Sunset in Autumn

PRECIOUS IN THE SIGHT OF THE LORD IS THE DEATH OP HIS SAINTS. — PSALM CXVI. 15.

The quiet chamber where the Christian sleeps, And where, from year to year, he prays and weeps; Whence, in the midnight watch, his thoughts arise To those bright mansions where his treasure lies, — How near it is to all his faith can see! Yes, for that bliss unspeakable, unseen. Is ready, and the veil of flesh between A gentle sigh may rend, and then display The broad, full splendour of an endless day.

JANE TATLOE.

The last chapter left the subject of this Memoir ia shattered health; and from its depressing influence on the nervous system, the illness of that spring was at first peculiarly painful. The temperament of Lady Colquhoun was in unison with her sober judgment, and any deviations from its habitual tranquillity were generally in a cheerftd direction j and so seldom was her religious experience tinctured vsdth gloom, that she had a very imperfect sympathy with the deep dejection of some eminent Christians, in whose biography she otherwise found delight and instruction. When, therefore, dreary or disconsolate weeks were appointed, she felt as if some strange thing had happened to her; but, instead of yielding to despondency, her sound understanding ascribed to its real pathological origin this withdrawment of sensible comfort, and with unshaken confidence she rested still on the Exjck of her Salvation; and through her heavenly Father’s

2B3 LIFE or LADY COLQUHOUN.

tender mercy, this trying attendant on her malady was ere long succeeded by her wonted serenity.

Having come to Rossdhu in May, as has already been mentioned, she was obliged to return to Edinburgh for medical advice almost immediately. There, in much weakness, she spent the month of June; and we have now before us the notes, neatly, but feebly virritten, in which she conveyed tidings of her progress to her servants at home. To her attached housekeeper she wrote, —

“Monday. — Your few Hues, which I received this morning, gave me pleasure, — to hear of the dear child’s keeping well, and that all is going on comfortably. I am able to be up now, and in the parlour; but this last Ulness has thrown me back. I would say I am sorry, but am silenced by the thought, — it is the Lord. Dr. Simpson is now to go on with his prescriptions, to which the Lord can give efficacy if so seemeth Him good. But what if now should be His time to call me hence? I should be ’ also ready.’ He will do well. I do not know that there is much cause for alarm. I have less nervousness, and sleep better. We have comfortable lodgings. I am in good hands. (Deut. xxxiii. 3.) I am happy you had such good assistance at the communion.

“Your sincere friend, — J. C.”

To her little grandson, now two years old, she had always shown the tenderest affection, and a chief part of her present trial was separation from him. Many of these notes are addressed to his nurse: —

“May 29. — I was very glad indeed to hear that my dear little boy continued strong, and was behaving well. May God in mercy watch over him, and bring me back to him in comfort! I sometimes feel the thought that (poor little fellow!) he cannot understand why I have left him. I am going on with the means prescribed, and have less of the nervousness than I had, and I sleep better. I am out as much as possible, and have every reason to be thankful for goodness and mercy following me.”

In the beginning of July she returned to Dumbartonshire, recruited; but on the 18th of that month an aguish fever compelled her to hasten back to Edinbiu-gh. There again the means were blessed; and she recovered strength enough to hear Dr. Gordon and Mr. GOlies preach, and was able to pay a visit to the venerable widow of her old pastor. Dr. Buchanan. When Lady Colquhoun rose to take leave, her aged friend insisted on accompanying her to the door; and to the gentle remonstrance of her niece, replied, “It is the last time.” She did not think that the younger was to go first, for her “own time was not yet.”

Erom Edinburgh, about the middle of August, she proceeded to Helensburgh, and was sufficiently well to take a lively interest in every movement affecting the welfare of the Redeemer’s kingdom. She had there, in the preceding year, organized a branch of the Irish Home Mission; and whilst its afi’airs gave her some occupation, she was greatly cheered by accounts of the progress made by Hindoo girls attending the schools of her favourite Society in India. A month’s sojourn on the coast apparently revived her strength; and at the period of her final return to Rossdhu, her habitual language was gratitude to the Pather of mercies. Peaceful slumber was a boon which she now frequently enjoyed, and had learned exceedingly to prize; and in the mornings she would frequently say, “How thankful should I be when I think of Mrs. Cathcart!” Mrs. C. had been deprived of rest at night for a long time before her death, — the only true repose she could obtain being a short sleep in the evening, on a sofa in the drawing-room.

