A NIGHT UNDER THE LOGS.
The next day arrived. His father came home from his work for the purpose of taking the boy to school; but Tom had disappeared. He would not go back. He went first to the fish-market, where he spent the greater part of the day. Then he went down to the Inches. From thence he went towards the logs, andwhilst there with a few more boys preparing sparrow-traps, one of them called out “Tam, there’s yer faither!” Tom immediately got up, and ran away; his father, following him, called out “Stop, sir! stop, sir! come back, come back, will you!” Tom’s father was a long slender man, and could not stand much running. He soon dropt behind, while Tom went out Deeside way like a lamplighter. He never stopped until he reached the Clayholes. Not seeing his father following him, he loitered about there until it was nearly dark; he then returned, keeping a close look-out and ready to run off again. At length, about dark, he got back to the logs.
It must be mentioned that on the spare ground above the Inches large piles of logs were laid, some of them of great size. The logs were floated down the Dee, and were laid there until the timber merchants found it convenient to take them away. Little care being exercised in putting up the piles, there were often large openings left at the ends. Instead of going home, the boy got into one of these openings, and crept in as far as he could get. But though he was in a measure out of sight, he soon found that he could obtain very little shelter for the night. He was barefooted, and his clothes were thin and raggy. The wind blew through the logs, and he soon became very cold. He shivered till his teeth chattered. The squeaking and jumping of the rats, of whom there seemed to be myriads, kept him awake. It was sodifferent from being snug in his warm bed, that he once thought of getting out of his hole and running home. But he was terrified to do that, and thus encounter his father’s strap,—his back being still so sore from the effects of his flogging at school. The cold continued to increase, especially towards the small hours of the morning. Indeed, he never experienced so bitterly cold a night in the whole course of his life.
A FRUITLESS SEARCH.
At length morning began to dawn. The first streaks of light were tinging the eastern sky, when Tom prepared to get out of his hole and have a run in the open ground to warm himself. He was creeping out of the logs for the purpose, when in the dim morning light he thought he saw the figure of a man. Yes! it was his father. He saw him moving about, among the sawpits, the logs, and the piles of wood. Tom crept farther into his hole among the logs; and on looking out again, he found his father had disappeared. Half-an-hour later he appeared again; and after going over the former ground, he proceeded in the direction of the Inches. In a few minutes he descended to the channel, doubtless with the intention of crossing, as the tide was out at the time.
EDWARD’S RETURN HOME.
Now, thought Tom, is my opportunity. He crept out of his hole, went round the farther end of the logs, up Lower Dee Street, past the carpet-weaver’s, up Carmelite Street, and then home. Just as he reached the top of the stair, Mrs. Kelman, the kindly“neibour,” who had been kept up all night by the troubles of the Edward family, took him by the collar, and said, “Eh, laddie, ye hae gien yer folk a sair nicht o’t! But bide a wee, I’ll gang in wi’ ye!” As she entered the door, she exclaimed, “Here he’s again, Maggie, a’ safe!” “Oh, ye vagaboon,” said the mother, “where hae ye been a’ nicht? Yer faither’s oot seekin’ ye. I wonder how I can keep my hands aff ye.” “No, no, Maggie,” said Mrs. Kelman, “ye winna do that. But I’ll tell ye what ye’ll do. Gie him some meat, and let him get to his bed as fast as he can.” “His bed?” said his mother, “he shanna bed here till his faither comes in.” “Just gie him something, Maggie, and get him oot o’ the road.” After some parleying, Tom got something to eat, and was in bed, with the blankets over him, before his father returned.
“Weel, John,” said Mrs. Kelman, “ye hinna gotten him?” “No.” “Ye hinna gaun to the right place!” “The right place!” said John, “who on earth could tell the right place for such a wandering Jew as he is?” “Weel, I’ve got him.” “Where?” “At the head o’ the stair!” “And where is he now?” “Where he should be.” “That’s in Bridewell!” “No, no, John, dinna say that.” “Where, then?” “In his bed.” “What! here? And before I have paid him for his night’s work?” “Now, John, just sit doun and hae a cup o’ tea wi’ Maggie and me before you go to your wark; and if ye hae onything to say to theladdie, ye can say it when he gets up.” “You always take his part, Mrs. Kelman, always!”
