“Shoozie!” exclaimed the astonished divine; “what do you mean by Shoozie?”
“Oh, ye ken, sir,” replied the matron, “that was a cuddie we had. She dee’d twa or three weeks syne, and she was a kindly beast; an’ I just thocht whiles when I heard ye in yer raptur’s the day it was her roarin’, an’ I fairly broke doon wi’t.”
It was customary long ago to speak of the topic of a sermon as its ground or grund, and the story is told of an old woman bustling into church rather late one day. The preacher, a young man, had commenced his sermon. The old dame, opening her Bible, nudged her next neighbour with the inquiry, “What’s his grund?”
“Oh,” rejoined the other, “the silly elf’s lost his grund lang syne; he’s just soomin’!”
It was no use trying to throw dust in the eyes of such practical people.
Another plain-spoken dame said of a preacher of diminutive stature, who occasionally officiated in the church in which she was a regular hearer, and to whom she cherished some antipathy, “If there’s an ill text in a’ the Bible, that ugly wratch o’ a creatur’ is sure to tak’ it.”
A city congregation not long since presented their minister with a sum of money, and sent him off to the Continent for a holiday. Soon after, a gentleman, just returned from the Continent, meeting a prominent member of the congregation, said, “Oh, by the by, I met your minister in Germany. He was looking very well—he didn’t look as if he needed a rest.” “No,” said the member calmly, “it wasna him, it was the congregation that was needin’ a rest.”
Shortly after a Congregational chapel had been planted in a small burgh in the North, an incident occurred which showed that the powers of its minister were appreciated in certain quarters. A boy named Johnnie Fordyce had been indiscreet enough to put a sixpence in his mouth, and accidentally swallowed it. Mrs. Fordyce, concerned both for her boy and the sixpence, tried every means for its recovery, consulted her neighbours, and finally, in despair, called in the doctor, but without result. As a last resort, a young girl present suggested that they should send for the Congregationalist minister. “The minister?” chorused mother and neighbours. “Ay, the minister,” rejoined the girl. “My faither says if there’s siller in onybody he’ll tak’ it oot o’ them.”
The following illustrates how careful a minister should be to fulfil his promises. A poor old deaf man, residing in Fife, was visited one day by the parish minister, who had been recently inducted. Talking with the spouse of the afflicted parishioner, the minister professed to be greatly interested in the old man’s case, and promised before leaving that he would call regularly and pray with him. He, however, did not darken the door of their home again until about two years after, when happening to go through the street in which the old man lived, he found the wife standing at the door, and of course made anxious inquiry regarding her husband.