:
MEMORIES
OF THE
MANSE
Anne
Breadalbane
COSY CORNER SERIES

THE LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY
OF THE
REGENTS
ARTIBUS.
OF
MINNESOTA
CLASS 812M225
BOOK
OM
MEMORIES OF THE MANSE

AMONG THE HILLS.
"Cosy Corner Series."
MEMORIES OF THE MANSE
Glimpses of Scottish Life and Character
BY
ANNE BREADALBANE, red, f
Quna Pan MacLeod
ILLUSTRATED

JKC
BOSTON
JOSEPH KNIGHT COMPANY
1895
Copyright, 1895,
BY JOSEPII KNIGHT COMPANY.
University Press :
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A.
812M225
ом
TO
E. W. B.,
of ConnecticUT, U. S. A., THESE SIMPLE RECORDS
OF A QUIET CORNER OF MY
OF MY FATHERLAND
ARE INSCRIBED WITH GRATEFUL LOVE.
911476
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
GLENARRAN.
•
THE MINISTER.,
•
CHAPTER II.
9
21
CHAPTER III.
THE
(6
SABBATH."
32
CHAPTER IV.
((
THE SABBATH."—Continued..
50
CHAPTER V.
THE
"SABBATH."—Continued..
59
CHAPTER VI.
WEEK DAYS.
69
CHAPTER VII.
WEEK DAYS.—Continued..
•
79
CHAPTER VIII.
"THE SACRAMENT.".
•
92
CHAPTER IX.
THE MINISTER'S ELDEST SON..
104
MEMORIES OF THE MANSE.
CHAPTER I.
GLENARRAN.
LET me recall thee, beautiful Glenar-
ran, as last I saw thee: nestling in thy
quiet bay; hills on right and left stretch-
ing far out to sea; thine islands, not un-
known in story, lying blue and misty in
the distance. To the north, the river
Arran mingled with the ocean. Beyond
it lay Arran Castle, a modern structure,
but looking hoary in the distance. On
the south, the hills near the town were
carefully cultivated. Oats grew on slopes
that were almost perpendicular, and po-
tatoes flourished on heights that to any
one but a highlander would have been
}
IO
Memories of the Manse.
言
​inaccessible. Even where cultivation
ceased, every spot of ground was still
utilized. The stunted but hardy grass of
the vicinity supported a breed of sheep
equally hardy and stunted. This pasture
land was broken up by chasms, bot-
tomless but for the sea, that, far down,
was heard surging hoarsely; and as the
chasms were numerous, and the sheep
possessed of supernatural agility, the of
fice of the stalwart shepherd of Raeburn
Head was no sinecure. Beneath the
hills, opening from the spacious beach,
were wonderful caves, each with its spe-
cial legend, often embodied in the name,
as "Samson's Banes " or the "Deil's Kail
"or
Pat;" and among the caves was the "Mer-
maid's Tryst," where a stream of pure
fresh water, trickling among the rocks,
had hollowed out for itself a circular
basin. There, according to local tradi-
tion, Lady Georgiana Clyde of the Castle
had seen a mermaid combing her hair;

A FISHER'S HUT.
AL
Glenarran.
II
and there, accordingly, the children of
Glenarran were wont on summer even-
ings to carry sundry bits of oat-cake or
barley scone, returning in the morning to
see how much the mermaid had eaten.
As the tide during the night covered
rocks and Tryst, it will be seen how the
mermaid, though a most romantic creat-
ure in herself, was regarded as possess-
ing a most unromantic appetite. Above
the cliffs was an ivy-covered ruin; and
here and there the hills were dotted with
a white farm-house or a shepherd's sheil-
ing.
Glenarran was, twenty years ago, but
a small fishing town. The old part of
it, lying close to the river, was almost ex-
clusively occupied by the fishermen and
their families; and, with its high, quaint,
stone houses overshadowing the narrow
streets, its groups of brawling women, its
children prematurely old, and its general
air of poverty and squalor, might, but
12
Memories of the Manse.
for the sails and nets and débris of fish
everywhere visible, have passed for a frag-
ment of the old town of Edinburgh. The
business streets were a connecting link
between the old town and the new. In
the latter were the handsome freestone
residences of the professional men and
richer shopkeepers. Here, too, were all
the churches-Established, Free, Baptist,
Christ's work was
Congregationalist
not as well understood in Glenarran then
as it has been since. The Church did not
venture into the Fisher-Biggins for disci-
ples; even a minister rarely went there,
except when summoned to a death-bed;
and it is needless to say that few from the
Fisher-Biggins cared, for any church's
sake, to parade their patches and rags in
the fashionable quarter. The gala event
of the old town was a funeral. That
seemed their revenge on those whom they
envied and hated as the “gentles,"—for
the only churchyard of Glenarran, though
Glenarran.
13
a quiet enough spot, was so situated that
even those who in life would have shunned
the Fisher-Biggins most, were carried to
their last resting-place through the very
midst of its wretchedness. So that every
funeral procession, however it might be
headed, was sure to be brought up by a
crowd of idlers, who, not gaining admit-
tance into the inclosure, peered through
the gate or clustered on the ruined wall;
and, though the awe that in Scotland in-
vests everything connected with death
generally kept them silent while the inter-
ment was going on, it was seldom that the
mourners were allowed to escape without
a low jibe or threat, as, "Eh, man! ye'll
be a bonny corp yersel yet;" or, "Auld
Luckie 'll mak braw wark wi' yer deid
bairn the nicht!'
We have mentioned several churches.
That with which we have to do had been
originally connected with a body-the
majority of whom had, some years before
14
Memories of the Manse.
our records begin, united with the Free
Church. The small minority in Glenar-
ran who had refused to accede to this
change were loud in abusing those who
did. Not satisfied with the temporal
measures undertaken to recover the church
property, they denounced their lately-
revered minister as a priest of Baal, and
compared the first sacramental occasion
after the union to Belshazzar's impious
feast. In return, the minister laughed
quietly, and the more ambitious of the
congregation planned a new edifice that
should not only take the place of the old
when fate should dispossess them of it,
but that should eclipse the other Free
church. Meantime, fate and the architect
were alike slow. The plans had as yet
no place on anything so substantial as
paper even, and matters went on in the
old church and manse as quietly as though
no change had ever been contemplated.
These buildings, although nominally
Glenarran.
15
belonging to the new town, were, locally,
as closely connected with the old. They
were situated on the extreme north of
the town, as near the sea as it was safe
for any building to be. A short walk
eastward led to the aristocratic quarter;
an equally short and far pleasanter walk
on the beach led northward to the Fisher-
Biggins The church and manse were of
moderate size and joined each other at
right angles. Their material was rough
stone, plastered with lime and gravel,
and kept dazzlingly white. The quad-
rangle partially inclosed by the buildings
was divided into three inclosures, known
respectively as the hen-yard, the inner
garden, and the outer garden. From the
first of these the congregation had been
in the habit of turning an honest penny
by letting it to a widow who kept cows;
and its present possession by the minister
was justly regarded by Jean, the old ser-
vant, as a triumph of her diplomacy.
16
Memories of the Manse.
The minister's hobby-and a very excus-
able one, considering his narrow income.
-was vegetables; Jean's weakness was
hens. But the hens and vegetables not
agreeing, the minister had declared that
Jean's pets must go. Jean, however, was
a woman of resources. Capturing her
favorites, she sewed on each a pair of
cloth shoes, and then liberated them,
with a defiant "Scratch noo, wull ye!"
But it was a short-lived defiance. The
hens were hens of spirit, and had made
up their minds to scratch or die; and, as
scratching had been rendered impossible
for them, die they did. Then Jean, going
about among the neighbors, raised such a
hue and cry about the minister having
never a fresh egg for breakfast, that the
widow's cows were quietly turned out
and the key of the inclosure handed over
to the minister. The inner garden was
devoted indiscriminately to grass, vege-
tables and beds of old-fashioned flowers,

SEA AND SHORE.
Glenarran.
17
Bees
with narrow gravel walks between.
hummed through all the long summer
days among the wall-flowers and pinks
and daisies and columbines, and many an
old woman gathered there her Sunday
sprig of southern-wood or Balm-of-Gilead.
The outer garden was only a grassy
slope, bordered with the inevitable pota-
toes, and having in the far-off corner a
summer-seat. The garden wall, low
within, was on the outside eighteen feet
high; for it was so near the sea that
when the great storm-tides came even
the flowers in the inner garden were cov-
ered with flakes of foam.
The manse was divided into small,
irregularly-shaped rooms-the oddest the
study, which was like a zigzag passage of
no particular shape. Its walls were lined
with books, whose exterior was generally
as uninviting to the eye as was their
theology to the natural man; and here
and there among the book-shelves were
2
18
Memories of the Manse.
set wooden medallions, bearing, in
tarnished gold, texts of Scripture-most
of them of a denunciatory character-for-
in those days the terrors of the Law were
wielded far more frequently than the at-
tractions of the Gospel. The lower hall
and first flight of stairs were of stone,
blackened and polished. Above and
below, the rooms were few and small, and
plainly, some of them even poorly, fur-
nished; and the attics enjoyed the repu-
tation of being haunted.
As for the church-one glance at it,
without or within, would have been the
death of Ruskin. Gothic had evidently
Gothic had
been Greek to its architect. The building
itself was large and square, the windows
and doors small and square; the main
passage ran the wrong way, and a ma-
hogany-colored gallery was supported on
blue pillars. The pulpit, with its sound-
ing-board, reached nearly to the ceiling.
Under it was the precentor's box. And
Glenarran.
19
still lower, yet much elevated above the
body of the church, was a railed inclosure
for the elders. Opposite the pulpit, the
"table-seats," used for sacramental occa-
sions, ran the whole length, or rather
breadth, of the church. Raised pews,
with hangings of divers colors, were dis-
tributed here and there. At first, there
had been but one of these-that appropri-
ated to the minister's family. But, in
process of time, an aristocratic lawyer, the
great man of the congregation, had had
his pew elevated and his dignity brought
into bold relief by a fiery background.
Then a well-to-do grocer, who had risen
from small beginnings and was propor-
tionately ambitious, had imitated the
lawyer; and the carpenter, having his
hand in, had imitated the grocer. Lastly,
"wee Johnnie" the dwarf, who was
gardener-in-general to Glenarran, had had
his pew in the back part of the gallery
raised and hung; and there he sat, Sun-
כ
20
Memories of the Manse.
day after Sunday, his great head the only
part visible, looking like a huge gargoyle.
The congregation had laughed in their
sleeve at the grocer, and had openly ex-
pressed their indignation at the carpen-
ter; but about the dwarf every one felt
that there was nothing to be said-only,
after that, no more pews were hung.
CHAPTER II.
THE MINISTER.
THE father of the Reverend Donald
Douglas was a small farmer in the south
of Scotland. Though tilling with his
own hands the few acres that he rented,
and having a constant struggle to make
both ends meet, he had managed to give
his three sons such advantages that each
had risen far above his original position
in life. John, the eldest, was an at-
torney in Edinburgh; Colin, a prosperous
business man in Australia; and Donald,
the cleverest and most thoroughly edu-
cated of the three, minister of Glenarran.
As far as pecuniary circumstances were
concerned, the last could scarcely be said
to have mended his fortune. The humble
abode of his father had not been more
intimately acquainted with poverty than
22
Memories of the Manse.
the Manse was; and the
thatched
cottage, consisting of only a "but" and
a “ben," had not been under the painful
necessity of keeping up a genteel appear-
ance.
