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21st August 2009

Alastair McIntyreElectric Scotland's Weekly Email Newsletter

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Dear Friend

It's your Electric Scotland newsletter meaning the weekend is nearly here :-)

You can view what's new this week on Electric Scotland at  and you can unsubscribe to this newsletter by clicking on the link at the foot of this newsletter. In the event the link is not clickable simply copy and paste the link into your browser.

See o
ur Calendar of Scottish Events around the world and add your own at

Electric Scotland News
The Flag in the Wind
Books of John McDougall
Clans and Families
Poetry and Stories
Book of Scottish Story
Biographical Record of the County of Kent, Ontario
The Sailor Whom England Feared
Recollections of a Long Life 1829 - 1915
Robert Burns Lives!
Oor Mither Tongue
John's Scottish Sing-Along
Songs of Lowland Scotland
"Curdies" a Glasgow Sketch Book
The Black-Bearded Barbarian
The Life and Public Services of Henry Wilson (New Book)
The 48th Highlanders of Toronto (New Book)
A Voice in the Wilderness (New Book)

This week we've made progress on doing our best to save the Scottish Wildcat. I have added a page to the site giving background information which you can read at

In addition we've opened a thread within our Aois Community so we can discuss more about what we might be able to do to help. You can read this thread at


The Scottish Studies Society is hosting its Annual Scottish Sailing Cruise on Sunday, September 6th, 2009. For those close to Toronto this is a really great event. The afternoon sailing is now totally sold out but there are still a few places left on the morning sailing which boards from 11.00am. The cruise is 2 hours long. The Empire Sandy will be docked on the south side of Queen's Quay West, directly opposite Lower Spadina. You can book online at and you can also contact Maggie McEwan by email at or phone her at 905 301 5475 or contact Gordon Hepburn on 905 881 5780.

And if you do manage to make it you must try the haggis pies!!! :-)


I am also getting an increasing number of emails about various events taking place around the world and in Scotland. I am thus starting to add this information to our Aois Community "The Conservatory" forum. You can get to this at

Some of the stories in here are just parts of a larger story so do check out the site for the full versions. You can always find the link in our "What's New" section or on our site menu.

This weeks issue was compiled by Jennifer Dunn.

You can read the Flag at

Christina McKelvie MSP's Weekly diary is not available as the Parliament are now on the Summer recess.

Books of John McDougall
We've now added more chapters to the first book, Forest, Lake and Prairie...

Chapter VIII
New mission - The people - School - Invest in pups - Dog-driving - Foot-ball - Beautiful aurora.

Chapter IX
First real winter trip - Start - Extreme fatigue - Conceit all gone - Cramps - Change - Will-power - Find myself - Am as capable as others - Oxford House - Jackson's Bay.

Chapter X
Enlarging church - Winter camp - How evenings are spent - My boys - Spring - The first goose, etc.

Chapter XI
Opening of navigation - Sturgeon, fishing - Rafting timber - Sawing lumber.

Chapter XII
Summer transport - Voyageurs - Norway House - The meeting place of many brigades - Missionary work intensified.

Chapter XIII
Canoe trip to Oxford - Serious accident.

Here is how chapter IX starts...

DURING our first winter I accompanied father on a trip to Jackson's Bay and Oxford House. This is about 180 miles almost due north of Norway House, making a trip of 360 miles.

Our manner of starting out on the trip was as follows: William Rundle, father's hired man, went ahead on snow-shoes, for there was no track; then came John Sinclair, the interpreter, with his dogs hitched to a cariole, which is a toboggan with parchment sides and partly covered in, in which father rode, and on the tail of which some of the necessary outfit was tightly lashed; then came my train of dogs and sleigh, on which was lashed the load, consisting of fish for dogs and pemmican and food for men, kettles, axe, bedding—in short, everything for the trip; then myself on snow-shoes, bringing up the rear.

Now, the driver of a dog-sleigh must do all the holding back going down hill; must right the sleigh when it upsets; keep it from upsetting along side hills, and often push up bids; and, besides all this, urge and drive the dogs, and do all he can to make good time.

This was my first real winter trip with dogs, and I very soon found it to be no sinecure, but, on the contrary, desperate hard work.

Many a time that first day I wished myself back at the Mission.

The hauling of wood, the racing across to the fort—all that had been as child's play; this was earnest work, and tough at that.

