\->a^ns LECTURES BY THOMAS GALLOWAY.
)
To THE Pu
BLIC.
The author has been afflicted with " spinal " disease
upwards of thirty- seven years; was seven years con-
fined to bed, during which time his hip joints became
immovable. He has spent upwards of two years in
New York under treatment, and is much benefited.
He there underwent five severe and dangerous opera-
tions in the hope of regaining the use of his limbs. The
New York surgeons broke both hips, and have suc-
ceeded in making him an artificial hip joint — ihe first of
the kind in America.
Though unable to move without crutches he is
endeavouring to earn an honest and independent liveli-
hood in the only way that his physical condition will
allow, viZ: : by lecturing and selling his lectures.
The following extracts from a few cf the many letters
in his possesf.ion will show how his lectures are spoken
of by the clergy : —
"An able writer and an effective speaker."— Rbv, D. J. Mac-
DONNBLL, Toronto.
*' His lecture was inter^ting, instructive and devotional. I
commend Mr. G. to the confidence of the Church and public."—
Re^. John Potts, D.D., Toronto.
" I was deeply interested." — Rbv. Principal Grant, Kingston.
•• Everyone was delighted with it." — Rev. J. A. Murray, Lonaon.
"Fitted to instruct and quicken any audience in town or
countiy."— Rbv. G. M. Miixigan, Toronto.
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THOS. GALLOWAY,
LECTURES
DELIVERED BY
THOMAS GALLOWAY,
♦' The Story of My Life."
'' Through Scotland on Crutches."
" Through Ireland on a Jaunting Car."
*' How to Make Life a Success. '
'* 19th Century Miracles."
*' Praise."
A Creature Unknown to Natural Science."
-r V TORONTO. ONT.: - ^
C. Blackett Robinson, Printer, 5 Jordan Street.
va y-Y )
ANNtX
STAJK
FEB 2 j^ 1£51
Preface.
The writing of a Biography is always a difficult and deli
cate task, because of the interlinking of the life of the subject
of the Biography with the lives of others. This difficulty is
increased manifold when one undertakes to write an Auto-
biography, because many of those with v^^hom the Author was
on terms of intimacy and friendship, and others with wltoni
he may have been intimate but not friendly, but quite the
reverse, are still living, or their friends and relatives are, and
it is next to impossible — perhaps altogetlier impossible — to en-
tirely free the mind from the bias given it by the pleasant and
the unpleasant associations that are oftentimes forced upon
us in the battle of life. To give to each his due amount of
praise for noble sentiments and generous deeds ; and, where
we cannot commend, to pass as lightly over, and deal as
charitably as may be with demerits, which in the eyes of
others may not have been demerits, but grounds for admira-
tion and commendation, requires a delicacy of feeling and a
depth of judgment such as I make no pretension to. I will
try to give to each ** honour where honour is due," and shall
certainly ** set nought down in malice," but will endeavour
to present my own checkered life with its trials and its suffer-
ings, its defeats and its victories, its discouraging features
and its cheerful trusting hope, believing that from the story
of my life, others of God's tried and suffering ones may draw
cheer, and comfort, and hope, and be led to seek and obtain
eternal consolation in the God of all comfort and the Christ
of all grace. God grant that such may be the case, and His
name be glorified thereby.
^ March ist, 1896. • T. G.
The Story of My Life.
My father was born in r8o6, in the royal town of Loch-
maben, Duinfries-shire, Scotland, the birth-plac(^ of Scotland's
idolized King, Robert Bruce, from whom he traced his
descent on his mother's side. My mother was born in the
neighbouring town of Lockerbie, in 1811. Together in
1832 they sailed for the New World, to seek a home. They
spent one year on Shore's Island m the St John river near
Fredericton, New Brunswick. In 1833 they came to Toronto,
and settled on Yonge Street, where so many immigrants to
tiie west seem to have found their first resting-place.
The following year my father " took up " one hundred
acres of bush land in the Township of Scott, in the County
of Ontario, and having erected a small log house thereon,
thither they removed with the little they possessed of this
world's goods, driving as far as possible vvith a team of horses.
When it was impossible to go any farther thus the horses-
were unhitched from the waggon, my mother with her babe
in her arms climbed on to the back of one of them, and my
father leading the other they made the remainder of their
journey through the forest to their new home, if heme it
could be called. It had no window, no floor save the bare
earth, neither stove, nor fireplace, nor chimney. The light
came in through the chinks m the walls which were after-
wards stuffed with moss gathered from the trunks of the forest
trees. The fire was made on the earth in the centre, the
smoke escaping through a hole in the roof.
Here they spent the first night in the wilderness together.
The second night my mother with her babe less than a
year old, was alone in that forest home where she was to
endure the hardship and privation inseparable from a life on
the frontiers of civilization ; the wolf, the bear, and the wild
Indian her frequent yet dreaded visitors. Ah, who can tell
the loneliness and desolation of heart, the homesickness, the
sorrows and cares and trials of the frontiersman's wife!
:2 THE STORY OF MY LIFE.
What woman could endure them were the future not radiant
with hope ? What woman would venture on such a life did
she not see in the sunny days to come a peaceful, comfortable,
happy home, lit up with the love of a fond husband and echo-
ing the merry shouts and laughter of light-hearted, romping,
winsome children ? Hope! Hope! What glowing pictures
thou dost paint on the canvas of the future, pictures that lift
the soul oi the mortal above the mere sordid desires of self
and the world, and make the heart glow and throb and
pulsate with the thrilling ecstacy of self-denying, self-sacrific-
ing, God-like love. O Hope ! What would this sin-cursed,
sin-blighted world be without thee to illumine, to elevate and
inspire Few, few of thy roseate dreams are fulfilled, few of
thy glowing visions become reality ! This world is little bet-
ter than a charnel ^ )use of faded visions and unrealized ex-
pectations, yet without thee to cheer us and lead us on life
•would soon go out in black and gaunt despair.
Here in this home in the forest my mother spent many
years with little companionship except that of her children.
My father was compelled to be absent a great part of each
year earning a subsistence for his family. For this purpose
he had to go twenty to thirty miles from home, only returning
at intervals, making the long journey on foot through the
dark forest after completing his day's work, often reaching
home after midnight. During these long intervals of separa-
tion my mother rarely saw any human being except half-
savage Indians. All around was unbroken forest, no other
settler's cabin was visible. During storms the tall forest
trees around would sway to and fro, their branches often
chafing the roof and walls, seeming as if they would fall and
crush both house and occupants. Wolves and bears were
often seen prowling near by, and the howls of the former oft-
times disturbed the slumbers of herself and children. It was
only after long years of hardship, self-denial, thrift and per-
severing industry that a comfortable home and competence
were secured.
Here in this forest home I was born in 1847. I presume
the most trying times of the family \ ere over, as I have no
recollection of any want of either food or clothing. Tlie
.rS".- "•"""*""* "T
THE STORY OP MY LIFE. 3
earliest incident which my memory recalls was the death of
my uncle which occurred when I was about a year and a half
old. He had been a hotelkeeper for some time, '^nd had un-
consciously acquired a liking for alcoholic bever< p,es. One
day he suddenly awoke to the fact that he was nol a master
but a slave. Possessed of an iron will he determined to be
free. So leaving the hotel he came to my father's to fight
his battle for freedom. He fought and won ; but his victory
cost him his life. When the craving came upon him he
would go out and walk till exhaustion induced sleep and for-
getfulness. Returning from one of these exhausting tramps
he flung himself down on a bunk in which some of us children
slept at night and almost instantly expired. The incident
was so striking and so deeply impressed on my young mind
that I can still recall the sad scene. This was my first
acquaintance with death, but, in how many forms, and in
how many places I have met that dread visitor since. Alas,
how many broken hearts, ruined homes and blighted lives
has alcohol, that curse of our race, been responsible for !
When will our legislators — when will the Christian people
of our land, rise in their might and say : " This curse shall
cease from our land. Our sons and our daughters shall be
no longer its prey ?" The next incident of which I have any
recollection was the putting of a pump in our well, which
occurred when I was about three years old. It was, I believe,
the first pump in the neighbourhood. Well do I remember
wondering what the strange thing with its coat of bright red
paint was intended for. And when in position, how the
working of the handle up and down made water flow from
the spout was a great mystery.
Beyond these two incidents nothing remains of my early
childhood days When a little more than four years old the
school-master, R B , came to board with us. He
was a quiet, quaint, droll Irishman, who liked to entertain
and amuse children because while doing so he amused and
entertained himself. He long ago dropped out of the pro-
fession, and for many years has eked out a subsistence with
the aid of a plot of land whicL he purchased with the savings
from the pedagogic portion of his life. His qualificatioiis
4 THE STORY OF MY LIFE.
would not rank very high nowadays, but I used to think him
the embodiment of wisdom. A mutual liking soon sprang
up between us, and I longed to go to school, and constantly
begged to be allowed to go. As the good-natured teacher
expressed perfect willingness I was duly fitted out and started
to school, the teacher leading me by the hand, for I was
bashful and everything was strange.
Soon this bashfulness wore off, and, instead of walking
with my hand in that of my teacher, I used to run on before
him shouting, «' T— o— m, Tom, T— o— m, Tom, When I
get bigger I must have a bigger name." One morning as I
was thus running along barefoot I started down a small hill
with a great burst of speed, when, on glrncing down, I saw,
just where my bare foot must fall, a huge snake that was cros-
sing the road. It was too late to stop or to place my foot
elsewhere, and I can yet recall the sensation of horror that
almost paralyzed me as my foot fell on the cold reptile. The
teacher heard my horrified exclamation and burring forward
killed it.
During this first summer at school I had a grand time. If
the weather was at all fine the teacher turned me and other
little ones out to play during the greater part of the day, only
calling us in when he wished to give us a lesson. Thus I
experienced little of the dreary discomfort so trying to children
when confined in a hot ill-ventilated room, or of the torture
of sitting for hours on an uncomfortable seat too high for me.
Instead of sitting on a hard seat, my little aching legs dang-
ling without support, I was chasing butterflies, making "bird-
nests " in the sand, *' mud pies," or miniature forts. And
often since I have been constrained to think that if pedagogues
of the present day would show the same consideration it
would be better for the little ones both physically and intel-
lectually. Kindergartens did not exist in those days, but for
entertainment and physical development, our play, in my
estimation, far exceeded kindergarten work.
In those days teachers were very different from what they
now are. Then, any man who had a very slight acquaintance
with the three R's, and could wield the birch well could be
a school teacher, and unless the man was naturally kind
THE STORY OP MY Llt^B. 5
hearted and fond of children theHttle ones often had a trying
time. At the end of the year our teacher resigned and anotlier
one was engaged. He proved to be a regular martinet,
and our happy days with a minirnuni of study and confine-
ment and a maximum of pleasure ind progress came to an
end.
My childhood's years rolled quickly by. We children
were early taught to assist in performing many of the multi-
tudinous tasks that are found on a farm. Through winter's
cold and summer's heat, in storm and shine, we each had daily
to perform our allotted share of these '* chores," besides
acquiring, as well as we could, sufficient knowledge of the lessons
that were given us to satisfy a teacher not always too indulg-
ent ; and many were the stripes some of us were obliged to
receive, not for any fault of our own, not because our task
was incomplete, but simply that the teacher might show his
authority or work of his temper which was often an unknown
quantity in the morning, but not always so at night. Happily
for the youth of our land those days are past and gone, and
our scliool teachers are no longer permitted to inflict torture
as the whim of the moment impels them.
My aml)ition was to stand at the head of my class, and
my ambition was often, but not always attained, for at that
time, as at the present, there were many clever children, both
boys and girls, whose ambition was quite equal to mine; their
natural ability was equal or greater, but nature had endowed
me with more stick-to it-iveness which balanced and more
than balanced the others.
During the first ten years of my life 1 was a stout, healthy,
happy, active boy. Then an accident happened which
resulted in untold suffering and life-long disability. One of
my elder brothers was sent one day to the barn to pick straw
to braid himself a sun hat. Straw hats were not then braided
by steam, and for people who had only a very limited income,
and a not very limited family, the hat question, even the straw
hat question, was an important one, and most of our family
— all the elder ones at least — were taught to braid their own
hats and my mother sewed them. I do not recollect that I
was sent on a similar mission, but my brother was anxious
6 THE STOPY OF MY LIFE.
thai: 1 should go as I would thus accomplish two ends — be
company for him and also pick straw to make m)'self a hat
for the next summer.
The sheaves we were to select from were on a scaffold
almost at the very top of the barn. We succeeded in reach-
ing the place in safety, completed our work and started to
descend when the accident occurred. My brother slid down
from the scaffold, holding on to the sheaves as he descended,
and alighted safely on one of the beams on which the scaffold
rested, bringing, however, quite a quantity of straw with him.
I attempted to follow him and succeeded in descending to the
beam all right, but my feet, unfortunatel}^ alighted on the
straw which my brother had dragged down. The straw
slipped from the beam, there was one moment of horror, and
then unconsciousness. Two other elder brothers who were
working in the barn at the time heard the dull heavy thud,
and hastening to the place found me apparently dead. They
lifted me from where I had fallen, and for awhile stood
speechless, gazing into my apparently lifeless face, and when
I began to show signs of life and returning consciousness,
they carried me gently to the house and handed me over to
my mother's care. Had 1 been put in bed then and kept
there for <^wo or three weeks it is quite probable I should not
have suffe d any permanent injury, but in less than one hour
I had rallied sufficiently from the shock to walk Jxbout. My
friends were thankful that my life had been spared. What
their feelings would have been had they known the years of
agony that would ensue I can only conjecture from incidents
which transpired later.
'* A woman when she is in travail hath sorrow because
her hour is come ; but as soon as she is delivered of the child
she remembereth no more the anguish for joy that a nan is
born into the world." This is true — universally true — because
the future is unknown. Could the mother look into the future
and see the life her child will live, the character he will form,
the sorrows and trials and sufferings that lie before him, it
would no longer be universally true. As time rolled on what
then must my mother have felt during the long years of
apparently hopeless misery that resulted from this fall ? Her
THE STORY OF MY LIFB. 7
afFection for her child, her sorrow for my sufferings, and her
despair of any release save death, at length constrained her to
exclaim, " I would be glad if his sufferings were over, and
he laid away in his grave." I felt the words keenly. I thought
then that she was weary of carying for me. I knew aftc wards
that it was not self but the true mother love that spoke ; tl.at
she was thinking only of me, of my release from a trouble
that seemed hopeless, from an agony that she thought death
alone could end.
For nearly two years after this fall I felt no ill etTects, but
seemed the same strong, healthy, active child as before.
Threshing time in 1859 came. The threshing-machine was
with us on Sept. ist and 2nd. Hands were scarce and diffi-
cult to get, so every boy about the farm was pressed into ser-
vice. In those days the hardest way was often the best way — of-
tentimes the only way. The grain fell from the separator into a
box which held about a bushel and sat directly beneath the
machine. It was my duty to take another similar empty box,
set it against the end of the full one, and shove it from beneath
the machine that it might be carried away, emptied, and
returned to me to repeat the operation. During the first day
I succeeded very well. In the afternoon of the second day I
experienced great difiiculty, and finally had to retire unable
;to continue the work.
Next morning I seemed myself again. IV! y parents left
home that. day to be gone for some days. I was sent to drive
the oxen for my brother who was ploughing, and continued
to do so during the forenoon. About half-past one in the
afternoon we returned to the field, but had only been at work
a few minutes when I was seized with severe pains in the knee
and ankle joints, and was obliged to sit down. Presently the
joints began to swell, and by three o'clock they had become
so swollen and painful it was with great difficulty that I suc-
ceeded in reaching the house. On the return of my parents,
the family physician, Dr. J N , was called in. After a
brief examination he pronounced my trouble inflammatory
rheumatism. This proved to be another mistake, but it was
not discovered to be svych for ten long years.
I was immediately put under treatment for my supposed
S THE STORY OP MY LIFE.
ailment. All the remedies for rheumatism known to the
pharmacopeia, and also electricity, wet pack, cold shower
bath, etc., were tried with varying results. None proved
beneficial, while some were positively injurious. Sometimes
I was confined to bed for weeks or months ; sonietimes
I was well enough to go to school. But always when any
considerable improvement took place the doctor immediately
insisted that I must be put to work, that my muscles were
wasted, and unless I was made to work they would never
grow. A terrible mistake ! Rest, absolute rest, was what
I needed, and consequently a short period of work was always
followed by a most serious relapse, the most excrutiating
agony and another long confinement to the house or perhaps
to bed. The doctor meanwhile maintained that he under-
stood my case thoroughly, and was doing all for me that
medical skill could do, and my parents had such implicit faith
in him that his word was never doubted, nor was another
physician consulted about my case. I do not believe that Dr.
N ever thought that he was wronging me, yet under like
circumstances, would it not be m.ore creditable to the doctor
and more considerate to his patient to admit that he was not
satisfied with the result, and leave his patient free to get other
advice, or even counsel him to do so ? On general principles
I think it would, and thus regrets and painful reflections in
after days would be avoided.
Year after year passed away. I would be confined to bed for
a month or two, then would come a period of apparent
improvement, a short term at school, an effort to perform some
kind of work as the doctor insisted, and then another relapse
still more serious than the preceding one. During all these
years of suffering I endeavored to get an education ; the
greater part of the little I possess I acquired by my own
efforts in bed. In the year 1865 our county council, desiring
to promote and encourage education, offered for the follow-
ing year, to be awarded by competition, scholarships of $40
each in the different municipalities in the county, the number
of scholarships in each municipality being determined by the
population. As our township was small it received only one.
Competition was limited to pupils of the public schools. I at
THE STORY OF MY LIFE. Q
once determined to compete and succeeded in wining it by
48 marks after a Ireen contest.
Besides obtaining the highest standing in a written
examination, I must also undergo an oral one, and likewise
attend a high school in the county for a period of one year.
Accordingly in the spring of 1866 I became a pupil of the
Uxbridge High School. Although my health was so poor that
I could only attend school a portion of the time, 1 not only
secured the scholarship but also the highest standing in the
school in every subject which I took up
In the sprmg of 1867 I determined to try the examination
for teacher's certificate. My health and strength were at this
time failing fast, and when the time for the examination
arrived 1 was so weak that when driven to the room door I
could not walk in without assistance. My friends attempted
to dissuade me from trying the examination, but I had pre-
pared for it and was determined to go through if possible. At
the last moment my courage almost failed me. I felt that my
strength was not equal to a long written examination. How-
ever, I laid the matter before the board, and they kindly
consented to grant me an oral one. The result was that I
was deemed worthy of the highest certificate the board could
grant (ist A.), the examiners expressing regret that they
could not grant a higher one, I had gained the end I had
labored so hard to reach. Beyond that the satisfaction has
been small, for I have never been able to use my certificate.
Immediately after this examination my health became so
very unsatisfactory and my sufferings so severe that I was
obliged to quit school altogether. During the fall and winter
there was no perceptible improvement in my condition. In
June, 1868, my father decided to take me to the Maritime
Provinces to try change of air and sea bathing. The sail from
Toronto, down lake Ontario and the St. Lawrence, was
doubtless pleasant for those who were well, but I have little
recollection of anything except that I suffered severe pain,
and that captain, crew and passengers were all extremely
kind.
On reaching Point de Chene, New Brunswick, we found
comfortable lodging close to the sea-shore, and here we con-
10 THE STOUY OF MY MFK.
eluded to rest. For a little time there seemed to be soni<
miprovement; then came a sudden and serious relapse. Dr.
Harrison, of Shediac, was called in. After a very careful
examination he pronounced my trouble " spinal disease," the
result, no doubt, of the fall which I had nearly twelve years
before He advised the use of certain remedies, and also that
I should return home at once, as there seemed no prospect of
betterment, but the reverse, and the doctor thought I was
l^oing home to die.
Accordingly we started homewards, via St. John, N.B.,
and Portland, Maine. On board the steamer New York,
somewhere ofT the Maine coast, an old gentleman, whose hair
and 1 eard were as white as snow, came and talked with me.
His kindly winning way and tender sympathy were very
pleasant. For some time we talked on various subjects of
mutual interest, and afterwards about my own ailment, its
origin, progress, treatment, etc. Finally, taking me by the
hand, his eyes expressing an interest beyond what tongue
could speak, his voice full of sympathy and of a yearning that
only those can understand who have felt the constraining
love of Christ in their own souls, he tenderly said "Your
prospects seem poor for this world, what are they for
the next ?" In an instant he was gone, but the thoughts, the
longings that had their origin in that question have begotten
in my soul a hope, a trust, a faith that have never gone from
me, and, I pray God, never will.
In our home there was too much of that reserve in speak-
ing of Spiritual things which is so characteristic of many
Presbyterians, especiail}' Scotch Presbyterians, the result no
doubt of the persecution of the Covenanters, when men might
think, and believe, and hope, and trust, but the longings, 'and
desires, and aspirations of the heart for heaven and heavenly
things must remain unspoken unless they were cast in a
certain mold and fashioned after a certain established
pattern.
Despite this reserve in speaking about spiritual life antl
experience we were early taught the fundamental truths of
Christianity. We were required to commit to memory the
Shorter Catechism and large portions of the Bi! . Revcr-
!
THE STOUT OP MY LIFE. 11
ince for the Sabbath, for God's Word and for His Churcli
were inculcated both by precept and example. Patriotism,
loyalty to •' the powers that be,'' integrity, truthfulness and
general moral uprightness were constantly instilled. In
course of time a Union Sabbath School was established near
by, and we became regular attendants, and though my
parents did not always approve of everything in connection
with it, they always upheld it and generously contributed to
its support.
For the Scripture knowledge and Christian doctrmes thus
acquired I trust I have been sincerely thankful. They
furnished food for profitable thought and spiritual growth
and comfort in after years when confined to bed and racked
with pain I was unable to wait upon the usual means of grace..
But it has always been to me a source of keen regret that in
our home there was not that interchange of spiritual thoughts,,
and hopes, and desires, that confidential converse about all
that pertains to the soul's life and growth and welfare for
which I so often longed. For this my parents were probably
more to be pitied than blamed. The habits acquired in early
life are not easily overcome. Obliged by the customs of the
community in which they were reared to exercise self-restraint
in religious matters, the enforced reserve in time developed
self-dependence and, to some extent, self-sufficiency. Hence,
when their minds were most active, their feelings most deeply
stirred, their utterances were fewest and briefest
The journey home from the Maritime Provinces was very
trying, and I can still recall the look of disappointment on
my mother's face when she learned that my search for health
had been fruitless. For some months I was able to sit up a
little almost every day. In the beginning of December I
became so much worse that I was obliged to remain in bed,
but it was expected that I would be able to get up again in a
few weeks or months as I had alwavs done before. Had I
known then that for seven long years I should be confined to
that bed, that for ten years I should be confined almost
wholly to tlie house, suffering agony that words are power-
less to express, I think the knowledge would have killed me.
How kindly our Heavenly Father deals with us ! In love
12 THK STOKY OK MY LIFE.
and mercy He conceals from us what shall befall us. How I
f<rateful His children should be that they '' walk by faith, 1
not by sight."
During those seven long years' the memory of whicli now
seems like some hideous nightmare, I endured the most
excruciating agony. Besides the pain my disease caused
me, I *• suffered many things of many physicians, and was
nothing bettered but rather grew worse." I could only sleep
a few minutes at a time, and would wake dreaming some
horrible dream to find that I was suffering such terrible pain
tliat it seemed impossible to lie another moment in that posi-
tion, yet to move was almost as painful as to keep still.
During the weary hours of the long wakeful night I could not
help sighing, '• Would God it were morning." In the morn-
ing I was so weary I sighed, " Would God it were night."
But whatever of anguish or heartache I felt was concealed as
much as possible, and I .as usually found cheerful and ap-
parently happy and contented. Especially did I endeavour
by an assumed cheerfulness and even mirthfulness to conceal
my mental and physical suffering from my mother. So well
did I succeed that she often exclaimed. '* Oh, how can you
be so light hearted 1" What I really suffered, mentally and
physically, none ever knew but myself and my God. In the
silent watches of the night when ail else were wrapt in sleep
I often besought God with strong crying and tears to either
grant me some relief from pain or to give me patience and
fortitude to endure it. The result was always renewed
strength and trust and comfort.
Our friends and neighbours were extremely kind and
thoughtful. My schoolmates, in particular, were very atten-
tive. Especially so was my beloved school-teacher, Mr.
McNevin, long since called to his reward. How many weary
hours my young friends beguiled of pain. How cheering and
comforting was their thoughtful remembrance of me. They
wore no sad. woe-begone faces w^hen they entered my room.
They never burdened me with words of sympathy or sorrow.
A pleasant, cheerful greeting, a gentle pressure of the hand,
or, if I were worse than usual, some of the inner circle of my
lady friends might imprint a kiss of heart-telt sympathy upon
my lips, but that was all.
THE 8T0HY OP MY LIFE. 1.*?
At length my siifferinpjs became so extreme that I was
obh'p^ed to resort to the use of opiates which I continued for
five years. When the necessity for their use no longer existed
a trernen'loiis stru£;gle began Tlic longing for llie drug often
seemed too much for the human will to contend against. At
times I felt that the vital forces must fail unless I liad another
dose, and often my hand was partly extended to take the
poison, ()iit I always realized that if I took it again my will
power would he broken and I be a helpless slave. Yet no
word ever passed my lips to tell to others, and none ever
suspected, the desperate struggle that was going on between
will and habit ; I was even haunted for months with thoughts
of suicide, tiie consequence of suffering and opiates combined.
Thank God, grace and strength were given me from on high
to enable me to overcome. Though for many years I have
had no desire for opiates, yet the struggle I had ere I con-
quered has deepened my sympathy for those poor slaves of
. habit to whom God has not given the will power that -He
gave to me, or the grace to call on Plim who is able to " bring
us off conquerors and more than conquerors "
During those five years my nervous system was so sensi-
tive and irritible that the slightest change of position, the
touching of the bedstead, or of the bedclothes, often caused
muscular convulsions so intense that every muscle would be-
come rigid as iron and the perspiration burst from every
pore. At such times I could scarcely get breath enough to
live. After administering opiates my mother would stand
by my bedside bathing my forehead with cold water to keep
rrit from fainting, and moistening my lips to allay the burn-
ing thirst which always accompanied those convulsions.
After hours of such agony that it seemed as if the muscles
must inevitably be rent asunder, utter exhaustion would
cause them to relax, and tired nature would sink for a few
minutes into the unconsciousness of sleep, blessed sleep 1
During these years of suffering, doctor after doctor was
called in. Dr. J. D. S , alone, was able to give any relief
except such as was secured by drugs, or to do me any real
good. I have no doubt that he was the means, under God, of
saving my life, though his skill and experience were insuffici-
ent to enable me to rise from my bed. At length my father
14 TUB HTOllY OF MY MKK.
dec. arcd after sixteen years of unavailing treatment that be
would doctor no more.
'J'lierc may be those w!io blame him, first for coming to
such a decision and afterwards for adhering to it. Yet, it is
not strange if, after such an experience, he should conclude
that as medical science and skill had done nothing for me
in sixteen years that they could do nothing; and being
Scotch, with a strong regard for his word, he religiously kept
it. Whether he was justified in the course he pursued 1 will
not attempt to determine. I who was, and am, most con-
cerned do not feel like uttering one word of censure. God
over-ruled all for my good.
Some time after my father arrived at the decision to
doctor no more I called in Dr. J. J. H , who had often
seen me, but had never treated or examined me. He at once
advanced the idea of mechanical support, thus giving
absolute rest to the diseased parts, which seems to me to be
the only rational method of treating injury, or disease of the
spinal column. Dr. H put me in communication with
Dr. W. B. DeGarmo, of N.Y., and acting on his advice, pro-
posed to get a Spinal Support for me. These instruments
were much dearer then than since, and as I was now depend-
ent on my own resources to meet doctor's bills, etc., the pro-
blem of how I sliould pay for it seemed to the doctor dif-
ficult, if not impossible of solution. It wis not so to me.
Though I had been so long confined to bed I had not been
idle. Occasionally I could get writing to do at reasonable
rates, though I was not always able to do it. Sometimes I
had opportunities to learn how to do fancy work of various
kinds, and though I learned only as a means of passing my
time, for working at it was preferable to doing nothing, I
soon found that my work commanded a ready sale, and by
these means I had earned and saved sufficient to pay for the
Support, and also to remunerate Dr. H for his time and
skill.
Slowly, very slowly, I improved under the new treatment,
though for a long time the improvement was not perceptible
to any one but myself. At length it became evident to all
that saw me, and most people would naturally suppose that
THE STOKY OP MY MFE. 15
my father on seeing the improvement would relent. But
with some natures, to prove them in the wron;:,' is only to
make them more obstinate, and his nature was of tliat kind.
His i-.ourse towards me seemed iiard ami unfcehng, but it
forced me to depend on my own resources, and taught me
self-reliance which I had never before had reason to culti-
vate, but which I should need much in after years.
Very slowly, but steadily and surely, I gained health and
strength, and when I was strong enough to be lifted into
a carriage and taken for a short drive, I could have shouted
with delight ; but the joy and pleasure of my first drive, and
of every drive that I took for years, was marred by a severe
attack of pain that lasted for several days.
Great was the surprise of our neighbours when they saw
that I was really recovering. No one, except myself, ever
thought that I would leave my bed till I went to my grave,
and so several doctors declared. But what others thought,
or believed, or said, had no effect on me. I felt that I had
still vitality enough to rally if the proper remedy w^re found
and applied ; and I constantly prayed God to guide me in
this, as in all tilings, and if it were His will, tha^ He would
raise me up again and give me just such a measure of health
and strength as He saw best for me, — as would bet-it conduce
to His glory and my soul's eternal welfare, — and my life
should be spent in His service. I always believed that I
would be raised up, that God would never have giv ui me
such strong faith only to disappoint me, and the flovve.i of
faith at lengtli gave place to the fruit of realization
But as my spinal column healed the vertebrae all grew
together, and I thus lost all motion in it from the neck down-
wards. My hip joints had also grown fast owing to my in-
ability to use them, and as I had been obliged to lie with the
limbs drawn up I was in a sitting posture and remained so
nearly fourteen years, a bondage so tenible that only those
who have been similarly afflict. .d can conceive the misery it
entailed. The knee joints, were, at one time, almost as stiff
as the hips, though I succeeded in regaining the use of them.
Notwithstanding the defects in spine and hip and knee, I
could now be lifted into a carriage, and the monotony of my
16 THB STORY OF MY LIFE.
life was broken by an occasional visit to the hoiiie of a
neighbour or friend.
In May 1873, while I was confined to bed, our family
circle was first broken by the very sudden death of rny second
sister. Two years later my eldest brother was suddenly
stricken down, and after lyinjii: for some weeks in an un-
conscious condition he, too, passed away. Tlie death of
these left a sad blank in my life, though I seldom spoke
about what I thought or felt. But now one of the greatest
calamities that can befall any one — more especially one in
my condition — came upon me, in the death of rny motlier,
which occurred in July 1879, from hemorrhage of the lungs.
She had been for some time in failing health, but no one —
except herself — anticipated such a sudden or terrible end.
I afterwards had good reason to believe that she wan well
aware that her end was near. On the day of her death she
seemed more active and cheerful than usual and took a hearty
dinner. After rising from the table she went to the door.
While standing there she coughed. Instantly the " golden
cord was loosed," and in a few minutes life was extinct.
Other members of the family — especially my father — felt
her death keenly. I knew that I had k)st my best earthly
friend. I will not dwell on the .^ast sad rites. Home seemed
home no longer. My mother had anticipated this, and my
third brother, who was in comfortable circumstances, had
promised her that he would provide a home for me when she
was no more. But six weeks after my mother's death, while
he was raking hay, his horse ran away and killed him.
Coming so quickly after my mother's sudden death, the
shock of my brother's violent end was very great. I was
stunned, almost paralyzed for a time by the blow. To make
it worse my father was from home, and I was the only one of
the family within many miles. My father felt this second
bereavement very sorely. He was now past the allotted age
of man, and the shock was so great that he was never really
well afterwards.
After my mother's death we tried, my father and I, to
keep our home and for that purpose hired a housekeeper.
This proved unsatisfactory. Finally, my brother's widow
THE STORY OF MY LIFE. 17
came with her family, to take charge of the house and care
for my father, and I turned out in my weak and disabled
condition to face the world alone. How to earn an honest
and independent livelihood was the question. My Pastor,
Rev. Dr. Smyth, now of Montreal, whose kindness to me has
been more than a brother's, suggested that I should try
lecturing. I thought the matter over for a time, carefully
and prayerfully, and determined to act on the suggestion.
The venture cost me much anxiety until I had proved by
actual trial that the plan was feasible I had had no training
or other preparation to fit me for tlie work. A ver}' limited
education, an almost total ignorance of the world and the
ways of the world, and a weak, deformed body racked with
pain seemed a poor equipment. But though I had never
trod the halls of a University, I had graduatea in another
school — the' school of suffering — and liad retained my in-
di-^iduality. Though ignorant of the world and its ways, yet
during the long years I had spent in bed my Bible had been my
constant companion — not an unconsulted, and, I trust, not
an unprofitable one — and my peculiar life of suffering had
made me look at many of its truths in quite a different light
than ihey are viewed by the strong and healthy. While my
poor weak body, and patient, hopeful, trusting perseverance,
under almost msurmountable difficulties, gained me many kind
attentions and many friends.
