I said that it was not at all likely that force would be required, as I believed that if the Government persisted in doing what the ministers thought wrong, the ministers would leave the Church quietly rather than submit to have their rights and those of the Christian Church interfered with.
“There’s nae Government will ever gang against gude ministers, at ony rate against Mr. Barrie; they’re the best friends the Government has,” said Bell. Then looking at it in her particular light, she added, “Will ony ither body, Government or no Government, get the peas and cabbage and taties out o’ our garden?” for Bell was an active partner.
“I hope not,” said I, “but it’s not very unlikely.”
“If I thocht that, I would neither plant nor sow anither dreel—that I would not; and if you’ll take the early taties I’ve cut, I’ll sell ye them. They’re a grand kind, the auld early Dons,—grand growers, lots at every shaw, and gude eaters,—nothing to beat them for size and quality.”
I agreed to take Bell’s seed-potatoes, which partly pacified her; but she came back on, “It’s no’ possible! Leave the manse—na!” until I said that the Knowe Park garden would need to be put right at once, that it was very good soil, that I would be happy to buy all her spare plants and seeds, and that she should still keep the manse garden right, as there was no saying what might happen.
Bell gave a qualified assent to this proposal: “She would see; but she maun awa’ hame. She would need to take something up with her;” the something was a bunch of spunks (bits of thin split wood, very dry, about six inches long, tipped with sulphur, used for lighting candles and lamps, unknown now that lucifer matches are so common) and a few pounds of salt.
Mr. Barrie looked in on me shortly after Bell had left, and after a little general talk he quietly remarked that the house—villa, he termed it—was getting on, and that it looked a nice place. “Was I going to build on the east side of the Knowe Park? Had I any tenant in view? What would be the rent? Would it be ready by Whitsunday—and dry?”
THE SHADOWS DEEPEN.
His manner and precision evinced something more than mere friendly interest, and following as they did so much in the train of Bell’s visit, I concluded that he would “come out” if the Government did not yield. It had been evident for some time that his sympathies were with what was then called the “Evangelical” party, although that name was by him considered unfair to the other side, and he preferred calling it the protesting party; but he had taken no prominent part in the public discussions, and was scrupulously careful about introducing ecclesiastical politics into his pulpit ministrations. “The good seed is the Word of God,” he would often say; “and as ordained to minister to the souls of my parishioners, I try to preach it faithfully, fully, and practically, avoiding controversy of all kinds, political, ecclesiastical, theological, or dogmatic. The only way to do real good, even in opposing error or bigotry, is to preach the truth in love.”
April had passed; May had covered the earth with beauty, and blossom, and promise. Never did the manse look so well, or its surroundings more delightful, than on the evening before Mr. Barrie left for the General Assembly in Edinburgh. I made an errand to the manse, ostensibly to ask him to procure a certain book for me when in town, but really to see if I could pick up an inkling of his mind on the Church controversy, and to offer to be of any service in my power.