My big load would cause my sleigh to upset; my snow-shoes would likewise cause me to upset. The dogs began to think, indeed, soon knew I was a "tenderfoot," and they played on me.

Yonder was William, making a bee-line for the north, and stepping as if he were going to reach the pole, and that very soon, and Mr. Sinclair was close behind him; and I, oh! where was I, but far behind? Both spirit and flesh began to weaken.

Then we stopped on an island and made a fire; that is, father and the men had the fire about made when I came up. Father, looked mischievous. I had bothered him to let me go on this trip.

However, the tea and pemmican made me feel better for a while, and away we went for the second spell, between islands, across portages, down forest-fringed rivers and bluffs casting sombre shadows. On my companions seemed to fly, while I dragged behind. Oh, how heavy those snow-shoes! Oh, how lazy those dogs! Oh, how often that old sleigh did upset! My! I was almost in a frenzy with mortification at my failure to be what I had presumed to think I was. Then I did not seem to have enough spirit left to get into a frenzy about anything.

When are they going to camp? Why don't they camp? These were questions I kept repeating to myself. We were going down a river. It was now late. I would expect to find them camped around the next point, but, alas! yonder they were disappearing around another point. How often I wished I had not come, but I was in for it, and dragged wearily on legs aching, back aching, almost soul aching.

Finally they did camp. I heard the axes ringing, and I came up at last.

They had climbed the bank and gone into the forest. I pushed my sleigh up arid unharnessed my dogs, and had just got the collar off the last one in time to hear father say, "Hurry, John, and carry up the wood." Oh, dear! I felt more like having someone carry me, but there was no help for it.

Carrying ten and twelve feet logs, and you on snow-shoes, is no fun when you are an adept, but for a novice it is simply purgatory. At least I could not just then imagine anything worse than my condition was.

Snow deep and loose, by great dint of effort get the log on to your shoulder and then step out; bushes and limbs of trees, and your own limbs also all conspiring, and that successfully, to trip and bother, and many a fall is inevitable, and there is a great number of logs to be carried in, for the nights are long and cold.

You can read the rest of this chapter at

The book index page where you can get to the other chapters is at

Clans and Families
Got in the newsletter of the Clan Leslie Society International which you can read at

We've also started a thread to discuss the state of Clan Societies in which we're investigating why more people don't join their clan society. We'd certainly welcome your input to this discussion which you can get to at

Doug Ross kindly sent in some pictures of Scottish Clan Chiefs taken at the Gathering in Edinburgh and you can see these at

Poetry and Stories
Donna has been posting up some family stories which give us life lessons.

You can read these stories in our Article Service and even add your own at

Book of Scottish Story
Thanks to John Henderson for sending this book into us.

This week he's sent in chapter 4 of "Basil Rolland" which starts...

Basil was dreaming about Mary Leslie when he was awakened by the dreadful note of preparation. The bugles were sounding, men and horses hurrying to and fro, and a body of Cameronians- or "hill-fouk "—had formed themselves into a conventicle beside his tent, and were listening with the greatest attention to a favourite preacher. When he came out, the scene was beyond measure animating. There was no trace of the late storm, and the little birds sang their accustomed songs. All was bustle, both in the camp of the Covenanters and that of the royalists. The latter were repairing the fortifications of the bridge, which had suffered in the last night’s attack. The royalists were already under arms, but Montrose had no design of attacking them, till the ebbing of the tide should render the lower fords passable in case he should be unable to force the bridge. The Covenanters remained idle during the forenoon, while the royalists stood in order of battle, uncertain as to the time of attack.

About two in the afternoon, the shrill sound of a bugle collected the Covenanters to their standards ; and Aboyne’s sentinels, who till now had kept on the south bank of the river, fell back to the main body. Our hero was ordered by Montrose to lead a body of horsemen to the lower ford, to remain there till informed of the bridge’s being taken, when he was to push to the town and guard Aboyne’s house from being plundered, and seize on all papers that might be found in it. He departed accordingly.

