« ■/ V"^^' 6 , 2.9-, / ^ PRINCETON. N. J. ^ ,....-^'^ t^ -^ y -^-^^ ^z^.^^^^ M 2fi 1918 ?iOGICAL St#^ MEMOIR MES MARGARET WILSON OF THE SCOTTISH MISSION, BOMBAY; ^yix^tH £rom Jer %tiXtx1^ antf JJournalg. BY JOHN WILSON, D.D., M.R.A.S., HONORARY PRKSIDENT OF THE BOMBAY BRANCH OF THE ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY, AND MISSIONARY OF THE FREE CHURCH OF SCOTLAND, BOMBAY. FOURTH EDITION. EDINBURGH : WILLIAM WHYTE AND CO., BOOKSELLBRS TO THE QUEEN DOWAGER LONGMAN AND CO., LONDON; W. CURRY, JUN., AND CO., DUBLIN AND W. COLLINS, GLASGOW. MDCCCXLIV. BALFOUR AND JACK, PRINTERS. REV. ALEX. BRUNTON, D.D., F.R.S.E., &c., &c., ONE OF THE MINISTERS OF THE TRON CHURCH, EDINBURGH; PROFESSOR OF ORIENTAL LANGUAGES IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH, AND CONVENER OF THE GENERAL ASSEMBLY'S COMMITTEE FOR THE PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL IN FOREIGN PARTS. Rev. and dear Sir, You have been called by the Church of Scotland to the discharge of a high and sacred function — that of watching over its Christian enterprise in this Eastern empire ; and the effective faithfulness which you have displayed, besides vindicating the trust reposed in you by the Church at home, has secured, in a rare degree, the esteem and affection of its agents abroad. Gratitude for your invaluable services to the Bombay Mission, naturally suggests to me the propriety of dedi- vi DEDICATION. eating to you the memorial of one, whose gifts and graces, joys and sufferings, were most intimately con- nected with its establishment and progress. A very tender consideration, I may be permitted to add, hallows the offering. The exercises of your own soul, on the loss of a partner, most eminent for her talents and worth, enable you to sympathize with those emotions which I have experienced in preparing this volume, but which I dare not attempt to describe. They are known and pitied by Him who alone can supply adequate consolation under them. In regard to my task as biographer, the main difficulty which I have had to encounter has consisted in deter- mining what I should select out of ample materials — how much could be omitted without relinquishing some interest — how much presented without hazarding tedious repetition. I have erred, it may be, in both particulars. Such as the work is, I am emboldened to publish it, by the hope of its encouraging the hearts, strengthening the hands, and directing the efforts of those who, them- selves enjoying the blessings of salvation, feel constrained, by a sense of the love of Christ, to extend the knowledge of his Name throughout the world. I commit it to the Great Head of the Church, fervently praying that it may serve to deepen a compassion, and stimulate a zeal, which, though in some degree awakened, bear no DEDICATION. vii proportion to the spiritual exigencies of the milHons in India, who are perishing for lack of knowledge. I am, Reverend and dear Sir, Yours most respectfully and gratefully, JOHN WILSON. Bombay, Uth July 1837. P.S. — In common with all the Missionaries formerly connected with our Establishment, I have judged it to be my solemn duty to give in my adherence to the Free Church of Scotland ; and the official tie which bound us together in the missionary enterprise has con- sequently been dissolved. Notwithstanding this circum- cumstance, I am still anxious that this inscription should continue to be the memorial of my respect for yourself personally, and of my sincere gratitude for your uniform kindness. Edinburgh, March 1844. CONTENTS. Chapter 1 13 Parentage — Birth — Early Dispositions and Education — Providen- tial Deliverances — Religious Impressions — Enters a Boarding School at Kilmarnock — Returns to Greenock — Death of her Mother — Admission to the Lord's Supper, and Love of Christian Communion — Zeal for the welfare of her Sisters and Brothers — Residence in Aberdeen — Mature Studies and Attainments. Chapter II 31 Death of her Father — Sanctified Affliction — Letters administer- ing Christian Comfort — Benevolent engagements in Greenock — Estimate of Worldly Enjoyments — A Parent's Form contem- plated— Departure from Greenock — Residence in Inverness- shire. Chapter III . . • .63 Departure from Inverness-shire — Visit to Greenock — Views of the Connection between Faith and Peace — Letters written from Edinburgh — Death of Miss Eliza Bayne. Chapter IV 80 Engagement to be Man-ied — Views and FeeUngs in the Prospect of Proceeding to India as a Missionary — Extracts from her Cor- respondence— Farewell Visit to Greenock — Letters to Mr Wilson on his Ordination to the Work of the Ministry, and to other Christian Friends — Marriage. X CONTENTS. Chapter V 102 Departure for London — Letters — Embarkation at Portsmouth — Voyage to the Cape of Good Hope — Cape Town — Groenekloof — Passage of the Cape — Trials on Board Ship — Private Journal — Coast of Ceylon, and of Malabar — Arrival in Bombay. Chapter VI 157 Retrospect of the Scottish Mission in the Southern Konkan — Letters on her Arrival in Bombay — Departure to the Konkan — Proceedings at Bankot — Residence at Harnai for the Study of the Mardthi Language — Correspondence — Return from the Kon- kan to Bombay. Chapter VII 189 Establishment of the Mission in Bombay — Plans of Labour — Difficulties in the Way of Female Education — Degradation of Woman by the Hindu Shastras — Mrs Wilson's Commencement of Operations — Letter — Review of the Memoir of Mrs Judson — Correspondence — Public Discussion with the Brdhmans — On Prayer for the Prosperity and Extension of the Church — Pecu- liar Circumstauces of Converts in India — Correspondence — First Converts in the Mission. Chapter VIII 248 Discussion with Mora Bhatta — Advantages of Missionary Tours — Account of a journey from Bombay to Nasik, by way of Pund and Ahmadnagar, in February 1831 — Letters of Mrs Wilson, addressed to her Husband, in his absence — Correspondence with her other Friends — Death of Mrs Cooper — Controversy with the Parsis — Visit to Puna — Translation of the Vendidad Sdde from the French. Chapter IX 293 Mrs Wilson's Engagements with her Schools in the commence- ment of 1832 — Establishment of a School for Poor and Destitute Girls — Death of Mrs Mitchell — Discussions with Hindus, Pdrsis, and Mussalmans — Letters to Mr Wilson at KhandaM — Corre- spondence on the Removal of Mr Cooper, and other trials of the Mission — Intimation of the sudden death of two of Mrs Wilson's Sisters — Death of a Child — Correspondence — Journey to Puna — Letters written in the Dakhan during Mr Wilson's Tour to J^ln^ — Correspondence in Bombay. CONTENTS. XI Chapter X 344 Indisposition at the commencement of 1833 — Devotional Frag- ments connected with her Bereavements, and her ChDdren — Residence at Bandara — Meditation on the Blessings of the Sab- bath— Correspondence — Studies — Notice of her Review of the Rev. Marcus Dod's Treatise on the Incarnation of our Saviour, &c. — Correspondence — Return to Bombay — Correspondence to the close of 1833, including Notices of the Mission. Chapter XI 384 Correspondence relative to a Tour by Mr Mitchell and her Husband in the State of Goa and the Southern Maratha Countrj', in the beginning of 1834 — Extracts of her Letters addressed to Mr Wilson in his absence, with Notices of her Operations and Occurrences in Bombay — Mrs Wilson's Marathi Translations and other Literary Productions. Chapter XII 427 Letters written between the commencement of May and the close of 1834, including Accounts of Mrs Wilson's Engagements and Occurrences in the Mission, and Notices of the death of Christian Friends. Chapter XIII 472 Journey from Bombay to Surat — Residence in Surat and Dumas — Correspondence — Death of R. C. Money, Esq. — Return to Bom- bay— Correspondence. Chapter XIV 519 Last lUness and Death — Impression made by her Removal — Character — Usefulness as a Missionary. Appendix 539 Fimeral Sermon by Dr Wilson, MEMOIR. CHAPTER I. PARENTAGE— BIRTH— EARLY DISPOSITION AND EDUCATION— PROVIDENTIAL DE- LIVERANCES— RELIGIOUS IMPRESSIONS— ENTERS A BOARDING-SCHOOL AT KILMAR- NOCK— RETURNS TO GREENOCK — DEATH OF HER MOTHER — ADMISSION TO THE LORD'S SUPPER AND LOVE OF CHRISTIAN COMMUNION — ZEAL FOR THE WELFARE OF HER SISTERS AND BROTHERS— RESIDENCE IN ABERDEEN— MATURE STUDIES AND AT- TAINMENTS. Margaret Bayne, the subject of this Memoir, enjoyed, from her earliest years, the highest spiritual and intellectual advantages. Her father, the Rev. Kenneth Bayne, A.M., of the Gaelic Chapel, now the South Parish Church, of Greenock, was a per- son of great piety and worth, and a Christian minister of no mean order. " He naturally possessed," says the late Rev. Dr Love of Anderston, one of his most intimate friends, " great strength of understanding, with a penetrating sagacity, and correctness of judgment. These were early turned into the right channel, invigorated and sanctified by the illumination of grace. He was known and remembered at Aberdeen as a dili- gent, discerning, inquisitive, and serious student."* " He had," says another of his acquaintances, " strong natural talents and eminent gifts, highly cultivated; an extensive and correct knowledge of all human learning, taught at our schools and colleges; but divinity was his chief study and delight: to it he made all his other knowledge subservient. He made great pro- gress by the teaching of the Lord in these three great books, — the works of God, creation, and providence, — the word of God, — * Dr Love's Funeral Sermon, p. 29. 14 MEMOIR OF and his own heart." As a preacher of the Word, he greatly ex- celled. " He was rich in good matter, clear, scriptural, and often striking in hi^ illustrations : generally favoured with un- common fulness and freedom, both as to the frame of his soul and language in delivery, accompanied with a sweet savour and holy unction." " In his application he used to be uncommonly animated; most searching and close in his appeals to the con- science; very rousing and awful when addressing unconverted sinners, formalists, and hypocrites. But he never finished his appeal to these characters without opening ministerially the door of mercy, and pressing and directing them most earnestly to the Saviour. He was most tender, aficctionate, and consoling, in addressing weak believers, wounded consciences, and tempted and doubting souls."* " When he thought himself speaking to a number of truly spiritual persons, his illustrations of the precious truths and mysteries of salvation were remarkably clear, copious, comprehensive, attractive, and refreshing. "t He thus shunned not to declare the " whole counsel of God," to give to each of his hearers " a portion of meat in due season." In his public labours, his diligence was most exemplary, be- cause proceeding from the purest principles, and sustained by the highest motives. " I need not particularize," says Dr Love, " his zeal and activity in the work of his immediate charge, which gave him, through the blessing of God, a great and salu- tary command and influence over people from the Highlands in this place, (Greenock), in the lower classes of society; and which extended itself to serious people in general, and in some remarkable instances, to persons in the higher situations of so- ciety. His zeal and benevolence, however, were of a very ex- pansive character. They led him to take deep interest in the work of God in other neighbouring places. This was remark- ably manifest for a series of years, respecting the great awaken- ing which appeared in the Island of Arran, under the late ex- cellent Mr Neil M'Bride, minister of Kilmorie parish ; for some * Funeral Sermon by the Rev. Mr M^Kenzie of Gorbals, translated from the Gaelic. + Dr Love's Fmieral Sermon, p. 30. MRS WILSON. 15 years in a more silent form, afterwards with very striking and solemn circumstances; and the fruits of which are still clearly to be traced, though under great and various disadvantages.* He was, from the beginning, a warm friend of the London Mis- sionary Society; and was uniformly ready to promote every probable method of diffusing truth and pure religion through- out the world."t His private life corresponded with his public exertions. He was a most loving and dutiful husband, and a most affectionate, prudent, and faithful parent. He was warm and constant as a friend, and beloved as a neighbour. " He was given to hospitality. His conversation was at once habi- tually serious, and brightened by intelligence, inquisitiveness, and temperate pleasantry. His candour and good sense com- mended his society to some of those who differed from him in matters of church order, and even in articles still more momen- tous. To him belonged a modesty and diffidence, which some would account far beneath their dignity and sufficiency; while he was prepared, in cases where the voice of conscience is clear and strong, to manifest firmness, boldness, and consistency, worthy of a veteran in the Christian cause. ":{: * " In the spring of 1813," says Mr M'Millan, the excellent successor of Mr M'Bride, " this awakening began to decline, and ceased very soon after ; but those who were truly Christians, continued to enjoy, both in secret duties and in public ordinances, renewed and manifest tokens of the divine presence and favour. This was especially the case on sacra- mental occasions j at which they were favoured with the assistance of some of the most pious ministers of the day The late Rev. Messrs Bayne of Greenock, and Robertson of Kingussie, formerly of the Chapel of Rothsay, assisted here constantly for many years. The late Rev. Dr Love of Anderston assisted here occasionally; and the late Rev. Mr Mackenzie of Gorbals, formerly of the Gaelic Chapel, Duke Street, Glasgow, assisted here occasionally, but chiefly before the commence- ment of this work. These, along with the late Mr M'Bride himself, were considered, and I beUeve justly, among the most pious ministers of the day : but they have ceased from their labours, and their works do follow them. The more regular or occasional labours of these men were often blessed with seasons of refreshing from the presence of the Lord." — History of Revivals of Religion in the British Isles. f Sermon, pp. 30, 31. J Sermon, p. 80. 16 MEMOIR OF Margaret Hay, the partner of his life, was in every respect a " help meet" for this faithful servant of the Redeemer. Her father, the Rev. James Hay, D.D., belonged to one of the most ancient and respectable families of Scotland; and it was a por- tion of that spirit, which led some of its members to espouse the cause of Christ, when exposed both to scorn and persecu- tion, which induced him to decline the honours of the world for the service of the church. " The memory of that worthy and eminent individual," it is said in the Missionary Magazine,* " will be long revered and esteemed by the godly in this north country, where he was successively minister of three different charges, Inverury, Dyce, and Elgin. In these he laboured with much diligence and faithfulness, and not without success. He was a very zealous affectionate preacher, and remarkably spirit- ually minded. Much attention was paid by him to the reli- gious education of his family, and the Lord abundantly repaid his labours, by vouchsafing his blessing upon them." The daughter, to whom we particularly refer, had great natural en- dowments, and, previously to her marriage in 1793, had made no ordinary attainments in Christian experience, as appears from such of her letters as have been preserved. Throughout the whole subsequent course of her life, she was distinguished for the intimacy of her walk with God, and great sweetness of temper, remarkable prudence, and affectionate devotedness to her husband and large and interesting family. Of her charac- ter and conduct, the highest eulogies, by those who intimately knew her, are now before me. Instead of inserting them, I give place to the following anec- dote:— " It is strikingly illustrative," says the friend who com- municates it to me,t " of the elevated and habitual spirituality of Mrs Bayne, and also of the edifying manner in which she, and her distinguished husband, maintained Christian inter- course with those who sojourned under their roof It was re- lated to us by an excellent clergyman, who is still living, and labouring in the church of God. ' I shall never forget,' said Jie, ' the last visit which I made to Mr Bayne during Mrs * May 1801. f Mr A. Simpson of Port-Glasgow. MRS WILSON. 17 Bayne's lifetime. It was only two weeks before her death, and she was in her ordinary health. My intercourse with her, on former occasions, had impressed me with a high idea of the su- perior nature of her mental endowments, and of the depth of her religious experience ; but, during the visit to which I now allude, there appeared such a heavenliness and spirituality per- vading her whole conversation, that more than once I felt the thought borne in upon my mind, that she was ripe for glory. On the last evening of my visit, after the other members of the family had retired to rest, Mrs Bayne, her husband, and my- self, sat around the parlour fire. After some interesting con- versation,— during which a glow of Christian feeling seemed to pervade every breast, — she suggested that a passage of Scrip- ture might be proposed, upon which her husband and myself should state our opinions. I requested, that if such was to be the case, she herself should propose the passage. After a little hesitation, she proposed these words. We walk by faith, not hy sight. After her husband and I had made some remarks on the passage, I requested that she should do the same in turn. This she declined; but on my insisting that she must have had some reason for proposing the passage, she took the Bible, and stated her view with a clearness and precision which quite asto- nished me. Never shall I forget the manner in which she con- cluded her remarks. * One thing too generally overlooked, but inseparably connected with living by faith, is a habitual realiz- ing of the glorious object of faith; and this is not merely when engaged in his more immediate service, but when conducting the ordinary affairs of life.' ' For myself,' she continued, ' and I desire to ascribe it to the praise of unmerited grace, I have not, for the last three years of my life, known what it is to en- gage in the most trivial matter, without realizing his presence, and having some way or other fellowship with him.' Having said this, she was unable to control her feelings, and burst into tears. The effect upon us may be conceived. I left her happy dwelling the following day, and the next intelligence I received was, that her walk by faith had terminated, and that that grace, of which she was such a distinguished monument, 18 MEMOIR OF had issued in her introduction to the beatific vision of God and the Lamb." Of the honoured servants of the Lord, to whose character we have thus briefly alluded, Margaret, the subject of this Memoir, was the second daughter and child. She was born at Greenock on the 5th November 1795. The prayers which were offered up on her behalf, from the first moments of her existence, seem to have been graciously heard ; and the unremitting endeavours which parental affection, and the deepest sense of sacred duty, called forth and sustained, were abundantly blessed. Of her early years, I am able, through the kindness of friends, to give some interesting notices. " From the first, Margaret was remarkable for sprightliness and vivacity, tempered by uncommon sweetness of disposition. Even as an infant, there was something peculiarly interesting in her appearance. I distinctly recollect her spoken of as a very lovely and engaging child. Her open and ingenuous disposi- tion was early manifested ; and her rare disinterestedness and generosity were often held up, not merely for our admiration, but for our imitation. I never knew one so young more en- tirely devoid of every kind and degree of selfishness. She could literally have bereft herself of all she possessed, to benefit, or gratify, a friend or fellow-creature, thus seeming intuitively to feel, and to act upon the principle, that ' It is more blessed to give than to receive.' On the delicacy and acuteness of her sensibility, the tenderness of her sympathy, the warmth and glow of her affection and benevolence, I need not expatiate. Add to these qualities, great frankness and cordiality of man- ner, and none will wonder, that one so gifted and endowed by nature, apart from what she afterwards became through human culture and divine grace, was a special favourite with persons of almost every description; — with all, in short, who had the slightest perception of what is lovely and attractive in charac- ter, or amiable and engaging in manners. " When four or five years old, she was sent to school. The teacher, Mrs M., an intelligent and pious lady, was deemed eminently qualified for the office. Her method of teaching MRS WILSON. 19 was, at that period, considered very superior. Faithful and affectionate in the discharge of her important duties, she spared no pains in the moral and religious training of her pupils, and watched for their souls, as one who must give an account, tak- ing every opportunity of explaining and enforcing, with the utmost fidelity and tenderness, the principles of the word of life. This excellent teacher was consequently regarded by each individual scholar as her beloved friend, as well as revered in- structress. Our exercises on the Saturdays resembled those of the Sabbath school. They consisted chiefly of a revision of the Psalms, Hymns, Catechism, and portions of Scripture, which we had committed to memory during the week. A suitable lesson was prescribed for the Sabbath ; and on Mondays we occa- sionally recited the texts, and gave an account of the ser- mons we had heard, and the other exercises in which we had been engaged on the previous day. I have been thus minute, because the character of the teacher may have exerted an im- portant influence in the formation of the character of one, who was no less distinguished for her many rare and admirable qua- lities, than for her zeal and devotedness in the missionary cause. Dearest Margaret remained at this school for several years, and afterwards she attended classes at a public seminary. " I may here record one or two providential escapes which she experienced when very young. She was one day walking in a field where a cow was feeding, and with her usual fearless- ness of danger, she ran directly to the animal, which, getting enraged, in a moment raised her on its horns, and threw her to a considerable distance. She was tossed directly across a deep well, and placed upon its very brink ! Had she been thrown not quite so far, she must either have been precipitated into the water, or dashed against the stones which formed a sort of fence around it. On another occasion, with some companions, she had got into an open cart, when the horse took fright, and set off at full speed, its driver being unable to overtake it. Most providentially, a gentleman who was coming along the road, went boldly forward, and caught the reins just at the moment her head had gone through an open space in the bottom of the cart. A minute later, and the result might have been fatal. 20 MEMOIR OF Than the marked deliverances here adverted to, another of greater moment was early vouchsafed to Margaret Bayne. This was the unspeakably precious and important deliverance which the Saviour extends to all whom the Spirit inclines to take re- fuge in his grace. The following notice of it is by one of her most intimate and endeared friends : — " The beginning of my intercourse with Margaret was at an early period of our existence, — at that bright season, when all looks fair and attractive, and life seems to promise a succession of enjoyments, which are without limit and without end. Bu ere she had time to learn from experience that such hopes are fallacious, God had graciously touched her heart, and enabled her, like Mary of old, to choose the better part. She chose it with all the warmth of young affection, for her heart was full of sensibility and tenderness. Her dispositions were a fine com- bination of warmth of affection and disinterestedness of feeling ; her talents were of the first order; and her after acquirements were of such a description as brought them into full play, and formed a character at once lovely and attractive. But she brought all to the foot of the Cross, and for a time, with weep- ing and mourning, she was made to experience what it is to be in bitterness through manifold temptations. But in all this, the Almighty was only preparing the ground for the mighty harvest it was afterwards to yield, when she became as a well- watered garden, drinking in the dews of heaven, and deriving strength and spiritual vigour from the Sun of Righteousness. " Her dear father spared no pains in training the minds of his children, but did not allow them to have many companions. Owing, however, to a long standing friendship between him and my mother, I was admitted to this privilege; and I can never forget the seasons of spiritual improvement then enjoyed : — How on the evenings of the Sabbath, when the labours of the day were ended, in the retirement of the domestic circle, his whole soul seemed to expand, and his conversation breathed forth those heavenly feelings and affections which overflowed his heart : And, on other occasions, with what holy earnestness, with what glowing affection, he warned and admonished us; and how he would intersperse his remarks and entreaties with MRS WILSON. 21 portions of his own past life and experience, — all making it clear to our young minds, that nothing was worth living for, except in so far as it was connected with our immortal interests and the concerns of eternity. " Mr Bayne, who took us out to walk with him, frequently turned our attention to the beauties of the surrounding scenery. He taught us how to combine the admiration of the beauties of nature with the service and the love of nature's God. Many a lovely association, many a striking emblem, were then brought before our ininds. I recollect, one evening in particular, his turning our attention to the sinking sun, and bringing forward some beautiful associations connected with the grand spectacle before us. After showing us a great variety of types and em- blems, which this was calculated to suggest to the mind of a Christian, he paused, and asked us if we could not furnish one other type or emblem, — thus making us a party in his own sub- lime feelings and aspirations, and teaching us, in the way most likely to be beneficial, how a Christian connects all the objects around him with the glorious Being who made them, and finds the source and the centre of every thing in his God. These were blessed seasons, — seasons for which T shall one day have to give an account. I might say much of misimprovement. But as it is not of myself I am writing, I forbear. On the mind of my beloved friend, they made a deep, a powerful impression; and I have no doubt, were instrumental in laying the founda- tion of that rare superstructure, which afterwards developed it- self in her character. She was, indeed, as a tree planted by the rivers of water, whose leaf did not wither, and which brought forth fruit in due season." How far the amiabilities, which early discovered themselves in Margaret Bayne, were connected with her distinguished natu- ral endowments and affections, and how far they were the result of the gracious work of the Spirit of God within her, it is im- possible to say. Her mind seemed impressed with religion from the first moment of its being capable of receiving instruction, and she could remember no period when the great Teacher was not striving to bring her under the holy influence of the Divine Word. How highly favoured was she in the enjoyment of this 22 MEMOIR OF sovereign goodness ! Its effects in the prevention of the deve- lopment of evil, and the formation of her lovely character, must have been great indeed. Some may suppose that it left no room for the deep and alarming convictions of sin, which she after- wards experienced j but those who look to the spirituality and extent of the law of God, and to the demands which he has on the love, and affection, and enjoyment, and service of his intelli- gent creatures, will readily perceive that no ordinary virtuous demeanour with reference to man, is perfectly compatible with great alienation of the heart from God. The peculiarity of her first religious emotions was, that there was more in them of so- lemnity than comfort. She had a more distinct view of her own demerit, than of the freeness and fulness of the Gospel offer. She was more deeply persuaded that there is salvation in Christ, than that, as united to Christ by faith, she herself participated in that salvation. She fell into the error, through which thou- sands fall short of well-grounded hope, of being more anxious, in the first instance, to trace the effects of faith, than to discover its warrants. The love of the Lord, however, rested upon her ; and it was not removed. That grace which awakened the anxious inquiry, " What must I do to be saved?" in the Lord's own good time gave the answer which brought with it both joy and peace, with the never failing accompaniment of love, mani- festing itself in active and universal obedience. Her parents' instructions were the great means of unfolding to her the suit- ableness of the Saviour to her moral wants; and, at the time to which we here particularly allude, they appear to have been the principal instruments of her spiritual edification and intellectual growth. When about the age of thirteen, she was removed, for a short time, from the immediate care of her father and mother. Their parental Christian anxiety, however, had made becoming provi- sion for a due attention to her best interests during her absence. She went to a boarding school at Kilmarnock, where she re- mained upwards of a year. Her teacher, Mrs H., was the friend of her first instructress, Mrs M., and a person of real piety and worth. To the improvement of her pupils she was most atten- tive, and amongst these, Margaret Bayne was viewed as highly MRS WILSON. 