FROM

THE

MILLENNIAL HARBINGER.

SERIES III.

VOL. V.	B E T H A N Y, JULY, 1848.	NO. VII.

      My dear Clarinda--ON our way from Auchtermuchty to Dumferline, we passed through the village of Kinross; from which, while refreshing our horse, we walked down to the ancient burial ground, near the residence of an absent Baron: from which we had a nearer view of Lochleven and its ancient castle, once the celebrated prison of Mary Queen of Scots. The island on which the castle stands is, indeed, of narrow limits, and was, therefore, a very suitable location for a stronghold, or a prison; yet it failed to secure the person of the royal prisoner. The unfortunate Mary, however, had better continued in this lonely and sequestered spot, than to have encountered all the dangers and disasters which befell her during full [393] eighteen years, consummated in her martyrdom by the command of the intolerant and haughty Elizabeth.

      On surveying such localities as these, one cannot but associate with them the fortunes of those distinguished persons whose history is a part of theirs. The little Lochleven--so called, as tradition saith, because eleven rivers run into it, or because it is eleven miles in circumference, or because eleven species of fish compose its finny tenantry; or, perhaps, because of all three, is as famous for its relation to Culdee history as to that of the Stuart royalty.

      The Culdee establishment of Lochleven, or as sometimes called, THE INCH, or ISLAND OF ST. SERF, is referred to amongst the antiquities of Kinross in the following manner:--

      "Before the introduction of Christianity into Scotland, there existed in Britain, south as well as north, a class of men called Druids, from whom, by the testimony of Julius Cesar in his Commentaries, the Druids of Gaul derived their origin, and who, from whatever source they derived their knowledge, it is recorded, believed in the immortality of the soul, and in the transmigration of souls. And it was not till the beginning of the 3d century, that, in Scotland, after the spread of Christianity, this form of worship began to fall into disrepute. After this, till about the year 302, nothing certain is known, when a number of the early Christians took refuge in Scotland from the tenth persecution under the Emperor Dioclesian; and about this period, mention is first made of the Culdees, men remarkable in those days for the sanctity of their lives, the purity of their worship, and for their knowledge of divine truth.

      "Different explanations have been given of the derivation of the name; some giving it from the Latin, Cultores Dei, worshippers of God; others, from the Gaelic, Gille De, servants of God; and lastly, from the Gaelic, Cuil, or Ceal, a cell, a sheltered place, a retreat. And if we conjoin the two latter, the explanation is obvious that these were refugees, servants of God, dwelling in retreats and hiding places. From these, many parts in Scotland, beginning with Kil, such as Kilmarnock, Kilwinning, Kilbride, &c. derive their name. The records of the Culdees have perished, partly from the lapse of time, but principally because it was the interest of their Popish successors that they should not be preserved.

      "But even in the darkest days of Popery, in Scotland, their labors were not lost; and their perseverance and example, there can be little doubt, afterwards contributed to hasten on the reformation in Scotland.

      "Though noticed by various writers, as having existed all over Britain at a very early period, the first definite accounts that can be depended on, of the Culdees, tell us that, in the year 662, Columba, generally understood to be a native of Ireland, and of royal extraction, reached I-ona, or island of waves, on the west of Scotland, having performed his perilous voyage in a curach, a wicker boat, covered with hides. He had taken with him twelve companions, who afterwards formed the council of the college of Iona; and it deserves [394] notice that, when the Culdees formed new colleges, they uniformly adhered to the same number in imitation of the primitive apostolic number of twelve. On his first landing, he ascended several hills, to ascertain whether he could see his native country; on each of these hills he erected a heap of stones, most of which are still pointed out to tourists. And the last of these hills which he ascended is still called by the people of the island, Carnau chel reh Eirinn, or the height of the back turned to Ireland. There he founded the college, or abbey, so well known by his name; and which, considering the situation of the island, the remote period when the buildings were erected, as well as the disadvantage under which they had been undertaken, may justly be considered the greatest curiosities of the kind in the British empire. Of the interest taken in them by travellers, two remarkable examples of individuals in several respects, of not uncongenial minds, may serve as specimens:--

      "'We are now treading,' says Dr. Johnson, in his Journey to the Hebrides, 'that illustrious island, which was once the luminary of the Caledonian regions, whence savage clans and roving barbarians derived the benefits of knowledge and the blessings of religion. To abstract the mind from all local emotion would be impossible, if it were endeavored, and would be foolish, if it were possible. Whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses; whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future, predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings. Far from me and from my friends be such frigid philosophy as may conduct us indifferent and unmoved over any ground, which has been dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue. That man is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plains of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of Iona.'"

