Some time ago, along with my husband and two children, I spent a delightful holiday in exploring the ruins of Crookston Castle, situated near Paisley, Scotland, which is said to be eighteen hundred years old. The old caretaker declared that we should not go away until we had climbed to the highest pinnacle and explored the deepest dungeon. Finally he took us to what seemed a dark recess in the wall, and said he was going to show us a historic chamber. Placing me first, and the others in Indian file behind me, he came last, and called directions to me. Following his orders, I entered the recess, and at the end I found a flight of stone steps. As the place was pitch dark, the caretaker called to me to shut my eyes and mount the steps. This I refused to do, and so keeping my eyes wide open, and my hands outstretched, I began to climb. Up I went, step after step, in the dense darkness, until at last I reached a place where the way seemed to be blocked.

I felt all around, but my hands only came in contact with a rough overhanging wall, and I called out that I could not go any farther. "Why?" asked the caretaker. "Because the way is blocked up," I replied. I heard the old man laugh quietly. "It can't be blocked," he answered; "try again." I began to grope again, toward my left, as the steps I had climbed had all wound in that direction, but only rough stone met my hands. Then our guide understood my difficulty. "Take a few steps to the right," he shouted, "and you will find yourself in the daylight." Without any hesitation I took three steps to the right, and saw a faint glimmer of light; then a few more steps and I entered a narrow doorway and found myself in the room which we had been seeking. The others were soon beside me, and we all had a hearty laugh at what I had supposed to be an impassable barrier.

February 5, 1910

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.