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.
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.
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 hadbeen 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.
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.
ARRIVES AT ABERDEEN.
On reaching the neighbourhood of Aberdeen, hewent 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.
Insteadof going directly back to his work, Edward went down to the harbour to ascertain whether any of the captains would accept of his services as a sailor. He went from ship to ship for three days. Some captains were willing to take him with an indenture, which would have to be signed by his father. Others were willing to take him without his father’s consent; but in that case they required two sureties to sign the indenture. These were serious obstacles—too serious to be got over,—and on the third afternoon he left the harbour with a sorrowful heart. There were several skippers of coasting vessels, and of lime and coal hulks, who would have taken him for four years; but these were not the kind of ships that he wished to sail in.
Being thus forced, though very reluctantly, to give up all thoughts of going to sea, he now considered whether it might not be possible to learn some other trade less hateful to him than that of a shoemaker. But his parents would not hear of any change. They told him that his former master was willing to take him back, and to give him a shilling a week more duringthe ensuing year, and two shillings more during his last, or fifth year. But Edward strongly objected to return to the master who had so cruelly used him.
RESUMES SHOEMAKING.
Not wishing, however, to withstand his parents’ advice any longer, he at last consented to go on with his trade. But, instead of serving out his time with his former master, he found a pupil-master in Shoe Lane, who was willing to employ him, and to improve him in his business. Edward agreed to give the master, for his trouble, a percentage of his earnings, besides his pupil-money, and a share of the fire and light.
Edward’s work at this place was mostly of the lighter and smaller sort. His employer was of a much kindlier nature than the last, and he got on very well with him. Edward was also in a measure his own master. He could still look after his bird-nesting. That was his strongest attraction out of doors. He did not rob the birds of their eggs. His principal pleasure was to search for their nests, and to visit them from time to time. When the eggs were hatched, and the little birds were grown and ready to fly, he would take one or two, if they were singing birds, and rear them for himself, or for other bird-fanciers.
WILD BOTANICAL GARDEN.
It was about this time that Edward began what he called his Wild Botanical Garden. His parents had left the Green and removed to another quarter of the town. Behind the house, and behind the adjoining houses, was a piece of waste ground aboutten feet wide. It was covered with stones, bits of bricks, and broken tiles. Edward removed these from the ground, and put them in a corner by themselves, covering them with earth. He dug over the ground, manured it, and turned it over again. Then he divided the space into compartments for the reception of plants and flowers. These were brought from the fields, the woods, and the banks adjoining the Dee and the Don. He watered and tended them daily; but alas! they would not flourish as they had done on their native soil. He renewed them again and again. The rasp, the wild strawberry, the foxglove,—or dead men’s bells as it is there called,—the hemlock, some of the ferns, and many of the grasses, grew pretty well; but the prettiest and most delicate field flowers died away one by one.
His mother, who delighted in flowers, advised him to turn the ground into an ordinary garden. Now, although Edward loved garden flowers, he very much preferred those which he found in the woods or growing by the wayside, and which he had known from his infancy. Nevertheless, he took his mother’s advice; and knowing many of the places near the town, where the gardeners threw out their rubbish, he went and gathered from thence a number of roots, flowers, and plants, which he brought home and planted in his garden. The greater number of them grew very well, and in course of time he had a pleasant little garden. He never planted more thanone specimen of each flower, so that his garden was various in its beauty. The neighbours, who had at first sneered at him as a fool, on seeing his pretty garden, began to whisper that the “loon” was surely a genius, and that it was a pity that his father had not made him a gardener instead of a shoemaker. Edward himself often wished that his parents had been of the same mind as the neighbours.
Near the back of the house in which Edward lived, was an old tannery, with a number of disused tanning pits, full of water. These, he thought, would be a nice place for storing his powets and puddocks.[21]He got a large pail, went to a place where these creatures abounded, and brought back a large cargo, heaving them into the pit. But they did not thrive. They nearly all died. He next put about thirty newts there, but he never saw them again, dead or alive. At last he gave up this undertaking.
THE PICTURE SHOPS.
