1860–1865
On 7tli April 1860 died James, only son of Mr. Thomas Hamilton of the Eow. He was an accomplished man, a devoted Christian, and a faithful pastor in the Episcopal Church. He had been for many years Rector of Beddington, Surrey. Dr. Hamilton, at the request of his uncle, whose wish was law, prepared a memoir of his cousin, which was printed for private use, but not offered to the public. This course was considered more consonant with the gentle retirement of his character; but both the life delineated and the delineation of the life might have challenged the widest publicity.
The following affectionate note was addressed by the bereaved widow to the biographer: —
“TuNBRiDGE Wells, July 16, 1863.
“My dear Cousin James, — I have been wishing to write to you, to tell you how much satisfied I am with your lifelike sketch of my dear James; it comes out more and more as I read it over, till it gradually becomes a complete picture, growing upon one; so far more satisfactory than a mere formal stereotyped description of certain qualities and manner would have been. I have had many
516 “evangelical Christendom.”
most affectionate and satisfactory letters about it. I quite believe it will be a blessing and comfort to many, and I feel so very thankful that we thought of having it compiled, and so grateful to you, dear cousin James, for having done it. You must let me thank you for it, for I know it was carried on in the midst of many other calls upon your time. To my dear father I believe it will be a comfort and delight for the rest of his days, and you have made him know what his son was better than he ever did before. I am sure this will be a reward to you. — With our best love to you all, believe me, your affectionate cousin,
“Maeianne Hamilton.”
In the autumn of 1863 a proposal was made by the late Mr. Henderson of Park, through Mr. Watson of Berners Street, that he should undertake the editorial charge of Evangelical Christendom, the organ of the Evangelical Alliance. In the first instance he declined, mainly on the ground that editorial work constituted in some measure a competing or secondary calling, and so became the rival of his pastorate.
At a later date, however, through the persuasion of friends, and the representation made of the necessity and usefulness of the Magazine for the objects of Christian union, which lay near his heart, his objections were overcome. He undertook the work, and carried it on without intermission till the close of his life. This serial, from 1864 to 1867, contains many papers by his hand of general and permanent interest on the various aspects of Christianity as it bears on the world and the age.
“London, Nov. 20. 1863. “My dear William, — .., You must exceedingly miss Jane and Willie. I am sure it is good for young people to get some of their education away from home; but I am very soft-hearted about sending any of ours away; on the other hand it is wonderful how little (here at least) one sees of them at home. Latterly I have allowed them to come more into the study, just as a means of keeping up the acquaintance; but, after all, it is bodily presence rather than actual intercourse. I am always trying to save time, and always falling again into some scrape. Just now I have agreed to edit Evangelical Christendom for 1864, which will pretty well swallow up the leisure of one year.”
Thus he was enticed to undertake the work, as Parliament consents to pass the Mutiny Act, by the expedient of undertaking it only for one year.
TO MB. AND MRS. FERGUSON, BIRKENHEAD.
“London, Jan. 2, 1864.
“My DEAR Friends, — What a bitter blow to you! but what a blessed New Year’s Day to your beloved child! How well. I remember the dear little fellow with his too good head, and his bright observant ways. I think the last I saw of him was when his mamma and his brother and he convoyed me to the tramway, and in a few days they were to set forth for Kinmundy and the holidays. And now he is beholding the face of his Father who is in Heaven, his thirst of knowledge will be abundantly gratified, and all the traits which made him to you and your friends so endearing will be improved to the utmost, and features will be added which it hath not entered into the heart of man to conceive.
“Most deeply do we both feel for you in this great sorrow; but the Lord Himself will sustain you with His own strong consolation, and will make all grace abound towards you. With Mrs, Hamilton’s sympathizing remembrance, and my own, to yourself and Mrs. Ferguson, — I remain, my dear friend, ever affectionately yours,
“James Hamilton.”
The death of this child brought up a very interesting circumstance. In June of the preceding year, while Dr. Hamilton was residing with his friend Mr. Ferguson, prosecuting the Church Extension Fund, he occupied some spare hours in preparation for the following Sabbath in London. According to his wont, he dated the sermon, place and time, “St. Aidan’s Terrace, Birkenhead, 19th June 1863;” its text was, “And he said unto his father. My head, my head,” 2 Kings iv. 1 9. It was finished partly on the way and partly at home on the following day. The subject was the death of little children, and the consolations to Christian parents under bereavement. “When, more than six months afterwards, he learned that his friend’s bright boy had been suddenly removed, and that his only cry during the illness had been “My head, my head,” he turned to the MS. of the sermon, and sent it for perusal, date and all, with an affectionate letter to the bereaved parents.
FROM DR. M’GRIE.
“23 EocHESTER Road, Feb. 1, 1864.” My dear Dr. Hamilton, — With the pleasant echoes of your morning discourse yesterday still sounding in my ears, will you permit me to make a humble, though very selfish, request. I spoke to you about giving these sermons to the public, but I ’ earnestly covet ’ them for the British and Foreign Evangelical before they are framed into a volume. They would form an admirable sequel to the series on the ‘Scottish Philosophy,’ from the pen of our friend Dr. M’Cosh. They would furnish a most seasonable and effective antidote to the ‘Philosophy,’ falsely so called, now poisoning the minds of our young and ingenuous readers. Even as they stand, without putting you to any great trouble, the four discourses would make delightful reading as a series on the ‘Grecian Philosophy.’ I look to you to help me in establishing the British and Foreign. — Yours very sincerely,
“Thomas M’Crie.”
These lectures on the sects and phases of the Greek Philosophy in contrast with Christianity, are all that Dr. M’Crie certifies them to be. They have not yet been published, but they ought to see the light.
“LoNDOK, May 17, 1864.
“My dear William, — ... The day after I returned, viz., last Thursday, Mrs. Strong left for Quarter, where she now is. We were quite sorry to part with her. Amidst much suffering, her unselfish, or rather self-conquering cheerfulness, renders her a delightful inmate, and both Annie and I miss her greatly.”
Here we again obtain a glimpse of that friendship, more than romantic, having its root in a common relation to the same Redeemer, which was formed during his brief ministry at Abernyte, and endured without abatement to the end. We shall meet with the family very soon again in the course of our narrative, and learn the value of such sanctified attachments. The need will soon occur which requires and manifests the friend indeed.
