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THE FOLLOWING TEXT WAS WRITTEN BY DOROTHY CHEYNE HERSELF IN 1950

When I think about my childhood, and realize how much seventy years and three wars have changed everything, I wonder if my nieces and their children would like to know about the "days before yesterday", so different from today.

The first thing I remember is our house, 13 Rutland Street, where my Father and Mother started their married life in 1876. I was born there in 1880, and my brother Harry in 1882. It is impossible now to realize how delightful that house in Rutland Street was. There was no "house opposite", it face south. The station was where the trains start from now. Instead of the present station and the hotel, there was a big grass plot with a road round it. The view we had was lovely; we sas St. John's St. Cuthbert's the Castle, Castle Terrace, the Lothian Road. We sat in the nursery window and watched the lights go in the Castle and up the Lothian Road - lit one by one by "lamplighthers" - so much more romantic than "switching-on". It was always exicitng when troops came or went away - we cas everything that went on. We always used the Caledonian Station - "our station" - porters came and wheeled the luggage across - and now there isn't a "through carriage" from "out station" to London! i remember old men who stood at the corner of rutland Street ready to take messages anywhere - the last remnats of the famous Edinburgh "caddies"? My Mother used to tell us how at one of their "engagement dinners" a gentleman said, when the talk was of house property, "I wonder who the fool is who has given £1,000 for that house in Rutland Street". Mother, of course, remained silent - not so Father, who said, "Sir, I am that fool." "No.13" was well worth £1,000. Ruskin wrote of "the east end of Rutland Street, that perfect little bit of domestic architecture". Dr. Brown, of "Rab and his Friends", lived in Rutland Street, and before we left it had become a little "Harley Street". Old Dr. Peddie was many years No.15 and died well over ninety. We had Dr. Jamieson, Dr. HaigFerguson and many others.

No. 13 was always full of cousins and uncles and aunts. We had so many relations quite close to us. Our grannie in Rutland Square, the other in Manor Place and uncles in Palmerston Place, Chester Street and Charlotte Square. All most hospitable houses. Relations from Shetland and London came to stay, and we had crowds of friends who came to our parties and had parties of their own. When in 1888 we went to school, I to St. George's, very proud, on the first day - and Harry to the Academy, we went among children we knew already.

No children ever had a happier home. Our Father was the best tempered man I ever knew, and was popular with everyone. Our Mother was always being kind to some "lame dog" - both were splendid friends to us all their lives. I think one reason for the great happiness at No. 13 was the fact, often told to me by old relatives, that the Cheynes were brought up to put the girls first and the Chienes were brought up to put the boys first, so when Mother and Father married, they naturally put each other first!

Our parents had a great sense of humor, Mother was that peculiarly Scottish thing, a "character" and very witty. She told stories splendidly, often against herself. We had a book of her stories, but she found it and destroyed it, to our grief. I could never convey in writing her inimitable way of telling a story. One she liked was rather unkind to me, probably true. Mother was ill, and in bed, and she declared I came in, aged six and stood at the foot of her bed and said "If you are going to die, you might tell me, I hate being kept in the dark." When she was recovering form this, she heard a noise on the stair and Harry, aged four, staggered in, grasping the port decanter - he had take it out of the diningroom sideboard. he said, "I think a glass of this would do you good". he had seen so many of the old people who came to see Mother at all hours treated to a "a glass of port". Another story we liked, which she said we made up: When a friend of Father's was in America, his wife died in Paris. Mother said, "Charles Ramsay should not have gone to America" and when Father said, "A man must leave something to Providence", her rejoinder was "Providence is all very well, but a man should look after his own wife".

They were many stories. Mother never wrote a cheque till after Father died. She said, "Harry I want some money", and a man came from the office with £100. She hated paying by cheque. She said to me "You just write cheques and you have no idea what you spend". She liked deposit receipts of £100 which she "kept in her wardrobe" and cashed one at a time. Once I remember she had not enough money to pay the butcher and i said. "Give him a cheque?" The answer was, "I am not going to have these men in the Bank knowing what I pay the butcher."

