All the Days of My Life: An Autobiography - novelonlinefull.com
You’re read light novel All the Days of My Life: An Autobiography Part 12 online at NovelOnlineFull.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit NovelOnlineFull.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
though some men of fifty years old, or even more, danced with great spirit in the national reels and strathspeys. I danced once with Mr.
Humphreys, and was stepping a pretty measure with Mrs. Semple's Willie, when Mrs. Sage's son, Alick, entered. Immediately I caught his look of pleasure and admiration, and something I knew not what, pa.s.sed between us, so that, when he was introduced to me, we both felt it to be a supernumerary ceremony.
I have been a little diffuse concerning this dinner, because it represented fairly the household hospitality of that time. I dare say that they have a more stylish mode now, but I doubt if, with the elegant restraint of later days, they have preserved the old delightful flow of song and story, and that intense national spirit, which made one involuntarily listen for the bagpipes, though the music was all in the imagination. Many such entertainments I went to that winter; always on Sat.u.r.day nights to the McIntoshes', where there was sure to be a boiled turkey stuffed with oysters and served with oyster sauce. In another house, to which I went frequently, they had roast turkey stuffed with plum pudding, and an old negro cook in Texas told me his old master always had his turkeys stuffed in the latter way. If any one thinks it could not be good, I advise them just to try the recipe.
The two following days being Sat.u.r.day and Sunday I rested, looked over my clothing, and wrote long letters home. I also wrote Dr. Farrar, and told him how comfortably all had been arranged for me. I was a little nervous about my entry into the Normal School, but when Monday morning came, I was ready for what it demanded, and more curious than frightened. It was a foggy morning, and the big building amid the small, poor buildings around it, loomed up gray and forbidding in its bare black yard, where a lot of children were trying to be playful, in the most discouraging surroundings. The janitor took me to the recitation hall, opened the door, and left me. There were groups of men and groups of women standing about, talking in an unconstrained way; others sat alone on the benches of the great gallery, which rose, bench above bench, nearly to the ceiling. No one spoke to me, and I sat down and looked curiously at the women, who could be guilty of such unkindness. I am sure many of them wished to speak, but did not know how to take the initiative. If they would only have trusted their hearts, and said a word of welcome, they need not have feared they were breaking any social law. Kindness is always fashionable, and always welcome.
In a few minutes an exceedingly tall, fair, thin man slowly entered, and every one went instantly to their places. I presented to him Dr.
Farrar's letter of introduction, and he threw it on a small table, and said irritably, "Third row, left corner." Somehow I walked straight to the place indicated.
I am not going to describe this school, or the method of teaching used there. I have but an imperfect remembrance of all concerning it, and the system is likely superseded long ago by something better.
Yet, I was much interested in the hall recitations and exercises; and the teaching of men and women together, on the basis of perfect mental equality, was then a great novelty, and far from being universally approved. My own impression was that in every department the women excelled the male students. Certainly Professor Hyslop appeared to think so, and to please himself hugely and frequently, by ill.u.s.trations of the fact.
During my first hour in that room, I saw him call a young man to the blackboard, and give him an algebraic problem to solve. He failed completely. Another young man was called, and also failed. Then the Professor said, with an air of a.s.surance, "Miss Grace Laing," and a girl of about eighteen stepped lightly forward, made a few figures, and, to me, cabalistic signs. The Professor's face brightened, and he said decidedly, "correct," and Miss Grace Laing walked back to her place. The men, however, were not ungenerous, for a half-audible murmur of admiration followed the Professor's verdict of "correct."
The theological lessons were exceedingly interesting, for theology touches the average Scot on both his weakest and strongest side, and a barely veiled dispute was always lingering between the Calvinistic and Arminian students. Every lesson, however, in that school turned to argument; the system provoked it, and was intended to do so.
I liked the life at the school, but very early felt within myself that it was only a stepping-stone to my real destiny; and the remembrance we give to stepping-stones, is washed out by every other tide. But I did all my duty and enjoyed doing it, so the days were full of pleasant work, the evenings of pleasant company, and the time went swiftly by, though it left none of those sharp, indelible etchings on memory which direct personality gives. I was in a crowd there, and all my recollections of the place are evasive and uncertain.
