was published in 1844. The subsequent assail- dency' theory is generally admitted by inants have followed more or less closely in his dependent critics to have been at least a great footsteps. But they have frequently forgotten exaggeration. Such writers as Mangold and the postulates which gave coherence and a Keim, who are quite free from prejudice in a degree of plausibility to his theory. At the conservative direction, maintain that the retime when he wrote, Hegelism was predomi- presentation in the Acts of the relation of the nant in Germany. On the basis of that philo- older Apostles to Paul is substantially consonsophy the historical speculations of Baur were ant with Paul's own testimony in the Galafounded. In history, as in the development tians and elsewhere, and with what is inof mind and in the universe at large, thesis herently probable. Neither John nor Peter begets antithesis, and both, by an inward was a Judaizer. Neither demanded that the momentum, are resolved into a higher unity. Gentile converts should be circumcised. Christianity was treated as an example of There was no such chasm to be bridged over evolution, passing through successive stages as Baur assumed to exist. There was no such according to the method of the Hegelian logic. radical change required to convert John into The church, it was affirmed, was at the outset a liberal-minded Apostle, as Baur affirmed to Ebionitic; Christ was at first held to be only be necessary. This has become evident, a human prophet filled with the Spirit. Then whether the Apostle was the author of the arose the opposite pole of Paulinism, leading Apocalypse or not. As to the New Testament to the conflict of the two types of belief, writings, Hilgenfeld, probably the ablest living and of the followers of Peter and Paul respec- representative of the Tübingen school, now tively. The reconciliation ensued, mediated holds that Paul wrote 1 Thessalonians and first in such writings as the Epistles to the Philippians, together with Philemon, in adColossians and the Philippians, which it was dition to the four great Epistles-1 and 2 denied that Paul wrote, and then in the Logos Corinthians, Galatians, and Romans-which theology as presented in the Gospel and First Baur had allowed to him. The progress is in Epistle, falsely attributed to John. In point the right direction towards the recognition of of fact this apostle wrote only the Apocalypse: Colossians and Ephesians-which Reuss has he was a Judaizer, like the other primitive ably defended-and of other Epistles which, Apostles. The Fourth Gospel followed the more on subjective than historical grounds, great Gnostic systems, and was composed have been called in question. But, even as somewhere between A.D. 160 and 170. In the case now stands among the critics, the funcommon with the Book of Acts and many damental assumption of the Tübingen school, other of the New Testament writings, it was that the primitive type of Christianity was a tendenz-schrift; that is, the product of theo- Ebionitic, has no tenable footing. That aslogical bias or theory; and was composed with sumption is contradicted, as will appear, by the intent to pacify contending parties. It the synoptical Gospels. It is contradicted by the Epistles of Paul, even by those which on all hands are conceded to be genuine. It is unreasonable to assume that he introduced most important elements of doctrine respecting the person of Christ, which the other Apostles must have known that he taught, but against which it is not pretended that they uttered a lisp of dissent. In this altered state of opinion, when the premises of Baur have been so far abandoned, and when his hypothesis respecting the date of the Gospel has been so variously and essentially modified, it remains to be seen whether his general theory as to its authorship can longer be maintained. should be observed that Baur's historical speculation was the counterpart of his metaphysics. It was a naturalistic view growing out of an ideal pantheism. The chronological position assigned to the Fourth Gospel followed from the assumption that Christianity was a development on the plane of nature. It is dangerous to pull away any of the stones in so compact a structure. Yet just this many of the later defenders of the proposition of Baur have undertaken to do. The metaphysical system at the foundation has been generally given up. The date assigned to the Gospel has been almost universally abandoned. The force of The force of the historical proofs has obliged the critics to push it back towards the beginning of the century. They have been unable, however, to find a point where the composition of the book could be securely placed. Keim first put it between A.D. 100 and 117, but finally fixed it at 130. Wherever the date is set, obstacles and difficulties spring up to necessitate a change. Meantime it is frequently overlooked that this departure from Baur on the chronological question imperils the whole scheme of doctrinal development of which his view on this point formed an essential element, and thus shakes to the foundation the critical fabric so laboriously built up by the Tübingen master. Morever, the historical postulates of Baur have been proved to be untenable. The 'ten The farther back it is found necessary to shift the date of the Gospel, the