of law, with the advance of education and science -very slowly and almost imperceptibly among so numerous a population; but none of those steps were taken by the Government, except in bringing common morals nearer to daily practice in the criminal code. While the Government proposed concessions to the native population from which the European residents shrunk, and we think as yet wisely, the men who were likely to acquire any benefit from these changes plotted a revolution. The Mohammedan and other native princes, who openly or tacitly have favoured this revolt, had no open cause of quarrel with the Government. They could not allege the truth, that they were no longer able to plunder and rob the ryots and the zemindars. A law founded upon greater force than they could individually wield prevented them. That cause, however, cannot be stated in open court, and the only reasons that can be advanced in their favour is that they were over-pensioned, had great riches, and expected on them to found thrones.

The rebellion must be trampled out. The interests of all civilisation demand that step. No other interests are more involved in its suppression than those of the Indian peasantry and farmers; those of the industrial classes. They acknowledge that peculiarity in this civil war. The open robbers and the soldiers apparently constitute the force in arms against our authority. The popula tion, with the probable exception of the Mohammedans, are not arrayed against our power. The fidelity hitherto of the Bombay and Madras armies, whose treatment has not been superior to that of the Bengal army, proves that the fault rests with the men, on the system on which they have been enlisted, and the administration of their affairs.

The crisis is sufficiently alarming: the events more than sufficiently grave to have warranted the prolongation of the Parlimentary session-because the Executive lives, ever since the Long Parliament, in a dread of permanent bodies, which prevents the appointment of a committee with power to act after the prorogation. The convenience of members should never be suggested as an excuse for the separation of the Houses, under existing circumstances; but one half of the members of the Commons never intended to discharge their duty as it should be performed. One half of the remainder are incapable of discharging it in a sensible manner. The public are fully acquainted with these facts; but a miserable apathy to public interests, the distribution of the elective franchise, and of the representation, render that knowledge almost unavailable.

Constitutional essays have been written on the evils of the Long Parliament, and the power assumed by Oliver Cromwell. We most sincerely wish for ten or twenty years of a second Oliver Cromwell now-such a man as Oliver Cromwell would have been under existing circumstancesfor he might have been Premier, but he would not have sought to become Protector, if Charles

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Stuart could have lowered his prejudices and pretensions to the position of a constitutional sovereign-even after the civil war had existed for some time.

A great catastrophe may be necessary to arouse the country-greater than any that has yet occurred, although we should have supposed before the events, that the cruelty, the disgraceful insults, and the violence suffered in life by British ladies, and even by children, in Meerut and Delhi, and other places, would have, ere now, rendered the war a new crusade. When men cannot write the details of these crimes, they should strain. every nerve to breaking until their memory is hidden in a red and burning vengeance on the perpetrators, that will live for centuries in the fears of their successors.

The members of the Cabinet will say that they are responsible for the administration of the country; but of what value is their responsibility? A former Government plainly and simply murdered some thousands of men whom the nation could not safely want in the Crimea. That fact is just as indisputable as that somebody murdered the cashier of the Irish Midland Railway, although nobody has been hung for the one crime, or the three thousand crimes. It is impossible in either case to discover the guilty party or persons.

If Lord Panmure and Sir John Ramsden are to be held criminally and personally responsible for the death of any soldier who may perish in India from the want of a cover to his cap, or tropical uniform, which might have been supplied; or if the Duke of Cambridge or his subordinates are to be dealt with in that manner, we have no objection to offer against the theory of responsibility; but as Lord Panmure and Sir John Ramsden are very rich men, they would probably resign their offices if these terms were attached to their trust. The country can have no objection to that course. Naval officers are tried for the loss of a ship when that occurs. The commanders of passenger steamers have been punished severely for the loss of li e in the culpable loss of their vessels. The engineer, the pointsman, or the stoker in the service of a railway company, would be criminally punished for negligence that involved death or injury to passengers, and the company would be monetarily punished for employing them. Yet we have abundance of officers for the mercantile and naval service, and men for the railways, exactly as we would have abundance of able and competent persons willing to perform, instead of merely to undertake, more important duties, although governmental responsibilities were made something more than a question of majorities and of Parliamentary politics.

