The winter came in and we had to keep in doors, but the line was getting near to an end. Mr. Scott got another contract on the Dumfries line, so I was to go back to Slamannan, but Mrs. Scott said she would be going through for a trip and I could go with her. Before the time came for us to go a friend of Mr. Scott's came on a visit from Grangemouth, near Falkirk. She was about to be married to a gentleman living at the railway terminus at Dalmellington. This was her second husband, although she was quite young. She and Mrs. Scott thought I would do nicely for her little maid. She had a little boy, whom she hoped to have with her. Mrs. Scott knew my home troubles. They asked me if I would go to Dalmellington with her when she got married. I liked the lady and I said I would go with her, or, at least, she was to come for me. It was agreed that when she went to Falkirk that I would go with her. So she came for me. The name of the gentleman she married was Mr. Macblean, and he kept the new Railway Tavern. It was all taverns, or inns, then, and seldom you saw a hotel. Neither Mrs. Macblean nor myself had anything to do with the drink traffic, for which I was thankful. Before I left Maybole we all went to have something woven by those poor weavers. I chose the colors I would like, and saw them put into the loom. I had that skirt in Adelaide as a reminiscence of that time of mixed feelings. Mrs. Scott also knew the housekeeper at the Earl of Cathcart's, on the banks of the Doon. I thought I would try any of the places rather than go to Slamannan, or stop at Maybole after Mr. and Mrs. Scott had gone. I did not seem to fear the people. I knew that I would have to go amongst strangers wherever I went. So it was all the same to me.

I never regretted going with Mrs. Macblean, but, young as I was, I think I was right in my idea that she regretted having married a tavern-keeper. He was very unwilling to have her little son taken there, as he did not want the people to know that he had married a widow. I know she was not very happy, although he seemed a nice man. She had every comfort, but she did long to see her son. I was beginning to want to see my friends, and I missed the children, who were with me at Mrs. Scott's, and the out-of-doors life in the waggons. I had agreed to stay for six months, so I was made useful in the house. There was a big maid as well, but I kept with Mrs. Macblean for the most part. She was a stranger, and, as I knew no one there, we often went for long walks together. The place was delightful, and the absence of poverty a relief. I could see as the weeks went on that if her little boy was not allowed to come I would not be wanted there. The next week Mr. and Mrs. Scott and children came to stop at the tavern for a few weeks, and that was a great joy to me. They took me everywhere they went, while the children were affectionate and pleased to see me again.

Then for the first time I saw that beautiful locality "the banks and braes o' bonnie Doon," which was about two miles or so from Dalmellington. The road was good, and there was pasture land, with plenty of cattle and sheep, and high knolls covered with grass and the sheep on top. The Loch Doon is said to be seven miles long and seven miles wide. It flows to the sea near to Ayr, and it is "banks and braes" all the way. I have often tried to tell my first impression. But this is the first time I have written about it. I know I cannot say much. There were two paths, one was close to the water and the other on top of the hills. The Earl of Cathcart's seat was most romantic. He was noted for his love of hounds and huntsmen. He kept stags and deer there. They would look at you and rush up the rugged height and get caught in the bushes with their wonderful horns. There were trees growing all the way up the side of the bank, so that on the top walk you could put up your hand and pull off nuts from such tall trees. I did not go to the top walk that day. But again and again I found myself on the braes of Doon.

Mrs. Scott went to see the housekeeper at the earl's, and took the children and me. I thought it was the lady countess. She was dressed in black satin, with a lovely lace cap and white hair. She went to that family when she was a girl about my age. The place looked magnificent, and I learnt afterwards that 20 men were employed to look after the stags and horses and hounds. There was a page boy and ladies' maid, but no children. The ladies went also to the hunt, and I used to go and see them. The earl and countess only came there for the hunting season. It made me think of the colliers in Slamannan and the weavers in Maybole, and to wonder. There was a lot of queer talk about the earl. We had a peep into the kitchen, and never shall I forget it. There were men cooks and women cooks. The men always went wherever the earl went.

Loch Doon was a favorite excursion, and for the fishing season some noblemen would come there and have tents erected with men-servants in attendance. The loch is famed for the trout and salmon, and is a good place for fishing for those who are allowed to catch them. Both coal and ironstone are found in many places in Ayrshire.

At Dalmellington there was a large ironworks, where they smelted the ore into iron, and whence they sent it to all parts of Britain for making railway iron. They put the ore in a great blasting furnace. Then they made beds of sand all around to receive the melted iron in moulds while it was hot. It was generally well known when this iron would be let out of the furnace and the people would rush to see it and to watch the men gauging that red hot melted iron, so that it would run in to the moulds. It seemed awful. It was said those men never lived long, and no wonder, seeing how they worked amidst that fluid. I only went once, but we could hear when the iron was cast off. It always made me shudder.

The tavern was not far from the railway-station, and on the road leading to Loch Doon. Mr. Macblean seemed to do well. Some refreshments were also obtainable, and there were a few rooms to let. After the Scotts went away I felt lonely. Sometimes I saw a drunken man, and on the Saturday nights such a lot would be about. Both Mrs. Macblean and I would shut ourselves in a dark room and cry. I knew that I was a long way from where my sister and brother were. If I could have seen them sometimes it would have been something to look forward to. Mrs. Macblean could not see her way to leave her husband and home for a week or so. We talked the matter over, and it was arranged I should go. I knew Grangemouth was close to Falkirk. I could go thence for a week's leave and see my friends and take some things to Mrs. Macblean's boy, she paying for my return ticket to Glasgow. I had some nice new clothing and was growing tall. I thought for 14 years of age I had seen the serious side of life and some of its vicissitudes, and had gained experience from my trials. I felt happy to go back, and I knew the places. I was not likely to get lost on the Caledonia and Glasgow line. I could write a little, but I did not let them know I was coming home. I thought I would take them by surprise. What wonderful possibilities lie in store for the young!