Yet the minister doubtless had his
compensation. I saw it stated once, in
some American newspaper, that the
Scottish clergy generally are not highly
regarded by their people. And in a sub-
sequent number of the same journal I
saw this statement indignantly contra-
dicted, and the assertion made that Scot-
land is the most "priest-ridden" country
under the sun!
Now, to me, the relation between
Scottish ministers and their flocks seems
particularly happy. The former, un-
doubtedly, possess great influence, but
would be the first to deprecate the ex-
tension of that influence beyond its
proper sphere. And the latter, con-
scientiously believing that the province
The Minister.
23
of the minister is to rebuke as well as to
exhort, to counsel as well as to comfort,
do not easily take umbrage. Changes
in the pastoral relation are thus com-
paratively rare. A faithful minister is
looked upon as a gift from the Lord,
and a congregation does not expect for
the magnificent sum of a hundred and
fifty pounds a year to receive an angel
from heaven.
His
Mr. Douglas, at the time our records
begin, was about fifty years of age.
portly figure was about the medium
height. His head was entirely bald on the
top; but the hair, where it remained, was
black, crisp and curly-though in the
closely trimmed side whiskers it was quite
gray. The features, though large, were
clearly cut, forming a fine profile. The
lower jaw was square, the mouth firm;
the keen, gray eyes could be by turns
threatening and tender.
was fresh and ruddy.
The complexion
Altogether, it was
7
24
Memories of the Manse.
a face one could not carelessly pass. The
minister's appearance of bodily vigor was
hardly lessened by a very marked lame-
ness, the result of an injury in childhood.
Indeed, so thoroughly was the "halt" of
Mr. Douglas a part of himself, that those
who knew him never thought of it as a
defect, while to the children it was a part
of their father's greatness and glory. So
that, when they "played church," they
generally chose for minister not the best
preacher, but the one who, in walking
along the imaginary aisle and climbing
into the improvised pulpit, could most
exactly imitate the minister's gait. The
matter was settled by the little girls thus:
"Kenneth can pray best, but Don can
halt best; so Don can be minister, and
call on Kenneth to pray."
Mr. Douglas was a man whose nature
it was to rule all that came within his in-
fluence. That he governed more by fear
than love, was due partially to the place
The Minister.
25
and time in which he lived. A stern
father and a stern pastor, with his chil-
dren and congregation he had but one
rule: perfect obedience, or punishment.
For the refractory child who had neglect-
ed his weekly portion of catechism, there
was the rod, or rather the tawes; for the
older offender there was church discipline.
In both cases vengeance was equally cer-
tain and swift. Forgiveness, indeed,
would be eventually given, and most
graciously, but not till the last drop of
the punishment had been wrung out.
And not the least part of the minister's
triumph was the fact that, no matter what
feelings of rebellion and hatred had been
nourished toward him during punishment,
the conversation that followed was sure
not only to soften the offender, but to
confirm him more fully in his allegiance.
If sincerity were the test of right, no
one could have questioned the wisdom of
the minister's course. A doubt never en-
26
Memories of the Manse.
tered his mind.
Subtle distinctions be-
tween what was right and what was ex-
pedient were to him idle sophistry. No
pope ever spoke with more authority;
no priest of the house of Aaron ever
more fully identified his own will and the
will of God. And though regulating the
minutest details of domestic economy, he
never seemed to lower himself, but to
elevate the details. His power owed
nothing to externals,- the shabby clothes
and rusty black stock that he wore in the
house taking nothing from the weight of
his reproof, as the jet-black Sunday suit
and white neckcloth added nothing to it.
And, more highly favored than any pope,
his utterances to those concerned were
always ex cathedra, whether expounding
some abstruse doctrinal point or settling
the cat's allowance of porridge. "Eh,
man!" said one poor soul who had been
before the kirk session and had the worst
of it, "what a Bonyparty he wad hae
The Minister.
27
made!"
"The auld fule body!" said
Jean, indignantly, on hearing the intend-
ed compliment, "gin he could na liken
him to Cameron or ane o' the Lord's ane,
could he no hae thocht o' the Juke
(Duke)? I'd hae him afore the session
again for misca'in' the minister!"
It may be thought that under so strict
a rule no children could be happy, and
that in the Manse floggings must have
been the order of the day. But Mr.
Douglas was as exact in explaining his
requirements as in punishing breaches of
them; and obedience, though difficult,
was by no means impossible. Moreover,
when matters went smoothly, Mr. Doug-
las was the most genial of men, and his
best manners were for his own fireside.
The thousand anxieties his poverty en-
tailed on him, the children never knew.
The old clothes were worn without a
murmur; the breakfast of porridge and
milk, or dinner of barley broth and oat-
X
28
Memorics of the Manse.
cake, had a seasoning of thankfulness,
and cheerfulness, and pleasant talk, that
many a stalled ox would be the better
-
for. The minister loved bright faces
about him. Let a child wear a sad coun-
tenance without sufficient cause, and,
though he could not justly have the cere-
monious whipping, he was sure of an in-
formal pinch or fillip. So that it was
only when the children's consciences were
not quite clear that they avoided Mr.
Douglas. A twilight walk with papa, on
the sands, when they learned a thousand
things without knowing they were learn-
ing one, was one of their greatest pleas-
ures; and a summer day on the heather
with him was a delight to which they
looked forward all the year.
A doleful Christian was to Mr. Doug-
las very little better than a child in the
sulks, and fared in much the same way.
At prayer-meeting, one night, after a run-
ning commentary on the 95th Psalm, he
The Minister.
29
:
called on a person whose petitions were
generally couched in whispers, to pray,
saying, "Peter Skinner will pray; and,
Peter, try and make a joyful noise." On
another occasion, an old member, whose
prayers were largely made up
up of
groans,
had scarcely said Amen, when the minis-
ter remonstrated: "John! John! when
have ten minutes to pray in, and
groan seven of them, you're just cheating
God." John rather resented the reproof,
and, waiting for the minister at the church
door, said: "When the Maister himsel'
was at the grave o' Lazarus, he groaned
in speerit."
you
((
Ay," said Mr. Douglas, falling into
John's Scotch, "so he did.
But gin ye
canna be like the Maister in ony ither
gait, ye'll jist never be like Him at a';
for ye gurgle i' the throat like a stick-
it calf. Forbye, John, whaur's yer
Lazarus ?."
A twinkle appeared in John's honest
ら
​30
Memories of the Manse.
blue eyes, and he accepted heartily the
proffered pinch of snuff.
If the minister of our memory is a lit-
tle softer, a little kindlier than the minis-
ter of our real life, one figure at least, in
the Manse, owes nothing to time-the
tenderly remembered, the passionately
beloved minister's wife.
When by our own volition we recall
those whom we loved long ago, we can
blend with them what associations we
will; but when, without effort of ours,
they come before us, one particular as-
sociation comes with them as a part of
themselves. Ask me of Mrs. Douglas
and I remember, as in a dream, the tall,
slender figure that moved about the
Manse, doing the countless things that
devolved on the mother of six children,
with no servant but Jean; the blue, un-
clouded eyes; the auburn hair, that had
lost its gleam of gold and gained some
threads of silver; the placid face, where
The Minister.
31
many a care was legibly impressed, and
the peace of God yet more legibly. I
read her retiring nature, shrinking from
contact with fashionable life, yet receiv-
ing with modest grace the advances of
those who cared to honor her husband
and herself. I look into her gentle
heart, governing solely by love herself,
yet, like a true wife, believing with un-
questioning faith in all her husband
did.
All this I can recall.
But the minister's
wife, who, without need of recalling, is
ever before my eyes and heart, is just a
shadowy figure, sitting in the wondrous
twilight of a Scottish evening, singing
Scottish Psalms.
CHAPTER III.
THE
'SABBATH."
IN the Manse, both summer and winter,
early rising was the order of the day:
and Sunday, you may be sure, was no ex-
(
ception. 'If six days are not enough for
our own service," said Mr. Douglas, “one
is all too little for God's." So the house-
hold was early astir; the minister spend-
ing an early hour over his sermon, and the
children supposed to be doing the same
for their catechism.
At eight the family assembled in the
dining-room, which was also the sitting-
room of the Manse. A small room it was
for so many, and undeniable shabby; the
carpet patched and darned, the furniture
a good deal battered. Even a large
bookcase, containing books with more
tempting exteriors than those in the study,
The "Sabbath."
33
showed marks of no very gentle usage.
Thereby hung tales of winter nights' rev-
elry, which Don, who had played no in-
glorious part therein, could recount, with
sparkling eye; looking a little sheepish,
however, when the little girls took up
the story where he would modestly have
dropped it, and told of the retribution
that followed, showing, in connection
therewith, the tawes that hung in the cor-
ner. Over the tawes were the children's
book-shelves, containing a goodly array
of excellent volumes,-Chambers' Miscel
lany being the prime favorite. Books do
a great deal for a room; but, notwith-
standing the literary appearance of the
Manse dining-room, it required all the
brightening that summer sunshine or win-
ter firelight could give it.
On Sunday morning, however, it looked
its best. Other breakfasts could only
boast those well-known blue plates whose
pagodas, fond lovers, cruel parent, and
3
34
Memories of the Manse.
pair of doves, illustrate a touching le-
gend (a whole world of love and pathos
in a porridge-plate !), and porringers of
every size and hue. But the table, on
Sunday morning, had the snowiest of
linen and the second-best set of china,
white with delicate lavender flowers; and
the children luxuriated in boiled milk
slightly tinged with coffee-Christian,
who studied French, always spoke of it
as café au lait,—wheaten rolls and butter,
with boiled eggs or a smoked haddock.
Breakfast being disposed of, the Bible
was placed on the table, and Jean sum-
moned to "come ben to worship." There
was no "waling a portion with judicious
care." The psalms were sung, and the
Bible was read straight through, and
everybody had to bear his part. No par-
ticular order was regarded in the reading,
but Mr. Douglas, always on the alert to
catch some one napping, would call on
the children as he pleased, and the por-
The "Sabbath."
35
tion read might vary from one verse to a
dozen. If the chapter consisted only of
a list of names, or contained some pas-
sage one might think more suitable for.
private reading, the minister would prob-
ably remark that "all Scripture is given
by inspiration of God, and is profitable."
In the reading, Jean was not called upon,
but she joined in the singing with a will,
and, taking the precaution to pitch her
voice an octave higher than the others,
added much to the general effect. Jean
was a privileged individual, whose twenty
years of faithful service were allowed to
weigh against a good many peculiari-
ties. Once, earlier in their acquaintance,
the minister had called her into his
study to remonstrate about the singing.
"Search your heart, Jean," said he, “and
see if this is not spiritual pride." But
Jean, astonished and indignant, had her
answer ready: "Gin the Lord had gi'en
ye a tenor skirl yersel', sir, wad ye no jist
*
36
Memories of the Manse.
be fleein' i' the face o' yer Maker to try
an' sing wi' a bass grumph?”
Worship being over, the dishes were
not washed, but stowed away in a part of
the kitchen called the nook, to be joined
later by those used at dinner and supper ;
the entire pile to be washed before break-
fast on Monday morning by Jean and
Davidina, the washerwoman. The minis-
ter retired to his study again. The chil-
dren arrayed themselves in their best.
Gentle Mrs. Douglas was everywhere ;
laying out her husband's best clothes in
the spare bedroom, where, except on re-
markable occasions, they reposed all the
week; turning over the boys' snowy col-
lars, and trying to reduce to order Ken-
neth's mass of yellow hair; deciding al-
tercations between Christian and her
charges, the little girls, in regard to sun-
dry details of the gala attire of the latter;
and receiving two visitors who always
dropped in before morning service. These
The "Sabbath."
