YEAR 1767
ALL things in our parish were now beginning to shoot up into a great
prosperity. The spirit of farming began to get the upper hand of the
spirit of smuggling, and the coal-heughs that had been opened in the
Douray, now brought a pour of money among us. In the manse, the thrift
and frugality of the second Mrs. Balwhidder throve exceedingly, so that
we could save the whole stipend for the bank.
The king’s highway, as I have related in the foregoing, ran through the
Vennel, which was a narrow and a crooked street, with many big stones
here and there, and every now and then, both in the spring and the fall,
a gathering of middens for the fields; insomuch that the coal-carts from
the Douray moor were often reested in the middle of the causey, and on
more than one occasion some of them laired altogether in the middens, and
others of them broke down. Great complaint was made by the carters anent
these difficulties, and there was, for many a day, a talk and sound of an
alteration and amendment; but nothing was fulfilled in the matter till
the month of March in this year, when the Lord Eaglesham was coming from
London to see the new lands that he had bought in our parish. His
lordship was a man of a genteel spirit, and very fond of his horses,
which were the most beautiful creatures of their kind that had been seen
in all the country side. Coming, as I was noting, to see his new lands,
he was obliged to pass through the clachan one day, when all the middens
were gathered out, reeking and sappy, in the middle of the causey. Just
as his lordship was driving in with his prancing steeds, like a Jehu, at
one end of the vennel, a long string of loaded coal-carts came in at the
other, and there was hardly room for my lord to pass them. What was to
be done? His lordship could not turn back, and the coal-carts were in no
less perplexity. Every body was out of doors to see and to help; when,
in trying to get his lordship’s carriage over the top of a midden, the
horses gave a sudden loup, and couped the coach, and threw my lord, head
foremost, into the very scent-bottle of the whole commodity, which made
him go perfect mad, and he swore like a trooper that he would get an act
of parliament to put down the nuisance—the which now ripened in the
course of this year into the undertaking of the trust-road.
His lordship, being in a woeful plight, left the carriage and came to the
manse, till his servant went to the castle for a change for him; but he
could not wait nor abide himself: so he got the lend of my best suit of
clothes, and was wonderful jocose both with Mrs. Balwhidder and me, for
he was a portly man, and I but a thin body, and it was really a droll
curiosity to see his lordship clad in my garments.
Out of this accident grew a sort of a neighbourliness between that Lord
Eaglesham and me; so that when Andrew Lanshaw, the brother that was of
the first Mrs. Balwhidder, came to think of going to India, I wrote to my
lord for his behoof, and his lordship got him sent out as a cadet, and
was extraordinary discreet to Andrew when he went up to London to take
his passage, speaking to him of me as if I had been a very saint, which
the Searcher of Hearts knows I am far from thinking myself.
But to return to the making of the trust-road, which, as I have said,
turned the town inside out. It was agreed among the heritors, that it
should run along the back side of the south houses; and that there should
be steadings fued off on each side, according to a plan that was laid
down; and this being gone into, the town gradually, in the course of
years, grew up into that orderlyness which makes it now a pattern to the
country side—all which was mainly owing to the accident that befell the
Lord Eaglesham, which is a clear proof how improvements come about, as it
were, by the immediate instigation of Providence, which should make the
heart of man humble, and change his eyes of pride and haughtiness into a
lowly demeanour.
But although this making of the trust-road was surely a great thing for
the parish, and of an advantage to my people, we met, in this year, with
a loss not to be compensated—that was the death of Nanse Banks, the
schoolmistress. She had been long in a weak and frail state; but being a
methodical creature, still kept on the school, laying the foundation for
many a worthy wife and mother. However, about the decline of the year
her complaints increased, and she sent for me to consult about her giving
up the school; and I went to see her on Saturday afternoon, when the bit
lassies, her scholars, had put the house in order, and gone home till the
Monday.
She was sitting in the window-nook, reading THE WORD to herself, when I
entered; but she closed the book, and put her spectacles in for a mark
when she saw me; and, as it was expected I would come, her easy-chair,
with a clean cover, had been set out for me by the scholars, by which I
discerned that there was something more than common to happen, and so it
appeared when I had taken my seat.
“Sir,” said she, “I hae sent for you on a thing troubles me sairly. I
have warsled with poortith in this shed, which it has pleased the Lord to
allow me to possess; but my strength is worn out, and I fear I maun yield
in the strife;” and she wiped her eye with her apron. I told her,
however, to be of good cheer; and then she said, “That she could no
longer thole the din of the school, and that she was weary, and ready to
lay herself down to die whenever the Lord was pleased to permit.” “But,”
continued she, “what can I do without the school; and, alas! I can
neither work nor want; and I am wae to go on the session, for I am come
of a decent family.” I comforted her, and told her, that I thought she
had done so much good in the parish, that the session was deep in her
debt, and that what they might give her was but a just payment for her
service. “I would rather, however, sir,” said she, “try first what some
of my auld scholars will do, and it was for that I wanted to speak with
you. If some of them would but just, from time to time, look in upon me,
that I may not die alane; and the little pick and drap that I require
would not be hard upon them—I am more sure that in this way their
gratitude would be no discredit, than I am of having any claim on the
session.”
As I had always a great respect for an honest pride, I assured her that I
would do what she wanted; and accordingly, the very morning after, being
Sabbath, I preached a sermon on the helplessness of them that have no
help of man, meaning aged single women, living in garret-rooms, whose
forlorn state, in the gloaming of life, I made manifest to the hearts and
understandings of the congregation, in such a manner that many shed
tears, and went away sorrowful.
Having thus roused the feelings of my people, I went round the houses on
the Monday morning, and mentioned what I had to say more particularly
about poor old Nanse Banks, the schoolmistress, and truly I was rejoiced
at the condition of the hearts of my people. There was a universal
sympathy among them; and it was soon ordered that, what with one and
another, her decay should be provided for. But it was not ordained that
she should be long heavy on their good-will. On the Monday the school
was given up, and there was nothing but wailing among the bit lassies,
the scholars, for getting the vacance, as the poor things said, because
the mistress was going to lie down to dee. And, indeed, so it came to
pass; for she took to her bed the same afternoon, and, in the course of
the week, dwindled away, and slipped out of this howling wilderness into
the kingdom of heaven, on the Sabbath following, as quietly as a blessed
saint could do. And here I should mention, that the Lady Macadam, when I
told her of Nanse Banks’s case, enquired if she was a snuffer, and, being
answered by me that she was, her ladyship sent her a pretty French enamel
box full of macabaw, a fine snuff that she had in a bottle; and, among
the macabaw, was found a guinea, at the bottom of the box, after Nanse
Banks had departed this life, which was a kind thing of Lady Macadam to
do.
About the close of this year there was a great sough of old prophecies,
foretelling mutations and adversities, chiefly on account of the canal
that was spoken of to join the rivers of the Clyde and the Forth, it
being thought an impossible thing to be done; and the Adam and Eve
pear-tree, in our garden, budded out in an awful manner, and had divers
flourishes on it at Yule, which was thought an ominous thing, especially
as the second Mrs. Balwhidder was at the downlying with my eldest son
Gilbert, that is, the merchant in Glasgow; but nothing came o’t, and the
howdie said she had an easy time when the child came into the world,
which was on the very last day of the year, to the great satisfaction of
me, and of my people, who were wonderful lifted up because their minister
had a man-child born unto him.