadden’s “Woo mill.” The remains of the
old Green were lower down the hill. The Denburn ran at the foot of the
Street. There were also the Inches, near the mouth of the Dee, over
which the tide flowed daily.
Since then, the appearance of that part of Aberdeen has become entirely
changed. Railways have blotted out many of the remnants of old
cities.[1] The Green is now covered with houses, factories, and the
Aberdeen Railway Station,—its warehouses, sidings, and station rooms. A
very fine bridge has been erected over the Green, now forming part of
Union Street; the Palace Hotel overlooking the railway station and the
surrounding buildings.
Thomas Edward was brought up in his parents’ house in the Green, such
as it was sixty years ago. It is difficult to describe how he became
a naturalist. He himself says he could never tell. Various influences
determine the direction of a boy’s likings and dislikings. Boys who
live in the country are usually fond of birds and bird-nesting; just as
girls who live at home are fond of dolls and doll-keeping. But this boy
had more than the ordinary tendency to like living things. He wished
to live amongst them. He made pets of them; and desired to have them
constantly about him.
[Sidenote: _THE UNRULY CHILD._]
From his birth he was difficult to manage. His mother said of him that
he was the worst child she had ever nursed. He was never a moment at
rest. His feet and legs seemed to be set on springs. When only about
four months old, he leapt from his mother’s arms, in the vain endeavour
to catch some flies buzzing in the window. She clutched him by his long
clothes, and saved him from falling to the ground. He began to walk
when he was scarce ten months old, and screamed when any one ventured
to touch him. And thus he went on, observing and examining,—as full of
liking for living things as he was when he tried to grasp the flies in
the window at Gosport.
[Sidenote: _BEGINNINGS OF NATURAL HISTORY._]
When afterwards asked about the origin of his love for Natural History,
he said, “I suppose it must have originated in the same internal
impulse which prompted me to catch those flies in the window. This
unseen something—this double being, or call it what you will—inherent
in us all, whether used for good or evil, which stimulated the
unconscious babe to get at, no doubt, the first living animals he
had ever seen, at length grew in the man into an irresistible and
unconquerable passion, and engendered in him an insatiable longing for,
and earnest desire to be always amongst such things. This is the only
reason I can give for becoming a lover of Nature. I know of none other.”
While living at Kettle, the child began to walk. He made friends with
the cats and dogs about the house. He was soon able to toddle out of
doors. At first, he wished to cultivate the acquaintance of the cocks
and hens and ducks, of which the village was full. But they always ran
away before he could get up to them and caress them.
There was, however, another, and a much more dangerous creature, whose
acquaintance he sought to make. This was a sow called Bet, with a
litter of pigs. Whenever he was missing, he was found looking in at the
pigs. He could not climb over the paling, but could merely look through
the splits.
The sow was known to be ferocious, and she was most so when she had a
litter of pigs. Edward’s mother was afraid lest the sow should injure
him by biting his hands or face through the bars of the cruive.[2]
Therefore she warned him not to go near the beast. But her warnings
were disregarded. When she asked, “Where’s Tam?” the answer invariably
was, “Oh! he’s awa wi’ the pigs.”
[Sidenote: “_STOLEN BY THE GYPSIES._”]
One day the boy disappeared. Every hen-house, every stable, every
pigstye, and every likely corner of the village, was searched; but
in vain. Tom was lost! He was then little over a year old. He could
not have gone very far. Somebody raised the cry that he had been
“stolen by the gipsies!” It was remembered that some tinkers had been
selling their brooms and pans in the village that afternoon; and it
was immediately concluded that they had kidnapped the child. It was
not so very unreasonable after all. Adam Smith, the author of the
_Wealth of Nations_, had been kidnapped by a gipsy woman when a child
at Kirkcaldy, many years before; and such things live long in popular
recollection.
A hue-and-cry was accordingly got up in Kettle about the bairn that
had been stolen by the gipsies. Their camp was known to be in the
neighbourhood,—about three miles off. Tom’s uncle and three other
men volunteered to go early next morning. The neighbours went to
their homes, except two, who remained with the mother. She sat by the
fire all night,—a long, wretched, dreary night. Early in the morning
the four men started. They found the gipsy camp, and stated their
grievance. They “wanted the child that had been kidnapped yesterday.”
