 We went, we saw, we think we found it! In follow up to this post this year’s Galloway Raiders 'birthday' trip (24th September) saw us go in search of Duchrae Bank Woods and the ‘Levellers/Roman Camp’ which is mentioned in The Dark o’ the Moon and Raiderland. Here’s what we went looking for, described by Crockett: You might play hide-and-seek about the Camp, which (though marked ‘probably Roman’ in the Survey Map) is no Roman camp at all, but instead only the last fortification of the Levellers in Galloway— those brave but benighted cottiers and crofters who rose in belated rebellion because the lairds shut them out from their poor moorland pasturages and peat-mosses. Their story is told in that more recent supplement to ‘The Raiders’ entitled ‘The Dark o' the Moon.’ There the record of their deliberations and exploits is in the main truthfully enough given, and the fact is undoubted that they finished their course within their entrenched camp upon the Duchrae bank, defying the king's troops with their home-made pikes and rusty old Covenanting swords. I’m still not sure if we actually found it (there’s more pictures HERE of what we think is the area) BUT we did come across the back of Little Duchrae on our walk. The excitement then was to experience Crockett’s childhood playground – while the trees may be newer, and/or certainly bigger if they date from 165 years ago – the views, especially the distant views, evoke the sights he grew up with from birth. And that, for me, was pretty exciting. The following description from Raiderland/Dark o’ the Moon suggests that you can see it from Hollan Isle. I can neither confirm nor deny this, but we used that as a bearing from which to try and reach what we think is the ‘spot’. 'over the trees and hazel bushes of the Hollan Isle… [there is] a view of the entire defences of the Levellers and of the way by which most of them escaped across the fords of the Dee Water, before the final assault by the king's forces. ‘The situation was naturally a strong one—that is, if, as was at the time most likely, it had to be attacked solely by cavalry, or by an irregular force acting without artillery. ‘In front the Grennoch Lane, still and deep with a bottom of treacherous mud swamps, encircled it to the north, while behind was a good mile of broken ground, with frequent marshes and moss-hags. Save where the top of the camp mound was cleared to admit of the scant brushwood tents of the Levellers, the whole position was further covered and defended by a perfect jungle of bramble, whin, thorn, sloe, and hazel, through which paths had been opened in all directions to the best positions of defence.’ (Dark o’the Moon) Such about the year 1723 was the place where the poor, brave, ignorant cottiers of Galloway made their last stand against the edict which (doubtless in the interests of social progress and the new order of things) drove them from their hillside holdings, their trim patches of cleared land, their scanty rigs of corn high in lirks of the mountain, or in blind ‘hopes’ still more sheltered from the blast.' [NB Dark o the Moon is set in 1724 as the Levellers last stand happened then at the end of the period of unrest] Whether we found it or not, we did in our adventure, come across the back view of Little Duchrae. But that’s another story (with pictures, coming soon.) Looks like the Levellers got here before us! (ha ha) 
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Fresh back from a trip to the Duchrae only to discover there's an event which would be interesting at Glentrool... I can't be there, but it sent me to the archives for some Crockett writing about the area. There's loads of mentions in his fiction and Chapter 29 of Raiderland is titled Glen Trool... copied out below.  RAIDERLAND
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE GLEN TROOL ‘Far hae I wandered and mickle hae I seen!’ But I hold to it that in the world there is nothing much more beautiful and various in its beauty than Glen Trool, from the Mennoch bridge to the highest waters of Glenhead Burn. Yet just because it is so beautiful and changeful, it is difficult to describe. It does not lend itself to a single impression like Enoch or Loch Dee. There is something homely, cultivated, comfortable even, about its wildness. Yet there is the expectation of the Romantic in the air. As I go upward through the copses, I always glance right and left for a camp like that of Silver Sand upon Rathan shore. ‘When I came in sight of the encampment I usually ran, for there I would see Silver Sand pottering about in front of his bit tent, with a frying-pan or a little black cannikin hung above his fire from three crooked poles in the fashion he had learned from the Gipsies. Whenever I think of Paradise, to this day my mind runs on Gipsy poles, and a clear stream birling down among trees of birk and ash that cower in the hollow of the glen from the south-west wind, and of Silver Sand frying Loch Grannoch trout upon a skirling pan.’ (The Raiders) Somehow, too, I always think of Trool as first I saw it, tremulous with broad flashing lights, reflected from the great cumulus clouds of a perfect summer day. But Trool has other moods, and her winter face is by no means her least attractive. Listen to Mr. Patrick Heron, who in his younger days knew the district well:-- ‘The yellow mist packed itself dense and clammy about us as we advanced. It had a wersh [raw], unkindly feeling about it, and as we rose higher up the water of Trool it hung in fleecy waves and drifts against the brow of the hills. But what I liked least was the awesome darkness of the sky. The mist was almost white against it wherever there was a break, yet itself was dark and lowering. A dismal, uncanny light that I cared not to look upon, pursued us and just enabled us to see.’ (The Raiders) It is worth while to adventure Trool thus, in the gloom of an oncoming snowstorm. The glen grows all indigo blue, crossed with wisps and streamers of whirling white. Beneath the loch lies black as night in the trough at the bottom of its precipices. You throw a stone down from a projecting arm of roadway, and it is lost to sight long before it reaches the water. Then, to quote Mr. Patrick again-- ‘The snow flew thicker, but in a curious, uncertain way, as though little breezes were blowing it back from the ground. A flake would fall softly down till it neared the earth, then suddenly reel and swirl, rising again with a tossing motion as when a child blows a feather into the air. ‘As we went along the pale purple branches of the trees grew fuzzy with rime, which thickened till every tree was a wintry image of itself carved in whitest marble.’ (The Raiders) Here is little change indeed, since the days of the Raiders. Yonder torrent glimmering white before us, whose roaring reaches the ear from far, is the Gairland Burn, and the path up its side is no better than of yore. That little low-lying isle in the water at the head of Trool is called Gale Island unto this day. The whaups still pipe overhead. The peats for winter use are stacked by the wayside, and the birds sing as of old in the fringing brushwood about the little bridges. Standing above Earl Randolph's bridge I too have seen ‘the morning star burning golden-white in a violet sky.’ But all these things are only truly appreciated by dwellers as distinguished from visitors—which makes me fear that many who come to Trool and the country of the lochs solely for a summer day's jaunt, may return with the impression that I exaggerate the wonders of the Raiders' Country. But it is not so. Any shepherd with an open eye will tell you (or at least can tell you) far more wonderful things concerning it than any I have written. There are pleasant quarters at ‘The House of the Hill,’ and much may be seen from there. But still, that is twelve good miles from Enoch and the Dungeon of Buchan, and altogether the old fastness keeps its secret well. Only to the stout of heart and the strong of limb is it granted to enter in and take possession. Now at long and last we are out on the ‘wide good road,’ along which we can set our faces towards Newton-Stewart and Cree Bridge. As of old there are pleasant farm-houses about us, where the cocks are crowing near and far, and the blue reek goes up very friendly into the sunshine—and the name of one of these is still Borgan, ‘not far from a bridge where the waters come down tumbling white.’ Of Newton-Stewart and of Creetown I have little to say. The former is the natural gateway and distributing point for much enchanted ground. It has good hotels, clean streets, and contains one of the most intellectual populations in the south. It was one of the last strongholds of Cameronianism in Galloway, and as a boy I learned much from the minister of Creebridge, the Rev. James Goold. But, to tell the truth, I am never easy in a town, even in a small one. I prefer to be out with Sweetheart on the spinning wheel, or a-foot on the heather with a staff in my hand and a camera on my back. Therefore let us be off! ‘Soon we are crossing a pleasant land open to the south and the sun, with cornfields blinking in the hazy light, and reaping-machines 'gnarring ' and clicking cheerfully on every slope. Past Ravenshall we go, where the latest Scottish representative of the Chough or Red-legged Crow were, a few years ago, still to be found—a beautiful but unenterprising bird, long since shouldered out of his once wide fields and lordships by the rusty underbred democracy of the Rook. A little streamlet ‘seeps' its way down through the ambient granite. It is sacred to the memory of a good man, who for years carried his drinking-cup in his pocket that he might use it here. It is the very spot. Ah! no more will Sir James Caird, greatest of agriculturists and most lovable of men, pursue his pastoral avocations—'watering his flocks,' as he loved to say, by taking out his guests to taste 'the best water in the Stewartry,' at this favoured well by the wayside. ‘Refreshed by a draught, we mounted again and the long clean street of the Ferry town sinks behind us. We climb up and up till we find ourselves immediately beneath the Creetown railway station, where signals in battle array are flanked against the sky; then down a long descent to the shore levels at Palnure. It is now nearly four in the afternoon, and we pause at the entrance of the long hill road to New Galloway, uncertain whether to attempt it or no. A man drives along in a light spring-cart. Of him we inquire regarding the state of the road. ‘Ye're never thinkin' o' takin' that bairn that lang weary road this nicht?' he asks. ‘It seems that the road is fatally cut up with the carting of wood, that much is a mere moorland track, and the rest of it unridable. This might do for a man, but it will not do for our little Sweetheart at four o'clock of a September day. Therefore we thank our informant, who races us, unsuccessfully but good-humouredly, along the fine level road toward Newton-Stewart, which smokes placidly in its beautiful valley as the goodwives put on the kettles for their 'Four-hours' tea. ‘Here we are just in time to wait half-an-hour for the train —as usual. During this period the Little Maid became exceedingly friendly with every one. She went and interviewed a very affable station-master, hand in hand with whom she paraded the platform as if she had known him intimately all her life.’ (Sweetheart Travellers) There is, besides, at Newton-Stewart, a lovely walk up to the Parish Kirk of Minnigaff, one of the most picturesquely situated in Galloway. Also the surroundings are kept with much taste and feeling for natural fitness. I do not know who is responsible for this, but whosoever it may be, I make them or him my very respectful compliments. It was not always thus—in so far at least as the clachan is concerned. Minnigaff is now only a pretty, wholly original suburb of Newton-Stewart. But it is far older than its neighbour across the way, and for long resisted the march of improvement. Something like this was its condition at the time of ‘The Levellers.’ ‘The clachan of Minnigaff,’ writes the chronicler, ‘was certainly one of the most ancient in Galloway, and at that time it resembled nothing so much as a boulder-strewn hillside, with the spaces between the blocks of stone rudely roofed over and thatched with brown heather and yellow oat-straw. A few of these huts had their gables to the road which passed through up the left bank of the Water of Cree, but the greater number were set at any angle, as if showered from a pepper-castor. ‘But whether duly oriented or dispersed at random, every domicile possessed another and often far larger erection before its door. This was the family midden—those edifices which in these latter days wise men have begun to study for what they tell of the life of the folk of bygone ages, but which, when considered contemporaneously and by means of the ordinary senses, are not pleasant objects for prolonged contemplation. These Minnigaff middens, I say, were in nearly every case larger than the parent house, or compound of dwelling and cattle-shed, whose inhabitants, human and bestial, had supplied the materials for its erection. Most of these middens, also, were set like mountainous islands in a sea of liquid green filth, where ducks dabbled and squattered all day, and in which patient calves stood winking the flies from their inflamed eyes, or to all appearance enjoying the coolness and the light aromatic breezes, as much as though they had been chewing the cud knee-deep in some rippling river or lily-bordered lake. N.B. The Dark o' the Moon (1902) tells this story and is the setting for my Duchrae Bank posts - of which, more to come as soon as the weather turns poor and I spend a day indoors!  When is a Woodland Really a Woodland? (And what does it have to do with a picture of curlews, not in a wood...)
Recently, while researching the historic Duchrae Bank Wood featured in Crockett’s novel ‘The Dark o’ the Moon’ , I stumbled upon a consultation proposal that stopped me in my tracks. The plan? A 307-hectare "woodland" at Duchrae Farm West. Sounds promising, right? But here’s the catch—this so-called woodland is actually a Sitka Spruce plantation. As someone who espouses the mantra "woods are good," I find this troubling. A plantation is not a woodland. In fact, it’s not even a forest—it’s a commercial venture designed for timber, not biodiversity. And yet, the term "woodland" is being tossed around casually to describe something that lacks the essence of a true natural space. Let’s break it down: What’s the Difference? 1. Woodland - Tree Density: Lower density, more spaced-out trees. - Understory: Rich in shrubs, grasses, and wildflowers thanks to sunlight. - Biodiversity: High—teeming with a variety of plant and animal life. - Human Influence: Often shaped by natural activities like grazing. 2. Forest - Tree Density: Dense canopy with less light reaching the ground. - Understory: Shaded, with mosses, ferns, and fungi thriving. - Biodiversity: High, with species adapted to low light conditions. - Natural Processes: Shaped by nature, from fire to natural succession. 3. Plantation - Origin: Human-made, with trees planted in uniform rows. - Biodiversity: Low—usually just one or two tree species. - Structure: Uniform, with trees of the same age and size. - Management: Intensively managed for commercial purposes like timber or biofuel. Now, does option 3 sound like a woodland to you? Because it doesn’t to me. I believe we need to be more careful with the words we use. Calling a Sitka Spruce plantation a "woodland" not only misrepresents the truth but also diminishes the value of real woodlands. True woodlands are biodiverse, rich ecosystems that support a variety of life—from plants to animals like the whaup, (or curlew) a bird native to these parts. Planting more trees is great, but not all tree planting is equal. Replacing muirland with a monoculture plantation doesn't support local wildlife