Luss and Arrochar Bible Society; The Sabbath School

EEMEMBEKING TOUE WORK OF FAITH, AND LABOUR OF LOVE, AND PATIENCE OP HOPE IN OtJB LORD JESUS CHRIST. — 1 THESS. I. 3.

Therefore love and believe; for works will follow spontaneous,

Even as day does the sun; the right from the good is an offspring,

Love in a bodily shape; and Christian works are no more than

Animate love and faith, as flowers are the animate spring-tide.

LONGFELLOW.

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Hitherto the summers of Rossdhu had been often cheered by long visits from a beloved sister; but the last of these had now been paid, and, in the spring of 1818, that sister lay a dying invahd at Ham Common, in Surrey. There, besides the affectionate assiduities of her own family, she was favoured with occasional visits from a faithful minister of Christ, and the frequent society of an attached Christian friend. Lady Colquhoim could not come to her, but, on this very account, her supphcations were the more ceaseless, and her solicitude relieved itself in letters, which, for their sisterly tenderness and faithfulness, proved the chief cordial of the weary sufferer. In penning them the fond writer sought help from a Wonderftd Counsellor, and, as they were fall of His wisdom, as well as her ovra warm-heartedness, they always arrived like “words in season.” Miss Sinclair kept them under her pillow, and used to have them often read over to her.

The following extracts from her Journal show how the mind of Lady Colquhoun was exercised during this anxious spring: —

“Bossdhu, March 8, 1818. — After church was quite overcome by receiving two or three hues from my dearest Hannah, written with great difficulty and in much weakness, but expressive of the composure of her mind and resignation to every issue. Oh! my God, I will praise thee! Yes, I will praise thee even in the fire of affliction, when thus tempered with mercy.

“Jpnll2. — It has pleased the Lord to lay his afflicting hand upon me; but it has also pleased him in great mercy to support me. I heard yesterday, that my dearest sister is no better, and getting still weaker. I have been agitated, but quite resigned; and I see so much, so very much mercy in every part of the dispensation, that I dare do nothing but he quietly in the hand of God. After some thought, I wrote her a letter telhng her of her danger. Oh! how was I puzzled how to frame it! but I trust my pen was guided by an invisible Hand. O Lord! accompany this bit of paper; be with her when she opens it; support her spirits; give her triumph m the thought of death! I trusted to thee for direction; may it answer the end for which I wrote lilFE OF LADY COLQUHOTJN. 71

it! Employed much as usual to-day; but in the eveniag felt nervous and vmweU. Still, I have the greatest possible confidence in the safety of the dear saint. I cannot mourn as those who have no hope, and I could not have believed that I should be so tranquil.

“26. Oh! I am cold and dead at present. I am indeed worthless; my services worthless, my heart worthless. I feel some pleasure in writing these lines, and making this acknowledgment. In glory, and there alone, shall I love and serve my God. And heaven is mine, — freely and vpithout money, mine. Had not Christ died, my portion were heU. Had the happiness yesterday to hear that dear Hannah is no worse, and that Mr. Gandy and Miss Massie were to see her. How kindly is God dealing with her; and thus he deals with all who are his.

“May 10. — Prayed vdth sincerity in the morning, and laid all my burdens on my covenant God; for, burdens I have, and one very heavy to be borne. All hope is over. Dear, dear Hannah is much worse, and I look for her death every day. Still, Lord, thou art faithftd, thou art kind. Did not I pray for evidence as to her eternal state? and is not my prayer fully answered? Is she not everjrthing I could wish? a pattern of meekness, patience, long-suffering, — faith? What would I have more? Must she be detained from glory because I cannot part with her? No, Lord! I would only still further implore that thy everlasting arms may enfold her now and for evermore; that her passage through the dark valley, which is but a ’ shadow, may be easy, and that thou wouldst be graciously pleased to support me, thy poor afflicted servant, and sanctify it to me.

“17. — Received a very gratifying letter from my sister Catherine; not that my Hannah is getting better: my dear saint must go to her blissful home; but I was gratij&ed vidth the affection expressed for her and me, and above all, with the piety which appeared in it. There is the fruit of my Hannah’s labors.

“24. — My beloved sister still lives; at least, I have not heard of her death. Oh 1 how hard it is to give up one so truly dear; yet I feel resigned. My heart is sometimes rent, especially when I hear anything of her affection for me; but, in general, I am calm to a miracle. God has done it. In this trying dispensation, how kind has he been to me, warning me for eleven years of its approach, and at last taking her in the gentlest manner. I trust, too, it has already been sanctified. My heart has been raised to Jesus, and I have been enabled, in a faltering manner, to lean on the Beloved. Could I but know this dear Lord, I should trust him.

“Tuesday, 26. — Hosanna! Hosanna in the highest! I have just heard that my beloved Hannah is in glory! What cause for praise! ‘Unto Him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, and hath made us kings and priests unto God, and his Father, to him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.’ Sweetest saint, thou art now far removed from me; but far, also, from sin and sorrow, and enjoying the presence and the smiles of Jesus. Oh, that my end may be peaceful, like thine! Not a fear distm-bed thy serene composure, and thou shppedst gently away, as if afraid of disturbing others. Oh, my Hannah, hardly shall I find thy equal, as none can be equal to me! yet, could raising a finger bring thee back, I would not be so cruel. Though I must sojourn here a longer or shorter time without my darling sister, have we not an eternity to spend together? Let me rejoice in the thought. Oh, that I could raise this dead heart above the world! My God! sanctify this event to me, and accept my praise for thy great kindness to the dear departed, and for so wonderfully supporting me.

“31. — Beloved Hannah! I would once more write a little to thy beloved memory. What a heart was thine! — filled with the desire of doing the will of God, and of conferring good on all around thee. Yet, hadst thou died some years ago, I should not have been so confident of the safety of thy state. God heard my prayers, and completely established thee in the faith, and now I have nothing to say but ‘Alleluia: for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth. Let us be glad and rejoice, and give honour to him: for the marriage of the Lamb is come, and his wife hath made herself ready. And to her was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen: for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints.’ — Read to myself and Sir James. Read to my children with much enlargement. At night prayed with tears. Even my prayers distress me, for I used always to pray for my dear departed Hannah. I cannot omit her name, so I turn it into thanksgivings for God’s goodness to her.” Miss Sinclair died on the 22d of May, and soon after her death a little volume was published, containing her own beautiful “Letter on the Principles of the Christian Paith,” and a brief memoir from Legh Richmond’s happy and descriptive pen. In its accessible pages the reader may learn more fdly how worthy was Hannah Sinclair of her sister’s devoted love, and how full of immortality was the hope which sparkled amidst that sister’s tears; and it is only for us to add, how fraught with peaceful fruits to the survivor was this long and deeply-felt affliction. These chapters may be read by some who have sustained recent bereavements; if so, may their sorrow ia like manner be sanctified!

And, perhaps, the most natural effect of this trial on a mind like hers, was the effect which Calvin’s death produced on Beza, — “Now is heaven more dear, and death less dreadful.” She had learned how hghtsome the Saviour can make the dark valley, and she almost vdshed that she had traversed it when the “door of hope” opened so wide, and let so much of glory shine athwart it. And she could think of the better country more vividly, because one so familiar was there. To quote some of the simple rhymes into which about this period her contemplations often ran: —

In sweet surprise that anthem swelling

With notes of joy and love;
What seraph’s form is this that treads

Jerusalem’s courts above?

That form, methinks, I yet should know;

That heart, it once was mine;
And still, my Hannah, does my soul

Unite in love to thine.

Together, from our earliest years,

In every thought united, — Each in the other’s grief downcast,

In th’ other’s joy delighted.

Oh! may we still such union prove.

