Undoubtedly the experience through which I passed gave me an outlook on life, which has been of inestimable value.
Now and then I made my way across the river to the “Chapel”, as the Episcopal Church was called by the villagers; I learned to follow the services in the Book of Common Prayer; but the prejudices against a prearranged form of worship were hard to uproot, and my Scottish soul revolted at the English accent of the clergyman. Nothing is more repellent to my countrymen than to think of their being dominated by the “Sassenach”; and, nothing has contributed more to the success of the Scottish Episcopal Church than the ministration of clergy of Scottish birth and lineage. My old friend, Mr. Lindsay, was sometimes very caustic in his criticism of a certain young English cleric, who was in charge of a country living at no great distance from us. “Poor laddie,” he would say, “he seems to think oor sturdy Scotch folk are as illiterate as the working men he had in his last English curacy. The time has lang gane by, when oor folks were sae under the thraldom o’ priest and laird that they couldna ca’ their souls their ain. Nae man has a greater respect for the church and the minister than oor folks hae; but, whatever is presented to them maun appeal to their reason and common sense, or they’ll hae nane o’t. There’s nae a man in his congregation that canna tell him why he is an Episcopalian. He needna think he can drive his folk as he would a herd o’ stirks.”
Mr. Lindsay was always delighted to help me, when I asked his assistance, but, when he saw me impatient to find a way out of my quandary, he would say, “Mind the auld Latin motto—‘Festina lente’. Just you tak’ your time, and get a clear grasp o’ things before you set aside the faith o’ your fathers.” I have no doubt but that I was saved from many misgivings and serious misunderstandings, by giving heed to the wise counsel.
I never got to be well acquainted with the rector of the Episcopal Church, very much to my regret; but, perhaps it was just as well that I should “dree my ain weird.”
It was about this time that Mr. Lindsay introduced me to Bishop Wordsworth’s “Theophilus Anglicanus”, which gave me a full explanation of the genesis, and development, and organization of the Church of Christ. He also lent me Palmer’s Treatise on the Church, which I found very useful, but not altogether satisfactory to my way of thinking.
I was very unwilling to say anything of my religious difficulties to my own family; and so, when the time came for me to begin my work in England, I left home to all outward appearances happy and contented, but in reality groping after truth, tossing to and fro on a sea of uncertainty and seeming contradiction.
V. Crossing the Rubicon
I HAVE always looked upon the River Tweed as my Rubicon.
While life in the dear old home-land had for me much that was sweet and attractive, it had yet been a “cribb’d, cabin’d, confin’d” life; my idea of men and things had of necessity been mainly drawn from within the narrow limits of an old world, rural district; in matters of faith and practice my mind had come to be in a state of great unrest, bordering on revolt.
Life on the southern side of the Tweed was broader and more generous; the society into which I was cast had in it elements which could have been born only of a more comprehensive outlook and a greater interchange of thought; religion rested on a more Catholic basis.