Even if Delhi were captured and destroyed, and its king hung from the burning rafters of his palace; if the King of Oude were tried, and dealt with as the evidence might direct; if Nena Sahib were carried in chains over the length and breadth of India to perish at the last stage; if all the surviving mutineers were banished to cultivate

cotton as felons, for the remainder of their lives, in British Guiana, and internal peace were restored, India would be in danger.

It would be weaker by nearly all the Bengal army, or one half of the force considered necessary in time of peace. It would be open, therefore, to attacks from without, which might have been deemed desperate formerly. Russian agents may Russian agents may or may not have been engaged in planning the present punishment for the war of 1854; but the Russian Government will not conceal its pleasure at any victory achieved by the rebels, and by the expenditure of a few millions of pounds, without

active or apparent interference, the Russians might get up an invasion of India by Mohammedan and other savage tribes at different points of the north and west.

For these reasons we deem that the causes in which this great mutiny originated, the means necessary for its suppression, the punishment due to the crimes by which it has been accompanied, and the work to be done after all these things are over, have not received from the Parliament or the Government, or the people, that intense care in decision, and rapidity in execution, necessary to bring us out of the crisis without ignominy and loss.

CHAPTER XXVI.

MR. GREEN'S PARISH.

It never occurred to me, at a fitting opportunity, to inquire of Mr. Green how he obtained the presentation to the parish of Barebraes. The patron was a great Earl, who had curiously enough scarcely any possessions in the parish, and probably never resorted thither in his life; which was pretty equally divided into winter at Paris, spring and summer in London, autumn in Scotland, to the grief of many poor grouse. It is certain that he was personally unacquainted with Mr. Green, who might have held by the Arian heresy, or, worse still, the Socinian heresy-both prevalent in the pulpits of the Kirk in those days, not in active demonstration but in an effective neutrality, a powerful silence-for anything that the patron cared or knew. He issued the presentation how ever; at the instance perhaps of Mr. Rose, probably through some plan of Dr. More's, or a sug gestion of Mr. Fletcher's, and certainly through some influence or some reason, in which personally the presentee had no share. We all know what is said by persons who get presentations which they do not expect; but Mr. Green accepted, returned a well-composed letter, which I remember that he copied twice, to the noble patron, and prepared sensibly to inhabit the mause of Barebracs, and to perform the duties falling to the pastor of that parish.

The Presbytery examined the qualifications of the young man, although that was a very delicious form indeed, seeing that, with the exception of those members who knew them well, our Presbytery was not learned in any particular sense. One or two brethren in the court might have behaved as examiners in a not very brotherly manner; but it is more awkward sometimes to ask questions than to give replies, and a cautious man keeps out of difficulties. It must be said, for the justification of our Presbytery, that such affairs were only then beginning to be something more than a form, in certain districts, and it would have been

very forward and pert looking conduct to have taken the lead of new fangled practices in a quiet region like that over which this court of the Kirk held ecclesiastical sway. Certain ecclesiastical and theological topics were named, on which the presentee was desired to discourse; but he seemed rather careless than otherwise, and told me that he felt no interest in them, for it would all be useless. To my astonishment also, the Presbytery, according to routine, desired him to read what I should call an essay in Latin; and it was written out carefully, as I afterwards understood, upon the principle that young girls overstitched samplers with the names of all their progenitors, or their initials, to the third generation backwards, which they had framed and glazed, as a memorial of the sewing school and their proficiency, and because their grandmothers had done similar embroidery before them.

I should have remarked that the parishioners had also an opportunity of hearing the presentee as usual; and as usual judging of his qualifications, with which they were perfectly gratified, because it was of no consequence then whether they were pleased or not; but as Mr. Green, held by the old opinions again in any early spring, and budding slightly, a little attention was given to "the call" by some friendly hearers, and it was signed by an extraordinary number of parish ioners, many of whom did not perceive that it was of any consequence, although they were willing to please their future and young minister in a matter that cost nothing.

At last the preliminaries were exhausted, the day of induction fixed, and Mr. Thom, of Glencairnie, preached and presided, as the newspapers said, on the occasion. They also reported that Mr. Thom preached a very eloquent discourse, and that, probably, was true, though, to my ear, it sounded dry as dust, or high and dry; for Mr. Thom, a well connected man-married to the younger sister of the then present Laird of Glencairnie-respectable, and even rich, was very mode

The parishioners of Barebraes were rather be hind the world in intelligence of any kind. They farmed or grazed, grew oats and barley, or raised fat cattle, and had little ambition for any knowledge unconnected with their callings in the world. Of course, they all had inherited a traditional religion, and it was extremely comfortable to them at certain periods; because it could be put off or on, exactly as it was or was not wanted. Their children were sent to school, for it was discreditable to be unable to read the state of the markets, or to sign a lease.

