Barnabas Tales

by Denzil Lawrence

”Gone to Galashiels”

  ”Expelled from Membership for sin and unfaithfulness”,

  ”Left because of her inability to travel the distance”,

  ”Died in hope of glory”,

  ”America”,

  ”Expelled - Unfaithful”

  ”Excluded for non-attendance”

  ”Died Sept 1854 - The only one who has died of Cholera at this visitation of the disease.”

  ”Excluded for unfaithfulness long borne with and counselled”,

  ”Left that he might be free to propagate latitudinarian principles”

  “Excluded for unfaithfulness” - (Six consecutive members)

  For members who joined after May 1854

  Gone, as he says, to another church; but his attendance before unsatisfactory.”

  “Dead”

  “Supposed to be dead”

  “Excluded from membership - non conformity”

  “Excluded for ungodly conduct - considerably before this date”

  “Gone to America - Faithful”

  “Resigned - unreasonable”

  “Died - Shortly after an ungodly marriage”

  “Expelled for ungodly conduct”

  “Excluded for non-attendance”

  “Excluded for unfaithfulness”

  “Excluded - careless”

  “Excluded from membership for ungodliness and impenitence”

  “Excluded from membership when she was read out in Church meeting.”

  “Expelled for sin unrepented of”

  “Publicly expelled for heinous sin”

  “Died at 1 p.m. (Last Sabbath he was at the Lord’s Table and at the Hall, Bridgeton, at evening service. What a loud call “Be ye also ready”)”

  “Given up as hopeless”

  “Expelled from membership in Public meetings - for gross sin” (Husband and wife)

  “Expelled for intemperance”

  “Resigned - very careless”

  “Gone to America - A useful member”

  “Excluded for carelessness”

  “Excluded - married a godless man”

  “Excluded - pervert to Romanism”

  “Left thro’ ignorance and pride”

  “Expelled for scandalous sin”

  “Excluded - a silly man”

  “Left Expelled - immorality”

  “Left - supposed to have returned to the beggarly elements of the World”

  “Gone to England”

  “Excluded from membership - married a worthless man, and died in childbed”

  “Left - weak minded and easily offended”

  “Excluded - unfaithful”

  “In Ireland - a decent man”

  “In Australia - a creditable member”

  “Left - joined another body to become a City Missionary”

  “Resigned - drunkard”

  “Expelled for misconduct”

  “Left - gone to ring another Church bell”

  “Left - careless”

  “In America - not first-rate”

  “Left for Queensland - creditable member”

  “Excluded - weak in understanding”

  “Excluded for sin - Drink”

  “Excluded - drink”

  “Excluded - obstinate and vain”

  “Expelled for obstinate unfaithfulness”

  “Left thro’ ignorance - Carried about with every wind of doctrine”

  “Gone away after “the loaves and fishes””

  “Excluded - careless drunkard”

  “Died in good hope”

  “Married to John Hunter and Died - Her end was peace”

  “Expelled - hypocritical”

  “Left - backslidden”

  “Returned to Primitive Methodists. Noisy in fellowship meetings”

  “Married to Papist and left”

  “Removed out of town - Given to strong drink”

  Until July 21st 1861 there were 640 names of members of whom 197 had died, gone abroad, left, or been excluded - leaving 443 in Communion.

  From then until January 27th 1871, there were only 5 exclusions. On that date 1384 members in total had been admitted since the Church began, but the number remaining is not given.

  Four more were excluded between 1871 and May 1889 when the membership records stop at number 1599. In that year the Church Presbyterian Congregation, one of the United Free Gospel Churches, joined with two and perhaps three Free Gospel Churches to become an Independent Methodist Church.

  By 17th September, 1906 the new register contained 118 names of members of whom there were 35 left. The last entries are on December 12th, 1920.

  On December 31st 1929, someone wrote headings to new columns on a blank page, but there are no entries. More than half of this leather bound ledger is empty, except for a fragment of a letter or notes for a sermon in my Grandfather’s hand, and a certificate written on 5th July, 1880 for Mrs. Ann Hay who was departing for America -“This certificate is granted on her application for it previous to her departure for America where we hope she may be long spared to prove a consistent and useful member of the Church of Christ, as she has done in the past.”