During this summer an access of the Erasmus fever occurs. As usual in such cases, a small note-book is bought, and duly inaugurated. The great intention is announced, and entries bearing on it regularly begun. In this instance the record extends only over one week. The project, driven out by a whole army of assailing cares, goes out of sight for the time. After a few throbs, each feebler than its predecessor, the conception seems to expire. Some time afterwards, as we shall see, he returns to this fondly cherished scheme, not with the view of executing it, but in order to lay it tenderly in its grave, as a thing greatly desired, but impossible in a life so short and so full. We insert the whole of this record: —
“48 Fusion Square, London, June 10, 1864. — Last week, a notion which I have long entertained revived on my mind so powerfully as to be for the moment a ruling passion. It is to write a popular sketch of the life and times of Erasmus — a subject of which I took partial possession in an Exeter Hall lecture four years ago. I have got the books, and in my memory have some of the materials; but I must go about it honestly, and not give to it the time which anterior duties claim. The amount of this is small indeed. I have got this book in order to mark down for a time how the days are filled up, and see by actual experience how far I am likely to succeed.
“On Monday, six hours were consumed by visitors, one and a half hours by a meeting of our district visitors, and then a meeting of Session nearly three hours long left me no energy remaining.
“On Tuesday, I started at eight to baptize the child of a good man who had come up for the purpose from Ipswich. Then went to Blackheath, and then to Stratford, to see an invalid old lady who had sent a message saying that she would like to see me, and only got back in time to attend two committees, and finish the day of fourteen hours by speaking at a public meeting.
“Wednesday the 8th. — Started at nine for the marriage of Mary Gillespie, and before I returned from that and two visits of friendship at Clapham it was ten at night.
“Thursday the 9th. — Worked — interrupted by visitors, for six hours writing letters and documents connected with our Foreign Missions, the Presbyterian Mission question, the supply of vacant churches, etc. Then three and a half hours calling on Madame Jerichau, Lord Eollo, Mrs. Patison, etc. — not one of them belonging to the congregation, and finished off with the prayer-meeting.
“Friday the lOth. — Spent three hours laying the foundations of a sermon on ‘The Spirit of Christ,’ John vi. 65. and gave four hours to visits. In the evening an hour of Erasmus.
“llth, Saturday. — Began my sermon de 7iovo, and, interrupted only by one needful visit and a funeral, proceeded prosperously for eight hours.
“2th, Sunday. — Preached twice.
“1y. — Usual Monday levee. Nine letters, four hours of visiting, and the evening closed with a friend at supper.
“nth. — Four hours Erasmus. Visit to Horticultural Gardens. Presbytery. A committee two and a half hours. Three letters. Ten visitors.
“ltpth. — Twelve letters, which, with visitors, occupied from breakfast till our one o’clock dinner. Then till tea visited. Thereafter Erasmus three and a half hours, and finished the Colloquies.
“lOttTi. — Visits to the sick two hours; visitors two and a half hours. Prayer-meeting and committee three hours. Read a hundred pages Letters of Miss Gornwallis.
“1 Ifh. — Prepared a paper for Evangelical Christendom!’
Alas! at this rate, when will the eleven Latin folios of Erasmus be read and digested!
When Dr. Guthrie was compelled by infirm health to retire from the conspicuous and honourable position which he had long held in Edinburgh, the eyes of Dr. Hanna, his colleague, and the congregation were first turned towards Dr. Hamilton as the most suitable successor. A correspondence accordingly took place, with the view of ascertaining, in the first instance privately, whether he was disposed to entertain the proposal. His judgment as to duty was from the first clear, and therefore he wisely gave a decisive answer at once, so that the matter was carried no further. Dr. Hamilton had consecrated his life to the ministry in London, and he would not permit any consideration of relief to his wearied spirit, or leisure for literary work, to turn him aside from his purpose. The correspondence between him and Dr. Hanna on that occasion need not now be considered private; and on the principle of enabling the reader to consider for his own profit “whatsoever things are lovely” in the intercourse of fellow-disciples, we transcribe it here entire: —
FROM DB. HANNA.
“Edinbukgh, July 14, 1864.
“My dear Dr. Haiiilton, — You are aware, perhaps, that in consequence of Dr. Guthrie’s being permanently laid aside, we are anxious to find some one to fill his place in St. John’s. The position is one of such importance that you will excuse my writing to you about it. We have difficulty in finding in Scotland the man we want, and it has occurred to me that there might be some one in England who might do. Do you know of any such? Some of our members were so presumptuous as to cherish the fond imagination that the comparative relief from labour and return to your native land might induce even you to entertain the idea of it. It is too much to hope for, but I could state many things about the position you would occupy here which would make it not so Utopian as at first sight it seems; but I presume that I need not do more than simply hint at it. You will pardon my doing so much, as it springs from the earnest desire I have to see Dr. Guthrie’s place occupied by one worthy to be his successor. It will be my effort to make the position as agreeable in every way to his successor as I have striven to make it to him. — I am ever, dear Dr. Hamilton, very truly yours, Wm. Hanna.”
FEOM DK. HAMILTON.
“London, July 23, 1864.
“My dear Dr. Hanna, — You are one of the earliest and dearest of my friends, and in Edinburgh every time I revisit it I feel something of the olden spell, and I am alive, perhaps too keenly, to the consideration which you urged, — the hope of doing some things in a sphere of comparative leisure which it is very certain will never be done in London.
“But the reasons against leaving Regent Square seem conclusive. I cannot suppose that there ever was a minister happier in his people and in his sessional colleagues than I have been, and the thought of parting is what I cannot face; even to meditate it as a thing possible seems little short of treason. And now it would be more ungrateful than ever, for it is my present flock which has just expended an enormous sum in the purchase and improvement of our church, and which has done more than enough to make me, as to worldly things, free from carefulness. The effect, too, on our Presbyterianism generally might be very injurious. To personal friends who have made great and noble sacrifices for church extension and for missions, I am sure it would be discouraging. Here we are all needful to one another, and although my successor might be far more suitable, that would hardly make amends for my going away. With a wonderful dislike to ecclesiastical affairs and to business generally, the course of events, and the misjudging kindness of my brethren, have compelled me to take more than a proportional share of our Church’s work; and, although it were for nothing else but the fear of weakening others’ hands, I must abide at my post. I assure you it costs me a pang. Fully the half of my time is occupied in doing things which many men could do far better, and which are to me unspeakably irksome. I try to accept them as ’ the burden of the Lord,’ but often I inwardly rebel, and your proposal revived for an instant the dreams of other days. The right hand which, if I had not cut off, I had at least tied up many years ago, seemed as if it might yet regain its cunning; and now I feel more effort than I ought in removing a tempting opportunity and returning to the life of a Presbyterian factotum. However, I believe that it is right, and with so many compensations, with congenial friends, an affectionate people, and an abundance of all earthly blessings, it would be ridiculous as well as sinful to talk of sacrifice.