True, I saw many dark, discouraging days. Climatic
changes affected me seriously. I was often tortured with
pain, yet must conceal it and seem at ease, or appear on he
platform when I was ill enough to have been in my bed. I
was usually treated with kindness and consideration by
Christian people, but it was not always thus. Some of those
v/ho stand high in the Church, and high in the estimation of
Christian people, have treated me with positive rudeness.
Some calling themselves " Ministers of the Gospel of Christ "
have abused me like a pick-pocket for trying to earn an
honest living in the only way possible. Some of them, I
know, were heartily ashamed of themselves afterwards. But,
thank God, with few exceptions those clergymen with wbr
I have come in contact had lived so near the Master tha.
16 THE STORY OF MV LlFE.
they had imbibed something of His spirit and extended to
me the same Christian courtesy and kindness as tliey would
wish extended to themselves under like circumstances. I
trust and pray that Almighty God will fittingly reward them
and all others A^ho act in a Christ-like manner.
During the spring and summer of 1880 I laboured to the
full extent of my strength, and in December I went to New
York to try to get straightened and to get the use of the hip
joints again. My friend, Dr. DeGarmo, encouraged me to
hope that this was possible. During the first few months I
had private lodgings and was treated by Dr. D-iGarmo. He
first endeavoured to loosen the joints and stretch the muscles
and ligaments by means of a steady tension. Tliey did not
yield as readily as he had anticipated, and he advised me to
take ether and let him apply force sufficient to break up the
adhesions. To thi^ I consented ; but the bone from want of
use or other cause had become exceedingly brittle, and in-
stead of the joint moving the thigh bone broke. With my
consent an attempt was made to form an artificial joint.
This was accomplished, but owing to the point of fracture
beiiig too low I could not use it, and the only result of the
experiment was to prove that such a thing was practicable.
Owing to the expenses which were beyond my means,
and sickness where I was boarding, as soon as I could be
moved, Dr. DeGarmo got me into St. Luke's Hospital.
Here, by his advice and under his direction, I had the neck
of the other thigh bone broken with a hammer and chisel,
and succeeded in making a really useful, artificial hip-joint.
Worn out with a whole year's confinement and suffering, I
returned home on Christmas eve.
I had not succeeded as well as I had hoped, yet the im-
provement in position was sufficient to make me wish and
hope for further betterment. Accordingly I set to work lec-
turing as soon as my strength would permit in order *- secure
means to obtain further treatment. I returned to j <vjw York
in the month of April, but found to my dismay that the doctor
who had operated before was in Europe. The operation was
too serious to trust a doctor, however eminent, who had not
performed it before, so I reluctantly returned home. I felt
titK StOt^Y OP MY LIFE. 1&
tjreatly disappointed, but it was all providential. My father
was never the same after the deatii ot my mother and
brother, and at this time was very unwell, though going
about the house. One day, about two weeks after my return,
he was suddenly taken worse, spoke only once and was gone.
Whatever his iaults or failings may have been, he has left a
name lehind him for hospitality, generosity, ability, integ-
rity, and public spirit second to none in the community.
Having seen his remains consigned to their last resting
place, I set to work once more, and it was not till February,
1883 that I again went to New York. In March, I entered
St Luke's Hospital a second time as a patient, hoping that
another operation like the last, it successful, would enable me
to walk without crutches. In this I was disappointec' There
was a blunder in the oper tion that cost me five months of
terrible agony, made two n.ore operations necessar}^ almost
cost me my life, while the betterment resulting from this last
visit to the hospital was reduced to a minimum. Had it not
been for the great interest taken in me by Dr. and Mrs. De
Garmo and the extreme kindness of the hospital officials, Mr.
Uhl, of the Y.M.C.A., and others, I scarcely think I would
ever have returned to my native land alive. As it was, my
strength was utterly exhausted, and, returning home in the
month of March, I caught a heavy cold which settled on my
lungs. In my weak condition I was unable to shake it off.
The trouble continued to increase, and after three months of
unavailing treatment my doctors advised me that they could
do nothing more for me. One of them, however, thought
change of air might benefit me. Accordingly, I started for
the Maritime Provinces. At first I was obliged to go inland,
but after some weeks I located in St. John, N.B. From that
time I improved steadily, and in three months was able to
resume lecturing.
In the winter months I have not been able to do much,
as I cannot stand the hardship and exposure inseparable
from winter travelling. During the summer of 1885 I laboured
constantly and with good results, but while giving my last
lecture that year in Norwood Presbyterian Church, I broke
down with heart failure. Though I rallied sufficiently to
20 THE STORY OF MY LIFE.
finish my lecture, the trouble was much more serious than I
at first supposed. In a couple of days I was able to reach
Toronto, but I was obliged to remain there a whole week
before I could continue my journey home.
All winter and spring I fought for life. When summer
came I started a third time for the seaside in search of health.
By the time I had reached ^^>elleville, Ont., I felt so exhausted
that I deemed it unwise to attempt to continue my journey
without rest I took a cab into the city. It had been rain-
ing and the cushion was damp. I thought nothing of this at
the time, but next morning I was waked by a pain in my
thigh which soon grew so severe I decided to call in a doc-
tor. He pronounced the trouble either rheumatism or neu-
ralgia, and administered opiates to give relief. He presently
awoke to the fact that the pain was caused by inflammation
which worked upwards and an abscess formed in my side.
The doctor despaired of my life. So did Rev. M. W. Mc-
L , who was a kind and frequent visitor. For weeks the
agony continued. I felt that I must die or go insane unless
I could get sleep, so the doctor administered heavy doses of
chloral, and finally I fell asleep and slept for hours. When
I awoke it was dark and the pain was all gone. The abscess
had reached an old wound in my side, had torn it open, and
I was fast bleeding to death. I stanched the bleeding till
morning and then sent for the doctor. A second time he
told the kind people with whom I was staying, and who were
tenderly caring for me, that I would surely die. I did not
think so, and having no more faith in him after hearing his
opinion, I wrote to Dr. DeGarmo for his opmion and ad-
vice. I followed his directions and the wound quickly healed,
but my strength did not return. All that summer and the
next winter life was a burden. When the summer of 1887
came,, I felt that I could not live unless I could get away from
the heat, so I s'arted once more for the seaside. I reached
St. Andrews, N.B., now becoming a fashionable summer re-
sort. The cool sea breeze was both life and health to me,
and my recovery was much more rapid than I had dared to
hope.
Again a period of comparative health was vouchsafed
THE STORY OP MY LIFE. .21
me, but in the fall of i88g my heart troubled me seriously,
ar 1 rememberijig the effect of the sea air before, I decided {o
try the ounce of prevention rather than the pound of cure,
crossed the Atlantic to the British Isles, and spent the winter
with my mother's relatives. During four short months I en-
joyed pleasant and profitable intercourse with those of my
own blood in the land of my ancestors, visited many places
of interest because of historical incidents, family traditions,
classic story or heroic martyrdom, while health and strength
improved daily.
Returning to Canada in the month of June, I continued
to work during summer and autumn with varying success.
In December, 1890, I took me a helpmeet, who has proved a
helpmeet indeed. Whatever else Providence has denied me,
He has given me a good, loving, faithful wife, and has sent
us a bright, sweet-tempered little daughter, now four years
old, who is truly " papa's sunshine."
In April, 1891, I took an attack of la grippe, so severe
that for five months it was doubtful if I could survive. Had
it not been for the unwearying care and good nursing of my
wife, I have little doubt that the attack v/ould have had a
fatal termination. I made a slow and a poor recovery ; and
in July, 1892, I broke down a second time with heart-failure
while speaking in the Presbyterian church in Petrolea. As
soon as I thought I was able, I started homewards. Several
times on the way I thought I was dying. On reaching home
I sent for a doctor and put myself under his care. For thir-
teen months I struggled for life. In the fall of 1893, I began
to improve and was looking forward to complete recovery in
the near future when I was suddenl}' seized with neuralgia in
the base of the brain and spinal cord. My right arm became
helpless. The pain in my head was so intense that I often
thought I must go insane. Night aftei night, for weeks in
succession, the pain was so excruciating that I was obliged
to send for the doctor. Four months this terrible agony
lasted. Nervous prostration followed. Life became an
almost insupportable burden. I was often tempted to com-
mit suicide. Only my strong faith in God and His comfort-
ing, all-embracing promise, *' I will never leave thee, nor for-
22 TUB STORY OF MY LIFE.
sake thee," restrained me. How true is the assurance thnf
Tie will not suffer His own to be tempted " beyond that they
are able to bear, but will with the temptation also make a way
of escape."
During this long period of sickness and suffering, three
assignments— one genuine and two fraudulent — swept away
the little I had been able to save, and left me deep in debt.
Twice I essayed to work to provide for the maintenance of
myself and those dependent on me. Each time I was taken
so ill before reaching my proposed field of labour that I was
obliged to return home. An eminent physician in Toronto
told me it was not likely that I would fvcr be able to travel
again.
'• Some murmur when their sky is clear and wholly bright to view,
If one small speck of dark appear in their great heaven of blue ;
While some with thankful love are filled if but one streak of light,
One ray of God's great mercy, gild the darkness of their night."
At this time I seemed to be encompassed by " an horror
of great darkness." In the whole sky there seemed not one
ray of hope. I was becoming despondent, when a letter from
Dr. DeGarmo told me that he was coming to Toronto, and
would come to see me. The very thought of seeing him re-
vived my sinking spirit. When he came and examined me
he assured me that there was no organic trouble, that it was
only functional, and he could see no reason why I should not
be restored to my accustomed state of health. Hope revived.
His skill at length availed so far that I was able in the fall of
1894 ^^ ^^^ 9- little work and so keep the wolf from the door.
Slowly, very slowly, health returned and spirits revived.
During the early summer months of 1895 I continued to im-
prove, and in August, by the advice of my physician, I went
once more to the Maritime Provinces and contmued to work
there for more than three months. The change had a mar-
vellously stimulating effect upon me. My heart began to
beat with something like its normal strength. Health and
vigour returned, and about the middle of December I came
home feeling that I have strength and vitality to go on work-
ing, if God so wills, for the maintenance of myself, my wife
THE STORY OP MY LIFE. iSd
and child, for the good of my fellow-men and for the glory of
His great name.
In connection with most lives there are dispensations of
Providence which, at the moment, seem incomprehensible ;
yet as time reveals God's purposes, the wisdom and goodness
of the Supreme Disposer of events become more and more
apparent. " Why am I required to pass through such a long
period of suffering ? " is a question that I often asked myself,
but asked in vain, for I found no satisfactory answer. I
think I can now see a part, if not the whole, of the reason.
In the first place, by m)^ personal, practical acquaint-
ance with the one form of spinal disease from which I suf-
fered I have been enabled to make such suj^gestions, and
lend such assistance, to others similarly afflicted as have
been blessed by God to the restoration of many of them to
health and usefulness : and, in the second place, that the
perfecting process might be begun and carried on in me in
the way which Infinite Love and Wisdom saw best, just as
it behooved the Captain of our salvation to be made perfect
through suffering.
It was long a mystery to me why I should be kept alive,
a burden to myself and to others, while many who could en-
joy life and were useful in both Church and State were taken
away. I now understand that these having completed the
work which God had designed for them here, were called to
receive their reward, while I was kept alive that the sustain-
ing power of the grace of God might be manifested in me,
that ni}' affliction might be made a means ol grace'to those
about me, and, having passed through seasons of fierce trial
and temptation, that I might be instrumental in helping
others out of the '• horrible pit," out of the *' miry clay " of
sin, and setting their feet on the Rock, Christ Jesus.
I often asked myself the question, ** Wh}^ was I denied
my heart's desire to enter the ministry, and forced into the
lecture-field instead ? " Had I entered the ministry in the
regular way I might have proclaimed the unsearchable riches
of Christ to a few hundreds, or perhaps a few thousands, of my
fellow-beings. As it is, I have done so to hundreds of thou-
sands. When I began lecturing I spoke on week-evenings
24 THE STORY OF MY LIFE.
only. Coming? occasionally where there was no minister, or
where the minister was ill, I was asked to give the people a
Sabbath service, and did so. Gradually Sabbath work
grew upon me until I now do a large part of my work on the
Sabbath. I have always selected subjects that I believed
would not only interest but profit my hearers while profiting
myself, and while I lecture I shall select such subjects only.
During my journeyings the poor, the sick, the suffering,
whether in body, mind, or soul, often send for me to visit
them, believing that because of my own life of trial 1 must
know how to sympathize with, clieer and encourage them.
Many who have felt that they were struggling under insup-
portable burdens or striving to overcome insurmountable
obstacles, have been encouraged by my unfaltering, God-
given perseverance, to press onward and upward, resolved,
God helping them, to win. Even ministers of the gospel
have said that my words and my example have inspired them-
selves and their people with renewed zeal and hope and cour-
age for the Master's work.
To say or think that I understand the whole of God's
purpose in afflicting me, or that I see the whole of the results
which lie intended to spring from my affliction, would be
presumption. But I am content, for ** what I know not now
I shall know hereafter." And though I know naught of what
God has in store for me during the remainder of my sojourn
here, yet while the memory and consciousness of His sustain-
ing grace during the trials and sufferings of the past remain
with me I can trust Him for I'le future.
" I know not what shall befall me,
God kindly veils my eyes,
And so each step in my onward path
He makes new scenes to rise,
And every joy He sends me
Comes as a strange and sweet surprise.
I see not a step before me
As I tread on another year,
But the past is safe in God's Iceeping,
The future His mercy shall clear,
And what looks dark in the distance
• ' May brighten as I draw near.
THE STORY OF MY LIFB.
For perhaps the dreaded future
Has less bitter than I think,
The Lord may sweeten the water
Before I stoop to drink,
Or, if Marah must be Marah,
He will stand beside the brink.
It may be He has waiting
For the coming of my feet.
Some gift of such rare blessedness,
Some joy so strangely sweet.
That my lips will only tremble
With ihe thanks they cannot speak,
O restful, blissful ignorance 1
'Tis blessed not to know,
It keeps me so safe in those arms
That will not let me go,
And hushes my soul to rest
On the bosom that loves me so.
Lly heart shrinks back from trials
That the future may disclose,
Yet I never had one sorrow
But what the dear Lord chose ;
So I send the coming tears back
With the whispered words, ' He know
25
S: . ..'^.y.
*^i'
Through Scotland on Crutches.
While in the British Islands I took many trips to places
of interest, historical and otherwise. I purpose taking yon
with me this evening on one of these ; not on crutches, as I
went, that would be too painful and fatiguing, but only intel-
lectually. The pleasure may be less on that account ; so,
also, will the pain.
On Monday morning, April 21st, 1890, I left Dumfries
for Melrose by way of Gretna and Longtown. At each of
these places is a railway junction where I changed cars. At
the former is the famous " Green," where the Gretna black-
smith married runaway couples; sometimes as many as three
hundred in a year, of all r.iuks in life, from chancellors of the
empire down to humble peasants.
After leaving Longtown, we soon pass through the Lid-
desdale district, the country of the Dandy Dmmont of Scott's
" Guy Mannering," and come within three miles of Hermi-
tage Castle, founded in the 13th century, and famous for
Queen Mary visiting Bothwell there when he was ill, soon
after the murder of Rizzio.
The first place of importance which we reach is Hawick,
which played an important part in the border feuds and was
often burnt by the English. Quite close to the railway is an
artificial mound of earth, called " The Moat." It is 30 feet
high, 312 in circumference at the base, and 117 at the top
It is circular in form, and is of such antiquity that it is not
known when, by whom, or for what purpose it was made,
though supposed to be of Roman origin The old fortress of
the Barons of Drumlanrig is at Hawick, and now forms part
of the Town Hall. It also is visible from the station.
About three miles to the south-west of Hawick is Branks-
holm Castle, immortalized by Sir Walter Scott in his " Lay
of the Last Minstrel." It was from this castle that William
of Deloraine was sent to Melrose Abbey to visit the tomb of
the Wizard Michael Scott, and get therefrom his * Mighty
Book."
2 Tiinouon Scotland on crutches.
•' The Lady of Branksholm greets thee by me,
Says that the fated hour is come,
And that to-night I shall watch with thee,
To win the treasure of the tomb."
Such was the message Deloraine carried to Melrose Abbey
to the ♦* Monk of St. Mary's Aisle." Said the monk : —
" I swore to bury his Mighty Book,
That never mortal might therein look,
And never to tell where it was hid
Save at his chief of Branksholm's need,"
Having removed the stone which covered the tomb :—
" Before their eyes the wizard lay,
As if he had not been dead a day ;
His hoary beard in silver rolled,
He seemed some seventy winters old ;
A palmer's amice wrapped him round,
With a wrought Spanish baldric bound,
Like a oilgrim from beyond the sea ;
His left hand held his Book of Might,
A silver cross was in his right ;
The lamp was placed beside his knee ;
High and majestic was his look.
At which the fellest fiends had shook,
And all unruffled was his face;
They trusted he had gotten grace.
" Deloraine in terror took
From his cold hand the Mighty Book,
With iron clasped, and '" ith iron bound ;
He thought as he took it the dead man frowned."
Michael Scott belonged to Sir Walter's ancestral liiu!
He lived in the i2th century, and his reputation extended all
over Europe. He was so far in advance of those among
whom he lived, both in wisdom and knowledge, that the
i,',morant and superstitious invested him with supernatural
powers. He wrote several able works on mathematics and
other of the exact sciences, and the expression the " Mighty
Book " has reference to these manuscripts, which the ignor-
ant thought contained the magic spells ard incantations for
the possession of which he had sold himself to the devil.
Leaving Hawick, we soon come to Hasscndean, the
THROUGH HCOTLANI) ON ritUTCUBS. 5
" Hazeldean " of " Jock o' Hazeldean ; " and then the Eildon
Hills «^ome in sight. These three liills or mountains seem at
one time to have formed only one mountain, which, during
some volcanic convulsion, had been torn into three. Traili-
tion says that Michael Scott one morning sent a demon to
divide this mountain and that he completed the task before
breakfast.
Passing on we soon reach Melrose. Here I was met by
a cousin from Edinburgh, a teacher in one of the city schools.
At Melrone the chief attraction is the Old Abbey or Monas-
tery, made so famous b}^ Scott in his •' Lay of the Last Min-
strel," and thither we turned our steps. Having knocked at
the gate we were presently admitted on payment of the usual
fee, and a tall, lithe Scotch lassie, with pleasant face, spark-
ling eyes and rav^en hair presented herself as our guide. She
was lady-like and modest in manner and fluent in speech.
She was well up in the architecture and sculpture of the place
and in its historical associations, and I found her one of the
most satisfactory guides I ever had.
She led us from chapel to chapel, pointmg out their gen-
eral resemblance and the difference in detail ; calling atten-
tion to the various styles of windows, each different from all
the others, and every one emblematic of the Trinity; and to
the endless variety of ornamental carvings on pillar, arch
and corbel, no two being alike. One of the most beautiful,
and at the same time one of the most difficult jf execution,
was the curly Scotch kale carved on the capital of one of the
pillars. It looked as if the living leaves had been placed there
and then petrified. The Abbey is now a ruin. The greater
part of the roof has fallen, arches have given way, and many
of the beautiful pillars are lying in fragments. Several of
these fragments are gathered together in front of the beautiful
cast window, and one piece worn smooth by the contact of
clothing, was pointed out as the one on which Sir Walter
Scott sat and conjured up the weird fancies of his waking
hours and then crystallized them by h's genius, and so pre-
served tnem for the recreation and entertainment of genera-
tions yet unborn. Of course, we sat on that same stone, but
we did not dream Sir Walter's dreams.
4 THROUGH SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES.
Melrose Abbey was begun by King David I. in 1136, was
ten years in building, and was dedicated to the Virgin Mary.
It was destroyed by the Enghsh under Edward II in 1322.
In 1326 King Robert Bruce gave ;^2,ooo (equal to £50,000
iiow; and the beautiful fabric was erected, which, even in
ruins, excites universal admiration. It was several times
plundered and burned by the English, was sadly defaced at
the Reformation, and fiercely bombarded by Cromwell.
The Abbey, with its buildings, gardens and walks, was
encircled by a high stone wall one mile in circumference, but
now consists of the ruins of the church, cruciform in shape,
which afford the finest specimens of Gothic architecture aiid
sculpture in Scotland. Everything is graceful, elaborate and
rich, combining great delicacy of touch and boldness of exe
cution. While the stone of which it is built is soft enough to
admit of great variety and delicacy of chiselling, it possesses
great power of resistance to the weather, and the most minute
ornaments still retain much of their original sharpness of out-
line. Many writers have tried to describe the Abbey, but
none have done so more beautifully than Sir Walter Scott.
" The darkened roof rose high aloof
On pillars lofty and light and small:
The key-stone that locked each ribbed aisle
Was 3.jfleur-de-Jys or a quatre-fenille :
The corbels were carved grotesque and grim ;
And the pillars with clustered shafts so trim,
With base and with capital flourished around,
Seemed bundles of lances which garlands had bound."
Alexander II. is buried near the high altar under the sur-
jiassingly beautiful east window which Scott describes thus :
'• The moon on the east oriel shone
Through slender shafts of polished stone,
By foliaged tracery combined ;
Thou wouldst have thought some fairy's hand
'Twixt poplars straight the osier wand,
In many a freakish knot, had twined ^
Then framed a spell M'hen the work was done
And changed the willow-wreaths to stone."
THROUGH SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES, 6
The heart of Bruce was deposited in Melrose Abbey after
an unsuccessful attempt by Lord James Douglas to carry it
to the Holy Land. Being hard pressed in battle with the
Moors in Andelusia, he flung the heart of Bruce in its silver
casket into the enemy's ranks, crying, ** On, brave heart, as
thou wert wont ; Douglas will follow thee or die," and press-
ing forward fell covered with wounds.
The Lords of Liddesdale are buried in the Abbey with
many another gallant Scot. Above the grave of Michael
Scott, the wizard, stands a statue of the great magician, with
weird face, longer on one side than on the other, and wild,
staring eyes. If he looked like the statue it is no wonder his
neighbors thought there was something uncanny about him.
In the churchyard lie the mortal remains of Sir David Brew-
ster.
Among the many strange and striking epitaphs in the
churchyard the following I thought worth transcribing : —
•' The earth goeth on the earth glistening like gold,
The earth goes to the earth sooner than it wold,
The earth builds on the earth castles and towers,
The earth says to the earth all shall be ours,"
In these lines the pride, the brevity, the greed and the
vnn't\- of human life are strikingly set forth.
Scott says : —
" If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright,
Go visit it by the pale moonlight,
For the gay beams of light-some day
Gild but to flout the ruins grey.
"When the broken arches are black in night,
And each shafted oriel glimmers white;
When the cold light's uncertain shower
Streams on the ruined central tower ;
Whep buttress and buttress alternately
Seem framed of ebon and ivo y ;
When silver edges the imagery,
And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die ;
When distant Tweed is heard to rave.
And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave,
Then go — but go alone the while —
Then view St. David's ruined pile ; .
And, home returning, soothly swear
Was never scene so sad and fair.'*
6 THROUGH SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES.
If these liues be true, then I did not " see fair Melrose
aright," for I went in dayhght with a companion, and during
the whole of our visit there fell a cold, drizzling rain, yet 1
was charmed with tlie lovely old ruin. Having purch<ased the
" Lay of the Last Mmstrel," bound in box-wood, and •' The
Lady of the Lake," bound in Rob Roy tartan, from our
charming guide and dropped a shilling in her hand, — in the
Old Land one must never forget that shilling, — we bade adieu
to her and Melrose Abbey.
Just outside the Abbey gate is the Abbey Hotel, whicli
advertises meals, luncheons, cabs, etc , at reasonable rates,
and needing some fortification for the inner man my cousin
proposed to seek for it in this hotel. I expressed the opinion
that we might easily find one more satisfactory. He seemed
to think that what I said was an imputation of want of re-
spectability, so I said, *' Well, go in I'll follow you." We
went in and called for a cold lunch to be provided at once.
We sat down beside the grate to warm and dry ourselves dur
ing the few minutes we expected to have to wait. Fifteei;
minutes passed by. The 75 became 30, and the 30 became
45' 5o» 55^ but still there was no sign of lunch. ^Ve had ex-
pected in less time to be on our way to Abbotsford, and my
patience being entirely exhausted, I rang the bell and in
quired if our lunch was not ready. I was assured it would
be ready in a few minutes ; and just one hour after our order
was given we were asked to step into the dining-room and
directed to seats at one end of the table. On the table before
us was a bone, which at one time had been covered with meat.
but now only a few small fragments clung to it. There were
also some bread, two glasses of water and two hot potatoes
In the potatoes lay the solution of the long delay. It was no
longer a cold, but a hot, lunch, and to be charged for accord
ingly. It was a poor lunch and poorly appreciated, but the
bill — well, the less said about that the better, only, when you
visit Melrose Abbey, do not patronize the Abbey Hotel unless
you want to be robbed.
Though cabs could be procured at the Abbey Hotel, we
thought once was often enough to be robbed in one place, so
we went elsewhere and got a cab at a reasonable rate to take
THROUGH SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES. 7
US to Abbotsford. Abbotsford stands on the south bank of
the Tweed, on the site of an old farm-house, on a farm of loo
acres, which was known by the suggestive but inharmonious
designation of '* Clarty Hole." It was purchased from Dr.
Douglas, of Galashiels. It was paid for by mstalments.
The letter with the last remittance contained these lines : —
*' Noo, the gowd's thine,
And the land's mine."
Thi"! was the nucleus of the property. The last addition
to the estate was Huntlyburn, purchased in 1817. The pres-
ent house was begun in that year and finished in 1824 The
general ground plan is a parallelogram, irregular in outline,
but striking in effect, and may well be called " a romance in
stone and lime." The general style of the structure is the
Scottish Baronial, and it is safe to say that the whole world
beside has nothmg like it. On it and the estate upwards of
;^5o,ooo have been spent. The house is approached by a
gateway leading to an open court or lawn of about half an
acre and has a frontage of nearly 160 feet. The rear windows
overlook the river Tweed.
It is surrounded by plantati9ns of oak, birch, mountain-
ash and pine, interspersed with* a profusion of lilac, laburnum
and shrubbery. The grounds and plantations, as well as the
house, were all the creations of the immortal proprietor. Sir
Walter says, '* My heart clings to the place I have created ;
there is scarce a tree on it that does not owe its being to me."
And the taste of the proprietor is still so evident that we were
fascinated by the quaintness and the beauty.
'• Well might we deem that wizard wand
Had set us down in fairy land."
Abbotsford contains relics and curiosities from every part
of the world. Visitors are admitted by a side entrance, and
while waiting in the entry for a guide, we had time to look at
the pictures on the walls. Many of them were battle scenes,
border raids, shipwrecks, etc., and having looked at the \ we
thought we could understand in some degree how Scott was
able to paint such vivid word pictures of similar scenes.
8 THROUGH SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES.
While looking at the curiosities in one of the rooms, my
attention became fixed on a peculiar-looking powder horn.
After some demurring on the part of our guide, I induced him
to let me examine it, and, to his astonishment, as well as my
own, I found a map of the state of New York etched upon its
surface. It probably belonged to some British officer who
had fought in the American Revolutionary war.
Among the many things which I noticed were a huge war-
horn from Hermitage Castle. Rob Roy's gun, the Marquis of
Montrose's sword, the pistols of Claverhouse, the pistols of
Napo'jon found in his carriage after the battle of Waterloo,
the kjys of Lochlevin Castle, fished from the bottom of the
lake ; the great chest in which the bride in the song of '* The
Mistletoe Bough " unwittingly locked herself and was smoth-
ered ;• b-r-a-n-k-s for the cure of scolding women ; irons for
fastening martyrs to the stake ; old arms and armour of all
ages and styles, and other things of interest without number.
I saw there an ebon\' chair presented by George IV.; two
carved chairs presented by the Pope ; an ebony writing desk
by George III.; the silver urn given by Lord Byron.
Among the many portraits on the walls is one of Scott's
only son Walter, Lieutenant-Colonel in the x5th Hussars.
He is standing beside his war-horse. The young man died
on his way home from India to inherit the estate in 1847,
when, by the '"ruit of his father's brain, it had been redeemed
from the incu..ibrances placed upon it by the disasters of
1825. The study contains 20,000 volumes still arranged as
they were left by their owner. The present owner of Abbots-
ford is the daughter of J. R. Hope-Scott, Q.C., and grand-
daughter of Sir Walter.
Within those walls of stone, adorned with so many strange
and interesting relics, the genius of Scott called to life again
the departed dead of years long gone by, and brought into
being many quaint and amusing characters that peopled the
dreams and visions of his fertile brain, and constructed those
fascinating tales in prose and verse that have made his readers
laugh and weep by turns, and have amused alike the golden
haired child and his gray-haired sire. Yet Sir Walter'*
readers did not all appreciate him in the same way. In on(
THROUGH SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES. 9
of his many tours through the north of England, he met an
old servant who exclaimed, " I'm varra glad to see ye again.
I ha'e gotten some o' thae story-books o' yours yet, an' they're
just grand. Whiles I canna sleep, and then I just tak' ane o'
your books an' read a wee bit, and wow ! I'm fast asleep in
five minutes."
On Sept. 2ist, 1832, in the dining-room at Abbotsford, Sir
Walter breathed his last, and it was with sorrow as for the
death of a dear friend that his millions of readers and admir-
ers learned that the magic wand of the ** Wizard of the North"
had lost its power, that the throbbing heart had ceased to
beat and the fertile brain to think, and five days later the
mortal remains of the great departed were taken to Dryburgh
and laid to rest in St. Mary's aisle, the most beautiful as well
as the most interesting part of Dryburgh Abbe5^
Returning to Melrose, we took train for the Athens of the
North, where we spent the night.
Tuesday, April 22nd, we started for the battle-field of
Bannockburn, A run of half an hour from the Waverly Sta-
tion brought us to Linlithgow, nearly 20 miles west of Edin-
burgh. Linlithgow had a Royal Castle and an endowed
Church as far back as the reign of David I., Edward I. of
England, who had encamped here the night before the battle
of Falkirk (1298) also wintered here in 1301, and next year
built " a pele (castle) mekill and strong," which in 1313 was
captured by thp Scots through the assistance of Wm. Bun-
nock, or Binning, and his famous hay cart. He was em-
ployed to draw hay to the garrison, and the vScots, with his
connivance, concealed several of their number in the load of
hay. Then he contrived to stick the load fast in the gateway,
so that the portcuUus could not fall. Immediately those con-
cealed in the hay sprang from their place of concealment.
Their comrades who had been in ambush hastened forward,
and, creeping through beneath the cart, their combined
strength was sufficient to overpower the guard, capture the
garrison and take possession of the castle.
An expedient so bold so bravely executed, and in a right
eous cause assuredly deserved success. It is a notable illus-
tration of what true patriotism will inspire brave men to do
10 THROUGH SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES.
and dare for country and for freedom. It has but one parallel
in history— the wooden horse which enabled the Greeks to
capture ancient Troy.
A magnificent palace was subsequently built on the site of
the castle. Of it Scott wrote : —
" Of all the palaces so fair
Built for the royal dwelling
In Scotland, far beyond compare
Linlithgow is excelling.
And in its park in genial June
How sweet the merry linnet's tune.
How blithe the blackbird's lay.
The wild buck bells from thorny brake,
The coot dives merry on the lake,
The saddest heart might pleasure take
To view a scene so gay."
The palace was burned in 1424 and was rebuilt chiefly by
James III , V., VI. It is a large quadrangular pile with
corner turrets. It stands on an eminence projecting into the
lake, a sheet of water about 100 acres in extent. It was once
the Versailles of Scotland, a favorite residence of the Scottish
kings, and often formed part of the marriage settlement of
their consorts. James V. was born within its walls in 1512,
and his beautiful and unfortunate daughter Mary in 1542.
The national parliament, which had often sat in the palace,
met there for the last time in 1646. At Linlithgow James III.
sought safety when in danger of assassinatiofi. From here
Queen Margaret beheld her husband, James IV., depart for
Flodden, and from one of the turrets she watched for his re-
turn, and it is still called *' Queen Margaret's Bower." In the
adjoining Church of St. Michael, in the aisle dedicated to St.
Catherine, SirWaker Scott, in •* Marmion," makes the appar-
ition burst upon the sight of James to warn him against his
expedition to Flodden. Castle and church are both visible
from the railway station and look very picturesque. (There
is now a project on foot to restore this church at an estimated
cost of ;^i5,ooo.)
