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mony a time. Sic marriages hae been marriage ?" demanded Jeannie triumgoing out o' fashion amang gentlefolks phantly. My granny minds o' it sair for mair than ae generation. But I hae fracaw aboot a wicket yerl whom naething seen a wheen ploughman billies, after a would serve but that his genty * bit dochhiring market, the warse o drink for the ter should marry as auld an' grand an' maist part, and as mony tawpies o' field wicket a sinner as hissel. Her true love workers — bondagers, folk ca’ them here would na see the shamefu' sacrifice, sae he - and servant lasses, gang afore auld up and fed wi' the lass. He was a sailor Fernie who had learned the trade when it or a sodger lad - ane o' the twa, I forget was flourishin', and still wasna unwillin' to whilk, a bonnie, brave young man, and he win a shillin' or twa by trying the auld brocht the lassie here. They had but to trick, though the ministers on ilka side, o' say twa words to be beyond the power o' a' denominations, are wild now against itony faitbers, to belong to ane anither as and fit to rug the head off onybody that was ordained, so that she could follow the does siccan work. And, mem, it wasna a' drum or sail the seas wi' him, and only fun," continued Jeannie solemnly, for like death micht part them.” a good, conscientious lass she was exer- Come, this is better,” cried Marianne cised in mind by the minister's condemna. with a bright color in her pale cheeks. tion, every time it recurred to her memory. “Tell us more about it, Jeannie. What " Fule lads and silly lasses have been car- excitement there must have een! Did ried aff their feet, and had to find them the couple come dashing up to the door, again an' rue their madness ower late. I their horses covered with foain, and the bae seen a puir lad that wasna villain parents and guardians in hot pursuit?” enough tae forsake even the licht lass “Na, that wasna the way ilka day. Sic that hadna been ill tae coort, and was bis wild wark and desperate risks were not married wife from the moment they had tried often, though I hae beard o' horses joined hands, come up next morning, a' bein' shot dead frae the foremost carriage, shaking, to the farm toon where I was and drivers bribed to lame the puir sense. lieving in service, to seek his wife an' hae less beasts, or to tint the road and whum. to be telled whilk o'the glaiket lasses was mle ower their cargy in the middle o' a she; and I mind a daft lassie, fit to greet peat bog, that took ilka man, that tried to her heart oot, because she had to gang stand up, to the boughs in water-boles, wi'
for lite, mind ye, mem, wi'a nae means o' gettin' on, except by slank's lad she neither kenned nor cared for, see. naigie. But whiles, as in the story I'm in' that she had only drawn up wi' bim tellin', the faither was sae close that the the day afore, for naething save to vex lovers daured nae drive up to the front ber ain lad, whom she had quarrelled door lest they should be owertaken afore wi' nae further gane than the market they were made one. They left their mornin'."
empty chaise in a dip o' the road mair “Ah! that was bad," said Marianne, than a mile awa', as gin there had been a disappointed in her turn. “I am afraid breakdown. The driver galloped on his your ministers are right, and runaway best horse — and they said it cast ilka marriages are not what they should be." shoe within the mile — to gie warning
“Weel,” said Jeannie, with her amor bere, while the pair turned into a road patriæ and her Scotch logic resisting even Cambus Road, and jinked by a foot-path her loyalty to her minister, “ I'm thinkin' to the auld Cambus doocot, that as a' there's something to be said on baith the world kens is jist ower the Borders. sides. The brawest bridegroom I saw There was in this parish a mass-John here was nae mair than a writer laddie, that I suld be so far left to inysel' as to an' he run awa'wi' bis auld maister's gie him sic a name, for he was a godly dochter -a lassie wisiller. But her minister o' the gospel, in days to come. faither was dead and she was a saft snool, But he didna set his face against rinawa' and had a lang-headed brither who wanted marriages in his youth, leecensed and to keep the siller in the family — that was placed though he was. What suld hinder to him and his bairns, sae he was guardin' him frae hurrying out to meet and marry her day and night an' would hae bindered the lad and lass in the doocot, as gin her frae being married ava, and they said they had been twa doos? They were the writer lad, whether he had the siller yoked thegither as sure and fast as if they in his ee or no, was douce and decent, and had been a leddy and gentleman surwould be gude enough till her — far better rounded by a proud and blythe wedding than her aio flesh an' blude. Noo wasna that a deliverance wrocht by a rinawa'!