23 distinguislied, and as likely to rise to notice in the world. One of her fellow-scholars, and most beloved friends, Miss C, in 1820, thus brings to her recollection the privileges which she enjoyed when under the care of Mrs H. " I seem again to be transported to her room, along with others, and examined on a Sabbath evening as to the sermons which we had heard through- out the day, before we poured out our hearts at the footstool of the Most High. You cannot have forgotten these scenes, nor the marked approbation with which she commended the superior memories of yourself and , nor how she pressed home to you the parable of the talents^ Greater advantages than those now referred to, were enjoyed on Margaret's return to Grreenock, and her parental abode, though these were, alas ! speedily impaired by the removal of her inesti- mable mothein The death of Mrs Bayne took place on the 13th January 1811. She was ready, as we have seen, for her great change ; but her departure from this world formed an affliction of no ordinary magnitude to her husband and children, some of whom were in a state of infancy, or little removed from it. Margaret's mind, in particular, was deeply exercised with this dispensation. " A distinct recollection I have of her, after the removal of our bless- ed mamma," writes one of her sisters, " and it is a remembrance which is associated with all that is deep and sacred. . . . This affecting dispensation, no doubt, powerfully tended to influence the solemn workings of her spirit. Well do I remember her often secretly wondering what could be the charm and fascina- tion to her naturally animated spirit, of the old and ofttimes forbidding-looking volumes, that she never ceased to pore over. So wholly absorbed was her mind in the contemplation of holy things, that prayer, secret and social prayer, meditation, and at- tendance on the public ordinances of God, might be said to have been her meat and her drink." It was about the time at which we have now arrived, that Margaret Bayne was first admitted to the " table of the Lord." Of the general state of her mind and of the spiritual attainments at which she had arrived, when she first enjoyed the privilege of contemplating, through the simple and affecting symbols of the 24 MEMOIR OF " Supper," the broken body and shed blood of Christ, and of re- ceiving the seal of God's faithfulness in his eternal covenant, we have an interesting account. " I recollect her speaking to me," writes Miss , " on the subject of our first admission to the Lord's table, (which, with both of us, was at an early period,) and asking me how I had felt. She then told me the state of her own mind, deploring its unworthiness, and breathing such desires for spirituality of mind, as could only originate in a heart which the Lord had prepared for himself. At this time, she had a conscience so tender, that she often trembled to meet with, or speak to worldly people, for fear of being made a partaker of their sins ; and when it was possible, she always declined any invitation to spend an evening with her companions in the amusements to which young people usually betake themselves. But if there was to be a meeting of a religious n^ure, there was she always to be found. * Be not conformed to the world,' was her constant maxim, and she carried the spirit of it into every thing. In getting any new piece of dress, she was always care- ful that it should be made without ornament; and if, in any of these things, she was fearful beyond what was required, — if, at this period of her life, she did, in any degree, go to an extreme, it furnished evidence of a spirit panting after conformity to the image of the blessed Saviour ! Her uncommon advancement in Christian attainments made her the friend, not of the young but of the aged. I have often been struck with the love which many aged Christians manifested towards her. Many a prayer was offered on her account. Many a blessing was called down upon her head. " Her father's ministerial friends were all deeply interested in her. She was an especial favourite with Dr Love. He often entered into conversation with her, and showed her many little kindnesses and attentions, which gave evidence of the high place she held in his esteem. Some of the individuals, who had been solemnly and permanently affected, during the events which took place in the Isle of Arran some time before, were in the habit of coming to Greenock on sacramental occasions. These persons were the subjects of deep feeling, often of powerful emotion. They spent much of their time in private exercises, and, except \ MRS WILSON. 25 in presence of a minister, or advanced Christian, were silent and reserved. But with Margaret, they were all love, openness, and affection. She seemed bound to their very hearts. I have seen their downcast depressed countenances beam with delight when she presented herself before them, and a word of mutual recogni- tion would follow, and a look of affection would be exchanged, which only the heart of a Christian can understand or estimate. She was occasionally in the habit of accompanying her father when he went from home on sacramental occasions. She loved to be a comfort to him; and she seemed, at these seasons, to be moving in an element of sanctified enjoyment." About two years after the death of Mrs Bayne, Margaret, un- der her father's directions, received for a time the peculiar charge of the other members of the family. " I well remember," says one of those who experienced her care, " how every day only increased my love and admiration of her, and how there were blended in us, with something like the veneration due to a pa- rent, feelings at once joyous, happy, and unrestrained." " Her feelings in relation to the younger members of the family," writes Miss , "were at times almost overpowering; and many a prayer did she offer, many a tear did she shed, on their account. She often said, that, having been deprived of a mother's care and instructions, the responsibility of training them up for God lay upon the elder members. And, ' 0, if they should fall short, from any neglect of ours, how awful the thought, how deep the responsibility.' On these occasions, I have known her retire with one after another of her younger sisters, that she might in- struct, entreat, and pray with them. Was not this a portion of the same spirit, which, when expanded, enlightened, and sancti- fied, afterwards carried her across the mighty ocean, induced her to devote herself to the conversion of the heathen, and made her a blessing to many on the distant shores of India? It is in- teresting, it is profitable, to watch the steps by which a mind like her s was moulded and prepared for an undertaking so full of interest to herself, and so important to others." Nor were her labours to promote the best interest of those so dear to her, " in vain in the Lord." To one of her brothers, who was early removed from this vale of tears, they were, in a parti- 26 MEMOIR OF cular manner, blessed. His last illness commenced when he was only four years old; but as it was of a lingering nature, he re- quired great attention. " He had a nurse most assiduous in her regard to all his little wants," writes one of his sisters, " but Margaret devoted herself to him with the tenderness and love of a mother, anxious above all things for the completion of that work of grace which would render him fit for the high and holy employ of heaven. And I rejoice to say, that ere the emanci- pated spirit of this dear and most lovely child took its flight into the blessed regions of light and joy, precious evidence was given that the Spirit of love and of holiness had been tracing on him the lineaments of the Redeemer's image. One Sabbath, when he had been suffering much from his breathing and cough, Margaret, ever ready to minister to others, would not leave him, but allow- ed the nurse to go to church, and kept him reclining on her knee all day. I was at home in the afternoon, but a sermon was preached to me, which I trust I shall never forget. The scene was inexpressibly touching, and even my heart, so full as it was at the time, of childish folly, could not resist altogether so im- pressive a scene. The lovely child, irradiated, I would almost say, with holy beauty, lay on her knee in mild and calm repose. His great suffering having for a time subsided, all was hushed into peace. Margaret's soul seemed prostrate at the footstool of the Most High, or wafted to the throne above, and each for a time seemed unconscious of the other's presence ; but, on our again looking at our little sufferer, the soft but large tears were seen fast falling from his eyes, and bathing, in moistened loveliness, his hectic cheek. Margaret pressed him to her breast, and said, * I fear you are suffering much, my darling child?' ' 0 ! no,' said he, with a look and tone altogether indescribable. ' It is not my sufferings that cause my tears to flow ; but it is the love of the blessed Jesus, in taking up little children in his arms and bless- ing them, which overpowers me.' " Other expressions, not less remarkable in a child of his tender years, were uttered by him before he was received up into the bosom of that Saviour whose grace had attracted his young affections. Some time after this, the subject of this Memoir went to Aber- deen for the completion of her education. She was placed in MRS WILSON. 27 the house of one of the professors of King's College, an old and confidential friend of her father, to whose care he could with all security commit his child. " Here," says Miss , " I can trace a part of the mighty training which was more fully to pre- pare her for that extended sphere of usefulness she was afterwards to fill. The charms of science and literature completely fasci- nated her. Her talents were admired, her society was sought after, and she failed not to win the friendship and the affection of many, of whose acquaintance she might well be proud. She delighted in the study of mathematics and astronomy. She read much and deeply on almost every subject; and her conversation was at once brilliant and attractive." Of this residence at Aberdeen, a near relative gives an account similar to that already quoted. " She became enamoured of study. Intellectual pursuits seemed to have filled her ardent mind with a kind of intoxicating rapture, and the deepest philo- sophical works became her evening and morning study. She turned her attention to several branches of natural philosophy, and studied mathematics; but in all the circle of the natural sciences, astronomy was what she most delighted in. The me- chanism of the heavens, the glory of the sun, the moon, and the stars, were subjects on which she delighted to expatiate; and in contemplating these, she felt she might give play to that enthu- siasm and poetical spirit which characterised her. Moral philo- sophy attracted her with a charm altogether new and peculiar ; and with the works of the most distinguished ethical and meta- physical writers, both ancient and modern, she became minutely and familiarly acquainted. But her's was a mind not to be sa- tisfied with reading merely; she thought, she reasoned, she re- flected, and she wrote for herself. I think I never heard of one, in whose character the most opposite qualities so beautifully blended and harmonized together as in her; one reflecting a charm on the other, while, in the most beautiful keeping, all the feminine graces of tenderness were to be found in richest luxu- riance." Gratif)dng, however, as were the results of her enthusiastic application to study, in an intellectual, they were hurtful in a moral point of view. Her literary engagements, though intrin- 28 MEMOIR OF sically good, and ultimately overruled for the extension of her usefulness, were pursued with an application, which formed a strong temptation to the neglect, in some degree, of the means of grace, which she had previously used with great relish and diligence. Her delight in prayer, in the perusal of God's own word, and in the contemplation of the Divine Providence, be- came less intense than it had formerly been. Her intellect at- tempted the work of faith resting on the divine promises. Her spiritual vigour became weakened. Earth became possessed to her of new attractions, and her aspirations after heaven became less ardent. " For a season," says Miss , " she was left to drink of turbid waters, and to neglect the precious wells of sal- vation which had before nourished her. She had been for a little in the gay world, introduced to scenes diiferent from the pious calm of her father's house ; and she returned apparently a changed creature, so much were her Christian feelings chilled and paralyzed. Still, however, she was one of those, of whom it may be said in the words of inspiration, ' If they forsake his law, and walk not in his testimonies, if they break his statutes, and keep not his commandments, he will visit their transgressions with the rod, and their iniquities with stripes. But his loving kindness will he not take from them, nor suflfer his faithfulness to fail.' And truly the good Shepherd forsook not this straying one. He sought her in the wilderness, and taught her by painful experience, that the soul which had once been nourished by the living waters of the well of Bethlehem, cannot long be satisfied with the deepest draughts of mere worldly enjoyments. Indeed, all was working together for the accomplishment of the great purposes which the Lord had in view for her, and He was leading her by a way which she un- derstood not. He was preparing her to meet the learned and the accomplished on their own ground; and then he taught her the heart-affecting lesson, that she had ' erred from his way like a lost sheep.' This lesson was salutary, in proportion as it was humbling. She had been out on the ocean of life's temptations, but the bow of promise appeared in the cloud. Like Noah's dove, she reached the ark of safety. She cast her anchor within the veil, and planted her foot upon the rock of ages, with greater MRS WILSON. 29 security than ever. Like Hagar of old, the eyes of her faith were opened, and she saw the well of living water, which, though near, had been neglected and unperceived. Like Jacob, she was wandering in the wilderness, a stranger and an outcast from her Father's house. But there the Lord met her, imparted to her a realizing sense of his presence, and enabled her to make with him a covenant never to be forgotten." This account of her temporary religious declension, is fraught with solemn and important instruction. It shows how even law- ful and laudable pursuits become detrimental to the Christian mind, when they are immoderately engaged in, and when they are not directly and habitually connected with the exercises of devotion. It teaches the deceitfulness, both of the world, in its fairest promises, and apparently most innocent enjoyments, and of the human heart, though renewed by the Spirit of God, and partly sanctified. It inculcates the propriety of humility^ cir- cumspection, and watchfulness. Its language is, " Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." Let him who has reason to believe that he has experienced the regeneration of the Spirit, and is a child of God, never for a day rest satisfied with- out that spiritual nourishment through which he can attain to mature growth, to the full stature of a perfect man in Christ Jesus. On her return home from Aberdeen, Margaret, desirous of turning her attainments to a profitable account, expressed a wish to superintend the education of her younger sisters, who were accordingly withdrawn from their public classes, and placed under her charge. She secured and retained their affections to a wonderful degree, communicated to each of them a large por- tion of her own zeal and enthusiasm in the acquisition of know- ledge, smoothed the rugged path of science, and strewed it with roses, cheered them as they advanced, directed their minds to the contemplation of nature's God, and to the marks of his wis- dom, power, faithfulness, and bounty, which all his works exhi- bit. Her scholastic engagements with them were profitable to her own mind. They gave greater precision and order to her ideas. They whetted her appetite for information. They formed a powerful motive to literary exertion. 30 MEMOIR OF Her own studies, to whicli she applied herself with ardour and delight, were not confined to the branches of knowledge already mentioned. She devoted much attention to the polite literature of Britain, and especially to its poetry, to which she was passion- ately attached, the beauties and sublimities of which she appre- ciated, and which awoke all the tenderest sympathies of her soul. Religious poetry, as worthy of the emotions which its loftiest in- spiration excites, met with her greatest attention ; and she was enriched with its treasures to a degree which I have never seen surpassed. With civil and ecclesiastical history, she had an in- timate acquaintance; and on the wonderful providences therein unfolded and illustrated, she could descant in a strain at once philosophical and devout. The most profound theological works she read with avidity, though, as she afterwards regretted, she gave for some time the preference in her attention to those which are more distinguished for the independence of their speculations, and the subtleties and intricacies of their metaphysics, than for their faithful collection of the divine testimony scattered through- out the pages of revelation, their legitimate deductions from that testimony, and their powerful application of it for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, and instruction in righteousness. In the ancient language of Rome, she had made considerable progress. Through the medium of their native tongues, she became familiar with the best authors of France and Italy. The German liter- ature she studied as far as translations and a slight knowledge of the language could carry her. The romance of Indian my- thology and philosophy, as unfolded by the incomparable Jones, the learned and imaginative Maurice, and the critical and phi- losophical Schlegel, who all, to a great extent, over-estimate its importance, had much of her consideration ; and this study, on being corrected by her personal observation and research in Hindustan, ultimately proved available for the accomplishment of much good. Her knowledge, so extensive, was not merely deposited in her mind, but associated in every form with the exercise of her own thought and feeling. Her imagination and memory, her genius and judgment, were alike admired by all who enjoyed her acquaintance. MRS WILSON. 31 CHAPTER IT. DEATH OF HEB FATHER — SANCTIFIED AFFLICTION — LETTERS ADMINISTERING CHRISTIAN COMFORT — BENEVOLENT ENGAGEMENTS IN GREENOCK — ESTIMATE OF WORLDLY ENJOYMENTS — A PARENT'S FORM CONTEMPLATED — DEPARTURE FROM GREENOCK — RESIDENCE IN INVERNESS-SHIRB. We have mentioned the progress which Margaret Bajoie had made in literary studies, and the effects which, in consequence of the manner in which they had been pursued, they produced, for a short time, on her moral feelings. We have now to view her as learning in a new school, that of salutary, because sanc- tified, affliction. Under the severe trials which we are about to notice, she could experimentally appropriate to herself the lan- guage of the poet : Talk of retirement ? Academic shades, The student's chamber, and the midnight lamp, The storied hall, where learning holds her seat ? There is a place which teaches better far, Where some have leam'd who never learn'd before; And all, who in that solemn sanctuary Read, and read rightly the deep book unveil'd. Bear wisdom high and sanctified away : It is, The silent chamber of the dead ! There have I now been taught how painfully ! But grant me, gracious Spirit, by whose aid Alone all teaching blesses, that the shaft. Shot through the heart, may bring diviner health ! Edmesione. " I now come," says Miss , to whose notes we have been already much indebted, " to that affecting period when her dear father's services in the lower sanctuary being concluded, his Divine Master suddenly issued the invitation, *Come up hither.' The last Sabbath of his life, he assisted at the dispensation of the 32 MEMOIR OF Lord's Supper at Glasgow. He took a part in almost every ser- vice, and was unusually earnest and affectionate. At this time he was accompanied by dear Margaret. She afterwards told me, that early in the morning of the Communion Sabbath, he tapped at her room door, and coming in, he began to converse with her on the subject of that day's approaching solemnity. He spoke of the duty of self-examination and of prayer. He said, that unless these were performed, not as a task, but in the Spirit, no one could be prepared to sit down at that table, and partake of the symbols of a Saviour's broken body and shed blood. He then spoke of the ordinance as a sweet foretaste of heavenly enjoy- ments; and he seemed to experience the highest anticipations of that state of blessedness on which he was so soon to enter. He then, with great solemnity, gave Margaret a token of admission to the Lord's table, and said, he trusted she would there meet Him who was especially set forth in that ordinance. He kneeled down and prayed with such fervour, that Margaret told me that when he rose to depart, she felt such a tumult of overpowering emotion, that she could only say, with a burst of tears, ' Dear papa, pray for me.' " It was agreed, that on the following Thursday I was to ac- company him and Margaret to Greenock. On the afternoon of Wednesday, he told Margaret that he felt unwell, and proposed returning home immediately, and that we should follow next day, when he hoped to meet us on the quay. But, alas ! what was the scene that awaited us ? He was stretched upon the bed of death, though at the time we knew not that it was such. His sufferings were intense : but his mind was at peace. I have no doubt he knew that he had entered the Jordan, and that the ark of the blessed covenant was full in his view. The few words he was able to speak, were full of submission, of confidence, of that hope which maketh not ashamed. On that sad night, most of us went to bed, little thinking what was at hand. In the morn- ing of Friday the 13th April 1821, we were awakened by the first sounds of lamentation and grief. He had departed, — the chariot of Israel had conveyed away his spirit, and all that was left to us was the precious dust of one we so much loved. This was a scene never to be described. To us, it was enveloped in thick MRS WILSON. 33 darkness. To hirn it was the bright and glorious morning of an everlasting day. It is impossible to speak of the state of any mind under a stroke so sudden, so appalling. But two letters received when my dear friend became capable of exercis- ing her mind, will show that this affliction, though for the pre- sent not joyous, but grievous, did afterwards work in her sub- dued heart the peaceable fruits of righteousness." These letters are the following : « Greenock, 2ith May 1821. " I promised to write to you, my beloved friend, but the agi- tated state of my feelings rendered me incapable till now of even this slight degree of exertion. You, my dear friend, were with us on that morning which is associated in our minds with such bitter and agonising recollections. You witnessed the first par- oxysms of our sorrow, and you can picture, in idea, our subse- quent feelings, when the thought of its yet being an illusive dream had completely gone off. I shall not describe our feel- ings at that period. There is a state of mental suffering which not only paralyses the energies of thought, but which seems even to give a temporary suspension to its operations. Such was the. state of our minds after we parted with you, and at the time we received your affectionate and consolatory letter. " You do not say with many around us. Weep not ! This is like the mockery of woe; but you are acquainted with the in- ward sources of sorrow, and know that it results from the unal- terable constitution of our minds. You have known the tender and endearing relation which subsists between a beloved parent and child, and can form some idea of the piercing pangs which must attend the separation. Our loss is irreparable ! It is un- speakably great. We have not only lost a father tenderly alive to the feelings of parental affection, but we have lost our in- structor and guide, the dearest of our earthly relatives ! Oh ! is it indeed possible that my beloved father is no longer an in- habitant of this world; that the hours of delightful enjoyment, when we conversed familiarly with him, are gone for ever ; and that we must tread the thorny path of life without his instruc- tions and without his prayers! My heart bleeds — it rends; 34 MEMOIR OF and were there no hopes beyond this transitory existence, I feel as if I could take refuge in the grave, and for ever close my eyes on the scenes of this world. But why do I distress you, my dearest friend? You suffered with us, and let us together pause for a moment to consider that there is a God who ruleth in the earth, that the events of Providence are appointed and fixed in his eternal councils, and that they result from his infi- nite and unerring wisdom. This consideration ought of itself to reconcile us, in some measure, to the vicissitudes and changes of our earthly life; but we have also a theme of de- lightful contemplation, in the certainty that the object of our warmest affections is now enjoying perfect and uninterrupted felicity ; that he is in the possession of happiness, compared to which, earthly joys fade into insignificance, or appear only as a modification of that woe which has given its signature and stamp to our physical and moral condition. It is true, indeed, that our limited conception can no more form an adequate notion of unlimited enjoyment, than our finite understanding can com- prehend Him who is infinite. The language employed to give us a representation of this happiness, is, for the most part, metaphorical; but it combines every object of possession and desire, which enters into our idea of perfect good. And who can think for a moment of that throne which is in the midst of Paradise; of the river, pure as crystal, which issues from it; or of the tree of life, which is beautifully descriptive of the bound- less diversities of knowledge that shall be laid open to us, with- out feeling emotions of delight and awe? But, above all, who can pass from these objects to the contemplation of Him who is the source of all their perfection, and who, in uncreated glory and beauty, presides over them, without being lost in admira- tion and speechless joy? 0, then, let us not gaze on the dark side of the cloud, when a scene of such bright and unclouded majesty opens beyond it ! Let us not fix our thoughts on the fleeting objects of time, when they are already receding from our view, and when eternity, in its endlessness of duration, is every succeeding moment coming nearer to us. Let us not look to the grave as if it were the termination and boundary of MRS WILSON. 35 our hopes, when we know that the immortal spirit of him who was so dear to us, is already in the regions of pure and consum- mate j 07. " I feel that I am yet far off from God ; but there are moments when I can look upward to heaven and rejoice in the happiness of one so deservedly dear to me, though I myself should be for ever shut out. May I request you to pray for me, my dear friend ! I feel myself to be indeed the chief of sinners. Sin has darkened my understanding ; it has deadened my moral feelings; it has estranged me from purity, from hap- piness, from God. It is in the hours of darkness that we are made to feel the efficacy and value of that atonement which Christ Jesus made for his people. 0 that we could indeed feel it aright, and that we were sincerely and truly brought to receive him on the terms which he has himself proposed to us ! ' The covenant,' says Jeremy Taylor, ' which Christ made with his people, was a covenant of sufferings ; his very promises are sufferings; and the inheritance which he procured for them was purchased by his sufferings.' What a striking picture of the Christian's hope ; what a glorious representation of his inheri- tance ! " You promised to come down, my dear friend. I need not specify any particular time, as that which suits you will be per- fectly convenient for us. If you think it would be too much for your feelings yet to venture down, let me request to hear from you. Write about my beloved father, and do not think any thing you can say will agitate me. I have but one feeling, and I know that it will accompany me to the grave — it is that of respect for his memory, and the desire of cherishing his image. 0 what a loss is ours ! Others saw him in public, but we enjoyed in private his conversation and prayers. It is, in- deed, in the scenes of domestic retirement, that a character such as my father's appears to the greatest advantage. There, alone, you could contemplate the powers of his comprehensive mind, and see that when the attainments of science and literature were within his grasp, he renounced them all for the more glo- rious employment of being an ambassador for Christ in turning souls to righteousness. But it was not only the extensiveness 36 MEMOIR OF and acuteness of his intellectual faculties tliat must have struck an attentive observer; the variety and accuracy of his know- ledge were equally striking. I have often, when conversing with him alone, on literary subjects, been quite astonished with the ingenuity which he displayed. . . . The world did not know him; but though its fascinating allurements had been spread around him, he would have spurned them away, for his inheri- tance was in heaven, and he wished also to have his thoughts there. Of late, in particular, I think he enjoyed more com- munion with God, and had brighter anticipations of his heaven- ly inheritance; but I fear I have already exhausted you.* I do not know what I have written, and I cannot read it over. — Yours, &c., M. B." " Greenock, 22c? November 1821. " I was much gratified, my dear friend, by receiving your let- ters, and although I was so long in acknowledging them, they were to me a source of melancholy satisfaction and delight. I cannot, indeed, think of you without bringing to view that morning which is connected in our minds by so many indisso- luble and painful remembrances. Time generally weakens the impressions of sorrow, but it brings also in its course occurrences and events which open anew its sources, and make the wounds which seemed healed, to bleed afresh. We cannot recur for a * The regard in which this excellent minister was generally held by the people of the Lord, may be illustrated by the following extracts from the published journal of Mrs Simpson, one of his occasional auditors. " This day died at his house, that dear and precious servant of God, the Rev. Mr Bayne He was an able minister of the New Testament, and one of the most singular preachers in this part of the country, for addressing all the diversified cases of saints and sinners. I have heard two very intelligent gentlemen observe, that under his ministry, they have felt as if he were going through their souls with a lighted candle. I have often felt myself, that for a long time after I have heard him preach from any passage of Scripture, it would appear like a lamp of light 0 what a gloom his death has spread on every thing around! what a blank is there in the whole creation ! what a loss this world has sustained! how much holiness and goodness are gone, never to be recall- ed! This neighbourhood could ill spare such a mighty wrestler with God, such an Israel as he was." MRS WILSON. 