_RUNS AWAY FROM HOME._
AT last Edward determined to run away from home, and from Charlie
Begg’s cruelty, and to visit his wonderful uncle at the Kettle. The
village is situated nearly in the centre of the county of Fife,—about
a hundred miles from Aberdeen. Edward did not know a step of the road;
but he would try and do his best to reach the far-off place.
The first thing that he wanted was money. All his earnings had gone
into the family purse, and were used for family expenses. One day, when
his mother had gone out, leaving Edward to rock the cradle, he went
to look at the money box, and found only a solitary sixpence in it.
He wanted sevenpence in all,—that is, a penny to get across Montrose
bridge, and sixpence to cross the Tay at Dundee. He took the sixpence
from the box, and fancied that he might be able to raise another penny
by selling his knife. He took two quarters of oat-cakes, put some
oatmeal into a parcel, and bundling his things together, and giving the
cradle a final and heavy rock, he left the house, and got away unseen.
[Sidenote: _JOURNEY TO THE KETTLE._]
He ran up Deeside until he came to a high bank, near where the
Allanvale cemetery now stands. He went in amongst the bushes, took off
his working duds and put his Sunday clothes on; then, tying the former
in a bundle, he dug a hole amongst the sand and shingle, and thrust
them in, stamping upon them to press them down. He covered up the
whole with grass, leaves, and shingle. Putting his stockings and shoes
together, and swinging them over his shoulder, he set out barefoot for
Kettle. He thought he might be able to accomplish the journey in about
two days.
Away he sped. Time was precious. The way was long, and his provender
was small. He had only sixpence. He soon tried to raise the other
penny. He met with two herd boys and a girl. He said to the boys,
“Will ye buy a knife? I’ll give it you cheap.” “No.” He passed through
Stonehaven, about sixteen miles from Aberdeen, and up a steep brae on
to Bervie.
[Sidenote: _DUNNOTTAR CASTLE._]
Edward was not much influenced by the scenery through which he passed.
He was anxious to push on without loss of time. But one thing he could
not help seeing, and that was the ruins of Dunnottar Castle. They lay
on his left hand, on a lofty rock-bound cliff, betwixt him and the sea.
They seemed to be of great extent, but he could not turn aside to visit
the ruins. They reminded him, however, of the numerous stories he had
heard about them at home,—of the Covenanters who had been thrust into
the Whigs’ Vault at Dunnottar, where many of them died,—of others
who had tried to escape, and been battered to pieces against the
rocks, while attempting to descend to the seashore,—and of the Regalia
of Scotland, which had been concealed there during the wars of the
Commonwealth. Thoughts of these things helped him on his way; but the
constant thought that recurred to him was, how he could sell his knife
and raise the other penny.
[Illustration: RUINS OF DUNNOTTAR CASTLE.]
As he was approaching Bervie, he met some lads on the road, and asked
them “Will you buy a knife?” “Where did you steal it?” said the lads.
Off went Edward, followed by a volley of stones. He walked on for a
long time, until he got hot and tired. By that time he had walked about
twenty-five miles. Then he sat down by the side of a spring to eat his
oatmeal, and swallow it down with water.
After resting himself for a time, he started up and set off at full
speed for Montrose. On his way he saw numerous things that he would
have liked to take with him, and numerous woods that he would have gone
into and searched with right good will; but the thought of the journey
before him put all other things aside. Kettle was still a long way off;
and besides, he still wanted the additional pontage penny, in order to
cross Montrose Bridge. He went on and overtook a girl. He asked her if
she would buy a knife. “No!”
[Sidenote: _ENCOUNTER WITH TRAMPS._]
He next overtook a man and woman with a lot of bairns. They looked
rather suspicious. He tried to avoid them, and walked faster, but the
man addressed him: “Stop a minute, laddie; ye’re in an awfy hurry!”
“Yes,” said Edward, “I am in a hurry.” “But have ye ony baccy?” “No, I
have no baccy.” “Try if he has ony clink,” said the woman. “Have ye ony
brass?” “No.” “Take him, ye sheep,” said the woman to her husband, “and
squeeze him.” Tom, on hearing this, immediately betook himself to his
heels, and being a good runner, soon left them far behind.
