My Boyhood and Youth 



climb highest on the crumbling peaks and 

 crags, and took chances that no cautious moun- 

 taineer would try. That I did not fall and 

 finish my rock-scrambling in those adventurous 

 boyhood days seems now a reasonable wonder. 



Among our best games were running, jump- 

 ing, wrestling, and scrambling. I was so proud 

 of my skill as a climber that when I first heard 

 of hell from a servant girl who loved to tell its 

 horrors and warn us that if we did anything 

 wrong we would be cast into it, I always in- 

 sisted that I could climb out of it. I imagined 

 it was only a sooty pit with stone walls like 

 those of the castle, and I felt sure there must be 

 chinks and cracks in the masonry for fingers 

 and toes. Anyhow the terrors of the horrible 

 place seldom lasted long beyond the telling; 

 for natural faith casts out fear. 



Most of the Scotch children believe in ghosts, 

 and some under peculiar conditions continue 

 to believe in them all through life. Grave 

 ghosts are deemed particularly dangerous, and 

 many of the most credulous will go far out of 

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