_A CATECHIST_.
Mr. Geddie parted from his companions in the village, and finding he
had missed the Laird, set forth on a solitary walk back to Auchlippie.
It had been but a sorry day's work, with much that was painful in its
course, and no good done to show for it. He sighed as he passed in the
waning light the remembered landmarks of the morning, and recalled the
very different state of feeling in which he had then remarked them.
The light had faded in himself as well as in the sky overhead. Then,
was he not going forth in his might? a Gideon in armour to vanquish
the armies of the aliens? or Ithuriel, perhaps, his bright pinions
flashing in the sun, the long sharp spear of truth in his hand,
gleaming like a star, and ready to pierce through sin and falsehood?
Now it was different. The spear was blunted or had lost its point, the
wings hung limp and useless from his shoulders, and the feathers were
all in disarray, like some poor game-bird worsted in the fight, or
caught in heavy rain; the gay plumage draggled pitifully and dim, the
neck and tail, that erst stood so erect, now drooping and forlorn in
wisps of humiliation. The day had faded and the sun had gone down. It
was a new chapter added to his ministerial experience. Alas, for the
persistency of the besotted human heart in sin, and its callous
insensibility to words in season, spoken in love and faithfulness.
Mankind must be wickeder even than he had thought, and he had been
taught to believe in their total depravity. It never occurred to him
that there might be some mistake. The accusers comprised nearly the
whole body of office-bearers in the church--the excellent of the
earth, men with the same 'views' and shibboleths as himself; and
more than that, most attentive hearers and great admirers of his
preaching--the strongest possible proof in favour of their credibility
and soundness of judgment. He felt fully justified in adopting their
suspicions and accepting them as certainties--facts either already
established or about to be proved, and then with the characteristic
tenacity of the clerical mind, he held them fast. It was true that
this accused brother had hitherto led an exemplary life, that,
refusing opportunities of greater ease and emolument, he had declined
to be a candidate for more than one city charge, and that his life in
the parish had hitherto been an almost apostolic example of all the
charities and virtues; still, to err was human; and had not the most
conspicuous saints been permitted at times, (doubtless for wise
purposes and the good of their souls, in saving them from spiritual
pride), to fall into grievous sin? 'Humanly speaking,' and 'to the eye
of sense,' the man's whole walk and conversation' stamped the charge
with improbability. But what was that to the theologian equipped at
all points to contend with error? The doctrine of total depravity
removed all difficulty on that point, and the more improbable from a
mere worldly point of view, the more likely it became when attributed
to a wile of the enemy. He felt that his erring brother must have been
over confident, hence his fall. Still it was a new view of total
depravity, and an appalling one, that it should have been able to
withstand his preaching. He went over in his mind all the telling
things he had said, and considered how they might have been
intensified, but he found that he could have added little to their
force. And yet all had been in vain. His words had fallen like drops
of rain on the flinty hardness of that obdurate heart, and failed of
any effect. It was a bitter experience, but he resolved to profit by
it, and as he went along he thought over the heads for a discourse to
backsliders, in which this sad incident should be introduced, and
might perhaps even turn to good in the end, if it warned some wayward
sheep to retrace his steps.
Thus meditating, Mr. Geddie beguiled the time away. He had come within
sight of Auchlippie gate, whence Joseph Smiley was issuing at that
moment, and coming towards him. Joseph descried his reverence
simultaneously, and prepared for an interview by passing his sleeve
across his lips. 'I wuss he mayna be findin' out the dram on me,' he
muttered to himself; but added reassuringly--'Hoot, no! They're
glaiket bodies thae ministers! They wadna ken their ain parritch gin
ye didna haud the spune fornent their nebs.'
'Well, my friend!' said Mr. Geddie, with outstretched hand and a
condescending smile. 'I am glad to have another opportunity of
speaking to you. That was a very sad meeting at which I saw you give
your evidence yesterday--a sad and a humbling investigation!'
'Hech, sir, an' it was a' that. Terrible backslidings were na they,
sir? But ye see, sir, it's just the flesh 'at's sae weak. We canna a'
houpe to be strong in the word, an' able to resist, sir, as _ye_ can,
an' sae there's aye some o' 's gettin' a tum'le.'
'I fear, my friend, I must not venture to rejoice in my strength,'
replied the minister, much gratified, and smiling with pensive
radiance, as one who, after long neglect, is appreciated at last. 'It
is humility alone that can hope to pass scatheless along the seductive
paths of life.'
'Deed ay, sir. Let him 'at thinks he's stan'in' tak tent he dizna fa',
says Scripter. We're but puir craeters! That's me an' my likes, I
mean, sir. As for a godly minister an' a powerfu' preacher, wha's
praise is in a' the churches, I wadna venture to say the like o' him.'
'I fear we are all alike, Joseph! (is not that your name?) said Mr.
