OF the Parish Ministers
of the district of Cromar in the early times very little seems to be
known, though in Mr. Michie's account they occasionally emerge, not
always to their credit.
A Mr. Andrew Gray,
Minister of Coull, one of the three parishes of Cromar, seems to have
been somewhat meddlesome, and brought upon himself reproof from the
Synod with the caution "Not to meddle with the exercises of any other
minister his charge, or he will be answerable." He is shown up in an
epitaph, said to have been written by the first Karl of Aboyne, as
follows:
" Little Mr. Andrew
Gray
Though void of
wit, yet full of years.
To paint him forth requires some skill
He knew so little good or ill.
He had a church without a roof
A conscience that was cannon proof
He was prelatic first, and then
Became a Presbyterian.
Episcopal once more he turned
And yet for neither would be burned.
Of whom I have no more to say
But fifty years he preached, and died"
The practice of composing witty and satirical
epitaphs continued for long, says Mr. Michie, to be a favourite
amusement with clergymen at the presbyterial dinners. In 1818, the
minister of Kildrummy was famous for such competions. and roasted a
fellow Presbyter who had written a work on the history of Scotland which
had not been enthusiastically received by the reading public. The author
had lost an arm in early life and the Kildrummy minister would have him
thus immortalized:
Beneath this stane within this knowe
Lies single-handed Sandy Lowe
He wrote a book nae ane could read
And now the creature's wi' the dead".
Another and even less reverent effusion was directed
to the Minister of Coldstone known as "Red Rab." which must have been
intended for Rev. Robert Farquharson who was minister of Coldstone and a
co-presbyter with its author in 1818, in which year the effusion is
dated. Unfortunately Mr. Michie gives but the two concluding lines of
this extraordinary production, but these after all are probably quite
enough. They read as follows :
"When at the last trump the dead shall rise,
Lie still, Red Rab, if ye be wise."
MONEY-LENDING.
Up to the year 1695, when the Bank of Scotland was
estabIished, there was no bank whatever in Scotland, and it continued to
be the only one in the country until the establishment of The Royal Bank
in 1727. Indeed so little money was there at the time that it is said
that even well into the eighteenth century, the owners of a ten pound
note might ransack half a dozen county towns without finding a merchant
with sufficient silver to change it. In those early times most business
transactions were conducted by barter. Yet even then some men acquired
wealth not only of property but of real cash. Such men, among whom were
sometimes ministers, became money lenders, and these, with landed
proprietors who took monies on deposit and lent money out at interest,
took the place of the modern bank.
So little were bank notes, or bills, in evidence even
at a date comparatively recent that the common people do not seem to
have been acquainted with even their outward appearance. It is told of
the landlord of The Cuttie Inn, whose cognomen was "Cuttie," that he
became indebted to a neighbour in the large sum of five pounds which, on
demand made, he could not at the moment pay. He had by him, however, his
hotel license, or whiskey permit, and presuming on the ignorance of his
creditor, he presented it as a five pound note in payment of the debt.
The creditor in good faith accepted the document as genuine, and quite
satisfied went his way. Some time afterwards Cuttie now ready to pay the
debt began to wonder why he had heard no complaint about his worthless
note. At last his customer called at the inn when Cuttie asked if he had
still that five pound note in his possession. "Na Na," replied the
customer, "It's Bane gang syne." To this Cuttie, nonchalantly replied:
"Never mind, it will come again." So originated an expression still
current, no doubt, in the district, "It'll come again, like Cuttie's
note."
Through the imposition of a tax, under an act of the
Convention of the Scottish Estates, dated 28th July 1630, upon interest
received for all monies so lent, information is found as to the
financial standing of the first minister of the united parish of Logie
Coldstone. His name was James Strauchane, and in the look
of Annual rentaris, Aberdeen, compiled under the said Act, it is found
that he was a man of considerable wealth. Among his twelve debtors,
whose names, with the amount of the indebtedness of each are Riven, are
several landed proprietors, one a Burgess of Aberdeen, a few local
fanners and four ministers of the gospel while the total amount
outstanding to his credit is 5800 merks.
At the time of the Reformation there was a great
scarcity of ministers, and therefore from 1560 to 1573 most parishes
were served by laymen, who were known as "readers." In 1574, Coldstone
had assigned to it its first minister, in the person of James Reid, to
whom was given at the same time the charge of Coull, Kincardine O'Neil,
Banchory-Trinitie and Birse. In this very wide field he was assisted by
readers, but the services of his own readers he paid for out of his own
munificent salary of sax score pounds, being the equivalent of ten
pounds sterling.