And one in Christ be found;
And through one glad eternity

The Saviour’s praise resound.

Arrayed in the deep mourning, which was little needed to remind her of her loss, many were the solitary walks she now took in the garden, and in the sequestered by-paths of the “Pohcy;” and there, or seated on the margin of the silvery lake, she loved to meditate on the multitude before the throne: and just as in that multitude she recognised one dear as her ovra soul, for that dear one’s sake “the Lamb in the midst of the throne” became yet dearer. Nor was it long till the sisterly thoughts, which used to travel to England, as naturally ascended to heaven.

But along with this result came another, as important. For many years she had ceased to live unto herself; but up to this period her solicitude and self-denial had been mainly for her husband, her children, and her immediate family circle. This Providence, however, broke open a door of exit, and bade her seek a wider sphere. She received it as a personal message, and, admonished that “the time is short,” she looked eagerly around for opportunities of larger usefulness.

Accordingly, the first time that her neighbours saw her, except at Church, was at the formation of a Bible Society, a few weeks after her bereavement. The day is thus recorded in her Diary: —

“Monday, June 29. — I had the happiness of witnessing the establishment of a Bible Society at Luss. It is to be called ‘The Luss and Arrochar Bible Society.’ I hope I was of some use in setting it a-going, though not the original mover. O Lord, I rejoice to be in any way the instrument of forwarding thy kingdom in the world, and saving poor lost souls. With delight I heard Sir James make a most excellent speech on accepting the office of President; and thus supported, I trust it may be of great benefit to the neighbourhood.”

And from this time forward she devoted herself in more systematic efforts to the poor of her vicinity. And although the national reserve prevented her from gaining all the access she desired, or doing all the good she wished, her labours of love were generally appreciated, and she was conscious of a recompense in her own soul.

“Blessed is he ttat wisely doth
The poor man’s case consider:”

So sings the Scottish version of the forty-first Psahn; and we have often heard that most enhghtened of the poor man’s friends, Dr. Chahners, quote it vsdth applauding emphasis. And there was much “wisdom” in the way that Lady Colquhomi dealt with “the poor man’s case.” Amongst the natives of Luss she found Scottish pride in union vidth Celtic touchiness. Under the home-spun coat and Highland bonnet it was the same high mettle which often stalks in hungry magnificence beneath the Spanish cloak and sombrero, afraid of obhgation, and affronted at alms-giving. “Na, na, I’m no in want,” was the instinctive rejoinder of a tattered old woman, as a stranger shpped half-a-crown into her withered palm, which, however, as instinctively closed over the goodly coin, tin the sense of want and the sense of honor were happily harmonized by some courteous word of explanation. And even after they consented to receive the gifts of individual kindness, it was a prime point of honor to owe nothing to public charity. One aged female, who was at last entirely supported by the Rossdhu family, used to place five pounds, the savings of a frugal life, beneath her pillow every night, lest, by any possibihty, she might be chargeable to the parish for the expenses of her funeral. And another, who in extremity had accepted some relief from the poor’s money, by her latter will provided that her personal property should be disposed of, and the proceeds refunded to the Session, and as the sale of her efiFects reahzed near forty shillings, it is likely that in her case the parish was no great loser. But grotesque as might be the occasional manifestations of this spirit. Lady Colquhoun respected and encouraged it. She was proud to know that her poor neighbours were not paupers, and, “considering their case,” she bestirred her ingenuity how to reheve their wants, and save their independence. Amongst her pensioners was an aged and pious woman who formerly had charge of the poultry at Rossdhu. Her chief means of support was now derived from a humble class of lodgers, and the produce of a cow, the keep of which, along with her cottage, she had rent-free. She was also installed in the guardianship-general of the beehives, a post which entitled her to a small yearly stipend, and which- only called for her attention in the pleasant hours of sunshine and summer. And when, at last, lingering infirmities left her long bed-ridden, her kind benefactress was constantly resorting to her cheerful but lowly chamber. There Lady Colquhoun confessed that she had learned many a lesson of gratitude and trust in God. Her joyful tribulation and patient hope were a visible sermon; and all the more instructive because derived from constant communion with heaven. Often when her visitor would draw near to her peaceful bedside and ask, “And what have you been doing, NeUy?” her answer would be, “My leddy, I ‘ve been wussin’.” *

One day Nelly’s cottage was full of smoke, and on her entrance Lady Colquhoun was greeted with the exclamation, “Eh, my leddy! ye canna come in here for the reek, siccan a fine leddy as you.” “Hold your peace, NeUy,” was the answer; “when you and I are in the grave, if any person takes up your dust in one hand, and mine in the other, he won’t be able to tell which was the lady.” But amidst all this consciousness of the common humanity and the common frailty, there was an obvious elevation which commanded the respect, whilst it did not lessen the affection of the poorest. There was in her words enough of fellow-feehng to assure them of the speaker’s friendship j but there was also that in her aspect which gave to these words the enforcement of a superior nature. And, surely, that is the truest grandeur which, even if station were lost or unsuspected, would still be noble, in virtue of its own

* Wishing, i.e., praying.

refinement; just as that is the truest condescension which can lay aside everything except inherent dignity. So graceM were her manners, so dehcate her cultured mind, and so lofty the homestead of her habitual thoughts, that, though she could forget or conceal the accidents of rank, she could never cease to be the Christian gentlewoman.

Walking in the beautiful founds of Park-place,* one day last summer, a picturesque cottage was pointed out to the writer, and he was told how, in the minds of some of the family, it was associated with Lady Colquhoun. In the course of her first visit, they were sauntering through the pleasure-grounds, when they came to that cottage, and she was asked if she would like to go in and see the aged gardener, then laid on his dying bed. She eagerly assented, and, after talking to him a little in her own sweet and engaging way, she begged her friends to continue their walk, for she could not speak so freely whilst they were present. By and by she joined them, radiant with that happiness which celestial natures feel when visits of mercy have been paid; and as the old man continually reverted to that

The seat of E. Fuller Maitland, Esq.,’ near Henlej-on-Thames, One of Mr. Fuller Maitland’s daughters was married to Lady Colquhoun’s second son. interview, and the prayer with which it ended, as a sort of angehc epiphany in his homely history, we may hope that it was blessed to his everlasting benefit. And though it must be admitted that for such services she possessed a rare felicity, neither should it be forgotten that of that fitness the main element was her rare benevolence. Those who would fain be the benefactors of their brethren possess the main pre-requisites if they are blessed with warm hearts, and clear views of the Gospel; and for an open ear and a welcome they need not be anxious, if into the abodes of their neighbours they carry a bosom glovidng with the Saviom-’s heavenly kindness.

In a tract, first published anonymously. Lady Colquhoun has supplied us with a specimen of her cottage conversations; and, as illustrative of herself and of the blessing which sometimes crowned her labours, we may copy a few paragraphs: —

“On my entrance I beheld an old man stretched upon a bed, apparently in great pain, whose face was haK eaten away by that dreadful disease, a cancer. Yet his countenance bore marks of intelligence, and of that cultivation of the mind, which, even among the lower orders, is so common in Scotland. His features were aquiline. He was pale and emaciated, and a certain wildness in his stare seemied to announce that he suffered greatly. The bed on which he lay was cased round with wood, excepting a space in front, by which to enter. The remaining furniture of the room consisted of another bed, a few wooden chairs, a table, and cupboard. The fire, wjiich was of peat, burned upon the ground, without grate or chimney, the smoke seeking its exit through a small opening in the roof, which, however, seldom allowed of its entire escape. And a window, oft repaired, but dimly admitted the light of day. Yet this uncomfortable lodging, I am convinced, made no part of the misery of my new acquaintances; they had never known a better, and custom had completely reconciled them to the want of all the conveniences of life.

