Fifty Years of Railway Life in England, Scotland and Ireland | Page 3

and exercises, to my great disadvantage then and since, for
proficiency is only gained by early training, and unfortunate is he
whose circumstances have deprived him of that advantage. How often,
since those early days, have I looked with envious eyes on pastimes in
which I could not engage, or only engage with the consciousness of
inferiority.
I have known men who, handicapped in this way, have in after life, by
strong will and great application, overcome their disabilities and
become good cricketers, great at tennis, proficient at golf, strong
swimmers, skilful shots; but they have been exceptional men with a
strong natural inclination to athletics.
The only active physical recreations in which I have engaged with any

degree of pleasure are walking, riding, bicycling and skating. Riding I
took to readily enough as soon as I was able to afford it; and, if my
means had ever allowed indulgence in the splendid pastime of hunting,
I would have followed the hounds, not, I believe, without some spirit
and boldness. My natural disposition I know inclined me to sedentary
pursuits: reading, writing, drawing, painting, though, happily, the
tendency was corrected to some extent by a healthy love of Nature's
fair features, and a great liking for country walks.
In drawing and painting, though I had a certain natural aptitude for both,
I never attained much proficiency in either, partly for lack of
instruction, partly from want of application, but more especially, I
believe, because another, more alluring, more mentally exciting
occupation beguiled me. It was not music, though to music close allied.
This new-found joy I long pursued in secret, afraid lest it should be
discovered and despised as a folly. It was not until I lived in Scotland,
where poetical taste and business talent thrive side by side, and where,
as Mr. Spurgeon said, "no country in the world produced so many
poets," that I became courageous, and ventured to avow my dear
delight. It was there that I sought, with some success, publication in
various papers and magazines of my attempts at versification, for
versification it was that so possessed my fancy. Of the spacious times
of great Elizabeth it has been written, "the power of action and the gift
of song did not exclude each other," but in England, in mid-Victorian
days, it was looked upon differently, or so at least I believed.
After a time I had the distinction of being included in a new edition of
Recent and Living Scottish Poets, by Alexander Murdoch, published in
1883. My inclusion was explained on the ground that, "His muse first
awoke to conscious effort on Scottish soil," which, though not quite in
accordance with fact, was not so wide of the mark that I felt in the least
concerned to criticise the statement. I was too much enamoured of the
honour to question the foundation on which it rested. Perhaps it was as
well deserved as are some others of this world's distinctions! At any
rate it was neither begged nor bought, but came "Like Dian's kiss,
unasked, unsought." In the same year (1883) I also appeared in
_Edwards_' Sixth Series of _Modern Scottish Poets_; and in 1885,

more legitimately, in William Andrews' book on Modern Yorkshire
Poets. My claim for this latter distinction was not, however, any greater,
if as great, as my right to inclusion in the collection of Scottish Poets. If
I "lisped in numbers," it was not in Yorkshire, for Yorkshire I left for
ever before even the first babblings of babyhood began. However,
"kissing goes by favour," and I was happy in the favour I enjoyed.
I may as well say it here: with my poetical productions I was never
satisfied any more than with my attempts at drawing. My verses
seemed mere farthing dips compared with the resplendent poetry of our
country which I read and loved, but my efforts employed and
brightened many an hour in my youth that otherwise would have been
tedious and dreary.
Ours was a large family, nine children in all; nothing unusual in those
days. "A quiver full" was then a matter of parental pride. Woman was
more satisfied with home life then than now. The pursuit of pleasure
was not so keen. Our parents and our grandparents were simpler in their
tastes, more easily amused, more readily impressed with the wonderful
and the strange. Things that would leave us unmoved were to them
matters of moment. Railways were new and railway travelling was, to
most people, an event.
Our fathers talked of their last journey to London, their visit to the
Tower, to Westminster Abbey, the Monument, Madame Tussauds; how
they mistook the waxwork policeman for a real member of the force;
how they shuddered in the _Chamber of Horrors_; how they travelled
on the new