I cannot give even a brief outline of my religious experience and leave the North of Scotland out. One time and another, extending over a considerable number of years, I have visited different places in the North of Scotland. A photo on the wall, taken by Bro. Watt, reminds me that I visited Dundee a good many years ago. It also calls to mind many a pleasant chat I had with the man who took the photo. I knew Salem Chapel better than I knew Constitution Road; though I preached in both places, my visits to Salem Chapel were more frequent. I enjoyed my visits there, though there was often some cause for pain. I generally found there men of intelligence and piety. With wise and harmonious pulling together Salem Chapel would have been the meeting place of one of our strongest Churches in Scotland. But want of harmony went a long way towards spoiling the results of pious energy. And Churches are like individuals, or for that matter like nations, if they get into a groove it is not easy to get out. If we could all be roused to a proper sense of our responsibility in this matter what a difference it would make to some Churches! But with all its imperfections, memory recalls many happy seasons of spiritual and social intercourse which I had with brethren in connection with Salem Chapel. Shall I just name one of them? I shall name one who would not have been likely to have got into a sulky mood, no matter whether you took much notice of him or not. I spent many pleasant hours with the late James Chisholm. If any subject or incident had a humorous side Mr. Chisholm was sure to see that the first thing. His joke had to come first no matter how serious the next thing might be. But beneath all that, there was a piety, honesty, and earnestness which rose above all question. His faith in Christ and his deep decision for the faith once for all delivered to the saints, were as steady as the needle to the pole.

Just a sample out of many which occur to my mind. We were out for a walk one day. A gentleman met Mr. Chisholm and stopped to speak to him. After the gentleman had moved off, I asked, "Who is that, Bro. Chisholm?" "He was once a brother of mine," he replied. "And what is he now?" "He belongs to what we sometimes call 'The Kingdom-Come Folks.'" "That does not help me much, Bro. Chisholm. Please, name something that he now believes?" "Well," he replied, "at the second coming of Christ, we have all to be gathered together at one place. I do not know where, but somewhere; and 'Davie' there and his Brethren are to have rods of iron and they are going to make fell work among us." I had then some idea where to locate Mr. Chisholm's friend. But I could never forget Bro. Chisholm's description of his friend's hope in connection with the Lord's second coming.

I have also visited Aberdeen a good many times, with a considerable number of years between my first and last visits. I have always found an intelligent, earnest, hard-working Church there, but often facing untoward circumstances over which they had no control. I often found them doing their duty under adverse circumstances in a manner which called forth my admiration. When a little Church against heavy odds, steadily does its duty, it appeals to me in a way that a large Church never does. For many years that Church was put to a good deal of disadvantage for the want of suitable halls to meet in. This pressed them to build a chapel, which was a heavy burden considering their numbers. Though I could not always do them all the good that I could have wished, it never failed to give me the greatest pleasure to help a Church which walked up to its difficulties and did its best with them. I had generally this pleasure when I visited Aberdeen.

My work at Aberdeen was, for the greater part, of an ordinary Gospel nature, preaching inside and outside as circumstances demanded. I need not therefore take up time in describing it. I may mention one exception to that general rule. Controversy in an Aberdeen evening newspaper, on the subject of non-churchgoing, in which the Rev. Alexander Webster, Unitarian Minister, and one of our members were among those who took part, led to Mr. Webster being asked if he was willing to have a public debate on the destiny of the wicked? His consent being obtained, I was asked by our Church in Aberdeen to represent them in that debate. Mr. Webster's committee were fair, intelligent men, and there was little trouble in making the arrangements. The debate was held in the Trades Hall, Aberdeen, on Monday, 9th, and Tuesday, 10th December, 1901. There was good order and large attentive audiences. On the first night I took the affirmative on the question, "Does Jesus teach that the wicked will suffer endless punishment?" On the second night Mr. Webster took the affirmative on the question, "Does Jesus teach that all mankind will finally be lifted up to holiness and happiness?" As that debate was printed, there are grounds for those who wish to do so forming their own opinions as to the merits of either side. But I may perhaps be permitted to say that a goodly number of persons outside of our connection thanked me for the part I played in that debate.