37
were Mr. Home, an elder—a tall, vener-
able old man, with benign face and snow-
white hair suggestive of a crown of glory;
and Miss Grizzell McTavish, an ancient
maiden lady, one of the daughters of the
predecessor of Mr. Douglas.
If the Glenarran of our records strikes
the reader as odd, that of Mr. McTavish's
day would seem simply impossible. Mr.
McTavish had begun his ministrations
there when the only other church in town
was that belonging to the Establishment.
A harsh-featured, harsh-voiced man, dis-
daining the refinements of life either in
speech or action, he seemed to feel him-
self divinely commissioned to reprove the
little world of Glenarran of sin, of right-
eousness, and of judgment. In the broad-
est Scotch he inveighed against the
"cauld morality" of the Church of Scot-
land, likening it to "a clart o' cauld par-
ritch," and adding, "but far waur; for
Thou kennest, Lord, we canna gie't to
な
​38
Memories of the Manse.
the cat, or thraw't oot to the cocks an'
hens." His own household of faith was
as unceremoniously dealt with. A dis-
pute, in which two church members flatly
contradicted each other, having come be-
fore the session, Mr. McTavish prayed:
"Gie unto Thy kirk-session the speerit o'
wisdom an' knowledge, that it may discern
whether Johnnie Cooper or auld Tammas
has tell't that sinfu' lee." Tradition said
that Mrs. McTavish had been pretty and
possessed of aspirations after fashion, and
that she had been publicly admonished in
the matter of a Leghorn bonnet, which,
after incredible pinching and saving, she
had managed to achieve; and many in
the congregation could remember how the
minister had paused in the middle of his
sermon to reprove the giggling of his
daughters. Whatever might have been
in the past, the Misses McTavish of Mr.
Douglas's day bore no traces of the
pretty, vain mother; and it was certainly
1
The "Sabbath."
39
hard to associate deaf Miss Elizabeth or
cynical Miss Grizzell with any thought of
giggling.
""
The sisters had for many years kept a
small shop in the High Street of Glenar-
ran, where might be had, if the sign spoke
truth, "tea, sugar, tobacco, and snuff;'
also a small stock of sweetmeats, which,
however they differed in form, were one
in flavor-peppermint. It was Miss Griz-
zell's custom to bring a small paper of
lozenges to the Manse on Sunday morn-
ing. One or two were given to such chil-
dren as appeared to deserve them, but the
bulk was handed to Mrs. Douglas for the
minister. Miss Grizzell was shrewd and
not at all credulous, and prided herself on
being a terror to evil-doers as well as—in
the matter of the peppermint drops-a
praise to such as did well: and her close
questioning was particularly dreaded by
the occasional invalids of the Manse.
Strange to say, indisposition was more
40
Memories of the Manse.
frequent in the Manse on Sunday than
on any other day. Whatever Mr. Doug-
las may have thought of this, he had but
one rule of action. If the child was too
ill to go to church, he was too ill to eat,
and must have medicine forthwith; if, on
the other hand, he was well enough at
breakfast hour, no sudden visitation was
allowed to interfere with his church-going.
It was wonderful to see how heroically
even Don the scape-grace bore the test:
asking a blessing, according to manse
usage, over his rhubarb powder; sitting
in a corner, his face expressive of mingled
agony and endurance, his hand clenched
on head or stomach as the case might be;
turning from the offer of coffee and roll
with a gesture of intense loathing; and
now and then, when the family seemed
growing oblivious of his suffering, utter-
ing a deep groan. But little did Miss
Grizzell believe in such symptoms. "Ay!"
she would say, in answer to Mrs. Doug-
The "Sabbath."
41
las's explanation, "it's naething i' the
warl but Sunday-seekness. I mind weel
when Dawvit used to hae't bad." Then to
the invalid, with an emphatic nod: “Ye'll
get nae sweeties the day, my man !'
""
David McTavish, or Dawvit, as his sis-
ters called him, was that most unfortu-
nate of beings—a "stickit minister."
Never very strong, either mentally or
morally, he had after his disappointment
become intemperate, and was now a bur-
den on his sisters and a constant care to
them. Poor David had inherited his
mother's delicate beauty, and, notwith-
standing his bleared eyes and hopeless
expression, had traces of it still. He
had also a sweet, mellow voice, and
could sing divinely.
Though Miss Elizabeth was almost
stone-deaf, the thought of staying at
home on Sunday never entered her mind.
By the time Miss Grizzell got into
church, Miss Elizabeth was already there;
42
Memories of the Manse.
David, also, if he happened to be sober,
-but that was seldom. There was a
world of pathos in the way Miss Grizzell
would say to Mrs. Douglas: "Dawvit's
bad again." They sat in a front pew of
the gallery—the very same to which, so
long, long before, they had been brought
almost babies, by their fair young mother.
Grim and ungainly as they looked, I
doubt not there were spots of tenderness,
perhaps even of romance, in their hearts.
I wonder what they thought as they sat
there and recalled the multitude whom
the church had lost and the churchyard
gained. New forms do not jar on us in
new scenes; but to sit in the old familiar
places, yet miss the old familiar faces,-
that is to know what change means. And
we never realize our own insignificance
more painfully than when we learn for
the first time how much more enduring
are the works of our own hands than we,
their makers. What can we do in such
The "Sabbath."
43
an hour but turn from the contemplation
of change and decay, and repose ourselves
upon the Unchanging, the Everlasting!
At a stated hour, George Campbell,
the minister's man, appeared in the
Manse kitchen for the Bible, or, as he
simply called it, "The Book;" and
shortly afterwards the family set forth.
The minister, clean shaven the night be-
fore, and now arrayed in the blackest of
clothes and the whitest of neckcloths,
was a grave and reverend sight to behold.
On his arm leaned Mrs. Douglas, and
after them came the children, with no lit-
tle pride, feeling that they were forming
part of a very grand procession indeed.
Sometimes there was drawn up at the
church gate a handsome carriage, with
coachman and footman in gorgeous array;
for Lady Georgiana Clyde, though Eng-
lish by birth and a member of the Angli-
can Church, often honored the minister's
pew with her presence,-Kenneth and
C
44
Memories of the Manse.
Don, to make room for her, occupying
places in the pew of the ambitious grocer.
Lady Georgiana, all rustling silks and
waving plumes of lovely silver-gray and
lavender, was tall and majestic; but, be-
ing somewhat asthmatic, had a habit of
puffing out her cheeks and breathing
audibly, that would have given any
stranger in the church the impression she
had walked there. When the children
held their private services, Lady Georgi-
ana was always one of their dramatis per-
sona, and the action of her cheeks was as
faithfully rendered as the minister's halt.
Lady Georgiana was the daughter of
an English Earl, but in the eyes of her
tenantry derived her greatness mainly
from being the wife of Sir Archibald-
the largest landowner in several shires,
representative of his county in Parlia-
ment, and a writer of no little note on
certain political questions of his day. In
Mr. Douglas's church might generally be
The "Sabbath."
45
found representatives of one or two other
county families of less note; but the
congregation generally belonged to the
humbler classes. In the table-seats were
numbers of country people, many of
whom walked miles across the heather
to reach Glenarran; old women in hood-
ed cloaks and close-fitting caps or mutches,
and old men in coats with numerous capes
and woolen night-caps of divers colors.
The young Douglases used to tell with
gusto how a little cousin from Edin-
burgh, seeing these old people for the
first time in church, had asked audi-
bly, "Are they men-ghosts and women-
ghosts?" Many of them understood
Gaelic far better than English, and there
were occasional services in Gaelic for
them.
The perfect hush that pervades a Scot-
tish congregation before service begins-
the grave, expectant expression on every
face-the reverend voice of the minister
心
​46
Memories of the Manse.
as he says, "Let us begin the public
worship of God by singing to his praise,"
—have been often remarked by strangers.
It is a spiritual putting off their shoes
from off their feet, knowing that the
place where they stand is holy ground;
it is the manifestation of the universal
feeling: "This is none other but the
house of God, and this is the gate of
heaven."
Arbitrary as he was, Mr. Douglas could
now and then yield his own preferences
in favor of established usage. It was
thus in the matter of the singing. He
would have liked, years before, to do
away with the habit of lining the psalms,
which in his opinion took up valuable
time only to encourage laziness. But
the old people in the table-seats, though
they brought their Bibles with them, and
followed in them not only the text but
every passage to which the minister might
refer, never dreamed of finding the psalms
The "Sabbath."
47
for themselves, but depended solely on
Alan MacDonald reading each line be-
fore he sang it. On one or two occasions
when this had been omitted, several of
them had actually risen and left the
church. To reason with them would
have been in vain. Lining was to them
a regular part of the service, and singing
without that preliminary was to be classed
with reading sermons, kneeling at prayer,
and other abominations of their arch ene-
mies-popery and prelacy. So that the
minister, very wisely, never raised the
question. As Alan had a tune for read-
ing as well as for singing-a sort of iam-
bic drawl with a minor wail at the end,
the psalms occupied no little time.
At prayer, standing was, of course, the
custom; but not as standing is under-
stood now.
When the minister said,
"Let us pray!" half the congregation
did not sit still, and, putting their faces
in their hands and their hands on the
X
48
Memories of the Manse.
pew in front of them, take a position less
adapted for devotion than for going to
sleep. Every man, woman and child in
the church rose; the very little children
being placed on the pew-seats, with an
injunction to shut their eyes, and one
very old man being drawn up to a stand-
ing position by his wife, where he wor-
shiped, like Jacob, leaning upon the top
of his staff. The prayers of Mr. Douglas
were full of rugged eloquence and abound-
ed in apt and forcible figures. The great-
ness and holiness of God, the insignifi-
cance and sinfulness of man, were set
forth in strong contrast; for Mr. Douglas
believed that only when the heart was
fainting under the terrors of Sinai was it
ready to be laid at the foot of Calvary.
He was the guide, letting you feel your-
self lost on the moor before he brought
you safe home; the pilot, taking you in
your frail bark out of sight of land before
he guided you into the goodly haven
The "Sabbath.
49
where you would be; the parent-bird,
keeping you from building on any tree of
earth, that you might "soar upward with
him to the sure and immutable refuge in
the cleft of the Rock."
4
THE
CHAPTER IV.
SABBATH" (continued.)
As far as attention was concerned, Mr.
Douglas's congregation was entirely satis-
factory. When the minister announced
the text, every one found it and followed
the reading. Throughout the sermon a
passage was never quoted or referred to
without book, chapter and verse being
named by the minister and instantly
found by the people. In the pause that
followed the reading of the text, a good
many persons prepared to take notes-
even the little girls in the Manse pew
producing and dividing half a sheet of
paper. Doubtless there were sleepy ones
and careless ones, perhaps even scoffing
ones, in church; but, whatever they felt,
there were few who did not manage to
appear attentive.
The "Sabbath."
51
The manner of Mr. Douglas was ex-
ceedingly animated, still solemn, but
without a shadow of timidity. To the
trusting hearts that beat beneath the an-
tiquated coats and cloaks, he was the
Great-Heart about to confront Apollyon
on their behalf; and their own piteous
plight was expressed occasionally by a
sigh or a moan, though they felt very
sure that in the end Great-Heart would
have the best of it.
The simple faith of Cowper's cottager
who "just knew, and knew no more, her
Bible true," had probably more than one
parallel in Mr. Douglas's congregation,
but was by no means the prevailing type.
