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BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
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 ■J THE MAM3E 
 
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 1841 AHD 1851 
 
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 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY 
 
 OR 
 
 BELL O THE MANSE 
 
 A TALE OF SCOTTISH VILLAGE LIFE BETWEEN 
 
 1841 AND 1851 
 
 T. 
 
 5- 
 i. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN STRATHESK 
 
 
 W 
 
 
 TORONTO 
 
 WILLIAM BRIGGS, 78 & 80 KING ST. EAST 
 a W. COATES, MoNTRBAii, Qdb. S. F. HUESTIS, Halifax. N.S. 
 
 •« 
 
 1885 
 
c. X 
 
 200488 
 
 ■!, 
 
 Entkrfd, according to the Act of the Parllamflnt of Canada, In th« ynar onn thotwand fllghl 
 hundred and eighty-flve, by William Briogs, agent for John Tod, Bt. Leonard's. Scotland. 
 in the Office of the Minister of AKricaltur^ at Ottawa. 
 
 '^r 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 rriHESE "Bits from Blinkbonny ** were grouped 
 •*■ together by the Author to beguile the tedium of 
 a protracted period of domestic quarantine. They are 
 not only his first attempt at sustained literary work, 
 but they were commenced without any concerted plan. 
 
 Blinkbonny was selected as a pretty name for a 
 Scottish village, but the Author himself cannot fix the 
 precise locality; and all the names he has used are 
 supposititious, excepting those of such public characters 
 as Dr. Duff, Dr. Guthrie, etc. 
 
 Owing to his having adopted the autobiographical 
 form, the Author has experienced more difficulty in 
 writing the preface than any other part of the book, 
 as, although most of the incidents are founded on fact, 
 a good deal of imported matter has been required to 
 form a connected narrative. He also knows that in 
 
VI 
 
 PREFACE, 
 
 bringing together the varieties of character and inci- 
 dent that an ordinary Scotch village affords, he has 
 passed " from grave to gay, from lively to severe," in 
 some instances with injudicious abruptness, and that 
 there are other defects for which he needs to apologize; 
 but as even his rear'ers will probably differ as to where 
 these occur, it is not desirable for him to dwell on 
 them. 
 
 Tiie Author is not in any way connected with the 
 Free Church of Scotland, and at the outset he had no 
 intention of treating so largely as he has done of the 
 "Disruptiou" of 1843; if, however, he induces the 
 rising generation to study the past and the present of 
 tliat great movement, neither they nor he will regret 
 the prominence given to it in this volume. 
 
 The illustrations with which the book is embellished 
 are "composition" sketches; but the Author confidently 
 leaves these to introduce themselves. 
 
 The idiom of the Scottish language — the dear old 
 Doric — has been to the Author a difficult matter to 
 render, so as to be at once intelligible to ordinary 
 readers and fairly representative of the everyday 
 mother tongue of the common people of Scotland. 
 He hopes that he has succeeded in doing this, as well 
 
 « «■ 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 vii 
 
 as in preserving a few of the floating traditions of the 
 passing generation which are so rapidly being swept 
 away by the absorbing whirlpool of these bustling 
 times, and that nis readers will follow with kindly 
 interest these homely records of the various subjects 
 he has tried to portray in these "Bits from Blink- 
 bonny/' 
 
 PKEFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 The author is delighted to find you so hurriedly 
 callei for, that he has only time to express the 
 hopv«% that you will receive as kindly a welcome as 
 your precursor has done. 
 
 Februuiy 1882. 
 
■Till 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 ■f 
 i 
 
 \ 
 
 PEEFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION. 
 
 The author gladly avails himself of the oTjportunity 
 you afford him, to express his gratification at the 
 warm reception which Bell and her friends at 
 Blinkbonny have met with on both sides of the 
 Atlantic, as well as to make a few verbal corrections. 
 
 ** The cleanest corn that e'er was dicht 
 ^ lluy Ua'e some pylea o* caif in." 
 
 JvXy 1882. 
 
 11 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 THE MANSE. 
 
 The Artist and his Bits — Blinkbonny — The Author and his 
 Relations — The Good Folks at Greenknowe — The Manse — 
 Once thinking of getting married — The Interrupted Call — 
 Mr. and Mrs. Barrie — Bell of the Manse — Wee Nellie — 
 Her Illness, Death, and Grave — "A Butterfly on a Gi-ave" 
 {Mr». Sigoumey), .,..,. 
 
 PAOK 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A QUIET EVENING AT THE MANSE, 
 
 Bell's Sliding Scale— Her Pattens— The Hospitality of the 
 Manse — Be judeecious — James and his Skates — Mrs. 
 Barrie's Experiences — Mr. Barrio's Illness — The Good 
 Samaritan — A Startling Proposal, . . * • 
 
 22 
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 
 THE MARRIAGE AND THE HOME-COMING, 
 
 ••The Books"— P. P.O.— Marriage Presents— '• The Confession 
 of Faith"— Toasts— ''The Frostit Corn"— "The Country 
 Rockin' "—Auntie Mattie — "The Farmer's Ingle" — Peggy 
 Ritchie on the Churchyard — A Lamb Leg and a Berry 
 Tart — Mathiesou's Heid, . . • • . 
 
 il! 
 
 41 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 THE TWO SIDES OF THE CHURCH QUESTION. 
 
 Coming Events— Bell and the Seed Potatoes— Her Idea of the 
 Government — Enowe Park— Spunks — The Town-Clerk of 
 Ephesus — Bell's summing up — Daisy — The Eve of Battle 
 — Sir John M'Lelland's Opinions on the "Evangelicals" — 
 Patronage — Preaching Competitions — Little Gab — Non- 
 Intrusion and Voting, ..... 
 
 FAQB 
 
 58 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BLINKBONNY AND THE DISRUPTION. 
 
 Bell's Opinion of Knowe Park — Mr. Barrie's Return — The 
 Deputation's Visit to the Manse — Mr. Barrie's Statement 
 — Mr. Taylor's Vievs s— George Brown on the Crisis — His 
 Covenanting Relics, ..... 
 
 85 
 
 •i 
 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE DISRUPTION AND BLINKBONNY. 
 
 The Meeting in Beltane Hall— The End of the Ten Years' 
 Conflict— George Brown's Exercises — The Bellman's Diffi- 
 culty — Sabbath Services at the Annie Green — "Thae 
 Cath'lics " — l^e Secession Church — Mr. Barrie's Successor 
 — Bell and Smoking — "Hillend" on Doctors and Ministers 
 — A Man amang Sheep, ..... 
 
 90 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 OUT OF THE OLD HOME AND INTO THE NEW. 
 
 Leaving the Manse — Dr. Guthrie and the Children — Nellie's 
 Tibby — Well settled— Bell's Experiment with the Hens — 
 Dan Corbett— Braid Nebs— Babbie's Mill, ♦ .126 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 BLINKBONNY FREE CHURCH, 
 
 The Disruption of 1843— Hardships — Scotch Villages and Church 
 Matters — The New Church — The Session and Deacons — 
 The Beadle, Walter Dalgleish — The Precentorship — Psalms 
 and Hymns — Mr. Barrie's New Life — Foreign Missions — 
 The Assembly's Decision — The Living Child — Saxpence — 
 ** Gude Siller gaun oot o' the Country " — Reminiscences of 
 Dr. Du£^ ....... 
 
 PAOK 
 
 164 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 BELL AT HOME IN KNOWE PARK. 
 
 The Three Ministers of Blinkbonny — Mr. Walker— The Ten 
 Virgins— The finest o' the Wheat— Bell's Fee— Alloa Yam 
 — Bell's Cooking — Sheep's-head — Mr. Kirkwood and the 
 Potato-Soup —Dan in the Kitchen — Mr. Gordon o' the 
 Granaries and the Smugglers — Dan at Nellie's Grave — Mr. 
 Barrii's Visit to Dan, . . . • . 
 
 177 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 INCIDENTS IN BLINKBONNY, 
 
 Miss Park on Dan — The Sweep's dead — Mrs. Gray's Elegy on 
 ♦ her Husband — The Coffin for naething — The New School- 
 master — The Rr-wt Beef in the Lobby — The Examination 
 Committee — '**ioo*to get there" — George Brown's Death 
 — Scripture References — Mrs. Barrie and Mr. Corbett— 
 Dan and the Pictures — Dan's Bath — His Dream — Dan at 
 Church— His Visit to Babbie's Mill— Colonel Gordon's First 
 Visit- Sir John M'Lelland at the Soiree— "The An^ol's 
 Whisper " {Samuel Lover), . , ♦ . 
 
 20fi 
 
 CHAPTER XI, 
 
 CHANGES A T KNO WE PARK, 
 
 The Dorcas Society — The Morisonian Controversy — Colonel 
 Gordon's Second Visit— A Real Scotch Dinner — Champagne 
 
m^^^ 
 
 xll 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 — ^Dan an' the Duke o* Gordon — The Smuggler's Log-book 
 —Colonel Gordon's Will— Dan's Bank— The Call to Edm- 
 . burgh — No-Popery Agitation— David Tait o' Blackbrae — 
 The Sow and the Corinthians— Bell woo'd — Mrs. Barrie 
 breaks the Ice — Bell won — Found out and congratulated, . 
 
 PAOB 
 
 230 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ANOTHER MARRIAGE AND HOME-COMING, 
 
 The Forms of Procedure — Reception of the News of Bell's 
 Marriage by Mr. Taylor, and by Sir John M'Lelland — 
 "Her Weight in Gold"— Bell's Presents— " Hook ma 
 Back " — Mr. Walker's Violin — Bell's Marriage and Home- 
 coming — The Infar Cake — Creeling — Dan, "Burke," and 
 the Noisy Convoy — The Vexing Pig — The " Kirkin'," 
 
 259 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 The Packing at Knowe Park— The Bachelor ^Jmbrella— Nellie's 
 Box — Dan and Rosie — Dan on Eyang>lical Effort— On 
 "The Angel's Whisper "—Bell in Edinb irgh— Home to 
 Blackbrae— Andrew Taylor's Criticiama, , . , 284 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS* 
 
 Tkk Artist's Bit, • . • 
 
 Blinkbonnt, . • • • 
 
 Bell and " DaiST,'* , • • 
 
 Babbie's Mill, . • • • 
 
 Dumbarton Castle, . . . 
 
 Bell's " Hooss o' her Aiit " — Blaorbrab, 
 
 , Page 6 
 70 
 169 
 197 
 260 
 
 • II 
 
 • »t 
 
 I* 
 
 • H 
 
I 
 
 % 
 
 y 
 
 BITS PROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 CHAPTER t 
 
 M> 
 
 THE MANSE AND ITS INMATES, 
 
 "But how the subject theme may gang, 
 Let time and chance determine ; 
 Perhaps it may turn out a sang, 
 Perhaps turn out a sermon." — Burnt, 
 
 A N eminent artist, a member of the Royal Scottish 
 "^•^ Academy, who, although well up in the seventies, 
 and feeling many of the infirmities of advanced age, 
 still continues to enrich the world by as charming 
 landscapes and 6risp sea-pieces as he produced in his 
 younger days, was showing me some of his sketches 
 from nature, many of them bearing traces of repeated 
 handling. His face brightened up when a well- 
 thumbed favourite was lighted on amongst the pro- 
 miscuous contents of the old portfolio. With his eye 
 fixed on the sketch, and his hand moving as if either 
 the pencil or the brush were in it, he told with anima- 
 tion wliere he made this sketch or took that " bit" 
 
B/TS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 " Ah ! " said be, " painting is a difficult, a very 
 difficult thing ; in fact, it's just made up of ^Uts* — ^just 
 bits. A something takes your eye, — a nook, a clump 
 of trees, often a single tree, a boulder, or rocks (grand 
 effects of light and shade on rocks) — ay, even the 
 shape or tinge of a cloud. Well, to work you go, and 
 down with it. — There," said he, as he lifted what 
 seemed a mere scrawl on a half-sheet of old note- 
 paper, " I took that at the Bank door. I was struck 
 with the effect of the sunlight on water falling over a 
 barrel that a man was filling in the river, and thought 
 it would make a nice picture. I got that bit of paper 
 out of the Bank, took off my hat, laid the paper on it, 
 sketched it off in — oh ! less than five minutes, and 
 put it "n canvas next day. There's another. I did 
 that bit on the leaf of my fishing pocket-book at 
 Makumrich, near old Gilston Castle. Now there," 
 said he, taking up a rough-looking, unfinished sea- 
 Bcene in oil, "that has been a very useful bit. I 
 was sketching North Berwick Harbour, when all at 
 once I was struck with an effect of light and shade on 
 the sea. I was able to hit it exactly ; " and as he said 
 this, he moved his head from side to side and scanned 
 the picture, saying, " That bit has been of great use 
 to me, although I have never made a finished picture 
 of it The ' effect,' the gleam, the tone are as nearly 
 
THE ARTIST AND HIS ** BITS.** 
 
 perfect as possible. Ah," continued he, laying down 
 the sketch, and turning to his easel, on which lay a 
 snow scene, — an old thatched cottage, in my opinion 
 quite finished, — " now there's lots of bits t,o work 
 up in that picture." And sometimes shaking his 
 brush, and sometimes whirling it in a very small 
 circle close to the picture, but never touching it, he 
 said, "There — and there — and perhaps there. Ahl 
 nobody would believe what a labour it is to make a 
 good picture, with all the hits and hits ! " 
 
 I am but an aspirant in literature, and would never 
 presume to compare myself with the veteran artist, or 
 think that I could ever arrange my bits of village 
 gossip and incident with the artistic skill which has 
 earned for him the order of merit that he has so 
 honourably won and so worthily wears, but I confess 
 to a desire to present some of the bits of the everyday 
 social life of Blinkbonny in such a form as to give my 
 readers an idea of its lights and shadows. 
 
 Blinkbonny is more of a village than a town, 
 although it is generally spoken of by the outside world 
 as a town, owing to its having its small weekly market 
 and occasional fairs. It lies fully thirty miles inland 
 from Edinburgh, and is the centre of a good agricul- 
 tural district, with a background of moorland and hills. 
 My father was a merchant in ii, — a very general 
 
1^^ 
 
 i 
 
 I! 
 
 i 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 merchant, as he dealt in grain, wool, seeds, groceries, 
 cloth, hardware, and various other commodities. This 
 may seem a strange mixture in these days of the 
 division of labour and subdivision of trades, but such 
 dealers were not uncommon fifty years ago, and they 
 were frequently men of considerable capital and influ- 
 ence. My elder and only brother was a partner with 
 my father in the business ; and as I had early expressed 
 a desire to be a minister, I was sent to Edinburgh to 
 prosecute my studies in that direction, and had com- 
 pleted my fourth session at college, when the death of 
 my brother rendered it necessary that I should do all 
 in my power to supply his place. 
 
 I had been but a few months at home, when my father, 
 whose health had been failing for some years, became 
 a confirmed invalid. My brother's death had not only 
 affected his spirits, but injured his health, and within 
 little more than a year after this heavy trial the old 
 man was laid beside his wife and eldest son in the 
 churchyard of Blinkbonny. My sisters, all of them 
 older than myself, were married, excepting Maggie ; and 
 about a year after my father's death Maggie became 
 Mrs. M'Lauchlan, so that I was left a very young 
 inmate of Bachelor Hall. When I had time to feel 
 lonely I did so, but the demands of bu' iness kept me 
 thoroughly employed ; and although I joined habitually 
 
 ^■■i 
 
THE FOLKS AT GREENKNOWE, 
 
 in the socialities of the neighbourhood, I did not 
 seriously think of getting married until I was called 
 K.1 t'j act as bridegroom's man to my schoolfellow 
 and college companion, John M'Nab, now the Reverend 
 John M'Nab. He married Mary Stewart of Greenknowe, 
 th3 daughter of a small proprietor on the outskirts of 
 our village. Her sister Agnes was bridesmaid, and we 
 were necessarily brought a good deal into one another's 
 society. I had often met her before, and liked her in 
 a general way, but at her sister's marriage I came 
 fully under the influence of her charms. There was 
 something — well, something — I cannot describe it by 
 any other word than just " something " — that fairly 
 possessed me. For days afterwards she was in my head, 
 in my dreams, in my heart I will not describe our 
 courtship ; it was neither long nor romantic. I wooed 
 and won her, got Mrs. Stewart's consent, and on New 
 Year's Day 1841 we fixed that our marriage should 
 take place in the last week of January. 
 
 Mrs. Stewart felt the cold weather severely, and 
 could not venture to call at the manse to request 
 Mr. Barrie, our worthy parish minister, to perform the 
 ceremony. She asked Agnes to go in her stead, but 
 Agnes could not muster courage to do so — she even 
 felt too shy to write to Mr. Barrie ; so, although it waa 
 not exactly according to the strict rules of etiquette 
 
r 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 I \ 
 
 T promised to call on Mr. Barrie next day, and to 
 arrange the matter with him. 
 
 The manse stood on the top of a piece of slightly 
 rising ground, about a quarter of a mile to the south- 
 west of the village. The situation was a pleasant 
 one. It commanded on three sides extensive views 
 of a well-cultivated country, backed by high and 
 picturesque hills ; the village bounded the view on the 
 north-east. Near the manse stood the neat church, 
 surrounded by the churchyard. There were also a park 
 of about four acres, a garden covering nearly an acre, 
 and some outhouses, the whole enclosed by a compact 
 wall. 
 
 I had been on intimate terms with all the inmates 
 of the manse, from Bell, the only and worthy servant, 
 upwards; but my errand made me feel rather confused, 
 and instead of the usual offhand remark to Bell, vary- 
 ing from, " Weel, Bell, hoo's a' wi' ye ?" to comments on 
 the weather or crops, as suited the season, I bluntly 
 asked if Mr. Barrie was engaged. There was a flavour 
 of tartness in Bell's manner as she replied, "Mr. 
 Barrie's aye thrang, but he's aye ready to see onybody 
 that wants him partic'larly. I'll speir at liim if he's 
 engaged," and she disappeared. Mr. Barrie himself 
 came to the door, shook hands with me with more 
 than usual heartiness, put a special emphasis on the 
 
 1 
 
to 
 
 
 
 ■^ 
 /. 
 
i ■ 
 
 a cJ 
 
THE INTERRUPTED CALL, 
 
 hap^ in wishing me " a happy New Yepr," gave my 
 hand a sort of squeeze, took a Ic g look at me, and 
 with a smirk on his face said, " Come in, Mr. Martin, 
 come in." He had not called me " Mr." before, but 
 only plain Eobert ; and from the blithe way in which 
 he showed me into the " study," I saw that he knew 
 my position, if not my errand. 
 
 Our conversation was at first general, and on my 
 side jerky. I did not follow up intelligently the 
 subjects he introduced, but was either silent or 
 rambling on quite irrelevant topics. He mpde a long 
 pause, doubtless to induce me to lead, as he evidently 
 saw I was not able to follow. The not uncommon 
 weakness of Scotchmen, of trying to conceal strong 
 emotions even on subjects on which they feel very 
 keenly, was working in me. I was heart-glad at the 
 prospect of my marriage, and well I might; but I 
 wished to appear very cool, so, as if merely beginning 
 another subject, I said in a conversational way, " I 
 was once thinking of getting married." Scarcely had 
 I finished the sentence, when Bell announced that Sir 
 John M'Lelland would like to speak to Mr. Barrie 
 when he was disengaged. Knowing that Sir John was 
 the largest landowner in the parish, and the patron of 
 the church, and that he was taking an active part in 
 a church extension scheme in which Mr. Barrie was 
 
fj».J>J»l-l«."^?» 
 
 I 
 
 8 
 
 BITS J^ROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 deeply interested, I at once left the " study," stating 
 that I would call to-morrow night, and made for 
 Greenknowe, where I was bantered by both ladies, but 
 especially by Mrs. Stewart, when I told about " once 
 thinking of getting married." 
 
 Laying the emphasis first on the once, then on the 
 thinking, then on both, she said, " Is that all the length 
 you are ? You should think twice — second thoughts 
 are often best. Agnes, if you had either called or 
 written as I wished, we could have had the invitations 
 out to-day ; but perhaps Eobert will take the second 
 thought to-night, and until he quite makes up his mind 
 we must wait with patience." 
 
 Next night found me at the manse door, which Bell 
 " answered." I was very frank, bnc Bell had barely 
 digested last night's slight, and before I had finished 
 my salutation to her she said dryly, "It'll be the 
 minister ye want the nicht again ?" and showed me into 
 the study. Mr. Batrie, after expressing regret at the 
 sudden breaking up of our last night's interview, asked 
 me if the day had been fixed. I told him that we 
 Avould prefer the last Tuesday of January, if that date 
 suited him. He at once said, " I'll make it suit me ; " 
 and after noting it in a memorandum book, he pro- 
 ceeded, although I had not mentioned the name of my 
 future wife, to speak very nicely of the good folks at 
 
 thi 
 
 wi 
 hasi 
 am 
 qui^ 
 
THE NEXT VISIT TO THE MANSE. 
 
 Greenknowe ; of the late Mr. Stewart, who had been 
 D"^e of his elders, and from wlioin, in the earlier years 
 of hib ministry, he had received much useful counsel ; 
 of Mrs. Stewart's almost motherly kindness ever since 
 he came to the parish; of his great esteem for 
 Miss Stewart (my Agnes), and of her devotion to her 
 father, especially in his long and last illness. He 
 also spoke of my late father and brother as excellent, 
 very excellent men, said some things about myself 
 which I will not repeat, and taking me by the hand, 
 said, " Humanly speaking, your marriage promises to 
 be in every respect a happy event for all concerned. 
 May God bless you both, and make you blessings to 
 one another, to all your circle, to the Church, and to 
 the world." 
 
 I thanked him warmly, and added that I might 
 trouble him by asking his advice on some matters, 
 and possibly Mrs. Barrie's ; and was proceeding "^o bid 
 him good-night, when he said, "Eobert, this is an 
 occasion, I may say a great occasion, and you must 
 take an egg with us. I told Mrs. Barrie last night 
 that you were ' once thinking of getting married.* She 
 will be delighted to learn that your second thought 
 has got the length of fixing the day. And, whilst I 
 am in the habit of giving all young bridegrooms a few 
 quiet hints, I would like you to have a chat with 
 
:ff 
 
 lO 
 
 BITS FROM BUNKBONNY. 
 
 .'Vv 
 
 both of us. You will find Mrs. Barrie's counsel sound 
 and practical, so we'll join her in the parlour;" and 
 suiting the action to the word, he lifted the lamp, and 
 asking me to follow him, made for the snug parlour, 
 where he announced me as " a subject of compound 
 interest now, not simple as before." 
 
 Mrs.Barrie was carefully darning a stocking, which she 
 laid on the table as I entered, and shaking my hand 
 with great heartiness, she said, " I need hardly wish you 
 a happy new year, Mr. Martin. You are as sure to be 
 happy as anybody can be sure of happiness in this world. 
 1 hope you consider yourself a very lucky man ? " _ 
 
 I made as nice a reply as I could. Mrs. Barrie repeated 
 her husband's " You must take an egg with us ; " and 
 layinf3* the half-darned stocking into her work-basket 
 on the back table, she looked into a cradle that stood 
 in the cosiest corner of the room, and seeing that all 
 was right there, she said, " I must see that the other 
 little folks are happit before I sit down," and left the 
 room. But before I tell of the evening's quiet enjoy- 
 ment in the manse parlour, I will say something about 
 the inmates of the manse itself. 
 
 Mr. Barrie was ordained as minister of Blinkbonuy 
 in 1830, and early in 1831 he brought his young 
 wife, tiU then Mary Gordon, .ome to the manse. He 
 was a son of the manse, a son of the minimum 
 
 il 
 
THE INMATES OF THE MANSE. 
 
 CI 
 
 stipend ; when half through his preparatory studies he 
 became a son of the Widows* Fund. Mrs. Barrie's 
 parents had been in a very comfortable worldly- 
 position for the first sixteen years of her life, but 
 through circumstances over which they had no con- 
 trol, and to which she never referred, their means 
 had been greatly reduced. Her father died when she 
 was eighteen years of age ; her mother survived her 
 father about four years. She was thus an orphan at 
 twenty-two. She was twenty-five years of age when 
 she was married, Mr. Barrie being her senior by 
 fully one year ; and whilst she brought to the manse 
 " a good providing," she brought little money or 
 "tocher," as a bride's marriage portion is called in 
 Scotland. The income of the minister of Blinkbonny, 
 or, to use the church phrase, the "stipend," was 
 paid partly in money and partly in grain, and 
 averaged about £160 yearly. The furnishing of 
 the manse and the minister's library had required 
 and received careful consideration. Even the provid- 
 ing of live stock for the park, to commence with, 
 involved an outlay that in the circumstances was 
 considerable; but by Bell's indefatigable industry 
 and management, the cow, the hens, the garden, and 
 even the pig became such important sources of supply 
 in the household economy, that any description of the 
 

 [ ' I 
 
 -^ 
 
 '■' 
 
 13 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 inmates of the manse would be utterly incomplete which 
 did not make honourable mention of worthy Bell. 
 
 Bell had come with Mrs. Barrie as her first servant, 
 and had grown up as, if not into, a part of the family. 
 She was fully the middle height, muscular, not stout 
 but well-conditioned, had a good complexion, a " weel- 
 faured " face, keen, deep-set, dark eyes ; and altogether 
 she was a comely woman. I believe her full name 
 was Isabella Cameron, but she was only known as 
 Bell, occasionally Mr. Barrie's Bell ; so much so that 
 when a letter came to the manse, addressed " Miss 
 Cameron," both Mr. and Mrs. Barrie had laid it aside^ 
 expecting that some stranger would call for it, and 
 were instructing Bell to return it to the post office 
 itL the evening, should no Miss Cameron cast up, 
 when Bell said, " My name's Cameron ; it'll maybe be 
 for me." It was, much to Mrs. Barrie's embarrass- 
 ment, and told of the death of Bell's aunt Bell 
 had few relations, — none that seemed to care for hf.iv 
 and consequently none that she kept up intimacy with. 
 
 She was a year older than Mrs. Barrie. Her 
 first "place" had been in a small farmhouse, where 
 the manners were very primitive, and the work 
 was very constant. One of her questions shortly after 
 coming to the manse was, " Does Mr. Barrie aye take 
 his dinner with his coat on ? " a thing she had not 
 
BELL OF THE MANSE. 
 
 13 
 
 seen before. Mrs. Barrie had a little difficulty in 
 getting her to understand the proprieties, but none 
 in getting her to do exactly as she was told. Bell 
 felt nothing a bother, took pleasantly any explanation 
 given as to her mistakes, laughed at them when 
 pointed out, and with a cheerful "I'll mind that," 
 thanked Mrs. Barrie. It took her some time to learn 
 the distinctive tones of the bells, the parlour, dining- 
 room, front door, etc. ; and for the first week or two, 
 when a bell was rung, she ran to the nearest room and 
 tried it, then to another, sometimes to the disturbance 
 of the folks inside ; but she soon came to know them. 
 
 It was a sight to see Bell unbuckle her gown, 
 — which when at work she gathered round her, 
 and fastened in some wonderfully fast -loose way, 
 — shake herself, and stalk off in response, especially 
 to the front door, to any ring that seemed peremptory. 
 
 Sir John M'Lelland was making his first call 
 after the marriage. He handed Bell his card, 
 politely asking at the same time if Mr. and Mrs. 
 Barrie were at home. Bell looked at the card, but 
 it was in German text, and therefore unintelligible. 
 She looked at .Sir John, but that did not help her; 
 she then turned on her heel, — the swiftest, cleverest 
 motion of the kind that could be imagined, — walked 
 briskly to Mrs. Barrie, and said, " There's a man at 
 
i^7»r" 
 
 14 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 the door, a weel-put-on man, and he asked for you ; 
 an' he gied me a ticket, an' he's there yet." 
 
 Mrs. Barrie soon put such mistakes right. She 
 found Bell an apt scholar, scrupulously clean, ster- 
 lingly honest, and always busy, though not fussy. 
 At first Bell was most at home among the hens, cows, 
 pigs, and in the garden, but she soon became well 
 up in all household work. Even the addition of the 
 children one by one never seemed to tax Bell's 
 powers heavily. The first two, James and Mary, 
 were healthy, and in Bell's homely phrase, "never 
 looked behind them ; " but the third, " Wee Nellie," 
 had been from her birth " a feeble, delicate little thing." 
 When she was about three years old, scarlet fever 
 attacked the children, beginning with Lewis, the baby. 
 His was a mild case ; so were those of James and 
 Mary, but Nellie's was a severe one. Her pulse ran 
 very high, her little body was covered with the bright 
 scarlet " raslil' her throat sorely affected, her breathing 
 laboured and requiring more effort than the weak 
 constitution could spare. Mrs. Barrie and Bell were 
 unwearied in their efforts to relieve the poor sufferer, 
 and gently was she passed from knee to knee in hei 
 restless moods, gently was she laid down again, and 
 coaxed and humoured and waited on with unspeakably 
 tender care. 
 
 
 wA 
 
 wm 
 
 'J- 
 
 ■■i> 
 
 ^=* 
 
BELL AND WEE NELLIE. 
 
 «s 
 
 Between Bell and Nellie there had been a special 
 intimacy. She had called herself " Bell's bairn ; " and 
 as her age and health did not admit of her joining 
 the other children at play, she was seldom out of 
 the kitchen, except when Bell wrapped her cosily in 
 a plaid, and carried her about the parks or garden, 
 where Bell diverted herself quite as much as the 
 "wee whitefaced girlie," by humouring her childish 
 whims, and joining in, if not provoking, her wonder- 
 ing interest. And ever and anon, as Nellie expressed 
 delight at what Bell said, or did, or pulled, or showed. 
 Bell would press her warmly to her breast, and croon 
 over words of endearment about her " wee croodlin' 
 doo," " her ain darling Nellie," " she was Bell's bairn," 
 and tell her that when she was big she would help 
 Bell to milk " Daisy," and feed the hens. The cosiest 
 corner in the kitchen was Nellie's "housie." There 
 she would play for hours, sometimes sitting on 
 her little stool, and chatting with Bell " like an 
 auld body;" sometimes fondling her black-and-white 
 kitten Tibby ; sometimes putting to sleep her favourite 
 doll " Black Tam," who, although he had neither 
 arms nor legs, and his trunk had by long wear lost 
 the bl|ick paint, and appeared as bare timber well 
 time-soiled, still retained on his head, which had been 
 gouged out to imitate the woolly hair of the negro, 
 
IfJt-JJff -'^kT'*'J'ff.f?TS<5*-?^r?i3V- £■■.'?«'•« «^ 
 
 i6 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 \h 
 
 crescent-shaped indents of his original blackness, and 
 his lips were flecked with streaks of their primitive 
 crimson ; sometimes playing with broken bits of 
 china, drawing Bell's attention to those with g; Id on 
 them as " Nellie's pennies." And not infrequently 
 did Bell take the wee lassie into her kindly lap, and 
 press her to her kindly bosom, and sing, and sigh 
 as she sung, her favourite if not only song of the 
 " Bonnie, bonnie banks of Benloraond." 
 
 It need hardly be recorded that Bell's agony at 
 Nellie's illness was only equalled by that of Mrs. 
 Barrie, — possibly by that of Mr. Earrie, but only 
 possibly. She had been struck with the hectic flush 
 which glowed on Nellie's face, and saw that the fever 
 was sore on her ; but she hoped against hope, until 
 on the seventh day of the illness a spasmodic move- 
 ment of the weak body, and a hazy gleam of the 
 weary eye, revealed to Bell that Nellie's recovery 
 was hopeless. The thought of losing her came so 
 suddenly on Bell, that she nearly broke down in the 
 room ; but restraining herself as her eye rested on 
 Mrs. Barrie's calm motherly face, intent on antici- 
 pating and ministering to the wants of the sufferer, 
 Bell whispered that she would " see if the bairns 
 were all right, and be back immediately," £uid left 
 the room. She walked noiselessly through the lobby. 
 
at the darkesr^^i^^r^7TTZ~t~~~;; 
 
 "guIpC and uttered a bitter ^JM V ^' ^"' 
 wa. what nature demanded th^ I "; '"''' ^^' 
 could have got if but 2' , , ''' """^ ^ «•"« 
 
 Pent-uphear;an:;::;;:::t«^^."-dher 
 
 seeing that the other chiwl! '''"^"- ^"«' 
 
 ^- '^e 3ie.-roo., .rot ^rMrT ^'^ ^"^^ 
 remark or :«ther a sigh abou "f ' ^'* " 
 
 e-erged as she entered sZ. " ""^ '""''"^•" 
 
 cMd gent,, out Of ni b! "^ '^"'■''•-•^ 
 
 <^M ier best to relieve^K . ""'"^ '*^"'«' «"<» 
 
 wsing to the : xrir"''^ -' '''^^'^^"«' - 
 
 --.ot,uiet::crr.e::Thr,;"^"'-- 
 
 "- eyes, then Cosed them^W ^J i-^'' "^"^-^ 
 
 ;-e.with a long ..^ ,„,/;;;;-'• ;";^^''' 
 
 '>^-ingherwea^,.:;if^;/!"^«-^"but 
 -; 3>;e looked wistfuli, Tt ^i Irr^^ -^'- 
 th-^ingly at Mrs. Barrie ;in^ " '^"P*- 
 
 -ee lamb on Ur. Ba„2, tl "r° "^«^' ^1 the 
 Mr. Barrie's study and Z u'^^""^ ""'^*'«^^'^ '» 
 
 -•^' "«ease, sir^te^V .?" ""^ '^■•«''"^' 
 ''eforeyour- She Jan "k ""^^'^ "'" "e 
 
 ^»"- W« into tL ° ""' " ^''^ "''■'«d 'o 
 
 *e s,ck-roon,, and that helped ha. 
 
nf 
 
 1 
 
 ;l ( 
 
 r 
 i; 
 ; 1 
 
 . I 
 
 i ! 
 I 
 
 
 n 
 
 
 i8 
 
 BITS FROM BLWKBONNY. 
 
 greatly. The little darling recognised " papa,** — smiled 
 as she lisped his name, — smiled if possible more sweetly 
 as she heard her mother's voice, in quivering accents, 
 saying, " My ain wee wee Nellie ! " and sighed audibly, 
 *' Mamma's we 3-wee," — she then closed her eyes, and in 
 the act of raising her tiny hand to her throat, it fell 
 powerless, ard Wee Nellie was Wee Nellie no more, 
 or rather, sj Bell said. Wee Nellie for ever. 
 
 Her del icate health and consequent helplessness, as 
 also her f;entleness, had endeared her to Mr. Barrie. 
 When all was over, he muttered, " She was a pleasant 
 child, lovely and beautiful in her life ;" and added in 
 a firmer voice, " It is well with the child, it is welL" 
 Bell lifted the little body from its mother's lap, and 
 laid it gently on the bed. Her tears were streaming, 
 but she had got the first bitter pang over, and putting 
 her arm on, or rather round, Mrs. Barrie's shoulder, 
 she said, " Gome away, mem, for a little ; I'll put all 
 right" Mrs. Barrie obeyed mechanically, and was 
 persuaded by Bell to lie down in btd. There wearied 
 nature asserted her prerogative, and she slept soundly 
 for a considerable tima When she returned to the 
 sick-room, all traces of illness, in the shape of couches, 
 baths, phials, and confu ..ion, were away ; the old crumb- 
 cloth which had been put down to preserve the carpet 
 was exchanged for a clean linen drugget ; the fire was 
 
« THE LAND O THE LEAL,** 
 
 t9 
 
 smiled 
 weetly 
 .ccents, 
 ,udibly, 
 , and in 
 b, it fell 
 more, 
 
 sness, as 
 
 '. Barrie. 
 
 pleasant 
 
 out, the fire-place filled with fir-tops ; the window was 
 open, and the blind drawn down ; here and there 
 about the room were little muslin bags filled with 
 lavender-seed ; and on the mantelpiece, which, when she 
 left, was covered with tumblers and cans and glasses 
 of medical stuff, overlapped with paper, or having 
 spoons in them to the hazard of their balance, stood 
 three tumblers filled with bunches of lavender; and 
 on the bed lay all that remained of Nellie, " dressed 
 and laid out," her little body making all the more 
 appearance that the snow-white bedcover was tightly 
 laid over it. On her face lay a muslin handkerchief, 
 kept down by a bag of lavender on either side. 
 
 As Mrs. Barrie approached the bed, Bell walked to 
 the other side of it, and slowly folded down the face- 
 cloth. All traces of suffering and weariness had 
 vanished; the face was that of a child smiling in sleep. 
 
 " Bell," said Mrs. Barrie, " she's beautiful " (she had 
 never said that before of her or of any of her children), 
 " beautiful, — and she's home. Of such is the kingdom 
 of Heaven." Bell tried to speak. She got the length 
 of faltering out, " For ever with the Lord," when Mrs. 
 Barrie stooped down to kiss her *'lost lamb." Bell 
 rather quickly folded the face-cloth over the mouth, 
 saying, " On the cheek or the broo, mem, no' on the 
 mooth." Although Mrs. Barrie's frame shook as he? 
 
iaiVf-.'7il!--|itifc-.ilf.-h.ii,YfirttrM» 
 
 Mi 
 
 20 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 lips touched the cold brow, she pressed them on it 
 lingeringly, and as she raised herself she said, "I 
 will go to her, she cannot return to me." Then, looking 
 round the room, she said, " Bell, Bell ! I can never 
 repay, and I will never forget, your kindness at this 
 time." She would have said more, but Bell broke 
 down, and Mrs. Barrie broke down, and both were 
 considerably better when the pent-up flood of £;orrow 
 found relief. 
 
 In the churchyard of Blinkbonny stands a little 
 marble slab, only a few inches above the ground 
 bearing the following inscription : — 
 
 HELEN BARRIE 
 
 DIED 18TH MAY 1838, AGED 3 YEARS, 
 
 WITH CHRIST ... FAR BETTER. 
 
 The spot had no more constant visitor than BelL 
 The flowers that in their seasons grew round it were 
 planted by her hand, and tended by her with constant 
 care; the only difference being that in weeding or 
 trimming iJt th*^re was not the quick, bustling energy 
 which she exercised in the garden, but a* reverent 
 slowness unusual for her. She never put her foot on 
 the sod under which Nellie lay ; and although for the 
 
" THE BUTTERFL Y ON A GRA VE.** 
 
 31 
 
 first few visits she sighed mournfully as she read the 
 inscription (and she read it aloud to herself at every 
 visit), it was not long before her face lightened as she 
 uttered the last two words, and she would add in a 
 cheerful confirmatory tone, as if Nellie herself had 
 repeated the epitaph, " Yes, Nellie ; yes, Bell's bairn, 
 far better ; far, far better." 
 
 a little 
 ground 
 
 "A butterfly bask'd on a baby's grave, 
 Where a lily had chanced to grow ; 
 
 * Why art thou here with thy gaudy dye, 
 When she of the blue and sparkling eye 
 Must sleep in the churchyard low ? ' 
 
 Then it lightly soar'd through the sunny air. 
 And spoke from its shining track : 
 
 * I was a worm till I won my wings, 
 
 And she whom thou moum'st; like a seraph sings ; 
 Wooldst thou call the blessed one back ? ' " 
 
 Mrt, Sigoumey. 
 
 lan BelL 
 it were 
 constant 
 leding or 
 ^g energy 
 reverent 
 ^r foot on 
 for the 
 
 %- 
 
■aniHi 
 
 f !!• 
 
 \ 
 
 •\ 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A QUIET EVENING AT THE MANSIB. 
 
 ^Thrift made them easy for the coming day, 
 Religion took the fear of death away ; 
 A cheerful spirit stDl ensured content. 
 And love smiled round them wheresoe'er they went." 
 
 Grabbe. 
 
 T NEED hardly tell that between Mrs. Barrie and 
 Bell the relation lip of mistress and servant was 
 more than cordial, more than intimate, — I can find 
 no better word to express it than perfect. To say 
 that Bell knew her placa is a term much too bald ; she 
 filled it, fulfilled it, /t^/-filled it She was devoted to 
 the fp^mily's interest ; her heart and mind were in hei 
 Work ; she had a clear head, a strcng arm, a blithe 
 happy manner, and an uncommonly large stock of 
 common sense. 
 
 She had a ready '' knack " of dividing the articles 
 under her care, by a sliding scale of her own, so 
 as to put all to the best use: she laid aside some 
 for the dining-room on " company " d»y§, and even at 
 a sudden caU she was seldom found unprepared ; some 
 
BELVS SLIDING SCALE. 
 
 33 
 
 for the parlour, to suit old and young (for there was no 
 formal nursery in the manse, — Bell's room, "off" the 
 kitchen, was best entitled to the name, although com- 
 peting claims might have been put forward by the 
 kitchen itself, the parlour, and even the study) ; some 
 for the kitchen, but tJuit had not a high place in her 
 scale; a good deal for the poor, — plain, handy, and 
 given in good time and with discernment. Of one 
 thing she was very careful, and that was, that if any 
 fcod seemed likely to spoil, it was given away before it 
 went wrong ; if any clothing, it was given clean, and 
 although often well patched, it was fit for immediate 
 use. There was a corner in the kitchen pantry with a 
 stock of comforts, and even luxuries, for cases of sick- 
 ness, old age, or special need. The dumb animals 
 were studied with thoughtful care, and they repaid it 
 well. Everything that could be used was used regu- 
 larly and methodically. 
 
 Bell's dress varied with her work. In the morning 
 she "sorted" the live stock, clad in what an artist 
 would have called a grotesque or picturesque cos- 
 tume, according to the season. In winter her upper 
 garment yas an old overcoat of Mr. Barrie's — a 
 "Spencer;" in summer it was a loose-fitting jacket of 
 striped cotton, lilac and ^/hite; hev linsey-woolsey 
 petticoat was of the right length for such work, and 
 
BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 all were shaken or brushed or beaten daily. She put 
 on her cotton " morning wrapper", of blue with small 
 white spots, just before she " set " the breakfast, and 
 got " redd up " for the day in time to serve up the 
 dinner. While she had her set times for her regular 
 work, and "turned her hand" smartly to anything 
 more pressing, she observed no " Factory Act " restric- 
 tions as to her hours of labour. Very early in the 
 morning the clank of Bell's " pattens " ^ was heard as 
 she attended to her home farm, and till far on in the 
 evening she was working away anxiously and cheer- 
 fully. Her rest was a change of work on week-days. 
 On the Sabbath afternoon she took what seemed likest 
 a rest, viz. a walk round the whole premises, leisurely, 
 observant, inquisitive, noticing everything, and mentally 
 noting a good deal for next week's attention ; varied 
 
 * Patters were a primitive form of what are now known as overshoes, 
 although "undershoe" defines the patten more correctly. The upper 
 part was made of wood, like the frame of an ice-skate, but broader, — 
 not unlike the frame of an oval horse-brusli ; and it was put on by 
 pushing the foot firmly into overstraps made of leather or "girth 
 cloth," in the same way as a horse-brush is fixed on a groom's hand. 
 The under part was an oval-shaped ring of thin iron, measuring about 
 six inches long, four inches broad, and one inch deep. There being no 
 fastening at the back, the heel of the wearer's shoe made a " slip- 
 shod " noise on the wooden sole, which, added to the clanking of the 
 iron soles, especially on any pavement or causeway, produced a double- 
 beat ** clatterin' clatter. " To the inexperienced they were as difficult to 
 walk with as skates are ; they kept the foot about two inches from the 
 ground, and were taken off before entering the house by merely withdraw- 
 ing the foot. Thsy not only kept the feet dry, but a " clean hoose." 
 
 r 
 
She put 
 ^ith small 
 kfast, and 
 '■e up the 
 Jr regular 
 anything 
 ** restric- 
 Y in the 
 heard as 
 n in the 
 i cheer- 
 ek-days. 
 d likest 
 Jisurely, 
 lentally 
 varied 
 
 vershoes, 
 he upper 
 loader, — 
 it on by 
 "girth 
 I's hand, 
 ig about 
 jeing no 
 I "slip. 
 ? of the 
 double- 
 Qeolt to 
 *om the 
 ;hdraw« 
 )ose." 
 
 ^^£ BOSy BEE. 
 
 by an occasional " sau^ii^i^"^^"^^^ 
 
 neighbours for purposes of . ^'^''' °' '^^ 
 
 -sight, or exchange ""'^^^^' ^^^P^-n, 
 
 Her respect for Mr. and Mrs T^«. • 
 ^W -re the handsomest c!l ^1"" ^^^^^"'^^•• 
 • n^any parishes niiahfc h T ^' P""^^' ««^ 
 
 -ore comely gent f L " "' ^'^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ - 
 
 possible, better than they ^re bonn^" '> "V ''^' "" 
 
 ^-- told Bell, as she i Id ; '"' "'^^ ''^^• 
 . ^^ n^ore Wely, BeH^' i;!.!^^^^ 
 
 -rk,mem,Ilikeit;iea„,ab.idle"\ f^'^ 
 -monstrances were firmer on extr^ 1 ' 
 
 ^ "heavy washing" but BpII' "'' '"'^ «« 
 
 -thing, naethin;;t ' and L"'^^ ""' " '^ ^- 
 ^- cirying the cfaes rCr TI:T ' ^^"' '^^ 
 -J^en her answer was ^^ T ^""^ '''''^^^'' 
 
 ^-ion past and by w Jt T '^' ^" ''^ ^- 
 
 ciean hoose -^'deed I '''' ' "^^'^ '^^"^^ ^ ^^^s^, 
 
 -uch clea^V everv 7"^' "'"^^'" ^^^ *^ ^ ^- 
 bad like before you";^:^ 
 
 I may be dwelling too long on Bell and > . 
 ^^ unlikely that she may become ?' T " "'' '' 
 «toiy, or rather the central fi "' '' ^^ 
 
 "bits" are grouped. Z^ ^T^r""' ^''''' '""^ 
 
 I- 
 
 1 1 
 
 i 
 
 f Jl 
 
96 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 t 
 
 good servant, or that she did more than he/ bare duty; 
 she oftener felt she had not done as well as she wished. 
 She was far too sensible and busy a woman to think 
 much about herself ; and should she read this, she would 
 be the first to say " she wished she had done better, — 
 he hasna tell'd my lau'ts." Worthy, kindly, honest Bell! 
 Mrs. Barrie's housekeeping was the admiration, to 
 many it was the miracle, of the parish and district 
 SL^ was a good manager, and with such a helpmate as 
 Bell, she made her income do wonders. To the poor, 
 the manse was always open for judicious help; the 
 hospitality of the dining-room and parlour was sub- 
 stantial and becoming. This was all the more astonish- 
 ing from the fact that Mrs. Barrie was "such a 
 delightful creature," " such a charming person," " quite 
 a lady," *' a model minister's wife," " so accom- 
 plished," " so amiable," " so frank," " so nice," " so 
 attractive" (these are actual epithets used by her 
 friends), that the number of visitors, many of whom 
 were easily persuaded to become guests, was larger 
 than was desirable, and the consequent calls on the 
 larder and pantry were heavy. Indeed, this was a 
 subject of frequent remark among those who enjoyed 
 the hospitality of the manse, all wondering how efce/r she 
 could manage, and many "beseeching" Mrs. Barrie not 
 to trouble herself about thtm, as they only wished « 
 
 p^« 
 
" GIVEN TO HOSPITALITY,** 
 
 ^ 
 
 (< 
 
 larger 
 
 the 
 
 ras a 
 
 Ijoyed 
 
 she 
 
 |e not 
 
 led « 
 
 qaiet chat, although the length of many of their visits 
 made them more like visitations ; Mrs. A. and Mrs. B. 
 suggesting that Mrs. C. and Mrs. D. might be more 
 considerate, whilst Mrs. C. and Mrs. D. were surprised 
 at the audacious manner in which Mrs. A. and Mrs. B. 
 thrust themselves on Mr. and Mrs. Barrie. It was really 
 difficult to withstand the attractions of the manse, and 
 Mr. and Mrs. Barrie, more particularly Mrs Barrie, 
 was made a social martyr because she was so good, and 
 kind, and true. 
 
 It never occurred to Mrs. Barrie that her good 
 nature and good housekeeping were inconsiderately 
 drawn upon by many who should have known better. 
 She liked to see, and to contribute to, the enjoyment 
 of others, prefeiTed being active to being passive in 
 this matter^ and was " given to hospitality " from the 
 genuine sweetness of her nature ; and while the sigh 
 of weariness often escaped her lips at the close of some 
 of the nice " sociables," which had been prolonged so as 
 to interfere with domestic and other duties, she never 
 murmured ; although she and Bell had often to encroach 
 on the hours of rest or sleep in order to keep everything 
 forward, and as they would like it. 
 
 Mr. Barrie'a broad loth was invariably fi^esh-look- 
 ing, and his linen faultless. Mrs. Barrie was at all 
 times becomingly dressed, and in the afternoons quite 
 
 m 
 
 *#" 
 
28 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 " the lady, aye sae genty." Tbo boys and girls were 
 comfortably and neatly clad every day, specially so on 
 Sabbath days, and theirs was a happy home. 
 
 Before I began to describe the inmates of the 
 manse, I mentioned that Mrs. Barrie said, on leaving 
 the parlour, she was going to see if the " bairns were 
 happit." She seldom spoke Scotch, but when she did, 
 it was with quaint emphasis and special sweetness. 
 There was no real need for Mrs. Barrie having any 
 anxiety on this subject of "happing," as Bell was 
 always on the alert ; but Mrs. Banie's motherly heart 
 could not rest until she had seen, and kissed in their 
 beds, her "wee croodlin' doos." She went first to 
 Bee Bell about the supper; then to Bell's room, where 
 Mary and Flora were fast asleep ; then to her own 
 room, where Lewis was sleeping soundly, but James 
 wide awake, scheming in his little head whether he 
 could not make a pair of skates, and wishing that Bell 
 would come up, as her " pattens " seemed the likeliest 
 raw material to make them of, and he had seen an old 
 pair in the byre. Mrs. Barrie heard his story, and said 
 they would never do ; but that Mr. Martin was in the 
 parlour, and she would ask him the price of a pair, if 
 he would sleep like a good boy; and kissing both, 
 and " tucking " them in, she returned to the parlour. 
 
 During her absence, Mr. Barrie spoka to me in 
 
 y^^ 
 
BE ''JUDEECIOUS.'^ 
 
 99 
 
 quite a fatherly way. He knew that I had a good 
 business and fair prospects, but that, since my father's 
 death, I had bought a small property called Knowe 
 Park adjoining the village, and that tliis had absorbed 
 my available means to such an extent as to render it 
 a little difficult for me to carry on business comfort- 
 ably to the extent that my father had done. After 
 stating that he thought I was taking a wise step in 
 getting married, he said he found it generally the case, 
 although it sounded like a contradiction, that a married 
 house was more cheaply and much better kept than a 
 bachelor's ; and that he was in the custom of drawing 
 the attention of folks who were about to get married to 
 the subject of Life Assurance, or, if working men, to 
 Benefit Socieoies, and to the necessity of economy and 
 prudence in money matters. " But," added he, " you 
 know these things better than I do, and I know you 
 will act judeeciously," with a considerable emphasis on 
 the ee. And as he referred to the various relationships 
 of social life, he closed each section (for his advices 
 unconsciously ran into " heads and particulars," like 
 his sermons), with, in short, "Be judeecious;" and so 
 clearly did he illustrate the inseparable connection 
 between wisdom and success or happiness in every- 
 thing he spoke of, that his advice seemed then, and 
 seems yet, summed up in, ** Be judeecious." He will 
 
 
 't 
 is i 
 
30 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 excuse me for telling here, that in the parish he was 
 not unfrequently spoken of as " Judeecious ;" and after 
 the lapse of fully forty years, he is still occasionally 
 styled, "Worthy old Judeecious," by some elderly 
 warm friends, when recalling the sunny memories of 
 former days, although in general conversation he is 
 now spoken of as Dr. Barrie. 
 
 He related with considerable glee a saying of an 
 old minister, who, in speaking of money matters, used 
 to maintain that there were only three ways in which 
 a minister could make money — patrimony, matrimony, 
 or parsimon,/ He also told the story, which is long 
 ago threadbare, of the old merchant, who, when asked 
 why his son had not done so well in business as 
 he had, replied, " That's easily explained : we old 
 folks began with a little house and a plain table, with 
 porridge and a herring, and got up to tea and a 
 'chuckle* (cjii^lien); but the young folks began with a 
 braw house, and tea and chuckles and silks, and never 
 buckled up their sksves to work." When Mrs. Barrie 
 joined us, supper was already on the table. After 
 glancing into the cradle, to see if all was right with 
 " Gordie," or Gk>rdon Lennox, as his full name was, 
 she said, " Come away, gentlemen," and seating herself 
 at the head of the table, did the honours in a graceful 
 and homely wagr. 
 
** BAIRNS WILL BE BAIRNS: 
 
 31 
 
 
 Bell had brought in the little black kettle, and it 
 kept singing by the fireside. When the simple meal 
 was over, Mr. Barrie and I made a "tumbler" of 
 toddy each, a rare thing for him, but he said it was 
 ** New Year time," and an " occasion ;" and my health 
 was drunk, and that of Agnes, in which Mrs. Barrie 
 joined, a very rare thing for her ; and Mr. Barrie had 
 just said, " Now, my dear, you must give Mr. Martin 
 the benefit of a little of your experience," when the 
 door-handle was slowly turned, evidently by a less 
 firm hand than Bell's, and a little head and part of a 
 little white nightgown, appeared at the half-opened 
 door, and a voice was heard timidly saying, " Mamma," 
 followed by Bell's voice, which, with a mixture of 
 astonishment and anxiety in its tone, was heard say- 
 ing, "James — here — at this time o' nicht! whatever's 
 the matter wi' ye, laddie ?" All in the room said, 
 "James!" but before Mrs. Barrie had time to apologize, 
 which she was proceeding to do to James for forgetting 
 the skates, although the strict bargain was that she 
 would speak to me if he slept like a good boy, he 
 threw light on the interruption, greatly to Bell's relief, 
 by saying, " Mamma, have you spoken to Mr. Martin 
 about the skates ? " 
 
 James' single sentence told the whole story bettei 
 than any other words could have done it, and 
 
 111 
 
 iU 
 
i 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 I told him to come to see me to - morrow, and 
 I would find him a pair. Mr. Barrie's " Oh, Mr. 
 Martin, you — " and Mrs. Barrie's " My dear boy, 
 you must — " and Bell's " Skates I you'll break your 
 legs, or drown — " were all interrupted, and all three 
 silenced by James's very pronounced " Oh, thank you, 
 Mr. Martin, thank you very much ;" and " Good night, 
 James," had come from all round the suppei table, and 
 Bell had got him in hand to lead him away, and the 
 door was all but closed, when it opened again. There 
 seemed a struggle going on between James and Bell 
 before he reappeared, this time at full length, with his 
 one arm distended towards the lobby, his feet planted 
 and his body inclined forwards, as if in resistance to 
 an outward pull, and his other arm clenching firmly 
 the upper b jad of the dado of the parlour. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Martin, please, sir, when will I come 
 to-morrow ? " said the boy eagerly. 
 
 " Nine o'clock, James," said I, "or any time after that" 
 
 " Oh, thank you, sir," said he ; and looking at Mrs. 
 Bprrie, said, " May I go, mamma ? " 
 
 " We'll see to-morrow," replied Mrs. Barrie ; " do 
 go to bed like a good boy." 
 
 This was too indefinite for James. "But please, 
 mamma, may I go ?" pleaded the boy with difficulty, 
 for Bell was pulling him strongly outwarda. 
 
CAUGHT TR2PPJNC 
 
 tt 
 
 u 
 
 33 
 
 »»' getting Jl; ' " ''" "^«''" -"•- 
 
 door was closed Th» ''"' ^'- "'-d ""e 
 
 -tuaUy feigned a dete^i J/l'rj'';:';'''^ "^ 
 
 -hen Ja„,es said, «0h, don't, Be^ ru h '™'"^' 
 
 "Dd sleep," which he did. '" ' -^^ *>« a good boy. 
 
