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Penelope's Experiences in Scotland-Part9_Kate Douglas Wiggin(1856-1923)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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Terrace; and though it was quite ten minutes before service when we

entered, Salemina and I only secured the last two seats in the



aisle, and Francesca was obliged to sit on the steps of the pulpit

or seek a sermon elsewhere.



It amused me greatly to see Francesca sitting on pulpit steps, her

Paris gown and smart toque in close juxtaposition to the rusty



bonnet and bombazine dress of a respectableelderly tradeswoman.

The church officer entered first, bearing the great Bible and hymn-



book, which he reverently placed on the pulpit cushions; and close

behind him, to our entire astonishment, came the Reverend Ronald



Macdonald, evidently exchanging with the regular minister of the

parish, whom we had come especially to hear. I pitied Francesca's



confusion and embarrassment, but I was too far from her to offer an

exchange of seats, and through the long service she sat there at the



feet of her foe, so near that she could have touched the hem of his

gown as he knelt devoutly for his first silent prayer.



Perhaps she was thinking of her last interview with him, when she

descanted at length on that superfluity of naughtiness and Biblical



pedantry which, she asserted, made Scottish ministers preach from

out-of-the-way texts.



"I have never been able to find my place in the Bible since I

arrived," she complained to Salemina, when she was quite sure that



Mr. Macdonald was listening to her; and this he generally was, in my

opinion, no matter who chanced to be talking. "What with their



skipping and hopping about from Haggai to Philemon, Habakkuk to

Jude, and Micah to Titus, in their readings, and then settling on



seventh Nahum, sixth Zephaniah, or second Calathumpians for the

sermon, I do nothing but search the Scriptures in the Edinburgh



churches,--search, search, search, until some Christian by my side

or in the pew behind me notices my haplessplight, and hands me a



Bible opened at the text. Last Sunday it was Obadiah first,

fifteenth, `For the day of the Lord is near upon all the heathen.'



It chanced to be a returned missionary who was preaching on that

occasion; but the Bible is full of heathen, and why need he have



chosen a text from Obadiah, poor little Obadiah one page long,

slipped in between Amos and Jonah, where nobody but an elder could



find him?" If Francesca had not seen with wicked delight the

Reverend Ronald's expression of anxiety, she would never have spoken



of second Calathumpians; but of course he has no means of knowing

how unlike herself she is when in his company.



To go back to our first Sunday worship in Edinburgh. The church

officer closed the door of the pulpit on the Reverend Ronald, and I



thought I heard the clicking of a lock; at all events, he returned

at the close of the services to liberate him and escort him back to



the vestry; for the entrances and exits of this beadle, or

`minister's man,' as the church officer is called in the country



districts, form an impressive part of the ceremonies. If he did

lock the minister into the pulpit, it is probably only another



national custom, like the occasional locking in of the passengers in

a railway train, and may be positively necessary in the case of such



magnetic and popular preachers as Mr. Macdonald, or the Friar.

I have never seen such attention, such concentration, as in these



great congregations of the Edinburgh churches. As nearly as I can

judge, it is intellectual rather than emotional; but it is not a



tribute paid to eloquence alone, it is habitual and universal, and

is yielded loyally to insufferable dulness when occasion demands.



When the text is announced, there is an indescribable rhythmic

movement forward, followed by a concerted rustle of Bible leaves;



not the rustle of a few Bibles in a few pious pews, but the rustle

of all of them in all the pews,--and there are more Bibles in an



Edinburgh Presbyterian church than one ever sees anywhere else,

unless it be in the warehouses of the Bible Societies.



The text is read twice clearly, and another rhythmic movement

follows when the books are replaced on the shelves. Then there is a



delightful settling back of the entire congregation, a snuggling

comfortably into corners and a fitting of shoulders to the pews.--






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