Celery G Taylor 01

ABSTRACT OF MY OWN LIFE AND TIMES

Commenced writing on the 25th of March 1885

By George Taylor

I have no further genealogy of my ancestors than that of grandfathers and grandmothers on both sides. So far as I can ascertain, they were of the Scottish Border among the Cheviots in the county of Roxburgh. I was once favored to make some extracts from an old Record of a Book belonging to the Secession Church at Morebattle, where I found a list of Births, Marriages, and Baptisms of three generations. I learned from this Record that my ancestors did not belong to the Established Church, but must have been devoted followers of Boston and the Erskines. They seemed also to have belonged to the working class and have to earn their daily bread by farm labor.

From this Register I found that my father, Andrew Taylor, was the son of George Taylor and Mary Common, who were married on the 21st of January, 1763. My father was born at Granger in the Parish of Tlounam on the 25th of September, 1768. Then I found on my mother’s side, that Alexander, son of Alexander Stevenson and Mary Wright, was born on the 20th of February, 1781.

My father was a shepherd on a large farm on the Beaumont called Attonburn. It was the custom on some of those large farms for the shepherds and the other single servants to board at the farmhouse. It was in this capacity that my mother and father got acquainted, she being kitchen maid or cook for the whole household.

The record or their marriage is: Married Andrew Taylor and Violet Stevenson, 6th of April 1801. David Morrison, Minister, George Bell and Alexander Stevenson, Witnesses.

They went right away to America and sailed from Greencock with the ship Franklin on the 26th of April and landed at New York on the 16th of June, a passage of six weeks and three days. Their passage money was for steerage 14 Guineas and to find their own victuals, and they were bound to lay in a supply for 10 weeks. They were kindly entertained on board by the Captain and had upon the whole a good passage. They went up the Hudson to Albany and from there to Cherry Valley on the Mohawk, where they remained until the month of May. My mother’s health was poorly and so they resolved to come home again.

I have a receipt of their passage by two of the agents on the 1st of May 1802 for the sum of 56 dollars or 12 Guineas from New York to Greencock by the Ship George Donald Campbell Master. Then they came home again, and I see from certain documents that my Father had sole management of Attonburn till the end of the lease, the Farmer A. Wmn. Andrew Pringle having died since he left.

Such then is a little of my Ancestral History. I see from the Secession Book that I was born at Grange in the Parish of Tlounam on the 12th of February 1803. I suppose that was where my grandmother was living, she having been left a widow for some time previous.

The first place where I looked upon the world and was capable of remembering anything was at the farm of Cururn in the Parish of Morebattle at the foot of the Cheviots. My father had engaged to be shepherding there, and was four years in that place. I was over five years old when my Father left that place and I found afterwards that I had quite a distinct recollection of the place and the surrounding scenery. There were pretty steep hills both behind and in front. A little wild wimpling Burn ran close by and on of the first objects that struck my attention was on large tree close upon the bank and at the end of the Burn. And there is one thing I recollect in this connection about a Foxhunt. Renyard had been hard pursued and he leaped upon a stone wall built to the side of the barn. From this he sprang to the thatch and up the slope roof to the top, where he lay undiscovered for some time. At last was seen and was forced to leap down and again being pursued by the hounds, and was captured in a little while.

I recollect distinctly about sheep washing and sheep shearing and the Threshing of grain with the flail, and here in this connection I met with a new sensation. They had brought a Fanning Machine, which I had never seen before, and were making preparations to fan a heap of oats that had been threshed as I was looking on. And as they began to put the Machine in operation, the noise that it made, the movement of the wheels, the wind, and the could of dust that rose up—all together so unexpected, quite overwhelmed me with fear. I took to my heels and ran into the house to my Mother in the greatest state of excitement; after she had calmed my fear, I could go and look with pleasure at this operation.

There was one trait of character that was early manifested in me, and that was a love of books with pictures. My Mother used to relate how I once gave her a fright in this way. In all those Country Houses it was necessary to have two large Box Beds. These were set on each side of the house, leaving a space, the breadth of a door betwixt them: this formed two apartments, which were known in Scotland by the terms of a Bat and a Ben. In these Beds of ours, there was a wooden shelf at both the head and the foot, where Books or any other choice article could be place. My father had a collection of books on these shelves, and one he had lately got was: “Three Hundred Animals.” They were all pictured with description of character, beginning with the lion and ending with a lower grade. I was much interested with this and some other of the books that had pictures. And so it happened that I climbed into the bed and was for a time quietly enjoying the pictures. My Mother, on looking around both outside and in, could not find me. A suspicious thought struck her, as she had several times before seen me go down to the Burn and watch with interest the trout and minnows sporting in the pools and eddies of that little stream. The thought that I might have fallen in and got drowned put her into a state of excitement, and so she ran so far up and so far down, and nothing of me was to be seen; she then came back to the house in an awful state of suspense, when she thought she had heard something stirring in the bed. When on looking in, there was I as busy among the books as a sage in his study.

The farm buildings and shepherds houses are all isolated and scattered at considerable distances from each other in these Districts. The hills often run in oblong ranges and are beautifully rounded off and covered with a fine smooth crop of the best pasturage. The shepherds often meet each other on the hills, and are social and kindly in their family visits. As everything we see only appears great or little, or a novelty by comparison, so I found this to be the case on my first visit away from home. This was to the village of Yetholm which stands about three miles below Beaumont. I never had seen a building larger than a Thatched Cottage, and on looking on a range of buildings, two or three stories high, standing opposite each other, with the shop and their various wares for sale. These novelties altogether seemed to me exceedingly great.

I recollect also that there was certain visitors that called around upon us. One of these was the Gypsy Class. They ostensibly traveled for the sale of Crockery Ware, Horn Spoons, and some other odds and ends. They also collected rags with which they were ready to barter for their own wares. Their mode of transit for business was the Cuddie and Creed. Their women did all the trading, leaving the men and the Cuddies at a distance, while they with a large basket of crockery on their arm and with on or two ragged hungry-looking children following, they came into the house without any ceremony asking: “Now Mistress, what are gan to want in or way the day.” They were persevering in showing off their different wares: and then came an inquiry for rags. If a trade was made, there was a good deal more than they were willing to take. But trade or not, they were always hungry: and especially the children who had hardly spoken their fast that day. Such was the way in which they combine their trade with begging. But we knew that they were also great thieves; for if there were any clothes drying, or any loose things lying around, they were apt to stick to their fingers.