The list of Ministers succeeding Mr. Reid so far as I
have been able to ascertain, is as follows:Rev, David Strauton, who
continued to 1597; Rev. James Lesh continued till 1601; Rev. James
Strachan, already named 1608-1633; Robert Forbes, who departed out of
this life Jan. 12th, 1675; John Forbes, 1677 to about 1680; John
Shepherd, who, "After he spent his life in love to God and mankind, died
Mar. 1st, 1748, aged 74." James Mclnnes, who died 10th Oct., 1777 in the
62nd year of his ministry and the 88th of his age. Rev. Robert
Farquharson, from 1777, to 1826. "Rev. Andrew Tawse, for seven years
Minister at Grey-Friar's Church of Aberdeen, who, in the eighth year of
his Ministry in this parish and 47th of his age, while conducting the
solemn service of God's House on Sunday 15th Dec., 1833, was called from
the faithful discharge of his pastoral duties, and expired in presence
of his sorrowing people.' Rev. John McHardy, born Jan. 1785, from 1833
to 1866. George Davidson, from 1866.
With the exception of Mr. Strachan. whose frugal
tendencies have been already noted, little seems to be known of any of
the eight ministers who proceeded Rev. Robert Farquharson. Whatever
their influence, in their own times, may have been, we cannot doubt that
from their labours, good, or bad, was sown the seed, the harvests of
which for generations to come, will continue to be reaped.
ROUPS, SALES and THE BELLMAN
It is extremely difficult to estimate the spiritual
condition of the people in any particular age or country. Not
infrequently what is deemed by a contemporary historian worthy of record
happens to be something in the estimation of the writer, abnormal or out
of the usual. The same is true in even greater degree of unwritten
tradition, which usually preserves what to the first narrator, seemed
out of the common. Perhaps the kind of evidence most worthy of credence
comes from the written meditations of some earnest soul whose ideals as
to Christian life are pure and high, and who yet deplores, as he
depicts, conditions actually existent around him. Such evidence comes
from very early times, through St. Ternan, whose name is perpetuated in
the modern name of a town about 17 miles distant from Cold-stone, known
as "Banchory Ternan." That good man records that in his time public
roups, or sales, of farm stock and other merchandise were held at the
Church door on Sunday mornings, just before the commencement of church
service. That practice, he observes might be amended. Before the 18th
century dawned, that pious wish, so modestly expressed, had found
fulfilment. By that time the lowing of the cattle had indeed ceased, but
the echoes came into the new century through the advertising of such
sales, and other matters of a purely secular nature, which still
persisted. Throughout the 18th century not only were newspapers scarce
and little seen by the large majority of the people, but many there were
who could not read. So it was necessary that some means of advertising
should be adopted which was understood by all. Advantage was therefore
taken of the weekly assemblies at church for public worship, to whom the
bell-man would announce (for a fee, no doubt) the roups, or sales, and
all matters of public interest claiming attention during the current
week. The echoes of one of the last of such announcements thus declared
at the door of the church of Coldstone has come down to modern time. It
was delivered by the ground officer of the estate of Invercauld, who, in
announcing the letting of a number of farms in that estate, finished up
his harangue in the following words, which, and which alone, the echo
still repeats "Bogstone and 'Hill o'Bogstone an' the half pleuch o'
Knocksoul, an' a' to let, an' a' to let."
The lowing of the oxen is no longer heard, and the
bell-man no longer suggests thoughts of their presence to the minds of
assembled worshippers, yet few perhaps of the most devout will say that
in the hour of most solemn worship the ox does not at times obtrude his
unwelcome visage in the sacred tabernacle of mind and heart.
THE REVEREND ROBERT FARQUHARSON AND HOW HE GOT
SETTLED.
Regarding Rev. Robert Farquharson, a whole chapter
might be written. In his contribution to the Old Statistical Account of
Scotland, dated 1793, to which more extended reference was made in a
previous chapter, he informs us that the parish of Logic Coldstone is a
vice-patronage, the crown and Invercauld having the right to present a
minister alternately. The annual stipend of the ministry he says is
"forty-five pounds, two shillings and one penny and eleven bolls of
victual, thirty-two of which were bear (barley) and two glebes."
Added interest would have been given to his
contribution had he been pleased to give us his version of the story of
his settlement as parish minister. Such a story would have given, as
from the inside, a practical illustration of the working of patronage
then, and for half a century thereafter, existing as a public scandal
and cause of trouble to the church of Scotland.