Tom lay quaking in bed. He heard all that was said. He peeped out of the blankets; but when he saw his father sit down, he knew that all was safe. And when he had his friendly cup o’ tea, and went to his work, Tom fell fast asleep. He did not awake until midday, when his father returned to dinner. Being observed to move in his bed, his father ordered him to get up. This set him a-crying, and he exclaimed that “he wudna gang back to yon school.” His mother now asked the reason why he was so bitter against going to “yon school.” He then told them how he had been treated by the master, and how his back was sore yet.
RESULTS OF HIS PUNISHMENT.
His back was then looked at, and it was found that his shirt was hard with clotted blood, and still sticking to his skin. The wales extended right down to his legs. Means were adopted to soften the shirt and remove it from the skin. But while that was being done, the boy fell back and fainted away. On coming to himself, he found his mother bathing his brow with cold water, and Mrs. Kelman holding a smelling-bottle to his nose, which made his eyes run with water. A large piece of linen, covered with ointment, was then put upon his back. His father went away, ordering him to keep the house, and not to go out that day.
Whatever may have passed between his parentshe did not know. He was in bed and asleep when his father returned at night. But he was never asked to return to the Lancaster school.
landscapeAULTEN LINKS, ABERDEEN.
AULTEN LINKS, ABERDEEN.
THE AULTEN LINKS.
He had now plenty of time for excursions into the country. He wandered up the Dee and along the banks of the Don on both sides. He took long walks along shore,—across the Aulten Links to the Auld Brig,—and even up to the mountains, which at Aberdeen approach pretty near to the coast.
HUNT AFTER AN ADDER.
During one of his excursions on the hills of Torrie, near the commencement of the Grampians, while looking for blaeberries and crawberries, Edward saw something like the flash of an eel gliding through amongst the heather. He rushed after it, and pounceddown upon it with both hands, but the animal had escaped. He began to tear up the heather, in order to get at it. His face streamed with perspiration. He rested for a time, and then began again. Still there was no animal, nor a shadow of one.
At this time another boy came up, and asked, “What are ye doing there?” “Naething.” “D’ye call that naething?” pointing to about a cart-load of heather torn up. “Have ye lost onything?” “No.” “What are ye looking for then?” “For something like an eel!” “An eel!” quoth the lad; “do ye think ye’ll find an eel amang heather? It’s been anadder, and it’s well ye havena gotten it. The beast might have bitten ye to death.” “No fear o’ that,” said Edward. “How long is it sin’ ye saw it?” “Some minutes.” “If that’s the case, it may be some miles up the hills by this time. Which way was it gaun?” “That way.” “Well,” said the lad, “you see that heap o’ stones up there? try them, and if you do not find it there, you may gang hame and come back again, and then ye’ll just be as near finding it as ye are now.” “Will ye help me?” asked Edward. “Na faith, I dinna want to be bitten to death.” And so saying, he went away.
Edward then proceeded to the pile of stones which had been pointed out, to make a search for the animal. He took stone after stone off the heap, and still there was no eel. There were plenty of worms and insects, but these he did not want. A littlebeyond the stones lay a large piece of turf. He turned it over, and there the creature was! He was down upon it in an instant, and had it in his hand! He looked at the beast. It was not an eel. It was very like an asp, but it was six or seven times longer.
TAKES HOME THE ADDER.
Having tightened his grip of the beast, for it was trying to wriggle out of his hand, he set out for home. He struck the Dee a little below where the Chain Bridge now stands, reaching the ford opposite Dee village, and prepared to cross it. But the water being rather deep at the time, he had to strip and wade across, carrying his clothes in one hand and the “eel” in the other. He had only one available hand, so that getting off and on his clothes, and wading the river breast high, occupied some time.
On reaching the top of Carmelite Street, he observed his mother, Mrs. Kelman, and some other women, standing together at the street door. He rushed in amongst them with great glee, and holding up his hand, exclaimed, “See, mother, sic a bonnie beastie I’ve gotten.” On looking at the object he held in his hand, the conclave of women speedily scattered. They flew in all directions. Edward’s mother screamed, “The Lord preserv’s! what the sorrow’s that ye hae noo?” “Oh, Meggy, Meggy,” said Mrs. Kelman, “it’s a snake! Dinna let him in! For ony sake dinna let him in, or we’ll a’ be bitten.” The entry door was then shut and bolted, and Tom was left out with the beast in his hand.
