Courts, and to keep the subject in the view of my people, yet the controversy became to me extremely unpleasant; and, strange as it may seem, I sought refuge from it in a course of study altogether unconnected with its immediate bearing.. I was all the while, however, . . . determined to stand or fall by the principles I had conscientiously espoused, leaving events to God. tore. ... "I was perfectly aware that a considerable number of my people favoured the cause to which I adhered; but I did not expect that more than a small section of them would take the decisive step of seceding from the Established Church along with me. I had even some doubts whether it would be practicable or expedient to form a Free Church congregation in KinBut these unworthy misgivings were speedily dissipated. The event showed that I did my people great injustice in the opinion I had formed of them. I shall never forget the feelings I experienced on first entering the Farmers' Hall, in which we held our meetings for public worship till the new church was erected. Mrs. Simpson had been taken ill that Sabbath morning, and I felt very much the want of her cheering support in the trying duties of the day. I therefore left the manse with inexpressible sadness of heart. Such was my extreme depression of spirits that I fancied I derived strength and encouragement from the presence even of my two eldest children [both under ten years of age], whose little hands I grasped with eagerness as I walked along. But, oh, how my almost fainting heart was revived and sustained when I surveyed the interesting assembly, and saw so many of those of my former flock, whom I loved most dearly, seated around my humble pulpit, and bending on me intent looks of the tenderest attachment and kindest sympathy. The only tears I shed in connection with the Disruption burst from my eyes at this moment, and they were not tears of grief, but of lively gratitude and joy.' Even in localities where the Free Church proved to be exceptionally strong, that Sabbath morning was a time of anxiety and misgiving, as may be seen from the experience of Mr. Craig of Rothesay : * Dis. Mss., Dr. Simpson, Kintore, pp. 2, 3. "The parish manse of Rothesay stands on the slope of a hill by the side of the road, called the Minister's Brae. . . . It looks across the valley in which the town is situated. . . . From the upper windows a fine view is obtained of the entire town and bay, . . . the entrance to the Kyles of Bute, and their varied and attractive scenery. It is surrounded by trees, all of which were planted by Mr. Craig, among which he had often walked with delight, pruning-knife in hand, and enjoying instructive, playful, and exhilarating conversation with a friend. Each of them might almost be looked on as an old acquaint ance. . . . "The parish church is situated about a mile out of town, at the lower end of Loch Fad. . . . The road that conducts to it from the town resembles an avenue, a row of elegant trees lining it all the way. Arrangements had been made for conducting worship, on the first Sabbath after Mr. Craig's return, in the Gaelic Church. Its accommodation was small, but it was not known to what extent the congregation might assemble round their minister on this occasion. It was known that at least a few decided and faithful witnesses would be found, true to their principles and true to their friend. Sabbath, 4th June, was a calm and lovely day. The sun shone bright and clear. The air was balmy and pure. Scarcely a breath of wind was felt, or the slightest rustling of the foliage observable. The bay was still and peaceful as a lake. "As he was wont, Mr. Craig left the manse about half-anhour before the time of beginning public worship. It is scarcely possible for any one who has not passed through a similar experience and mental state to enter into the feelings of a minister's heart on such an occasion as this. He has left for God's and conscience' sake the place wherein he has proclaimed for years the grand doctrines of salvation to a large and affectionate congregation. He has cast himself on the care of a gracious and loving Providence, not knowing what shall befall him. Principles are at stake, a testimony for which is to be lifted up, and in the defence of which, for the Lord's sake and their own, he would be joined, if possible, by those whose happiness is dear to him as his own soul. The hour of trial is come. He may have his misgivings. Who are the faithful ones? How many will be on the Lord's side? Like Eli of old, trembling for the ark, his heart trembles for the honour of his Lord. If that be evidently safe, all selfish considerations entirely laid aside, he is happy and glad. Some such emotion as this may have passed through his mind on the present occasion. "For many years past, a long continuous stream of men and women and children was