more menacing is the situation for the theory of non-apostolic authorship. Keim is not alone in the retreat from the old ground taken by Baur and Volckmar. Hilgenfeld is not disposed to deny that the Fourth Gospel was used by Justin, and therefore places its origin between A.D. 130 and 140. Renan, after not a little vacillation, now holds that it saw the light in A.D. 125 or 130. Schenkel fixes on a date ten years earlier, A.D. 115-120, which is somewhat later than the limits first assigned by Keim. When it is considered that the Apostle John, according to the universal and well-grounded tradition of the ancient Church, died at a very advanced age at Ephesus, Keim's opinion, even his final opinion, as to the date when the Gospel was in use would appear to exclude absolutely the assumption that it was a spurious work. How could a book of this kind be palmed off on the churches, including the church at Ephesus, with no longer interval between its appearance and the Apostle's death? To meet the exigency, Keim boldly affirmed that the Apostle John never lived at Ephesus, and that the belief of the ancient Church that he resided there and died there was all a mistake! This was to strike at the corner-stone of the Tübingen historical theory, which rested on the Johannine authorship of the Apocalypse. Keim's novel and adventurous opinion has been effectually confuted by Hilgenfeld and Krenkel. The supposition that Irenæus confounded John the Apostle with another John, John the Presbyter, is next to impossible. He had a perfectly distinct recollection of Polycarp, and of his reminiscences of the apostle. In a letter to Victor, bishop of Rome, Irenæus referred to the visit of Polycarp to that city (A.D. 155), and to the appeal which that venerable bishop made to the instruction which he had received from John and other Apostles. If there was an error in this statement of Irenæus, it would have been evident at Rome, where the facts concerning Polycarp's visit were remembered. It is not alone from Polycarp directly that Irenæus was informed of his recollections of John. The story of the apostle's meeting the heretic Cerinthus in the bath he had received from individuals to whom Polycarp had related it. Not Polycarp alone, but other elders also, who had known John, are referred to by Irenæus. Polycarp was not the sole link connecting him with John. He had, moreover, before him the work of Papias, in which the Apostle is plainly distinguished from the Presbyter of the same name. Keim's hypothesis attributes to Irenæus an incredible misunderstanding. If he was in error in saying that Papias had been taught by the Apostle, of which we cannot be certain, this circumstance will not for a moment warrant such an inference as Keim would deduce from it. As Renan says, we cannot suppose a falsehood on the part of Irenæus; but this, as the same writer implies, we should have to suppose if we hold that John did not live in Asia. Other witnesses besides Irenæus testify to the sojourn of the Apostle there: Apollonius, an Asiatic bishop and an earlier writer; Polycrates, himself a bishop of Ephesus, who was born as early as A.D. 125; Clement of Alexandria, who relates the incident-whether it be true or not is immaterial in the present argument of John's conversion of the apostate youth who had become a robber. Other early legends relating to the apostle imply at least the knowledge that he had lived at Ephesus. Justin Martyr (A.D. 140-160) and all others who attribute the Apocalypse to the Apostle John virtually testify to the same fact. Keim holds that the author of the Gospel, whoever he was, proceeded on the supposition that John had lived in Asia Minor; so that at least as early as A.D. 130 the belief must have prevailed that the Apostle had dwelt there. The traces of the influence of John in Asia were distinct and permanent. There was in reality, as Lightfoot has shown, a later 'school of John,' a class of writers coming after Polycarp and Papias, and including Melito of Sardis, Claudius Apollinaris, and Polycrates, who bear incontestable marks of the peculiar influence of John's teaching. Keim's conjecture falls to the ground before these strong and multiplied historical proofs. And Irenæus states that the Apostle John was alive at the accession of Trajan, A.D. 98. With this positive assertion of one who was in a position to ascertain the fact agree the traditions relative to John as an old man, to which reference has been made in later ecclesiastical writers. Clement's account of the rescue of the outlaw chief, and Jerome's interesting narrative of the aged apostle's method of addressing his flock, indicate a general belief that his life was protracted to extreme old age. We are authorised by evidence which cannot be successfully impugned in picturing to ourselves the Apostle John, near the close of the first century, at Ephesus, a flourishing centre of Christianity, surrounded by disciples whom he had trained, and who, in common with the churches in all that district, looked up to him with affectionate reverence. now, if he did not write the Gospel which bears his name, how did those disciples and churches come to believe that he did? How did all the churches in the second century acquire the same conviction? Many of those disciples of John were living at the time when the Gospel