Zigzag Journeys in Europe Part 11

Then one of the quartermasters on our own s.h.i.+p brought several small flags and a signal-book from the wheel-house. He opened the book to a page of colored pictures of small flags, five of which corresponded to those raised by the s.h.i.+p in view. Opposite each flag was a figure. The figures combined in order made the number 94,362.

The quartermaster turned to another page, and opposite this number appeared the name and port of the s.h.i.+p.

The s.h.i.+p hoisted another set of flags, which was answered by our own s.h.i.+p.

"She asks to know our reckonings," said the quartermaster.

"Can a s.h.i.+p meeting another ask other questions in this way?" inquired George Howe.

"Oh, yes; two vessels miles apart can carry on a long conversation with each other. s.h.i.+ps have a regular alphabet of signal flags."

"What are signals of distress?" asked George.

"That flag," said the quartermaster, pointing to a picture in the book, "means a fire or a leak. (1)

"This means a want of food. (2)

"And that, aground. (3)

"Here is one that signifies, 'Will you take a letter from me?'" (4)

[Ill.u.s.tration: {SIGNALS.} _Fig. 1._ _Fig. 2._ _Fig. 3._ _Fig. 4._]

This dialogue between the two s.h.i.+ps was the most pleasing and exciting episode of the voyage, until land began to appear as a dim streak upon the horizon.

CHAPTER V.

THE LAND OF SCOTT AND BURNS.

Glasgow.--Visit to Ayr.--Story of Highland Mary.--Glasgow to Edinburgh.--Scene in Edinburgh at Night.--The Castle.-- Melrose.--Long Summer Days.

Old Glasgow, almost encircled by hills and uplands, presents a picturesque view, as the steamer moves slowly up the narrowing channel of the Clyde. But with its rapid commercial growth, its 2,000,000 spindles, its steam-power, and its busy marts of trade, it is a city of the present rather than the past, and beyond the Knox monument and the Cathedral presents few attractions to the history-loving stranger.

Our tourists stopped at Glasgow to make a day's excursion to the home of Burns. They were taken from the boat to the Queen's Hotel in George's Square; but George Howe and Leander Towle after resting with the rest of the party, secured lodgings in a private house.

The boys arose the next morning, with dreams of the Doon and Ayr. To their disappointment, a heavy mist hung over the city; and they found it a dreary and disappointing walk to the South Side Station, where they were to take the train for Ayr. The two hours' ride on the train was as colorless; they were whirled through a novel and beautiful summer landscape, but Nature had dropped her sea-curtain and sky-curtain of fog and mist over all.

When the party arrived at Ayr, it was raining. The boys' faces, too, were cloudy, and each one pressed Master Lewis with the question, "What shall we do?"

Tommy Toby at last answered the rather embarra.s.sing question with, "Let us consult the barometer."

[Ill.u.s.tration: {THE BOYS CONSULT THE BAROMETER.}]

The barometer, too, wore a cloudy face, and frowned at them, as though it meant never to predict fine weather again.

But, after waiting awhile at the station, there were signs of lifting clouds and clearing skies. A weather-wise old Scotchman promised the party a fair day, and bid them "G.o.d speed" for the home of "Robbie Burns." Presently, the sun began to shoot his lances through the mist, and the tourists set out for their first walk, which was to be a two-mile one, to Burns's cottage.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BIRTHPLACE OF ROBERT BURNS.]

The cottage was indeed an humble one. It was built by the father of Burns, with his own hands, before his marriage, and originally contained two rooms.

In the interior of the kitchen, a Scotchwoman showed to the party a recess where

"The bard peasant first drew breath."

The simplicity of the place and its enn.o.bling a.s.sociations seemed to touch all except Tommy, who remarked to Frank Gray,--

"I was born in a better room than that myself."

"But I fear you never will be called to sing the songs of a nation."

"I fear I never shall," said Tommy, meekly.

From the cottage, the party went to the Burns monument.

From the base of its columns, the beauties of Scottish scenery began to appear.

"It is the way in which one ends life that honors the place of one's birth," said Frank to Tommy.

"So I see," said Tommy, as the sun came out and covered the beautiful monument, and illuminated the record of the poet's fame.

The tourists, under the direction of a Scottish farmer, whose acquaintance Master Lewis had made, next proceeded to an eminence commanding a view of the mansion house of Coilsfield, the romance-haunting Castle of Montgomery.

"There," said the Scotchman, "lived Burns's first sweetheart."

"Highland Mary?" asked several voices.

"Yes."

"They were separated by death," said Master Lewis. "Can you tell us the story?"

"As Mary was expecting soon to be wedded to Burns, she went to visit her kin in Argyles.h.i.+re. She met Burns for the last time on a Sunday in May. It was a lovely day, and standing one on the one side and one on the other of a small brook, and holding a Bible between them, they promised to be true to each other for ever.

"On the journey, Mary fell sick and died. You have read Burns's lines 'To Mary in Heaven'?"

That sacred hour can I forget?

Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love?

Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace!

Ah! little thought we 'twas our last!

"Do you ever sing the songs of Burns?" asked Master Lewis.

"Would you like to hear me try 'Highland Mary'?"

"Do!" said Ernest Wynn, who was always affected by ballad music.