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An Object-Oriented Approach to Programming Logic and Design, Fourth Edition 6-1
Chapter 6
Using Methods
At a Glance
• Objectives
• Teaching Tips
• Quick Quizzes
• Additional Projects
• Additional Resources
• Key Terms
An Object-Oriented Approach to Programming Logic and Design, Fourth Edition 6-2
Lecture Notes
Overview
Chapter 6 presents another universal topic in object-oriented programming. Methods are a
fundamental concept and provide the foundation for a program. The chapter begins by
presenting the advantages of modularization and what is involved in modularizing a
program. Next, local and global variables and constants are described. This is followed by a
discussion regarding the creation of various methods using single variable arguments,
multiple variable arguments, array elements as arguments, and arrays themselves as
arguments. The topic of returning a variable to the calling method is also covered. The end
of the chapter discusses various important topics, including overloading methods, avoiding
ambiguous code, and the convenience of predefined methods.
Chapter Objectives
In this chapter, your students will learn about:
• The advantages of modularization
• Modularizing a program
• Declaring local and global variables and constants
• Methods that require parameters
• Methods that return a value
• Passing an array to a method
• Overloading methods
• Using predefined methods
Teaching Tips
Understanding the Advantages of Modularization
1. Introduce the concept of modularization, which is the process of breaking down the
programming process into smaller, more manageable units. Mention that modules are
also called subroutines, procedures, functions, or methods, depending on the
programming language you are working with. This book will use the term method.
2. Discuss the advantages of modularization using the bulleted list on Page 205.
3. Explain that methods provide a way to achieve abstraction, making complex tasks look
simple.
1. Explain that most well-written methods execute a single, finite task, making them easier
to understand than a large program.
1. Discuss another advantage of breaking down a task into methods; it can be more easily
divided among various people. Commercial software applications are developed this
way.
2. Give some real-world examples of reusability, such as reusing plumbing and heating
systems in the construction of a new home.
3. Introduce reliability, which is the feature of programs and methods that assures you
each has been tested and proved to function correctly.
Modularizing a Program
1. Explain that application classes have the option of containing additional methods that
the main() method can use.
3. Explain that when a main() method needs to use another method, it calls the method,
or invokes it, using the method’s name.
4. Describe the flowchart symbol used to represent a method— a rectangle with a bar
across the top. Note that the method name goes inside the rectangle.
5. Introduce the example in Figure 6-1 on Page 209, which produces a customer’s bill
using only a main() method.
An Object-Oriented Approach to Programming Logic and Design, Fourth Edition 6-4
6. Review Figure 6-2 on Page 210 and discuss the modularization that is accomplished by
the addition of the displayAddressInfo() method.
7. Explain some of the advantages of the modularized program shown in Figure 6-2. That
is, the main() method remains short and easy to follow, and the method in the
modularized version is easily reusable.
9. Note that when using the displayAddressInfo() method within its own class, it
is not necessary to use the full name. Using it within another class requires identifying it
by its full name.
10. Explain that there are no fixed rules for how to break down programs into methods; it
requires experience.
11. Define functional cohesion, which describes the extent to which a method’s statements
contribute to the specific task.
Remind students that when you call a method, the action is similar to putting a
Teaching DVD player on pause. You abandon your first action (watching a video), take
Tip care of some other task (for example, making a sandwich), and when the
secondary task is complete, you return to the main task exactly where you left
off.
2. Using Figure 6-3 on Page 213, show an example of a method that contains three named
constant declarations.
3. Explain that variables and constants declared in a method are usable only within that
method. Note that the terms local, in scope, and visible are other ways of referring to
variables that are known only within a method. When the method ends, its variables are
said to go out of scope.
4. Make sure students understand that local variables and constants cannot be used by the
main() method.
An Object-Oriented Approach to Programming Logic and Design, Fourth Edition 6-5
5. Mention that in the last example, the variables in the main() method are local to main
and not visible within the displayAddressInfo() method.
6. Define portable methods, which are self-contained units that are easily transportable to
other applications. Note that the definitions for variables and constants should come
with the method.
7. Explain global variables and constants, which are known to the entire class. They are
declared inside a class but outside any methods.
8. Describe how methods share data, noting that data can be passed into and returned out
of methods. Using the bulleted list on page 214, explain three requirements of calling a
method.
2. Give the example of a square() method that you can supply with a parameter that
represents the value to be squared.
5. Show Figure 6-5 on page 217, which illustrates how the billing program might look
when executed in a command-line environment.
An Object-Oriented Approach to Programming Logic and Design, Fourth Edition 6-6
6. Discuss the items that must be included within the method header’s parentheses: the
type of parameter and local name for the parameter.
7. Review that in the program in Figure 6-4, the value of the balance is stored in two
places in memory; main() stores it in the variable balance and passes it to
displayAddressInfo()as an argument. Note that the
displayAddressInfo() method accepts the parameter as amountDue.
2. Mention that most of the time, an argument is passed by value, forcing the method to
contain its own copy of the value.
4. Explain that the name of the variable passed in can be either the same or different as the
parameter in the method header.
5. Go through the logic in the program shown in Figure 6-6 on page 219, as an example of
passing an argument by value. Figure 6-7 shows the execution of the program in Figure
6-6.
8. Explain that some programming languages allow you to pass arguments by reference,
which gives the receiving method the address of the original variable rather than a copy
of its value. The way this is accomplished differs among programming languages but
typically involves placing a special symbol or specified keyword within the parentheses
in the method header.
An Object-Oriented Approach to Programming Logic and Design, Fourth Edition 6-7
Explain that the declaration of the argument in the method header is similar to
Teaching the declaration of a data item variable in the class. It is different, however, in that
Tip the argument can only be used within the body of the method, and its value must
be supplied when the method is called. That is, a value is assigned to an
argument when the method is invoked, and the argument does not retain its value
once the method is finished executing.
1. Explain that a method can require more than one parameter. Describe how to create and
use a method with multiple parameters using the bulleted list on page 220.
2. Use Figure 6-8 on page 221 to illustrate a call to a computeTax() method using two
values: the amount to be taxed and a percentage by which to tax it. Step through the
program logic, emphasizing variable declarations and use. Use the discussion on pages
221–222 as a guide.
3. Stress that a method invocation with multiple arguments requires that the arguments
passed in match the method’s argument declaration in number, type, and order.
Teaching The arguments sent to a method in a method call are often referred to as actual
Tip parameters. The variables in a method declaration that accept values from the
actual parameters are called the formal parameters.
2. Explain that if a programmer wants to retain a value that exists in a method, the
programmer can send the value back to the calling method. To do this, the method must
have a return type. Explain that a return type could be numeric, character, or string, as
well as other types that exist in the programming language you are using.
3. Define a void method, and explain that a method type is indicated in front of the method
name when the method is defined.
A method with arguments and a non-void return type can be compared to a food
Teaching processor. You provide input (food) to the food processor, press a button to
Tip “execute” it, and the food processor returns something that is probably in a
different form than it was when you put it in! The food processor manipulated
the input and provided something in return.
