My father's name was Stephen Patterson. He was son of Janet McAdam, wife of Stephen Patterson, the martyr, as my aunt has recorded. To my parents were born two sons, Kenneth and Walter; but I was the only daughter. My brothers were older than I.
Living as we did but two generations after our suffering kindred, it will not be accounted a strange thing that we were early filled with admiration for those who so stoutly resisted oppression. I well remember with what eagerness we gathered around Aunt Effie to hear from her lips stories of their seal and courage. She loved to see us manifest this interest, which assured her that we too would stand up in defence of our rights and privileges, should they ever be assailed.
It is not my design, however, to dwell on anything she has written, or the time of which she wrote, but to speak of those who came after her, and endeavor to show that religion with our people was not a fitful, feeble flame, fanned and kindled only by persecution, but a steady fire, that has since lighted the rugged path of poverty and toil, as it illuminated the dungeons where our forefathers were incarcerated.
In my father's family we knew little of real poverty, for industry had brought back a degree of prosperity; but we all had to labor continually in order to keep the little property that was left to our grandmother by Bessie McDougal, as you will remember. But poverty was around us, even in families whose ancestors had been wealthy and titled. We were early taught to think of those poorer than ourselves; nor were we taught by precept alone, but by example as well. I remember that, at the time when the husbandmen were to cast in the seed, many a measure of grain was given from our own store; for grandmother thought that if folk could not get wherewith to sow, they surely could not reap. It was her delight to give, and she frequently stood by and added another handful after father had given all he thought he could spare. What a grandmother she was! I cannot adequately describe her. One must have known her personally to be able to form a correct idea of her. She was remarkable for sweetness of disposition, kindness, and dignity of manner, and her earnest piety was known of all. The Bible was her constant study. She believed it with the heart as well as with the head, and trusted its promises with simple childlike faith. In all her trials she relied on a present Saviour, and she brought this Saviour so near to us that we almost felt his presence. She had proved him in darker hours than we had ever known, and her faith was immovable. She endeavored to inspire us with her own faith and trust.
"You must know, my dear bairns," she said to us one Sabbath afternoon, "that the Lord Jesus has said, 'I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.' Remember that, 'never leave thee nor forsake thee;' no, not for one wee moment. He leads us with his hand; he guides us with his eye; he calls us by name, and gives us gifts. The best gift, forbye the gift of eternal life, is that of peace. We are not promised rest in this world; but we are promised peace, and that brings us all the rest we need. We shall have rest after a while, when our work in this world is all done. The Lord could give us wealth and free us from toil if it would be good for us; but he kens better. He said, 'Not as the world giveth give I unto you.' He kens that hardships and trials are good for us; and as a wise father chastises his children, so we are chastised by our Heavenly Father, and we must aye trust that it is for our good."
Poor Kenneth! he found it hard, even in her day, to believe that all was ordered for his good. Only a few days after she had thus talked with us Kenneth was seeking a stray lamb, and, leaping a wall in his haste, he did not quite clear it, but fell, and a heavy stone fell with him and broke his leg. He rolled away the stone, but he could not win his way home. He had to lie there on the grass and wait for some one to come seeking him; and there father found him two hours later. A surgeon was immediately sent for, but he was long in coming; and whether he did not rightly understand his business, or what was the cause, I cannot say, but the limb did not mend well, and the poor lad halted ever after. He took this sorely to heart, and no one could still his sad complainings but grandmother. As I think of it now I do not wonder at his murmurings—so young and full of life, to be maimed before he had reached the stature of manhood. Only the grace of God can enable us to say under such trials, "Thy holy will be done." If this trouble, sore as it was, had been all that was meted out to us, we still would have been able to favor the lad, and so try to make his burden lighter. But in the midst of harvest the same year father was stricken with palsy, and we thought his hour had come. He lingered helpless, and at last began slowly to recover; but he never was strong on his feet again, and never had the full use of his right arm. With these two afflictions our worldly prospects seemed sadly blighted.
Mother was, up to this time, but a gentle, clinging woman; but troubles brought into action her hidden power and courage, and from being consoled under light trials and difficulties she became consoler to us all. Of this we had great need; for grandmother, who always sought to interpret the dark, mysterious providences of God as real blessings, was taken from us by death. Father grieved sorely for grandmother, and so did we all. Her strength was hardly abated, and her heart was still young. She had a kindly and a comforting word for every one who needed it, and she was sadly missed by many besides ourselves. But the change in mother helped us all, and father often said, "Agnes, what should we do in all our difficulties without your strength and courage? The more we are cast down, the more you lift us up and the stronger you seem."
Walter, wee man, buckled to the work right earnestly. But his strength was small, and mother and I wrought in the field many a day during haying and harvest. Many kinds of work were too heavy for us, and as the years went by we were obliged to pay out many pounds for help, and this expense ate sorely into the profits of the harvest. But we had butter and cheese to sell, and our sheep furnished us much of our clothing, so that our expenses were small, and, with the blessing of God, we were kept from want. Kenneth did what he could, and was never idle; but we kept him in school as much as we could, that he might be able to earn his bread with his head and his fingers and not with his bodily strength. Father oftentimes essayed to put in the sickle, but was as often forced to yield. But, thanks to God, naught happened to Walter, and after a few years he was able to stand master of the work himself; and father and Kenneth learned the lesson, often so hard to learn, that they must trust their Leader, though they cannot see the way in which they are led.