About the same time, he used to make a tour among the booksellers of the town, to inspect the pictures which they had in their windows. These visits proved a source of great profit and pleasure to him. He learned something from the pictures, and especially from the pictures of animals. He found that there was more to be gained from a visit to the picture shops than from a visit to the public-house. When he saw a book that he could buy, he bought it, though his means were still very small.
town with large crowd of people in the squareCASTLEGATE ON FRIDAYS.
CASTLEGATE ON FRIDAYS.
THE CASTLEGATE.
It was in this way that he became acquainted with thePenny Magazine. He bought the first number,[22]and liked it so well that he continued to take it. He especially liked those parts of it which related to natural history. Among the other publications which he bought, was one called theWeekly Visitor. It cost only a halfpenny. It had good pictures, and gave excellent stories, which were usually of a religious tendency. He read this little publication over and over again. Nor did he ever lose the opportunity of going to the Castlegate on Fridays, to see the picturesand picture books, which were usually exposed for sale on market days.
THE GUNMAKERS’ WINDOWS.
The gunmakers’ windows were also a source of attraction, for they often had stuffed birds exhibited in them. There was also a window devoted entirely to stuffed birds near the entrance to the police office in Watch Lane, and another in Meal Market Lane, both of which attracted a large share of his attention. The sight of these things first gave Edward the idea of preserving animals. The first beast he stuffed was a mole, and he was very proud of it.
The shoemaking trade having become very flat, Edward left Shoe Lane after having been there for about twenty months. He then went to work at a shop on the Lime Quay, near the harbour. He had steady work there for some time, at set wages. Though he had less time to attend to his natural history pursuits, he still managed to attend to his garden and his “family,” as his mother termed his maingie[23]of beasts. Trade again recovering, he went back to work at the old place. But this did not continue long. The men had to be paid off; and then Edward did not know what to do.
TRIES TO EMIGRATE.
At that time, emigration to America was the rage. Trade was very depressed throughout the country. There were bread riots in many of the manufacturing towns. Numbers of labourers were without work,and without the means of living. Aberdeen shared in the general depression; and many persons emigrated to the United States, where there was a better demand for labour. Edward wished to emigrate too; but he had no money. He had only a few shillings to spare. But might he not contrive to emigrate as a Stowaway?
This course is frequently adopted at the ports from which ships sail for America. A boy gets on board, conceals himself in the hold, and after the ship has got out of sight of land he makes his appearance on deck, usually half-starved. Edward determined to try this method of escaping from Aberdeen, and more especially from his shoemaking trade. He knew one of the sailors on board the ship which he had selected; and although the sailor was strongly opposed to the project, Edward prevailed upon him to make an opening in the cargo, so as to admit him into a hole near the bow of the ship. Here, amidst some boxes and coils of rope, Edward deposited three dozen biscuits and two bottles of water.
He waited outside, hovering about the quay, until the day of sailing arrived. But the ship did not sail until five days after the advertised time. When the emigrants went on board, Edward went with them. For three days and nights he lay amongst the coils of rope, feeding upon his biscuits and water. On the forenoon of the fifth day he was in his berth; and just as the vessel was about to be loosed from hermoorings, Edward’s friend came along the hold in breathless haste, and inquired (for he was in the dark) “if he was there.” “Surely,” replied Edward. “For the love of God,” said the sailor, “come out at once, and get on shore. You have time yet. Simon Grant (the town’s officer) and a lot of his sharks have come, and they are about to rummage the ship from stem to stern for runaways. So make haste, and come out; you have no chance now!”
Edward still delayed. He did not like to leave his hole. But hearing an unusual commotion going on, amidst a great deal of angry speaking, and fearing the worst, he at last very unwillingly crept from his berth, went on deck, and leapt on shore just as the ship was leaving the quay. He afterwards learnt that the town’s officer was in search of another class of stowaways, who, it seems, had been carried on board in boxes or barrels. Edward found that he could not see the world after this method; and he returned home defeated and mortified.
ABERDEENSHIRE MILITIA.
