CHAPTER VI.

THE DISRUPTION AND BLINKBONNY.

“Long, long be my heart with such memories filled,As the vase in which roses have once been distilled;You may break, you may ruin the vase if you will,But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.”Thomas Moore.

“Long, long be my heart with such memories filled,

As the vase in which roses have once been distilled;

You may break, you may ruin the vase if you will,

But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.”

Thomas Moore.

NOTICE of the meeting that had been resolved on in the manse was given in the village and parish, chiefly by one telling another of it; and so effectively was this done, that not a few who had given the day to the work of announcing it, felt disappointed at finding the news had preceded them.

Before the hour of meeting there was an unusual bustle in the streets, even for a Saturday, and the folks seemed all to have on their Sabbath-day clothes. As soon as the doors of the Beltane Hall, the public hall of Blinkbonny, were opened, a stream of people flowed into it, leaving the streets with scarcely a human being on them. Mr. Barrie entered very fully intothe history of the “Ten Years’ Conflict.” He was calm, self-possessed, and impressive. His references to the opposite side were marked by caution and Christian courtesy. When speaking of himself, he did so with great modesty; but he was high in his praise of the leaders of the movement, and of the determined attitude they maintained against all interference with the rights of the Christian people, for these alone were the true Christian Church. He pressed on the attention of all the duty of considering prayerfully the whole question; that they should not be influenced by any motive of mere human friendship or partiality or partisanship, but should bring the light of Scripture and conscience to bear on the path of duty, and walk in it and along it through good and bad report.

Before concluding, he thanked them all for their presence and manifest attention to his statement, and most touchingly for all their loving kindnesses to him: “As the minister of the Established Church of Blinkbonny, I must now say to you ‘Farewell,’ but I fervently add the prayer, ‘The God of peace be with you.’ By whatever distinctive name the Churches to which we shall henceforth belong may be called, may we all be members of the ‘Church of the firstborn, whose names are written in the Lamb’s book of life,’ and be found in Him here, complete in Him, and forever with Him yonder; and as we have this hope in us, let us, as far as we are agreed, walk by the same rule, mind the same thing, and live at peace one with another.”

RING IN THE NEW.

He then told that he did not feel himself at liberty to occupy his old pulpit next day; that as far as he knew, no one had been appointed to preach in it; but that he would preach on the green by the burn-side at the usual hour in the forenoon, and at six o’clock in the evening. And he hoped hisformer(with a slight hesitation on his part, and a responsive sigh from the meeting) congregation would join in the service, and not be deterred by the fear that their presence would be construed as committing them to his views of the Church question. No such conclusion would be drawn. He would endeavour by God’s help to preach the gospel. Let them come to hearit, not him. He also expressed a willingness to answer any questions, or give further explanations, or to confer with any who might prefer a private interview.

There was a long silence; at length old George Brown rose and said: “My friends, it’s Saturday nicht. Mr. Barrie’s haen a sair week, an’ doubtless mony o’ ye hae come here this day upon account o’ the occasion, when but for it ye wad hae been at hame at your proper duties; and ye’ll a’ hae to get things weelforrit[6]to get to ordinances the morn, so I think we’ll be maist in the way o’ our duty if we think weel aboot what we’ve heard, and meditate on it.” Then looking round the audience, he asked, “What say ee, my friends?” As there was no reply, George looked to Mr. Barrie, and said, “I think, sir, ye should just conclude wi’ praise and prayer; and if I may venture, I would say, gie oot the Forty-third Psalm an’ the 3d verse. If we all sing the first four lines frae theheart, there will be a time o’ refreshin’ the morn.”

[6]Forward.

“O send thy light forth and thy truth;Let them be guides to me,And bring me to thine holy hill,Ev’n where thy dwellings be.”

“O send thy light forth and thy truth;

Let them be guides to me,

And bring me to thine holy hill,

Ev’n where thy dwellings be.”

