The Scotsman Wed 12 Feb 1845MELANCHOLYACCIDENT-EIGHT BOYS DROWNED AT SHOTTS-On Tuesday afternoon the 4th current, eight fine boys, belonging to the village of Sallysburgh, Shotts,lost their lives in a reservoir (generally called Bogfoot Loch”) in the immediateneighbourhood, while engaged in the amusement of sliding.The accident took place unseen by any one;and the fears of their village were only roused by the boys not making their appearanceas usual in the evening .The nightwas fearfully dark,and the fatal spot of which the boys had sunk was unknown.What a night of anxiety and sorrow the poor parents must have must have passed!As soon as the morning dawned , an immense crowd of people assembled, and having procured planks and ladders and ropes, for the purpose of reaching from the bank to the place where they must have sunk-a task of considerable difficulty and danger, on account of the frailty of the ice, and the depth of the water-they succeded at last in bringing out the bodies of the whole eight youthful sufferers. The scene was truly affecting when body after body was brought to the bank;and few that witnessed it could refrain form tears.And when parents who had lost one child were soagonized with sorrow, what must have been the feelings of those of them from whose domestic circles two children had been taken away at once.-Abridged from the Glasgow Citizen.
Herald Monday10th Feb1845
Melancholy Accident – Eight Lives Lost – On the afternoon of Tuesday last, one of those calamities which from one cause or another form a melancholy epoch in many a rural hamlet throughout Scotland, took place at the clachan of Mooryhaugh, or Gutters, a place about a mile west from Shotts Kirk. It appears that no less than eight boys left this little hamlet towards the evening of Tuesday, for the purpose of sliding and amusing themselves on Duntillan Loch, or reservoir, and of this number not one returned to tell the tidings of their sudden fate. Conjecture, therefore, as to the immediate cause of this affecting accident is all that can be known, as only one man in the nieghbourhood of the Loch saw them, and that was about dusk of the evening: they were all merry then: but on looking out some time afterwards, the whole group had disappeared – whither he knew not. The boys had not returned home, and the anxious parents naturally began to inquire of one another, what was become of their Willie – their Jamie – or their Johnnie? but no one could give a satisfactory reply. Duntillan Loch was spoken of through the day by some of the boys, and two of them were known to have gone in quest of heather to make brooms. The Loch was soon reached by the whole population of the place, and there by its verge was found the collected heather, but no one to claim it. The cries of the poor distracted mothers now became perfectly heart-rending. Not an eye in the hamlet was closed in sleep that night: but the wailings were deep and loud. On Wednesday morning the whole country side was collected at Duntillan Loch: search was made, and the eight bodies were got lying together beneath the fatal spot where ice had given way. The names of the families thus bereaved are –
The family of Lochheed,Two boys
-Main,Two boys
-MarshallOne boy
-Miller,One boy
-Wardrop,One boy
-ClydeOne boy
Everything that humanity can suggest has been done to soothe the sorrowing parents and friends. The clergymen of the parish of Shotts, the Rev. Messrs. Watt and Hill, have been most assiduous in their attentions: while the country people around have evinced, by their inquiry and attention, that they, too, deeply sympathize in the melancholy cause of so much general sorrow.
The Reverand Watt (left) one of the ministers who conducted the funerals of the unfortunate boys.