“I advanced towards the poor man, and said, —

“* I am sorry to hear you are so unwell.’

“‘Very bad,’ was his reply.

“‘Aie you in great pain?’

“‘Very great.’

“‘Does anything give you rehef?’

“‘Nothing.’

“‘Are you always equally distressed?’

“‘No; sometimes the pain is much more intolerable; I could not speak to you if the fit came on now; but I shall never, never be better.’

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“This last answer reminded me of the hint his wife had given as to the state of his mind.

“‘It is a consolation,’ said I, ’ to know that trials are sent for our benefit; and this one, hard as it is to bear, may prove a great blessing to you.’

“‘There is no blessing for me,’ said he, hastily; ‘I am lost, undone, miserable here, and will be so, for ever.’

“As I gazed upon him, I saw despair pictured in his ghastly and disfigured countenance.

‘”I hope you are mistaken,’ I replied. ‘Do you not know that there is a Saviour for poor, lost, undone creatures? that he is able to save to the uttermost all who come unto God by him; that he came to seek and to save that which was lost; and that he will in no wise cast out any who apply to him for salvation? ’

“‘I know all you can tell me,’ said John, ’ for I am well acquainted with the Bible; but I know likewise that there is no salvation for me.’

“‘Does any particular sin oppress your conscience? ‘I inquired.

“‘No,’ said he, ‘I have lived a religious life. Unlike many of my neighbours, I have kept the Sabbath — prayed morning and evening — abstained from swearing — attended on ordinances — thought I was serving God; but lie has rejected rae; and this is a judgment sent from heaven; it is the beginning of those pains virhich will last eternally — it is heU begun.’

“I hstened with horror as he spoke for, from the expression of his countenance, his words, dreadful as they were, seemed inadequate to convey his meaning.”

For more than a year Lady Colquhoun continued to visit assiduously her afflicted neighbour without seeing any break in the gloomy cloud vnth. which his soul was enveloped. It was on a day when a grievous accident had befallen his grand-daughter, who was the chief support of himself and his aged partner, that the following conversation occurred: —

“‘Is it not a judgment now?’ said he, on seeing me: ’ would stroke upon stroke thus follow me if I was not abandoned for ever — lost — going dovni to the pit? Oh, the bottomless pit! it has a chain and key none can escape. To be tormented day and night, for ever and ever! ’ —

“He would have proceeded, but I interrupted him by saying, ‘You have forgotten this text, “Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth.” ’

“‘He win never receive me,’ was the reply.

“‘John,’ said I, ’ you certainly labour under an unfortunate delusion; it is necessary that I should examine you a little more closely. Are you willing to accept of a full and of a free salvation? I know you wlU say that you are; but let me explain the meaning of these expressions.

“‘To receive a free salvation means, that you accept of it without respect to anything on your part; that your past life has nothing to do with it, and that even your future life can have no effect in justifjdng you in the sight of God; that the life and the death of Christ are your only grounds of hope; and that you expect an eternity of happiness from him, as a gift for which you can give no retima.

“‘To receive a full salvation means, that you are willing to accept of the whole which Christ offers, salvation from the power of sin dwelling within you, as well as from heU. Jesus came to save his people from, not in their sins. Is there, then, anything which you know is displeasing to God, but which you are imwiUing to give up? any right hand you would not cut off, or right eye you would not pluck out? Christ addresses you as he did the man at the pool of Bethesda, “Wilt thou be made whole?” And the same Divine compassion is ready to be imparted to you that was exerted in his case. Any obstacle must be on your side; for the Gospel offers axe without hmitation.’

“‘O, God bless you! and he will bless you,’ said John.

“‘I scarcely know any blessing,’ I repUed, ’ that would afford me more satisfaction than to be useftd to you. But consider what I have been saying; are you willing to accept of the salvation I have described?’

“‘Ask a man,’ he answered, ’ on the rack, if he will accept of rehef; he cannot feel more anxious to obtain it than I am for an interest in Christ. I would do anything, everything, to know that I am his, and he mine.’,

“‘Can you consent,’ .said I, ‘to what is still harder to our proud natures, to tmst in nothing that you ever can do, or ever have done, for justification in the sight of God; to let Christ have the undivided glory? His is a finished salvation; our part is to accept of it.’

“‘Oh, if I dared to hope !.’ said John.

“‘And why not?’ I answered. ‘Can any invitations be more universal than these, which are the words of our Lord himself? — ^” Ask, and ye shall yeceive; geek, and ye shall fijid; knock, and it shall be opened to you.” “If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink.” “Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out.” ’

“‘I think I am under the influence of temptation, said John, ’ for I cannot hope.’

“‘No doubt you are,’ I replied; ’ but pray to Him who overcame the powers of darkness, and suffered being tempted, for strength to overcome the videked one, — to Him, who in a sense above our comprehension could say, “Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God.” I, too, will pray for youj and I feel inchned to trust that the cloud vrill at length be dispelled, and the Sun of Righteousness yet arise upon your soul, with healing under his vidngs.’

“‘Never was any one thus interested for my salvation,’ said the old man.

“‘Ah! John,’ said I, ’ there is One who has shown himself infinitely more interested for your salvation. If laying aside for a season the glories of divinity, living a life of persecution and distress, and dying a death of extreme anguish, both of soul and body, can prove it, the Son of God feels a solicitude to pluck sinners as brands out of the burning, to which no created being, in heaven or earth, is alive. And yet you fear to trust Him.’

“Tears gushed from the hollow eyes of poor John; he evidently felt the conclusiveness of my argument.

and the impossibility of reply. His countenance brightened — it spoke volumes; but he uttered not a word. He appeared for some time silently to feed upon the ray of hope which had imperceptibly entered his benighted mind; he seemed scarcely himseK to credit that he entertained it, and yet afraid to lose the first dawning of joy, to which he had so long been a stranger.

“Oh, blessed Spirit! (I mentally prayed) erdighten his darkened soul, irradiate it with thy bright beams, purify it by thy benign influence; lead him to Jesus, teach him how universal are the offers of thy Word, and at length may he find peace and rest in thine everlasting arms.”*

The day had now dawned, and soon the remaining shadows fled away; and it was the privilege of his kind instructress to know that his last days were irradiated with a joy unspeakable and full of glory.

It was not till a later period that she was much in the habit of visiting the poor of Edinburgh; but there was one forlorn invalid there in whose case she felt much interested. Bell Macintyre had been a housemaid at Rossdhu, and was then a good-looking and a very thoughtless girl. Erom Rossdhu

* “Despair and Hope.” By Lady Colquhoun.