That incident surely deserves a place in this story.
In Mr. Michie's "Logie-Coldstone," to which I am indebted for much
information about the parish, appears a quotation from "Scott's Fasti,"
in the following words:"Robert Farquharson A.M. transl. from
Kirkmichael, Abernethy Parish 3rd Nov. 1779 (delay arose from a
competition regarding the patronage which was claimed also by the Crown
and Charles Karl of Aboyne, against whom the Court of Session decided
5th Feb. and 17th of the latter year").
Of this competition or dispute, there was no lack of
evidence at the time, and echoes of the fray, as between the two
presentees Rev. Robt. Farquharson and Rev. Thos. Gordon had not ceased
to vibrate in the district when we left in 1866. Both appointees
believed apparently that possession availed not a little in matters
ecclesiasical and spiritual as well as in those of civil law, and each
determined to secure for himself prior entry into the pulpit. I am not
clear as to the mode of procedure under the obnoxious Act of Queen Anne,
passed in 1711, by which, in gross violation of the terms of the Union
between England and Scotland, solemnly entered into only four years
before, patronage was forced by the English majority upon the Scottish
church and people. At first it was understood that the consent of the
presbytery was necessary to make a legal settlement. Soon it became
evident that while an unwilling congregation and the presbytery might
debar an unwelcome presentee from ecclesiastical service, they had no
power to withhold from him or otherwise dispose of the Stipend attached
to the office. It was not long however until the law courts determined
that any presentee of the church, unless morally disqualified, must be
inducted and Ordained by the presbytery into all the duties and
privileges of that Sacred office Then it was that trouble arose. The
unwillingness of the people was overcome sometimes by military force.
Indeed I have read one minister's story of his own settlement under such
extraordinary circumstances. The people in his case had nailed up the
church door in the face of the presbytery and a squad of soldiers. The
Serjeant proposed to break down the door, but the presentee, afraid that
the heritors might not be pleased to be called on to make good the
repairs, suggested entry by the window. As the presentee was thus
effecting his entrance by the window he was met from within by a
scripture quotation delivered in a stentorian voice :"He that entereth
not by the door into the sheepfold but climbeth tip some other way, the
same is a thief and a robber." A member of presbytery, unable to get
near enough to lay his hand on the head of the kneeling presentee,
reached his objective with his cane accompanying his action with the
remark "timmer tae timmer," which was regarded as anything but kind. The
name of the parish as I remember was "Dalmailing." I should have been
disposed to say "an enemy bath done this," but that the author goes on
to show in detail the progress made from year to year under his
ministry.
In the Coldstone case the people took no part.
Probably they were too little alive at the time to be aware that a wrong
was being done. So far the presbytery had taken no action, and no doubt
the service was designed to correspond with what in more spiritual days
had been regarded as a trial service, affording the people an
opportunity of testing the acceptability of the presentee. Most likely
the (late for this trial sermon had been fixed by the presbytery. Both
presentees, at any rate, were on hand the same (lay. First came Mr.
Gordon's four sturdy men who posted themselves to guard the door. It was
a vain precaution. When Farquharson came, "he rode all unarmed and he
rode all alone," but hastily dismounting, whip in hand, and wearing the
garb of Old Gaul, he brushed aside the quaternian guard, and thus
attired, and before the astonished guard had realized the situation,
marched straight into the pulpit and preached his first sermon
unopposed.
I heard the story from many sources but none of my
informants ever mentioned any delay in assuming his Pastoral duties, or
any legal process necessary to render his incumbency valid. No doubt can
exist as to the accuracy of the report quoted by Mr. Michie which would
seem to imply a vacancy of two years ending in a legal settlement. Most
likely he had held the Position undisturbed, by virtue of possession,
without induction by the Presbytery, pending the decision of the civil
courts, of which in Scotland the highest is The Court of Session whose
decisions stand, subject only to review by the House of Lords, on
appeal. At that time, not only were questions regarding the settlement
of ministers in the national church subject to review by the civil
courts, but reference was had to them, and decisions by them rendered
regarding the discipline of the church itself. There were case, in which
ministers, who had been found by the ecclesiastical courts guilty of
gross immorality, and therefore deprived of their status as ministers,
and of their official position with its emoluments, who yet, on appeal
to the Civil Courts, had been restored to their former position and
incumbency and emoluments. The position was indeed intolerable, and
became the occasion of several secessions from the Established Church,
and was what ultimately led to the great Disruption in 1843.