to be seen each Sabbath morning wending their way solemnly and thoughtfully along the road, literally as in the case of Israel, 'going up to give thanks unto the Lord.' The minister walks down the avenue from the manse, and goes out upon the highway. Not a creature is to be seen. A single remark is made to his friend accompanying him, and then he is silent. Passing onward, he reaches the High Street, and changing his usual route-formerly to the left -he turns down to the right. A solemn silence reigns. Not a human being has yet been seen. Into what channel has the usual stream been directed? There are to be few in church to-day-the next corner will disclose something surely,' and again all is silence. Not a word is spoken. The mental excitement is intense. Curiosity is fully awakened. Hope has been wound up to the highest pitch. The given spot is reached, and the discovery is now to be made. He turns off to the left, and at right angles to the High Street. Now a cheering sight greets the eye and fills the heart with devoutest gratitude to God. A dense multitude crowds round the door of the Gaelic Church, vainly expecting admittance to what was already a packed house. The lobbies, the passages, the pulpit stairs, all are filled. Every inch of standing room is occupied. His former beadle, John Macdonald, is waiting to attend him as usual. The greater number of his attached elders surround him as usual. His congregation, too, is there much as usual. With great difficulty, from the density of the crowd, the pulpit is reached. After praise, prayer, and the reading of the Word, in all which exercises his own spirit was deeply moved, he discoursed with remarkable unction and power to the joy and edification of his people, from Psalm cxxvi. 3: The Lord hath done great things for us, whereof we are glad.' This was indeed a day never to be forgotten. There was not a little of the Spirit's presence and the Spirit's power, and thus began his ministry in the Free Church of Scotland."* In connection with the services of that day, there occurred in one of the northern parishes a remarkable interposition of Providence, which must have made a deep impression on the surrounding population. "At Rosehall, Sutherlandshire, the Established Church fell in on the first Sabbath after it had been vacated by the congregation. The whole area and pulpit were covered with slates, stones, and rubbish, which must have occasioned much loss of life if the congregation had been assembled, the church having fallen during the hours of the usual Sabbath service." + It was one of those incidents which might not unnaturally have been viewed as ominous of evil, and interpreted by some to the disadvantage of the Established Church. But apart from all such views, the people had great reason for thankfulness to God on account of that providential care which had permitted them to worship in safety in their parish church up to the time when, under a sense of duty, they had been compelled to assemble elsewhere. Such an event in the history of the parish could not fail to leave a deep impression behind it. *Memorials of the Rev. R. Craig, pp. 216-220. XIII. THE PREACHING OF CHURCHES VACANT. AFTER the removal of a minister by death or otherwise, the custom in Scotland is, that a member of Presbytery is sent on an early Sabbath to preach the church vacant, as it is termedthat is, to read at the close of the usual service a formal document announcing the vacancy. At the Disruption there was, of course, much of this kind of work to be done, and, not unfrequently, it was carried out under somewhat remarkable circumstances. The difficulty in some cases was to get together an audience sufficient to witness the ceremony. At Langton, in Berwickshire, when Dr. Brown left, the member of Presbytery who came to preach, found it impossible to get a single parishioner to listen to him, and it was believed that he had to return without holding any service, or even reading the intimation at the church. What made the matter more noticeable was the circumstance, that a proclamation of banns had to be made that day, and the session-clerk found that no witnesses could be got to go near the church till the people had made sure that the representative of the Presbytery had fairly left the village, and was well on his way home. At Bolton, in East-Lothian, when the day came, Mr. Abernethy was on his deathbed. The Presbytery had selected for the work one who formerly had professed non-intrusion principles. He "put the horse into the stable, and went to the minister's room to announce his mission. He then proceeded to the church, but the bell-man and precentor were absent, and not one individual appeared. In this extremity, he invited the hinds of a neighbouring farmer to be witnesses that the church was declared vacant, but they refused to come. He then insti |