drawn from the Sacred Writings, as proving the propriety of the principles they contended for, but by an appeal to the ancient statutes of their Kirk, which declared that "no minister shall be intruded into any parish contrary to the will of the congregation." In support of their claim to spiritual independence, they declared it to be a principle incorporated with the very constitution of the Church of Scotland, and taught in all her standards, that "there is no other head of the Church but the Lord Jesus Christ," and that any interference of the civil power with the spiritual functions of the Kirk was to be resisted as a deposition of its Great Head. The grounds thus assumed by the Scottish Non-intrusionists were very similar to those maintained by the several Dissenting communities of the United Kingdom: the latter, however, repudiate State support as well as State control, whilst the former held that it was the duty of the civil power to uphold the Church by its authority and contributions, but not to interfere with her independent freedom of action. The settlement of ministers in the Reformed Kirk had from time immemorial been in this wise. A call, or written invitation, was addressed to the person presented by the patron to a living. At a meeting of the congregation, summoned by order of the Presbytery, this call was laid down for signature by such of the members as chose, and the induction or ordination followed. At the time of which we are speaking this last was a matter of course, and the call had become such an unmeaning form, that it was held sufficient if the smallest minority of a congregation, viz., one or two members, appended their names to it. Amongst the people, however, the exercise of patronage had always been an unpopular thing, and when a party arose in the General Assemby who boldly declared that the subscription of a call by the majority of a congregation was necessary to authorise an induction a doctrine which the civil courts held to be an invasion of the rights both of patron and presentee-a large majority of the laity gave it their cordial assent. The popular excitement on the subject was greatly augmented, as we have said, by the voluntary controversy, which overspread Scotland, and com bined in its favour not merely Dissenters of all names, but so invaded the Establishment itself, that petitions to Parliament for the separation of Church and State were subscribed by Churchmen in thousands, who sighed after the ecclesiastical freedom they deemed invaded by patronage and intrusion. on Gradually, the Non-intrusion party became a majority in the General Assembly; an issue partly brought about by the introduction to seats of a large number of ministers belonging to chapels of ease, to whom ecclesiastical districts were assigned-termed parishes quoad sacra, to distinguish them from the old parishes, quoad civilia, the latter only having glebe and tithe legally provided for them. One of the earliest acts of the new majority was to pass the veto law, which made it an instruction to the Presbyteries, that if the major part of the male heads of families, members of the vacant congregation, disapproved of the person presented by the patron, such disapproval should be sufficient for the Presbytery to reject such person. The civil and ecclesiastical courts were thus brought into a position of direct antagonism-the former affirming the rights of patrons, the latter the rights of the people to exercise a veto patronage and they only waited an occasion to come into actual collision. The occasion presented itself. Lord Kinnoul, as patron, presented a Mr. Young to the vacant parish of Auchterarder. The majority of heads of families vetoed him, and the Presbytery in consequence refused to proceed with his induction, and set aside the presentation. Lord Kinnoul and Mr. Young appealed to the Scottish judges, who declared the veto illegal, and ordered the Presbytery to take the usual steps for the examination of Mr. Young and his induction, if they found him qualified. The Church forthwith ap pealed to the House of Lords, and that House confirmed the sentence of the judges. The Presbytery persisted in their refusal, and for awhile both parties stood still, with bated breath, waiting for the next move. At length the aggrieved parties sued the Presbytery for legal damages, and these were awarded, first by the Scottish court, and next, on appeal, by the House of Lords. The case of Strathbogie pre Mr. sented some different features. Edwards, the presentee, being vetoed by the heads of families, the majority of the Presbytery (unfavourable to the proceedings of the General Assembly), nevertheless persisted in inducting him, for doing which they were first suspended and then deposed by the Church; but, under the shelter of the civil courts, continued to exercise their office, to receive their stipends, and to transact business as a Presbytery. The tone of the General Assembly was one of the sternest determination, and various attempts were made by the Government and persons of influential position in Scottish society to reconcile differences that now began to threaten nothing less than a disruption of the Kirk. In the first place, a compromise was proposed by Lord Aberdeen, but rejected by the Assembly. Sir George Sinclair next tried his hand and failed. The last attempt made was by the Duke of Argyll, whose bill recognised the law of patronage, but modified its exercise, and