One of my city friends who is interested in the study of phrenology once
told me that my bump of adaptability is very strongly developed. He told
me more, of which I was sceptical; but the natural ease with which I
have taken to and conformed with my present surroundings is proof to me
that his interpretation of this particular bump was fairly correct.
Words fail me to express adequately the pleasure I have derived from my
reintroduction to Nature's home and mine. Everything seems fresh from
the hand of the Creator; there is no veneer, no make-believe, and over
all there is solace and repose. Happy hours in the domestic atmosphere
of the old house, mellowed and sweetened by the presence of Betty and
Nathan; the quiet interval spent in the barber's back sanctum, with its
window facing the gray-blue Lowthers; the afternoon visit to John
Sterling's shop, with its homely smell of roset and bend-leather, and
our usual discussion on the Dandie breed and the beauties of Scott's
_Marmion_, Aird's _Devil's Dream_, and Hogg's _Kilmeny_; a stroll with
Bang and Jip round the Gillfoot or down the 'Coo Road;' and solitary
meditation on the doctor's 'mound,' surrounded by a medley of
vegetation, planted indiscriminately and flourishing under what the dear
old man calls his natural style of gardening--such is my daily
programme. A homely life this amidst homely folks: the barber in his
reminiscent moods; John Sterling with his love of dogs, his
charitableness and honesty, and his enthusiasm for what I may call the
true poetry of life; Dr Grierson, walking alone, hugging to his heart a
sweet secret memory, dreein' his weird, doing good in his own quiet way,
and keeping from his left hand what his right hand is doing; Nathan,
silent, serious, and preoccupied, deferring ever to Betty, and proud and
content to shelter in her shadow; and Betty, my dear, kind, thoughtful
Betty, who always carves with the blunt knife and the big heart, whose
Bible is her bolster, and whose solicitude extends to all God's
creatures great and small--homely folks of a surety; yes, commonplace,
if you will, but dear to my heart. It may be--in fact, I may take it for
granted--that characters like these would make no appeal to my city
acquaintances; to them association with such would be boredom, and my
mode of living the essence of dreariness; and yet to me, and I say it
with all reverence, it comes as near as anything on earth can come to
that peace which passeth all understanding.
Mention of Betty and her Bible in the same breath reminds me that lately
she has talked to me almost solely on secular matters. This is not as it
used to be. When first I came to her, by a process of manoeuvring and
meandering peculiar to herself she always managed to steer her
conversation into religious channels, and the direct way she had of
pointing the moral was always original and characteristic. It is not
because I have discouraged her or shown any indifference that she has
lapsed in this matter; and it would appear that, as our intimacy has
ripened, and as our topics of conversation have become more personal,
she has meantime allowed the mundane to prevail, with a view to taking
up the more serious and essential at a more convenient season.
I wasn't surprised, therefore, when, to-day, after Dr Grierson had
visited Nathan in the back-room, she asked him in an off-hand,
matter-of-fact way what he thought of yesterday's sermon.
The doctor was fumbling in his pocket for his old clay, and in an
absent, abstracted tone of voice he informed her that, as he hadn't
been to church, he wasn't in a position to pass any judgment.
'Ay, ye werena at the kirk? I micht ha'e kenned that,' she said. 'Imphm!
I'm no' a deid auld woman, doctor,' she continued; 'but I mind o' your
faither efter he left Dumfries an' cam' to bide wi' ye here, an' he was
a regular attender at the kirk. It's a great pity when folks break off
kin'. Ay, that it is! Imphm! An', doctor, you'll excuse me, it's mebbe
nae business o' mine; but I canna help tellin' ye that I often think
aboot ye, an' that ye lie heavy on my mind. We've seen a great deal o'
ye lately, mair than we ever saw before, and I've proved to mysel' what
ithers said o' ye, an' what I had aye ta'en for granted. It's a' in your
favour, an' what ye've dune for the puir God will no' forget when ye're
bein' weighed in the balance.'
'Thank you, Betty,' the doctor said, as he struck a light.
