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 BR 1725 .E942 1829 
 
 Ewing, Greville, 1767-1841 
 
 Memoir of Barbara Ewing 
 

 
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A MEMOIR 
 
 x^ 
 
 BARBARA EWING 
 
 HER HUSBAND, 
 
 GREVILLE EWING. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 GLASGOW: 
 PUBLISHED BY GEORGE GALLIE; 
 
 SOLD BY 
 
 WAUGH & INNES, W. OLIPHANT, AND J. LINDSAY & CO. 
 
 EDINBURGH; 
 
 HOLDSWORTH & BALL, WESTLEY & DAVIS, J. NISBET, AND 
 
 HAMILTON, ADAMS, & CO., LONDON. 
 
 M.DCCC.XX1X. 
 
E. Khull & Son, Printers, 8, East Clyde Street, Glasgow. 
 
Co ^n, 
 
 WHOSE MEMORY I CHERISH, 
 
 WHO STILL REMEMBERS ME, 
 WHOM I AM QUICKLY FOLLOWING TO DEATH, 
 
 AND HOPE, THROUGH MERCY, SOON TO MEET, 
 IN A DEATHLESS WORLD. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Mrs. Ewing's birth and connexions, 
 General character, . . . . • 
 
 Knowledge of the Gospel, . . . • 
 
 Dissent from the Established Church, 
 Accession to the Congregational Union, 
 
 Letter to Mrs. E r, 
 
 Extract of another Letter to the same. 
 
 Extracts of Letters to Miss S e, 
 
 Education and other opportunities of improvement 
 Effect on the character of her religious profession, 
 Behaviour in cases of misunderstanding and opposition 
 Letter to a young friend on the subject, 
 Forbearance and faithfulness. 
 
 Sentiments on Christian fellowship, and approved authors 
 Union of holy principle and heavenly temper, 
 Specimens of early correspondence, in 
 A Letter, on the death of a Friend, 
 
 on the same, to the same, 
 
 on the death of an Aunt, 
 
 on the death of one in a doubtful state. 
 
 Eminence in various valuable qualities. 
 Desire for the improvement of my Library, 
 Character and success as a stepmother. 
 Letter to my daughter, .... 
 
 , 
 
 9 
 
 . 
 
 11 
 
 . 
 
 14< 
 
 
 16 
 
 
 19 
 
 
 20 
 
 
 30 
 
 . 32 
 
 , 36, 41 
 
 
 45 
 
 
 46 
 
 tion, 
 
 47 
 
 
 50 
 
 
 53 
 
 uthors 
 
 55 
 
 
 56 
 
 
 57 
 
 
 59 
 
 
 60 
 
 
 61 
 
 
 64 
 
 
 ib. 
 
 
 65 
 
 
 66 
 
VI 
 
 Love to children and young people, 
 
 Letter to a young friend going abroad, 
 
 Zeal for missions, and various religious and benevolent 
 
 Institutions, ....... 
 
 Sermons for the Congregational Union Widows' and 
 
 Ministers' fund, ...... 
 
 Journies for promoting the preaching of the Gospel, 
 
 Journey to London, 
 
 Correspondence with Ministers and Missionaries, 
 Attendance on the Annual Meeting of the Congregational 
 
 Union, ....... 
 
 Interest in Sales of Ladies* Work, for the City Mission, 
 
 and for Itinerancies to the Highlands, 
 Habits, and correspondence, of private friendship. 
 Letters to a widowed friend, on the death of her husband 
 Summer residence in the country. 
 Letter to the above widowed friend, 
 Last Letter to the same, ..... 
 Last visit to Durham, ..... 
 
 Letter, on her return, to Mrs. Matheson, 
 Letter to the same, on the City Mission Sale, and on the 
 
 last anniversary of our marriage, 
 Letter to the same, on the death of her daughter, 
 State of Mrs. Ewing's health, .... 
 
 State of my health, 
 
 Circumstances preceding the calamity, 
 
 Mrs. Ewing's state of readiness, . . . 
 
 Last Letter to Mrs. H n, .... 
 
 The Excursion, ...... 
 
 The Catastrophe, ...... 
 
