“I think, Mrs Dolly, that was scarce proper, in the King’s and Queen’s presence.”
“So I think, my dear. But King Charles’s Court was Liberty Hall, and every man did that which was right in his own eyes. But Davie stood very quiet, with the Bible yet open in his hands. He waited his master’s bidding, if they did not. ‘Oh ay, go on, Davie,’ saith the King, leaning back in his chair and laughing. ‘Silence for Mr David Armstrong’s sermon!’ cries my Lord Rochester, in a voice of a master of ceremonies. But Davie took no note of any voice but the King’s, though ’twas to my Lord Rochester he addressed him when he spoke. ‘That wine cheereth man, your Lordship very well knows,’ quoth Davie, in his dry way: and seeing his Lordship had drank a bottle and a half since he sat down, I should think he did, my dears. ‘But this, that wine cheereth God, is referable to the drink-offering commanded by God of the Jews, wherein the wine doth seem to typify the precious blood of Christ, and the thankfulness of him that hath his iniquity thereby purged away. For in the fifteenth chapter of the Book of Numbers you shall find this drink-offering termed “a sweet savour unto the Lord.” And since nothing but Christ is a sweet savour unto God, therefore we judge that the wine of the drink-offering, like to that of the Sacrament, did denote the blood of Christ whereby we are redeemed; the one prefiguring that whereto it looked forward, as the other doth likewise figure that whereunto it looketh back. This, therefore, that wine cheereth God, is to be understood by an emblem, of the blood of Christ, our Mediator; for through this means God is well pleased in the way of salvation that He hath appointed, whereby His justice is satisfied. His law fulfilled, His mercy reigneth, His grace doth triumph, all His perfections do agree together, the sinner is saved, and God in Christ glorified. Now, Sire, I have done your bidding, and I humbly ask your Majesty’s leave to withdraw.’ The King said naught, but cast him a nod of consent. My dears, you never saw such a change as had come over that table. Every man seemed sobered and awed. The Queen was weeping, the King silent and thoughtful. My Lord Rochester, whom at that time nothing could sober long, was the only one to speak, and rising with make-believe gravity, as though in his place in the House of Lords, he offered a motion that the King should please to send Mr Howard into the kitchen to make kail, and raise the Reverend Mr David Armstrong to the place of chaplain.”
“What is kail, Mrs Dolly?” asked Rhoda, laughing.
“’Tis Scots broth, my dear, whereof King Charles was very fond, and old David had been fetched from Scotland on purpose to make it for him.”
“What a droll old man!” exclaimed Rhoda.
“Ah, he was one of the best men ever I knew,” said Mrs Dorothy. “But, my dear, look at the clock!”
“I declare!” cried Rhoda. “Phoebe, we have but just time to run home ere supper, if so much as that. Good evening, Mrs Dolly, and thank you. What will Madam say?”
Note: David Armstrong is a historical person, and this anecdote is true. The surname given to him only is fictitious, as history does not record any name but “David.”