[Sidenote: _MONTROSE._]
At length he reached Montrose. Seeing some boys gazing in at a shop
window, he went up to them and asked if they would buy a knife. “No!”
Edward thought he would never get rid of his knife. He must raise a
penny to get over Montrose bridge, and yet he had nothing but his knife
to sell. He could not break into his sixpence. Then he bethought him
of offering the knife to the bridge-keeper, and if he refused to buy
it, he would try and run the blockade. He went up to the bridge, looked
at the entrance, and felt that he could not run across with success.
He went away from the bridge, and determined again to sell his knife.
Walking up the river, he came to some men working at a large building.
He asked if any of them wanted a knife. After a little bargaining, one
of the men said he would give a penny for it. Edward was delighted.
He rushed back to the bridge, gave the bridge-keeper the penny, and
crossed in double quick time on his way to Arbroath.
[Illustration: DISTANT VIEW OF MONTROSE.]
[Sidenote: _SLEEPS IN A HAYCOCK._]
It was now getting dark. He had walked all day, and was now very
tired. He was desirous of putting up somewhere for the night. But
first he must have his supper. He sat down by a little rill, and, with
the help of the water, ate some more of his meal and a piece of his
oat-cake. After he had refreshed himself, he thought he could walk a
few more miles. He had now walked forty miles. The twilight being long
in the north, and the month being July, he went on until he came to
what he thought would be a good beild[19] for the night. This was a
field in which there were a number of haycocks. He crossed the wall,
went up to a haycock, pulled a lot of hay out, then ensconced himself
inside, and soon fell fast asleep.
Towards morning he was wakened up by something scratching at his brow.
On putting his hand up he found it was a big black beetle trying to
work its way in between his skin and his bonnet. He wished he had had
his box with him to preserve the beetle, but he could only throw it
away. As he lay awake he heard the mice squeaking about him. It was
still dark, though there was a glimmering of light in the east. Day
was about to break. So he got out of his hole, shook the hay from him,
crossed the wall, and resumed his journey.
Though he felt stiff at first, he soon recovered his walking powers,
and reached Arbroath by daylight. Everybody was in bed, excepting one
woman, whom he saw standing at the end of a close-mouth. He went up to
her and asked, “which was the road to Dundee.” When she began to speak,
he saw that she was either drunk, or daft, or something worse. He went
away, walked through several other streets, but found no one astir. The
town was asleep. Then he sat down on a doorstep and ate some of his
cake. He was just beginning to fall asleep, when some men who passed
woke him up. They told him the road to Dundee, and he instantly set off
in that direction.
As he went on his way, he came up to a man who was tramping along like
himself. He belonged to Dundee, was a weaver by trade, and had been
travelling through the country in search of work. The man asked Edward
where he had come from, whither he was going, where he had slept, and
what money he had to carry him to the end of his journey. On hearing
that he had only enough to carry him across the ferry at Dundee, the
weaver gave him a penny, saying that he would have given him more, but
that the penny was all the change he had.
[Sidenote: _THE SAILORS’ WIVES._]
Shortly after, they overtook two women, who turned out to be two
sailors’ wives. They had come from Aberdeen. The ship in which their
husbands sailed, had been chartered to Dundee, and would not enter
the port of Aberdeen for some time; hence the journey of the wives to
Dundee. The weaver, on hearing where they came from, pointed to his
little companion, and said, “Here’s a laddie that comes frae the same
place, and as his wallet’s no very weel filled, perhaps ye might gie
him a copper or two.” One of the women looked hard at Edward, and
said, “I’ve surely seen ye before, laddie. Did ye ever frequent the
fishmarket i’ the Shipraw?” “Yes.” “And ye had sometimes tame rottens
wi’ ye?” “Yes.” “Ah! I thocht sae. I used to help my mother wi’ her
fish, and was sure that I had seen ye i’ the market.”
They then asked him where he was going? “Till the Kettle,” he said.
“Till the—what did ye say, laddie?” “The Kettle!” How they laughed!
They had never heard of such a place before. But when their laughter
had settled down, they gave the boy twopence; and as they parted, one
of the women said, “Tak’ care o’ yer feet, laddie, when ye step intil
the Kettle.”
