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the person in cases where no redemption of tithe has taken place. Thus the clergyman will retain his independence quite as effectually as he retains it at present, and all the evils attendant upon the tithe-system will be done away.

If it be said that these arrangements, though they might no doubt benefit the clergy, instead of relieving, would only throw a double burden upon the land, I reply, that the very reverse is the case, as the following calculation will prove.

I do not believe that I place any immoderate value upon the whole tithes of England, as well those enjoyed by lay-impropriators, by bishops, schools, and colleges, as those retained by the parochial clergy, when I estimate the annual amount at 10s. per acre. In the southern counties, at least, where the cultivators are well pleased to pay a composition of 15s. for wheat, 12s. for lent corn, and a guinea for hops, I am certain that this average is moderate. The average rent of the land in England cannot, on the other hand, be taken at a higher amount than 40s., and this, when reduced by the expenses attendant upon repair of houses, &c. &c. which the landlord is bound to defray, will bring the free rent down as low as 30s. The fifth part of L.1:10s. is, however, as Mr Bonnycastle assures us, just 6s.-here, then, even in the case of tithe valued, is a clear saving to each proprietor of 4s. per acre. But supposing all landlords disposed to redeem the tithes, as would probably be the case when ever redemption was attainable, what would be the cost of the measure? Those who purchased from lay-impropriators would pay L.1: 16s. per acre; those who transacted business with appropriators, L.2: 14s.-sums altogether unworthy of notice, when the amount of the benefit secured, is taken into consideration.

Well, but are not the minister's stipend and the repair of the church and manse to be provided for by those heritors who redeem their tithes, or will not these expenses bring things back to their former level? By no means. Whilst government ought particularly to guard against reducing the established clergy to indigence, equal care should be taken that their revenues be not too great. A very poor and a very rich priesthood are equally

hurtful in all countries. One of your correspondents has accordingly fixed the minimum of a minister's stipend at L.150, and the maximum at 1.300 a-year; but he who drew this estimate, though evidently a man of no ordinary talent, must be wofully ignorant of the expenses to which every clergyman in England is liable. Á poor man's cow never dies in his parish but the minister is applied to to draw up a petition-of course he must himself subscribe his crown or halfsovereign. A cottager's wife is never brought to bed but the parson is sent to for linens, gruel, and comfits. A school is established--to this he must subscribe his two, three, and five guineas annually;-a lying-in charity is set a-going-to that he gives his guinea. No calamity or accident occurs in his neighbourhood, to the alleviation of which he is not expected to contribute. Could all this be done out of an income of L.150 a-year? Nor is this all. The education of an English clergyman has been of such a nature, as not only to fit him for the higher walks of life, but to throw him, from his boyhood, into the way of forming connexion with the wealthy and the titled of the land. Can these be kept up, or can a clergyman support the appearances which he is expected to support, and the keeping up of which tends, in no slight degree, to render him useful even among the poor, upon so miserable a pittance as L.150 a-year?-No, no. These are not times, when even the minimum of ecclesiastical benefices can, in this country at least, be thus taken. On the contrary, I am fully persuaded, that I reduce the thing to its lowest practicable amount, when I take L.400 as the minimum,and L.1000 as the maximum, leaving the intermediate sums to be apportioned according as circumstances may require. Thus, in London, and its immediate vicinity, L.1000 a-year are absolutely necessary to the decent support of a clergyman- (why, in Edinburgh, they have L.700;) in commercial towns, and expensive watering-places, L.700 a-year are not too much, whilst in retired country-parishes, where provisions are comparatively cheap, L.400 annually may be deemed sufficient. Not one of these, however, is too great, as every unprejudiced and well-informed person must allow.