 James being thus pleasanflv ^• 
 Barrie began her recorf '7 ""^ ^''^'^^ < ^^ 
 - interesting, that befo« IhehT"' "'"' ^^''^ 
 f- forgot n.y«elf as to si < o' r?" '°°^- ^ ^ 
 had been heref" Ur. n„ • ^ ''^'^ ^S^e^ 
 
 -d with a n.err, s!"e ^1 ""''' "^ "* °"-' -d 
 
 - hour . or rather, i ^id " '" ""' "" ^'''' "« ^- 
 y-^"-thenwe„toui?:T'''<"'"--i'h 
 
 "«ef«I hints and eood Z ^^ """^ ^'"^ her 
 
 ^-'dents that had otu JriT'"'"^ '"^^ "^ 
 A " fn- • . her household 
 
 A lor instance." or " T ,. ■ 
 
 '^as followed by an ». °" ""^ °'=««'on," 
 
 '-^er,-or avail ^31:;"-^^'°" '•- 
 -or a breakage.-or an I "' ''' °' '^""^ 
 
 •nan's account -;r 1^.. '""'''"^ '""^^ '^«des- 
 ' ""^'"^^ ">*' -« much needed. 
 
 O 
 
34 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 and apparently beyond her power and purse, yet 
 eventually procured by her ingenuity and patience, 
 — or her little plans to make Mr. Barrie's coat into 
 ,\ suit for James and possibly a vest for Lewie. 
 And as her family increased, her scheming, and 
 shaping, and sewing, and turning of garments to keep 
 them "cosy," were prettily told, and, if I may use 
 such a term, romantic in their very simplicity. I 
 cannot forget the [ ithos with which ^^he told of a 
 serious and alarming illness caught by Mr. Barrie the 
 week after Nellie's death, at a funeral in a distant part 
 of the parish, but doubtless aggravated by the d'3- 
 turbed state of his mind and the disorganized state of 
 his frame. For, good man as he was, and perfectly 
 resigned to God's will, he felt keenly the blank in the 
 home, — for "a little chair was empty there;" and 
 although I could not say he murmured, I know that 
 he greatly missed " the touch of a vanished hand, and 
 the sound of a voice that is still " {Tennyson). 
 
 *' He was very ill," said she ; " alarmingly ill, — so 
 ill that I suggested to Dr. Stevenson, or rather it 
 struck the doctor and myself at the same moment, 
 that it would be desirable to call in an Edinburgh 
 consulting physiciaa I confess that the fee was a 
 serious consideration, as I knew that it would prevent 
 my getting the new wincey dresses for myself and the 
 

 rse, yet 
 patience, 
 3at into 
 Lewie. 
 3g, and 
 to keep 
 lay use 
 Jity. I 
 td of a 
 me the 
 mt part 
 he d*3- 
 Jtate of 
 srfectly 
 in the 
 " and 
 w that 
 d, and 
 
 1, — so 
 her it 
 ►ment, 
 burgh 
 ^as a 
 event 
 d the 
 
 35 
 
 -imred no effort to cast off t1! T '""'• ""' 
 -nt into the case ^inutj 7 ""^' ^""^ 
 
 ''ad treated the c«.« ., "^ '^^'""^ doctor 
 
 done.--tha?M;t::? ^^ '« ^^-"-^^ « have 
 
 »«ofp.3ive'4trnto;r'^":*^^ 
 medical requirements • and tC! . """""* "^ 
 
 -'"-»' W been eons;: d b.ts r" °T ""'''"^'"'• 
 life, rendered the case ' '^ 'V^^''^ «°-l correct 
 
 «i"^-n.eve^.,ntr:d'rr^r""^^- 
 
 "bout n,,self in that matter lat I 7 ""'''"« 
 ^1 1 «aid was. I had a sT ' , I "'" ^^**'' 
 goId,-BelL» *°' ''"'*'• ''^^ 'height in 
 
 "That's beyond doubt" «aid Mr Barr,-<. . 
 simultaneously. Mrs Rar„- ™^ *°*' ' 
 
 --"^:i:ora:i;ro?"~""^-- 
 
 -m^oundings of Mr t '• °""' ''^^ *«' *e 
 
 -ehij^ostiirtZeTrtr^^" 
 
 scrupulous attention to the n,or '''* 
 
 tl." new 3yste„.-that he C'd T^ T^'^ °' 
 carefuUy, Had be in .„ "* *'"««« <"»' 
 
 -.and\.'eljrr^--^^''^'-Steven- 
 
 agam ,f „ece^«ry. I asked his 
 
 II 
 
 \\ 
 
36 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 fee ; he said not to mind at present, and when I 
 pressed him he said he would write me. He was 
 very particular in writing specific directions; and 
 Dr. Stevenson more fully explained these, so that we 
 were able to carry them out to the letter. Three 
 days after his visit the carrier brought a small hamper 
 of medicines and cordials from the professor, with 
 full instructions as to their use, and a letter to 
 myself" — here she sobbed. Tears had frequently 
 trembled in her eyes as she told the story of the ill- 
 ness, but they trickled down as she spoke of the letter. 
 Drying her tears, however, she proceeded : " ^n the 
 letter he expressed his gratitude at having it in his 
 power to minister 'to the necessities of saints,* his 
 delight at having his method of treatment tried so 
 completely, and " — here she halted ; then after a 
 moment's pause said, " Well, I'm quoting, — and with 
 such nursing. He added that as he had promised to 
 refer to the fee, he would say that he would be more 
 than repaid by Mr. Barrie's recovery, as it would 
 fortify him in adopting the treatment ';;enerally, and 
 announcing it to the profession. Mr. Barrie had 
 meantime got ' the turn.* I snatched a few minutes to 
 reply to the professor's letter. It was written with a 
 full heart, but a shaking hand. I fear my letter was 
 but a sorry production; but,'* she said firmly, and 
 
«• THE GOOD SAMARITANS 
 
 37 
 
 with a beaming eye, " the professor's letter is lying 
 in my mother's Bible, beside my marriage lines and 
 little Nellie's hair. It is not exactly as he sent it ; 
 there are not only the crumpled spots where my tears 
 fell, but under his signature I wrote, before putting 
 it amongst my treasures, ' the Good Samaritan.' 
 Mr. Barrie wonders why I did not rather write the 
 * Beloved Physician ; ' that would have done very well, 
 but I like * the Good Samaritan ' better ; and now that 
 I think of it, I will get it out to-morrow, and Mr. 
 Barrie can add * the Beloved Physician * himself." 
 
 She did not tell then, but I heard from the 
 " carrier," that the basket in which the cordials were 
 sent was first well washed and bleached by Bell, then 
 filled with the best her hen-roost, and dairy, and 
 garden could afford, and sent to the physician without 
 any address, — Bell herself having charged the carrier 
 "just to hand it in an* come away, — no' to say where 
 it cam* frae." 
 
 Mrs. Barrie did not confine herself merely to matters 
 of thrift and housekeeping, but dwelt on the higher 
 feelings of our nature, the social sympathies, and the 
 ties and joys of home and kindred. But I could not 
 do justice to the fine taste with which she described 
 or enforced these. 
 
 Mr. Barrie occasionally joined in the conversation ; 
 
 iX 
 
BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 but he was interjectional, and more impressive from 
 his tone, the expression of his countenance, and his 
 slight gestures, than from the words he used. When 
 the soiled dress was spoken of, he said with a smile, 
 " Birniepark," — referring to an awkward servant having 
 spilt a sauceboat full of gravy on Mrs. Barrie's wed- 
 ding dress. When " breakage " was mentioned, he 
 said, " Janet," — recalling an officious, brisk young lady, 
 who, at one of the annual tea meetings of the Sabbath- 
 school teachers in the manse, had seized the trav with 
 great bounce, to hd'p away with the tea-things, and 
 had literally succeeded, as in crossing the lobby she 
 stumbled, and every dish was broken. When the 
 physician's letter was referied to, he merely said, 
 "Ebenezer, — Epaphroditus, — Onesiphorus." 
 
 Mrs. Barrie finished by giving a few simple rules 
 which she had herself tried to carry out: "Never 
 buy anything you do not need; look twice at a 
 cheap bargain ; use the least of everything, lose the 
 least of everything, and make the most of everything ; 
 save all you can, use all you can, and be sure and 
 give all you can. So much for the housekeeping; 
 but be as careful of your heart as of your purse, and 
 be kindly afPectioned one towards another, in honour 
 preferring one another." 
 
 Mr. Barrie summed up with : " In fact, be judeecioua 
 
 
DILEMMAS. 
 
 39 
 
 rules 
 !Tever 
 at a 
 > the 
 ling; 
 
 and 
 )ing ; 
 
 and 
 ^nour 
 
 liouGL 
 
 Practise economy, not parsimony; use the world as 
 not abusing it ; owe no man anything but to love one 
 another, — a debt that can never be fully discharged. 
 Love begets love." 
 
 Glancing at the timepiece, I saw that the hour was 
 rather later than I imagined ; and having risen, I was 
 thanking Mrs. Barrie for her hearty counsel, and had 
 added that I hoped she would call at Greenknowe 
 before the marriage, and be as kind to Agnes as she 
 had been to ma I saw by Mrs. Barrie's eye that she 
 had me again. 
 
 "I suppose," said she with great glee, "you will 
 not wish me to call on you both after you are married i 
 I quite expected you to invite me ; but Agnes will be 
 calling to say good-bye." 
 
 " What ! " said I ; " good-bye ? She's not going 80 
 far away." , 
 
 ** But," said she, « she will make a P.P.C. call" 
 
 « A what ? " said I ; for I did not know what P.P.O. 
 meant 
 
 " Ask her," replied she ; ** I dare not trust myself to 
 quote French in full now." 
 
 I had begun to thank Mr. Barrie, when he said 
 gravely, '*' Mr. Martin, I greatly desire that there shall 
 be family worship in every house in the parish, and 
 I impress this on all intending young housekeepers; 
 
46 
 
 .^ITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 80 you will kindly take the service for me to-night 
 And without waiting for a reply, he moved towards 
 the handle of the bell, and was pulling it (it was a 
 little bone barrel at the end of a bit of green cord), 
 saying, "We'll call Bell in," when I put my hand 
 on his, and said excitedly, " Mr. Barrie ! please, Mr. 
 Barrie, do excuse me, — pray, don't ask me to-night, 
 please don't I " for the sudden call and circumstances 
 made me quite nervous. 
 
 Mrs. Barrie kindly came to my relief by wishing 
 me a hearty good-night, and saying, " Mr. Martin may 
 have another call to make to-night, my dear." 
 
 Mr. Banie followed me to the lobby, and said he 
 hoped I would excuse his rather hasty invitation to 
 conduct family worship ; he had forgotten the apos- 
 tolic injunction, " Lay hands suddenly on no man." 
 Then, taking me warmly by the hand, he said, " I 
 rejoice with you to-night at the step you are taking; it 
 is not only judeecious, but promises to be a very happy 
 one for yourselves and your circle. But pray remem- 
 ber the * Nisi Domiriu ^r-'stra * of your college days, — 
 * Except the Lord do build the house, they labour in 
 vain that build it.' " There was another firm shake 
 of the hand as we parted, and I heard his voice saying 
 something about taking care of the slippery roads, as I 
 was " some other body's property now." 
 
*t 
 
 CHAPTEK in 
 
 Xi« MABHUGB AW, THE HOME-COMI»a 
 
 "We'rea'noddiV, 
 ^id, Hid, noddin', 
 We're a' noddin' 
 At our house at hame." 
 
 Jf ^ «% at the .anse W been longer than 
 J expected. Whpn t i^ ^ *° 
 
 by the proposal to conduc T J "^ ' ^ «»' 
 ■«««>««t of the visit n ^ ""'^'^P' '^^ ^y 
 
 •^ J«-ble about bIILT"' '"'"^'^ ^'°^' *- 
 
 --ioo.dat.e'aTorc-^rr"'-^ 
 
 «»°«gh? You look excited" J -A ''°"^*" 
 excited me, at which ... «' ^*' "^at had 
 
 'Whtful/then .5:':^,^ ^' ^""^"^^^ 'ben looked 
 
 -<^^'i3iate;e'r r'rir-"^-'-"-^. 
 
 «*»J" and after a pansel . "'«''*' '^ y"" 
 
 of^n wished n.e to^o . ' "''^ ""'^^ ^aa 
 b-. and ,o„ wiU •„: J: :r '^•' '-^y -'^P 
 
 >• 
 
BITS FROM BUNK-BONNY. 
 
 This was adding fuel to flame; so, observing my 
 restlessness, she said, " Oh, Robert, forgive me for 
 adding to your excitement" (that was easily done, — the 
 forgiveness, I mean) ; " you need a good night's rest.** 
 I did very much, but I did not get it. 
 
 I went to bed immediately on going home, tossed 
 and tumbled about, angry at myself for being so un- 
 willing to undertake a duty which, as at one time an 
 aspirant to the ministry, should not have unhinged 
 me. Then my conscience smote me for being undecided 
 in religious matters; then I resolved to be more 
 decided, and began to compose my first social prayer. 
 As I tried this, I found one bit forgotten as another 
 was being thought over. I was about to rise and 
 write a prayer, but checked myself, and resolved to be 
 a man (when a man does this, he is more likely to 
 prove himself a child), and to look for help when it . 
 was needed where it was to be found. 
 
 Kext night found me at Greenknowe, quietly 
 retailing Mr. and Mrs. Barries sayings ; and the 
 ** books " were brought in before supper, and I at least 
 got through. Agnes said she was much obliged to 
 me. Mrs. Stewart said little more than '' Thank you ;** 
 but after tb' ^Id lady had retired, Agnes told me, in 
 an indirect, quiet way, that Mr. M'Nab never referred 
 to her mother as ** His aged servant," which I had 
 
P.P.C. 
 
 unwisely done, but as " tha u ^ 7" — " 
 
 Mistake iu the e,« . ^^"^ ^^ « •«'''"«»' 
 
 -i" excuse ll Z f "• """'" '''""• ^^ --^- 
 
 selves I ^ ^ '*'"8« « we age ouiu 
 
 I carried quite a bundle of Wr^r. * ... 
 '"at nigh, ra^ny of the. inviutn, t> t' '"'' """ 
 others P.P.Cs., which I .ot eJr A °""'''^'' 
 
 auiclc Sideward r.o..^^ f^":' ''^"^'^-' ^^^ « 
 
 V a slow n.ove.e„t of i up td ^ - '"""*' 
 « much as to sav I)„ ""''"""8 '^'^' 
 
 •• OV said I^L^": '""•'" ^"^ ^'-'-^y-" 
 ''"enIa3ked;he:a^7,;f^-^-Y-0.;^ 
 
 -/om the ladie' Z th ''"•" ^"^ '''^-'' «> - *" 
 
 trying ordeal of beiu. l! . " *° "'"'^'So the 
 
 oraamental. Many of th. "'"^"^ *''«» 
 
 "ionor-s sake .the'r L'Z T "'^^"^^ ^"' ''' 
 
 "- -re so than a Z^\Z oT''" ^^"^'- 
 
 ' called Oottasfe Com/orts, 
 
44 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 from Mrs. Barrie, which proved very useful to us, and 
 became* Agnes's present to young housekeepers she was 
 interested in, many of w'iom in after life thanked her 
 for the good hints and help it gave them. Mr. Barrie 
 gave me a copy of the Confession of Faith, and asked 
 me to read it carefully. Although it was the standard 
 of the Church to which I belonged, and I had declared 
 my adherence to it, I had till then hardly opened it. 
 When I did look into it, many of its statements 
 seemed harsh, and stated so baldly in logical order and 
 theological language, that they seemed to me very 
 different from the teachings of the Bible, interwoven 
 and relieved as these are by illustration, narrative, and 
 incident ; and I still think, because it wants the charm 
 of the associations with which the doctrines are joined 
 in the Scriptures, that it is apt to bewilder, if not to 
 prejudice unfavourably, the ordinary reader; but the 
 more I examine it, and compare the parallel passages 
 (t.«. references to texts confirming the doctrines), I see 
 it deserves the name Mr. Barrie gives it in its relation 
 to the Bible, — " an excellent summary of which is to 
 be found in the Westminster Confession of Faith." 
 Although the excellence is more marked than the 
 summariness; it is a pretty long summary. The 
 " Apostles* Creed " comes nearer that 
 
 Dinner followed almost immediately after the mar- 
 
PLAIN SPEAKING, 
 
 45 
 
 see 
 
 bion 
 
 to 
 
 Ith." 
 
 Ithe 
 
 The 
 
 lar- 
 
 riage. There was a little speechmaking after dinner, 
 or " the collation," as Mrs. M'Nab called it. Mr. Barrie, 
 in proposing our health, was neat and hearty. He had 
 a hit at me "once thinking of getting married;" — told 
 a story of a lad who, when going to seek a wife, looked 
 so unhappy that his mother said to him, " Keep up 
 yer heart, Johnnie, ma man ; faint heart never won 
 fair lady;" "Eh, mother," said Johnnie, " I've mair need 
 to keep it down, for it^s amaist in my mou' a'ready ; " 
 — wished us many happy days, and hoped our married 
 life would be happier than his had been. It took 
 some of us a few seconds to see that this was a very, 
 very good wish. 
 
 My uncle proposed Mrs. Stewart's health. He was 
 a plain, blunt man, and spoke of her as his " auld 
 friend." Mrs. Stewart was in grand spirits, and said, 
 ** Auld, Mr. Martin ! auld \ I'm no' sae auld as you." 
 " Weel, ye're as auld-like, ony way," said the honest 
 man; and Mrs. Stewart and he joined as heartily in 
 the laugh that followed as any of us, and it was so long 
 that he ended his speech by a nod to Mrs. Stewart, 
 and " Here's t'ye, mem ; your very good health." 
 
 A confirmed bachelor proposed the bridesmaids. 
 He was, of course, unable to do justice to the toast, 
 with " ffiicK " bridesmaids, etc. 
 
 Mr. M'Nab gave the health of Mr. Barrie. He 
 
46 
 
 BITS FROM DLINKBONNY, 
 
 spoke well ; my uncle said he had " a grand stock o* 
 dictionar' and college-bred words." 
 
 Some songs were sung. The bachelor friend had a 
 fine voice, and had cultivated it carefully. Few could 
 equal him at " Gae fetch to me a pint o* wine ;" and 
 when pressed to sing it, he bantered about having lost 
 his best song, " O Nanny, wilt thou gang wi' me ? " 
 he had not even got round sufficiently to try " My 
 Nannie's awa*," but he hoped he would regain his 
 spirits ; he would try " When our king comes o'er the 
 water," and gave it in fine style. A cousin of Agnes's, 
 her senior by a very few years, sang " .t' 'body's like 
 to get married but me," with sweetness and humour, 
 the last three verses so 'ery well as to put our 
 bachelor friend in great spirits. When she finished 
 the following verse, the last one — 
 
 *' It*8 hard to tak' shelter behint a laigh dyke, 
 It's hard to gang wi' ane ye dinna weel like. 
 It's hard to forsake ane ye fain wad gang wi*, 
 But if 8 harder that a'body's married but me,"— 
 
 my uncle said, '' Ye maun be ill to please ; it canna 
 hae been for want o' ofiTers." He was then pressed to 
 sing, and did his best ; the words were new to all of 
 us, but the tune, " Johnnie Cope," was familiar. He 
 said it was written by a friend of his, a farmer 
 beside hint We suspected that the author waa 
 
•* THE FROSTIT CORN." 
 
 47 
 
 ma 
 to 
 of 
 
 [e 
 ler 
 raa 
 
 always veiy near him. He had sung it at the rent 
 dinner in his laird's house, and the laird was delighted 
 with it, although it " wasna jist exactly what he wad 
 like to happen to himsel' :" 
 
 THE FROSTIT CORN. 
 
 TwM — " Johnnie Cope." 
 
 " Oh, I'm a young fanner hard set by the frost, 
 Hy gude expectations hae sairly been cross't, 
 Hy craps that look't weel, they are noo nearly lost, 
 By thir calamitous momin's. 
 
 ** In the midst o* last simmer it was iindeTstL.de 
 That we wad a' haen plenty o' gude halesome fade, 
 For man an' for beast ; an' we ettled to dae gude, 
 But the frost it has backit it sairly. 
 
 " An' when that the frost it did gang awa', 
 The rain it came on like to rain ns a' ; 
 It rained that lang, that it shortened the straw. 
 An' added aye the mair till our momin'. 
 
 " Bat yet for a' that we maonna compleen, 
 It was sae ordered, or it ne'er wad ha' been ; 
 It was maybe for our gude, tho' thaX hasna yet be«i seen. 
 For to hnmble oar pride in the momin'. 
 
 " When things lookit weel, a scheme I had laid, 
 I promised to many a bloomin' young maid. 
 To share o* the o'ercome when a'thing was paid. 
 But the frost it has backit it sairly. 
 
 ** But my crap as it is, it is noo in the yaird. 
 An' still for the lassie I hae a regaird ; 
 I think that 111 marry her, an' no pay the laird, ^ 
 Let him ken there was frost in the momin*. 
 
 '* An' if he should break out in ragin' and strife. 
 He may weel tak' the gear, but he'll no tak' my lifo ; 
 If I should hae naething else, I will ay« hae my wife 
 To comfort me in the momin'." 
 
48 
 
 BITS FROM BUNKPONNY. 
 
 Need I say that the applause was loud, and long, and 
 
 Marriage trips, wedding tours, were not so common 
 forty years ago as they are now : we had none. Shortly 
 after my uncle's song was finished, and with the glee 
 it inspired still beaming in their faces, the guests went 
 to our house. We were the last to leave, which we did 
 under a shower of old shoes " for luck." There was the 
 usual gathering of noisy children round the bride's 
 door, waiting for the coppers scattered on such 
 occasions; and as they scrambled for them, we got 
 into the drosky, and were driven home, followed by 
 an increasing number of children cheering in an 
 intermittent way, all anxious to be in time for the 
 " scatteri:>* o' the ha'pennies," which had to be re- 
 peated at the bridegroom's door. There was an outer 
 circle of grown-up people, who showed their goodwill 
 by a welcoming cheer. As Agnes crossed her thresh- 
 old, my oldest sister, who had come to " receive " her, 
 allowed an oat cake to fall on the young wife's head ; 
 and the younger folks scrambled for the bits, as these 
 had some not very clearly defined faculty of foretelling 
 their future luck, especially if confirmed by a dream 
 over the bridescake. Agnes was placed by the matrons 
 present at the head of the supper table, and thereby 
 installed as mistress of the house. After supper 
 
''BLITHE AN" MERRY WERE WE A'."* 
 
 49 
 
 ing 
 
 )n3 
 Iby 
 
 )ei 
 
 there were games, in which the elderly folks joined, 
 the older men with demonstrative glee. The more 
 matronly matrons required a good deal of pressing — 
 their " play days were bye ; " but most of them went 
 through a short game, others kept remonstrating with 
 the old men, especially their own husbands, who were 
 oftener up, and who even when looking on capered and 
 "hooched" (?'.e shouted merrily): — " Tammas, Tarn mas ! 
 yeVe forgettin' yersel';" — "Stop that auld man o* 
 mine; he'll hurt himsel';" — "Oh man, James, ye're 
 ower auld for sic nonsense. Let the young folks carry 
 on the games noo." 
 
 After the first round of games, in which all the 
 guests — old and young — took part, and the seniors had 
 shown their %kill, these mostly settled to be specta- 
 tors, all the while enjoying the frolics of the young 
 folk as much as their own canty cracks, whilst the 
 younger portion had the carrying on of the fun, which 
 they did right merrily. Old Scotch songs were sung, 
 and kindly sentiments uttered, as those will readily 
 believe whose memory can recall the homely con- 
 vivialities of forty or fifty years ago. My uncle was 
 pressed by old and young to sing another song like 
 " The Frostit Corn," — "one we did not hear every day," 
 — "a real country-fireside song." He said he "would 
 gie ane ; it was no' as gude as ' The Frostit Corn.' It 
 
50 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 was ca'd ' The Country Rockin'.' But maist o* yell no* 
 ken what a rockin' is. It's a gatherin' o' neebors for a 
 night's diversion. The women braug their * rocks ' — 
 things for spinning woo' or lint wi', an* birled an' 
 span an' crackit awa'. I've seen them hunders o' 
 times in my young days, but there's no sic a thing noo 
 as 'the rock and the wee pickle tow.' Mind it's 
 hamespun an* countrified." Then he began : — 
 
 THE COUNTRY ROCKIN*. 
 
 " It has often been alloo'd that the best o' human life 
 Is the hours o* social harmony when free from party strife. 
 When freendship smiles and love beguiles 'mang lads an' lasset 
 
 kindly jokin' ; 
 TheuM joys we only find when assembled at a country rockin'. 
 
 i 
 
 " When the gudeman frae the fire bids ns frankly venture ben, 
 In hamely sangs and social joys a nicht wi' him to spen', 
 The welcome kind attracts each mind, we needna Ither friendly 
 
 token. 
 When we join the honest social core assembled at a country 
 
 rockin*. 
 
 " Noo, since we're cheerie met for a nicht o' social joy, 
 Let every care be banished far that wad our peace destroy ; 
 When friendship smiles and love beguiles, at sangs we'll hae a 
 
 hearty yokin*. 
 An' we'll chant the lays o* Robbie Burns, wha first described the 
 
 country rockin'. 
 
 " An' when we tak' our hameward road, it's no taen sair amiss, 
 Tho' frae some bonny smiliu' face we steal a wee bit kiss. 
 Her heart to move, an' tell our love in vows that never will be 
 
 broken. 
 Till in some biggin' o' our ain we hae a hearty country rockin'." 
 
 In the enthusiastic chorus every voice joined, and 
 
AUNTIE MATTIE ON SONGS, 
 
 SI 
 
 i 
 
 over and over again after the last verse did the chorus 
 ring through the room ; and, " Anither, Mr. Martin, 
 anither like that ! " was rained on the canny man. Dur- 
 ing the pause, Auntie Mattie, a sister of Mrs. Stewart's, 
 said, " Sing the ' Farmer's Ingle,* Mr. Martin, for auld 
 langsyne. I like it better than the ' Eockin'." 
 
 "Sae dae I," said my uncle, "but it's threadbare noo." 
 
 "Threadbare!" said Auntie Mattie; "threadbare, did 
 ye say, Mr. Martin ? A sang that's worth ca'in* a sang ' 
 at a* will never get threadbare, ony mair than the sun 
 11 get auld-fashioned altho* we see't every day o* our 
 lives ; and ye'll surely sing't to obleege me ?" 
 
 Auntie Mattie was a sonsy, kindly, cheery woman — 
 a'body's body ; but she hardly expected that my uncle 
 would bring her in for a song by the paction he made. 
 
 " Mattie," said he, — " oh, I beg yer pardon, I should 
 hae ca'd ye Mrs. Dickson, but ye lookit sae like what 
 ye did langsyne that Mattie cam' oot afore I kent, — I'll 
 sing the * Farmer's Ingle ' if ye'll sing the * Lawland 
 lads think they are fine.* Ye sang't at our waddin*, an* 
 it's ringin' in my heid yet Thae auld sangs are worth 
 a bushel o' the new trash the folk ca' sangs noo-a- 
 days. Come awa', my bonnie leddy, let's hear the 
 * Lawland Lads,* and ye'll hae the ' Farmer's Ingle ' 
 as weel as I can gie*t ; that ye will.'* 
 
 Auntie Mattie said, "Hoots!" and Nonsense!" and 
 
S3 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 that " her voice was clean gane ; " but her siDging of 
 the " Lawland Lads " contradicted all these statements, 
 and was so sweet, and so true, and so natural, as to 
 command strict silence at the second note, which 
 deepened as she proceeded. The verse— • 
 
 ** Few compliments between us pass, 
 I ca' him aye my Hieland laddie, 
 An' he ca's me his Lawland lass, 
 
 An' rows me in his tartan plaidie " — 
 
 as ska su 't, '^as a thing to be remembered. When 
 she had fi* ched *» id the sincere applause was over, 
 which took the shape of little complimentary speeches 
 to her, and expressions of mutual delight to one 
 another, rather than the noisy demonstration which 
 had followed my uncle's songs, my uncle said, " Eh, 
 Mattie — hoots ! excuse me. Eh, Mrs. Dickson, there's 
 no' a fail'd inch o' ye. That sang was like caller 
 air; it was jist grand, splendid a'thegither. It's 
 taen the breath frae me completely. I daurna sing 
 after that." 
 
 " Come away, Mr. Martin," said she ; " a bargain's a 
 bargain. Come away wi' the ' Farmer's Ingle,* " which 
 he did. And I give the song as he sang it, as, although 
 common in country districts in my young days, it is 
 little sung now. The chorus was well known to us 
 all, and we did join in it : — 
 
" THE FARMERS INGLE. 
 
 53 
 
 smg 
 
 m 8 a 
 ^hich 
 
 LOUgh 
 
 it is 
 us 
 
 " Let Torkfl triumph, let tyrants pray. 
 Let poets sing melodioasly, 
 Let Turks triumph and priests live single^ 
 But my delight's at the farmer's ingle. 
 
 QkurvA — For the farmer's ingle is the place 
 Whera freedom shines on ilka face. 
 My wish is while on earth to mingle 
 "Wi* gude honest people at the farmer's ingle. 
 
 ** In winter when the frost an' snaw 
 Drives a' the masons frae the wa', 
 Tour hearts wad warm and yer ears wad tingle 
 To hear the cracks at the farmer's ingle. 
 
 C]k.Qru» — For the farmer's ingle is the place^ eto. 
 
 *' The British ship's the seaman's boas^ 
 Success to tredd's the merchant's to ii^ 
 The miser for his money does pingle, 
 But my delight's in the farmer's ii.jK 
 
 Chortu — For the farmer's ingle is the place, etc. 
 
 *' The sailor boldly ploughs the n 'u, 
 The soldier flies o'er heaps of sla,.a, 
 But my wish on earth's ne'er to live single ; 
 Here's a bumper to the farmer's ingle. 
 
 Chorus — For the farmer's ingle is the place," etc 
 
 The * thinking of going home," which had been hinted 
 at once or twice before, was now general, and the party 
 broke up with good wishes and kind feelings warmly 
 expressed : " We've haen a grand nicht o't ! " — " Lang 
 may ye be spared to ane anither, an' aye be as happy 
 as ye've made your freends the nicht ! " — crowned by 
 * Auld Langsyne," with, as the play-bills have it, " the 
 whole strength of the company." 
 
54 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 '^ 
 
 Our house was above the shop ; separate yillas, now 
 Qo common for tradesmen and shopkeepers, were then 
 only occupied by the gentry. The system of villas 
 in the outskirts has shortened the hours of business, 
 and is healthier, but the above-the-shop houses kept 
 a man, and often, be it said with all honour, his wife, 
 thoroughly at the head of affairs. In many businesses, 
 then as yet, the wives were invaluable. Who cannot 
 recall the active, polite, effective way in which the 
 Mistress " kept the shop " ? and how nice it was to be 
 served by her own self, with her interchange of homely 
 civilities, and the ready knack she had of hitting on 
 what was wanted ! This good custom is happily still 
 not uncommon. Long may it continue ! 
 
 My business did not require Agnes to be in the 
 shop, but in my absence she used to look in to help 
 the lad or lads, and took to it, and the customers took 
 to her. Often, also, when the Assistants were out, she 
 came down to keep me (maybe to keep herself) from 
 wearying ; and she soon made such changes as only an 
 orderly woman can devise ; and from being interested, 
 she easily became acquainted with the details, and 
 made alterations here and reforms there that resulted 
 in our increased prosperity and comfort We went on 
 steadily making things better, soon got to be easier in 
 money matters, then laid past a little, then looked out 
 
PEGGY RITCHIE ON THE KIRKYARD. 
 
 5S 
 
 VSt in 
 out 
 
 for some investment But I am the writer, not the sub- 
 ject, of these " bits," and will spare my readers the dry 
 details of a homely life in a country village. I only 
 add that we had no extra call on our means in the 
 way of having to bring up a family. This was a sore 
 subject many years ago, but it is a mere fact now. 
 
 My wife being anxicus to get everything to her 
 mind about the house, began next morning to clear 
 up, and sent for some folks who were very glad to get 
 some of the substantial remains to eke out their 
 scanty tables. One of these was Peggy Ritchie. She^ 
 had been a servant in my father's house at the time 
 of his death, and my housekeeper for nearly a year 
 thereafter. She had married Gavin Sinclair, a widower 
 with a moderately-sized family. Her father was the 
 sexton and minister's man, but now unfit for work, and 
 Gavin, or Guy as he was commonly called, " officiated " 
 instead of old Adam Ritchie. Peggy said she was 
 ** thankfu* to get onything, forbye being proud to be 
 mindit, for Guy was very slack the noo, there werena 
 near sae mony deaths as ane would expect this cauld 
 weather. It was very unfortunate, it came at an ill 
 time ; if there wasna something doin' in the kirkyard 
 soon, it wad be a bad job. Guy could say, as the 
 beadle o' Borthwick said to the Lord Chief Baron, ' he 
 hadna buried a leevin' craitur for six weeks/ '* 
 
56 
 
 BITS FROM BUNKBONNY. 
 
 " And how's your father, Peggy ? " said my wife. 
 
 " Very middlin*, Mrs. Martin " (Peggy used Mrs. very 
 often and very graciously) ; " but he was sayin' to Guy 
 last nicht, after Mr. Barrie gaed out, — ^he ca'd in to see 
 my faither; he often ca'a I'm aye glad to see him. 
 He kens what puir folk need in cauld weather. Well, 
 as I was sayin', my faither says to Guy, * Be thankfu* 
 ye hae Mr. Barrie to deal wi' ; he's a considerate man 
 an' a gentleman. Ane o' the ministers before him, no* 
 to name onybody,- — it's as weel no' to gie names, — 
 weel, ane o' the ministers in my day,' says my faither, 
 ' was the maist pernickety, impatient, bathersome crai- 
 tuv' ever was seen. If he wanted onything, ye must do't 
 in an instant, or he was fair dancin* wi' passion. It was 
 a thrang time in the kirkyard, a sair winter, and I had 
 some idle men helpin' me. The minister was getting 
 something done to the manse, and aye send-sendin* 
 for me to help, and to come that very moment. I've 
 actually seen me,' says my faither, ' hae to bring men 
 out o' the very grave to serve him.* My faither's sair 
 failed." 
 
 Knowing that Peggy had been my housekeeper, my 
 wife asked if there was anything I was specially fond 
 of, any special dishes, etc. 
 
 Peggy's sense of importance was flattered at being 
 consulted (as she afterwards put it), and she said, 
 
' «• 
 
 AfA T/IIESON'S HE ID. 
 
 57 
 
 vile. 
 rs. very 
 to Guy 
 1 to see 
 se him. 
 Well, 
 lankfu* 
 te man 
 im, no' 
 nes, — 
 faither, 
 e crai- 
 ist do't 
 It was 
 I had 
 etting 
 sndin* 
 I've 
 men 
 sail' 
 
 my 
 fond 
 
 leiug 
 said, 
 
 with a gesture of surprise, " The maister, — Maister 
 Martin, — there was nae man could be easier pleased 
 wi' his meat than him. Gie him a lamb leg an' a 
 berry tart to his denner, an* he was perfectly satisfied." 
 So he may, thouglit my wife. 
 
 " Speakin' about denners," continued Peggy, " Miss 
 Park got a terrible fricht last Saturday nicht. The 
 flesher's laddie was takin* a sheep's heid to the 
 J'iathiesons, but as there was naebody in the house, 
 he raps on Miss Park's door, — she stops next them. 
 Weel, her servant was out, an* she answers the door 
 hersel*. She's an awfu* nervish craitur', so she opens 
 a wee bit o* the door, a' shakin', and disna the laddie 
 shove the sheep's heid bang in ? The door was that 
 little open that the neck rubbit against her hands : and 
 he bawls out, ' Mathieson's heid,' an' let it fa' in the 
 lobby an' awa* in a moment. She was that fear'd that 
 she couldna move, but keepit starin' awa' at oh ugly 
 black head, thinking a' sorts o' things. When her 
 servant cam' in she was fair chitterin' wi' fear. It 
 was real thochtless o' the laddie." 
 
 Blinkbonny had its events and " foys " {i.e. enter- 
 tainments), but nothing of special interest occurred 
 until the Disruption of 1843, of which I will treat in 
 my next chapter. 
 
II 
 
 f >' 
 
 8 
 
 ii 
 
 N 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 TBE TWO SIDES OP THE CHURCH QUESTION. 
 
 '* They lay aside their private cares 
 To mind the Kirk and State affairs ; 
 They'll talk o' patronage and priests 
 Wi' kindling fury in their breasts, 
 Or tell what new taxation 's comiu', 
 And ferlie at the folk in Lon'on." — Butm, 
 
 'TIHE agitation which resulted in the Disruption of 
 -*• 1843, when nearly five hundred ministers left the 
 Established Church of Scotland and formed the " Free 
 Church," extended even to the quiet parish of Blink- 
 bonny, although Mr. Darrie had not taken an active 
 part in the conferences held on the subjects in dispute 
 between the Government and the Non-Intrusionists, as 
 they were sometimes called. He ratlier avoided the 
 subject; but in the presbytery his attitude indicated 
 that his sympathies were with those who ultimately 
 formed the Free Church, — so much so that many of his 
 friends remonstrated with him, urging him to be careful, 
 to consider his family, not to commit himself hastily. 
 The latter advice Mr. Barrie carried out by thanking 
 
 \ 
 
THB SEED POTATOES. 
 
 59 
 
 his advisers very sincerely, assuring them that he would 
 endeavour to act conscientiously and "judeeciously;" 
 and although he did not commit Himself, his answer 
 was made the basis of different conclusions, according 
 as the "conscientiously" or the "judeeciously " was 
 put foremost. 
 
 He more nearly committed himself to Bell than to 
 any other person, and this accidentally. She was the 
 head, the only gardener, and early spring found her 
 deeply absorbed in the arrangement of the season's 
 crops. She had already planted peas and beans, and 
 sundry vegetables ; had carefully cut the seed of the 
 early potatoes, making each potato yield as many bits 
 with eyes or buds as she thought safe ; and had the 
 " dibble " in her hand to form the holes into which to 
 drop the seed, when Mr. Barrie, returning from the 
 village, stopped at the " break " which she was begin- 
 ning to plant. 
 
 He never passed Bell without some kindly word. 
 In the garden it was generally, " Well, Bell, always at 
 it ? " and Bell's " Yes, sir " followed him, for he gene- 
 rally walked on. But on this occasion he stood for 
 a few seconds, long enough for Bell to look at him 
 inquiringly, then to wonder whether to speak or not 
 At length Mr. Barrie said, with something like an 
 introductory sigh: 
 
6o 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 I 
 
 "Well, Bell, planting the early potatoes, I see. 
 How will you look if we have to flit soon and leave 
 the crop to some other body ? ** 
 
 " Flit 1 " said BeU ; " flit ! What d'ye mean, sir ? 
 We'll flit nane ; " and forgetting her usual good 
 manners, she added, " Ye ha vena gotten a call to ony 
 ither kirk that I've heard o', or to ony o* the big town 
 kirks, have ye, sir ? " 
 
 '* No, not exactly that, Bell ; but we may have to 
 leave the manse for all that. But if we have, we will 
 leave the garden in such a state as to be a credit to 
 us." Then collecting himself, and observing her 
 perplexed face, he made a passing remark on the 
 weather, and had moved towards the manse, too con- 
 fused to be able to reply to Bell's practical question, 
 which cut him to the quick, simple as it was, " What 
 for did ye no' speak about that before I cut the 
 pitaties, sir ? " 
 
 The question was not asked in Bell's usual respect- 
 ful tone, and although she saw that Mr. Barrie had 
 got into the houso, she kept looking at the closed 
 door as if it should answer her ; then slowly surveyed 
 the garden, the mould of which had been enriched by 
 her- industry. She rested her eye first on what she had 
 already planted, next on what she intended to plant ; 
 wistfully on the rows that were already above the 
 
COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE. 6i 
 
 ground, and that had an hour before been her pride ; 
 then looked again at the manse door with an expres- 
 sion of bewilderment. She took the hamper which 
 contained the seed - potatoes in the one hand, still 
 holding the dibble in the other, and walked dreamily 
 round the parts of the garden that were planted. The 
 pace was very unlike her everyday one ; it was slow, 
 heavy, interrupted. Every few steps sle looked 
 around her solemnly, until she reached the top of the 
 garden, when, as if some forgotten engagement had 
 flashed across her mind, she walked briskly to the out- 
 house, laid down her perplexing seed-potatoes, locked 
 the door, and tidied herself more quickly and more 
 carelessly than usual. Putting on her shawl and a 
 knitted worsted black cap or " mutch " with a crimson 
 border (for she wore a bonnet only on Sundays), some- 
 thing like a hood (it had a name, which I now forget), 
 she went to Mrs. Barrie to inquire if she needed any- 
 thing from the village, — that being Bell's way of 
 raking whether she could get out for a short time. 
 
 ' Nothing, Bell," said Mrs. Barrie, " nothing at all 
 that I remember of; and I am anxious to have as 
 little as possible in the house at present." 
 
 This added to Bell's confusion and quickened her 
 step. She made straight for the village. I happened 
 to be at the door at the time, nnd, struck with the 
 
 ' i. 
 
BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 smartness with which she was walking I a];>pr6heuded 
 that there might be something wron;^ ',t tl?c rrsanee, 
 and had taken a step or two towards her. \\ !h1« i nt 
 about two yards distant she asked '^uickiy, ** Hoo't 
 the garden doing, Mr. Martin ? " 
 
 " Just middling Bell ; but come round and see it" 
 
 As we went she further asked, ** Have ye gotten 
 your early taties in yet ? '* 
 
 " No," said I ; "my garden is far behind this year. 
 I have been trying to get that house ready for the 
 Whitsunday term. Ye'll see that we're putting a 
 better house on the Knowe Park ? It's a nice stance. 
 The old cottage was done, so we're putting up a good 
 plain house; but the plasterers have dilly-d.Olied; 
 they're a provoking set" 
 
 We were now in the garden. Bell's tiir%t reiiiark 
 was, " This is no* like you, Mr. Martin ; but-, however, 
 I want to ask ye a secret" (so Bell put it). *^Cari 
 you tell me if Mr. Barrie's gotten a call or if he's 
 likely to get a call, to ony * :^r kirk ? " 
 
 " Not that I know or ha ^ . lieard of." 
 
 Then she told me very circumatantially what Mr. 
 Barrie had said, and what Mrs. Barrie had said, and 
 ended by asking, " What can ycm mak' o' what he said 
 about the taties ? " 
 
 I tried to explain that it was possible that many 
 
 
 I 
 
BELVS VIEW OP THE CASE. 
 
 63 
 
 * 
 
 miiiistera would leave the Church of Scotland on 
 account of something the Gnverimfnt had dc lic. 
 
 " What .' " srid Bell lirnily ; " that cannot be— that's 
 no' possible. The ^ jvernment wadna daur to meddl<> 
 wi' Mr. Barrie. There may be iS gude ministers, bifc 
 there's nane better. Let them try to put out Mr. 
 Barrie, and they would see a bonnie stramash, — that 
 they would. Leave the manse I Na ; thae covenan- 
 tin* times are a' past. Just let Government try't" 
 
 I said that it was not at all likely that force would 
 be required, as I believed that if the Government 
 persisted in doing what the mmisters thought wr-.ig, 
 the ministers would leave the Church quietly rather 
 than submit to have their rights and those of the 
 Christian Church interfered with. 
 
 "There's nae Government will ever gang against 
 gude ministers, at ony rate against Mr. Barrie ; they're 
 the best friends the Government has," said Bell 
 Then looking at it in her particular light, sh.o a' iod. 
 "Will ony ither body, Government or no v >vern- 
 ment, get the peas and cabbage and taties out d m* r 
 garden?" for Bell was an active p rt'ier. 
 
 " I hope not," said I, " but it's not mry unlikely." 
 
 ** If I tliocht that, 1 would neither plant nor sow 
 anither dreei — that I would not ; and if you'll takf» the 
 early taties I've cut, I'll »dl ye them. They're a grand 
 
BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 kind, the auld early Dons, — grand growers, lots at 
 every shaw, and gude eaters, — nothing to beat them 
 for size and quality." 
 
 I agreed to take Bell's s^cd-potatoes, which partly 
 pacified her ; but she came back on, " It's no' possible ! 
 Leave the manse — na!" until I said that the Knowe 
 Park garden would need to be put right at once, that 
 it was very good soil, that I would be happy to buy all 
 her spare plants and seeds, and that she should still 
 keep the manse garden right, as there was no saying 
 what might happen. 
 
 Bell gave a qualified assent to this proposal : " She 
 would see ; but she maun awa' hame. She would 
 need to take something up with her ; " the something 
 was a bunch of spunks (bits of thin split wood, very 
 dry, about six inches long, tipped with sulphur, 
 used for lighting candles f^nd lamps, unknown now 
 that luc fer matches are sc common) and a few pounds 
 of salt. 
 
 Mr. Barrie looked in on me shortly after Bell had 
 left, and af ^^^r a little general talk he quietly remarked 
 that the house — villa, he termed it — was getting on, 
 and that it looked a nice place. " Was I going to 
 build on the east side of the Knowe Park ? Had I 
 any t*»na.»ji^ in view ? What would be the rent % 
 Would it \ . It idy by Whitsunday — and dry ? ** 
 
,i 
 
 THE SHADOWS DEEPEN. 
 
 65 
 
 had 
 
 rked 
 
 on, 
 
 to 
 
 id I 
 
 |# 
 
 4 
 
 His manner and precision evinced something more 
 than mere friendly interest, and following as they did 
 so much in the train of Bell's visit, I concluded that he 
 would "come out" if the Government did not yield. 
 It had been evident for some time that his sympathies 
 were with what was then called the " Evangelical " 
 party, although that name was by him considered 
 unfair to the other side, and he preferred calling it the 
 protesting party ; but he had taken no prominent part 
 in tlie public discussions, and was scrupulously careful 
 about introducing ecclesiastical politics into his pulpit 
 ministrations. " The good seed is the Word of God," 
 he would often say ; " and as ordained to minister 
 to the souls of my parishioners, I try to preach it 
 faithfully, fuily, and practically, avoiding controversy 
 of all kinds, political, ecclesiastical, theological, or 
 dogmatic. The only way to do rear good, even in 
 opposing error or bigotry, is to preach the truth ia 
 love." 
 
 April had passed ; May had covered the earth with 
 beauty, and blossom, and promise. Never did the 
 manse look so well, or its surrounding's more doli;ihtful, 
 than on the evening before Mr. Barrie left for the 
 General Assembly in Edinburgh. I made an errand 
 to the manse, ostensibly to ask him to procure a 
 certain book for me when in town, but really to see 
 
 p 
 
66 
 
 £/?^S FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 I 
 
 if I could pick up an inkling of his mind on the 
 Church controversy, and to offer to be of any service 
 in my power. 
 
 Mrs. Barrie and he were sauntering in the garden. 
 He was grave, and as they stopped opposite some 
 familiar flower, both seemed sad. Bell (a most 
 unusual thing for her) was stealthily eyeing them from 
 the kitchen window, having turned up the corner of 
 the little green-striped dimity under-screen. When 
 she saw me, she signalled me to meet her at the back 
 of the manse by jerking her thumb in that direction, 
 and added a slight trembling motion of her clenched 
 hand, to express further that she wanted me to do so 
 without Mr, and Mrs. Barrie's knowing it. When I 
 reached the back court, there she was, and she at once 
 took speech in hand. 
 
 " Whatever's gaun to happen, Mr. Martin ? The 
 minister has been bundle-bundlin' in the study for twa 
 or three days. Mrs. Barrie has been clearin* oot auld 
 corners, or rather searchin* into them, for there's no' 
 much to clear out that's either useless or lumbery. 
 Is't possible we maun leave ? It's no' possible. I've 
 a gude mind to speak to Mr. Bariie mysel'. Sir John 
 was here last night, and I heard him say as he gaed 
 through the lobby, ' For all our sakes, for your own 
 flake, for your family's sake, for the sake of the Church 
 
THE TOWN CLERK OF EPHESUS. 
 
 •7 
 
 of our fathers, for His sake who wishes all His people 
 to be one, think over the matter again before you 
 make a schism in His body. Carry out the good 
 doctrine you preached the other day when lecturing 
 on the town clerk of Ephesus, that wc "ought to be 
 quiet, and do nothing rashly." * Mr. Barrie only said, 
 ' Thank you, Sir John ;* but as he was coming * ben' 
 the lobby from seeing Sir John away, I took the 
 liberty o' saying, ' Sir John's a clever man, a sensible 
 man, and he's aye been our friend. So, sir, excuse me 
 for saying that I hope you will' — but I got no further; 
 I saw the tear was in Mr. Ikrrie's e'e, and that fairly 
 upset me." Then she added, " Will ye no' speak till 
 him, Mr. Martin, seriously and firmly ? Leave the 
 manse, and the kirk, and the garden ! — I wadna 
 leave them if I was him, unless they sent a regiment 
 of dragoons." ► 
 
 I said I would try. • Na," said she, " ya maun 
 baith try't and do't too. He's gaun to Edinburgh tlie 
 morn to the Assembly, and they say he'll settle whether 
 to leave the I^rk or bide in't before he comes back 
 here again." 
 
 Leaving Bell, I came to the front of the manse, and 
 stood for a little admiring the scene. The eveninfr 
 sun was about to set behind the western hills. Nature 
 was in her summer mantle of beauty and verduie, 
 
]! 
 
 t«» 
 
 68 
 
 B/TS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 
 the garden smiling at my feet ; the? fields beyond, 
 green, loamy, and rich ; the stream glistering and 
 murmuring in the valley ; the distant hills lighted np 
 with tlie evening glow ; the clouds red, golden, and 
 grey, massed or strag;4ling over the glorious sky. I 
 felt with Bell that to leave such a place was no easy 
 matter, and as I had given little attention to the 
 Church controversy, I was at a loss what to say. Mr. 
 and Mrs. Barrie observed me, and came forward. 
 After a quiet greeting, I said, " This is a lovely scene. 
 I find myself quoting from Marmion, 'Who would not 
 fight for such a land ?* " 
 
 I had given the quotation strongly ; it startled Mr. 
 Barrie. He said softly and dreamily, as if speaking 
 to himself, "Without were fifjhiings, within were 
 fears ;" then looking me steadily in the face he said, 
 " I go to Edinburgh to-morrow, — a most eventful 
 journey for me and mine. In all probability I will 
 return disjoined from the Established Church of Scot- 
 land, and no longer minister of the parish of Blink- 
 bonny. Excuse me, Mr. Martin, for feeling perplexed 
 and anxious." 
 
 Bell had by this time become a listener, having 
 crept forward very quietly. She looked at me with an 
 imploring face to speak out. I tried to say something, 
 but Mr. Barrie's look was so calm and overpowering, 
 
-^ 
 
 BELL'S SUMMING UP. 
 
 69 
 
 that I could only get out " that I dared not presume 
 to advise in the matter; that several of his people 
 would follow him if he did find it his duty to come 
 out ; and that the Lord would provide." 
 
 This was too much or rather too little for Bell, so 
 she joined the colloquy, addressing herself, however, 
 to me. " Maybe He will, if there's a real need-be ; 
 but what sense or religion either can there be in 
 leaving a kirk and manse provided for us already, and 
 where He has countenanced us and given us peace 
 and prosperity, for a chance 0' anither or maybe nane 
 at a' ? I would see anither door opened first ; as Sir 
 John said yestreen about the clerk 0' the toun 0* 
 Ephesus, we should do nothing rashly. Think on 
 Mrs. Barrie an' the bairns, and the garden and the 
 dumb craiturs, and," looking at the churchyard, 
 she added softly, " wee Nellie." 
 
 Bell had joined the party suddenly, and the above 
 sentence was finished by her almost in a breath. It 
 made Mr. Barrie wince. Mrs. Barrie saw this, and 
 at once left us ; she got Bell to follow her, by saying 
 that doubtless Mr. Martin had business with Mr. 
 Barrie. Mrs. Barrie did her best to soothe Bell by 
 agreeing with her: "Yes, Bell, it will be a severe 
 trial to leave the manse." 
 
 "And a terrible risk, too," said BelL " Oh, mem. 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
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 (716) 873-4S03 
 
 

70 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 !■! 
 
 try and dinna let the maister do't, at least no* as 
 suddenly as he speaks of." 
 
 " I leave Mr. Barrie entirely to the guidance of his 
 own conscience in the matter. If he goes, I go." 
 
 " So will we a', I fancy." 
 
 "Well, liell," said Mrs. Barrie thoughtfully, "we 
 may not be able to kei'p a servant. If we are, and 
 you are willin^^ to go with us, you will be an immense 
 help to us all." 
 
 This overwhelmed BelL Leaving the manse was 
 bad, but leaving the family was terrible ; such a thing 
 had never entered her mind. Luckily the cow 
 " Daisy " began to low impatiently, which relieved 
 Mrs. Barrie of present embarrassment. Bell methodi- 
 cally started for her milking-pail, muttering, " The 
 very coo's no' hersel' the nicht, naether am I ; I'm 
 behint time wi' Daisy, and kye should be milkit 
 regular," — which Bell set about with more than her 
 ordinary vigour, all the time speaking away to Daisy 
 about leaving the manse, and stiffly arguing the matter 
 with the cow. The cow did not seem quite to under- 
 stand her; she usually did, and answered Bell with 
 her meek eye and stolid face ; but Bell's manner 
 to-night was abrupt and excited, and Daisy had 
 probably more difficulty in comprehending the matter; 
 30 she wagged one ear quickly, made sui^dry shorty 
 
as 
 
 wa3 
 
 Tlie 
 
 I'm 
 
 lilkit 
 
 her 
 
 )iiisy 
 
 ider- 
 
 Iwith 
 
 mer 
 
 had 
 
 iter ; 
 
 iort» 
 
 '"')'■ 
 
 Is 
 
 -r. 
 
 P3 
 
r 
 
 !l 
 
 t 
 
BELVS PARISH. 
 
 71 
 
 impatient shakes of her head, and stared intently at 
 Bell, but not with the usual signs of intelligent 
 concert. Daisy couldn't make it out ; neither, alas ! 
 could Bell. 
 
 I did not go into the manse, although Mr. Barrie 
 asked me, I excused myself on the ground of his 
 requiring all the time at his disposal to prepare for 
 to-morrow's journey, but said that many along with 
 myself would wait anxiously for the decision he might 
 make, and I asked him to give me as early intima- 
 tion of it as he conveniently could, assuring him that 
 I would be most happy to be of any service in my 
 power. He thanked me, and putting his arm in mine 
 walked slowly down the garden. As we passed between 
 its liealihy crops and trim flower-beds, he said : 
 
 " This is Bell's parish, and well tended it is. I'm 
 very sorry for Bell ; it must bo e severe trial to her — 
 worthy, hoD3st, laborious Belli" 
 
 We halted at the little wicket gate at the bottom of 
 the garden. There was a sad look on Mr. Barrie's 
 face as he turned round and looked at the pleasantly 
 situated, snug manse. Memory seemed busy unfold- 
 ing her roll of bygone days. It had been the home of 
 his happy married life, the birthplace of his children. 
 Then he looked at the church : it had been the scene 
 of his labours, the joy of his heart, the place of hii^ 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 71 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 ministry to the flock he loved. Then he looked at 
 the churchyard : there was one little spot specially 
 dear, but many others hallowed in his mind by 
 associations of the kind and good who lay there. So 
 absorbed was he by the reflections awakened by the 
 scene, that he seemed unconscious of my presence, 
 and as his eye travelled from object to object, he 
 spoke sadly and to himself, " Yes, beautiful for situa- 
 tion. — Thou excellest them all. — Olive plants. — Where 
 prayer was wont to be made. — Watch-tower. — Pleasure 
 in her stones. — With Christ; far better. — We shall 
 not all sleep." Then, as if awaking from a dream, he 
 said, " Excuse me, Mr. Martin ; the old Adam is too 
 strong for young Melanchthon. Every human con- 
 sideration urges me to remain in the Church of 
 Scotland. I would exhaust every possible means for 
 the sake of all ("^ucemed to avert a disruption, but I 
 cannot, I dare not submit to see her rights infringed 
 or her prerogatives violated; it would be treason to 
 my blaster. And bitter, bitter as the alternative is, I 
 will act as my conscience impels me (and I have 
 given the subject the devout consideration it demands), 
 and leave all, although I freely confess it is a sore 
 trial of my faith. I fear as I enter into the cloud. 
 I must walk by faith, not by sight." 
 
