i • I Itheological seminary,! ^ Princeton, N. J. J -^ ^ ^ From the PUBLISHER. * BR 1725 .D86 D86 1848 ' Duncan, Mary Grey Lundie. Memoir of Mrs. Mary Lundie Duncan 1 MEMOIR MRS MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN RECOLLECTIONS OF A DAUGHTER. BY HER MOTHER. No tears for thee— though our lone spirits mourn Thnt thou with sprinii's sweet flowers wilt ne'er return. No tears for thee— tlioufrli hearth anil home are hliuhied, Though sadness cloud-i the scenes ihy love has lighted. tin tears — for, while with us, thy soul, opprest. Oft longed for refuge in thy Saviour's breast. No tears— for thou hast found thy home above. No tears- thou'rt sheltered in the arms of love. J C. L. NEW YORK: ROBERT CARTER, 58 CANAL STREET, I84y. CONTENTS ■ PAQK BTANZAB WTIITTEN ON READING THE MEMOIR OF MRS. MART ^ LtJNDIE DUNCAN 8 CHAPTER I. DAYS OF CHILDHOOD 9 ' CHAPTER II. I SCHOOL DAYS .33 CHAPTER III. HER FIRST AFFLICTION . 47 | I CHAPTER IV. j 6TUDIE9 AND OCCUPATIONS IN EDINBURGH . . 63 ' CHAPTER V. CORRESPONDENCE AND DIARY ... . . 87 i CHAPTER VI. CORRESPONDENCE . 118 j CHAPTER VII. ! ! VENERAULE CHRISTIAN — VISITS TO THE POOR — REV. JOHN ! BROWN PATTERSON 13$ I CHAPTER VIII. < OI8APPOINTMENT, AND THE MANNER IN WHICH IT WAS BORNE 151 | CHAPTER IX. J SORROW TURNED INTO THANKFULNESS . . 170 ] CHAPTER X. A NEW HOME . 187 I CHAPTER XI. PAROCHIAL SOLICITUDE MATERNAL EMOTIONS . . . 199 ' IT coNinxTK^. CHAPTER XII. CBOWTH IN LOVE ........ CHAPTER XIII. THE MUSE RECALLED A SON GIVEN TWO BROTHERS WITH- PAGE. 224 DRAWN 243 CHAPTER XIV. POETIC EFFUSIONS — SYMPATHY WITH AFFLICTION MATERNAL LOVE AND ANXIETIES — INFANTINE RYHMES . CHAPTER XV. 257 ■rmiTDAL REFRESHMENT — DILIGENCE IN STUDY LAST SAB- BATH IN god's house SICKNESS SUFFERING RE- LIEF FROM IT FOR EVER 270 APPENDIX. . . 287 NO. I. THE RETURN OF ISRAEL . . . . 287 II. THE FLY 288 III. A PRAYER 289 IV. A MORNING PRAYER .... . 290 V. AN EVENING PRAYER 290 VI. PREPARING FOR SUNDAY ..... 291 VII. SATURDAY NIGHT 291 Vlll. THE SABBATH-BF.LL 292 IX. GOING TO CHURCH 293 I. THE GREEN PASTURES ...... 293 XI. THE lamb's LULLABY 294 XII. — THE BEE AND THE FLOWERB .... 296 XIII. THE WET SPARROW . . . . . . 297 XIV. — MY LITTLE BROTHER 298 XV. THE HEATH ....... 298 XVI. THE SHADOWS . 299 XVII. ISAIAH, CHAP. :.XII. VER. 1-5 . . . 300 XVIII. — THE ISLES OF THE GENTILES . . . 301 XIX. ON HEARING A CONCERT OF MUSIC . . . 302 XX. A WISH 303 XXI. — " FORGET ME NOT." 304 XXII. ADDRESS TO SCOTLAND ..... 305 XXill. HOME .... .... 306 XXIV. — LETTER TO HER PASTOR IN EDINBURGH . • 307 LETTER FRO.M HER FRIEND IN AMERICA, REV. DR. C. 308 XXV. — SKETCH OF HER CHARACTER BY HER CORRESPON- DENT IN LONDON 308 PREFACE. This little Work treats of the initiatory steps of an im mortal being — steps, feeble and insignificant if viewed alone, but assuming value and importance when con- sidered as terminating in an eternal destiny. By such steps is each human course commenced — and such is the solemn result involved in its mortal termination. The chief benefit derived from Christian biography, is its ex- hibiting 10 the eye, the image of Christ in the character of his servant ; the manner in which that blessed image first began to be formed — and the various means and in- cidents which contributed to its advancement towards perfection. Growth is the only sure token of healthy spiritual life. The soul has its winter and its spring times, its seasons of seeming check and deadncss, and its seasons of shoot- ing upward from the earthly toward the heavenly charac- ter. A faithful writer remarks, that ''the soul may sup- Eose itself acquainted with its corruption in its length and readth, while, perhaps, it has only moistened its lips at the bitter cup, and may subsequently be constrained to drink much more of it." And thus it is that the Christian must travel the same path more than once. Soul search- ings must be renewed — repentings require to be repented of Love to the Mighty Deliverer, who has performed the wonderful rescue, may at first be ardent and grate- ful — afterwards, it will become humble and intelligent, with the increasing perception, that not only the first de- ciding movement from death to life, but each particular step of the journey through the wilderness, must be guided and upheld by Him who bestows the tem])er of strangers and pilgrims, and who keeps his people by his own power, through faith unto salvation. The experienced reader may find both pleasure and improvemenL in tracing the various seasons of spiritua 1* vi PREFACE. growtli in llie sultjcct of this memoir. Should the exam- j)le of lier early pioty awaken any careless spirits to in- quire vvliy they have not yet set out to seek the Lord, or Bhoiild her evident adviuicement in the divine life, and lier trri'atly brifrhlenin^ ij:race.=!. as she drew near to its most unh)oked-lbr consummation, be tlie means of stirring up any to examine whetiier their souls arc slumber:ng in tiie frosts of winter, or siiootintr vipward in the breath ol' pprinL"", ihf' writer will iiave a blessed return tor the trial eiidurcd in laying: more wide a wound which only reunion ran finally close ; and, in unlocking those foun- tains of tears, which, iiowevcr, have flowed, during the conijiilation. more in thankful submission and gratitude, than in selfish mournin^ r one of whom as yet have been called to ! ... », ' -■: ter from her father describes her bringing .n h^jr L.: brother and sister to the breakfast table, wreathed round and raund with flowers of her weaving, and called by her " ivygods," in honour of the jubilee of the expected MARy LUNDIE DUNCAN, 15 return of their mother, after a brief absence, i.l the midst of her joyful preparations, a letter was brought, stating that the return was delayed, when, instead of grieving or losing temper at her disappointment, she instantly addressed herself to console and amuse the little ones with her usual sweetness. Another letter describes " Mary as melted with a story about the sor- rows of life, and quite up in the air, and full of poetry and sentiment, about may-day gambols." The date of this letter being February, 1821, she was not then seven years of age. These exhibitions of her early excitability are not named to prove precocity of talent. Perhaps many girls are more advanced than she was. The object is rather to alford an opportunity of showing the mea- sures adopted to prevent her imagination from out- growing and injuring her other mental powers. This was done not by forcing didactic lectures on her, which would have wearied without instructing, or more likely have let her attention loose from her lesson, to wander over the very regions from which it was desirable she should be withdrawn ; but by giv- ing her histories from real life. Scripture and others, within her comprehension, such as, " The True Story Book," which is the delight of unsophisticated children, and by talking to her always, from infancy, as if she were a reasonable being. If she had imagination enough to enkindle her sympathies on the side of the modest young lady, of whom she was told by a tale- telling friend, that she went to the ball in simple white, with a lily in her hair, when all the rest were sparkling in diamonds, &c. Sic, she had also good sense enough to perceive, when it was pointed out to her, that the " simple white and lily" were not points of radical difference, and that if the occupation and mind were equally vain, it mattered little whether the parties were decked in stones or in flowers. The Sabbath evening occupations are still remem- 16 MEMOIR OF bered with sweet satisfaction by such of the now far dispersed little company as are alive, and remain , — and, perhaps, to describe them may not be without its use. After reciting the questions which had been acquired before morning hours of public worship, Watts' infant catechism being the first, the children repeated, in turn, what verse of a hymn they could, and all sung it together ; and still the dying cadences of those young, but well-tuned voices, hang on memo- ry's ear, and still the happy coimtenance of that one whose privilege it was to select the hymn is seen by the mind's eye. Then, in turn, they repeated any text they knew, and questioned each other on its mean- ing, as had been done to them when first they learned it ; and, when all this was accomplished, they con- sidered themselves entitled to ask for a " Sunday story." After being indulged in this, the story formed subject of inquiry and discussion, and Scripture proof wherein the actors in the story done wrong or right. The stories were not from scripture history generally, but anecdotes picked up every where. All this having taken place before the system of infant school teaching was introduced, seemed, to some, im- practicable in a company of babes ; but experience justified the plan, and sufficient evidence is now hap- pily furnished in every town, that the infant mind is capable of acquiring, retaining, and applying a great variety of knowledge. Already did little Mary begin to exercise an influence in her circle, for, if the leader of the band was withdrawn for a time, she was always found repeating an old " Sunday story" that she remember*'. I, or inducing the rest to sing, or say their texts to her. These exercises, in some part of which prayer was introduced, would occupy us all for two hours, without a shade of weariness, and seem to dispel the difficulty which many pious pa- rents express of keeping their children suitably em- ployed on the Lord's day. They were not kej)! from MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 17 weariness by allowing them to return to the nursery to their toys ; for a regular occupation of {Saturday night was to put all these away, and except a picture Bible, they had not, or ever sought for, a Sabbatb amusement. A friend whose untiring interest in the progress of the little family was the occasion of her jeing made the recipient of many a written anecdote, has fur- nished the following, which are introduced as speci- mens of very early attention to what was read, and of healthy exercise of the thinking powers : — The history of Elymas the sorcerer, was read to them,— • Cornelius, with his bold, decided judgment, exclaimed, " Blind ! I would have struck him dumb for speaking against the gospel." Mary, perhaps afraid of the freedom of the criticism, replied, " Oh, no, Corie, blinding him was best, for he might repent, and then you know he could speak for the gospel." On another occasion, Corie, not feeling well, was resting on the rug, and rather fretful. He was told that he ought not to complain, as he must learn, in whatsoever state he was, to be therewith contented. His sister, who, seated on a stool, was trying to use a needle and thread, looking up considerately, put the puzzling query, " Mamma, would you be contented if your head was in the mouth of a lion ?" While pon- dering what reply was most suitable, the dilemma was removed by the little boy rearing from his list- lessness, and saying, " O yes, she would ; for you know the lion could not eat her soul !" Inexperienced instructors are accused of being un- necessarily strict disciplinarians, and there is much weight in the French maxim, '■'■ j)as trap gouverner." To cast occupations in the way of children, and leave them to pursue their natural selection ; to guide and restrain, but not to dictate in matters of amuse • ment, leaves more play to the taste and genius, and generally gives more zest to enjoyment. 2* lo MEMOIR OF This firstling of the flock required teaching, as she had no example of older children ; but so ductile waa her mind, and so flexible her disposition, and so mi- serable was she at the idea of having done wrong, that she required less restraining than most children ; and the experience of later years seems to point out, that she might have been disciplined through all her childhood, without the use of punishment at all. On one occasion, when, for some Ihtlc fault, she was put behind the sofa, under sentence of remaining there for ten minutes, her anguisli and her tears were mis- taken for a fit of passion in their bitterness ; and she was told that if she did not command herself and be quiet, she should remain there double the time. She still stretched her little arms and sobbed out, " Forgive me ! O forgive me !" and when asked how she could expect to be forgiven while she cried and wanted to come out, she at last was able to explain, that, were she but forgiven, she would stay there quietly all day if she was told. This is a sample of her general disposition ; the idea of having oflended her parents, and, above all, of having sinned against God, in- flicted from earliest childhood, the keenest misery on her sensitive mind. Though her tears flowed so readily on subjects that wounded feeling, she could endure a considerable amount of bodily pain without complaint. On one occasion while being chased round the room by an orphan girl, who, for a time, found a home in the manse, Mary fell against the cor- ner of a brass-nailed chair, and had a long gash made in her plump cheek. The stream of blood which quickly stained her clothes, the tears of the [loor girl who caused the mischief, and the anxious countenances of all the circle, in addition to her own sufl'ering, drew no tears from her. The friendly old family surgeon finished his task of clasping the wound, by saying, " There my little lass, I hope that will heal, without marring your beauty." The child MARY Lt'NDIE DUNCAN. 19 replied, with her native politeness, " Thank you, sir," and, then turning to the nurse, on whose knee she was held, she said, in a confidential sotto voice, " That is a cebber (clever) doctor." Though thus hardy in hor own powers* of endu- rance, she was tender to all living things. A loved relative and occasional companion from her earliest years, says, " one of the first remembrances I have of her, was her gently rebuking me (with no intention to rebuke, but with an evident surprise,) for killing a spider, instead of putting it out of the window." Outward observers could not tell the time when Mary did not appear to be under a gracious influence. But in her thirteenth year, — when in preparation for tmiting in the sacred communion services, she con- versed with her parents, and was led to reveal more of her inward views than was usual with her, — she herself stated, that the first time she remembered to have felt the Spirit of the Lord moving her to anxi- ety about her soul, and to prayer, was in her seventh year, on her recovery from a severe fever. Her constitution seemed to be constructed with a feverish tendency ; for several times, at intervals of years, she had serious attacks of fever : and in this, her first visit of that disease, she seemed as near the brink of the grave as she ever seemed in her last, till within a brief period of her spirit's being set free. Days and nights of watching were passed, when hei faculties were shut up from those around her. She did not speak, and saw very imperfectly ; she could not swallow, and was conjectured not to hear. Yet, when her strength came again, she mentioned that she heard, and sometimes was able to give her attention to what was said, — that whispering in the room dis- turbed and irritated her more than speaking in the natural voice, — that she often was comforted by the prayers which were offered by her bed, and she was tlad if a hymn or text were repeated, and grieved 2C MEMOin. OF that she coiihl make no si^n to indicate that she wishe^l for more. Amongst other things which reached her watchful mind, she name! her gladness when she understood that a dear Christian brother, who prei\ched, was to pray for her in church. She also understood a conference between her medical at- tendants, who discussed by her bed the improl)ability of her surviving the night, and (lookers on might weli liave been surprised, had they known the cfiect of this medical opinion,) felt in herself that they were mis- taken, for she was not dying ! From these circum- stances, lessons may be drawn by those who are about the sick ; not that they are new, for they have been urged and laid down many a time in medical books, but in most cases they are not practised. First, that whispering excites nervous irritation and suspi- cion in the patient. Second, that the sick, whether they seem to hear or to have perfect command of their intellectual powers or not, ought invariably to be dealt with as if they had, in all that is said within their hearing. And, third, that words of comfort and instruction, such words as the Lord Jesus Christ has furnished us with, ought still to be poured into ears, which, for aught we know, are not xniconscious, and that prayer ought to be made not only for but with them. After many days of keen suffering, and of intellec- tual seclusion, the little patient was revived, and the more hojKiful task was vouchsafed to her nurses, to strengthen and raise her up again. She very soon asked to be read to, and would have listened more than her feebleness rendered it safe to allow ; and weak though her eyes were, she used herself to read with avidity a book consisting of meditations and hymns adapted to the capacity of childhood, and ex- hibiting the " Good Shepherd," in terms somewhat suited to his gracious office and tfcnder care. She would not trust any one to remove this favourite little MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 21 book out of her reach, but hid it under her pillow, when, from fatigue, she could read no more. At this lime, she said nothing to her friends about her serious impressions, warmly as her heart went out to them ; but her love for religious converse, and her own per- sonal share in what she had opportunity to listen to of the experience of her seniors, might be con- jectured from the frequent te-ars, and the expression of tender anxiety in her wan but sweet countenance. After being restored to health, her solicitude about the conduct and condition of the junior members of her family was more actively exhibited ; and her bro- ther, who was not much younger than herself, betrayed his consciousness of a restraining influence, which was probably not always welcome to his bolder spirit, by calling her " the magistrate." The term is not in- dicative of any thing overbearing and unseemly on her part, but of guidance and restraint. And well does it become the parent, who felt her worth as influenc- ing the whole circle for good, to acknowledge, in adoring gratitude, the bounty of Him who bestowed so gracious a child. In a letter addressed to a bosom friend, when Mary was still but in her eighth year, this expression of grateful acknowledgment is given, and will at least prove that the admiration is no after- thought, but was parallel with her days as they passed : " Mary and Corie are very busy with their teacher. Mary improves in industry, understanding, affection, and duty every day. I sometimes wonder how she ever was given to us ; and sometimes wonder, too, (for conscience does not allow me to enjoy such an undeserved blessing in peace,) if she is to be taken soon home, or if she is to be the kind eldest daughter of a motherless family." From about this time, when the business of instruc- tion was set about in earnest, the services of a tutor were engaged, and the education of the family con- ducted without distinction of sex, in the subjects to 22 MEMOIR OF which their minds were applied ; and Mary, as tho elder, led the van in every lesson. By and by she was permitted daily to pass an hour or two with two Christian friends, at her needle, in addition to her other lessons, and to them she occasionally betrayed more of the working of her heart than she could do to her parents. For example, she asked why it was that when she had an earnest desire to pray, and went to her knees, she could not. The child seemed distressed about it, and felt it a burden. She benefited much by the converse of these faith- ful friends, and remembered them with grateful sym- pathy during the rest of her life. They had occasion to remark her sensitive nature under rebuke, and her concern when she had fallen into error. Sometimes, when she went to them, she would say, " I felt very stupid at lessons to day, and mamma was not pleased with me ;" and the tear in her eye evinced her un- easiness. On the arrival of a relation of theirs from a distance, a girl of nearly her own age, she embraced the opportunity of their frequent intercourse, to seek to influence her for the good of her soul ; and, when alone, would pray with her. With her own brothers and sisters, as they advanced in numbers and in un- derstanding, she delighted to engage in the same sa- cred exercise : and, however her affections might be extended to other companions, she seemed to feel an absence of perfect cordiality if she did not meet in them sympathy in spiritual things. Her delicate musical ear, and sweet voice, were soon engaged in singing with the spirit and under- standing ; and so contemplative was her nature, that the liveliest joys of childhood would have been forsaken at any tune for a lonely walk on the ever- lovely banks of her admired Tweed, or for a few mi- nutes of pious converse or singing with an older friend. It is not easy to say at w hat date her relish for the MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 23 beauties of nature was enhanced, by looking beyond them to the power and munificence of the God of creation, combined with the compassion and love of the God of redemption. Iler early attempts at no- ting with her pen the thoughts of her heart, exhibit the play of poetic imagery and sentiment, together with efforts at reflection and sober views of existence beyond this world. The following verses have been recently found m a box of juvenile keep-sakes, and similar treasurer Judging by the writing, they may be referred to h^r eleventh or twelfth year : — " How sweet are those delightful dreams, That charm in youtii's first days of bloom ! And sweet those radiant sunshine gleams, That wander Ihroujjh surrounding gloom, And bright are fancy's fairy bowers, And sweet the flowers that round she fling When in gay youth's romantic hour She shows all fair and lovely things. But ah ! there is a land above. Whose pleasures never fade away ; A holy land of bliss and love, Wliere night is lost in endless day. And in the blare of that blest day, All earthly bowers we deemed so bright Must fade, as when the sun's first ray Dispels the darkness of the night. Why should my soul so fondly cling To joys that bless my pilgrimage ? The joys of heaven I ought to sing. Its raptures ail my love engage. Why should my spirit fear to die ? What though the river may be deep? When past, I never more shall sigh ; My eyes shall then forget to weep. O ! for faith's bright and eagle eye. To pierce beyond this vale of teai», To regions blest above the sky, To worlds unknown by lapse of year* 24 MEMOIR. OF Then should the toys that tempt me now, From my enraptured bosom fly ; In faith and grace my soul should grow, Till death be lost in victory." The following outpouring of a refined spirit, pant ing after earthly enjoyments of an ethereal character she has entitled, " IMAOINATION& " I've imaged a land where flowers are growing In pristine sweetness all the year, And purest cystal streams are flowing. And sunbeams kiss the waters clear. Where music's voice, the hours beguiling. Comes floatin gon the summer air ; Where beaming suns are mildly, smiling. And cloudless skies are ever fair. But darkness here the daylight closes. And storms obscure the sunlit sky ; And thorns are mingled with our roses ; While joy is round us, grief is nigh. ! were I in that land of gladness I've imaged fair within my breast. Then farewell to grief and sadness, Welcome soul-refreshing rest. Within the leafy grot reclining. While balmy breezes round me played, 1 gazed on scenes all brightly shining, With nought to make my heart afraid. My heart should rise, with nature blending In one sweet song of harmony ; Each lovely object round me tending To make my soul all melody." The very severe and protracted indispostdw f a sister three years younger than herself,^ wtikCh. de- prived the family, for many months, of all ftia.