diligence, and activity in all departments of ministerial labour, as told finally upon the spirit and practice of the whole ministry of Scotland. When Dr. Chalmers came to Glasgow, unnoticed thousands of the city population were sinking into ignorance, infidelity, and vice, and his eye was the first in this country to foresee to what a fearful magnitude that evil, if suffered to grow on unchecked, would rise; when he left it, his ministry in that city remained behind him, a permanent warning to a nation which has been but slow to learn that the greatest of all questions, both for statesmen and for churchmen, is the condition of those untaught and degraded thousands who swarm now around the base of the social edifice, and whose brawny arms may yet grasp its pillars to shake or to destroy. When Dr. Chalmers came to Glasgow, in the literary circles of the Scottish metropolis a thinly disguised infidelity sat on the seats of greatest influence, and smiled or scoffed at a vital energetic faith in the great and distinctive truths of revelation, while widely over his native land the spirit of a frigid indifference to religion prevailed; when he left it, the current of public sentiment had begun to set in a contrary direction; and although it took many years, and the labour of many other hands, to carry that healthful change onward to maturity, yet I believe it is not over-estimating it to say, that it was mainly by Dr. Chalmers' ministry in Glasgow—by his efforts at this period in the pulpit and through the press—that the tide of national opinion and sentiment was turned."
Dr. Chalmers delivered his farewell sermon on November 9 (1823), and on this occasion such was the crowding, not only of his affectionate flock, but admirers from every quarter, that the church, which was built to accommodate 1700 hearers, on this occasion contained twice that number. On the 11th, a farewell dinner was given to him by 340 gentlemen; and at the close, when he rose to retire, all the guests stood up at once to honour his departure. "Gentlemen," said the doctor, overwhelmed by this last token, and turning repeatedly to every quarter, "I cannot utter a hundredth part of what I feel—but I will do better—I will bear it all away." He was gone, and all felt as if the head of wisdom, and heart of cordial affection and Christian love, and tongue of commanding and persuasive eloquence, that hitherto had been the life and soul of Glasgow, had departed with him. If anything could have consoled him after such a parting, it must have been the reception that welcomed his arrival in St. Andrews, where he delivered his introductory lecture seven days after, the signal that his new career of action had begun.
So closely had Dr. Chalmers adhered to his clerical duties in Glasgow to the last, that on his arrival in St. Andrews, his whole stock for the commencement of the course of Moral Philosophy consisted of only a few days' lectures. But nothing can more gratify an energetic mind that has fully tested its own powers, than the luxury of such a difficulty. It is no wonder, therefore, to find him thus writing in the latter part of the session: "I shall be lecturing for six weeks yet, and am very nearly from hand-to-mouth with my preparations. I have the prospect of winning the course, though it will be by no more than the length of half-a-neck; but I like the employment vastly." Most of these lectures were afterwards published as they were written, a sure indication of the deeply-concentrated power and matchless diligence with which he must have occupied the winter months. It was no mere student auditory, also, for which he had exclusively to write during each day the lecture of the morrow; for the benches of the class-room were crowded by the intellectual from every quarter, who had repaired to St. Andrews to hear the doctor's eloquence upon a new theme. Even when the
