IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 l^illlllM 12,5 13^ m 1^ 1.4 |||20 1.6 % <^ /2 /y O e/y. ■% Photographic Sciences Corporation #^ % V \ \ % V 6^ '^'b" 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (7»6) 872-4503 M V ^ . Hy JOHN BEATTIE CROZIKR (,4uthoro1 "Civilization arcl rroRrcss"). EXTRACTS l-ROM PRESS NOTICES:- The Atlieiueniii says: "Of Mr. Crozier's masterly insight into the true bearing of grtat intellectual systems, and of their relation one to another, it is ditticult to speak too highly, and yet the skill with which 5ie has marsliHlled his facts, and the unfal- tering precision and lucidi;y of his laiit;uiige, always dignified and often eloquent, are no less f.dmiiable ... If the first volume of this scliemo may i)e accepted as a fair specimen of what the whole is to be, the Enf,iish philosophical literature will be the richer by a work of rare ability." The S2)ect Mi MY INKER LIFE BKING A CIIAPTKR IN Personal Evolution and Autobiography. BY JOHN BEATTIE CKOZIER. Author of 'History of Intellectual Development: ' Civilization and Prof/resn,' dr., dte. LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO 39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON "' NEW YORK AND BOMBAY 1898 ^-^sammw^^msF^mv^m^^^m^ CT /)3 147230 MMAimtAAillM) TO MY WIFE, vrithout whose loyal and untiring co-operation and encouragement continued through twenty- one years of a happy married life, my books could not have been .vritten i dedicate This Volume. 1 PREFACE. IT would liivvc heon inoro ai)|)n.i)niito ;iiul hocoinincr, perhaps, liiul this Aut(>l)i()oi-„p!,y, if p„hlish(Ml at all, boon defemMl to a iatei- po.iod of my life, hut a threatonod fiiiluro of oyosijrht luiH loft 1.10 no altoraativo. In tlio uiK-ertahity as to my hJn^r al)l(! to (!ontinue the i-csearoh necossaiy for tlio remaining? volnuios of my ' History of Jntollectnal Development,' I felt that the central ci.apters of this work in which I trace the evohition of Modern Thought down to the in-escnt day, would sufficiently represent my views of tliis portion of the subject to give some kind of unity to the wliole, in case the lartaiirs' — My Love of Pigeons. .... 7.")-79 CHAPTER X. A ^IiDNUiiiT Camtaion. The Old ' Red-wing ' Fantail — News of Fancy Pigeons — How were they to be had ? — Plan of Attack — I'he Start — In the Harn — An Accident — Panic — Return — The 0»vner — My Mother's Horror — A Breach of Honour. . . ' . . 8<)-9;t CHAPTER XI. M\ UxcLi-: Jamks. His Arrival in the Village — Acconi]ilishnients — I'ridein ' tlie Mathematics' — Effect of Drink — Enthusiasm for Newton — Boasting. n. 94-101 He leaves us — My Mother's Anxiety — My Uncle at the Public House — He discusses Colenso — • Not a Single Glass.' . . 101-10 and ^'^'■•^"°^"gy V.'u.hlH CHAPTER H. Tin; >L\\ WITH Tin; Bout-jack. .My Fear of Him— Our First .fleeting— A Strange .Malady-My Visit to Ihs Hermitage— His Ingenuity in the Defence of Phienoloiry— His hne Influence on ile— How Concjuer Vanity'/ . . Vj!)-].-,7 1 had P. 'I'll no Visions— Old Harabbas like no other robbe CHAPTER HI. Religion. ssocialious of Sundav- -Bible Repelleil Me i.")K-h;2 ( HAPTER IV. Pal'se What was Evolution to me '/-Phrenology and Metaphysics-Ban of Phrenology enness KJ.'MOG pf. Xll. SUMMARY OF CHAPTERS. CHAPTER V. A Revivai- Episodk. Amenities of Revival Preachers — ' Conversion ' of the Old ' Elder " — I Remained Unmoved 1 — My Priend's ' Conversion ' — I Question Hint — Brain or Holy Ghost V — ^ly Friend's Doubts— ' Look at the Cross' — Loss again of Belief . .... 1G7-17.') CHAPTER Vr. Evolution not to be Jumped. Butler's Analogy— Buckle, no effect on me. Why?— Mill on Sir W. Hamilton— Could not Understand Carlyle's 'Sartor,' nor Emerson — The Country Parson suited me !— Different Kinds of Insight- Henry Ward Beecher's Sermons. . . . 17G-I84 CHAPTER YII. A Change ok Method. Books never my Mainstay — The Inmr Consciousness my Standi)oint — Reading Characters at the Engineering ^V^orks I — My Different Method; its Importance. .... 186-18H CHAPTER Via. A Law ok the Mind — What is it? Comparison with Law of Physical Nature — Threads of Relation between Feelings — Why Metaphysics and Phrenology cannot give it — What Constitutes a Law of the Mind— Othello's sudden I'lansitious — Comi»arison with Balance of Body by Muscles — Only to be tletermined horn within — My Standpoint and Method. . . I'.H'-IIH) CHAPTER IX. The Bueakdown of Phkenology. I leave my Phrenological Friends behind— My Visit to the New York Phrenologist — Why 1 treat of Phrenology here — What ' Causality ' really depends on — A Form of ' Observation ' merely — \\'liat ' Language ' dei)ends on — What Comparison de[)end8 on — Relation between Thought and Feeling. . . . 2UU-'J0H SUMMARY OF CHAPTERS. xm. CHAPTER X. The Powek of Language. y\y New ^lethod of lavestigation-^Deficiency in Knowledge of Wonls— Why Study ot Classics had not Remedied it— How we Plodded through Horacj and Cicero — Tiie Way History was Taught — (Hooray Winter's noo awa'— I read Addison — Washington Irving— Pickwick delights me—' Old Uncle Ned '— ' Crabbe's Synonyms.' 209-218 CHAPTER XI. Mv Uncle again. Not so Interesting when Sober — ' Hen-pecked-you-all ' — ' Vast,' 'Profound' ' Genius '—Dr. Chalmers' ' ( )ratory '— His disgust at my waste of time — Why not go into Medicine? . . 219-22:1 CHAPTER XI l. TiiK University. The Medical School— The Professors— Tlie Lectures— Teaching of Anatomy—' Like Corpses on a Battlefield '—Tlie Students— Literary Set; four all told— My most intimate friend M.— How the ' Personal Equation ' came in— Fate and Us. , . 224-2;);> CHAPTER XIIL PUOFESSOUS. Shaksi)eare Analyzed— A 'Metaphor,' 'a Simile '—Kant's Critique of Pure Reason — A Carding Machine. . . . 2;54-2;)8 CHAPTER XIV. A New Horizon. Effect of New Environment— Passion for Light on Problem of the NN'orld —'Vestiges of Creation '—Darwin's ' Origin of Species"—' Natural Selectioa' not enough — Huxley's Lay Sermons and Addresses— Sl>encer'8 ' First Principles '—His Picture of the Evolution of the Universe — The Persistence of Force — Reconciliation between Religion and Science — His ' Principles of Psychology ' upsets this reconcilir.tion— Two effects on me— Why I determined to come to London. ..... 2;}9-248 XIV. SUMMARY OF CIIAPTEUS. li ' PART II.-ENGLAND. BOOK I.-THE LOST IDEAL CHAPTKR I. IlKUBKItT Sl'EXCKR. r start for England — My search for the Irleal — A Cloud — The wreck of tlie Ideal — Why Spencer's Doctrine killed the Ideal — Sumni; • ■ of iiis explanation of Origin of Mind — Two Special Points — Wliat I was not prepared to admit — Difference l>etween UUjh and low requires no Deity — S|)encer's Natural J)efect8 — His Greatness — His Mcthotf the Secret of his Fallacies. .... 251-20:5 CHAPTET? H. AUISTOCKACY AND I)KMOfl!ACV. I laud in Glasgow — My Surprise at Coldness of Fellow Students — Characteristics of Democracies — What Aristocracies pride themselves on— ^' Damned Intellect' despised — The 'Gentleman' their Ideal — Counting the Potatoes — English \v'^orking-man suprised me — 'I'aking 'tips' — Immortality of Soul — The Negro. . . 2(U-i'7.'> CIIAPTElt III. Mkdicine. My mind beat on the practical — Medicine compared with Philosophy — New generalizations few and far between — I refuse a Consulting Practice — Interested in plinsiof/iiomi/ of disease— Old and youDg idiysiciaus — The Baconian method — The scientific army and its generals — Medicine no use for the mind in heallli — Fine mental discipline — Dependence of thought on physical states — Elfect of medicine on Ideal — Beauty under the microscope— Gloom — I start practice ....... 