Aboyne, being aware that Montrose’s intention was to storm the bridge, drew all his forces to its defence. In a valley, at a small distance from the bridge, Montrose stationed the flower of his army, and, with the rest, including the waggoners and other followers of the camp, to make a more formidable appearance, made a feint as if he intended to ford the river above the bridge. This stratagem succeeded, for Aboyne instantly withdrew the greater part of his forces to oppose them, and thus left the most important station almost at the mercy of the enemy. The ambuscade rose immediately and advanced even to the cannons’ mouths. The artillery, however, of that period, was not so formidable as it is now. It was ill•served, ill-directed, and did little execution. A brisk engagement took place at the bridge, which, however, was maintained but a few minutes ; for the Covenanters, clearing the bridge of its defenders, and quickly removing the barricades, opened to the right and left a path for their cavalry, who drove the citizens off the field with considerable loss. Aboyne returned quickly with his men to assist the citizens, but their courage was now damped with their loss ; so that, by the first charge of the Covenanters, their ranks were broken, and they began to fly in every direction. It was no longer a battle but a rout. The Covenanters hewed down without mercy their flying enemies; and, so exasperated were they at their obstinate fickleness in former times, that the more merciful among them were hardly able to obtain quarter for those who confessed themselves vanquished. Aboyne, with great exertion, having rallied one hundred horse, made for the town, determined if possible to defend it. Montrose dispatched a party after him, and both, plunging their rowels into their horses' sides, dashed forward over friends and enemies indiscriminately, and arrived close at each other’s heels in the town. There was no possibility of shutting the gates; so both entered by St Nicholas Port at the same instant. The intention of Aboyne was thus frustrated, and he found it not an easy matter to escape with his followers by the Gallowgate Port.

The can read the rest of this chapter at

All the other stories can be read at

Biographical Record of the County of Kent, Ontario
Our thanks to Nola Crewe for sending these into us.

WILLIAM GRANT, a retired agriculturist of Dover township, has for nearly half a century prominently identified himself with the industrial and public affairs of his township. Strength in overcoming obstacles, courage in making new ventures, and a persistency in carrying forward each undertaking to a successful issue are among his dominant traits. Mr. Grant is a thorough Scotchman both by birth and ancestry.

William Grant, his grandfather, a shepherd by occupation, passed his life for the most part among the rugged hills of Scotland. There, as a young man, he married Margaret Halliday, and among their children was a son James.

James Grant, father of William, passed his early life in Coldingham, Scotland. In that country he married Elizabeth Brown, daughter of Thomas Brown, a blacksmith, and his wife, Margaret (Blair). Mrs. Grant died in 1888, at the age of eighty-two years, and is buried in Maple Leaf Cemetery. Their union was blessed with seven children: William, who is mentioned below; Thomas, a retired farmer, now residing in Detroit, Michigan; John (deceased), who was a prominent contractor and builder of Chatham, Ontario; Peter (deceased), who was a farmer in Iowa; Maggie, who married Jonathan Woodall, a shoemaker of Port Dalhousie, Ontario; Jennie, widow of William Breckenridge, now residing with her brother Thomas; and Elizabeth, who married Alexander Robertson, a wagon and carriage manufacturer, of Fletcher, Ontario.

You can read the rest of this bio at

The Sailor Whom England Feared
Being the Story of John Paul Jones, Scotch Naval Adventurer and Admiral in the American and Russian Fleets By M. Mac Dermot Crawford.

We've now completed this book with the following chapters...

Chapter XXII - 1783 - 1788
Chapter XXIII - 1788 - 1789
Chapter XXIV - 1789 - 1790
Chapter XXV - 1789 - 1792

Here is how Chapter XXII starts...

OUT of touch as he was with the hourly changes, the gossip and intrigue of his Paris, Jones came back very quietly, wishing to pick up the broken links before announcing his return. With this end in view, he went to the Hotel de Beauvois, where he was unknown, sending word to the American Minister, Thomas Jefferson, of his arrival, and Jefferson called on him immediately. We know from his complaints to Aimee de Telusson that letters had been few and far between, and if those from her had never reached their destination, such as were written by casual correspondents shared a like fate, and Jefferson's gossip fell on eager ears long strangers to news of a world which held for him such brilliant and tender memories. Aimee, he learned, had received the appointment of Court reader, translator of English plays and periodicals, and was living at Versailles. Almost in the same breath Jones received information which radically changed his future career, for Mr. Jefferson told him he had been requested by Baron Simolin, the Russian Ambassador, to lay before him a proposition which was, in brief, an unofficial offer of service in the Russian navy.

In his journal Jones says, "I was at first inclined to view the proposition as chimerical, though I knew that the impending war between Russia and Turkey must afford grand possibilities of naval operations, because an indispensable factor in it would be the destruction of the Turkish navy in the Euxine, and the conversion of that land-locked sea into a Russian lake...