On the 39th of September, when out walking, she was overtaken in a shower, and obliged to seek shelter under a tree. She herself apprehended no injmy, and smiled at the excessive caution of her family in sending out cloaks and shawls. Next morning, however, she complained of sore throat and fever; but though that morning she appeared at the breakfast-table, and for two days continued to go about and converse with her usual cheerfulness, she evidently grew worse, and before Sabbath the 4th of October, she had taken to that bed from which she was never again to arise. On that first Sabbath of her illness, one of the servants, to whom she had often spoken on the concerns of her soul, came into the room; and, after saying a few kind words to her, Lady Colquhoun offered to pray with her, as she had frequently done in other days. The» brief but touching prayer will not readily be forgotten by her on whose behalf it was offered, all the rather, that every utterance had now become an exertion. To one of her family that day she said emphatically, “‘Christ is all my salvation and all my desire.’ I hope for salvation in nothing but Christ.”

At an early period of her illness she sent for Sir James, desiring to speak to him alone. She told him that before she became too iQ, she wanted to give directions about her funeral; that she did not wish to have any one invited but the nearest relations, and that it should be quite private. She then sent for her youngest son, and with perfect composure told them her apprehension as to the result, adding, “I die at the foot of the cross.” Next day she gave her youngest son directions regarding certain charities, one of which was, that the sum she had paid for the education of a theological student should be continued tUl his college course was ended. “I see,” she said, “that you are affected; but I know that you will pay attention to my wishes, as I have not left them as bequests in my wiQ.” She then subjoined with great earnestness, “Christ is my Portion; and, oh! what a Portion! Seek that Portion.”

A message had been sent to Edinburgh for Dr. Simpson. His partner. Dr. Keith, arrived on the 6th, and stayed all night; Dr. Simpson came on the 9th; and during the remainder of her illness — an attack of dysentery then prevalent, — one or other of these distinguished practitioners was frequently with her, doing all that skin and kindness could devise, often to the great temporary relief of their patient. But from her first seizure she herself seemed to have only one impression regarding the issue. About a week after its commencement she said to one of the household, “Mrs. L., I am convinced that this illness is to end in death; and I have just one hope — only one, — and that is, the finished work of Jesus.” On her

attendant expressing a hope that she might recover, she answered, “Oh, no! And for me to live would be Christ, but to die will be gain, — unspeakable gain;” and then, after a short prayer, she musingly added, “And shall I see Him as He is — so soon? And shall I join the redeemed around the throne? Overwhelming thought 1” The next day, — and it was the only day that she so complained, — she spoke as if imder a cloud, and requested that those words might be read to her (Isa. xhii. 1 — 3), “Pear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine. When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee. Por I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour.” But after that she seemed to be no more disturbed, often saying, “What a blessing it is that the enemy is kept away!” And from her lips were constantly dropping such expressions as, “The righteous hath hope in his death.” “I know that my Redeemer hveth.” “I cannot praise Him as I would; but I shall yet praise Him in perfection; yes, through all eternity.”

She earnestly desired to see her daughter, Mrs.

Page Reade; but as the distance was great, feared that she might not reach Rossdhu in time to see her alive.

It was a great delight to her when her second son arrived from Edinburgh. She took his hand, saying, “That dear hand!” and after conversing cheerfully and minutely with him about his family, she ended by affectionately giving him her blessing.

Two lovely features of Christian character were very observable during this illness, a sweet acquiescence in the will of God and a constant mindfulness of others. Her sufferings were often very great, but she bore them without a murmur. On one occasion, when the pain was violent, and in eagerness for speedy rehef many palliatives were tried in quick succession, she said to one of the servants, “I fear you vnU think me impatient; “and the servant, who was only thinking of her mistress’s sufferings, could give no answer but by bursting into tears. Another time, when her daughter was expressing the hope that she might yet be spared to them, her answer was,” And would you wish to keep me here? You don’t know what I suffer.” Then recollecting how these words might be understood, and alarmed at the idea of their conveying an impression of repining, with a look of anguish she exclaimed,” Oh, do I complain?

I did not mean to complain. I retract these words.” And when there was any abatement of suffering, she took care to apprize those near her, often by a single word when she could say no more, “Better, easy, — easier,” or “The Lord be praised for that.” And in perfect seK-forgetfdness, her great concern was for the health and comfort of those who ministered to her. In deep weakness she would remember the minutest precautions lest her daughter might catch cold sitting by her bedside over-night. During her own sickness the oldest inmate of the estabHshment was very low, — the aged nurse, Mrs. Barbara Graham. For years this faithful servant had been very frail and almost bed-ridden, and now, like her kind mistress, she was rapidly sinking; and to Lady Colquhoun it was a frequent anxiety, lest in their attendance on herself poor Graham should feel lonely or be any way overlooked. Amongst other relatives then at Rossdhu was her sister-in-law. Miss Colquhoun; and, speaking to her, she remarked, “You must find this a dull house,” and she charged her servants to do all they could for the comfort of the guests, so that they might not be too much reminded of her own indisposition.