The Scottish mind, even when unedu-
cated, is largely metaphysical. The shoe-
maker will stop in the act of drawing
out his thread to have an argument on
predestination, and the joiner, as he
planes off a coffin-lid,
discusses the
doctrine of the resurrection, With such
52
Memories of the Manse.
natures Mr. Douglas could never have
held his own had he not from time to
time set forth every argument that
could be brought either against Calvinism
in general or his own particular form of
Calvinism, and then triumphantly con-
futed it. The minister, in the eyes of
his people was "jist graun" at fighting,
and able to vanquish anything in the
shape of an enemy, from Beelzebub to
the Kirk of Scotland or the seceders who
had refused to enter the Free Church
with them.
But when I say his sermons were
largely doctrinal, I mean the word in a
larger sense; and let the reader beware
of falling into a common mistake, and
confounding what is doctrinal and what
is dry.
Tell me what constitutes sub-
limity; and then say if a doctrinal ser-
mon, far from being a dry one, should not
above all others be sublime. In the
character of God there is the vast, the
The "Sabbath."
53
terrible, the solemn, the obscure; in man,
the pathos of his lost condition; in the
Redeemer, the immensity of a sacrifice
such as it would never have entered into the
heart of man to conceive. Into whatever
schools of theology Mr. Douglas might
guide his hearers the passionate com-
mand was flashed from his soul to theirs :
Repent, believe and live."
66
The minister's native eloquence gained
something from the scenes in which he
lived-Nature assisting Revelation in its
teaching, and every natural object gain-
ing some spiritual association. "As the
mountains are round about Jerusalem, so
the Lord is round about his people from
henceforth even forever," did the
minister say?—the eager eyes were lifted
up, with a sweet sense of security, to their
own blue hills. "Deep calleth unto
deep: a pause—and the waves were
heard surging hoarsely on the shore. I
am the Good Shepherd :" there sat the
54
Memories of the Manse.
rough but kindly men from the moors;
plaids about them, staff and bonnet in
hand, their dogs waiting at the church
door. Or would he show to them the
Holy City that shall be builded out of
heaven to God?-jasper and sapphire
and chalcedony found no faint reflex in
the evening sky; while, as the more
glowing hues faded away, there floated
down on land and sea the pale purple
that was the crowning glory of the
whole-"the twelfth, an amethyst."
Lady Georgiana remained in a sort of
trance condition during the sermon, but
roused herself at the last psalm and beat
time vigorously on the book-board-
vainly hoping to regulate the singing of
Bangor or Martyrdom. Service over,
she greeted kindly the minister's wife,
shook hands with the children, and drove
off as splendidly and breathlessly as she
had come.
Between services, if the weather was

RETURNING FROM WORSHIP.
The "Sabbath."
55
fine, a crowd of country-women gathered
in the outer garden, and, sitting on the
grass, talked over the sermon and ate
their barley scone or oat-cake. The
young Douglases, who lunched quite as
frugally, generally joined them there;
listening to their father's praises, inquir-
ing after the various ailments of the
various people, and replacing with some-
thing fresh, the withered sprigs that had
done duty all forenoon-for a bit of
something sweet-smelling was brought
almost as religiously as the Bible, the
pocket-handkerchief, and the halfpenny
to put in the plate. The minister's
bairns were to these old people objects
of veneration second only to the minister
and his wife, and by them were petted
and blessed to their hearts' content.
In the inner garden, among the flow-
ers, there wandered unrebuked a strange,
startled-looking creature; gloating over
the odors and colorings, yet keeping
56
Memories of the Manse.
46
strict watch on the kitchen door, and
ready to spring to it on the first glimpse
of Mrs. Douglas. With her tall, slender
form, delicate features and glowing
eyes, daft Annie" would have been
beautiful, only that she had the wild look
of one hopelessly insane. Poor Annie
was the child of sin and shame—her
father unknown; her mother a hard,
cold woman, who seemed to have a posi-
tive aversion for her, heaping on her
willing shoulders all the drudgery of their
wretched home. Wild as she looked,
Annie had been won to gentleness by the
kindness of the minister's wife-the one
gleam of sunshine in her miserable life.
Regularly every Sunday morning, a por-
tion of the Manse breakfast was laid
aside for her to be given, between ser-
vices, by Mrs. Douglas's own hands. But
to look on the face of her kind friend, to
touch her dress, to lay her face caress-
ingly on the grass where her feet had
The "Sabbath,"
57
rested, was more to Annie than even the
food she needed so sorely.
In a poor
attempt at finery that made her far more
grotesque than her week-day rags, Annie
was never missing on Sundays from her
place in the table-seats exactly opposite
the minister-though it was on Mrs.
Douglas her great black eyes were fixed
with unspeakable love and longing.
When the children gave her a flower, she
went off with it, singing,
"There's nae balm in Gilead, there's nae physician
there!"
The Manse dinner-hour was half-past
four. This left time on week-days for
getting home from school, and on Sun-
days for those changes in dress that fam-
ily economy demanded. The minister
repaired at once to the spare bedroom
and took off the jet-black clothes. Mr.
Douglas's best suit was one of the Lares
of the Manse-a thing having a close
58
Memories of the Manse.
•
connection with the Bible, Confession,
Testimony and Tawes; and when the
minister, alike anxious to lighten his
wife's cares and to make his children
useful, had ordained that Bab and Ali-
son should have charge of it, the little
girls had felt as proud as though to them
had been committed the Great Seal. But
there is an art in folding the long-tailed
coat of a portly man; and woe to her
who could not fold Mr. Douglas's with-
out creasing! Bab the beautiful failed
utterly. By the time she had the tails
in order, nothing could be done with
the sleeves; or if by rare luck she
achieved the sleeves, the tails did not
stay where she had put them, but flew
wildly about the bed. So that, when
plain little Alison's deft fingers were
called in, they generally had to com-
mence operations by removing the stains.
of Bab's bitter tears.

AN OPEN AIR SERVICE.
CHAPTER V.
THE "SABBATH "-(continued.)
It is needless to say that no one stayed
at home on account of dinner. Partially
cooked on Saturday, it was left to sim-
mer over a slow peat fire all Sunday af-
ternoon, and was probably just as good
as though it had received more attention.
The first course was soup; the second,
the beef, mutton, or chicken boiled in
the soup. Mrs. Douglas alone took tea.
For himself, the minister, except on rare
occasions, scorned it; and for his chil-
dren-they would not have been allowed.
it, had he been worth his weight in gold.
As, on Sunday evenings, some slight re-
fection was substituted for the usual sup-
per of porridge and milk, everybody took
the precaution to eat an unusually hearty
dinner. What was left of the soup, after
60
Memories of the Manse.
呷
​Jean had reserved her share, was taken
by the children to an aged cripple. The
bones were equitably divided between the
cat and dog. And so, the most frugal
will admit, there was no waste.
How the minister came to be guilty of
the extravagance of keeping a dog, must
be explained. One day, when Donald
was, as Jean expressed it, a "bit toddlin'
wee thing," Jean, who had him in charge,
was hastily summoned to the door by her
brother. She left the child on a rug,
playing quietly; but, on returning, found
to her horror that he had raised himself
to his feet, scrambled across the room,
and was then in the very act of falling
into the bright fire burning on the hearth.
Almost before Jean had time to give the
scream that brought not only the family,
but the entire neighborhood, to the spot,
her brother's dog had darted in, seized
Don by the dress, and dragged him forth
only slightly scorched. After that,
The "Sabbath."
61
Brownie absolutely refused to leave the
Manse, and Mrs. Douglas was not satis-
fied till her husband consented to keep
him. Christian considered him a ple-
beian-looking animal; and even Bab and
Alison lamented that he was not a noble
Newfoundland or St. Bernard, or a
graceful spaniel, or something to which
they could have given a romantic and
high-sounding name; but Don, loyal to
his preserver, declared that he liked
Brownie best just as he was. What he
was, was a large, gaunt cur, of a yellow
color and no particular breed, as great a
scapegrace as his master, but with a look
in his eye that was perfectly irresistible.
Brownie was a born diplomatist. It
sometimes happened that the milk that
fell to the lot of the cat and dog was not
just as sweet as it might have been, and
then it was left untouched. When Mr.
Douglas, anxious to have one rule of
obedience for the entire household, or-
1
62
Memories of the Manse.
dered the pair back to their uneaten
porridge, the stupid cat only looked
sublimely indifferent and stretched her-
self out for a nap or yawned in the
minister's face. Not so Brownie. With
a respectful air he walked across the
room and dutifully ate the unsavory
mess, turning up the whites of his eyes
at the children, however, in a way that
would have brought upon him an instan-
taneous flogging had the minister seen
it, But Brownie's cleverness lay in the
fact that the minister never did see it.
When Don was in disgrace, Brownie was
at his side, wearing while under Mr.
Douglas's eye a look of mingled sorrow
and reproof; but the moment he was left
alone with Don, casting on him one of
his wicked glances. The Ettrick shep-
herd tells of a dog that sometimes went
to church in his master's place and be-
haved so decorously that the good minis-
ter never knew the difference. Brownie
The "Sabbath.”
63
could have eclipsed that dog for at the
very moment his devout air was winning
the minister's heart, his asides would have
had half the congregation in convulsions.
Jean was Brownie's sworn foe-perhaps
because his great exploit could never be
mentioned without recalling what might
be considered her neglect. She professed
to think him uncanny, and to be afraid
to stay in a room alone with him;
"Broonie by name, an' Broonie by na-
tur!"
Apropos of Jean, we
Jean, we must mention
that that ancient handmaiden's behavior
on Sundays was a standing offense to
Mr. Douglas. There is no disguising the
fact: Jean was an exasperating Christian.
Sunday was to her no feast-day, but a
time for sackcloth and ashes. On week
days who so spirited and lively as Jean?
On Sundays who so doleful and lachry-
mose ?
For a time, Mr. Douglas had
tried to remove her depression; but, find-
64
Memories of the Manse.
ing it arose from a morbid desire of hav
ing her spiritual state watched and re-
marked upon, concluded that his wisest
plan would be to let her alone. Jean, dis-
appointed at the minister's course, went
to an old elder for advice. "Hoo sall I
ken," queried she, "that I'm ane o' the
elec' ?" "Hoo, indeed!" replied the
elder; “judgin' by a' ye say o' yersel', I
wad be inclined to think that ye're no'."
Jean flounced home, indignant, and there-
after suffered in silence, taking due care,
however, to keep out of the minister's
sight. Every Sunday she brought forth
from the depths of a huge chest a care-
fully-preserved copy of the "Night
Thoughts;" brooding, during her spare
minutes, over those pages that describe
the death-bed of the profligate, and shed-
ding over them floods of tears. As the
passage had no bearing whatever over
anything connected with her own history,
the reason why she had wept over it
The "Sabbath."
65
weekly for more than twenty years will
probably never be explained.
At seven o'clock the family assembled
upstairs, in the parlor a room whose
north window, looking out upon the glo-
rious panorama of shore and sea and hills.
and far-off islands, was the pride of the
Manse and the envy of Glenarran. In
the parlor was a well-used but well-pre-
served piano, placed so near the door
opening into the study that the minister
could readily detect the amount and
quality of the practicing performed.
There, too, were various specimens of
Christian's fancy-work, that had at one
time been the cause of much ill feeling
between the boys and their sister, and
might have continued so had not Mr.
