The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1890-08-24

IN the play OF the sunlight, the great mist
banner Of the advancing waters is flung
from Scotland TO England, almost IRON
Criffel to Silloth, and moves toward you
like lurid cloud above a running battle.
In lew moments more the brillianey of the
is greatest. Preceding the ad-
vancng cloud along the seethng front of a
wall OF water five miles wide. glitter, foams
and Kisses bank of spume and spray,
ZoDed, rlmmed and interlaCed with tiny
rainbows. The roaring of the believing
water-hostS becomes deafening. For an
instant you are enveloped by the cloud.
That passed, while you thrill with the mys-
terry and awful grandeur of the spectacle,
the great tide-head is abreast of you, true
tde-bOre, such as breaks majestically into
Minas and other estuaries of the Bay OF
Fundy, cylindrical and straight as an arrow
across the Firth, and from six to eight feet
in height, which sw eeps past with a below
and shrek like that of a hundred thous-
and coast fog-hOrnS bowling in unison;
while close in its wake is hillocky, tenn
pestuous mass of waves brilliantly gorgeous
in htfully-swepts prismaiic colors; and the
Solway tide is in.
Some English tramps were singing for
their breakfasts before the doors of the
grave Scottish villagers at Ecclefeehan
when l trampeS into the hamlet behind
them. There were i've of them, great, hulk
ing fellows, and their hOarse and agrees
slve believing was the only sound indica-
tive Of human life in the village, even at
that late hour Of the morning. They stood
beside q melodi0uS burn which dashed from
under covered way and coursed on through
the village street. AT one side of the
stream was an ancient wall. On the other
were Struggling houses, and the one before
which
THE VAGABONDs
Lifted up their narrowing voices was one
Of the plainest and quaintestin Ecclefechan.
From its appearance it might have been an
Olden Stable; an abandoned lodge at the en-
trance to some gentlemans establishment
formerly located behind it; or the ancient
jail of the village, now Smartly white
washed and transformed into a luwly habi-
tatou. 1t was mite of a thing with an
archWay through ii occupying One-third of
the lower story. At each side was a mar
row oaken door, and, nearer each end,
tiny window. In the second story another
little window, above each lower one, looked
into the street, and over the center of the
archway We're two still more diminutiye
windows side by side. 1t was a double
house of the dwarf variety, and the one at
the north end, where the strong lunged sor-
ners sang, was the birthplace of Thomas
Carlyle
The believing had brought mutch-capped
guIdwiYeS to various windows and ailey en-
frances at safe distances. | loitered near
enough to hear them discuss the matin-song
former occupants.
They medina fash (trouble) theirsels tae
sing there, croaked one old dame with a
gentle swaying of her head betokening a
reminiscential vein Of remark. They
neeht roar theirselS black i the face afore
they Il draw bluId frae that neep Jurnip)p'
''Oh. aye, cr0Oned a still older old Wo-
man, its Weel kent nae puir body liver
saw, .syne OF soon, the reeht side O. the Car
lyles' siller"
How Carlyle's adorers would have
groaned to hear these old neighbors 60
onl One limited at their pride with, They
thocht thelrsels nae sheep-shanksW An
other of their thrift with, They nee'r
selPd their hens on a rainy day" An
other, OF miSerlinesS with, They gae their
banes to nae dogs" Another, of their aus
terity with, They warna guild to neebor
vii" And another bent cid body summed
up what any one will at once find to be the
universal feeling in the testy little village,
with the crisp epitome, They were i'll to
thOie!' That Is, 1t was hard to get along
with the Carlyles. 1t is historic that others
besides these dim old souls, some who lived
in the same houses with them found it just
that way.
The tramps got nothing for their offerto-
ry, and, after few vicious kicks at the
door, departed; giving me opportunity to
reach the house just as the huge form and
red, yein0us face of Mrs. John G0urley,
care-taker, appeared at the door. Shaking
a fine bludgeon after the vanishing Migrants
she relieved her indignation with: "HootS !!
It's a weary day for auld Scotland whan
there's nae body I fend hoose like this
fra tina low English beggarsl'' and then. in
radiant expectancy Of low English sax
pence" babe me enter.
There is but one room below stairs. In
the upper story
THERE Is a ROOM THE SAME SIZE
q !
as sort of showroom, and is well enough
filed to be interesting with Carlyle relics,
including his famous cotfee-pOt, in which
he was wont to brew his own coffee and his
equally Observation-Disclosures of the
CheyRe Row, Chelsea, inspiration, and in
separable companions of his Feasibility and
dyspepsia. Off this little chamber and sit
ting-room, in which is set quaint old fire.
place, is a little. long, low bedroom over
the archway, and in this Thomas Carlyle
was born. Altogether the place is uninvit-
ing, meager, hard, austere. The father
who built it was cody, stubborn,
irascible linty as the Scotch gran
tie in which he wrought as a stone
mason, truly sill to thole," as the
bent backed old guidwife, who knew him,
so aptly described the family. DisaSsociat-
ing the man Thomas Carlyle from the hero
ism of his lofty work, you cannot come to
one spot made warm, tender and glowing
.
dreary old kirk-yard where he lies, but a
few steps from where be was born, intensi-
fies the feeling that something of the human
and humane wac lacking, or was denied, his
whole line. There does not seem to be one
soul in all the region where he was born
and reared who recalls the family name
with loving kindness and respect. To be
known as pilgrim to the Carlyle
home and tomb is to be regarded
with suspicion and sneerS. The very
graVe-stone is parsimonlous and shah
by; the Enclosure unkempt; weeds and
brambles crowd the spot closely. the lad
that uniocks the gate smokers behind you;
and as | stood for little time leaning upon
the iron railing in contemplation Of the
lonely, neglected grave of this rare old
warrior in the field of letters, wondering,
after all, If any true greatness can exist so
far above the heads and the hearts OF the
loWIy that they are not reached, aided and
encompassed by it; bevy of rose-cheeked,
roguish-eyed Scotch lassies passed; and re-
garding me with hilarious scorn for over
looking the merits of Ecclefechan itself for
dismal lettering where the hearts Of none
here tn rned, one fair maiden applied to a
certain disciple of Carlyle such sturdy
words of badinage as might well bewilder
the bravest pilgrim to shrines in foreign
lands.
AT FCcLEFECHAN.
Musfng lone one summer morning
In an ancient Scottish krs-yard
BY the grave of rare Old Carlyle,
Reverent bowed and deep in dreaming
Suddenly there passed maiden;
Passed. but paused. Then, smiling, quoth she:
There's no yon but staGes an brOmbieS:
Muekle mair's in Ecciefechau!"
Then the roguish maiden vanished
From the place OF stones and brambles,
And left the dank old kirk-yard
With the lesson of her scOrning;
Keep thy soul from out the shadows;
Turn thy life from graves to gladnessi
This though but hint III living
This learned at Ecclefechan
@CopyTight, 1890. EDGAR L. wAISEMAN-
In the Quiet Country.
had been staying at an Indiana farm
house all night and next morning the farmer
said he would give me a lift into town.
When he was ready to go he called to his
oldest boy:
s. Bill, is that shotgun loaded with salt
for tramps?"
Yes"
"Got the gates shut so that no mad dogs
git in?"
"Yes"
"Well. keep a lookout for windmill
lightnlng-rod, organ, and sewing-machine
men Don't have auV truck with the ped