Closing Scenes
The winter was spent quietly at Knowle Road, the only break of importance being his admission to the Turners’ Company, through the nomination of his friend Professor Tennant. This took )lace on the twentieth of December, and a few days later he received the freedom of the City of London. He still continued his visits to the Moffat Institute in Lambeth, and attended steadily Mr. Baldwin Brown’s weekly lectures on St. Bernard, Francis of Assisi, and Wycliffe, besides the Sabbath services. In the spring of 1878 our father again had the pleasure of breakfasting with Gladstone, at the house of Mr. Birks, in Harley Street. In May he assisted, with Mr. Baldwin Brown, at the marriage of another of his granddaughters, now Mrs. Mannhardt, of Hanerau. The year passed quietly in visits to friends and in some public engagements; but in January, 1879, came another of those seasons of parting of which he had had so many. On the ninth of January his daughter Bessie, with her husband and younger children, left our house to return to their work in South Africa. As usual, this was the signal for a severe struggle in his own mind in the desire to go too.
In addition to other public engagements among his own people, naving promised to address the Wesleyan missionary meetings at Huddersfield, he did so, returning via Rotherham to visit our old friends the Habershons. It had escaped his memory that the annual meeting of the Bible Society was so near. He suddenly discovered it while seated at the tea-table surrounded by friends, and could not rest till it was settled that we should start next morning early enough to be at the meeting; and start we did, in spite of sleet and snow, by the train leaving Rotherham at seven in the morning. He arrived in time to enter soon after the meeting
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o had commenced, sat it through with great satisfaction, and then returned home to Brixton, by no means overdone and quite lively. Soon after this he started on another round of public duty, getting as far as Scotland, where he baptized a great-grandchild, Mary Livingstone Bruce.
At the end of July we went to Jersey and Guernsey for the Missionary Society. We were accompanied by the Rev. Edward Jones. We were entertained in Jersey by Mr. Williams, who made the deputation week a combination of pleasure and work, driving to all the villages for meetings by the most interesting routes, and occasionally picnicing for the sake of seeing some beautiful spot on our way. The weather was magnificent, so that the enjoyment of so much fresh air and change of scene, with the delightful company of his genial coadjutor Mr. Jones, quite counteracted the fatigue of the many meetings. It was while we were at Guernsey that we first heard of Park Cottage, but did not go to see it till some weeks after our return to London.
Our father had for several years been craving a change of residence. He was weary of looking at bricks and mortar, and feeling it difficult to refuse the many applications for work in the neighbourhood of London during the winter months, he longed for the quiet of the country, or more still a seaside retreat. Nothing suitable, however, was found by the sea, and Park Cottage seemed just the kind of home he desired. Thither he went in November, first paying a visit to Swansea for meetings there. On arriving at Leigh a very warm welcome awaited him from Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Morley, whose tenant he had become, and their thoughtful attention never wavered from that day until he passed to the heavenly home.
The winter was bitterly cold. The morning after the first heavy fall of snow his delight was great. He stood gazing out of the window upon the beautiful white covering which made trees and shrubs all look like fairyland. It was an old-fashioned winter, and reminded him of the days of his youth, for even in England he had not seen snow in the country more than once or twice. But when it lay for a month his enthusiasm vanished, and he longed to see the green grass again, and to feel the sun’s rays. He longed, too, to be at work m the garden, and so watched for the spring. He was quite in his element when he was able to go out and guide the gardener. He seemed to feel more at home in his own house than he had ever done since he had come to England. The village life and all his surroundings seemed so much more natural to him. Of course some privileges were missed, but others made up for their loss. He attended regularly the little village chapel, always in the morning and often in the afternoon, and was always glad to help in the services. Some friends remonstrated with him, when leaving London, upon going to bury himself down in the country; but when they saw him after a few months, especially in his own house, they had not a word to say.
