In my last chapter I brought together two celebrations—one in honour of John Bunyan, the other in honour of Richard Baxter. Another celebration now claims attention, not of an English Nonconformist, but of a Protestant Reformer, whose fame covers the world—Martin Luther. English commemorations of his character and work were held late in 1875 and early in 1876.

Before I mention any particulars respecting the Luther celebration, I repeat what I have said elsewhere:

“There is no other man of a similar order whose fame touches so many topographical points, and sweeps over so wide a surface. The local reminiscences of Shakespeare and Milton, even taken together, are few, and cluster round a metropolis, a provincial town, and two or three villages. But how many cities, castles, and houses there are in Germany scattered far and wide which may be said to have Martin Luther for their presiding genius! Guide-books call attention to some spot where he went, some fortress or tenement which gave him shelter, some church in which he preached, some locality which his name has made famous; and there are scenes and houses unmentioned in guide-books, over which lingers the spell of his memory. One comes across mementoes of Charles V. in divers directions; but even they are fewer, less interesting, and less honoured than those of the monk who gave the emperor so much anxiety, and who by his devotion, and energy accomplished the reformation of the Teutonic Church. Certainly no king, no kaiser, can vie with him as to the place he occupies in the thoughts of his own people, and indeed of the whole Christian world.” [252]

Washington Irving concludes his essay on “Shakespeare and Stratford-on-Avon,” by remarking it would have cheered “the spirit of the youthful bard that his name should become the glory of his birthplace, that his ashes should be guarded as a most precious treasure, and that its lessening spire, on which his eyes were fixed in tearful contemplation, should one day become the beacon towering amidst the gentle landscape to guide the literary pilgrim of every nation to his tomb.”

It is no depreciation of Shakespeare’s genius to say that above his aspirations after fame, whatever they might be, rose the aims and desires of Luther—a man absorbed in zeal for the salvation of souls, and for the glory of his Saviour; but it would have filled him with wonder, could he have foreseen the place he was to occupy in the history of the world, and how the double tower of the Stadt Kirche, in which he preached, would become a beacon to guide tens of thousands from both hemispheres to the Augustinian monastery, where he lived, and to the Schloss Kirche, where he lies buried.

The Luther Commemoration in England was enthusiastic.

Soon after I left Kensington an immense assembly gathered in Exeter Hall, to take up points in Luther’s character and work. If I remember rightly, I dwelt on that occasion at some length on his domestic life, often assailed by his opponents, but held in admiration by Protestants all over the world. In lectures and addresses, delivered at Norwich, Peterborough, Bedford, and elsewhere, I dwelt on his manifold excellences and achievements, at Leipzig, at Worms, in the Wartburg, and his Wittenberg home. My remarks accorded with those I have now introduced.

After the close of my pastorate in Kensington, Ealing became my home. The professorships at New College were continued. Sundays were spent in preaching the Gospel. Literary studies were pursued to a larger extent than they had been when pastoral duty claimed chief attention.

In 1876 I was grieved by the death of Lady Augusta Stanley, for she manifested towards me kindness which could not fail to inspire my warmest gratitude. I never knew any other person who had so much dignity and sweetness of demeanour, one who, with many-sided sympathy, could make her numerous guests feel how sincere were her friendly demonstrations. It often surprised me, as it did others, how she paid marked attention to all her guests, however numerous they might be. Her tact was admirable. Nobody could leave the Deanery with the idea of having been neglected.

Her “At Homes” were extraordinarily popular, for every one was sure of meeting with notabilities of Church and State, literature and science. Her husband was in full sympathy with her in all these respects.

She was intimately acquainted with foreign celebrities, and her conversation about them was of much interest. She and her mother, Lady Elgin, spent some days in Lamartine’s house at Paris, when violent mobs, during the Revolution, assembled in front of the residence. The President behaved bravely, but expressed fear lest any insult should be offered to English ladies under his roof. Mother and daughter, if I remember right, had been offered refuge by the President when the utmost peril filled the French capital. Lady Augusta related interesting anecdotes of Lamartine; and I gathered that he habitually indicated no small confidence in himself, feeling that he was the greatest man in France, as no doubt, at the time, he really was.

