Alas, a veritable draggle-tailed Sally Slap-cabbage answered my call, and her first words to me were:
“Ye maun c’way oot o’ that, it’s privaat.”
Law-abiding ever, I rose with alacrity, only asking where I could go to be comfortable. She showed me into a dark, fireless, dirty cell, and said nonchalantly:
“D’ye wish tea?”
I replied briskly, “No, I want dinner, and as quick as possible. Also a fire or another room, this is as cold as the open air.”
“We’ve nae denner,” was the reply, “an’ I dinna ken if ther any cauld meat, but ye can hae some tea, an’ I’ll see if ther’s ony meat.”
She departed and after twenty minutes’ absence returned with a dish whereon were a few dirty scraps of cold mutton, obviously scraped from the bone. Some tea and bread and butter of a parsimonious and poverty-stricken sort completed the banquet, which, however it disgusted me, was so certainly all there was obtainable that I made no further protest but ate and shivered in silence. When I came to pay I was charged two shillings, which the taciturn Moll accepted in silence and I departed colder than when I arrived and extremely anxious never to renew my acquaintance with Dunblane any more.
But all my discontent vanished upon arrival at Dundee. Though it was snowing heavily my kind and thoughtful host, Bailie Robertson, was at the station to meet me and I very soon found myself in his beautiful house seated before a noble hot meal which was ready and waiting for me, and at which that splendid old lady his sister presided with a motherly grace that I can never forget. As both these grand old people are dead I can speak of them with greater freedom than they would have liked during their lifetime, for they were essentially of the kind who “do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.”
Here again my lecture effort gave me the greatest possible gratification. Not only was the fine Kinnaird Hall packed with listeners, but a large portion of them were intimately connected with the whale fishery and were therefore intensely interested in my subject, although I spoke mainly upon the Southern Whale Fishery, a totally different business. I cannot remember how many old whaling skippers were introduced to me after the lecture, but I do remember and shall always be grateful for their very warm appreciation and the outspoken manner in which they gave it utterance. But I hope and believe that I realised then, and always have done, that their tribute was paid, not to any eloquence or oratory, but to practical acquaintance with the great business with which I dealt, and that I think will always be found to be the case with every subject. That it should be so seems eminently reasonable.
Now lest it should appear that my lecture path was roses, roses all the way, I must just interpose an experience in Scotland of a very different character. I was booked to lecture at Borrowstounness (Bo’ness) at a very low fee because it “fitted in” as we say; that is because I had other lectures in Scotland round about that time, obviating the necessity for making a long journey from London specially. Now I had to come from Hull, leaving there at 6 a.m., and in consequence when I arrived in Edinburgh, where I had to spend three or four hours, I was very tired. Common prudence would suggest that I should have a quiet meal and a rest, but I was not prudent, and, having ascertained the time of a convenient train from Waverley to Bo’ness, I used up my spare time in visiting friends in Edinburgh.