Mr. Farquharson belonged to that branch of the clan
who owned a small estate known as "Alergue," if not himself the owner of
that property. There was no blood-relationship between him and our
branch of the family so far as I know, but it so happened that my
grandfather's farm, and the manse with the glebe-farm were side by side,
with only the public road between them, and relations between the two
families were close and exceedingly cordial.
For some reason Mr. Farquharson had been made a
Justice of the Peace, a distinction probably accorded him out of respect
to his connection with the Alegrue family and estate, not less than for
his fitness in other respects. Altogether he was a man under authority,
and not slow to put all his powers in active exercise when occasion
seemed to demand it. He was referred to by his people as 'prophet,
priest and king.'
One of his reported sayings, surviving through the
intervening century, gives some indication of his character, "I remember
a good turn seven vicars, but an ill turn, I remember fourteen."
Another, to the same effect which I had from an old lady who knew him
well, was "I'm a good friend but a damnable enemy."
"WE DAURNA BREW A PECK O' MAUT
Up to the middle of the eighteenth century the common
drink of the people of Scotland was ale, which was brewed in every farm
house, and under the name of "twopenny," publicly sold at the price of
two pence a Scotch pint (which, I believe, was much larger than the
English pint). It was made from malt, but was not usually of alcoholic
strength sufficient to product intoxication.
In 1725 there was passed an Act imposing on each
bushel of malt a tax of sixpence. Of course the purpose of the Act was
clearly the raising of revenue, which of necesity must ever be a burden
upon the public. At first sight the choice of malt as a subject for
excise purposes would seem quite unobjectionable. Malt was in no sense a
necessity, and a decrease of its consumption in the form of ale in the
several households of the nation could hardly of itself be regarded as
hardship or injury to the health, morals or prosperity of the people of
Scotland. And yet, innocent as the Act seemed, it is said to be seen the
cause indirectly of the flood of drunkenness and inebriety that for
generations was to be the curse of Scotland. When the large quantity of
malt required for each family is considered, it is not surprising that
the new tax was found to be a burden too heavy to bear, unless the
people were prepared to content themselves with a much less copious use
of their favourite beverage. The new tax, in a country so poor as
Scotland then was, so raised the price that the use of ale in any
considerable quantity, among the common people at least, became an
impossibility. It was therefore deemed necessary to find a substitute at
Iess expense, and this was not far to seek. Though then almost unknown
in the Lowlands, whiskey from an early period had been manufactured and
used in the Highlands of Scotland, and stills were there already in all
the glens prepared to evade the tax, and pour forth streams of so called
"Aqua Vitae" upon the thirsty land, at reasonable price. The new
beverage seemed to meet abundantly the craving for alcohol, whether
created by the old "twopenny" variety or not, but the satisfaction was
only seeming, for the name "Aqua Vitae," as applied to it was soon found
to be a misnomer. True of it, with terrible emphasis, was the saying of
Our Lord, "He that drinketh of this water shall thirst again." More vain
are its promises than those of the briny deep under a tropical sun to
slake the thirst of the sailor perishing on its bosom for want of but a
cup of water fresh and pure, distilled from the clouds of heaven.
The supply of the new beverage was abundant. Not only
was it carried from the highlands, but fleets of vessels began to
smuggle into the country ardent spirits from all the countries of
Europe. With Highland producers and foreign smugglers, the whole of
Scotland was in sympathy. They regarded all attempts to control or
suppress the traffic as an English invasion of the liberties of their
country, and consequently few seizures seem to have been effected. The
spirit of the time is reflected in the old Jacobite song, already quoted
in another connection:--
"We daurna brew a peck o' Maut
But Geordie, he maun fin' a faut,
And tae oor kale we scarce get saut
For want o' Royal Charlie."
On his advent in 1777 Mr. Farquharson found the
illicit manufacture of whiskey almost universal in Coldstone. My
impression from what I have heard is that a thorough search would have
disclosed the fact that almost every farmer in his parish, had on his
farm or in some secret place in the hills an illicit still in which he
was either directly or indirectly interested. Agricultural methods were
exceedingly primitive, laborious and unremunerative, and the
intelligence that was yet to visualize the possibilities of soil and
climate and to devise and adopt means and methods for their enlightened
exploitation had not yet been Awakened. The barbaric instincts of a
ruder period, under which the hand of power or of cunning had been wont
to appropriate, without pretence of remuneration, the hard-earned fruits
of a neighbour's industry, had happily passed. But not yet had come the
realization that participation in a traffic that in no case is of real
value to the ultimate consumer, adds nothing to his comfort, health,
wealth, happiness or well-being, or to that of his family, but on the
contrary tends ever to debase and destroy what is noblest and best in
himself, and to rob his family of the means of subsistence, was and must
ever be, in its very nature and essence, a sin scarcely less heinous,
and in its effects on society little less destructive and disastrous,
than were the sword and dagger of the semi-savages of a former
generation.
