This is another extract from one of the short-lived magazines that a certain class of Glaswegians, and denizens of the West of Scotland in general, enjoyed in pre-Victorian times. It comes from “The Day” of 1832, and the author of the piece is the journalist John Donald Carrick, contributor to, and editor of, “Whistlebinkie,” and another favourite of mine, “The Laird of Logan.” Carrick died in 1837.

What interested me in this family’s correspondence was the “extravagant” use of the mail on the one instance and, how this could be subverted by using the “Ticket” arrangement with the steam-boat. The remainder of the letters is a bit of gossip.

Letters from the coast; or the Bam family at sea-bathing quarters. No. I.

Miss Lucretia Virginia Bam to Miss Betsey.

Rothesay, 11th June.

Dear Bet,—I am afraid by this time you will be thinking I have forgot the promise I made you of sending you an account of our trip here, and how we got fixed in our new lodgings; but really, my dear girl, I have been in such a bustle since I came, about one thing or another, that I may truly say I have not, till this moment, had a minute to spare; what, with bathing and walking, and riding and sailing, while, to crown all, cousin Lucy, has, for these few days past, been complaining of a pain in the breast; and, between ourselves, I do not like to hear of young ladies of her age having such ailments. The cunning little minx is very shy of my enquiries about her case; for do you know, I think it infectious and that she caught it from some of the young officers that used to visit us while in town? but I may be wrong, so as it is a tender subject, you will please say nothing about it to any one at present: for if auntie Pyet hears of it, she will be saying we have all got the same complaint, and what a shocking thing that would be. But what do you think of Bob? I must tell you about Bob. You know he is very fond of a shine, so the other day he got a party made up to go to Invarary, and though I kept myself perfectly disengaged, he never once mentioned the subject to me. Now, you know how often he has been with us at tea, which he might have very easily cleared off by a kind invite. But it does not matter. Quadrille nights will be on by and bye, and I will then screw a pin in master Bobby’s nose. I think he will look rather queer, Miss Betsey, when he gets the go-bye from us on our great occasions. The wretch justly deserves it, from the manner in which he spends his time; for he is either drinking cold punch, and smoking cigars in M‘Corklndale’s, or beauing aboot a great monster in blue, who happened to make one of the party in the late pleasure trip—pleasure trip, indeed! It’s a trip that has set all the people here alaughing at them, for the gentlemen got tipsy, and the ladies could get nothing to eat; besides, the number of tales that are going about, makes me quite happy that I was not among them. What do you think of a Rothesay Doctor, dressed in a complete suit of tartan, with kilt and short hose, being of the party? (I am sure you will blush when yon read of it, as much as I am doing just now while writing it;) and a tall carroty-headed youth, entertaining the company by imitating the noise of a hog? Really, I wonder Mr. Denoon does not speak to such people. Neither was this all: when they got to Inverary, they had every one of them to be carried ashore. Now figure the elegant and accomplish Miss P–, (she was of the party too) a calefourchon, on the back, of a man. I declare I almost fainted when I heard of it. I hope, my dear Bet, you will keep this circumstance from the ear of a certain gentleman, as much as you ever can, for I have known of much smaller Improprieties on the part of a lady, being the means of breaking off a connection. By the bye, the lady that we met last Christmas in your aunt’s; her, you know, whose singing made such an impression on your cousin Ned, has taken the garret above us, and evening and morning and, indeed, at all hours of the day, she keeps singing and gingling away at an old ricketty piano, in such a manner, that we really can’t hear ourselves speak. We call her “the lady of many airs;” and I can assure you, it is a nick-name she very well deserves, in more respects than one; for when she appears on the street, she is so gaudily dressed, and so highly civited or perfumed, call it which you will, that she puts one in mind of a tulip which has just been dipped in essence of roses; and then she affects to be so graceful in all her motions that we can not help thinking she has come down here on a spec, (as that wretch Bob says,) because she found herself on her last legs in Glasgow. You will excuse legs, my dear Bet. You know it is only with a bosom friend, like you, I would take the liberty of using the term, so don’t think me more vulgar than when you last saw me. Mr. and Mrs.– are down here at present enjoying the fortune that was lately left them. What a deal of fuss some people make about trifles; but, my dear Bet, how you would laugh, if you only saw them at what seems to be their enjoyment: their whole time is spent looking over the quay, and seeing the crabs fight. Now, as it’s well known, they have plenty of crab-fighting at home. I cannot see what advantage they can have in such spectacles here, unless they are taking hints that may be useful when they open the winter champagne in town. Good gracious! it is enough to make any young lady’s hair stand on end, to think what a life some married folks lead. Oh, Bet, dearest Bet, what is to become of us? Write me a long letter on the subject, and say what you think of Bob. Is he not a shocking monster? But stop, I see him coming up the street just now. I wont speak tohim, however, till I hear from you. I am sure I shan’t: so write me in all haste, and believe me, dearest, your ever faithful and affectionate, Lucretia Virginia Bam.