27f!-2)S.S PART Il.-BOOK Il.-THE SEARCH FOR THE LOST IDEAL. CHAPTER I. MACAtLAY. lay siege to the problem of Life — The Essayists — Macaulay and Mystery— His lack of the higher sympathies — His estimate o^ Bacon — Platitudes — Strange theory — Style comjiared with Shakspeare. Carlyle, Emerson — Want of shatling — His trumpet ])fals — My favourite passages — The mind makes its own world . 291-.")fl.'» SUMMARY OK ClIAPTKltS, XV. CHAPTER II. A Falsi; Staut. I)e Qiiincey com]tare(l with iMui-aulay— Hazlitt as a critio— Liiiiitiition of interest affects style— Introduces me to Elizal)ethan Dramatists Favourite quotations— lieaumont and Fletcher — Shaksjieare -I turn to the Historians— No unity— Xo help from the I'oets or Novelists :;(i4-:;i5 CHAPTEK III. AxciiixT i'lin.osoi'iiv. I study the ancient Syatems—Why I jwhs over the ' Middle Ages ' — Head the Moderns — Ski)» Comte, Schopenhauer, and Hejfel--riato"s Cosmogony — Relation Itetween Scheme of the World and our jiractical beliefs — The Catholic Ciiureh : its ^losaic founilation, I'latonic dome, and Slirine — Tiie figure of Plato — Scientific dis- coveries — Fall of Platonic Cosmogony — Use of Relics— Philosophy has to loan on Church . . . . . .">1 ()-:!:>;> CIIAPTEPv IV. SoMi; (Ienkkai, Coxsidkraiions. How our Ideals are determined — Literary criticism and Word-mongering — Pathos of Shakspeare and of Carlyle — Sublimity and intensity of Milton and Dante— Importance of Cosmogony — Can Modern Philosophy furnish foothold for Ideal V — Ajiologists on 'evidences' — Philoso]>hers in search of the Ideal — Repelled by the • tone " of tiie Apologists ...... ;)iM-;);i(> CIIAPTEi: V. MODKRX MKTArilYSICS. Tile search for the Ideal— The Faculty of Knowledge — How Descartes, (ieuliux. and Malebranche demonstrated the existence of (iod — Spinoza falls into Atheism— The Metaphysicians take up the Problem — The two Schools — Leibnitz — His spiritual 'monads' — Ea.sy for Idealists to find (Jod in the ^lind — Materialists and the Church — Soul and Immortality gone — Kant finds Ood in the Conscience — Fichte loses Kant's new-found Ideal — Jacolii stumbles on important truths— He scandalizes orthodox School — Resume — Schelling diffeis from Ficlite and Kant — How he failed to explain his Ai)solute Being — Hegel t^ikes up the problem — Takes his stand on the Self- consciousness — Difference from Kant — ' The Xotion ' — ' A state of being' — His system and Herbert Spencer's — Hegel's Trinity— 1 1 is Deity — ^The Materialists |)ull it all down again — Sj)encer and rwe utility — Church ami Philoso])hy a pair of cripples— Hume and tlie mm XVI. SUMMARY OF CHAl'TBRS. lUuminati — A curious result of iuetaj)hy8ical speculation — High qualities merely /«»•«« of low — False method — Schopenhauer's stand- j)oint — Nearly a Poetic Thinker— Schopenhauer's Will and its instiuments — Ideal a mere beggar's banijuet — To rid oneself of tlie world — Sink into Nirvana — Von llartinann — Metaphysical Specula- lation reaches its end ..... ;{.'Jl-.'504 (JIIAFlKll VI. Criticisms and Conci.isioxs. Why the Metaphysicians disappointed me — Like boys picking a watch to pieces— Their analysis of reverence, love, and beauty— They construct a false eye — A central truth which they ignore — Easy for >ietivphysicians to pass from Real to Ideal — Hegel tries to throw a bridge across — Why I set aside the Metaphysicians — What definite coiK'lusions I had come to : Mind as a whole the true organon— How to find the ideal : 1 turn to the Poetic Thinkers . . ;!(!5-;575 CIIAPTEIl VII. A VISIT TO Carlyle. Effect on mo as a Colonial, of I^atter Day Pamjihlets — Carlyle's denunciations of the Political Economists — His Style repels me — His moral stiindpoint too high for me — How he found the lost Ideal — My difficulty a different one — I decide to go and see him — His portraits not like him— His conversation astonishes me— His opinions of Mill, Buckle, Spencer — His remarks on Christianity — The true Carlyle — Origin of his diatribes — On ages of transition . ;!7()-;i!);! CHAPTER VIII. The Personal Equation. Study of Emerson — Key to his system— Why Emerson suited ine better than C'arlyle — Goethe's special doctrine — Why neither Carlyle nor I'hnerson could appropriate it— His realism disgusts me — Bacon as a Poetif' Thinker — Newman's piety rei)el8 me — My ' j)er8onal equation ' . . . . ... . .■)y4-410 E s CHAPTER IX. The Poetic Thinkers. Can man explain Universe ? — Neither Spencer nor Hegel can find the key— Poetic thinkers do not attempt it (Bacon, Goethe, Carlyle, Emerson, Newman) — The mind as a whole as organon — ' Personal equation ' of these thinkers . . . .411 -4:^0 SUMMARY Of riIAl»T£RS. XVU. CHAPTER X. My CoNTRinuTiON. Poetic Tl.inkers fail to give me a practiml solution of World- problem— I heir view of the mind-I at last find the Ideal in the mind-The ' beale in the Mind '--No room for Atheism— My six truths not to l.e known by Science— Science not the orjfanon— How Hnd the Ideal in the m>rW?-Evil miah..olHtc~^ Natural Selection.' Romanes and Natural Selection— Ascendin- tendencies of the World and of the Mmd-Unity of Plan-How I find the Z)/r/nr-Hegel, Goethe, Emerson, and Carlyle's conception of the Deity— My conception- Hegel's jump from material to mental categories— My own life's- ^"^"^ 427-457 PART Il.-BOOK Ill.-LITERARY EXPERIENCES. CHAPTER I. Mv FiHST Attempt. Scotland-The I^Mitor's Box-Carlyle's advice— The Magazines— ]VIy round of men of eminence— Their bewilderment !— God or Force— At last I get it published— Represent*itive thinkers— What 1 learned by failure in getting a hearing— My essay on • Constitution of the World —Essays on Herbert Spencer, Carlyle, and Emerson- The right time for a new standpoint -Martineau, Huxley, Tyudall, Emerson, Carlyle, Darwin— Disappointment . . 461-478 CHAPTER II. Civilization. Differences between Carlyle and Emerson on Civilization— My Equip- ment for the problem— Aristocracy and Democracy compared as forwarding Civilization— Canada and England—To find tiie evolving factors— Comte and Positivists' Society—' Civilization and ^'»"«g''«««' 479-485 CHAPTER III. Stylk. AVas my style the cause of my failure V— I start to remedy the defect— Addison's ' Spectator '—The style of the future— Prose or Poetry ? —What does literary power consist inV— Kinds of pictorial power —Confusion in literary criticism .... 4«6.49y A I xvin. SUMMARY OF CIlAl'TKIiS. ClIArTKIf iV. A POIJTIC'AL InSIANCK. A|ii»eariin('c of Lord Uaiidolpli Churchill — 'I'he way the (jchIus of the \V'orl(l jfotM itH fiuls — Democracy tiiid Aristocracy coiiiiiarcd -Doi'h Aristocracy winnow reputations V — Rise of the Demajjogue— Rise of reputations — Effect of C'arlyle's Edinhuiyh Address — Kffect on his wife — Value of i'ress recognition — Kffect of advertisement on popularity of [ireatdiers — On actors — Un young poet — How Press hypnotized Pulilie —How Pultli(^ coirced Press — My pre- diction-Rise to power of Lord Randolph — Aly Ijook on his rise . . . . . . . . 494-501 CHAITKR V. TiiK Dakmonic Elemkkt. My l)ook too • original' — Its ahaliby api)earance — No reviews — 'The Thirty-nine ' — Refusal of space for a short review— Review in 'Spectator' at last — Mrs. Lynn l^inton's advice — A cheap edition issued — A ' record ' experience in books . . . 