'Ay, but haud on; I havena dune wi' ye. I havena come to the point. As
I've said, ye've come a great deal in an' oot among us lately, an' in a
temporal sense ye've been a great comfort and help to Maister Weelum
here. Oh that ye had been able to influence him spiritually, for since
he cam' he's never darkened a kirk door. I've held my tongue, as sae
far there's been an excuse for him; but noo that he's gettin' better an'
able to gang aboot, I juist think that oot o' respect for you, if ye had
been kirk-minded, he could easily ha'e been guided Zionward.'
I had the feeling that Betty was rushing in where angels fear to tread;
and, not knowing how the doctor was likely to take this, I became very
uncomfortable. He puffed spasmodically at his pipe and moved uneasily in
his chair. 'It is very kind of you, Betty, to think of me,' he
said--'very kind indeed; and you must not count it none of your business
to bring such matters before me. In a way we are all each other's
keepers, and it would be churlish of me to resent such interest as you
show. For my own part, I live my life according to my light, such as it
is. It may be a poor, flickering light to other eyes, but it is
sufficient to show me the road. As for William here, he has long ago
reached man's estate, and he can judge of these matters for himself. If
I mistake not, he has a standard of his own, and I feel sure my
influence, even though I were kirk-minded, as you call it, would not
direct his steps in the direction you indicate.'
'Oh doctor, dinna say that! We can a' be made humble instruments.
Example is a great thing, though ye dinna follow your faither's, an' I
ken what a power for guid ye wad be if the grace o' God was in ye. Oh
doctor, I've been he'rt sorry for ye mony a time, for I ken the grief
ye've carried, an' I've wondered hoo ye could thole it sae lang a' by
yoursel', an' that ye never accepted the consolation which He alone can
gi'e ye. But ye've spurned it, doctor. I don't think that ye're a joined
member o' the kirk or that ye gang to the Communion--you that's sic a
man i' the toon--everybody's body as you are, an' born wi' a sma'er dose
o' original sin than ony yin I ken o'. I juist canna understan' it.'
The doctor laughed good-humouredly. 'I've my work to attend to, you
know, Betty. My patients cannot be neglected for the sake of'----
'If your work permitted, wad ye gang to the kirk, doctor?'
'I--I question if I would.'
'That's an honest admission, an' it wadna come frae Dr Grierson if it
wasna. An' what's your objection, doctor?'
'Oh, well, Betty, your question opens up a big, debatable subject on
which I have great reluctance to enter. I have neither the time nor the
inclination, Betty; but this much I will say, we are all heirs to a
heritage of different distresses in this life, and as we are not all
constituted alike we require different treatment. Now there is one great
panacea, one great balm, for all our wounds. Some find that panacea in
their church, though many go to church who are not aware they require a
panacea. Others, of whom I am one, find a balm for their afflictions in
communing with the nature of God's creation we see around us. With such
it isn't necessary to go to church in order to feel God's presence or to
experience His beneficent power. If it were, we could only commune with
Him once a week, when the churches are open. As it is, I can praise Him
at all times, and glorify His name under the canopy of His heavens, and
among the trees and flowers and fields and woods, which evidence His
fostering care and proclaim His loving-kindness.'
'Then, doctor, ye do believe in God?'
A pained look crept into the doctor's eyes. 'Betty,' he said, 'you
surely have never doubted that?'
'Weel, wi' you no' gaun to the kirk, an''----
'Ah, Betty, it is possible for a man to go to church and remain in
doubt; but no one can stand, as I often do, under the starry firmament,
alone in the midst of slumbering nature, or facing the glowing east
when the shafts of the sun's morning beams are piercing the shadowy sky,
and not feel within himself that God reigneth, and the earth in
consequence rejoices.'
'Grand! Man, doctor, I'm glad to hear ye say that! I'm--I'm rale glad.'
There was a wee bit catch in Betty's voice, and a tear trickled down her
cheek, which she tried to wipe away unnoticed with a corner of her
apron. But the doctor saw, and his face twitched and softened.
'Then, doctor,' she continued, 'of course ye'll believe in the Bible?'
'Yes--with reservations.'
'Which means, doctor?'
'Well, Betty, it means that----Wait now, I want to make it easy for you
to understand; but unfortunately, by doing so, it makes it all the more
difficult for me to explain. Well, in a word, Betty, it means there are
parts of it I believe, and there are others I cannot.'
'Ay, pairts ye believe an' pairts ye canna believe. I notice ye say ye
_canna_ believe; ye don't say ye _will not_ believe. There's a
difference, doctor, ye ken. Why do ye say ye canna?'