>.rnal superintendence, extended a double gloom over the house of mourning. The children were all suffering from hooping-cough at the time that her sister was first deprived of the use of her limbs, and then, for MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 25 some months, of sight, by inflammation in the brain and spine. Poor Mary faded, and lost appetite Jhv by day ; and, at the hour of the medical visit, whc! the dear sufferer's eyes were bandaged, that the iiatii of a candle might be introduced to the chamh«' wtiich at all other times was in a state of midnight darkness, it was mournful to remark, as the little group crowded around that bed of anguish, that Mary's cheek was pale and her eye dim; and while the younger sought to say something cheering to the dear sufTerer, she could only shrink behind the curtain to shroud her tears. It was, therefore, found neces- sary to send her away from the scene ; and she wa» indebted for a home to sympathizing and intelligeni relatives, who cheered her, without leading her t& forget those in whose distresses it became her to par- take. The house-keeper in that family lately expressed,, with tears, her loving remembrance of the little guest; and said, that a girl of her own age, who had been invited as her companion, remarked to her, " Mary, you always pray out of your own mind ; but I say the prayers my mamma has taught me." She repli- 3d, " Anna, if I were to do that, how could I ask for what I need from God 1" This little circumstance gives evidence that prayer was with her experienced 10 be real intercourse with her Father in heaven. No juvenile letters appear connected with that pe- riod, when the rod of the holy God was laid so- sharply on her house ; but the impression left on the bereaved circle, when it was removed, and the re- doubled zeal and sweetness of Mary in regard to di- vine thingj, were conspicuous. Her return to the Sabbath-school, in her mourning garb, and re-occu- pying her place, with a solemn view of her responsi- bility for the use of each Sabbath, while the place of her dear sister was filled by another, was observed to be with her a time of increased prayer and 3 26 Mr.-MOIR OF watchfulness ; and the idea of a sister dwelling in the presence of Jesus, seemed to sublimate her thoughts, and give her a sedateness that never left her again. Though then only in her eleventh year, and always full of sweet flexibility of temper, that led her to en- ter with readiness into the interests and engagements of others, to Mary there was an end of May-day gambols, of constructing grottoes, of taking the lead in lively games. Converse with her seniors, listening when they conversed, reading, writing, and enjoying the green earth and sky alone, seemed to be all the excitement she desired. During the communion ser- vices in the early spring of her twelfth year, when she was in delicate health, a letter from one, whose watchful eye took in much that was not made subject of conversation, contains this remark : — " Dear Mary had a melting day on Sabbath, weeping and praying for more love. She was able to be in church for a short time. I trust there are many gracious marks about her." The next winter she, with trembling and humble anxiety, asked if she might be counted worthy to ap- proach the table of the Lord. Her father told her that he hoped and believed that she loved her Lord tiow, and as the communion is an ordinance in which he reveals himself to those who love him, he saw no reason why she should be held back on account of age, and he trusted she would be strengthened to per- severance by partaking of it. She then requested to be permitted to share in the instructions of a faithful friend of her father, hoping for more guidance, as she f(!lt that her parents had already told her all they could on the affecting subject. This request was most cordially acceded to, and she passed some time in the family of the Rev. Mr. Hunter, then of Swin ton. She returned from those aflectionate friends and faithful servants of the Lord, accompanied by ex- MARY LUXDIK DUNCAN. 27 pressions of increased love, on their part, and of de- iiglit with her (Uictility, and congratulations to her parents on having received from God the gift of such a child. While aosent she wrote little notes, which exhibit the state of her mind : — " I fear I am not sufficiently anxious about preparing ; but earnestly desire to be more so. Please write to me soon and stir me up. 1 know you pray for me." — " I hope to have a letter from you. Oh! I feel that I do not love God enough. I feel that I am very sinful, and backward in laying down my burden at the foot of my Redeemer's cross. But I desire to love God. I feel that, if 1 had no hope in him, I should be miserable indeed. ! I cannot think what there is in the world that makes us so ready to do as our wicked adversary bids us, rather than to follow after our Lord, who hath first loved us . But still / know that God will not leave me to myself. He knows the most secret thoughts of my heart, and knows the way to purify me to himself. ' He has seen my ways and will heal me. Having loved his own, he will love them to the end ; he will not suffer his faithfulness to fail.' " — " When I come home, you will counsel me, and lead me closer to my God. O how I wish for a closer walk with God ! and I know that in his own good time he will grant me this de- sire of my heart I" No written memorial of this affecting point in the young Christian's pilgrimage appears, but it dwells in memory as a time of much tenderness of spirit, and mutual prayer, and one remarkable result experienced by her earthly guardians was, that she seemed now devoted and sealed an heir of God, and joint-heir with Christ ; so that, although, as still in the vvilder- ness, she continued an object of tender care and anx- iety, yet the great matter was settled. The good work was not only clearly begun in her soul, but ad- vancing steadily ; and her gracious God to whom she 28 MEMOIil OF had given herself, was pledged to carry it on till the day of the Lord Jesus. Her education from this time went on rapidly under her tutor, with such assistance as Kelso aflbrded, in those points of cultivation peculiar to her sex, till she entered her fifteenth year. From various essays in prose and verse which had been appointed as exer- cises for her mind, her versification of a well-known Greek ode is selected, as it peculiarly delighted her father, on account of the harmony and freedom of its numbers. The subject is Danae with the infant Per- ■seus. Her tutor read it to her in English prose, and <>}«'■ repaid him by the following verses : — " INVOCATION. " Ye gentle muses, I invoke your aid ; Ye dwellers in Parnassus, hear my prayer: To tune your lyre assist a simple maid, And make her numbers your peculiar care." " The winds and waves were softly sighing Over the billowy heaving main ; The sea-bird was all wildly crying, And soaring o'er the watery plain. And there a chest, in gentle motion, Was lifted with the rising wave. As floating on the restless ocean, It hasted to a sea-beat grave. Imprisoned in this darksome dwelling, There lay a lady and a child : Her bosom was with sorrow swelling ; And thus she spake in accents wild : With grief, my son, my heart is breaking. For fast we're drifting to the tomb, While thou thy sweet repose art taking, Unmindful of our coming doom. MAIIY LUT^DIE DUNCAN. 29 • How canst thou lie in breathing slumber Within this darksome prison room, While burs and bolts in countless number Confine us in eternal gloom. * Thou heedest not the wild waves moaning With purple mantle round thee thrown ; Thou hearest not thy mother's groaning, — I pour my wail to winds alone ! ' Thou, who with pleasure used to hearken, And make my will, thy law, by choice, Would'st now, when tempests round us darken, Attend, if thou could'st hear my voice. * Ah I still unconscious press thy pillow. Tranced in sweet slumbers, dearest child: Hush, hush, thou deep, each murmuring billow Be still, be still, ye breakers wild I • My soul, my heart, is rending — breaking ; Be still, my wo, — be still, be still ! In deep, deep sleep that knows no waking. Be sunk, ye phantoms, all of ill !' ' In the selection of texts to be learned as one of the early nursery exercises, there had been a view, from the first, to such as could be most usefully employed in prayer ; and as soon as the mind was strengthened sufficiently to apply them, the children were accus- tomed to compose prayers by the combination of one, two, or three of these texts in the form of petitions ; so that prayers were dictated by those who could not write, and were written in all the initiatory stages of penmanship. Except the Lord's prayer, thev were scarcely taught anything approaching to a form, from the conviction, that the habit of exerting the mind to discover its own wants, and to employ the continually increasing store of scripture in seeking for their sup- ply, was a likely way to ward ofl' heedlessness and formality in this holy exercise. After being exer- cised in this manner for a while, they were gradually 3* 30 MEMOIR OF brought to pray in turn on some part of the Sabbath day, and tliey who devised the little plan, have reason to praise Him wlio givelh the increase, for he shed on it the dew of his blessing. The want of this spe- cies of training, forms, in many, an impediment to social usefulness for life ; they may pray with the spirit, but for want of practice they are constrained to be silent when it would be for edification that they should speak ; and, while it is readily conceded that fluency does not necessarily insure spiritual prayer, it must also be admitted that spiritual prayer without utterance, is not capable of being helpful and consol- itary to others. How many a sick person is visited in the spirit of Christian love, hut (piitted with a feeling of imperfec' cion in the performance of the duty, because the blessing of llis spirit, who alone can make good council to grow, has not been invoked. How many s class for instruction is opened and closed withou' prayer, which, when sincerely offered, acts as a frame- work or enclosure to hedge in the good seed, and shelter it from the birds of the air that are so ready to carry it away. Were the teachers or visitors of the pick habituated from early days to fashion petitions for themselves, and to pray with members of their own family occasionally, all embarrassment would be avoided, and one temptation to the omission of this duty would be removed. This subject is dwelt on with the more earnestness, because, in these times of ra- pid movement, when families quit thei-r scenes of .study to be suddenly scattered to the ends of the earth, their own consolation and stedfastness, and their means of usefulness to others, caimot fail to be promoted by readiness in prayer. By this gift they may have tlie honor to assist in hastening tlie latter- day glorii'S ; wiihout it tliey may be obliged to see llieir brother have need of spiritual aid, and stand si- lent by. MEMOIR OF 31 A prayer of Mary Lundie, preserved by the care of a maternal friend, has just been forwarded from its long hiding place, which is of too great length for in- sertion, but which contains the outlines of those holy desires that in maturer years are to be seen in her diary. The juvenility of some expressions proves the youth of the petitioner, while intercession for the sick, the ungodly, the heathen, for ministers and for missionaries, prove that her heart was already ex- panded in Christian love to embrace the world, and to desire that Christ should be glorified by the salva- tion of all men. Her interest in the extension of the Redeemer's kingdom was early exhibited. Having heard it suggested in the Sabbath school that the children gave nothing of their own if they begged pence from their parents, and that they ought to ex- ercise self-denial, and give to the missionary cause money which they would have expended on their own indulgences, Mary asked that she might eat her bread without butter, and the price be given her for the mission box. About this time a watch, virhich was an old family piece, was presented to Mary by two much-loved and highly esteemed relatives. Her grateful acceptance of the gift, and moral musings on its use, were ex pressed in the following lines : — " Believe me, dear ladies, tho' long I've delayed To return for your present the thanks that are due, My heart has its tribute of gratitude paid, And now that heart's tribute I offer to you. How pure is its substance ! how brightly it shines! Its springs with what beauty and order they move ! But charms more delightful than these it combines, Since it comes as a pledge of affection and love. When I list to its voice, that's so constant and low, It seems to be warning me, Time will not stay ; U tells the swift moments, as onward they flow In the stillness 3f night and the bustle of day. 32 MEMOm OF And thirty years past (passing strange does it seem,) It number'd the hours as tiiey fleeted away ; Before I beheld the fair day's cheering beam, Its voice was the same as I hear it to-day. Ah ! 'tis a reproof to fond man's foolish care. Who treasures for earth as his ultimate joy, That the gay and the lovely, the bright and the fair, To memory are lost, before this little toy. Let it teach me to work in the days that are given ; Let it teach me to flee from the follies of earth ; Let it teach to me garner a treasure in heaven. And esteem sacred wisdom more precious than mirth. And may you, my dear friends, while your journey enduroa In improvement of time and in happiness dwell ; Enjoy the repose that religion ensures ; Peace and comfort be with you— dear ladies, farewell !" MARY LXraDLE DUNCAN. 33 CHAPTER II, SCHOOL DAYS. It is not uncommon for those who are seeking with a prayerful spirit, to pursue the plans which seem best adapted to an end, to feel themselves ar- rested by their frustration, and thus constrained to trace back all their motives, and the elements on which their judgment was formed, with a view to discover the occasion of their failure. There is one, however, and that the sovereign element, at work in the history of the child of God, which is often invisible even to the eye of faith, until it is enabled to cast its glance back over the finished history of that child. When we enter into the sanctuary of God, we become aware that, while we were in pursuit of one species of attain- ments, the Holy One, regardless of our limited wishes, was, in his own way, pursuing his will, which was the sanctification of the object of our care. Under this new aspect, we perceive that what we deemed a disappointment was in fact a blessing, and that, instead of our Father in heaven declining to co- operate with us, he is fulfilling our dearest desires by taking the work into his own hand. This was remarkably verified in the first year that Mary was separated from her family. It was with trembling and prayerful anxiety that the resolution was come to of parting with one so lovely, so sensi- tive, and so reflecting ; and the selection of the school to which she was to be entrusted was a sub- ject of the most anxious care. But, at the end of one year, when that school was permanently closed, the purposes for which she had been placed there, seemed 34 MEMOIR OF in so great a degree to have failed, that it was put down as a serious disappointment. The chief object had been to find a seminary conducted on strictly Christian principles, in connection with the atten- dance of excellent teachers ; and these seemed to have been found. Perhaps the lady who communicated with the inquirer, and described the internal regula- tion of the place, was not called upon to reveal to a stranger, that she, in a few weeks, purposed to marry, and leave the concern under the direction of a sister Perhaps her humility made her fail to perceive that, when she went, the genius, the energy, the power of control, and the industry of the establishment went with her. But so it was ; and it was speedily ob- vious that there was the want of a pervading mind to '".orrect prejudices, to guide and influence opinions and affections, and to discern and rebuke youthful fol- lies. So that while lessons were carefully taught, personal comfort sedulously cared for, and religious duties and privileges provided as became a Christian, the new head of the establishment failed to detect a strong under current of trickery and deception, which, though applied to mere baubles, had a perni- cious effect on those of upright purpose, who had not force to resist being swept away by its strength. Into this scene, then, after all the care in selection, was this child of home introduced, and there was she left to make her way alone. Her own description in a letter to a friend, written during the holidays, will give a simple view of her state. To her parents she did not reveal it, though it had been stipulated that she should enjoy the unwonted privilege of corres- ponding with them without the supervision of her governess : — *' London, Jan. 5, 1830. " I have been tolerably happy at school. For the ^rst few weeks, indeed, I was very miserable. I felt MARV LHNDIE DUNCAN. 35 inys.jlf for the first time among total strangers. When mamma left me, and I looked round and saw not one by whom I was loved, or for whom I myself had any regard — when I found my minutest actions criticised, and my words repeated, I did fear that I should have nothing but unhappiness. Miss B , the lady wht)m mamma and I saw the first time we called, had taken a fancy to me, and having a poetic imagi nation, had, with the intention of inspiring all the girls with love for me, given them a most enthusiastie and mistaken description ; so that, as was quite natu- ral, they expected something more than usually ex- cellent, — one who would be superior to them all, and in vvhom they should discover very few faults. This was not unmingled with envy. Consequently, when they saw a poor sorrowful girl, quite unaccustomed to school tricks and school girls, they were disappointed, imagined that Miss B had unjustly preferred me, and all turned away from me. I had a great deal of prejudice to overcome, for, when a few of the girls whom the others most look up to are hostile to any one, the rest very easily follow in their train. In this way my situation was more unhappy than that of the others. One young lady, whom I liked best, left school in bad health in the middle of the half year. However I have got over most of that now, and two, who persecuted me most, like me best." Many of the causes of persecution were also sub- jects of envy, — such as writing uninspected letters ; possessing a desk, with the privilege of locking up her treasures in it ; discovering by accident that she understood Latin, an enormity which poor Mary, in her simplicity, had no suspicion could offend ; the possession of a miniature of her mother ; and, above all, her having been caught in the perpetration of such a breach of esprit de corps, as to look on it in her own room, with the tear in her eye. These, and such things as these, which proved that the culprit had " a world 30 MEMOIR OF elsewhere," which she preferred to the society of her present associates, were offences sufficient to bring on her inexperienced and devoted head, a succession of petty vexations and annoyances, which, in the ins-u- lated microcosm of a boarding-school, were enough to afflict her spirit. It was the means of leading her to seek guidance and support in prayer ; and the dis- cipline of heart which cost her so much pain, teach- ing her to turn away wrath by a soft answer, to over- look wilful endeavours to place her in a false position with tlie governess, and to pray for those who did so, without either scorning their contempt or courting their favour, was blest to her for her remaining years. In the home where she was beloved and cherished, she could not have encountered such circumstances ; and here was visible the master hand taking upon himself the education of this dear child, in his own blessed way, but in a manner which could not fail to be distressing to her parents, when they disco- vered it. An incident puerile in the eyes of the world with- out, but capable of exciting a considerable sensation within a boarding-school, developed her character and purposes, in a way that turned the tide in her favour. The spirit of frolic, or the pleasantness of eating bread in secret, had tempted the young people to en- list the cook (whose integrity they had means to turn aside,) in their service, to purchase for them a variety of cakes, which were to be enjoyed in an upper chamber, when the seniors of the establishment sup- posed them to have retired to rest. One young lady, who had so far dared to judge for herself as not to join in any act of persecution against this lonely being, entreated her to engage in the scheme. She urged her by the inotive, that if she did not, it would only render her more unpopular ; that the rest ex- pected, if she did not, she would certainly betray them ; that the cook would lose her place, &c. &.a MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 37 In short, in the form of the tempter, she made it ap- pear that the only amiable and safe mode was to fol- low the multitude to do evil. Mary was enabled steadily to resist, and was left alone in her chamber, by the gentle girl who had urged her, and who was her- self so convinced by her arguments, that what they did was wrong, that she only joined the revellers above staiis, from the fear of sharing in Mary's per- secution