There was another class that used to call round at regular intervals—Peddler or Packman, as he was generally called. Some of these dealt in software in all sorts of Cotton Linens, and Woolen fabrics. These Packmen were generally good talkers and very communicative: and as they traveled over an extensive district, they were well pouted with all the Local News. And as there were a few newspapers at the time, they could often relate some of the last great exploits of Napoleon Bonaparte. There were certain of the Shepherds’ Houses where these Peddlers regularly stopped all night, where they had a good Crack and a mutual entertainment. In the morning after breakfast, some nice trinket was presented to the mistress, which often led to a greater purchase from the peddler.

There was also another class that sometimes came round, and that was the regular Beggers in the early part of the Reign of George the Third. The old soldiers had no pensions: and I have seen some of them going about in this way, some without Arm and some on Crutches without a Leg, and some of these frequently had a Medal authorizing them to beg. I recollect of hearing a case related in the last Century which took place at the Eaverton Edge Race Course about three miles from Kelso. There was an old Soldier of the name of Andrew Gemmels, who had served in some of the great wars in Germany, and who had been traveling with his Meal Bags all over the country. He was attending the races, where there was always a great crowd of people. There was also a recruiting party to enlist Soldiers, and was common in such cases, the party marched through the crowd with Fife and Drum and a great display. When a halt was called and the recruiting officer had come forward and made a grand speech exalting the honor and the glory of the Soldiers, Old Gemmels came prominently forward in the middle of the crowd, and holding up his Meal Bags cried, “Behold The End Of It.”

All that beggar class whether men or women were as a matter of business ragged and dirty: in this way they often got a supply of better clothing, but when it was thought too good, it was sold and turned into money. And so some of the characters have been known to have left a good sum of money at their deaths. This system of open begging has now been nearly done away with in both Scotland and England. In many of the parishes there is a poor rate of fund provided for any of the resident poor who from age and not having any relations able to support them are allowed from this fund a weekly supply. Within the last fifty years, an extensive emigrations has done something to relieve this poverty, but in many cases the root of the evil will exist so long as the drinking usages in these countries are continued.

recollect of another traveling class who were sort of weekly visitors and were known by the name of Cadgers. Their principal business was to buy and collect eggs from both the farmers and their hinds and cotters who kept a great many chickens. Some of these traveled with a horse and cart and had various merchandise for sale, such as: tea, sugar, snuff, and tobacco. Other of these had cuddle and creek which consisted of two large square wicker boxes, strapped together and suspended on each side, frequently a rider might be sitting on the middle with a leg on each side.

Three cadgers came around every week on a certain day; for they studied to avoid each other—and hence arose the old Scotch Saying, “That there is aye ill will among Cadgers”. And here necessarily came in a division of Labor. These eggs and other produce, which they gathered, had to be taken to some Town or City for sale. This was often the special business of some other member of the family, who went to Edinburgh or Berdick with what had been previously collected, sold them there and purchased and brought home all that was necessary for their country trade. But now all this sort of business has been greatly changed since the railroad had become the great medium of transportation.

I may here mention that my father removed from the Farm of Curburn, where he had been shepherd four years to the Farm of Haslawbank in the parish of Linton on the 28th of May, 1808. And before entering into my personal history here, I think it necessary in the first place to give a little sketch of the relation in which the farmer stands to the landlords and then in what relation the laborers stand to the farmer.

In the first place then it is a fact that the greater part of all the land in Scotland, England, and Ireland is possessed by a few great landlords. And to secure these estates from being divided at the decease of the proprietors, they are all entailed-an legal act by which a property cannot be divided but must be inherited by one heir. Only moveable property is subject to division. These lands are divided into farms, and on these a good house is built for the farmer and adjacent are all the necessary farm buildings, so placed, as to form an inclosed square where the various grades of cattle are stalled and fed. Then there is another class of building for the plowmen and other laborers on the farm. The farms are in turn divided into fields by fencing. Now then after these farms are thus equipped they are advertised to be let to a tenant for a certain number of years (generally 19) on certain conditions and at specified rent per annum. The advertisement mentions the name of the farm, the number of acres, and that offers will be received by a party up to a certain date. Then may be seen different parties riding and walking over the farm carefully examining the land and fences with all the various buildings. The mode of giving in the bid is sometimes keen competition for a good farm and it is at the option of the landlord whether he may accept the highest bidder or not. One that is possessed of good capital is often the one that is preferred. There is another law which these landlords have got up to favor themselves and is called the Law of Nypothec, and it works somewhat in this way: If a farmer would fall behind in the payments of his rent for one or two years, the landlord could seize all of his moveable property, and if he is owing a large bill to the manure merchant or seedman, grocer, dry goods merchant, or any other man, none of these can touch a thing until the landlord is fully paid. And this, in many cases, he takes all and the other creditors receive nothing. The farmer upon taking the farm, must furnish it with stock horses, plough, and all other agricultural implements. He must engage the plowman and other laborers to work the land, and also shepherd. The engagement of these workers is generally for one year, the term being the 26th of May Whitsunday. For the single servant women or men connected with the farmhouse or those who engage as workers with the plowman or shepherds, their engagement is for half year from Whitsunday to 22nd of November. Thus, I have given a sketch of the mode of rural life in Scotland, and it will be seen that many of them are really the servant of servants and are dependent on others, yet it is wonderful how happy many of them are, and as Burns says, “A Buerddly Chiels and clever Hizzies are bred in sic a way as this.”

I now come back to where my father engaged to be a shepherd with a James Burn on the farm of Hoslaw Bank. I here entered upon a new field with some scenery and some new sensations. The flitting, as it was called in taking down the wooden box beds, the press, the dishes, with all the plates, the bowls. Everything were masses in confusion and packed on the carts was quite a sensation.

I recollect my grandmother, whose maiden name was Mary Wight, took me in charge to walk with her, and I mind the walk well. It was first down the burn to the Beaumont and then down to Yetholm. We then called at the House of William Stobs, who was one of the weekly Cadgers that came round and were very kindly entertained. This was the first of three miles of our journey and we had another three miles to go. We now made our way across the Hough of Beaumont, then up a steep hill and close by the shepherds’ dwelling, called the Breakhouse. Then still up and along the side of some stone dykes. We kept winding around till we saw before us a little farm hamlet by the name of Wideopen. After passing this, we began to march downhill; and then a little to the west we saw at a distance the place of our destination, on this was a farm house of the old style with Barn Byreshed and two dwelling houses, forming a sort of a square. These buildings stood on a ridge of old pasture and running to a point—on the north was a lake, or Lough, as they called it, of about thirty acres. To the west was an extensive Mop, where a great many Peats had been and were still being cut out. This was called the Dun Mop, as the Peat was of a brownish dun color. Then on the south side, the Mop stretched in a sort of oblong form to the east. This Mop was a soft black and easily cut, and the peats, when dried, were hard and burnt finely. They were indeed our principle fuel. The name of this old place was called Lochinches—I suppose from its position between the Lough and the Mop. There was a connection with the Hoslaw Bank farm, and our house was here, as most of the pastureland lay in this direction. There were three families living here, besides ours.

