A Yankee bachelor abroad; a "wee bit" of wit and fun and some sober facts gathered during my fourteen months' sojourn in the British isles and some parts of the continent

Preface

F

REQUENTLY I have heard the remark made that those returning home from their first visit to Europe have a keen edge on their desire to again visit those lands across the sea.

I found it so in my case and embraced the first opportunity that presented itself.

After a sojourn of fourteen months in the British Isles and some parts of the continent, I bring to the reader a few bundles of facts, through which I have spun some humorous threads, and others that to some may seem rather sober.

These bundles may not be tied as neatly as some would have tied them, but- the reader I trust will kindly take the contents without criticising the wrappings. • C. J. BUTLER. b^ Sept. 4, 1901.

Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter 8, Chapter g.

Chapter lo.

Chapter ii. Chapter 12, Chapter 13

Chapter 14, Chapter 15.

Chapter 16.

Chapter 17.

Chapter 18.

Chapter 19.

Chapter 20.

Chapter 21.

Chapter 22.

Chapter 23.

Chapter 24.

Chapter 25.

Chapter 26.

Chapter 27.

Chapter 28.

Chapter 29.

Chapter 30.

Chapter 31.

Chapter 32.

Chapter 33.

Chapter 34- Chapter 35.

Chapter 36.

Chapter 37.

Contents

Page

Voyage Across the Atlantic 7

Bonnie Scotland 20

Chapter III. Enroute For Stirling

IS this train for Stirling?" I inquired of one of the guards. ''No, yon train is the Stirlin' train/' he repHed.

Shortly after seating myself in "yon train," was speeding away toward my destination.

"This is a beautiful section of the country," I remarked to a man sitting near me.

"This is a bonnie part of Scotland," he repHed. "Most of these towns we have passed through have a very interesting history connected with them. You are a stranger about here," he further remarked.

"Yes," I replied. "Although I was here about five years ago, it seems quite new to me."

"What part of the world do you come from, sir?"

"From America; I just landed in Greenock this morning."

"You have a great many of our people in your country," he remarked.

"Yes, and they have done a great deal toward making our great Republic."

"I should like to visit America, but fancy I will never have the privilege," he said. Then pointing to a flag-staff off in the distance, said, "There is an ineresting spot to every Scotchman. That is the old Bannockburn battlefield."

In travelling through the country I heard the people speak with a great deal of pride of Bruce and Wallace and old Bannockburn. A short ride from this point brought us into Stirling just as the sun was hiding behind the great hills that surround this historic old place. Stirling is a very ancient town. Five centuries before Arthur's time it was a Roman station, and four centuries after, a Northumbrian Fortress. It has a population of 16,000. The buildings are stone,' ranging from two to five stories. The business portion of the town contains some fair sized stores and, judging from the fine homes in the residential portion, many of the merchants have been very successful. In the old part of the town, there are a number of long, narrow, winding streets on either side of which are many quaint houses having the appearance of beingbuilt when Stirling was in its infancy. From some of the streets run little closes (or courts), most of them wretched looking places, and the occupants seemed to be in keeping with their surroundings.

One day in passing one of these closes I heard the sound of angry voices, and soon found it to be two auburn-haired sisters who were badly shaken up by the ^'fall." They passed out the Scotch expressions in a way that brought forth a roar of laughter from the motley crowd of spectators who seemed anxious to see a hair-pulHng exhibition by these two old lassies, but they simply fought it out with their tongues.

A little farther down the street there were two of the worst looking women I had seen in all my travels. They were well charged with Scotch whisky. They had their ''wee bairns" wrapped in shawls and carried them in queer style. One of them had her's strapped on her back in pappoose fashion and held it by the two ends of the shawl. The other had her bairn tied in a part of her shawl and carried it at her side, the way that I saw many of the mothers carrying their children. Both of the women were roUing like a ship in a storm. In passing, one of them ran against me, and in doing so struck the child's head on the sharp edge of my autoharp, causing the little one to cry out lust-

iiy-

''I am very sorry; it was purely accidental," I said to the woman.

"Oh, it does na matter, it was na your fault," she replied.

"What's the trouble?" said the other woman, as she staggered over towards us.

"Oh, the wee bairn struck its head against the mon's fuddle," she repHed.

Two desperate looking men came out of a low groggery and joined the women, and the quartette got into a dispute and the last we saw of them they were in the middle of the street, having a free fight, while some of the same stripe of humanity were trying to rescue the bairns.