An Object-Oriented Approach to Programming Logic and Design, Fourth Edition 6-8
4. Use Figure 6-9 on pages 224–225 to illustrate a method returning a value. Step through
the program logic, emphasizing the returning variables’ declarations and use. Use the
discussion on page 225 as a guide.
5. Mention that a method’s declared return type must match the type of the value used in
the return statement; if it does not, the program will not compile.
6. Note that a called method may return a value directly to the calling method without
storing it. Use Figure 6-10 on page 226 to illustrate an example of a main() method
that uses a method’s returned value in an arithmetic statement directly without storing
it.
8. Note the problem that exists in Figure 6-11. The problem involves a violation of
structured logic, requiring each structure to contain one entry point and one exit point
by leaving the decision structure before it is complete.
9. Use Figure 6-12 on page 228 to illustrate a solution to the problem in Figure 6-11. Step
through the program logic, noting that the largest value is stored in a variable. Then,
when the decision structure is complete, the stored value is returned.
2. Describe that instead of passing an array element, you can pass an entire array as an
argument. Explain that arrays are passed by reference and that changes made to the
array in the called method are permanently reflected in the array.
3. Review the program in Figure 6-13 on pages 230–231, which creates an array of four
numeric values and passes the array to methods three times. Use the bulleted list on
page 229 to talk through these three calls.
Quick Quiz 1
1. ____ are the data items sent to methods.
Answer: Arguments
3. True or False: A method’s arguments must be declared with the argument type before
the argument name.
Answer: True
5. When passing values to arguments in a method, the values must match the argument
declarations in which three ways?
Answer: number, type, and order
Overloading Methods
1. Describe what is meant by overloading.
3. Use Figure 6-15 on page 233 to show a method that prints a message and the amount
due on a customer bill. The method receives a numeric parameter that represents the
customer’s balance and prints two lines of output. A second version that receives two
parameters is also shown in the figure. Step through the two programs to illustrate
overloading.
4. Use Figure 6-16 on page 234 to show two more versions of the printBill method:
one that uses two arguments and one that uses three. Step through the logic in each.
An Object-Oriented Approach to Programming Logic and Design, Fourth Edition 6-10
5. Note that overloading a method is never required, but the advantage to the method’s
clients is that they need only keep track of a single method name rather than multiple
names.
1. Explain an ambiguous method and how overloading a method creates a risk of creating
ambiguous methods.
2. Use Figure 6-17 on pages 236–237 to illustrate a program that contains an ambiguous
method call. Step through the program, explaining that each of the two versions of
printBill() in Figure 6-17 is a valid method on its own. However, when the two
versions exist in the same class, the compiler cannot determine which version to
execute.
3. Stress that the compiler determines which version of a method to call based on
argument data types only, not their identifiers.
2. Explain that using predefined methods saves time and effort. Give the example of
methods that print “Hello” on the screen, using the statements on page 238.
4. Describe the three things a programmer needs to know when using predefined methods,
using the bulleted list on page 239.
Teaching Note that a programmer does not need to know how a built-in method is
Tip implemented—that is, how the instruction statements are written within it. Built-
in methods are usually black boxes. You can use built-in methods without
worrying about their low-level implementation details.
Quick Quiz 2
1. True or False: A programmer can pass a single array element to a method in exactly the
same manner as passing a variable or constant.
Answer: True
2. True or False: An entire array is too big and impossible to pass as a variable to a called
method.
Answer: False
3. When an item is ____ to a method, the method receives the actual memory address
item.
Answer: passed by reference
2. Discuss the concept of reusability and how to design for reusability. Have the students
consider the actions they take to complete a homework assignment in a specific course
and determine if any similar actions are taken to complete homework in another course.
For example, “open book” and “read book” are two activities that are probably common
to many homework assignments. Discuss how these activities could be represented as
generic, reusable methods with arguments.
Additional Projects
1. Have the student select an object-oriented language of his or her choice and research the
various specifics of variable definition and use within that language. Have the student
write a short report and present it to the class.
2. Have the student write the pseudocode and a flowchart diagramming the process of
calculating student grades at the end of the semester. Ask the student to focus on
incorporating a called method (or two) and consider the variable declarations for doing
this.
Additional Resources
1. Methods (C# Programming Guide):
http://msdn.microsoft.com/en-us/library/ms173114.aspx
Key Terms
Abstraction is the process of paying attention to important properties while ignoring
nonessential details.
Actual parameters are the arguments in a method call.
Ambiguous methods are overloaded methods for which the compiler cannot determine
which version to use.
Arguments are the data items sent to methods.
Calling or invoking a method causes it to execute.
Encapsulation is the feature of methods that provides for their instructions and data to
be contained in the method.
Formal parameters are the variables in the method declaration that accept the values
from the actual parameters.
Functional cohesion describes the extent to which a method’s statements contribute to
the same task.
Functional decomposition is the act of reducing a large program into more manageable
methods.
Global variables and constants are known to an entire class.
Implementation hiding is a principle of object-oriented programming that describes
the encapsulation of method details within a class.
In scope describes items that are visible in a method.
The interface to a method includes the method’s return type, name, and arguments.
The interface is the part that a client sees and uses.
Local describes data items that are usable only within the method in which they are
declared.
A method body contains all of the statements in a method.
The method declaration consists of the return type and signature of the method.
A method header is the first line of a method. It is the entry point to a method, and it
provides an identifier, parameter list, and frequently, other information.
A method’s client is a program or other method that uses the method.
A method’s return statement marks the end of the method and identifies the point at
which control returns to the calling method.
A method’s type is its return type.
Modularization is the process of converting a large program into a set of shorter
methods.
Modules are small program units that are combined to make programs. Programmers
also refer to modules as subroutines, procedures, functions, or methods.
Out of scope describes data items that are no longer visible to a method.
When you overload a method, you write multiple methods with a shared name but
different parameter lists.
Overloading involves supplying diverse meanings for a single identifier.
A parameter list is the list of parameters in a method header.
Parameters are the data items received by methods.
Passed by reference describes parameters received by a method as memory addresses.
Passed by value describes parameters received by a method as a copy.
An Object-Oriented Approach to Programming Logic and Design, Fourth Edition 6-14
IV
Three days later Leslie came home from the city with tidings on
his face, and he told them to his wife when they were alone that
night “Marsden's lawyer made an appointment after the funeral, and
I had an hour with him. He has asked me to be a trustee with
himself in Mrs. Marsden's settlement.”
“I'm so glad; you must accept, for it will be such a comfort to poor
Beatrice; but I thought Godfrey was her sole trustee.”
“So he was,” said Leslie grimly, “more's the pity, and he embezzled
every penny of the funds—gambled them away in card-playing
and... other ways.”
“Godfrey Harrison, Beatrice's brother?”
“Yes, her much-admired, accomplished, ill-used brother, the victim
of her husband's stinginess.”
“If that be true, then Godfrey is simply a...”
“You mean an unmitigated scoundrel. Quite so, Florence, and a
number of other words we won't go over. I tell you,” and Leslie
sprang to his feet, “there is some use in swearing; if it had not been
for one or two expressions that came to my memory suddenly to-
day, I should have been ill. Curious to say, the lawyer seemed to
enjoy them as much as myself, so it must be a bad case.”