Douglas settled the matter with his usual
promptness. "If the boys abuse the
work," said he, "I will take the tawes to
them; but if complaints are made only
because they use it, I will assuredly put
5
66
Memories of the Manse.
the nonsense in the fire." So Christian
dared say no more; but what that ambi-
tious young person suffered in silence
while Kenneth's large red hand wandered
unchecked over the tidies, and Don's
curls buried themselves in the silks of the
patchwork cushion, none but kindred
spirits can dream.
The children went at the Catechism in
a way that would surprise you. "What
is the Chief End of Man?" Mr. Douglas
asked Alek, the young collegian; and
Alek, answering, questioned Christian;
and Christian, Kenneth; and Kenneth,
Don. And although the questions soon
came to an end among the younger ones,
the answers did not-even Bab getting
through Effectual Calling unscathed;
and little Alison wandering through the
mazes of What is Required, and What is
Forbidden, and Reasons Annexed, in a
manner wonderful to hear. Sometimes,
alas! there were breaks in the perform-
The "Sabbath."
67
ance.
Too often had Don been fishing
at the "Mermaid's Tryst" when he ought
to have been learning his Catechism;
then, on Sunday evening, instead of bear-
ing his part with the others, he sat aside,
meditating ruefully on the morrow's
whipping,—Brownie by his side, looking
shocked and distressed.
Catechism over, the children read from
their notes or gave from memory all they
could remember of the sermon. Mr.
Douglas slowly walking up and down as
he went over each head and particular:
explaining to the younger ones the while
how the heads were the hands, and the
particulars the fingers, of his sermon ;
and then, in language that even the
youngest child could perfectly understand,
the bearing of the subject on their daily
lives was shown. To the minister right
thinking and right feeling were all very
well, but right doing was the proof of
these; and theories were less than noth-
68
Memories of the Manse.
ing to him unless they stood the test of
practical application and made life more
active and more earnest.
Then in that sweet hour that is neither
night nor day, but something born of all
that is loveliest in both, the evening
prayer was offered, the evening psalm was
sung. An hour afterwards, and Mrs.
Douglas, going from room to room, had
given her good-night kiss; the children
were asleep; all was dark in the Manse-
and silent, save for the ceaseless song of
the sea.

B
BESIDE THE SEA.
CHAPTER VI.
WEEK DAYS.
ОH, the rapture of the early summer
morning among the mountains and beside
the sea!
Not that the young Douglases greeted
with rapture the clarion voice that rang
through the Manse. Neither nature nor
grace had made them anything but
healthy, hungry, sleepy children, apt to be
a little cross when summoned from the
pleasant world of dreams to the rude re-
alities of a hasty toilet and a plunge into
the cold sea. But when the mist had
risen slowly from the water and the sun-
light bathed land and sea in its happy
glow, and they walked along the beach to
the caves-their only bathing coaches-
how the bracing air banished every frown,
what vigor they found in the sparkling
70
Memories of the Manse.
depths, and how pleasantly boys and girls.
met at the breakfast-table, and what ap-
petites they brought there.
"
Now then," would the minister say
cheerily, as they rose from their knees
after worship, "to work, my children!
Mr. Douglas fully agreed with Mr. Car-
lyle as to the divine appointment of labor.
Work, to him, was health and happiness.
and worship; a sure cure for all the ills
of life-above all, for a certain unreason-
able discontent that even the best of chil-
dren will sometimes indulge in. "Ask
your mother to give you a handkerchief
to hem," would be his order if Bab or
Alison looked a little doleful. If the
household could not furnish the desired
article in its unfinished state, a piece of
rag was sent for; or, if the minister had
no time to lose, to take his own handker-
chief from his pocket, tear the hem off,
and toss it to the little girls, was but the
work of an instant. The remedy wrought
Week Days.
71
What
like a charm; one handkerchief-par-
ticularly if it was what Bab disdainfully
called "a snuffy one"-being sufficient to
raise the hemmer's spirits beyond any
chance of depression for months.
hemming was to the girls, the gravel that
would encroach on the flower-beds and
the dandelions and nettles that would
spring up in the grass were to the boys.
The children might have felt a little re-
bellious had their taskmaster not been the
prince of workers himself. By the time
they were ready for school, their father
was shut up in his study for the morning,
or he had gone out on business, or he was
off for a visitation in the country. When
Mr. Douglas made his pastoral appoint-
ments, it became the duty of the parish-
ioner at whose house the visitation was to
be held to send a horse for him; and from
many years of such rides the minister
could probably, had time permitted, have
written an interesting and instructive
72
Memories of the Manse.
work on that animal. In regard to the
amazing variety of creatures—appearing
to the uninitiated to differ in everything
but the name-the word horse compre-
hends, even Mr. Darwin might have
learned from him a thing or two. The
children, on visitation mornings, watched
the arrival of the animal with intense in-
terest, greeting its coming in sight with
screams of recognition or surprise - as,
"Oh, papa! it's that little gray pony that
lets your feet trail;" or, " Oh, mamma!
it's that bad black horse that threw Don."
It might be stout in build, like a cart-
horse-which it was; or a living skeleton,
like Rosinante; or of an appearance so
sinister as to draw from Jean the ejacu-
lation: "Gude save us! this maun be
the muckle white beast o' the Revela-
tions."
At school the boys had a quiet, un-
eventful time of it. The master was an
easy-going, indolent man, whose pupils
Week Days.
73
might know as much or as little as they
pleased; and it would have pleased Ken-
neth and Don to know but little, only that
their father was apt, when they least ex-
pected it, to "ask them some questions in
their accidence," following farther the ex-
cellent rule of Sir Hugh Evans: "If
If you
forget your kies, your kæs and your cods,
you must be preeches."
As for the girls, their
progress
in
Glen-
knowledge was by paths perilous.
arran boasted a Ladies' Establishment,
where the young people of several coun-
ties were sent to have their minds gorged
at so many guineas per annum; and the
strictness of Mr. Douglas faded into in-
significance before the severities of Miss
Dangerfield.
Miss Dangerfield was of a genus that
does not flourish on this republican soil;
so I may briefly describe her-a straight
figure nearly six feet high, a masculine
but not ill-looking face, hair parted low
74
Memories of the Manse.
on one side and arranged in bows on the
other, a many-flounced dress of black
merino, for which in the afternoon silk
was substituted, a knitted shawl of black
and purple, a head-dress to correspond,
and a fur boa twisted round head and
neck promiscuously. This costume varied
slightly, but only slightly, with the ther-
mometer-being indicative less of the
weather it had pleased Providence to
send, than of that it was Miss Danger-
field's intention to create. The signal
corps of the Ladies' Establishment had no
difficulty in making her out. Each addi-
tional article of attire indicated additional
peril for them; and the boa, being inter-
preted, signified, "Look out for squalls!"
The drudgery of the Establishment was
performed by a governess, who presided
in the schoolroom. The pupils gave it
as their opinion that Miss Trotter would
have been very nice, had she dared.
Miss Dangerfield taught one or two ad-
Week Days.
75
vanced classes in her bedroom upstairs,
but the greater part of her time was.
spent in a very handsome drawing-room,
where she gave music lessons.
music lessons. Music is
usually considered the science of har-
mony; with Miss Dangerfield it was the
science of numbers. Con amore and con
espressione were signs unknown in her
art; but one-two-three-four resound-
ed in her dread voice through the house,
was beat with her pencil on the piano,
was stamped with her foot on the floor
just over poor Miss Trotter's head, and
was sometimes accentuated on her pupil's
fair cheek by the long white hand she
had at liberty. When she had no more.
music lessons to give, she sailed down-
stairs in search of fresh victims. Some-
times she walked up to a bevy of little
girls, and, speaking with sarcastic polite-
ness, begged to know what lesson had the
honor of engaging their attention, and re-
marked that she would have the pleasure
76
Memories of the Manse.
of hearing it. The more timid had their
young souls frozen with terror by the
mere glance of the cold, steel-blue eyes
set in the white face, and were undone
at once; while, had any one sufficient
courage to answer, she fared little better.
The long white hand was swung grace-
fully in the air once or twice to give it
impetus, and then the back of it brought
violently in contact with the cheek that
perhaps least expected it, with the calm
remark, "you have so much assurance,
my dear!"
These were punishments, so to speak,
en passant. Graver ones were adminis-
tered in the bedroom upstairs. Like
most tyrants, Miss Dangerfield had a
victim-in-chief. Fanny Patterson was a
young lady of tallowy complexion and
generally dejected appearance, the latter
being sufficiently accounted for by the
fact that she had a stepmother who was
said to treat her cruelly, and a father to
Week Days.
77
whom any complaint would have been
unavailing Fanny, notwithstanding her
melancholy air, was popular with her
young friends in a certain way—that is,
they liked to gather around her, and
listen to the domestic experiences which
she was nothing loath to relate. The
most enjoyable part of their morning was
when, their own lessons being over and
Miss Trotter engaged with a large class,
they were left free to hear the whispered
details of Fanny's last whipping, getting
their corner the while well impregnated
with the odor of the peppermint lozenges
in which Fanny largely indulged. Too
often the ominous figure appeared at the
schoolroom door, and a hasty disposal
-had to be made of the sweets. Bab and
Alison, gracefully using their handker-
chiefs, conveyed the lozenges away in
their folds; and the luckless Fanny,
totally unskilled in legerdemain, bolted
hers entire.
However the interview with
=
78
Memories of the Manse.
Miss Dangerfield might open, it was
pretty sure to end with, "Miss Fanny,
you will follow me upstairs, my dear."
Notwithstanding the horror expressed
in Fanny's backward glance, she seemed,
on her reappearance, hardly less dejected
than before. Perhaps to one so accus
tomed to whippings one more or less
made little difference, or it may be that
her stomach was fortified by the constant
use of peppermint lozenges.
Fortunately for the young Douglases,
the Ladies' Establishment was in that part
of the town most remote from the sea;
so that the erect port and peculiar step—
something between a shuffle and an
ble-practiced while Miss Dangerfield's
lynx eye was upon them, might be with
safety abandoned as they neared home;
while it was poor Fanny's crowning mis-
fortune that the windows of what Don
called the Chamber of Horrors command-
ed a view of the most secret recesses of
her father's garden.
CHAPTER VII.
WEEK DAYS (continued).
THE gray old Manse, meanwhile, was
in comparative repose. Sometimes its
quiet was broken in upon by Sir Archi-
bald Clyde, who was fond of bringing
his treatises, while yet in embryo, to be
talked over with the minister. Sir Archi-
bald admired Mr. Douglas, and partic-
ularly liked the hearty laugh that was
sure to come in just in the right place.
Now and then the Mackenzies of Old-
field-penniless dames of long pedigree,
or the Hendersons of The Elms, or the
Camerons of the Grange, created a sen-
sation in the Manse parlor; more often
came less stately but better-loved visitors.
But most often, Mrs. Douglas's place,
when her household duties were done,
was by her husband's side in the quaint
C
80
Memories of the Manse.
old study, her sewing or darning keep-
ing time to the music of his rapidly-mov-
ing quill.
As for Jean, the gloom of Sunday hav-
ing been locked away with the " Night
Thoughts," her tongue fairly kept pace
with her fingers. If she was alone, there
was store of ballad-lore to be piped out
in her high key; if she had the com-
pany of Davidina, there was the gossip
of the week to be rehearsed, there were
Davidina's dreams to be told and in-
terpreted, and there were standard nar-
rations which it was Davidina's weekly
duty to demand and Jean's to recount.
The episode of the hen-yard was one of
the last; and at its conclusion, “An' sae,
as I was tellin' ye, Dawvit, the minister
has never wanted for a fresh egg sin'
syne," it was Jean's invariable habit to
add, with conscious pride: "I think Cam-
eron hissel' wad hae liked weel to hear o't.