READIN’ THE LINE.

George was unmarried, and lived by himself. He was in the constant practice of making worship aloud and alone, reading each verse singly and then singing it. He, without waiting for Mr. Barrie “giein’ out” the psalm, and as if quite forgetful of his presence, started to sing it to the tune called “Bedford,” which the audience very heartily joined in. At the close of the first verse George held up one hand to secure silence, and repeated in singing tone on one key the next verse,—what my older readers will remember as “reading the line,”—which was then sung,and so on to the end of the psalm. George was then proceeding to close his eyes for the prayer, after having made a slight bow to Mr. Barrie; but Mr. Barrie said, “Lead our devotions, if you please, Mr. Brown;” and the old man did this so as to make every heart thrill, and many strong men sob, and all the women cry. I was too much agitated to be able to carry away much. I am sorry to confess that the bit I can best recall is not the most impressive and solemn part, but rather a bit memorable for its quaintness as a specimen of the prayers of the earlier days of the old worthies: “That all who on the coming Sabbath assemble in the courts of Thy house may be delivered from formality, and legality, and carnality, purged from the leaven of malice and wickedness, and prepared according to the preparation of the sanctuary; ... and that all Thy sent servants may be ministers of the true tabernacle, which the Lord pitched, and not man, and may be as the he-goats before the flocks.”

Mr. Barrie pronounced the benediction, but the audience seemed unwilling to break up. At length old George stepped forward and shook Mr. Barrie’s hand, wishing him “the blessing of him that was separated from his brethren.” This proved contagious: every one shook hands with Mr. Barrie; even Bell, who had been trying to keep herself concealed duringthe meeting, forgot her reserve, and although she broke down immediately after, and sobbed bitterly, she kept saying between the sobs, “The arrow of the Lord’s deliverance;—the bush burning but not consumed;—the five loaves and the two small fishes.”

As she went out, old George Brown was at her side, and everybody that could get near him was shaking his horny hands. He had overheard Bell saying, “It is good for us to be here.” George knew Bell well, and taking her hand he said, “Yes, Bell, ’deed is’t. Or ever I was aware, my soul made me like the chariots of Amminadab.” Then looking heavenwards: “Return, return, O Shulamite; return, return, that we may look upon thee. What will ye see in the Shulamite? As it were the company of two armies—or, as it’s in the margin, Mahanaim, the place where the angels met Jacob on his way back to Canaan, and Jacob said, ‘This is God’s host, and he called the name of that place Mahanaim.’”

One subject filled every heart on the way homewards. There was little said; they mused, and the fire burned.

THE BELLMAN’S DILEMMA.

Sabbath morning brought promise of a lovely summer day, and the promise was not belied. Gavin Sinclair, or “Guy,” now the full beadle, sexton, bellman, and minister’s man of Blinkbonny, was in a stateof great perplexity. Annie Gawdie, who cleaned the church, had told him that just as she was finished on Saturday night, everybody came “troopin’ into the kirk to take awa’ their books, an’ spoke o’ coming in soon to take away their cushions and stools; that they had made a bonnie mess o’ her clean kirk, and when she quarrelled them for it, they said there was to be nae kirk in the morn, but Mr. Barrie was to preach on the Annie Green.”

Guy had not gone to the meeting. He was a cautious man, and “didna think it became the like o’ him, being a man in a public capacity, to meddle wi’ kirk quarrels; for although Mr. Barrie micht leave the kirk,—the mair’s the pity, for we’ll no’ soon get ane like him, if ever,—there was the kirkyard. Ane didna ken how soon they micht hae to break the gr’und for some death or anither in the parish. He didna like to gi’e offence to ony side—he had to look till his bread,” etc.