My father and another family lived in the old farmhouse and the others in two cottage houses, joined together. They were all oldish people that lived here, so that I had no boys to associate with. But I found much to interest me in some other things about it. In the Lough there was a little island, where hundreds of white fowl, called the Pick Maw, used to come in the spring and make their nests. They laid three light blue eggs and were thought good eating. I was in the way of gathering a great many of them, both for ourselves, and the neighbors. There were also a good many wild ducks that used to make their nests about this Mop and Lough. One of these nests with a dozen or more of fresh eggs was a good prize. There were certain kinds of berries that grew in this Mop, of which I gathered a good many. The best of these was the Cranberry. It was of the same species as our Americans of that name, but much smaller, though I think the quality was equally good. In the season I used to gather a great many of these and could readily sell them for a shilling per bottle or quart. I may say that the blueberry, which used to grow on the dry knolls among the heather. They are a species of our huckleberry in taste and color, but not quite large. There was another little black species, which grew on a hard, wiry stem, which was known by the name of the crawberry. It was pretty good eating, but not equal to others.

The farm of Hoslaw Bank as the road winded round the East End of the Lough, was about ¾ of a mile from our house. They kept three pair of workhorses on the farm. But the greater part was native pastures, so that a good many of both sheep and cattle were kept. Some of the land was not fenced, and that required a herding of the sheep and cattle, to keep them from eating the grain. Hoslaw Bank, as the name indicates, stood on a ridge of high ground, running east and west. From this could be seen to the north of the whole of Bowickshire for a distance of 20 miles in a north and east direction. There was one thing from which I derived great pleasure in this landscape views, and that was from a small telescope, which my father had recently got. He showed me how to fix and adjust the lens. With this instrument, objects that were 12 or 20 miles distant appeared distinct and quite near. I could see the old Hume Castle with many of the prominent gentlemen seats, the town of Goldstream, and the bridge across the Tweed appeared very fine, especially when the afternoon sun shone upon it. Windmills for threshing the grain had become quite a rage at that time. With this glass I could count as many as 20 and could often see them moving. By this amusement the wary listlessness of herding was greatly taken away.

The season of harvest was then a matter of interest to all parties, both young and old (old and young). To the men and women it was hard work, as the cutting or shearing, as they called it, was all done with a savor teeth hook. Not only did all the men and women on the farm take a part in this work, but also the trades-people of the town and village were all prepared to engage in this work. The rate of harvest wages at that time was from 12 to 15 shillings per week with victuals and lodging. The length of time was often a month and sometimes more. The farmer furnished the victuals. This consisted of oatmeal porridge in the morning. It was brought out to the field about eight o’clock in bowls or wooden vessels with hoops, having the capacity to hold porridge for 7 persons. This was called a Bandwin, which consisted of 6 shearers and one bandster, to bind and set up what was cut. These bowls being set down on the Stubble at proper distances from each other. Each company following their Bandster, surrounded the vessel, either setting themselves down on their knees, or lying broadside on and with spoon in hand. The first move was to dig out a hole in the dish, so that when a tin of milk was poured on, in the center of each hole would be in the way of receiving a certain amount.

This, I know, would rather look Hoggish in the eyes of our American Citizen, but being the custom of the country, there was nothing for it, but to accept the situation. Moreover great many of these people had been up Three Hours and had now a Splendid Appetite. When an hour had passed, work was again resumed and continued till One o’clock, when Dinner was brought out. This consisted of a loaf of bread and a quart of beer to each person. The Brewer especially prepared this beer for the Harvest and made engagement with the farmer to deliver it for so much a Barrel. The dinner hour over, the same work goes on till 6 o’clock, which then, makes a day of ten hours work. Then take their way for home. When at the Farm House the find the supper waiting with the same fare as in the morning—good Oatmeal Porridge and Milk.

I have thus given the whole bill of Harvest Fare and some may think it is a very mean one, but I can speak from what I have seen and also from what I have experienced, that the hardest work can be done and the best of health enjoyed on just such a fare. But now this mode of work is greatly a thing of the past. The Reaping Machine has made an entire Revolution in all Harvest work. Young people enjoyed the Harvest in the olden days. It was the common practice for all the young and also for some old people to gather or glean what was left on the stubble behind the reapers. I used to do a good deal of this work and have a good pile at the end of the harvest. But I recollect I was sometimes necessarily engaged otherwise and had to act a housekeeper at home.

It was then the general custom for all Farm house holders to pay a rent of 50 shillings for the House they occupied or to shear for the House, as they termed it---that is, either the wife or the Servant must shear all the time of Harvest and receive no payment. In that case my Mother did the same as many other mothers—sheared all through the harvest and saved 50 shillings. In that case, being the oldest, I had to keep House and take care of the younger members of the family. And I can well recollect that one Harvest (it must have been 1812) I had to carry out the youngest to be nursed by his Mother at Breakfast and Dinner hours. This is only a sample of the way in which Women, and especially mothers are subjected under the say of a wealthy Landed Aristocracy. When I look at the poverty, oppression, and suffering which I have seen flowing from this source, I cannot but think that the language and utterance of the Epistle of James in Chapter 5th and say of the rich man: “Behold the hire of the laborers who have reaped down your fields which is of you kept back by fraud crieth, and the cries of them which have reaped are entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabbath—Your riches shall eat your flesh as fire!”

Our neighbors in this old hamlet at Lochinches were all religious, god-fearing people, but they all went to different churches. I recollect it was common practice in the Sabbath afternoon, to gather at one of the houses and talk over what had been hearing at their various churches. The texts of their ministers were mentioned and some of the leading remarks of the sermon. Sometimes a sermon or a portion of some good book was read and altogether they showed a great regard for the sanctity of the Sabbath. Family worship was also regularly observed in all of these families. The ministers were also attentive in visiting round among their members, and it was then the practice in every alternate year to have what they called a Diet of Examination. This was generally held in a certain district and a notice of it was given at the church on the previous Sabbath.

