1855–1857

Of date 1st January 1855, occurs a brief review of the preceding year — a very remarkable document: —

“During 1854 I have not lost an hour from sickness. I have preached 112 sermons, 77 of which were in Regent Square, and 53 of which were new compositions. I have edited volumes i. and ii. of Excelsior, writing 208 pages thereof. The correspondence occasioned by this has been very extensive. I have preserved 161 letters from correspondents connected with the first volume, and 239 letters connected with the second — 400 in all. But the letters written by myself must have been more numerous than the letters written to me. Of letters of all kinds I cannot have written fewer than 2000 during the year. Some correspondences have been rather laborious: as, for instance, those connected with our China Mission, and the arrangement for Mr. Burns’s itinerancies, and that occasioned by our Synod’s overtures towards union with the United Presbyterians. Except in Excelsior, I have printed little. A sermon to the Sunday-School Union, a sermon on the Thanksgiving for Harvest, and a memorial of deceased members of the Evangelical Alliance, are all that I recollect “Committees, Presbyteries, and the Synods have absorbed in the aggregate probably a month of time; but in visits and in talking to visitors I have spent as many hours as, at the rate of twelve hours to the day, would make up two months. The only luxury in which I have attempted to indulge, was the learning of Dutch; but for this I could only find a few hours in all the year. I have often been like to go crazy at the way in which my time is torn to atoms; but there is no help for it. With a congregation to which I am tenderly attached, and for which I would fain do my best, and with subjects on which I would like to wife fully, in the hope of eventually publishing, — past forty, and the days flying so swiftly, I often feel almost maddened at the unprofitable objects on which my hours are wasted. Trudging wearily from house to house, often without any hope of usefulness, but merely to prevent people from feeling overlooked or offended, and sitting four mornings in every week to hear long stories, or attend to matters which a merchant’s clerk could manage far better, do not seem the true end of the Christian ministry. And when all these interruptions are over — when Friday has arrived, without being able to open a book or command a leisure hour since Monday morning, it is difficult to drop at once into the calm and devotional frame which suits with preparation for the pulpit, or even to command the mental energy. I write this at Mrs. Moore’s, where we usually have a fortnight’s retreat at Christmas. I shall try to keep a diary of occupations this year; but, like the Highlander’s barometer, I fear it will have no effect on the weather. 1854 is to be recorded as a year full of the loving-kindness of the Lord. We have had sHght aUments in the family, but no serious illness. Our abode at 48 Euston Square seems to have had a happy effect on my own health; I have gone through more than usual work without injury.”

The subject here is the most precious of all treasures, “My time.” There are two parties, and they deal with it in opposite ways. Himself mounts guard over it, like a miser over his gold, and other people thoughtlessly snatch and squander it, in spite of all his watchfulness. It is most interesting for an onlooker to stand by and watch the conflict. Here and there he almost falls into a cynical vein as he laments the needless waste of the treasure, in compliance with despotic customs; but the tone is immediately relieved by a slight dash of humour. There is room for grave regret that so much of a life that was fitted for great things was frittered away on secondary objects: yet we are persuaded all is not lost that seems lost here. If he had not been a minister, or had ministered in a small and obscure place, it is more than questionable whether all the effort saved on the one side would have been effectually turned to account on the other. Even the great acceleration of mental speed caused by the number and imperious nature of his avocations imparted a glow to his published works, which they might possibly have lacked if he had been possessed of learned leisure such as many dignitaries of the English Church enjoy. The bolts might possibly, in such a case, have been more elongated and more exquisitely polished, but they might have been colder, and consequently less fitted to set on fire the hearts and minds they fell upon.

The Epistles of Paul, on their human side, took their character from the amazing activity of his life. They owe much of their piercing power, instrumentally, to the high pressure under which the writer continually lay. For the mere exposition of scientific truth, it is better that the expositor be a recluse; but writings that have most moved mankind, are writings that have been thrown out at small openings between the tasks of active and overburdened lives.

His complaints are natural, and, in the main, well founded; and yet, if in these matters he had been permitted to carve out his own lot, it is doubtful whether the result would have been more valuable to the Church or the world. The loss of his time, if he had taken it easy, would indeed have been a calamity; but the apparent paradox might, with a large measure of truth, be maintained, that such a man’s time cannot be lost. Even the indignation cherished against the robbers served, like the charge of an air-gun, to increase the impetus of the next working hour. On the whole, although we cannot but lament the annoyances to which he was exposed, it is probable that all would not have proved solid gain if he had been placed beyond their reach.

The next entry, dated on the following day, is intended as a practical justification of the unceremonious expressions which he had applied to the intruders: —

“2d Jan. 1855. — Wrote eight letters. Tramped in from St. John’s Wood to Harrington Square to attend

Mr. ’s Bible meeting, where there were four ministers expounding to six ladies.”

The memorial of deceased members of the Evangelical Alliance, mentioned in the preceding summary, was a precious and much relished contribution to the cause of Christian union. Besides briefer notices of less known brethren, the paper embraces warm-hearted and full-bodied eulogies in memory of three worthies of the first rank who had been called away during the year, — Wardlaw of Glasgow, Gordon of Edinburgh, and Jay of Bath, The sanctified genius of Hamilton was peculiarly fitted to express among the assembled brethren the reverential love which all cherished for the memory of those departed chiefs. The Christian commonwealth has its heroes, and it has also its poets to proclaim their worth. Dr. Hamilton rendered many services to the cause of the Alliance, but none have been more valued and remembered than that glowing and graceful tribute to the faith and holiness of those eminent men.

A letter from a minister in Sweden, regarding the translation of Life in Earnest, will seiTe to link him with the band of earnest Christians who have been raised up to do the work of the Lord in the long frozen North: —

FROM H. J. LUNDBOEG.

“February 15, 1855.

