Ewing join himself, but he rather belonged to a new sect, called "Missionaries,” whose work it was simply to preach Christ, and who had as yet formed no churches. Shortly, however, his services were required in the interesting work of uniting into an organised church, the believers who met for worship at the CirIts principles were purely Congregational, and Mr James

Haldane was ordained its pastor.

Meanwhile, a pastoral admonition was addressed by the General Assembly to all the people under their charge, stigmatising the itinerant preachers as authors of confusion and anarchy. The last days were said to have arrived, in which "perilous times were to come, when many false teachers should arise, scoffers walking after their own lusts, and when men should turn away their ears from the truth." Ah! often would the icy hand of ecclesiastical authority have frozen, if it could, the burning lips of Christian charity! But the work is of God, and no decrees of synods or church courts can stop its progress.

The Tabernacle at Glasgow was ready, and Mr Ewing prepared himself to part from the friends whom he had known so long and loved so well, for that large and influential sphere, where the matured strength of his manhood was to be expended; where his brow was to become wrinkled with thought, and finally his hair to grow white with the snow of age. He first preached within the walls of the Glasgow Tabernacle on July 28th, from the words, "Thy people shall be willing in the day of thy power." The place held 3000 people, and hundreds went away for want of room. The sermon was solemn and affecting; the attention of the multitude was fixed upon the preacher; when suddenly a terrible rush was heard, and there arose an unaccountable alarm that the building was giving way. Through the pressure of the crowd struggling to escape from the fancied danger, some limbs were broken, but no lives were lost. The superstitious might probably look on this as an ill omen. We fancy we hear them saying-This comes of forsaking the church of your fathers; it is but the displeasure of heaven hedging up the way of a man who wilfully wanders from the path of duty. But in this far off world of dim vision and seeming contradictions, we are not left to gather the will of God from his providence alone. The book of providence not seldom presents a dark page which puzzles many.

"No man knoweth either love or hatred by all that is

before him. All things come alike to all: there is one event to the righteous and to the wicked."

The panic at the Tabernacle was soon appeased, and a large congregation made it their weekly resort. Most of these were gathered from the highways and hedges, though a few were tempted to leave other ministers in the town. Dr Balfour showed a spirit worthy to be imitated by all the pastors of our churches, when, on being asked if he was not grieved at the loss of one of his friends, he replied, "That may be the case; but though it be a loss to me, it is none to him."

In truth, it was a privilege of the highest order to attend on preaching like that of Mr Ewing. His expositions of Scripture, from his minute regard to the text and to the context, were as instructive as his appeals to the conscience were touching and impressive. The writer has learned from one who at that time was his regular hearer, that his eloquence was impassioned, and his pathos overwhelming. But the flame of his piety was not deadened by the mephitic vapour of popular applause. "I never," says one of his students, "saw in any other preacher so much of the abiding expression of true humility. I had con. siderable opportunities of observing this when under his tuition; being frequently brought by him into the pulpit to read the scriptures. On these occasions I generally met him in the vestry, much impressed in the prospect of preaching. On one occasion of this kind he said to me,' Read this chapter, it is the best that the people will get. The word of God is good and perfect. Oh! what sad work do we make of our preaching!' At another time, observing me looking at him, and probably supposing that I felt concern on seeing him cast down, he said, 'I never go to preach without much feeling. It is a solemn work; I must feel, and I should not like to be without such feelings.""

Ah! who can depict the watchfulness, the anxiety, the sorrow, of which every right-minded minister must be conscious? The precious seed he scatters does not always bear increase. And, looking round on the bare waste which he has long toiled to cultivate, the question will arise-Is it that I have been a slothful servant, or that God, in his sovereignty, has shut the windows of heaven? Little does the selfish Christian know of these sleepless cares. Who is he that remains, thoughtful and dis

satisfied, at the conclusion of the services of the sabbath, fain to call back the throng that are busily separating for their respective homes, to offer them an additional remark, and add yet another plea? It is the faithful minister. And who is he, that on a Sabbath night, in the still hour given to wearied man for silence and rest-when all around are locked in slumber-when even the heart that, under his powerful appeal, has been rent in anguish, or broken into penitence and submission, is wrapt in unconsciousness of joy or sorrow,—who is he, whose eye cannot sleep, and to whose head the pillow yields no repose? It is the faithful minister, who fears lest, in the engagements of that day, now irrevocably fled into the past eternity, he may have darkened counsel by words without knowledge, or may have failed to let down the net into those deep waters, where the perishing might have been drawn in and saved. Such was the experience of Mr Ewing, and such is the experience, in a greater or less degree, of all who yield themselves to the work of Christ. "Who is sufficient for these things ?”

