The Annals of the Parish: Or, the Chronicle of Dalmailing During the Ministry of the Rev. Micah BalwhidderGalt, John
General
The Annals of the Parish: Or, the Chronicle of Dalmailing During the Ministry of the Rev. Micah Balwhidder
Galt, John
Clergy -- Fiction; Scotland -- Fiction
In the course of the week following, the elders, in a body, came to me in
the manse, and after much commendation of my godly ministry, they said,
that seeing I was now growing old, they thought they could not testify
their respect for me in a better manner than by agreeing to get me a
helper. But I would not at that time listen to such a proposal, for I
felt no falling off in my powers of preaching; on the contrary, I found
myself growing better at it, as I was enabled to hold forth, in an easy
manner, often a whole half hour longer, than I could do a dozen years
before. Therefore nothing was done in this year anent my resignation;
but during the winter, Mrs. Balwhidder was often grieved, in the bad
weather, that I should preach, and, in short, so worked upon my
affections, that I began to think it was fitting for me to comply with
the advice of my friends. Accordingly, in the course of the winter, the
elders began to cast about for a helper; and during the bleak weather in
the ensuing spring, several young men spared me from the necessity of
preaching. But this relates to the concerns of the next and last year of
my ministry. So I will now proceed to give an account of it, very
thankful that I have been permitted, in unmolested tranquillity, to bring
my history to such a point.
CHAPTER LI
YEAR 1810
MY tasks are all near a close; and in writing this final record of my
ministry, the very sound of my pen admonishes me that my life is a burden
on the back of flying Time, that he will soon be obliged to lay down in
his great storehouse—the grave. Old age has, indeed, long warned me to
prepare for rest; and the darkened windows of my sight show that the
night is coming on, while deafness, like a door fast barred, has shut out
all the pleasant sounds of this world, and inclosed me, as it were, in a
prison, even from the voices of my friends.
I have lived longer than the common lot of man, and I have seen, in my
time, many mutations and turnings, and ups and downs, notwithstanding the
great spread that has been in our national prosperity. I have beheld
them that were flourishing like the green bay-trees, made desolate, and
their branches scattered. But, in my own estate, I have had a large and
liberal experience of goodness.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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