37 moment to past enjoyments, without finding that this is the case. Those occasional, or stated seasons, when we were wont to ex- perience the largest share of domestic happiness, cannot return without reminding us that he from whom this happiness flowed, and with whom it was participated, can no longer mingle or unite with us on earth. The hours at which we were accus- tomed to assemble, in a family capacity, to pour out our hearts to the God of prayer, and to ofier the incense of thanksgiving and praise to him who was so richly bestowing upon us his be- nefits, seldom come round, without bearing along with them the painful reflection, that he who stood nearest the altar, and was admitted most closely into the Divine presence, is no longer near to strengthen and support us. But above all, we cannot witness the return of that hallowed day when the voice which spoke to us in the accents of tender affection, spoke also as an ambassador of Christ, without feeling that while we are excluded from many religious privileges, he is made a partaker of perfect blessedness, and enjoying the festival of an eternal Sabbath above. " While I now write to you, my dearest friend, my thoughts are irresistibly carried back to the period of our last meeting, and to the melancholy cause which separated us. At this moment, that morning, in all its agonizing reality, is present to my view. I behold the countenance of my beloved, and now angelic, pa- rent. I listen to the confused and disturbed accents of sorrow. I feel that to us only it was a night of impenetrable darkness ; to him it was the splendour of an unclouded day, the unveiled glory of immortality, the perfection and beatitude of joy! When separated from the objects we love, the heart stands in peculiar need of consolation. And where can this consolation be found but in that Gospel which proclaims a message of glad tidings, and which contains the overtures of reconciliation and peace? Resignation, though in itself a single principle, has justly been considered as resulting from the union of many. We must feel our allegiance to the God who presides over the allotments of Providence, and who ministers at will the blessings of his grace, ere we can submit to his disposal, and submissively acquiesce in his will. We must repose unlimited confidence in the goodness of the Divine Being, and in that attribute of wisdom which is c 38 MEMOIR OF conjoined with, and necessarily accompanies it, before we can say, though our schemes of earthly happiness are frustrated, and the high hopes which animated us laid low, we know that we have in heaven an enduring inheritance. Beyond the boundary of our present vision, all is transporting and bright. Without the range of our sensible feelings, there are consolations which can inspire us with joy. Afflictions are sent to raise our aiFec- tions above the world, to convince us of the uncertainty of hu- man enjo3anent, to show us that life, whether cheered by pros- perity, or darkened by adversity, shall experience a termination, and soon come to a close. I know, my dear friend, the difficulty of attaining to this resignation. I feel that we enjoy little of that divine consolation which can support and comfort us in af- fliction; but I rejoice to believe that these consolations are open to all who receive them on the conditions of the Gospel. I bless God that they are thus in some measure placed within our reach ; that they are open to the grasp of our comprehension; that the oracles in which they are deposited are committed to our trust, and that they are not unfrequently communicated through the medium of earthly means. — I am, &c. M. B." These letters exhibit a mind in its general habitude, rightly exercised by affliction, — feeling its severity, but humbly acqui- escing in that wisdom, and relying on that grace by which it is appointed ; more anxious about a right improvement of it, than a speedy deliverance from it ; quickened to a lively discernment of the suitableness and preciousness of the atonement of Christ, in virtue of which God remits the debt, and subdues the iniquity of the most unworthy ; perceiving the utter vanity of every thing earthly as a source of happiness; looking from the darkness of the grave to the glory with which God's own throne is encircled ; following the spirit of the departed into the imperishable splen- dours of its effulgency; and anticipating the time when fellow- ship with it would be restored, never more to be interrupted or impeded. The state in which it was, was not produced by sim- ply allowing the torrent of grief to take its natural course, by engaging the mind in abstract meditation, or by favourably in- terpreting the ordinary workings of natural affection, and array- ing them with a sanctity which they do not possess. It was the MRS WILSON. 39 result of faith rightly exercised, of grace vouchsafed by the Di- vine Spirit, and working by the appointed means. Before it existed, there were contrition, and confession, and prayer, and the humble and eager perusal of God's testimony. " The throne of grace," writes one of her sisters, in reference to the trial to which we advert, " was Margaret's continual resort. There only did she find that she could give full expression to the overflow- ing burstings of her oppressed spirit. She would go over, with a depth of meaning, a look and tone, never to be forgotten, all the penitential psalms ; and often in the silence of night have her weeping accents been borne in upon my agonized and deso- late spirit, crying to God to receive her graciously, to love her freely, to dwell, to rule, to reign supreme in her heart and affec- tions. But I blush to say it, I did not then well understand the depth and nature of her spiritual sorrow. Her conflict, as was evident to all who saw her, was protracted and severe, and her deep suflerings were neither ordinary in their kind, nor evanescent in their nature. From this time forward, after hav- ing come out of great tribulation, she advanced in knowledge, in wisdom, and in grace ; and by the sacred discipline of an all- wise and over-ruling Providence, she daily became more and more fit for the high and honourable work for which he had destined her, for the glory of His own name, and for the good of His chosen." Thus the Lord was with her in the furnace of aflfliction. A sense of the blessings which she derived from it, led her always to refer to it with gratitude. We thus see, that, " though no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous but grievous, it afterwards yields the peaceable fruits of righteous- ness in them that are exercised thereby." One of the efiects of suffering on the mind of Margaret Bayne, as far as others were concerned, we may here notice. She was remarkable, as we have seen, for the constitutional delicacy and strength of her affection; but the experience of afflictions greatly improved it. She was particularly felicitous as a comforter. She possessed the tongue of the learned, and could speak a word in season to them that are weary. She could adopt the language of the great Apostle of the Gentiles, " Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, .the Father of mercies, and the 40 MEMOIR OF God of all comfort; who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God." Her ministrations to her sisters^ in particular, were greatly needed by them, and greatly blessed. And though for a season, under the pressure of their calamity, some of them said, " why is light given to him that is in misery; and why is life given to the bitter in soul," they were all like herself brought to acknowledge and feel that " in very faithfulness they were afflicted." The following letter, addressed to an acquaintance, who had suffered a painful bereavement, may be introduced in connection with what has now been said. « Glasgow, Blst March 1822. " It is with feelings of affection, of sorrow, and of unfeigned sympathy, that I now write to you, my dearest Jane. Since I came here, there has not been an hour, and scarcely a moment, in which you have been entirely excluded from my thoughts. I often bring to my recollection our last meeting. I see you with varied indications of sorrow, and with the expressions of that perplexity which fills the mind with agitation, and, when not stopped in its progress, overwhelms it with despair. The sepa- ration which death makes between us and the object of our af- fection, must give rise to painful feelings in every circumstance of life, and amid every variety of fortune. It is a change from the glow and animation of hope, from the eagerness of desire, from the agitations and passions which ply around the heart, con- tinually modifying its feelings, and diversifying the successive moments and hours of our existence, to the silence of death, and to the stillness of unconsciousness. But it is when death is con- missioned to enter within the precincts of our own dwelling, that we especially feel his appalling terrors, and that we shrink with dismay from the contemplation of his irresistible and awful grasp. Then, indeed, there is a dissolution of hopes, a suspension of en- joyment, a feeling of intense agony, a solitude and desolation which make us feel that we are in his territory ! We look around for those who were the associates of our maturer years, who wit- nessed all the changes of external condition, and even of internal feeling, to which, during the course of our changeful life, we have MRS WILSON. 41 been so often subjected, to whom our hearts clung with a devoted and ardent aiFection, and who were connected with our fears of suffering, as well as with our hopes of enjoyment, — we look around, and would ask, where are they? But there is a voice within us which puts an end to the inquiry. It tells us they have gone to the ' land of silence,' and to that place where all is buried in deep forgetfulness. Oh ! we then think, is it indeed possible that those who were so dear to us are no longer inhabi- tants of that world in which we reside ; that the hours of happi- ness which were enjoyed with them are now gone for ever; that the voice of parental tenderness can no longer soothe our hearts while we journey onward in a path that is beset with difficulty; that the voice of parental reproof, which was despised, or not listened to, is now hushed by death? " Amid such complicated emotions and feelings, it is difficult to suggest topics of consolation, and still more difficult is it to fix the mind exclusively on those which may be suggested, but we ought ever to remember that affliction cannot be considered aright, if viewed only in its present results, or in its immediate aspects. It is intended to convey many important lessons to the mind ; it brings human life in its unexpected transitions, in its unsubstantial enjoyments, in the vicissitude of its sorrows, and in its precarious and transitory joys, strikingly into view. But it tends also to elevate our minds to the contemplation of objects that are pure in their origin and source, which cannot from their nature be liable to any vicissitude, which can be subject to no measurement, which can know no end. In affliction there are many considerations which cannot fail to excite in our minds the most painful and agonizing emotions ; but it is intended also that it should call into action those high and holier principles which can control them ; and it is not unfrequently the medium of communicating new delight, by compelling us to look above this world, where all is revolution and must terminate in death, and by enabling us to anticipate the time when we shall be put in the full possession of enjoyments which are beyond the influ- ence of its uncertainties. We have, indeed, experienced the beneficial effects of affliction, if it has brought us to the source and fountain of all true happiness ; if it has given to future and 42 MEMOIR OF invisible objects the predominating influence which, from their importance and magnitude, they ought to obtain over those that are visible; or if it has the effect of animating us in our Christian course, whether this be brightened by sunshine or darkened by the storm. Do not then, my dear friend, permit your thoughts to dwell so intensely on those painful and agonizing reflections which afilictions, so complicated as yours, must necessarily give rise to. Try to obtain those important lessons of instruction which it is intended to convey ; and the exertion necessary to the attainment will lessen the tide of sorrow, or turn it into a new course. I would say something to comfort you, my dearest friend, but I know the overwhelming power of sorrow, the force which it exerts over the mind, and its influence in shutting all the avenues of the heart at the very time when it stands in need of consolation. I cannot expect that you will at once rise above the oppression and weight of sorrow, but I sincerely hope you will make those exertions which are necessary to obtain dominion over it, and I desire to believe that you will be brought more fully to adore the mysteries of that wisdom and goodness which can brighten, by their consolations, the darkest hours of adver- sity, and can even change sorrow into joy." Greenock continued to be the residence of the family for five years after the death of its venerated parent. During that time, Margaret, in conjunction with one of her sisters, taught a Sab- bath school, and displayed much Christian faithfulness to those who were placed under her care. Her rule was that of love and gentleness, tempered by firmness. Her instructions were admir- ably adapted to the capacities of those to whom they were ad- dressed. As a visitor, in connection with a Female Benevolent Society, in which she took a great interest, she devoted much of her time and strength to the relief of suffering humanity. " She delighted," says a friend who knew her self-denial and exertions, " to visit, to instruct, to comfort, and to pray with the poor, and the afflicted, and the dying. She ministered, in every practicable way, to the temporal and spiritual necessities of all who came within her reach. I doubt not that many now before the throne, will eternally bless God that he put it into her heart to visit MRS WILSON. 43 them." Of the institutions for the spread of the Gospel in heathen lands, she was the warm friend and supporter; and in the con- version of the Jews, she manifested a particular interest. Her compassion for the souls of men perishing for lack of knowledge, and her endeavours to point out to them the way of salvation, seemed most exemplary. Subsequently, however, when she re- ferred to the time of which we now write, she was conscious that her exertions had borne no just proportion, on the one hand, to the opportunities of usefulness which presented themselves to her, and, on the other, to her own obligations to Divine grace. I am persuaded that many pious females, in the enjoyment of leisure, who view themselves with considerable satisfaction when they consider their endeavours to promote the glory of God by active services, would have the feelings which she experienced, if they looked more to those women mentioned with commenda- tion and aiFection by the Apostle Paul in the conclusion of the Epistle to the Romans, than to the examples which are afforded in their immediate neighbourhood. Nothing worthy of particular notice, except a gradual im- provement in her Christian character, took place during that part of the time of her residence in Greenock, to which we have now alluded. Her correspondence with her friends appears, from their communications, to have been pretty extensive, and to have been highly valued for the kindness and sympathy which it ex- pressed, and the information and instruction which it conveyed. Only a few of her letters are before me. The following extracts refer principally to the estimate which she continued to form of the enjoyments of the world, as liable to be interrupted by the ravages of death, and as compared with those of a heavenly origin which eternity will reveal. " My Dear Sisters, Greenock, 1th December 1822. " Though I parted with you at the quay, my thoughts did not leave you there, but accompanied you to Glasgow, and mingled in the feelings which the sight of new objects would suggest. . . . Mary and I went to make calls, and returned home without either amusement or benefit. In the evening we went to Mrs — 's, and had a most splendid entertainment. U MEMOIR OF " I was happy in getting beside J. K. We had a variety of topics for discussion ; but the one which chiefly interested us, was the Memoir of Alex. Leith Ross.* This was a subject quite suited to the state of my feelings, and not the less so, that it formed a powerful and striking contrast to the gaiety of the scene. The richness and variety of his attainments, his ardour in the pursuit of knowledge, and the extended fame which rose to his imagination and awakened joyful anticipations in the minds of his friends, disappeared at the touch of death, and are now buried with him in the tomb. What important reflections ought this to suggest ! It is not only a lesson, but a striking and most powerful representation, of the vanity of ambition, of the preca- riousness of life. Had he possessed no other sources of enjoyment, the darkness which closed around him would have been indeed terrible, and death might have come to him with tidings of dis- may; but it was far otherwise. When these sources failed him, and the enjoyments of earth had disappeared successively from his view, the principles of the Gospel were confirmed, its pro- mises were realized, its hopes had become sure. They grew in suiFering, they were strengthened by adversity, they became brighter as the period of enjoyment drew near, and, rising above this world, they soared higher and higher, till they attained their accomplishment, and their home in the Paradise which is above. .... May we live the life of the righteous, that our last end may be like his.— Yours, &c. M. B." " To Miss L. R. Greenock, January 1825. "How often do my thoughts, fatigued among other objects, turn to you, my dearest Louisa, That I should enjoy so little inter- course with one whose friendship is now rendered dear to me by the many recollections which it recalls, is to me a source of deep regret. Anna and I have been contrasting the gloom and wintry desolation of the scene around us with the glow and splendour of summer. This has forcibly recalled to our minds the time we • The only son of the late Rev. Dr Ross of Aberdeen, whose talents, attainments, and graces, afforded the richest promise; but who was re- moved from this world in the preceding April, at the very time that they were about to become available for the service of the Church. MRS WILSON. 45 spent with you at P., and brought back those hours, when we watched together the illuminations of sunset, and then saw them fade into gloom. . . . You may think of my feelings, when I ac- cidentally heard of Mr 's death. . . . Such visitations of Pro- vidence bring with them a solemn warning to us. There is something unspeakably affecting in beholding youth, fortune, all that enters into our ideas of happiness, yea, even of life itself, levelled by death. At such exemplifications of the precarious- ness of life, we pause to reflect upon our own uncertain existence ; a feeling of insecurity takes possession of the soul ; and the mind, in its silence, holds converse with death, and the realities of an unseen world. Now, those representations of Scripture, which compare life to a dream, the splendid imagery of which deludes us into a belief of its reality, — to a tale, the successive incidents of which awaken our hopes, fears, and trembling anxieties, but as soon as it is told, is forgotten and leaves no trace behind,- — to a flower of the field, which springeth up in the morning, but whose beauty is so fading, that in the evening it withereth and dieth, — acquire in us a reality, not of poetry, but of truth. It is not the imagery that in these beautiful descriptions is intended to charm us, but it is the truth which they shadow forth that should find its way to our belief But, though we do grant it a true and permanent place in our thoughts, how vague is the im- pression which it exercises over the mind ; how little the prac- tical influence which it assumes over the occurrences and every- day actions of our lives ! The restless desires of our hearts go abroad in search of happiness ; the same successions of feelings fill up those chambers of imagery, which darkness and the grave had enstamped with their character of nothingness ; new hopes bring new promises ; new motives animate to exertion ; and the soul, which was deserted, as if some raging whirlwind had swept from it all the thoughts which constitute its enjoyment, becomes as eager in the pursuit of happiness, as if it were placed within its grasp. It would be well, then, if this truth were realized, not for the purpose of afflicting us with unnecessary sorrow, but for the nobler purpose of leading our thoughts away from that dream, whether it be of joy or of sorrow, and of fixing our views 46 MEMOIR OF on heaven, and its unseen brightness, and its yet to be discovered manifestations of bliss. . . . Yours, &c. M. B." The following lines have no date; but, as they are in some degree in unison with the preceding extracts, we here give them a place. A paeent's form contemplated. " A gleam of parting sunshine Brightens the summits of the distant hills. . The dark blue waters of the mighty deep Sleep tranquilly, as if an angel's voice Had whisper'd peace, and hushed them to repose. No motion stirs the air, or earth, or heaven. And from the farthest peak of Arroquhar With towering heights, the glorious moon has risen, And, in her bright and gorgeous canopy Of clouds, doth travel through the azure sky. How beautiful those blendmg tints of even ! The face of nature wears a twilight hue, And all is shadow'd in a calm so deep. That, while we gaze, and gaze, the pulse of thought Throbs with a higher joy, and we do feel The ethereal touch which earthly things can give To that immortal mind, whose hopes and vast Desires were form'd for immortality. At such an hour, I can recall the past, And, through the vista of long vanish'd years, Surrey the undying forms which mem'ry, Within her prison-house, doth keep enthrall'd, Till forth she leads her train, not sickly, pale. And ghastly, Uke the things of death, but bright With life, and wooing us to speak to them. ** One I do view apart from all the rest : It is a Parent's form, beloved in life; But dearer still in death. Upon his brow Sit contemplation and intensest thought. His eye, though dimm'd and moisten'd by the touch Of grief, has yet a heavenly smile, like light Upon a beauteous crystal fount. In heart, And feeling, in intellectual strength, MRS WILSON. 47 And reason high, he stood alone; and from The hidden depths of his expansive mind. He brought forth treasures to the aid of truth. Clad in the armour of celestial strength. He fear'd not mortal foe, but, with a voice Of thunder, told the tlireaten'd wrath of God; That wrath exceeding all that mortal man Can image to himself of woe and dread. Of mercy oft he spoke, mercy in league With truth, and bought by blood, the blood of Him Who died on Calvary that we might live. With pity's eye, he viewed the busy strife Of earth ! and, oh ! he knew it to be vain. A heavenly vision broke upon his soul, And show'd the splendours of that glorious world Where he did long to dwell. From Zion's heights He view'd the city of the living God : Its wondrous sights, its too transporting sounds Did fill his soul with ecstacy subUme; He long'd to pass its gates and enter in. Death came, and, ere disease could mar the powers Of his great intellect, it set him free. 'Twas morning's early hour; a ray of Ught Fell on the features of liis beauteous face; Upwards he turn'd his eyes, and, with a smile Of holy joy, he welcomed the splendourfB Of immortal day, the peace of heaven. O ! who can tell the transport of that hour, When, borne on sei-aph's wings, he saw the sights. And heard the songs, of heaven's sacred courts ? " And other forms do rise from out the tomb. The old, the young, the beautiful, the fair. O death, I feel thy presence, and am sad ! Thou art the foe of life, and thou dost cast Thy shadow over all that our fond hearts Have lov'd; but thy domain shall quickly end. And sin, thy parent curst, shall also die." Several reasons, which it is unneeessary here to mention, in- duced the family to remove their household from Greenock to Dares Cottage, in Inverness-shire. It was not without hesita- tion that they determined to leave the place of their nativity, 48 MEMOIR OF which had become endeared by a thousand hallowed providences, friendships, and associations ; and they were not long absent from it, when, — notwithstanding the kindness of their relatives and other friends in whose neighbourhood they lived, — the limitation of their comfort and their usefulness led them to regret the movement which they had made. The following letters were written by Margaret during her residence in the north of Scotland. They are distinguished by liveliness, tenderness, and piety of feeling, and will be read with interest. The first is addressed to one of her sisters, who re- mained in Greenock for some time after the other members of the family had left it, and gives an account of the passage in a steamer by the Western Isles, and the Caledonian Canal, to the neighbourhood of Inverness. « Dares Cottage, dOth May 1826. " After the perils of a most adventurous journey, we have ar- rived in safety at our wished-for destination. A coldness seems to creep over my frame, when I think of the distance which se- parates us from you and the friends so dearly beloved by us. Is it indeed possible, that those whose presence lent enchantment to the passing hours, with whom we took sweet converse, and whose example was to us the noblest stimulus to exertion, are no longer to be our companions, or to brighten our path? We feel, indeed, like strangers in a strange land ; but let us remem- ber that this is a true emblem of our state upon earth. We are pilgrims and strangers, as were all our fathers; but we look for another country, even an heavenly. Earth, in its purest joys, is but a shadow of heaven,'and the dawn of our real existence is in the world beyond the grave. Every thing that we love here, if it has not a nobler aim than the gratification of our earthly de- sires, is but a refined materialism. " You heard of our embarkation at Greenock ; it was rather an awkward one. . . . When we were safely on board the steam- boat, we had time to recall those varied emotions which had passed through our minds on that eventful morning, before leaving home, and when walking along those solitary streets where so many objects of past and present interest presented themselves. It was MRS WILSON. 49 agony to be torn from them. We watched the town in the re- ceding distance, till its last spire had faded from our view. The shadow which time casts upon objects, seemed at this moment to be drawn aside, for things lost to memory rose before us, bright and vivid as in our hours of early happiness ; and these, disap- pearing as a dream, gave place to others which shall be remem- bered while memory has its place in the soul. At this moment, we shed tears of sorrow ; but the blessed hopes of the Gospel, the assurance that those whom we loved upon earth have only laid down what is corruptible, to gain an incorruptible crown, dis- pelled, in some measure, the gloom which surrounded us, and inspired us with the hope of again beholding them in other and brighter ' spheres of existence.' Here their joys were clouded. They beheld God, indeed, but it was by occasional glimpses, and through that obscuring medium which darkened their pro- spects. Now, they behold him face to face ; they gaze upon his brightness ; they are absorbed in the contemplation of his love. " Our fellow-passengers on board the steam-boat were not all of one description ; and we might have had ample opportunity for studying character, had we been disposed to mingle with the crowd, or had our curiosity been as eager to know who they were, as theirs was to ascertain our names and the place of our desti- nation. We kept close together, each in her turn making a feeble endeavour to amuse the rest, which was again succeeded by a fit of greater despondence, till the bell rung for breakfast. It was a dull one, as we were compelled to join a group eager in the pursuit of amusement, and whose happy countenances expressed no sympathy which could at all respond to ours. We entered into conversation with , and were quite charmed with his generosity, nobleness of spirit, and the variety of information which a residence in foreign countries, and an extensive observa- tion of his own, had given him. With his wife and daughter we were also charmed. They were enthusiastic in science, being both botanists and mineralogists, had travelled a good deal on the Continent, and are rapt admirers of nature's works. They were much interested in dear Eliza We got to Crenan the first night, and were fortunate in procuring beds as soon as we had 50 MEMOIR OF arrived. T had hoped, before leaving Greenock, that we should have called at Rothesay, and was prepared for an interview with our dearest B., when the unwelcome call, ^ Don't stop at Rothe- say,' reached my ear. . . . How many of our earthly hopes are thus blighted ! Let us not trust in them, as the basis is insecure j but let us seek after those hopes which are both pure and unfading, which shall terminate in a glorious result, and which the sorrows of the world cannot deprive of their celestial character. The scenery from Rothesay to Crenan is beautiful beyond description. It was seen in that mild light which tempers the expressions of enthusiasm, while it augments our feelings of delight. It was the repose of nature; no sound broke upon her stillness; nothing seemed to disturb her solitudes. We felt as if in some land of enchantment, and in passing through the Straits of Bute, the prospect was so magnificent, that one of the English ladies, who had travelled several times through Switzerland, declared that she had never seen any thing equal to it. We came to Crenan be- fore sunset; and from a hill immediately behind the inn, I beheld the orb of day rest in indescribable majesty. Craignish, with the beautiful castle of D., rising almost perpendicularly from the wa- ters, lay opposite to us. Every rock was shadowed in the waters. The lower part of the wood was in shade, while some gleams of parting light yet lingered upon the upper branches. To the left, we beheld a beautiful succession of lower lands, while the tower- ing peaks of the Arran mountains yet appeared in the distance. To the right lay Jura and Scarba, and stretching along in distant perspective were seen Mull and the dark mountains of Morven. Loch Craignish, with its islands, is beautiful. The sun set be- tween Jura and Mull. It seemed to make for itself a pathway in the waters, so bright that you might have fancied it a spirit's path. We. stood entranced, almost doubting if it were reality, and asking ourselves if a scene so fair was yet presented to us in that earth which for our sakes was cursed. ... It has still some traces of its original beauty. I detached myself from the party, and sat on * a solitary rock,' till the hues of sunset had long faded away, and given place to a long twilight. Every thing now spoke of a past day. All was in unison with my feelings, for my thoughts were of the past, and life seemed at this moment to have no fu- MRS WILSON. 