Appendix III: Letters from India

To THE REv. A. A. BONAR.

‘22, CHOWRINGHEE ROAD, CALCUTTA,
; 15th Fune 1853.

‘ My VERY DEAR ANDREW, — I was reading at family worship this morning the chapter that speaks of Ahimaaz and Cushi, and I told our friends here how a sight of your handwriting was always to me like a sight of Ahimaaz. Is this the only sight I am to have till we meet one another before the Lord? You are dearer to me than ever, and oftener in my thoughts, and my heart warms at every remembrance. I suppose Lizzie has let you know some of the occurrences of my voyage. Save a few days of severe illness between Aden and Ceylon, it was a very happy time; and I never look back to it without thankfulness. Unfortunately I could not land at Madras, being too weak, though fast recovering. And now for Calcutta. Asa city, it exceeds in magnificence any idea I could have formed. The largeness and manifold comfort of the houses; the number, variety, and richness of the equipages; the multitudes of attendants; and the noble plain, along one side of which runs Chowringhee, where I am living, and am to live; on another side the fort, government house, etc.; and on a third, the broad rapid Ganges, covered with large ships from all countries, forms quite a dazzling and overawing scene of Eastern magnificence. I do not find the heat particularly trying. I rise soon after four, and walk a little on the plain, then home before the sun rises; get a cup of tea, read, write with fuller energy than at home; am shaved, bathe, dress; and breakfast at nine. Atten I get into my garree, a very handsome affair, with coachman, harkaru or messenger on the box, and a nice-looking syce, or tiger, behind, and visit from ten to two. This is quite a novelty. I go with my Bible in my hand, read and pray; go to the offices and warehouses of the young men, read and pray, and hear a little of their state of mind, and enjoy it vastly. They seem so astonished at the idea of my seeking them out, and tell me affecting stories of the sad consequences of the absolute neglect of pastoral work in all denominations. You could not easily believe the warmth of affection and fulness of joy with which they welcome the manifestation of ministerial love and concern for their welfare. If I am spared, and enabled to go on, there must be a revolution in this matter by and by, and I shall not have come in vain. There is a great increase in Sabbath attendance, prayer-meetings, and considerable numbers beginning to ask me about becoming members of the church — I mean communicants. I do trust there is a softening and expectation. I was admitted on Sabbath last, and on Monday evening we had a very solemn prayer-meeting for a blessing. Dear Fordyce closed it in a most touching, refreshing way. He has passed through revival times; and how marked is the difference between such and those who have never witnessed anything of the kind! Ihave had no care, nor fear, nor sadness of any kind since I came, till to-day — the anniversary of my dear Rue’s departure. It is curious that, when I went to visit a large hospital for Europeans, which I mean to do once a week, the first object I saw was a young widow in great affliction for the death of her husband, the chief officer of one of the large ships in the river. I had seen him the week before, and hoped to find him convalescent. This a little tried me; but I am better, having just returned from the weekly prayer-meeting, which I felt strengthening and refreshing. Ewart, Fordyce, and Morgan of the Parental Institution are the men I shall cling to. We seem already of one heart. The Institution is really a noble thing; and the crowds of fine, intelligent, hearty lads, are greedy for information, and every way accessible. I never feel so happy as in the midst of them, starting with the subject of their studies, and then getting to the truth, and appealing to heart and conscience. How far this may please our scholastics, I do not know, and desire to wait 2F ed

on God. I am hinting a slight fear, which may be groundless, and Andrew will only mention it to our Lord. I do think the door is open, and that some crisis is at hand if there were hearty, united, unjealous working. A restraint on us is the necessity of keeping the young converts ex famille, so that great prosperity would be an alarming thing, — many new mouths, and nowhere to put them, and nothing to feed them with. This is a trial at present. But I think it should not be. Prejudice is breaking fast, and by and by parents will acquiesce in their Christian children continuing to reside under their roof. Also, situations in common life will open up more frequently for the converts, and only the choice of them will look to the ministry. There is a large number of institutions connected with the different religious bodies, with some of which I am already getting acquainted. Mrs. Ewart has a very important school for native girls. Like her husband, she is one of the excellent of the earth, most devoted, laborious, thankfully abounding in the work of the Lord, and yet little known. Mrs. Hoeberlin, one of my people, has a school for higherclass native girls; she is an experienced Christian, but restrained by the constitution of her school. JI have met with almost all the missionaries and mission ministers. We have a monthly prayer-meeting, and then a meeting for praye., breakfast, and conference next morning, in one another’s houses. I think I shall like it. Perhaps I would desiderate more fervour, spirituality, and aggressiveness; but I do not yet know the effect of this climate. The old bishop keeps a good many nice men about Calcutta, and they have welcomed me with great kindness. They are doing real good here; but, alas, what a scattering if a Puseyite gets the see! I am picking up a little Hindostanee, having begun to try from the first day, and so I jabber a little. I am interested in the domestic servants, they are so kind, so watchful of our comfort, and yet I fear the vast deep of deceit, sloth, and want of natural affection is underneath their gentle demeanour. I have had some curious little talks. Also I am much interested in the East

Indians, and hope to contrive some way of reaching them. There is no city mission yet in action in Calcutta, though they have been long talking and contriving. I may, perhaps, be able to get a congregational one set agoing very soon, and so give the example. But the climate is a great hindrance, and also the long business hours, and the severity of the application to their work, which makes those who would be willing to take interest in such things quite jaded before evening, so that they are fit for nothing but to drive about the plain, or on the strand. Your poor friend must plead guilty as to this, for every night I drive out for an hour or more. But, you know, “Wait on the Lord, be of good courage.”

‘What I miss in the missionaries, I see, is that glow and warmth and stirring of spirit you see in Paul to the very end. May I live fast and get an early grave, if one must, after a time, thus cool down! But good-bye, dearest A. How kind is the Lord to give me one I love so much! Write to Horace and John and James, and tell them that my heart is often with them. Remember me to the little prayer-meeting, Wilson, W. Greig, M‘Donald, Bain, and especially to my brethren of the Presbytery. I shall write to Mr. Gray soon. Say to him that I don’t shirk the yoke here, but am taking my place at the different committees, and that kind of work. At home there were so many better able than I, that I thought I might stay away; but I owe a duty here to the church, whose only ministerial representative I am, and so take up the cross, and my proper share in these public matters. Warmest love to I., and the infantry. I am six weeks or more behind the flow of events, and know not private or public affairs. — Believe me, your very affectionate brother, ‘JOHN MILNE,’

To Rev. A. A. BONAR.
‘1, SOUTH COLLINGA STREET,
CALCUTTA, 16¢2 Fan. 1854.

‘My VERY DEAR ANDREW, — Did I write as often as I

fondly think of you, many a letter would you get; but proe crastination prevails here as at home, and our doings are seldom up to our wishings and intendings. I got your very welcome letter, as also a briefer but welcome one from Horace. Will you thank him for it, and say that I shall write soon? for B. loves you both as much-as I do, and, I dare say, if she were at home, would be a greater favourite, for you and she have an inner character in common, into which I have not yet been able to penetrate. I dare say you will smile, and say, Wait awhile; you are’in good company. Truly one feels here the need of some great evolution of divine power; for all that our missions are doing, seems like a handful of men labouring to level the Alps. But “Thou shalt arise, and mercy yet.” I am fully and variously employed, and am about as happy as I can expect to be in such a world, and with such a body of sin and death. My wife and I try to hold up as high a standard as we can of spirituality, devotedness, and consistency. Pray for us, dearest brother, that we may be upheld and prospered. A holy, stedfast life will tell in time, even in the most worldly place, and we shall gather about us those who fear the Lord. Ask my sister Polly some day, and she will tell you what are the desires of my heart in reference to this place; and I do hope to see them realized ere I die. But I am only writing a little chit, just to keep up brotherhood, so I will not enter into details. I should like to hear what is doing at home. I see you gave the series of lectures you spoke of; I like the subjects. Some one sent me a copy of the British Messenger, from which I saw that the Lord appeared to be visiting both Collace and Blairgowrie. Tell me all about this. I have just been writing to W. Burns. I hear of him occasicnally from people who see him as they visit China. Of course my heart has been often with him since I became his so near neighbour. What changes seem to be on the wheels for that great land! and what a noble field for dear William, after all his humble, patient, and laborious waiting! eis a good Master, as you well know, and we never have cause to regret any effort that we make in His service. Let us be strong, and of good couros age. Yet I think I often feel like Job, “I would not live alway.” There is little to desire or expect on earth except times of refreshing, or, as you and my little Puss beside me would say, waiting, like Simeon, to see the Lord’s salvation. Tell me about Collace, and Perth, and the doings in the Presbytery, and what new-work you are bringing out, for you are never idle. How pleasant it is to look back on the days that are past, and to think of the time when we shall meet in the presence of the Lord, unchanged, except that all flaws and defects will then be gone! B. joins in love to her sister Isabella. Tell us of the children. My love to all at York Place, Kelso, Greenock, and London. — Believe me, very affectionately yours, ‘JOHN MILNE.’