Stirling, like every other place, has its slum district, and the men and women lii^ng in that locality evidently have found, as have similar characters the world over, that failing to keep a firni hold on the reins of passion means wTeck and ruin

Chapter IV. The Old Castle

iP

HE old castle is one of the most interesting places in Stirling. It stands on a ledge of rocks on a very high hill overlooking the town. It was a royal residence as far back as 990. Alexander I died in this castle in 1124. It was besieged by Edward I who brought with him all the besieging implements from London, and not until one of those terrible engines called the "Wolf" was brought to bear on the castle, was it surrendered. It was afterward captured by King David. It was a royal residence under the Stewarts. James the II and James V were born here. In one of the rooms are a number of relics which belonged to James III, and others belonging to James V. In the Douglass room is a magnificent stained glass window, a gift of Queen Victoria in memory of William, Earl of Douglass, who was murdered by James II who stabbed him in the throat.

From the battlements one gets a splendid view of the town and the surrounding country. Ofif in one direction is a beautiful valley dotted with farms and little villages with the links of the Forth winding in serpentine style through the valley, while off in the distance can be seen Ben Lomond, Ben Venue, Ben A'an, Ben Ledi, huge mountains lifting their heads from two to three thousand feet above the sea. Then can be seen old Abbey Craig, with its wooded brow only a short distance from the town, and other smaller hills making a picture of which any lover of nature would not tire.

One day I took what is called the ''back walk," leading up to the castle. It is a broad gravel walk, winding around the hill. The rocks on the sides form a complete wall. I came across a Httle nook in the side of a huge rock in which were seats arranged in semicircle form, and above the seats was a tablet with these words: ''To accommodate the aged and infirm who had long resorted to this spot on the account of the warmth and shelter from every wind, these seats were erected 1817." Also a stone erected "In honor of Wm. Edmonson, contriver of this walk, 1724."

Along the walk, back of the castle, the rocks seemed to be piled up in various forms. One of them had fallen over a small chasm, one end of which rested on a rock on the opposite side, forming a bridge. It attracted the attention of many of the passers-by. Seating myself under a ledge of rocks near by, I feasted my eyes on the grandeur of the scenery all about me. It was a July day, but the cool breezes made me feel like donning a light overcoat. It hardly seemed possible that in far-away America they were tusselling with a hot wave which I learned through the Glasgow papers had pushed the thermometer up to a hundred in the shade.

"It is very hot," my friends would frequently say to me.

I smiled and said, "You would think it quite pleasant here to what it is in 'Yankee Land.' "

While seated in this cleft of the rock, a fine looking old gentleman came over to rne and began a conversation. On learning I was an American, he said to me, as his face brightened up :

"I have a son in your country, and it does not seem to be such a far-off country as it did before he went over there. He is Hving in San Francisco," and added, "He wrote me a short time ago, and said he was just as far from New York as I was."

"Well," I said, "that is true. It is 3,000 miles from New York to San Francisco."

"Why, I can scarcely realize that you have such an immense country," he remarked. "We think a journey of 500 miles is a long one, but to take one of 3,000 miles is more than I can grasp." He gave me his card and wished me to call and see him when I came to Edinburgh. He was interested in the Seamen's Mission in that city.

The old Castle is used as an infantry barracks. There were several hundred soldiers quartered there. We became acquainted with some of the lads. They took great pleasure in showing us through their quarters, which seemed to be quite comfortable. Among them were a number of the Scottish Highlanders. Their kelts, sashes, gay plaid stockings and rimless caps to me seemed rather an odd uniform. One of the boys informed me there were seven yards of material in one of the kelts and he found them rather weighty. Most of these brave lads went to the seat of war in South Africa, which broke out a feAV months after my visit to the castle, and many of them fell while storming the strongly fortified hills of that far-ofif country. Homes are now desolate all over the British Isles because these noble fellows are no more.

While conversing with some of the lads, an excursion party came into the castle gate'. Among thecn were two Scotch lassies.

''I'm wanderin' where they're from?" said one of the soldiers, which remark was overheard by the lassies.

One of them quicld)^ turned and said in broad Scotch: ''Ye'll be wanderin' a lang time before ye'll ken."

The boys laughed heartily and the lad took his change very quietly. One of the boys said : "You'll no be sayin' any mair to that lass."

On coming from the castle to the cemetery, which is on the slope of the hill where sleep many of Scotland's honored dead, we met an old blind man begging.

"It's a foin day," he said as he kit about with his cane and came over to us. At once we knew what his salutation meant. He was talking for a copper.

In a conversation with him we learned he had been at this point for eight years soliciting alms.