if she stayed with her. After the secret banquet was over, the same kind friend brought a por- tion of the spoil to the bed where poor Mary lay in tears. She urged her to accept of her dainties, she even pressed a bunch of grapes against her feverish lips, but she steadily declined to taste them. Her conduct excited great alarm in the little band, who saw a fair occasion afforded of vengeance for all their wrongs, by a simple statement of the truth. But when some days past, and the same quiet deportment was observed, neither threat nor inuendo exciting their fears, first one, then another, became convinced of their injustice and unkindness. Time after time, she found notes of apology, and overtures of recon- ciliation slipped into her work-box ; and at length the most adverse threw down the weapons of their petty warfare, and sought her friendship ; — thus verifying, in their confined circle, the saying of the wise man, " When a man's ways please the Lord, he causeth even his enemies to be at peace with him." As the holidays approached, anxiety about the awarding of prizes arose to a great height Mary Lundie received the premium for general Christian and lady-like deportment, by a great majority of marks ; and, when another pupil received the music-prize, about which there had at one time been a doubt whether Mary should not have obtained it, she con- gratulated her rival, and kissed her with such affec- tionate sincerity, that it was marked by the whol& school , and, from that time, she might, if she would 4 88 jii:moir of have accepted the bad pre-eminence, have been the leader, instead of the persecuted. The huly who had presided, during that year, at the close of it was also married, and the establishment was broken up. No one, therefore, can be injured by this delineation ; and as she has since entered the eternal world, her feel- ings cannot be wounded by it. Where the head of a seminary is of sharper eyes than this lady, and is as kind and conscientious as she without question was, exercises of tyranny, and evil temper of this descrip- tion cannot occur. The trial was severe on one whom her father, in writing of it, described as, " a moral plant, ill adapted to the cold clime of this world ;" and has been always remembered wnth con- cern, but also with the thankful consciousness that He who alone can bring good out of evil, stood by her, in her hour of temptation, and sanctified the trial to her advancement in holiness. Mary was fortunate in an affectionate and very ju- dicious friend, who opened for her a home during va- cations, and treated her as her own child — entering into her concerns ; watching her improvement ; sug- gesting alterations in her studies ; and writing faith- ful details of her observations to her distant family. This highly estimable lady was remembered ever with grateful and dutiful regard ; and the prospect of seeing her again was held among the bright spots in the vista of future years. This hope was destined to be disappointed. One of this eidightened friend's many acts of considerate and enlarged kindness, was obt;uning permission for Mary to pass a week with bfr in the montli of May, 1830. During this time, lirr letters, overflowing with tidings from the meet- uigs of religious societies, which introduced her to 60 brilliant and precious a section of the talent and philanthropy of her country, showed how well be- stowed was that week of indulgence, and of higb enjoyment. It was delightful to her father to observe MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 39 the eagerness with which her niiiid grasped at those subjects which had engaged his own best energies, and touched his best i'echngs for nearly the whole of his life. Her descriptions of Wilberforce, Clarksou, Fiuxton, and Brougham, and of their speeches, — • ;ho eathnsiasm with which she yielded hei soul to the powers of eloquence, and the true feeling with which she embraced every just and holy cause, as it was presented, proved that these opportunities were powerful auxiliaries in the development of her mind, and compensated, in a great degree, for some defects in her school. One great object to be sought in edu- cation, is the expansion of mind, not merely by the atudy of hooks, but by presenting external objects to the observation, as its powers become stronger. What- ever has the effect of loosening the prejudices which, in some characters, form the chief part of early at- tachment, is an important auxiliary in mental culture. A young person, born in a great city, will acquire a thousand new sources of deUght, by going to school ir^ the country. The sights and sounds of nature, substituted for the ceaseless pavement, and the throng of men ; the very view of snow, resting on cottage- roofs, and clothing every spray, unfolds comparments in the budding mind, which might otherwise be shrunk up and withered through a lengthened life. The con- verse is also true ; and a young person accustomed to country scenes, or the habits and notions of a countrj' town, will not only acquire many new ideas, but escape from many prejudices, by removal to a city ; and this, not at pecuniary cost, or at the expense of hard study, but by the mere circumstance of change of place. The same thing holds true with respect to religious forms and sects. Mary Lundie, though attached to the Church of Scotland by a long line of ancestors — ■ some of whom had suffered persecution in her cause ' — though educated in the most respectful attachment 40 MEMOIR OF to her parent church, where she had learned all that she knew of the Saviour, and of which she had the privilege to be an early member, yet learned, during her sojourn at the south, with much gladness of heart, to enjoy the services of the Church of England, and to drink in, with avidity, the ardent addresses of some of the evangelical dissenters ; and thus was laid the foundation of that catholic spirit, which has doubtless expanded in the region of her present habitation, to embrace all, by whatsoever name they may have been distinguished on earth, who have loved the Lord Je- sus in sincerity. These valuable objects were pro- moted by converse with many Christian friends, with whom she was permitted to hold intercourse in Lon- don ; and, while careless observers might criticise ex- ternal accomplishments, her parents blessed God that her Christian love, emancipated from mere local trammels, expatiated over all the churches of Christ with benignant sympathy. The close of the seminary in which her first year was passed, rendered it necessary to seek another. Her ideas of what that other should be, are thus ex- pressed by her, to her friend Mrs. Evans : " I do want a clever school. Not one where there is a routine of mechanical tasks. I want something to exercise my head ; something to improve my composition, which might easily be effected in conjunction with lighter iccomplishments,if there were a clever sensible person who would take an interest in it. — I hope that, wher- ever I go, I may liear the gospel preached." In the seminary finally selected, that of Mrs. Gor- don, in Euston Square, she found a congenial circle, a happy home, and the means of improvement to her heart's content. Those days flowed sweetly on, where pupil and teacher were attached as sisters ; where instruction was communicated and received with equal avidity ; where the minutiae of knowledge, ind the higher communings of spirits prepared for MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 41 heaven, were blended in their daily occupations. On all occasions, Mary expressed her respect and love for Mrs. and the Misses Gordon ; and, with Miss Isabella, she formed a tender friendship, which was suddenly interrupted by the death of that talented and devoted young lady, a few short months after she had entered on a new line of duties in the married state The srrvivors mujst forgive this tribute to a memory so precious, and so linked with the ardent admiration and love of Mary Lundie. Three years after she had enjoyed this tuition, in a letter to a friend, she says " Have you heard that my ever-beloved Mrs. Clark (the matrimonial name of Miss I. Gordon,) has en- tered her rest ? Her end was triumphant ; but 0, what a loss ! Even to me it is most afflicting. What then, must it be to her family, — to her husband, who possessed the treasure but eighth months ! O, to meet her in our Father's house. The south has lost half its charms, now my beloved friend is gone. Pray that my affections may be fixed on God, and not traverse earth to find something to fill up the blank. When shall I love a young friend, as I loved her ?" This extract is purposely antedated, to exhibit the felicity of the pupil under so beloved a teacher. Here also may be fitly introduced, an extract from a lettel from this lamented friend, after Mary had finished he . first half year, under the roof of Mrs. Gordon. "69 Euston Square, January 3, 1831. * * * " We trust you will find her time has not been lost while under our care. I have felt great pleasure in instructing her, she is so attentive a pupil ; and her amiable dispositions, combined with talent and piety, have endeared her not a little to us, — a friendship which, I trust, may not be forgotten when we part, but that you will kindly allow Mary to write to me sometimes. It is a pleasing reflection, that anv of our dear girls are fellow-pilgrims in the path 4* t2 MEMOIR OF of glory ; and 1 may indeed congratulate you on hav- ing your eldest child a follower of the blessed Savi- our, as the influence over the younger ones may be great. We will feel the loss of Miss Lundie's steady example ; much as the sight of a school companion, reading her Bible, and walknig in the commands of God, has more effect, I think, than the precepts or example of teachers. There is one thing which vexes me about Mary, — a degree of untidiness, and want of activity about such things as she considers of minor importance, but which I consider of great value to a woman, — putting on her clothes firmly, keeping her drawers neat, &;c. She is a little im- proved in these respects, and we hope will be much more so, before she leaves us." This, the only fault which reached her parents' ears, during her stay in London, would, from its trifling nature, be unworthy of notice, but for two reasons: — 1st, It shows, that the picture drawn is designed to be impartial ; and, 2d, We shall see that, in later years, when domestic occupations, which she always considered of " minor importance," became duties, she gave herself to them with zeal and diligence. With that dear friend whose house was her homq during vacations, a constant correspondence was kept up at Kelso, and over her letters are dispersed re- Hoarks and information of all descriptions. For ex- ample during her sojourn at the first school, Mrs. E. fca^s Mary shines among her school-fellows with meer radiance ; she is a humble, but dignified young person. # # * j think Mary has im- proved generally. * * « gj^^ j^^^g jj^jg^ learned a great deal of that kind of experience whic u is absolutely necessary for getting through this world, and docs not now speak of what she considered hard- ships, when she first went to school. Her sense of divine things seems to be as deep as when I first con- versed with her ; and this I esteem a great blessing MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 43 considering the distractions of scliool, and the trifling and folly of girls at all schools. She appears to be conscientiously attentive to the best things ; and I trust that such an example as hers may prove a bles- sing to others in the school. « « * » Our dear girl is indeed a very lovely young woman. She excites admiration, and the greatest interest in all our circle, and yet seems quite insensible to it. We shall grieve, indeed, when the time comes for her return to Scotland." The impression derived from a re-perusal of Mary's letters from school, is, that she exercised conscien- tiousness in her endeavours to improve all her studies, accompanied by a considerate reluctance to put her parents to expense, and a modest concern lest they should not be satisfied with her attainments. For ex- ample, " Everybody thinks it would be a great pity for me to give up singing, Avhich I greatly prefer to any other accomplishment ; but if you think it too much, of course 1 shall be quite willing to drop it. * * * I have done, I think I may conscientiously say, all I can to improve ; and I can assure you, at Miss Gordon's school, the solids keep pace with the adornments.'''' She adds, " So you think of sending Corie to Glas- gow College. I hope his principles are sufficiently formed to make it safe for him to leave his dear home, for a scene in which he cannot fail to encounter temp- tations, to which he is unaccustomed. The peace of God is the only anchor to keep the mind steady in the midst of them. If my being away, dear mother makes it more difficult for you to part with him, and if he will lose by not going this year, let me como home at Michaelmas." To her brother she wrote while at college, — • ^'■London, January 29, 1831. • • • " You, as well as myself, are se 44 MEMOIR OF parated from my dear home. I felt it much at first, but these among whom I have been placed have proved kind and tender friends ; and I presently found that I was no longer a stranger. I hope, dear Corie, that your sojourn in Glasgow may be as happy as mine in London. * * * What are you reading in, English, Latin, and Greek ? My acquaint- ance with the last named old language is at an end ; but I still think of Latin with affection, and some- times sigh for the days when I luxuriated among Vir- gil's bees and flowers, or mourned for Dido's unhappy lot. But it will be more within my comprehension, if you tell me what works of English literature have lately interested you. I hope that you have time for reading, and that what you do read is calculated to improve your taste and understanding, and increase your knowledge. » * * ^^g y^^ learn- ijig mathematics ? and, if so, how do you like this study ? Some people are very fond of it, but I can- not say that that science ever haunted my dreams.* I have been reading Millman's Fall of Jerusalem, by way of relaxation. It is a beautiful poem ; some pas- sages transported me from school, and every thing else, till I fancied myself in the midst of the falling streets, or standing, with the rescued Miriam, by the calm moonlight at the ' fountain of night.' I have read, last half year, five volumes of Turner's History of p]ngland, a most interesting work. 1 think you would be pleased with it. It does not confine itself 10 what passed in cur own isle, but gives a clear view * AllucJinjr to a family anecdote of an uncle of past (renera- tions, who, when a si ideiit, had spent the hours, till lon^ past midnight, in unsuccc^soul endeavours to solve a prohieni (which liis jjrofessor had done before him, during the day,) and had re- tired to rest in despair. But, when he arose in the morning, he found the solution in his own handwriting, on his own de«k, proving that, in his dream, his mind had wrought out wliat hiA waking |)owers had failed in, and that ha had riseu iu sleep, and written it down. MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 45 of the state of other European nations. This is an advantage, as it helps us to form distinct views of what was going on in the different states, at one time. Arrangement, you know, is of great importance. A little knowledge, in my opinion when combined with it, is better than a good deal scattered confusedly through the pericranium. * * Dear mam- ma and papa must feel your absence very much. I hope they may not, in any way be disappointed in rae. I am sin ^ "^rely desirous to make myself useful in every respecv that I can. I feel that I ought, after their kindness in allowing me to remain so long at school where my energies have been more bent on improving myself than in benefiting others. " I hope, dear C, you do all in your power to im- prove in your pursuits. Perhaps you may not again have as much time for study. You are now far from 'Jiose who guided your early years ; but remember that the ever present God still sees all your deeds, and knows your thoughts, and will be your God even unto death, if you will be his son. give him your heart. My dear brother, a steady principle of love to him is the only sure protection from all those snares you may meet with. Let his word be your standard, and go not with a multitude to do evil. Per- sons brought up as we have been, have much to an- swer for. We have heard what it is to love God ; and, what is more, we have seen it exemplified in our dear parents, whose examples have been constantly before us. Your sister's prayer is that the God of your fathers may be yours for ever." Mary had already acquired a strength of judgment, which secured her against the misleading effects of adulation. While her love of approbation led her to bask in the purer sunshine of affection's smile, she early discerned the distinction between that and the oblique rays of selfish compliment. After describing a family to which ?he had been introduced, she ad- 46 MEMOm. OF ded, " Miss is, I ought to tell you, a great flat- terer. She complimented me extremely on a little foolish poem I wrote on the overturning of Mrs. 's writing desk. Happily I was aware of her propen- sity, and did not believe her." The early attention of mt^mbers of the other sex commonly create some excitement in the mind of a girl, — arousing the conviction of approaching woman- hood, and fanning either sentiment or vanity, accord- ing to the character of the receiver. The only no- tice to be found of such a circumstance in her case, is this, " That was a curious letter sent me by Mr. ; but as I showed it instantly to dear Mrs. E., she will mention it to you if it be necessary." Another little movement betrayed the generous and self-deny- ing character of her mind. When about to leave London, a small sum of money was sent, for her to expend in the way she liked best ; supposing that some collections of art or other exhibitions, might have been still Unvisited ; some favourite pieces of music unprocured ; or some pretty garment that took her fancy, which she might like to purchase. From this fund she did not make one acquisition for herself, ex- cept that of the pleasure of presenting gifts to every member of her beloved family ; and the affectionate travelling companion who accompanied her home, re- marked, that the expending of five pounds had never before afforded as much delight to an owner. MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 47 CHAPTER III, HER FIRST AFFLICTION. She had just completed her seventeenth year when sh\i returned to Kelso. The radiant joy and beaming love occasioned by her re-union to h#r family, her glad review of the dear haunts of childhood, her hum ble solicitude lest her attainments should fall short of the expectations of her parents, all exhibited the sim- plicity and meekness of her mind. Till the sense of novelty wore off, she was really uneasy lest the re- sult of her studies should prove far inferior to their expectations ; and repeatedly, after doing anything which exhibited the degree of her acquisitions, shfj said with an anxious expression, " Ah, I fear you are disappointed ;" or " you hoped, after so much pains, that 1 should have done that better." She instantly sought to occupy her attainments by communicating them to her juniors, and became of her own accord their preceptress in any thing or every thing that she could teach, and that they were willing to learn. She now, also, immediately took her place in the Sabbath school as a teacher, and by degrees found her way to the couch of the sick female, and was both acceptable and useful in her visits there. The only means that occur of showing how much her heart was interested in these engagements, is to quote a lew scattered sentences, selected from letters addressed to a friend in Kelso, a year or two after her tie to that place had been broken by the death of her father. " 1 am glad you think Christy sincerely loves the truth. Oh, I trust the Searcher of hearts has ac- 48 MEMOIR OF cepted her as a lowly follower of his. I think of the Sabbath school very often, and delight to remember both the time when I was your pupil there, and the period, short and precious to me, when I was permit- ted to try to lead a few dear girls to Jesus : how 1 should rejoice in being there again." — " It would be worth living for, if one could benefit but one immortal soul, — and why not 1 Let us try, seeking divine aid. Your constant aim it is, dear friend ; will you pray that it may be mine too." — " Do you remember, my dear friend, the promise that poor Betsy made me about not walking on Sunday, and not loitering in the streets ; and about continuing to pray till the new year ? I often wonder how she has fulfilled it, and should be very grateful if you would have the kind- ness to speak to her, and tell me what you think of her. Is she turning to Jesus, and learning the love which can alone shield her, and save her from temp- tation ? How is C. M. coming on? Does M. M. at- tend school now ? Excuse these questions, but I am anxious about the girls." — " You know how deeply in- teresting to us is all we hear of the efforts made for the good of the dear people at Kelso, and with all those efforts your name is most closely associated. God bless you, my dear friend in all you try to do for his glory. I often sigh to remember that I was removed from such employ, when daily becoming more inte- rested in it. My heart clings to the school, Jeany Ross, and others. There is far more peace and sa- tisfaction in living to be useful than in any thing else if the action spring from that animating motive, love to him who so much loves us." *' I used to think it strange that so many young ladies were in this re- spect so inactive. I was not then fully conscious how much I owed to my circumstances, as the child of a pastor ; or hovv much I owed to my beloved parents, who always had something ready for me to expend my eaorgies upon, and smoothed the way so nicely MARY LUNDIE DUNCAiN. 