but he was an admirable pilot of
awakened souls, whom thousands will bless through all eternity.

Dr. Thomas Guthrie, of Edinburgh, was once pronounced by the _London
Times_ to be "The most eloquent man in Europe." Ruskin, Thackeray,
Macaulay, and other men of renown joined in the crowd that thronged St.
John's Church when they were in Edinburgh; and a highland drover was
once so excited that in the middle of a powerful sermon he called out:
"Naw, sirs, heard ye ever the like o' that?" My good wife made a run to
Edinburgh while I was stopping behind in England, and on her return to
me almost her first word was, "I have heard Guthrie; I am spoiled for
every one else as long as I live." Guthrie, "Lang Tam" (as the toughs on
the "Cowgate" in Edinburgh used to call him), was built for a great
orator. He was more than six feet high, and would be picked out in any
crowd as one of God's royal family. I once said to him: "You remind us
Americans of our famous statesman, Henry Clay," There was a striking
resemblance in the long-armed figure, the broad mouth and lofty brow,
and still more in the rich melody of voice, and magnetic rush of
electric eloquence, "There must certainly be a personal likeness,"
replied the Doctor, "for not long ago I went into the house of Mr.
Norris, who came here from America, and said to myself, 'There is my
portrait on the wall,' but when I came nearer I espied under it the
name of 'Henry Clay.'" He used to say that in preaching he aimed at the
three P's: Prove, Paint and Persuade. His painting with the tongue was
as vivid as Rembrandt's painting with the brush. When I went to
Edinburgh, in 1872, as a delegate to the two Presbyterian General
Assemblies, Dr. Guthrie invited me to dine with him, and the gifted Dr.
John Ker, of Glasgow, was in the company. After dinner, Guthrie
literally took the floor, and poured out a flow of charming talk,
interspersed with racy Scotch anecdotes. Among others told was one about
the old Highland woman who said to him: "Doctor, nane of your modern
improvements for me. I want naething but good old Dauvid's Psalms, and I
want'em all sung to Dauvid's tunes, too." On the evening when I
addressed the Free Church Assembly, I was obliged to pass, on my way to
the platform, the front bench, on which sat the veteran missionary,
Alexander Duff, Principal Rainy, William Arnot, Dr. Guthrie and two or
three other celebrities. I have not run such a gauntlet on a single
bench in my