“Dear Friend, — The pleasant surprise of a present in books, with a letter from you, has arrived to me by a sister in the Lord, Froken Therese Eappe. You understand beforehand that it was very welcome to my heart

IVIany thanks I therefore send you, and wish that I may prove thankful to you and other generous Scotch friends yet more in deeds than in words. The Lord give in mercy His blessed grace thereto. If not else I may be enabled, perhaps I myself by my own hand, to forward you a copy of the translation of your Life in Earnest. I hope soon to come over to Scotland, with the Lord’s smile, perhaps next month, and may therefrom at leisure also come to London. Then I shall be glad to personally meet with you, and present you the little copy. Overwhelming ministerial duties have hitherto hindered me to do more than glance a little in the dear books you sent; but H. Bonar’s were beloved old friends, and Pike’s Early Piety and others look very good and interesting indeed. Some days ago I read your Lam’p and the Lantern. Thanks for it, and for your valued friendship in the Lord to me, a very unknown foreigner, but your affectionate friend and brother in Christ,

“H. J. LUNDBORG.”

“March 22d, 1855. — “Was much interested this mornins by the visit of a young American, Gideon Draper, from New York. He had been qualifying himself for a literary life when he read “The Literary Attractions of the Bible.” Till then the Bible was a book of which he knew nothing, but this lecture induced him to read it. The consequence was that he was led to believe in it and love it, and resolved to devote his life to its study and illustration.

1 One of the chapters of T?ie Light to the Path, at first published separately.

HIS mother’s death. 445

Accordingly lie has spent the last eighteen months at Berlin, where Nitzsch appears to have been of the greatest use to him. He is intelligent, and I hope to see more of him.

“Monday, April 2. — In March wrote 165 letters, and six new sermons, besides editing Excelsior. Intending to commence lectures on the Hebrews, — have given a course on the origin and history of sacrifices, and have read a good deal with this design.

“Good Friday, April 6. — On Saturday morning had a letter from Stonehouse, mentioning that on the Wednesday evening, during family worship, our dear mother had been seized with a paralytic stroke. She lingered till yesterday morning, when she passed peacefully away to the ’ saints’ everlasting rest.* Had she been spared ten days longer she would have survived my father twenty years. Last December she completed the threescore and ten.

“Never was there a life of such constant, yet unconscious, self-sacrifice. Her whole existence was spent in taking thought for the comfort and welfare of others; and few mothers or sisters have spent more days and nights in watching over and nursing the sick members of the family. Her affections were wonderfully warm, and it was with bitter anguish that she closed the eyes of my aunt Elizabeth, and then of my oldest sister Elizabeth, next my father, then dear gentle Mary, then her last and like-minded daughter, and soon after that daughter’s only child. But as soon as the burst of sorrow was over, she was ready for a new labour of love; and to the last the well-

446 ETS mother’s character.

spring of her loving-kindness never dried, and the sunshine of her cheerfulness never shaded. The last four years of her life were devoted to my brother William and his two motherless children, and that last evening of health was spent in entertaining a tea-party of the Stonehouse villagers. Very rare was the union as it existed in her of good sense and deep feeling, of frugality and generosity. Her affinity was for superior minds, but such was her kind-heartedness and her dread of hurting others, that she would sit hour after hour listening to the long stories of very uninteresting people, and making them happy by her cordial sympathy. I never knew one with so little malevolence. She seemed sometimes to be provoked at herself because she could not be angry. Though her turn was not literary, she was a great admirer of sublime or beautiful writing; but her book was the Bible.”

Although the present editor enjoyed the privilege of knowing Mrs, Hamilton for many years, he thinks it would be out of place to express here, even in the briefest form, his own view of her life and labours. Where her son has deliberately and carefully written her epitaph, he will not presume to intrude further than to indorse from an outside view-point all that filial affection has testified of her gentle goodness.

“48 EasTOK Square, April 6, 1855.

“My dear Andrew, — When I wrote to you on Wednesday, I little thought that my next letter would be so different. But most likely you have already heard direct from Stonehouse. It seems that dear mamma grew worse on Wednesday, but rallied again in the evening, so that at ten William went to bed. At one the nurse called him. She complained of excessive cold, and hot bottles were brought, which gave no relief. She asked him to pray, and then desired him to speak to her, which he did, repeating texts, till a quarter past two, when she gently passed away. With all its solemnity and tenderness, this is no time for mere sorrow. Never was there a more benignant, self-denying, beautiful life; and now that life hsis expanded into immortality, after a separation of twenty years, all but eleven days, she has rejoined our father, and has found again Elizabeth, and Mary, and Jane, and Jane’s little boy. Her warfare is accomplished, and the days of her mourning are ended. It would seem as if her death had been the resurrection of all my childhood. The old manse, with her active figure gliding up the stair, or tripping along the grass paths of the garden, thirty years ago; readings in the nursery, or talkings to the maids at the spinning wheel on evenings when my father was away from home, and old-world memories that gather round that scene, so sweet and holy, that one feels now like an ‘exile of Eden.’”

“30 Catherine Street, Liverpool,
April 10, 1855.

“My dear Annie, — Yesterday I had for my feUowtravellers Leone Levi, and Mr. M’Clure, of Belfast, the treasurer of the Irish Presbyterian Foreign Mission, — a delightful man. The only drawback was, that it converted into a talk what I intended for a reading journey. To compensate this, however, I must confess that Mr. Levi’s talk is more instructive than some books. Last night there was a large congregation in a lovely chapeL It is a vast amphitheatre, without galleries, and the seats, all lined with crimson cloth, rising tier above tier round the room. Nothing can be more comfortable and cozy.

“Seldom has any one travelled to attend a mother’s funeral with feelings exactly the same as mine; no grief, no bitterness, nothing but the thankful feeling, * He hath done all things well.’ No children ever had a better mother, and none can have a surer hope regarding her who is gone; and the gentle departure which, has closed that beautiful career completes the loving-kindness of the Lord.”

“Stonehouse, April 11, 1855.

“My deakest Annie, — ... It was after midnight when I passed through Stonehouse, and my meditations were rather mournful. The habits of the people here are very late. In many houses the lights were still burning. At the manse I found William, and Andrew, and Jane Proudfoot sitting up for me. When I had gone up to bed, Andrew came to my room and invited me to go in and see mamma. She lay in her coffin, the most wonderful sight I ever saw, her features as full and firm, her complexion as fresh and with a hue as ruddy as in the highest health, and a calm reposing expression. It was quite beautiful. And yet it was very solemn there, in that cold and windy room with candle-light, between one and two in the morning, and all the past rushed back, far more vividly than if there had been a greater change.”

