Autobiographical Notes. 163 



Part I. 



The following brief narrative, often urgently requested by 

 my daughters, may eventually not prove uninteresting to my own 

 children, or descendants; at all events had such a document been 

 handed down by one of my progenitors it would have been most 

 gratifying to me. 



I was born at Bush (a hamlet obliterated to make way for 

 a public road, about 300 yards south of the manse), parish of 

 Girthon, half a mile from Gatehouse-of-FIeet, in the Stewartry 

 of Kirkcudbright. 



Every Scotsman, sa}s Sir Walter Scott, has his pedigree, 

 and, though my progenitors were humble but creditable people, 

 I have a species of claim to some degree of antiquity. From 

 vague tradition my family on both sides is venerable ; but, setting 

 tradition aside, I can count back for at least two centuries. My 

 paternal great-grandfather, John Murray, a small farmer, died 

 at Killigown, parish of Anwoth, in 1760, aged 96, so that he was 

 born within four years of the Restoration ; and I remember one 

 of his daughters, Sarah, a spinster who attained to a venerable 

 age, four score at least. She visited my father about the year 

 1800, and was hale and strong. This John Murray, my great- 

 grandfather, was a crofter, and lived as a small agriculturist. 

 None of my progenitors were tradesmen ; they all rented land. 

 My father and grandfather were in a similar condition, only they 

 had some charge on the estate of the Murrays of Broughton, an 

 old family who were the sole proprietors, as they still are, of 

 the entire parish of Girthon. My father, William Murray, for 

 example, was employed partly as wood forester and in other 

 capacities, while he possessed land and had two cows. He had 

 little or no capital, but he was in comfortable circumstances. He 

 displayed a tablecloth on Sundays, and had a tea breakfast on 

 that day, a thing then unconmaon, and what was more uncommon 

 in his rank of life, though his tablespoons were of horn, he had 

 silver teaspoons. My father lived from 1790 till his death in a 

 neat cottage built for himself in the village or clachan at Old 

 Kirk of Girthon. His money wages were extremely small, about 

 ;£6 a year, but he paid no rent for his cottage, to which a garden 

 of nearly half an acre was attached. He had, besides, the privi- 

 lege of casting as many peats as he required in the Crawhill moss, 



