Roamin’ in the gloamin’ (1928)

60 ROAMIN' IN THE GLOAMIN' Many, many years later I was performing at the Odeon Theatre, St. Louis, and immediately I danced on to the platform to sing "Tobermory," a terrific voice cried out, "Come on, Harry, let them see what the wee collier laddie frae Hamilton can dae! Harry, ma cock — up an' at them!" I couldn't see the speaker. But I could never mistake the voice. "A' richt, Rab," I shouted up to the gallery, "I'll dae ma best. See you round in the dressing-room after the show !" Of course it proved to be my old gaffer Rab, settled down and doin' well, like so many of his compatriots, in a great American city. Whenever he entered my room, he rushed at me, lifted me as if I had been a baby and shed tears of delight over our romantic meeting after twenty years ! On recovering his composure he solemnly presented me with a pair of "galloses" — braces! Poor Rab! He died some years ago. The mining industry in Lanarkshire has been almost completely transformed since I worked in the pits there. Coalcutting machinery has done away with what might be called the individual touch in the industry. It is quite true that we had Unions in the early days. I was a member of the Lanarkshire Union of Miners, a strong supporter of men like Bob Smillie and Keir Hardie. But politics were not mixed up in industrial affairs as they are today. Besides, there seemed to be a far greater measure of freedom for a man to work as hard as he liked and as long as he liked for the benefit of his own pay-roll and the increased comfort of himself and his family which the fat pay-roll represented. With few exceptions every man in the pit in these days was a hard, conscientious worker. He worked hard and he played hard. I would not go the length of saying that we were all contented with our lowly lot, but we seemed to believe in the old Scriptural injunction that only by the sweat