502-508 CHAPTER VI. Political Econo.mv. Publishers' projjosal — I read ninety volumes I — Adam .Smith — Mill's • Economic Man ' — .It^vons on the ' margin of cultivation " — Ruskin : Why pay sixpence only? — Karl Marx's shibboleths — I am attracted to Henry (ieorgc — Roehm-Rawerk's criticism on Ceorge — (iluts of shirts and • bare backs ' in streets — Gunton on Distrioution— Mununery and Hobson — The work is taken out of my hands — Products should circulate like food — Mallock . . 509-517 I CHAPTER VII. AlTOniOtiKAl'HV. Why I write my autobiography— The ' personal equation ' — • Shultle the cards' ....... 518-620 CHAPTER VIII. Intkustitial Thinkkiis. Arnold on ' Culture' — The 'gentlemanly' style in literature — His con- tempt for Aliddle Class * Philistines '—His criti'usni of Comte — His want of insight in Riblical Criticism — Huxley compared with Arnold — His Biblical studies — Ilutton of the • Spectator ' — ' The SirMJIAUY OF C1IAPTEU8. xiX. |«.inl .,f a necllo ' Literary critioi8mK-J„|,„ Morli-y His lifnirv pe. .Kree-Comtc. Mill, and Murke^Wlu-re he .lifforn fro... Colale ^-L.l.t.. y a.,d oon.i..-.,...i.s..- IIiHto,-i,.a] studios -U-hUc. Stcpl.e.. • Culylos v,ow ot |,„n Jol„. Sh.a.t Mill: His ,,u,itv-Not C(.,.. pl^Ztiv^"' r^T'"" ""•";'"' '^''"^^^ f'"-.--W..nt of IIistori.-al puspixtive-A colossus with „„,■ foot o.i Ol.l World and o,.e on . 5i' I -,-);;« CM A ITER IX. lS0LA>'i0N AND DEI'ltlOSSIOX. Iht Mod.cal Councd-rntdk..tual Isolatio., --.My oninio.,8- ■ as p,.,hc .nterest in sorions literature .leclinedylrnsLces-- epre.s8,o.. - A V sion of Death - Success of ...y History _- Kecogu,t.o,. l.y the Treasury-My eyesight . ^ tv^r.^ PART I. CANADA MY INNER LIFE, IJKINO A CIIAPTEll IN PERSONAL EVOLUTION AND AUTOBIOGRAPHY. TAUT I.-CANADA. liOOK I. — BOY II GOD. the twilight of mkmokv. su:mmer. WINTEIl. A CANADIAN SAIUJATII. OUR NEIGIIHOIKS. PAINS AND PLEASUWKS. A UIIUBAIJU TAPvT. FUN AND MISCHIEF. COCKS AND PIGEONS. A MIDNIGHT CAMPAIGN. MY UNCLE .lAMES. THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL. CHAPTER I. THE TWILIGHT OP MEMORY. I "^tltl^T'l '" ?\"' V'"'"'" '■" "'" '"'■ >™" °f Ca„.d. on earii. eft" h ' 1 ^"'l^ ''*'■ ^"^ ?-""« '""• ■' fe- years xrf T ;:,"'"'■ ■" """'^ °™«"-"^ -'"' ■- "■« '»«-!' th O "^ V n ?"""' "-'-^-""l fro... tl,„ .h„,.c.s ,,1 ho ( 1,1 VVoH, .0 l,et,o,- then- fortunes i„ tho Now. My t^'tl-'; tanuly l,„d boon .ott!ed in an,I around tl.o B„„, ,. fe ' Elliots and Armstrongs Nixon s and Croziers Raid thieves a' ' "f 'l-.«^ anclon, ,,udo,-« who by thoh- fonds and f„n,v, h,d "" "Inch , boy sot out for America. Af.o,- a Ion. and L™v -yago tboy ..oaohed ti.o sho... „f Canada in ^ " y Zal ■"'-..>. "f tho o„„„t..y„t las, brought then, .„ ftdt, at that :otc,i sottloment only i-ocentiv ro,.l„i,„„,l t ation time th or fo.n.T , , , ^°»ta,na„g a population probably of three o. four hundred souls. After takin.. u» th.;rnl..i„ ig up their abode for a time 4 THE TWILIOIIT OF MKMOUY. in SI little log cabin on the margin of the pine woods where the howling of the wolves alone broke the silence of the night, and shifting thence to other the like quartan's as necessity or convenience determined, my father at last was able as his affairs became more prosperous to build for himself a home in the village — a low, one storied house, making up in length for what it lost in height, and with stone walls as thick sis a citadel — and in this house nine years after their first arrival in the country I had the good or evil fortune to be born. I was the youngest of five children all of whom except an elder sister died in infancy and before my birth. While I was still a child my father was seized with consumption, and the fell disease after lingering for a time in uncertainty, at last hastened its ravages and before I was three and a half years of age it had snatched him from our household, leaving my mother to face the world with my sister and myself dependent on her, and with no means of subsistence but the few |)ounds saved by my father, together with the house and a small plot of ground. My Mother, although over fifty years of age at the time of which I am writing, was a woman of magnificent physique and extraordinary physical vitality, erect and columnar as a statue of Minerva, her head, hands and feet small, but with neck and shoulders massive and finely ijroportioned. In mind she was simple and guileless as a child, her whole aim in life being to keep free from debt, to save intact the little capital which my father had left her, and to bring u[) her (children in the fear and ac^.nonition of the Lord. Her one book was the Bible, her one place of resort the Kirk, her one object of reverence the Minister, her one object of awe the Kirk-Elder. She mixed little with her neighbours, and amidst the varied dialects of the colonists among whom she had lived for so many years she still reverted in moments of excitement to the broad accent of her native land. For many years she was my sole companion (niy sister wlio was some years my senior having interests and com- panions of her own), but owing to my rcgardlessncss as she called THE TAVILIOHT OF MEMORY. it, my tlisobediencc, lovt »f mischief, and general pagan absorption in tlic things of this workl, I must during all those years have grieved her good heart more than enough. We were always <]uarrelling and making it up again ; but with it all, the fear of losing her in one of the attaeks of palpitation to which she was subject, was the standing anxiety of my boyhood. Of the few reminiscences of my childhood, the sweetest and most rose-coloured are of the visits which in summer time I made with her to friends living in the little houses and farm- steads surrounding the village. On these occasions we usually started out in the early afternoon after dinner, returning in the (;ool of the evening and carrying with us baskets or cans which we brought home laden with flowers, fruit, new milk, and the like. These little outings were all more or less alike in character but there was one which especially delighted me and which stamped itself on my imagination with an impress which I still retain. This Avas our annual visit to my aunt — my mother's sister — who since her husband's death had been living all alone in a little log cabin by the road-side in the middle of the dense [)iiie forest surrounding the village. A few years before my j)arents' arrival in the country, the wliole region of country round about was one dense forest of pine and maple and elm shelving down the hills on either side to the margin of the river that ran thrt)ugh the centre of the valley on which the village afterwards stood, and peopled only by Indian trappers and hunters, to whom in early days it had been granted as a reser- vation by the Crown. When I was a boy, nearly all that portion of the forest that lay in the valley flanking the river on either side had been cut down as the village grew, but it still reached forward to the brow of the surrounding hills where its tall (lark pines continued in my boyhood to frown over the village in the evening twilight like dour and dusky sentinels. On the side of the river on which my aunt lived, however, the wood had been cut back from the l)r<)w of the hill for a distance of about hftlf a mile, and was marked off from the portion 6 THE TWILIGHT OF MEMOUY. intervening and now under cultivation by a sharp clean cut margin, standing out against it, as one approached, like tlie uncut portion of a field of corn. It was on