WILLIAM ANGUS was born at Braemore, in the parish of Lochbroom, about the middle of last century. As he spoke generally of his spiritual birthplace, our information regarding the period of his life prior to his first religious convictions is meagre.
He must have been attracted to the means of grace, as he used to walk from Lufern to Dingwall—a distance of about twenty miles—to hear Dr. Kennedy preach, and returned the same day. He also had a desire to attend Communions. On one occasion he set out from Lufern to Maryburgh on a Communion Sabbath. When he reached Tarvie he observed a woman standing at a bridge. He wondered who was so early astir. (It was the eminently-pious “Isabel Bhuie” of Tarvie.) As he approached her he was hailed with these words: “I am delighted, I am delighted you have come. You will receive this day what will not be taken from you in time or eternity.” She then insisted that he should go on, as she, being aged, could not keep pace with the young man. He went on his way, pondering the salutation. When he reached Maryburgh he went to the English service. After the congregation dismissed, a very intimate friend of his wished him to accompany him to the Gaelic congregation, which met in the open air. At first William refused, as he knew but little Gaelic, but then consented. He was greatly impressed with the earnestness of the preacher, the late Rev. Francis Macbean of Fort-Augustus. As Mr. Macbean proceeded in the application of the sermon, to describe the danger of the sinner and his untold misery if the door of mercy should be shut against him at last, the arrows of conviction entered William’s soul. The words he heard made such an indelible impression upon him that he could relate them verbatim till his death. They are recorded in the Free Presbyterian Magazine of December, 1914 (see page 315). He would have stayed on Sabbath night where Isabel lodged, but, according to promise, he returned to Lufern. Probably he was not conscious of distance, as he would have been absorbed in thinking of what he had heard. His pastoral occupation afforded facilities for meditation as he walked among the lonely hills around Lufern.
He left Lufern and went as a gamekeeper to Strathvaich. He used to go to Dingwall for the week-end, that he might hear Dr. Kennedy. Some time after he returned to his native parish. While there he heard Dr. Kennedy preach at Ullapool, and through that sermon William was made “free.” Thereafter he went to Ireland. During his sojourn there he sorely missed the privileges he enjoyed in his native county. A blight came over his soul. He feared that all was gone. He longed for a reviving in his bondage, and after various vicissitudes he set his face on Lochbroom. He was gamekeeper at Strathnasealg. He attended the Communion at Ullapool after his return, and his drooping soul was refreshed by the word of the truth of the Gospel. The preacher on this occasion was Dr. Kennedy. William, like the woman who lost the piece of money, rejoiced at having found what he thought was gone, and desired the people of God to rejoice with him. He trembled lest he should go down again into the depths. Some time afterwards he suffered great mental distress, and feared there was no hope. He might say, “Lord, where are thy former lovingkindnesses?” The Most High thought of him, and sent one to loosen his bonds. It was Alexander Mackenzie (or as commonly called, “Alisdair Mor”), Inverasdale. He had been at a Communion at Dingwall, and proposed to spend the following Sabbath at Urray. He, however, resolved afterwards to go to Achnasheen. When he arrived there, he had no rest in his spirit, so he set out for Achnevie. (Achnevie is near Strathnasealg.) William Angus called at his neighbour’s house, and found an eminent Christian there. He talked with the stranger for a time, not knowing that it was Alisdair. On Sabbath Alisdair held a meeting. William was present but got no relief. On Monday both of them met, and Alisdair was led to speak a word in season to William’s wearied soul. On being informed of the liberty granted, Alisdair exclaimed, “I know now why I could not go to Urray or stay at Achnasheen.” The joy William experienced then continued for a time, but again he was cast down, and halted between two opinions regarding his duty in commemorating the Lord’s death. He, however, came to the Communion at Ullapool, and spent Saturday night in prayer. On Sabbath he attended the Gaelic service in “the Park,” where Dr. Kennedy preached. It was while that eminent servant of Christ was “fencing the Table” that he described a case which was identical with William’s. He no longer hesitated, but went forward in obedience to the command, “Do this in remembrance of me.” I quote the foregoing as examples of his varied experiences of light and shade in his pilgrimage journey.
He was in indifferent health for several years, and was unable to attend the public services so frequently. In May last year he came to reside in Ullapool, after having spent about forty years as gamekeeper at Strathnasealg. He engaged in prayer publicly, and spoke to the question at fellowship meetings, for the first time, after he came to Ullapool. His sincerity and originality of thought were very striking. He also manifested that he was not ignorant of the devices of Satan.
In July, his malady became more acute, and he was confined to bed. It was evident that his end was fast approaching. One day he said to the writer, “Had it not been for the glimpses I get, my heart would fail. I have my hope on, ‘It is finished,’ where it has been for many years.” On Saturday, the 17th July, his devoted wife could not conceal her grief at the prospect of parting with her excellent husband. On observing this, he said, “I shall be with you one day more.” Mr. George Ross called on the evening of the following day, and William conversed with him with much vigour and clearness of perception. Owing to this, Mr. Ross did not anticipate death to be so near. However, when the “one day more” had elapsed, half-an-hour later William was ushered into the light of eternal day.
To his sorrowing widow, and most dutiful son and daughters, we extend our sympathy. A. S.