Among the duties intrusted to the Council of State for Scotland were the encouragement of learning and the reform of the universities. Commissioners visited the universities, and changes were made. Resolutioners were turned out, and Protesters put in their places. Leighton, afterwards Bishop of Dunblane, became Principal of Edinburgh University. At Glasgow, Patrick Gillespie was appointed against the remonstrances of Baillie and his party; but even Baillie afterwards admitted that the appointment was a wise one. “The matters of our college,” he writes, “this year were peaceable; our gallant building going on vigorously; above twenty-six thousand pounds are already spent upon it; Mr. Patrick Gillespie, with a very great care, industrie, and dexterity, managing it as good as alone.” A grant of two hundred pounds a year was made to the Universities both of Edinburgh and of Glasgow; and before his death the Protector had taken the first steps towards founding a College of Physicians for Scotland. In 1659 it was resolved to put the Union, the terms of which rested only on the ordinance promulgated by Oliver Cromwell five years before, on a more constitutional footing; and for that purpose two Bills “for perfecting the Union between England and Scotland” were brought into Parliament.[86] But neither of these Bills became an Act of Parliament; and at the Restoration, the Union came to an end. As to the general effect of this Union on the state of Scotland we have conflicting accounts; but the weight of evidence goes to show that it was a time, not only of quiet, which has never been denied, but also of prosperity. Baillie tells a dismal tale. The peers were in exile or reduced to poverty; the people were burdened by heavy taxation, and suffering from want of money and want of trade. But Baillie was a Resolutioner; and the Protesters were favoured by the Government. Therefore, for Baillie, the times were out of joint, and he exclaims, “What shall we do for a testimony against the English?” Yet he is forced to admit that food was cheap and plentiful; and he gives an account of the state of Glasgow, where he lived, from which it appears that the town was highly prosperous. The magistrates were rapidly paying off the public debt, and spending money on public works.[87] To the historian Kirkton, who was on the other side, everything seemed bright. It was a period of “deep tranquillity.” Every parish had a minister; every village had a school; almost every family had a Bible. The voice of singing and of prayer was heard in every house. From the taverns alone came the sound of lamentation; for the happiness and sobriety of the people were such that the trade in strong drink was ruined.[88]