Kate Carnegie and Those Ministers

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"Any man," he used to say to his reverend brother of Kildrummie, as
they went home from the Presbytery together, "who gets unto a wrangle
with his farmers about a collection is either an upstart or he is a
fool, and in neither case ought he to be a minister of the Church of
Scotland." And the two old men would lament the decay of the ministry
over their wine in Kildrummie Manse--being both of the same school,
cultured, clean-living, kind-hearted, honourable, but not extravagantly
evangelical clergymen. They agreed in everything except the matter of
their after-dinner wine, Dr. Davidson having a partiality for port,
while the minister of Kildrummie insisted that a generous claret was
the hereditary drink of a Scottish gentleman. This was only, however,
a subject of academic debate, and was not allowed to interfere with
practice--the abbe of Drumtochty taking his bottle of claret, in an
appreciative spirit, and the cure of Kildrummie disposing of his two or
three glasses of port with cheerful resignation.

If Drumtochty exalted its minister above his neighbours, it may be
urged in excuse that Scottish folk are much affected by a man's birth,
and Dr. Davidson had a good ancestry. He was the last of his line, and
represented a family that for two centuries had given her sons to the
Kirk. Among those bygone worthies, the Doctor used to select one in
especial for honourable mention. He was a minister of Dunleith, whose
farmers preferred to play ball against the wall of the kirk to hearing
him preach, and gave him insolence on his offering a pious
remonstrance. Whereupon the Davidson of that day, being, like all his
race, short in stature, but mighty in strength, first beat the champion
player one Sabbath morning at his own game to tame an unholy pride, and
then thrashed him with his fist to do good to his soul. This happy
achievement in practical theology secured an immediate congregation,
and produced so salutary an effect on the schismatic ball-player that
he became in due course an elder, and was distinguished for his
severity in dealing with persons absenting themselves from public
worship, or giving themselves overmuch to vain amusements.

At the close of the last century the Doctor's grandfather was minister
of the High Kirk, Muirtown, where he built up the people in loyalty to
Kirk and State, and himself recruited for the Perthshire Fencibles. He
also delivered a sermon entitled "The French Revolution the just
judgment of the Almighty on the spirit of insubordination," for which
he received a vote of thanks from the Lord Provost and Bailies of
Muirtown in council assembled, as well as a jewel from the Earl of
Kilspindie, the grandfather of our lord, which the Doctor inherited and
wore on the third finger of his left hand. Had Carmichael or any other
minister decked himself after this fashion, it had not fared well with
him, but even the Free Kirk appreciated a certain pomp in Dr. Davidson,
and would have resented his being as other men. He was always pleased
to give the history of the ring, and generally told a story of his
ancestor, which he had tasted much more frequently than the sermon. A
famous judge had asked him to dinner as he made his circuit, and they
had disputed about the claret, till at last its excellence compelled
respect at the close of the first bottle.

"'Now, Reverend Sir,' said the judge, 'this wine has been slandered and
its fair fame taken away without reason. I demand that you absolve it
from the scandal.'

"'My Lord,' said my worthy forbear, 'you are a great criminal lawyer,
but you are not well read in Kirk law, for no offender can be absolved
without three appearances.'

"My grandfather," the Doctor used to conclude, "had the best of that
jest besides at least two bottles of claret, for in those days a
clergyman took more wine than we would now think seemly, although, mark
you, the old gentleman always denounced drunkenness on two grounds:
first, because it was an offence against religion, and second, because
it was a sign of weakness."

Some old folk could remember the Doctor's father, who never attained to
the Doctorate, but was a commanding personage. He published no
sermons, but as the first Davidson in Drumtochty, he laid the
foundations of good government. The Kilspindie family had only
recently come into the parish--having purchased the larger part of the
Carnegies' land--and Drumtochty took a thrawn fit, and among other acts
of war pulled down time after time certain new fences. The minister
was appealed to by his lordship, and having settled the rights of the
matter, he bade the factor wait in patience till the Sacrament, and
Drumsheugh's father used to tell unto the day of his death, as a
historical event, how the Doctor's father stood at the communion-table
and debarred from the Sacrament evil livers of all kinds, and that day
in especial all who had broken Lord Kilspindie's fences,--which was an
end of the war. There was a picture of him in the Doctor's study,
showing a very determined gentleman, who brought up both his parish and
his family upon the stick, and with undeniable success.

