The Little Minister Read online

  Chapter Two.

  RUNS ALONGSIDE THE MAKING OF A MINISTER.

  On the east coast of Scotland, hidden, as if in a quarry, at the footof cliffs that may one day fall forward, is a village called Harvie.So has it shrunk since the day when I skulked from it that I hear of atraveller's asking lately at one of its doors how far he was from avillage; yet Harvie throve once and was celebrated even in distantThrums for its fish. Most of our weavers would have thought it asunnatural not to buy harvies in the square on the Muckle Friday, as tolet Saturday night pass without laying in a sufficient stock ofhalfpennies to go round the family twice.

  Gavin was born in Harvie, but left it at such an early age that hecould only recall thatched houses with nets drying on the roofs, and asandy shore in which coarse grass grew. In the picture he could notpick out the house of his birth, though he might have been able to goto it had he ever returned to the village. Soon he learned that hismother did not care to speak of Harvie, and perhaps he thought thatshe had forgotten it too, all save one scene to which his memory stillguided him. When his mind wandered to Harvie, Gavin saw the door ofhis home open and a fisherman enter, who scratched his head and thensaid, "Your man's drowned, missis." Gavin seemed to see many womencrying, and his mother staring at them with a face suddenly paintedwhite, and next to hear a voice that was his own saying, "Never mind,mother; I'll be a man to you now, and I'll need breeks for theburial." But Adam required no funeral, for his body lay deep in thesea.

  Gavin thought that this was the tragedy of his mother's life, and themost memorable event of his own childhood. But it was neither. WhenMargaret, even after she came to Thrums, thought of Harvie, it was notat Adam's death she shuddered, but at the recollection of me.

  It would ill become me to take a late revenge on Adam Dishart now bysaying what is not true of him. Though he died a fisherman he was asailor for a great part of his life, and doubtless his recklessnesswas washed into him on the high seas, where in his time men made acrony of death, and drank merrily over dodging it for another night.To me his roars of laughter without cause were as repellent as a boy'sdrum; yet many faces that were long in my company brightened at hiscoming, and women, with whom, despite my yearning, I was in no wise afavorite, ran to their doors to listen to him as readily as to thebell-man. Children scurried from him if his mood was savage, but tohim at all other times, while me they merely disregarded. There wasalways a smell of the sea about him. He had a rolling gait, unless hewas drunk, when he walked very straight, and before both sexes heboasted that any woman would take him for his beard alone. Of thisbeard he took prodigious care, though otherwise thinking little of hisappearance, and I now see that he understood women better than I did,who had nevertheless reflected much about them. It cannot be said thathe was vain, for though he thought he attracted women strangely, that,I maintain, is a weakness common to all men, and so no more to bemarvelled at than a stake in a fence. Foreign oaths were the nailswith which he held his talk together, yet I doubt not they were acuriosity gathered at sea, like his chains of shells, more for his ownpleasure than for others' pain. His friends gave them no weight, andwhen he wanted to talk emphatically he kept them back, though theywere then as troublesome to him as eggs to the bird-nesting boy whohas to speak with his spoil in his mouth.

  Adam was drowned on Gavin's fourth birthday, a year after I had toleave Harvie. He was blown off his smack in a storm, and could notreach the rope his partner flung him. "It's no go, lad," he shouted;"so long, Jim," and sank.

  A month afterwards Margaret sold her share in the smack, which was allAdam left her, and the furniture of the house was rouped. She tookGavin to Glasgow, where her only brother needed a housekeeper, andthere mother and son remained until Gavin got his call to Thrums.During those seventeen years I lost knowledge of them as completely asMargaret had lost knowledge of me. On hearing of Adam's death I wentback to Harvie to try to trace her, but she had feared this, and sotold no one where she was going.

  According to Margaret, Gavin's genius showed itself while he was stilla child. He was born with a brow whose nobility impressed her from thefirst. It was a minister's brow, and though Margaret herself was noscholar, being as slow to read as she was quick at turning bannocks onthe girdle, she decided, when his age was still counted by months,that the ministry had need of him. In those days the first questionasked of a child was not, "Tell me your name," but "What are you tobe?" and one child in every family replied, "A minister." He was setapart for the Church as doggedly as the shilling a week for the rent,and the rule held good though the family consisted of only one boy.From his earliest days Gavin thought he had been fashioned for theministry as certainly as a spade for digging, and Margaret rejoicedand marvelled thereat, though she had made her own puzzle. Anenthusiastic mother may bend her son's mind as she chooses if shebegins at once; nay, she may do stranger things. I know a mother inThrums who loves "features," and had a child born with no chin tospeak of. The neighbors expected this to bring her to the dust, but itonly showed what a mother can do. In a few months that child had achin with the best of them.