      After repeatedly casting my eyes over this beautiful lake, its lonely tower, and the surrounding country, I measured the old parish church in sight of it, some 20 feet by 12, with two widows and one door, large enough one hundred and twenty years ago, for all the pious in the environs. I also read some of the humble and dilapidated monuments around it, sculptured over with coarse symbols of departed husbands, parents, and children, indicative of more feeling than taste, of more natural affection than faith, and of more sorrow for the dead than of hope in a future and better life.

      In Dumfernline we had a pleasant meeting with many brethren both of the Scotch Baptists and disciples, at a love-feast, too often in modern Scotch style called a soiree. We enjoyed it much. After which we repaired to a large Relief meeting-house, crowded to overflowing. After a few allusions to the placards, we succeeded in having a most concentrated attention till a late hour of the evening, and were glad to learn that our discourse was heard with much candor; and if it did not fully convince many, at least propitiated a more candid hearing of our plea for reformation. [395]

      After enjoying the Christian hospitality of brother White and his kind family, and on the next morning an interview with some of the Elders of the people, I made a call at the Bruce church, then in the progress of improvement--scanned its magnificent pulpit, raised just over the bones of king Robert Bruce--read its learned superscription, surveyed its magnificent structure, and hasted to the boat about to sail for Falkirk, on my way to Glasgow, where I arrived in due time to address a congregation in the evening, and to enjoy a pleasant interview with some brethren of the vicinity, amongst whom was brother Ebenezer Allen, of Linlitgow, and other choice spirits, there being no church in the place. Next day I reached the city of Glasgow, and found myself quite at home in the hospitable residence of brother Alexander Paton and family.

      Our course of lectures in Glasgow commenced in a large Presbyterian meeting-house, I know not of what denomination, on the evening of the 27th August. A large audience was in attendance. I do not wish again to allude to the tumultuous characters of the first assembly I addressed in that highly cultivated seat of learning and of the arts of modern and Christian civilization. I am, however, constrained to say it was too Ephesian for my taste; and that had the town clerk of the Asiatic metropolis been present in his official spirit and character, he would, in my opinion doubtless, as on a former occasion, have dismissed the assembly.

      After the tumult ceased, however, I had an attentive congregation to the end of my series, interrupted only by my imprisonment, to which I need not again advert. On the 29th I visited Paisley, where there is a large church of intelligent and highly respectable brethren, greatly devoted to apostolic Christianity and zealous observers of the ordinances formerly delivered to the saints. We had a very pleasant day with the brethren in Paisley on my first visit.

      The basement story of their meeting-house is arranged for a large dining-room. Every Lord's day the church dines together, so that from town and country all meet as one family. This custom has much to commend it. Their Lord's days dinners are thus converted into love-feasts. It would cost a church much less to dine in common, gentle and simple, rich and poor, together thus than in their respective houses, and certainly is much more social and hospitable. There are, indeed, no sumptuous tables spread, no rich and varied courses of oppressive luxury, furnished; but there is a good substantial meal, and a few courses of thanksgiving and praise, with a little speech or report of news from some strange brother, [396] who is always heard with interest and pleasure. We heard several of these table speeches of brethren from a distance, and were pleased with their straight forward simplicity and godly sincerity.