 There was a nobility, a display of true valour in his 
 
THE EVE OF BATTLE. 
 
 73 
 
 attitude, tone, and expression that awed me. The fire 
 of his words kindled a flame in my heart, which 
 grew in intensity as he proceeded. When he had 
 finished he seemed as if he had been transfigured ; his 
 sadness was gone ; he looked like a knight challenging 
 a field of foemen. I could only grasp his hand and 
 stumble out, " The battle is the Lord's ; be of good 
 courage, and let us behave ourselves valiantly for our 
 people and for the cities of our God, and the Lord do 
 that which is good in His sight." 
 
 He returned the grasp very warmly, and said, 
 " Exactly ; that text must be our motto. I thank you 
 for it. But I am detaining you. I will let you know 
 the result whenever declared ; -possibly I may be your 
 tenant at Knowe Park." He said this with a pleasant 
 smile ; and as we said good- night, I added, " Knowe 
 Park will be made as comfortable as I can make it, 
 although, hdd I expected such a tenant, I would have 
 made it better." 
 
 " It's perhaps as much as we'll can afford," said he 
 cheerfully half-way up the garden. "Good night 
 
 again. 
 
 » 
 
 'As I walked homeward I met Sir John M'Lelland. 
 I knew him as a gentleman of the neighbourhood, and 
 had been in the habit of saluting him respectfully, 
 but had rarely spoken to him ; I was therefore sur- 
 
 M-^ 
 
74 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 prised when he said, "I called at the house, Mr. 
 Martin, but learning you were at the manse, I came 
 to meet you. Have you a spaue half-hour % I wish 
 to see you particularly." 
 
 " I am quite at your service, Sir John." 
 " Then take a quiet turn down the road ; " which we 
 did. Sir John then began : 
 
 "Mr. Martin, I want a long talk with you about 
 Mr. Barrie. I know that you are very intimate with 
 him. I need not tell you that I esteem him very 
 highly. As a minister he has few equals, that we all 
 feel J he is, besides, a gentleman in every sense of the 
 word — a scholar, a man of culture, quite an acquisi- 
 tion to the district *Then Mrs. Barrie is a most 
 delightful creature, — I do not know a more thorough 
 lady than she is; and they have a very nice family — 
 very nice children indeed — good-looking ; — so they 
 may well be, considering their parents — the handsomest 
 couple in the parish, I may say in the county. But 
 tlmt is by the bye. Well, the party in the Church 
 of Scotland that call themselves the 'Evangelicals,' 
 as if they were the only true preachers of the gospel, 
 — a most unwarrantable and impertinent name for 
 any party to assume, or rather to adofi^ for they 
 parade it so offensively that it betrays their former 
 orphanage, and they strut about in the plumes they 
 
Sm JOHN M'LELLANHS OPINIONS. 
 
 75 
 
 have stuck on themselves, calliDg their opponents 
 * Moderates/ as if that were a term of contempt. 
 It would be more consistent if they'd let their mode- 
 ration be known to all men; — ^but thai is by the 
 bye. Well, these schismatics and agitators — * Evan- 
 gelicals,* if you like — have raised a hue-and-cry 
 about the Church in danger, and trampling on the 
 rights of the Christian people, and have pestered not 
 only the church courts, but the courts of law and 
 the Government of the country, by their pertinacious 
 intermeddling with time-honoured institutions and 
 the rights of proprietors. And so determined and 
 malignant are the leaders of this movement, that they 
 have dug out one or two exceptional cases (you know 
 the exception proves the rule), and dragged them 
 through the law courts, where they got ignominiously 
 beaten, because justice was administered impartially. 
 This has raised the * odium theologicum,' the most 
 unreasonable and insatiable of all passions ; and 
 instead of acting as law-abiding subjects and as 
 peacemakers, vhey are determined, if Government, 
 forsooth, will not yield to them, to break up the 
 Church of Scotland if they can ! The law has been 
 clearly laid down by the judges of the land, but they 
 demand to be allowed to be a law to themselves." 
 Here Sir John looked very indignant, then went on 
 
76 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 \'r 
 
 in a calmer tone : "What I cannot understand is, that 
 ministers above all others should object to their own 
 rights being protected. The principal uproar has been 
 about some ministers who were appointed to parishes, 
 but the people would not receive them, and even the 
 presbytery refused to ordain them. Kow, especially 
 in the Church of Scotland, every student before he is 
 licensed to preach the gospel has had a complete 
 college education, and several years' training in the 
 divinity halls, and has undergone successfully very 
 searching examinations conducted by eminent pro- 
 fessors, and has, moreover, under presbyterial superin- 
 tendence gone at least creditably through trials for 
 licence, which included sermons on texts assigned to 
 him. Could anything further be desired as a safe- 
 guard against unfit men being allowed to be ministers ? 
 It is from such that the patron, who is generally the 
 largest proprietor in the parish, and has therefore the 
 greatest interest in it, must make a selection and 
 present a minister to a vacant parish church, not 
 unfrequenlJv to * tho church in which he worships. 
 "Well, these Evangelicals ' — ministers themselves, re- 
 member — wish it to be in the power of the members 
 of a church (and you know what a mixture the 
 membership is, of all sorts and conditions — good and 
 indifferent, not to say bad) to reject the minister 
 
 m 
 
HEAVY HTrr/NC. 
 
 77 
 
 appointed by the patron, — a minister trained as I 
 explained before, — and possibly from whim, or spleen, 
 or spite at the patron, to object to his settlement, 
 which can only be done by objecting to his preaching; 
 and to prove their case, I grieve to say, they do not 
 scruple at condemning his services as imedifying, or 
 uninteresting, or unintelligible (very likely to them), or 
 even unsound, — set them up forjudges! — ^and do all in 
 their power to blast the minister's prospects. Does it 
 not strike you, Mr. Martin, as something very strange 
 that ministers should desire to commit themselves to 
 such tribunals in preference to the existing ones ? " 
 
 I was at a loss what to say and how to get out of 
 the difficulty, when Sir John began again with great 
 animation : " What they aim at seems to be a sort of 
 preaching competition, where the man /ho has the 
 knack of tickling the ears, or wheedling t' ffections, 
 or flattering the vanities of a congregation, would 
 certainly outweigh the man of more solid parts. The 
 result would be that young ministers would prepare 
 one or two taking sermons, and thereby secure 
 parishes; and what ought to be a congregation of 
 devout worshippers would become a congregation of 
 critics; and some fussy nobody, by dint of sheer 
 impertinence, would set himself — ay, even herself — 
 up as 'grieved at the prospect of the incalculable 
 
 »4'i^1 
 
7S 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 I 
 
 'I 
 
 injury to be done ,to the highest interests of the 
 parish/ and with a long face say 'she felt it her 
 duty, her bounden duty, her, painful duty,' and 
 stuff of that sort. Dissenting churches have oftener 
 split on the election of preachers than any other 
 thing, and bitter and disgraceful results have followed. 
 In such cases votes are counted, not weighed. I 
 know of a little insignificant * bodie,* — his neigh- 
 bours called him 'Little Gab,' — a creature who was 
 in misery through his indolence and his intermeddling 
 with other folk's affairs to the neglect of his own. He 
 was a Dissenter, and at the meetings for choosing a 
 minister in the chapel he went to, he chattered and 
 moved and objected and protested, and was so often 
 on his feet with his ' Moderator, I move,* * Moderator, 
 I object,* 'Moderator, by the forms of procedure, 
 page, etc.,* that he provoked a smart word from one of 
 their best men every way — in education, position, and 
 judgment. This set the bodie fairly up, and although 
 he richly deserved more than he got, he spoke so glibly 
 that he saddled the church with a minister of whom 
 the late Dr. Hunter, on hearing his first sermon 
 after his ordination — generally a- man's best — said to 
 a friend as they came out of the church, 'Ye'll get 
 that ane to bury.' But that is by the bye." 
 
 Ab Sir John now looked to me to say something, 
 
LITTLE GAB. 
 
 79 
 
 of the 
 it her 
 ^l and 
 oftener 
 ' other 
 llowed. 
 led. I 
 neigh- 
 ho was 
 addling 
 n. He 
 losing a 
 red and 
 often 
 derator, 
 »cedure, 
 one of 
 n, and 
 though 
 glibly 
 whom 
 ermon 
 aid to 
 I'U get 
 
 jthing, 
 
 '^ 
 
 I merely added, " That was like the doctor. I think 
 I know the church you refer to; Little Gab was a 
 waspish bodie." 
 
 He at once resumed : "I am surprised that a man of 
 good sense and sound judgment like Mr. Barrio should 
 be misled by the noisy demagogues — many of them 
 otherwise good men, but on this subject perfect 
 fanatics. I spoke to him on the subject the other 
 nig.it, but made no impression. Have you remon- 
 strated with him ? Did he say anything on the 
 subject to you to-night ? " 
 
 I told him what had passed at the manse. When 
 he heard of Mr. Barrie's firm resolve, he said very 
 excitedly : " It's utter folly — it's sheer madness — it's 
 social suicide, bringing ruin on his family for a mere 
 phantom of excited sentimentality ! Let them stay in 
 the Church and use constitutional means to reform 
 abuses, if any exist. The Church of Scotland has had 
 an honoured past, and must have a glorious future. 
 They vowed to maintain and defend her; they are 
 trying to divide and weaken her. Can they not wait 
 patiently until events are ripe ? Progress in a com- 
 plicated body such as a church is gradual, and should 
 be deliberate. The leaders of this movement are 
 principally men who have risen to ecclesiastical 
 enainenoe by their popular gifts. Not a few of them 
 
;« 
 
 8o 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 fought bitterly against the Dissenters in the Voluntary 
 controversy (which, by the bye, seems shelved for 
 good and all; the pace was too quick to last), and 
 now they urge their brethren to secede if thdr absurd 
 demands are not immediately conceded. I much 
 doubt if the noisiest now will be the first to come out. 
 If they do, I would not wonder to see "^^em the first 
 to rush back again, and change their * Eetract ! no, 
 not a hair's-breadth !* into a breakneck stampede, in 
 which they will crush past their deluded followers, 
 and whine pitifully for pardon and 'place. The State 
 has treated them well, too well, and is entitled to 
 have its conditions fulfilled. They wF.nt the pay and 
 the place, but kick at the terms — wish these all one- 
 sided ; and when the law steps in with quiet dignity 
 and strict justice to protect the rights of proprietors, 
 ministers, and ppople alike, and to insist on these 
 being administered according to express statute, the 
 men who vowed to abide by the law either set it at 
 nought, or demand its subservience to their revolu- 
 tionary ideas. They wish liberty without control, 
 privileges without conditions, and power to exercise 
 despotism without appeal. And because they cannot 
 get it, — because they should not get it, — because, 
 having respect to the welfare alike of Church and 
 State, they must not get it, they keep crying out 
 
VIALS OF WRATH. 
 
 U 
 
 about tyranny and treason, and 'spiritual indepen- 
 dence,' and what not." 
 
 Sir John paused for a little, and I thought he had 
 finished, but something seemed j strike him, and he 
 at it again : " ' ' • " . 
 
 " By the bye, these folks call themselves the Non- 
 Intrusion party. Was ever name so outrageously 
 violated ? Is a proprietor an intruder on his own 
 estate ? Only a desperate . poacher would say yes. 
 Is a man an intruder iii his own house ? None but 
 a burglar would think so. Is a mother an intruder in 
 her own nursery ? Only a vile and cruel nurse, 
 caught in the act of ill-treating the children, would 
 have the audacity to conceive of such a monstrous 
 anomaly. Yet thv'^se intruding non-intrusionista say 
 to the State that fostered them and supports them, 
 and that only wishes to have its fundamental prin- 
 ciples respected, like the poacher, * Be off ! you have 
 no right here ; ' like the burglar, ' I want this, and 
 will have it by hook or by crook * — crook should be 
 put first ; and like the nurse, * Get out of this 
 nursery ! you have no business here ; I'll do what I 
 like, and if you oppose me I'll take the children away 
 from you.' I may be carried away by the strong 
 convictions that force themselves on me as I consider 
 the whole proceedings, the wily, oily sophisms of these 
 
: ■ 
 
 %% 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 non-intrusionists ; but excuse me, Mr. Martin, for say- 
 ing that they should take Judas for their patron, and 
 Herod the king — any of the Herods they like — for 
 their foster-brother." 
 
 Sir John seemed to feel that he had gone too fai, 
 and excused himself for being so bitter. He was a 
 confirmed Tory, and began about " vote-voting, every- 
 thing was vote- voting now-a-days since that Reform Bill 
 had passed. Give some men a vote in Kirk or State, 
 and they became self-conceited, consequential creatures. 
 The more they are canvassed, the more unbearable 
 they get But thaJt is by the bye. I presume you 
 are a Whig, Mr. Martin, so we'll not meddle politics 
 to-night. Then you really think Mr. Barrie will 
 ' come out ' ? " 
 
 " I'm sure of it. Sir John. Mr. Walker of Middle- 
 moor and he start for Edinburgh early to-morrow 
 
 morning. 
 
 >f 
 
 " Mr. Walker!" said Sir John ; "he's a quiet, peace- 
 able man ; he'll not be led away by any Will-o'-the 
 wisp. He'll smoke over it, and think over it, and 
 come back parish minister of Middlemoor as hereto- 
 fore. I'm glad that Mr. Walker is going with Mr. 
 Barrie ; he'll give him the common-sense, considerate 
 view of the question — especially the home view, the 
 family and fireside interest^ which seems •ntireljr 
 
 -'« 
 
 
 ■mi 
 
 ■ si?.' 
 
 
 m. 
 
 % 
 
SIR JOHN'S VERDICT. 
 
 83 
 
 , for Bay- 
 tron, and 
 like — for 
 
 B too fai, 
 le was a 
 ig, every- 
 3form BiU 
 : or State, 
 creatures, 
 mbearable 
 sume you 
 le politics 
 arrie will 
 
 if Middle- 
 morrow 
 
 [et, peace- 
 ^ill-o'-the 
 ^r it, and 
 IS hereto- 
 Iwith Mr. 
 )D3iderate 
 jview, the 
 entirely 
 
 ignored. Should a secession take place, there will 
 be a sad awakening when too late to the meaning of 
 these words : ' If any provide not for his own, and 
 specially for those of his own house, he hath denied 
 the faith and is worse than an infidel,' — worse than an 
 infidel — worse !" Then, after a pause of a few seconds, 
 lie said, " I'm sorry, very sorry for Mr. Barrie ; if it 
 were possible to be angry with such a man, I feel 
 angry — certainly at his conduct, or rather his inten- 
 tions. But I'm glad Mr. Walker goes with him. I 
 am member of Assembly for a royal burgh, and intend 
 going in the day after to-morrow ; I'll set Mr. Walker 
 on Mr. Barrie." Then looking at his watch, he said, 
 " It's getting late ; do you think it would be of any 
 use for me to see Mr, Barrie to-niglit ? The fact 
 is, I cannot rest over this matter — it's too — too — too 
 dreadful altogether." 
 
 I hinted as politely as I could that I thought 
 nothing would shake Mr. Barrie's resolve. Sir John 
 said "he feared as much, but he would see Mr. 
 Walker and other friends, and try to save Mr. Barrie 
 from " — here he hesitated, repeating, " from — from — 
 well, I cannot get a better word — ruin to himself and 
 his family — certain ruin." He shook hands frankly 
 with me, hoped he had not kept me too long, and 
 promised to let me know how matters went ; and as he 
 
84 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 said good night, he looked towards the manse and 
 said, " I cannot get Mr. Barrie and his family out of 
 my head," then started homewards. 
 
 Late as it was, I went to see the new house and 
 garden at Knowe Park. I had urged on the tradesmen, 
 and it was all but finished and dryiTig nicely. The 
 garden had received special attention. Except imme- 
 diately around the new house, it had not been inter- 
 fered with ; and as it was stocked with good fruit- 
 trees and bushes in the days of the old house, these 
 only required trimming and pruning. Bell's cut 
 potatoes and spare plants were further forward than 
 those in ^he manse garden. When I got home it took 
 a long time to tell Agnes the events of the night. 
 Both of us were puzzled as to whether Mr. Barrie or 
 Sir John was right — we rather inclined to Sir John's 
 notion of patience and prudence; and whilst we 
 admired Mr. Barrie's noble resolution, we, especially 
 Agnes, spoke of " whatever was to become of Mrs. 
 Barrie and the dear bairns ? " and did not see through 
 it at alL 
 
 !] 
 \ it 
 
nse and 
 y out of 
 
 luse and 
 idesmen, 
 y. The 
 ►t imme- 
 jn inter- 
 od fruit- 
 Lse, these 
 ell's cut 
 ard than 
 e it took 
 lie night 
 
 iarrie or 
 lir John's 
 
 ilst we 
 |specially 
 
 of Mrs. 
 
 through 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 BLINKBONNY AND THE DISRUPTION. 
 
 ** But there are true hearts, which the sight 
 Of trouble summons forth ; 
 Though known in days of past delight, 
 We knew not half their worth." 
 
 Thos. Haynes Bayley, 
 
 SIR JOHN had written to his steward to tell me 
 that Mr. Barrie had lefu the Established Church ; 
 the steward showed me the letter ; it was a com- 
 pound of amazement, sympathy, and anger. 
 
 Scarcely had he finished, when Bell, evidently in a 
 state of great excitement, came in and said, " Eh, Mr. 
 Martin, it's ower true ; we'll 1 ae to flit I Mr. Barrie's 
 gi'en up the kirk, and he has nae richt noo to the 
 manse. I canna tell exactly when we'll be putten 
 out, but the mistress says we'll no' be allowed to bide 
 lang. I wadna like to be the Government that put 
 Mr. Barrie out o* house and ha'. Some Mordecai will 
 rise ere lang to gi'e us relief, or some Nehemiah to 
 »peak to the king and q^ueeu about the desolation and 
 
I'! 
 
 '■4i^--. 
 
 86 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 atfliction and repror^ch. Them that comes to pit us out 
 will maybe find an enemy in the garden, like Ahab in 
 Naboth's vineyard. What's the world comin' till ? " 
 
 Sir John's steward knew Bell well, and tried to 
 soothe her by saying, " Don't bother yourself. If Mr. 
 Barrie adhered to his resolution to leave the Established 
 Church, no one would presume to hurry him out of 
 the manse ; at all events, he could have it until a 
 successor was appointed." 
 
 But Bell was not in a sociable mood, and only said, 
 " Sooner or later we maun flit." Then handing mo a 
 letter from Mr. Barrie, she said she would step into 
 the kitchen until I got it lead, and wait to see if 
 there was anv answer. 
 
 The letter confirmed the steward's news, and 
 stated it would be a favour if I would reserve for 
 him the first offer of Knowe Park, and that he would 
 be home as soon as possible. After the steward had 
 left I went to Bell, and told her that Mr. Barrie's letter 
 was about Knowe Park, and asked if she would come 
 with me and see if it would suit. This was rather a 
 sudden following up of the affair, as Bell had con- 
 vinced herself that Mr. Barrie would never leave the 
 manse ; and although she had generally ended her re- 
 meirks on the subject with " Wherever could we gang?" 
 8hi9 had not tried to answer the questioa After a 
 
*4^^-, .^ 
 
 KNOWE PARK, 
 
 87 
 
 it us out 
 Ahab in 
 tiU \ " 
 tried to 
 
 If Mr. 
 ablislied 
 I out of 
 
 until a 
 
 aly said, 
 ag mo a 
 itep into 
 o see if 
 
 vs, and 
 erve for 
 e would 
 ard had 
 i's letter 
 Id come 
 atber a 
 ,d con- 
 ,ve the 
 her re- 
 gang?" 
 'ter a 
 
 little hesitation she said, " Knowe Park ! that's where 
 Mr. Taylor lived, — he had a grand apple tree— an 
 ' Oslin pippin.' Is't aye yonder ? It's a nice garden 
 —a nice place to stop. I've noticed them buildin' a 
 new house there, but I haena paid muckle attention 
 till't. I wad like to see't I'll be very glad to gang." 
 And off we set 
 
 It took a very few minutes to go. Bell was 
 pleased with the outside of the house. "It was a 
 nice house — fine big windows — faced the south — wad 
 hae a grand view — the garden was bigger than she 
 thocht, and in gude order, is thae my plants ? — they 
 were thrivin*." With such snatches did Bell accom- 
 pany her survey of the place before she went into the 
 house. She criticized the inside more minutely, her 
 standard being the manse. As she went from room 
 to room she spoke of each, or rather thought aloud : 
 " This is the kitchen — it's very nice — ^lichtsome — 
 plenty 0' room — it looks a nice grate, or I fancy 
 ye'll ca' that a range. I never tried them, but they 
 say they're handy. Presses — ^pantry. What's ben 
 here ? — washing-house — coal-house — awmrie * — bed- 
 room. Very nice; this will do fine. Noo, what about 
 a study ? " I suggested a bedroom, but she gave that 
 
 ^ The old Scotch name for the 8tore*room oontaining dry food, tosh 
 M flour, meal, etc 
 
■#•■■ 
 
 88 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 only a partial approval ; the other rooms pleased her. 
 When I showed the drawing-room, " Drawing-room ! " 
 said she; "we hae nane at the manse, and Mrs. Barrie 
 thinks we get on fine without it. We'll make this 
 the study. But what about the outhouses ? " 
 
 This exercised Bell greatly. There was an old 
 building in the north corner of the place, behind the 
 bleaching- green, which I had left as it was ; it was 
 a compound of stable, hay-loft, cart-shed, fruit-room, 
 and potato-house, but required considerable repair. ^ I 
 ;vas undecided whether to repair it or replace it by 
 a building more in keeping with the house, but Bell 
 protested against new outhouses. " Na, na ; nae mair 
 expenses. Whitewash it, gi'e it a bit sort up, and 
 it will fit us exactly." Then going to the hedge on 
 the east, she said, " Wha's aught this park ? " 
 
 " It goes with the house," said I, " ?nd is at Mr. 
 Barrie's service." 
 
 Bell was delighted: she saw her way to bring. 
 "Daisy" and the hens. She became quite cheerful, 
 and left me, saying as she parted, " It's the very place 
 for us. I wadna say it's just up to the manse, but I'm 
 thankfu' to ken of such a gude hame for them among 
 kent folk. 'Better a wee bush than nae bield,'* as the 
 Baying is. But it's no' wee either ; it's just real nice." 
 
 » Shelter. 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 *i 
 
MR. BARRIES RETURN. 
 
 «9 
 
 ised her. 
 ;-room ! " 
 s. Barrie 
 ake this 
 
 an old 
 lind the 
 ; it was 
 lit-room, 
 ipair. I 
 ce it by 
 but Bell 
 aae mair 
 up, and 
 edge on 
 
 at Mr. 
 
 I bring, 
 heerful, 
 y place 
 nt I'm 
 among 
 as the 
 nice. 
 
 Mr. Barrie's return was awaited by the folks of 
 Blinkbonny 1/ith mingled feelings, uppermost being 
 anxiety about his Avorldly prospects. They were 
 hardly prepared for the Disruption ; and when they 
 learned that Mr. Barrie had disjoined himself from 
 the Church of Scotland, and consequently from his 
 only source of income hitherto, they spoke of it as 
 a serious matter, a very serious matter. It looked a 
 rash step, and they felL more than they said, fop 
 the thought of his family and their future support 
 pressed heavily on their hearts, and made his friends 
 silent and solemn. He reached home on Thursday 
 afternoon, and felt at a loss how t^ act. A few of 
 his elders and friends had had little meetings on 
 the subject, but thece were unsatisfactory, because 
 every one had nearly the same want of opinion. 
 "They really did not know what to do;" "What 
 could they do ? " was all they could say, followed by 
 a shake of the head and a puzzled look at one 
 another. When they learned that Mr. Barrie had 
 got back, they debated whether to wait for him to 
 propose a meeting, or to go to him. The majority 
 recommended that some of their number should call 
 at the pianse ; but each wished his neighbour to go, 
 and all were reluctant. 
 
 At length Mr. Taylor, a worthy elder and a sterling 
 
r ' 
 
 » 
 
 ll 
 
 UK! 
 
 ;Hi 
 
 i 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 man, said: "Friends, it will never do to back out 
 that way. It's unkind to Mr. Barrie, and it's not 
 creditable to ourselves If three or four of you will 
 join me," and looking round the company, he nodded 
 to each «s he named, — "say Mr. ^ "'h, and Mr. 
 Watson, and Mr. Brown, and Mr. Martin, — we'll go, 
 and go soon." 
 
 This met with universal approval, and a letter was 
 sent to let Mr. Barrie know that some friends would 
 wait on him about seven o'clock, if convenient The 
 reply was cordial and touching. It conveyed his 
 heartfelt thanks for " che prompt kindness that pro- 
 vided for him so thoughtfully the earliest possible 
 opportunity of explaining his position, and conferring 
 with them on the important events of the past week," 
 and expressed the pleasure he would have in seeing 
 all that could conveniently come, whether they ap- 
 proved of the step he had taken or not. 
 
 This letter removed the objection that many felt 
 about going to the manse, and the company filled 
 the dining-room. We expected to find Mr. Barrie 
 dejected and downcast, and were surprised to find him 
 not only cheerful, but more demonstrative in his 
 heartiness th^n usual How to intr^uce the itiatter 
 had puzzled the deputation. This was not needed. 
 Mr. Barrie very fu'ly, but in moderate languagOi 
 
7ANFIELD HALL, 
 
 91 
 
 ck out 
 
 
 t's not 
 
 
 ou will 
 
 
 nodded 
 
 '^H 
 
 id Mr. 
 
 
 e'll go. 
 
 fl 
 
 "'^''•^W 
 
 ter was 
 
 t rJfl 
 
 J would 
 
 ./fl 
 
 ■u The 
 
 " -i 
 
 red his 
 
 J'i 
 
 lat pro- 
 
 ■1 
 
 possible 
 
 .^ 
 
 iferring 
 
 
 week," 
 
 
 seeing 
 
 
 ley ap- 
 
 
 ny felt 
 
 
 r filled 
 
 '( 
 ■^ 
 
 Barrie 
 
 
 id him 
 
 1 
 
 in his 
 
 
 matter 
 
 *t 
 
 leeded. 
 
 1 
 
 iguage, 
 
 
 stated the case as between the Free Church, the 
 Government, and the remaining ministers of the 
 Established Church, making it appear very different 
 to me from what Sir John had made it. None of 
 us ever saw him so animated as when he described 
 the meeting of the Assembly from which, after the 
 Protest and Declaration was made, hundreds of mini- 
 sters walked out for conscience' sake ; the perplexed 
 look of the remaining members of Assembly; the 
 awe-struck, solemn silence of the crowd as the line 
 of reverend and grave men became longer and yet 
 longer ; the tumult of joy and sorrow as they crowded 
 into Tanfield Hall ; the reception they got from 
 ministers of other denominations and the Christian 
 public. As, however, these are fully described in 
 the chronicles or annals of the times, I will not 
 repeat them here, but would commend the subject to 
 the attention of the student of history, and of the 
 Scotch people, whichever side of the question's in 
 dispute they may favour. 
 
 When he had laid the case before us, Mr. Barrie 
 with great earnestness said, "I wish no one to join 
 the Free Church, for " — here he hesitated, and looked 
 as if debating something with himself, then resumed, 
 "for — for — well, excuse me for using the term, for 
 my sake. I wish every man to act only on distinct 
 
9» 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 conviction ; and, if I know myself at all, I consider 
 the right of private judgment in such matters such 
 a. holy thing, that I will respect those who, on con- 
 viction, differ from me on this matter, as much as I 
 will those who go along with me in it. And now, 
 Christian friends, I leave the matter in your hands. 
 Consider of it, take advice, and speak your minds." 
 
 A long, impressive silence followed Mr. Barrie's 
 remarks. The deputation looked down, then up, then 
 at one another. At length Mr. Taylor said : " Gentle- 
 men, ye've heard Mr. Barrie — I can answer for 
 myself — with great satisfaction. I've been reading 
 the Merqry " (an Edinburgh newspaper called the 
 Caledonian Mercury) "and the Scotsman on this 
 matter — thanks to Mr. Smith for it. I've mair time 
 for readin* than J oner had, and I never was prouder 
 o* my country than when I read that abune* four 
 hunder ministers had courage enough, and faith 
 enough, and principle enough, to leave the Kirk when 
 they saw that her birthricht was wrested frae her 
 by the sec'lar power, and their consciences scanda- 
 leez'd by open defiance to the fundamental principles 
 of the Christian economy. I needna tell you, gentle- 
 men, that this leaving o' the Kirk means loss o' 
 house and ha', and way o' livin', or stipend as it's 
 
 • Aboy«. 
 
FRIENDS IN COUNCIL. 
 
 93 
 
 ca'd; an' nae doubt there's a sair heart in mony a 
 minister's breast, when he thinks o' his family and 
 them that depends on him. And nae wonder, for in 
 that respect it's a step in the dark, — a* the eerier 
 that he has his nearest and dearest on his back, 
 and a wrang step might finish them a'." Here Mr. 
 Barrie winced, and emitted a sudden sound as if 
 cold water had been poured on his back, which led 
 Mr. Taylor to change his graphic style to one of 
 practical application. " But no' to detain ye, gentle- 
 men, I for one side wi* the Free Kirk, and will 
 dae all in my power to back Mr. Barrie; and I 
 hope and trust that the world '11 see that Scotland 
 hasna lost the Covenanter's spirit yet, and will coun- 
 tenance what I may ca' the martyrs o' her third 
 Reformation, that have gi'en up sae much for their 
 Maister's sake, and never let them want a ' competent 
 portion of the good things of this life.* 'Bear ye 
 one another's burdens, and so ful|il the law of 
 Christ.' " 
 
 Others expressed themselves to the same effect. 
 The oldest man in the party, George Brown, verging 
 on eighty years of age, a " Nathanael," after a few 
 words said, "Mr. Barrie, and Christian friends, I 
 propose that we renew the Covenant." He made the 
 same proposal in one of the early Assemblies, although 
 
94 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONI^Y, 
 
 his weak voice, and the unexpectedness and inex- 
 pediency of the motion, prevented its being taken up. 
 
 It was resolved, on Mr. Barrie's suggestion, to call 
 a meeting of the parishioners for Saturday afternoon, 
 so that he might have an opportunity of explaining 
 the "Disruption" fully to all who would meet with 
 him, and to let the meeting be known in the parish, 
 so that there might be a good attendance. Mr. Barrie 
 also said that, as he considered it inexpedient to 
 conduct the Sabbath service in the (he called it for 
 the first time) "old" church, he would on Sabbath 
 preach on the Annie Green, a nice grassy common, 
 with its banks sloping upwards in a fairly-sized semi- 
 circle, formed at a bend of the burn. 
 
 Before leaving the manse there was a service. The 
 daylight had begun to fade ; Mr. Barrie said that on 
 that account we would sing what we all knew so 
 well as not to need books, the 2d Paraphrase. As 
 he read it, his voice faltered, and there was not a 
 dry eye, or a throat without a lump in it, £is it 
 was sung. I give it in full below, although it must 
 be familiar to nearly all of my readers, leaving them 
 to judge of its singular applicability to the case: 
 
 " God of Bethel ! by whose hand 
 Thy people still are fed ; 
 Who through this weary pilgrimaga 
 Hast all our fathers led : 
 
GEORGE BROWN. 
 
 95 
 
 •* Our V0W8, our pray'rs, we now present 
 Before thy throne of grace : 
 God of our fathers ! be the God 
 « Of their succeeding race. 
 
 • •* Through each perplexing path of life 
 
 Our wand'ring footsteps guide ; 
 Give us each day our daily bread, 
 And raiment fit provide. 
 
 "0 rpread thy cov'ring wings around. 
 Till all our wand'rings cease, 
 And at our Father's lov'd abode 
 Our SQjiIs arrive in peace. 
 
 " Such blessings from thy gracious hand 
 Our humble pray'rs implore ; 
 And thou shalt be our chosen God, 
 And portion evermore." 
 
 The prayer was impressive and devout, fervent in 
 its cry for light and strength and grace, simple and 
 reverent 
 
 .After leaving the manse, the deputation walked 
 slowly down the approach, old George Brown leaning 
 on Mr. Taylor's arm. When we reached the gate 
 opening on the public road, George, who was in front, 
 turned about, and when all had gathered round him, 
 he said : 
 
 "Freends, I'm an auld man, the auldest o* ye a*, 
 and I thank God I've lived to see this day. I've 
 lang mourned o'er the backslidings and defections o' 
 our times, but the Lord has made bare His holy 
 arm. This is the day of His merciful visitation. 
 
96 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 I'll say to you as Moses said to Joshua, 'Be strong 
 and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of 
 them: for the Lord thy God, He it is that doth go 
 with thee; He will not fail thee, nor forsake* thee; 
 fear not, neither be dismayed.' Dinna turn your 
 back in the day of battle, like the sons of Ephraim ; 
 dinna abide by the bleatings of the sheep, like 
 Eeuben, or remain in ships, like Dan ; abune a*, 
 dinna provoke the curse of Meroz for not coming 
 to the help of the Lord against the mighty. Mind, 
 when things werena as they should have been in 
 the days o' Haggai, when men lived in their ceiled 
 houses and let the house o* the Lord lie waste, that 
 they sowed much but brocht in little, when neither 
 their meat nor their drink nourished them, and even 
 their vera claes werena warm. Their wages were 
 putten into a bag wi' holes, and the Lord blew on 
 what did grow; an* the drouth^ spoilt their corn, an' 
 wine, an' oil, an' men, an' cattle, an' a* the labour 
 o* their hands ; and they had blastin', an' mildew, an* 
 haiL But frae the vera day, the four-and-twentieth 
 day o' the ninth month, even from the day that the 
 foundation o' the Lord's temple was laid — frae that 
 vera day the Lord blessed them wi' plenty, an' 
 scattered their faes, and made them as a signet — that 
 
 ^ Drought 
 
 f 
 
ALL THE TITHES, 
 
 97 
 
 Je strong 
 afraid of 
 doth go 
 ike' thee ; 
 iirn your 
 Ephraim ; 
 teep, like 
 abune a*, 
 it coining 
 J. Mind, 
 I been in 
 leir ceiled 
 vaste, that 
 in neither 
 , and even 
 iges were 
 blew on 
 corn, an' 
 he labour 
 lildew, an* 
 twentieth 
 that the 
 frae that 
 enty, an* 
 [net — that 
 
 M 
 
 
 I take to be a finger-ring, aye in His sicht We 
 hae gude reason to believe that the Lord's time to 
 favour Zion has come. He's sitting like a refiner of 
 silver, purifying the sons of Levi Dinna rob Him 
 in tithes and offerings, or He'll curse us wi' a curse ; 
 but oh, my freends, bring a* the tithes into the store- 
 house, — the tithe o' pious hearts and godly zeal, an' 
 prayer, an' brotherly love, an' charity, an* works o' 
 faith, an' labours o' love, and worldly goods — a' the 
 tithes; dinna keep back pairt o' the price, as ye 
 would escape the fate o' Ananias and Sapphira. And 
 if we a' dae our pairt, the Lord will prove true to 
 His promise, an* open the windows o' heaven, and 
 pour out a blessing till there's no room to receive 
 it; and ours will be a delightsome land — ^no more 
 desolate and forsaken, but Hephzibah and Beulah, 
 which means ' Deliglited in,* and ' Married.* " 
 
 There was something of the old prophet in the good 
 man, as he "lifted up his voice and testified.'* An 
 interesting conversation followed, in which present 
 duty was discussed, and each resolved to help the 
 good cause. Before leaving the avenue, under the 
 ahade of the two limes which graced its entrance, 
 without previous concert, but as if moved by a simul- 
 tarieous influence, we uncovered and looked to old 
 George. He quite understood the look^ and feeling 
 
T'- tt T lLgliUl T WJ 
 
 98 
 
 BITS FROM BLINBONNY. 
 
 the impulse, he engaged in prayer. His words had 
 the rich unction of Christian experience ; they lifted 
 us up for the time until we felt as if inside the 
 audience-chamher ; he spoke as one speaks to a father 
 and friend ; it was not wrestling, it was more like 
 Hezekiah's spreading out the letter of the Assyrian 
 captain before the Lord in the temple. The close of 
 the prayer for light and direction was fervent, — that 
 every one of us may ask, " Lord, what wilt Thou have 
 me to do ? " and do it with all our might, as good 
 soldiers, and good servants, and good stewards. During 
 the prayer was heard an occasional " amen," and there 
 was a unanimous "amen" at its close, a very un- 
 common thing in such exercises in Scotland. 
 
 All had shaken hands with George, and were 
 bidding good-bye to each other, when George said: 
 **My freends, Fm gaun to ask a favour. I am a 
 descendant of John Brown o' Priesthill, the carrier 
 that was shot by Claverhouse. I hae his Bible and 
 Psalm-book, and table and arm-chair. I wad like 
 them to be used at the Annie Green on Sabbath by 
 Mr. Barr*\ They hae served the same purpose wi* 
 Cameron and Peden and MacMillan in the covenantin* 
 times, and I think the blood 0' the martyrs is noo 
 springing into the seed of tne Church." 
 
 * Certainly," was the unanimous reply. 
 
 i 
 
)rd3 had 
 ley lifted 
 side the 
 
 a father 
 lore like 
 Assyrian 
 1 close of 
 at, — that 
 hou have 
 
 as good 
 
 During 
 
 md' there 
 
 very un- 
 
 md were 
 
 rge said : 
 
 I am a 
 
 e carrier 
 
 ible and 
 
 wad like 
 
 hbath by 
 
 'pose wi' 
 
 venantin' 
 
 s ia uoo 
 
 « 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE DISRUPTION AND BLINKBONNT. 
 
 Long, long be my heart with such memories filled, 
 As the vase iu which roses have once been distilled ; 
 
 You may break, you may ruin the vase if you will. 
 But the scent of the roses will hang round it still." 
 
 Tliomas Moore, 
 
 NOTICE of the meeting that had been resolved 
 on in the manse was given in the village 
 and parish, chiefly by one telling another of it ; 
 and so effectively was this done, that not a few 
 who had given the day to the work of announcing it, 
 felt disappointed at finding the news had preceded 
 tbem. 
 
 Before the hour of meeting there was an unusual 
 bustle in the streets, even for a Saturday, and the 
 folks seemed all to have on their Sabbath-day clothes. 
 As soon as the doors of the Beltane Hall, the public hall 
 of Blinkbonny, were opened, a stream of people flowed 
 into it, leaving the streets with scarcely a human 
 being on them. Mr. Banie entered very fully into 
 
amc 
 
 100 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 I 
 
 the history of the "Ten Years' Conflict." He was 
 calm, self-possessed, and impressive. His references 
 to the opposite side were marked by caution and 
 Christian courtesy. When speaking of himself, he did 
 so with great modesty ; but he was high in his j)raise 
 of the leaders of the movement, and of the determined 
 attitude they maintained against all interference with 
 the rights of the Christian people, for these alone were 
 the true Christian Church. He pressed on the atten- 
 tion of all the duty of considering prayerfully the 
 whole question ; that they should not be influenced by 
 any motive of mere human friendship or partiality 
 or partisanship, but should bring the light of Scripture 
 and conscience to bear on the path of duty, and walk 
 in it and along it through good and bad report 
 
 Before concluding, he thanked them all for their 
 presence and manifest attention to his statement, and 
 most touchingly for all their loving kindnesses to him : 
 " As the minister of the Established Church of Blink- 
 bonny, I must now say to you 'Farewell,' but 1 
 fervently add the prayer, * The God of peace be with 
 you/ By whatever distinctive name the Churches to 
 which we shall henceforth belong may be called, may 
 we all be members of the * Church of the firstborn, 
 whose names are written in the Lamb's book of life/ 
 and be found in Him here, complete in Him, and for 
 
RING IN THE NEW. 
 
 lOI 
 
 ever with Him yonder ; and as we have this hope in 
 us, let us, a*» far as we are agreed, walk by the same 
 rule, mind the ^ame thing, and live at peace one wit}i 
 another." 
 
 He then told that he did not feel himself at liberty 
 to occupy his old pulpit next day ; that as far as he 
 knew, no one had been appointed to preach in it ; but 
 that he would preach on the green by the burn-side 
 at the usual hour in the forenoon, and at six o'clock 
 in the evening. And he hoped his former (with a slight 
 hesitation on his part, and a responsive sigh from the 
 meeting) congregation would join in the service, and 
 not be deterred by the fear that their presence would 
 be construed as committing them to his views of the 
 Church question. No such conclusion would be drawn. 
 He would endeavour by God's help to preach the 
 gospel. Let them come to hear i^, not him. He also 
 expressed a willingness to answer any questions, or 
 give further explanations, or to confer with any who 
 might prefer a private interview. 
 
 There was a long silence; at length old George 
 Brown rose and said : " My friends, it's Saturday nicht. 
 Mr. Barrie's haen a sair week, an' doubtless mony o* 
 ye hae come here this day upon account o' the occa- 
 sion, when but for it ye wad hae been at hame at 
 your proper duties; and ye'll a' hae to get things weel 
 
102 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 i 
 
 fonit^ to get to ordinances the morn, so I think 
 we'll be maist in the way o* our duty if we think weel 
 aboot what we've heard, and meditate on it." Then 
 looking round the audience, he asked, " What say ee, 
 my friends ? " As there was no reply, George looked 
 to Mr. Barrie, and said, " I think, sir, ye should 
 just conclude wi' praise and prayer; and if I may 
 venture, I would say, gie oot the Forty-third Psalm 
 an' the 3d verse. If we all sing the first four lines 
 fi-ae the heart, there will be a time o* refreshin' the 
 
 morn. 
 
 "0 send thy light forth and thy truth; 
 Let them be guides to me, 
 And bring me to thine holy hill, 
 Ev'n where thy dwellings be.' " 
 
 George was unmaiTied, and lived by himself. He 
 was in the constant practice of making worship aloud 
 and alone, reading each verse singly and then singing 
 it He, without waiting for Mr. Barrie " giein' out " 
 the psalm, and as if quite forgetful of his presence, 
 started to sing it to the tune called " Bedford," which 
 the audience very heartily joined in. At the dose 
 of the first verse George held up one hand to 
 secure silence, and repeated in singing tone on one 
 key the next verse, — what my older readers will 
 remember as " reading the line," — which was t an sung, 
 
 ^ Forward. 
 
% 
 
 READIN' THE LINE. 
 
 IQ3 
 
 think 
 k weel 
 
 Then 
 say ee, 
 looked 
 should 
 I may 
 
 Psalm 
 ir lines 
 nin' the 
 
 If. He 
 
 p aloud 
 
 singing 
 
 n' out " 
 
 resence, 
 
 ' which 
 
 e close 
 
 nd to 
 
 on one 
 
 Irs will 
 
 n sung, 
 
 and so on to the end of the psalm. George was then 
 proceeding to close his eyes for the prayer, after having 
 made a slight bow to Mr. Barrie ; but Mr. Barrie said, 
 " Lead our devotions, if you please, Mr. Brown ; " and 
 the old man did this so as to make every heart thrill, 
 and many strong men sob, and all the women cry. 
 I was too much agitated to be able to carry away 
 much. I am sorry to confess that the bit I can best 
 recall is not the most impressive and solemn part, but 
 rather a bit memorable for its quaintness as a specimen 
 of the prayers of the earlier days of the old worthies : 
 " That all who on the coming Sabbath assemble in the 
 courts of Thy house may be delivered from formality, 
 and legality, and carnality, purged from the leaven of 
 malice and wickedness, and prepared according to the 
 preparation of the sanctuary; . . . and that all Thy 
 sent servants may be ministers of the true tabernacle, 
 which the Lord pitched, and not man, and may be as 
 the he-goats before the flocks." 
 
 Mr. Barrie pronounced the benediction, but the 
 audience seemed unwilling to break up. At length 
 old George stepped forward and shook Mr. Barrie's 
 hand, wishing him "the blessing of him that was 
 separated from his brethrea" This proved contagious : 
 ever}'' one shook hands with Mr. Barrie; even BeU, 
 who ]imd been trying to keep herself concealed during 
 
 .0.rv 
 
I0« 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 1 ; 
 
 the meeting, forgot her reserve, and although she broke 
 down immediately after, and sobbed bitterly, she kept 
 saying between the sobs, "The arrow of the Lord's 
 deliverance ; — the bush burning but not consumed ;— - 
 the five loaves and the two small fishes." 
 
 As she went out, old George Brown was at her side, 
 and everybody that could get near him was shaking 
 his horny hands. He had overheard Bell saying, 
 " It is good for us to be here." George knew Bell 
 well, and taking her hand he said, " Yes, Bell, 'deed - 
 is*t. Or ever I was aware, my soul made me like 
 the chariots of Amminadab." Then looking heaven- 
 wards : " Return, return, Shulamite ; return, return, 
 that we may look upon thee. What will ye see in 
 the Shulamite ? As it were the company of two 
 armies — or, as it's in the margin, Mahanaim, the 
 place where the angels met Jacob on his way back to 
 Canaan, and Jacob said, * This is God's host, and he 
 called the name of that place Mahanaim.' " 
 
 One subject filled every heart on the way home- 
 wards. There was little said; bhey mused, and the 
 fire burned. 
 
 Sabbath morning brought promise of a lovely sum- 
 mer day, and the promise was not belied. Gavin 
 Sinclair, or "Guy," now the full beadle, sexton, bell- 
 man, and minister's man of Blinkbonny, was in a state 
 
THE BELLMAN*S DILEMMA, 
 
 "05 
 
 of great perplexity. Annie Gawdie, who cleaned the 
 church, had told him that just as she was finished on 
 Saturday night, everybody came " troopin' into the kirk 
 to take awa' their books, an' spoke o' coming in soon 
 to take away their cushions and stools ; that they had 
 made a bonnie mess o' her clean kirk, and when she 
 quarrelled them for it, they said there was to be nae 
 kirk in the morn, but Mr. Barrie was to preach on the 
 Annie Green." 
 
 Guy had not gone to the meeting. He was a 
 cautious man, and "didna think it became the like o' 
 him, being a man in a public capacity, to meddle wi' 
 kirk quarrels; for although Mr. Barrie micht leave 
 the kirk, — the mair's the pity, for we'll no* soon get 
 ane like him, if ever, — there was the kirkyard. Ane 
 didna ken how soon they micht hae to break the 
 gr'und for some death or anither in the parish. He 
 didna like to gi'e offence to ony side — he had to look 
 till his bread," etc. 
 
 Guy's difficulty was whether to ring the church 
 If^U or not. He always rung it at ten o'clock, and 
 would do that as usual, — ^**That wasna the bell for 
 gaun to the kirk — it was just to let folk ken the richt 
 time to set their clocks by." His "swither" was 
 about the ringing of the bell for calling the folk to 
 the kirk at the usual time. If, as he learned, there 
 
io6 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 . \ 
 
 \ 
 
 I' ! 
 
 ^ I 
 
 '' was to be no sermon in the kirk, what for should he 
 ring the bell ? Then, on the ither hand, what business 
 had he to stop the ringing o' the bell without orders ? 
 and wha was to direct him? Would he ask Mr. 
 BaiTie, or the schoolmaster, who was session-clerk ? 
 He never did that before, and it would look officious." 
 So he resolved to go on as usual. He rang 
 the bell at ten o'clock, and sauntered, as was his 
 wont, to the manse to ask if there were any orders 
 for him, such as to make preparations for a baptism ; 
 but instead of going into the kitchen, he hovered 
 about the door until Bell observed him. Bell was full 
 of activity to get all ready that she might go to the 
 Annie Green, and had forgotten about Guy's regular 
 caU. Both were perplexed. Guy muttered, he won- 
 dered if there " would be ony orders for him the day 
 — she nficht ask the minister — if — ^if he — ^if he had 
 ony — ony special — " Then a happy idea seemed to 
 strike him, and he got out — *^ onything to get ready 
 before beU-time ? " 
 
 Bell took in the situation at once, but had not time 
 to master it. Generally the pulpit Bible and Psalm- 
 book were put on the parlour table on Sabbath morn- 
 ings, ready for Guy, and Bell got instructions about 
 anything specially wanted. They were not on the 
 table, but in the study, which Bell never entered 
 
)uld he 
 usiness 
 orders ? 
 3k Mr. 
 -clerk ? 
 icious." 
 ) rang 
 ^as his 
 
 orders 
 iptism ; 
 lovered 
 v&s full 
 
 to the 
 regular 
 won- 
 he day 
 le had 
 
 led to 
 
 ready 
 
 G[/rS DECISION. 
 
 107 
 
 before church time. She asked Mrs. Barrie, who 
 apswered that there could be nothing. Bell lingered, 
 and said in a distant tone, " I think, mem, that 
 Guy disna ken whether to ring the bell at kirk-time 
 
 or no'." 
 
 Mrs. Barrie hesitated a little whether to disturb 
 Mr. Barrie or not, then said, "Tell Guy to please 
 himself; that Mr. Barrie left no orders, and I cannot 
 disturb ^ him at present, but will ask him at half-past 
 eleven and let Guy know what he says." 
 
 At half-past eleven, as usual, Mrs. Barrie tapped at 
 the study door, and said, " Now, my dear." Mr. Barrie 
 almost immediately came out, and she asked him about 
 the bell, lifting up at the same time the simple 
 Geneva pulpit gown worn by Presbyterian ministers, 
 to help him on with it Mr. Barrie did not turn and 
 stoop a little as usual to get the robe of office put on, 
 but kept saying, 
 
 " Bell — ring the bell — I had not thought of that 
 What do you think, Mary ? " 
 
 Mrs. Barrie said she had told Guy to do as he 
 thought fit, unless he got other instructions, — " the 
 best thing that could have been done in the circum- 
 stances." 
 
 Guy did ring the bell as usual, and got a neighbour 
 to tell any who came that the service was to be on 
 
io8 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 the Annie Green: The herald, however, had little to 
 do. A few slipped quietly into the church for their 
 pew Bibles ; some paid their weekly visit to the graves 
 of their loved ones around the church ; but the stream 
 was towards the Annie Green. About a dozen male 
 figures stood around the church door when the bell 
 ceased; the stream had passed; not a straggler was 
 in the churchyard. After a general conversation they 
 broke up; some went to the Annie Green, others 
 moodily and wonderingly homewards. 
 
 I had arranged with George Brown to get his 
 ancestor's chair, table, and books brought to my place 
 on Saturday evening, and persuaded him to stay with 
 me till Monday. I had also told Mr. Barrie about 
 them. The incident pleased him, and touched him 
 not a little. AH forms, chairs, and available seats 
 were brought by willing hands to the Annie Green 
 early in the forenoon. The Priesthill relics were placed 
 nearest the bum, the forms and chairs in front, and 
 the dry grassy braes of the bum, which at the place 
 had the form of an irregular half-circle sloping gently 
 upwards, afforded comfortable room for a laige con- 
 gregatioi*. 
 
 Long before the hour of meeting, the country folks 
 began to come in, going from " strength to strength." 
 Mai^y lingered about the old church and churchyard, 
 
UNDER THE OPEN CANOPY. 
 
 109 
 
 ttle to 
 
 
 r their 
 
 • 
 
 
 graves 
 
 
 stream 
 
 
 1 male . 
 
 
 le bell 
 
 
 er was 
 
 
 n they 
 
 
 others 
 
 
 ^et his 
 
 
 jr place 
 
 
 ly with 
 
 
 about 
 
 ^^^^K^ 
 
 d him 
 
 
 seats 
 
 
 Green 
 
 
 placed 
 
 
 It, and 
 
 
 1 place 
 
 
 Lently 
 
 *^^Bv 
 
 1 con- 
 
 H 
 
 1 folks 
 
 
 Igth." 
 
 
 Bvard, 
 
 
 and on the road or sward leading to the place of 
 meeting. Mr. Barrie left the manse in time to walk 
 leisurely. His plain black Geneva gown, his hand- 
 some figure, his 
 
 " Aspect macly, grave, and sage. 
 As on king's errand come," 
 
 gave solemnity to the scene. Mrs. Barrie leant on 
 his arm. Each led one of the younger children by the 
 hand, whilst Bell followed with the two older ones. 
 As soon as they entered the avenue, the word, " There 
 he is — there they are," passed from lip to lip; and 
 when they came to the public road, and as they 
 walked along it, the people stepped aside and stood 
 hat in hand till they had passed, then falling in 
 behind, formed an irregular procession to the green. 
 Those who had already gathered there all rose up and 
 uncovered as Mr. Barrie appeared. When the audi- 
 ence ha.d got seated or settled, Mr. Barrie opened the 
 service by reading the 125th Psalm, which he did in 
 a firm, clear voica The braes of the burn, the glen, 
 the neighbouring woods, and for a considerable dis- 
 tance the country around, heard the sound of grave, 
 sweet melody, rising in volume and intensity as it 
 proceeded. The tune was "St. Andrew's," an old 
 favourite, and said by tradition to be associated in 
 early Scottish Reformation times with the same words ] 
 
no 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 
 " They in the Lord that firmly trust 
 Shall be Uke Sion hUl, 
 Which at no time can be remov'd. 
 But standeth ever still. 
 
 " As round about Jerusalem 
 The mountains stand alway, 
 The Lord his folk doth compass so. 
 From henceforth and for aye." 
 
 All the services were impressive, but I will not 
 attempt to detail them. The text was, " Jesus Christ, 
 the same yesterday, and to-day, and fcr ever." The 
 seimon .was, in the opinion of all, the best sermon 
 they had ever heard from him. George Brown was 
 delighted with it — characterized it as '* a feast of fat 
 things full of marrow, of wines on the lees well refined : " 
 and all the more so that Mr. Barrie's practice had 
 hitherto been to have his carefully prepared manuscript 
 before him when preaching, and to use it occasionally, 
 while on this occasion all that he had was the open 
 Priesthill Bible. The only objection that George ever 
 had to Mr. Barrie was that he used " the paper ;" read 
 sermons were, according to George, ne'ther good for 
 minister nor people. To-day there was nothing to mar 
 George's enjoyment of the worship. The concluding 
 paraphrase was sung with even more enthusiasm. It 
 was the 48th Paraphrase, verses 6-9 ; the tune was 
 "Montrose," sometimes called "the burghers* rant." 
 I give it in full, as I did the one sung in the manse, 
 
 
 r 
 
^^"^^^^ SWEST MELODY, 
 
 and my readers can imaOTnA fC ^~~^ — 
 
 «nni, J imagine the vigour with which 
 
 such words were sung in such * r« .• 
 crisis :_ ""^^^'"^ ^' ««<^ a 
 
 "Who then can e'er diTide us mow 
 * rora Jesus and his love, 
 
 ThT'^iw*^"^*'^*^^*^-* binds 
 
 The earth to heav'n above ? - 
 
 ''Let troubles rise, and tem>rsf«,wn. 
 And days of darkness faU • 
 
 Through him aU dangers we'll defy 
 
 And more than conquer all. 
 
 Jfor times destroying sway. 
 
 Can e'er efface us fn>m his heart 
 Or make his love decay. 
 
 H^I^ ^ fro°^ the fi.7of time, 
 iie loves us to the last." 
 
 •-- debated whether Zr^L^T''- '' "^ 
 
 the occasion, but Mr TayZ w! ""^ """''' "^ 
 
 have one. « Bring a„„? '"°" '''^™^«'^ *» 
 
 -onng an oflennff with vnn » ««-j ^ 
 
 «« plain a command aa, Come inl i '' "'" 
 
 he undertook to provide .T! """''''" """I 
 
 tu provide and to stand af « y* t 
 
 ;h.ch we. placed Just ineide the 1 of t "f ' 
 «-- The result surprised Mr. i^ I " 
 
 'earned that many borrowed of tK • ' """=" 
 
 that the amount pnt iZll ""^'"""«' '^'^ 
 
 * " ""' """gregation retired wa. 
 