  Margaret's brother died, but she remained in his single room, and,ever with a picture of her son in a pulpit to repay her, contrived tokeep Gavin at school. Everything a woman's fingers can do Margaret'sdid better than most, and among the wealthy people who employedher--would that I could have the teaching of the sons of such as weregood to her in those hard days!--her gentle manner was spoken of. Forthough Margaret had no schooling, she was a lady at heart, moving andalmost speaking as one even in Harvie, where they did not perhaps likeher the better for it.

  At six Gavin hit another boy hard for belonging to the EstablishedChurch, and at seven he could not lose himself in the ShorterCatechism. His mother expounded the Scriptures to him till he waseight, when he began to expound them to her. By this time he wasstudying the practical work of the pulpit as enthusiastically as evermedical student cut off a leg. From a front pew in the gallery Gavinwatched the minister's every movement, noting that the first thing todo on ascending the pulpit is to cover your face with your hands, asif the exalted position affected you like a strong light, and thesecond to move the big Bible slightly, to show that the kirk officer,not having had a university education, could not be expected to knowthe very spot on which it ought to lie. Gavin saw that the ministerjoined in the singing more like one countenancing a seemly thing thanbecause he needed it himself, and that he only sang a mouthful now andagain after the congregation was in full pursuit of the precentor. Itwas noteworthy that the first prayer lasted longer than all theothers, and that to read the intimations about the Bible-class and thecollection elsewhere than immediately before the last Psalm would havebeen as sacrilegious as to insert the dedication to King James at theend of Revelation. Sitting under a minister justly honoured in hisday, the boy was often some words in advance of him, not vaingloriousof his memory, but fervent, eager, and regarding the preacher ashardly less sacred than the Book. Gavin was encouraged by hisfrightened yet admiring mother to saw the air from their pew as theminister sawed it in the pulpit, and two benedictions were pronouncedtwice a Sabbath in that church, in the same words, the same manner,and simultaneously.

  There was a black year when the things of this world, especially itspastimes, took such a grip of Gavin that he said to Margaret he wouldrather be good at the high jump than the author of "The Pilgrim'sProgress." That year passed, and Gavin came to his right mind. Oneafternoon Margaret was at home making a glengarry for him out of apiece of carpet, and giving it a tartan edging, when the boy boundedin from school, crying, "Come quick, mother, and you'll see him."Margaret reached the door in time to see a street musician flying fromGavin and his friends. "Did you take stock of him, mother?" the boyasked when he reappeared with the mark of a muddy stick on his back."He's a Papist!--a sore sight, mother, a sore sight. We stoned him forpersecuting the noble Martyrs."

  When Gavin was twelve he went to the university, and also got a placein a shop as errand boy. He used to
run through the streets betweenhis work and his classes. Potatoes and salt fish, which could then begot at two pence the pound if bought by the half-hundred weight, werehis food. There was not always a good meal for two, yet when Gavinreached home at night there was generally something ready for him,and Margaret had supped "hours ago." Gavin's hunger urged him to fallto, but his love for his mother made him watchful.

  "What did you have yourself, mother?" he would demand suspiciously.

  "Oh, I had a fine supper, I assure you."

  "What had you?"

  "I had potatoes, for one thing."

  "And dripping?"

  "You may be sure."

  "Mother, you're cheating me. The dripping hasn't been touched sinceyesterday."

  "I dinna--don't--care for dripping--no much."

  Then would Gavin stride the room fiercely, a queer little figure.

  "Do you think I'll stand this, mother? Will I let myself be pamperedwith dripping and every delicacy while you starve?"

  "Gavin, I really dinna care for dripping."

  "Then I'll give up my classes, and we can have butter."

  "I assure you I'm no hungry. It's different wi' a growing laddie."

  "I'm not a growing laddie," Gavin would say, bitterly; "but, mother, Iwarn you that not another bite passes my throat till I see you eatingtoo."

  So Margaret had to take her seat at the table, and when she said "Ican eat no more," Gavin retorted sternly, "Nor will I, for fine I seethrough you."

  These two were as one far more than most married people, and, just asGavin in his childhood reflected his mother, she now reflected him.The people for whom she sewed thought it was contact with them thathad rubbed the broad Scotch from her tongue, but she was only keepingpace with Gavin. When she was excited the Harvie words came back toher, as they come back to me. I have taught the English language allmy life, and I try to write it, but everything I say in this book Ifirst think to myself in the Doric. This, too, I notice, that intalking to myself I am broader than when gossiping with the farmers ofthe glen, who send their children to me to learn English, and thenjeer at them if they say "old lights" instead of "auld lichts."

