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"Passing to the year 1838, we find that a member of the House of Commons (Mr. Gillon) brought some very grave
charges against the conduct of the Ayrshire Yeomanry Cavalry.
It appears that a detachment of the 3d troop, under Captain
Hunter, had been ordered to Kilwinning on the occasion of the county election on 7th August 1837, for the purpose of protecting the poll and preserving the public peace.
Mr. Gillon, in his place in Parliament, asserted that the Yeomanry galloped
into the town with drawn swords, to the great terror of her Majesty's subjects, and that they acted as regular canvassers
for the Tories.
These charges, which were devoid of the smallest particle of truth, were evidently concocted for the
purpose of furnishing a little miserable political capital, and were promptly dropped when they had served their purpose.
Had any vindication of the conduct of the Yeomanry been required, it would have been furnished by the following
letter from Captain Hunter, which appeared in the Standard:
Hunterston, April 6th, 1838.
" Sir,
I regret to find by to-day's paper that the motion of Mr. Gillon, regarding the conduct of the Ayrshire Yeomanry
during the late elections, has been withdrawn, as I know that an inquiry would have shown that the information communicated
regarding them was in every respect incorrect. Being the officer who commanded the detachment called into Kilwinning on the
occasion alluded to, I beg to state, in the most express manner, that every one of the allegations against the conduct of the men is
completely contrary to fact, and, in contradiction, I have to state the following, which I pledge myself as an officer and a gentleman
to be correct, in so far as I know or had an opportunity of judging.
The corps was not called out the day previous, as stated, but assembled on the morning of the day of election, and very early,
that the men might not pass through any of the polling stations after the poll had commenced, and only one troop was out.
About
two o'clock P.M. of that day I received an order from the Sheriff to bring my detachment into Kilwinning in aid of the civil -power,
and we did not enter it at a gallop as alleged. We would have been ashamed to have done anything so ridiculous ; on the contrary, we came in at an ordinary trot, and in turning up a narrow street near to the polling station, I caused my men to walk, as
there was a great crowd there.
I understood that the reason of our being called in was that there had been considerable rioting,
and that many of the Conservative voters had been grossly insulted by being spat upon and otherwise abused, and I know that Lord
Kelburne had been attacked by the mob, had part of his clothes torn off, and with difficulty escaped.
We remained drawn up
before the polling booth about an hour and a half, and till the polling was over, when we were ordered to withdraw from the
town. During this time no man moved from the ranks.
I may mention, in case it should be meant as an allegation, that we had
our swords drawn on entering the town; but I never heard that this was considered any ground of complaint against cavalry when on
duty. Shortly after arriving, however, I was told that it would please the people if I would cause the men to return their swords, and if I
would do so they promised to be quiet.
I accordingly did so, and we received three cheers.
I state this merely to show that there
was no desire on our part to irritate. In withdrawing from the town, and as soon as our backs were turned, we were assailed by a
complete shower of stones, which was continued all the way out.
I did not, however, allow any of the men to turn; I considered it would
have served little purpose to have done so.
If we had rode over or wounded any of the mob, it would have afforded to their instigators
a good handle of complaint against the yeomanry.
In returning, our swords were not drawn, and, as it was, no individual was
attacked or in any way injured by our men ; on the contrary, several of the yeomanry were a good deal hurt and cut by the
stones. I shall only further remark, that nothing is so rigidly excluded from our corps as politics.
We have men of all parties.
One of the officers with me in Kilwinning was the seconder of the Liberal candidate on the nomination day, and several of the men
had voted for him that morning.
It is said that the yeomanry should not have been called out at all. That may be the case or not, but it was no matter of ours.
We were ordered out by the civil authorities, and by them a part was called into Kilwinning, and I assert that no men could have
behaved with more forbearance than those whom I had the honour to command on that occasion; and in behaving thus they only
acted as the men of this regiment have always hitherto done, and will, I feel confident, always continue to do.
The detachment consisted of thirty-four men and three officers.
Your obedient servant, Robert Hunter
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Atomic Power Station! Oh, may they be forgiven.
For surely Hunterston was a “little bit of Heaven.”
I wander o’er its acres, each step a memory,
And slip back to my childhood and well-loved places see.
The Avenue with trees entwined,
The rhododendrons where birds’ nests I’d find,
The Big Wood where squirrels played
Near the Peacock’s Rest,
The rustic paraphernalia and Twelve Apostles, the tree I loved the best.
The Look-out with its lovers’ seats,
And redcurrant bush with perfume sweet,
The wee gate that led on to the shore,
The pier and the wee boat, that sails no more.
The Perch that strongly stands against so many tides,
The fan-shell bed, our treasure chest, close by its side.
A tree log bleached by sun and sea was the counter of a shop,
With berries, leaves and chucky stanes trade could never flop.
Then Pat M’Kie’s old cottage with fuschia adorned,
The rocks that grew in stature till The Three Sisters were born.
Bank End Wood so eerie with primrose in crevasse high,
The Wishing Well and Devil’s Cave sheltering tramps from stormy sky.
Then up to Goldenberry Hill, thro’ heather and bracken fronds,
What a view, one pauses, is this the Great Beyond?