“What?” said the chief gipsy; “we never kidnap children; such a
dishonest deed has never been laid to our charge. But, now that you are
here, you had better look for yourselves.”
As the searchers were passing through among the carts and tents, they
were set upon by a number of women and girls, and belaboured with
every kind of weapon and missile. Those who had neither sticks nor
ropes, used their claws. The men were unmercifully pummelled and
scratched before they could make their escape. They reached Kettle in a
deplorable state,—but without the child!
All hopes of his recovery in that quarter being ended, another body of
men prepared to set out in another direction. But at this moment they
were amazed by a scream outside the house. All eyes were turned to the
door, when in rushed the pig-wife, and, without the least ceremony,
threw the child into his mother’s lap. “There, woman, there’s yer
bairn! but for God’s sake keep him awa frae yon place, or he may fare
war next time.” “But whar was he?” they exclaimed in a breath. “Whar
wud he be but below Bet and her pigs a’ nicht!”[3]
[Sidenote: _THE INCHES AT ABERDEEN._]
When the family removed to Aberdeen, young Edward was in his glory.
The place where he lived was close to the outside of the town. He was
enabled to roam into the country by way of Deeside and Ferryhill. Close
at hand were the Inches,—not the Inches of to-day—but the beautiful
green Inches of sixty years ago, covered with waving algæ. There, too,
grew the scurvy grass, and the beautiful sea daisy. Between the Inches,
were channels through which the tide flowed, with numerous pots or
hollows. These were the places for bandies, eels, crabs, and worms.
[Sidenote: _THE VENOMOUS BEASTS._]
Above the Inches, the town’s manure was laid down,—at a part now
covered by the railway station. The heaps were remarkably prolific
in beetles, rats, sparrows, and numerous kinds of flies. Then the
Denburn, at the foot of the Green, yielded no end of horse-leeches,
powets (tadpoles), frogs, and other creatures that abound in fresh or
muddy water. The boy used daily to play at these places, and brought
home with him his “venomous beasts,” as the neighbours called them. At
first they consisted, for the most part, of tadpoles, beetles, snails,
frogs, sticklebacks, and small green crabs (the young of the _Carcinus
mœnas_); but as he grew older, he brought home horse-leeches, asks
(newts), young rats—a nest of young rats was a glorious prize—field
mice and house mice, hedgehogs, moles, birds, and birds’ nests of
various kinds.
The fishes and birds were easily kept; but as there was no secure
place for the puddocks, horse-leeches, rats, and such like,—they
usually made their escape into the adjoining houses, where they were
by no means welcome guests. The neighbours complained of the venomous
creatures which the young naturalist was continually bringing home. The
horse-leeches crawled up their legs and stuck to them, fetching blood;
the puddocks and asks roamed about the floors; and the beetles, moles,
and rats, sought for holes wherever they could find them.
[Sidenote: _THE INCORRIGIBLE BOY._]
The boy was expostulated with. His mother threw out all his
horse-leeches, crabs, birds, and birds’ nests; and he was strictly
forbidden to bring such things into the house again. But it was of
no use. The next time that he went out to play, he brought home as
many of his “beasts” as before. He was then threatened with corporal
punishment. But that very night he brought in a nest of young rats. He
was then flogged. But it did him no good. The disease, if it might be
so called, was so firmly rooted in him, as to be entirely beyond the
power of outward appliances. And so it was found in the end.
Words and blows having failed to produce any visible effect, it was
determined to keep him in the house as much as possible. His father,
who was a handloom weaver, went to his work early in the morning, and
returned late at night. His meals were sent to him during the day.
The mother, who had her husband’s pirns to fill, besides attending to
her household work, was frequently out of the way; and as soon as she
disappeared, Tom was off to the Inches. When any one made a remark
about her negligence in not keeping a tighter hold of the boy, her
answer was, “Weel, I canna be aye at his heels.” Sometimes he was set
to rock the cradle. But on his mother’s arrival at home, she found
the rocker had disappeared. He was also left to play with the younger
children; but he soon left them to play by themselves.
