The theatre was built of brick, somewhat similar to Mr M‘Givern’s at the top of Seagate. The character that I appeared in was Macbeth, Mrs Giles sustaining the character of Lady Macbeth on that occasion, which she performed admirably. The way that I was allowed to perform was in terms of the following agreement, which was entered into between Mr Giles and myself – that I had to give Mr Giles one pound in cash before the performance, which I considered rather hard, but as there was no help for it, I made known Mr Giles’s terms to my shopmates, who were hand-loom weavers in Seafield Works, Taylor’s Lane. No sooner than the terms were made known to them, than they entered heartily into the arrangement, and in a very short time they made up the pound by subscription, and with one accord declared they would go and see me perform the Thane of Fife, alias Macbeth. To see that the arrangement with Mr Giles was carried out to the letter, a deputation of two of my shopmates was appointed to wait upon him with the pound. Mr Giles received the deputation, and on receipt of the money cheerfully gave a written agreement certifying that he would allow me to perform Macbeth on the following night in his theatre. When the deputation came back with the news that Mr Giles had consented to allow me to make my debut on the following night, my shopmates cheered again and again, and the rapping of the lays I will never forget as long as I live. When the great night arrived my shopmates were in high glee with the hope of getting a Shakespearian treat from your humble servant. And I can assure you, without boasting, they were not disappointed in their anticipations, my shopmates having secured seats before the general public were admitted. It would be impossible for me to describe the scene in Lindsay Street, as it was crowded from head to foot, all being eager to witness my first appearance as an exponent of Shakespeare. When I appeared on the stage I was received with a perfect storm of applause, but when I exclaimed, “Command, they make a halt upon the heath,” the applause was deafening, and was continued during the entire evening, especially so in the combat scene. The house was crowded during each of the three performances on that ever-memorable night, which can never be forgot by me or my shopmates, and even entire strangers included. At the end of each performance I was called before the curtain, and received plaudit after plaudit of applause in recognition of my able impersonation of Macbeth.

What a sight it was to see such a mass of people struggling to gain admission! hundreds failing to do so, and in the struggle numbers were trampled under foot, one man having lost one of his shoes in the scrimmage; others were carried bodily into the theatre along with the press. So much then for the true account of my first appearance on any stage.

The most startling incident in my life was the time I discovered myself to be a poet, which was in the year 1877. During the Dundee holiday week, in the bright and balmy month of June, when trees and flowers were in full bloom, while lonely and sad in my room, I sat thinking about the thousands of people who were away by rail and steamboat, perhaps to the land of Burns, or poor ill-treated Tannahill, or to gaze upon the Trossachs in Rob Roy’s country, or elsewhere wherever their minds led them. Well, while pondering so, I seemed to feel as it were a strange kind of feeling stealing over me, and remained so for about five minutes. A flame, as Lord Byron has said, seemed to kindle up my entire frame, along with a strong desire to write poetry; and I felt so happy, so happy, that I was inclined to dance, then I began to pace backwards and forwards in the room, trying to shake off all thought of writing poetry; but the more I tried, the more strong the sensation became. It was so strong, I imagined that a pen was in my right hand, and a voice crying, “Write! Write!” So I said to myself, ruminating, let me see; what shall I write? then all at once a bright idea struck me to write about my best friend, the late Reverend George Gilfillan; in my opinion I could not have chosen a better subject, therefore I immediately found paper, pen, and ink, and set myself down to immortalize the great preacher, poet, and orator. These are the lines I penned, which I dropped into the box of the Weekly News office surreptitiously, which appeared in that paper as follows:–

“W. M‘G., Dundee, who modestly seeks to hide his light under a bushel, has surreptitiously dropped into our letter-box an address to the Rev. George Gilfillan. Here is a sample of this worthy’s powers of versification;–

‘Rev. George Gilfillan of Dundee,

There is none can you excel;

You have boldly rejected the Confession of Faith,

And defended your cause right well.

‘The first time I heard him speak,

’Twas in the Kinnaird Hall,

Lecturing on the Garibaldi movement,

As loud as he could bawl.

‘He is a liberal gentleman

To the poor while in distress,

And for his kindness unto them

The Lord will surely bless.

‘My blessing on his noble form,

And on his lofty head,

May all good angels guard him while living,

And hereafter when he’s dead.’ ”

P.S. – This is the first poem that I composed while under the divine inspiration, and is true, as I have to give an account to God at the day of judgment for all the sins I have committed.

With regard to my far-famed Balmoral journey, I will relate it truly as it happened. ’Twas on a bright summer morning in the month of July 1878, I left Dundee en route for Balmoral, the Highland home of Her Most Gracious Majesty, Queen of Great Britain and Empress of India. Well, my first stage for the day was the village of Alyth. When I arrived there I felt weary, footsore, and longed for rest and lodgings for the night. I made enquiry for a good lodging-house, and found one very easily, and for the lodging I paid fourpence to the landlady before I sat down, and when I had rested my weary limbs for about five minutes I rose and went out to purchase some provisions for my supper and breakfast – some bread, tea, sugar, and butter – and when I had purchased the provisions I returned to my lodgings and prepared for myself a hearty tea, which I relished very much, I can assure you, for I felt very hungry, not having tasted food of any kind by the way during my travel, which caused me to have a ravenous appetite, and to devour it greedily; and after supper I asked the landlady to oblige me with some water to wash my feet, which she immediately and most cheerfully supplied me with; then I washed my sore blistered feet and went to bed, and was soon in the arms of Morpheus, the god of sleep. Soundly I slept all the night, until the landlady awoke me in the morning, telling me it was a fine sunshiny morning. Well, of course I arose, and donned my clothes, and I felt quite refreshed after the refreshing sleep I had got during the night; then I gave myself a good washing, and afterwards prepared my breakfast, which I devoured quickly, and left the lodging-house, bidding the landlady good morning, and thanking her for her kindness; then I wended my way the next day as far as the Spittal o’ Glenshee –

Which is the most dismal to see –

With its bleak, rocky mountains,

And clear, crystal fountains,

With their misty foam;

And thousands of sheep there together do roam,

Browsing on the barren pasture, blasted-like to see,

Stunted in heather, and scarcely a tree;

And black-looking cairns of stones, as monuments to show,

Where people have been found that were lost in the snow –

Which is cheerless to behold –

And as the traveller gazes thereon it makes his blood run cold,

And almost makes him weep,

For a human voice is seldom heard there,

Save the shepherd crying to his sheep.

The chains of mountains there is most frightful to see,

Along each side of the Spittal o’ Glenshee;

But the Castleton o’ Braemar is most beautiful to see,

With its handsome whitewashed houses, and romantic scenery,

And bleak-looking mountains, capped with snow,

Where the deer and the roe do ramble to and fro,

Near by the dark river Dee,

Which is most beautiful to see.

And Balmoral Castle is magnificent to be seen,

Highland home of the Empress of India, Great Britain’s Queen,

With its beautiful pine forests, near by the river Dee,

Where the rabbits and hares do sport in mirthful glee,

And the deer and the roe together do play

All the live long summer day,

In sweet harmony together,

While munching the blooming heather,

With their hearts full of glee,

In the green woods of Balmoral, near by the river Dee.

And, my dear friends, when I arrived at the Spittal o’ Glenshee, a dreadful thunder-storm came on, and the vivid flashes of the forked lightning were fearful to behold, and the rain poured down in torrents until I was drenched to the skin, and longed to be under cover from the pitiless rain.