  Alexander Donovan’s bold copperplate hand was, I think, the one which recorded all the early details, good and bad, about members. He joined the original Church in 1820 and died on October 24th 1878 “Having kept the faith, finished his course - in the 85th year of his age, and the 59th year of his Ministry”. During his later years the rates of exclusion and the expulsion of members both decreased, perhaps a sign of diminished personal and institutional vigour. We shall probably not see his like again.

  PRESTON WYNNE - SUNDAY VILLAGE CRICKET.

  We walked, two white figures, from the edge of the field. “Would you like to face?” he asked. “Whatever you wish.” I replied.

  The Malverns to one side, the Black Mountains on the other, and the nearby Woolhope Hills were clear and sharp. The bowler swung his arm. Behind him grew bushes and small trees with the sun glinting through them - there are no sightscreens on a village field.

  “Play!” and he ran in. He was genuinely fast and the ball most definitely hard to see against the background. The fourth ball was fiercely fast and of excellent length and direction. It beat me and I heard a click after it passed the bat. To everyone’s surprise, especially mine, the bails were still on though the delivery had clipped the off stump. A welcome reprieve after a disappointing season.

  Two wickets fell quickly at the other end, and I was surprised to see the incoming batsman, far better than I, wearing a helmet.

  The fiery opener continued to bowl very quickly, but fortunately pitched the ball well up so it was not flying at head-height. But one was at chest level - high enough to be a no-ball - and I saw it too late for evasion It hit the bat handle and my right thumb together. Still, cracked bones heal in a few weeks. The bowler tired and was taken off, to be replaced by a much less hostile spinner.

  I survived another half hour, enjoyed a few satisfying whacks, and was out just in time to return home, shower and catch the last London train.

  “They only let you play because you make the fixtures.” says my wife shaking her head at middle-aged folly. But I think they continue to choose me because someone has to face the fast bowling - and why not? I still enjoyed the game.

  SOUNDS AND HEARING

  Dear Michael,

  Thank you for your message. I’m very flattered that you have asked me for ideas about sounds and hearing. It sounds as if you have a pretty difficult tutor. Here are a few random thoughts.

  How is it that I can tell what my dog is thinking from his bark? And how could I describe his bark so that you would also know? Who can find words for the cheerful slap and ripple under the bows of a dinghy, freshly caught in the flurry of a sudden breeze? Or describe the melancholy, intermittently booming foghorn sound – and the difficulty in judging its distance or direction by ear?

  The ear itself is a marvel – there was sound
before ears appeared, but there must have been great survival advantages in sensing soft vibrations. Who can be unimpressed by the mysterious tiny chain of bones which evolved - the malleus, incus and stapes to transfer and amplify vibrations to the final sensory organ, the cochlea like a coiled cornucopia which turns them into nerve impulses? Even the names are romantic.

  Though this is a pleasure lying ahead for you, show me any parent who can deny the magic of the firstborn’s earliest cry, but also the anxieties afterwards at home - does silence mean sleep or suffocation, and is the child’s crying due to meningitis rather than colic? In due course exhaustion, repeated worries, and especially further babies make us blasé. Away from home, another’s crying child scarcely scratches the surface of our slumber.

  We welcome the mew of seagulls, soft whisper of the collared dove, the woodpecker’s head-banging fusillade or the gentler taps of the nuthatch, even the vainglorious cackle of a senior hen boasting that she has laid the senior egg. The blackbird’s alarm cry warns of danger, and so does a sharp call as the swallows request reinforcements while diving past the head of our cat, before driving her into cover. And in the autumn the swallow generations sit in conclave on the telegraph wires – who can doubt their chattering describes the route to Africa and the difficulties ahead.

  Then I can remember (and how quickly most eyes glaze over and ears switch off at these four words) the all-clear siren, followed later in the night by an approaching drone – and the relief when the engine noise becomes louder and is recognised as the reassuring distinctive growl of a Lancaster. Relief here, but perhaps on its way back from Dresden.