The Aberdeenshire Militia having been called out in 1831, Edward enlisted in the regiment. He was only about eighteen years old at the time. When the men assembled, they were found to be a very bad lot—mere riff-raff—the dregs of the neighbourhood. They were regardless both of law and order. Seldom a night passed without the patrol bringing in numbers to the guardhouse for being drunk and disorderly. Even during parade, many of the men were put underarrest for insubordination, chiefly because of the insulting language they used towards their officers.
FLIES AFTER A BUTTERFLY.
The militia were only embodied for four weeks. During the first fortnight, the regiment was drilled without arms of any sort. It was only during the last fortnight that the men were provided with muskets and bayonets. The company to which Edward belonged was drilling one day on the links. It was a bright sunny afternoon. The company was marching along near the lower part of the links, when a large brown butterfly flitted past. Edward saw it in an instant. He had never seen the like of that butterfly before![24]Without thinking for a moment of what he was doing, he flew after it,—among the bents and sand hillocks, grasping after it with his hand.
“A very hunter did he rushUpon the prey: with leaps and springsHe followed on from brake to bush.”
“A very hunter did he rushUpon the prey: with leaps and springsHe followed on from brake to bush.”
“A very hunter did he rushUpon the prey: with leaps and springsHe followed on from brake to bush.”
“A very hunter did he rush
Upon the prey: with leaps and springs
He followed on from brake to bush.”
IS APPREHENDED.
The butterfly eluded him; it flew away before him. Again he rushed after it, losing his bonnet in the hunt. He was nearing the spot where it had alighted. He would catch it now,—when suddenly he was gripped by the neck! He looked round, and saw it was the corporal of his company, with four militiamen behind him.
Looking Edward sternly in the face, the corporal said, “What’s up, Edward?” “Nothing.” “The deuce!” “No, it wasn’t that, it was a splendidbutterfly.” “A butter-devil!” “No! it was a butter-fly!” “Stuff!” said the corporal; “are you mad?” “No; I don’t think I am.” “You look like a madman; and I’ll tell you what it is, you’ll have to pay for this.” “For what?” “For breaking away from the ranks during drill. I am sent to arrest you and take you to the guardhouse: so come along!” And away they marched; two militiamen before, two behind, and Edward and the corporal in the centre. By this time a number of persons had collected, the younger people calling out to their companions to come and see the mad militiaman.
On crossing the links, the prisoner and his escort encountered one of the officers of the regiment, accompanied by a group of ladies. “Where are you going with that boy?” said the officer, addressing the corporal. “To the guardhouse!” “What? more insubordination?” “Yes!” “This is most dreadful; what has he done?” “He broke the ranks during drill, and although Sergeant Forbes called him back, he ran away after what he calls a butterfly!” There was a short silence, after which the ladies were observed tittering and laughing. “What did you say, corporal?” “He ran out of the ranks after a butterfly.” “What? ran away from his exercise for the sake of an insect! Most extraordinary. Is he mad, corporal?” “Well, the sergeant thinks so; and that’s the reason why I have got four men to help me to take him; but I don’t think that he’smad.” “He must be drunk then?” “No, I don’t think he’s drunk either.” “He must be either mad or drunk: did he ever behave so before?” “No, not to my knowledge.”
The officer and the ladies retired, and talked together. After about five minutes had elapsed, the officer returned and said to the corporal, “Are you quite sure that the prisoner behaved himself properly before his ridiculous chase after the butterfly?” “I know of nothing whatever against him, sir.” “Call him forward.” Edward advanced towards the officer. “Well, sir, what have you to say about breaking the ranks during drill, and running after the butterfly? are you subject to fits of insanity?” Edward did not reply. “Can’t you speak, sir?” cried the officer angrily. “Yes, sir,” replied Edward, “but you have asked questions that I cannot answer.” “What induced you to leave the ranks, and run after a harmless insect?” “I really do not know, unless it was from a desire to possess the butterfly.”
HIS LIBERATION.
