other persons actively engaged in the missionary work of the American Presbyterian Churches.

In the great, and rapidly growing greater, Dominion of Canada, Presbyterianism has taken a firm hold, and has had a wonderful history. The three Presbyterian Churches of Scotland established the earliest mission stations, and from a small beginning the Presbyterian Church has more than kept pace with the country's growth. The different branches of the Church united in one organization, and there are no finer men in the world than the members of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in Canada.

Though not the first numerically in the Dominion, the Canadian Presbyterian Church is easily the first in influence. She has over 1,000 ministers, 2,500 churches and mission stations, 250,000 communicants and a yearly income of nearly $2,500,000.

So much for the success of Presbyterianism in America. In nature it is representative and democratic. Its struggles have been long and fierce, and always for the right. Its successes have been great and lasting. Presbyterianism makes a strong appeal to intelligence: to the head and the heart, more than to the imagination and the fancy. It is a thoroughly intelligent system framed on strictly logical principles. Other systems with a gaudy ritual and a loose creed, may appeal to the senses and the imagination, and may win to their side the credulous and the unthinking. Presbyterianism, with a simple service and an orthodox creed, appeals to the understanding of its people. Our Church believes that when unadorned the Gospel is adorned the most, and, that, if through the understanding she can reach the affections, the imagination will not be left uncultivated.

Where in all history can such a story be found as she has to tell, and where can so much be found which, while it appeals to the understanding, will also satisfy the heart? Presbyterianism made Scotland and Protestant Ireland what they are to-day. It liberated Holland. On the blood-stained soil of France it was the firm friend of liberty. In the great Republic of America it secured and maintained a free independence, and is a system well fitted for a large and ever

John Adams, second President, was the son of a grocer of very moderate means. The only start he had was a good education.

Andrew Jackson was born in a log hut in North Carolina, and was reared in. the pine woods for which his State is famous.

James K. Polk spent the earlier years of his life helping to dig a living out of a new farm in North Carolina. He was afterward a clerk in a country store.

Millard Filmore was the son of a New York farmer, and his home was an humble one. He learned the business of a clothier.

James Buchanan was born in a small town in the Allegheny Mountains. His father cut logs and built the home in what was then a wilderness.

Abraham Lincoln was the son of a wretchedly poor farmer in Kentucky, and lived in a log cabin until he was twenty-one years old.

Andrew Johnson was apprenticed to a tailor at the age of ten years by his widowed mother. He was never able to attend school, and picked up all the education he ever had.

Ulysses S. Grant lived the life of a village boy, in a plain house on the bank of the Ohio River, until he was seventeen years old.

James A. Garfield was born in a log cabin. He worked on the farm until he was strong enough to use carpenter's tools, when he learned the trade. He afterward worked on a canal.

Grover Cleveland's father was a Presbyterian minister with a small salary and a large family. The boys had to earn their living.

William McKinley's early home was plain and comfortable, and his father wa able to keep him at school.-Ex.

the

To an American the great charm of Edinburgh is its leisurely atmosphere: not the leisure of a village arising from the deficiency of ideas and motives, but the leisure of a city reposing grandly on tradition and history; which has done its work, and does not require to weave its own clothing, to dig its own coals, or smelt its own iron. In the great houses the Scotch butler is not in the least like an English one. No man could be as respectable as he looks, not even an elder of the kirk, whom he resembles closely. He hands you a plate as if it were a contribution box, and in his moments of ease, when he stands behind the "maister," I am always expecting him to pronounce a benediction. The English butler, when he wishes to avoid the appearance of listening to the conversation, gazes with level eye into vacancy; the Scotch butler looks distinctly heavenward, as if he were brooding on the principle of co-ordinate jurisdiction with mutual subordination. It would be impossible for me to deny the key of the wine-cellar to a being so steeped in sanctity, but it has been done, I am told, in certain rare and isolated cases.

The ladies of the "smart set" in Edinburgh wear French fripperies, as do their sisters everywhere, but the other women of society dress a trifle more staidly than their cousins in London, Paris, or New York. This may be due to the Shorter Catechism, or perhaps in some degree to the presence of three branches of the Presbyterian Church among them; the society that bears in its bosom three separate and antagonistic kinds of Presbyterianism at the same time must have its chilly moments.