She could now take scarcely any sustenance, and as it was with the outer, so was it with the inner

s2 man. Her soul desired no dainty meat. And though she had many favourites in Christian authorship, during these latter days she never asked a portion from one of them. In the same vray, though her memory was richly stored with hymns and spiritual songs, it looked as if the familiar stanzas were now forgotten. To her the word of God was by this time everything. Such texts as Isaiah xxxii. 2, John xiv. 27, and xvii. 24, Romans vui. 32 — 39, were cordials which her spirit drank in when it cared for nothing else. That passage in the Romans was the last to which she listened, and it is interesting to know that it is the last which was read to her beloved sister, Hannah. And though it was an effort to speak much, it seemed to make the effort less if it were some “tried word” that she was quoting. Just previous to this illness her daughter had been suffering from headache, and one day to her affectionate inquiry Miss Colquhoun replying that she was quite well, she rejoined, “He stayeth his rough wind in the day of his east wind.” And at the time when her precarious state was first revealed to her family, perceiving Miss. C. in deep distress, she gently said, “‘All his saints are in thy hand.’ Do you remember that?” — alluding to a sermon preached in the foregoing spring, by Mr. GOlies, the notes of which had afforded her singular delight. And at another time, turning to her daughter with a look of ineffable fondness, she repeated, “I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.”

About seven days before her departure she sent for all the servants, and spoke to them separately on the things of their eternal peace. To one she said, “Mary, you will soon lose me. Your day may not be so near, but it is coming; see that you have an interest in Christ before that; for what would I do to-day without him? M., don’t forget me, and remember all I have told you; and be sure you attend to the preaching of the Word. I benefited much from that in my own youth. And thank you for all that you have done for me.” To another she said, “Look at me, a poor helpless creature, and don’t put off preparing for eternity till you come to a death-bed. May the Lord be with you!” To another, “Now I., be kind to Graham as long as you have her; but above all, oh remember your own soul 1 Good by, God bless you!” And to one in whose spiritual welfare she had much interested herself, “Well, Mary, I wish to bid you good by; for I will soon be taken from you. Never forget what I have said to you; and oh, take Jesus for your friend, and then there will be no fear of you; good by, Mary.” And great as was the exertion to her wasted frame, so intent was she on addressing a word of kindness and parting counsel to every one of them, that, having missed one of the men-servants she sent a messenger to bring him. She had something suitable for each, and no one was overlooked.

What else transpired within the precincts of that hallowed chamber must be told in the words of filial affection: —” She now felt as if her work were done. At the same time she declared that she renounced all dependance on anything she had ever performed, as her best was altogether sinful; adding, ‘Christ is my hope, should be my motto; I rely entirely on his finished work.’ To myself she said, ‘My death will do you more good than my life could do; for it will show you more forcibly than anything that can happen, the vanity of earthly things.’ After expressing in strong terms how much she felt at leaving me behind, she said, ‘I wish I could take you with me; but God can make up my loss to you.’ I told her that a letter had come to her from her beloved friend. Miss S. She said, ‘Poor A.! little does she think of the news that awaits her; ’ but she did not ask to have the letter read. Indeed she was too iU to listen.

“Six days before her death, the nurse brought her little grandson to the door of her chamber, and I asked if she might bring him in. ‘Oh, yes,’ she repHed, ’ tell her to bring him in that I may see him for the last time.’ Her eyes were now ahnost constantly closed, but she raised them and looked on him with inexpressible tenderness. Then giving him her blessing, she prayed ’ that the Lord might make him a child of grace, and that, if spared, he might yet witness for his own cause.’ She then said, ‘I have given him up to God, and commit him to His care; ’ and gave his nurse her blessing. The dear child’s look of infantine delight at again beholding his grandmamma was touchingly contrasted vsdth all besides in that solemn scene. She spoke of her daughter, Mrs. Reade, and of the probability that she and Mr. Reade were then on their way. ‘But tell Helen how much I love her, and give my love to Mr. Reade, and their dear, dear little boy.’ That evening, when all the family who were then at home were assembled in her apartment, she desired a light to be brought near, and asked if they saw much change in her appearance; but though very wasted, it was wonderftd how little alteration had come over that placid countenance.

“On the morning of the 17th, her sister and sister-in-law being about to leave, came to bid her farewell. To Miss Diana Sinclair she said, ‘Set the Lord Jesus always before you, and it wUl be your comfort on your death-bed, as it is at this moment mine.’ In a previous interview her sister had been much affected by her aiking, ‘Do I not remind you of Hannah? ‘When Miss Colquhoun afterwards came into the room, she likewise exhorted her to go to the Saviour, and embraced her affectionately and gave her her blessing. By that day’s post intel-Hgence was received that Mr. and Mrs. Reade would reach Rossdhu in the evening. They accordingly arrived at seven o’clock, having travelled day and night. The meeting, though affecting, was an inexpressible comfort to mother and daughter.

