An American Four-In-Hand in Britain Part 19

Harry and I laughed.

"Have you the revised edition here yet?" I inquired.

"Na, na, the auld thing here. Nane of yer new-fangled editions of the Scripture for us. But I hear they've shortened the Lord's Prayer. Noo, that's na a bad thing for them as hae to get up early in the mornin's."

He was an original, and we left his shop smiling at his way of putting things. Scotland is the land of odd characters.

SANQUHAR, July 18.

We are off for old c.u.mnock, the entire village apparently out to see the start. Sanquhar on the moors does not seem to have many attractions, but last evening we had one of our pleasantest walks. There is a fine deep glen hid away between the hills, with a torrent rushing through it, over which bridges have been thrown. We were tempted to go far up the glen.

The long gloaming faded away into darkness and we had a weird stroll home. It was after ten o'clock when we reached the hotel. This may be taken as a specimen of our evenings; there is always the long walk in the gloaming after dinner, which may be noted as one of the rare pleasures of the day.

[Sidenote: _School Children._]

Our luncheon to-day could not be excelled, and in some features it was unique. The banks of Douglas Water was the site chosen. The stream divides, and a green island looked so enchanting that the committee set about planning means to cross to it. The steps of the coach formed a temporary bridge over which the ladies were safely conducted, but not without some danger of a spill. As many as thirty school children, then enjoying their summer vacation, followed, and after a while ventured to fraternize with us. Such a group of rosy, happy little ones it would be difficult to meet with out of Scotland. Children seem to flourish without care in this climate. The difference between the children of America and Britain is infinitely greater than that between the adults of the two countries. Scotch children learn to p.r.o.nounce as the English do in the schools, but in their play the ancient Doric comes out in full force. It is all broad Scotch yet in conversation. This will no doubt change in time, but it seemed to us that so far they have lost very few of the Scotch words and none of the accent. We asked the group to appoint one of their number to receive some money to buy "sweeties" for the party. Jeannie Morrison was the la.s.sie proposed and unanimously chosen. Jeannie was in the sixth standard. In answer to an inquiry, it was at first said that no one else of the party was so far advanced, but a moment's consultation resulted in a prompt correction, and then came: "Aye, Aggie McDonald is too." But not one of the laddies was beyond the fifth. Well, the women of Scotland always were superior to the men. If a workingman in Scotland does not get a clever managing wife (they are helpmeets there), he never amounts to much, and many a stupid man pulls up well through the efforts of his wife. It is much the same in France, or, indeed, in any country where the struggle for existence is hard and expenditure has to be kept down to the lowest point--so much depends upon the woman in this department.

The shyness of these children surprised our Americans much. They could scarcely be induced to partake of cakes and jelly, which must be rare delicacies with them. I created a laugh by insisting that even after I had been in America several years I was as shy as any of these children.

My friends were apparently indisposed to accept such an a.s.sertion entirely, but an appeal to Davie satisfied them of my modesty in early youth. "Ah, _then_!" said Miss M. But this was cruel.

We left some rare morsels for these children. When they had done cheering us at our departure, I warrant they "were nae blate." The dear little innocent, happy things! I wish I could get among them again. What would not one give to get a fresh start, to be put back a child again, that he might make such a record as seems possible when looking backward! How many things he would do that he did not do, how many things he would not do that he did do! I sympathize with Faust, the offer was too tempting to be successfully withstood. One point worth noting occurs to me. In looking back you never feel that upon any occasion you have acted too generously, but you often regret that you did not give enough, and sometimes that you did not give at all. The moral seems to be--always give the higher sum or do the most when in doubt. It seems to me that parents and others having charge of children might do more than is done to teach them the only means of making life worth living, and to point out to them the rocks and eddies from which they themselves have suffered damage in life's pa.s.sage.

[Sidenote: _A Pleasant Meeting._]

With the cheers of the children ringing in our ears we started on our way. While stopping at the inn to return what had been lent us in the way of baskets, pitchers, etc., a lady drove up in a stylish phaeton, and, excusing herself for intruding, said that a coach was so rarely seen in those parts she could not resist asking who we were and whither bound. I gave her all desired information, and asked her to please gratify our ladies by telling in return who she was. "Lady Stuart M."

was the reply. She was of the M.'s of Closeburn Castle, as we learned from Mr. Murray, our landlord at c.u.mnock. The estate will go at her death to a nephew who is farming in America. We thought there must be some good reason why he did not return and manage for his aunt, who indeed seems well qualified to manage for herself. The young exiled heir had our sympathy, but long may it be ere he enters upon Closeburn, for we were all heartily in favor of a long and happy reign to the present ruler of that beautiful estate. Lady M. a.s.sured us that we would be well taken care of at the Dumfries Arms, and she was right. Mr. Murray and his handsome sisters will long be remembered as model hotel-keepers.

