Note from Free Church Record.—The Free Presbyterians (says the Free Church Record) are being remembered by some writers those days; and it is well. Usually those who recall the existence of this brave body of witnesses do so with intent to damage the Free Church. Let them beware. If Parliamentary aid is to be invoked to secure for the U.F. Church a title which is denied to her by the Law Courts, there are those in the Free Church who will take good care that the prior claims of the Free Presbyterians are not overlooked. If an attempt is made to despoil the Free Church on the plea that she cannot administer the Trust committed to her, it requires no deep sense of propriety to see that the right of the Free Presbyterians to participate is prior to the right of the U.F. Church. The latter has been declared by the Law Courts to have no title; the question of the title of the Free Presbyterians has not yet been raised. Happily there may be a more excellent way of bringing our brethren into the inheritance, and some of us earnestly hope that the more excellent way may not always be barred.
The Epidemic of Novels.—The craze for fiction is an old feature of these degenerate times, and one upon which we have frequently remarked. The Edinburgh Public Library returns, however, bring up the situation so significantly again that a new affirmation of the moral bearings of the case is perforce called for. The following are the figures for the Central Library for the week ending August 13th:—Theology, 83; Philosophy, 62; Sociology, 51; Science and Art, 219; Poetry, 84; Fiction, 3577; History and Biography, 241; General Literature, 107; Juvenile Books, 497. The theology dealt out at the Edinburgh Central Library is probably much of it bad; nevertheless, spiced as it is to the palate of the citizens, they only want 83 volumes theology against 3577
volumes fiction. History and biography are slightly more popular than theology, nevertheless 241 histories against 3577 novels is an appalling disproportion. At the Portobello branch the novel has a tremendous predominance — 844 works of fiction against 7 theology. The effect of novel reading upon the life and character is much the same as that of opium-eating and drug-drinking. It supplants a life of action and reality by a vain programme of dreams and delusions. This demoralising effect of the novel is especially pronounced in the sphere of experimental religion. The latter is a severe and strenuous process rising out of the deep pit of our original apostasy and unbelief into the region of spiritual sight and spiritual activity, and there is a busy fountain-head of delusion and error already at work in the soul to counteract any beginnings of the heavenward life. It is, therefore, a thing extremely superfluous and uncalled for to reinforce this disease of the soul by stimulants from the outside. Effective Bible study and habitual novel reading are in truth things perfectly irreconcilable. But Edinburgh is a specially unsuitable place for the indulgence of this folly. Edinburgh is a solemn, awful place. It is haunted by memories of the martyrs. Their blood is on the stones of the Grassmarket; their voices can still be heard by the meditative ear; and the dread scene of final judgment to which their testimony constantly looks forward is no fable, but a fast-approaching reality. “For the Son of Man shall come in the glory of the Father, with the holy angels, and then shall he render to every man according to his works.”