“MY SON’S A MINISTER”

Evening Star, Issue 19127, 19 December 1925, Page 14

“MY SON’S A MINISTER”

[Written by Duncan Wright, for tho ‘Evening Star.’] ■“I recollect,” says a traveller who was iii a reminiscent mood, “ many years ago, in the old stage coach days, travelling to Perth, and enjnying tho company of a Scottish clergyman who w:is a most amusing companion and full of stories, the quaint humor of which accorded with Ins own disposition. “ When we had come through Glen Farg my companion pointed out that wo were in tho parish of Drow. With much humor he introduced an anecdote of a brother minister not of a brilliant order of mind, who had terminated in this place a coarse of appointments in tho church tho names of which, at least, were of an ominous character for a person of unimaginative temperament. Tho worthy man had been brought up in a school at Dunse; had been made assistant at Dull, a parish near Abcrfeldy, in the Presbytery of Weem; and ha dended his days and his clerical career as minister at this place called Drow,” Uu the study table of a most learned D.D. 1 saw long ago more humorous books and booklets than I had ever seen before, and enjoyed them. And elsewhere I read the following sentences:—“No persons enjoy these stories more than ministers themselves.” A GENERAL AMBITION. A well-known and highly-gifted author makes this declaration: “Long ago there were few parents in Scotland wiio did not cherish in their hei.jLt of hearts tho wish that one of their sons might be consecrated to the service of the church. The same wish is, no doubt, cherished still, but it docs not seem to be so frequently expressed as it was forty or fifty years ago. In those far-olf days the usual question asked of a boy was not “ SVLat is your name?” but “What are yon going to bo?” And out of many families it was expected that at least one boy would reply that ho wished to bo a minister.

Here is a The parents took their son to their minister in order to bo guided and strengthened by his advice. Mr iMair listened attentively to the views and proposals by the father and mother. In the meantime tho boy had (boylike) withdrawn to a window recess, and was there employed iu writing with his finger on one of the panes ■ —noting, perhaps, the heads of his first sermon. But whatever he was engaged in doing, ho was awakened out of his indifference fo the presence of tho family minister by hearing that worthy man saying, in angry tones: “J tell thee, Mr Lawson, he has no mother wit. If a man wants lair ho may get that; if he wants riches he may got them; and oven if he wants grace he may get that. But if a man wants common sense, I tell thee, he will never get that.” Just listen'to the mother who tolls ns in simple, calmest words “My son’s a minister,” as she is quite a representative case.

“ When very young my son was a gey steerin’ laddie, and at the village school gave the dominie no end of worry. With patience and perseverance I kept jogging on with my boy, and when he gained the gold medal in the school his faither and mo were gey prood o’ him, and we baith felt that he would hae ‘ spunk ’ to do even better things, and maybe become a minister. When bus faither drove him to the college wi’ oor auld white horse my heart was gey said, an’ I grat. After long, weary years he again took the medal. After that ho was accepted as a minister, and for us a’ it was a prood, prood day when he held his first service in oor auld parish kirk and preached his first sermon.” GRACE AND NO GRACE. Dr Thomas Guthrie (whose face and figure and voice I remember well) relates that one day a countryman called on the head master of the Brechin Grammar School and asked advice with reference to the professional outlook of a youth accompanying him. “ You see, Mr Linton, my laddie’s fond o’ lair, and I should 'like to gie him a glide eddication.” “ And what would yon like to make him?” asked the master. “ Ob, if be gets grace we’ll mak’ him a minister.” “ And what if be gets no grace?” “Wool, in that case, wc’il jist mak’ him a dominie.” Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild, There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village Preacher’s modest mansion rose, A man be was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year.