49 for me. It is difficult for me now ; removed from my own employments. I have not yet found others ex- actly to fill their place, and, Oh, it is painful to fear that one is but a cumberer of the ground. * * • I am surprised at having unconsciously written so much of myself, but you will forgive me. Will you pray that I may be enabled to see what duty is, and to do it. I shall feel thankful if you will, and for a larger and surer share of that peace that is only known when our God reigns supreme in the soul." These may give an idea of what engaged and inte- rested her most during her first year after leaving school. Her pleasures and sympathies may be also best explained by extracts from letters. During a visit to that faithful friend in Northumber- land, who always entertained for her a love all but maternal, and watched the development of her cha- racter with generous pleasure, she wrote as follows : *' Yesterday we went to W. to hear Mr. B.'s fare- well sermon ; and, as the carriage is small, I set out by myself like an intrepid damsel, and walked the distance, having received many directions which way to turn. All these, however, were unnecessary, for the stream of people set so strong in one direction, that it would have required some ingenuity to go wrong. I was pleased with the sight, they went along so quietly and soberly in their Sunday garb ; externally at least they are a set of respectable pea- santry. Every new situation suggests new thoughts, and I felt more the value of hearing the gospel preached, from having to make some exertion to attain it. I wonder if this feeling exists in its force with these who do so every Sabbath? Mr. B's. discour- ses were very impressive : there are few more solemn scenes than a pastor entering his charge, or bidding a last farewell to his people. * * * ^g keep early hours at night, and I rise at half-past five, and have a quiet morning before breakfast. Though 5 50 MEMOIR OF I cannot gain so much in the use of time as Elizabeth Sinitli, whose life I have just read, was so happy as to do ; I greatly value it, and do not like to let it slip I lly away." To the friend whom she then visited, she afterwards wrote during a severe family bereavement. " If we could learn to regard heaven as our home, we should be much more willing to part with our dear ones. It is but for a little while. His Father has called him to himself a little sooner than the rest of the circle to whom he was united in Christian love, and soon you shall meet him again in a land where sorrow and sighing shall ilee away. Yet the rest of life's jour- ney must be trod without him, and often will the re- membrance of what you have lost send a pang to your heart. Oh, dearest cousin, may all of you feel that there is a fulness in Christ to supply any loss. May your steps be quickened in the heavenly way, and may the rich consolations of His love be your portion for ever." It will be concluded from all that is stated, that her mind was not only of a thoughtful, but of a pensive cast. There was, however, no languid sentimental melancholy in this. On the contrary she had much cheerfulness of temper, accompanied with great energy of character, was most readily excited to ac- tion, was in all good things strenuous in exertion be- yond her physical strength, which was never great, and no mind was ever more flexible to enter with plea- sure into the occupations of others, nor any counte- nance more easily kindled from a state of thoughtful repose to that of beaming love and sympathy. Her as|)irations, it is true, were after objects of which the happiest moments in the wilderness gi\=« but a feeble earnest. Her enjoyments were of the contempla- tive, not of the restless or noisy class ; and, from the deep views she was early enabled to take of sm. and eternal responsibility, a tinge, not of melancholy, bui of MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 51 sober reflection uncommon to her years, was almost inseparable. For some lime after she was first settled at home, far from the associates of her age and sex with whom she had formed friendship at school, and not fully embarked on a course of useful employment, her tender father would study her features, and then ask, with a half dubious countenance, " Do you think she is happy ?" The question could not, without some reservation, be answered in the affirmative then. This perishing world, with its perishing pleasures and disappointing friend.ships, is not calculated to fill an immortal mind. But now, it can be answered with- out a drawback. Her soul is satisfied in the presence of Him, at whose right hand there is fulness of joy for evermore. " Yes, she is happy." The banks of primroses, the groves, the woods, the rivers of her native place, gave zest to every other enjoyment, and no season of the year was void of charm to her poetic eye. These enjoyments will be best described in her poem called " A Reminiscence," written several years afterwards, which will appear in its place. Here we shall, for the sake of illustra- tion, introduce her address to the hawthorn, written for her babes a few weeks before her earthly journey was so unexpectedly terminated. " THE HAWTHORN " What faces bright with pleasure I How fast your footsteps bound I Come show to me your treasure ; What have my children found ? It is the hawthorn blossom, The fairest flower of spring ; It smiles on earth's green bosom, And nature's minstrels sing. How many joyful voices, Unite to bid it hail ! O ! how the bee rejoices, To Bcent it in the gale. 62 MEMOIR OF The birds in concert singing, The insects in the grass, The sunny waters ringing Low music as they pass ; Look at its pearly wliiteness, Faint streaked witii blushing red ; It comes, its clustered brightness Athwart the woods to shed. ! in my happy cliildhood, How well I loved its flowers ; 1 wandered through the wild wood, And sought its richest bowers. Beside the waters meeting,* The fairest Scotland knows, I gave it joyous greeting, And wreathed its blossomed snows. O ! that for you some future year. The hawthorn flower may shine ; To whisper of a home as dear, A childhood blest as mine." Such were her recollections of her early home which revive the images of the joyous group on those bright days, when they used to stroll, for hours toge- ther in the woods of Floors and Newton-Don, inhal- ing with all their faculties, whatever was refreshing to the senses, reviving to the spirits, and invigorating to the frame. Sweet and grateful memory of her childhood, which dropt the recollection of causes of anxiety or uneasiness, if any such there were, and tenderly cherished every tint of beauty, every spark- ling of joy, and every throb of affection ! Days which it enriches the mind to have once enjoyed, and whatever be its future engagements, the memory of which forms a part of its secret treasures. The bard spoke truly of his style of pleasures, when he compared them to '• The borealis race. Which flit ere we can point their place." • The confluence of the Teviot and Tweed. MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 53 But of this higher style, how erroneously would it be so said. These delights which, in drinking in the beauty, the variety, the lavishness of nature, embrace an adoring view of creating power and benignity, are more like the long glories of a summer sunset, which fade not till they are merged in the rising beams of a new day, — than the vanishing graces of the rain-bow or the aurora. Life may subside — the mortal eye may close on earthly beauty — but it will only be to open on a scene of surpassing glories, of which the fairest day on earth forms but a feeble type. In the autumn of her first summer at home, while staying on the sea-coast for the purpose of bathing, she made an excursion to St. Abb's Head, in company with her brother, and some amiable young relatives. A jetting, still preserved in her writing, of the con- verse of that day, affords a view of the state of her mind, and the subjects that interested her. " August 28, 1831. — Went to St. Abb's Head — a magnificent pile of rocks — and dined on a hillock, with a heathy mound for a table. Fancied the rocks like cottages and churches. Talked of the wisdom of God displayed in all his works — of the elegance of his mind, displayed in the formation of a flower, or a caterpillar, so perfect in all its parts, yet so mi- nute — of the variety of human knowledge — of the per- nicious effect of unrestrained imagination ; contrasted the grand, but unreal poems of Byron, with the sweet and natural strains of Cowper, — the one unfits the mind for real life, the other depicts objects in their true colours, imparts soothing to the heart, and ani- mates to duty : of romance ; — were some very ro- mantic adventure to occur to a neighbour, it would not so much excite our imaginations, as if we read a similar tale in the highly wrought language of a no- velist ; — there is in man a tendency to ascribe to what is not defined, something more than reality would au- thorize him to do. We saw two sea-birds bow to the 5* 54 MKStOIR OF waves ; and remarkeil, how much we might learn, did we accustom ourselves to derive moral lessons from all we see. — From those birds we might learn to bow to the difficulties of life ; and thus pass through them much more easily than we do, when we struggle against the appointments of our Father in heaven Read Douglas's thoughts on prayer. Talked of sub duing the temper ; and of the evil that is often done by Christians to their Master's cause, by giving way to impatience ; — of the world as a severe but useful judge of Christian conduct ; of Paul, as naturally of a hot and hasty temper ; but as becoming meek when he knew Christ. Let us begin when young, and build on that blessed foundation." But, " when joy is round us, grief is near," as the youthful poetess sung, when grief was known to her only in theory. Now she was to taste it in its bitter- ness. Her beloved father was removed from our sight, before she had enjoyed one year with him at home. Mary had been absent a week, and was re- turning in a smiling company of cousins, from an evening visit in Edinburgh, when the solemn message reached her, that her father had been translated in a moment, without leave taken of any of those he loved. He was gone where she could not follow him, and her tender heart was oppressed, and bowed beneath the stroke. Amongst the first expressions which betrayed the course of her mind, was that stated in the funeral service preached for herself, little more than seven years after, by her faithful friend and near relation, the Rev. Henry Grey of Edinburgh : — " God is now my only Father." " Happy she, who, in that dark hour, had still a Father, — one with whom she held solemn communings, and who wUl never die. Her sympathizing and weeping friends would have hung around and watched her in that long pang of wo, but she entreated to be left alone ; and when, after an in- terval, their solicitude brought them back, they found MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 55 lier still on her knees, with her arms extended on the bed. Her eyes were streaming, but her heart was deriving strength and consolation, even under that crashing blow, from Him who ' hath comforted his people, and will have mercy on his afflicted ;' yea, ' a mother may forget, yet will not He forget' those who trust in him. Tranquillized and sustained by this di- vine strength, she returned to the house of mourning ; and it was remarked by those who were spectators of that sorrowful return, that no loud cry or unseemly wailing, attended the meeting of the bereaved ones ; and that Mary's bearing was that of one long tutored in the school of discipline. She was deeply afflicted, but she held her peace. A meek fellow sufferer, she applied herself at once to sustain as a daughter, and to sooth as a sister ; and except when the flood swel- led so high that it would not be restrained, and she fled to solitude, to cast her care on Him who cared for her, she was the stedfast, considerate, and self- denying friend of all her sorrowing circle." Brief extracts from the outpourings of her heart in letters, will best exhibit her filial love, her grief, her faith, and her desires to improve under the dispen- sation. ''Kelso, April 21, 1832. " My Beloved Cousin. — The last sad scene is over. We have watched the dear remains being car- ried over the ground where he had so often walked on errands of mercy ; and we have to bless God for ten- der mercies mingled with his judgments. Sometimes I cannot realize the truth. I can scarcely feel that my own beloved father, the dear guide of my youth, will never more gaze on me with one of those fond sweet looks that are so deeply imprinted on our hearts. But oh, he is with Jesus ! He has received the end of his faith — light, and life, and love eternal ; and we would not call him back to this dreary world. Oh ! pray, as I know you have done, for my mother 56 MEMOIR OF * * If WO may but be enabled to lie at the foot of the cross, all will yet be well. * * Pray for me dearest cousin, that the selfishness of my wicked heart may be overcome, and that I may be enabled to live for her and my poor dears. " The sympathies of friends are soothing, and we have them. My own father was glad he had lived to see another spring, beautiful with what God has made for man. Alas ! 1 in my foolishness thought he might be spared for many. Oh ! not for him we mourn ; — the sweet spirit he manifested during the last fortnight of his life was such, that my beloved mamma says, it was the happiest she ever spent with him. Is not this comforting ? He has been obvi- ously fitting for heaven ; and I trust his last sermons may never be forgo tton by any of his people. They, as well as we, feel that they have lost a father. Oh for faith to say with my whole heart, thy will be done ! The book that was found by my father's side, had a mark in it at the close of a meditation on heaven ; and we suppose his last moments were thus employed. Sweet employment! How like a translation was my departed's death ! Dearest cousin, I could dwell all day on this delightful theme ; but there are mo- ments when I feel I have lost him. And oh, my mo- ther ! God bless her. When you come, you shall know more of what our Father in heaven has done for his rebellious children." To a correspondent near London : — '■ Manse of Kelso, May 11, 1832, " My very dear Friend, — The kind expression of your sympathy has been soothing to me at this sea- son of trial. You have been so lately tried with af- fliction, that you know well now to speak to those who are passing through the deep waters. We have, indeed, cause to rejoice while we mourn. He who MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 57 has been taken from us, has been removed from a world where a spirit, so tender as his, suffered much, to the presence of God, where he is united to the fa- mily of the blessed ; and he shall never more grieve for the sins and the sufferings of his fellow-men. None but those who knew him, can form an idea of what he did, and what he felt for others. We have found large packets of papers relating to slaves, chim- ney-sweeps, widows and orphans, and to many who never knew who it was who was so actively engaged to do them good. It is very pleasing to remember these things, and then to think that he is now an in- habitant of a land where it shall no more be said, ' I am sick ;' — that he who spent so much of his life in endeavouring to make others happy, is now effectu- ally removed from wo. Yet I would not appear to praise my beloved father. He was too deeply con- scious of his own unworthiness to have hope of eter- nal life in any other way than by Jesus ; and his hope built on this foundation was strong. But, my dear friend, had you known him whose loss we mourn, you would enter deeply into the feeling that he is sheltered. This was a predominant feeling for the first week. * * This is the season in which my dear papa was peculiarly glad ; and the sunshine and spring flowers he took such delight in, are all here still though he is gone. We check ourselves in feeling sad, that his favourite trees are covered with blossom, and he does not see them. Ah ! we walk fur too much by sight. Had we the eye of faith, we should never forget that he is in a region far more beautiful than this. He has reached a land which is adorned with the beauty of holiness. Could we re- alize the fulness of joy of which he is a partaker, I am sure our sorrow, now mixed with thankfulness, would be lost in it. But He who sent this affliction, designs that we should feel it ; and it is our prayer that we may walk more closely with him than before, 68 MEMOIR OF and, trusting more simply in Jesus, cherish a constant hope of being reunited to all whom we love ' in the Lord,' and more than all, of dwelling with the Great Shepherd, whose voice we have heard. " All you say of the blessedness of considering heaven as our home, meets a deep response in my heart. Let us, my dear friend, walk as ' children of the light,' waiting with humble trust for the full dis- closure of that light. If our best alTections are garnered up in heaven, the summons to leave this earth will not be unwelcome. But I fear to deceive myself into tranquillity, while I have unmortified sin in my heart. Pray for me, my dear friend. I think I never knew before that my heart was so unclean. It was indeed a trial to me to be from home when my dear papa was called away, though even this was for good. But when I hear others speak of his words and his actions, so full of love for the souls of men, during the last precious week, I cannot but grieve that I too did not enjoy the privilege of being with him. * * " I owe you very many thanks for your truly kind letters, and for the advice contained in them. May I have grace given me to profit by this chastisement. Earthly comfort would be vain ; but it always does me good to have my steps urged onward in the narrow path. I need scarcely tell you that I sympathize deeply with you. I have felt for the last weeks more united in affection to those who are sorrowing, than to any others ; and I trust that our heavenly Father is making you feel that he is indeed a satisfying por- tion." " Manse of Kelso, August 11,] 832. " * * The mountains looked quite beautiful, and I gazed on them with great delight. My window looked towards them, and thus I could see the moon- light streaming on them at night, and the sun rising on them at early morning. I thought of my beloved MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 59 father — how deeply he would have enjoyed all the varied beauties of the scene. Ah my dear cousin ! I wi.sh I could always feel willing to be separated from him, for the remainder of my pilgrimage. I want more submission ; and I know you will join me in ■ praying for it. Last night I dreamt he was sitting in his own chair, and I was beside him, and my eyes were streaming with tears, and I was rejoiced that he was with us again. But it is foolish to relate a dream. I want to fix my affections more on the bright heavenly land he now inhabits, and on the Friend of sinners who, I trust, will welcome me, and all of us, thither. He welcomes the most unworthy, and this gives me hope." *' Berwick, September 22, 1832. " * * I know that one subject of your thoughts has been, our now scattered family. Ah ! my dear cousin, we have countless mercies to be thankful for ; only pray for me — what I feel I want — that a thank- ful heart may be added to all the rest. J — , B — , and I, left our home on Monday morning, the 17th ; and the Saturday night before, we accompanied our beloved remaining parent to the cloister where the mortal part of my now glorified father awaits the morning of the resurrection. There we mingled our tears ; and, I trust, the prayers that came from the heart entered in- to the ears of our Father in heaven. I felt it sweet to regard Him as my reconciled Father, and to look forward to the period that shall re-unite us to him we have loved and parted from. Mr. Baird preached on Sabbath. We felt the afternoon sermon very consol- ing. The subject was, " All things are yours :" and tie showed, that not only life and prosperity are the Christian's, but also, sickness, sorrow, and death, in- asmuch as they wean his heart from earth, and all work together to fit his spirit for glory. We felt that this trying season would indeed be ours, if we 60 MEMOIR OF made use of it, to give our hearts more entirely to God. In the evening four dear Christian friends joined us, and Archy Murray* came and conducted fami y worship. Thus passed our last Sabbath in Kelso ; and the next morning we were up betimes, and concluded our little arrangements, and then I went alone to take leave of several spots on the pre- mises, and at eight left the once cheerful abode, a scene of bustle, confusion, and* desolation." One occupation of the last Sabbath in Kelso, is mentioned in the " The Orphan's Stay," an article which Mary Lundie contributed to Mr. Ellis's Mis- sionary Annual, for 1835, containing the history of a young woman, who had been preserved through many years of peril and temptation, and was left on her death-bed, by her affectionate visitor, peacefully look- ing for, and hastening unto the coming of her Lord. From this elegant and pious biographical sketch, a sentence or two will describe her last visit ; but, be- fore introducing that, one of the early paragraphs may be acceptable, as descriptive not only of the feelings of the fatherless in general, but of her ovm deep emotions on that subject, even to her a tender one: — " But it is not outward dangers and necessities alone, that make the orphan the special object of the care of God. He knows the heart of the fa- therless, — the inward sickening of him who feels he has lost, what time cannot replace — who longs for the advice and tenderness of a parent — and weeps to find himself alone. To him the promises are as showers to the parched grass ; turning his eager gaze from cisterns that fail, and refreshing his soul ; for there is something in each of them suited to his wants. There is no burden that oppresses his heart — no regret for the past, — no anxious fear of the fu. ture, — that is not met by some word of benign conso. * Now a miraionary i i Tut jula, Samoan Idanda. MARY LUNUIE DUNCAN. 61 lation. God delights to be reminded of the mercy He has proffered, and does not weary of the orphan's ery; and this condescending love should raise our gratitude higher than even the stupendous evidences of creative might. The Psalmist felt it so, when he said, ' Extol him that rideth upon the heavens by his name Jah. A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in his holy habitation.' * * " I left the neighbourhood before her sufferings closed. It was on a Sabbath evening that I took leave of my declining friend. I found her seated in a large chair, supported by pillows, and looking as if all her strength was gone, yet so happy, that I could compare her to nothing but a feeble and confiding child, who entrusts himself without fear to a parent, whose love he has never thought of doubting. Her smile of welcome was more sad than usual, for she knew that we should meet no more on earth. She spoke of the quiet spot in the church-yard, that would soon cover all that remained of her ; and of the hope full of immortality that kept her heart from sinking. She pointed me, too, to the gathering-place of the church of the Redeemer, which was opening to re- ceive her, and to the short and quickly traversed space that might divide me from it. One of the last rays* of the evening sun darted into the room, and seemed to afford an earnest of that blessed meeting. Our sorrow was mingled with lively hope, and wc were glad that the sacred day was that on which we must part, till the dawning of a Sabbath without end. She expressed a desire that, as we had often united in prayer, we should continue to maintain this valued fellowship, by praying for each other at a stated hour of each day that was added to her life. This agree^ aient she never forgot. Some one entered the room, and I bid my sister in Jesus farewell, and saw her no more "* * Missionary Aonual. p. 183 62 MEMOIR OF This was the " dear Jcany Ross," alluded to in a letter already quoted. She finished her weary jour- ney shortly afterwards, saying with her last sigh, " He that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out." And now, in that glorious region unexplored by living man, they who by concert prayed for each other daily for a time on earth, are united in a chorus of ceaseless praise : — " Worthy is the Lamb that was slain." IIAB.V LUNDIE DUNCAN. 