Guy’s difficulty was whether to ring the church bell or not. He always rung it at ten o’clock, and would do that as usual,—“That wasna the bell for gaun to the kirk—it was just to let folk ken the richt time to set their clocks by.” His “swither” was about the ringing of the bell for calling the folk to the kirk at the usual time. If, as he learned, there“was to be no sermon in the kirk, what for should he ring the bell? Then, on the ither hand, what business had he to stop the ringing o’ the bell without orders? and wha was to direct him? Would he ask Mr. Barrie, or the schoolmaster, who was session-clerk? He never did that before, and it would look officious.” So he resolved to go on as usual. He rang the bell at ten o’clock, and sauntered, as was his wont, to the manse to ask if there were any orders for him, such as to make preparations for a baptism; but instead of going into the kitchen, he hovered about the door until Bell observed him. Bell was full of activity to get all ready that she might go to the Annie Green, and had forgotten about Guy’s regular call. Both were perplexed. Guy muttered, he wondered if there “would be ony orders for him the day—she micht ask the minister—if—if he—if he had ony—ony special—” Then a happy idea seemed to strike him, and he got out—“onything to get ready before bell-time?”

GUY’S DECISION.

Bell took in the situation at once, but had not time to master it. Generally the pulpit Bible and Psalm-book were put on the parlour table on Sabbath mornings, ready for Guy, and Bell got instructions about anything specially wanted. They were not on the table, but in the study, which Bell never enteredbefore church time. She asked Mrs. Barrie, who answered that there could be nothing. Bell lingered, and said in a distant tone, “I think, mem, that Guy disna ken whether to ring the bell at kirk-time or no’.”

Mrs. Barrie hesitated a little whether to disturb Mr. Barrie or not, then said, “Tell Guy to please himself; that Mr. Barrie left no orders, and I cannot disturb him at present, but will ask him at half-past eleven and let Guy know what he says.”

At half-past eleven, as usual, Mrs. Barrie tapped at the study door, and said, “Now, my dear.” Mr. Barrie almost immediately came out, and she asked him about the bell, lifting up at the same time the simple Geneva pulpit gown worn by Presbyterian ministers, to help him on with it. Mr. Barrie did not turn and stoop a little as usual to get the robe of office put on, but kept saying,

“Bell—ring the bell—I had not thought of that. What do you think, Mary?”

Mrs. Barrie said she had told Guy to do as he thought fit, unless he got other instructions,—“the best thing that could have been done in the circumstances.”

Guy did ring the bell as usual, and got a neighbour to tell any who came that the service was to be onthe Annie Green. The herald, however, had little to do. A few slipped quietly into the church for their pew Bibles; some paid their weekly visit to the graves of their loved ones around the church; but the stream was towards the Annie Green. About a dozen male figures stood around the church door when the bell ceased; the stream had passed; not a straggler was in the churchyard. After a general conversation they broke up; some went to the Annie Green, others moodily and wonderingly homewards.

I had arranged with George Brown to get his ancestor’s chair, table, and books brought to my place on Saturday evening, and persuaded him to stay with me till Monday. I had also told Mr. Barrie about them. The incident pleased him, and touched him not a little. All forms, chairs, and available seats were brought by willing hands to the Annie Green early in the forenoon. The Priesthill relics were placed nearest the burn, the forms and chairs in front, and the dry grassy braes of the burn, which at the place had the form of an irregular half-circle sloping gently upwards, afforded comfortable room for a large congregation.

UNDER THE OPEN CANOPY.

Long before the hour of meeting, the country folks began to come in, going from “strength to strength.” Many lingered about the old church and churchyard,and on the road or sward leading to the place of meeting. Mr. Barrie left the manse in time to walk leisurely. His plain black Geneva gown, his handsome figure, his

“Aspect manly, grave, and sage.As on king’s errand come,”

“Aspect manly, grave, and sage.