“On first seeing Mrs. Reade, she repeated, ‘I am so thankful, I am so thankful; ’ adding, ‘Yesterday I never expected to see you again in this world; but how merciful is my gracious Lord to hear my prayers, that you may receive my parting blessing still! ‘And then she continued, ‘But I am much better to-day; indeed, I feel better since you arrived; although you must find me much changed. However, we must look from this to the glorious change.’ She then asked to see Mr. Reade, and her young grandson, James Reade, for whom she had always evinced a great affection. He was then seven years old. She reminded him of the times when she used to take such pleasure in teaching him chapters from the Bible and hymns, and when she used to teU him of Jesus’ love to little children. She then asked him to repeat the last six verses of the eleventh chapter of Matthew, and then told him that she had no fears of death because she had cast her ’ heavy load ’ on Jesus, who was willing to receive ’ all ’ who ’ came ’ to him. And when she ended vsdth saying, ‘I trust, dear boy, we shall one day meet in heaven; there is plenty of room there,’ and more to the same purport, tears filled the eyes of all who overheard her simple exhortation.”

Being so much better that day, Mrs. Reade asked what would be her own wishes in regard to recovery. She answered that her only tie to life now would be to be with them all, and then she said, “Perhaps it would be better if I went now, having advanced so far on the way; for even if I do recover from this illness, I shall sooner or later have to go through the same scene again, and at my period of life the time must be short.”

“A few days before her death,” — we resume Miss Colquhoun’s narrative, — “on being raised up, she remarked, with apparent satisfaction, that she could not see out of the window nor distinguish objects at any distance. Thankfulness was still a prominent trait of her disposition, and every rehef from pain called forth some grateful acknowledgment. ‘Thanks, Lord,’ was her usual emphatic expression every time she received her medicines or such slight nourishment as she was able to take. Dr. Simpson’s last visit was on the night of the 19th, and he was again the means of alleviating her sufferings for a time. He could do no more. She gradually relapsed, and it was plain that her release could not be distant. She herself seemed to long for it, and frequently repeated, ‘Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly.’ She asked if the doctors would not know by her pulse how long she was likely to last, and said to Mrs. Reade, when they were together alone, ‘Now think if there is anything else you would like to say or to ask; for my time is very short.’ Mrs. R. replied, ‘You seem very anxious to be gone.” Yes,’ was the answer, ‘the sooner the better now, for me and for you too; but I must be patient.’ She then said, ‘Dearest H., you will never forget all I have said to you. I sometimes fear I have not said enough to you all; but I commit you to the Saviour.’ Mrs. R. said, ‘I am sure it rests with ourselves if we have not benefited as we ought.’ She replied, ‘That’s gratifying,’ — and after a few more remarks, ended at that time by embracing her affectionately, and with great earnestness and solemnity gave her the final blessing. She then desired Mrs. R. to bring her little boy, James Reade, that he might also receive her parting blessing, and she took leave of him in a most affectionate manner. On the evening of the 20th she took an affectionate leave of her eldest and youngest sons. She thanked my eldest brother for all his kindness to her, particularizing some of her obUgations to him, and then she gave each of them her last blessing, adding, ‘I hope to meet you all at the right hand of the Judge.’ After midnight she desired that I should endeavour to procure some rest, and as her attendants promised to come for me if Lady Colquhoun became worse, I complied, the more readily as the violence of her sufferings had now considerably abated. Towards morning she showed her usual consideration for those around her. A maid-servant had sat up to relieve one of her regular attendants; and when she was leaving the room, though articulation was now very difficult, she said, ‘Remember, M., you must not go to your work as usual to-day.’ That morning, the 21st, I found her quiet, and apparently free from pain, though evidently going home. Her eyes were closed, but she was not asleep; for when I spoke she threw her arms round my neck and kissed me aiFectionately. It was a mother’s last embrace. She then said to me, ‘My Sarah, I have not given you my blessing. I pray that God may bless you with all spiritual blessings in heavenly places in Christ Jesus.’ By and by she said, ‘1 wish none to be with me but ray famUy.’ My sister and I knew that this was in allusion to her last moments. She again asked to see her little grandson, James Reade; but when he was brought the shades of death had obscured her sight. She said, ‘Where is he? I cannot see him.’ Mrs. R. put his hand within hers, and she grasped it firmly, her hps moving as if in prayer. Mrs. R. and I sat down by her bed-side, and after a short interval I said to her, ‘We shall meet in heaven.’ She returned no answer, nor could I be sure that she heard me. I then said, ‘And Jesus is with you now.’ She turned her head round to me, and made an effort to reply, and by the expression of her countenance I am