  To Margaret it was happiness to sit through the long evenings sewing,and look over her work at Gavin as he read or wrote or recited tohimself the learning of the schools. But she coughed every time theweather changed, and then Gavin would start.

  "You must go to your bed, mother," he would say, tearing himself fromhis books; or he would sit beside her and talk of the dream that wascommon to both--a dream of a manse where Margaret was mistress andGavin was called the minister. Every night Gavin was at his mother'sbedside to wind her shawl round her feet, and while he did it Margaretsmiled.

  "Mother, this is the chaff pillow you've taken out of my bed, andgiven me your feather one."

  "Gavin, you needna change them. I winna have the feather pillow."

  "Do you dare to think I'll let you sleep on chaff? Put up your head.Now, is that soft?"

  "It's fine. I dinna deny but what I sleep better on feathers. Do youmind, Gavin, you bought this pillow for me the moment you got yourbursary money?"

  The reserve that is a wall between many of the Scottish poor had beenbroken down by these two. When he saw his mother sleeping happily,Gavin went back to his work. To save the expense of a lamp, he wouldput his book almost beneath the dying fire, and, taking the place ofthe fender, read till he was shivering with cold.

  "Gavin, it is near morning, and you not in your bed yet! What are youthinking about so hard?"

  "Oh, mother, I was wondering if the time would ever come when I wouldbe a minister, and you would have an egg for your breakfast everymorning."

  So the years passed, and soon Gavin would be a minister. He had nowsermons to prepare, and every one of them was first preached toMargaret. How solemn was his voice, how his eyes flashed, how sternwere his admonitions.

  "Gavin, such a sermon I never heard. The spirit of God is on you. I'mashamed you should have me for a mother."

  "God grant, mother," Gavin said, little thinking what was soon tohappen, or he would have made this prayer on his knees, "that you maynever be ashamed to have me for a son."

  "Ah, mother," he would say wistfully, "it is not a great sermon, butdo you think I'm preaching Christ? That is what I try, but I'm carriedaway and forget to watch myself."

  "The Lord has you by the hand, Gavin; and mind, I dinna say thatbecause you're my laddie."

  "Yes, you do, mother, and well I know it, and yet it does me good tohear you."

  That it did him good I, who would fain have shared those days withthem, am very sure. The praise that comes of love does not make usvain, but humble rather. Knowing what we are, the pride that shines inour mother's eyes as she looks at us is about the most pathetic thinga man has to face, but he would be a devil altogether if it did notburn some of the sin out of him.

  Not long before Gavin preached for our kirk and got his call, a greatevent took place in the little room at Glasgow. The student appearedfor the first time before his mother in his ministerial clothes. Hewore the black silk hat, that was destined to become a terror toevil-doers in Thrums, and I dare say he was rather puffed up abouthimself that day. You would probably have smiled at him.

  "It's a pity I'm so little, mother," he said with a sigh.

  "You're no what I would call a particularly long man," Margaret said,"but you're just the height I like."

  Then Gavin went out in his grandeur, and Margaret cried for an hour.She was thinking of me as well as of Gavin, and as it happens, I knowthat I was thinking at the same time of her. Gavin kept a diary inthose days, which I have seen, and by comparing it with mine, Idiscovered that while he was showing himself to his mother in hisblack clothes, I was on my way back from Tilliedrum, where I had goneto buy a sand-glass for the school. The one I bought was so likeanother Margaret had used at Harvie that it set me thinking of heragain all the way home. This is a matter hardly worth mentioning, andyet it interests me.

  Busy days followed the call to Thrums, and Gavin had difficulty inforcing himself to his sermons when there was always something more totell his mother about the weaving town they were going to, or aboutthe manse or the furniture that had been transferred to him by theretiring minister. The little room which had become so familiar thatit seemed one of a family party of three had to be stripped, and manyof its contents were sold. Among what were brought to Thrums was alittle exercise book, in which Margaret had tried, unknown to Gavin,to teach herself writing and grammar, that she might be less unfit fora manse. He found it accidentally one day. It was full of "I am, thouart, he is," and the like, written many times in a shaking hand. Gavinput his arms round his mother when he saw what she had been doing. Theexercise book is in my desk now, and will be my little maid's when Idie.

  "Gavin, Gavin," Margaret said many times in those last days atGlasgow, "to think it has all come true!"

  "Let the last word you say in the house be a prayer of thankfulness,"she whispered to him when they were taking a final glance at the oldhome.

  In the bare room they called the house, the little minister and hismother went on their knees, but, as it chanced, their last word therewas not addressed to God.

  "Gavin," Margaret whispered as he took her arm, "do you think thisbonnet sets me?"