"On the other hand, I knew little of Russia or the Russians. My acquaintance with them was limited to less than a dozen personages in Imperial diplomatic service. . . . I knew not one word of the language. I could not see how it would be possible to satisfactorily direct operations of subordinates in warfare through interpreters. . . . I had formed impressions as to the genius and methods of government in Russia that accorded ill with any conception of what ought to be in that respect . . . these impressions had been wholly derived from reading. I was, of course, open to whatever lessons actual observation and experience might teach. . . . I admitted to him that it opened up a vision of ambitious hopes and dreams of glory on a grand scale too powerful and too vivid to be lightly cast aside.

"Mr. Jefferson was complimentary enough to say that while my knowledge of French would enable me to deal fully with Russians in high station, he was persuaded that my aptness at learning foreign tongues would doubtless soon remove the objections on the score of the Russian language itself. He said he had but one more duty to discharge in the premises, namely, to bring me personally in contact with the Russian ambassador.

You can read the rest of this chapter at

The other chapters can be read at

Recollections of a Long Life 1829 - 1915
By Isaac Stephenson (1915)

We've now completed this book with thr following chapters...

Chapter XIX
Early events in senatorial career - Failure to arrive at working agreement with La Follette over patronage - Requests for aid for La Follette presidential campaign - Convention of 1908 - The La Follette Platform - Nomination of Taft - The senatorial campaign of 1908 - Announcement of my candidacy

Chapter XX
Difficulties of primary campaign - Hostility of the La Follette organization - Setting up an organization and obstacles encountered Tactics of opposition Election and repudiation of primary by La Follette forces Investigation by state legislature - Standards of propriety in campaign expenditures Vindication by investigating committee - Investigation by United States Senate - Retirement from politics

Chapter XXI
Changes in social fabric and customs in three-quarters of a century - Adaptability of human nature - Hardships of old not measure of happiness - Demand for luxuries and growing extravagance - The high cost of living - Surplus of doctors and demand for drugs - Lawyers - Dangers from excess of professional men - Work and sleep - Time and progress

Here is how Chapter XXI starts...

CASTING back over my experiences of almost fourscore years in this cursory fashion brings into rather strong relief, in my own mind at least, some interesting social phenomena which have been lost sight of under the shadow of more important and more conspicuous events.

The readiness with which human beings adapt themselves to their environment and the conditions of living oftentimes outranges the comprehensibility of those whose experiences are embraced within a limited field and an unvaried manner of living. Within my own lifetime the changes have been vast. It is difficult sometimes to convince people of the present day that human nature was able to withstand the rigors we repeatedly encountered three-quarters of a century ago, and the recital of some of my own experiences will probably be received with some incredulity. The whole fabric of living has been altered within that time. The things that go to make up the day's routine, work or play, are different. And who knows what changes the next fifty years will have wrought?

Nevertheless, human nature has conformed to the changes that have occurred with much greater facility than might be imagined by those whose span of life has been too short to enable them to realize their extent. People met with equanimity the rigors of old. With probably too much equanimity they have accepted the comforts and luxuries of the new scale of living, a fact worthy of consideration in weighing the morals of our present community life.

In my early boyhood in New Brunswick, one of the oldest settled regions on the western continent, work began at early dawn, as I have said, and continued until darkness brought it to an end. Every family was clothed with the wool from its own flock of sheep grazed on the commons, and the carding, spinning, weaving, and knitting went on incessantly. There were no stoves nor lamps nor many of the conveniences now regarded as necessities. Domestic activity, centered upon the big open hearths, and for artificial light we depended upon candles of our own molding. No moment was wasted. The exigencies of the time afforded no leisure. And even these conditions, I have no doubt, were an improvement upon those which confronted the greater number of immigrants to the western world.

Yet life seemed to hold its full measure of happiness. There was no idleness to breed discontent. There were no false standards of living to stir up dissatisfaction and envy. The luxuries which now afford so many opportunities for excursions into the field of extravagance simply did not exist.

You can read the rest of this chapter at

We now have several chapters up which can be read at

Robert Burns Lives!
By Frank Shaw

Frank has sent us in a couple of Press Articles, one about a series of Burns lectures at the Mitchell Library, and the other about a new research centre at Glasgow Universities campus in Dumfries.

You can get to these articles at

Oor Mither Tongue
An Anthology of Scots Vernacular Verse by Ninian Macwhannell (1938) and our thanks to John Henderson for sending this into us.

We have new poems up this week by...