quite certain that she understoodme. She spoke no more, and seemed as in a soft sleep. She faintly acquiesced when Mrs. Reade asked if she would like to see Mr. Stewart, in whose visits she had taken peculiar pleasure. She was quite unable to speak to him when he arrived, but assented when asked if he should pray. We kneeled down, and in a most solemn and impressive prayer Mr. S. coromended her soul to God. After this she lingered, as if in a peaceful slumber, until three o’clock in the afternoon, when, without a struggle, a groan, or sigh, her willing spirit took its flight to those glorious realms for which she had longed so ardently. But so gentle, so imperceptible was her release, that for some time we cotdd scarcely believe she was really gone. ‘She was not, for God took her; ’ and after death her countenance retained the peaceful, tranquil look it had worn when living.”

It was on Wednesday, October 21, 1846, that her shining path thus merged in perfect day. And on the following Saturday another pilgrimage ended. Mrs. Graham only outlived by three days that kind and grateful mistress who had provided with every comfort her years of infirmity and decay. On Tuesday the 27th the chapel, which ten years before had received the remains of her husband, opened for the coffin of Lady Colquhoun. In compliance with her own request, she still wore her wedding-ring and a mourning ring containing Sir James’s hair. The funeral was private, but a few of the people in the neighbourhood sought and received permission to be present. Mr. N. Stewart conducted the usual service before the precious remains were carried forth to the place of sepulture. It was exactly four weeks that day when last she looked on the tints of autumn. The copses were russet then, and the noble trees around the mansion wore their final drapery of scarlet, and brown, and gold, a sight which she used wonderfully to admire. But by the time the withered leaves were drifting into her grave, she needed not to mind that it was vdnter in the earth; for, instead of the roughening lake and the searing forest, God had showed her “the pure river, clear as crystal,” and “the tree of Ufe, yielding fruit every month,” and whose leaves “heal the nations:” and, better stUl, she had found her life-long wish; she “served God and saw his face.”

On the following Sabbath her funeral sermon was preached from Heb. vi. 12, in the Pree Church of Luss, by her much-valued friend and minister, the Rev. Neil Stewart, and in the parish church an appropriate and impressive sermon was delivered from John xiv. 27, by the Rev. Robert Wright. And when the various religious societies and charitable institutions with which she had been connected held their next meetings, they placed on record their fervent tributes of affection and esteem.*

* In the” Thirty-sixth Annual Report of the Gaelic School

Tall and dignified, with an ample and intellectual forehead, and with beautiful Grecian features, lighted

Society,” appeared the following just and discriminating notice, which we have much satisfaction in transferring to these pages: —

“Before passing from what refers to the Ladies’ Association, your Committee lament to say, that in common with all the friends of religion in this land, they have, in the death of Lady Colquhoun, to mourn over the removal from among them of one who formed a distinguished member of Christ’s Church upon earth, — one who adorned the profession of Christianity, and who formed an invaluable friend of the Gaelic School Society, as Treasurer of the Ladies’ Association, and one of the Society’s Vice-Patronesses. The Committee have a melancholy satisfaction in transferring to these pages the minute which they have recorded elsewhere, on this affecting event in the history of the past year, — with the sentiments expressed in which, they feel assured, all the friends of the Society will heartily sympathize: —

“‘It is with deep concern and solemnity of feeling that the Committee have now to record the death of Lady Colquhoun, of Luss, who for several years has acted as Treasurer to the Ladies’ Auxiliary Association in connexion with this Society. They are deeply sensible that the event is felt by the religious world to be a public loss. The influence of Lady Colquhoun’s holy and consistent life; the character of her writings, uniting spirituality of tone, and faithfulness in sentiment, with mental acuteness and elegance of diction; the munificence of her offerings to the cause of Christ, which was ever dear to her; and, above all, the efficacy of her fervent prayers, combined to render her at once the ornament of her numerous circle of friends, and an esteemed and truly valuable member of the

up by a fine complexion and an eye mildly penetrating, there was something pecuharly prepossessing

Church of Christ. The removal of one who, in the providence and by the grace of God, occupied such a position, especially at such a time, is an occurrence which cannot fail solemnly to affect the minds of all who are concerned for the cause of truth.

