kindness had been evident, and whose friendship we had valued --but who, because of the poisonous breath of 'viperous slander,' had suddenly become so cold as to freeze the heart. To us this was galling, and we felt it keenly, because such a state of things existed, and because we feared lest our desired usefulness had been lessened in proportion as the preventible suffering had thereby been increased. And the thoughts likely to arise in connection with such a conviction-based on sad experience—were not altogether driven from our minds when this letter came to hand. But lately restored from the bed of affliction, every penny gone, no income, and forsaken by nearly all with whom I had previously co-operated in labours of love, some having done so intentionally-first, because of the dangerous nature of the fever, and then because it left me poor and helpless. To others who were above such causes, especially the latter, we were lost because we crept out of the way. This was evident from what such did for us after they found us in the hovel. But though some of the salt of the earth, those with whom faith, hope, and charity were more than mere words, had once more favoured me with their warm sympathy; yet the chilling trail of the crushing effects of poverty was there. I could not help feeling that the pale face, the feeble step and the sorry dress had something to do with not a few who passed by on the other side, as if I had committed some crime, while God knew I was the same man in faith, hope and charity as when we met on the platform or in the committee-room —perhaps, after all, a little nearer God—at least as anxious as ever to serve Him.

"Such slights, I fear, were the result of poverty, and slander on the part of the wicked and the thoughtless-the latter adhering too rigidly to the Scotch saying, 'There must be water where the stirk is drowned.' Hence I rejoiced in this letter, and was thankful because of the 'Scotch caution' of our good Queen in making inquiries,' and because Her Majesty was

graciously pleased to bear testimony that the inquiries made 'proved perfectly satisfactory.'

"But there is another reason why I put special value on this letter. In its way it was one of the stepping-stones to London. With me, worshipping rank and titles as such, goes against the grain. I admit and admire the manifestations of well-sustained rank; but history has shown that high station may become a great power for mischief, as it always does when true principle is absent. Hence it is a source of delight and comfort to all concerned when grace and glory are blended; when those in high places prove that by God's help the august and the serene may be united; when true moral greatness gives that pleasing, placid dignity which befits one in authority and fills the people with confidence-leading on and up to that general and sincere admiration which our Queen enjoys-because of her personal virtues, and because she is a true woman as well as a careful Sovereign. Hence a confiding people take notice of and delight in the smaller things of common life as well as the greater things of State; and no doubt this accounted partly for the increasing interest which the Press-from the Court Circular to the local journal-took in the little book. At all events, it led many to read it a second time; and one of those who did so was the Editor of the Witness, who was so interested in the autobiography that he sent a copy to his friend in London, and so formed another link in the events which latterly led me on from the capital of Scotland to the capital of England-a result which could not have been anticipated, but which clearly shows that a gracious Providence is pleased to bless the right use of the proper means-even the ordinary human instrumentality."

A PASSING REMARK.

"Who can tell the worth of timely help-what it may do for good, or what evil it may prevent? Many, even of the

honest poor, have missed their way, and some have fallen, from the want of the necessary assistance at the proper time. And, alas when they do fall, how few, even of the virtuous, rise again? Help may come too late, or the proffered assistance may not be suitable. Let those who have the power to help, think, and think in time."

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These are thoughtful words drawn from sad experience. They bring the reader back to the time when he found he was too little to be a policeman," and could not find work more suited to his mind and training. Certainly it would have been a ridiculous sight to see our friend arrayed in "long overcoat," mounted with clear buttons, doing duty as a Beadle; but it would not have been much more out of place—though, perhaps, much less congenial-than Burns serving as a Gauger. Notwithstanding the boasted advance of our day, and its affected readiness to assist aspirants in their upward way, it is to be feared that cases of hard struggling and ill-requited merit-such as that before us—are probably not much less numerous than they were in the poet's time.

Doubtless this, like much that is wrong, rises more from "the want of thought than the want of heart." Some seem to imagine that patronage in every form is an evil-restraining power and deadening genius. From this we beg leave to differ. It certainly goes in the teeth of the practice of many communities. In Germany and in France, far more than in Britain, genius and worth have become the pass-port to wealth and honour. Nor do we believe this has tended to degrade the possessorsit has certainly given them more leisure, and led to more elaborate and useful undertakings. For instance, what a contrast between Burns dying in neglect, and ere he had reached the prime of life, in his poor Dumfries hovel, and Goethe-in nature inferior in some points to his-living long, loaded with honours, and allowed to complete his culture and his splendid poems. Was Milton, whose excellence was of the very highest

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order, a whit the worse for being promoted by Cromwell? Do we reward with large fortunes and splendid titles our Wellingtons-men of great powers, but who seem to a large class of the community little else than magnificent homicides-and shall we haggle about paltry sums to the benefactors of the species? How many-like the late excellent Dr Dick, of Broughty Ferry-have been compelled by narrow circumstances to part for a trifle with the copyright of valuable works? We are sure all who knew the "Christian Philosopher" were glad to hear of his receiving a slice, however small, of the Queen's pension money.

In saying this, we do not mean that our friend's case had in it a marked parallel to the cases given. He was yet young in years and struggling to rise. He had advanced somewhat, but had not risen to eminence sufficient to demand attention. Yet, as one not only in "the pursuit of knowledge under difficulties," but also anxious to give himself to that sphere of life so much wanted in that proud city, and every large city, surely it was sad to see him so often disappointed and suffering so severely. And this the more so, when we know how little it required to help him to rise to increasing usefulness. The least help to ease the burden and the oppressed one rebounds.

CHAPTER XVII.

THOUGHTS ON LEAVING FOR LONDON.

THE THOUGHT OF PARTING WITH HOME AND FRIENDS.

THE invitation came, Mr Wilson having sent to say that a very suitable sphere was open if Mr Hillocks could find his way to London that week; so there was no time to spare. He says: "It nearly took my breath away. I was almost choked with mingled emotions-because of the invitation, and the difficulty of getting away. It was soon very evident that our circumstances would not permit Mrs Hillocks and our children then to accompany me to London; and the thought of leaving them behind pressed heavily on my mind.

"This may be called mere sentimentality, and I have no wish to question the statement. As has been said, 'one might have supposed that all such emotional tenderness' might have been lashed out of me ere this. Not so, however. One of the effects of the 'lashing' seemed to rouse rather than subdue such emotions; and, perhaps, never before were the strength of the family feelings more evident than now. I ever believed, with the poet, that

'To make a happy fireside clime

For weans and wife,

Is the true pathos and sublime

Of human life.'

Along with the wish to be able to help the helpless, strengthen the weak, and raise the fallen, had grown the ever-present