The people having thus met at a certain appointed place, the exercises were begun with singing and prayer, then a shorter catechism question was asked at each member all round. It was generally understood that everyone should be well posted on the questions, as it was one of the first things taught in both the home and the school. After this, the minister asked a series of scripture questions at each one in order, adapting them in a certain way to each individual capacity. There were always a few who were more deeply read in the scriptures and Divinity. These had harder questions asked, so as to bring the truth more fully to their weaker brethren. The children and young people were not overlooked, but had also questions. The established church had then also Diets of Examination, but these now I believe with both parties are on things of the past.

My grandmother was a frequent visitor at our house. She had a house and home of her own at Morebattle, but went frequently round among her family relations. Her family consisted of three: her oldest son, Alexander Stevenson was married to Agnes Nibbit and had a family of one daughter and four sibs and was shepherd at Cassford. Her next daughter, Agnes was married to John Mable, who was also a shepherd. They had three sons and two daughters, and after moving from place to place came out to America in 1818. My mother, Violet, was the youngest, and had a family of eight—five sons and three daughters.

It was remarked that I was a great favorite with my grandmother, and I had often to go home with her to Morebattle, and when there, I had to go round with her in a visit to a great many of her acquaintances. There were a great many weavers in that town. Four of these by the name of Craig were all friends but had all separate families. In visiting these, I was very much interested to see them working on their looms. It was something entirely new to me, and showed how our shirts and other clothing were made. And here I may mention what an immense amount of labor we then had with this article flax. We had first to go to market, buy seed, and bring it home. Then there was a day when it had to be sown. As it came up and grew, a weakening process had to be gone through. When it was ripe, it had to be pulled up and tied in beets or bunches. Then it had to be steeped in water for ten days: then spread thinly out and lie on the ground about a month. Then tied up and taken under cover. Then there was a breaking and pounding process. The next was the manual process of what they called swingling. All the wives helping each other in due order. This being done, it was all ready for the final and last process—the heckler or flax dresser, who put it in bundles ready for the spinning wheel. After the spinning, then the reeling into hanks and slips, when finally it was ready to be taken to the weaver. Then when he in his loom has wrought it into a web of shirting, he brings it home rolled up on his back. Next, he measures it out with his yardstick, and the bill of payment is made out at so much per yard. Still it is not ready to be cut for a shirt. It has to undergo a process of bleaching: and the place for this is near a supple of water, where it is spread out. And there it is alternately wetted and dried for two or three weeks. When finally it is pronounced finished, rolled up, put away in the clothes press, and frequently shown to visitors as a fine piece of Sarking. I have given this extensive process in the order as I have seen or done a part of it myself.

When at Morebattle with my grandmother, I had always to go with her to the meetinghouse on the Sabbath day. Possible at the time I was more interested with some of the external surroundings than the preaching of old David Morrison. All the meetinghouses at that time were built and constructed in a very plain style. I suppose their object was to steer as far as possible from that of the Catholic or Episcopal. As their forefathers had suffered a good deal of persecution from both of those parties. This old meeting house was of an oblong form, and no doubt was considered as stylish for its day as it had a slated roof. The walls were of equal height all round, and the roof at the ends were stopped to the wall. There was a gallery in front and at both ends, the pulpit and windows occupying one side. These pulpits were also a little peculiar. They were of a BOX?? and formed a seat behind for two and a little sloping desk before the Bible and Psalm book. They stood high, having a stair leading up to them. Down below this in front was the Presenter’s seat and desk that lead the singing. This was then quite an arduous matter, as he had to read out every line in a sort of musical tone before it was sung. There were no hymns sung then: it was all the Psalms of David. My grandmother’s seat in this house was on one of the side galleries. The way of entering was from the outside by a sloping ascent to a door at the top of the wall, from which there was way of access to all of the seats. There was a similar construction at the end of the house for an entrance to the galleries on that side.

In that pastoral district a great many of those attending were shepherds, many of them had their dogs with them, and the most of these dogs seemed to know that they were in a sacred place and behaved well, though more than once I have seen a little bit of a dog fight. One thing that interested me was when the people rose at the pronouncing of the blessing. The dogs seemed to know where they were at, and at once made a rush for the door and down the grade before the service was finished. I have since read a Scotch anecdote, which verifies my observation. In a rural district, a stranger minister had been preaching one Sabbath. When he arose to pronounce the blessing he seemed surprised when the people sat still. Then an old shepherd seemed to comprehend the situation and rose up and thus addressed the minister: “Oh sir, just say away: we sit still to cheat the dogs.”

There was another peculiar feature with certain parties attending these meetings. Many of the farmers and those whom had horses used to ride to church, and on taking their wives and other lady friends, they were in the way of riding double. This was done by girding on a separate seat or pad, as they called it, behind the saddle. This was then form in which many of the farmers rode with their wives to church and market. Burns, the poet, alludes to this when speaking of different parties on their way to Church: “Farmers rash in riding graith gaed haddin by their cotties.” Such now are all things of the past.

These church meetings were at that time a kind of social in their way in the summertime, when the days were long. There was always an interval of an hour between forenoon and afternoon services. There was a fine piece of smooth lawn grass on the south side of the church, where might be seen at that time, scores of little parties sitting or lying on the grass, eating a piece of bread and cheese, or some other refreshment they had brought with them. Here neighbors and acquaintances met, where residences might be ten or more miles apart, and thus afforded them a good opportunity for both social and religious intercourse. My grandmother had always a large party of friends at her house at the time of these intervals, and I recollect how she was in the way of preparing for this. She had a large metal pot that she called the Kalie Pot. This was half or more filled with water. Cabbages and other vegetables had been all cut and prepared on Saturday evening (for she was very strict, as to the letter, in keeping the Sabbath). These with a certain amount of fleshmeat, pot barley, and salt, were the principle ingredients that filled the pot. It was set a boiling early and well on by 11 o’clock, the hour for church. A decent fire was put below and thus left to itself for an hour and a half. When the church came out, everything in the pot was in a toothsome order. The plates and horn spoons, the knives and forks were all set in order—and then was a meal of real friendly and social intercourse.