TO THE SAME.
‘24, RUSSELL STREET, CALCUTTA,
26th October 1856.

‘Mv VERY DEAR ANDREW, — I was favoured, through Bombay, with your ever welcome letter, which made me remember many things far from these Hoogly banks and sun-scorched plains. If through grace I am preserved and carried through to meet you on the mountain of myrrh and the hill of frankincense, do you think memory will go back, as 1 find it does now, to scenes gone by? I still remember our first meeting in the old Presbytery, and where I was sitting when you came in and shook hands; and then R. M‘Cheyne and you coming in to me at 14, Rose Terrace, and laughing at my carte blanche to Miss to collect a staff of lady Sabbath-school teachers; and then our next meeting in the vestry of Kinnoul Street Church at the scaling of the forenoon meeting, where you ministered to the wounded and grieved in spirit; and then in the evening “he went on his way rejoicing” [the text] in St. Leonard’s, when for the first time it was lighted up with gas; but the light from the heavenly city was gathering many in. Shall we ever see these days again? Nothing but a work of this kind

454 LIFE OF REV. ¥OHN MILNE.

can raise up a true church here, and our converts have not the life, or fire, or sense of sin, and spiritual experience that are needful in those who would be the light and leaven to their fellow-men. There is a tameness and want of enterprise, and an absence of anything like spontaneous, heaven-wrought desire and effort for the salvation of men. I only know of one, Shib Chunda, who has something of what one would like in those who are the hope of India. Everything here seems to stop and come to a stand. We catch the spirit of the country, get into ruts, and round and round we go ina round of perfunctory duty. We would need a constant influx of fresh men, relay after relay, to keep the machinery in motion, acting and enlarging. Yet you must not fancy that I regret coming ‘here. I am never permitted to do so, though the heart often thinks of former opportunities, and privileges, and happy fellowships. I feel that I have a place and work; and, as time passes, the Lord, I believe, will enlarge them. I think, dearest A., that our system of keeping such numbers of the best and holiest of the earth accumulated in one spot is not according to the design of Him who said at His first creation, “Replenish and subdue it;” and at the setting up of His second creation, “‘ Go ye into all the world.” Should we not be a little jealous of ourselves on this point, lest we close our eyes to the pointing of the Lord’s finger? We know that all our predilections are in favour of home; this is our rest, here we will stay; and even the multitudes who come here in civil, military, or mercantile occupations, come only as birds of passage, and live as such, always looking forward to their return as the one great end and joy of existence. So I hope there will be a watchful eye and listening ear, and a standing on the tower in the library at Collace, and a saying, “Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?” and a “Lord, send me;” and then some day I will be calling for the creels, and the tent will be unfixed, and following the pillar. You may come hitherward, and, you know, B. and I will welcome you, and share and share alike. What say you to this? Don’t forget to bring old Trusty with you. I should like to see his sonsy face again. ‘Thanks for all your kindness in providing me with healthful pabulum. I have more time for reading here, but fear I don’t make all the use of it I might. I saw, lately, Bishop Smith from China. I was interested in him from some of his papers on late movements. He knows W. Burns, and admires him. He still looks hopefully on the Insurrectionists, and. is strongly opposed to the Imperialists. He says the Jesuits are at work to prop up the old empire, because they dread the idea of Bible-readers and iconoclasts getting into power. He seems a good, devoted man, and not very churchy; but he is in feeble health, and I should hardly look for any very bold, energetic course of action from him. He said they were taunted often with their cowardice in keeping to the coast, instead of going, like the Popish missionaries, into the interior. Put, he said, we cannot tell lies like them, masquerade like them, and be smuggled through the cordons as they are. I also met the new Bishop of Labuan, Macdougall. I fancy he is a friend of Patrick’s, the professor, for he asked about Auld Reekie. I should think he was not a spiritual man, but he is full of energy, animal spirits, health and strength, a great friend and admirer of — , with whom he lives, free from Churchism, and having many qualities and gifts to fit him for being a breaker up of the way. He thinks Borneo will soon have a story of its own, and be a light of that Archipelago. I liked him, and I hope to see him again ere he goes. Good-bye, dearest A. I think God does not leave Himself

without a witness. Now and then He works by me here. But it is only a day of small things. 1 expect to have all the news of the manse next mail from B., for she was coming to you again. I fear Oban has done her no good. Warmest love to I. and the infantry, and the elders and deacons and Sabbath-school teachers. Tell them Collace is a household word here. Remember to Horace, John, James, and William, I wish B. could meet them in London. I think it probable she will winter there. Remember me at Glendoick. Iowea letter, and will not forget. Thanks for remembrance at the monthly meetings. Keep a seat vacant for me, and I shall be with you in spirit, perhaps some day in body again. — Yours ever very affectionately, ‘JOHN MILNE.’

TO THE SAME.

“4, RUSSEL STREET, 72 March 1857.

‘My VERY DEAR ANDREW, — This paper has been folded up in its envelope for nearly a month, for I had reckoned on being able to write sooner. But I know that you are clement, and will bear long with brother John, who has still, as of old, too many abortive purposes to mourn over. The two young men have found their way to the Calcutta Baboo, though theirs has been a hair-breadth escape. They came under charge of Samochan Mookerjee, who embarked in the Duke of Wellington. She was an old ship, heavy laden with iron-work for the railway; and in a storm which they met at the mouth of the Bay of Bengal, the vessel stranded, her seams opened, and the crew had to take to their boats. Samochan put on his best clothes, putting your packet into one of the pockets, and they tossed about the ocean till some ships picked up first oné boat and then another, and Samochan was carried to Singapore, then Moulmein, and at last arrived here. My two friends, who are admirably like the originals, are now framed and hung up veside old M*‘Donald, preaching in the tent at the Ferintosh communion. Thanks for the mindfulness which has given me a starting-point for many a pleasant backward, and sometimes forward thought. Thanks for all the other nice things, and, above all, for the warm love Collace Manse bears to my far-off wanderer. Keach and his accompaniments, a goodly store, has not yet made his appearance, and I am a little afraid that he may have gone to the bottom in the Duke of Wellington. I have made inquiry of the consignees, who say there was no entry in the ship’s manifest, which was brought from the wreck. B. and I keep up our journalizing, and our letters reach from thirty to forty or forty-four pages; and she tells me now and then of a book from you, and a letter from Isabella. By the way, do our two erudite help-mates reciprocate in alternate Hebrew and Greek? In a specimen of elegant Grecian orthography, which came lately from Hastings, I thought I could recognise the style of the learned clerk of Collace. Does not one of Shakspeare’s heroes somewhere say, “’We are now past the noontide [winter] of our discontent?” and so, since we began the new year, I have been feeling that we have crossed the meridian of our exile, and are now, like Ovid’s charioteer, galloping down to the western goal But there is some tough work before us yet. We have just entered on what seems likely to be a very hot season, and you can little conceive the trial of sweltering days and restless nights, and then the rains, with their dreary dampness and hindrance to our meetings. These try me most; but the promise is, “When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee, and through the fires.” I feel it a blessing that India is not my earthly all; that I have dear remembered friends at home to whom my heart so often turns. And yet, even here, 1 am meeting with not a few, with whom I shall meet if I am privileged to enter the rest that remains. There are many dear, devoted, holy souls here, in the world, but not of the world, whose calling was usually very striking, and whose onward course has been stedfast, unquestionable, and beneficent. There is a ceaseless flux and reflux here, which brings all kinds of people about us. It is the gate of the East and West, and there is a constant coming and going; and somehow the Lord brings me into acquaintance with very many of His dear ones. Were I at your fireside, I could tell you not a few interesting stories of grace. And the Lord in mercy has given me some jewels here. I feel that I have not come here for nought. Pray for me, dearest A., for I am still the unturned cake; but yet, amid not a little to try and humble, I often feel, in the review, nothing but praise and thanksgiving to a gracious, merciful Lord. As one said