the side of the road leading through this wood, and about half a mile from where it entered the forest, that the little log cottage in which my aunt lived lay embosomed aniong tlic surrounding pines. I still remember our setting out from home on the sultry summer afternoons beneath the burning sun, — I cleanly and neatly dressed in loose tartnn jacket with belt and big brass buckle on which a bear or wolf's head was embossed ; my mother with her parasol, black bonnet, and dress of some thin black shiny material spotted and inter- spersed here and there with white. We usually proceeded leisurely and by easy stages on foot, wending our way up the hill side and onwards along the road to the wood ; my mother with her parasol up, and keeping close to the shadow of the high board fence, while I trotted along by her side or scampered off in front of her. Occasionally she would sit down to rest awhile in the shade of the fence, while I disdainful of the sun ranged about ahead of her looking out for nests or watching the move- ments of the birds and scjuirrels. When at last we came up to the entrance to the wood and passed within its grateful shade, we would usually sit down a second tiujc to rest ; my mother's conversation Avhicli up to this ])oint had been strictly mono- syllabic, now becoming more free and unrestrained, although still preserving its neutral character and confined to the heat, the flies, the prospect of rain, and the like ; or witli pathetic reference perhaps to the good firewood in the shape of fallen branches lying scattered around and going to waste and decay I As avc sat there I can still see the caloric rising in shinnncrinjj wavelets from the burning road along which we had just [)assed, and the long-tailed squirrel oppressed by the breathless heat hop})ing lazily along tlie top of some irregular rail-fence bounding a distant coi'nfield. And as I listened to the pine tops waving in the clear blue sky above me, to the confused hununing of innu- merable insects from the wood, to the solitary ta[)i)ing of the THE TWILKJIIT OF MEMOllY. lonely woodpecker on the trunk of some distant tree, or peered into the dai'kening recesses of the forest enveloped in gloom even at noonday, a feeling of far off intangible beanty strangely mingled with awe, would come over me as 1 sat by my mother's side ; a feeling which has ever since remained with me, and which I can still in imagination in a measure reproduce. As we walked uj) the gentle ascent of the road through the wood and ncared the cottage, my aunt pleased and surprised at our approach would come out to meet us, her face beaming with a mild delight ; and throwing aside the work she happened to have in hand, \k'ould at once make preparations for tea ; while I went prying about in the little garden adjoining the house, picking and eating apples and currants and pears, listening to the cawing of the rooks, or peei'ing through the fence in conscious security into the wood beyond, which however 1 was too frightened to enter alone. We usually remained till late in the afternoon, and when the high pines had ceased to throw their shadows across the glowing road, and the dusky evening had settled on the woods, we would start again on our homeward journey ; my aunt accompanying us a little way down the descent from the cottage. When we parted from her and got farther along our winding way, my bright wonder of the afternoon would be all exchanged for a vague chilly fear; instead of skipjjing in front of my mother I would draw close to her side, holding by her dress, castiny; half friijhtened ijhiuces into the ji^loomv darkness of the wood now all hushed on each side of us, but in which bears and wolves were occasionally still to be found, and conjuring up vague images of unknown terrors which pressed on my young* heart until we got into the open again. These vague and unpleasant feelings would still continue more or less to accompany me as I went chattering along the road by my mother's side until we arrived at the brow of the hill overlook- ing the village, when the cheerful laughing voices of the boys playing on the village green below, would bring back the lively and comforting sense of eompani(mship with the world again — I i n fc Ki HIJ M I I ! 6 THE TWILKJHT OF AlEMOUV. a feeling wliich romaiiiod with me till we reached home and the gentle twilight passed softly and not without a vague sense of infinitude into tiie peaeeful night. It was on one of tluise occasions as we were neariiijr home that I have a vivid remembrance of the sky changing, the wind beginning to rise, the lightning playing on the hills at the back of the house, and eveiything giving signs of a coming storm. When we arrived my mother went into the garden at the back to see fhat all was right for the night, and on returning HMuarked ominously in her broad Scotch vernacular and as if aring to have a game. To this rimitive and unfavourable eonditions. Our wickets were made usually <»f broomstic'ks sawed into e(|ual rcj;ulati()n lengths and sliar[)ened at the [)oints, their tops being notched for the reception (»f little pieces of twig which we used as ' bails.' The; l)alls were home-n>ade, consisting of a central nucl(!us of cork around which were disposed various layers of rags, strips of cotton, and old bits of twine, all cemented together into a hard homogeneous rotundity by means of pitch, tar, or the gummy distillations of the pine tr(!es. The ball thus prepared was then taken to the local shoemaker to be covered with leather, and was returned to us, hard, indeed, and more or less round, but standing out at the seams like mountain ranges, in iiigli embossed ridges without modesty or attempt at concealment I The bats too were usually home-made, each boy making his own for himself out of pine or beechwood, in such style and configuration as most suited his fancy. They were usually free from any attem[)t at artistic beauty, and rarely had their surfaces planed, much less varnished or even covered with a rough coating of paint; but when as sometimes happened one of the boys would bring to the field a proper bat made of willow, — light, flexible, beautifully varnished and with handle nicely wound and corded, — it was passed around among the rest of us for inspection, and handled with a species of idolatry. The ground, too, on which we played had to be sought for and found among and between the stumps that (lotted the hills, connnons, and other vacant spaces of the village. We would usually divide into parties of two on these occasions, and would scour the country in all directions like so SIMM Kit. lA ies of to be 3 tluit ■)f the these ike so iiuuiy HurveyorH; liahiii^ here and there, iiml tiiiiiiii;'- to all points of the eoinpass until we caiiie on a streteh of onxnid between the stiunp.s sutfieiently level to justify us in pitching the wickets. In those days the great English Kleven had just visited the Province, and the fame of their achievenients had spread far and wide among the boys, ' Honnd-arin ' bowling, a** it was called, was our great and»ition. and from the great difHculty of pitt'hing the l)alls straight when delivered in that way, otiercd to those who could compass it the shortest and most ccitain cut to distinction. Like the rest of the boys 1 was fired with the andjition of becoming a round arm bowler, and usehiug ott' the rocks that lined the banks of the river at ami below the dau> at the head of the village. This sport too, like cricket, had to be pursued with msiterials of a very primitive and rudimentary kind. So far as I can remember, a fishing-rod in tlie proper and accepted sense of that term, with its joints and sections and reel, and its light, lithe, and elastic struetinv, was unknown among the boys of the time. The rods; in use, or 16 SUMMER. 