ANDREW AITKEN
— "Bauldie" | 05/05/1905 —

To Scottish exiles who have travelled from "Greenland's icy mountains to India's coral strand," there is no song I wot of that has touched their heart's strings more or made them sigh with dewy eye for one more view of the scenes of their dear homeland. As showing the power of this wondrous, yet natural, yearning of Scotia's sons, I will tell you of a little incident in my own experience which offers proof of it. Some four years ago I happened, in a journalistic capacity, to be present at Patna sports, a little upland village beyond Ayr, and near which the Bonnie Doon flows out in fullest measure out of the loch of the name. At this meeting competing as wrestlers were stalwart Donald Dinnie and "eonsie" Charlie Donaldson. On returning to Ayr, per train, as we sped downhill I happened to remark casually to Donald, who sat opposite me, "That's the Doon, the Bonnie Doon,""What; the Doon that Rabbie Burns sang o?" "That's it," I repeated. When up sprang the stalwart, and bending half out the carriage window, with distended eye and open mouth. he glowered at the swift and beautous running stream, drank in the scene, and then sat down as pleased, I am sure, as if he had seen the "River of Life" itself and quaffed its everlasting crystal water. "Man," says he to me when he recovered speech, temporarily lost, "I have travelled the warl' ower, and dwelt years in Australia, and I'm prood to say that I have leeved to see the bonnie Doon." If this was such a pleasure to Donald Dinnie, of Aboyne, what must it. bo to those who were born on the banks or the braes, and who spent their happy childhood days paidlin on the pebbly shere of the one or "pu'in'" the gowans fine upon the other? For the honest men, aye, and bonnie lasses to re-visit these scenes must, indeed, be a treat of treats, and one which the Bard of Ayr has immortalised in his soul-touching, undying verse as follows: —

Ayr, gurgling. kiss'd his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods thick'ning green; The fragrant, birch and hawthorn hoar Twin'd amorous round the raptur'd scene;

Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes, And fondly broods with misor care! Time but th' impression stronger makes, As streams their channels deeper wear.

It would be stretching the meaning of the word "exile" somewhat were I to apply it to Andrew Aitken, or to such as be, who, ye ken, have just "stappit" ower the Border and are no that faur frae hame and all its sweet and cherished scenes, memories, and friendships. Still, mind you, "faur awa' or no'," it is one of the finest traits in our Scottish character this love of homeland, and he is no true son of Scotia's who has not within his breast this yearning love. Well may I ask with Scott, with reference to this most natural and national trait, "Breathes there a man with soul so dead who never to himself hath said, this is my own?" Now that the English football season is at an end, I fancy that not only Ayrshire's honest sons, but all other Scottish shtre sons as well, will return post haste to their "calf country and renew acquaintance with the scenes which are printed indelibly on the tablets of their impressive memories. Leaving this, to me, delightful theme, and becoming more practical, I note that at a time when we are in West and East praising the football deeds of our school boys in the recent London v. Glasgow and Edinburgh v. London matches, that "Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a toon surpasses" has through its academy and schools given to Scotland some of its finest athletes and football players. I will let the names of a few of these trip lightly off my pen for the gratification of Ayr's sons and for the information of those who, I feel sure, are sorry they are not. There is, to begin, Rev. W. W, Beveridge, of the 'Cademy, who sped over the 100 yards in 10 secs, and who gained his Association International football cap in 1879; of the late John Hunter, who played back for Third Lanark (the present Scottish Cupholders) and for Scotland in 1874, 1875, and 1876; of his brother, also, alas! dead, who captained and who made, let me tell you, Aston Villa, the present Eag lsh Cupholders; of Thomas Cochrane Highet, of Queen's Park, who played for Scotland v. England in 1875, 1876, and 1878; of David S. Allan, Queen's Park, who did the same in 1885; of A. P. Findlay, who won the Scottish ten miles amateur athletic championship three years in succession; of J. B. Auld, who was Scottish 220 yards champion in 1896; and last, but by no means least, of Andrew Aitken (familiarly known as "Daddler"). Of these and a host of lesser lights Auld Ayr and Scotland has just reason to be proud. Since 1901 he has consistently and bril- liantly assisted his country v. England in her International matches. His retention of this responsible position for five years leads me to note a curious fact in connection with this place on the field in our Nationals from 1872 to date. It is this, that three players for no less than twenty-one years have filled or held it between them. These three are Charles Campbell, of Queen's Park, for ten years; Neil Gibson, of Rangers, for six; and now Andrew Aitken for five. It is again peculiar that the position of right back has also been held somewhat tenaciously. Thus the late Joseph Taylor, of Queen's Park, had five successive caps v. England, whilst, as all the world knows, Walter Arnott had ten; the late and lamented Nicol Smith, of Rangers, four, making a total of nineteen years filled by these three at right back, thus marking a grand total of forty years by these players.

Reverting to the recent schoolboy matches, just allow me to endorse the opinions of once-famous players Charles Campbell, T. C. Highet, and Harry M'Neil, and to say that more delightful play or more soul-stirring scenes I have not witnessed since the halcyon days of amateurism in Scotland. I have in finishing just to note Andrew Aitken's career. He came out as a forward originally with the Ayr F.C., but transferred his services to the Ayr Parkhorse as a half-back. Then years ago he crossed the Border, and as captain of Newcastle United he has the distinguished and unique honour of leading his team to victory in the English League championship, so that like Hugh Wilson, John R. Auld, and James Miller, all Ayrshire "callans," by the way, he is now the proud wearer of an English League badge, and he hopes yet to win and wear an English Cup badge of merit also.

Andrew Aitken was born in 1876, so that he is in his football prime. As a player he is most judicious, a rare tackler and placer, and a fine  tactician and diplomatist. Personally he is chatty and cheerful, and a rare conversationalist. That he may be long spared to adorn the game of which he is such a distinguished ornament is the wish of all Auld Ayr's honest men, and all beyond its bounds.