THE CUIF BEFORE THE SESSION.
"Called, nominate, summoned to appear, upon this third citation,
Alexander Mowdiewort, or Moldieward, to answer for the sin of
misca'in' the minister and session o' this parish, and to show
cause why he, as a sectary notour, should not demit, depone, and
resign his office of grave digger in the kirk-yard of this parish
with all the emoluments, benefits, and profits thereto
appertaining.--Officer, call Alexander Mowdiewort!"
Thus Jacob Kittle, schoolmaster and session clerk of the parish of
Dullarg, when in the kirk itself that reverent though not revered
body was met in full convocation. There was presiding the Rev.
Erasmus Teends himself, the minister of the parish, looking like a
turkey-cock with a crumpled white neckcloth for wattles. He was
known in the parish as Mess John, and was full of dignified
discourse and excellent taste in the good cheer of the farmers. He
was a judge of nowt [cattle], and a connoisseur of black puddings,
which he considered to require some Isle of Man brandy to bring
out their own proper flavour.
"Alexander Moldieward, Alexander Moldieward!" cried old Snuffy
Callum, the parish beadle, going to the door. Then in a lower
tone, "Come an' answer for't, Saunders."
Mowdiewort and a large-boned, grim-faced old woman of fifty-five
were close beside the door, but Christie cried past them as if the
summoned persons were at the top of the Dullarg Hill at the
nearest, and also as if he had not just risen from a long and
confidential talk with them.
It was within the black interior of the old kirk that the session
met, in the yard of which Saunders Mowdiewort had dug so many
graves, and now was to dig no more, unless he appeased the ire of
the minister and his elders for an offence against the majesty of
their court and moderator.
"Alexander Moldieward!" again cried the old "betheral," very loud,
to some one on the top of the Dullarg Hill--then in an ordinary
voice, "come awa', Saunders man, you and your mither, an' dinna
keep them waitin'--they're no chancy when they're keepit."
Saunders and his mother entered.
"Here I am, guid sirs, an' you Mess John," said the grave-digger
very respectfully, "an' my mither to answer for me, an' guid een
to ye a'."
"Come awa', Mistress Mowdiewort," said the minister. "Ye hae aye
been a guid member in full communion. Ye never gaed to a prayer-
meetin' or Whig conventicle in yer life. It's a sad peety that ye
couldna keep your flesh an' bluid frae companyin' an' covenantin'
wi' them that lichtly speak o' the kirk."
"'Deed, minister, we canna help oor bairns--an' 'deed ye can speak
till himsel'. He is of age--ask him! But gin ye begin to be ower
sair on the callant, I'se e'en hae to tak' up the cudgels mysel'."
With this, Mistress Mowdiewort put her hands to the strings of her
mutch, to feel that she had not unsettled them; then she stood
with arms akimbo and her chest well forward like a grenadier, as
if daring the session to do its worst.
"I have a word with you," said Mess John, lowering at her; "it is
told to me that yon keepit your son back from answering the
session when it was his bounden duty to appear on the first
summons. Indeed, it is only on a warrant for blasphemy and the
threat of deprivation of his liveli hood that he has come to-day.
What have you to say that he should not be deprived and also
declarit excommunicate?"
"Weel, savin' yer presence, Mess John," said Mistress Mowdiewort,
"ye see the way o't is this: Saunders, my son, is a blate [shy]
man, an' he canna weel speak for him sel'. I thought that by this
time the craiter micht hae gotten a wife again that could hae
spoken for him, an' had he been worth the weight o' a bumbee's
hind leg he wad hae had her or this--an' a better yin nor the last
he got. Aye, but a sair trouble she was to me; she had juist yae
faut, Saunders's first wife, an' that was she was nae use ava! But
it was a guid thing he was grave-digger, for he got her buriet for
naething, an' even the coffin was what ye micht ca' a second-hand
yin--though it had never been worn, which was a wunnerfu' thing.
