"Maybole." It was close to the house; it must have been very old. The
buildings looked so gloomy and dark. There were no bright gardens or
flowers, and, oh, the people were so poor! The only industry I saw was
that of the weavers. The people all had looms in their houses--big,
clumsy wooden structures. Men, women, and children all worked at the
looms in such small places, and they lived and slept there. To me it
seemed as bad as the collieries. There came a depression in the weaving
trade, but I never knew the cause of it. It might have been that
machinery was constructed to do away with hand-weaving. At any rate, I
had once again the awful dread of seeing people perish with hunger. They
broke out and took everything they could obtain in the way of eatables,
while they tore off the palings and fencing, and armed themselves with
sticks. They came to our place, and we could only stand and look at them
divide the flour. I remember we had what was known as the American
flour. It came in large barrels from the United States. Mr. Scott was up
the line when they came, and they took everything in the way of food,
but nothing else. They broke into the bakers' shops, and the grocery
shops, and butchers', so we were told, and cleared away with all they
could lay their hands on.
I did not see much of Maybole, being afraid to go there. There were no
tall chimneys to the mills or factories, or we could have seen them from
the house. I saw the castle from which Sir James Fergusson brought his
wife, Lady Edith Fergusson, who died in Adelaide, whence her body was
taken back to the vault at the castle, near "Maybole." Meanwhile we
tried to be ignorant of the excitement stirred up, as we knew we would
not be long there, but the touch of melancholy was felt by all.
THE COUNTRY OF BURNS.
This was the land of Burns, and the district of Ayrshire. It seemed to
be a large, plain, open country. The town of Ayr had a castle once, and
the walks about Ayr were pleasant. I did like to go there. There were
some old buildings, which people come from all parts to see. Churches
are still preserved there as ruins traditionally famous.
There was no smoke and dust in Ayr, as at Glasgow, and visitors could
get easily to any of the places of attraction, either by train or
steamboat. Ayr was nine miles from Maybole. Mrs. Scott was most ardent
in every object about Burns, and she took us with her wherever she went.
On one occasion, when at Ayr, we had luncheon at a tavern, the name of
which I forget, but we were shown three such queer-looking old chairs,
with high backs, and in the back of each were portraits. In the middle
was Robert Burns, and on either side was Tam o' Shanter and Suter
Johnnie. The chairs were only for show. They told us that those three
jolly men used to meet in that room, and sit in the chairs. Girl-like, I
did not pay much attention then, but in after years, as I grew older, it
gave me joy to think I had seen them. The influences of those times
entered into my being, and have grown up with me. For myself, I made it
a rule to visit all the objects of interest, and I would go round and
round them till I was tired. We all went another day to see Burns'
monument. I gathered a few pebbles from the foot of the monument and had
them for years. They are lost, but the journey lives in my recollection
as if it was only yesterday. I saw a very old lady walking about and
talking to the people. She had on what was known as a sow-backed mutch.
Mrs. Scott told us that was the youngest sister of Robert Burns. Her
name was Mrs. Back. I read the account of her death in the paper some
years afterwards. Then we went to see the Burns' cottage. And, again, on
my own account I visited it, and took all the children with me, from
where they were building the railway.
We were in the waggon with Mr. Scott and some other gentlemen. I heard
them say, "That is Burns' cottage over there," and when they were not
looking I started off for the cottage. It must have been quite three
miles, and I had to carry the youngest child on my back all the way to
and from the place. Mr. Scott was cross, and gave me a severe talking
to, and told me if ever I did such a thing again I would not be allowed
to come out in the waggon. It was cold weather. Little maids were
dressed then in a print dress with short sleeves, low at the neck, and
opened at the back. I was cold, and so were the children, and we kept
them waiting so that they could not go back in the waggon without us.
The gentlemen were either engineers or directors, for they had on tall
hats. At least they were in position over Mr. Scott. They came from
Glasgow to look at the new line.
There were a lot of navvies working, and they had little tents all along
the line. Anyhow, I saw the cottage where Burns was born on two
different occasions. I saw both the outside and the inside. It was not a
grand place to look at, but merely a whitewashed wee house. To think
that a man born there would have a monument like what I saw made me
think of my earlier years. I can yet remember the names of the places in
passing to and from the place.