In Mr. Farquharsons day, the terrible evil of strong
drink was not realized, and on the part of the people there was no
consciousness of wrong-doing when they took part in the manufacture and
use of intoxicating liquors. Unchecked, therefore, by moral
considerations or consciousness of wrong-doing it is little wonder that
the poverty-stricken community should have availed themselves of the
opportunity, now as it seemed, providentally afforded them, for a more
remunerative disposal of the produce of their farms. It is true that the
partial abandonment of ale and the substitution therefor of whiskey as
the national beverage had not the effect immediately of advancing the
price of the latter. An increased demand for the produce of their stills
was, however, immediate, and most of the farmers were therefore directly
engaged in that industry. If there were any not so engaged there were
none who did not participate in the advantages arising from the traffic,
inasmuch as the many stills in operation made an insatiable demand for
barley, which naturally rose to prices otherwise unattainable. In
itself, the traffic was highly demoralizing. The very fact that it could
not be openly prosecuted, but must needs be carried on stealthily and in
secret, while outwardly a pretended compliance with the law had to be
maintained, could not fail to be destructive of all that was true and
honourable in the character of the offenders. Indeed, so sternly does
Nature, and that means Nature's God, demand obedience to her royal law
of truth and honour, that the Stamp of her approval is withdrawn from
the brow of the offender who, under whatever temptation, persistently
continues the pretence of being other than what he knows himself to be.
There were other aspects of the traffic not less
deplorable. The business, necessarily secret, was not always safe in
daylight, and was therefore carried on largely at night. Around the
still met young men, and, as I have heard, voting women too, In such an
atmosphere, the conversation and conduct, uncontrolled by any recognized
authority, can be imagined. Idle and drunken habits were contracted by
some, a disregard of human law, was fostered in all, and other
immoralities indulged in, in the darkness, soon became manifest in the
light. THE MINISTER ON THE BENCH
Violators of the law were tried by Justices of the Peace, and Mr.
Farquharson the new minister, was seemingly always one of the two
locally employed for that purpose. His sympathy was invariably with the
accused, and any poor person could always depend on him for the most
lenient treatment possible under the law. One poor woman to whom the
payment of the usual fine of six-pence was no light matter, was
frequently before the Court. For her, her minister had special sympathy
which he habitually manifested by himself paying her fine. In dismissing
her he was accustomed to say, "My good woman, here's your sixpence, go
away home." The time came, however, when the fine was raised to twenty
pounds sterling, and once again this "good woman" was at the bar of
Justice. As the case opened, Mr. Farquharson's colleague on the bench
said sarcastically "Let off your wifie for a sixpence, today, Mr.
Farquharson, if you dare." Mr. Farquharson scored with the reply "It's
the first request that you have made and it shall be granted." Then,
turning to the culprit he dismissed her with the usual formula, plus the
usual sixpence but with the warning never to try the like again.
In Mr. Farquharson's day, and probably still, most of the people in the
parish depended for fuel almost exclusively, on turf and peat from the
hill. The turf was cut with what was known locally as a "flachter"
spade, in thin flat slices, perhaps about 10 x 15 and about 3 inches
thick. The non-English name of this "spade" indicates its early origin,
and therefore some description of its construction and use may be of
interest. In cutting turf, the terrain was usually lined and rutted or
cut perpendicularly to a depth equal to the required thickness of the
turf by an ordinary spade into rectangular sections corresponding with
the superficial dimensions of the turf, the cutting of the under part of
the several turfs being left to be performed by the use of the flachter
spade, which therefore required considerable force. Its cutting part was
about the width of the turf, its handle long, with a cross piece about
two feet or more in length attached to its upper end. In operation, the
cross piece was not only convenient for the use of both hands but also
for the application of the superior strength of the thighs in urging
forward the cutting edge as it disengaged the turfs successively from
the subsoil, and also made easy the work of tilting them out of the way
as each succeeding turf was negotiated. Peats were dug
from banks composed entirely of decom posed
vegetation, with a depth in various localities from two or three feet in
sonic, to five or a-ix feet, or in a few places such as "The Roar Moss"
on the shoulder of Hyron's Cuiblean, to a depth said to be ten or
fifteen feet. Where drainage by gravitation was practicable, as it
always was in the hill, operations were commenced at the lowest part of
the hank where the depth of the pent soil would perhaps be little more
than sufficient for turf. The combustible material was taken out and
economically converted into fuel in its appropriate form until a bank
sufficiently deep for peat production was reached. The peat was cut
horizontally the face of the bank in front of the operator being
perpendicular. The spade was perhaps about five inches in width, with a
wing, or tusk as it was called, on the right-hand side, projecting
perpendicularly from the cutting edge, giving the tool the effect of a
square chisel, the main part in operation cutting the under, and the
tusk the right hand side, of the peat. Proceeding from left to right
along the front of the bank, one motion thus made a complete peat. In
appearance and consistency it was not unlike a liar of soap, though in
colour a dark brown. At its far end it was broken from the bank, and the
first operation was complete. The peats so dug were delivered from the
spade to a wheel-barrow specially constructed for the purpose, two or
more of which, operated by at least one extra worker, were successively
wheeled off as filled, and their contents, gently dumped on the ground.