63 CHAPTER IV BTUDIES AND OCCUPATIONS IN EDINBURGH. From Berwick she conveyed to their new home in Edinburgh, the young brother and sister of whom she had charge. In common with her family, she droop- ed like a transplanted tree, and was rather disposed to be occupied about the past, than to feel capable of exertion in her new scene. Very few letters seem to have been written during that year. Amongst the few within reach, there are constant allusions to her birth-place and her parent ; unmurmuring, but touch- ing regrets, which belonged to the tenacity and ten- derness of her nature, and which are not incompati- ble with submission to the Divine dispensations. To her maternal friend in London, she mentioned the vi- sitation of cholera, which spread terror and grief through Kelso, during the autumn of that year, and said, " A day of fasting was held, to implore the re- moval of the pestilence. I do hope the town may derive lasting benefit from this visitation. Had dear papa been in this vale of tears, how lively an interest would he have taken in the suflferings of his people! I can sometimes rejoice that he can no more be sub- jected to the sorrows that are, in a greater or less degree, the portion of every child of Adam. Ah, my dear friend, it is sweet to think that, whatever may be our alternations of pain and pleasure, he is in pos- session of the happiness that arises from dwelling with, and being like his Saviour. I sometimes pause and ask myself, what improvement has resulted from ail our heavenly Father's dealings with us during the 64 MEMOm OF past months? It has been small indeed; but He who sent sorrow lias, I trust, sent a blessing with it, and taught us more, that He himself is the source of all real enjoyment, and that without His presence no peace can be found. We often receive messages from our poor and sick friends, some of whom will probably soon be removed to a better world. We ex- pect to-morrow to be partaker's of the Lord's Supper, and you will believe our thoughts have been carried back to the last time when our departed one was with us at the table. But this is not enough ; — we must also look forward to the land where we shall again unite in praising our Saviour's love." * * While she remained at Berwick, she wrote tho first pages of a Diary. From this sacred document it is impossible to quote so plentifully as it would be for edification to do ; for till the hand was cold that used to turn the key upon it, no second eye had ever rested on it ; and it is obvious, from va- rious expressions which it contains, that she de- signed it entirely for her own private inspection ; yet every page proves the truth of what was said in her funeral sermon, — " The principle and spring of her actions lay in the conscience and in the heart. Hers was that genuine inwrought piety, which is primarily and chiefly conversant with Him who looks to the heart, — which labours to have the foundation deeply laid, so as to afford a secure sup- port for the superstructure, — which seeks not obser- vation, or rather dreads it, — yet which slums not the acknowledgment of the truth, and the confession of the Saviour, rwr swerves from the path of duty, to escape either censure or scorn." Diary. — "■Bcrvick, Sahhath morning, Sept. 23, 1832. — " I have sometimes regretted that seasons of pecu- liar encouragement or depression in the Christian warfare, have been permitted to pass away unre- MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 65 coided ; for, though some impression of sucli sea- sons may be retained, yet the returning engagements ot life, whether in the form of attractions or of cares, combine with my own evil heart to render it but a faint one. Perhaps were I, in a little while, to see in writing what had been the exercises of my mind, I should be surprised and ashamed at the quick change in the current of my thoughts. I find it difiicult to live, every day and every hour, as in the presence of God, though I know I cannot be com- pletely happy till I can thus live. I know perfection does not flourish on earth, yet how many of the dear people of God have given themselves soul, body, and spirit to him ! and how invariably have thay found their covenant God faithful to his promise, ' to be a Father to them, and to make them his sons and daugh- ters !' that I may be enabled to follow in their bright track ! What a happy being should I be, could I, like them, forsake all, and follow Jesus! He is my Saviour — He has given his very life for me. How can I, then, count any thing dear that may come be- tween my soul and him 1 I do trust that he who has given me the love I feel towards him, and taught me to wish for more, will satisfy that wish, and increase my spiritual appetite, that I may be capable of re- ceiving abundantly that love which is to the thirsty spirit like streams in the desert. I hope that, by sometimes writing down my different states of heart, I may be assisted in judging of my progress in the way to Zion. Yet I fear that snares encompass me, even in this trifling effort. Let me then ask God to make me faithful to myself, — to teach me to search the depths of my sinfulness, and not to be afraid to discover its extent. Let me never write any thing concerning myself that is inconsistent with the strict- est truth. Let me never be induced to flatter myself, and gloss over the true state of my mind. And may my Lord help me to be his child, and make this a 6* 66 MEMOIR OF means of rendering me more careful to cast out whal offends him, and to delight to do his will." Such was her object in keeping a diary, and she seems to have been enabled to fulfil it most strictly, in the simple truth with which she states her faults, and searches her motives, during the six years in which she occasionally resorted to it. Soon after settling in Edini)urgh, she took advan- tage of the plentiful means of mental culture which the place affords, and became absorbed in study, in concert with many others about her own age, some of whom were generous rivals in various objects of competition, and two, at least, became sincerely at- tached friends for life. Numerous essays remain, evidences of her industry, and advancing store of knowledge, and increased power of thinking. Such occupation always enlivened and cheered her spirits. She never seemed so happy as when put upon the exercise of her faculties in retirement. In a letter, written about this time, she said, — " We are very closely occupied at present, writing an essay on * the best training for female intellect,' — rather a difficult subject. You have heard of people who cry, ' Scraps thankfully received,' — I am somewhat in their case ; and hints thankfully received is my motto. Will you give me some ?" However earnestly engaged in other pursuits, spi- ritual progress lay nearest her heart ; and by-and-by, the friends who were accustomed to meet and read history, or prepare English compositions with her, sought to sanctify their other engagements, by meet- ing once in the week, for reading the Scriptures and prayer. In unison with such elevating com- munings was the increase of lAMievolence to all the human race. Her diary exhibits many examples of ardent philanthropy, generally terininating in purposes of action, as well as of devotion. The following extract may reveal, to the friends of the MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 67 negro, by what secret ministrations they have been enabled to persevere, and have not fainted in a pro- lonjj^ed course of trial and discouragement : for doubtless many a faithful soul, that could neither speak in tlie senate nor plead on the platform — that had neither silver, gold, nor influence — did, like Mary Lundie, bear the wrongs of those suffering tribes, and that continent in ruins, and the strength, zeal, and perseverance of their friends, on their hearts, to the footstool of Mercy. " March 22, 1833. — We have been lately mucJj in- . terestod in the emancipation of slaves. I never heard eloquence more overpowering than that of George Thompson. I am most thankful that he has l)een raised up. O that the measure, soon to be pro- posed in Parliament, may bo effectual ! What can / do for my oppressed brethren ? C)nly one thing — pray for them. This will be regarded on high. How sweet it is to be able to tell our desires to God, and to know that, though our influence among men may be next to nothing. He will not despise our cry. Let me then bear poor Africa on my heart, and seek a speedy emancipation for her sons, not only from the rod of the oppressor, but from the bonds of iniquity. Jjong have they dwelt in a night of darkness and sighing, but their cry has entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth. O may they now be rescued by his power !" Diary. — " March. — I have been thinking of the events of last spring. It is nearly a year since my beloved father's death, and all this time he has been praising his Saviour with fulness of joy, while we have still been occupied with the fleeting things of time. Has this affliction given me an abiding sense of the instability of earthly joys, and made me long more for that purer deligh , which is found in see- ing the Lord face to face . Has it made mt- walk more circumspectly, and devote myself more com- 68 MEMOIR OF pletely to my God ? Has it made me feel the value of that Idood, wliich has washed away sin, and taken the sting from death ? O ! I thought at first that I could never more fancy this world my home, nor forget how fast it must fade from my view ; but sometimes I have forgotten this. How lovely hea- ven would appear, did I always think of it as my resting-place, and employ my thoughts on what would prepare me for going there ! My heavenly Father sees all my sms, and the coldness of my heart — iny readiness to forget the Rock whence I Avas hewn, and to live and act as if my daily du- ties might be performed without his aid, or a refer- ence to his glory. O ! that he may help me to live to him, to watch my heart, and to be so humbled by my sins, as to receive gladly my Saviour's offers of guidance, and to feel that ' without him I cannot go.'" " April 28th. — I was nineteen two days ago. How long 1 have lived to little purpose ; I am so ready to miss opportunities of doing good, and to make some excuse to myself for it ! Well ! this year of my life is gone ; but let me try every day that is added to my time, to serve God myself, and seek to make others do so too. 1 feel that I have not tried as I ought, to be useful to E .* Conscience has often told me this, and yet I have waited for a ' con- venient season.' Surely this is one, for the commu- nion is drawing near, and she is not yet a candidate for admission. Let me, then, no longer listen to sug- gestions for delay, but, in our walks, turn coversalioa heavenward, as those should do, who hope to win a lasting home there. I have also neglected, far too much, the endeavour to make my dear little sister seek her vSaviour, and I know that my conduct has been at times such as did not become a disciple of Christ; therefore, I fear 1 have injured her, by raak- * One of her fellow-students. MARY LUNDfE DUN'CAX. 69 i»g her think that it is not so requisite to walk with unspotted garments. O ! may I be enabled, in pati- ence, to possess my soul, — to behave wisely to her, and, both by precept and example, win her to my Shepherd. I have been looking back on the way by which he hath led us. His dispensations have come in love and wisdom. Boston says, if the wood de- signed for the building were able to choose, very likely no iron instrument should come upon it ; but, in this case, it would never be fit to form part of the building. So we, if left to choose, might pre- fer to be without sorrow ; but should we then, un- humbled and full of earthly prosperity, be fit for heaven? Happily, we are not left to choose, and God sends sorrow to make us like our Sat'iour. It is well — he comforts us — he hath done all things well. May I hope, then, that I am more firmly rooted and grounded in Icrve ? I am vile, but I have known and believed the love that God hath to me ; and, since he has taught me this, he will teach me more. ! to be like my Saviour, and part with what he does not approve — to see, in its true light, the insufficiency of the creature — and to say, from my heart, ' Whom have I in heaven but thee ? and there is none on earth that I desire beside thee !' I must go and read with the boys, and let me not forget both to pray and to try to do them good." Diary. — "June 9. — I think that, during the last six weeks, while my dear friends have been in town, 1 have gone out too much, and mamma has felt the want of one who could sympathize in her feelings. This pains me to the quick, and I can hardly write for tears. O ! my heavenly Father, when shall I be wise ? When shall I faithfully do my duty to her, and all of them ? Not till I have left off considering self, and thought only of glorifying thee, by being useful. * * * When we were in our own home, and my beloved father was with us, it was not thus. 70 MEMOIR OF Dear mamma has lost what slie cannot regain, and no wonder she feels sad ; and when she looks at me, feels the contrast sadder still. Yet surely I, loving her as I do, bettor than any thing in this world, ought to be a comfort and help to her, and I wish and pray to be so. God ! I am ignorant ; wilt thou make me holy? and let me walk softly, lest I lose the little spark of grace which I trust thou hast kindled in me. I want to learn prompt obedience. When I was a little child, I never thought I knew as well as mamma ; but now I at times feel inclined to take my own way. Why should I be so proud ? Let me learn humility ; this is my best wisdom. My God piuts me precisely in the cir- cumstances where my corruption shall be shown me ; and I should be thankful for it ! Ah ! how unliko the children of heaven, are the thoughts that fdl my heart. I want to glow with love to all, so that I shall forget myself, and be happy if I can, in any degree, make them so. And why should iliis appear so diffi- cult ? I have a Friend on high, who knows my vile- ness and weakness, and will forgive me, and help me too. He renews his forgiveness every day. May I live near to Him, and may every thorn tha pricks me, make me look up to the beautiful city, where is a tree of life without a thorn, and a morning without a cloud !" This extract is given as an evidence of her extreme tenderness, both of conscience and of affection. The young heart is not easily convinced that an affliction is irreparable, and to be endured with what meekness and faith may be bestowed. If she enjoyed herself with friends of her age and character, and returning met the same wan, enduring countenance that she had left, she reproached herself, as if she ought to have been doing something to alleviate feelings which were quiie beyond her reach ; and because her ardent txiYcc- tion would have rendered it the joy of her life to fdl that place, which the Divine dispensation had made MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 71 empty, when she found that was not within her power, she accused her own natural cheerfulness, as if its indulgence were selfish. "/«/y 1. — Dr. R 's two days' visit has been pleasant. He gives a useful turn to conversation, and has been a successful minister. Some instances that he related, of remarkable conversions, showed me the great efficacy of faith and prayer. He asks and expects great blessings, and he receives them. It is strange, that, when I am asking for quickening grace for myself, or conversion for those I love, I often think of the answer as a distant thing, and do not seem to know that He who hears me is ready to give far higher things than I have ever asked. If I remember this, my prayers will be much quickened. I fear to deceive myself by kneeling with a wavering heart. My dear uncle preached yesterday on the evil of wavering. May the Lord help me to ' ask in faith.' Dr. R told us much of the tenets of the Rowites, which I heard with deep interest. It is mysterious that the flower of the church should thua be suffered to wander. May this make me very vratchful over myself. Oh ! may I be thankful that, from my infancy, I have been taught the ' good old V ay,' and while I keep clear of those errors, may I bt preserved from indifference, that clogs and benumbs the soul." ''July 14. — Ruthwell. — I arrived on Friday, and hive been charmed with the beauty of the grounds, and cheered by the kindness of my friends. The Sabbath has come, and I am once more spending that fiacred day in the country. The scene is bright and calm, and all nature seems to praise Him to whom it owes its being. Strange that my heart should be so out of tune, so little in unison with this sweet and imiversal concert !-^I have not, of late, made proper use of my Sabbaths. At Kelso, my class, and til.- ieautiful scene I delighted to look upon from ray 72 MEMOIR OF attic, gave elasticity to my spirits, and I felt that it was a happy thing to seek to be useful, and to bless the Giver of so many pleasant gifts. But in Edinburgh, I felt at first such deprivations so much, Khat a feeling of discomfort — discontent, I fear — stole on me, and made many moments dark, which might have been very precious. how sinful was this ! I felt it so at times, and strove against it. My God ! may I live on thy word, and then I shall not be so unprepared to lay hold on thy blessings as they flow ! I have not felt the ordinances of God's house very precious, nor been able to say, ' How amiable are thy tabernacles !' and, worse than all, I have not grieved at this. I know these tilings are so, but I do not rouse myself to make them otherwise. This verse comforts me, ' He who hath delivered my soul from death, will he not deliver my feet from falling V Yes, he will. May I not quench his Spirit. I feel some- thing of my old buoyancy of spirit. But this is no proof of nearness to God, for while I have been sit- ting in the cottage porch, trying to raise my heart to Him, all sorts of foolish thoughts have passed through my mind. I am sin — all sin. But surely the grace of God, which is sufficient for rae, shoidd ere this have been exerting a stronger power in my soul. My days, this week, have been idly spent, for I have not sought God in my occupations ; and no wonder I am all wrong to-day. I have been considering how I could do good to others, and have not attended to the first step to it — watchfulness over myself. Ex- ample does more than any thing, and I can only be made to walk uprightly by keeping close to God. O God ! whom I have so often forgotten, pity and help me ! Thou art Love, and wilt not cast rae off. I am thifte — save rae. Do with me whatever thou wilt ; but do not let me forget iliee any more. Leave me not, or I shall perish. Thou art God — Oh ! rule in my heart." MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 73 " July 21 . — Another week has fled, and I have been strangely tossed in spirit. Now that is passed — but ! how much sin has there been in all parts of my conduct. I once thought of writing it down — but I am not sure that it would be to profit. I have had pain in my spirit, and not sought relief in God, I knew not that I had so much folly about me, but every new situation in which I am placed brings out new sins. May God lead me out of temptation — Oh may I be quite wiUing to be so led. He knoweth what is for ray good, and bringeth good out of evil. If I lived on ' manna,' I should not stop for husks." "July 25. — Last night we went to the high part of the road to see the English coast, which was spark- hng in sunshine, while passing clouds cast deep sha- dows on parts of it. The cliffs stood out in beautiful relief, and the summit of Helvellyn appeared at a dis- tance beyond Skiddaw. It was a scene never to be forgotten, and excites a longing to be a hermit on the side of one of those peaceful hills. But storm and mist shroud them sometimes, and they are not often so lovely as then they were. Let them act on me as a similar scene did on James Montgomery, ' yonder summits far away,' &c., — and ' beyond the tomb,' let me look for perfect peace." "July 26. — The fast day. I have been trj'ing to seek my God. ' My best desires are faint and few,' but he will help me. I have to mourn for half-heart- edness. This was my complaint when I wrote the first sentence in this book ; it is so still. Present things have far too great a hold on me, and eternal things dwindle from my view. But God is showing me that all below is vanity, and I seem less and less to look for perfect happiness on earth. I have been in varied circumstances, and each had its peculiar trials, and in all I have found my only help in God. But oh, how much more hopefully can I seek for 7 74 MEMOIR OF peace and comfort when the trial is of His sending, than when it is of my own making! He sees my heart and will empty the vanity out of it, and make me such as he approveth. I want to be all his own. Often I blame my actions, and deeply too, when the only way to correct them is to purify the source. I have not truly sought that God should direct my daily steps. I have lived away from him, and no wonder that I have offended him. I have not been instant in prayer. I have been called by his name, while I obeyed not his law. He says, ' return and I will heal your backslidings.' May I do so this very day — and as, when Daniel confessed, Gabriel dew swiftly to him with a message of mercy, may my Father pardon me, and let me feel myself pardoned, that I may henceforth walk in newness of life. How precious is Christ ! When I think of my sins, he is my only hope, and worth all the universe. May I love him more, not in name only, but in deed and in truth." Such were a portion of her fast-day exercises, in the