The Table o' Fees
The Sparrow
To a Young Lawyer

which you can read at

John's Scottish Sing-Along
Provided by John Henderson

This week we've added...

Down in the Glen
Afton Water
Come by the Hills

You can find these songs at

Songs of Lowland Scotland
From the times of James V, King of Scots, A book of c. 600 pages of songs published in Scotland in 1870, and arranged in episodic form by John Henderson.

We've added a further 30 pages this week as a pdf file which you can get to at

"Curdies" a Glasgow Sketch Book
By Hugh S. Roberton

We've added another chapter this week...

Chapter IX - Santa Claus

These are all pdf files and I have to say I'm really enjoying these stories and getting a good chuckle at the same time :-)

You can read these at

The Black-Bearded Barbarian
The Life of George Leslie Mackay of Formosa by Marian Keith

we now have further chapters up from this book...

Chapter 3 - Reconnoitring the Territory
Chapter 4 - Beginning the Siege
Chapter 5 - Soldiers Two
Chapter 6 - The Great Kai Bok-Su
Chapter 7 - Besieging Head-Hunters
Chapter 8 - Cities Captured and Forts Built

Here is how Chapter 5 starts...

And now a new day dawned for the only lonely young missionary. He had not a convert but a helper and a delightful companion. His new friend was of a bright, joyous nature, the sort that everybody loves. Giam was his surname, but almost every one called him by his given name, Hoa, and those who knew him best called him A Hoa. Mackay used this more familiar boyish name, for Giam was the younger by a few years.

To A Hoa his new friend was always Pastor Mackay, or as the Chinese put it, Mackay Pastor, Kai Bok-su was the real Chinese of it, and Kai Bok-su soon became a name known all over the island of Formosa.

A Hoa needed all his kind new friend's help in the first days after his conversion. For family, relatives, and friends turned upon him with the bitterest hatred for taking up the barbarian's religion. So, driven from his friends, he came to live in the little hut by the river with Mackay. While at home these two read, sang, and studied together all the day long. It would have been hard for an observer to guess who was teacher and who pupil. For at one time A Hoa was receiving Bible instruction and the next time Mackay was being drilled in the Chinese of the educated classes. Each teacher was as eager to instruct as each pupil was eager to learn.

The Bible was, of course, the chief textbook, but they studied other things, astronomy, geology, history, and similar subjects. One day the Canadian took out a map of the world, and the Chinese gazed with amazement at the sight of the many large countries outside China. A Hoa had been private secretary to a mandarin, and had traveled much in China, and once spent six months in Peking. His idea had been that China was everything, that all countries outside it were but insignificant barbarian places. His geography lessons were like revelations.

His progress was simply astonishing, as was also Mackay's. The two seemed possessed with the spirit of hard work. But a superstitious old man who lived near believed they were possessed with a demon. He often listened to the two singing, drilling, and repeating words as they marched up and down, either in the house or in front of it, and he became alarmed. He was a kindly old fellow, and, though a heathen, felt well disposed toward the missionary and A Hoa. So one day, very much afraid, he slipped over to the little house with two small cups of strong tea. He came to the door and proffered them with a polite bow. He hoped they might prove soothing to the disturbed nerves of the patients, he said. He suggested, also, that a visit to the nearest temple might help them.

You can read the rest of this chapter at

You can read the other chapters at

The Life and Public Services of Henry Wilson
A new book we're starting about the Late Vice President of the United States by Rev. Elias Nason and Hon Thomas Russell (1876)

A STATESMAN eminent for patriotism and integrity is a national instructor. The record of his life, his services, and his opinions, is, to some extent, an exposition of the spirit and progress of the people whom he represents; and the people have the right to claim it, not only as a memorial of the past, but as an inspiration for the present, and a light for times to come.

Pre-eminently may this be asserted in regard to the distinguished man whose biography we now purpose to write.

Holding himself steady to his noble purposes, he was so prominent an actor in the remarkable events of the last twenty years, he was so identified with the life of the republic, that an account of his official career becomes, in some respects, the key to the history of the country for that period; while in the development of the principles of freedom which he made, in the consistent life he led, and in the counsel he imparted, we have our hopes in the permanency of popular government brightened, and our steps directed as we rise to national strength and grandeur.

In making a register of his life, the authors have had access to original sources of information, and have availed themselves of every aid within their reach for the verification of their statements as to matters of fact. They have endeavored to present opinions frankly and fairly, and to render this biography as complete as the allotted time and space would permit.

