ard Irving was another. The Scottish
Church in Regent Square was at one time a place of no common repute.
Irving, with his splendid face, half fiend half angel--with his intellect
hovering between insanity and genius, the companion of fanatics and
philosophers--there

'Blazed the comet of a season.'

To this day his name yet lives. In spite of the delusions and follies
with which his name was connected--in spite of the reaction, the natural
result of all enthusiasm, no matter what--Irvingite churches remain
amongst us to this present hour. But at one time they threatened to
pervade the land. All London flocked to Regent Square Church: the
religious world was in a state of intense excitement. Timid men and
nervous women went there, Sunday after Sunday, till they became almost
mad. Unknown tongues were heard; strange sights were seen. Some thought
the end of the world had come, and were seized with trembling and fear.
It was a time of wonder, and mystery, and awe; but it passed away, as
such things in this world of ours must pass away. The great magician
died. The crowd that had wondered and wept at his bidding, went to
wonder and weep elsewhere.

Under such circumstances, to attempt to fill the vacant pulpit was no
easy task; and yet that it has been done, and done successfully, is
evinced by Dr. Hamilton's success. It is a fact that he preaches there
every Sunday to a crowded church; that there, where there were divers
prophesyings and bewilderment universal, now order reigns; that the only
voice that you hear there now, besides that of the preacher, is that of
the precentor, as he reads the bald version of the Psalms, to which the
modern Scotch stick as immovably as did their fathers to the Covenant in
the days of Montrose. This is an undeniable fact. Nor does it surprise
you when the Doctor makes his appearance in the pulpit. At first,
perhaps, you are rather surprised. There is certainty nothing taking
about the man. He looks tall, strong, and awkward, with a cloudy face,
and a fearfully drawling voice; a man, not timid, but not striking--plain
and unaffected--better fitted for the study than for the fashion of May
Fair. If you look closer, you will see indications of a calm, untroubled
heart, with deep wells of fine feeling, of tenderness and strength
combined. But still the Doctor is not the man to make a sensation at
first sight--very few ministers are. One can understand this in a way.
In