CHAPTER V.

BLINKBONNY AND THE DISRUPTION.

“But there are true hearts, which the sightOf trouble summons forth;Though known in days of past delight,We knew not half their worth.”Thos. Haynes Bayley.

“But there are true hearts, which the sightOf trouble summons forth;Though known in days of past delight,We knew not half their worth.”

“But there are true hearts, which the sight

Of trouble summons forth;

Though known in days of past delight,

We knew not half their worth.”

Thos. Haynes Bayley.

SIR JOHN had written to his steward to tell me that Mr. Barrie had left the Established Church; the steward showed me the letter; it was a compound of amazement, sympathy, and anger.

Scarcely had he finished, when Bell, evidently in a state of great excitement, came in and said, “Eh, Mr. Martin, it’s ower true; we’ll hae to flit! Mr. Barrie’s gi’en up the kirk, and he has nae richt noo to the manse. I canna tell exactly when we’ll be putten out, but the mistress says we’ll no’ be allowed to bide lang. I wadna like to be the Government that put Mr. Barrie out o’ house and ha’. Some Mordecai will rise ere lang to gi’e us relief, or some Nehemiah to speak to the king and queen about the desolation andaffliction and reproach. Them that comes to pit us out will maybe find an enemy in the garden, like Ahab in Naboth’s vineyard. What’s the world comin’ till?”

Sir John’s steward knew Bell well, and tried to soothe her by saying, “Don’t bother yourself. If Mr. Barrie adhered to his resolution to leave the Established Church, no one would presume to hurry him out of the manse; at all events, he could have it until a successor was appointed.”

But Bell was not in a sociable mood, and only said, “Sooner or later we maun flit.” Then handing me a letter from Mr. Barrie, she said she would step into the kitchen until I got it read, and wait to see if there was any answer.

KNOWE PARK.

The letter confirmed the steward’s news, and stated it would be a favour if I would reserve for him the first offer of Knowe Park, and that he would be home as soon as possible. After the steward had left I went to Bell, and told her that Mr. Barrie’s letter was about Knowe Park, and asked if she would come with me and see if it would suit. This was rather a sudden following up of the affair, as Bell had convinced herself that Mr. Barrie would never leave the manse; and although she had generally ended her remarks on the subject with “Wherever could we gang?” she had not tried to answer the question. After alittle hesitation she said, “Knowe Park! that’s where Mr. Taylor lived,—he had a grand apple tree—an ‘Oslin pippin.’ Is’t aye yonder? It’s a nice garden—a nice place to stop. I’ve noticed them buildin’ a new house there, but I haena paid muckle attention till’t. I wad like to see’t. I’ll be very glad to gang.” And off we set.

It took a very few minutes to go. Bell was pleased with the outside of the house. “It was a nice house—fine big windows—faced the south—wad hae a grand view—the garden was bigger than she thocht, and in gude order. Is thae my plants?—they were thrivin’.” With such snatches did Bell accompany her survey of the place before she went into the house. She criticized the inside more minutely, her standard being the manse. As she went from room to room she spoke of each, or rather thought aloud: “This is the kitchen—it’s very nice—lichtsome—plenty o’ room—it looks a nice grate, or I fancy ye’ll ca’ that a range. I never tried them, but they say they’re handy. Presses—pantry. What’s ben here?—washing-house—coal-house—awmrie[2]—bedroom. Very nice; this will do fine. Noo, what about a study?” I suggested a bedroom, but she gave thatonly a partial approval; the other rooms pleased her. When I showed the drawing-room, “Drawing-room!” said she; “we hae nane at the manse, and Mrs. Barrie thinks we get on fine without it. We’ll make this the study. But what about the outhouses?”

[2]The old Scotch name for the store-room containing dry food, such as flour, meal, etc.

This exercised Bell greatly. There was an old building in the north corner of the place, behind the bleaching-green, which I had left as it was; it was a compound of stable, hay-loft, cart-shed, fruit-room, and potato-house, but required considerable repair. I was undecided whether to repair it or replace it by a building more in keeping with the house, but Bell protested against new outhouses. “Na, na; nae mair expenses. Whitewash it, gi’e it a bit sort up, and it will fit us exactly.” Then going to the hedge on the east, she said, “Wha’s aught this park?”