With the advent of June I began to look forward to home and home influences; then I received an invitation to join an excursion party, going with Captain Scott on his own steamer to "Fife and all the lands about it," north as far as St. Andrews, and then further north, even to the Orkneys and Shetland Islands. I could not bear to think of missing such an opportunity, and I wrote Dr. Farrar and asked him to obtain liberty for me to accept the invitation. He sent me a kind permission to do so, saying he had no doubt many would afterward see the places I visited through my eyes. And, as I have written "Jan Vedder's Wife," "A Daughter of Fife," "Prisoners of Conscience," "Paul and Christina," "Thyra Varrick," "Sheila Vedder," "The Heart of Jessie Laurie," and so forth, from material and impressions gathered on this voyage, Dr. Farrar's estimate has brought forth fruit a thousand-fold.
I need not enter into details here: the above books will amply reveal to their readers the n.o.ble men and women of "the ancient kingdom," and of the Ultima Thule of the Shetlands.
When the trip was over I did not return to Glasgow; we landed at Leith, and from Edinburgh I got a train direct to Kendal, where I arrived about tea time. I found all better than I expected. My father had a.s.sumed the duty of visiting the poor and the sick in their affliction, of comforting the broken in heart, and of going as far as a mortal man may go with the dying. Mother thought he was happy in his self-imposed charge, but he must have had terrible hours among the books he no longer used; for he was only fifty-five years old at this time, and still retained much physical strength and beauty.
I had two weeks of perfect peace and happiness, and then, just as I was thinking of returning to Glasgow, I received a letter from Mrs.
Humphreys, telling me that the government had removed Mr. Humphreys to Liverpool, and that they were on the point of leaving for that city.
She said further, that she had had a conversation with Mrs. Semple about me, and that Mrs. Semple was anxious I should stay with her; she pointed out the advantages of living in such respectable care and surroundings, and urged me to accept Mrs. Semple's offer.
Here was another stepping-stone towards destiny: where would it lead me? Mrs. Semple had a large circle of friends, and entertained and went out frequently. I should meet at her house a different cla.s.s of people; traders, perhaps, but traders with gentry behind them; ministers, lawyers, and men who had to do with books and literature, and doubtless women who might be more stylish, and perhaps less kind, than Mrs. Humphreys or Mrs. McIntosh. It looked pleasant enough in prospect, and, I may as well say, it proved pleasant enough in reality.
I found, on my return to Glasgow, that Miss Pollock and her brother were on their way to Australia; then, my course being quite clear, I went to Mrs. Semple. She received me joyfully, and at first would not hear of my paying a farthing for my board; but I soon convinced her that she would have to take the sum it had cost me to live with Miss Pollock. Of course, even then, I had greatly the best of the bargain--handsome rooms to dwell in, an excellent table, and ready sympathy in all my perplexities, likes and dislikes. In a way I made the balance more even by giving to my hostess those little helps and personal attentions I would have given to my mother, if in her place, and we were mutually pleased and satisfied.
When I returned to the school, Professor Hyslop looked glumly at me, and hoped I had "enough of stravaging," and was ready to attend to my duty. I a.s.sured him I was glad to do so, but I was not glad in my heart. A kind of dissatisfaction lurked in all my plans. I wanted, I knew not what. I worked steadily, but with a kind of eager looking forward to something beyond the work.
One morning Mrs. Semple and I were eating a luxurious little breakfast. The sunshine and the fresh air came in through the open window, and some working men were going up West Regent Street, whistling delightfully. I was happy, but thoughtful, and Mrs. Semple said, "You're thinking lessons, and that isna in our bargain--lovers would be mair wise-like. What did you dream last night?"
"Why," I answered, "I had a singular dream. I was thinking about it, when you said lessons."
"Tell me, then."
[Ill.u.s.tration: MRS. BARR AT 18]
"I dreamed of going into a large warehouse, full to the roof of bundles of gray and white wool. Many men were at desks writing, but no one spoke, and I walked forward, until I came to a door covered with green baize, and pushed it open. Then a young man, who sat writing at a handsome desk, turned and looked at me, saying in a pleasant, authoritative way, 'Come in, Milly. I have been waiting for you.' The dream pa.s.sed away as he spoke."
"What kind of a young man? Handsome?"
"Yes, very handsome. He was dressed in a suit of shepherd tartan."
"That is likely enough. Every other man you meet, is wearing shepherd tartan. It is precious few that look decent in it."
"My dream-man looked well in it."
