About luncheon time we began to look longingly for the expected inn, but there was no habitation to be seen, and we became suspicious that, notwithstanding the mile-stones, which stood up and told us the lie which was half the truth (ever the blacker lie), we were not upon the right road to Edinburgh. At this juncture we met a shepherd with his collies, and learnt from him that we were still twelve miles from an inn. It was a cool, breezy day; the air had the "nip" in it which Maggie missed so in England, and we were famishing. There was nothing else to do but to stop where we were, at the pretty burn, and tarry there for entertainment for man and beast.

As proof of our temperance, please note that the flasks filled with sherry, whiskey, and brandy, at Brighton, I believe, as reserve forces for emergencies, still had plenty in them when called for to-day; and rarely has a gla.s.s of spirits done greater good, the ladies as well as we of the stronger s.e.x feeling that a gla.s.s was necessary to keep off a chill. We were "o'er the moors among the heather" in good earnest to-day, but how soon we were all set to rights and laughing over our frolic! The shepherd and his dogs lunched with us, and many a glint of Scottish shepherd life did we get from his conversation. He was a happy, contented man, and ever so grateful that he was not condemned to live in a city. He thought such a cramped-up life would soon kill him.

[Sidenote: _Sheep and Collies._]

Good-bye, my gentle shepherd and "Tweed" and "Rab," your faithful, sagacious companions. Your life leads to contentment, and where will you find that jewel when you leave mother earth and her products, her heather and her burns, your doggies and your sheep?

Davie, in Andrew M----'s absence, sang us that song whose prettiest verse, though all are fine, is this:

"See yonder paukie shepherd Wha lingers on the hill, His ewes are in the fauld And his sheep are lying still."

Softly, softly, pianissimo, my boy! These lines must be sung so, not loudly like the other verses. Andrew knows the touch.

"But he downa gang to rest, For his heart is in a flame To meet his bonnie la.s.sie, When the kye come hame."

And so we parted from our shepherd, the chorus of our song reaching him over the moors till he faded out of sight. I am sure we wish him weel.

Happiness is not all in the higher walks of life; and surely in virtue's paths the cottage leaves the palace far behind.

Another song followed, which I thought equally appropriate, for it tells us that "Ilka blade o' gra.s.s keps its ain drap o' dew." Ah, the shepherd's drops of the dew of life are often what princes vainly sigh for.

[Sidenote: _Arthur's Seat._]

After many miles up and down, we finally reached the top of the hill from which we saw lying before us, fourteen miles away, the modern Athens. There was no mistaking Arthur's Seat, the lion crouching there.

"Stop, Perry!" Three times three for the "Queen of the Unconquered North!" "What do you think of Scotland noo?" Match that city who can!

Not on this planet will you do it, search where you may.

It was only a few miles from where we now stood that Fitz Eustace, enraptured with the scene,

"And making demi-volte in air, Cried, Where's the coward that would not dare To fight for such a land!"

Fight for it? I guess so, to the death! Scotland forever!

We were about completing one stage of our journey, for Edinburgh had been looked forward to as one of the princ.i.p.al points we had to reach, and we were to rest there a few days before marching upon the more ancient metropolis, Dunfermline. Most of us had been steadily at work since we left Brighton, and the prospect of a few days' respite was an agreeable one; but after all it was surprising how fresh even the ladies were. Still, steady coaching is pretty hard work; none of us gained weight during the journey, but we all felt as if in condition just fit to do our very best in the way of athletic exercise.

Miss R----, a native of Edinburgh, was here called to the front, alongside of Perry, to act as guide into and through the city to our hotel in Prince's Street. The enthusiasm grew more and more intense as we came nearer and fresh views were obtained. There remained one more toll-gate, one of the few which have not yet been abolished. Joe had as usual gone forward to pay the toll, but the keeper declared she did not know the charge, as never since she kept toll had anything like that--pointing to the coach--pa.s.sed there. Was it any wonder that we attracted attention during our progress northward?

From one hill-top I caught sight of the sparkling Forth, beyond which lay "the dearest spot on earth to me." The town could not be seen, but when I was able to cry, "Dunfermline lies there," three rousing cheers were given for the "Auld gray Toon," my native city.