Her Ladyship and the Dean were well acquainted with M. Guizot, and gave interesting accounts of that distinguished statesman, and of his habits and studies after retirement from public life. I happened once, when talking of Earl Russell, to make the remark, that I had heard of his cold manner to political acquaintances. Her countenance lighted up, and she spoke with enthusiasm of what he was in the bosom of his family, and the circle of intimate friends. Bishop Thirlwall was a great favourite with her, and she related interesting anecdotes of that distinguished man, indicating a warm heart, in union with a keen intellect.

Lady Augusta’s visit to St. Petersburg with the Dean, at the marriage of the Duke of Edinburgh, proved too much for her strength, and at Paris in the following autumn serious illness set in. From time to time amendment and relapse excited hope and fear, until all prospect of recovery vanished. She spoke of friends, sent kind messages, and talked calmly and with humble confidence of the other world, saying, “Think of me as near, only in another room. ‘In my Father’s house are many mansions.’” I had a touching note from the Dean asking me to be a pall-bearer at the funeral. All chosen for that office indicated causes, classes, and places in which she felt an interest. Religion, literature, and philanthropy, the neighbourhood in which she lived, and Scotland—each had a representative.

The assembly of mourners in the Jerusalem Chamber; the spectacle in the Abbey; the procession up the nave whilst the Queen occupied a little gallery not far from the western door; the calm submission of the bereaved husband, as he sat by the coffin; the solemn entrance into Henry VII.’s Chapel; the ray of sunlight falling on the coffin as it sank into the vault; and especially the words, “I heard a voice from Heaven,” sung by choristers invisible at the moment, as if music came from the Upper Temple—these incidents can never be forgotten.

It was by royal command that this lady, descended from the royal Bruce, was buried in a chapel reserved for royal persons; and immediately after the interment wreaths from the Queen and her children were strewn over the grave. The three benedictions—the Mosaic, the Pauline, and the Ecclesiastical—which the deceased loved to hear were pronounced, at the close of the service, by the Dean from a desk in the nave. She had said to him, “Think of me as you repeat the holy words.” He did, when she was gone as when she was living.

The Dean sometimes referred to his visit to St. Petersburg in company with her ladyship, and spoke of his having before him, as he tied the nuptial knot on that memorable occasion, no less than four princes, each of whom was expectant of a crown—the Prince of Wales, the Crown Prince of Prussia, the Crown Prince of the Netherlands, and the Czarevitch; and he also mentioned this circumstance—that after the wedding party had passed in state through a magnificent hall, where no provision for a banquet could be seen, within an hour and a half they sat down to a feast of sumptuous splendour, reminding him of Belshazzar’s, not in point of excess, but in point of regal display. The fact was, the side-tables had been concealed behind screens and drapery. The middle one had in that space of time been fixed and adorned.

I may here mention that one day, during a visit to the Deanery, I had much conversation with Miss Stanley, the Dean’s sister, an agreeable companion, who freely indulged in some common recollections of dear old Norwich, and some friends whom we had both known. She told me a great deal about her good father, the Bishop, dwelling with admiration upon his exceedingly simple habits, and his determination never to give at the Palace grand dinners, but only such as combined hospitality with Christian unostentation.

Two or three days previous to Lady Augusta’s funeral, I breakfasted at Lambeth, when Archbishop Tait, amongst other things, spoke of his desire for some union with Protestant Dissenters as far as it was possible; and this led to proceedings which, as they have not been reported in any fulness, may be recorded here.

It was a delicate question who should first move in the matter. The Archbishop wished to invite brethren to Lambeth, but what reason was to be assigned for taking such a step? At length it was arranged that some communication should be made to him, indicative of a disposition on the part of Nonconformists to confer with Episcopalian brethren. On such a ground the Archbishop considered he might bring together bishops, ready to join in a conference. I undertook to prepare a letter and get it signed, so that Dr. Tait might feel he had sure footing for what might follow. It was based on a recognition of pleasure felt by Nonconformists, in consequence of passages in his recent charges touching religious union. The letter went on to express willingness to meet brethren for consultation respecting co-operation in religious service so far as it might be possible and wise. It was signed by well-known ministers, and was acknowledged by the Archbishop under the term of “memorial,” an expression which, if I remember rightly, had not been employed by us.