country, surrounded by Christian friends, whose converse might have prevented the depth of her heart- searchings, had she not been resolved on converse with God. About this period, the germ of that at- tachment was formed, which gave a bent to the remainder of her life. Acting as a disturbing force, on the divine love which was the master attraction of her heart, it distressed and unsettled her ; and ex- plains the quarrel she had against herself in this extract, and also in the following : — " I have every thing here to make me happy ; but what avails it, when the mind is disordered ? May I act consci- entiously ! Oh, that 1 could live as seeing Him who is invisible. W hy should I write this wish, and yet not pray with all my heart that it may be realized. Help me, my King. Save from sin one who is ran- somed by the blood of thy Son." Again, a 'ew days MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 75 after, she writes, " Were I sure that what I do meeis with my Lord's approval, I should be happy. Sin is mixed with every thiui";. May I learn to prove my heart and reins. The Lord weigheth the spirit and teacheth us to weigh our own too. Why then is it that I so little seek his guidance ? Peace is far from the heart that seeks it not at his throne." The next ex'ract, written when she returned home, and happeiied to pass a few days there alone, shows the continuance of the same internal conflict. " September 1. — I am yet more puzzled about the state of my feelings. May God direct me, and for- give me ! I have a weight at my heart, when I view it in some lights. Let my mouth be stopped, and vanity and self-indulgence never more be given way to. I am solitary, may I use my time to probe my heart, and, above all, to seek the Lord, whom I have lately too much forgotten." "September 8. — I have been trying to draw nigh to God, but find it more difficult than before. I am sick of myself and my wayward heart. I want to examine myself, yet fear to do it thoroughly. There are so many things mingled in me that must be disentangled. I do wish my Lord to be my portion, yet my con- versation is trifling, and to little purpose. How long, oh how long, shall this disquietude of soul rest upon me ? I do not wish for peace, if the re- verse is good for me. But repentance I must seek, and it is madness to go on thus. I must pour out my soul before God ; yes, all its workings, must be made known to Ilim. Leave me not, my King, to wander in the dark without a guide to point my way — give me power to see whither thou wouldest lead me, and oh! be my earthly path what it may, let me not lose sight of the light at the end — the light of the eternal city." Poor humanity ! How strong in resolve ! How feeble in execution! When David exclaimed, " unite 76 MEMOIR OF my heart to fear thy name," he was probably suffering under similar experience. The infirmity which dis- ables the mind from occupation by more than one object at a time, and, in yielding strength to one affec- tion, enfeebles another, is one of the burdens under which the " new creature " groaneth and travaileih in pain ; and even they who " have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan within themselves, waiting for the adop- tion, to wit, the redemption of their body." But " we are saved by hope." The conflict endures but for a time. Our guide does not shelter us from it, but having tasted its bitterness, the soul is taught more clearly to discern, and more simply to seek sancti- fication in all its attachments. Blessed be his name that this is attainable, and that the more the heart is expanded in such love as becometh a Christian, the stronger evidence it possesses of having passed from death to life. For a season, poor Mary was in heaviness, but the " King " to whose holy dominion she so fervently renewed her submission, guided and consoled and taught her, so that she enjoyed peace with Him, while she exercised, in healthful vigour, all the social and domestic affections. At this period, we find a jeu d' esprit, descriptive of high intellectual enjoyment, in the society of choice friends, which shows how much alive her soul was to the charms of society. "an evening at no. 11. " September 10. •Oh ! is tliere a time when enchantment descends Like lifjht from a spiiere that is brighter than thi.s? When the soul's warm emotion so dazzlinfjly blends, That they seem but as one, — the sensations of bliss ? Tifl the hour of the evening when daylight is fled. And with it the toils that awakened witii day ; An.» the tapers, that glow in the drawing-roo.n, shed Their reflection on faces still brighter than they; MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. T7 When the mtiu from his desk, and the boy from his book. And the ludy from thousands of matronly cares, And the maid from her work and her lone little nook, Have cast to the wind every trouble of theirs: And he to whose genius a senate might bow, The champion of right, to Immanity dear, Forgets the ])roud laurels tliat wave o'er his brow. And gilds like a sunbeam the moment of cheer : And wit flashes out in electrical spark Till the sad and the sprightly acknowledge the spell, And feel that if prospects at times appear dark, Such moments of rapture repay them full well : And eye answers eye, in the sparkle of mirth, Reflecting the dance of the heart in its ray. And the chorus of laughter swells loud round the hearth, And the past and the future are lost in to-day. And more I might add — but the deep doleful chime. Of midnight steals o'er me and breaks on my dream. Go — whisper to those whom I love, little ryhme, ' Keep a place for your songster at evening's fair gleam.' " While still alone, she received a visit from the Rev. S. H. C , D.D., of New-York,— a man whose brilliant and erratic genius, warm affections, and fervent piety, have kindled admiring sympathy in many less ardent and less intellectual characters than hers. It is he to whom allusion is made in the next extract. Diary. — ^'■September 22. — I have been at prayer, but my heart wandered often, and now 1 do not feel at peace. The work is God's, so it cannot fail — but how very long I am in becoming completely His. I will not cease to beg him to make me so. He is my God, and will show me the emptiness of earth, and the reality of eternity. " I hope often to pray for Dr. C . May a spark of his fervent spirit linger among us! May we be revived, as his church has been, and in the place where an all-wise God has cast my lot, may I 78 MEMOIR OF consecrate myself to him ! One great sin is, that the remembrance of past folly, instead of making me pray and strive for newness of life, makes me gloomy and, ^l fear, has an effect on my deportment to my dear family. Now, adding one evil will not cure another. Just let me seek oneness of aim and mo- tive. O for a sense of sin forgiven ! Let me seek it on this holy day." " On Saturday, 11th, Dr. C mentioned the half formed intention of the Assembly of the United States to propose a correspondence with ours. lie told us also of the invitation sent by the New- York Uni- versity to Dr. Chalmers to lecture there six months. On Sunday, his last prayer was, that He who walked between the golden candlesticks would be with us still. On monday, he spoke of pnuematology, the science of spirits, and said that an idiot's soul might be noble when freed from the encumbering bodily or- ganization. We visited Knox's pulpit and the Castle. He looked with the eye of a republican on the re- galia ; and, on leaving the Castle, said, he thought it well to visit such things, for they taught us of how little value they are, and how much nobler are the objects that fdl the Christian's mind, than any earthly splendour." One, who has read Sir Walter Scott's account of the soliium convocation, and the breathless emotion at the opening of the ancient chest in which the regalia of Scotland had lain so long concealed, — and of his ever after regarding one of his daughters with increased respect, because her mind was worked up to such a pitch that she nearly fainted at the scene, cannot fail to observe the contrast between his mind, and that of the American visiter. However much of just regard for lawful institutions, and of regret about departed honours inhabited the breast of the native patriot, had the view been extended from the perish- ing earthly splendours to the crown of glory that MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 79 fadeth not, the emotion experienced on that occasion would have been tempered down to a degree not far above that of the republican Christian. " On leaving the armoury, Dr. C said, he longed for the time when swords should be beat into pruning-hooks ; and he believed there were indica- tions of the approach of that time. He spoke of an attempt to settle disputes by writing instead of force. At seven, I attended a prayer-meeting where Dr. C spoke of revivals, and I longed for an effusion of the spirit on my own poor heart, and all around me. May I never forget that night." "Wednesday, 18. — Mamma came home at last, and Dr. C drove to the door an hour after. He explained the 5th of Romans. He held up his Greek Testament, and said, ' Out of this blessed book I have derived all the ligiit I possess. Why do my countrymen trust so much to each other's printed expositions, and not seek to learn for themselves from this, the pure spring V I felt, while he spoke with a glow of delight of the Bible, that I had never prized it, nor understood it as I ought. I have read it like other books, not impressed with the thought that every word of it is God's, and therefore must be strictly the truth. No expression of the Holy Spirit's choosing is without its purpose ; it is always the very one that will express precisely and fully the meaning intended. Let me carry this thought with me when I read tlie Bible. But I cannot tell all the gracious things Dr. C said. His heart is full of Christ, and thence his mouth speaketh. And am I a member of the same family ? Ah, how unlike him in spirit ! Then, I am also unlike Jesus, of whose spirit he has but a small portion, and whose mo- del he doubtless feels that he imitates but imper- fectly. to yield all to him ! I want to be His, and I know I cannot be sin's too. Take all my heart, my Saviour ! Let me crucify the flesh in 80 MEMOm OF every way, and love thee entirely, and my peact shall be as the morning. After a hasty dinner, we went with Dr. C to the Temperance Coffee- house, and soon tlie coach whirled liim away. Not 80 the impression his visit had made. Long, long may it rest on my heart, and may his singleness of purpose, his constant occupation of mind, his love to God, which is the source of his actions, and the true secret of all the excellence of his character, be my example !" A memorial like this, must be encouraging to the ser- vants of Jesus, who, as they move through the world, endeavour to leave a sweet savour of their Master be- hind them. How many, from coldness or backward- ness, put aside their belter thoughts, supposing them to be unwelcome to those with whom they converse, who might, if in love they would try, refresh many a disciple in their course, and honour their Lord in do- ing so. To her maternal friend in London, Mary wrote of the same gentleman in a similar strain. " I was never five minutes in his company without hear- ing something useful, and have had great delight in retracing all that he told me. I fear his mind is too active for his frame. Though his tour has caused a temporary cessation of his pastoral labours, it has not brought him rest, for wherever he goes, he seeks to do good ; and, during the week he passed here, he preached twice, and once addressed a meeting. The latter was on the cause of revivals, and made us grieve that so often the heavens above us are as iron, and the earth as brass, while showers of grace are falling in another land. Dr. C visited Mr. Douglas of Cavers, and my little brothers had the good fortune to be his companions, for he met them at Kelso and took them with him. He went over the manse grounds, which are dear to him for his friend Brucn's sake. To-morrow he will embark for a home of which he speaks with greater enthusiasm than any man I have MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 81 heard. It is delightful to see one wnose soul is so engrossed with mighty things, yet so full of fireside charities." Diary. — " October 4. — Took J. and B. to a mission- ary meetijig. They were much interested ; and, next evening, when I told them of my missionary box, and that Mr. Knill gave away Bibles which cost a ruble each, B. threw his arms around me, and whis- pered, ' Sister, I will give you a ruble.' Dear child, may he love the book he wishes the heathen to have !" " October 31. — Fast day. I have a great deal to do to-day in my heart. I have tried to review what have been my chief sins this summer, and find that sin is in every thing, yet I do not feel it as I ought. When I was suflered to commemorate Jesus' death, I did not derive nearly the good I ought from it. I did not set myself stedfastly to seek him, and am ashamed when I remember how very little effect the holy or- dinance had on me. I have sometimes made the ex- cuse that some of the clergymen were not very im- proving. But I had the ' footstool' to go to, and have cause to grieve that I sought my pleasures more from the nothings of time than from the love of God. I find that vanity helped to ensnare me. It pleased me to be admired, — and though the temptations are not near me now, is vanity weaker ? 1 often feel it rising, and though some other sins have more power over me, it has some share in my evil heart. Let me put it down. Then, self-indulgence was one of my great sins. I did not look so much whether a thing was right, as whether it pleased me ; of course, there I got wrong. Against this let me watch. Oh! that I could un- weariedly watch, and hate the things that wound my Lord ! The motives of my heart were crooked, be- cause other things than his will entered into them. Since then, my conscience has felt burdened. Peace has often been far from me ; and, when I have felt unhappy, I have not acted to mamma, or any one as 82 MEMOIR OF I our ht. My heart, and thence my brow, have been clouded. I have been most cheerful when I forgot! Oh ! this is a false cheerfulness. I warn to be made clean every whit. When God pleases, I want solid peace. I will seek him till I find him, his grace as- sisting me. My chief concern is with eternity. Thither each day hath borne its record, — and how shall I stand when it is all vividly recalled to me at judgment ? Oh ! Jesus, give me thy righteousness ! It was only last Sunday that I was thinking over some of the past, wherein I knew I had erred ; and strange ! it was with a kind of pleasure. Thus, I nearly lost an excellent sermon, and ' sinned in the recesses of the temple.' If one of my friends knew my heart, and especially the want of uprightness in my train of thought, I could not look at that one. God knows all — give me, my God, the grace of repentance. I want to draw nigh to thee to-day ; to begin anew to check sin in every shape — to love thy law — to be a ' servant of Jesus.' I am cold and vile, and have only sins to bring, but she of old to whom thou for- gavest much, loved much. Let it be so with me. Let me, at least, love thee indeed. Do what thou wilt with me. I should destroy myself, if left to my- self, but leave me not. Let this fast day be one long to be remembered as one wherein, in sincerity, and truth, I yielded up my mind to run in thy way." " November 9. — I have not been able to write about the exercises of the 3d. They were precious, and I renewed my cov-enant with my God solemnly. Dear E — and I spoke of the delight of being 1 is children when we came from his house. May that day be long remembered as her first open avowal of her love to Christ, and may she belong to him for ever ! I thought of my sins, but hope in my Saviour, and trust he will strengthen me to keep my vow, and make me feel my union to him. I thought of the dear friends MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 83 in London who were engaged thus ; — it is a sweet bond." The laying open of these exercises so sacred and so secret, is like the harsh process of the naturalist when he saws in sunder a shell, whose external, polished, and uniform surface, gives no indication of the spiral column, with its many involutions, within. It is not done without thought or without effort ; but if the purpose had in view, in undertaking this sketch at all, is to be accomplished, it is by exhibiting the heart laid open before God, — the jealous search after secret sin, and the humble contrition for it. This was Mary's season of sorest conflict ; and it is much to be observed that, in the midst of it, she never lost her confidence that God would make a perfect work in her soul. The child-like simplicity of her love and trust is very touching, and may be traced to her hap- piness in having been awakened, through regenera- ting grace, at so early an age. Had she only a year or two before this time of trial given herself up to Christ; and acquired the habit of prayer, her conflict must have been sharper ! the former course of her thoughts would have acquired a fearful dominion over her, and she might have felt as if she were cast off from his presence ; but it was not so with her : she was still his redeemed one, with whose soul he had " been at charges" long before ; and she was assured tliat his purpose to sanctify her for himself could not change. " I am still his child," said the sweet mourner. — Happy they who surrender themselves to the Lord in youth. " They who are washed, need not save to wash their feet, but are clean every whit." It ought to be remarked also, that, while her own concealed uneasiness led her to imagine that her conduct was not what it ought to be in the family, she was comforting and helpful as a daughter ; and as a sister, she was tutoress, counsellor, or sympathizing friend, at all times. If her spirit was bowed down, her 84 MEMOIR Of brow was serene ; if her mind was anxious, her cov duct was uniformly mild and dutiful. At this period she was called to sojourn at Berwio, for some time, with an aged and valued relative, vrito required to be ministered to by younger hands than her own. Her diary while there, shows the same watchful disposition, the same mistrust of self, and aversion to the admission of little sins. Diary. — " Berwick, Nov. 14. — I have been living quietly here, and time slips through my fingers fast. My dear aunt seems to have comfort in my presrcnce, and I give up my own will, as much as I can, to hers. There is little outward temptation, but much from within ; and I fear lest I let time pass without the benefit I hoped to derive. Let me renew my cfl'orts. I have tried to employ my mind during my lonely walks on the best things. On Sunday, the 10th, 1 en- joyed a good deal of prayer, and remembered the pre- ceding one. But, for the last two days, ' the cage of unclean birds' has had more influence in my heart, and prayer has seemed less dear and less necessary. I can trust to no frame of mind : but this morning, when I read of Jesus' resurrection, I felt that I could trust him. 0, I am his, why do I, then, so often for get him ? To-morrow is the Sabbath. Is my heart in a Sabbath frame ? " Last niglit I commenced teaching Nancy. She is ignorant, indeed : may I be assisted, and made use- ful to her. I am very quiet here. I low strange is the propensity to look forward. My prospects are all misty and uncertain ; my retrospects lately painful. Shall I not, then, look back with repentance, and for- ward with submission, and seek grace for the present need ? May I make heaven my future, — the loveli- est bourne far, far, on which my heart can dwell !" "Friday, 2'J. — ^I have not this week been lively in secret prayer, and therefore I do not feel at peace. I have been much interrupted during the day, and have MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 85 sat late to do something for my mina. But thus my soul has suflercd ; for, by the time I went to prayer, 1 have been sleepy and luslless, so as to have difficulty in keeping myself up. It is dilFicult to watch the very point, which, if transgressed is wrong. I don't like to let my mind rest, — at least, not more than ne- cessary ; but I will try to improve the flying hours better, doing what I can in the day time, consistently with cheering my aunt, and obeying her little behests. I have thought much of dear F , in her little room betimes, seeking her Father in heaven, and com- mending herself, her friends, and the world, to him. How rich and ennobling is prayer, when we enter on it with all our hearts. What can be so exalting to the mind, or fill it with such pure and heavenly thoughts ? Let me remember this, when I am poring, in spite of weariness, on something I am bent on finishing ere I retire. " There is another fault I am guilty of, — that of speaking too much, and loving to display my tiny conversational powers. I believe I wish to do good, in my intercourse with others ; but, when I begin to tell stories of Mr. Knill and Dr. C, I feel pleased at having something to say that gives pleasure and a little information ; and I have wondered to find my head in motion, and my tongue speaking with great animation to people wiser than myself. How con- temptible ! Should it not make me humble to think how vile I am in the sight of God ? Will nothing teach me \ Even when I am seeking information there is a solicitude not to seem ignorant, and an idea that this will make me seem wiser when I know it. Now, all this should lead me to secret prayer. When I think I wish glory to God, I find I am seeking it for myself. Let me pray for a new heart, a complete change, and seek to forget myself, and aim, in con- versing, to make others happy, and honour God. Let me try." 8 86 MEMOIR OF A poem, alliiJed to above, and dated December 12 1833, forms a suitable close to this year. " REMINISCENCE ON LEAVING KELSO. " There is a spot where memory loves to rest, — A scene whose iiiuige, pictured in my breast, Is twined with all that's beautiful and dear, Witii all that weeps uHection's mournful tear — My home ! — by the soft sunshine of thy glades, Thy daisied pastures, mixed with forest shades ; The gentle breeze, that fans thy waving tree ; By thy sweet wild-flowers, I'll remembers thee ! And thou, my native stream, whose waveless flow, Whether thou laugh'st in morning's roseate glow, Or spread'st thy bosom to the noontide beam, Or smil'st in beauty at the sunset's gleam. Art lovely still. — Bright stream, farewell to thee ! Thy silvery waters flow no more for me : No more for me the music of thy play. When lengthening shades proclaim the close of day. One hour there is, I've prized above the rest One halcyon hour, when thou wert loveliest : 'Twas when the day of rest was well nigh sped, And its sweet influence o'er my heart was shed ; When courting solitude, at balmy even, I sought for peace, in communing with heaven. 