Mother was the soul of kindness, and Christmas is a very precious memory For days she seemed to be surrounded by piles of "black buns" and shortbread, and present of all sorts, which whe tied up into beautifully neat parcels. We were sent continually to the Post Office. On Christmas Eve the parcels were piled into a cab and we went with Mother to hand them in to all sorts of houses. We went after tea, in the dark, which added greatly to the thrill. Sometimes we went in to see the recipients, this took a long time, and we ended up at both Grannies. it was almost more delightful than getting our own presents next day. We kept up this custom. I went with her on this expedition on Christmas Eve, 1936. She died on January 10th, 1937.

The servants were wonderful. We had a nurse till I was about eight, and a cook and a tablemaid. After the nurse left we had a housemaid. When Mother and Father married, they were quite grand - the cook got £25 and the tablemaid £18 per annum. Looking back, nothing was any trouble. People came - often quite unexpectedly - to meals. Nothing seemed to be any trouble and everyone seemed happy. The servants stayed for years, and usually left to be married. my first tablemaid was the daughter of my first nurse. We had traditions of long and faithful service on both sides of the family. I knew both Mother's and Father's nurses. "Hudson", Father's nurse, died in my grandmother's house and is buried in my grandparents' grave. She was a dear little woman, and delighted us with a parrot she had. It danced on a teatray when she whisteld "Pop goes the weasel". She left us the first legacy we ever had. We spent it on a camera, our first camera.

"Old Kate" was Mother's nurse. She died in my Uncle George's house, aged 94, and was buried in my grandparent's grave - both these graves are in Warriston.

Long service goes on - our faithful cook is with us now, she came in 1906.

We both enjoyed our schools. I was lucky to be so close to St. George's, in melville Street in those early days. Our first Headmistress made us understand we were pioneers, and we counted it a tremendous honor that everyone of us was concerned in the success of St. George's.

Harry thought nothing of the walk to the Academy. There is a story of his return on the first day. When the tablemaid asked him how he had got on, he said "All right, but I never meant to go there." When she enquired where he had meant to go, he said, "To the office, with Father". He "went to the office" later on.

When we ere very small we used to go picnics in the Princes Street Gardens, and felt we were in the country. There never seemed to be any crowd in the Gardens. We loved climbing up the slope toward Ramsay Garden. Our parents "had a key" when they first married but the Gardens became public before my day - in 1877, I think.

Later on, old John Ord Mackenzie of Dolphinton, Father's partner in "Mackenzie & Kermark, W.S.", was so sorry for us, with no gardens of our own, he gave us a key to Moray Place Gds. I wonder if this was quite legal, when we did not live there? But nobody objected and we used that key for years and "played in the Gardens". We used to chaff Mother, we said she did not regard anyone as quite respectable unless they were descendants or relatives of boys and girls she had played with in the Gardens - in her case it was the Abercrombie Place Gardens. The Chienes lived in Northumberland Street when they were not at Lundie in Fife.

One of the many charms of Rutland Street was its proximity to the shops. It was like life in a village, we went to the shops "round the corner" and we were friends with them all. Vallences was a tremendous favourite. I wonder if there will ever again be "sugar mice"? These were pink or white - with black eyes and bits of thread for tails. They cost a farthing or four a penny. We often bought a halfpennyworth! All sorts of "sweeties" in memory seem much sweeter than any sweeties now - even Vallence's. "The Altert Bazaar" was there Liza's is now. It was a beautiful shop, kept by Miss Lothian - so tall and good- looking- and little Miss Fraser. There was a low chest of shallow drawers. There pulled out quite easily, ans were full of marvellous things - 1d. each. The pleasure of going to the Albert Bazaar was enourmous - no hurry, delightful assistants who let us gaze and choose at our leisure. We realized that the 1d., drawer was not grand but it was so varied - you never knew what you might find. There is a story that Harry had annoyed me and I said, "I don't know why they ever got you out of the 1d., drawer".

I was always sociable and ready to go anywhere at any time. harry was not very anxious to go to some party, and Mother said, "Dora wants to go". His rejoinder was, "If the sweep gave a party, Dora would go, and shw would take me.". Only the other day a friend said to me "Of course you would go anywhere". So Harry may have been right. It's great fun to go everywhere even now, at my advanced age.