“Let me in conclusion thank you and those other friends who have thought of me so kindly. In one thing, I am sure, you have judged aright, we should have gone on famously together; and, although I must not accept your invitation, I shall always remember it as the crowning act in a friendship which began more than thirty years ago, and which I rejoice to believe is unending.
“J. H.”
“London, July 25, 1864.
“My dear William, — ... Ten days ago, Dr. Hanna wrote asking me how I would like to be Dr. Guthrie’s successor. This, of course, is what no one can be; but for some reasons I might have liked very well to be Dr. Hanna’s colleague: the one sermon weekly, the leisurely life of Edinburgh, the idea of doing some things which I used to dream of, but which it is very certain I can never do in London. All this, however, is countervailed by the necessities of my position. I cannot abandon the cause of Presbyterianism in England, nor can I leave a people who have done what the people of Regent Square have done within the last four years; so to-day I sent off my refusal. Although, like Issachar, I see that rest is good, I have again put my shoulder to the burden.”
Most touching words, when read in the light of subsequent events. Alas! the burden was more than he could bear; and, accordingly, he sank soon under its weight. He would not accept comparative rest in Edinburgh; he would labour on till he should reach the perfect rest.
“London, July 27, 1864.
“My dear Mary Isabella, — My last was to Annie, and this is to you. You have both been good correspondents.
“Yesterday I went down to Tiverton in Devonshire, to give my lecture on ‘Books and Eeaders.’ Devonshire is a beautiful county, abounding in corn and apple-trees, and the green fields all studded with cows of a tawny-red colour, as if they bad been dipped in treacle, — and very nice cows they are, for it is their milk which yields the Devonshire cream. Tiverton is a pretty little town, with a bright stream of water running down every street, like the New Jerusalem, with a river of water clear as crystal on either side of the street. I slept in the hotel, and, by way of distinction, they gave me the rooms which Lord Palmerston occupies when he comes down to be elected Member of Parliament. J. H.”
“TuNBRiDGE Wells, August 15, 1864.
“A man came in to tune the piano, an upright one. When the front was removed it revealed several rows of dirty cobwebs, which gave rise to the following colloquy. I give it as nearly as possible, word for word. I believe that the tuner now sells pianos as well as makes them; but he did not profess to be more than a working man, and spoke like one.
“‘D.D. What an odd place for spiders to build in!
“* Musician. But not so bad either, considering their dangers from housemaids’ brooms.
“• D.D. But if it is flies they want, they will have long to wait.
“* M. When the weather grows cold the flies will go in.
“‘D.D. No doubt; and if he is sure of a good feast in October, a spider will submit to a two months’ fast quite patiently.
“‘M. Is that really the case?
“‘D.D. I remember reading of a gentleman who shut up in a pill-box a field-spider and threw it into a drawer.
He thought no more about it till haK a year afterwards, when he opened the drawer, and, taking off the lid of the box, the spider sprang out as lively as ever, though not quite so jolly. His body had shrunk from the bulk of a pea to the size of a pin’s head. It is the same with all creatures who subsist by catching others. A North American Indian can exist without food much longer than an Englishman, who knows that he has only to step into an eating-house when he wants his dinner. And it is the same with all hunters. A horse or cow would die if left two or three days without food, but a lion or tiger would feel it no hardship! and a spider who lives by his wits, has been constructed so as to survive a period of hunger which would kill off all the leaf-browsing grubs on the face of creation.
“‘M. Is it not wonderful how the Almighty fits every creature for the life it has got to lead? Don’t you think, sir, it would be nice if clergymen like you were sometimes explaining these things in their sermons?
“‘D.D. “Well, it is hardly to hear about these things that people come to church. It is the Gospel, or God’s merciful message to sinners, that Christian congregations wish to hear. The works of God are a very proper subject for popular lectures and mechanics’ institutes, but people come to church to hear the Word of God explained.
“‘M. I may as well be candid, and it is not very often that I have been to church, but it is not because I am against religion. It is because at church I either cannot understand, or else it is not the thing that my mind craves for. It is all either denunciation, or doctrines, or phrases that I do not know the meaning of. And I think it is the same with a great many working men. I have been among pianoforte-makers in different factories off and on for eighteen years, mostly in London, and although there are some wild fellows enough, I do not think their minds are set against religion. It is different in Paris, where I worked for two years. There they would laugh at the whole thing. They leave religion to the women, but the men themselves don’t really seem to feel to want it. It is different in England. An Englishman is made for religion, and however bad he be, there is always something in him that tells him it is right. In Erance, the priests keep hold of the people, because they have got hold of the women; but in England the clergy have not got hold of the working people, either men or women. We never feel as if a clergyman could understand or enter into us. In any trouble, when wanting advice or comfort, it never occurs to us to go to a minister.
“‘D.D. Neither the English nor French artisan goes to Church, and so they are practically alike in dispensing with religion. Did you find much difference between them otherwise?
“‘M. The French operative has much more taste than the English. Perhaps it is natural to him; but in Paris everything is so beautiful, and people are so much in the way of going out and in places like the Louvre, and making remarks on what they see, that it forms their taste and gives them a delicate judgment about their work.’
“He then told me what a nice collection of the mosses and ferns of the neighbourhood his own boy had formed.”
“TuNBRiDGE Wells, Aug. 16, 1864. “Dearest Annie,^ — Your letter of Saturday and Monday — for which a special deputation, consisting of Bell and Tina and cousin Maggie, went to the post-of&ce — was read to an eager auditory, and it was a great joy to us all to hear thus far of your welfare. At first there will be some long days, and now and then some dull ones; but happily our minds have been so made that anything to which we apply them at last becomes pleasant, and though a little irksome at first, we get inured to system and routine. The habit is invaluable. People who are prompt, punctual, orderly, methodical, get through their work in the world so quietly and comfortably, and, with least fatigue to themselves, do the most service to others. For the sake of these habits alone, it is worth while to be at school for a time. And now, my dear daughter, I commend you to the care and keeping of your Heavenly Father. It is our great happiness to know that He is ever near you. May He enable you to gain the love of those around you, and give you health and happiness. I am sure you will find Miss Fox good and kind.
“J. H.”