Rothesay with a Castle steamer in the Bay (Swan)

Letters from the coast; or the Bam family at sea bathing quarters. No. II.

Mrs. Bam to Miss Bam

Rothesay, 25th June 1832

Dear Susan,—I got your letter by post, and I now write you by the steam boat to teach you a little economy. It was, certainly, thoughtless of you to be incurring the expense of postage, when you knew Papa had engaged with the boat people to take our luggage and parcels gratis, and all that you had to do was just to put a bit of brown paper about your letter and tie it over with a thread. Though our money is, perhaps, as plenty as that of some of our neighbours I could name, yet we need not, for all that, be throwing it away at cocks—beside, my dear, the plan I have mentioned is quite genteel and done every day by the first families here. I would not have wrote you so soon, but I wish you down on Saturday at furthest, as I want your advice about Lucretia. Lucretia, you must know, my dear, has made an impression, and, as the gentleman, though pretty well in years and not much indebted to his looks, is able to make a handsome settlement, I expect you will either persuade her to have him, or hear what he has to say yourself. Papa and I thought every thing was in a fair way; but yesterday morning she came in to breakfast hanging her head like a water-lily, and began whining about feelings and all that sort of nonsense. Now, unless it be that foolish affection for Bob —— I don’t know what can be the matter with the girl. It’s excessively foolish to loose a good match for a fidgety creature like him who can do nothing but play the fiddle and dance quadrilles, and, you know, though younger than you, yet Looky has no time to spare, so make up your mind, my dear, as to your conduct, before you come down. Our neighbour Miss—— played her card very well, and the old knave who lately came here, bump’d from ——, with the large fortune, him, you know, whom so many ladies have been setting their caps at. It would seem, the free and easy elegance of her morning dress had attracted the old gentleman’s notice, and the sly one observed that the fish was playing about the hook, but she, poor innocent, never appeared to be aware of the circumstance till the question was popped, and then when he said snip, she said snap, and a good snap it has been, for I understand she will, at least, have about five hundred a year at his death. So you see, Miss Bam, what early rising comes to, and what young ladles loose who lie snoring in bed, for I assure you it has been a morning affair altogether. For ourselves we have been pretty well in health, but we have been completely confined to the house with rain—except in the evenings when it chanced to be fair—not a lady was to be seen save old Mrs. Guddle who went wandering about like a restless duck, from house to house to complain of the state of her bones and gather the sympathy of her friends as a cure for her rheumatism. But the weather is now getting better, and our friend Dr. Guzzle says, the glass is getting up, but you will you will say, perhaps; it is always up with him—so it used, my dear, but Pa tells me he has been living very sober since be came to Rothesay.—Wishing you a pleasant sail down, I remain, dear Susan, your affectionate Ma, Dorcus Bam.