To bring matters to this, great chan

ges must of course be made in the extent of the various parishes in the kingdom. In country places, I would therefore recommend, that instead of leaving some at the present enormous rate of six, seven, ten, and twelve thousand acres, while others hardly comprehend one thousand, an average should be taken of three thousand; and that the bounds of all parishes should be made to include that space. Were this arrangement brought about, each parish which paid its minister a stipend of £400 a-year (and a countless proportion would pay no more), would be burthened with an annual rate of two shillings and fourpence per acre, a sum less by two-thirds, even after the interest of the redemption money has been added to it, than is at this moment paid, in the form of tithes, by any parish in England. Would not this benefit the land-owners to the full as much as it would benefit the clergy?

es, necessary. When a living amounts, as perhaps one half of the livings in England amount, to less than L.150 a-year, it is quite impossible that the incumbent can subsist; and hence the patron, who has given him one, has no scruple in giving him another. I admit, indeed, that pluralities are enjoyed in too many instances, where no plea of necessity can be urged,—but the only way to prevent this, is to make every benefice capable of maintaining its incumbent.

Having thus provided for the decent maintenance of the clergy out of the tithes, wherever tithes had been previously due, the legislature ought next to take the situation of town and city ministers into consideration; as in some of the livings there is little or no source from which tithes can be collected, a valuation of the houses ought to be made, and a certain sum, upon the free rent of each, assigned to the minister for his support. This, in all cases, ought to be arranged, that the stipend of an urbane incumbent fall not short of £500; and when it is thus fixed, let all other sources of revenue be abolished. Let no more Fees or Easter-offerings be accepted, for they are pitiful and beggarly collections at the best, and leave an unkindly feeling on the minds both of those who give, and of him who takes them. As I said before, let London livings bring in their thousand pounds, and livings in Brighton, Manchester, and other similar towns, their seven hundred pounds, annually; but five hundred would be amply sufficient in York, Durham, or Canterbury.

As each benefice, under this new arrangement, would be fully adequate to the support of an incumbent, the legislature ought immediately to abolish pluralities. Pluralities are truly said to be wens and blotches on the face of the church; but as matters stand at present, they are, in some cas

With respect to the higher departments of the church, the bishoprics, deaneries, archdeaneries, prebendal stalls, fewer alterations appear necessary. He who would sweep away the best of them, would annihilate the church-he would pull down the altar-would deprive her of the highest incitement which she holds out to diligence and theological research among her clergy. One regulation, indeed, might, I think, be adopted with great effect. Let fewer stalls be given to men of no eminence, merely because they chance to be the sons of the nobility, and a greater number to men of acknowledged talent; and let no man hold stalls in two cathedrals at the same time. It is a great deal too bad to see an honourable and reverend blockhead filling dignities in two or three different dioceses, whilst such men as Doctor Nares, for example, are left to spend their lives in an obscure parsonage in the country.

Touching the bishoprics again, I cannot but think, that the legislature would act wisely, if, instead of leaving them as they at present stand, it would so far put the one on a footing of equality with the other, on the score of revenue, as to preclude all necessity of translation. The translation of a bishop from one diocese to another is attended with serious evils to the church, whilst the expectation of being speedily removed seldom fails of rendering the expectant more or less a useless overseer of Christ's flock. Thus, where a man of family is appointed to a poor see, knowing, as he is led to know, that his present is no more than a step to future preferment, he becomes morally satisfied that it is not worth his while to make himself intimately acquainted with the circumstances and character of his clergy, in as much as his connexion with them is but temporary. He therefore knows little about

them to the last. On the other hand, he who has no ground to expect a removal, applies himself to the acquisition of this important branch of knowledge. But just as he had begun to acquire it-just as he had begun to feel an interest in his clergy, and the clergy in return had begun to look up with affectionate respect towards him, the Minister takes a liking to him, and he is removed to a richer bishopric. Of course, all his labour must be gone through a second time, whilst the clergy, from whom he is separated, are left to form an acquaintance with their new Diocesan, instead of reaping the benefits of an acquaintance already formed. This ought not to be. The two Archbishoprics must, indeed, be kept as they are, because, the rank of these prelates requires a larger revenue to support it than that of others. But among the resources of the suffragan bishops, we should have no such variations as one to be paid between L.30,000, and L.600 a-year. A bishop with L.5000 a-year would, in any diocese, be wealthy enough,-nor would he be anywhere too wealthy with that annual revenue.