51 turity. Alas ! that we should ever feel thus. Our existence here is as nothing; it begins only when this life, with its vanities, has passed away. " I have filled my paper, without giving you an account of the ' latter part of our journey, which was by far the most eventful. Between Crenan and Fort-William, we encountered a consider- able gale of wind. On arriving at this place of mountains, the rain, as usual, began to descend in torrents. We thought it bet- ter to go on to the usual landing-place, as there is a tolerable inn there, with some sort of vehicle for the conveyance of passengers. .... We were kindly received here, and found the house better than we had expected. I shall tell you more of our journey afterwards. — Yours, &c. M. B." « To A. K., Esq. Dares Cottage, 22c? June 1826. " Could I put on record the thought and anxieties which we have about you since coming into this place of exile, they would fill more volumes than have issued from the press for the last fifteen years, — a portentous number, you will allow, and boding evil rather than good to our national literature. I do not, how- ever, mean to give them a place in writing ; but shall allow them to go silently down the tide of oblivion, till the hand of some skilful antiquary shall arrest the current, and transcribe them for your use " Since coming here, we have suffered all the horrors of a most rigorous captivity; — our thoughts are daily turned towards home, for such I shall ever consider Greenock, and that dear mansion where you and my beloved sisters are. We could not, indeed, have known the ardour of our affection for you, nor how strong those ties are which bind us together, had we not been doomed to a separation, and made to feel that months, or perhaps years, may roll over our heads ere it may be our lot to meet again. As you may suppose, no inconsiderable part of our enjoyment de- pends on the arrival of tidings from Greenock. . . . Hitherto they have been few, so you may judge of our ecstacy when your packet, so undeserved on our part, was handed in to us. . . . But I must ' cease my funning,' and write like a rational being. ... In truth, we live in a far different world from that of romance, but, though 52 MEMOIR OF different, the spell is still over our eyes; and if subjected to a rigid scrutiny, or brought within that temple of truth, whose pro- portions are so magnificent, and whose dimensions cannot be measured by mortal hands, our estimate of things might be proved no less wide of reality, and the result, as it affects our best in- terests, still more fatal. There are seasons, however, when this veil must be taken away. Such are those periods of agonizing sorrow, of bitter remorse, of approaching dissolution, which all must, in some shape or other, have experienced. We need not accumulate examples, for if we recur to our own history, the re- collection of those oft-forgotten hours, when the world seemed to recede from our view, when its honours were forgotten, when its joys faded as a dream of the night, will arise to remind us of what was, of what must be again repeated. But do these remem- brances affect us? In the season of stillness, it may be, they come back upon us, like voices from the tomb, telling us to sur- vey the ruin, or to look into the graves where sleep the loved, the lost companion with whom we once took fellowship. Like an invisible hand, they beckon us to turn aside, that we may behold the things which are yet to come, that we may commune with the beings of another world. But inclination forbids the re- nouncement of an immediate enjoyment; habit opposes it; and fear, guarding the avenues of the soul, keeps watch as a sentinel, lest an armed man should enter to overturn its fortresses, or dis- turb its chambers of imagery. Thus secure, the soul cannot be acted upon by its own strength ; the energy, if competent to de- throne its old affections and reinstate new ones, must be divine ; the light which dispels its darkness, or draws aside that veil which conceals from it the glories of truth, must be light from heaven. It is not enough that this veil should have been once taken away, if we are again to see objects through its obscuring medium. The darkness will become more palpable, because of the true light which once shone around us, and our vision will be less fitted to behold the real proportion of things, having wilfully shut our eyes upon them. If affliction, or tribulation, or anguish, be ne- cessary to keep our feet from falling, or our hearts alive to the truths of the Gospel, let us welcome it as our greatest good. My dearest friend has already known, in the intimacy of his own ex- MRS WILSON. 53 perience, what blessings the Lord can impart, even in this world, to the soul that loveth him. By admitting you, through his Holy Spirit, into intimate communion and fellowship with him, your chamber has become a Bethel. Your hours of torturing pain, or of worldly sorrow, have been transformed into seasons of joy; and an existence, which might have been deemed dark and troublous, had no light from the heavenly glory shone upon it, has been consecrated to God here, and will have his image more fully enstamped on it hereafter. This is the Lord's doing ; his tabernacle is with men, and he dwells among them. The triumphs of the Cross are going forward ; but though earth, be the scene of their manifestation, it cannot be of their completion. — ' Yet a little while, and he that shall come will come, and will not tarry.' Our present condition shall not continue. The citadel which we inhabit has become a ruin, but before its last prop fall, it shall be burnt up, while we, according to God's promise, look for a new heaven and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness. Glo- rious things are spoken of Zion, the city of the living God. It is his unseen dwelling-place, the glorious residence of angels, a temple where joy for ever reigns. Let our thoughts, then, scorn- ing their present ignoble destiny, aspire to a name and a place in this hidden temple. If we build our hopes beneath it, we as- suredly build too low j but, while others are ambitious of earthly honours, be ours the nobler aim of serving God here, and of en- joying his beatific presence in heaven. I trust you are at present experiencing the supporting influence of faith. From behind the clouds which encircle you, a light has already shone. It is the prelude of a brighter morning, — the dawn of a day which shall have no cloud or shadow to darken it. Till this eternal day open upon you, I pray God to keep you, and to sanctify you by his grace. . . . — Yours, &c. M. B." " To ONE OF HER SiSTERS. Alness, I2th August 1826. " Your letter was truly gratifying to me, and I should have replied to it before leaving Dares, had I not set off for Alness the very day after receiving it. You seem to have been breath- ing the air of inspiration, if we may judge from your description of P. It has been the theme of much discussion, and of eulogy, 54 MEMOIR OF nearly as splendid as your own. Your organs of ideality and inventiveness, instead of suffering a depression, must have been unusually large while penning it. You know not how welcome your letters are, nor how joyfully they are hailed by us in our solitude. Besides being a record of your own transactions, they are like a journal of all that is going on in Greenock, and, as such, possess a double charm to us. A painful uncertainty about those we love is one of the many trials that we are doomed to experience in this world. It is one of the ills of separation, al- though, like every other event, it is intended to awaken our minds anew to confidence in the procedure of Grod. Though it gives occasion to the exercise of faith, and is in its nature de- signed to withdraw our minds from the objects which have but a limited and temporary existence, and to substitute in their place those which are eternal, we make it a source of bitterness, and turn it into a reason for repining and discontent. This un- certainty haunted my mind, and had turned all my thoughts into something of its own vague and gloomy texture, when your packet reached me. . . . Beloved Miss B.'s was a rich banquet to us. If she has not the pen of a ready writer, she has at least that of a most eloquent one. We were melted in tears while we perused her expressions of regard and tender interest, coming, as they assuredly did, direct from the heart. . . .The reflections contained in her letter, were strikingly adapted to the state of our feelings at the time. We were depressed at the thought of our many privations, and, finding so few objects of kindred in- terest to awaken our affections, or to call out our sympathies, we were ready to contrast our situation here and at Greenock, not so much with the view of making it a subject of humility, and of deriving from it lessons of improvement, as of making it an apology for the lethargy which is apt to steal over our minds when we feel that we have no direct or immediate stimulus to rouse us. . . . " You heard of our being in Inverness at the sacrament. I came here on the Wednesday of that week, and intend to remain a few weeks longer. I greatly prefer Boss-shire to any part of 'the North that I have as yet seen. The country is beautiful; and, whether the feeling owes its existence to a greater resem- MRS WILSON. 55 blance in the scenery to that of home, or to the belief that it was the birth-place of a beloved parent, and that here his infant foot- steps have trod, I know not ; but I cannot help feeling as if I breathed in an atmosphere not altogether new to me, while every other place has the aspect of a strange and unknown land. I do not think I can ever like the North. All my affections hover around beloved Greenock. It is the pole-star to which my thoughts daily and hourly turn; but there are some remem- brances that hallow this place, and I would try to gather them around me when that coldness creeps over my spirit, which seems to forbid the very entrance of happiness. . . . " I have been at two sacraments since coming here. They have been to me like green spots amid the desert ; and such spots, though surrounded by a sterile and dreary waste, shall be had in remembrance when the sunshine of other landscapes has long faded from the mind. It is common for artists to take the portraits of distinguished persons amid circumstances best fitted to represent the individual — of a warrior in the foremost ranks of his army ; of a pilgrim reposing upon his staff; of a painter, or a poet, with his eye fixed on some glowing landscape, while his pen, or his pencil, is in readiness to embody the inspiration of his soul. If we would then describe an individual tired of the pursuits of this world — if we would take the portrait of one longing for happiness which this world cannot afford, where can he be represented on earth as so likely to obtain the rest which his soul pants after, as in the sanctuary, drinking with joy out of the wells of salvation, and finding an earnest of the bliss that is above. I went alone to Resolis the day after coming here, which happened to be the fast day. After crossing the ferry, with about sixty Highlanders carrying their Bibles in their hands, and alternately reading or conversing on religious subjects in the Gaelic language, I had about two miles to walk up hill, and along a tract of barren heath. There was scarcely a trace of any human habitation; and, to complete the gloom, a heavy rain came on. The church stands alone, amid this barren waste which surrounds it — a fit and significant emblem of its existence on earth. At a little distance an immense crowd had assembled at the tent. They were singing the Covenanter's tune, while 56 MEMOIR OF here and there a few stragglers were coming slowly along the descent, carrying in their hands a Bible and stool, or piece of wood for a seat. They were, for the most part, old men, with their grey hairs streaming from under the blue bonnet which par- tially covered their heads, or women, bent by years and infirmi- ties, looking more like a link to connect us with death, than any part of the chain of the living. I felt wet, and was almost dis- posed to retrace my steps homeward, till this scene roused me. When I saw the old and the feeble seated on the wet heath, with the rain-drops falling upon them, and nothing for shelter but a few trees almost bereft of their foliage, I was shamed out of my fears about suffering any paltry inconvenience, and ad- vanced towards the church. When I entered, the clergyman had a large cloak wrapped about him, and so pale and emaciated was he, that it was not till he gave out the psalm, that I disco- vered that it was Mr S. He had been recovering from an ill- ness, and was obliged to observe the precaution of keeping on his cloak. I was delighted with the variety, the depth, and the holiness of the feelings which were breathed in his sermon ; but more of this again. We are going on an excursion, and I am unexpectedly called away. Adieu. . . . — Yours, &c. M. B." « To Miss S— . Manse of Alness, 16^^ Aug. 1826. " My dearest Jane, — It is impossible to express the anguish of my feelings, on receiving, a few hours ago, intelligence of your brother's death. To me, the shock was inexpressibly painful; but to you, my beloved friend, it must be an event so overwhelm- ing, that I know not how to address you, or in what words to express my sympathy. I do, indeed, most deeply feel for you under a bereavement which had circumstances so dreadful to embitter it ; and, while I partake of your sorrow, I would im- plore God to sustain you by his omnipotent arm, and to impart the consolation which will dispel the gloom of your soul, and cause hope to spring up amid the ills that threaten its extinction. Never did I feel the pangs of a separation from you so bitterly as I do at this moment. Willingly would I mingle my tears with yours ; but when I think of you in all the anguish of sor- row, and of myself in a far distant abode, uncertainty grows MRS WILSON. 57 darker, and sorrow, joined to all the tortures of suspense, brings a thousand forebodings to my soul. Often have I wished to see you, to enjoy one brief interview with you, clouded as that inter- view might be; but Providence has severed us, and instead of lamenting the destiny that we cannot control, let me submit to it, and look upwards to heaven, praying earnestly that God may sustain you, and make your earthly sorrows, which have been many, the means of detaching your mind from sublunary plea- sures, and fixing it with earnest desire on the promises of the Gospel, and on the hope of that inheritance which is incorrupti- ble, undefiled, and which fadeth not away. The dispensations of God's providence are ofttimes dark and mysterious. For purposes unknown to us, he hides himself amid clouds. His throne seems seated in an abyss of darkness ; and when he looks down from its terrible majesty, it may seem in anger to us, who see only the awful symbols of his displeasure, and perceive not the hidden purposes of his glorious grace. But we must bear in remembrance, that he, who guides unseen the events of this world, is not only a Being of infinite power, but of long-sufier- ing patience, and of most astonishing love. He bears with our infirmities, and the inflictions of his providence are but the chas- tenings of a father, who pities, while he loves, his weak but erring child. Our merciful Creator afilicts not willingly; and to be without chastisement is not the privilege of a child, but the curse of an alien who has lost the titles to his rightful inherit- ance, and has neither the name nor the character that would entitle him to a place in his father's house. It is not, therefore, to overturn the foundations of our happiness, to wither the pros- pects of our enjoyments, or to blight those hopes to which the mind, from its original constitution, must ever aspire after, that God sends us affliction. It is to withdraw us from the polluted springs which cannot impart a pure or immortal enjoyment, to fix our happiness on a stable foundation, and, by alluring us from a phantom, to substitute in its stead a reality which we may eagerly pursue. " God has promised to sustain us amid affliction ; and it is a privilege unspeakable, my dearest Jane, to repose upon his pro- mise, to rely on his proffered might. We should submit with 58 MEMOIR OF patience to the discipline of his providence. He knows the end from the beginning; and we cannot arraign his providence, without calling in question his designs, and impiously substitut- ing our own wills for the supreme will of Heaven. Look not, therefore, on the dark side of the picture, for, though clouds and darkness may now be around you, there is an eternity for the Almighty to reveal the purposes of his hidden wisdom. It is not for us to speculate on the supposed happiness or misery of a human being after he has terminated his earthly careeer. . . . God's power is omnipotent. Before the moment of death, he can work such a transformation on the soul as will change it from corrup- tion into his own glorious likeness. The present only is ours. Let us seek to improve it by preparing for heaven ; and, if afflic- tions the darkest, the most appalling to the heart, should be as- signed us, let us remember that this is but our prison-house, and that ere long the gates shall be set open, and the prisoners let free. You, my beloved and afflicted friend, have witnessed scenes of the bitterest anguish. You have yourself drunk deep of the cup of sorrow; but, though bitter were its ingredients, it was mingled for you by One who knows your frame, who remem- bers that you are dust, and who, though now ascended on high, retains a feeling of our infirmities, and, remembering his own tears, and groans, and dying agonies, regards you from on high with tender solicitude. Oh, then, my beloved Jane, mourn not as if you were unpitied, disregarded, or overlooked by your Al- mighty Saviour. He is leader of the bright armies of heaven ; but he regards us, and when we are bent down with earthly sor- row, he lends an ear to our feeble cries. To his care I would commit you, my early, my dearest friend. I tremble lest your mind should become a prey to overmuch sorrow. Stem, there- fore, the tide, in case it should rise into a torrent, and overflow the boundaries which reason has placed to our sorrow. A terrible uncertainty rests upon all things human. * The voice said, cry,' and the sentence which it proclaimed was, ' all flesh is grass, and the glory thereof as the flower of the grass.' From the truth of this, as a general proposition, we withhold not our as- sent; but when it is brought home to us by some striking ex- emplification, when objects beloved by us are snatched away by MRS WILSON. 59 untimely fate, and our hopes withered like the flower when the blighting winds have passed over it, our souls feel as if deso- late. They stand alone, and seem to us to resemble the ruined earth, when, after some dreadful shocks, its fragments lie scat- tered around us. This is our night of darkness ; but oh, let us remember that the day-spring from on high will yet visit us, and that a morning is coming which will be without a cloud — Yours, &c. M. B." " To Miss S.— Dares Cottage, 26tk Nov. 1826. . . . . " Your removal from Greenock, though painful, would, I trust, have the effect of banishing from your mind those more agonized feelings, which a place so full of recollections could not fail to awaken. At first, even new objects, or events, may aggravate, instead of lessening our sorrow. The mind is thrown abroad upon a solitude which it peoples with its own dark shades and portentous colouring ; contrast aids its musings, and pre- vents its selecting from the thousand objects that surround it, any one that might engage its energies, or on which it might concentrate its desires ; but it is a law of our nature, and fitly adapted by its author to the constitution of our minds, that our feelings cannot always remain dissevered from every object natur- ally calculated to excite them ; and, the farther removed these objects may be from those to which our remembrance clings, and to which our thoughts turn as the birth-place of their sorrow, the greater is the likelihood that the mind will regain its vigour, and return, though with diminished ardour, to its former pursuits. That you will have hours of dark and solitary remembrance, when hope seems almost annihilated, and when every motive to human exertion will appear but the suggestions of some evil spirit, doomed on torturing you by his unwonted interference, is what you must look forward to as a part of that destiny which Heaven has awarded to our rebellious race. " We are apt to think of sorrows as exclusively our own j and, in one sense, they are so, as it is when disappointment or death, like a fell destroyer, meets us on our path, and arrests that career of enjoyment which it was ours to pursue, that we can realize the general facts which declare suffering to be our common ine- 60 MEMOIR OF vitable lot. But, while we feel our sorrows, and are called upon to witness the havoc and fatal inroads which death is making on a territory which had not been conceded to him but by reason of sin, we should also bear in mind, that the Supreme Ruler of this world is exerting his unseen agency, and that, amid a scene, whose out- ward events have in it so much that is dark and appalling, he is evincing the manifestations of his wisdom, and evolving those glo- rious designs of his mercy, which it is the object of his economy to establish and perpetuate upon earth. The assurance that these designs of mercy include in them the eternal well-being of all who do not exclude themselves, by their ingratitude and rebel- lion, from the hopes which they warrant us to cherish, and that they extend beyond the term of an existence, which is at best transitory, and limited to a few passing years, ought to silence, or, at least, to suppress our murmurings; and, by showing us how little we understand of the councils of the Eternal, and how dim our vision is when stretching itself to view the objects which belong to our faith, should make us retreat into our conscious ignorance, and repose on the veracity of Him who, by his unal- terable testimony, declares that ' all things shall work together for good to them who love him.' The thought of our final des- tiny should then be uppermost in our minds. We cannot escape the winds, and rains, and darkening clouds that assail the tra- veller. The voyage we are bound upon is one of awful import- ance; but, though the clouds lower, and gathering tempests seem big, as if ready to expend upon us all their fury, we look forward to another clime, where the sun that will shine upon us shall be without clouds, and where the light mil be but the em- blem and assurance of an eternal day. " You know these truths better than I can describe them ; and if your daily prayer, and most strenuous effort, be to acquire a knowledge of their practical efficacy, you will sooner or later come to experience it. Neither love to God, nor a conformity to his will, can be attained without a growing conviction of his presence, and of the utter inefficacy of all human things to im- part even a momentary happiness. And wherever we go, and whatever springs of enjoyment may have been dried up to us, here is a fountain boundless, as it is inexhaustible. The Eternal MRS WILSON. 61 God himself offers to become our portion and sure defence : and, while the light of earthly happiness is fled, or gleams on our path, like meteors over a cold and desert waste, the beams of his favour will encircle us, growing brighter and brighter as time runs on its course. T long much to hear from you, my beloved Jane. Sincerely do I hope that your mind has been sustained under the bereavements of God's providence ; and that, whatever may have been its feelings, when nature, exhausted, was tempted to believe that its hope was departed for ever, you will now be able to exclaim, ' all things work together for my good.' " We would have thought this season one of almost unvaried dulness, had not the arrival of my sisters from Greenock broken in upon our monotony. For the last few days, we have been blocked up by the snow, and, except in the lurid gleams of light which sometimes illuminate the summits of a distant mountain, or fall in beautiful variety upon the nearer hills, the country pre- sents a scene of entire desolation. The snow is so deep on the Highland roads, and among the valleys, some of which lead to isolated cottages on the hills, that no one can attempt passing or repassing. Many of the poor creatures had left their homes on Friday last, to be present at an annual fair in Inverness, the only place of rendezvous for these poor Highlanders. The morning was not so bad ; but the snow having fallen in great quantities during the day, and the night becoming very dark, some of them lost their way, and were found dead next morning, their bodies being partially covered with snow. The details of this melan- choly evening have excited great distress in our neighbourhood j and it was truly heart-rending to see here and there a funeral procession winding its way slowly among the hills, or on the roads. . . . — Yours, &c. M. B." The author of these letters had, indeed, the " pen of a ready writer," and in the weight and worth of her communications, she excelled most of her correspondents. She does not notice in them any engagements for the direct promotion of the cause of the Saviour ; and, except as connected with the attempt to diffuse a "savour of holiness" in a small society, and the cultivation of Christian fellowship, she had, at the time at which they were written, few such to employ her. This circumstance did not D 62 MEMOIR OF arise from any diminution in her Christian zeal, but from her inability to communicate religious instruction to the interesting Gaelic population of her neighbourhood. The limitation of their usefulness in the Highlands was one of the principal reasons which induced her and her sisters to determine to remove to Edin- burgh, when arrangements could be made for their taking up their abode in that city. MRS WILSON. 63 CHAPTEK III. DEPARTURE FROM IN VKRNESS-SHIRE— VISIT TO GREENOCK— VIEWS OF THE CONNECTIO W BETWEEN FAITH AND PEACE — I-ETTERS WRITTEN FROM EDINBURGH— DEATH OF MISS ELIZA BAYNE. Margaret, with one of her sisters, left Inverness-shire for Edin- burgh in August 1827. On their way to the metropolis, they visited Greenock, from which was written the following letter, principally devoted to the notice of the cordial welcome which they received from their numerous and beloved friends. " My dearest A. Greenock, August 1827. " I wrote C. a hurried letter last week, and as you are next in succession, I shall address my present lucubrations to you. I mean to write no sentiment, no profound disquisition, not even to amuse you with the vagaries of my own fancy, as the eupho- nious expression I have made use of may seem to intimate ; but merely to give you a detail of facts, which can, I am persuaded, have no adornment equal to that which your own warm affec- tions, and the glow of your fancy, can impart to them. Well, to resume the thread of my narrative : — I told you of our arrival at Greenock on Saturday morning, going to church, &c. &c. I felt for some days as if I were living and moving in a dream, so new and strange were the sensations of pleasure with which I gazed upon every object, and received the gratulations of friends, every one of whom seemed kinder than another. The kindness we have met with is actually overpowering; and, to heighten our enjoyment, the weather has been delightful, and the scenery look- ing more majestic than ever. We have had so many inquiries for you all, that to tell you the one half of them would fill vo- lumes; and, even were I to write them, the words would but 64 MEMOIR OF feebly express the thousand feelings which were conveyed to us, by the tones of voice and looks of tenderness, which expressed or accompanied them. We were in doubt as to what church we should go to on the Sacrament Sabbath, but on talking to MissB., and on revolving the subject in our own minds, thought it would be more consistent, and might be as profitable, to attend at Mr M.'s. We accordingly went. In particular, we were delighted with Mr B. on Monday. If we think of him as an ambassador of Christ, bearing upon his message the seal of heaven, having looked into the mighty, the surpassing glories of that economy by which salvation is secured to the repentant sinner, few indeed can compare with him. There is an earnestness of expostulation, a tenderness of feeling, a holy elevation of mind, which at once prove to you that his whole soul has been embued with the prin- ciples of the Gospel ; that he has been on the mount with Jesus ; and that from the views he has there obtained of heaven and its glories, rather than from the servile fear of punishment, are de- rived much of his earnestness, and the wonder with which he dwells upon the Saviour's love. His text was, — ' My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.' His views of Christ's empire, and of the authority and rule which he exercises over his people, were enlarged and comprehensive, and had in them much of the es- sence and excellence of Scriptural truth. " On the evening of Wednesday we went, accompanied by Miss B., to the K.'s. After tea, we went to A.'s room. He was lying on the sofa. His table was drawn in, and, as usual, strewed with books. A few beautiful flowers stood in a tumbler in the middle of the table. He had his Bible, with a few choice books, under his head ; and his countenance was so exactly the same as formerly, that for some time I could not believe that so many months had passed over our heads since we had parted from him. The excitement of seeing us was perhaps too much for him, as once or twice he was almost overcome. He soon, however, re- covered himself; for, after speaking of you all, and expressing, over and over again, his gratitude for what he is pleased to call your heaven-born sympathies, he entered upon the theme that is ever uppermost in his thoughts — Christ and him crucified. I could easily perceive from his conversation, that a great change has MRS WILSON. 