      Having been introduced to brother Ivie Campbell Esq., of Dalzig, Cumnock, Ayrshire, then in attendance at Paisley, and his excellent lady, I proposed to take an excursion with him for health to the town of Ayr, after delivering a discourse at Kilmarnock, some twenty miles from Glasgow. Brother Campbell is a fruit of the "Rice Debate." Educated in the University of Glasgow a Presbyterian and for a Presbyterian minister, the class-mate, friend, and companion of Pollock, author of the "Course of Time," he was wholly Presbyterian in spirit, education, and connexions. But having got hold of that discussion, he got into the spirit of it, and could not lay it down till he fully comprehended it on every point. The result was his renunciation of Presbyterianism and his immersion in the original faith delivered by the Apostles.

      Farming, as he does, in patriarchal style, feeding his flocks of twelve thousand sheep, and his large herds of several hundred cattle, on some ten or twelve thousand acres, he has been able to build up a church on his own premises, of his own tenantry--shepherds and farmers. He is, indeed, altogether in earnest in contending for the faith formerly delivered to the saints--and does it very successfully for the time. Few men of his age have drunk more deeply into the spirit of original Christianity, and few are more deeply interested in its propagation and spread in the world.

      During a very interesting ride with him to the town of Ayr and to Burns' Monument, I learned much of the history of Pollock, the youthful author of that very popular poem, THE COURSE OF TIME. On calling my attention to the island of Arran, as we passed in sight of it, he informed me of a soliloquy written by Pollock while sojourning in that island, in the earlier stages of that consumption which carried him hence. The Soliloquy never having been printed, on hearing him repeat it I requested a copy of it, and having very promptly and kindly received it from him a few days afterwards, I here present it, for the first time in print, to our readers.--Pollock being much alone on the mountain island of Arran, and oft dejected amid the alterations of his disease, gave utterance, to a fit of melancholy, in the following words:--

      We visited the town of "AULD AYR;" crossed both the old and new bridge of the "BONNY DOON;" walked round the "KIRK ALLOWAY;" and spent half an hour at Burns' Monument, standing in the midst of the beauties of Nature and Art. While there, the wind blew strong and loud, and shower succeeded shower in quick succession, so that we could not much enjoy the scene.

      Some familiar mementos of the poet are preserved in it:--A lock of his hair; his Testament, presented to a sister; and some specimens of his writing. The monument is neat and chaste rather than magnificent, and the grounds around it are in keeping with the monument.

      We also visited the cottage, and even the antique little room, some eight feet by ten, in which our poet was born, and even noted the four-light window through which he first saw the light of day. This humble cottage is still much frequented; and is, therefore, kept in its ancient neatness and simplicity. There is ever present a presiding [398] mistress, with something to sell touching the poet--a picture or a poem, as an apology for a sixpence or a shilling.

      The yet too much frequented Inn, bearing the motto of "Tam o'Shanter," where Burns conceived the bright idea of "John Barleycorn," yet stands in Ayr, and many an unlucky toast is yet offered to the memory of one whose genius to himself, we fear, and to many an admirer, was a misfortune, or a curse rather than a blessing.

      Prostituted talent or genius is more to be regretted than financial bankruptcy and ruin, and is a greater curse to mankind than a pestilence or a famine! When we think of the many spiritual odes and sweet lyric strains of devotion--what psalms, and hymns, and spiritual songs a Pindar, an Anacreon, a Horace, or a Burns, guided by the light from above, might have given to the world--what pious and joyful emotions they might have excited in disconsolate bosoms--what sentiments of grateful adoration, wonder, love, and praise, they might have inspired into the minds of youth; we cannot but deplore the alienation of their minds and the prostitution of their genius to themes so ignoble, so mean, so demoralizing as those which seem to have engrossed their every thought; or, at least, to have tinctured every thing they wrote with the poison of irreverence, profanity, and licentiousness. The occasional apparently devout and beautifully expressed moral sentiments which sparkle in their lines, are but to delude more fatally and to corrupt more effectually the minds of youth, than were they never to have alluded to any thing beyond the revelry of mirth, animal passion, the arts of Cupid, the charms of Venus, or the joys of Bacchus.

