The Charioteers gave leave of absence to the Scribe and General Manager to spend Sunday with my friends Mr. and Mrs. G., at Strathairly House, on the banks of the Forth. It was a most delightful visit. The Commodore of the Forth Yachting Squadron (for such Mr. G. is) had the Ranee ready to take us back to Edinburgh Monday morning. We enjoyed the sail down the Forth very much. That we could not accept the Commodore's invitation to change the Gay Charioteers into Bold Mariners for a day and visit St. Andrews in the Ranee gave rise to deep regret, when the other members of the party were informed of the treat proposed; but we cannot glean every field upon our march. Some other time, Commodore, the recently elected member of the squadron will report for duty on the flagship and splice the main brace with you and your jolly crew. There is a craze for yachting in Britain, which is also showing its symptoms on this side. I am not at home in vessels much smaller than an Atlantic steamer. The Charioteers resolved unanimously that their yacht should have four wheels and four horses, and should run on land.
Upon our return to Edinburgh Monday morning, the first rumbling of the distant thunder from Dunfermline was heard, and it dawned upon us that serious work was at hand. Our friend Mr. D., of the Council, had called upon us and intimated that something of a demonstration might be made upon our arrival in my native town; but when I found a telegram from Mr. Simpson, the clerk, asking us to postpone our coming for a day, I knew there was an end to play. Things looked serious, but I was not going to be the sole sufferer. At dinner I laid it down as the law from which there could be no appeal, that if any public speaking were to be done, Messrs. P., McC., K., the General Manager, and V., were in for it. It is surprising how much it mitigates one's own troubles to see his dearest friends more frightened than himself. I grew bolder as I encouraged these victims. Their speeches were bound to be hits—no speeches have so often created sensations as maiden efforts. The last two offered great inducements to the ladies if they would vote that they should be excused. As for the others, I made it a question of ministerial confidence, and the administration was sustained. If you read their speeches I am sure you will see the wisdom of my selections.
I was glad to see Sir Noel Paton, Dunfermline's most distinguished son, able to be at his sister's that evening. The recent narrow and heroic escape from drowning of himself, Lady Paton, and his son Victor, gave us all renewed interest in grasping his hand again. Thrown from a small sail-boat into the sea, at least two hundred yards from shore, with ropes and sail tangled about them, the three rallied to each other's support (for all could swim), and bore each other up until finally Lady Paton got between her husband and son, with one hand on the shoulder of each, and thus they struggled grandly to shore. Where is another trio that could do that, think you? I tell you, who don't know Dunfermline, that these Patons were always a marked family, and have had genius hovering about their pretty home for generations, and now and then touching the heads and hearts of father, sons, and daughters with its creative wand. There is a great deal in blood, no doubt, but the blood from an honest weaver or shoemaker is, as a rule, a much better article, something to be much prouder of, than you find from nobles whose rise came from such conduct as should make their descendants ashamed to talk of descent. It's a God's mercy we are all from honest weavers; let us pity those who haven't ancestors of whom they can be proud, dukes or duchesses though they be.
Dunfermline, July 27-28.
Dunfermline.
Put all the fifty days of our journey together, and we would have exchanged them all for rainy ones if we could have been assured a bright day for this occasion. It came, a magnificent day. The sun shone forth as if glad to shine upon this the most memorable day of my mother's life or of mine, as far as days can be rendered memorable by the actions of our fellow-men. We left Edinburgh and reached Queensferry in time for the noon boat. Here was the scene so finely given in "Marmion," which I tried, however, in vain to recall as I gazed upon it. If Dunfermline and its thunders had not been in the distance, I think I could have given it after a fashion, but I failed altogether that morning.
"But northward far, with purer blaze,
On Ochil mountains fell the rays,
And as each heathy top they kissed,