Linlithgow (the town on the grey lake) was once a place
of considerable importance, and being the seat of a royal pal-
ace was the scene of many stirring and important events,
THROUGH SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES. 11
Besides those already referred to, I might mention that the
University of Edinburgh took refuge at LinHthgow from the
plague in 1645-6. In 1570 the Regent Moray was assassin-
ated in the High Street of the town. The Scottish Covenant
was publicly burned there in 1661. Prince Charles Edward
marched through the town in 1745, and the palace was burned
by Hawley's dragoons in 1746.
Passing thence we soon reached Stirling. Alighting on
the platform, we walked to a stand whence 'Buses start every
hour for the village of Bannockburn, three miles distant. As
they pass within a short distance of the battlefield, we took
our seats in one, and with others rumbled along the uneven
streets of the old town, and presently alightmg made the re-
mainder of the journey on foot to the most renowned of Scot-
land's many battlefields, and the most important in its results,
— Bannockburn.
That we may understand how this battle was brought
about let us take a brief survey of the chief incidents in
Scottish history immediately preceding it.
When Alexander III. died, and his daughter, the Maid
of Norway, who was next in suceession, no less than thir-
teen claimants appeared for the Scottish throne. Edward
I. of England, was asked to arbitrate in the matter, when,
instead of deciding according to the then rule of succes-
sion that the throne belonged to Bruce, the grandson of
David, brother of William the Lion, he gave the throne to
John Baliol, a great-grandson of the same David, because
the latter promised to acknowledge the supremacy of Ed-
ward, though Edward had by treaty acknowledged Scot-
land's independence.
Scarcely was Baliol crowned ere Edward made him feel
that he was king but in name. Baliol resented and resisted
his supremacy and after a brief war was taken prisoner",
carried captive to London, and vanished from Scottish his-
tory. King Edward at this time carried away from Scone
the Sacred Stone on whi^h the Scottish kings were crowned
hoping that with it, the Stone of Destiny, the independence
of Scotland would cease ; a delusion from which he was
soon rudely awakened.
12 THROUGH SCO'TAND ON CllUTCHBS.
Edward's knights and nobles lorded it over the unhappy
nation with a high hand till Sir William Wallace, the
Knight of Elderslie, sprung to arms, stung to action by the
murder of his wife, and struck for vengeance and for na-
tional freedom. Though struggling against tremendous odds
success crowned his efforts. Castle after castle was taken
by a combmation of the most marvellous daring and skill ;
army after army was forced to fly, till not a single English
garrison remained on Scottish soil. Then the noble Wallace
carried the war into England, that he might take thence food
to save bleeding, starving Scotland from perishing by famine.
Edward's ablest generals could not cope with this un-
trained soldier, this man of the people. At Cambus Kenneth
(near Stirling), with only 5,000 men, he met in one day three
English armies of 20,000, 30,000, and 10,000, respectively, de-
feated them in turn, and took them all prisoners. Even the
proud and haughty Edward, till now invincible, was made to
fly before Scotland's patriot chief.
Threats, promises, bribes were all tried upon this noble
man to move him from his purpose, but in vain. At length
rhe English king set a price upon his head. He was betrayed
for the love of gold, carried captive to London, tried as a
traitor, and, though he owed no allegiance to Edward, was
found guilty of treason. The noblest knights at Edward's
court, his daughter, aye, his queen, pleaded for the life of this
patriot, one of the grandest, truest that ever breathed.
Edward denied their prayers, declaring that while Wallace
lived even his throne was not safe, and b}' that very declara-
tion admitted that this knight of Elderslie, this uncrowned
patriot was greater than he. On August 23rd, 1305, the pride
and glory of Scotland was hanged, drawn, and quartered
vvith the greatest brutality.
Edward fondly hoped that with Wallace would expire the
Scottish spirit of independence, but he was quickly made to
feel how sorely he had deceived himself. He had kept the
Bruces at his court by promises of the Scottish crown —
promises that were never intended to be fulfilled — but now
Robert Bruce, grandson of the claimant, startled by Edward's
inhuman cruelty, awakened from his lethargy and fled to
THROUGH SCOTLAND ON CRUT0HB8. 13
Scotland, determined to win his country's freedom and her
crown, or perish in the attempt.
Time would fail me to follow, even briefly, his chequered
career. Suffice it to say that though the patriotic cause many
times seemed lost, yet still the king did not despair. Through
cold, hunger, and poverty; through desertion, defeat, and
treachery, he struggled on till now the claim of the king of
England to the possession of Scotland hung on the chance of
a single fight. Of all the Scottish castles, only Bothwell and
Stirling remained in the hands of the English ; and the latter,
the key to Scotland, was closely invested by the Scottish
army. To the relief of this castle came Edward II. of Eng
land, on June 23rd, 1314, with 40,000 horsemen, 50,000
archers, 10,000 bill-men and spear-men, besides an innumer-
able number of camp followers. It is declared to have been
the most numerous and best-equipped army that ever before
or since took the field on British ground.
From England, Ireland, Wales, and Normandy had been
gathered the flower of their chivalry, that by one overwhelm-
ing blow the inborn Scottish love of liberty might be forever
crushed On came this great armament, troop after troop,
like the waves of a mighty ocean. A space of five square
miles flung back the sun's rays, dyed with every brilliant tint,
from gorgeous standards, burnished arms, and glittering
armour. Over hill and dale and stream surged this immense
host in terrible array.
At Bannockburn lay Bruce with only 30,000 Scots ; but
every man " trained to arms in stern misfortune's field," full
of confidence in the prowess and sagacity of his heroic chief,
animated by an almost savage feeling of wrath and resent-
ment against the invaders, and determined to do or die for his
loved ones, his home, and national freedom.
One advantage alone the Bruce possessed over his foe —
he could choose his ground — and that choice evinced the
most consummate military skill. My cousin and I made our
way to the flagstaff which stands on the summit of a small
hill close to the ** bore stoae," where the standard of Bruce
was planted, and the field of Bannockburn lay before us. And
what a field for a battle I What a position fgr the commander
14 THROUGH SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES.
of the Scottish forces ! From the *' bore stone " the whole of
the field of Bannockbiirn is visible No other spot on that
field would have suited the Bruce so well. Away to the rear
flowed the river Forth like a thread of silver in a carpet of
green In front, at the bottom of a gentle declivity, with a
circular sweep flowed the Bannock, which played such an
important part in that fateful day. To the left was the old
Roman Road, which was well guarded lest the English horse-
men should dash along it, and take the Scots army in flank
and rear. To the right rear lay the village of St. Ninian and
Stirling Rock and Castle, for the possession of which the
battle was fought, while near by and in full view was the
glorious, inspiring field of Cambus-Kenneth. Beyond and
all around was a vast amphitheatre of hills, which shut in the
field and completed the lovely picture.
The right wing of the Scottish army commanded by
Edward Bruce rested on the Bannock, which there rushed
and foamed between precipitous crags that effectually
guarded it from any flanking movements of the enemy. The
left wing, commanded by Lord Douglas and Sir Walter Fitz-
Alan, High Steward of Scotland, extended away eastward
almost to the old Roman Road. In front of this wing
stretched a field of brushwood that seemed to offer an admir-
able ground for the operations of cavalry, but was m reality
so honey-combed with rows of deep pits as to threaten the
complete destruction of any such force. The centre was com-
manded by Randolph, Earl of Moray. In front were the
Halbert and Milton bogs, with a space of firm ground, about
five hundred yards in width, between them. This was the
only possible approach for the English horsemen, and it, too,
had been honey-combed Vvrith pits covered with brush and
. grass Here, on this vantage ground, so beautiful in peace,
so soon to be the theatre of deadly, murderous strife, the
Bruce, with only 30,000 patriots, but every man resolved to
conquer or die, calmly, prayerfully awaited the coming of the
haughty Edward, with his hundred thousand chosen steel-
clad warriors.
About 4 in the afternoon of the 23rd of June, the van-
guard of the English army came in sight clad in all the gor
THUOUGU SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES. 15
f,^eous panoply of war. As they advanced, 800 horse were
detached from the main body, and attempted to steal unper-
ceived to the reUef of Stirhnj,' Castle. But nothing escaped
the eagle eye of Bruce ; and Lord Randolph Moray, with
only 80 spear-men, was sent to intercept them. He halted
his little band at a place that the English must pass ere they
could reach the castle ; and, the first rank kneeling, the sec-
ond stooping, the third erect, with his triple line of steel
awaited the charge of 800 horse.
On they came at full speed, thinking to crush their enemy
beneath their feet, but not a horseman passed that line of
steel. Horses, speared and terrified, turned and fled, or fell
on their riders, crushing many a gallant knight. With that
rushing, living tide surging against them, Lord Randolph
and his heroes stood like stubborn rock. The enemy, unable
to break the solid phalanx, turned and retreated to the main
body, leaving many dead and wounded on the field, while the
Scots did not lose a single man.
As the evening wore on, Kmg Robert, clad in complete
armour and mounted on a strong and active pony, rode once
and again over the field in full view of both armies. At
length, approaching much nearer the English army than his
own. Sir Henry de Bohun, a knight of great size and strength,
secretly mounted his charger, and, giving him the spur,
dashed forward with lightning swiftness, hoping to slay the
unprepared king, and end the war with a single blow. Calm
and collected, seemingly unconscious of his danger, King
Robert waited his approach. On came the mighty warrior ;
but, just as every eye looked for Bruce to be hurled to earth,
the pon}^ obeying his master's hand, swerved aside, the king
rose in his stirrups, his battle-axe flashed a moment in the sun,
and Sir Henry, cloven from helmet to throat, rolled dead on
the field, while the battle-axe was shivered to fragments by
the blow.
At this, the enthusiasm of the Scots knew no bounds.
Bruce called his chiefs about him, and spoke eloquent words
of encouragement, praised the Almighty for such a prosper-
ous beginning, and then retired to the little Kirk of St. Ninian,
where he spent the greater part of the night in prayer.
16 THROUGH SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES.
Throufj^hout the ni^ht, silence reigned in the Scottish camp.
Tiie English spent the night in drunken revelry.
When morning dawned, both armies were drawn up in
battle array. There was no change in the Scottish lines,
save that Bruce, now mounted on his magnificent charger,
took up his position beside the royal standard at the " bore
stone " When all was ready for the onset ot the English,
suddenly and smiultaneously, as if it were the action of one
man, the Scottish army sank one knee to earth, and every
head bent low in adoration. Kihg Edward saw the act, and
exultingly cried *• See, they kneel; they plead for mercy!"
It was even so ; but they knelt to a greater than he, even the
Lord of Hosts, '• who great in might and strong in battle is."
Then the Abbot of InchafFray, in full canonicals, walked
slowly and majestically along the Scottish lines, pronouncing
his blessing on their brief and fervid prayer, and exhorting
them to fight for liberty and fatherland.
Struck v^rith awe, the English stood still with the signal for
the onset on their lips. The Abbot passed from sight, the
kneeling warriors sprung to their feet, the English trumpets
sounded the charge, and, flanked by a great multitude of
archers, the horsemen rushed like a whirlwind on the Scot-
tish lines, while the archers covered their attack with a dis-
charge of arrows, so thick, so close, that the very sky was
obscured. Onward they rushed in full career, till the fore-
most ranks encountered the rows of pitfalls ; then down they
sank to rise no more. Those behind pressed on, crushing to
death those before, who had fallen in the pits. The grand
order of battle was broken, yet on they rushed against the
" dense woods of Scottish spears," only to be hurled back
with terrible slaughter. Again and again they strove to pen-
etrate the solid ranks of the Scottish spearmen. Horses,
wounded, reared and plunged, or fell to earth, crushing to
death their own masters, the wounded and the dying
Lords Moray and Douglas, with their spearmen, bore
down on the advancing Enghsh infantry, but the flights of
arrows from the English archers fell among them with deadly
effect. Bruce, perceiving this, sent Sir Robert Keith with
500 horsemen clad in steel, who fell upon them unawares in
TIIHOUOII SCOTLAND ON CRUTCIIES." 17
flank and rear, and put tliem to flight ; and Douglas and
Moray, no longer liarassed by the archers, repelled every
attack of the English infantry.
Gallant bodies of horsemen flung themselve-s in quick suc-
cession against the Scots, but only to meet their death.
Order had long since disappeared from the English raiiks,
while the Scots, cool, firm, inflexible, pressed forward, deal-
ing destruction at every step.
The English strove, by force of numbers, to turn the tide
of battle. King Edward flew from post to post, from group
to group, from rank to rank, urging, entreating, command-
ing them to stand and make one last desperate effort for
England's honour ; but the day was already hopelessly lost.
The flower of the English chivalry lay helpless in the pits or
on tlie green sward, trampled to death by flying, struggling
steeds frenzied with pain, cut down bv Scottish claymores, or
surrendering themselves unresisting prisoners of war. 3ruce,
on his gallant charger, dashed over the field. The bravest
knights of England fled before him, as from one who was
more than mortal. He was, indeed, the controlling, guiding
spirit of that mighty strife.
On every side rose shouts of victory, and then, suddenly,
as if they had sprung from the bowels of the earth, an
immense army appeared on the top of the Gillie's Hill, and,
with terrible cries, rushed towards the battlefield. It was
only the Scottish camp-followers, but the sight struck t( rror
to every English heart. They waited not to examine the
cause of their terror. The trumpets sounded the retreat, and,
fast as their panting steeds could fly, the English fled that
fatal field. But, alas ! hedged in between their pursuers and
the river Bannock, unable to retreat hastily, they were thrown
into utter confusion, and, rushing they knew not whither,
great numbers either stuck fast in the Milton Bog and were
smothered, or were drowned in the Bannock, whose channel
was choked with the bodies of horses and men.
Edward fled in despair. It was no longer a battle, but a
rout. But victors and vanquished were both weary, and
when evening settled down upon the field, the strife of war
had ceased, and silence reigned. Thirty thousand English
warriors lay dead upon the field, and Scotland was free.
18 rrauouGU Scotland on crutches.
" When the summer moon rode high in the starht
heavens, the scene, was changed. Surrounded by his nobles,
kiii[(hts, and soldiers, bare-headed, and lowly bending to the
blood-stained earth, the king of Scotland knelt to join in the
fervid thanksgiving offered up by the Abbot of Inchaffray to
that Almighty God of battles, from whom alone king and
noble, night and serf, acknowledged with heartfelt gratitude
and humility that glorious triumph came. Not a sound
broke the solemn stillness, save the fervid accents of the ven-
erable man, and the deep responses of the thousands kneel-
ing round. There, in sight of the dead and dying, the sil-
very moon gleaming back from the armor they had had no time
to doff, the weapons they had wielded so bravely and well
cast from the hands now crossed upon their breasts in
prayer, the unheJmeted heads low bent " — there knelt that
victorious army, their brave hearts filled with one grand,
thrilling emotion of gratitude and thanksgiving. Was not the
last link of slavery broken ? Was not Scotland free ?
Scotland, for independence' sake, maintained, during
nearly 400 years, an almost continuous struggle with her
more powerful and grasping neighbor, and at the battle of
Bannockburn she finally vindicated her right to that inde-
pendence by proving to her would-be conqueror and to all
the world that she was able to maintain it. After the battle
of Bannockburn. Robert Bruce laid aside his sword no longer
needed, and for fifteen years he reigned the idolized king of
the nation he had deliverer' As an administrator and legis-
lator, he showed an ability i ot surpassed by that which he had
manifested as a warrior and general. Brave, liberal, wise and
pious, he was a monarch such as the world has seldom seen.
As we stood by the "bore stone" gazing on that field
where the proud, patriotic, liberty-loving Scots so gallantly
repelled the serried hosts of England, our bosoms swelled
with the patriotic spirit which animated our ancestors, and
nerved them for the fight. My companion, gifted with a rare
power of song, burst forth with :—
" Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots wham Bruce has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed
Or to victory."
THROUGH SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES. 19
And never did that patriotic song sound so grandly to me
as it did then, when sung on the very place where the Muse-
inspired Burns, on the very soil which had been stained by
the blood of mv ancestors, shed to maintain inviolate their
hearths and homes, and S otland's independence. Together
we took a walk over that field where the fate of a nation was
decided, and down to and across the Bannock, which played
such an important part in that momentous day. Returning,
I picked up a pebble about three feet from the " bore stone,"
to bring away as a memento of my visit ; and, walking on
toward Stirling, I turned, and turned again, to look upon that
field that I might call.it up when far awav.
Leaving Stirling, we next stopped at Doune, and meeting
with a rare specimen of the Highlander of bygone days, Mr.
Duncan McLaren, he very kindly volunteered to escort us to
Doune Castle, a fine old relic of the feudal ages. It is situ-
ated on the point of land at the junction of the Ardoch Burn
and the river Teith. It is bounded on the east by the Ardoch
Burn, on the west and south by the river Teith, and on the
north by a ditch extending between those waters.
" The Castle buildings form a large quadrangle, the halls
and domestic apartments occupying the entire front or north
side, and about half the extent of the west side The
remainde; is occupied by a strong wall 38 feet high and 7
feet thick, inclosing an inner court about 105 feet square."
Outside of this again, and close to the inner slope of the dry
ditch, was a second wall, from 8 to 10 feet high, v/ith bastions
at tiie corners. The style of the buildings leads to the
beliaf that the castle was built in the fourteenth century,
but exactly when or by whom is not known.
It is divided into two distinct sets of apartments — the
judicial and the residential. The judicial comprise the guard-
room, prison, court-room, or barons' hall, with the strong
room adjoining it and immediately over the inner prison.
At the entrance there can still be seen the fastenings for
the check-chain which \va^^ drawn across when the gate was
left open, to prevent the sudden entrance of horsemen
There is also the place for the portcullis, which could be
hoisted or let down at pleasure from the window in the barons'
20 THROUGH SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES.
hall above. The portcullis no longer exists, but the gate still
remains. It is formed of heavy bars of iron, interlaced in a
curious manner, that adds greatly to its strength.
On the right of the entrance is the guard-room, with a
place for temporary confinement. On the left is the prison,
consisting of three vaulted cells, two of them with lights
opposite the guard-room; the inner one is entirely dark.
From the first cell there is a square opening in the top lead-
ing to the barons' or judgment hall. Through this opening
prisoners were taken for trial, and if found deserving of death
were removed to the adjoining room, and let down through
a similar opening to the inner or condemned cell.
Passing between the guard-room on the one hand and the
prison on the other, we entered the court through another
strong gate. In the centre of the court the well, long lost,
has been discovered, cleaned out, and repaired ; and now
contains abundance of good water, pleasant to the taste.
Ascending a stone stair we found ourselves in the barons'
hall, 43 feet long, 26 wide, and 23 high. It has been
restored, as nearly as can be ascertained, to what it was like
centuries ago. The floor has been relaid as of yore, with red,
buff and black tiles. In the roof are still to be seen the orig-
inal rings from which the chandeliers were suspended. In
the east wall are two large fire-places, with the original stone
mouldings, and iron f^rates of the sixteenth century. The
hall has been fitted up in the fourteenth century style as
a judgment hall The furniture consists of a large table,
state chair, with the armorial bearings of the Earl of Moray,
the proprietor, beautifully carved thereon, and two smaller
chairs, each surmounted with a coronet. There are seven
forms and three stools. One of the latter has a brass plate
inserted, bearing an inscription stating that the whole of the
furniture of that room had been made from the wood of the
old gallows tree which grew in front of Doune Castle, and
was blown down in November, T.878. The stump of the tree
still remains
Close to the entrance to the barons' or judgment hall is
the door leading into the great banqueting hall, 67 feet long,
26 wide, and 40 high. At the east end is a dais elevated
THROUGH SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES. 2l
about five inches, and in the centre of the floor is the hearth
and fender of an open fire-place, octagonal in shape, the
smoke passing through an aperture in the roof. At the west
end is a serving room with a minstrel's gallery above. This
hail must have been very imposing in appearance, and singu-
larly well adapted for the style of rude and generous hospi-
tality of the feudal ages, when every follower found a seat
at his lord's table and a place at his hearth.
Near the banqueting hall is the kitchen, with its monster
fire-place i8 feet wide, in which a whole ox might have been
roasted. In the huge chimney a remarkable provision was
made for the purpose of ventilation. .1 climbed to the roof
of this old castle, and found the parapets on the top of the
wall, both on the inside and the outside, in a good state of
preservation. These parapets are breast high, about two feet
thick, with a pathway three feet wide between for the
defenders of the castle in time of war. .
The old castle was frequently the abode of royalty. A
room is still pointed out as Queen Mary's room. The castle
was held by the followers of Prince Charles Edward in 1745-
6. Tames I. and II. frequently resided in it. Sir Walter Scott
makes the Knight of Snowdon sleep at Doune Castle the
night previous to the chase, in the '* Lady of the Lake."
Wandering through this old castle, I was able, by the help
of the imagination, to call up the scenes of bygone days in
the stirring times when might was right, when every man
acted on the principle : —
" He may get who has the power,
And they may keep who can."
I heard again the deep baying of the hounds, the shrill
blast of the hunter's horn echoing through the forest glen,
and beheld the wild whirlwind of the chase as hunters and
steeds went thundering by. I gathered with the baron's
retainers to the grand banquet in the banqueting hall after
the chase, the table graced with a wild boar's head as its cen-
tre-piece, while it groaned beneath the smoking haunches of
venison, wild-fowl and fish, and wine and ale flowed free,
22 THROUGH SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES.
and gable and rafter resounded with laughter and jest. I saw
the travel-stained messenger, breathless with exertion, dash
into the hall, unannounced, and startle baron and retainers
alike with the stern cry : " The foe ! To arms ! To arms !"
I beheld again the wild assault, the stubborn defence, the
fierce hand to hand encounter, while vaulted arch and cor-
ridor resounded with the clang of mail and the clash of arms.
I heard the fierce shouts of the combatants echo through the
lofty chambers, the stern defiance hurled from wall and
tower, and the dying groans of its brave defenders done to
death.
I pictured to myself the scenes that not once but many
times were enacted within its walls, in which truth and right
and honor and love contended, too oft unsuccessfully, with
pride and anger, jealousy and greed. I sat with the prisoner
in the dungeon keep, shared his scanty crust, his htter of
straw, and his agony pf suspense.. I heard the brutal jests
and oaths of the rough soldier guard, dreamt the horrible
dreams of the prisoner's uneasy slumber, and was startled to
consciousness again by the grating of bolts and bars, and the
creaking of hinges as the prison door swung open.
I stood in the old judgment hall, and saw again the
trembling criminal, the stern judge, the soldier guard, and
the rabble throng. I watched the rough and ready, ustice
that too often hanged the prisoner first and tried him after-
wards. I heard the death sentence pronounced, and fol-
lowed the noisy, surging rabble throng to the gallows tree on
the green, where, with scarce time to breathe a prayer for
mercy, the poor wretch, alas ! too often innocent, was sus-
pended from an overhanging bough, where he was left sway-
ing in the wind, a warning to others, till bone dropped from
bone and dust returned to kindred dust.
Having purchased a photograph of Mary Queen of Scots,
a volume of Scotch poems bound in wood from the old gal-
lows tree, and some other trifles as souvenirs of my visit, I
was presented with a " Guide to Doune Castle," by the cus-
todian, Mr. James Dunbar, formerly of the 79th Cameron
Highlanders, and, blading adieu to him and to our kind old
Highland f-iend, we stepped on the train once more and
THllOUGH SCOTLAND ON CRUTCIIBS. 23
were soon at Callander, where travellers alight to '* do " the
Trossachs, the scene of Scott's "Lady of the Lake." We
had been drenched with rain both at Bannockburn and
Doune, and now, when we stepped on to the platform at the
Callander station, it was again coming down in torrents.
Having found comfortable quarters in the Biggs* Hotel, we
learned that we were a week too early ; that the coaches only
ran to the " Trossachs Hotel," and not to Loch Katrine ; that
the steamer was not yet running, even if we should reach the
lake. Here was a state of things not calculated to put one
in the happiest of moods. We had been misled by a notice
in the Edmburgh papers. To return without seemg the
Trossachs was not to be thought of, yet to go on seemed
impossible. But there is nothing like tr3'ing. A friend in
Edinburgh had given me the name and address of a Callander
gardener, Mr. Thos. Ritchie, and I determined to send for
him. Very soon he, made his apptaarance, and proved him-
self one of Nature's noblemen. He very kindly volunteered
to harness his pony, and drive myself and my friend to Loch
Katrine next morning ; and most gladly we availed ourselves
of his kind offer.
Next morning we had the pleasure of meeting, at the
breakfast table, a lady whom we learned was a granddaughter
of Scott'^ * Old Mortality." She was getting well on in life,
had travelled extensively, and was very intelligent and
chatty.
Promptly at 9 o'clock, Mr. 1 . chie drove up to the hotel
dooi", according to appomtment. It was a cold, dreary morn-
ing, with frequent showers, and just then the rain was com-
ing down in torrents ; but, donning our mackintoshes, we
climbed into the *' machine '" and started. Away to the
north-east lies " Glenartney," where the stag spent the night
before the chase in the " Lady of the Lake," and at a less
distance Uam Var, the highest point of the Braes of Doune,
for which he made when disturbed by the hounds and
hunters : —
" The noble stag was pausing now
Upon the mountain's southern brow ;
With anxious eye he wandered o'er
•24 TllUOUail SCOTLAND ON CRUTCllEa
Mountain and meadow, moss and moor,
And pondered refuge from his toil
By far Loch Ard or Aberfoyle,"
which lie away to the south-west.
" But nearer was the copse- wood grey
That waved and wept on Loch Achray,''
which is almost directly west. Off we ^6 with Ben Ledi
before us Soon we come to Bochastle Heath, and then to
Coilantof^fle Ford, where Fitz-James foup^ht the duel with
Roderick Dim ; and in a few moments to Loch Vennachar,
which is a beautiful sheet of water of considerable length, but
no great width.
On the top of a hill a little west of Callander is an
immense boulder, which is 'called ** Samson's Putting-
Stane." It is said that Samson, who, according to High-
land tradition, once lived here, took a '• skunner " at some of
the citizens of Callander, and determined to destroy the
town. So, one morning before breakfast he went out, and,
standing on the top of Ben Ledi, hurled this immense rock at
the town ; but, not having had his breakfast, he was not able
to throw the stone as far as he intended, and so Callander
escaped, but the stone remains to this day. This is the story
of " Samson's Putting-Stane" substantially as Mr. Ritchie
told it.
While we drove along, he beguiled our way with enter-
taining chat about places and individuals. Two gentlemen
once came to Callander, and, desiring to go a-fishing, bar-
gained with one Norman Macfarlane, a half-witted character,
to conduct them to a good fishing ground. The recompense
demanded and agreed upon was five shillings and a pint of
whiskey. The gentlemen being read) , and Norman having
received his whiskey in advance, the party started for Loch
Vennachar. On the way thither Norman kept tasting the
whiskey, and when they reached the fishing ground his pint
was almost gone. Pushing out into the lake, fish were soon
found, and presently the gentlemen took out a bottle, and
tasted some rare old " mountain dew." Norman followed
TTtROUfill SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES. 25
their example, and finished his. The next time they tasted,
Norman asked to drink with them, but was told he had
already got his share "Aweel, aweel," said Norman, "if
she'll trink alane, she'll fush alane," and, leaping overboard,
swam ashore, leaving the gentlemen to get on as best they
could.
Crossing ** Laurick Mead," the mustering place of Roder-
ick Dhu's clan, we soon came to Glen Finlas, inhabited only
by Stewarts, who all claim to be descendants of Prince
Charles Edward, the Pretender. They are very reserved
with strangers, and marry'only Stewarts.
In this glen we crossed the " Brigg o' Turk," where " the
headmost horseman rode alone," and here we encountered
the bitterest storm of rain and hail I have ever had to endure.
The glen seemed ^a sort of funnel i,nto which the storm drew,
and along which it rushed at a high rate of speed. It
dashed full in our faces, and every lump of hail made our
faces sting, while the chill, moisture-laden, mountain air
seemed to freeze our very vitals, and right glad were we
when the storm had spent its fury, and the bright sun shone
out once more.
Away to the left is Aberfoyle, where once lived a woman
known as '* Muckle Kate McGregor," said to have been the
largest woman that ever lived in Scotland Kate was licensed
to sell spirits, and many a tourist called at Kate's and asked
for a glass of the "crater," solely to get a peep at Kate.
Brawley she knew what their object was. But woe to the
patron who was ignorant of Kate's method of doing busi-
ness. If he laid down a crown in payment, Kate never gave
back any change ; but pocketed the coin, with her blandest
smile and " Thenk ye, sir ; I'm rael muckle obleeged tae ye.
Ye're awfu' leeberal." If he unwarily laid down a guinea or
a sovereign, it was all the same. All was grist that came to
Kate's mill. When the Queen was staying at the Trossachs
some years ago, her servants soon heard of " Muckle Kate,"
and went in troops to see her, and, of course, she knew well
why they came. The r( po t they carried back aroused the
curiosity of the Princess jieatrice, and she, too, went. When
she entered Kate's humble dwelling, Kate remarked : " An'
26 THROUGH SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES.
ye'll be anither o' the Queen's lassies." Her visitor told her
that she was the Qii^en's daughter. Kate replied: "Oii,
indeed! its no' easy kennin ye." When Muckle Kate died
some years ago, her remains had to be taken out at the win-
dow, as the door was not large enough.
Driving on past Loch A'.hray, Ben An arose on the one
hand, and the bold cliffs of Ben Venue on the other.
" The hunter marked that mountain high,
The lone lake's western boundary.
And deemed the stag must turn to bay
Where that huge rampart barred the way.
♦ sk * * ♦
The wily quarry shunned the shock,
And turned him from the epposin^ rock ;
Then dashing down a darksome glen,
Soon lost to hound and hunter's ken,
In the deep Trossach's wildest nook
His solitary refuge took."
I was pointed to a spot away up on Ben An, where
" The good steed, his labours o'er.
Stretched his stiff limbs to rise no more,"
and some white paint daubed on the rocks is made to do duty
for his bleaching skeleton.
When we had almost reached the Trossachs proper (this
whole district is now called " The Trossachs," though the
name is properly applied to a pass about a quarter of a mile
in length, just before coming to Loch Katrine), we overtook
Captain Monroe, of the steamer '* Rob Roy," which, in the
tourist season, plies on Loch Katrine. Mr. Ritchie intro-
duced us, and told him of our desires and our disappoint-
ment. He regretted that we were just a week too early, and
also that he had no " Highland Cheer " on the '♦ Rob Roy,"
else he would have asked us to go aboard and partake with
him. As we had been drenched with rain the two previous
days, my cousin had that morning taken a flask of spirits
with him. He said that whatever it might be elsewhere, he
had been assured it was a necessity in the Highlands. So,
THROUGH SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES. 27
firawinghi's flask, he invited the captain to taste. He did so.
and then, in the kindest manner possible, volunteered to
send two of his men, if we so desired, to row us to Ellen's
Isle and the Silver Strand. And here let me say that this
seemed to be the one never-failing way to reach a Hi<j:h-
lander's heart in that part of the world, and were we froing
back to the Trossachs again the genial captain of the '* Rob
Roy" would give us a genuiiie Highland welcome.
On reaching the landing, he ordered two of his sailors to
man a boat, and, stepping in, we were soon bounding over
the blue waters of Loch Katrine The sun burst forth in
all his strength after the shower, and
and
•• Each purple peak, each flintv spire,
Was bathed in floods of living 5re,"
*• All twinkling with the raindrops' sheen,
The brier-rose fell in streamers green,
And creeping shrubs of thousand dyes
Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs."
While the sailors plied the oar, we drank in the beauty
and the grandeur, and I thought that rarely, if ever, had my
eyes rested on a lovelier scene. The Highlanders tugged at
the oars, but scarce a word they spoke, till again my cousin
tried his magic spell, when, lo I what a change. Faces bright-
ened, eyes sparkled, and tongues were loosed. Our interest
became that of our boatmen. Every spot of the adjacent local-
ity mentioned in the " Lady of the Lake " was pointed out —
Roderick's Watch-Tower (a rocky pinnacle standing boldly
out on Ben Venue, far above the rest of the mountain), Coir
Uriskin (the Goblin's Cave), the Sliver Strand, with the airy
poiur on the promontory which the knight of Snowdon
readied after a difficult scramble; and, "raptured and
amazed," gazed on the lake, for
" Gleaming in the setting sun,
One burnished sheet of living gold,
Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled."
28 THUOIJOH SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES. |
A Hif^liland storm came rushing down the lake, and our
boatmen pulled hard to gain the shelter of Ellen's Isle ; and
ere it broke on us in all its fury, we glided
" Underneath the aged oak,
That slanted from the islet rock."
Here we rested until the storm was past, and then we made
for the Silver Strand, ''the beach of pebbles bright as
snow."
And here let me say that the Silver Strand was of com-
paratively little extent to what it was in Scott's time. The
outlet of the lake had been dammed up to furnish water
for the city of Glasgow, and the greater part of the Silver
Strand had been submerged. The dam was then being
raised several feet higher, and I presume by this time the
Strand is a thing of the past.