“TuNBRiDGE Wells, Aug. 20, 1864.” My dear Sissie,^ — This day will finish your first and longest week of schooL Mamma and I miss you very much, but are reconciled — at least try to reconcile ourselves — to your absence by the hope of the advantage you will derive from it. Most of the week I have spent in reading the Latin letters of Erasmus. They are very 1 His daughter at school. * Familiar name for Annie.
amusing. One I read to-day describes a lively tourist on board a vessel on the Rhine, attended by a monkey, with a musket slung to his side, and an itinerary (Murray’s Guide) in his hand, in which he was constantly jotting down the names of the places as they passed, — all so like travellers now- a- days, all except the monkey.
“The Lord bless you and keep you. — Ever your affectionate father, James Hamilton.”
“Brighton, Sept. 1864. — I would like to recall where and how the August recess of these London years has been spent.
“1842. — At Tunbridge Wells, Rock Lodge, now a tumble- down old house on the ascent to Mount Ephraim, with my dear mother and brothers and Jane. Four weeks of wonderful sunshine. Lay most of the time under the trees, and read (among many other books) Hetherington’s History of the Church of Scotland, and Haldane On the Romans, and Hodge; laying the plan of a course of lectures on Romans, which filled up the Sabbath mornings of nearly three years, with much enjoyment to myself, and I hope not without some benefit to the people. Here also I prepared for the press a tract. The Dew of Hermon. We used to worship with the warm-hearted Wesleyans, and I preached twice in their neat little chapel, and have still a handsome copy of their hymn-book, which they gave me as a remembrance, along with a specimen of their Tunbridge ware.
“August, 1843. — Was in Scotland, still tumultuating with all the excitement of the recent Disruption. Partly at Stonehouse, preaching to the Free Church adherents Id a grassy dell by the burn-side, near the village; partly at Gourock with Mr. William Buchanan, and finally with the Gillespies at Dalblair House, near Ayr. One excursion I remember with much pleasure to the ruins of Crossraguel Abbey, and to Culzean Castle, as well as an evening amidst the woods and waters round the Castle of Montgomery.
“1844. — Was at “Worthing gathering mushrooms with the Gillespies on Chantonbury Eing; going picnics to Bramber; reading Ernest Maltravers.
“1845. — Along with Jane and Andrew, joined William and his bride in a trip to Paris. We had pleasant apartments in a quiet hotel in the Eue de la Paix, and were the most industrious of sightseers, feeling strong, elastic, and happy. Every morning after breakfast, on the freshest of eggs and finest of bread, we sallied forth, and kept dutifully moving through galleries and gardens until it was time to return to our five o’clock dinner. Then, when the lamps were being lighted, we started anew, revolving round the Boulevards, turning in for an ice at Tortoni’s or a cup of coffee in the Palais Royal. With William’s funny stories, and perpetual flow of spirits, or with fits of remorg’e at his own extravagance, which were still more diverting, it was a joyful time, and, as we drifted along, as gay as the Parisians.”
“48 EusTON Square, Nov. 25, 1864.” My dear Sissie, — Bell has been a prisoner with cold all this week, and has improved her leisure in writing a
LETTEll TO HIS DAUGHTER. 533
letter which, no doubt, contains all the news; so what am I to do? For you don’t want a dissertation; and what you do want is forestalled. But let me see. Has Bell told you how a tortoise-shell pussy came to the kitchen window, and was taken in? and how mamma, justly fearmg for the birds, ordered it away; and it is gone? And how the parakeets and cockatoos have been brought up-stairs for fear of the cat, which has gone away? And has Bell told you how, on Friday, Mr. Fossett sent two pheasants and a hare? and how, on Monday, Mrs. Ptippon brought two more pheasants? and how, on Wednesday, Mr. Gillespie sent a barrel of flour; and how, this very day, Mr. Thomson sent a goose, — a sister of the one he sent last Michaelmas? Then has she told you how this week I have been reading my old friend Homer, and like him better than ever? and how 1 have edited the December number of Evangelical Christendom, and written the preface to the volume for 1864? And how Sabbath next will be my birthday, when I shall be fifty years old? If she has not mentioned these things, I can’t think what she can have put in her letter; and if she has told you all these things, you see how nothing is left for me.
“A fortnight after this you will be coming home, and the Square, which you left so beautiful, will be dark and sombre, unless the fairies should come and cover it with their frosty filagree; and Miss Smith, whom you left ’ a free and fetterless thing,’ you will find a poor, bird-limed canary, just ready to be put into the cage; and myself, whom you left rejoicing in the year of jubilee, you -will find a staid old gentleman on the shady side of fifty; and Bertie you will find at school in knickerbockers. But we shall all be glad to see you, even though you should be as tall as the lamp-post, and so learned that we must all speak in unknown tongues. — Till then, I remain, your affectionate father, James Hamilton.”
TO HIS WIFE.
“London, Feb. 6, 1865. “Last night I did preach for Mr. Chalmers; and Arnot had a fine congregation in Regent Square. On my return from Marylebone, one of the office-bearers, a fine, intelligent man, about six-and-thirty, told me that he was one of a dozen of the older boys in the Caledonian Asylum whom I used to have at tea in Lansdowne Place; and mentioned that the first serious impressions he had were when I visited the school and gave addresses to the boys. These produced no seeming effect at the moment, but he and two or three others would go away afterwards and weep bitterly. They joined together as a little band for prayer and reading the Bible, and most of them have turned out well. This is ’ bread on the waters ’ found twenty-two years afterwards.”
“48 EusTON Square, Feb. 17, 1865.
“My deaeest Annie, — Yesterday afternoon, entertained at tea the Rev. E. M’All of Leicester, who had come up to be introduced as a F.L.S., along with James Smith and your friend Carruthers. Took the cab-full down to Burlington House, where we had a paper on ‘Vegetable Monstrosities; ’ then went from the Linnsean to the Royal
Society, where a paper was read on the funny behaviour of atoms in leucate of zinc, and certain compounds whose very names I never ‘heard tell of;’ then came out and took a second tea with the Fellows, including Dr. Eaird, Joseph Hooker, and other friends, old and new. Thence to Arthur Kinnaird’s ‘.to meet Lord Dalhousie’ — tea the third.”
“48 EtTSTON Square, March 10, 1865.
“My dear William, — ... Your dear good Jane is with us again, having returned on Tuesday. She is a bright and pleasant inmate, but I fear will find it much duller than it was at Christmas, when all the children had their holidays. I am never much in the way of company to any one, and the last few weeks, betwixt writing papers for Macmillan on Erasmus, and a set of lectures on hymnology, my thoughts have been for the most part inside the foolscap....