65 passed upon him, and that, instead of the darkness, the perplexity, the ever-recurring doubts, that were wont to harass his mind, he is lost, as it were, in an unfathomable depth, when he thinks of ' the height and the depth, the length and the breadth,' of Christ's love to sinners. He can now, indeed, adopt the trium- phant language of faith, and say, that the ' joy of the Lord' is his 'strength.' I felt impressed with his conversation. The world is nothing to him, eternity all. He seems to know what it is to enjoy God; and, knowing this, feeling its magnitude, having experienced the joy which it imparts, he looks down on all the pleasures of time. His conversation is a contrast to the worldliness of ours. Let us, my beloved sisters, seek to have the image of Christ impressed upon our souls, that we may come out from the world, and may imitate Christ in delighting to do our Father's will. . . . Yours, &c. M. B." The connection between faith and peace, illustrated in the experience of the afflicted friend, whose circumstances are here alluded to, had begun to occupy more than an ordinary share of the consideration of the writer some time previous to her visit to Greenock. Her attention, it appears from her notes, had been particularly directed to it by a passage in one of Dr Chalmers's occasional sermons, which, as transcribed by her, I here insert : — " If faith be any where, it is in the mind, which is its proper habitation, its place of occupancy ; and when we want to ascer- tain the reality of our faith, we go in quest of it through the secrecies of this dwelling-place. We look inwardly instead of outwardly. Instead of gazing abroad among the objects of re- velation, and gathering from thence the radiance that might have streamed upon the soul, we seek for the reflection of these objects within the soul itself; and while so employed, the in- verted eye shuts out all the illumination that is above it and around it. It is not by looking inwardly upon the eye's own retina, but by looking outwardly on the panorama of external nature, that we see the glories of the summer's landscape. It is not by casting a downward look upon the tablet of vision, but by casting an upward regard on the starry firmament, that the won- ders of the midnight sky become manifest to the beholder; and it is not by a scrutiny among the metaphysics of the inner man, 66 MEMOIR OF that we admit the light of heaven into the soul. The peace and joy of a believer do not spring from any traces that he finds within him. They emanate from the truths which are suspend- ed over him. He fetches his gladdening assurances, not from any light that has been struck out among the arcana of his own , spirit, but from that great fountain of light, the Sun of Righ- teousness. If you invert this order, you suspend the exercise of faith, when you are trying to make sure of it. I would possess the heart of each of you with the assurance of God's proffered good-will to you — of his free and full pardon stretched out for your acceptance. Do not contemplate the Gospel at a distance, but in its pointed and personal application as addressed to you. You are not named in the Bible, but the term * whosoever points to you this communication. It has not been handed to you, like a letter of an acquaintance, with the address to your designa- tion and dwelling-place inscribed upon it, but the term ' all' specializes the address to each." With these striking and just remarks she was quite charmed, and they ministered greatly to her comfort, by directing her to seek it by simply looking to the finished work of Christ, and the free offer of salvation contained in his Gospel ; and it was with delight that she found the consolation to which they refer, occu- pying, in no common degree, the attention of her friends. As illustrative of her own views of faith, I quote the following sentences from one of her letters, written at this time : — " Christ is our joy, as well as our righteousness. It is not an unholy confidence, it is not a presumptuous effort of mind, to appropriate blessings freely and gratuitously imparted to us. To reject them, is to renounce felicity, and to cast dishonour upon God. ... It is impossible, and it would be dangerous, to attempt ascertaining how frequently, or to what degree, faith may be sus- pended, while its triumph and final victory will be secured ; but we may affirm, in general, that a state of doubting is a state of unbelief, and that a dark and terrible uncertainty rests upon the fate of those who continue in such a state. . . . Relying upon the changeful frames of our own minds, is like staying our foot upon the shifting sands, which every successive wave may sweep away. Depending simply on Christ, is like resting on a rock, which MRS WILSON. 67 stands secure amid the tempest, and against which the waves and billows of the ocean may dash their fary in vain." The truths which are here stated are most important. The substance of some of her expositions of them, as found in her correspondence with friends who cordially admitted them, may be thus accurately stated : — It is the duty and privilege of the believer, to possess the joy and confidence which should spring from the reception of the testimony of God concerning his Son. It is greatly to be re- gretted, that this duty and privilege are lost sight of by many Christian professors, who introduce among the grounds of faith more than the message, that " God is in Christ reconciling the world to himself," the simple offer of pardon through Christ, and the invitation to receive and rest upon Christ ; and who associate the very consequences of the imperfections of faith, such as doubts, misgivings, and fears, with its direct and legitimate results. Of faith, as well as of other mental operations, we have, to a certain extent, a natural consciousness. Peace, in some degree or other, is the first effect of faith ; and it is followed by love and obedi- ence. Nothing is wanting to secure peace in the terms of the Gospel, which run in the cheering strains, " God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever be- lieveth in him should not perish but have everlasting life;" "He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life;" " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." We are in- vited to repose with confidence on the Saviour, and these our warrants are a sufficient ground of comfort. If, by the gracious working of the Spirit, we make a simple appropriation to our- selves of God's promise, we may, without a moment's delay, re- joice with "joy unspeakable and full of glory." If assurance, and full assurance of faith, be the privilege of any one believer, it is certainly the duty of all to aspire after them, and the sin of all that they are not possessed. Our struggle with, and distress on account of indwelling sin, ought to enhance the Redeemer in our estimation, and not to detract from our grounds of confidence in him, which are nothing more nor less than God's testimony concerning his character and work, and his call upon us to rely upon his free, unmerited, but suitable grace. To judge of our 68 MEMOIR OF state by our changing feelings, is most dangerous, and derogatory to the loving-kindness of God. ... An inquiry after the effects of faith, however, is right and proper — nay, absolutely, a duty incumbent upon all ; but it must be borne in mind, that while the perception of the work of Christ ivithin us, may contribute to certify us of our actual faith, our discovery must throw us back to the recognition of the work of Christ without us, on Calvary, and near the mercy-seat, as the object of our faith, the sole cause of our justification in the sight of Grod, the grand origin and sup- port of all our spiritual comfort. While it may be proper for many to say, " I do not know that I am believing in Christ, for I do not feel the peace, and the love, and the holiness, which fol- low the exercise of this saving grace;" it is nothing but a self- righteous rejection of God's testimony for any to say, " I shall not receive Christ as my justification, till I have experienced his grace in my sanctification." God himself cannot sanctify till he justify ; the branch must be united to the vine, before it can bring forth fruit, before it can imbibe a particle of spiritual nourish- ment. The act of adoption must precede the communication of the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father. When, in the hour of temptation, or rightful conviction, we may doubt the existence, even in the smallest degree, of the blessings of adop- tion, and Satan, or our own consciences say to us, " You have not believed, else whence all your fears, and failings, and offences," we should reply, " I will noiv look to the Saviour, as he presents himself in his Word; I will now believe what he says to me, take refuge in his grace, and give my fears to the winds." The strong assurance of the Saviour's love, with which the subject of this Memoir was blessed, and which was founded on the conviction that she humbly rested on the promises of the Gospel, was the source of her peculiarly cheerful and devoted obedience. " The joy of the Lord" was emphatically her " strength." The letters which follow require no introductory remarks. ** To Miss R. Edinburgh, I6th Dec. 1827. " My dearest L., — Owing to a mistake of my sisters, I did not hear of your letter to A., and consequently was ignorant of MRS WILSON. 69 its contents, till I rejoined my sisters in Edinburgh. I shall not add to your sorrow, by giving you a detail of my feelings on receiving the unlooked-for tidings which it contained. To you and to your dear mother, the shock must have been inexpressi- bly severe, as it broke a link in the chain which bound you to- gether as one family. The mind, though sustained by principle, and fortified by those motives which best prepare it for the en- durance of the varied calamities which beset our path while in this world, cannot meet such afflictions without feeling torn and agonized, as if its very powers were annihilated, and the foundations on which its earthly hopes rested swept away. We are not prohibited to mourn the loss of those who were dear to us in this world, and who were united to us by those relations which our heavenly Father has made the source of our purest earthly delight. Our sorrow is but the tribute we pay to their memory, and the expressions of this sorrow, if not carried be- yond proper limits, are the simple effusions of our nature, which cannot be entirely prevented. In the character of our Divine Saviour himself, whose love and sympathy were blended with majesty and power, ... we have an example of human tender- ness. And, oh ! it is soothing, from amid the higher demon- strations of his power, when awaking to life those who had slept in silence, or when controlling the elements, ' he said. Peace, and there was a great calm,' to turn to that sublime, but simple, exhibition of feeling at the grave of Lazarus, when ' Jesus wept.' But you, my dear L., know as well as I do, how difficult it is to set boundaries to our sorrow; and there is perhaps nothing in nature more fitted to still the murmurings, or to check those sinful repinings which in so many ways insinuate themselves into our minds, than the consideration that God is the rightful disposer of events ; and that under the darkest allotments of his providence, there exist those gracious and merciful designs which shall tend ultimately to our good. Now we see through a glass darkly. We descry but dimly the design of those events that are now taking place around us ; but, instead of depressing our minds with an uncertainty that is merely relative, they ought rather to encourage us to look forward to that time when the 70 MEMOIR OF shadows shall pass away, and when, in the light of God, we shall see light clearly. " The fitful agitations of this world will to us soon be over. We are embarked on a tempestuous ocean, where there are rocks and quicksands, and opposing currents. Every gale might drive us on them, when our bark might be foundered, were it not under the protection, and guided by the skill of Him who knows the perils of the voyage, and can guide us in safety to the haven of peace. The hope that the Gospel holds out to us, is a hope full of immortality ; but, ere we can feel its blessed- ness, or look forward to the prospects which it unfolds tons beyond death, we must feel the world a wilderness, and its allurements incapable of yielding rest. Every tie broken, which bound us to the world, every loss of friends or of worldly com- fort, should be viewed as a motive to fix our desires upon objects which cannot fail. If we lay the scene of our happiness here, we must be disappointed ; but if we lay it in the scene that is future, living by faith, and regulating our hopes by the Gospel, how great soever may be our anticipations, they will come infi- nitely short of the reality, for ' eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man' what God hath laid up for his people. I would mingle my tears with yours, my dearest L., when I think of your sudden bereavements, and when I know that the sorrows of nature must be felt ; but my earnest prayer shall be, that the stream of your affections may flow into that channel which can never be dried up; and that, while your interests in this world are lessening, your desires may be devoted to heaven, and your thoughts dwelling among its un- seen glories. . . . " I had lately one peep at Benlomond ; it was under the influ- ence of the morning sun, and the brightness of the atmosphere, with the countless dew-drops on the grass and trees which skirted its margin, made it look like some fairy scene. It had put off its cap of clouds, and would have been seen in its naked majesty, but for a veil of fleecy and light clouds, which partially revealed, and partially concealed, its beauty. I was alone, having wan- dered from A. at the silent morning hour, before the voice of MRS WILSON. 71 busy labour bad broken upon the slumbers of other mortals. I thought of you, and the scene of our former pleasures. . . . You may probably have heard of Mr S.'s illness. He was obliged to go to England last spring, on account of his health, and has not been able to return. I saw some of his letters written when he was in great suffering; they breathed much humility, with a spirit of resignation to the will of God. His mind seemed ele- vated above the things of time, and, in looking back upon the events of his chequered existence, his sorrows were turned into joy, or were viewed like the fleeting shadows which an uncloud- ed sun had dispersed. " On visiting Edinburgh, I felt, as you must have done, a kind of solemnity and mysteriousness. In coming to a new place of residence, we begin, as it were, another existence. So many in- terests centre in it, and it is looked upon as the destined scene of so many trials, that fear, as well as hope, seem to hover around it ; and, in the uncertainty of the future, our minds are per- plexed.— Ever yours. M. B." « To Miss S., G. Edinburgh, March 2, 1828. " You must marvel, my beloved Jane, at my long and seem- ingly unkind silence ; but, did you know how much you are the object of my love, and how often my thoughts wing themselves to you as to one on whom centre the dearest affections of my heart, you would see that my unkindness has been more in ap- pearance than in reality. One of the chief enjoyments I pictured to myself, in returning to Grreenock, was the meeting with you ; and I cannot express the disappointment which I felt, on our ar- riving there, when I was told that there was little likelihood of your coming home till the beginning of winter. We were happy in again finding ourselves in the midst of our numerous and very kind friends in Greenock. Perhaps our long banishment in the North tended to increase this pleasure ; at any rate, our escape from Inverness-shire was to me like a release from imprisonment ; and I felt somewhat as a traveller must do, who, having long so- journed in foreign climes, again breathes his native air, and looks upon the scenes of his youth. There was more, however, of the past than of the present in my feelings. The houses, at times, seemed to resemble monuments ; and I felt as one passing through 72 MEMOIR OF the crowded graves of a churchyard, marking their different epitaphs, but remembering little of them, save the affecting and simple words, ' He died.' I was delighted in having dear Miss M'Q. to converse with. How often we talked of you, she has in- all probability told you. . . . Since I came to Edinburgh, we have had constant illness in the family, and the continued and gradually increasing weakness of our dear Eliza, is a source of perpetual anxiety to us." . . . " We have been fortunate enough to get seats in Dr Gordon's church, which I esteem an immense privilege. Edinburgh is still ringing with the disputes of Anglicanus and the Christian Instructor; but you have read them, I suppose, for yourself, so I need not give you any account of them The enemies of religion are triumphing in the disputes which thus rend asunder the Christian world, but their triumphs will be short-lived ; for, whatever be the temporary interruptions to the advancement of Christianity, it is the work of that unseen and glorious Being whose honour will be promoted by its advancement. " Eliza is, as usual, suffering with great patience, and seems resigned to the will of God. . . . There is no symptom in her com- plaints indicating any immediate danger; but the debility, and extreme exhaustion of her constitution, leave us little room to expect she will ever get very strong. We have at all times rea- son to remark how precarious life is, and how subject, at its best state, to the many ills which sin has inflicted. Every thing around us bears the stamp of that death which lays waste our fairest prospects, and turns to dust all that we are accustomed to admire or love ; but there is another system going onward, which out of its ruins promises to erect a fabric capable of sur- viving created things. Of this system, Christ, the head, is also the builder. Every stone, therefore, which he has placed there to contribute to its stability and permanence, has been cut and polished by Him who is supreme in wisdom, as he is perfect in strength. If we could live more habitually by faith in unseen objects, our happiness would be greater, and we should be better prepared to serve God. There is a sort of religion, which many people possess, but, as the light which it yields is dim and un- certain, the motives which it holds out for their obedience are MRS WILSOK. 73 wanting in efficacy. To be undecided in a matter of such deep and awful importance, may be fraught with eternal ruin ; but to be the followers of Christ, and not ashamed of him or of his cross, brings with it a rich and everlasting reward. " My sisters join me in united love to you and dear Mary. — Adieu. May every blessing attend you ; and with much love, I ever am, your very attached friend, M. B." '[ To A. K., Esq. 22, Comely Bank, March 13, 1828. " My dearest Friend, — Though I feel, at present, utterly incapacitated for writing, the longing desire which we all feel, that you should be made a partaker of our joy, and be led with us to magnify the Lord for having raised up in the midst of us such striking and marvellous displays of the mighty power whereby he worketh in them who believe, has compelled me to make known to you some circumstances connected with the ill- ness of our dearest Eliza. You have already heard, that for some time past her health has been gradually declining; but, though we witnessed the rapid decay of her strength, and saw that every new day seemed to make a change upon it, we had so often seen her reduced to a similar state of weakness, that none of us felt in the least alarmed about her. For the last fortnight, the change has been most perceptible, consumption making rapid inroads upon a constitution worn down by previous sufferings; and, though she is at times exempted from much of the severe suffering she formerly had, every indication of her complaint is such as announces a near and speedy dissolution. Amid this decay of bodily strength, her soul has become firmer, being fixed upon that rock of ages against which all the billows of time can- not prevail; and, from the cramped and feeble energies of a mind narrowed and confined by the influences of the world, it has grown into that expansiveness of holy desire and feeling which is an earnest of heaven, and shows us, as in a glass, darkly, the felicities of its blessed state. I feel a solemnity upon my spirit, and a joy which swallows up earthly sorrow, in being permitted to hear the words of one whose soul has so evidently become a temple for the Divine Spirit, and whose every expres- sion of praise and thanksgiving is but the beginning of that eter- 74 MEMOIR OF nal song which she shall sing with unceasing rapture in heaven . For some time, she talked little to us about her own prospects, or the realizing views which she then had of the eternal world ; but her thoughts were intensely fixed upon Christ, and, in the deep and almost constant study of the Scriptures, her soul was refreshed as from a living spring. " A few nights ago, we had got her taken out of bed ; the accents of her voice were so feeble when she attempted to speak, that it was with difficulty we understood her; and, when she looked around upon us all, she seemed much aifected. She twice said, ' 0 that I could speak to you !' evidently breathing a prayer, part of which we distinctly heard. Her desire was soon granted, for, in a little after, she spoke to us of her unworthiness of the least mercy ; but saying, that, through the atonement and righteousness of Christ, she humbly hoped to be admitted into heaven. — 0 amazing ! that a great and eternal weight of glory should await such a worm as I am ! Her voice again became weak, but she spoke much of Christ's sufferings ; and turning to John, she said with deep earnestness, ' 0 value Christ more ; you can never value him enough ; you can never suifer enough for him !' Looking to us, she said, ' Profit by this affliction — this is my dying request ! 0 value Christ ! Tell every body that the world is unsatisfying ; that nothing can support the soul but Christ !' At another time she said, ' I shall soon walk through the dark valley and shadow of death ; but the way is short ! The body will be laid in the grave; that too will be short! Every thing is short, short, but eternity ! 0 come to Jesus ; you can- not value the blessed Jesus enough ; you cannot devote yourselves too early to God ! 0, the love of God, it passeth knowledge !' At another time, she said, fixing her eyes upon us. ' I am going where you cannot follow me now; but I hope you will soon fol- low me — perhaps sooner than you think ! 0 that you were more like the children of light in this evil world ! 0 that you did more to promote his kingdom and honour upon earth ! Study the Bible more; I have found it the best book.' In reply to a remark of A., she said, with a solemn voice, and in the attitude of prayer, ' 0 that this whole house were a Bethel !' I sat up with her last night; and 0 my dear friend, let me never forget MRS WILSON. 75 the solemnities of the hour and of the scene, for truly God was in this place, though I knew it not. She spoke with inexpres- sible tenderness of my sisters, dwelling upon all the kindness which they had showed her, and speaking from time to time of her own unworthiness, that she might exalt him who is worthy to receive all honour, and glory, and dominion. She spoke much of the felicity of heaven, dwelling with delight upon the increased, and still increasing, number of its inhabitants^ I said to her, ' While we are speaking, a redeemed and ransomed sinner, from among men, may be entering upon its blessedness.' — ' 0 yesT was her reply, ' with the palm of victory in his hand ; there is no mourning, no sorrow, no sin there !' I added, ' It is because there is no sin, that the people of God love to contemplate it." She looked at me with earnestness, and said, ' It is because Christ is there, and he fills it with his glory. Christ is glorious in his person — glorious in his work — glorious in the many ' Her words failed her here ; and she seemed earnestly and fixedly engaged in prayer. Turning to me again, she said, ' Margaret, do you think it will be longf I answered it was impossible to say, and asked her if she longed to depart and to be with Christ. She said, ' I have committed myself to God ; I have no will but his.' She entreated me to do more for the honour of Christ; and, when I asked her if she wished me to pray for any thing in particular, she replied, ^ When the last, the trying hour is come, — that I may be supported, and enabled to glorify Christ.' These, my dearest friend, are but a few of the many things she said to us. When I asked her, if she had any message for you, she said, ' Tell them that Christ is very precious to me, and say to A., that he cannot know Christ's glory till he see him as he is, — till he behold his reconciled face.' To-night she is weaker, and the ex- pression of her countenance such as I never before witnessed. We have all been enabled to give her up to God, and have no desire for her, but that she may be made perfect in her Redeemer, and see him as he is. With much love, yours ever. M. B." " To Miss R., Elgin. Edinburgh, 1 Uh April 1828. " Your letter, my dearest Louisa, I did not receive till after the death of my beloved sister. From your mamma's letter, I find . 76 MEMOIR OF that you were aware of Eliza's delicate state of health, and of the severe and protracted sufferings with which God, in the infinitude of his love and compassion, saw fit to chastise his beloved child. She was at first chosen in the furnace of affliction, and, during the subsequent periods of a short but suffering existence, she was never heard to breathe one repining thought, or to harbour, for one moment, the wish that it might be otherwise. She might be said to live alone in the world ; for, though the touching simpli- city of her character, her disinterested endeavours to promote the happiness of those around her, and the gentleness and childlike meekness which characterised all her actions, made her an object of tender solicitude to us, and of admiration to all who witnessed the display of these amiable qualities, she lived much in retire- ment, and her communion and fellowship were with the Father, and with his Son, Christ Jesus. She was uniformly cheerful ; but hers was a cheerfulness tempered with such calmness, that you could not witness it without feeling that it arose from a mind regulated in all its actings by the principles of religion, and raised above the agitations of time by those elevated and glorious hopes which faith can unfold to all who serve God here, and who look forward with earnest desire to their final accomplishment in hea- ven. It has been a source of bitter but unavailing regret to me, that, while privileged to enjoy the saintlike conversation, and eager aspiring of a soul bent upon the enjoyments of heaven, I should have profited so little by it; and that, while I had it in my power, I should have done so little to draw out the character of one whose retiring and unostentatious habits rendered her in a great measure unknown to many who could have loved and appreciated her worth. These reflections, my dearest L., though the cause of bitter regret, and of much self-condemnation, should be lost sight of in the contemplation of that exalted happiness to which she is now raised, in the presence of God, her heavenly Father, and of Jesus, her elder Brother, amid the adoring throng of the redeemed. She stood not in need of any thing to augment her earthly happiness, while she possessed that peace of God which passeth all understanding. The holy transports which she felt in the immediate prospect of death distanced earthly joys, and stamped with an utter insignificance all the honours for which MRS WILSON. 