He was occasionally sent a message, though he rarely fulfilled it.
He went to his old haunts, regardless of the urgency of the message.
One morning he was sent to his father’s workshop with his breakfast;
but instead of going there, he set off for the Stocket, several miles
from town, with two other loons.[4] Tom induced them to accompany him.
The Stocket was a fine place for birds and birds’ nests. They searched
all day, and returned home at night. The father never received his
breakfast. It was eaten by Edward and the loons.
[Sidenote: _IMPRISONED AT HOME._]
As a punishment for his various misdoings, he was told one morning
that he was to be confined to the house all day. It was a terrible
punishment, at least to him. Only a portion of his clothes was given
him, that he might not go out; and as a further precaution, his mother
tied him firmly to the table leg with a thick wisp of thrums. She
also tied his wrists together with a piece of cord. When she went out
on family affairs, Tom’s little sister was set to watch him. But he
disengaged himself from his bonds almost as quickly as the Davenport
brothers. With a mixture of promises and threats, he made his little
sister come to his help; and the two together pushed the table close to
the grate, when putting the rope which confined his legs between the
ribs, it soon burnt asunder, and he was free. He next tried to find his
clothes, but his mother had hidden them too securely. He found a coat
of his elder brother’s, much too big for himself: nevertheless he put
it on.
[Sidenote: _SETS HOUSE ON FIRE._]
His mother’s feet were now heard on the stair. Tom hid himself at the
back of the door, so that he might rush out as soon as she entered. The
door was opened, his mother rushed in screaming, and Tom ran away. The
table to which the rope had been attached was on fire, and the house
would soon have been in a blaze. In quenching the flames of the rope
attached to the boy’s leg, he had forgotten, in his hurry, to quench
the burning of the rope still attached to the table. Hence the fire.
But Tom was now at liberty. He soon got rid of his shackles, and spent
a glorious day out of doors. He had a warm homecoming at night, but the
less said of that the better.
[Sidenote: _AGAIN ESCAPES._]
In fact, the boy was found to be thoroughly incorrigible. He was
self-willed, determined, and stubborn. As he could not be kept at
home, and would not go a message, but was always running after his
“beasts,” his father at last determined to take his clothes from him
altogether. So, one morning when he went to work, he carried them with
him. When the boy got up, and found that he had nothing to wear, he was
in a state of great dismay. His mother, having pinned a bit of an old
petticoat round his neck, said to him, “I am sure you’ll be a prisoner
this day.” But no! His mother went downstairs for milk, leaving him in
the house. He had tied a string round his middle, to render himself a
little more fit for moving about. He followed his mother downstairs,
and hid himself at the back of the entry door; and as soon as she had
passed in, Tom bolted out, ran down the street, and immediately was at
his old employment of hunting for crabs, horse-leeches, puddocks, and
sticklebacks.
His father, on coming home at night with Tom’s clothes in his hand,
looked round the room, and asked, “Is he in bed?” “Na!” “Far[5] is
he?” “Weel, I left him here when I gaed to the door for milk, and
when I came back he was awa; but whether he gaed out o’ the window or
up the lum[6] I canna tell.” “Did ye gie him ony claes?” “No!” “Most
extraordinary!” exclaimed the father, sitting down in his chair. He was
perfectly thunderstruck. His supper was waiting for him, but he could
not partake of it. A neighbouring woman shortly after entered, saying,
“Meggy, he’s come!” “Oh, the nickem,”[7] said Tom’s mother, “surely
he’s dead wi’ cauld by this time. Fat _can_ we do wi’ him? Oh, Mrs.
Kelman, he’ll break my very heart. Think o’ him being oot for haill
days without ony meat. Often he’s oot afore he gets his breakfast, and
we winna see him again till night. Only think that he’s been out a’ the
day ’maist naked! We canna get him keepit in frae thae beasts o’ his!”