In this condition the peats were allowed to lie till
partially dried and fit for handling without breakage, when they were
separated into little piles and upended somewhat like grain stooks, to
be thoroughly dried.It must be remembered that all
over the surface of the hill a great growth of heather which unless
burned off, retards the drying process greatly, and in wet seasons might
render it impossible. For the purpose of preparing "blair," (as
heather-cleared ground was called) for drying fuel, it was allowable to
bum the heather over a limited area actually necessary therefore in fall
or winter, but such bunting in spring or summer, while the game birds
would be nesting, was absolutely forbidden, and was properly, punishable
by law.
One year, Mr. Farquharson's hands had neglected to
make the necessary preparation in proper time, and deemed it necessary,
therefore, to do the burning out of the proper season, for which, of
course, there was no justification. Possibly the fire had spread beyond
reasonable bounds. At any rate the eagle eye of Mr. Roy the estate
"factor" was upon the offender, in rage and with all sorts of
threatening. But he reckoned without his host. Mr. Farquharson coolly
told him that he might do his worst. "You can fine me." he said, "half a
crown under law for the offence, and if you want that amount, here it is
(presenting the coin), but remember, if you take it, I shall see whether
I can get as many men between Dee and Don as will, for love or money,
make it unnecessary for me to burn blair for my peats out of season next
year." For once the mighty factor had met his match. His reply was, "For
heaven's sake, say no more about it."
KINDLY NEIGHBOURS
Mr. Farquharson had several of a family, one of whom
became a medical doctor, and another a minister. What became of them I
do not know, further than that the latter obtained a church through the
patronage system then existing. Besides his sons of whom he had, at
least three, he had daughters, one of whom afterwards became Mrs. Black.
Mrs. Black, when a young girl seems to have been exceedingly kind to my
father when a little motherless boy. With great glee, he used to tell us
a story in illustration of her kindness. He and his two sisters Jane and
Margaret had made a visit to a wooded knoll near the manse, in search of
babies, who, as they had been led by some one to believe, were to be
found in hollow tree stumps. By accident, he had stubbed his toe and
determined to return home, leaving the others to pursue alone their
hopeful but fruitless search. As he approached the Manse, he observed
for the first time that his toe was bleeding. It had been giving him no
pain or inconvenience, but the blood suggested the thought that its
wounded condition might be the means of enlisting the sympathy of the
ladies of the Manse, which in his childish troubles he had never known
to fail. Accordingly he began to cry as if something was seriously
wrong. The future Mrs. Black heard the pitiful waiI and hurried to his
aid. Greeting him with the question "What's the matter Charlie:" she got
the reply, "My tae's rinnin oot." With words of sympathy and kindness,
supplemented by something good to eat, she was able soon to dispel from
his face the gloom and disappointment of the morning, and the little
fugitive from the field of scientific research went home rejoicing and
triumphant.
My father never forgot his old friend, and as long as
he stayed in Scotland, faithfully made her a call on his every visit to
the city. Once, and that on the occasion of our first visit to Aberdeen,
my brother James and I had the pleasure of accompanying him and of being
received most kindly by the stately old lady of whom we had heard so
much. She was still alive in 1873, when I returned on a visit. Then, in
obedience to my father's instructions, I called at her residence,
accompanied by Grandfather Stewart, but she was from home and I failed
to see her. Though then a woman of eighty or more, she took the trouble
to walk through the city, over a mile to see me. Unfortunately, that day
myself and my future wife were both absent, but she left for us her
counsel, "Tell the young folks to begin laich" (low). It was counsel
kindly, timely and wise, and which I hesitate not to pass on to those
who may come after me.
