the pulpit, seemed necessary rather to support the person than to
assist the gesticulation of the preacher; no gown, not even that
of Geneva, a tumbled band, and a gesture which seemed scarce
voluntary, were the first circumstances which struck a stranger.
'The preacher seems a very ungainly person,' whispered Mannering
to his new friend.

'Never fear, he's the son of an excellent Scottish lawyer;
[Footnote: The father of Doctor Erskine was an eminent lawyer, and
his Institutes of the Law of Scotland are to this day the text-
book of students of that science.] he'll show blood, I'll warrant
him.'

The learned Counsellor predicted truly. A lecture was delivered,
fraught with new, striking, and entertaining views of Scripture
history, a sermon in which the Calvinism of the Kirk of Scotland
was ably supported, yet made the basis of a sound system of
practical morals, which should neither shelter the sinner under
the cloak of speculative faith or of peculiarity of opinion, nor
leave him loose to the waves of unbelief and schism. Something
there was of an antiquated turn of argument and metaphor, but it
only served to give zest and peculiarity to the style of
elocution. The sermon was not read: a scrap of paper containing
the heads of the discourse was occasionally referred to, and the
enunciation, which at first seemed imperfect and embarrassed,
became, as the preacher warmed in his progress, animated and
distinct; and although the discourse could not be quoted as a
correct specimen of pulpit eloquence, yet Mannering had seldom
heard so much learning, metaphysical acuteness, and energy of
argument brought into the service of Christianity.