One of the first of these visitors was Baldwin Brown. It was a nying visit, but a very welcome one to all at Park Cottage. Several friends from South Africa also visited him at Leigh, among them Mr. and Mrs. Coillard of the Basuto Mission. Mr. C. on entering the study, from the window of which he looked into the garden, exclaimed, “^Vhy you have got back to Kuruman here!” A door from the study led out to the garden. He would be in and out all day. There was always fresh enjoyment to him in showing his friends the progress of his plans and the growth or improvement of certain plants. Then he was so pleased to show his visitors Mr. Morley’s beautiful grounds, upon the charms of which he would stand and expatiate with all the zest of a connoisseur.
Of course there were gloomy days when he could not venture out. On these he often took refuge in some Sechwana work, and felt that always the best means of forgetting the weather. The thoughtful sociability of his neighbours in the village did much to render the years at Leigh happy, and one or two, particularly, made a point of dropping in on dull days, diverting him by their cheerfulness from all thought of the sombre skies of old England, and making him talk of the sunny land to which his heart was always ready to turn. He read a great deal, particularly newspapers, and in the evenings always read aloud any scraps which interested him.
He was intensely interested and excited during the Transvaal War. It never entered his head that England would give back the Transvaal to the Boers. To the very last he allowed himself to believe that it would continue under the government of England, and thus the natives be protected. I remember well coming into his room the morning the news of the retrocession was published. He sat in his armchair the picture of sadness, his hands clasped, and the paper thrown down by his side. “They have done it,” he said. “The Transvaal is given back!” For days he was as though he had received a death-blow, nor to his dying hour did it cease to be to him a bitter sorrow.
We were seldom alone, often having a friend to stay with us, as had been the case as long as he had had a home in England. The holidays found him surrounded by some of his numerous grandchildren. During the first year of his residence at Leigh he had a visit from the widow and children of Robert, his elder son, from Natal, where they have long lived. His comparative retirement did not by any means end his public work. He still travelled both for the Bible and Missionary Societies.
In May, 1881, he was at the Mansion House, the guest of the Lord Mayor, Sir William McArthur, for several days, and rather enjoyed sleeping in the middle of the city, and waking up on the Sunday mornmg to its marvellous stillness. He attended the usual May meetings this year; and in June, in fulfilment of a long-standing promise, went down to Kendal for the Bible Society. It was a week of hard work, as he made long speeches at Kendal, Grasmere, and Ambleside. All that could be done was done to make him comfortable by his old friends Mr. and Mrs. Charles Braithwaite.
From Kendal he went on to Falkirk, there to preach at the opening services of Carron United Presbyterian Church, close to the home of his boyhood. His host here was, as usual, John Wilson, and after the excitement of the London May meetings and those at Kendal, winding up with the service at Carron which drew so largely upon his feelings, he found South Bantaskine once again a haven of rest, and recruited as usual there. It was on this visit, I think, he talked for an hour to a large number of Sunday scholars on the lawn, most of them belonging to an evening school carried on by one of the daughters of the house. After another visit to the Kidstons he returned to the house of one of his granddaughters in Edinburgh, Agnes Bruce. While there he addressed, one Sunday evening at a valedictory service in the United Presbyterian Assembly Hall, nine young men leaving the Livingstone Medical Mission for all parts of the world, and belonging to all sections of the Church.
He greatly enjoyed seeing all his old friends once more, not knowing, yet always ready to think it was the last time. His only remaining, cousin, Mrs. Moodie, who is quite blind, referring to that visit three years afterwards, said, “I mind how he said, ‘I have come straight to you, the first call I have made in Edinburgh,’” and it pleased her well. Befortj returning to England he again went for a few days to Bantaskine. There Mr. Wilson gathered a representative assembly from different parts of Scotland to meet him at a breakfast in his own house.
