LEAVING THE OLD HOME.
BEFORE going to my first harvesting, I had applied for a situation in
Glasgow, apparently exactly suited for my case; but I had little or no
hope of ever hearing of it further. An offer of £50 per annum was made
by the West Campbell Street Reformed Presbyterian Congregation, then
under the good and noble Dr. Bates, for a young man to act as district
visitor and tract distributor, especially amongst the absentees from the
Sabbath School; with the privilege of receiving one year's training at
the Free Church Normal Seminary, that he might qualify himself for
teaching, and thereby push forward to the Holy Ministry. The candidates,
along with their application and certificates, were to send an essay on
some subject, of their own composition, and in their own handwriting. I
sent in two long poems on the Covenanters, which must have exceedingly
amused them, as I had not learned to write even decent prose. But, much
to my surprise, immediately on the close of the harvesting experience, a
letter arrived, intimating that I, along with another young man, had
been put upon the short leet, and that both were requested to appear in
Glasgow on a given day and compete for the appointment.
Two days thereafter I started out from my quiet country home on the road
to Glasgow. Literally "on the road," for from Torthorwald to
Kilmarnock--about forty miles--had to be done on foot, and thence to
Glasgow by rail. Railways in those days were as yet few, and
coach-travelling was far beyond my purse. A small bundle contained my
Bible and all my personal belongings. Thus was I launched upon the ocean
of life. I thought on One who says, "I know thy poverty, but thou art
rich."
My dear father walked with me the first six miles of the way. His
counsels and tears and heavenly conversation on that parting journey are
fresh in my heart as if it had been but yesterday; and tears are on my
cheeks as freely now as then, whenever memory steals me away to the
scene. For the last half mile or so we walked on together in almost
unbroken silence,--my father, as was often his custom, carrying hat in
hand, while his long, flowing yellow hair (then yellow, but in later
years white as snow) streamed like a girl's down his shoulders. His lips
kept moving in silent prayers for me; and his tears fell fast when our
eyes met each other in looks of which all speech was vain! We halted on
reaching the appointed parting-place; he grasped my hand firmly for a
minute in silence, and then solemnly and affectionately said:
"God bless you, my son! Your father's God prosper you, and keep you from
all evil!"
Unable to say more, his lips kept moving in silent prayer; in tears we
embraced, and parted. I ran off as fast as I could; and, when about to
turn a corner in the road where he would lose sight of me, I looked back
and saw him still standing with head uncovered where I had left
him--gazing after me. Waving my hat in adieu, I was round the corner and
out of sight in an instant. But my heart was too full and sore to carry
me farther, so I darted into the side of the road and wept for a time.
Then, rising up cautiously, I climbed the dyke to see if he yet stood
where I had left him; and just at that moment I caught a glimpse of him
climbing the dyke and looking out for me! He did not see me, and after
he had gazed eagerly in my direction for a while he got down, set his
face towards home, and began to return--his head still uncovered, and
his heart, I felt sure, still rising in prayers for me. I watched
through blinding tears, till his form faded from my gaze; and then,
hastening on my way, vowed deeply and oft, by the help of God, to live
and act so as never to grieve or dishonor such a father and mother as He
had given me. The appearance of my father, when we parted,--his advice,
prayers, and tears--the road, the dyke, the climbing up on it and then
walking away, head uncovered--have often, often, all through life, risen
vividly before my mind, and do so now while I am writing, as if it had
been but an hour ago. In my earlier years particularly, when exposed to
many temptations, his parting form rose before me as that of a guardian
angel.