Looks were exchanged between the officer and corporal, when the former, calling Edward aside, said to him, “I dare say, young man, you are not aware that the crime which you have committed against military discipline is a very severe one. This constant disobedience to orders must be put a stop to. But as this is your first offence, and as these ladies have interceded for you, I shall endeavour to obtain your acquittal, in the hope that you will closelyattend to your duty in future.” Addressing the corporal, he added, “Take him back to the ranks, and tell Sergeant Forbes that I will speak to him about this affair.” This was Edward’s first and last military offence; and he served out the rest of his time with attention and diligence.
ENLISTS IN THE RIFLES.
Edward disliked returning to his trade. His aversion to it was greater even than before. He disliked the wages, which were low; but he still more disliked the manner in which the masters treated their men. They sometimes kept them idle for days, and towards the end of the week, they would force them to work night and day in order to finish their jobs. Edward liked his militia life much better; and, in order to get rid of the shoemaking and continue his soldier’s life, he enlisted in the 60th Rifles. When his mother heard of the decision he had come to, she expressed herself as strongly opposed to it; and, working upon the young man’s feelings, which were none of the hardest, he at last promised not to go, and arrangements were made to get him off. Thus ended Edward’s military career.
Before he left Aberdeen, he assisted his father as beadle (or pew-opener) in the North Church, King Street. He continued in this office for about two years. He liked the occupation very well, and was sorry to leave it when he finally left Aberdeen to settle at Banff.
Edwardwas about twenty years old when he left Aberdeen, and went to Banff to work at his trade. He found a master there willing to employ him. Shoemaking had not improved. Men worked long hours for little wages. The hardest worker could only earn a scanty livelihood. Though paid by the piece, the journeymen worked in the employers’ shops. Their hours were from six in the morning till nine at night. They had scarcely an interval of time that they could call their own.
Edward found the confinement more miserable than the wages. And yet he contrived to find some time to follow his bent. He went after birds, and insects, and butterflies. He annoyed his shopmates almost as much as he had annoyed his schoolfellows. In summer time, he collected a number of caterpillars, and put them in a box beside him in the workshop, for the purpose of watching them, and observing their development into the chrysalis state.
In spite of his care, some of the caterpillars got out, and wandered about the floor, sometimes creepingup the men’s legs. Some of the workmen did not care, but one of them was almost thrown into convulsions when he knew that a “worm was out.” The other men played tricks upon him. When any of them wanted a scene, they merely said, “Geordie, there’s a lad oot!” Then Geordie would jump to his feet, and would not sit down again until he was assured that all the worms were fast in their boxes.
Edward was forced to keep his caterpillars in the workshop, as the landlady with whom he lodged would not allow any of his “vermin,” as she called them, to enter her house. He had one day taken in about a dozen caterpillars of the Puss Moth, and asked her for a box to hold them in. The landlady told him at once to get out of the house with his “beasts.” She never could understand her lodger. She could not fathom “fat kin’ o’ a chiel he was. A’body tried to keep awa frae vermin but himsel’!”
MARRIES A HUNTLY LASS.
The idea again recurred to Edward of saving money enough to enable him to emigrate to the United States. But this was prevented by his falling in love! Man proposes: God disposes. He met with a Huntly lass at the farm of Boyndie. He liked her, loved her, courted her, married her, and brought her home to the house which he had provided for her in Banff.
Edward was only twenty-three years old when he brought his wife home. Many may think that he was very imprudent in marrying so early. But heknew nothing about Malthus on Population. He merely followed his natural instincts. What kept him, would keep another also. It turned out, however, that he married wisely. His marriage settled him for life. He no longer thought of emigrating to America. Then his marriage gave him a happy home. His wife was bright and cheerful, and was always ready to welcome him from his wanderings. They were very poor, it is true; but mutual affection makes up for much. Perhaps they occasionally felt the bitterness of poverty; for Edward’s earnings did not yet amount to more than about 9s. 6d. a week.
STUDIES NATURAL HISTORY.
Another result of Edward’s marriage was, that it enabled him to carry on his self-education in Natural History. While he lived in lodgings, he had few opportunities for collecting objects. It is true, he explored the country in the neighbourhood of Banff. He wandered along the sands towards Whitehills, and explored the rocky cliffs between Macduff and Gamrie. He learnt the geography of the inland country and of the sea-coast. He knew the habitats of various birds and animals. Some of the former he procured and stuffed; for by this time he had acquired the art of preserving birds as well as insects. But while he lived in lodgings he had no room for stuffed birds or preserved moths and butterflies. It was only when he got a home of his own that he began to make a collection of these objects.
