It is told of another of the consequential breed that being asked by a member of the kirk—one of the humbler order—if he knew whether or not the minister was to be preaching himself on the approaching Sabbath, he dryly replied, “It’s ill for me to ken a’ that the minister intends doin’. Come ye to the kirk, an’ whether the minister’s there or no, ye’ll see me in the poopit as usual, at ony rate.”
“Indeed, sir,” said Robert Fairgrieve, the beadle of Ancrum, one day to the minister, “Huz (us) that are offish-bearers (meaning the minister and himself) should be examples to the flock.”
The self-same functionary when on his death-bed was visited by the minister, who was a little concerned to find him in a restless and discontented humour. On enquiring into the cause of his uneasiness, Robert replied, “Weel, sir, I was just mindin’ that I have buried 598 fowk since I was made bedral o’ Ancrum, and I was anxious, gin it were His will, that I micht be spared to mak’ it the sax hunder.”
When beadle meets beadle, as is the common practice with persons in other walks of life, they enter glibly into a free-and-easy criticism of their respective chiefs. One is admittedly “strong in prayer,” whilst another is set aside as “weak in doctrine,” and so forth.
“I think oor minister does weel,” said one. “Man! hoo he gars the stoure flee oot o’ the cooshions!”
“Stoure oot o’ the cooshions!” sneered another. “If ye’ve a notion o’ powerfu’ preachin’, come owre an’ gie us a day’s hearin’. Wad ye believe it?—for a’ the short time yon man o’ ours has delivered the Word amang us, he has knockit three poopits a’ to shivers, an’ has dung the guts out o’ five Bibles!”
“The last minister I was wi’,” said one, “had a great power o’ water; for he grat, an’ swat, an’ spat like the very mischief.”
“Well, Saunders,” said a country clergyman to his beadle on Monday morning, “how did you like that minister who was preaching for me yesterday?”
“Oh, just very middlin’ ways, sir,” replied Saunders. “Just very middlin’ ways. He was far owre plain and simple for me. I like a preacher that jummils the joodgement and confoonds the sense awee; and dod, sir, I never heard ony o’ them that could beat yersel’ at that.”
Well said, Saunders! There are many people about who estimate a preacher much in the same fashion—measure his eloquence by his success in “jummlin’ their joodgement” and “confoondin’ their senses.” They desire sermons so “deep” that they cannot see to the bottom of them; the more incomprehensible the preaching, the more profound the preacher is declared to be.