BITS FROM BLINKBONNY

OR

BELL O’ THE MANSE

A TALE OF SCOTTISH VILLAGE LIFE BETWEEN

1841 AND 1851

BY

JOHN STRATHESK

With Six Original Illustrations

TORONTO

WILLIAM BRIGGS, 78 & 80 KING ST. EAST

C. W. COATES, Montreal, Que. S. F. HUESTIS, Halifax, N.S.

——

1885

Entered, according to the Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and eighty-five, by William Briggs, agent for John Tod, St. Leonard’s, Scotland, in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture, at Ottawa.

PREFACE.

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THESE “Bits from Blinkbonny” were grouped together by the Author to beguile the tedium of a protracted period of domestic quarantine. They are not only his first attempt at sustained literary work, but they were commenced without any concerted plan.

Blinkbonny was selected as a pretty name for a Scottish village, but the Author himself cannot fix the precise locality; and all the names he has used are supposititious, excepting those of such public characters as Dr. Duff, Dr. Guthrie, etc.

Owing to his having adopted the autobiographical form, the Author has experienced more difficulty in writing the preface than any other part of the book, as, although most of the incidents are founded on fact, a good deal of imported matter has been required to form a connected narrative. He also knows that in[vi] bringing together the varieties of character and incident that an ordinary Scotch village affords, he has passed “from grave to gay, from lively to severe,” in some instances with injudicious abruptness, and that there are other defects for which he needs to apologize; but as even his readers will probably differ as to where these occur, it is not desirable for him to dwell on them.

The Author is not in any way connected with the Free Church of Scotland, and at the outset he had no intention of treating so largely as he has done of the “Disruption” of 1843; if, however, he induces the rising generation to study the past and the present of that great movement, neither they nor he will regret the prominence given to it in this volume.

The illustrations with which the book is embellished are “composition” sketches; but the Author confidently leaves these to introduce themselves.

The idiom of the Scottish language—the dear old Doric—has been to the Author a difficult matter to render, so as to be at once intelligible to ordinary readers and fairly representative of the everyday mother tongue of the common people of Scotland. He hopes that he has succeeded in doing this, as well[vii] as in preserving a few of the floating traditions of the passing generation which are so rapidly being swept away by the absorbing whirlpool of these bustling times, and that his readers will follow with kindly interest these homely records of the various subjects he has tried to portray in these “Bits from Blinkbonny.”

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.

The author is delighted to find you so hurriedly called for, that he has only time to express the hope that you will receive as kindly a welcome as your precursor has done.

February 1882.

[viii]

PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.

The author gladly avails himself of the opportunity you afford him, to express his gratification at the warm reception which Bell and her friends at Blinkbonny have met with on both sides of the Atlantic, as well as to make a few verbal corrections.

July 1882.

CONTENTS.

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CHAPTER I.

THE MANSE.

PAGE

The Artist and his Bits—Blinkbonny—The Author and his Relations—The Good Folks at Greenknowe—The Manse—Once thinking of getting married—The Interrupted Call—Mr. and Mrs. Barrie—Bell of the Manse—Wee Nellie—Her Illness, Death, and Grave—“A Butterfly on a Grave” (Mrs. Sigourney),

CHAPTER II.

A QUIET EVENING AT THE MANSE.

Bell’s Sliding Scale—Her Pattens—The Hospitality of the Manse—Be judeecious—James and his Skates—Mrs. Barrie’s Experiences—Mr. Barrie’s Illness—The Good Samaritan—A Startling Proposal,

CHAPTER III.

THE MARRIAGE AND THE HOME-COMING.

“The Books”—P.P.C.—Marriage Presents—“The Confession of Faith”—Toasts—“The Frostit Corn”—“The Country Rockin’”—Auntie Mattie—“The Farmer’s Ingle”—Peggy Ritchie on the Churchyard—A Lamb Leg and a Berry Tart—Mathieson’s Heid,

CHAPTER IV.

THE TWO SIDES OF THE CHURCH QUESTION.

Coming Events—Bell and the Seed Potatoes—Her Idea of the Government—Knowe Park—Spunks—The Town-Clerk of Ephesus—Bell’s summing up—Daisy—The Eve of Battle—Sir John McLelland’s Opinions on the “Evangelicals”—Patronage—Preaching Competitions—Little Gab—Non-Intrusion and Voting,

CHAPTER V.

BLINKBONNY AND THE DISRUPTION.

Bell’s Opinion of Knowe Park—Mr. Barrie’s Return—The Deputation’s Visit to the Manse—Mr. Barrie’s Statement—Mr. Taylor’s Views—George Brown on the Crisis—His Covenanting Relics,

CHAPTER VI.