As on king’s errand come,”

gave solemnity to the scene. Mrs. Barrie leant on his arm. Each led one of the younger children by the hand, whilst Bell followed with the two older ones. As soon as they entered the avenue, the word, “There he is—there they are,” passed from lip to lip; and when they came to the public road, and as they walked along it, the people stepped aside and stood hat in hand till they had passed, then falling in behind, formed an irregular procession to the green. Those who had already gathered there all rose up and uncovered as Mr. Barrie appeared. When the audience had got seated or settled, Mr. Barrie opened the service by reading the 125th Psalm, which he did in a firm, clear voice. The braes of the burn, the glen, the neighbouring woods, and for a considerable distance the country around, heard the sound of grave, sweet melody, rising in volume and intensity as it proceeded. The tune was “St. Andrew’s,” an old favourite, and said by tradition to be associated in early Scottish Reformation times with the same words:

“They in the Lord that firmly trustShall be like Sion hill,Which at no time can be remov’d,But standeth ever still.“As round about JerusalemThe mountains stand alway,The Lord his folk doth compass so,From henceforth and for aye.”

“They in the Lord that firmly trustShall be like Sion hill,Which at no time can be remov’d,But standeth ever still.

“They in the Lord that firmly trust

Shall be like Sion hill,

Which at no time can be remov’d,

But standeth ever still.

“As round about JerusalemThe mountains stand alway,The Lord his folk doth compass so,From henceforth and for aye.”

“As round about Jerusalem

The mountains stand alway,

The Lord his folk doth compass so,

From henceforth and for aye.”

GRAVE, SWEET MELODY.

All the services were impressive, but I will not attempt to detail them. The text was, “Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever.” The sermon was, in the opinion of all, the best sermon they had ever heard from him. George Brown was delighted with it—characterized it as “a feast of fat things full of marrow, of wines on the lees well refined;” and all the more so that Mr. Barrie’s practice had hitherto been to have his carefully prepared manuscript before him when preaching, and to use it occasionally, while on this occasion all that he had was the open Priesthill Bible. The only objection that George ever had to Mr. Barrie was that he used “the paper;” read sermons were, according to George, neither good for minister nor people. To-day there was nothing to mar George’s enjoyment of the worship. The concluding paraphrase was sung with even more enthusiasm. It was the 48th Paraphrase, verses 6–9; the tune was “Montrose,” sometimes called “the burghers’ rant.” I give it in full, as I did the one sung in the manse,and my readers can imagine the vigour with which such words were sung in such a meeting at such a crisis:—

“Who then can e’er divide us moreFrom Jesus and his love,Or break the sacred chain that bindsThe earth to heav’n above?“Let troubles rise, and terrors frown,And days of darkness fall;Through him all dangers we’ll defy,And more than conquer all.“Nor death nor life, nor earth nor hell,Nor time’s destroying sway,Can e’er efface us from his heart,Or make his love decay.“Each future period that will bless,As it has bless’d the past;He lov’d us from the first of time,He loves us to the last.”

“Who then can e’er divide us moreFrom Jesus and his love,Or break the sacred chain that bindsThe earth to heav’n above?

“Who then can e’er divide us more

From Jesus and his love,

Or break the sacred chain that binds

The earth to heav’n above?

“Let troubles rise, and terrors frown,And days of darkness fall;Through him all dangers we’ll defy,And more than conquer all.

“Let troubles rise, and terrors frown,

And days of darkness fall;

Through him all dangers we’ll defy,

And more than conquer all.

“Nor death nor life, nor earth nor hell,Nor time’s destroying sway,Can e’er efface us from his heart,Or make his love decay.

“Nor death nor life, nor earth nor hell,

Nor time’s destroying sway,

Can e’er efface us from his heart,

Or make his love decay.

“Each future period that will bless,As it has bless’d the past;He lov’d us from the first of time,He loves us to the last.”

“Each future period that will bless,

As it has bless’d the past;

He lov’d us from the first of time,

He loves us to the last.”

