#millers — Public Fediverse posts

Question for all of you USA folks: I have been watching Sanders on Stephen Millers via YouTube. it was like 6 parts, every 2-3 minutes "We'll be right back!"

Do you guys really have that much ads in linear TV?

#tv #usa #sanders #millers #lineartv

Question for all of you USA folks: I have been watching Sanders on Stephen Millers via YouTube. it was like 6 parts, every 2-3 minutes "We'll be right back!"

Do you guys really have that much ads in linear TV?

#tv #usa #sanders #millers #lineartv

Question for all of you USA folks: I have been watching Sanders on Stephen Millers via YouTube. it was like 6 parts, every 2-3 minutes "We'll be right back!"

Do you guys really have that much ads in linear TV?

#tv #usa #sanders #millers #lineartv

Question for all of you USA folks: I have been watching Sanders on Stephen Millers via YouTube. it was like 6 parts, every 2-3 minutes "We'll be right back!"

Do you guys really have that much ads in linear TV?

#tv #usa #sanders #millers #lineartv

Black Ferns: Jorja Miller’s mystery injury explained ahead of Rugby World Cup semifinal

“Question answered; we’ll move on.” A journalist from Reuters later asked if Miller would be available for the…
#NewsBeep #News #Rugby #absence #against #ahead #appears #AU #Australia #because #Black #Canada #Cup #explained #ferns #flanker #from #hamstring #injury #jorja #lineup #millers #Mystery #of #semifinal #sports #starting #this #weekends #World
https://www.newsbeep.com/au/151161/

Tod’s Mill: the thread about the mill that just wouldn’t burn down

This thread was originally written and published in November 2024.

On January 16th 1874 a calamitous fire engulfed the largest and most modern flour mill in Scotland, almost completely destroying it. £168,000 worth of damage was caused, split roughly equally between the loss of the mill itself and its stocks of grain and flour; around £24.3 million in 2023. This mill was Tod’s Mill – or to give it it’s formal name, the Leith Flour Mills – and its proprietors were A. & R. Tod.

A. & R. Tod were the brothers Alexander (1811-1888) and Robert (1826-1897) Tod, the sons of Marion Gray and James Tod. James was the village baker of Ormiston in East Lothian and his position required him to deal in grain, as at this time most bakers bought their own grain and took it to their local mill for processing into flour. James left bakery behind to pursue business as a grain merchant, in which he prospered.

The family were thus able to ensure each of their eleven children received a good start in life; their sons were all well educated and found good positions as apprentices. Alexander – and later his younger brother Robert – were apprenticed to bakers in Edinburgh, after which they followed their father and went into partnership as grain merchants. The census of 1851 records them as living in a fashionable Edinburgh townhouse at 14 Leopold Place with their parents; Alexander and his father being Master corn merchants and young Robert a Journeyman. Having established themselves in that trade, in the mid 1850s they took the lease on the water-powered Stockbridge Flour Mill on Baker’s Place. The business grew rapidly, the Tod’s earning a reputation for the best quality of baker’s flour and soon outgrew the confined premises at Stockbridge. So it was in 1859 construction began of a large, new, steam-powered mill, by the wet docks on Commercial Street in Leith. This project was completed by the end of that year.

On account of the unsuitable nature of native wheat, Scottish bakers baked with flour milled from imported foreign grain; traditionally from Europe but increasingly from Australia and Canada. With its expansive new docks and railway connections, Leith – not traditionally a milling town – was an eminently sensible place for a mill and would come to equal Glasgow as a centre for Scottish milling. The Tods’ new works cost £33,000 – about £4.7m in 2023 – and saw 27 pairs of grinding stones in operation. They were expanded only a few years later in 1861 at a cost of £50,000 (£7.6m). Demand could still not be met and so in 1869 a third extension was added at a cost of £12,000 (£1.8m). This final phase of development saw the mill operating a total of over 100 pairs of grinding stones and employing three shifts, each of around 300 men and boys. The operation ran day and night stopping only on Sundays, grinding 7,500 quarters (quarters of a hundredweight, or 28lbs – or 95.2 metric tonnes in total) of wheat a week, filling 8,000 bakers sacks of flour. The mill rose to 7 storeys on Commercial Street and its 180 foot high chimney was double that height, dominating the locality.

