His lips pronounced them not. The hours

roll'd on;

The jocund groups withdrew; and one by one

The lamps went out; and fainter rose the notes

Of mirth and music, till they died away, And Night resum'd her silence and repose. But the mysterious stranger linger'd still, Lonely and desolate, a ghost that told Of pleasures now departed. Long he roam'd

In gloom and sadness; but when morn. ing broke,

He stretch'd his wearied limbs along the brink

Of a transparent fountain, where he quench'd

His burning thirst, and cool'd his throb. bing brow.

At morn Bianca left her bridal bed,
And stole unseen into the summer woods.
She sat her down upon a flowery bank,
And as her raven tresses loosely flow'd
Unbraided o'er her neck, her bosom
heav'd

Convulsively, and short quick sobs gave place

To floods of gushing tears. Hide, hide

thy woe,

Young bride! Thou art not yet alone. Look up!

A stranger gazes on thee, and his lips Pronounce one word-" Bianca!" Ha!

she starts,

Her cye meets his,-Oh Heav'n! that scream! that scream!

Thomas.-Gude day, John; you're setting hame, I see. Weel, how did ye like the wark the day? Did ye ever see sic a fu' house as yon?

John. Mony a time, Thomas; but no in yon place.

Thomas. We'll ding you a' down now. After this your kirk wull be as tum as a whistle.

"We'll be up, and you'll be down, Baith in kintra and in town."

量

John.-Clavers-" What we want we wish at ony rate." Curiosity, Thomas, led me, and mony mae, to fill your house the day; but for sicin a SERMON as yon, I wou'dna gang the length o' my tae for a thousand

o't. It's the cuckoo sang o' a dissenting ordination-sermon.

Thomas. That may be your opinion, but it's no mine. I never heard a better sermon in my life." John.-Aye, aye, Thomas, "your GEESE are a' swans." But, blaw awa', blaw awa', and brag on.

Thomas.-Inwardly, you think as I do, I ken you weel,-your aye taking us down, whene'er ye ha'e an opportunity. But, laying aside a' banter, I put it again to you, gif ye ever heard a better? Odd, my verra heart danced wi' joy when he tauld us, frae the text, that our minister was formed" frae the woмв to be his servant among us; that he was to "restore" the " OUTCASTS" o' Israel in this place, because they cou'dna join wi' a corrupted kirk; that he was to "gather" them to gether in one house-which has been lang deserted, and "restore" unto us the GENTILES, wha are a' to be gi'en to him for their "salvation."

John.-Nae wunner ye war overjoyed, Thomas, whan you understood the sermon in that sense, and applied it a' to your future aggrandize

ment.

Thomas. What ither sense cou'd I understand it in? It was as clear to me as a pike-staff; I saw frae it, at ae glance o' my e'e, that the hail parish, in a wee, wou'd be ours, and that ye wou'd ha'e naething but a tum kirk and bare wa's.

John. Just sae, Thomas; "As the fool thinks the bell clinks;" and sae it has been wi' you. I viewed the sermon, which was a verra ordinary ane, and verra indifferently deliver ed, in a verra different light. I understood it as describing the triumphs of the Messiah, this bringing Jacob again to him,-raising up and restoring the TRIBES o' Israel, and gathering them again into ane,—and, as an extension o' his services and his reward, giving HIM for a light to the Gentiles, that "HE might be their salvation unto the end o' the earth.' This, Thomas, was, I think, the scope and design o' the sermon; and gif you had attended to it, without itching ears, to find PARTY in it, ye wou'd just ha'e understood it as I did. Wi' your way o't, ye wou'd mak' your minister speak something little short o' blasphemy, man.

Thomas.-Blasphemy here, blasphemy there, I understood him as I ha'e said. It may be, he meant the triumphs o' the Messiah; but it appeared to me, and mae o' us, that he ettled plainly at our triumphs owre the kirk,—that our minister wou'd be glorious in the eyes o' the Lord, -that God wou'd be his strength, —and that he wou'd gi'e to him the Gentiles; and ye ken, John, gif we get them, our house, as weel as our minister, we'll be glorious ;” our seats will set high-our colleetions will be great-the debt on the house will soon be paid off, and we'll be able to support our minister as splendidly as yours.