Lines by a Bereaved Mother on the Eight Boys who were Drowned at Duntillan Loch, Salsburgh on the 4th February, 1845
Oh what a sound of sorrow hereTwo Christian ministers did come
what mean those piercing criesGreat consolation giving
An only Son his parents joyTeaching the parents not to frown
In cold water liesFir ‘twas the will of Heaven
Eight youthful boys did leave their homesSure it was the appointed place
And in great haste did steerBy Heaven’s high decree
Unto Duntilland Loch they wentBut how these blooming youth went down
Ne’er dreading harm nor fearNo mortal eye did see
Great sorrow on my heart doth comeOh God Thine ever seeing eye
While I relate their doomWas present at that time
As all at once the ice gave wayAnd called those youthful wanderers home
And these poor boys went downFor some great work divine
No human eye for to beholdLong shall the seventh of February
And no assistance nearWith pain remembered be
no ear to hear their dying cryTwo hundred friends did them inter
No one to drop a tearIn great solemnity
Oh Lord Thine all sufficient aidCompanions dear they were in life
Is present everywhereIn death they did not swear
And angels guarded round the spotIn Shottskirk Churchyard their bodies lie
While they were suffering therequite close to one another
That night was dark and fearful darkBehold my son was one
While each searched for his ownWhos death did wound my soul
But undisturbed these bodies did lieAnd made my heart strings all to bleed
Within a watery tombAnd through my bosom roll
That night was spent in sad despairLike flowers he opened fair to life
For nothing could be doneWith every blooming joy
Before the sun did gild that dayBut cruel death did seize on him
The corpses were brought homeAnd slew my darling boy
The neighbours all were sore oppressedAnd oft with painted future joy
It spread a dismal gloomWhen he grew up to man
To see eight bodies stiff in deathBut all the springs of pleasures day
So late in health and bloomI shall lament my son
Sore prangs did rend their fathers’ heartsAdieu my son the day comes soon
The mothers’ souls did moveWhen friends shall bear me to the tomb
And oft they kissed clay cold lipsOh may we meet when cares unknown
Which they so much did loveIn that bright world above
Where every tongue and heart employ
And every soul is filled with joy
Where grief and pain no more annoy
And sorrow is unknown
Mrs. Miller
LINES ON THE DEATH OF EIGHT BOYS WHO WERE DROWNED ON 4TH FEBRUARY, 1845 IN DUNTILLAND LOCH IN THE PARISH OF SHOTTS.
Hark what doleful sounds are these
Low moans came sweeping on the breeze
Like a soul surcharged with grief
By fits it bursts into a sigh
Oh God what means that dreadful cry
May morning bring relief
The dawn of morn had scarce begun
When low before the rising sun
Eight corpses were brought to view
Each father gazed with anxious dread
With bursting heart and aching head
As each one out they drew
Eight boys had left their happy homes
The day before in joyful tones
Some duty to perform
While they cut down the heather bed
And flung some lightly on his head
To hasten their return
The tempting pond in passing by
With crusted face so clear and dry
They threw the bundle down
And ventured rashly on the ice
No one was there to give advice
Or bring the tidings home
Meanwhile the night grew dark apace
Eight mothers ran from place to place
Enquiring for her boy
But ne’er again will they spear
Their parents withered heart to chear
They’ll never taste that joy
They neighbours all were on the ground
From every cot and hamlet round
With anxious doubt and fear
Then to Duntilland Loch they hied
The heather over there they spied
To mark the spot was near
With horror did they spend that night
By the ice bound lake till mornings’ light
Each thinking of his own
And every one assistance lent
To drag the pound with firm intent
To bring these dear ones home
Ah who can pains the mothers’ care
With shrieks and moans of dire despair
The echoes rung around
While one rushes forth with passion wile
And to her bosom clasped her child
Soon as that child was found
Another turned her eyes away
To shocked to look upon that clay
The loved so much in life
Her bosom heaved with writhing pain
The strove but could not look again
So dreadful was that strife
While all with sorrow were oppressed
The grief that filled each parents’ breast
In divers ways were shown
Some rent the air with piercing cries
While some in silent agonies
Wished much to be alone
Two Christian ministers were there
Striving to both their sad despair
But nothing could be heard
Save the wailing mothers’ moan
Like Rachel weeping for her own
Because her babes are not
Probably written by William McHutchison.
Dated as 1870 but the style of writing tends to suggest
it has been written earlier possibly around the period
shortly after the tragedy.(Salsburgh Heritage Group).