The story of the Tod brothers is one of restless and relentless modernisation and expansion; they constantly sought out the latest new technology for their mill. In 1869, a new granary building was added on the junction of Prince Regent Street and Couper Street. This six-storey building had a floor area of 14,000 square feet and had six cart entrances, arranged in a “drive through” manner so that carts could load or unload under cover without having to back up or turn back on themselves. This latter building is all that now remains of the mill, converted into a block of houses known as North Leith Mill.

The Tods were well respected around Leith and were generous benefactors to the community. They “never ceased to take a practical, kindly and personal interest in the welfare of [their] servants“. They ran the mill in a benevolent manner having taken all their employees into a form of co-partnership for the purposes of profit sharing. In 1872 they announced a 5% bonus on wages, raising it to 7.5% in 1873 as the result of a prosperous year. The workers respected that their employers were practical men, familiar with their shared trade having worked their way up, and they appreciated their direct manner of dealing with them in the broad Scots of country boys.

It was on the fateful evening of January 16th 1874, around 730PM, that the alarm was raised when a fire was discovered in the mill’s oldest wing. It spread rapidly and had taken complete hold of that part of the works within half an hour. Spreading relentlessly, by 10PM it had entered the third of the mill’s three wings – circumventing a fireproof boundary wall by creeping over the rooftop. By 1AM, despite desperate efforts to contain the spread, the whole of the main mill block was ablaze from end to end. The fire reached its zenith at 2AM and it was not until between 5 and 6AM that it was finally under control. It was said that Leith was so brilliantly illuminated “that at almost any point one could read with ease in the streets, and the reflection could be seen for miles around“. People turned out in their hundreds from the burgh to gawk at the unfolding calamity, reinforced by thousands from Edinburgh drawn from afar to the spectacle. They came to be thrilled and terrified by the noisy pyrotechnic display; flames, sparks and smoke were ejected out of the the hundreds of small windows and each time a floor collapsed, machinery was sent crashing into the depths of the blaze below.

The entirety of the Leith Fire Brigade (two steam engines) and much of the Edinburgh Fire Brigade attended. So intense was the heat from the fire that it was not possible to stand on Commercial Street opposite and the sandstone of the walls was seen to split and peel off in large flakes. As the masonry weakened and the internal structure tying the building together burnt out or collapsed, the external walls of the mill began to bow out dangerously. At 10PM the top 2 storeys of western gable on Couper Street gave way and collapsed onto the street below followed around twenty minutes later by the entire wall, all 450 feet in length and 4 remaining storeys of it. When it became clear that all was lost with the mill the hopes shifted to stopping the fire spreading to nearby tenements, bonded warehouses and shipping in the Queen’s Dock. The wind blew sparks and burning detritus towards these vessels and they had to be hauled to the eastern end to keep them from catching fire.

It is not too much to say that the destruction of these mills is in some respects a national disaster: for when it is taken into account that there was not a place from Carlisle to Shetland to which they did not send flour, their stoppage cannot fail to occasion inconvenience to trade and affect the grain market in a greater or less degree.

The Fife Herald, 22nd January 1874

When the flames had finally died down there was an awful spectacle to be seen: “those portions of the walls of both mills that have not fallen tower, in mid air, reminding one of the ruins of an old castle, while below there is a burning mass which still requires all the efforts of the firemen to prevent it from breaking out into a fire of considerable magnitude.” Only the fireproof boiler house, engine house and their chimney remained in one piece along with a detached flour store on Prince Regent Street and part of an adjoining tenement used as offices on Couper Street. In the month before the fire, the Tods had imported half a million quarters (6,350 tonnes) of grain into Leith. All that remained were were 500 sacks of grain and flour that workers had bravely salvaged from the stores during the blaze, now piled up in Commercial Street. Such was the extent of the destruction that a definite cause for the fire was never found; but it was thought likely that an Archimedes screw for moving flour in one of the Dressing Rooms had overheated for lack of oil in its bearings.