Such are the changes which alone appear necessary to bring the ecclesiastical establishment of England as near to perfection as it falls to the lot of any human institution to attain. That they can be brought about with out patience, perseverance, and address, on the part of government, is not to be expected; but if ever there was a period in our national history when an attempt of the kind might be made, that period is the present. Twelve

VOL. XVII.

years ago, we were engaged in a war unparalleled in its magnitude,—and, to all appearance, without end. We are now at profound peace with the whole world. Our exchequer was then exhausted-our population discontented, because poor-our manufacturers idle -our trade in a state of stagnationto have attempted anything like a radical change in any department of the commonwealth, would have been madness. Now the public resources of the empire are flourishing-our manufacturers are all busy-our commerce is daily extending-and, above all, our government is, to an unexampled degree, popular-What has that government to look to, except the internal administration of the country? And what department of its administration affects the welfare of the people half so much, as the national religion?

Let government take this measure up, and they need not dread the absence of support. No doubt, they will be opposed by the mass of impropriators

perhaps a small proportion of the clergy may join in this opinion-but let them go on. There is a preponderating majority of freeholders who pay tithe over freeholders who receive it

there is a preponderating majority among the clergy, who, having no hopes themselves of obtaining livings to the amount of three or four thousand ayear, would rejoice to see pluralities abolished. Let the ministry make but the attempt to remodel the impropriations of the church, and they must succeed, for these, to a man, would support them.

2 A

THE SHEPHERD'S CALENDAR.

Class V-The Lasses.

(Continued from Vol. XV. Page 304.)

"How came the twa moorland chiels on at the courting the other night?"

"It's hard to say; there are various accounts about the matter."

"What does the smith say?-for, though his sentences are but short, he says them loud enough, and often enough ower, an' fo'ks reckon there's aye some truth in the foundation."

"I can tell ye what he says, for I heard him on the subject oftener than aince, and his information was precisely as follows:- The Tod's bairns maun gang now, lads-I'm saying, the Tod's bairns maun gang now-ch, Menye?-fairly run down. Half-adozen tykes ower sair for ae young Tod-eh? Fairly holed the young ane, it seems-I'm saying, the young ane's holed. Nought but a pick and shool wantit to howk her. Jewel has gi'en mouth there-I'm saying, auld Jewel has gi'en mouth there. Poor Wat has been obliged to turn to the auld anehe's on the full track o' her-I'm saying, he's after her, full trot. But some thinks she'll turn her tail to a craig, an' wear him up. It was Wat that got the honour o❜ the beuk, though I'm saying, it was him that took the beuk-wan gloriously through, too. The saxteenth o' the Romans, without a hamp, hinny. Was that true, think ye? I'm saying, think ye that was true? Cam to the holy kiss, a' the wooers' teeth watered-eh ?Think ye that was true, hinny? The Jewel was amaist_comed to grips at that verse about the kiss-eh?—I'm saying, the Jewel closed wi' the beauty there, I'm saying-Ha! ha!-I think that wadna be true.'-This is the length the smith's information gangs.”

"I'm sure, gin the Snawfleck take the Jewel in preference to Wat, it will show a strange perversion of taste."

"O, there's naebody can answer for the fancies of a woman. But they're a gayan auld-farrant set the Tods, an' winna be easily outwitted. Did ye no hear ought of a moonlight-match that was to be there ?"

"Not a word; and if I had, I wadna hae believed it."

"The Jewel has been whispering something to that effect; he's sae up

lifted, he canna haud his tongue, an' I dinna wonder at it. But, for a' the offers the bonny lass had, to fix on him, is a miracle. Time tries a' ; an' Jock may be cheated yet."