Geddie, slowly shaking his head, and blushing with pleasure so far as
his drab and yellow complexion would allow. 'I fear we are all alike,'
he repeated, still toying with the sweet morsel before he swallowed
it.
'Ou ay, sir! Dawvit was a man, an' sae was Sant Paul! A man of like
paussions, an' sae aiblins a body micht ventur to say o' yersel'; but
it's terrible odds atween the likes o' ye, an' hiz 'at's creepin' on
wur bellies, as I may say, just worms o' the dust!'
'Alas! alas! Joseph, there are no exceptions! Just look at the unhappy
man who has created so sad a scandal in this very parish!'
'Nae doubt, sir, an' I'm wae to think o't. But after a' he's but
young--an' he's no ordeened--an' ye ken, sir, his faither was a
moderate! That maks a terrible odds! What says Scripter? "The faithers
hae aeten soor grapes," (gye an' like the grosets, I'm thinkin', afore
they're just ripe), an the bairns' teeth is set on edge. (I see na sae
weel what that means, but I'm thinkin' it's just 'at it gars their
rotten teeth dirl). An' again the sins o' the faithers on the children
til the third an' fourth generation. Hech, sirse! It's weel for me my
granny wasna a moderate! an' as for my faither, I ne'er heard tell o'
him.'
'Yes, Joseph! (I believe I am right in calling you Joseph?) But you
have a fine lively knowledge of Scripture, and I think--I hope--I may
almost say I am sure, from what I have seen, that the root of the
matter is in you. Now, my friend, would you not like to come forward
openly, to take a plainer, bolder, stronger, nobler stand for the
truth? Does not your heart burn within you? when you see this glen and
other glens too, my brother, there are so many other glens, given over
to sin and worldliness, or it may be to moderatism--as soul-destroying
an error as any of them. Does not your heart burn within you? And do
you not feel constrained to cry aloud--"Here am I, send me?" To put it
to you in plainer, if less moving words, how would you like to be a
catechist?'
Joseph's heart did indeed burn at the suggestion, though not perhaps
exactly in the sense intended by Mr. Geddie. It had been promotion for
him when he was made beadle and appointed to carry the great Bible up
and down the pulpit stairs,--a ministrant, and in his own opinion an
essential one, in all the public functions of religion; and he loved
to skip about among the hushed and reverent worshippers, showing one
where he might sit, and admonishing another to behave. But what was
all that to being a catechist? which was 'the next door,' as he told
himself, 'to a minister a' thegither;' not merely to go up the pulpit
stairs, but to go into the pulpit and sit down, while future beadles
would meekly follow, and close the pulpit door behind his reverence.
It was too delightful! An utterly beatific vision! He had just parted
from Jean Macaulay, and his mind had been full of schemings how to
secure her for a wife. But would Jean make a help-meet for a
catechist? Even with Elspeth's croft and her savings, he feared Jean
would scarcely be equal to that higher sphere; and before even he had
replied to Mr. Geddie, he had almost made up his mind that she would
not suit.
'Aweel, sir! there's nae misdoubtin' but it wad be a preevilege to be
layin' out the truith afore the neglecket puir. But whaur was't ye was
wantin't for?'
'There is a neglected district along the coast, where the people are
too poor to support a minister; but yet they should not be left a prey
to Erastianism, and it has been proposed to send some pious man to
labour among them who would read to them and talk to them, enlighten
them on Free Church principles, and address them occasionally. How
would the work suit you? And would you like to give it a trial?'
'Aweel sir! I wad like weel to be direckin' the puir bodies the gate
they suld gang. An' what's the waages, sir? Or I'm thinkin' I hae
heard tell it's saalary ye ca' a catechist's pay, being mair
honorable.'
'About thirty pounds a-year we think we could raise. You would live
among them, of course, and you would find it a most interesting and
constant employment. I should think for an earnest and active man like
you it would be the very thing.'
'But thirty pound the year's no twal shilling e'y week, an' the folk
ye say's puir, an' gin a man gaed out an' in amang them, he beut to
help them whiles wi' siller. I see na hoo yer catechist cud do't at
the price.'
'Think on the privilege, Joseph! And if you do well no doubt we will
be able to find higher work for you.'
'Ay! But a man canna just eat an' drink his preevileges, an' he canna
sell them for siller to buy shune! I'm but a bederal, sir, but week
out an' week in, it 's liker twunty shillin's, what I can mak atween
that an' my tred.'
'Well! we must think it over, Joseph, and you can write to me what you
think you could undertake the work for, and we'll consider how much we
can give. Mr. Sangster! I am so sorry to have missed you, but I
understood you had gone home.'
'I have been waiting for you at the inn for an hour past. Never mind!
get in now.'
The Laird in his gig had driven up during the negotiation with the
proposed catechist. He now caught up Mr. Geddie, and left Joseph in
the middle of the road to pursue his reflections.