the object of the meeting, were confessedly echoes of an article replete with the truest taste, the noblest eloquence, and the most ardent patriotism, which appeared in the Witness on the previous day.

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CHAPTER XVI.

EDUCATION.

HITHERTO the course of the ecclesiastical leaders of the Free Church, and the course of the editor of the Witness, had run nearly parallel. Slight variations in policy and views, had, indeed, occasionally manifested themselves, but no serious disagreement was yet apparent. A crisis had, however, now arrived, when considerable discrepancy of opinion and policy was about to disclose itself. The severe labours, literary, ecclesiastical, and scientific, undergone by Hugh Miller during the first four years of the existence of the Witness, compelled him to forego all literary effort during the greater part of 1845 and 1846. Thus necessarily precluded from forming any very fixed views of what the church was doing, on returning in renovated health, early in January, 1847, to his editorial duties, he found her on the eve of that great educational controversy in which he was called to combat the church's entire ecclesiastical artillery, a combat which did not cease until, from his own solitary but well-appointed battery, he silenced its every gun.

No sooner had Hugh Miller returned to Edinburgh, than Dr. Chalmers, with his wonted kindness, paid him a visit of congratulation on his convalescence, and in a long and serious conversation, urged the importance of maintaining the Witness in honest independency, uninfluenced by cliques and parties, secular or ecclesiastical. At this interview the prospects of the Free Church educational scheme were briefly discussed. Dr. Chalmers was struck with the views of Hugh Miller, and expressed his desire to see the educational question brought at once to the columns of the Witness, and probed to the bottom. The opportunity for this discussion soon presented itself. The scheme of privycouncil grants for educational purposes was announced by government. Dr. Candlish had got the church committed to a refusal of all participation of those grants, as inconsistent with the principles of the Free Church.

So recently disentangled from the meshes of statecraft, like the bird escaped from the snare of the fowler, it was not wonderful, they should have been chary of entering anew into friendly relations with Erastian politicians. Had this dissatisfaction based itself on legitimate grounds, and expressed itself in logical forms, even if not able to hold its own against the powerful antagonist it encountered in the Witness, it would, at least, have been more worthy of respect. As it was,

the "vicious Cameronianism," as Hugh Miller styled the sentiment with which he had to contend, made but a sorry figure in conflict with the strong common sense of the editor of the Witness. In supporting his views of the propriety of accepting the privy-council grants, Hugh Miller employed successively every arrow in his intellectual quiver, turning at will from the gravest statement to the gayest satire. Now by a calm historical narrative, now by a piece of powerful ratiocination, anon by the liveliest wit and the broadest humour does he overthrow the positions of his antagonists. Grave and reverend seigniors, with whom wit was wickedness, were startled from their propriety, by finding themselves occasionally treated in the columns of the Witness, much after the manner they might have expected to have been treated in the columns of Punch.

As exhibiting the playful style in which he thus sometimes clothed important ideas, and the adroitness with which he could avail himself of the accidents of the hour for the illustration of permanent principles, this bit of exquisite banter will suffice. To a brother editor of opposite opinions on the education question, and somewhat alarmed at the range and freedom of illustration Hugh Miller brought to its discussions, he thus addresses himself:

"What sort of teaching, then, we ask our cotemporary, does he expect for ten, fifteen, or even twenty pounds per annum! He re

members, we daresay, the story of Betty the cook-maid and her mistress. Betty, an old and faithful servant, on one day informing her mistress that she purposed getting married, had got a present of five pounds from her; and straightway taking her leave, she returned a morning or two after, to show the good lady her husband. The husband was little, and old, and blear-eyed, and lame of a foot, and did not take the mistress's fancy at all. 'Betty,' she said, 'is that the man you have got?' 'Oh! Mem,' exclaimed Betty, imploringly, 'Oh! Mem, what could we expect for five pounds?' Our respected cotemporary, who strangely enough accuses us of indulging in 'a variety of facetic' (we!—the sober-eyed!-the grave-featured!—the demure!-we!)-our cotemporary, we say, delights in only grave stories; and we are quite sure he will luxuriate on this one, for the sake, not only of its intrinsic properness and sobriety, but also for that of the high-toned moral which it bears. We ask him imploringly, in the very vein of Betty-'Oh! Mem, what can we expect for fifteen pounds!' Cheap articles are not always great bargains,—a fact of which the Free Church has already had some little experience, and regarding which, sheerly for the sake of warning in this matter, we beg leave to submit to our respected cotemporary a brief snatch of historic narrative, founded on personal observation.

"We travelled, about a twelvemonth since, through a remote part of the country, and, in the course of a single morning, passed by two Free Churches erected after the Edinburgh model. As the first came full in view, at the distance of several miles, it presented to our wondering eyes an appearance which we could not at all understand. It was the subject, evidently, of some strange mysterious operation. There were about fifty adventurous Free Churchmen clustered upon the roof, like so many triumphant Lilliputians on the prostrate Gulliver, or a crew of Dutch Greenlandmen engaged in flaying a whale,— while about a hundred more, heaving upon good ropes, or tugging at levers, swarmed thick in the area below. We could hear, as we approached, the stout 'yo heave o',' translated into Gaelic, echoing clear through the calm morning air; and by and by ascertained that the work on hand was neither more nor less than the skinning of a kirk. And hard work it was. A ponderous integument of felt and tar played flap, flap, flap, upon the sarking, as the tugging moiety of the party