It was the end of October when I left Ayrshire, and Mrs. Macblean's son had not come. I know she was grieving acutely about him. I promised that I would go and see him again when I returned to my own people. I found myself in Glasgow, and left my box at the station, and paid a penny for a ticket, for which they agreed to keep my box till I came for it. I saw Mrs. Stirling, and stopped there all night, and read the paper with a long column of advertisements for all sorts of working-girls. One, she thought, I might enquire about. It was from a lady and gentleman at No. 5, Florence-place, who wanted a young country girl, who must be useful. So I went. I found it was a furnished flat in a stylish part of the city. I told the lady that I had come from Dalmellington the day before, and that Mrs. Stirling would speak for me. I was engaged to come that evening. They only intended to stay in Glasgow for three months, but I thought I could get something else at the end of that time. They seemed rich people, but were in trouble. Their name was Skirven. They had one daughter at home. I was not long there before I learned that it was through another daughter that they came from their home in Fifeshire. The youngest daughter, while going to boarding-school, fell in love with a young medical student. She ran away with him and got married, and came to Glasgow. He was a Roman Catholic and an Irishman, while her parents were Scotch. As they were married by a Catholic priest, Mr. Skirven said it was no marriage. That is what brought him to Glasgow. He came to find those two runaways, and to make them get married again in their church. Mr. Skirven had his gun loaded to shoot the young doctor if he objected. His name was Dr. Reily. They found the young lady and took her to Florence-place, and the doctor was not allowed to come near her. It seemed so sad. She was a pretty little lady, and so young. A strict watch was kept on her, and she saw nobody. She soon found that she could trust me with a letter, and many times a letter came for her in my name from the husband. I even saw him, and brought messages to her from him. He was waiting for his diploma, and he had a good practice in view. Then he intended to show that they could not keep his wife from him. It was my first experience of the fact that love can destroy happiness.

I never knew how matters were fixed up, but the old folks went back to Fife, and I got another place as under-nurse with Dr. Fargus, in Elmbank-street, off Sauchihall-street, Glasgow, close to where I had been living. Dr. Fargus was eminent in his profession as a medical man, and of great distinction. And his wife—How can I write about that gentle lady? It was a Christian home, and well appointed. The nurse had been with them ever since they had got married, and there were three children. It was a large, new house, four storeys high, with everything up to date, and so convenient. There was no carrying water, for both hot and cold water were in all the rooms, and there were bathrooms right up to the top, where the nurseries were. The lady's mother had died a week before I went there. There were other servants, and we all had mourning, a dressmaker being in the house. I had a black-and-white print, and a black stuff dress, with a cape and hat to match, because I had to go out so much with the children and the nurses. We were well looked after, both as regards our bedrooms and our food. And there was a whole pew for us in a church in Cudoging-street, not far from the Clyde. They had a summer residence, about seven miles from Glasgow, and a man and his wife to keep it always ready for them. The children were all small, and if the doctor thought they wanted a change, the nurse and I very often went to this old castle, some of which was in ruins, but there was plenty of room for us and lovely grounds for us to romp about in. The lady would come sometimes and stop for a few days. The locality was Eastkillbride. There was no railway. On the way we passed through the very old towns of Rutherglen and Hamilton. All along near at hand I could see the coal-pits, like Slamannan. But there were none at Eastkillbride. The doctor would sometimes bring his wife in his carriage, or in the omnibus, the only way of conveying passengers to that part. She was kind to the poor and the sick. There were no district nurses heard of then. Every day she took some broths and dainties to those who needed them. One poor woman appealed to me. She was in bed for seven years with rheumatism. She had the use partly of the right hand and that was all. I often went when I could, and tried to do something for Mrs. Kennedy. If Mrs. Fargus was not there the nurse looked after her poor pensioners all the same. The houses were spread about with quite a distance between. There was no interesting scenery, but only an old ruin.