No message in relation to preachers and ministers would bo complete without quotations from Dean Kamsay, whoso ‘ .Reminiscences ’ are well known all over the English-speaking world. A clergyman of the Established Church of Scotland had quite a lot of stories about ministers and people, arising out of his own personal experience, or the experience of friends and neighbors. He was much delighted with the not very refined rebuke which one of his own farmers had given to a young minister who had for some Sundays occupied the pulpit. The young man had dined with the farmer in the afternoon, when services were over, and his appetite was so sharp that he thought it necessary to apologise to his host for eating such a substantial dinner. “ You see,” he said, “ T am always very hungry after preaching.” The old gentleman, not much admiring the youth’s pulpit ministrations, having heard this apology two or three times, at Inst replied, sarcastically; “Indeed, sir, I’m no surprised at it, considering the trash that comes off yonr stomach in the morning.” Sermons he heard, yet not so many, .As left no time to practice any. Ho heard them revciAmtly, and then His practice preached them o’er again. A SUITABLE REPROOF.

A ruling elder of a country parish in the West of Scotland was well known in the district as a shrewd and readywitted main Three young students gave him a call, as many others did, to hear one of his jokes. They wanted a little amusement at the cider’s expense. On approaching him they said, mdely, “Well, Father Abraham, how are you to-day?” “You are wrong.” said the other, “ this is old Father Isaac.” “Tuts,” said the third, “you are both mistaken; this is old Father Jacob.” The farmer looked at the young men, and in his own way replied: “I am neither Father Abraham nor old Father Isaac, nor old Father Jacob; but I am Saul, the son of Kish, seeking bis father’s asses, and, lo! I’ve found three of them.” Norman Macleod, while a student in the University of Glasgow, was in the habit of spending his Sundays at homo in the manse of Campsie, These weekly visits frequently gave occasion for grave concern on the part of his father and mother; for coming, as the lad did, in the full swing of fresh and buoyant excitement after the restraint of study, the noisy fun and ceaseless frolic in which he indulged made them afraid that the young student would not bo sedate enough for the work of the ministry. As far back as 1790 Rev. John Wesley preached at Lincoln; his text was, ‘One thing is needful.’ When the congregation were retiring from the chapel a lady worshipper exclaimed, in a tone of surprise, “ Is this the great preacher of whom we hear so much in the present day? Why, the poorest might have understood him.” The gentleman to whom the remark was made, replied:

“In this, madam, ho displays his greatness; that while tho poorest can understand him, the most learned aro edified, and cannot be offended.” A young clergyman once called upon Dr D. Wright, and inquired respecting the best method of treating a very dilficult and obstruso point in mental philosophy upon which he was preparing a sermon. Replied the doctor: “ I cannot give you any information on tho subject. I am not familiar with such topics. 1 leave them for young men.” THE BEST PASSAGE. Another conceited minister having delivered a sermon in the hearing of an experienced older preacher, pressed him, with self-complacency and indelicacy, to state what he thought of the sermon. Mr Hall remained silent for some time, hoping that his silence would be understood. At length he said: “There was one very fine passage, sir,” “ X am rejoiced to hear you say so. Pray, sir, what was it?” “why, sir, it was the passage from tho pulpit into tho vestry.”

In Dr Hanna’s well-known ‘ Memoirs of Dr Thomas Chalmers ’ we are told that almost as soon as he could form nr announce a purpose the future famous Scottish preacher declared that he would he a'minister. ' The sister of one of his school-fellows at Anstruthor remembered breaking in upon her brother and Chalmers in a room to which they had retired together. There she found young Chalmers standing on a chair and preaching most vigorously to his single auditor below. Not only had he resolved to he a minister, hut he had actually fixed upon his first text, and that was, “ Let_ brotherly love continue.” [The coming groat theologian in embryo.] Another famous Scottish preacher, Dr Alexander Carlyle, of Tnvcresk, took to addressing an audience while only a child—an audience larger than that which listened to young Chalmers. At six years of age, Carlyle one Sunday morning found that about a dozen old women had been unable to obtain entrance into the parish church of Prcstonnans, where his father was minister. So to this “ overflow meeting ” the child actually proposed to road a chanter in Scripture, and the bettor to hear the infant teacher, tho auld wives set him on a tombstone, from which ho read to an audience, increased to about a score, the whole of the ‘ Song of Solomon.’