'Because I have thought out things very carefully, very anxiously, and I
cannot entertain what does not appeal to my reason. I must discard what
I think is wrong.'
'But, doctor, man, ye maunna exercise your ain judgment. It's human;
consequently it's weak. What ye want is faith--the faith which can
remove mountains, the faith which sustains. Doctor, ye must put aside
your ain vain imaginin's an' thochts, an' become as a little child. Ay,
juist as a little child.'
'Yes, Betty, I thought you would say that. But you know I am not a
little child. I am a man, a responsible, thinking being, endowed by God
with a reasoning faculty which is calculated to guide me, and which,
Betty, I am expected to exercise. I cannot accept anything temporal
which is diametrically opposed or contrary to my judgment, nor would I
in the discharge of my professional duties follow a course or accept a
condition which my intellect and discernment told me was wrong. Why,
then, should I, in this the greatest of all questions, be expected to
lay reason aside and acquiesce in blind belief? No, Betty, I cannot do
that. If I did I shouldn't be true to myself.'
'But, doctor, wi' due respect, let me tell ye that cleverer men than you
have thocht these things oot for themselves an' have been satisfied wi'
the Word as it is delivered. Think o' the Reformers an' a' oor
professors, men who have studied theology a' their days, an''----
'And after all their study, what do they know, what have they gleaned
from all their books? I cannot be guided even by professors. They know
as much or as little of God's workings as the man who sweeps our village
street. Now, Betty, further than this I cannot and will not go with you.
As I have said, it is a big, debatable subject, and we might talk till
doomsday and not agree even then. Besides, it is a very dangerous thing
to tamper with any one's belief, especially if that belief affords a
solace in trials and constitutes an anchor in the storm. You have got
something within you which calms your fears, and gives you a peace which
nothing else can. Stick to it, Betty, and guard it against assault. And
I--well, Betty, I also have something within me which gives me peace,
such peace as would remain with me even if to-night I was called upon to
turn my face to the wall. Ah, Betty, each and every one has a faith. The
world has never been without one, and it will have one to the end. But
my conviction is we haven't often enough taken stock of our faith, and
the consequence is it has become detached from and out of sympathy with
our workaday lives. What a different world it would be if we were living
our religion instead of professing it! Some say this is impossible.
Well, it ought to be made possible, and the best way of going about it
would be to strip religion of all that binds it to impossible,
out-of-date dogmas, clear it of all that confounds and mystifies, and
nail as a motto to its mast-head these glorious words of the great
Master, "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." Betty, the time is
at hand when the Church will be forced to consider this text--ay, and to
act upon it; and when that day dawns it will herald the Millennium.'
A strange hush had fallen upon the room while the doctor was speaking,
and when he ceased it lingered with us like a benediction. Then Betty
walked quietly over to the window. 'Doctor,' she said, after a pause,
'd'ye think, at the last, everybody will be--eh--a' richt?'
'Well, Betty, the question often occurs to me. When the boundlessness of
God's love comes home to me I think it is possible. There is a verse,
the thirteenth of the twenty-first chapter of the Revelation, which'----
At that moment a knock came to the door, and Betty slipped out. In her
absence the doctor smoked in silence, and I watched the fire glowing in
the grate.
'Doctor,' she said, as she re-entered, 'that's the grocer's boy.
Somebody telt him ye were here, and he wants to ken if the bottle o'
port wine ye ordered is for Mrs Lawson o' Gillhead or auld Widow
Lawson?'
'Oh, it is for Widow Lawson,' he replied, and the semblance of a blush
spread over his face. He rose hurriedly, adjusted his plaid, and picked
up his hat.
I put my hand on his arm as he passed me. 'Doctor,' I said, 'your good
deeds are finding you out;' and he shook his head, and smiled as if he
didn't understand me, but he made no reply.
Betty came into my room later with her Bible in her hand. 'I've been
lookin' up that verse in the Revelation,' she said, 'an' it reads: "On
the east three gates, on the north three gates, on the south three
gates, and on the west three gates." Ay--imphm! I never saw the maitter
in that licht before.--Weel, I trust there may be a gate for me, Maister
Weelum; an'--an' somewey I'm sure noo there's yin for the doctor.'