“It goes with the house,” said I, “and is at Mr. Barrie’s service.”

Bell was delighted: she saw her way to bring “Daisy” and the hens. She became quite cheerful, and left me, saying as she parted, “It’s the very place for us. I wadna say it’s just up to the manse, but I’m thankfu’ to ken of such a gude hame for them among kent folk ‘Better a wee bush than nae bield,’[3]as the saying is. But it’s no’ wee either; it’s just real nice.”

[3]Shelter.

MR. BARRIE’S RETURN.

Mr. Barrie’s return was awaited by the folks of Blinkbonny with mingled feelings, uppermost being anxiety about his worldly prospects. They were hardly prepared for the Disruption; and when they learned that Mr. Barrie had disjoined himself from the Church of Scotland, and consequently from his only source of income hitherto, they spoke of it as a serious matter, a very serious matter. It looked a rash step, and they felt more than they said, for the thought of his family and their future support pressed heavily on their hearts, and made his friends silent and solemn. He reached home on Thursday afternoon, and felt at a loss how to act. A few of his elders and friends had had little meetings on the subject, but these were unsatisfactory, because every one had nearly the same want of opinion. “They really did not know what to do;” “What could they do?” was all they could say, followed by a shake of the head and a puzzled look at one another. When they learned that Mr. Barrie had got back, they debated whether to wait forhimto propose a meeting, or to go to him. The majority recommended that some of their number should call at the manse; but each wished his neighbour to go, and all were reluctant.

At length Mr. Taylor, a worthy elder and a sterlingman, said: “Friends, it will never do to back out that way. It’s unkind to Mr. Barrie, and it’s not creditable to ourselves. If three or four of you will join me,” and looking round the company, he nodded to each as he named,—“say Mr. Smith, and Mr. Watson, and Mr. Brown, and Mr. Martin,—we’ll go, and go soon.”

This met with universal approval, and a letter was sent to let Mr. Barrie know that some friends would wait on him about seven o’clock, if convenient. The reply was cordial and touching. It conveyed his heartfelt thanks for “the prompt kindness that provided for him so thoughtfully the earliest possible opportunity of explaining his position, and conferring with them on the important events of the past week,” and expressed the pleasure he would have in seeing all that could conveniently come, whether they approved of the step he had taken or not.

TANFIELD HALL.

This letter removed the objection that many felt about going to the manse, and the company filled the dining-room. We expected to find Mr. Barrie dejected and downcast, and were surprised to find him not only cheerful, but more demonstrative in his heartiness than usual. How to introduce the matter had puzzled the deputation. This was not needed. Mr. Barrie very fully, but in moderate language,stated the case as between the Free Church, the Government, and the remaining ministers of the Established Church, making it appear very different to me from what Sir John had made it. None of us ever saw him so animated as when he described the meeting of the Assembly from which, after the Protest and Declaration was made, hundreds of ministers walked out for conscience’ sake; the perplexed look of the remaining members of Assembly; the awe-struck, solemn silence of the crowd as the line of reverend and grave men became longer and yet longer; the tumult of joy and sorrow as they crowded into Tanfield Hall; the reception they got from ministers of other denominations and the Christian public. As, however, these are fully described in the chronicles or annals of the times, I will not repeat them here, but would commend the subject to the attention of the student of history, and of the Scotch people, whichever side of the questions in dispute they may favour.

When he had laid the case before us, Mr. Barrie with great earnestness said, “I wish no one to join the Free Church, for”—here he hesitated, and looked as if debating something with himself, then resumed, “for—for—well, excuse me for using the term, for my sake. I wish every man to act only on distinctconviction; and, if I know myself at all, I consider the right of private judgment in such matters such a holy thing, that I will respect those who, on conviction, differ from me on this matter, as much as I will those who go along with me in it. And now, Christian friends, I leave the matter in your hands. Consider of it, take advice, and speak your minds.”

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.

