weak and God strong, I preached, I think, a better sermon than I had ever preached before.  But when I got into the vestry I found that I could scarcely stand for trembling; and I must have looked ill, for when my attendant came in he got me a glass of wine without even asking me if I would have it, although it was not my custom to take any there.  But there was one of my congregation that morning who suffered more than I did from the presence of one of those who filled the Hall-pew.

I recovered in a few moments from my weakness, but, altogether disinclined to face any of my congregation, went out at my vestry-door, and home through the shrubbery—­a path I seldom used, because it had a separatist look about it.  When I got to my study, I threw myself on a couch, and fell fast asleep.  How often in trouble have I had to thank God for sleep as for one of His best gifts!  And how often when I have awaked refreshed and calm, have I thought of poor Sir Philip Sidney, who, dying slowly and patiently in the prime of life and health, was sorely troubled in his mind to know how he had offended God, because, having prayed earnestly for sleep, no sleep came in answer to his cry!

I woke just in time for my afternoon service; and the inward peace in which I found my heart was to myself a marvel and a delight.  I felt almost as if I was walking in a blessed dream come from a world of serener air than this of ours.  I found, after I was already in the reading-desk, that I was a few minutes early; and while, with bowed head, I was simply living in the consciousness of the presence of a supreme quiet, the first low notes of the organ broke upon my stillness with the sense of a deeper delight.  Never before had I felt, as I felt that afternoon, the triumph of contemplation in Handel’s rendering of “I know that my Redeemer liveth.”  And I felt how through it all ran a cold silvery quiver of sadness, like the light in the east after the sun is gone down, which would have been pain, but for the golden glow of the west, which looks after the light of the world with a patient waiting.—­Before the music ceased, it had crossed my mind that I had never before heard that organ utter itself in the language of Handel.  But I had no time to think more about it just then, for I rose to read the words of our Lord, “I will arise and go to my Father.”

There was no one in the Hall-pew; indeed it was a rare occurrence if any one was there in the afternoon.

But for all the quietness of my mind during that evening service, I felt ill before I went to bed, and awoke in the morning with a headache, which increased along with other signs of perturbation of the system, until I thought it better to send for Dr Duncan.  I have not yet got so imbecile as to suppose that a history of the following six weeks would be interesting to my readers—­for during so long did I suffer from low fever; and more weeks passed during which I was unable to meet my flock.  Thanks to the care of Mr Brownrigg, a clever young man in priest’s orders, who was living at Addicehead while waiting for a curacy, kindly undertook my duty for me, and thus relieved me from all anxiety about supplying my place.