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self considered; they had been long accustomed | ceal her indignation, bawled out, "Villain, dost to it, though they had never been accustomed thou say mass at my lug!" and, with these words, to see it done by their ministers, who considered launched at the dean's head the stool on which she it wrong to be shackled by set forms in this had been sitting. Others followed her example, part of their public duty. To the English and the confusion soon became universal. The Liturgy they objected, not only on the ground service was interrupted, and the women, whose of its confining the minister to a prescribed zeal on this occasion was most conspicuous, form of words, but because it recognised a num- rushed to the desk in furious disorder. The ber of superstitious practices, which they had con- dean threw off his surplice and fled, to avoid bedemned; they recollected what Edward VI. of ing torn in pieces. The Bishop of Edinburgh England said of it, that "it was a bad translation then ascended the pulpit, and endeavoured to allay of the Mass-Book ;" or, as James VI. expressed the ferment; but his address only inflamed them it, "an ill-said mass in English." But the English the more. He was answered by a volley of sticks, Liturgy, undesired as it was, would not have stones, and other missiles, with cries of " A Pope! excited such a sensation as that which Laud a Pope!-Antichrist!-pull him down!-stone attempted to force on the people of Scotland. him!" and on returning in his coach, had he not For our especial benefit, it pleased his Grace of been protected by the magistrates, he would have Canterbury to draw up a new Service-Book of fallen a victim to the fury of the mob,—a martyr his own, much more nearly resembling the Popish to the new Liturgy! Breviary; and in various points, particularly in the communion service, borrowing almost the words of the mass-book.

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prepare the way for the introduction of this Anglo-Popish service, as it was called, a Book of Canons was sent down, for the regulation of the clergy; then, every minister was enjoined to procure two copies of Laud's Liturgy, for the use of his church, upon the pain of deprivation, even before the book had been seen by any of them; and lastly, when the minds of the whole nation had been wrought up to a state of alarm, by the reports which had been in circulation, of a design to re-introduce the Popish worship, down came the long-expected Service-Book, with orders from the king and Parliament that it should be read in all the churches.

Brief as the space was during which the ministers were permitted to examine the contents of this book, they had sufficient time to discover its character, and to warn the people against it. The pulpits resounded with accusations against its orthodoxy, and denunciations of the tyranny of the bishops in imposing it on the once free reformed Church of Scotland. In the midst of these preparations, the fatal day appointed for commencing the use of the Service-Book, the 23d of July 1637, at last arrived.

On the morning of this Sabbath, one Henderson, a Reader in the High Church of St Giles, who was a great favourite with the people, read the usual prayers about eight o'clock; and when he had ended, he said, with tears in his eyes, "Adieu, good people, for I think this is the last time of my reading prayers in this place." The Dean of Edinburgh was appointed to perform the service, after the form of the obnoxious Liturgy. An immense crowd, attracted by curiosity, had assembled. At last the dean was seen issuing out of the vestry, clad in his surplice, and passed through the crowd to the reading desk, the people gazing as they would do at a show. No sooner, however, had he begun to read, than an old woman named Janet Geddes, who kept a greenstall in the High Street, no longer able to con

Nothing can be more ridiculous than the attempts which were made at the time, by the bishops, and which have been revived of late by their admirers, to magnify this incidental tumult into a regularly organised conspiracy. The terror into which the bishops were thrown, and the disgrace which they felt at being defeated by a handful of women, naturally led them to exaggerate the whole affair; and Bishop Guthrie may have really believed, perhaps, what he asserts,-that the authors of the tumult were men disguised in women's clothes. We need not wonder at this, when we consider that even Baillie, a good Presbyterian, whom we shall have frequent occasion to quote, says, in his Letters at this period, " I think our people are possessed with a bloody devil, far above any thing that can be imagined." But Baillie soon found he was mistaken; at present he had not made up his mind on the questions in dispute, and indeed seems to have been incapable of it, from bodily fear. "The Lord save my poor soul," says this good but rather weak-minded man, "for as moderate as I have been, and resolving, in spite of the devil and the world, by God's grace so to remain to death,—for as well as I have been beloved hitherto, yet I think I may be killed, and my house burnt upon my head!" But indeed there is not the vestige of a proof that it was premeditated, or even foreseen, by any class of people in the country; and none will assert it, who have read the accounts transmitted by those who were on the spot, and who had no temptation to conceal it.

