and retiring to wish that any posthumous notice should be taken of her; but had she permitted herself to dream of a pulpit record, she would have said, "Aim to benefit the living, and let but little be said respecting the dead." With this imagined utterance I have studied to comply, in the former part of this discourse; but with such a beauteous and practical illustration before me of the inspired model of sanctified womanhood, I dare not close the instructions of the morning without endeavouring to render them impressive by a reference to the example of one, of whom all who knew her would say that she was indeed "a meek and quiet spirit,"-a full realization of the picture which the Apostle has drawn of the Christian wife.

It is now nearly six years since I was first introduced, by a mutual friend, in my own house, to the deceased. During a large portion of that period she resided under my own roof. I have had opportunities of observing her in a variety of circumstances, both pleasing and painful. I have seen her in bright hours, and in hours of sadness and grief; but now that I shall meet her no more on this side eternity, I bear this remarkable but truthful testimony, that I never saw her angry, nor in the slightest degree even ruffled in temper. She must have been placid and amiable if grace had never touched her heart; but, with a sensitiveness of feeling most delicately attuned, nothing short of the control of religion could have made her what she uniformly was.

Nor did her meekness and gentleness of character stand alone; they were associated with other kindred graces. I never knew her evince an unkind or resentful feeling to a human being. I never heard her speak reproachfully or slightingly of an absent person. I never listened to one single detractive sentence from her lips. When a particular friend of hers was expressing some distress of mind, on account of a most unprovoked misrepresentation of a simple and innocent occurrence, she said, with more than her usual energy, "Do leave the matter with God, He will set it all right." She had no resentment or malevolence in her nature. I have often made a study of her, to see if I could find anything to which I could object; but she was so "blameless" that I knew not where to fix the imputation.

There was, perhaps, something like imperturbableness in her character which one might have been disposed to criticise; but it was allied to so much sweetness and benevolence that it was impossible to censure it.

She had but little to say about her religion, as about other things; but those who lived in the house with her were not

left to doubt how closely and humbly she walked with her God. Hers was an unostentatious, but sleepless, devotion; which lived not on excitements, but rose to heaven like the exhalations of the morning dew.

Her birth, education, and early intercourses, to say nothing of mental tendencies, made her a lady in all her deportment; and some might have mistaken her retirement and diffidence for something like hauteur. No greater misconception of her character could have been formed. She was condescension itself, the very pattern of affableness and humility,-always apprehensive lest in anything she should pre

sume.

But whence proceeded all this loveliness -this "meek and quiet spirit, in the sight of God of great price?"-To grace she ever felt herself to be the debtor, which began to act upon her gentle and loving nature in the days of youth. She was a native of Madras. Her father, a gentleman of great respectability, who raised himself to the highest offices in India, by industry and weight of character, was born and educated at Aberdeen. Her mother was descended, through a European father, from the Indian race. In childhood and early youth, the deceased knew not her Saviour. But subsequently, through the instructions of a pious Clergyman of the English Church, she was brought to deep reflection in reference to her spiritual state. The current of worldly influence and association ran powerfully against the first throbbings of spiritual life, and ofttimes threatened their extinction. But an introduction to Mr. Drew, one of our esteemed Missionaries at Madras, was overruled for great good to her soul. His simple, faithful preaching, connected as it was with his personal counsels and encouragements, became the means of her establishment in the Christian life. I well remember, when she heard of his return to this country, with what a glow of unmingled delight she hailed the prospect of meeting him. Subsequently to her attendance on the ministry of Mr. Drew, she removed, with her first husband, to Penang, and there she met with Mr. and Mrs. Davies, now of Richmond, to whom she expressed her sincere and heartfelt obligations for much Christian kindness, and valuable assistance in the Religious life. To the late Mr. Hill, of Huntly, too, on her arrival in this country, she felt sincere gratitude for the valuable bearing of his ministrations upon her religious habits and experience. To myself,

I can truly say that she looked with a deference altogether undeserved in my official duties. "With meekness" and gratitude did she "receive the engrafted word," which she found to be "able," by God's blessing, "to save the soul."