[Sidenote: _RECEPTION ON RETURN._]
“He’ll soon get tired o’ that,” said Mrs. Kelman, “if ye dinna lick
him.” “Never,” roared old Edward; “I’ll chain him in the house, and
see if that will cool him.” “But,” rejoined Mrs. Kelman, “ye maunna
touch him the night, John.” “I’ll chain him to the grate! But where is
he? Bring him here.” “He’s at my fireside.” By this time Tom, having
followed at her heels, and heard most of what was said about him, was
ready to enter as she came out. “Far hae ye been, you scamp?” asked his
mother. “At the Tide!” His father on looking up, and seeing the boy
with the old petticoat about him, bedabbled by the mud in which he had
been playing, burst into a fit of laughter. He leant back on his chair,
and laughed till he could laugh no more.
“Oh, laddie,” said the mother, “ye needna look at me in that way. It’s
you that he’s laughin’ at, you’re sic a comical sicht. Ye’ll gang to
that stinkin’ place, man, till ye droun yoursel, and sine ye winna
come back again.” Tom was then taken in hand, cleaned and scrubbed,
and put to bed. Next morning his father, before he went out, appeared
at the boy’s bedside, and said, “If ye go out this day, sir, I’ll have
you chained.” “But,” replied Tom, “ye hinna a cooch;”[8] for he had
no notion of anything being chained but dogs. “Never mind,” said his
father, “I’ll chain you!”
[Sidenote: _IS LAID UP BY FEVER._]
The boy had no inclination to rise that day. He was hot and cold
alternately. When he got up in the afternoon, he was in a “gruize.”[9]
Then he went to bed again. By the evening he was in a hot fever. Next
day he was worse. He raved, and became delirious. He rambled about his
beasts and his birds. Then he ceased to speak. His mouth became clammy
and his tongue black. He hung between life and death for several weeks.
At length the fever spent itself, leaving him utterly helpless.
One afternoon, as he was gradually getting better, he observed his
mother sitting by his bedside. “Mother,” said he, “where are my crabs
and bandies that I brocht hame last nicht?” “Crabs and bandies!” said
she, “ye’re surely gaun gyte;[10] it’s three months sin ye were oot!”
This passed the boy’s comprehension. His next question was, “Has my
father gotten the chains yet?” “Na, laddie, nor winna; but ye maunna
gang back to yer auld places for beasts again.” “But where’s a’ my
things, mother?” “They’re awa! The twa bottoms o’ broken bottles we
found in the entry, the day you fell ill, were both thrown out.” “And
the shrew mouse ye had in the boxie?” “Calton (the cat) took it.” This
set the boy a-crying, and in that state he fell asleep, and did not
waken till late next morning,—when he felt considerably better. He
still, however, continued to make inquiries after his beasts.
His father, being in-doors, and seeing the boy rising and leaning upon
his elbow, said to him, “Come awa, laddie. It’s long since ye were oot.
The whins, and birds, and water-dogs[11] at Daiddie Brown’s burnie,
will be a’ langin to see ye again.” The boy looked at his mother, and
smiled, but said nothing. In a few days he was able to rise, but the
spring was well advanced before he was able to go out of doors.
[Sidenote: _HIS RECOVERY._]
He then improved rapidly. He was able to go farther and farther every
day. At first he wandered along the beach. Then he roamed about
over the country. He got to know the best nesting places—the woods,
plantations, and hedges,—the streams, burns, locks, and mill-dams,—all
round Aberdeen. When the other boys missed a nest, it was always “that
loon Edward” that took it. For this he was thrashed, though he was only
about four years old.
[Sidenote: _THE RUBISLAW QUARRIES._]
One of his favourite spots was the Den[12] and quarries of Rubislaw.
