the Scotch mind, and has given rise in succession to all the different secessions from the Kirk. To carry this comprehensible objection on into the doctrinal claim of complete independence for the Church, and to represent every interference of the State, even in respect to its own loaves and fishes, as an infringement upon the supreme sway and "Headship" of our Lord, was no doubt a logical carrying out of the original sentiments of the Church of Scotland, and in harmony with much of her polemical history; and there was a loftiness in the claim and a splendour in the sacrifice by which it was finally sealed, which carried away many fervid imaginations, and none more than the then very youthful writer of these pages. But I cannot think they could ever have had much weight with Tulloch, whose mind was singularly free from, and indeed impatient of, all prejudice in favour of ecclesiastical power. Such claims were offensive to him in his full maturity, and at no time could he have had much sympathy with them. Born in and trained for the Church, and serving her with his best gifts all his life, sacerdotalism of every kind was always an offence to him. He had perhaps less feeling on this point than was desirable. He claimed no right to rule in the name of Christ, and assumed no mediatory place as between God and His people. He was essentially and from the beginning a ministrant of the great truths which were in the hands of all, and of which it was every man's duty to judge for himself.

Thus his years of education passed lightly away, not made so much of as they might have been, with no enthusiastic pursuit of knowledge, but a cheerful development, tempered by all the pleasantnesses of youth. Such portions of the long summer as were spent at home in the Perthshire manse, permitted a great deal of reading, and a considerable acquaintance with the rural world about, of all classes, which no doubt helped to form him for the influence which he

CLOSE OF COLLEGE DAYS.

21

afterwards exercised so largely, the knowledge of men and life and universal sympathy which made him what he was. In the next chapter of opening life he himself appears in the letters which happily so many of his correspondents, and above all his wife, the constant recipient of all his thoughts and confidences, have preserved.

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CHAPTER II

THE BEGINNING OF LIFE.

A PORTION of the spring of 1843 was spent by young Tulloch at St Andrews, the place to which his inclinations seem always to have returned in every interval of freedom; and on this occasion there evidently took place the most important encounter in his life, and the most fortunate. It was not his first meeting, probably, with Miss Hindmarsh. Her family had spent some years in Perth, where she had been chiefly educated, and where her two beautiful sisters were known, I am told by a youthful contemporary, as the Fair Maids of Perth. She was too young at that time to have known, except as a child, the Tibbermuir boys; but there was probably acquaintance enough to make their meeting, when he came to St Andrews in all the satisfaction of his completed education, an easy one, ripening quickly into friendship-for friendship was all it was to be permitted to be in these early idyllic days. The young lady was but seventeen, the youth not twenty-one. No doubt they had many encounters in the freedom of the little society, in the Sunday walks upon the Links and rambles by the shore. "I knew her father, Mr Hindmarsh, one of the most polished of men," writes Dr Gray. "I attended his class for elocution for a short time, and even then wondered at the effects produced in reading by his clear insight into the meaning of the

A "FRIENDLY" CORRESPONDENCE.

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author, and a voice capable of giving expression to every mood and every variety of tone." Therefore it was in a house full of the talk and literary discussions he loved that the young man found the new influence which was to tell for so much in his life. He went home from St Andrews to Tibbermuir in the end of April; and immediately young John Tulloch opens up his heart and life, and becomes visible to us in an aspect different from that which he wears to his boyish companions-the tender and poetic side of his sensitive nature. The first letter of a series which concluded only with his life, and in which for more than forty years in every interval of separation, all his most intimate thoughts, feelings, and projects found vent, is dated the 23d of April 1843, on a Sunday evening, when he sits down to write to his dear Miss Hindmarsh, with what pleasure! He is all alone in his room-the bay-window open, the songs of the birds, linnets and thrushes and all the songsters of the grove, coming in.

To Miss Hindmarsh.

How emphatically such a Sabbath eve as this in the country is an eve of rest! All nature seems joyous and reposing. And yet I cannot overcome a sadness that comes over me when my thoughts revert to St Andrews, when I think of you, and how blest I would have been on such a night by your side. Oh, Miss Hindmarsh, what a change has come o'er the spirit of my dreams in a few days! Often when reading by myself, I fancy I could hear your voice saying, "Beautiful!" note your raised eyes beam interest, and your brow change with the changing story.

"I fear," he adds in alarm, "that I may have gone beyond the merely friendly capacity in which I agreed to correspond with you"-a fear which the reader will probably think justified. And it is evident that his shortcomings were pointed out to him in the reply, for he resumes in the next letter, in a much subdued and sedate tone, complaining indeed that "a strange, sad, bitter feeling" had come over him as he read her letter.

To Miss Hindmarsh.

But I deserve it for my imprudence. I have only to say I will obey you, I will write so no more; and with this promise you will pardon me.

You will probably have heard by this time, at least before this reaches you, of the awfully serious disruption that has taken place in the Church of Scotland. About 430 ministers-there will doubtless be more-have seceded from the Establishment, and renounced, or will renounce immediately, their manses, stipends, &c. God alone knows what are to be the consequences. The excitement through Scotland, in Edinburgh especially, has been extraordinary. Nothing else is talked of. Many are perfectly astonished at such a sacrifice for principle. Had I been ready I might have had, I daresay, my choice of a kirk. But it is better, after all, as it is. I am not ready seriously in many ways, besides that of not having completed the course of study. I have been considerably studious, but not nearly so much as I would like. My daily anxiety to hear the news of the Kirk has prevented that, and will still do so for some days; but then I must be up and doing. I have commenced German with my father, which I find easy and pleasant enough.

It will be seen from this, though he could not refrain from a certain deep-drawn breath of sympathy in the great event he describes, how entirely free was his own mind of any inclination to follow.

There follows much talk about books, especially the light literature of the time-a fine subject for a repressed lover. He has not been able, he says, to get 'Morley Ernstein,' which his correspondent had recommended to him ("there is almost no chance of finding one of James's in "), and therefore cannot tell which of the two heroines he likes best. "I will like the sweetest of them: sweetness is everything in woman," he says. And he proceeds to describe and criticise 'The Lady of Lyons,' then a recent production, quoting Claud Melnotte's description of his supposed Italian palace, under skies "as cloudless-as I would have thy fate." This is too much for the young man's philosophy. "Yes," he adds, "as I would have thy fate! God grant my prayer may be heard."