“Like ourselves, you have had a severe and trying winter, with much sickness among your people. In four weeks we lost five elderly members, all mothers in Israel The only one whom you would know was Mrs. Johnstone, of Gower Street.
“This is the anniversary of the death of little James Walker, fifteen years ago. Dear child! I like to look at his bust, there is in it so much of Jane, and so much of those ‘whose angels do always behold the face of your Father.’”
These papers for Macmillan were only certain feelers put forth in the direction of a great design, to ascertain for himself wlietlier it might be possible. The desire to write the life and times of Erasmus was a passion, cherished long and cherished deeply. With a view to it, he accomplished a great amount of congenial reading. The accumulations of material for this work are greater than for anyother, whether actually accomplished or only projected. Besides many items in the ordinary stores of Bibline, a substantial book is dedicated exclusively to this subject, and is, to a large extent, filled with extracts, jottings, thoughts, and references. It is a curious receptacle: it is touching to peep into the workshop, now that the ingenious and busy worker is gone. His net had been spread out in all directions, and frequently drawn: the miscellaneous heaps that it brought up at successive throws are carefully stowed away; each atom in its own place. The bones piled up in this apartment are very many, and, to the casual observer, they seem very dry; but if the hand that gathered them had, for a few years longer, retained its cunning, the whole might have been compacted into one symmetric organism, covered with flesh, and heaving with the breath of life.
With James Hamilton, however, this passion for a great literary achievement was the strong man overcome and dispossessed by a stronger. The ministry of the Gospel, and such literature as directly sprang from it, dominated, and held other aspirations down. It was “first the kingdom of God and His righteousness,” and such other things as the literature of the Reformation period were compelled to take a secondary place.
In these papers for Macmillan, and in a lecture before the Young Men’s Christian Association, he laid down some lines, and noted some facts; but the great design died with himself.
His own journal, however, which is on this point explicit and full, will tell how fondly the scheme was cherished, and how reluctantly it was abandoned at last.
“May 1 7, 1865. — For a good many years I have cherished a hope of doing something towards the Life and Times of Erasmus. The subject is very attractive, and with translations of some of his livelier letters and the more amusing passages in his colloquies, I fancy it might have been made entertaining. At all events, I should have liked to point out his special position and service. He not only did more than any other man towards the revival of letters, but he has left both religion and philosophy under endless obligations as the restorer of good sense. The ’ sound mind,’ the love of the practical, the true, and the useful, was his distinguishing characteristic, and it was this, as much as the love of the beautiful, which carried him with such ardour into the study of classical antiquity. His first great book was the Adages, an effort to bring together the sagacity and experimental wisdom of all ages; and his first theological treatise, the Enchiridion, is an admirable attempt to exhibit and enforce practical Christianity, distinct from trivial observances and superstitious adhesions. The same good sense runs through his Paraphrase, and, blended with exquisite humour, gives enduring value to his letters and more sprightly effusions,
“For this very cause, some do not like him. They call him a rationalist, and the father of them. But if they mean that he was an unbeliever, they are utterly wrong. He lacked moral courage, and his nature was not very emotional; but within the limits of his pretty large and comprehensive creed, he seems to have had as few doubts as other men. The greater part of Popery he tacitly let go, but this only enabled him to retain with more unquestioning confidence the common Christianity.
“From Eationalism, in the sense of an irreverent ignoring of the supernatural, I revolt with all my heart and soul; but I long to see more reasonableness in the spiritual and ecclesiastical domain. Some hints regarding the XoyiKT) Xarpeta might have been given in connexion with Erasmus and the early Reformers.
“Besides, it would have been very pleasant to revise that prodigious range of literature, patristic and classical, of which Erasmus was the editor. Owing to a secluded boyhood, and unlimited youthful leisure, without ever attaining accurate scholarship, I have read in these departments more than most people; and, after an abstinence of a quarter of a century, a strange longing for these books returns. Like the daisies and dandelions that come up in October, it is the feeble revival of an impossible spring. For after giving to the work the spare hours and the autumn holiday of the last two or three years, I am constrained to abandon the task. This last winter had no leisure, and in the congregation a childish feud about the hymn-book was so conducted as to rob me of rest by night and peace by day; and, perhaps as a consequence of this, I find my elasticity a good deal impaired. So this day, with a certain touch of tenderness, I restored the eleven tall folios to the shelf, and tied up my memoranda, and took leave of a project which has sometimes cheered the hours of exhaustion, and the mere thought of which has always been enough to overcome my natural indolence. It is well; if a favourite play, it was also a great temptation. It was a chance, the only one I ever had, of attaining a small measure of literary distinction; and where there is so much ‘pride and haughtiness of heart,’ it is better to be unknown. Like the congregation of the Gascon preacher who had forgotten his discourse, the world will never know what a treat it has lost; and not having this absorbent for spare hours, it is possible that to wife and children, and people, there may be a gain in the abandonment of the magnum opus.”
In all his papers I have not met with anything more affecting than this farewelL It is a right arm he is cutting off: he is wrung to the heart by the deed, and yet with his oTi hand he deliberately performs it. How sad and tender, in the light of subsequent events, is his allusion to the feeble efforts of the jBowers to reproduce in October “an impossible spring.” Already he felt the vital energies beginning to ebb. Yet, sad though this renunciation was, his obituary notice of the magnum opu concludes with a playful allusion — a smile is on his countenance as he announces its decease.
FKOM THE REV. DR. M’CRIE.
“23 Rochester Road, March 13, 1863.
“My dear Dr. Hamilton, — The Church of Scotland contemplated from the beginning the addition to her psalmody of ’ other scriptural songs.’ The proposal was revived in 1645-1648, after the Solemn League had been sworn, showing that they did not consider such an addition would be any infringement of her ‘covenanted uniformity.’ The proposal, though interrupted by the persecution, was renewed as soon as the Church obtained peace at the Revolution, and its stoppage then may be traced to the decline of public and personal piety in Scotland. Meanwhile the people, accustomed only to the Psalms, acquired for our Psalter that veneration with which they regarded all that had been practised by their persecuted ancestors; and the Seceders in particular regarded adherence to it as part of the ’ covenanted uniformity,’ which was a great mistake. Hence ’ the conscientious attachment to the Psalms’ — an attachment which none of our fathers in the Scottish Church, at any period of her history, till the middle of last century, would ever have dreamed inconsistent with the introduction of other Scripture songs. — Ever yours truly,
“Thomas M’Ceie.”
