formist by conviction, Mr. H. M. Bompas (now Q.C.), won a place in the mathematical tripos, which established a claim to a fellowship, and so headed the list of the "army of martyrs" whose loyalty to conscience opened the Universities to the nation. Two years

previously the attempt of Mr. James Heywood to abolish compulsory attendance at College chapels had failed to gain the approval even of the House of Commons. I remember, from personal experience, the summary and even scornful manner in which a request to be allowed to attend the morning service at the Independent chapel was refused a few years. later by the authorities of my own college. And owing to the circumstances of the time, it was the Baptist Chapel, of which the Rev. W. Robinson was then the minister, that furnished the meeting-point for most of the Nonconformists then in residence. The small congregation of Independents met in an old-fashioned and far from attractive little building hidden away in a back street, where its very existence was probably unknown to the great majority of the University. A letter from one who knew the church well, describes it (a little unfairly) as containing "no people of real culture and refinement, and but very few young men," but as "kind and considerate." Mr. Finlayson's chief desire, after all the warnings which he had received, some of which the experiences of his time of waiting had shown not to be wholly baseless, was to find a pulpit from which he could speak freely, and his best friends counselled him to go to Cambridge, at first purely as an experiment. After preaching for two Sundays, and leaving a very favourable impression of his genuineness and sincerity,

as well as of his personal charm, he was offered an engagement for three months, covering the latter part of 1858, which he accepted. The outcome of this was a very hearty invitation to the pastorate, and he entered on his settled work on the first Sunday of March, 1859, when he was just 23 years of age. In the notes of a speech which he made two years afterwards, looking back upon this time, I find frank expression given to the anxieties with which he entered on his task, anxieties arising partly from his own inexperience of pastoral work, partly from the forebodings of his friends as to the restrictions under which he might find himself in an Independent Church, and partly, too, from the memories of divisions and discords which had not been unknown at Cambridge. But he acknowledges heartily that these anxieties had not been justified, and that nothing could have exceeded the freedom and the peace which he had enjoyed. The emoluments of his post were not large, but they were sufficient to justify him, without neglect of that prudence in money matters which always seemed to him inseparable from self-respect, to take upon himself further responsibilities. On September 15th, 1859, he married Miss Helen Rankine, of Kilsyth, a lady to whom he had been for some years engaged. It is not seemly to say more of one who is still living than that in her devoted and unfailing sympathy he found the supreme blessing of his life. One son and five daughters were born of the marriage, all of whom survived him.

Into his work as preacher and pastor at Cambridge Mr. Finlayson threw himself with an energy which overflowed the bounds of prudence. It may well have

been that his want of experience, and the lack of that training as assistant to some older minister, which many of our younger men are now finding so helpful, made the burden heavier, but, in any case, the task of writing two or often three carefully-prepared discourses each week was a serious one; and he was never reluctant to meet additional claims, such, for instance, as the course of lectures on the Prayer Book, the substance of which appeared in the articles already referred to. He drew almost recklessly on the physical strength, which had never as yet failed him. Late hours, hard study, and the pressure of family anxieties-his father's circumstances about this time changing seriously for the worse-told upon him heavily, and in 1864 led to a nervous breakdown, which lasted for many months. Even when he appeared to have recovered, it left its permanent effects. In his early manhood he had been singularly cool and self-possessed. Though he was not lacking in modesty, his self-command and personal dignity had never failed him in the most trying circumstances; but from this time forward he was destined to suffer from a permanent repugnance to publicity, and a self-distrust and shyness, which, if at times all but overcome, were on other occasions absolutely paralysing. When but 23 years old, he had preached, at Dr. Anderson's request, to a congregation which filled the City Hall at Glasgow, with composure and self-control under very trying circumstances: in later life, he was at times utterly unable to address even a couple of hundred sympathetic hearers. It was no wonder that some of his friends were urging a change of pastorate. As he justly said himself, no mercantile considerations had ever entered

into his relations with his church at Cambridge.

As he came to be better known, various larger and wealthier churches had endeavoured to secure him. Leicester, Halifax, and Birmingham had all tempted him away; and in each case his pecuniary position would have been much improved, but he had met them with a prompt and decided refusal. But the period which he had marked out for his preliminary pastorate had more than passed: the needs of a rapidly growing family could not be overlooked, and he felt that the relief that might be gained by a respite from the duty of writing so many fresh sermons ought not to be refused.

In October, 1864, he was invited at the suggestion of his old college friend, Dr. Macfadyen, to preach in the new church which had just been erected (as an outcome of the bi-centenary movement) in Rusholme, then a suburb, and now a part of the city of Manchester. He at once declined, saying, “I am still only recovering strength after an illness of some months' duration, and, although greatly better, have not yet resumed my full work in Cambridge. I feel, therefore, that my own people here, having been deprived of my services during the summer and autumn, are fully entitled, throughout the winter months, to all the strength that is in me." But eight months later the pulpit was still vacant, and the application was renewed. Dr. Macfadyen, with his usual strong common-sense, put all the attractions and the disadvantages of Rusholme very fully and clearly before his friend, and bade him come and judge for himself, and let the people judge for themselves. He came came in August, 1865, and preached twice. The morning sermon was on the text

which now stands engraved on his memorial tablet, as of all words those most appropriate to his life: "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." The evening discourse was that entitled, "Furnished, but vacant," afterwards printed in his first volume of sermons. No second visit was needed: it was a case of love at first sight. The force, the freshness, the spiritual power, and the intense practical earnestness of the preaching carried it at once to the hearts of the people. A very hearty invitation was sent and was accepted. Two points may be noted here in his letters. and address of acceptance as especially characteristic. One is the frankness with which Mr. Finlayson warned the church that they were not inviting a man of very robust health, and that the hope of more vigorous service in a more bracing climate was the only motive that could have justified him in parting from his attached people at Cambridge. The second is the emphasis which he laid upon the character of the Christian minister as the first requisite for success. He was above all things to be a witness for God in his daily life. "He is called to look at all men-as much as he possibly can—in the light of God; to be no respecter of persons; to regard the spirit of faith and devoutness and brotherliness as the standard of highest excellence." How he had tried to live up to this himself may be seen from some words written by one who knew him well at Cambridge: "One beauty of our dear friend's character lay in simply ignoring social distinctions in his intercourse with members of his church and congregation. He would join a pic-nic party of domestic servants and journeymen tailors and little tradesmen as readily and as happily as the most

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