There is a somewhat different version of the story. There is no doubt, however, that one folding-stool was made use of as a missile on this occasion; and if the one commonly called "Janet Geddes's stool," which is to be seen in the Antiquarian Society's Museum in Edinburgh, was that employed, I shall only say, it was well for the dean that he had learned to jouk, or the consequences might have been serious.

This tumult, unparalleled since the Reformation, proved the death-blow of Laud's Liturgy. Though at first confined to the lower orders, and

all novations already introduced into the worship of God, and to labour by all means lawful to recover the purity and liberty of the Gospel as it was professed and established before the aforesaid innovations." This covenant was sworn and subscribed, with much solemnity, in the Greyfriars' Church at Edinburgh on 1st of March 1638.

the result, as we have seen, not of any premedi- | the true religion, and forbearing the practice of tated scheme, but of an impulse given to long suppressed feelings, the quarrel was soon taken up by the respectable portion of society. The infatuated conduct of the prelates (the younger part of them at least) to enforce the obnoxious mandate of the court, roused the whole country to follow the example set by Edinburgh. Petitions and remonstrances poured into the Privy Council. New riots, in which the gentry began to participate, took place, and it was found absolutely necessary to suspend the use of the Liturgy. In Glasgow similar indignation was excited by an attempt to impose this book, and there, as in Edinburgh, the women seem to have borne the principal share. One Mr William Annan, minister of Ayr, who preached in defence of the Service-Book, had well-nigh fallen a victim to their fury. During the day he was pursued with threats of vengeance; and on venturing out at night, he was beset by some hundreds of ladies, chiefly the wives of honest burgesses, who attacked him, it is said, with "their fists, switches, and peats, but no stones;" tore his coat, ruff, and hat to pieces, and after thrashing him soundly, allowed him to go home. His humiliation, however, was not yet complete; for next morning, on mounting his horse, the animal, startled by a mob which began to collect around him, fell with him into a gutter, and the discomfited divine, covered with mud, made his escape out of Glasgow amidst the derisive shouts of the populace.

A fast was appointed; after sermon the Covenant was read; upon which the Earl of Loudon, whose manner was peculiarly impressive, made an address to the assembled multitude, dwelling on the importance of this bond of union in present circumstances, and exhorting all to zeal and perseverance in the cause of the Lord. Thereafter Mr Alexander Henderson, then minister at Leuchars, poured out an impassioned prayer for the divine blessing; when the noblemen present stepped forward to the table, subscribed the deed, and with uplifted hands swore to the observance of its duties. After them, the gentry, ministers, and thousands of every rank, subscribed and swore. The immense sheet of parchment was speedily filled, and numbers, for want of room, were obliged to sign only their initials; the enthusiasm was universal; it seemed as if a new era had dawned on them; every face beamed with joy, and the city presented one scene of devout congratulation and rapture. "Behold," says a writer of these times, "the nobility, the barons, the burgesses the ministers, the commons of all sorts of Sectland, all in tears for their breach of Coven21," About this time, the excitement in Edinburgh and for their backsliding and defection o was so great, that many noblemen and gentlemen, Lord; and at the same time, returning with great commissioners from various places, with their re- joy unto their God, by swearing cheerfully and tainers, and great crowds of people from all quar-willingly to be the Lord's. It may well be said ters, were come up to town, waiting with the utmost anxiety the king's answer to a supplication for the suppression of the Service-book. Had that answer been conciliatory, had any concessions been made at this critical juncture, it is probable Episcopacy might have been spared, and a civil war prevented. But Charles' infatuation prevailed. A new proclamation arrived, enjoining strict obedience to the canons, and threatening severe penalties against all who opposed them. This brought matters to a point. The commissioners met and protested against the proclamation; and the Council, apprehensive of danger from such large masses of people collected in town, agreed that if they would disperse the crowd, the commissioners might appoint some of their number to represent the rest, who would remain and look after their interest. To this the commissioners agreed, and erected four tables, as they were called, one for the nobility, another for the barons, a third for the boroughs, and a fourth for the Church.

Before separating, however, to return to their homes, the commissioners, considering the critical state in which the Church and nation were placed, agreed to renew the National Covenant, with some additions applicable to the present conjuncture, binding themselves "to adhere to and defend

of this day, Great was the day of Jezreel. It was a day wherein the arm of the Lord was revealed; a day wherein the princes of the people were assembled to swear fealty and allegiance to that great King whose name is the Lord of hosts."

