"A few reminiscences of my
early life."
W.Renton
_______________________________________________________
A Brief Sketch of my younger days
by
William Renton, Galashiels
February, 1926
With a view to putting on record some particulars of my early life I now set down the following brief outline of my younger days so far as I can remember.
I have often lamented the want of knowledge of my Father and Mothers early life. I never heard them speak of bygone times; I believe their families belonged to Berwickshire as the name Renton seems common in that district. Probably they did not consider that their children would be interested. both my father and mother were of a rather silent disposition, and were not very communicative. Such a course was, I think, a mistake, and in the hope that the following somewhat rambling notes may prove interesting I set down, as I have previously stated, a few particulars of early days.
I was born at Kerchesters, a farm place near the Border town of Kelso, on 21 st. June 1865. I was the second youngest of a family of 10, the following being some particulars of our family;-
Sons:
James,(Eldest) - apprenticed to the trade of Blacksmith, ran away to the army, was with the " Black Watch" during the Ashanti Wars. Still alive, and about 77 years of age at this date.
Robert - was a long time employed on the Nr.B. Railway in various capacities, still alive, and over 70 years old.
Alexander, - a Tailor, died in Manchester.
David, - a Blacksmith; emigrated to Australia; have not heard from him for over 20 years.
William ( myself)
Thomas, ( the youngest) Still alive, Tweed finishers, Galashiels.
(Note: All the sons, with the exception of David, are married.)
Daughters:
Jane, - died at Innerliethen some years ago. Married to Alex Carrie.
Mary,- died at Galashiels, unmarried
Margaret,- died at Innerleithen, married to Robert Proudfoot.
Agnes,- died at Galashiels, unmarried
(Note: James, Thomas - now died since 1926.)
My fathers name was William, and my mothers maiden name was Janet Purves. My father was a Ploughman.
I have no recollection of staying at my birthplace, as we only remained there a short time. It appeared to be the custom of farm servants to follow a sort of nomadic life, never stopping at a place more than a year or two. They never seemed to settle down, but must always be shifting from place to place, so we flitted to a place called Lempitlaw, and of this place I have some recollection. I must at this time have been five or six years old, as I remember going to the school at the under part of Lempitlaw village, for the first time.
I remember next of living at a farm called Courthill, and of going to school at a small village called Nenthorn. It was whilst staying Courthill that I first saw a thrupenny piece, of which I became the proud possessor. I earned the thrupenny by assisting man along the road with a drove of sheep, acting in the capacity of dog, to prevent the animals from taking the wrong turning. It was also while staying at Courthill that I have remembrance of getting a hiding from my father. It was Kelso Fair day and the folk about the place were all on holiday. The youngsters were left at home and of course, up to mischief. One of pranks consisted of knocking our rain water barrel full of nails, then drawing them out to see the water sprouting. when the discovery was made, well, we suffered.
At the May term we were off again, this time to Crailing Tofts, a beautifully situated farm on the main road between Kelso and Jedburgh, with the river Teviot running close by. I attended Crailing school. I have very pleasant remembrances of this place, and I was happy there. close to our school was the Millers Dam, flowing along amongst shady trees, and whenever I think of the poem " Eugene Aram" my mind goes back to this place, as the surroundings would first suit the lines,
" Now up the mead, now down the mead,
" And past a shady brook."
But once again the spirit of restlessness had hold of my father, and once more the rumble of flitting carts on the 28 th of May was heard. This journey ended at a place called Kinning Hall, about four miles south of Hawick. The school was at Kirkton, a distance of about 3 miles, so we had to be on the road early to reach the school at 9 o’clock, summer and winter, but we never thought anything about it.
I can always remember the fear we had passing through a field where " Kylies" were browsing. They were long-haired, long-horned, fierce looking animals, and although they never touched us, yet we were always glad to reach the style over the paling. On our way to school there was a blacksmiths shop, and many an hour on the way home did we children stand at the smithy door watching the blacksmith working, shoeing horses, and fashioning rings or cart wheels. Did you ever hear of a hare being caught asleep?.
One afternoon just up the brae from the smithy another boy and I while on the way home from school espied a hare lying asleep at the foot of a hedge. With a stealthiness that would have done credit to a Red Indian, we crept down the incline and pounced o the animal. I well remember the squeaking the poor thing made before we had choked it’s life out. The other boy’s mother was to cook the hare and give a portion to our family, but apparently it had either been too good, or too badly cooked, as we never saw any of it. One of our methods of catching trout from a burn which ran close by was to build a sort of tunnel with stones, at the bottom of which we fixed a sack the mouth of which was kept open by a grid, and then we chased the trout down this tunnel into the sack from which they could not escape.
About this time the evangelists Saukey and Moodie were going about the country preaching and singing, and on Sunday evenings I remember the Cottages used to gather in the farmers house for worship. Those meetings were much appreciated, and I believe the singing of the popular hymns was a means of making brighter what must have been a monotonous and humdrum existence.