Ayrshire has plenty of rivers, and on the Clyde years afterwards I saw
where it began just a little burn. It was pointed out to me while I was
in the train travelling from London to Glasgow. But I must keep to the
far-away times. Ayrshire is divided into districts, and what always
perplexed me was when a neighborhood was called a burgh. I liked the
parts, such as the rough high hills and the Ailsa Craig, which you could
see from a long way off.
I GO TO A NEW PLACE.
The winter came in and we had to keep in doors, but the line was getting
near to an end. Mr. Scott got another contract on the Dumfries line, so
I was to go back to Slamannan, but Mrs. Scott said she would be going
through for a trip and I could go with her. Before the time came for us
to go a friend of Mr. Scott's came on a visit from Grangemouth, near
Falkirk. She was about to be married to a gentleman living at the
railway terminus at Dalmellington. This was her second husband, although
she was quite young. She and Mrs. Scott thought I would do nicely for
her little maid. She had a little boy, whom she hoped to have with her.
Mrs. Scott knew my home troubles. They asked me if I would go to
Dalmellington with her when she got married. I liked the lady and I said
I would go with her, or, at least, she was to come for me. It was agreed
that when she went to Falkirk that I would go with her. So she came for
me. The name of the gentleman she married was Mr. Macblean, and he kept
the new Railway Tavern. It was all taverns, or inns, then, and seldom
you saw a hotel. Neither Mrs. Macblean nor myself had anything to do
with the drink traffic, for which I was thankful. Before I left Maybole
we all went to have something woven by those poor weavers. I chose the
colors I would like, and saw them put into the loom. I had that skirt in
Adelaide as a reminiscence of that time of mixed feelings. Mrs. Scott
also knew the housekeeper at the Earl of Cathcart's, on the banks of the
Doon. I thought I would try any of the places rather than go to
Slamannan, or stop at Maybole after Mr. and Mrs. Scott had gone. I did
not seem to fear the people. I knew that I would have to go amongst
strangers wherever I went. So it was all the same to me.
I never regretted going with Mrs. Macblean, but, young as I was, I
think I was right in my idea that she regretted having married a
tavern-keeper. He was very unwilling to have her little son taken there,
as he did not want the people to know that he had married a widow. I
know she was not very happy, although he seemed a nice man. She had
every comfort, but she did long to see her son. I was beginning to want
to see my friends, and I missed the children, who were with me at Mrs.
Scott's, and the out-of-doors life in the waggons. I had agreed to stay
for six months, so I was made useful in the house. There was a big maid
as well, but I kept with Mrs. Macblean for the most part. She was a
stranger, and, as I knew no one there, we often went for long walks
together. The place was delightful, and the absence of poverty a relief.
I could see as the weeks went on that if her little boy was not allowed
to come I would not be wanted there. The next week Mr. and Mrs. Scott
and children came to stop at the tavern for a few weeks, and that was a
great joy to me. They took me everywhere they went, while the children
were affectionate and pleased to see me again.
Then for the first time I saw that beautiful locality "the banks and
braes o' bonnie Doon," which was about two miles or so from
Dalmellington. The road was good, and there was pasture land, with
plenty of cattle and sheep, and high knolls covered with grass and the
sheep on top. The Loch Doon is said to be seven miles long and seven
miles wide. It flows to the sea near to Ayr, and it is "banks and
braes" all the way. I have often tried to tell my first impression. But
this is the first time I have written about it. I know I cannot say
much. There were two paths, one was close to the water and the other on
top of the hills. The Earl of Cathcart's seat was most romantic. He was
noted for his love of hounds and huntsmen. He kept stags and deer there.
They would look at you and rush up the rugged height and get caught in
the bushes with their wonderful horns. There were trees growing all the
way up the side of the bank, so that on the top walk you could put up
your hand and pull off nuts from such tall trees. I did not go to the
top walk that day. But again and again I found myself on the braes of
Doon.
Mrs. Scott went to see the housekeeper at the earl's, and took the
children and me. I thought it was the lady countess. She was dressed in
black satin, with a lovely lace cap and white hair. She went to that
family when she was a girl about my age. The place looked magnificent,
and I learnt afterwards that 20 men were employed to look after the
stags and horses and hounds. There was a page boy and ladies' maid, but
no children. The ladies went also to the hunt, and I used to go and see
them. The earl and countess only came there for the hunting season. It
made me think of the colliers in Slamannan and the weavers in Maybole,
and to wonder. There was a lot of queer talk about the earl. We had a
peep into the kitchen, and never shall I forget it. There were men cooks
and women cooks. The men always went wherever the earl went.