when she was departing, we shall all find voices when we get to the mountains of myrrh and the hill of franka ET incense, By the way, I have not got hold of your spikenard yet; but I am seeking after it, and hope to send you some. I have written through a godly man, Colonel Smith, to Madras, to see if it can be got there. Dr. Duff is with us, and wonderfully well. He came ona Saturday night, and next morning preached for me, on “The righteousness of God,” a very noble experimental sermon, full of power and unction. He is laying himself out in all directions, and will, I trust, be a great blessing. At the conference of missionaries last Tuesday, he gave out this question, “Whatsoever ye do, in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus” — what principles does this embody? and how far are they at present carried out by professing Christians? I love him very much, and I think the feeling is reciprocal. I have not forgotten, I hope, the lesson I had to learn seventeen years ago, and would be willing to twinkle while a brother shines. We have got our new Governor-General, Lord Canning. No one knows what he will be; but if he seeks grace and wisdom from on high, he has a noble field before him. Lord Dalhousie went last night about five. An hour before he sent me a letter, written, he says, in the midst of hurry, with 200 rupees for the mission. On a former occasion he gave me 500; but would not then give me his name, being tied up by state considerations. Poor India! Many are the obstacles to her regeneration. But the Lord is gathering in

one and another there, and perhaps this is all that He intends

till the days of restitution. Dearest A., my heart is pouring out in me as I think of former days; but, as I was reading in Jeremiah to-day, perhaps we may yet rejoice together even on earth. So Horace has actually cut his moorings and become a rolling stone! The proverb will for once find an exception; for, doubtless, he will bring many notes with him, and pictures too. I heard of him at Malta and Cairo. Love to I., and the bairns, and to all friends. — Yours very affectionately,

‘JOHN MILNgE,’

TO THE SAME,

*Catcuttra, December 20, 1857.

‘My VERY DEAR ANDREW, — Who is to blame for this long silence? I will plead guilty, and without more ado begin my amendment. My dear wife and her aunt arrived safely nearly three weeks ago, and both wonderfully well. They are now living with me in my lodgings, but we hope -next month to have a home of our own. You and Isabella, quiet, stay-at-home people, cannot fancy what it is to meet again after so long a separation. The pleasure, however, is purchased at so dear a price, that I hope I shall never have to go to the market again for such a commodity. We have had many a pleasant talk about you both, and the infantry, and Collace; and I have felt as if I were once more at home, Thanks for all your brotherly kindness to my dear wanderer. It is pleasant to me that my dearest friends have become equally dear to her. How strange the scattering which a few years have made! I saw ina Perth paper sent me, the account of the Presbytery proceedings; and now I see by the Watness that you are fairly settled at Finnieston. I know the place quite well. There was once a work of God there, in which I remember I was interested at the time, and now it will become to me a Kebla, where heart and mind will often turn. The Lord be very abundantly with you in this new part of the valley to which He has taken you. “To the poor the gospel is preached,” marked out the Elder Brother, and, I suppose, still marks out those who come nearest to Him in spirit and character. Keep a deacon’s place for me, and if B. and I are driven out of this trying land, we will come and cast in our lot and labour with you. I think I growingly see that place and circumstance, and frames and feelings, are but very secondary things, and that God in Christ, God in covenant, is our all in all. Faith, direct faith, alone will make us walk upward and carry us through. The Lord has a people here, scattered up and down, and some of them are choice Christians, simple, scriptural, and devoted. Living often alone, and forming their opinions for themselves, they are often what we should call odd, and do not keep step with our train-bands at home. I doubt if some of my dearest friends would pass muster with and some others; but they are true men for all that, and walk with God. The Lord is adding to the number of His people in this land, now one and now another, and this comforts and encourages me. Pray for B. and me, that the word of the Lord may have free course. We doa good deal in the way of correspondence, getting acquainted with young men as they pass through, and then following them by letter to their distant and often isolated stations. In this way there isa large and open door. I hope to move about more than I have done. During the late rains, I went up as far as Benares, and thus saw a good deal of the country, and made many pleasant acquaintances. It is a land made up of. many different tribes and people, in very different states of civilisation, It strikes me that we have committed an error in our missionary work, in beginning with the more learned and conceited, and passing by the simple, outlying tribes, who are more ready to receive and obey the truth. I cannot say I see my way to any large work of conversion here in Bengal. Education is extending in Calcutta and some of the chief towns; but it is only valued as the means of obtaining a better livelihood, and does not usually make them more favourable to the gospel. Without the full assurance that God’s counsel will stand, and that in His own time-and way He will bring it to pass, it would be unspeakably sad to live among these perishing millions, and see how little has been done, or apparently can be done for their deliverance. You see in all this only the fulfilment of Isaiah xxvi. 17-19. By the way, dear A., how will you get

on among these western men? Won’t you be like a turtle living alone, and every one giving you a peck? But good-bye. Warmest love to Isabella, Horace, James, John, and all friends. I shall leave B. to add a P.S. — Yours ever very affectionately, ‘JOHN MILN&,’

To THE SAME.

‘4, RUSSEL STREET, 22d August.

‘My DEAR ANDREW, — You will be glad to hear that, amid all the dangers and horrors that have been occurring around us, we are still safe and well. You, at a distance, can form little idea of the state of this country. You have read of the feeling of insecurity which people experience amid a succession of terrific earthquakes. Just such is the feeling here. We are encompassed on every side with the natives, and our old secure confidence in them has been completely destroyed, so that we cannot tell when or from what quarter death may come. I cannot help seeing in all this a righteous retribution. We have been unfaithful to God and His truth; we have fraternized with error, and have protected it; we have, as it were, entered into a compact with the Prince of Darkness that, if he will preserve our dominions, we will do what we can to preserve his. And now God has risen in anger, and the reed on which we leaned has broken, and pierced us through. We have had several panics here in Calcutta, and, at times, have been in real and imminent danger; but the Lord has graciously interposed to arrest or avert the threatened blow. Perhaps He wished to keep Calcutta as a place of refuge for His many destitute and fugitive ones, who have been flocking in from all quarters. The enemy still have possession of the country, and we have only a few beleaguered places here and there, some of which, we fear, will fall ere they can be relieved, and so suffer the fate of Futteyghur and Cawnpore. But I do not think the Lord means to drive us out. He is chastening us sore, but He will not give us over to death. I would fain hope that a stronger and more Christian government will take the place of that which is passing away. A revolution is a sharp and sore remedy, but it is a thorough one, and does in a day the work of a century. Pray for us that better days may dawn on India, and pray for us also that while we remain, we may be kept and piessed. God is driving in the ploughshare wide and deep;

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AG LIFE OF REV. JOHN MILNE.

and we have abundant opportunity of ministering to the sorrowful, the destitute, and broken-hearted. Perhaps the Lord will give us a harvest. Pray for this. I have lost many friends, and some, I trust, spiritual children, in these sad calamities. I preach under military protection, — soldiers, volunteers, and cannon are at the side of the church, which is situated in the most thoroughly Mohammedan district, How little mere external means can do! At first one is solemnized, then they grow accustomed, and then feel as if they could not live without the excitement of these extraordinary events. Providence, even in its strangest evolutions, is but a handmaid. It is the Lord that adds to the Church such as shall be saved. Yet I trust that He will appear at this time, and build up Zion. B. is not strong, but she struggles on, and does a good deal with her pen in the way of correspondence. The Greek also flourishes, and you may look for a nice edition of the xeuwn d:ebnxn with choice comments. United love to I. and all friends. — Yours, very affectionately,

‘JOHN MILNE’

To REv. Dr. BoNaR. ™

‘CALCUTTA, 4th August 1853.