or ecosystems. It’s brilliant to restore and create woodlands, especially in Dumfries and Galloway, but calling a commercial plantation a woodland is misleading. In Crockett’s ‘Night in a Galloway Wood’ (listen here) [from Bog Myrtle and Peat 1895) he gives us a vivid picture of what a true Galloway wood feels like. The sounds of birds, the sense of life buzzing all around—that’s the picture a "woodland" should conjure. A Sitka plantation, with its rows of identical trees and lack of biodiversity, paints a very different picture. Words matter, and using "woodland" and "plantation" interchangeably doesn’t do justice to the environments we’re trying to protect. We need to restore and protect our natural spaces, but we also need to be honest about what’s being created. Let’s champion true woodlands, and make sure we preserve the essence of what makes them so vital to our planet and wildlife. Let’s not give woodlands a bad name. The 'consultation' exercise is to be held on 24th and 25th September. Find out more HERE. Whaups were important to Crockett as is evidenced by their mention on the poem R.L.Stevenson wrote for him which is quoted on the Crockett Memorial: Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain are flying, Blows the wind on the moors to-day and now, Where about the graves of the martyrs the whaups are crying, My heart remembers how! Grey recumbent tombs of the dead in desert places, Standing Stones on the vacant wine-red moor, Hills of sheep, and the howes of the silent vanished races, And winds, austere and pure! Be it granted me to behold you again in dying, Hills of home! and to hear again the call; Hear about the graves of the martyrs the peewees crying; And hear no more at all.  ‘Time brings changes’: Duchrae Bank Woods and the Roman Camp.
2024 marks 300 years since the peak of the Galloway Levellers Rebellion. For more about this see the links at the end of this blog. So what is the Crockett Connection? The Levellers Rebellion of 1724 is the historic setting for Crockett’s 1902 novel The Dark o’ The Moon (the little known sequel to The Raiders). As is usual with Crockett’s work, ‘big’ history is relegated to subplot behind the adventure/romance. In this case the story revolves around Maxwell Heron (son of Patrick Heron and May Maxwell of The Raiders fame) and his love for Joyce Faa (daughter of Hector Faa, the ‘evil’ gypsy brother of John Faa -aka Silver Sand). One key location for the novel is the meeting of the Levellers at ‘the Roman camp’ at Duchrae Bank Woods. In Raiderland (1904) Crockett’s final chapter (Thirty Two) is ‘The Diary of an Eighteenth Century Galloway Laird’ (pp327-358 in the Galloway Raiders Digital Edition available free below) He writes of Duchrae Bank Woods thus: A son of the richest tenant on the estate is called upon to decide the worth of certain grazing privileges, which will be forfeited if the wood in the Duchrae bank is cut down. The young man takes two days to arrive at a decision. We can see him standing, gravely computing what his father and he will lose by the new arrangement—knit brows, bonnet pulled well down, neither anxious to favour the new powers that- be (who may one day have the letting of a larger farm), nor yet willing to do anything unjust to the interests of his father. He will not ‘blood the laird.’ Neither will he curry favour with him. So after maturest consideration he assesses the damage at two bullocks of the value of five pounds each. And on that basis, without a word the bargain is struck... "That I might have an Idea of this wood of Duchrae Bank, now fitt age for cutting, I went through the whole on the morning of the 24th, Andrew McMin of Urioch being my conductor. In his house I afterwards breakfasted. I found that the wood consisted but of small bounds, planting irregular, with a deal of brushwood owing to its not being taken good care of in its infancy; but few oaks and ashes – and few even of those, particularly of the oaks, good... "Having been applyed to by an English company through Mr. Livingston of Airds, whose woods they are presently cutting, to know if I would sell them such woods as I inclined to cutt, I made answer that as my wood of Duchbrae Bank was of a proper age for cutting I inclined to sell it. But as damages must be paid the Tenant, for the liberty of cutting, burning, carrying away and haining the woods afterwards, during the remainder of his Tack (and as I always incline to do all my business with the partie I have to do with, without troubling a third) I aplyed to the Tenant, William McConochie, a young man, son of James (McConochie), who is the richest tenant on the estate, to know what I must allow, desiring him to think of it and to inform me. He accordingly, after two days' consideration, informed me he reckoned the ground was equal to the maintainance of two Bullocks through the year, which he valued at 5 guineas yearly, upon which terms I might proceed to sell, cutt, etc., when I pleased. Less he could not take, as the shelter of the woods through the winter, with the food therein, was of importance to his cattle."