THE following notes describe a remarkable incident in the early life of the late Rev. John Macrae, of Knockbain and Greenock, as told by himself:— The narrator is the late Mr. Duncan MacIver, cabinetmaker, Inverness, from whose manuscript this is taken down.
“In our late times people are satisfied with what they call a good sermon or lecture on the Sabbath. In the early days (of Mr. Macrae) when one was made spiritually alive to see how dreadful it is to be a sinner in a sinful state under the wrath, nothing could relieve or satisfy that one but Christ.” Speaking thus one night in Mr. Kennedy’s house in Kishorn, Mr. Macrae went on to tell how, at one time, in this desire to hear a sermon in which perhaps he might find Christ, he set out on a Friday from Arnsdale for Redcastle, a distance of 80 miles over hills and glens, finishing the return journey on Tuesday, with his feet weary; but he did not regret the trip. He knew that he could hear sermons nearer hand; but was Christ to be found in them? One asked him if that was the first time he was at Redcastle. “O no,” he said. “I was then teaching a school in Arnsdale, but I have a vivid remembrance of the first time I went to Redcastle. I walked over the hills, and reached Strathconon on the Saturday, and called there on Roderick Mackenzie (Ruairidh Phadruig). At an early hour on Sabbath morning we both set out on the next tramp of twenty miles to Redcastle. In the parish of Urray, long before daylight, we came to a small cottage, well known to Roderick, but never seen by me. There was light in the window. Roderick opened the door and entered. In the first room an aged woman was sitting before a spark of fire on the hearth. Roderick passed on to the second room, and I followed. There we found lying on bed Eleidh Dhall (Blind Helen)—blind indeed in the world, but “light in the Lord,” the word of life dwelling richly in her heart. Unaware of a stranger being present, the conversation between herself and Roderick was so richly experimental and encouraging that at last I ventured to say a word. She started, and sat up in bed, excitedly asking, ‘Who is there? Who is there?’ Roderick, to dispel her seeming fear, told her that it was a young man that was along with him, and that she need not be afraid. ‘But,’ she said, ‘in my sleep last night I heard that voice preaching, and you will hear it yet from the pulpit.’ In my thoughts at that time there was nothing in the world more unlikely than that I would ever be a minister. I frequently visited her after this, and I never met another woman like her, except one lady in Greenock, who besides her godliness had the advantages of education. When, in my study, I made up my mind to visit her. She always sent the girl to open the door, saying, ‘Mr. Macrae is coming.'”