“‘But the Committee feel that their province is specially to regard this event in its bearing on the Gaelic School Society. It is with melancholy interest they record the lively and affectionate concern uniformly evinced by Lady Colquhoun for the prosperity of this Institution. In its times of difficulty and trial she was its faithful, zealous, self-denying, devoted friend. When it pleased the Lord to vouchsafe to its efforts any marked tokens of his countenance and blessing, such tidings were ever to her the occasion of humble gratitude and praise. The Society received largely of her bounty, and no doubt was often the subject of her prayers. Reflecting on the high place which she was enabled to occupy, the Committee feel that in her removal by the hand of Providence, one of their chief earthly props has been taken away.

“‘But it is the Lord’s hand which has smitten. He is teaching by this event to “cease from man,” and to look with undivided reliance to his grace and power. He will graciously maintain his own cause, and command the light to shine even out of darkness. The Committee would, therefore, while feeling the stroke, desire to go on with their humble labours, encouraging themselves in the Lord. In the meantime, they would take comfort in reflecting on the well-grounded hope which they are warranted to cherish regarding their valued and lamented friend. And while they pray that this solemn event may be sanctified to themselves and to all who knew the in the youthful appearance of Lady Colquhoun. A total absence of aflPectation superadded the perfecting

Christian worth and zeal of Lady Colquhoun, they fervently trust that the Lord will be pleased specially to bless it to her sorrowing family and relatives. To them the bereavement is, humanly speaking, irreparable. But their sorrow may well be turned into joy, for it is written, “Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord, from henceforth: yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours; and their works do follow them.” ’

The same event was thus noticed in the Report on Female Education in India: —

“During the past year, not a few of those who once were distinguished associates with us in this great enterprise, whose tenderest sympathies were long ago aroused for the manifold sorrows of the daughters of India, and whose delight it was to devise and to prosecute plans which should ensure their complete and final redemption from all their woes, have ceased to be engaged in such occupations on earth. Lady Colquhoun, of Luss, one of your Society’s earliest and most highly-valued friends, with whose enlightened Christian counsels and prevailing intercessions it was for long so eminently favoured; and Major John St. Clair Jameson, of Bombay, whose honoured name is associated in the minds of so many in this country, with their first feelings of commiseration for the fate of their afflicted sisters in the East, as well as other less distinguished, but not less devoted friends of the cause, have within the last few months rested from their labours and entered upon their reward.

“Regarding the elevated character of the late lamented Patroness (Lady Colquhoun), the Committee feel that it would be superfluous now to remark. The distinguished gifts she

T charm of a sweet unconsciousness. Her elevated mind and graceful manners were instinct with

possessed, which all were consecrated to the noblest and best of purposes; her matured graces, which served so eminently to adorn the doctrine of her God and Saviour, — these were well known and appreciated in the Churches while she was yet here, and will long be cherished in the fond remembrance of many, now that she is gone. But the Committee are assured that the following brief extract from the last letter written to your agent at Calcutta by their revered departed friend, indicating, as it does, the views and feelings she entertained regarding India during her last days on earth, will be regarded as possessing peculiar interest by all the members of the Society: —

“‘I would vnsh to encourage the hope that there is a blessing in store for India. The windows of heaven seem opening; put in your claim for a share of the refreshing shower. Hope on! Wait on! Urge and work on! After toil, rest is sweet; and the rest that remains for the people of God will be most welcome to those who have borne the burden and heat of the day.’”

To which must be added an extract from the Sixth Address of the Ladies’ Society in Scotland in Aid of the Home Mission of the Presbyterian Church in Ireland: —

“We cannot close this Report without alluding to the loss which our Society has sustained in the removal, by death, of its much-respected Patroness, Lady Colquhoun. To her this Society chiefly owed its origin. In her death, the cause of the Home Mission may be said to have lost, in Scotland, its oldest and most influential friend. Besides defraying the College expenses of one of the converts now training for the ministry (Mr. Kugan), she ever contributed readily with her means to feminine refinement and inherent nobility; and though in later years her complexion had faded and her figure stooped, there came the more brightly forth the reassuring gentleness, the dehcate consideration, and the tact in difiiising happiness, which are among the loveliest attributes of the Christian lady.

The basis of her natural goodness was truth. Even before it was hallowed into “godly sincerity,” her disposition was unusually open and candid; and after she had learned to live in the recollection, — “Thou, God, seest me,” she became studiously exact and scrupulous. It was not only that she forbade her servants to use the fashionable equivocation, “Not at home,” but all her intercourse and correspondence were pervaded by a most rigid adherence to the rule of “Yea, yea, and Nay, nay.” And this elaborate truthfulness re-acted on all her character. It materially promoted her self-knowledge, and contributed to her growth in grace. And the blessed consciousness that she had never wilfully flattered or maligned, enabled her to mingle in all society with a cheerful security and a goodwill as obvious as it

the numerous demands of the Mission in other ways. The want of her generous support and Christian counsel in the. management of this Society will be long and deeply felt,” &c., &c.