Four Nonconformist ministers accordingly went down to Lambeth to converse on the subject. Previous to this interview, it was my conviction that to discuss the subject of union by itself was by no means desirable, as it might raise questions which would defeat the end in view. In harmony with this, the following opinion was expressed by a friendly prelate:—“Such a neutral subject as the progress of irreligious thought, would do well as a basis for a friendly meeting.”

In a note received from the Archbishop before we met, he said, “I beg leave to assure you that all the bishops whom I have consulted agree in the extreme importance of this movement, and in an earnest desire that by proper preliminary arrangements your proposal for a conference may be brought to a satisfactory result.” The proposal for a conference, I think, did not originate with me, though I quite approved of it, and was glad the Archbishop had kindly arranged for its being held.

I subjoin the following record, received from Lambeth, respecting a conference which the ministers named held with the Archbishop beforehand:—

“May 24th, 1876: The Archbishop of Canterbury saw the Rev. Dr. Stoughton, the Rev. Dr. Angus, the Rev. Newman Hall, and the Rev. Dr. Aveling.

“The gentlemen present having heard from the Archbishop what had passed with the bishops who met at the Ecclesiastical Commission, it was the opinion of those present that there was ample room for united efforts to stem growing infidelity and ungodliness.

“1. Therefore that a united conference as to the best means of attempting to spread the knowledge of the answers to materialistic and atheistic sophistries might be attended with very beneficial results.

“2. That such a conference might with great advantage consider the lamentable ignorance and indifference as to religion which prevails amongst masses of the community, and the best modes of meeting these evils.

“3. That such a conference might also with advantage consider what efforts are needed to rouse the classes above the artisan class to a greater appreciation of the realities of religion.

“4. That it would be desirable that at such a conference those present should come prepared to state their experience as to the difficulties to be met, and the proposed remedies. It was agreed that a day after the first week in July would be suitable for such a conference.

“The result of this was reported by the Archbishop to an informal meeting of certain bishops at the Room of the House of Lords: present, the Archbishop of York, the Bishops of London, Winchester, St. Asaph, Llandaff, Gloucester and Bristol, and Carlisle; and Monday, July 4th, at twelve noon, was fixed for our gathering.”

We assembled accordingly on July 4th, and there were present besides the Primate, the Bishops of London, Winchester, Peterborough, Gloucester, Bath and Wells, Drs. Allon, Raleigh, Punshon, Rigg, Aveling, Angus, Cumming, Robertson of Edinburgh (an old schoolmate of Dr. Tait); the Revs. J. C. Harrison, Newman Hall, Josiah Viney, and several others whom I cannot call to mind as, unfortunately, I have not kept a list.

The Archbishop presided, read the Scriptures, and offered prayer. He opened the proceedings by an appropriate address, and then requested me to give some account of the steps which had led to our meeting together. I could not help referring to some remarkable gatherings in the Jerusalem Chamber, March 1640–1, convened by Dr. Williams, at that time Bishop of Lincoln, and also Dean of Westminster, when several other dignitaries met certain Presbyterian divines. “This,” I remarked, “was done by order of the House of Lords, with a view to settling points of difference between ecclesiastical parties of that day. A scheme of comprehension was contemplated. It came to nothing, though the intercourse seems to have been pleasant, and they were hospitably entertained by the convener.” “This was the last course of all public Episcopal treatments,” said the witty Thomas Fuller, who added: “The guests may now soon put up their knives, seeing, soon after, the voider was called for, which took away all bishops’ lands.” I emphasised the fact that we had assembled for a very different purpose, not to discuss any plan of comprehension, but to see how parties, remaining ecclesiastically as we were, could, notwithstanding, unite in defence of our common faith against those who opposed it.

