massive frame,
and displayed a breadth of shoulder which seemed borrowed from the
Farnese Hercules. Though so distinguished as a divine, there was nothing
clerical in his appearance--nothing of that air of 'the cloth' which at
once proclaims the preacher. His noble features were generally
overspread with a benevolent smile, which seemed to shed an illumination
as though from the ignition of the soul; while at other times he was
possessed with a spirit of abstraction as if walking in a dream.

As a theologian, Chalmers was great beyond any of his contemporaries;
and yet, strictly speaking, his genius was mathematical, rather than
theological. In this respect he resembled that famed American of whom he
professed himself a disciple--Jonathan Edwards. Of the latter it is
stated by no less a critic than the author of the _Eclipse of Faith_
(Henry Rogers), that he was born a mathematician. Chalmers, however, was
a master of all science, and it would have been difficult for even a
specialist to have taken him at an advantage. As greatness is always set
off by simplicity, the latter feature was one of the chief beauties in
what we may call the Chalmerian Colossus. I have often seen him leaning
upon the half open door of a smithy, conversing with the intelligent
workmen, as they rested from the use of the sledge. Having referred to
his love of children, I may add, in respect to myself, that when I, in
my childhood, spoke to him in the street, I was generally favored with
an apple. He was indeed an ardent lover of the young, and his genius
seemed to gather freshness from his intercourse with childhood.

Edinburgh will not soon forget his interest in the welfare of the poor,
in which he has been so ably seconded by the present Dr. Guthrie. I well
remember beholding the two Christian reformers, standing above the slums
of the city, contemplating the fields which the latter had assumed.
Suddenly Chalmers clapped his friend upon the back, and exclaimed, in
rude pleasantry, 'Wow, Tummus Guthrie, but ye ha a bonnie parish.'
Chalmers' pronunciation was singularly broad, and not easily understood
by many. Stopping once, during a tour in England, at a place where there
was a seminary, a gentleman inquired of him how many Scotch boys were in
attendance. 'Saxtain or savantain,' was the reply. 'Enough,' says the
gentleman, _sotto voce_, to corrupt a whole school.' As regards
calligraphy, Chalmers wrote the most illegible hand in Scotland. H