THE DISRUPTION AND BLINKBONNY.

The Meeting in Beltane Hall—The End of the Ten Years’ Conflict—George Brown’s Exercises—The Bellman’s Difficulty—Sabbath Services at the Annie Green—“Thae Cath’lics”—The Secession Church—Mr. Barrie’s Successor—Bell and Smoking—“Hillend” on Doctors and Ministers—A Man amang Sheep,

CHAPTER VII.

OUT OF THE OLD HOME AND INTO THE NEW.

Leaving the Manse—Dr. Guthrie and the Children—Nellie’s Tibby—Well settled—Bell’s Experiment with the Hens—Dan Corbett—Braid Nebs—Babbie’s Mill,

CHAPTER VIII.

BLINKBONNY FREE CHURCH.

The Disruption of 1843—Hardships—Scotch Villages and Church Matters—The New Church—The Session and Deacons—The Beadle, Walter Dalgleish—The Precentorship—Psalms and Hymns—Mr. Barrie’s New Life—Foreign Missions—The Assembly’s Decision—The Living Child—Saxpence—“Gude Siller gaun oot o’ the Country”—Reminiscences of Dr. Duff,

CHAPTER IX.

BELL AT HOME IN KNOWE PARK.

The Three Ministers of Blinkbonny—Mr. Walker—The Ten Virgins—The finest o’ the Wheat—Bell’s Fee—Alloa Yarn—Bell’s Cooking—Sheep’s-head—Mr. Kirkwood and the Potato-Soup—Dan in the Kitchen—Mr. Gordon o’ the Granaries and the Smugglers—Dan at Nellie’s Grave—Mr. Barrie’s Visit to Dan,

CHAPTER X.

INCIDENTS IN BLINKBONNY.

Miss Park on Dan—The Sweep’s dead—Mrs. Gray’s Elegy on her Husband—The Coffin for naething—The New School-master—The Roast Beef in the Lobby—The Examination Committee—“Hoo’ to get there”—George Brown’s Death—Scripture References—Mrs. Barrie and Mr. Corbett—Dan and the Pictures—Dan’s Bath—His Dream—Dan at Church—His Visit to Babbie’s Mill—Colonel Gordon’s First Visit—Sir John McLelland at the Soiree—“The Angel’s Whisper” (Samuel Lover),

CHAPTER XI.

CHANGES AT KNOWE PARK.

The Dorcas Society—The Morisonian Controversy—Colonel Gordon’s Second Visit—A Real Scotch Dinner—Champagne—Dan[xii] an’ the Duke o’ Gordon—The Smuggler’s Log-book—Colonel Gordon’s Will—Dan’s Bank—The Call to Edinburgh—No-Popery Agitation—David Tait o’ Blackbrae—The Sow and the Corinthians—Bell woo’d—Mrs. Barrie breaks the Ice—Bell won—Found out and congratulated,

CHAPTER XII.

ANOTHER MARRIAGE AND HOME-COMING.

The Forms of Procedure—Reception of the News of Bell’s Marriage by Mr. Taylor, and by Sir John McLelland—“Her Weight in Gold”—Bell’s Presents—“Hook ma Back”—Mr. Walker’s Violin—Bell’s Marriage and Home-coming—The Infar Cake—Creeling—Dan, “Burke,” and the Noisy Convoy—The Vexing Pig—The “Kirkin’,”

CHAPTER XIII.

CONCLUSION.

The Packing at Knowe Park—The Bachelor Umbrella—Nellie’s Box—Dan and Rosie—Dan on Evangelical Effort—On “The Angel’s Whisper”—Bell in Edinburgh—Home to Blackbrae—Andrew Taylor’s Criticisms,

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

——◆——

BITS FROM BLINKBONNY.

BITS FROM BLINKBONNY.

——◆——

CHAPTER I.

THE MANSE AND ITS INMATES.

AN eminent artist, a member of the Royal Scottish Academy, who, although well up in the seventies, and feeling many of the infirmities of advanced age, still continues to enrich the world by as charming landscapes and crisp sea-pieces as he produced in his younger days, was showing me some of his sketches from nature, many of them bearing traces of repeated handling. His face brightened up when a well-thumbed favourite was lighted on amongst the promiscuous contents of the old portfolio. With his eye fixed on the sketch, and his hand moving as if either the pencil or the brush were in it, he told with animation where he made this sketch or took that “bit.”