77 we are accustomed to contend. And now, having put off her earthly garments, and having entered, arrayed in the robe of Christ's righteousness, into the heavenly Jerusalem, the dwelling- place of God himself, no more to feel the pang of disappointment, but to shine for ever with a light brighter than the stars ; what will be to her all the remembrances of earth, but the thought of a dark prison-house, whence she has escaped — the phantoms of a dream which can no more terrify and affright ! " On our return from Greenock in the beginning of winter, we found her so much stronger than when we had parted from her in autumn, that our hopes of her recovery were much raised. She continued much in her usual state during the winter, but in spring she again grew worse ; her strength began rapidly to de- cline, and many of the symptoms indicated consumption. We had often seen her reduced to a similar state of weakness ; and, therefore, were not seriously alarmed till a few weeks before her death. Had we marked, as we might have done, the growing purity of her character, her rapid advances in knowledge, and the moral fitness of her nature for the exercises and enjoyments of heaven, we might have seen that she could not long be a habitant of earth. This my brother (to whom she talked frequently on religious subjects,) observed, and has since noticed to us. On being told the doctor's opinion of her case, she betrayed no agi- tation. With a tear in her eye, she said she always thought it would come to this, and told us of a presentiment she had that she could not survive the spring. She entreated us all to profit by this affliction, expressing her earnest wish that we might live more like the children of light than we had hitherto done. She entreated us to look to Jesus, saying, ' You can never value the blessed Jesus enough, — you cannot do enough to promote his glory, — ^you cannot devote yourselves too early to God. Oh! the love of God ! it passeth knowledge.' This was before she heard Dr Abercrombie's opinion of her case, and could proceed from no unusual excitement of feeling. When her sisters re- quested her to pray for them, she said, ' Yes, I am praying for you all,, that you all may become the followers of Christ. I can- not pray long, but Jesus is interceding on a throne of grace. Oh ! pray for yourselves !' My youngest sister showed her some flowers 78 MEMOIR OF a lady had sent to her. She then took them in her hand, and, observing one of them faded, said, ' Look at that; it is fast de- caying,— aye, and the rest will soon follow.' Admiring their exquisite tints, she said, as if rapt in admiration at the glories of their Creator, ^ When could man form these V Sitting up a little one afternoon, she said, ' I am thinking of the blessed com- pany of the redeemed, when I am sitting so dull here.' . . . " For a few days before her death she was extremely weak, and unable to speak. We had all committed her to God, in the joyful hope of meeting with her in heaven, but not expecting that we should ever again hear her voice upon earth. On Sabbath, the last day of her earthly existence, and the prelude of that eternal Sabbath of delight which shall never end, she did not speak at all, but had her eyes and her hands often lifted up to heaven in prayer. About eleven at night she became much weaker, and desired that we should all be called in. When we were gathered around her dying bed, she again entreated of us to seek the Lord while he might be found, to call upon him while he is near. Hearing her sisters sobbing aloud, she said with great tenderness, ' 0 be composed, when the peace of Jesus' ; but her words died away. We then thought death was about to re- lease her from mortal bondage, and usher her into the Paradise of delights ; but, a little after, her countenance became brighter than it had been for many days ; an expression of ineffable joy beamed upon it j her eye seemed dazzled as if she had never again ex- pected to look upon the scenes of time; and, after wandering over us all, it fixed upon Anna. She said, in a tone and with an expression which I shall never forget, ' Anna ! Anna Bayne ! my sister, am I come back to you alH I thought I was going to heaven.' Anna said, ' May the presence of God be with you.' She replied, in a manner awfully solemn, ' He is present with me,' — as if she had already seen things unutterable. Then, pur- suing her own train of feeling, she said a little after, ' I am lost in astonishment; I cannot fathom it.' John repeating to her, ' Though I walk through the valley and shadow of death, I will fear no evil,' she finished the passage, and then exclaimed, ' He compasseth me about with songs of deliverance.' When my brother repeated another passage, descriptive of the Christian's MRS WILSON. 79 hope, slie uttered with a loud voice, ' A hope so great, and so divine, may trials well endure.' She desired us all to kiss her, commending us to God, and pronouncing over us her dying bless- ing. Her countenance retained its expression of joy, and, without a struggle, she fell asleep in Jesus, about half-past six in the morning. I shall never forget the aspect of that morning, or the scene of desolation which her chamber presented, when the im- mortal spirit had taken its flight to heaven. To her, it was a morning without clouds. I have written you these things, my dearest L., in the earnest hope that you may profit by them. We are commanded to exhort one another, and so much the more that the day is approaching. Ever yours. M. B." The triumph over death, the last enemy, which was granted to Eliza, and of which such an interesting account is given in the preceding letters, was most glorious ; and the contemplation of it was greatly blessed to Margaret, who, like the other sisters, had been unremitting in attendance during the last scene. It excited in her the deepest sympathy, not only with the bodily sorrows and sufferings of the patient, who was deservedly so dear; but, what indicated the highest Christian affection, with her spiritual peace and joy, with her longings for deliverance from the body of sin and death, and a glorious introduction into the inamediate presence of the Lord and Saviour. Her confidence in the Redeemer's love and faithfulness, her resignation to his sovereign dispensations, her gratitude, so difficult to exhibit in the hour of trial, for mercies received, and at present enjoyed, and her realization of the ineffable glories of heaven, were strik- ingly apparent to all who had in any degree the felicity of her society. They appeared to myself so remarkable, that their ex- pression is even at this moment vividly before my mind ; and, when I witnessed them, I thought the influence of divine grace not less remarkably manifested in the tenderly sympathizing sister than in the sufferer, who was about to be removed from her tear- ful eyes. The exhortations which were addressed to her, respect- ing a closer walk with God, and an increased devotedness to the Redeemer's cause, sank into her inmost soul; and she solemnly vowed, that, with aid from above, she would give them a prac- tical attention, in a more unreserved consecration of Ker talents, acquirements, time, and influence, to the service of God. 80 MEMOIR OF CHAPTER IV. ENGAGEMENT TO BE MARRIED— VIEWS AND FEELINGS IN THE PROSPECT OF PROCEED- ING TO INDIA AS A MISSIONARY— EXTRACTS FROM HER CORRESPONDENCE— FARE- WELL VISIT TO GREENOCK— LETTERS TO MR WILSON OxV HIS ORDINATION TO THE WORK OF THE MINISTRY, AND TO OTHER CHRISTIAN FRIENDS— MARRIAGE. No long period had passed away, when circumstances, ordered by Him who regulates every event connected with human destiny appeared in a remarkable manner to harmonize with the aspira- tions and purposes of the subject of this Memoir. Her friend- ship with myself had ripened into that mutual regard and affec- tion, which, viewed in connection with my future prospects, seemed to warrant and invite our entering into the most endeared relation known on earth. With the fullest confidence in her capacity to minister to my happiness, and, through God's assist- ance, to contribute in an eminent degree, by her rare endowments of nature and grace, to the advancement of the Redeemer's king- dom in India, — to which, on the completion of my literary and theological studies, and with the appointment of the directors of the Scottish Missionary Society, I had for some time looked for- ward as the scene of my labours, — I invited her to be the sharer of my joys and sorrows, of my toil and its reward. She had humbly and faithfully prosecuted the work of self-examination, and asked counsel of the Lord in fervent and persevering prayer ; and she considered it her duty cheerfully to acquiesce in my proposal. It is impossible for me to describe the joy which I felt in the happy prospects which, in that gracious Providence which I can never sufficiently adore, were thus opened up to me; and which, bright though they were, have been more than a hundred- fold realized. Respecting the views and feelings connected with her decision, I can speak without reserve. She had a lively sense of the trials which she would be called to endure on leav- MRS WILSON. 81 ing Scotland, and those many relatives and friends who had long regarded her with the greatest fondness, in whose society, and Christian and literary sympathies, she had so much delighted, and who were on many accounts dear to her as her own soul. She formed a correct estimate, also, of the perils of a foreign pil- grimage, and the hardships of a determined warfare with the powers of darkness, and their votaries, in the " high places of the field." She looked, however, to that Saviour, who left the bosom of the Father, disrobing himself of his glory, and who as- sumed the lowly nature of man, and lived a life of unparalleled labour and suffering, and presented himself as a sacrifice on the altar of his Father's justice, that he might accomplish the redemp- tion of his people ; and she felt that the infinity of his love could meet with no return, even with no adequate expression of grati- tude, in the costliest offering which she could make, and the most painful course of self-denial on which she could enter. She hailed with joy the opportunity presented to her of "redeeming the time," by commencing a system of personal exertion in the most glorious cause. Though conscious of utter insufficiency in herself for the discharge of the duties, and the endurance of the afflictions which awaited her, she knew that the grace of Christ was sufficient for her, and that the path of humble obedience was the most likely to invite spiritual blessings. The promises respecting the future glory and perpetuity of the kingdom of Christ, which are to be found in the Bible, were realized by her in all their fulness and certainty. Her feelings were those of zeal for the honour of God, and benevolence towards those who had long sat in the region of the shadow of death ; and she an- ticipated the highest enjoyment from their gratification. She was ardently desirous to participate in the honourable work of building the temple of the Lord ; but she felt that she would be in possession of a privilege, even though she should be permitted to do nothing more than to encourage one who might attempt to advance it. Time, and all the things of time, whether connected with enjopnent or suffering, were viewed by her in the light of eternity. Her own letters, written in the prospect of leaving Scotland, manifest the exercises of her mind, in relation to the state into 82 MEMOIR OF which she was about to enter, and her dedication to the work of the Redeemer, as will appear from the following extracts. " 22 Comely Bank, Edinburgh, April 24, 1828. " It is a subject most deeply important, whether we view it in connection with our individual prospects, or with the building up, and perfecting of Zion's glory, which is declared in Scripture to be a building of Grod, the dwelling-place of his ma- jesty, and the brightest monument which his power and wisdom have reared upon the ruins of our fallen world. We have only to look into the mysteries of redeeming grace and mercy, to sur- vey the trophies of the cross, or to widen our field of vision, by embracing within its range those prophetic intimations of glory and blessedness which gladdened, in distant prospect, the minds of prophets and holy men, to have our love to Christ strength- ened, and to feel our sacred and unalterable obligations to render him our entire and undivided services. In surveying the bygone course of my existence, which seems to resemble a record of events once engraven in living characters, but now dimmed and faded by time, I have to mourn the largest portion of it spent in the service of the world. When I recall the more solemn seasons in which I vowed allegiance to God, and professed to offer him the homage of my heart, with the uncompromising obedience of my life, I can perceive much insincerity; and every subsequent act seems only to have been characterised by a deeper rebellion, and a greater tendency to resort to those unhallowed expedients by which the world allures its votaries, in their chase after happiness. I have been especially led to deplore my inactivity and want of zeal in the service of Christ. This inactivity has been, for many years, a source of much infelicity to me ; and, I doubt not, it has proved one powerful mean of retarding my advancement in the divine life. It has led me to question whether love to Christ was, or ever could have been, the pervading principle of my obe- dience, seeing that neither the enactments of God's holy autho- rity, nor the principles of divine compassion and love, brought into full display in the redemption of our world, nor the spectacle of this world itself, — shut out from happiness, and yet not com- plete in misery, for no other reason but that it is wrapped up in an impenetrable security, — had power to awaken me from my MRS WILSON. 83 lethargy. For the last six months, it has been my earnest, and almost constant prayer to Heaven, that a way might be opened up to me, whereby I might sgrve God with constancy, and greater devotedness of heart ; but now, that, in the providence of God, a great door and effectual has been opened to me, whereby I may serve with you, in the fellowship of the Gospel, and in making known to the heathen the unsearchable riches of Christ, I feel appalled at the magnitude of the work, and at the view of my utter disqualifications for entering upon it. The latter conside- ration almost overwhelms me. Yet, why should I feel thus dis- couraged 1 Though weak in myself, I go forth under the banners of Him who is mighty as the King of his Church. Jesus is in- terested in her prosperity. It is his presence that gladdens the solitary waste, and that causes the desert to rejoice and blossom as doth the rose; and had I the intellect of the angels, and all those pure and lofty capacities of loving and serving God pos- sessed by them, it might prove utterly inadequate to the pulling down of Satan's strongholds, without the agency and goings-forth of that mighty Conqueror, who, in the words of inspiration, is described as coming ' from Edom, with dyed garments, from Bozra, travelling in the greatness of his strength, speaking in righteousness, and mighty to save.' In this and every other event of our life, may we endeavour to make the glory of God the supreme and paramount object. Time, with its events, is fast hastening away; every evolution in the scheme of Providence brings us nearer the consummation of all things ; and while, in their turn, empires arise, and flourish, and decay, let us remember that the kingdom which we seek to establish is an everlasting kingdom, its dominion that which fadeth not away. My fervent prayers are for your happiness in the great work in which you are about to embark. May the arm of the Lord, which is mighty, conduct you in all your wanderings through the great and terrible wilderness by which he is to lead you to the Canaan of rest ; and, when your toils and journey ings are ended, may you join the ransomed of the Lord, to unite in their eternal hallelujahs, and to serve God for ever in his holy temple ! — Yours ever. M.B." The following letter was addressed to me, on her hearing of my being licensed as a preacher of the Gospel by the Presbytery 84 MEMOIR OF of Lauder. It adverts to tlie information which she had received from me on that subject, and also to the services in which she had been engaged, or which she contemplated, in connection with the dispensation of the holy ordinance of the Supper : — « 22 Comely Bank, 10/A May 1828. " Your interesting letter I received last night, after coming out of church. You were present to my thoughts during the whole of Wednesday ; and, yesterday, while engaged in the sa- cred employments of the sanctuary, I did not think it unbefitting to lift up my heart in supplication for you. Being commissioned to go forth with the message of Heaven, I doubt not that you will exhibit the zeal for your Divine Master which distinguishes his true ambassadors; and by looking into the mysteries of the cross, you will discover the principles which can sustain and animate your confidence amid all the trials which may await you. It is only by looking to it that we are enabled to perceive the imper- ishable nature of God's love to sinners, and to discern what is the central point of his divinely constructed economy. A moral influence proceeds from it, which must ever secure our obedience ; and, when our love to the souls of men languishes through unbe- lief, or the intrusion of worldly feeling, we must come anew within the attractions of this glorious object, to have it enkindled or created auew " I was glad to learn that every thing went on so agreeably at the Presbytery. I shall remember Dr C, &c., in gratitude, for the honour conferred upon me. We were delighted with the services of yesterday. In the evening, we went to hear Mr Fraser, Kirkhill. He preached on the 3d chapter of Hebrews, ' But Christ, as a son over his own house; whose house are we, if we hold fast the confidence and rejoicing of the hope firm unto the end.' He was fatigued, and did not appear animated ; but there was the same deep and sustained argument, the same perspicuity of arrangement, with that accurate knowledge of the movements of mind, and the varied combination of its feelings, which always characterise his preaching In his view of the confidence and rejoicing essential to the being, and still more to the perpe- tuity, of the house of which Christ himself is the builder, he had some striking ideas, and pointed out new but permanent relations MRS WILSON. 85 of truth. The doctrine of confidence, as stated by him, needed no fences set around it, as, in fact, it lays the foundation for hu- mility; and that which is separated from it, though called by the name, is only pride, or one of the modifications of self-right- eousness. 0, it is a solemn thing to approach our Redeemer in an act that bespeaks so unequivocally our confidence in him, and our avowal of his sufferings and death, as that by which an atone- ment is made. Could we behold his glory, or conceive of that ineffable union which took place when the attributes of his God- head were blended with the principles of humanity, how would it awe, and yet rejoice, our souls, to feel that we were brought into such near communion with him ! Hypocrisy, in such cir- cumstances, were base indeed; but is it not true, that our pro- fessions are often insincere, and that, coming down from the mount, where we may have been with Jesus, we carry with us but little of the impress of his character? Sin does, indeed, con- taminate our best services. We feel it in the aspirations of our souls when they ascend heavenward, and even when fire from the altar enkindleth a flame in our hearts : for, though this move- ment cannot be suspended, nor the sacred fire quenched, both are retarded in their exercise and effect, by reason of its noxious indwelling. To think of a spot or region in creation where sin is excluded, and where moral perfection reigns entire as when it came from the finger of God, awakens in our hearts feelings akin to rapture. What then must heaven be, where, in addition to surpassing glories, it has the presence of him who is shrined in light, and whose throne has stood through the eternal ages? We are going up to the feast ; and it is an emblem of the marriage supper, at which Jesus presides, and where those who love him shall all be assembled. May we, in the language of faith, say, 'We would see Jesus,' and receive what he has provided now, as the earnest and pledge of the blessed realities which await us in heaven. Your situation is one also of deep interest, as you are to proclaim, for the first time, the overtures of reconciliation and peace ! I trust the Angel of the Covenant will stand by you ; and that, from above the mercy-seat, you will behold such a glory as will stay and strengthen your mind Remember me in much affection to all your friends, especially to your father and Se MEMOIR OF mother. And wishing you every blessing now and hereafter, , believe me, ever yours. M. B." At the table of the Lord, in Br Gordon's church, in which, with the greatest spiritual profit to herself, she usually worshipped in Edinburgh, her feelings, with the prospect, on the one hand, of her being soon called to leave the fellowship of the saints in Scotland, and, on the other, of engaging so directly in the ad- vancement of the Redeemer's cause in the Eastern world, were those of unusual solemnity and interest. She was enabled to renew her vows in the presence of the Lord, and to solicit those blessings which her circumstances imperiously demanded ; while she experienced much of that peace which arises from the con- templation of the Saviour's accepted sacrifice, and much of that strength and courage which communion with him never fails to impart. Her preparation for the trials which awaited her was thus advanced. The first tearing asunder of the tender ties which bound her to her native country, took place in connection with a visit to Greenock — a place the most hallowed in her youthful remem- brances and purest Christian affections. In the following letter, we have an account of her journey thither, and the meeting with her friends. It is distinguished both by its animation and ten- derness. " Greenock, June 10, 1828. " My dearest Friend, — I was just in time for the coach, after parting with you. Our only male companion was an old gentleman. He was somewhat taciturn, and, except when he gave an oracular Yes, or No, to the interrogatories of the ladies, accompanied by a bow and corresponding shrug of his shoulders, he left us very much to our own meditations. We had time for reflection : but, like your friend, Mr I , I am generally so much occupied with the materialism of events, that I lose the deeper and more hidden lessons which their outward form may convey. I coughed all the time, and felt a good deal fatigued on arriving in Glasgow; but we were anxious to pursue our journey, and, as there was a boat at six, we resolved on taking it. It was a splendid evening; and, as our enjoyments take much of their character, or at least of their intensity, from the MRS WILSON. 87 circumstances which precede them, our pleasure in viewing the scenery was greatly enhanced by the contrast which it presented to the uninteresting and barren tract of country through which we had passed in the earlier part of the day. The vessels and fishing-boats moving on the face of the waters, gave life and ani- mation to the scene. The hills appeared, if possible, more ma- jestic than usual, from the clearness of the atmosphere, which showed distinctly their outline, with all the inequalities on their surface; and the sun, retreating in majesty behind them, from amid double pillars of golden and fleecy clouds, presented a scene unequalled by any thing that I have witnessed since the last evening that I looked upon those very hills. It is astonishing that we can look on nature without seeing in it the actings of the Godhead. Every exhibition of material loveliness shadows forth the unseen glories of our Creator. The changes of nature are but the expressions of his will ; — its laws the decrees by which he renders its order perpetual. In every thing around us, we may discover the footprints of his majesty, and no necessity does, or can exist, but the Divine will. It is one of the melancholy effects of the fall, that we have lost sight of that relationship in which our Holy Creator stands to the objects around us ; and the restoration of this, though not the primary object in our re- demption, must, in some degree, be felt by every renewed mind. We are now banished outcasts from Eden, and we cannot con- ceive, still less feel, the joy and happiness w^hich the sight of this goodly world could originally impart to the soul ; but, by a new and holier order of things, if we are indeed the children of God, we stand in a higher relationship to him who is our living head, and to all the worlds which he has created, than even Adam can be conceived to have stood in. Oh for faith to perceive the true value of this relationship, and to cherish that habitual and child- like dependence which it involves ! The Christian cannot exist separately from God. It is a beam from the fountain of his eter- nal love that gladdens him — it is on omnipotence that he relies — it is the discovery of his glory and majesty that enkindles rapture in his heart. It is by feeling our relationship to God that we can know aright the true relation in which we stand to our fellow- creatures, and to the general order of things around us, or have 88 MEMOIR OF a proper sense of our obligations to serve God, and promote, by a course of strenuous and devoted obedience, the well-being of mankind. " We felt much on landing here. I can think of Greenock only as a place of recollections ; and, in walking along its crowded streets, every thing seemed like a memorial of the dead. I had much comfort in endeavouring to raise my thoughts above the fleeting and transitory objects of time. Heaven seemed dearer to me, because it is the habitation of holiness, as well as the place whence sorrow and change are for ever excluded. I felt that we are exiles ; and, as it is more noble for the captive to pant for liberty, and to sigh after the blessings of promised deliverance, than to rest satisfied in his inglorious stat-e, so did I long for that liberty with which sinners are made free. You, my dearest friend, have been much in my thoughts since I came here, and it is truly gladdening to my heart to witness the deep and un- feigned interest which your future prospects in the world have awakened in many minds. We found our beloved friends more composed than I had even dared to anticipate. A looks wan and emaciated, and disease has made ravages on his tender frame since I last saw him ; but his mind is stronger than ever : its frame-work is indeed of no ordinary kind ; but what were those noble powers which God has implanted in him, if they were not directed to him as their source, and the foundation of their happiness ! The desires which God has infused into his soul, bespeak their origin from above, and never, till they return to their source, will they find the happiness to which they point. He was much affected at seeing me, and said that he had but that evening breathed the desire in prayer to his father in heaven, that he might be permitted to see me again. It is a privilege to be with him, and to breathe in the spiritual atmosphere of his thoughts I have risen from this letter about thirty times. What strange patch-work it must be ! I have not time to read it over, so you must excuse all its blunders, which I am sure are many. Tell me every thing about yourself, and your friends. — Yours, &c. M. B." On her return to Edinburgh, she thus wrote to one of the dearest of her many friends, whom she had seen during this visit MRS WILSON. 89 to the place of her nativity : — " When I was pressed for the last time to your heart, one of those cold and chilling blasts of misery came over my soul which would, were we not sustained by om- nipotence, extinguish our very life. I took comfort from the remembrance of your prayer, assured that the Spirit of God was with you in no ordinary degree, and that he had made it the means of rejoicing to my soul. I endeavoured to raise my thoughts in supplication for you and your beloved sisters ; and I had such discoveries of heaven, such an assured hope that we should walk together in white raiment, and that you would, ere long, be a pillar in the New Jerusalem, .... that it calmed my mind for the remainder of the day. The scenery all the way up [the Clyde] looked more beautiful than I had ever before seen it ; and as the hills, which I had looked upon from my childhood, receded from view, a bright gleam of sunshine illuminated the summits, like those glimpses of heavenly light which God has been pleased to vouchsafe to his people when their journey is nearly terminated, and they stand upon the very verge of heaven. Six years afterwards, she thus notices the same memorable im- pressions : — " It was a bright summers day; and my beloved, and now angelic, sister Mary was with me. We had just returned from visiting the grave of our beloved parents ; and, as I had the near prospect of quitting, probably for ever, the land of my birth, my thoughts and reflections were of a very solemn kind. I had been much edified and refreshed by my visit to A., and his last prayers and benedictions left the most pleasing impression on my mind. I felt a joy which I cannot describe even in parting with him. It was like a foretaste of the communion of heaven ; and, as we were silently, but rapidly, carried along the smooth stream, I looked back on the beautiful mountains receding from our view with scarcely a feeling .of regret. My mind was filled with thoughts of the New Jerusalem, and of the glorious meet- ing which I expected to enjoy with all the faithful in Christ Jesus, and with the prophets, apostles, and martyrs, who had sealed their testimony with their blood." What a fulfilment, in this happy anticipation, was there of the promise, " As thy day is, so shall thy strength be !" My own solemn ordination, as a minister of the Church of 90 MEMOIR OF Scotland, by the Presbytery of Lauder, took place on the 24th June 1828. A most interesting address was on that occasion delivered to me by my friend Mr Gupples, then of Leger\^^ood, but now of the Free Church at Kilmadock, who acted as mode- rator. She, who was to be my fellow-worker in my ministry among the Gentiles, was not able to be present with me. How much I enjoyed, however, her sjmipathy, and her fervent aspi- rations to the Great Head of the Church, and how much her soul was engaged in other heavenly exercises becoming the situa- tion of us both, will appear from the first of the two following communications. 28th June 1828. " T felt so deeply affected at parting with you, and had such a consciousness of my own weakness, that, had my thoughts not turned to the omnipotency of God, they would have resembled the dove, which came forth from the ark, when floating above the solitude of the waters, but could not find a place to rest her weary wing. " I was cheered by the assurance that the throne of grace was open to my approach, and that the Great High Priest, now set over the house of God, is the sole and absolute proprietor of that rich treasury of spiritual blessings which he dispenses in varied proportions to his believing people. We narrow the subject of prayer, when we do not embrace every thing connected with our moral ideas, and the circumstances of others. It should have a specific object, which, more than any thing, tends to divest it of that indifference by which it is too often characterised. In ad- dressing the throne of grace in my own behalf, even when my prayers refer to the bestowment of spiritual blessings, and to the moral transformation of my soul from sin to purity, my supplica- tions are languid, and altogether disproportioned to the urgency of my wants ; but, in pleading for you, I experience a fervency which sometimes astonishes me. I could not sleep on Monday night, and therefore did not go to bed. It was a beautiful night, and the morning was still more lovely. I sat watching the grad- ual unfoldings of the light, with the fine tints which ushered in the morning. In the first emanations of material light from its fountain, and in its progressive advancement till it unveils to us MRS WILSON. 