Kate and the children. “Ach! In such a big city there’s bound to be somewhere for us to stay,” he pronounced in greater confidence than he felt.
At last the
Catriona
was brought alongside the quay at the Broomielaw. James, Kate and the two children collected their bundles and said farewell to Peter Mathieson.
“Have ye any idea of a place where we might stay?” James asked him.
Peter shook his head. “I always sleep aboard,” he told them. “Ye could ask the minister of the Ingram Street Church. Folk call it the Gaelic Chapel for the Highlanders. The minister is Mr McLaren. He might be able to advise ye.”
“We’ll go to him. How do we reach Ingram Street?”
“Go up Jamaica Street there,” Peter Mathieson pointed, “then turn right, along Argyll Street and ask again. I’m no’ just sure o’ the streets masel.”
They shouldered their burdens and set off.
The amount and speed of the traffic in Argyll Street shocked them to bewilderment as they stood on the causeway and watched horses, carts, chaises, coaches, sedan chairs with runners to carry them, race up and down the street. The shouts of the riders and drivers, the clatter of hoofs on the cobble stones, the crack of whips, sounded deafening to their unaccustomed ears.
“I canna believe it! Where can all these people be hurrying and scurrying?” Kate asked James. “Which way do we go now?”
He shook his head and turned to ask a small poorly-dressed man who was standing idly on the causeway.” Which way do we take to Ingram Street, please?”
The small man looked at them with foxy curiosity. “Ye crossthe road and go up Queen Street there. That’ll bring ye to Ingram Street. Strangers here, are ye?”
“We are indeed,” James replied.
“Frae the Highlands?”
“Aye, we’ve just stepped off the boat from Stornoway,” James replied with the open innocence of a country man.
The small man eyed them. “Have ye ony place to go?”
James shook his head. “I was going to the minister of the Ingram Street Church to ask his advice.”
“I doubt if ye’ll find him at his hame the day,” the small man said quickly. “This is the day the ministers go out visiting their congregations. But maybe I could put ye i’ the way o’ finding a place.”
“That would be right civil of you, sir,” James said gratefully. The sky was overcast and he felt he must find some shelter before the threatened rain soaked them and their blankets and packs.
“It all depends what ye want. Would ye be thinking o’ a single end?” the man enquired.
“A single end? What’s that?” asked Kate
“One room, mistress.” She hesitated. “We’ve always had two rooms before, but maybe we could make do with one at first.”
“Aye, it would give us time to look round and – and get work, James agreed.
“Work’s a bit difficult to come by, except for bairns,” the man told him, “but maybe ye’ve got a bit money saved?”
James nodded.
“Aye, weel, then,” the small man said briskly, looking rather pleased, “if ye’ll mak’ do wi’ one room, I think I know just the place for ye. It’s lucky for ye the wife’s father died and was buried twa days syne, and the wife’s mother is moving in wi’ us. She’d speak to her landlord for ye to have her room,” he added glibly.
“Would she, do you think?” James asked.
“Aye, but mind now, it’s awfu’ difficult to get a room i’ Glasgow.There’s a wheen folk after places to live in, especially since so many o’ the Irish came over to work in the cotton mills. They’ll pay onything to get a roof over their heads. Why, I ken one cellar, a
cellar
, mark, now, where there are eight folk living, two to each corner!”
James and Kate looked at each other in consternation. This was not what they had expected of the great city.
“Oh, I wouldna like that! We’ve always lived decently,” Kate exclaimed.
“I’m sure ye have, mistress, I’m sure ye have. That’s why I’m telling ye
At last the
Catriona
was brought alongside the quay at the Broomielaw. James, Kate and the two children collected their bundles and said farewell to Peter Mathieson.
“Have ye any idea of a place where we might stay?” James asked him.
Peter shook his head. “I always sleep aboard,” he told them. “Ye could ask the minister of the Ingram Street Church. Folk call it the Gaelic Chapel for the Highlanders. The minister is Mr McLaren. He might be able to advise ye.”
“We’ll go to him. How do we reach Ingram Street?”
“Go up Jamaica Street there,” Peter Mathieson pointed, “then turn right, along Argyll Street and ask again. I’m no’ just sure o’ the streets masel.”
They shouldered their burdens and set off.
The amount and speed of the traffic in Argyll Street shocked them to bewilderment as they stood on the causeway and watched horses, carts, chaises, coaches, sedan chairs with runners to carry them, race up and down the street. The shouts of the riders and drivers, the clatter of hoofs on the cobble stones, the crack of whips, sounded deafening to their unaccustomed ears.
“I canna believe it! Where can all these people be hurrying and scurrying?” Kate asked James. “Which way do we go now?”
He shook his head and turned to ask a small poorly-dressed man who was standing idly on the causeway.” Which way do we take to Ingram Street, please?”
The small man looked at them with foxy curiosity. “Ye crossthe road and go up Queen Street there. That’ll bring ye to Ingram Street. Strangers here, are ye?”
“We are indeed,” James replied.
“Frae the Highlands?”
“Aye, we’ve just stepped off the boat from Stornoway,” James replied with the open innocence of a country man.
The small man eyed them. “Have ye ony place to go?”
James shook his head. “I was going to the minister of the Ingram Street Church to ask his advice.”
“I doubt if ye’ll find him at his hame the day,” the small man said quickly. “This is the day the ministers go out visiting their congregations. But maybe I could put ye i’ the way o’ finding a place.”
“That would be right civil of you, sir,” James said gratefully. The sky was overcast and he felt he must find some shelter before the threatened rain soaked them and their blankets and packs.
“It all depends what ye want. Would ye be thinking o’ a single end?” the man enquired.
“A single end? What’s that?” asked Kate
“One room, mistress.” She hesitated. “We’ve always had two rooms before, but maybe we could make do with one at first.”
“Aye, it would give us time to look round and – and get work, James agreed.
“Work’s a bit difficult to come by, except for bairns,” the man told him, “but maybe ye’ve got a bit money saved?”
James nodded.
“Aye, weel, then,” the small man said briskly, looking rather pleased, “if ye’ll mak’ do wi’ one room, I think I know just the place for ye. It’s lucky for ye the wife’s father died and was buried twa days syne, and the wife’s mother is moving in wi’ us. She’d speak to her landlord for ye to have her room,” he added glibly.
“Would she, do you think?” James asked.
“Aye, but mind now, it’s awfu’ difficult to get a room i’ Glasgow.There’s a wheen folk after places to live in, especially since so many o’ the Irish came over to work in the cotton mills. They’ll pay onything to get a roof over their heads. Why, I ken one cellar, a
cellar
, mark, now, where there are eight folk living, two to each corner!”
James and Kate looked at each other in consternation. This was not what they had expected of the great city.
“Oh, I wouldna like that! We’ve always lived decently,” Kate exclaimed.
“I’m sure ye have, mistress, I’m sure ye have. That’s why I’m telling ye
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