“Stonehouse, April 12, 1855.

“My dearest Annie, — We have just returned from following to their resting-place the dear remains. It would seem that, in the wanderings of her last days, her thoughts were all of her early years, the bright scenes of her girlhood; and it looked as if the happy remembrance had given a younger as well as gladder expression to her countenance. Certainly I have seldom seen it so placid and free of care as when I took my last look of it this morning. She had given Andrew what had been her church Bible fifty years ago, in two red morocco silverclasped volumes, with a good deal of her pencil-writing in them. Poor Andrew, his grief is more bitter than ours. He feels that his earthly sheet-anchor is gone. It was veiy affecting at her funeral to-day, carrying her unconscious form over the gravel path and out at the green gate which had been familiar with her presence so long. Nearly a hundred of the villagers attended, all anxious to have their turn in carrying the coffin a little way.”

In common with all ministers in gi’eat cities, he experienced the difficulty of obtaining personal access to those members of the flock, young men, for the most part, who were closely occupied during the day, and had no family home in London. By aid of zealous elders and deacons this difficulty was in some measure surmounted. From a correspondence in 1855 between Dr. Hamilton and Mr. A. Wark, at that time a deacon, I learn the method adopted. The deacon intimates to the minister that he finds the superintendence in his district defective, and suggests that

2f a meeting of all might be attained in the evening if he could undertake to attend and preside. The minister cordially consents, thankful for the opportunity. A circular is prepared and distributed; the meeting is convened. To the great delight of both parties, the evening is spent partly in friendly recognitions and conversations, partly in counsels and prayers. The process is repeated at intervals in the same district, and spreads into others.

It was at one of those city meetings, held in the district of Mr. Gillespie, that the much appreciated published sermon on “Thankfulness” originated. In the course of some calls made by the minister and elder in company during the day, Mr. Gillespie mentioned the passage regarding thankfulness in Isaak Walton, and showed it to him when he reached home in the evening. The address for that time was founded upon it, and that address soon expanded into the discourse, preached on a public occasion in the north of England, and afterwards published as a tract.

The talents of the minister were peculiarly adapted for this class of the community, and for turning to the best account any such easy interview.^

“May 1855. — On Monday, May 21, 1 left Dudley, where

1 In my own experience I have met the same difficulty, and partially overcome it in the same way. Young men dissociated from families in great mercantile cities are precisely the class who at once most need the visit of a minister, and are most apt to be overlooked. When I attempted to reach them in the ordinary way, I experienced one difficulty first in finding them out, and then another in finding them in. If the district enjoys the services of a deacon or elder who has some love in his heart and some faculty of organization in his head, the object will be obtained. A circular, a meeting place, either in a private house or a public room, a cup of tea with a slice of breadthere is your opportunity; it is your own fault if you do not occupy it.

I had been preaching on the previous Sabbath, at eleven o’clock. I took my place in a second-class carriage, the last of the train; two other men were in it. We had not gone many hundred yards from the station, and were passing under a bridge, when in an instant there was a violent shock, and all was outcry and confusion. One of the men beside me struck his head against the wooden partition, and howled out most hideously; the other, whose knee was sadly crushed, was pitched over from the opposite angle to where I was; my hat was knocked off, but I picked it up, and found myself quite uninjured. The incident was for a moment very terrible. The usual noise of a train in motion instantly converted into a crash, and that crash as instantly succeeded by a sort of silence — the clack and whizz of the wheels and engine arrested only to make audible the shrieks and groans of the passengers. On opening the carriage door it was terrible to see so many people with cut cheeks and brows, one poor man with his face covered with a veil of blood, and fainting ladies, and all the uncertainty as to the extent of the disaster. However, it proved that no one was fatally injured, though few had escaped without a cut or a bruise, and some, I believe, had broken bones. We had run into another train, the two engines coming tilt at one another, but neither was at full speed — a merciful and memorable Providence, to which was owing the preservation of many lives. I was reading the life of Joseph Hardcastle, in Morrison’s Fathers and Founders of the Missionary Society, borrowed from his daughter, Mrs. Haldane. I was reading at page 391 — a letter wiitten to Mrs. Hardcastle when away from home, and had got to the following sentence: — * It is however necessary, though painful, to reflect that a separation will, at no very distant date, take place, in which there admits no hope or possibility of ever again associating in the present life. How solitary and mournful will the remainder of existence be to the sorrowing survivor! how dreary the journey which must be travelled alone!’ In the panic of the crash, which took place at this word, I had just time to think that perhaps the journey was ended. But it has been otherwise ordered. May the interval be spent in doing what will make the pang less bitter when it comes, and the memories afterwards still sweeter and more sacred.”

“Littlehampton, Sept. 2. — Weary, weary, weary! After ninety-six Sabbaths of preaching, last Sabbath was the first day of rest I have had for nearly two years. The vital powers seem low, and even in my briskest movements there is a latent languor of which I am only too conscious. The difficulty is to get a little relaxation. This is a charming place, and our kind friend, Mr. Anderson, has taken us delightful trips to Arundel, etc., but loads of letters, college examinations, and such tilings often make it late in the day before I can get any good of the open air. Had a most kind message from the elders, urging me to get a month’s supply for the pulpit, so as to get a thorough renovation.”

The next letter, from a very eminent minister in New Fork, since deceased, lifts again a corner of the veil, and gives us another glimpse of the real securities for peace between Great Britain and America: —

FROM DR. JAMES W. ALEXANDER.

“New York, Nov. 19, 1855.