      I could not, then, visit the monument of a Shakspeare, a Scott, or a Burns, as I could those of a Milton, a Newton, a Locke, a Beattie, a Cowper, a Campbell, or a Watt. I have, indeed, great respect for human greatness, for men of great genius and great talents; but much more for great goodness, great moral excellence. But unfortunately these are not the world's great favorites. I never read of a monument to Mary who bathed the Saviour's feet with her tears, nor to a widow that gave her two mites to the treasury of the Lord. I have seen a statue of Howard the Philanthropist, a picture of William Penn, and one of Roger Williams; but no splendid pillar nor grand monument celebrates their praise. The Duke of Wellington has more of England's glory than all the saints of the realm, and France has done more to honor Napoleon than she has done for all her moral and spiritual benefactors of a thousand [399] years. The world needs no new lessons on the subject of honoring and rewarding its own.

      We had a pleasant meeting and love-feast with the brethren of Kilmarnock, and a fine audience of its citizens. On our return from Ayr we visited Irvine, dined with brother Rollo, uncle of Lord Rollo, an excellent brother, an amateur in the fine arts, greatly devoted to the cause of reformation. While in Irvine, he had the presence of mind to call my attention to the birth-place of James Montgomery, high in the list of British poets, as a religious and moral poet, and well known to many of our readers in this country as the author of "The Wanderer of Switzerland." Brother Rollo conducted me to the spot of his birth--to the room, humble, indeed, it was, as the natal spot of many a poet has been, where first he breathed the vital air, and learned the poetry of youth. Like all great poets and all great men, Montgomery was fond of liberty: hence his sympathy with the Swiss, and his beautiful verses put into the mouth of the Wanderer:--

      I looked around the room, and at the old nurse who still kept possession of it, with all the interest that the memory of Montgomery could awaken, and also some reminiscences of Moravian history could inspire. [400]

      From Irvine we returned to Glasgow to prosecute our lectures in the city, which we did until the memorable 6th of September.

      On the morning of the 6th, accompanied by a few brethren and sisters, we made a visit to the Necropolis, to which we learned when entering our names at the gate, almost a million of persons had paid a visit during the preceding year. This is a vast burial field, where stands many a splendid monument, and lies many of the sainted dead. We spent a forenoon, one of the most beautiful and happy I had spent in Scotland, in conversing with the living and yet communing with the dead.

      Passing over "THE BRIDGE. OF SIGHS" beyond the old cathedral, we reached the city of the dead. A bold and splendid arch spans Molendinar Burn, whose waters, when collected into a small dam or lake, dash violently over an artificial cascade, down a steep ravine, affording a sort of melancholy cheerfulness to the scenes around us. The statue of Knox on the summit first arrests and absorbs our attention; then those of William M'Gavin, Dr. Dick of Glasgow, and Charles Tennant of St. Rollox.

      The statue of Knox, on the summit, looks down upon the old cathedral, 250 feet below, in which, in my youthful days, I sometimes sat in admiration of the living Doctors of that day. Around this venerable cathedral lie the crumbling memorials of five and twenty generations, amongst which, by light of moon, I sometimes rambled, some forty years ago, at the dead hour of night, in communion with the dead. This, it is alleged, is the oldest Gothic cathedral in Scotland.

      The splendid gateway and delightful shrubbery every where surrounding the sculptured walks, solemnly adorned with monumental columns, greatly enhance the melancholy pleasures of a visit to this capacious and much adorned garden of the dead. If any can lift his eyes from the scenes immediately around him, either to survey the vast city of 300,000 inhabitants, with the surrounding country, he can have a feast of the eye of the most interesting variety, as well as of the very richest and grandest dimensions. Intersected by the broad and gently flowing Clyde, the city stretches, "in long prospective," on every side; while a country, beautiful and romantic, reaching to the uplands of the four shires of Lanark, Renfrew, Dumbarton, and Argyle, completes the picture and leaves little to be added either to diversify or adorn the scene.

      But there was one object which more than any other interested me within these solemn and greatly ornamented precincts. It was [401] the walled off corner allotted to the Jews, at whose gate I sat and transcribed with my pencil these truthful and heart-touching lines engraven on the entrance of their burial ground:--

      I must leave these verses with you, reserving to my next some other reminiscences of a city through which you passed so hastily, still dear to me from many a pleasing association.

[The Millennial Harbinger, Third Series, 5 (July 1848): 393-402.]