she removed to a family near Edinburgh, and was glad to find herself in that gay neighbom-hood; but in consequence of having swallowed a needle,. she was seized with an tatemal affection, acute and lingering, and was nevfir.fit for service any more. Her terrible suffering was aggravated by extreme penury; and hearing. that her first kind mistress was in town, she sent her a message, which soon brought her to the poverty-stricken chamber. But Lady Colquhoun was not more struck by the sad alteration in her old servant’s outward lot, than dehghted with the manifest change in her character. In sohtude, and often in great agony, the Gospel was now her constant support; and, aided by a remarkable memory, she could repeat many long portions of Scripture, and turn to almost any passage, chapter and verse. Even accompanied by a servant, it needed some resolution to dive into the close, and climb the high and dirty stair at the top of which BeU usually lodged; but even into these repulsive abodes Lady IDjolquhoxm was glad to find that philanthropy could penetrate. One day, whilst. she was seated by Bell’s bed-side, itwo yflung. ladies entered, smiled, placed sixpence on. the. stable, and instantly withdrew. The sixpence was the weekly gift of the “Destitute Sick Society;” the young ladies were its visitors; and their coming was a gleam of sunshine to which the poor sufferer could always look forward in her lonehness. And though BeU could never ascertain their names, for some time a young officer and his wife came daily from the Castle, and brought their sick neighbour her dinner, usually some dehcacy in a covered dish, and waited tiU she ate it. But is it worth while to chronicle these little charities? It is worth while, inasmuch as Lady Colquhoun dehghted to recount the kind deeds of other people. It is worth while, inasmuch as the dainty dish carried to the pain-worn prisoner may be noted ia that Book where even the cup of cold water is recorded. And inasmuch as Uttle charities, done in the Redeemer’s name, are twigs of healing in the Marah of himaanity, — ^balm-drops on poverty’s broken heart, — it will be worth while, dear reader, if you and the writer go and do likewise. Bell had an only brother; he was a private in the forty-second Highlanders, and did not know of her distress. But as his detachment was under orders for Scotland, he sent his sister five pounds, that she might look smart and respectable when he arrived with his regiment. The letter was also accompanied with a present of his old mihtary great-coat. When, at last, he arrived, he found her in a miserable lodging, and sitting up in bed, with his old great-coat wrapped round her. As long as he was quartered at the Castle he was very attentive to his sister; but he was soon sent abroad on foreign service, and Bell heard no more of him tiU tidings of his death were brought to her, accompanied by his watch and Waterloo medal. The watch was a great comfort during the sohtary days and nights of many successive years.

Every year on the estate of Luss an oak coppice or “hag,” is feUed, and in cutting it hundreds of labourers are employed during a portion of each summer. These congregate from all quarters, many of them being natives of the sister isle. And this, as well as the harvest-season, was an opportunity which Lady Colquhoun always improved for distributing tracts. Through the overseer, something could usually be ascertained regarding the previous history and character of each, and in this way he was presented with a word in season. The tracts were always received with avidity, and, besides being read on the Sabbath, they were usually carried away, perhaps to do good in distant places.

The Southern reader may have some difficulty in realizing such a state of matters; but many of our northern countrymen can stUl recal the period when the parish schools of Scotland comprehended the entire population. Partially endowed by the landed proprietors, it was their boast that they offered an education so thorough that the opulent did not disdain it; but withal so cheap, that the poorest could easily command it. Accordingly, with the exception of the principal gentry, who could afford a tutor, and the gipsies, to whose crepuscular habits day-schools were not congenial, the juvenility of the district all mustered at the same seat of learning, and in its playground the sons of farmers and weavers and ploughmen, the minister’s laddie, and the bell-man’s, heir-apparent, all kept their daily Saturnaha. Nor did any mischief result from this blending of various classes. Its chief tendency was to lay the foundation of a cordial and friendly feeling through subsequent life. And not only was this education unconscious of caste; it was cathoHc. Although intensely scriptural, within Presbyterian limits, at least, it was thoroughly unsectaxian. The scholars were mighty in the Proverbs, and marvellous in the “proofs;” but we never heard of a parish schoolmaster so misguided as to tamper with a denominational “testimony,” or who taught young ideas to shoot in any ecclesiastical direction; but, sitting at his feet, little Churchmen and incipient Dissenters were closely united in catechetical alliance. And to crown this conipreheiision, brofters and sisters went to school togetheV, learned the saine lessons, and competed for the same prizes; so that ttaditions rmi of great authors, who, in their second lustrum, yielded the “writing medal” to some little daijy-maid; and more romantic traditions of undeveloped East India directors, who vainlj’strove for arithmetical precedence with the future Lady Mayoress. But although this system savoured of patriarchal simphcity, and tended to diffuse through the countryside a notable sense of neighbourhood, it was not without its drawbacks, and there was one which, in her domicijiary visits, especially -forced itself on Lady Colquhoun. She was sorry to remark the absence of neat arrangement and thrifty housekeeping in the surrounding cottages; and she felt that nothing effectual could be done for the in-door comfort of her neighbours till a girls’ school was established. Opportunely for her object, a neat cottage, not far from Rossdhu, vsas accidentally burned to the ground, and the occupants being provided with another abode, at considerable expense Lady Colquhoun rebuilt it, and fitted it up as a school-house. Neatly fenced, and the enclosure laid out in shrubbery, it became the type of that new order of things which she sought to introduce; and, attracted by a splendid fuschsia, which nearly covered

one gable, strangers and tourists often turned aside to visit the school. A suitable teacher wAs selected, and was sent to Edinburgh to perfect herself in needlework, and to learn the most approved methods of teaching. Lady Colquhoun herself visited the school almost daily, and the severest penalty for misconduct was exclusion from the. class which her Ladyship conducted. A striking: improveisient’ was soon perceptible in the district, and whUst the most casual observer could mark the softened manners and pleasing appearance of the scholars, the parents began to acknowledge their own advantage. Hitherto, so little had the manual arts interfered with the abstract sciences in the education of their daughters, that few of them were able to sew, and consequently for the most rudimental essays in dressmaking they were obliged to call in professional assistance. It was, therefore, a great surprise and satisfaction when they found that they had sempstresses nearly as accomplished in their own abodes.

Of course vrith the day-school was associated a Sabbath-school. To Lady Colquhoun her class became an object of ever-deepening interest, and by studying appropriate passages, and searching for memorable anecdotes and illustrations, she successfully laboured to make it attractive to her pupils.

As a teacher she had many advantages. Her voice vsras svseet and well-modulated, her countenance benevolent, and her whole manner was fuE of engaging earnestness; so that she gained entire ascendancy over her scholars, and by the accounts which they received of her proceedings, many of the parents were also induced to attend.

And she was not content vdth mere doctrinal instructions. She warned her youthful hearers against the sins to which they were actually exposed. And in many instances these affectionate persuasions succeeded. There was one bad custom in the West of Scotland at which she was especially grieved. It was the people’s habit, after a marriage, a baptism, or a funeral, at the close of pubUc worship, to invite their friends to the tavern, and there they regaled them -with, ardent spirits. Against this desecration of the Lord’s-day Lady Colquhoun set herself with all her might, and often alluded to it in her class. Her remonstrances were not without effect. Inveterate as the custom was, at the time of their own marriage some of her former scholars had courage to set it at nought, though others yielded; and it is to be feared that nothing except the spread of intel-Ugence and piety will extirpate the disgraceful usage. However, it is time that we allow the reader to return to that Journal in which Lady Colquhoun has undesignedly preserved her autobiography.

“Saturday, July 18, 1818 (before the Communion). — In time of worship there was an awful thunder-storm. How easily could God crush us worms! How shall we stand in that day when He shall be revealed in flaming &e? And how can any endure luiless covered with the robe Himself hath viTOUght? Blessed Jesus! though most unworthy, I feel a confidence that I am complete in thee.

“Monday, 20 {after the Communion.) — Mr. Gregor preached on 1 Thess. iv. 13, 14, — to me a most affecting subject. I never was so overcome in church before. Every word pictured my dear, dear saint to my imagination. Many a pang do I feel when I think of her. Yes, my Hannah, I cannot easily give thee up. Oh, that name! How many times have I uttered it with delight; and often now do I repeat it, — sweet, sweet Hannah! Dr. and Mrs. Buchanan were at church, and dined at the Manse, returning with us in the evening.

“Auy. 16. — My spirits for this little while have been low, I can hardly say whether from my recent loss or not; but the world appears dead to me, and my heavenly hopes less lively than within the last few weeks they were. I can hardly reahze the thought of joy, even in heaven. Still, my beloved Lord lives, and my life is hid with him in God. Thinking of God is the only refreshment I experience.