"To this much vilified bond," as has been well said, "every true Scotsman ought to look back with as much reverence as Englishmen do to their Magna Charta." It saved the country at the time from absolute despotism, and to it we may trace back the origin of all the efforts subsequently made in behalf of civil and religious freedom, during the reigns of the Stuarts, and which ultimately succeeded in driving them from the throne of these kingdoms. The prelates were thunderstruck at the explosion; and the Archbishop of St. Andrews, who had sagacity enough to see in the swearing of the Covenant the downfall of the whole Episcopal fabric, exclaimed in despair, "Now all that we have been doing these thirty years bypast is at once thrown down!"

Printed and Published by JOHN JOHNSTONE, 2, Hunter Square, Edinburgh; and sold by J. R. MACNAIR & Co., 19, Glassford Street, Glasgow; JAMES NISBET & Co., HAMILTON, ADAMS & Co., and R. GROOMBRIDGE, London; W. CURRY, Junr. & Co., Dublin; W. M'COMB, Belfast; and by the Booksellers and Local Agents

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Towns in England and Ireland.

Subscribers will have their copies delivered at their Residences.

THE

SCOTTISH CHRISTIAN HERALD,

CONDUCTED UNDER THE SUPERINTENDENCE OF MINISTERS AND MEMBERS OF THE ESTABLISHED CHURCH.

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I AM sure I write only the sentiments of many of my readers, when I assert that they feel a great contrariety between the account the Scriptures give of their character, and that which they hear reiterated from the pulpit, and their own experience. They do not feel themselves to be those men our prayers assume and our sermons declare they are. Accordingly, they are in the habit, generally, of setting aside from their minds dark views of human nature as the fruit of a diseased fancy, or as unmeaning jargon, with which their ears have become so familiar as no longer to disgust them; or, provided they be set home with a conviction painful to them, they resist them with some such language as this, We could never be such characters as are described.

Now, we will not maintain that there may not be one way of stating human depravity which may be more objectionable than another.

It is pos

sible that it may be pourtrayed more in the spirit of simply aggravating it than of keeping to the melancholy truth on the point, and the mind may just deepen the shade the more, the less it feels the declaration it makes. And, again, there may he statements of human depravity which are not true in fact. Man, though a ruin, is still no more than a ruin after all. There are many traces in his condition, of his original grandeur, fallen on every hand as it appears to be; nor would it be right to assert we had lost all perception between good and evil, all recognition of the existence of a Supreme Intelligence, or all those sensibilities which, as they sweeten and adorn existence now, must have sweetened and adorned it even in the garden of Eden.

But after every abatement has been made to bring the representation to correspond with acknowledged fact, it is scarcely possible to aggravate No. 28. JULY 13, 1839.—Jd.]

human depravity too much. We may err in the mode of making it apparent to the mind, but we are not in danger of overstating it. Nor would a mind that had light to perceive its true character have any desire to remove a single item in the charge brought against it.

We might appeal, in confirmation of this truth, to the experience of every one who reasonably considers the extent of the rule of duty, and the nature of the performance,-to the prevalence of iniquity in the world, the germs of which every man has in his own breast, however its growth may be checked and suppressed by education or circumstances,-to the true estimate we should form of sins to which we have attached soft names, and to the suspicions which prevail throughout society, with all those guards against injustice which it has found it necessary to keep up.

But we will not at present occupy a field where, we fear, we should be unsuccessful, however much truth we had on our side. We will rather take up a point which there is more hope of recommending to the mind, and which has also the advantage of being the key to the whole history of human depravity. We shall say nothing at all, however righteously we might say it, of particular transgressions of the law. We shall even allow, if they will, that our upright and amiable men are all they say they are. But, while we allow all this, we have a charge to bring against them that appears altogether inconsistent with the professions they make, and guilty of which, it may be affirmed they are altogether depraved.

But before we advance proof of the fact, it will be necessary to show how far the fact, when proved, would render them thus guilty. They may think, even with reference to a mere general declaration like this, to use their favourite phrase,

[SECOND SERIES. VOL. I.

there is no harm in the dispositions to which we | pervading and permanent regard we see exempli

are to refer. They may wonder how we should suppose a failing should involve such consequences. And, therefore, before we show them how they are culpable in the matter to be referred to, we must first show how reasonable, and necessary, and becoming is the conduct in which they are so faulty. This appears the more requisite, that we are liable to make mistakes respecting it. We may, on the one hand, take up a wrong meaning of the duty, and at once reject it as impracticable. Or we may, on the other, rashly assume we perform it when we do not.

man.

