GLASGOW.
"All out for Glasgow," was the cry, so out we tumbled.
I made my way out of the station and soon found myself upon the street,
where I stood perplexed and bewildered. It seemed to me I had landed in
some other world. Everything was so different--the houses, the stores,
the streets, the sidewalks, the driveways, the people, the vehicles, the
dogs, the horses, the skies, the clouds, everything. How or where will
I begin to describe these things? I have a pretty big contract on my
hands, one that I am unequal to. I had never seen so many Scotch people
in a bunch before and had no idea there were so many alive. There were
thousands of them, tens of thousands of them. If Glasgow hasn't got a
million of people then I miss my guess sadly. Scotchmen till you can't
rest, anywhere and everywhere. Even the names on all the stores were
Scotch. There was MacPherson and Blair, MacTevish, MacDonald, Brown,
Alexander, MacFeely. Shetland ponies came trotting by that were about
knee-high to a grasshopper and though so small they dragged after them
carriages in which were seated grown persons. Why, a grown man could
have picked up pony, rig and all, and carried them. I felt like telling
the people in those rigs to get out and walk, and not disgrace
themselves by making such a little creature in the shape of a horse drag
them about. Oh, my! Oh, my! What queer things a fellow can see.
Here came a two-wheeled cart clattering along which was hauled by a
melancholy-looking little donkey and it was called a "sweet-milk cart."
I kept my eyes peeled to see if a "sour-milk" cart would come along, but
I didn't see any.
They designate their stores in a curious way. A butcher shop is called a
"flesher's," a furnishing goods store is called a "haberdashery," a dry
goods store a "draper's," etc., etc.
Say, pardner, pinch me, will you? I wonder whether I am alive.
By this time I had stopped gazing standing still, and walked along, for
the people were getting on to the fact that I was a greenhorn. My dress
and appearance, and the way I stared gave me away. As I walked along
unsteadily, still feeling that the ship was under me, I saw things. The
houses were of gray stone several stories in height, with tall chimney
tiles on top all in a cluster; stores on the ground floor and dwellings
overhead. Nearly all of them had mansard roofs. They were nearly all
alike and their exterior seemed plain and dull to me. But the stores
riveted and held my attention. They were rather dingy, but the show
windows were fitted up fine. Here was a fish store in the window of
which were displayed salmon, grilse, lemons, plaice, megrins, haddock,
cod, herrings; labels upon the platters designating what they were. In a
candy store I saw toffie balls, chocolate bouncers, pomfret cakes, voice
pastiles, and frosty nailrods. I laughed and wondered if they had any
railroad spikes and rails. Frosty nailrods and bouncers, hey! Well, I
was getting a pretty good show for my money. I looked into a tobacco
store and there I saw a vast array of cigars, tobacco and smokers'
articles. The brands of tobacco had curious names, such as Baillie Nicol
Jarvey, Starboard Navy, Tam O'Shanter, Aromatic Mixture, English
Birdseye and many others. The tobacco and cigars were dear, tobacco
being eight cents an ounce, and funny-looking cigars four cents each. In
the clothing store windows I noticed clothes made of excellent cloth in
all varieties, that sold for eight and ten dollars the suit. They were
fine and made me feel sad, for I hadn't the price to buy one, though I
needed a suit badly. Shoes, too, were cheap and good. The windows of all
the stores were heaped to profusion with goods, and it seemed to me
there was more stock in the windows than there was in the stores. The
wares were displayed very temptingly with a price tag on everything. The
jewelry displayed was more than tasteful, I thought; I wanted a few
diamonds awful bad.