Having secured a few of the pebbles, we pushed off again
to Ellen's Isle, where our boatmen fastened the boat, and,
climbing the rocks, brought back flowers, ivy, heaiher, etc.,
for me to take away as mementoes of my visit.
I was shown where the rustic bower had stood, but shortly
before my visit someone had set it on fire, and it was burned
to the ground, so that it is now no longer possible for me or
any other to
" On heaven and on my lady call,
And enter the enchanted hall."
And no more do •' weird women " there ** cast their spells
on wandering knights."
After we left Ellen's Isle to return to the landing-place, my
cousin sang " Hail to the Chief." How grandly it sounded
out on the bosom of the lake, where Scott represents it to be
sung, with only Nature, in all her loveliness and loneliness,
to listen and applaud. And how wondrously the hills and
rocks caught up the stirring notes and repeated them ; and
when the singer ceased, " lake and hill were busy with the
echoes still." Fa.nter and fainter came the closing strain,
♦♦ dhu, ho, ieroe," and when the last faint, whispering note
THROUGH SCOTLAND ON CRUTCHES. 29
had died away, the Higlilanders, electrified by the song, took
off tlieir bonnets and cheered.
Bidding a grateful adieu to the genial and obliging
Captain Monroe and his men, we began the return journey
to Callander, taking in again every feature of that lovely
glen as we went Having had tea with Mr. Ritchie and his
estimable wiie and daughter, we hastened to the railway sta-
tion, and on the way we met a niece of Lord Macaulay, and
noticed a strange, circular, grass-grown mound of consider-
able size, called by the natives '* Tomahassock," and sup-
posed to have been made by the Romans. Takmg a last
look at Callander, and bidding a grateful farewell to our very
kind friend, Mr, Ritchie, we stepped on the train, and ere
many hours were walking the streets of Glasgow.
And here I desire to bear witness to the faithfulness and
accuracy of Scott. Every rood of the country which is the
scene of the *' Lady of the Lake," he must have travelled
over, noting every feature of the landscape, and every bit of
grandeur and beauty, with the eye ot an artist, while his
memory treasured up all and enabled him to recall it per-
fectly. Others may have travelled over the same district,
have seen the same features, and possessed the same power
of memory, enabling them to recall what they had seen. Yet
who but a Scott could sketch such vivid word-pictures of the
scenes and incidents of the poem that the residents of the
locality should speak of the " Lady of the Lake," not as
fiction, but as reality, ^saying: " Here is 'Glenartney,' where
the stag spent the night before the chase. There is ' Coilan-
togle Ford,' where Fitz James fought the duel with Roderick
Dhu. And yonder is the * aged oak which slanted from the
islet rock.'"
Not only thc^ic of a literary turn of mind, but the tourist
and the lover of the beautiful and grand in nature owe a
flel:)t of gratitude to Scott. The Trossachs has existed for
thousands of years — perhaps for all time,— -but the world in
general knew it not, and might never have known it had not
lie first seen it with his artist eye, and then, with the genius
of an artist, depicted it in the '* Lady of the Lake." And
others, having read this poetic story of the days of chivalry
30 TIIKOUOU SCOTLAND ON CHUTCIIES.
and been thus directed thither, have looked through his eyes,
seen ihe beauties that he saw, and, cnciiantcd with the sur
passing lovehncss, have with heart and voice adored tlie God
who made it ail, and by making it assures us that He not
only loves the beautiful as well as the good and the true, but
also by so constituting us that vse can appreciate and enjoy
it, makes manifest His love and care for us His sinful, erring
children.
It was His hand that traced the course of the •• babbling
brook"; His hand that hollowed out the channel of the
rushing river and the bed of the placid lake ; His hand that
reared aloft the giant mountains that lift their massive forms
on high, and hide their lofty summits in the fleecy clouds of
heaven ; His hand that rent the pristine rocks into fragments
and hurled them together in heaps of awful, rugged gran-
deur ; His hand that clothed them with lichens and mosses,
softening their rough, sharp outlines, and then threw over all
a network of vines and shrubs of thousand dyes, transform-
ing their rough and ruggsd grandeur into the most bewitch-
ing beauty; His hand that planted and nurtured the stately
trees that crown the mountain's brow, and painted the many-
tinted flowers that adorn the valleys and the plains. " O,
Lord, how manifold are Thy works 1 in wisdom hast Thou
made them all." " The heavt ns declare the glory of God,"
and the beauties of earth His love. Would that men, while
contemplating God's countless works of grandeur and oi
beauty in nature (made for our pleasure), would let their
thoughts "rise from nature up to nature's God," and praise
the Lord for His goodness and His love ; and most especi-
ally for that best and greatest manifestation of His love —
Jesus Chi' t. Then would their souls be filled with heaven-
born longings and heaven desiring aspirations; and, having
loved and served and worshipped the God of love here, they
would, at length, go to dwell with Him amid glories and
beauties such as eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor the
heart of man conceived.
Thpough Ireland on a Jaunting Car.
One eveninf^, some years aj^o, I went to hear a lecture on
Ireland by an Irishman He be^an his lecture by declarinpf
ihdii ^^ Ireland is the greatest countrn in the world'' By grtattsi
he did not mean the most extensive, but the most important.
The Irisli are, I believe, above most other people, passionately
attached to their native land. The late Hon. Thomas D'Arcy
McGee gives expression to this love of country in the follow-
ing lines in " The Heart's Restmg-Place " : —
"Where'er I turned, some emblem still
Roused consciousness upon my track ;
Some hill was like an Irish hill,
Some wild bird's whistle called me back,
A sea-bound ship bore off my peace
Between its white cold wings of woe;
Oh ! if I had but wings like these
Where my peace went I too would go."
Well, I presume our Irisli friend was fully mi ler the spell
of this patriotic feeling, else he would not iiave made the
assertion. But Irishmen, as a rule, do nothinj^ by halves,
and this one was no exception to the rule. He not only made
the assertion, but undertook to prove it true. Though his
logic might not convince either you or me, it afforded immense
satisfaction to the Irish ^nirt of his audience, and great
amusement to the rest. You know that logic which would b:
frowned at by hair-splitting Scotchmen, would arouse in an
Irish audience the wildest enthusiasm ; and that which, said
by a Scotchman, would be voted dull and stupid, would, if
said by an Irishman, be called brilliant and witty ; and the
greater the absurdity, the more brilliant the wit.
You have, no doubt, lieard of the Irishman who had livcjl
some years m Philadelphia; and, when speaking one day of
his longing to see the land of his birth once more, got off this
bull : "Plase God, if I live till I die, I'll see Ould Oireland
again before I lave Philadelphia,"
2 THROUGH IRELAND ON A JAUNTING CAR.
Perhaps you have heard, also, of that other one in Ireland
who was denouncing absentee landlords, when a stranger
asked : '* Are there, then, so many of them ? " " Be Gor ! "
said Pat, ** the country's swarmin' wid them."
Crossing the Atlantic from the western world to the Brit-
ish Isles, Ireland, as it looms on the horizon, is the first land
that greets one's eyes that have for days rested on " water,
water everywhere." Of course the sight is a more welcome
one if the passage, like ours, was a rough and dangerous one.
I shall never forget the thrill of pleasure which I felt when, on
the morning of February 2nd, i8go, before day had yet
dawned, I stepped out on the deck of the SS. Parisian, and
saw the beacon lights on the Irish coast. In a little while
the news spread through the ship that land was in sight, and
one and all hurried on deck to take a look at what the New
York Puck calls " Ould Oireland, the land of diviltry and dis-
tress.'' We were just rounamg the headland to enter Lough
Foyle, and soon we were near enough to see, here and there,
patches of that vegetation which, from its richness and green-
ness, cause 1 Ireland to be called the Emerald Isle,
Speaking of the west side of Lrugh Foyle, Sir Walter
Scott says : —
" Nothing can be more favourable nan this specimen of
Ireland— a beautiful variety of cultivated slopes, intermixed
with banks of wood ; rocks skirted with a distant ridge of
heathy hills, watered by brooks ; the glens or banks being in
general planted or covered with copse."
As we passed along the coast, we saw, to the right, var-
ious objects of interest, such as a coast-guard station, a fort,
and an old, rumed, ivy-grown castle, before we met the packet
off Moville, which carries passengers and mails to London-
derry. Going down the Lough again, we saw on the eastern
shore another fort, and then that marvellous natural wonder,
the Giant's Causeway.
Having seen Ireland at a distance, I resolved, if it were
convenient, to pay it a visit.
On Tuesday, May 13th, the convenient time for vksiting
Ireland having arrived, I ran down by rail from Dumfries to
Stranraer and crossed to Larne. The distance between these
THROUHG IRELAND ON A JAUNTIKG CAR. 3
ports is only 39J miles. Formerly it took four hours to make
this short passage. A few days before I crossed, a new side-
wheel steamer, the Princess May, had been put on the route,
and there was a good deal of curiosity manifested as to her
speed. The captain felt no small degree of satisfaction when
he found that the time from when she cast loose at Stranraer
till she was alongside the dock at Larne was only one hour
and fifty-five minutes. It was the first time I had seen a vessel
plough through a calm sea with such speed that the water
ran up the bow and poured over on the deck in a continuous
stream.
Larne is now a flourishing town with extensive manufac-
tures, and a large export and import trade Historically it is
of little interest, except that Edward Bruce, with 6,000 Scots,
landed here in 13 15 to attempt to free Ireland from English
rule.
At Larne I took rail for Belfast, 24 miles distant. The
ride along the shore of Lough Larne is very pleasant. We
soon pass the little village of Ballycarry, interesting as being
the site of the first Presbyterian church in Ireland. The
next place of. interest is Carrickfergus There is an old
castle at Carrickfergus, which is a fine specimen of an ancient
Anglo-Norman fortress. It was taken by Edward Bruce in
1315. William III. landed at this castle in 1690 on his way
to the Boyne.
I reached Belfast about 11 a.m.; and, engaging a jaunting
car soon afterwards, I drove about the city for a couple of
hours to get a general idea of it. Belfast is the principal city
in the North of Ireland, and in size and importance is second
only to Dublin. It is situated at the mouth of the river
Lagan, and is built with considerable regularity ; the principal
streets are wide, and many of the public buildings elegant.
A great part of the town is not more than six feet above high-
water mark, and has been subject to inundations. The har-
bour has been improved, till it is one of the finest in the king
dom ; and, when the improvements nov-i going on are com-
pleted, the largest vessel afloat will be able to enter the port.
While many parts of Ireland are languishing, and the popula-
tion decreasing, Belfast is rapidly growing in population.
4 THROUGH IRELAND ON A JAUNTING CAR.
wealth, and importance. The town is comparatively new. In
1612 it consisted of only 120 huts, and a castle roofed with
shingles. In 1851 the population was 87,000 ; in 1871 it had
become 174,000 ; in 1881, 208,000; in 1891 it was 273,000.
P'ormerly linen was the one great industry of Belfast, and
it was an interesting sight for me to see, at the noon or even-
ing hour, her operatives pouring in a living tide from her
linen factories, — 3,000, 4,000, or 5,000 from each, filling the
street from side to side, and sweeping everything before them
as they surged along. But in recent years many other
industries have been established. Ship-building has assumed
considerable proportions, and the way in which the wrecks
of some of the Belfast-built ships have held together through
repeated storms has given her ship-builders a reputation for
material and workmanship of which larger and more preten-
tious contractors might well be proud.
When I had got slightly acquainted with the general fea-
tures of the city from the jauntmg-car, I went to the office of
Sir James H. Haslett, ex-mayor of the city, and presented a
letter of introduction. Sir James received me most cordially ;
and, as soon as he could leave his office, went out with me,
and we climbed to the top of a street-car, and thus we con-
tinued to " do " the city till nearly 6 p.m., when rain began to
fall and put an end to our sight-seeing.
Alighting from the car, we walked a short distance, when
Sir James, turning to me, said : *' This is our home ; and if
you will accept our hospitality while in the city, you will be
as welcome as the flowers of May."
I was taken completely by surprise. I had expected no such
kindly and courteous invitation ; yet, what could I do — what
should I do — but accept it with thanks, which I did the more
readily when I saw that Sir James had anticipated his invita-
tion by having my valise sent on before ; and, I assure you,
he and Lady Haslett, and their bright, interesting children
made my visit to Belfast a very pleasant one indeed.
I can only refer briefly to a few of the many places of
interest to which Sir James accompanied me. Among them
was the fine new Free Library on Royal Avenue. It con-
tains 20,000 volumes, and the nun^ber is being rapidly
THROUGH IRELAND ON A JAUNTING CAB. 5
increased, while, contrary to what is usually the case, the
majority of the books taken from it are not works of Fiction,
but works on Art, Science, Biography, Travels, etc., which fact
speaks volumes for the intelligence of the citizens of this pro
gressive city.
The reading-room of this really fine institution is already
too small. On the walls are several portraits by Gainsbor-
ough and other great artists. In the main room on the first
floor are excellent full-length portraits in oil of Sir James and
Lady Haslett — a gift from the workingmen of Belfast when
this genial, courteous and talented man was mayor of the
city in 1887.
Mr. Johnston, who is in charge of the Art department,
took great pleasure in escorting me through his rooms, which,
although only in process of being arranged, promise, under
his skilful hand and artistic eye, to be not the least attractive
feature of the institution.
Sir James accompanied me to the new town hall, erected at
a cost of ;^35,ooo. It is a fine building, is well fitted up, ;.nd
on the walls of the Council Chamber hang oil portraits of
many of the ex-mayors of the city. But, though recently
erected; it is already too small, and the site is bad. The old
Linen Hall in Donegall Square has been purchased with the
intention of building a new town hall equal to the require-
ments of this rapidly-growing city ; and, as the site is all that
can be desired and the grounds are extensive, Belfast will no
doubt have reason to be proud of its town hall that is to be.
Of her public buildings, Belfast has no reason to be
ashamed. Her Banks, Custom Pouse, Post Office, and many
of her Churches, both Protestant and Catholic, are quite in
keeping with the needs of a great and progressive city in this
nineteenth century.
I had the pleasure of visiting, with Sir James, the May
Street Presbyterian Church, of which the late lamented Dr.
Cooke was pastor for forty years. In the porch is a hand-
some memorial erected to his memory at a cost of /'600 ; and
on the east side of Donegall Square is a finely-executed bronze
statue of this great and good man, whose name is still revered
by the citizens, and will be for many years to come.
6 THROUGH IRELAND ON A JAUNTING CAR.
As Belfast possesses not only excellent elementary and
model schools, but also the Royal Academical Institution,
Queen's College, the Presbyterian and Methodist Colleges,
the intellectual welfare of the citizens is well cared for.
Their physical comfort and cleanliness is also provided
for, as the city possesses fine public baths, with hot and cold
water and every necessary appliance, under able manage-
ment. There are also large tanks, in which lessons in the art
of swimming are given by competent instructors.
Sir James' little sons, James and Horace, accompanied me
through the beautiful Botanic Gardens, and proved most
attentive and intelligent escorts These gardens are the pro-
perty of a company of shareholders. They are free to them-
selves, their families, and friends. Others are charged a small
admission fee. In these gardens I first heard the notes of the
cuckoo ; but the shy bird could not be seen.
The suburbs of the city contain many fine residences in
beautiful grounds, which are well v/orth seeing, as is also the
People's Park.
Cave Hill, to the north-west of the town, rises 1,140 feet
above the sea ; and, when viewed from a certain direction,
shows the profile of a human face, which the citizens call the
Duke of Wellington's, but the French, Napoleon's.
The Belfast City Council has recently completed a work
of improvement that is a credit to the enterprise and business
sagacity of her public men. The worst slums of the city
were bought by the corporation — the old, dilapidated, vermin-
infested, disease-breeding structures removed — and large,
tasty business blocks erected in their stead ; and Belfast has
now a Royal Avenue where her slums were that would be a
credit to any city, and rivals in beauty the far-famed Sackviile
Street of Dublin, and all without costing the city one penny.
I feft Belfast on the morning of Thursday, May 15th, for
the Giant's Causeway. For some miles our way lay along
Belfast Lough. From Carrickfergus Junction is a pleasant
run across the country to Antrim, on the Six-Mile Water near
Lough Neagh. This lake is the largest in Ireland, and the
largest in the United Kingdom ; yet, it is only 15 miles in
length by i? in breadth. It is remarkable for the petrifyinr
THROUGH IRELAND ON A JAUNTING CAR. 7
power of its water. At the Irish fairs it is a corr.mon thing
to hear itinerant vendors of small wares crying : —
" Buy the famous Lough Neagh hones ;
You put them in sticks and they come out stones."
In the vicinity of Antrim, and visible from the railway, is
one of the most perfect round towers in existence, 92 feet high
and 53 in circumference. History fails to tell when these
towers were built, or for what purpose. It is conjectured that
they were intended for the preservation of preciius books
and parchments, as places of refuge in troublous times, and
for homes for the religious votaries of the early Christian
Church. Some contend that they were built after the intro-
duction of Christianitv, from the fact that over the door of
the one near Antrim there is carved, in stone, a cross within
a circle, but both the date and object of building can only be
surmised.
From Antrim to Coleraine and Portrush the railway runs
through a pleasant fertile country ; the fields are like gardens,
and were such thrift and industry general throughout Ireland,
the professional agitator's occupation would be gone. This
part of the journey over, we take the electric tramway for the
Causeway. This tramway was the first of the kind in the
United Kingdom. It was built by the brothers Sir William
and Dr. Ernest Siemens ; the former, knighted by the Queen,
died in 1883, the latter in December, 1892.
The tramway is placed upon the side of the roadway next
the sea. By the fence is placed a raised conductor rail of T
shaped iron, supported on wooden posts 18 inches high, with
insulating caps. This rail is kept constantly charged with
electricity, and from it the car draws its supply.
Three miles east of Portrush are the ruins of Dimluce
Castle. A sharp, jagged, precipitous rock rises boldly out of
the ocean almost a hundred feet high. On the levelled sum-
mit of this rock, and covering its entire surface, is a pile of
ruins — turrets, walls, and towers — grey with age and exposure,
setming more like a continuation of the natural rock than the
work of man. It is certainly one of the most picturesque
ruins I have ever seen. At the bottom of a deep cbasm a
8 THROUGH IRELAND ON A JAUNTING CAR.
single wall eipjhteen inches in width connects the rock with the
main land. With this exception the rock is water-bound and,
as it is perpendicular, the castle must have been impregnable.
The flow of the tide on this rock-bound coast is grand ;
and the marvellous beauty of the perpendicular green waves
rushing in and breaking in snowy whiteness is one of the most
enchanting sights I ever beheld.
On arriving at the terminus of the electric tramway, we
started for the Causeway. Immediately we were besieged by
a host of beggars and would-be guides. At Coleraine I met a
Captain Martin, of London, and a young man from Derry,
who was born and reared at the Causeway. They suggested
that I should join them, and we would not need a guide. But
to shake off either guides or beggars we found impossible.
"Whichever way we looked, a would-be guide was pouring his
information into our ears. Whichever way we turned, a half-
a-dozen beggars were ipmortuniug us to give them a shilling, or
to buy a few fragments of stones or fossils which they carried.
To refuse was only to increase their importunity. To give
to one was to be compelled for peace' sake to give to all.
Dogged in this way by guides and beggars, we made our
way over a rough and dangerous road a full mile to the
Causeway. Captain Martin, dreading the return journey,
both for himself because of heart-disease, and for me, pro-
posed that we should send for a jaunting-car to bring us back.
This was done, and then we turned our attention to sight-
seeing.
The Giant's Causeway is from 300 to 500 feet thick, and
extends over an area of nearly 1,200 square miles. The whole
rock seems to have been volcanic in its origin, and is com-
posed of basalt or lava deposited in beds or layers. Several
of these basaltic beds are columnar ; three of them remark-
ably so. The columns of the upper one are coarse and large,
exceeding 200 feet in height. The lower one of the three,
where it is uncovered for a distance of 300 yards, is it grad-
ually dips into the sea, forms the Causeway proper. Our
rocks are usually deposited in layers, and so are these lava
beds ; but each bed is composed of perpendicular columns,
not continuous, but in sections, one end of each section being
THROUGH IHELAND ON A JAUNTING CAB. 9
concave and the other convex, the hollow end of one fitting
exactly over the projection of the one beneath. The major-
ity of tljese pillars have five, six, or seven sides. Some have
only four, and some eight. Only one has been discovered
with three sides, and three with nine sides. The exposed
ends of these columns form the Causeway; and, though 15
lo 20 inches in* diameter, fitting so closely together that it
would be impossible to introduce the point of a pen knife
between them. In some places the en< of the pillars resem-
ble a frightfully uneven pavement. In others they are
exposed in fanciful shapes, and have been given fanciful
names.
On the way to the Causeway we passed a rock in the sea
near the shore, shaped like a Tam o' Shanter, and called the
" Highlandman's Bonnet." A little farther on is another
peculiar-shaped stone called the " Giant's Saddle." We paid
two-pence each for a glass of water from the " Giant's Well,"
a spring of water gushmg from the very top of the Causeway.
In the tourist season, either an old man or an old woman
stands by this spring, havmg a tray, a half-dozen glasses, and
a bottle of ** poteen." They cannot sell the "poteen," but
the}' make those who patronize them pay well for the wafer,
and put a little of the " poteen " in it.
Finally we reached the " Giant's Wishing Chair," where
the stones have been removed in such a way as to resemble
an immense arm-chair. The old guide said : "Every wish
made in that chair is sure of being fulfilled, but you must
never tell the wish.'* Of course we all sat in the chair. I
was the more willing to do so as from it a great deal may be
seen. Away in one direction is the group of pillars called the
'* Honeycomb," and near it the place where Lord Antrim and
his party partook of lunch some years ago, and since called
" Lord Antrim's Parlour." Away in another direction is seen
a peculiar pillar resembling a woman partly stooped. 1 1 is
called the " Giant s Granny." Tradition says she was turned
to stone for the sin of having two husbands at the same time.
In still another direction is seen the " Giant's Chimney
Tops" — three irregular pillars standing on a promontory—
the tallest of them 45 feet high.
10 THUOUGH IRELAND ON A JAUNTING CAR.
It is said that one of the ships of the Spanish Armada,
driven on the coast by stress of weather, mistook these pil-
lars, more numerous then than now, for the towers of Uunlucc
Castle, and the crew wasted their powder and shot on them
with the result that several were knocked down.
From this same chair may be seen a range of pillars called
the ♦* Loom." The " Giant's Organ " is a still more beautiful
object. It forms no part of the Causeway, but is placed
apart in the mountain. It consists of a number of large pil-
lars, declining on either side to shorter and shorter ones, like
the strings of a harp. They have evidently been exposed by
a land-slip.
The natives say that this organ plays only once in every
seven years, and that is Christmas morning When it plays,
all the hills and promontories dance three times round ; and
it plays only two tunes — the " Boyne Water " and ** St.
Patrick's Day " — so that neither Catholics nor Orangemen
can be offended, but one has to be up very early in the morn-
ing to hear the music.
The columns of the Causeway, chemically considered, are
composed of about one-half flinty earth, one-quarter iron, and
one-quarter clay and lime. They have been formed by a per-
fect fusion of the ingredients into one mass, which in cooling
has crystallized into regular forms, as starch will in drying.
Of the Causeway, Kohl says: "With all the explanations
that can be offered, however, so much is left unexplained that
they answer very little purpose With inquiries of this
nature, perhaps, not the least gain is the knowledge of how
much lies beyond the limits of our inquiries, and how many
things that lie so plainly before our eyes, which we can see
and handle, may yet be wrapped in unfathomable mystery.
We see in the Giant's Causeway the most certain and obvious
effects produced by the operation of active and powerful
forces which entirely escape our scrutiny. We walk over the
heads of some 40,000 columns, all beautifully cut and pol-
ished, formed of such neat pieces, so exactly fitted to each
other, and so cleverly supported, that we might fancy we had
before us the work of ingenious human artificers , and yet
what we behold is the result of the immutable laws of nature,
:^
THROUGH IRELAND ON A JAUNTING CAR. 11
acting without any apparent object, and by a process which
mast remain a mystery forever to our understanding."
It is said that a very fine view of this natural curiosity is
obtained from the water, but no boat could live in the sea
that washed the rocky shore when I was there, so I had to
content myself with the view from the land.
Of the many traditions which attempt to account for the
Causeway, I will give only one : " The Giant, Fin McCoul,
was the champion of Ireland, and felt very much aggrieved
at the insolent boasting of a certain Caledonian giant, who
offered to beat all who came before him, and even dared
to tell Fin that, if it weren't for the wetting of himself, he
would swim over and give him a drubbing. Fin at last
applied to the king, who, perhaps not daring to question the
doings of such a weighty man, gave him leave to construct
a Causeway right to Scotland, on which the Scot walked over
and fought the Irishman. Fin turned out victor, and, with a
generos't}' quite becoming an Irishman, kindly allowed his
former rival to marry and settle in Ireland." Since the
death of the giants, the Causeway, being no longer wanted,
has sunk under the sea, only leaving a portion of itself visible
here, a little at the Island of Rathlin, and the portals of the
grand gate on Staffa.
Havmg seen the truly wonderful '* Giant's Causeway " as
well as our limited time would permit, the Captain and I
climbed on the jaunting car, taking care to sit on the side
farthest from the precipitous shore, over which a fall meant
instant death ; the jarvie seized the horse by the bridle, and
we started along the dangerous road from the Causeway to
the electric tramway. Immediately every beggar and every
would-be guide that could get within arm's length of the car
laid hold and held on, and the horse had all he could do. to
drag us and them up the steep hills.
One old man, with a face almost as long as my arm, who
could not get within reach of the car, trotted alongside, and
in the most plaintive tones entreated us to buy some vu of
the Causeway which he held toward us, fortifying his appeal
with the pathetic assurance that he was " the only one of the
crowd that. hadn't taken in anything that day." This was
12 THROUGH IRELAND ON A JAUNTING CAR.
repeated again and again as we rode along, as often as he
could get breath enough. Penally, I handed him a shilling
and told him I would take a copy of his views. If you ever
passed from densest darkness to brightest sunshine the change
was no greater than the change in that old man's face, and
in the most fervent accents he exclaimed : ** May all sorts o'
mutilation an' grace an' holiness fall down upon yeez. May
God condimn yer sowl to happiness, an' grant yeez long life
and reprobation both here an' hereafter." The Captain,
quite overcome by this touching benediction, took another of
his little books, and was startled somewhat when he cried :
" The beauty o' the earth ye war. May the angels make yer
bead in heaven this night."
When we reached the Causeway Hotel and paid for the
car the sum stipulated, we supposed we had discharged our
obligations in the matter, but we were soon undeceived. The
car was the smallest part of the bill we were expected to pay.
The jarvie had to be paid for leading the horse, and every
beggar and every would-be guide who had, eitlier by design
or accident, laid hand on the car, expected to be paid for do-
ing so. To hand over the amount demanded was only to
have fresh demands made upon us. To refuse was to bring
down upon us a very torrent of remonstrances at our nig-
gardliness. Nor was this all : when we had to some extent
satisfied their demands for money, we found they were thirsty
also, and were invited to walk into the hotel and treat them to
Ireland's curse.
When we landed at the Causeway terminus of the electric
railway we discovered that it was run to draw guests to the
Causeway Hotel, and not for the convenience of the public.
If we returned to Portrush by it that day, we had only one
hour and fifteen minutes to get a mile to the Causeway, see
it, and return, while we would have to wait four hours at
Portrush for a train. To see tlie Causeway in that time is
out of the question Having gone to see it, we were deter-
mined to do so, though if we did, we must either remain at
the hotel over night, or hire a jaunting car to take us to Port-
rush. V\^e chose the latter alternative, and hired the car be-
fore going to the Causeway, and now while we were being
THROUGH IRELAND ON A JAUNTING CAR. 13
besieged for money and whisky the car was quietly ordered
out, and we escaped from our tormentors and started to catch
the train for Londonderry.
After leaving Coleraine some distance behind, the scenery
to our left was very grand and picturesque, consisting of bold
cliffs rismg almost perpendicularly some hundreds of feet
above the railway.
As we drew near Londonderry I was shown the place
where tlie boom was placed across the river Foyle during the
siege of 1689, and also where the vessel was stranded on the
shore by the rebound when she burst the boom, and was
floated again by the shock of her guns firing a broadside at
the enemy.
On reaching the Maiden City, I put up at the Northern
Hotel, which stands close to the gate that the 'Prentice Boys
closed. The city owes its rise to a monastery founded there
in the 6th century by St. Columba. Tlie original name was
Derry, " the place of oaks." When the estates of the ONeils
were confiscated in i6og, the greater part of the lands, includ-
ing Derry, was bestowed on, and still belongs to, the citizens
of London. Hence the name London's Derry or London-
derry. The city is governed by a body of 26 elected by the
London City Council. Derry was pillaged by the Danes,
was occupied by the English at the invasion, and has passed
through many vicissitudes.
In the War of the Revolution the city threw itself earn-
estly into the cause of William of Orange and the siege it
then endured is one of the most memorable in British His-
tory. The town was not sufficiently fortified to stand a siege
by regular troops, while Governor Lundy was treacherously
preparing to hand it over to the enemy. Lord Antrim's sol-
diers had advanced to within 60 yards of the Ferry Gate when
13 Scotch apprentices seized the keys, drew up the bridge,
and locked the gate. The citizens, always noted for their
high spirit, inspired by the act of the boys, determined not to
yield.
It was then that the heroic Rev. George Walker appeared
on the scene. He saved the Governor from the rage of the
popdace, and allowed him to leave the city. By his stirring
U TIIROUOII IRELAND OS A JAUNTING CAB.
sermons preached in the cathedral, and by his noble exampk'
in leading sallying parties, he aroused in the people the most
obstinate determination not to surrender, though reduced to
the greatest extremity by starvation. The siege lasted 105
days. When it was raised Walker went to London, was
warmly received at Court, thanked by the House of Commons,
created D.D. by Oxford, and made Bishop of Derry by the
King. But his martial spirit was aroused. He could not be
induced to take quiet possession of his bishopric. He must
needs go to the Boyne. He headed a troop at the Battle of
the IJoyne and was there killed.
Having partaken of a palatable tea I sallied out to see the
Maiden City. I concluded that the easiest and quickest way
to do so was from the top of the old wall which did such good
service more than 200 years ago, and is still preserved as a
promenade. Derry was then a small town not more than a
mile in circumference. At the present time there is much
more of Derry outside of the walls than inside. The walls
vary in thickness from, say 15 to 30 feet : five or six feet on
either side being stone and the space between filled with
earth.
At the gate which the 'Prentice Boys closed I climbed to
the top of the wall, which is there bristling with cannon. As
I stood there and looked down upon the city, memory recalled
the leading incidents in connection with the siege, and that
probably to the heroic defence we owe our own civil and
religious liberty. I became for the time being one in spirit
with the brave defenders. As I listened in imagination to the
stirring exhortations of the noble Walker, my nerves thrilled,
my heart throbbed, and my blood flowed with quickened cur-
rent along my veins. I watched the desperate sallies of the
starving garrison and saw raw troops reduced to skeletons by
hunger, perform deeds of valour worthy of veterans. I ad-
mired the heroism and constancy that still stood firm and held
the fort, while dogs and vermin, tallow and hides constituted
their only food, and disease and slaughter were daily thinning
their ranks.
I walked on the top of the wall to the Doric column in the
western bastion, on the top of which stands a statue of the
THROUnil IRELAND ON A JAUNTING OAR. 16
great organizer and inspirer, the heroic, patriotic Walker, and
thence past the cathedral (erected 1633) in which Walker deli-
vered his rousing sermons, around to the place whence I started.
Next morning, after a walk through the town, I took train
for Portadown. For some distance our route lay along the
west bank of the river Foyle, and afterwards through a tract
of country, rough and hilly, with deep glens and narrow fer-
tile valleys abounding in peat-bogs. These seem to be aggre-
gations of almost pure vegetable matter. They furnish a
supply of cheap fuel for the inhabitants and cannot possibly
be exhausted for centuries. As we went south the thrift and
industry which have made Ulster so productive and her popu-
lation so provident and contented, began to disappear, and it
was no rare thing to see strong, hearty-looking men basking
lazily in the sun. Presently the sky clouded and rain be-
gan to fall, and I was glad when I reached Portadown, where
1 3pent the night.
Saturday morning I took the early train for Drogheda.
The only place of much interest that we pass is Dundalk, a
town of 12,000 inhabitants. It is noted as being the last
town in Ireland where an Irish monarch was crowned and
resided in royal splendour, Edward Bruce, who was invited
by the Irish to help them shake off the English yoke,
stormed and took Dundalk, was crowned and resided here
for two years, when he was killed in battle with the English
on the hill of Foighard, near Dundalk, in 1318. With him
the hopes of the Irish of that time for independence died,
though the longmgs of the Irish race for it may never die.
A two hours' run through a district abounding in beauti-
ful scenery and natural wealth, brought us to the ancient
town of Drogheda, one of the most quaint, stand-still old
places in all Ireland ; with narrow, ill-paved streets making
little pretence at cleanliness; and low, old-fashioned, thatched
dwellings, with one or two panes of glass just under the eaves
admitting scarcely light enough to make the darkness visible.