"I've no seen the licht of day for five and twenty years," he said. "I was a sailor and one day at sea was accidentally struck across the eyes with a chain and was blinded." And then added in a very pathetic tone of voice, "Me folk are all in the old cemetery save one, and he was drooned at sea."

The old man had a huge blessing for those who dropped a coin in his hand.

This cemetery contains many fine monuments of various kinds. There was one in particular which attracted my attention when visiting the cemetery several years ago. I was again interested in reading the many inscriptions it contained. It is a beautiful marble monument in the alcove of which were two finely sculptured figures which represented two excellent Christian girls who, rather than renounce their faith and trust in Christ, consented to be tied to a stake on the Solway ti-de and let the angry waves sweep over them.

We came to the plot where Professor Henry Drummond's remains had been recently interred. Standing by the grave of that excellent Christian man, I thought of the words uttered by the Apostle Paul: ''He being dead, yet speaketh." It occurred to me it would be a very appropriate inscription to place on his monument. While this good man has been called from his life of usefulness to his reward above, his books, the product of his fertile brain and heart, warmed by the spirit of Christ his Master, will be read with interest and great profit by coming generations. He was the Sunday school teacher of one of my friends in Stirling and he was very loud in his praise of Mr. Drummond as a Christian gentleman. He was a bachelor on the sunny side of fifty. He left a widowed mother, who still lives in their fine old mansion, surrounded by splendidly laid out grounds on the suburbs of Stirling. She is a woman that commands the love and respect of the entire community.

While in the cemetery we met a typical old Irishman. He was dressed as they did in the long ago. He wore knee breeches with bright metal buckles and a long pair of yarn stockings, low shoes and a very ancient looking coat and hat. In conversation with him he said : "Vm from ould Ireland, and I'm proud of it. I left it many years ago and would like to go back again, but don't think I ever shall/'

"Well, there is no place so dear as one's native land, I replied.

'That's true, sir," he said. "I should like to see my old home once more." Then pointing to the plot where he informed us lay the remains of several of his children, said : "But I suppose my old Scotch lass will be hiding me away here in a short time." Then straightening up and looking me in the eye, said: "I'm 78 years old and as good a mon as I iver was. When I was young, I feared the face of no mon," and then striking a fighting attitude, added, "and I don't mind them yet."

He convinced me by his scientific movements that he well understood the art of discoloring a man's eye.

In speaking of the government, he said : "The Bible says, 'Go ye into all the world and preach my gospel to every creature,' but the English government says, 'Take ye a gun and go ye out and kill and plunder, and bring the spoils to London and thou shalt be blest."

There was a tall, slender, old woman who came over and seated herself on one of the graves. She had a bag of new mown grass which she had just gathered.

"That's my old Scotch lass," he said as he pointed to the old woman. "She was pretty nice when I married her, but she's gettin' 'crookeder' all the time." She leaned her elbow on the bag of grass and gave him a look that led us to think that the old lady was well able to look after her own interest.

One of the care-takers came over and said : "That old man has reared some great lads. Why, but for them the Stirling courts would have had little to do."

"Well," the old man replied, "I built one jail and do what I can to keep it filled, but that old lass sittin'

there always has the shilHns to get the lads out." He began to whistle an Irish jig and to dance the same. ''You ought to be getting ready to take your place beside those sleeping here," I remarked, pointing to graves, and added, ''moving day is coming."

He quieted his feet and with a merry twinkle in his eye, said : "Sure, I'll be ready for moving day when it comes, sir."

I bade him and his old lass good-bye, thinking it would be a long time before I would forget the jolly old Irishman that caused me to laugh so heartily, even though my surroundings were of such a character as to make one rather pensive. At the entrance of the cemetery are two old churches. One of them is called the church of the "Grey Friars." It was erected in 1494 by King James IV. In this church James VI was crowned in 1 567. John Knox preached the coronation sermon. The pulpit from which the sermon was preached and a »umber of old relics were on exhibition in the old Guildery near by. On the tower of one of these churches once fortified agaiast the castle by General Monk in 1651 and by the Jacobites in 1746, and which still bears the marks of bullets, is a very quaint notice. It reads as follows :

"Charges in the old church yard: For a person 12 years old and upward, in two-horse hearse, 12 shillings ; or shoulders high, one-horse hearse, 8 shillings ; 12 years old and upward, if on spokes, 6 shillings; graves for child 2 years old, if in hearse or carried in the yard, 2-6 note. The sum of 6-8 and i€ shillings include a bag for bones. In case in digging the grave they found the bones of any one previously buried they were put in the bag anil re-interred.

