which I have in charge, even from all those that are here present, which is this: In the name of God, and of His Son Jesus Christ, and in the name of all that presently call you by my mouth, I charge you that you refuse not this holy vocation; but as you tender the glory of God, the increase of Christ's kingdom, the edification of your brethren, and the comfort of me, whom you understand well enough to be oppressed by the multitude of labours, that you take the public office and charge of preaching, even as you look to avoid God's heavy displeasure, and desire that He shall multiply His graces unto you.' The preacher then appealed to the congregation, 'Was not this your charge unto me? and do ye not approve this vocation ?' The unanimous reply swelled out, 'It was, and we approve it.'

Knox would not have been more startled if the voice of his martyred friend, George Wishart, had summoned him to the pulpit. He attempted to speak, but burst into tears, and rushing from the assembly, shut himself in his chamber. The man who, to use the fine saying of Grattan, came to interrupt the repose of the pulpit, and to shake one world with the thunder of the other,' was overwhelmed by the awful grandeur of the task to which he had been called, and for days was in such trouble that his friends could scarcely get a word from his lips. But he was not the man to shrink from duty because it was painful, and he soon had an opportunity of making known the truth more publicly than he could have done within the walls of the castle. Having engaged in a controversy with a priest, in which he wielded the Protestant arguments with great moral power and literary skill, the people of the town insisted on hearing him more fully in the parish church. He read part of one of Daniel's visions as his text, and after a concise explanation of the hieroglyphic beasts, showed that the king wearing out 'the saints of the Most High,' and thinking to 'change times and laws,' was the Popery described in the New Testament as the Man of Sin and the later Babylon. The sermon indicated a bold stride in the path of Reformation, for hitherto the Protestants of Scotland, while giving prominence to pure doctrine in opposition to Romish dogma, had not ventured to denounce the whole system as false and corrupt. Knox was convinced that the pulpit was his right place, and continued to preach in an energetic popular manner, winning many of the citizens from the seductions of Popery to the simplicity of the faith. He also assisted in the Lord's Supper the first time the service was conducted in Scotland according to the method of the Reformed Churches.

Leaving for the present the narration of some intervening events, we pass to the reign of the celebrated Mary Stuart, the widow of the French king, who landed in Scotland in August, 1561. Her personal beauty and

graceful manners, in connection with her early widowhood, her difficult position in Scotland, her long imprisonment in England, and the calm majesty she evinced when she 'bowed her comely head' on the block, have induced numbers to condone her faults, and to throw hard words against the memory of those who, for religious and patriotic reasons, opposed her designs. Knox especially has been censured for his harshness to the young Queen, but it is difficult to see how he could have acted in any other way, unless he had been willing to sacrifice the Reformation

to her bigoted Romanism. It was stipulated before she left France that she was to enjoy the private exercise of her religion, but she had the Chapel at Holyrood prepared for the public celebration of mass the first Sabbath after her arrival. This showed the Reformers what they might expect if they were not watchful, and Knox sounded the alarm by saying from his pulpit, that one mass was more terrible to him than a thousand enemies avowedly armed for the destruction of religion. It was not long before he was called to an interview with her, in which he told her very plainly what he thought of the Church to which she adhered, yet left her with the kindly remark, 'I pray God, Madam, that you may be as blessed within the Commonwealth of Scotland, as ever Deborah was in the Commonwealth of Israel.' In the second interview the high spirit of Knox, and the artifice of Mary, were more fully brought out. The Duke of Guise and the Cardinal of Lorraine having attacked and cruelly slaughtered a number of French Protestants who were peacefully assembled for worship, Mary, as if studiously bent on insulting and grieving her own Protestant subjects, celebrated the event by giving a splendid ball in Holyrood. On the following Sabbath, Knox boldly condemned the untimely revels of the palace, and denounced dancing at the misfortunes of God's people as a sin that would bring judgment on those who had taken part in it. An exaggerated report of the sermon was carried to Mary, and Knox was summoned to appear before her. He vindicated himself from the charge of treasonable speech by repeating the substance of his sermon. She admitted that she had been misinformed as to his words, but wished him to refrain from public censures a of her conduct, and to address his admonitions to her in private. Had the circumstances of the time been different, this would have been the proper course, but Knox knew that the Queen only wished to bind him to silence in the pulpit, that she might be able to practise her Popish acts with less fear of popular opposition. In reply to her proposal, he told her that if she wished to hear the doctrines he taught he would wait on her at her pleasure, but that neither his conscience nor his office would allow him to hang about the Court simply to whisper in her ear what people were thinking or saying as to her proceedings. She was angry with him, but leaving the room with a reasonable merry countenance,' he heard one of the Popish servants say, 'He is not afraid.' 'Why,' he asked, 'should the pleasing face of a gentilwoman afray me?? and added, I have luiked in the faces of mony angry men, and yit have not bene affrayed above measour.'