With every natural advantage in the way of a grand harbor.r,
proximity to Liverpool, anda fertile country, Drogheda, like
every other place in the southern part of Ireland, except, per-
haps, Cork, is not pnly stagnant, but retrograding.
16 THROUGH IRELAND ON A JAUNTING CAR.
Procuring a jaunting-car, I called on the Rev. Alex. Hall,
Castle St., to whom I had forwarded a letter of introduction
the day before. Though it was his busy day, he most kindly
acceded to my request to accompany me to the Battlefield on
the Boyne, nearly four miles distant. On the way, we had a
good look at the St. Lawrence gate of the old wall, one of the
most artistic, well-preserved structures of the kind in the
island. Some years ago it was proposed to pull it down, but
a gentleman living near by, possessed of a stronger love for
the antique and the beautiful than his neigbours, walked out
on the street with his rifle and threatened to shoot the first
man who laid destructive hands upon it, and in consequence
it still stands an attraction and an ornament to the little old
town. We also saw portions of the old walls and the ruins
of an old abbey whose tower is still standing and still bears
the marks of Cromwell's cannon balls.
It was market day, and as we drove along the streets my
eyes rested on many a strange but characteristic sight.
Women were hurrying to market with a huge basket on either
arm, from which protruded the heads of screaming chickens,
quacking ducks and gabbling geese. Big, strapping moun-
taineers jogged i. 'ong in their quaint little carts, drawn by a
diminutive ass or mule, the quadruped and cart so very smaU
and the biped so very large that it seemed to me it would be
easier, and more in keeping with the fitness of things, for the
latter to carry the former, cart and all, than for the former
to draw the latter. These little carts were all drawn up in a
row along one side of one of the streets, the wheels removed,
and the body of the cart let down on the pavement that
would-be purchasers might the more readily see and examine
the one or more squealing porkers each contained. Bleating
sheep and lowing, skinny-looking cattle were plentiful, and
would-be purchasers were flitting to and fro.
C at of the town our way lay between hawthorn hedges,
fragrant with opening bloom. Away to our left is Slane Hill.
A little farther away, too far to be visible, is Tara, formerly
the capital of Ireland and the home of Ireland's kings. At
each Easter day it was customary for all the fires in Ireland
to be extinguished, and when the King had relighted his on
THROUGH IRELAND ON A JAUNTING CAR. 17
the hill of Tara they were all relighted, signifying that all
Ireland received its light from the King. But one Easter
morning, after St. Patrick had landed in the island, he lighted
one on Slane Hill before the King had lighted his on Tara.
On enquiring what the innovation meant, the King was told
it was a sign that the fire of Christianity had been kindled in
Ireland.
Driving on we soon came in sight of " King James' Hill,"
so called from his having watched the battle from it. Soon
we saw the obelisk which marks the place where Schomberg
fell, and then the place where King VV'Uiam's troops forded
the river and charging up the hill in the face of a heavy fire,
put to rout the opposing army and gained one more onward
Siep in the strug<j;le for civil and religious liberty.
We drove a short distance up a glen, known as " King
William's Glen," from his having led his troops down it to
the battle. It is one of the loveliest spots imaginable. On
the one hand art has done much to beautify it, on the other
nature has had her own v/ay, and her work possesses a lux-
uriance and a beauty all its own. At the bottom of the glen,
almost concealed by the foliage, runs a b^'-'bling brook v/hose
murmurs scarcely diiitui the almost death like stillness of
the place.
Retracing our way,, we crossed the Boyne bridge close by
Schomberg s monument, which is built on an immense rock
close to the river. The place is pointed out near by where
King William was shot in the shoulder, the night before the
battle, while reconnoltering. Driving along the base of King
James' Hill, we returned to Drogheda by another way, drove
down to see the harbour and shipping, and the new railway
bridge, a work of considerable magnitude, requiring great
engineering skill and exhibiting excellent workmanship.
After partaking of lunch with my obliging, intelligent and
entertaining companion and his worthy wife, I bade good-
bye to them and Drogheda and took rail for Dublin.
My vis-a VIS was a Roman Catholic priest, who proved a
pleasant travelling companion. I beg n to question him re-
garding the state of Ireland. He confessed, though reluc-
tantly, that all through the south and west of Ireland every
18 THROUGH IRELAND ON A JAUNTING CAtt.
industry was languishing. Having gained so much I inquired
the reason. After considerable hesitation, he admitted that the
present agitation was responsible for the unsatisfactory con-
dition of things, and the result was very doubtful.
The greater part of the country we passed through be-
tween Drogheda and Dublin seemed very fertile, but every-
thing had a neglected appearance.
On arriving at the Dublin station, I engaged a jaunting-
car, and set about " doing " Dublin. The first public build-
ing of interest that I saw was the Custom House, which was
completed in 1791 at a cost of £400,000, having been ten
years in building. On the front, overlooking the Liffey, are
four colossal figures, representing Navigation, Wealth, Com-
merce, and Industry. The structure, which is one worthy of
the Irish capital, is surmounted by a dome 125 feet high,
bearing on its summit a figure of Hope, 16 feet high,
The next place of interest was the Bank of Ireland, for-
merly the Houses of Parliament. It being Saturday after-
noon, it was not possible to gain admittance, which I much
regretted. In front of the Bank is College Green, and across
the street Trinity College, established in 1593 under a charter
from Queen Elizabeth. At the entrance are statues of Gold-
smith and Burke, and on the Green in front an equestrian
statue of William III., gorgeous in black paint and gilding.
I regretted very much that I could not see the numerous
statues and paintings in the College.
I drove thence to the Castle, which* is rather disappoint-
ing. Its architecture may be equal or superior to that of
Edinburgh Castle, but it lacks the commanding position of
the latter. Over the gateway is a statue of ** Justice " bal-
ancing her scales. I went thence to take a look at Christ
Church Cathedral. In recent years Mr. Henry Roe, distiller,
has had it restored at a cost of ;^20o,ooo. The vaults are
believed to have been built by the Danes ; the upper portions
were erected at various times betVveen the nth and 14th cen-
turies. It contains the tomb of Strongbow, Earl of Pem-
broke in Henry II. 's time. On it are figures representing him
and his wife Eva. This wa^ the Strongbow who began the
conquest of Ireland, and Eva was the daughter of the Irish
King who invited the English over to assist him.
tHROUGII lUELAND ON A JAUNTING CAR. 19
I drove thence along Nicholas St. to St. Patrick's Cathe-
dral. If you want to see life take a walk or drive along Nich-
olas St. on Sa?arday afternoon or evening. Along both sides
of the street were heaps of old clothes, old hats, old shoes,
old umbrellas, and other articles in every conceivable state
of delapidation and filth. Interrviixed with these were stands
for the sale of candies, fruits, and trinkets The fronts of
the houses were literally fringed with old garments hung up
for inspection. The buildings seemed to be chiefly butcher
shops, green grocers, second-hand clothes shops, whiskey
saloons, and worse ; and on almost every doorstep sat one or
more drunken women, helpless for the time, while others, only
a little less paralyzed, staggered along and leered at passers
by or gave vent to their feelings by a demoniacal laugh or
shout. On through this I drove, with heart aching at the
terrible sights 1 saw on every hand. In the shops and houses
1 saw women who were literally clothed in rags, and their
laces scarce visible tor filth. It any city on earth needs a
temperance crusade it is Dublin, with Its 1,400 licensed liquor
saloons. In no other city that I have ever been did intoxi-
cating drink seem to have such a death grip on the people,
f"* d in no other, I trust, are those who pander to the de-
praved tastes of the citizens held in such high respect. *
I have just said that Christ Church Cathedral had been
restored by a distiller. I soon came to St. Patrick's Cathe-
dral, which was restored by Sir B. L. Guinness in 1860-62 at
a cost of £"140,000 And it is thus that the destroyers of
their fellow-beings, both soul and body, make amends, and
hope to secure iwx encrance into the eternal home of the good
and the true.
In no other city have I ever seen the statues of brewers
and distillers set up as an ornament, or their fellow-citizens
point to them with pride as the monuments of public bene-
factors. Deluded people, to thus honour those who have
been the curse of the city, and the ruin of tens of thousands
of its inhabitants.
The establishments for the production of mtoxicating
beverages in Dublin are on an immense scale, seeming like
small towns. Their barges may be seen by the dozen on the
LifFey. Their carts are to be met everywhere on the streets
20 THROUGH IRELAND ON A JAUNTING CAR.
distributing their produce. It needed not the work of a,<^i-
tators and boycotters to paralyze industry and shackle trade.
This alone is sufficient. But when aided by the other, is it
any wonder that while Belfast is rapidly increasing in wealth,
population and importance, Dublin should be as steadily de-
clining ?
St. Patrick's Cathedral occupies the site of a much older
structure, built by the Patron Saint himself. It dates be-
tween iigo and 1370. In it Dean Swift held office, and in it
he is interred.
I drove from St. Patrick's Cathedral to the Four Courts of
Dublin, a splendid pile of buildings, erected between 1776 and
1800. They contain the Courts of Queen's Bench, Chancery,
Exchequer and Common Pleas, hence the name. I drove
from the Four Courts to Phoenix Park. Just inside the en-
trance is the Wellington Testimonial, erected in 1817 at a
cost of £20,000. Farther on is the statue of Carlisle, Chief
Secretary of Ireland under the Melbourne administration,
1835-41, and Lord-Lieutenant under the Palmerston Govern-
ment, 1855-58. He was very popular in Dublin. Near by it
is thai of Viscount Gough, a hero of the Peninsular War and
of the Indian Mutiny. In the Park is the Vice-regal lodge
On May 6th, 1882, the new Lord-Lieutenant, Earl Spencer,
had just entered the garden on his way from taking the oath
of office, when, on looking up, he saw four men assassinate
the new Chief Secretary, Lord Cavendish, and the Under
Secretary, Mr. Burke, and then drive away. The murder
was committed in daylight, was witnessed by many people,
and for atrocity equals any ever perpetrated under the sun.
Close to the driveway is a cross cut in the green sod marking
the place of the foul deed. Standing by it was an old woman
with a basket of oranges, who entreated me to " Buy ,xi
orange, sor. "I told her that I had one in my pocket. "Sure,"
said she, " ye'il buy an orange on the very shpot where the
il^intiemen were murthered." I did not ftel like buying from
one who sought to make money out of her country's shame.
However, she began again, " I'm a poor distressed creature;
for God's sake." When I had paid her for some oranges she
broke out again with, " May the merciful Father grant ye a
long life, an' aisy death, an' a favorable judgment. Heh 1 "
THROUGH IRELAND ON A JAUNTING CAR. 21
Plioenix Park is seven miles in circumference. The citi-
zens of Dublin have reason to be proud of it. Few cities have
such an extensive and beautiful recreation ground. Here I
first saw poio played, and 1 marvelled much at the intelli-
gence and agility of the horses v/ho seemed to understand the
game almost as well as their riders. The horsemanship was
most excellent.
On my return from the Park I drove past the magazine
and v.'ithin sight of Kilmainham Jail, which so many of the
agitators who have cursed Ireland have reason to remem-
ber with anything but pleasure. I drove along Sackville St.,
the finest in the city, being broad and well-paved, while the
places of business are commodious and attractive. In this
thoroughfare is a statue of Lord Nelson, standing on a pedes-
tal 121 feet high, erected in 1808 at a cost of nearly ^7,000.
Near the monument is the Post Oflice. It was built in 1818,
is entirely of granite, and presents an imposing appearance.
Having exhausted my time, I hastened to the railway sta-
tion and took train for Belfast. As far as Portadown we
traversed the same line as before. At that station I took the
line to Belfast.
The next station north of Portadown is ^urgan, where
Drs. Montgomery and Cooke had the famous md memorable
debate over the Arian Heresy, which had crept into the Pres-
byterian Church in Ireland and was sapping its energ}' and
destroying its spirituality. Dr. Montgomery's defence of
Arianism was felt by all except Cooke to be unanswerable.
After half an hour's intermission, during which Cooke
laughed and chatted as gaily as the most light-hearted child,
he took liis place and began the most stupendous task ever
undertaken by any debater, and that without a single note or
a moments preparation. But when he had finished the fate
of Arianism was sealed, and Dr. Cooke was hailed by his
enthusiastic countrymen as the ablest debater, and the great-
est and most accomplished orator that Ireland has ever pro-
duced, and who has rarely had his equal.
I reached Belfast at g p.m., and was soon beside a glowing
grate in the home of Sir James H. Haslett, On Sabbath
morning I went to Elmwood Church, and heard a very fine
22 TIIUOUOIl IHELAND ON A JAUNTING CAR.
sermon, expressed in chaste and beautiful lan<^uage, by the
Rev. Dr. Murpliy. In the evening 1 went to Christ Church
to liear Rev. Dr. Kane, but a stranger occupied the sacred
desk. Next day I visited the house in which Dr. Cooke
resided, and then bade goodbye to my kind friends, Sir
James kindly presenting me with a life of Dr. Cooke as a
memento ot my visit to Belfast, — a visit to which I shall al-
ways look back with much pleasure, — a memento which I
shall always'prize most highly.
Naturally, you ask, " What do I think of Ireland and the
Irish people ? " Ireland's misty skies, half-disclosing, half-
concealing, have a strange fascination ; but they have not the
sunny brightness of Canada's. Her fields are fruitful and
greener than ours, but they are not so variously productive.
Her hills possess a wondrous beauty, but they lack the mas-
sive grandeur and the mineral wealth of those in my native
land. Her rivers have an unspeakable charm, but the}^ have
not the volume that lends majesty to a St. Lawrencie, a ijas-
katchewan or a Mackenzie, and their sands are not of gold.
Her sons and daughters are brilliant and witty, but they
are unstable and effervescent. Nothing can surpass their
warm-heartedness and generosity, but they are strangely ec-
centric ; they will overwhelm one with their kmdness and
lavish hospitality, and then for very love knock him down.
They are industrious and faithful, but are too prodigal of
their hard-earned substance. Their patriotism has never
been excelled, but their credulity makes them too readily be-
come the dupes of professional agitators and their very ardour
often ruins the cause they would give their heart's blood to
promote. Their devotion to their Church and their religious
guides has scarce a parallel, but their fervour io too often
tainted with bigotry and their zeal with mdiscretion,
Yet I look into the future and I see happier days in store
for Ireland, and a grander destiny than has yet been hers. I
see education no longer confined to the few, bji become the
possession of the many. I see her people with all the old
time religious fervor and more than the old time zeal that was
theirs when Ireland deserved and received the title " Isle of
Saints." I see religion and education going hand in hand to
TllHOUfJII IRELAND ON A JAUNTING CAR. 23
enlighten, to elevate, to refine and inspire the people of this
old land, till once more the eyes of all Europe — aye, of all the
world — shall be turned to her, and as men gaze at some
bright, blazing meteor, whose flashing beams illumine the
midnight sky, so shall they behold in astonishment and ad-
miration the material prosperity, the intellectual progress and
the warm, glowing, man-elevating, God-honoring piety of
Ireland.
How TO Make Life a Success.
Ta man a child of destiny ] I answer He is ; and I answer,
He is not. Like Uie greatest dramatist the world has ever prd
duced, I believe that " there is a tide in the affairs of men whicli,
taken at the flood, leads on to fortune." I l)elieve that, in one
sense, tuan can and does carve out his own future : that, in one
sense, he is not a child of destiny. Like the same great dramatist
I believe that ** there is a Providence that shapes our ends, rough
hew them as we will." I believe, like him, thaf. man's future ia
fore-ordained of God ; that in one sense he is a child of destiny.
Let me illustrate this seeming contradiction.
Father Mathew, the Irish apostle of Temperance, was a man
with scarce a quality, intellectual or moral, that was at all remark-
able, except benevolence. Pie could not have originated the
Temperance movement, or any other. Yet, for a lime, his fame
was second to that of no other man of his day. He was just
coming into prominence as a preacher when the Temperance move-
ment was introduced into Ireland from the United States, and
the Temperance movement was the tidal wave which made Father
Mathew famous. He was enlisted in the movement at the aus-
picious moment. He took the tide at the turn and was borne on
to success. He made his triumphal progress through Ireland,
sometimes administering the pledge to fifty thousand persons in a
single day, and pledging between two and three millions alto-
gether. " There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at
the flood, leads on to fortune." Man is not a child of destiny.
Again, man is a child of destiny. One Jay a wild, reckless
youth landed in India. His fortune had been wasted, and his
character lost by dissipation. Weary of a life which was a dis-
grace to his friends and a burden to himself, he loaded a pistol,
and, putting the muzzle to his head, drew the trigger. The
powder flashed in the pan. Bent on suicide he renewed the
priming, and, stranfe to say, again the powder flashed in the pan.
Renewing the primmg once more, a third time he put his flnger
on the trigger and the muzzle to his brow, and was about to draw,
when, 3truck by his remarkable escapes, he laid the pistol down,
• >!'
i UOW TO MAKE
sayinij, godlosB and graceless man though ho was: ** Surely God
hiteiids to do some great things by me, that he has so preserved
nie." Tliat godidHs, graoch'ss man is known in history as Lord
C!livk, the founder oj our great East Indian K/npire, the noblest
appendage of the British Crown. " Tlioro is a Providence that
Hhiip(!8 our ends, rough-how them as we will." Man is a child of
destiny.
It would be useless to multiply illustrations. The two I have
given make it quite evident that thore are two distinct agencies
at work moulding man's lif(\ a humiin and a divine, each acting
in its own sphere, doing its own part, but never interfering with
its co-worker. The divine is beyond our control. The human we
can direct at will. If we turn to the Inspired Volume, we find
these two distinct forces recognized, else where would be the sense
in the apostle's injunction to the Philippians? " Work out your
own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God which worketh
in you, both to will and to do, of His good pleasure." These two
forces, distinct and separate, yet never at variance, together work
out the problem of life. It is the old question of Foreordination
and Free-will (or God's i)lan and man's choice). Yet Foreordina-
tion and Free-will are not antagonistic. They are in perfect
harmony.
Some years ago Dr. Talmage was spending his vacation in the
Western States. A locomotive engineer offered him a ride on
his locomotive. Willing to add this new sensation to his many
strange experiences, he .iccepted the invitation. As he stepped
on the locomotive a Methodist minister stepped on also. While
enjoying their ride the two began discussing Foreordination and
Free-will, and soon the discussion waxed warm. At length
Talmaw said : " My brother, there is no difference between you
and me. This road is Foreordination ; this locomotive is Free-
will. Neither is of any use without the other, but both together
carry us to our destination."
They could not change the road, but they could choose which
direction they would ride on it. And as this was true of their
journey, so is it true of the journey of lifo. We cannot interfere
(if we would) with the Divine agency, but we can control the
human. Man's life mu^t be either a success or a failure, and
it rests with him to decide which it shall be. It is foreordained
tlFR A auCCKSS. ft
that man must j^o either to heaven or hell. The road to heaven
is the road to hell ; which place; wo reach ail depends on the direc
tion we travel, and the choice rests with i.s. Man's life is just
what he makes it. God gives him existence, and endows him
with a threefold nature — physical, intellectual and moral, or
spiritual. Time is the warp in his loom ; opportunity is wound
up in his shuttle, and with these he weaves the web of life — a
web that the "good and faithful " can make " a thing of beauty,
and a joy fore/er;" a thing that men will gaze on with fc( lings
of admiration and respect ; that they will call grand, beautiful,
sublime ; of which even God will say, ' VV(!ll done." A web that
the " wicked and slothful " can make a horrible monstrosity ; a
thing which men will shrink from with feelings of disgust and
pity, and even Infinite Compassion "cannot look upon with any
degree of allowance." The materials are the same, but how dif-
ferent are the results. Over the one Infinite Wisdom, Justice
and Pity mingled will write failuhb; over the other, succkss.
And just here arises a very important question. What constitutes
success, and what failure '? Our opinions about other things diifur
greatly, and they differ about this also.
A tourist in Scotland asked an old man, who was breaking
stones by the wayside, if he knew the Carlyles. "Aye, man,"
said he, " aw ken them brawley weel. There was Tam, an' Jamie,
an' Sandy, an' Jock, the doctor, an' some five lassies for bye.
Tam wasna o' muckle ac^coont. He gaed afl^ an' writet some
buiks. He sent me ane ance, ca'ed ' Saucer Resorties,' or some
'at, but aw could mak' neither heid nor tail o' the trash intilt.
But Jamie, the farmer, owerbye at the Newlan's there, is a clever
fellow. D'ye ken, man, Jamie raised the best hogs that ha'e been
seen in Ecclefechan market this twenty year."
Fine hogs are ail very w 11 in their way, yet the world will
award the palm of success to Tam, who, in the old stone-breaker's
estimation, " wasna o' rauckle accoont."
" To win and to wear, to have and to hold,
Is the burden of dream and prayer ;
The hope of the young, and the hope of the oid,
The prize of the strong and tlio fair.
All dream of some guerdon life's labour to blod.\
And, winning that guerdon, have nametl it succest.*'
4 HOW TO MAKE
All hope for success, all work for it, but the accomplishment of
one's plans and purposes in not necessarily success. " Boss "
Tweed planned and worked to get millions of plunder, and got
itj but was his life a success ! Napoleon Bonaparte fought for
fame and power, and half a continent lay helpless at his feet ; but
on tlie lonely isle of St. Helena did he think he had won success 1
" If a man strive for masteries, yet is he not crowned, except he
strive lawfully."
A man's life can only be called a success when he. attains the
end for which he was created. To do this he must make the
most and best of all those things committed to his charge, whether
they be time, talents, wealth, position, privileges, or opportuni-
ties. Success — complete and entire success — is the goal we all
should strive for. Of him who reaches it alone can it be said,
as our Saviour said of Mary of Bethany, " She hath done what
she coiiid."
He who has thus honestly and conscientiously tried to win
success, though he may not be able to look back over his life
without deep sorrow for sins of commission and of omission, can
yet look forward without dread, and even contemplate the end of
life with unwavering trust in Him who gave it ; for " like as a
father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear
Him. For he knoweth our frame ; he remembereth that we are
dust," and though " to err is human, to forgive is divine."
But if there be a man who can look back over his life and not
see '* something attempted, something dofte," for man's good and
GotVs glory, — if there be one, the mainspring of whose life has
been self, and self only, — his lot is sad indeed.
"If such there be, go, mark hiin well j
For him no minstrel raptures swell ;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless hia wealth as wish can claim, —
Despite those titles, power and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living shall forfeit fair renown.
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonorcd, and unsuiuj."
Though sunli a i.^an were rich as Croesus, the poorest beggar
on our streets is mor^ to be envied than he if his heart but throb
with love CO God and man.
LIFE A SUCCESS. |
"A sacred burden is the life ye bear,
Look on it, lift it, bear it solemnly,
Stand up and walk beneath it steadfastly,
Fail not for sorrow, falter not for sin,
But onward, upward, till tlie goal ye win."
Having seen what constitutes success, and what failure, we
have next to inquire how the one is to be attained, and the other
avoided. There is an old proverb, " Deserve success, and you will
command it." But, *' How shall we deserve it 1 "
TJiere are many things which may not be absolutely necessary
to success, but are yet of very material assistance in winning it,
and he who is wise will avail himself of every such aid. The
first of these aids of which I shall speak, — and I'll only speak of
a few of them — is a strong, active, healthy body. For a poor
constitution and ill-health nothing can compensate. With them
as a clog even genius finds her wings clipped, and perseverance is
almost hopelessly handicapped. While waiting and seeking for
health and strength equal to the effort the auspicious moment is
lost, another steps in and wins the prize. Never before, in the
world's history, was competition in every calling and pursuit so
fierce as now ; never did success demand for its attainment such
sterling physical and intellectual qualities as in this latter part of
the nineteenth century. Carlyle truly says, "The race of life has
become intense : the runners are treading upon each other's heels ;
woe be to him who stops to tie his shoe-strings."
I do not mean to say that he who is weighted with a weak,
diseased body may not attain a measure of success in the struggle
of life — may not even distance many who are blessed with every
physical advantage, for I remember that Ben Jonson was a
dwarf, John Milton was blind, Isaac Newton and James Watt
were weak and delicate, Robert Hall su fibred from spinal
disease, Horatio Nelson was little ind lame, Alexander Pope was
a hunchback ; yet these, and others afflicted as they were, have
lived lives that command the admiration of the world, and have
left names behind them that will live to the end of time— names
that are cherished because of the great achievements of their
owners and the blessings they conferred on our race — names that we
fain would hope are inscribed in the Lamb's Book of Life. Yet I
cannot but think how much greater their achievements might have
been, in this life at least, had they not laboured under such physi-
9 HOW TO MAKE
cal disabilitiVa, for their greatness was attained not because of
these, as mauy suppose, l»ut in spite of them.
The value of good health cannot be estimated. It is beyond
price. Having a strong frame and good health man has the
greatest physical blessing earth can bestow. The strongest intel-
lect is weakened, the brightest mind cloudod, the loftiest genius
hampered by weakness and ill-health. " Health is a very large
ingredient in what the world calls talent. A man without it may
be a giant in intellect, but his d'^eds will be the deeds of a dwarf."
There is no calling in which men do not need bodily health,
strength, and agility. Therefore, as a valuable aid to success, pre-
serve health and strength if you have them, and endeavour in
every possible way to secure them if you have not.
Having a strong, healthy body, one has an adequate support
for a powerful mind. The influence of matter over mind is great
— marvellously great, Yet the influence of mind over matter is
perhaps greater. Hence the next aid to success which one should
secure is a healthy, vigorous, well-stored, systematically developed
mind. The mind should be healthy, that its balance may not be
easily disturbed, for " who can minister to a mind diseased ? " It
should be vigorous, in order that it may be capable of sustained
eff'ort. ft should be well-stored, that it may have a fund of infor-
mation to draw upon at will. It should be systematically deve-
loped, because success is purchased too dear if one becomes a
one-sided monster to gain it.
In days of yore, fame, wealth, position, beauty, everything
desirable which this world could bestow, might all be secured by
strength and courage alone. But the age when the gallant knight
who bestrode the noblest charger, and wielded the heaviest battle-
axe and sharpest sword, gathered to himself life's prizes is past
and gone. 'Tis mind, not muscle, that rules the world to-day.
'Twas mind that made Benjamin Disraeli, a member of a
despised, outcast race, rise to be a star of fashion in the proudest
and most exclusive society in the world, the trusted and beloved
adviser of our gracious Queen, and Prime Minister of the most
powerful nation of the earth. 'Twas mind that made a stone-
mason, Hon. Alexander Mackenzie, the most successful leader the
Reform party in Canada has had for a quarter of a century.
'Twas mind that made the Right Hon. Sir John A. Macdonald
LIFE A SUCCESS. 7
Prime Minister of Canada for more than twenty years, one of the
ablest of constitutional kiwyers, and a member of the executive
comm.ittee of the Privy Council of Great Britain and Ireland.
'Twas mind that raised Lincoln, Grant and Garlield, from poverty
to the Presidential chair of the United States.
It is true that, even yet, men of powerful physique, iron will
and inflexible purpose, but with undeveloped mind, may secure a
certain amount of wealth and fame — may become not only noto-
rious, but popular. (Our own Hanlan is an example of such a
man.) Yet their fame and popularity are both transient. They
peri h, and themselves and their fame are alike forgotten, 'Tis
the man of mind whose deeds are rec^orded in history ; who finds
a permanent niche in the temple of fame ; whose name is indelibly
inscribed on the roll of honour. In this nineteenth century " the
mind 's the standard of the man," in a sense, and to a degree that
it never was before.
In earlier ages, when the store and range of human knowledge
were less extensive, a man of genius might excel in several depart-
ments. Bacon, Dante and Leonardo da Vinci were men of almost
universal attainments. But all are not Bacons, or Dantes, or Da
Vincis. And at the present time the store and range of human
knowledge have become so vast that he who would excel — he
who would ris(i above mediocrity — must devote all his time and
energy to one branch, and be content to remain in comparative
ignorance of all the rest. Pope says : —
" One science only, will one genius fit,
So wide is art, so narrow human wit."
With the exception of a few great minds, the men whose
names are historic are identified with some one achievement
upon which all their life force was spent. You think of Watt,
and the shrill whistle of the steam-engine falls on your ear ; of
Edison, and the electric light Hashes through the midnight dark-
ness ; of Wilberforce, and the coloured race stand forth free men ;
of Garibaldi, and the dream of a united Italy is an accomplished
fact. It is the man of single and intenco purpose, who steels his
soul against all things else — it is the man that can say with St.
Paul, " This one thing I do" — that is the successful man to-day.
And this brings us to the next thing to be considered, vi*,, tbp
8 HOW TO MAKE
choicp of a profpspion, or wliat one thing hIirII each man do, that
he may be a success in his calling.
To no other cause, perhaps, is failure so frequently to be traced
as to a mistaken calling. Sidney Smith says, " Be what nature
inten.Vd you to be, and you will succeed ; be anything else, and you
will ho. ton thousand times worse than nothing." And Mathews
in "Getting on in the World'' says, "If there is any fact demon-
strated by experience, it is that no man can succeed in a calling
for which nature did not intend him." And Smith and Mathews
may be correct. Yet there is another fact demonstrated by
experience, v/hich is, that man has within him a power of adapt-
ing himself to circumstances which enables him to thrive in almost
any pursuit. If he be determined to succeed, experience will
quicken his instincts ; he will become v»'ise, cautious, discreet, far-
sighted, and those who know no better will declare that he was
made for the place and bound to succeed. "Nothing is denied
to well-directed labour. Nothing is to be obtained without it."
An intense desire will itself transform possibility into reality.
If it were true that one can succeed only in that calling for
which nature designed him — for which he has a predilection —
then this world would contain little else than failures, for 1 am
convinced that most men are what they are, not from choice, but
from force of circumstances. But they bow to these in the be-
ginning, that in the end they may rise superio** to them, and win
in spite of them. As the lithe willow bends before the storm and
rises when 'tis past, they stoop to conquer.
But for every man the profr sion is best which chords most
nearly with the bent of his mind, if he can embrace it without
compromise of his social standing or moral principle. Be what
you wir' j be, if possible; but if not, lose no time in indecision,
but promptly determine to what calling you will devote yourself.
Having once decided what you will do, do it. Stick to it even
though you may prefer another. You will probably succeed
better in the calling to which you have already served an appren-
ticeship, even though not to your liking, than if you turned to
another. A traveller once asl^ed an Irishman of two roads lead-
ing to the same place, which he had better take. ♦* Take ayther
road ye loike," said Pat, "an go six moiles, thin come back an
tViroy me other, an whichever road ye take first yees'll wish yees
had stuck to it."
LIFE A SUCCESS. 9
" If it be possible, give alt your energies to the highest em-
ployment of which your nature is capable ; . . . and if you
fail to reach the goal of your wishes, which is possible in spite of
your utmost efforts, you will die with the consciousness of having
done your best, which is, after all, the truest success to which man
can aspire."
Among the many qualities of mind and heart which conduce
to worldly success, none is more frequently underrated, yet few
are of more real importance, than courtesy. Hawthorne used to
say, "God may forgive sins, but awkwardness has no forgiveness in
heaven, or on earth." Courtesy is to a man what beauty is to a
woman. It creates an instantaneous impression in his behalf,
and is worth more as a means of winning favour than the finest
clothes and jewels ever worn. " Give a boy address and accom-
plishments," says Emerson, *' and you give him the mastery of
palaces and fortunes wherever he goes ; he has not the trouble of
owning or carrying them ; they solicit him to enter and possess."
It is easy to depreciate courtesy as a trifle, but trifles make up
the aggregate of human life. Courtesy costs little and is worth
much.
Another valuable aid to success is cheerfulness. The spectres
of neglect, unkindness and despair fly before it, as fogs before the
sun. Is your situation unpleasant? Make the best of it. Is
your labour hard 1 A cheerful disposition will enable you to do
double the work with half the physical and mental exhaustion.
Are your friends few ] Cultivate a cheerful, sunny disposition,
and friends will gather about you as if by magic, and you need
never want a friend or a dollar.
"Be glad, and your friends are many,
Be sad, and they turn and go.
They -v mt full measure of all your pleasure,
But Liiey do not want your woe.
"Rejoice, and men will seek you,
Grieve, and you lose them all.
There are n> ne to declii" your nectared wine,
But alone j'ou must drink life's gall."
Learn also how to economize ; and especially how to econo-
mize time. In order that one may do so he should be punctual.
Ue who lacks punctuality wastes the time of others, and ms
10 HOW TO MAKB
own. Whatever claim he may pretend to have on the latter, he
hflH none whatever on the former. When Washington's secretary
pleaded a slow watch aa an excuse for being live minutes late,
Washington replied, "Then, sir, you must either get a new watch,
or I must get a new secretary." And Washington was right.
