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'Tis strange
how thought upon a child
Will, like a presence, sometimes press,
And when his pulse is beating wild,
And life itself is in excess-
When foot and hand, and ear and eye,
Are all with ardour straining high,-
“How in his heart will spring
A feeling whose mysterious thrall
Is stronger, sweeter far than all;
And on its silent wing,
How with the clouds he'll float away,
As wandering and as lost as they! "
N. P.
WILLIS.
RHYNIE is
for the most part a high-lying, pastoral, and sparsely peopled district.
The inhabitants are believed to be of Pictish origin, and are a sturdy,
shrewd, independent, and hospitable class of people. Their history has
predisposed them to religion, for the Seceders and the Independents have
been in the district for several generations. The Disruption conflict of
1843, which agitated Scotland from the Orkneys to the Solway Firth,
reached a climax here, for Rhynie formed part of the famous Presbytery of
Strathbogie, and its minister was one of the seven deposed by the
Evangelical majority of the Church of Scotland; and no doubt this contest
had a large share in quickening both the spiritual and intellectual life
of the people. Even forty years ago many were wont to walk six miles to
church every Sunday and six back. Weather never deterred them; indeed,
their struggle with the elements on the way seemed to harden their frames
and develop their brain-power, so that by the time they reached the house
of God their appetite was whetted for a good doctrinal discourse and
plenty of it. Short measure did not take in those days. They desired a
good meal, and on their way home the little companies beguiled the weary
miles by recalling the heads of the sermon, the observations on these, and
the inferences drawn by the preacher; while the children were appealed to
for the illustrations.
The dress of
the women was primitive in the extreme. Many went to church in the
mob-caps with a plain band of riband which fastened below the chin; while
the better class wore bonnets made of pasteboard covered with black silk,
close-fitting to the face. When these wore out they were replaced by
others of the same style and pattern. Linsey-woolsey dresses, spun from a
mixture of white and black fleeces, to save the expense of dyeing, and
tartan shawls, completed the costume. Each woman carried her Bible neatly
tied up in a white handkerchief, together with a sprig of southern wood or
a bouquet of roses if it was summer, while the other hand invariably held
a gingham umbrella! This fashion is now, however, quite obsolete, for with
the smoke of the railway engine there came a wonderful change in the
manners and dress of the inhabitants.
Looking back
over the forty years of Alexander Mackay's life, it is evident that from
the day almost that he emerged from the cradle God was preparing him in
His own way and building him a pioneer missionary. Godly parents, a pious
nurse who doted on him, the Bible-loving women of the parish, the
intelligent workmen in the neighbourhood, each and all, unknown to
themselves, and equally hidden from him, contributed a share in his
equipment for the special work which the Master needed him to do.
In 1851 the
new Free Church was erected close by the Manse; and as the stones were
dressed in the garden, a golden opportunity presented itself to the boy to
acquire practical knowledge and to use his dexterous fingers. His beauty
and extraordinary gentleness, together with his wonderful aptitude for
picking up all kinds of handicraft, speedily ingratiated him with the
workmen, who took a delight in supplying him with the necessary tools to
enable him to imagine that he was giving important assistance. When he
appeared on the scene he was accosted with the question, "Weel, laddie,
gaen to gie's a sermon the day?" and the invariable reply (in which there
was something like prophetic instinct) was, "Please give me trowel; can
preach and build, same time!"
He was full
of questions, and was never satisfied until he thoroughly understood the
reason of everything. One day he saw a man repairing a fence, and he asked
how the fence came to be so broken down. The man replied that the snow had
done it. The boy was incredulous, and after reflection he went back to the
man and asked if snow was very heavy. "No, not very," was the reply.
"Well, then, how could it break down a fence in that way?" But when it was
explained to him that it was the great accumulation of snow lying against
the fence that caused it to fall, he went away quite satisfied.