The strength of these damsels was kept
Week Days.
81
up on washing-days by a glass of whiskey,
sent out regularly at a certain hour. The
great temperance tide that had swept
over much of Scotland had not yet reach-
ed Glenarran. In remote parts of the
county, an invitation to a funeral was
more highly esteemed than one to a
wedding, on account of the superior en-
tertainment given. I hae kenned mony
a weddin'," said one feast-hunter," that
sair needed a meeracle to mak the speerits
haud oot; but wha's gaun to mind a drap
mair or less when they're jist drooned i'
woe?" And the reader may have heard
of a certain woman who, being slighted
on a funeral occasion at a neighbor's, stood
at her door, vainly hoping to be sent for,
till the very last invited guest had gone
into the house of mourning; and then,
turning away, said, with revengeful deter-
mination: "Weel! weel! I'll maybe hae
a corp o' my ain yet, an' then we'll see
wha'll be invited."
6
82
Memories of the Manse.
In no unseemly haste do the twain in
the Manse kitchen partake of the spirits.
To swallow it at all is evidently a painful
duty, yet a duty that must be discharged
with a certain ceremony. Jean as hostess
opens fire:
'Tak yer glass, Dawvit.”
"Thank ye, Jean."
There is no drinking of healths. David-
ina tastes, shivers, and puts down the
glass as one who will no more.
"Tak it up, Dawvit!
Davidina takes another mouthful; her
face becomes distorted, her appearance in
general is of one going into strong con-
vulsions.
"Hoot toot, woman! Tak it up! For
shame, Dawvit !"
Davidina protests, Jean adjures. It is
a work of time. The glass is of course.
finally emptied; and after the last mouth-
ful Davidina serenely wipes her mouth
with the corner of her apron, and her
Week Days.
83
moon-like face resumes its usual stupid
placidity.
I have spoken of the simplicity of the
Manse dinners. On great occasions, how-
ever, such as birthdays, the children were
allowed to choose an additional dish.
And the dish invariably chosen was pan-
cakes.
I affirm that there is no greater delicacy
in the world than a pancake properly
made. But it requires the nicety of a
Mrs. Douglas to compound it, the brawny
arms of a Davidina to beat the eggs, the
skill of a Jean to toss the delicious morsel.
"Dinna ye ever miss, Jean?" would
the admiring Davidina ask, as she watched
the last-named operation. "I'm nae sic
gomeril!" Jean would reply, tossing her
head as gallantly as the pancake.
A further birthday pleasure was a song
from Jean; but this was never allowed
when she had companionship in the
kitchen, lest Davidina, who was ever burn-
84
Memories of the Manse.
ing to distinguish herself, might presume
upon it and wish to sing too. When the
singing was permitted, Jean stood half-
way between the dining-room door and
the table where the pancakes were being
disposed of, and the child whose birth-
day it was, was free to choose the song.
Bab admired the ballad of the man who,
having a dumb wife, got a doctor to “cut
her chattering-string," but before many
days became so wearied of the newly-
evoked gift that he applied to the doctor
to make her dumb again,-which that
worthy declared it was beyond his power
to do. The refrain, "Dumb! dumb!
dumb!" rang out bravely. Little roman-
tic Alison loved a Jacobite lay, as “ Wae's
me for Prince Charlie!" while the boys
affected something martial, and compli-
mented Jean by affirming that if they did
not see her they would think it was the
bagpipes. As for Christian she entirely
disapproved of the performance, for a
Week Days.
85
reason young ladies will be quick to
appreciate. "Only think, mamma," she
said, "if any one passing should think it
was I singing!"
In truth, the Manse had many a pleas-
ure all the year round. In the haunted
attic no ghost had the heart to show it-
self when the young masqueraders held
high revelry, Brownie, as obliging as
the immortal Bottom, ready for any part,
but generally appearing as a respectable
elderly female in a green cloak and the
identical kiss-me-if-you-can bonnet that
was said to have drawn on Mrs. McTavish
her husband's ire. Then there were the
long winter evenings, when, study-hours
being over, they had a romping game of
blind-man's-buff, or a quieter game of
draughts-sometimes with the minister;
or sat round the dining-room fire, telling
stories or singing sweet old songs.
There was Hallow e'en, when they
"ducked" for apples and burned nuts;
!
86
Memories of the Manse.
and now and then came an evening when,
the minister and his wife having gone to
dine at the castle or some equally un-
wonted place, they were free to gather
round the kitchen hearth and hear from
Jean wild tales of Covenanting times, or
ghost stories-made more impressive by
their narrator pausing from time to time
to remove a coffin" or a "shroud " from
the dismal tallow candle, which she
seemed to keep burning for that express
purpose.
""
But what were all the pleasures of the
house to the rambles among the hills or
on the moors? There was not a spot for
miles around that the young Douglases
did not know: banks where wild thyme
grew, favorite haunts of graceful blue-
bells, knolls where early primroses grew
thickest, dells where violets lingered last.
Every summer there was a whole day at
Raeburn Head, when they lunched at the
shepherd's cottage-eating curds and

THE HILLS IN SUMMER.
Weck Days.
87
cream with horn spoons, or rambled
about among the heather in search of
eggs, or threw stones over the cliffs to
make the startled sea-birds rise screaming.
And the sea, the wonderful sea, in what
varied language did it speak to them!
Sometimes after a wild night, in which
the surf could be heard beating against
the garden wall, the sun shone out bright
and clear; and the children, careless of
the biting air, rushed to the beach to see
the rainbow-hued hills of foam and the
masses of jelly-fish the storm had brought
ashore; or to run out after the snow-
crested, sparkling green waves, and then,
just as they were curling, ready to fall
again, to fly before them, often not escap-
ing dry-shod. Not seldom some goodly
ship came ashore in the night; and the
population of the Fisher Biggins—men,
women and children-flocked out, nom-
inally to rescue, but really to appropriate
the goods the gods had provided. Once
88
Memories of the Manse.
a real, live whale came in among the
rocks and was left there by the tide, and
all Glenarran rode or walked miles to see.
To be sure it was not a very large one,
and its head-which is, I believe, the
most interesting portion of a whale-re-
mained obstinately under water. But
then it was something to have seen a
living whale-rather, one that had so
lately been living; for even while the
family from the Manse gazed, the people,
always anxious to utilize the "mercies,"
were broiling slices of it on the beach, to
see if it could not possibly be eaten.
"Wad ye try it, sir?" said an old fisher-
man to the minister.
"No, I thank you, John. How do
you like it yourself?"
"Weel, sir, I'll no deny that I hae ta'en
a scunner at it. I'm feared it canna be
eaten; but I'm wae to see sae muckle
meat ganging to waste.
"But oh! John," broke in Alison,

THE HILLS IN WINTER.
Week Days.
89
"what if it should be the very whale that
swallowed Jonah?”
66
'It wad eat nae waur for that," said
John. "But bless the lassie ! Wha wad
hae thocht o' sic a thing but ane o' the
minister's bairns?"
But, after all, the children loved the
sea best in the summer evenings. Long
after the sun went down, they would build
stone castles on the beach and let the in-
coming tide surround them. Or they
would walk up and down on the sand,
watching sky and water slowly darkening,
and the deep right royal purple of the
hills growing indistinct, and the nets of
the fishermen gently rising and falling far
off on the silver-gray sea.
You will see that the children of the
Manse owed but a small part of their
education to Miss Dangerfield and the
parish schoolmaster. Dear old Mother
Nature is a grand instructor, and teaches
unerringly all but those who will be fools;
90
Memories of the Manse.
and her very best lesson is just the same
as that you learned at the knee of the
mother who bore you. I have sometimes
thought that I would like to take one of
the popular productions of to-day-an
evolution philosopher-and let him feel
the vigorous argument, the keen wit, the
reverent faith, the fine scorn of the min-
ister I used to know. But I believe
I could do more for him, might I but
lead him far away among the moun-
tains, and let him find himself face to
face with God. Then, from the con-
sciousness of his own utter insignifi-
cance, might be evolved a theory-not
so new as his, but one that would make
him a higher and happier and holier
creature:
"O my God! of old hast thou laid the
foundations of the earth, and the heavens
are the work of thy hand. They shall
perish, but Thou shalt endure; yea, all
of them shall wax old like a garment;
Week Days.
91
as a vesture shalt Thou change them,
and they shall be changed; but Thou
art the same, and thy years shall have
no end."
CHAPTER VIII.
THE SACRAMENT."
At the time of which we are writing,
"The Sacrament," as it is simply termed
in Scotland, was celebrated in each of the
churches in Glenarran but once a year.
From time immemorial the ministers of
that place had, on such occasions, been
assisted by brethren from their own sec-
tion of the country. Great, then, was
the excitement in town when it was
announced that the great Dr. Drummond
of Edinburgh would, on the next sacra-
mental occasion, be the guest of Mr.
Douglas.
As the time drew near, great was the
bustle in the Manse. First of all, Bab
and Alison were dispatched for Davi-
dina. That retainer was discovered at
breakfast, consisting of tea, with oat-
"The Sacrament.”
93
cake and butter, an enviable meal, the
children thought, comparing it with their
own breakfast of porridge and milk.
Davidina received the messengers with
loud welcome; and first ascertaining that
Christian was not likely to appear, select-
ed two pieces of crisp oat-cake, buttered
them roughly with a knife, and gave them
a finer finish with her thumb. This
tempting refreshment being proffered to
the children, Bab accepted graciously,
Alison declined.
Davidina's feelings were hurt. "Why!"
said Bab, opening wide her pretty eyes,
"you love oat-cake and butter!"
"But I do not like it spread with
Davidina's thumb," objected Alison.
Davidina tossed her head.
said she.
(6
Sic pride!"
Bab evidently sympathized with Da-
vidina, and ate her portion with increased
relish. Whereupon the retainer took her
on her lap and blessed her for an angel
94
Memories of the Manse.
bairn, and praised her eyes and hair, and
heard her say, "The Lord's my shep-
herd," wiping her eyes with her apron
when she had finished. And poor little
plain Alison stood by, feeling that she
had been very guilty, yet not able for the
life of her to see how it was any kindness.
to eat cake spread with the fingers when
a knife lay on the table.
"If you had no knife," she attempted
to explain. But Davidina waved her
hand as one who eschewed further dis-
cussion.
Davidina came to the Manse, and the
house was thoroughly cleaned, a bed put
up in the study and a "shake down" in-
troduced into the attic for the boys, so
that their room might be left vacant.
From the wine merchant's arrived small
supplies of port and sherry, and more
liberal quantities of brandy and whiskey;
and from the druggist's a large bottle of
bitters,—for the good ministers were by
"The Sacrament.”
95
no means teetotalers. These were pur-
chases, of course; but there were sundry
presents also. Country women crowded
in with a small cheese, a few eggs, or a
piece of pork; while the fisher people
promised a dish of fresh herring, a fine
cod, and one generous heart brought a
salmon. Arrangements were made for a
daily supply of fresh rolls and cream;
an immense beef-steak pie was made,
whose crust was a marvel to behold; and
Mrs. Douglas's famous recipe for bread
pudding, with fruit, was brought out and
conned carefully.
Laugh at this homely fare, if you will,
dear reader For me, I only sigh for the
hearty appetite and perfect digestion that
made it all so good.
Well, there came to the Manse Mr.
