Though I have no known family connection to this man, (my Adamson ancestor, John, who married Ann Skuce, was in New Jersey at least by 1715) I submit this newspaper article as a tribute to a gentleman, Archibald R. Adamson, who made Scotland and North Platte, Nebraska proud! Perhaps someone who IS related to him will see this and have one additional proof that they have special ancestry. Evelyn Young ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Western Nebraskian - 15 October 1881 - published in North Platte, Nebraska page 1, columns 4 & 5 Presentation to a Worthy Citizen of North Platte Mr. A. R. Adamson, brother of our townsman, David Adamson, has taken up his abode in our city. Mr. Adamson is a gentleman of refinement, great intelligence, and of reputation as a literary writer. He is the author of several literary works, which have made his name honored and respected by all true Scotchmen. On the eve of Mr. Adamson's departure a few weeks ago for America, he was entertained by a number of congenial spirits of a literary club and presented with a handsome testimonial. From the Kilmarnock Standard, Scotland, we clip the following notice relative to the meeting, which we know will be read with pleasure by our Scotch fellow citizens, and we in common with them extend the warm hand of friendship to a true son of Scotland, who has wrought so worthily, and has laid another wreath upon the tomb of Scotland's noble bard, Robert Burns: PRESENTATION TO "THE RAMBLER" Mr. A. R. Adamson, author of "Rambles Round Kilmarnock" and "Rambles through the Land of Burns" - works which have afforded much pleasure and information to a multitude of readers - was entertained by a number of friends in the Rainbow Restaurant (Mr. Douglas's) on Tuesday evening, and presented with a purse of sovereigns as a mark of esteem and good wishes on the occasion of his leaving Kilmarnock to settle in the United States. Mr. James McKie occupied the chair, and Mr. James Rose officiated as croupier. After preliminary toasts, The Chairman, in making the presentation, said: - All my literary acquaintances are passing away; the majority of them have gone over to the great majority, and were it not for a new one cropping up occasionally I might write Ichabod on the portals of my door. I have lately formed acquaintance with Mr. Adamson through his writings. It was his "Rambles Round Kilmarnock" and Rambles through the land of Burns: that first attracted my attention toward him, and I am sorry to think that our acquaintance is to be, so far, cut off by his emigrating to America. On his Rambles through the Land of Burns" being published, I noted on the fly-leaf (a thing I do on all the books in my private library) as follows, and as I believe I could neither add to nor diminish from what I have there noted I give it you - "I know the author of this work, but would rather for the time being forget entirely the man, to speak of the book, as I fear that my opinion might be influenced and exaggerated. However, honestly and conscientiously, I make bold to say that I cannot praise the work too highly. To say that it is a very entertaining and readable book is to give no idea of its intrinsic worth. Nobody in reading over the pages would think that the author is a mere working man - of a very refined sort however. His language is chaste and beautiful, and in his description of scenery and surroundings, his eagle eyes misses nothing. This is a valuable stone thrown on the great cairn to the fame of the "Imortal Robert Burns." (Applause.) But now to the more important business of our present meeting which, like the practical application of a sermon, or the postscript of a lady's letter, is the chief ultimatum, viz. - To present you, Mr. Adamson, with this purse of sovereigns from a few of your friends and well-wishers in Kilmarnock who, with the present company, wish you great happiness and prosperity to the land you have chosen for your adoption. (Applause.) Mr. Adamson in replying said: I can scarce trust myself to rise and thank you and the subscribers who are not present for this handsome testimonial and the honor done me on the occasion of my leaving the dear old town of Kilmarnock to start life afresh in a land wherein I am comparatively unknown. In Kilmarnock I have many warm friends, and each hill, dale, and murmuring streamlet in its vicinity is dear to my heart. I know them all, and when far away amongst strangers, my dreams shall be of them and in fancy I shall wander by them, as I have done in days of yore. (Applause) No one regrets the cause of my leaving my native country more than myself, but perhaps the step I am about to take will be attended with brighter prospects than I can at present imagine. Yet "Backward when I cast my view, On prospects dear, And forward though I canna see, I guess and fear." I have had a curious career and should an account of it ever be written, I feel certain that it will prove as interesting as any novel. No testimonial is required to remind me of Kilmarnock. It and the sunny rambles I have had in its vicinity can never be forgotten, and the friendships I have formed to it shall forever form the cement which binds it to my soul. (Applause.) The future to me is black and cheerless, and the step I am about to take seems one in the dark, even although my brother in America holds out every inducement, and pronounces success certain. I may add that I do not lack encouragement, but it is hard to tear one's self from a place to which one is attached by ties of the most sacred description. Tomorrow, I leave Kilmarnock, perhaps forever, and all my wandering in "The Land of Burns" shall appear as a pleasant dream. Therefore in the language of the bard of whom I have written so much - "Tis not the surging billows roar, Tis not the fatal deadly shore; Though death in every form appear. The wretched have no more to fear! But round my heart the ties are bound. The heart transpierced with many a wound. They bleed afresh those ties I tear, To leave the bonnie banks of Ayr. Farewell old Coila's hills and dales, Her heathy moors and dales; The scenes where wretched fancy roves, Pursuing past unhappy loves! Farewell, my friends! Farewell, my foes! My peace with thee, my love with those - The bursting tear my heart declare: Farewell the bonnie banks of Ayr." A very pleasant evening was spent with song and sentiment."