St. Cuthberts | Page 3

my
tumultuous thoughts, garnering the wheat unto Himself and burning the
tares with unquenchable fire.
Onward rushed the hours, and onward rolled the train in its desperate
struggle with them, till the setting sun, victorious over both, reminded
me that I would be in New Jedboro before the dusk deepened into dark.

Then restored I my sermon notes, reburnished and repaired, to the
trusty keeping of my well-worn valise, settling myself for one of those
delicious baths of thought to be truly enjoyed only on the farther side of
toil.
I had but well begun to compose my mind and to forecast the probable
experiences of the morrow, when a rich Scotch voice broke in upon me
with the unmistakable inquiry, "And where micht ye be gaein?"
I responded with the name of New Jedboro, assuming the air of a man
who was bent only upon a welcome visit to long-separated friends. But
I had reckoned without my host. My interrogator was a Scot, with the
Scot's incurable curiosity, always to be estimated by the indifference of
his air. If his face be eloquent of profound unconcern, then may you
know that a fever of inquisitiveness is burning at his heart.
My questioner seemed to scarcely listen for my answer, yet a tutored
eye could tell that he was camping on my trail.
His next interrogation was launched with courteous composure: "Ye'll
no' be the man wha's expeckit in St. Cuthbert's ower the Sabbath?"
I now saw that this was no diluted Scotsman. Bred on Canadian soil, he
was yet original and pure. He had struck the native Scottish note, the
ecclesiastical. Like all his countrymen, he had a native taste for a
minister. His instincts were towards the Kirk, and for all things akin to
Psalm or Presbytery he intuitively took the scent. I have maintained to
this day that he sniffed my sermons from afar, undeceived by the
worldly flavour of my rusty bag.
I collected myself heroically, and replied that I was looking forward to
the discharge of the high duty to which he had referred. Upon this
admission he moved nearer, as a great lawyer stalks his quarry in the
witness box. He eyed me solemnly for a moment, with the look of one
taking aim, and then said slowly--
"I'm no' an elder in that kirk."

"Are you not?" said I, with as generous an intonation of surprise as
conscience would permit.
"I'm no' an elder," he repeated. "But I gang till it," he added.
Then followed a pause, which I dared to break with the remark, "I am
told it is a spacious edifice."
He merely glanced at me, as if to say that all irrelevant conversation
was out of place, and then continued--
"And I'm no' the precentor; I'm no' the man, ye ken, that lifts the tune."
I nodded sympathetically, trying to convey my sense of the mistake the
congregation had made in its choice of both elders and precentor.
"Ye wud say, to luik at me, that I'm no' an office-seeker, an' ye're richt.
But I haud an office for a' that."
This time I smiled as if light had come to me, and as one who has been
reassured in his belief in an overruling Providence.
"What office do you hold?" said I.
"Ye wudna guess in a twalmonth. I'm no' the treasurer, as ye're
thinkin'--I'm the beadle."
I uttered a brief eulogy upon the honour and responsibility of that
position, pointing out that the beadle had a dignity all his own, as well
as the elders and other officers of the kirk.
He endorsed my views with swift complacent nods.
"That's what I aye think o' when I see the elders on the Sabbath
mornin'," said he; "forbye, there's severals o' them, but wha ever heard
tell o' mair than ae beadle? And what's mair, I had raither be a
door-keeper in the Lord's hoose than dwall in tents o' sin. Them's
Dauvit's words, and they aye come to me when I compare mysel' wi'
the elders."

I hurriedly commended his reference to the Scriptures, at the same time
avoiding any share in his rather significant classification, remarking on
the other hand that elders had their place, and that authority was
indispensable in all churches, and the very essence of the Presbyterian
system.
He interrupted me, fearing he had been misunderstood.
"Mind ye," he declared fervently, "I'm no' settin' mysel' up even wi' the
minister. I regard him as mair important than me--far mair important,"
he affirmed, with reckless humility, "but the elders, they are juist
common fowk like mysel'. An' at times they are mair than common. Me
an' the minister bear a deal frae the elders. He aye bids me to bear wi'
them, an' I aye bid him no'