... I should note that a lot of the above very much reads like the plot for Crockett’s novel The Loves of Miss Anne (1904) so that I suppose Crockett is re-using historical research material readily available to him while compilation of Raiderland is underway. All this aside, it has me wondering, what is the state of Duchrae Bank Woods (and the ‘Roman Camp’) today. I know that the Hensol Estates were sold in 2018 and at that point in time the following was written about the woods: The forestry element of Hensol covers almost a third of the estate, and is a particular feature. Of the 352 acres of woodland, 182 acres are conifers and 170 acres are mixed broadleaves. The woods are a key part of the landscape. They provide amenity, shooting coverts, timber production, and livestock shelter. The vendor has a long term forest plan (prepared by Langholm based consultants, Forest and Land Management Ltd.) which began in 2014 and runs up until 2034. It identifies plantations which can be maintained, thinned and in due course felled. The objectives of the forest plan incorporate a cash flow for the estate, create a long term positive carbon sequestration sink, protect and improve environmental and archaeological features, and increase the estate’s sporting capability. There is considerable potential for a large scale afforestation programme. I feel an (armchair) adventure coming on. If anyone has any ideas please either email [email protected] or get in touch via Facebook Links. To the ‘history’ of Galloway Levellers Rebellion. Local historian Alasdair Livingstone who died in 2018 did a lot of research on this topic. https://greengalloway.blogspot.com/2017/10/galloway-levellers-talk-22-october.html https://theses.gla.ac.uk/874/1/2009livingstonmphil.pdf (2009) And there are a couple of other history based YouTube videos: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8FA4fuGqfSk and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hPiv5v3Ea-M Links to Crockett’s work (all free PDF Galloway Raiders Digital Complete Crockett Collection) The Complete Collection https://www.gallowayraiders.co.uk/read.html The Dark o’ The Moon (1902) https://srcrockett.weebly.com/uploads/1/8/4/7/18474692/dom21.pdf The Loves of Miss Anne (1904) https://srcrockett.weebly.com/uploads/1/8/4/7/18474692/missanne21.pdf Raiderland (1904) https://srcrockett.weebly.com/uploads/1/8/4/7/18474692/raiderland21.pdf  The Raiders on Radio 4 will be preceeded by Episode 2 of Opening Lines. (a discussion and introduction to the book) Catch it live on Sunday (2.45pm - 3pm and 3pm - 4pm) or download both episodes from Sounds for a month after the live broadcast Episode 1 Opening Lines https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m001zmmz Episode 2 Opening Lines https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m001zvnj Episode 1 The Raiders https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m001zmn1 Episode 2 The Raiders https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m001zvnl You can read the whole book with a free download from this site. And if you can't get enough of it... why not read the entire Raiders Trilogy? (part 1) Silver Sand (1914) (part 2) The Raiders (1894) (part 3) The Dark o' The Moon (1902) Just go to our Books page, scroll through the complete works and download your chosen texts for free in PDF format.  ‘It was upon Rathan Head that I first heard their bridle-reins jingling clear. It was ever my custom to walk in then full of the moon at all times of the year. Now the moons of the months are wondrously different: the moon of January, serene among the stars – that of February, wading among chill cloud-banks of snow – of March, dun with the mist of muirburn among the heather – of early April, clean washed by the rains. This was now May, and the moon of May is the loveliest in all the year, for with its brightnesses comes the scent of flower-buds, and of young green leaves breaking from the quick and breathing earth.’
These are the opening lines of Crockett’s breakthrough 1894 novel The Raiders. Find out more on Radio 4: The Raiders – Opening Lines Sunday May 26th 2.45pm https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m001zmmz Listen to a radio adaptation: Episode One The Raiders Sunday May 26th 3pm https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m001zmn1 or read the book for yourself – free download of PDF file (of all Crockett’s works) https://www.gallowayraiders.co.uk/books.html Note: If you miss the live broadcast you can listen to the Radio programmes via BBC Sounds any time for a month (you need to sign up but you don't need a TV licence) and can listen from anywhere in the world. The more people who listen the more chance there is that other Crockett books will be adapted for Radio, and who knows, TV folk might wake up to the golden treasure chest that is S.R.Crockett's work. So spread the word far and wide!  10 years ago we launched the Galloway Raiders to commemorate the centenary of Crockett's death. Basic arithmetic thus confirms that today is 110th anniversary of Crockett's passing. If you're in Galloway today, why not pop up to the memorial at Laurieston or the graveside at Balmaghie to pay your respects.   Many obituaries were published after Crockett's death. Most of them have factual errors and inaccuracies replaced by some of the 'myths' which came with the cult of celebrity - however, I think they remind us of how significant Crockett's writing was in his own day. And certainly he's given me over a quarter of a century of pleasure in reading matter.
