For, gracious Lord, Thou pourest out
Such sweetness from above

My soul is fain to conquer doubt,
And soar to heights of love.

But in my weakness, just as men
Some precious jewel hide,

I hide from all how much I love
To linger at Thy side.

A beggar I, and Thou the King :
And in my foolish fear

It almost seems the better thing
To follow not too near.

For who-but Thou-could under

stand

The dearness and delight

Of knowing that Thou hold'st my hand
And keep'st me in Thy sight?

To Thee, O Lord, and but to Thee,
Let me my love confess,
And wait till Thou shalt, perfect me
In Thy full righteousness.

And yet I hear Thy voice, which says,
'Ay, 'tis by touch I cure: '

Come, touch My robe in all men's eyes,
And I will make thee pure.'

Some wondrous power divides the
crowd

That covered late the ground,
A way is made: I cry aloud-

BY THE AUTHOR OF

CRABTREE-FOLD,' ETC.

II.-DANIEL MACMILLAN, BOOKSELLER AND PUBLISHER.

AT

T the end of last century a certain Malcolm Macmillan was 'tacksman' (i.e., the man who took the lease) of a small farm -little more than a croft-near Loch Rawza, on the north-west side of the beautiful Island of Arran. An elder of the Established Church, a lover of old ways, and stern enough at times, he was always found generous to poverty and sickness. He was a sort of headman in the parish, and when the smaller cottars came to buy their meal of him, he would often, in case of need, increase the measure; but greatly disliked that any notice should be taken of the neighbourly deed.

This man-whose family had crossed from Argyleshire to Arran two or three generations earlier-was the grandfather of the two brothers who founded the London publishing house of Macmillan, their mother being the daughter of another peasant farmer and Church elder on the island.

In 1816, Daniel's father, the son of Elder Malcolm, finding that his small farm, howsoever patiently and well cultivated, would scarcely provide food for his large family, removed to the little town of Irvine, on the mainland, where he died seven years after, when Daniel, the tenth child-altogether there were twelve born-was only ten years old. The woman whose laborious life was henceforth to be more laborious still, if that were possible, was equal to the severe demands of her lot. Here is her portrait, as sketched years afterwards by the hand of Daniel:

'Of my mother I can speak what I do know. I know her as well as ever a son knew a parent, and my persuasion is that she is the most perfect lady in all Scotland. With so little knowledge derived from books, with so very little intercourse with the higher ranks of society, with so little care or thought on what is most pleasing in external conduct, was there ever a lady who so instinctively, so naturally, did what was right, acted with so much propriety in all cases? She has such high and noble notions, that no one ever heard her say or knew her do a mean thing; no one could ever venture to say an impudent thing to her, or talk scandal in her presence. If any one did so once, it never was repeated: some quietly-spoken, but most bitter and biting saying at once put an end to such garbage. Few appreciated her, but no one could despise her. I think she has one of the finest, I mean the most refined, minds I ever came into contact with; and yet she is far from being deficient in strength-a most strong and deep nature, yet a woman's nature....If ever I saw any one with the same tenderness, strength and calmness, I should immediately fall in love with her.'

Mr. Hughes says of her: "The wife and widow of a poor crofter, doing all household work with her own hand, she yet managed to hold her own with richer neighbours, with whose children hers were on terms of intimacy.'

This would be easy to do in an unsophisticated little Scotch town, especially at that period, when all the children in the place, gentle and simple, were taught together in the common school. Besides, we must remember that Malcolm, the eldest son, was schoolmaster in the place, and would take rank accordingly. Then her personal character evidently impressed itself upon her neighbours. She scandalized some of them by saying that such of them as had the good fortune to reach heaven would likely have to put up with the company of many Romanists;' and her 'remarkable openness of mind would express itself in such a condemnation of bigotry or intolerance as this: “Puir body! he has nae room in him! "one of the 'biting' words referred to by Daniel.

We are further told that she had a fine voice and ear, and sang with a pathos which made the promise of a song from her hymn, psalm or ballad- a great reward.

'From her I think we take any mental superiority we may have,' said Daniel. 'I am glad to have some of the Celt in my nature; but I am glad that the Teuton stands uppermost that my mother is a Teuton.'

The distinctive qualities of Celt and Teuton were indeed plainly traceable in this son. He had strong convictions of duty and faith

fulness, a marked love of order and precision, and along with these a sensitive, sympathetic mind, and no small measure of that wellbalanced enthusiasm that beats strongly and steadily. In Daniel Macmillan it was the sympathetic love of noble and true thought wherever he believed himself to have found it, and the steadfast effort to bring such thought home to the minds of other men. He was born to be a publisher.

In those early days in Irvine, however, the publishing business was not even dreamt of. Young Malcolm, the eldest of the family, and, as we have seen, master of a school in the town, was putting his salary into the family purse, and helping his mother in other ways to get the younger children equipped for life's battle. Teachers' stipends were often small matters at that period in Scotland, yet whatever it may have come to, Malcolm's contribution was evidently the chief mainstay for some time. Even Scotch frugality and thrift could not provide a college education for Daniel: he must learn a trade, as his brothers did before him, and push his way afterwards, as they had, by his own efforts. So, in January, 1824, his brother Malcolm, engaging as 'cautioner' for him, the boy of eleven was bound apprentice to Maxwell Dick, bookseller and bookbinder in Irvine, for the munificent wage of 1s. 6d. a week for the first year, and a rise of 18. a week during the remaining six years. Truly, the family purse must have been very light indeed if this filled up much of a corner; and oatmeal and homespun had need be cheap.