The testimony of Dr. M’Crie, with the grounds on which his judgment rests, should settle and set at rest the specific question on which it bears. Our Presbyterian ancestors did not consider the use of sacred songs in public worship, in addition to the Psalms, any dereliction of duty, or any contravention of Scripture.
“SuNNYSiDE, Liverpool, April 18, 1865.
“My deaeest Annie, — There were five of us — Messrs. Watson, Duncan, Lewis, General Sliortrede, and myself.
DK. LIV1NGST0^’E. 541
besides a gentleman unknown, but who — as he was reading Stirling’s account of Hegel’s philosophy, and gave me a very intelligible account of it — must have been a metaphysician. We arrived at half-past eight, in time for haK an hour of the Synod; then here to a hearty supper; and now, after a famous sleep, the like of which I trusb you also had, I am tipping off this telegram at half-past eight, and when they are already waiting for me down-stairs. Adieu. Love to all. Be good (children), be happy (wife), and believe me, your ever affectionate husband,
“James Hamlton.”
feom de. livingstone.
“BuRK Bank Road, Hamilton,
June 21, 1865.
“My dear Dr. Hamilton, — ... We shall come to London about the middle of next week. I am much obliged by your very kind offer, but I am doubtful if I would not be doing you a great injury. I am so irregular in my hours that your house might get a bad name. Agnes and I were out too often past elders’ hours, and we finished up at the hotel by getting Punch and Judy exhibited before three black boys brought home by Colonel Eigby. Mrs. Storey knew not we were going off next day, or I believe we should have had notice to ’ send ourselves.’ I shall be delighted to meet Dr. Duff and Lady Pirie, but you must take the matter into consideration. I don’t know that we shall misbehave, but you have full warning as to what we are capable of. — With kind regards to Mrs. Hamilton, yours, etc., D. L.”
Dr. Livingstone accomplished his visit. It was a great enjojonent to both, and resulted in a fast friendship. One sees at a glance, on the face of this familiar note, that the great explorer enjoyed a buoyant, playful, youthful spirit, — indeed, if he had not possessed such a measure of lightness (which is all the heavens different from levity), he would not have been a great explorer. Sprightliness in conversation is often the external expression of the spring within which constitutes the strength of a strong man. Livingstone and Hamilton laboured in very different spheres, but were congenial spirits.
FROM DR. LIVINGSTONE.
“Ox BOARD S.S. ‘Massilia,’ Aug. 25, 1865.
“My dear Dr. Hamilton, — I enclose some stuff in accordance with your suggestion, and I fear that you will feel that you have made a bad bargain. It will require no end of polishing, erasure, and transformation, and when you have done all to it that it needs you will say — ‘Bless the fellow, it would have been better to have written it all myself.’ I am trusting that my friend, Mrs. Hamilton, will interjaculate — ‘Serves you right.’
“David Livingstone.”
“p. & 0. S.S. ‘Massilia,’ Aug. 26, 1865.” My dear Friend, — I sent you from Malta, or rather sent ashore at Malta, twenty-eight pages intended for you. I could not pay the postage, for we were treated like a lot of unclean beasts. The Maltese would not take anything from us except at the end of long poles, and tongs were used to open the boxes at the end of the same. Kobody durst touch anything belonging to us.... Ten days’ quarantine. Cholera was in Marseilles, and we were supposed to be infected. We had a line of boats round us all night and day. The only chance of getting the letters home was by putting them into the ship’s boats unstamped; so I hope my letter reached you, if not, it may still be in quarantine in Malta. We shall reach Alexandria this day, Saturday, about three p.m., and go through to Suez to-night. Cholera was bad there; sixteen engineers died on the line of railway, but it is said to be over now, and we go from the steamer into the railway cars, and off soon after we land, — Yours affectionately,
“David Livingstone.”
The intrepid traveller was then starting on the journey which has not ended yet. Hope of his ultimate return has now revived after it had been almost extinguished. In the middle of 1868 he had been two years in the heart of Africa without a word from home. Of the many tidings that will reach his ear, when at last his relations with home are renewed, not the least sad will be the removal of that like-minded brother to whom he sent back these letters from Malta and Egypt
Dr. Hamilton’s holiday this autumn was interrupted by a great sorrow, a severe and dangerous accident to his eldest son, a boy about fourteen years of age. One signal providential alleviation he gladly and thankfully recognised, — that the injury, which was critical and painful, and needed much patient watching, was received while they sojourned under the roof of Mrs. Strong, who with her sister, Miss Margaret Jaffray, contributed from an old deep fund of love such nursing as the wealth of a kingdom could not have bought. The fnendship had its root in spiritual instruction imparted and received during that brief but precious ministry at Abernyte. The reciprocal affection that subsisted between the members of that family and Dr. Hamilton was altogether paternal; for him it lasted a lifetime, for his widow and children it survives unimpaired to this hour.
Mrs. Strong, with her daughter, and occasionally her sister, occupied the manor-house of Quarter, Stirlingshire, as a country residence.
“Quarter House, Benny, Oct. lOth, 1865. — We left London on the 14th of August. Never was there a more perfect holiday. Except two or three trifling engagements there was nothing to invade the leisure here, and at Tighnabruaich and Stonehouse we were perfectly at home; the weather was wonderful, and morning by morning the children woke up to the sunshine and spent in the open air the livelong day; and many a time had we repeated to one another our amazement at such unbroken health and happiness. We had arranged to return on Friday, September 29th, and on the afternoon of the previous day we dissuaded the boys (James and his cousin) from going to fish in the Carron, lest they should get damp feet and catch cold on the eve of our home-going. Instead of the river they went to the wood, and at dusk James was carried in by the coachman death-like and pale. He had been climbing the highest of the beech trees, and had fallen from a height of sixty-two feet. His descent had been interrupted by only one small branch, which broke away with him, but which so far turned him from the head - long direction that he alighted on the breadth of his back. The preservation of his life is an interposition of Providence to be held by us in perpetual remembrance, and what is still more wonderful no bone has been broken — unless it should prove that one of the vertebrae is fractured. He now lies on his back, with the motor nerves of one side paralysed, and I fear not yet out of danger. As regards plans, our position is one of blank uncertainty. Even should all proceed favourably it must be a long time before the poor invalid can be moved, and a long time of watching and nursing awaits his dear mother. Even in this trial mercies abound. There is no friend under whose roof we could have rather chosen to be. The house is now more ours than Mrs. Strong’s; that good angel. Miss Margaret, is the best of nurses, and servants and all forget fatigue, and I never before felt so deeply the sustaining power there is in sympathy. As regards the sufferer himself, I trust this will also prove for the best.”