‘MY VERY DEAR HoRACE, — I know I need not to tell you how often my heart has been turning to you since I have been “alone in the world,” and yet “not alone.” I have seen much of our Lord’s mindfulness and faithfulness since I left our common earthly home. But for a rather sharp, though short feverish attack, which I rather think I brought upon myself by roaming about on foot in Alexandria and Cairo, I might almost say that the voyage was, all through, a kind of pleasure excursion. I found it a season and opportunity of active usefulness, and look back upon it with thankfulness. Since I came here I have met with not a little to encourage. My people are kind, cordial, and united; and there is an esprit de corps springing up. They are also increasing, and perhaps there are some quickenings and touchings of the heart. If, through your sympathy and prayers at home, I continue to maintain spirituality, liveliness, and a holy activity, I cannot doubt but that I shall be used here. I see already many ways in which, if I were a really holy, wise, and earnest man of God, I might be greatly useful in gathering and building up a true church, in helping the passers-by, and those who are at a disadvantage in the out-stations; and perhaps also in quickening my brethren around me, who, from the effects of this sad climate, and our engrossment in the routine of translation and educationwork, may have forgotten Paul’s and Martyn’s rule, “I count all things loss,” and so have suffered damage in their spirituality. I rather think if I had known, as I now do, the extent and importance of the work, I should have shrunk from coming here; but, you know, “1 will lead the blind in a way that they know not,” and so I think it has been with me all through this affair. I must set my heart to my work. I must set my heart to my work, and wait on Him who gives power to the faint, and who can make my hands sufficient. I found pleasant the other morning, “Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings;” and just now I have been reading, and I have been quickened with this word — “All filled with the Holy Ghost.” It is just what is needed here, where I think they look too much at the stone on the grave’s mouth, and are, perhaps, too much enslaved by human plans and policy. Oh for the liberty of the Spirit! the noble daring and uncalculatingness of those who, in seeing Him who is invisible, can see nothing else. Fordyce is a great comfort to me, so is Morgan. You have some who love and follow you here. I have lived since I came mostly with the Nicolsons, one of my elders’ families. Miss Nicolson, I find, is one of you; and I was amused to find that she was quite afraid of me, for she thought I was a regular David Brown man. Dear Horace knows how far I am from that, though not just quite so far as he would like, and sometimes hopes to see me. It seems our friend — — of had written to the missionary, giving a kind of bird’s-eye view of their future minister; among other things he said this: “He is the friend of the Bonars; he is zo millenarian.” Mrs. Ewart, the wife of our best missionary, and herself the carrier on of an important female school, is also at one with you. We have a monthly missionary conference made up from all the bodies. Our question on Tuesday was, “Is the Church prepared for a large work of Gentile conversion?” Mr. Smith opened. He rather ran down the Church at home, and fell foul of you millenarians. You know I always defend you, and so I did. Also, I said, the Church at home will rise to the occasion, and will rejoice at a work of God here; but are you prepared? And I fear I was somewhat sharp and warm. Fordyce was grave, and following, took up the cause of his friends. It was an animated discussion. At length Mr. Cuthbert, secretary to the Church

Missionary Society, and a man I greatly like, avowed himself a millenarian, and Smith and he had a short conversation on the subject. I really hope for good here. I wish I had the power of clairvoyance — to see you and be seen by you, in my new and strange abode. I walk a good deal on the roof, morning and night, looking out on a noble plain, the Corso of Calcutta, and as crowded and animated in the evening as Hyde Park in the season; for every one here has a carriage. Were it not that 1 am so far away from you, and that I suffer sad torture from a thing called Gurmee, or prickly heat, just like wearing the shirt of Nessus, I suppose I should be bound in truth to say that I am very much at home, and like my work. This same prickly heat, it seems, arises from an over-robust and healthy constitution that will not succumb to the climate and prostrate itself in the seasoning fever. So you may judge of the amount of sympathy which my torments call for. But it is, dear Horace, a sad climate; and you must pray for me that, till my work is done, I may be borne up in body and spirit. My love to Mrs. Bonar and my well-remembered young friend; also to Collace, Greenock, and York Place!

The old lady, — is she well? How ripe in years and grace !1 — Believe me, dearest Horace, your ever affectionate brother, ‘JOHN MILNE.’

TO HIS SISTER-IN-LAW, Miss STUART.

‘CALCUTTA, 17th October 1853.

‘My DEAREST L1zzIE, — Many thanks for your ever welcome letter, for I can heartily respond to you, and say, that when the letters come, the first that always catches my eye and thrills my heart, is the one that says, “I am from Lizzie.” ‘You will see that I have had some ongoings since I last wrote, and I can truly say that word is true, “Yea, what is good the Lord will give.” Your new sister’s heart and mine seem strangely attuned to one another. How blessed it is to be one in Christ, and one in His work! ‘Our prospects of happiness and usefulness seem bright; and even if the Lord should see fit to appoint otherwise, yet it is good to have such a season as we are enjoying together to look to. I wish you and Polly would come and see us. I think the house would, in many respects, remind you of Leonard Bank, for the same lady-like taste and elegance govern here as there. Though very different from our house at home, you would find it very comfortable. I like the openness all around, which lets the air sweep through; and the Purdahs, or hangings which form the doors between the rooms, often remind me of the pictures in the Arabian Nights, and I look up expecting to see a corner lifted and a face looking in. In the compound behind is a quantity of poultry, and a huge black goat which gives delicious milk for tea. I think B. proposes having another, so that we shall have quite

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1 My beloved and honoured mother, to whose calm faith and holy life a family of seven sons and four daughters (the greater part now with the Lord) owe so much. She fell asleep in Jesus, at the age of eighty-one, on the 29th of August 1854.

2G a farmyard. You would be amused with the number of ser: wants, and how each contrives to keep to his own work.... I think I should have liked a little stroll with you on Rothesay shores. It is sweetly embalmed in my memory; and even the Kyles, the lochs, and the straits beyond, all the way to Oban, only make me think how our God leads the blind in a way that they know not. It is a complete change, a new life; and yet I think I am happier and better than I should have been at home. The modes of operation here are different, and there is little for sense to rest on; but it is a vast field, full of the seeds of great events, and I am trying to help on the harvest. I feel that I am growingly finding my feet, that doors of usefulness in various directions open, and God gives me now usually grace to hope and wait. Again you know, “Yea, what is good — .” He isa rewarder of them who diligently seek Him. How good it is to get hold of a principle that will never fail us, and on which we can rest for time and eternity! Your favourite word, my little sister, has often comforted me when I was ready to faint; and now I put to a new seal.

‘ Half-past Five — — At this hour last week we were entering our house for the first time. It has been a very happy week, and we have had much joy in one another, and still more in the Lord. I do feel that He has been with us in reading, in prayer, in converse, and I feel that godliness is profitable for the life that now is... . — Remember us in prayer, and believe me, my dearest L., ever most affectionately yours,

‘JOHN MILNE.’

TO THE SAME.

‘1, SOUTH COLLINGA STREET, CALCUTTA,
2d December 1853.

‘My DEAREST LIZZIE, — This is Friday morning, and we have had our little meeting from ten to eleven. The passage was Matt. xxv. 36-46; and, after speaking a little, we read your favourite “Gethsemane.” ... 1 feel that I am in my place here. I amhalf-ashamed of the dark views I took a little while ago; but you know your brother, and would not be surprised. I think God is with us, and so everything prospers, and our peace flows as a river. The congregation grows, and will in a little while, I trust, be quite a new one, both in members and in the spirit of its members. ‘The Sabbath school has become very large. B. and I always move about a little, calling at the door here and there before the evening drive, and so we are getting quite known in the district round the church. The children come running to the carriage, or gather round me, as I walk of an evening. Everywhere we have people about us here, often passers-by, and we try to make our house Bethel. Remember us, my little one, that we may be enabled, in all our walk and conversation, to show how holy and happy, God can make poor sinful worms when He is pleased to raise them up from the dust. We are always busy, and find the day and week too short. I find the Lord enables me to hold on, with less of the casting down than I almost ever used to suffer, and I do trust that, through the help of your prayers, the Lord will be pleased to use us for good to this land. Somehow I have a hope, and so has B.; and you know, when two agree — . I am going through Genesis at night on Sabbath, and I have reached the birth of Isaac, and the casting out of Hagar. The people seem interested. On Wednesday evening I am going through the Acts, and have just reached Pentecost. I will tell you another time about my young men — European, East Indian, and Hindoo. Surely the Lord is willing to pour out His Spirit, and make the wilderness to prosper. Is not His time at hand? Let us try not to give Him rest. I heartily agree with you in all your longings for usefulness, and for deliverance from self-seeking, self-trust, and self in every form. Why are we not more self-forgetting, self-renouncing, self-loathing? What wrong self does to that loving Lord, and how it grudges and is narrow-hearted to our fellow-men! But I trust there is some progress, and that late events have helped and will help us more. For myself, I feel as if the Lord were showering burning coals upon my head, and bent upon overcoming my vileness by His good. And won’t He do it?) Who can stay His hand? Why do we not remember that He is as resistless in grace as resistless in judgment? He will subdue our corruption. He will cast our sins into the depths of the sea. It is strange how completely the world seems put out of my heart. I seem not to have a thought or care about earthly things. The Lord seems to have realized my idlest dreams, and in every way to have exceeded what seemed my most foolish wishes, so that I seem out of the reach of temptation in that quarter. Aunt Jackson took all these burdens on her, and now B. has taken it up, and I need only give myself to prayer and the ministering of the word. I think I sometimes, for a moment, feel how sweet it would be eternally to delight and rejoice and glory in the Lord! Thanks, many thanks, for your long, most welcome letter.