Not the least surprising of the forenoon’s incidents was the amount of the collection. It had been debated whether there should be any made on the occasion, but Mr. Taylor was most determined to have one. “Bring an offering with you,” said he, “is as plain a command as, Come into His courts;” and he undertook to provide and to stand at “the plates,” which were placed just inside the gate of the Annie Green. The result surprised Mr. Taylor. I have since learned that many borrowed of their neighbours, and that the amount put in as the congregation retired waslarger than that made as they entered. The sum was £29, 13s. 3d.

George, of course, took dinner with us, and a few country friends joined who wished to be at the evening service. I had been struck with the worn appearance of the knees of George’s clothes compared with the fresh “nap” on the other parts; but I observed that, when asking a blessing before meat, and returning thanks after it, he rubbed his hands firmly over his knees, moving his body backwards and forwards, and speaking louder as he began the forward motion. His exercises were longer than are usual in such cases, and I found on further acquaintance with him that they were stereotyped, generally containing, “May we go up through the wilderness of this world, leaning on the staff of Him who is the beloved of our souls. May we sit under His shadow with great delight, and find His fruit sweet unto our taste. Bless and sanctify all Thy ways and dealings towards us,” etc. When remarking on the sermon, he also rubbed his knees and discoursed rather than conversed about it.

The evening service was better attended than the forenoon one. The burst of music was overpowering as the 46th Psalm was being sung:—

“God is our refuge and our strength,In straits a present aid,” etc.

“God is our refuge and our strength,

In straits a present aid,” etc.

FREE-WILL OFFERINGS.

The sermon was from these words, “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.” It was a grand sermon, suitable for all times. At the close, in a few moderately worded sentences, Mr. Barrie referred to the special circumstances under which they had met, and stated that they would meet in the same place next Sabbath, the first Sabbath of June, the anniversary of the battle of Drumclog; and he waxed eloquent as he held up John Brown of Priesthill’s Bible, and referred to the other relics before him, until the audience felt the martyr spirit, and were sorry that he concluded so soon.

I have already referred to the singing of the day, and will only add that the singing of the concluding psalm—cxxii., verses 6–9, to the tune of “St. Paul’s”—

“Pray that Jerusalem may havePeace and felicity;Let them that love thee and thy peaceHave still prosperity”—

“Pray that Jerusalem may have

Peace and felicity;

Let them that love thee and thy peace

Have still prosperity”—

was grand. The evening’s collection made the day’s offering amount altogether to over £38. I have dwelt at more length than I intended on this subject, but it was a great event for a little place. Very possibly I have overdrawn the picture; but had you mingled with the companies of the worshippers asthey walked homewards, you would have heard Mr. Barrie’s oldest hearers say he never preached like that in his life before, and strangers that they had no idea that Mr. Barrie could preach like that,—“he was a man of immense ability,—the best sermon they had ever heard,—it’s a wonder he had been so long in Blinkbonny.”

FRIENDS IN DEED.

The attendance at the Annie Green on the first Sabbath of June was as large as on the previous Sabbath, and the services had special reference to the struggles of the Covenanters and the battle of Drumclog. Old George Brown was highly satisfied. “I have often,” said he, “spoken to Mr. Barrie about saying ower little about thae Cath’lics, and that he should raise his testimony against Prelacy and Popery; but he aye said that even if he was speakin’ to Cath’lics, he wad preach the plain gospel, an’ no scare them away by denouncin’ baith them an’ their system, or settin’ them against the truth by no’ speakin’ it in love; and for his ain people, it would ‘minister questions rather than godly edifying,’ as he thocht that runnin’ doon the Cath’lics was apt to make folk think because they werena Cath’lics that they were a’ richt, an’ beget spiritual pride. An’ he wasna far wrang. But his subject led himonthe day, and I was uncommon pleased to hear him speak as he did o’ theauld worthies, Knox and Melville, and Cameron an’ Peden, and my forbear Brown, an’ let this backslidin’, worldly-minded generation ken hoo far behint their ancestors they were in courage an’ piety, in thocht, word, an’ deed.”