I was glad to find that my father kept from the drink, and my dear brother, how he had grown! I did not see my sister for a day or two, as she had gone to a place further away. My brother came with me the next day, and we walked all the way to Grangemouth. It was a shipping port, with good-sized vessels lying at the quays. We had no trouble in finding the house of Mrs. Macblean's mother. Although close to the dock, it had a nice appearance. They knew by letter that I was coming, but they did not know on what day during my week's leave. I shall never forget the dear little son of my mistress. He was five years old. He wanted to be taken to his mamma. They were gracious and kind to my brother and me. I have seen many shipping places since then, but none so clean-looking as Grangemouth. They wished to keep us for the night, but we walked back to Slamannan that night. It was late, but we were not afraid. It was eight miles there and eight miles back. That made it sixteen to walk in one day, so we were tired the next day. I am quite sure that on some of the other days we walked just as far. I know that we went to Linlithgow to see someone we knew. We went all along the railway line and it was a long way, but we had no money to pay for train fare. It must have been more than nine miles there and nine miles back. From Slamannan the youngsters would think nothing of walking to Castle Carrey, a wood where a queer-looking berry grew wild. It was called a blea berry, and grew on short stems low down, not bunchy. The people used to send their children there in the season to pick those berries and make jam with them. They had to take a can or a jar to carry them. The juice of the berry was in itself a perfect dye, and it was amusing to see the hands and lips and teeth of those who picked or eat the berries. My brother and myself went, and our teeth were soon black like coals with juice. In Scotland we did not know anything about snakes. At that date I had never heard of them, so we could wander about without fear in the woods.

My week soon came to an end, and I returned to Dalmellington. I did not like being so far away, so when I got to Glasgow I saw Mrs. Stirling. For her home she wanted someone who could do everything in a house. She thought I would be too young to be left when she went away. However, if I wanted to come to Glasgow she promised to do what she could for me, and then I would be nearer to my friends. It cheered me to know that. I had still three months to stop with Mrs. Macblean. I was taught to work and be handy and tidy, but I did not like the idea of being in a tavern. Mrs. Stirling advised me not to engage for another term, but to go to Colonel Cathcart's, if I wished to live in Ayrshire. I had no fault to find with Mr. or Mrs. Macblean. They were kind and good to me.

The warm, bright weather continued nearly all the time. Mrs. Macblean and I had long walks all round in the evenings. If anyone was met whom she knew there was only a brief, respectful salutation and she passed on. I am quite sure she was a lady, and she was beautiful.

We had no garden, not so much as a pot-plant about the place, but close to the end of the house a good, wide burn ran under an important looking bridge, or, as they were called, "brig." It was wide enough for two large vehicles to pass. The roads were splendid, but the buildings were strange. They must have been very old, and were built here and there along the roadside. Sometimes the end of the house would face the street, and often the side or back of the house would be next the road. Mrs. Macblean called my attention to them, or I would not have heeded them. The place had no pretence to the rank of a town, yet it was not called a village. There were two churches and a school. I took notice that, even if it were a tavern, the minister came and asked the lady to let me come to the Sunday-school, and I went to church with Mrs. Macblean. I never went to Sunday-school or Bible-class all the time I was in Glasgow.

What with being healthy and strong, I began to take a bright and hopeful view of life from every point. I could write a little, and was fond of reading and knitting. It was merry and lively. There was a large room upstairs, where one evening every week meetings were held of some lodge. No women went to meetings of that kind in those days, but the men seemed to enjoy themselves. You could tell that by their laugh and song. There was always something to make one laugh. We had a gentleman up to stop for a few days. There was a gate which opened on some steps to go down to the water of the burn. We used it for some household purposes, but, as in Slamannan, the water for cooking had to be carried from the springs. One evening the gentleman opened the gate, thinking he was going into a garden, but he fell in the stream and was carried under the bridge. Luckily, some men saw the accident, and rushed after him and got him out of the water. He was nearly dead and the incident made a great stir. He was ill for some time. There was a heavy rain once while I was there, and it was something awful to see how the water swept along that burn. The cattle were carried away too. I saw some sheep rolling away under the bridge, and learned that cows were drowned also. The whole of Dalmellington lay nicely on a flat surrounded by a group of hills and valleys. After I had left I received a letter to say that a waterspout had burst over the place, and that people had left their houses and had taken their belongings to the tops of the mountains. A log of wood floated into the end window of the tavern and all the rooms downstairs were flooded. Some poor people, who lived in small houses, had their rooms full of water.

The autumn was passing, and I thought I would not like to be at this place in the winter. I had really no one to care what I did with my life or where I lived. There were no Christian friendly societies for young girls at that time. I felt the want of sympathy and approval in what I did. I saw the housekeeper at Colonel Cathcart's, and hoped when I was a grown woman to return there. I was old enough to admire the lovely scenery, but not old enough to disbelieve in witches and warlocks and fairies. Ayrshire is so full of glens and caves that I expected to see natural wonders, and not the work of man, for the imagination runs riot at times.

Gipsies I saw in plenty, and was afraid of them. They did not live in houses, but only in the wood; quite large numbers of them all together, and there were children, young girls, and youths who had never lived in a house. They came and went at will, and nobody seemed to take any notice of them. They were travelling tinkers. They made tinware, and sold it as they went through. The older women would come about to tell fortunes, and they would steal fowls or anything else they could lay hands on. The farmers always lost sheep and lambs when the gipsies were about, while one heard tales of them stealing away children of the high-class people.