‘We greatly need to be upheld by prayer, for there are hindrances here which you do not know. But, as you say, all things are possible with Him. It will need great grace to make the Bengalees a zealous, holy, earnest people. There is a languor, carnality, and want of enterprise which are disheartening. But, again, all things are possible. I remember the girl very well. They have been a very unsatisfactory family; but I have long thought the Lord had hold of them. I should like to hear the result of your dealing with her. I shall write to J. C., but not by this mail. Poor fellow! I fear lest that word comes to pass in him, “He who, being often reproved,” etc. Poor Mrs. D.! What a long passage hers has been! but she will reach the end, and enter the wealthy place. Remember me very kindly to her and her husband.... The Episcopalians took offence at my reading and praying there at my first visit. ‘Three of their ministers came making complaint, which I heard of from Mr. Wylie. However, Lizzie knows that her brother will not care much for this. B. and I unfold the banner wherever we go, and my little Psalm Book, which I got from Mrs. Trotter, is always on these occasions in my waistcoat pocket.

‘J am glad you speak of K. I have sent an extract of your letter regarding him to his mother, who will be much gratified. I wish you would write to the girls. I think R a worthy, kind-hearted man. Pray that the Lord may make my being here a blessing to him and his family.

“I see cholera progresses. It is no stranger here. Last Sabbath morning, about 8 o’clock, I got a hasty note from A. B. M‘Intosh, C. Stewart’s cousin, saying that his brother had been seized about 4 o’clock in the morning, the most dangerous part of the twenty-four hours, and was quite despaired of. I hurried off with my sola hat and chatta, not waiting for the carriage, which B. sent after. Above expectation he rallied, and is now better. May you all experience the safety and the comfort of the gist Psalm!

‘Mr. Wylie has told us of Dr. Gordon’s death.. Good-bye, my dearest Lizzie. Love to M., B., H., K,, and all friends — Yours ever very affectionate, ‘JOHN MILNE.’

TO THE SAME.

‘1, SourH CoLLINGA STREET, CALCUTTA,
‘ 30th March 1854.

‘ My DEAREST L1zzIE, — No word as yet of the steamer; but I am at home to-night, and so take time by the forelock, for once. Our hot weather has fairly set in, but as yet I have not found it very trying, as we have had a succession of showers, which has every now and then cooled the air. You would be alarmed at first by our north-westers. The most brilliant lights, then thunder, as if the heavens were crashing to pieces, and all earthly things about to share the convulsion; then an. outburst of wind, and torrents of rain. I have been a little poorly for a day or two; but have kept the house yesterday and to-day, and am better almost again. Barbara and I are sitting together in the little drawing-room; we have had a north-wester, so the room is all shut in. It is about 8 o’clock, and we have had tea, and are set down for the evening. I wish I could give you a bird’s-eye view of our snuggery; or better, I wish I could introduce you to your new sister. Had I been quite well, I should, at this time to-night, have been gone to the house of two of our people, Cameron and Galbraith, where a number of them meet to practise sacred music. Over their work they have a very large room, which is nicely fitted up as a drawing-room, and we sit round the table. One plays on the seraphine, and all the others have their music-books. I begin with prayer, then give out psalms which are to be sung on Sabbath, giving a little explanation, and then, at the end, pray again. It lasts an hour, and I think I shall enjoy it, and find it useful. The telegraph has now been finished up to Agra, and we get news by the way of Bombay before our steamers arrive. We have just heard that war is not yet declared, but that troops are embarking for the East. To-morrow, or next day, we shall get our letters, and hear, I trust, that you are better, and all the rest well.... However, Paul and Peter were satisfied with being servants of Jesus Christ, and so amI, If that dear Lord would arise and plead His own cause, these partition walls which divide Indian society in many sections would melt like snow before the sun, and the many little apartments would become one large room, like Mr. Cameron’s big drawing-room. The Lord is not leaving Himself without a witness near here. He seems to deal with souls here and there, awakening them to concern about eternal things. I trust, as we become better known, we shall hear of these things oftener, and perhaps be used by the Lord in counselling and encouraging these young ones of the flock. Perhaps there is more openness in speaking and writing about these things than at home. When people are worldly here, they are thoroughly so; and consequently, when they begin to reflect, and change their course, the alteration is very marked. Thus far I had written on Thursday night, when I suddenly left off, and went for the first volume of Jonathan Edwards,

Polly’s friend, and read about Mrs. Edwards’ experience to Barbara, who had never heard it. I always enjoy that narrative; it makes me cry, “Restore unto me the joy of Thy salvation.” Oh, how easy it is to triumph over all our ills and sins when God’s grace is shining on us, and He is pouring into our hearts His gracious Spirit!

Did you ever think of it as a Christian duty — “Be filled with the Spirit?” Surely it is a duty; it comes out of the law, “Love the Lord with a/Z thy heart;” and so our whole heart ought to be full of Him. I remember at one of our meetings at Andrew Bonar’s a long inquiry, which came to little, as to what was meant by being “Filled with the Spirit.” Had some praying servant girl come in, she would have smiled at our difficulties; or if the Lord had come in, would He not have said, “Are ye masters in Israel, and know ye not these things?” I think our great hindrance in spiritual growth is want of continuity. We are inconstant, and, after a little tension, we break off like a deceitful bow. After spiritual employment, and perhaps some comfort and light, if we would watch, deny ourselves, and hold fast, we should not be always in poverty, living from hand to mouth as we are.

‘No word of the steamer yet. I think I told you of my nice Arab. Well, I rode about a great deal; but horses here are not like horses at home; they are not so tame and broken in. Also, Arabs never lift their feet; they shovel along, which I don’t like, as I want to daunder about, and think of many things — maybe’ Annat Lodge — instead of taking care of my beast. My good horse, also, was apt to shy and go off in an instant, like an arrow. However, we kept together pretty well, till one morning, when, after bidding salaam to Aunt Jackson, who always walks on the house-tops from five to six o’clock, I was riding smartly off, when a lumbering garree came by, and, ere I knew where I was, my friend went off like a bolt, and, ere I could recover my seat and draw it up, I went clean over its head. You would have laughed to see brother John stretching out first a leg, and then an arm, to ascertain the extent of

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the injury, and then rising and calling to stop the poor animal, lest he should get home riderless. It was sent off and sold, and I am to get a Cabool horse from the hills, which will be sure-footed, and answer my purpose better; for I should like to ride about the lanes of a morning and evening, and make my observations and calls. How many outward mercies and comforts are we surrounded with! and yet these are not a man’s life. “Come unto me, and I will give you rest.” There is no really valuable happiness but that which has this for its foundation. I hope to hear that you have good accounts from the West Indies. Cholera is at work here, and will grow worse as the heat continues and increases. On Monday night I thought for a little that I had got it. Here it is a terrific disease, and is infallibly fatal if not arrested in time. A sudden chill will occasion it. Are we ever to meet on earth? My work and my heart now are here; but I sometimes think I should like to see the old’house once more, and pace up and down my old walks. Who can tell? God’s ways are not as our ways. We may all meet yet under the same roof. And yet how short these meetings are! Let us rather dwell on the eternal meeting in the presence of the Lord.

‘We are labouring on much as usual — sometimes hopeful, and then a little cast down. Barbara, I think, enjoys her hope of Christ’s near appearance. After seeing a little of the sad state of the world, and the manifest inadequacy at present of the existing Church to do almost everything to remedy it, one cannot help feeling that there must be some great change, in order that the faithful promises may be accomplished. The Gentile dispensation, the times of the Gentiles must be near an end; and yet how little has been done, how much once gained has been lost! Let us exhort one another, for we know not what may be at the door. May we be found with loins girt, and busy at our work. This is the rst of April; and this day last year, Saturday, about this time, I was leaving Huntly Lodge for Perth. I remember the walks down the avenue, for the ground was covered with snow, and no conveyance could approach, I remember the heart filling as I thought of leaving friend after friend; but I strode on, and then, at the little bridge, turning round to take one look, I saw the butler posting after with the large muffetees. How little kindnesses endear us to one another! But good-bye. Give love to the Cunninghams, Cornfutes, Rosses, and all other friends. The heart warms to many around you, because it knows them best, and thinks old friends better than the new. — Yours very affectionately, Of aile ‘3d April, — yYou must get fast better, else we shall send for you to try the effects of a warm sun. God bless my little sister! Let us try to keep near the Lord. There is nothing really valuable but His favour. I rather think we should be more meditating on the word of God, “If ye abide in Me, and my word abide in you.” 1 would like to be uncareful without being careless, and contented without being stoical or indifferent. I shall be anxious till I hear from you again.’

To Mr. J. and A. CORNFUTE.

‘“BENARES, 15¢h September.