I dare not omit to glance at the closing scene of a life so consistently pious and humble.

In the year 1847, while residing with my beloved brother, in the North of Scotland, she was seized with inflammatory symptoms, from the effects of which she never recovered. As soon as her enfeebled frame would permit, she returned to Brompton, in the month of June last year. We all perceived that her lungs were affected,-a fact which medical testimony only tended to confirm. The calmness and gentleness of her spirit afforded all advantage to the various processes resorted to by her medical attendant, who, on the day of her funeral, in the hearing of some present, declared that, in the whole course of his professional career, he had never seen but one patient who equalled her in gentleness and meekness of spirit during a period of protracted suffering. No earthly means could ward off the approaching crisis. About six weeks ago, it became obvious to all around her that her end was fast approaching. She fully realized the solemn fact herself. One day she said to me: "I feel I am going fast; one thing I deeply regret, that I have not spent more time in private prayer." I said, "We must all regret this ;"—"Yes," she replied, “but I think it has been one of my greatest sins." "You must cast it," I said, "with all your other sins, upon Christ." "O yes," she responded, "I can look to no one else."

During the whole of her last days, her sufferings were intense; but no murmur or complaint was heard from her lips. When physical pain extorted a groan or a sigh, she seemed anxious to convince us that the submissive, patient, peaceful mind did not consent to it. Prayer, and select portions of the word of God, seemed to be her unceasing delight. The fourteenth chapter of John was balm to her very soul. In a paroxysm of bodily distress, she observed to a beloved member of my family, "O how delightful to think of heaven as a place of rest; there is no weariness, none of this restlessness there: they are for ever at rest!"

Her piety retained its marked diffidence to the last. She would say to me, wistfully, "O, I hope I have not deceived myself,that would be dreadful! but I think I am sincere; I look only to my blessed Saviour." I remarked," And he will never leave you, nor forsake you." "I believe," said she, "He never will.”

The last scene, immediately before her summons, was truly sublime. She felt that her Lord was about to call her. There was no consternation, no agitating dread; but great solemnity, and an outgush of affection to all around her, as if she already breathed the element of that world, "where all the air is love." Of all she took an affectionate

farewell, expressing her fervent hope that we should all meet in heaven. Then breathing out her full confidence in Christ, and committing her departing spirit into His hands who had redeemed her; as if she had something still to accomplish, she looked with unutterable tenderness to her husband, and said, "Dear Alexander, you must meet me in heaven-do-O, do. I have struggled for you in prayer; God is my witness." These were her last distinct utterances. But, then, and it could be no deception, such a radiance came over her placid countenance, that all could distinctly perceive it, and all were moved and subdued by it; as if, when intercourse with earth had ceased, the ascending spirit, ere yet it quitted its hold of the body, had impressed its own bright image upon those features which were about to become still, and cold, motionless in death! So indubitable was this fact, that even after the heart had ceased to beat, the whole features of the countenance settled down into a heavenly smile, making even death itself lovely to look upon.

Happy-glorified spirit! thou art gone to that region where the sufferer's tears will never flow, and where "the days of thy mourning are for ever ended." Thou hast witnessed a good confession, in life and in death, to the love and faithfulness of thy Redeemer; and now thou art gone to be "with Him, which is far better." "Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord; yea, saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labours, and their works do follow them."

MEMOIR OF MR. JAMES MURRAY, ABERCHIRDER, BANFFSHIRE, SCOTLAND.

IN the inland district of Banffshire, on the banks of the Devorn, halfway between Huntly and Banff, is situated the rural parish of Marnoch, which in days of old was little known to fame; more recently, however, it has obtained some degree of notoriety. During the struggle for spiritual independence, which agitated the Church of Scotland, some years ago, the Rev. Mr. Edwards, who has now left the scenes of earth, and tenants "that narrow house in the land of forgetfulness," was ordained over this parish, in the face of the most strenuous opposition on the part of the parishioners. This event, in connection with similar intrusions, contributed in no small degree to effect the memorable disruption in the Scottish Establishment.