Thompson and Mr. McGregor, from the
adjacent islands, who were crowded to-
gether into the study; Mr. McLean and
Mr. Craig, from neighboring counties,
96
Memories of the Manse.
who found close quarters in the boys'
small room; and the great Dr. Drum-
mond, of Edinburgh, who luxuriated alone
in the comparatively spacious best bed-
room.
The children were in a state of sub-
dued excitement. None of them, except
Alek and Christian, sat at the table with
these worthies; but then they partook of
such dainties as were left. Also they
knew from experience that Mr. McGregor
would give each of them a shilling when
he went away; and although they had
too much delicacy to speak of it, there
was not one who had not already planned
in his heart what should be done with
every penny of it. Moreover, was it not
something just to gaze on the great Dr.
Drummond, of Edinburgh? True, they
had been somewhat disappointed on his
arrival to find that he had a hooked nose
and red hair. But when Christian told
them how he had said, on being asked if
"The Sacrament."
97
he would be helped to salmon, not, “If
you please, sir," or "Thank you, sir," or
anything they would have been likely to
say; but, "Sir, I will partake of that
delicacy for which your town is so famous"
-when she imitated his sonorous voice
and piercing glance-they felt that a man
might be great notwithstanding the ac-
cidents of nose and hair. That was the
pet speech at the children's table for
many a day. Did Jean ask any one to
have some more broth or porridge, the
reply was, Madam, I will partake of
that delicacy for which your town is so
famous." So that at last the old servant
had to complain to her master “o' the
bairns" for "makin' a fule o' her," and
had the speech prohibited, though the
piercing glance still fixed her.
The religious exercises of the occasion
began on Wednesday night, the regular
night for the weekly prayer meeting;
and as the ministers had not then arrived,
7
98
Memories of the Manse.
members of the congregation were, as
usual, called upon to pray, and not always
with the most satisfactory results.
"Donald Mackay," Mr. Douglas said,
you will engage in prayer ;" and taking
no notice of a deprecating groan from
Donald, stood up and shut his eyes.
A dead silence till the minister repeat-
ed the command. Then a deeper groan,
a muttered declaration of being "no
worthy," and finally Donald boldly said:
"Auld Jamie McPherson can pray."
"Pray yoursel'," auld Jamie McPher-
son retorted.
And so on till the stern voice of Mr.
Douglas reduced Donald to obedience.
Thursday was kept as a day of fasting
and prayer, with sermons morning, after-
noon and evening. On Friday evening
there was another prayer meeting, and
on Saturday regular services in the morn-
ing. On "Sacrament Sunday" the ex-
ercises began at nine and lasted. till five,
"The Sacrament."
99
without intermission, the ministers slip-
ping out when they could to take refresh-
ment.
In Mr. Douglas's church, as I have said,
the tables were stationary, running in
front of the pulpit, the breadth of the
church. The" table seats" were occupied
on all other occasions by the aged and
humble parishioners of both sexes, who
seemed in their simple hearts to think
there was some virtue in them. On
"Sacrament Sunday" they remained un-
occupied, however, till the invitation was
given to come forward.
"We will sing a portion of the 103d
Psalm," Mr. Douglas said, "and during
the singing the communicants will take
their seats."
And then they sang to some quaint tune
those words so associated with that
sacred season in every Scottish heart,
Alan McDonald lining it as they went
on :
100
Memories of the Manse.
"O thou my soul, bless God the Lord,
And all that in me is
Be stirred up, His holy name
To magnify and bless.
Bless, O my soul, the Lord thy God,
And not forgetful be
Of all His gracious benefits
He hath bestowed on thee."
Oh, the strange sweetness of that Scot-
tish music, heard in country parishes.
throughout the land! The unaccustomed
ear might shrink from unequal time and
interpolated notes; but the singers would
have naught changed. Was it not thus
that it went up from the glens and hill-
sides? Has not every unwritten cadence
a story of its own? That minor wail is
the cry of the persecuted: "All Thy
waves and Thy billows have gone over
me." Lower still it sinks for the martyred
dead: "The bodies of Thy saints have
they given to be meat for the fowls of
the air." The minor sobs itself away.
There is a burst expressing renewed, un-
"The Sacrament.”
ΙΟΙ
conquerable confidence in God: "Oh!
put thy trust in God, for I shall yet praise
Him who is the health of my countenance
and my God."
But, meantime, the children were gaz-
ing expectant, and still the communicants
did not move. When they had sung five
or six verses, Mr. Douglas leaned over
the pulpit and touched Alan McDonald's
head, as a signal to stop. And here Bab
and Alison exchange glances, signifying
that had they been in Alan McDonald's
place, and with so bald a head, they would
certainly have screamed at the critical
moment.
Then came a stern rebuke to the com-
municants, and then more singing. By-
and-by an old man or woman approached,
trembling visibly and drawing back from
time to time. And the seats were not
filled till the minister had rebuked them
more than once.
Was this timidity only a ceremony? you
102
Memories of the Manse.
I do not think it was.
These
may ask.
trembling souls dwelt too much among
the thunders and lightnings and thick
clouds of Sinai, and looked not enough
on Calvary and its Cross. So they sang,
without understanding them, the words
of their own beautiful Psalm :
Such pity as a father hath
Unto his children dear,
Like pity shows the Lord to such
As worship Him in fear."
At five o'clock the elders dined with
the ministers, while in the Manse kitchen
soup was distributed to all who came.
After that there was another sermon.
The religious exercises of the occasion
were brought to a close on Monday morn-
ing, and by Monday night the children
had their shillings, the neighboring min-
isters wers gone, and Dr. Drummond, of
Edinburgh, waiting for the weekly packet,
was left alone in his glory.
Alas that aught should have occurred
"The Sacrament.”
103
to mar the pleasure of
visit! But such is life.
that great man's
day of his stay, Jean was
On the
On the very last
ill, and David-
ina, whom not even the fear of Mr. Doug-
las could keep long in the background, in-
sisted on supplying her place at table.
Her thousand minor blunders might have
passed unheeded, but that she should bring
in the cheese in her hand, and so set it
before Mr. Douglas on the table, was an
enormity that, by Christian at least, was
never either forgotten or forgiven.
CHAPTER IX.
THE MINISTER'S ELDEST SON.
WHEN Alek was but seventeen he was
sent to the University, with the under-
standing that for the first year his father,
out of his small means, would maintain
him there, but after that he must shift
for himself.
Alek was a clever lad, who knew
thoroughly what he knew at all, and by
assisting in a school during his spare day-
hours, and coaching one or two slower
students at night, he maintained himself
with credit, and, at the end of his third
year, returned to Glenarran to astonish
the natives with a wonderfully clerical
dress and air, an eye-glass, and a highly
comfortable opinion of himself.
His father and mother talked him over.
Mrs. Douglas thought her eldest son per-
The Minister's Eldest Son
105
fect; her husband by no means agreed
with her.
"Understand me," he said, “Alek is a
good boy enough. There is an ingenu-
ousness even about his vanity, and I can
say for him that I don't believe he need
blush to give an account of every hour he
has spent away from us.
is a dead fly that would
precious ointment."
66
But self-conceit
spoil the most
But you won't be hard on him,
Donald?"
"Hard on him!" laughed the minister.
"That would be to make him a self-
righteous prig. A good laugh at his ex-
pense will do more for him than twenty
sermons.
In truth, Mr. Douglas did not seem in-
clined to be hard on Alek. As a stately
Newfoundland may put up with the antics
of an insignificant puppy, knowing that
at any moment matters can be adjusted
by a tap of his huge paw, the minister
2
106
Memories of the Manse.
bore with the airs of Alek, studying him
closely the while.
The youth, meantime, constituting him-
self the viceroy of his father, became ob-
noxious to the younger children. On his
arrival he had proposed that his brothers
and sisters should improve their vacation
by taking a Bible lesson with him daily.
This Mr. Douglas wisely left optional
with the children. They, highly pleased
at first, began to rebel as soon as they
discovered that Alek meant to be quite
as severe as their father, and a great deal
more unreasonable. Christian was the
first to secede, and before a fortnight had
passed, Kenneth, who was too good to
quarrel with anybody, was the only one
left.
Not satisfied with his unpopularity in
the house, Alek proceeded to make him-
self odious to the boys on the street.
Opposite the church was a row of thatch-
ed cottages, from which issued daily a
The Minister's Eldest Son.
107
crowd of urchins on mischief intent.
Over
them the Manse children exercised a sort
of feudal sway, due partly to their position
and partly to Don's good right hand. The
minister's rule over them was absolute.
Even Will-gowk, who, notwithstanding
his name, was no fool, but an arrant
knave, had been known to leave the dog
to whose tail he was fastening a tin pail
with a burning peat in it, and, obeying
the signal from the window, go sheepishly
into the Manse and up to the study; and
perhaps the minister's children had never
been so surprised in all their young lives
as when they saw the culprit depart with
a grin on his dirty face and two or three
sweeties in his dirty hand.
It never entered into the heads of these
street Arabs to say to the minister, "It
is not your wall I am climbing;" or, "It
is not your cat I am going to kill.” But
when Alek took upon himself the office
of censor, it was an entirely different thing.
A
108
Memories of the Manse.
When, in imitation of his father, he tapped
on the window and signed to Will-gowk
to approach, that worthy laid his finger
knowingly on the side of his nose and
looked aggravatingly attentive; and when,
to enforce obedience, Alek stepped to the
door and addressed the gowk as William,
the latter turned half a dozen somersaults.
in succession to express his intense delight.
Nor did Will-gowk let the matter end
with the unearthly shriek that finished off
the somersaults. Passing the thatched
cottages, an evening or two after, Alek
was arrested by a gentle tap on a certain
window, and, stopping involuntarily, heard
some one say in low, stern tones, "Alex-
ander! Alexander, my boy, step this
way!" It was the gowk in his usual
rags, but with the stiffest of pasteboard
collars, gazing impressively at him through
a hastily improvised eye-glass.
Alek would have dashed through the
window at the gowk, but that a carriage
The Minister's Eldest Son.
109
was approaching. So he strode on, his
face crimson with rage, his mind busy
with schemes of revenge on his enemy.
As he passed down the High street, a
loud, shrill voice resounded in his ears.
At first he hardly noticed it, he was so
absorbed, but gradually it penetrated to
his preoccupied senses, shaped itself into
words, and this was what it said :
"Saundy! Saundy Dooglas! whaur
got ye thae fine breeks, my man?"
The voice proceeded from the deaf
Miss McTavish, who stood just within
her shop door, making a telescope of one
hand, through which she surveyed Alek,
while with the other she pulled back her
cap from her ear, the more readily to
catch his answer.
Eh?" she screamed, as Alek hesi-
tated. Miss Elizabeth had the usual fail-
ing of deaf people. She thought every-
body in the world deaf, and all Glenarran
might have heard as she again cried:
110
Memories of the Manse.
"I'm sayin', Saundy! whaur got ye thae
fine breeks?"
impression.
Everybody who heard was laughing.
Not far off were some of Christian's
friends, on whom Alek hoped the “fine
breeks" had already made a favorable
For the moment he just
Rushing across the street
and into the shop where Miss Grizzell
was weighing out half an ounce of snuff,
he shook his clinched fist fiercely in Miss
Elizabeth's face and shouted, "You are
an old fool!"
went mad.
((
"Eh?" said Miss Elizabeth again,
looking dazed. Miss Grizzell dropped
her snuff and turned pale.
"He's gaun gyte, Leezbeth," she
"much learnin' has made him
said;
mad!"