'polos' as they were culled, consisted originally of saplings of elm, tamarack, and cedar which grew in the woods or douse swamps in the neighbourhood of the village, and which were selected because in proportion to their length they wore either lighter and straightor, or thinner and tougher than any other wood ; the cedar and tamarack being especially light and straight, the elm and beech especially tough and thin. To obt»'n those saplings we were in the habit of going to the woods or swamps in parties of two or three, and after selecting as many as we wanted, cutting them down, and removing the smaller branches, wo would throw them over our shoulders and start again on our way homewards. When we got home wo would remove the bark and hang the poles up to dry for a time in the open air, after which they w^ere ready for use ; precautions having already been taken to remove a sufficient portion of the thin and tapering top to ensure the strength necessary to stand the dead weight and pull to which they were afterwards to be subjected. The lines we used were tied to a notch cut on the end of the ' pole,' and consisted of cording of such sti'ength and thickness, that judiciously expended from a proper reel they might have secured or impeded the escape of some of the greatest monsters of the deep I At the end of the line a hook, lai'gc, bare and ugly looking, was attached, and above tlu^ hook a ' sinker ' made of a piece of lead and welded to tlie lino, and of such size and weight that when it was thrown into the water it was like the heaving overboard of a small anchor ! The bait, too, was of the most simple character. No gaudy flies of variegated plumage, no hooks fantastically dressed with the softest tail feathers of the eagle-owl — nothing but the simple garden worm transHxed in a series of involutions by the bare and ruthless hook (on which indeed it continued to wrijrerle after beinir thrown into the water) and without further effort at conceal- ment. The spot usually selected by us for fishing was the comparatively still water which eddied back into the side of SUMMER. 17 the bank just below the dam ; and here in the evening after school hours some eight or ten of us might be seen sitting in line, ' poles ' in hand, on the perpendicular rocks overhanging the water, watching the old bottle-corks wiiich we used for floats, with a keen and absorbing interest. Nor in the fishing to which we were accustomed was it essential to success that we should continually thrash the water with our lines as the curi'ent carried them down ; on the contrary when once the sinker was thrown in, it itself sought the bottom with such directness and precipitation, and lay there with such an evident determination not to move, that you could prop your pole between a couple of stones and go away and leave it for an hour or so, with the certainty of finding your line in precisely the same spot on your return, unmoved by wind or stream I The fish that haunted the river were freshwater fish about the size of a sea trout or very small salmon ; and were known by such homely or expressive epithets as ' suckers,* ' stone-carriers,' ' mullets,' and the like. These fish were all very bony, '^specially the nuillets, a circumstance which gave rise to the 1 pothesis by a local philosopher, that they were the last fish the Ijord had made, and that he had thrown the bones in by handfuls ! When once the bait was taken, no fine or dextrous manipulation was necessary to land the fish, no running them up and down the stream for half an hour at a stretch playing out line and taking it in again, and the whole executed with the greatest skill and caution. The line was so thick that it would not break imdcr the most extreme strain brought to bear on it (I have known one bear the strain of three boys pulling at it with all their might, when it had got stuck), and the ' poles ' although absolutely small, were '•elatively to ai; ordinary rod as the mast of some great admiral I The landing of a fish was in consequence a matter purely of what 1 have heard characterized as ' main strength tind ignorance ! ' It was raised out of the water by one long dead heave, which lifted it high into the air over the shoulder of its 11 I W ! 18 SUMMEU. captor and flung it foul against the rocks behind with such ruthless violence, as to leave one under no necessity of after- wards putting it to death. And so it went on, first one boy and then another stolidly and without sense of humour flinging the fish behind him on to the relentless rocks ; until the evening closed around and one after another picking up his own fish and slinging them on a line or piece of twig, took each his several homeward way. Personally I cared little at any time for fishing. I did not like freshwater fish as an article of diet, nor did I care for the sport in itself. When the fish were taking well and were bein<>" flunj; into the air in flijrhts on all sides of me, it soon became monotonous ; when they woirhl not take at all, it was uninteresting. Besides I was restless md kept changing my l)()sition too often, I was careless about my worms, or would go away and leave my pole propped up between two stones for too long together, and more than all when I did get a ' take ' I was so eager to secure it that I often cither missed it altogether, or pulled the hook sheer through the creature's mouth I The result as might be ex2)ected was that I was in general unsuccessful. But as is so often seen even in the smallest village, there was one boy among us who seemed to tiie rest of us to have a kind of genius for fishing. He was a negro boy who through lameness was obliged to walk with a crutch, but a boy of great humour and sagacity, one of the best scholars in the school, and much respected and even feared (for he used his crutch with eff'ect) by the rest of the boys. In order to try and divert the fish to our own hooks, we were in the habit of getting to the river before him and taking our seats in those favoured positions from which we had seen him pull them out so brilliantly ; hoping thereby that some of his luck misfht attend us. But it was of no avail. When he came too late he would sit down anywhere, laying his crutch down by his side and arranging his hooks and worms with the greatest composure ; and after we had perhaps been waiting in SUMMER. 19 vain ail tlie cvenino- fm- •^ ' k;+« ' i.^ n nn,! • K • ' ''^ '^^"^^^ presently ^ throw in ' very eyes as ,f l,o l,ad bcon on I.i, own fovomcd spot, to our .".nglcl cL,g„.t, ,u,,„i,.ati„„, a„d aosp.ir. The Jre of Z o iiic uoctnne that a rollinjr stone o-ntlipva bel.e,e, th.it ,t lay m a po,„t of disposition „,■ chan.otor and va, „w,ng to ti,o fact that ho sat so ,,uie.Iy and let fnl'l the •s„>kor' so gently that in spite of its pUe/tons si.e fish were not fr.ghtencd or disturbed; while others, a-™ „• h hat „ was beeause lus fa„,ily had nothing else to live upon i l«v,ng been reported that in the sun.mer months fish ,va he end .f not only article of food. But the truth was „ -I an he as we bked to adnn't it, that his suecess was due o K b tter know edge of the art-of how to adiust his worm o where he fish were likely to be lying, and of'how best to h^ok them when tliey had taken the bait. tmmmm m m i If! CHAPTEE III. WINTER. 