Memories of My Life: From My Early Days in Scotland Till the Present Day in Adelaide

By J. S. O. Mrs. Allen

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• Language: English
• Publisher: DigiCat
• Release date: Sep 4, 2022
• ISBN: 8596547206965

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J. S. O. Mrs. Allen

Memories of My Life

From My Early Days in Scotland Till the Present Day in Adelaide

EAN 8596547206965

DigiCat, 2022

Contact: [e-mail]

Table of Contents

MY FIRST PLACE.

LIFE'S BATTLE BEGINS.

I RETURN HOME.

ON THE COAL MINES.

I GO TO GLASGOW.

I CHANGE MY OCCUPATION.

THE COUNTRY OF BURNS.

I GO TO A NEW PLACE.

I LEAVE AYRSHIRE.

DR. DYKES, DR. GUTHRIE, AND DR. MACLEOD.

ANOTHER NEW PLACE.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

THE ISLE OF ARRAN.

BACK IN GLASGOW AGAIN.

I DECIDE TO COME TO ADELAIDE.

ON AN EMIGRANT SHIP.

I ARRIVE IN ADELAIDE.

MY FATHER AND BROTHER ARRIVE.

I GO TO THE SOUTH-EAST.

I LEAVE THE STATION AND RETURN TO ADELAIDE.

I GO BACK TO SUNNYSIDE.

PRINCE ALFRED IN ADELAIDE.

I LEAVE GOVERNMENT HOUSE.

I GET MARRIED.

A PARTING OF WAYS.

I RETURN TO SCOTLAND.

I ARRIVE IN LONDON.

I RETURN TO MY OLD HOME.

I REACH ADELAIDE AGAIN.

HOUSEKEEPER AT GOVERNMENT HOUSE.

I RETURN TO MY HUSBAND.

YET ANOTHER PARTING.

MY FIRST PLACE.

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We did not talk of a situation in those days but of a place. My sister, who was a few years older than I, was out at a place five miles from where we lived. She came home, as she had not been well, and my father sent me to tell the people that Mary could not return for a few days. They asked me if I could stay in her stead till she was better. I was quite willing, provided that my father would allow me. They obtained my father's consent, as he said if I was any use they could keep me; so at the age of ten I began to be a house-servant.

We had no mother. She died when I was six years of age. The name of the town was Denny, not far from Falkirk. The people with whom I went to live were bakers and confectioners in a large way. With their sons and journeymen and apprentices, in addition to the master, there were, all told, 12 men living on the establishment, and the mistress, with one daughter and myself, did all the work, except that a woman came to help with the washing. Some of the journeymen and two apprentices slept over the granary or store where the flour and other materials were kept. Every night at 10 o'clock those men and boys had to be in their room; one of my duties was to see that the door was locked and to bring the keys to the master. The mistress would bring them to me again in the morning at 4 o'clock, when I had to run up this long stone stair and open the door and tell the men it was time to get up. I always went back to bed again till 6 o'clock.

It was a busy house. There was a large shop facing the front street, with two windows filled with beauteous cakes and confectionery. There were five carts to load up every morning, for the establishment served the locality for miles round with bread.

Stirling town was not far off, and the neighborhood was full of historical events. The battlefield of Bannockburn was close by, and also an old castle; I was told that once it was the stronghold of Bruce and Wallace. I liked to wander through the old ruins on my way home from Sunday-school. I got to like the place, and they were kind to me. It was not displeasing to me when I learned that I could stop there for a time and that my sister would live at home. I used to go home about once a month. There were no tramcars or conveyance of any kind on that wild moorland. Nothing but heather met the eye all the way from Denny to Slamannan, which was the name of the village I came from. The Edinburgh and Glasgow railway ran through it, and we could see Stirling Castle from our door.

I did not have much wages, but the mistress saw to my clothes and made some of them. I was taught to be careful and useful. One of the things I liked was to go into the shop window to hand out all the nice cake and confections. The work of bakers and confectioners has moved forward by great strides since then. For weeks and weeks the daughter of the house and myself had to help in the work-shop while some of the men and one of the apprentices were away ill with measles.

I shall never forget the first morning I went to the bakehouse. There was a long trough, which stretched the full length of the bakehouse. Overhead there was a strong beam of timber, with ropes hanging down for a balance. In this big trough I saw six men with their trousers up to the knees, and they were tramping in the dough to make the bread. I put up my hands and gave a scream, and someone threw a flour bag at my head. I felt as if I did not want to eat any more bread. I did not like the way that they made bread, but I soon got interested in other beautiful work which was done, and I had to help. What I learned then I have never forgotten.