He who wastes his own time is a spendthrift, and will yet be
poor in that of which he is so prodigal, — may even crave it as
Queen Elizabeth did when she cried : " My kingdom for an hour
of time." He who wastes the time of others is a thief, and
robs them of that which can never be restored. Many things if
lost may be replaced, but lost time is gone forever. Time is the
only portion of eternity that man can call his own. It is not
only money, but the very stuff life is made of . Even the odds
and ends of it may be worked up into results of the greatest
value. Henry Kirke White learnt Greek while walking to and
from a lawyer's office. Hugh Miller, while working as a stone-
mason, became an able scientist, and one of the most facile and
brilliant authors of his day. Elihu Burritt, while pursuing his
trade as a blacksmith, mastered eighteen languages and twenty-
two dialects.
Learn, then, how to economize all things, but especially time.
*' Glean up its golden dust, economize those raspings and parings
of existence, — those fragments of days and wee bits of hours —
so valueless singly, so inestimable in the aggregate, — which most
persons sweep out into the waste of life," and you will have time
for all life's duties, and be rich in leisure.
I would say also : — Cultivate self-reliance. Learn to put
your own shoulder to the wheel before looking for help. The
inspired penman says, " It is good for a man that he bear the
yoke in his youth ; " and that which one acquires by his own
exertions is of infinitely more value to him than the richest legacy
or costliest gift, because he has the experience^ or training,
acquired while working for it, and that is priceless.
Grace Greenwood says, *' Men who have fortunes are not those
who had $5,000 given them to start with, but boys who have
started with a well-earned dollar or two. Men who have acquired
fame have never been thrust into popularity. . . . They have
outstretched their own hands and touched the public heart. Men
who win love do their own wooing, and I never knew a man fail
LIFE A SUCCESS. 11
80 signally as ono who induced his grandmararaa to speak a word
or two for him. Whether you work for fame, love, or money, or
anything else, work with your own hands and heart and brain.
Say, * I will,' and some day you will conquer."
I might speak of accuracy, tact, reliability, and .so on, did
time permit, but I must leave the aids, and hasten on to the
essentials of success, or the three P's : Perseverance, Patience,
Piety. I call these essentials, because without them man's life
cannot be a success, wiih them it cannot be a failure.
He who would make his life a success should get Perseverance,
because "Perseverance overcomes all obstacles." Without it
none can be either great or good. Life is one long series of
struggles with difficulties and temptations. Were it only one
battle, one difficult^^ one giant effort might win success. But as
life is, after each struggle he who would " be a hero in the strife"
must gird himself anew for the conflict. "Each victory will help
us some other to win," But life's heroes have often learnt more
from their failures than from their successes. Defeat has taught
them where their weakness lay, but instead of discouraging has
spurred them on to greater and more persistent efforts, and thus
the talent that was cradled in weakness has grown strong by per-
severance. Had the great men of the world been discouraged by
defeat they would never have been heard of— they would not
have been great men. Without perseverance nothing great has
ever been achieved. All those whose names are blazoned on the
scroll of fame have been distinguished for unflagging perseverance.
Lord Beaconsfield's first speech in Parliament was a failure.
The House refused to give him a hearing. He simply said, '' The
day will come when you will be glad to hear me." He persevered,
despite insult and ridicule, and after long years they under whose
laughter he had wilted were made to writhe in turn under his
burning sarcasm and the whole civilized world listened with
breathless interest to his utterances on the profoundest poli-
tical problems of the day.
In his first sermon Robert Hall stuck almost at the beginning.
Covering his face with his hands he sobbed aloud, "01 have lost
all my ideas," and burst into a flood of tears. A second trial
ended in a still more agonizing failure. A third effort was made,
and from that hour hf> took rank as the most brilliant pulpit
orator in England.
12 HOW TO MAKB
Six times Robert Bruce tried to deliver Scotland. Six time.s
he was forced to fly before his enemies. While hiding in a hay
loft from his pursuers he saw a spider make six unsucces.sfu!
attoiDpts to reach a rafter. It made the seventh, and succeeded
Inspired by the spider's example he tried once more. Bannock
burn was fought, and Scotland was free.
Wolfe, with an insufficient force, sought a long time in vain
to capture Quebec. He was severely repulsed in an attack upon
Montcalm's entrenchments, his troops were dispirited, promised
reinforcements did not arrive, he himself was ill with fever and
sutl'ering from a fatal disease. It is impossible to conceive of
prospects gloomier than were his. He even wrote home to
England to prepare the public mind for failure or retreat. But
one more effort was made, and within fiv^e days from the date of
that letter the Heights of Abraham had been scaled, Montcalm
defeated, the seemingly impregnable fortress surrendered, and the
name of Wolfe had become immortal.
Marcus Morton ran sixteen times for Governor of Massachu-
setts, and was defeated every time. He ran again, and was
elected by one vote. Men feel th tt it is useless to struggle against
one who will not be beaten. They get out of your way, con-
vinced that the .path before you does not belong to them but to
you, and success is yours.
But Patience, also, is necessary to success. By patience I mean
the ability and willingness to bide one's time. Indeed of all the les-
sons humanity has to learn in this school of the world, the hardest is
to wait. Not to wait with folded hands that claim life's prizes
without previous effort, but having toiled, and struggled, and
crowded the slo^v years with trial, to see no results, or perhaps
disastrous results, and yet to stand firm, to preserve one's poise,
and relax no effort — this is patience indeed. To know how to
wait is one of the great secrets of success. It is often asserted
that only a man of genius can win the great prizes of life. But,
Buffon says, " Genius is only a protracted patience." Without
patience the man of brilliant parts is always a failure, because he
puts his trust in his brilliancy instead of in hard work. It is the
slow, persevering, patient plodder who wins life's prizes. Indeed
the great men of the world have been as remarkable for dulness
and stupidity in early life, as for patience in later years.
LIFR ▲ 8UOOE8S. IS
Newton, when at school, stood at the bottom of the lowest
form but one. Adam Clarke was pronounced by lii.s father to be
a grievous dunce. Dr. Chalmers and Dr. Cooke were dihuiissed
from school as incorrif^ible dunceH. Professor Dalzell at Kdin-
burgh University said of Scott, " Dunce he is, and dunce he will
remain.'' Burns, Wellington and Napoleon wen; all dull boys.
Ulysses S. Grant was called " Useless " Grant by his mother. In
short, nearly all our great men have been more noted for their inde-
fatigable perseverance and unconquerable patience than for their
brilliancy. They knew how to "labour and to wait," and the
waiting is often more important than the labouring.
Dr. Guthrie, aft?r he was li<.ensed to preach, waited five years
for a call, yet the Presbyt<Tian Church in Scotland has only pro-
duced two greater men during the present century.
James Watt, that he might have a competence for his old age,
toiled patiently for thirty years ere he perfected the steam-engine.
The obstacles to be surmounted were so great that once, hut once
only he faltered, and wrote to a friend, " I curse my inventions."
But at last his efforts were crowned with success, and in his old
age he enjoyed the competence he had laboured so patiently to
win.
Columbus visited in succession the courts of Ttaly, Portugal,
England and Spain. He pleaded and waited, waited and pleaded,
and, at last, his patience and perseverance were rewarded with
three old leaky ships, and another continent was added to the
world.
For a querter of a century the British nation toiled and waited
for Waterloo. At length it has come. All day long Napoleon's
cannon have hurled their iron storm against the British lines,
ploughing them through and through. AH day long the French
cavalry and infantry have done their worst. The British ranks
are melting away like snow-wreaths in spring. The plain is strewn
with unnumbered dead ; the hands of the living are weary, and
their hearts growing faint with coming despair. " On an emi-
nence looking down on the duel of nations, astride his war-horse,
surrounded by his staff, sits Wellington, field marshal of England.
In his hand is a glass with which he scans the horizor. Now
and again he looks along the carnage-wrecked plain, then turns to
the far distance, sighing, ' O would to God that night or Blucher
14 WrnO TO MAKR
would cnmn ! ' Hark ! a hucjle ! then a poal ; then ringing all
over tlic field thonoto.s of the ' ndvance' quickening to the chargf.
Then with a sliout that filln the air, with clash of sahre and
thunder of liorse's hoof, comes swooping the Imperial legion,
Napoh.'on's invincibles held in reserve by that marvellous genius
till this hour. See how all melts before their onslaught. The allied
forces are hurled back as from a resistless stoimof rushing death.
Napoleon's eagles again sweep the field. All seems lost. Still the
Iron Duke sits there and sweeps the distance. A courier dashes up
with despatches and asks for orders. He gets only one word for
answer, * Wait 1 ' Another and another follow, and each gets
only that one word, * Wait ! ' ' Wait 1 ' The glass sweeps the
horizon again, and then Wellington throws it over his head,
throws his hat after it, leaps from his horse and begins to write
despatches. What is it? Why that cloud yonder, puffing now
with tire and smoke ; that dark mass defiling into the plain at the
double quick is the Prussian reserve. Blucher has kep« his pro-
mise. Waterloo is decided, and Napoleon's eagles go down for-
ever." ^^ Learn to labour and to wait." ''Perseverance over-
comes all obstacles" and " All thinjs come to him. who waits.'*
Some toil for wealth, some for fame, some for position, think-
ing that if they win the goal for which they strive, their life must
be a success. He who toils for the latter should remember that
position and power cannot confer happiness, which should be the
consequence of real success. *' Uneasy lies the head that wears a
crown." He who toils for fame must know that the idol of the
multitude to-day may be hunted like a wild beast by that same
multitude to-morrow. Fame is fleotinj;; as a shadow. Neither
can wealth confer happiness. Nathan Myers Rothschild, the
banker, who for years wielded the purse of the world, was pro-
foundly unhappy, and with sorrowful emphasis, exclaimed to one
congratulating him on the gorgeous magnificence of his palatial
mansion, and thence inferring that he was happy, " Happy 1
Me happy ! "
Since wealth, fame, and position cannot confer happiness, there
is such a thing as unsuccessful success. It is a fact that a man
may succeed in all his worldly undertakings, and yet his life be a
deplorable failure. And conversely, he may fail in all his world-
ly undertakings, and yet his life be a grand success. If this be
80, who then, you ask, are the successful men 1
LIFE A 8U00ESB. 15
"Speak, Hiatory ! Who are life's victors? Unroll thy lonf? annalB, and Fay,
Are they tlioHt- wlinm the world callH the victora, who won tin; success of a <l;iy f
The Martyrs or Noro? The Spartans who fell at Thermopy lie's tryst,
Or the l^ersians and Xerxes ? His judges or Socrates ? Pilate or Christ ? "
SuccesH, truly understood, must be sought, not in what we
have, but in what we are. Queen Caroline of Diiimark felt this
when she prayed. "0 keep me innocent, make others great ! "
And He, whose life was the grandest success this earth han ever
known, said, " A man's life consisteth not in the abundance of
things which he possesstjth."
Ah, friends, there is another, and still more important, essen-
tial to success, viz., Piety. He who hsiS piety, as well as perse
verance and patience, will be truly successful, — suceessful for this
world, and successful for the next, for " godliness hath the pro-
mise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come." " Seek
first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all other
things shall be added unto you."
When our lives are illumined with the light of eternity, it
will be found that true success has often been attained by
"The low and the humble, the weary, the broken in heart,
Who strove, and who failed, actinj,' bravely a silent and desperate part ;
Whose youth bore no flower on its branches ; whose hopes burned in ashes away ;
From whose hands slipped the prize they had grasped at ; who stood at the
dying of day,
With the work of their life all around them, unpitied, unheeded, alone,
With death swooping down on their failure, and all but their faith overthrown."
Whatever one may have or acquire, his life cannot be a suc-
ce.o without true piety. This is properly called "Th^ one thing
nrcJful." It consists in "love towards God and ir'aith in the
Lord Jesus Christ," which constrains us to cleanse the heart and
purify the life — constrains us to perseverance in, and patience in
and with well-doing only — constrains us to resist the devil and
his wiles, and to worship and serve God " in the beauty of holi-
ness." Mark you,
"They only the victory win,
Who have fought the good fight, and have vanquished the demons that tempt
U8 within,
Who have held to their faith unseduced by the prize that the world holds on
high,
Who have dared in a high cause to suffer, resist, fight, — if need be, to die.
16 HOW TO MAKE
i
V^illiam Wilberforce devoted his life to the liberation of the \
slaves in the British West India Islands. He had to contend
with apathy, prejudice and self-interest, but he toiled bravely
on. Humanity, fortified by sterling piety, would not be denied
the boon it asked. In and out of Parliament for thirty years he
was the devoted, disinterested champion of the colored race.
Freedom's battle in such hands must win, and on his death-bed
his soul was rejoiced with the glad tidings that the British House
of Commons had passed through its second reading a Bill, which
there was then no doubt would become law, by which the British
nation gave £20,000,000 sterling, to wipe the stain of slavery
from British soil. What a glorious victory ! — a whole nation sur-
rendering at discretion life-long prejudices and a great ransom to
the unflagging perseverance, indomital ' patience, and sterling
piety of one man.
David Liviigstone counted all things nothing compared with
the grand but stupendous task of opening up the dark continent
of Africa to the benign influences of civilization and Christianity.
The world has seldom witnessed a more sublime spectacle than
that lone pilgrim toiling at his self-appointed task, his purpose
unshaken, though he was beset with pestilence, famine, savage
beasts, and still more savage men. And so faithfully did he do
his work that the ignorant savages of that benighted land, with-
out hope of reward, moved only by gratitude to their benefactor,
carried his lifeless body on their shoulders to the sea-coast (a
journey that required six months), and there handed it over to
his countrymen that it might be returned to friends and native
land. No such eloquent tribute was ever paid earth's greatest
conqueror. It was even more eloquent than that paid by
Britain's greatest and best, when, amid a nation's tears, they laid
him away in Westminster Abbey, with the noble and the honored
dead.
General Gordon, with a sublime trust in God that some have
called fanaticism, went alone at duty's call into a hostile country
where thousands and tens of thousands of enemies were thirsting
for his blood. By true nobility of character alone he gathered
about him the best in the land, and held Khartoum for 317 days
against unnumbered foes — held Khartoum in the hope that help
would arrive, and, in the stead of anarchy and bloodshed, he
LIPB A SUCCESS. 17
might be able to establish a stable government, and put an end
to the slave trade — held Khartoum though well he knew that
some one had blundered — held Khartoum till a too tardy relief
was almost at the gates — able to escape alone, he chose to staj'
for the welfare of a degraded race, and, trusting in his God, held
Khartoum till the hand of the traitor assassin laid him low ; and
never was he so truly great and noble as then, — never was he so
beloved of God, never did he stand so high in the estimation of
mankind as when the whole civilized world mourned, as for a
brother, the sad, untimely end of Britain's latest and greatest hero.
I might go on and tell of John Howard, dying a martyr to
the cause of prison reform — of John Pounds, the cobbler, rescu-
ing unaided five hundred street arabs from a prospective life of
crime and misery, and making them useful, intelligent, moral
members of society — of General Havelock, facing unflinchingly
every foe, even the last and greatest, to whom we all must yield,
and saying in his last moments, " Come, my son, see how a
Christian can die" — I might tell of these and many others, but
enough has been said about the lives of great men. They " all
remind us we may make our lives sublime."
Friends, we have come back again to our starting-point.
Man* 8 life is just what he makes it. It must he either a Success
or a Failure, and the choice rests with him. Think of the
momentous consequences of that choice.
If we choose the road that leads to failure, we shall have the
world with its illusive joys, its transitory pleasures, its fleeting
vanities, its hollow mockeries. We will find that each of its
flowers conceals a thorn, its choicest fruit palls on the taste, its
glittering prizes are empty baubles, its smiles are more dangerous
than its frowns, its friendships more cruel than its enmities. It
will promise us joy, and give us sorrow ; promise us love, and give
us hate; promise us pleasure, and give us pain; promise us freedom,
and bind us with the shackles of a slavery worse than death ; pro-
mise us enjoyment here, whatever may be in store for us hereafter,
and it will cheat us of the enjoyment it has promised, and ev^ry
blessing will become a curse. Memory will torture us with the
remembrance of privileges slighted, opportunities r^glected, and
ofiers of mercy spurned. Conscience will strangle hope, and goad
us to despair. If we choose the downward road it will lead us to
18 HOW TO MAKB LIFE A SUCO£SS.
that place where the lost will spend their eternity, " weeping
and wailing and gnashing their teeth ; " the shrieks of the con-
demned will ring in our ears, the tortures of the damned be our
portion. We may then cry for mercy, and pray for the end of
the death that never ends, and the fiends in hell will shout in
derision. God Himself will " mock us and laugh at our calamity."
If we choose the road to success we may have doubts and
fears, but they will all vanish ; we may have trials and tribula-
tions, but shall overcome them all ; we may have conflicts, but the
enemy shall not prevail against us ; we may have bereavements,
but we shall not sorrow as those who have no hope. The roses
we gather will not all have thorns ; the fruit we pluck will not all
be bitter ; the promises held out to us will not all be broken ; our
joys will not all be sorrows ; our friends will not all be false ; our
hopes not all vain. Our journey may be long, and the pathway
rough and steep, while beyond lies the vale of death. But He
who is our guide has trod the path before. He knows the diffi-
culties that will beset us, the trials we shall endure, and has
promised us help for every time of need, and what He has
promised, He is able also to perform. And when we go down into
the vale of death we need "fear no evil," for He who has tri-
umphed over death will be with us, and " the peace of God which
passeth all understanding" will be ours even there. Beyond this
narrow vale lies the celestial city with its many mansions. As
"the ransomed of the Lord enter its shining portals" sorrow atid
sighing shall flee away, " and eternal joy and gladness shall he
our portion." But why go on? Words and imagination would
fail me if Revelation did not, for " eye hath not seen nor ear
heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things
that God hath prepared for them that love Him." Friends, *'Be
not deceived ; God is not mocked ; for whatsoever a man sowoth,
that shall he also reap. For he that soweth to his flesh shall of
the flesh reap corruption ; but he that soweth to the Spirit shall
of the Spirit reap life everlasting."
19th Century Miracles.
MaNUFActurbhs of shoddy try to give their manufactures the
appearance of good cloth. Counterfeit money is always made as
much like the genuine as possible. As with counterfeit money
und shoddy goods, so is it with religions : the false is given, as
far as may be, the semblance of the true.
Now, to one coniiing in contact with Christians and Christianity
for the first time, two things stand out so prominently as to attract
immediate i4,nd special attention. The first is a Book which
purports to be a special revelation from God ; is regarded by
Christians with feelings of reverence and is accepted by them as
the infallible rule of their faith and life — the Bible. The second
is the power of working miracles, which was bestowed upon the
prophets and preachers of the true religion in critical times, being
at once the proof of the Divine origin of the religion which they
taught and of their own commission.
As the Bible and miracles are the most striking outward
characteristics of the true religion, we may expect that false
religions will endeavour to copy the true in these respects, and on
examination we find this to be the case. Since the completion of
the canon of Scripture the founders of every false religion that has
arisen throughout Christendom have claimed to have received a
supernatural revelation and to possess superhuman power. For
example, Mohammed promulgated the Koran and Joe Smith the
Mormon bible, while both pretended to work miracles. And now,
in these last days, appears Mrs Eddy with her " Science and
Health," teaching what purports to be a new religion which she
calls " Christian Science " and claiming to possess the power to
heal the sick, miraculously. It is with this new religion that I
purpose defiling, but before doing so will refer briefly to what is
scarcely a new religion but rather an abnormal excrescence which
has grown upon Christianity itself — the faith-cure theory. I will
be as brief as possible.
I believe in the faith-cure doctrine as it is taught in the Bible,
r believe that in answer to the prayer of faith, God has many times
healed the sick and raised them up again. It is reasonable and
jl 19th century miraoleb.
Scriptural to expect reytoration ia cases in which the affliction has
accomplished the purpose that God had in sending it, and when the
restoration would be for God's glory and man's good. And if
otherwise, then, as in the case of Hezekiah, to whose life fifteen
years were added, viewing it from a human standpoint, it had been
well for Hezekiah and for the whole Jewish nation had his life not
been prolonged.
But the fact that God has seen fit to restore some of His
afflicted ones is no reason that He should cure every sick or
afflicted person, even though they ask in faith. The idea is
preposterous. It would be equivalent to making man immortal,
provided he had sufficient faith. It is fanaticism, because they
depend on prayer alone, without using the means ; and ** faith
without works is dead."
I know that faith-cure people will refer us to the Epistle of
James v. 14, 15, for their authority, so let us turn to that
passage. It reads : " la any sick among you ? let him call for " —
whom 1 — a few old women, or young ones if he prefer them ? — Not
at all — " Call for the elders of the church ; and let them pray over
him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord.*' Anointing
with oil was by far the most common method of treatment by the
physicians of that time, and is still practised by physicians of the
present day, and possibly might with profit be followed to a much
greater extent than it is, while, " in the name of the Lord" I
understand to mean, that th'^sy asked God to bless the means used
— ^^ And the prayer of fai^^ shall'' — what? heal the sick 1 — no
such thing — " Save the si^J^: : and the Lord shall, raise him, up " —
from what 1 — a sick bed 1 The Word of God does not say so, and
no one has any right to assume so. I believe that the Bible is its
own best interpreter, so I turn to my reference Bible and I find
myself directed to Mark vi. 13, 16, where I read that when
Herod heard of Christ's miracles he said : " It is John whom I
beheaded ; he is rieen from the dead." Hence, I understand that
it ia not from a sick bed but from the dead that he is to he raised.
There might be some room for discussion as to whether it is
temporal or spiritual death ; though the next sentence is very
suggestive, " If he have committed sins they shall be forgiven him."
But at present it is sufficient to know that this passage will bear no
such construction as has been put upon it, and confers no such
authority as is claimed.
19th century MIRACLjjSS. 3
I know it is their custom to say that only those who have faith
Jan be cured. But in the Sacred Records we find instances in
which there was no faith on the part of the one for whose healing
the miracle was performed — for example, the lame man sitting at
the gate of the temple called beautiful, who was healed by Petei
and John (Acts iii.), and we find one recorded instance in which
the disciples were unable to work a miracle of healing — that of the
lunatic boy recorded in Mat. xvii. — and Jesus said they failed,
not because of the boy's unbelief, but because of their own.
In the Christian Guardian of July 4th, 1888, there is a para-
graph which furnishes a strange commentary on this faith-cure
doctrine. The paragraph states that Dr. G. D. Watson, one of the
prominent faith-cure advocates in America, is laid aside from
nervous exhaustion and is assiduously cultivating a piece of ground
in Florida In order to recover ; while Dr. Cullis, the apostle of the
faith-cure doctrine on this continent, is sufiering from organic
disease of the heart.
Is it too much for an incredulous public to say, " Physician,
heal thyself " ? If the prayer of faith is sufficient to heal those
weak in faith, surely it ought to avail for its chief advocates. The
)nly conclusion to which a person of good sense and sound judg-
ment can come is, that the faith-cure doctrine as it is taught to-day
is neither reasonable nor Scriptural.
And now let us look at the doctrines and miracles of this new
religion, Christian Science.
GOD.
In the Christian Science Monthly for Aug., 1889, I find the
•jnets or beliefs to which those joining this new religion are
expected to subscribe. The first is : "As adherents of Truth we
take *he Scriptures for our guide to Life."
"Very good, if it be true, but if true, their understanding of the
Scriptures is unique, for on turning to the Christian Science
platform as set forth in *' Science and Health;" I read in Article II.,
"God is mind. He is Divine Principle, not person. He is what the
Scriptures declare Him to be — Life, Truth, Love."
Kow, I ask, is this God as He is set before us in the Scriptures 1
Assuredly not ! Life, Truth and Love are attributes of God, but
they are no more God than shadow is substance, or light is the sun.
The Scriptures declare that " God is a Spirit " — not spirit, but '• ^
4 19th century mieiaclbs.
Spirit " — not a principle, an attribute or an influence, but a person,
and they invariably represent Him as a person— thinking, speaking,
acting.
THE TRINITY.
Article XIX. says : Life, Truth and Love constitute the Triune
God" — that is. Father, Son and Holy Ghost. God the Father, we
have seen is Divine Principle, not person. In this same Article
XIX. Christ Jesus is declared to be only a Quan, while the Holy
Spirit is Divine Science. How do you like the Triune God of
Christian Science 1 What a substitute for the blessed Trinity of
Scripture ! Are you prepared to look up to a principle or an
influence as the first person in the God-head 1 — to put that in the
place of 'Our Father" which is in heaven, who knoweth our
frame, who remembereth that we are dust, and pitieth those that
fear Him like as a father pitieth his children.
Are you prepared to look up to a man as being the second '
person in the God-head, instead of Him who was " God manifest
in the flesh " 1 " very God of very God," and yet ** bone of our
bone and flesh of our flesh." Are you willing to place any man,
be he never so good, in the room and stead of the sympathising
Jesus, who can be touched with the feeling of our infirmities
because He was in all points tempted like as we are, and is able and
ready to succour them that are tempted 1
Are you prepared to Deify Divine Science — Christian Science^
with nothing Christian or scientific about it except the name, and
place it in the room and stead of that Holy Spirit who wins men,
even against the allurements of the devil and their own evil nature,
to love and to seek the pure, the beautiful and the good ? God
forbid that we should be such fools !
THE CREATION.
Article X. declares: ^* All that possesses being or reality is
Mind, and there is no such a thing as matter." If that be so, then
of necessity it follows, that God is everything, and everything is
God. Is not that Pantheism of the very rankest kind 1 And if no
such a thing as matter exists, then it follows, that this church does
not exist, and there was no necessity for you to come in by the
door, as you did, because you might have walked through those
solid walls as readily as through the door.
19th century miracles. 5
Am I misrepresenting 1 No, I am not, for Article XI. says:
'^Divine science, shows that matter and mortal body are the
illusions ofhtunan belief , which seem to appear and disappear to
mortal sense alone." If this be true, then our bodies have no
existence save in our imai^inatioii,
When at Hamilton a sliort time ago I went out to the lovely
cemetery on Burlington Heights and saw there eleven graves where ■
the remains of as many victims of the Y railway disaster, burned
so that they could not be identified, were buried. Am I to under-
stand that those remains were no part of the human beings who
yielded up their lives in that holocaust "J Am I to understand that
those bodies existed only in the imagina'ion of th'' victims, and
that their physical t-ulferings were, like tlu ir bodies, only imaginary^
though they were so terrible that they resulted in the sundering
of soul and bod}^ %
Am I to understand that when I stood beside my dear mother's
grave and saw h^r mortal remains committed to the " house
appointed for all living," that it was only her beliei and mine over
which the minister pronounced thosH solemn words, " Ashes to
ashes ; dust to dust " i
There is a mother who has held her babe to her bosom and felt
its li'tle heart throb against her own ; she has felt its dimpled
baby fingers against her cheek, its soft, loving, baby arms about her
neck, and its sweet kisses on her lips. She saw her baby sicken
and waste away j she spent weary days and sleepless nights beside
its little cot, she smoothed the uneasy pillow, and sang the low,
sweet lullaby that had lost its magic power to woo peaceful,
refreshing sleep. She moistened the parched lips, fondled the little
wasted hands in h' rs, and brushed the golden curls back from the
marble brow, damp with the dews of death, while in the anguish of
hi r soul she cried : " Would, God, I could die for thee." She
saw that little wasted form laid away under the " clods of the
valley," and went back to her lonely home where she listened in
vain for the patt- ring of the feet and the prattling of the tongue
that were music in her ears. She gathered up the little white dress
and the tiny shoe, the rattle and the whistle, and her heart
ached as if it must break and her tears fell like rain on those relics
of her angel babe as she kissed them again and again, and laid them
away in the bureau drawer as something too sacred for other hand*
■$ l9Tfl CENTUKY MIRAOLBS.
to touch or other eyes to see I ask tliat mother : " Can you be
made to think that tliat hahy-fonn was only a belief 1 " And all her
woman's nature and all her mother's love indignantly answer,
Never I
I turn to thiit husband who through long years of wedded life
sluired life's joys and sorrows with the woman who of all the world
was his heart's chosen — with the wife who loved, yea almost
worshipped, him. He held that loved one in his arms while her
life ebbed away— till the throbbing heart grew still and fthe weary
eyes closed in death, and then, heart-broken, he laid down that
lifeless form and went out into the darkness to be alone with God
I turn to that widowed husband and I ask : " Was it all an illusion
— a deception V "No I a thousand times, no! " is the response
of his heart. And all that is good and noble in our na< ures rises
in rebellion against such a doctrine, and vehemently declares :
*' Christian Science shall not rob us of all the sacred memories we
hold most dear. "
Article XII. reads : ^^ Spirit has created all in and of Himself ;
God never created matter, for there is nothing in spirit out of which
matter could be made."
If that be true, then when I read in the Scriptures that God made
all things of nothing by the word of His power, I read what is
untrue. Nay, if this assertion in " Science and Health " be true,
the first sentence in the Bible, " In the beginning God created
the heavens and the earth," is a lie. If I accept this assertion as
true I can no more believe that the Scriptures are inspired— that
the holy men who wrote them were " moved by the Holy Ghost."
I can no more take the Bible for the rule of my faith and life
Rather than this, I say : " Let God be true, though it make every
man a liar."
THE PALL. .
Article XVI. teaches : "Since Ood is omnipotent and omni-
present there is no room for His opposite,'*
By this miserable sophistry an attempt is made to deny the
existence of the devil, and consequently of evil Miat both may be
ignored. If God were a material God, the assertion would be true,
for it is an axiom in mechanics— a self-evident truth — that " two
bodies cannot occupy the same place at the samp, time." But God
is not material ; " Qod is a spirit," or, according to " Science and
19th century MIIU0LB8. f
Health," a principle or an injluence / and a spirit, a principle or an
influence does not occupy space to the exclusion of another spirit,
principle or influence. Hence the existence of an omnipresent good
spirit or principle, however powerful, does not, for want of room,
make impossible the existence of a bad spirit or principle, of the
devil, or of evil. Therefore, if the opposite of God does not exist,
it is not from want of room. It must be from some other cause.
Article XII. says : " God made all that was made," and
Article XIV. says : " God makes good only, and evil cannot
proceed from good."
Fire is good, when in its proper place — the grate or furnace,
where it is man's servant, ministering to his need, obedient to his
will. But when it sweeps uncontrolled and uncontrollable over
town or country leaving the inhabitants ruined and homeless,
l^rchance lifeless, it has then become a great and very positive
evil, though originating in good.
Water is good, but when it bursts its barriers, as in the case of
the Johnstown disaster, or the inundation caused by the Yellow
River in China, it is then no longer good, but evil, and evil only.
The Devil himself was made by God (for " God made all that
was made " ), yet God is good and the Devil evil. It matters not at
present whether God made him evil, or whether He made him
good and h*^ afterwards became evil. The fact remains that evil
has proceeded and does proceed from good, ** Science and Health "
to the contrary notwithstanding.
At page 341, I read : ** Man is never sick, for mind is not sick
and matter cannot h'.." And at page 150 : ^* Sin, sickness, death
are comprised in a belief in matter. Because spirit is real and
harmonious, everything inharmonious — sin, sickness, death — is the
opposite of spirit, and must he the contradiction of reality, must be
unreal.^'
^, If sin, sickness and death are not real, but only imaginary, what
a marvellously powerful imagination mankind must have ! Of
the millions upon millions who have left this world only two have
not tasted of death. Could it be possible that our race whom God
made *' but a little lower than the angels," and " crowned with
glory and honour,"— Could it be possible that with two exceptions,
they should universally be such fools as to imagine and, by
imagining, deliberately and persistenly bring upon themselves pain,
and gicknesB and death, when they might have chosen health, and
g 19th ckntuuy miracles.
happiness and life 1 Is man's ima^Miintion so all-powerful as to
produce an all but universal rule— an all but universal obL'di.jnce to
a fate which man dreads and from which he shrinks MVhy ha^
not thn majority — nay, why have not all— imagined the reverse and
lived 1 Js there a reason why 1 Is it true that " death is the wages
of sin " 1 and hence " death passed upon all men for that all
liave sinned." I, at least, prefer to give credence to the declaration
of •* Holy Writ." "The soul that sinneth, it shall die," and to
believe that it is because of universal sin that we liave, with Vh
accompaniments of pain and sickness, that dread and terrible
reality, universal death.
On page 4.' 2 is the declaration : " Ood or goodness could never
make man ca/)able of sin.^*
When was the Almighty's power curtailed 1 He made the
angels capable of sin : when and how did it become impossible for
Him to make man capable of sin 1 And if n ..i was not made
capable of sinning, why did God forbid him to sin. saying : " Thou
shalt not eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, etc."
" And if man could not transgress His command, why did God
make the transgres.sion of it punishable with (hiath 1 It would be the
height of folly for human legislators to enact a law forbidding and
making punishable a crime which no citizen could possibly commit,
and is God less wise than man 1 And if God did not make man
capable of sin, where and how did he acquire that capability 1 Or,
if he never acquired it, and does not possess it, as is asserted in
" Science and Health," why, then, for 6,000 years, has he suffered
the penalty 1 And why is Christ called " the Lamb slain (in the
purpose of God) before the foundation of the world," to make
atonement for man's transgression, if man never transgressed and
was made incapable of transgression 1
It must be apparent to every thinking mind which sincerely
desires and earnestly seeks to know the Truth, that this latest
attempt to improve on the doctrines of Scripture and explain away
sin and the consequences of sin, can result only in an inextricable
labyrinth of absurdities and contradictions.
