Now I could see that the “auld provost” was one of those who kept the precious things of the spiritual life locked up in the sacred repository of his heart, and who with Lady Nairne, the poetess, felt that “religion ought to be a walking and not a talking concern.”
The vestry of St. John’s, in whose hands lay the management of the temporal affairs of the parish, consisted at this time of four members, with myself as chairman. All the four were men worthy of note.
The “auld provost,” of whom I have been speaking, was secretary and treasurer.
The Honorable James Stewart, the laird of Strathfinlas, was of Scottish birth and upbringing, but a graduate of the English University of Cambridge. Succeeding to the estate after he had passed middle life, he had set himself to carry out the principles of Christian Socialism, which he had learned at the feet of Kingsley, Maurice and Fawcett. His neighbor lairds smiled at his enthusiasm, and looked on him as a harmless faddist; but he went on his way, and very soon gained the esteem and affection of the tenantry, as well as the retainers on his lovely demesne.
Andrew Blair had been for many years a successful railway contractor, but even in his busiest times had never ceased to maintain a warm interest in all that concerned the best welfare of the ancient Scottish Church. Now that he had taken to the quiet life of a farmer his interest in church affairs was intensified.
Adam Skene was a tradesman in the village of Dunluther, on the southern side of the cairn. His flowing beard of snowy white marked him out as one of the fathers of the congregation; but, in spite of advancing age, it was something of very grave import which would keep him at home on the weekly day of rest. Staff in hand, he trudged the seven miles of hill road, Sunday after Sunday, in order that he might worship with the brethren of his father’s faith.
Many an earnest discussion did these four worthies have in the dear old parsonage at the quarterly meetings of the vestry. Seldom was there anything of the nature of friction, although sometimes I had to exercise some tact to keep the provost and Andrew Blair from misunderstanding the somewhat novel ideas put forth by the laird.
When I proposed a weekly celebration of the Holy Communion at an early hour, Mr. Stewart warmly supported me. Adam Skene, who was always willing to be led by those better educated than himself, raised no objection. Andrew Blair had sent his sons to one of the schools of the Woodardian foundation, where they had received careful instruction in sacramental life, and so he knew somewhat of the stirring among the Church’s dry bones. He was at least willing to hear all that could be said in favor of the proposed innovation.
The provost alone was in opposition. He listened while the others expressed their approval—and, then, in awe-inspiring tones, he gave his verdict:
“I’m no sayin’, Maister Gray, but what ye mean weel in what ye propose, but, for my part, I think ye’d better leave things as they are. I wadna mind noo an’ then, on the greater feasts, maybe, haein’ what ye ca’ an early celebration, but tak’ ye care lest ye mak’ sacred things ower common. When the auld dean was preparin’ me for my first Saycrament, he spak’ a heap aboot oor preparation for the ordinance, an’ I would just be feared that your new plan micht lead some o’s, speecially the young fowk, to gang forrit oonprepared. I dinna doot that what ye say aboot the early Chistians is true eneuch; but, ye maun mind that there was less risk o’ them dishonorin’ the Lord’s Body than wi’ maist o’ us. The very persecution they had to thole frae the heathen was eneuch to keep them richt. But nooadays we’re free frae ony interference, an’ can worship as oor conscience tells us; an’ maybe we’re juist ready eneuch to tak’ things easy. For ma pairt I’ll e’en be content wi’ the auld way that my father had afore me.”