They made our stay most agreeable. Mr. Murray took us to the Bowling Green in the evening, and many of our party saw the game for the first time. Great excitement prevails when the sides are evenly matched. It is, like the curling pond, a perfect republic. There is no rank upon the ice or upon the green in Scotland. The postman will berate the provost for bad play at bowls, but touch his hat respectfully to him on the pavement. A man may be even a provost and yet not up to giving them a "Yankee" when called for. We were curious to know what a "Yankee" shot was, for we heard it called for by the captains every now and then. We were told that this was a shot which "knocked all before it, and played the very deevil." That is not bad.

While a few of us who had recently seen the land of Burns remained at c.u.mnock, the remainder of the party drove to Ayr and saw all the sights there and returned in the evening. Our walks about c.u.mnock were delightful, and we left Mr. Murray's care with sincere regret.

OLD c.u.mNOCK, July 19.

[Sidenote: _Our Photograph._]

Pa.s.sing out of the town this morning, we stopped at the prettiest little photographic establishment we had ever seen, and the artist succeeded in taking excellent views of the coach and party, as the reader may see by a glance at the frontispiece, where the original negative is reproduced by the artotype process. It was done in an instant; we were taken ere we were aware. A great thing, that instantaneous photography; one has not time to look his very worst, as sitters usually contrive to do, ladies especially. It is so hard to be artificial and yet look pretty.

"Right, Perry!" and off we drove through the crowd for Douglas. The General Manager soon confided to me that for the first time he was dubious about our resting-place for the night. A telegram had been received by him from the landlord at Douglas just before starting, stating that the inn was full to overflowing with officers of the volunteer regiment encamped there, and that it was impossible for him to provide for our party. What was to be done? It was decided to inform that important personage, mine host, that we were moving upon him, and that if he gave no quarters we should give none either. He must billet us somewhere; if not, then

"A night in greenwood spent Were but to-morrow's merriment."

But we felt quite sure that the town of Douglas would in council a.s.sembled extend a warm welcome to the Americans and see us safely housed, even if there were not a hotel in the place. So on we went.

While pa.s.sing through Lugar, a pretty young miss ran out of the telegraph office, and holding up both hands, called: "Stop! It's no aff yet! it's no aff yet!" A message was coming for the coaching party. It proved to be from our Douglas landlord, saying, All right! he would do the best he could for us. When the party was informed how much we had been trusting in Providence for the past few hours, such was their enthusiasm that some disappointment was expressed at the rea.s.suring character of the telegram. Not to know where we were going to be all night--may be to have to lie in and on the coach--would have been such fun! But "Behind yon hill where Lugar flows," sung by Eliza, sounded none the less sweet when we knew we were not likely to have to camp out upon its pretty banks. It is essential for successful happy coaching with ladies that every comfort should be provided. I am satisfied it would never do to risk the weaker s.e.x coaching in any other land. The extreme comfort of everything here alone keeps them well and able to stand the gypsy life.

We travelled most of the day among the ore lands and blast furnaces of the Scotch pig-iron kings, the Bairds. To reach Edinburgh we had to drive diagonally eastward across the country, for we had gone to the westward that Dumfries and the Land of Burns might not be missed. This route took us through less frequented localities, off the main lines of travel, but our experience justified us in feeling that this had proved a great advantage, for we saw more of Scotland than we should have done otherwise.

Our luncheon to-day was a novel one in some respects. No inn was to be reached upon the moors, and feed for the horses had to be taken with us from c.u.mnock; but we found the prettiest little wimpling burn, across which a pa.s.sage was made by throwing in big stones, for the shady dell was upon the far side. The horses were unhitched and allowed to nibble the wayside gra.s.s beside our big coach, which loomed up on the moor as if it were double its true size.

[Sidenote: _Scotch Weather._]

The thistle and the harebell begin to deck our gra.s.sy tables at noon, and fine fields of peas and beans scent the air. All is Scotch; and oh, that bracing breeze, which cools deliciously the sun's bright rays, confirms us in the opinion that no weather is like Scotch weather, when it is good; when it is not I have no doubt the same opinion is equally correct, but we have no means of judging. Scotland smiles upon her guests, and we love her with true devotion in return. "What do you think of Scotland noo?" came often to-day; but words cannot express what we do think of her. In the language of one of our young ladies, "She is just lovely!"

The question came up to-day at luncheon, would one ever tire of this gypsy life? and it was unanimously voted never! At least no one could venture to name a time when he would be ready to return to the prosy routine of ordinary existence while blessed with such weather and such company. Indeed, this nomadic life must be the hardest of all to exchange for city life. It is so diametrically opposed to it in every phase. "If I were not the independent gentleman I am," says Lamb, "I should choose to be a beggar." "Chapsey me a gypsy," gentle Elia, you could not have known of that life, or perhaps you considered it and the beggar's life identical. But, mark you, there is a difference which is much more than a distinction. A gypsy cannot beg, but he or she tells fortunes, tinkers a little and deals in horses. Even if he steals a little now and then, I take it he is still within the lines of the profession; while your beggar who does anything in the way of work, or who steals, is no true man. His license is for begging only. The gypsy obviously has the wider range, and I say again, therefore, "Chapsey me a gypsy," gentle Elia.