 Mrs. Ewing's fortitude and patience in her sufferings, 
 
VI I 
 
 Her faith, hope, and love, in death, 
 
 Lines on Mrs. Ewing's death, 
 
 Extract from Sermon of Rev. George Logan, 
 
 Extract from Sermon of Rev. Dr. Wardlaw, 
 
 Lines on visiting Mrs. Swing's grave, 
 
 Lines by Bernard Barton, .... 
 
 Lines by a Minister in Suffolk, 
 
 Lines by a young man. 
 
 Letters of condolence, 
 
 ■ ' by Mrs. Ewing, (too late for the Memoir, 
 
 by Mrs. Matheson, . 
 
 R. L 
 
 Rev. Joseph Fletcher, 
 Rev. Henry Townley, 
 Rev. David Russel, 
 Rev. John Watson, 
 Rev. H. F. Burder, . 
 Rev. William Orme, . 
 Rev. Neil M'Neil, 
 
 T. S. J 's Letter, . 
 
 Rev. Andrew Ritchie, 
 Rev. Thomas Smith, 
 Rev. John Hill, . 
 
 M. C. T r. 
 
 Rev. Alex. Dewar, 
 
 Church at Dumfries, 
 
 T. Erskine, Esq. of Linlathen, 
 
 Rev. Ebenezer Miller, 
 
 Rev. Gilbert Wardlaw, 
 
 Rev. G. D. Cullen, . 
 
 Rev. J. Hill, . 
 
 Page 
 132 
 143 
 146 
 149 
 158 
 160 
 161 
 162 
 164 
 167, 168 
 170 
 173 
 175 
 178 
 180 
 182 
 184 
 186 
 193 
 197 
 200 
 203 
 205 
 207 
 209 
 210 
 212 
 214 
 220 
 222 
 224 
 
Vlll 
 
 Page 
 
 Aberdeenshire Association, ...... 227 
 
 Rev. John Aikman, ....... 231 
 
 M. H 235 
 
 Rev. John Campbell, 236 
 
 Rev. Dr. Winter, 239 
 
 Rev. Dr. Clunie, 242 
 
 C. P 1, 244 
 
 Rev. Dr. Pye Smith, 245 
 
MEMOIR, c§c. 
 
 Mrs. Ewing was born at Polloc, on the 20tli 
 December, 1773. Her maiden name was Bar- 
 bara Maxwell. She was the second daughter ol' 
 the late Sir James Maxwell, Baronet, of Polloc, 
 sister of the present Sir John Maxwell, and aunt 
 of John Maxwell, Esq., the present Member of 
 Parliament for the county of Renfrew, and of his 
 only remaining sister. Miss Maxwell. 
 
 When the honours of her ancient family became 
 at any time the subject of conversation, she would 
 acknowledge, with peculiar gratitude, the goodness 
 of God in raising up in it, at various periods, many 
 persons of eminent piety. In the unhappy days of 
 tyranny and persecution, the Maxwells of Polloc 
 distinguished themselves as friends to the civil and 
 religious liberty of their country. They afforded 
 shelter to the distressed ministers of the Gospel of 
 Christ — countenanced the preaching of the Gospel 
 to the afflicted people — relieved the necessities of 
 the outlawed Covenanters — and incurred heavy 
 fines for those generous acts of zeal and com pas- 
 
 A 
 
10 
 
 sion.* Mrs. Ewing knew many instances of wor- 
 thy representatives, and members of the family, 
 who had remarkably adorned the doctrines of our 
 God and Saviour, in their respective times. In 
 her own day also, she had seen bright examples 
 of excellence in her aunts, Miss Maxwell and Mrs. 
 Montgomery of Auldhouse ; and in Lady Walter 
 Maxwell, well known in the religious world both 
 of Scotland and England, and of whom more than 
 one memoir has been published. 
 
 Above all, she delighted in recollecting the grace 
 of God, which had been given to her only sister, 
 Frances Maxwell, afterwards Mrs. Cuninghame 
 of Craigends. From their infancy, they had been 
 endeared to each other by the warmest natural 
 affection. They became impressed with the truth 
 and value of the Gospel about the same time, and 
 by the same means. In temper, talents, and Chris- 
 tian principle, they proved themselves, while spared 
 to each other, to be kindred spirits. Barbara used 
 to say, that she looked up to her sister in every 
 thing. I suppose they were always communica- 
 tive, confidential, and most completely harmonious. 
 When Mrs. Cuninghame died, her sister felt as 
 if she could not live without her ; and yet she said, 
 that when she thought of the blessedness of the 
 departed soul, she durst not indulge her grief. 
 