One twelve month was the duration of our stay at Kinning Hall, and once more the wife and kiddies were hoisted to the top of the cart and, heigh-ho, of they went. I can look back on some of these flitting morns. Days before, packing had been going on, and on the 27th everything was in readiness, and only eatables and a few cooking utensils were left available, together with a "shake-down" on which we slept until the first rumble of carts was heard, then all was excitement. there was no porridge on these occasions, and the youngsters were treated to tea, and eggs, which was enough to make us wish for a flitting each week. On this occasion our destination was Riddleton Hill, not far from the village of Maxton, which is in turn, close to St. Boswells. at this period I would be about 10 years old, so in my time I had already seen a bit shifting about the district. I attended a school called Broomhouse School about half a mile away. I have very pleasant recollections of this school. The Masters name was James Boyd, an exceedingly genial man, a strict master, but well liked for his kind disposition, and I made good progress with my lessons here. When the gooseberries were ripe the master used to send a few of the scholars into his garden for a feed of berries. If they were too long in coming back, another lot was sent to seek them, and this went on until the whole crowd was in the garden. Of course he knew what would happen. It was while we stayed at Riddleton Hill that I had the misfortune to break my collar bone while playing at horses, and I remember I dared not say anything about it, till the pain got unbearable. when the doctor was setting the bones together I remember him remarking that I was very thin. It’s astonishing how some remarks are kept in mind all ones life. Cake Day ( old years Day ) is now a thing of the past, but it was the custom then, and I along with the other boys travelled many miles on Cake Day and came home at night with our school bags well filled with gingerbread, oranges, apples, and so forth.
However, the lure of the road and a desire for change was again uppermost, and our next pilgrimage was to a place called Roxburgh Newtown, on the main road from St. Boswells to Kelso. I still attended Broomhouse School, but had to walk a distance of 3 miles or so. In winter it was dark before getting home, and I remember getting a great fright one afternoon when going alongside a dark plantation up by Rutherford Mill. On the other side of the hedge I heard a noise, and a man’s voice calling to me. you may imagine my hair stood on end, but when the man came to me I found it was my brother Alec who had come to meet me, and this was a trick he played on me.
Once more the glorious 28 th of May came round, and again we were as travelling gypsies, this time our journey ending at Gateshaw, near the village of Morebattle. Here we stayed the abnormal period of three years. I was then about 11 years of age. In my minds eye I see the dear old village of Morebattle yet, and the old school where I spent my childhood’s happiest days. the Schoolmasters name was James Henderson, familiarly known as "Jimmie". What a fine teacher he was, although very strict in the way of discipline. Before I left this school, which was the last I attended, I was in the Ex-finish Standard, and was considered one of the best scholars. I got a prize at this school for the best behaviour, and this was obtained by a ballot vote of the scholars. it took the form of a book " The Fair Maid of Perth ", one of Sir Walter Scott’s, and of this book I was justly proud, and I have it still. At this school we had grand times during the fox- hunting season. No sooner was the cry raised " The hoonds are oot" than there was a general stampede, and off we went over the fields after the redcoats. Of course for these expeditions we had to pay next morning when we turned up at school, but that was all in the game. Of course the scholars coming from a distance had to carry their dinners, and to heat our flasks we used to adjourn to "Old Craggies" the cobbler. Old Craggie was in his glory amongst the boys, and he used to delight us with his great store of stories, most of them made up I believe as he related them. Then there was the bakers shop where a big cake of parley on gingerbread could be had for a penny.
talking of this bakers shop, I remember one of my chums, Jim Affleck, had the good fortune one summers evening to get twopence, and off we set to Morebattle to get one of the pies so much admired in the bakers window.
I was to get a share of the feast. well the pie was brought, and I well remember watching that pie disappearing into Jim’s mouth, while all the time my mouth was just watering for a taste. when it was finished he turned to me saying, "Eh, Wullie, it was that guid I never minded ‘ee was there".
The little stream called the "Kale" runs close by Gateshaw and Morebattle, and on summers afternoons when the "schule was ‘oot" many an hour was spent "girnin’" the trout with a loop made of horse hair tied to a stick. Later on in life I once passed by the old "girnin’" pool, and what a flood of memories came back with an intensity I cannot describe, and I saw myself once more a boy at school. I was very fond of trout fishing, and as in these days the water was little disturbed, we boys used to come home with a "take" of trout that was not to be despised. Where I had the good fortune to possess a penny I have many a time run all the way to the village for a "flee huik". It has always been my hope that I might take my own boys for a days fishing in the Kale water, but so far that hope has not been realised.
During harvest season the schoolboys had a grand time. it was the custom to change horses for drawing the reaping machines, at stated periods, the work being so heavy for them, so the boys about the place took the fresh horses to the Corn field, and brought home the tired ones. Many a good gallop we had on the sweating animals. then when the corn in a field was cut all but a small patch it was a simple matter to knock the rabbits on the head with a stick, and many a good dinner was got in this way.