Loch Doon was a favorite excursion, and for the fishing season some
noblemen would come there and have tents erected with men-servants in
attendance. The loch is famed for the trout and salmon, and is a good
place for fishing for those who are allowed to catch them. Both coal and
ironstone are found in many places in Ayrshire.
At Dalmellington there was a large ironworks, where they smelted the ore
into iron, and whence they sent it to all parts of Britain for making
railway iron. They put the ore in a great blasting furnace. Then they
made beds of sand all around to receive the melted iron in moulds while
it was hot. It was generally well known when this iron would be let out
of the furnace and the people would rush to see it and to watch the men
gauging that red hot melted iron, so that it would run in to the moulds.
It seemed awful. It was said those men never lived long, and no wonder,
seeing how they worked amidst that fluid. I only went once, but we could
hear when the iron was cast off. It always made me shudder.
The tavern was not far from the railway-station, and on the road leading
to Loch Doon. Mr. Macblean seemed to do well. Some refreshments were
also obtainable, and there were a few rooms to let. After the Scotts
went away I felt lonely. Sometimes I saw a drunken man, and on the
Saturday nights such a lot would be about. Both Mrs. Macblean and I
would shut ourselves in a dark room and cry. I knew that I was a long
way from where my sister and brother were. If I could have seen them
sometimes it would have been something to look forward to. Mrs. Macblean
could not see her way to leave her husband and home for a week or so. We
talked the matter over, and it was arranged I should go. I knew
Grangemouth was close to Falkirk. I could go thence for a week's leave
and see my friends and take some things to Mrs. Macblean's boy, she
paying for my return ticket to Glasgow. I had some nice new clothing and
was growing tall. I thought for 14 years of age I had seen the serious
side of life and some of its vicissitudes, and had gained experience
from my trials. I felt happy to go back, and I knew the places. I was
not likely to get lost on the Caledonia and Glasgow line. I could write
a little, but I did not let them know I was coming home. I thought I
would take them by surprise. What wonderful possibilities lie in store
for the young!
I was glad to find that my father kept from the drink, and my dear
brother, how he had grown! I did not see my sister for a day or two, as
she had gone to a place further away. My brother came with me the next
day, and we walked all the way to Grangemouth. It was a shipping port,
with good-sized vessels lying at the quays. We had no trouble in finding
the house of Mrs. Macblean's mother. Although close to the dock, it had
a nice appearance. They knew by letter that I was coming, but they did
not know on what day during my week's leave. I shall never forget the
dear little son of my mistress. He was five years old. He wanted to be
taken to his mamma. They were gracious and kind to my brother and me. I
have seen many shipping places since then, but none so clean-looking as
Grangemouth. They wished to keep us for the night, but we walked back to
Slamannan that night. It was late, but we were not afraid. It was eight
miles there and eight miles back. That made it sixteen to walk in one
day, so we were tired the next day. I am quite sure that on some of the
other days we walked just as far. I know that we went to Linlithgow to
see someone we knew. We went all along the railway line and it was a
long way, but we had no money to pay for train fare. It must have been
more than nine miles there and nine miles back. From Slamannan the
youngsters would think nothing of walking to Castle Carrey, a wood where
a queer-looking berry grew wild. It was called a blea berry, and grew on
short stems low down, not bunchy. The people used to send their children
there in the season to pick those berries and make jam with them. They
had to take a can or a jar to carry them. The juice of the berry was in
itself a perfect dye, and it was amusing to see the hands and lips and
teeth of those who picked or eat the berries. My brother and myself
went, and our teeth were soon black like coals with juice. In Scotland
we did not know anything about snakes. At that date I had never heard of
them, so we could wander about without fear in the woods.
My week soon came to an end, and I returned to Dalmellington. I did not
like being so far away, so when I got to Glasgow I saw Mrs. Stirling.
For her home she wanted someone who could do everything in a house. She
thought I would be too young to be left when she went away. However, if
I wanted to come to Glasgow she promised to do what she could for me,
and then I would be nearer to my friends. It cheered me to know that. I
had still three months to stop with Mrs. Macblean. I was taught to work
and be handy and tidy, but I did not like the idea of being in a tavern.