The following report of this meeting appeared in the periodicals of the day:
“On Tuesday a gathering took place at South Bantaskine of a deeply interesting character. Dr. Moffat, who is at present on a visit to his native district of Carronshore, is the guest of Mr. and Mrs. Wilson. On their invitation a large number of representatives of different churches assembled to do honour to the veteran missionary. After luncheon, Dr. Lindsay Alexander introduced Dr. Moffat, who spoke on his African experiences and of the work he had been able to accomplish for the Hottentots and the Bechwanas. Several gentlemen testified to the esteem in which Dr. Moffat is held by all the churches; and the following address was drawn up and signed by the undermentioned gentlemen, who were guests on the occasion: — ‘We, the undersigned members of various religious denominations, having, through the great kindness of Mr. and Mrs. John Wilson, of South Bantaskine, been invited to meet the Rev. Dr. Moffat in a friendly manner at their house, desire to express our kindest Christian sympathy towards the venerable missionary who has so long laboured in the high places of the heathen field, and who has been honoured to accomplish so great a work in the moral and spiritual elevation of the long-neglected tribes of South Africa, and our great delight at seeing him in the midst of us in the enjoyment of vigorous health; and our earnest prayer is that the close of his long and useful life may be crowned yet more abundantly with the blessing and favour of his Divine Master.’ Sir Peter Coats of Auchendrane; Rev. John Ker, D.D., W. H. Goold, D.D., William Wilson, D.D., Sir H. Wellwood Moncrieff, Bart., D.D., W. Lindsay Alexander, D.D, Professor Duff, LL.D., Rev. D. C. Scott, J. B. Kidston, Esq., Glasgow; Rev. R. S. Scott, D.D., Rev. James Rennie, Glasgow; James King, Esq., Levernholme; Professor Dickson, D.D., Glasgow; Rev. Charles R. Teape, D.D., Principal Douglass, Glasgow; William Wilson, Esq., Banknock; Rev. James Brown, D.D., Paisley; Robert Moffat, Esq., M.D.; Rev. T. A. Wylie, LL.D., Rev. Hugh Mair, Rev. Finlay Macpherson, Sheriff Bell, Falkirk; Rev. J. Elder Gumming, D.D., Rev. J. C. Herdman, D.D., Melrose; Rev. John M’Laren, Larbert; Rev. John Anderson, Falkirk; Principal Cairns, D.D.; Professor Crum Brown, Edinburgh; J. A. Henderson, Esq., banker, Falkirk; Rev. John Vellowlees, Carron; Alexander L. Bruce, Esq.; W. Leckie, Esq., Edinburgh; Rev. George Wade, Falkirk; and W. Macdougall, Esq. Letters of apology for absence were received, among others, from Principal Sir Alex. Grant, Bart.; Sir James Falshaw, Bart.; Principal Rainy, Professor Calderwood, Dr. Charteris, Dr. Culross, and Rev. Mr. Brooke, Falkirk. It is interesting to state that there were also present Mrs. Bruce, daughter of Dr. Livingstone, with her husband, and the Rev. David C. Scott, who is about to proceed to Africa to take charge of the Blantyre Mission, and for which purpose he was ordained yesterday in Edinburgh.”
It was a happy day for all concerned. Several remained the night, and it was a rich treat to him to enjoy a little more at leisure the society of such choice spirits. Among the guests at breakfast the Dr. Scott above mentioned left Mr. Wilson’s house to go to his own wedding. Within two years at least five of that company had gone to the better land, including the large-hearted host as well as the central figure of the gathering. The first to depart was Ex-Provost Russell, brother-in-law of Mr. ^^’ilson, whose hearty welcome to Falkirk our father never missed. W, Lindsay Alexander, another of the party, has also gone from us.