The master told the mistress that she was not to give me any wages, as I was learning more than the apprentices. So he said I was to have no wages, but that I would have to pay him some sil-ler for what I was learning. When he said sil-ler he meant money. I knew the apprentices had to pay when they were bound for so long a period. Time went on and I was happy.

There was one daughter who had a runaway marriage, sometime before I went there to live. The old folks had forgiven her and she and her husband came on a visit. It was the first since the elopement, and everyone seemed pleased to see her again. Even I, the little maid, was allowed to enjoy the gay times. They came from Glasgow, and had seen some style in city life. The gentleman brought with him an apparatus for taking photographs. It was the first ever seen in Denny. They fixed up a studio in the garden for him, but he did not take photographs to make money, but only as a pastime. It made quite a stir in the place. Ministers and doctors and all kinds of people came to see this wonderful thing. I will add here that this was 46 years ago. Things are different now. I had my photograph taken without my knowledge.

I was sent with a cup of coffee on a tray in the morning as so many people were round that the gentleman could not come to breakfast. Just as I got to the gate I was told to stand still and look straight at what proved to be the camera. I was told to wait and get something to take back to give to Miss Isabel, and to ask her to put it in the shop window. I carefully carried back the parcel, never thinking it was my own photograph I had. It was taken on glass, and in some way it seemed to have a kind of tar put on. However, there I was, holding on to the tray, and on either side by the gate stood the doctor of the town and the Congregational minister. After I gave the picture to the young lady I could hear roars of laughing. All the bakers came running from the bakehouse to the shop, and I saw the people staring at the window. So I went to look, and when I saw my own picture was exhibited there I cried till they took it out of the window. That was my first photograph. I never saw it again.

I was interested in all I saw. It was new to me after our poor home. I had one little brother three years younger than myself, and one sister four years older. Father became addicted to drink after mother's death. It was agreed that my sister and myself should go to service in alternate years. So I was to stop at my first place for two half years, or two terms of six months each. That was how you were engaged then. If you left your place before the term expired you were liable to be arrested, or at any rate, you would forfeit your wages.

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LIFE'S BATTLE BEGINS.

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To me life's battles began at the age of 10 years. I was known all about as Baker Miller's wee maid. The family all attended the Congregational Church, and I had to go also. The minister's name was Dr. Jeffrey. The Manse was close by, and I was often sent there with messages. Dr. Jeffrey was a bachelor. I would find him sometimes digging in the garden, dressed up very queerly. He liked to tease me about having my photograph, which was taken with him that morning at the gate. What attracted my attention to him was his hair. It was in long ringlets, hanging down on his shoulders, and parted in the middle. When he was working in the garden or preaching his hair would hang down beautifully, like that of a lady. I went to his Sunday-school, and some words from him helped me, too, to face the future.

I can truthfully say that I only knew the alphabet, and how to read from a little spelling book, some words to my mother who died a few days after I was six years old. My greatest misfortune has been the want of schooling. There was a school in Slamannan, but it was a mile from where we lived, and there was no one to care whether we went or not. People were not compelled to send their children to school in those days. I could read some easy words in the Bible and Testament. What I could not make out I would ask someone to tell me. There were family prayers every Sunday morning and evening, and all had to attend, or at least all who lived in the house. We had to read a verse each as it came to our turn all through the chapter, either in the Bible or the Testament, as the master gave it out. I did try to be able to read my verse, for fear that the apprentice boys would laugh at me—how I used to hope that my verse would be an easy one. I was fond of reading, and they gave me nice books, while there were so many old places about in connection with the History of Scotland that it was pleasant to read about the deeds that were done, and then to go and look at the ruins.

As the time went on I grew strong and hardy, and there was plenty of good food. All had porridge and milk in the morning, with plenty of hot scones and butter, and relishes of some sort. There was no waste, and the mistress was a good cook. I was told that when she and her husband began business that she did all the fancy cooking. Even in my time she did a lot of things for the bakehouse. I used to help with the raisins and currants and lemon-peel, and the meat for the raised Scotch mutton pies and so on. Those Scotch pies produced more profit than any other item in their trade. When I come to think of it, even now, I remember that Saturday was the only day they made them. The large boards, on which the bakers used to carry the bread into the shop, would hold about eight or ten dozen raised mutton pies which were sold for two-pence each. Ever so many of the great boards were filled with pies and sent to meet orders all around. There was a fair in Denny every six months. Talk about pies! There were no clothing factories or shirt factories in Denny. There were, however, some cotton mills, to which I used to see so many poor-looking people going every morning when I was attending to the front of the shop and the private entrance. I often thought to myself that I was better off than them. The girls had no hats, and some of them had no boots, and they looked wistfully into the shop window. I know they were hungry.