A long, impressive silence followed Mr. Barrie’s remarks. The deputation looked down, then up, then at one another. At length Mr. Taylor said: “Gentlemen, ye’ve heard Mr. Barrie—I can answer for myself—with great satisfaction. I’ve been reading theMerqry” (an Edinburgh newspaper called theCaledonian Mercury) “and theScotsmanon this matter—thanks to Mr. Smith for it. I’ve mair time for readin’ than I once had, and I never was prouder o’ my country than when I read that abune[4]four hunder ministers had courage enough, and faith enough, and principle enough, to leave the Kirk when they saw that her birthricht was wrested frae her by the sec’lar power, and their consciences scandaleez’d by open defiance to the fundamental principles of the Christian economy. I needna tell you, gentlemen, that this leaving o’ the Kirk means loss o’ house and ha’, and way o’ livin’, or stipend as it’sca’d; an’ nae doubt there’s a sair heart in mony a minister’s breast, when he thinks o’ his family and them that depends on him. And nae wonder, for in that respect it’s a step in the dark,—a’ the eerier that he has his nearest and dearest on his back, and a wrang step might finish them a’.” Here Mr. Barrie winced, and emitted a sudden sound as if cold water had been poured on his back, which led Mr. Taylor to change his graphic style to one of practical application. “But no’ to detain ye, gentlemen, I for one side wi’ the Free Kirk, and will dae all in my power to back Mr. Barrie; and I hope and trust that the world’ll see that Scotland hasna lost the Covenanter’s spirit yet, and will countenance what I may ca’ the martyrs o’ her third Reformation, that have gi’en up sae much for their Maister’s sake, and never let them want a ‘competent portion of the good things of this life.’ ‘Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.’”

[4]Above.

Others expressed themselves to the same effect. The oldest man in the party, George Brown, verging on eighty years of age, a “Nathanael,” after a few words said, “Mr. Barrie, and Christian friends, I propose that we renew the Covenant.” He made the same proposal in one of the early Assemblies, althoughhis weak voice, and the unexpectedness and inexpediency of the motion, prevented its being taken up.

It was resolved, on Mr. Barrie’s suggestion, to call a meeting of the parishioners for Saturday afternoon, so that he might have an opportunity of explaining the “Disruption” fully to all who would meet with him, and to let the meeting be known in the parish, so that there might be a good attendance. Mr. Barrie also said that, as he considered it inexpedient to conduct the Sabbath service in the (he called it for the first time) “old” church, he would on Sabbath preach on the Annie Green, a nice grassy common, with its banks sloping upwards in a fairly-sized semicircle, formed at a bend of the burn.

Before leaving the manse there was a service. The daylight had begun to fade; Mr. Barrie said that on that account we would sing what we all knew so well as not to need books, the 2d Paraphrase. As he read it, his voice faltered, and there was not a dry eye, or a throat without a lump in it, as it was sung. I give it in full below, although it must be familiar to nearly all of my readers, leaving them to judge of its singular applicability to the case:

“O God of Bethel! by whose handThy people still are fed;Who through this weary pilgrimageHast all our fathers led:“Our vows, our pray’rs, we now presentBefore thy throne of grace:God of our fathers! be the GodOf their succeeding race.“Through each perplexing path of lifeOur wand’ring footsteps guide;Give us each day our daily bread,And raiment fit provide.“O spread thy cov’ring wings around,Till all our wand’rings cease,And at our Father’s lov’d abodeOur souls arrive in peace.“Such blessings from thy gracious handOur humble pray’rs implore;And thou shalt be our chosen God,And portion evermore.”

“O God of Bethel! by whose handThy people still are fed;Who through this weary pilgrimageHast all our fathers led:

“O God of Bethel! by whose hand

Thy people still are fed;

Who through this weary pilgrimage

Hast all our fathers led:

“Our vows, our pray’rs, we now presentBefore thy throne of grace:God of our fathers! be the GodOf their succeeding race.

“Our vows, our pray’rs, we now present

Before thy throne of grace:

God of our fathers! be the God

Of their succeeding race.

“Through each perplexing path of lifeOur wand’ring footsteps guide;Give us each day our daily bread,And raiment fit provide.

“Through each perplexing path of life

Our wand’ring footsteps guide;

Give us each day our daily bread,

And raiment fit provide.

“O spread thy cov’ring wings around,Till all our wand’rings cease,And at our Father’s lov’d abodeOur souls arrive in peace.

“O spread thy cov’ring wings around,

Till all our wand’rings cease,

And at our Father’s lov’d abode

Our souls arrive in peace.

“Such blessings from thy gracious handOur humble pray’rs implore;And thou shalt be our chosen God,And portion evermore.”