There was a congregation of the United Secession, now the United Presbyterian, Church in Blinkbonny, and Mr. Morrison, the minister, and his session had generously offered to accommodate the Free Church, as far as lay in their power, with the use of their church, as the largest hall in the village was too small for the congregation. Mr. Morrison was a diligent student, conscientious and minute in his preparations for the pulpit: he wrote these carefully out, and spent the last two days of the week in committing them to memory. He was an estimable man, an excellent scholar, had been a great reader, and was well versed in general science; but he had an affluence of words and a Johnsonian style of composition that injured him as a preacher. His matter was good, sound, unexceptionable, but his manner of conveying it was verbose, often a mere recasting of the grand old English of the Bible into a laboured and profuse style of expression. He seldom used the terse old Saxon words if he could get a word of grander sound derived from another language, but used “plenitude”instead of “fulness,” “capacitate” for “fit,” and “salubrious” for “healthy.” His voice was good, but the long, involved sentences made it appear monotonous, and justified the critique of old Robert Gunn: “Vera gude matter, nae doubt, but tedious, a wee tedious. He has lang ‘heids,’[7]an’ disna aye gi’e them ower again in the same words, which fickles[8]the young folk that have to tell the ‘heids an’ particulars’ when they gang hame; for if, as is gey an’ often the case, the first ‘heid’ is, ‘The persons mentioned in the text,’ we’re almost sure to hear when he’s done with it, ‘Having thus considered, in the first place, the individuals to whom reference is made in the deeply interesting and highly instructive passage which I have selected as the subject of this morning’s exposition,’ which is baith confusin’ an’ tedious.”

[7]Divisions of a sermon.

[8]Puzzles.

CORN AND CHAFF.

The services in the “Meetin’-house,” the local name of the Secession Church, occupied without interval fully three hours, and included a lecture and a sermon of at least an hour each. In order to suit the Free Church, these were begun at ten o’clock, and ours at one. This put Mr. Morrison to the serious difficulty of condensing his services. For the first two Sabbaths he did not manage this. As he hadproposedthat the Free Church should meet atone o’clock, he was remonstrated with very plainly by some of his people. Robert Gunn, a forward “body,” had suggested the means: “Just dicht [sift] yer corn better, and leave less chaff in’t.”

On the third Sabbath he got through in about two hours and a half, and kept thereafter rather within that limit, although not without having often to say, “Did time permit, I would have proceeded,” etc., or, “The brief space of time at my disposal prevents me from entering on the full illustration of my next head, but I may say in a word—.” That was an ominous expression, and the result often proved it an inconsistent one, as the “word,” or “one word more,” seldom occupied less than fifteen minutes. “Lastly, and very briefly,” was another term contradicted by the sequel.

The shorter service was a comfortable change for those whose uneasy task it was to keep their children “behaving themselves” in the church. James Spence, whose regular remark to his neighbours on their road home had been, “He said a great deal, really he said a very great deal,” gave as his opinion that “he really thocht that there was less skailt noo that the kirk skailed sooner,[9]for even yet there was a great deal said that we couldna carry home, and mair thatwe didna carry oot; and wi’ the bairns no’ bein’ sae fashious through no’ bein’ sae lang in, we could attend better.”

[9]“There was less spilt now that the church was dismissed sooner.”

The Free Church services in the Meeting-house were well attended. Many of the Seceders joined in them, and confessed with shame that their sectarian bitterness towards the principle of a church establishment had extended to its ministers, on whom they had looked uncharitably as “Samaritans,” with whom they could have no dealings, and they were surprised to find Mr. Barrie so excellent. Maggie Gunn told her father “that yon minister preached as well as Mr. Morrison, only far better.” Mr. Barrie became a favourite with them; although, to the honour of all parties be it told, that no one left the Secession to join the Free Church on that account. Between Mr. Morrison and himself, as well as between the office-bearers and congregations, there existed the most cordial relationships, and the interchange of pleasant communion and fellowship. I look back with so much delight to the sympathy and help we got in the beginning of our way from our Secession friends, that I fear I have been, to use Robert Gunn’s phrase, “a wee tedious.”