[Sidenote: _DUNDEE._]
On reaching Dundee, Edward crossed the Firth of Tay by the ferry-boat,
and reached Newport, in the county of Fife. From thence he walked
on to Cupar. He was very much bewildered by the manner in which the
people told him the direction of the roads. They told him to go south
or north, or east or west. He had no idea of these geographical
descriptions. One man told him to “gang east a bit, then turn south,
syne haud wast.”
He went in the direction indicated, but he could proceed no farther.
He sat down on a stone at the side of the road, and fell fast asleep.
A gentleman passing in a gig, called out to him, “Boy! boy! get up!
don’t lie sleeping in the sun there; it’s very dangerous!” On wakening
up he was much dazed, and he did not at first remember where he was.
When he finally got up, he asked the gentleman the road to Cupar. On
being properly directed, he set off again.
[Sidenote: _THE LONG-TAILED TITMOUSE._]
The road along which he passed lay for some time through a wood.
Among the various birds which he saw and heard, he observed a group
of little round birds not much bigger than a hazel nut, with very
long tails. They squeaked like mice, and hung to and went round about
the slenderest twigs. He had never seen such little birds before. He
did not know their names, but he afterwards found that they were the
Long-tailed Titmouse. The little things were the young brood of the
parent bird, which was, no doubt, hanging or flying somewhere near them.
Edward went into the wood to see them and follow them. As he passed
along he was called to from behind, and a man came up and seized him
by the collar. The man, doubtless a keeper, roughly asked him where
he was going. “Naewhere!” “What are you doing here then?” “Naething!”
“What’s that in your bundle?” “My stockings and shoes.” “Let me see.”
His bundle was then overhauled, and nothing being found in it but his
stockings and shoes, he was allowed to depart, with the injunction
“never to return there again unless he wished to be sent to jail.”
[Sidenote: _ARRIVES AT THE KETTLE._]
After walking a few miles he reached Cupar, and, passing through it,
went on towards Kettle. Coming to a small burn he washed and dried his
feet, and put on his stockings and shoes, rubbing the dust from off his
clothes preparatory to arriving at his destination. He reached Kettle
in the evening, and soon found his uncle. But the reception he met with
did not at all meet his expectations. It was anything but cordial.
After some inquiries, the uncle came to the conclusion that the boy had
done some mischief, and had run away from his parents to hide himself
in the Kettle. He could not believe that the boy had come so far merely
to see him. The old man’s relations were all dead, or had removed from
the place. He was merely lodging with a friend. The house in which he
lodged was full, and there was no spare bed for Edward. At length the
woman of the house said that she would make up a bed for him in the
place where she kept her firewood.
When the boy had got his supper he was asked if he could read. “A
little.” The Bible was got, and he was asked to read two chapters. He
was next asked if he could sing. “No.” He was then told that he might
go to bed. The bed was soft and sweet to the tired boy. As he went to
sleep he heard the people of the house reading the Bible and singing a
psalm.
He slept very sound, and would have slept much longer, but for his
being wakened up next morning for breakfast. The rain fell very heavily
that day. The boy began to feel very weary and lonesome, and wished
again to be at home. He had taken no thought until now, of the results
of his leaving so suddenly. He thought of what his father and mother
might think of his disappearance. He wondered whether he might now get
away to sea.
[Sidenote: _RETURNS HOME._]
But how was he to get home? He had now only a poor halfpenny left.
However, he had still a gully; perhaps he might be able to sell that.
After considering the matter, he resolved to set out for Aberdeen,
rather than be a burden to the people at the Kettle. He told his uncle
that he would leave next day. The uncle said nothing. The boy was up
early next morning, got his breakfast, and also a big piece of bread,
which he put in his bundle. His uncle accompanied him a little way
along the road, and at parting gave him eighteenpence. Edward was
overjoyed. He would now be able to get home with money in his pocket.
As he approached Newport he came up to three men standing on the road.
Two of them were gentlemen, and the third seemed to be a gamekeeper.
He was showing them something which he had shot in the adjoining wood.