.»ar.^>yg>».- 
 
 iia 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 larger than that made as they entered. The sum was 
 £29, 13s. 3d. 
 
 George, of course, took dinner with us, and a few 
 country friends joined who wished to be at the even- 
 ing service. I had been struck with the worn 
 appearance of the knees of George's clothes compared 
 with the fresh " nap " on the other parts ; but I 
 observed that, when asking a blessing before meat, and 
 returning thanks after it, he rubbed his hands firmly 
 over his knees, moving his body backwards and 
 forwards, and speaking louder as he began the forward 
 motion. His exercises were longer than are usual in 
 such cases, and I found on further acquaintance with 
 him that they were stereotyped, generally containing, 
 " May we go up through the wilderness of this world, 
 leaning on the staff of Him who is the beloved of our 
 souls. May we sit under His shadow with great 
 delight, and find His fruit sweet unto our taste. Bless 
 and sanctify all Thy ways and dealings towards us, etc. 
 "When remarking on the sermon, he also rubbed his 
 knees and discoursed rather than conversed about it 
 
 The evening service was better attended than the 
 forenoon one. The burst of music was overpowering 
 as the 46th Psalm was being sung : — 
 
 '* God is oar refuge and our strength^ 
 In sUftiU a pieacni aid/' cWt 
 
a few 
 even- 
 worn 
 oapared 
 but I 
 jat, and 
 i firmly 
 :d3 and 
 forward 
 usual in 
 ace with 
 ntaining, 
 is world, 
 d of our 
 ith great 
 Bless 
 us, etc. 
 Ibbed bis 
 tout it. 
 iban tbe 
 towering 
 
 i 
 
 ■'i'>.i 
 
 FREE-WILL OFFERINGS, 
 
 "3 
 
 The sermon was from these words, " Seek ye first 
 the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all 
 these things shall be added unto you." It was a 
 grand sermon, suitable for aU times. At the close, 
 in a few moderately worded sentences, Mr. Barrie 
 referred to the special circumstances under which they 
 had met, and stated that they would meet in the 
 same place next Sabbath, the first Sabbath of June, the 
 anniversary of the battle of Drumclog ; and he waxed 
 eloquent as he held up John Brown of Priesthill's 
 Bible, and referred to the other relics before him, until 
 the audience felt the martyr spirit, and were sorry 
 that he concluded so soon. 
 
 I have already referred to the singing of the day, 
 and wiU only add that the singing of the concluding 
 psalm — cxxii., verses 6-9, to the tune of " St. 
 Paul's"— 
 
 " Fray that Jerusalem may have 
 Peace a ad felicity ; 
 Let them that love thee and thy pMM 
 Have still prosperity ** — 
 
 was grand. The evening's collection made the day's 
 offering amount altogether to over £38. I have 
 dwelt at more length than I intended on this subject, 
 but it was a gi'eat event for a little place. Very 
 possibly I have overdrawn the picture ; but had you 
 mingled with the companies of the worshippers as 
 
y 
 
 ^ 
 
 114 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 they walked homewards, you would have heard Mr. 
 Barrie's oldest hearers say he never preached like that 
 in his life before, and strangers that they had no idea 
 that Mr. Barrie could preach like that, — "he was a man 
 of immense ability, — the best sermon they had ever 
 heard, — it's a wonder he had been so long in Blink 
 bonny." 
 
 The attendance at the Annie Green on the first 
 Sabbath of June was as large as on the previous 
 Sabbath, and the services had special reference to the 
 struggles of the Covenanters and the battle of Drum- 
 clog. Old George Brown was highly satisfied. "I 
 have often," said he, "spoken to Mr. Barrie about 
 saying ower little about tL .e Cath'lics, and that he 
 should raise his testimony against Prelacy and Popery ; 
 but he aye said that even if he was speakin' to 
 Cath'lics, he wad preach the plain gospel, an* no scare 
 them away by denouncin' baith them an' their system, 
 or settin' them against the truth by no' speakin' it in 
 love ; and for his ain people, it would ' mmister ques- 
 tions rather than godly edifying,' as he thocht that 
 runnin' doon the Cath'lics was apt to make folk think 
 because they werena Cath'lics that tboy were a^ richt, 
 an* beget spiritual pride. An* he wasna far wrang. 
 But his subject led him on the day, and I was 
 uncommon pleased to hear him speak as he did o' the 
 
FRIENDS IN DEED. 
 
 "5 
 
 heard Mr. 
 Hike that 
 id no idea 
 was a man 
 r had evet 
 in Blink 
 
 n the first 
 le previous 
 cence to the 
 Le of Drum- 
 ttisfied. " I 
 Jarrie about 
 md that he 
 and Popery ; 
 speakin* to 
 an' no scare 
 heir system, 
 peakin' it in 
 nister ques- 
 thocht that 
 le folk think 
 ere a^ richt, 
 far wrang. 
 and I was 
 te did 0* tHe 
 
 anld worthies, Knox and Melville, and Cameron an' 
 Peden, and my forbear Brown, an* let this backslidin*, 
 worldly-minded generation ken hoo far behint their 
 ancestors they were in courage an' piety, in thocht, 
 word, an' deed." 
 
 There was a congregation of the United Secession, 
 now the United Presbyterian, Church in Blinkbonny, 
 and Mr. Morrison, the minister, and his session had 
 generously offered to accommodate the Free Church, 
 as far as lay in their power, with the use of their 
 church, as the largest hall in the village was too small 
 for the congregation. Mr. Morrison was a diligent 
 student, conscientious and minute in his preparations 
 for the pulpit: he wrote these carefully out, and 
 spent the last two days of the week in committing 
 them to memory. He was an estimable man, an 
 excellent scholar, had been a great reader, and was 
 well versed in general science ; but he had an affluence 
 of words and a Johnsonian style of composition that 
 injured him as a preacher. His matter was good, 
 sound, unexceptionable, but his manner of conveying 
 it was verbose, often a mere recasting of the grand 
 old English of the Bible into a laboured and profuse 
 style of expression. He seldom used the terse old 
 Saxon words if he could get a word o ' grander sound 
 derived from another language, hy-A, used " plenitude " 
 
r 
 
 ii6 
 
 BITS FROM BUNKBONNY, 
 
 instead of "fulness/' "capacitate" for "fit," and "salu- 
 brious " for " healthy." His voice was good, but the 
 long, involved sentences made it appear monotonous, 
 and justified the critique of old Eobert Gunn : " Vera 
 gude matter, nae doubt, but tedious, a wee tedious. 
 He has lang 'heids,'^ an' disna aye gi*e them ower 
 again in the same words, which fickles* the young 
 folk that have to tell the ' heids an* particulars * when 
 they gang hame ; for if, as is gey an' often the case, 
 the first ' heid * is, * The persons mentioned in the text/ 
 we're almost sure to hear when he's done with it, 
 • Having thus considered, in the first place, the indi- 
 viduals to whom reference is made in the deeply 
 interesting and highly instructive passage which I 
 have selected as the subject of this morning's exposi- 
 tion,* which is baith confusin* an' tedious/' 
 
 The services in the " Meetin'-house," the local 
 name of the Secession Church, occupied without inter- 
 val fully three hours, and included a lecture aad a 
 sermon of at least an hour each. In order to suib- 
 the Free Church, these were begun at ten o*clock, 
 and oui"S at one. This put Mr. Morrison to the 
 serious difiiculty of condensing his services. For the 
 first two Sabbaths he did not manage this. As he 
 had ^proposed that the Free Church should meet at 
 
 > Divisious of a seimon. ^ Puzzles. 
 
 V__ 
 
H 
 
 CORN AND CHAFF. 
 
 117 
 
 ind " sala- 
 >d, but the 
 lonotonous, 
 an: "Vera 
 ee tedious, 
 them ower 
 
 the young 
 ulars * when 
 jn the case, 
 
 in the text/ 
 one "with it, 
 ice, the indi- 
 the deeply 
 ige which I 
 ling's exposi- 
 
 ^'" the local 
 rithout inter- 
 Lcture aad a 
 Irder to suHr- 
 ten o'clock, 
 i-ison to the 
 kes. For the 
 iihis. As he 
 Id meet at 
 
 lea. 
 
 one o'clock, he was remonstrated with very plainly by 
 some of his people. Eobert Gunn, a forward " body," 
 had suggested the means : " Just dicbt [sift] yer corn 
 better, and leave less chaff in't." 
 
 On the third Sabbath he got through in about 
 two hours and a half, and kept thereafter rather 
 within that limit, although not without having often 
 to say, "Did time permit, I would have proceeded," 
 etc., or, "The brief space of time at my disposal 
 prevents me from entering on the full illustration of 
 my next head, but I may say in a word — ." That was 
 an ominous expression, and the result often proved it 
 an inconsistent one, as the "word," or "one word 
 more," seldom occupied less than fifteen minutes 
 " Lastly, and very briefly," was another term contra- 
 dicted by the sequel. 
 
 The shorter service was a comfortable change for 
 those whose uneasy task it was to keep their chili^ren 
 " behaving themselves " in the church. James Spence, 
 whose regular remark to his neighbours on their road 
 home had been, " He said a great deal, really he said 
 a very great deal," gave as his opinion that '* he 
 really thocht that thei-e was less skailt noo that the 
 kirk skailed sooner,^ for even yet there was a great 
 deal said that we couldna carry home, and mair that 
 1 «' There was less spilt now that the church was dismissed soonsi;'' 
 
mmfm 
 
 ii8 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 I i 
 
 we didna cany oot ; and wi* the bairns no' bein' sae 
 fashions through no' bein' sae lang in, we could attend 
 better." 
 
 The Free Church services in the Meeting-house 
 were well attended. Many of the Seceders joined in 
 them, and confessed with shame that their sectarian 
 bitterness towards the principle of a church establish- 
 ment had extended to its ministers, on whom they 
 had looked uncharitably as " Samaritans," with whom 
 they could have no dealings, and they were surprised 
 to find Mr. Barrie so excellent. Maggie Gunn told 
 her father " that yon minister preached as well as 
 Mr. Morrison, only far better." Mr. Barrie became a 
 favourite with them; although, to the honour of all 
 parties be it told, that no one left the Secession to 
 join the Free Church on that account Between Mr. 
 Morrison and himself, as well as between the office- 
 bearers and congregations, there existed the most 
 cordial relationships, and the interchange of pleasant 
 communion and fellowship. I look back with so 
 much delight to the sympathy and help we got in 
 the beginning of our way from our Secession friends, 
 that I fear I have been, to use Eobert Gunn's phrase, 
 "a wee tedious." 
 
 Mr. Walker of Middlemoor was Mr. Barrie's suc- 
 cessor in the parish church of Blinkbonny. In 
 
THE NEW PARISH MINISTER. 
 
 119 
 
 >' bein sae 
 uld attend 
 
 jting-house 
 3 joined in 
 r sectarian 
 1 establish- 
 vhom they 
 with whom 
 re surprised 
 Gunn told 
 as well as 
 e became a 
 mour of all 
 jecession to 
 between Mr. 
 the office- 
 the most 
 of pleasant 
 ;k with so 
 we got in 
 don friends, 
 Lii's phrase, 
 
 (arrie's suc- 
 mny. In 
 
 making application to Sir John M'Lelland for the 
 living, he was very honest in telling his motives, 
 viz. that the stipend was larger, and the manse and 
 glebe were better; and his family were growing up, 
 and he would like to get settled in a place where 
 he could get openings for the older ones, schooling 
 for the younger ones, and where they could all come 
 home at night ; and he would be very much obliged 
 to Sir John if he would present him to Blinkbonny. 
 And he was presented and inducted in due fo^m. 
 and time. 
 
 He was a kind-hearted, stout, canny man, of mode- 
 rate abilities as a scholar and preacher. His parish 
 of Middlemoor was a small one, in a pastoral and 
 moorland district, thinly peopled. It had a large 
 §lebe of indifiFerent land, which he cultivated diligently 
 to eke out his small stipend. He was quite as good 
 at farming as preaching, and had, on Mr. Barrie's 
 suggestion, been Bell's adviser in the purchase or sale 
 of cows, sheep, or pigs. Even on the subject of 
 poultry he was at home, as he made his son keep a 
 " hen journal," partly as a lesson in book-keeping, and 
 partly as a practical applicatior of the inspired proverb, 
 which was often in his mouth, *' Be diligent to know 
 the state of thy flocks, and look well to thy herds." 
 
 He was a frequent visitor at Mr. Barrie's, an 
 
190 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 occasional "assistant" at the October communion 
 services, and a regular member of the " thanksgiving " 
 dinner-party at the manse on the Monday thereafter. 
 He was a man of peace, and took little interest in the 
 Voluntary, Disruption, or other controversies ; and when 
 these formed the subject of after-dinner discussion, he 
 left the dining-room, and slowly betook himself to 
 the kitchen for a smoke, for he was an inveterate 
 smoker. 
 
 He looked relieved as he entered the kitchen ; said, 
 " Well, Bell ; " dropt heavily into the arm-chair which 
 stood at the fireside (the arms of which were barely 
 wide enough to admit him, but they yielded with a 
 creak, and he got in, but had to press them firmly 
 down before he got out) ; took out his pipe— generally 
 a short black one ; knocked out the dottle^ on the 
 hob-plate ; tried if it would draw, and if not, cleared 
 the bowl with the point of his knife, and if that 
 failed, asked Bell for a stalk of lavender. When the 
 pipe was cleared to his mind, he slowly cut some thin 
 slices from a roll of twist tobacco, rubbed the fragments 
 between his hands, filled his pipe, put on the " dottle," 
 and applied the *' spunk," from which Bell had broken 
 off the sulphur tip. All these operations and details 
 were done with very great deliberation and in grave 
 ^ The diy, crisp remains of a former smoke, 
 
silence, with the except^^7^7T^,~r~; 
 
 «talk, which was only reaort«H \ . ''''''"'^*"' 
 
 °^ the pipe had fai.L • Td af 7 "' ^'""'^ '""^' 
 and going well h/ I ' ' "' "'^ ^"'■''^ ^^ghted 
 
 crack ' ' ''^" ->tennittent, congLal 
 
 Tobacco smoke Bell of^^^^A 
 person would have eel "'"'• ^^ <'"'- 
 
 kitchen with it Td 1 '"™"^' '^ P°""'« h- 
 Walter to «„"! ' '""" "'^ ^"^^ 8°' ^r. 
 ^•-e With r:^lt;'^-:-°; the garden and 
 
 day came round L 7, /T ' ' *" ""'« '''Mer- 
 
 sort, that they miahf n.f u ^'°^^ °^ ^^at 
 
 -t herself to'e^fj;,.«;«-^hed^ 
 
 -pact the .lenL'^ Z^'^r^''''''- ^^ ^ 
 - the after-cct was sure ^ be iTl ""'""''''' 
 
 ^' the last October dinner r ^ '"''"• 
 whiffs, Mr. Walker be^an tl? T " ""^ '"^'"""S 
 
 '■- .>ad to get awaX''';::^r ^'''' ""*"' 
 "^« Kirk; I cannot larehetfr- ^""'"' 
 -'^ about livestock How a^..^ '^"^^ *" 
 
 -- told aboutTcrnd :v^''' -' ^ 
 
 •-aire- (the anin,.! which ^1^1^:' T ''' 
 
 ■ ^^^ ^^^ and aalted 
 
 & 
 
i2a 
 
 BITS FROM BUNKBONNY. 
 
 for winter use) had weighed, and how the hens, bees, 
 etc. had done — alternately speaking and smoking. I 
 cannot give the interview in detail, but both agreed 
 they had had a grand crack — better than ony kirk 
 quarrels. 
 
 It was from the following story, which Mr. Walker 
 then told, that Bell had first heard of the Church 
 "question;" but his way of putting it was so con- 
 clusive to Bell, that she thought no more about it 
 until the matter of the potatoes brought it home to 
 herself. 
 
 A lady from Leiih had come to reside in Middle- 
 moor, and had said to the farmer of Hillend, who had 
 accosted her with, " Weel, mem, hoo d'ye like to bide 
 in this moorland country ? ** 
 
 " Very much indeed, it's delightful I If I had only 
 my own doctor and Xiiy own minister, I would stay 
 'lere all the year thi'ough ; but you know your country 
 doctors are not quite^-q^nte — well — well enough in 
 their way, but not quite like the town doctors ; and 
 the ministers are i?ery nice — " This she said in a hesi- 
 tating undertone, not expressive of hearty concurrence, 
 and ended in a firmer voice, " but not like my own." 
 
 "'Deed, mem," said Hillend, "gi'e us farmers a gude 
 miller an' a gude smith, an' we can do weel enough wi* 
 ony ministers or doctors that likes to oome." 
 
 m 
 
"AS YOU LIKE IT» 
 
 123 
 
 "That wasna bad for Hillend," said Bell. 
 
 «WeU, Bell," said Mr. Walker, "I thought it rather 
 hard on the ministers when I first heard the story, 
 but — " And here he gave his views of the Non-Intru- 
 sionists with, for him, unusual fervour, and added, 
 "Now I quite agree with Hillend, that congregations 
 should accept, and welcoiae, and honour the ministers 
 who are appointed over them." 
 
 "That's without a doubt," said Bell; "and esteem 
 them very highly for their work's sake." 
 
 The news of Mr. Walker's appointment to Blink- 
 bonny was received with first a stare, then a shrug of 
 the shoulders, then a pretty general feeling that " they 
 might have had worse." He was certainly not a 
 shining light, but he was a nice man, had a large 
 family, and it would be a good change for them. And 
 although the local poetaster circulated a sorry effusion 
 on the subject, in which he, without acknowledgment, 
 stole from Cowper's Needless Alarm, — 
 
 "A mutton statelier than the rest,"— 
 
 and — 
 
 K 
 
 His loving mate and trae. 
 
 But more discreet than he, a Moorland ewe,"-> 
 
 changing the original "Cambrian" to "Moorland," 
 it did not take, and Blinkbonny on its personal and 
 
124 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 social and "soft" side was ready to "entertain" 
 Mr. Walker. 
 
 He carried the news of his own appointment to the 
 manse, and although it surprised Mr. Barrie at the 
 moment, he heartily wished him every success and 
 comfort, and added that he would find the manse at 
 his service by the time he was inducted. Mr. "Walker 
 assured Mr. Barrie that there was no hurry, as " he 
 did not see that they could possibly come in until 
 after the harvest was past at Middlemoor." 
 
 When Bell heard that Mr. Walker was coming to 
 Blinkbonny, she forgot her usual good manners. " Mr. 
 Walker ! — Walker o' Middlemoor ! — fat AValker 'a 
 gotten the kirk, has he ? He's a slow coach — pity 
 the folk that gargs to hear him ; but 'deed they'll no' 
 mony gang. He minds me o' Cauldwell's speech at 
 the cattle show. After Sir John palavered away 
 about the grand stock, and praised Cauldwell for 
 gettin' sae money prizes, the decent man just said, 
 *Sir John and gentlemen, thank ye a' kindly. I'm 
 nae hand o' makin' a speech. I may be a man 
 among sheep, but I'm a sheep among men.' " And 
 Bell showed how changeable human affections are; 
 for although Mr. Walker and she had been hand-and- 
 glove friends, she summed up with, " Mr. Walker will 
 never fill Mr. Barrie's shoon [shoes]. I never could 
 
yEWS AND BRITHERS, 
 
 "5 
 
 thole ^ him an' his filthy tobacco smoket IJgh! ma 
 puir kitchen will sune be in a bonny mess; an' I 
 dinna ken what to think about the things in the 
 garden an' outhouses that are oura, for, as Mrs. Walker 
 ance said to me, her motto was, ' Count like Jews and 
 'gree like brithers.' " 
 
 But when the settling up came. Bell found Mrs. 
 Walker " easy dealt wi'," — not only satisfied with her 
 valuation, but very complimentary as to the state in 
 which everything was left, and very agreeable — very. 
 
 1 Eaduztb 
 
r 
 
 .•3 
 ■I 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 OUT OF THE OLD HOME AND INTO THIL NEW. 
 
 'Confide ye aye in Providence, for Providence is kind. 
 An' bear ye a' life's changes wi' a calm an' tranquil ind ; 
 Thongh press'd an' henun'd on every side, ha'e foith an' ye*U 
 
 win through, 
 For ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew." 
 
 James BctUanttM. 
 
 TiyrR. BARRIE had written to Sir John M*Lelland, 
 -*""-^ thanking him for his uniform kindness, and 
 saying that he had disjoined himself from the 
 Established Church. He also wrote to the clerk 
 of his presbytery to the same effect, adding that he 
 would leave the manse as soon as he could. 
 
 A short time sufficed to put Knowe Park into 
 habitable order. Whenever this was known, Mr. 
 Barrie was cumbered by proffers of help from the 
 farmers in the parish. He could have had fifty 
 carts to remove his furniture for one that he 
 required ; and acts or offers of considerat/> attention 
 were so showered on him that he was embarrassed 
 by them. 
 
THE MELODY OF JOY AND PEACE, 
 
 137 
 
 *ark into 
 
 )wn, Mr. 
 
 Ifrom the 
 lad fifty 
 that he 
 attention 
 
 Ibarrassed 
 
 At length the day came for " flitting." It was a fine 
 morning in the middle of summer, — everything was 
 looking its best. The manse in itself was a charm- 
 ing place. To Mr. and Mrs. Barrie and their children 
 it had been a happy home, and in their inmost hearts 
 it was hallowed by many tender associations ; and the 
 church was endeared to Mr. Barrie as he recalled the 
 pleasant meetings therein with his beloved flock. 
 The parting was a bitter Cxdeal, trying to flesh and 
 blood, and as such they felt it very keenly. 
 
 At the hour for family worship, the men who were 
 taking down the furniture and making it ready for 
 being carted were asked to oome to the " books ; " and 
 they told afterwards that in singing the 23d Psalm 
 their voices quivered, and that tnere was a lump in 
 their throat as the 138th Psalm was read as the 
 *' ordinary" for the morning, for the circumstances 
 seemed to give additional meaning to such parts of it 
 as — ^" ptrengthenedst me with strength in my soul,'* 
 "though I walk in the midst of trouble. Thou wilt revive 
 me," "the Lord will perfect that which comierneth 
 me," " forsake not the works of Thine own hands." 
 
 As soon as the first cart was laden and ofif. Boll 
 went to Knowe Park to get tlungs put rightly in and 
 up. The three elder children had resolved to flit 
 their own belongings. James took his small barrow, 
 
128 
 
 BITS FROM BLINJCBONNY, 
 
 filled with a confused load of skates, books, etc. 
 Mary carried her little chair, Black Tarn the negro 
 doll, and some books and toys ; Lewie his little chair, 
 a toy horse, and a whip. They had reached the 
 post office (which stood a little back from the main 
 street), and were resting on the broad open pavement 
 in front of it, James sitting on his barrow, the 
 others in their chairs. 
 
 Dr. Guthrie, who had been spending a day or two 
 in the neighbourhood, was calling at the post office. 
 Soon, as his quick eye rested on the singular grou'^, 
 his face became radiant with such a smile as he could 
 give, and which the children returned very frankly. 
 He went close to them, stooped down and patted 
 Mary's cheek, got his hand under her chin and stroked 
 it playfully, all the while looking kindly in her face ; 
 then glancing at her lap, he said : 
 
 " What's the name of that fine doll, my wee pet ? is 
 it Sambo, or Pompey, or what % " 
 
 "That's black Tam," said Mary. "Itwa Nellie's 
 doll, and I'm taking it to our new house." 
 
 " Nellie's, was it ? And is Nellie too old for dolls 
 now, and has she given it to you ? He looks as if he 
 had seen better days." 
 
 " Oh I please, sir, Nellie's dead," said Mary, looking 
 towards the churchyard ; " she's buried over there." 
 
DR. GUTHRIE AND THE BAIRNS. 
 
 129 
 
 " But Bell and mamma say that Nellie's in heaven/' 
 said Lewie very decidedly. 
 
 The suddenness and beauty of Lewie's answer strongly 
 affected Dr. Guthrie. He took out his snuff-box and took 
 a moderate pinch, then clapped Lewie's head, and said : 
 
 " Yes, my wee man, you're right ; Nellie's in heaven. 
 But what's your name ? " 
 
 James now took speech in hand: "My name's 
 James Barrie, and this is Mary, and this is Lewie. 
 We're flitting from the manse over yonder;" and he 
 pointed in the same direction as Mary had looked. 
 But Di. Guthrie, thus suddenly brought into contact 
 with this stern reality of the Disruption, had again to 
 apply to his snuff-box, and was in the act of taking it 
 out of his pocket when Sir John M'Lelland drove up 
 to the post office and alighted. Dr. Guthrie and he 
 knew one another as members of Assembly, and they 
 shook hands cordially. Sir John expressing surprise 
 at seeing the doctor there. 
 
 " Sir John," said the doctor, " excuse nte," — and he 
 dried the tear that was coursing down his cheek, — 
 " do you know these children ? '* 
 
 Sir John had not observed the group, but he looked 
 at them long enough to admit of Dr. Guthrie pulling 
 out his box, taking one good snuflf, and getting another 
 ready for despatch in his fingers. 
 
130 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 I \ 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Sir John, "they are Mr. Barrie's 
 children ; " then looking at James : " How are mamma 
 and papa keeping ? ** 
 
 The children had risen, and the boys had taken 
 off their caps when Sir John appeared. In answer 
 to the question James said: "They're quite well, 
 thank you, sir; we're all going to our new house 
 to-day ; we*re helping to flit." 
 
 Dr. Guthrie took his reserve snuff, looked first at 
 Sir John, then at the children, and swinging his hand 
 80 that it pointed to the children, then to the manse, 
 and resting it now towards them and again towards 
 it, he recited with much feeling, for he seemed deeply 
 moved : 
 
 " From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, 
 This makes her loved at home, revered abroad ; 
 Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, 
 An honest man's the noblest work of God.** 
 
 By this time several of the villagers were attracted 
 by the scene, and they scarcely could repress the 
 cheer that was struggling for vent in their throats. 
 Respect for Sir John, however, kept it down until he 
 drove away, when a right hearty greeting was given 
 to Dr. Guthrie, in whose eyes the tear still trembled, 
 and many pressed forward to grasp his hand, — none 
 more warmly than Kennedy the tailor, who, producing 
 his snuff-box, said: 
 
GIFF'GAFR 
 
 »3« 
 
 Barrie's 
 inaiuTua 
 
 id taken 
 1 answer 
 ite well, 
 jw house 
 
 a first at 
 his hand 
 he manse, 
 n towards 
 led deeply 
 
 ings, 
 * 
 
 attracted 
 
 lepress the 
 
 iir throats. 
 
 [n until he 
 
 [was given 
 
 trembled, 
 Ind, — none 
 
 producing 
 
 " Ye'll excuse me, sir ; I dinna ken ye, but — ^ye'll 
 excuse me, sir — ^bufr would ye do me the honour of 
 takin' a snufif out of my box ? " 
 
 " Certainly, my good friend," said the doctor ; " and 
 we'll giff-gafif," handing his box to the tailor, and 
 helping himself out of Kennedy's dimpled, black- 
 looking, oval-shaped tin box. 
 
 The tailor took a pinch, said it was " prime snufif," 
 and added : ** Burns is a great poet, and that was a 
 grand verse you gied us the noo, and the occasion's 
 worthy o't Mr. Barrie 's an honest man, but he's far 
 mair, he's a patriot-martyr." 
 
 The last cartload had left the manse; there was 
 nothing for Mr. and Mrs. Barrie to do but lock 
 the door and follow. They paid a farewell visit to 
 each room. Their footsteps sounded harshly through 
 the house, now empty and dreary, still they were 
 loath to leave. When they were fairly outside of the 
 front door they lingered on its step ; then Mr. Barrie, 
 with a quick " This will never do," locked the door 
 and withdrew the key. 
 
 They were bracing themselves for their trying walk 
 past the church, past the churchyard, and through 
 the village, when a noise, a familiar noise, yet with 
 an eerie wail in it, made them both start. It came 
 trom old Tibby the cat— Nellie's Tibby. Bell had 
 
132 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 carried her to Knowe Park in a basket as carefully 
 as if she had been Nellie herself, and had shut her 
 up in a room. When the children came, James 
 and Mary had got strict orders to watch her; but 
 Tibby had beaten them all and got off, and home and 
 into some quiet corner of the manse, whence, when 
 the door was locked, she crept out, uttering her wailing 
 protest. 
 
 " Poor Tibby," said Mrs. Barrie, " we must take you 
 with us." 
 
 When the door was re-opened, Tibby was easily 
 caught. She had evidently felt convinced, after a 
 bewildered ramble through the empty house, that 
 thei-e was some reason for her late transportation and 
 imprisonment. 
 
 This little incident re - opened the floodgates of 
 tender memories, and forced tears from Mrs. Barrie's 
 eyes, although by that time the fountain had been 
 largely drawn upon. She felt thankful to have some- 
 thing else than herself to think of; and Tibby's 
 presence in her arm, tucked cosily into the comer of 
 her shawl, served to divide her attention, and supplied 
 sufficient amount of occupation to make the walk less 
 trying to her. She leaned heavily on Mr. Barrie's 
 arm, partly from weariness, pa^ tly from excitement. 
 
 When they reached Knowe Park-, Bell had tea set for 
 
THE NEW HOME, 
 
 133 
 
 refuUy 
 ut her 
 James 
 p; but 
 ne and 
 , when 
 wailing 
 
 ike you 
 
 I easily 
 after a 
 5e, that 
 ion and 
 
 ;ates of 
 Barrie's 
 d been 
 5 some- 
 Tibby's 
 mer of 
 upplied 
 
 k less 
 iBarrie's 
 
 ent. 
 
 set for 
 
 m 
 
 •'I 
 
 them in the parlour ; and the children, having already 
 made a complete round of the whole premises, gave at 
 the tea-table cheering proofs that they had not lost 
 their appetites, as well as curious details of what they 
 had discovered in their ramblings over their new home. 
 
 Bell had got the bedrooms into wonderful order for 
 their accommodation at night, and this deprived kind 
 neighbours of the pleasure they would have had in 
 "putting up" for a few nights all or any of the 
 family. Within a few days they all felt quite at 
 home, and the additional work entailed by making 
 the manse things go as far as they could, kept them 
 so busy that they were surprised at their having got 
 over the flitting, and especially the " leaving " of the 
 manse, so soon and so quietly. 
 
 I did not think it possible that Bell could have 
 wrought harder than I had always known her to do ; 
 but she did, and soon Knowe Park was as much to 
 her, in as far as the garden and live stock were con- 
 cerned, as the old homestead had been. And although 
 Guy the beadle offered to bring out of the manse 
 garden whatever she wished. Bell had enough and to 
 
 use for himself what he liked. 
 
 spare, 
 
 Guy 
 
 and after that only to sell what was ripe or "near 
 spoiling." 
 
 True to his trust, Guy brought her a fair sum of 
 

 »34 
 
 BIT^ FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 money obtained in this way, which she handed to 
 Mr. Barrie, not Mrs. Barrie as usual, telling him how it 
 had come. Mr. Barrie was greatly pleased with Gu]^ 
 and Bell, and thanked them warmly; but to Bell's 
 astonishment he handed her back the money, and 
 said : " Give it to the poor. Bell, and oh ! let us be 
 thankful we have something to give away." 
 
 This was several steps in advance of Bell's notions 
 of what was called for, and she spoke to Mrs. Barrie 
 about it. Mrs. Barrie was well aware that she would 
 need to be very economical, but Mr. Barrie's " thank- 
 ful to have something to give away" was so like 
 himself, and the money had come so unexpectedly, 
 that she said : 
 
 " Certainly, Bell, we'll carry out Mr. Barrie's wishes ; 
 and when something has thus come that we can give, 
 let us be thankful to get the more blessedness, for it 
 is more blessed to give than to receive." 
 
 Bell could not quite go in with this doctrina She 
 thought for a little, and then said hesitatingly : 
 
 " Just so, mem ; but you'll surely no* object to me 
 selling whatever' to spare at Knowe Park, mem, will 
 ye ? I think less o' what comes frae the aujd manse ; 
 an' I'm aye gaun to ca't that, an' this house is to be 
 the' manse. No' the new manse, but <Ae mansA — ih* 
 
 manse. 
 
 >» 
 
 ■ i 
 
BOTH RIGHT. 
 
 135 
 
 ded to 
 how it 
 ;li Guy 
 > BeU'B 
 jy, and 
 \, us be 
 
 notions 
 J. Barrie 
 e would 
 "thank- 
 so like 
 pectedly, 
 
 wishes ; 
 \an give, 
 
 |ss, for it 
 
 She 
 
 It to me 
 |eni, will 
 manse ; 
 lis to be 
 
 " Do as you have always done, Bell ; no directions 
 I could give would serve you so well as your own 
 good sense. And I have been so unsettled by the 
 events of the past two months that I hardly know my 
 own mind ; but one thing I do know, and feel — " 
 here Mrs. Barrie's eyes filled, and she finished the 
 sentence with a trembling voice, " and that is, that 
 you have been a sister and a mother to us all, — a 
 Deborah and a Ruth, a Martha and a Dorcas put 
 together. May God reward you." 
 
 This was nearly too much for Bell, but the necessity 
 of getting on and getting through was pressing her 
 atrongly. She accordingly braced herself up, and said 
 in a cheerful tone : 
 
 " Mrs. Barrie, I've gotten ower a* my fears an' cares 
 o* a worldly kind about this kirk business, an' I'm 
 humbled to think that I spoke to you an' the minister 
 an' ithers as I did, an' that I didna join the noble 
 army till after the battle was won ; but noo," said she 
 with great solemnity, " I pray that I may mak' up for 
 my faintin' in the day o' adversity by settin' my face 
 like a flint to my wark," and here she lowered her 
 tone. " But I'm forgettin' mysel', an' we maun a' set 
 the stout heart to the stey [steep] brae, aii' gather up 
 the loins o' our minds and heads and hands, and no' 
 turn back like Lot's wife. We're gaun to dae fine 
 
-36 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 here : the range is very licht on the coals ; an' the 
 hens are takin* - to the place, an' layin' weel ; an' 
 Daisy's up to her knees in clover," and here Bell 
 put on her blithest look, "an* I never saw either 
 Mr. Barrie or you lookin' better. And we maunna let 
 it be said that we're ' unsettled,* when in every sense 
 o' the word we're settled, and weel settled, — we 
 couldna be better, — we're just real weel set." 
 
 Bell's hearty speech put Mrs. Banie into good 
 spirita She left the kitchen with a smile on her 
 lip and a warm thought in her heart, which found 
 expression as she walked through the lobby in " Thank 
 God for Bell ! *' 
 
 Bell was contentedly happy because she was con- 
 stantly busy, and her schemes prospered. From the 
 day Mr. Barrie had hinted at the possibility of their 
 leaving the manse, she set herself to contrive if by 
 any means she could be more than ever one of the 
 bread-winners, and her first attempt was on the hens. 
 Some one had told her about the increased yield of 
 eggs which Sir John's henwife had got by some 
 changes she had made in the food and treatment of 
 her poultry. Bell adopted the new system, and im- 
 proved on it. She succeeded far beyond her expecta- 
 tions, and with a happy face told me of he? luck one 
 afternoon when she was ordering some peppercorns 
 
SCIENCE AND POULTRY, 
 
 137 
 
 and other spices, with which to experiment still fur- 
 ther on a notion of her own. 
 
 " I've been trying different plans wi* my hens. I 
 first gied them drr grain, and they did but middlin' ; 
 then I gied them rough meal, an' they did better; 
 syne I boiled their meat, an' put a * cum * * o' spice 
 in't, an* they did splendid — far mair than paid for the 
 extra meat; then I got a cracknel frae the candle- 
 maker (ane o* yon dark, cheese-lookin* things that 
 they make out o" the rinds 0' fat, an' skins, an' sic 
 like that comes out 0' their tallow), and boiled a bit o' 
 it among their metat, and the result was extraordinary; 
 they just laid oiii an' on till they actually reduced 
 themselves to fair skeletons. I was fair affronted to 
 see them about tliie place, an' I had to gi'e them a rest 
 an' change their victuals. Nov) I try to mix their 
 meat so as to get them baith to lay weel an' to be size 
 for the table. But ye'U hae seen what grand eggs I've 
 been sending to yoursel', an' how mony mair than 
 before?" 
 
 I knew that to be the case, and said so. Bell con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " But besides that, early in the spring I got some 
 settings o' eggs that they say are a grand kind, and 
 the birds are a gude size a'ready. I got them from 
 
 ^ A Kuiall (juuntity. 
 
138 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 Dan Corbet, an' so I wadna like to say very muckle 
 about them, for Dan's no' aye to lippen* to. 'Deed, 
 since we've come to live nearer him, I'm no sae high 
 about them, for he has a vermin o' game-cocks about 
 him, and they whiles cross the north park and fecht 
 wi' mine — they're a fair torment." 
 
 Dan Corbet was a "queer mixture." He was a 
 native of Blinkbonny,,but had been out of the parish 
 for several years ; report said he had been a smuggler 
 on the west coast of Scotland. He returned to his 
 native parish about the year 1820, with scars on his 
 face, and without one of his eyes, which gave him a 
 sinister look. For some years he had been night- 
 watchman in the churchyard, as t^^.e outrageous custom 
 of violating the sanctity of the grave in order to pro- 
 cure subjects for surgical demonstration and actual use 
 in teaching anatomy had sent a thrill of horror over 
 Scotland, and had led to the systematic watching of 
 churchyards by at least two individuals every night. 
 Dan was the paid regular watchman, and at least one 
 or more respectable householders by turns watched 
 with him. Dan's reckless character fitted him for the 
 dreary post ; and although none of those who watched 
 with him respected him, they found that he was always 
 wakeful, and, in the matter in hand, trustworthy. 
 
 ^ Trust 
 
THE DUMMIE DOCTOR. 
 
 139 
 
 cnuckle 
 
 'Deed, 
 
 le high 
 
 about 
 
 1 fecht 
 
 was a 
 
 parish 
 
 QUggler 
 
 to his 
 
 on his 
 
 him a 
 
 night- 
 
 icustom 
 
 to pro- 
 
 al use 
 
 over 
 
 mg of 
 
 night. 
 
 st one 
 
 itched 
 
 91 the 
 
 tched 
 
 ways 
 
 m 
 
 i 
 
 When the night watching was given up, Dan main- 
 tained himself by doing on a larger scale the odd sorts 
 of jobs which he had sometimes taken in hand in order 
 to add to his salary as watchman, or "dummie doctor," 
 as he was called. My older readers will remember 
 with what feelings of indignation the resurrectionists 
 or dummie doctors (for these were the names given to 
 the violators of the graves) were spoken of, and that 
 after their disappearance the odious name, " dummie 
 doctor,** sometimes stuck to the watchmaa 
 
 Dan acted amongst the surrounding farmers as 
 butcher, mole-catcher, rat-catcher, and, in a rough 
 way, as a veterinary surgeon ; was employed as extra 
 hand at sheep-shearings, corn-threshings, etc. He was 
 a regular fittender of local cattle markets, fail's, races, 
 and games ; a good and keen fisher, and strongly sus- 
 pected of being a poacher, but never convicted. He 
 was a wiry, spare, athletic man of about 5 feet 11 
 inches high, with a weatherbeaten countenance, thin 
 grizzled hair, and a long stride. He lived in a cottage, 
 divided by a single park-breadth from Knowe Park, 
 and kept a perfect menagerie of dogs, ferrets, goats, and 
 fowls — the latter being principally game sorts. His 
 favourite pastime was cock-fighting; but it was, to 
 Dan's great regret, being discountenanced and put 
 down. He had a variety of surnames ; " the Corbie,' 
 
 j^w 
 
140 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 
 \ 
 
 as a contractiou of his own name, was the most common, 
 but he was known as the "Mowdie" (mole), the "Eat," 
 the "Doctor," the "Vet.," and "Ggemmie," as weU as 
 the " Dummie Doctor " or " Dummie." 
 
 The eggs he had given to Bell were not from his 
 stock, but had leen got in exchange for some of these ; 
 and as he had sometimes been employed by Bell as a 
 butcher, there was a trade connection between them, 
 but the intimacy had been purely "professional," as 
 Dan, in the matter of social position or religion, was 
 looked on as quite an outcast ; and the description of 
 him, in this respect, ranged from " a poor creature " to 
 " ah awfu' maa" 
 
 Dan had got a setting of eggs from a very rare strain 
 of game fowls, and had been loud in laying off tLsir 
 properties to his cronies, some of whom, on the night 
 that Dan " set " ttiom, took them carefully from under 
 the hen and put ducks* eggs in their place ; they then 
 crossed the field, got over Knowe Park wall, and put 
 Dan's eggs under one of Bell's "dockers,"^ using every 
 precaution not to injure the eggs, as well as to avoid 
 detection. 
 
 Dan waited long and wearily for his expected brood ; 
 he looked for them on the reckoned day, but it passed, 
 and the next, and the next, until *a full week had 
 
 ^ Clucking hens. 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 WMkMl 
 
HIDDEN TREASURES, 
 
 I4« 
 
 elapsed, and still no birds. Early on the eighth 
 morning he determined to " pitch " the eggs away, and 
 was angrily stooping down to lift off the hen, which, 
 although it was a great ftvourite and a "splendid 
 sitter," would have had a rough toss and a long one, 
 when he heard a cheep. 
 
 The welcome sound was marrow to his bones. "Eh!" 
 was his first exclamation ; " what's that ? is't possible 
 after a* ? " He heard more cheeping. " Isn't it a gude 
 thing I've been sae patient ?" Then looking at the hen, 
 wliich, but a minute befort, he was preparing to use 
 very roughly, he said, " Eh, grannie, grannie, ye're the 
 best docker in the county ; eh, my auld darlin*, 
 my queen o* beauty, ye'U no' want your handfu' o' 
 groats for this — I'll gi'e ye a peck ; jist anither day, 
 gn inie, an* ye'll get oot wi* yer darlin's, ye ace o* 
 diements !** 
 
 The cheeping had now become very decided, and 
 Dan, again addressing grannie, said : " Sit on, my flower 
 o' the flock, my fail-me-never, hap* the giant-killer* 
 wi' yer bonnie, golden, cosy feathers just till the nicht, 
 till their wee jackets an* glancin* spurs are dry ; an' 
 I'll bring a' the neebors about seven o'clock when they 
 come hame, r.nd I'll open the door, an' ye'll march out 
 like Wallington at the head o* the Scotch Greys at 
 
 * Cover carefully. 
 
 *»•• 
 
 1 
 
142 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 Waterloo; and will they no* stare when they see 
 your sturdy family following ye like the Eoyal 
 Artillery ? " 
 
 He then locked the door, and " warned " his cronies 
 and neighbours to come "sharp seven," and they would 
 see something really worth their while. 
 
 Dan was in the fidgets all afternoon. Shortly before 
 seven o'clock a small crowd had gathered in his garden, 
 to which Dan told the pedigree of the birds, and spoke 
 of their qualities iA 4iHe most glowing terms. 
 
 " Let's see them, Dan," said several voices ; " let's 
 see them." 
 
 " I'm waiting for Watty," said Dan ; and turning to 
 a boy, said, "Gang to the house-end, ma man, an' see if 
 he's no* comin*;" then addressing his visitors, he said, 
 " Watty's the only man that I'm feared for in this dis- 
 trict ; his birds hae beaten mine owre often ; I'll tether 
 him noo, or Tm cheated." 
 
 As Dan finished this speech, Watty, a queer-looking 
 customer wearing a hairy skull-cap, smoking a short 
 black pipe, and with both hands in his pockets, joined 
 the gathering. He gave a side nod to Dan, and said 
 "Hoo's a' ?" to the company. 
 
 " Noo for the show ! " said Dan, a& he unlocked the 
 hen-house (it was coal-house, goat-house, and served 
 various other purposes), and flung the door v/ide open, 
 
"'"•'SftB 
 
 *TW1XT THE CUP AND THE LIP. 
 
 M3 
 
 ley see 
 Koyal 
 
 cronies 
 r would 
 
 Y before 
 garden, 
 d spoke 
 
 ; "let's 
 
 ming to 
 
 ^n' see if 
 
 he said, 
 
 his dis- 
 
 tether 
 
 [looking 
 
 short 
 
 joined 
 
 id said 
 
 ied the 
 
 served 
 
 open, 
 
 saying, " Come awa*, grannie, wi* your * royal family/ 
 There's a pictur', men, for ye." 
 
 Grannie's family had been restless, because hungry 
 and particularly thirsty, and she and they obeyed 
 Dan's summons with great readiness and even haste. 
 
 Watty, who had till then smoked on in silence, 
 quickly took the pipe out of his mouth, stooped a 
 little, shaded his eyes with one hand, and seemed 
 sadly puzzled. His first remark was ; 
 
 " Man, Dan, they've awfu' braid Jiebs " (broad bills). 
 
 "Braid nebs, or no' braid nebs, said Dan, "the 
 game's there onyway." 
 
 " May be," said Watty, " but they have maist awfu* 
 braid nebs," for by this time he and all the onlookers 
 had "smelt a rat;" " and in ^^a opinion they're jucks." 
 
 * Ye're a juck ! " said Dan, lookiag at him fiercely. 
 
 "Dinua Jook at me, Dan, look at them; look at their 
 nebs, look at their wab-feet — is thae nojucks ? " 
 
 A second glance revealed to Dan that this was too true. 
 
 Roars of laughter, which only such an audience can 
 give, ensued, in which "Braid nebs," "Gemm jucks," 
 " Grannie's royal family," " Tether Watty," wore heard 
 amidst the noisy peals of the uncontrolled and appar- 
 ently uncontrollable merriment 
 
 Dan looked unutterable things ; his face was one of 
 dismal agony. He took side glances at the crowd; 
 
144 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 I 
 
 each followed by a long look — a perplexed, "vindictive 
 look — at the ducklings ; whilst all the while the crowd 
 waxed merrier, and laughed louder as they saw his 
 miserable, heartbroken countenance. 
 
 Watty stooped down to lift a duckling, saying at 
 the same time, " Man, Dan, have ye lost your sicht ? 
 Div ye no* see that thae's jucks ? Look at their nebs, 
 their feet, their size ; hear their weet-weet ; " but 
 "Grannie" barre :k<j pass, flew at his hand, and pecked 
 it sharply. This ivi /» d the sorely afflicted Dan, and 
 rousing himself, he said, ' Vfeel dune, grannie !" which 
 the crowd received with a cheer and a very loud laugh. 
 
 One of the onlookers, wishing to soothe Dan, said . 
 " Jucks are as gude as hens ony day, Dan ; an' they're 
 healthy-like birds." 
 
 " You ignorant gomeral ! * you senseless blockhead ! 
 you bom idiot !" said Dan, his excitement increasing as 
 he proceeded; "jucks like game-cocks! jucks like the 
 kind o* game-cocks that should ha* been there, that 
 were set by my ain hands ! baud yer bletherin* ^ 
 
 tongue. Somebody's been puggyin* me. If I kent 
 
 wha dared to tak' their nap * afif me, I wad gi'e them 
 
 what they wad mind a' their days ; I would fdl them!" 
 
 A large crowd had now collected in Dan's garden. 
 
 * Stupid fellow. 
 
 ' Playing monkey tricks* 
 
 ' Foolish talking, 
 < Fun. 
 
LET SLEEPING DOGS LIB. 
 
 «45 
 
 lictive 
 crowO 
 iw his 
 
 ring at 
 
 sicht ? 
 ir nebs, 
 ;" but 
 
 pecked 
 )an, and 
 1" which 
 id laugh. 
 Ian, said . 
 
 I they're 
 
 tockhead \ 
 peasing as 
 like the 
 lere, that 
 [letherin' '^ 
 [f I kent 
 Igi'e them 
 Al them!" 
 rs garden, 
 
 and when the new-comers heard the canse of the 
 merriment, they joined in it and kept it up. 
 
 ** What are ye a' doin* laughin* there at, like 
 heeawnies [hyenas] ? Out o' this, e^ ary one o* ye, 
 or I'll gar some o* ye laugh on the ither side o* yer 
 lug [ear] !** said Dan, looking daggers. 
 
 " Lock them up, Ban, for fear the witches change 
 them into turkeys/' said one of the crowd. 
 
 This' made Dan furious: he seized an old spade 
 which lay on the top of his hen-house, and vowed 
 that he " would /eW ony man that said anothc** 3rd." 
 
 " If ye can catch him," said a waif, witL a know- 
 ing wink ; and he made off as fast as he coul:^. 
 
 " If I can what ? " said Dan. " I belie' ?i you're the 
 vagabond that's puggied me, and I'll catch ye, supple 
 an' a' as ye think ye are ! " 
 
 Dan started, holding the spade over his head, fury 
 in his eye, vengeance in his heart The crowd saw 
 that his blood was up, and cried, " Run, run, run for 
 your very life 1 " 
 
 The man got into the field that lay between Dan's 
 cottage and Knowe Park ; Dan followed, as did also 
 many of the crowd. The pursued man, repenting of his 
 rashness, and fearing the worst, as well he might, 
 made straight for Knowe Park wall 
 
 Bell had heard the laughter when milking Dak»y ; 
 
 ««•! 
 ^ 
 
 '^'- 
 
146 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 I 
 
 I t 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Barrie had hear(| it when taking an 
 evening stroll in the garden, and all three were 
 standing at the wall wondering what could cause it, 
 as the laughter was unusually boisterous. They saw 
 the chase begin. The flying man observed Mr. Barrie, 
 and made toward him as to a city of refuge. When 
 Mr. Barrie saw Dan rushing on, so dangerously armed 
 and so furious, he cried loudly, " Stop, Corbett I stop I 
 I command you." 
 
 This made Dan slacken his pace and lower his 
 spade, but he walked sulkily on with the crowd, 
 saying, " I'm no* dune wi* him yet. I'll gi'e him't for 
 this yet — ^Wait a wee, just wait a wee," until they 
 came to the wall of the garden. 
 
 " Whatever is all this about ? " said Mr. Barria 
 " What's wrong, Corbett, that you are so furious ? " 
 
 " A's wrang, sir, a's wrang. I've been rubbit p.«. 
 robbed], an' insulted, an' chagareened by that — " It took 
 Dan a little time to select an epithet strong enough for 
 the occasion, and at the same time fit for the minister's 
 ears. This was a difficult matter ; many rushed to his 
 tongue-end, strong, withering, seasoned ; undoubtedly, 
 had it not been for Mr. Barrie, he would have fired 
 them off in a volley, and greatly relieved himself 
 thereby. At length he hurled out, " that unhanged 
 vagabond, he's puggied me, but — " 
 
 
PROBING THE WOUND, 
 
 147 
 
 aking an 
 ree were 
 t cause it, 
 They saw 
 ^r. Barrie, 
 re. When 
 asly armed 
 jetti stop I 
 
 lower his 
 the crowd, 
 i»e him't for 
 ' until they 
 
 Mr. Barrie. 
 irious f 
 
 rubbit [i.«. 
 lat— " It took 
 ig enough for 
 bhe minister's 
 Irushed to his 
 undoubtedly, 
 lid have fired 
 leved himself 
 lat unhanged 
 
 \*'i. 
 fe 
 
 \% 
 
 
 Mr. Barrie looked at Dan, and said, " Stop, Corbett, 
 say no more till your passion cools ; " then turning to 
 the crowd he said, " What is the cause of this un- 
 seemly uproar ? " 
 
 Watty and several others began to explain the 
 affair, but every one that attempted it had to stop 
 after saying a word or two ; even the offending man^ 
 although now quite safe, was unable to get beyond 
 " Dan set hens* eggs " for laughing, and every man in 
 the field was writhing in fits and contortions, through 
 excessive laughter, with the exception of Dan, on 
 whom the laughter was telling like oil on a flame. 
 
 Mr. Barrie looked at Dan, and seeing that he was 
 becoming even more ferocious, said calmly : " Corbett, 
 from the behaviour of the crowd I suspect they have 
 been playing some trick on you, and they evidently 
 have succeeded to their entire satisfaction, but to your 
 great annoyance. Please tell me really what has ex- 
 cited you." 
 
 Dan told his story. The laughter was quite as general, 
 but became more distant as he proceeded, for whilst 
 telling his tale he scowled on the " grinning baboons," 
 as he called them, and clutched his spade angrily, 
 which still further widened the circle. Although Mr. 
 Barrie remained grave, Mrs. Barrie could not but 
 laugh quietly, and Bell, sheltered by an evergreen 
 

 
 C48 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 shrab, did so heartily, repeating, " Well, I never I" All 
 at once she stopped, thought a little, then saying to 
 herself, ** That explains it," she came close to the wall 
 at the point where Dan stood, and said : '' There's a 
 brood o* chickens, lang-leggit, sharp-nebbit things, 
 come to me that I never set ; they're maybe yours, 
 they're no ours — they're come-o'- wills." 
 
 " What ! " said Dan ; " whan did they come out ? " 
 
 " This day week exactly." 
 
 " Let's see them. Come in, Watty, an' gie's your 
 skill 0' them," said Dan, with a happier but still 
 nervous face; then addressing himself to Bell, he 
 said : " Hoo mony came oot ? " 
 
 " Eleven out o* thirteen ; there were twa eggs did 
 naething." 
 
 " That's very gude ; that's grand ! " said Dan, who 
 was already climbing the wall to get in. 
 
 " Had ye no' better wait till the morn's mornin' ? " 
 said the 'considerate BelL "They're a' shut up for 
 the nicht, an' cosy under their mother's wing; ye'U 
 disturb them, puir things." 
 
 " I maun see them the nicht ; I'll no* live if I dinna 
 see them the noo, but I'll be real canny wi' them. 
 Come on." 
 
 Dan, Watty, and Bell went to the " cavie " or hen- 
 coop, folded back the old bag which had been dropt 
 
 I ,:^?; 
 
BETTER LCED YE CANNA BE. 
 
 M9 
 
 BTl" AU 
 
 saying to 
 the wall 
 '* There's a 
 )it thiuga, 
 lybe yours, 
 
 >ine out 1 " 
 
 gie's your 
 jr but still 
 to Bell, he 
 
 iwa eggs did 
 
 tid Dan, who 
 
 [3 morninT* 
 shut up for 
 wing; ye'll 
 
 Ive if I dinna 
 ly wi' them. 
 
 ivie" or hen- 
 been dropt 
 
 over the front of it to keep the inmates warm, and 
 Dan saw to his intense delight two little heads peep- 
 ing from under their feathery covering. His educated 
 although single eye at once settled the kind : " Game, 
 game, every inch o' them, and baith cocks ! " Then 
 turning to his crony he said : " Watty, you'll lift the 
 hen canny, canny, an' I'll tak' stock." 
 
 The result was " six cocks an' five hens, the real 
 true-blue breed," declared by Dan, and confirmed by 
 Watty, with the addition of, " Dan, ye're rich noo." 
 
 Bell would not hear of them being shifted thai; 
 night, and ultimately persuaded Dan to " leave them 
 wi' her hen till they were pickin' for themselves ; she 
 would take care o' them, an' nae cats «.ould get near 
 them, for she had just gotten new nets." 
 
 Dan got Bell to take the ducks, — " he couldn't bear 
 them ; there was nae water for them ; his fowls wad 
 'dab them till there was no' ane left; it wad be a 
 [great obleegement to him." 
 
 When Dan got home he could not rest ; he smartly 
 )k down his fishing-rod and strode to the water- 
 jide. The evening air cooled him, and he was further 
 loonsoled by a good take. Under the " bass " (straw 
 loor-mat' at Knowe Park kitchen door next morning, 
 3II found a ten-pound salmon and three good laige 
 mts — possibly they had not passed the water-bailiflG^ 
 
Ui • 
 
 
 150 
 
 \B/TS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 Bell looked at all sides of the question of " what 
 to do with them ? " Many difficulties presented them- 
 selves to her honest, correct mind, and as the greatest 
 of these was, " What else could she do with them ? " 
 she took in the foundlings and used them well. 
 