in some measure adopted the principle of the veto. This measure obtained the sanction of the Church, but it failed to become the law of the land, and the hope of reconciliation being thus lost, it became evident that matters must proceed to extremities. The Non-intrusion party now began to talk loudly of secession, and the institution of a free Presbyterian Church. In the preparations for this great event, Dr Chalmers, who had been throughout the life and soul of the struggle made by his party, took the lead. The financial and other arrangements which were made for the organisation and support of the new Church were chiefly his own work. On the 20th March, the special commission of the Assembly announced, "with the utmost pain and sorrow, the decisive rejection of the Church's claims by the Government and by Parliament, as conclusive of the present struggle," and pronounced their deliberate judgment, that no course would be left for the Assembly to adopt but to relinquish the benefits of the Establishment. The 18th of May-a day ever-memorable in the annals of the Scottish Kirk-was appointed for the opening of the Assembly. The galleries were crowded by an expectant auditory in the Church of St. Andrew's. The Lord High Commissioner, the Marquis of Bute, proceeded from the palace of Holyrood with regal pomp, and, heralded by the sound of martial music, took his seat on the throne of majesty. The leaders of the movement began to enter the sacred edifice, and as there appeared conspicuous in their midst the fine intellectual face and massive form of Chalmers, followed by Welsh, Candlish, and other worthies, the church rang with the shouts of the multitude. The plan of proceeding was fully arranged by previous concert, and the members advanced gravely and silently to their seats. Dr. Welsh, the Moderator of the previous year, according to usual custom, took the chair, and having constituted the meeting by prayer, rose amid deathlike stillness,-himself pale and agitated with the emotions of the hour,-and proceeded to read a protest signed by all the Ministers and elders of his party. This done, he quitted his place with great solemnity of manner, and, hat in hand, with a firm and decided step, moved towards the door. At first a loud cheer burst from the gallery, but as instantaneously a silence deep as death followed. The first to tread in the steps of the Moderator was Thomas Chalmers, venerable from his years, and illustrious from his talents,-loved for his amiability, as much as he was respected for his powers, and revered for his piety. Tears visibly chased each other down the furrowed cheeks of the great good man as he made the hard sacrifice of position and association for conscience' sake. It must have been a heart sterner than his, to have gone forth unmoved from the walls that had so often echoed to his lofty eloquence, and, at one blow, severed himself from a Church in whose bosom he had been reared, and to whose service his manhood had been given. He left behind him imperishable memories, and carried to other scenes and new fields of labour his purity of principle, and his unsullied honour. Four abreast there followed him through the streets of Edinburgh a third of the ministers of the Scottish Kirk, and they the very élite of its clergy, in respect of ability, learning, piety, and public spirit. A vast crowd welcomed them without, and the houses they passed were filled from basement to roof with citizens who loudly cheered the seceders, the ladies waving their handkerchiefs as in the enthusiasm of a public triumph. So they proceeded on their way to a hall in Cannon Mills, where other ministers, not members of the Assembly, and a crowded audience were awaiting their arrival. Amid the acclamations of three thousand persons, Chalmers was chosen the first Moderator of "The Free Presbyterian Church of Scotland," Dr. Welsh proposing him as one on whom the eyes of every individual in that assembly,-the eyes of the whole Church and country,-the eyes of all Christendom,-were directed." Dr. Chalmers delivered a speech, eloquent of course, but in some respects betraying an uneasy consciousness of the awkwardness of his new position, and affording ground for much animadversion out-of-doors. Remembering his antecedents as the chosen champion of the Establishment principle,-much of what he had said in behalf of which, his actions were now so splendidly refuting, he carefully repudiated the title of a "Voluntary," and said, that although they quitted a vitiated Establishment, they would rejoice to return to a pure one. As far as the practical efficiency of Voluntaryism, however, was concerned, Chalmers had little reason to speak against it. At this first meeting of the new Assembly, he was enabled to report these items from the financial section; viz., that £150,341 had been collected for the building fund, and £72,687 for the sustentation fund, making a total of £223,028. He afterwards announced an addition of £4,000 to this sum since the previous day. In fact, so freely did contributions flow in for all the purposes of the Free Church, that the Doctor at length good-humouredly confessed himself in the situation of the man boring for water and sceptical of finding any, on whom it presently burst with an abundance that not only effectually relieved his doubts, but threatened to overwhelm him. Losing, in consequence of his secession, the Divinity Chair of the University of