All public matters were made an excuse among the leading persons of Barebraes for a dinner, which meant not so much a dinner, as its consequences. They had attained that point of civilisation; and it indicated progress, but one of a kind common to the Saxon race within the historic period. The induction of a minister to a parish was an excellent excuse for a dinner, or an entertainment to the members of the Presbytery, which occurred in the large room of the Rowan Tree, kept by John Dry, and the reporters said that the evening was spent in a very pleasant manner, that the speeches were eloquent, and the viands of a quality calculated to support the well earned reputation of Mr. and Mrs. Dry. It was the stereotyped story in these days. It is stereotyped yet in many parts.

Public dinners are horrible nuisances under any circumstances. One half of the guests get little or nothing to eat, and the other half, more active or selfish, gorge up what they and their neighbours have paid for. It would be dearly earned fare at the cost of hearing all the set speeches which, for four hours after the removal of the cloth, and "the Queen," occupy people's time and try their patience. It is still more dreadful if you sit in nervous twitchings nearly all the time, in fear of being called upon to return thanks for some class or profession to which it may be your misfortune to belong; for the successful competitors; or the unsuccessful competitors-you are sure to be among them-for the veterinary profession-the medical-the legal-the ministerial, or the press. It is frightful; for what can you say to these people? As the night wears on, half of them have drunk largely. It is not wonderful; they have no other solace amid so much nonsense; and depend upon this, that you have no alternative but to talk nonsense too.

The system is bad enough when applied to the ordinary business of life-to the bestowal of a testimonial on the factor, including a silver tea ser

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vice for his wife-to a parting with the doctor, who is glad to escape from the health that abounds at Barebraes-to the close of a local exhibition of pigs and poultry-to the spring cattle tryst, or to the Midsummer wool-market. It may be passable when some young fellow attains his majority, or tolerated when he does the most sensible thing that he has ever done since his majority-when he gets married. But these Presbyterial dinners having a semblance of religion in them, give to the guests a habit of speaking on that class of subjects when they should rather, if anything, be ashamed of themselves—as, peradventure, upon mature consideration, they should be very often-and this dinner, in particular, was a thorn in the flesh to poor Mr. Green for many days, who regarded it as a bad beginning of his life in the parish; but all these customs die game, gradually, slowly, yet they die, and Presbyterial dinners have become sober affairs in reality, which, for any use that they can be to the Evil One, who is interested in all late tarryings over the wine cup, might as well not occur.

When all these things were over, the young minister found himself a lonely man in a large and empty house, for the heritors always built great staring houses for manses, capable of spending five hundred pounds yearly, even if the stipend were not more than half that amount. It stood on a brae literally-a rather cold brae-and looked over a wide space of country, stretching away to the south and the east, full of corn fields and meadows, and waving woods, here and there, in summer; and equally full of them in winter, but they did not wear then quite the same appearance. A prospect of that rich agricultural character is the most uninteresting to be supposed from the close of November on to the end of February, by darkness or daylight-perhaps the former is preferable. The moonlight of clear and frosty evening gives it a charm, but of course it is all borrowed from that poor source of beauty that only borrows to bestow upon the deserted earth. The ground behind the manse was thin and stoney soil, what the farmers of Braeside called unimproved, and it would have been very difficult to make it anything elsc. The last incumbent had, after some expensive efforts in that way, given the land over as hopeless; yet, when the springs were turning into summers, and its little birch trees grew green, and all the whins were brightly yellow, it was the chosen grove of many light-hearted birds, who sang merrily among its barrenness, and showed good taste in the selection. At one period a space of ground before the house had been a garden, but it had long become that of the sluggard in one sense, for the fences were broken up, and all the living creatures on the glebe had free admission to its borders and walks. The new incumbent being a bad farmer and a good horticulturist, built the walls and laid out the garden, digging and planting more there than in all the six-and a-half acres that made up the glebe, in addition to the furze land