I think it was about the end of the year 1810 that I first entered on my school experience. The nearest place at that time was at the village of Lempitlaw in the parish of Sprouston. I had learned the letters of the alphabet early and had primary lessons from my father and mother, so that I could now read pretty fair lesson in the New Testament. I recollect my father went with me and introduced me to the schoolmaster. He was a young man, I should thing about 18 years of age. His name was Thomas Scot. This was not a parish school, but was got up for the convenience of the village and the surrounding country. This school at that time was held in one of the old-fashioned dwelling houses. It was thatched with upright beams that supported the roof and came down to the walls to the foundation, at the top of the wall. There was a joint with another beam of timber, which slanted up to the top, thus meeting its neighbor on the opposite side and forming the skeleton of the roof. The intervening spaces, being filled up with large, strong branches to support the thatch. The entrance was primitive, being by what they called an outside and an inside door. On entering, there was to the right a clear space of about a rod; the whole breadth of the house close to the left was a partition running through, and at the end was the door of entrance into the main body of the school. Here, three or four desks set across with some intervening seats between; and there was one seat from the entering of the door, running the whole length along the wall and across to the south side, where were two or three windows. The entrance porch was very useful for the boys playing tops and marbles. I commenced first with a class reading the New Testament, and then with the Hardies Collection and spelling book. The tasks which we had to commit to memory were the shorter catechism and the Psalms of David. But occasionally there were some extras. I recollect that one of my teachers subsequently offered a prize of a new Psalm book to any of the school who would learn and repeat from memory most correctly the 119th Psalm. I was pronounced the successful candidate and was consequently awarded the book. At another time, by another teacher, the prize of a New Testament was offered for any of the school who would learn and repeat most correctly the three chapters of St. Matthew, which relates the Sermon on the Mount. In this case, I was also successful.

There were several of my first tasks, as they then appeared, were quite formable. My first commencement of writing was one of these, and more especially when I saw before me a fine copper plate as a pattern to write from. And something of the same feeling came over me on my first commencement with arithmetic, when a Table of Enumeration and Multiplication first came before me. It is here that the success of a teacher comes in, presenting a proper method from lower to a higher in all their many and various relations.

One great exciting scene in that period of my life was the attending of certain fairs and markets, as they came around in their season. One of these was the Town Yethholm Lamb Fair on the 5th of July. It was my father’s business to take a certain number of lambs to the fair, and this was done by parting very early in the morning. I had always to go with him to help drive and keep them separate among the many others in the market. A great many strangers and to me strange new things were always to be seen: and greater, was the St. James-held on the 5th of August near Kelso. The principle business in the early part of the day was hiring market for Shearers through the course of the Harvest at so much per week with victuals: but it was more a great gathering of Country people, young and old for pleasure and sociality. The Gypsy Class was therewith their various wares. Peddlers and Hucksters of all sorts were arranged in long side rows, where a constant stream of people kept walking up and down between them. Here you would have seen a great crowd of listening to a Ballad Singer, and many of these songs at that time were Patriotic. I recollect on old fellow who sang with great energy and the refrain or overwords of the Song was: “And Wellington wiel go wiel gowith Wellington, wiel go we will across the Main Ocean and face our daring foe.”

There were always a number of shows and other various amusements. But what gave the Fair its chief aspect was the great number of Tents covering the whole ground: their ostensible purpose being to supple eating and refreshments. It was from the last mentioned that those parties derived their profits in the sale of Ale and intoxicating drinks. And as the afternoon and evening drew on, its effects were being manifested by many of the crowd. Fighting was quite common circumstances, and some were inducted to enlist with a recruiting party as soldiers, and their next day on reflection with friends, they were induced to go back and get out of this engagement by paying what they called a Smart of one or two guienas.

These Fairs afforded also a fine opportunity for young men and women meeting together, and having a Swagger, as they called it—joining arm in arm and walking in this way up and down among the crowd. Then as it began to draw toward evening, each young man must take his sweetheart to her home, even though it should be six miles in the opposite direction of his own. In this way certain alliances were often entered upon which in the end had an unpleasant termination. The market or Hiring days for the services of single men and women for the half years were often attended in much the same way and presented many of the same scenes that I have already described.

From the time that I was born and 12 years subsequently, Napoleon Bonaparte kept all Europe in a state of war and excitement, even in Great Britian at one time was threatened with invasion. I have heard though I do not remember, about they called The Lightening of Becons. This was long before the Telegraph was thought of, and was an expedient for the giving of an immediate alarm to the whole country. The plan was to have great lights on all prominent hills twelve miles apart, so that should an invasion take place, an alarm by these lights could be given all over the country in a few minutes. In this order of things there had been a trained Militia of Volunteers to be ready at any emergency. I have heard some amusing stories related of the various effects produced by this alarm on families and individuals, when called at once to march to headquarters and meet the foe. The wailing of wives for their husbands, and mothers for their sons was quite pathetic, but in a few hours afterwards, when it was found to be a hoax, many of the former scenes so very touching, appeared now a little amusing and somewhat ludicrous. There were a few newspapers in that age, and such as there were greatly taken up with the wars and conquest of Napoleon Bonaparte. My father always contrived in some way to get hold of a newspaper. I frequently brought it, as I came home from school. This he used to read with some of the neighbors in the evening, and I have sometimes listened with their various comments about the War. I can recollect particularly the thrilling sensation all parties felt when reading an account of the disastrous retreats of Napoleon and his French army from Moscow. This was thought at the time to finish his career, but he was still able to rally for another great campgain.

In 1813 my father made a change of his situation from Hoslaw Bank, where he had been for five years to the Farm of Wholfield, and so we moved to that place on May 26th. Along with his situation as Shepherd he had also to keep a boy to heard cows and cattle on the farm through the course of the summer half year. This then was my work till the Martinmas term, 22th November. This farm was close adjacent to the English Border and I had frequent occasion to be across the line.

In my daily occupation I had a great deal of spare time, and as there ran through the Farm two fine burns or creek, where there were some fine trout, I often caught a number of these in various ways. I often spent some time in reading when I could get hold of any interesting books, but at this time there were but few books that were got up especially for the use of young people. On the Sabbath days my mother always saw that I had the Bible with me, or some other good religious book. Some of these I read with pleasure and profit. Heavy Meditations was one and also by the same author The Dialogues of Theron and Aspasia. I think I knew the Scheme of Salvation through the meditation of the Lord Jesus Christ before this, but the reading of these Dialogues threw so much light on man as a sinner and Christ as a Saviour that the way seemed open and plain. I can well recollect the very spot of ground where I was reading one Sabbath forenoon and when thinking and praying over what I had read, I seemed to enter into such a happy confidence and assurance of Peace and Love of God that I had no fear of Death, but a certain calm elevation. Above the World it seemed to me at that time as a sort of First Fruits of the Joy and Peace of Believing.