Lord Cockburn tells us, in his delightful memorials, some delicious accounts of how the Edinburgh ladies dressed a century ago. Nobody, he says, could sit down like the Lady of Inverleith. She would sail like a ship from Tarshish,

gorgeous in velvet or rustling silk, done up in all the accompaniments of fans, ear-rings and finger rings, falling sleeves, scent bottle, embroidered bag, hoop, and train; managing all this seemingly heavy rigging with as much ease as a fullblown swan does its plumage. She would take possession of the centre of a large sofa, and at the same moment, without the slightest visible exertion, cover the whole of it with her bravery, the graceful folds seeming to lay themselves over it, like summer waves. The descent from her carriage, too, where she sat like a nautilus in its shell, was a display which no one in these days could accomplish or even fancy. The mulberry-colored coach, apparently not too large for what it contained, though she alone was in it; the handsome, jolly coachman and his splendid hammer-cloth loaded with lace; the two respectful liveried footmen, one on each side of the richly carpeted step,

these were lost sight of amidst the slow majesty with which the Lady of Inverleith came down and touched the earth.

This vision belongs to the Antiquarian Museum and there is nothing like it now in Edinburgh. We had a great sight, however, in the opening of the General Assembly. The Dragoons and the Royal Scots and the unicorns, carricks, pursuivants, heralds, mace-bearers, ushers and pages, together with the pursebearer, and the Lyon King-at-Arms, and the national anthem, and the royal salute are all there, and old Holyrood Palace is awakened and mimicking its past.

Mrs. M'Collop herself is a pillar of the Free Kirk, but she has no prejudice in lodgers, and says so long as she "maks her rent she doesna care aboot their religious principles." To belong to a dissenting body, and yet to cook early and late for the purpose of fattening one's religious rivals, is doubtless trying to the temper; and then she asserts that "meenisters are aye toom."

1

misty, opalescent, melting into the pearly white clouds, so that one cannot tell where sea ends and sky begins.

But we are off to the East Neuk of Fife. We are looking for lodgings. First there is the lady who wishes to rent two rooms for fifteen shillings a week, but will not give much attendance, as she is slightly asthmatic. Then comes the little house where William Beattie's sister Mary died in May, and there wasna a bonnier woman in Fife. Next is the cottage with the pansy garden, where the lady in the widow's cap takes five o'clock tea in the bay window. Then there is the cottage with the double white tulips, the cottage with the collie on the front steps, the doctor's house with the yellow laburnum tree.

Where does the path lead to?-that was the point. Along the left, as you lean wistfully over the gate, there runs a stone wall topped by a green hedge; and on the right, first, furrows of pale fawn, then below, furrows of deeper brown, and mulberry, and red ploughed earth stretching down to waving fields.

There is a path that leads between the green hedge and the ploughed field, and it leads seductively to the farm-steadin'. It was a most lovely path. There were little gaps in the hedge and the wall, through which we peered into a daisystarred pasture, where a herd of flaxenhaired cows fed on the sweet green grass. The mellow ploughed earth on the right hand stretched down to the shore-line, and a plough-boy walked up and down the long straight furrows whistling "My Nannie's Awa'." This Neuk of Fife is so far removed from the music halls that their cheap songs and strident echoes never reach its sylvan shades, and the herd-laddies and ploughboys still sweeten their labors with the old classic melodies.

Here we settled, neither boarders nor lodgers, but residents, inhabitants, householders, and we live in a wee, theekit hoosie in the old loaning. Words fail to tell you how absolutely Scottish we are and how blissfully happy. It is a happiness, I assure you, achieved through great tribulation. The ideal ever beckoned us onward. I was determined to find a romantic lodging, and we have found it.

It is the glory of the American Republic that every man who has filled the office of President has grown in stature when clothed with its power and has proved himself worthy of its solemn trust. It is our highest claim to the respect of the world and the vindication of man's capacity to govern himself.

Congress had thrown to the winds the last shreds of decency in its treatment of Andrew Johnson, the Chief Magistrate. Stoneman led this campaign of insult, not merely from feelings of personal hate, but because he saw that thus the President's conviction before the Senate would become all but inevitable.

When his messages arrived from the White House they were thrown into the waste-basket without being read, amid jeers, hisses, curses, and ribald laughter.

In lieu of their reading, Stoneman would send to the Clerk's desk an obscene tirade from a party newspaper, and the Clerk of the House would read it amid the mocking groans, laughter, and applause of the floor and galleries.

A favorite clipping described the President as "an insolent drunken brute, in comparison with whom Caligula's horse was respectable."

Conover, the perjured wretch, in prison for his crimes as a professional witness in the assassination trial, now circulated the rumor that he could give evidence that President Johnson was the assassin of Lincoln. Without a moment's hesitation, Stoneman's henchmen sent a petition to the President for the pardon of this villain that he might turn against the man who had pardoned him and swear his life away! This scoundrel was borne in triumph from prison to the Capitol and placed before the Impeachment Committee, to whom he poured out his wondrous tale.

The sewers and prisons were dragged

for every scrap of testimony to be found, and the day for the trial approached.

