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    188 A WEEK IN SCOTLAND.

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  • Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.

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    A —. ~* You Need Not Be Afraid, Dear Rea...

    amount of sickness and death with the certainty of a law . _" What has become of the Angel of Death , with sword uplifted ? what

    of the genius with torch reversed , in whom the ancients "believed ? Modern science hedges him into a narrow track—snatches the

    chil-, dren from under his grasp , —gives up the old man of three score and ten to the inevitable destroyer , but casts a shield of protection

    over man and matron , youth and maid , and is willing to " contract " that the scythe of the mower shall be too blunt to cut down the

    grass of the field . This singular discourse and these lively reflections were cut short

    by the entrance of a—Dutchman , who took his seat at Wigan , and was likewise bound for the Association . Alas ! he was far

    from resembling the typical Dutchman of our picture-books . He "was not a bit like Mynheer van Dunk , who never got drunk , though

    he " sipped brandy and water daily . " He was neither red , nor roundnor very short ; and he spoke very good English . He had

    , been sent over by some " parties connected with insurance , " and he entered into discourse with the Vice-President on the bad sanitary

    condition of the canals at Rotterdam . He was much excited about the Cumberland mountains , and disappointed when we told him they

    were hardly visible from the railway ; but we showed him the lovely grey vision of Morecambe Bay , looming softly in the twilight , like

    an artist's study in neutral tints , and that was the last we saw of the face of nature . Twilight deepened and darkened , and we rolled

    from Lancaster up to Kendal Junction , and thence to Penrith . It was pitch dark when we snorted and whistled with weary throbbing

    heads into the great station of " merrie Carlisle . " The next morning saw us driven forth again by the unresting

    spirit of Social Science , past Gretna , where folks go to get married no more ; past Solway Firthwhich always reminds one of the sands

    , o' Dee , * past Locherbie where lingers an echo of the dance-music amidst which his stolen bride was vaulted into the saddle by young

    L / ochinvar , then right through the heart of Scottish hills , till ugly chimneys loomand fierce fires belch out by daylightlooking ghastly

    in the sun , and , buildings thicken , and smoke gets , blacker , and the atmosphere decidedly objectionable , and we stop to have our tickets

    taken , and finally tumble out more dead than alive on to the platform at Glasgow .

    But there is no rest for the scientific;—they must look for lodgings : —and where on earth are they to find them in this

    wilderness of brick and mortar ? We—meaning myself and a companion , whom I had picked up at Carlisle—set our luggage on to a cab , and

    drive to the " Office of the Association , " of which the address has been printed into our brains for some weeks j ) _ast . But there is no

    one at the " Office , " which is a merchant's private counter , and we are told that all lettersaddresseslodgingsacquaintancesGeneral

    , , , , Secretary included , are to be left and found , at the "Reception Room . "

    Off again to the Reception Room , a huge apartment in the Trades '

    188 A Week In Scotland.

    188 A WEEK IN SCOTLAND .

• Citation
  • English Woman’s Journal (1858-1864), Nov. 1, 1860, page 188, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse-os.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/ewj/issues/ewj_01111860/page/44/