“We have a common cause,” it was added; “and let us aim at extending the influence of our common Christianity—this would bring us into spiritual and practical fellowship, the most enduring of all bonds.” The Bishop of Bath and Wells followed and spoke on the specific point—how we should meet doubts and difficulties in reference to religion. The Bishop of Peterborough discussed the subject generally, with great eloquence and force. The Bishops of London and Winchester made practical suggestions as to guarding Christians against scepticism, and rousing people at large from indifference and neglect. Drs. Rigg, Angus, and others, combatted infidel objections and enforced attention to the subject before us. A spirit of harmony pervaded the meeting.

We broke up the morning conference at two o’clock, and then lunched together; reassembling at three o’clock, when the Bishop of Gloucester, Dr. Punshon, and several besides, resumed the conversation. No representatives of the press were present, and no report, that I am aware of, was taken and preserved. We wished to prevent the controversial treatment of what took place. Two of those who were there, together with myself, received and complied with a request to prepare some brief statement for The Times, on the character and purpose of our meeting. Of course, the whole matter was criticised afterwards, chiefly however in private. I do not remember that it was taken up controversially in religious periodicals. To correct some misapprehensions—expressed in a Dissenting newspaper—I, at the request of an esteemed brother, wrote a short letter of explanation.

When we separated, gratification was expressed by those who were present. Some Nonconformists did not enter into the movement; others did, and that most heartily. From several Episcopalian friends we received assurances of approval and sympathy. It issued in no united action; no fresh organisation had, as far as I know, ever been intended. The purpose designed was accomplished by interchanging thought, collecting information, and encouraging one another in ministerial work.

For Archbishop Tait I had great respect and affection. He was singularly kind and conversable, without affecting any official superiority. Under his grave countenance, and habitually serious demeanour, as one who lived ever “in his Great Taskmaster’s eye,” there were veins of cheerfulness and humour in his familiar intercourse—I felt deeply, his gentle sympathy, expressed in a letter of condolence, on my dear wife’s death; and the last time we talked together, being interrupted by another person, he broke off in the opening of what seemed an amusing tale. He appreciated the relative position of Church and Dissent, better than any other dignitary I have met with. He would say that Nonconformists had their traditions, organisations, endowments, and influence, which gave them a status they were not likely to surrender by bringing over what belonged to them, into an Episcopalian organisation. A fraternal modus vivendi, he regarded as the object to be aimed at, not an absorption of Dissenting bodies into the Establishment. He, no doubt, would have preferred to see One Great Church in England, under a moderate Episcopacy; but he seemed to cherish little hope of any such object being accomplished.

On a former page allusion was made to Mr. Bagster, of Polyglot fame. In the year (1877) his venerable wife, at the age of 100 within a few hours, died at Old Windsor; and her accumulated years attracted the notice of Her Majesty, who honoured her with a visit just before her decease. I called at the cottage in which she expired, after the royal visitor had been there, and there heard the particulars of the interview. Her Majesty I was informed, brought with her the Princess Beatrice; and, on their entrance into the bedroom, where the old lady was lying, she at once expressed her gratitude for the signal favour bestowed by her Sovereign, saying that “she was looking forward to her own speedy dismissal to the immediate presence of the Saviour, where she hoped hereafter to meet Her Majesty.” Pleasant conversation followed, in which Mrs. B., at the Queen’s request, related her memories of George III., Queen Charlotte, and the Royal Family, as they used to walk on the Castle terrace, in the presence of a large number of loyal spectators. The Queen manifested interest in particulars respecting the good old lady, related by her daughter; and in consequence of the report she gave on her return home, Prince Leopold, as I was told soon afterwards, paid a visit to Old Windsor, and wished for a rehearsal of what had been communicated by his Royal Mother. Repeated gracious inquiries from the Castle followed. At the funeral service a note was put into my hands, written by the Duchess of Roxburgh to Miss Bagster, tenderly touching on that lady’s sorrow, for her late bereavement; and concluding with the words: “The Queen begs you to convey to all the members of your venerable mother’s family, the assurance of Her Majesty’s condolence.” This note was read to the mourners.