“Sept. 13. — This morning vias much enhvened by Isaiah li. 11, — ‘Therefore the redeemed of the Lord shall return, and come with singing unto Zion; and everlasting joy shall be upon their head: they shall obtain gladness and joy; and sorrow and mourning shall flee away.’ Why have the redeemed this joy? It is because they ’ obtain’ it from God. Oh, the perfect, the everlasting joy to which they are introduced! May the thought of it make the trials of life sit lightly! Methinks, could I always view the promised land, even through ever so thick a veil, these crosses would not be weighty.

“Nov. 1. — Once more, within these few days, I have endeavoured to do every action only as I think God would have me. I have tried to ask myself. Is this what God at this time would desire me to do?

“Wednesday, Dec. 2. — Attended another meeting of the Luss and Arrochar Bible Society. It flourishes beyond my hopes. Nearly 30/. have been collected; and though there were not many present, there were more than formerly, and they seemed to enter into the spirit of it. AU the office-bearers spoke; Sir James twice, and he affected me much, in particular when alluding to our Lord’s question to Peter, ‘Lovest thou me?’ What could I have answered had it been addressed to me? Strange, that in this I can never be decided; but if a desire to feed his sheep be a sign, of that I am confident. Oh, prosper, Lord, the means of spreading thy Gospel! ‘Let the people praise thee; let all the people praise thee. Amen, and amen. Then shall the earth yield her increase, and God, even our own God, shall bless us! ’

“March 28, 1819. — This day is memorable from two interesting conversations; one vsith a dear friend, another with a servant, to whom, along with the rest, I had given tracts. Oh, for a blessing on my poor feeble endeavours!

“May 9. — Read in Scott’s Commentary and a Prench Bible. One passage in the latter (John xvii. 24) dehghted my heart. It strikes me as more impressive than the EngHsh, — ‘Pere, mon desir est touchant ceux que tu m’as donnes, que la oii je suis, ils y soient aussi avec moi.’ Is this the desire of my Lord? How much more should I desire to be with him, and where he is? And why, sweet Jesus, dost thou desire to have me Tvith thee? Prom love it must be — everlasting love! Prom a delight, too, in the fruits of redemption; from seeing the travail of thy

H 2

soul; from the satisfaction of beholding pollution pure. And, doubtless, from the beneficent delight of carrying forward the saints, even in glory, to higher degrees of nearness to God, of holiness, of happiness.

“May 23. — ‘Tis now a year since my beloved sister has, I trust, been in glory. How differently has it been spent from all her other years! How contemptuously, perhaps, how wonderingly does she look down on the many earthly things which night once have agitated the mind! How pure are her thoughts! how delightftd the taste she has got of seraphic employments and entertainments! and how overjoying the thought that they shall never, never end! Oh, that we poor earthly pilgrims could realize something of such scenes, and rejoice in the hope of the glory of God!

“June 20. — Yesterday my father in Christ, worthy Dr. Buchanan, arrived here, and to-day he preached to us from 1 John i. 7. It was a short but comprehensive compendium of the Gospel. Was happy in hearing him, and also much struck with his heavenly temper and child-like confidence in God, combined with the largest charity. How rare are such graces even in Christians! Had a long and interesting conversation vdth him. Among other things, he exhorted me never to let slip an opportunity of declaring my sentiments, and endeavouring to do good, even to strangers. He also related several instances where ejaculatory prayer had been remarkably ansvirered, and recommended its frequent use.

“27. — I was struck with the trustMness, I might say assurance, of Dr. Buchanan in prayer; and recollecting how much in every page of the Bible it is warranted to the believer in Jesus, I resolved to dismiss my childish fears, and trust in God as mine for evermore. It is wonderful what an influence this belief has on the heart, and how it prepares for the practice of those graces which appear so beautiful in Dr. Buchanan. Gave Boston’s “Fourfold State” to the servants as part of their little library.

“July 35. — Afterwards heard my children — all my children; and, I tremble to viTite it, our little circle may never again meet in such circumstances. My beloved J. and J. leave us this week for Mr. Grainger’s academy in Lincolnshire, and if I am spared to see it, when they return they may be beyond this mode of instruction. The precious moments are gone when a mother’s warning voice might be heard vrith most effect. I have, indeed, this happy assurance, that if I could in any way have led my lambs to Christ, joyfully would I have done so; and that this was my first, and almost only ambition for them. And now would I commend them to God, and to the Word of his grace, which is able to bmld them up, and to give them an inheritance among them which are sanctified. Read to them Acts xx.

“Sept. 19. — Am at. this time happily situated in the society of my Lord’s dear children, dear to him and dear to me. Mr. Legh Richmond, who has been honoured to do so much good by his beautiful little tracts, came here last night, accompanied by one of his daughters, and another clergjmian, Mr. Westoby. They came in answer to prayer; my Lord has been loading me with benefits. Oh, how I love the fruits of the Spirit! there is nothing on earth can attract my regard half so much. With joy I beheld the image of my Lord shining brightly, and prayed fervently that these beauties may not only appear, but may flourish and abound in my whole life. Oh, that others might clearly discern that I had been vnth Jesus! At present I feel much encouraged and elevated. God is near. Have had some little trials, and do think I acted vdth regard to them as he would have me; and by prayer, and by trusting in him alone, all was ordered for the very best.

“Nov. 28. — Last week I was reading the Life of Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton. She seems to have been amiable, and rehgiously incUned; but oh, I pity the person, of whatever talents possessed, who is not hmnbled at the foot of the Cross; and this, I fear, she was not. She talks of the greatest enjoyment in this life as being the society of persons of genius. Ah no! she knew not that other happiness, communion with God and his people. She speaks in raptures of Mr. Alison’s Sermon on the Talents, where he distinctly assigns a reward to the use we make of our intellectual powers, &c. A reward! For our services! It must be of grace, not of debt. But these things x are often hid from the wise and prudent, and revealed to babes. DazzHng genius, how little canst thou do for thy possessor!

“Edinburgh, March 12, 1820. — In the evening I had my children and read the Life of Pearce. When reading the lives of eminent Christians, I am pleased, but humbled. ‘Less than the least of all saints,’ should be my motto. Without any affectation of humility, or the least intention of writing what is not strictly true, I see a very great disparity between the experience I read of, and what I feel. When believers complain, and mention how easily they yield to temptation, &c., I can say, This is my case; but when they speak of their joys, their raptures, their willingness to do, to be, or to suffer anything for Christ, their great love to him, &c., my hands hang down, and I can only exclaim. Oh, that it were thus with me! Yet will I, too, hope in the Lord my righteousness. Let me be content to sit down in the lowest room, for so has he appointed.

“Bossdhu, Aug. 20, 1820. — My brother Alexander and sister Catherine are here. C. is to remain for some months. I prayed to be permitted to benefit her. What real delight it would give me! She gave me to-day the manuscript of my Hannah’s ‘Letter,’ which I read over this forenoon, and could have thought I was conversing with my earhest friend. It is, indeed, a wonderful production, and has scarcely any corrections for the press. This forenoon I also read the first portion of my Diary, and was struck with the struggle against sin which appears in it; was comforted by observing it, but almost fearful that my watchfulness is not so great now. I do, however, think that I have attained to an easier victory over some sins, especially anger. Resolved and prayed to be enabled to scrutinize my heart and life, more as a Christian ought; to pass no fault unnoticed, to consider no evil trifling. Spent this evening in reading, and hearing C. read.

“Nov. 12. — After dinner read in Romaine’s ‘Walk of Paith.’ He says that it is impossible to love God for Ms holiness, without loving him as our reconciled Pather. To myself it appears that I have done SO; that the lovehness of his character was a great means of leading me to Christ. But probably I know not my own heart; at least, I would vdth diffidence contradict so great a writer.