 • See Wodrow's Church History. 
 
11 
 
 That trying event happened several years ago, 
 but it had made an indelible impression on Mrs. 
 Ewing's mind. She never spoke of her sister's 
 death but with the deepest seriousness. 
 
 The writer of this Memoir is not the only 
 widowed husband connected with thePolloc family. 
 Among deceased friends, Mrs. Ewing ha-d to num- 
 ber a lovely, accomplished, and amiable niece, who 
 was called away in the morning of life, soon after 
 giving birth to her third child. Miss Elizabeth 
 Maxwell, afterwards Mrs. Stirling of Kenmuir, 
 was very dear to Mrs. Ewing, both as a near rela- 
 tive, and from early years, a decidedly serious 
 Christian. Congenial in spirit, they were bound 
 to each other by the strongest ties of mutual attach- 
 ment. They were lovely and pleasant in their lives, 
 and in their death they have not been long divided. 
 
 The most prominent feature of Mrs. Ewing's 
 character, was the union of a very superior under- 
 standing with the warmest fervour, and keenest 
 sensibility of an affectionate heart. Those who 
 best knew her were most sensible of this valuable 
 union. Various as the views and dispositions of a 
 numerous class of relations must in every instance 
 be, I believe it will not be thought, by any of hers, 
 too much to affirm, that she deserved a high place 
 in the esteem and regard of them all, and that, on 
 her part, she loved them all with the most enlight- 
 ened and exalted zeal. Her ardent, faithful, and 
 
12 
 
 unwearied love to her affectionate mother, I wit- 
 nessed daily for several years. Her love to her 
 father, who died when she was about twelve years 
 of age, I have reason to believe was, in that early 
 period, equally intense. I had the fullest evidence 
 that her step-father, Sir John Shaw Stewart, who 
 proved a kind parent to her, was an object of her 
 sincerest and most dutiful aflPection. Her delight 
 in her sister has already been mentioned. To this 
 must be added a devoted attachment to her two 
 brothers. The memory of the younger. Captain 
 Robert Maxwell, who died many years ago, she 
 tenderly cherished. That the elder brother and 
 his family were ever among the very dearest to her 
 heart, appeared by the whole of her conduct on 
 every occasion, and especially, as I shall be able to 
 show, in her last hour. 
 
 She was sensibly alive indeed to every relative 
 claim. The extensive circle of her cousins, and 
 the families of those of them who had any ; her 
 contemporaries among them who had been her 
 associates from early life, or those of them who, 
 being younger than herself, were at any time, or 
 in any degree under her charge ; all these were ever 
 regarded by her with the tenderest concern for 
 their dearest interests. But it was not necessary 
 to be related to her by the ties of blood or affinity, 
 to obtain the instructions of her counsel, or the 
 zealous exertions of her benevolence. To every 
 
13 
 
 one who approached her, she " opened her mouth 
 with wisdom ; and in her tongue was the law of 
 kindness."* To engage her judicious and effec- 
 tive services, it was quite enough to give her an 
 opportunity of serving her God, and doing good 
 to her fellow creatures. 
 
 A circumstance very remarkable in the history 
 of my late beloved wife, was the affection and 
 esteem with which she was regarded by worthy 
 persons who intimately knew her from the earliest 
 period of her childhood. Not to speak of any of 
 her immediate relatives, whose delight in her might 
 be considered as the result, in part at least, of their 
 propinquity ; nor of her youthful companions, 
 whose juvenile fondness, arising out of mutual 
 amusement, might be confirmed by habit and asso- 
 ciation; there were some excellent individuals 
 called to discharge to her duties of the most impor- 
 tant, but anxious and trying nature, who became 
 attached to her to a degree that is far from being 
 common. She was blest, for example, with a pious 
 nurse, who, being a widow, continued with her 
 during the whole of her childhood, till she was 
 about to be committed to the care of a governess. 
 As the nurse was much esteemed in the family, it 
 was then proposed to her to remain as house- 
 keeper. This proposal she at first declined, being 
 
 Prov. 
 