'Twas rapture then, to gaze on thee, fair stream. All sparkling in day's last and teuderest beam ; While the rich trees that graceful o'er thee wave, Were trembling in the golden light it gave ; And breezes stirred the incense of the air, As though some Spirit kept his Sabbath there ; It seemed, as if those deep and spacious skies, That kindled earth with their celestial dyes, Shot rays of glory from some heavenly clime, To bless the sabbath of the sons of time, Aud raise the soul, on contemplation's wing. To the pure source whence endless pleasures spring — A foretaste of that glorious land of light, Where those who love tlie Lamb shall dwell in robes of whit» MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 87 CHAPTER V, CORRESPONDENCE AND DAIRY. Diary. — "Edinburgh, Jan. 13, 1824. — Up at four to see Cornelius off. I felt sad when he set out in the dark and damp, and thought of his many disad- vantages in living alone. Do I pray enough for my brother? My heart condemns me." " 22d. — The first night of my beginning to read Watts' hymns, at the same hour with my ever-dear friend F . I have not of late prized this means of keeping up Christian fellowship so much as once I did. I fear I can trace this to my thoughts being too much set afloat about the future in this life. — The future ! what is it ? A moment like the past, and more uncertain ; — if the very brightest dreams that ever dazzled my fancy had been realized, still it would have been but a moment. Shall I suffer things to flit before me, invested with proportions not their own, till all things else seem tame and insipid ?" When George Thompson, the eloquent pleader for the abolition of slavery, was galled to visit the United States, in the hope that his remarkable power of in- fluencing the public mind might be beneficial there, we find the youthful philanthropist, whose ardent mind glowed with more exalted sympathies and felt an interest in loftier occupations, than usually kindle the enthusiasm of girls of her age, embodying her desires for his success in the following verses : — • 88 MEMOIR OF " To George Thompson, Esq. " Edinburgh, Jan. 183L "Ah ! what can tempt your wandering stens In foreign lands to roam ! Ah ! why forsake your native plains And leave your peaceful home? Say, will it be your lot to find Where'er your footsteps turn, A land as dear, and hearts as kind As those you leave to mourn ? — Yet go — heaven-favoured hero, go ! Pursue your glorious plan ; Abridge the weight of human wo, And raise the slave to man. Blest purpose ! Soul-ennobling aim ! Worthy a generous breast ; Of all the schemes that man can frame, The noblest and the best ! For what can sweeter joy impart. What purer pleasure give. Than to relieve the aching heart, And bid the wretched live ? This bliss by you, so often felt,. How gladly will you claim, When grateful thousands weeping join To bless your cherished name. May gentle breezes waft your sails Swift o'er the western main. And fortune's smiles, and prospering gales. Restore you soon again ! Heaven bless your cause ! your country's prayers Attend you o'er the sea : Go ! break the chain that slavery wears And bid the oppressed be free !" ** March 8.— Have had delight in the Life of M J. Graham : her remarks on conducting study to God's glory, and drawing out the mind to its full extent, as a precious talent, and his gift, pleased me much. MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 89 Let me try, like her, to bring all things to tlie ' Test ol Truth.' On Sabbath day attended the communion at Lady Glenorchy's. Mr. Bruce m serving a table, spoke of the value God has for us, and our conse- quent duty of being a peculiar and separate people, as, for the sake of being served by us, he had given his Son. Too light have been my impressions of that blessed day ; how soon earthly things warp my soul, and absorb my attention ! Let me keep fast by my hours of retirement, as the only means of receiv- ing spiritual life, and obtaining the blessed Spirit of ray God." These extracts, scanty as they are, compared to the mass from which they are drawn, betray a holy jealousy of self, and a sedulous mortification of all those emotions which the admiration of a continually extending circle of friends, was calculated to excite. The extracts from letters to friends of her own age. about this time, will exhibit the elegance and playful- ness of her mind, ever mingled as they were, with thoughts beyond the present scene. To one of her class-fellows. "Edinburgh, May 5, 1834. — I had been longing to hear of your welfare and pursuits for days before the arrival of your letters, and was a wee bit disappointed that there was no line for me ; but it was only be- cause 'all men seem to themselves of some impor- tance ;' so, at least, says my counsellor, Pascal, thai man of many thoughts. My sober judgment soon told me you had chosen your correspondents wisely. * * * Is it not most animating to feel oneself beloved by those who are dear to us ? To me it is the most exhilarating of all feelings ; and we, dear friend, shall continue to love and pray for each other, whether we are together or divided by many miles. 8* 90 MEMOIR OF Last week I had a long letter from my dearest F . So long a time had elapsed, that I feared she had forgotten her northern correspondent, or did not krow how large a share she possesses in my heart ; but this sweet message of love bears no token of forget- fulness. She urges me onward to the Celestial City, where, though our lot be far distant here, we shall together bow before our Saviour. Yes, my friend ! it is a glorious prospect to be in His presence for evermore, and to associate with all those who are formed after his likeness ; and it is sweet to hold con- verse with the loved companions of our short pilgr' t- age, those who have helped us to draw nearer to or Lord, who have poured consolation into our sj /its when wounded, or doubled our joys by their » !m- pathy. It is strange when I think of my friend Miss R , that my thoughts always flow in ihis current. Our intercourse has been nearly all con- nected with our highest hopes, and I trust the per- petuity of our love will much enhance its value. " I hope, dear M , the spring breezes that open the roses in the garden, are also planting them on your cheeks, which were at times so pale as to tell us that the heat of schools did not please them so well as the wooded slopes of C e. Do run about and be as wild — I was going to say — as an ass's colt ! but stopped, lest you should think, which is not the case, that I meant to insinuate any affinity between my fair friend and that interesting quadruped. No, no! B. B.'s lessons in botany and all the sci- ences, profound and light, will preclude all possibility of this. — There is more danger of your becoming a blue. • * • Our little friends at Stock- bridge school go on as well as usual ; I really re- spect and like the teacher. * • • You will think of us next Sabbath — Do pray for me. I could tell you of the coldness and carelessness of my heart, but I would not sadden you with my confessiocs ; MAIiy LUNDIE DUNCAN. 91 only ask that I may know more of the hidden love of God." The friend to whom she makes such grateful allu- sions in the foregoing letter, and of whom she states that their intercourse had been nearly all connected with their highest hopes, had shown her much consi- derate kindness when a school girl ; and, though they never saw each other again, the tone of their inter- course was of an elevating cast to the end. Daily spiritual communion was maintained, by a concerted course of scriptural reading, which was occasionally varied by a collection of hymns. The salutary effect of this was obvious on Mary's mind, for the name of that friend seemed invariably to lead to a train of pious reflection. A part of what appears to be the reply to the letter mentioned above is as follows : To her friend near London, "Edin., May 3, 1834. — I have risen an hour be- fore the household, and shall enjoy my quiet time with you ; but most sincerely do I join in your kind wish that we could meet for an hour or two. I should like to thank you viva voce for all your letters, and to tell you that they have not unfrequently come when I was in want of quickening and stirring up, and have helped me to draw more near to my Saviour, for a time at least. Let us, my beloved friend, set our faces more stedfastly to seek Him who is our King, and our only hope. I often wonder at my own hard- ness of heart, that I should prize earthly friendship, one of his sweetest gifts, so much, and yet love so little Him who is the source of love, from whom flows all the kindly feelings that cheer our way, and who has manifested towards us a compassion whose depth we cannot fathom. Why is it that all perfection should be so coldly thought of, and that cisterns which fail should be so cherished? — or that the prayers of Christian friends should be sought and 92 MEMOIR OF prized, and yet the open door to the throne of mercy be so often passed by 1 I was struck with the con- tradiction in this, when this morning I had many wandering thoughts in prayer, and hoped lliat i/ou would pray for me. Ah! surely, if I truly desired to grow in grace, my own prayers would be more frequent and earnest ; for what can be more plain or more encouraging than the command, ' ask and ve shall receive ?' My God bears long with an untoward child, and this makes me hope, that my slow walk, and frequent deviation from the path of life, may be changed for that ' unwearied running,' which must make present objects lose their false importance, and heaven and holiness be viewed aright. Is it not cheering, dear F., to feel that strength is not in, or from ourselves, but ' our help Cometh from the Lord V To him, then, let us always return, and never be satisfied with anything that may pretend to the name of happiness, short of His love. It is delightful to me to commune with you, dear fel- low-pilgrim, even at the distance of so many miles, and to feel that the bond which unites us is our fel- lowship with heaven. To love in Christ is the hap- piest earthly feeling, and I do trust it is thus we love each other. It seems a preparation for another state of being, where, indeed, God will be all in all ; and, though we are widely separated here, may we not worship together there 1 The continuance of our friendship makes me prize it most ; for I think it will not die with us. No! what belongs to the soul can- not die ; and if you should in time find out all my w^eakness, and cease to love me, or if long absence should even break ofT our correspondence, yet in hea- ven, purified and made one in Jesus, you could not but love me again ; and not the less for remembering that in this vale we held sweet converse, and often met in spirit before the Lord. But my dear friend will smile at this glance into the future and the uu MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 93 known ; yet, will not she agree with me, that friend- ship assumes a nobler character, when we look for- ward to the period when we shall be tilled with the game holy joy, and satisfied with the same glorious ' likeness ?' * * * ]\Iy time is at present so much occupied, tl at it is important to employ each moment as it flies, cr I could not do half that I wish. Indeed. I never accomplish every thing I have purposed in the morning. Two mornings in the week are spent in schools ; one of which interests me much, — the other is but a new acquaintance, and there is a want of method and spirit in the management, which only the regular teacher can wholly supply. I am also taking some lessons in singing, of which I am very fond ; and my inward discussions, on whether the value of time admits of such employ, generally ter- minated in, ' it is but for a little while, and mamma and all of them like it.' I meet my singing compa- nion twice a-week, to practise, and to give her a little rudimental knowledge of ItaUan ; and as we have begun with John's gospel, there is an occasional opportunity to speak to my amiable friend of some precious words of Jesus. Mamma often reads aloud in the evening, while I work ; and I enjoy this more than most things. My little sister's improvement I now watch eagerly, perhaps selfishly, I do so long for her changing from the dear child to the friend. • * * You will not forget us on our communion Sabbath. I never enjoy my dear uncle's* preaching so much as on those days ; he seems so deeply im- pressed with the value of the dying memorial of the crucified Lord." To her Edinburgh class-fellow she wrote in June : — • * * " Though you may rejoice in your ab- sence from dusty streets, you must allow me to cloud your sunny mind by telling you that you have • Rev. H. Grey, St. Mary's Edinburgh. 94 MEMOIR OF missed wnat has been most interesting. We poor sojourners in busy haunts of men, have some com- pensation for our exclusion from the loveliness of early summer in the country, in seeing those, whose names we have been accustomed to venerate, and hearing discussions that lose half their interest when they have passed through the ordeal of a reporter's pen. I need not tell you of this most satisfying General Assembly. Think how it has advanced in liberal feeling within three years. Let us, dear M , pray for the peace of Jerusalem, that the spirit of her King may, in yet larger measure, de- scend on those who minister in his sanctuary. To- day, I passed a short time in the gay scene in the Experimental Gardens, but I could not enjoy the flowers for the swarms of ' knights and ladies gay' who crowded the walks ; still there is something in- spiriting in timing our footsteps to the cadence of martial music ; and I could have fancied myself in some promenade of gay France, where all the idle happy creatures (an anomaly I own) meet to while away their hours amid sights and sounds, and odours in blended beauty ; but it outraged my northern feel- ing, with regard to what a garden should be. Is there not in the word garden something that ex- presses retirement and quiet, that could soothe the mind when ruffled, and soften it when gay 1 Does it not bring to view Cowper in his alcove, and Hannah More among her clustering roses at Barley-wood, or our first parents in their heaven-appointed home, where their employ was to learn the wisdom and love of God from every blossom that opened to the sun ? And does it not recall calm hours that we, our- selves, have spent, communing with nature, as if fol-" lowing the thoughts of some great mind far away from outward distractions, and drawing near in our solitude to Him who made the blades of grass we press beneath our feet, and made us, immortal, high MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 95 ly-favoured creatures ? Many such thoughts used to fill my heart in the garden at my own sweet home ; and would you believe, the floating scene of this morning recalled those feelings vividly ? You will not smile at this, when you remember the pain of being obliged to leave every inanimate object that has been long endeared. But after all, change of place should not strongly influence the real Chris- tian, for his Master never leaves him, and His peace in the heart makes even the wilderness to blossom as the rose. Have you, my M , had your breast filled with that best gift since your abode in the country ? I have hoped that a few months there may prove a time of refreshing to you ; and may not the heavy stroke which has rendered the house of your faithful pastor desolate, convey additional earnestness to his words, and increasing desire to his hearers to learn heavenly wisdom ? My dear friend, use the precious hours as they fly, and oh ! pray for me that I may do so likewise, and have my heart and my portion in heaven." To a friend who had lost her brother in a foreign country. * * * " Alas ! what can earthly comfort avail when a cloud of doubt hangs over the departing hours of ' one whom our souls loved.' Yet, my be- loved M , the balm of Gilead is sufficient even for this, though to a Christian the most afflictive trial that can befal him ; and you, I know, have felt that the Sun of righteousness shines bright even amid thick darkness. * * * It not unfrequently occurs, that the God, whose footsteps are not known, leads some wanderer from his fold into a far country, where no Sabbath bell is heard, and there, remote from hu- man aid, teaches him by his Spirit, that eternity alone i wortii living for, and that true religion alone is the safeguard of any individual. Poor Nugent Richmond ^ MEMOIR or was so taught on the bosom of the trackless waters, and led on, in an affecting manner, through various trials, till his Father saw him ripe for heaven, and called him hence. Tliis is a severe test of faith, but may it issue in the brightening of all your Christian graces. It is well to learn to give glory to God, even in the fires. I understand the clinging affection which this sorrow, along with the departure of your elder brother, makes you feel for the younger ; yet, do not rest on any earthly support ; go at once, and without reservation, to your God, and in trusting hira you shall be greatly blessed. Try to gather the fair fruits of sanctified affliction in these dark days, my friend ; do not seek, by other things, to weaken the impression that God is dealing with you, but keep close to him, and become all that he designs this first oppressing grief should render you. Your spiritual peace, your singleness of eye may be greater now than ever, if only you make use of the sluices that have been opened in your soul, which, painful though they be, form a channel for the healing waters to flow in. Does not the world seem ' a vain show ' to you now ? Oh ! I never knew the meaning of these words till ray beloved and revered father was taken from me, and then they rang in my ears for weeks, and seemed to be written in their full meaning on jny soul. How new the old and familiar language of Scripture seems, when a second being, as it were, is awakened in us by sufferings. What rich mines of treasure the promises become, and how we hold by them, sure for o»ce that no other stay can prop us." To her correspondent near London. " Edin., June 8, 1834. — I wonder if you love the Psalms as I do ; they have so often cheered me when sad, and filled my heart with sweet and peaceful thoughts, that I feel as if some of them were peculi- arly my own ; I feel that they have been my songs in MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 97 the house of my pilgrimage. I like to have my feel- ings at once expressed and deepened by the worda of inspiration, and to believe that the same emotion which tuned the harp of David of old is in a faint de- gree possessing me ; and, in God's own time, a harp of purer tone shall be given us, and along with the Minstrel of Israel, we shall tune them to the praise of his Lord and ours. Why is it then, that I am con- tent to be so far, immeasurably far behind him now, in devotion of spirit and Christian attainment? It startles me to think of the high and blessed hopes I cherish, and then to return to my daily walk, and see how little it is regulated by them, or by a motive more constraining still, the love of my Saviour. I know you will say, your trust must be fixed on Him alone ; you must not expect to find any thing in yourself on which to lean. True ! but what is it that prevents my coming more frequently into His presence by prayer, and why is it, that, when there, my desires are so languid, and at times I even seem to have no- thing to ask — I do not mean that I never heartily pray — Oh ! I should indeed be miserable were it so ; but I have been cold of late ; I want quickening. * * * 1 feel painfully how easy it is for me to bear the char- acter of a Christian, while I have very slightly ' taken up my cross,' and very imperfectly renounced the love of this vain world. Dearest friend, how shall I entirely belong to Jesus ! Oh ! animate me, by your love, to love Him more, and do not fear to say what you think of my evil heart, for how shall it become purified unless truly dealt with ! I sometimes fear life has for me too much that is engrossing ; though, two years ago, I did not suppose I would again esti- mate it as aught but a vain show. How strange is the tendency to seek for rest, where all is fleeting ! 1 have had a lesson of great pain that it is so, in the re- moval of my most dear friend, Isabella Gordon. You have no idea what a blank it is to me to think she is 9 98 MEMOIR OF no longer on earth ; though far separated, we could think of each other with the happiness of those who know that such remembrances are mutual, and the hope of seeing her in Scotland this summer, had been held out to her friends here, and had given me lively- pleasure for months ; but she is gone — quite gone, and earth shall not be our place of meeting. 