“Such blessings from thy gracious hand

Our humble pray’rs implore;

And thou shalt be our chosen God,

And portion evermore.”

The prayer was impressive and devout, fervent in its cry for light and strength and grace, simple and reverent.

GEORGE BROWN.

After leaving the manse, the deputation walked slowly down the approach, old George Brown leaning on Mr. Taylor’s arm. When we reached the gate opening on the public road, George, who was in front, turned about, and when all had gathered round him, he said:

ALL THE TITHES.

“Freends, I’m an auld man, the auldest o’ ye a’, and I thank God I’ve lived to see this day. I’ve lang mourned o’er the backslidings and defections o’ our times, but the Lord has made bare His holy arm. This is the day of His merciful visitation.I’ll say to you as Moses said to Joshua, ‘Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the Lord thy God, He it is that doth go with thee; He will not fail thee, nor forsake thee; fear not, neither be dismayed.’ Dinna turn your back in the day of battle, like the sons of Ephraim; dinna abide by the bleatings of the sheep, like Reuben, or remain in ships, like Dan; abune a’, dinna provoke the curse of Meroz for not coming to the help of the Lord against the mighty. Mind, when things werena as they should have been in the days o’ Haggai, when men lived in their ceiled houses and let the house o’ the Lord lie waste, that they sowed much but brocht in little, when neither their meat nor their drink nourished them, and even their vera claes werena warm. Their wages were putten into a bag wi’ holes, and the Lord blew on what did grow; an’ the drouth[5]spoilt their corn, an’ wine, an’ oil, an’ men, an’ cattle, an’ a’ the labour o’ their hands; and they had blastin’, an’ mildew, an’ hail. But frae the vera day, the four-and-twentieth day o’ the ninth month, even from the day that the foundation o’ the Lord’s temple was laid—frae that vera day the Lord blessed them wi’ plenty, an’ scattered their faes, and made them as a signet—thatI take to be a finger-ring, aye in His sicht. We hae gude reason to believe that the Lord’s time to favour Zion has come. He’s sitting like a refiner of silver, purifying the sons of Levi. Dinna rob Him in tithes and offerings, or He’ll curse us wi’ a curse; but oh, my freends, bring a’ the tithes into the store-house,—the tithe o’ pious hearts and godly zeal, an’ prayer, an’ brotherly love, an’ charity, an’ works o’ faith, an’ labours o’ love, and worldly goods—a’ the tithes; dinna keep back pairt o’ the price, as ye would escape the fate o’ Ananias and Sapphira. And if we a’ dae our pairt, the Lord will prove true to His promise, an’ open the windows o’ heaven, and pour out a blessing till there’s no room to receive it; and ours will be a delightsome land—no more desolate and forsaken, but Hephzibah and Beulah, which means ‘Delighted in,’ and ‘Married.’”

[5]Drought.

There was something of the old prophet in the good man, as he “lifted up his voice and testified.” An interesting conversation followed, in which present duty was discussed, and each resolved to help the good cause. Before leaving the avenue, under the shade of the two limes which graced its entrance, without previous concert, but as if moved by a simultaneous influence, we uncovered andlooked toold George. He quite understood the look, and feelingthe impulse, he engaged in prayer. His words had the rich unction of Christian experience; they lifted us up for the time until we felt as if inside the audience-chamber; he spoke as one speaks to a father and friend; it was not wrestling, it was more like Hezekiah’s spreading out the letter of the Assyrian captain before the Lord in the temple. The close of the prayer for light and direction was fervent,—that every one of us may ask, “Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?” and do it with all our might, as good soldiers, and good servants, and good stewards. During the prayer was heard an occasional “amen,” and there was a unanimous “amen” at its close, a very uncommon thing in such exercises in Scotland.

All had shaken hands with George, and were bidding good-bye to each other, when George said: “My freends, I’m gaun to ask a favour. I am a descendant of John Brown o’ Priesthill, the carrier that was shot by Claverhouse. I hae his Bible and Psalm-book, and table and arm-chair. I wad like them to be used at the Annie Green on Sabbath by Mr. Barrie. They hae served the same purpose wi’ Cameron and Peden and MacMillan in the covenantin’ times, and I think the blood o’ the martyrs is noo springing into the seed of the Church.”

“Certainly,” was the unanimous reply.

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