I went to school in the Winter of 1814. There was a very heavy snow that season, and the frost was severe about the beginning of April. I made my first visit to Kelso along with my mother. This was what the country people called the first Linseed Friday, when they came to buy seed and have it ready for sowing. I went to help carry home the seed with other necessities for the house. A good part of the road was new to me. We crossed the Tweed in a boat at Sprouston, and this was the first time I had either seen or sailed in a boat. We then walked two miles up the side of the river to the Town and in the course of this walk, there were some fine houses with their surroundings on each side of the river. As we drew near to the Town we heard the ringing of bells and beating of drums with other Martial music. A great flag could be seen flying upon the top of the old Cathedral and smaller ones on many of the other buildings. The Town had just received the news which is still great in history and it was this: “The Allies had entered Paris”. Bonaparte was now a prisoner and caged in his own headquarters.

The Town of Kelso that day with its shops and their carious displays, other buildings, with all their surrounding made altogether such and impression of greatness and grandeur as I had never seen before.

At the Whitsunday term May 26th 1814, my father again made a change of situation. To the Farm of Graden in the Parish of Linton. I sometimes rendered him help with the sheep, but was for the most part of that summer employed on the Farm in Singling and hoeing turnips. These are all cultivated in drills. The most of this and a good deal of the other farm work is done by women. Each house holder had then to furnish a worker whose wages at that time were tenpence a day. I was what they called an extra half worker, and so my wages were in like proportion. In the time of Harvest I had to keep house and take care of the younger members of the family, while my mother had to sheer for the house rent. Gleaning in the field was allowed, and I was in the way of bringing out the family, and had often a good pile gathered in the evening.

In the winter half year I went to school at Linton, the distance being fully three miles. The name of the Schoolmaster was Samuel Wilson. He was an oldish man, a Bachelor, and his sister, an Old Maid was his housekeeper. He was a good teacher and the school was crowded; a great many coming from the neighboring parishes. I may say he was the last of my school teachers, and it was under his tuition that I made the most progress in reading, writing, and arithmetic-these being then the only branches taught in the Parish Schools.

My father was two years Shepherd in this place, and I passed the time much in the same way as I have described.

It was in this last year 1815 that Napoleon Bonaparte made his last great struggle for the supremacy in Europe, which culminated with the Battle of Waterloo on the 16th of June. For some time previous, my father and some of the neighbors had been watching and discussing, as to what would be the outcome of the great Military Movement then going on. He got a Kelso Weekly Paper (I think it was the mail) and it always came to hand on the Friday evening and was awaited with anxiety. One of our neighbors, an old woman who was a Cadger and kept a Cuddie and creek, went to Kelso every Friday in the way of business, and also as carrier of the mail to any in the neighborhood. It was a fine summer evening, about eight O’clock, when old Peggy Vine and her Cuddie arrived. The paper was at once handed out and opened by my father, and looking eagerly at it for a little, he called to James Ainsley, our next neighbor, who was sitting at the door: “A man, Jamie, there has been an awful battle”. Jamie at once got up and drew near, and then there was a reading of the great Battle in detail and that Bonaparte had fled and was taken prisoner. I felt a considerable interest in the relations of this battle, and especially the great loss of life, which gave me an awful horror of war and a great aversion again a Red Coat and a Soldier. The result of the Battle of Waterloo was anything but favorable to the common people, but on the contrary, it gave a new lease of power to Monarchy and Aristocracy. The iniquitous Corn Laws came out of it, subjecting the various working classes to a great deal of poverty and distress, and all the more so, as a heavy taxation was laid upon all the necessities and comforts of life.

My father was two years Shepherd in this place, and I passed the time much in the same way as I have described.

At the May Term of 1816, my father made another change to the Farm of Ladyrig in the Parish of Roxburg, about two miles from Kelso. This being a very large farm, he had to keep a boy or young lad all the year around. Of course his wages were higher on this account. Having two cows with several more sheep and a certain sum of money as compensation, I therefore filled that situation, and took an active part in all the various duties of a Shepherd, thus not only supporting myself, but doing something to help and bring up the younger members of the family in a more comfortable way. Having two cows with several more sheep and a certain sum of money as compensation, I therefore filled that situation, and took an active part in all the various duties of a Shepherd, thus not only supporting myself, but doing something to help and bring up the younger members of the family in a more comfortable way.

There are certain seasons of the year, when a shepherd has some special work to perform. One of these is the sheep washing and sheering. This brought us out of the ordinary routine of business into active relation with certain other parties on the farm. The washing was done in the river Teviot, which bounded the north part of the farm. To wash by hand, 30 or 40 score sheep required the help of all the servants on the place. A suitable place was chosen on the river bank and movable hurtles were so placed, as to enclose two or three score sheep. Then a sort of division of labor was entered into. There were first five or six men standing in a line in the water, not less than three feet deep. My father, who was at the head of this work to see to it that the work was done properly, stood farthest in. The first movement took place on the bank, where certain parties caught a sheep and handed it to the first man in the water. It was thrown on its back and swayed from side to side for a little, and then handed to his next neighbor, and so on through all the parties to the end, when it was turned around on its belly, with its head to the shore, where it soon swam out. As this standing in the water for three or four hours was considered as rather a cold business, it was invariably the custom for the farmer to supply all the parties in the work with plenty of Whiskey; care, however, had to be taken not to give too much, ‘til the work was done. And then it was quite a common thing to see both men and women, and I may say, also boys, going staggering home in such a way that they could scarcely walk. I was at one of these washings that I had the first sensation of what it was to be drunk. I had occasion to drive some of the sheep from the washing back to their pasture, and in doing this, once or twice I stumbled and fell. I looked to see if any person saw me, and really felt ashamed of myself. I then formed a resolution that for the future I would always drink in moderation and not become a fool before the world. I had at that time never heard of total abstinence, and like many others, considered Whiskey as one of the creatures of God.

The next event in my shepherd life was the sheep shearing. This was generally done by the neighboring shepherding, assisting each other, and also by engaging certain parties who made sheep shearing a special business as the season came around. I commenced shearing the second year we came to this farm, and some of the strong sheep I found at first a little hard to hold and manage. However, I felt encouraged by the countenance of the old farmer whose name was Andrew Robertson. He directed me how to hold the sheep and also how to apply the shears, and by thus taking a pride in this matter, I soon attained to that perfection that very few could compete with me, and thus verified the old adage: “That they who learn young learn fair.”