“Royal Hotel, Edinburgh, Jan. 28, 1821. — I should be ashamed that any one of my fellow-Christians heard my prayers, or knew how cold and indifferent they usually are. And yet it truly does astonish me; God hears them. In very many instances they have been answered, and I hardly know an instance in which the rest may not be answered yet. I must indeed remember that it is through Christ, and I hope I feel that I have no other plea for acceptance. When begging for any blessing with a cold heart, I used to think, This prayer I cannot expect to be heard; but now I can trust, wonderful as it is, that this lifeless petition win find acceptance before the Throne. Often have my prayers been brought to my remembrance by their fulfilment.

“Feb. 11. — Heard Dr. Stewart of the Canongate, whom I have not heard since he was settled here.

Was much interested in the sermon, and in the preacher, who is in very delicate health. May God spare and bless his devoted servant!”

In the firmament of our Northern Church few names shine brighter than that of Dr. Alexander Stewart. Born in the Manse of Blair, and spending his boyhood amidst such romantic scenes as the Pass of Kilhcrankie, he received an early tincture of that enthusiasm and poetic fervour which make the Highlanders sublime; and then, after a brilliant career in St. Andrew’s University, by ducal patronage he was softly deposited in the Manse of Moulin. Just emerged from minority, and radiant with life and hope, he could scarcely credit the rare fehcity which had landed him in this goodly preferment, all unconscious of the probationer’s usual fears and perils. The Living was ample, the scenery delectable, the very congregation was picturesque; and in the quiet of a Scottish parsonage he could pursue those classical studies to which he was powerfully attracted, as in the society of an hospitable neighbourhood he could recreate his spirit vdth the mirth or the music in which he equally excelled. But all this while his heart was so little in his sacred calling that it was a great relief when few people came to his catechetical meetings, and from the most solemn engagements he hmried away to the dance or the novel. However, it was his great happiness to have for his friend a minister so enhghtened and fervent as Mr. Black of St. Madoes. Impressed by his holy example, Mr. Stewart began to take more serious views of the pastoral office, and longed to possess that piety which so beautified his neighbour’s character and so dehghtfuUy inspired his labours. An affectionate intercourse commenced, and Mr. Black’s letters and conversations had ftdly instructed in the way of God this yoimg Apollos, when, in June of 1796, Mr. Simeon paid a short visit to Moulin. Sufficient knowledge and an evangelical bias he had already received, and the vivid words of his guest were employed by the Spirit of God to impart his first jojivl emotions. And now that the gracious principle, slowly elaborated but hitherto invisible, had received the spark celestial, it blazed up, a burning and a shining light. The conversion of Mr. Stewart was followed by a remarkable awakening amongst his parishioners; and never did minister preach more powerfully than this ardent evangelist, never did hearers listen more wonderingly than these simple mountaineers. Its result was a revival, singular as occurring in the dullest age of the Scottish Church, and of which the many fruits are now ripening in places as remote as Cromarty and Calcutta.* After a translation to Dingwall, Dr. Stewart was brought for the last months of his life to labor in Edinburgh. His earnest and richly scriptural sermons derived much additional impressiveness from his enfeebled and death-stricken looks; and during her remaining Sabbaths in town, Lady Colquhoun continued to wait on his ministry with mournful affection. And when, next year, his friend Dr. Sieveright published his Life, it became her favourite book in Christian biography.

“March 18. — Oh, with what words of grateful acknowledgment shall I record the serious impression I have observed this day and lately in one very dear to me! I was dehghted in conversation, and my hopes rise almost to confidence. I think, and wonder at my prayer-hearing God. I can hardly in strong enough terms express my astonishment, I dare not say my gratitude, though I do feel grateful, at the numberless answers to prayer I am daily receiving. Bless the Lord, 0 my soul!

“Bossdhu, April 22. — Felt much interested in a

* Dr. Duff at Calcutta is a native of Moulin. Dr. Stewart’s eldest son, in many respects the most remarkable preacher in Scotland, lately died the Minister of Cromarty.

plan which I this day began, — reading aloud and explaining Doddridge’s Rise and Progress to two of my maids, Mrs. B. and G. Have long thought I neglected my duty towards them, in not myself explaining to them the doctrines of the Bible. Want of courage was the hhiderance; but I resolved to begin with these two, who have been very long with me.

“July 8. — Read and prayed with all my children. Since the return of my sons my heart has been much engaged in prayer for them all. I began a new plan with them to-day, — to get them to prove the various doctrines from the Bible direct.

“15. — To my great joy heard this day that Dr. Chalmers will preach at Luss in September. May the Spirit of God bring home to my heart the truths he so forcibly preaches!

“Aug. 5. — The Sacrament Sabbath at Axrochar, and Sir James has gone there. May his heart be prepared according to the preparation of the sanctuary, and may he be benefited! A few days ago I received Mr. Legh Richmond’s Memoir of my Hannah, — my dear Hannah. The delineation of her character is very complete; she was what is there described. I trust a blessing will attend it, and it gives me pleasure to think that I have had some hand in it. In many parts my words are retained, and I may thus be honoured to be useful without being seen.

“Sept. 9. — My God is gracious. I scarcely remember to have been favoured with so much of the

society of His people as at present. remained till

Tuesday, and was succeeded by Mr. Legh Richmond, his daughter, &c., and we had much agreeable and spiritual conversation. Mr. Hamilton of Strathblane came here yesterday, and preached to-day. He is a faithful and able labourer in God’s vineyard. I delight in the saints, the excellent of the earth, but it is out of their power to lead me to God. The best society will not do, without much retirement. I find deficiency in all. I would listen to the lesson which I ought to deduce from these observations, to ’ cease from man;’ I would learn to look forward with outstretched affections, to uninterrupted communion with God, — my God, my exceeding joy, — and to intercourse with the blessed without any mixture of defect.

“Sept. 16. — Again would I confirm what I vprote last Sabbath; it is deeply impressed upon my mind. Emptiness, insufficiency, is in the world, and in the world’s inhabitants, and is even found in the people of God. Can we expect spiritual light from creatures who are only in the dawn of their spiritual existence? God may work, and often does work by them; but when disappointment occm-s we need not wonder. Dr. Chahners preached here to-day. In the pulpit his powers are certainly great, and his reasoning very clear; but having heard that he is so extraordinary, I was, on the whole, disappointed. Mr. Simeon’s deep devotion and beautiful style impressed me more. Though heard above twenty years ago, his sermons are still vmtten on my heart. Thanks, Lord, that I ever heard them — that these affecting ordinances were afforded to me when I so much required them! By the remarks now made on communion with the saints I may seem to contradict what I wrote Sept. 19, 1819. What I mean is this — God may draw near, as Jesus drew near the disciples going to Emmaus, and may bless intercourse with his children; and then it becomes a dehghtfol means of grace: but he often does not, to disappoint their hopes, and lead them from the streams to the fountain.”

This extract is printed for the sake of its true and important reflections, and all the rather, because these are connected with a name transcendant amongst modern preachers, and to which eventually none could pay more cordial homage than Lady Colquhoun. But if this fu-st sermon did not fulfil all her expectations, perhaps it was for a reason which, had she known it at the time, would have only made hitn, to her pious mind, appear more noble. His text was, “The common people heard him gladly;” and, as was his wont on such occasions, he would lay aside his grand originahties, and labour after those obvious truths which common people are glad to hear. The Doctor always adverted to this visit with peculiar pleasure; nor must we forget to add the delight which it afforded to his new acquaintances at Rossdhu, from the boatmen who rowed him on the lake, and the little girl with whom he played at battledoor, up to the guests whom he one evening dazzled with an astronomical lecture, converting the dinner-table into an extempore orrery, with a d’oyley for the sun, decanters for the planets, and glasses for the moons. To Mr. Simeon’s clear and vivacious sermons Lady Colquhoun had been deeply indebted at the outset of her Christian course. There was one particularly to which she often adverted. The text was, “Ye will not come unto me that ye might have life;” and after reading it the preacher, in his own striking and peculiar manner, exclaimed, “Life? blessed Lord! dost thou offer us life?” and in an instant enchaining the attention of his auditory, he kept it solemnly rivetted to the close of his discourse.

