YEAR 1778
THIS year was as the shadow of the bygane: there was less actual
suffering, but what we came through cast a gloom among us, and we did not
get up our spirits till the spring was far advanced; the corn was in the
ear, and the sun far towards midsummer height, before there was any
regular show of gladness in the parish.
It was clear to me that the wars were not to be soon over; for I noticed,
in the course of this year, that there was a greater christening of lad
bairns than had ever been in any year during my incumbency; and grave and
wise persons, observant of the signs of the times, said, that it had been
long held as a sure prognostication of war, when the births of male
children outnumbered that of females.
Our chief misfortune in this year was a revival of that wicked mother of
many mischiefs, the smuggling trade, which concerned me greatly; but it
was not allowed to it to make any thing like a permanent stay among us,
though in some of the neighbouring parishes, its ravages, both in morals
and property, were very distressing, and many a mailing was sold to pay
for the triumphs of the cutters and gaugers; for the government was by
this time grown more eager, and the war caused the king’s ships to be out
and about, which increased the trouble of the smugglers, whose wits in
their turn were thereby much sharpened.
After Mrs. Malcolm, by the settlement of Captain Macadam, had given up
her dealing, two maiden women, that were sisters, Betty and Janet Pawkie,
came in among us from Ayr, where they had friends in league with some of
the laigh land folk, that carried on the contraband with the Isle of Man,
which was the very eye of the smuggling. They took up the tea-selling,
which Mrs. Malcolm had dropped, and did business on a larger scale,
having a general huxtry, with parliament-cakes, and candles, and
pincushions, as well as other groceries, in their window. Whether they
had any contraband dealings, or were only back-bitten, I cannot take it
upon me to say; but it was jealoused in the parish that the meal in the
sacks, that came to their door at night, and was sent to the Glasgow
market in the morning, was not made of corn. They were, however, decent
women, both sedate and orderly; the eldest, Betty Pawkie, was of a manly
stature, and had a long beard, which made her have a coarse look; but she
was, nevertheless, a worthy, well-doing creature, and at her death she
left ten pounds to the poor of the parish, as may be seen in the
mortification board that the session put up in the kirk as a
testification and an example.
Shortly after the revival of the smuggling, an exciseman was put among
us, and the first was Robin Bicker, a very civil lad that had been a
flunkey with Sir Hugh Montgomerie, when he was a residenter in Edinburgh,
before the old Sir Hugh’s death. He was a queer fellow, and had a coothy
way of getting in about folk, the which was very serviceable to him in
his vocation; nor was he overly gleg: but when a job was ill done, and he
was obliged to notice it, he would often break out on the smugglers for
being so stupid, so that for an exciseman he was wonderful well liked,
and did not object to a waught of brandy at a time; when the auld wives
ca’d it well-water. It happened, however, that some unneighbourly person
sent him notice of a clecking of tea chests, or brandy kegs, at which
both Jenny and Betty Pawkie were the howdies. Robin could not but
therefore enter their house; however, before going in, he just cried at
the door to somebody on the road, so as to let the twa industrious
lassies hear he was at hand. They were not slack in closing the
trance-door, and putting stoups and stools behind it, so as to cause
trouble, and give time before any body could get in. They then emptied
their chaff-bed, and filled the tikeing with tea, and Betty went in on
the top, covering herself with the blanket, and graining like a woman in
labour. It was thought that Robin Bicker himself would not have been
overly particular in searching the house, considering there was a woman
seemingly in the death-thraws; but a sorner, an incomer from the east
country, and that hung about the change-house as a divor hostler, that
would rather gang a day’s journey in the dark than turn a spade in
day-light, came to him as he stood at the door, and went in with him to
see the sport. Robin, for some reason, could not bid him go away, and
both Betty and Janet were sure he was in the plot against them; indeed,
it was always thought he was an informer, and no doubt he was something
not canny, for he had a down look.