Edinburgh, Dr. Chalmers became Principal and Professor of Theology in the New College of the Free Church. Here he pursued the same course he had been accustomed to do in the University; and in the duties of his office as Professor, and in continued oversight of the interests of the Free Church, the remaining years of his life were passed. Called to London, at the close of his fourth session, to give evidence before the site-committee, appointed by Parliament to inquire into grievances complained of, in consequence of the refusal of some landowners to grant or sell sites for the erection of churches, he took advantage of the opportunity to revisit some old friends in different parts of England. Having accomplished this, much to his own delight, he returned home, apparently in his accustomed health, and in buoyant spirits, on the 28th of May. On the following Sabbath he attended Divine service, and retired to rest at his usual hour, without complaint, but on the Monday morning it was found that his spirit had passed peacefully away. The immediate cause of death was disease of the heart. He On the following Friday, the 5th of June, his remains were interred in the New Cemetery, at Grange, near Edinburgh. The circumstances attending the ceremony were impressive. was followed to the grave by a procession extending a mile in length. All Scotland assisted at the mourning, for from every part some pilgrims came to drop a last tear on the coffin of the illustrious dead. Men of every school and creed-the clergy of all sects, the disciples of all forms-and politicians, and worldly men, who pretended not to religion at all-stood side by side, and exchanged mute glances as they thought, A great man has gone from amidst us. So deep a hold had he taken on the mind of his nation, and so spontaneous the homage it paid him. Chalmers' mind was naturally speculative, but he had still greater adaptation for active usefulness. In his astronomical discourses, his imagination soared on strong pinions, amongst the unknown worlds that people space; but these were occasional flights, the pastimes of a poetic temperament. His work was in the pauper management of a city parish, the superintendence of a ragged school, the house-to-house visitation of a suffering flock; or, in another epoch of his life, the earnest administrations of the lecture-room, the debates of the Assembly, and the direction of popular movements. Here he bore the sweat and toil of life; ever in action, and his action ever taking the shape of benevolence. For nothing was he more remarkable than his power of winning the confidence of those about him, and of imparting to them his own enthusiasm. His expe riment in the parish of St. John's succeeded simply because he got his deacons to act with him, bringing heart and hand into the cause. It was this that enabled him to carry the Free Church through its birth-throes. His influence as a leader was unbounded. Men had unlimited faith in his power, his sagacity, and his earnestness. With him at their head, they had no thought of defeat or disaster, and when they followed him out of St. Andrew's Church, on the 23d May, leaving stipend and status behind them, no misgivings of the future made their steps unsteady. The six hundred Ministers of the secession no doubt had faith in their principles, but they had at least equal faith in Chalmers. Few men could kindle enthusiasm as he did. Perhaps the secret of his success was the earnestness and steadiness with which he always pursued some immediate object. He could not be content to lay a slow foundation for after ages to build upon. His very impulsive ness rendered him impatient of results. With extraordinary avidity for exertion, he combined unvarying directness of aim. Some men will plant the acorn and be content to think that the spreading branches of the oak will overshadow generations to come. Chalmers was dissatisfied until he saw the work of his hands. Hence his great influence was quickly felt in every sphere of action he filled. That, in a greater degree than is the case with men who labour more for the future, much of that influence has passed away with himself, must be admitted. Even his writings have very greatly a present rather than a universal adaptation. He was moved by whatever of stirring interest passed before him, and was too impetuous to be a noncombatant. Hence the controversial element that pervades nearly all his lectures and sermons, which are addressed not so much to the unchanging attributes, as to the passing phases of truth. It would seem, indeed, that all writings which are chiefly adapted for permanent influence must necessarily lack a peculiar fitness for any particular times. Chalmers lived in the present, worked for the present, and has left the ages that remain to find out men like him to serve them in their turn. Yet it were a mistake to suppose that his influence will quickly die out. The memory of his great example must live long; so must the vitality of the institutions he stamped with his impress. To all public men he has left the pattern of honesty, conscientiousness, and earnestness. To his followers in the ministry, the pattern of something more. He exercised his ministry, not only in the pulpit, but in every walk of practical usefulness. He la boured for the poor, to clothe and feed them; to lift them up in society; to promote their comfort and self-respect; as well as to train them in orthodoxy of faith. The antagonism