YOUTH AND APPRENTICESHIP.
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REMINISCENCES OF A LONG LIFE.
YOUTH AND APPRENTICESHIP.
Methinks it seems but yesterday
Since we were boys together.
I WAS born on the 27th September, 1814, in Thumble Street, Renton, Parish of Cardross, Dumbartonshire. When I was twenty months old my father died, and my mother removed to the village of Milton.
At four years I was sent to school, and had for a teacher an old hand-loom weaver, in whose trade there was so little doing that he had to find some other means of earning a livelihood. When I first went to school my dress was the kilt; but my aunt, whose husband was a captain, made me a present of a piece of nankeen, out of which my mother was to make me a suit of clothes. I was highly delighted, and felt that directly I got "a pair of breeks" I should be a man. My mother was very clever at every kind of needlework, and she very soon had an exceedingly pretty little rig-out ready for me. On going home from school one day, my mother got me into the clothes. I admired myself exceedingly, and then said: "I must go and show them to Mrs McLaughlan"--a friend who made much of me. I got safely to her house, and she told me how much she admired my suit, finishing by putting a "bawbee" in the pocket of my coat. On the way from her house there was a water-hole, and only a narrow path beside it to walk on. When I left her to return home she kept on talking as I went, and turning to answer her, I tripped in some way and fell into the water. What a screaming I set up! Mrs McLaughlan pulled me out and set me on my feet, and I ran to my mother as hard as I could, crying: "Oh, mother, my beauty is spoiled, my pride gone!" She
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picked me up, took off my clothes, and again put me into my kilt. At the degradation of going back to petticoats I felt heart-broken, and hid for the rest of the afternoon, just keeking round the door as anyone came in. Next morning, when mother wanted me to get ready for school, I mutinied. We argued the point for some time, and I bolted into my grandmother's room. She, I think, must have heard me, because I had only got inside her door when she caught me up under her arm and carried me to the school, where she set me down in the middle of the room. I was a bit afraid of the master, but grandmother spoke to him, and I was all right. Anyhow, by next morning I had my clothes again, and felt "every inch a man."
At seven years our teacher had taught four of us all he could. He himself went daily to Dumbarton to the parish school to learn the rudiments of grammar, that in turn he might transmit his knowledge to us. In the meantime three of us were sent to the Milton Print Works as tearers. The fourth boy, who was the son of a miller, was sent to the school at Dumbarton, but my mother wanted my assistance, so my lot was the print works. I remained at the tearing about two and a half years, when I was put into the warehouse, where the cloth was finished and got ready to send to Glasgow. They frequently sent me to Glasgow with goods, and I must tell you about two or three of my trips there.
I still remember the first time I went to Glasgow. The carter took my goods to Douglas, where the ferry boat put them and me on board the steamer. When I reached my destination I had to hire a porter to take my packages to the warehouse. Of course I had a sum of money given me to defray all my expenses, and after discharging the little debts, I had, when I got back to the warehouse, 1s 6d to the good. I handed it to the manager, who looked at it and put it into his pocket with the words: "Thank you, Robin, that is very honest; if you remind me on pay-day, I'll give you twopence for yourself." Pay-day came, but he forgot his promise, and I would not tell
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him, so I never saw the bawbees. That was my first lesson in dishonesty. The next time I went I had, as usual, my money for expenses. After transacting my business, I found I had sixpence left. I got on the steamer to come home, where I fell in with a "basket-man," and began overhauling his wares, which consisted largely of books, one of which I saw was a Ready Reckoner, and I thought, "If I only had that." I turned it over and over, and at last said: "What is the price of this book?" He said: "I'll let you have it for sixpence." I thought of the coin in my pocket; the temptation was too strong for me, so I took the money from my pocket and put it into his hand, getting the book in exchange. I had to pass the captain, though, at the ferry, for he should have had the sixpence. I tried to shun him, but he saw me, and shouted: "Come here, sir; where are you going?" but I jumped into the boat, and as he was on the paddle-box, he could not get near me. He was a queer fellow, this captain. He had been a carrier, and when any other steamer was coming up with or passing his craft, he would stamp his feet on the paddle-box and shout: "Get up, you lazy brute!" I may add that the Ready Reckoner I bought that day I have still in good condition, although seventy years have come and gone since then.