Yes, time is the great trier of human events. Let any man review his correspondences for ten years back, and he will then see how widely different his own prospects of the future have been from the lessons taught him by that hoary monitor Time. But, for the present, matters turned out as the fortunate wooer had insinuated; for, in a short month after this confabulation had taken place, the auld Tod's helpmate arose early one morning, and began a-bustling about the house in her usual busy way, and always now and then kept giving hints to her bonny lasses to rise and begin to their daily tasks." Come, stir ye, stir ye, my bonny bairns. When the sterns o' heaven hae gane to their beds, it is time the flowers o' the yird war rising-Come, come!-No stirring yet? -Busk ye, busk ye, like thrifty bairns, an' dinna let the lads say that ye are sleepy dowdies, that lie in your beds till the sun burns holes in your coverlets. Fie, fie!There has been a reek i' Jean Lowrie's lum this half-hour. The moor-cock has crawed, the mawkin cowered, and the whaup yammered abune the flower. Streek your young limbs--open your young een--a foot on the cauld floor, an' sleep will soon be aboon the cludds.-Up, up, my winsome bairns!"

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"Haud your tongues, ilk ane o' ye," said he "What's a' the fy-gaeto about? I hae that muckle to trust to my lasses, that I can lippen them as weel out o' my sight as in my sight, an' as weel wi' young men as wi' auld women.-Bairns that are brought up in the fear, nurture, and admonition o' their Maker, will aye swee to the right side, and sae will mine. Gin they thought they had a right to chuse for themselves, they war right in exercising that right; an' I'm little feared that their choices be bad anes, or yet that they be adverse to my opinion. Sae I rede you to haud a' your tongues, an' tak nae mair notice o' ought that has happened, than it hadna been. We're a' in gude hands to guide us; an' though we whiles pu' the reins out o' His hand to tak a gallop our ain gate, yet He winna leave us lang to our ain direction."

With these sagacious words, the auld sly Tod settled the clamour and outcry in his family that morning; and the country has never doubted to this day, that he plowed with his own heifers.

On the evening previous to this colloquy, the family of the Tods went to rest at an early hour. There had been no wooers admitted that night; and no sooner had the two old people

begun to breathe deep, than the eldest and youngest girls, who slept in an apartment by themselves, and had everything in readiness, eloped from their father's cot, the Eagle with a lightsome heart and willing mind, but the younger with inany fears and misgivings. For thus the matter stood:Wat sighed and pined in love for the maiden, but he was young and modest, and could not tell his mind; but he was such a youth as a virgin would love,-handsome, respectable, and virtuous; and a match with him was so likely, that no one ever supposed the girl would make objections to it. Jock, on the other hand, was nearly twice her age, talkative, forward, and selfconceited; and, it was thought, rather wanted to win the girl for a brag, than for any great love he bore her. But Jock was rich; and when one has told that, he has told enough. In short, the admired, the young, the modest, and reserved Snawfleck, in order to get quit of her father's laws of Padanaram, agreed to make a run-away marriage with Jock the Jewel. But what was far more extraordinary, her youthful lover agreed to accompany her as bridesman, and, on that account, it may possibly be supposed, her eldest sister never objected to accompany her as maid.

The shepherds had each of them provided himself with a good horse, saddle, and pillion; and, as the custom is, the intended bride was committed to the care of the best-man, and the Eagle was mounted behind her brother-in-law that was to be. It was agreed before mounting, that in case of their being parted in the dark by a pursuit, or any other accident, their place of rendezvous was to be at the Golden Harrow, in the Candlemaker-Row, towards which they were to make with all speed.

They had a wild moorland path to traverse for some space, on which there were a multiplicity of tracks, but no definite road. The night was dark and chill, and, on such ground, the bride was obliged to ride constantly with her right hand round Wat's waist, and Wat, from sheer instinct, was obliged to press that hand to his bosom, for fear of its being cold-on all such occasions, he generally magnified the intemperance of the night at least seven-fold. When pressing that fair hand to his bosom, Wat some

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