He was a
very meditative boy, and very impressible to the moods of nature. A hot
August day was his delight, and as the sunbeams played on the heathery
slopes of Noth, and glanced on the silvery streaks of the burns as they
rippled down its brow, he would tell Annie that "the mountain had donned
the regal purple in honour of the visitors who had appeared in the
neighbourhood. You know he must be old, for the Roman fort and the giant's
footprints tell of other days.
[According
to tradition, the Noth was guarded by a giant of extraordinary
dimensions:-
“Between
his een there was a yaird,
Between his shou'ders three."]
Still he is
neither blind nor deaf. He can see the unusual number of carriages in the
lanes, and feel the tread of the horsemen on his side, and no doubt
connects them with the sudden surprises of the red grouse. Hark to his
long sigh accompanying that echo of firing in the glen and the merry
laughter of the sportsmen as they bag their game, never thinking that the
birds will no more breakfast off the leaves of the heather nor peck the
cranberries which hide among its roots! But, as many of these Southerners
have attired themselves, for the nonce, in the kilt and sporan and
Glengarry bonnet, he takes it as a compliment to himself, and returns it
by putting on his brightest smile and looking his very best. You know you
like to look nice too, Annie. But why do you not iron your neck and take
out all the creases, and smooth the furrows out of your brow?"
Then Annie's
heart experienced a pang which only the aged know, and, yearning for the
society of her contemporaries, she replied, "If it's fine the morn, we'll
gang to Blackhills for a day or twa."
“Oh, that
will be delightful I But why do you look so sad, Annie?"
"Only because ye didna ken me when I was young, laddie."
But he
required all his enormous proportions to combat his foes, especially the
rival giant who guarded the hill of Bennachie, some thirteen miles
distant. A frequent exchange of compliments took place between the two, in
the shape of huge boulders thrown by the one against the other. On the Tap
o' Noth may yet be seen (?) one of these, with the marks of five gigantic
fingers thereon. On the occasion on which it was hurled, the giant of Noth
retaliated by raising a huge mass of rock with the intention of hurling it
at his adversary, who put out his foot and touched the boulder, with the
result that it remains still on Noth with the impress of the giant's toe
on it to this day! - See "Legendary Ballad Lore," by A. I. McConnochie.
"I am glad I
did not, for then you would not be old Annie, and you could not
tell me all I want to know."
On the
morrow the pair set out on their excursion to the farm. It was six miles
from the village, and situated in a lonely glen at the foot of the Buck, [The
“Buck o' the Cabrach" is mentioned by Elspeth Muckle - backit in "The
Antiquary," in her account of the coronach or Highland lament for the
dead, after the "Battle o' the Harlaw]
amidst wild and rugged scenery. Untamed nature on every side, and nothing
to disturb the silence but the birr of the moor-cock, the bleating of the
sheep, and the song of the burns intersecting the peat-moss. Every now and
again a bell-shaped foxglove or a curious-looking rock attracted the boy's
attention, and off he darted and forgot to return:
"And
heedless of his shouted name
As of the carol of a bird,
Stood gazing on the empty air,
As if some dream were passing there."
At length
they pursued their way along the sheep-track amid the brushwood and
heather, until they reached the hospitable home of Mrs. Smith, where fresh
milk, new-laid eggs, and heather honey regaled the weary-footed travellers.
The repast
over, they drew round the blazing fire of wood and peat, for the sun had
gone down and a chilly breeze blew from “the Buck." The chimney was open
to the heavens, and in the settle hung legs and shoulders of smoked
mutton. The busy knitting-needles glanced in the firelight as the two old
friends entertained each other with cherished stories which they had
learned in childhood of the Brothers Erskine and of their father, the
sainted Henry Erskine, who had been condemned to imprisonment for
preaching at "conventicles," and how through the intercession of friends
the sentence was commuted to banishment from the kingdom. The boy, seated
on a low stool, listened appreciatively until Mrs. Smith produced her
wheel and began to spin the wool yielded by the previous clipping. He then
became oblivious to his friends and their conversation, -
"While
flashes of intelligence dart from his pale-blue eyes,
Broad beams of golden humour, and long looks of surprise,
And laughter ripples o'er his lips, and joy like sunshine lies
Upon the fair fields of his cheeks, and danceth in his eyes."