WANT OF EDUCATION.
It was a great disadvantage to him that his educationshould have been so much neglected in his boyhood. He had, it is true, been at three schools before he was six years old, but, as we have already seen, he was turned away from them all because of his love of “beasts.” He had learned comparatively little from his schoolmasters,—who knew little themselves, and perhaps taught less. He was able to read, though with difficulty. Arithmetic was to him a thing unknown. He had not even learnt to write. It was scarcely possible that he could have learned much in his boyhood, for he went to work when he was only six years old.
An attempt was made to teach him writing, whilst he was apprenticed to Begg, the drunken shoemaker. He asked leave to attend a writing school held in the evening. His master could not, or would not, understand the meaning of his request. “What!” said he, “learn to write! I suppose you will be asking to learn dancing next! What business have you with writing? Am I to be robbed of my time to enable you to learn to write?” Edward’s parents supported the application, and at last the master gave his consent. But there was always some work to do, or something to finish and carry home to the master’s customers, so that Edward rarely attended the writing school; and at the end of the quarter, he knew very little more of penmanship than he did at the beginning.
Edward had to begin at the beginning witheverything. As we have already said, he knew next to nothing of books. He did not possess a single work on Natural History. He did not know the names of the birds and animals that he caught. For many years after he had begun his researches, his knowledge of natural objects was obtained by chance. He knew little of the nature and habits of the creatures that he went to seek; he scarcely knew where or how to find them. Yet his very absence of knowledge proved a source of inexhaustible pleasure to him. All that he learnt of the form, habits, and characteristics of birds and animals, was obtained by his own personal observation. His knowledge had been gathered and accumulated by himself. It was his own.
SHY AND FRIENDLESS.
It was a misfortune to Edward that, after he had attained manhood, he was so shy and friendless. He was as solitary as Wordsworth’s Wanderer. He had no friend of any sort to direct him in his studies; none even to lend him books, from which he might have obtained some assistance. He associated very little with his fellow-workers. Shoemakers were a very drunken lot. Edward, on the contrary, was sober and thoughtful. His fellow shoemakers could not understand him. They thought him an odd, wandering, unsettled creature. Why should he not, as they did, enjoy himself at the public house? Instead of doing this, Edward plodded homewards so soon as his day’s work was over.
A LOVER OF NATURE.
There was, however, one advantage which Edward possessed, and it compensated him for many difficulties. He was an intense lover of Nature. Everything that lived and breathed had charms for him. He loved the fields, the woods, the moors. The living presence of the earth was always about him, and he eagerly drank in its spirit. The bubbling brooks, the whispering trees, the aspects of the clouds, the driving wind, were all sources of delight. He felt himself free amidst the liberty of Nature.
The ocean in its devious humours,—sometimes peacefully slumbering, or laving the sands with murmuring kisses at his feet; then, full of life and motion, carrying in and out the fishermen’s boats along the shores of the Firth; or, roaring with seeming agony, dashing itself in spray against the rockbound coast,—these sights and scenes were always a source of wonderment. As his wanderings were almost invariably conducted at night, he had abundant opportunities of seeing, not only the ocean, but the heavens, in their various aspects. What were these stars so far off in the sky? Were they worlds? Were they but the outposts of the earth, from which other worlds were to be seen, far beyond the ken of the most powerful telescope?
To use Edward’s own words, “I can never succeed in describing my unbounded admiration of the works of the Almighty; not only the wonderful works which we ourselves see upon earth, but those wondrousand countless millions of orbs which roll, both near and far, in the endless immensity of space—the Home of Eternity.
“Every living thing that moves or lives, everything that grows, everything created or formed by the hand or the will of the Omnipotent, has such a fascinating charm for me, and sends such a thrill of pleasure through my whole frame, that to describe my feelings is utterly impossible.”