Father was Treasurer of the Royal Company of Archers - the Queen's Bodyguard. We always went to see the Royal Company shoot in the Meadows and were very proud if Father won. I specially remember our delight when he won the Queen's Prize the year of the Diamond Jubilee, 1897. The R.C.A., were magnificent Bodyguard - many of them, like Father, over six feet tall. Sometimes, before a big dinner, the Treasurer went up to Archer's hall to see that every thing was ready, and he took me and I saw the pictures and the chandeliers and the wonderful silver. mother and Father's honeymoon was cut short as he had to come home in August, 1876 to attend the Queen when she unveiled the memorial to the Prince Consort in Charlotte Square. There were lady Archers too - my Aunt Margaret was Secretary for many years. I am a member now.

Some of the great occasions I remember were the wedding of the Duke and Duchess of York, afterwards King George V and Queen mary. The crowds in Princes Street were tremendous and the firewords from the Castle marvellous. I was the Proclamation of King Edward VII from a window in the High Street. such a long time since a Proclamation, and it seemed so extraordinary to have a King. The R.C.A., became the King's bodyguard and Q.C.s, became K.C.s. When King Edward and Queen Alexandra came to Edinburgh they stayed at Dalkeith Palace. It was not until Queen mary planned the improvements at Holyrood that the Royal Family could live there. I was at King Edward's Court at Holyrood. That was a thrill. Had there been a Court since prince Charlie's in 1745? Yes, King George IV had a court in 1822. I was at Courts at Holyrood, George V and George VI and Queen Elizabeth. I remember my Father saying, when Queen Victoria died. "I'll never see a Queen's Bodyguard again and I don't believe you will either." and I am seeing it now.

There were lots of lovely parties. I have the list of guests - 50 of them - at a children's party, 1889. Harry had a "class dinner" every year - it began in 1888. They went to Cooke's Circus after dinner and, later, to the Pantomime. We had dances - marvelous private dances. They don't exist now. Our parents had dinner parties - about a dozen during the winter - such menus - I have some of them - eight courses and fourteen different dishes.

We spent the summer holidays and most of the Easter ones - till I was sixteen - at St. Andrews, which became a second home. We alwasy had the same house, in Gibson Place, and we had marvellous holidays, riding and golfing. The journey was a delight - drive to Granton, on the boat to Burntistland, train to Leuchars, change and on to St. Andrews. We were sorry when the Forth Bridge was opened! What piles of luggage we had - boxes of silver and linen, besides our clothes. We had parties at St. Andrews, and our parents had dinner parties. "The Children's Links" were close to our house and we putted daily usually after tea. We were convinced that the best putters learnt the art on "The Children's Links". We had frequent competitions. We gave up the Gibson Place house with great reluctance but Mother rebelled. We always had golfing friends of Father's with us. "Starting times" were ballotted for - one match would be drawn at 9.30 and one at 11.30. Breakfast began at 8 and went on till 10. Lunch before 12 and went on till 2 or later. In fact, meals never stopped! And Mother said "I am too old to keep an hotel!" How did the marvelous servants do it? Besides coping with us and all our friends who were always in and out, and it wet weather, piles of wet clothes to dry. After 1896 we had holidays in different places. We often went back to St.Andrews but to hotels, not to a house. We had a house during our leave several times in Gibson Place, and found St. Andrews and all the people as charming as ever. (Note: This was her army leave when she was married.)

Places have always fascinated me, and history. I can't remember when I did not know all about the Castle, St. Giles, Holyrood, the Parliament House. my Father had a a story that they took me up to the Castle, aged about two and a half. An uncle lifted me up to look into Mons Meg and let me crawl in! Luckily I had a sash and Father had a stick with a crook so he hooked my sash and pulled me out like a corck out of a bottle. St. Andrews was a joy - full of history. I saw the Bottle Dungeon and all the old place quite lately.