Another even in my shepherd life was the Lambing Season. And here I may mention that all the sheep on this farm were of the long wool, pure Lecoster breed. These, it is well known, are more tender and require more attention and shelter in the lambing season than certain others. It was the practice on this farm at that season to bring the ewes who were kept warm and sheltered, and where they could be waited on at all hours by the shepherd. Here, he could go out at any hour with his lantern and attend to any that might require his help and skill. We were allowed to have our headquarters in the farm kitchen, where we kept a fire and made ourselves comfortable as circumstances would permit. This season lasted a month or more, and I took my turn every alternate night with my father. Some of these nights we were kept very busy having it out and in every hour. In this way I could sleep for a few minutes and then go out on duty and come in again and sleep. I think this gave me a sort of habit in after life, for I can take a short nap either through the day or the night and wake up and feel refreshed. This I know is not generally the case.

On the high grounds of this farm near to the Beaumont Forest, were a good deal of young plantation and the cover for game. These were protected, as they are still, with very strict laws. I had received instruction from some of the neighboring shepherds as to the best methods of snaring hares in a wire gin. I had here a fine opportunity for carrying out this business. As when looking after the sheep I could also have my eye on the place where a hare had a regular run, and where a small wire noose properly adjusted would either hang the hare or hold it a prisoner ‘til I came to relieve it. The great thing in this business was to do it without being seen or suspected, for should any of the gamekeepers see me or the farmer or any of his sons, not only would I be liable to a heavy fine and imprisonment, but my father would have lost his situation at the first term.

I may mention that the proper season to catch and entrap this game was in the fall and winter half year, as only then it had a market value. Now while attending the sheep through the day, I generally had all the places looked out to set the snares in the evening, when “Twilight grey had in her sober livery all things clad.” It was indispensable that I should be up early to attend the sheep, but more especially to have my eye upon the snares. If any hares were caught they were at once concealed and all snares were removed and hid away. One necessary appendage to a shepherd was his plaid. These were made with nook or corner which formed a sort of a bag. In this, two or three hares at the left elbow could be covered with the other part of the plaid as nothing could be seen below. In this way I came home to breakfast, but with caution, lest any stranger should be in the house. I sometimes caught rabbits and partridges, but hares were the most valuable. These I readily sold for eighteen pence each or three shillings, and they were ultimately disposed of at the Edinburgh market. This was done through the village of the name of Richardson, who carried on this business in a systematic way. One of the sons, whose name was Tom, came regularly round with cart through our district every Saturday. He gathered eggs and had at the same time a supply of salt, soap, sugar, snuff, and tobacco. The father went into Edinburgh every week with his large cart with the products his sons had collected, and then bringing back with him the various things for their country customers.

The house in which we lived stood by itself nearly half a mile from the farm, being all the better for doing business in a secret way. As Tom Richardson came around, he left his cart at the roadside and came into the house with an empty basket and a large sacken bag over his arm. Then he asked my mother what eggs she had, and what other things she might be wanting. If no stranger was in the house, there was another question—had she anything for the bag today? This was understood if there were any hares, and it was seldom, but there were some—sometimes as many as three or four. This, with the eggs, supplied the family with groceries and other things and also a little extra change. I had thus no compunction of conscience in violating the game laws, which are only a relic of aristocratic ascendancy, and will no doubt be modified when the working classes are endowed with their rights of political power.

After the Battle of Waterloo, when the corn laws and other unjust edicts were taking effect, there was a time of great distress and dissatisfaction among the manufacturing and working classes. There were some great meetings in which there was rioting and radical expression, which was at once put down by calling out the military forces. Even the newspapers of that time had to use great caution, as there were certain laws existing which made it a heavy fine with imprisonment for the writing or printing, and even the possession of certain books of a political character. I can well recollect of getting a loan of Paine’s “Rights of Man”, and I got great caution not to show it, but to read it on the sly.

It was about this time in 1818 that the Edinburgh Weekly Scotsman first came out. It was a Liberal Whig and showed the old tricks of Toriem, and especially that a British subject had certain rights and that taxation and representation should go together. When my father first heard of this paper, he had great desire to become a reader. But then the price was far beyond his reach. At that time there was a heavy tax on paper, with stamps on all newspapers, and what with one thing and another, the price of the paper was nine pence. It really seemed that the ruling powers at that time were determined to keep the great mass of people poor and ignorant. But where there is a will, there is a way, and my father devised a plan to get the paper both for himself and others. At the farm, there were eight plowsmen and a steward, who lived in a range of cottage houses. Altogether he found that if each of these would pay a penny a week, he would write and procure the paper. This they consented to do, and so it came by post to the village of Weaton, where some of our family attending school brought it home in the evening. The plan for reading it the first night was for all the parties to meet at one of their houses, have all the principle news read and discussed and then every one to have it a night for themselves afterwards. As I mentioned before, our house was about one half mile from the others, and I well recollect what a great pleasure it was for me to go down with my father and have the paper read. I was generally the reader under my father’s supervision. Some of these plowmen were not much skilled in either politics or literature, and the old man, having seen and known something of the world, was in the way of making certain explanation, which made the reading much more interesting and profitable. We had good reason to believe that our time and money was well spent and that what we were doing was an example to others. There was one little incident that came out of this which I shall relate. There was an old acquaintance of my father, a Thomas Laidlaw, who had a sort of intellectual twist of mind, but being what was called a “spademan” or “day laborer” and having a large family was in poor circumstances, but being a reader and a keen political observer, he thought he would try the same plan as my father had done to procure the reading of the Scottsman. The farm on which he lived was that of Viersknow, in the parish of Eckford, and was tended by a great farmer by the name of Walker. He talked about the paper, submitted his plan and got it in the same way as my father. But a circumstance here transpired which shows ho the working classes were subjected to the will of their employers at the time. The great Walker, the farmer, had heard that his servants were reading such a paper, and so when the first of March came around, at the time when the yearly engagements were made, the Steward got instructions to say that all who had been reading the Scottsman Newspaper must either give it up or otherwise they could not be engaged for another year. That, of course, ended the matter and the paper was given up.

These were hard times for the working classes. There was a superabundance of laborers at that time, much more than could find employment, and of course, wages were very low. The highest wage for a Spadman or day laborer was 18 pence per day. Women wages for outdoor farmwork: 10pence or a penny and hour. This state of things continued until new fields or emigration was opened up and greater facilities for travel both by land and sea.