At that time the impetuous, vehement temper which he derived from his Highland forebears had not been altogether brought under control, and one instance of it is significant. Master and apprentice mutually respected each other, and the bond was agreeable to both, but one day some money went a-missing in the shop; the master, in his annoyance, hastily accused the apprentice, and Daniel, with angry vehemence, resented the charge. The master, still further annoyed by what he considered disrespect, struck the boy, whereupon his hitherto obedient and respectful apprentice, blazing into open revolt, caught up the day-book and hurled it at the head of his accuser, seized his cap from the peg on which it hung, and disappeared. That evening he did not go home at the usual time. Night came on, he was still absent, and his mother was in great alarm about him, when Mr. Dick appeared with his story. By this time he felt that he had acted without evidence; and no doubt he had his own share of uneasiness. When they heard news of Daniel we are not told; but the fact was that he had started at once for Saltcoats, a distance of six miles, whence he had contrived to obtain a gratuitous passage in a fishing smack to Arran; where lived a favourite aunt, McKay, wife of an Independent

Minister in Glen Sannox. From this retreat explanations went back to the anxious circle at Irvine; and finally, after apology on both sides, the old relation was re-established, 'to subsist firmly and with growing confidence to the end.' About 1829 Mr. Dick went to London to take out a patent, leaving his affairs almost entirely in the hands of Daniel, who proved himself to have powers of business very rare in a boy of fifteen or sixteen.

In February, 1831, Maxwell Dick testifies by an endorsement on the indentures that 'the said Daniel has served me with diligence, honesty, and sobriety, and it is with the utmost confidence I can recommend him as possessing these qualities in a very high degree.'

So ended the first stage of life, and with it the youth's residence at home. From Irvine he went to Stirling, where his brother Malcolm was now a Baptist Minister. But this did not last long. Daniel's ardent, ambitious mind could not confine itself to the dull routine of the Stirling situation without fretting. He felt that he was losing time, and presently worried himself into a brain-fever. Recovering from this, he took his own way, and set off to a place in Glasgow, under Mr. Atkinson, a well-known man, centre of a considerable literary circle, editor of a local periodical called the Chameleon, and a leader in the Reform agitation, then at its height. Here Daniel found a career that satisfied him. His employer, absorbed in many thoughts, was glad to be set free from the details of trade; and soon found that his new assistant, although not yet nineteen, could be trusted. Mr. Atkinson was also burdened with ill-health, and promised young Macmillan that if he found he could safely leave the business to him in order that he himself might go abroad for a time, he would make him a partner.

This fired the brain of the lad. He was not robust himself: he was harassed by the mental struggles incident to one of his temperament and age; he was employed in the shop from seven a.m. to nine p.m., sometimes to ten or eleven, or even twelve on occasions. Yet in order to become acquainted with literature, he set himself to read 'all the weekly, monthly, or quarterly periodicals of any mark:'a task which often kept him out of bed until three or four o'clock in the morning. Of course his health suffered. The loving mother in Irvine heard that her boy was looking very ill, and wrote to him insisting that he should throw up his situation and come home. Brother Malcolm writes from Stirling some wise, plain words of warning about over-haste and ambition, to which the younger brother replies in a long and emphatic letter. Mr. Atkinson went to London for a month, leaving the business entirely in Daniel's charge, and on his return, as Macmillan afterwards tells his wife: 'he expressed himself well

pleased, and made me a handsome present. A fortune seemed glittering before me. I was full of hope. I strove with all my might against the weakness of my body. It was no use, I could bear up no longer. My mother came to Glasgow and would not go home without me...I went home, and was blistered and all the rest. ..I then went to Arran for a month, and that quite restored me.'

Comparatively, he might feel quite restored, but he never had a sound body again, and before long he found that the career he coveted, if permitted to him at all in this life, could only be achieved under very trying conditions. 'Of all men I have known,' says Mr. Hughes, he was the one who lived most constantly and consciously eye to eye with death. He became aware when quite a young man that at any time, in a few hours, some carelessness—a chill, wet feet, an incautious meal-might prove fatal.' It was through a very martyrdom of pain and feebleness, overcome by rare powers of endurance and tenacity of purpose, that the aim of his life was realized at last.

And here is a lesson for many if they would ponder it. Daniel Macmillan's last words to his wife were a touching reference to the 'impetuosity' which he considered his besetting sin. There can be no doubt that he felt how his life here had been shortened, and his usefulness—in one aspect of it, at least-hindered by that youthful eagerness to succeed.

He would have succeeded better, because he would have been here still to serve the good cause, had he been less impatient at first. True, the spirit that urged him on doubtless helped to keep him alive when one of less valour would have sunk; and God can use His servant as well There as Here; and the ambition of Daniel Macmillan was no selfish, personal thing. He felt himself possessed of powers which he would devote to the service of truth. The producing of books was a form of work that kindled his imagination, and in September, 1833, he set sail for London, where he was to share the lodgings of his stanch friend Maclehose-now the Glasgow publisher while he sought employment. His first letter home bears the date of his twentieth birthday.

In five days he has engaged himself to a Mr. Johnson, a Cambridge bookseller, and goes down there, believing that it will be right and good, since it is of God's ordering.

In Cambridge he falls to hard work again, his hours being from 7.30 a.m. to 7 p.m. and later, and the large stock, mostly of classical works, demanding patient study. But he lives in the house with his employers, who are pious, kindly, pleasant folks, and the natural, wholesome life does him good. The religious conflict which distracted his mind ends in the victory of faith. In December, 1833, he