  My old Uncle George at ninety-four went totally deaf. His unwanted silence was a final straw loaded onto his grating painful back and joints, ulcerated swollen legs, blind eye, and his destroyed urinary sphincters. So he tried to commit suicide but failed for lack of knowledge or technology. Rescued and brought into care (only possible because the stubborn tether to his home had finally frayed through), his deafness proved due to wax, was easily cured, and now he has gone home again. When he last hobbled with his Zimmer to the door to let us in, I could hear him singing to himself.

  How silent can silence be? Our light pollution dims the stars, and likewise there are few places without noise. Even the womb, if we believe that Mozart for the foetus begets musical appreciation, can be noisy. The darkest place I recollect was a cavern in a dry disused Roman copper mine in Alderley Edge. My companions went to explore the tunnels with the two torches, leaving me in total blackness and without the slightest sound. In a strange way it was quite comforting. In contrast our London friends are disturbed by much less intense silence – they waken uneasily at night to listen to the quiet outside, broken by nothing more threatening than leaves rustling. They miss the rumble of traffic and the odd aeroplane.

  Speech – one of the glories of Homo sapiens – what a mess we can make of it or what success! I have seen a spoken spell cast over an entire hall by a top politician – a Prime Minister no less – as he leaned elegantly on a lectern and caressed his audience with a few kind phrases. More than words, it was the timing, the inflexions, and especially the pauses, which with the right or wrong wizardry can turn speech into a kind of music to soothe or inflame, to stir to violence, or even promote tolerance.

  And that brings me to music itself – from the didgeridoo to the greatest and most important orchestras. Good music is one of the few things which should make us really proud of our species, but to is far too complex to discuss today.

  So I hope some of these snippets help you with your week’s work.

  Your affectionate uncle.

  TICK BIRD CRISIS

  World famous British talking tick birds may be expelled from International Birdspeak competitions. Manager Charles refuses to provide urine for drug tests!

  Ron and Eth told the Stun's court correspondent “We've not laid an egg yet, and he keeps putting ginseng the in seed. First our beaks went green and then black.”

  In other shock revelations Ron confessed to hatching in South Africa, and to preferring hippo ticks to corgi ticks. He has never taken British citizenship.

  Birdspeak Society President Sir Tommy Twitter said “All competitors for the Delhi World Birdspeak Competition must provide urine specimens, otherwise my committee believes some birds will have unfair words put into their beaks. We preen ourselves on having regulations with teeth. I'm very worried about the African connection, and now that their beaks have gone black some of the Commonwealth teams may challenge their taxonomy and mixed colour.”

  Informed sources report that Lord Feather, Minister for Brdsspeak, has been told to stamp made in GB on Ron, Eth, and any eggs despite clear RSPCA and EEC directives. The Marlborough House spokesman refused to comment.

  Ron squawked crossly, “Any more of this and I'll go black all over, and cancell your contract for my Di's eye view.”

  The Stun demands “Hands off our birds! No more ginseng!!. And no diabolic steroids.

  We appeal to readers to rally round the gritty beaked Brits and send every spare hippo tick they can find. Ron and Eth need your help to put their best beaks forwards and win the Gold World Birdsspeak medal for Britain and for the Stun's readers.

  THE NEW DECISIVE DEMOCRATIC PARTY.

  There follows a broadcast on behalf of the Decisive Democratic Party:-

  There is a better way! The Decisive Democratic Party stands for change and less and better government! We, the DDP, faced with what this Government pathetically calls "Difficult Choices", will make prompt decisions.

  When choices are simple, the DDP makes quick and correct decisions. Even difficult matters will be decided in Cabinet within a week - Yes, within a week. Delay, foot-dragging and huge unnecessary expense will be abolished.

  Remember those disgraceful delays in the past - the Channel Tunnel, Europe, The House of Lords, BSE, agricultural policy, GM foods, Bosnia, Kosovo, the Euro, the banks. Bureaucracy is the embodiment of delay - procrastination has become an art form - "Yes Minister" is now "Not In Our Time, Minister". Consider the costs of delays. We will get rid of this burden.