 There was a little coming and going between Bell 
 and Dan, until the chickens were able to shift for 
 themselves. When that was the case, he carried them 
 carefully over to his own house, and shared it with 
 them for a few months. The ducklings throve with 
 Bell, and she repaid Dan for them and the fisn (for 
 she found out that her guess as to its having come 
 from Dan was correct) in several ways, but principally 
 by occasional dozens of her " buttered " eggs. When 
 eggs were abundant, and therefore cheap, she preserved 
 a large quantity by rubbing them when newly laid 
 with a very little butter all over, and keepi g them in 
 salt. It was generally thought that she had some special 
 receipt or " secret," for her buttered eggs had a fresh, 
 curdy, rich flavour that few preservers could attain to. 
 
 A penurious old maid had complained to Bell that 
 *' she did not understand her hens , she was quite pro- 
 voked at them, because in the summer-time, when 
 eggs were only sixpence the dozen, they laid lots, but 
 in uhe winter-time, when they were more than double 
 that price, they would not lay at all" 
 
 ^ 
 
of " what 
 nted them- 
 ,he greatest 
 tb them ? " 
 ivell. 
 
 etween Bell 
 to shift for 
 jarried them 
 [ired it with 
 throve with 
 the fisn (for 
 having come 
 it principally 
 Bggs. When 
 jhe preserved 
 n newly laid 
 jpi g them in. 
 I some special 
 J had a fresh, 
 uld attain to. 
 i to Bell that 
 ;va8 quite pro- 
 ir-time, when 
 laid lots, but 
 •e than double 
 
 
 CATCHING A TARTAR. 
 
 IS» 
 
 Bell's reply was : " I dai-esay no* ; but 'deed, mem, 
 yell need to baith feed them better, an' keep them 
 cleaner and cosier, or they'll do but little for you." 
 
 The nicknames by which Dan had formerly been 
 distinguished were, after the affair of the ducklings, 
 dropt entirely out of use, and he was thereafter spoken 
 of as " Braidnebs," although none could use it in his 
 hearing with impunity. 
 
 Thomas Scott, the farmer of Babbie's Mill, a forward 
 ill-bred man, was speaking in the market to Mr. 
 Taylor, the elder alieady referred to in these " Bita' 
 Dan chanced to pass near them, and the miller said, 
 loud enough for him and the most of the folks about 
 the cross to hear him, ** Braidnebs or no' braidnebs, the 
 game's there onyway." 
 
 Dan scowled at the miller, and tried to suppress 
 his rage. In his own words, " I tried to stcek * my 
 mouth, but there was a rattlin' in my throat like to 
 choke me. I lookit at Mr. Taylor. He kent,' 'deed 
 a'body kent, that the miller's wife was a yammerin' * 
 petted cat, an' I said, * Maister Taylor, there's a big 
 bubblyjock* gangs about Babbie's Mill yonder, but 
 he's dabbit* to death wi' a hen.'" 
 
 I'oor " Babbie's Mill " was well known to be ** hen- 
 
 » Shut. 
 
 • Torkey-oook. 
 
 " Knew. 
 • Pecked. 
 
 Grumbling. 
 
I 
 
 »5a 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 pecked" at home, and the laugh was so cleverly, so 
 deservedly, so daringly turned against him, that he 
 was nonplussed for a little ; but he screwed up his 
 courflge, and tried to look disdainfully at Dan. Dan's 
 single eye was glaring at him, and the blank socket 
 of his other eye was twitching nervously. The miller 
 looked bold, and said : " Go about your business, ;• 3 
 ill-tongued scoundrel ! ** 
 
 " Ye what ? " shrieked Dan, going close up to the 
 miller, who stept back and tried to move off ; but Dan 
 followed him closely, and poured out, in a voice com- 
 pounded of bawling, howling, and hissing, wliilst all 
 the while his arm moved quickly up and down: 
 " What did ye say ? — ill-tongued ? Wha has as ill a 
 tongue as yoursel', if it be na your wife ? Ye'U daur 
 to insult a man in the middle o* the street that wasna 
 meddlin* wi* you, an' then speak o* him being 111- 
 tougusd ! Gae hame to Babbie's Mill an ' clapper ' 
 there like yer auld mill, an' tak' double * mouters ' * 
 out 0* ither folk's sacks io fill yer ain. Ye're no' mealy- 
 mooed [mouthed] though ye're a miller; dicht the 
 stour aff your ain tongue before ye try to mend ither 
 folks. You should be the last man to ca' onybody a 
 scoundrel ; them that meets ye in the market wad 
 think butter wadna melt in yer mouth, but let them 
 
 ' A miller's perquisites takeu in meal. 
 
 r 
 
 
/^erly, so 
 that he 
 i up his 
 Dan's 
 k socket 
 le miller 
 iness, 33 
 
 ip to the 
 but Dan 
 oice com- 
 diilst all 
 d down : 
 IS as ill a 
 ^e'll daur 
 lat waana 
 3eing ill- 
 clapper ' 
 neuters ' * 
 10' mealy- 
 dicht the 
 end ither 
 )nybody a 
 jket wad 
 let them 
 
 
 ? 
 
 ^ 
 
 i 
 
 M 
 
 < 
 PQ 
 
nUAT'S IN A NAME? 
 
 153 
 
 yang to Babbie*? Mill un' they'll find ye can chew gey 
 hr.id beans. What d'ye think o' that, Babbie ? Wha 
 has the sharpest neb iiuo ? "Wh&re's the game liow i 
 I think I've broken youi spurs ar' toozled^ yer feathers. 
 Gang hame an' cower in the corner an' get dabbit, 
 Babbie Ye're weel ca'd Babbie — ye're just a big 
 babbie — 'at are ye ; an' if ye never kent tliat afore, ye 
 ken noo, onyway." 
 
 Thomas Scott, the miller of Babbie's Mill, slunk off 
 a sulky, crestfallen man. From that day he was nick- 
 named " the dabbit turkey," and turkeys became known 
 in the district as " babbies," — not a little to the con- 
 fusion of those who did not know the above incident, 
 for it was not uncommon to hear about " a slice of a 
 good fat babbie;" that Mrs. Graham had killed twenty 
 babbies and sent them in to Edinburgh for Christmas ; 
 and, what was perhaps more puzzling still, that Mrs. 
 Clark " had gotten seven babbies killed by rats in one 
 night, but it didna pit her very sair about, for she had 
 as mony left as she cared for." 
 
 I will have occasion to fill in some of the " lights " 
 of Dan's character before I finish these " Bits " mean- 
 time I must leave him in shadow, and proceed in the 
 next chapter to a widely different subject, 
 
 ' Hufflel 
 
! 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 BUNKBONNT FREE CHURCH. 
 
 "Brought freely their ofTerings, and with one accord 
 Sung, Glory and praise and worship to God ! 
 Loud rang the exultation. 'Twas the voice 
 Of a free people." 
 
 William Sothebv. 
 
 rr^HE formation and early history of the Free 
 -■- Church congregation of Blinkbonny is the 
 subject of the following chapter ; and I feel it to be 
 one of special difficulty, not from any scarcity of 
 interesting matter, but from the fear that my treat- 
 ment of if may unhappily be misconstrued as an 
 indirect attempt to promote sectarian interests. 
 
 Nothing is farther from my intention than to make 
 the Establisluit? Church compare unfavourably with 
 the Free Church. My desire is to present to my 
 readers a sketch of some of the things that occurred, 
 and of ^ome of the persons that were engaged about 
 them, 111 a« lUr as my memory will enable me to 
 recall iiiese. ioi is a partisan, but as an annalist. I 
 disclaim r^ny huoh ambitious design as to attempt 
 
 VA 
 
 $,. 
 
DETERMINED, DARED, AND DONE. 
 
 155 
 
 to embody in the " Bits " a description of what 
 might be taken as a fairly representative Free Church 
 minister and congregation of the Disruption times; 
 and when I have to refer to matters relating to the 
 churches as a whole, I will try to confine myself 
 to what will tend to account for or explain the 
 • proceedings of the Free Church of Blinkbonny, with- 
 out stirring up old questions, or unduly favouring 
 any side. 
 
 It is not too much to say that the Disruption of 
 1843 was a great event, especially so for Scotland. 
 The day on which it took place, the 18th of May 
 1843, is a day to be remembered, as during its course 
 a noble spectacle of adherence to principle at great 
 personal sacrifice was witnessed, of which any nation 
 might justly feel proud. Nor were there awanting 
 expressions of admiration; for even those who took 
 the opposite side, and considered the Disruption as 
 unnecessary and unwise, recognised it aa a grand 
 exliibition of Christian courage. 
 
 ** All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry, 
 And even the ranks of Tuscany 
 Could scarce forbear to cheer. " 
 
 Hundreds of highly educated men, — men of large 
 experience and sound judgment, many of whom had 
 near and dear ones entirely dependent on them, and 
 
156 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 i 
 
 most of them with no means of providing for their 
 households or themselves excepting their incomes aa 
 clergymen, — men of like passions and wants, ar.d weak- 
 nesses and necessities, as are common to all mankind, 
 left the Church of their fathers, the Church of their 
 life-work, the Church that they loved and had tried 
 to protect and beautify, because they considered that 
 to be their duty to their divine Master. The result 
 has happily shown that in Scotland, and in various 
 pa*ts of the world, tens of thousands both of men 
 and women could not only applaud such heroism as 
 a grand sentiment, but that they could and did rally 
 round the heroes, espouse their cause, and provide 
 abundantly and with alacrity the means not only for 
 the supply of their temporal wants, but also for 
 pushing forward the cause they had at heart. Nor 
 was personal effort awanting; for the Disruption 
 leaders and ministers were themselves surprised as 
 well as il -flighted by the zeal, energy, and devotion 
 with which persons of all ranks became fellow-workers 
 with them in building up the Free Church of Scot- 
 land. 
 
 The present generation knows but little of the 
 occasional but determined opposition that many land- 
 owners displayed, particularly in the refusal of sites 
 for Free churches, expecting and even resolving that 
 
 '■t- 
 
THE HIGH PLACES OF THE FIELD. 
 
 tS7 
 
 they would thereby starve the people out, and bring 
 them back to the Established Church. 
 
 I cannot and should not do more than refer to 
 the great hardships and privations to which ministers 
 and congregations were exposed, not only by the 
 refusal of sites for churches, but by petty tyrannies 
 exercised on them and on those who befriended, even 
 on those who only pitied, these humble worshippers 
 among the fir woods of Strathspey, on the stormy head- 
 lands of Mull or Skye, or on the bleak shores and 
 barren moors of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland. 
 
 Even in the Lowlands, among the pastoral solitudes 
 of Canonbie, or the gusty winds of Wanlockhead, said 
 to be the highest inhabited place in Scotland, sites 
 were not only refused, but our common humanity was 
 outraged by wanton and sustained interference with 
 such little protection as a thin tent, an old barn, 
 or even an old quarry might afford ; and this not 
 only in the year of the Disruption, but for years 
 tliereafter, until it was made the subject of parlia- 
 mentary inriuiry. 
 
 To those to whom these facts are new, I would 
 recommend the perusal of the Annals of the Disruption 
 Part IIL, recently issued by authority of the Free 
 Ch-arch of Scotland. Besides giving many interest- 
 ing facts of the trials and privations I have referred 
 
T 
 
 t 
 
 158 
 
 BITS FROM BUNKBONNY. 
 
 to, this book tells that, owing to not being able to 
 procure a site, the expedient was resorted to of a floating 
 manse — the "Betsy," an old boat of 12 tons burden, 
 which, although very unfit to stand the storms of 
 the Atlantic, was used by the Rev. Mr. Swanson as 
 he passed from one stormy shore to another amongst 
 the Highlands and islands of Scotland, and has been 
 immortalized by Hugh Miller in his interesting book, 
 ThAi Cruise of the "Betsy.'* 
 
 I had written the greater part of these " Bits," and 
 was askiiig a friend for information on a kindred 
 subject, when he drew my attention to the Annals ; and 
 since I have perused the book, I add my humble 
 testimony to the admirable manner in which it pre- 
 sents the interesting and well-told talcs of those 
 recent Scottish worthies. 
 
 The story of the determined adherence of these 
 suffering witnesses to their conscientious convictions 
 in the face of ill-treatment and persecution, reached 
 Blinkbonny, and it awakened not only a burst of 
 indignation towards those who did the wrong, but it 
 provoked a feeling which manifested itself in sub- 
 stantial help, as well as sympathetic admiration to- 
 wards those who suffered the wrong; and to this 
 cause, coupled with the high esteem in which Mr. 
 Barrie was held, quite as much as to an intelligent 
 
 I 
 
 %: 
 
ONE TOUCH OFNATURE. 
 
 159 
 
 adherence to any well-thought-out theory of church 
 government, may be attributed the strong hold that 
 the Free Church took of Blinkbonny. 
 
 The touch of tyranny laid on those distant members 
 of the " body, the Church," travelled like an electric 
 current, and proved in tlie case of those members 
 more happily situated to be the touch of nature, in 
 making them feel more and more " kin " to " the 
 bound as bound with them ; " and the result was 
 that they stood by them, and by the principles they 
 contended for, so firmly, that those through whom the 
 offence came ceased their violent dealings, and found 
 that the wave of truth, and principle, and progress 
 
 ** lioUoJ not back when Canute gave command." 
 
 Only those who know Scotch village life well 
 could believe how much of its variety, und interest, 
 and conversation centres in the churches. There is 
 often little else to gather the folks together, and 
 such questions as, " Who's to be assisting you ? Is 
 your own man at home just now ? Does he belong to 
 • oor body ' ? Where did he sit in Stirling ? Will he 
 be coming among us ? " required nothing more to 
 be said to convey to nearly everybody that they 
 were questions about the Church, 
 
 A site was easily found for the Free church in 
 
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 (716) 872-4503 
 
 ■^^ 
 

 
 
 
qgp 
 
 •iS 
 
 i6o 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 Blinkbonny, and a church, on what was then known 
 as the Tanfield Hall plan, a plain building of small 
 gables and no architectural pretensions, was ready 
 for occupation before the winter had fairly set in. 
 Previous to this, a regular congregation had been 
 formed. The majority of the elders had " come out '* 
 with Mr. Barrie, so that the session was easily made 
 up. The Free Church also revived what most of 
 the other churches in Scotland had overlooked or 
 discarded, viz. the order of deacons, whose special 
 function is to attend to the secular affairs of the 
 congregation, and who are solemnly "ordained and 
 set apart " for that important work ; and to this 
 more complete carrying out of the apostolical practice 
 may be attributed much of the success which has 
 attended the financial schemes of the Free Church, 
 as it brought into her service the active, the shrewd, 
 the prudent, and the willing, and provided a congenial 
 sphere for the exercise of their talents. 
 
 The Session has as its special province the spiritual 
 affairs of the congregation, and as the higher court 
 it affords greater scope for the exercise of the gifts 
 of utterance, readiness in the Scriptures, etc., on 
 behalf of the members generally, but particularly 
 towards the afflicted, the weary, the backsliding, or 
 the erring. The Session is, besides, associated with 
 
 >£.■ 
 
HOMELY COMMENTARY, 
 
 l6i 
 
 then known 
 ling of small 
 3, was ready 
 fairly set in 
 )n had been 
 1 " come out " 
 J easily made 
 ^hat most of 
 overlooked or 
 (vhose special 
 affairs of the 
 'ordained and 
 and to this 
 olical practice 
 iss which has 
 Free Church, 
 e, the shrewd, 
 id a congenial 
 
 the spiritual 
 
 higher court 
 
 of the gifts 
 
 |ires, etc., on 
 
 particularly 
 
 icksliding, or 
 
 kociated with 
 
 the Deacons' Court in the superintendence, or at least 
 the regulation, of the secular affairs ; and there is 
 thereby secured a combination, which old George 
 Brown characterized, on the occasion of the proposal 
 to elect the first deacons in Blinkbonny, thus : " What 
 I said afte^ the meetin* in the hall on the Saturday 
 after Mr. Barrie cam' hame was, *As it were the 
 company of two armies,' but I didna think o' the 
 Deacons' Court at the time. But I've been readin' 
 the Acks o' the Apostles, an* I find that the want 
 o' deacons hindered the very apostles ; but when they 
 got them the murmuring was not only stoppit, but 
 the number o' the disciples increased greatly, an' even 
 a great company o* the very priests, the unlikeliest of 
 all kinds o' folks, ivere added to the Cburch. I wonder 
 what for every kirk hasna deacons? Maybe it's because 
 Stephens an' Philips are ill to find; and I'm inclined to 
 think that we'll a' find that we've a great deal to learn 
 about how to conduct kirk business o' a' kinds." 
 
 I became a member of the first deacons* court. 
 
 When our church was fit for use, we parted from 
 our Secession friends with a grateful sense of their 
 generous treatment of us, which we expressed as 
 warmly as we could, and there is still existing 
 much kindly interchange of brotherly affection be- 
 tween the two congregations. 
 
•ii: -I 
 
 162 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNV. 
 
 When we opened the new church, we were 
 especially gratified at the readiness with which 
 several persons offered to place themselves at the 
 disposal of the congregation, according to their ideas 
 of what they could do. The appointment of a church 
 officer or beadle was brought up at a congregational 
 meeting ; but it was very quickly settled by Walter 
 Dalgleish, a jobbing gardener, who had been from the 
 first a staunch adherent of the Free Church. " Ye'll 
 need nae paid beadles," said Walter, rising half off 
 his seat ; " I'll serve ye in that capacity if ye'll alloo 
 me, and be proud to do't for naetliing." 
 
 He proved a capital beadle, and when the funds 
 were prosperous he was offered a salary. His answer 
 to this proposal was unanswerable. " Christian friends," 
 said he, " I've been mair than paid already. Me an* ma 
 household have had what we read o' in Second Samuel, 
 sixth chapter an* twalth verse, how the Lord blessed 
 Obed-edom an* all his household, when the ark rested 
 in his house for three months. If ye're pleased wi' 
 me, just let me do as I've been doing; or tell me 
 hoo I can do better, an' ye'll no' need to tell me 
 twice if I can help it." 
 
 For the leading of the psalmody, the precentorship, 
 there were several ready offerers. Of these, Andrew 
 Taylor, the son of Mr. Taylor, the elder already 
 
 *,* 
 
"MUSIC HATH CHARMS. 
 
 »63 
 
 h, we were 
 with which 
 }elves at the 
 to their ideas 
 it of a church 
 congregational 
 ed hy Walter 
 been from the 
 lurch. "Ye'U 
 rising half off 
 y if ye'll alloo 
 
 rhen the funds 
 '. His answer 
 ristian friends," 
 iy. Me an* ma 
 Second Samuel, 
 le Lord blessed 
 the ark rested 
 e're pleased wi' 
 ng; or tell me 
 eed to teU me 
 
 le 
 
 precentorship, 
 f these, Andrew 
 elder already 
 
 spoken of, most frequently occupied the "desk," as 
 the precentor's seat was called (sometimes, however, 
 the " bunker "). On one occasion it was the " turn " 
 of his worthy father to stand at the "plate" in 
 the lobby where 'the " collection " was made, along 
 with a deacon named William Morrison, who was by 
 trade a joiner, and had been working for the greater 
 part of the summer in a neighbouring county at a 
 new mansion-house. Andrew Taylor had a good voice 
 of considerable power and sweetness, and William 
 Morrison did not know that he was to lead the 
 singing that day. As soon as his clear, silvery tone 
 caught the deacon's ear, he turned quickly to Mr 
 Taylor, and said, " V/ha's that that's precentin* ? " 
 
 " It's our Andrew," said Mr. Taylor. 
 
 " Your Andrew, Mr. Taylor ! " said William, extending 
 his hand ; and taking Mr. Taylor's, he shook it warmly. 
 " Your Andrew ! Ah, Maister Taylor, Maister Taylor, 
 it's c^lorious a'thegitherl It's by-ordinar* grand to 
 see sae mony finding out that they're like the thou- 
 sand an* seven hunder an* threescore in the ninth o' 
 First Chronicles, * very able men for the work of the 
 service of the house of God,' that were clean idle 
 before. Eh, Maister Taylor, Maister Taylor I I maun 
 join in, — I cannot help mysel*.*' 
 
 And these two men, standing at the plate in the 
 
 *>• 
 
l64 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONN'Y. 
 
 lobby opposite the outer door, sent their voices into 
 the street, for they knew the Psalms too well to need 
 any book ; and the appropriate words added strength 
 to their lungs as they sang part of the 144:th Psalm 
 to the tune " New London " : 
 
 ^ 
 
 i 
 
 ** That, as the plants, our sons may be, 
 In youth grown up that are ; 
 Our daughters like to corner-stones, 
 Carved like a palace fair. " 
 
 I may here state that not the least observable 
 matter in the new state of things was the additional 
 meaning and force found in the Psalms of David. 
 Possibly they are best adapted for a militant, progres- 
 sive, almost agitated state of the Church. In oui 
 parish church, by the same people, they had been 
 listlessly sung and seldom " entered into ; " but in the 
 new church, even in the reading of them by the 
 minx^oer, there was new light thrown on old psalms. 
 Many in the congregation could be seen giving an 
 appreciative nod, and if nearer them, you would have 
 heard a very slight "hem," which meant, "I didn't 
 observe that before." 
 
 There was possibly a tendency to apply to present 
 circumstances what suited other and often all times ; 
 at all events, the psalms were sung with intense feel- 
 ing. To specify the favourites would be to copy a 
 
PSALMS AND HYMNS. 
 
 I6S 
 
 ces into 
 
 
 
 to need 
 
 ». 
 
 strength 
 
 
 ,h Psalm 
 
 
 
 1 
 1- 
 
 bservable 
 
 H 
 
 idditional 
 
 
 )f David. 
 
 
 ;, progres- 
 
 
 In oui 
 
 
 had been 
 
 ^'4l 
 
 )ut in the 
 
 ^^( 
 
 Q by the 
 
 
 Id psalms. 
 
 1^9 
 
 giving an 
 
 , b|w 
 
 ould have 
 
 
 «I didn't 
 
 ^flB 
 
 to present 
 
 '•i^H 
 
 all times ; 
 
 4 
 
 tense feel- *" 
 
 y-gB 
 
 to copy a 
 
 
 d 
 
 great part of the Book of Psalms. If anything, the 
 nineties had the palm, but the forty-sixth—" God is 
 our refuge and our strength," Luther's " Ein Feste 
 Burg" — became as popular with us as it had been in 
 Germany. 
 
 Perhaps this may account for the slow progress 
 which hymns made for many years in Scotland. 
 Many of these noble compositions of Christian genius 
 are now used as vehicles of praise, and they unques- 
 tionably have their place and power in the service of 
 song ; but the older folks still maintain that they want 
 " grup ; " and the early Scottish Church found ample 
 material for expressing its aspirations or presenting 
 its tribute of grave sweet melody in the old Psalms of 
 David. 
 
 For Mr. Barrie the summer was one of special 
 excitement. He was much occupied with his own 
 congregation, and with the affairs of the Free Church 
 of Scotland generally. He had always been a studious 
 man, was a fair scholar, and had given conscientious 
 attention to his preparations for the pulpit, and to the 
 visitation of the sick. But he now appeared to have 
 got now life, and an increased power of penetration 
 into many parts of the Christian's duty. Instead of 
 relaxing what is called in Scotland discipline, or 
 lowering the terms of communion, he was more em- 
 
i66 
 
 BITS FROM BLIliKBONNY. 
 
 i 
 
 phatic than ever in pressing on all, especially on 
 advanced young persons, not to profess what they did 
 not feel. He seemed a man absorbed in his Master's 
 work, and his former reading experience and observa- 
 tion became a magazine whence he could draw for 
 his ready service illustration, incentive, or appeal. 
 
 He not only surprised others, but he was a wonder 
 to himself. Thoughts flowed in on him as he prepared 
 himself in the study for pulpit work; light broke 
 in so as to surprise and refresh him ; parts of Scrip- 
 ture that seemed barren before, were now bristling 
 with meaning and practical lessons. "What surprised 
 him most was that he hardly ever looked into com- 
 mentaries or books of systematic theology. The 
 circumstances of himself and his people became so 
 real to him, that nearly every verse he read seemed to 
 suggest a good text for a sermon ; and his difficulty 
 was in arranging his ministrations so as to give to 
 each part its proportionate share of attention. 
 
 "I seem to myself to be," said he to a brother 
 minister, "like the lame man at the Beautiful gate of 
 the temple. Up till now T have beeiv lame from my 
 mother's womb ; but I feel as if my feet and ankle 
 boiles had received strength, and now it is with me 
 more like walking, and leaping, and praising God." 
 
 His fears as to the support of his family, which had 
 
f 
 
 '*OVER AGAINST THE TREASURY: 
 
 167 
 
 cially on 
 they did 
 Master's 
 [ observa- 
 draw for 
 peal. 
 
 a wonder 
 J prepared 
 ;lit broke 
 of Scrip- 
 bristling 
 surprised 
 into com- 
 p. The 
 lecame so 
 seemed to 
 difiiculty 
 give to 
 
 brother 
 111 gate of 
 |from my 
 
 id ankle 
 
 with me 
 
 lod/' 
 
 lich had 
 
 been so very trying to him, were now gone; and 
 although he did little in the way of directly stimu- 
 lating congregational liberality, he in the course of 
 his preaching showed, what few of us had noticed 
 before, the great prominence that giving to God's 
 rause has both in the Old and New Testaments, and 
 its reflex influence on the Church. This went to the 
 hearts of the people, and they offered willingly. During 
 the first year the congregation raised more than had 
 been collected in the Established church of the parish 
 for fifty years. 
 
 Over Scotland much of the same spirit existed. 
 The continuous rain of £1000 a-day, as Dr. Chalmers 
 called it, kept pouring on, — so much so that those 
 who were looked on as martyrs in '43, were 
 spoken of as heroes in '44. Indeed, their heroism, 
 like all other heroism, was by many considered 
 rashness ; and when they undertook to erect schools 
 as well as churches, it was thought that the "ship 
 would soon get over-freighted and go to the bottom ; " 
 but it seemed as if the more they attempted, the more 
 they proj^pered, until, like the Israelites in Egypt, the 
 people multiplied and waxed very mighty. 
 
 Well do I remember the evening of our first annual 
 soiree. The treasurer's report told of some £400 
 paid, and other £300 promised. As soon as it was 
 
i68 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 M 
 
 
 finished, Mr. Barrie stood up, and without book, 
 without even giving out the number of the psalm, 
 repeated with great vigour : 
 
 ** When Sion's bondage God tum'd back, 
 Like men that dream'd were we ; 
 Then filled with laughter was our mouth. 
 Our tongue with melody," etc. 
 
 The singing was hearty. 
 
 The experience of hundreds of Free churches in 
 Scotland was similar to that of Blinkbonny; and 
 when we consider that the members were a moiety 
 of what those of the Established Church had been 
 previous to the Disruption, and that they had not 
 been trained to systematic giving (for it is matter of 
 history that the contributions of the Church of Scot- 
 land previous to 1843, for charitable and religious 
 purposes, were utterly disproportionate to her wealth, 
 and fell far short of what the Dissenters of the period 
 raised), we are the more struck with the stream of 
 devout and intelligent liberality which flowed into 
 the Free Church treasury steadily md continually, 
 and which is still flowing. 
 
 The years 1844—1847 were severe years for the 
 country. Owing to the potato disease and consequent 
 dulness of trade, poverty and want came to many 
 a door, and hundreds not only denied themselves 
 
MORE TO FOLLOW, 
 
 169 
 
 it book, 
 a psalm, 
 
 Lrches in 
 ly ; and 
 a moiety 
 lad been 
 had not 
 [natter of 
 of Scot- 
 religious 
 r wealth, 
 le period 
 tream of 
 ved into 
 itinually, 
 
 for the 
 nsequent 
 o many 
 emselves 
 
 luxuries, but many things formerly considered neces- 
 saries weiv> more sparingly used, in order to alleviate 
 the distresses of suffering Ireland and the Highlands, 
 as well as the general poor ; and instead of the one 
 call interfering with the other, both were promptly 
 and nobly met, to an extent that would have been 
 declared unattainable a few years before. 
 
 I cannot refrain from making special mention of 
 the cause of foreign missions. It can readily be 
 supposed that with churches, and manses, and in 
 many places schools, to build, and the ministry to 
 support by spontaneous contributions, with no fixed 
 source of income, and little experience of voluntary 
 liberality, the Free Caurch would have had so much 
 to do at home that there was neither call nor means 
 to undertake foreign mission work. 
 
 The mission question was a emlexing one. The 
 missionaries of the Church of P md, being out of 
 the arena of immediate conflict, yc^ conversant with 
 the matters in dispute, were as well qualified as any 
 men could be to judge of the points of contention; 
 and their decision as to whether they would declare 
 themselves as adhering to the Established or Free 
 Church, was anxiously looked for. 
 
 To all human appearance the Free Church could do 
 nothing for them, — certainly could guarantee nothing. 
 

 lyo 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 However willing their spirit might be, their flesh 
 seemed in this matter helplessly weak. Moreover, 
 the "Non-Intrusion" matter was a home question, 
 and did not directly affect the missionaries, and the 
 Established Church had still great wealth and power 
 without any such extra call on her resources. 
 
 The decision of the missionaries was unanimously 
 and resolutely in favour of the Free Church. When 
 this fact was announced to the Assembly at its meet- 
 ing in Glasgow in the autumn of 1843, it created 
 intense excitement. The enthusiasm was indescrib- 
 able. For some minutes the meeting was a Babel 
 of cheering, and shouts of joy, and mutual congratula- 
 tions, friend rushing to friend to relieve their feelings 
 by violent shakings of hands; and every now and 
 again during the meeting the pent-up gladness ex- 
 ploded vociferously. 
 
 The Free Church had already undertaken enormous 
 responsibilities. "Would they assume this additional 
 one ? Dared they ? Was it not a question of the 
 certain king who had ten thousand soldiers to meet 
 twenty thousand 1 Had they a clear call to go 
 forward ? It was a solemn question. Yes required 
 strong — ^very strong faith. Would they say Yes? 
 No was the loud answer of sight, — clearly, unquestion- 
 ably. No. 
 
>♦ 
 
 FROM POLE TO POLE. 
 
 171 
 
 and 
 ex- 
 
 go 
 
 : 
 
 The foundation of the Home Church had been laid 
 in a way that was wonderful in their eyes. Was the 
 building ready for this grand cope-stone ? 
 
 " It will crush it to atoms," said the adver- 
 sary. 
 
 "Never!" was the triumphant reply. "Who art 
 thou, great mountain ? before Zerubbabel thou shalt 
 become a plain ; and he shall bring forth the head- 
 stone thereof with shoutings, crying, Grace, grace unto 
 it I " And the support of the missionaries and mission 
 stations was undertaken with enthusiasm. 
 
 All the funds collected for the mission cause were 
 of course in the hands of the Church of Scotland, and re- 
 tained by it, although these had been largely supplied by 
 those who now formed the Free Church. The mission 
 premises abroad were also kept by them, and even the 
 mission libraries and educational appliances, although 
 these had been mostly brought together by the personal 
 efforts or friends of the missionaries, so that the Free 
 Church got the living men only. 
 
 This was according to the Utter of the law, but 
 many of the best men in the Established Church 
 strongly insisted on the funds, etc. being partly 
 apportioned to the Free Church, and that the property 
 should go with the missionaries, as equity and con- 
 sistency alike indicated, even in the things that were 
 
172 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 Caesar's. A reverend father of the Established Church 
 thus expressed himself on this subject : 
 
 " The question yet to be settled is, are they ours ? 
 Did I say yet to be settled ? That depends on the 
 court in which the question is tried. In the highest 
 court, the decision of the greater than Solomon would 
 be in this matter in f«'7our of ^he Free Church. 
 * Give her the living child, she is the mother thereof ; * 
 this has already been done, and it is a mean thing 
 to send her empty away." 
 
 "When it was proposed to contribute regularly for 
 foreign missions in Blinkbonny, the more experienced 
 members deemed it inexpedient until our home affairs 
 were put on a sure basis, but some of the ladies 
 espoused the cause keenly. They with some diffi- 
 culty prevailed on Mr. Taylor to introduce the subject 
 at a general meeting. His speech was far from being 
 hearty ; it was a mere question, " Could the members 
 give to any scheme they liked ? " 
 
 " Certainly," replied the chairman. 
 
 " Well, there are some that want to give to the mis- 
 sionaries, and I think we should appoint a committee." 
 
 This was done, and before a year had passed £42 were 
 collected. Strange to say, the other schemes seemed to 
 suffer so little, that even George Brown, who was one of 
 the most timid, " thocht the folk were made o' siller." 
 
GUDE SILLER. 
 
 173 
 
 Church 
 
 iy ours ? 
 on the 
 highest 
 
 n would 
 Church. 
 
 ihereof ; ' 
 
 \n thing 
 
 larly for 
 
 erienced 
 
 e affairs 
 
 e ladies 
 
 le difl&- 
 
 subject 
 
 n being 
 
 aembers 
 
 he mis- 
 nittee." 
 1:2 were 
 imed to 
 one of 
 siller." 
 
 How different this was from what we had done for 
 missions 'n the old Church ! I remember of the well- 
 to-do farmer of Ramsay lands asking me for two six- 
 pences for a shilling, add" ig, " Isna this a collection for 
 the missionaries ? I fancy we'll hae to gi'e them a sax- 
 pence." Next week he gave to a curling club a silver 
 medal. 
 
 He was justly esteemed as a good, kind man, but 
 his "saxpence " not unfairly represents the ideas of 
 the times on the subject of missions. 
 
 It took a considerable Lime to reconcile the older 
 folks to the exercise of missionary liberality. As I 
 was coming from a meeting in which the missionary 
 treasurer had announced that there had been collected 
 for foreign missions during the previous year upwards 
 of £42, James Wilkie, an old gamekeeper, spoke thus : 
 
 " Mr. Martin, did I hear richt, think ye ? did our 
 treasurer say that we (?) had gathered forty-twa pound 
 for thae missionars ? " 
 
 " Quite right," said I ; " forty-two pounds odds, 
 James." 
 
 " It's a great heap 0* siller," said he ; " div ye no' 
 really think that it's a pity to see a* that gude siller 
 gauu out 0' the country ? " 
 
 I will close this chapter with two reminiscences of 
 Dr, Duff in the Free Church General Assembly. 
 
174 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 The Home Mission report was being commented on 
 by Sheriff Monteith. He said that home missions had 
 not the romance about them that foreign missions 
 had. 
 
 Dr. Duff sprang to his feet with a bound like a 
 tiger springing on its prey, and said something like 
 this : 
 
 " Romance, sir ! Romance did I hear you say ! — 
 romance ? Are the burning suns of India romance ? 
 leaving home and kindred, and ease and comfort, 
 romance ? exposing your family to the horrors of 
 heathenism, romance ? " At each sentence he stepped 
 nearer Sheriff Monteith, until, while saying something 
 rather personal about not leaving his comfortable table 
 to visit the dens of infamy in the Cowgate, his clenched 
 fist was dangerously near the Sheriffs face. It was 
 not a long speech, but the look of burning indignation 
 with which he delivered it, and the energy of his 
 gesticulation, told powerfully. At the last words, 
 " Romance, forsooth 1 " he sat down exhausted. 
 
 Never was " oil thrown on the waters " with more 
 quiet force and effect than by Dr. Buchanan on that 
 occasion. A few words sufficed, words of remarkable 
 dignity and tenderness, and at their clf»se he took Sheriff 
 Monteith by the one hand, and Dr. Duff by the other, 
 and with great heartiness they shook hands on the plat- 
 
! 
 
 THE FLOWERS a THE FOREST. 
 
 >7S 
 
 
 form of the Assembly amidst the loud applause of the 
 audience. I thought then, and I think yet, that 1 
 never saw three as fine-looking, noble-hearted Chris- 
 tian gentlemen, — certainly never grouped on such a 
 striking occasion. • It seemed to me to be a living 
 group representing Faith, Hope, Charity, but I would 
 not undertake to determine which was which. 
 
 My other reminiscence is of the evening meeting 
 after the union of the Free Church with the Original 
 Secession Church. I can recall Dr. Duff's massive, 
 sunburnt face, his thick, erect, bristling hair, and his 
 perfervid eloquence. 
 
 He spoke of looking out on his return from India 
 for the grand old ministers he used to meet in his 
 younger days. "Where were Dr. Andrew Thomson, 
 Dr. David Dickson, old Dr. M'Crie, Dr. Chalmers ? Not 
 in the haunts of living men. He had to go to the 
 graveyards and content himself with honouring their 
 memories ; and it made him feel as if 
 
 * The flowers o* tli« forest were a' wede away.* 
 
 But when he returned to the familiar streets, he forgot 
 his grief as he saw Dr. M'Crie, the worthy son of a 
 worthy father. Dr. John Brown, Dr. Grey, Dr. Glover, 
 and such men carrying aloft the standard of the 
 Master. Truly great was the multitude that pub- 
 
 ! 
 
17^ 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 lished the good news in Scotland, but what of India 
 with its tens of millions ? How was the Church dis- 
 charging its duty to the heathen world ? " 
 
 He then said with a persuasive smile : " A mother 
 in Scotland thus showed her loyalty for an earthly 
 prince : 
 
 * I hae but ae son, my brave young Donald, 
 But gin I had ten they wad follow Prince Charlie.' 
 
 Why not the same, why not greater devotion to the 
 Prince of Peace, the King of kings ? I ask not the 
 tens, although that would be but right, but in this 
 day of small things I ask but one in ten." 
 
 I 
 
 \ 
 
[la 
 
 Ls- 
 
 ler 
 
 tho 
 the 
 bhis 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 BELL AT HOME IN KNOWE PARK. 
 
 *' An' wow but the lassie was pawky an' slee. 
 For she smiled an' she smirkit till a' man, 
 Growin' a'bodie's bodie, baith muckle an' wee, 
 
 An' onr folk wadna let her awa', man ; 
 For when there was trouble or death in the house^ 
 
 She tended the sick-bed as quiet as a mouse, 
 An' wrought three folks' wark aye sae canny an' donoe, 
 Yb wad thocht she did naething ava, man. 
 
 James Ballantine. 
 
 A LTHOUGH Mr. Walker found, when he came to 
 -^^ the parish of Blinkbonny, that the congregation 
 was very much smaller than it had been under Mr. 
 Barrie, he did not manifest a spirit of rivalry towards 
 the Free Church ; and, as his pulpit work did not 
 require much preparation, owing to his having a good 
 stock of sermons to f^U back on, he set himself first 
 to visit every house in the parish. He was a kind, 
 sensible, neighbourly man, and had a quiet way of 
 giving useful hints, and, where needed, remonstrances 
 or reproofs that often produced good effects. 
 
 While Mr. Morrison, the Secession minister, was 
 the best theologian, and Mr. Barrie the best preacher, 
 Mr. Walker was the best pastor. When one met 
 
'^^.-. 
 
 178 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 Mr. Morrison, he was *' complaisant " and heavy. 
 Mr. Barrie was polite, but he seemed at one time 
 abstracted, and at another as if he was too late for 
 some engagement ; but Mr. Walker was courteous, 
 afifectionate, interesting, and interested. In their 
 preaching, Mr. Barrie was the most rousing and 
 popular, Mr. Morrison the most profound and exege- 
 tical, Mr. Walker the most sympathetic and practical 
 Next to the Bible, Mr. Walker's favourite book for 
 pulpit preparation was Matthew Henry's grand old 
 Commentary. Mr. Morrison, on the other hand, con- 
 sulted a great variety of authorities, ranging from 
 Augustine and the Fathers to Eobert HalL Mr. Barrie 
 drew largely from Calvin, Boston, Flavel, and • the 
 Puritan divines, as well as from the church historians, 
 Knox, Neander, d'Aubign^, M'Crie, etc. ; and between 
 the three, Blinkbonny was well off for ministers. 
 
 Mr. Walker took great interest in the administration 
 of the poor laws, and as a member of the Parochial 
 Board he pled the cause of the deserving, and firmly 
 opposed the demands of the indolent or lazy, got up 
 local flower-shows, and gave cottagers and others 
 useful hints as to their gardens, so much so that these 
 became the pride of the place. He was unsparing in 
 his extermination of all preventable nuisances and 
 everything injurious to the health of the coiamunity, 
 
TO ALL THE COUNTRY DEAR. 
 
 179 
 
 me 
 for 
 
 DUS, 
 
 heir 
 and 
 ege- 
 iicaL 
 : for 
 L old , 
 
 con- 
 
 from 
 Barrie 
 i . tlie 
 jrians, 
 
 itween 
 
 bration 
 rochial 
 firmly 
 rot up 
 others 
 these 
 Iring in 
 i9 and 
 lunity, 
 
 tried to get a better play-green for the boys, joined in 
 the game of curling, and, stout as he was, he was a 
 tough opponent, but at the same time a very pleasant 
 man to play with. Although he never intruded his 
 profession, he never forgot, far less disgraced it, and 
 Blinkbonny soon came to look on him as the most 
 useful man in the place — just a very fine man ; and , 
 although leisurely in some of his ways, he was well 
 qualified to take an active part in public affairs. 
 
 He seldom passed any remark about the doings of 
 the Free Church, and those he did pass were of an in- 
 offensive kind. He did not grumble at their successes, 
 nor did he show any ill-feeling towards its adherents 
 Certainly he wondered at the interest their services 
 seemed to excite, and the money they could command. 
 He thought there were too many meetings and even- 
 ing services, which might interfere with family and 
 domestic duties ; that th>ey were in danger of spiritual 
 pride (there he was right) ; but he thought upon the 
 whole that good was being done, — at least he hoped so, 
 and as the minister of the parish, he rejoiced in every- 
 thing that promoted its real welfare. 
 
 He had a few good sermons, and was especially 
 proud of a series of lectures on the parables. These 
 he had commenced to re-deliver, although he did not 
 do so in strict chronological order. One of his best, 
 
I I 
 
 i'f 
 
 i8o 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 he thought, was on the Ten Virgins ; but he felt crest- 
 fallen when, after asking an old friend's opinion of it, 
 he was answered : 
 
 " Mr. Walker, I've heard that lecture twenty years 
 ago, and middling often since then. The virgins are 
 auld maids by this time ; ye should either marry them 
 off or let them alane." 
 
 The lecture Mr, Walker thought his very beet was 
 about the sower going out to sow. It was a congenial 
 subject, as he had given agriculture very great atten- 
 tion, and he actually made it into two lectures, thus 
 spreading it over two Sabbaths. He had preached 
 the first half, and intimated that on next Sabbath he 
 would resume the subject, and hoped to conclude it 
 Unluckily for him, an eminent clergyman from 
 Edinburgh was to preach in the Free church on that 
 day, and for the first time he felt chagrined at seeing 
 a very small audience in his church. 
 
 He said to his candid friend John Tait, on the 
 following Monday, " that he was sorry to see so 
 few folk in church yesterday. If I know myself at 
 all, I feed my people with the finest of the wheat, 
 
 and my memory of what Mr. M' was at college 
 
 and in the hall is, that he was an indifferent scholar, 
 although a showy speakeif." 
 
 Johnnie's reply was at least honest : " Oh ay, 
 
 I 
 
«C?A^ HOUSEHOLD CARES INTENTS 
 
 tSt 
 
 •est- 
 f it, 
 
 rears 
 i are 
 
 bhem 
 
 was 
 jenial 
 itten- 
 , thua 
 :ached 
 ith he 
 ide it 
 from 
 that 
 seeing 
 
 a 
 
 n 
 
 the 
 see so 
 self at 
 wheat, 
 college 
 cholar, 
 
 )h ay, 
 
 
 Mr. Walker, nae doubt, iiae doubt ye gi'e us as ye ca't 
 the finest o' the wheat ; but our wife bakes the best 
 wheat scones in the kintra-side, and even they are the 
 bette'* 0* a little butter or jelly or honey to them ; and 
 maybe ye're a wee scrimpit o' that sort o* kitchen to 
 mak' your substfintial fare mair toothsomer." 
 
 Between Mr. Barrie and Mr. Walker the inter- 
 course was cordial, although not familiar. And Bell 
 got reconciled to Mr. Walker, and even jealous of 
 him when she saw that the manse garden and park 
 were fully as productive as they had been under her 
 management, although not quite so tidy. 
 
 The miracle already referred to, of how Mrs. Barrie 
 could do what she did, and as she did it, on the income 
 they had, still continued to exercise the wondering 
 attention of the neighbourhood. 
 
 The flitting had been attended with considerable 
 expense. Some new things had to be got for Knowe 
 Park. The children were growing up, and the boys 
 were, like all healthy boys, " heavy " on their clothes ; 
 and besides, Mr. Barrie was a liberal contributor for 
 the maintenance of ordinances and the erection of 
 the new church. » 
 
 Mrs. Barrie, seconded by her faithful Bell, stuck to 
 her thrifty practices and ^usehold duties, whilst at 
 the same time she took grejk interest in all that con- 
 
 
1 8a 
 
 BITS FROM BUNKBONNY. 
 
 cerned the church, and by her good sense and motherly 
 counsel quietly did much useful work. She made Mr. 
 Barrie her first worldly care, and this enabled him to 
 overtake his arduous duties timeously and efficiently. 
 
 Bell was as constantly diligt . *o ever, working 
 away in the house, amongst her live stock, and in 
 getting the garden up to her standard. When the 
 winter evenings set in, she kept stitching away, 
 trying to keep the boys all right ; for that was her 
 special department, as Mrs. Barrie attended to the 
 girls' attire. The wires for knitting stockings were 
 nimbly plied at all spare hours ; and as she could read 
 and knit at the same time, she became well up in 
 Free Church matters, as she got a " look of the news- 
 papers " in the evening. She paid little attention to the 
 general news, but perused with great interest " a'thing 
 about kirks." She also read with much care all the 
 Free Ohurch magazines. 
 
 When November term came, Mrs. Barrie, as she 
 had generally done, put into an envelope Bell's half- 
 yearly wages, or " fee " as Bell called it, and handed 
 the parcel to Bell. 
 
 There was an understanding between them that 
 there was to be no " speakin* at the * speakin' time,' " 
 that is, no asking Bell if she. was "stayinV Mrs. 
 Barrie had done this for the first three years, but Bell 
 
 
RATHER TOO MUCH. 
 
 183 
 
 beseeched her not to do it again, — ^" she couldna bide 
 it; if she wasna gaun to stop, she wad gi'e plenty 
 warninV And although Bell's fee had been increased 
 more than once, she had never asked an advance, nor 
 had Mrs. Barrie ever told her of it beforehand ; indeed, 
 the payment of the fee seemed to be the most trying 
 part of the intercourse between Mrs. Barrie and Bell, 
 from the strange feeling that some fine natures have 
 when money matters are referred to. Not only was 
 there little said on such occasions, but Bell felt at a 
 loss for words to thank Mrs. Barrie for raising her fee. 
 She seldom got past " it's far ower kind — far ower kind, 
 'deed is't." And Mrs. Barrie felt the same difficulty, 
 for her reply rarely exceeded, " It's not that. Bell ; I 
 wish " — Then she passed on to some other subject, 
 and both seemed to be relieved, and to enter afresh 
 on another six months' imclouded intercourse. 
 
 On this occasion, however, Mrs. Barrie was sur- 
 prised at Bell's troubled look, and more so at her 
 words. 
 
 " Mrs. Barrie," said Bell, handing her back the 
 money, " I canna tak' it, and I daurna tak' it. Dinna 
 be angry at nie, an' oh, mem, dinna press me. This has 
 been a heavy half-year on ye, an' if I daur'd offer ye 
 what little I hae, I wad gladly gi'e a* my ' stockin* fittie;* 
 for an old rig-and-fur stocking was Bell's purse, and she 
 
tU 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 .1 
 
 kept it for safety in the bottom of the case of the 
 kitchen clock, covered up with an old dirty dusty 
 wrapper, the only regularly dusty thing in her 
 kitchen. 
 
 Mrs. Barrie thoroughly appreciated BelFs generous 
 thoughtfulness, and although she was put about by it, 
 she tried to keep this Irom Bell. 
 
 " Bell," said Mrs. Barrie, " you're exceedingly kind, 
 it's very thoughtful indeed of you ; it's just like yourself. 
 But I'm thankful to say that there is not the slightest 
 need for your perplexing yourself about us, for we've 
 enough and to spare, so please say no more about the 
 matter ; but thank you very much, Bell, all the same." 
 
 Bell was loth to yield, and only did so after 
 repeated pressing. Mrs. Barrie left the kitchen, and 
 had hardly sat dovr i in the parlour, when Bell came 
 in, and laying a one-pound note on the table, said : 
 
 " Ye've countit wrang, mem, if you please ; ye've 
 gi'en me a pound ower much." 
 
 " No, Bell, not too much," said Mrs. Barrie ; " too 
 little if you like, but not too much. You told me 
 just now it had been a heavy half-year with us. 
 What has it been to you? You have done two 
 v/omen's work." 
 
 " No' me, Mrs. Barrie, no' me. I have a gude place, 
 an'a no oppressed nae way. Twae women's wark ? — 
 
 i 
 
" TWICE blessed:' 
 
 185 
 
 n 
 
 reve 
 
 "'too 
 
 me 
 
 us. 
 
 two 
 
 lace, 
 1?— 
 
 pity their men or their mistresses ! It's nae wark at 
 a* ; naebody meddles wi* me ; I dae as I like." 
 
 ** Because you always like to do well, BelL" 
 
 ** I wish I did," said Bell, and was leaving the 
 room, when Mrs. Barrie said : " Take the pound with 
 you. Bell." 
 
 " No, Mrs. Barrie ; excuse me, mem," said BelL " I 
 never disobeyed ye before, but I will not take that 
 pound — I could not take it." 
 
 " Do what you like with it, Bell, but pray take it 
 away ; it's yours." 
 
 Bell lifted it, and said, " For His cause." Her 
 fee had been a consecrated thing in her mind for some 
 time, and seeing Mrs. Barrie had declined it. Bell, 
 with great comfort to herself, apportioned it between 
 the Building, Sustentation, and Mission Funds of the 
 Free Church ; with the exception of one pound, with 
 which she bought "Alloa yam," and knitted cosy 
 under-garments for the whole household, herself 
 excepted. She did this at odd times, almost by 
 stealth; and on New- Year's day, when each inmate 
 was wishing Bell a happy New Year, she put into 
 their hands the cosy clothing, saying, "That's your 
 hansel ; " but in the case of Mrs. Barrie it was varied 
 by, " That's pairt o' yon pound." 
 
 Bell's cookery is a subject I cannot handle as it 
 
TTWTI'HIIIII 
 
 i86 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 sLouJd be bar died. I bave occasicnally beard ber tell 
 of tbe regular winter Sabbatb-day dinner as follows : 
 
 " Tbere's notbing beats a sbeep's bead. We bae ane 
 every Sabbatb ; it's cbeap, and very baady. Tbere's 
 tbis gude tbing about it, it needs little watcbin*, 
 and disna gang wrang wi' ower lang boilin' : cleek it 
 on, an' get it fair tbrougb the boil, tben cleek it up 
 so as it'll no' boil ower an' pit oot tbe fire, an' ye may 
 lock tbe door an* gang a' to tbe kirk, an' come oot 
 wben you like. It disna matter for an bour or twa, 
 eitber ; 'deed it's a' tbe better o' plenty o' tbe fire — 
 especially if ye bae a bandfu' o' tbe * blue pat- pea' in't, 
 an* plenty barley. Tben wbat's like tbe broth on a 
 cauld day ? An' tben tbere's tbe tongue for tbe bairns, 
 an' tbe bead for tbe big folks. I like tbe feet best 
 mysel' [that's like you, Bell] ; an' tbe broth's grand 
 next day — they're a denner tbemsel's." 
 
 In cooking potatoes. Bell could boil them till they 
 were ragged in the "jackets," but " mealy" all through ; 
 bake them in tbe oven with their skins on, so that 
 with a little salt butter they were like eggs, and 
 " suppit '* as eggs are ; fry them till they were " deli- 
 cious ; " beat and brown them with a little milk so as 
 to render them a satisfying meaL Moreover, with the 
 addition of a little dried fisb, cod or ling, eggs or or^d 
 Acraps, she made such dainty dishes as I cannot get 
 
 J 
 
they 
 )ugh ; 
 
 that 
 , and 
 ' deli- 
 
 so as 
 
 th the 
 
 )r o^d 
 
 )t get 
 
 ■ 
 
 AFT£Jl MEG DODS. 
 
 187 
 
 ♦ l-'-i* 
 
 reproduced. Possibly the potaCo diseaise may account 
 for this. 
 
 I caii apeak from experience of her wonderful 
 success with salt herrings, — " food for a king," as Mr. 
 Taylor used to say, — and am tempted to speak of her 
 stews aud " hashes," and haggises and white puddings ; 
 for these were never too rich, but palatable, digestible, 
 and tempting, and often they were made out of what 
 modern cooks would put aside as unfit for family use. 
 Out of common pot barley she made a delightful 
 pudding, that beat rice pudding hollow. l>ut I must 
 not make this a cookery-book. 
 
 I asked Bell for some receipts on one occasion. 
 
 " There's nae receipt about it, Mr. Martin," said she ; 
 "just gang richt aboot it, an' ye canna miss. It's just 
 as easy as A-B-buff when ye're into the way o't" 
 
 " Just so. Bell ; but how do ye get into the way 
 o't ? " 
 
 "Tuts, Mr. Martin," said Bell playfully, "that's no' 
 a man-body's parish ; and as the sayin' is, * Hunger's 
 gude kitchen ;' altho', in ma way 0' thinkin', there's as 
 muckle, if no' mair, lies wi' the cook as wi' the flesher, — 
 it are thae." 
 
 Bell had always on hand what cooks call " stock," 
 on which she could fall back as occasion required for 
 soups and grayies. 
 
iS8 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 On a bitterly cold day, a Mr. Kirkwood called at 
 Knows Park by the desire of a Colonel Gordon, to make 
 inquiries as to his relationship to Mrs. Barrie, whose 
 maiden name, as already stated, was Mary Gordon. 
 
 Mr. Barrie was from home, and the family dinner 
 was, in Bell's phrase, an " offpit ; " and Mrs. Barrie, 
 knowing this, expressed her regret that she could 
 hardly ask Mr. Kirkwood to join them at their homely 
 meal, as the chief dish was plain potato-soup. 
 
 Mr. Kirkwood's face brightened at the familiar name, 
 which reminded him of his early home; for he had 
 been abroad for over thirty years, and had only recently 
 returned to Scotland to spend the evening of his days. 
 
 " Potato-soup !" said he ; " ah, that recalls old times. 
 If it is not presuming on your hospitality, I would like 
 immensely to renew my acquaintance with a very old 
 favourite." 
 
 "With great pleasure," said Mrs. Barrie, as slie 
 showed him into the parlour. 
 
 It would be unjust to call Mr. Kirkwood a gourmand, 
 but he was an epicure, fastidious in culinary matters, 
 and an authority in gastronomies. He was accordingly 
 helped to the soup. One spoonful brought a smile, 
 partly of surprise, but quite as much of delight, to his 
 face ; the second confirmed the favourable verdict, and 
 the contents of the plate soon disappeared. 
 
POT-LUCK. 
 
 189 
 
 I at 
 lake 
 hose 
 
 ■ 
 
 uner 
 irrie, 
 jould 
 mely 
 
 aame, 
 J had 
 jently 
 days, 
 times, 
 d like 
 ry old 
 
 IS slie 
 
 •mand, 
 latters, 
 •dingly 
 smile, 
 to his 
 ct, and 
 
 He looked at Mrs. Barrie, slightly moved his plate, 
 and said hesitatingly, " May I presume ? " 
 
 " Most certainly," said Mrs. Barrie. " I'm so pleased 
 that you relish the soup ; it is quite the weather for 
 doing so." 
 