The Tods were fortuitous that their entire premises and stock were well insured and that their safe had been carried out of the offices before they were destroyed. Nevertheless there was a real worry in Leith that the brothers would take the insurance money and retire. Indeed Alexander, aged 63 and fifteen years his brother’s senior, decided to do just that. So it was with much local cheer that in March of 1874 it was announced by Robert that he had decided to carry on the business and that the mill was to be restored on a new plan. Determined to make it as fire-proof as possible he set off on a tour of Europe to inspect the latest in mill operations and fire-proofing.

After reconstruction the mill settled back down to a prosperous and relatively uneventful existence. In 1882 it was thoroughly modernised by converting it from grinding stones to steel rollers, with the three different wings of the mill each set up to produce a different grade of flour. The industrious new peace was shattered on Monday 5th April 1886 at 1230PM, when a “terrific explosion” erupted from the Exhaust Room, situated above the boiler house and directly below the lofty chimney stack. The explosion blew out the upper storey of the boiler house (where the exhaust room was located), reducing the two-foot thick walls of solid stone to rubble. Tragically the collapse of the walls onto the foot of Prince Regent Street killed a Leith Corporation street sweeper at work and two young brothers playing there, William and James Orchardson. A third brother – John – and another boy were scalded by the release of steam from a cracked pipe. They were pulled injured from the rubble as were three men at work in the boiler house.

The room in which the explosion originated contained machinery to vent hot air laden with fine flour dust from the mill. Somewhat ironically this was meant to reduce the risk of fire and explosion within the mill itself. Help came first from the garrison of Leith Fort, whose firefighters turned out with their engine, before they were joined by the regulars of Leith Fire Brigade. Further assistance came from the sailors of the gunboat HMS Elk which was tied up in the Queen’s Dock nearby. Despite the upper walls and roof being totally blown off the boiler house the damage to the boilers, the engines and the mill itself was minimal. Initial fears that the chimney stack might collapse proved unfounded.

Once again the mill was rebuilt. Alexander Tod died in 1888 leaving an estate valued at £97,221 4/5, or about £16.2m in 2023. After retirement he had dedicated himself to the life of a country gentleman at St. Mary’s Mount in Peebles. He spent his days fishing in the Tweed, his evenings in Edinburgh at musical concerts and allowed himself to indulge a little in politics, being a firm public supporter of Gladstone.

Robert continued to run the business for the rest of his life. He was not a man of the public stage but was known universally by the public as a man of philanthropy. He was long a director of the Leith Hospital; was a founder and trustee of the new Magdalene Asylum at Gorgie; of a convalescent home at Balerno; and of the Leith Association for Improving Condition of the Poor. Around the burgh his charitable work was extensive including supporting the Sailor’s Home, the Leith Industrial Schools and the Leith Gymnasium for Working Lads and Girls. His time and energy for these causes was matched by contributions from his deep pockets. In later life he sponsored Sunday evening concerts in Leith to try and attract those who had not attended church and who might otherwise be drawn to less wholesome evening pursuits.

In 1894, Robert converted his sole partnership of A. & R. Tod into a Limited company with the shares taken up principally by himself, his two eldest sons (Thomas and George), the general manager, the chief clerk and department heads of his mill. He died in 1897 at his mansion house of Clerwood, near Corstorphine in eastern Edinburgh. His passing “was received in Leith… with deep regret by all classes of the people… Tod’s death [was] regarded as a public loss“. He left an estate of £180,424 11/3, around £30m in 2023. This did not include the extensive land and mansion of Clerwood which passed to his son Thomas.

Despite the passing of its founding partners their Mill went on as it always had and the name Tod remained a benchmark across Scotland for quality flour. On December 2nd 1921 the mill was once again rocked by an explosion of flour dust but this time there was no fire and no injuries, damage being limited to windows blown out in the mill and broken in the surrounding streets.

The last calamity to beset the mill took place on September 6th 1943 when a granary, constructed on the corner of North Junction Street and Prince Regent Street, caught fire. It was quickly engulfed and the fire precautions failed to stop the spread across a connecting gantry to the 1869 granary over the road. The efforts of the fire brigade did however stop any spread further into the mill, an adjacent bonded warehouse and neighbouring tenements. There were no injuries but the loss of grain was hard felt during the period of wartime scarcity and mountains of charred and toasted wheat spilled out into the street through the broken windows. Fifty local residents were made temporarily homeless due to water and fire damage to their homes and were evacuated to hostels that had been prepared for air raid victims.