“Rev. and dear Sir, — ... Often have I recalled the home which, as a stranger, I enjoyed in your company in 1851; and often have I wished I could see you in my home and pulpit here. Late events have made my heart tremble for the ark of peace; and this feeling has coloured both my preaching and public utterances in prayer. The dread of war between our respective countries has, however, been much more lively with you than with us; to a degree which has caused nothing worse than a smile in most companies with which I am conversant. It is wonderful how much of the froth and foam is floated over to you in the shape of newspaper extravagance. I protest to you, on the word of a Christian, that, living as I do in our greatest town, I have never met with a human being who did not look on war with Great Britain as horrible. At the same time, I am not prepared to aver that there are not those who would (like Catiline’s fellows) seem to gain by outbreaks. By comparing your own public journals with those of the Continent, you will be able to conceive how the burst of a gazetteer in a hasty leader might come erroneously to be taken for the popular acclamation. And our newspapers are more reckless and licentious than yours. There is a profound and almost universal feeling, among thoughtful and religious people, of a common interest with our brethren in England, as having a community of blood, language, and faith. Demagogues and ambitious plotters might involve us, but our hope is in God. And, in my humble judgment, the sanctuaries of both countries ought to be filled with supplications conlerning this matter to the God of peace....

“I am older and graver than when we met. My honoured father and my beloved mother have since fallen asleep. My own health last autumn was impaired to the degree of imminent danger. For some months, however, I have been in full service, in a very large congregation, and with responsibilities which I need not describe to you.

“May we, through grace, fight the good fight, and lay hold on eternal life! My poor prayers shall be for you and yours. — I am, dear Sir, your friend and fellow- servant,

James W. Alexander.

“No. 30 West Eighteenth Street.”

FKOM MR. PETER BAYNE.

“4 NicoLsoN Street, Edinburgh,
January 11, 1855.

“Rev. DEAR Sir, — Permit me to offer for your acceptance the accompanying volume. I cannot but feel that there is a certain specialty in sending you a book which attempts Christian biography; and if I made out a list of those to whom I am more particularly indebted for assistance, you should certainly occupy a high place; your paper on ‘Simeon and his contemporaries’ (or predecessors, as I think it was) formed an epoch in my life....

“I am a student of divinity in connexion with the Free

Church, this being my fourth session. I have had opportunities of marking the influence of Carlylian infidelity on young minds, and have seen one or two of the noblest, and perhaps ablest young men I have ever known turned from the plain old path thereby. This, together with a desire to do in Christian biography what has been done in the biography of natural religionists, put me on the track of thought which issued in Christian Life. This is nearly what I state in the preface; there, however, referring mainly to the ideas, and here to their occasion. I sincerely say that, had your essays been republished from the North British Review, one great inducement to the composition of my volume had been withdrawn, Peter Bayne.”

Although Dr. Hamilton’s literary life has scarcely passed its meridian, the harvest has for some time been begun. From time to time indications appear in various quarters that the seed sown by his hand has been fruitful. Whatever weeping he may have experienced in the seed-time, he may now bear home his sheaves rejoicing. His religious biographies stimulated and directed a thoughtful student in the University of Edinburgh; the result was, a volume on the Christian life, in its concrete forms, which has been largely read, and highly valued. This book was itself the first-fruits of an original and suggestive mind, and the commencement of an active literary life.

“London, Jan. 10, 1656.” My dear William, — ... Since you were here, we have hardly spent an evening at home. Usually, our visits

456 “GENTLE AND EASY TO BE ENTREATED.”

are to good, matter-of-fact friends. Sometimes they are to places where people come whom you are glad to see. Last night I dined with Murray of Albemarle Street, and every guest was a notable — Professor Owen, ElHs (the Polynesian), Selwyn (editor of the Quarterly), Sir John M’Neill, and a surgeon of General Williams’s staff, who has just arrived from Kars. Last week, too, at Mr. jMellors, we encountered a number of legal celebrities, and if there were time to note all the curious anecdotes and good sayings of such seasons they would make an interesting miscellany.

“Mudie, the librarian, was kind enough to make me a present of Macaulay, the morning of publication; but I only began it yesterday. A review of Harris’s ‘Patriarchy, for the Eclectic, will snap up to-day and to-morrow, which would otherwise have been free, as I have only one sermon to prepare. On Sabbath evening I have to preach in Exeter Hall.”

“Birkenhead, A-prilll, 1856.

“Mt dearest Annie, — Much was I delighted with your warm, wifely letter. It came in yesterday morning, and I read it, reserving others for to-day. You greatly overrate my powers of pleasing, and in some respects my disposition. On the whole, I hope I have a certain fund of kindliness, and I suffer exquisitely from giving pain. Things I say in the way of finding fault, or which escape in the course of an animated debate, often give more distress to myself than to their objects. But I frequently reproach myself for not making more vigorous efforts to diffuse happiness. My literary propensities are here the great antagonists. With a love of books and a thirst for information sometimes approaching frenzy, I get so little done in the way of reading and learning that what I do in that way seems selfish. No minister in all my acquaint-. ance has the same amount of miscellaneous work, business, correspondence, church affairs, civihties to strangers, foreigners, aristocratic (?) acquaintances — by the time it is despatched I have only a day or two in the week for sermons, pastoral visits, self-improving study, etc. Were it not for this, I flatter myself I would be so amiable! You must make up for my lack.

“My host is a man of great evenliness and sweetness of spirit. We had a very pleasant Sabbath. On Saturday I felt a tendency to cold; to-day I am delightfully well. — In much haste, your ever affectionate husband,

“J. Hamilton.”

I have often admired, when I had occasion to be living with him in his house for a few days, the facility and cheerfulness with which he submitted to interruptions, when he was engaged with his own severer work. He is sitting in his chair, with a miniature jointed desk attached to its arm, drawing from his brain the threads of thought, and tracing them quickly with his little crow qniU, when a rap is heard at the door, and a stranger is introduced — a Presbyterian minister, or a general philanthropist from America. Forthwith the conversation begins. How it goes with slavery in the south. Do Yale and Princeton thrive? How do latitude, soil, and sea air affect the cotton crop in quantity or quality? He is immediately at home, and makes the stranger at home too. The conversation in due time draws to a close, and the visitor retires with a heart perhaps a shade happier and more hopeful The student flings himself down again on his chair with some quaint remark, at which he laughs heartily himself, and by which he shakes the sides of the friend who may be sitting at work in another corner. In another moment the bisr brow is knitting itself, folding and unfolding its long deep furrows. The end of the broken thread is caught, the crow quill is again in motion, and the stream is flowing at once rapidly and smoothly. In a few minutes another rap resounds through the house; and if you happen to be looking in the right direction you will observe a twitch of vexation flitting across his face. It is but a momentary emotion however; ere the new visitor is announced he is on his feet, springing across the room to meet him. In this case it is a man from the city whom he slightly knows, gathering up votes and items of influence with the view of placing an orphan in a certain hospital. Dr. Hamilton’s word in such a case will go far with this and that other large contributor, and his recommendation will procure several votes. The case is good, and two or three notes are quickly written. The philanthropist departs with hurried and warm expressions of thankfulness; and the student betakes himself to the task of finding and knitting his broken thread again.