“Quarter, Oct. 2, 1865. “My dear Minnie,^ — This morning James is greatly better. At this moment (10 A.M.) I am writing beside him, whilst he is reading his book, and whilst mamma, who, along with Miss Margaret Jaffray, watched him during the night, is getting some sleep. He has made more progress than I pould have hoped after such a fall; but the bruises on his legs require some one to be always at hand to rub
1 Annie. 2 M them or change their position, or do whatever the feeling of the moment requires. It is very interesting to watch the waking of the creatures — a sight which now-a-days I seldom see; but yesterday I rose at five, so as to give mamma some sleep. It was a dull, mild Sabbath morning, the trees somewhat tinted, as befits the first of October, but not a leaf stirring in the dim calm air. The oxen in the park were the first to rise, and very diligently did they mouth up the plentiful grass, which was all the welcomer for being wet with dew, as the early night had been clear, and this season the cattle can scarcely get a drop to drink. It grew a little clearer, and as I looked out at the open window there was a sudden flutter of a sweetchestnut branch, and a low ’ tchuk, tcliuk,’ as a squirrel jumped out of bed, and called his neighbour, another squirrel, who came slowly and rather sleepily down a tall larch. They soon began to gambol and play Blondin from branch to branch and from tree to tree, scattering leaves and drops of dew, and awakening finches, blackcaps, linnets, thrushes, and no end of little birds, who, although some of them looked a little surprised for the moment, soon commenced twittering and congratulating one another on the new day, and then began to look after their breakfasts. But the post has just come in, bringing me twenty-two letters. If you do not hear till you get mamma’s Friday epistle, you may conclude that we are going on favourably. Here, as you know, we have all that kindness can provide, and we have only goodness and mercy to sing of. — Ever your affectionate father, James Hamilton. “We do not hope to get home this week.”
It became now a severe aggravation of the father’s trial that his child lay in a critical condition in Scotland, while he could not long be absent from his ministry in London. His plan, to some extent actually executed, was to spend part of each week in London and part in Scotland, — more than 400 miles away.
TO MR. WATSON.
“Quarter, Oct. 18, 1865.
“James I found looking better. He gave an eager welcome to the grapes which I brought from Mrs. Watson, and as I had also some from Mrs. Marshall, he is now plentifully supplied. They had got on pretty well during my absence, but on Saturday night violent palpitation came on, and at last they all got so anxious that they sent for the doctor. It has twice returned, but yielded to the prescription. There is yet no restoration of nervous activity.
“For the remainder of the year I think I must count on mine being mainly a preaching ministry, — that is, after the Communion, for a month or two, I would like to be here as much as possible. I foresee nothing to hinder my going up on the Friday evening or Saturday, preaching on Sabbath, and returning on Monday morning or night, thus spending one or two working days each week besides the Sabbath in town, as the case might require.
TO HIS WIFE.
“October 28, 1865, in the train.
“My dear Annie, — I hope that you and Aunt Maggie got no cold from standing so long in the shrubbery, and
548 “words on wheels,”
waving your envoi. I was surprised to find the roads hard-frozen except in the shade, but passing through Denny there were not a few hare little feet toddling on the icy path. Nearly opposite Dunipace House were six oxen lying dead in a field, and with their drooped heads neither browsing nor ruminating, — most of the survivors looked sickly. I am here all alone in a second class carriage, and hope to post my letter at Carlisle or Preston. It is a lovely day, and I feel so much the better of the journey that I hope Mrs. Strong as well as you will arrange to get an airing. In your sermon on well-being and well-doing you must have a paragraph on this. It is not only the open air — the oxygen — which is exhilarating and strengthening, but the large space gives an amphfication to our existence; and, like a collier coming up from his mine, it is good to quit the work-room or sick-room for the garden or the public road. It seems to bring us at once nearer our neighbours and nearer God. Your task just now is peculiar and trying; but if we are enabled to wait the Lord’s leisure, I have no doubt that some great enlargement will follow. My love abides with all at Quarter. Mrs. Strong’s kindness and Miss Margaret’s are something that should never be forgotten in the history of Christian friendship. Like the Ochils, the hills of Lanarkshire and Dumfries are all powdered with snow. And now, my only darling, the God of love be with you. Eat well, and sleep well, and keep well. When I get to town I must make inquiry as to the means of transport for invalids, so that when the time — God’s good time — comes, we may know how to proceed. — Your ever affectionate husband, James Hamilton.”
^’ Nov. 18, 1865, in the train.
“My dearest Annie, — We are nearing Preston, and having had a basin of soup at Carlisle, I am preparing to attack the sandwiches. My neighbour with the broken arm is quiet and peaceable, and does not interrupt me, and there are no more of us. I have finished my sermon with nearly five hours’ writing, and think I shall bring out as ‘Words on Wheels’ a volume of sermons railwaywrittea The first of this kind which I did was on a very sad day — the Saturday that I left dear Jane dying at Carnwath under the care of mamma, and the then as ever tender and true Aunt Margaret. It is also twenty -five years to-day, or yesterday, since leaving Abernyte. I returned to Edinburgh with the purpose of never more leaving that beautiful city. A short-sighted and short-lived purpose! Had it been adhered to, I should have missed the great Ions happiness of the last nineteen years. You too would have missed nursing a broken-backed laddie, and would not have been bothered with a husband running up and down to town to preach and attend Church Extension meetings. I hope you will make up to-night for your early rising. It is not nice in vnnter. Since leaving Lanarkshire the day proves mild and softly bright, and I am very comfortable. And now, with much love to all around you, and praying that the God of peace and love may be with you, I remain, dearest, your ever affectionate husband,
“J. Hamilton.”
“Quarter, Nov. 29, 1865. — On Monday I entered my fifty- second year, 3X17 = 51; other seventeen years would bring me on to sixty-eight, and I fancy that this is pretty nearly what an actuary would assign as my ’ expectation of life.’ Even this I cannot say that I expect, and it is solemn and somewhat mournful to think that three-fourths of existence are past already. Within the last few months I have got a pair of spectacles, and the smaller kinds of print I cannot read without them. Other tokens of on-coming old age will follow; indeed, they have come already. The figurative language I was once so fond of, I have nearly lost all liking for, and if I were following my own bent in preaching, it would be sober, explanatory, unimpassioned. Ambition has given place to indolence, and the grand projects with which I used to cheat myself I have ceased to cherish. Sydney Smith beguiled his lazy horse into a quicker pace by fastening a sieve of oats to a pole a little in advance of the creature’s nose; and through many a dreary day of calls and committees, and dry as dust documents, have I been carried by the hope that if I could only get through them, I might lawfully commence the Magnum Opus, Christian Ethics, The Life of Erasmus, A Mind, and what to maJce of it. But now the corn and beans are rattled in vain, and there is no make-believe in the wisp of clover. Reports, circulars, business letters, forty or fifty a week, I write resignedly, and in the usual dull decent fashion in which such things should be done, and so shall continue till this hand forgets its cunning.