Mrs. Kelman’s husband then made his appearance. “What’s this, Tam, that has caused such a flutter amongst the wives?” “Only this bit beastie.” Kelman started back. “What, has it not bitten you?” “No!” “Well,” he added, “the best thing you can do with it, is to take it to Dr. Ferguson as fast as you can, for you can’t be allowed to bring it in here.”
Dr. Ferguson kept a druggist’s shop at the corner of Correction Wynd, near the head of the Green. He had a number of creatures suspended in glass jars in his window. Boys looked in at these wonderful things. They were the admiration of the neighbours. Some said that these extraordinary things had come from people’s “insides.” Tom had often been there before with big grubs, piebald snails, dragonflies, and yellow puddocks. So he went to Dr. Ferguson with his last new prize.
THE ADDER SOLD.
He was by this time surrounded by a number of boys like himself. They kept, however, at a respectable distance. When he moved in their direction, they made a general stampede. At length he arrived at the Doctor’s door. When the Doctor saw the wriggling thing that he was holding in his hand, he ordered him out of the shop, and told him to wait in the middle of the street until he had got a bottle ready for the reception of the animal. Tom waited until the bottle was ready, when he was told that when he had gotten the snake in, he must cork thebottle as firmly as possible. The adder was safely got in and handed to the Doctor, who gave Tom fourpence for the treasure. Next day it appeared in the window, to the general admiration of the inhabitants.
TOM’S REWARD.
Tom hastened home with his fourpence. On entering the house he encountered his father, who seized him by the neck, and asked, “Where’s that venomous beast that you had?” “I left it with Dr. Ferguson.” “But have you no more?” “No.” “That’s very strange! You seldom come home with so few things about you. But we shall see.” The boy was then taken into the back yard, where he was ordered to strip. Every bit of clothing was shaken, examined, and searched; the father standing by with a stick. Nothing was found, and Tom was allowed to put on his clothes and go up stairs to bed.
Theboy was learning idle habits. He refused to go back to the Lancaster school. Indeed, from the cruel treatment he had received there, his parents did not ask him to return. He had now been expelled from three schools. If he went to a fourth, it is probable that he might also have been expelled from that. It would not do for him to go scouring the hills in search of adders, or to bring them home to the “terrification” of his neighbours. He himself wished to go to work. His parents at last gave their consent, though he was then only about six years old. But poor people can always find something for their children to do out of doors. The little that they earn is always found very useful at home.
TOBACCO WORKING.
Edward’s brother, who was about two years older than himself, was working at Craig and Johnston’s tobacco work. On inquiry, it was found that the firm was willing to take young Edward at the wage of fourteen-pence a week. The tobacco-spinners worked in an old house situated at the end of the flour mill in St. Nicholas Street. Each spinner had three boys under him—the wheeler, the pointer, andthe stripper. Edward went through all these grades. As a stripper he could earn about eighteen-pence a week.
bridge in snow sceneTHE BRIG O’ BALGOWNIE.
THE BRIG O’ BALGOWNIE.
The master was a bird-fancier, so that Edward got on very well with him. The boy brought him lots of nests and young birds in summer, and old birds which he trapped during winter. The master allowed him to keep rabbits in the back yard; so that, what between working and playing, attending to his rabbits and catering for their food, his time passed much more happily than it had done at school.
After being in the tobacco work for about two years, Edward heard that boys were getting great wages at a factory at Grandholm, situated on the river Don, about two miles from Aberdeen. The high wages were a great attraction. Tom and his brother took the advantage of a fast-day to go to the mill and ask for employment. The manager told the boys that he wanted no additional hands at that time, but that he would put their names down and let them know when he required their services.
They returned and told their parents what they had done. Both father and mother were against the change, partly because of Tom’s youth, and partly because of the distance Grandholm was from Aberdeen. Tom, however, insisted that he could both work and walk; and at last his parents gave their consent.
landscape: river with church in backgroundTHE SPIRES OF ST. MACHAR.
THE SPIRES OF ST. MACHAR.
BANKS OF THE DON.