91 more fully the glories of creation, we have a fit emblem of the dawn of righteousness, and of the rising of the Sun of Righteous- ness, who shall shine until he hath illuminated all lands, and till the Lord's house shall be established on the top of the mountains. I had much enjoyment in committing you to God, and in reflect- ing upon your future prospects. The presence of Jesus compass- ing you round about — his love filling your soul — all his high perfections enlisted for your support — and your happiness becom- ing purer by being assimilated to the joys of heaven, were brought to my mind with a certainty of belief, which made my unbeliev- ing heart ashamed of its former doubting, and caused me to lift my feeble voice in thanksgiving to Grod. I could rejoice in his work as at present going on ; and, still more, in the anticipation of that glorious time, when the mystery of God shall be accom- plished in the complete triumphs of the Cross. Outward events seemed to pass away, and even this earth, which looked so fair and beautiful, lost its verdure when contrasted with the splen- dours of the new heavens and the new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness. You are invested with a high and sacred charac- ter. I shall, with you, pray that you may be enabled to make full proof of your ministry. The charge of souls is awfully im- portant, and cannot sit lightly upon the consciences of those who have felt the terrors of the second death, or know the great price at which redemption was purchased. Christianity itself, and its administration by human means, have been properly distinguish- ed. The means, however, are of divine appointment; and it must be your consolation to reflect, that, if a special agency ac- companies them, they will and must prove efficacious. It is well for you that no apparatus of human wisdom requires to be brought into action : if it were so, its movements would be complicated, and its laws, if it had any, would be wanting in that harmony and simplicity by which great ends are effected. Every thing great in science is produced by an observation of the laws of na- ture, and by bringing them to bear upon particular results ; and every thing of value in religion depends on the operation of prin- ciples laid down in simplicity, and brought to bear upon the mind, in all the variety of its movements, and in all the springs of its actings. The promise of supernatural agency is the pledge 92 MEMOIR OF of your success ; and it must also be the ground of your confi- dence. Without it, what were preaching 1 Your remarks on prayer, I found especially applicable to myself, as they served to minister reproof It is indeed strange that we limit our aspira- tions to times and places, when every time is to us a time of ur- gent necessity, and every place filled and pervaded by the presence of Him whom we should adore and love. Did we really perceive, that, in every manifested perfection of the Divine character, there is involved such a display of love and tender compassion as fills heaven with astonishment and wonder, we, the dwellers on the earth, could not be silent amid their hallelujahs, but would find frequent occasions to express our gratitude, and lift up our thoughts to His majestic throne. Prayer is not alone the breath- ing out of our wants, though this is an important part of it, but the fervent aspiration of the soul to God. It is an humbling of ourselves before the Sovereign Majesty, the lowly confession of our sins, and the supplicating of pardon through the atoning sacrifice; and, surely, there is not an hour of our strangely chequered existence, in which it might not, in one shape or other, ascend to heaven." Edinburgh, July 1, 1828. " As Mr Hislop has kindly offered to be the bearer of my despatches, I cannot allow him to take his departure without a . few lines. My motive in writing at present is entirely of a selfish kind, the hope of obtaining a letter in return. This candid avowal may take from the seeming generosity of the action, but should not lessen your obligations to discharge the debt you owe me. I believe that in the least of our actions, there is a combi- nation and variety of motive which we are seldom aware of Had we a moral prism to decompose and separate the motives which conduce to them, as we have for decomposing and separating the rays of material light, we should find that they possess a character and variety very different from that which their more general appearance exhibits. There is one way of ascertaining the reality of our motives, and also the moral worth that belongs to them — bringing them into contact with the word of God. His re- vealed will is the great foundation of moral truth. We may look abroad upon this fair creation, and, seeing the glories of earth and MRS WILSON. 93 sky, we may reason upon the goodness of their great Creator, and inquire if they were not designed for our happiness. We may even gather motives to obedience from the varied displays of his bounty scattered in such profusion around us; but, when they are brought to act upon the mind, they prove utterly feeble. We were not aware of the principle of resistance which opposes their influence. We require not only a moral capacity of perceiving truth, but moral energies to act in accordance with its dictates ; and, while these are wanting, a thousand influences may emanate from the objects around us, delighting us by their sublimity, and lifting our thoughts to the God who adorns them with beauty, without feeling or perceiving one truth necessary to our happiness. " Mr H. gave us an interesting account of your ordination, and of the numbers who were present at it. I hope you con- tinue to enjoy much of the Divine presence, and to feel an entire and simple dependence upon the promised aid of the Holy Spirit. I long for the time when you shall be honoured to preach the Gospel to the perishing heathen. I have a thousand things to write about, but am obliged reluctantly to conclude God bless you, and believe me, &c. — M. B." In the letters which follow, she dwells more on her own feel- ings connected with the prospects which were before her, and the sources of the hope and comfort which animated her souL " To A. K., Esq., Greenock. Edinburgh, July 7, 1 828. . . . . " Though it is the will of our heavenly Father, who is leading us by a pillar of cloud by day, and a pillar of fire by night, that we are now to be separated, never again to meet till our wanderings in the wilderness have terminated, we can both look forward to an inalienable and incorruptible inheritance pur- chased and secured to us in Christ our living head. The night of our separation cannot be long; and, though the winds may howl, and the rains beat upon us, it will be cheered by the star that guides us in our wanderings, and by the prospect of that morning which will be to us, and to all the family of the re- deemed, a morning without clouds — the dawn of a perfect day. To this glorious period, all things have been tending since the creation of man until now. The time present is full of the ma- 94 MEMOIR OF liifestations of an order of things arising out of the past, and advancing onwards to perfection. The time that is to come puts on a prophetic aspect. It will develope more fully this great principle ; but, even were outward events to stand still, as the sun did at the call of Joshua, we would feel it in the spirit's longings for happiness, and in the representations which she makes to herself, of ideal good. It seems a fact necessarily con- nected with time, that all things should be in motion. We can- not conceive of time without motion, — motion being to us the measurer of time ; yet, when we think of this perpetual move- ment of all visible things, and of the grand connection between the frame of outward nature and the interior events of God's providence, we must be led to acknowledge that it is one body- ing-forth of the prophetic narrative, and one evincement of that eternal truth, contained in God's holy word, that ' the whole creation groaneth and travaileth, being in pain together,' until such time as it receiveth the redemption. I feel joy in going back upon the stream of prophetic history, and forward through its yet unaccomplished events, till my thoughts reach that period, whence commences the era of earth's redemption, and of the Church's glory. Now, we are called to look abroad upon her waste and desolate places, and to utter the prayer, ' Awake, awake, put on strength, 0 arm of the Lord; awake as in the ancient days, in the generations of old. Art thou not it that hath cut Rahab, and wounded the dragon?' Ere long, this prayer will be accomplished, and it will give place to the song put forth in the morning of the Church's glory, ' Awake, awake, put on thy strength, 0 Zion ; put on thy beautiful garments, 0 Jerusalem, the holy city; for henceforth there shall no more come unto thee the uncircumcised and the unclean. Shake thy- self from the dust ; arise, and sit down, 0 Jerusalem ; loose thy- self from the bands of thy neck, 0 captive daughter of Zion.' But a more glorious era will commence when the voice heard shall proclaim her complete dominion, ' Arise, for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord hath arisen upon thee.' Before, she was as a captive daughter shaking herself from the dust, and laying aside the symbols of her captivity. Then, she will assert her dominion — her glory being come; for she is described, as MRS WILSON. 95 lifting her eyes and beholding the sea converted unto her, and the forces of the Gentiles coming to her. Now, we hear but the song of her captivity; and the higher strains which should show forth her praises, have become low : but then, all from Sheba shall come unto her; they shall show forth the praises of the Lord. Her altars, now broken down and deserted, shall then be built up. ' All the flocks of Kedar shall be gathered together unto thee, the rams of Nebaioth shall minister unto thee : they shall come up with acceptance on my altar, and I will glorify the house of my glory.' Her gates now shut, so that the mighty cannot pass through them, shall then be open continually; they shall not be shut by night : and, whereas she has been forsaken and hated, so that no man went through her, she shall become an eternal excellency, the joy of many generations. God will appear in his glory, when he shall build up Zion,' We now ^ take pleasure in her stones, and favour the dust thereof;' but all that we can perceive of her true beauty is as the base scaffold- ing, compared to the symmetry and proportion of the entire building; or like the rude materials which are wanting in beauty till the hand of the workman has formed and fashioned them for his use. If we are employed in gathering together the materials, let us not repine, though we should not be honoured in fashion- ing, or laying, one stone of the entire building. It is enough for us to know that our labours will be accepted ; and 0, when we think of the reward of our Redeemer's sufferings, and that in thus working we are laying ours at the shrine of his cross, how should it silence our unbelief, and make us willing to suffer, though it should be unto the death ! If we are true missionaries, we shall go forth with our lives in our hands, ready to sacrifice them, or to devote them to the service of the heathen, as our heavenly Father may see meet. It is a delightful thought that there will be no interruption to his service. If life is prolonged, it will be for this purpose — if death comes, it will usher us into a world where we shall be furnished with new and higher capa- cities for its performance. We know not all the enjoyments of this higher state; but as love is the religion of earth, so it is the element of heaven. I feel the spirit of adoption enabling me to cry, Abba, Father; and, though I am cast down and dejected 96 MEMOIR OF at the thought of my rebellion, and utter vileness, I can yet say, Blessed Jesus ! it is for thee that I am accounted worthy — it is in thy cross that I would glory — it is in thy prevailing interces- sion that I would rejoice. I need greater devotedness, and more ardent love for the souls of men : this can only be obtained by believing the love that God has to us, and by looking to that brightest manifestation of it — the death of his Son. Every thing around us is, indeed, a manifestation of this principle. Creation unfolded it ere man needed redemption ; and, when sin, with a direful force, attempted to expel it from its dominion, it only perpetuated its force, by serving to bring in anew the reign of righteousness, — the kingdom of Christ, of which, it is expressly said, ' it shall have no end.' Love is holiness, for it implies a fit adoration of all the Divine perfections, an assurance of the Di- vine compassion, — a befitting awe of the Divine omnipotence, a joyful sense of the Divine omnipresence. This omnipresence, as dwelling in all, and filling all, can never be understood or re- lished by us, without a belief that God is love; and, with this belief, it can never be absent from the mind. It is because this love dwelleth not in the natural man, that he can live amid out- ward things, recognising their existence, and retaining the im- pressions which they make on him, without recognising the existence and presence of God, who is more intimately present than the objects which he made, they being but the emanations of his glory. It is this truth, believed and acted upon, that in- spires the Christian with joy amid all the varieties of his out- ward condition : and, if we are called to endure sickness — to leave the comforts of social life, and become wanderers in a path- less desert — to renounce kindred and country, with all the allurements they hold out to us, this same truth will put all our fears and misgivings to flight. Henry Martyn said, the only heaven that he desired upon earth was to proclaim the Gospel to perishing sinners. This was a noble sentiment for a mission- ary. It should be our heaven; and it partakes of the joy and the blessedness of the upper sanctuary more nearly than we are aware of, for it is said of the angels, ' Are they not all minister- ing spirits sent forth to minister to them who shall be heirs of salvation?' I would not give up the thought of going to India. MRS WILSON. 97 though I were assured that I was only going to let my ashes re- pose under its soil. Pray that God may send more labourers into his vineyard, and that the voice that reacheth us from the plains, and from the islands of the sea, may not be listened to in vain. The prospect of leaving those who are dear to me some- times oppresses my soul with sadness. I can, at such times, see nothing before me but an interminable wilderness, where all is barrenness, and where death, in his most appalling aspects, seems ready to seize upon me. These thoughts, like the wind of the desert, have a wasting and desolating effect upon the soul. They blast its fairest hopes ; but, blessed be God, they are not permit- ted to exert a constant influence over me. I have had such glimpses of the love of God as make persecution, and famine, and nakedness, and peril, and sword, appear as nothing, knowing that in these things we shall be more than conquerors through him that loved us. " Mr Wilson is on a missionary tour, and has been preaching every day for the last ten days, else he would have written to you. My earnest prayers are for a blessing upon you ! May your peace be as a river, and your righteousness as the waves of the sea ! .... I need not say what joy it would give me to hear from you. — Yours, &c. — M. B." " To Miss R . Edinburgh, July 29, 1828. . " Your letter, my dearest Louisa, would not have been so long unacknowledged by me, had I not been in uncertainty regarding many things that you will be anxious to know. You judge right in supposing that many contending emotions must harass and perplex my mind in the prospect of quitting for ever those who are dear to me, and entering upon a scene, which, humanly speaking, has many privations and difficulties connected with it. These privations must, and will, be felt by all who enter upon the missionary enterprise; but we should make a low, and as- suredly a very mistaken estimate of happiness, did we not keep in remembrance, that it is often amid outward trials and diffi- culties the joys of the Christian do most abound. We have many bright examples of those who have devoted themselves to this enterprise. Their privations were greater than ours, and, 98 MEMOIR OF when they entered upon the scene of their labours, the prospects of their success seemed equally distant. We have only to look to them, now that time has hallowed their memories, and per- mitted us, their survivors, to look abroad upon the field of their labours, once a barren waste, now resembling in many places the garden which the Lord hath planted, to feel and acknowledge that they who sow the s^ed, not less than those who gather the harvest, are blessed. We do not feel aright the value of our spiritual privileges, or rejoice as we ought to do in the day-spring from on high, which hath visited our land, and cheered us by its refreshing beams, unless our hearts are moved with compassion for those who are yet in the darkness of heathenism. Love to Christ ought in all things to be the animating principle of our obedience; but, where this principle does exist, it must be ma- nifested in our devotedness to Christ, and in our willingness to suffer for his sake " The scene of our future labours is in the Bombay Presi- dency Whatever may be our destiny, I trust we shall feel happy in the consciousness of being engaged in one of the loftiest services befitting our finite natures here, or that can employ its immortality in the purer state which awaits us. I have already felt the pangs of separation from those I love, in the painful and constant anticipation of it. I feel that it will be for ever in this world. W^e may meet again, but my heart, with a painful and prophetic foreboding, assures me we shall not. It is when about to part with our beloved friends, that we feel how closely, and by what powerful ties, they are united to us. There are, how- ever, others which time cannot dissolve; and, when all earthly enjoyments fail, we have, in the consideration of the unchange- able love of our heavenly Father, an unfailing and pure source to which we may betake ourselves. God bless you. — Yours ever. M. B." In these letters, we have the expression of the feelings of the writer, — an expression made only in the fullest confidence of Christian friendship, and consequently entirely undisguised. No more evidence need be adduced to show that she was actuated by the purest and most hallowed motives, and sustained only by the testimony and promise of God, when she resolved to devote MRS WILSON. 99 herself to the work of Christ among the Gentiles in a distant land. Her zeal was fervent and aspiring j but it was the result of no mistaken and romantic view of the heathen world — of no panting for the empty honour and glory connected with a personal engagement in a missionary enterprise — and of no tem- porary excitement, which would have subsided at the first pre- sentment of trials and difficulties, the termination of which would only be expected at the close of life itself. It was the same mind which, as we have seen, was most tenderly alive to the claims of kindred and of country, and which had suffered its powerful affections to enshroud the friends who had ministered to its intellectual and spiritual enjoyment, which sought to bring within the grasp of its philanthropy, and the play of its most efficient benevolence, the distant inhabitants of India. Their moral wretchedness and degradation had aroused its compassion, which urged to personal endeavours for their rescue from the curse of God's broken law, and the thraldom of sin and Satan. The command of God was viewed as applicable to the circum- stances which existed, and demanded obedience. This obedience was most clearly seen to be connected with privilege, as well as duty. There was manifested a humility which, in the genuine character of that Christian grace, led, on the one hand, to the renouncement of all self-confidence, and, on the other, to a lively recognition of personal responsibility, and a readiness both to suffer and labour, in regard to time, place, and condition, agree- ably to the appointment of Heaven. The result was seen to rest with God, while every effort which would be made was perceived to be a part of that agency which, in the course of Providence, is necessary to ultimate success. It does not always happen to missionaries, that the judgment of their friends accords with their own resolves, to leave all for Christ's sake and the Gospel's. In regard to Margaret Bayne, however, the step which she determined to take had, as far as is known, the unanimous and strong approbation of those who esteemed and loved her. Their congratulations on the prospects before her equalled in sincerity and affection the regrets which they felt in losing the charm of her society, and the immediate influence of her friendship. From letters before me, I make a 100 MEMOIR OF few quotations, with the view of showing both the source of much eventual consolation, and the estimate which those who best knew her had formed of her qualifications for engaging in the missionary work. — " You go not a warfare on your own charges," writes an early correspondent, " you have chosen well, my dearest earthly friend. 0 it is a glorious enterprise ! Who would not count the loss of all earthly things as gain in such a cause? To be instrumental, even in the most humble way, in advancing the Redeemer's kingdom on earth, is indeed a high destiny. How light seems every sacrifice, for His sake who offered his life a sacrifice for us ; to be the instrument in his hand of turning one benighted soul from darkness unto life, and from the power of Satan to the kingdom of God's dear Son. How exquisite the prospect ! Before such a hope, every difficulty will vanish, every regret be swallowed up. It is God's own cause. He hath prospered it, and will prosper it, for all his promises are, in Christ, yea and amen. However arduous your duties, their performance will bring with them that peace which the world knows not of, and your labour shall not be in vain in the Lord. . . . Could I have chosen a destiny for you, it would have been this, the most exalted to which a child of Adam can be called. I know no one so fitted for the fulfilment of all its duties as my earliest and best friend." . . . . " What shall I say," writes another, " to my dearest M. in her present deeply interesting cir- cumstances. I am constrained to say merely. The finger of the Lord is here." " What a high calling," writes a third, " is yours; what an honour to be commissioned to speak of Jesus, to go abroad with the glad tidings of salvation, to proclaim the good news ! Whenever I pray for the extension of the Redeemer's kingdom, I will think of your husband and you. ... I feel that God has been preparing you for this important event of your life, by the clear views of the Gospel method of salvation, of a sinner's acceptance with God in Christ, which you have enjoyed in no common degree." " I bless God," says a fourth, " that he hath touched your heart with celestial fire, and animated it with that heavenly love, which has constrained you to leave all for his sake and the Gospel's." " You have the approbation," wrote another, " of all your and your father's Mends." " It is just the path," MRS WILSON. 101 said the excellent Mr Macgilvray, in speaking of her going to India, " in which I would like to see your father's daughter tread," " You are devoting yourself to a cause," wrote another, " for which you are, of all I ever knew, best qualified ; and 0 may He who has given you the desire to serve Him, support you under every difficulty." Our marriage was celebrated on Tuesday, the 12th of August 1828. The late Kev. Dr Andrew Thomson officiated on the solemn occasion. Our sojourn in Scotland thereafter was but short. It was at- tended, however, with the strongest agitation, both joyous and mournful. Never can I forget the sublime interest with which we gazed, as we believed, for the last time, on much of the grand- est and most beautiful of its scenery, and the peculiar emotions with which we bade a long adieu to our dearest friends. Our circumstances awoke the strongest sympathy of all our acquaint- ances, including many of the supporters of the Missionary So- ciety; and, I doubt not, we were aided by their prayers, while we felt cheered by their benedictions. Mrs Wilson was particu- larly gratified by the respect and kindness which we received in my own native district, from those whose acquaintance she had only lately made ; and, by the deep Christian feeling which was excited, when, from the pulpit from which I had first heard the words of eternal life most faithfully proclaimed, I delivered my farewell discourse. At the valedictory address delivered to me in Edinburgh, on the part of the Missionary Society, by one of the Secretaries, and a long-tried and zealous friend of the propa- gation of the Gospel in every clime under heaven,* her intense feeling prevented her fi-om being present. She was mightily supported, however, as the hour of her departure drew near, and rejoiced that those who regarded her with the most tender and constant affection, much as they might regret their personal loss, could commit her with confidence to the guidance and protection of Him, who hath declared, that " He that findeth his life shall lose it; and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it ;" and whose blessed promise is, " Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." * The late Rev. Dr David Dickson. 102 MEMOIR OF CHAPTER V. DEPARTURE FOR LONDON— LETTERS — EMBARKATION AT PORTSMOUTH — VOYAGE TO THE CAPE OF GOOD HOPE— CAPE TOWN — GROENEKLOOF — PASSAGE OF THE CAPE — TRIALS ON BOARD SHIP — PRIVATE JOURNAL — COAST OF CEYLON, AND OF MALABAR — ARRIVAL IN BOMBAY. On the morning of the 30th of August 1828, we embarked at Newhaven for London. We had been attended to the shore by the Secretaries of the Missionary Society, and a considerable number of other friends, whose presence was a pledge to us that intercessions would continue to be made in our behalf before that mercy-seat, which is not addressed in vain. Mrs Wilson's brother, one of her sisters, and another friend, were our compa- nions to London. The following extracts of letters, written after our arrival in that city, reveal the Christian tenderness of feeling with which the subject of this Memoir quitted her native land. « London, M Sept. 1828. " It is impossible for me to describe my feelings in parting with you, my beloved, my dearest sisters, or that deathlike cessa- tion of feeling which ensued, when my heart told me that I was severed from you, never perhaps to meet again in this world. But, instead of dwelling upon this, or of awakening in your minds pangs which, I trust, have, by this time, passed away, I would endeavour to call your minds to the glorious realities of that state where there is no more sorrow, and where God himself shall wipe away all tears from our eyes. . . . Till we turn to the blessed Gos- pel, indeed, all is midnight darkness ; but, 0, how divine and transporting are those objects which it holds out to our view, — the scenes, surpassing fable, which it unfolds to us, — and the glo- rious hope which it warrants us to entertain. To these hopes our minds should ofttimes be directed ; and as the character of God, MRS WILSON. 103 and the mysteries of redemption, are manifested, and strikingly- illustrated in the realities which they bring to view, there is per- haps nothing more fitted to reconcile us to the changes of time, or to prepare us for the blessedness of heaven, than the frequent contemplation of them. It seems s.trange that merely temporal events should move us, professing, as we do, to be heirs of an eternal inheritance. Our home is in heaven ; and till we realize this fact, and act from its abiding impression, we cannot exhibit in our conduct the character and principles of those who live as strangers and pilgrims on the earth, looking for another country, even a heavenly. How little of this spirit I, as an individual, possess, is daily revealed in the little willingness I have to take up my cross and follow Christ. With such demonstrations of the love of Christ before us, — with a knowledge of all that he did and suffered for sinners, — can we esteem any sacrifice we make for his service and kingdom too great 1 0, if we are united in Him, we shall meet, never again to know the pangs of separa- tion ! My beloved sisters, I cannot say what I feel when my thoughts turn towards you, and what I have written forms a strange contrast with the tumultuous feelings of my mind. To describe it, is impossible. The ocean in a storm, — the heavens red with lightning, or dark with lowering clouds, cannot represent it, but may give you some idea of its nature. " The day on which we parted from you was dark, and a thick haze veiled from our view the objects upon which I felt I should have had a melancholy pleasure in gazing. That splendid city of Edinburgh, which has risen much in my estimation now that we have seen the huge and smoky city of London, quickly dis- appeared from our sight. Arthur's Seat became like a dark cloud upon the horizon, and the waste of waters before us, bounded by a desolate shore, was now all that reminded me of beloved Scotland. How often, during the melancholy Sabbath, did Comely Bank, with its beloved inmates, rise to my thoughts. There were here no traces of the holy solemnities which we had enjoyed ; and several times, when I raised my head from the pillow, unconscious where I was, I expected to see you all around me. On Monday morning, we were able to appear on deck ; and, though my heart still ached dreadfully, the newness and variety of the scene in- 104 MEMOIR OF terested me not a little. We were all delighted with the scenery on the Thames, — its beauty, richness, and novelty, pleased us ; while the busy scenes, ever and anon presenting themselves to our view, when sailing along, gave a sort of impulse to the feel- ings, which, though not to be compared with the romance excited by our Scottish scenery, had certainly the effect of rousing the mind to some activity. . . . Yours, &c. M. W." « London, 1th Sept. 1828. " This, our last day in London, is now over, and I would de- vote a few moments of the evening, consecrated as it should be, to sacred purposes, in writing to you, my dear and beloved sisters. We leave London at eight o'clock to-morrow morning for Ports- mouth ; and, on Tuesday morning, we shall in all probability embark for India. It were vain, even if it were possible, to give utterance to my thoughts at this moment. Much as I felt the pang of separation after parting with you, I did not fully realize its agony, till now that the time is approaching when we must bid adieu to the shores of Britain. 