'r\URING the long and frosty months of the Cunivclian -^^^ winter, the face of the country was covered with a continuous and unhroken sheeting of snow, all ajrricultural operations had in consequence to be suspended, and beyond the feeding of horses an I>(>intfl(in hoiuc instances a fjimrtcr of a imIU;) from their startini; point- — the fastest of course {^oiii;^ tjic farthest before it came to rest. Tiic boys would tl>on all walk leismely up the hill u^uin, (lra;,'jfiii<; their sleighs after them by ropes attached at each end to tho runners, and when they reached the top, after Bomc re-arran«feinent perhaps of the handi('appin this weight over the whole surface so as to subject the sleigh to the least possible amount of fricti(m from the snow. If you threw your weight too fai* forwards the front of the runner ran into the snow like a plough, if too far backwards, the back ran into it like a brake. Thei-e were two methods of riding, in the one the rider lay flat on his stomach and, as with a pair of sculls, steered by touching the points of the toes to the ground on each side as occasion required ; in the other he sat u[)right on one hip, and steered by working the free foot from side to side like a rudder, lioth methods were employed in racing according to the choice of the rider, but the first method was best for speed, as it offered less surface to the wind, and you could more equitably distribute your weight over the I 30 WINTER. f ^ entire surface of the sleigh ; the second method, riding side-saddle as it was called, was the only one that could be employed when more than one person was seated on the sleigh, a circumstance which was not unfrequent, the largest sleighs carrying sometimes as many as five or six. In these cases you sat your comp^iiion on the sleigh in front of you and let him hold the rope, as if it were a rein, in his hands, at the same time keeping his head well on one side that you might be able to see the direction in which you ^v^ere steering. Little gix'ls came out frequently to the hill either alone or with their brothers, and I well remember the little internal flutter with which we would offer them a ride, the gentleness with which we would put them on the sleigh, the swelling pride and importance with which we would steer them down the hill, and the gallantry with which instead of letting them walk we would ourselves draw them up again. CHAPTEE IV. A CANADIAN SABBATH. T TP to tins point in my history, my week-day life with its ^^ free and joyous absorption in the games and sports of boyliood, had been, in spite of the restriction put on me at home by our narrow means, a pure and undilutetl hap})ines.s — throwing off gaily all obstructions froni its path, and con- tracting no stain from its various and manifold activities. Bjit the compensation and Nemesis came Avith the Sundays, into which I was duly phmged as the weeks came round as into a bath, but which, far from purifying me, left a trail over all my boyhood, and produced lasting effects in after years. The village in which 1 was brought up was dotted on all sides for miles around with the homesteads of the farmers who in the early days of the settlement had come from Scotland with their wives and families, and hud taken up the land in freehold, brin<>:ing with them the stern Calvinism of their native land with all its harsh and gloomy traditions. The village itseif, too, had been settled and filled in largely by peojile of the same extraction, but included as well a number of English Methodists from Devon and Cornwall, speaking with strong provincial accents, and a sprinkling of Yankees ever on the wing, but bringing with them the Puritan traditions of New Kngland. The consequence was that the genius of Puritanism everywhere reigned supreme, colouring more or less perceptibly the everyday life and habits of the people, but setting its mtmmm ■BMI 32 A CANADIAN SABHATII. J' indelible seal and impress on what my mother ealled ' the Sabbath Day.' On that day all labour even to the most elementary operations of cooking was suspended or reduced to a minimum ; no sound of traffic was anywhere to be heard ; the streets were hushed and deserted ; tlie inhabitants remained within doors between the hours of service as if divine judg- ment were abroad ; and when they a})peared at church-time, walked softly along with their Bibles under their arms ; while the reverberation of the melancholy bells calling to one another from hill to valley, seemed to announce an universal expiation. On my mother's simple mind all this fell as naturally as the return of morning and evening ; to her, Sundays were in their essence holy days, and the ministers who held the key to Scripture and were believed to gather up in themselves the decrees and ordinances of God, were, like lirahmins, regarded by her as sacred. ' They arc all good men ' she used mourn- fully to say on the occasion of some revolt of mine ; and as the accredited exponents of all that pertained to religion and morals, they were believed by her to be in essential nature superior to criticism ; the only freedom of connnent she per- mitted either herself or me being such purely personal preferences as might be felt for one of their number over another. Accordingly when Sunday came round with its silence and gloom, it already found her ready to follow all its ordinances and submit to all its renunciations in a spirit of pure and simple [)iety. With myself on the other hand the eclipse of a day would under any circumstances at that time have been a real luu'dship, but the peculiar gloom and solenuiity of the special religious services through which 1 had to pass, became more and more as time went on, a personal infliction pure and xmredeenicd. The reader, therefore, will readily understand that on waking on the sunny Sunday mornings with the little birds twittcrinir on the lilac trees at the back of the house, and the smell of the ai)ple-blossoms coming through the partially opened windows, at the remembrance that it was A CANADIAN SABIJATII. 33 per- rsonal over I its ivll its •it of kI the time imnity ictiou cadily rnings [ick of rough it was Sunday tlic gloom as of souie great ordeal oppressed nic, and iu that half-conscious state hetween sleej) and wake when all sensations, but especially those of pain, are magnified, and fall, as it were, raw on the soul, without those intervening cushions which the whii-ling activities of life place between us and our sorest troubles, a confused pain as of some troubled dream would settle on my mind. When I rose and dressed, the acuteness of this feeling would pass off somewhat, leaving behind it only a general dcadness and depression as 1 realized in imagination the dreary stretch of day before me. At the breakfast-table my mother sat silent and reserved, and on her face the full solemnity of the day on which we had entered seemed to have settled with all its force. The expression she wore was not so much that of severity or of sanctity as of injury ; an expression which from long experience I knew well how to interpret, and which was intended to plainly tell me that on this day of reckoning she was feeling the weight not so much of her own (for her life was pure and guileless) as of my transgressions and sins! Accordingly whenever I ventured to ask a question or make an observation however inoffensive or neutral, she would answer me in monosyllables and in a tone of calm but injured solemnity. Evei'ywhere the house had the air as if some great expiation were going on, as if sin and guilt clung to the dooi'-posts ; and to this impression, the words of my sister as she sat rejjeating to herself aloud the lesson from the shorter catechism in a monotonous sing-song, lent additional emphasis. For this catechism, it may be necessary to inform the reader, contained not only the Ten Commandments and other plain precepts of morality, but abounded in definitions and proofs from Sci'ipture of such high and abstruse themes as the 'effectual calling,' 'justification by faith,' ' original sin ' and the like ; and behind all these and the iron predestination that hemmed them in, the presence of a frowning and angry Deity, whom for a long time I remember figuring as some righteous and incensed Kirk Elder, everywhere unpleasantly loomed ! 