Mr. Webster and I agreed to be mutually responsible for engaging a reporter and printing the debate. We did not manage, however, to carry out this part of the agreement. Mr. Webster wished all expression of applause by the audience to be removed from the report, as it lowered the dignity of the debate. I consented to that. He expressed a desire that each of us should have a few pages in connection with each copy of the debate on which to advertise our literature. I refused to have anything to do with advertising literature which I could not endorse. He wished the debate to be abridged, so that it might be sold more cheaply. I insisted that the debate be printed as nearly as possible as it took place, or not at all. After weeks of time were thus lost in trying to come to an agreement, Mr. Webster backed out of all responsibility in connection with the printing of the debate. Mr. Webster was by that time lecturing on the debate on the Sunday evening. My friends then advised me not to go on with the printing. They said that the weeks lost were valuable from a monetary point of view. That interest in the debate was beginning to die down, and I would be almost sure to lose by it if I printed. However, I resolved that when I had gone so far I would see the thing through, and I asked my friends in Aberdeen to go on with the printing on my responsibility. I had no further trouble with that debate. My friends in Aberdeen were very capable of looking after the printing, and I left everything to them and they did the work willingly. Nor did I lose anything. It cleared the expense of printing and a little over.

In that debate I found nothing that tended to cause me to alter the position which I had taken up, but I found much to confirm me in the truth of what I was contending for. I kept well before the audience that I was running no risk even if I was mistaken in regard to what I was contending for. That is, serving God and thus living a holy life here resulted in greater happiness even here than if you lived a wicked life, and at the same time it made sure of you living on the right side for eternity, no matter which of us had the truth on our side in the debate. On the other hand, if you believed what Mr. Webster taught that, no matter how you lived or died, you would finally be lifted up to holiness and happiness, if in view of this you ventured upon living a godless life, you might learn when it was too late that you had made an eternal mistake. You had lost everything in eternity and had gained nothing in time. How Mr. Webster dared to take this terrible responsibility upon himself with no better arguments to support his cause than those be presented, is more than I can tell.

I have often been further north than Aberdeen, and one time and another, I have spent a good deal of time among the fishermen of Banffshire. At first this was largely a new experience. A change of place had been quite a common thing for me for years, but this was more than a change of place, it was to a considerable extent a change of people. The dress and calling and habits of the people were in many respects different from what I have been used to. Nevertheless, I was at home among them from the very start. In some things they were akin to the miners among whom I had lived the greater part of my time. They did not often try to be genteel, or to give themselves airs. As a rule they were religious, or they did not pretend to be. Those who were religious had generally the courage of their convictions. Next to the man who is earnestly contending for what you believe to be right, you prefer the man whom if he does not believe as you do, frankly and openly expresses his dissent. I have found a fair share of this kind of thing among both fishermen and miners. If a man be either for or against you, you know where you are, and have some idea what to do.

The manner in which the fishing was conducted, in so far as work and wages, or rather capital and labour, were concerned, interested me. In the ordinary sense of the word "wages," the Banffshire fisherman cannot, as a rule, be said to work for wages. A man who has not a boat of his own, or a share in a boat, generally engages himself to work in connection with a certain boat for the season. A certain proportion of the value of fish sold goes to the boat and the nets; and what remains is shared equally among the crew, the skipper getting no more than an ordinary fisherman. This induces every man to do his best, and I never heard of a strike among them. The man who buys a boat cannot always lay down its full value in cash, but he can borrow at fair interest what he is short. Thus capital gets no more than what is due to it, and the rest goes to the boat and nets and labour. If other industries could be managed in this way it would be better for all concerned. In some industries it may be difficult to manage, but a great deal more could be done in this way than is being done. These fishermen did not so much fight their way into this position as they grew into it. Very few of them realize the value of this position, and I fear they will not always have the good sense to guard it. Now that steam-power is common and boats more costly, their danger is greater.

At my first visit to Buckie I had not even a rough outline of the method of herring fishing. I asked a big, good-natured brother, who had put himself to a good deal of trouble in calm and storm to take me round to one place and another, if he would be kind enough to explain to me the method of putting the nets out and taking them in, the position of the nets when in the water, etc. I could hardly get him to begin, considering his willingness up to that point, to do anything I wished. I could not understand his reluctance. However, he did begin; I paid the best attention possible to what he said, and from that time to this, I have had some understanding of the process of herring fishing. He satisfied himself that I had got hold of the outline he had given, and then he told me why he was loath to begin to try and instruct me as to the method of fishing for herrings. He named a preacher whom I knew very well, and said, "I was in conversation with him at one time. He seemed to wish to know something about herring fishing. I explained the matter to him as I have done to you. I thought that he was paying attention, but when I had finished, he said, 'Tell me this, Bro. Slater, do you throw these nets into the sea all in a lump?' I made up my mind then that I would not, if I could help it, try again to describe herring fishing to a preacher."