There was another reason besides the high wages which induced Tom to wish to be employed at Grandholm. He kept this to himself. He had often seenthe place before, though only at a distance. But who that has seen the banks and braes of the Don, from the Auld Brig[17]to the Haughs of Grandholm, can ever forget it? Looking down from the heights above the Brig of Balgownie, you see the high broad archthrown across the deep and dark winding Don. Beneath you, the fishermen are observed hauling to the shore their salmon nets. Westward of the Auld Brig the river meanders amongst the bold bluff banks, clothed to the summit with thick embowered wood. Two or three miles above are the Haughs, from which a fine view of the Don is obtained, with the high wood-covered bank beyond it; and, over all, the summits of the spires of St. Machar, the cathedral church of Old Aberdeen.
AT GRANDHOLM MILLS.
It was to roam through these woods and amidst this beautiful scenery, that young Edward so much desired to be employed at the Grandholm factory. Nor was he disappointed in his expectations. Scarcely three days had elapsed ere a letter arrived at the Edwards’ house, informing both the boys that they would be employed at the mill at the usual wages. The hours were to be from six o’clock in the morning till eight o’clock in the evening.
The boys had accordingly to be up by about four in the morning, after which they had to get their breakfast and to walk two miles to their work. They were seldom home at night before nine. It was delightful in summer, but dreary in winter, when they went and came in the cold dark nights and mornings. The wages of the boys were at first from three to four shillings a week each, and before they left the mill their wages were from five to six shillings a week.
FACTORY WORK.
The boys were first put into the heckling shop.They were next transferred to a small mill at the end of the larger one. Young Edward worked there. His business was to attend at the back of a braker,—to take away the cases when they were full, and put empty ones in their places. He was next set to attend two carding-machines; and from these to the roving or spinning side, three of which he frequently kept before he left. This was the highest work done in that room.
“People may say of factories what they please,” says Edward, “but I liked this factory. It was a happy time for me whilst I remained there. It was situated in the centre of a beautiful valley, almost embowered amongst tall and luxuriant hedges of hawthorn, with watercourses and shadowy trees between, and large woods and plantations beyond. It teemed with nature and natural objects. The woods were easy of access during our meal-hours. What lots of nests! What insects, wild flowers, and plants, the like of which I had never seen before! Prominent amongst the birds was the Sedge Warbler,[18]which lay concealed in the reedy copses, or by the margin of the mill-lades. Oh! how I wondered at the little thing; how it contrived to imitate almost all the other birds I had ever heard, and none to greater perfection than the chirrup of my old and special favourite the sparrow.”
THE KINGFISHER.
One day he saw a Kingfisher—a great event in his life! What a beautiful bird! What a sparkling gem of nature! Resplendent in plumage and gorgeous in colour—from the bright turquoise blue to the deepest green, and the darker shades of copper and gold. Edward was on a nesting excursion, with some little fellows like himself, along the braes of the Don, and at some distance above the Auld Brig, when he first saw this lustrous bird. “I was greatly taken,” he says, “with its extraordinary beauty, and much excited by seeing it dive into the stream. I thought it would drown itself, and that its feathers would eventually become so clogged with water that it would not be able to fly. Had this happened—which, of course, it did not—my intention was to have plunged in to the rescue, when, as a matter of course, I would have claimed the prize as my reward. Thus buoyed up, I wandered up and down the river after the bird, until the shades of even came down and forced me to give up the pursuit; and I then discovered, having continued the chase so long, that I was companionless, and had to return home alone.
COUNTRY RAMBLES.
“It so happened, that for a month or two during summer-time, owing to the scarcity of water, one part of the factory worked during the night-time and the other during the day-time, week and week about. This was a glorious time for me. I rejoiced particularly in the night work. We got out at six in themorning, and, instead of going directly home, I used to go up to the woods of Scotston and Scotston Moor, scoured the country round them, and then returned home by the Auld Brig. Another day I would go up to Buxburn, range the woods and places about them, and then home by Hilton or Woodside. Or again, after having crossed Grandholm Bridge, instead of going up by Lausie Hillock, I went away down Don side, by Tillydrone, the Aulten (Old Aberdeen), through the fields to the Aulten links, whipped the whins there, then over the Broad hill, and home by Constitution Street. I would reach it, perhaps, about dinner-time, instead of at seven in the morning, although I had to be back at the mill again by eight o’clock at night.
