into an ante-room, I saw that cold water and
smelling-salts had been provided in anticipation
of such manifestations; and attendants were in
readiness to carry out those who might be
prostrated by the influence of the "truth." The
two young gentlemen who were announced to
conduct the exercises did not arrive at the
appointed time, and the people went on singing O,
revive us, until they made their appearance. I
was not a little astonished to find that one of
them was the very young man who had read a
portion of the service at the Episcopal chapel in
the morning. The other young man was his
brother, and I was informed that they were
nephews of a laird. The exercises began with
what was called "prayer;" but a stranger to the
particular manner of supplication would have
thought that it was a boisterous altercation with
some one for whom the speaker had no great
respect. Every sentence began with a prolonged
"0—o—o," which sounded a good deal like the
howl of a dog; and at regular intervals a gentleman
in the body of the hall came in with a groan,
like an obligato note on the trombone. (I am
describing exactly what took place, without the
slightest exaggeration.) After the prayer, the
young man wiped his face and proceeded to
preach. He was exceedingly voluble, and roared
and bellowed at the top of his voice in a most
frantic manner. I had no clear impression of
what he said. There seemed to be no context
connecting the dreadful words which he hurled
at us. The whole discourse rang with such
words as "sinners," "death," "damnation,"
"hell," "fire," and frantic appeals, repeated over
and over again, to "come to Jee—sus." I could
see clearly that the preacher was endeavouring
to move his congregation, and produce manifestations.
He tried every device. He raved, he
stamped, he flung his arms in the air, he foamed
at the mouth, he wept tears, and dried them with
his pocket-handkerchief; he sobbed until he
seemed to be choking. All this time the gentleman
in the body of the hall was groaning louder
and louder. A young woman bursts into tears,
sobs, screams, faints, and is carried out. The
attendants are ready with cold water and the
smelling-bottle. "Death," "hell," "damnation."
Another young woman carried out, and
treatment applied on the top of the stairs in sight
of the congregation. More dreadful words, and
at every salvo women faint and fall from their
seats. The attendants have now their hands
full. The ante-room and the landing are crowded
with the prostrate and insensible forms of young
women. The stones are splashed with the
reviving-water; the heavy atmosphere is pungent
with the odour of ammonia. The attendants
make an effort to take the young women out into
the air, and, supporting them in their arms,
carry them down stairs. Each young woman
drops her Bible, and the books bound from step
to step, burst from their bindings, and lie in
fluttering masses of leaves on the floor below.
And still the preacher roars on, redoubling his
efforts to move the people—in other words, to
frighten them into fits. When he has finished,
he flings himself into a chair, covers his face
with his hands, and appears to be in a paroxysm
of excitement. And I do not doubt that he is
quite as excited as his hearers.

I thought it was all over now, for the exercise
had lasted for two hours, and it was ten o'clock.
But I was mistaken. The other young man rose
and began a second address, which (as I heard)
was not concluded until eleven o'clock. I make
no comment. I merely describe faithfully what
I saw and heard. A laird was announced to
conduct the exercises in the following week, and
an earl the week after.

The Sabbath is very strictly kept in this
quarter of Scotland. It is not considered lawful
even to take a walk on the Sabbath-day, except
to church. I made the circuit of this little town
one Sunday afternoon, passing through all the
principal streets, and I encountered only one
person. The sun shone, the flowers exhaled their
perfume, the birds sang upon the trees; but the
face of man was hidden. I saw it here and there
at a window, gloomily bent over a book.

But let us get Sunday over, and we are
very jolly here. I think we get up earlier on
Monday morning than on any other, and I fancy
that we are more sprightly, and more given to
rub our hands on this particular morning of the
week. It may, possibly, be the reviving effect of
the exercise of the day before. And here let me
demur to a certain dictum of the late Mr. Buckle
—that next to Spain, Scotland is the most priest-
ridden country on the face of the earth. The
language in which this is expressed, conveys the
wrong idea. The result is the same, truly, but
the fact is, that it is the priests, the clergy, who
are overridden by the people. The active Church
of Scotland is the Free Church (I grieve to say it),
and the congregations choose their own ministers.
These ministers are the servants of their people,
and must preach to please their people, or they
will be sent to the right-about. Nay, more,
they must regulate their private lives to please
their people. I have heard of ministers being
taken to task by members of their congregations
for wearing long hair, for drinking toddy, for
playing the fiddle, for singing secular songs.
The people of Scotland are not priest-ridden.
They make the yoke for themselves, and they like
it. The great religious power is wielded by the
gentler sex. Woman is Pope. A strong-minded
woman in a Scotch parish will make the minister
shake in his shoes, and tremble for his bread.

I have remarked that the Scotch, at home in
their native land, neglect many little
opportunities of making money. Examples of this
occur to me at every turn. I happen to have a
farthing, which I brought with me from London,
and I leave it on my table. The servant lassie
takes it up and asks what it is. I say, a farthing.
She has never seen a farthing before, and looks
upon the coin as a curiosity. You would imagine
that farthings would be in every-day use in canny