Another advantage which Edward possessed, besides his intense love of Nature, was his invincible determination. Whatever object in Natural History he desired to possess, if it were possible to obtain it, he never rested until he had succeeded. He sometimes lost for a time the object of which he was in search, because he wished to observe its traits and habits. For this purpose, he would observe long and carefully, before obtaining possession of it. By this means he was enabled to secure an amount of information in Natural History, such as no book, except the book of Nature, could have supplied him with.
MAKES A COLLECTION.
Edward proceeded to make a collection of natural objects early in the spring of 1838. He was then twenty-four years old, and had been married about a year. He had, a short time before, bought an old gun for four and sixpence; but it was so rickety that he had to tie the barrel to the stock with a piece of thick twine. He carried his powder in a horn, and measured out his charges with the bowl of a tobacco-pipe.His shot was contained in a brown paper bag. A few insect bottles of middling size, some boxes for containing moths and butterflies, and a botanical book for putting his plants in, constituted his equipment.
As he did not cease shoemaking until nine at night, nearly all his researches were made after that hour. He had to be back to his work in the morning at six. His wages were so small, that he could not venture to abridge his working hours. It was indispensably necessary for him to husband carefully both his time and his money, so as to make the most of the one and the best of the other. And in order the better to accomplish this, he resolved never to spend a moment idly, nor a penny uselessly.
HIS EQUIPMENT.
On returning home from his work at night, his usual course was to equip himself with his insect boxes and bottles, his botanical book and his gun; and to set out with his supper in his hand or stowed away in his pocket. The nearest spring furnished him with sufficient drink. So long as it was light, he scoured the country, looking for moths, or beetles, or plants, or birds, or any living thing that came in his way.
HIS WORK AT NIGHT.
When it became so dark that he could no longer observe, he dropped down by the side of a bank, or a bush, or a tree, whichever came handiest, and there he dozed or slept until the light returned. Then he got up, and again began his observations,which he continued until the time arrived when he had to return to his daily labour. It was no unusual circumstance for him—when he had wandered too far, and come upon some more than usually attractive spot—to strip himself of his gear, gun and all, which he would hide in some hole; and thus lightened of everything, except his specimens, take to his heels and run at the top of his speed, in order to be at his work at the proper time.
On Saturdays he could only make his observations late at night. He must be home by twelve o’clock. Sabbath-breaking is an intolerable sin in Scotland, and Edward was never a Sabbath-breaker. It was a good thing for his mental and physical health that there was a seventh day during which he could not and would not work. But for his seventh day’s rest, he would have worked night and day. On Sundays he went to church with his wife and family. After evening service he took off his best clothes and donned his working dress. Then he took a few hours’ sleep in his chair or lying across his bed, before setting out. He thus contrived to secure a few hours’ observation on Monday mornings before six o’clock.
His neighbours used to say of him, “It is a stormy night that keeps that man Edward in the house.” In fact, his neighbours were completely bewildered about his doings. They gave vent to all sorts of surmises about his wanderings by night. Exaggerated rumours spread about amongst thetown’s people. He went with a gun! Surely he couldn’t be a poacher or a burglar? That was impossible. It was well known that he lived soberly and honestly, denying himself many things, and never repining at his lot, though living a life of hardship. But what could he mean by wandering about at night amongst wild, lonely, and ghost-haunted places? They wouldn’t have slept in Boyndie churchyard for worlds! And yet that was one of Edward’s favourite spots!
HIS AMBUSCADES.
He went out in fine starlit nights, in moonlight nights, and in cold and drizzling nights. Weather never daunted him. When it rained, he would look out for a hole in a bank, and thrust himself into it, feet foremost. He kept his head and his gun out, watching and waiting for any casualties that might happen. He knew of two such holes, both in sandbanks and both in woods, which he occasionally frequented. They were foxes’ or badgers’ dens. If any of these gentry were inside when he took up his position, they did not venture to disturb him. If they were out they did the same, except on one occasion, when a badger endeavoured to dislodge him, showing his teeth. He was obliged to shoot it. He could often have shot deers and hares, which came close up to where he was; but they were forbidden animals, and he resisted the temptation. He shot owls and polecats from his ambuscades. Numbers of moths came dancing about him, and many of thesehe secured and boxed,—sending them to their long sleep with a little drop of chloroform. When it rained heavily, he drew in his head and his gun, and slept until the first streaks of light appeared on the horizon; and then he came out of his hole and proceeded with his operations.