At Braeside of Knockorth, in this parish, in the year 1764, James Murray, the subject of the following short memorial, was born. His parents were, what is termed, good, moral people; but not de

cidedly pious; rather poor in worldly circumstances, and therefore unable to give their family a liberal education. The nearest school being considerably distant, James Murray had to pass from childhood to youth, before he could attend upon any other means of instruction than what was obtained under the paternal roof. Moreover, at that period the prevailing opinion, in that secluded and quiet district, (an opinion handed down from sire to son,) was, that the mere rudiments of education were quite sufficient for all the useful and necessary purposes of life. In this sentiment the subject of this memoir participated for many a day; latterly, however, his ideas on this, as on other subjects, became greatly improved, which, happily, is also the case with most of the inhabitants of that locality

now.

Few, indeed, were his religious privileges in early life. This privation he felt to be great; for his was an inquiring mind, much more so than was then common among his equals. Hence he would often make long journeys, on the Lord's day, for the purpose of sitting under the instructions of those ministers who were regarded as preachers of the gospel; for in those days there was a great famine of the bread of life in the north of Scotland. Sometimes he was to be found attending a neighbouring parish church; again mingling with those who were connected with the Secession, occasionally extending his visits to Huntly, a distance of twelve miles, in quest of something to satisfy his dissatisfied and ever-inquiring mind. In this way he acquired a considerable stock of religious knowledge; but it was not until about the year 1802 that he felt the saving power of the truth.

About this time the Independents had a regular preaching-station at Aberchirder, the village in his native parish, where he spent the greater part of his life, and where he died. Under the searching preaching of Mr. Dunbar, who was then preaching, he was awakened to a sense of his danger as a guilty, condemned sinner in the sight of God. Some time after, under a sermon by that honoured servant of the Lord, Mr. Cowie, of Huntly, he was led to see his Saviour, to realise his presence, and to feel the constraining influence of his love as he had never done before. This was on one of those occasions when the dying of the Lord Jesus was commemorated by those who loved and followed the Lord. Such seasons were observed with no ordinary solemnity at that time, in those parts of the country.

The preaching of Mr. Cowie was much sought after, by all classes, for he was a man of great power in his Master's work; consequently his influence for good to souls

extended over a wide space of country. Often, in after life, did the subject of this sketch speak of the season referred to, as a great day of the Lord's power, to be remembered in time, and not to be forgotten in eternity!

An Independent church being formed at Aberchirder, under the pastoral care of Mr. Dunbar, James Murray became a member of it, and continued so until a change of sentiment on the part of the pastor and the greater part of the members, upon the subject of baptism, led him to seek fellowship, in 1810, with the Independent church in Banff-then under the pastoral care of Mr. Gibb, who was a man of great mental capacity, and was highly esteemed for his work's sake. In the church of Banff the subject of these remarks continued a member, and latterly an office-bearer, until the day of his death.

In offering a short sketch of this good man's character, the writer, who lived in close intimacy with him for many a year, can fearlessly assert, without apprehending contradiction from those who knew him best, that his faults were few and far between.

As an avowed Christian, he adorned the doctrine which he professed, by a life and conversation becoming the gospel. He was a plain man; decided, but unobtrusive, consistent, and deeply devotional. He was a Bible Christian,-and during the even tenor of his course enjoyed, in a high degree, the rich consolations of peace with God.

He felt himself in possession of a present salvation; and seldom, indeed, doubted his own personal interest in God's covenant love. He was a humble Christian, never forgetting that he was only a sinner saved by grace, greatly admiring that love and grace to which he felt himself so deeply indebted. In theory and practice he belonged to the old Puritan school: it is, therefore, not to be wondered at, that he was greatly esteemed and loved by the godly, and also had a good report of those without. Shedding abroad the sweet savour of heavenly things, he not only enjoyed his religion, but caused its influence to be felt by others around him; for he wore the badge of Christ's house without a stain, so that his was truly an unblemished reputation. Influenced more by the great principles which he drew from "the book by inspiration given," than by mere circumstances, he maintained an enlightened, steady, progressive, and influential piety to the close of his exemplary life.