“Once, on a Saturday, after having visited Buxburn, I went round by the back of the Dancing Cairns to the Stocket and the woods of Hazelhead, then down the Rubislaw road, and home in the evening. Ah! these were happy days. There were no taws to fear, and no tyrannical dominie to lay them on. True, the farm people did halloo at me at times, but I generally showed them a clean pair of heels. The gamekeepers, also, sometimes gave me chase, but I managed to outstrip them; and although no nests were to be got, there was always something to be found or seen. In winter-time, also, when the canal was frozen, a mile of it lay in our way home, and it was capital fun to slide along,going to and coming from our work. This was life, genuine life, for the young. But, alas! a sad change was about to come; and it came very soon.”
APPRENTICED TO A SHOEMAKER.
The boys remained at Grandholm factory for about two years. Their father thought that they ought both to be apprenticed to some settled trade. The eldest boy left first, and was apprenticed to a baker; then Tom, the youngest, left, very much to his regret, and was bound apprentice to a shoemaker. He was eleven years old at that time. His apprenticeship was to last for six years. His wages began at eighteenpence a week, with sixpence to be added weekly in each succeeding year. He was to be provided by his master with shoes and aprons. The hours were to be from six in the morning to nine at night,—two hours being allowed for meals.
CHARLES BEGG.
The name of Edward’s master was Charles Begg. His shop was situated at the highest part of Gallowgate. He usually employed from two to three workmen. His trade consisted chiefly in manufacturing work of the lightest description, such as ladies’ and children’s boots and shoes. He himself worked principally at pump-making, and that was the branch of the trade which young Edward was taught.
Begg was a low-class Cockney. He was born in London, where he learnt the trade of shoemaking. He had gradually wandered northwards, until he reached Inverness, where he lived for some time. Then he went eastward to Elgin, then to Banff, untilat last he arrived at Aberdeen, where he married and settled. Begg was a good workman; though, apart from shoemaking, he knew next to nothing. It is well, however, to be a good workman, if one does his work thoroughly and faithfully. The only things that Begg could do, besides shoemaking, were drinking and fighting. He was a great friend of pugilism; though his principal difficulty, when he got drunk, was to find anybody to fight with in that pacific neighbourhood.
store front with pass-throughCHARLES BEGG’S SHOP, GALLOWGATE.
CHARLES BEGG’S SHOP, GALLOWGATE.
It was a great misfortune for the boy to have been placed under the charge of so dissolute a vagabond. He had, however, to do his best. He learnt to make pumps and cut uppers, and proceeded to make shoe-bottoms. He would, doubtless, have learnt his trade very well, but for the drunkenness of his master, who was evidently going headlong to ruin. He was very often absent from the shop, and when customers called, Edward wassent out by his mistress to search the public-houses frequented by Begg; but when found, he was usually intoxicated. The customers would not return, and the business consequently fell off. When drunk, Begg raved and swore; and after beating the boy in the shop, he would go up-stairs and beat his wife.
SHOEMAKERS’ PETS.
Shoemakers are usually very fond of pets, and especially of pet birds. Many of the craft have singing-birds about them, and some are known to be highly-skilled and excellent bird-fanciers. But Begg had no notion of pets of any kind. He had no love whatever for the works of nature, and detested those who had. Edward had been born with the love of birds and living creatures, and Begg hated him accordingly. Begg used to rifle his pockets on entering the shop, to see that Edward had nothing of the kind about him. If he found anything he threw it into the street,—his little boxes with butterflies, eggs, and such like. Many a blow did he give Edward on such occasions. He used to say that he would “stamp the fool out of him;” but he tried in vain.
BEGG’S BRUTALITY.
One afternoon, when Edward had finished his work, and was waiting for the return of his master in order to go to dinner, he was sitting with a sparrow on his knee. It was a young sparrow which he had trained and taught to do a number of little tricks. It was his pet, and he loved it dearly. While he was putting the sparrow through its movements, the master entered. He was three parts drunk. On looking at the birdon Edward’s knee, he advanced, and struck Edward such a blow that it laid him flat on the floor. The bird had fluttered to the ground, and was trampled on.
