LETTERS FROM THE OLD WORLD.

NUMBER LII.

GLASGOW, Jan. 19th, 1858.

MY DEAR FRIEND—I hoped to have sent you a brief scribble by the last week's mail, but I could not accomplish it. Time seems to have taken to himself double wings since he ushered in the year 1858, and I cannot realize that more than half the first month of the 'glad new year' is gone.

You will perceive that I am, once more, in Glasgow,—misty, rainy, Glasgow. It has been very pleasant to meet again the kind friends who first welcomed me to brave old Scotland, the friends whose warm hospitality will never be forgotten.

I am the guest of my valued friends, Dr. and Mrs. Robson. I esteem it a high privilege to be a member of their happy home circle for a brief period. This is home, in every sense of the word—a home of happiness, and peace, and love—a home never clouded by a frown from its inmates—a home of diligence and activity, where many high purposes are formed and carried out in daily practice, and where self-denying duties are performed, and innumerable good works are done, so quietly, and unostentatiously, that, the right hand hardly knows what the left doeth; all jarring words, unkind thoughts, and harsh judgments are banished hence, and (as at Peterboro,) the inmates of this happy home bask in the sunshine of the countenance of him, who is the much loved 'head of the family.' 'It is good to be here.'

Since the new year came in I have been saddened by the news of the death of several valued friends. Among them is the Rev. Alexander White, who was, for the space of 40 years, minister of Fettercairn Kirk. In a recent letter to you, I jocosely referred to chess playing, (when at Balbegno Castle,) and to a short-lived victory won over a first-rate chess-player. Within a month from the time we played that game, one of the players was in eternity. Endowed with intellect of a high order—possessing sparkling wit, and exuberant fancy, of genial nature and kindly sympathies, Mr. White will be sincerely mourned by all who really knew him. I was privileged to meet him often, when in the North

and whenever I now think of Kincardineshire, there will seem a melancholy blank—It must be a satisfaction to my good friends at the Castle to know that, by their invitation, and beneath their roof, Established, Free, and Episcopalian ministers all met in harmony in the social circle; their minor differences, for the time, forgotten, and remembering only the important fact, that they were all ministers of Christ. Realizing this, how tiny and comparatively unimportant are the differences that exist, as to the best mode of governing the various sections of the one Church! and how much it is to be lamented that these minor matters are often thrust into the foreground of the picture, and changed into essentials by angry combatants, many of whom believe themselves to be actuated by zeal for the truth: Cowper says truly, (in his beautiful little poem of 'the Nightingale, and the Glow-worm:')

"—jarring secretaries should learn,
Their real duty to discern,
That brother should not war with brother,
Nor worry and devour each other;
But sing and shine with sweet content.
Till life's poor transient night is spent."

"The time is short." Whatever others do, Christians should find no time to wrangle, as to whether others should have left the Kirk at the disruption, or have stayed in it! It must be a pleasant reflection to the surviving ministers in the neighborhood of Fettercairn, that (whatever their respective congregations did,) they and their departed brother lived in peace and harmony. They are still passing through life's poor, transient night,' but upon him, who has gone before them, has dawned the morning of that day that will never close, for 'there shall be no night there.'

* * * * * *

You will, ere this, have heard of the recent heavy blow that has fallen on our dear Duffield friends. Another sweet blossom has been nipped in the bud, and another hearth left desolate!— May He who alone can comfort the bereaved and sorrowing family, give them 'strength' equal to 'their day,' for their's is a heavy trial. When thinking of her whose 'sun went down ere it was yet noon,' who that knew her, and her much loved, departed sister, will not call to remembrance, Longfellow's sweet lines on 'The Reaper and the Flowers?'

"My Lord hath need of these flowrets gay."
The Reaper said, and smiled,
"Dear tokens of the earth are they
Where he was once a child.
They shall all bloom in fields of light,
Transplanted by my care,
And saints upon their garments white,

These sacred blossoms wear."
"And the mother gave, in tears and pain,
The flowers she most did love;
She knew she slip'd find them all again,
In the fields of light above."