. From the French gentille.
company, in a fine house, and blessed by can, baith lads and lasses. Ye ken that a man wha had maybe christened her and least said is sunest mended. But there catecheesed him. The driver and the are waur husbands and wives than some leddy's maid, wha had come wi' her mis- you'll find in Scotland, mem." tress, served for witnesses. There was a "I believe you," said Marianne. "I wild set at Cambus Ha' at the time, but think you are a remarkable people, with they were aye hearty and hospitable, and charming institutions. If I ever marry, were gude to weddingers, whom they I'll come and do it in Scotland. But in wadna thwart, sin' some o' theirsel's had order that I may know what I'm about, made rinawa' marriages, wi' sma' credit, you must tell me what really takes place, if the truth were told. Ony way the Cam. what you can find to say, when it can be bus Ha’ family took in the fugitives and said, in so few words, either in a church gave them quarter for the nicht. They or a house, or a doocot,' or wherever you cam’ower here the next day to face the may find yourselves.” yerl, wha cursed and blackguarded them; “Weel,” said Jeannie, slightly offended but kennin' he could do nae mair, though by the tone and the laughter, and defeod. he lived to be a hunder, suffered them ing herself with some dignity, we diona to tak’ the highroad, while he took the believe that the Lord's confined to temlaigh."
ples made wi' hands. We think the earth “I dare say he thought better of it, and is his and the fulness thereof, and that was reconciled to his daughter in the his een are open to what's doing ower the end,” said Iris demurely; " we are not so whole world where ilka place is his temclever on our side of the Border as you ple.. When all is richt and in order for a are on yours, Jeannie."
Scotch waddin', our minister puts up a bit " So I hae heard say, mem. But the prayer out o' bis head, and there's a sma' feck o'the couples were mair crafty than discoorse, o' his own composition,” Jeanto let it be touch and go like that; whiles nie explained with emphasis, as if she set they would come dressed up sae as their great store on the originality of the perain mithers could hardly hae kenned them, formance. “The discoorse may last for or they would travel here by opposite ten or twenty minutes ; then there's roads and at different times. The bride another prayer at the end. But the groom by bissel or wi'a frien' would ride ceremony itsel' which does the business by a coach, and the bride would come, needna tak' three minutes." sometimes her lee-lane - eh! but she 6. Then what on earth does it consist maun bae had a stout heart and a hantle of? It sounds exceedingly like the wavfaith in her lad - it micht be in the dead ing of a magician's wand. o' nicht, by anither."
Na, there's nae magic aboot it. It's “And how did they do it, Jeannie? out just the speerin' and answerin' o'twa of church, without a regular clergyman reasonable questions. The minister, or always. Did they never forget their it micht be anither man in a rinawa' marprayers-books and the rings?" pressed riage, asks the lad afore ane or twa witMarianne, with the keenest curiosity. nesses, will he tak’ this woman to be bis
Prayer-books !” cried Jeannie, her lawfu' wedded wife, and he says yes, or trim figure, in its dark stuff gown, wbite he only boos if he's blate. Syne the min. cap and apron, swelling at the very word. ister speers at the lass if she'll tak’ this “ We haena had a service-book sin' auld man to be her lawfu' wedded husband, Jenny Geddes flung her stule at the head and she curtshies. Then the minister or o'the minister for dauring to pray in the the man ackin for him says, “Join hands, kirk aff printed paper. As for the ring, it and the twa cleek their fingers thegither. is but the bridegroom's giftie to the bride; Neist the minister or the man proclaims, it can be given at ony time. Na, we're Do What God has joined letna man put married wi' rings.”
asunder,' and that's a', unless the signing “ What are you married with then, in o'the lines that certifies the fac'." the name of wonder? Did you ever hear “ Do you mean to say you marry as an anything like it, Iris?” cried Marianne, anonymous man and woman? Do you as at an incredible but surpassingly ludi- not even say M or N?” inquired Mari. crous joke. “I dare say you don't vow anne, still full of interest and diversion. to love, honor, and obey your husbands, “ What's your wull, mem?” Jeannie when you take them for better, for questioned in her turn, using an ancient worse?"
phrase which signified that she had not “Na,” said Jeannie again with a canny the most distant idea what her interro sense of humor, “ we say as little as we gator meant.