Mrs. Stirling advised me not to engage for another term, but to go to
Colonel Cathcart's, if I wished to live in Ayrshire. I had no fault to
find with Mr. or Mrs. Macblean. They were kind and good to me.
The warm, bright weather continued nearly all the time. Mrs. Macblean
and I had long walks all round in the evenings. If anyone was met whom
she knew there was only a brief, respectful salutation and she passed
on. I am quite sure she was a lady, and she was beautiful.
We had no garden, not so much as a pot-plant about the place, but close
to the end of the house a good, wide burn ran under an important looking
bridge, or, as they were called, "brig." It was wide enough for two
large vehicles to pass. The roads were splendid, but the buildings were
strange. They must have been very old, and were built here and there
along the roadside. Sometimes the end of the house would face the
street, and often the side or back of the house would be next the road.
Mrs. Macblean called my attention to them, or I would not have heeded
them. The place had no pretence to the rank of a town, yet it was not
called a village. There were two churches and a school. I took notice
that, even if it were a tavern, the minister came and asked the lady to
let me come to the Sunday-school, and I went to church with Mrs.
Macblean. I never went to Sunday-school or Bible-class all the time I
was in Glasgow.
What with being healthy and strong, I began to take a bright and hopeful
view of life from every point. I could write a little, and was fond of
reading and knitting. It was merry and lively. There was a large room
upstairs, where one evening every week meetings were held of some lodge.
No women went to meetings of that kind in those days, but the men seemed
to enjoy themselves. You could tell that by their laugh and song. There
was always something to make one laugh. We had a gentleman up to stop
for a few days. There was a gate which opened on some steps to go down
to the water of the burn. We used it for some household purposes, but,
as in Slamannan, the water for cooking had to be carried from the
springs. One evening the gentleman opened the gate, thinking he was
going into a garden, but he fell in the stream and was carried under the
bridge. Luckily, some men saw the accident, and rushed after him and got
him out of the water. He was nearly dead and the incident made a great
stir. He was ill for some time. There was a heavy rain once while I was
there, and it was something awful to see how the water swept along that
burn. The cattle were carried away too. I saw some sheep rolling away
under the bridge, and learned that cows were drowned also. The whole of
Dalmellington lay nicely on a flat surrounded by a group of hills and
valleys. After I had left I received a letter to say that a waterspout
had burst over the place, and that people had left their houses and had
taken their belongings to the tops of the mountains. A log of wood
floated into the end window of the tavern and all the rooms downstairs
were flooded. Some poor people, who lived in small houses, had their
rooms full of water.
The autumn was passing, and I thought I would not like to be at this
place in the winter. I had really no one to care what I did with my life
or where I lived. There were no Christian friendly societies for young
girls at that time. I felt the want of sympathy and approval in what I
did. I saw the housekeeper at Colonel Cathcart's, and hoped when I was a
grown woman to return there. I was old enough to admire the lovely
scenery, but not old enough to disbelieve in witches and warlocks and
fairies. Ayrshire is so full of glens and caves that I expected to see
natural wonders, and not the work of man, for the imagination runs riot
at times.
Gipsies I saw in plenty, and was afraid of them. They did not live in
houses, but only in the wood; quite large numbers of them all together,
and there were children, young girls, and youths who had never lived in
a house. They came and went at will, and nobody seemed to take any
notice of them. They were travelling tinkers. They made tinware, and
sold it as they went through. The older women would come about to tell
fortunes, and they would steal fowls or anything else they could lay
hands on. The farmers always lost sheep and lambs when the gipsies were
about, while one heard tales of them stealing away children of the
high-class people.
I LEAVE AYRSHIRE.
It was the end of October when I left Ayrshire, and Mrs. Macblean's son
had not come. I know she was grieving acutely about him. I promised that
I would go and see him again when I returned to my own people. I found
myself in Glasgow, and left my box at the station, and paid a penny for
a ticket, for which they agreed to keep my box till I came for it. I saw
Mrs. Stirling, and stopped there all night, and read the paper with a
long column of advertisements for all sorts of working-girls. One, she
thought, I might enquire about. It was from a lady and gentleman at No.
5, Florence-place, who wanted a young country girl, who must be useful.