is admitted to have been in circulation. But nothing would be gained for the sceptical cause if the assumed date of its first appearance could be brought down to a later day. Where had this remarkable document lain during the long interval? What warrant was there for accepting a narrative so unique, so different from the first three Gospels and from the established tradition? Can we believe that there was nobody to ask these questions? Is it credible that a new history of Jesus would have made its way, under these circumstances, to universal acceptance without the least scrutiny? If spurious, very little inquiry would have sufficed to expose its false pretentions. The striking peculiarities of the Gospel, not to speak of the fact, which demanded explanation, of its late appearance, would have compelled doubt and dispute. The microscopic examination of particular passages in the Fathers, and the discussion of special points of evidence about which a contest may be raised, has availed of late to cover as in a mist the more comprehensive features of proof. The great strength of the external argument for the genuineness of the Gospel has seldom been justly appreciated by friend or foe. (To be continued.) THE LINDSAYS OF REDKNOCK HAU G H. BY MARY DOIG, AUTHOR OF CHAPTER X. 'It was such pleasure to behold him, such -BYRON. EEKS pass on, and Ralph, who lives as a member of the household at The Ashes, respects and admires more and more the remarkable man in whose house he sojourns. Stobow is a remarkable mixture of dreamy enthusiasm and practical sense. He is one who sees visions and dreams dreams; yet there is not a better farmer for miles round, nor one who works harder, while his natural eloquence in pleading the cause of the Covenant has raised more recruits for the Covenanting army than any man of his time. For the farmer's wife, too, Ralph has a sincere regard, knowing that she is so true a friend, although her reserved nature makes her choose usually rather to listen than to speak. Lilias resembles her father much, both in face and disposition. She has the same fearless nature, the same brilliant eyes when excited, although a great share of her mother's reserve renders her enthusiasm less observable than it otherwise might have been; and, although Ralph feels much interest in her, he little suspects the intense love she has for him. Since that dark December afternoon when she admitted the wanderer to their home, and learned that he was the son of the martyr whose blood had fallen on her infant face, life has been for her a strange delight, a wild enthusiasm, as if the richest chords of music were for ever thrilling through her. And if in her intense enjoyment of the present her thoughts will at times go forth to the future, her day-dreams are not like those of most girls, but assign to the object of her strange love the triumphs of a martyr's death, which she shall see. Thus the winter passes, and the seed-time comes, with its ceaseless singing of larks; and, after the day's toil is over, Stobow and his young sojourner go often together to the Tulliallan woods, where, beneath the tall firtrees, the Covenanting farmer relates to the martyr's son some strange prophetic dream, or makes known to him his plan of gathering together there a great assemblage of the persecuted people. By the time all arrangements are made for this gathering the roads are bordered with the whin's sweet-scented gold, the fresh green leaves are appearing on the trees, the lapwings are leading their young ones through the springing corn, in the deep recesses of the woods the does are rearing their fawns, for April is far advanced. ROSALIA VANDERWERF,' ETC. CHAPTER XI. "They heeded not The spent sun closing at the curtained west His burning journey; what was time to them Who heard, entranced, the Eternal Word of God?' -SIGOURNEY. It is Saturday evening; the day, though mild, has been cloudy, but ere its close the sun shines forth bright and warm, promising a day of beauty on the morrow. At The Ashes Mrs Stobow and her young daughter are busy with many preparations, for three of the ministers are to be guests there. The Sabbath dawns, and by break of day many are on their way to the assembly. By early morning, Hab, with his father, mother, and Nellie, are in the boatman's cottage at Borrowstounness, waiting the incoming tide. The Firth is calm, and the air is so still that there is not wind enough to fill the sails; so they row across, landing near Torry, under the little hill of Dunniquarle, on which little hill they wait till James has laid his boat in a suitable position for their return at night. The beauty and peace of the scene are in keeping with the sacred day, for the morning is fair and fresh as ever April morning was. Arrived at The Ashes, Ralph and Hab have a pleasant talk together ere it is time for public worship. When they reach the place appointed, a great company is already seated on the green heather and many-coloured moss, while the old fir-trees, the branches of which are tipped with brighter green, fill the air with their resinous scent. Many ministers are there who, when the call came, went out, not knowing whither they went,' and all of whom have suffered many hardships since, yet there is not one among them who, for all the world, would exchange places with the curate who has succeeded him in his pleasant manse. It is a great day, and the sun is set ere the closing psalm is sung; and the people take their several ways, some in silence, others in little groups, speaking of things unseen. The Master has been wi' us the day,' says an old man from the village of Torryburn. 