John.-Bright visions, Thomas. But wha do you mean by the Gentiles? I'm doubtfu' gif ye binna perverting that word, as you ha'e done the sermon.

Thomas.-Mean! I mean the Gen

tiles. Wha else shou'd I mean? Isna that the verra word in the Bible? and can it mean ony thing but a' the weel-born, and weel-bred-a' the rich and the great in the parish? these are to fill our house.

John.-I thought ye had measured your members, no by their wealth, but their worth; and that the poorest members o' Christ were dearer to you than the ungodly, however rich in temporal gude things. But, Thomas, you're a' aff your eggs about the Gentiles in the text. The word there, man, means, no the weel-born and the weel-bred, but Heathens and Pagans.

Thomas.-Weel-a-weel, they're a' the liker to our Gentiles in that— for, except ane here, and ane there, the maist o' them live like Heathens; odd, you may ride a simmer day before ye get ane o' them that attends regularly the kirk, or keeps up family-worship in their houses; and gin I'm tauld true, there are some o' them sae graceless, and sae independent o' their Maker, that they winna' even thank Him, or ask a blessing on their meals.

John. They're no so ill as a' that, Thomas- there's mony a worthy man amang them; and gif some o' them dinna say sic lang prayers and graces as you and some o' your folks, yet they're mair honourable in their words, truer to their promises, and up

righter in their dealings, than mony o' you gif they war as you say, they wud do little credit to your meetinghouse; for the glory of a kirk is the purity o' her professors.

Thomas. Granted; and it's for this end they are to be given to us, that our minister may restore them to their pristine purity, and be their "salvation."

John. You're feeding yoursel', Thomas, wi' wind. Admitting ye were right in the meaning o' the word Gentiles, can ye really deceive yoursel' so far as to think that they wou'd attend you, or countenance or encourage your house?

Thomas.-Gif the Bible say it, they'll be brought to do't. Whatever is written and prophesied therein maun come to pass-fIe can mak' them, as weel as ithers, "willing subjects i' the day o' his power."

John. Quite sound, Thomas; gif our genteel people war the Gentiles mentioned in the text. But I've tauld you they're no them. Our Gentiles ha'e a strong worldly interest, to keep them awa' frae your meeting-house, or gi'en' you ony countenance what

John?

"THEIR MOUTH BITE AFF THEIR NOSE." Thae folk didna see far afore them, or they wou'dna ha'e done that. But whan wrath's in, wit's out; passion is a bad horse to ride, for, sooner or later, it throws the rider in the mire, and sae it wull be wi' them. Their minister, who is a tonguie fallow, and has been ill, ill used amangst them, winna live always; and whan he's gane, it winna be sae easy to bring them back to the kirk again as to tak' them awa'and that they'll find to their cost, gif they dinna speedily mend their manners. They ha'e made themselves a laughing-stock to a' the kintra round.

Thomas. Some o' our heritors are na owre well pleased wi' our ain minister either, on account o' his augmentation-business; and aiblins, in order to chaw him, they may e'en come and sit wi' us-for, independent o' a' that, your minister, though popular, is but a poor preacher. He wants unction, animation, and fire. I winna say he has not "the form o' sound words," but O but his doctrine is weak, and every day the weaker: between oursel's, John, he's but a poor thing, after a'. Gin he hadna been married to the co-heiress o', he wou'd ha'e been out o' the elbows langsyne, and been as little thought o' in the parish as his auld kirk, which is now in ruinsvow, man, what a falling off betwixt him and his predecessors! he ne'er was fit to had a candle to auld St-nie, or Cr-f-d; besides, he isna'

John.-Stop, stop, I say; speak as muckle gude o' your ain minister as ye like, but say nae ill o' mine. My wife, weans, and servants, a' depend on him for their spiritual instruction. Ony thing that wou'd lessen him in their and my esteem wou'd be a serious injury to us a'. How ye, that pretend to be better than others, can reconcile speaking ill o' your neighbours, wi' Christianity, is mair than I can fathom. " evil The Apostle tells us to speak o' no man." Your creed is to speak ill o' the kirk and her ministers, it wou'd seem.

