The Scotch Sabbath. -- The Saviour in the Cornfield. -- A good
Advertisement. -- Difference between the Inside and the Outside
of a Tramcar. -- How useful it is to be able to speak Scotch in
Scotland. -- Sermon and Lesson on Balistics at Edinburgh. -- If
you do Evil on the Sabbath, do it well.
The Lord's day is not called Sunday in Scotland, but the Sabbath, which
is more biblical.
The Scotch Sabbath beats the English Sunday into fits.
I thought, in my innocence, that the English Sunday was not to be
matched.
Delusion on my part.
How hope to give a description of the Scotch Sabbath? It is an
undertaking that might frighten a far more clever pen than mine.
Happily, in this also, the Scotch anecdote comes to my rescue.
Here is one, to begin with, which will show once more how difficult it
is to trip up a Scotchman. Nothing is sacred for him when he wants to
get himself out of a difficulty.
A Free Kirk minister met a member of his congregation, and thus
addressed her:
"Mary, I am glad to have met you; for I have something on my mind that
I have been anxious to speak to you of for a long while. I have
heard--but it surely cannot be--I have heard that you sometimes go for a
walk on the blessed Sabbath."
"Ay, meenister, it is quite true; but I read in the Bible that Our Lord
walked through the cornfields on the Sabbath day."
"I do not deny it," replied the good man, a little disconcerted; "but,"
he added, recovering his self-possession, "let me tell you that if the
Saviour did take a walk on the Sabbath, I dinna think the more of Him
for 't."
* * * * *
I one day read, in an Edinburgh paper, the following letter, addressed
to the editor of the paper by a Scotch minister. This minister had been
accused by his antagonist of having been seen taking a walk through one
of the parks on the Sabbath.
What an advertisement that letter was!
This is how it ran:
"Certain malevolent and unscrupulous persons have dared to set
afloat the rumour that I was seen in the Queen's Park on the
Sabbath. I utterly deny the accusation. I never take walks on the
Sabbath. Allow me also to add that, though by going through the park
I should considerably shorten the walk from my house to the church,
I avoid doing so. Let my enemies watch me, if they feel inclined,
and they will see that I go round."
It seems impossible to beat that; but what do you think of the
following, which at all events runs it close?
The little scene happened at Edinburgh one Sunday.
My host and I were going to hear a preacher at some distance from the
centre of the town.
In Princes Street we hailed an omnibus.
I, in my simplicity, prepared to mount on the top, when I felt someone
pulling at my coat-tails. It was my companion, who was going inside, and
who made a sign to me to follow.
"What! you ride inside on such a lovely day!" I exclaimed, taking my
seat at his side.
"On week-days it is all very well to go outside, but on the Sabbath the
interior is more respectable."
The following little anecdote, which was told me in the north of
Scotland, proves that the Highlander knows how to reconcile his scruples
with his interests, even on the Holy Sabbath day:
My friend, walking one day in the neighbourhood of Braemar, all at once
perceived that he had lost his way.
Meeting a peasant, he asked him to put him on the right track.
"Eh!" said the rustic, "you are breaking the Sawbath, and you are served
richt. The Lord is punishin' ye...."
This little sermon bid fair to last some time. My friend slipped a
shilling into the peasant's hand.
The effect was magical.
"Straight on till ye come to the crossroads, then the second turnin' to
the richt, and there ye are."
There is nothing like knowing how to speak Scotch when you go to
Scotland.
* * * * *
Yet, the real old Scotch Sabbath is almost passing away.
Some lament it, others rejoice at it; but all the Scotch admit that
their forefathers would be horrified at the things that pass in these
days.
And indeed things must have greatly changed.
Now there are those who take walks on the Sabbath. What do I say, walks?
There are those who ride velocipedes--Heaven forgive them! There are to
be seen--no offence to my worthy host--there are to be seen poor
harmless folk degenerate enough to go and sniff the fresh air on the top
of an omnibus. They are not the _unco' guid_, but still they are Scotch.
Where is the time when Scotch cooks refused to use a roasting-jack on
Sunday because it worked and made a noise?
Where is the time when a Scotchman almost found fault with his hens for
laying eggs on the Sabbath?
Where are the days when Donald considered it shocking to introduce music
into divine service?
The following little scene, of which I was a witness, proved to me that
in the Scotchman the practical spirit is bound to assert itself. No
matter whether it is Sunday: if he does evil on the Sabbath, he must do
it well.
It was one Sunday afternoon in Edinburgh.
Several children were amusing themselves (_proh pudor!_), in a corner of
Calton Hill Park, by piling up a heap of stones.
When the heap was a few inches high, the children retreated two or three
yards and, each armed with a stone, began to try and knock down their
little construction.
Up came a gentleman, indignant.
"Little scamps!" he began, "are you not ashamed of yourselves? Don't you
know you are breaking the Sabbath?"
This impressive exhortation produced small effect upon the little arabs,
who went on aiming at the heap, but without success, however.
By the movements of the man every time a stone missed its aim, I could
see that if the worthy Scot was indignant at the scandalous conduct of
the boys, their awkwardness inspired him with the most profound
contempt.
Stone followed stone, but the heap remained intact.
The Scotchman could bear it no longer.
"Duffers!" he cried.
And picking up a stone, he aimed it at the heap, scattering it in all
directions; then, with a last pitying glance at the young admiring
troop, quietly resumed his walk.
_Scotch moral._--Don't play at knocking down stones on the blessed
Sabbath, it is a sin; however, if you do not fear to commit this sin,
knock down the stones. Don't miss your aim, it is a crime.
* * * * *
This practical spirit shows itself on Sundays in many of the large towns
in Great Britain.
In London, for instance, certain tramway companies double the tram-fares
on Sundays. The Pharisees at the head of these companies say to
themselves:
"We commit a sin in working on Sundays; let the sin be at least a
remunerative one."
In France, our public gardens, such as the _Jardin d'Acclimation_ and
many others, reduce the price of admission on Sundays, in order to allow
the working-people and their children to take a day of cheap and
healthful recreation.
For a penny, I can any day of the week get taken by tram close to the
magnificent Kew Gardens. The poor workman, who would like to go there on
Sunday, is obliged to pay twopence to the company--one penny for his
place, and another to appease the consciences of the shareholders.