sound observe for some time, and that, if I held to that
doctrine in
the poopit, it wouldna be lang till I would work a change.--"I was
mindit," quoth he, "never to set my foot within the kirk door while
you were there; but to
testify, and no to
condemn without a trial,
I'll be there next Lord's day, and egg my neighbours to be likewise,
so ye'll no have to
preach just to the bare walls and the laird's
family."
I have now to speak of the coming of Mrs Malcolm.--She was the widow
of a Clyde shipmaster, that was lost at sea with his
vessel. She
was a genty body, calm and methodical. From morning to night she
sat at her wheel,
spinning the finest lint, which suited well with
her pale hands. She never changed her widow's weeds, and she was
aye as if she had just been ta'en out of a bandbox. The tear was
aften in her e'e when the bairns were at the school; but when they
came home, her spirit was lighted up with
gladness, although, poor
woman, she had many a time very little to give them. They were,
however, wonderful well-bred things, and took with
thankfulness
whatever she set before them; for they knew that their father, the
breadwinner, was away, and that she had to work sore for their bit
and drap. I dare say, the only
vexation that ever she had from any
of them, on their own
account, was when Charlie, the
eldest laddie,
had won fourpence at pitch-and-toss at the school, which he brought
home with a proud heart to his mother. I happened to be daunrin' by
at the time, and just looked in at the door to say gude-night: it
was a sad sight. There was she sitting with the silent tear on her
cheek, and Charlie greeting as if he had done a great fault, and the
other four looking on with
sorrowful faces. Never, I am sure, did
Charlie Malcolm
gamble after that night.
I often wondered what brought Mrs Malcolm to our clachan, instead of
going to a
populous town, where she might have taken up a huxtry-
shop, as she was but of a silly
constitution, the which would have
been better for her than
spinning from morning to far in the night,
as if she was in verity
drawing the thread of life. But it was, no
doubt, from an honest pride to hide her
poverty; for when her
daughter Effie was ill with the measles--the poor lassie was very
ill--nobody thought she could come through, and when she did get the
turn, she was for many a day a heavy handful;--our
session being
rich, and nobody on it but
cripple Tammy Daidles, that was at that
time known through all the country side for begging on a horse, I
thought it my duty to call upon Mrs Malcolm in a sympathising way,
and offer her some
assistance, but she refused it.
"No, sir," said she, "I canna take help from the poor's-box,
although it's very true that I am in great need; for it might
hereafter be cast up to my bairns, whom it may please God to restore
to better circumstances when I am no to see't; but I would fain
borrow five pounds, and if, sir, you will write to Mr Maitland, that
is now the Lord Provost of Glasgow, and tell him that Marion Shaw
would be obliged to him for the lend of that soom, I think he will
not fail to send it."
I wrote the letter that night to Provost Maitland, and, by the
retour of the post, I got an answer, with twenty pounds for Mrs
Malcolm,
saying, "That it was with sorrow he heard so small a trifle
could be serviceable." When I took the letter and the money, which
was in a bank-bill, she said, "This is just like himsel'." She then
told me that Mr Maitland had been a gentleman's son of the east
country, but
driven out of his father's house, when a laddie, by his
stepmother; and that he had served as a servant lad with her father,
who was the Laird of Yillcogie, but ran through his
estate, and left
her, his only daughter, in little better than beggary with her
auntie, the mother of Captain Malcolm, her husband that was.
Provost Maitland in his
servitude had ta'en a notion of her; and
when he recovered his patrimony, and had become a great Glasgow
merchant, on
hearing how she was left by her father, he offered to
marry her, but she had promised herself to her cousin the captain,
whose widow she was. He then married a rich lady, and in time grew,
as he was, Lord Provost of the city; but his letter with the twenty
pounds to me, showed that he had not forgotten his first love. It
was a short, but a well-written letter, in a fair hand of write,
containing much of the true gentleman; and Mrs Malcolm said, "Who
knows but out of the regard he once had for their mother, he may do
something for my five
helpless orphans."
Thirdly, Upon the subject of
taking my cousin, Miss Betty Lanshaw,
for my first wife, I have little to say.--It was more out of a
com
passionate
habitualaffection, than the
passion of love. We were
brought up by our
grandmother in the same house, and it was a thing
spoken of from the
beginning, that Betty and me were to be married.
So, when she heard that the Laird of Breadland had given me the
presentation of Dalmailing, she began to prepare for the wedding;
and as soon as the placing was well over, and the manse in order, I
gaed to Ayr, where she was, and we were quietly married, and came
home in a chaise, bringing with us her little brother Andrew, that
died in the East Indies, and he lived and was brought up by us.
Now, this is all, I think, that happened in that year
worthy of
being mentioned, except that at the sacrament, when old Mr Kilfuddy
was
preaching in the tent, it came on such a thunder-plump, that
there was not a single soul stayed in the kirkyard to hear him; for
the which he was greatly mortified, and never after came to our
preachings.
CHAPTER II YEAR 1761
It was in this year that the great smuggling trade corrupted all the
west coast, especially the laigh lands about the Troon and the
Loans. The tea was going like the chaff, the
brandy like well-
water, and the wastrie of all things was terrible. There was
nothing
minded but the riding of cadgers by day, and excisemen by
night--and battles between the smugglers and the king's men, both by
sea and land. There was a
continual drunkenness and debauchery; and
our
session, that was but on the lip of this whirlpool of iniquity,
had an awful time o't. I did all that was in the power of nature to
keep my people from the contagion: I
preached sixteen times from
the text, "Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's." I
visited, and I exhorted; I warned, and I prophesied; I told them
that, although the money came in like sclate stones, it would go
like the snow off the dyke. But for all I could do, the evil got in
among us, and we had no less than three contested
bastard bairns
upon our hands at one time, which was a thing never heard of in a
parish of the shire of Ayr since the Reformation. Two of the
bairns, after no small sifting and searching, we got fathered at
last; but the third, that was by Meg Glaiks, and given to one Rab
Rickerton, was utterly refused, though the fact was not denied; but
he was a termagant fellow, and snappit his fingers at the elders.
The next day he listed in the Scotch Greys, who were then quartered
at Ayr, and we never heard more of him, but thought he had been
slain in battle, till one of the
parish, about three years since,
went up to London to lift a
legacy from a cousin that died among the
Hindoos. When he was walking about,
seeing the curiosities, and
among others Chelsea Hospital, he happened to speak to some of the
invalids, who found out from his tongue that he was a Scotchman; and
speaking to the
invalids, one of them, a very old man, with a grey
head and a leg of
timber, inquired what part of Scotland he was come
from; and when he mentioned my
parish, the
invalid gave a great
shout, and said he was from the same place himself; and who should
this old man be, but the very
identical Rab Rickerton, that was art
and part in Meg Glaiks' disowned bairn. Then they had a long
converse together, and he had come through many hardships, but had
turned out a good soldier; and so, in his old days, was an indoor
pensioner, and very comfortable; and he said that he had, to be
sure, spent his youth in the devil's service, and his
manhood in the
king's, but his old age was given to that of his Maker, which I was