[2]

“Ah!” said he, “painting is a difficult, a very difficult thing; in fact, it’s just made up of ‘bits’—just bits. A something takes your eye,—a nook, a clump of trees, often a single tree, a boulder, or rocks (grand effects of light and shade on rocks)—ay, even the shape or tinge of a cloud. Well, to work you go, and down with it.—There,” said he, as he lifted what seemed a mere scrawl on a half-sheet of old note-paper, “I took that at the Bank door. I was struck with the effect of the sunlight on water falling over a barrel that a man was filling in the river, and thought it would make a nice picture. I got that bit of paper out of the Bank, took off my hat, laid the paper on it, sketched it off in—oh! less than five minutes, and put it on canvas next day. There’s another. I did that bit on the leaf of my fishing pocket-book at Makumrich, near old Gilston Castle. Now there,” said he, taking up a rough-looking, unfinished sea-scene in oil, “that has been a very useful bit. I was sketching North Berwick Harbour, when all at

once I was struck with an effect of light and shade on the sea. I was able to hit it exactly;” and as he said this, he moved his head from side to side and scanned the picture, saying, “That bit has been of great use to me, although I have never made a finished picture of it. The ‘effect,’ the gleam, the tone are as nearly[3] perfect as possible. Ah,” continued he, laying down the sketch, and turning to his easel, on which lay a snow scene,—an old thatched cottage, in my opinion quite finished,—“now there’s lots of bits to work up in that picture.” And sometimes shaking his brush, and sometimes whirling it in a very small circle close to the picture, but never touching it, he said, “There—and there—and perhaps there. Ah! nobody would believe what a labour it is to make a good picture, with all the bits and bits!”

I am but an aspirant in literature, and would never presume to compare myself with the veteran artist, or think that I could ever arrange my bits of village gossip and incident with the artistic skill which has earned for him the order of merit that he has so honourably won and so worthily wears, but I confess to a desire to present some of the bits of the everyday social life of Blinkbonny in such a form as to give my readers an idea of its lights and shadows.

Blinkbonny is more of a village than a town, although it is generally spoken of by the outside world as a town, owing to its having its small weekly market and occasional fairs. It lies fully thirty miles inland from Edinburgh, and is the centre of a good agricultural district, with a background of moorland and hills. My father was a merchant in it,—a very general[4] merchant, as he dealt in grain, wool, seeds, groceries, cloth, hardware, and various other commodities. This may seem a strange mixture in these days of the division of labour and subdivision of trades, but such dealers were not uncommon fifty years ago, and they were frequently men of considerable capital and influence. My elder and only brother was a partner with my father in the business; and as I had early expressed a desire to be a minister, I was sent to Edinburgh to prosecute my studies in that direction, and had completed my fourth session at college, when the death of my brother rendered it necessary that I should do all in my power to supply his place.

I had been but a few months at home, when my father, whose health had been failing for some years, became a confirmed invalid. My brother’s death had not only affected his spirits, but injured his health, and within little more than a year after this heavy trial the old man was laid beside his wife and eldest son in the churchyard of Blinkbonny. My sisters, all of them older than myself, were married, excepting Maggie; and about a year after my father’s death Maggie became Mrs. McLauchlan, so that I was left a very young inmate of Bachelor Hall. When I had time to feel lonely I did so, but the demands of business kept me thoroughly employed; and although I joined habitually[5] in the socialities of the neighbourhood, I did not seriously think of getting married until I was called on to act as bridegroom’s man to my schoolfellow and college companion, John McNab, now the Reverend John McNab. He married Mary Stewart of Greenknowe, the daughter of a small proprietor on the outskirts of our village. Her sister Agnes was bridesmaid, and we

were necessarily brought a good deal into one another’s society. I had often met her before, and liked her in a general way, but at her sister’s marriage I came fully under the influence of her charms. There was something—well, something—I cannot describe it by any other word than just “something”—that fairly possessed me. For days afterwards she was in my head, in my dreams, in my heart. I will not describe our courtship; it was neither long nor romantic. I wooed and won her, got Mrs. Stewart’s consent, and on New Year’s Day 1841 we fixed that our marriage should take place in the last week of January.

Mrs. Stewart felt the cold weather severely, and could not venture to call at the manse to request Mr. Barrie, our worthy parish minister, to perform the ceremony. She asked Agnes to go in her stead, but Agnes could not muster courage to do so—she even felt too shy to write to Mr. Barrie; so, although it was not exactly according to the strict rules of etiquette[6] I promised to call on Mr. Barrie next day, and to arrange the matter with him.

Blinkbonny. (Page 6).