‘My DEAR JAMES AND ADAM, — You will see by the date of this, that I am far from home, and this will account for any interruption in our hitherto unbroken interchange of papers. My long, close confinement to Calcutta, the trying rainy season, and loneliness, had begun to tell on me; and, in order to arrest the progress of the evil, I got into one of the inland steamers, and came up here for a week or two. Look at the map, and I will tell you a little of my journey and my adventures in the Moffussil. On the afternoon of Saturday, the 23d August, I embarked, and found a large number of passengers — civilians, military, railway engineers, and merchants and indigo planters. I was, of course, pleased at this, for the angler cannot have much success where there are not plenty of fish. We got off before it was dark, and threaded our way through the crowded anchorage till we got up into the open river, which was run-Se am naman

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ning with a mighty current, and against which even the powerful steamer could hardly make way. At nightfall we anchored opposite Serampore, formerly belonging to the Danes, and where Carey and the other Baptist ministers took refuge when they were persecuted by the East India Company. They have still a large institution there, though it is now more a trading than a missionary establishment. The best newspaper in India, the Friend, which you know, is published here; and I wanted to go ashore and see the editor, Mr. Townsend, for a little; but the stream ran so fast, that though the captain said he would man the long-boat for me, yet he urged me not to go, as there was danger. So you have got no Frzend, for they have gone to Calcutta. Next morning we went on, and soon saw the effects of the long rainy season. The country was flooded on both sides as far as the eye could reach. Think of a mighty sea of fifteen or twenty miles, spreading all around, and the steamer sailing over fields and villages. The houses of the poor people are built of mud, like the bothies on the Strath; and so, when the water reaches, down they go; and we saw many, many a most harrowing scene. The population had mostly wandered far away; but here and there we saw crowds of people, with their children in boats, or gathered together on some slight elevation, with the poor cattle, starving like themselves. I often would have liked to stop and give rice; but it was impossible, as we should have been carried away by the stream. There is incalculable loss, the crops being destroyed; and after the water subsides, there will be malaria and abounding famine and diseases. This is the country to see misery in every form. Rich, gorgeous India has a wretched, miserable people. Brahminism, like Popery and Mohammedanism, impoverishes and degrades. We had service in the cuddy after breakfast, and I preached. I tried to get a psalm sung, and a young Scotchman sung while I read the line; but the success was not such as to lead me to make a second attempt. So, ever after, I shortly prayed, read a psalm, had prayer, read a chapter and preached out of it, prayed and pronounced the blessing. We sailed along the region which B. and I had coasted about the same time two years before, when we went in a budgerow for her health, and, of course, I had many memories rushing into my mind. I felt my way with my companions, and got a Bible class established in my cabin, where from five to eight regularly attended, and we soon became exceedingly attached to one another, and formed a kind of little church or brotherhood in the ship. We - read 1st and 2d Peter, and 1st John, ere we parted, and talked over it, reading a chapter each morning. Altogether it was a happy party, every one in the ship seeking to please and be pleased. Look in the map and you will find Cutwa, where B. and I stopped two years ago, and turned back. But now we moved on and reached Berhampore, which was formerly a great military station, but is now greatly deserted on account of the damp and bad health. It is all bounded or embanked towards the river, and the water, when we were there, was said to be seven inches higher than the land. It is the great silk district. There is an Independent Church mission, which I visited; one of the missionaries, Mr. Hill, being an acquaintance. Here, as everywhere, they complain of deadness. We sailed on till we got to Moorshedabad, where the old Nawab, or king of Bengal, has two palaces. It was his ancestor that perpetrated the enormity of the Black Hole of Calcutta. He is now a pensioner of the Company, getting about 10 lacs a year, or £100,000, which he miserably misspends, though the Government has an office whose business is to overlook the expenditure. Like all the other knights

and grandees of this country, who subsist. on the bounty of their conquerors, he is a miserable, licentious wretch, who poisons the whole neighbourhood. One thing, however, he did, which was not so bad. He gathered the learned Brahmins and pundits to a great entertainment. They came from far and near, and were royally entertained. After the feast was over, and they were all talking, as is their wont, on such occasions, of the savouriness of the curries, and the tenderness of the pillaus, and the abundance of the entertainment, the royal blackguard summoned the cooks, and, to their horror, they found that they had been eating victuals prepared by Mohammedans, and that cow-flesh and other pollutions had formed their feast. They rose with a cry of horror, ran out of the palace, and were never heard of again in that part of the country, for they had all lost caste, and become more despicable than the meanest soodra. We passed on, still in the midst of fearful flood, to Bhangulpore, the scene of the Santhal insurrection. You will see that we had now left the Bhaguretty, and entered on the mighty Ganges itself, which is at all times a noble flood, but this season seems literally a shoreless sea. One morning, at sunrise, we saw the snowy tops of the far-off Himalayas. At Bhangulpore we landed at night, and, accompanied by my young friends, struck into the country. We had a good deal of talk with the natives. A crowd came, and I found that none could read or write except the Brahmins. So, by the help of my friends, who are fluent speakers in the language, I urged upon them that, as they were supported by the villagers, they ought in return to gather the chokras, or boys, together, and teach them. But these comfortable gentlemen patted their stomachs, and said, “We get plenty without doing any work, and why should we trouble ourselves?” Some of the old people also remarked that their fathers had fed their cattle very well without reading or writing; and, kiswasti, what was the use of it to them? So it was no go, as they say. But the schoolmaster is abroad, and we found that Government is to establish a school here. We went on to Rajmahal, and came upon the incipient railway, and sailed along near it, and the grand trunk road, all covered with water. The hills here skirt the river, and are very beautiful, It is redolent of home for a drooping exile from the land of heather to be here, and I found it quite reviving. They area long, fine range, running off from the Himalayas as the Ochils run off from the Grampians, and they are covered with jungle up to the top, the haunt of the tiger, leopard, bear, wild buffalo, and snakes. One of my young friends had killed two tigers in one week, and another seven panthers in four days. This is their pastime; for they are busy, energetic men, carrying on extensive mercantile concerns. One of them belonged to the Greek Church; but, as he read the Bible, he became a Protestant, and we had many nice talks; and I have a confident hope that four of them will stand firm, and that, if I am saved, I shall meet them in heaven. The Santhals are a fine, manly race of savages, strong, active, truthful, living on their little bit of reclaimed jungle, and hunting the wild beasts. But they fell into the hands of the Bengalee mahajuns, or usurers, who deceived and oppressed them, and so they were maddened into the commission of many barbarities. They are now quiet, and Government is anxious for their improvement. The country of Behar, along which we sailed for a day or two, is high, and so has suffered little from the inundation. It is quite Englishlike, — green fields, interspersed with topes or clumps of trees, and full of herds of buffalos. They are what they call the gwala, or cow-feeding caste, and they make ghee,

which is a kind of coarse butter. The buffalo is not at all a pleasantlooking animal; and in our evening walks — for the steamer always stopped at sunset — we had to dodge about to keep out of their way; for it seems they do not like strangers, and have ‘a peculiar predilection for hunting a black coat, so that I felt I was rather a dangerous companion for my friends., One of them had once been saved by a faithful dog, which flew at the furious creature, and hung on his head till his master had contrived to make his escape. We saw crowds of crocodiles, which were more afraid of us than we were of them, though one would not care to meet them in their own element. At one of our coaling stations a serpent-charmer came, with a number of large cobras in small vessels. He took them out, and irritated them and made them bite; and then a little wretch of a boy, a mere child, took them and twined them round his neck, and there they hung. It was horrible and disgusting, and I turned away. As amissionary’s wife told me, there are no children among the natives; they are men and women ere they cease to be infants;

