Gardner Gay Davis Obituary

Holder of the 'Post' Cane

January 1, 1933

January 1, 1933

Gardner Gay Davis died at his life- long home in the south part of town at the age of 78 years. Mr. Davis was the son of Samuel Davis and is survived by several brothers and sisters. Mr. Davis was holder of the "Post" gold headed cane.

James Roger

James Roger

James Roger diary entry

30th May 1913

Fair, cool, and windy; wind variable. David finished Jim Davis’ house and working at Spoffords’ after. I trimmed lots and went to Greenville for flowers for Hubbard lot. When at Express Office, saw the grain store of Prescotts next to the Express Office had been burned during the night. Got letters from Hamish, May, and a bill for golf dues. Mother had a good day.

James Roger Poetry (from 1881)

Modern Scottish Poets, Third Edition - D.H. Edward 1881

Biography of James Roger as published in the 1881 book:

JAMES ROGER , STATION MASTER, Roslin Castle , has been & prize- taker in connection with poetical competitions in the columns of the People's Journal, &c. and many of his pieces give evidence of a pure and thoughtful mind, deeply in love with the beauties of Nature, of which he sings with simple and unassuming tenderness.

He was born at Kirkmichael, Ayrshire, in 1841 , and graduated in the school of honest poverty, having been working for himself since he was eleven years of age. He left Ayrshire in 1858, entered the service of the North British Railway Company in 1866, and has been in his present position since 1870- greatly esteemed for his civil and obliging manners, as well as for his moral worth. Besides writing occasional verses, Mr Roger is known as a diligent and intelligent student of geology and botany.

THE BRAES O' BLACKCASTLE.

The brackens are brown on the braes o' Blackcastle,
The red leaves o' autumn are strewn on the plain ;
But aft on the hillside the brackens will rustle,
Ere with Flora I roam on Blackcastle again.

Oh, sadly we gazed on the crimson sun setting,
Whilst bricht shone the licht on the Isle o ' the May,
And doon in the meadows the cattle were grazing,
Whilst the redbreast was warbling the dirge o' the day.

And the woodland was bathed in a golden brown glory,
Where the warm lips of autumn each leaflet had prest ;
Whilst sombre and stern, like the heroes of story,
The uprearing pines swayed their feathery crest.

And sweet frae yon tree- tap the mavis was trilling,
And the coo o' the cushat sae plaintive and wae,
Struck an echoing chord in our hearts which were thrilling Responsive to a ' the sweet notes o ' their lay
.
But the glory soon faded- the birdies ceased singing,
As dark o'er the landscape nicht's mantle did fa',
And the seagull o'erhead was screaming while winging Its way to the Bass or to dark Berwick Law.

And the dewraps, as saft as the kiss o' a maiden,
Were weetin' the wee flowers that spangled the hill ;
Whilst the blush- fringed gowan, wi' nectar o'erladen,
Bent low to its neebour, the bonny blue bell.

Oh, friendship is pleasant, in youth's sunny morning It springs frae the heart, free frae envy and strife ;
Our toils they grow lighter, our joys they grow brighter,
For the love-wreaths we weave round the chains of our life.

'Tis in mem'ries like these where true pleasures are found Illuming the mind with a mellowed caste,
When the gloaming of life draws its curtains around,
And we turn o'er the tear-blotted leaves of the past.

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