14 
 
 unwilling to undertake so great a charge ; but, on 
 finding she could not otherwise continue in the 
 house, she said, " Rather than leave my bairn, I 
 will be house-keeper, and do the best I can." In 
 her new office she gave great satisfaction, and did 
 not leave the family till she again married, and 
 rose to a deservedly superior situation in life. To 
 this day, she is respected by them all. While Mrs. 
 Ewing lived, a mutual affection, like that of parent 
 and child, was enhanced by the bonds of Christian 
 fellowship ; and now that she is gone, the survivor is 
 j ustly reckoned among the deepest of the mourners. 
 
 Mrs. Ewing's governess was also very faithful 
 and affectionate. She died some years ago in 
 England, of which she was a native. She was in 
 different families before she retired to her own 
 country ; but she always maintained a confidential 
 correspondence with her old pupil ; visited her as 
 one of her most esteemed friends, when she returned 
 occasionally to this neighbourhood ; and, as a seri- 
 ous inquirer on the most important subjects, con- 
 sulted her whom she had formerly been accus- 
 tomed to teach. 
 
 I have no doubt, that Mrs. Ewing received her 
 first serious impressions from some of her own 
 relations, or from her nurse, and other Christians 
 with whom it was her happiness to be acquainted 
 in her earliest years. It appears, however, that 
 her knowledge of the gospel of Jesus Christ, was^ 
 
15 
 
 under God, the effect of reading a book, which has 
 been blessed to many, Doddridge's Rise and Pro- 
 gress of Religion in the Soul. By means of it she 
 saw her guilt and depravity as a sinner, who, with 
 all mankind, had broken the holy and spiritual, 
 perfect and eternal, law of God ; the love of God 
 in giving his own Son as a ransom for mankind ; 
 the suitableness of the Saviour's atonement for sin ; 
 and the sufficiency of the grace of the Holy Spirit, 
 who causeth sinners to pass from death to life, and 
 worketh in his people to will and to do of his 
 good pleasure. She received the love of the truth, 
 that she might be saved. Believing in Christ, she 
 enjo3^ed the earnest and foretaste of heavenly feli- 
 city in the present possession of eternal life. Her 
 prayers and praises became those of an adopted 
 child of her heavenly Father ; and all the duties of 
 her humble, devoted, self-denied, decisive, and 
 exemplary vital Christianity, were, in her esteem, 
 honours and blessings, for which she never ceased 
 to give the most grateful thanks. 
 
 Happy now, in the true sense of the word, she 
 lost her relish for the gaieties of the fashionable 
 world. Her pleasure was the hearing of the gospel, 
 and the other exercises and ordinances of social 
 worship. She was attracted by Christian society, 
 spiritual conversation, and serious epistolary cor- 
 respondence. Her friendships arose out of religi- 
 ous intercourse. She entered warmly into the spirit 
 
16 
 
 of the exertions of the animating day, in which she 
 had been introduced into the kingdom of Christ. 
 She became interested in the cause of missions to 
 the heathen; of itinerancies and Sabbath-schools 
 in her own country ; of recalling the attention of 
 unbelieving Jews to the meaning of their own 
 Scriptures, and the other evidences that Jesus is 
 the Christ ; of translating the holy Scriptures into 
 every language ; and of filling the world, Greek 
 church, popish, and protestant, Mahommedan and 
 pagan, with copies to every man, in his own tongue, 
 of the ever-living and life giving oracles of God. 
 
 The kind of preaching, and of public worship to 
 which she had been accustomed in the different 
 places of her residence in the country, were far 
 from corresponding with her recently acquired 
 evangelical and impressive views of divine truth. 
 She gladly embraced, therefore, opportunities of 
 visiting Edinburgh, where she could have choice 
 of preachers, a wider circle of Christian friends, 
 and more abundant means of obtaining instruc- 
 tion, and enjoying comfort and encouragement in 
 holding fast the confession of her hope. Here she 
 soon began to prefer the itinerant and congrega- 
 tional preachers, for the simplicity, as she termed 
 it, as well as seriousness of their preaching, and for 
 the efforts they were making to form their Christian 
 fellowship solely according to the rules and exam- 
 ples of holy Scripture. She disapproved of the 
 
17 
 
 promiscuous state of communion which necessarily 
 obtains in every national church ; felt the want of 
 faithfulness in the usual way of admitting persons, 
 especially of the higher ranks, to the Lord's table; 
 and could not submit to human authority in oppo- 
 sition to the revealed will of the divine Saviour. 
 
