THE SERGEANT AND HIS STARLING IN TROUBLE
The Sergeant and his wife, after having joined, as was their wont, in
private morning worship, had retired, to prepare for church, to their
bedroom in the back part of the cottage, and the door was shut. Not
until a loud knock was twice repeated on the kitchen-table, did the
Sergeant emerge in his shirt-sleeves to reply to the summons. His
surprise was great as he exclaimed, "Mr. Porteous! can it be you? Beg
pardon, sir, if I have kept you waiting; please be seated. No bad news,
I hope?"
Mr. Porteous, with a cold nod, and remaining where he stood, pointed
with his umbrella to the cage hanging outside the window, and asked the
Sergeant if that was his bird.
"It is, sir," replied the Sergeant, more puzzled than ever; "it is a
favourite starling of mine, and I hung it out this morning to enjoy the
air, because----"
"You need not proceed, Mr. Mercer," interrupted the minister; "it is
enough for me to know from yourself that you acknowledge that bird as
yours, and that _you_ hung it there."
"There is no doubt about that, sir; and what then? I really am puzzled
to know why you ask," said the Sergeant.
"I won't leave you long in doubt upon that point," continued the
minister, more stern and calm if possible than before, "nor on some
others which it involves."
Katie, at this crisis of the conversation, joined them in her black silk
gown. She entered the kitchen wuth a familiar smile and respectful
curtsey, and approached the minister, who, barely noticing her, resumed
his subject. Katie, somewhat bewildered, sat down in the large chair
beside the fire, watching the scene with curious perplexity.
"Are you aware, Mr. Mercer, of what has just happened?" inquired the
minister.
[Illustration: "ARE YOU AWARE, MR. MERCER, OF WHAT HAS JUST HAPPENED?"
Page 34]
"I do not take you up, sir," replied the Sergeant.
"Well, then, as I approached your house a crowd of children were
gathered round that cage, laughing and singing, with evident enjoyment,
and disturbing the neighbourhood by their riotous proceedings, thus
giving pain and grief to their parents, who have complained loudly to me
of the injury done to their most sacred feelings and associations by
_you_----please, please, don't interrupt me, Mr. Mercer; I have a duty
to perform, and shall finish presently."
The Sergeant bowed, folded his arms, and stood erect. Katie covered her
face with her hands, and exclaimed "Tuts, tuts, I'm real sorry--tuts."
"I went up to the cage," said Mr. Porteous, continuing his narrative,
"and narrowly inspected the bird. To my--what shall I call it?
astonishment? or shame and confusion?--I heard it utter such distinct
and articulate sounds as convinced me beyond all possibility of
doubt--yet you smile, sir, at my statement!--that----"
"Tuts, Adam, it's dreadfu'!" ejaculated Katie.
"That the bird," continued the minister, "_must_ have been either taught
by you, or with your approval: and having so instructed this creature,
you hang it out on this, the Sabbath morning, to whistle and to speak,
in order to insult--yes, sir, I use the word advisedly----"
"Never, sir!" said the Sergeant, with a calm and firm voice; "never,
sir, did I intentionally insult mortal man."
"I have nothing to do with your intentions, but with _facts_; and the
fact is, you did insult, sir, every feeling the most sacred, besides
injuring the religious habits of the young. _You_ did this, an
elder--_my_ elder, this day, to the great scandal of religion."
The Sergeant never moved, but stood before his minister as he would have
done before his general, calm, in the habit of respectful obedience to
those having authority. Poor Katie acted as a sort of _chorus_ at the
fireside.
"I never thocht it would come to this," she exclaimed, twisting her
fingers. "Oh! it's a pity! Sirs a day! Waes me! Sic a day as I have
lived to see! Speak, Adam!" at length she said, as if to relieve her
misery.
The silence of Adam so far helped the minister as to give him time to
breathe, and to think. He believed that he had made an impression on
the Sergeant, and that it was possible things might not be so bad as
they had looked. He hoped and wished to put them right, and desired to
avoid any serious quarrel with Mercer, whom he really respected as one
of his best elders, and as one who had never given him any trouble or
uneasiness, far less opposition. Adam, on the other hand, had been so
suddenly and unexpectedly attacked, that he hardly knew for a moment
what to say or do. Once or twice the old ardent temperament made him
feel something at his throat, such as used to be there when the order to
charge was given, or the command to form square and prepare to receive
cavalry. But the habits of "drill" and the power of passive endurance
came to his aid, along with a higher principle. He remained silent.
