1 not only be soundly competent and a | instruction, ranging over mathematics One of the professors said to me: "We lecture before a public whom we do not know; we are not always aware if our hearers are capable of grasping what we teach, for our lectures are, of course, intended for advanced students; but if one in ten has understood, our object is attained; we know then that our labors will bear fruit. Again, if in preparing our themes we desire to borrow light from the lamp of an allied science, we do not squander time in personal investigations, but we consult each other, certain to obtain the information we require better and quicker than through the medium of books. Each of us knows all that is knowable in his special branch, and is always ready to place his knowledge at the disposal of his colleagues." What system could be more admirably devised to last as long as learning lasts? Based upon no dogma, wedded to no irrefragable rules, open to every demonstrable innovation, the College of France seems to have a long and brilliant career of usefulness before it. It would be impossible, in ordinary limits, to give even a brief description of all the subjects professed in a college whose motto is docet omnia. A student with a thirst for encyclopædic knowledge, and an intellect capable of assimilating it, might in one year (given a sound preliminary basis of education) acquire an immense store of LIVING AGE. VOL LXXXII. 4234 in the Assyria of the Shalmanesers, the Egypt of the Pharaohs, the Persia of Darius, with side-lights from Buddhistic lands down to the familiar regions of Greece and Rome, to the Europe of the Middle Ages. In philosophy his scope would range from Plato and Aristotle to Kant and Hegel, passing through all the intermediate stages of human reason until the present positive stage—if such a term be possible were reached. And all this knowledge is not the mere lesson of the class-room, but the matured fruit of the individual research of scholarly specialists the result of their reflections and the best of their intellectual powers, placed at the disposal of the public by the liberality of the State. The principle which governs this institution seems to me a very high one, and it would be difficult to conceive a system better devised for the general enlightenment of a nation. In conclusion, it may be mentioned that the present building is unworthy of the college. The rooms are for the most part small and incommodious, and the architecture, belonging to the uncertain epoch of the seventeenth century, forms a disadvantageous contrast to that of the New Sorbonne at its side. To some extent what was said of the college in its early years is still trueit is built of men rather than of stones. The history of the college has not yet been written in its entirety, and until quite recently it only existed in | Moreover, it is no common bride that incomplete and often inaccurate ac- we shall see, but a Carglen lass with a counts. A young archivist, however strange, almost fateful history. This M. Abel Lefranc - has collected, with history is known in outline to every great industry, the scattered fragments soul in our parish, so you need not and published a reliable record to the wonder, that we are here in our scores end of the First Empire. But the sub- to gaze upon the bride. Round and ject is so vast and requires such a about we see some faces seldom seen comprehensive talent if the rise and near the auld kirk in Carglen. They development are to be traced, step by are the faces of staunch Free Kirk adstep, in relation to European progress, herents 66 non-introoshunists," the that the great work still remains un- elder orthodox folks call them and if written. Nevertheless, M. Jacques we could look into their consciences we Flach, the professor of comparative should see that they are far from clean legislations, to whom I am indebted for to-day. These neighbors will no doubt much information, has been patiently collecting material for some time past, and will doubtless eventually produce a magnum opus. FREDERIC CARREL. From The Gentleman's Magazine. A DISTURBER IN CARGLEN KIRK. THE wind is cold to-day as it sweeps down from Ben Ulin, rushing across the tree-tops in the "auld" and new "wuids," and fanning us with its wings as we