Edward went forward, and saw that it was a bird with blue wings and
a large variegated head. “What do you want?” said the gamekeeper to
Edward. “To have a sight of the bird, if you please.” “There, then,”
said the gamekeeper, and swung the bird in his face, nearly blinding
him. When the water was out of his eyes, and he could see, he found
that they had gone along the road. He followed them, still expecting
to see the bird, and to have it in his hand; but the gamekeeper was
relentless.
[Sidenote: _ADVENTURE WITH A BULL._]
At length he reached the pier, just as the ferry-boat was reaching
the landing-place. He had another pleasant voyage across the ferry to
Dundee. His object now was to push on to the field where he had slept
amongst the hay. He arrived at the place, but there were no haycocks.
The field was cleared. He found some whins in the neighbourhood, and
went in amongst them and slept there until the sun was well up the
sky. He started up, and went rejoicing on his way. He passed through
Arbroath, and was speeding on briskly to Montrose, when he came up to
a man standing in the middle of the road, holding a bull by a rope.
He asked the boy if he would hold the bull for a few minutes until he
went to a house, which he pointed to, near at hand. “I will give you
something if you do,” said the man. “Yes, I will,” said Edward, “if
you’ll not be long.” “No,” said the man, “I’ll not be long.”
On getting hold of the rope Edward found that he was likely to have
a difficult job. Scarcely had the man disappeared ere the bull began
to snort, and kick, and jump. The brute threw up its head and bounded
backward with such force, that the boy was nearly upset. Instead of
holding the rope short as he had been told, he let it go, though he
still held by it at the far end. Away went the bull along the road,
dragging the boy after him. So long as the full stretch of rope lay
between them, Edward did not care so much; but when the animal rushed
into a field of corn, he let go altogether, and resumed his journey.
He had not gone far before he found, on looking back, that he was hotly
pursued by the animal. Observing his danger, Edward rushed into a clump
of trees standing by the roadside, and, throwing down his bundle, he
proceeded to climb one of them. He had only ascended a few yards when
the brute came up. The bull snorted and smelt at his bundle, threw it
into the ditch with his horns, bellowed at the boy up the tree, gave
a tremendous roar, then dashed out of the wood, and set off at full
speed down the nearest byway. Edward was flurried and out of breath;
he rested in the tree for a short time, then descended and ran along
the road for some miles until he thought that he was out of reach of
further danger.
[Sidenote: _RESTS NEAR STONEHAVEN._]
This was the only adventure that he met with on his homeward journey.
He passed through Bervie without molestation. But, instead of reaching
Aberdeen that night, as he had intended, he rested near Stonehaven.
He went through the town, and got into a corner of the toll-bar dyke,
where he sat or lay until daybreak. He then got up and commenced the
last stage of his journey.
[Sidenote: _ARRIVES AT ABERDEEN._]
On reaching the neighbourhood of Aberdeen, he went to the hole in the
bank by Deeside, where he had left his week-day clothes, and found them
all right. But before going home, instead of going down Deeside, he
turned up by Scraphards to look at a laverock’s nest, which was still
there. Then he went past Ferryhill House, by Dee village, and struck
the water-side by the path now known as Affleck Street, and got home at
breakfast time, after an absence of a week.
His mother was in. “Where ha’e ye been now, ye vagaboon?” “At my
uncle’s.” “Where?” “At the Kettle.” “And ha’e ye been a’ the way to
Fife, ye vagrant?” Tom then told his story; his mother following it up
with a long and serious lecture. She reproached him for the dishonesty
which he had committed, in taking the sixpence out of the box when he
went away. “Weel, mother,” said he, “here’s the sixpence for the one
I took.” He had saved the sixpence out of the eighteenpence his uncle
had given him when he left Kettle. “No,” she replied, “the crime is the
same after all, and you are sure to be punished for it yet.”
Then she urged him to go back to his trade, for he was far better at
work than stravaigin[20] about the country like an evil-doer. Edward
asked if his father would not consent now to his going to sea. She did
not think he would; she thought that to go back to his work was the
best thing of all. She herself would not hear a word more about his
going to sea.
FOOTNOTES:
[19] _Beild_—shelter.
[20] _Stravaigin_—idle, wandering, or strolling.