With such blood in his veins it was not to be expected that our Doctor
should be after the fashion of a modern minister. No one had ever seen
him (or wished to see him) in any other dress than black cloth, and a
broad-brimmed silk hat, with a white stock of many folds and a bunch of
seals depending from some mysterious pocket. His walk, so assured, so
measured, so stately, was a means of grace to the parish, confirming
every sound and loyal belief, and was crowned, so to say, by his stick,
which had a gold head, and having made history in the days of his
father, had reached the position of a hereditary sceptre. No one could
estimate the aid and comfort that stick gave to the Doctor's visits,
but one quite understood the force of the comparison Hillocks once
drew, after the Doctor's death, between the coming to his house of the
Doctor and a "cry" from his energetic successor under the new _regime_.

"He 's a hard-workin' body, oor new man, aye rin rinnin', fuss fussin'
roond the pairish, an' he 's a pop'lar hand in the pulpit, but it's a
puir business a veesit frae him.

"It's juist in an' oot like a cadger buyin' eggs, nae peace an' nae
solemnity. Of coorse it's no his blame that he 's naethin' tae look
at, for that's the wy he wes made, an' his father keepit a pig (china)
shop, but at ony rate he micht get a wise-like stick.

"Noo, there wes the Doctor 'at's dead an' gone; he didna gang
scrammelin' an' huntin' aifter the fouk frae Monday tae Saiturday. Na,
na, he didna lower himsel' preachin' an' paiterin' like a missionary
body. He announced frae the pulpit whar he wes gaein' and when he wes
comin'.

"'It's my purpose,'" and Hillocks did his best to imitate the Doctor,
"'to visit the farm of Hillocks on Wednesday of this week, and I desire
to meet with all persons living thereon;' it wes worth callin' an
intimation, an' gied ye pleesure in yir seat.

"On Tuesday aifternoon John wud juist drap in tae see that a'thing wes
ready, and the next aifternoon the Doctor comes himsel', an' the first
thing he dis is tae lay the stick on the table an' gin he hed never
said a word, tae see it lyin' there wes a veesitation. But he 's a
weel-meanin' bit craturie, Maister Peebles, an' handy wi' a magic
lantern. Sall," and then Hillocks became incapable of speech, and you
knew that the thought of Dr. Davidson explaining comic slides had quite
overcome him.

This visitation counted as an event in domestic life, and the Doctor's
progress through the Glen was noted in the kirkyard, and any special
remark duly reported. Nothing could be more perfect than his manner on
such occasions, being leisurely, comprehensive, dignified, gracious.
First of all he saluted every member of the family down to the bairns
by name, for had he not at least married the heads of the household,
and certainly baptised all the rest? Unto each he made some kindly
remark also--to the good man a commendation of his careful farming, to
the good-wife a deserved compliment on her butter; the eldest daughter
was praised for the way in which she was sustaining the ancient
reputation of Hillocks' dairy; there was a word to Hillocks' son on his
masterly ploughing; and some good word of Dominie Jamieson's about the
little lassie was not forgotten. After which the Doctor sat
down--there was some difficulty in getting the family to sit in his
presence--and held a thorough review of the family history for the last
year, dwelling upon the prospects of Charlie, for whom the Doctor had
got a situation, and Jean, the married daughter, whose husband might
one day have a farm with four pair of horses in the carse of Gowrie.
The Doctor would then go out to give his opinion on the crops, which
was drawn from keen practical knowledge--his brochure on "The Potato
Disease: Whence it Came and How it is to be Met" created much stir in
its day--and it was well known that the Doctor's view on bones or guano
as a preferable manure was decisive. On his return the servants came
in--to whom also he said a word--and then from the head of the table he
conducted worship--the ploughmen looking very uneasy and the children
never taking their eyes off his face, while the gude-wife kept a
watchful eye on all. At the prayer she was careful to be within arm's
reach of Hillocks, since on one memorable occasion that excellent man
had remained in an attitude of rapt devotion after the others had risen
from their knees, which sight profoundly affected the family, and led
the Doctor to remark that it was the only time he had seen Hillocks
play the Pharisee in public. The Doctor's favourite passages were the
eulogium on the model housewife in Proverbs, the parable of the Good
Samaritan, and the 12th chapter of Romans, from which he deduced many
very searching and practical lessons on diligence, honesty, mercy, and
hospitality. Before he left, and while all were under the spell of his
presence, the Doctor would approach the delicate subject of Hillocks'
"tout-mout" (dispute) with Gormack over a purchase at a roup, in which
it was freely asserted that Gormack had corrupted the Kildrummie
auctioneer, a gentleman removed above pecuniary bribes, but not
unaffected by liquid refreshment. So powerfully did the Doctor appeal
to Hillocks' neighbourliness that he took snuff profusely, and
authorised the Doctor to let it be understood at Gormack that the
affair was at an end, which treaty was confirmed by the two parties in
Kildrummie train, when Hillocks lent Gormack his turnip-sowing machine
and borrowed in turn Gormack's water-cart. Mr. Curlew had more than
once hinted in the Presbytery of Muirtown that Dr. Davidson was not so
evangelical as might be desired, and certainly Mr. Curlew's visitation
was of a much more exciting nature; but St. David's congregation was
never without a quarrel, while the Doctor created an atmosphere in
Drumtochty wherein peace and charity flourished exceedingly.