THE NEW PARISH MINISTER.

Mr. Walker of Middlemoor was Mr. Barrie’s successor in the parish church of Blinkbonny. Inmaking application to Sir John McLelland for the living, he was very honest in telling his motives, viz. that the stipend was larger, and the manse and glebe were better; and his family were growing up, and he would like to get settled in a place where he could get openings for the older ones, schooling for the younger ones, and where they could all come home at night; and he would be very much obliged to Sir John if he would present him to Blinkbonny. And he was presented and inducted in due form and time.

He was a kind-hearted, stout, canny man, of moderate abilities as a scholar and preacher. His parish of Middlemoor was a small one, in a pastoral and moorland district, thinly peopled. It had a large glebe of indifferent land, which he cultivated diligently to eke out his small stipend. He was quite as good at farming as preaching, and had, on Mr. Barrie’s suggestion, been Bell’s adviser in the purchase or sale of cows, sheep, or pigs. Even on the subject of poultry he was at home, as he made his son keep a “hen journal,” partly as a lesson in book-keeping, and partly as a practical application of the inspired proverb, which was often in his mouth, “Be diligent to know the state of thy flocks, and look well to thy herds.”

He was a frequent visitor at Mr. Barrie’s, anoccasional “assistant” at the October communion services, and a regular member of the “thanksgiving” dinner-party at the manse on the Monday thereafter. He was a man of peace, and took little interest in the Voluntary, Disruption, or other controversies; and when these formed the subject of after-dinner discussion, he left the dining-room, and slowly betook himself to the kitchen for a smoke, for he was an inveterate smoker.

He looked relieved as he entered the kitchen; said, “Well, Bell;” dropt heavily into the arm-chair which stood at the fireside (the arms of which were barely wide enough to admit him, but they yielded with a creak, and he got in, but had to press them firmly down before he got out); took out his pipe—generally a short black one; knocked out the dottle[10]on the hob-plate; tried if it would draw, and if not, cleared the bowl with the point of his knife, and if that failed, asked Bell for a stalk of lavender. When the pipe was cleared to his mind, he slowly cut some thin slices from a roll of twist tobacco, rubbed the fragments between his hands, filled his pipe, put on the “dottle,” and applied the “spunk,” from which Bell had broken off the sulphur tip. All these operations and details were done with very great deliberation and in gravesilence, with the exception of asking the lavender stalk, which was only resorted to after the knife and the repeated blowings from the bowl and shank ends of the pipe had failed; and after it was fairly lighted and going well, he began an intermittent, congenial crack.

[10]The dry, crisp remains of a former smoke.

“THUS THINK AND SMOKE TOBACCO.”

Tobacco smoke Bell could not endure. No other person would have been permitted to pollute her kitchen with it, and as a general rule she got Mr. Walker to combine his inspection of the garden and glebe with “enjoyin’ his smoke;” but as this dinner-day came round she had to submit, so she provided against it by removing the hams and things of that sort, that they might not be “scomfished;” and she set herself to enjoy the leisurely preparations, and to respect the silence with which they were conducted, as the after-crack was sure to be quite to her mind.

At the last October dinner, after a few soothing whiffs, Mr. Walker began the colloquy with, “Bell, I’m glad to get away from these discussions about the Kirk; I cannot bear them. I like better to talk about live stock. How are yours?”

Bell entered heartily into an account of her year’s doings, and Mr. Walker listened approvingly, and in return told about his crops and herds, and what the “mairt” (the animal which had been killed and saltedfor winter use) had weighed, and how the hens, bees, etc. had done—alternately speaking and smoking. I cannot give the interview in detail, but both agreed they had had a grand crack—better than ony kirk quarrels.

