The Parliament of 1690 had invited the General Assembly of the Church to meet once more; and, on the 16th of October, the invitation the invitation was obeyed. Thirty-seven years had come and gone since Cromwell dispersed the last gathering of Presbyterian ministers and elders-years crowded with labors and sacrifices and griefs. As the members took their places in the old Assembly Aisle of St. Giles's Church, what visions they saw! what battles they fought anew! what scaffolds rose, stark and yet glorious, before the eyes of the mind! They could not forget that they had traveled. to their inheritance out of the house of bondage and through a land of pits and snares. It was natural and right that they should give their earliest sessions. to the exercises of solemn fasting and prayer, to meditation on the words and ways of God, and to adoring praise of Him who had led them so wondrously to the city of habitation.

Lord John Carmichael was the Commissioner of the King-a man prudent, intelligent, of quiet and equable temper. There were present, Principal Rule says, one hundred and sixteen ministers and forty-seven ruling elders. "For the age, piety, learning and gravity of the members," writes one who had his seat in the Assembly Aisle, "it is much to be doubted if they were not equal, if not superior, to any convocation of churchmen that ever were in Britain in our day." Men were there that had carried gun and sword at Rullion Green and Bothwell Bridge; men who bore branded on their bodies the marks of the rack

and the thumbscrew, and who could tell of the horrors of Dunnottar and the Bass; men on whose heads the Government of Charles and James had set a price, and who had been laid under the ban of intercommuning, so that it was a capital offence to let them have a morsel of food or to hide them from their pursuers. There was pathos in the meeting of these veterans of the faith, whose hair was grey and whose cheeks were furrowed. Yet there was much cheerfulness too. An old legend relates that Lazarus never smiled after he left his charnel-cave and returned to Mary's house; but, although they had passed through seven deaths, the Covenators had not forgotten how to smile. Like the Little Brothers of Assisi, they were the merry men of the Lord.

Hugh Kennedy was chosen their moderator. He was a Protester of the antique type, an early disciple, as was Mnason of Cyprus, the host of Cæsarea of St. Paul. Not one of the others who did not respect him for his saintly character and his well-tried attachment to the Kirk. He had been so keenly opposed to Prelacy that the Malignants nicknamed him "Bitter Beard." But they mistook the man altogether. His brethren assure us that his disposition was gentle and sweet and helpful, and that he brimmed over with pleasantry and good humour.

It was his nature

To blossom into song, as ti's a tree's
To leaf itself in April.

Round the Moderator some ministers are grouped, who have been with him

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in the crucible of affliction. One is old Gabriel Sempill of Jedburgh. He assisted when the Covenants were newed at the Town Hall of Lanark, in those wintry days of 1666 which saw the insurgents on their road to defeat at Pentland. He is, we remember, a gentleman by birth, being the son of Sir Bryce and the grandson of Lord Sempill. Often he has been the comrade of John Welsh and John Blackader in their adventures and deliverances and fieldpreachings; but, whilst they have gone to be with Christ in the upper sanctuary, he has escaped his perils "with the skin of his teath," and is eager to do his part in rebuilding the desolated and ruined Church. Eminently countenanced of God with success in the work of the Gospel" Gabriel Sempill has been; and he stands in the Assembly of 1690 with a vigor so unimpared that Thomas Boston, when he hears him speak in a yet later year, is compelled to marvel. "I was in a manner amazed," the listener confesses, "for his words went out through me and in through me, so that I said in my heart, Happy are those that hear thy wisdom!" The Conventicler's natural and supernatural force is not abated.

William Veitch sits not far away, the husband of heavenly-hearted Marion Veitch, and the friend who did his utmost for the Earl of Argyll. And, beside him, is his chief companion, Gilbert Elliot, who will be Lord Minto by and by and a judge on the Edinburgh bench. Once, when he was a young advocate, Elliot contrived to bring about Veitch's acquittal and to save his life. "Ah, Willie, Willie!" he whispers to him now, "had it no' been for me, the pyets had been piking your pate on the Netherbow Port!" But the shrewd minister has his retort ready. "Ah, Gibbie, Gibbie! had it no' been for me, ye would have been writing papers yet for a plack the page!" These are the quips and jests which enliven the Assembly's serious toil.