The friends
exchanged glances, and in private afterwards talked of the peculiar look
in his face, which spoke of a future, and wondered what that future would
be.
“Yet
evermore the mystery which rang him round did press
Upon their larger sense, and set their riper wits to guess, -
To guess, but ever miss the mark, to flounder and to fall,
To wonder quite as much at him, as he, sweet child, at all.”
For even
their love for him did not foresee that the impression which he took and
photographed in his mind of that spinning-wheel would be reproduced
thirty-five years afterwards for Mwanga, King of Uganda!
The
following summer, when he was nearly four years of age, he spent a month
at Blackhills; and this visit did him much good, for Mrs. Smith would
allow him no lessons except to read a chapter from the Bible aloud to her,
morning and evening. She was so proud of his attainments, however, that
when a distant neighbour from some lonely cottage among the hills dropped
in, she would put her hand in the "crap" in the wall beside the "saut
poke" in the "ingle neuk" for the big Bible, and calling the boy, would
tell him to read aloud the tenth chapter of Nehemiah. He did this,
pronouncing with accuracy the names of those who sealed the covenant, and
preserving the inflections so as to read gracefully.
Mr. Smith,
the present tenant of the farm, tells how, on this visit, the boy followed
him wherever he went at his work:
“Whether the
farmer swung the scythe or turned the hay,"
or
“Merrily,
with oft-repeated stroke,
Sounds from the threshing-floor the busy flail,”
there the
child was, inquiring the reason for everything he saw done, and
understanding the explanation as easily as a grown-up person.
"One day,"
Mr. Smith says, “I was taking up some small stones out of the ground, and
I asked him to fetch me a small pick. He went, but as he did not return, I
knew that something was preventing him from doing what he undertook. So I
went to see what was the matter, and found that he had not fully
understood the kind of tool I wanted, but having found a large pinch
lever, which he had seen used for taking up stones, he was bringing
it. It was six feet long, and by far too heavy for him to carry; still, he
had succeeded in bringing it fifty yards or so. The way he accomplished it
was by lifting one end at a time, and going round with it, and then going
to the other end and doing the same thing, and every turn brought it six
feet on! This shows his readiness of resource, and his determination to
accomplish whatever he took in hand, even at four years of age."
In order to
draw him ou.t, the farmer amused himself by arguing occasionally with him
on different subjects; but the boy got tired of arguments, and said, one
day, quite gravely, "Now, Mr. Smith, we must not have any more disputes in
this way, but, as 'the law is open,' we will settle everything there where
it ought to be settled, and let us live in peace henceforward." Another
time he went to the byre while the cows were being milked, and expatiated
on the difference between the higher and lower animals, taking himself as
an example of the higher and the cows of the lower. When some one remarked
that "the brute creation know more than they get credit for," he replied,
"Oh, yes, I allow the lower animals have instinct, but that is
different from the power of reason in man, although it is very useful to
them. It helps them to preserve their lives, and sometimes it helps them
to preserve the lives of their masters too."
A niece of
Mr. Smith says, "When my sister and I were children, nothing was such a
treat to us as to get Our mother to tell us sayings and doings of Mackay
when he was a child. She was so happy in recalling them, and invariably
concluded her stories with the remark, "I did like that laddie!"