“But I don't understand—if Godfrey spent Trixy's money, how is
there anything to manage? Did he pay it back?”
“No, he did not, and could not; he has not enough brains to earn
eighteen pence except by cheating, and if by any chance he came
into a fortune, would grudge his sister a pound.”
“Then...?”
“Don't you begin to catch a glimpse of the facts? Why, Marsden
toiled and scraped, and in the end, so the doctors say, killed himself
to replace the money, and he had just succeeded before his death.”
“How good of him! but I don't see the necessity of all this secrecy
on his part, and all those stories about low interest that he told
Trixy.”
“There was no necessity; if it had been some of us, we would
have let Mrs. Marsden know what kind of brother she had, and
ordered him out of the country on threat of jail.
“It was Marsden's foolishness, let us call it, to spare his wife the
disgrace of her idol and the loss of his company. So her husband
was despised beside this precious rascal every day.”
“Trixy will get a terrible shock when she is told; it would almost
have been kinder to let her know the truth before he died.”
“Mrs. Marsden is never to know,” said Leslie; “that was his wish;
she's just to be informed that new trustees have been appointed,
and we are to take care that she does not waste her income on the
fellow.
“People will send letters of condolence to Mrs. Marsden, but they
will say at afternoon teas that it must be a great relief to her, and
that it's quite beautiful to see her sorrow. In two years she will
marry some well-dressed fool, and they will live on Marsden's
money,” and Leslie's voice had an unusual bitterness.
“Did you ever hear of another case like this, John?”
“Never; when old Parchment described Marsden giving him the
instructions, he stopped suddenly.
“'Marsden,' he said, 'was the biggest fool I ever came across in the
course of forty-two years' practice,' and he went over to the
window.”
“And you?”
“I went to the fireplace; we were both so disgusted with the man
that we couldn't speak for five minutes.”
After a short while Mrs. Leslie said, “It appears to me that this
slow, uninteresting man, whom every one counted a bore, was in his
own way... almost a hero.”
“Or altogether,” replied John Leslie.
RIGHTEOUS OVER MUCH
I
H
ow do you do, Crashaw? didn't know you condescended to
conversaziones at the Town Hall, at least when there is no
dancing. Their Worships will be satisfied this evening, for the
whole world and his wife seem to be here, and some people
that have never been in the world before, one would judge.”
“There is just one person I wish particularly to see, and I can't
find her; that is Arkwright's young wife. I passed the old man
himself a minute ago, conversing with Peterson, and lecturing on the
effect of the American tariff on wool. Has he left her at home, Jack,
to keep her out of harm and to tantalise the public?”
“Not he. Jacob is quite proud of her, to do him justice, and
worships the ground on which she treads, although I doubt whether
she knows that or cares. Mrs. Arkwright is very beautiful In my
humble judgment, but there is a wide gulf between twenty-one and
seventy. Besides, she has a temper, and no sympathy with his
religious notions. When December weds May, it's bound to be either
a comedy or a tragedy, and this is half and between.”
“When you have quite finished your interesting moral reflections,
Jack, and can attend to practical detail, could you do me the
pleasure of pointing Mrs. Arkwright out to me, and, as you seem to
have seen a good deal of her, introducing your unworthy servant? I'll
be able then to judge for myself. We are obliged to Arkwright for
creating a piquant situation.”
“Come to the next room, where the band is playing; Mrs.
Arkwright was there ten minutes ago. But I don't know whether I
can intrude on her at the present moment, even although provided
with so good-looking and well-dressed an excuse. Yes; there,
Crashaw, in the alcove, talking to a parson, that is Jacob's wife. Was
I right?”
“Your taste, Jack, is perfect; but, indeed, a man who admires Mrs.
Arkwright deserves no credit; it is inevitable. There is prettiness, and
there is sweetness, and there is taking-ness, and they are very well,
but this is on another level.”
“I thought you would be astonished, and am pleased to notice
that even so blasé a critic of womankind can grow enthusiastic on
occasion. Isn't that a proud head?”
“Why, Jack, that woman ought to have been a duchess, and a
leader of society in town, instead of Mrs. Jacob Arkwright, wife of a
self-made wool-spinner and a deacon. Her face is the most complete
piece of Grecian beauty I ever saw—nose, eyes, chin, mouth,
perfect; forehead perhaps the slightest bit high—a Greek would have
worn a ribbon—and that glorious hair, brown shot with gold.”
“She is certainly looking splendid to-night Do you notice how she
has put the other women to confusion?”
“Simply a goddess among a lot of peasants. I say, Jack, how in
the world did that girl, with such a face and such an air, ever marry
Arkwright? Where was she hidden away? Had she no opportunity?
Talk about waste, this is an absolute sin. Do you know her history?”
“Lived with her mother, and got her living by teaching. Arkwright,
who has all his life been busy with wool and religious affairs, saw
her in chapel, and remembered he was human. Fell in love with her
on first sight, having lived scatheless unto threescore years and ten,
and got a fellow-deacon to negotiate the affair; at least, so it is
reported.”
“Most likely, I should say; but, Jack, what an abandoned criminal
that mother of hers must have been, and what did she herself do
this thing for? She has a will of her own, or else I do not know a
woman's face.”
“Oh, the old story. Her mother was proud and poor, and
considered Arkwright an excellent suitor. Mrs. Arkwright is not much
troubled about religion, and I fancy has a very different idea of
things from her husband, but she had the chance of a handsome
provision for herself and her mother, and she seized it There could
be no romance; but can you blame the old lady, Crashaw, urging
such a marriage, or the daughter escaping from the dreary
governess life?”
“No, I suppose not. The girl took the veil, and obtained a
settlement at the same time, after a sound Protestant fashion; but it
does seem a crime against nature to sacrifice a beautiful young
woman to a hard, bloodless old Puritan like Arkwright, who is, I
grant you, very able in wool, and perfectly straight in character, but
who is perfectly uncultured and hopelessly bigoted. What a life of
dreariness she must lead in the Arkwright circle!”
“Well, of course she can't attend concerts, nor dance, nor hunt,
nor go into society, but she has a good home, and a carriage, and as
much money as she can spend. I don't suppose that she cares for
Jacob, but she does her duty as a wife, and does not seem
unhappy.”
“Certainly Mrs. Arkwright is not unhappy this evening with her
present companion. I will hazard the guess, Jack, without any
reflection on her wifely character, that she never looked at her
worthy, but not very attractive, husband with the same interest
which she is bestowing on that handsome parson. Who is he, Jack?”
“Egerton's his name, and he's Arkwright's minister—a
Congregationalism or Baptist; I can never remember the difference.
He is a very able fellow, they say, and a rattling good preacher, quite
broad and liberal in his views, but a perfect ascetic in his life. He
must be very much in Mrs. Arkwright's company, and he's certainly
the decentest man she knows.”
“Arkwright is about seventy, and is not so strong as he looks, Jack;
his wife will have time to console herself, and her second husband
will be a very lucky man, for he will have a fortune and her heart.”