EDINBURGH, July 21-26.

[Sidenote: _Edinburgh._]

Our route lay through Newington, that we might leave the young artist at home. We tried to do it quietly, but our friend Mrs. H. was out and shaking hands with us ere we could drive off. Mr. MacGregor, of the Royal, had been mindful of us; a grand sitting room fronting on Prince's Street and overlooking the gardens gave us the best possible view, the very choice spot of all this choice city. The night was beautiful, and the lights from the towering houses of the old town made an illumination, as it were, in honor of our arrival. That the travellers were delighted with Edinburgh, that it more than fulfilled all expectations, is to say but little; and those who saw it for the first time felt it to be beyond all that they had imagined. Those of us who knew its picturesque charms were more than ever impressed with its superiority over all other cities. Take my word for it, my readers, there is no habitation of human beings in this world as fine in its way, and its way itself is fine, as this, the capital of Scotland.

The surprise and delight of my friends gave me much pleasure. Scotland had already won all hearts. They had admired England, but Scotland they loved. Ah, how could they help it! I loved her too, more deeply than ever.

It is best to disband a large party when in a city possessed of many and varied attractions, allowing each little group to see the sights in its own way; a.s.sembling, however, at breakfast and dinner, and spending the evenings together, recounting the day's adventures. This was the general order issued for Edinburgh.

The new docks at Leith were opened with much ceremony during our stay, and I took a party of our Edinburgh friends upon the coach to witness the opening. It was not a clear day, meteorologically considered, but nevertheless it was a happy one for the coaching party. Upon our return, a stop at Mr. N.'s magnificent residence was specially agreeable. He and his daughters were most kind to us while in Edinburgh. Mr. N. gave us a rare treat by showing us through their immense printing establishment, where such exquisite things are done, such Easter and Christmas cards, such friendship tokens, and a thousand other lovely forms we had never seen before, in their various stages of manufacture.

[Sidenote: _Valuable Importations._]

I asked Mr. N. what he had to say in reply to the admissions of the leading art authorities of the superiority of American work in black and white, such as our magazines excel in. He said this could not be questioned; there was nothing done in British publications that equalled the American. The reason he gave furnishes food for thought. I pray you, fellow countrymen, take note of it. Two princ.i.p.al American ill.u.s.trated magazines, _Harper's_ and the _Century_, print each more than one hundred thousand copies, while no British magazine prints half that number. The American publisher can consequently afford to pay twice as much as the British publisher for his ill.u.s.trations. If this be the true reason of America's superiority in this respect, and I am sure Mr. N.

knows what he is stating, then as its population increases more rapidly than the British the difference between their respective publications must increase, and finally drive the home article into a very restricted position. Pursuing this fact to its logical conclusion, Britain may soon receive from her giant child all that is best in any department of art which depends upon general support for success. This seems to me to betoken a revolution, not as implying the inherent superiority of the American, but simply flowing from the fact that fifty-five millions of English-speaking and reading people can afford to spend more for any certain article than thirty-five millions can. That Colonel Mapleson now brings over Her Majesty's Opera Company for the New York season as regularly as he opens his London season, and especially that he makes far more profit out of the former than out of the latter, is another significant fact. That leading actors find a wider field here than at home is still another, and even ministers are finding that the call of the Lord to higher labors and higher salaries often comes from the far side of the Atlantic. Drs. McCosh, Hall, Ormiston, and Taylor, our leading divines, get treble salaries in the Republic, and are said to be valuable importations. As Mr. Evarts said one night in a post-prandial effort: "They are about the only specimens of 'the cloth'

admitted duty free." As long as America sent Britain only pork and cheese and provisions, and such products of the soil, it was all well enough, but if she is beginning to send the highest things of life, the art treasures, which give sweetness and light to human existence, it is somewhat alarming. For my part, I do not like to think that these Americans are to send Britain every good thing, and that the once proud country that led the world is to stand receiving as it were the crumbs from this rich land's table. In one department America can be kept second for as long a term as we need worry about--she has nothing to compare with the leading English reviews. Our generation will see no close rival to the _Fortnightly_ or the _Nineteenth Century_, to _Blackwood_ or _Chambers' Journal_, or to the _Edinburgh_ or _Westminster Review_; although the _North American_ and the _International_ show that even in this race America enters two not indifferent steeds.