sit on the stone dyke just outside the eastern porch of the kirk. It is Sunday, and though it is April, with a biting, chilly air- for the spring comes slowly up our way-there is a great throng of men, and women too, surrounding the church and trying to possess their souls in patience. One glance at the company suffices to show that this is no ordinary weekly palaver, but that some looked-for event is about to happen. It cannot be that a great preacher will be heard from the pulpit, one who will discourse "on the open Buik withoot ony paper at a'," else the women-folk would be trooping inside the kirk, taking their seats, and fortifying themselves with copious inhalations from their white scent-bottles, each one eager to catch the first glimpse of the renowned preacher's face. No; the magnet that has attracted and brought us out in the cold this morning is a different one. A two-days bride will come up the avenue soon, the cynosure of all our eyes ! tell us that they have come here to worship, "jest t' be freen'ly wi' ye, ye ken;" but, alas! curiosity to see the bride has had more to do with it than any freen'liness." Besides, when the service is over they will atone for their backsliding by registering a vow to publish far and near that "they kenna hoo ony ane that hungers an' thirsts for the Wurd cud sit an' hear sic cauld, fooshionless doctrin' frae auld Saunders Macdonald, wha is nae better than a dry stick." There are here, too, some others who are seldom visible in the Lord's house on the Sabbath day. You dare not stay away altogether from the kirks in our parish, or you will be set aside as a rank unbeliever. None are so far down in the scale as that, save and except "awtheist an unbelievin' Joe Forbes." But, as I have hinted, there are a few who contrive to maintain their religious good name by limiting their attendances to the lowest possible number, which we all take to be the Sahcrimint" feast once a year, and at least two other diets of worship. Yonder there is Grizzie Mackeson, the wife of "daft" Johnnie Mackeson, of the Hill Croft, also Pete McKie and his spouse Elspeth, from Cauler Wells, as well as another stranger or two whose desire to see the bride has overcome their laziness, but whose consciences are now clean as polished steel from a sense of duty discharged. "Ae day mair at the kirk aye coonts for somethin', an' naebody can say that we dinna think o' oor latter end, as weel as ither fowk!" So they are perhaps | If ever sat at any good man's feast, saying; but it does not require much If ever from your eyelids wip'd a tear, discernment to know that it is love and And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied, life which rule their thoughts to-day, Let gentleness my strong enforcement be. and not death and judgment. Against the line "if ever been where bells have knoll'd to church," we have But where is the bride? Why tarry the wheels of her chariot? Yes, her chariot; for she will be driven in a smart conveyance to the gate at the entrance to the kirk avenue. Her husband is tenant of the largest holding in our parish, Jabez Farquhar, of the big Still the wind keeps sweeping over our heads, and the notes of the Saw-seen a large characteristic mark in bath bell, rung out by "lang Tanı Rob- Joe's hand, so that the "knolling" of ertson," are carried far away through the Sabbath bell has a perennial music, the parish. By many a hearthstone in it would appear, for the awtheist's soul. many a farm tired workers are sitting, and as the sound of the holy bell (for it always does sound holy) is carried to their ears, they become for the time 66 guid," as they call it, and the day of rest does not pass by without a simple message even for them. Ay, away up within his little hut, dug in the solid"nine horse " farm of Whinny Knowes. rock upon the hillside of Drumean, we could almost swear, if swearing were allowed so near the sacred kirk, that Joe Forbes, the so-called awtheist, is engaged in reading at this moment: O day most calm, most bright! Thy torch doth show the way. But we shall hear more of her story, "She's nae ill-leukin'," says the man frae Claypots. "She's far frae that Aundrew, m' freen," declares the politician, with a judicial air; "bit there's mair in that lass, far mair, than a bonnie face an' braw dress can iver get thegither. There's he'rt, Aundrew; he'rt, man.. Ay, I like weel the soon' o' the auld kirk bell,” we have heard Joe say; "it's auld itsel' an' honest; as for the Free Kirk thing it soon's like the dunt-Oot o' the he'rt proceeds a' guid in' o' a muckle pot.' thing,' continues Francie, looking round to the kirk, as if he were quoting a text which he had heard from the pulpit. 