T 2 was genuine. Nor was she “afraid of evil tidings. Her heart was fixed, trusting in the Lord.”

The steps by which she was brought to the knowledge of the Saviour, have been traced in the foregoing pages; but, as a brief review of her religious experience, and as an expression of her matured feelings and sentiments very near the close of life, we are sure the reader will peruse with interest the foUovidng letter. It was addressed to a faithful minister in the Highlands, towards the erection of whose church she had previously contributed, and is dated Oct. 28, 1845: —

“My dear Sib, — I know not how to refuse the request made in your letter, which I received a short time since; and yet I am assured nothing but misconception on your part could have induced you to make it. I am to teU you ’ my sentiments and feelings when Jehovah causes the light of his face to shine on me.’ Alas! alas! how rare is this! And I am to say what are my ’ views and feelings when, in chastisement, His face is hid.’ Here, also, I am at fault; for I know little of the heights and depths to which so many of God’s people are subjected. I have been led in green pastures, and beside the still waters. One thing I have learned, and from the

LIFE or LADY COLQIJHOTJN. 277

bottom of my heart I feel it, — my utter nothingness. But do not think my speaking thus is the sign of deep humility. Ah! no. I am sensible you win not think the worse of me for saying so. I fear to write of myself, — I cannot, without sin. I may write, then, of my Saviour; there is a theme upon which I need not dread to enlarge. And I can with truth say, that each step in my journey through life leads me, with more undivided confidence, to rest on Him alone, without reference to anything else but His finished work.

“‘Nothing in my hand I bring.
Simply to thy cross I cling;
Naked, come to thee for dress;
Helpless, look to thee for grace;
Foul, I to the Fountain fly;
Wash me. Saviour! or I die.’

“I have been led very gradually and gently in the divine life. I never knew the pangs of the new birth; and at first had slight views of the depravity of the heart, or of the need of salvation by Christ. These things were more articles of my creed than the conviction of the soul. I believed them chiefly because the Bible told me they were true. But years have supervened, and proof that the heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked has not been awanting; and hence, if saved at all, I now feel it must be by grace through faith. One thing, I beUeve, is rather singular in my experience, — that I was more induced to devote myself to God by the beauty of the Divine character, and the lovely precepts of the Gospel, than by any other consideration. And still, when I can get but a gUmpse of these things in anything like their transcendent glory, my heart is fixed. But I dare not go on in this strain. I am much afraid you will think me very different from what I am. I have wandered from my subject. I was going to write of the Saviour. I think, then, the Apostle Peter is very happy in the expression when he calls him ’ precious.’ What so precious as that which we cannot have a moment’s peace without? What so precious as that in which perfection dwells, — where beauty alone shines? Or, what is of equal value to us with the God-man, who saves us from everlasting perdition, and makes us ‘partakers of His holiness?’ These are commonplace and well-known truths; but we need to be reminded of them; and, ah! how shghtly are they impressed upon the heart 1 Yet still — still we must say, however listlessly and feebly, Christ is precious! Many, I know, say it with more devout affections than I can do. But say so I must and will, as He

HimseK shall enable me. He must take my heart; I cannot give it Him. You, my dear Sir, have a high honour assigned to you in having the everlasting Gospel to preach. Let not your hands hang down; you have a noble cause, a good Master, and assurance, of some measure at least, of success. I believe ministers are often little aware of the effect of their preaching. I knew a man of God, now in his grave, or rather, I should say, now before the throne, (Dr. Buchanan, of the Canongate,) who told me that he had just heard of one who had died in the Lord, and mentioned, on his death-bed, that Dr. B.’s preaching had been the means of his conversion twenty years before; and all that time he was ignorant of the circumstance. When very young. Dr. B. was of great use to myself; but I dared not have told him so for long after. I have now, as far as I know it, and according to my ability, complied with your request. May not I, with equal reason, expect that a word from you will benefit me? But I do not wish to tax yoa. I know the many calls you must have upon your time, and I, too, have sometimes as much vmting as I can well accomphsh.”