“Nov. 18. — With much interest read and explained to my maids. I have now had resolution to take them all, and cannot but hope, from their apparent attention, that some benefit will accrue to them.

“May 5, 1832. — This Sabbath the influences of the blessed Spirit appear to me more sensible and sweet; genuine religion has more exercised its empire over my soul. I have lately been deeply humbled on account of heart sin, and last night in meditation had some realizing views of the necessity of salvation by Christ, and of his fitness to be a Saviour. To-day, in the morning prayed with sincerity and truth, and felt interested in church. Read three times aloud — to my young people, to my maids, and again at night, in the parlor. Felt pleasure in all, and longed and prayed for some fruit of my labor. Took a walk before tea, and spent an agreeable half-hour in meditation. Went to the family burying-place, and remembered those who are mouldering there, one of whom (Sir James’s father) I had intimately known. Imagined my dear husband and myself consigned to this narrow cell, and tried to look forward to the resurrection, and consider what alone can make it a joyful day to me. Por life and death commended myself to my Redeemer, whose protection alone can avail in the solemn scenes through which I must pass.

“June 3. — Was led to remember my fellow-worshippers at Halkirk. Their new pastor, Mr. Munro, who has got the church from Sir James, so much to the satisfaction of the parish, was to preach there for the first time to-day. May the Lord, the Spirit, descend on pastor and people!”

Por more than a year anterior to this date the health of Lady Colquhoun had been very delicate, and her allusions are frequent to that event which the most skilful physicians told her was its probable issue. In the prospect her feelings were calm, humble, and, although solemn, full of confidence in God.

“Oct. 27, 1822. — Last week I have felt far from well, which has led me to consider the possibility of this complaint still finishing my earthly career. The thought has done me good, and the prospect has not been dark. I have been enabled to view Christ as my eternal portion, and nearly to give up all besides. I feel wonderfully reconciled to leaving my husband and children, and I know I shall die or live as

God sees best for me. Dear Lord, thou art at all times managing for the best my little concerns. Last week, also, I had a most interesting private conversation vrith Miss Jane Parrell, vrho now appears a true disciple. I have seen her to-day, probably for the last time in this world, as she leaves Camstraddan on Tuesday for Ireland, and is shortly going to India, to be married. Well, in a future state ’ there shall be no more sea;’ nothing to divide the blessed inhabitants; nothing to interrupt their communion. I hope I have been of some use to this interesting girl.”

Mr. ParreU was proprietor of an estate near the Giant’s Causeway, in Ireland; but his vnfe was in deHcate health, and along with their three daughters they had resided for four or five summers at Camstraddan House, near Luss. Young ladies so well informed, and of manners so pleasing, were welcome visitors in most houses of that neighbourhood, and they were very often at Rossdhu. Miss Jane especially drew towards herself the affectionate observation of Lady Colquhoun. A prepossessing appearance, good sense, a cultivated mind, a warm heart, and frank and hvely manners, made her a universal favorite; but, beyond a weekly attendance at the parish church, she gave no evidence of an interest in the things of God. And even this church-going was a mere formality. “Have you remarked that picturesque old woman who on Sundays sits on the pulpit stairs?” she one day asked her friends at Rossdhu. Of course they had. “Oh!” said the amateur artist, “she is such a fine-looking old woman, -I cannot take my eyes off her the whole time of the sermon, and I am painting her likeness from memory. I can carry away each Simday an impression of her features sufficient to employ my pencil during the week.” But, in conjunction with other circumstances, the prospect of leaving home solemnized her mind, and led her to ask whether, separated from all the means of grace, her religion had strength to stand? and this led to another question — whether she had any religion at all? A severe mental conflict ensued, and at the time when her thoughts were all engrossed with these anxious questions, at a dinner-party she met Lady Colquhoun. On leaving the dining-room the ladies went out to walk round the garden. Lady Colquhoun and Miss Jane Farrell having separated from the rest, in her own sweet and engaging manner Lady Colquhoun introduced the subject of religion, and her young companion opened to her all her mind. After this their interviews were frequent, and as they were the principal means of leading this interesting inquirer into the light of the Gospel, they originated an ardent and life-long attachment. “Her last visit,” says our informant, “is still fresh on my memory. It was a bright autumnal morning, and I well remember her light and elegant form, as she glided along the avenue, after bidding farewell to her friend and adviser.” In company with Sir Edward and Lady Barnes she sailed for Ceylon, and was married to her brother’s partner, Charles Scott, Esq. From her home among the cinnamon-groves she wrote to her friend on Loch Lomond letters brimming over with the fulness of her own felicity, mingled with occasional misgivings as to her spiritual progress.” I possess great earthly happiness. I hear of my beloved family being in excellent health, and have the prospect of rejoining them in a very few years; and I have one of the kindest and most indulgent husbands that ever lived. But all these blessings, instead of raising my heart in thankfulness to the Giver of every good, and leading me to devote myself more to his service, seem only to bind my thoughts more firmly to this world; and I am often made to fear that I shall be deprived of some of those great mercies I am so unworthy of possessing. Yet no contrition seems to accompany the knowledge of my own sinfulness, and I have generally a gaiety and happiness of heart which should only be produced by the hope of daily advancing in meetness for the kingdom of heaven. When my prayers are cold and wandering, I feel I cannot deplore it as I ought, nor do I ask with sufficient earnestness for assistance to pray better; at the same time, I certainly do often feel the indescribable happiness of being able to trust in One mighty to save, and that it is not for our sakes that our prayers are accepted by God. I

think I am gaining rather more knowledge of my sinfulness, and of the waywardness of my heart; but, as I said before, it is unaccompanied by sorrow for my offences, and does not diminish that lightness of mind which is certainly gaining on me.” It was thus that Lady Colquhoun’s gentle and guileless nature drew forth the confidence of her younger friends especially, and encouraged them to tell her “all that was in their heart;” for they were as sure of kind sympathy as of wise advice. And, perhaps, the fears of her ingenuous correspondent were not without foundation. God may have seen what she herself suspected, and in order to bring the roaming spirit back into its quiet rest, he sent the windy storm and the tempest. Six weeks after these lines were written Mr. Scott was seized by a fatal malady, and in a few hours it tore him from the arms of his distracted wife. A devoted missionary, Mr. Mayor, heard of her distress, and along with Mrs. Mayor, the beloved sister of a man greatly beloved, — the Rev. E. Bickersteth, prevailed on her to come for a season to their calm and secluded abode. There she gradually regained composure, — at least serenity enough to benefit by the conversation and prayers of her deeply sympathizing friends; and when, in 1828, she returned to her native land, although she brought with her a heavy load of sorrow, she also brought a mind uncommonly devoted to God. From DubUn, on February 13, 1829, she thus wrote to Lady Colquhoun: —