Thus the wheel goes round; for even at his busy time he was not apt to retire or hide himself. His power of recovering the thought after an interruption, and of bearing the interruption without a symptom of irritation, was much observed and admired by his friends. This faculty, however, was not a power that came of its own accord. The act as exercised by him seemed easy, as the tripping of a musician’s fingers over the keys of an instrument seems easy, hardly requiring an exercise of the thought or will at all, but in both cases the facility has been acquired by much honest labour. In Dr. Hamilton’s character two principles, in some respects antagonistic, combined to produce the result. By judgment and habit he set a very high value on time for the accomplishment of life’s great work, and a high value also on cheerful affability manifested toward all, as an effective practical recommendation of the gospel. Between these two he was sometimes very hard pressed. And, alas! even when he overcame the thfficulty, and gave each its due, the effort overstrained his powers and undermined his health.

It has been said that to look on near objects as they flit past from the window of a railway carriage injures the sight, by compelling the eyes to adjust themselves to different objects in too rapid succession. In a similar way, although he succeeded in quickly adjusting the focus of mental vision to the interrupted train of thought, the exertion, frequently repeated, was fitted to wear out the faculties, and induce premature decay. The sacrifice of life to duty is not perhaps so rare as the readers of herohistory might be disposed to think.

460” CAST DOWN, BUT NOT DESTROYED.’

“10 Cornfield Terrace, Eastbourne,
August 13, 1856.

“The elasticity which God has given to the human mind is great. The last fortnight has been deeply clouded by the death of C. M. Charles, poor Helen’s early widowhood, and many lesser sorrows connected with that greater one. I have not been without anxieties connected with tht congregation. Our children have hooping-cough, and after every precaution to keep her insulated, I fear poor little Christina has taken it, and the last nights have been very wretched. But sleepy, heart- stricken, labour- wasted as I am, and full of sympathy for my weak and over-toiled wife, something keeps my spirits up. Doubtless, mercies superabound. The bii-th of this little daughter and her mother’s restoration; the hopeful convalescence of the three elder ones; the kindness of Lady Pirie, the dear Watsons, and other friends; this sweet place; the pleasures of hope; the over- canopying brightness of the new covenant; and the knowledge that there is ‘a better country.’”

TO MR. WATSON.

“Eastbourne, Sept. 4, 1856.” A series of sixpenny booklings might be got together by a little contrivance and correspondence — 12 numbers. Could not Gosse do it? He has many friends, and is a new name in Berners Street. My own desire is to keep every hour of leisure for the next four years!! sacred for this great work on the Bible. It will need it all, and deserves a great deal more. I am often much excited about it, sometimes quite appalled. The only intermediate work

I have to get out of hand is The Great Biography. I have corrected and got ready so much of it. This time I think it will be better to merge the lecture and divide into sections like a book.”

The ruling passion again! Eager to despatch the work in hand, not now for its own sake, but in order to clear the way for a greater that loomed beyond it.

We regret that there is not room in this record for fuller notices of the mission to China.^ For three years William Bums was in the field alone. In 1 850 a medical missionary. Dr. Young, joined him. After a course of great usefulness, Dr. Young died in 1855. In 1853 Mr. James Johnston, a licentiate of the English Church, was appointed; but after a trial of two years, he was obliged to return on account of his health, and has long occupied an important post in Glasgow. In 1855 Mr. Carstairs Douglas, a licentiate of the Free Church, was ordained at Glasgow for the mission work in China, and has from that day till now consecrated

1 There is, however, the less reason for regret on this account, that a Memoir of William Bums, necessarily containing some history of the Mission, will issue about the same time from the press of the same publishers. Subjoined is a register of the Mission from its commencement till the death oi Dr. Hamilton: —

Kev. W. C. BcRSs, ordained at SnnderlnEd, April 22, 1847, Airived Not. 16, 1847, At Njcwchwavs.

Jamks H. Youko, H.D., Edinburgh, appointed 1S30, died loth February 1833.

Rev. James JoHjisTOif, ordained at Manchester, April 26, 1833, returned invalided September 1855.

„ Cahstairs Docglas, „ Glasgow. Feb. 21, 1855, Arrived July 1855, At Amoy.

„ David Samdejia», „ Llveniool, April 26, 1S56, „ Dec. 1856, died 31st July 1S5&

„ George Smith, „ Aberdeen, June 8. 1857, „ Nov. 1857, At Swatow. „ W. a SWANBON, „ London, April 22, 1859, „ July 2, 1860, „ Home.

„ HoR L. Mackenzie, „ London, Jan. 6, 1860, „ July 2, 1880, „ Swatow.

„ HuoH CowiE, sailed from London, July 1882, „ Deo. 1862, „ A hot,

„ WiLUAM Gacld, M.D., „ May 1, 1863, „ Sept. 18, 1863, „ Swatow. „ J. I* Maxwell, M.D., „ July 1863, „ Dec. 1863, „ Formosa.

•Eev. Wm. M’Gregor, ordained at Aberdeen, May 16, 18C4, „ Oct 1864, „ Amoy.

Rev. David Massoh, ,, Loudon, June 20, 1866, „ Washed overboard and drowned

E«v. HuoH EiTcaiE, „ London, June 17, 1867. [Nov. 10, 1866.

Sent out and supported by the Association in Scotland. Dr. Carnegie has charge of the Ho:spital at Ainoy.

high talents and character with singular simplicity and steadfastness to the work of the Lord in that heathen land. Mr. Douglas is now the senior member of the mission, and is eminently qualified by learning, acuteness, and judicial calmness, either for conducting the work on the spot, or representing it, when necessary, before the Church and the world.