On my next trip I had a large parcel of goods, and had to get a special porter to hire a cart for me. He did so, and helped me to mount to the top of the bale. When we reached the warehouse it was almost dark. Mr Patrick Mitchell, the proprietor, was standing there. He said: "Who came with those goods?" The clerk (Mr Reid) replied: "Robin, sir," and pointed to me on the top. He said: "Ah, I thought he would not be far away. That's right, Robin, always look well after things entrusted to you." I went in to wait for Mr Reid--the clerks being kept late that night. I sat in the master's arm chair before a roaring fire, and as I was always a grand sleeper, went straight for the Land of Nod. Mr Mitchell came in, pulled my ear to waken me, and said: "Why are you not away home?" and Mr Reid replied: "Oh, he is waiting for me; he is coming
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to my mother's home to stay to-night," and very kind to me she was.
I remained in this situation till I was between twelve and thirteen, when my people took me away and put me to work in a shop in South Side, Glasgow. I did not like shop life, and only remained there about nine months. When I returned home, I went to work in the field, and before long I was apprenticed to the calico printing. We were all on piece work in those days. The term of my apprenticeship was seven years, and according to the indentures, for every shilling we earned we got sixpence.
I liked the business very well, but a week or two after I had signed the contract, a blacksmith offered to teach me his trade. I was very disappointed, for at that time I thought I preferred that calling. Some members of my mother's family followed it, and that may have accounted tor my liking. Anyhow, the offer came too late, and I stayed where I was.
I was always fond of reading, and about this time the Waverley novels were being issued, and I was fortunate enough to get them from Salmond's Circulating Library. They were a rare treat to me.
One Sunday a boy called Bob Mason asked me to go for a walk. I had just got a nice book from my aunt, entitled "Elizabeth, or the Exiles of Siberia," which I took with me. We sat on a stone, and there we remained till I had finished the book. Me enjoyed it as much as I did. Often of an evening I sat on the Castle Rock, Douglas, and read aloud to my companions till darkness obscured my vision. On the very spot where we sat there is now a monument erected to the memory of Henry Bell, the inventor and proprietor of the first steamboat (called the Comet) which plied on the river Clyde, or on European waters.
During this time there were great commotions concerning the progress of the Reform Bill. We had great meetings, and still greater processions, and Mr Andrew Muter, late proprietor of the Milton Print Works, presented us with a blue silk flag, with the figure of Justice (a woman, blindfolded, holding in her
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hand the scales) painted thereon, and the motto: "Justice has granted what oppression long denied!" Great excitement prevailed as to whether the Bill would go through Parliament or not. The election day came round, and we all set out for Dumbarton--the Court-house there being the polling booth. All the trades marched in procession, carrying banners with the mottoes they thought most suitable to the occasion. When we were standing outside the Court-house, two carpenters stood near me holding a stick, with a board on the end, on which was printed, "Down with Boroughmongers!" An old gentleman came down the stair, and he being what they called a "Borough-monger," they dropped the board on his head as he passed. It stunned him, and he never recovered from the shock--dying about a month afterwards.
There was great rejoicing when it became known that the Bill had gone through. Everyone seemed wild with delight. That Bill made the law of the land what two men were hanged and one beheaded for exactly ten years previously. Things went on pretty well till 1834, when men got dissatisfied; they wanted all the trade to be paid alike throughout Scotland. The agitation led to a strike in the end. It caused a great deal of hardship, and much wickedness. Many men up in years who went out in this strike never got employment at their trade again. Altogether it was a dreadful time, and caused boundless misery throughout the country. Our whole village was broken up. The older men who went out were not taken on again, and being unable to get any other work, were compelled to sell their small properties and remove to some other district. Although we were working, trade was not good, and it did not improve. It went from bad to worse, and in the end there was very little to do.