You are always sure of good meetings at Buckie when the fishermen are at home. Their manly earnestness makes it very refreshing to work among them. So far as my experience goes the Higher Critic has not managed to poison many of them. I have preached in nearly all the fishing villages between Buckie and Banff, but in the brief outline I am giving, I dare not venture upon particulars. We have no Church in Cullen, but a number of our Portknockie members live there. At one time I spoke for a number of Sunday evenings in succession in the Town Hall of Cullen, and had very good meetings.

During one of my visits to Portknockie a young fisherman was drowned at sea. His body was recovered and brought home. The funeral took place on a Sunday afternoon. A large number of fishermen from Portknockie and neighbouring villages attended the funeral. The cemetery was about a mile distant, and the coffin was carried by the men. When we were ready to set out for the cemetery, about a hundred young women, two abreast, took up their position in front of the coffin. This was done without the slightest bustle or confusion. Each one had arranged with a partner, and each pair was about pace behind the pair in front of them. They were all dressed alike, and all well dressed. Each had a black dress of good material and a black shoulder-shawl. They were all bare-headed, no hat, no jacket, no umbrella. There was a hard dry snow driven by a bitterly cold wind, but each girl walked with head erect regardless of the blast. I knew the parents of the young man who was drowned, and I was deeply impressed by that funeral.

You may visit any of the towns I have mentioned, and have very little idea of the extent of the herring fishing industry. My first visit to Fraserburgh during a fishing season enlarged my conceptions in that respect in a wonderful degree. I knew before that, of course, that there was a lot of herring fishing, but I did not till then think that one small town like Fraserburgh would have more tons of herrings landed in it in one day than there are tons of coal produced in a day from one of our largest collieries, but it is so. I did not till then think that there were as many herrings used in all the world as there are herrings caught at Fraserburgh. When I used to visit Fraserburgh, about 700 boats were there for the fishing season. Only a small proportion of these belonged to the town. There were boats from a great many different places. And many of the fishermen from other places brought their wives and families there for the season.

We always got large open-air meetings on the Sunday evenings. These were a kind of Pentecostal meetings. We had people there from a great many different places. These meetings were so generally good that you do not feel inclined to particularize in regard to them. Still in my experience one of those meetings did rise a bit above the others. False reports were being handed round concerning our belief in regard to the work of the Holy Spirit. That caused me to announce that I would deal with that subject on the following Sunday evening. That brought a larger crowd than usual. I stood on a pile of wood at the end of a house near the quay. There was plenty of space right and left and in front. The people stood closely packed together from where I stood, as far out as they could hear me, and my voice was fairly good then. For an ordinary Gospel meeting that was, I think, the largest meeting I ever addressed. I could not have had a more patient or attentive heariing. I had a few questions put at the close - that was not uncommon - but there was no attempt in any of the questions to shake any of the points which I had made in my address.

That discourse was destined to pass before more minds than any other one I have delivered. Over a thousand people heard it to begin with. About that time the editor of the "Bible Advocate" asked some of our preachers to send him a photo and a sermon for publication. Some of my friends had asked me to print that sermon, so I decided to send the substance of it to the editor, and those who wished to see it in print could see it there. Friends in Australia copied it from the "Bible Advocate" and gave it a place in their magazine there, so that it was read on the other side of our little world. I have also been informed, but I am speaking from hearsay, that a number of articles from that magazine were printed in book form, under the title of "Pure Gold," and my sermon was honoured by giving it a place there. In addition to that I have three times printed it in pamphlet form. I do not know of another address of mine that has had as wide a circulation. I think I am safe in saying that I have received more thanks and expressions of approval for that sermon that any other one that I have delivered. I had very little expectation of all this when I delivered it.

Beginning at Stornoway in the early summer of 1901, I spent nearly a whole year among the fishermen. Fred Cowin and I went to Stornoway at the beginning of the fishing season that year, and were there for two months. We had good open-air meetings every Sunday evening, and, as at Fraserburgh, we had men from a great many different places. There was not much opportunity for meetings during the week, but we had a good deal of conversation with individuals. We had good weather nearly all the time we were there, and we had daylight nearly all the time. Darkness could hardly be said to have set in till daylight began to dawn. There was a considerable difference between there and Glasgow in that respect. The last Sunday we were there was the only one on which the rain looked like stopping our Sunday evening outside meeting. Though it rained all the time, over two hundred people came to the meeting. I took shelter in a porch while Bro. Cowin was speaking. When he finished I stepped out. We generally sang a few verses of a Scottish paraphrase between the speakers. Bro. Wm. Reid of Buckie was conducting the meeting. When I got to his side he asked, "Shall we sing?" "No," I said, "I think you had better not. People will not stand and sing in rain like that, they will go away." "Oh no," he said, "they will not go away." "Then please yourself, Bro. Reid." So we sang in the rain, and the audience remained until after I had spoken. It is a rare thing to see a man in a fisherman's garb with an umbrella up. There were no umbrellas, and they all stood as patiently as if the sun had been shining.