'Ay,' says a woman from the same place; yet we grat sair when we had to leave our kirk; but the Lord has spread a table for us in the wilderness. 'An' wha wad seek to enter the kirk,' says her sister, whan its doors hae been barred by the rulers o'the land against the King o' Sion?' 'They may send us to the ends o' the earth,' says a younger man, who has kept silence till now-they may send us to the ends o' the earth, but they canna send us out o' the kirk.' 'An' I trow,' says the old man, 'that e'en in this land there'll be a seed to serve the King o' kings as lang as the sun and the moon endure.' The company from the other side of the Firth walk together to the place where the boat was moored in the morning, the water now bridged over with a silvery way of light; then Ralph returns to The Ashes alone, and the boat goes back over the moonlit sea. But there are new thoughts and a new joy in the strong rower's heart, for he has chosen this day whom he shall serve, and is resolved that, come of it what may, As for him and his house, they shall serve the Lord.' Two months have passed, and the whins and broom by the wayside have given place to the wild briar roses and great white oxeyed daisies, when word comes that Spence of Moss-bog has been thrown from his horse, and is in the meantime, at least, disabled from acting the part of an informant, so that Ralph can for the present safely return home. Meanwhile Stobow, who has been the means of gathering together in different parts of the country congregations similar to those held in the Tulliallan woods, and has been raising many recruits for the Covenanting army, has been sought for frequently by detachments of the King's troops without success. At last, however, Captain Creichton, with an ensign and a company of foot-guards, are sent out in pursuit of him. It is an autumn night, and a red harvest moon is rising as the troops enter Culross. 'We must lay hold of two or three rebels here,' says Creichton, 'ere we lay hold of that man, Adam Stobow, for by his skill in canting and praying he has done more mischief than any man I know.' Having discovered the houses of these socalled rebels, they enter, seizing one as he sits unsuspectingly at his evening meal; they watch another returning home, and lay hold of him in the street; while a third is surprised at his evening worship, and made a prisoner ere he is aware. Leaving the ensign with the greater part of the troops to watch the prisoners, Creichton, with a few soldiers to assist him, sets off while it is yet dark in the direction of The Ashes. A friend of Stobow's, however, having watched the movements of the troops, and discovered their intentions, reaches the farm a little before the arrival of his pursuers. There is but short time for escape, so Stobow betakes himself to the kiln, where he hides, a heap of straw being thrown in the passage, for his enemies have sometimes failed to find him in like circumstances; and he hopes that, when the soldiers have searched the house, where he is not to be found, they may pass on, thinking that he has gone to a distance. The morning is breaking when Creichton and his followers arrive, and happening to observe the heap of straw, he orders the kiln to be searched, and Stobow is seized. Lilias, who has been hiding where she can see her father's place of concealment, rushes forward and begs his captors to let him go. Finding, however, that her tears and entreaties are vain, she runs to the house, where her mother is expecting the arrival of the soldiers, and by her advice returns, offering Creichton one hundred dollars if he will set her father free. To this he will not listen; and Stobow is led off to Culross, from whence, with the other prisoners taken there, he is conducted to Edinburgh, where he is kept in confinement till his trial comes. CHAPTER XIII. 'They shot him at the Ninestane Rig, And they left him lying in his blood -BARTHRAM'S DIRGE. Ralph being now at home, all for a time goes on peacefully. Spence, however, recovers, and with his restored health returns to the office of informant. He has, fortunately, however, made known his intentions to one of his men, who is acquainted with Hab, who makes him aware of his master's designs. There is a ruined cottage on the moor which is believed to be haunted by an unhappy ghost. None, therefore, willingly passes it by after nightfall. Ralph thinks of this as a hiding-place, the terror with which it is surrounded making it in some degree safe from living foes. It is March, and a premature warmth has made the winter appear to be thoroughly over, when Ralph, hearing of the arrival of dragoons in the neighbourhood, betakes himself to this place of refuge, only venturing home occasionally in the darkness. And if, when wandering over the moor in daylight, he sees in the distance a figure approaching, he flies swift as a hunted hare, or hides among the whins till all is silent again. Frequently in the twilight does his mother pursue her way over the swampy moor, Hab going for her