There were five excellent places in the Den for birds’ nests and wild
flowers. But he went to the quarries chiefly to find the big bits
of sheep’s silver or mica in the face of the rocks. Edward was much
astonished at the size of the rocks. He knew how birds made their
nests; he knew how flowers and whins grew out of the ground; but he
did not know how rocks grew. He asked his parents for the reason. They
told him that these rocks had existed from the beginning. This did not
satisfy him, and he determined to ask one of the men at the quarry,
who certainly ought to know how the rocks grew. “How do the rocks
grow?” asked he of a quarryman one day. “Fat say ye?” Tom repeated the
question. “To the deil wi’ ye, ye impudent brat, or I’ll toss ye owre
the head o’ the quarry!” Tom took to his heels and fled, never looking
back.
Another favourite haunt was Daiddie Brown’s burnie. There were
plantations and hedges near it, and fields close at hand on either
side. Its banks were thickly clothed with wild raspberries and
whins—the habitats of numerous birds. The burn itself had plenty of
water-dogs, or water-rats, along its banks. That neighbourhood has now
been entirely overbuilt. The trees, the hedges, the whins, and even the
burn itself, have all been swept away.
[Sidenote: _LOVE OF BIRDNESTING._]
Tom’s knowingness about birds’ nests attracted many of his boy-fellows
to accompany him in his expeditions. He used to go wandering on,
forgetful of time, until it became very late. On such occasions, the
parents of the boys became very anxious about them; and knowing that
Tam Edward was the cause of their being kept so long away from home,
they forbade them accompanying him again on any account. When he asked
them to go with him a-birdnesting, their answer usually was, “Wha wad
gang wi’ you? ye never come hame!” Even when Tom did get any boys to
follow him, he usually returned alone.
[Sidenote: _“A BYKE” IN THE WOOD._]
On one occasion he got some boys to accompany him to a wood at Polmuir,
about two miles from town, on a birdnesting expedition. While they were
going through the wood, a little separated, one of them called out, “A
byke, a byke,[13] stickin’ on a tree, and made o’ paper!” A byke was
regarded as a glorious capture, not only for the sake of the honey,
but because of the fun the boys had in skelpin’ out the bees. Before
they had quite reached the spot, one of the youngest boys yelled out,
“Oh! I’m stung, I’m stung!” He took to his feet, and they all followed.
After they had run some distance, and there being no appearance of a
foe, a halt was made, and they stood still to consider the state of
affairs. But all that could be ascertained was, that the byke was on a
tree, that it was made of paper, and that it had lots of yellow bees
about it.
This so excited Tom’s curiosity that he at once proposed to go back
and take down the paper byke. His proposal was met with a decided
refusal; and on his insisting upon going back, all the other boys ran
away home. Nothing daunted, however, he went back to that part of the
wood where the byke had been seen. He found it, and was taking it from
the under side of the branch to which it was attached, when a bee lit
upon one of his fingers, and stung it severely. The pain was greater
than from any sting that he had ever had before. He drew back, and
sucked and blew the wound alternately, in order to relieve the pain.
[Sidenote: _SECURES THE BYKE._]
Then he thought, “What can I do next?” There the byke hung before him.
It was still in his power to remove it,—if he could. To leave it was
impossible. Although he had nothing to defend himself from the attacks
of the bees, nor anything to put the byke into when he had taken it
down, still he would not go without it. His bonnet could scarcely do.
It was too little and too holey. His stockings would not do; because he
wished to take the byke home whole. A thought struck him. There was his
shirt! That would do. So he took off his jacket, and disrobed himself
of his shirt. Approaching the tree very gently, though getting numerous
stings by the way, he contrived to remove the byke from the branch to
which it was hanging, and tucked it into his shirt. He tied the whole
up into a sort of round knot, so as to keep all in that was in.
It was now getting quite dark, and he hurried away with his prize.
He got home in safety. He crept up the stair, and peeped in at the
keyhole, to see that the coast was clear. But no! he saw his father
sitting in his chair. There was an old iron pot in a recess on one side
of the stair, in which Tom used to keep his numerous “things,” and
there he deposited his prize until he could unpack it in the morning.
He now entered the house as if nothing had happened. “Late as usual,
Tam,” said his father. No further notice was taken. Tom got his supper
shortly after, and went to bed.