Ye see the way o't was this: There was Creeshy Callum, the brither
o' yer doitit [stupid] auld betheral here, that canna tak' up the
buiks as they should (ye should see my Saunders tak' them up at
the Marrow kirk)--"
"Woman," said the minister, "we dinna want to hear--"
"Very likely no--but ye hae gien me permission to speak, an' her
that's stannin afore yer honourable coort, brawly kens the laws.
Elspeth Mowdiewort didna soop yer kirk an wait till yer session
meetings war ower for thirty year in my ain man's time withoot
kennin' a' the laws. A keyhole's a most amazin' convenient thing
by whiles, an' I was suppler in gettin' up aff my hunkers then
than at the present time."
"Silence, senseless woman!" said the session clerk.
"I'll silence nane, Jacob Kittle; silence yersel', for I ken
what's in the third volume o' the kirk records at the thirty
second page; an' gin ye dinna haud yer wheesht, dominie, ilka wife
in the pairish'll ken as weel as me. A bonny yin you to sit
cockin' there, an' to be learnin' a' the bairns their caritches
[catechism]."
The session let her go her way; her son meantime stood passing an
apologetic hand over his sleek hair, and making deprecatory
motions to the minister, when he thought that his mother was not
looking in his direction.
"Aye, I was speakin' aboot Creeshy Callum's coffin that oor
Saunders--the muckle tongueless sumph there got dirt cheap--ye see
Greeshy had been measured for't, but, as he had a short leg and a
shorter, the joiner measured the wrang leg--joiners are a' dottle
stupid bodies--an' whan the time cam' for Creeshy to be streekit,
man, he wadna fit--na, it maun hae been a sair disappointment
till him--that is to say--gin he war in the place whaur he could
think wi' ony content on his coffin, an' that, judgin' by his life
an' conversation, was far frae bein' a certainty."
"Mistress Mowdiewort, I hae aye respectit ye, an' we are a'
willin' to hear ye noo, if you have onything to say for your son,
but you must make no insinuations against any members of the
court, or I shall be compelled to call the officer to put you
out," said the minister, rising impressively with his hand
stretched towards Mistress Elspeth Mowdiewort.
But Elspeth Mowdiewort was far from being impressed.
"Pit me oot, Snuffy Oallum; pit me, Eppie Mowdiewort, oot! Na, na,
Snuffy's maybe no very wise, but he kens better nor that. Man,
Maister Teends, I hae kenned the hale root an' stock o' thae
Callums frae first to last; I hae dung Greeshy till he couldna
stand--him that had to be twice fitted for his coffin; an' Wull
that was hangit at Dumfries for sheep-stealin'; an' Meg that was
servant till yersel--aye, an' a bonny piece she was as ye ken
yersel'; an' this auld donnert carle that, when he carries up the
Bibles, ye can hear the rattlin' o' his banes, till it disturbs
the congregation--I hae dung them a' heeds ower heels in their
best days--an' to tell me at the hinner end that ye wad ca' in the
betheral to pit oot Elspeth Mowdiewort! Ye maun surely hae an
awsome ill wull at the puir auld craitur!"
"Mither," at last said Saunders, who was becoming anxious for his
grave-diggership, and did not wish to incense his judges further,
"I'm willin' to confess that I had a drap ower muckle the ither
night when I met in wi' the minister an' the dominie; but, gin I
confess it, ye'll no gar me sit on the muckle black stool i'
repentance afore a' the fowk, an' me carries up the buiks i' the
Marrow kirk."
"Alexander Mowdiewort, ye spak ill o' the minister an' session, o'
the kirk an' the wholesome order o' this parish. We have a warrant
for your apprehension and appearance which we might, unless moved
by penitence and dutiful submission, put in force. Then are ye
aware whaur that wad land you--i' the jail in Kirkcudbright toon,
my man Saunders."
But still it was the dread disgrace of the stool of repentance
that bulked most largely in the culprit's imagination.
"Na, na," interjected Mistress Mowdiewort, "nae siccan things for
ony bairns o' mine. Nae son o' mine sall ever set his hurdies on
the like o't."