But Alek quickly undeceived her. All
the wrath he had been cherishing in his
heart against his brothers and sisters, and
against Will-gowk, fell, in addition to
The Minister's Eldest Son.
III
Miss Elizabeth's own share, on the two
faithful friends of his family.
Something in the faces of the two old
women made him stop at last. Miss
Elizabeth was wiping her eyes with her
apron. Miss Grizzell looked as if she
had received a blow.
、
"Pit doon yer apron, Leezbeth," said
Miss Grizzell, with dignity; "he's no
worth the greetin' for. An' God forgie
ye, laddie," she added, turning to Alek,
"that ever I should live to say that o'
yer faither's son !"
The unhappy boy left the shop, turned
rapidly out of the High street and gained
the beach the nearest way.
His passion was spent. He was only
utterly wretched. What had been the
worth of his college honors? What the
use of the self-denial he had practiced
daily. He almost wished he had never
returned to Glenarran. What an utter
failure he had been!
112
Memories of the Manse.
And then self-reproach began to make
itself felt. He knew Miss Elizabeth's
curiosity of old; it was great, but never
meant to be unkind. And Miss Grizzell,
always a welcome and honored guest in
the Manse-he could not forget her
look, and something began to rise in his
throat as he recalled her old affection for
him; her simple gifts that had marked
every birthday in his life; her pride in all
his successes. What would they think at
the Manse of the way he had requited it
all? How his father's brow would darken!
And his mother-he believed it would
break her heart.
He glanced up at the study window;
there was no light in it. And then he
suddenly remembered that it was prayer-
meeting night, and that he had been
wishing that very morning that his father
would call on him to pray, and planning
the very words in which his petitions.
should be couched. On prayer-meeting
The Minister's Eldest Son.
113
nights Miss Grizzéll always dropped in
before service began, and so everything
must be already known at home. But
no; it was only that very day that he had
heard the minister say to his mother,
"David McTavish is drinking again."
So the sisters were at home with the
skeleton of their house, and he had chosen
that night of all others to add to their
misery.
The tide was out. He climbed up the
rocks at the Mermaid's Tryst, and threw
himself on the bank above. The full
moon rose from behind the hills and
lighted up the sea. He knew just how
it was shining in at the study window,
making the old books glisten and bright-
ening the tarnished gold of the medallions.
He lay there long, and thought is
quicker than time. Resolutions that are
to decide our destiny for time and for
eternity may be born in a moment, but
it is a moment in which we live an age.
8
114
Memories of the Manse.
Once his frame shook with sobs.
Poor
boy! he was only a boy after all, though
he had thought himself so great a man;
and it was a token for good that his boy's
heart was coming back to him.
When he rose, it was to fall on his
knees, and none of the finished periods
he had planned
curred to him.
for prayer-meeting oc-
Part of his
Part of his prayer was
uttered and part unexpressed. It was all
from the depths of his overburdened
heart, and was doubtless accepted in
God's sight as the evening sacrifice.
With a lighter heart he recrossed the
sands, then swiftly narrowing with the in-
coming tide, and passing the road that
led to the Manse, went straight to the
little shop in the High street.
Miss Grizzell came to the door, night-
cap on head, candle in hand. On seeing
who her visitor was, a hard, set look came
over her face. "Weel," said she, “hae
ye come to feenish yer job?"
The Minister's Eldest Son.
115
Alek did not falter.
"I have come to
beg your pardon, Miss Grizzell."
Miss Grizzell's look hardly changed,
but she said briefly, "Come in."
They sat down together in the little
shop, and Alek said what he had to say
in a way that brought a wistful look into
Miss Grizzell's eyes and carried convic-
tion to her heart.
Leezbeth's i' her bed," she said, when
he had finished, "an' I winna wauk her
up. She'll forgive ye fast eneugh the
morn; she wasna half sae angert as me."
There was silence between them for
a while, and both hearts grew softer.
"Alek," said Miss Grizzell, at last, "there
is a sicht up stair that naebody but yer
faither and mither,—forbye me an' Leez-
beth an' the auld docter,—has ever seen.
An', thinkin'o' Dawvit an' o' you, my
hert has been sair this nicht.
"Ance on a time," she continued,
'Dawvit was as bonnie a lad as ye wad
116
Memories of the Manse.
want to see,―no a braw scholar, like you
Alek, but just sae bonnie he won a' the
leddies' herts; an' fine at makin' sangs an'
singin' them, and playin' on the fiddle,-
that my father thocht jist like the abomi-
nation o' desolation spoken o' by Dawnel
the prophet, and thrummin' on that
ither stringed instrument ye play wi' the
fingers. Weel, when this trouble cam
upon us it was hard to thole. It was jist
aboot the time yer faither cam here, an'
he tried to comfort me, honest man.
'Canna ye say,' says he, Shall I receive
good at the hand of the Lord, an' shall I
not also receive evil?' 'If it was the
Lord,' says I, 'but to me it looks mair
like the deil.' The Lord often works
by ill instruments,' says he, 'but its nane
the less the Lord.' Weel, to mak' a long
story short, I think the minister brocht
me nigher to God, an', in bringin' me
nigher to God, he brocht me nigher to
hissel'. An' when ye were born, laddie,
The Minister's Eldest Son.
117
my prayer went up that the trouble that
had come upon us micht never come upon
them that lo'ed you. There's never been
a day in yer life that I haena prayed for
you; an' I think yer ain mither has ne'er
ta'en mair pride i' yer weel-doin'.
"But I didna bring ye in to preach to
you, but to pit an idee i' yer heid. The
claes are no' that ill, seein' yer ain hard-
earned siller payed for them, though the
breeks are maybe ower ticht, and the
coat-tails ower long; an', if ye are near-
sichtit, Alek, a guid pair o' glasses wad
be mair use than that cumstairy thing ye
cock i' yer ee. But that's neither here
nor there. Ye're to be a minister, an'
ye're gettin' learnin', an' they tell me ye
hae the gift o' the gab. Noo, do ye hae
to wait for the layin' on o' hauns afore
ye begin an' work for God?
for God? Is't no'
o' mair accoont what ye do for ither
fowk's souls than what ye pit o' yer ain
back?"
118
Memories of the Manse.
66
Would you have me preach, Miss
Grizzell?" asked Alek, in surprise.
"Do ye mean wad I hae ye git up in
yer faither's poopit, to get pulled oot by
thae lang coat-tails by Geordie Cawmitt?
Nae likely! But I'd hae ye gie up
strivin' an' fechtin' wi' the bairns an'
Will-gowk; to strive an' fecht,-an' no
yer ain
ain strength, laddie,-wi' them that
Satan has led captive at his will; maist
o' a', wi' them like puir Dawvit, up the
stair."
i'
"But my father is not a temperance
man, Miss Grizzell," objected Alek.
"An' gin he's no'? nae mair was mine.
But gin he had lieved to see Dawvit, he
wad hae been. I'm an auld woman, an'
the youngsters laugh at the shape o'
my
cloak an' the size o' my bannet, but the
progress o' the soul isna measured by the
cut o' the claes. What's the use o' lievin
later, if ye're no' to learn mair ?"
A strain of music stole softly down
The Minister's Eldest Son.
119
3
stairs.
The voice was tremulous but
sweet, and this was what it sang:
"What time my heart is overwhelmed
And in perplexity,
Do Thou me lead unto the Rock
That higher is than I."
66
"It's Dawvit," said Miss Grizzell, in
answer to Alek's look of inquiry. When-
ever the fever is on him, he's aye brakin'
oot wi' some verse frae an auld Psalm.
Ance I could no bear to hear him. I
used to feel as if it was blasphemy. But
yer mither learned me better. Is't no'
a sign o' grace,' says she, 'that when his
mind is wanderin' he does na stray off to
the ale-house or what he hears there, but
gangs back to what he learned i' the auld
innocent days, an' sings a sang o' Zion?'
I canna tell ye hoo the thocht has com-
forted me."
Alek rose to go. "Good night, Miss
Grizzell; I will not forget all you have
said."
I 20
Memories of the Manse.
"God bless ye, laddie," said Miss
Grizzell, heartily, as she shook hands
with him at the shop door; "and God
I help us a'!" she added, as she took up
her candle and went up stairs to keep her
solitary watch by David's bed.
Should the reader wander to the Glen-
arran of to-day and see the reforms that
have been wrought there, specially in the
region of the Fisher Biggins, since the
days of which I write, he will be sure to
hear in connection with them the name
of Alek Douglas.
The very first lecture delivered by
Alek in Glenarran was on behalf of the
Temperance Society, a society he had
been mainly instrumental in organizing;
and the second was on aggressive Chris-
tian work, and in it he showed, with all
his father's vigor joined to his own en-
thusiasm of youth, that standing in the
pulpit and calling, "Ho! every man," is
The Minister's Eldest Son.
121
¡
only a part of Christ's work; that the
only way to win the lost is to seek them
out in their haunts, not with the superior-
ity of saint seeking sinner, but with the
love of brother meeting brother, hand to
hand and heart to heart.
I
Alek's father was present at both lect-
ures, and there were many to wonder
what were the minister's thoughts.
feel sure that they were in substance iden-
tical with Miss Grizzell's words, already
quoted : "What's the use o' lievin' later.
if ye're no' to learn mair?"
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1

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Memories of the manse: glimpses of Scot
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A4 Page 8543210
AIIM SCANNER TEST CHART #2
4 PT
6 PT
8 PT
Spectra
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",/?$0123456789
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:”,./?$0123456789
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:',./?$0123456789
10 PT ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
Times Roman
4 PT
6 PT
8 PT
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:'../?$0123456789
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
10 PT ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
4 PT
6 PT
8 PT
Century Schoolbook Bold
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
10 PT ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
4 PT
6 PT
News Gothic Bold Reversed
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:'',/?$0123456789
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:',./?$0123456789
8 PT ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
10 PT ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
4 PT
6 PT
8 PT
Bodoni Italic
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?80123456789
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
10 PT ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz;:",./?$0123456789
ΑΒΓΔΕΞΘΗΙΚΛΜΝΟΠΡΣΤΥΩΝΨΖαβγδεξθηικλμνοπορστνωχ ζ=7",/St=#°><ΕΞ
Greek and Math Symbols
4 PT
6 PT
8 PT
ΑΒΓΔΕΞΘΗΙΚΛΜΝΟΠΦΡΣΤΥΩΧΨΖαβγδεξθηικλμνοπφροτυωχψί=7",/S+=#°><><><=
ΑΒΓΔΕΞΘΗΙΚΛΜΝΟΠΦΡΣΤΥΩΧ Ζαβγδεξθηικλμνοπόρστυωχψίπτ",./St##°><><><Ξ
10 ΡΤ ΑΒΓΔΕΞΘΗΙΚΛΜΝΟΠΦΡΣΤΥΩΧΨΖαβγδεξθηικλμνοπορστνωχ ίΞτ",/St=#°><><=
White
MESH HALFTONE WEDGES
I
|
65
85
100
110
133
150
Black
Isolated Characters
e
3
1
2
3
a
4
5
6
7
о
8
9
0
h
B
O5¬♡NTC
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A4 Page 6543210
A4 Page 6543210
©B4MN-C
65432
MEMORIAL DRIVE, ROCHESTER, NEW YORK 14623
RIT ALPHANUMERIC RESOLUTION TEST OBJECT, RT-1-71
0123460
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5 582
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3 32E
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​14 E2 S
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12E25
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5 EBS
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TYWES
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ROCHESTER INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY, ONE LOMB
PRODUCED BY GRAPHIC ARTS RESEARCH CENTER