It is so difficult a matter to tell the story of a man’s life without wearying the audience, that we will make a leap over all the circumstances of Colin’s probation¹ in Scotland, though they were sufficiently² amusing. For, naturally, the presbytery of Glen-Diarmid—in which district the Holy Loch, Colin’s native parish, is situated—were a little at a loss what to make of a Fellow of Balliol when he offered himself for licence. To be sure, they made a long pause over the fact of his Fellowship, which implied that he was a member of the Church of England; but the presbytery permitted Colin to be heard in defence, and he had friends among them, and had sufficient skill with his weapons to perplex and defeat any rising antagonist³. Besides, it was not in the nature of a country presbytery in this tolerant age to be otherwise than a little proud of the academical honours which the young neophyte⁴ bore. “If we accept any lout⁵ who comes up for licence, and refuse a lad of his attainments⁶, what do you suppose the world will think of us?” said one of the more enlightened members of the clerical court, forgetting, as was natural, that the world concerned itself very little with the doings of the presbytery of Glen-Diarmid. “It’s safe to leave all that to the objectors when he comes to be placed,” said another of Colin’s judges, more wary⁷ than his brother; “if he’s not sound, you may trust it to them to find that out,”—and the young man was accordingly endued⁸ with the preliminary privileges of preacher, and licensed⁹ to exercise his gift. Colin had made friends all along the road of his life, as some men are happy enough to do, and had many who would have been pleased to do him a service, and one, as it happened, who at this

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