II
“You have come quickly, Mr. Egerton, and that was well done,”
said Jacob Arkwright, looking very white and worn, propped up with
pillows. “I have much to say, and I'll take a sup o' brandy; them that
never touches drink when they're well get the good when they're ill.
“That gives me the strength I need for the time, and ma work is
nearly done. Don't go away, Laura; I want you to hear what I say to
the pastor.
“The doctor says 'at ma days are few, mayhap only to-morrow,
and it's best to speak when a man's head is clear, and I thank God
mine is that, though my body be weakened by this sickness.”
His wife stood on one side of the bed, now and then rearranging
the pillows at his back and bathing his forehead with vinegar—for
scent he would not have—and Egerton stood on the other, refusing
to sit down while she stood, and watching her strong white hands at
their service, but only once did he look her straight in the face.
“You're young, Pastor—thirty, did ye say?—and I'm owd, seventy-
two this month, and I havena' known you long, but there's no mon
I've liked better or could trust more.” And he looked steadily at
Egerton with a certain softening of expression.
“You've been very kind to me and to the chapel, Mr. Arkwright,
and I hope it may be God's will to spare you and raise you up again,”
and although the words were formal, the accent was tender and
moving.
“No, no, lad; our times are in His hand, and I have received the
summons, and so we 'ill go to business. And first about ma affairs. I
wish ye to understand everything, that ye may be able to do your
duty by ma widow.”
Egerton was conscious that Mrs. Arkwright straightened herself,
and could feel the silence in the room; but the dying man was not
one to appreciate an atmosphere.
“It may be that I was too owd for marrying, and ma ways too old-
fashioned. Ma house has no been very bright for a young wife, and
ma conscience did not allow me liberty in worldly amusements. But
according to my nature I can say before God that I loved ye, Laura,
and have tried to do ma part by ye.”
“You married me a poor girl, and have been most... kind to me,
Jacob. Why speak of such things?” and her voice was proud and
pained.
“You have been a faithful wife to me,” he went on, as one fulfilling
a plan, “and have put up with my... peculiarities—for I know you do
not think wi' me in things, and do not like some of the men 'at came
to the house. Oh, I said nowt, but I saw aal.”
Mrs. Arkwright laid her hand on her husband's, and it occurred to
Egerton from a slight flush on his face that she had never done this
before.
“Ma will has been made for a year”—it was plain that Mr.
Arkwright was to go on to the end, and Egerton could not have lifted
his eyes for a ransom—“and I have left aal to my wife without any
condition, with just one legacy. It is to you, Egerton, and I hope
you'ill not refuse it—just something to remind you of me, and... get
you books.”
“It was very... good of you, sir, and I am most... grateful, but I...
really can't accept your kindness. It is not likely that I will ever
marry, and I've got enough for myself.”
As he spoke, Mrs. Arkwright shook up the pillows hastily, and went
to a side table for a glass.
“Well, if you will not, then there's an end of it; but you will grant
me another favour which may be harder,” and for a minute Arkwright
seemed to hesitate.
“Ma wife will be left young and rich, and although I have never
said it to you, ma lass, she is... beautiful.”
“Jacob, this is not seemly.” Her voice was vibrant with passion.
“Blame me not for saying this once, and if another be present, he
is our friend, and I am coming to my point; the brandy again, and I'll
soon be done.
“You have no brother, and I have no person of my blood to guide
you, ma lass; ye might be persecuted by men 'at would bring you
nowt but trouble and vexation of heart You need an honest man to
be your guardian and give you advice.
“Ye may never want to marry again, for I doubt ye have had little
joy these years, or again ye may, to taste some joy, and I would
count it unjust to hinder you—peace, lass, till I be done; I was ever
rough and plain—and some one must see that your husband be a
right mon.
“So I turned it over in ma mind, and I sought for a friend 'at was
sound o' heart and faithful. This speaking is hard on me, but it 'ill
soon be done.” And as Mrs. Arkwright stooped to give him brandy
once more, Egerton saw that her cheeks were burning.
“An older mon might have been better, but ye're old for your
years, Pastor, and have parted wi' the foolishness o' youth. You have
some notions I don't hold with, for I'm the owd sort—believe and be
saved, believe not and be damned—but ye're no a mon to say yea
and do nay. Naa, naa, I have seen more than I said; and though
some 'at came to the house had the true doctrine, they were shoddy
stuff.
“George Egerton, as I have done good to you and not ill these
years, will ye count Laura Arkwright as your sister, and do to her a
brother's part, as ye will answer to God at the laast day?”
The wind lifted the blind and rustled in the curtains; the dying
man breathed heavily, and waited for an answer. Egerton looked
across the bed, but Mrs. Arkwright had withdrawn behind the
curtain. Arkwright's eyes met the minister's with an earnest,
searching glance.
“I will be as a brother to your wife while I live.”
As he spoke, Arkwright grasped his hand and gave a sigh of
content; but when Egerton left the room, Laura refused to touch his
hand, and her face was blazing with anger.
III
“You have been very generous to the chapel, and we thank you
very much for keeping up all Mr. Arkwright's subscriptions those
three years. The work of God would have been much crippled had it
not been for your liberality.”
“Do you know, Mr. Egerton, that when you talk in that grave,
approving fashion, as if I were one of your devout women like poor
Mrs. Tootle, who is really a good creature, although her husband is a
sanctimonious idiot, I feel a perfect hypocrite.”
“Why do you always depreciate yourself...”
“Do not interrupt me, for I am determined to settle this matter
once for all, and not walk about in a vain show, as if I were a saint
You think me good, and so do the chapel people, I suppose, because
I give to foreign missions and Bible-women, and go to the prayer-
meeting, and attend the special meetings. Do you know why I do
those things?”
“Yes, I think so,” said the minister; “but I will hear your reason.”
“Because Mr. Arkwright believed in missions and evangelists, and
he was... a better husband to me than I was wife to him, and
because it would be dishonourable not to use his money for the
objects he approved.”
“And the services? Is that the reason you are always present, and
set such a good example?” And it was plain the minister did not take
Mrs. Arkwright at her value of herself.
“Oh, this is because... because...”
“Yes?” And Mr. Egerton smiled as one who is giving checkmate.
“Because you were Jacob's friend, and the only man he... loved,
and because, although we have quarrelled several times, and I have
been very rude to you once or twice, still”—and a smile brought Mrs.
Arkwright's face to perfection—“we are friends also.”
“You have been... angry with me,” said Egerton, “when I could not
understand the reason, but I never doubted your friendship. If I
were in serious trouble, I would come to you rather than to any
man.”
“Would you really?” Then her tone changed.
“I don't believe you, for you would go to some snuffy, maundering
old minister.”
“And you are good,” he insisted, taking no notice of her petulance.
“You are honest, and brave, and high-minded, and loyal, and...”
“Pious, with a gift of prayer, you had better add. How blind you
are, for all your knowledge and... other qualities. You forgot to add
sweet-tempered; but perhaps you were coming to that.”
“No, I would not say that, and I am rather glad you are not
gentle,”—the minister was very bold,—“for you would not be...
yourself.”