Such majesty of land and sea, Nature’s carpet of blended hues
This will I see wherever I be, a picture I cannot lose,
Arran, Cumbraes, Cock-ma-lane, Toward and Argyll,
Turn slightly round, it’s the Head o’ Ayr and Ailsa Craig, the sentry isle.
Along the road and over the stile, and up Campbeltown Hill,
A seat like a throne, formed by stone, Where we “pretended” to our fill,
Such happy hours picking wild flowers, And brambles where burns trill.
At Easter-time we rolled eggs down just behind the farm,
Such childish glee, such simplicity, so immune from harm.
The rich farming land, the harvest, the potato sales, trout-fishing, too,
The Shaw Wood with wild hyacinths, foxgloves and Scotland’s bells of blue.
Now to the Mains where I was born, the ivy-covered tower,
Cream roses climbing up the wall and jasmine-scented bower.
The stables and harness-room where I played on rainy days,
The tiny pony with baskets that you rode in with a sway.
The Ladies’ Walk, snow-dropped lined, led to the garden door,
Where once a year we were invited to eat gooseberries galore.
A field of Highland cattle, and hollow tree with inside seat,
The lawn where strawberries and cream was an annual summer treat.
The swing fixed on branch so high satisfied my ambition to “reach the sky.”
The granary, with apple shelves, held an aroma the East could ne’er excel.
The Big House, whose friendly doors opened to me a magic store.
The nursery where I took tea with children who came on holiday.
A toy cupboard like Aladdin’s Cave – I have saucers now from a tiny set they gave.
The kitchen with the lids so bright, the row of bells above the door,
The range that was a cheery sight,
and the shelves of jams in store.
I sat many times at the old Cook’s knees and
watched her lovely hands fashion lace with beaded pins, as if by a fairy wand.
Then thro’ corridors narrow and down in cellar grim,
I followed my dad while he kept the boilers trim.
The Christmas party, awaited with childish delight,
Wherein a darkened room maids set heaps of raisins alight.
A bonfire of blue flame, the little ones did fear,
But the servants saw that everyone got a share.
The Workers’ Party in the Hall, with tea, buns and cake,
The concert after, when parents tried to merry make.
What matter if the pattern was similar year by year,
These folk were the salt of the earth and brimful of good cheer.
Then the curtains opened and the Christmas tree was seen,
One year I was a fairy and stood beside the queen.
Santa was in the rowboat brought up from the shore,
Only kind hearts could such love outpour.
The orchard at Gull’s Walk where we shook down apples and pears.
Sometimes the Castle was opened and I climbed the spiral stairs.
The Hollows and Fences Farms where on hayricks oft I lay,
And went for milk, but drank it thro’ a straw on my homeward way.
Childish memories, perhaps, no one can take away.
And when I hear the city cry, “Daffs going cheap to-day”,
I stand in Hunterston Woods, a florists’ at my feet,
Daffs, crocus, snowdrops mixed with pine needles sweet.
I could write on forever my birthplace to extol, not just places, but dear ones I recall.
Where have they all been scattered, some passed across,
Do the others spare a thought for an Estate which now seems lost?
Science marches on with atomic power driven, but why, oh why,
choose this little bit of Heaven?
Manchester: an Exile
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Old Bailey Proceedings (www.oldbaileyonline.org),
Ordinary of Newgate's Account,
27 June 1726 .
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THE Ordinary of NEWGATE his ACCOUNT of the Behaviour, Confessions, and Last Dying Words of the Malefactors that were Executed at Tyburn, on Fryday the 28th of July, 1721.
AT the Sessions begun July 12, at Justice Hall in the Old-Bayly, were convicted of Capital Crimes, seven Men and five Women; 6 whereof obtaining His Majesty's Reprieve, the others were order'd for Execution.
July 28, viz. J. Winshipp; R. Hunter ; G. Post; W. Goslin; M. Clark, and M. Inman.
The Sunday preceeding their Execution, I preach'd to Them, and to Others present, from the following Words,
If a Man say, I love God, and hateth his Brother, He is a Lyer; For he who loveth not his Brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen? (1 Joh. 4. 20.)
In speaking to the Words, We endeavour'd to explain,...............
4. ROBERT HUNTER was condemn'd also, for taking the aforesaid Goods, with George Post. He was also about 24 Years of Age, Born in Ireland. He had little Thoughts of Dying, having some Assurances to the contrary; yet I cannot say that he at all neglected his Duty on that account, being serious and devout at the Prayers, and attending to the Word of God, when explain'd. But both he and his Acquaintance exclaim'd against one Strickland, as their Ruin.
Before he dy'd, when he receiv'd the Holy Sacrament, he was very earnest and fervent in his Devotions.
The Account of the Prisoners at their Execution.
Robert Hunter, and George Post, gave me each of them a Paper, importing that they were both Protestants, and Born of honest Parents; that this was the first ill Thing they committed of this Kind, but ill Women had led them aside; that they were glad they were from their Friends; hoped all the World would forgive them, and pray for them.
[ the terrible crime they committed: indicted for feloniously stealing a Silver Tankard, 2 Silver Cups, 1 Silver Salver, 2 Silver Castors, a Silver Salts, 7 Silver Spoons, a Silver Pepper Box, a Gold Watch and Chain, a Seal, &c. to the value of 60 l. a Worsted Purse, and 6 l. in Money on the 25th of May last. ] |
