Rough Scan
ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILWAY
DEAR BAILIE,—Ye’ll
be wondering why I haena had a trip before this on the new Underground
Railway, but the truth is that Betty wis frichtit tae go, as she had
heard they had nae lichts. Last
week, hooever, I said tae her that I had heard they had noo great raws
o’ lichts, an’ that the hale place wis like an illumination, so the
next day we gaed up tae Queen Street wi’ fear an’ trembling, for it
was a queer sensation for auld folk like us tae be hurlin’ doon ablow
the hooses an’ streets. Getting oor tickets, awa’ we gaed the the heid
o’ the stair, where we saw a sign up, “Shew your tickets.” Thinks I, the North British Railway Company
are coming oot in a new way noo—as reformers o’ oor spelling. I used tae aye spell it ”show,” but maybe I
wis wrang. Betty cries, “Oh,
Jeems, I doot it’s no safe yet, for ye see we've tae shew oor tickets
for fear o’ us lossing them in a collision.
I wish I had brocht my needle an’ thread; I could hae stitched
them on tae your coat sleeve.” But
I explained tae her it wis j ist an improved way o’ spelling.
Awa’ we gaed doon a wheen stairs intae a dark place that put
me in min’ o’ yon caverns o’ pandemonium ye see in the pantomimes, an’
in a wee up comes oor train, an’ in we bundled, an’ wi’ a shriek we
plunged intae darkness.
Oor carriage
wis gey crooded. On one side
next the window wis a young lad, an’ I wis next him; opposite him,
at the ither window, wis a young lass, an’ Betty sat next her, an’ next
tae Betty wis an auld fat wife wi’ a big basket, an’ then twa laddies
an’ a wheen ither folk. The lad an’ lass were evidently coortin’, but
the lass looked as if she had been in the huff wi’ him aboot something,
for she held her heid awa’ frae him, an’ flattened her nose against
the gless. Maybe he had been poppin’ the question afore
we got in. “Hooever, it’s nane
o’ my business,” says I to mysel’, “we’ve a’ tae dae that once in oor
lives.” As there wis nae appearance o’ ony lichts,
I wis a wee nervous, but I held in my breath an' sat still till I hears
a voice saying in a whisper, “Oh, Leezabuth, will ye no turn roon?” Then in a wee, “Leezabuth! I say Leezabuth,
will ye no look at me?” As Leezabuth
is my wife’s name, I thocht it wis somebody speaking tae her, so I put
oot my haun in the darkness tae try tae guard her face frae whaever
wis speaking tae her, an’ I hears in a hoarse woman’s voice that wis
nut Betty’s “Auld man, jist keep yer hauns tae yersel’, or I’ll
gi’e ye in chairge tae the polis.”
So I drew in my hauns an’ sat as far back as I could, an’ jist
as I did that, a female face fell on my neck an’ kissed me, an' said
in aboot the sweetest tones I hae heard for mony years, “An’ it wis
angry wi’ its Leezie, was it? Oh,
ye’re my ain wee doo after a’.”
“Am I,” says
I, “ye’ll excuse me, mem, but this is hardly the proper place for coortin’,
especially a man that micht be your gran’faither,” an’ whaever it wis
gaed a lood squeal, an’ my ain Betty cried out, “What’s wrang,
Jeems? Are ye feelin’ faint?” when the fat woman exclaims,
“It’s that auld hoary-heided ruffian trying tae kiss me.” Then the twa laddies that were in the ither
corner cries :—
“This is better
fun than the caur,” an they began tae whustle wi’ their fingers, an’
one o’ them reached ower a walking-stick on chance, an’ knocked my hat
doon ower my ‘heid.
“Michty me,”
says I, “this bates a’. Wha
did that? Wis that you, mem,
you wi’ the basket sittin’ forenent me?
If it wis—“
"No, it
wisna me, but that wis me, ye dooble-dyed auld reprobate that ye are,”
an’ she cam’ doon ower my knees wi’ the basket.
“Oh, Jeems,”
cried oot Betty, “I wish I had gaen in ane o' thae penny boats; they’re
no verra clean, but it’s aye daylicht wi’ them.”
Jist then the
train arrived at one o’ the lanterns.
BAILIE, the science an’ skill o’ the age is extr’ornar, and the
North British Railway evidently spare nae expense in takin’ advantage
o’ it. Being new tae underground railways at first,
they couldn’t be expeckit tae ken that lichts were needit, but after
a lot o’ indignant letters tae the papers, an’ a collision, they put
their best foot foremost, an’ then triumphantly exclaimed.
"Noo we hae the
tunnel lichtit up. Noo the nervous needna be feared.