“You had your suspicions, then, and are not sure that I am ready
for canonising? Do you know I feel immensely relieved; suppose we
celebrate this confession by tea? Would you ring the bell, Mr.
Egerton?”
“There is something I want to talk about, and as it's rather
important, would you mind, Mrs. Arkwright, giving me a few minutes
first? Tea is rather distracting.”
“Composing, I find it—but as you please; is it the District Visitors,
or the Nurses' Home, or the Children's Holiday, and is it money?”
Mrs. Arkwright for some reason was very gracious.
“No, it has nothing to do with the chapel. I wish to speak about...
yourself.”
“Yes?” and she looked curiously at him.
“You remember that day when Mr. Arkwright committed you to my
care, and I gave my word to..
“Do your best to look after a very troublesome woman,” Mrs.
Arkwright interposed hurriedly; “it was a... risky task, and I thought
you were far too hasty, and just a little presumptuous, in
undertaking it, but you've been a very lenient guardian for your age.
Have I done anything wrong?”
“No, and you could not at any time in my eyes,”—Mrs. Arkwright
made as though she would curtsey,—“but others might do wrong to
you, and I have been anxious for some time.
“Mr. Arkwright was afraid lest some unworthy man should admire
you or desire your wealth, and... marry you, and your life be
miserable. And he wished me to save you from this, and I promised
to do my best.”
“Well?” and her voice had begun to freeze. “I remember all that.”
“It is difficult to speak about such things, but you know that I...
would do anything to save you pain....”
“Go on,” and now her eyes were fixed on the minister.
“It came to my ears and I saw for myself that one whom I knew
slightly and did not like was paying you attentions, and it might be,
as I also heard, was favoured by you. So it seemed my duty to make
enquiries about Mr. Crashaw.”
“And?”
“There is nothing against his character, and I have heard much
good of him—that he has cultured tastes and is very well liked by
those who know him; personally we could never be friends, for
various reasons, but he... is not unworthy to be the husband of... a
good woman. That is all I have to say”; and the saying of it was
plainly very hard to the minister.
“You recommend me to marry Mr. Crashaw, if that gentleman
should do me the honour to ask my hand, or do you propose to
suggest this step to him, so as to complete your duty as guardian?”
Mrs. Arkwright was now standing and regarding Egerton with fierce
scorn.
“My information seemed to me reliable”—he was also standing,
white and pained—“and I thought it would help you in that case to
know what I have told you, when you came to decide.”
“If I knew who told you such falsehoods, I would never speak to
them again, and I would make them suffer for their words. Mr.
Crashaw! and it was to that cynical, worldly, supercilious tailor's
block you were to marry me. What ill have I done you?”
“God knows I did not desire.... I mean... do you not see that I
tried to do what was right at a cost?... Why be so angry with me?”
“Because I do not really care what any person in this town or all
Yorkshire says about me, but I do care and cannot endure that you
should turn against me, and be content to see me Crashaw's wife or
any other man's.” And she drove the minister across the room in her
wrath—he had never seen her so beautiful—till he stood with his
back to the door, and she before him as a lioness robbed of her
cubs.
“It has been my mistake, for I understand not women,” he said,
with proud humility. “I beg your pardon, and am more than ever...
your servant.”
She looked at him stormily for ten seconds; then she turned away.
“If that is all you have to say, you need not come again to this
house.”
IV
“You will excuse me sending a verbal message by the doctor, for,
as you see, I am past writing, and... the time is short I wanted to
speak with you, Mrs. Arkwright, once before... I died.” And Egerton
thought of the day she had stood by her husband's deathbed as now
she stood by his, only that the nurse had left the room and there
was no third person to be an embarrassment “Do not suppose I
forget your words to me the last time we met in private,” he
continued, as she did not speak nor look at him, beyond one swift
glance as she came into the room; “and believe me, I would not
have forced myself on you, nor would I have asked this favour, had
it not been that... I have something of which I must deliver my soul.”
“You are not dying; you were a strong man, and a few days'
illness couldn't... be fatal,” she burst out, and it seemed as if Mrs.
Arkwright for once was going to lose control and fall a-weeping.
Then she mastered herself, and said almost coldly, “Had I known
you were so ill, I would have called to inquire; but nothing was said
of pneumonia, only a bad cold.”
“You forgive me, then, that ill-judged interference, Mrs. Arkwright,
and anything else in which I have offended you or failed in... my
brother's part?”
“Do not speak like that to me unless you wish to take revenge; it
is I who ask your pardon for my evil temper and insolence that day,
and other times; but you are too... good, else you would have
understood.”
“You did not, then, hate me, as I supposed?” and his voice was
strained with eagerness.
“When you were prepared to approve my engagement to Mr.
Crashaw? Yes, I did, and I could have struck you as you bore
witness to his character—whom you detested. Conscientious and
unselfish... on your part, very. And yet at the same time I... did not
hate you; I could have... you are a dull man, Mr. Egerton, and I am
not a saint. Is it milk you drink?” And when she raised his head, her
hands lingered as they had not done before on her husband's.
“Are you really dying?” She sat down and looked at him, her head
between her hands. “You and I are, at least, able to face the
situation.”
“Yes, without doubt; but I am not a martyr to overwork, or
anything else; my death is not a sentimental tragedy; do not let any
one speak of me in that fashion: I simply caught a cold and did not
take care; it's quite commonplace.” When he smiled his face was at
its best, the dark blue eyes having a roguish look as of a boy.
Mrs. Arkwright leant back on her chair and bit her lower lip.
“This is good-bye, then, and our friendship—six years long, isn't
it?—is over. Had I known it was to be so short—well, we had not
quarrelled.”
“Not over,” and he looked wistfully at her; “this life does not end
all.”
“Ah, you have the old romantic faith, and one would like to share
it, but no one knows; this life is the only certainty.”
“In a few hours,” he went on, “I shall know, and I expect to see
my friend Jacob Arkwright, whom I loved, although we only knew
one another for three years, and he... will ask for you.” Mrs.
Arkwright regarded Egerton with amazement.
“He will ask how I kept my trust, and I... will be ashamed, unless
you hear my confession and forgive me. For I... have sinned against
you and your husband.”
“In what?” she asked, with a hard voice.
“God knows that I had no thought of you he might not have read
while he was here. And afterwards for a year I was in heart your
brother; and then—oh, how can I say it and look you in the face,
who thought me a good and faithful minister of Christ?” and his eyes
were large with pain and sorrow.
“Say it,” she whispered, “say it plain; you must,” and she stretched
out her hand in commandment.
“I loved you as... a man loves a woman whom he would make his
wife, till it came to pass that I made excuses to visit you, till I
watched you on the street, till I longed for the touch of your hand,
till I... oh, the sin and shame—thought of you in the service and... at
my prayers; yet I had been left your guardian and had promised to
be as a brother to you; besides, nor was this the least of my shame,
you were rich.”
“And now?” She had risen to her feet “I have finally overcome, but
only within these few months, and my heart is at last single. You are
to me again my friend's wife, and I shall meet him... in peace, if you
forgive me.”