One of my friends was telling me that it was customary in Scotland a few years ago, and is yet in some places, to collect for the digging of the grave before the friends left the church yard. There was an old close-fisted man that lost his wife and after the remains had been lowered in the grave, the sexton stepped up to collect his bill. The old man gave him the amount, minus one shilling. The sexton called his attention to it.

The old man said: 'T'll gie ye na maire."

^'Doon with the other shillin','' said the sexton, "'or up she cooms."

The old man concluded to let the old lady rest, and came doon with the ''other shillin'."

There is an epitaph in this old cemetery to which the guides are very particular to show the visitors. It reads as follows :

"Our life is like a winter's day; Some only breakfast and away, And others to dinner stay and are full fed. The oldest man but sups and goes to bed. Large is his debt who lingers out the day; He who goes soonest has the least to pay."

Stirling has a number of large and substantial looking banks and also a number 'of fine schools Avhich are well patronized, judging from the great number of children that one sees.

There are a large number of churches scattered over the town, and one would think from the multitude of people seen on the streets on Sunday wending their way to the various places of worship that most of the people of this old town had a religious turn of mind. The Presbyterians are the leading denomination, having several large churches. The Baptists seemed to be the second strongest in numbers, the next *being the Episcopal Church. The Methodists only have one church, with a very small congregation. The pastor of this church was a very excellent man and I spent several pleasant evenings with him and his family in their home, in company with some of the members of his church. A few days after rendering some service in their Sabbath School by singing, accompanied with the autoharp, I was going over Gowan Hill to the castle, and as I drew near a group of little girls, one of them shouted :

"Here comes the man that played the fiddle in our Sunday School."

Thinking to draw them out in conversation, I stopped and began talking with them, but found them rather shy, like most of the Scotch children.

One day I received an invitation to attend a wedding at the Episcopal Church. I was not acquainted with the contracting parties, but received it through my friend, who was intimate with the groom. He insisted on me going, even though I did have to do so alone, as it was impossible for him to attend. I made my way to the church through a drenching rain, not that I had never seen a couple launch out on the sea of matrimony, but had some curiosity to see how they did it in Bonnie Scotland. On presenting my card to one of the ushers, was shown to a seat near the front. Two young men sat in the front pew who seemed very much interested in watching the guests as they came in. When the bride came up the aisle, leaning on the arm of a large, fine looking fellow whom I supposed was the groom, one of these young men left his seat and took his position near the chancel and she, on reaching there, loosened her hold on the supposed groom and grasped the arm of the young man in waiting, and I soon learned that he was the lad of her choice. It was quite understood why he watched the door so closely. I had never known the groom to be so far in the advance of the bride, but bachelors are not supposed to be very well versed in matrimonial customs. The rector was a long time in tying the nuptial knot. I thought if they desired a little later on to have it untied (as some do), they would have some difficulty in having it done, even though they came over to one of our western states where they so easily sever the matrimonial knot.

One evening in company with a friend I went down along the banks of the winding Firth, which is navigable for small crafts as far as Stirling. Then we crossed the meadows to Abbey Craig and climbed to its summit. It was a long, tiresome journey, and more than once said to my friend, 'T shall not be able to scale the mount." But he urged me on by telling me of the grand view I would get from its peak. On reaching the top I was amply repaid. The scenery from this point was sublime. Far below was the old town, and a short distance away was the Bridge of Allen, a health resort, and across the valley nestled the quaint little village of Cambusbaron. It was nearly 10 o'clock when we came down from that huge pile of mother earth and rocks, and darkness had just began to settle down on the old world. In the summer evenings quite often they have the twilight nearly all night. But in the winter season it grows dark much earlier than in America.

A drove of Highland cattle interested me very much, which two men had brought from far up in the highlands. Two fine shepherd dogs were rendering them great assistance in keeping the cattle in line. These cattle are quite small and have long, shaggy hair, their forelocks being of great length — most of them touching their nose. They have large horns extending out some distance, then shghtly bowed.

In company with some friends, I spent an evening with a blind couple. They were very talented. He was a fine musician and she had a literary turn of mind. They had both been blind from childhood, but notwithstanding their blindness, they had not escaped the darts of cupid. They had a ''wee bairn" and it was interesting as well as touching to see that mother bending over the cradle soothing the little one when it became restless. When it lifted up its voice and struck notes which are usually discordant to a bachelor, she tenderly gathered it up and sang a lullaby that she wrote on the ''Bairn." Her husband rendered some very classical music. The evening spent with the blind couple was a very enjoyable one.