One more peaceful day after all the pleasurable excitement, and our father started southward, unconsciously bidding farewell for ever to the scenes of his boyhood. John Wilson and he, however, met once more; the former being on deputation from the United Presbyterian Synod to the Presbyterian Church in Paris, called at Leigh on his way, and the friends spent a happy Sunday together. Delightfully interesting as this visit to Scotland had been, he was glad to get home; but he was soon earnestly entreated by his Manchester friends to go to the Congregational Union meetings in that city, to address the missionary meeting, and especially to preach in Grosvenor Street Chapel. He could seldom resist Manchester, and the weather being uncommonly fine for the time of year, he went and took up his abode at Broughton with Mrs. J. J. Sheldon, senior. He attended the evening meeting at the Free Trade Hall. The sight of the whole assembly rising as he appeared on the platform was overpowering. He always felt that in Manchester there was a deeper feeling in many hearts when they rendered that reverence than often dictated such demonstrations. It dated back nearly seventy years when our mother and he there consecrated themselves to the work to which they were so truly faithful even unto death. The most interesting service was the one at Grosvenor Street, where sixty-five years before he had been ordained to mission work by William Roby. He looked round, and recalled where one and another had sat — all now passed away except those who then were children; and where he himself had sat and had received the solemn charge. The meetings over, he went to spend a week at Cheadle with Mrs. Stephen Sheldon. After resting there he started homeward, and spent the winter at Leigh. In March, 1882, he visited at Knockholt his daughter Helen, who was on the eve of sailing on a sorrowful mission to New Zealand; and he then entered on another series of engagements of a public nature. On one occasion he attended a Salvation Army meeting in Exeter Hall. He was much interested and impressed by the earnest tones of those who took an active part, but could not get over the irreverence of manner. In the evening of the same day, Mr. Evan Spicer, whose house was his home when he slept a night in London, took him to the Electric Exhibition at the Crystal Palace, to his great delight. June and July were spent in visits to some of the many friends whose doors were always wide to receive him. Ketshwayo was at this time in England. Our father’s sympathies were all with him, and he went to see him. As he could not speak Zulu, he had to be content with interpretation; but Mr. Shepstone brought to him an attendant, saying, “This man can speak Sechwana.”
It was such an unloosing of his tongue as he had not had for many years, and the man’s delight was beyond bounds. He had been in the train of a son of Mosilikatse during his exile in Zululand. He had heard of our father, but never expected to see him, and seemed hardly able to believe it. He asked again and again, “A u Moshete? “(Are you Moffat?) When convinced, he exclaimed with beaming eyes, “I see this day what my eyes never expected to behold, Moshete I”
Two days after this episode we again started for Lancashire to visit the Reyners and Cheethams; but our visit was much saddened by the blanks in homes where all had been old friends. He much enjoyed going over the past with Mr. Cheetham, and visited with Miss Cheetham the house at Dukinfield, sitting down in the very room in which he first saw our mother. But there was an intense pathos about it all — so many were gone; and pleasant as it was to see their children and children’s children, he still felt the want of the absent ones. A week spent with Miss Sheldon at Cheadle, where death had taken away our dear old hostess since our visit the previous year, completed his last sojourn in Manchester. He found that even very moderate public speaking this year made him dizzy, and he therefore declined nearly all requests. Returning to Leigh we settled down for the winter, during which he enjoyed good health; but as January wore on, debarred from air and exercise, he was feeling weak, and craved a change, so we went for a fortnight to Brighton.
For the next two months he was remarkably well — quite extraordinarily bright and active. He made a short visit to London in March, and slept the last night in his first Brixton home, the house of Henry Vavasseur. For two months he took special interest in his garden, planting many things with his own hands. In April, according to promise, he went to Hampstead to lay the foundation-stone of a new church. He enjoyed the occasion, but complained of great weariness and intermittent pulsation. This now troubled him so constantly that he at last sought advice two months later. Nevertheless, he was otherwise wonderfully well and bright for a month, up at six in the morning as often as not, and out at work in the garden. He attended the Bible Society’s meeting on the second of May, but returned very tired. The irregularity of the pulsation increasing, his symptoms during the ensuing week caused some anxiety; but he would not be dissuaded from going up again to the Society’s meeting on the tenth. “It may be the last time,” he said. On Friday he did not seem mora tired than usual after such a meeting; but that night he was very ill. From the twelfth of May he never fully rallied, although often so bright and well as to dispel our fears.