For a few seconds nothing was heard but his rapid breathing, and
then she spoke with low, passionate voice.
“Your love needs no forgiveness; your silence... I can never
forgive.”
He lived for two hours, and he spoke twice. Once he thanked his
nurse for her attentions, and just before he passed away she caught
the words, “through much tribulation... enter the Kingdom... God.”
A PROBATIONER
O
ne winter I forsook the cottage at Drumtochty, in spite of the
pure white snow and the snell, bracing wind from Ben
Urtach, and took rooms in Edinburgh. It was a poor
exchange, for the talk of professors and advocates, although
good enough in its way, was not to be compared with the wisdom of
James Soutar; but there were more books in Edinburgh than in the
Glen, and it was there that I met my probationer. From time to time
we passed upon the stair, when he would shrink into a landing and
apologise for his obstruction, and if in sheer forgetfulness I said
“Fine day,” with the rain beating on the windows, he nervously
agreed. With his suspicion of clerical attire, and his deferential
manner, he suggested some helot of the ecclesiastical world, whose
chiefs live in purple and fine linen, and whose subordinates share
with tramway men and sempstresses the honour of working harder
and receiving less pay than any other body in the commonwealth. By
his step I had identified him as the tenant of a single room above
my sitting-room, and one wondered how any man could move so
little and so gently. If he shifted a chair, it was by stealth, and if in
poking his fire a coal dropped on the hearth, he abandoned the
audacious attempt.
One grew so accustomed to these mouse-like movements that it
came as a shock when my neighbour burst into activity. It was on a
Friday afternoon that he seemed to be rearranging his furniture so
as to leave a clear passage from end to end of the room, and then,
after he had adjusted the chairs and table to his satisfaction, he
began a wonderful exercise. Sometimes he would pace swiftly
backwards and forwards with a murmuring sound as one repeating
passages by rote, with occasional sudden pauses, when he refreshed
his memory from some quarter. Sometimes he stood before the table
and spoke aloud, rising to a pitch, when one could catch a word or
two, and then he would strike a book, quite fiercely for him, and
once or twice he stamped his foot almost as hard as a child could.
After this outbreak he would rest a while, and then begin again on
the lower key, and one knew when he reached the height by the
refrain, “Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus.” It was an amazing
development, and stimulated thought.
“No,” explained our excellent landlady, “he's no daft, though ye
micht think sae. He's a minister without a kirk, an' he's juist learnin'
his sermon; but, Losh keep us, he's by ordinar' the day.
“He's my cousin's son, ye see”—and Mrs. Macfarlane settled to
historical detail—“an' his mother's a weedow. She focht to get him
through St. Andrew's, an' hoo she managed passes me. Noo he's
what is called a probationer, an', eh, but he earns his livin' hard.
“His business,” continued Mrs. Macfarlane, “is to tak' the pulpit
when a minister is awa' at a Sacrament or on his holiday, and any
Sabbath he micht be at Peterhead and the next at Wigtown. He gets
his orders on Friday, an' he sets aff wi' his bit bag on Saturday, an' a
weary body he is on Monday nicht An' it's little he maks for a' he
does, bare twenty shillin' a week clear; but naebody can stand this
colie-shangie, (disturbance).” For above the landlady's exposition
rose the probationer's voice: “Abana and Pharpar, rivers of
Damascus.”
What she said to her cousin once removed I know not, but it was
not in vain, for in the evening this was brought by the servant:—
“Dear Sir,—
“It affords me sincere regret to learn that you have been disturbed
in the midst of your literary avocations by sounds and movements
emanating from my room. They are unfortunately and unavoidably
connected with a new method of professional work which I have
been advised to adopt by experienced friends. It would, however, be
unrighteous that one man should hinder another in his daily labour,
and I would be greatly obliged if you could indicate any time of
absence during which I might be free to speak aloud and move with
energy in my chamber without offence. Apologising for my unwitting
annoyance,
“I am,
“Yours respectfully,
“Hiram Clunas.”
It was written on poor paper and a single sheet, but the
handwriting was that of a scholar, a man accustomed to form
Hebrew and Greek characters, and the very flavour of pedantry was
attractive, so that one wanted to know the writer, and I seized the
excuse of a personal answer.
He was quite unprepared for my coming, and upset a Hebrew
lexicon and four German books on the Prophets before he could get
a chair in his single room below the slates; nor had he any small talk
to offer, but he was ready enough to speak about his own work, and
seemed anxious to explain his recent departure. It also occurred to
me that he wanted my judgment.
“My work, let me explain,” he said, hesitatingly, “is not pastoral
or... devoted to a particular sphere, since my gifts have not yet...
commended themselves to a congregation after such a fashion that
they were inclined to... in short, wished to have me as their minister.
Mine is a vagum ministerium. I am what is called a probationer, that
is, I have been duly educated in profane and sacred learning for the
holy ministry, and have passed certain examinations... without
discredit.”
“Of that I am sure,” I interpolated with sincerity, whereat the
probationer ought to have bowed and replied, “It is very good of you
to say so,” but as it was he only blushed and looked as if he had
been caught boasting.
“And then?” I suggested.
“It remains to discover whether I am... fit for the practical work of
my calling—if it be, indeed, I am called at all.. And here the little
man came to a halt.
“You are examined again,” I inquired, tentatively, “or placed under
a chief for a little?”
“Well, no, although the latter would be an excellent way—but it is
not for me to criticise the rules of my Church; if any congregation
has lost its minister, then such as I, that is, persons in a state of
probation, are sent each Sabbath to... preach, and then the people
choose the one who... And again Mr. Clunas came to a stand for
want of fitting words.
“Who comes out first in the preaching competition,” I added, and
in an instant was sorry.
“It would ill become me to put the matter... in such a form, and if
I have done so it has been an inadvertence, and indeed I did not
mean to complain, but rather to explain the reason of... the noise.”
“Please tell me whatever you please, but it was not noise, for I
heard some words...
“The rivers of Damascus? I feared so, sir; that was the climax or
point of repetition—but I will relate the matter in order, with your
permission.
“It has been my habit, after I have duly examined a passage in
the original language and the light of competent scholars, and
verified its lessons by my own reason and conscience—collected the
raw material, if I may so say—to commit the same to writing
according to my ability, using language that can be understood of
the people, and yet conforming as far as may be to the Elizabethan
standard.”
In my opinion, I indicated, he had done well. “I judged that I
would have your approval so far, but hereafter comes in a grave
question of expediency, on which I should like your mind as a
neutral person and one given to literary pursuits. My habit is further
to read to the people what I have written in a clear voice, and with
such animation as is natural to me, in the faith that whatsoever may
have been given me by the Spirit of Truth may be witnessed to the
hearers by the same Spirit.”
This appeared to me a very reasonable method and a just hope.
“Others, however, acting according to their nature, commit their
message to memory, and deliver it to the people with many lively
and engaging gestures, which pleases the people and wins their
hearts.”
“And so the groundlings prefer the windbags,” I interrupted, “and
elect them to be their minister.”