If this book, in spite of any errors, tends to do justice to the character and course of one of the representative men of the present times, to give dignity to labor, to inspire working-men with confidence in themselves, and stronger love for our country, the end for which it is written will be attained.

The first chapter is now up and you can read this at

The 48th Highlanders of Toronto
By Alexander Fraser, M.A. (1900)

Another new book we're starting and here is what the Preface has to say...

In writing the history of a regiment formed not more than nine years ago, the advantage lies in the abundance of the material at hand. Brief the period may be, and uneventful the record, but the whole story is still fresh in the memory, and no fact of interest or importance need be overlooked. On the other hand, it is a matter of constant regret with respect to some of the old regiments, particularly some of the old Highland regiments that so little is definitely known of the details of their organization, and much would be given if the neglect of the time long ago could be repaired. I entering upon the last year of its first decade as its military organization the time seems opportune to place on permanent record in a worthy and befitting form the interesting story of the origin and growth of a regiment occupying so conspicuous a place in Active Militia of Canada as does the 48th Highlanders of Toronto.

Though one of the latest battalions added to the Canadian Militia, it is one of the most distinguished, efficient and popular of them all. Wearing the Highland uniform, and headed by a band of pipers. It is a gallant corps, of which members of all nationalities, but especially those of Scottish connection, are justly proud. It has attracted to its ranks all body of men, who have at all times taken a part in maintaining the honour of the regiment worthily, and a morale of the very highest character. This was to have been expected from the history of Highland regiments in the past, when, under all circumstances, duty and discipline have ever been the watchword and motto of the Highland soldier, and the gallant 48th has shown itself to be mindful of the glorious traditions of its predecessors.

While this work is essentially a history of the 48th Highlanders, it is but natural to suppose that the idea such a Corps represents is wider and touches interests beyond the regiment itself which are dear to the Scotchman the world over, and are appreciated wherever the true military spirit exists. The martial ardour of the Gael, his aptitude for soldiering, and his services in the held have been the subject of fitting. though necessarily brief, reference in these pages. The association of Highland regiments of the regular army with Canada has been also briefly noticed, and an unbroken Connection from Quebec to the present duty traced between the highland soldier and the Dominion.

The official documents from which the information was drawn were placed in the hands of Mr. Alexander Fraser, the well-known journalist and Scottish author, who was Secretary of the Citizens Committee which carried the movement for the establishment of the 48th Highlanders to a successful issue. He is thoroughly conversant with all the details of the formation of the regiment from inception of the movement, and with the record of the corps up to the present. He received all necessary assistance from the officers of the regiment, so that this work may be taken as accurate and complete. [The Publisher.]

I now have up...

Part I

Chapter 1 - The Martial Spirit of the Gael
Chapter 2 - Highland Regiments in Canada

Part II

Chapter 1 - Forty-Eighth Highlanders: Formation of the Regiment

You can read this at

A Voice in the Wilderness
By Duncan Shaw (1995)

Ranald McIntyre advised of this book which he thought would be well worth reading and he kindly contacted the author for us and got his permission to put the book on the web site and so we now have the first chapter up for you to read. Here is something about him to set the scene...

The Very Reverend Duncan Shaw, Ph.D., Th.Dr., Dr.h.c, minister of the parish of Craigentinny and formerly of St. Margaret's, Dumbiedykes, both in Edinburgh, stands in the old tradition of a scholary tradition of a scholarly committed professional whose entire life has been spent in areas where the church has always had to stuggle for a relevant place. While widely recognised and honoured as a historian, theologian, administrator and international ecumenical personality his primary concerns have been well educated apposite parish ministry and the reform of the Church of Scotland enabled again to relate vitally to a nation faced with radical changes in every aspect of its life. The contents of this little book reflect this.


At the request of a number of friends, I have selected a few addresses, some previously circulating in typescripts, which encapsulate some of my continuing concerns. They now appear, as delivered, in chronological order.

I must acknowledge that the strength to persevere in the Christian ministry has been rooted in the faithful remnant which appreciates that the church can only remain alive when continually undergoing an inner reformation.

This modest work is published in the hope that those, who share my commitment to the Kirk, will not lose heart and who may yet creatively shape the future of the church in Scotland.

Duncan Shaw
Craigentinny Edinburgh
Pentecost, 1995

You can read the first chapter of this book at

And that's it for now and hope you all have a good weekend :-)


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