“As far as extensive or abiding service goes, and as regards any fitting memorial of my own tastes and pursuits, the opportunity is gone, and in the regrets of this moment I fear there is quite as much of mortified vanity as of the more appropriate feeling. But when I advert to that work of the ministiy, which was my calling, and such a high one, and when I think of my own walk through the midst of men, I see that my life has been a continual shortcoming. No worthy motive, no deed out-and-out well done, recurs to my comfort; and were it not that the possibility of these lines being read by others is a temptation to voluntary humility, I might enumerate many sins which did easily beset me, some of which seem only to have strengthened with the years. But whosoever may read these lines, I desire to record as my only comfort the truth which I have proclaimed to others. I believe in the forgiveness of sins. I believe in the mercy of God, and in the exhaustless efficacy of the great Atonement; and although it is difficult to understand how such earthliness can be made at home in heaven, yet moments of a happier experience sometimes enable me to hope for a sphere where God’s service will be the true self-indulgence — when in God’s purest light there will be nothing to conceal; where, in the superiority of others to one’s-self, will be nothing to awaken detraction or envy; where love will be pure and gratitude permanent, and amidst just men made perfect, virtues may evolve of which at present I do not see so much as the germ, and evils pass away so old and inveterate that I do not remember their beginning.
“life has been full of God’s goodness. A kinder mother, a father of loftier worth and nobler ways of thinking, no one ever had. The first years at college were desultory, but the whole were happy. Coming to Regent Square, if it was an empty church, it was a noble building, and one known by name to Scotchmen and others; and there were rare men in its Session. Mr. Nisbet’s ardour was very animating; there never was a man at once so sagacious and so tender-hearted as William Hamilton; Mr. Gillespie and others were men of large intelligence and public spirit; and without much shrewdness of my own, I have usually been able to see what is wrong and right when propounded by others. A congregation has gathered round me, not such as frequent the popular preacher, but one which I prefer, comprising many interesting and right-hearted young men, many serious and attentive hearers, and not a few of the most delightful and congenial friends. To crown all, I have such a home as I scarcely thought could be reahzed in a world of sin and sorrow. Children of various dispositions, but only made more interesting by their distinct individuality, all loving and all promising; and a dear partner, God’s best earthly gift, whose only fault is that excessive aflfection which may lead to overmuch sorrow.”
“48 EusTox Square, Dec. 9, 1865. “After ten weeks’ nursing we obtained a hesitating authorisation from the doctor, and determined to try the removal home of our patient. With the spinal injuries he has sustained, the prospect was very formidable; but through the kindness of Mr. Eussell everything was done to complete and make comfortable the invalid carriage, which we had ordered from Euston Square, and, over and above, Mr. Johnstone had constructed a spring mattress, which could be also used as a litter or stretcher in carrying him from the house to the train. It was on Wednesday morning, the 6th, that the experiment was to be made. Everybody was early astir, and in the lobby and all the rooms of Quarter, the fires had been kept on all night. At seven, when we set forth, the short mid-winter day had not begun to dawn. Mrs. Strong and the servants, all wishing us good speed, yet looking very sad, stood outside the door, and were soon lost in the darkness: and as the porters carried their living freight down the avenue, and ]Iiss Margaret and William Crombie walked on either side, I could not help feeling what a much sadder procession it might have been. Great heaps of fallen leaves lay rotting on the path, which, when we first arrived, was sultry with sunshine; and from the grass fields the picturesque oxen, black, brown, dun, and dappled had been removed for fear of the rinderpest. It was a strange sight when we opened the Ingleston station — a passenger carriage, where none such had ever been before, an omnibus in the field beside it, both made visible by their own lamps, and the furnace light of the neighbouring colliery, and a few scarcely discernible figures awaiting our approach in silence. A grimy collier, who, without speaking a word, came forward to help into the carriage our mysterious burden, asked in a whisper, ‘How long has he been dead? ‘This most difiicult part of the transit was safely effected, and in sixteen hours we were home. Blessings on the dear friends who have done all that the most devoted kindness could do to brighten this sojourn. And blessed be the Lord who has brought back the exiles, and who keeps our company still unbroken. What a strange thing is emotion, and how little we can count
554 “forget not all hts benefits.”
upon ourselves! After having had to face the possibility of leaving James and his mother, and the whole household, the entire winter in Scotland, not to speak of a sadder alternative to which we could not shut our eyes, I should have expected that “Wednesday would have been a day of great elation and excitement; but beyond the sober certainty, and a quiet thankfulness, there was nothing of that restless joy or overflowing gratitude which ought to have been. And when, at the Euston teiminus, the Watsons, and Mr. Johnstone, and Mr. Hill, and others, came round us on the platform, instead of falling on their necks and weeping, I do believe it was less ardent than our usual meeting. Fatigue might have something to do with it, but it looks as if, after a long pressure or weight — a ten weeks’ tension — the mind lost something of its spring; and even when the burden is taken off; it does not necessarily rebound at once to its former level. Indeed, acute feeling or excited emotion of any kind is seldom of long continuance.”^
1 A note addressed at a subsequent date to Mr. D. Maclagan, on the occasion of his leaving London to settle in Edinburgh, reveals incidentally the vivid brotherly love that subsisted between him and his fellow-workers. Mr. Maclagan was associated with him especially in the church-building and debtextinction movement: —
“Jiihj 31, 1866.
“Mt dear Mr. Maclagan, — Your abode in London has been a great lift to the good cause in England, and although we have no longer amongst tis your wise counsels, and your wonderful power of working, the good impulse will go on, and it is very pleasant to know that we have in EdinTmrgh such a friend and ally. I sometimes wish that all the leaders of opinion in Scotland could sojourn here for a time: — Not that England has much to give to Scotland religiously, far less ecclesiastically; but I do not see how Presbyterianism can ever become oecumenical without taking more into account the tastes and temperaments of different nations. One good result of your change, I trust, may be improvement to the health of Mrs.. Maclagan. Please to give her my kind regards. The Lord be with you and yours, and bless you more and more. Believe me ever yours most truly, James Hamilton.”