He was greatly cheered in May by a visit from Mr. and Mrs. James Spicer, of Woodford. Mr. Spicer and his sons had served him unweariedly in many ways during all the years after his return from Africa — managing business matters for him, and taking off his mind concerns which would otherwise have been a sad care to him
On Monday, Mr. and Mrs. Morley being at Hall Place for a day or two, asked him up to tea. After tea, Mrs. Morley and he walked round the gardens and hot-houses. He had gone up just to see the Morleys for half an hour, but fully two hours they spent together, and it was the last walk he ever had round the grounds. Then he went to Knockholt, and we hoped for the usual effects of a change of air; but, alas! we felt that he was no stronger when he returned home. He was at last persuaded to see his friend Sir Risdon Bennett, who, with his usual kindness, gave him advice, and tried to cheer him, but at the same time confirmed the worst fears of those who were anxiously watching, and dreading that this was the beginning of the end. So wonderfully, however, did he rally under Dr. Bennett’s treatment, that we could not help hoping that there was a mistake.
He was so much better, that early in July he again paid a visit to Knockholt. His daughter there had invited two dear friends, Mr. and Mrs. George Sturge, to spend a day, that they might all meet again without over-fatigue to either. They walked togethei round the garden in pleasant converse; the afternoon passed, and they parted — two of the number to meet again within one month in heaven. Mrs. Sturge departed on the twenty-ninth of July, and our father on the ninth of August. He returned home brightly, but in a few days began to suffer still more. Yet with all this he was in and out of the garden, and took two drives, Mrs. Morley sending her carriage whenever he felt able. After the second drive, on the fourth of August, he took half an hour’s walk; and every evening he strolled round the garden, noticing how things were going oa One evening he remarked upon the beautiful crop of apples not yet ready for use, and said, “We must not forget to send Mr. Stacey some of these.” Mr. Stacey, the devoted servant of the Society and faithful friend of all the missionaries, had long been laid aside with paralysis.
To his friend Mr. Dickson, of Edinburgh, he wrote about three weeks before his departure:
“I have for some time been experiencing a weanedness from all that concerns this life, and feel a growing desire to spend my future in praise and prayer. Of course it is natural that one at my age should be frequently looking at the ‘goodly land ’ beyond the * narrow stream.’ The prospect is sublimely grand, for there
‘Our best friends and our kindred dwell,
And Christ our Saviour reigns.’
I have oft felt much pressed in mind from the reported sufferings of the Bechvvanas, robbed and trodden down by the Transvaal Boers; and now our Senators have got their hands full of perplexities. How sad it is to reflect on the present state of Madagascar I What a comfort, among all these dark and ominous prospects, that our Father in heaven surveys it all, and in due time will show who is the only potentate. When we think of the glories of eternity, how small the mites of power in this world are. Love to your dear sons, and believe me ever gratefully,
“Robert Moffat.”
The following was one of the last letters he wrote. It shows that to the last his heart beat in unison with the interests of the Society, to the service of which he gave himself in 1810, and whose faithful servant he was for fifty-seven years:
July 23, 1883.” My dear Mr. Robinson, — Only a few lines to say that but for an attack of illness I should probably during the five weeks past have visited the Mission-house once and again. I have been laid up, though not in bed; and though I still feel great weakness, I think I am gaining strength. I have suffered great weakness in my lungs, so that the least exercise made me puff and blow as if they were going to stop altogether. I mustered energy to visit my old friend Sir Risdon Bennett, and am attending to his prescriptions. If it be the Lord’s will to restore strength, I shall not fail to call, longing as I do to see you all again. But such is life; prop after prop is being removed, but nothing will be suffered to remove the ’ blessed hope ’ of reaching the blissful shore beyond the narrow stream. I have managed to write a couple of letters to friends who may be wondering what has become of me, and I feel fatigued. Some seem to suppose that I do not get old like other folks, as applications still come in for services at public meetings. My platform and pulpit days are over, and I have had a tolerable share. I hope you are still receiving good accounts from Wardlaw Thompson What a noble tale he will be able to tell us on his return! With every sentiment of regard, yours,
“Robert Moffat.”