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precocious, and matured in all evil. Moughyr, which you will see, isa nice town. Here they excel in all kinds of cabinet work. Patna is a great Mohammedan place, ten miles long, and often compared to the “lang toun of Kirkaldy.” It is one of the most turbulent places in India. Dinapore is a large military station close by, to keep Patna in check. I knew some of the officers, and went ashore. Patna is famous for all kinds of cloth, and Dinapore for slaves. Here I was visited by Mr. Brice, a merchant missionary. He seems a good man. He came out for missionary work, but has engaged in trade; but says he would never advise any one to imitate him. No; but I wish we had missionary merchants — men who would do their worldly business diligently, and yet try to be epistles of Christ, seen and read of all men. After we left this place we had two severe storms, which kept us awake for two nights. Fortunately the wind and current were in opposite directions, else we should certainly have been sunk or driven on the shore. It is a curious river, the Ganges, shifting its channel constantly. It rises and falls many feet with amazing rapidity. One evening the steamer in which I was sailing anchored in deep water. Next morning she was lying high and dry far inland, and it was six or seven months ere they could make a canal to get her down to the distant river. We now got up to what are called the N. W. Provinces, and reached Gazipore, a fine town. There stone is used instead of the ceaseless red brick of Bengal. I went ashore — it was Sabbath afternocon — and stopped a little with a friend, Major Ottlay, who, with his wife, are good people. We arranged for evening sermon in the English church, as there is no chaplain; and tidings were sent round the cantonments. It is a very fine church. Mr. Hamilton, a civilian, read the English prayers, and then I preached. I don’t know that our friends in Princes Street would be so liberal. The Lieutenant-Governor, Mr. Halliday, had just been visiting this place. We met him going down. He is not a religious man; on the contrary, he lately published a proclamation, declaring that he had nothing whatever to do with missionaries or their doings. But the natives cannot understand that a man can be really ashamed of his religion. So they thought Mr. Halliday was playing a deep game, and that he had some plot to make them all Christians, Their idea was, that he would invite the whole place — many, many thousands — to a great burrah-connah, and make them eat with him, and so break caste. So there was a great consternation. Some of us are not sorry that his attempt to gain favour by a supererogatory liberality has had such a result. We came to Buxar, where there is a fort, with a fine view from the ramparts of a green, well-wooded, English-looking country. Here the horses for the cavalry, and the country generally, are bred at the huge Government studs. It is a fine sight to see hundreds of these creatures running unbroken, and at perfect liberty, like the wild horses of South America. Captain Macdonald, Margaret Maclean’s husband, is connected with the stud, and lives in this neighbourhood, but too far off for me to reach them. I have a nice long letter from her, wishing to know my movements. We came on to Benares, when I left the steamer, which goes on to Mirzapore and Allahabad. I went to stay with Mr. Tucker, the commissioner of the district, a man very high in the service, and one of the best of men. It was the Mohurram, a Mohammedan festival, lasting for a whole week; and Mr. Tucker has taken me about to everything. He is next to the Lieutenant-Governor, and has in his district 40,000 villages, 500,000 distinct holders of land, 10,000,000 of people. Why, it is a great kingdom; and as he moves about, making his progresses

in the country, he comes into contact with every part. His management seems admirable, and he labours from morning till late at night. What a responsibility! They are a delightful family, and I have felt myself in a kind of little heaven during my week’s stay. Mr. Tucker gives all his large income to the Lord. He writes, or gets prepared, great numbers of works in the vernacular for the natives. He has made quite a library. He visits, assists, and encourages all the missionaries without any partiality, though himself belongs to the English Church. He has begun a noble normal school, — where he gathers together the best young men in the district, and maintains them at their studies for six months, and then sends them home to benefit their neighbours. Government abstains from teaching Christianity in their institutions; but he says, “I must do what is right;” and so he pours in Bible knowledge with all his might. Another interesting school of his is for the sons of men of the highest rank. These men say, “We will not send our sons to a common school or college.” So he called them together, and they came readily; for he is the great man of the quarter. Then he spoke to them of the progress of knowledge among the poor, and that their children would fall behind. They said, “We must have a school of our own.” He said, “Very well;” and turn- ‘ing to one of them, he said, “Give me that empty house of yours.” The Baboo did not like to say no. So the school began. It is a most interesting sight; fine-looking, noble-looking boys, elegantly dressed, with jewels, and huge armlets and necklaces of solid gold, their servants standing behind them, and all so full of animation, and thirsting for knowledge. Why, it will quite revolutionize the palaces and harems of Benares. One could almost take the bright little fellows to one’s bosom. They came crowding round to shake hands as we left. Poor fellows! if this attempt fails, they will soon be lost and degraded like their fathers. Mr. Tucker pointed out boys whose fathers are worth four millions of money. Benares is the headquarters of Hindooism; and the city, like Athens, seems quite given over to superstition. Everywhere are temples, idol-shops, weavers weaving the names of the gods, stalls with flowers for worship; and it is Shwa — the obscene, abominable — that is everywhere served. Mr. Leupolt, an English Church missionary, took me round a great deal one day. We set off from Mr. Tucker’s before six in the morning, and soon reached the large mission-house, where Mr. Tucker left me. Then Mr. Leupolt drove to Jainarain’s College, a large building of which I must tell you. Jainarain was a i Bengal noble. Being ill, he made a pilgrimage to Benares, as they always do, either to get better in that most sacred spot, or, if he died, assuredly be blessed. He continued ill, however; but heard of a merchant living near where I lived, who, it was said, could tell him how he might be cured. He went to him. The merchant was a good man, and said, “I know one that can cure you. What would you give?” Jainarain said, “A lac of rupees.” “No, that will not do.” “Four lacs of rupees.” “No, He will take nothing but your heart? “He gave him some simple medicines, and showed him how to pray; and he went away and soon recovered. He came back to ask what he should do in gratitude. The merchant said, “Build and endowaschool.” He did it. The good merchant afterwards became embarrassed in his affairs, and then took the head-mastership of the school, and all prospered. But after two years he died. Jainarain was at a loss what to do, for it went back. But he heard that there was a good chaplain that loved the natives and sought their good. So he began to pray that this good chaplain might come to Benares. One morning

some one came in, and said, “A new chaplain has come.” “Who?” said Jainarain. It was Corrie, the very man he was praying for. He hastened to him, and Corrie advised him to hand the whole over to the Church Missionary Society, which he did; and now it is admirably managed. When we went in, one of my old scholars at Calcutta came up to me. He said, I read Bunyan’s Pélgrim’s Progress with you. He went on the railway as a clerk, but feeling not at ease, came here, is now a teacher, and has lately been baptized. Two others of our Calcutta young men came up to me, both teachers here, and valued. We went from this to a girls’ school for the higher classes, conducted by Mrs. Smith, wife of the valued missionary. We examined them. She says they are soon taken away on account of their early matriages. We went into town, meeting dromedaries and elephants. After a little we were obliged to leave our buggy, and walk, for the streets are very narrow. We came to a mosque, built 2H by Aurungzebe, with two very lofty minarets, one of which was’ ascended with not a little fatigue; but were repaid by a noble prospect. The city is built of stone; the houses four, five, and six stories high; the narrow lanes all paved with flag-stones; an excellent sewerage; everything clean and orderly; and I quite blushed for Calcutta. I often asked, Where are the houses for the poor? When I got down, my legs were bending and trembling under me; but I was ashamed to say anything, for my companion seemed not to feel it. So off we set on foot, in the sun, with our sola hats and a chokra to guide us to explore. I was much interested with the narrow, crowded lanes and lofty houses. We came to a temple called Veshishwar, the centre of the world, and the most sacred spot in the sacred city. There is a well, down which the god jumped when the Mohammedan conquerors were testing his godship by firing cannon balls at his idols. Wery proper, was it not, to get out of the way? I looked down the well, and saw quantities of pretty little flowers thrown in as offerings. Then we went into the temple — a strange scene, where many were mad on their idols. They go about the work seriously, as if it were the great business of their life. Indeed, there seems no other business, except religion and banking — Benares being the Lombard Street of India. A priest of the mesque here gave Mr. Leupolt and Mr. Smith a good lesson soon after they came out. They were preaching, and Mr. Smith began exposing the obscenities of the Hindoo gods. Then Mr. Leupolt began, and spoke harder still, The priest rose with calm dignity, and salaaming, said, “Sahibs, gentlemen, we came here, not to listen to the misdeeds of the Hindoo gods — we know these better, perhaps, than you do; we came to hear of something better, how we may be saved.” He salaamed again, and sat down, and they felt quite abashed. This man was a mighty adversary; and Mr. Leupolt says he went to preach with fear and trembling, for he always took him to task. He evidently studied the Bible in order to refute him. One day he said, “Show me where it is said that the Holy Ghost spoke, and I will no more object.” Mr. Leupolt opened his Bible, and pointed to the beginning of the 13th chapter of Acts. The man took it, and read, “The Holy Ghost spake and said, Separate me Paul and Barnabas.” He read it again, as if he were confounded, like Paul on the way to Damascus. He closed the book, and never objected again; on the contrary, took their part. He died, and they refused him Mohammedan burial, for they found his Koran covered with refutations and notes, that showed his Christian leanings. The missionaries would have given much for that Koran; but it was burned by his bigoted countrymen. Here, ina niche, I thought I saw a statue covered with dust;

