DR BURNS IN THE PULPIT.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 20415, 23 May 1928, Page 3

DR BURNS IN THE PULPIT.

Written for the Otago Daily Times By G.L.D. The number of Dunedin residents who knew Dr Burns in the ptilpit cannot be large, and this notwithstanding that one of his family is still happily with us. The following slight sketch may therefore have some interest: — . My father carried a letter of introduction to Dr Burns in 1862 from his minister in Seo®and, the Rev. Dr Robert Buchanan, at that time probably the leading Free Churchman in Scotland, a stalwart of the Disruption, and author of “The Ten Years’ Conflict.” He was of handsome and imposing presence, and as he addressed the letter, he said, in his courtly way, “He is Dr Burns now, is he not? ” This letter was delivered shortly after my father’s arrival. I have not quite forgiven his omission to take me with him on his visit to the manse, which was then situated on a little eminence in Princes street, where the warehouse of Messrs John Edmond, Ltd., now stands. (Hence Manse street. Manse reserve, etc.)'. The visit was a most cordial one, host and guest having many interests in common, and the latter being a close student and ardent admirer, of his host’s famous kinsman, the poet, of whose works my father noticed more than one edition on the library shelves. On the Sunday following our arrival we attended morning service at the First Church, then housed in a small building in Dowling street, where Sargood’s warehouse now stands. It was a small church, without gallery, and was so well fitted that but for the good offices of an elder in attendance, Mr James Morris (uncle of Mr Crosby Morris), a.n carlj school-fellow of my father, we might not have obtained a seat. We found ourselves finally at the very foot of the pulpit the same small red pine piece of furniture, if I mistake not, now in the Earlj Settlers’ Museum, and I sat within a few feet of the preacher. His appearance, was arresting—copious white hair, parted in the middle, a fine head, small white side whiskers, and the brilliant eyes of his race. Biographers of the poet assert that he had an eye no woman could resist, but “ Rab ” was a philanderer! Had we one on different ground! I have but. a scanty recollection of the sermon, but I remember the text, the preacher’s closing sentence, and his method of delivery. The text was “Fear not, little flock, it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” Placing each hand under the sides' of the open Bible and fixing his piercing eyes, as it seemed, on the boy beneath him, he repeated his text in this manner: “ Fear not. little flock, it is your FatherV good pleasure (pause) what to do! ’’ (another pause), and then—closing the Bible with a snap, and very emphatically—“ to give you the kingdom.”