Noo come wi’ your pennies, an’ see what we’ve dune for ye.” So this wis one o’ the lichts! It wis for a’ the worl' like a spunk struck
suddenly, an’ then blawn oot in the middle o’ a big kirk on a dark
nicht. Past the licht we flash before we could, even
see the darkness we were in, an’ then—suppose it wis ane o’ the
laddies-something
grippit me by the ankles, an' "gurred” like a dog, an’ when I made
a dive sideways oot o its road I cam’ against a decent, quiet man that
wis takin’ a smoke, an’ no’ speakin’ tae onybody, an' he leant ower
tae me an’ whispers, “Leezabuth’s ower at the ither corner-ye’ve turned
the wrang way." At this the hard-voiced woman wi’ the basket says,
“Is he at you noo? he’s perfectly ootrageous”; an’ I cried in my vexation,
“For gnidness sake, Betty, whaur are ye?”
“I’m here,” says the young woman.
“Hut, tut! it’s no’ you,” I cried, “it’s-”
“Keep a grip
o’ your purse, mem,” I heard the hard-voiced woman saying, “he’s no’
canny that man. I wish we wid
come tae anither licht. Oh,
there’s anither ane—huch, it’s awa’ already.
Has naebody a match?” Evidently
naebody had a match, so we sat still an’ listened tae the beatin’ o’
oor herts.
“Wid ye like
tae come ower beside me?” I whispers across tae Betty.
“No, I widna,”
cried oot the fat woman—dod, BAILIE, that woman seemed tae be a’ ower
the carriage-”but if there’s law an’ justice in the land, my man, ye’ll
get it when we come tae Finnieston.”
"Will ye
wheesht, woman,” says I; “I’m no’ speakin’ tae you at a’.”
“Bow, wow, wow,"
cam' frae the faur-awa’ corner, an' somebody cried, “Rats, Towser,”
an’ then there wis a great scuffling an’ worrying like, an’ Betty cried
oot, “Oh, Jeems, this is awfu'. I’m
fenting. Oh, for a drink o’
water.”
"Here,
mem,” I heard the fat woman saying, “tak’ a sup o’ this. Wait till I see if it’s no the bottle wi’ the
cough mixture. No; here it is.”
Noo, it seems
that the mention o’ a bottle livened up the quiet man, an’ he put oot
his haun an’ grippit the bottle, an after refreshing himsel’ he handed
it back tae the owner, wha asked, “D'ye feel better noo, mem?”
“I canna say
I do,” says Betty.
I thocht it
wis time I should help my wife, so I reached ower, but I happened tae
touch the bottle, when the owner screamed oot, “He’s after the bottle
noo,” an’ there wis likely tae be anither row, only we arrived at Charing
Cross Station. I thocht I wid get out afore we cam’ tae the
polis office at Finnieston. When
we stepped on tae the platform, I says tae Betty, “Sit doon here a wee
an’ get your breath, an’ I’ll tak’ a smoke tae settle my nerves.” So we sat doon on a sate, an’ I had a crack
wi’ ane o’ the porters.
“Man,” says
he, wiping his broo wi’ his nepkin, “this is awfu’ wark. We’re doon here a’ day, for a’ the worl’ like
yon bears doon the pit in the Zoological Gardens. We can see naethin’ either tae the richt or
the left—naethin’ but the sky abin, an’ oor lives are terrified oot
o’ us. The trains go scooting oot an’ scooting in
like rats rinning intae a hole. In
fac’, sir, if I don’t get a chinge I’m going tae ask for a ‘rise,’ for
this’ll tak a guid few years aff my life.
But yon lichts is a great institution, sir, they quite enliven
ye. I’m sure ye felt quite prood when ye cam’ tae
one?”
“I did that,”
says I; “I thocht so much o’ them I wis wishing a’ the time there had
been hunners o’ them instead o’ dizzens.”
“That’s what
a’ the passengers say, but we hivna ony lichts past this—frae this tae
Finnieston there’s nane.”
“D’ye tell me
that?”
“Aye, it’s a
fac’.”
“An’ hoo’s that?”
“Weel, ye see,
a’ the folk that writes tae the papers come oot here, so there’s nae
need’s giein’ lichts tae the Finnieston folk; it wid jist be throwing
awa’ money giein’ them lichts.”
Betty an’ me
cam’ oot, BAILIE, an’ putting her intae a caur, I went up ootside, and,
lichtin’ my pipe, I thocht tae mysel’, “Happy Finnieston folk tae hae
a philosophical spirit under trying circumstances, wha widna imitate
you?” but I’ll hae nae mair o’ the Underground Railway till they treat
us decently and gie us lichts.