“It is not my will, it is yours, to marry night she kept reminding Iris, “what in this odd, mysterious fashion.”
throbbing temples and beating hearts “I beg your pardon, mem, but there must have sought refuge in these rooms. can be nae mystery -- or mockery either, I wonder if no bride ever gave in at the about honest folk," protested Jeannie in last moment, fainted dead away, or said digoantly. She felt strongly on such sub. she would go back as she came, and try jects as her pationality and her kirk, and to be patient, and obey the law.” had a settled conviction that she did well “A runaway marriage was not breaking to be angry when they were attacked. the law - the law of the land, I mean, that
Iris interposed as a peacemaker. “We went with the couple,” said Iris. “I only wished to know if you used no Chris- think, like sensible Jeannie, that in extian name, such as Jeannie or Donald, in treme cases the remedy was open to trial. your marriage service.”
I have no doubt that ibe law existed for “Donald is a Hielant name,” said Jean- these, and to prevent weak women being pie a little disdainfully. “We hae nae hardly dealt with. It strikes me that Donalds among our Lowland Scotch there was a certain manliness and honesty ony way none here awa on the Borders. in the law, though, of course, it might be Na, we mention no names, at least we much abused." were na wont to bring them into the cere. “Of course," echoed Marianne, without mony, thoug
some new-fangled ministers having paid much attention to what her say baith names, and would put it to me companion had said. “Don't you think as Jean Maxwell, whether I would take it would be dreadful, horrible, to marry Tam Riddel or Allan Elliot for my man." without love, Iris, even if the inan were
Apparently Jeannie had not the guile to not a high-handed sinner, such as the girl use assumed names for her illustration, described ?” since she colored violently, and added Iris had never heard Marianne speak that she did not think the new fashion, so seriously before, and even yet she was
sae mannerly and modest” as the old. not sure that a jest might not lurk be. “But there's the mistress's ring o' the neath the seriousness, till her cousin bell. She'll say I've been clamerin' in. added in a tone of suppressed excitestead of minding my wark, and deed she'll ment, no be far wrang,” cried Jeannie in self- “ I would not do it for all the world ; I condemnation, as she caught up her broom know it would be a terrible danger for and dustpan and made a hasty retreat to It is another thing with you. I
I bethe door, before Marianne could call after lieve you would be good, and do your best her,
under any circumstances. But 1 – Iris, Say we kept you for the enlarging of did it never strike you that there was our ideas. It is quite true, and she may something of — granny in me?" Marianne put it in the bill."
broke off and asked in a low tone with a Marianne Dugdale was much struck slight shudder, but looking Iris full in the and greatly eolivened by what she had face all the time, as if to surprise her an. beard of the runaway marriages, once of swer. frequent occurrence in the house, and of No, no, nothing at all,” said Iris, starthe simplicity of the ceremony of mar. tled and shocked, “except that it goes riage according to the Presbyterian without saying we are both of her blood, Church of Scotland. She ran the two and in some physical points, features, subjects together, and mixed them up in tones of voice, tricks of gesture, we may extricably in her mind, while she retailed bear a resemblance to ber, as doubtless the information she had got from the we do to each other,” added Iris, seeking chambermaid, with great gratification, for to widen the chain of relationship to which the edification of the whole party. The she was referring. topic was a promising one, full of senti. “Ab ! I know better,” said Marianne, mental interest, and yet fertile in jokes. drawing a long breath. “I am bot. Even the quietest and shyest person blooded, impulsive, beadstrong, as she there, not to say the oldest, who was never has been. I, too, could be brought to behind with her joke, but as being a little stand at bay, and to break through every of an invalid at present resigned herself obstacle in the path of my will. I know to performing the part of a listener, could I am a weaker woman than she is, but not resist expressing an opinion, and sometimes I think it is not only because calling forth a laugh. But none was so hers is the stronger nature, but because I full of the stories as Marianne Dugdale. am really like granny, that she can turn Even after the girls had retired for the land twist and make a tool of me.