God indeed, then, we begin by remarking, cannot, strictly speaking, be in all the thoughts of Our minds cannot be directed to two different objects at the same time. And that we should exclusively, and at all times, think of Him, would go to detach us from present interests entirely, and destroy our active powers.

But while we contend not for this sense of the duty, we contend for a sense of it greatly higher than many allow, or at least practically evince. We may not be always thinking of God, and yet God may be in all our thoughts. We may have a casual reference to him in all we think and do. | At times, indeed, we may not exactly be turning our attention to, or reflecting on, the views he entertains of our conduct, or how far it promotes his glory; but throughout even these, the tendencies of our nature may be towards him, as we shall show by the readiness with which, when not otherwise occupied, they revert to him. Subordinate objects, too, may be pursued and thought of in subserviency to him, and thus substantially may it be said of us that he is in all our thoughts."

We are familiar with such complex habits of mind, with reference to other objects which have great influence over us. An affectionate child, for instance, is continually thinking and acting with reference to the opinions of his parent. He loves him, as he evinces clearly in those actions in which he is specially employed in fulfilling his desires. He cannot, however, be always employed immediately in doing his will. But, even when not so employed, the tendency of his nature is towards his parent. Let that parent frown, and gladness flies from his spirit. Let him give a command, he springs to obey it; and wherever he is, he maintains a constant regard to his will and favour. Here, then, we have an example at once of the meaning and the practicability, of evincing a continued reference to some supreme object while conversant with inferior ones.

Now, this sort of regard for God it is most reasonable we should have. The illustration just alluded to, of itself suggests an argument in behalf of this truth. We have a heavenly as well as an earthly father. He gave us those parents, with reference to whose will an affectionate child continually thinks and acts. He is himself, therefore, in a higher degree entitled to that kind of

fied every day in reference to far inferior objects. And the more we examine into this truth, the more do we see the indispensableness of the sort of conduct alluded to.

The proper orbit in which a creature should move, as it were, is around the Creator. This is the homage implied in the relation, and due to the exalted object of it. He who receives should feel he is a recipient. He who depends, should exercise dependence. He who has a beneficent lot, should acknowledge whence it comes.

His character implies the same continual reference to Him. We have susceptibilities of the grand in what are called the natural and moral attributes of God. Where is wisdom so profound, love so unbounded, power so great, majesty so awful, as in Him, all whose perfections are infinite? And where the faculty of admiring these exists, should it not be turned constantly towards them, overlooking in them the lesser examples of them, which, after all, are but rays from the great Source?

Moreover, the very design for which we were formed is to set forth the Creator's glory. He could propose to himself no other end; and as we, in contradistinction from physical nature, are intelligently to declare his praise, where is the single thought even that may be arrested and withdrawn from that stream of adoration our powers should be continually pouring forth?

More especially should we evince that sort of negative proof of a reference to God in all we do, afforded by a thankful spirit on receiving peculiar mercies. These call for feelings of gratitude. It may not previously have been in exercise. It ought to be, however, ever ready for the duty.

We believe that no one, when exercising due reflection on these various views of our relation to God, will deny, that we should thus exemplify that sort of constant reference to him, implied in God being in all our thoughts. We feel that reason is on our side, however her voice may be stifled by depraved feelings.

But reasonable though this duty be, becoming and necessary, as is a constant reference to our Creator in all we think and do, do we find illustrations of it in real life? Do our men, who plume themselves on their regard for every virtue of domestic life, turn their sensibilities towards an object so much more deserving of them? Are they as anxious as they would have us believe they are, to discharge obligations, or be moved by generosity to acknowledge greatness? Or can we go round them all, and, while we allow they have much that is "lovely, and of good report," find among them one unvarying spirit of ungodliness, that deprives their best deeds of all the character of excellence, and renders them the more guilty, that they can deny to the Almighty, dispositions they exercise to their fellow-men ?-which they nevertheless hope will recommend themselves to his favour. Under all

this fair exterior, can we discern the most revolting, because the most ungenerous and pervading, feature of human character,-an utter disregard of the favour of Him who made them; or a state of mind just the reverse of what His character requires? If we have not this against them, that they do not justly, nor love mercy,-have we this against them, that they walk not humbly with the Almighty? or that, however their minds may be occupied about created things, "God is not in all their thoughts?"