34 A CANADIAN SAUHATII. Tt) escape from an atmosphere so joyless and depressing, I was glad to steal out into the shed at the baek of the house, and there, beyond the eye of my mother, indulge my fantasy in designs for kites, cricket-balls, or other materials of play, wearying for the morrow to come to carry them into execution ; or I would wander out into the garden, and climbing to the top of the fence would look wistfully up and down the street to see if anything were stirring, or any of my playfellows were abroad. lUit the streets were usually as silent as the house, and my schoolfellows, more trained to habits of obedience or subdued to the genius of the day than myself, if seen at all would be seen sitting reading at their windows, indifferent to the salutes which I waved them from the distance. But long before the Church bells began ringing, my mother already dressed and prepared to start would call me in from the garden, and in my very early days would take me by the hand or allow me to hold on by her skirts, ever and again as I dragged behind to look at the birds or the fruit trees on the way, pulling me to her side as fi'om some evil and forbidden thing. As I grew older, however, I was allowed to find my own way to church, and this in itself proved a vast comfort, and helped greatly to relieve the tedium and length of the morning. For thus loosened from my moorings and mj'^ mother out of the way, I was free to roam about as I pleased, and when at last after locking the front door and steulthilv secreting the key behind the window sill, she sallied forth, I would watch her unobserved from some street corner in the distance until she passed out of sight. Onwards she would saunter softly along the grass by the side of the street, her parasol up, and in her best Sunday dress and shawl — a Paisley one, I remember, Avhich she wore inside out the better to preserve it ! — onwards and along beneath the overhanging trees with their sweet-smelling blossoms imtil she turned the corner of the mai'ket-place (I following at a distance) and was lost to view. When she was once well out of the way, I was free to A CANADIAN SABBATH. 35 llthily •th, 1 II the oiild |, her ,isley br to trees prner it to !e to roam as I have said where I chose, until the chiu'ch bells began to ring, amusing myself for tlie most i)art by looking for birds- nests in the hollows of stumps or among the shrubs and brushwood of tlie surrounding hills, or by pelting the frogs in the mill-i)ond at the hiwk of the church. This church, or 'meeting-house ' as my mother called it, was a large and roomy wooden edifice built after the manner of an English Dissenting Chapel, with the pulpit at one end, which was approached by a double flight of stairs, and with galleries running around its remaining sides. The pew which my mother occupied was in the front row of the gallery near the pulpit, and from this point of vantage the whole congregation, with tlie exception of that part lying immediately beneath us, lay stretched out around and beh)w us on all sides. To this pew in the early siunmer morning and long before the church bells began to ring or the dust from the morning's sweeping had had time to settle, would my mother come, and taking her seat in the silent and empty tabernacle would sit there calm and motionless with an expression on her face of serene and tranquil enjoyment, her tlioughts vmknown to me, but her whole being seeming to derive some real though mysterious satisfaction from the presence of the sanctuary. When the church bells began to ring, I would enter and take my seat by my mother's side, and a few minutes before they ceased, the congregation, many of whom had been standing outside in groups talking of the weather and the crops, would begin to drop in one by one and moving softly along the matted aisles take their seats in silence. They consisted almost entirely of farmers from the country round, their wives, and grown up sons and daughters — old men bent and tottering, with heads grey, bald, and bedewed Avitli perspiration which ever and again they wiped with their faded old-fashioned red pocket-handkerchiefs ; young men and men of middle age in homespun, sunburnt up to the ears, and with their coarse hair cropped close and short and standing stiffly on end about the '! 3t> A CANADIAN SABHATII. ! crown like the surface of an upturned brush ; old grannies shakey and lean, their mouths fallen in and faces wrinkled like parchment ; and young women in wide circumambient crinoline, wearing huge brooches and ear-rings, and with their well-oiled hair brushed in wavy lines off the forehead in a style which to-day is no longer anywhere to be seen. In they came one after another in solemn silence, defiling as they went along from the different aisles into their respective pews until the whole church was filled. I'rescntly the door of the side aisle would open and through it would enter the Cai*e-taker, carrying the big Bible as solemnly as if it had been the Ark of the Covenant, and after dei)ositing it on the pulpit desk with all the regulated pomp and decorum of a court-usher, ho would withdraw again, to be followed almost immediately by the Minister himself who ascended the stairs with figure erect enough, indeed, but head bent at that nice angle between humility and sanctity which met with most acceptance from the congregation. After a formal glance around the building OCT ~ O to see that all was well, he would at once proceed to open the service by announcing and reading out the Psalm ; whereupon the ' Precentor,' as he was called, who sat in a little box at the base of the pulpit, and whom wc boys regarded as second only in importance to the minister himself, would strike his tuning- fork against the edge of the desk, and quickly running up the gamut in an under-hum until he reached the note required, would lead off the singing. An interval followed in which the precentor's voice alone was heard, but the congregation presently joined in, and in a few moments the sound rose in jrreat volume from hundreds of harsh and untuned throats, and rolled full against the concave roof. Many of the congregation, you noticed, lingered on the notes with a kind of desperate affection as if they could not let them go, but falling far into the rear and threatening to be left behind, they had to be brought up to time again by an emi)hatic jerk of the psalm-book which the precentor held in A CANADIAN S.VBUATU. 