Whatever might be urged in praise of his visitation, surely the Doctor
could never be more stately or fatherly than on Sacrament Sabbath, as
he stood in his place to begin service. His first act was to wipe
elaborately those gold eye-glasses, without which nothing would have
been counted a sermon in Drumtochty Kirk, and then, adjusting them with
care, the Doctor made a deliberate survey of the congregation,
beginning at his right hand and finishing at his left. Below him sat
the elders in their blacks, wearing white stocks that had cost them no
little vexation that morning, and the precentor, who was determined no
man, neither Saunders Baxter nor another, should outsing him that day
in Coleshill. Down the centre of the kirk ran a long table, covered
with pure white linen, bleached in the June showers and wonderfully
ironed, whereon a stain must not be found, for along that table would
pass the holy bread and wine. Across the aisle on either side, the
pews were filled with stalwart men, solemn beyond their wonted gravity,
and kindly women in simple finery, and rosy-cheeked bairns. The women
had their tokens wrapped in snowy handkerchiefs, and in their Bibles
they had sprigs of apple-ringy and mint, and other sweet-scented
plants. By-and-by there would be a faint fragrance of peppermint in
the kirk--the only religious and edifying sweet, which flourishes
wherever sound doctrine is preached and disappears before new views,
and is therefore now confined to the Highlands of Wales and Scotland,
the last home of our fathers' creed. The two back seats were of black
oak, richly carved. In the one sat the General and Kate, and across
the passage Viscount Hay, Lord Kilspindie's eldest son, a young man of
noble build and carriage, handsome and debonair, who never moved during
the sermon save twice, and then he looked at the Carnegies' pew.

When the Doctor had satisfied himself that none were missing of the
people, he dropped his eye-glass--each act was so closely followed that
Drumsheugh below could tell where the Doctor was--and took snuff after
the good old fashion, tapping the box twice, selecting a pinch,
distributing it evenly, and using first a large red bandana and then a
delicate white cambric handkerchief. When the cambric disappeared,
each person seized his Bible, for the Doctor would say immediately with
a loud, clear voice, preceded by a gentlemanly clearance of the throat,
"Let us compose our minds for the worship of Almighty God by singing to
His praise the first Psalm.

"'That man hath perfect blessedness
Who walketh not astray--'"

Then Peter Rattray, of the high Glen, would come in late, and the
Doctor would follow him with his eye till the unfortunate man reached
his pew, where his own flesh and blood withdrew themselves from him as
if he had been a leper, and Peter himself wished that he had never been
born.

"Five minutes earlier, Peter, would have prevented this unseemly
interruption--ahem.

"'In counsel of ungodly men,
Nor stands in sinners' way.'"

Before the Sacrament the Doctor gave one of his college sermons on some
disputed point in divinity, and used language that was nothing short of
awful.

"Grant me those premises," he would say, while the silence in the kirk
could be felt, "and I will show to any reasonable and unprejudiced
person that those new theories are nothing but a resuscitated and
unjustifiable Pelagianism." Such passages produced a lasting
impression in the parish, and once goaded Drumsheugh's Saunders into
voluntary speech.

"Yon wes worth ca'in' a sermon. Did you ever hear sic words out o' the
mouth o' a man? Noo that bleatin' cratur Curlew 'at comes frae
Muirtown is jist pittin' by the time. Sall, ae sermon o' the Doctor's
wud last yon body for a year."