* * * * * *

Glasgow is in a very depressed state, financially. So many failures have taken place in unexpected quarters, and the stoppage of the Western Bank has involved so many families in ruin, that people look aghast at one another, and wonder who will be the next engulphed by this financial earthquake! I am thankful that none, (that I am aware of,) among my intimate friends here, or in Edinburgh, are among the sufferers, but many a tale of woe, ruin, and desolation, has been told me concerning others less fortunate.— It may be said, in a double sense, that "the mourners go about the street." The sad state of affairs in India, and the heavy loss of life there, have involved numerous families in mourning all over the country, and when these are added to the many called upon from time to time, to mourn friends departing this life at home, it is not surprising! that the emblems of grief and woe are seen on all sides of us, silently reminding us of man's mortality. A prayer meeting for India, is held weekly in Glasgow, and the leading ministers preside by turns. I went one evening last week, being desirous to hear the celebrated Rev. Norman Mc'Cleod, who was to preside. The assembly was very large, and the services well conducted, but, having expected great things of Mr. Mc'Cleod, I was, I confess, a good deal disappointed in the address he gave us. You will have heard about the new Lay preacher, BROWNLOW NORTH, ESQ., the brother of an Earl, who is now preaching at all times, and in all pulpits in Scotland. As he was preaching at Dr. Robson's church last week, I went to hear him. The people go in such crowds, that, to keep any degree of order, they have to be admitted by tickets Of most unclerical appearance and deportment is Mr. North. 'None the worse for that,' some brother Jonathan may, perchance, exclaim! Possibly not; I should be glad that more the laity would follow his example, and going out into the highways and hedges, preach to the people. From what I learn, in many quarters, I trust that Mr. Brownlow North's preaching is making a great impression and doing much good. I have no desire to hear him again myself, and cannot understand how, in a city, which abounds in preachers of the first class, he should draw such large audiences.

A striking contrast, in every respect is Mr. Caird, [once of Errol, now of Glasgow,] to whom

I listened on Sunday morning last. The whole service in his Church, was pre-eminently solemn, and beautiful; there were more outward signs of devotion than are generally apparent in the Scotch places of worship, and more stillness during service, and after service, than usually obtains in Scotland. I greatly prefer the preaching in Scotland to that in England, but I exceedingly object to the rushing out of Church in 'hot haste,' the early putting on of hats and noise of feet, so often seen and heard! And while I think with some of the Scotch friends, that to be devout only in 'the letter,' is useless, I also think that real devotion of spirit may be much impeded by noise, and commotion, and hurrying to and fro. Mr. Caird's prayer was one of the most sublime in which I ever joined—nothing was wanting—the singing was fine, and the sermon an able one. He has the most fashionable congregation in this city, and is very popular, in part, for having preached before the Queen and Prince at Balmoral, and having afterwards received orders to publish his discourse.

In the U. P. Church I never remember hearing a poor sermon. So, to say that I heard a fine discourse on Sunday, from Dr. Robson, is superogatory! or to add that the congregation was large. Glasgow is the headquarters of the United Presbyterian Stars; and brilliantly some of them shine! In the Free Church I greatly prefer Dr. Davidson of Aberdeen, ('the king of preachers,' some call him,) and to hear him I would turn aside both from the dramatic Guthrie (greatly as I admire him,) and the mighty Candlish. People who have never been in Scotland, make a strange mistake when they imagine the Sundays here are heavy dull days. Intellectual as well as spiritual food is given out in rich abundance each Sabbath day; and when in listening to such magnificent preachers as Rev. JOHN KER, and Rev. Alex. RALEIGH, the services appear far too short, and too soon over.

* * * * *

We are watching the American news with much interest. [I mean the Slavery news.] I rejoice to see a breach between 'the little Giant' and the President! If the former would repent him of his sins, and henceforth lead an honest political life, he could wield tremendous power for good. I shall never lose my vivid impression of Senator DOUGLAS. He has daring enough for anything, and if he makes up his mind to brave the Administration, he will go through with it. Buchanan seems to me have fallen lower, even than Pierce. It is a disgrace to a professedly Christian people to have such a government at their head, and sometimes I find myself conjecturing whether there will ever be an earth-

quake at Washington? But, praise be to God! His thoughts are not as our thoughts, nor His ways as our ways.' Yet, as surely as the children of Israel were brought out of the land of Egypt, and their enemies overwhelmed with sudden destruction, will the oppressed be delivered from the Southern prison-house, and their oppressors, [except they repent] be engulphed, sooner or later, in ruin. God is now, what He ever was, the God of the oppressed.'

As ever, yours truly,

JULIA GRIFFITHS.