The manse stood on the top of a piece of slightly rising ground, about a quarter of a mile to the south-west of the village. The situation was a pleasant one. It commanded on three sides extensive views of a well-cultivated country, backed by high and picturesque hills; the village bounded the view on the north-east. Near the manse stood the neat church, surrounded by the churchyard. There were also a park of about four acres, a garden covering nearly an acre, and some outhouses, the whole enclosed by a compact wall.

I had been on intimate terms with all the inmates of the manse, from Bell, the only and worthy servant, upwards; but my errand made me feel rather confused, and instead of the usual off-hand remark to Bell, varying from, “Weel, Bell, hoo’s a’ wi’ ye?” to comments on the weather or crops, as suited the season, I bluntly asked if Mr. Barrie was engaged. There was a flavour of tartness in Bell’s manner as she replied, “Mr. Barrie’s aye thrang, but he’s aye ready to see onybody that wants him partic’larly. I’ll speir at him if he’s engaged,” and she disappeared. Mr. Barrie himself came to the door, shook hands with me with more than usual heartiness, put a special emphasis on the [7]happy in wishing me “a happy New Year,” gave my hand a sort of squeeze, took a long look at me, and with a smirk on his face said, “Come in, Mr. Martin, come in.” He had not called me “Mr.” before, but only plain Robert; and from the blithe way in which he showed me into the “study,” I saw that he knew my position, if not my errand.

Our conversation was at first general, and on my side jerky. I did not follow up intelligently the subjects he introduced, but was either silent or rambling on quite irrelevant topics. He made a long pause, doubtless to induce me to lead, as he evidently saw I was not able to follow. The not uncommon weakness of Scotchmen, of trying to conceal strong emotions even on subjects on which they feel very keenly, was working in me. I was heart-glad at the prospect of my marriage, and well I might; but I wished to appear very cool, so, as if merely beginning another subject, I said in a conversational way, “I was once thinking of getting married.” Scarcely had I finished the sentence, when Bell announced that Sir John McLelland would like to speak to Mr. Barrie when he was disengaged. Knowing that Sir John was the largest landowner in the parish, and the patron of the church, and that he was taking an active part in a church extension scheme in which Mr. Barrie was[8] deeply interested, I at once left the “study,” stating that I would call to-morrow night, and made for

Greenknowe, where I was bantered by both ladies, but especially by Mrs. Stewart, when I told about “once thinking of getting married.”

Laying the emphasis first on the once, then on the thinking, then on both, she said, “Is that all the length you are? You should think twice—second thoughts are often best. Agnes, if you had either called or written as I wished, we could have had the invitations out to-day; but perhaps Robert will take the second thought to-night, and until he quite makes up his mind we must wait with patience.”

Next night found me at the manse door, which Bell “answered.” I was very frank, but Bell had barely digested last night’s slight, and before I had finished my salutation to her she said dryly, “It’ll be the minister ye want the nicht again?” and showed me into the study. Mr. Barrie, after expressing regret at the sudden breaking up of our last night’s interview, asked me if the day had been fixed. I told him that we would prefer the last Tuesday of January, if that date suited him. He at once said, “I’ll make it suit me;” and after noting it in a memorandum book, he proceeded, although I had not mentioned the name of my future wife, to speak very nicely of the good folks at[9] Greenknowe; of the late Mr. Stewart, who had been one of his elders, and from whom, in the earlier years of his ministry, he had received much useful counsel; of Mrs. Stewart’s almost motherly kindness ever since he came to the parish; of his great esteem for Miss Stewart (my Agnes), and of her devotion to her father, especially in his long and last illness. He

also spoke of my late father and brother as excellent, very excellent men, said some things about myself which I will not repeat, and taking me by the hand, said, “Humanly speaking, your marriage promises to be in every respect a happy event for all concerned. May God bless you both, and make you blessings to one another, to all your circle, to the Church, and to the world.”

I thanked him warmly, and added that I might trouble him by asking his advice on some matters, and possibly Mrs. Barrie’s; and was proceeding to bid him good-night, when he said, “Robert, this is an occasion, I may say a great occasion, and you must take an egg with us. I told Mrs. Barrie last night that you were ‘once thinking of getting married.’ She will be delighted to learn that your second thought has got the length of fixing the day. And, whilst I am in the habit of giving all young bridegrooms a few quiet hints, I would like you to have a chat with[10] both of us. You will find Mrs. Barrie’s counsel sound and practical, so we’ll join her in the parlour;” and suiting the action to the word, he lifted the lamp, and asking me to follow him, made for the snug parlour, where he announced me as “a subject of compound interest now, not simple as before.”