The North Junction Street granary was completely gutted, its roof gone, its floors and one of its exterior walls collapsed and it had to be pulled down. The 1869 granary was badly damaged above the 3rd floor level and was reduced to that height as a result. It is for this reason that in the 1944 Ordnance Survey town plan of Leith the 1869 granary is drawn as an unshaded outline, denoting an un-roofed structure, and the building opposite is missing entirely.

Flour milling was always a dangerous business; the risks of explosion and fire were an ever present hazard, not just to the Tods but to all millers. In the 100 years from 1850 to 1950, no fewer than 11 other notable fires and explosions afflicted the mills of Leith:

Once the largest and most modern mill in Scotland, Tod’s Mill was eclipsed in the second half of the 20th century by two newer and larger mills built nearby; the 1955 Caledonia Mill of Joseph Rank Ltd. and the 1970 (New) Chancelot Mill of the Scottish Cooperative Wholesale Society. Tod’s Mill soldiered on into the 1960s before closing, being demolished in the mid 1970s and replaced by a rather grim-looking red brick Job Centre office in 1979.

The thread about the East Foul Burn; profiting from sewage in the 18th century

This thread is part one of a series; the link to the next part can be found at the bottom.

We begin our story with the wonderfully verbose cover of a Victorian pamphlet;

FOUL BURN AGITATION!
STATEMENT
Explaining
NATURE AND HISTORY OF THE AGRICULTURAL IRRIGATION NEAR EDINBURGH;
Containing
A REFUTATION OF THE UNFOUNDED AND CALUMNIOUS MISREPRESENTATIONS ON THAT SUBJECT,
In
A PAMPHLET PUBLISHED IN THE NAME OF A COMMITTEE OF THE COMMISSIONERS OF POLICE, IN WHICH THE ANCIENT AND BEAUTIFUL CAPITAL OF SCOTLAND IS FALSELY DESCRIBED AS A RESIDENCE UNSAFE TO THE HEALTH OF ITS INHABITANTS!

I say pamphlet, the thing is actually 166 pages long and I spent quite some time reading it (skimming much of it) so that you don’t have to. It is Victorian local politics at its best and wors, and much of it is indeed pure agitation. But it was worth ploughing my way through it as it happens to contain a complete and detailed description of Edinburgh’s largely forgotten East Foul Burn and the Irrigated Meadow systems of Craigentinny and Restalrig, their history and their method of operation.

Anyway, what is this East Foul Burn of which I speak? Well it’s the principal watercourse that in olden times drained most of the Old Town, the Nor’ Loch and the small suburbs south of the city into the sea; rainfall, sewage and all. We can see it on the below map of 1750 by William Roy. It is the stream which flows from bottom left to top right – the stream originating in Lochend Loch in the centre left is the tail burn of that body of water.

If you examine a old map of the Old Town and consider the topography, it’s obvious that gravity will carry anything liquid downhill. John Slezer’s remarkably accurate 17th century sketches of the city help us to visualise this from a contemporary point of view; any waste discharged on the north side of the ridge on which the Old Town of the city was built is obviously going to drain itself into the Nor’ Loch.

That loch could only drain eastwards, in the direction of the sea. James Gordon of Rothiemay’s remarkable 1647 bird’s eye view of Edinburgh shows it clearly. After irrigating the pleasant-looking Physic Garden by the Trinity College Kirk, it ran off down the North Back of Canongate (what we now call Calton Road) where it was joined by any runoff from the community nestled below the crags of the Calton Hill and from the streets and closes of the north side of the Canongate itself. The stream (in reality an open sewer) passes a number of round structures; these were wells and water cistern – one of the reasons so many breweries would congregate here. 100 years later, Edgar’s map of 1765 still shows that this open sewer still ran here.