999 Joe Forbes is a reader of John Milton and George Herbert, but he knows little of Shakespeare. One play alone of the dramatist does he possess. Mil- (6 Ay, there's muckle in he'rt, Franton he cons with Johnson's dictionary cie," rejoins Andrew ; 66 some o' us ken in hand, as I have told elsewhere; ower weel what he'rt wull dae." Shakespeare, Joc thinks "easier readin'," "though far ahint the subleemity o' Milton." Now, in "As You Like It" (for that is the play) the awtheist has a favorite passage, and it is this : Then Our friend from Claypots heaves a deep sigh, thinking perhaps of what "he'rt" has done for him, for while he was yet a youth Andrew had taken unto himself a buxom wife, and is now the happy or shall we say sorrowing? - father of a dozen or so.of sons and daughters. Turning to Francie he adds, "I thocht it said in the Buik, Francie, 'Oot o' the he'rt proceed a' evil thochts;' disua it noo?" Andrew has a dim idea that the "Buik" speaks of blessing and cursing as coming out of the mouth, but he rejoins, "I canna contradic' ye, Francie, Bit ye're sae sharp in the tongue. mair by token, when a's said an' deene, if a big he'rt and eident hands cud tak' ony body up tae hiven, there wud be nae fear o' Nancy Eyval gettin' there. Na, nane." away towards heaven through the treetops, where the wind is still careering. "Hard wark was Nancy's, bit wi' her twa han's she keepit her dowie [sick] mither cosy an' comfortable by the ingle neuk till she de'ed, an' the twa bonnie lasses, her sisters, ha'e cause this day tae rise up an' ca' her blessed.” "Ye say what is richt, Aundrew," declares the politician, "an' nae doobt she's got his blessin' the day. We ha’e an ootward an' veesible sign o' it, but, man, it was a queer blessin' that, that awmost sent the lass tae a cauld bed in the saut sea here in bonnie Scotland, and led her that wild dance wi' a da―ahem! — hairum-scairum across the sea in Amerikay.” scamp "I'll nae pretend tae taich you, Francie, na, I'll nae dae that," owns the Claypots crofter, "bit wi’a' defer"She wus only a bairn when auld rence tae yer lang head an' cliver wut, Wullie Eyval gaed oot ac dewy morn-I wud say that by his blessin' she wus in', an' was nae mair heard o'," says the politician. 66 "Saxteen year auld," says Andrew. "I mind it weel," says the politician. I was ane o' them wha was awa' on the look oot for him up an' doon the hills for twa lang days an' nichts, but nane ken whaur he is till this day." "They say he is seen on the muirs at times haudin' awa' like as if he were after the sheep, an' 'tis said tee that Nancy is whiles disturbit wi' his speerit in the nicht." "It maybe or it may na, Aundrew; bit his death, for dead he maun be, had somethin' gey queer in it," adds Francie. saved frae that bed ye spak' o' in the "Ye're bit Andrew turns to Francie with a (( Ay, ay, knowing glance, as if to say, ye ha'e great skeel in turnin' iverything tae yer ain credit," but he says aloud, "Things aye are a' ajee in this warl'. T' think that the vera queer man wha saved her frae drownin' in the Moray Firth, the man forbye that 'Deed an' ye may say it, politee-she lo’ed weel, shud attempt her life in shun," rejoins Andrew; "it's ane o' Amerikay! Ay, it's an up an' doon the things that even ye canna clear warl' this." up, wi' a' yer lang head and yer skeel. It was a sair knock that tae auld Mis-" but ane wud think it's yersel' noo, tress Eyval an' young Nancy." Aundrew, that is queistinin' the weys Prohvidence. Dinna say anither wurd, man, I'll nae argy wi' ye; bre'th's ower short for that." "Ay, it was a' that, an' it fell upon Nancy (an' she no mair than saxteen) tae keep meal in the girnel, cla'es on their backs, an' a hoose ower their heads," says Francie in chorus, "and there was fower a' thegither in the family." "God's ain blessin' wus on her," says the man from Claypots, looking "It's a' that," replies the