A Friend For Life

I must tell you how much I enjoyed reading the very interesting article about The People’s Friend in the May issue. It brought back so many happy memories of my mother reading her Friend as it was always known in our family way back in pre-war days when magazines were not so abundant as they are today. I would not go quite so far as to say I learned to read with The Friend, but I can clearly recall proudly picking out words that I recognised. To quote my mother who died in 1971 aged 92, “There’s nae ill in the Friend.” In early war years we lived in Gullane and can remember seeing Annie S. Swan out shopping in the village. How proud we were to have a well-known author living in our village. The Red Letter, too, was a family favourite, but nothing matched the Friend in my mother’s opinion.

G. Gell Haddington, East Lothian.

 

Premature Death

The article in April’s issue on the Law’s war memorial, “An Inspiring Sight”, mentions one survivor’s surprise on finding his name on a Roll of Honour. The well-known pre-1914 Forfarshire Cricketer, R. G. “Bobby” Tait, was reported “Killed In Action”. However, he had survived, although seriously wounded — he lost his left eye — and took great delight in later years, showing his “death notice” to all interested. He carried the obituary in his wallet. I saw it once in the late 1950s or 1960s.

Iain S. Taylor, Kellas, By Dundee.

The Pull Of A Pool

My Canadian friends lived in Scotland for some time and as their family was growing they were looking to move to a bigger house in the area. They were chatting with a neighbour and mentioned this and that the children wanted a house with a swimming pool. About a week later they saw the same neighbour who said she’d seen a house nearby that might be just what they were looking for. “Oh aye,” she said, “it’s much bigger and it’s got a pool downstairs.” My Canadian friends thought this was just the thing so they went to the estate agent to ask about seeing the house. Sure enough the house was lovely and they asked the agent about the pool downstairs. “Of course,” he said and they followed him (very puzzled) up to the bedrooms. On the landing he grabbed a pole and pulled down the trap door in the ceiling . . . which revealed pull down stairs to the attic!

Elspeth Raisbeck, Soberton, Hants.

 

William Ewart

In his article (April) on Stephen Mitchell, Roddy Simpson referred briefly to William Ewart, Liberal MP for Dumfries Burghs (1841-1868) who was responsible for the legislation in 1850-1855 which provided for the introduction of free public libraries in Great Britain. William Ewart, MP was born in Liverpool in 1798, being the son of another William Ewart, himself the son of a Dumfries minister. William Ewart, Senior (who died in 1823) had become a prosperous merchant in Liverpool and was a friend of (Sir) John Gladstone (from Leith), another prosperous Liverpool merchant, and this friendship resulted in the middle name of Ewart being given to (Sir) John’s most famous son, William Ewart Gladstone (born 1809), the future Liberal Prime Minister. William Ewart, MP, who represented other constituencies between 1830 and 1841, was also responsible for the legislation in 1834 which abolished hanging in chains, laws in 1837 which abolished capital punishment for cattle stealing and similar offences and in 1864 for legalising the use of metric weights and measures. Also in 1864, as a strong advocate for the total abolition of capital punishment, he succeeded in the appoint-ment of a Commons select committee to examine the subject. Other reforms which he was the first to advocate and have since been implemented included annual parliamentary statements on education and the examination of candidates for the civil service and the army.

Alexander S. Waugh, Banchory, Kincardineshire.

Taking A Dip

I noted Jim Crumley’s observation on the remarkable dipper (March 2009). On the slopes of Ingleborough in the Yorkshire Dales, the Bradford Pothole Club erect their winch each year in order to descend the pothole called Gaping Gill. A dipper invariably nests some 10 feet down the underground 322-foot waterfall of the pothole. The fledgling chicks only get one chance at their first flight. It is either a long drop to doom, or a successful flap up to the moorland. Somehow the mother and the chicks have an instinct that tells them when the time is right.

Neil Dyson, Carperby, North Yorkshire.

 

Front Line

How I empathised with James Craig’s recollections of being out on the Front Line in the Glasgow Schools (March). I cut my teeth in one such establishment in “Toonheid”, in the “Parlie Road”. The “class sook” brought flowers, which he could ill afford on a Friday afternoon. Indeed, the classic description of a teacher in those days was “A wee case, a poor face and a bunch of flooers”. Another noteworthy pupil was the “class clype”. Not long after my arrival, I was taken aside by one of my pupils, aged 10 going on 40. He pointed out to me all the miscreants and informed me of their various “indiscretions”. At the end, he hesitated, put his hand up to his mouth and said in a stage whisper, “And that one, Miss, he pees the flair.” The “Please excuse” notes were a joy to behold. They always started with “Dear Miss”, irrespective of one’s marital status. They were all written on baker’s bags. Unlike James Craig, in latter years I discovered that a former pupil did hold a grudge against me. I was approached by a grizzly-looking, middle-aged man who addressed me as, “Toonheid wis ye?” I nodded. He said, “My, bit youse wiz hard on us!” I replied brightly and ingratiatingly, “But look what a great job I made of you.” He replied, “A’ve just come oot o’ Carstairs after 11 years.”

J. McDonald, Oban.