There were other conferences between Knox and the Queen, in one of which she thus angrily questioned him, 'What have you to do with my marriage? or what are you in this Commonwealth?' 'A subject

born within the same, Madam,' was his reply; and albeit I be neither earl, lord, nor baron in it, yet has God made me (how abject that ever I be in your eyes), a profitable member within the same. Yea, Madam, to me it appertains no less to forewarn of such things as may hurt it, if I foresee them, than it doth to any of the nobility; for both my vocation and conscience require plainness of speech.'

N

(To be concluded.)

'PRAY FOR ME, JACK.'

BY REV. J. COLWELL.

OBODY who ever lived within twenty miles of Squire Hawkins could fail to hear of him, while most of them would know him well. He belonged to the class known as gentlemen farmers.' He cultivated a large farm in the most approved fashion, employed a great number of labourers, kept a good table and a capital stud, treated everybody with off-hand frankness; and while he claimed the mastery everywhere, did it with a sort of dashing generosity which made him popular, while it gave him his own way.

He lived in a delightful spot. His farm consisted of meadow-lands, and orchards filled with fruit trees, set off by grain-growing flats, stretching far and wide. All the varieties of hill and dale, green grass and yellow corn, were spread around him, and he might have lived a very happy and useful life. Pleasant in a certain sense it was, but not useful in any sense whatever, if we except the fact that he contributed something to the material prosperity of the country, as did the horses and cows that grazed in his meadows.

His happiness was much the same as his usefulness-not very great, and mainly animal. He loved his farm, he enjoyed his food, he was exhilarated when on horseback, and in his highest paradise when hunting. He believed in politics, at least of his party; he went to church once every Sunday, and he knew as much of vital religion as the horse that carried him there. He rode to market regularly, was a very great man when there, and never came home sober. He believed in the Constitution,' and would have shot either Frenchman or Englishman who attacked it, with as little compunction as he felt in knocking over a rabbit, and would have exposed his own life in its defence as gaily as he attended a coursing match.

He would never go out of his way to hurt anybody, nor turn aside to prevent any one's being hurt. There was nothing like craftiness about him, or low cunning or meanness; he was a sort of human lion-dashing, hard, careless, selfish. Utterly devoid of sentiment, and profoundly ignorant of God, he lived as worldly a life as any man could easily live.

But, though his life was singularly free from religious influences, he did sometimes come under them. Here and there one of the farmers of the district had become a Methodist; in some of the villages around Methodist chapels had been built; and one man, who was a distant relation of his, was in the habit of entertaining the ministers, though he was an unconverted man. One Sunday Mr. Hawkins was asked to dine with his kinsman, and the Wesleyan minister and many others met him at the table of his host. When blessing had been asked, the host said to the minister, 'Shall I help you to a little beef?' 'No, thank you,' said the minister; 'I saw the butcher's man delivering it this morning, and if he broke the Sabbath in delivering it, and you in receiving it, I will not do so in eating it; I will take a little bread and cheese.' This reply fell like a bombshell; but being uttered in a quiet and respectful manner, and with the air of a man who felt he had a painful duty to perform, and must do it as gently as he could, it did its work. Whether it made any lasting impression on Mr. Hawkins or not we cannot say, but it led to the conversion of two farmers who sat at the table, one of whom afterwards became very useful as a Class Leader and Local Preacher. Incidents of this kind occasionally happening in a man's life are, at least, enough to check his thoughtlessness and remind him of God and of the reality of things unseen, and this must to some extent have been the case with the squire.

It made no apparent difference in him, however; he conducted himself as usual. He was never married, and no woman, save hired servants, ever lived in his house. Neither mother nor sister softened the roughness of his character by gentle home-influences; and the loss to him was great. But he had a companion, nevertheless. His married sister died, leaving children behind her, and Jack, the eldest, was offered a home under his uncle's roof. The offer was accepted. Mr. Hawkins soon loved and delighted in his nephew, and showed his love by making him his daily companion, until Jack was as sinful, as worldly, and as godless as the uncle himself. A change was now, however, to take place. One bright autumn morning Mr. Hawkins mounted his hunter and rode off with his gay companions, the gayest of them all. The weather was superb; the horses were in good trim; the hunters had a magnificent run, and in high spirits were returning home. But as Mr. Hawkins was just gaining sight of his house through the trees that surrounded it, his horse took fright, and making a sudden plunge, threw his rider heavily to the ground. The riderless steed dashed on, and arriving at home without its master, aroused the suspicion of the servants, who started on the 'trail.' They soon discovered what they sought. Lying on the ground-bleeding, senseless and almost dying