I must not forget to mention that the birds in the _Century_ magazine which the _Athenaeum_ p.r.o.nounced so far superior to any British work were designed by a young lady and engraved by her sister. The work of two American young ladies excelled the best of England; and then did not Miss Rosina Emmet send a Christmas greeting of her own composition to friends in England which took the second prize at the London Exhibition, although not intended for anything more than a private token of friendship. Let a note be made of all this, with three loving cheers for the young lady artists of the Republic. Instead of losing the charms of women by giving public expression to their love of the beautiful in all its forms, they but add one more indescribable charm which their less fortunate sisters can never hope to attain. How a man does reverence a woman who does fine things in art, literature, or music, or in any line whatever!

[Sidenote: _On a Yacht._]

The Charioteers gave leave of absence to the Scribe and General Manager to spend Sunday with my friends Mr. and Mrs. G., at Strathairly House, on the banks of the Forth. It was a most delightful visit. The Commodore of the Forth Yachting Squadron (for such Mr. G. is) had the Ranee ready to take us back to Edinburgh Monday morning. We enjoyed the sail down the Forth very much. That we could not accept the Commodore's invitation to change the Gay Charioteers into Bold Mariners for a day and visit St.

Andrews in the Ranee gave rise to deep regret, when the other members of the party were informed of the treat proposed; but we cannot glean every field upon our march. Some other time, Commodore, the recently elected member of the squadron will report for duty on the flagship and splice the main brace with you and your jolly crew. There is a craze for yachting in Britain, which is also showing its symptoms on this side. I am not at home in vessels much smaller than an Atlantic steamer. The Charioteers resolved unanimously that their yacht should have four wheels and four horses, and should run on land.

Upon our return to Edinburgh Monday morning, the first rumbling of the distant thunder from Dunfermline was heard, and it dawned upon us that serious work was at hand. Our friend Mr. D., of the Council, had called upon us and intimated that something of a demonstration might be made upon our arrival in my native town; but when I found a telegram from Mr.

Simpson, the clerk, asking us to postpone our coming for a day, I knew there was an end to play. Things looked serious, but I was not going to be the sole sufferer. At dinner I laid it down as the law from which there could be no appeal, that if any public speaking were to be done, Messrs. P., McC., K., the General Manager, and V., were in for it. It is surprising how much it mitigates one's own troubles to see his dearest friends more frightened than himself. I grew bolder as I encouraged these victims. Their speeches were bound to be hits--no speeches have so often created sensations as maiden efforts. The last two offered great inducements to the ladies if they would vote that they should be excused. As for the others, I made it a question of ministerial confidence, and the administration was sustained. If you read their speeches I am sure you will see the wisdom of my selections.

I was glad to see Sir Noel Paton, Dunfermline's most distinguished son, able to be at his sister's that evening. The recent narrow and heroic escape from drowning of himself, Lady Paton, and his son Victor, gave us all renewed interest in grasping his hand again. Thrown from a small sail-boat into the sea, at least two hundred yards from sh.o.r.e, with ropes and sail tangled about them, the three rallied to each other's support (for all could swim), and bore each other up until finally Lady Paton got between her husband and son, with one hand on the shoulder of each, and thus they struggled grandly to sh.o.r.e. Where is another trio that could do that, think you? I tell you, who don't know Dunfermline, that these Patons were always a marked family, and have had genius hovering about their pretty home for generations, and now and then touching the heads and hearts of father, sons, and daughters with its creative wand. There is a great deal in blood, no doubt, but the blood from an honest weaver or shoemaker is, as a rule, a much better article, something to be much prouder of, than you find from n.o.bles whose rise came from such conduct as should make their descendants ashamed to talk of descent. It's a G.o.d's mercy we are all from honest weavers; let us pity those who haven't ancestors of whom they can be proud, dukes or d.u.c.h.esses though they be.

DUNFERMLINE, July 27-28.