 On returning to the country, she decidedly 
 refused to hear parish ministers, who did not 
 preach the gospel : and left off joining in com- 
 munion at sacraments, which she had been for- 
 merly in the habit of attending. She not only dis- 
 regarded the opinion of the world, but declined 
 compliance with the advice of fellow Christians, 
 when she detected in it conformity to the world, 
 rather than being " transformed by the renewing 
 of the mind, and proving what is that good, and 
 acceptable, and perfect will of God." She was 
 particularly surprised and shocked at attempts 
 which were made by some ministers of the estab- 
 lishment, whom she esteemed and loved as dis- 
 ciples of Christ, but who advised her to attend a 
 parish church in the country, where the gospel was 
 not preached, rather than give an example of dis- 
 sent ; representing it as a want of spirituality, and 
 of self-denial, and as an evidence of presumption, 
 if she should act in a different manner. 
 
 She could not, however, reconcile her mind to 
 various evils, which she was grieved to find pre- 
 vailing around her: doctrine, in her judgment, 
 
18 
 
 frequently erroneous, or confused, or inconsistent, 
 or brought forward in a careless and uninteresting 
 manner: people generally disposed to a self righte- 
 ous system ; having a form of godliness (some- 
 times little even of that), but denying the power 
 thereof: giving no conscientious attention to the 
 religious instruction, and education of children at 
 home ; or to the word and worship of God in the 
 family: leaving every thing to the week-day school- 
 master: jealous of Sabbath schools: ashamed to 
 countenance itinerant and dissenting preachers, 
 even when they acknowledged them to be needful: 
 and so opposed to the alarming and humbling 
 doctrines of the gospel, that when she spoke even 
 to the sick and dying of the mercy of God through 
 Christ as the sinner's hope ; of the state and cha- 
 racter of every man as a sinner ; of the corruption 
 of the hearty and the guilt of the life; of the neces- 
 sity, and the perfection, of the atonement of Christ; 
 of the renewing of the Holy Spirit; and of the 
 exaltation of Christ as a Prince and a Saviour to 
 give repentance and the forgiveness of sins ; — they 
 sometimes assured her that she was mistaken in 
 their character; that she must have been misin- 
 formed by calumniators ; that they were not such 
 as she had perhaps been accustomed to meet with 
 in other parts of the country ; that she did not 
 know them, otherwise she would have formed a 
 more favourable opinion. 
 
19 
 
 Seeing herself, and her neighbours, surrounded 
 with such grievous disadvantages, she was led to 
 search the Scriptures, with earnest prayer, that she 
 might learn the duty of Christians in promoting 
 the interests of the gospel in the world, and in 
 providing themselves with the means of enjoying 
 the blessings of church fellowship for mutual edifi- 
 cation. She soon saw how plain and easy the path 
 of duty is, in these, as in all other cases. She 
 procured visits from itinerant, and congregational 
 preachers to Auldkirk, a village in the vicinity of 
 the place where she then lived. A congregation 
 was raised ; a house was hired, and soon after a 
 meeting-house built, for their accommodation ; at 
 last a congregational church was formed, which 
 continues to this day, and out of which were early 
 furnished the first materials of a larger church, 
 which has now subsisted several years, in that 
 extensive and important sphere of usefulness, the 
 town of Greenock. — I know no way, in which the 
 work of God may be more speedily or extensively 
 revived in every part of this country, than that 
 Christians act in the same decided manner, where- 
 ever it is their lot to dwell. Say not, we can do 
 nothing, because we live in a wilderness. It is the 
 very reason why you should do something. And 
 what you can do is perfectly obvious. Bring to 
 your wilderness the preaching of the gospel. In- 
 vite those, whom you know to preach it in other 
 
20 
 
 places ; who are ready to come, at your call, to 
 visit you lor the same purpose. And look to God 
 for his promised blessing, " The wilderness and 
 the solitary place shall be glad for them, and the 
 desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose."* 
 
 The reasons, and the manner, of her dissent 
 from the church of Scotland, it was necessary to 
 mention, in giving an account of Mrs. Swing's 
 religious progress. On the particulars, however, 
 I need not further enlarge, as the reader will be 
 much better pleased to see them stated by Mrs. 
 Ewinff herself, in a letter which was written, I 
 believe, in 1821, to a young friend, who had 
 requested a correspondence with her on the subject 
 of religion, and which that friend has now kindly 
 sent me, and permitted me to publish. It was 
 evidently written in haste, and without the most 
 distant view to publication. On the latter account 
 it appears to me peculiarly valuable ; and though 
 she might have wished to have made it a more 
 finished composition ; I am certain she would not 
 be ashamed of a sentiment it contains. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. E r, 
 
 " My wish to write you, ever since I got your 
 letter, of the 21st September, has been very strong, 
 but hitherto I have been wholly unable. As I 
 told you at church, my last week's hindrance was 
 
 * Isa. XXXV. 1. 
 