politician; re "Aweel, say yer says, Francie,' "A wilfu' man maun joins Andrew. ha'e his way. Bit, noo, Francie, jest tell us a' that did happen in that weary Amerikay. Ye ken mair nor maist fowk, I'll nae dený." The politician looks down the avenue | on, an' she leukit a' here an' there for and farther away down the road, and a licht frae some hoose, where, puir seeing yet no signs of the bride and thing, she micht get shalter an' a bed. bridegroom, he clears his throat, and There wus bit ae little ane tae be seen an' she made for it." tells this tale : fisher chiel', Here the politician pauses for a moWeel, Aun-ment, and Andrew helps him on with his story. "Ye'll ha'e seen the Donal' Robb, nae doot. drew, a fine fallow he was tae leuk at, an' it wus him that swam awa' oot an' brocht the lassie Eyval safe tae the shore doon at Bankton, whaun she had been bathin' i' the sea an' was near drooned. Ay, an' she lo'ed him weel for it, and for himsel', an' he made a great wark o' her. B' this time her mither wus laid in the grave, and the ither lasses were deein' weel for theirsel's, sae she was mair free like. Aweel, Donal' maun aff tae Amerikay, as what they ca' an' emigrant, wi' a promise that Nancy should follo' whaun he was fair settl'd doon, an' had a hame for her. Ay, an' syne the ither lasses were tae gang oot tee, after her. Aweel, by an' by he writes a letter, an' awa' Nancy goes, an' tak's ship tae Amerikay. Noo, I'll nae pretend tae declare that what took place ower the sea was jest what I'm gaun tae say, bit I'm nae far oot, Aundrew, I'm nae far oot, man. Awa' into ane o' the back pairts oot there he took 'er, an' I'm thinkin' he had gotten intae real bad weys an' amang ill-deein' men. It's said, Aundrew, that Nancy had a guid bit o' money, for she wus aye a' savin' lass, an' she had gi'en it a' tae Donal', whaun she gat over there. That was jest a' that he wantit, the da-ahem! scamp, sae as they were walkin' awa' oot thro' the countra tae what he ca'd his hame, they cam' tae a place where there wus a lot o' craigs. Aweel, jest in a jiffey he took the puir lassie by the shoothers an' sent her awa' ower ane o'thae craigs, an' aff he ran thinkin' her clean dead. Bit as ye talk o' blessin' an' Prohvidence an' siclike, a mercifu' Prohvidence wus near her then, an' her life wus somehoo' savit by a muckle prick'y bush growin' on the side o' the craig. Ay, she gat safe up tae the tap again, sair cut an' knockit aboot, nae doot, an' she got her siller back tee. Ye see, it wus nicht comin' "I'm thinkin'," says he, "when she gat there she f'und naebody inside." "Tell 't yersel', Aundrew, if sae bę ye ken it," cries the politician, bristling up, but as Andrew now looks contrite he proceeds: "Aweel, as ye say, she f'und nae one inside, bit jest as she was gettin' oot again she heard the soon' o' voices comin' near, an' amang them was that o' the vill'in Donal' Robb! Sae she wus then jest fair in the de'il's moo'. Gang oot and he had 'er; bide in and she wus catch't like a bird. Bit she's a lass wi' a head on her shoothers, Nance Eyval, an' jest at that minut' she cast her e'en upo' a heap o' strae up i' the corner. Afore ye cud coont sax she was clean inside the strae an’ a' covered up. Syne in cam' the men, three o' them, an' they sat doon tae eat an' drink. I hae niver heard what their talkin' was aboot, bit Nancy heard it a', an' ye may weel say it wus jest awfu', jestin' an' lauchin' aboot her death maybe. Bit afore they gaed tae their bed, Nancy heard Donal' say they had better awa' oot an' bury the siller tae mak' it safe, an' she heard the place named by the side o' a bit burnie that tum'lit doon awa' at the hinder end o' the hoose. Aweel, when the men were safe oot, up gat she an' oot tae. She hid hersel' in the bushes till the men cam' back, entered the hutit wus only a hut, Aundrew, nae a house - an' lockit the door. Syne, she up again an' ran doon to the side o' the burn an' f'und the place where her siller was. She diggit it oot wi' her ain sma' hands, an' then a queer thocht cam' in till her head. She had a sma" testament in her pooch, an' she took it oot, wrote inside the cover, I'm no dead but alive. -NANCY EYVAL,' and syne covered it up in the hole. My certie Aundrew, I'se warrant Donal' had a queer feelin' when he f'und the Buik |