In 1877 I made two pilgrimages which left memorable impressions. All my life I have been an enthusiastic shrine-seeker, loving to trace out spots sanctified by footsteps of heroic and holy men. I heartily adopt the words of Dr. Martineau, “No material interests, no common welfare, can so bind a community together, and make it strong of heart, as a history of rights maintained and virtues uncorrupted and freedom won; and one legend of conscience is worth more to a country than hidden gold and fertile plains.”At different periods I have visited the birthplaces of Shakespeare and of Raleigh, of Cromwell and of Wesley; the homes of Knox, Hampden, Milton, Baxter, and Howard; the haunts of Johnson, Goldsmith, Watts, and Cowper; the graves of Bunyan, Burns, Scott, and Chalmers have all had attractions for me.

The pilgrimages I made in 1877 were the following:—

The first to the Vosges district in France, searching for Ban de la Roche, the scene of Oberlin’s labours, and the resting place of his remains. [268] From Strassburg my daughter and I went to Mutzig, situated amidst a theatre of red sandstone hills mantled with woods and vineyards. Then from Mutzig we proceeded to Fouday, through valley after valley, if not exactly picturesque, yet really pictorial, and finally approached the parish of the model pastor. In the heart of the village of Ban de la Roche, are the church hallowed by his preaching, and the grave where he sleeps. Three broad slabs lie on the green turf, side by side, the middle one inscribed with the words, “Il fut 60 ans pÈre de ce canton.—‘La MÉmoire du juste sera en benediction.’” An iron cross bears the name “Papa Oberlin.” We were surprised to find the spot, though highly situated, so rich in beauty as summer waned; an afternoon sun warming the crisp air, and lighting up objects with varied tints. At Walderbach, a Swiss-like village, full of cottages and fruit trees, we found the parsonage house in which the good man lived and died. We were welcomed by the present clergyman’s wife, whom we had met before, without knowing her. The good lady took us over the rooms associated with her husband’s predecessor. There was the study where he worked, and the bedroom in which he slept. Some of his furniture is preserved, with a collection of toys he made for children, and a large jar full of still fragrant rose leaves, a few of which were gratefully accepted as a memento of the visit.

The other pilgrimage was in England to Broad Oak, Shropshire, where Philip Henry resided and where his son Matthew was born. It stands where the Wrexham Road is intersected by a lane leading to Whitwell Church. It is a small farmhouse, part of a larger one, with heavy beams, and a broad chimney corner, like what one sees in Anne Hathaway’s cottage near Stratford-on-Avon. When in its primitive state, it must have been spacious, for, says the famous Puritan, “I have room for twelve friends in my beds, a hundred in my barn, and a thousand in my heart.” Here he resembled “Abraham sitting at his tent door, in quest of opportunities to do good. If he met with any poor near his house, and gave them alms in money, he would, besides, bid them go to his door for relief. He was very tender and compassionate towards poor strangers, and travellers, though his candour and charity were often imposed upon by cheats and pretenders.”

The mention of Broad Oak occurs repeatedly in the Life of the father, written by his affectionate son. The latter tells of his father’s removal to Broad Oak, and the providences concerning him there, of “the rebukes he lay under at Broad Oak,” and of the last nine years of his life, in “liberty and enlargement at Broad Oak.” At a time when ministerial engagements were by no means so numerous and diversified as they are at present; when habits of home study, quiet visitation of the flock, and catechising the children, rather than preaching on public occasions, attending large meetings, and travelling to and fro along the length and breadth of the land, distinguished both town and country clergymen; when those who were connected with the Established Church, and had no restraints put upon their activity, spent what would be now considered very retired and monotonous lives; what must have been the secluded and stationary position of an ejected minister between the Restoration and the Revolution! No wonder, then, that almost every incident and effort belonging to Philip Henry’s career belonged to the farm at Broad Oak, where he lived and died, and wrote and suffered, and walked and taught, bringing up his children, and receiving his friends, and paying visits to his neighbours, under the shadow of the umbrageous trees which gave a name to his pleasant homestead.

I drove over to the house, or rather that part of it which still remains, a part of the kitchen, as I suppose, in which the good man used to preach. The people of the house showed me some relics—the pulpit cushion, and, I think, the pulpit itself, or some portion of it; also some buttons which belonged to Philip Henry’s coat.