[Sidenote: _Dunfermline._]

Put all the fifty days of our journey together, and we would have exchanged them all for rainy ones if we could have been a.s.sured a bright day for this occasion. It came, a magnificent day. The sun shone forth as if glad to shine upon this the most memorable day of my mother's life or of mine, as far as days can be rendered memorable by the actions of our fellow-men. We left Edinburgh and reached Queensferry in time for the noon boat. Here was the scene so finely given in "Marmion," which I tried, however, in vain to recall as I gazed upon it. If Dunfermline and its thunders had not been in the distance, I think I could have given it after a fashion, but I failed altogether that morning.

"But northward far, with purer blaze, On Ochil mountains fell the rays, And as each heathy top they kissed, It gleamed a purple amethyst.

Yonder the sh.o.r.es of Fife you saw, Here Preston Bay, and Berwick Law; And broad between them rolled, The gallant Firth the eye might note.

Whose islands on its bosom float, Like emeralds chased in gold."

And truly it was a morning in which nature's jewels sparkled at their best. Upon reaching the north sh.o.r.e we were warmly greeted by Uncle and Aunt, and Maggie and Annie. It was decided better not to risk luncheon in the ruins of Rosythe Castle, as we had intended, the gra.s.s being reported damp from recent rains. We accordingly drove to the inn, but we were met at the door by the good landlady, who, with uplifted hands, exclaimed: "I'm a' alane! There's naebody in the house! They're a' awa'

to Dunfermline! There'll be great goings on there the day."

A hotel without one servant. The good woman, however, a.s.sured us we might come in and help ourselves to anything in the house; so we managed to enjoy our luncheon, though some of us only after a fashion.

There were three gentlemen, a wife, and a cousin, who for the first time did not care much for anything in the form of luncheon. Speeches, speeches, these are what troubled Harry, Davie and me; and I had cause for grave alarm, of which they could form little idea, for I felt that if Dunfermline had been touched and her people had determined to give us a public reception, there was no saying to what lengths they might go.

[Sidenote: _A Trying Ordeal._]

If I could decently have stolen away and gone round by some circuitous route, sending my fellow townsmen an apology, and telling them that I really felt myself unable to undergo the ordeal, I should have been tempted to do so. I was also afraid that the Queen Dowager would break down, for if ever her big black eyes get wet it's all over with her. How fortunate it was that Mrs. H. was with her to keep her right! It was wisely resolved that she should take her inside of the coach and watch over her. I bit my lip, told the Charioteers they were in for it and must go through without flinching, that now the crisis had come I was just bound to stand anything. I was past stage-fright, and I a.s.sured myself that they could do their worst--I was callous and would not be moved--but to play the part of a popular hero even for a day, wondering all the time what you have done to deserve the outburst, is fearful work. When I did get time to think of it, my tower of strength lay in the knowledge that the spark which had set fire to their hearts was the Queen Dowager's return and her share in the day's proceedings. Grand woman, she has deserved all that was done in her honor even on that day.

A man stopped us at the junction of the roads to inform us that we were expected to pa.s.s through the ancient borough of Innerkeithing; but I forgot myself there. It seemed a fair chance to escape part of the excitement (we had not yet begun the campaign as it were); at all events I dodged to escape the first fire, as raw troops are always said to do, and so we took the direct road. When the top of the Ferry Hills was reached we saw the town, all as dead as if the holy Sabbath lay upon it, without one evidence of life. How beautiful is Dunfermline seen from the Ferry Hills, its grand old abbey towering over all, seeming to hallow the city and to lend a charm and dignity to the lowliest tenement. Nor is there in all broad Scotland, nor in many places elsewhere, that I know of, a more varied and delightful view than that obtained from the park upon a fine day. What Benares is to the Hindoo, Mecca to the Mohammedan, Jerusalem to the Christian, all that Dunfermline is to me.

But here I must stop. If you want to learn how impulsive and enthusiastic the Scotch are when once aroused, how dark and stern and true is the North, and yet how fervid and overwhelming in its love when the blood is up, I do not know where you will find a better evidence of it than in what followed. See how a small spark kindled so great a flame. The Queen Dowager and I are still somewhat shamefaced about it, but somehow or other we managed to go through with our parts without breaking down.

[Sidenote: _The Free Library._]

The Queen Dowager had been chosen to lay the Memorial Stone of the Free Library, and the enthusiasm of the people was aroused by her approach.