My father had a great wish to go out to America again, but could not for the time, as he had lent all his money (about 80 pounds) to certain parties who could not pay up at that time, but promised to pay. So, he continued as a shepherd on the farm of Ladyrig with my assistance, for the space of five years. I can well recollect about that time that a great many people who had a thought of going out to America, used to call and consult with my father about their passage and how best to get up through the country after landing. He was thus enabled to give good information, not only from having been there himself, but from books of geography with maps, which he used to trace from New York up the Hudson to Albany and then up the Hudson or Mohawk Valley, and up the Gennesse, the great wheat region in York State, and soon to the Great Lakes. Some parties were going south to the state of Ohio, the way which was also pointed out on the map. At that time, there was another thing which was greatly talked about as the greatest improvement ever made in the country---the Great Erie Canal. Its whole course was traced out to its connection with Lake Erie and then its farther connection with the great state of Ohio and then with the river of that name, and then with the great Mississippi to the sea. Altogether, a future prospect great and grand, such were some of the flattering prospects held out before the emigrants at that time. But what a change has come over, not only in the United States, but all over the world since that day. The power of steam, both by land and sea, with accompanying electric service and the telegraph, has revolutionized the world. The ends of the earth have been brought together and we see knowledge is being multiplied abundantly.

My father left the farm of Ladyrig in 1821 and engaged as shepherd at the Wooden, a farm in the parish of Eckford. I was now free to work at my own hand, as is the common Scotch phrase, with those who have no direct engagement. For three-forths of a year, I found in spadwork and harvest on this and one of the adjoining farms. My wages were 18 pence per day, except the harvest month, which was 12 shillings per week with victuals.

In the course of the summer, I got acquainted with a man by the name of Robert Renwick, who had a market garden of his own and at the same time wrought some of the farmer’s gardens in the neighborhood. He was a man of intelligence, had read a good deal, and had seen and known something of the world. He had more garden work than he could rightly accomplish, so I made an engagement to work with him in the spring of 1822. In this way we wrought together for the space of eight years in the most pleasant and agreeable manner. Our wages were 18 pence per day with victuals and board. As we had often a week or more of that work in the season for which we had extra pay, and I generally took a month of harvest work which was then all done with the sickle, having the usual fare of oatmeal porridge and milk, morning and evening, with a loaf of wheat bread and a quart of beer for dinner. It was often hard work for both young and old, but a very independent life for those who could do their darg.

There was another thing, which I learned from Robert Renwick, and that was cutting and trimming hedges. Many of the gardens, being partly enclosed by a wall for growing fine fruit and the remainder by a beech hedge, which was trimmed once or twice a year. This work is all done with the hedge knife. There is a certain art and skill in handling it, so as to make it cut easily. I recollect that Renwick put me through the whole order of the work. First by keeping a loose elbow joint, while the knife is held firmly, then striking at a certain angle, as to make a clean cut. There are knives of all dimensions. Some are light and a little hook shaped for cutting the one-year sprays, and some are strong and heavy for cutting down an old hedge with stems as thick as your arm. We had often a job of this kind in winter, when we could not dig and do garden work, by contracting with the farmers to do this work or to dress the hedges for miles along each side of the public roads. In this gardening and hedgework, both Renwick and myself found a sort of independence, as we could have a day or a week or more at any time for our own pleasure.

I think it was in the end of 1822 and the beginning of 1823 that I first visited the city of Edinburgh. That city had been honored with a visit from his Royal Highness, George IV. This last year the new buildings, especially in the “New Town” were at that time going on with a great boom. It so happened that Mrs. Renwick had a sister married in Edinburgh, who was sometimes in the way of visiting her friends in the country in summer while they in turn, made a reciprocal visit in winter. Robert Renwick proposed that if I would make a visit to Edinburgh with him, it would cost me no more than traveling expenses. This I concluded to do, and so we started from Kelso, with the stagecoach at 8 o’clock in the morning. I had never been out of the country of Roxburgh before and therefore I started with high prospects. The fare, I think, was altogether ten shillings, eight-coach fare, and the other for the guard and driver. This was outside fare on the top of the coach, which to me was greatly preferable, as from this I could much better see the various laces and the country as we passed along. We went by the way of Smailholm and changed horses at Eastston. Then up the leader water to Lauder and on to Carfae Mill, where there was an Inn and another change of horses. This stage was considered about half way to the city, from this two miles up the glen and then we were at the foot of Soutre Hill. Then the winding up and round about this hill took some little time. But after getting up and along the ridge for a mil, we came to an Inn with stabling called Louries Den, and I well recollect of seeing a large board placed against the side of the house with the motto of invitation, “Come taste of the Porter, you’ll find the road a great deal shorter.” We now descended the hill and passed several other places of note, till we came to the old town of Dalkeith, and then along the throng-road of 7 miles to Edinburgh. When we came into the city things seemed to look awful big to me. The oil lamps were just being lighted (gas having not yet been introduced). This with the coal smoke hanging over gave me the first introduction to Auld Reckie. The coach stopped at High Street on the east corner of North Bridge. There were a great many men, they called porters with ropes and straps round their shoulders to carry any trunk or other baggage, which passengers might have, to their destination. Mr. Renwick engaged one to carry his trunk to No. 2 Northumberland, in the New Town. We walked after him, and this was my first view of what then was to me the Great City. After seeing the friends and having refreshments for an hour or two, one of the party, a young man, proposed to take out and show me some of the principle parts of the city by lamp light. It was all strange to me, but I recollect we crossed Princess Street, passed up what was called the Mound, which was then only a narrow Strip of what it is now. And I recollect, up near the top, a little below where the Free Church Assembly Hall now stands, there were some Shows, and my friend and guide gave me a treat to go in and see the performances of one of them. After some Sleigh- hand tricks were gone through, and some other thing---a Learned Pig was introduced which could spell out certain words that were required by selecting from an Alphabet of Cards, which were lying promiscuous, those in their order that made the perfect word.

We then went up and down High Street, where among many others, were a great many Soldiers going up and down from the Castle. And here I met with a little surprise which was a Soldier walking with two young Ladies, with whom I got acquainted the last year in the Harvest Field: this was at the Farm of Court Hill, about three miles from Kelso. The Soldier urged me to take one of the girls, but I knew that they bore the character of what is called Free and Easy, and so I suppose they were carrying out their Soree in the big City. In going down High Street, my guide showed me some of the big things and also some of the little bad things. These last were a certain Class of young women standing about the head of Winds on each side of the Street, and if you looked at them, would at once put the question, “Ar e guan te take is wie the night?” I have often met them in other parts of the City looking for their game. Our visit lasted for about ten days, so that in that time I had a good opportunity of seeing the many great sights of the City and its surroundings.

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