In married life, the lovely features of his benignant character were peculiarly prominent. He was kind and affectionate to her who is left to mourn his removal, during all the days of her affliction and

bodily weakness, which have been many. During their pilgrimage together, his sympathy and solicitude to alleviate her sufferings and to promote her comfort were unremitting. Time spent and labour bestowed in the discharge of such conjugal duties, instead of being regarded as trials, were ever counted privileges by him. Although he was almost entirely exempted himself from personal affliction, few could manifest a readier disposition to bear another's burden, by the performance of kind offices, and the ready utterance of a feeling heart. The bereaved partner of his joys and sorrows, who was also his companion in the faith and practice of the gospel, and now waits, under the influence of Christian patience and hope, for the time when she shall unite with him in the services of the upper sanctuary, still remembers his profitable conversation, when vindicating the ways of God, and applying the precious promises to her case, when she was passing through thorns and briars. He knew his place as the head of the family, and he kept it; but he was peculiarly candid in acknowledging his mistake, when convinced that he had done wrong. Instead of manifesting that dogmatical overbearing which characterizes too many husbands, even among those professing godliness, he acted in the very spirit of the apostle's heart-touching injunction," Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ loved the church, and gave himself for it."

Viewed as a parent, there is much to admire, and worthy indeed of imitation. He maintained his authority; but while he ruled his own house well, it was more by the weight of his own personal character and the influence of love, than by the terror of the rod. Seldom did any of his children dare to trifle with his commands, or venture to incur his displeasure. When he was necessitated to use the rod, (for sometimes this was the case, and he did not forget that "he who spareth the rod, hateth the child,") he never acted under the influence of angry feeling, but from a deep sense of duty, and a sincere desire to promote the welfare of his much-loved offspring. The order of his house during the regular seasons of family worship was beautifully becoming. The little ones were so trained, that the noise of their childish sports, all at once, gave way to that serious stillness into which even the junior branches of the family were awed by the father's marked reverence for sacred things. His children were early instructed in the ways and will of God. Attention to his lawful avocations prevented him from spending much time with them during the week; but what he could command was devoted to their improvement. It was principally on the evening of the Lord's day that the

family group assembled to listen to their father's instructions. James Murray was by no means a man fluent in speech; but his good sense, intelligence, earnestness of manner, and weight of character precluded levity and secured attention on the part of his children. Occasionally he read something to his children, which they could understand, following up that exercise with appropriate remarks of his own. His usual mode of conveying instruction, however, was by the catechetical form, asking questions, and enlarging on those points which he wished more particularly to impress upon their tender minds. To these sabbath evening exercises his children, now that most of them have families of their own, and walk in the ways of their father, look back with great pleasure, and hold them in pleasing and profitable remembrance. God's word was the manual of his faith, and therefore he enforced his instructions and commands by a "thus saith the Lord." His affection for his children was very strong; but like the deep-flowing stream, it was noiseless.

It is proper to look at his character as member of civil society. In this respect he was a quiet, unassuming man, possessing, by his own untiring industry, sufficiency of worldly substance for the decent support of himself and his partner, whom he has left in comfort, in respect to the things of this life, and also for the purpose of placing his family in a way to provide for themselves. He was a man of sterling integrity, faithful to all his promises and engagements; indeed, his fidelity and rectitude became proverbial in the place where he lived. His word was never questioned, his promise never doubted, and his sincerity was never suspected by those who knew him. He was liberal to the extent of his means, and occasionally his unsuspecting and wellknown benevolence was taken advantage of by the designing and the cunning. Notwithstanding the unobtrusive cast of his mind, he was essentially public spirited. He read much, and digested what he read; and being gifted with a sound, discerning judgment, he was a very intelligent man for his station; an exception, indeed, to most old men, for he entered with spirit into all the real improvements of modern times, and hailed the increased facilities for the acquisition of religious and useful knowledge, of which he always availed himself. For long he was a constant reader and ardent admirer of the "Evangelical Magazine," and other kindred publications. In the spread of the gospel, and in the general improvement of society, his interest was deep, and remained unabated so long as he continued to breathe. In a word, he kept pace with the rapid, onward march of these eventful times, and always recognised