REMEBER THE SABATH
In Mr. Farquharson's day, spiritual life in Scotland
generally, and in Aberdeenshire perhaps more particularly, had sunk to a
very low ebb, and it would not be fair to expect either minister or
people to measure up to the standards of a less worldly age. The
Sabbath, however, :so far as abstinence from labour and due attendance
at the services and ordinances of the church were concerned, was, I
believe, generally well observed. Most of the parishioners were
therefore surprised to discover by and bye that even in a matter so
central in their religious consciousness as was the Sabbath, their
minister had ideas of his own.
It was a harvest season of a kind not uncommon in
Scotland, in which the securing of the ripened grain was attended by
special difficulty by reason of inclement weather. The oats had been cut
and stood in the stook soaked with rain which poured down with little
intermission day after day for many days at a time, threatening the
irretrievable ruin of the whole crop. Toward the end of the work in
question, a pause occurred in the seemingly interminable down-pour, and
busy hands occupied the favouring light hours in spreading out the
sheaves in the morning, and rebinding and reshocking them at night.
Sunday dawned bright and sunny, and the smiling orb seemed to invite to
co-operation in his beneficent work the many willing hands which the
sanctity of the day and the traditions of the fathers, as well as a
personal sense of duty, restrained from labour. Perhaps the thoughts of
many of the parishioners were elsewhere that beautiful Sunday morning,
but their physical selves, as in duty bound under highest obligation,
were found in their pews at church. Promptly on time the minister took
his place, and immediately called his hearers' attention to what, in his
view, was the duty of the hour. Providence, he said, had at last
bestowed an opportunity for securing their crops, and it was their plain
duty to see that the opportunity bestowed should not be neglected. He
therefore would pronounce the benediction, and allow them to go home to
their waiting fie!ds. The congregation as dismissed accordingly, some
eagerly, some with compunction, to accept their minister's advice and
some to rest the sabbath day according to the Commandment.
My father was, a little boy, and as soon as he got
home the day looking somewhat like an ordinary day he began to whistle.
His father reproved him, telling him that the minister's advice did not
make it right to break the Sabbath law. I suppose that the tune which my
father had started had been a secular one, for never till I came to
Canada, had I heard that whistling on Sunday was, per se, considered in
Scotland to be wrong. I had, however, heard the name "Whistling Sunday"
applied to "fast days," either ecclesiastical or legal, but had never
imagined that the prohibition applied to other than secular tunes. Be
that as it may, my father, I am sure, whistled more on Sunday-than on
any other day of the week, though the tune was always appropriate to, or
associated with a psalm or hymn.
On the Sunday in question, the wisdom of the
minister's advice was not justified by results. Monday was bright and
fair, and the work of securing the crops ~vent merrily on. Those who
refrained from labour the previous day, succeeded in securing their
crops in prime condition, while many who yielded to the minister's law
of necessity, were compelled to turn over their heated stacks, or, worse
still, to haul their stuff out again to the field to dry.
In Mr. Farquharson's congregation was a man whose
chief distinction was sheer laziness. For him, his minister had for
admonition, by way of a goad:"Saunners, it would be a het (hot) day
that would gaur you prick." His reference was to the behaviour of cattle
in Scotland, under the cruel attacks, on a very hot day, of a biting
insect or fly known as the "Gleg." It gave no trouble except on hot,
sunny days, but when such occurred, as they sometimes did, these pests
would become so irritating that the poor beasts would become frantic,
and in sheer agony, with tails in air, would madly rush, at their
hardest, through the field regardless of direction or of consequence.
However derived, the word used to describe this conduct was "Pricking."
Solomon-like Mr. Farqulhar:on had one day been
observing the garden or field of this or another sluggard of the same
name, which he found full of rammacks, a kind of grass in habit or
character not unlike Canadian couch-grass. Unlike its Canadian fellow-troubler,
however, it consisted, under ground of a mass of knotty roots, each knot
being about the size of a bean. This weed was exceedingly hard to
exterminate or control as each knot left in the ground became the root
of a new plant, and not only that, but, unless burned or taken off the
field, it could not be killed. Such a process was too laborious for poor
Saunners, and the Minister, to him administered this hit of sarcasm, "Saunners,
the thole will never trouble your field. She would be hanged by rammocks."