At Whitwell is a chapel containing Philip Henry’s monument, which once stood in the parish edifice of Whitchurch.

At the end of the Whitwell epitaph are the words, “In dormitorium hic juxta positum demisit June 24, Anno Dom. MDCXCVI, Ætatis LXV.” Was it in imitation of this, that the words were introduced in Matthew Henry’s monument in Holy Trinity Church, Chester, “Confectum corpus huic dormitorio commisit 22 die Junii, 1714, Anno Ætat 52”?

Dr. Howson, Dean of Chester, who was staying with me at Crewe Hall when this visit was arranged, intended to be my companion, for he was a great admirer of the Henrys; but illness prevented him.

In 1877 I was invited by Dr. Stanley to deliver a missionary lecture in Westminster Abbey, one of a series he had arranged, in which some friends of his, not clergymen in the Establishment, took part.

In 1877 I gave a lecture in the room of the Society of Arts on the prospects and perils of modern civilisation. One of the audience was a native gentleman attached to the Chinese Embassy—a very intelligent person, speaking English well, and showing by his conversation how clearly he grasped points of the address he had just heard. It was a singular circumstance that a representative of the largest empire of the world—which not long ago counted all other nations as barbarous—should listen to a barbarian as he represented the good and evil of European civilisation.

Just before Christmas (1877) two or three days were spent at the Deanery of Westminster, and on the Sunday afternoon Dr. Stanley walked with me on the terrace of the Parliamentary Houses, where we had some interesting talk. He pointed to the palatial edifice at our back as we looked across the river, and said, “This is the palace of the nation”; turning attention to St. Thomas’ Hospital, he remarked, “That is the palace of the poor”; and next, looking towards Lambeth, he added, “There is the palace of the Church.” We discussed the state and prospects of the Establishment, and he, as a staunch advocate for its continuance, propounded schemes of reform, which, looking at the state of parties, seemed to me quite impracticable. He was filled with an idea of comprehension, if not within wide Episcopalian limits, then by a State union of different denominations—for example, thus: He would have been glad to see a Presbyterian Moderator, a Congregational Chairman, and a Wesleyan President sitting in the House of Lords on a bench with the bishops. He further thought that, as Charles II. was willing to have Nonconformist chaplains, after the Restoration, so an English sovereign might now, without any impropriety, do the same; and if the Uniformity Act were modified so as to allow a Dissenting minister to enter a pulpit of the Establishment, there would be no legal bar in the way. My friend had the widest sympathies possible, and union, with him, was a passion.

In some respects I have a feeling like the Dean’s, but I hold theological and ecclesiastical principles such as he did not adopt. One fundamental difference between us was that he overlooked the exercise of Church discipline, to which I attach great importance. The study of State organisations has convinced me that the “union of Church and State” creates insuperable barriers in the way of ecclesiastical discipline. If the Church be linked to the State, so that a subject of the State becomes thereby legally entitled to membership and communion,—that forms a strong bar to a faithful correction of moral misconduct and fundamental disbeliefs. It was a great difficulty under the Commonwealth. The devoted and holy Thomas Wilson, Bishop of Sodor and Man, found it so in carrying on his diocese. He said in his famous “Ecclesiastical Constitutions” that his desire was “We may not stand charged with the scandals which wicked men bring upon religion, when they are admitted to, and reputed members of, Christ’s Church; and that we may, by all laudable means, promote the conversion of sinners, and oblige men to submit to the discipline of the Gospel.” But for myself, let me say I have not found any difficulty in the maintenance of discipline in Congregational Churches. Whatever might be the basis of Dr. Stanley’s far-reaching comprehension, it appears to me there might be a much broader range of religious sympathy and co-operation between distinct religious bodies connected with the maintenance of well-accentuated beliefs, and the exercise of ecclesiastical discipline.

In the early part of the following year I visited Edinburgh to lecture for the Philosophical Society of that city. My subject was “The Great Rebellion”; and I made a double attempt, first, to vindicate the Parliament policy as against the despotic unconstitutionalism of the infatuated monarch; and secondly, to criticise the proceedings of some eminent men on the Puritan and popular side. The society invited me to lecture again, when different historical ground was taken, and a sketch was presented of English and Scotch life in the days of Queen Anne.