21 
 
 illness. It strikes me, that in beginning a corre- 
 spondence, in which religion is to hold the promi- 
 nent place, and after receiving a statement of your 
 views and feelings on this point, the best plan I 
 can follow is to give you some account of mine. 
 My ideas, in early life, were very vague as to the 
 character of God, and the nature of worship. I 
 merely remember, that when any thing of a distress- 
 ing nature occurred to me, was it but a dispute with 
 a playmate, the first thought was, " Have I forgot 
 to say my prayers." This was mere superstition, 
 for I do not remember attaching an idea to the 
 words I repeated. When about thirteen, I began 
 to have new ideas on these subjects, took delight 
 in contemplating God in his works, and the ordi- 
 nary round of duties. I can truly say, my most 
 pleasing hours were then spent in reading, singing 
 hymns, and in prayer. I thought, in this way, I 
 should attain the favour of God, and become good. 
 When my good resolutions and devotional plans 
 were broken in upon, and conscience told me I 
 was wrong, I used to be very unhappy, and gene- 
 rally healed this by new resolutions and new efforts, 
 which were as ill adhered to, and cause of new 
 sorrow. When between fourteen and fifteen, I 
 had a great desire to go with my mother and sister 
 to attend the preachings, and be a communicant 
 at Eastwood. My mother told me I was too young 
 to understand the nature of it, and I must stay 
 
22 
 
 at home with Sir John, and take charge in her 
 absence. Till the same period came, the following 
 year, when I was allowed to go, I was very unhappy. 
 My mind had been very deeply impressed with two 
 sermons, one on the omnipresence of God, and the 
 other on the certainty of death and the uncer- 
 tainty of its summons, — but it was in a volume as 
 destitute of what could instruct me, as to the 
 character of God, and Christ, and myself as a 
 sinner, and the method of salvation, to give per- 
 manent peace and joy, and in believing, as the 
 volume 3'OU quote, Blair's Sermons. Therefore, I 
 was awakened to new diligence in the old way; 
 and viewing the Lord's Supper as a commanded 
 duty, I was very miserable at not having obeyed 
 it, and was in constant dread of death, thinking 
 my case, on that account, very alarming. It was 
 joy and delight when I was permitted to go, and 
 much time was spent in fitting myself to join, 
 and I suppose my comfort was such as is felt by 
 those who think they really are absolved from 
 their sins when a fellow sinner performs this won- 
 der. You who have heard and read gospel doc- 
 trine, may wonder at my ignorance, but I must 
 account for it by telling you that, to the best of 
 my knowledge, I never heard a gospel sermon ; 
 and, though I am sure there were Christian cha- 
 racters with whom I had met, and your excellent 
 mother was one of them, I am almost certain I 
 
23 
 
 had no distinct instruction in any other way than in 
 this, oi working for life. My religious reading was 
 very bad indeed ; Blair's, Fordyce's, Sterne's Ser- 
 mons, and such like. No one questioned me as 
 to my views, young as I was, in going to the 
 Lord's Supper, and I well remember the answer 
 given by the minister when he was asked if he 
 wished to speak with me, was, it was quite unne- 
 cessary. I felt increasing importance in religion, 
 but never understood any thing of the true God 
 and eternal life, till about eighteen. I have no 
 doubt he awakened in my conscience a painful 
 sense of my sins, and shortcomings to what I knew 
 of his commandments, but I never till then saw 
 the spirituality of His Law, which being holy, 
 just, and good, proved me guilty, and unable to 
 do any thing, in whole or in part, to justify myself 
 before Him. I never till then saw the suitable- 
 ness of that atonement made for sin, by Him who 
 laid down his life in the room of the guilty. It 
 was then that the love of God, in sending his 
 beloved Son to seek and to save the lost, appeared 
 at once to relieve from guilty fear, and to bind, by 
 the strongest ties of gratitude, in endeavouring to 
 serve him in newness of life ; and the promise of 
 the Holy Spirit to shed abroad that love in the 
 heart, and to work in me both to will and to do of 
 his good pleasure, gave all that was necessary ; for 
 I knew, by bitter heart-rending experience, it was 
 