Any estimate of Mr. Farquharson's character as a man
or a minister, in order to be fair, must take into account not only the
uncultured condition of his people, but also the spiritual deadness of
his time through the country generally, and perhaps more especially in
Aberdeenshire. That county is said to have had the misfortune of being
shepherded during the Covenanting Period by ministers, many of whom were
so void of character or conviction as to be able to accommodate
themselves to all the changes of Government policy of persecution or
favour, from Presbyterianism to prelacy and back again, without qualm of
conscience, interruption of pastorate, or failure of stipend. Out of
material so accommodating, no stand for truth and righteousness is made,
or crown of martyrdom attained. Here, I think, must be the reason that,
in Western Aberdeenshire, as far as I know, no part of the soil became
enriched with a martyr's blood, or can boast the proud honour of a
martyr's grave.
Here, not without regret, we part with a character,
in many respects kind and loveable, whose hand sprinkled the water of
baptism on the heads of all my grandfather's household, and over the
prostrate forms of most of them, so early gathered to their fathers,
spoke to sorrowing survivors of Him who is the Resurrection and the
Life.
THE MINISTER OF MY OWN DAY
On the decease of Mr. Farquharson in 1826, he was
succeeded by Rev. Andrew Tawse. who appears to have been a man of
culture and refinement, though little seems to have been locally
preserved of his memory, beyond that obtainable from his tombstone
already quoted. My Mother was present in the church on that memorable
fifteenth day of December when he suddenly expired in the pulpit while
preaching, and was much impressed, as all present must have been, by the
occurrence.
His successor. Rev, John McHardy whom I well remember
was a quiet man of simple, unassuming habits. Of the type, known in his
day, as "Moderate," he was little calculated to arouse religious fervour
in his parish or to introduce any new effort or method for the moral or
intellectual betterment of his people. He was a bachelor and seldom left
his home. From my father's door, we could see his familiar figure busied
with pitchfork and wheel-barrow, maintaining his manure pile in perfect
order or with appropriate tool, attending to the docks and thistles
that, in spite of his vigilance from year to year found place on his
farm. He was in his undemonstrative way a kind neighbour, and to us as
children showed many little kindnesses, such as treating us to fruit
from his splendid garden. To him, indeed, my mother used to say that I
owe my survival from the days of infancv. When about two years old, I
had become the victim of some childish disorder for which the doctor had
prescribed leeches, then a favourite remedy with the medical fraternity.
Either these had been too voracious, or the blood-flow had persisted
after their removal, and I had, for once in my life, fainted. My poor
mother was all alone, the rest of the household having all gone to see
the Queen, who that day was to pass at a distance of about four miles on
her way for the first time to her Castle at Balmoral. A niece of Mr.
McHardy's then residing at the Manse, Annie Dawson, who had volunteered
to stay at home and see that mother and her charge should have proper
attention, happened just then to call. Taking in the situation at a
glance, she hurried back to her uncle, who in a few minutes was on the
scene with a handful of cob-webs gathered from his stable. With his
assistance animation was soon restored, and to his kindly ministry on
that occasion, my mother at least attributed my survival. His kindness
and ready attention was all the more appreciated for the reason that my
parents had ceased since the Disruption, five years before, to be
members of his church.
In the parish, prior to 1843, vital religion seemed
to have almost died out. Religious ordinances, it is true, in form, at
least, had all along been maintained, so far as one weekly Sunday
service and the annual observance of the Communion were concerned, and
no doubt many devout souls had continued to be fed and nourished, even
by such services as were maintained, but there was no such thing as a
Sunday School, nor was afternoon or evening service ever thought of. So
far as I know, a lamp or night light of any description had never been
lighted for a religious service of any kind. The only thing that was
done by the minister, other than what has been stated or implied above,
was an annual round of catechising in selected homes of his
parishioners, to one or other of which all church members and their
households were invited and expected to come. He also visited, with more
or less diligence the sick, and of course, conducted all funerals.
This community was free from the abuses and excesses
that accompanied and characterized the huge assemblies wont to meet in
the several parishes in other parts of Scotland as they successively
celebrated the Sacrament of the Supper, but the sacred enthusiasm which,
with all their faults underlay these gatherings, found no expression in
Coldstone. Every Communicant, which meant practically all in the parish
come to years of discretion and physically fit, it is true embraced
eagerly every opportunity of observance, but in the case of many the
solemn rite had manifestly become a mere matter of form. |