Davie and I walked over to the railway line after luncheon to have a talk with the surfacemen we saw at work. They were strong, stalwart men, and possessed of that shrewd, solid sense which is invariably found in Scotch workmen. Their pay seemed very small to us; the foreman got only twenty shillings per week ($5), while the ordinary surfaceman got fourteen shillings ($3.50). Although this was only a single-track branch line, it was almost as well laid as the Pennsylvania Railroad. None of the men had ever been in America, but several had relatives there who were doing well, and they looked forward to trying the new land some day.

We reached pretty Douglas in the evening, and sounded our horn longer than usual to apprize mine host that the host was upon him. We were greatly pleased to see him and his good wife standing in the door of the inn with pleasant, smiling faces to greet us. They had arranged everything for our comfort. Many thanks to those gentlemanly officers who had so kindly given up their rooms to accommodate their American cousins. Quarters for the gentlemen had been found in the village, and Joe and Perry and the horses were all well taken care of. Thus we successfully pa.s.sed through the only occasion where there seemed to be the slightest difficulty about our resting-place for the night.

[Sidenote: _Home Castle._]

Douglas, the ancient seat of that family so noted in Scotland's history, is really worth a visit. Home Castle, their residence, is a commanding pile seen for many miles up the valley as we approach the town. Our visit to it was greatly enjoyed, we had such a pretty walk in the evening, and a rest on the slope of the hill overlooking the castle. We lay there in the gra.s.s and enjoyed the quiet Scotch gloaming which was gathering round us, and so silently, so slowly shutting in the scene.

The castle upon the left below us, the Douglas water so placidly gliding through the valley at our feet, the old church where lay mouldering generations of the Douglases, and the dark woods beyond, formed a picture which kept us long upon the hill.

In their day, what bustling men were these doughty Douglases--full of sturt and strife--the very ideal representatives of the warrior bold, who made their way and held their own by the strength of their good right arms.

"A steede, a steede of matchless speede, A sword of metal keene, All else to n.o.ble minds is dross, All else on earth is meane; And O the thundering press of knights, When loud their war cries swell, Might serve to call a saint from heaven Or rouse a fiend from h.e.l.le."

This was their ideal--the very reverse, thank G.o.d, of the ideal of to-day--but note how peacefully they lie now in the little antiquated church in this obscure valley. What shadows we are! What shadows we pursue! This vein once started in the Scotch gloaming upon the hills, where the coloring of the scene is so sombre as to be not only seen but felt, must be indulged in sparingly, or some of the Charioteers might soon have to record a new experience--a fit of the blues. But this was prevented by comparing the advance made by the race upon this question of war within the past century. The "profession of arms" is very soon to be rated as it deserves. The apology for it will be the same as for any other of the butchering trades--it is necessary. Granted for the present, but what of the nature which selects such a profession!

[Sidenote: _Epitaphs._]

The inscriptions upon the tombs of the Douglases recalled other epitaphs; some one said of all the inscriptions yet seen, he thought that upon the tomb of the Duke of Devonshire gave us the best lesson.

It runs thus:

"Who lyeth heare?

Ye gude Yearle of Devenshere-- What he had is gone, What he kept is lost, What he gave--_that_ he hath."

We were on the verge of moralizing. Some one scenting the danger, said he thought an equally suggestive epitaph headed one of the chapters of "David Elginbrod":

"Here lies David Elginbrod, Hae mercy on his soul, oh G.o.d!

As he'd a-had, had he been G.o.d, An ye'd been David Elginbrod."

Yes, there is food for thought here too. David must have been a queer one.

The sky grew darker, and the far-off woods faded into a cloud upon the horizon; the party rose, and in so doing regained their usual hilarity--forgot all about tombs and were off for a run hand-in-hand down the gentle slope to the valley, shouting and laughing in great glee--and so on over the pretty bridge to their delightful inn.

DOUGLAS, July 20.

Edinburgh, Scotia's darling seat, only forty-four miles distant. All aboard, this pretty morning, for Edinburgh! "Right, Perry!" and off we went quite early through Douglas, for the capital. Our path was through woods for several miles, and we listened to the birds and saw and heard many of the incidents of morn so prettily described by Beattie:

"The wild brook babbling down the mountain-side, The lowing herd; the sheep-fold's simple bell; The hum of bees, and linnet's lay of love, And the full choir that wakes the universal grove."

It was to be a long day's drive, but an easy one; only one hill, and then a gradual descent all the way to Edinburgh. So it might have been by the other road, but the mile-stones which told us so many miles to Edinburgh should also have said: "Take the new road; this is the old one, over the hills and far away." But they did not, and we could not be wrong, for this was a way, if not _the_ way, to "Auld Reekie." After all, it was one of the richest of our experiences as we look back upon it now. So many hills to walk up and so many to walk down; so many moors with not a house to be seen, nothing but sheep around us and the lights and shadows of a Scotch sky overhead. But it was grand, and recalled some of Black's wonderful pen pictures. And then we enjoyed the heather which we found in its beauty, though scarcely yet tinted with its richest glow of color. This was our introduction to it. The heathery moor was new to most of the party and many were the exclamations produced by its beauty. There's "meat and drink" to a Scotchman in the scent of the heather.