When he was
five years of age, the regime of his old nurse came to rather a
sudden end. One morning a heavy fall awoke him, and as the curly head
raised itself from the pillow, the blue eyes opened wider and wider, as he
saw his friend lying prostrate on the nursery hearth, with her head in
close proximity to the fire. In a minute he was up, dragging and pulling
her out of danger; but, failing in his efforts to move her, with wonderful
foresight he returned to his cot, and seizing his quilt, tucked it well
over her head, lest a blazing log should fall on her. He then sped like
lightning to his parents' room, exclaiming,
"Annie is dead! I am sure she is dead! "
Annie,
however, recovered, and in a few days was herself again. But it was
thought advisable that she should have some lighter occupation, so she
invested her savings in furnishing a small house in Old Aberdeen,
conveniently situated for letting lodgings to students attending King's
College.
The prospect
of her departure was the boy's first real grief. When the day came for
their last walk Annie said, "Cheer up, laddie! I'm comin' back to see ye
ilka summer; but we'll gang the noo to the Brig o' Bogie. I want to show
ye something afore I gae awa'."
When they
reached the bridge, Annie sat down to rest on the stone coping of the low
wall, while the boy leaned idly over, wondering what was to be seen. After
a little Annie said, "I'm gaen awa' the morn!" but he was already absorbed
in the click-clack of the mill-wheel, and he heard her not.
After
repeated efforts to gain his attention, she pulled his sleeve, saying,
"I'm nae gaen to let anybody whip my bairn when I'm awa';" and producing a
little leather "tawse" out of her pocket, she dropped it into the stream.
It took the
boy a minute to forget the wheel and to realise the situation, but when he
did so he darted to the other side of the bridge, screamed, and then
rushed down the bank and into the Bogie. Annie was in terror, for she was
too weak to follow him, and some parts of the stream were deep. She
succeeded, however, in attracting the notice of a man in an adjoining
field, who was singing blithely as he followed the plough. This man kindly
rescued the child from the water and tried to reason with him:
"But his
young heart, was swelling
Beneath his snowy bos'om, and his form
Straightened up proudly in his tiny wrath,
As if his light proportions would have swelled,
Had they but matched his spirit, to the man."
"Ye maun hie
hame," said Annie, "and change yer droukit claes"; but with a
determination which surprised her, he quietly told her that until the tag
was recovered, or properly searched for, he would not return. Presently
the sound of merry voices coming down the hill announced that the
schoolchildren were on their way home, so he climbed up the bank on to the
road and told them of his trouble. They were highly amused, and the bigger
boys were soon wading in the Bogie. A shout and a loud "hurrah!" announced
its recovery, and a long-legged, red-haired boy, with a twinkle of humour
in his eye, restored it to the rightful owner, with the caution, "Dinna
dry it ower fast, or it'll be a' the harder for its doukin.' "
On the way
home, after reflection, he said, "Perhaps it is best you should go, Annie,
for you used to try to make me good, and how can I be good without a tag?"
"Ye are aye
gude, my bairn; ye never do naething wrang, except forgettin' to learn yer
lessons, and ye shall nae be whipped for that. Ye canna help forgettin',
whiles."
"Yes, I
ought not to forget, because if I cannot say my lessons immediately after
breakfast, papa has no time to hear me all day. Have you forgotten about
the pilgrims and the black man, Annie?"
Annie,
wishing to divert his attention, affected ignorance.
"Well, you
know, Annie, the pilgrims had stopped all night with the shepherds on the
Delectable Mountains, and when they were leaving, the shepherds gave them
a note of directions for the way. They forgot, however, to read the note,
and they got into a black man's net before they knew, and had to stop
there a long time, till a shining one came to them, with a whip in his
hand. He let them out of the net and put them on the right way again; but
after he had heard their story, he asked them if the shepherds had not
given them a note of direction, and they said,' Yes.' “
" 'But did
you read it ?' and they said, ' No.' “
“ ‘Why did
you not read it?' and they replied, , ‘We forgot;' so he ordered
them to lie down on the grass and he whipped them sore. Then he bade them
get up and go on their way, and not to forget again. And the
pilgrims thanked him for his kindness, and went on their way softly."
Annie lived
some years after this scene, and many a time she told the story of the
boy's inflexible rectitude. |