 Plate numher two was more leisurely emptied, with 
 certain appreciative motions of the lips and face, and 
 he again cast a lingering look towards the tureen, and 
 said : " Excuse me, madam, I assure you that I never 
 tasted any soup equal to this, although my knocking 
 about the world has familiarized me with nearly every 
 sort and every style of cookery. It's superb ; it's simply 
 magnificent. Would it be outraging the laws of polite- 
 ness ? " He had again slightly lifted his plate. Mrs. 
 Barrie was greatly pleased, and served out plate 
 number three with her happiest smile, for the table 
 was now a merry one. 
 
 When the third plate was finished, she jocularly 
 refilled the soup divider, and, looking toward him, said, 
 " Do allow me." 
 
 Mr. Kirkwood, who was in great good humour, 
 said : " You are very kind, and I feel as if I could relish 
 more, but we must draw the line somewhere, so no 
 more, thank you. But pray, Mrs. Barrie, may I ask if 
 your cook would favour me with the receipt?" 
 
 " I don't think there's any," said Mrs. Barrie. 
 
I90 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 f ■ 
 
 # 
 
 % 
 
 " Then may I see your cook ? ** 
 
 "We have only one maid-of-all-work," was the reply. 
 
 " Then she's a treasure. May I see her ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; " and Bell was called in. 
 
 Mr. Kirk wood rather confused Bell hy abruptly 
 asking, " How ever did you make this magnificent 
 soup, cook ? I never had anything equal to it." 
 
 Bell saw that he was in earnest, and that Mrs. 
 Barrie seemed in great spirits, so she at once said : 
 
 " It's just ordinary pitattie soup, but the day I had 
 a ham bone, an* the stock was gude ; an' ma way is 
 aye boil the pitatties separate, then pour them, then 
 beat them, or as we ca'd * champ * them, and add them to 
 the stock, and steer and mix them weel, an' be sure 
 that baith them an' the plates is hett." 
 
 " Ordinary soup !" said Mr. Kirkwood ; " that's a 
 matter of opinion ; my idea is that it is the Tve, pliis 
 tdtra" 
 
 " The what ? " said BelL ** What kind o' apples ? " 
 
 "/sk this young gentleman," said Mr. Kirkwood, 
 looking to James ; " he's doubtless a Latin scholar. My 
 translation is ' the top of the tree,' ' the head sheaf,* 
 the * never was beat,' t'ua crSme-de-la-crSme ; " and Mr. 
 Kirkwood left in great spirits, warmly thanking Mrs. 
 Barrie and Bell, both of whom were much amused by 
 the little incident 
 
 ■' 
 
THE AULD SCOTTISH KAIL BROSE. 
 
 191 
 
 Bply. 
 
 uptly 
 
 ficent 
 
 Mrs. 
 
 I: 
 I had 
 
 way is 
 1, then 
 hem to 
 )e sure 
 
 hat's a 
 
 pies ? " 
 rkwood, 
 IT. My 
 I sheaf/ 
 and Mr. 
 ng Mrs. 
 lused by 
 
 James gave Bell the literal translation of ne phi$ 
 ultra, viz. " nothing more beyond," " i jthing better," 
 not a little proud of having been called in as inter- 
 preter. 
 
 Mrs. Barrie, knowing that Bell was well acquainted 
 with her family history, told her that Mr. Kirkwood 
 had been making inquiries about her father, at the 
 request of some Colonel Gordon, and asked Bell if she 
 knew anything about the Colonel or Mr. Kirkwood. 
 
 Bell said no, but that Dan Corbett was coming to 
 see about something in the afternoon (it was to kill 
 the pig, but Bell was too well bred to put it so plainly), 
 and she would ask him, as he " kenn'd a* the folk round 
 aboot ; and Dan will be divertit when I tell him that 
 Mr. Kirkwood said oor pitattie sonp was like his game 
 fowls, lor he spake o* them as ' never was beat,' an' 
 
 * the top 0' the tree.' I've been thinkin' that he micht 
 mean that they were half pitattie soup, and half 
 
 * cockie-leekie.* " 
 
 After Dan's immediate work was over at Knowe Park, 
 he was a good deal surprised when Bell asked him to 
 " come in. and get a cup 0* tea, for it was a cauld nicht, 
 an' she wantit to speak to him aboot twa or three ithcr 
 things ;" and he was even more astonished when Bell 
 sat down with him. He had the diffidence sometimes 
 80 strongly developed in aa outcast, and it was with 
 
 4 
 
•yr 
 
 '■ 
 
 I- 'I 
 
 192 
 
 B/rS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 difficulty that he was persuaded to draw even his chair 
 near the table. What had taken Bell to be so gracious 
 he could not think, nor could she. There was a some- 
 thing that had led her to look on Dan of late with 
 pity, then with interest, then with a desire to try " an' 
 mak* something o* the puir creatur* ;" and to-night she 
 actually went the length of saying, " As it was very 
 stormy ootside, he micht smoke in the kitchen if he 
 wad blaw the smoke up the chimney as much as he 
 could." 
 
 Dan's first remark after tea was over, and after he 
 had gauged the angle at which to deliver the smoke 
 into the chimney, was, " I think ye'll find Knowe Park 
 fit ye fine, but I canna comprehend what gar'd Mr. 
 Barrie leave the auld manse." 
 
 Bell tried to explain the matter, but the points were 
 far too fine for Dan's rough-and-ready way of reasoning, 
 and he said : 
 
 " I wad 'a been very sorra if I had been him. The 
 Government as ye speak 0* wasna meddlin' wi' Mm^ 
 and he was weel likit ; an* they say this new kirk is 
 takin' a heap 0' siller. / wad 'a bidden in the auld 
 
 ane. 
 
 >> 
 
 " He couldna dae that for his principles, although 
 we a* left the auld nianse, as ye ca'd, wi' a heavy heart ;" 
 and Bell spoke to Dan at considerable length about 
 
DUMBARTON. 
 
 «93 
 
 hail 
 jious 
 ome- 
 with 
 
 « an* 
 itsbe 
 J very 
 
 if he 
 
 as he 
 
 ftei he 
 ) smoke 
 ve Park 
 ^r'd Mr. 
 
 nta were 
 asoning, 
 
 m. The 
 
 wi' ^^wi> 
 JIT kirk is 
 the auld 
 
 although 
 vy heart ; 
 gth about 
 
 the Disruption, and the family, and brought in "wee 
 Nellie " and her death, and her grave in the old kirk- 
 yard very touchingly. 
 
 "Aweel," said Dan, "I think ye were the mair 
 fules to leave. Maister Walker's a nice man, but so is 
 Mr. Barrie; and for a* I can see, the tane is exactly 
 the same as the tither. Wad Mr. Barrie no gang back 
 yet ? " 
 
 " Never," said Bell warmly ; " ye may as weel try to 
 lift the milkin' stane o' Dumbarton ! " ^ 
 
 As Bell said this, Dan's pipe dropped out of his 
 cheek, and he gave a nervous start ; his only eye fixed 
 itself on Bell with more than usual firmness, and he 
 said, "What do ye ken about the milkin' stane o' 
 Dumbarton?" 
 
 " I come frae Dumbarton ; sae does Mrs. Barrie : did 
 ye no' ken that afore, Dan ? " 
 
 "No me," said Dan; " hoo could I ken'd till y : 
 tell't me ? I never thocht on the matter at a' ; it was 
 nae business o' mine." 
 
 " Oh," said Bell, " the mistress was a daughter, the 
 
 only daughter, o' Mr. Gordon o* the Grainaries." 
 
 ^ The name given to an enormous mass of rock, which according to 
 local tradition fell from the Castle rock into the cow park of primitivo 
 Dumbarton. One or more women who were . ailking their cows are 
 said to have been smothered by it : if that is the case, the guide may 
 safely assert that their bodies are there yet, as the " milking stone " 
 will weigh thousands of tons. 
 
 N 
 
 f 
 
"Wf 
 
 "f 
 
 t. 
 
 194 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBOANY. 
 
 Dan rose in intense excitement, and said, " Preserve 
 me, I maun awa* Bell ; dinna speak to me ony mair 
 about that, I canna bear*t the noo. Oh, let me gang ! 
 let me gang ! " 
 
 Bell was astonished at Dan's sudden excitement, 
 and could see no reason for it ; so, recollecting about 
 Mr. Kirkwood, she said, " Sit doon a minute, an' I'U 
 tell ye a farce that happen't the day." 
 
 She then told about the potato-soup, and said, " You 
 that ken's a' the folk in the country-side, can ye tell 
 me onything about that Mr. Kirkwood ? He's been 
 lang abroad, about India or some 0' thae places.** 
 
 Dan, who was now a little quieter, sat down and 
 said, " That'll be him that's bocht ' Strathgowan.* I've 
 seen him. He has some braw dougs : he has a mastiff 
 that I think could fecht ma Burke, an* he^s no' easy 
 bate.** 
 
 " By the bye," said Bell, " he was speirin' about Mrs. 
 Barrie*s father.'* Bell said this without thinJcing, and 
 Dan a^min started to his feet. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Dan, but what makes ye sae 
 wild when I speak o* auld Mr. Gordon ? There's nae- 
 body here that ye need care for, an* there's something 
 on yer mind, but I canna contrive ^ idt it* is. What- 
 ever is't, Dan ?'* said Bell, and she tried all the kitchen 
 doors, to show him that they were closely shut; then she 
 
GENERALSHIP. 
 
 '95 
 
 seive 
 mail 
 gangl 
 
 jment, 
 about 
 
 m' I'll 
 
 "You 
 ye tell 
 I's been 
 
 \T 
 
 )-vni and 
 k I've 
 a mastiff 
 no* easy 
 
 )Out Mrs. 
 
 53 ye sae 
 ere's nae- 
 sometHng 
 B, Wbat- 
 he kitchen 
 b; tbenshe 
 
 added, " Sit doon, Dan, an' gather yersel a wee, for I 
 promised to the mistress to speak to you about Mr. 
 Kirkwood." 
 
 Dan swithered and writhed about a little, fixed his 
 single eye on the kitchen door, twirled his bonnet 
 in his hands, but at last he sat down, and looked 
 thoughtfully in the fire. 
 
 " That's wiselike, Dan ; that's like yersel', Dan," said 
 Bell encouragingly ; " they say that ye were the best 
 watcher o* a kirkyard in the county, and ye're no' gaun 
 to start at naething. Weel, as I was saying, this Mr. 
 Kirkwood was here the day, for to obleege some 
 Cornel Gordon that's come hame frae India, and that 
 wants to ken about the Gordons o* the Grainaries, an* 
 if Mrs. Barrie was ane o' them." 
 
 Dan, still looking at the fire, said, " Div you ken a' 
 thing about Mr. Gordon ? I never kent till this moment 
 he was Mrs. Barrie's father." 
 
 I stated in my first chapter that Mrs. Barrie never 
 referred to her father's changed circumstances, and had 
 asked Bell never to speak of them in Blinkbonny, so 
 that Dan's question was a poser. She took a very red 
 face, and said, " A'thing, Dan ? a'thing ? " then going 
 nearer him she whispered, "I ken about the brandy, an' 
 tobacco, an* salt, an' as I see you ken tae, we can 
 speak freely about it; but mind never breathe the 
 
. 
 
 ! 
 
 ■ 
 
 V 
 
 ■ 
 
 196 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 thing to ony ither mortal whatsomever about Blink- 
 bonny." 
 
 "But," said Dan, "did ye ever ken wha put the 
 brandy an* things there ? " 
 
 " No," said Bell, " not me ; how could I ? It never 
 was ken'd, an' likely never will be ken'd." 
 
 " Bell," said Dan, looking steadily in her face, " I 
 ken, I ken a' about it, but there's no anither livin' 
 man that I ken o* kens that bit o't but mysel' ; an' 
 Bell, for your life dinna tell onybody that I tell'd ye. 
 Never let on to leevin* about it." 
 
 There was a long pause. Bell was thinking the 
 matter over, and had more than once been asked by 
 Dan to promise never to "breathe the thing." At 
 length she said solemnly, " I'll never mention your name 
 unless I'm sure it's to benefit Mrs. Barrie ; but she said 
 something about a brother that this Cornel Gordon 
 had, that had been a wild man in his young days, and 
 that he had written to thb Cornel that if ever he had 
 it in his power he was to mind Mr. Gordon o' the 
 Grainaries, for this brither hadna dune fair someway wi' 
 him. I think I understand it a' noo. This brither's 
 been ane 0' them that hid the smuggled goods in Mr. 
 Gordon's cellar, — ane o' them that the excisemen just 
 missed by their boat ' whummlin' ' \i.e. capsizing] at the 
 milkin' stane, an' the smugglers got a' safe away ; an' 
 
ink- 
 the 
 
 lever 
 
 5, "I 
 
 livin' 
 ; an' 
 'd ye. 
 
 g the 
 ed by 
 " At 
 rname 
 le said 
 Gordon 
 ^s, and 
 he had 
 o' the 
 way wi' 
 )rither's 
 \ in Mr. 
 [len just 
 y] at the 
 ^ay; an* 
 

 V 
 
 8 
 
 < 
 
 O 
 
 H 
 
 j 
 
 I 
 
•■I i;!i] 
 
 iiiiillii 
 
 i i!l!t!liJil'"ii!llll!l 
 
 ;iil!! 
 'i"i!lillli! 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 
 '(I 
 
 It I 
 
 !l!li! 
 
 I 
 
 III 
 
 '!i'"ii|i!"l'i ,i!P"ii! 
 
 !llil{! Ill {lllll 
 
 'liililiil"""' 
 
 "'""! II 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 H 
 
 o 
 
 H 
 
 WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS. 
 
 197 
 
 although the judges kent fine that worthy Mr. Gordon 
 wasna to blame, and didna pit him in the jail, the 
 excise office wadna forgi'e a farden o* the fine, and 
 puir Mr. Gordon was a harried, ruined man wi* it an' 
 the law expenses, an* the trial, an* the scandal o* the 
 thing. The folk said that it was a cousin 0' his, that 
 they used to ca' * the Duke o' Gordon' for a nickname, 
 that put the brandy an' stuff in the grainaries, for he 
 kent the place fine, but he never could be laid hands 
 on after. I see't a' noo." 
 
 Dan remained silent for some time, then said, " Ye 
 may say that. Bell ; ye ken'd a' noo, — a' but one thing, 
 an' that is (but for your life dinna come ower't), I 
 helpit to row the boat that the * Duke ' escapit in." 
 
 Bell's mind was still considering the matter. " I 
 wonder," said she, speaking to herself, " if this Cornel 
 Gordon is a brother o' the ' duke's,' as they ca'd him ? 
 an' if he's no marriet an* rich? an* if he means to 
 mak' up for his brither's ill usage o' the auld folk by 
 giein' a' his siller to Mrs. Barrie ? If I thocht that, I 
 would gi'e Mr. Kirkwood something that wad astonish 
 him mair than the tattie-soup. D'ye ksn, Dan, that I'm 
 npliftit, fair upliftit — it looks that like the thing ? ** 
 
 Bell's glee communicated itself to Dan. " If that 
 was to be the way o't," said Dan, " noo that the thing 
 is lang past an* gane, an* they surely canna meddle 
 
w 
 
 ^ 
 
 • ! 
 
 HB i 
 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 ! 
 ■ 1 
 
 I 
 
 198 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 me for only rowin* a boat " (Pan, Dan, only ? well, let 
 it pass), " I micht tell the ' duke's ' brither what /kent; 
 but he's a cornel, an' thae sodgers are terrible ill at 
 the emugglers." 
 
 Bell and Dan agreed to say * nothing to nobody " on 
 the subject, until they were quite sure that they could 
 forward Mrs. Barrie's interest by doing so ; and although 
 some time elapsed before an opportunity occurred of 
 clearing this affair up, the maintenance of strict secrecy 
 was enforced by Dan on every occasion on which he 
 saw Bell, by a significant motion of his arm, accom- 
 panied by, " Mind yon, Bell — Eh, Bell, mind yon ! " 
 
 While Bell went about her work as heretofore, there 
 was a strong undercurrent of thought constantly wind- 
 ing itself round Dan's connection with Mrs. Barrie's 
 father's misfortunes, or round Mr. Kirkwood and Colonel 
 Gordon, and they got all mixed up, until she was quite 
 in a maze. Many a time did she lay down the 
 stocking she was knitting, and sit idle, thinking the 
 matter over and over; but somehow she could never 
 think it out, it only got more twisted and ravelled. 
 Many a time after such a "brown study" did she 
 rouse herself with an impatient gesture, and resume 
 her knitting, saying almost angrily, " This is ridic'lus* 
 I'm fair donnert [stupid] ; I'll gi'e ower thinkiu' aboot 
 it" 
 
I ■ 
 
 THE HOME BUDGET, 
 
 199 
 
 I, let 
 
 kent; 
 ill at 
 
 ir" on 
 
 could 
 hough 
 red of 
 jecrecy 
 ich he 
 acconi- 
 )nl" 
 •e, there 
 ^ wind- 
 Barrie's 
 Colonel 
 ras qnite 
 )wn the 
 iing the 
 Id never 
 
 ravelled. 
 
 did she 
 d resume 
 
 ridiclus. 
 tin' aboot 
 
 Many a sleepless hour it caused her, and as her 
 first call in the morning was paid to Daisy, she un- 
 burthened her mind to the unconcerned cow. 
 
 " Daisy," she would say, " my pretty lady, I'm fair 
 bamboozled [utterly confused]. I've hardly sleepit a 
 wink the nicht ; that mixty-maxty business o* Dan an* 
 the Grainaries an' the Cornel has been bizz-bizzing 
 [hum-humming] in my head. If I could but see 
 Cornel Gordon his lane [alone] I could pit it a* richt ; 
 for ye see, Daisy, James is a big laddie noo, an* he 
 wants to be a minister, an' that tak's a heap o* siller; 
 an' Mary's gettin' a big lassie, an* needin' music lessons ; 
 for ye ken, Daisy, a' young folk, espesh'ly a* young 
 women folk, should get some music putten into them. 
 Then there's Lewie, he's in Latin a'ready ; and Flora, 
 she*s in the tenpenny book; an* wee Gordie. — *Deed 
 he's no' that wee, but I like to ca* him wee when he 
 disna hear me. — He*s gotten on the kilt, an* he'll no' 
 be lang before he's upsides wi* Flora at the schule 
 [school], for he's gaun to be a grand scholar. He's a 
 feckfu' [very spirited] laddie, Gordie ; he'll show them 
 a' a dance yet. An' what bothers [troubles] me, Daisy, 
 is whare's the siller to come frae ? If I could just 
 hae a quiet crack wi' the Cornol, I think I could let 
 him ken hoo he could do a great deal o* gude v^i' his 
 siller \ for ye ken, Daisy, a' the auld men that cornea 
 
\ 
 
 too 
 
 sirs FROM BLJNKBONNY. 
 
 hame frae India for guid an' a' bring wi' them bow- 
 sackfu's [large sacks full] o' siller." 
 
 It is difficult to transcribe intelligently Bell's con- 
 versations with Daisy — they were conveyed in the 
 very broadest Scotch. I can only account for this on 
 the ground that Daisy was not only a patient listener, 
 and never asked the meaning of any unusued word or 
 phrase, but that she was also of the very best and 
 purest Ayrshire breed, and was therefore sure to pre- 
 fer the native Doric of the land of Bums. 
 
 Bell was sorely tempted to open her mind to Mrs. 
 Barrie on this subject, but it was the one topic Mrs. 
 Barrie had strictly enjoined her n&oer to allude to. 
 During her first year's service in Mrs. Barrie's, Bell 
 had once or twice unwittingly made some references to 
 it, and these had been the only occasions on which 
 Mrs. Barrie showed temper towards her. The mani- 
 festation of unutterable abhorrence which these pro- 
 voked made Bell so studiously a\oid everything that 
 had the slightest chance of recalling it, that neither in 
 Mrs. Barrie's hearing, nor in her conversation with 
 others, did she ever speak of Dumbarton or her early 
 association with it; and this may account for Dan's 
 astonishment at hearing her refer to the "milking 
 stone." 
 
 A strong interest in the Barrie family took hold of 
 
*'FULL MANY A GEM." 
 
 ^l 
 
 bow- 
 con- 
 L the 
 is on 
 itener, 
 )rd or 
 \t and 
 5 pre- 
 
 Mrs. 
 
 B Mrs. 
 ide to. 
 8, BeU 
 nces to 
 which 
 mani- 
 36 pro- 
 ig that 
 Lther in 
 m with 
 >r early 
 r Dan's 
 milking 
 
 hold of 
 
 Dan, and although he had few opportunities of showing 
 it, he hit on one, the most unlikely, considering the 
 kind of man he was, that could almost he conceived, 
 but one wliich went as directly to their hearts as it 
 did credit to Dan's. 
 
 When Bell paid her early spring visit to Nellie's 
 grave, to " sort " it after the winter's storms, carrying 
 with her the first bunch of snowdrops, for which she 
 had watched anxiously, she was surprised to find that 
 some fresh plants were blooming there already. 
 
 She asked Guy if he had done this. He had not 
 When she got home she asked aU the inmates of 
 Knowe Park if they had planted them ; — they had not. 
 She ran over in her mind every likely person, and 
 asked as many as she came into contact with. All 
 answered, No. It was only after getting Guy to watch 
 very strictly, for other flowers had been added besides 
 those she saw first, that she found out that it had 
 been done by Dan. 
 
 Bell was amazed. " 0* a' the folk in the world, Dan 
 was the last onybody wad a* thocht on. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Barrie could never guess him. There's mair gude in 
 the craitur than ever I thocht. I like Dan. Noo 
 when I think on't, I'm awfu* glad that it was Dan." 
 
 As soon as Mr. Barrie heard of it, he called at 
 Ban's house. This was the first time a minister had 
 
saBKoni 
 
 202 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 ever been in it. Dan was a reckless, brave man, 
 utterly indififerent about religion, and when he saw 
 Mr. Barrie enter his house he got very uncomfortable 
 — he felt the power of at least the presence of good- 
 ness, and what conscience he had waxed warm within 
 him. 
 
 Mr. Barrie saw this, and knowing the way to Dan's 
 heart, began first to talk of his dog, then of his feirets, 
 until Dan felt more at ease, and even offered to give 
 Mr. Barrie a young bull-dog, which Dan thus de- 
 scribed : 
 
 " He's pure bred, an' the vera picture o' Burke there ; 
 an* his mither, auld Nancie that's noo deid an' gane, 
 was the finest o' her kind in Britain." ' . 
 
 " Then you miss old Nancie, Dan ? " 
 
 "Miss her! miss her, Mr. Barrie!" said Dan, now 
 quite at his ease ; " I can hardly get ower her death." 
 
 " Dan," said Mr. Barrie, grasping his horny and by 
 no means clean hand, " I loved my wee Nellie ; and 
 Mrs. Barrie and all of us thank you." Here Dan 
 started and said, *' Oh ! " but Mr. Barrie still pressed 
 his hand and spoke on. " Yes, Dan, and we love you 
 for loving her; and, Dan, wee Nellie would like to 
 meet you in heaven to thank you herself." 
 
 Here Dan started and said, "Me in heaven, Mt 
 Barrie! me in heaven — that's what she'll never see." 
 
^^THE OLD, OLD STORV:* 
 
 803 
 
 aan, 
 saw 
 able 
 ood- 
 Lthin 
 
 )an'8 
 
 I rets, 
 
 give 
 
 3 de- 
 
 ihere ; 
 gane, 
 
 , now 
 ath." 
 nd by 
 and 
 e Dan 
 ressed 
 vQ you 
 like to 
 
 jn, 
 
 Mr. 
 
 ' see. 
 
 " Why, Dan, why ? Nellie's Saviour wishes you — 
 yes, you — to get there, and the angels would sing a 
 loud welcome over you ; for as truly as you miss your 
 Nancie, or we loved Nellie, as certainly as Burke likes 
 you to make of him, so true is it that our Heavenly 
 Father wants you to come to Him ; just as you are — 
 wild, careless, sinful, bad as you think your life has 
 been. There's a kind friend up there," said Mr. Barrie, 
 pointing upwards, " has commanded me to tell you this 
 good news to-day. Believe it, Dan — believe it." 
 
 Dan was unable to say more than, ** Is that a fact ? 
 Sent you to tell me that ? I can hardly think that can 
 possibly be — an' yet you're a man o' your word ; but 
 it's no' easy believin't" 
 
 On the floor of the dirty cottage the two knelt down, 
 and so simple were Mr. Barrie's words, and so single 
 was his heart, that it may safely be said they prayed 
 together. 
 
 Mr. Barrio handed Dan half a pound of tobacco, 
 although he had very great difiBculty in persuading 
 him to accept it; Dan was almost stubborn in his 
 refusal Mr. Barrie, however, got him to take it, and 
 just before leaving kindly advised him to pray for 
 himself ; — "just plain words — only say what you think, 
 and ask whatever you feel you need, but be sure and 
 do it at once." 
 
204 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 Dan said nothing, — -it was all strange to him, — ^but 
 when Mr. Bame went away, he thought over it, and 
 smoked over it, and ultimately resolved to have a crack 
 with Bell about it, for she could understand him better. 
 And many a chat they had, but Dan could not be per- 
 suaded to go to the Free Church. 
 
 " I micht try the * auld kirk,' it was mair the puir 
 folk's kirk, for they tell me that they're awfu' folk for 
 seekin' siller in the Free Kirk; an' I've kent Mr. 
 Walker langest, an' he's a hamely kind o' man — but 
 we'll see." 
 
 So will we in an early «'' apter. 
 
the piui 
 ' folk for 
 kent Mr. 
 aaa — ^but 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 INCIDENTS IN BLINKBONNT, 
 
 ** Oh ! many a shaft at random sent 
 Finds mark the archer little meant 1 
 And many a word at random spoken 
 May soothe or wound a heart that's broken.** 
 
 Sir Walter Seott. 
 
 rilHE energy of the Free Church had been a subject 
 -■- of special dislike to Miss Park ; and when she 
 heard that Mr. Barrie called on Dan, and that Bell 
 for whom before the Disruption she had a great respect, 
 was on such intimate terms with him that she actually 
 allowed him to sit in her kitchen, and even tried to 
 make a Free Churchman of him, she was exceedingly 
 bitter in her remarks on the subject. 
 
 One day Mr. Walker chanced to c.rll, and she 
 expatiated to him on the burning shame she felt at 
 such ongoing^. 
 
 "The Free Church folks must be hard up for 
 supporters when they have to jo to such a worthless 
 vagabond and try to make a Christian of him. It's a 
 
2o6 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 f 
 
 disgrace, a scandal — it's sacrilege !" and much to the 
 same effect. 
 
 Mr. "Walker not only did not sympathize with her, 
 but spoke very firmly to her for thus traducing the 
 very first principles of Christian charity, and said that 
 the " plucking of such brands from the burning was 
 the grandest work the Church could undertake." 
 
 " Then why did yow not do it ? " said Miss 
 Park. 
 
 Mr. Walker pled guilty to having been remiss in 
 discharging such duties, but said that he would try to 
 amend, and that he would see Dan soon. 
 
 He told her that it was not an easy matter to meet 
 every case. " For instance," said he, " I was calling a 
 fortnight ago on a man; he said he was in great 
 distress, both of mind and body, 'just real ill— ^ust 
 real, real ill, every way, temporally and spiritually — a* 
 wrang, body and the ither way; an' to add to my 
 troubles, my landlord — the sweep o'er there — has 
 warned me out o* his house, for altho' I aye paid 
 him his rent, plack an' farthin', when I was weel, I've 
 fa'en behind this half-year, an' I'm just fair despairin*, 
 just awfu' bad.' I advised him to cast all his cares, 
 of every kind, temporal and spiritual, cares of mind, 
 cares of body, cares of estate, on his Maker, and ask 
 His guidance. 
 
 ^, 
 
"77"^ AN ILL wind:' 
 
 21)7 
 
 bo the 
 
 h ber, 
 
 ig the 
 id that 
 ng was 
 
 \ Miss 
 
 jmiss in 
 Ldtry to 
 
 : to meet 
 calling a 
 in great 
 ill— ^ust 
 ,ually— a* 
 d to my 
 icre — has 
 aye paid 
 weel, I've 
 despairin', 
 
 his cares, 
 of mind, 
 
 :, and ask 
 
 * I have just now returned from visiting him, and 
 to-day I found him in grand spirits, although not, in 
 my opinion, so much improved in health as to account 
 for his being so very cheerfuL * Well,' said I, * how 
 do you feel to-day?* 'Eh, sir!* said he, 'yoti was 
 a grand advice ye gied me a fortnight ago, just an 
 awfu' grand advice. When you went out I just did 
 as you told me : I cast a' my care o* a* kinds, baith 
 for this world an* the next, a' my care about mysel* 
 an' fam'ly, indeed a'thing, where ye tell'd me; and,' 
 he added, with a very hearty voice, jerking his thumb 
 iv. the direction of his landlord's house, ' eh, man I the 
 swe^*8 deid ; he'll no' bother me again. So, ye see, 
 it's a grand thing to tak' gude advice; an' hasna' 
 Providence been kind, kind ? ' " 
 
 I can recall a visit I paid to a widow shortly after 
 her husband's death. He was a well-informed, active, 
 abstemious man, but had a very violent temper, ana 
 was more easily put into a towering passion than 
 any man I ever knew. On the slightest provocation, 
 often on none, he would say the snellest [most biting], 
 sharpest things. He was a fireside theologian, well 
 read in the old divines, and an extreme Calvinist, for 
 he came of a Cameronian stock, and was a Pharisee 
 of the Pharisees as touching every jot and tittle of 
 church law and form. 
 
 
 !■ 
 
 !'! ; 
 
T 
 
 l 
 
 208 
 
 B/rS FROM BLINKbONNY. 
 
 I knew the household well, and whenever I 
 appeared, Mrs. Gray welcomed me. She wa^ a quiet, 
 industrious body, anl had been to him a good wife 
 under very difficult circumstances. She had got 
 through with her work amongst her cows for the 
 night but had still on the rough w.rsted apron of 
 nappy homespun wool, called a " brat." She told me 
 familiarly to take a chair, and sat down herself in an 
 old high-backed arm-chair, which stood close to the 
 chimney cheek. There were two or three cushions on 
 it, highest at the back : it looked an uncomfortable 
 seat, but it enabled her to rest her feet on the floor, 
 so that her posture was half leaning backwards and 
 half sitting. She filled her pipe, for smoking was not 
 unknown amongst the women-folks round Blinkbonny, 
 but instead of lighting it by a spunk, she pushed it 
 into the " ribs " of the kitchen fire, and left it there for 
 a second or two. Whilst she was preparing for her 
 favourite " weakness," I referred to her late husband as 
 mildly as I could, speaking of his infirmity of temper 
 as now no more to him, as it really had been a source 
 of " great tribulation." 
 
 She withdrew the pipe from the fire, and put it in 
 her mouth. Some burning sparks were now and again 
 falling from it on to her brat, but this did not seem to 
 annoy her, she " dichtit " [wiped] them quietly down 
 
er 1 
 
 quiet, 
 
 L wife 
 
 d got 
 
 )r the 
 
 roll of 
 
 old me 
 
 f in an 
 to the 
 
 aions on 
 
 afortable 
 
 the floor, 
 
 aids and 
 
 r was not 
 
 nkbonny, 
 (ushed it 
 there for 
 a for her 
 ashand as 
 of temper 
 a source 
 
 put it in 
 1 and again 
 
 3t seem to 
 letly down 
 
 TJI£ SPEERIT OF MEEKNESS, 
 
 209 
 
 her sloping figure, and said after a few "draws," 
 " 'Deed ay, it just shows ye" — here she took a few more 
 draws in silence — " that the grace o* God will bide wi' 
 a man that nae ither body can bide wi'," — another 
 silent draw or two, — " for I haena the slichtest doubt 
 but that Tammas is in heaven ;" some strong draws 
 followed, as the profuse smoke testified, — " Imt he was 
 ill to thole [put up with] here. I had my ain adaes 
 [to do] wi' him, for he was just a very passionate man ; 
 but ae part o' the white robe he has on noc will be 
 the speerit o' meekness.'* 
 
 An elder in one of the Blinkbonny churches was a 
 very jjserved, silent man, almost afraid to hear the 
 sound of his own voice. He was an undertaker, and was 
 on one occasion employed at a funeral. The company 
 had met, but the minister did not turn up, — a very 
 unusual thing, for clergymen are most attentive on 
 such occasions. — (His absence was caused by the 
 breaking down of a gig when he was on the way.) 
 The father of the dead child whispered quietly into the 
 undertaker's ear: 
 
 " Just pit up a prayer yersel', Mr. Sommerville, if 
 you please." 
 
 "Eh I" said the worthy man; "no — eh — ^no— oh, 
 dinna, dinna ask me ; no, I canna I" 
 
 ? 
 
 i 1 
 
 iA 
 
r. 
 
 h 
 
 !f 
 
 aio 
 
 BITS FROM BUNKBONNY, 
 
 After waiting another quarter of an hour, during 
 which the elder was in a state of great nervous excite- 
 ment, the father /again came to him, but the elder 
 beckoned him to come out of the room. Wlien both 
 were outside, the father said : 
 
 *'Eh, Mr. Sommerville, the wife, puir bodie,* canna 
 bear to let her wee Tammie be ' liftit ' without a bit 
 word o* prayer ; an' she hasna gotten to the kirk since 
 Tammie turned badly, an* she'll be the better, an 
 we'll a* be the better, o* a bit prayer. It's awfu' 
 heathen-like to tak* awa' the bit bairn for gude an* a* 
 out o* it*s mother's house without a word o' comfort; 
 dinna refuse us — we're a* kent [known] folk here.'* 
 
 Mr. Sommerville, who was twitching his fingers 
 until the father had finished, said : " Oh I for ony favour 
 dinna ask me, — I positeevely cannot do't in company ;** 
 then taking the father's hand he pulled him near him, 
 and said with great earnestness : " I wad rather gi'e 
 the coffin for naething. Oh ! ask the new schoolmaster.** 
 This was a young teacher who had lately come to 
 Bliukbonny, and although he was taken aback, he 
 engaged shortly in prayer. All present were much 
 pleased, said that he was an uncommonly nice lad, 
 very obliging, and that anybody could see by his 
 prayer that " the root o* the matter was in him." 
 It may seem strange to add that Mr. Sommerville 
 
MODEST WORTH. 
 
 211 
 
 luring 
 jxcite- 
 I elder 
 (n both 
 
 ; cantia 
 ut a bit 
 rk siQce 
 tter, an 
 t's awfu* 
 ide an* a* 
 comfort ; 
 
 here." 
 is fingers 
 )ny favour 
 ompany ; 
 
 near bitUi 
 [rather gi'e 
 
 jolmaster.* 
 
 [y coine to 
 aback, be 
 rere much 
 nice lad, 
 
 [see by bis 
 
 him." 
 iommerviUe 
 
 was a first-rate elder; he was charitable, consideratfs, 
 upright, and helpful to many. His advices were short, 
 but very " pat :" to the rash, it was, " Leisure a wee ;" 
 to the foolish, "Mend your ways ;" to the intemperate, 
 " Do thyself no harm ;" to his apprentices or workmen 
 when they committed mistakes, his reproofs were not 
 rebukes, far less reproaches, but, " It's a pity," " Ye've 
 gane wrang," "That's no' wiselike;" the most severe 
 was, " That's very stupid-like." 
 
 Mr. Tait, the young schoolmaster above referred to, 
 had succeeded the good old man who had been parish 
 teacher for nearly half a century. He was selected 
 from a list of applicants owing to the excellent 
 testimonials he presented, and had been asked to meet 
 with the examination committee in Mr. Walker's 
 house before the appointment was finally made. He 
 had acted for some time as assistant in a parish school 
 adjoining Middlemoor, and was well known to Mr. 
 Walker. Eeport said he was " after " a niece of Mr. 
 Walker's. 
 
 Mr. Tait on the day of meeting was shown into the 
 parlour beside Mrs. Walker, the committee being in 
 the study. He told Mrs. Walker how nervous he was, 
 and he looked it. She told him not to be afraid — she 
 would help him through. There was a roast of beef 
 at the kitchen fire, which she made the servant carry 
 
 n 
 
 ^ 
 
p 
 
 ! i 
 
 '1 
 ,1 
 
 ! 
 
 ( 
 
 312 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 through the lobby, and slowly past the door of the 
 study; when the fragrant steam got diffused, she 
 opened the study door, and said, " Mr. Tait's here." 
 
 The other business that had occupied the committee 
 was very quickly ujspatched. Mr. Tait was called in, 
 and Mr. Walker was telling the committee what he 
 knew of Mr. Tait's abilities and scholarship, when 
 Mrs. Walker, after the servant had again carried the 
 hissing roast through the lobby, half opened the study 
 door, and gave a nod to Mr. Walker. This, along 
 mth the appeal to the lower nature through the sense 
 of smell, proved irresistible. The gentleman who had 
 been deputed to examine the applicant did so with 
 such haste, and put such childish questions, that every- 
 body saw it wab a joke, for he rattled off questions 
 and answeiH as quickly as he could. Mr. Tait never 
 needed to utter a word. 
 
 Arithmetic, — said he. Quea. How many are six 
 and four? — Ans. Ten, to be sure; that will do for 
 that. 
 
 History. — Ques. Who gave the king the most 
 practical lessons ? — Ans. George Buchanan ; right 
 again. 
 
 Geography. — Ques. What is the largest town in the 
 world ? Ans. Why, Biggar of courso — ^London's a 
 big town, but Biggar's Biggar. 
 
 ;iU! 
 
THE CIVIL SERVICE EXAMINATION. 
 
 ill 
 
 : the 
 . she 
 
 *> 
 
 nittee 
 Led in, 
 aat be 
 
 when 
 led the 
 e study 
 3, along 
 tie sense 
 who had 
 
 80 with 
 at every- 
 
 uestions 
 
 it never ^ 
 
 are six 
 do for 
 
 Ithe most 
 |in-, right 
 
 Iwn in the 
 )ndon*8 a 
 
 Mathematics. — Ques. What is a simple equation ? 
 Ans. Six and half-a-dozen. 
 
 Latin. — Ques. What is the Latin for Fish ? Ans. 
 Aqua vitcB, or " Glenlivat." Ques. Translate Ex nihilo 
 nihil fit ? Ans. It's time we had something. 
 
 General Knowledge. — Ques. What's the best change 
 for a wearied teacher ? Ans. Hill air, for it always 
 makes him hilarious. 
 
 Literature. — Ques. What did John Gilpin's wife say 
 to him, and what did he reply ? 
 
 Ans. " The dinner waits, and we are tired ; " 
 Says Gilpin, " So am I." 
 
 The examination was declared satisfactory. Mr. 
 Tait was appointed schoolmaster of Blinkbonny. The 
 merry company sought the dining-room, did ample 
 justice to Mrs. Walker's hospitality, and drank Mr, 
 Tait's good health and great success to him after thp.t 
 toast had been proposed by Mr. Walker, who, in doing 
 80, spoke a good deal of Mr. Tait's uncle, David Tait 
 of Blackbrae in this parish, who will reappear more 
 prominently amongst the future " Bits." 
 
 My brother-in-law, the Rev. John Macnab, had 
 come out with the Free Church, and was assisting 
 Mr. Barrie at a communion season. The sermon he 
 preached in the evening was a most carefully prepared 
 one ; his subject was ** Heaven ; " and as I do not wish 
 
214 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 to give an opinion of my relative's abilities, I may say 
 that three of the elders said it was " most beautiful, 
 — it was like a series of dissolving views." It was a 
 long sermon, and the descriptive part of it took up so 
 much time that there was no " application " part 
 in it. 
 
 Old George Brown was, as he had often been on 
 similar occasions, my guest for the " preachin's," as 
 the services at communion seasons were called ; and 
 in these days they were abundant in number, being 
 two sermons on Thursday, one on Saturday, and at 
 least one on Monday, besides from about eleven to 
 four and an evening service on SabbatL 
 
 When we got home, George astonished Mr. Macnab 
 by the amount of the day's services he could repeat ; 
 and when he had given his rimitU of the evening 
 sermon, he finished up with: 
 
 " It was really a grand sermon as far as it wenC 
 I never enjoyed a description of heaven better. Ye 
 told us a'thing aboot heaven except hoo to get there ; 
 and, Maister Macnab, youH excuse me, my young 
 friend, for sayin' that that shonidna hae been left out, 
 for ye'll admit yersel' if that's awantin' a's awantin*. 
 Ye'll mind o' the king's son's feast ? The servants didna 
 only tell that a'thing was tesAy, but they compelled 
 them to come in." 
 
** therb:* 
 
 215 
 
 r say 
 Ltiful, 
 7a3 a 
 up so 
 part 
 
 en on 
 I's," as 
 I; and 
 :, being 
 and at 
 jven to 
 
 Macnab 
 repeat ; 
 evening 
 
 it wenC 
 er. Ye 
 \d there ; 
 young 
 
 left out, 
 lawantin*. 
 Ints didna 
 
 )mpelled 
 
 Mr. Macnab said to me that night as we sat to- 
 gether after every other body had retired : " I've been 
 criticized by learned professors and doctors of divinity, 
 by mmisters of experience and ability, by fellow- 
 students and relatives, but that good old man has 
 given me more insight into what preaching should be 
 than all the others put together ; and I hope that as 
 long as I live I will never, never, when delivering 
 God's message to my fellow-men, forget to tell them 
 ' how to get there.* " 
 
 George " got there ** before another communion 
 season came round, and with him were buried many 
 sayings that were " like apples of gold in pictures of 
 silver." Those I have tried to reproduce will remind 
 many men who are now far on in the journey of life 
 of the frequent use of Scripture language and metaphor 
 by the men of two or three generations ago. A tall 
 man was a " Saul among the people ; " news were 
 carried "from Dan to Beersheba;" a disagreeable 
 man was " a Mordecai at the gate ; " and language 
 which was in any way approaching profanity, — and the 
 standard was a rigorous one, — was styled " part in the 
 speech of Aslidod, and part in the Jews' language." 
 Single names were also used, and to many they were 
 most expressive, such as an " Achan," a "Jezebel," 
 a •* Nathaniel," a " Goshen," an « IshmaeL" 
 
^. '-■* 
 
 H 
 
 
 t 
 
 2l6 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 ! 1 
 
 I have heard a keen politician, during the course of 
 the election of a member of Parliament (in the days 
 of open voting, before the "ballot" was introduced, 
 when the hourly returns of the voting at the various 
 polling stations were made, and transmitted by swift 
 riders from one to another), as the numbers were 
 summed .up, ask, in order to know the sts's of the 
 poll, " Is the young man Absalom safe ? " I have 
 also heard a very worthy elder say in the presence of 
 a very worthy minister, " Mary, bring out Jeroboam." 
 Mary produced the whisky bottle. My teetotal friends 
 will doubtless think this a most appropriate nam& 
 
 Mrs. Barrie had been so pleased with Dan's atten- 
 tion to Nellie's grave, that she laid aside the first suit 
 of clothes Mr. Barrie cast off (I luay as well tell that 
 BeU and she between them had " turned " them), and 
 she was debating with herself whether to go to his 
 house with them, or send for him, when she met him , 
 at the manse gate. With considerable difficulty she 
 prevailed on him to come up to the house, but could 
 not induce him to come on to the front approach, 
 much less in by the front door. 
 
 " I'll stand here, if you please, mem," said Dan. 
 
 " But I wish to speak with you in the house, Mr, 
 Corbett^ if you please," said Mrs. Barrie, 
 
THE WEIGHT OF HONOURS, 
 
 ai7 
 
 se of 
 days 
 uced, 
 irious 
 swift 
 
 were 
 ►f the 
 
 have 
 ice of 
 3oam." 
 friends 
 ae. 
 
 atten- 
 
 rst suit 
 ill that 
 i), and 
 to his 
 [et him . 
 Ity she 
 it could 
 ►proach, 
 
 [an. 
 Lse, Mr. 
 
 Dan grinned from ear to ear at " Mrr Corhett ; he 
 did not remember of ever having been called that 
 before, and he kept repeating, " Maister, — Maister, if 
 you please — Eh, Dan, ye'll dae now," laughing 
 heartily either to or at himself. Dan seldom laughed — 
 it was almost a new sensation to him ; but the " Maister, 
 if you please," tickled him immensely, and by the 
 time Bell had got the kitchen door open, for she saw 
 him halt before the window, and slap his leg and 
 laugh until even the blind eye opened and yjjlded 
 copious tears (so she said), he was in a social, happy 
 glow, 
 
 " What's ta'en ye the day, Dan ? what grand news 
 hae ye gotten ? have ye seen '.lie Cornel ? " 
 
 Dan could not reply, but brushed past Bell, and 
 said when he settled a little : 
 
 " It's naething at a'. Bell — it's fair silliness o* me ; 
 but Mrs. Barrie met me at the road end and said," 
 here he fell a-laughing again, — " * Maister Onrbett, if 
 you please.' I'm no' used wi' such genty manners, an' 
 like mony anither fule I was laughin' at myael'." 
 
 Mrs. Barrie came into the kitchen, and he >jighed 
 when she again called him " Mr. Corbett," and said : 
 " Ca' me Dan, if you please, mem ; naebody ever ca'd 
 me Maister a' my days afore, and it aound/s very 
 droll — Maisterin* me." 
 
ai8 
 
 BITS FROM BUNKBONNY, 
 
 ** Well, Daniel, then ! " said Mrs. Barrie. 
 
 **Daii, if you please, mem — ^just plain Dan." 
 
 '« Well, Dan ! " 
 
 "Ay, that's liker the thing,*' said he. 
 
 And Mrs. Barrie spoke very nicely to him ; her 
 silver tones touched his ear like music, and her words 
 reached his heart as she thanked him for what he 
 had so beautifully done at wee Nellie's grave ; and she 
 prevailed on him to come into the dining-room to see 
 a miniature of her Nellie that a friend had paint jd 
 from memory, and presented to her. There were other 
 pictures on the walls, mostly engravings, which Mra 
 BaiTie explained so neatly, and with so much anima- 
 tion and clearness, that Dan forgot himself in listen^ 
 ing to her, and when she had gone round the room he 
 asked: 
 
 ** What did ye say about this ane, if you please, 
 mem ? I think ye called it the Angel's Whisper ? ** 
 
 When she re-described it, he asked abet another 
 and another. All the engravings were on sugges- 
 tive subjects, and Mrs. BSirrie made them doubly 
 interesting by her explanations; and almost uncon- 
 sciously to herself, she kept dropping into his weary 
 heart simple loving words of truth and peace as poor 
 Dan turned from one picture to another, and Mrs. 
 Barrie followed up her description with increasing 
 
 
** MINISTERING ANGELS: 
 
 ii9 
 
 ; heT 
 
 vords 
 it he 
 d she 
 bo see 
 lintjd 
 other 
 Mra 
 inima- 
 isten- 
 om he 
 
 )lease, 
 
 r 
 
 nother 
 ugges- 
 ioubly 
 ancon- 
 weary 
 3 poor 
 1 Mrs. 
 :easiDg 
 
 interest to herself as well aa to Dan. She also gave 
 bim the clothes, and very sweetly counselled him to 
 go to the church, any church he liked, and he would 
 hear some fine pictures. 
 
 " There's nane in the Blinkbouny kirks that I ever 
 heard o', unless it be yon marble image on young 
 Captain M'Lellan's headstane at the side o' the auld 
 kirk pulpit ; an* I aye said to Guy's gude-faither, auld 
 Bitchie, that it was daftlike to hae guns and bayonets 
 an* swords stuck up like stooky [stucco] images in a 
 kirk. But I dinna ken what to do wi' thae fine claes 
 [clothes] ; they^re no* the least like me." 
 
 Dan, however, accepted them at length with a very 
 proper bow, if lowness is any criterion, took another 
 look of Nellie's miniature, and made several bows to 
 Mrs. Barrie as he left the dining-room. 
 
 His description of the pictures gave BeU great 
 delight, and she dropped in a useful word or hint 
 now and again as he went on. Dan ended with : 
 
 " Bell, yon picture o' wee Nellie let's me ken her 
 noo, an* I will keep her grave snod ; an' there's yon 
 ane about the angel's whisper, an' anither ane I maun 
 ask ye to let me see again some day. D'ye ken it 
 Mrs. Barrie wad hand [hold] the kirk in the dinin'-room, 
 an' gang o'er yon pictures, she wad beat a' the ministers 
 ever I heard" ("No very mony, after a'," thought 
 
Hi 
 
 220 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 Dan to himself, " mair's the pity "). " What for do they 
 no' hae pictures in the kirk, an' tell ye' about them, 
 like Mrs. Barrie ? I think they wad soon fill their 
 kirks if they did that." 
 
 Dan tried on the clothes as soon as he got home, 
 and he scarcely knew himself. His first remark was, 
 " Guy, mind yersel', or ''''11 rin ye hard for the beadle- 
 ship ! " His next, looking at his hands, " They's no 
 like thae claes." He then took down his fishing-rod, 
 took his towel with him (it was a ragged old potato bag), 
 bought a bit of soap as he passed through the village, 
 Bought out a quiet pool, and made himself as clean as 
 soap, water, and a rough towel could make him. 
 After this was over, " Ah, but I'm the better o' that ; 
 I'll do't oftener," said he, and put up his fishing-rod. 
 The best of the fish he caught were put under 
 Knowe Park " bass " as formerly, long after night had 
 fairly settled down. Dan started next day to clean 
 his house. Some corners needed it very badly. He did 
 the cleaning very well considering. 
 
 He had a strange dream the night after he had 
 seen the pictures, and after thinking over it and 
 wondering about it for nearly a week, he was driven 
 bO tell it to Bell for peace* sake, as follows : 
 
 " I thocht I was in heaven, an' about the first body 
 I met was wee Nellie. I didna ken her at first, but 
 
THE GATES AJAR. 
 
 %%\ 
 
 
 him. 
 
 that; 
 
 ;-rod. 
 
 under 
 
 t had 
 clean 
 e did 
 
 had 
 
 and 
 
 riven 
 
 body 
 
 fc, but 
 
 she kent me, an' she was that glad to see me ; an' 
 somehow I wasna the least feared. An' she asked 
 me if I would come an' see her mansion, an* she 
 took me into a beautiful room, an* — but I couldna 
 lay'd off till ye, so I'll no try't — an' I asked her 
 wha gied her't, an' I never saw onything as bonnie 
 as her face, or heard onything as sweet as her voice, 
 as she said, * Jesus ! Dan, come away an* see Him ! ' 
 ' No,' said I, * Nellie ; He's no' for the like o' me.' 
 If ye had seen her face when she said, * But He is, 
 Dan, He is ; He likes you better than a' the gold 
 in a' the world.' Then she said, 'I'll let ye see 
 mamma's mansion.' It was as bonnie as Nellie's, but 
 it was a' hung round wi' pictures, an' Mrs. Barrie was 
 in them a', an' aye some ither wi' her — whiles ane, 
 Nellie, or maybe Mr. Barrie, an* whiles folk I ken, 
 besides folk I dinna ken; but she was aye in the 
 middle o' the picture. An' there was ane wi* mysel' an' 
 her in't, an' it was something like the 'Angel's Whisper/ 
 — but the angels were awfu* like her tae. 
 
 " An* Nellie showed me your mansion, Bell, an* it was 
 braw, an* fu' o' bonnie pictures just like Mrs. Barrie's ; 
 an' I was in some o' them tae. An* I noticed that ye 
 had on your everyday working claes — your very com- 
 monest, and hardly ever on your Sabbath claes at a*. 
 
 " Weel, Nellie said to me, * Come an' see your 
 
f 
 
 i 
 
 2:^2 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 mansion, Dan.' I was kind o' terrified, but she could 
 mak' me do anything she likit. Weel, we went to 
 what she ca'd my mansion, an' the pictures round it 
 were fearsome to look at, an* I was in the middle o' 
 ©very ane ; an' there was ane where there were angels 
 very like Mrs. Barrie, an' Mr. Barrie, an' you, speaking 
 to me, an' lookin* at me, an' pointin' up, — an' I lookit 
 up. 
 
 " I was sae much ta'en up wi' the pictures, I didna 
 notice that Nellie had gaen out ; but when I saw Mrs. 
 Barrie an' you pointin' up in the picture, I lookit up, 
 an* in a moment Nellie comes in an* says, 'Here's 
 Jesus ;' an' all at once the pictures vanished, an* the 
 walls were as clean an' white as the driven snaw, an' 
 there was only one picture left, an* that was Jesus. 
 An' somehow He didna fear me till He cam' out o' the 
 picture an* showed me His hands, an* there were marks 
 in the very middle o' them, like as if nails had once 
 been driven through them ; an* he was gaun to lay His 
 hands on me when I wakened ; — and it's been in my 
 head ever since, but I didna like to tell aboot it. D'ye 
 think it means that I shouldna wear yon fine claes ? 
 or what d*ye think ?" 
 
 Need I say that Bell ^/ao greatly struck with the 
 dream, and did what she could to press home the 
 lesson it so clearly taught ? But Dan said, '' Oh, but^ 
 
 
NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND. 
 
 223 
 
 ould 
 
 it to 
 
 id it 
 
 lleo' 
 
 Dgela 
 
 iking 
 
 ookit 
 
 didna 
 Mrs. 
 
 it up, 
 
 Here's 
 
 .n' the 
 
 tw, an* 
 
 Jesus. 
 0' the 
 marks 
 once 
 ly His 
 in my 
 D'ye 
 claes ? 
 
 th the 
 le the 
 >h.buti 
 
 Bell, mind He didna lay hands on me ; but that was 
 maybe my blame, for I started back. But I'm glad 
 I've tell't you, an' ye can tell Mrs. Barrie if you like." 
 
 Bell did so. And although Dan. was not much 
 changed outwardly, he liked to speak to Bell about 
 good things, and gave over sundry bad habits, and 
 went to Mr. Walker's kirk ; although, poor man, he 
 knew so little about the service, that when Mr. Walker 
 said at the end of his sermon, " I will conclude by," 
 Dan set off, supposing that all would follow very soon, 
 and he was astonished to find that the folk took so 
 long to come home from the church that day. Gene- 
 rally his wonder had been, " Are they oot a'ready ?" 
 as Sunday forenoon had been a great day for Watty 
 and his cronies meeting in Dan's house and garden for 
 a crack on bull-dogs, game-cocks, and sporting matters. 
 But they piid this respect to religion, that they did 
 not start for Dan's until the church was " in," and left 
 so as to be home before the church was out. 
 
 Dan gave up keeping game fowls, but stuck to his 
 other favourites, and became a quieter man ; but I will 
 not enter further into his state of mind than say that. 
 I believe he attended the parish church, and I was 
 told that some time after the dream, but I cannot say 
 as to the precise date, he tried to put himself in the 
 way of Mr. Scott of Babbie's MilL 
 
I 
 
 324 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 Mr. Scott stared to see Dan, and spoke rudely to 
 him. Dan waited till he was done, and then said, 
 ** Mr. Scott, there's a slap in your hedge, an' the 
 sheep's among the corn. I've driven them out, and 
 stappit [pushed] in a bush, but if ye've ony stabs or 
 palings I'll mend it for ye in a crack." 
 
 " I want nane 0' yer mendings." 
 
 " Aweel," said Dan, " I see ye're angry ; and I can 
 only say, Mr. Scott, if yell no* be friends, dinna blame 
 me. I own I spoke sair till ye, but was you no' first 
 in the fault ? I'm no' seeking onything frae ye, but 
 as I'm an auld man I want to die in peace wi' my 
 neibours, so I ax yer pardon, and gude day." 
 
 *' Die in peace ! — ye'll die in a jail, or no' unlikel;^ 
 on a gallows ! " said the miller. 
 
 "Maybe," said Dan, "but Mr. Walker was tellin' 
 us on Sabbath about a deein' thief, an' he was made a* 
 richt as he was deein'; an' maybe Him that helpit him 
 will help me." 
 
 * Dan," said the miller in astonishment, " are you 
 gaun to the lark noo ?" 
 
 "Ay," said Dan,-—" whiles." 
 
