with the spiritual needs of the country. How was the National Church to be revived? The aristocracy had but one thing in view--the landed interest; Peel was a trimmer; there was nothing in mere numbers. What was wanted was an _inner work_ in the hearts of clergy and people. ‘If we were right in our souls,’ he wrote, ‘out of this root would spring the tree and fruit, out of this fountain would well out the living water.’ Two vows he took, one that he would devote himself to the reviving of the Church, the other that he would do his utmost to promote unity and peace among all who loved Christ. At Dalkeith, for the first time, he came in contact with the submerged ranks. These he overtook with the help of his congregation, which he developed into a society of Christian workers. He went about preaching in the wynds and closes. At various strategic points he opened mission stations, the walls of which he got hung round with placards of the Lord’s Prayer and the Ten Commandments, and pictures from the life of Christ. Many had no clothes to appear in, and when the Duke of Buccleuch offered to pay for a missionary, the minister showed that money would be better spent in employing dressmakers and tailors. Visiting was to him a romantic expedition, such was the interest of his days among his ‘brothers and sisters.’ There is a little incident that recalls the characteristic inventions of his tales. ‘On coming home this evening, I saw a number of boys following and speaking to, and apparently teasing, a little boy who, with his hands in his pockets and all in rags, was creeping along close by the wall. He seemed like a tame caged bird which had got loose, and was pecked at and tormented by wild birds. I asked the boys who he was. “Eh! he’s a wee boy gaun’ aboot beggin’, wi’out faither or mither.”’ The minister took him to the manse, and consigned him to the housekeeper to get washed and dressed. By and by ‘the door was opened, and in marched my poor boy, paraded in by Jessie,--a beautiful boy, clean as a bead, but with nothing on but a large beautiful clean shirt, his hair combed and divided; and Jessie gazing on him with admiration, Mary Ann in the background. The poor boy hardly opened his lips; he looked round him in bewilderment. “There he is,” said Jessie; “I am sure ye’re in anither warld the night, my lad. Were ye ever as clean afore?” “No.” “What will ye dae noo?” “I dinna ken.” “Will ye gang awa’ and beg the night?” “If ye like.” “No,” said I, “be off to your bed and sleep.”’