There, too, one can look up into the serene face of a man most gracious, whose name alone might fill St. Gile's Church with odors of spikenard-devout

and apostolic Thomas Hog of Kiltearn. We have not forgotten how, on the Bass, Archbishop Sharp was his good physician; but, indeed, nothing and no one could hurt Thomas Hog, for his life was hid with Christ in God. He spent whole nights in prayer; and to this day his sanctity is recalled in the north country, by those who love to meditate on the years of the right hand of the Most High. Four summers before the revolution took place, he predicted that the change was certain to come, sending this message to the Prince of Orange out of the distresses of the Killing Time: "Tell him that I have assurance of the Lord that, though the Church of Scotland is under a dark cloud now, yet it will be over quickly, and that he shall be the instrument of her enlarging and shall be King of these realms." Now his prophesy was realized, and his joy was full. The fidelity of the martyr accompanied him to the ending of his pilgrimage. He ordered his grave to be dug on the threshold of his Highland church, and on the tombstone he bade. them write the admonition: "This stone shall bear witness against the parishoners of Kiltearn, if they bring ane ungodly minister in here." The mightest transports moved and thrilled Thomas Hog.

A true spiritual brother of the saint was Henry Erskine; and he also was a participant in the debates and verdicts of the Assembly. Forty-five years later all Scotland would be ringing with the words and deeds of his sons, Ebenezer and

Ralph. To his preaching, too, Boston, "whose golden pen to future times will bear his name," ascribed, under God, the awakening of the new life in his soul. But Henry Erksine is worth knowing for his own sake. He had a great fortitude. When he stood before the Privy Council with the instruments of torture fastened on his hands, Sir George MacKenzie ordered him to preach no more at the meetings in the fields. But he would not be browbeaten. "My Lord," he replied, "I have my commission from Christ, and, though I were within an hour of my death, I durst not lay it down at the feet of any mortal man." There spoke

the stout confessor who feared his unseen Master so much that he felt no meaner fear. And he had a childlike faith. Once, in the cottage of Dryburgh, the meager stock of provisions were consumed at supper-time, and in the night the children awoke crying for bread. Their father had none to give them, but he trusted the better Father to send the supply. So meanwhile he took down his gittern, and played to the bairns, and comforted their mother with the promise of God. And erelong someone knocked peremptorily at the door, and a stranger on horseback left a bag stocked with food, and became surly when he was asked who he was and from which quarter he had come, and rode immediately away into the dark. Above Henry Erskine's head, let the weather be fair or foul to his neighbors, the sky was always blue. In his heart, every month of the twelve, the birds sang, and the flowers bloomed, and the river of the water of life made happy music.

These men of the Covenant were saints, "first and last and midst and without end." But there were members of Assembly somewhat different in their temperament, more politic and more courtly: Dr. Gilbert Rule, for example, the Principal of the University of Edinburgh, who was to distinguish himself in after years by his writings in defence of Presbytery; and David Blair, minister of the Old Church, son of the famous Resolutioner of St. Andrews and parent of the poet of The Grave. Rule's spirituality and Blair's was, no doubt, genuine; and yet it was not of that masterful and illimitable and unearthly sort which invested Hog and Erskine with the fragrance and the glory of the sons of God. There were threads of attachment which bound them tightly to the world of the seen and temporal.

The prince of this party, who was in constant attendance at the sitting in St. Giles, though he represented the Court in London rather than any congregation or Presbytery in Scotland, was William Carstares. "He surely," says a eulogist in the Coltness Collection, was one of the greatest clergymen who

ever embellished any church." And so, beyond question, he was. But the greatness is not altogether of the ethereal kind. The diplomatist was blended in Carstares with the disciple, the statesman with the Christian. His was a potent voice in Parliament, although he never sat in the legislative chamber. His was a prevailing and an unceasing influence with the King, although he wore the Genevia gown of an unpretending preacher. His father, John Carstares, had shown him a rare example of lifelong faithfulness, and he had himself undergone the agony of the thumbkins. But he was of a more modern school than the old Covenanter. The virtues of the resourceful man of affairs were united in his nature with those of the servant of Christ; courage and address, sagacity and wit and caution, patience and conciliatoriness and charity, moderation and tolerance. Many different estimates of him have been bequeathed to us by his contemporaries. "He is the cunningest dissembler in the world, with an air of sincerity," his ecclesiastical and political antagonists maintained. "Through all the vicissitudes of fortune," his friends replied, "he preserved the same humble spirit and simple worth, the same zealous piety, the same amiable and affectionate heart." "I have known him long," King William declared with a warmth which he did not often manifest. "I know him thoroughly, and I know him to be a truly honest man." One approaches a personality that bulks largely in the public view from the angel of hostility, or from the angel of reverence, or from the angel of intimate and brotherly fellowship, and how diverse the personality seems! It is a tribute to Carstare's real magnitude that he moved men to feelings so various and contradictory; a lesser soul would have not have appeared so kaleidoscopic. And, doubtless, there were elements of truth in all the portraitures.