 " Weel, Dan, ye seem to make a better use 0* the 
 kirk than I dae ; and as ye was saying, well let by- 
 ganes be byganes. And thank ye about the sheep." 
 
 " Awed," replied Dan, " Mr. Walker whiles speaks 
 
THE PIPE OF PEACE. 
 
 225 
 
 ly to 
 said, 
 ' the 
 , and 
 kbs or 
 
 I can 
 
 blame 
 o' first 
 5^e, but 
 wri' my 
 
 nlikely 
 
 tellin' 
 lade a' 
 )it him 
 
 re you 
 
 o' the 
 let by- 
 |eep." 
 
 speakia 
 
 about lost sheep, and I thocht as I saw yours amang 
 the com, that the sooner our slaps [gaps] are filled up 
 the better for ourselves and for the sheep, for some o* 
 them seemed swalled [swollen]." 
 
 The miller and Dan started with the requisites, 
 mended the slap, looked at the sheep, smoked a quiet 
 pipe, and parted. 
 
 " That cowes [beats] a*," said the miller. 
 
 ** The canny way's the best way, after a',** said Daa 
 
 Colonel Gordon was spending part of the summer 
 with Mr. Kirkwood, and they called at Knowe Park. 
 The Colonel's relationship to Mrs. Barrie was clearly 
 established; and a piano, and some other marks of kind- 
 ness on the Colonel's part, were sent from Edinburgh 
 shortly thereafter. But unfortunately Bell was not in 
 when the gentlemen called, greatly to Mr. Kirkwood's 
 regret, and their visit had been a short one. 
 
 Colonel Gordon was in indifferent health, and Mr 
 Kirkwood would not allow him to exert or excite him- 
 self in any way, so that Bell's " castle in the air " was 
 as hazy as ever ; and as neither Mr. nor Mrs. Barrie had 
 thought much on the matter, the presents were taken as 
 tokens of goodwill, and politely acknowledged as such, 
 but they formed no ground in their minds of any, far 
 less of such great expectations as they did in Bell's. 
 
2a6 
 
 BITS FROM BUNKBONNY, 
 
 The social element in religion was greatly promoted 
 by the soirees and meetings of that nature held in con- 
 nection with the Free Church. Mr. Barrie used to tell 
 of Mr. Taylor's usual welcome when he dropped in of an 
 evening: "Come away, Mr. Barrie, ye'll spend an hour 
 wi* us. There's a great deal o' religion in sociality, an* 
 there's far ower little sociality in our religion — for 
 that's what I think is the ' communion of saints,' it's 
 just sociality — gude neihourship, as far as our firesides 
 are concerned." 
 
 At one of our soirees — I think it was in 1850 — 
 Sir John M'Lelland suddenly appeared in the Free 
 Church lobby. Dr. Guthrie was one of the speakers, 
 and the church was crammed. Some young men 
 acted as ticket-collectors and stewards at the door, 
 and they had been so anxious to lose nothing of 
 the speeches, that they did not even look round in 
 reply to Sir John's question, "Could you find room 
 for me ?" 
 
 " Have you a ticket % " was the reply. 
 
 " A ticket I What sort of ticket ? I've no ticket,** 
 said Sir John. 
 
 ** Weel, there are no bags left, and there's no room 
 in the church, so you cannot get in." 
 
 This was said without the speaker's even turning 
 round to see to whom he was speaking. Luckily, 
 
 i 
 
 \ 
 
 aKMt»tjLi.^.i f^ 
 
LOOK BEFORE YOU LEAP. 
 
 327 
 
 one of the deacons observed Sir John, who said to him, 
 " Can I not get in ? This young man here spoke 
 to me about some bag and ticket, and said I could 
 not get ia" 
 
 " Stupid fellow ! — beg pardon ! — please come this 
 way," was the reply. 
 
 When the poor steward looked round he was ho 
 utterly ashamed of himself that he stood speechless. 
 He "catch't it" from the other stewards, and his 
 evening's enjoyment was spoiled. 
 
 Sir John was shown into the vestry, and when the 
 speaker for the time had concluded, he came to the 
 platform. 
 
 The surprise at his appearance added to the warm- 
 ness of his reception. It seemed as if the audience 
 could not cease their expressions of delight When 
 silence was restored, Mr. Barrie announced Dr. Guthrie 
 as the next speaker. 
 
 Sir John instantly rose and asked to be allowed to 
 say a few words. He first told the story of the 
 children and Dr. Guthrie at the post-ofHce, which 
 made Kennedy the tailor spring first on to the seat, 
 then stand astride on two seats, and wave his Turkey- 
 red and white spotted cotton handkerchief so excitedly, 
 and cheer so loudly, that he had to be taken down 
 almost by loroo. 
 
328 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 After Kennedy was quiet. Sir John said, " I spoke 
 to Mr. Barrie and several of this audience at the time 
 of the Disruption in a way that I now regret. My 
 language was unguarded and unwise. I do not state 
 my present opinions ; but I then made publicly some 
 very strong statements which I now wish as publicly 
 to withdraw. Mr. Barrie, and hundreds of ministers 
 besides him, acted like truly Christian heroes, and 
 carried out their conscientious convictions in most 
 difficult and trying circumstances. I honour them for 
 it But," turning to the audience, " I honour you, and 
 those who form the membership of the Free Church of 
 Scotland, for the noble, and liberal, and high-toned 
 manner in which you have recognised this heroism, 
 and carried forward so triumphantly the cause for 
 which they contended. The Free Church is in my 
 opinion, in Scotland, the event of the century, and I 
 can hardly conceive that a more noble testimony to 
 principle could have been possible in any other country 
 in the world." 
 
 Then turning to Dr. Guthrie, he asked to be excused 
 for almost interrupting him ; and to the audience for 
 trespassing on their patience when such a speaker as 
 Dr. Guthrie was to follow him. 
 
 Dr. Guthrie shook hands long and warmly with Sir 
 John, and they had plenty of time ; and when Dr. 
 
 f 
 
THE ANGEVS WHISPER. 
 
 329 
 
 lused 
 
 for 
 
 $r as 
 
 Sir 
 Dr. 
 
 Guthrie did speak, it was with a "forty parson" 
 power. He excelled himself, enchained his audience, 
 and that soiree is a "red-letter" day in Blinkbonny 
 Free Church annals. 
 
 Bell said it was "awfu* splendid," — "just mag- 
 nificent," — "it beat everything," — "she just could- 
 na say what it wasna, — ^it was 'maist awfu', awfu' 
 splendid I " 
 
 THE ANGEL'S WHISPER. 
 
 By Samukl Lover. 
 
 A miperstition of great beauty prevails in Ireland, that when a child 
 imiles in its sleep it is " talking with angels." 
 
 A baby was sleeping, its mother was weeping. 
 
 For her husband was far on the wild raging sea, 
 
 And the tempest was swelling round the fisherman's dwellinj^ 
 
 And she cried, " Dermot, darling, oh, como back to me I ** 
 
 Her beads while she number'd, the baby still slumber'd. 
 And smiled in her face as she bended her knee ; 
 " Oh 1 blest be that warning, my child, thy sleep adorning, 
 For I know that the angels are whispering with thee. 
 
 And while they are keeping bright watch o'er thy sleeping. 
 Oh 1 pray to them softly, my baby, with me, 
 And say thou wouldst rather they'd watch o'er thy father j 
 For I know that the angels are whispering with thee.** 
 
 The dawn of the morning saw Dermot returning. 
 
 And the wife wept with joy her babe's father to see ; 
 
 And closely caressing her child, with a blessing, 
 
 Said, *' I knew that the angels were whispering with thee.** 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 CHANGES AT KNOWE PAEK. 
 
 "Bnt mony are the nps an* the douns o' life, 
 When the dice*boz o' fate turns tapsalteerie." 
 
 Old SiMg, '* Kate DalrympW 
 
 rilHE Blinkbonny Free Church congregation waa 
 -*- now a strong one, — so strong that a Dorcas 
 Society was added to its other schemes, and piyved 
 of great service to the members as well as to the 
 poor. The choice of Mrs. Clark as convener was a 
 happy one. She became the mainspring of the con- 
 cern ; and faithfully did she inquire into all needful 
 cases, and considerately did she administer the funds, — 
 in some instances so quietly, that several compared 
 the help they received to ** Peter's sheet that was let 
 down from heaven ; " and in not a few cases the assist- 
 ance was all the more welcome because, although it 
 was greatly needed, it would only have been asked as 
 a last resort 
 
 The coUectora had some difficulty in getting the 
 
SILENCE IS GOLDEN. 
 
 «3i 
 
 
 the 
 
 Dorcas Society started. One of them — a Miss Rox- 
 burgh — asked a subscription for this purpose from 
 Mr. Skinner, a well-to-do and successful man. 
 
 " A what kind of society do you call it, — a Dorcas 
 Society ? What in all the world's that ? " said he. 
 
 "It's to provide clothing and coals for the poor." 
 
 "Then why do you not call it something else than 
 that foreign name Dorcas ? Is it Latin, or French, or 
 wliat is it ? " 
 
 * Oh," said Miss Roxburgh, " it's called after Dorcas, 
 the woman that made garments for the poor. You'll 
 remember i,f her, — Tabitha or Dorcas ? " 
 
 " Not I. I never even heard of her name before, — 
 Tabby or Dorcas, or whatever you call her. Where 
 did you fall in with her ? I am certain it was not in 
 the Bible," said Mr. Skinner firmly. 
 
 "Hoots, ye're forgetting," said Miss Roxburgh. 
 " It's in the Acts of the Apostlea We read that she 
 died, and they sent for Peter; and when the poor 
 widows showed him the clothes she had made for 
 thom, he prayed, and she was brought to life again." 
 ' "\ read the Bible as well as you," replied Mr. 
 Skinner, "and I never either heard or read of any 
 Bush woman. It's not in the Acts, I'm certain. 
 However, as the object is a good one, there's a pound 
 to you ; but for any favour give your society a decent 
 
ri. 
 
 232 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONMY. 
 
 H 
 
 name, for nobody will understand what Dorcas means. 
 
 Dorcas ! there is not such a person in all the Bible." 
 
 After the first year the society ceased to be a Free 
 
 Church scheme and became a village one; but Mrs. 
 
 Clark was continued at the head of it She made it 
 
 a matter of conscience, — stuck to the principle of 
 
 helping nobody that had others — especially a " man " — 
 
 that could work for them. The distribution of coals 
 
 was to her a matter of first concern in the early 
 
 winter; and, like Job, she could say, "The cause 
 
 which I knew not I searched out," until the receivers 
 
 came to speak of them as "Mrs. Clark's coals." I 
 
 commend this "bit" to what an old elder used to 
 
 call " my female brethren," and am convinced if they 
 
 go and do likewise they will in no wise lose their 
 
 reward. 
 
 *' 'Twas to share wi' the needfu* our hlessin's were gi'en, 
 And the friend o' the pair never wanted a frien'." 
 
 Mr. Barrie had some trouble over what was known 
 as the " Morisouian " controversy. I will not enter 
 on the question itself. It turned on the decrees of 
 election, predestination, and what are known as the 
 Calvinistic doctrines. 
 
 George Hunter, a weaver, who had imbibed the 
 Morisonian ideas, had a considerable power of putting 
 the knotty points in a light which made the Calvinistic 
 
 1^. 
 
' 
 
 ''FOOLS RUSH IN." 
 
 m 
 
 » 
 
 (own 
 Inter 
 
 1 « 
 
 is of 
 the 
 
 the 
 bing 
 Istic 
 
 theory appear very monstrous, and he thought he 
 could easily corner Mr. Barrie. George at length got 
 what he had anxiously longed for, viz. a chance to 
 fire ofif the cleverly worded sentences he had elaborated 
 on the subject. Mr. Barrie, in reply, quietly stated 
 the doctrine as given in the Confession of Faith, and 
 quoted the Apostle Paul as his authority. 
 
 " But that's where me an* Paul differs," said George. 
 
 " What ! " said Mr. Barrie, " that's where Paul and 
 you differ '{ Do you not consider the Apostle Paul as 
 an absolute and indisputable authority ? " 
 
 "Weel," said George, "hardly; for I believe that 
 Paul was wrang when he said that.** 
 
 " Paul wrong ! " said ^^r. Barrie. " Your faith in 
 yourself is certainly great, but you will excuse me 
 for preferring Paul's authority not only before yours, 
 but to the exclusion of all others," and thus closed 
 the interview. 
 
 In the early summer of 1851, Colonel Gordon again 
 came to reside with Mr. Kirkwood, near Blinkbonny ; 
 8Tid although still an invalid, he was stronger and 
 more cheerful. He had brought with him an invalid's 
 chair, on which he could be wheeled about, and Dan 
 was employed to push it. When Colonel Gordon first 
 saw Dan he took a long, inquiring look at him, as if 
 the face was not altogether an unknown one \ but he 
 
f 
 
 S34 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 
 said nothing, as he thought it likely that he must 
 have seen him when in Blinkbonny last year. Knowe 
 Park became the Colonel's favourite destination in his 
 airings. This may have been at first brought about 
 by a little management on Dan's part; but the old 
 soldier soon grew so fond of the children, that every 
 day when the weather admitted of his getting out, he 
 landed there. 
 
 Bell liked ti- Jol .el for his own sake. He was a 
 fine type of the old Inr iwn military man, — courteous, 
 interesting, and still handsome despite his advanced 
 years. Generally she had some tasty soup or other 
 slight refreshment ready for him, which he thoroughly 
 enjoyed ; and he told Mrs. Barrie that her cook did 
 more to make him well than the doctor. « 
 
 Mr. Kirkwood often referred to Bell's potato-soup 
 in terms which the Colonel thought absurdly high. 
 On one of his visits, little Gordie asked him if he 
 wonld like to see the new chickens. The boy's 
 beaming face interested him, and he said, 
 
 " Certainly ; will you take me to see them ? " 
 
 Gordie, trained as he had been by Bell not to disturb 
 her feathered friends, said timidly, "I think Bell would 
 let you see them, but she'll not let me touch them." 
 
 Bell was only too glad. Dan wheeled the Colonel 
 to the spot near the outhouses where the ''birdies* 
 

 KIND ECHOES. 
 
 835 
 
 high, 
 if he 
 boy's 
 
 n 
 
 ^ 
 
 wera It was some time beforo he could so far relax 
 his old Indian notions about servants as to speak to 
 Bell ; but she was so attentive and so respectful that 
 he gradually got into familiar conversation with her, 
 and even referred to Mr. Kirkwood's constant praise of 
 her potato-soup. 
 
 Bell, whilst keeping her proper distance, so tho- 
 roughly won his respect that he thanked her for the 
 kind way in which she had studied to have something 
 tasty for him, and complimented her on er cookery. 
 
 " I'm glad to do all in my power fo^ M».i. Barrie's 
 friend," said Bell, "for she's been a kind mistress to 
 me ; an' although no' rich in one respeo , she has the 
 best o' a' kind o' riches, for she iias a' Martha's 
 briskness an' a' Mary's meekness. As to the pitattie- 
 soup, it was just what was gaun that day; but if 
 Maister Kirkwood wad — as he's sae fond o' Scotch 
 dishes — come here till his dinner some day, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Barrie wad be glad to see him wi' you, sir, — but 
 dinna say I said it, — and I wad try to let him taste 
 some o' the things he spoke o' the first day he was 
 here." 
 
 "Mr. Kirkwood would be delighted, I know: he 
 often speaks about these things, — oftener than I care 
 about, for when he begins there's no stopping of him," 
 said the Colonel. 
 
»3^ 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBOANY. 
 
 
 4 
 
 "Well, sir, beggin* your pardon for bein* sae- pre- 
 suminV* said Bell, " if ye'll tell me what he likes best, 
 if it's a plain auld Scotch dish, I'll try to mak' it sae 
 that it'll at least bring Mr. Kirkwood in mind, as he 
 says, o* auld langsyne; for a' our deuners here are 
 auld-fashioned hamely fare." 
 
 " Really I could not choose for him. What do you 
 think would be suitable yourself? For I begin to 
 relish the idea of seeing him sit down to a really 
 Scotch dinner, — he so often speaks of it. It would 
 be quite a treat to me." 
 
 "Oh," said Bell thoughtfully, "let me see, — ^he's 
 tried our potato-soup, bat there's ' cockie-leekie,* an* 
 green pea soup, an' ' hotch-potch ; * and for aft^r that 
 "a haggis an' collops, or a singed sheep's head; an' 
 after that pancakes, an' rhubarb wi' some o' Daisy's 
 cream." 
 
 Here Bell was interrupted and almost startled by 
 Mr. Kirkwood's appearance and voice. He had come 
 to call, but seeing the gathering at the outhouses, he 
 walked very quietly forward and had overheard Bell's 
 last sentence. 
 
 "Cockie-leekie!" said he; "splendid! Sheep's 
 head broth ! — glorious ! I had forgotten it. Haggis 
 and pancakes ! — magnificent ! Collops, and what more 
 did you say?" Then turning to Colonel Gordon, 
 
THE COMMISSARIAT. 
 
 237 
 
 )• pre- 
 } best, 
 it sae 
 as he 
 re are 
 
 lo you 
 
 gin to 
 
 really 
 
 would 
 
 ,— lie's . 
 ,ie, an 
 er that 
 .d; an' 
 Daisy's 
 
 led by 
 i come 
 ses, he 
 Bell's 
 
 Jheep's 
 iHaggis 
 lit more 
 lordon, 
 
 " You laughed at me for praising the potato-soup, and 
 here you are getting a whole catalogue of dishes. I 
 can only say that you're vastly better lately if you are 
 the length of dining on such fare." 
 
 " It was for you, Mr. Kirkwood, that I was catering, 
 not for myself," replied the Colonel ; " and we must 
 see Mrs. Barrie about the matter first." 
 
 Mr. Kirkwood found occasion, on their way to the 
 house, twice or thrice to turn round and speak to 
 Bell (who followed at a respectful distance) about 
 some old-fashioned dishes, until Colonel Gordon 
 said: ''l^^ 
 
 " Eeally, Kirkwood, don't bother my good friend c^ 
 with such questions. You speak as if your fortune^ 
 depended on them. Don't make so much of yo 
 lower nature." 
 
 " It's not that so much as old associations," said 
 Mr. Kirkwood; "but if you had come into a house 
 on a cold day and got the potato-soup that I " — 
 
 " Stop, Kirkwood, please ! Do stop, — I've heard it 
 fifty times," replied the Colonel. 
 
 When the gentlemen got into the dining-room, they 
 felt at a loss how to invite themselves ; but Oordie, on 
 whose shoulder Colonel Gordon steadied himself when 
 entering the house, did it for them by saying : 
 
 " Mamma, Mr. Kirkwood 's coming here to din net 
 
^38 
 
 BITS FROM BUNKBONNY. 
 
 some day, and Bell is going to make pancakes and 
 nice, nice things for t^ aUr 
 
 ** We'll be delighted to see you, gentlemen," said 
 Mrs. Barrie, with a very slight bow to each, "any day 
 that will be most convenient." Tuesday week was 
 fixed. 
 
 Mr. Kirkwood brought with him some champagne 
 of a special vintage, it being the only stimulant 
 Colonel Gordon was allowed to take, and sent it 
 quietly by Dan to BelL She, busy with her own 
 special work, looked at the bottles, and as she had 
 not had champagne in hand before, she said to 
 Dan: 
 
 "Take that gold oflf the cork an' that string, an* 
 ril draw't, an' pit it into a crystal bottle to be 
 ready." 
 
 Alas ! the cork flew into Bell's face, half the wine 
 was spilt, and she said shai-ply : 
 
 ** Let them draw the next that likes, I'll no' fash 
 wi't" Thereafter Mr. Kirkwood became his own 
 butler for the day. 
 
 He was carried away by the cockie-leekie; to 
 which, at his own request, he was helped three times. 
 Everything else, especially the pancakes, increased his 
 delight The others axound the table enjoyed his 
 immense satisfaction as much as they did the dinner. 
 
THE CORRIDORS OF TIME, 
 
 239 
 
 8 and 
 
 " said 
 ly day ' 
 k was 
 
 ipagne 
 uulant 
 ;ent it 
 r own 
 le bad 
 lid to 
 
 ag, an' 
 to be 
 
 e wine 
 
 0' f asb 
 own 
 
 iO; to 
 times, 
 ed bis 
 id bis 
 inner, 
 
 wbicb, at least in Gordie's case, is saying a very great 
 deal 
 
 Mr. Kirkwood walked alongside of Colonel Gordon's 
 cbair as they went homewards, — Dan, of course, 
 acting as propeller. When they had reached a high 
 part of the road, they halted to enjoy the scene and 
 the cool evening air. Colonel Gordon looked at Dan, 
 who was wiping his brow, and observing a scar on 
 bis temples, he said : 
 
 " I've surely seen you long ago ; it's like a dream 
 to me, but was it not you that brought me a letter 
 from my brother, many, many years since, when I was 
 sailing for India ? You had a patch )ver your brow, 
 and you told me you bad bad your eye hurt" 
 
 Dan started and said : " Please, sir, are you a brother 
 of the Duke 0' Gordon's, — toots, I beg your pardon, — 
 Kenneth Gordon's ? " 
 
 " I am," said the ColoneL " I see now it was you 
 that brought the letter. I was sure I knew you. 
 Poor Kenneth, be was a daring feUow. Did you 
 know him well ? " 
 
 ** I was one o' bis oarsmen," said Dan, " but I hae- 
 na seen bim since the day be gied me the letter to 
 gi'e to you — that was the day after be bid the brandy 
 an' the tobacco in Mr. Gordon o' the Granaries' 
 cellar, tbii:ikin' be could get it out next nicht; but 
 
 
 % 
 
 M 
 
 a if 
 
M 
 
 240 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 I 
 
 jf 
 
 the gaugers got scent o't, and it took us a' oor time to 
 get off frae Dumbarton. It was then that I lost my 
 e'e." 
 
 " Brandy ! — tobacco ! — excisemen after him ! " said 
 Colonel Gordon, evidently under great excitement 
 " Gordon of the Granaries* cellar ! — are you in earnest ? 
 I'm perfectly stunned. On your life, tell me every- 
 thing you know about this matter." 
 
 Dan did so, and pulling from the inside of his vest 
 an old pocket-book, he showed a bit of dingy paper 
 with some hieroglyphics on it that none but the 
 initiated could decipher. 
 
 " Ye understand, sir, the smugglers that I rowed 
 the boat for had lots o' hidin'-places for their stuff, an* 
 this was one o* the books they keepit. There, now, — 
 that anchor wi' the five twists 0' rope round it, means 
 five kegs o* brandy ; that R K inside 0* the rope, 
 means Roseneath kirkyard ; that's your brither's mark, 
 B Y D and a drawing 0* a ' boyn * or tub, — it was 
 something about the Duke 0' Gordon in the north 
 country." 
 
 " Yes," said the Colonel quickly, " Bydand is part 
 of the Gordon crest, and Aboyne their castle ; — but go 
 on. 
 
 " Weel, here's for Gordon 0* the Granaries ; — a castle, 
 that's Dunibai'toQ ; — a granary wi' a G, that's Gordon's 
 
time to 
 lost my 
 
 (1 ! " said 
 jitement 
 earnest 1 
 le every- 
 
 his vest 
 
 gy paper 
 
 but the 
 
 I rowed 
 stuff, an* 
 ), now, — 
 it, means 
 I the rope, 
 sr's mark, 
 I — it was 
 the north 
 
 d is part 
 I; — but go 
 
 -a castle, 
 Gordon's 
 
 ** STRANGER Th AN FICTION.' 
 
 241 
 
 place ; an' there's the anchor wi' five twists, an' twa 
 tobacco-pipes made like a five ; and there's the duke's 
 mark. An' that mark's, — beggin' your pardon, Mr. 
 Kirkwood, — Ma'colm Kirkwood's ; — it's a comb, an' a 
 kirk, an* — an' — " Here Dan was interrupted by Mr. 
 Kirkwood saying warmly : 
 
 " A gallows-tree, a wood or ' wuddie,' sure enough, 
 for hanging smugglers on. Both the entries and 
 signatures are very suggestive.** 
 
 " An*," continued Dan, " that mark o* the half- 
 moon on legs wi' the wings on't, means that the vera 
 nicht ony o* the ither companies o' the gang sees't, 
 they're to get the stuff awa' to some ither place 
 immediately, that's markit on the paper, if there's twa 
 marks o' the heid men on't, like what this has, but no' 
 unless. An' I got the book frae your brither, to tak' to 
 anither party o' the smugglers when the hue and cry 
 about the thing blew past For your brither, sir, never 
 thocht the gangers wad find out the stuff in the 
 granaries; but they fand it, an' puir Mr. Gordon had 
 to pay the fine, an' it ruined him ; an' nobody kens till, 
 this day wliac put it there, except mysel' — at least that 
 I ken o'. I left the smugglers for gude an' a' afl(ir 
 that" 
 
 Dan's stoi^, corroborated as it was by the outlandish 
 book of entries, completely unhinged both goutlemen. 
 
 Q 
 
 w 
 
 III 
 
I 
 
 242 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 From Mr. Kirkwood's manner, one would have guessed 
 that the Malcolm Kirkwood had been a relative of 
 his; but of that I can say nothing. With Colonel 
 Gordon it was otherwise. When thdy reached home 
 they got all out of Dan they could, and more than they 
 relished, for his brother's connection with smuggling 
 was new to the Colonel. 
 
 A painful scene took place at Knowe Park next day, 
 when Mrs. Barrie told of her father's trial at the law, 
 the fine, and how it not only drained his purse, but 
 broke his heart 
 
 Colonel Gordon now understood why his brother 
 had written to him so urgently from his dying-bed to 
 be kind to the Gordons of the Granaries, if ever he had 
 the opportunity. He did all that lie now could do to 
 atone for tlie grievous wrong his brother had done to 
 her father, by handing over at once a considerable 
 portion of his means to the family at Knowe Park. 
 
 The Colonel diea a few years after this, and in his 
 will, all that he was possessed of was bequeathed to 
 Mrs. Barrie and her family, burdened with an annuity 
 of fifty pounds a year to Daniel Corbett, and some 
 trifling legacies. 
 
 From the day that Dan had told the smuggling 
 adventure. Colonel Gordon liad l>een kind to him, and 
 every now and again the baul er sent a request to Dan 
 
 
" IVHAT WILL HE DO WITH JT?" 
 
 m 
 
 guessed 
 itive of 
 Colonel 
 id home 
 lan they 
 nug^ling 
 
 next day, 
 , the law, 
 urse, hut 
 
 [8 hrother 
 ing-bed to 
 er he had 
 luld do to 
 [d done to 
 ►nsiderable 
 Park. 
 ,nd in his 
 leathed to 
 n annuity 
 and some 
 
 smuggling 
 
 him, and 
 
 lest to Dan 
 
 to call at the hank for money. Not even going to 
 church put Dan more about than going to the bank ; 
 the stancht3ls of the windows kept his solitary eye 
 busy, and as soon as he put his cross to the receipt, 
 he slunk out, and took a by-road home. 
 
 Where to put the money exercised his mind sad:y. 
 He thought everybody knew he had it. At length he 
 put it under one of the rough flags of the floor, where 
 ** Burke " lay, wrapping it well with old paper, and 
 stuffing it thereafter into an old game-bag. The 
 money contributed little to his personal comfort, but 
 he occasionally helned his poorer neighbours. Bell 
 tried to get something for thfe missionary cause. 
 His answer was barely civil : " Send siller to the 
 niggers! no* very likely!" Dan's nature was a secretive 
 one; few could make anything of him, none much to 
 boast of, for on all emotional subjects he was " cabined, 
 cribbed, confined." 
 
 The Free Church of Blinkbonny heard with mingled 
 feelings, chiefly, I must confess, composed of deep 
 regret, that tlie " Wishart " church in Edinburgh had 
 resolved to call Mr. Barrie to be their pastor. Many 
 of ufl knew that he was highly appreciated in places 
 where he occasionally preached, and that his appear- 
 ances in the synods and assemblies liad brought him 
 into favourable notice; and although we had been 
 
 r 
 
) I 
 
 I 
 
 Ifff 
 
 %x 
 
 344 
 
 B/rS FHOM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 gratified Lo hear strangers express themst.,. «:3 ai 
 iisi^inishcd that he should be allowed to leDinm iv> 
 Blinkbonny, the idea of his really leaving us was 
 never seriously entertained. 
 
 Colonel Gordon's unexpected gift had added very 
 materially to Mr. Barrie's comfort, in as far ai< it ei abled 
 him to do more for the education of his children than 
 the " equal dividend " of the Free Church alone could 
 admit of; and he had tried to prevent a call from 
 coming out in his favour. 
 
 He was, however, overborne by the urgent solicita- 
 tions, not only of the Wishart congregation, but even 
 more so by fathers tind brethren iii the ministry, who 
 pressed him very closely to accept of the call ♦^.o Edin- 
 burgh. Mrs. Barrie, on whose judgment ho relied 
 more implicitly than on all others put together, de- 
 clined to express any opinion on this subject She 
 was pleased to see that hev husband's gifts were 
 appreciated, and teit that Ion ;. its to the Church, as 
 well as to her family, were likely to result from his 
 going to Edinburgh. But she liked Blinkbonny, and 
 she had heard of the heavy calls and frequent worries 
 of a city charge ; and as she could not make up her 
 mind which she, would prefer, she remained neutral, 
 although not at all taciturn. 
 
 M: Barrie and she talked the matter fully over, 
 
PRO AND CON. 
 
 US 
 
 mm li' 
 us was 
 
 ed very 
 eiabled 
 ren than 
 ne could 
 all from 
 
 solicita- 
 but eveD 
 Btry, v;ho 
 t,o Edin- 
 relied 
 itlier, de- 
 ict. She 
 its were 
 Ihurch, aa 
 from his 
 ,nny, and 
 ,t worriea 
 |e up her 
 neutral, 
 
 ly over, 
 
 looking at it on all sides, and she entered patiently 
 and minutely into all the ^^os and cons, sometimes 
 considerably to his confusion. For whilst she gave a 
 comprehensive statement of the arguments for going 
 and staying, she did this so evenly that it merely 
 assisted his judgment, but it did not at all influence 
 his decision. 
 
 About this time the " Ecclesiastical Titles Bill " was 
 absorbing public attention, and the Churches in Scot- 
 land entered on a feverish crusade against the Church 
 of Home. The deputation which appeared at the 
 presbytery to prosecute the call to Mr. Barrie dwelt 
 largely on this subject. I have already referred to 
 Mr. Barrie's deeply-rooted aversion to a matter of this 
 kind. On this occasion he spoke out very strongly, 
 much to the surprise, if not to the dissatisfaction, of 
 the Edinburgh representatives. 
 
 He declared it was his conviction that spasmodic 
 agitation of this kind was of no practical use. It 
 oftener resulted in harm than good. There was much 
 in the Romish Church which he disliked and con- 
 demned, but thei-e was also much that he respected, — 
 its zeal, its energy, its stand for liberty and learning 
 in the Dark Ages, and its success in reaching the very 
 poorest and keeping hold of them. Rank injustice 
 yraa often done by ignorant tirade, or exaggerated mi&< 
 
 \ I 
 
 5^ 
 
 i' 
 
y 
 
 it 
 
 I- 
 
 representation of certain tenets. To enter into either 
 an explanation or a refutation, or, worse still, a de- 
 nunciation of Mariolatry, Transubstantiation, etc, to a 
 Protestant audience was unedifying, to say the least of 
 it. If the fiery zeal directed against Popery were 
 applied to preaching and living the gospel, it would 
 be better for the minister, the people, and the world ; 
 and unless he greatly changed his mind, he would not 
 meet the wishes of the deputation in that matter. He, 
 however, reserved his decision till next meeting of 
 presbytery. 
 
 One reverencl Edinburgh brother was present, on 
 whom the no-Popery cry had taken an excessively 
 firm iioid ; it was the only subject which warmed him 
 up at all, but it made him furious, and formed part of 
 every disct/urse he preached, until many of his hearers 
 said, " they couldna sleep in the kirk noo ;" and one 
 of his elders affirmed that " he was aye pop-pop- 
 poperyin' away ; if he pop-poperied mickle mair, I'll 
 no* pop back to hear him." 
 
 Tliis deputy tried to reply to Mr. Barrie, but Mr. 
 Taylor ^^aid " it was like a Dandie Dinmont laying 
 about iiini wi a flail on thrashed straw — plenty o* 
 exercise an' R'onr, but nae wark dune ; muckle cry an' 
 little woo' [wool J, ii£ the," etc. At next meeting of 
 pre&V°tery Ur. Barr<> accepted the call to Edinburgh. 
 
** COMING EVENTS CAST." 
 
 247 
 
 bo eithei 
 U, a de- 
 Btc., to a 
 3 least of 
 jry were 
 it would 
 le world ; 
 vould not 
 ter. He, 
 eeting of 
 
 esent, on 
 
 Kcessively 
 
 rmed him 
 
 d part of 
 
 IS hearers 
 
 ai)d one 
 
 pop-pop- 
 
 mair, I'll 
 
 but Mf. 
 it laying 
 [plenty 0' 
 le cry an' 
 [eeting of 
 ibuigh. 
 
 In contemplating the Edinburgh call, it is possible 
 to conceive that Bell might have been one of Mrs. 
 Barrie's difficulties, for life in a town would not suit 
 her at alL What would she do without Daisy? for 
 so all her cows were named, prefixed in order to dis- 
 tinguish them by the colour of each, so that Bell had 
 had during her stay in Blinkbonny a brown Daisy, a 
 black Daisy, etc, and now she had a ginger Daisy. 
 Could she do without the garden, and especially the 
 hens ? No. 
 
 But Bell had been rather a thought to Mrs. Barrie 
 for some time past. Not that she had failed or flagged — 
 she was as " eident " [industrious], honest, and excellent 
 as ever ; but Mrs. Barrie had observed, that after the 
 meetings of the elders at the manse were over, David 
 Tait of Blackbrae took the kitchen lobby, not the front 
 door one, as the others did ; and she also noticed, after 
 this had gone on for a while, tliat if any of the other 
 elders took the same road. Bell did not talk with them 
 eo much as she used to do, but found some sudden 
 engagement outside the manse, and that David and she 
 generally re-entered the kitchen together, as soon as 
 the others were fairly on tlieir way. 
 
 David had a small farm about a mile and a half 
 from Blinkbonny. His widowed mother had died lately. 
 He was a canny, intelligent man, in good worldly 
 
 ^ 
 
 ill 
 
 HI 
 
 u 
 
 
 11 
 
 r i 
 
 ! ( 
 
 ■i|t 
 
348 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 
 circumstances, or, to use the Scotch phrase, ** a bien 
 man, but very blate [diffident]." 
 
 Betwixt Mrs. Barrie and Bell there were no secrets, 
 and she often asked Bell if Mr. Tait and she were 
 making any progress in the way of marriage. " None 
 whatever," was Bell's general reply. " He's a nice man 
 an' a gude cracker, but he never ' evened ' [hinted at] 
 marriage to me." 
 
 One day Bell told Mrs. Barrie, with a gleeful face 
 that bvBlied her words, " that David \sA met wi' a 
 queer misfortune." 
 
 " I'm sorry for that, Bell; what has happened ? You 
 seem to laugh rather than lament over it," said Mrs. 
 Barrie, with evident concern. 
 
 " Oh, mem, it's a kind o' laughable tae," said BelL 
 " Last Sabbath day he was takin' a lesson on the Bible 
 before he cam' to the kirk, an' as it's late afore he gets 
 hame, \k^. was eatin' a bit piece ; it was a warm mornin', 
 an' he was sittin' on a seat in front o' his hoose. 
 Weel, ane o' the calves got out o' the pen, an' he lays 
 down his Bible an' his piece, an' gangs to put in the 
 calf There was a soo gaun about the close" [farm-court], 
 an' it snappit up David's piece that was lying on the 
 Bible ; and it not only took the piece, but it ate a' the 
 Second Corinthians and a gude deal o' the First. He's 
 very ill about it; he's baith vexed an' affrontit about it" 
 
*'A FfilENDLY hitch:' 
 
 S0 
 
 "a bien 
 
 \ secrets, 
 ihe were 
 " None 
 nice man 
 Inted at] 
 
 leful face 
 let wi' a 
 
 jd? You 
 said Mrs. 
 
 jaid Bea 
 ithe Bible 
 re be gets 
 mornin', 
 lis boose. 
 i' be lays 
 it in tbe 
 :m-court], 
 12 on tbe 
 late a* tbe 
 rst. He's 
 labout it" 
 
 " It was very provoking," said Mrs. Barrie ; " the 
 sooner you become mistress of Blackbrae the better." 
 
 Mrs. Barrie bad hitherto spoken to Bell about 
 David's attentions more in joke than in earnest, until 
 she knew that Mr. Barrie had decided to go to Edin- 
 burgh; but as David's visits were becoming more 
 frequent as well as longer, without seeming to come to 
 anything definite, she resolved to give her two worthy 
 friends a little help. One night, when David was in 
 the kitchen, Mrs. Barrie went "ben" and said, after 
 the usual courtesies had been exchanged : " Mr. Tait^ 
 \ see that you are going to take Bell away to Black- 
 brae, reason or none, and I wish you much joy ; a wife 
 like Bell's a prize not to be got every day, and you 
 may consider yourself lucky to have won her. I'll see 
 about another servant to-morrow, although I never 
 expect to get one as good as Bell. You must never 
 think about waiting till the term. Marriages break all 
 terms ; indeed, if you both will take my advice, yoa 
 will be married very soon." 
 
 Bell was quite unprepared for such plain speaking ; 
 her stocking wires went very fast, and she did not 
 know where to look, Mrs. Barrie then turned to her 
 and said : 
 
 " Bell, get everything ready as soon as ever you can, 
 80 that we may come once or twice to see you after 
 
 V'»'J 
 
 
 1 
 
IT 
 
 250 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 IIP 
 
 I 
 
 you are fairly settled at Blackbrae, before the long 
 autumn nights set in." And she added, what had never 
 been said by her before : " You need not come in to 
 worship to-night, Bell, as you two will have a very 
 great deal to speak about So good night, and good 
 speed to you both." 
 
 If they had a good deal to say, they were very long 
 of beginning. Bell's wires went faster than ever — they 
 actually made a clicking sound , and her heart went even 
 faster than her wires. But David's honest heart went 
 faster than either; he looked sideways, then downwards, 
 and fidgeted, for his 
 
 " Heart it went dunt upon dunt, 
 Till he thocht every dunt it wad crack T;.* 
 
 At length he said, " I'm a' sweatin'," which was a 
 mild way of putting it, for he was glowing and 
 tingling from head to foot. 
 
 Bell looked fixedly, stolidly, at the stocking she 
 was knitting, but she uttered not a word. 
 
 At length David summo^ipd courage to say : 
 
 " Will Mrs. Barrie really gang after anither servant 
 the mom, d'ye think, Bell?" 
 
 " She's a woman o' her word ; she aye does what 
 she says." 
 
 " Weel, Bell," said David with a sigh. 
 
 •Weel, David," said Bell sympathetically. 
 
he long 
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 was an irregular fragment of a larger one stuck on the 
 facing of the window) during that time than she had 
 done for twelve months before, and her cap or 
 " mutch " was something extra even for her. As each 
 evening fell she looked often and wistfully up the 
 Blackbrae Eoad. After ten days had passed she felt 
 a little nervous, and put herself in Dan's way, to ask 
 him, after some leading questions, if he had been at 
 Blackbrae latelv. She had still to wait other three 
 days as best she could, but at the fortnight's end 
 ** The braw wooer cam' doun the lang glen." 
 
 Both were " blata" Other subjects were tried and 
 skimmed over, but the subject was not broached. Had 
 it not been for a noise in the lobby caused by Mrs. 
 Barrie's going up-stairs, it might have lain another 
 fortnight or more before any progress had been made ; 
 but fearing that she would come into the kitchen after 
 she came down-stairs, David blurted out hurriedly: 
 
 " Bell, Bell, have ye been thinkin' on yon ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Bell, with considerable modulation 
 of voice. 
 
 " An' I do most sincerely hope ye'U say yes," said 
 David warmly ; " I canna see for the life o* me how 
 ever we can face Mrs. Barrie till it's a* settled." 
 
 Bell had carefully composed what she thought a 
 proper answer, and during the fortnight she had 
 
**SHE GIED HIM HER HAND," ETC. 
 
 aS3 
 
 I 
 
 a the 
 i had 
 p or 
 1 each 
 p the 
 le felt 
 bo ask 
 ien at 
 three 
 
 i 
 
 }d and 
 . Had 
 )y Mrs. 
 mother 
 
 made ; 
 m after 
 
 ily; 
 
 "lulation 
 
 [s," said 
 ne how 
 
 )ught a 
 
 le 
 
 had 
 
 repeated it " a hunder " times to herself ; hut when it 
 was wanted it would neither come into her head nor 
 to her tongue. She was greatly annoyed, indeed 
 ashamed, at herself for this, but her honest heart and 
 he^ good sense came to her help, and guided by them 
 she made a far better reply than the one she had 
 hoarded so long and lost so suddenly ; for she rose, 
 gave David her hand, and said : 
 
 " David, there's my hand, an* my heart gang's wi't ; 
 they're baith yours," solemnly looking him straight in 
 the face. He smiled, and then of course she smiled, 
 and turning away her face, for she was blushing 
 crimson, she added : " Eh, sirs, I never wad a thocht 
 — wha ever wad a thocht o* me being marrit ? David, 
 isna the ways o' Providence strange an* mysterious ? " 
 
 "'Deed ay, Bell; but arena they whiles real 
 pleasant tae ? " 
 
 " Ye may say that, David, for I've liked ye lang, 
 an' wonder't if ever it wad come to this; an' oh, 
 David, I CAN lippen till ye perfectly wi' a' my heart." 
 
 " That's the way to speak, Bell ; that's wiselike. I'll 
 dae my vera best to make you comfortable." 
 
 " So will I you, David — we'll baith dae our best ; 
 an' if we hae God's blessin' I think we'll dae fine." 
 
 A happier couple could not be found that night than 
 these two, for love makes folks younger if not young. 
 
 I II 
 
 % 
 
«S4 
 
 BITS FROM BLrNfCBOf7NY. 
 
 Shortly after all was settled, David hummed rather 
 than sung, lest he should be heard in the parlour, a 
 favourite song of his, which, whatever we may think 
 of its applicability to what we have hitherto known 
 as a staid, solid woman like Bell, seemed to David 
 "really a very bonnie sang — he was aye catchin* him- 
 sel' sing-singin' at it, an' it really was no' far ofif what 
 he thocht himsel';" and, strange to say, douce Bell 
 (although she said " stufif an' nonsense " when he had 
 finished it) turned a willing ear to the song, and 
 nodded to herself in the looking-glass during the 
 singing of it If she did not apply the whole of it to 
 herself, she evidently did not absolutely discard it all. 
 
 THE BLACK-E'ED LASSIE (by Charles Gkay). 
 Air — My only jo and dearie 0, 
 
 " Wi* heart sincere I love thee. Bell, 
 
 But dinna ye be saucy ! 
 Or a' my love I winna tell 
 
 To thee, my black-e'ed lassie ^ 
 It's no' thy cheeks o' rosy hue, 
 It's no' thy little cherry mou', 
 It's a' because thy heart's sae true^ 
 
 My bonnie black-e'ed lassie { 
 
 ** It's no* the witch glaiice o' thy e'e, 
 
 Though few for that surpass ye O 
 That mak's ye aye sae dear to me, 
 
 My bonnie black-e'ed lassie ! 
 It's no' the whiteness o' thy skin, 
 It's no' love's dimple on thy c!:in, 
 It'a A* thy modest worth within, 
 
 l^y bonnie blaok-e'ad lassie 1 
 
**HA, ffA, THE WOOIN' (TT, 
 
 ass 
 
 rather 
 lour, a 
 
 think 
 known 
 
 David 
 tt' him- 
 fif what 
 ce Bell 
 he had 
 Dg, and 
 ing the 
 
 of it to 
 d it all. 
 
 ** Ye smile sae sweet, ye look «ae kind, 
 
 That a* wish to caress ye I 
 But ! how I admire thy mind, 
 
 My bonnie black-e'ed lassie I 
 I've seen thine e'en, like crystal clear, 
 Shine dimly through soft pity's tear ; 
 These are the charms that mak' thee dear 
 
 To me, my black-e'ed lassie 1 " 
 
 When David had finished the song, Bell said with 
 
 a hroad grin : " I never could sing but the ae sang 
 
 o* the Bonnie, honnie hanks o* Ben Lomond, an' it's 
 
 raither waefu' for the noo ; but there's a verse I 
 
 pickit up frae Gordie — he's gaun to be a grand 
 
 singer, Gordie; I'll miss him, may be — but at ony 
 
 rate the sang's been at my tongue-end for a while. 
 
 an' d'ye ken, David, I think it's you an' me tae a 
 
 nothing? 
 
 ' I Io*ed ne'er a laddie but ane 1 ' , 
 
 that's me, ony way : 
 
 ' He lo'ed ne'er a lassie but me, 
 He's willing to mak' me his ain. 
 And his ain I am willing to be ;' 
 
 that's me tae." 
 
 "That's grand, Bell, that's just exactly the very 
 thing, the very thing, the very thing — that's the ' head- 
 sheaf.' " 
 
 After this trip on " Parnassus," which generally 
 follows immediately after all newly-plighted troths, 
 they settled down t^ a sober crack. David gave a de- 
 
256 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 1! I 
 
 scription of his farm and stock, in which he was often 
 interrupted by Bell's questions ; very practical all of 
 them were, and specially gratifying to David. It was 
 surprising how much she got out of him in a quiet 
 way. But I will not tarry over the details, nor say how 
 loDg they sat, or how they parted ; I will only mention 
 that after David had risen to leave, they stood a long 
 time busily talking. He had said something about 
 getting the. house "gi'en a bit sort up," but Bell 
 said : 
 
 "Dinna fash mickle wi't, David; tradesfolk often 
 tak' a lang time when they won in. When we get 
 settled, we'll dae a' that far better after we see what's 
 what" 
 
 After this night Bell seldom spoke of " 7*11 do this, 
 or / think that," but it was, " WeVL put a' richt — we'M 
 consider't— W// manage *t." 
 
 She did not tell Mrs. Barrie directly of her engage- 
 mentj but it could not be hidden. Bell's face was 
 itself a tell-tale, and before the next forenoon was 
 over she was asking Mrs. Barrie's advice on various 
 subjects far removed at once frora her household 
 concerns, and from anything likely to require her con- 
 sideration as a servant. 
 
 Early in the afternoon Bell asked Mrs. Barrie, with 
 an unusual timidity, almost a sheepishness of manner^ 
 
 y 
 
 w 
 
 tL 
 
** THERE S A' THE PLEASURES 0' THE HEARTS 257 
 
 often 
 11 of 
 
 b was 
 
 quiet 
 
 ,rhow 
 
 jntion 
 
 . long 
 
 about 
 
 i BeU 
 
 : often 
 ve get 
 what's 
 
 lo this, 
 l—^e'll 
 
 mgage- 
 je was 
 m was 
 rarious 
 isehold 
 ler con- 
 
 ^e, with 
 lanner, 
 
 if she would be so kind as to sell her " some 0' the 
 black currants, noo that a' the jam was made for the 
 house?" 
 
 Mrs. Barrie took both Bell's hands in hers, looked 
 into her face with a smile of intense delight, to the 
 dumfounderment [confusion] of poor Bell, who tried in 
 vain to restrain her grins and blushes. 
 
 " Bell, Bell, as you yourself often say, * the cat's out 
 o' the pock ' — fairly out now. Allow me first to give 
 both hands a good shake and wish you very much joy. 
 t'm very, very glad for your sake, my good, kind Bell. 
 May all that's good attend you and Mr. Tait. 1 will 
 have a great deal more to say to you afterwards, but 
 I must run and tell Mr. Barrie." 
 
 "There's somebody wi' him in the study the noo, 
 mem," said Bell ; " an' oh ! if you please, dinna say 
 much to me about this marrying business the day. 
 I'm baith like to laugh and to greet about it yet, an' I 
 canna find words to thank ye wi*, so excuse me." 
 Then, after a short pause: "Will ye sell me the 
 berries, mem?" 
 
 " Sell, Bell ? Sell to you ! M you what's more 
 yours than mine ! If I did not know you well, I 
 would be both vexed and angry at you, but it's hke 
 yourself, BeU. Please never ask me about any such 
 things; take them. I'll help you all I can to get 
 
 i 
 
 ii'llt'j 
 
 ill 
 
 
258 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONJ^y. 
 
 everything ready and purpose-like. As to the black 
 currants, you must allow me to give you the sugar, 
 and be sure and fill every empty jelly-pot in the 
 house." 
 
 " Ye're ower kind, mem, far ower kind." 
 " Bell," said Mrs. Barrie, " don't say that again, for 
 that is what I can never be. But there's Mr. Barrie 
 disengaged now, and I must bring him in," — which 
 she did, and Bell and they got it over, not without 
 some signs of emotion that each tried to hide, but 
 none were ashamed to feel, for the bond of twenty 
 years' faithful service was to them a cord not easily 
 broken, and to Bell a retrospect of intense satisfaction; 
 for a vision of her life-history passed before her, which 
 may be summed up in the following lines : — 
 
 *- An orphan was she, and they had been gude vill her ; 
 Sure that was the thing brocht the tear to her e'e." 
 
black 
 sugar, 
 Q tbe 
 
 tin, for 
 Barrie 
 -which 
 vithout 
 ide, but 
 twenty 
 t easily 
 ;faction; 
 r, which 
 
 CHAPTEPt Xir. 
 
 ANOTHER MARRIAGE AND HOME-COMINa 
 
 " Noo they're crouse and canty baith, 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't," 
 
 Bums. 
 
 rilHE " Forms of Procedure " in the translation of 
 -*- a Scottish Presbyteiian minister are somewhat 
 elaborate, and require a good deal of time for theiv 
 various requirements of intimating, citing and hearing 
 parties, sustaining and transmitting the call, and 
 summoning the congregation to appear to answer 
 the reasons for translation. When the call is pre- 
 sented, time is allowed for the minister's decision ; 
 even after this, there are other steps to be taken, 
 so that should the autumn season intervene, when 
 presbytery meetings are rarely held unless for cases of 
 extreme urgency, several months may elapse between 
 the " call " and the " settlement." 
 
 It was so in Mr. Barrie's case ; but in a small place 
 like Blinkbonny, little things, that would in large 
 towns be " lost in the crowd," are found and founded 
 
 S09 
 
 j '1 
 
■rTurn 
 
 260 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 
 % 
 
 on to an extent much beyond their intrinsic im- 
 portance. This must be my apology for stating that 
 the regret at the prospect of Mr. Barrie's leaving 
 was counterbalanced to a certain extent by the 
 announcement of Bell's approaching marriage. 
 
 Under all ordinary circumstances Bell would have 
 been and was a " fixture," — so much so that for years 
 past she had been universally called Bell Barrie, and 
 the idea that she ever would be married was unborn. 
 Hitherto the Edinburgh call had been looked at 
 entirely in its public aspect as affecting the Free 
 church of Blinkbonny, and little thought had been 
 expended on the private view of the matter. It was 
 taken for granted that the family would remove to 
 Edinburgh ; and Bell had so long been a part of it, as 
 much so, in fact, as either Mr. or Mrs. Barrie, that 
 although she was indirectly included in the feeling of 
 general regret, she did not form a distinct element in 
 the case. 
 
 When, therefore, it becanLe known that she was to 
 be married to David Tait of Blackbrae, I may say 
 without exaggeration that the news was received 
 with heartfelt delight. All who had come much into 
 contact with Bell esteemed her highly, and those 
 who knew her best liked her most. Her unwearied 
 industry, her sterling worth, her kindly charity, her 
 
" GIN A BODY GKEET A BODY:' 
 
 a6i 
 
 ras to 
 ly say 
 ^ceived 
 Ih into 
 those 
 wearied 
 ty, her 
 
 humility and strong common sense, had been quietly 
 appreciated. Indeed, she was so unostentatious and 
 natural, and her good qualities were so universally 
 known, that they were seldom commented on. 
 
 Bell was surprised, and not a little annoyed, at the 
 number of folks who came to congratulate her on her 
 approaching marriage ; it would have pleased her much 
 better had nothing been said about it. 
 • " The place is like a gaun fair," said she to David, 
 ** mornin', noon, an' nicht. I canna get on wi* my 
 wark for folk com in* wishin* me this an* that Nae 
 doubt a body likes to be likit, but no aye to be teird 
 III Mr. Taylor said the best thing, an' he bade nae 
 time ; a' he said was, ' Gi*e me a shake o' your hand. 
 Bell; Tm a wee feared ye'U no' escape the woe/ 
 
 " 'The woe ! ' said I ; ' ^ r. Taylor, what woe ? that's 
 a queer kind o' backin* to tae a gude wish.' 
 
 " * Bell,' said he, * the Bibic says, " Woe unto you 
 when all men shall speak well of you," an' that's what 
 a*body's sayin* o' you the noo.* 
 
 " * I'm maybe no' as grateful as I should be,* says I 
 'but I wish they wadna speak about me at a*, for if 
 they kent me as weel as I ken mysel*, they wadna 
 speak as they dae; as gude auld George Brown used to 
 say, " The best o* men were but men at the best," an* 
 women*s just sic-like. Tve been but an unprofitable 
 
 . \ 
 
 iii 
 
Y 
 
 'I 
 
 v m. 
 
 262 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 servant baith to God an' man, although I think I 
 may say that I've tried to do my best/ 
 
 " Says he, * that's the richt way to tak' thae things. 
 Bell. Hand on ; naebody ever stack in the world but 
 Lot's wife, an' she wad a gotten through fine, if she 
 had held forrit as she was well tell't, an* no lookit 
 back. There's nothing like makin' the shortcomin's 0* 
 the past warnin's, an' the mercies o* the past en- 
 couragements.* " 
 
 " But, Bell,'* said David, " wha d*ye think wished 
 me weel in this matter ? Ye'll never guess — there's 
 mony mair forbye him, but nae less than Sir John 
 M'Lelland came ane's errant to the hoose, an* he did 
 gi'e you a flamin' character. Ae thing he said was, 
 * Scotland's a grand place to dee in, for a'body speaks 
 weel 0' the deid ; but it's the warst place to get marrit 
 in, for if there's a hair to clash about, they'll make a 
 tether o't,* — at least that was his meanin*, if no* the 
 vera words, — an* he said he wad defy mortal to say 
 anything but gude o* you.'* 
 
 "It's because he disna ken ony better; but Tm 
 obleeged till him,** said Bell ; " may we baith be re- 
 speckit by richt thinkin* kind o' folk ; we maun try 
 tae deserve it." 
 
 David continued: "Sir John tell*d me no' an ill 
 story about himsel*. No lang after he was marrit, he 
 
*' MEASURE FOR MEASURE.'* 
 
 263 
 
 took his leddy to see auld Ailsie Ferguson, his henwife. 
 Ailsie beckit [curtsied] an' bowed to the leddy, an* 
 wished her a' that was gude ; then she turned to Sir 
 John an* wished him the same, sayin* that she was 
 blythe to serve such a beautifu*, handsome leddy, only 
 she wad a likit if she had been bigger.** 
 
 " * Bigger ! * said Sir John ; ' why do you wish that, 
 Ailsie? It seems rather a singular sort of compli- 
 ment/ 
 
 " * Oh, Sir John,' said Ailsie, * they say that you got 
 her wecht [weight] in gold wi' her, and of course the 
 bigger she was the mair ye wad hae gotten.' '* 
 
 " Very good for Ailsie,** said Bell, " very good. Her 
 an* me was weel acquaint." 
 
 A movement was set afoot to give Bell a present, 
 and subscriptions were readily got from all classes, 
 irrespective of church or other distinctive connection. 
 There was more difficulty in determining how to 
 expend the money than there had been in collect- 
 ing it. Betty Kellock's was perhaps the best pro- 
 posal. 
 