“It is not so that I wished you to infer,” and the probationer's voice
was full of reproof, “for I trust my desire is not to obtain a church,
but the confirmation of my calling through the voice of the people;
yet who knoweth his heart?” And the probationer was much
distressed.
It was only my foolish thought, I hastened to explain, and
besought him to continue.
“A friend of... much shrewdness and, I am sure, of good intention,
has spoken to me at length on my... want of favour with the people,
and has pointed out that the Word must be placed before them after
a winsome fashion.”
“And so?”
“He urged me to choose texts which could be frequently repeated
with effect, and so lodge their idea in the mind of the people, and
that I should not use any manuscript, but should employ certain arts
of oratory, such as beginning low and raising the voice up to a
climax where it would be good to repeat the text with emphasis.
“As an example and... inducement he dwelt upon the case of one
probationer who had taken for his text, 'And there shall be no more
sea,' whereon he composed a single sermon, to which he devoted
much pains. This he delivered daily for some hours in his chamber,
and at the end of each paragraph said in a loud voice, 'And there
shall be no more sea.' He was elected to three churches within a
short space,” concluded Mr. Clunas.
“You have therefore thought it desirable to amend your habit.”
“Well, so far,” and the probationer was much embarrassed, “it was
impossible for me to handle what my adviser called 'repeaters,' such
as that I have mentioned, for my mind does not incline to them; but
as I had been labouring the tendency to prefer meretricious and
sensational religion to that which is austere and pure from the text,
'Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the
waters of Israel? * it seemed to me that I might for once... make
trial... that is, use the words Abana and Pharpar as a symbol to... fix
the truth, as it were. It is very laborious and... not grateful to me.
Do you think that... I am doing right?” and my probationer fixed me
with an anxious eye.
“Quite so, sir, I understand perfectly,” as I was making a
blundering effort to suggest that Providence hardly intended that my
probationer should go round the country like a showman with
“repeaters.”
“You have confirmed my own idea and... delivered my feet from
falling, for I had come nearly to unreality in a holy thing, besides
ridding me from an irksome task,” and he regarded the sheets—the
“rivers” standing out in half text—with strong dislike.
“There is another matter,” he continued, “on which I would fain
have your mind, since you have shown so much sympathy. It is now,
I regret to say, the custom for a person in my position, that is, on
probation, to print a number of certificates from influential persons
and send them to... the authorities in a vacant church. This I have
refused to do; but there is a special reason why I strongly desire to
be settled... not quite unworthy, I hope,” and a faint flush came to
the probationer's face.
“I understand”—for it was natural to suppose that he was
engaged, as many in his circumstances are, which grows into a
pathetic tragedy as a girl waits for long years till her betrothed is
approved in his work and can offer her a home—“and you have got
your certificates.”
“A few, and it may be that I could secure more; here is one
which... I value deeply... count above gold. It's from Prof. Carphin;
you know what he has done, of course.
“Hebrew scholar”—the probationer rose from his chair and paced
the floor—“that is inadequate, quite inadequate; there are many
Hebrew scholars, thank God, but Prof. Carphin has gone deeper.
Why, sir, he has made a race of scholars, and changed the face of
theological thought in Scotland; he is the modern Erasmus of our
land,” and the probationer was very warm.
“This is what he has written of me, and it is superfluous to say
that from such a man this testimony is the highest praise; I ought
hardly to show such words, but you will not misjudge me.”
“I beg to certify that Mr. Hiram Clunas, Master of Arts and
Bachelor of Divinity, late Fellow of this College, is in my judgment
fully competent to expound the Hebrew Scriptures after an accurate
and spiritual fashion to any body of intelligent people.
“Zechariah Carphin,
“D.D., LL.D.
“Calvin College, Edinburgh.”
“Pardon me, it is my foolishness, but you notice 'fully'; this
extremity of language is, I need not say, undeserved, but that Dr.
Carphin should have written it is... a compensation for many little
disappointments,” and the probationer's voice trembled.
“No, it will not be of material service in the way of gaining me a
hearing, for it is a... moral disgrace to my Church that the word of
this eminent man carries little weight with... committees and such
like, and that many people in this University city do not know his
face when he walks along Princes Street.
“This is from another kind of man, who is very... acceptable as a
preacher, and has much influence... in vacancies; it was an
indiscretion, I fear, to have asked him for... a certificate, as he has
only seen me once; but when one is pressed he is not always wise.”
“I have had the pleasure of knowing the Rev. Hiram Clunas for a
considerable time, and have much satisfaction in recommending him
to the favourable consideration of selection committees of vacant
congregations, He is a ripe scholar, a profound divine, an eloquent
preacher, a faithful pastor, an experienced Christian, with an
attractive and popular manner, and general knowledge of a varied
and rich character. Any congregation securing Mr. Clunas is certain to
increase both in number and finance, and I anticipate for this
talented young minister a future of remarkable and rapid success.
“MacDuff MacLeear, D.D.”
“Yes, it is a curious name, and I believe was, so to say, adopted.
Originally he was James MacLeear—MacLeear is his own—and some
years ago he inserted MacDuff, I am credibly informed, and now he
has dropped his Christian name.
“The reason for the change, it is understood, is for purposes of
advertisement in the public prints, where, I am informed, ordinary
names such as James or John are less... striking, so that preachers
who desire to appeal to the people use two surnames, as it were; it
seems to me doubtful in ethics, but one must not be ready to judge
his neighbour in such straits.
“No, his degree is not from a Scots University, but from a seat of
learning in a Western State of America—Auroraville, I think it is
called, but I am not sure. Yes, he wrote a little book on the Maidens
of the Bible of a popular cast.
“You agree with me that no one could use such a testimony with...
self-respect, and I have resolved to print no certificates or make any
personal appeal; but I do not regret the effort I made, for it has
gained me the Professor's letter,” and the probationer folded up the
letter carefully and placed it in his desk.
“I fear that you must think me charged with vain ambition, but... it
is not for my own sake.”
From time to time we spent an hour together, and he told me of
his journeys, many and toilsome.
“Of course I am not sent to supply in cities, for they require men
of greater... experience; my allotment is always in the country, and I
like that better.
“When my station comes near I begin to look out of the window
and see whether the district is level or hilly—for though climbing
tries one a little, one has a fair view to refresh the soul, and I like
woods because of the mystery and the rustling of the leaves.
“Sometimes a farmer will meet me with a dogcart—and there are
no men so kind as farmers—but mostly I walk, and that is nothing
unless the distance be far and it be raining heavily. No, it may be a
weakness of the flesh, but I do not like a night walk, and yet to see
the squares of light in the cottage windows, flashing across a glen or
breaking out of a wood, is very pleasing.”
One snowy morning in February he came into my room in evident
excitement, with a letter in his hand.
“You have taken such an interest in my affairs that I thought you
would like to know... I have received a letter informing me that I am
on the short leet for Tilliegask... just two, and I am one... and I am
to preach next Sabbath... and the farmer with whom I stayed has
sent a very encouraging letter.”
During the week the probationer was much tried on a question of
conscience, whether he ought to act on a suggestion of his friend at
Tilliegask.