David Sandeman, the next missionary appointed, has, through his family connexion, his youth, his apostolic devotion, and the shortness of his course, attracted in an extraordinary measure the sympathetic regard of all who love the cause of missions in the land. Possessing by the favour of the King all the talents, he laid them out without reserve in the King’s service. A pleasant glimpse of his bearing on the eve of departure for the mission-field is given in a letter from Dr. Hamilton to Mrs. George Barbour, his sister. Mrs. Barbour was in a peculiar manner attached to this mission from the first. She deeply appreciated the ministry of William Burns while he remained at home; and after he was permanently settled in China, she contributed, through Dr. Hamilton, to the Messenger a most valuable series of papers, under the title “A Hearer’s Notes of Discourses by William Burns.” Accordingly, it is in a strain of the most affectionate esteem and regard that Dr. Hamilton addresses her on the occasion of her brother’s visit to him in London, preparatory to his voyage.

Mr. Barbour has all along borne the burden or enjoyed the privilege (for both are true) of ministering to the mission, — in taking charge of its affairs in Scotland.

FROM DR. HAMILTON.

“London, Oct. 9, 1856.” My dear Mrs. Barbour, — Owing to ray absence from town there has not yet appeared a very important letter written by IIr. Douglas in May, giving an account of the ordination of Chinese elders. Your brother’s visit (much shortened, however, by frequent expeditions elsewhere) was a great treat to us. It is six years since any one passed from under our roof so completely carrying with him the heart of every inmate. So manly, so noble, and assuring, every feature radiant with kindness, and every movement instinct with grace and goodness, he had all the happiness of one who was taking a right step, and who knew that the Lord was with him. To look at him, and think of the sacrifice he was making, was enough to bring the tears into the eyes of others; but amidst all his self-consecration there was on his own part no consciousness of sacrifice, and many a cheerful sally as well as his whole bright demeanour betokened the peace within. The night he went away, he went up to the nursery and kissed baby in the cradle (for whom he has left a beautiful Bible, to be given her when old enough), and went down to the kitchen and spoke to the servants, and gave each of them a book; and now, like ourselves, they feel that, ever since he left, something very good and holy has passed away. My wife and I now understand what it must have been to his mother and yourselves to part with such a son and brother. But I doubt not the blessing will be proportional. I trust he is to turn many to righteousness, and will shine as a star in the firmament. We were much concerned to hear that you were suffering so much when Mr. Barbour came away. Mrs. Hamilton sends her warmest regards, and I remain, dear Mrs. Barbour, most truly yours,

“James Hamilton.”

Dr. Hamilton presided over the Foreign Missions Committee till his death. “As Convener “^ the ‘To reign Missions Committee of the English Presbyterian Church, he cast the halo of his genius and the glow of his warm loving nature round their Mission to China; and the popularity of his much honoured name has given it a publicity far beyond the limits of the denomination he distinguished by his ministry. His ardent character infused energy into the foreign enterprise of a Church apt to be absorbed by its struggle with difficulties at home; and the fervour of his piety diffused itself through all the operations of the society over which he presided.”

“Stockport, Oct. 13, 1856. 10 a.m.

“My deaeest Annie, — I got safely and comfortably here before eleven on Saturday. Mr. Wilkinson met me at the train. He is a cozy bachelor, with a nice house; grand piano, on which he plays splendidly, and everything d la mode. Yesterday, nearly 4000 children were mustered in their mighty school-room, to whom I made an address; and I preached in the same place in the evening, amidst a tempest of music from organ, bassoons, kettle-drums, and hundreds of choristers. However, I confess it was remarkably good music.”

“London, Oct. 17, 1856. “My dear William, — ... Last Sabbath I preached for the Sunday schools at Stockport, and had all the organs, kettle-drums, etc., of which Dr. Chalmers gives such a comical account. But I am in no mood to quiz them. In some respects it is the noblest institution of the kind in all the empire. In the morning I addressed 4000 children; in the evening a vast congregation of grown-up people. The collection was £209. My old fellow-student Tait is now Bishop of London. There could hardly have been a better appointment. I wrote him a few lines of congratulation, and had a very hearty answer.”

The letter from Dr. Tait, which seems to have been written after he was nominated to the Bishopric of London, but before his consecration, is simple, frank, and brotherly. It is honourable to both, and ought to find a place in this record: —

FEOM THE DEAN OF CARLISLE.

‘« Oct. 15, 1856.

“My deae Mr. Hamilton, — Let me thank you for your very kind letter. The sad events which have befallen Mrs. Tait and myself during the last six months make the thoughts connected with this unexpected change in our prospects doubly solemn. It is a great satisfaction to me to believe that I have the hearty prayers as well as the good wishes of many kind friends, and I assure you that I greatly feel your kindness.

“Many changes have taken place since our Glasgow days, yet how short the time appears since we were there! A strong motive, in this shortness of life, to work while it

2 G

466 FRUITS FEOM “LIFE IN EARNEST.

is day. I hope we may soon meet. — Believe me to be, my dear Mr. Hamilton, ever yours sincerely,

A. C. Tait.”

One of those men whom Life in Earnest caught as with a hook in the jaws, and convicted of wasting precious talents, writes to him as follows: —

“Oct. 24, 1856.

“Reverend Sir, — To one whose life has, alas! been very much misspent, the accidental perusal of your excellent book, entitled Life in Earnest, has caused a great revulsion of feeling. It has suddenly, as it were, conjured up around me ten thousand ghosts of neglected opportunities; it says ’ redeem the morning of time; ’ but with me, alas! the morning has passed away, and the day itself is far spent, and, like a wearied traveller on a mistaken road, I have at length, in this book, found a guide-post that tells me my journey has been in vain!

“In other words, the reading of those beautiful lectures, with their fervent and glowing language, deep and profound reasoning, heart-searching appeals, and powerful illustrations, has awakened me to the stern, but deeply humiliating truth, that an existence of upwards of thirty years on this earth has been altogether unproductive, and worse than useless.