I met several of the friends of my former visit and added many others to the list during my fortnight in Stirling and vicinity.

Chapter V. Bannockburn

@NE afternoon I rode from Stirling on a ''Break'' to the old Bannockburn battlefield. The ride was a very pleasant one. We passed through the old Saint Inians district. Many of the houses were very old. The terminus of the line was at another very ancient looking village which was some distance beyond the point where I should have gotten ofT, but concluded to continue the journey to the old town. On leaving the "Break," I saw a crowd gathered around some small tents. My curiosity led me to go over and learn the cause of this gathering. On doing so I found it was a gypsy encampment. One of the old sisters had a spirit akin to that of the witch of Endor, and she was doing a thriving business, but my faith in her ability to foretell future events was not sufficient for me to give her my patronage. When a lad, in company with a friend, I visited one of these professedly wise old bodies and left a hard-earned piece of silver with her for a -little bundle of startling events that were to come my wa}^, but as yet have failed to become facts. After remaining a short time at this point I inquired my way of a man to the battlefield.

"Take yon street," he said, "and it will lead you to a mill and just beyond the race you will find stepping stones across the brook. Follow the path on yon side and it will lead you to within a short distance of the battle ground.

I went as he directed to the mill and then through an old farm yard to the stepping stones, and crossed the brook and walked along a beautiful road on one side of which this little stream came tumbling down over the rocks. Missing my way, I came out into a field where some boys were playing foot ball.

''Will you direct me to Bannockburn?" I asked a very odd looking boy. He made no reply but simply gazed at me in a dazed condition.

"What do you want?" said another boy as he came up to me. When I informed him, he said :

"Oh, just go to yon stone steps and that will lead you to yon field and it is straight across." When I left the boys, I overheard the odd looking lad shout : "Eh, he's gaen to yon flag staff."

I climbed the stone stairway leading up to the wheat field and took the well-beaten path beside the hedge. In the adjoining field were a number of men and women hoeing. When they saw my huge form towering far above the hedge rows they rested on their hoes and cast some very inquiring looks over toward me. A short walk brought me out to the little village and I soon found my way to this historic old battlefield. On the top of a hill is the Borestone which once held the old flag beside which Bruce stood and directed the battle that made him famous and which won the independence of Scotland, until the Scotch voluntarily put themselves under the flag of Old England. As I stood beside the flag staff, from the top of which was fiying the Union Jack, and loodek out over that beautiful valley with those great hills rolling ofT in the distance, I fancied I could see those warriors of centuries ago engaged in that terrible conflict, and imagined I could hear the groans of the wounded and dying that broke the silence that seemed to pervade that spot. Seating myself on a bench, I quite enjoyed the fine scenery stretching out in all directions. Near me sat a man and two women who were using the broad Scotch quite freely. His vision was dimmed by an overdose of Scotch whisky, but it had loosened his tongue so that it was running at a rapid rate. Presently he turned to me and said :

"Are ye Scotch?"

"No," I replied, "I am a Yankee."

"Gie me yer hand," he said, as he extended his brawny hand toward me. I did so and Scotland and America shook warmly. Then he said something in Scotch to the w^omen that convulsed them with laughter. Not feeling quite sure about my nationality, he said to me :

"Are ye English?"

"No, I guess not," I replied.

He gave me a sharp look and said, 'Ye had better no be 'guessin' aboot here."

"Well, are you Scotch?" I inquired. He gave a vacant laugh and said : "I think so, but I'm no sure." The trio began spinning some very dark threads through their conversation which I concluded would not be very edifying, so I beat a hasty retreat.

After spending some time in looking around the old battlefield, turned my steps back to Stirling. On my way back I passed several little thatched and tile-roofed cottages. Some of them were quite attractive being newly white-washed and rose bushes in full bloom climbing up the sides and fronts of the cottages. In going through the St. Inian's district, I came to an old church in which stands a very ancient looking tower. Curious to know something of its history, I stopped and made some inquiry about it. It was once the tower of an old church used by the Jacobites in 1746 as a magazine. On learning of the approach of the Duke of Cumberland, they blew the church up and left the tower. There were a number of tombs in the church-yard dating as far back as 1632. I visited so many old graveyards in England, Ireland and Scotland that I finally concluded it could be said of me like one in the Scriptures : "He dwelt among the tombs." While in the church-yard, two young men came near and they engaged in conversation with me about the old tower and finally said to me :