ATONEMENT.
And now we come to the Atonement, for though Christian
Science denies the Fall, it teaches the necessity of au Atonement
19th CKNTUriY MinACI.ES. 9
Wliy, and for what, is not apparent, sinco, if man hns not sinnnd,
and was not made capable of siniiiiiLf, tiioie can be nothing' to atone
for, and Ikmico no need for an atoiKMiiont.
On pii;^'(! 528 of "Science and Health." is the following; dj^fiiii-
tion : " Atonem<^nt stands for mortalitj/ di.m/>fieari7ig nnd immortal-
ity coini)i(j to li(jht. Atonement is not blood Jlowiiuj / lom the veins of
Jesus hid His o)it flowing sense of Life, Truth, Love. Af.o)ietne>it
is not so much th. <Uath on the cross, but the cross-bearing , deathles'<
h'/e, which was left by Jesus for an e.mmpfe to mau/ciud, and
ransoms from siti all who follovj it."
Now, I ask, is this tlio Atonement of Scripture 1 liistcn wliile I
read :
" Science AND Healtit." — ^'Atonement is not blood Jio winy
from the veins of Jesus. '^
"ScuiPTURE." — "Forasmuch as ye know that ye were not
redeemed witli corruptible things as silver and gold, hut witli the
jH-ecious blood of Christ."— 1 Peer i. 18, 19. "Unto Hiiii that
loved us, and washed us from our sins in His blood."— Kev. i. 5.
"Without slicdiling of blood is no remission." — Heb. i. 22.
" Science and Health." — " Atoiiement is not so much the death
on the cross, but the cross-bearing, deathless life, which was left by
Jesus, etc"
•« Soriptuue." — " For Christ also hath once suffered for sins,
the just for the unjust."— 1 Peter iii. 18. " Who His own self
bare our sins in His own body on the tree." — 1 Peter ii 24.
" Science and Health." — " One sacrifice, however great, is
insufficient to pay the debt of sin. l^he Atonement requires constant
self-im7nolation on the simier's part."
" ScuiPTUttE." — "Nor yet that He sliould offer himself often, as
the high prietit entereth into the holy place every year with blood
of others. For then must He often have suffered since the found-
ation of the world, but now ONCB in the end of the world hath He
appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself. And as it is
appointed unto men ONCE to die, and after this the judgment, so
Chiint was once offered to bear the sins of many." — Heb. ix. 25,
28. Comment of mine is unnecessary.
But why phould it be said that " one sacrifice, however great,
is insufficient to pay the debt of sin " 1 If Jesus Christ be the Son of
God, then He is infinite, and an infinite sacrifice ought to be suffi-
10 19th century MTRACr,B8.
cient to atone for the transgression of a law even though it be the
infinitely just law of an infinitely holy Goil. But the founder of
this new religion denies the divinity of Christ. He is only a man
in her ehtiniation, and, hence, not infinite.
THB lord's SUPPBR.
And now let us see what Christian Science teaches concerning
that Holy Ordinance which a dying Saviour instituted to commem-
orate His everlasting, houndless love to fallen man. The great
doctrines of a living, personal God, the blessed Trinity, the
Creation, the Fall and the Atonement, have all been either perverted
or denied. The Holy Ordinance of the Lord's Supper has fared no
better. The Christian Science by-law No. IV. says : " The
Sacrament shall be observed not oftener than once in two months.
It shall be observed by silent prayer^ after the manner that casts out
error and heals the sick, and by sacred resolutions to partake of the
bread that conieth down from heaven, and to drink of His cup of
sorrows and earthly persecutions, patiently for Christ's sake
(Truth's sake), knowirig that if we suffer for righteousness, we are
blessed of the Father.*'
Where is the symbol of Christ's broken body, which He blessed
and brake, and gave to the disciples, saying : " Take, eat : this is
my body which is broken for you : this do in remembrance of me " 1
Where is the symbol of His shed blood which He took in the
same manner, saying: "This cup is the New Testament in my
blood : this do ye, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of me " 1
They are both gone — put aside with contempt — the sacred ordi-
nance itself is gone, and in its place is put a thing of human
invention.
Could irreverent Vandalism go farther than this, you ask in
horror and amazement 1 Ah, yes, for though the founder of this
new religion may lack reverence and sense, she does not lack
audacity and self-conceit.
THE lord's prater.
Listen while I read you the Lord's Prayer after Christian
Science has revised and remodelled it. It is found in "Science
and Health," page 494 :
19tII CENTUUY MlllAOLKS. 11
"Our Father, who art in Heaven."
Our eternal Supreme Being, all-hariiioniou*,
" Hallowed be thy name."
Forever glorious.
" Thy kingdom come."
Ever preatnt and omnipotent.
*' Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven'"
Thy supremacy appears as matter duappeart.
" Give UB thia day our daily bread."
Thou giv «' to mortals the Jircad of Life,
" And forgive us our tlebts an we forgive our debtors."
Thy truth destroyelh the claims of error .
*' And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."
And led by Spirii, mortals are delivered from sickness, sin and death.
*' For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, und the glory, forever. Amen."
For Thou art Spirit, Lift, Truth, Love, and Man is Thy likeness forever. Sc
Belt,
Thus that prayer which Christ gave to His disciples as a model
— which has been the pattern prayer of His followers for
1800 years — which you and I learned to lisp at our mother's knee
— which is the grandest compendium of child-like faith, holy
adoration, heart-felt loyalty, willing obedience, trusting dependence
and humble, penitent petition wliicli this world has ever possessed,
is, by Mrs Eddy, in the name of, and for. Christian Science, trans-
formed into a jumble of high-sounding words and meaningless
phrases. It is worse than the Vandalism of the dark agep — a
thousand times worse. If Mrs. Eddy had her way, this foul
blaephcmy would take the place of that sublime form of prayer
through which millions upon milli(jns of souls, hungering and
thirsting after righteousness, have approached the mercy-seat, and
)reathed out the soul's desires to God.
' OBANGINO THE TEXT OP SORIPTURB.
" As adherents of Truth we take the Scriptures for our guide
to life, " so say the Christian Scientists. We have seen how they
pervert and distort th6 Scripture doctrines ; let me show you how
they also change the Word itself. The Scriptures say : " Itath
is the substance of things hoped for, etc." Chriitian Science
makes it read : ** Spirit is the substance of things hoped for."
The Scriptures say : " It doth not yet appear what we shall be ;
but we know that when he shall appear we shall be like him, for
we shall see him as he is." Christian Science makes it read : " Then
shall it appear what we are and we shall be like him for we shall
12 19th century MdtACLES.
be as he is " The Scriptures say : " Christ \V3s manifested that
he miglit briii<,' life and immortality to light." Christian Science
makes it: "Christian Science brought life and immortality to light."
It must be quite evident that those who distort the doctrines,
and garble the text, of Scripture, might just as well take any other
book for their guide to life and find it quite as satisfactory as the
Scriptures.
MIRACLES.
Now leaving their perversions of Word and doctrine, let us
turn to their authority for working miracles of healing.
When, just before His ascension, the Master appeared to the
sleven as they sat at meat and commissioned them to " go into
all the world and preach the Gospel to every creature," He also
said : " And these signs shall follow them that believe : in my
name shall they cast out devils ; they shall speak with
new tongues ; they shall take up serpents ; and if they drink any
deadly thing it shall not hurt them ; they shall lay hands on the
sick, and they shall recover." — Mark xvi. 15-18.
Power to perform five distinct and separate kinds of miracles
was hereby conferred on the apostles. The 4th might be called
passive ; requiring no active exercise of faith on theii part, and in
Scripture there is no record of its performance. The 1st, 2nd, 3rd.
and 5th were active ; that is, they required an active exercise of
faith, and were all performed. By referring to the Acts of the
Apostles it will be seen that the apostles " cast out devils" (Acts
V. 16 ; viii. 7 ; xix. 12) ; " spake with other tongues " (Acts ii. 4 ; x.
46 ; xix. 6) ; "took up noxious reptiles," and felt no harm (Acts
xxviii. 5) ; "laid hands on the sick, and they recovered " (Acts
v. 15, 16 ; ix. 17, 18 ; xxviii. 8).
It is matter of history that aft^ r the apostolic age the power of
working miracles was not heard of for centuries. To me it is
incredible that the church performed, or possessed the power to
perform, miracles, and that there is no record of it. And the fact
that after the death of the apostles the church did not exercise, or
even claim to possess, this power until she had become corrupt, is a
powerful, if not a conclusive, argument that she did not possess it.
At the present day there are those who maintain that this
power was conferred for all time, and declare that, in consequence
the sick are now healed miraculously. But note these points :
10th century MIRACr.ES. 13
1st. None, not even their bitterest enemies, could question the
reality of the miracles performed by the apostles, but, so far.
these modern miracle- workers have failed to establish beyond
question their claim to have performed even one.
2nd. Power to perform five distinct classes of miracles — four of
them requirinfy the active exercise of faith — was conferred on the
apostles, and they performed all these four classes, while those who
claim that the mantle of the apostles has fallen on them profess to
perform only one. Now one of two things must be true ; they
either live very far beneatb their privileges, or else they lay claim
to powers that they do not possess, and which God never intended
them to possess. If power to perform one class or kind of
miracles was transmitted, so was power to perform all, for there
was no distinction made by the Master. If they can heal the sick
they can also impart the power to speak in other tongues ; then
why Jo they not confer this on our inissionaries, so that instead
of spending long years in acquiring a langnnge, they would, at
once, be able to proclaim the unsearchable riches of Christ to the
millions now perishing in heathen darkness ? If they possess this
power, why do they fritter it away in healing the mortal body
only, which is of little worth ? Why do they not follow the
example of the Master, rather, and expend it also in furthering
the salvation of priceless, immortal souls for whom Christ died '?
But with regard to the one kind of miracles these would-be
miracle- workers claim to perform, I would ask : Have you ever
learned, from credible authority, of them giving sight to one who
was born blind, or making one lame from his mother's womb, walk,
and leap, and praise God ? Never ! Have you ever learned of
them making the deaf to hear, or the dumb to speak ? Never I
Have you ever learned of them cleansing a leper, restoring a
withered limb, or giving life to the dead ? Never ! And why
not ? There is a reason why.
Let me read once more : " These signs shall follow.
The future tense of the verb, you will note — ^'■them that'"
— not shall believe. No, but " them that believe," the present
tense of the verb, — that believe noiv (by notv, I mean when the
words were spoken), not them that shall believe a thousand or
two thousand years afterwards.
" A wise man proportions his belief to the evidence." Fact,
reason and Scripture all unite in teaching us that the so-called
miracles of the present day are as unworthy of credence as those
pretended miracles of the Egyptian priests and the Greek and
1'
14
19th century miracles.
Roman oracles. They are unworthy the name of miracles. " A
miracle is an act or event brought about by supernatural or
sui)erhaman power." These are simply pitiful absurdities. To
me it seems quite evident that the mir cle- working power was
given for the apostolic age only — that it was never intended to be
transmitted.
Insignificant as a grain of sand to a mountain, or a drop of
water to the ocean, are the so-called miracles of the present day
compared with those recorded in Scripture. Or to that stupen-
dous miracle of a soul made in the ima^e of God — pure and holy
— yet sunk in sin and wretchedness ; God's image defaced and
hidden — a soul that has become " nothing but wounds and bruises
and putrefying sores," without hope for this world or the next, — [
say that those pretended miracles are as nothing compared with
the stupendous miracle which takes place when such an one in
simple, child-like faith grasps the outstretched hand of a living,
loving, sympathizing Saviour, and, by His aid, leaves behind the
" fearful pit and the miry clay," and stands on the " Rock of Ages,"
pure and upright before His Maker ; hope once more gilding the
future ; God's image again shining forth in the soul ; man holy
as he came from the creative hand ; happy as God is happy ;
perfect for all eternity — not through works of righteousness which
he Las done, but only through the perfection of Christ made his by
faith.
Friends, when we "live the life that we now live by faith in
the Son of God," and by word and example have assisted even one
fellow-being to see his lost and ruined condition, and taught him
to cry : " God be merciful to me a sinner" — when, by our instru-
mentality, we see even one soul growing in likeness to Him who is
the brightness of the Father's glory and the express image of His
person — one soul living in harmony with the Divine will, become
" an heir of God and joint-heir with Jesus Christ," then, ascribing
all honour to Him who is "King of kings and Lord of lords,
unworthy though we be of such high honour, we may justly claim
to be 00- workers with a miracle-working God.
PRAISE.
The word praise, like the word prayer, implies the existence
of two orders of intelligent beings, an inferior and a superior, a
master and a dependent, a benefactor and a beneficiary, a creature
and a Creator. But the word praise implies more than this. It
implies that the superior feels an interest in the inferior, that the
master stoops to minister to the wants of his dependent, that
the beneficiary is grateful to his benefactor, that the creature
recognizes the greatness, wisdom and goodness of his Creator.
Praise Webster defines as " admiration, approbation or com-
inendation bestowed on a person for his personal virtues or worthy
actions ;" and this is probably the generally accept' ' meaning of
the word. But when we think of praise in oonneciion with the
worship of the one living and true God — when by meditation
and study of the Word of God we realize something of the breadth
and depth of the term, something of its comprehensiveness — we
discover that Webster's definition is a very lame one indeed, since
it takes cognizance only of the act itself, without any reference to
the motive that prompted it, or the state of the heart.
Every Christian knows, or ought to know, that true praise
— praise which is acceptable to the Most High — can only be
rendered by him whose heart is right in the sight of God ; who
" loves not in word, neither in tongue, but in deed and truth."
He who *' glorifies God in his body, and in his spirit, which are
God's " — he alone can offer God acceptable praise. He who
" loves the Lord our God with all his heart, and with all his
soul, and with all his mind, and with all his strength ; and his
neighbour as himself " — his praise is praise indeed.
In view of this fact I think I am justified in saying that the
pr^'^se offered to God is often the most fulsome flattery. Nay,
rm ; it is the poison of asps, the " Hail, Master " that preceded
the traitor's kiss. Do we not sometimes praise God with our lips
while our hearts are filled with malice and envy towards our
fellowmen, forgetting or ignoring the fact that he who loves God
will love his neighbour as himself ; that if a man say he loves
God whom he hath not seen, and hateth his brother whom he hath
2 PRAISE.
seen, hfi is a liar, and " lying lips are an abomination to thr
Lord ? " Praise is not praise unless it sprinn;s from a heartfelt
oonviction on tho part of the bestower that he on whom it it-
l)Pstow( d is worthy. It is not praise, and God will not accept il
as such, unless the hejirt of the worshipper beats with loyalty to
Him, and charity towards all men.
Prayer is almost co-existent with man, and wherever prayer
lifts her pleading voice there praise pours forth her song of joy or
plaintive lamentfition. I know not half a- dozen systems of
religion, ancient and modern, whether their object be the worship
of false gods, or the worship of the True, in which praise is not
linked with prayer in the service. Where one is the other is sure
to be. They possess many characteristics in common. Invocation,
adoration, thanksgiving, exhortation, instruction, confession, peti-
tion, intercession, etc., are common to both. Either of them may
b' the medium by which we teach Gospel truths, profess our
faith, declare our love, express our joy, our sorrow, our hopes, oi-r
doubts, our fears; bewail our sinfulness, our inconstancy, our un-
profitableness, our neglected opportunities ; make known our
triumphs, or lament our defeats. Either of them may be the
means of keeping the love of God's people warm, of firing their
hearts anew with zeal and ardor, of inciting others to glorify our
Father in heaven, or of holding communion with Him ourselves.
Tlie three persons in the Godhead, their offices and attributes, the
Church and her duty, man's fall and restoration, — in short, what-
ever concerns God's glory or man's eternal welfare — may be our
theme, and prayer and praise alike be the channel by which we
express our ideas. But they have striking differences.
Prayer is the petition of the needy supplicant ; praise is the
spontaneous outpouring of a heart grateful for favours conferred.
Prayer is the wail of an agonizing, weary heart ; praise is the
language of him who has received " the oil of joy for mourning."
Prayer is the "contrite sinner's voice returning from his way ;'* '
praise is the song of the penitent who " knows his sins forgiven."
Prayer is the almost despairing cry of the lost ; praise is the joy-
ous tribute of him who has been redeemed. Prayer is the moan-
ing of the condemned criminal, quailing before the terrors of the
law ; praise is the paean of him who can " sing of mercy and
judgment." Prayer is the sigh of him who is the slave of sin
and Satan; praUe is the anthem of the f reed-man who "stands
PRAISE. 8
in the lihorty whorowitli 01 st has uiado him freo." Prayer is
the call for help of tlxa suldier in the battle, " pressed by many a
foe ; " 'praise is the triumphant shout of him who has come off
" conqueror, and more than conqueror." Prayer is the channel
by which we obtain blessings from God ; "praise is the telephonic
acknowledgment of His loving kindnesses and tender mercies.
Prayer is the burden of him who " goeth forth weeping bearing
precious' seed;" praise is his thanksgiving when he "cometh
again rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." Prayer is the
ladder of faith up which the soul climbs slowly, wearily, often
painfully heavenward ; praise is the soul's hallelujah when it has
mounted to the very presence of the Eternal. Prayer is the
privilege of the sinner; praise is the duty alike of the sinner and
of him who hath never sinned. Prayer is for time only ; praise
is for time and eternity as well Prayer is for mortal man alone ;
praise is for all the works of God's hands.
" All Thy works shall praise Thee, O God." All Thy works,
except the fallen angels and fallen man, praise Thee willingly,
gladly ; but even from these Thou shalt exact Thy meed of praise.
Thou shalt make even the wrath of man to praise Thee, and the
devil and his angels shall yet bring unwilling glory to Thy name.
For Thy glory they are and were created, and they shall yet fulfil
the purpose for which Thou didst create them. Thine eternal
counsels are deeper than their malignity. They cannot outreach
Thee. They cannot defeat Thy purposes; dominion and power
be'ong to Thee. Thou art able to subdue all things unto Thyself,
ai nothing can hinder the accomplishment of Thy designs; Thou
wilt not give Thy glory to another, and none can wrest it from
Thee. " As I live, saith the Lord, Every knee shall bow to Me,
and every tongue shall confess to God." Even now
" The hosts of heaven His praises tell,
And all who in His shadow dwell,
In earth, and air, and sea,
Declare and laud their Maker's might,
Whose wisdom orders all things right.'
And the time is coming when —
* ■
" O'er every foe victorious, -
/ . He on His throne shall rest ;
■ ,^-- From age to age more glorious, »
All blesaing and aU blest."
4 PRAISE. ^
If praise be "admiration, approbation, or commendation
bestowed on a person for his personal virtues or worthy actions,"
— if Webster's definition even approach correctness — then God alone
is worthy of praise in its highest sense. True, whoever possesses
or cultivates nobility of character, whoever inculcates virtue,
whoever performs good deeds from good motives, whatever
willingly fulfils the end of its being, whether it be animate or
inanimate, deserves praise.
We admire a flower for its delicate perfume, a diamond for
its sparkling brilliancy, the snow for its spotless purity, the rain-
bow for its beautiful colors, the sun for its dazzling brightness,
the midnight storm for its awe-inspiring grandeur, the ocean for
its almost boundless extent and limitless power : and justly so.
But when we admire these, we in reality praise their Maker, for
they but reflect His glory and power.
We commend a man for his industry, honesty and integrity ;
a woman for her prudence, modesty and chastity ; and such men
and women are worthy of our warmest commendation and our
imitation. But when we commend these, we praise Him who
implanted these virtues in their bosoms. All true praise has God,
either directly or indirectly, for its object. And He alone is
all-worthy, He alone is all-wise, all good and all-powerfuL He
alone is perfect in Word and Work.
Having seen what praise implies, and what it is ; wherein
prayer and praise resemble each other, and wherein they differ ;
and that God alone is worthy of praise in its highest sense, because
in Him alone is absolute perfection ; we will now inquire : Who
should praise God 1 when, why and how 1
I. Who should praise God 1
'* All Thy works shall praise Thee, God." So sang the
Shepherd King, the Sweet Singer of Israel. And all God's
works should praise Him. "All things were made by Him;
and without Him was not anything made that was made." '• And
God saw everything that He had made, and behold it was very
good."
But of all God's works, none has such reason to praise Him as
fallen man. Those creatures that have not fallen from their
first estate have not been promoted to a more honourable, and
probably never will. ' The angels that fell have been left in their
PRAISE. 5
degradation &nd sin ; while for fallen niHU He has prepared a way
of restoration to even more than his pristine glory.
"God creav.ed man in His own imago, in the image of God
created He him ; male and female creat( d He them. And God
blessed them, and gave them dominion over the fish of the sea,
and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that
moveth upon the earth."
From this holy state and high position man fell of his own free
will, and God might have left hira in his degradation and sin. at^
'He left the angels who kept not their tirst estate ; but He chose
rather to look upon him with compassion, and, in the counsels of
eternity, devised a plan whereby His holy, perfect and immut-
able law might be vindicated, and man escape the penalty due to
him for sin. The problem was a difficult one. " 'Twas great
to speak a world from naught;" but even the Infinite foand,
"'twas greater," harder, "to redeem." Heaven and earth and
all creation were searched for a ransom, but there was none to save.
Omnipotence Himself is filled with astonishment, and cries, " Is
there none to help? Sacrifice and offering I would not. In
burnt-offering and sacrifices for sin I have no pleasure. It is not
possible that the blood of bulls and of goats should take away
sins. Is there no way found ? Is there none to save 1 " Then,
and not till then, did the Second Person in that august assemblage,
moved with compassion, start forward and cry, " Sacrifice and
offering Thou wouldest not. Ir. burnt-offerings and sacrifices for
sin Thou hast no pleasure. Lo / come, / delight to do Thy will,
Lord. Prepare Me a body like unto sinful man, and let Me
go to earth, and obey the law which he cannot now obey ; let
Me be degraded and despised that he may be crowned with glory
and honour ; let Me suffer the penalty due to him j let Me die
that he may live for ever." All heaven starts back in amazement.
Joyous faces become less joyful ; happy hearts grow almost sad,
as countless voices, tremulous with a gladness that is akin to
sorrow, ask, **Isit possible that the Godhead must be shorn of
its glory 1 — that heaven must be impoverished 1 — that God Him-
self must die for man, the creature's sin 1 " " Even so. Father,
for so it seemed good in Thy sight." And now we can say,
"The blood of Jesus Ohrist cleanseth us from all sin. The grave
$ PRAISB.
hath lost its victory, and death its sting. Earth hath now no
sorrov) that liwiven cannot heal."
Metiiinks this inystery of mystf^riea, which even the angels-
desire to look into, had been the subject of the Psalmist's medi
tation ere he burst forth in that sublime song : " Bless the Lord,
O my soul; and all that is within me, bless His holy name. Bless
the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits." After
dwelling a while on God's goodness and mercy he concludes by
calling on the "angels of the Lord ; all His hosts ; all His works,
in all places of His dominion ; and his own soul, to bless the Lord ''
And shall toe not bU ss Him? Can we keep from praising Him
who has loved us with such a wondrous love, and redeem ed us
with such a priceless ransom ?
The lowly moss that clothes the rugged rocks with beauty
and the dew-drop glittering in the morning sunlight glorify their
Maker, and shall man lay no tribute at His feet? The fire and
hail, the snow and vapours, and the stormy wind fulfil God's
\N rd, and shall man be disobedient f The pattering rain, the
rippling rill, the rushing river and the mighty deep, all do His
will, and sound His /?rais^, and shall man be dumb before His
Maker? Every fish of the sea, every fowl of the air, and every
living thing that moveth, each in its own way, proclaims God's
greatness, wisdom and love> and has man whom He endowed with
superior intelligence and gave dominion over tli >m — has he no
song of thanksgiving for Him who made both him and them ?
The heavens declare the glory of God, and shall man^ ^vho can
measure the heavenly bodies and weigh them as in balances —
shall man not worship Him who called them all from naught?
" The stars shall fade away, the sun himself grow dim with age,
and nature sink in years," but man^ if he will, may flourish in
immortal youth, and shall he not adore Him who thus placed
upon H'm the impress of immortality? Even the cherubim and
seraphim veil their faces and cry, " Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of
Sabaoch ; heaven and earth are full of the majesty of Thy glory,"
and shall man not call on his soul and all that is within him to
praise and magnify His holy name, who left heaven with all its
happiness and glory, " took upon Him the form of a servant,"
•*was wounded for our transgressions, and bruised for our iniqui-
ties," tasted even death — the accursed death of the cross — that
PUAISK. 7
man might be lifted from the abyss of sin and wretchodnoss into
which he had fallen, be exalted above cherubiiij and .seraphim, and
set down on the throne of His Redeemer, even as Me is set down
on the throne of the Majesty on liigh ?
**0h, 'twas love, 'twaa wnndroiia love I
The love of God to me,
It brought mv Suviour from al)ove,
• To die on Calvary."
Yes, to die on Calvary for you and for me. Think of Him
alone among his accusers, *' scoflfed at, spit on and heat." Behold
llim staggering up to Calvary's summit, bearing His cross, till
exhausted nature fails, and He falls beneath his load. Watch him
nailed to the accursed tree by his cruel tormentors, while the
lacerated flesh, quivering at every stroke, boars witness to the
keeness of the pain. Hanging on the tree, His body writhes in
agony as the pangs of death lay hold on Him, His soul was
"exceeeding sorrowful, even unto death," at the thought of
what He must endure to save a lost and ruined world ; but now
that earth and hell have conspired to visit upon Him the punish-
ment due to all the sins of earth's unnumbered millions of trans
gressors His human strength fails Him, He raises His eyes
heavenward seeking for that strength that has never been denied
Him before, and, oh, the anguish on His face as He realizes that
His Father, too, has forsaken Him ! oh, the agony in His voice
as he cries, *• Ehi^ Eloi, lama sabachthani I " and, oh, what a
world of compassion in that sigh, " Father^ forgive them, Jor
they know not what they do /"
Can you look at such a scene, and know that all this was
endured by Him that you might go free, and have no gratitude in
your heart, no thanksgiving on your lipsl Can you look on such
a scene and say that you ought not to praise God ? Impossible !
Were man to hold his peace the very rocks would find tongues to
shout II is praise.
What siiall we, or what can we, render unto the Lord for this
and all His other benefits towards us ? We can but " offer unto
Him the sacrifice of thanksgiving; take the cup of salvation, and
call upon the name of the Lord." We can but take the mercies
He bestows, thank Him for them, and ask for more.
II. When should we praise God?
8 PRAISl.
It ifl meet and ri^ht that we should praise Qti always. He
is the Author of our being, and we should pay Him th(5 tribute
which the creature owes the Creator. It is this tribute which
the Psalmist (ills for in the 100th Psalm. "Make a joyful
noise unto the Lord, all ye lands. Serve the Lord with gladness ;
come before His presence with thanksgiving. Know ye that
the Lord He is God ; it is He that made us, and not we ourselves ;
we are His people, and the sheep of His pasture." And again
in the 149th Psalm, ** Let Israel rejoice in Him that made him."
And the Apostle Paul in his Epistle to the Philippians says,
•' Kejoice in the Lord alway ; and again I say. Rejoice." And
David in the 34th Psalm says, " I will bless the Lord at all times j
y.is praise shall continually be in my mouth."
III. Why should we praise God 1
He is the Preserver of onr lives, upholding all things by the
word of His power. He is the Supplier of all our wants ; and
there is not a day nor an hour when we want not. He has not
only given us the fruit of the tree and every green herb to be to
us for meat, but every living thing that moveth, even as the green
herb. The fowls of the air neither sow nor reap, nor gather into
barns ; the lilies neither toil nor spin ; and He, who feeds the
fowls of the air, and clothes the grass of the field, provides for
our returning wants. He hath ordered the return of the seasons,
and declared that, " While the earth remaineth, seed-time and
harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and
night, shall not cease." And each returning season brings its
needed supply. "Free as the air His bounty flows on all His
works." " Every good gift, and every perfect gift, is from above,
and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no
variableness, neither shadow of turning."
"High throned on heaven's eternal hill,
. ' In number, weight and measure still,
He sveetly ordereth all that is."
^ His thoughts to us- ward are more than can be numbered."
His provision for us is never:ceasing, though we may never thir.k
vf our blessings aa coming from Him.
FRAI8B,
Oliver Wendell Holmes haH said : — " If one should give roe a
dish of sand, and tell me that there were particlea of iron in it, 1
might search for them with my clumsy fingers, and be unable to
detect them ; but take a magnet and swing through it, and the
magnet will draw to it the particles of iron immediately. So let
the thankful heart sweep through the day, and, as the magnet
finds the iron, it will find in every hour some heavenly blessings ;
only the iron in God's sand is always gold."
But how often is our debt of gratitude left unpaid ; our obli-
gation unacknowledged, even unthought of 1 God's gold is there,
but we do not see it. We take the blessings He bestows upon
us, enjoy them, and forget whence they came.
With the wicked, the unregenerate, this is not so much to be
wondered at, for "God is not in all their thoughts." If they
think of Him at all, it is only with dread ; it is only to wish that
He were not, " God is angry with the wicked every day ;" and
it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of an angry God. The
fool hath even said in his heart, " There is no God ;" then why
should he acknowledge his indebtedness to Him ?
But v/ith the Christian it is otherwise. He has taken the
Lord to be his God. He is, or should be, proud to confess that
the God of Jacob is his "refuge and strength," his " help and his
salvation." And his God is constantly bestowing upon him bless-
ings that the unconverted know not of. He manifests Himself
unto him as He does not unto the world. To him, He is no longer
Jehovah, the Eternal, the Immutable, but Jehovah Tsidkenu,
The Lord our Righteouaneaa. He has not only his creation and
preservation to praise Him for, but his redemption as well.
Others may speak of God's glory and power, of His anger and
His judgments; but the Christian can tell of His redeeming love.
Others may tell of temporal blessings ; but the Christian can tell
of spiritual blessings. Others may be joyful in prosperity ; but
the Christian can rejoice even in tribulation and adversity. Others
may be joyful when the world is sounding their praises ; but the
Christian can " rejoice and be exceeding glad " when the world is
" persecuting him and saying all manner of evil against him
falsely." Others may be joyful in health; but the Christian can
say, ** It is good for me that I have been afflicted." Others may
be joyful in life ; but the Christian can say, " For me to live is
10 PRAISB.
Christ, l)ut to (\\e in t,'ftin." Otliors sne tlioir dopartod fritJiK^s laid
in the toiul), illumiiiatod with no radianco from on hi«h ; hut the
ChriHtian looks heyond the tomb, and Hoes his " lovod and lost
ones " Hluiiin^' like stars in the diadetn of the Redeemer. Others
may start, and fear to die; but the Christian calmly falls asleep
in Jesus, cheered with the hope of a blessed immortality.
Lord, " Thou hast done great things for us : whereof we are glad."
"Oh! woulfl T had a thousand tonffiieft
To sound Thy praise o'er land and flea I
Oh ! rich and Hweet should be my songs,
( )f all my (rod has done for me 1
With thank fulnes.s my heart must often swell,
But mortal lipa Thy praises faintly tell.
" Oh that my voice could far resound
Up to yon stars that o'er me shine 1
Woidd that my blood for joy nM|j;ht bound
Through every vein while life is mino !
Would that each pulse were gratitude, each breath
A song to Him who keeps me safe from death I
" Yes, Lord, through all my changing days,
With each new scene afresh I mark
H<»w wondrously Thou guifl'at my ways,
Where all seems troubled, wilder'd, dark ;
When dangers thicken fast, and hopes depart.
Thy light beams comfort on my sinking heart.
" Shall I not then be filled with joy?
Shall I n<it praise Thee evermore?
Triumphant songs my lips employ,
K'en when my cup of woe runs o'er ;
Nay, though the heavens should vanish as a scroll,
Nothing shall shake or daunt my trusting soul."
IV. How should we praise God 1
Praise may be rendered in two ways ; by word and by deed.
When a devotional exercise, employed in the worship of the one
living and true God, it is usually expressed in song, and sung
with musical modulations of the voice. Man may be satisfied
with praise when it pleases the ear, though the heart of the
singer may have neither part nor lot in the matter. You and I
have been strangely moved — have felt our hearts thrill and our
eyes grow moist, as we listened to songs of mirth, and love, and
pathos, sung by earth's great vocalists; for music hath charms, and
PRAISB. XI
th« human voice, when perfect and highly cultivated, ih an instru
inent of woiidrou.s sweetncHH and power. But praise, to be
acceptable to the Most Hii^h, must be Hung with the rrK^lody of
the heart; not with the voice alone, but with tho heart and the
understandin;,' as well. For **God is a Spirit, and they tliat wor-
ship Him muHt worship Him in Spirit and in truth."