It may seem strange now-a-days that a boy of 13 should be entrusted with a double-barrelled breach loading gun, but when the corn was cut and standing in shooks I was given a gun and plenty of powder and caps to frighten away the feathered tribe from the corn. I was not content to do just frightening, so I got hold of a lead pipe and cut it into slugs, and in this way many a crow and Cushie Doo fell to the hail of lead from my "real" gun. It was a risky job for a small boy to indulge in, but nobody seemed to think it unusual.
What fun we used to have about New Year time. We dressed ourselves in any sort of odd Costumes, with blackened and painted faces, and paper hats of all colours, and carrying turnip lanterns lighted with candles. This was to perform in what was known as the "Gysarts". In this guise we travelled round the farm places in the district. We would knock at a door and cry in, " Wull ‘ee lets act". When permission was given, the first member of the troop ( which by the way was generally myself ) would boldly enter chanting the words:-
"Here comes in Galashan,
Galashan is my name,
A sword and a pistol by my side,
I hope to win the game."
Then another actor would barge in shouting:-
"The game, sir, the game, sir,
It’s not within your power,
I’ll cut you into inches
In less than half an hour."
Wooden swords were drawn and mortal combat ensued, with the usual result that Galashan was cut down, and the victor flourishing his sword and one foot on the fallen foe, shouts, "Now, I’ve killed Galashan, Galashan, he is dead", but at the critical moment in comes a strangely dressed boy, wearing spectacles and a "bum" hat, and carrying a small bottle in his hand. This is the "doctor", who approached the fallen Galashan, while the actors sang:-
"Here comes in old Doctor Brown,
The best old doctor in the town,
Can cure a man with a broken thumb,
Well done, Doctor Brown."
The Doctor flourishes the bottle and says:-
"I’ll put a little to his nose, a little to his bum,
Rise up Jack and sing a song."
Galashan springs up, and is joined by the others singing:-
"Once I was dead, but now I’m alive,
And blessed by the doctor that made me to revive.
Blinkin’ Jack the Cobbler, he had a blinkin’ eye,
He sold his wife for thirty pounds, and what the worse was I,
his pockets full o’ money, and his barrels full o’ beer.
Success to the gyserts, and Happy Guid New Year."
Then we all sang or recited, and as this was done with due boyish gusto, the folks were generally in fits of laughter at our ongoing’s. The purser then passed round with the hat, and we usually got a good collection. Bt the end of the festive season we had a good few shillings to divide amongst the company.
Such is a brief outline of my early youth and school days. Aye, those were happy times but they could not last forever, and so school life was finished a 14. I may here mention that "Jimmie" Henderson, my schoolmaster, offered to give me any special instruction for any trade or profession I wished to follow, but my parents were probably too poor to take advantage of his offer, so it came to nothing, which was a pity, as I seemed to be a good scholar, and had the ability to be something better than a farm worker.
My father hired me to a neighbouring farmer a few miles off, and my job was to act as "flunkey". The name of the farm was Linton Bankhead. My job was to attend to the care of a big horse which was used for the farmers gig, and to another horse of finer breed which was used for riding only. I had also the care of a small pony. can you imagine a tiddy of 14 having to do such a thing now-a-days ?. I was so small that I had to stand on a box to groom the horses, and harness them, but somehow I managed all right. My sleeping quarters were in a loft above the farm horses stables, the entrance to this "bedroom" being by means of a kind of ladder.
My parents came to "Bankhead" at the May term, and stayed only the usual time - one year. They then shifted to Galashiels, where one of my sisters "Jane" had been employed in Netherdale Mill. I did not come to Galashiels with my parents, but was hired to a place called Haddon, about five miles south of Kelso. The work here something similar to that at Linton Bankhead. I got an attic room to sleep in. This was in the farmers house, and was an improvement on my former quarters. I never feel the smell of cheese without thinking of that room. The farmers sister had a mania for "cheese-on-a-Ring", and she stored it in my little attic. This lady was somewhat niggardly, and grudged a bit of cheese for the servants, and I have seen many a good sized Cheese mouldering to dust rather than used in the kitchen. The farmer, Mr. Jas. Howie, was a little swarthy skinned man, very fond of whisky, and he was always in a more or less befuddled state if he could get the stuff. He generally drank a quart bottle of whisky a day. It was always a mystery to his sisters how he managed to get the liquor on Sundays. I could have enlightened them, but as I did not like the sour-faced women they never knew. this is what occurred. I drove the ladies to church at Kelso, and Jimmie the farmer never failed to pay a visit to the stable on Sunday mornings, when he would slip me three shillings to get him a bottle of the best at Kelso, which I procured during the church service. This bottle was hid in a sort of box under the cushion of the seat in the phaeton, on which one of the ladies sat, and she never knew she was sitting on top of the whisky bottle on her journey home from church. Jimmie used to chuckle with glee at the way we outwitted his sisters. When he happened to hide the bottle in the stable I used to give the byreman a nip and put in it’s equivalent of water, and so Jimmie was diddled as well as his sisters. I could have stayed at this place so far as Jimmie was concerned, but I could not stick his sisters, and so I came home to Galashiels, where I found work in Netherdale Mill.
So ended my experience of life so far as farm work was concerned.