The autumn was passing, and I thought I would not like to be at this place in the winter. I had really no one to care what I did with my life or where I lived. There were no Christian friendly societies for young girls at that time. I felt the want of sympathy and approval in what I did. I saw the housekeeper at Colonel Cathcart's, and hoped when I was a grown woman to return there. I was old enough to admire the lovely scenery, but not old enough to disbelieve in witches and warlocks and fairies. Ayrshire is so full of glens and caves that I expected to see natural wonders, and not the work of man, for the imagination runs riot at times.
Gipsies I saw in plenty, and was afraid of them. They did not live in houses, but only in the wood; quite large numbers of them all together, and there were children, young girls, and youths who had never lived in a house. They came and went at will, and nobody seemed to take any notice of them. They were travelling tinkers. They made tinware, and sold it as they went through. The older women would come about to tell fortunes, and they would steal fowls or anything else they could lay hands on. The farmers always lost sheep and lambs when the gipsies were about, while one heard tales of them stealing away children of the high-class people.
I LEAVE AYRSHIRE.
It was the end of October when I left Ayrshire, and Mrs. Macblean's son had not come. I know she was grieving acutely about him. I promised that I would go and see him again when I returned to my own people. I found myself in Glasgow, and left my box at the station, and paid a penny for a ticket, for which they agreed to keep my box till I came for it. I saw Mrs. Stirling, and stopped there all night, and read the paper with a long column of advertisements for all sorts of working-girls. One, she thought, I might enquire about. It was from a lady and gentleman at No. 5, Florence-place, who wanted a young country girl, who must be useful. So I went. I found it was a furnished flat in a stylish part of the city. I told the lady that I had come from Dalmellington the day before, and that Mrs. Stirling would speak for me. I was engaged to come that evening. They only intended to stay in Glasgow for three months, but I thought I could get something else at the end of that time. They seemed rich people, but were in trouble. Their name was Skirven. They had one daughter at home. I was not long there before I learned that it was through another daughter that they came from their home in Fifeshire. The youngest daughter, while going to boarding-school, fell in love with a young medical student. She ran away with him and got married, and came to Glasgow. He was a Roman Catholic and an Irishman, while her parents were Scotch. As they were married by a Catholic priest, Mr. Skirven said it was no marriage. That is what brought him to Glasgow. He came to find those two runaways, and to make them get married again in their church. Mr. Skirven had his gun loaded to shoot the young doctor if he objected. His name was Dr. Reily. They found the young lady and took her to Florence-place, and the doctor was not allowed to come near her. It seemed so sad. She was a pretty little lady, and so young. A strict watch was kept on her, and she saw nobody. She soon found that she could trust me with a letter, and many times a letter came for her in my name from the husband. I even saw him, and brought messages to her from him. He was waiting for his diploma, and he had a good practice in view. Then he intended to show that they could not keep his wife from him. It was my first experience of the fact that love can destroy happiness.
I never knew how matters were fixed up, but the old folks went back to Fife, and I got another place as under-nurse with Dr. Fargus, in Elmbank-street, off Sauchihall-street, Glasgow, close to where I had been living. Dr. Fargus was eminent in his profession as a medical man, and of great distinction. And his wife—How can I write about that gentle lady? It was a Christian home, and well appointed. The nurse had been with them ever since they had got married, and there were three children. It was a large, new house, four storeys high, with everything up to date, and so convenient. There was no carrying water, for both hot and cold water were in all the rooms, and there were bathrooms right up to the top, where the nurseries were. The lady's mother had died a week before I went there. There were other servants, and we all had mourning, a dressmaker being in the house. I had a black-and-white print, and a black stuff dress, with a cape and hat to match, because I had to go out so much with the children and the nurses. We were well looked after, both as regards our bedrooms and our food. And there was a whole pew for us in a church in Cudoging-street, not far from the Clyde. They had a summer residence, about seven miles from Glasgow, and a man and his wife to keep it always ready for them. The children were all small, and if the doctor thought they wanted a change, the nurse and I very often went to this old castle, some of which was in ruins, but there was plenty of room for us and lovely grounds for us to romp about in. The lady would come sometimes and stop for a few days. The locality was Eastkillbride. There was no railway. On the way we passed through the very old towns of Rutherglen and Hamilton. All along near at hand I could see the coal-pits, like Slamannan. But there were none at Eastkillbride. The doctor would sometimes bring his wife in his carriage, or in the omnibus, the only way of conveying passengers to that part. She was kind to the poor and the sick. There were no district nurses heard of then. Every day she took some broths and dainties to those who needed them. One poor woman appealed to me. She was in bed for seven years with rheumatism. She had the use partly of the right hand and that was all. I often went when I could, and tried to do something for Mrs. Kennedy. If Mrs. Fargus was not there the nurse looked after her poor pensioners all the same. The houses were spread about with quite a distance between. There was no interesting scenery, but only an old ruin.
DR. DYKES, DR. GUTHRIE, AND DR. MACLEOD.
Close by there was a church with a manse. It seemed out of keeping with all the rest of the place, for it looked new. It had an air of freshness about it, and belonged to the Free Church of Scotland. The minister was quite a young man and a friend of Mr. and Mrs. Fargus. He came much to the house, and the children knew him, so that we often found him rambling about with them. His housekeeper used to be his nurse when he was a child. We went to the manse often. The minister was the Rev. Dr. James Oswald Dykes, and he came out to Australia many years ago. The church in Eastkillbride was his first appointment. His fame as a preacher and a good man spread all about. The way he filled that church with the scattered people was wonderful. He would go miles and miles after parishioners. He had a persuasiveness in his preaching, although it was homely and plain. I went to the Bible-class, and he explained things to me of which I was formerly ignorant. After months of catechising I became a member of the Free Church of Scotland. It gave me thoughts which enabled me to resolve to do the common things I had to do well, and to be happy in doing what was right.
I was in the manse one night with Mrs. Clark, his housekeeper, when he came in all wet and muddy. He had found a man and woman living together who were not married. The man was ill end likely to die, and he thought the children would be guarded from some threatening injury if the father and mother were married. The man, however, did not care what became of woman or children. He turned his face to the wall, and for a long time would not listen to the minister, but Dr. Dykes got him face-to-face with the woman and a witness, and married them while the man was still in bed. Dr. Dykes was very upset about this event. Happily, in Scotland such things are rare.