After the sermon the people sang,

"'T was on that night when doomed to know,"

and the elders, who had gone out a few minutes before, entered the kirk
in procession, bearing the elements, and set them before the Doctor,
now standing at the table. The people came from their pews and took
their seats, singing as they moved, while the children were left to
their own devices, tempered by the remembrance that their doings could
be seen by the Doctor, and would receive a just recompense of reward
from their own kin in the evening. Domsie went down one side and
Drumsheugh the other, collecting the tokens, whose clink, clink in the
silver dish was the only sound.

"If there be any other person who desires to take the Sacrament at this
the first table" (for the Sacrament was given then to detachments),
"let him come without delay."

"Let us go, dad," whispered Kate. "He is a dear old padre, and . . .
they are good people and our neighbours."

"But they won't kneel, you know, Kit; will you . . . ?"

"We 'll do as they do; it is not our Sacrament." So the father and
daughter went up the kirk and took their places on the Doctor's left
hand. A minute later Lord Hay rose and went up his aisle, and sat down
opposite the Carnegies, looking very nervous, but also most modest and
sincere.

The Doctor gave the cup to the General, who passed it to Kate, and from
her it went to Weelum MacLure, and another cup he gave to Hay, whom he
had known from a child, and he handed it to Marget Howe, and she to
Whinnie, her man; and so the two cups passed down from husband to wife,
from wife to daughter, from daughter to servant, from lord to tenant,
till all had shown forth the Lord's death in common fellowship and love
as becometh Christian folk. In the solemn silence the sunshine fell on
the faces of the communicants, and the singing of the birds came in
through the open door with the scent of flowers and ripe corn. Before
the congregation left, the Doctor addressed a few words of most
practical advice, exhorting them, in especial, to live in the spirit of
the Sermon on the Mount, and to be good neighbours. It was on one of
those occasions that he settled a dispute between masters and
men--whether the cutting of grass for the horses' breakfast should be
included in the day's work--and ended the only bitterness known in
Drumtochty.

At the kirk gate Hay introduced himself to his father's friend, and the
General looked round to find his daughter, but Kate had disappeared.
She had seen the face of Marget Howe after the Sacrament as the face of
one in a vision, and she had followed Marget to the road.

"Will you let me walk with you for a little? I am General Carnegie's
daughter, and I would like to speak to you about the Sacrament; it was
lovely."

[Illustration: "Will you let me walk with you for a little?"]

"Ye dae me much honour, Miss Carnegie," and Marget slightly flushed,
"an' much pleasure, for there is naething dearer tae me than keeping
the Sacrament; it is my joy every day and muckle comfort in life."

"But I thought you had it only once a year?" questioned Kate.

"With bread and wine in outward sign that is once, and maybe eneuch,
for it makes ane high day for us all, but div ye not think, Miss
Carnegie, that all our life should be ane Sacrament?"

"Tell me," said Kate, looking into Marget's sweet, spiritual face.

"Is it no the picture of His Luve, who thocht o' everybody but Himsel',
an' saved everybody but Himsel', an' didna He say we maun drink His cup
and live His life?"

Kate only signed that Marget should go on.

"Noo a 'm judgin' that ilka ane o's is savit juist as we are baptised
intae the Lord's death, and ilka time ane o's keeps back a hot word, or
humbles a proud heart, or serves anither at a cost, we have eaten the
Body and drunk the Blood o' the Lord."

"You are a good woman," cried Kate, in her impulsive way, so quick to
be pleased or offended. "May I come to see you some day?"

"Dinna think me better than I am: a woman who had many sins tae fecht
and needit many trials tae chasten her; but ye will be welcome at
Whinny Knowe for yir ain sake and yir people's, an' gin it ever be in
ma pooer tae serve ye, Miss Carnegie, in ony wy, it wull be ma joy."

Twice as she came through the woods Kate stopped; once she bit her lip,
once she dashed a tear from her eye.

"Where did you go to, lassie?" and the General met Kate at the gateway.
"Lord Hay came to the drive with me, and was quite disappointed not to
meet you--a very nice lad indeed, manly and well-mannered."

"Never mind Lord Hay, dad; I 've been with the most delightful woman I
've ever seen."

"Do you mean she was in kirk?"

"Yes, sitting across the table--she is a farmer's wife, and a better
lady than we saw in India.

"Oh, dad," and Kate kissed her father, "I wish I had known my mother;
it had been better for me, and . . . happier for you."