So I went. I found it was a furnished flat in a stylish part of the
city. I told the lady that I had come from Dalmellington the day before,
and that Mrs. Stirling would speak for me. I was engaged to come that
evening. They only intended to stay in Glasgow for three months, but I
thought I could get something else at the end of that time. They seemed
rich people, but were in trouble. Their name was Skirven. They had one
daughter at home. I was not long there before I learned that it was
through another daughter that they came from their home in Fifeshire.
The youngest daughter, while going to boarding-school, fell in love with
a young medical student. She ran away with him and got married, and came
to Glasgow. He was a Roman Catholic and an Irishman, while her parents
were Scotch. As they were married by a Catholic priest, Mr. Skirven said
it was no marriage. That is what brought him to Glasgow. He came to find
those two runaways, and to make them get married again in their church.
Mr. Skirven had his gun loaded to shoot the young doctor if he objected.
His name was Dr. Reily. They found the young lady and took her to
Florence-place, and the doctor was not allowed to come near her. It
seemed so sad. She was a pretty little lady, and so young. A strict
watch was kept on her, and she saw nobody. She soon found that she could
trust me with a letter, and many times a letter came for her in my name
from the husband. I even saw him, and brought messages to her from him.
He was waiting for his diploma, and he had a good practice in view. Then
he intended to show that they could not keep his wife from him. It was
my first experience of the fact that love can destroy happiness.
I never knew how matters were fixed up, but the old folks went back to
Fife, and I got another place as under-nurse with Dr. Fargus, in
Elmbank-street, off Sauchihall-street, Glasgow, close to where I had
been living. Dr. Fargus was eminent in his profession as a medical man,
and of great distinction. And his wife--How can I write about that
gentle lady? It was a Christian home, and well appointed. The nurse had
been with them ever since they had got married, and there were three
children. It was a large, new house, four storeys high, with everything
up to date, and so convenient. There was no carrying water, for both hot
and cold water were in all the rooms, and there were bathrooms right up
to the top, where the nurseries were. The lady's mother had died a week
before I went there. There were other servants, and we all had
mourning, a dressmaker being in the house. I had a black-and-white
print, and a black stuff dress, with a cape and hat to match, because I
had to go out so much with the children and the nurses. We were well
looked after, both as regards our bedrooms and our food. And there was a
whole pew for us in a church in Cudoging-street, not far from the Clyde.
They had a summer residence, about seven miles from Glasgow, and a man
and his wife to keep it always ready for them. The children were all
small, and if the doctor thought they wanted a change, the nurse and I
very often went to this old castle, some of which was in ruins, but
there was plenty of room for us and lovely grounds for us to romp about
in. The lady would come sometimes and stop for a few days. The locality
was Eastkillbride. There was no railway. On the way we passed through
the very old towns of Rutherglen and Hamilton. All along near at hand I
could see the coal-pits, like Slamannan. But there were none at
Eastkillbride. The doctor would sometimes bring his wife in his
carriage, or in the omnibus, the only way of conveying passengers to
that part. She was kind to the poor and the sick. There were no district
nurses heard of then. Every day she took some broths and dainties to
those who needed them. One poor woman appealed to me. She was in bed for
seven years with rheumatism. She had the use partly of the right hand
and that was all. I often went when I could, and tried to do something
for Mrs. Kennedy. If Mrs. Fargus was not there the nurse looked after
her poor pensioners all the same. The houses were spread about with
quite a distance between. There was no interesting scenery, but only an
old ruin.
DR. DYKES, DR. GUTHRIE, AND DR. MACLEOD.
Close by there was a church with a manse. It seemed out of keeping with
all the rest of the place, for it looked new. It had an air of freshness
about it, and belonged to the Free Church of Scotland. The minister was
quite a young man and a friend of Mr. and Mrs. Fargus. He came much to
the house, and the children knew him, so that we often found him
rambling about with them. His housekeeper used to be his nurse when he
was a child. We went to the manse often. The minister was the Rev. Dr.
James Oswald Dykes, and he came out to Australia many years ago. The
church in Eastkillbride was his first appointment. His fame as a
preacher and a good man spread all about. The way he filled that church
with the scattered people was wonderful. He would go miles and miles
after parishioners. He had a persuasiveness in his preaching, although
it was homely and plain. I went to the Bible-class, and he explained
things to me of which I was formerly ignorant. After months of
catechising I became a member of the Free Church of Scotland. It gave me
thoughts which enabled me to resolve to do the common things I had to do
well, and to be happy in doing what was right.