Stuart Harris, the late local historian and custodian of Edinburgh place names, refers to the wells here as being along the Tummel Burn (and you will also see it given as Tumble) which is an alternative name for the East Foul Burn, this refers to the water flow, although one imagines it wasn’t so much a pleasant babbling brook as a bubbling cauldron of filth.

The burn worked its way down the North Back of Canongate to the Wateryett (a Scots placename meaning water gate; the word for a gate was commonly port but can occasionally be yett; the word gate or gait meant a roadway e.g. Canongate). The water part of the name refereed as much to this being the route into the Canongate for drinking water from the wells as it was from being alongside a watercourse. The yett part refers to the area at the foot of the Canongate where there was a physical gateway; not a defensive structure, but a civic boundary and customs barrier. This is confirmed by a reference from a title deed in 1635 which describes the Foul Burn as being in a gutter known as the Strand. This latter term is an old Scots word for “an artificial water-channel or gutter, a street gutter” – the Abbey Strand is the name of the old building that stands to this day at the foot of the Canongate, just before you enter the grounds of the Holyroodhouse.

After the Water Yett, Edgar’s 1765 map shows that the burn ran in a culvert here, but we can infer its route. This map is the extent of 18th century town plans so to follow the burn we move onto an 1804 plan by John Ainslie to pick up the trail once more. It re-surfaces around Croftangry (corrupted in modern times to the Gaelic-sounding Croft-an-Righ) before disappearing underground again in the property of the Lord Chief Baron (Sir James Montgomery, 1st Baronet Stanhope) only to re-appearing on the property boundary between him and Mr Clerk. Comley Gardens and Clock Mill on Ainslie’s map are old placenames here still recalled by modern street names. The burn here now contains almost the entirety of the effluent of the city of Edinburgh, the Canongate, the burgh of Calton and the village of Abbeyhill.

The Comely Gardens referred to on the map above were a Tivoli Garden, a sort of Georgian amusement park where – for a fee – one could stroll the gardens and admire the roses, could take tea or coffee or fruits and entertainment such as dances and musicians may be laid on. Comely Gardens is to be forever remembered as the starting point of the Great Edinburgh Fire Balloon, the first manned aerial flight in the British Isles. In August 1784, James Tytler rode a Montgolfier-style balloon all the way to a crash-landing in Restalrig and his name is recalled in a couple of the modern street names in this area. But back to the matter in hand, following the burn east we have reached the Clock Mill, an old house named for a mill that was driven by the burn. The name came from Clokisrwne Mylne or Clocksorrow; clock is a corruption of the Scots clack, being a specific type of mill, an onomatopoeia based on the noise its mechanism made. Sorrow refers to some form of hollow in various old tongues.

In the vicinity of Clock Mill, two further open sewers joined the burn, adding yet more effluent. The came from the Pleasance (and by extension much of the Southside) and from the Cowgate to its payload. Both of these first drained into a myre just south of Holyroodhouse, marked on Kincaid’s map of 1784 as Common Sewer Kept Stagnate for Manure, i.e. the sewage solids would settle out of the slow moving water and could be collected to fertilise the city’s gardens and orchards. There was good money to be made in such “soil” or “dung”. Before the advent of early industrial fertilisers or the Kelp Boom it was one of the few copious and economical sources of fertiliser for fields and was much in demand – all you had to do was collect it (or pay someone to do this)!

After Clockmill House, which was demolished in 1859 to landscape its grounds as a military parade ground, the burn passed beneath the main road east out of the city (the London Road would not be built until 1819). The bridge here was known as the Clockmill Bridge. It is the presence of the burn that explains why significant culverts were built here under both the North British Railway and the London Road when each was constructed. Robert “Lighthouse” Stevenson, the engineer of the London Road, produced beautiful drawings for the culvert here under his road;

By the time the burn passed under this culvert, it was carrying the daily sewage of about 60-80,000 people, not to mention their animals. The Foul Burn Agitation! pamphlet describes it as “a rapid and copious stream… to which [is] added the impure waters that proceed from the houses, streets and lanes of the city“. From there, the effluent of the city should have been a relatively straightforward journey down the broad, shallow natural valley in which Restalrig sits to the sea, at Fillyside (roughly where the Matalan store now is).