To mark the 110th anniversary of his passing, I recently recorded 'The Bookman' obituary. It was probably written by William Robertson Nicoll, an early Crockett Champion. You can listen to it in MP3 format by clicking the link below (8 minutes) https://drive.google.com/file/d/1MZOQBI4PxzXk_jX73EnU5zjE_4WBuyI9/view?usp=drive_link 130 years ago today ‘The Raiders’ was published. It was Crockett’s first published novel, following on from the overwhelming success of his short story collection of March 1893 ‘The Stickit Minister and some common men’ which was now in multiple editions. At the time of The Raiders publication Crockett was preparing for an Illustrated edition of ‘Stickit’ as well as working with his publisher T. Fisher Unwin on three other manuscripts which which would be published in 1894. ‘The Lilac Sunbonnet’ was being serialised (to be published in novel form in the autumn of 1894 in Britain and America) while ‘The PlayActress’ and ‘Mad Sir Uchtred,’ both short novellas, were in production.
Crockett was making waves in the London literary scene. It was, as we say, a dog eat dog world. Without some knowledge of publishing history it’s hard to contextualise the legacy we’ve been given of Crockett – which is key to answering a question I’m asked a lot ‘why have I never heard of S.R.Crockett?’ Let’s start unpacking this bigger story by looking at the actual publication of ‘The Raiders’ Crockett’s breakthrough novel. ‘The Raiders’ was due to be published on March 1st. Publishing rules at the time meant that no one should review a book until it was actually in print. Publication slipped from March 1st to March 10th and somewhere during the confusion a review came out in The Scotsman on March 5th. This caused Crockett’s publisher (T.Fisher Unwin) some consternation and there are some testy letters between author and publisher. Remember that at this time it’s in Crockett’s best interest to keep his ‘new’ publisher on side. And that said publisher had some history of disagreements with both Crockett’s agent A.P.Watt and his ‘champion’ W. Robertson Nicoll. One cannot take personalities out of this picture. It was finally released to the world on March 10th to great acclaim. Crockett went on to write over 60 other works which were usually published in serial magazine form before being released as novels. Ironically, ‘The Raiders’ is one of a few which were not serialised and now, 130 years on, it is about to be serialised on Radio 4 (June this year) for the first time. Let’s hope you wait 130 years for one radio serial of Crockett and then multiple turn up. There’s certainly a lot of mileage in Crockett’s work for both Radio and screen adaptations – that’s a drum I’ve been banging for decades. Not long to wait now…  Personal signed copy from Crockett to his agent A.P.Watt Feb 28 1894.
Crockett receives his first author copy of The Raiders which is due to be published in March. This follows a period of several months of proofing back and forth with his publisher, detailed in a series of letters. There was quite a lot of press interest in the publication throughout February. In a letter to his publisher, T.Fisher Unwin, Crockett requests for author copies to be sent to various contacts. It’s an interesting list. Feb 28th Dear Unwin, As I said in my telegram, I heartily congratulate you one the format of the book. I do not see a single possible improvement except omission of the list of publications at the end, which being printed for a larger publication is cut into the margin and looks out of keeping with the book. Otherwise the printing, paper, binding of the book, are all that I could wish. You have most certainly done your part admirably, and I am grateful for your great care. The book opens nicely, which is to my mind the be-all of good binding and it is very agreeable to handle. I asked you to send me another copy for Dr Whyte, who is not a critic but my very dear friend of many years. You would probably send it yesterday… if not you might do so at once. I am going to Edinburgh to see him on Friday and I should like to take him a copy as Dedicatee. It is very generous of you to suggest that I should send a list of reviews, critics etc. You are so judicious with your own sending that if you send somewhat liberally to the Scottish Local papers, of which Wylie has a better knowledge than I (and of which you can get a list from W) that would be for Scotland. I do not know many critics which makes the Stickit criticisms the more remarkable. But you might send copies, with, I think, advantage to:
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