"A red or green necktie with it, of course."
"No, a black one."
"Wonderful! It is either red or green wi' most men. My Willie would have naething but white. He thinks he looks ministerial in the black and white, and he is trying to behave accordingly. You must have noticed him?"
"Yes, I have. Perhaps Willie's dress gave me my queer dream."
"Reason the dream awa', of course. That's what fools do wi' a dream. I think you dreamed of the man who will be your husband."
"Then," I said, "my husband is not among the men I know. I never saw the young man of my dream before."
"There's few people in town yet," explained Mrs. Semple. "They are at Arran, or Bute, or somewhere down the water. It will be September ere they get back to Glasgow." At these words she lifted the morning paper, but in a few moments threw it down in great excitement, crying, "Milly! Milly! the Queen, and Prince Albert, and the Prince o' Wales are coming to Glasgow; every blessed wife, and mother, and maid, will be here to see the Royalties. We, also, we must see them! We must hae a window; some one must get one for us!"
"Do you know any one who can?"
"Yes. When you come back from school, we will go and ask him."
"Need I go?"
"I'll not go a step wanting you."
So I came home without delay, put on a clean white frock, and went with Mrs. Semple to a street called Virginia Street. The warehouse we entered was so old that the stone steps at its entrance were nearly worn away. A kind of porter stood at the door, and Mrs. Semple told him she wished to see his master. He led us through a long room piled to the ceiling with bundles of wool, and through a green baize door into a handsome office, where the young man of my dream sat writing.
He turned as we entered, and Mrs. Semple said, "Weel, Robert, how's a'
with you?"
For a moment he did not answer. He was looking at me--perhaps expecting an introduction, but his smiling face appeared to be saying, just the words I heard in my sleep, "Come in, Milly! I have been waiting for you."
Really what he said was an effusive welcome to Mrs. Semple, and a polite offer of his chair to me. It was a large office chair, but I took it; after a little while he asked me if I was comfortable, and then laughing lowly added, "Now I shall forever dream dreams in that chair."
"Weel," answered Mrs. Semple, "maybe the dreams will come true." Then she explained the reason for our call, magnifying very much my desire to see the Queen. And Mr. Barr a.s.sured her there would be tickets for a good window at her house before nine o'clock that night, if it was possible to get them. It was a pleasant call, a fateful call, for I knew I had met the man whose fate--good or bad--I must share. A feeling of deep sadness overcame me. I said I was sick, lay down on my bed, and fell into a deep sleep.
Before nine o'clock Mr. Barr brought the tickets, and, on the day appointed, went with us to see what there was to see. It was not much.
Her Majesty disappointed me. Prince Albert was not as handsome as his pictures represented him to be, and the Prince of Wales was in a bad temper, and showed it as plainly as a boy nine years old could do. The Queen wore a royal Stuart tartan shawl; it was heavy and c.u.mbersome, and she looked ungraceful in it. But this bit of sightseeing was the beginning of a new order of things. My life took a turn then and there, and, as I look back, I could weep at the memory of that fateful royal visit; but through the years that hour had been fixed, and the dormant love in my soul needed but a look to awaken it.
Until the New Year Mr. Barr was all the most devoted lover could be, then there was a pause in his attentions. It would be folly to say I did not care. I did care. I went about my duties with a heavy heart.
"It is his mother," said Mrs. Semple. "She is a hard, old soul, and she wouldna be willing for Robert to marry an angel from heaven, if she hadna plenty o' siller. Forbye, you are English and an Arminian, when you should be a Calvinist, and, worse than that, you are over-educated."
"I thought the Scotch believed in education."
"They do--for men--not for women. They prefer them to watch cheese parings and candle-ends. It doesna need an educated woman to sweep, and darn, and cook, and save a farthing, wherever it can be saved."
One evening in February Mr. Barr called. He said he had been "on a long business journey through the West Riding," and those two words softened my heart, and we began to talk of some mutual acquaintance there. Then, before he knew it, without his will or effort, love broke into audible words. It was the healing love, the comforting love, and one little word, and one long kiss, made all things fast and sure. But that night I knew the old troubler and heartache of the world had me in his power, and would have, until life with all its troubles and heartaches was over.
I had told Robert that the first thing was to get my father's and my mother's consent to our marriage, and he went to Kendal the following day for this purpose, arriving there about four in the afternoon.