However it could not take this natural procession to the sea as its process was interrupted; it was industriously turned over into a series of irrigated meadows, “irrigated by the waters from the City” at Restalrig, Craigentinny and Fillyside.

In the irrigated meadows, the Foul Burn was intersected by “principal feeders“, ditches cut along the topographic gradient. Water could be admitted to the feeders by means of sluices or damming the outflow. These feeders in turn fed further side-ditches into individual plots. The plots would be subject to controlled flooding from April to November, the fodder growing season. For two or three days a plot would be flooded, saturating the ground with sewage which would settle. The water was then allowed to run off and the plot was given three to five weeks for the grass to grow. It could then be cropped and the process could begin again. The process of flooding and cropping plots was rotated so that there were always fields ready to crop, and there was always a good supply of sewage with which to flood it. The whole object of this exercise was to provide a steady supply of food for the city’s dairy herds – this was a time when milk could not be preserved or transported any great distance, so the cattle had to be kept in and around the immediate vicinity. The system also had dedicated settling ponds where the soil could be collected and sold off by the cartload.

The Restalrig Meadows were at the turn of the 19th century the property of the forementioned Sir James Montgomery Bt. and extended to around 30 acres. The Craigentinny and Fillyside Meadows were owned by William Henry Miller of Craigentinny and were the largest at c. 120 acres.

There were further such irrigated meadows at the foot of Salisbury Crags, about 14 acres – the property of the Earl of Haddington – and near Coltbridge (modern Murrayfield) to the west, some 40-50 acres owned by Russell of Roseburn. This latter ground was fed by a much smaller foul burn – the West Foul Burn – which drained the portion of the city around Tollcross, West Port and Lauriston and the west end of the Boroughloch, making its way west via Dalry to Roseburn and then into the Water of Leith.

While the soil of the city had been collected since time immemorial, it’s not clear when this industrial-scale meadow system evolved. The Foul Burn Agitation! recounts testimony of elderly farm workers of Restalrig that they had been in place since at least 1750. However a document from 1561 when the lands of Restalrig Kirk were confiscated during the Reformation records “of certain prebendaries yardis, in Restalrig and Chalmeris pertening to the saidis prebendaris, callit their Mansis and pece of suard Meadow” – the suard here referring to a piece of marshy or boggy ground. The pamphlet states the “practice existed from time immemorial of flooding the Meadow grounds by means of the Foul Burn“. So we can say with some certainty that it was an old and established practice, and indeed the courts agreed with this when Alexander Duncan WS of Restalrig House tried to sue his neighbouring sewage barons, Miller and Montgomery, on account of the smell from the meadows spoiling his quality of life.

Indeed the legal action ended up backfiring on Duncan because in 1833 the Burgh Police Act protected the proprietors from any act “to divert or alter any stream or watercourse, or diminish the ancient and accustomed quantity of rain or other water or soil flowing therein“, guaranteeing their right to operate the meadows and collect the profits. (Side note, this was included in a Police Act because at that time in Scotland the Police had the powers and responsibilities for cleansing the burgh, distributing water and preventing disease).

The other aspect of the system was the settling ponds. These are recorded as far back as 1738 when Mr Baird of Clockmill was irrigating his fields and “collecting dung“, but by the late 18th century they were beginning to be infilled and had vanished by the 1820s. These are clearly shown on Kirkwood’s 1817 town plan. Appropriately enough parts of it look like a bit like a drawing of the human digestive system! The reason for abandoning the ponds because of two problems; firstly, there was too much sandy sediment washed off the city streets into the burn, and the customers – market gardeners mainly – were loathe to pour sand onto their plots and orchards. More importantly however the sediment was found increasingly to be full of seeds. Without putrefaction (fermentation), these seeds could not be killed, and when the seed-rich manure was spread it was an instant recipe for spreading weeds.

And so the system concentrated around the production of grass for animal forage; a very productive and profitable system it was. 400 labourers were employed seasonally, and some 3,300 cattle in Edinburgh and 600 in Leith depended on it, mainly pen-fed dairy animals. Most dairies were small concerns, run by the occupation of a “cow feeder“, with 20-40 milk cows each.