"Be silent, woman!" said the minister severely; "them that will to
black stool maun to black stool. Rebukit an' chastised is the law
an' order, and rebukit and chastised shall your son be as weel as
ithers."
"'Deed, yer nae sae fond o' rebukin' the great an' the rich.
There's that young speldron frae the castle; its weel kenned what
he is, an' hoo muckle he's gotten the weight o'."
"He is not of our communion, and not subject to our discipline,"
began the minister.
"Weel," said Elspeth, "weel, let him alane. He's a Pape, an' gaun
to purgatory at ony gate. But then there's bletherin' Johnnie o'
the Dinnance Mains--he's as fu' as Solway tide ilka Wednesday, an'
no only speaks agin minister an' session, as maybe my Saunders did
(an' maybe no), but abuses Providence, an the bellman, an' even
blasphemes agin the fast day--yet I never heard that ye had him
cockit up on the black henbauks i' the kirk. But then he's a braw
man an' keeps a gig!"
"The law o' the kirk is no respecter of persons," said Mess John.
"No, unless they are heritors," said Cochrane of the Holm, who had
a pew with the name of his holding painted on it.
"Or members o' session," said sleeky Carment of the Kirkland, who
had twice escaped the stool of repentance on the ground that, as
he urged upon the body, "gleds [hawks] shouldna pike gleds een
oot."
"Or parish dominies," said the session clerk, to give solidarity
to his own position.
"Weel, I ken juist this if nae mair: my son disna sit on ony o'
yer stools o' repentance," said Eppie Mowdiewort, demonstrating
the truth of her position with her hand clenched at the dominie,
who, like all clerks of ecclesiastical assemblies, was exceedingly
industrious in taking notes to very small purpose. "Mair nor that,
I'm maybe an unlearned woman, but I've been through the Testaments
mair nor yince--the New Testament mair nor twice--an' I never saw
naethin' aboot stools o' repentance in the hoose o' God. But my
son Saunders was readin' to me the ither nicht in a fule history
buik, an' there it said that amang the Papists they used to hae
fowk that didna do as they did an' believe as they believed. Sae
wi' a lang white serk on, an' a can'le i' their hands, they set
them up for the rabble fowk to clod at them, an' whiles they tied
them to a bit stick an' set lunt [fire] to them--an that's the
origin o' yer stool o' repentance. What say ye to that?"
Mrs. Mowdiewort's lecture on church history was not at all
appreciated by the session. The minister rose.
"We will close this sederunt," he said; "we can mak' nocht o'
these two. Alexander Mowdiewort, thou art removed from thy office
of grave-digger in the parish kirkyard, and both thysel' and thy
mother are put under suspension for contumacy!"
"Haith!" said Elspeth Mowdiewort, pushing back her hair; "did ye
ever hear the mak' o' the craitur. I haena been within his kirk
door for twenty year. It's a guid job that a body can aye gang
doon to godly Maister Welsh, though he's an awfu' body to deave
[deafen] ye wi' the Shorter Quastions."
"An it's a guid thing," added Saunders, "that there's a new
cemetery a-makkin'. There's no room for anither dizzen in yer auld
kailyaird onyway--an' that I'm tellin' ye. An' I'm promised the
new job too. Ye can howk yer ain graves yersel's."
"Fash na yer heid, Saunders, aboot them," said the old betheral at
the door; "it's me that's to be grave-digger, but ye shall howk
them a' the same in the mornin', an' get the siller, for I'm far
ower frail--ye can hae them a' by afore nine o'clock, an' the
minister disna pu' up his bedroom blind till ten!"
Thus it was that Saunders Mowdiewort ended his connection with an
Erastian establishment, and became a true and complete member of
the Marrow kirk. His mother also attended with exemplary
diligence, but she was much troubled with a toothache on the days
of catechising, and never quite conquered her unruly member to the
last. But this did not trouble herself much--only her neighbours.