“I am a poor and comparatively uneducated artisan, and I should rejoice exceedingly to avail myself of any kind counsel and advice which one so eminently qualified as yourself may at any time be pleased to give me, whereby I might be enabled to devote many of those ’ leavings of days and remnants of hours’ which have hitherto been “EXCELSIOR” FINISHED. 467

triflingly, and therefore uselessly, employed, to better and nobler objects. I rely upon your kindness and condescension to pardon my presumption in thus intruding upon your attention; and beg to remain, with the deepest admiration and respect for all those exalted talents and graces which adorn your truly Christian character, your most humble and obedient servant, G, A. B — .

“No. 3 Field St., Bagnigge Wells Road.”

A touching note from Lady Verney reveals at once her strong faith in God, and the confidence with which she could open her heart to Dr. Hamilton, as a minister of the Gospel and a fellow-disciple of Christ: —

“Claydon, Oct. 27, 1856.

“My dear Dr. Hamilton, — The black edge will tell you of our sorrow, but it is a poor emblem of the glory which illuminated our precious child’s last moments. I used sometimes to think a sorrow was come which even God could not heal; but He has given a balm which I could never have dared to ask or hope for, and I am not crushed. — Believe me, yours very truly,

“Eliza Verney.”

“November 28, 1856. — This week I sent the last mss. of Excelsior to press. It has been very little of a taskrather a pleasant companion, and a very acceptable source of income during these three years. I feel it a great mercy that never once has the publication of a number (and there have been thirty-six) been delayed by illness or any other cause. Of its 2700 pages, I have written 483, or more than a sixth. The chief labour has been

468 “EXCELSIOR” COEEESPONDENCE.

correcting and condensing the contributions of some of our less practised authors, and corresponding with all and sundries. Of letters received I have preserved up to this date 992, and I have written more than that number,

“I now stand committed to a new undertaldng, which I believe I shall enjoy very much — Our Christian Classics. It must appear on January 1st, but not one word is yet M-itten.”

Excelsior, a monthly magazine that started with the express intention of closing at the end of three years, and that kept its word, was now finished. It constitutes six beautiful little volumes, full of miscellaneous information, and besprinkled with exquisite pictorial illustrations. The thousand letters received in connexion with this work are bound in one neat volume, and labelled “Excelsior” in gold letters on the back. They constitute a cabinet of curiosities. It would be a very suitable book for lending to any gentleman who might be ambitious to become an editor. In particular, he seems to have had much trouble with an American story that, like a wounded snake, dragged its slow length along through many numbers of the magazine. The story was not destitute of merit, but the readers in some cases were destitute of patience, and the editor was dunned by requests, expressed sometimes with more energy than suavity, to cut the matter short. Calmly he held on his way, profiting by hints from every quarter, never losing his temper, and never slackening his effort until his task was done.

The work that succeeded it, announced in the close of the letter, is totally different in character. It consists “OUll CHRISTIAN CLASSICS.” 469

of specimens of religious writers in the English tongue, from the earliest times till the close of the eighteenth century, with notices, sometimes brief, sometimes veryfull, of the writers, their circumstances, and their times. Our Christian Classics is a work fitted to fill a very important place in English literature for a long time to come. It was a well-timed publication. In this age comparatively few can possess the works of those worthies in bulk, and fewer could devote the time and attention necessary for a profitable perusal of such a mass. It was necessary that a competent judge should make selections and introduce the authors. This has been done by a master’s hand, and it will probably be long ere his work be antiquated.

“London, Dec. 25, 1856. “My dear William, — ... By a letter from Claydon yesterday we find that Lady Verney is dying. She was at our November communion, and spent the interval with us, full of the happy death of her eldest daughter, who has only preceded her to heaven by two months. I have hardly ever known so much ability in a lady, yet thoroughly simple, feminine, and deeply pious.”

FROM SIR HARRY VERNEY.

“WooDHALL Park, Ware, Jan. 31, 1857.

“My dear Dr. Hamilton, — I know that you will pardon the long delay which has intervened since you wrote to me on the 6th. Few can understand better than yourseK how deep is the affliction that has fallen upon me, for you are one of those who could appreciate the remarkable and varied excellencies of her whom I have lost. If she was a delightful companion to her friends — a warm and able advocate of the cause that she believed to be right — a faithful and yet compassionate reprover of sin — a sympathizing friend of the distressed — a wise mistress to servants and dependants — a judicious and affectionate mother, what must she have been to her husband? Suffice it to say, that she was a tower of strength and safety on which I leaned for twenty years and a haK of happy married life, and that it has been the will of God to strike down this support, in order that I should lean upon Him alone. You knew her well enough to be aware that that is what she did. After our beloved daughter’s death she wrote to an intimate friend, — ‘I am unequal to the commonplaces of life, but alone with my Bible and my Saviour I enjoy perfect peace;’ and in one of our last conversations, while she was in severe bodily suffering, and when her delicate and sensitive brain was beginning to be affected, she said to me, — ‘What would it be if I had now to recollect any works of my own, or anything belonging to myseK or others, I cannot even think, but I can rest firmly on the Rock and be at peace.’ I expect about ten days hence to be settled in London, in a small house that I have taken for my daughter and myself, 22 Eutland Gate, Hyde Park. She is something like her mother. I shall venture to take her to Euston Square some day, to introduce her to Mrs. Hamilton. Thanking you, my dear Dr. Hamilton, for your very kind recollection of me, and for your assurance of sympathy and condolence, T am, your very faithful and obliged, Haery Verney.”

DR. Hamilton’s sermons. 471

Here occur two lively and characteristic letters — date of the first uncertain — from a Wesleyan minister, distinguished by his talents as well as by his name, the late Rev. “William Bunting. Besides the objective interest of the subjects with which the letters deal, there is great subjective interest in observing the contact of two such minds in private, familiar, affectionate correspondence.

Incidentally, it appears from the second letter that the question of sacred songs for use in public worship had, at that date, already deeply engaged Dr. Hamilton’s attention. Both his heart and his judgment are in this work. He laboured patiently in this cause amongst many difficulties, and was found still labouring in it when he was called hence.

*’ HiGHGATE Rise, Dec. 30.