It was some time before the doorway was cleared of the stoups and stools,
and Jenny was in great concern, and flustered, as she said, for her poor
sister, who was taken with a heart-colic. “I’m sorry for her,” said
Robin, “but I’ll be as quiet as possible;” and so he searched all the
house, but found nothing; at the which his companion, the divor east
country hostler, swore an oath that could not be misunderstood; so,
without more ado, but as all thought against the grain, Robin went up to
sympathize with Betty in the bed, whose groans were loud and vehement.
“Let me feel your pulse,” said Robin, and he looted down as she put forth
her arm from aneath the clothes, and laying his hand on the bed, cried,
“Hey! what’s this? this is a costly filling.” Upon which Betty jumpet up
quite recovered, and Jenny fell to the wailing and railing, while the
hostler from the east country took the bed of tea on his back, to carry
it to the change-house, till a cart was gotten to take it into the
custom-house at Irville.
Betty Pawkie being thus suddenly cured, and grudging the loss of
property, took a knife in her hand, and as the divor was crossing the
burn at the stepping-stones that lead to the back of the change-house,
she ran after him and ripped up the tikeing, and sent all the tea
floating away on the burn, which was thought a brave action of Betty, and
the story not a little helped to lighten our melancholy meditations.
Robin Bicker was soon after this affair removed to another district, and
we got in his place one Mungo Argyle, who was as proud as a provost,
being come of Highland parentage. Black was the hour he came among my
people; for he was needy and greedy, and rode on the top of his
commission. Of all the manifold ills in the train of smuggling, surely
the excisemen are the worst, and the setting of this rabiator over us was
a severe judgment for our sins. But he suffered for’t, and peace be with
him in the grave, where the wicked cease from troubling!
Willie Malcolm, the youngest son of his mother, had by this time learned
all that Mr. Lorimore, the schoolmaster, could teach; and as it was
evidenced to every body, by his mild manners and saintliness of
demeanour, that he was a chosen vessel, his mother longed to fulfil his
own wish, which was doubtless the natural working of the act of grace
that had been shed upon him; but she had not the wherewithal to send him
to the college of Glasgow, where he was desirous to study, and her just
pride would not allow her to cess his brother-in-law, the Captain
Macadam, whom, I should now mention, was raised in the end of this year,
as we read in the newspapers, to be a major. I thought her in this
somewhat unreasonable, for she would not be persuaded to let me write to
the captain; but when I reflected on the good that Willie Malcolm might
in time do as a preacher, I said nothing more to her, but indited a
letter to the Lord Eaglesham, setting forth the lad’s parts, telling who
he was and all about his mother’s scruples; and, by the retour of the
post from London his lordship sent me an order on his steward, to pay me
twenty pounds towards equipping my protegée, as he called Willie, with a
promise to pay for his education, which was such a great thing for his
lordship to do off-hand on my recommendation, that it won much affection
throughout the country side; and folks began to wonder, rehearsing the
great things, as was said, that I had gotten my lord at different times,
and on divers occasions, to do, which had a vast of influence among my
brethren of the presbytery, and they grew into a state of greater
cordiality with me, looking on me as a man having authority; but I was
none thereat lifted up, for not being gifted with the power of a
kirk-filling eloquence, I was but little sought for at sacraments, and
fasts, and solemn days, which was doubtless well ordained; for I had no
motive to seek fame in foreign pulpits, but was left to walk in the paths
of simplicity within my own parish. To eschew evil myself, and to teach
others to do the same, I thought the main duties of the pastoral office,
and with a sincere heart endeavoured what in me lay to perform them with
meekness, sobriety, and a spirit wakeful to the inroads of sin and Satan.
But oh, the sordiness of human nature!—The kindness of the Lord
Eaglesham’s own disposition was ascribed to my influence, and many a dry
answer I was obliged to give to applicants that would have me trouble his
lordship, as if I had a claim upon him. In the ensuing year, the notion
of my cordiality with him came to a great head, and brought about an
event, that could not have been forethought by me as a thing within the
compass of possibility to bring to pass.