YEAR 1773
IN this Ann. Dom. there was something like a plea getting to a head,
between the session and some of the heritors, about a new school-house;
the thatch having been torn from the rigging of the old one by a blast of
wind, on the first Monday of February, by which a great snow storm got
admission, and the school was rendered utterly uninhabitable. The
smaller sort of lairds were very willing to come into the plan with an
extra contribution, because they respected the master, and their bairns
were at the school; but the gentlemen, who had tutors in their own
houses, were not so manageable; and some of them even went so far as to
say, that the kirk, being only wanted on Sunday, would do very well for a
school all the rest of the week, which was a very profane way of
speaking; and I was resolved to set myself against any such thing, and to
labour, according to the power and efficacy of my station, to get a new
school built.
Many a meeting the session had on the subject; and the heritors debated,
and discussed, and revised their proceedings, and still no money for the
needful work was forthcoming. Whereupon it happened one morning, as I
was rummaging in my scrutoire, that I laid my hand on the Lord
Eaglesham’s letter anent Charles Malcolm; and it was put into my head at
that moment, that if I was to write to his lordship, who was the greatest
heritor, and owned now the major part of the parish, that by his help and
influence I might be an instrument to the building of a comfortable new
school. Accordingly, I sat down and wrote my lord all about the
accident, and the state of the school-house, and the divisions and
seditions among the heritors, and sent the letter to him at London by the
post the same day, without saying a word to any living soul on the
subject.
This in me was an advised thought; for, by the return of post, his
lordship with his own hand, in a most kind manner, authorized me to say
that he would build a new school at his own cost, and bade me go over and
consult about it with his steward at the castle, to whom he had written
by the same post the necessary instructions. Nothing could exceed the
gladness which the news gave to the whole parish, and none said more in
behalf of his lordship’s bounty and liberality than the heritors;
especially those gentry who grudged the undertaking, when it was thought
that it would have to come out of their own pock-nook.
In the course of the summer, just as the roof was closing in of the
school-house, my lord came to the castle with a great company, and was
not there a day till he sent for me to come over, on the next Sunday, to
dine with him; but I sent him word that I could not do so, for it would
be a transgression of the Sabbath, which made him send his own gentleman,
to make his apology for having taken so great a liberty with me, and to
beg me to come on the Monday, which I accordingly did, and nothing could
be better than the discretion with which I was used. There was a vast
company of English ladies and gentlemen, and his lordship, in a most
jocose manner, told them all how he had fallen on the midden, and how I
had clad him in my clothes, and there was a wonder of laughing and
diversion; but the most particular thing in the company, was a large,
round-faced man, with a wig, that was a dignitary in some great
Episcopalian church in London, who was extraordinary condescending
towards me, drinking wine with me at the table, and saying weighty
sentences, in a fine style of language, about the becoming grace of
simplicity and innocence of heart, in the clergy of all denominations of
Christians, which I was pleased to hear; for really he had a proud red
countenance, and I could not have thought he was so mortified to humility
within, had I not heard with what sincerity he delivered himself, and
seen how much reverence and attention was paid to him by all present,
particularly by my lord’s chaplain, who was a pious and pleasant young
divine, though educated at Oxford for the Episcopalian persuasion.
One day, soon after, as I was sitting in my closet conning a sermon for
the next Sunday, I was surprised by a visit from the dean, as the
dignitary was called. He had come, he said, to wait on me as rector of
the parish—for so, it seems, they call a pastor in England—and to say,
that, if it was agreeable, he would take a family dinner with us before
he left the castle. I could make no objection to this kindness; but said
I hoped my lord would come with him, and that we would do our best to
entertain them with all suitable hospitality. About an hour or so after
he had returned to the castle, one of the flunkeys brought a letter from
his lordship, to say, that not only he would come with the dean, but that
they would bring his other guests with them; and that, as they could only
drink London wine, the butler would send me a hamper in the morning,
assured, as he was pleased to say, that Mrs. Balwhidder would otherwise
provide good cheer.
This notification, however, was a great trouble to my wife, who was only
used to manufacture the produce of our glebe and yard to a profitable
purpose, and not used to the treatment of deans and lords, and other
persons of quality. However, she was determined to stretch a point on
this occasion; and we had, as all present declared, a charming dinner;
for fortunately one of the sows had a litter of pigs a few days before,
and in addition to a goose, that is but a boss bird, we had a roasted pig
with an apple in its mouth, which was just a curiosity to see; and my
lord called it a tithe pig; but I told him it was one of Mrs.
Balwhidder’s own clecking, which saying of mine made no little sport when
expounded to the dean.
But, och how! this was the last happy summer that we had for many a year
in the parish; and an omen of the dule that ensued, was in a sacrilegious
theft that a daft woman, Jenny Gaffaw, and her idiot daughter, did in the
kirk, by tearing off and stealing the green serge lining of my lord’s
pew, to make, as they said, a hap for their shoulders in the cold
weather—saving, however, the sin, we paid no attention at the time to the
mischief and tribulation that so unheard-of a trespass boded to us all.
It took place about Yule, when the weather was cold and frosty, and poor
Jenny was not very able to go about seeking her meat as usual. The deed,
however, was mainly done by her daughter, who, when brought before me,
said, “her poor mother’s back had mair need of claes than the
kirk-boards;” which was so true a thing, that I could not punish her, but
wrote anent it to my lord, who not only overlooked the offence, but sent
orders to the servants at the castle to be kind to the poor woman, and
the natural, her daughter.