DISAGREEABLE VISITORS.
At other times he would take up his quarters for the night in some disused buildings—in a barn, a ruined castle, or a churchyard. He usually obtained better shelter in such places than if he were seated by the side of a stone, a bush, or a wall. His principal objection to them was, that he had a greater number of visitors there than elsewhere,—such as polecats, weasels, bats, rats, and mice, not to speak of hosts of night-wandering insects, such as molluscs, beetles, slaters, and centipedes. Think of having a polecat or a weasel sniff-sniffing at your face while asleep! Or two or three big rats tug-tugging at your pockets, and attempting to steal away your larder. These visitors, however, did not always prove an annoyance. On the contrary, they sometimes proved a windfall; for, when they came within reach, they were suddenly seized, examined, and, if found necessary, killed, stuffed, and added to the collection.
The coldest places in which Edward slept at night, were among the rocks by the seaside, on the shingle, or on the sea-braes along the coast. When exposed to the east wind, these sleeping-places were perishingly cold. When he went inland he could obtain bettershelter. In summer time, especially, he would lie down on the grass and sleep soundly, with the lock of his gun for his pillow, and the canopy of heaven for his blanket. His ear was always open for the sounds of Nature, and when the lark was carolling his early hymn of praise, long before the sun had risen, Edward would rise and watch for daybreak—
When from the naked topOf some bold headland he beheld the sunRise up, and bathe the world in light.
When from the naked topOf some bold headland he beheld the sunRise up, and bathe the world in light.
When from the naked topOf some bold headland he beheld the sunRise up, and bathe the world in light.
When from the naked top
Of some bold headland he beheld the sun
Rise up, and bathe the world in light.
In the course of his wanderings inland, he was frequently overtaken by storms in the hills. He carried no cloak, nor plaid, nor umbrella, so that he often got completely soaked before he could find shelter.
CHURCHYARD OF BOYNDIE.
One of the most remarkable nights Edward ever spent, was under a gravestone in the churchyard of Boyndie. The church of this parish was at one time situated in the midst of the churchyard; but as it was found inconvenient, and at a considerable distance from the bulk of the parishioners, it was removed inland, leaving but a gable end of the old church standing. The churchyard, however, is still used as a burying-place. It stands on a high piece of ground overlooking the sea, about two miles west of Banff. In clear days, the bold, rugged, precipitous coast is to be seen, extending eastward as far as Crovie Head. But the night of which we speak was very dark; the sky was overhung with rolling clouds; the sea was moaning along the shore. Edward expecteda wild night, as he had seen the storm brewing before he left home. Nevertheless he went out as usual.
A TERRIBLE NIGHT.
He had always regarded a thunderstorm as one of the grandest sights. He rejoiced in the warring of the elements by day, and also by night when the inhabitants of the earth were wrapped in sleep. As he approached old Boyndie, the storm burst. The clouds were ripped open, and the zigzag lightning threw a sudden flood of light over land and sea. Torrents of rain followed, in the midst of which Edward ran into the churchyard and took shelter under a flat tombstone supported by four low pillars. There was just room enough for him to lie down at full length. The storm was not yet at its height. The thunder pealed and crashed and rolled along the heavens, as if the universe were about to be torn asunder, and the mighty fragments hurled out into infinity. It became louder and louder—nearer and nearer. The lightning flashed in red and yellowish fiery streams; each flash leaving behind it a suffocating sulphurous odour. Then followed torrents of rain and hail and lumps of ice.
After the thunderstorm, the wind began,—lightly at first, but, increasing rapidly, it soon blew a hurricane. The sea rose, and lashed its waves furiously along the coast. Although Edward had entertained no fear of the thunder, he now began to fear lest the tremendous fury of the wind would blow downthe rickety gable end of the old church of Boyndie; in which case it would have fallen upon the tombstone, under which he lay.