“It happens,” he explained to me, “that the people at Tilliegask are
very conservative in their views of the Bible, while, as you are
aware, I have been led to accept certain modern conclusions
regarding the history of the books, and my good friend desires that I
should... make no allusion to them in my discourse.
“Now,” went on the probationer, “it was not my intention to do so,
but after this advice am I not bound in conscience to indicate, simply
to indicate, my position, that they may not be deceived, and that I
may not obtain a church by guile?” And he read to me the sentence,
which I make no doubt no one understood, but which was to Mr.
Clunas a great relief. He came home from Tilliegask in high spirits,
and speculated every evening on his chances as against the other
man who was to preach on Sabbath.
“No, he was not what you would call a scholar,” and then the
probationer laughed aloud—a rare occurrence; “well, it was a
translation in the Latin class; he rendered adhuc juvenis as 'a still
youth,' which was much tasted, and others, too, as remarkable; but
it is not generous to remember such... failings.”
The good man was indeed so distressed by this disparaging
allusion to his rival that he searched his heart for the sins of pride
and jealousy, which with envy and worldliness, he confessed to me,
constantly beset him. He also impressed upon me that although Mr.
Tosh might not be a scholar in the academic sense, yet he had such
gifts of speech that he would be an excellent minister for Tilliegask if
the choice of that secluded place should fall on Tosh. But the
probationer waited anxiously for the first post on Tuesday, which
would give the result, and I was only less anxious.
When he did not come down with tidings, and only the faintest
sound came from his room as of a chair occasionally shifted before
the fire, I went up, and found my friend very low and two open
letters on the table.
“It has not been... God's will,” and he signed that I should read
the letters. One was from the ecclesiastical functionary who presides
over elections and church courts, and who is called by the
suggestive name of “moderator”; that the vote had been fifty-two
for Mr. Clunas and ninety-three for Mr. Tosh; that Mr. Tosh had been
elected; that on his, the moderator's appeal, the minority had “fallen
in”; that he, the moderator, was sure that Mr. Clunas would be
pleased to know that his supporters had shown so good a spirit, and
that there was no doubt that the Great Head of the Church had
something in store for His servant; and that in the event of Mr.
Clunas applying in another vacancy he, the moderator, would be
willing to give him a strong certificate as to the impression he, Mr.
Clunas, had produced on the congregation of Tilliegask. The second
letter was from Wester Tilliegask, my friend's host, who was full of
genuine regret that Mr. Clunas had not won the poll, who explained
that up to Sabbath his chance was excellent, but that Mr. Tosh had
carried all before him by a sermon on “A Rainbow round about the
Throne,” with very fetching illustrations and quotations—Mr. Tosh
had also won several votes by shaking hands with the people at the
door, and ingeniously giving it to be understood that his idea of
pastoral duty was to visit his congregation four times a year; that,
notwithstanding all these Tosh attractions, he, Wester Tilliegask,
would have preferred Mr. Clunas; and that as there was a rumour
that the minister of Ballengeich would soon need a colleague, he
would arrange through his, Wester Tilliegask's, wife's brother that
Mr. Clunas should have a hearing. He added that a certificate from
MacDuff MacLeear, placing Mr. Tosh a little lower than St Paul, had
told.
The probationer was very brave and generous, blaming no one,
and acknowledging that Tosh would be a more suitable man for
Tilliegask, but it was evident he was hardly hit.
“It was not to escape the unrest of this life,” he said, “nor for the
position, nor even for the sanction of my work; it was for the sake of
one who... has waited long to see me an ordained minister. She may
not... be spared much longer; my mother is now nearly seventy.” So
it was no sweetheart, but his mother of whom he thought.
“If I had been elected, I had purposed to start this forenoon and
carry the news myself, and I imagined the scene. I never could
reach the cottage unseen, for there is a window in the gable which
commands the road, so that mother is ever waiting at the garden
gate for me.
“Do not count me foolish, but I was to pretend that I had just
come to visit her for a day, and then ask her how she would like to
leave the cottage and live in a manse.
“By this time she would jalouse something—'tis her word—but I
would tell nothing, only expatiate on the manse and her room in it,
and... and... she would suddenly throw her arms round my neck....
Excuse me, sir; I will come down in the evening, if you please.”
Before evening he was hurrying down to the cottage, for after all
he had to go to his mother, and when he came back next Monday
she was dead and buried.
“Your sympathy is very grateful,” as we sat together, “and it helps
me, but I think my heart is... broken; although I had to live in
Edinburgh in order to accomplish my railway journeys, and we only
saw one another at intervals, we were all in all to one another....
“There were things passed between us I cannot tell, for it seems
to me that a mother's death-bed is a holy place; but she knew that I
had lost Tilliegask, and... she was not cast down, as I was for her
sake.
“'Dinna lose heart, Hiram,' she said, her hand in mine, 'for my
faith will be justified; when I gave ye to the Lord the day your father
died I was sure, a' through the fecht o' education I was sure, an'
when you got your honours I was sure, an' when you got no kirk I
was still as sure, and now my eyes are clear, an' I see that God has
savit you for a work that hath not entered into my heart,' and she
blessed me....”
From that day he began to fail, and although he struggled to fulfil
preaching engagements, he had at last to give up public work. But
he toiled harder than ever at the Semitic languages.
“It is not that I am deceiving myself with vain hopes,” he
explained to me one day, “for I know full well that I am dying, but it
seemeth good that whatsoever talent I have should be cultivated to
the end.
“The future life is veiled, and speculation is vain, but language
must be used, and they who have mastered the ancient roots will be
of some service; it is all I can offer, and I must give of my best.”
The morning he died I looked over his few affairs and balanced his
accounts, which were kept in a small pass-book, his poor fees on
one side and his slender expenses on the other to a halfpenny.
“The expenditure may seem heavy the last few journeys, but my
strength failed by the way, and I was unable to walk to my
destination, but there may still be enough at the end of the week for
what has to be done.
“There will be £9 15s. 6d. when all is paid.
“With the sale of my books it will suffice, for I have carefully
enquired, to buy a grave and defray the cost of burial. It is not
possible to be buried beside my mother, for our ground is full, so let
me lie where the sun is shining on the Grange Cemetery.”
Soon after his mind wandered, and I gathered he was in the
vestry of Tilliegask Kirk.
“Lord, be merciful to me and remember my infirmities... deliver
Thy servant from the fear of man and all doubleness of heart... give
me grace to declare Thy truth and to set Thee before me... bless my
mother and hear her prayers....”
After a little while he began to preach, but we could make nothing
of the words till he suddenly stopped and raised himself in the bed.
“Thou, Lord,” he cried, with great astonishment, “hearing me...
Forgive... I am not worthy to declare Thy Gospel....” What was said
by the Master none of us heard, but the astonishment passed into
joy, and the light thereof still touched and made beautiful his face as
the probationer fell on sleep.
It was a spring day when we laid his body to rest, and any one
who cares can find his grave because a weeping willow hangs over
it, and this is the inscription on the stone:
Hiram Clunas,
Probationer.
“It is a very small thing that I should be judged of man's
judgment.”
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