already described. His labours on that one spot earned for him a thriftless character among his substantial parishioners, who were not addicted to the cultivation of flowers, and gave a marked preference to cabbages. He even went so far as to form an oval in the centre of this garden, raising it gradually over the neighbouring divisions and plots. It formed a rather pretty object from his window in after years, for he tended all its flowers, dug their soil very carefully, and watered and watched them through all the dry and parching summers. They were quite common flowers, too, for he never seemed to introduce the new floral specimens that he might have obtained at Kirkhowe. It was a strange faucy, but all the bloom spread over this mound of carefully kept earth, for always three-fourths of each year-came from the Kirk-yard of Kirkhowe-came from one gravefor that was true even of my thyme that had passed some years in Edinburgh, and had grown quite city like and metropolitan. And it was quite curious to notice the changes that gradually occurred on these flowers by anxious tending, and how they seemed to grow larger, and the tints on the roses deepened, and the colours of smaller flowers brightened, and this idolatry of a withered heart waxed so very beautiful; but none, perhaps, except myself, knew the source from which the flowerets came, nor why they were so well beloved amid the labours incidental to the mental and moral cultivation of a people who were not over inclined to appreciate works of that description.

In other respects, Barebraes was not an objectionable place of abode. Once, perhaps, the name of the parish described its nature, but that must have been long ago, for except in its upper ridges the land was ordinarily productive; and with these exceptions there was not a bare spot in the parish. It was not more than eight to ten miles from the mause of Barebraes to Kirkhowe; but the roads were far from being macadamised, and that made the way seem longer to those who drove or rode. The parish did not even contain the semblance of a village, and it had no library; its school was old fashioned, and very contracted in all its efforts, for the teacher was nearly of Mr. Petrie's age, but had been left entirely to himself, and had intellectually rusted into a condition suitable to that of his neighbours. The last incumbent was a good farmer-he was supposed to be profoundly learned -and when I hear of one of these profoundly learned personages now in country districts, I am satisfied, as a mere matter of circumstantial evidence, that the man is good for nothing, but that he encourages the idea of profound learning by wary looks and wise shakes of an empty head; or that at any rate, his learning is as useless as the desert streams a thousand fathoms down beneath a load of sand, dry as dust of course. The prettiest sight in all our northern land is seen by those who climb to the peaks of our great mountains, and drink from the clear springs that seem to break their way through five thousand feet of solid

granite, and are like a crown of joy to the bare rocks. A fringe of deeply green moss gathers round them, not creeping and leaning on the rock, but growing upwards for six or seven inches, or more, in fragile and slender stems, but very beautiful, the lovely children of the granite dust and the pure water. Sit down on that cliff, peer down and watch the spring forcing up its waters, for it is done noiselessly; you do not hear, you only see -up, up from darkness to light they chase each other, and dance and sparkle in the sunny light; or the winter's storm, far above the common things of time and of the world-up first and then down through the little grooves that they have cut for themselves in the rock; leaping gladsomely to be relieved from the prison-the gloomy prison, with its crevices, through which they have crept; leaping down from ledge to shelve, by many a bend and crook, to lave the roots of the slender heather, to cool the parched tongue of the panting lamb-with blessings many on their surface to all manner of life; down and down among the thick grass, till the beech springs up by its water courses; where they gather together, and grow noisy in their glee-grow noisy and then strong, and sweep around the base of the mountain-a crystal stream-into which the grass loves to grow, and long slender branches stoop down to bathe.

"Profound learning," if it be useful learning, will find its way, even if it were through the chinks and crevices of granite obstruction, to the light and love of the world; were it only to water a wild plant's root, or give vigour to a wild bird's wing; but the old minister of Barebraes was a specimen of a class who live on reputation, and who, in his position, made his hearers very happy in their way. To him and them it seemed that the life to come was the most agreeable matter imaginable. Care, and labour, and much thought went to the upmaking of the present life, but as for the next, that was the most singular developement that man ever dreamed. The parishioners of Barebraes did not die early, but when or whereever they died, or however and in whatever way they had lived-like the entire Church of England in that vexatious snare-the burial service; or the Church of Rome, with its oils, and ointments, and words of a sinner, and sometimes a great one

to them the pearly gates were open, and they entered the streets of the golden city, certainly not always through much suffering, but if all the truth had been told, often through much strong drink, and an awful load of worldly mindedness and worldly wisdom.

A twenty-two years' fight with these influences and wants was the hard work of a strong man's life. Mr. Green was not a strong man, and it finished his course.