My old friend, and large-hearted host, the Rev. George D. Cullen, favoured me with the company at dinner, of Dr. Goold, Moderator of the Free Church; Dr. Hanna, son-in-law to Dr. Chalmers; Dr. Alexander, and others—and we had earnest talk about topics of the day. Scotch and English elements of thought, blended so as to bring diversities into view, without any portion of the acrimony common to polemical debate. True blue Presbyterianism rose in contrast with milder colours of Ecclesiasticism. There was no want of thrust or repartee, but we kept the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace. Edinburgh society is of the choicest kind. Some of the best talkers may be found on the other side the border; and memories of celebrities in Auld Reekie, are amongst the most pleasant of my life. On the occasion just noticed, my friend Mr. Cullen took me over to St. Andrews; and there Principal Tulloch did the honours of ciceroneship to perfection. In the evening we dined at the house of Professor Swann, where further social enjoyments of a high university order were found to be in store.

During this visit to Scotland a curious fact was related to me by the librarian of the University. Drummond of Hawthornden bequeathed books to the library of that institution, and in the catalogue appeared an item of “MSS. respecting Mary Queen of Scots.”

These MSS. were long missing, and inquiries about them were made in vain. Not very long before my visit, the librarian received a communication from some one who said he had, in his possession, papers belonging to the University; and on receiving a reply to his letter, he forwarded them. They turned out to be the missing treasure. How came this about? As well as I can remember it appeared that a librarian of the last century put one day into his coat pocket these very MSS., and took them home for examination. He suddenly died. His clothes were sent to a relative, and amongst them, the coat containing the documents now mentioned. For a century afterwards they remained forgotten, and then came to light. The possessor, finding they belonged to Edinburgh University, wrote to the librarian as stated above, and restored them to their proper place. The recovered property was shown to me. It included original papers published some time ago, and others not previously known; but, if I may venture to say so, after a brief inspection, they did not promise to be of so much service as was hoped, in throwing fresh light on the mysteries of poor Mary’s career.

The seventh General Conference of the Evangelical Alliance was held in Basle, September 1st 1879.

There was a large gathering of delegates from Germany, France, Austria, Italy, Spain, Holland, America and England. The president was M. C. Sarasin, Councillor of State, who is said to have descended from a Moorish ancestor settled in the canton. He showed himself to be acquainted with English literature.

“Let me remind our English friends,” he said, “of the words their great poet puts in the mouth of Richard II.:

‘Look not to the ground
Ye favourites of a king! Are we not high?
High be our thoughts.’

“Let us cherish high thoughts, my friends! Are we not the servants of a King, of the King of kings, and Lord of lords? And is it not His work we are carrying on?

‘Die sach’ ist dein, Herr Jesu Christ,
Die sach’ an der wir stehen.’
(The cause is Thine, Lord Jesus Christ,
The cause for which we stand.)

“Thus let our work be done, our testimony be given, our efforts be united, in the same joyful steadfast spirit, with the same buoyancy, with which the Apostle, with chained hands, appealed to his flock at Philippi, ‘Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say, rejoice.’”

These were animating words, and awakened an enthusiastic response, when uttered in the old church of St. Martin, where Æcolampadius first preached the doctrines of the Reformation.

I give the following resumÉ of some remarks I made at the Basle Alliance meeting.

The Times reported:

“Dr. Stoughton contrasted the gathering of peoples in that assembly, representative of all nations, with a meeting held in Basle four hundred and fifty years ago. Christendom was then in a very divided state, for the spirit of religious inquiry was breaking out, and the great moot-point was, in all theological controversy, ‘Where lies the ultimate authority for religious beliefs—in Popes, in Councils, or in the Word of God?’ They met that day in times of a somewhat differentcharacter, but of still deeper and wider agitation, for the question now was, not only whether the Church or the Bible was the final test of truth, but also whether reason or revelation should be our guide as to the highest of all subjects which could affect the present and future interests of the human family. But how vast the difference between that famous Council at Basle and the Evangelical Alliance Conference of this day! Under what different aspects was union regarded by the two assemblies! The one aimed at uniformity, at a precise and definitely-expressed agreement of opinion, in relation to theological and ecclesiastical points, which might be enforced on all Christendom by pains and penalties,—even death, to a recreant brother. The other seeks to promote unity, holding, after the experience of ages, that uniformity was impossible, and that true unity could not only be attained, but was compatible with a hearty, loving, sympathetic Christian fellowship throughout the family of the redeemed. He then contrasted the appearance of the two meetings, traced out the history of the followers of John Huss, and, in a long and exceedingly able and interesting historical review of the history of the Reformation, showed that Protestant England was not only indebted to Basle for men but for principles; and, identifying the two with the work of Calvin at Geneva and John Knox in Scotland, he contended that the outcome of those early struggles was not only religious freedom in Europe, but, mainly through the Puritans of England, the religious life and progress of America. Their simple reliance now, as then, was the Gospel of Christ, and freedom to preach and practise its heaven-born truths.”

I have a great delight in all genuine Christian union, but my conception of it is by no means confined to the cultivation of love and sympathy with those, who in all, or in most, respects concur with me. There is an admirable passage in Julius Hare’s preface to the third volume of Arnold’s “Rome.” “We are so bound and shackled, by all manner of prejudices, national, party, ecclesiastical, individual, that we can hardly move a limb freely; and we are so fenced and penned in, that few can look over their neighbour’s land, or up to any piece of sky, except to that which is just over their heads.” I took an active part in the early history of the Evangelical Alliance, and I rejoice in those points of agreement which are expressed in its Evangelical faith; but I have never liked its exclusion of some good people from its fellowship, on the ground of differences in relation to ecclesiastical ordinances. I would look kindly over “my neighbour’s land,” and towards “pieces of sky” which are not “just over my head.”

I can scarcely bring myself to speak of the sorrow which befell me in November 1879. My beloved wife then died, and was interred in Hanwell Cemetery, which pertains to the parish of Kensington. The beautiful words in Proverbs are inscribed on her gravestone: “Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her.” Some time ago I read in the Life of my American friend, Dr. Hodge, the following passage respecting the deceased companion of his life. I can truly appropriate it to my departed loved one. “A humble worshipper of Christ, she lived in love and died in faith. Trustful woman, delightful companion, ardent friend, devoted wife, self-sacrificing mother, we lay you gently here, our best beloved, to gather strength and beauty for the coming of the Lord.”

My dearest friend Joshua Harrison, who was to her as a brother, preached a funeral sermon, in which he said, “The strength of her life was her faith in the Son of God. Her path, though the sun shone brightly upon it, was often a thorny one. Her own health was liable to frequent interruptions, and her heart was pierced again and again by the loss of children, whom she loved better than herself. Oh, the unmurmuring resignation with which seven several times, she saw her dear ones carried to the grave! Oh, the courage with which she bore the shock! She never wavered in the conviction, ‘He loved me and gave Himself for me,’ but felt that these sad sorrows must be only the obscurer manifestations of His love. And hence she could write, ‘Here we shall never be exempt from trial and sorrow, but when we reach that changeless home above, there will be no need of sanctifying us there. All that is needful to make us meet for that holy place must be done here; and oh, how much pruning and purging, how much of grace and strength we need to help us to walk more closely with Him.’

“She has reached that changeless abode now, and has left all sorrow behind. Long, long had she been waiting, but the message came so suddenly at last, that, without knowing she was dying, she found herself at home. The words discovered in her desk, which by copying she had made her own, received sweet and exact fulfilment:

‘The way is long, my Father, and my soul
Longs for the rest and quiet of the goal;
While yet I journey through this weary land,
Keep me from wandering; Father, take my hand,
Quickly and straight,
Lead to Heaven’s gate
Thy child.

‘The way is long, my child, but it shall be
Not one step longer than is best for thee,
And thou shalt know, at last, when thou shalt stand
Close by the gate, how I did take thy hand,
And quick and straight,
Lead to Heaven’s gate
My child.’”