There were no sewing machines in those days. If a man wanted a suit made he would employ a tailor. The tailor would bring an apprentice boy and a large iron, called a goose, and they would be there ever so long. Sometimes they worked on the kitchen table. Everything was made by hand; there was no machinery. I saw two dress suits made for the young gentlemen of the house. While I recollect how they made the outside clothing, it was evident to me that the tailors did not make the men's shirts and under-garments. These were made by women, and if a man's wife could not make his shirts, as well as wash and iron them, she would be the talk of the place. Quite wee lassies could knit their own and their father's or brothers' stockings. The wool was not dear. At a date more remote they used to spin their own wool. There was often to be seen in some lumber place the old discarded spinning-wheel. Alloway was famed for its fingering wool. The women of to-day should be thankful to see how nicely they can dress their children and themselves.

I often recall the apparel of the dim past. You could see well-to-do farmers' wives come to church, wearing a lilac or print gown in the summer, and in the winter it was replaced by a linzewince, with a plaid or kind of woollen cloth or shawl. This was two yards long and two yards wide, and was folded to hang three-cornerwise down the back from the shoulders. And then the boys and the girls. I remember well seeing quite big boys with petticoats and pinafores when 6 or 7 years old. I do not mean the kilt. It was just the same as that the girls wore. Of course the mother could make things like that when she could not do the needlework of tweed. There never was a time previously when dress was so becoming for all as it is at present. Think of the old grandfathers with knee-breeches and long stockings. I only saw my grandfather once, and that is how he was dressed.

To say that I was always happy and had an easy life would not be true. I was often in tears and in disgrace. I would break some thing, or put things where they could not be found. I felt as if I belonged to nobody, and would have a cry to myself. Still, I must confess that I received kindly appreciation from all. The only daughter was about to be married, and I knew that neither myself nor my sister would be old enough to do the work when that time came. A healthy body makes a healthy mind whether happy or not, so I began to think of going home after Miss Isabel was married. What I had seen of my father did not comfort me. My heart cried out for someone to show me how to write. Miss Isabel was giving me lessons on a slate. From all I remember of our home life in looking back into the past, after all these years, I know that I did my best to gain instruction. I tried my hardest to find out for myself the way to do things.

The months passed by, bringing the New Year. Christmas time was not much spoken of then. My master noticed how earnest I was, and must have thought that I should learn the baking. I could see that Miss Isabel could work in the bakehouse like the men. I got to like going there, too. What a time we had getting cakes ready for the new year. I remember that one bedroom had the carpet taken up and all the furniture removed and the floor cleaned, while the cakes were put in, and built on some framework nearly to the ceiling.

It was the custom to give to the customers at New Year's time a fruit cake. They called it a currant bun, but sometimes it weighed from 2 to 4 lb. There were all sorts of fruit in them, with boxes and boxes full of raisins, candied peel, currants, and all sorts of spices. All of these were prepared in the kitchen, and I used to help often till late at night. I know that they were not iced like the Christmas cakes we see here. But those bakers could do some lovely work with sugar. What I saw then has been valuable and important to me all through my life to this date, which proves that a special interest in the usefulness of cooking may become a part of a young girl's training, as much as reading or writing. I have been teacher of cookery for many years now, and I teach without a textbook. Instead of giving pupils recipes, I teach that which I have tried and proved by experience.

But I must keep to the bygone days. It was customary when there was a funeral in the neighborhood, and the people were not too poor, for them to send an order for a special kind of sponge biscuits, which had to be made at once. Sometimes such a large quantity was wanted that all hands had to help. If there were frost and snow about it was hard to whip up the eggs, so they used to get a good-sized cask, half fill it with hot water, and stand the mixing basin on that. The steam from the water helped in the whisking of the eggs. If there were no heat the eggs would be frozen while whisking. It was always my duty to whip the eggs. Then some skilled hand would come and put in some of the sugar, and keep on putting in more sugar time after time till the specific weight was used. Then the flour was added. At last I got so experienced that I could add the sugar myself by the appearance of the eggs, and, eventually, I could add the flour and take the basin of mixture to the bakehouse all ready to drop into the desired shape. I make sponge cakes in the same way yet,