He could do fearless things. On one occasion he risked the loss not only of his master's favor but of his own head. In 1694 the King wished to impose on the Church in Scotland terms which her

in the crucible of affliction. One is old Gabriel Sempill of Jedburgh. He assisted when the Covenants were renewed at the Town Hall of Lanark, in those wintry days of 1666 which saw the insurgents on their road to defeat at Pentland. He is, we remember, a gentleman by birth, being the son of Sir Bryce and the grandson of Lord Sempill. Often he has been the comrade of John Welsh and John Blackader in their adventures and deliverances and fieldpreachings; but, whilst they have gone to be with Christ in the upper sanctuary, he has escaped his perils "with the skin of his teath," and is eager to do his part in rebuilding the desolated and ruined Church. Eminently countenanced of God with success in the work of the Gospel" Gabriel Sempill has been; and he stands in the Assembly of 1690 with a vigor so unimpared that Thomas Boston, when he hears him speak in a yet later year, is compelled to marvel. "I was in a manner amazed," the listener confesses, "for his words went out through me and in through me, so that I said in my heart, Happy are those that hear thy wisdom!" The Conventicler's natural and supernatural force is not abated.

66

William Veitch sits not far away, the husband of heavenly-hearted Marion Veitch, and the friend who did his utmost for the Earl of Argyll. And, beside him, is his chief companion, Gilbert Elliot, who will be Lord Minto by and by and a judge on the Edinburgh bench. Once, when he was a young advocate, Elliot contrived to bring about Veitch's acquittal and to save his life. "Ah, Willie, Willie!" he whispers to him now, "had it no' been for me, the pyets had been piking your pate on the Netherbow Port!" But the shrewd minister has his retort ready. "Ah, Gibbie, Gibbie! had it no' been for me, ye would have been writing papers yet for a plack the page!" These are the quips and jests which enliven the Assembly's serious toil.

There, too, one can look up into the serene face of a man most gracious, whose name alone might fill St. Gile's Church with odors of spikenard-devout

and apostolic Thomas Hog of Kiltearn. We have not forgotten how, on the Bass, Archbishop Sharp was his good physician; but, indeed, nothing and no one could hurt Thomas Hog, for his life was hid with Christ in God. He spent whole nights in prayer; and to this day his sanctity is recalled in the north country, by those who love to meditate on the years of the right hand of the Most High. Four summers before the revolution took place, he predicted that the change was certain to come, sending this message to the Prince of Orange out of the distresses of the Killing Time. "Tell him that I have assurance of the Lord that, though the Church of Scot land is under a dark cloud now, yet will be over quickly, and that he sha be the instrument of her enlarging an shall be King of these realms." Now prophesy was realized, and his joy w full. The fidelity of the martyr a companied him to the ending of his grimage. He ordered his grave to dug on the threshold of his Highl church, and on the tombstone he b them write the admonition: "This st shall bear witness against the paris ers of Kiltearn, if they bring ane godly minister in here." The mig transports moved and thrilled Thi Hog.

A true spiritual brother of the was Henry Erskine; and he also v participant in the debates and ve of the Assembly. Forty-five years all Scotland would be ringing wi words and deeds of his sons, Eb and Ralph. To his preaching Boston, "whose golden pen to times will bear his name," ascribe der God, the awakening of the ne in his soul. But Henry Erk worth knowing for his own sak had a great fortitude. When li before the Privy Council with struments of torture fastened hands, Sir George MacKenzie him to preach no more at the in the fields. But he would not 1 beaten. "My Lord," he replied my commission from Chri though I were within an hor death, I durst not lay it dow feet of any mortal man." The