“My dear Feiend, — Mr. West, according to his and other people’s wont in exigencies of this kind, asks me first to direct the enclosed note, and then to accompany it by a little impertinence of my own. Your direction I do not know, and therefore trouble Mr. Nisbet. In my own urgency I have no faith, and therefore forbear to put it forth. All I will say is, that were I the fabricator and proprietor of a little library of MS. sermons such as yours, I should pray for life and leave (out of my own pulpit, if not in it) to preach each of them at least six times over. My lips would ’ rejoice’ in the very utterance of my own mind, and my ear, like the harper’s, lean enamoured on my instrument. If you wish, then, to renew your enjoyment, as well as to extend your usefulness (in God’s own chosen and incomparable way of preaching), unchain and liberate your gospel from yonder palatial court-yard in Regent Square, and let it fly in the midst of lieaveu, alighting, if you please, on our beautiful temple at Liverpool about the time of the Passover.

“I am, was, and am likely to be, and my wife the same, yours, Mrs. Hamilton’s, and your dear old mother’s, ever affectionately, W. M. Bunting.”

“March 16, 1857.

“Ever since Mr. Chalmers first mentioned to me the project of an enlarged supplement to your psalms, I have felt a deep interest in its success. I don’t believe you yourselves (in consequence of venerable habits and prejudices) are yet fully alive to the necessity and blessedness of such a provision for your much-awakened congregations, as a vehicle of Evangelical ‘confession with the mouth unto salvation,’ and as in response to such roch-smiting ministrations as yours of yesterday morning. I could have loved to point out to you, before it was too late, a few of Charles Wesley’s, nor of his alone, of the tender, penitential, petitionary, or promise-claiming, or Christ-embracing and exalting character I have in view.

“These uninvited hints and utterances — a sort oi umbrae at your study table — may bore, but I can scarcely think will offend you. I hope they come of a sincere care for ’ souls ’ (welcome poor Maurice’s sarcasm and reproach), from daily and intimately communing with them up and down the country, and as much out of Methodism as within it, and from some emphatic experience of the blessing brought to afflicted or awakened souls by a judicious administration of God’s precious ordinance of psalm-singing.

“I have left less room that I could have liked to thank you for Excelsior, and to express my regret, on almost every ground, that we are to have no more of it. I have heard it praised, sometimes before I have praised it myself, extensively among our people; and I have found no book, serial or otherwise, more handy or more useful for presentation to young friends of my own. Your own pulpit-contributions to it were, of course, always paramount in interest to us — pleasant as was th6 science, and truly eclectic the poetry.

“For Richard Williams, above all, I feel as if I never can appropriately thank you in time, but hope to glorify God in you and in him after a heavenly manner; and with a fervour more purely pious and adoring, if I should be permitted to meet you both in the better land. At present I cannot subdue a feeling of disappointment and pain (which I have expressed in many companies), that the Christian, and even the Wesleyan, public (as far as I can gather from curt reviews and from a flagging circulation) should have been so inadequately affected by that wonderful unfolding of the Holy Spirit’s wisdom, graciousness, and energy, in the experience of a recent convert, literally ‘beside himself unto God;’ and by, secondly, that beautiful example, considering the country, connexions, and creed, of the biographer (I tnean so different from those of the mystical English Methodist) of a truthful, tender, reverential, catholic, and wise spirit in dealing with these marvels of His grace. As uniting deep pathos with profound instruction in the things of God, I have placed Richard Williams along with Hewitson and the

Convict Ship, in the inner shrine of my heart. My father has much the same feeling of the rare value of that book,

“W.M. Bunting.”

FEOM AMOS LAURENCE.

“Boston, United States, April 4, 1857. “Rev. and dear Sir, — Your last year’s lecture before the Young Men’s Christian Association, entitled ‘Literary Attractions of the Bible,’ was handed over by me to the Rev. Seth Bliss, agent in this city for the American Tract Society, and through his kind attention the tract was republished, and is circulating through the length and breadth of our whole country, and is doing more, I think, to make the Bible common reading than anything lately published. Mr. Bliss visits Europe at this season, partly to recruit his health, and partly to impart information and obtain information of value to us all. May I ask for him your confidence, and thus make me your debtor still deeper than at present, Amos Laurence.”

FROM PAULINE WESLLAHL, A SWEDISH LADY.

“Birmingham, May 30, 1857.” My DEAR Sir, — Availing myself of your kind allowance, I feel most happy to take up my pen to ask you not only ’ one important’ question, but another and still another, till I am afraid their number will increase just in proportion to my confidence. When leaving my own dear country for another, of which the literature in general, and its sacred in particular, has become most dear to myself, I felt delighted in the prospect of meeting with CHRISTIAN LITERATURE FOR SWEDEN. 475

an author to whom I felt especially indebted; yet it was not only to gratify my own feelings, but still more for the benefit of my countrymen, that I ventured to intrude on his most precious time by calling and asking for his opinion as to the choice of religious writings most suitable to be introduced to the educated among them. Now, my dear sir, considering that question to be partly answered by The Lamp and the Lantern (for the translation of which I am just preparing), I next venture to ask for your highly- valued advice as to that plan of mine already hinted, to presenting to the ’ nobles’ and ’ high cultivated’ some substantial object to be considered in the very light of that Lamp, viz., short biographies of celebrated individuals, eminent not only for piety, but for uniting to it science, talent, and taste. Nothing, I am sure, can be more seriously wanted, where there is plenty of good work going on for the spiritual benefit of the people, but very little is found, indeed, to attract that ’ nobility ’ and those ’ high cultivated,’ whose views in the light of the Bible are really most poor and wretched, and spiritually wanting. Having been myself brought up among them, I am able, I daresay, to judge of their state as a most pitiful one; and by the grace of the Lord my heart is burning within me to give to them just what they were not able to give to me!...”

“48 EcsTON Square, Dec. 1, 1857.

“My deak William, — ... On Sat.irday I went down to Wigan to re-open our church there, and got through such a jolly lot of reading on the road, going and returning, and there, nearly the half of South’s Sermons, and no end of collections of proverbs. There were people in the train both ways with whom I might have been obliged to make or renew acquaintance;, but I lay perdu. Next to the British Museum there is nothing comparable to these rotatory reading-rooms, which give you at once fresh air and uninvaded leisure.”

The result of this reading in collections of proverbs was an interesting paper on the subject in the North British Review, February 1858.