When the steam had roared off, and the ecclesiastical boiler of Mr.
Porteous was relieved from extreme pressure, he began to simmer, and to
be more quiet about the safety valve. Sitting down, and so giving
evidence of his being at once fatigued and mollified, he resumed his
discourse. "Sergeant"--he had hitherto addressed him as Mr.
Mercer--"Sergeant, you know my respect for you. I will say that a
better man, a more attentive hearer, a more decided and consistent
Churchman, and a more faithful elder, I have not in my parish----"
Adam bowed.
"Be also seated," said the minister.
"Thank you, sir," said Adam, "I would rather stand."
"I will after all give you credit for not intending to do this evil
which I complain of; I withdraw the appearance even of making any such
charge," said Mr. Porteous, as if asking a question.
After a brief silence, the Sergeant said, "You have given me great pain,
Mr. Porteous."
"How so, Adam?"--still more softened.
"It is great pain, sir, to have one's character doubted," said Adam.
"But have I not cause?" inquired the minister.
"You are of course the best judge, Mr. Porteous; but I frankly own to
you that the possibility of there being any harm in teaching a bird
never occurred to me."
"Oh, Adam!" exclaimed Katie, "I ken it was aye _your_ mind that, but it
wasna mine, although at last----"
"Let me alone, Katie, just now," quietly remarked Adam.
"What of the scandal? what of the scandal?" struck in the minister. "I
have no time to discuss details this morning; the bells have commenced."
"Well, then," said the Sergeant, "I was not aware of the disturbance in
the street which you have described; I never, certainly, could have
intended _that_. I was, at the time, in the bedroom, and never knew of
it. Believe me when I say't, that no man lives who would feel mair pain
than I would in being the occasion of ever leading anyone to break the
Lord's day by word or deed, more especially the young; and the young
aboot our doors are amang the warst. And as to my showing disrespect to
you, sir!--that never could be my intention."
"I believe you, Adam, I believe you; but----"
"Ay, weel ye may," chimed in Katie, now weeping as she saw some hope of
peace; "for he's awfu' taen up wi' guid, is Adam, though I say it."
"Oh, Katie; dinna, woman, fash yersel' wi' me," interpolated Adam.
"Though I say't that shouldna say't," continued Katie, "I'm sure he has
the greatest respec' for you, sir. He'll do onything to please you
that's possible, and to mak' amends for this great misfortun'."
"Of that I have no doubt--no doubt whatever, Mrs. Mercer," said Mr.
Porteous, kindly; "and I wished, in order that he should do so, to be
faithful to him, as he well knows I never will sacrifice my principles
to any man, be he who he may--never!
"There is no difficulty, I am happy to say," the minister resumed, after
a moment's pause, "in settling the whole of this most unpleasant
business. Indeed I promised to the neighbours, who were very naturally
offended, that it should never occur again; and as you acted, Adam, from
ignorance--and we must not blame an old soldier _too_ much," the
minister added with a patronising smile,--"all parties will be satisfied
by a very small sacrifice indeed--almost too small, considering the
scandal. Just let the bird be forthwith destroyed--that is all."
Adam started.
"In any case," the minister went on to say, without noticing the
Sergeant's look, "this should be done, because being an elder, and, as
such, a man with grave and solemn responsibilities, you will I am sure
see the propriety of at once acquiescing in my proposal, so as to avoid
the temptation of your being occupied by trifles and
frivolities--contemptible trifles, not to give a harsher name to all
that the bird's habits indicate. But when, in addition to this
consideration, these habits, Adam, have, as a fact, occasioned serious
scandal, no doubt can remain in any well-constituted mind as to the
_necessity_ of the course I have suggested."
"Destroy Charlie--I mean, the starling?" enquired the Sergeant, stroking
his chin, and looking down at the minister with a smile in which there
was more of sorrow and doubt than of any other emotion. "Do you mean,
Mr. Porteous, that I should kill him?"