of classes, the perplexing problems of society moved his great heart. Men loved as much as they admired him. Great-hearted he was, and warmhearted too. Adopting the tenets of a severe theology he was yet singularly catholic in spirit. Like his person, his style was massive; his diction and his imagery alike grand and imposing, rather than marked by the nicer and more delicate graces. As a writer he was diffuse, often wearisome, pursuing his illustrations of an idea until patience becomes exhausted, and even the charm of his eloquence ceases to please. But his very faults were the faults of greatIf he sins against literary tastes, none but a man of transcendent genius could so sin. ness. PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. IT has been said, there is great likelihood, if we knew it rightly, that the kindred and ancestry of most notable persons have been in some respects notable before them: the Vaucluse fountain, that gushes forth as a river, may well be conceived to have run some space under ground before it found an outlet. But, whether this may be taken as a rule or not, there would seem to be some exceptions; or, at any rate, the case of Shelley looks like an exception. His grandfather was a fortune-hunter, a political intriguer, and degenerated at last into a miser. His father was not much better. He is described as being a disciple of Chesterfield in manners, and of Rochefaucauld in morals; a man nowise remarkable for exalted principles, personal endowments, or individual excellency of character. Rather a shallow, not very estimable person; but, nevertheless, a man of accredited "respectability," inasmuch as he was born to inherit large estates in Sussex, and to be known among men as Sir Timothy Shelley, of Goring Castle, in that county. Not a particle of genius, not any superabundance even of common sense, had this man to make him in any degree memorable or respected. Had he not been the father of a noble and highly-gifted son, he could have had no interest for us here, and, at this date, would have hardly been remembered. The poet appears to owe nothing to his parentage, neither on the side of his father nor of his mother. One might say there was no real relationship, no natural sympathy between him and them. It would seem that as the wind bloweth where it listeth, and you cannot tell whence or how it cometh, so oftentimes, in the advent and avatar of genius, the gifted are sent to us from places where no tokens had been given of the dawning of their presence. Percy Bysshe Shelley came into the world at Field Place, in Sussex, on the 4th of August, 1792. He was a gentle and somewhat pensive child, with a decided inclination from the first for solitary and contemplative pastimes. He probably depicted a phase of his own childhood in the eclogue of "Rosalind and Helen " : The bright boy beside her feet In his earliest years, his sole companions were his sisters, all of whom were older than himself. A Welsh clergyman, named Edwards, a worthy, but rather feeble-minded man, had been engaged to give lessons in something to these sisters, and thus it fell to him, as by natural position, to instruct the boy also in the first elements of letters. How far along the highway of knowledge the good parson conducted him does not appear, perhaps only a very little way; for, at ten years of age, we find him sent to a school called Zion House, at Brentford. The transition from the society and carresses of his sisters to the company of rude and knowing boys-" chiefly the sons of London shopkeepers "—was to Shelley's sensitive and imaginative nature, in a high degree painful and perplexing. Captain Medwin says that Zion House was a perfect hell to him. A quiet, retiring, most delicate young soul, thus cast suddenly into such a riotous, whirling pandemonium, as "about sixty school-fellows," crowded together in a small establishment were competent to make of it, was not likely to find his situation very pleasant or endurable. On the day of his arrival, the fellows tormented him with all sorts of questionings. Could he play at marbles, pegtop, or hopscotch? Was a knowledge of cricket, or the game of fives within the range of his accomplishments? Did he feel himself competent to undertake a spell at leapfrog? Had he any capacity for sparring? Did he find himself in a condition to run a race? To all which, and other similar interrogatories, poor Shelley could reply only by a simple negative; and, as a consequence, the sole welcome he received was a shout of unmistakeable derision. This impertinence he did not condescend to notice; but, with a look of disdain upon his countenance," turned silently away, and when he was alone sought the relief which there is in tears. And so it continued for many days and months. Shelley, indeed, never brought himself to associate with his schoolfellows. On holidays, when they were all engaged in play-ground sports, he might be seen pacing backwards and forwards along the southern-wall of the enclosure, musing alone over wild and unhappy fancies. Medwin, who was at school with him, would sometimes join him in his walk, and listen to the tale of his longings and his sorrows. 66 In the school-room, Shelley was not particularly attentive to his tasks; but he, nevertheless, soon surpassed all his competitors, by force of a tenacity of memory which never forgot a word once turned up in his dictionary. His regular studies, however, were irksome |