The pervading element in her piety was an adoring attachment to this Divine Redeemer. The desire to see his cause trimnphant in the world impelled her efforts in the many Societies of which she was an assiduous member. Regard for his honour prompted all the more important actions of her later life. The hope of introducing others to his transforming friendship made her personally and with the pen, in books and in conversation, in cottage visits and in exalted society, “instant in season and out of season.” And the belief that they belonged to the Saviour endeared to her obscure or imperfect Christians, just as the perception of earnestness in his service drew her regard towards ministers of ordinary gifts, and made her a docile or dehghted listener to sermons which would have been reckoned common-place by hearers more fastidious or less fervent. And closely allied to this was her unusual confidence in prayer. It was one of the sisters at Bethany who said to Jesus, “Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died. But I know, that even now, whatsoever thou wUt ask of God, God will give it thee.” And the subject of this record had a confidence in the Saviour’s grace and power akin to that of Martha, and for a similar reason, — she had a like affection. In everythiag, by prayer and suppHcation, she made known her requests; and her diary abounds in notices of answered prayer.

“Ye are the light of the world.” The believer fulfils his exalted function when, filled with the Divine Spirit, he so acts that in his graciousness men are reminded of the grace of God. “Let it shine,” and “let it so shine that men may see your good works, and glorify your Father in heaven.” The piety of Lady Colquhoun was spontaneous, efiusive, evenly, like a lamp abundantly replenished; and its bright spirituality at once reminded the beholder of its heavenly Source. And we know not that we can better describe what manner of person she was in this respect, than by copying the words of her own minister, and those of her eldest brother.

“It has been my privilege,” says the Rev. NeU Stewart, “to converse with not a few persons of Christian character; but I have not received the same pleasure or benefit from all. In conversing with some, I have felt my affections restrained, my spirits depressed, and a painful feeling of discontent predominating in my mind. But I never left Lady Colquhoun without feeling my affections purified, my heart warmed, and my spirit raised in humble thankfulness to God for his goodness, and in earnest desire to be conformed to his image, and to do all things to his glory. This, I am persuaded, was the restdt of the pecidiar character of her piety, which was alike devoid of that asceticism which contracts the affections, and that enthusiasm which impairs the judgment. Like one of her favourite authors, John Howe, she dwelt with much delight on the character and attributes of God as revealed in the face of Jesus Christ, and by the habitual contemplation of them it seemed as if she were more and more conformed to the same image.”

And to his niece. Sir George Sinclair writes: —” I look back with unfeigned satisfaction on all my personal intercourse with my beloved sister, because I am quite certain that we never exchanged a hasty word, and never harboured towards each other an unkind feeling, even for a single moment. Her piety was entirely free from moroseness or gloom. She was never highly elevated, and never unduly depressed. Though always dignified, her manner was often playful. She did not exact from others a strict and undeviating observance of the rules which she laid down for her own guidance, and though uncompromising as to all principles of grave importance, she was always inclined to the side of lenity and indulgence when she differed from others in matters

of minor moment. You are aware with what enthusiastic strength of zeal and conviction she espoused the interests of the Free Church; and yet she always discussed that very exciting question with me (who had reluctantly, but conscientiously, remained connected with the Established Church) in a spirit of charity and forbearance which is much more frequently enforced than exemplified. On the whole, I have never seen any character so blameless and harmless, and without rebuke; so free from infirmities, and so adorned by virtues. She lived much with her Saviour in prayer, which is the surest resource for being enabled to live like him in daily conversation.”

Thus devoted and thus endowed, it was her blessedness to accompUsh much for that Redeemer whom she loved so ardently and followed so affectionately. In the nearest circle of her kindred, in her own household, amongst her younger and older neighbours, to the poor of other places, to casual visitors, she was the source of incalculable benefits. Irrespective of her munificent contributions and unwearying exertions in the cause of Christian philanthropy, the friends of the Gospel felt a perpetual solace in her presence, and were comforted to think that in the most pohshed society was exhibited such a specimen of pure and consistent piety. Her light shone to the last, and was brightest at the end; and her Father in heaven was glorified.

Like Hannah and Jessie Sinclair, we invite our younger readers to choose “that better part, which shall not be taken from them;” assuring them that, if at the foot of the Cross they lay down some things that are brilliant, they vdll there obtain in return all that is beautiful. When these happy sisters found the Saviour they did not lose their taste for intellectual enjoyments, nor their zeal for personal improvement; but they found a Eriend aU-wise and ever-present, who in scenes of anxiety kept them calm and recollected, and in the midst of flattery preserved them sober-minded; and who, along with the forgiveness of sin, imparted to their character a depth and a delicacy which cannot be derived from courtly rules or the most careful up-bringing. In their parallel history is seen how gracefully with feminine refinement may be combined homely duties and labours of practical beneficence; and it proclaims once more how essential to eminent piety are self-knowledge, watchfulness, and prayer. And surely, in the blessed confidence that through His interposition lives so lovely have been once more united, we have another reason for loving and adoring that Redeemer who has aheady transferred so much of earth to heaven.

They have been brought with gladness great,

And mirth on ev’ry side,
Into the palace of the King,

And there they shall abide.