to take her home in the dark, after which he not seldom returns to spend the whole night with his foster-brother, arriving at Redknock Haugh only before daylight. March is near its end, when the mildness and sunshine of early spring are succeeded by a deep fall of snow and piercing winds of icy bitterness. Ralph, hardy as he is, has at last fallen sick, and, sorely distressed as Mrs Lindsay is at the thought of the damp and dreary dwelling where he lies, she fears to have him brought home, and rather goes nightly to kindle a fire and prepare food. One night Nellie has gone for this purpose, and, after having remained some time with Ralph, she begins to wonder why Hab has not yet come. Another hour passes, and at last she thinks that she must face the darkness alone, saying, as she sets out, that she hopes to see 'naething waur than hersel'.' She has not gone very far, however, when she fears that her hope is not to be realised, for a heavy groan falls on her ear, and, thinking that it is the cry of the wandering ghost of the place whom Ralph has dislodged from its place of shelter, she turns to run. The sound is repeated, and as, in spite of her terror, she looks around, she sees by the light of the moon, which shows itself at times from out of the driving clouds, what seems to her a human figure stretched on the ground, and as she stands, unable to run for fear, she hears a voice cry out, 'Nellie, is that you?' 'Spence o' Moss-bog,' is the answer. 'But, Nellie,' he adds, ye'll no leave me, for it's eerie to gang yer lane in the mirk.' 'Wae's me, Hab,' says Nellie, 'it wad be waur than eerie gin ye had to gang yer lane; but I trow ye'll no hae that to dae.' Then, kneeling beside him in the swampy moss, she continues, 'I mind weel whan the preacher was here in the simmer o' hearin' yer voice in the 23d Psalm, loud and gladsome like— "Yea, though I walk in death's dark vale, For Thou art with me; and Thy rod And surely ye can say that now.' 'Ay, Nellie, I think I can,' says Halbert. 'And, Hab,' continues Nellie, 'whan I was sayin' yestreen that ye wad be cauld waitin' out in the meltin' snaw, ye said that, for yer foster-brither's sake, it was a pleasure. An', gin it's a pleasure to bear onything for him, will ye grudge to die for Him wha died for you?' Hab's life is ebbing fast away, but Nellie sees by the fitful light of the moon an answering look in his dying eyes. When all is over, Nellie rises, and makes her way over the moor alone; and when at last she reaches Redknock Haugh, she meets Mrs Lindsay with these words, 'It's no Maister Ralph, he's gettin' better; but Hab, puir laddie, Hab's gane, shot by Spence of Moss-bog, whase hands are stained sae deep already wi' the bluid o' the children o' Sion.' When the morning dawns, John Futheringham takes a cart and horse, and goes, accompanied by a neighbour and Nellie, for the body of his son. They find him lying on the dreary moor, stiff and bloody, the cold morning light shining on his face, and the sleet frozen in his crisp red hair; and so they take him home, and bury him with his forefathers. But Halbert's is a martyr's grave. AND HOW THEY RAISED MONEY FOR MISSIONS. MISSIONARY came to the Stone Hill Church. The members were really interested. They wanted to do something, they said, but they hadn't any ready money. The missionary replied that he didn't want money; he would take produce. He spoke to them thus: 'I know your circumstances well. Here you are a little farming community; you've only got about sixty members in your church; most of you are scattered about on a dozen farms. Now, wouldn't you be willing to give a little wheat and a few potatoes and a few apples to spread your Master's gospel? Very well. Now I don't want money; I'll take produce. Honour the Lord with the first fruits of all thine increase.' 'You leave all that to me,' said the missionary. 'You do just as I say. Get an old flour barrel, or a bag, or a box of any kind, and mark on it, " For the Lord;" then, when you gather your wheat, take a bushel, or a half-bushel, if you think the other too much, and put it into the sack that belongs to the Lord. At another time, do the same with your oats; and when the season comes round, put in a bushel of apples; and then, later, your bushel of potatoes. Perhaps your wives and daughters would agree to give a pound of butter or a dozen of eggs. You will be surprised how it will mount up.' 'But how will you get possession of the produce?' Oh,' he replied, 'I will get you to bring it to the village some time when you are coming in on business. Brother Elwell will receive it at his store, and turn it into money; after which it will be easy enough to send it.' In the main, the plan seemed reasonable, but they doubted whether it would work well. 'Well, well,' they said, 'it looks fair enough; it would be no harm to try it for a single time, only we might not get a good price for these donations of produce.' 'Don't trouble yourself about that,' said the missionary; as soon as you have measured out your bushel into the Lord's sack, your work will be over; let it remain at the Lord's risk; whether it sells for little or much, it is His business. If any of it rots or is eaten by rats, or if it meets with any accident, still consider it the Lord's loss, and not yours.' They laughed at his idea. Three or four |