When we left Stornoway Bro. Cowin and I went to Fraserburgh, and were there during the fishing season. We had large meetings every Sunday evening. When the season was over at Fraserburgh, I went south to the English fishing. Bro. Cowin did not go south with me, but the General Evangelistic Committee sent help from somewhere every Sunday. I had help from Liverpool, Leeds and London. The first two weeks I was at Scarborough. There were only a few fishing boats there. Fishing boats are hardly wanted in that grand place. However, I had a pleasant time with the little Church there, and was very well cared for. We had fairly good open-air meetings in which I took part. A Scotch fisherman was baptized in the sea after one of those meetings.

After two weeks at Scarborough, I went on to Yarmouth. Like the other places, the fishing season there lasts about two months. I was there most of the time; one Sunday or two I was at Lowestoft. Again we had good outside meetings on the Sunday evenings. Though we have no Church in Stornoway, Fraserburgh, or Yarmouth, we had always a good meeting for Breaking of Bread on Lord's Day.

As soon as our brethren get to these places some of them consult together and take a hall and fix the time for meeting and make it known among themselves. There are always brethren from a number of different Churches, but they are brethren, and they know each other and come together on that day. I was pleased to see the prompt action of the brethren in looking out halls for this purpose. They do not look upon being from home as being any excuse for them not meeting on the first day of the week.

At Stornoway and Fraserburgh there was no fishing on Sunday. When we got to Yarmouth that was changed. The Scotch fishermen own or control their own boats, and they all strictly adhere to resting on the Sunday. The English fishermen are not their own masters, and must go to sea when they get orders. When I was at any of the Scotch fishing stations, I took it as a matter of course that there would be no fishing on Sunday. At Yarmouth we held our outside meeting on the quay on the Sunday afternoon. In going to the place of meeting it was quite a common thing to pass English boats, at which they were busy discharging fish. It occurred to me then that it would not be surprising though some of the Scotch boats gave way and fell into line with the English boats; but not one of them did so, so far as I know. One week I thought that the temptation for the Scotch to depart from their ordinary rule was a bit strong. That week all the boats went out on Monday as usual, and came in with a considerable quantity of fish on Tuesday. But on Tuesday the wind rose to something like a gale, and no boats could get out. The wind did not fall till Saturday, so there was no more fish landed that week. The wind fell on Saturday. But to go out on Saturday meant that you would be discharging fish on Sunday. All the English boats put out to sea on Saturday when the wind fell, but not a single Scotch boat left its berth. On Sunday as we went to our open-air meeting, tons of fish were being discharged from the English boats, but I did not hear any remark in regard to it from a Scotch fisherman, nor did they seem the least inclined to depart from strictly observing the day of rest. I have already spoken of how the Scotch fishermen are paid, and I have no doubt that that does more than make up for any loss they have in strictly observing the day of rest.

After the fishing was over at Yarmouth, when I had been a few days at home, I again went north among the fishermen, and, beginning at Buckie, I preached in the fishing towns of that district. Putting all this together I was at that time for the greater part of a year among the fisher-people. Though I had been in a number of different places, I was to a considerable extent preaching to the same persons all the time.

I was impressed then, and I am of the same opinion still, that a suitable evangelist or two should all the time be doing the work which I was doing that year, and hope that what I have just said does not convey the idea to any one that when there is no evangelist at these places I have mentioned, our brethren do no preaching there. That would be a long way from being true. There are some good preachers among our fishing brethren, they are faithful, fearless men, who do not shrink from declaring all the counsel of God, so far as they know it, and do so when they have an opportunity; all the same, a suitable evangelist is a great help to them. I have now, perhaps, devoted enough space to my work among the fisher-people.

I can hardly take leave of the north without naming some of the small inland Churches which I had the pleasure of visiting. I have been a number of times with the little Church at Cairnie, and I have always had very great pleasure in being there. The Church meets in the large kitchen at Bro. Wilson's farm. There is no village near; farm houses and crofters' homes contain the sparse population of the district. And yet I have often, on cold winter nights, with the ground covered to a considerable depth with snow, spoken to packed meetings in that large kitchen. You wondered where the people came from, and you had great pleasure in speaking to them. All these people came by invitation, which meant a lot of labour to the little Church there - to the Wilson family in particular. I have already stated that my pleasure in helping a little Church is, and has always been, greater than in helping a large Church.

