country. Forgive us, for we didna ken that we were leavin' or the sair hert we gied oor Father. It was weary wark tae live wi' oor sins, but we wud never hev come back had it no been for oor Elder Brither. He cam' a long road tae find us, and a sore travail He had afore He set us free. He's been a gude Brither tae us, and we've been a heavy chairge tae Him. May He keep a firm haud o' us and keep us in the richt road, and bring us back gin we wander, and tell us a' we need tae know till the gloamin' come. Gither us in then, we pray Thee, and a' we luve, no a bairn missin', and may we sit doon for ever in oor ain Father's House. Amen." As Burnbrae said Amen, Carmichael opened his eyes, and had a vision which will remain with him until the day break and the shadows flee away. The six elders three small farmers, a tailor, a stonemason, and a shepherd- were standing beneath the lamp, and the light fell like a halo on their bent heads. That poor little vestry had disappeared, and this present world was forgotten. The sons of God had come into their heritage. For the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal." -Beside the Bonnie Brier-Bush. 66 OUR SERMON TASTER. A Drumtochty man, standing six feet three in his boots, sat himself down one day in the study of a WestEnd minister, and gazed before him with the countenance of a sphinx. The sight struck awe into the townsman's heart, and the power of speech was paralysed within him. "A'm frae Drumtochty," began a deep, solemn voice. "Ye'ill hae heard of Drumtochty, of coorse. A've jined the polis; the pay is no that bad, and the work is naethin' to an able-bodied man." When these particulars had been digested by the audi ence: "I's a crooded place London, and the fouks aye in a tiravie [commotion], rinnin' here and rinnin' there, and the maist feck o' them dinna ken whar they're gaein'. "It's officer this and officer that frae mornin' till nicht. It's peetifu' tae see the helplessness o' the bodies in their ain toon. And they're freevolous," continued the figure, refreshing itself with a reminiscence. "It wes this verra mornin' that a man askit me hoo tae get tae the Strand. 66 6 Haud on,' I says, 'till ye come tae a cross street, and dinna gang doon it, and when ye see anither pass it, but whup round the third, and yir nose 'ill bring ye tae the Strand.' 66 6 "He was a shachlin bit cratur, and he lookit up at me. 'Where were you born, officer?' in his clippit English tongue. 66 6 Drumtochty,' a' said, 'an' we hev juist ae man as sma' as you in the hale Glen.' "He gied awa' lauchin' like tae split his sides, an' the fac' is there's no ane o' them asks me a question but he lauchs. They're a light-headed fouk, and no sair educat. But we maunna boast; they hevna hed our advantages." The minister made a brave effort to assert himself. 66 ply waived its hand and resumed: "A'm comin' tae that, but a thocht ye wud be wantin' ma opeenion o' London. "Weel, ye see, the first thing a' did, of coorse, after settlin' doon, was tae gae roond the kirks and hear what kin' o' ministers they hae up here. A've been in saxteen kirks the last three months, an' a' wud hae been in mair had it no bin for ma oors. "Ay, ay, a' ken ye'ill be wantin' ma judgment," interpreting a movement in the chair, "an ye'ill hae it. Some wes puir stuff - plenty o' water and little meal and some wesna sae bad for England. But ye'ill be pleased to know," here the figure relaxed and beamed on the anxious minister, that a'm rael weel satisfied wi' yersel', and a'm thinkin' o' sittin' under ye. 66 "Man," were Drumtochty's last words, "a' wish Elspeth Macfadyen cud hear we, her 'at prees [tastes] the sermons in oor Glen; a' believe she wud pass ye, an' if ye got a certeeficat frae Elspeth, ye wud be a prood man." Drumtochty read widely-Soutar was soaked in Carlyle, and Marget Howe knew her "In Memoriam" by heart but our intellectual life centered on the weekly sermon. Men thought about Sabbath as they followed the plough in our caller air, and braced themselves for an effort at the giving out of the text. The hearer had his snuff and selected his attitude, and from that moment to the close he never moved nor took his eyes off the preacher. There was a tradition that one of the Disruption fathers had preached in the Free Kirk for one hour and fifty minutes on the bulwarks of Zion, and had left the impression that he was only playing round the outskirts of his subject. No preacher with anything to say could complain of Drumtochty, for he got a patient, honest, critical hearing from beginning to end. If a preacher were slightly equipped, the audience may have been trying. Well-meaning evangelists who came with what they called "a simple Gospel address," and were accustomed to have their warmer passages punctuated with rounds of spiritual applause in the shape of smiles and nods, lost heart in face of that judicial front, and afterwards described Drumtochty in the religious papers as "dead." It was as well that these good men walked in a vain show, for, as a matter of fact, their hearers were painfully alive. "Whar did yon wakely body come frae, Burnbrae? It wes licht wark the day. There wes nae thocht worth mentionin', and onything he had wes eked oot by repeetition. Tae sae naethin' o' bairnly stories." "He lives aboot England, a'm telt, an' dis a feck o' gude in his ain place. He hesna muckle in his head, a'll alloo that, Netherton, but he's an earnest bit cratur." Ou ay, and fu' o' self-conceit. Did ye hear hoo often he said 'I'? A' got as far as saxty-three, and then a' lost coont. But a' keepit 'dear,' it cam' tae the hundred 66 neat. "Weel?' a' says tae Elspeth Macfadyen. A' kent she Iwud hae his measure. 666 Gruel, Netherton, juist gruel, and eneuch tae scunner [disgust] ye wi' sugar.'' It was the birthright of every native of the parish to be a critic, and certain were allowed to be experts in special departments Lachlan Campbell in doctrine and Jamie Soutar in logic-but as an all-round practitioner Mrs. Macfadyen had a solitary reputation. It rested on a long series of unreversed judgments, with felicitous strokes of description that passed into the literary capital of the Glen. One felt it was genius, and could only note contributing circumstances - an eye that took in the preacher from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot; an almost uncannie insight into character; the instinct to seize on every scrap of evidence; a memory that was simply an automatic register; an unfailing sense of fitness; and an absolute impartiality regarding subject. It goes without saying that Mrs. Macfadyen did not take nervous little notes during the sermon - all writing on Sabbath, in kirk or outside, was strictly forbidden in Drumtochtyor mark her Bible, or practise any other profane device of feeble-minded hearers. It did not matter how elaborate or how incoherent a serman might be; it could not confuse our critic. When John Peddie of Muirtown, who always approached two hours, and usually had to leave out the last head, took time at the Drumtochty Fast, and gave, at full length, his famous discourse on the total depravity of the human race, from the text, "Arise, shine, for thy light is come," it may be admitted that the Glen wavered in its confidence. Human nature has limitations, and failure would have been no discredit to Elspeth. "They were sayin' at the Presbytery," Burnbrae reported, that it hes mair than seeventy heads, coontin' pints, of coorse, and a' can weel believe it. Na, na; it's no tae be expeckit that Elspeth cud gie them a' aifter ae hearin'." Jamie Soutar looked in to set his mind at rest, and Elspeth went at once to work. "Sit doon, Jamie, for it canna be dune in a meenut." It took twenty-three minutes exactly, for Jamie watched the clock. |