The Narrative of Gordon Sellar Who Emigrated to Canada in 1825 | Page 5

the night,
and, going into the house, he brought out a coggie of milk and a barley
scone. When I had finished, he took me to the byre and left me in a stall
of straw, telling me to leave early for his wife hated gangrel bodies and
would not, when she came in, rest content, if she knew there was
anybody in the stable. When daylight came it was raining. I started
without anybody seeing me from the house. I was soon wet to the skin,
but I trudged on, saying to myself every now and then You're a
Scotchman, never say die. There were few on the road, and when I met
a postman and asked how far I was from Dundonald, his curt reply was,
You are in it. I was dripping wet and oh so perished with cold and
hunger that I made up my mind to stop at the first house I came to. As
it happened, it was a farm-house a little bit from the road. I went to the
kitchen-door where there was a hen trying to keep her chicks out of the
rain. There were voices of children at play and of a woman as if
crooning a babe to sleep. I stood a while before I ventured to knock.
There was no answer and after waiting a few minutes I knocked again.
A boy of my own age opened the door. An old woman came towards
me and asked what I wanted. I am cold, I said, and, please, might I
warm myself? She was deaf and did not catch what I said. 'Whose bairn
are you?' she asked me. Mary Askew's, I replied, I noticed the younger
woman who had the child in her lap fixed her gaze on me. Where are
you from? grannie asked. From Glasgow and I am so cold. Laying
down the child in the cradle, the younger woman came to me and
sitting on a stool took my hands. 'Where did your mother belong?' she

asked in a kind voice. She came from the parish of Dundonald. 'And
where is your father?' He is dead. 'And is your mother in Glasgow?'
She died in the hospital, and the thought of that sad time set the tears
running down my cheeks. 'You poor motherless bairn!' she exclaimed,
'can it be you are the child of my old school companion? Have you any
brothers or sisters?' No, I have nobody in the world. 'Did your mother
leave you nothing?' In my simplicity, not understanding she meant
worldly gear, I untied my bundle, uncovered the cloth I had wrapped
round it to keep it dry, and handed her the bible. She looked at the
writing. 'I remember when she got it, as a prize for repeating the 119th
psalm without missing a word.' Putting her arms round my neck she
kissed me and holding me to the light she said 'You have your mother's
eyes and mouth.'
The boy and girl took me to the fire, and, when grannie was got to
understand who I was, she bustled round to heat over some of the broth
left from dinner and while it was warming the little girl forced her piece
into my mouth. The other boy came to me full of curiosity. Feeling my
legs he whispered, You're starvit. By-and-by a cart drove into the yard.
It was the master with his hired man. When he was told who I was, he
called me to him and patted me on the head. That night I slept with
Allan, the name of the older boy. His brother's name was Bob, and the
girl's Alice. The baby had not been christened. The name of the master
of the house was Andrew Anderson.

CHAPTER II
.
Hating to be a burden on the family I was eager to work. Too weak for
farm duties, I helped about the house and came, in course of time, to
earn a good word from grannie. Tho of the same age, there was a great
difference between Allan and myself. He could lift weights I could not
move, did not get tired as I did, and as the stronger took care of me We
were all happy and getting-on well when trouble came from an
unlooked for quarter. The master got notice from the factor that, on his
lease running out the following year, the rent would be raised. He did
not look for this. During his lease he had made many improvements at
his own cost and thought they would more than count against any rise

in the value of farm lands. He remonstrated with the factor, who said he
could do nothing, his lordship wanted more revenue from his estate and
there was a