"I don't mean that, necessarily, _you_ should do it, though _you_ ought
to do it as the offender. But I certainly mean that it should be
destroyed in any way, or by any person you please, as, if not the best
possible, yet the easiest amends which can be made for what has caused
such injury to morals and religion, and for what has annoyed myself more
than I can tell. Remember, also, that the credit of the eldership is
involved with my own."
"Are you serious, Mr. Porteous?" asked the Sergeant.
"Serious! Serious!--Your minister?--on Sabbath morning!--in a grave
matter of this kind!--to ask if I am serious! Mr. Mercer, you are
forgetting yourself."
"I ask pardon," replied the Sergeant, "if I have said anything
disrespectful; but I really did not take in how the killing of my pet
starling could mend matters, for which I say again, that I am really
vexed, and ax yer pardon. What has happened has been quite
unintentional on my part, I do assure you, sir."
"The death of the bird," said the minister, "I admit, in one serse, is a
mere trifle--a trifle to _you_: but it is not so to _me_, who am the
guardian of religion in the parish, and as such have pledged my word to
your neighbours that this, which I have called a great scandal, shall
never happen again. The least that you can do, therefore, I humbly
think, as a proof of your regret at having been even the innocent cause
of acknowledged evil; as a satisfaction to your neighbours, and a
security against a like evil occurring again; and as that which is due
to yourself as an office-bearer, to the parish, and, I must add, to _me_
as your pastor, and _my_ sense of what is right; and, finally, in order
to avoid a triumph to Dissent on the one hand, and to infidelity on the
other,--it is, I say, beyond all question your clear duty to remove the
_cause_ of the offence, by your destroying that paltry insignificant
bird. I must say, Mr. Mercer, that I feel not a little surprised that
your own sense of what is right does not compel you at once to acquiesce
in my very moderate demand--so moderate, indeed, that I am almost
ashamed to make it."
No response from the Sergeant.
"Many men, let me tell you," continued Mr. Porteous, "would have
summoned you to the Kirk Session, and rebuked you for your whole
conduct, actual and implied, in this case, and, if you had been
contumacious, would then have libelled and deposed you!" The minister
was warming as he proceeded. "I have no time," he added, rising, "to
say more on this painful matter. But I ask you now, after all I have
stated, and before we part, to promise me this favour--no, I won't put
it on the ground of a personal favour, but on _principle_--promise me to
do this--not to-day, of course, but on a week-day, say to-morrow--to
destroy the bird,--and I shall say no more about it. Excuse my warmth,
Adam, as I may be doing you the injustice of assuming that you do not
see the gravity of your own position or of mine." And Mr. Porteous
stretched out his hand to the Sergeant.
"I have no doubt, sir," said the Sergeant, calmly, "that you mean to do
what seems to you to be right, and what you believe to be your duty.
But----" and there was a pause, "but I will not deceive you, nor promise
to do what I feel I can never perform. _I_ must also do _my_ duty, and
I daurna do what seems to me to be wrang, cruel, and unnecessar'. I
canna' kill the bird. It is simply impossible! Do pardon me, sir.
Dinna think me disrespectful or prood. At this moment I am neither, but
verra vexed to have had ony disturbance wi' my minister. Yet----"
"Yet what, Mr. Mercer?"
"Weel, Mr. Porteous, I dinna wish to detain you; but as far as I can see
my duty, or understand my feelings----"
"Feelings! forsooth!" exclaimed Mr. Porteous.
"Or understand my feelings," continued Adam, "I canna--come what may,
let me oot with it--I _will not_ kill the bird!"
Mr. Porteous rose and said, in a cold, dry voice, "If such is your
deliverance, so be it. I have done my duty. On you, and you only, the
responsibility must now rest of what appears to me to be _contumacious_
conduct--an offence, if possible, worse than the original one. You sin
with light and knowledge--and it is, therefore, heinous by reason of
several aggravations. I must wish you good-morning. This matter cannot
rest here. But whatever consequences may follow, you, and you alone, I
repeat, are to blame--my conscience is free. You will hear more of this
most unfortunate business, Sergeant Mercer." And Mr. Porteous, with a
stiff bow, walked out of the house.
Adam made a movement towards the door, as if to speak once more to Mr.
Porteous, muttering to himself, "He canna be in earnest!--The thing's
impossible!--It canna be!" But the minister was gone.