Most of the New Town of Edinburgh was built by 1830. Before that almost everyone lived in flats in the high tenements in the Old Town. I was told that the attic flat was often the servants' quarter, shared by the servants of all the flats - a good idea. It must have been picturesque when the Judges and Advodates walked to the Parliament House arrayed in their wigs and gowns.

when the New Town as built, the corners were often flats - a "main door" and basement entered round the corner, "up a common stair", as we say. Almost all the lovely houses I knew so well, including our own house in Moray Place are "converted" (as they say) into flats, except the ones that are offices, hotels or nursing homes. I know very few people who live in a whole house now. There will never be a domestic shafts available to run five and six flatted houses, often with a "double sunk" - a flat below the basement. Old relatives of mine had a house in Abercrombie Place - the "Double sunk" was the stable, the carriage drove out of the back green into the Lane and round by Nelson Street to the front door. It has take about 120 years to change the West End into flats like Old Town. It was a good deal later that building began west of Coates House - now the song school of St. Mary's Cathedral. There is a story that my grandfather Chiene came home to his house in Northumberland Street unusually late. He explained that "Menzies would have me go to see his new house", and when my grandmother asked if he liked the house, he replied, "Oh, yes, but I would rather live in the real country" - Mr. menzies' house is 2, Englinton Crescent!

Did ever any generation see such changes and discoveries? Electric light - I remember going to see my Uncle John Chiene's electric light in Charlotte Square when I was about eight. I can see it now - glaring clear bulbs in a setting of brass leaves in the ceiling. My Mother was not at all impressed. "Well John, if you like dining in Cook's Circus!" being the most brilliantly lit place she could think of. telephones - the first I knew was a private line from my grand-uncle's house at hayfield to his office in Lerwick. We thought it was marvelous. Bicycles - we got ours in 1893 and they were a tremendous advance. Motor cars - about 1899 - we had "mishaps" on my first two trips. I wondered if it was necessary to have an "incident" every time. Aeroplanes - I saw my first one at Salisbury Plain in 1909 and 1910. There was an "Aviation Meeting" at Bournemouth. Someone flew round the Isle of Wight. Rolls - a pioneer - was killed. Some of the competitors never became "airborne". Cinematrograps - the first ones were so jumpy and "flickery" - silent, of course. Then "talkies" came - and colored films. Radio - the first "wireless" we had was a battery one and I still think a battery set is most wonderful. Now Televison.

Such a lot of memories are missed out. One of the loveliest was the "Caller Oo" of the newhaven fishwives, going round the houses with their oysters before finner - such a lovely call. The fishwife (all the families "had a fishwife" - ours was Mrs. Wallace) came into the kitchen and opened the oysters. We were sent down with the decanter to give her a glass of port. I wonder how many "drams" Mrs. Wallace had during a tour of Moray Place. Mother remembered when oysters were ''2/- the long hundred". I wonder what they cost now - but there are none in the Forth. (26/ - a dozen in London, April 1952).

The Caledonian Railway, after a fire that damaged the station, decided to build a new station and a hotel. This especially they hotel, ruined the West End, and our No.13. In 1899 we'flitted' to 4 Moray Place. We were very sad - it was dreadful to go to live "down the Hill" though we were quite at home where we had "played in the Gardens". Shortly before we "flitted" my grandmother "flitted" to Grencairn Crecent, which we thought was miles away. I wrote to my unlce and addressed it, "18 Glencairn Crescent, Dalry, "much to his annoyance, but he bided his time", and when we went to Moray Place he wrote to me, "4 Moray Place, Stockbridge". It did not annoy me - we thought Moray Place was "Stockbridge"! I wonder if anyone else ever "flitted" complete with "scaffy" - our Irish scanvenger, at Rutland Street, adored my Mother who had been very kind to him when he lost four children in a scarlet fever epidemic - at the same time a Harry and I nearly died - 1887. The first morning in Moray Place, Father looked out of the window and saw our "scaffy". When questioned, he said that he had told the Ceansing Department that nobody but he could "sweep Mrs. Cheyne's street" and they had transferred him to Moray Place!

We all regretted No 13. It is an office now, and have been over it several times. Nothing was ever quite the same. The Boer War horrified us - not knowing what was in store - South Africa seemed very far away. Though a great many of our friends went out, they nearly all came back. I used to think the South African War ended my childhood but perhaps it really ended when we left No.13.

I shall always be grateful for my home and my Father and Mother and brother, and for the lovely city I lived in.

We now have a flat in Rutland Square now so we are back very near No.13. It is an "original flat" built in 1842 - not "converted" and "up a common stair". An old servant came to see us there and said "I wonder if Mrs. Cheyne would have liked you to live up a common stair?".

(Note: The house referred to in Abercrombie Place belonged to Patrick Chiene.)