perfectly well what she is about all the sidering the existing divisions among the time, how she is touching every sensitive successors of George Fox, touching mat. spot in my composition, stirring me up ters of principle as well as of practice, this and egging me on to be vain, heartless, “old or primitive Christianity may be said and treacherous. But I cannot resist her to be scarcely known” in the house of its - I defy myself to do it. It is the same friends. This is the judgment of one as bringing fire to tinder. I kindle up in who, from the exceptional fulness of his a blaze in a moment, and become a pup- acquaintance with the writings of Friends pet to be played off according to her pleas- ancient and modern, is perhaps better
It is easy to guess what you will qualified than any other man living to say, that I can strive and watch, and pray form a well-instructed estimate of the to hold my own, but I am afraid I cannot. amount and the drift of the various There is some sympathy between us. changes which have taken place in Quaker No, don't let us speak of it any longer, opinion, since the rise of the denominaIris, for even to allude to it in a whisper tion amid the ferment of religious life in seems to make it a greater reality, and to the golden days of England's Common. render me more in her power.”
wealth. This impatient and, as it seemed, cow- Joseph Smith does not step out of the ardly turning of Marianne's back on a neutral place of the accurate and diligent cause for appreliension, with the avoid. collector of materials. He leaves his exance of all present reflection and future haustive catalogue of Quaker books, tracts resolution on the point, was a new prac. and broadsheets to speak for itself; only tice to Iris Compton. She had faced expressing a hope, in the prelude to his each foe that stood in her path, whether accumulation of the multifarious bibliog. or not she had been worsted in the con- raphy of writings opposed to Quakerism test.
in its successive developments, that his But there was no room at this date for labors “may prove one means of opening rational remonstrance with Marianne the eyes of some.” But there have been Dugdale. The moment her humor others, with eyes at length opened, who changed, which it was apt to do in the bave felt the burden of the task of recalltwinkling of an eye, she would put her ing Friends to their ancient landmarks, small hands over her shell-like ears and and
conscientiously endeavored, call out pettishly she was not be preached though with humble means and on to, though she had just challenged and obscure scale, to present in their own almost solicited the sermon. She would persons a spectacle of primitive Quakerprefer to advance partially blindfold to ism revived. threatened destruction, ratlier than endure Few, perhaps, are aware of the exist. the sharp pain, acute self-reproach, and ence in this country of a small but earnest mental trouble of opening her eyes, count- body, which for the last fifteen years has ing the cost, and making a determined assembled half yearly as a General Meetstand and an abiding choice as to what ing of Friends, in complete independence was to be her conduct and fate. At the of the London Yearly Meeting. Such as same time poor little square-shouldered it is, it was gathered mainly by the quiet Marianne was far less unstable by nature exertions of a remarkable man, who from than from defective training and untoward the year 1860 was the subject of an in. circumstances.
creasing “exercise,” to use Friends' phraseology, leading him to correspond with like-minded Friends, with a view to bring. ing thein together in regular conference,
on what he conceived to be the original From The Modern Review.
lines of Friends' testimony. Of his de. MODERN QUAKERISM.
cease no tidings reached the outside pub. “What is Quakerism?” asks the in- lic, dependent for its religious intelligence dustrious bibliographer of Friends' litera. upon the newspapers. Nor has his life ture, in the brief preface to his “ Biblio- and work found any chronicle as yet, ex. theca Anti-Quakeriana." He owns that it cept in the modest “testimony of his is a question which “seems to have puz: immediate coadjutors. There is a hope zled many members of the Society of that from his correspondence and his Friends of late years;” and while decid. spiritual writings a fuller portrait of his ing for his own part with William Penn mind may at some time be given to the that it is “primitive Christianity revived,” world by his widow. But meanwhile, to he makes the strong admission that con those who study with reverence the com.