Before getting into bed, he went a little out of way to get undressed,
and then, as much unseen as possible, he crept down beneath the
blankets. His brother, having caught sight of his nudity, suddenly
called out, “Eh, mother, mother, look at Tam! he hasna gotten on his
sark!” Straightway his mother appeared at the bedside, and found
that the statement was correct. Then the father made his appearance.
“Where’s your shirt, sir?” “I dinna ken.” “What! dinna ken!” addressing
his wife—“Where’s my strap?” Tom knew the power of the strap, and found
that there was no hope of escaping it.
The strap was brought! “Now, sir, tell me this instant, where is your
shirt?” “It’s in the bole on the stair.” “Go and get it, and bring it
here immediately.” Tom went and brought it, sorrowfully enough, for he
dreaded the issue. “And what have you got in it?” “A yellow bumbees’
byke.” “A what?” exclaimed his father and mother in a breath. “A yellow
bumbees’ byke.” “Did I not tell you, sir,” said his father, “only the
other day, and made you promise me, not to bring any more of these
things into the house, endangering and molesting us as well as the
whole of our neighbours. Besides only think of your stripping yourself
in a wood, to get off your shirt to hold a bees’ byke!”
“But this is a new ane,” said Tom, “it’s made o’ paper.” “Made o’
fiddlesticks!” “Na, I’ll let ye see it.” “Let it alone, I don’t want to
see it. Go to bed at once, sir, or I shall give you something (shaking
his strap) that will do you more good than bees’ bykes!”
[Sidenote: _THE WASP’S NEST._]
Before the old couple went to bed, they put Tom’s shirt into a big
bowl, poured a quantity of boiling water over it, and after it was
cold, they opened the shirt, and found—a Wasps’ Nest!
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Some antiquarian writers are of opinion that “The Green” was the
site of ancient Aberdeen. For instance, Sir Samuel Forbes of Foveran,
in his _Description of Aberdeenshire_ (1715), says, “From the end of
the last-mentioned straight street [the Upper Kirkgate], there runs
another southward and obliquely [the Nether Kirkgate], leading also to
the town churches, and terminates in a pretty broad street, lying flat,
and called the Green, the seat of the ancient city; where the river Dee
receives a small rivulet, called the Denburn, covered with a bridge of
three arches.”—Turreffs’s _Antiquarian Gleanings_, 290.
[2] _Cruive_, a pigstye.
[3] The question occurred, How did the child get amongst the pigs? He
could not have climbed over the paling; he must have been lifted over.
There was an old sweetheart of the quondam militiaman, whom he had
deserted in favour of Margaret Mitchell. It was believed that she had
maliciously lifted the child over the palings, and put him amongst the
pigs, most probably from spite against her old lover.
[4] In the north, _loons_ and _queans_ are boys and girls.
[5] The pronunciation of the Aberdeenshire dialect is peculiar. For
instance, _far_ is where; _fat_, what; _tee_, to; _dee_, do; _feel_,
fool; _peer_, poor; _byeuk_, book; _been_, bone, etc. It is said that
Jane Maxwell, the handsome and beautiful Duchess of Gordon, was in the
habit of amusing George III. by repeating phrases in Aberdonian doric;
and that his Majesty plumed himself on his ability to interpret them.
The Duchess one day tried his mettle with the following: “A gangrel
bodie oot o’ the toon o’ Stanhive was i’ the way o’ wan’erin the
kwintra wi’ a bit basket owre ’er gardie, crying, ‘Fa’ll buy my black
doctors fulpit in a peel?’” The gangrel bodie was a leech-seller of
Stonehaven, and of course the “doctors” were “whelped” in a pool.
[6] _Lum_, chimney.
[7] _Nickem_, a person given to mischievous tricks. The word is also
used as an endearing phrase: my _bonnie nickem_ is equivalent to my
_little dear_.
[8] _Cooch_, a dog-kennel.
[9] _Gruize_, a rigor, generally preceding a cold or fever.
[10] _Gaun gyte_, becoming insane, or acting foolishly.
[11] Water-rats.
[12] _Den_, dean, a dingle or small valley.
[13] _Byke_, a bees’ nest.