 " Gi'e Bell the hard siller ; she'll gar't gang farther, 
 and ware it better than ony 0* us.** 
 
 There were so many and so various proposals, that 
 ultimately Mrs. Barrie had to be consulted, and she 
 quietly sounded Bell, who would only speak on the 
 
 11 
 
 
 i 
 
2^4 
 
 £ITS fROM BUNKBONNY. 
 
 L 
 
 subject after she learned that she could not get out 
 of it, and the result was that a " Paisley shawl " (I 
 thiuk it was also called a Paisley plaid, a " harness *' 
 plaid) and a china tea-set were procured. 
 
 A meeting of lady subscribers was held in the manse 
 dining-room. As Dr. Stevenson insisted on being 
 admitted, he made the esentation, in what was re- 
 ported to me as " a real neat wee speech." Bell's reply 
 was declared by those present to have been "beautiful"; 
 even Miss Park said it was very becoming and most 
 creditable for a person in Bell's position. The only frag- 
 ment of it that I could pick up was that " she would 
 not presume to invite kdies in their station to her plain 
 hoose, but if any o* them would be kind enough to 
 come, she wad hansel the teapot wi' a' her heart." 
 Dr. Stevenson said, " Remember, Bell, you'll need to 
 give me a cinder in my last cup." 
 
 Bell did not know that the Doctor referred to a little 
 whisky when he said this. She look puzzled, hospit- 
 ably puzzled, and said, " A cinder, Doctor ! a cinder 
 in your hinmost cup ? The coals are unco assy [very 
 ashy] hereabouts, an* it micht break the cup ; but when 
 a* ither folks are served, I could drop ane into the tea- 
 pot if that would please ye." 
 
 " I'll drop it in myself, Bell, if you'll either give me 
 the key of the cupboard, or put the bottle on the 
 
 I'l' 
 
 . 
 
(t get out 
 shawl" (I 
 ' harness ** 
 
 the mause 
 
 on being 
 it was re- 
 Jell's reply 
 beautiful"; 
 
 and most 
 ; only frag- 
 
 she would 
 ,0 her plain 
 
 enough to 
 ler heart." 
 need to 
 
 to a little 
 
 |ed, hospit- 
 
 a cinder 
 
 |assy [very 
 
 but when 
 
 to the tea- 
 
 [r give me 
 Le on the 
 
 " THE TONES OF THE HEARTS 
 
 26.S 
 
 table," said the Doctor. " The oinder I mean will not 
 ourn a cork ; it's ' barley tea * "^r * barley bree.* " 
 
 Mrs. Barrie gave Bell as her personal present a 
 brooch of large dimensions, which contained locks of 
 the hair of all the family ; — wee Nellie's was in the 
 middle. There was engraved on the back of the 
 brooch: "From Mrs. Barrie to Isabella Cameron — July 
 1851. 'The Lord deal kindly with you, as ye have 
 dealt with the dead and with me,* Kuth i. 8." 
 
 Bell was neither romantic, nor sentimental, nor 
 demonstrative, but when she read the inscription, she 
 kissed the brooch again and again and again, and for 
 several nights after she got it, she often took it from 
 under her pillow, and pressed it to her lips and to 
 her heart 
 
 Mr. Barrie's present was a Bible in two volumes, 
 and he was bewildered by the number of texts he 
 would lilc6 to write on each. 
 
 '* My dear," said he to Mrs. Barrie, " I have spent 
 some hours in considering what to write on Bell's Bible, 
 and have not yet decided, so many texts seem suitable. 
 In the first place, I would like to write the last twenty- 
 one verses of the Book of Proverbs. I have just been 
 ireading these, and it seemed to me as if the writer had 
 Bell in his thoughts when he wrote them. It re- 
 sembles one of those new-fashioned pictures that are 
 
 
 \\ 
 
 
266 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 l! : Ii 
 
 taken by the sun now-a-days, called * daguerreotypes,' * 
 invented by a Frenchman called Daguerre. Could 
 anything more accurately descriptive of even plain 
 homely Bell be imagined than *The heart of her 
 husband doth safely trust in her/ — ' do him good and 
 not evil all the days of his life/ — ' worketh willingly 
 with her hands/ — * considereth a field and buyeth it/ — 
 * reacheth forth her hand to the needy/ — * in her tongue 
 is the law of kindness/ — * looketh well to the ways of 
 her household/ — * eateth not the bread of idleness/ and 
 so on, my dear," added he, laying his hand on the 
 Bible. " That is an old Book, — ^the old Book, — but 
 its references to human life — the lower as well as the 
 higher life — are as applicable to the life of to-day as 
 they were to that of two thousand years ago. The 
 reading of these verses in the circumstances, and with 
 the object I had in view, has delighted me ; I think 
 I never felt so irresistibly convinced that they were 
 written by Him who knew what was in man, and what 
 would suit mankind for all time." 
 
 Mr. Barrie also showed her a long list of other texts : 
 " A succourer of many, and of myself also/' — " who be- 
 
 * The original process of photography, in which the picture was 
 taken on a silvered plate. The daguerreotypes required to be held in a 
 certain way to prevent the bright silverized plate from shining so as to 
 confuse the eye, and they could not be used as negatives to take other 
 impressioub from, as photographs now are. 
 
 I 
 t 
 
 i1 
 a 
 b 
 
rpes,' * 
 Could 
 
 plain 
 >f her 
 d and 
 Uingly 
 1 it;— 
 tongue 
 vays of 
 S3,* and 
 on the 
 c, — but 
 
 as the 
 -day as 
 ,. The 
 id with 
 think 
 ly were 
 
 id what 
 
 texts : 
 ^ho be- 
 
 Iture waa 
 I held in a 
 Ig so as to 
 
 lake other 
 
 *'FAR ABOVE RUBIES." 
 
 367 
 
 stowed much labour on us," — " in labours more abun- 
 dant, in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often," 
 etc. He almost grudged Mrs. Bame her quotation from 
 Euth, but he took part of the 12th verse of the second 
 chapter, as also the blessing of the tribes in Numbers 
 vl 24-26 : " The Lord bless thee, and keep thee : the 
 Lord make His face shine upon thee, and be gracious 
 unto thee : the Lord lift up His countenance upon thee, 
 and give thee peace," and a few other passages, until 
 the front fly-leaf of both volumes was fairly covered. 
 
 Bell was immensely delighted with this gift, and 
 the volumes occupied in the " room " at Blackbrae the 
 place of honour on the small back table 
 
 The very important question of the marriage gown — 
 Bell never got the length of a dress — was confined to 
 the matters of colour and fabric, as the shape was to be 
 her "invariable." The dressmaker asked her if she 
 would like it to be low-bodied, for bare necks and 
 bare arms were in vogue for dress occasions at that 
 time. 
 
 " What d'ye mean by low-bodied ?" said BelL " D'ye 
 mean lang tails that ye hae to baud up for fear o' their 
 trailing amang the mud ? That I'll never wear ; mak' 
 it just like this every way." This only reached to the 
 ankles, and was, as all her " kirk-claes " were, of douce 
 black. 
 
 
 s% 
 
368 
 
 BITS FROM 3LINKB0NNY, 
 
 "Oh," said the dressmaker, "I meant, would you 
 like a bare neck and sleeves ? These are the fashion for 
 dress occasions at present." 
 
 Bell looked indignantly at her, and said : " Hoc dare 
 you speak o' sic heathenish fal-de-rals to me ? Bare 
 necks and sleeves ! I think I see mysel' I " But she was 
 quieted by the dressmaker's gentle reply, that she was 
 merely inquiring, not proposing such a thing ; for she 
 had an elderly lady to fit yesterday who would have a 
 * low-bodied." 
 
 " There's nae fules like auld fules, they say. Black's 
 no' lucky to get married in, so I've ta'en a red merino, 
 an' mak' it as ye've aye done my goons. An' be sure 
 an' send me the bits that's ower — they micht come 
 usefu' ; an' as I'll no* aye hae somebody to * hook my 
 back ' where I'm gaun, pit gude big hooks an* gude 
 wide eyes on't." 
 
 Dresses in those days were fastened by hooks and 
 eyes at the back, and many a firm " yerk " it took to 
 make them meet when done by the wearer alone. The 
 words may seem strange to younger readers, but older 
 householders will well remember the familiar sound of 
 *' Hook my back." -^^ 
 
 Bell wished to postpone the marriage until the 
 flitting to Edinburgh was over, but Mrs. Barrie would 
 not hear of this ; so the earliest possible day was 
 
'} 
 
 Id you 
 lion for 
 
 [oo dare 
 ! Bare 
 she was 
 she was 
 for she 
 [ have a 
 
 Black's 
 [ merino, 
 
 be sure 
 (ht come 
 
 ook my 
 
 ,n* gude 
 
 loks and 
 
 took to 
 
 le. The 
 
 t)ut older 
 
 jound of 
 
 Intil the 
 ie would 
 lay was 
 
 ** THEY'LL HELP TO GAR THE BO ATI E ROW," 269 
 
 fixed, Bell having determined to get Blackbrae all 
 light, and thereafter to see Mrs. Barrie settled in 
 Edinburgh. 
 
 Bell found a " best-maid " in Mary Barrie, who was 
 now a handsome young lady of eighteen. Besides 
 having had a good education, she had the not less im- 
 portant advantage of a thorough training in household 
 work from her mother and Bell. She was a sweet- 
 tempered, charming girl, and entered into the prepara- 
 tions for Bell's marriage with great spirit, — so much so 
 that she became Bell's adviser or rather confidant, and 
 put her head, her hands, and her heart into the work. 
 
 Mr. Tait, the schoolmaster, whose examination 
 occupied part of an earlier chapter, was " best-man." 
 
 James Barrie, now a promising young student, 
 heard Mary wondering who would give away the bride, 
 and he expressed to Mrs. Barrie his desire to do so ; 
 but his mother thought he was rather young, and had 
 intended to ask Mr. Taylor, when another applicant 
 for the honour appeared. 
 
 Mr. Tait, the schoolmaster, was calling on Mr. 
 Walker on parish business, and, as his uncle David of 
 Blackbrae had told him of his intended marriage, and 
 " trysted " him for " best-man " the day after Bell and 
 he had " made it up/' he was the first to give Mr. 
 Walker the news. 
 
 ■ I 
 
 t 
 
 t n 
 
 ' '■ H' 
 
 i 
 
^U^ '•- . ' 
 
 270 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 I have omitted till now to tell that Mr. Wi Iker was 
 a capital player on the violin ; his general instrument, 
 indeed, was the violoncello, "the bass fiddle" — pos- 
 sibly because it was more solemn and ministerial- 
 looking than the " wee fiddle ;" and he had few equals 
 in playing Scotch music of all kinds. 
 
 When he heard of David Tait's approaching mar- 
 riage with Bell, ho started up in an ecstasy of delight, 
 threw up his arms, and said : 
 
 " What ! Bell Barrie married — David Tait married ! 
 Bell Barrie married to David Tait — David married to 
 Bell ! That's news ! that is news ! It's the best thing 
 I've heard of for many a day ; " and he took a good, 
 hearty laugh. Then he resumed : 
 
 " That is news I He's a dectnt, honest, sterling man, 
 your uncle — a great friend of mine" (Mr. Walker's forle 
 was friendliness — his heart was larger than his head) ; 
 " a fine, a very fine man. Then Bell ; Bell's a — it beats 
 me to tell what Bell is. She's the cleverest an' best 
 servant in Blinkbonny; but she's more — she's — she's 
 Bell Barrie, and that's the pink o' perfection for a 
 farmer's wife. She's a tocher in hersel'. Bell for a 
 manager — Bell for a garden, or hens, or cows, or cookin* ! 
 Excuse me, Mr. Tait, I cannot refrain from expressing 
 my delight. I'll need to try the fiddle, and see if it 
 will quiet me. Bell mistress o' Blackbrae ! They're 
 
" BAITH MIGHT AND MAIN:' 
 
 271 
 
 ker was 
 rument, 
 * — pos- 
 isterial- 
 1 equals 
 
 ig mar- 
 deiight, 
 
 married ! 
 irried to 
 est thing 
 c a good, 
 
 ng man, 
 er's forle 
 s head); 
 -it beats 
 an* best 
 s — she's 
 n for a 
 11 for a 
 cookin' ! 
 pressing 
 ee if it 
 They're 
 
 
 made for one another. It never struck me before, but 
 it's perfection." 
 
 He got the "wee" fiddle down from its peg in 
 the study, and marched up and down playing almost 
 furiously several old Scotch tunes, and occasionally 
 singing a line or a few words of some of them, such 
 as " A thrifty queen was Kate Dalrym'^^e," " We're a' 
 gaun to the waddin', Lassie, will ye gae ? " " Hey the 
 bonnie ! ho the bonnie ! hey the bonnie breastknots ! " 
 "Dainty Davie," "Fy, let us a' to the bridal," etc., 
 and he ended by playing "Auld langsyne," with 
 exquisite feeling. 
 
 Not many days after this Mr. Walker called on 
 Bell, and offered to "give her away." He was 
 accepted with becoming thanks. Bell declaring "that 
 it was far ower kind, — that she never could have 
 expected to hae been countenanced in the way she 
 had been by a'body, but really this was the crowner." 
 And when all the wedding guests had met in Knowe 
 Park, in stalked worthy Mr. Walker, his sonsy face 
 beaming with delight, arm in arm with Bell, whom 
 he delivered with quite a " Sir Roger de Coverley " 
 grace by the side of David. Bell, when referring to 
 this memorable act of attention on Mr. Walker's part, 
 used to say, " Mr. Walker oxtered me in his ainsel', 
 and he was a fine buirdly man to cleek." 
 
 i\ 
 
 • -i \m 
 
 \ \ 
 
272 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONISIY. 
 
 
 The knot was soon tied by Mr. Barrie, "assisted 
 by Mr. Walker ; " and Mr. Barrie, whose prerogative 
 it was to be the first to congratulate the happy 
 couple immediately at the close of the ceremony 
 shook hands with the young wife, and said : " Mrs. 
 Tait, I wish you very much happiness, and every 
 blessing in your married life." 
 
 Bell was demure till now, and had not lifted hei 
 eyes from the ground,, but this roused her, and she 
 said : 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Barrie, ca' me Bell, dinna ca* me Mra 
 Tait," — looking earnestly into Mr. Barrie's face. 
 
 Mrs. Barrie followed, and also said "Mrs. Tait," 
 eta 
 
 "Mi-s. Barrie," said Bell softly and imploringly, 
 " if you please, mem, dinna you ca* me Mrs. Tait." 
 
 Mr. Walker was number three who called her 
 Mrs. Tait, and she remonstrated with him likewise : 
 
 " Oh, Maister Walker, Maister Walker, dinna Mrs. 
 Tait me — I canna thole't" 
 
 He made one of his little jokes — ^"To-night be 
 Mrs. Tait, but seeing you rebel, we will iQ-Bdl you 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " That's no* bad," said David. These were the first 
 words he had uttered since he entered the room. 
 
 A " towsie tea." or " tea and eating," followed the 
 
listed 
 
 Ip.tive 
 
 lappy 
 
 nony 
 
 ' Mrs. 
 
 every 
 
 d he£ 
 id &he 
 
 3 Mra 
 
 Tait; 
 
 •ringly, 
 
 d her 
 
 iLse: 
 Mrs. 
 
 ^ht be 
 \X you 
 
 le first 
 
 jd the 
 
 SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT} 273 
 
 ceremony. Mary and the schoolmaster cut up the 
 bridescake, and to Bell's great delight Gordie got 
 the ring. Mr. Barrie made a short and happy speech, 
 but Bell rather broke down in the middle of it. 
 Mr. Walker also said a little about both David and 
 Bell ; she brightened up as he referred to her " Black 
 Daisy," and all were put into excellent humour by 
 his reference to " Braidnebs." 
 
 Wlien tiiis was over, Bell, forgetting her new 
 position, started to collect the tea-things, and said 
 she would wash them up before she went away. 
 Mrs. Barrie did not object to Bell's singular procedure, 
 but followed her to the kitchen, and after again 
 wishing her everything that was good, she said : 
 
 " BeU "—not Mrs. Tait, greatly to Bell's delight— 
 "I understand that the young lads of the village 
 intend to give Mr. Tait and you a noisy convoy. I 
 think you should slip quietly away, so as to get to 
 Blackbrae before they assemble," 
 
 This hint was taken, and the couple set off rlone — 
 not, however, until Gordie had made David's back 
 feel the weight of an old slipper with which he had 
 armed himself, and which he applied with all his 
 might 
 
 Those in the manse that intended to take part 
 in the "home-coming" allowed about half an hour 
 
 B 
 
 i 
 
 
 t.' 
 
 u 
 
 \\ 
 
«74 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 to elapse before they followed to Blackbrae, where 
 David'R Bister and a few neighbours were surprised 
 to see the "happy pair" arrive earlier than they 
 were expected — and alop^ Indeed, David and Bell, 
 or rather Mr. and Mrb. ^-tit, appeared at the "room* 
 door before the table was " set," and Mrs. Brunton, 
 David's sister, stood quite aghast when she saw 
 them. 
 
 " Preserve us a*," said she, " what's brocht ye sae 
 sune ? I wasna lookin' for ye for an hour yet, an' 
 it'll no' dae to come into the house without gettin' 
 the lucky cake broken o'er your heid, BelL Ye'll 
 need tae gang out again till the lave [rest] comos, 
 for I'm no' gaun to crown ye wi't till the best-man 
 an* the best-maid's here, — it wadna be canny [safe], 
 forbye [besides] it wadna be wiselike to break the 
 infar-cake^ till there's some wanters and swankies 
 [unmarried females and nimble young men] to 
 scramle for't; so Bell, David and you'll just need 
 to gang into the garden or through the parks till the 
 lave comes." 
 
 David said : " We'll dae nae sic things,** and Bell 
 said : " It was nae matter about the infar-cake, for 
 it was jist an auld superstition about it's no* bein 
 
 ' /n/ r, — the entertainment made for the reception of the bride in 
 the bridegroom's house. — Spaldinq. 
 
 i!' % 
 
where 
 •prised 
 they 
 a Bell, 
 room" 
 ninfcon, 
 B saw 
 
 ye sae 
 yet, an* 
 , gettin* 
 . Ye'll 
 
 comes, 
 est- man 
 [safe], 
 
 ak the 
 wankies 
 len] to 
 
 st need 
 
 till the 
 
 md Bell 
 lake, for 
 lo' bein 
 
 le bride in 
 
 I 
 
 ' • A ULD LANGS YNE. " 
 
 275 
 
 lucky no' to hae't richt broken, or about dreamin* 
 ower't to ken wha wad marry ye." 
 
 But Mrs. Brunton was immoveable in this matter, 
 so they had to submit 
 
 The time, however, was not lost: David showed 
 Bell the cows, the live stock, and the steading. They 
 had but half finished the survey of the garden when 
 the Knowe Park contingent came up ; they joined it, 
 and were convoyed into the house in a style quite 
 to Mrs. Brunton's mind. The infar-cake was duly 
 broken over Bell's head, and the usual doggrel rhyme 
 repeated: 
 
 ** Welcome to your ain fireside^ 
 Health and wealth attend the bride t 
 Wanters noo your true weird mak»— 
 Joes are spaed by th' infar-cftke.'* 
 
 When the young lads of the village gathered round 
 the manse to give David and Bell a kindly but 
 rough token of their respect, they were sadly dis- 
 appointed to find that they were too late. This spoil- 
 ing of their expected " ploy " [innocent frolic] irritated 
 them, and the more thoughtless determined to go 
 to Blackbrae and play some tricks on David, or, as 
 the ringleaders expressed it, " they wad gi'e him't for 
 this." They returned to the village to get a creel, a 
 fishwife's basket, with which to "creel" David, — a 
 custom now unknown, but common forty years ago. 
 
 \\ 
 
 i.\ 
 
 ,tM 
 
 i^i 
 
 1^ 
 
276 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 
 In my earlier days I have witnessed very rude 
 conduct when the rougher and " drouthy " neighbours 
 got the young husband into a creel, as soon as he 
 appeared outside on the day after the marriage, and 
 roughly jostled him until his wife came out, kissed 
 him, and produced the " bottle." Whilst this custom 
 was dying out such extremes were not practised. The 
 husband got the creel put on his back, with some 
 weight in it (sometimes a boy, sometimes a pig, but 
 oftener a few stones), and the whisky was greedily 
 drained by the creelers to " your very good health," 
 but the wife did not need to appear. 
 
 Dan chanced to overhear some of the more fiery 
 spirits concocting schemes to annoy his friends at 
 Blackbrae. He went home as quickly as he could, 
 "loosed his ferocious, bandy-legged, ugly (not in 
 Dan's eyes, for he thought him a beauty, just a 
 perfect picture) bull-dog " Burke," took a short cut 
 through the fields, carrying with him a huge " flail " 
 used for threshing corn, and sat down on the 
 " loupin'-on stane " — a stone at the side of Blackbrae 
 farm-yard gate used when mounting on horseback. 
 
 Dan was leisurely smoking his black cutty-pipe, 
 having " Burke " on his right side, collared and 
 chained, the chain being wound round Dan's arm, 
 and the flail lying against the wall of the farm- 
 
rude 
 ibours 
 as he 
 e, and 
 kissed 
 justom 
 The 
 
 some 
 ig, but 
 reedily 
 lealth," 
 
 e fiery 
 nds at 
 could, 
 ot in 
 just a 
 rt cut 
 flail " 
 in the 
 ckbrae 
 k. 
 -pipe, 
 and 
 arm, 
 farm- 
 
 •• WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEKS 
 
 277 
 
 shed at his left, when the Blinkbonny lads, who had 
 been leisurely discussing the plan of attack as they 
 came along, turned off the main road into the 
 Blackbrae farm road. 
 
 Rarely has a crowd looked so cowed or so cowardly 
 as this did when they saw Dan. He seemed provok- 
 ingly unconscious of the change of aspect that took 
 place when they observed him, and said in quite a 
 familiar, off-hand way, with the pipe still in his cheek, 
 " It's a fine summer nicht for a walk this." / 
 
 " Burke." was not quite so neighbourly, for he 
 growled and oggled and strained his chain so much 
 that the crowd instinctively fell back. 
 
 Dan spoke to " Burke ** very kindly. " What ails 
 ye, Burke ? They's a* our ain folk, come out for a 
 mouthfu* o* fresh air. Tak' it canny, Burke, — ye 
 needna carry on as if there was mischief gaun on ; 
 they's a' friends 0' yours, an* mine, an' Blackbrae's, 
 and they're come out to wish him an' the new 
 mistress weeL" 
 
 Some of the wilder spirits now began to chaff. 
 
 " When did you turn a special constable, Dan ? 
 Ye're the last man that ou wad 'a thocht wad 'a 
 spoilt the fun." 
 
 " No* me,'* said Dan, * as mickle fun as ye like — 
 tak* yer fill o't Whare wad folk hae dafi&n* [diver* 
 
 
 
 11 
 
 ■ 
 
■9 
 1 
 
 275 
 
 SITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 sion] if no' at a waddin* ? Be ceevil, an' dinna work 
 mischeef, an' naebody'll find fau't wi* ye." 
 
 Dan would up " Burke's " chain, shouldered the 
 flail, and headed the crowd up to the front door. 
 David came frankly out and thanked them for the 
 compliment. Bell also came to the door in reply to 
 a call for the " mistress." And Mrs. Brunton fol- 
 lowed with a bottle of whisky (pardon the truth, ye 
 teetotallers, for so it was wont in Blinkbonny in 
 those days), and said, " Come awa', some o* ye, an' 
 drink the couple's health." 
 
 None of the young men answered the invitation 
 After a pause Dan stepped forward and said : " Will 
 ony o' you hand ma doug, and I'll drink their 
 healths ? " 
 
 There was no reply. *' Then keep quiet and dinna 
 cheer till I tell ye, for * Burke's ' a wee roused. 
 I'm no' as keen o' a glass as I've seen me; I can 
 either tak' it or want it." Then taking the glass of 
 whisky in his hand, he said : " Here's t'ye, Mr. Tait, 
 an* here's to the mistress, — baith your very gude 
 healths, an' may a' that's gude befa' you," and 
 drained it at a draught 
 
 ** Noo," said he, " come awa', some mair </ ya, an' 
 drink luck to Blackbrae, and after ye're dunt well 
 gi'e them a cheer." 
 
1 
 
 ^* FROM LIVELY TO SEVERED 
 
 279 
 
 Very few answered Dan's invitation. When no 
 other could be prevailed on to do so, Dan said: 
 " Noo dinna cheer till I grup * Burke ' by the 
 collar ; the chain micht snap/' He then wound the 
 chain round his arm, stooped down, and held Burke 
 firmly. The dog seemed to be affronted, for he 
 tugged, and strained, and bayed. When Dan got him 
 fairly in hand, he said : " Now, lads, cheer awa' ; gi'e 
 our young friends " (here the crowd were unmannerly, 
 and broke out into " Oh-oh-young ? ho-ho ") " a real 
 hearty ane." This was done. Burke joined in the noise 
 if he did not help the melody, and trailed or harled 
 Dan a few yards nearer the crowd. David stepped 
 forward and again thanked them. Another cheer 
 followed, and all were in grand fettle, when a voice 
 (luckily from some unrecognisable throat at the back 
 of the crowd) cried out, "Three cheers for *Auld 
 Braidnebs.'" 
 
 " What ! " said Dan sharply ; " wha dared to say 
 that ? " and he made for the flail, which he reached 
 with difficulty, as " Burke " seemed determined to 
 face the crowd. Bell saw that Dan was excited, and 
 laid her hand on his shoulder, intending to pacify him. 
 
 ** For ony favour," said he nervously, " dinna 
 come near me ; abune a', dinna lay hands on me, 
 or 111 no' answer for Burke." 
 
 
 
sSo 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 When he turned round to ask again, " Wha said 
 that?" the close was empty, and the crowd was 
 flying pell-mell homewards — their speed not a little 
 quickened by Watty's remark that " Burke was sure 
 to break the chain, an' pity the man that's hin'most" 
 
 " Dan," said Bell, " I've forgotten a box \ ask 
 Jenny Bennet" — Bell's worthy successor in Mrs. 
 Barrie's kitchen — "to gie't. It's below tho kitchen 
 dresser, tied up in broon paper an' * skeenie ' [twine], 
 an' fetch't out wi' ye the morn." 
 
 Dan brought it, and he was so considerately 
 treated, that he actually took dinner in the kitchen, 
 a thing he had seldom done anywhere. David 
 convoyed him through the " close " as he was 
 leaving, and the sow that had vexed him so much 
 attracted Dan's notice. 
 
 "Ye'll be needin' me sune, Mr. Tait," said \i% 
 pointing to the sow ; " that pig's ready for killin*." 
 
 " I canna bide it ; I canna bear the sicht o't," said 
 David. " I intended it for our ain use this winter, 
 but since it ate the Corinthians, I wadna let a 
 particle o't within ma mouth." 
 
 " Ate what ? " said Dan. 
 
 "Ye may weel say what? It ate a* the Second 
 Corinthians and fully the half o* the First." 
 
 Dan, supposing them to be some kind of new vege- 
 
1 
 
 " T//£ CUP AND platter:* 
 
 281 
 
 lecond 
 
 I vege- 
 
 table, said, as a kind of feeler, " But she wadna eat 
 them a* at ance — baith the second an' the first ? " 
 
 "But she did, the mail's the pity," said David; 
 ** an' it was on a Sabbath mornin' tae, the abominable 
 craitur." 
 
 Dan was still more at a loss to make out what 
 he meant, so he said inquiringly, " Some 0* the first 
 an' a* the second ? She left some o' the first crap, did 
 she, an' ye planted mair, or did they grow again ? or 
 was't some kind o* pushin [poison] or med'cine stufif 
 that didna *gree wi' her ? " 
 
 " 'Gree wi' her ! " said David in amazement ; " 'gi'ee 
 wi' her ! some sort o' medicine ? — What d'ye mean ? 
 It was the Corinthians out 0' the Bible." 
 
 " Out 0' the Bible ? " said Dan, — « out 0' the Bible ! 
 I never kent that ony o* it was for eatin'." 
 
 "For eatin'?" repeated David,— "for eatin' I It 
 was some o' the leaves o' the Bible, the bit that the 
 Epistle to the Corinthians was printed on, that she 
 ate, or tore out ony way, an* made them useless." 
 
 " Was that a' ? " said Dan. 
 
 " A' — a' — a', Dan, was't no' plenty ? It made me 
 a* grue [shiver] to see her munchin* them. I couldna 
 touch her ; I canna even bring mysel' to seU her, 
 for naebody that kent (and I couldna but tell) wad 
 eat her either." 
 
 'S'- 
 
 I 
 
 
 i 111 
 ; HI 
 
 \ % 
 
 I 
 
283 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 ** What for no' ? " said Dan, " she's neither ony the 
 waur nor ony the better o't If ye'll gi'e me a gude 
 luckpenny, I'll sell her for ye." 
 
 David was glad to get the pig out of his premises. 
 Dan got a little profit by the transaction, and thus 
 both were pleased. 
 
 Bell's " kirkin' * was a quiet affair. David and 
 she started early, and were seated before many folks 
 had come in to the church. The second volume of 
 Mr. Barrie's preseiitation Bible was carried thither by 
 Bell in a clean white handkerchief and used for the 
 day. In her other hand she had a few sprigs of 
 balm and southernwood, which she moved backwards 
 and forwards at her nose until they were withered, 
 and limp, and double. 
 
 They dined at Knowe Park. Bell looked vexed 
 when Mrs. Barrie said, " You know the spare bed- 
 room, Bell ; put off your bonnet and shawl in it, and 
 I daresay you'll remember the way to the parlour." 
 
 " Mrs. Barrie," said Bell, " oh, dinna make a 
 stranger o' me. Best bedroom ! — me gang till the 
 best bedroom ? N"o, no, I'll gang to my auld room," 
 — which she did ; and she was heartily welcomed by 
 Jenny, her successor, who proved to be a revised, 
 I dare not say an improved, edition of BelL 
 
 Blackbrae soon bore evidences of Bell's presence. 
 
» 
 
 ABODES BODY. 
 
 9^3 
 
 The window-panes were " glancin' clean" David said ; 
 " the house was lichtsomer an' ^weeter." The part of 
 the " close " before the front door was railed off and 
 converted into a kitchen garden, and the Knowe 
 Park family, especially Mary and Gordie, spent 
 several happy afternoons at Bell's housa 
 
 Many others enjoyed the homely hospitality of 
 Blackbrae. Dr. Stevenson, one of the hardest wrought 
 members of the hardest wrought class of men in 
 Scotland, namely, the country surgeons, often took 
 pot-luck there, and he never had to ask for a 
 " cinder," although at the same time he was vpty 
 sparing in his use of Bell's bottle. But he found her 
 80 well provided with many things, little in them- 
 selves, but invaluable to poor invalids, that he made 
 her his " Lady Bountiful," and found her always not 
 only ready and willing, but, as Mr, Barrie expressed 
 it^ *' pre-eminently judcecioua.* 
 
 t 
 
 [ 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 *' Life's a weary journey alane, 
 Blithe's the road when we wend wi* ither ; 
 Mutual gi'ein' is mutual gain, 
 Ae gude turn deserves anither." 
 
 Job. Ballantine, 
 
 A S my readers are more familiar with Mrs. Tait by 
 "^"^ her old name of Bell, it will be as well to hold 
 to it in what little we have to add to these ** bits ;" for 
 although she filled her new station as effectively as 
 she did the old one, it is rather to wind up old matters 
 than to enter upon new ones that she will now come 
 before us. 
 
 Before the actual flitting from Knowe Park took 
 place. Bell spent two or three busy days packing those 
 things that required specially careful handling ; for she 
 was a walking inventory of all that the house con- 
 tained, and knew the history of every article in it. 
 An interesting volume of choice " bits " could easily 
 be made up from her remarks and stories about many 
 
took 
 bhose 
 |r she 
 
 con- 
 in it. 
 [asily 
 
 lany 
 
 '•A FOUTH a AULD NICKNACKETS:* 
 
 28s 
 
 of the odds-and-ends that cast up, for she not only 
 .old the incidents with which they were associated, 
 but often gave a sketch of the life-history of 'jhose 
 they reminded her of, whilst all the time she kept 
 cleverly packing on. 
 
 Mary Barrie, who was Bell's chief assistant in the 
 packing, picked up in these few days more about her 
 family history, and especially its connection with 
 some of the folks about Blinkbonny, than she had 
 learned during ail her former lifetime. Her mother's 
 marriage dress brought out a long story ; even her 
 father's bachelor umbrella had its share of Bell'a 
 comments. 
 
 " Bachelor umbrella ? " said Mary, as she put it up ; 
 "it's double the size of papa's new one — it's quite a 
 family tent, and such a weight ! The handle is like a 
 friar's shaven crown, with a large bird's bill sticking 
 out from it. And how thick the blue-black '^otton is ; 
 and bone tips to the strong whalebone ribs ; and what 
 an elaborately embossed, sharp, tapering end it lias ! 
 It's three times the weight of the umbrellas now-a- 
 days." 
 
 **The mair's the pity,** said Bell; "that's the kind 
 for stan'in' a* weathers. I often wonder that Mr. 
 Barrie doesna use't yet" 
 
 " Fancy papa like this I " said Mary, as she took 
 
 1 J'. 
 
 i 
 
286 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 the massive article under her arm and stalked about 
 the room. 
 
 " Fancy, or no' fancy," said Bell, " I see naething 
 wrang wi't It's just very purpose-like ; itll fend the 
 weet [defend from rain] an* face the blast better than 
 the thin-shankit apologies o* things that's gaun noo, 
 wi' their stockin'-wire ribs an' muslin cleedin*. I 
 mind o' haein't ance when Dr. Guthrie met me in a 
 shower. He was glad to get into the beild o't, an' he 
 said, in his jokin' way, * My good woman, that wad dae 
 for the roof o' a preachin' tent.' But ye'll no' mind o' 
 the tent preachin's, there's nae sic thing noo, but. 
 I've seen them langsyiie in Dumbarton, — one minister 
 serving the tables in the kirk, an' anither pn-achin' to 
 the folk in the kirkyard round it The tent was just 
 like a sentry-box on stilts. I've kent the preachin's 
 gang on frae about ten in the mornin' till nine at 
 nicht" ' 
 
 In one of the rooms Mrs. Barrie looked towards a 
 little drawer, and slightly nodded to Bell ; she nodded 
 feelingly in return, but no words passed between them. 
 Mrs. Barrie laid a small box on a chair and left the 
 room ; Bell opened the drawer and solemnly took out a 
 little beaver bonnet, a very smaH fur tippet, a string of 
 blue beads, a child's basket rattie, and a red-and-white 
 wooden luggie, with a handle formed by one of its long 
 
Lids a 
 )dded 
 bhem. 
 |b the 
 lout a 
 [ngof 
 rhite 
 long 
 
 Btaves,— when shaken, some mysteriously concealed 
 peas in the hottom of it rattled. It had been Nellie's 
 porridge dish, and still contained a pair of little 
 slippers, a small copy of Watts* hymns in scarlet 
 hinding, and some bits of broken china with gold on 
 them — Nellie's pennies. 
 
 These and other memorials of " Bell's bairn " 
 were daintily taken out by Bell ; but she was not 
 quite well-bred to Mary when doing this, as she 
 studiously turned her back on her, and kept her from 
 getting near the drawer. After its contents had been 
 beautifully packed in the little box, she closed, 
 wrapped, and roped it, saying, " I'll carry you mysel*. 
 She'll never need to flit — she's hame A'waysr 
 
 Dan came very early on the flitting morning to 
 help to load David's carts, which were to t>-ke the 
 furniture to Edinburgh ; and between the intervals of 
 helping on with what was carried out, he had a crack 
 with the horses, for he was in charge outside. Dan 
 was fond of all kinds of animals ; horses were second 
 in his scale, now that he had given up game fowls. 
 
 " First and foremost," he used to say, " dougs, then 
 horses, then goats," and so on. In his professional 
 capacity as a rude veterinary surgeon, he* knew the 
 Blackbrae teams well, and as the first cart was to bo 
 taken in by David himself, and Bell would travel by it 
 
 
288 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 (although urged to take the railway, which had lately 
 come within four miles of Blinkbonny, and to which 
 the drosky was to take the family), old " Eosie " was 
 to lead the van. With the exception of a spot on her 
 forehead and one "white stocking on her far leg,'* 
 Eosie was a coal-black, thick -set, quick- stepping, 
 trusty mare, a great favourite of Dan's; and she seemed 
 to know it, for while he had a good deal to say, she 
 had abundance of leisure to listen and seemed to 
 enjoy the chat. 
 
 "Well, Eosie, my dawtie [darling]," said he, at the 
 same time patting her noso and kindly puling her 
 ears, "ye wad need tae be in gude fettle [trim] the 
 day. Ye've a far road afore ye; but there's uane 
 fitter for't Ye'll no* reist [stubbornly stick] on the 
 lang dreich [tiresome] Cadger's Brae, nor on the 
 Eamsune [ram's horn] Hill; for altho' it's no* sae 
 lang as the Cadger's Brae, it's a nasty strauchty- 
 squinty [zig-zag] bit, wi* terrible snell snabs [steep 
 parts] that tak's tne wind mair frae a beast than a 
 lang steady pu*. I ken ye o* the auld, Eosie ; ye'll 
 scart [scratch] yer way up, diggin* yer shoon intae the 
 road tiU the fire's fleein' frae them,* an* bendin* yer fore- 
 legs wi' a* 'yer pith, and strauchtin* them back again 
 wi' a nick like the spring o* a gardener*s knife. You 
 for a steady day's wark, Eosio ; you're no' ane o* the 
 
"A BETTER NEVER LTFTIT LEG. 
 
 a89 
 
 breengein', flingin' [rashly running, kicking] kind, Rosie ; 
 ye just snoove [move steadily] awa', like linseed out 
 o* a pock — on an' on — steady, steady " — and much to 
 the same effect. 
 
 As the journey was a long one, Rosie's cart started 
 at a very early hour. When all was ready. Bell, as 
 she had to mount on the top of some mattresses which 
 had been put. there for her comfortable journey, 
 handed Nellie's box to Dan to hold, saying : 
 
 " Eh, Dan, that's wee Nellie's things in that box, 
 I'll carry't on my lap a* the way. D'ye ken, Dan, 
 that your dream has hardly ever been out o* my head 
 since I packit them ? I aye think I see her in her 
 braw mansion, lookin' doon on the confushun an* 
 upturn 0* the flittin'. Nae flittin', or confushun, or 
 bother for her noo. Na — We maun a* try to get 
 up beside her, Dan, gin the time comes." 
 
 '* It's worth tryin'," said Dan ; " 'deed is't," as Rosie, 
 led by David, with Bell as a deck cargo, scarcely 
 visible in the dark morning, started for Edinburgh. 
 The old mare's long swinging step served io keep 
 David warm, but it actually set Bell asleep. Luckily 
 she was well wrapped up, so that she took no 
 skaith. 
 
 As Rosie's cart went out, Sandie Ramage, David's 
 head ploughman, appeared with the next cart, drawn 
 
 I 
 
 
290 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONMY. 
 
 by " Charlie Gray," another of David's plough-horses. 
 Dan had a good deal to say to " Charlie " also, but 
 Bell's remark about Nellie's mansion had changed the 
 current of his thoughts, and he spoke more to Charlie 
 about this matter than about the Edinburgh journey. 
 
 " We'll need to try't, as your mistress said, Charlie," 
 said Dan, after exchanging civilities with the horse, 
 " an* wi' the like o' her I get on no' that ill ; but it 
 disna set the like o' me, for ye ken, Charlie, I've been a 
 wild, throughither kind o' a man, to mak' ony show ofif 
 or palaver about thae things ; an' forbye, what mak's 
 folk sae keen to speir into a' the oots an* ins o* that 
 kind o' thing at the like o* me ? It's ma business. 
 It's ill kennin* some folk, an* there's nae satisfyin' 
 ithers, an* d'ye no' think, Charlie, that maybe the best 
 o* folk has enough adae wi' themsel's ? Mr. Walker 
 says that, onyway, an* he*s a man I can speak till. 
 We*ve haen mony a crack, an* I*ve aye been the better 
 o't ; he*s that hamely an* kindlike, an* firm tae. He 
 tak*s pains tae mak* the thing plain, an* he doesna 
 miss ye if ye*re in faut ; he grups ye gey sharp, an* 
 gars [makes] ye a' shiver if ye*ve been misbehavin'.** 
 
 Finding Charlie a patient listener, Dan went on as 
 leisure admitted ; but it would be tedious to record all 
 he said. One bit was spoken rather louder tha^ the 
 rest, and reported to me as follows : — ■ 
 
 \ 
 
horses, 
 so, but 
 ed the 
 Charlie 
 rney. 
 harlie," 
 
 horse, 
 
 but it 
 
 been a 
 
 how off 
 
 mak's 
 o* that 
 asiness. 
 tisfyin' 
 tie best 
 Walker 
 ak tiU. 
 
 better 
 
 He 
 
 doesna 
 
 irp, an* 
 
 in. 
 
 ', on as 
 ord all 
 lu the 
 
 
 \ 
 
 **HE PRA YETH BEST WHO LOVETH BESTr 291 
 
 *' I'm willin* to hear o' thae things in the like o' the 
 kirk, or when there's a wheen [number] thegither 
 speakin' about them ; but I tak' very ill wi' the like o' 
 Miss Park speirin* [inquiring] if I've fand this, or am 
 sure o' that ; an' after gaun ower about a dizzen o' lang- 
 nebbit dictionar' words, she tell'd me if I couldna say 
 I had them an' ither evidences, as she ca'd them, I was 
 deid an* something. — An' what business had she to 
 say that nae gude man could keep a big ugly doug — 
 meanin' my Burke ? He's a hantle better-lookin* than 
 her, wi* her wizened leathery chafts [jaws]. I've never 
 letten him fecht, or gaen to see either cock-fechts or 
 doug-fechts, since I saw the pictures. Burke an' me's 
 ower auld friends to pairt noo ; in fac*, Charlie, I learn 
 mair frae him than the like o' Miss Pai-k. I whiles 
 dae up her bit garden, an' she speaks that saucy an* 
 disdainfu*-like at me, as if I was some nasty mongrel. 
 She minds me 0* the doctors at Greenock lang syne, 
 that used to boord the ships if there was onybody no* 
 weel in them. They were the sharp blades. They 
 never even offert to gang near the puir sailors to cure 
 them, or help them ony way ; it was just, ' Bad case ; 
 off to hospital — off too — off,' an* sic like. Nae doubt 
 she means to dae me gude, but yon's no* the way ! It's 
 like as Burke used to be amang the sheep whiles when 
 I was gi'ein' him a walk lang syne ; it was a kind o* 
 
 I 
 
298 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 vexin' sicht, for Burke wasna exactly like a collie 
 amang them." 
 
 After all the carts were laden, Dan waited to convoy 
 the last one for a few miles on the road. Mrs. Barrie 
 called him in, and said : 
 
 " Now, Dan, I'm not going to pay you in money for 
 this morning's work." 
 
 " Pay me !" said Dan ; " pay me, in money ! Ye ken 
 better than to vex me that sair. I couldna even lool< 
 Burke in the face if I took a farden [farthing]. He 
 wad be that affrontit at me that he wadna gi'e me 
 house-room." 
 
 "I never thought of offering you money, Dan," 
 replied Mrs. Barrie. " I am quite pleased to accept 
 your help as a friend of the family ; but to keep you 
 from forgetting us altogether " — 
 
 " That's what I'll never dae," said Dan very firmly. 
 
 Mrs. Barrie bowed neatly, and proceeded in a 
 homelier tone than before: ** To keep you in mind of ua 
 all, I ask you to take this picture, and hang it in youi 
 house ;, it's your old friend, * The Angel's Whisper.' " 
 
 The picture-frame ^i2A leaning against the dining- 
 room wall, and only its rough brown paper back was 
 visible until Mrs. Barrie had named it She then 
 lifted it up and turned its face towards Dan. The 
 poor man started, applied first the cuff of his coat, 
 
 I 
 
" THERE S A DEEP LORE IN HEARTS OF LOVE." 293 
 
 rouch 
 
 and. 
 
 he 
 
 was 
 
 then 
 
 The 
 
 ooat, 
 
 woollen cap, to his eye; 
 afterwards told Bell, " I fand out where my heart was, 
 sure eneuch; it flappert about like a fresh-run sea- 
 troot wi' a hook in its mooth. I was that glififed 
 [taken by surprise] that I couldna even say Thank ye." 
 Mrs. Barrie had great difficulty in getting him to take 
 the picture. 
 
 "Take that, — that frae you! that's the brawest 
 thing in yer hoose. That's no' like ma house at a*. 
 It's far ower splendid — it's just awfu* bonnie ; that's a 
 pictur' an' no mistake," said Dan ; and he kept gazing 
 at it until his solitary eye watered. 
 
 Mrs. Barrie would take no denial. She advised 
 Dan to take it home at once ; and, shaking him by 
 the hand, she said : " Good-bye, Dan ; many thanks for 
 all your kindness. Be sure if ever you are in Edin- 
 burgh to come and see us." 
 
 Dan's eye followed her as she left the room with a 
 funny smile on it ; and he said to himself : 
 
 " Me come to see ye — me .' That wad be a farpe. 
 I think the offishers [police] wad keep a gey sharp 
 look-out for some nichts after they saw me at siccan 
 a house." Here he was interrupted by hearing Sandie 
 Ramage saying, " I'll tak' a bit draw, an' then start." 
 
 Dan quickly crossed the field with his piecioua 
 burden, taking great care to keep the top of the 
 
294 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 picture uppermost, and not to shake it. Sandie 
 Eamage said he heard him say, " If I'm no* carefu*, I 
 micht wauken the bonnie bairn." After he got it 
 safely home, and put, still top uppermost, inside of his 
 box bed, he put the only two chairs he had in the 
 house before it, locked the door, and convoyed Charlie 
 Gray until he had mastered the "Ramsnne Hill," 
 assisted by Dan from the back of the cart at the zig- 
 zag turns. He would have gone farther, but he was 
 wearying to have a good look at the picture. On 
 his way home he met the drosky containing Mra 
 Barrie and the children. Gordie, who was beside the 
 driver, cried to those inside, " Here's Dan coming !" 
 As they passed, all waved liim a kind good-bye, and 
 poor Dan stood, cap in hand, looking at the receding 
 vehicle until Gordie turned round and waved his cap. 
 Dan did the same, and said laughingly, "Ye're an 
 awfu' ane. He's a stuffy laddie that, — he'll no' let 
 grass grow at his heels. Tut they're a* gude thegither, 
 an' they hae been gude to me. Mf blessings may be 
 no' muckle worth, but they hae't frae my heart, — God 
 bless them a'." 
 
 When he reached his own door he found Mr. 
 Walker there. He had been at the London Exhibition 
 of 1861, and had got from a publisher, an old 
 Blinkbonny man. some copies of the Pilgrim's Progress, 
 
 
BETTER FLEECH A FOOL THAN FECHT HIM. 295 
 
 i»» 
 
 
 one of which he had brought to Dan, who was so 
 proud of his new picture that he asked Mr. Walker 
 in to gee it. Mr. Walker explained to him soroe of 
 the pictures in the PilgrirrCs Progress^ which greatly 
 interested him. A neighbour's boy occasionally came 
 in and read it to him, greatly to Dan's delight. Had 
 I room to give his comments, they would astonish even 
 very learned men ; but I must take leave of Dan for 
 the present, and am glad to leave him such a quiet 
 neighbourly man, that when an impertinent fellow 
 shortly after this called " Braidnebs " after him, Dan 
 quietly looked at him and said : 
 
 " If I was as I've seen me, I wad *a made a fule o* 
 mysel* the noo ; an' ye're trying to mak' a fule 0* me, 
 but ye'll find out that ye're jist makin' a fule o* yersel'. 
 The game's here yet, but it disna show up at a dirty 
 barn-door bantin' that kens nae better. Man, I'm 
 sorry for ye." 
 
 The flitting got all right to Edinburgh. Bell had 
 not been there before, and was greatly taken with the 
 Castle. " It was bigger and had mair houses on't than 
 Dumbarton Castle ; but there was ae thing, it hadna 
 the bonnie Clyde round it." When she arrived at 
 the house she set to work at once, William Morrison, 
 the singing deacon formerly mentioned, who had charge 
 of the flitting, having come off with the early train. 
 
296 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 " Weel, Willie, is the house a* ready ? Is a' the 
 lums soopit [chimneys swept] ? It's a bit nice-like 
 house. Has May Ritchie gotten't a' clean ?" 
 
 Here May, Guy's daughter, appeared to answer for 
 herself. 
 
 "A*s as clean as a new preen [pin]," said 
 May. 
 
 Bell was now inside, and evidently had not the 
 same high estimate of the cleanness of the house as 
 May had. 
 
 " Let's see," said she as she sniffed about. " May, 
 it's hardly just that; it's rather like the * Willie 
 Cossar * (an old name for a large-sized pin) that Dan 
 used to pick his pipe wi', an' hit was very dim, — 
 yellow, green, an' a' colours. But I'll gi'e a bit hand, 
 an* we'll sune take out what's left, — the feck [most] 
 o't's out, ony way ; " and Bell soon put a new face on 
 the parts that needed attention 
 
 Mrs. Barrie wished her to stay over the Sabbath, 
 and to be present at the introduction of Mr. Barrie 
 to his new charge, but Bell did not relish that idea 
 at all. Although the call had helped on her marriage, 
 it had parted her from her best friends ; and she said 
 to David, that " ultho' there was naebody she likit sae 
 weel to hear as Mr. Barrie, she wad Wishart-Kirk 
 
 nane. 
 
 i» 
 
" MAJC ILKA THING LOOK BRA IV.' 
 
 297 
 
 After getting things "a wee snod" in the new 
 house, she fulfilled her early promise to David to put 
 everything right by making a good many very sensible 
 purchases for Blackbrae. Not even an Edinburgh 
 shopkeeper could induce Bell to buy, hardly even to 
 look at, anything she did not think needful ; — she had 
 matured her inventory of wants, and held to it. She 
 quickly scented that she was wrong if she went into 
 a "cheap John" shop, as she called it; and, when 
 outside, said to David : 
 
 "It's hard for a greedy e'e to hae a leal heart: 
 we'll hae nae trash in our house — a's no' gold that 
 glitters." The result of her shopping was : " I dinna 
 ken whether M'Laren or Lauther's the best shop, but 
 there's this much, they hae gude things ; an' if ye're 
 willing to pay for them, ye'U get the very best, an' 
 hit's aye the cheapest." 
 
 Bell and David had resolved to furnish one or two 
 of the rooms, so that she could invite her old friends 
 to stay with her. " She thocht they wad like to come, 
 an' she wad be as glad to r.ee them, specially Gordie, 
 but 'deed ony 0' them a'." Sandie Ramage got all the 
 shoppings gathered together, and after bidding good- 
 bye to Mrs. Barrie's household, they " drove the day 
 into the night," and landed safely at Blackbrae. 
 
 There they were " as happy as the day was lang," 
 
 i 
 
 - 
 
298 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY. 
 
 Bell doing her part as thoroughly as she had ever done 
 it in Mrs. Barrie's service, but with even more pawki- 
 ness [shrewdness] than ever; and she carried on her 
 experiments with her hens, — indeed, with all the live 
 stock, — until, to them, " her very foot had music in't " 
 as she went amongst them. And David and she had 
 as cosy a fireside as could be found in broad Scotland, 
 until for miles round, the best recommendation that a 
 servant could have was that she had been a year or 
 two at Blackbrae when she was a lassie. 
 
 Many acts of considerate kindness are told by the 
 poor and the needy about the mistress at Blackbrae ; 
 for Bell's heart expa ded as her power of doing good 
 increased. She had little romantic poetry in her 
 nature, for her favourite book in that way was the 
 admirable collection of nursery songs that first 
 appeared at the end of a book called "Whistle- 
 binkie," which is unhappily now very scarce. Bell 
 had the "Songs for the Nursery" bound separately, 
 and many a night did she entertain the Barrie bairns 
 with its admirable Doric : " Willie Winkie," " Cockie- 
 Leerie-La," "John Frost," "The A B C," "Uncle 
 Jamie," " Cur-rook-i-ty-doo,*' etc.; but she always 
 ended with " The Blind Beggar Man," and to this day 
 she carries out the noble sentiments embodied in the 
 following lines : — 
 
 JA. 
 
" SCOTCH reviewer: 
 
 299 
 
 *' To the feckless and friendless, my bairns, aye be kind ; 
 Be feet to the lame, and be eyes to the blind ; 
 *Twas to share wi' the needfu' our blessings were gi'en, 
 And the friend o' the poor never wanted a frien*. 
 
 " He who tempers the wind to the lamb that is shorn, 
 Will bless those who take from life's pathway a thorn ; 
 And the ' cup of cold water ' that kindness bestows, 
 On the heart back in rivers of gladness o'erflows. 
 
 ** Oh, tent you the lear' frae your mither ye learn, 
 For the seed springs in manhood that's sawn in the bairn } 
 And mind it will cheer you through life's little span, 
 The blessing that fa's frae the blind beggar man." 
 
 Hi 
 
 Before putting these " Bits from Blinkbonny *' into 
 the hands of the public, I asked Mr. Andrew Taylor, 
 my old friend the precentor already referred to, to 
 look over them ; for old Mr. Taylor, and worthy Mr. 
 Morrison the minister, and Miss Park, and many of 
 those who are mentioned in the " Bits," have passed 
 away. 
 
 His criticism was : " Well, I've read your ' Bits,* 
 an* they*re no' bad, considerin*. Ye've said rather 
 much about the Free Kirk an* Bell ; for although she's 
 a nice body, she's just like oursel's, an' no' the kind to 
 make a book o*. An' then Den was a queer subject 
 to mix up wi' the ithers. It's a' true enough so far. 
 I mind o* the braid -nebs an' the dream, an' David 
 himsel* tell'd me about the sow an* the Corinthians. 
 The whole affair brings me in mind o* a fire-screen my 
 
300 
 
 BITS FROM BLINKBONNY, 
 
 daughter won at a bazaar ; it's covered wi' pictures o' 
 a' sorts an' sizes, wi* scenes out o* every country under 
 the sun, an* at a* times o* the year, simmer an* winter ; 
 there's butterflies bigger than folk, an* oranges and 
 peaches, and even shells, growin* on ivy leaves. In 
 fact, it minds me o* a story in Dean Eamsay's book 
 about a Scotchman when he was askit by an English- 
 man if he ca'd a sheep's head a dish ? ' I dinna 
 ken,* said Sawnie, ' but there's a lot o* gude confused 
 eatin* about it, ony way.* '* 
 
 I told him that I felt it was more of a hash than a 
 joint, a sort of literary haggis, but that it was difficult 
 to give a fair notion of village life without bringing in 
 all sorts of folks and scenes. 
 
 "That's exactly what I*m sayin'," said Andrew. 
 "There's the ither kirks, as gude as the Free, that ye*ve 
 said little about; an* then there's our tradesmen, — 
 there were some queer fish among them in my young 
 days ; an' there's the schule, an' the doctor, an' plenty 
 mair. Could ye no' hae said something about the like 
 o' the generality o' the auld folk o' Blinkbonny ? If 
 ye tak' as lang to them as ye've ta'en to Bell, ye micht 
 make fifty books." 
 
 I acknowledged the correctness of his remarks, and 
 advised him to try it himself, and he would perhaps 
 find it more difficult than he imagined. 
 
i! 
 
 •• THE HANGING COMMITTEE: 
 
 301 
 
 •'•' Me write a book !" said he ; " I've mail' sense. 
 You'll find that you're sure to hae trampit on some- 
 body's tender corns." 
 
 " Very likely," said I, " but if so, it has been quite 
 unintentional on my part. I had no plan before me 
 when I started, nor have I, whilst trying to reproduce 
 bygone times, had any object in view but to present 
 them in a friendly spirit and in a homely garb." 
 
 I hope that my readers will receive in the same 
 spirit these ** Bits from Blinkbonny." 
 
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