plex nanifestations of the religious life of It is a common, and, considering the quiour time, it may be of some interest to etude which for so long a period cast a make the acquaintance of this conscien. chill over the mission aspects of Quaker. tious Friend, and to learn something of ism, it is perhaps an accountable misconthe meaning of the movement of which ception to suppose that the Society of he was the originator and the centre. Friends is a Church without regular and
John Grant Sargent (1813–1883) was a recognized ministers. But no error can birthright member of the Society of be more fundamental than that which, Friends, his parents being Isaac and while aware of the absence of an order of Hester Sargent. He was born at Pad- priests or preachers trained for the perdington, and apprenticed to a draper at formance of professional functions at Leighton Buzzard; but his early business stated intervals, ignores the presence of life was spent in Paris, where he worked a distinct class of heralds of the gospel, under his father, a carriage-builder, and who obey a call not of men nor by man. the owner of a brick-field. Isaac Sargent The number and the activity of such minsat somewhat loosely to Quakerism, and isters is regulated not by the economic it is not surprising that his son, as a laws of supply and demand. They are in youth in Paris, soon dropped the associa. vigor and in plenty when the supreme tions and left off the distinguishing prac. Speaker, who deputes them, needs and tices of Friends. But the influences of employs a human voice; their diminished his Quaker brioging.up were only in abey. band, and the infrequency of their minis
While yet at Paris he was drawn trations, are signs that God wills silence within the power of Friends' principles rather than speech. Among such minis. by a stronger claim than that of a mere ters Sargent at length found his place. birthright membership. He shared the From about the year 1851 he exercised same experience of the light within, which his gift in meetings. And it is charactershook the soldiers and shoemakers of the istic of his absolute reliance on the inward old Commonwealth time, and made them, witness, that he neither sought nor ob. as Gervase Bennet said, “ Quakers;' tained any official recognition of his claims quivering beneath the influence divine, as a preacher among Friends. There are though never shaking before the face of indeed two classes of Friends' speakers.
He became “convinced ” the When a speaker's word finds acceptance, truth as held by Friends; and his con- he is by tacit consent permitted 10 use vincement made the Friends' livery of all opportunities of declaring it which dress and speech no antiquated and mean- arise; were he unacceptable, he would be ingless usage to him, but a badge of honor "stopped.” A further step is taken when and conscience. Again he sat in the si-a speaker is officially placed upon the list lent waiting upon the Spirit, which is at of recognized ministers. In this case he once the opportunity and the life of the has his certificate, to be read in the meet. faithful worship of Friends. No matter ings which he visits on a missionary jour. that oftentimes there was no one to join ney, and the expenses of such journey are him. They who truly wait upon the Spirit defrayed by the meeting which authorizes are ready, if need be, to wait alone. It is it. Not even from the distinct society a beautiful glimpse of calm, resolved sin. which he was instrumental in forming did cerity, this picture which we have of the Sargent take with him on his travels any London lad, true to the quickenings of official credentials. He was a minister of bis conscience in a strange land, and, the Spirit, pure and simple. unattended by a sympathizing associate, As with the Friends' ministers from holding amid the great world of Paris a their earliest days, the mission laid upon reverent and joyful communion with the him was international in its range. Twice Source of life and light, unseen, but inly did he specially visit America (the last felt.
occasion being in 1882); several times, Returning to England about 1844, he when his business journeys took bim to was for some time a farmer in Essex and the Continent, he found occasion for spirSurrey, and subsequently the proprietor itual labors under the burden of his call; of a wood-turning mill in Derbyshire. to Ireland he paid a missionary visit, This led him to travel a good deal, sor speaking in Friends' meetings. But dur. the purpose of disposing of his bobbins. ing the last five-and-twenty years of his Moving about on business errands, his life bis main work was internal to the spirit gradually burned with the desire to quiet circles in which his own views of be of service in the gospel ministry, and Friends' principles prevailed. For while he became a preacher among Friends. I working to extend the influence of those