THE LAST SUNDA V. 28j
On the thirtieth of July Dr. Risdon Bennett kindly came down to see him. His visit was a great comfort, and did good for the time; but the sun was rapidly nearing the western horizon, and nothing could stay its course.
Our father enjoyed seeing his friends as they looked in now and then, but could not bear much company, though he brightened up for the time. On Sunday the fifth he would fain have gone as usual to the chapel, but was dissuaded — the first time I ever remember his being absent from morning service. He spent a peaceful Sunday at home. In the evening he enjoyed the singing of a few hymns, after our usual stroll round the garden. He could not join in the singing, but chose the hymns — “The sands of time are sinking,” as it is in the Presbyterian Hymnal, and he seemed to enjoy it peculiarly; also, “Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,” “How sweet the name of Jesus sounds,” “At even when the sun was set,” and “Nearer, my God, to Thee.” He was very fond of hymns, and at home, even when quite well, it was his habit when most of the household had gone to bed, and he smoked his pipe before going himself, to repeat hymn after hymn. He had learned several by heart quite lately, among them, “Abide with me,” and “I long to hear the story.” He was struck with the latter when he heard it was the last hymn his friend Mr. Wilson sang before his death, and he committed it to memory during the last three months of his life. His New Testament (in large type), a copy sent out to him and our mother years ago by Miss Anna Mary Braithwaite, was his constant companion during those last weeks, and he seemed to live with the Apostle John. Even at family worship he was in the course of reading John over a second time when he passed away. In fact those who were with him during the last months were all struck with the way in which his thoughts turned ever upward. It mattered not what was the topic of conversation, and however heartily he entered into it, somehow or other it always turned to heaven and the Saviour.
On Monday, August the sixth, he seemed markedly better, and very much enjoyed visits from Miss Unwin, of Walthamstow Hall, a dear friend, and his son-in-law James Vavasseur. He heard also of the return of a grandson and granddaughter from South Africa whither they had been on a visit, and he looked forward to seeing them on the morrow with great joy. He was very bright on the Tuesday, was down early, walking in the garden before breakfast. When his grandchildren came he hstened eagerly to the tale they had to tell of old friends and old places in “his own loved country.” On the Monday morning when we came down he had been reading the Dai’/y News as usual, and threw it down sadly, saying, “Oh, there is nothing about Africa; they are just letting it drop.” When reminded that there was to be a discussion that night in ParHament, he brightened a little, and read the next day with great interest Mr. Forster’s speech, which gratified him much. On Tuesday evening, after his grandchildren had left, he took his usual walk round the garden, and seemed wonderfully better and very happy. At ten o’clock he went upstairs, and then it was that a great fear took possession of me, for I heard him praying upstairs so fervently, in such a quavering voice — not as usual, quietly with the door shut — that I felt sure he was worse, and hastened up. He had a night of pain and sleeplessness, and rose on Wednesday very weary and low. Yet he was out several times directing the gardener, though the weather was drizzling and dull, and once he went out with the garden scissors, leaning on his umbrella, and clipped some twigs of a hawthorn the which overhung the path. While he was doing this a neighbour called, and I was glad of the excuse to call him in, for he was evidently feeling so weak. Mrs. Heath said, “Why do you exert yourself so, when it could be done for you?” “Ah!” he answered, “I like to feel that I can still do it.” He looked very ill that day, but otherwise did not seem worse than he had been several times before, or so bad as when we had sent up for Dr. Bennett ten days before. It was holiday time, and there were four of his grandchildren with us. At tea-time, when he had retired to his armchair, he said, “Why are you all so quiet? Talk away, for I cannot hear.” I explained that the children were going out to spend an hour or two with our neighbours the Towers, and had not time to talk. He was so sensitive about our denying ourselves in any way for him.