The meadows were estimated to turn a profit for their proprietors of £5,000 per annum (about £600,000 in 2022), with William Henry Miller estimating he made £30,000 (c. £3.4 million) over 2 years. Rents were 20-30/s per acre, or up to double that for the better pasture or during times of food scarcity. Preparing a meadow cost £20-25 per acre and was a sound investment. Miller in 1821 spent £1,000 turning over 40 acres of “sandy wasteland” – the lands of Fillyside were ancient raised beaches – to meadow use. Each acre could provide up to 6 full crops per year.

All-in-all, this was a very productive and profitable concern, so much so that in 1834 the Police Commissioners tried to extend the burgh boundary to include the irrigated meadows and to give themselves rights over them. They spent 4,000 of the city’s pounds on the scheme, which the Foul Burn Agitation! describes as “Dung Speculation“. They were unsuccessful though as the proprietors and their one-time adversary Mr Duncan fought the Commissioners off. William Henry Miller (a former MP by this point, wealthy and influential) was quick to defend his profitable scheme. In 1843 when the North British Railway proposed running their line across his meadows, Miller had them shift it about 100 feet west so that it instead skirted around his lands. He then exchanged parcels of his land on the south of the new line with his neighbours – the Dukes of Abercorn – who had parcels trapped by the railway on the north, so each could maintain a contiguous field system. Miller also made thinds hard enough for the NBR that they never built their proposed shorter branch to Leith across his land.

But the whole system had a number of problems facing it. Firstly, the woeful sanitation of the Old Town needed resolving – it was recognised by now that waste needed to be piped under the ground, not just run in an open sewer for the benefit of a couple of wealthy landowners. And secondly, in 1817 the Edinburgh & Leith Gas Light Company began building a gas works at New Street, crowned by its great chimney that dominated the Canongate.

At this point, coal gas works had yet to begin extracting their by-products for industrial use, so you can guess where the gas works were dumping all the highly toxic waste chemicals. Coal tar, sulphur and ammonia as well as any other numbers and varieties of hydrocarbons went into the Foul Burn from New Street. The gas works “give forth an abundant stream, the odour of which is no doubt extremely offensive, being the most nauseous of all compounds… …This flows into a principal feeder of the old foul burn at the South Back of the Canongate“. To put it simply, the gas works was poisoning the burn. This was not the first time that the foul burns had been polluted by industry. In 1791, Russell of Roseburn attempted to use the courts to stop the Haig’s distillery at Lochrin from polluting his irrigated meadows at Coltbridge.

The proprietors of the eastern irrigated meadows managed to get fines applied to the gas works, £200 per instance of pollution and £20 per day – this seemed to have the intended effect. Or perhaps the gas works just found it more profitable to begin capturing its by products for commercial gain rather than letting them run away. Whatever the reason, the Foul Burn was “cleared up” and the eastern meadows managed to carry on; the 1888 OS 6 inch Survey shows they still occupy their main extent. In 1901, an attempt was made to bury the entirety of the burn underground as a sere, but this was unsuccessful. The scheme finally commenced in 1921 as a work programme for unemployed men; a £60,000 government grant being secured to provide employment for 400 men for six months. This “draining of the swap” opened up the lands of Lochend, Restalrig and Craigentinny for public housing schemes in the 1920s and 1930s. Some of the land of the Fillyside Meadow had already been set aside as Craigentinny Golf Couse, which had been undertaken by Leith Corporation to clear golfing off of the Links. A railway yard was later also laid adjacent, appropriately it was called the Meadows Yard.

And what of the East Foul Burn? Well I can tell you it’s still there but just like many of Edinburgh’s old burns it’s hiding under the ground in its culvert. Very few people who live above it probably know it’s there. We get other reminders of its presence from local place names; the area name Meadowbank? that’s lifted directly off a house known as Meadow Bank, built on the southern of the meadows. And Sunnyside Bank off of Lower London Road? that’s the south-facing (therefore sunnier) bank.

This thread continues with part 2 – The thread about the problem of sewage disposal in 19th century Edinburgh and Leith; and how something ended up being done about it.

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