It was from the following story, which Mr. Walker then told, that Bell had first heard of the Church “question;” but his way of putting it was so conclusive to Bell, that she thought no more about it until the matter of the potatoes brought it home to herself.

A lady from Leith had come to reside in Middlemoor, and had said to the farmer of Hillend, who had accosted her with, “Weel, mem, hoo d’ye like to bide in this moorland country?”

“Very much indeed, it’s delightful! If I had only my own doctor and my own minister, I would stay here all the year through; but you know your country doctors are not quite—quite—well—well enough in their way, but notquitelike the town doctors; and the ministers areverynice—” This she said in a hesitating undertone, not expressive of hearty concurrence, and ended in a firmer voice, “but not like my own.”

“’Deed, mem,” said Hillend, “gi’e us farmers a gude miller an’ a gude smith, an’ we can do weel enough wi’ ony ministers or doctors that likes to come.”

“That wasna bad for Hillend,” said Bell.

“Well, Bell,” said Mr. Walker, “I thought it rather hard on the ministers when I first heard the story, but—” And here he gave his views of the Non-Intrusionists with, for him, unusual fervour, and added, “NowI quite agree with Hillend, that congregations should accept, and welcome, and honour the ministers who are appointed over them.”

“That’s without a doubt,” said Bell; “and esteem them very highly for their work’s sake.”

“AS YOU LIKE IT.”

The news of Mr. Walker’s appointment to Blinkbonny was received with first a stare, then a shrug of the shoulders, then a pretty general feeling that “they might have had worse.” He was certainly not a shining light, but he was a nice man, had a large family, and it would be a good change for them. And although the local poetaster circulated a sorry effusion on the subject, in which he, without acknowledgment, stole from Cowper’sNeedless Alarm,—

“A mutton statelier than the rest,”—

and—

“His loving mate and true,But more discreet than he, aMoorlandewe,”—

“His loving mate and true,

But more discreet than he, aMoorlandewe,”—

changing the original “Cambrian” to “Moorland,” it did not take, and Blinkbonny on its personal andsocial and “soft” side was ready to “entertain” Mr. Walker.

He carried the news of his own appointment to the manse, and although it surprised Mr. Barrie at the moment, he heartily wished him every success and comfort, and added that he would find the manse at his service by the time he was inducted. Mr. Walker assured Mr. Barrie that there was no hurry, as “he did not see that they could possibly come in until after the harvest was past at Middlemoor.”

JEWS AND BRITHERS.

When Bell heard that Mr. Walker was coming to Blinkbonny, she forgot her usual good manners. “Mr. Walker!—Walker o’ Middlemoor!—fat Walker’s gotten the kirk, has he? He’s a slow coach—pity the folk that gangs to hear him; but ’deed they’ll no’ mony gang. He minds me o’ Cauldwell’s speech at the cattle show. After Sir John palavered away about the grand stock, and praised Cauldwell for gettin’ sae money prizes, the decent man just said, ‘Sir John and gentlemen, thank ye a’ kindly. I’m nae hand o’ makin’ a speech. I may be a man among sheep, but I’m a sheep among men.’” And Bell showed how changeable human affections are; for although Mr. Walker and she had been hand-and-glove friends, she summed up with, “Mr. Walker will never fill Mr. Barrie’s shoon [shoes]. I never couldthole[11]him an’ his filthy tobacco smoke. Ugh! ma puir kitchen will sune be in a bonny mess; an’ I dinna ken what to think about the things in the garden an’ outhouses that areours, for, as Mrs. Walker ance said to me, her motto was, ‘Count like Jews and ’gree like brithers.’”

[11]Endure.

But when the settling up came, Bell found Mrs. Walker “easy dealt wi’,”—not only satisfied with her valuation, but very complimentary as to the state in which everything was left, and very agreeable—very.

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