but it turned out to be a fakir, quite naked, who had sat in that position for years without moving. If any one puts food into his mouth he eats it, but never speaks or moves. I spoke to him in vain. Mr. Leupolt told me of another, who had sat in the same spot for thirty years without moving, and was counted prodigiously holy, far above the possibility of passion or emotion. Mr. Leupolt was building a preaching place close to his seat, and one day a small stone fell down and struck the saint smartly on the back, and up he started with a howl of rage, and his righteousness was for ever gone. We then went to an observatory, old, and very extensive, where all the astronomical instruments for making observations and calculating eclipses are built of stone, huge circles and gnomes and quadrants, and all sorts of things. But I see I cannot tell you, though I wrote for hours, all the wonders I saw’here. The river front is very grand; the whole consists of noble ghauts and temples built by wealthy men; it is in the form of a half moon, or crescent; as you float down for a couple of miles, it is a grand panorama. I went back to the mission-house to a very late breakfast. Then worship in Hindostanee; visiting missionaries; the Christian village. It is a stirring scene; and I was amused to hear the infantry in the compound saying one of their marching songs or hymns to the tune of “There’s nae luck aboot the house.” It quite made me start, though, you know, I never took my diploma in music. There seems to be a great deal of hopefulness and unanimity among the missionaries here. It will interest Mr. Gray to tell him that, visiting the great Sanscrit scholar, Dr. Ballantyne, principal of the Government College here, I found him busy putting into Sanscrit our Shorter Catechism. He said he wanted a succinct, comprehensive body of divinity, and this he thought the best. He put each question as an aphorism, and then compares Buddhism, Brahmanism, etc. with it. He is, I suppose, the best Sanscrit scholar in the world. Tell your dear father that I got his packet of “Voices.” How great and many have been his kindnesses tome! James Young is quite full of all the kindness of your family and my Perth friends,’

Mi

A HELP TO SELF-DEDICATION,

I give here, for the purpose of preserving it, one of his earliest publications, which has been found very useful both in this country and in India. It was written in March 1841, for a Bible class. Mr. Milne announced from the pulpit that he had prepared such a paper, and that copies would be given to all present, and he would be glad if they would prayerfully consider it, and after doing so, that all who could truthfully say it expressed their desire, would attach their signature to it. A lady, now in Edinburgh, has one of the original copies, with her signature affixed, and she says she cannot tell what a comfort it has been to her, in times of darkness, prayerfully to go over the different items and renew her dedication. She speaks of the communion seasons as so remarkable, She says that ten years she sat under Mr. Milne’s ministry, and that it was really to her like heaven on earth. Her family circle

being a very united one — three sisters and a brother — all like-minded.

«“T, the Lord, will make an everlasting covenant with you.” — ISAIAH LV. 3.’ “One shall say, I am the Lord’s, and another shall subscribe with his hand unto the Lord.” — ISAIAH XLIV. 5.;

‘Lord God of Hosts, thou didst enter into covenant with Abraham, as he waited beside the sacrifices which he had prepared (Gen. xv. 18), and thou art now graciously waiting beside Jesus, the sacrifice which chou hast prepared, in order that sinners may come and enter into covenant with thee (2 Cor. v. 19.) Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and I am no more worthy to be called thy child; but thou, in thy rich mercy, art willing to receive me, and I, through thy grace, am willing to be thine. I lay all my sin (Is. liii- 6) — the sin of my nature (Ps. li. 5), the sin of my heart (Jer. xvii. 19), the sin of my life (Job xxxiii. 27), the sin of my lips (Is. vi. 5), my secret sins (Ps. cxxxix. 3) — I lay all my sins, and iniquities, and unrighteousness, and transgressions, upon Jesus, the Lamb of God; and, cleansed by his blood, and made acceptable in his righteousness (Eph. i. 6, 7), 1 desire now to give myself to thee (2 Cor. viii. 5) in an everlasting covenant, never to be broken (Jer. xxxii. 40).

‘J am not my own, I am thine (1 Cor. vi. 19.) My heart is not my own, it is thine; I will endeavour to keep it for thee, and to make it Bethel, a temple for the Holy Ghost (2 Cor. vi. 16). My.thoughts are not my own, they are thine; I will cultivate godly and heavenly meditations (Ps. i. 2, and lxiii. 6). My words are not my own, they are thine; I will avoid all idle, unprofitable, vain-glorious, flattering, uncharitable discourse (Eph. iv. 29; Col. iii. 8, 9); and I will seek to have my conversation always savouring of Christ and heaven (Deut. vi. 7; Matt. xii. 34-37; Col. iii. 16). My eyes are not my own, they are thine; I will withhold them from looking upon sin and vanity (Habak. i. 13). My wealth is not my own, it is thine; I am only thy steward; I will therefore lay it out prudently and faithfully for thee, avoiding all unnecessary expense |upon myself (Deut. xxiv. 19-21; Job xxix. 12, 13; Prov. ili. 9, 10; Matt. xxv. 35, 365 Luke xxi. 2, 8, 4.) My time is not

I a a a tnt

my own, it is thine; I will employ it for thee, doing all I do as unto the Lord, striving every day to grow in grace and in knowledge, and to make myself useful to my fellow-men; I will redeem my time from too long or needless visits, idle imaginations, fruitless discourse, unnecessary sleep, and more than needful care about my worldly affairs (Eph. v. 16; Col. iv. 5). I desire to commit all I have to thee; my friends, my family, my health, my business, my esteem in the world, I am willing to receive what thou givest, to want what thou withholdest, to relinquish what thou takest, to suffer what thou inflictest, to be what thou requirest, and to do what thou commandest.

‘Lord God of Hosts, I desire, deliberately, cheerfully, and with full purpose of heart, thus to surrender myself wholly and for ever to thee; I feel that this is my duty, my interest, my privilege, my glory ; — I believe that thou wilt receive what I thus give (2 Cor. vi. 17); I believe that thou wilt keep what I have thus committed to thee (2 Tim. i. 12); — I will trust in thee for temporal provision (Psi xo rs will trust in thee for support under daily cares and labours (Is. xxvi. 3); I will trust in thee for pardon of daily sins (Ezek, xxxvi. 2 5)3 1 will trust in thee for growth and fruitfulness (Hos. xii. 5); I will trust to thee for strength in the hour of death (Is *xiius 2) I sin, may I grieve without despair; if I walk uprightly, may I rejoice without pride.

‘Lord Jesus, I take thee for my Prophet, my Priest, my King, my Life, my Light, my Rest, my Joy, my Glory, my All in All.

‘Spirit of Adoption, that proceedest from the Father and the Son, I desire to receive thee into my soul, that thou mayest abide with me. Convince me of sin, convince me of judgment, guide me into all truth; take of the things of Christ and show them unto me; be as the dew and the rain of heaven to my soul, causing the word of life to take root, and grow, and bear the fruits of peace, joy, love, gentleness; enable me to mortify the flesh with its affections and lusts — when the enemy comes

POSTSCRIPT. 4°7

in like a flood, do thou lift up a standard against him; be in me as a well of living water — be in me as the earnest of the inheritance, as the first-fruits of heaven — sealing me unto the day of redemption. Holy and blessed Spirit, help me to distinguish between thy voice and the voice of the evil one — between thy suggestions and the impulses of the flesh — between thy leadings and the frowardness of my own heart. I will labour not to resist, nor grieve, nor dishonour, nor quench thee; but, with a humble, broken, mortified, self-denying spirit, will endeavour to fall in with thee in all things, and to think, and speak, and act in thee.

‘Freee ST, LEONARD’S MANSE,
“PERTH,”

I wished to have inserted a few more letters, and also more of the hymns scattered through the pages of the Indian Journal. But the volume would thus have swelled out unduly. Indeed it has only been by the exercise of considerable self-denial, that I have been able to keep it within moderate bounds. What I have given, however, is sufficient to show the man at all points, and in all these points the same single-eyed, consistent man of God, and minister of Christ.

In another page will be found the inscription on his monument in the Grange or Southern Cemetery; and I may add here, that on the wall of the new hall, belonging to the Perth Young Men’s Religious Tract Society,a memorial slab of marble is in process of being fitted up for him, as well as another for Mr. Burns. The Grange memorial is in the obelisk or pillar form, of white marble, with choice texts, and an open Bible above his name; and she who erected it closes a note to the author of this memoir with these words, — words which all of us who knew him will take as expressive of their own feelings:

‘I love to think of him now as a pillar in the temple of our God.’

‘HIM THAT OVERCOMETH WILL I MAKE A PILLAR IN THE TEMPLE OF MY GOD, AND HE SHALL GO NO MORE OUT: AND I WILL WRITE UPON HIM THE NAME OF MY GOD, AND THE NAME OF THE CITY OF MY GOD, WHICH IS NEW JERUSALEM, WHICH COMETH DOWN OUT OF HEAVEN FROM My God 3 AND I WILL WRITE UPON HIM MY NEW NAME,’