The established Presbyterian church stood in its ancient burial-ground on the north side of the square, quite close to the old house in which Dean Skinner wrote “Tullochgorum”. The first minister I remember was the Reverend Dr. Ogg, whose smile and kindly words were like a benediction to us children. He died when I was twelve, and was succeeded by a man of an altogether different type. Before he came to us he had been Assistant in a large city parish, and, as we thought, rather gave himself airs on that account. It’s true, there were few country ministers more popular with the gentlefolks; no one was more welcome at a garden party, and, he was a first-class tennis player. He had taken his B.D. degree, and was generally supposed to be of a scholarly turn; but, insofar as turning his learning to practical account was concerned, results were meagre. When I was about fifteen years of age, I saw a good deal of a Mr. Cowie, a man of beautiful life and wide reading. He was an elder of the Parish church, but had distinct leanings towards Plymouth Brethrenism. My converse with him raised the question of the Baptism of Infants; and, for a time I was at loss to know just what to believe. I went to Mr. Greig, the parish minister, and laid my difficulties before him. So far from helping, he hindered me. He did not understand the eagerness of my countrymen for the acquisition of knowledge; he treated me as a forward child, who was inquiring into things entirely beyond his grasp. He was too busy to go into the matter then, and told me to go home and forget about it. I asked for bread, and he gave me a stone. My father and mother were members of his church; but, they did not lay down any hard and fast law to me, so long as I went to church. For some time I wavered in my leanings. Our home was near to both the Free and United Presbyterian Churches. Occasionally I attended the last named, mainly because I liked to hear Mr. Haldane, the U.P. minister, commenting on the Scripture lessons, as he read. One could not fail to be instructed. He was a dear old man, and was beloved by everybody. His quiet, unobtrusive, saintly life was one long uplifting sermon. You could not be in his company without appreciating the rays of happiness and kindliness that were all the time going forth from him. No one would have classed him as an eloquent preacher, in the ordinary acceptation of the term; but, he possessed a gentle persuasiveness, that had a wonderful influence on his little flock. For several years I most frequently attended the Free Church, of which I became a communicant at the age of sixteen. The minister, the Reverend William Manson, had taken a brilliant degree in classics at the University of Aberdeen--and he had been equally proficient in Oriental languages--during his course at the Theological Hall.