As it drew nearer, excitement grew intense. Swarms of adventurers expecting the overthrow of the Government crowded into Washington. Dreams of honors, profits, and division of spoils held riot. Gamblers thronged the saloons and gaming-houses, betting their gold on the President's head.

Stoneman found the business more serious than even his daring spirit had dreamed. His health suddenly gave way under the strain, and he was put to bed by his physician with the warning that the least excitement would be instantly fatal.

His illness made it necessary to choose an assistant to conduct the case before the Hight Court. There was but one member of the House whose character and ability fitted him for the placeGeneral Benj. F. Butler, of Massachusetts, whose name was enough to start a riot in any assembly in America.

His selection precipitated a storm at the Capitol. A member leaped to his feet on the floor of the House and shouted:

"If I were to characterize all that is pusillanimous in war, inhuman in peace, forbidden in morals, and corrupt in politics, I could name it in one wordButlerism!"

General Butler replied with crushing insolence:

"It is true, Mr. Speaker, that I may have made an error of judgment in trying to blow up Fort Fisher with a powder ship at sea. I did the best I could with the talents God gave me. An angel could have done no more. At least I bared my own breast in my country's defence a thing the distinguished gentleman who insults me has not ventured to do his only claim to greatness being that, behind prison walls, on perjured

testimony, his fervid eloquence sent an innocent American mother screaming to the gallows."

The fight was ended only by an order from the old Commoner's bed to Bing

ham to shut his mouth and work with Butler. When the President had been crushed, then they could settle Kilkennycat issues. Bingham obeyed.

When the august tribunal assembled in the Senate Chamber, fifty-five Senators, presided over by Salmon P. Chase, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, constituted the tribunal. They took their seats in a semi-circle in front of the Vice-President's desk at which the Chief Justice sat. Behind them crowded the one hundred and ninety members of the House of Representatives, the accusers of the ruler of the mightiest Republic in human history. Every inch of space in the galleries was crowded with brilliantly dressed men and women, army officers in gorgeous uniforms, and the pomp and splendor of the ministers of every foreign court of the world. In spectacular grandeur no such scene was ever before witnessed in the annals of justice.

The magnificent head of the Chief Justice suggested strange thoughts to the beholder. He had been summoned but the day before to try Jefferson Davis for the treason of declaring the Southern States out of the Union. To-day he sat down to try the President of the United States for declaring them to be in the Union! He had protested with warmth that he could not conduct both these trials at once.

When the case was complete, the whole bill of indictment stood forth a tissue of stupid malignity without a shred of evidence to support its charges.

On the last day of the trial, when the closing speeches were being made, there was a stir at the door. The throng of men, packing every inch of floor space, were pushed rudely aside. The crowd craned their necks, Senators turned and looked behind them to see what the disturbance meant, and the Chief Justice rapped for order.

Suddenly through the dense mass appeared the forms of two gigantic negroes carrying an old man. His grim face, white and rigid, and his big club foot

hanging pathetically from those black arms, could not be mistaken. A thrill of excitement swept the floor and galleries, and a faint cheer rippled the surface, quickly suppressed by the gavel.

The negroes placed him in an armchair facing the semi-circle of Senators, and crouched down on their haunches beside him. Their kinky heads, black skin, thick lips, white teeth, and flat noses made, for the moment, a curious symbolic frame for the chalk-white passion of the old Commoner's face.

He shambled painfully to his feet amid a silence that was awful. Again the sheer wonder of the man's personality held the imagination of the audience. His audacity, his fanaticism, and the strange contradictions of his character stirred the mind of friend and foe alike— this man, who tottered there before them, holding off Death with his big ugly left hand, while with his right he clutched at the throat of his foe! Honest and dishonest, cruel and tender, great and mean, a party leader who scorned public opinion, a man of conviction, yet the most unscrupulous politician, a philosopher who preached the equality of man, yet a tyrant who hated the world and despised all men!

He spoke at first with unnatural vigor, a faint flush of fever lighting his white face, his voice quivering yet penetrating.

"Upon that man among you who shall dare to acquit that President," he boldly threatened, "I hurl the everlasting curse of a Nation-an infamy that shall rive and blast his children's children until they shrink from their own name as from the touch of pollution!"

The effect was electrical. Every Senator leaned forward to catch the lowest whisper, and so awful was the suspense in the galleries the listeners grew faint.

When his last mad challenge was hurled into the teeth of the judges, the dazed crowd paused for breath, and the galleries burst into a storm of applause.

In vain the Chief Justice rose, his lionlike face livid with anger, pounded for order, and commanded the galleries to be cleared.

When the Senate Chamber had been cleared, and the most disgraceful scene that ever occurred within its portals had closed, the High Court of Impeachment