Thomas. I was saying nae ill o' him ; I was only speaking the truth, and that's nae sin.

John.-But the truth is not aye

to be tauld; there are many offensive truths; and we ought neither in word nor in deed to offend. It is, Thomas, ane o' the greatest faults I ha'e to you and a' dissenters, that ye winna let kirk ministers alane; they are the constant objects o' your attack, in public and private; and the mair I think on't, the mair I see the force o' the answer which Mr gaed to ane who jibbed him as they passed a dissenting kirk in his parish. "What house is that," said he? "It has nae lums in't, I think?" The question was repeated, when Mrreplied, "It's a BARN, Sir." "A BARN! It canna be that, it's like a meeting-house." "I tell you it's a barn, Sir, for THRASHING the Kirk o' Scotland in." And, certes, Thomas, it seems to be as it were your meat and your drink to pu' down the kirk, and to haud her ministers up to derision and scorn.

Thomas. Never war you farer wrang. Our presbytery has not only invited your minister to dine wi' them and our new minister this day, but also a number o' the respectable gentlemen in the parish, belonging to the kirk. Is this like scorning them? Is't no proof positive o' the greatest "liberality o sentiment," and " brotherly love?" Answer me that.

John.-Fairly will I, gif you will answer me the following, candidly and honestly.

Thomas. Ise do my best, if they're fair questions.

John.-What then, Thomas, wou'd you think o' that sheep-stealer, who shou'd come to an honest and simple shepherd, as he was watching his flock, wha were a' living in harmony wi' him, and shou'd invite him to come and dine wi' him at the verra moment he was planning to divide his fold, and wyle the half o' them to his ain fold?

Thomas. I wou'd think him an impudent and unprincipled fallow; ane wha, as some author says,

Would smile, and smile, And yet could be a villain. John.-Weel; what, on the other hand, would you think o' the shepherd, gif he knew the thief and his intentions, wha would yet, in the perfect knowledge of thae, not only

accept o' the invitation himsel', but would take the choicest and fattest o' his flock wi' him, his bell-weathers, whom a' the rest fallowed,-to introduce them to his acquaintance, whose interest it was to wheedle them owre to his ain fold, that he may feed daintily on them?

Thomas.-I wou'd count him an unfaithfu' shepherd,-betraying the flock that was entrusted to him by his master, and being art and part wi' the thief in countenancing and encouraging sic division and loss. I've answered your questions fairly; now answer me mine, and say, gif it was na liberal and brotherly for our Presbytery to invite your minister and his folk to dine wi' them in the change-house the day?

John-You have only to apply the questions I ha'e put to ken my opinion o' baith o' their conducts. The one in giving and the ither in receiving the invitation. It is a', in my een, naething but a piece o' vile jesuitical cunning and policy. What is the object o' your minister coming here but to sow division,-to divide the flock, to persuade them to a bandon the kirk and come owre to him, to remove the parishioners from their legal pastor, and to place them. sel's under his guidance and ministrations, and thus to break in upon the unity and harmony o' the parish? This, you maun admit, is the design. How, otherwise, cou'd your house be filled, and your minister paid and supported? And what, on the other hand, is the duty o' the parish minister in the knowledge o' this? For what end was he ordained? Was it not, amang ither things, to prevent schism,-to keep his flock thegither,to censure a' who follow divisive courses, and "vigorously" to use all suitable means for reclaiming all sic misled people? and gif he does na do this, and try every mean for preventing the growth of schism, the Presbytery and Synod are strictly enjoined to take "particular notice" o' him, for winking at schismatical courses, and to censure him according to the demerit of his fault, even to deposition, if necessary. Such, unquestionably, Thomas, is his duty, which he engages to perform under the solemn sanctions; and truly I ha'e nae notion o' that “li