In the following year, a church was formed in the Tabernacle at Glasgow, which maintained, according to the custom of apostolic times, the weekly observance of the Lord's supper. Never, in the course of Mr Ewing's ministry, did more than one person, on being admitted to communion, state his disapprobation of the practice, and so completely were his objections silenced by the trial of it, that they never influenced him to absent himself from the table of the Lord. The plan is still pursued among the Scottish Independents, and well would it be for the churches in England, if they too would thus honour the dying institution of their Saviour.

In the midst of his popularity and of his usefulness, Mr Ewing was called to follow to the grave his second wife, the mother of his only child. On a Sabbath morning, the weeping husband closed the eyes of his best earthly friend; and, as the afternoon drew nigh, he " arose from the earth," like David of old, “and changed his apparel," and, firm of step and sad in heart, came out from the chamber of death, to meet his people round the sacramental board. None who were present can forget that day. It seemed that the eyes of the people were turned upon their pastor, as if to say, "Thou art bereaved;" and his silent sorrow made answer, "Yea, I know it; hold ye your peace." After an

inward conflict, which robbed him for a while of his wonted self-control, he burst forth into an eloquent and solemn appeal to his unconverted hearers. "Ah!" said he, "how will you be supported when your friends are removed by death? Your rock is not as our rock, our enemies themselves being judges. 'The wicked is driven away in his wickedness, but the righteous hath hope in his death."" Slow and sad was his next journey to Edinburgh, when she who but a while ago had left that place in bridal gaiety, in the promise of youthful health and in the bloom of youthful grace, was borne to the damp grave. And yet Greville Ewing answered to his father-in-law's tender inquiries, "All is well."

Amongst the occasional attendants at the Edinburgh Circus, when it was first opened, was a young lady, destined to exert, in after life, no inconsiderable influence on the spiritual condition of her country. It was not to enjoy intellectual gratification, though she was intellectual-it was not to mingle in the society of the wealthy and honoured, although both wealth and honour had distinguished her by their smiles-that Barbara Maxwell had found her way to the metropolis of Scotland in the October of 1798. The reading of Doddridge's "Rise and Progress" had been rendered instrumental in convincing her of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment, and, through the teaching of the Holy Spirit, she had received Christ Jesus the Lord. Some pamphlet relating to the itineracies of Messrs Haldane, Aikman, and Rait had found its way to Ardgowan, the seat of her fatherin-law, Sir John Shaw Stewart, and had fanned within her the missionary flame, which had already spontaneously risen from her own warm love to the Saviour. At Edinburgh it was possible that she might see these holy men-she might perchance hear them preach-she might receive from their own lips the history of their errands. To Edinburgh she accordingly came, and the event was as she had hoped. Having slaked her spirit's thirst in the streams of holy philanthropy which there mingled, she returned to her country home, and devoted herself to the religious instruction of the people. They were ignorant, and contented in their ignorance; and, in her anxiety on their account, she wrote to Mr Ewing for preachers to come and rouse them from their sleep of death.

This excellent lady became Mr Ewing's third and last wife.

satisfied, at the conclusion of the services of the sabbath, fain to call back the throng that are busily separating for their respective homes, to offer them an additional remark, and add yet another plea? It is the faithful minister. And who is he, that on a Sabbath night, in the still hour given to wearied man for silence and rest-when all around are locked in slumber-when even the heart that, under his powerful appeal, has been rent in anguish, or broken into penitence and submission, is wrapt in unconsciousness of joy or sorrow,—who is he, whose eye cannot sleep, and to whose head the pillow yields no repose? It is the faithful minister, who fears lest, in the engagements of that day, now irrevocably fled into the past eternity, he may have darkened counsel by words without knowledge, or may have failed to let down the net into those deep waters, where the perishing might have been drawn in and saved. Such was the experience of Mr Ewing, and such is the experience, in a greater or less degree, of all who yield themselves to the work of Christ. "Who is sufficient for these things ?"

In the following year, a church was formed in the Tabernacle at Glasgow, which maintained, according to the custom of apostolic times, the weekly observance of the Lord's supper. Never, in the course of Mr Ewing's ministry, did more than one person, on being admitted to communion, state his disapprobation of the practice, and so completely were his objections silenced by the trial of it, that they never influenced him to absent himself from the table of the Lord. The plan is still pursued among the Scottish Independents, and well would it be for the churches in England, if they too would thus honour the dying institution of their Saviour.

In the midst of his popularity and of his usefulness, Mr Ewing was called to follow to the grave his second wife, the mother of his only child. On a Sabbath morning, the weeping husband closed the eyes of his best earthly friend; and, as the afternoon drew nigh, he " arose from the earth," like David of old, “and changed his apparel," and, firm of step and sad in heart, came out from the chamber of death, to meet his people round the sacramental board. None who were present can forget that day. It seemed that the eyes of the people were turned upon their pastor, as if to say, "Thou art bereaved;" and his silent sorrow made answer, "Yea, I know it; hold ye your peace." After an