  The Principle of Random Decision is a traditional, much-loved part of British national heritage. Lottery Winners are chosen (very properly) by chance, decided immediately and without fuss - and watched with approval by millions.

  When elected, the DDP will utilise chance to benefit us all

  Difficult cabinet decisions will be made within the week by the spin of a coin, or the drawing of lots. Individual Ministers will have their own coins or decision machines for departmental issues. Tax payments will automatically enter the Main Lottery, so Citizens will look forward to paying taxes and enjoy the excitement of a chance of winning. The very rich, who pay no taxes now, will rush to take part and enter the new tax lottery.

  In addition there will be special random prizes giving exemption from all taxes for varying periods (but with entries to the Lottery preserved). All will be eligible, as well as multinational companies which already enjoy these benefits.

  New members of the House of Lords will be chosen at random - all members of society will have equal chances of ermine. The duration of peerages will also be decided by lot.

  Rail franchises, power cuts, London bus services, hospital and housing waiting lists, and university admissions will be properly randomised. The list of benefits is endless.

  We will be the party of fairness, of randomness and of quick decisions. When decisions prove to be wrong which we understand will happen sometimes, we will change them, free from the blinkered, hide-bound, "I was right all along" posturing of our opponents. We are the principled pragmatists. The DDP Party adapts immediately to change, and evolves and adjusts. Progress, like evolution, has always depended on chance and change, on trial and error, and change again.

  At the Next Election vote for the DDP Party – Your best opportunity to have chances in the future.

  Others parties pretend to have philosophie
s. In truth they are client groups with debts to repay and make ludicrous claims to be consistent. The Tweedledee/Tweedledum politicians have no understanding of the eternal necessity for change, adaptation and getting things done. The Future will be different!

  Support the Decisive Democratic Party. Vote to improve your stake in the Lottery of Life!

  Tales from Nearer Home

  The following are various short stories based in Britain. Some of course have echoes of real characters, places we have visited, or events, but all are entirely fictitious.

  Richard and Karilyn Collins shared a bothy close behind the beach on the mainland opposite Craignure in Skye in the West of Scotland. Golden Eagles nested on the cliffs surrounding the bay. We landed on the shingle beach one summer afternoon. In bad weather it would be a very welcome refuge.

  THE BOTHY BELOW THE GOLDEN EAGLES.

  The wind shrieked and a wave lapped over her stern. Wearily he threw another baler-full of salt water over the side, aware that his feet were now deeper in the water inside the boat. A dark sodden figure huddled beside the mast’s stump.

  Black cliffs loomed above a line of foam and breaking waves, but he saw that the dinghy might pass beyond the ridge of rocks ahead. To starboard the distant lights of Craignure glinted intermittently through the squally rain and spray. He pitched another bucketful overboard, and the water-logged vessel lifted sluggishly but just enough to ride another big wave. Not for the first time he gave thanks for the buoyancy built under her thwarts.

  When he next looked up, the reef with its crashing waves was a few yards to port and tide and wind had just carried them past. Further ahead lay a semicircle of waves breaking on the beach and just visible against the deep blackness of the cliffs behind the bay. He continued to bale.

  Beyond the reef the waves were less and he shook the huddled figure. “We’re almost ashore. You must help now.” A small face looked at him and shuddered.

  Then they were carried by the wind and waves into the shore. The stern lifted again and as a breaker crashed into the boat the keel crunched onto pebbles. Instead of slewing and capsizing, the weight of water pushed the boat into the stones. The wave ebbed as another gathered and grew behind them. “Quick. Ashore.” he shouted, jumped onto the pebbles, grabbed the girl’s life jacket and hauled her over the side. The next wave began to break as he dragged her a few steps up the beach until the rush of waters knocked them both down. He clung onto her, forced his feet into the stones to resist the back-wash, felt them gain purchase on smooth firm rock, and the water released them. A few steps more before the next rush or water, and they had moved beyond the waves’ grasp, stumbling and falling onto rough ground. Behind them the dinghy rolled in the surf.