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berality o' sentiment," which, for a moment's popularity, makes a man forget his duty, and the interests o' his church, and the harmony and unity o' his parish? I'm no sae well skilled, Thomas, i' the laws and the practice o' your kirk. But didna you lift up an act and testimony against our kirk as corrupt and erroneous? In that act and testimony didna you declare that ye cou'd haud nae communion wi' her or her members? Many a time, I ain sure, I ha'e heard your ministers, in a' the seeming fervour o' sincerity and detestation, paint our Kirk o' Scotland in the blackest colours, as gif salvation wasna to be found in her; and then they would cry, with tears often, Oh! Come out o' her, come out o' her, and be ye separate, and touch not the unclean thing, and we will receive you." Nay, in eloquence and tone, and snivel and gesture, peculiarly their ain, they didna rest satisfied wi' this, but proceeded to describe her as a "habitation for devils," "a cage for every unclean bird;" and her ministers nae mair fit to be ministers o' Christ than a sow to be cook in a king's kitchen. The poor Kirk o' Scotland was held up just as a puddle well, and her clergy as twa three black clocks (insects) summing (swimming) on the top o't, in order to clear't; but a' they could do was vain, for it was a PUDDLE, and wouldaye be a puddle, till a reformation cam'; and they would cry again, "Come out o' her, my people, that ye be na partakers o' her sins, and that ye receive not o' her plagues." From these facts, you will be able to judge how your ministers and ours can agree and associate the day as brothers. Their principles and practices forbid unity and harmonythey are antipodes to ane anither in their duties to their respective kirks, in their views and feelings. They cannot, consistently with the obligations imposed upon them by their respective kirks, go hand in hand together. The dissenting presbytery lift up their act and testimony against the kirk; and the kirk forbids her ministers to countenance or to encourage schismatics, which seceders are. Yet, in the face of their act and testimony, the associate presbytery invite the parish minister; and in the

VOL. XVI.

face o' the laws against schism and schismatics, the parish minister accepts o' the invitation; and thus, instead of vigorously using all suitable means to reclaim them, encourages and countenances them. Admirable consistency in baith! After this, will the parish minister ever say a word about schism, or the seceding one ever lift his lip, and cry, “Come out from among them, my people, and be ye separate?" No, naething but liberality and brotherly love maun henceforth prevail, and holy joy and peace grow up in But then where will the dissenters be? There will be nae Absalom to steal the hearts o' the people.

Thomas. An he dinna do that, he may dight his neb and flee up whene'er he likes; and the sooner the better. How is his stipend to be paid, and the house kept up, if he dinna bring folk to fill it? And whar are they to come frae, gin they dinna come frae the kirk?

John. But how can he do that wi' ony consistency, after a'this feasting, and healthing, and exclaiming, "How pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!"

Thomas.-Do! nae fear o' them. Their smirking, and smiling, and bowing, and scraping, and shaking o' hands, and good-fellowship between them the day, pat me in mind o' a story which the auld laird o'ance tauld me. He had a plea in the Court o' Session ance, he said, and sae he gaed awa' in to Edinbrogh to hear the pleadings. Whan the cause cam' on, the twa Advocates, he said, barked bitterly, and before they haud done were like to thrapple ane anither. In a wee time after they had gaen awa', he dauner'd into the big ha' whar' the Advocates walk, and, to his confoundment, wha did he see but the twa Advocates as thick and pack as dog-heads, laughing and gaffawing awa' at the hits they had gi'en ane anither. "I was real mad," quoth he, sae disgusted at what I heard, that I settled, that night, the plea; and they ha'e ne'er got me since syne, into any plea, and never sall;-to ha'e my pouches toomed, and laucht at forbye, was what I could na thole." Mony a time I ha'e thought on this story. Lawyers may do any thing; but I ne'er expected, John, in

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