I wandered along Argyle street, which seemed a broad and busy
thoroughfare. The sidewalks were jammed and so was the roadway. I
sauntered along slowly, taking in the circus, for it was better than a
circus to me. It was a continuous performance. Lots of people gazed at
me, nudged each other and made remarks, but I couldn't catch what they
said. Probably they took me for some animal that had escaped from a
menagerie. I wasn't caring, though, what they thought. I was having as
much fun out of them as they were having out of me. I saw so many queer
sights that I couldn't describe a tithe of them. Many fine people drove
by in fine rigs, and some of these wealthy ones were probably out on
shopping expeditions. There were grand ladies and gentlemen in
multitudes, and I figured it out that wealth and nobility must be pretty
prevalent in Scotland. Many of the ladies were beauties of the blond
type and the gentlemen were well-dressed and elegant in appearance. They
carried themselves nobly and proudly and seemed stern yet manly. The
ladies surely were engaging and I noticed several of them alight from
moving street cars gracefully. They didn't wait for the car to stop, but
swung off, alighting in the right direction every time. Had they been
American ladies it is more than likely they would have landed on top of
their heads. The Glasgow ladies have mastered the trick, all right, and
mastered it well, for you can't down them, nohow.
As I sauntered along slowly, two young girls came along with plaid
shawls thrown over their shoulders and when they got near me one of the
girls collapsed and fell on the sidewalk. None of the crowd stopped,
whereat I wondered, but I stopped to see what the trouble was. If the
girl wasn't as full as a goat you may smother me. She must have been
imbibing too much hot Scotch. The girl was in her teens, and quite
pretty, and so was her companion. I felt sorry that so young and pretty
a girl would make a spectacle of herself, so I strode up and asked if I
could be of any assistance. The fallen one glared at me and the one
standing on her feet trying to help her companion stared at me. My
American accent may have been too much for her for she made no reply. I
remained standing there, whereupon the sober one got angry and turned on
me with the remark: "Did yer never see ah lassie fou?"
From her indignant tones and manner I saw that she was huffy, so I made
tracks in a hurry, for I wasn't looking for trouble.
After seeing as much as I wanted to of Argyle Street, I walked toward
the embankment of the Clyde River, which I could see not far away, and
had a look at the shipping. The ships were as curious to me as
everything else I saw in Glasgow, for they were distinctly
foreign-looking and odd. Glasgow seemed a great port, for there were
ships of all nations there. The banks along the water front were high
and walled up with stone, forming fine promenades. Quite a number of
very fine bridges spanned the stream and they must have cost a lot of
money. They were of stone, iron and wood, and were equal to structures
of their kind anywhere. I noticed that the water was of a dark chocolate
color, which means--mud. The stream isn't very broad, but it is deep. I
was speaking of the vessels! Well, they took my time. I had read of low,
black-hulled, rakish crafts in pirate stories and these looked like
them. Wonder if they were pirates? I didn't go aboard any of them to
investigate.
Along the water front street opposite the embankment were hotels,
stores, lodging-houses, ship-outfitting establishments, taverns, inns,
and all manner of places catering to seafaring men. All of them seemed
curiosity shops to me. My little pen isn't able to describe them.
What's the use of trying?
I came upon a spot called for short and sweet "The Broomielaw," which
was a section of the water front given up to the landing of "up-country"
steamboats, which came down the various lochs, rivers, bays, "the
Minch," and other waters of northern Scotland, and it was more than
interesting to observe the little steamers when they came in. They were
laden with cattle and people from the Highlands and elsewhere, and with
produce and merchandise. Many of the people were dressed in togs that I
never saw outside of a comic opera show and when cattle were unloaded
from these long, narrow piratical-looking craft I had more fun watching
them than I ever had in my life before. The cattle were mostly black
like the ships, and a whole lot of tail-twisting and Scotch language had
to be used before they would take the hint and go ashore. They didn't
like the looks of things and bucked. The sights of the city bewildered
them, no doubt, for they were used to quieter scenes. The cowboys had
on Tam O'Shanter caps and wore not describable togs. They punched the
cattle, twisted their tails and shouted words that the cattle maybe
could understand, but I couldn't. Highland Scotch was too high for my
nut.
Excursion boats came to the Broomielaw and dumped their passengers on
the landing from the Harris, Skye, Stormaway, Fladda, the Dutchman and
all the other places so renowned in Scottish stories. After dumping one
lot of passengers and freight they took another load back to the same
places. Had I had the price I would have gone up country sure, for there
are a whole lot of things to be seen up that way. But by this time it
was nearing noon and I was getting hungry, so I concluded that a good,
square meal would do me good. The Broomielaw and the other places
weren't going to run away, and I would have plenty of opportunities of
seeing them.