0 my sisters, you are all very dear to me ! A thousand scenes that had passed away, rise anew to my remembrance; and, when I think of never again seeing you, never again listening to the accents of your voice, I would sink into despair, were I not strengthened by an unseen energy, and by the hope of a blessed reunion. 0, my beloved sisters, live nearer to Christ than you have hitherto done ; make the Eternal God your refuge, and give reality to your convictions by repairing to him amid every difficulty, and by reposing upon his Almighty strength. Do not live as if this earth were your dwelling-place, but remembering that your home is in heaven, act as becometh those who look forward to its glories. " I feel utterly unable to write any more, so unwell and ex- hausted am I. We have gone a great deal about, viewing the wonders ofthis modern Babylon; and, though we were delighted and astonished with its numerous wonders, the very variety of impressions fatigues and enervates the mind. Then, how transi- tory are its glories, however great, and how do they demonstrate the weakness, as well as the power of man — in comparison with those of the kingdom to which we look forward, the splendour of which will eclipse all meaner things, while its foundation MRS WILSON. 105 standeth for ever sure. That we may all meet in heaven, and dwell in eternal harmony with God and his holy angels, is my hope, as it also is my most earnest prayer for you. Adieu, my beloved, my ever dear sisters. May the God of Jacob strengthen you, and be your portion for ever. Your fondly attached sister. — Margaret." On the 8th of September, we separated from the dear female friends who had accompanied us to London ; and, along with our brother, reached Portsmouth on the evening of the same day. At this place, where we experienced much attention from Mr J. C — k, a most zealous supporter of the missionary cause, the two following letters to her sisters were written before we set sail for India. " Portsmouth, lOth Sept. 1828. ..." My feelings are confused, and very varied, so that I cannot express them. Sometimes I can pour them out in prayer to my Father who is in heaven ; and, though I cannot do this at all times, still it is consoling to know that He heareth the groaning of the prisoner, and that the cry of the captive ascendeth to his throne. At this throne, our spirits will, I trust, ofttimes meet. . . " John goes to London in the ten o'clock coach, and will give you an account of our journey hither, with all other details that may interest you Oh, how great and exceeding precious are those promises of Christ bequeathed to his disciples, and fitted to the condition and circumstances of those who need peculiar sup- port ! ' God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in time of trouble.' We have good cause to sing of mercy, and in the language of faith to say, * Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.' Our hearts are slow to adopt this language; but it is because we view the procedure of God through another medium than his own testimony, and the designs which he has revealed concerning his people. The apostles, who left all and followed Christ, were not actuated by narrow and partial views of his king- dom and glory such as ours, when we are cast down and dejected at the thought of privations and difficulties. My heart clings mth too much eagerness to time and its concerns. I sometimes feel as if it were only in appearance that I had renounced the world. 0 that a Saviour's love, and the redemption of that world 106 MEMOIR OF for whom he gave himself unto the death, would fill and occupy my soul ! " Our travelling companions in the coach were two ladies, — one of them an Englishwoman, with apparently few ideas, and no afiections except such as she lavished on her lap-dog. She sometimes caressed, sometimes scolded it, and seemed to have no hesitation, in order to procure its comfort, to annoy and harass her companions. The other lady was a foreigner, extremely in- teresting in her appearance and manners. We soon discovered that she was to he our fellow-passenger at sea. She is wife to the Lutheran clergyman, who has heen for some years at the Cape. They have been in Germany, and are now on their way back. . . . She seems disposed to be on good terms with us. She has travelled a great deal during the last eighteen months, and speaks English and French with the greatest fluency. " We went on board yesterday, and were, upon the whole, pleased with the accommodation. The only person among the sailors who interested us was an Indo-Portuguese, who has made several voyages in vessels sailing from Bombay. He seems to have some ideas of the Christian religion, and his manner of ex- pressing them, with the accompanying attitudes and gestures, is highly striking. He will probably be our attendant, so of poor Joseph you may yet hear from us I mention these things to amuse you I am compelled to finish this scrawl. My be- loved, my dearest A., who has been the companion of my earliest joys, and who has so often soothed the sorrow of my heart, am I indeed separated from you 1 Is it possible that I shall never again see you, or only after long and painful years of absence shall have brought many changes in the circle that we love 1 I would hush these sorrows, not by overlooking them, — that is im- possible,— but by looking forward with earnest longings to that blessed state where sorrow and separation are unknown. M. W." « Spithead, \Zth Sept. 1828. " My Beloved Sisters, — Having received peremptory orders to be on board our ship early on Thursday morning, we obeyed; and here we are ever since, lying at anchor, and uncertain when propitious gales may enable us to set sail. The sea was extremely boisterous on our crossing from Portsmouth to the vessel; the MRS WILSON. 107 winds were howling, and every now and then tremendous waves dashing over our heads. Mr Wilson soon became sick, and left me to enjoy in silence the sublimity of the scene. Could I, at such a moment, have enjoyed one aspect of nature more than another, the war of the elements, and the terrible majesty of the clouds, as they hovered portentously over our heads or followed each other through the angry sky, would have had a kindling effect upon my feelings, or at any rate been more in unison with them than the beauties of a less boisterous scene. After being tossed about for some time, Mr Wilson's sickness becoming every moment greater, we at length reached our vessel We had every reason to mark the loving-kindness, as well as the power and majesty of that God who ruleth in the whirlwind and in the storm, preserving us amid the perils of the deep. May his mercy in this instance be a pledge of still greater blessings; and, whether we view him in the glories of his majesty, or in those silent but ceaseless movements of his power which are continually exhibited, may we bear in remembrance, that he is the same in his being and essence, worthy of our adoration, our gratitude, and our love. It is delightful to think, that in the empire of nature, of grace, and of providence, there is but one ruler, and that this ruler is our God. The foundations of his government, as well as of his character, are from everlasting. The events that are taking place around us do but fulfil his pleasure ; the treasuries of the winds are his ; he holds them in the hollow of his hand. When the waves roar, he stilleth them ; and he it is who hath set to the sea its decree which it cannot pass. — ' They who go down to the sea in ships do indeed see the wonders of the Lord.' The feeling of constant dependence that we should at all times cherish, ought to be brought into more lively exercise when placed in situations of peril and exposed to death. " It consoles us to think that you, my beloved sisters, are plead- ing for us at the throne of grace, and that as often as you make known your sorrows at the footstool of the Divine Majesty, we, the wanderers on a stormy sea, are not forgotten. How much of our present comfort may be ascribed to the answer that God has given to your prayers, we know not ; but it is assuredly a de- lightful and heart-cheering thought, that these prayers will in 108 MEMOIR OF time be answered, and that they are now a bond of common sym- pathy between us and Christ. The scene of our parting will never, never be forgotten by me. I wished to clasp you again and again to my embrace — but, oh how precious was it for me to know, that the arms of my Saviour are around you — that he leads you through the unseen difficulties of your path — and that though your way may be through an untrodden wilderness, his shield will be your protection, and his glory will pass before you to enlighten you upon your way. " The scene around us has nothing that reminds me oihome; yet Comely Bank, and its beloved inmates, are constantly and vividly present to my mind. I feel thankful for that power which can call you up, one by one, before me ; and, as I picture to my- self your various occupations, I find that it is space only which separates us, for in heart and affection we can never be divided. To John you are as dear as to me, and, at evening and morning, in our little cabin, he never fails to make mention of you in his prayers. How delightful these hours have been to us, since coming on board the vessel, it is impossible for me to express ; nor can you ever know, till, severed from early and much loved friends, you find that there is no place where they can meet, but that throne where God is seated, and where he lends his ear to our common wants. " Every attention is paid us by the men on board — but to none of them are we more indebted than to Joseph, whose services are truly valuable. His broken sentences made us laugh when al- most nothing else could have done so He is anxious to read English; and I have undertaken to be his teacher during the voyage. " My sickness was of short continuance. Toward evening we were both better, and were able to talk with gratitude and com- fort of the way in which our heavenly Father has led us, and of the glorious work to which we have devoted our lives. I feel every day new reason to bless him for my union with one so de- voted in spirit and in affection to his Master's service, and so eminently fitted to promote my happiness and improvement Our cabin is well aired and very commodious. We have got a handsome rosewood sofa, which folds down and makes a com- MRS WILSON. 109 fortable couch, two chairs, a small chest of drawers, and a water- stand, which answers the double purpose of washing and writing. From the roof there is suspended a glass lamp, in which we burn wax candles. Its motion, which indicates pretty accurately that of the vessel, and the unsteady flickering light which it throws downward upon us, have something quite romantic. With this light we read ; and, except the ripple of the waters, or the sound of voices from above, we have had little in the evenings to disturb us. From the windows of our cabin we look out on the dark blue waters of the deep, and at night, the stars, gleaming from amid the clouds, shed their bright beams upon us. I mention these things, little as they appear, that my beloved sisters may form a correct idea of our situation, and be enabled to follow us in imagination through the great deep " Saturday was a better day than the two preceding. The sun shed his radiance upon the waters, and we had a beautiful view of the Isle of Wight with its woods and banks ; while the num- ber of vessels lying at anchor, and Portsmouth, with its crowded buildings, looked also very pleasing. We dined on deck, and were much pleased with the order, regularity, and attention to comfort. As the captain and several of the passengers had not yet come on board, the first mate was master of ceremonies, and did the honours of the table tolerably well. The second mate is a Dane, and interested us very much. He speaks English in broken sentences; but, if we may judge from his countenance, he is by no means destitute of feeling and intellect. Mr Kauffinan, the Lutheran clergyman, is well informed; and, what is still better, seems to have more accurate ideas of Christianity than the Germans generally possess. He spoke of their systems of morality not being built upon the proper foundation of divine truth. . . . " We spent most of this evening on deck The sailors keep Saturday night as a sort of jubilee, and were singing songs about home, truly touching, rude as were the strains in which they were sung. We are Extremely anxious to be useful during the voyage. 0 that the great God of heaven and of earth, who seeth the hearts of men, and with whom is the knowledge of their ways, would direct us to such means as he will effectually bless ! We go on a glorious embassy, but we must not now be idle, F 110 MEMOIR OF when opportunities are afforded us of declaring the wonders of the Cross. " 14:th September. — This is the Sabbath-day, and even here there is much to hallow it. The glorious events which it com- memorates should ever be uppermost in our minds ; and, though there be no public sanctuary where we assemble in communion with the saints, our cabin and our hearts may become a sanctuary for the divine presence. All is confusion and bustle on board. We have already fired two guns, and have sailed about six miles from Spithead. The pilot is to take our letters on shore. My beloved, my ever dear sisters, I must now bid you adieu May the eternal God be your portion, and under you may he stretch his everlasting arms. — Yours in much love, Margaret." In the circumstances now related, we left the shores of Eng- land. The first part of our voyage was such as seafaring persons would reckon on the whole pleasant. To us, however, it was not without its trials. We had not weighed anchor above two hours, when I fell into a state of indisposition under which I laboured more or less during the whole voyage. The sympathy, and kind- ness, and assistance of a partner were much needed by me; and they were extended with an affection and constancy, which I shall not attempt to characterise. I enjoyed them, not merely in reference to wants superinduced by my affliction, but in all my spiritual exercises, and engagements in study. Mrs Wilson, it may be mentioned, now commenced the study of Hebrew, in which she made rapid progress. On the 14th October, we enjoyed the luxury of writing a few hurried lines to our friends, our affection for whom became more tender the farther we were removed. They may be here intro- duced. " A messenger," Mrs Wilson writes, " has been this moment sent to our cabin, to inform us that a vessel homeward- bound is within sight. My heart leaps with joy at the opportu- nity of addressing, fi:om the boundless solitude of waters, those most dear to us ; and yet, when I think of our situation, distant thousands of miles from the land of our nativity, and in profound ignorance of all that has taken or that may take place, ere this letter reaches you, my feelings become strangely chequered, and emotions hitherto unknown to me take their place in my mind. MRS WILSON. Ill The remembrance of scenes now gone for ever is associated with the deepest tenderness." " Margaret," was my addition, " re- quests me to begin at this place, as the vessel is close upon us. We are at present four degrees north of the line. You will, con- sequently, be aware that our passage hitherto has been prosper- ous. The fact is, that the winds have been generally favourable ; and, with the exception of a few squalls, pleasant. Notwith- standing these circumstances, I have been very sick during most of our progress. My beloved partner, however, I have reason to thank God, has enjoyed good health on the whole, and has mi- nistered much to my comfort. She is occasionally a good deal oppressed with the heat, which is said to be greater at present in these latitudes than in India. Many interesting objects have at- tracted our attention since we came on board, but these time does not permit us to describe We enjoy important means of usefulness. I now preach regularly (when worship is permitted) — converse with the sailors — distribute tracts — lend books — teach the young officers. Margaret, too, is very useful. Her pupil Joseph is making much progress. Our shipmates are of different characters, some of them possessing more, some less, degrees of refinement. Some of them are intellectual and well informed, but of most, I fear it may be said, they know little of true godliness, and are by no means its friends." . . . The latter part of this observation was, alas ! too soon verified in our pain- ful experience. " In our voyage," from this date, " to the Cape," wrote Mrs Wilson, " there were many circumstances which demand loud- ly our gratitude to God. One of these was the abatement of Mr W.'s sickness, and another, the opportunities of usefulness among the sailors and young officers. We felt the heat extremely on approaching the line; and the languor accompanying it was greater than I had anticipated. The smoothness, and beautiful colouring in the waters of the ocean, were very remarkable in these latitudes. We had one or two magnificent sunsets, but it is utterly impossible to give any idea of their brilliancy, or of the radiance and variety of the clouds : they rivalled, I may say far surpassed, Byron's description of the sun setting along Morea's height : 112 MEMOIR OF ' Not as in Northern climes, obscurely bright. But one unclouded blaze of living light.' * The rarefaction of the atmosphere, which gave rise to a new and most beautiful aspect of the heavens ; the declination of some of the northern constellations ; with the appearance of the southern ones, constantly reminded us that we were in the Torrid Zone. We were once or twice alarmed by the appearance of piratical vessels. The captain ordered the large guns to be load- ed, while muskets, swords, and pistols, were all in readiness for an attack. I doubt not that one of these vessels was what we took her for; but we looked so formidable, that she kept at a distance. In passing the line, on the 20th October, we observed as usual all the ceremonies of ' Neptune.' The god and goddess of the sea, fantastically attired, approached the captain, and with their suite, who were still more fancifully dressed, did him gene- ral obeisance. Some of the sailors in masks, with the word Con- stable, inscribed in tremendous letters on their breast-plates, then came forward to Mr W. They conducted him in silence to the monarch, who, having inquired his name and destination, dismissed him in great pomp, after conferring upon him ' the liberty of the seas.' The poor cadets shared a much harder fate, for, after being introduced in a similar manner to the king of the waters, they were shaved most rudely with tar, and then plunged into water till they were almost drowned, t * In my journal, of date the 30th October, there is the following entry: — The only objects at sea which, in their appearance, present a variety, which is very agreeable, are the clouds. This evening, as the sun was setting, they were truly glorious. I cannot well describe the impression which they produced on my mind. " They seemed like chariots of saints, By fiery coursers drawn, as brightly hued, As if the glorious, bushy, golden locks Of thousand cherubim had been shorn off, And on the temples himg of morn and eve." — Pollok. While I contemplated them, the passages, such as Rev. i. 7, which describe the coming of Christ, seem to be possessed of a degree of sublimity which I had never before realized. + The folly and absurdity of the ceremonies above alluded to, I have seldom seen surpassed among the heathen. Comparatively few ships now observe them. MRS WILSON. 113 " Flying fishes were seen in great multitudes, alongside our vessel. Their wings are beautiful when seen in the sunbeam ; and their motions in the water are quite attractive. We caught a shark. A large whale was also seen, but, not being on deck at the time, I missed seeing it. We saw a great many land birds, during the greater part of our voyage. Two swallows found a place in our cabin to rest their weary wing; but, like many who pursue happiness, they had no sooner found a fancied resting-place, than they sank lifeless through fatigue. Though they did not come to us with the olive-branch, yet their appear- ance strikingly reminded us of the dove in Noah's ark, which gave assurance to the inmates that the dry land was near. " . . . . Before reaching the Cape, we had, as usual, a good deal of wind and very heavy seas. The rolling and pitching of the vessel were extremely disagreeable. At length birds hovering around the ship indicated our approach to land ; and it was with feelings of no common interest that we anticipated a little respite from the wearisomeness and fatigues of the ocean. On endea- vouring, however, about eight o'clock on the night of Wednes- day, 23d Nov., to enter Table Bay, we were prevented by a strong south-easter, which blew tremendously all night. We were not aware of the peril which then awaited us, for, on again attempting it on the morning, our vessel lost her jib-sail, and was in danger of being dashed to pieces against the rocks. "We were drifted several miles past the place in the Bay where we had intended to anchor. We struck once slightly against a sand-bank, and, before our course could be arrested, we were only in four fathoms of water. We had some difficulty in reach- ing Cape Town in a boat; but when we found ourselves on land, our hearts rejoiced. Though we were surrounded by strange countenances, and every circumstance reminded us that we were in a country far distant from our beloved Scotland, we had many reasons to lift our souls in devout acknowledgments to Him who had given the winds and waves charge concerning us, and safely borne our bark over the billows of the deep." Of our residence at Cape Town the following letter communi- cates the most important particulars : — 114 MEMOIR OF « Cape Town, 28th Nov. 1828. " From this far distant land, I now write to my beloved sisters and brother. I cannot express my feelings, nor will you be able to form an estimate of them, unless you were transported to some clime, where every thing in the aspect of nature, and in the cir- cumstances of the human beings who surround you, seemed, in many respects, dissimilar from that which association and custom had rendered familiar to you. After a voyage across the ocean, it is with feelings of no common interest that you descry land stretching far in the distance; but, on nearing it, when you dis- cern clearly the blue mountains, upon which the sun is throwing the splendour of his beams, and perceive the traces of life and luxuriant vegetation, the feeling almost amounts to rapture. Material objects, though bearing a faint resemblance to those we have been accustomed to behold, have, in some circumstances, the power of imparting a vividness to our associations, which simple memory fails to do, however strong may be her colouring, and however true the lines which she draws. On viewing Table Mountain, and the Lion's Head, so called from their peculiar form, — the one resembling, in its length and the flatness of its surface, a dining-table, and the other, a part of the majestic ani- mal, when he stands upright as for combat, — I felt for a time as if I were again among the mountains of my native land. But the idea vanished, when, on passing through the streets of the town, we were met by people of every colour and from many distant climes. Scotia's hills and dales never* before seemed so dear to memory, and, when my heart turned to you and the en- deared objects of our mutual regard, I had a sickness of soul, similar to that which the poor Swiss, and some of the men of our own country, have experienced, when, in the fairest climes, and amid the richest productions of nature, they could feel no joy, because of the longings which they had for home. " After the monotony of the voyage, and, what was worse, the bad treatment which we met with from , and some of our fellow-passengers, on board the vessel, our sojourn here has been attended with no common excitement and interest. The atten- tions we have met with are peculiarly valuable, as we came here destitute of recommendations, and without a single letter of in- MRS WILSON. 115 troduction.* Our intercourse with Cliristian friends is doubly delightful to us after being doomed for many weeks to an almost entire deprivation of it. " Cape Town contains a population of 20,000, not including the military. There are about 2696 free blacks, 853 prize negroes, and 6951 slaves ;t the rest of the population are Dutch, English, and a few Germans and French. The town is remark- ably regular, and as the Dutch enacted a law requiring them to be whitewashed every year, the houses present an appearance of dazzling whiteness, such as I had never before seen. They are in general lofty, and were it not for so many Negroes, Mozam- biques, Malays, &c. &c., you might almost fancy yourself in a town in Europe. There are several churches, and a handsome library. The government gardens are beautiful, and there is a fashionable parade, where not only officers, but people of all de- scriptions, may be seen loitering. We got lodgings with a Mrs Rusche, who was recommended to us by the Kauffinans, and find ourselves extremely comfortable. There are two inmates with us, both Englishmen, one of them the son of the Eev. Mr Gisborne, and himself an author. He possesses very extensive general information. Mrs R. has no slaves of her own, but there are several prize negroes in her house, who act in the capacity of servants. One of these was a princess in her own country. She wears around her wrist a double ring of silver, and looks very melancholy when she is desired to work. " We were not long of being kindly visited by Dr Adamson, the minister of the Scotch church ; and to him we are indebted for much that has made our sojourn agreeable. He introduced us to some of his friends, from whom also we have met with the greatest attention. He is a person of no ordinary talent, and decidedly evangelical in his sentiments, and, besides, learned in some of the sciences. The interest he takes in missionary opera- tions, and his patronage of every thing which has the dispensa- * When our passage was taken, it was not known that the ship was to touch at the Cape. f The Heathen and Mahommadan population of Cape Town (there are now no slaves) amounts, I believe, to about 1 1,000. 116 MEMOIR OF tion of good for its object, have pleased us mucla. He introduced us to Dr Abercrombie, a Scotchman, who has been for many years an able and successful medical practitioner at the Cape, — and who has greatly promoted the interests of morality and religion by his zealous endeavours We dined with him on Saturday last. In the afternoon, he drove us to Constantia, a place as much celebrated for the beauty of its vineyards, as for the rich flavour of its wines. We walked between hedgerows of myrtle, with many beautiful plants growing at our feet. The vines are very luxuriant, and besides the orange, the palm-tree, the fig, &c., we saw many varieties of trees, and of fruits ripening for the autumn. Constantia is situated at the foot of beautiful hills, some of which are wooded to the summits. It is such a place as poets might choose for their residence " On Sunday, Mr Wilson preached to the congregation of the Scotch church, and to the soldiers of the 72d regiment, stationed here at present. I shall never forget the feelings with which we entered into the courts of the Lord's house in a foreign land, or the emotions with which we joined in its worship. I have often wept when I thought of Zion. Now, I took my harp from the willows, and, instead of saying in the language of unbelief, ' How shall we sing the songs of Zion in a strange land]' I was en- abled to anticipate the time when the Lord's house will be estab- lished upon the top of the mountains, and when the Church's glory will be acknowledged throughout all the earth. You, my dearly beloved sisters and brother, were assembled at the same time, and for the like holy purposes. We think of you at all times, but especially on that day when our hearts join in unison not only with saints below, but with the ransomed of the Lord, who have finished their course of suffering, and entered upon the joy of an eternal Sabbath. How dear you are to Mr Wilson and me at such moments, it is, I think, impossible for you to imagine. We dare not entertain the hope of seeing you all again in this world ; but the prospect of a re-union in heaven, where there shall be no more separation, is fitted to calm our anxieties and to chase away those murmurings which separation naturally induces. Our sojourn here is short, — MRS WILSON. 117 * Though in a foreign land. We are not far from home, And nearer to our Father's house We every moment come.' " On Monday morning, we set out for Groenekloof, one of the Moravian settlements, accompanied by Dr Adamson, and our friend Mr Law. We went in a waggon drawn by eight horses, the only conveyance fitted to traverse a space of country where there is no regular road, and where the sands are in many places very heavy. Groenekloof is about forty miles distant from Cape Town,* and lies through a part of the country little frequented. The country is in some places so flat that it might be deemed uninteresting, were it not for the variety of rich and beautiful plants that every where present themselves. The whole country is, in fact, a botanical garden ; and it is with feelings little short of astonishment that we view the most beautiful plants and shrubs, elsewhere nurtured with care as greenhouse ornaments, springing luxuriantly at our feet. There we saw the locust, the colours of which are fine, with many other insects. Birds with the most beautiful plumage were also seen flying about in differ- ent directions ; one or two were of the larger species, such as the eagle, the albatross, the penguin,