We conceive that real life affords but one answer-and that against human nature-to these questions. Men believe, indeed, in the existence of God, as all nature requires them to do; and they may also refrain from committing those grosser vices, on which society has already put a mark of disgrace sufficiently intelligible; but if atheism consist rather in an unwillingness to acknowledge practically the relation in which we stand to the Almighty; and if no duty to Him can be acceptable, which is not characterised by a regard to his authority, then we are bound to conclude, mankind naturally are deserving of what is considered the most opprobrious of all epithets; and do lie under the whole of that charge which the Scriptures explain, and faithful expounders of those Scriptures enforce.

THE SEASONS, AS KNOWN TO THE HEBREW S.

BY THE REV. DAVID MITCHELL.

WINTER AND COLD.

THE seasons in Palestine, and the adjacent countries, furnish numerous tests of the Creator's wisdom, and many proofs of the veracity of Scripture. They abound in solemn exhibitions of Jehovah's majesty, in manifold representations of God's care of our race, and in rich distributions of his bounty to man. These changes of the year are valuable in themselves as standing memorials of the Lord's faithfulness, and interesting to a European, by presenting to the mind a train of associations different from what he has been accustomed to cherish. When the husbandman amongst us sows his seed, he anticipates the verdure of spring, the blooming beauty of summer, and then the fulness of autumn; whereas the Jew, after seed-time, expected winter's howling blast, the snow like wool, the hoar frost like ashes, fire, hail, and stormy vapour. Then, along with the genial smiles of spring, and the falling of the latter rain, he hoped to see his swelling crops rapidly assuming a yellow tinge, and preparing for the sickle: and, after the harvest was ended, he anticipated the sultry heat of summer, and the scorching rays of a burning sun. We have an allusion to this order of the seasons in the prophecies of Jeremiah: "The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved." Jer. viii. 20.

We intend in this article to describe the period which intervenes betwixt the Jewish seed-time and harvest. This was divided by the rabbins into two parts, called winter and cold. Winter comprised the latter half of Chisleu, all Tebeth, and the half of Sebat, extending,

according to our computation, from the commencement of December to the beginning of February. Cold included the latter part of Sebat, all Adar, and the half of Nisan, corresponding to the period between the first of February and the commencement of April. In the beginning of winter, the snow is only to be seen coating the summit of the mountain, or lingering about the declivity shaded from the rays of the sun. If the cloud descend so far as to whiten the valley, the covering will not abide the natural heat of the day. As the season advances, the cold increases; and in several parts of Palestine, becomes severe. In the higher districts, the winter is rigorous, the wind keen and pierc ing, the rocky eminence is incrusted with frost, the half-melted flakes of snow are converted into a sheet of ice, the circuitous winding along the mountain side becomes a dangerous track, exposing the traveller to peril every step of his journey, and furnishing a practical exhibition of the importance of our Saviour's injunction when he said to his disciples, "Pray ye that your flight be not in the winter."

The climate varies much in the different localities of

in

the Holy Land, and throughout the regions of Syria. The rigour of winter is scarcely experienced in the plains of Jericho. The inhabitants generally enjoy weather resembling the genial and temperate salubrity of spring. Delamartine describes the climate at Damascus as being "damp and cold, with frequent snowstorms in winter;" while Russell speaks of the winters at Aleppo as being uncommonly mild. He says, the thirteen years of my residence at Aleppo, it happened not more than three times, that the ice was of sufficient strength to bear the weight of a man, and then only in shady situations, where the pool was not much exposed to the sun. It is very seldom that there is not some frosty weather in the winter; but many years pass entirely without snow. The snow does not remain long unmelted in the streets; it was observed only in three out of thirteen winters to lie more than one day."

The weather is often exceedingly variable in Canaan during the winter months; intense frosts, deluges of rain, tremendous showers of hail, cold searching winds, and terrific thunder-storms, pervade the land in rapid succession. Towards the end of the twelfth century, the crusaders suffered extremely from the severity of the weather. Heavy flakes of snow covered the ground in an instant, the rain fell from the clouds next hour in torrents, then the frost wind blew, and the ground was incrusted with ice. Again the windows of heaven were opened, the floods descended, the streams were increased, and carried death and devastation in their course: tents were overturned, men and women fell a prey to the tempest, the cattle were swept away, the horses reeled to and fro, and many of the unfortunate survivors lost their all. Sir Robert Wilson relates a similar catastrophe in his History of the British Expedition into Egypt: "On the 8th of February commenced the most violent thunder and hail storm ever remembered, and which continued two days and two nights intermittingly. The hail, or rather the ice-stones, were as big as large walnuts. The camps were deluged with a torrent of them two feet deep, which pouring from the mountains, swept every thing before it. The scene of confusion on shore, by the horses breaking

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