All honor to the n>an or woman who, having a heart attuned
to sing God's praise and a well-trained voice, lends that voice to
swell His praises in the sanctuary. And would it not be well for
the Church of God to insist that those who presume to lead, sus-
tain and guide her congregations in their praise offerings be men
and women whose hearts are consecrated to God, and whose lives
bear witness to that consecration] Of songs sung by choirs like
this it may well be said, " Earth gives forth no holier sound, nor
d- es heaven echo sweeter." Songs of praise Eung by choirs like
this rise above earth, reverberate through the courts of heaven,
and move with joy the heart of the Eternal Himself.
Have you ever thought that our prayers and praises add to
God's happiness, and withholding them detracts from it? That
man should possess the power to add to, or subtract from,
the happiness of the Injiniteia a startling thought, but 'tis a true
one. How wonderful that God, not wholly satisfied with the
glorious symphonies of the heavenly choir, should turn from that
angelic music and bend a listening ear to catch the imperfect,
discordant strains of His sinful children here ! How incompre-
hensible that there should be joy in heaven over the thanksgiving
of one repentant sinner, more than over the sublime anthems of
ninety-andnine of those just ones that need no repentance 1 Oh,
fail not then, I beseech you, to pay the tribute which the creature
owes to His Creator, the redeemed to his Redeemer, the sancti-
fied to Him that sanctifieth.
And it might not be out of place to call attention just here to
the two entirely distinct functions of music in divine service.
Itajirst function xs to unite the voices of the worshippers in utter-
ing praise to God ; and its second to convey religious truth and
sentiment to the minds of the people as listeners. It is for 6a;pi es-
sior, and for impression, and when this double function is
generally recognized the united praise-offerings of the whole con-
gregation, as their voices blend in sweet songs sung to simple
1 2 PBAI8B.
airs, will be in beautiful, significant and delightful contrast with
the act of tho choir, as with the skill acquired by long-continued,
painstaking '.udy, and voices tidir«d and harmonized by persist-
ent practice, they interpret the grand musical compositions of
earth's great masters and thus impress upon the minds of the
listening people the meaning of sacred words, — ^Ueaching and
admonishing with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs.**
When this double function is generally recognized the choir
will no longer be expected to sing something, called a voluntary^
without any particular reference to the fitness of it, except that
the words, so far as they are understood, shall have a pious sort
of sound, shall not be distinctively irreligious. Our choirs should
have a higher aim than simply to entertain the congregation, or
worse still, exhibit their own skill. They should feel it their
privilege, nay more, their duty to assist God's ambassador to
implant sacred, eternal truths in the minds and hearts of the
listening people, thus sowing the seed for a harvest to be
garnered in eternity. But while we should ever pray, "O Lord,
open Thou my lips, and my mouth shall show forth Thy praise,"
we should never forget that the most acceptable praise-oflering we
can present to God is a noble, consistent, Christian life. It is
well to profess, but our profession is worthless unless we make our
lives harmonize with our profession. Lip-service alone is an
insult unless we " present our bodies a living sacrifice, holy,
acceptable unto God, which is our reasonable service."
Yet the praise which man offers to God will never be perfect
till this world we dwell in, with all its imperfections, shall have
passed away, and man shall ctand once more pure and upright
before his Maker. Then, and not till then, shall he offer Him
the tribute of a " a pure heart, a good conscience and love un-
feigned." Our praise-offerings here are sadly marred. Ever and
anon sin and self make jarring discords in our harmony. Now
and then we are charmed and strangely moved by some glad sweet
voice ; but while we listen, almost entranced, the singer falters,
the song ceases. We look around t< learn the reason, and find
that the singer has le^^t the choir. And the time is coming, we
know not how near it may be, when your voice and mine shall be
hushed, to be heard on earth no more ; our last song ended, our
last day's work done. Let us ask ourselves where and how we
PRAISE. IJ
shall spend our eternity. Will it be in the land " where congre-
gations ne'er break up," where no eye shall be dimmed with tears,
no heart be sad, and none shall ever go out ] Shall we join that
great multitude of the redeemed who stand before the throne
singing praises to God and the lamb 1 Thank God we may, if
we be " faithful and true."
O friends, let us " ffive all diligence to make our calling and
election sure." Let us rest our hopes of salvation on Christ
alone, and be able to give a reason for the hope that is in us.
Let no harsh word or unkind deed mar the perfect '^arraony that
should exist between our faith and life. Let our lips sound God's
praises, and our lives be a constant praise-offering to Him. Let
us pray God to work in ob both to will and to do, * that we may
worship and serve Him acceptably, and with godly fear, while in
this present evil world ; and when we are called hence to enter on
a higher life in a better world we will no longer sing God's praises
with a 'halting, stammering tongue.'" When we have entered
into that " rest that remaineth for the people of God" — not a rest
from labour, not a rest from praise, but only a rest from the
strife and din of « ^rth, an everlasting rest from our struggle with
sin and Satan, — oh, what joy will be ours when our voices blend
with those of angel and archangel, cherubim and seraphim, in the
songs of that better land. What honor will the Father confer
on us when He bids all else hush their joyous songs while the
great company of the redeemed sing that new song which angels
and archangels cannot sing, but only the redeemed 1 And will it
not be ample compensation for all the struggles and trials of earth
to see " Him that liveth for ever and ever " incline His ear to hear
the song of the mortals who have put on immortality, and bending
alternate glances of love on the praisers and the praised ? How
the heart of the Son will swell with satisfaction as He sees the joy
of the Father over those for whom His soul did travail, and hears
their song of gratitude and praise : " Thou art worthy . . . /or
Thou wast sfain, artd hast redeemed its to God by Thy blood out of
every kindred^ and tongue, and people, and nation ; and hast made
us unto our God kings and priests." And how the walls of the
new Jerusalem will ring with the voices of that great multitude,
like the voice of many waters, and the voice of many thunderings,
m all the hosts of heaven, all that fiar God, both small and great,
14
PRAISE.
join in that adoring shout, Alleluia : for the Lord God
Omnipotent reigneth.
O, that the language of every soul here this night might be :
*' God, of Thy goodness will I sing
As long as 1 have life and breath,
Offerings of thanks I'll daily bring
Until my heart is still in death ; ^
/ :^nd when at last my lips grow pale and cold,
Yet in my sighs Thy praises shall be told.
"Father, do Thou in mercy deign
To listen to ly earthly lays; ' ;
Yet shall I loam a nobler strain
Where angels ever hvmn Thy praise,
rbere in the radiant choir I too shall sinir
touni hallelujahs to my glorious King.*
A Creature Unknown to Natural Science.
Naturalists have divided all matter into three classes or
kingdoms, the animal, the vegetable, and th-e minera/. In the
beginning, ere plants or animals existed, this earth, with
everything in it and on it, consisted of lifeless, unorganized
matter. There was then but one kingdom in nature— the
minera/ kingdom.
In itself, matter had no power to rise above the sphere
in which it was created. If it was ever to become aught but
lifeless, unorganized matter, the change must be brought
about by a power outside of, and superior to, itself. So in
process of time, when the surface of the earth had become
adapted to their support, God formed plants and trees, and
set them in the soil that they might grov,- and bring forth
fruit. This was the beginning of the second kingdom in
nature — the vegetable kingdom.
Again, when the fulness o^ time was come, beasts, birds,
reptiles, and fishes were created. They also consisted of
living, organized matter, but of a highe-r type than that
possessed by the plants. The vegetable could assimilate and
vivily only inanimate, unorganized matter of the mineral
kingdom. The animal was given power to assimilate the
animate and inanimate, the organized and the unorganized,
the mineral and the vegetable, infusing life into the inanimate
and unorganized, and elevating the already animate and
organized into a higher type of life and organization. This
was the third kingdom in nature — the ajiimal kingdom.
The members of all three kingdoms were made susceptible
of growth Those of the mineral kingdom grow by additions
from \vithout of like matter to themselves. Those of the
vegetable and animal grow from within by the assimilation
of dissimilar matter. Their distinguishing characteristics
have been expressed thus : " Stones grow ; vegetables grow
and live ; animals grow, live, and feel."
At length our earth arrived at such a state that it was
2 A CREATURE UNKNOWN TO NATURAL SCIENCE.
capable of supporting a creature superior, both physically
and . . 'lectually, to any that had hitherto existed, and then
at the li^ad of the highest kingdom in nature was placed man,
with an erect form, a reasoning mind, and a soul made in the
image of God— pure and holy. A rule of life and action was
given hmi. Whatever his heart desired that he might do —
with one exception. He might not eat of the tree of the
knowledge of good and evil. " For," said God, " in the day
that thou eatest thereof, dying thou shalt die." Man dis-
obeyed. He ate of the forbidden fruit, and on that day death
passed upon Adam and upon all his race. Thereafter all
mankind were "dead in trespasses and in sins." , .-■'
The same laws that govern in the material world govern
also in the spiritual. Such a thing as spontaneous generation
has no existence m either. " Ex ni/ii/o, nihil Jit" (from
nothing, nothing comes), is true of both matter and spirit, in
heaven and on earth. When God had created our planet
then ** the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters,"
^ ndering, devising, organizing, constructing, vivifying, per-
fecting, till, as the result of the counsels and bror dings of the
Eternal, there sprang into existence from the Creative Hand
plants and animals instinct with life, perfect in species, per-
fect in beauty, perfect in adaptation to the place and state of
existence and to the end for which they were created.
So, now that man was '* dead in trespa. es and in sins " —
now that the grandest piece of God's six days' work, the
crowning glory of Creation had become a helpless wreck, an
utter ruin, dead to God, and to all that is good and pure and
holy, the Eternal Counsellors, incited thereto and guided
therein by an everlasting, boundless love, devised a way by
which the Holy Spirit brooding over the " dead in sins " —
striving, convincing, converting, teaching, guiding, nourish
ing, strengthening, quickening, might raise the spiritually
dead to a life of immortality — a '• life hid with Christ in God."
Death was permitted to lay his icy hand on man because
he disbelieved God and disobeyed Him. If man, dead and
undone, were ever to be quickened, and walk in newness of
life, it could only be by believing in, and obeying, the God
whom he had offended. Ere this could be possible full satis-
■ ' - A CREATURE UNKNOWN TO NATURAL SCIENCE. 6
faction must be made for the sin ot unbelief and for the
actual transgression of the law. As the sin and the trans-
gression were against an infinitely just law, and an infinitely
holy God, only an infinite atonement could suffice. Who
could make that atonement ? Who could pay the debt ?
Not man, for he was both dead and bankrupt. Not the
angels, the cherubim, or seraphim, for the whole created
universe, had it been theirs to give, was as nothing in the
sight of God. Where, then, was a propitiation to be found ?
Man " dead in trespasses and in sins " cries " Where ? " The
angels in heaven cry " Where ? " The cherubim and
seraphim before the throne of God cry "Where?" All
creation is in agony. God Himself in astonishment asks
*' Is there none to save ? "
Then from the throne of God Himself a voice, majestic
and sublime, full of tenderest compassion for undone man,
makes answer : " Lo, I come. I delight to do Thy will, O
God." And " He who knew no sin was made sin in our
stead." Surely He hath borne our griefs and carried our
sorrows. . . He was wounded for our transgressions, He
was bruised for our iniquities ; the chastisement of our peace
was upon Him ; and with His stripes we are healed.
The Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all. He was
numbered with the transgressors ; and He bare the sin of
many, and m.ade intercession tor the transgressors."
Now that God's own son, infinite in purity, in holiness,
and in obedience— an obedience even unto death — hath made
full satisfaction for man's offence, man, because of the atone-
ment which Christ has made, the righteousness which He
has wrought out, and the perfect obedience which He has
rendered, may, once more, stand justified before God. The
faith and obedience required of old are made once more
possible, and " God can thus both be just, and the justifier
of him that believeth on Jesus,"
When man listened to the tempter and trangressed the
law of God written on the tablets of his heart, Hope died,
Peace tremblingly departed, Sin and Sorrow seized man's
mind and heart, and Death snatched up the sceptre Life laid
down. Despair and gloom hung o'er all creation like a
4 A CREATURE UNKNOWN TO NATURAL 8CIENCK.
funeral pall. Man was driven from his paradise to till the
ground accursed for his sake, his only expectation grief, and
toil, and death. •• Sorrow may endure for a night but joy
cometh in the morning." The shadow of death and the gloom
of the grave precede the resurrection morn. " The darkest
hour is just before the dawn." And through the darkness
and despair of a Paradise now lost there gleams a ray of
mercy, the earnest of the brightness and the glory of a
Paradise to be regained — a promise that the woman's seed
should bruise the serpent's head.
In the promise, ** In thee shall all the kingdoms of the
earth be blessed," the patriarchs beheld the twilight of the
dawning day of truth and righteousness. The glory of the
morning lit up our sin-cursed world as Moses in prophetic
rapture exclaimed, ** A prophet shall the Lord your God
raise up unto you of your brethren like unto me ; him shall
ye hear in all things whatsoever he shall say unto you."
While seers prophesied and poets sang, the brightness and
the beauty grew, and reached the full effulgence of the noon-
tide glory as over Bethlehem's plains the angels sang, '* Glory
to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward
men." '* In the fulness of time God sent forth His Son, born
of a woman, made under the law, to redeem His promise
made at Eden's gate."
God's promises are not like man's — they never fail. They
may seem long in the redeeming, but they are redeemed.
" Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not
pass away " is the declaration of Him who cannot lie ; and
the testimony of the ages is that the word of the Lord stand -
eth sure.
By His perfect obedience and His matchless life, Christ vin-
dicated the righteousness of the law, proving it holy, just and
good. By His death on Calvary, He satisfied divine justice,
and opened up to dead and undone man the way to holiness
and everlasting life, and hearkening to His gracious words,
and copying His loving deeds, we may learn to walk therein.
But man, *' dead in trespasses and in sins," is spiritually
blind. The eyes of his understanding are darkened that he
cannot see Him who is the '• Way." His ears are stopped
A TREATURE UNKNOWN TO NATURAL SCIENCE. 5
that he cannot hear the loving entreaty, " Turn ye ! Turn ye !
Why will ye die ?" His rebellious heart and perverse, stub-
born will yield no response to the gracious invitation, " Come
now, and let us reason together : though your sins be as
scarlet, tl^ey shall be as white as snow ; though they be red like
crimson, they shall be as wool." "The carnal mind ot the
natural man is enmity against God, It is not subject to the
law of God, neither indeed can be." He who died that we
might live in Him, sadly cries, " Ye will not come to Me
that ye might have life." " It is expedient for you that I go
away." . . ' '
Having finished the work He came to do — having satisfied
divine justice, and made it possible for the sinner to be recon-
ciled to God — He ascended to heaven and sent the Holy
Spirit, the Comforter, to strive with man, '• to convince the
world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment to come,"
— to open the eyes of man's darkened understanding — to un-
stop his deaf ears — to enlighten his mind in the knowledge of
Christ, and so free it from captivity to the law of sin and
death — to take away the hard and stony heart of unbelief,
and give him a heart of flesh with new aspirations and holy
desires — to renew the whole man after the image of God by
enabling him to believe in Christ, the Mediator of the new
covenant, for " If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature."
Here, then, is a creature unknown to Natural Science — a
member of a kingdom quite distinct from the three kingdoms of
nature— a member of the kingdom of God's dear Son. The
gracious Spirit of the Living God dwelt with and sustained the
holy ones of old. He rejoiced the soul of saintly Enoch while
he '• walked with God" — strengthened righteous Noah while
he preached repentance to the world before the flood — led
Abram from his home and kindred into the land his seed
should inherit — preservedjoseph guiltless in Pharaoh's wicked
court — walked with Moses in the desert and through the
depthsof the sea — stoodby Daniel in the den of lions — shielded
the Hebrew children in the fiery furnace — and i-reathed divine
inspiration into seers' prophecy and poets' song. But it was
not till the day of Pentecost that He came in all His power
and fulness — that He was " poured out upon all flesh."
6 A CREATURE UNKNOWN TO NATURAL SCIENCE.
Under the Old dispensation the knowledf^e of redemption
through Christ was confined to one "peculiar people." Under
the New dispensation the " glad tidings of great joy " were to
b« proclaimed to all mankind. Isaiah, with proplietic vision,
saw this day, and in holy rapture cried, " The people that
walked in darkness have seen a great light ; they that dwell
in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light
shined." Hereafter Christ is to be " a light to lighten the
Gentiles," as well as " the glory of God's people Israel."
Under the dispensation of Works, the church of God relied
on daily sacrifices, rites and ceremonies for the convincing
men of sin, converting them from the error of their ways, and
" building them up in holiness and comfort, through faith unto
salvation." Under the dispensation of Grace, she relies
on the preaching of "Christ and Him crucified," and the con-
tact and influence of living man with man.
Life manifests, develops and perpetuates itself b}^ action.
Without action, muscle shrinks, mind decays, and energy and
life give place to debility and death. The same laws that
govern the material govern also the spiritual. The " new
creature in Christ " is commanded to " grow in grace," to
" go from strength to strength," to " go on, even unto perfec-
tion." The babe gradually attains the stature and strength
of manhood or womanhood by exercising the little strength it
possesses. So spiritual babes attain to the full stature of
men and women in Christ by using, in faith, the grace and
strength already given. Without this exercise, the spiritua
man, like the natural, must become dwarfed. Where there
is no action, and no desire for action, it may well be doubted
whether life really exists. Every man who has himself be-
lieved in Christ and the redemption purchased by Him,
learned to love the living God who first loved us, and been
baptized with the Holy Spirit, is at once possessed with a
strong desire that others might know the blessedness of sins
forgiven by trusting in a crucified and risen Saviour. This
IS THE NEVER-FAILING TEST OF TRUE DISCIPLESHIP, — OF FIND-
ING Christ and being found in Him.
The disciples possessed with this desire, having been bap-
tized with the Holy Ghost and endued with power from on
, , A CRBATURE UNKNOWN TO NATURAL SCIENCE. 7
high, in obedience to the divine command, went ** into all the
world, preaching the Gospel," resting on the Master's pro-
mise, " Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the
world."
It was this desire, that, in these last days, sent a Judson,
a Carey, and a Duff to India ; a Williams, and the Gordons
to the isles of the sea ; a Moffatt and a Livingstone to South
Africa, a Morrison to China, a Mackay to Formosa, a Gordon
to the Soudan, and a McDougall to our own North-West. In
obedience to this desire and the divine commanci, forty-three
missionaries, men and women, went from Toronto alone
during the year 1888 to labor in heathen lands for the salva-
tion of souls. From every Christian country the soldiers of
the Cross are going forth, and the cry is still for more. From
every heathen land and every pagan isle the cry comes waft-
ed on the breeze, '* Come over and help us." The harvest
truly is plenteous, but the laborers are few. Yet the results
are most encouraging. Japan will soon be no more a heathen
nation ; China is opening wide her gates ; India is ripe for
the Gospel reapers, as is evidenced by the fact that from 1871
till 1881 the Protestant Christians in India increased one hun-
dred per cent.; from 1881 till the present time they have in-
creased four hundred per cent. In other, words, where there
was one Protestant Christian in India twenty-five years ago,
there are forty thousand to-day. Within a single generation
the Sandwich Islands were Christianized ; literally " a nation
born in a day." Fifty years ago the Fijians .were heathen
cannibals, yet from the Fiji islands 1200 church steeples point
the way to heaven to-day.
What great reason for gratitude to God for His blessing
on their work have the Christian women who have so warmly
espoused and so zealously promoted the cause of Foreign
Missions. The gratifying result is largely due to woman's
energy, woman's teaching, and woman's prayers. May God
bless and prosper you in your work of faith and labor of love.
Everywhere God works by means. Man is the instru-
ment He has chosen for converting men from sm and leading
them to Himself through Christ the Way. We cannot all go
to heathen lands, but we can and should work for Christ and
8 A CREATURE UNKNOWN TO NATURAL SCIENCE,
humanity at home. "The World for Christ" should be
our motto. When on earth He went about doing good, and
that continually, and the apostle declares " He set us an ex-
ample that we should follow in His steps." We who have
named the name of Christ, who have become new creatures
in Christ Jesus, should not only depart from iniquity and, by
the grace of God, live blameless lives, but with gentle, faith-
ful, choice words fitly spoken, "beseech sinners in Christ's
stead " — constrain them with loving Christ-like deeds to be
reconciled to God, trusting no more in their own righteous-
ness which is of the law, but in that " which is of God bv
faith,"
There are only tivo ways by which we can influence our
fellow-men : Word and Deed, or Precept and Example.
Never while it exists will our world cease to feel the in-
fluence of those burning words with which Patrick Henry
closed his memorable speech urging the thirteen British
Colonies to declare their independence : " / know not what
others may do, hut as for me, give me liberty or give me death ''
The moral effect of that grand, wild, desperate charge of
the Light Brigade at Balaclava will never die, till time shall
be no more. , .
Why do our soldiers* standards bear such words as
Blenheim, Waterloo, Balaclava, Sebastopol, Tel-el-kebir and
Batoche ? Is it not that looking on these they may remem-
ber the brave deeds of brave men and from their example
learn to do and to dare ?
You may say that these words and deeds remind us ot the
influence of great men only. To some extent this may be
so, but as great men are few, let me give you some illustra-
tions of the influence for good that lies in the words and
deeds of the low and humble.
I. The Influence of Words.
In a long by-gone age, in a far-away clime, a little maid
was taken prisoner of war and carried away a captive and a
slave into the land of the invaders, where she waited on the
wife of the victorious general. " He was a great man with
his master and honorable. He was also a mighty man in
A CREATURE UNKNOWN TO NATURAL SCIENCE. ^
valor, but he was a leper." Despite her bondage the little
maid's heart was filled with sympathy and love for her lord
and master. Though living in Old Testament times when
people were taught to hate their enemies, she exemplified in
her own life the New Testament law afterwards uttered by
the Master Himself: •' Love your enemies, bless them that
curse you, do good to them that hate you and pray for them
which despitefully use you and persecute you." And one
day in the fulness of her heart she exclaimed : '* Would God
my lord were with the prophet that is in Samaria ! for he
would recover him of his leprosy."
And one went in and told his lord, sayinpj : " Thus and
thus said the maid that is of the land of Israel." Her words
were believed. Her master went to the prophet in Samaria,
and was healed, not in body only, but in soul, and cried :
" Behold, now I know that there is no God in all the earth
but in Israel. I will henceforth offer neither burnt offering
nor sacrifice unto other gods, but unto the Lord."
Ah, what an influence for good lies in the words of the
low and humble, and how they react upon those who utter
them, and fill their lives both here and hereafter with bless-
ing. The loving words of this little captive maid have been
preserved and told as a memorial of her for thousands of
years, and will be to the latest generation. More about her
we are not told, but God's word gives the assurance that in
the great hereafter she shall shine as the brightness of the
firmament for ever and ever.
In one of our Ontario counties a certain commercial
traveller bitterly opposed the passing of the Scott Act. His
influence was great, for his business had made him an excel-
lent judge of human nature. But one day a lady called at
his home, and while talking to his wife about her husband's
opposition to the Act, remarked, '* If he doesn't change he'll
find himself in hell some day." His Httle daughter heard the
words, and pondered over them. She was *' papa's darling."
And that night when he came home she climbed upon his
knee, put her soft, loving, baby arms about his neck, and
looking straight in his eyes, said, " Papa, are you going ta
hell ? Mrs. So-and-so says you are ; and if you are going ta
hell, papa, I'm going too ; I'm going wherever you go."
10 A CKBATUKE UNKNOWN TO NATURAL SCIENCE.
The child's words went like a dagger to his heart. He
burst into tears and rushed from the house. The struggle
was a bitter one, but that night that man learned the mean-
ing of the words, " If any man be in Christ he is a new
creature." That nigiit a soul dead in trespasses and in sins
was quickened. That night a soul was born into the king-
dom of Gods dear Son. He ceased his opposition to the
Scott Act, resigned his situation as commercial traveller, and
began in earnest to prepare for the active work of the minis-
try. For several summers he labored faithfully, efficiently,
and with remarkable success in our home mission field, and
is to-day pastor of a congregation in the city of Toronto, and
the influence of that little child's words will never cease while
eternity endures.
In June, 1868, I was sailing from St. John, N.B., to Port-
land, Maine. I was very ill. I had been ordered home — to die.
On the steamer an old gentleman, with hair and beard like
the driven snow — one who had long passed the allotted age
of man — came and talked with me kindly, lovingly. As he
was leaving me he said, ** Your prospects seem poor for this
world, what are they for the next ? " Up to that time I had
never taken one anxious thought about the future, but that
question set me thinking, and from it sprang a faith that has
sustained me through trials and sufferings such as few of the
sons of men are called on to endure. A simple question it
was. but fraught with great consequences to me, and — who
knows — perhaps through me to others also. That old man
is in heaven long ago, and though he never knew on earth
what his words were to me, yet he will know, and his heart
will be gladder throughout eternity, and his crown brighter,
for having spoken as he did.
How important it is that we should embrace and improve
the opportunities God gives us. How many gemless crowns
there will be in heaven, how many lost souls in hell, because
we have let opportunities pass unnoticed, or shrunk from im-
proving them, deeming the time inopportune, or we ourselves
unfit, excusing ourselves like Moses, saymg : " O Lord, I am
not loquent . . but I am slow of speech and of a slow
tongae ? " " He that observeth the wind shall not sow ; and
A CREATURE UNKNOWN TO NATURAL SCIENCE. H
he that regardeth the clouds shall not reap. In the morn-
ing sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine
hand : for thou knowest not whether shall prosper either this
or that, or whether they both shall be alike good." '• Blessed
are ye that sow beside all waters," said the Prophet Isaiah.
What does th^t mean ? Let me illustrate its meaning.
One very stormy night, at a prayer meeting in his own
church, which was attended by only four persons — himself,
his son, the sexton, and one old woman — the late Dr. Cooke,
of Belfast, read the vStory of the crucifixion and spoke thereon
with wonderful eloquence and power. On the way home his
son asked him why he did not reserve such a grand discourse
for the Sabbath when he would have a crowded house. Dr.
Cooke replied, " I wanted to reach that old woman. I know
she is a hardened sinner, and I prayed God for grace and
power to save her, if He so willed." That night the old
woman became '•• a new creature " in Christ Jesus. That is
what is meant by " Sowing beside all waters." Open thy
mouth as God may give thee opportunity, but " be wise as
serpents." Let thy words be ** choice words fitly spoken."
*' Let your speech be alway with grace seasoned with salt.''
Do thy duty in this respect, wisely and well, as thou knowest
how, and leave the result with God.
II. The Influence of Deeds.
" Good words are good, but good deeds are better."
*' Example teaches better than precept." In this " wide,
wide world " there is no one without influence. I care not
how poor, how weak, how insignificant they are, they wield
an influence, and that influence may be all the greater because
of their poverty, weakness, and insignificance. Remember
" God hath chosen the weak things of this world to confound
the things that are mighty, and the things that are not to
bring to naught the things that are." Your own observation
must have taught you this truth—/? is not the father, hut tJie
baby that rules the home. St. Paul was right when he said,
" When I am weak, then am I strong.''
Let me give a few illustrations of the power that lies in
the example of the poor and lowly — of the influence they
wield over their fellow-beings by their deeds.
12 A CREATURE UNKNOV.'N TO NATURAL SCIENCE.
John Pounds was only a poor cobbler who undertook to
help a little lame nephew learn something useful while he
himself worked at his last. Seeing other neglected children
on the street, he thought while teaching one he could teach
more. By giving food and clothing from his scanty earnings
he bribed one after another to enter his little shop and be-
come his pupils. Unaided, John Pounds rescued 500 street
arabs from a prospective life of crime and misery and made
them useful, intelligent, moral members of society. And in
the British islands more than 100,000 children are to-day be-
ing fed and clothed and taught in ragged schools, as the result
of the influence of John Pounds' example.
June 6th, 1844, George Williams and a fellow employee
held the first meeting of the Y M. C. A., in his room in the
third story of the warehouse where he was employed. To-day
that association has nearly 4,000 branches, with a member-
ship of more than 3,000,000.
A little more than one hundred years ago, Robert Raikes
opened a Sabbath school, and, because of his example, 17,-
000,000 scholars and 2,000,000 teachers meet each Sabbath
day in the Sabbath schools of Protestant Christendom to
study the same lesson selected from God's Word.
Can any mind but that of the Infinite measure the results
of the influence of those three humble men — John Pounds,
George Williams, and Robert Raikes? Millions of souls who
otherwise must have lifted up their eyes in hell ha -3 been,
and tens of millions will yet be, saved by their influe..ce, and
go to swell the songs of the redeemed in the Zion above.
It is not necessary to have a great name to do great
deeds. Grace Darling was unknown till she dashed out of
the light-house, launched the life-boat during a storm, and
rescued a shipwrecked crew. Florence Nightingale's name
was not a household word wherever the English language is
spoken until she made it such by her self sacrificing devotion
10 .he wounded in the Crimea. Who, outside of Hamilton,
Ont., had ever heard of Aggie Nicholson before her brave
heart, her woman's sympathy and self- forget fulness, amid the
ruin, agony and death of a St. George railway disaster, had
made her a heroine ? Do not think it is necessary to have
A CREATURE UNKNOWN TO NATURAL SCIENCE. 13
a great name to do great deeds. Do not think that you must
have great opportunities to bring about great results.
Great opportunities come to few. They may never come
to you. If you are waiting for a great opportunity, the prob-
ability is that you will not be able to improve it should it come
— that you will never accomplish anything. Had John Pounds
and Robert Raikes waited for great opportunities, they would
never have been heard of, and ragged schools and Sabbath
schools might still be things of the future. Like others who
have done great things they never thought of doing them.
They simply did with their might what they found to do —the
daily duties to God and man that presented themselves ; and
without being aware of it, became truly great, accomplished
great deeds, and exerted a mighty influence for good on the
human r^ce.
God never does for man what man can do for himself —
what his fellow-man can do for him. He never tills the soil
nor sows the seed. Man can do that. And only when man
has prepared the soil and cast in the seed can he, in faith,
look to God for the harvest.
So when man has, by Word and Deed, by Precept and
Example, broken up the fallow ground of man's carnal mind
and hard heart, and sown ther i the good seed of Christ's
kingdom, then, and then only, is he justified in expectmg
God's blessing on the soul he fain would save. Nay, he is
then in duty bound to ask God's blessing on his work, for
though " Paul may plant and Apollos water," 'tis " God alone
■can give the increase." He should pray the Holy Spirit to
water the seed that has been sown with the dews of divine
grace, that it may spri.ig up and bring forth fruit— to strive
with the " dead in trespasses and in sins," that he may be
convinced of sin and converted from the error of his ways —
to brood over him that he may be quickened and '• walk in
newness of life," — to take the things of Christ and show them
unto Him — to reveal unto him *' Christ crucified, to the Jews
a stumbling block and to the Greeks foolishness, but unto
them that are called, both Jews and Greeks, the power of God
and the wisdom of God."
And when ye pray, pray in faith. " What things soever
14 A CREATURE UNKNOWN TO NATURAL SCIENCE.
ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye
shall have them." These are Christ's own words. " And
this," said St. John, " is the' confidence that we have in Him,
that if we ask anything according to His will, He heareth us.
And if we know that He hear us, whatsoever we ask, we
know that we have the petitions that we desired of Him."
What, then, is the will of God with regard to man ?
This is the will of God, even our sanctification, thai we
may inherit eternal life.
Therefore, when we pray for God's blessing on the work
we have done, or endeavoured to do, for Christ and humanity,
let us ask in faith, brUeving that our requests will be granted
because they are in accordance with His will. God is ever
willing to hear the cry of a penitent sinner, or a prayer ot
faith on his behalf, even though he be the chief of sinners.
*♦ He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for
us all, how shall He not with Him also freely give us all
things."
During the dark ages there was a long and animated '
discussion as to what were the dimensions of the true cross,
— what the length of the cross-beam, what the length of the
upright. There is an old legend which would have settled ■
the point in dispute, had they only succeeded in unearthing '
it. The legend says that the cross-beam reached from the
tips of the fingers of God's right hand, to the tips of the ,
fingers of His left — that is, from the extreme limit of the
illimitable universe, on the one hand, to its extreme limit on
the other ; while the upright reached from the very lowest
possible depths of human degradation and sin, up to the very
heart of that God who is love.
There are none so low down that God cannot save them :
there are none so wicked that He is not willing. None need
despair, and we need despair of none. Therefore, '* work
while it is called the day, for the night cometh when no man
can work." Strive by Word and Deed, by Precept and
Example, to influence your fellow-beings for good and bring
them to Christ, remembering that " If any man be in Christ
he is a new creature." And pray for the divine blessing to
rest on your work ; and of this be assured, that you will not
A CREATURE UNKNOWN TO NATURAL SCIENCE.
15
lose the reward of your labor. For he who saves a soul
from death, shall not only hide a multitude of sins, but shall
himself " shine as the brightness of the firmament, and they
that turn many to righteousness as the stars, for ever and
ever." Then, whatsoever thy hand findeth to do for Christ
and humanity, do with all thy might ; but while you work, oh,
do not forget to pray.