37 an 1(1 in liis hands and which he used as a condncting rod. Now I know not how others were affected by all this, although by their appearance they seemed to enjoy it, but as for myself I can truly say the higher and louder the volume swelled the lower did my spirits fall. No funeral march in the long |)rocession of the dead, no eclipse of the sun at noonday, no moaning of the winter's wind, or wail of howling dogs in the night watches ever in after years let down my soul to a pitch so low as did these dreary melancholy psalms rising and falling in their hai'sh and sullen monotony like the moan of some distant midnight sea against a deserted shore ; and to this hour whenever I hear them, they i)roduce the same di-eary and depressing effect on my mind. Nothing indeed could better express than these psalm tunes, the genius and spirit of the institutions and creeds out of which they arose. The first two liries (written generally with an abundance of fiats or in a minor key), bare and harsh as the soul of Calvinism itself, and which were always associated in my mind with the cries of damned spirits or the groanr of hunted covenanters lifting their voices to God for mercy, sufficiently expressed the pi'cvailing feeling of abasement and contrition ; when, having touched the lowest de})ths of all, in the third line, again, the notes would rise in reaction in swelling strains of exultation and triumph, until in the last line they died away into the old wail of stricken humiliation. The names of one or two of the more obnoxious of these old psalm tunes still abide in my memory, one especially, called ' Coleshill,' which was dolefully wailed and chanted, like the tom-tom in some Indian exorcism, when sacrament was being administered, being my peculiar bane ; and to this day I cannot hear them without the old feeling of dreariness and pain. After a jjrayer which for sheer length distanced all subsequent parallels in my experience, the Minister, thawed in utterance and full of zeal, would at once set out on the main feat and business of the day, which Avas nothing less than the J i 38 A CANADIAN SAUHATII. delivery of two sermons in succession with little or no intervul between them ! lie was a North of Ireland man, of medium stature, well-built, thick-set, and in the prime of life, with a short-cut, brown, stubby beard, coarse, thi(;k and wiry, and weai-in<^ his dark hair double-j)arted on the sides so that the combined intervening locks, gathered and brought to a ridge at the top, curled and broke to the one side like the crest of a falling wave. A good man I verily believe, and true as steel to his convictions, and in private life amiable, gentle, and honourable to a degree — I still remember with ijratitude and affection his kindly words when he met and spoke to me in the street — but in public and at the (mly angle at which I was accustomed to see him, he was stiff, unbending, and un- conciliatory. His voice was rough, harsh, and without compass or melody, and his delivery, unlike that of his southern country- men, was constrained and jerky, and without fluency, facility or grace. The pulpit style which he most affected was that of the cold, argumentative, and severely logical theologian rather than the persuasive winner of soul-^, but when warmed into passion by the presence in his jiath of some invisible foe — Catholic or Arminian — instead of sawing the air or beating the i)ulpit with his fist, as was the manner of some of his professional brethren, he would clap his arms tightly to his side, and fall on his antagonists in a series of short energetic jerks of the shoulder, each jerk an argument, much in the manner of the principal performer in a Punch and Judy 8h()\v. As for the text and ostensible motif of his sermon it mattered little ; he would start anywhere, ranging freely and without apparent preference tlu'ough all parts of the Old and New Testament, but after a formal and merely comi)limentary glance at the context and environment of his subject, he would be swiftly drawn into the vortex of Calvinistic Theology and carried along its rocky bed to its predestined end. No word of general human interest, nor hint of any [jcrsonal experience of his own or another's, no lively anecdote such as those with which the A CANADIAN SAHIJATII. m) fitrcet-preaclier interests or animatcH liis hearers, warmed these, to me, dreary discourses, so far as I can remember, durin<]j all those years ; indeed all such trivial personal matter he would have regarded as beneath the dignity and sf)lemnity of his high theme ; but the soul and centre of every discourse, the hinge on which all turned was what he called the ' S(!heme of Salvation ; ' a high and logical structure erected with vast labour and ex- penditure of thought, and supported on two massive pillars, the Covenant of Works and the Covenant of Grace, beneath whose cold and lofty arches, indeed, the multiform concrete sins and temptations of poor erring men and women might have walked in and out ludiecded. Occasionally, but at rare intervals only, some great name or incident from profane history, giving pi'omise of a story, would lift its head in the midst of his discourse — the name of IJyrou I remember was once mentioned — and then all ears were pricked to hear what the upshot and di'noument would be, but we were speedily disabused, for instead of carrying the incident to its natural conclusion, he would summarily cut it short at the point whei'o it began to be interesting, leaving us with oidy that smallest section of it which fitted into his theological design ; and the seductive personality after turning up its shining side for a moment, would be swiftly drawn down into the theoloijical maelstrom a<>'ain, never to emerge. The congrcgatitm, meanwhile, who had sat erect and attentive, and to many of whom a theological dissertation was as fascinating as a talc of fiction, even they Avould at last begin to show signs of flagging, and here and there a head accustomed to the o[)en air of the fields and oppressed by the sultry heat, would be seen to fall back softly in slumber against the back of the pew,- initil as it receded back fartlier and farther and the jaw in consequence drojiped lower and lower, a sharp harsh snore, cut short in the middle, would arrest the attention of the drowsy worshipper and startle him into propriety again. My motlier who hehl out heroicallv amiinst the combined eftects of the heat and the 40 A CANADIAN HAnBATII. discoui'se, nerved to it alike by duty aiul piety, inaintiiincd a fixed and rij^id attention throuj^hout, and, except when disturbed by some fresh vagary of mine, accompanied the words of the preacher by a mute movement of iier lips as if there were magic in the sound. Hut in spite of tlie efforts I made to sit still, the feelinir of restlessness and ennui bei^ame at last so intolerable that I would begin to yawn and fidget, scratching the liible or the seat with j)ins, scraping with my feet, or worse than all <'ommitting that prime offence against decorum, the rolling of my head from side to side on the ' a^aiu to the y-ardcn, and Iving down on the grass in the shade of the apple trees in :i didl and listless reverie, there would come to me from some distant cottage the melancholy moan of one or other of the sanie old jisalm tunes of the morning; and as the sound came wafted to me intenuittently