So little did we look for any immediate change, that he and I were left alone in the house when the children went. We had not even a servant at hand. As I sat beside him he asked when his daughter Helen was likely to come. I said I thought probably next day, as I had written that he was not so well again. I begged him to let me send for Dr. Fraser, but he said, “No, to-morrow will do.” Very soon after he was much worse, and had a fainting fit He became very ill, and determined to go upstairs. I begged him to remain where he was; but he said, “No, I must go; I feel I can, because I will,” and, thank God, he reached the top of the stairs without falling. He remained on the bedside and rested awhile, propped up with pillows, until he felt able to undress, which he did, with but little assistance, as collectedly and deliberately as possibly, even winding up his watch with a cold, trembling hand — “for the last time,” he said.
By this time the children had returned, and Roger Price went for a doctor, and help speedily poured in. Our kind neighbours were all ready. Mr. Morley instantly sent off a carriage to Knockholt for Mrs. Vavasseur — Mr. Towers, a clergyman who lived close to us, going all the way to bring her. The doctor came in a few minutes after being summoned. He said that my father had broken a blood vessel. He was glad to see the doctor, and told him just how he felt. Our father slept beautifully most of the time till between three and four o’clock. Mrs. Towers remained with us until Helen arrived. He received her thankfully and calmly, folding her in his arms and asking how she came. He was full of thankfulness to Mr. Morley and Mr. Towers. From this time he continued to sleep, waking at intervals, and was much inclined to talk when awake.
He was just full of his Saviour’s love and mercy all through his life; he repeated many hymns and passages of Scripture. About eleven in the forenoon of Thursday, he tried to get out of bed, but fell back in a fainting fit and was caught by my sister. We feared that it was the end, but he revived. Dr. Fraser was at hand at once, and also Mr. Maxted, the superintendent at the village chapel, whom he had wished to see. Mr. Maxted’s ministrations were very acceptable, and he responded most heartily, dwelling on Christ as the only stay and help. He referred to our mother’s peaceful departure, and to the question of recognition in heaven.
He was very pleased to have a visit from Mr. Morley, whom he truly loved (and also Mr. Henry Morley), and thanked him so warmly for sparing time from his many engagements. He talked with wonderful vigour of the mysteriousness of Providence, and was evidently clinging to the hope of the restitution of all things, but wound up with the words, “It is all a mystery. Will not the Judge of all the earth do right?”
A dear friend who was to have spent the day with us, and had missed our telegram, came. He knew her, and was very glad to see her. Several grandchildren had come to see him, and he bade them a loving good-bye, kissing them and giving them his blessing. Mr. Towers came in and offered a few words of prayer, beautiful and appropriate. This was the last visitor he saw. Mr. Edward Jones had come from the Mission House, but we feared the flood of association and excitement his presence would have caused, and our father did not see him. He had asked for his Testament, and tried to read during the day, but he could not. We read to him, as he wished, portions of Scripture. The last was the tliirty-fourth Psalm. He repeated many hymns, among them the Scotch version of the hundred and third Psalm, but stopped and said,
2-<6 THE PILGRIMAGE OVER.
“There is nothing like the original,” which we then read to him. One hymn he would have us read to him was, “Hail, sovereign Light,” his mother’s favourite, published in very few hymn-books now.
Just at the last, Dr. Harry Pye Smith came. He had been deputed to take charge of my father’s case by Dr. Bennett when leaving town, and kindly came. When I thanked him he said, “I only came because it was he. I knew quite well that at his age I could do nothing.”
He had another sleep, and when he woke from this it was evident the end was near. He signed to us to cover his poor, cold hands, and lay, his looks wandering, unconsciously we think, from one to another. It seemed a hard struggle for that wonderful frame to let the spirit go, and then came the quietness which was unmistakable, leaving the beautiful face so natural. He ended his pilgrimage at half-past seven on the evening of Thursday the ninth of August, 1883.