I have been a few times to the little Church at Craigston. The last time I was there the Church was meeting in a little hall at the mill of Craigston. Like Cairnie, there is not even a village where the Church meets, and, again like Cairnie, I have sometimes been surprised at the meetings I got there. It is not far from Banff to Craigston, but one of my journeys from the one place to the other has impressed itself upon my memory. You have to go up a hillside from Banff Bridge to Banff Bridge Station. But that day the wind was strong enough to propel you up the incline. It was a keen frost and a good deal of snow on the ground. A young man who assists his father at the mill, a son of Mr. Morrison of the mill of Craigston, met me with a sledge at the nearest railway station. A vehicle on wheels would not have been of much use on the road we had to travel. He provided me with a cap which had laps to tie down over my ears. I placed my hat down in the body of the sledge, where I considered it would be quite safe, and we set off for Craigston. I have seldom been out in such a wind. It sometimes looked as if it would lift both horse and sledge. It swirled my hat out of the bottom of the sledge, and sent it whirling up a field over the deep snow. It was caught in a hedge near a farm, a field length away. I should never have thought of going after that hat; it was too much to pay for a hat. Young Mr. Morrison would not go on without it, however, and set out after it and brought it back. It was no child's play, I assure you. With a man and a horse that knew their business, we got to the mill of Craigston without further mishap. Round the cheerful fire, amidst the intelligent conversation of Brother and Sister Morrison and family, we soon forgot the storm which was raging without. This was on a Saturday; on Lord's Day morning, a greater portion of the members than I expected, assembled for worship and Breaking of Bread. The wind had gone down by that time, and the young man who had brought me from the station the day before volunteered to go round the neighbourhood and invite the people to a meeting in the evening, it I would address them. I gladly consented. I was surprised that any one should attempt the task of going round the neighbourhood, and I did not expect that many would venture out through the snow. But the hall was well filled in the evening, nearly as many women as men, and it was abundantly evident that many of them had come through snow about knee-deep. You could not help having a deep interest in addressing a meeting which had been got up under such circumstances. Like my visits to Cairnie, I always enjoyed my visits to Craigston.

I have given more space to the north than I intended, but I must briefly notice other two places before I leave it. I have been a few times to Aberchirder, a clean, compact little burgh, lying about eight miles from Banff and nearly as many miles from a railway station. When there I was generally the guest of our late Brother and Sister Auchinachie, and that was always a treat. They were both very intelligent, and deeply interested in religious matters. Bro. Auchinachie was somewhat slow to speak, though he could not be said to speak slowly. He thought quickly and clearly and acted promptly. He had a well-stored mind and a large and carefully selected library; his conversation was always profitable. He was a wise, fatherly guide to the little Church there. Once or twice I was driven by Bro. Munro of Banff from there to Aberchirder on the Sunday morning and back again in the evening. To drive is often a pleasure when the weather is passable, and the horse is equal to its work; but when you sit and pity the poor horse all the time, it is rather a painful sensation. Bro. Munro's mare tended to make driving a pleasure. She required no urging, seemed all the time to be going quite easily, so easily that it did not strike you that you were going quickly; all the same, she quietly passed every other thing of the same kind going in the same direction. I was driven a number of times by Bro. Munro, and each time I had the same impression. Bro. Munro was at that time Provost of Banff, and Bro. Auchinachie was Provost of Aberchirder. I feel inclined to mention this, as it is seldom that a strolling preacher like myself is driven by one Provost to be the guest of another.

I have also visited the town of Elgin a few times. That is a harder field for us to work than any of the others I have mentioned in the north. Where the bulk of the people are made up of the better sort of the working class, the Gospel of Christ is more likely to take effect. Above or below that line you have harder work, and a considerable portion of the town of Elgin is above or below that line. When I first went there I had a very willing helper in Bro. James Tulloch, now in South Africa. He never failed you; to the extent of his ability you could count upon him. I was nearing the end of my first visit before I made the acquaintance of Bro. Hay, who has had the heaviest part of the burden to bear there for a number of years. All honour to the men who hold the fort under such circumstances. We hope that the sowing there may yet produce a harvest. I have been a number of times there, but I have never been able to give the help I could have wished. I am very deeply convinced that God will richly bless the men who fight those uphill battles.