Rabbi Saunderson | Page 9

Rabbi used to reach the higher levels of his study
by wonderful gymnastic feats, but after two falls--one with three
Ante-Nicene fathers in close pursuit--he determined to call in assistance.
This he did after an impressive fashion. When he attended the roup at
Pitfoodles--a day of historical prices--and purchased in open
competition, at three times its value, a small stack ladder, Kilbogie was
convulsed, and Mains had to offer explanations.
"He's cuttit aff seevin feet, and rins up it tae get his tapmaist bukes, but
that's no' a'," and then Mains gave it to be understood that the rest of the
things the minister had done with that ladder were beyond words. For
in order that the rough wood might not scar the sensitive backs of the
fathers, the Rabbi had covered the upper end with cloth, and for that
purpose had utilised a pair of trousers. It was not within his ability in
any way to reduce or adapt his material, so that those interesting
garments remained in their original shape, and, as often as the ladder
stood reversed, presented a very impressive and diverting spectacle. It
was the inspiration of one of Carmichael's most successful stories--how
he had done his best to console a woman on the death of her husband,
and had not altogether failed, till she caught sight of the deceased's
nether garments waving disconsolately on a rope in the garden, when
she refused to be comforted. "Toom (empty) breeks tae me noo," and
she wept profusely, "toom breeks tae me."
One of the great efforts of the Rabbi's life was to seat his visitors, since,
beyond the one chair, accommodation had to be provided on the table,
wheresoever there happened to be no papers, and on the ledges of the
bookcases. It was pretty to see the host suggesting from a long
experience those coigns of vantage he counted easiest and safest, giving
warnings also of unsuspected danger in the shape of restless books that
might either yield beneath one's feet or descend on one's head.
Carmichael, however, needed no such guidance, for he knew his way
about in the marvellous place, and at once made for what the boys
called the throne of the fathers. This was a lordly seat, laid as to its
foundation in mediaeval divines of ponderous content, but excellently
finished with the Benedictine edition of St. Augustine, softened by two

cushions, one for a seat and another for a back. Here Carmichael used
to sit in great content, smoking and listening while the Rabbi hunted an
idea through Scripture with many authorities, or defended the wildest
Calvinism with strange, learned arguments; from this place he would
watch the Rabbi searching for a lost note on some passage of Holy Writ
amid a pile of papers two feet deep, through which he burrowed on
all-fours, or climbing for a book on the sky-line, to forget his errand
and to expound some point of doctrine from the top of the ladder.
[Illustration: SEARCHING FOR A LOST NOTE]
"You're comfortable, John, and you do not want to put off your boots
after all that travelling to and fro? Then I will search for Barbara, and
secure some refreshment for our bodies"; and Carmichael watched the
Rabbi depart with pity, for he was going on a troublous errand.
Housekeepers are, after beadles, the most wonderful functionaries in
the ecclesiastical life of Scotland, and every species could be found
within a day's journey of Drumtochty. Jenkins, indeed, suggested that a
series of papers on Church institutions read at the clerical club should
include one on housekeepers, and offered to supply the want, which
was the reason why Dr. Dowbiggin refused to certify him to a vacancy,
speaking of him as "frivolous and irresponsible." The class ranged from
Sarah of Drumtochty, who could cook and knew nothing about
ecclesiastical affairs, to that austere damsel, Margaret Meiklewham of
Pitscowrie, who had never prepared an appetising meal in her life, but
might have sat as an elder in the Presbytery.
Among all her class, Barbara MacCluckie stood an easy worst, being
the most incapable, unsightly, evil-tempered, vexatious woman into
whose hands an unmarried man had ever been delivered. MacWheep
had his own trials, but his ruler saw that he had sufficient food and
some comfort, but Barbara laid herself out to make the Rabbi's life a
misery. He only obtained his meals as a favour, and an extra blanket
had to be won by a week's abject humiliation. Fire was only allowed
him at times, and he secured oil for his lamp by stratagem. Latterly he
was glad to send strange ministers to Mains, and his boys alone forced
lodgment in the manse. The settlement of Barbara was the great

calamity of the Rabbi's life, and was the doing of