1 had believed it a sweet friendship, formed to add to the enjoyments of time ; but, though it has not proved so, the memory of this loved one will continue most pre- cious, till we meet to love more intensely, and more in the Lurd than we could have done here. I cannot bear to think of her mother and sister's grief; it must be overwhelming : and her poor husband, who so lately thought he had secured such a treasure for his own — how great must his desolation be ! She was a creature so full of spirit and liveliness, that I never thought of her in connexion with death. * * There is no cloud too thick to be penetrated by the beams of divine love, and where they shine, how can it all be darkness ? They are often most glorious and re- viving, when creature comforts fail. * * Ilow the passing thought of losing those who are entwined with our very being, deepens and hallows our love to them ! How it makes us anticipate every wish, and strive ia communing with them, to catch the glow that rests on their souls ere they are called from us ! Oh ! how perfectly can 1 enter into your feelings, and how ear nesily I pray, that, whatever befalls you, may tend to fit you for your mansion in Immanuel's land the land, we love the best ; and to which every friend who is gathered, draws our hearts more closely. Help me to praise Him, while we are still in this far-ofl' coun- try, and we shall sing with gladsome voices, when fear and care are known to us only in grateful remem- brance." MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 99 To the same friend under a family bereavement. " Edinburgh, September 19, 1834. — * * * I long to know how you have sustained the blow, and what have been the exercises of your soul since it was struck. I trust you have been enabled throughout, to view it but as ' the sterner voice of love,' and to find rest from all your grief at the footstool of the throne. Oh ! what place of refuge is like this, when heart and flesh fail ? Where can we flee for support, but to the rock of ages ? To hide beneath the shadow of the Almighty, when the storms of sorrow beat around us, is ' perfect peace.' To call him Abba, Father, while he is depriving us of what we loved the most, is some- thing like a foretaste of heaven, where He shall be all in all. This hidden joy you daily experience, for He has long been your portion ; and his perfect ful- ness is never felt till some delights have withered, and our eyes have been opened to the vanity of time, and to the nearness of eternity ; earth fades away as we follow the glorified spirit to its new and holy abode, and attempt to join in the song of praise which fills the upper sanctuary. A tearful and faltering song it will be, my loved friend, so long as we are here, yet not disregarded by the God of compassion, and not the less sweet, because a sense of unworthiness almost makes it die on our lips. He will one day give it the strength and purity of angels' praise, and we shall adore him face to face. I know not a more in- tensely delightful occupation of mind, than to look stedfastly upward for a time to see the Lamb of God pleading for us with pity and love ; and the Holy Spirit breathing around influences of grace, that make heaven what it is — a place of perfect purity ; and to see the ransomed throng casting their crowns bci'ore the most High, in the height of their grateful love, and to recognize amongst them some whom we have known as companions of our pilgrimage, when they, like us, were creatures of sin and infirmity, longing 100 MEMOIR OF for that full converse with God which they could not here enjoy, sympalhiziufr in our sorrow for sin, and urging us onward to the home they now have entered. True, they arc ours no longer, but they, as well as we, are of the family of Jesus, — sweet, indissoluble bond ! Oh ! to be among those blessed ones in his presence. The time will soon come, dear sister in Christ, and then no more weeping, no more pain, no more sinning against infinite goodness. I pray for you, that the port of endless rest may be brought so near to you in contemplation, as to enable you to feel, that though your all were taken away, you would be still rich, still happy. " It eflects me greatly to tliink, that while you were suffering, and I knew it not, I was enjoying a greater pleasure than I have for a long time, in visiting some of the loveliest parts of Scotland in company with dear friends. I little thought how you were engaged when I was tracing the bounteous hand of God in fertile valleys, or seeing the precious things of the ' lasting hills,' that rise among lakes and rivers. Ah ! had I known, you would have been borne in my heart through all my wanderings ; but now I shall daily pray for you, that you may produce the peaceable fruits of righteousness, through this chastisement of your God. Is it not joy to have a dear friend safe — safe with Jesus. To think of you in your sorrow, makes me love you more ; you will learn much in sorrow that you did not know till now ; and may I hope, that, when strength and inclination permit, you will tell me of the tilings that you have seen and heard, that I njay enter into your joys as well as your sorrows. Farewell, sweet Friend." The next letter, from which a portion is extracted, IS addressed to the same precious Christian friend, and in it, for tlie first time, she mentions the engage- ment she hud formed with Mr. W W. Duncan, the youngest son of her father's highly-esteemed friend, MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 101 and old college companion, tlie Rev. Dr. Duncan of Ruthwell : — ''Edinburgh, November 20, 1834. — * * * How sweet is it to resign our treasures to a God of love, and to follow them in thought to the sacred bliss of His immediate presence, where they expand into new vigour, and a joy which they could not here have known, and lived. Does not the one thought of their exemption from sin, their freedom from the dread of ever again grieving the Saviour, make one long to be with them, where all is peace and purity ? Oh ! to be ready when the call is heard ! Strange, that sin should ever acquire on ascendancy in us, when we know that ' the end' draws near ! Would that it were so nailed to the cross of Jesus that we could never see it in any light but that of abhorrence. I wish I were near you for a little time, my dearest friend ; I selfishly wish it, because I am sure you would help my slow and wavering feet to run the race set before me. I have profitted little by the trials that have en- tered into my lot, and each day discloses some ex\\ to be struggled against, or some corruption that I had long since thought in a measure vanquished, rising with new vigour, and surprising me into sin. How difficult is it to keep the heart, and how impossible to serve God without doing so. " Our circle of acquaintance is on the increase, but it is not less than self-denial to pass much time in so- ciety, unless it consists o{ friends, and those who can improve and sympathize with me in the best things. This feeling grows upon me, and leads me to evade it in many ways. I fear this is selfish, yet how little good can I do in company, and how little do I ever obtain. Tell me what you think about this, my dear friend. A true friend in Christ is invaluable, and the few who are so kind as to be my friends in this sense, possess my warmest love ; I hope I may always count you among the number. 9* 102 MEMOIR. OF " You have of late been livinq; much on the con- fines of the unseen world, and getting your spirit brought into sweet accordance with the will of God ; you have tasted much of his goodness, and have been preparing for the morning of joy that shall follow the night of weeping. I know the tender and subdued frame into wliich you have been brought, and I pray God it may be increased, and tliat all your life you may be glad when memory refers to this mournful and precious season. Is not the Christian life unlike all other things, in the abounding of joy when tribu- lation is heaviest ? I long for the time when all the world shall know what this means, and all hearts shall resign themselves to God. * * * " Why is it, my loved friend, that we have so little real Christian fellowship with those we love, while health and time remain to us ? There is so often an approach to the subject, without its lead- ing to any thing that may warm our affections, or ele- vate our dull hearts farther above the passing scene. Is it that the vanities of time engross us, so that we are unwilling to embody in words, wishes which we feel to be too evanescent, lest the action of the next hour should bring upon us a charge of inconsistency ? Ah ! we do not remember that the Searcher of hearts knows all that may be concealed from our fellow-pil- grims. I am convinced there woidd be more consist- ent watcld'ulness if we sometimes gave them a look of what was passing in our hearts ; and this is only an incidental advantage among many direct ones, for we might learn much by placing our hopes and fears by the side of others. For myself, I feel that, if I were greatly rejoicing in the hope which maketh not ashamed, the reference to it would be more frequent and more fervent than it is. I have been trying for the last fortnight, but I find a danger of being obtru- sive, and injuring the best of causes. Truly, wisdom is necessary to the child of God. • * * MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 103 " \Vc are not without our trials this winter ; my brother G. is unable to attend school. * * • if this illness be the means of leading him to the Sa- viour, it will be cause of joy, and not of grief. He loves mamma and listens to all she says to him with deep interest ; but how delightful it would be to see him dcA'ote himself heartily to God. You know the heart of a sister, when she longs to see her brother walk decidedly and steadily in the truth. Will you join me in praying for this dear boy ? * * • " I am informed by a mutual friend that you have heard a piece of intelligence concerning me, which I am at a loss to know what wind ha-s blown southward. My dearest F., I ought to have told you of this before, but for my great aversion to write about it. Yes, my dear friend ! my lot is cast — and I trust it is the Lord, my heavenly and only Father, who has decided it. I have been engaged, since spring, to the son of my beloved papa's dearest friend. I look forward to the future, if with some trembling and fear, with a coun- terbalancing mixture of hope in the God who has led and guided me all my life, and of confidence in the friend whom I have so deeply trusted. We have met during the summer, but are now separated. I feel that correspondence unfolds points of character which personal intercourse does not do so well. You do not know how long young clergymen in Scotland are sometimes obliged to wait before they obtain a place in the vineyard to which they have devoted them- selves. It may be years, — but we have from the first left all in the hands of our covenant God, and he will do all things well. I love the prospect of being en- gaged through life in winning souls to Him, and of having extended opportunities of usefulness. But it is a responsible and solemn post. Oh ! for a spirit that would willingly give up all for Jesus, and endure whatever he lays upon me. There are trials con- nected with my present situation which I did not 104 MEMOIR OF know before, yet they are pleasant ones in one sense. But you will pray for me, and will now sometimes blend another name with mine in the petitions which I value above many things. I need your counsel, my beloved friend ; give it me faitlilully and freely. Tell me to set my afl'ections on things above, and not to permit either happiness or grief to take too great pos- session of me. It is wrong to have filled so much paper with what relates to myself, at a time when your spirit is so differently engaged ; but I know from the sorrow I felt in your affliction, that you will not disregard my state of mind. It is pleasant to forget self in sympathy with others ; it gives new impulse to the thought, and lightens the load that may be weighing us down. When I think of all the events of April, 1832, which are as distinct as if it were but yesterday, the evanescence of all earthly things comes before me. Then I was in the deep waters of my first sorrow, and it seemed as if I could never be again very happy here. Those days looked mournful, but sacredly beloved : yet different feelings have the as- cendancy, — my own papa's place never can be filled, — oh, no, not in the least degree ; but there is more hope, and more calm happiness in looking forward, that I could then believe that any earthly prospect could afford me. I want none but such as comes from God, and is built upon his love ; and I shall watch my deceitful heart, and try all things by the test of his word. Heaven is the only place where there can be no disappointment or sorrow, and the reason is, that sin is banished from its holy mansions. Then let me watch against sin, or the supportes on which 1 lean will give way, and pierce me through. There is no true peace, but such as cometh from above." Of her beloved father, whose memory was present to her in joy and sorrow, and never failed to open the sluices of filial reverence and strong afh-ction, she MARY LUNDIE DLNCAN. 105 writes to a friend in Kelso, on occasion of going to the sculptor's to see a marble tal)let to his memory, before it was sent to the place of sepulture — a tablet which was a token of affectionate remembrance from his parishioners : — " How feeble is any memorial in comparison with the affection that delights to linger round the departed — to recall his image — and to dwell upon his words. Is it not striking, that even of those most loved and most lamented, it may be so truly said, ' 7'heir memory and their name is gone V They appeared indispen- sable to the performance of a thousand duties, and their removal seemed likely to make a chasm that could not soon be filled ; — but the grave has closed over them — they are gone — another steps into the vacant place, taking on himself the duties, and acquiring the interest in the hearts of those around him, which had belonged to his predecessor. Is it not well that a Christian's home and happiness are in heaven, and that, however men may forgot, their God remembers them ? It makes one humble to see how easily one's part is taken, and work done by others ; but at such times the unchanging love of God becomes unspeak- ably precious. To try to leave our lasting remem- brance on earth, is writing our name on the sand ; but if our Lord has written it on the palms of his hands, we need not care how quicldy the restless waves efface it from the earth," These extraets have brought us near the close of her twentieth year. But before leaving it, a gleaning from the diary, at various datos, will put us in pos- session of her views on some subjects, and the uni- form state of her soul, waiting on, and following hard after God : — Diary. — " June 26. — Last night I read Mr. C.'s account of my beloved Isabella Gordon, with many tears and longings that, if God takes me away as eajly, I may be as willing to go, and as joyful in the 106 MEMOIR OF prospect of eternity." — After going minutely thniugh the details of that toucliing " entrance into rest," she sums up the character of the friend she so much loved and admired, and whose early removal so much resembled her own : — " My loved friend had heeu, she feared, too happy in the lew months of her mar ried life. She was the charm of her circle. * * She lived for the happiness of others — there was <> crucifixion of self — her love of truth, and her tender- ness of conscience were great ; — it was her constant aim to be useful to others. * * Who would not wish to resemble her who has been so suddenly taken from us, to a glorious and early eternity ? Never, my friend, shall I forget thee. We shall meet again." On occasion of a passing fear that the sojourn of a friend from a far country in her mother's house, should, in some degree, interfere with the interchange of sen- timent between them, she wrote : — " July 15. — I must conquer that pride, which makes one averse to the idea of being laid on the shelf. Why should I think of self at all. Oh ! my F., [the friend in the south to whom her most interesting let- ters were addressed,] how unlike is my spirit to thy holy and submissive one. When shall I see thee ? 1 led as though thou wouldst shed over me a part of thy humble and steady devotion." " July 28. — Yesterday my heart was with those dear friends at Kelso and Ruthwell who compassed the altar of the Lord, and in praying for them my soul caught a portion of the love of Jesus. It is true that blessings sought for others are returned to ourselves, and there are few pleasures like that of connnunion of spirit with absent I'riends, at the throne of mercy." " August 1 . — Freedom has dawned this morning on the British colonies. No more degraded lower than the brutes — no more bowed down with suffering from which tliere is no redress — the sons of Africa MARY LUNDFE DUNCAN. 107 have obtained the rights of follow-subjccts — the rights of man, the immortal creation of God. Now, they may seek the sanctuary, fearless of the lash ; — they may call their children their own. Hope will ani- mate their hearts, and give vigour to their efforts. Oh for more holy men to show them the way of sal- vation! The Lord keep them from riot and idleness ' They have been so little taught, that He only can avert confusion and tumult, as the result of their joy. Some Christians there are among their number, who will influence the others. My poor fellow-travellers through life's short wilderness, may I meet with many of you in heaven, where even I can hope to dwell, through the love of my risen Lord ! There none will despise the negro, whom Jesus has pitied and redeemed." In anticipation of a highland tour, in the society of those she most loved, she writes her purposes of keeping her own heart, and aiding the hearts of her associates : — "■ August 1\. — To-morrow, D. V. we shall set out on our long anticipated tour. Will it bring all the en- joyment it has promised ? I wish to go in the fear of God, remembering him in whatever compai\y 1 am, and seeking to keep those I love best near Him Oh may He help me so to do ! We shall praise Him in His beautiful temple : and glow with love to Him amid the wildness and magnificence of nature. What double joy it gives to bo his children ! What serenity to go out leaning on Him ! I heard Mr. Candlish, on the man who wished to save his five brethren from hell. — His remarks on friends loving as immortal beings, who should only regard each other in another world according to their mutual in- uence in preparing for it, were beautiful, and fired my desires, as well as those of W. W. D., who was in another part of the church, to walk as a child of light, and to be helpful to my dear ones in the bey ■\ 108 MEMOIR OF things ; for we shall blend our voices in the angelic song ; and it is sweet to cherish the tenderest bonds only in the Lord." Diary. — " September 19. — The happy month is ended this day, by the departure of the last of the party. Seldom have expectations of enjoyment been 80 well realized, as in this case. A portion of beau- tiful weather, magnificent scenery, and kind friends. have made this a season of much pleasure, — not un- mixed, it is true, but what is in this world ? The scientific meeting, and the triumphal coming of Earl Grey, have occupied us since our return. We had one quiet walk to the Botanic Gardens, where we read part of a sermon on prayer. May the God of mercy send his Spirit to him who composed and preached that sermon, that many souls may be the iruit of his labour ! May his inward life be renewed day by day ! This shall be my prayer : and oh ! may my influence be of a holy kind. May I help him to resist evil, and cherish love to God, and purity of conscience. » * * This morning we joined in prayer, and felt it sweet to commit each other to Him who never slumbers ; and in His light may we walk till we meet again I Last night, when Dr. D., &c., were about to set out by the night mail, we all knelt together and prayed for this dear but separated family. There is a joy in prayer. Oh that I had known more of it in this united form ! To- morrow, 1 trust W. W. will be strengthened in body and spirit, for the performance of duty ; and may a desire of converting sinners be his first and rulin.' motive. ' The blessing of Him who dweit in the bush' go with him." Diary. — " Dec. 1 . — I spent the evening with Miss , and had some profitable talk. I love her much, and feel more alive and steadfast after sucn hours, The reading of Charles' of Bala's life, has shown me what God can do in sanctifying his people, and mak- MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 109 fng them meet for his own inheritance, and I hoped it was the beginning of better things for me, and thai to Uve to Ilim, and have his will done in me would be, as I have often resolved and broken, hereafter much more my object. But tliough I had some time of prayer that refreshed me, pride crept in." Her ex- perience of this chronic disease, which has been the affliction of the children of Adam ever since he was cast out of Eden, and which has forced thousands to enter into the sympathies of Paul's complaint, " when I would do good, evil is present with me," was, at this time of good and hopeful resolution, specially verified ; and the diary traces the causes of wounding her conscience, with simplicity, and sincere self-ex- amination. A single extract is given to show the watch she kept over her state of mind, and the exact ac- count to which she called herself for every emoticn on which conscience set its stigma. " On Thursday morning, rose late, and had little time to pray. On the way to Stockbridge school, read a French play, which so occupied me that I had not my usual interest in teaching the children. On Friday was impatient to get ofl' to the Canongate school, and was ruthei cross in hearing my sister's history lesson. In the evening went to Mr. 's. He told me they thought me clever, and the foolish words did me harm the whole evening. I felt an assumption of some- thing. * * Next day I sought the small, too much neglected chamber, where I have so often poured out nty prayers to God. I had scarce visited it for days, — a friend's presence had prevented me having it to myself. Nothing can keep the heart but con- verse with God in solitude. Without that, confusion enters ; sins prevail ; and on awaking we find we have gone backward. I wept and prayed for pardon, and a new, entirely new heart. I thought that my ex- ample might injure the children, whom I ought to lead in the good way." 10 110 MEMOIR OF This is the closing entry in the diarj" for the year 1834. Before changing the date, a specimen of let- ters to Mr. Duncan may be useful, as exhibiting the turn of her intellectual powers when at ease, and the course of her rellections on the union of mind with another, which she had in prospect. Extracts of letters to Mr. Duncan in 1834. " Every one says I do not allow myself enough of sleep ; but when my days are much broken up, the still evening hour is very valuable ; and if 1 am awaked by a bright sunbeam at early morn, how can I but spring to meet it, and snatch some calm and re- freshing thought and reading before the bustle begins 1 Are not these reasons valid ? Sometimes 1 fall asleep lor ten minutes (not more) during the day, and feel strengthened. Oh ! how little can I do at most ! How ill could I afford to pass as many hours in the land of forgetfulness as some people do ! I long to spend my short fast fleeting life, as an intelli- gent immortal being ought, 'redeeming the time,' as one who knows that soon the record of her deeds will be filled up." «**•*• " Nov. 19. — I know not if I ever expressed to you •what 1 have often felt, that if I was losing sight of my mercies, or forgetting that I do not deserve the smallest of those thousand blessings that have been given me, I never felt any thing more salutary than a visit to some lowly cottage, where another child of Adam, and perhaps a far better child of God, was suffering from privation or pain. Such a sight re- calls me to myself, and sends me away humble and grateful. * * * 1 must usk you to thank our pre- server with me, for an escape from danger I was un- consciously incurring some weeks ago. You remem- ber the sick woman 1 told you of. The doctors had not ascertained the nature of her disease, and the last 4ime 1 went, lior daugliter had been taken ill. U has MARY LUNOIE DUNCAN. Ill been too surely proved tliiit it was typhus fever ; and thouoli they are recoverin