When Edward was about to rise, he saw that Begg was going to kick him. Raising up his arm to ward off the blow, Begg’s foot came in contact with it, and, losing his balance, he reeled, staggered against the wall, and fell backwards. He gathered himself together and got up. If angry before, he was furious now. Edward, seeing that he was again about to resume his brutality, called out that he would shout for help, and that he wouldn’t be struck again without a cause! “Without a cause, you idle blackguard! sitting playing with some of your devils instead of doing my work!” “I had no work; it was done three hours ago, and I was waiting to go to my dinner.” “It’s not near dinner time yet.” “It’s four o’clock!” “I didn’t know it was so late; well, you may go!”
Tom seized the opportunity of picking up his poor and innocent bird from the floor. He found it was still breathing. He put it tenderly in his bosom and hastened homewards. His mother was not surprised at his lateness, which was very usual, in consequence of the irregularity of his master’s hours. “But what’s the matter wi’ ye?” she said; “your face is bleedin’, and ye hae been greetin’.” “Look,” said he, taking the harmless and now lifeless bird from his breast, and holding it up,—“that would gar onybody greet;” and his tears fell on the mangled body of hislittle pet. “I wouldn’t have cared so much for myself,” he said, “if he had only spared my bird!” Then he told his mother all that had happened, and he added that if Begg struck him again without a cause, he would certainly run away. She strongly remonstrated against this; because, being bound apprentice for six years, he must serve out his time, come what would.
EDWARD’S PETS KILLED.
On returning to the shoemaker’s shop in the afternoon, Edward was met at the door by his master, who first shook him and then searched him. But finding there was nothing about him, he was allowed to go to his seat. And thus three years passed. The boy learnt something of his trade. The man went on from bad to worse. In his drunken fits he often abused and thrashed his apprentice. At last the climax came. One day Edward brought three young moles to the shop. The moles were safely ensconced in his bonnet. When Begg found the moles he killed them at once, knocked down Edward with a last, seized him by the neck and breast, dragged him to the door, and with a horrible imprecation threw him into the street. Edward was a good deal hurt; but he went home, determined that from that day he would never again serve under such a brute.
Begg called at his mother’s next day, and ordered the boy to return to his work. Edward refused. Begg then invoked the terrors of the law. “He would compel Edward to fulfil his apprenticeship. He would prosecute his father and his two sureties, andmake them pay the penalty for breaking the boy’s indenture.” This threat gave Edward’s mother a terrible fright, especially when her boy insisted that he would not go back. The family were left in fear and commotion for some time. But at last, as nothing further was heard of the threatened prosecution, they dismissed it from their minds.
WISHES TO BE A SAILOR.
What was Edward to do next? He was thoroughly sick of his trade, and wished to engage in some other occupation that would leave him freer to move about. He would be a sailor! He had a great longing to see foreign countries, and he thought that the best way of accomplishing this object was to become a sailor. On mentioning the matter to his parents, he was met with a determined and decided refusal. They tried to dissuade him by various methods. “Man,” said his father to him, “do you know that sailors have only a thin plank between them and death? Na, na! If you’re no gaun back to Begg, you must find some other master, and serve out your time. Bide ye at the shoemaker trade, and if ye can make siller at it, ye can then gang and see as mony countries as ye like!”
OFFERS HIMSELF AS CABIN BOY.
Such was his father’s advice, but it did not suit young Edward’s views. He wanted to be a sailor. He went down to the harbour, and visited every ship there, in order to offer himself as a cabin boy. He asked the captains to employ him, but in vain. At last he found one captain willing to take him, provided hehad the consent of his father. But this he could not obtain, and therefore he gave up the idea for a time.
landscape with water in foreground and mill in backgroundGRANDHOLM MILLS
GRANDHOLM MILLS
Then he thought of running away from home. He could not get away by sea; he would now try what he could do by land. He had often heard his parents talking about the Kettle, and of his uncle who had gone in search of him to the gipsy camp. Edward thought he would like to see this uncle. He might perhaps be able to help him to get some other and better employment than that of shoemaking. His thoughts were very undefined about the matter. But he certainly would not go back to work again with Charlie Begg, the drunken shoemaker.
Atlast 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.
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.
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, wheremany 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.
landscapeRUINS OF DUNNOTTAR CASTLE.
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!”
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.
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. Hecould 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.
barren landscape, water and city in distanceDISTANT VIEW OF MONTROSE.
DISTANT VIEW OF MONTROSE.
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. Hewent 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.
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 weelfilled, 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.”
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.
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.”