“I have often intended writing to you. In the time of my deepest affliction, you were one of the very few my heart seemed to turn to, feeUng that you would understand where consolation can alone be found. I have indeed been in a strong fire of affliction since I last wrote to you. Oh! that the fire had consumed more of the dross. Then I was at the height of earthly happiness. The fall was sudden and violent, and unless upheld by an Almighty arm, I must have perished in my affliction. On the first

shock I was left to my own strength, and the mind wandered mider the acuteness of anguish. It seemed as if I could not pray; yet even the first look to Him whose compassions fail not, was answered, and in a way I could not have conceived before. I was made to experience my ovoi inability to have so much as one thought, except by the help of God, and his wondrous power to shed into the soul the richest spiritual consolations in the midst of nature’s woe. Oh the deep, deep, almost overpowering views then given me of the vastness of eternity; and great in proportion was the consolation, when, by the tender mercy of God, there came back on the mind the transporting conviction that the soul, which seemed the dearer part of my own, was entered on an eternity of blessedness, — that, as surely as Christ died and rose again, even so them also that sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. And the evidence that his state was such, was so abundant, as to raise my soul in wonder and gratitude. My earthly, backsliding heart had been so satisfied with present happiness as to be comparatively forgetful of spiritual; but now I remember with indescribable comfort, these last seven or eight months in particular, the gradual, the beautiful change, that often made me exclaim to myself, ‘I may have more of religion on my lips, but he has infinitely more of it in his heart.’ The sting of my many omissions, in regard to his spiritual welfare, I thought at first could never be extracted; but my compassionate God has been pleased long to remove it, and even change it into an additional motive of gratitude to Him who did it all himself, and who did not allow my sinfulness to come in the way of the great work of His salvation.”

Then, after mentioning Mr. Mayor’s providential visit to her dying husband, and her sojourn in the house of the missionary and his “truly Christian wife,” she concludes: —

“My voyage was such as to keep faith in constant exercise, — many dangers, but a powerful, protecting God appearing through all. I may humbly say, ‘Hitherto hath the Lord helped me.’ I am continually made to feel my weakness. Were I trying to look to earth, in any shape, for comfort, the heart would yet entirely sink under sorrow. But, blessed be our faithful God, who will never leave nor forsake us; who can give us faith to rest in his promises; and who can show the blessed termination, when those sundered on earth shall unite for ever in praising redeeming love. My dear Lady Colquhoun, I have given you a letter filled about myself; but I know you win join with me in praising the mercy and love of our. Saviour God. Your letter was indeed most comfortable to me. I received one from you at Baddagama, written when you thought me in the midst of earthly happiness. I was struck by your saying in it: ‘If we cannot give our hearts to God, let us pray that he will take them — by any means take them.’ You had little idea then that it required my best earthly treasure to be taken to heaven before I could feel that my all was there.”

The eighteen years of her vsddowhood were spent in a succession of nunistrations to one invahd or afflicted relation after another, which in several instances appear to have been blessed to their everlasting salvation. At last, in the year 1845, and when she hoped to see again her spiritual parent, the Lord called her to himself. She said, when dying, “I laid too much stress on the ministry of man, and dehghted in it. I cannot now converse but with difficulty. God is dravniUg me off from all earthly props that I may lean solely on himself. How abundantly I felt the promise fulfilled last night! The Comforter, the Holy Ghost, was indeed sent, and abundant was the supply of Scripture brought to my remembrance. Not merely what I had committed to memory, but large portions that I had not, came pouring in to comfort me.” And as God had taught her to live upon himself, so she was very fearful of bemg too highly exalted, or too much spoken of by others. A diary which she had kept she destroyed before her death, and when told that a friend had written to inquire how she was, and how she had felt supported, she said, “I can so well understand Mr. Simeon’s feeUngs,”* and, like him, she for a moment or two waxed quite eloquent in extoUing her Saviour, and disparaging herself; and like him also she silently departed, telling her attendant to keep the room quiet, for she was going to sleep.

Thus, on earth they never met again, and in the many thoughts which followed her to her Indian

* “He was evidently much hurt at the thought of even his dearest friends coming round to disturb the privacy which he had always wished for in his dying hour. He had repeatedly charged me to keep every one away from him when that solemn season should arrive, and remain with him myself alone. * * * Next morning he referred to what had happened the previous night. ‘Now, I was much hurt at the scene last night: a scene! a death-hed scene I abhor from my inmost soul. No! ’ he continued, smiting three times slowly on his breast, ‘No; I am, I know, the chief of sinners; and I hope for nothing but the mercy of God in Christ Jesus to life eternal; and I shall be, if not the greatest monument of God’s mercy in heaven, yet the very next to it; for I know of none greater.*” — Carus Life of Simeon, p. 810. bungalow, her Irish home, and her cottage on the brink of Niagara, in the fancy of her friend it was always the same Jane Parr ell. And though the widow’s garb was worn, and though many griefs and watchings by sick beds had doubtless changed that pleasant countenance, no change came over that ardent, ingenuous, and self-devoting mind. And down to the close of life Mrs. Scott retained a fervent attachment to Lady Colquhoun, and in her letters fondly reverted to the happy days when “first she knew the Lord,” and when they were wont to take sweet counsel together. “Dear, dear Lady Colquhoun, I have indeed often thanked God for having given me such a Christian friend. When my mind was awakening, you were the first that spoke home to me. You first directed me plainly to Jesus, and encouraged me with the assurance that He would carry on the work which He alone could commence. And, dear friend, what increasing comfort there is in that view, grounded on God’s own Word, that He will perfect that which concerneth us, and wUl not forsake the work of his own hands. What a God we have! God in Christ. Truly you say, ‘The end of our trials is to endear to us Jesus, and loose our hold of everything else.’” Of these trials the meek writer had many, and one was the loss of the letters addressed to her by her endeared correspondent. During a sojourn at Kingston, Upper Canada, the house in which she was residing was burnt to the ground, and we cannot forbear inserting a portion of the letter in which she describes the calamity, April 8, 1837: —

“You kindly said you would send me ‘The Kingdom of God.’ AU my efforts to procure it have been vain, and, alas! its beautiful sister, which I prized so much, is gone. Where? Like many other fair and lovely things, to dust and ashes. We were living in greater comfort than I ever expected to meet in Canada; too much at ease, no doubt; when one night a fire broke out below us. The flames spread rapidly, and all our worldly goods were consumed. It was night; the house, of course, in total darkness, and all sound asleep, till wakened by loud cries of ‘Fire! ‘Our rooms were at the greatest distance from the hall, and worst situated for escape. The fire originated in a hardware store under the boarding-house, and when we got outside the house we heard there was gunpowder in the store sufficient to blow it up. Two explosions there were; but they did no additional harm. So there we stood, in the snow, watching the fierce flames forking up from our rooms, so shortly before the picture of peace and comfort. Nothing could be done, and the whole of it was so ordered that one could only offer it up into His hands who can make all things work together for good, and pray that we might effectually learn the lessons it was meant to teach. Besides much valuable property, I have lost all my books and written papers and letters, my Indian things, with all mementoes of beloved friends and past times. Another hint to forget the things which are behind, and press forward. But why do I thus detail our little losses? I meant not to do it. Rather let me speak of the great gain, the ever-increasing comfort of the promises, and of our Lord’s love, who in every trial condescends to speak such peace as raises the heart to Himself in continual thanksgiving. When I think of what I deserve I can only wonder at his gentle dealings. He often says, ‘What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter;’ and he graciously lets so much of his hand of love be seen in every trial, that it is easy work to trust him with the remainder.”

Of the many letters which Lady Colquhoun addressed to this younger sister “in the kingdom and patience of Jesus Christ,” we are thus precluded from offering to the reader any specimen. But even this shght record of so dear a friend may reflect some light on the character of Lady Colquhoun. It shows, at least, how alert she was for opportunities of doing good, and how graciously God honoured her consistency and prospered her fidelity. Nor will it be a vain digression if it enkindle in the reader or the writer aspirations after that heavenly-mindedness and holy skill which made the subject of this biography a living epistle, and which so frequently converted morning calls and evening visits into “walks of usefulness.”