from different academic years, were linked together by religious affinities and by the memories of college friendships, under the presidency of a dear old Scotchman, Provost Swan of Kirkcaldy, at whose country house—Springfield—the first gatherings of the brotherhood took place. For more than twenty years the brotherhood has met in some quiet retreat for a week each season—a week which has been a big element in the intellectual and spiritual life of its members. The names of some of the brotherhood are known in America—Dr. James Stalker, Dr. John Watson, and Dr. George Adam Smith. In this little circle of old college friends Henry Drummond had a unique place. His mere presence was a perpetual benediction. His courtesy and thoughtfulness for others were unfailing; his playful humor was like glints of sunshine; and in the years when his name had become a household word in English-speaking countries, his forgetfulness of self was a rebuke to every vain and selfishly ambitious temper.
Drummond was a good talker; but what was more striking than his talk was his capacity for listening. There was a genuine modesty in him which made it easy for him to assume the attitude of a learner, even toward those whose knowledge gave them less right to speak than himself. He stooped to learn where another would have exalted himself to teach. Often it would happen that a theological discussion would go on for an hour or two in which Drummond took no part. He would lie back in an easy-chair listening in perfect silence. Then at the end he would ask a quiet question, or make an epigrammatic remark, which was more luminous than all our talk. Drummond was fond of a quiet tête-à-tête carried on to the early morning hours. With that modesty which never failed him, he assumed that his friend had much to teach him, and sat at his feet as a learner. It was himself probably, with his questions, suggestions, and caveats, who was kindling the light, but he put it down to the other's credit. There was a kind of witchery in his personality which drew the intellectual as well as moral best out of a man.
In the autumn of 1877 he began his work as a lecturer on natural science in the Free Church Theological Hall of Glasgow. He was in the habit of winding up the college session by inviting his class to a week's excursion in Arran for field work in the subjects of class study—geology, botany, and zoölogy. "We wound up with four days' geologizing in Arran, and had a glorious time. Eleven men mustered—the cream of the class, and we hammered the island almost to bits. Nothing left but the hotel and a ledge of rock to smoke on." Such days of companionship with this genial leader are a happy memory, even for those who cared little for the paleozoic, mesozoic and cainozoic periods.
During all the years he was lecturer on science his heart was in evangelism. "I want a quiet mission somewhere, entry immediate, and self-contained if possible. Do you know such a place?" He found this quiet mission in Possil Park, where Dr. Marcus Dod's congregation were fostering a new church in a suburb inhabited by artisans. It was here that "Natural Law in the Spiritual World" had its genesis, as he tells in the preface: "It has been my privilege for some years to address regularly two very different audiences on two very different themes. On week days I have lectured to a class of students on the natural sciences, and on Sundays to an audience for the most part of workingmen on subjects of a moral and religious character. . . . The two fountains of knowledge began to overflow, and finally their waters met and mingled."
As to the impression produced by his ministry upon the artisans of Possil Park, a little incident which came to my knowledge is a more eloquent testimony than any labored description. A woman whose husband was dying came to Mr. Drummond late on a Saturday evening, and asked him to come to the house. "My husband is deein', sir; he's no' able to speak to you, and he's no' able to hear you; but I would like him to hae a breath o' you aboot him afore he dees."
PROFESSOR DRUMMOND AS AN AUTHOR.
Another stage in Mr. Drummond's career was marked by the publication in 1883 of "Natural Law in the Spiritual World." For a year or two before its publication the "message" of the book lay upon him like the "burden" of an Old Testament prophet which he must somehow get uttered. In his evangelistic teaching there were two dominant thoughts—the distinctiveness of the Christian life and the reality of conversion. It broke upon him that both of these thoughts were vouched for by science. It was natural that he should exclaim with the enthusiasm of one who had made a great discovery, Eureka! If truths which were uncongenial not only to the world of scientific culture,