CHAPTER XV.

JOINT POTENTATES.

Among all the houses in a Scottish parish the homeliest and kindliest
is the manse, for to its door some time in the year comes every
inhabitant, from the laird to the cottar woman. Within the familiar
and old-fashioned study, where the minister's chair and writing-table
could not be changed without discomposing the parish, and where there
are fixed degrees of station, so that the laird has his chair and the
servant lass hers, the minister receives and does his best for all the
folk committed to his charge. Here he consults with the factor about
some improvement in the arrangements of the little commonwealth, he
takes counsel with a farmer about his new lease and promises to say a
good word to his lordship, he confirms the secret resolution of some
modest gifted lad to study for the holy ministry, he hears the
shamefaced confession of some lassie whom love has led astray, he gives
good advice to a son leaving the Glen for the distant dangerous world,
he comforts the mother who has received bad news from abroad.
Generations have come in their day to this room, and generations still
unborn will come in their joys and sorrows, with their trials and their
affairs, while the manse stands and human life runs its old course.
And when, as was the case with Dr. Davidson in Drumtochty, the minister
is ordained to the parish in his youth, and, instead of hurrying hither
and thither, preaching in vacancies, scheming and intriguing, he dwells
all his days among his own people, he himself knows three generations,
and accumulates a store of practical wisdom for the help of his people.
What may be the place of the clergyman in an English parish, and what
associations of sympathy and counsel the rectory may have for the
English farm-labourer, it is not permitted to a northern man to know,
but it is one good thing at least in our poor land that the manse is
another word for guidance and good cheer, so that Jean advises Jock in
their poor little perplexity about a new place to "slip doon an' see
the Doctor," and Jock, although appearing to refuse, does "gie a cry at
the manse," and comes home to the gude-wife mightily comforted.

The manse builders of the ancient days were men of a shrewd eye and
much wisdom. If anywhere the traveller in the north country sees a
house of moderate size peeping from among a clump of trees in the lap
of a hill where the north-easter cannot come and the sun shines full
and warm, then let him be sure that is the manse, with the kirk and
God's acre close beside, and that the fertile little fields around are
the glebe, which the farmers see are ploughed and sown and reaped first
in the parish. Drumtochty Manse lay beneath the main road, so that the
cold wind blowing from the north went over its chimneys, and on the
east it was sheltered by the Tochty woods. Southwards it overlooked
the fields that sloped towards the river, and westwards, through some
ancient trees, one study window had a peep of the west, although it was
not given to the parish manse to lie of an evening in the glory of the
setting sun, as did the Free Kirk. Standing at the gate and looking
down beneath the beeches that stood as sentinels on either side of the
little drive, one caught a pleasant glimpse of the manse garden, with
its close-cut lawn and flower-beds and old summer-house and air of
peace. No one troubled the birds in that place, and they had grown
shameless in their familiarity with dignities--a jackdaw having once
done his best to steal the Doctor's bandana handkerchief and the robins
settling on his hat. Irreverence has limits, and in justice to a
privileged friend it ought to be explained that the Doctor wore on
these occasions an aged wide-awake and carried no gold-headed stick.
His dog used to follow him step by step as he fed the birds and
pottered among the flowers, and then it always ended in the old man
sitting down on a seat at the foot of the lawn, with Skye at his feet,
and looking across the Glen where he had been born and where for nearly
half a century he had ministered. Kate caught him once in this
attitude, and was so successful in her sketch that some have preferred
it to the picture in oils that was presented to the Doctor by the
Presbytery of Muirtown, and was painted by an R. A. who spent a
fortnight at the manse and departed with some marvellous heads, still
to be identified in certain councillors and nobles of the past. Both
are hanging in the same house now, far from Drumtochty, and there they
call one "Public Capaucity" and the other "Private Capaucity," and you
require to have seen both to know our kindly, much-loved Moderate.

[Illustration: "Private Capaucity."]

As John grew old with his master and mellowed, he would make believe to
work close by, so that at times they might drop into talk, recalling
names that had died out of the Glen, shrewd sayings that fell from lips
now turned to dust, curious customs that had ceased forever, all in
great charity. Then there would come a pause, and John would say, "Ay,
ay," and go away to the bees. Under the influence of such
reminiscences John used to become depressed, and gently prepare Rebecca
for the changes that were not far off, when Drumtochty would have a new
minister and a new beadle.

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