Inchbracken: The Story of a Fama ClamosaCleland, Robert
General
Inchbracken: The Story of a Fama Clamosa
Cleland, Robert
Historical fiction; Scotland -- Fiction
Joseph's heart did indeed burn at the suggestion, though not perhaps
exactly in the sense intended by Mr. Geddie. It had been promotion for
him when he was made beadle and appointed to carry the great Bible up
and down the pulpit stairs,--a ministrant, and in his own opinion an
essential one, in all the public functions of religion; and he loved
to skip about among the hushed and reverent worshippers, showing one
where he might sit, and admonishing another to behave. But what was
all that to being a catechist? which was 'the next door,' as he told
himself, 'to a minister a' thegither;' not merely to go up the pulpit
stairs, but to go into the pulpit and sit down, while future beadles
would meekly follow, and close the pulpit door behind his reverence.
It was too delightful! An utterly beatific vision! He had just parted
from Jean Macaulay, and his mind had been full of schemings how to
secure her for a wife. But would Jean make a help-meet for a
catechist? Even with Elspeth's croft and her savings, he feared Jean
would scarcely be equal to that higher sphere; and before even he had
replied to Mr. Geddie, he had almost made up his mind that she would
not suit.
'Aweel, sir! there's nae misdoubtin' but it wad be a preevilege to be
layin' out the truith afore the neglecket puir. But whaur was't ye was
wantin't for?'
'There is a neglected district along the coast, where the people are
too poor to support a minister; but yet they should not be left a prey
to Erastianism, and it has been proposed to send some pious man to
labour among them who would read to them and talk to them, enlighten
them on Free Church principles, and address them occasionally. How
would the work suit you? And would you like to give it a trial?'
'Aweel sir! I wad like weel to be direckin' the puir bodies the gate
they suld gang. An' what's the waages, sir? Or I'm thinkin' I hae
heard tell it's saalary ye ca' a catechist's pay, being mair
honorable.'
'About thirty pounds a-year we think we could raise. You would live
among them, of course, and you would find it a most interesting and
constant employment. I should think for an earnest and active man like
you it would be the very thing.'
'But thirty pound the year's no twal shilling e'y week, an' the folk
ye say's puir, an' gin a man gaed out an' in amang them, he beut to
help them whiles wi' siller. I see na hoo yer catechist cud do't at
the price.'
'Think on the privilege, Joseph! And if you do well no doubt we will
be able to find higher work for you.'
'Ay! But a man canna just eat an' drink his preevileges, an' he canna
sell them for siller to buy shune! I'm but a bederal, sir, but week
out an' week in, it 's liker twunty shillin's, what I can mak atween
that an' my tred.'
'Well! we must think it over, Joseph, and you can write to me what you
think you could undertake the work for, and we'll consider how much we
can give. Mr. Sangster! I am so sorry to have missed you, but I
understood you had gone home.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account