24 
 
 not in me to think even a good thought abidingly. 
 The means that it pleased God to use to open the 
 eyes of both my beloved sister and myself, was 
 Doddridge's Rise and Progress of Religion in the 
 Soul. How it came into our hands we never could 
 trace. It is a very awakening searching book, and 
 though there are some things in it which we did 
 not approve, yet it led us to Scriptural views of 
 ourselves, of the world, as all corrupt, of the only 
 way in which God could be just, and justify the 
 ungodly, and, I may say, led us to bring its own 
 doctrines to the test of Scripture. 
 
 " I have little more to say as to my views as to 
 how a sinner is accepted with God ; my progress 
 in knowledge was slow; one great hindrance was 
 the want of the means of grace. In five different 
 parishes, in which I resided, and under nine differ- 
 ent ministers, the gospel of the grace of God was 
 not preached. After your mother went to Glas- 
 gow, by her means we saw the Evangelical Maga- 
 zine sometimes. The accounts it contained of the 
 formation of the Missionary Society, and other 
 attempts for promoting the cause of God, I often 
 tell Mr. Ewing was the means of teaching me 
 economy, and the value of money. Till then, my 
 quarterly payment was always forestalled by incon- 
 sideration of one kind or another; for even what 
 was extolled as benevolence and generosity, was 
 nothing better than yielding to sympathy and 
 
25 
 
 lively feeling. But I saw when it required money 
 to use the means to save precious immortal souls, 
 I was accountable to God, as a steward, and that 
 there was an object to be attained worth thinking 
 about. When I was delighted with the zeal and 
 self denial of Missionaries going into foreign 
 climes, I often wished some such would visit 
 Scotland. 
 
 "You can hardly, then, form an idea of the 
 pleasure conveyed to me by a pamphlet your 
 mother put into my hands, giving the journal of 
 the first itinerancies of Messrs. Haldane, Aikman, 
 and Rait ; and I accepted an invitation to go to 
 Edinburgh in 1798, chiefly from the wish to meet 
 with them, if possible, though I did not know any 
 person who knew them. My stay in Edinburgh 
 
 was protracted, owing to Mr. C of C 's 
 
 coming in to get medical assistance, from Octo- 
 ber 1798 to May 1799. During that time I 
 heard all the gospel ministers in the establish- 
 ment, and none other, forenoon and afternoon; 
 but I went as often as I could in the evening of 
 Sabbath to the Circus, and longed for the evening, 
 I liked the style of preaching so much. Some of 
 the established ministers expostulated with me for 
 doing so, and I told them, my only reason was 
 that I found the style more suitable for me, which 
 I attributed to my ignorance, as I thought I was 
 not well enough instructed in the first principles 
 
26 
 
 to be able to benefit by their addresses to Chris- 
 tians. 
 
 " When I returned home* I was more than ever 
 grieved for the want of the gospel, both on my 
 own account, and on account of the people of the 
 parish, who were dreadfully ignorant. When I 
 visited them in sickness, or poverty, and spoke to 
 them as sinners needing salvation, they assured me 
 they were not sinners ; but some of them excused 
 me for speaking so to them, as they knew in Pol- 
 lockshaws there were very bad characters. This 
 led me to adopt the plan of writing to Mr. Ewing 
 (whom I did not then know,) for preachers to come 
 down. My mother also got a Sabbath school and 
 a serious teacher. 
 
 " The way I had been myself received as a com- 
 municant, and the mixture of moral and immoral, 
 religious and irreligious, without discrimination, 
 who I saw were alike made welcome at the Lord's 
 table, by both gospel ministers and careless ones, 
 in the Church of Scotland and the Church of Eng- 
 land, made me wonder greatly. I questioned some 
 of them on the subject, and asked them if they did 
 not think it was calculated to deceive. Some said 
 they fenced the tables, and it was at their own 
 peril if any improper characters joined. Others 
 said it was vain to try to keep back such, for other 
 ministers would receive them, and if once received 
 
 * To Ardgowan. 
 
27 
 
 by any, they must ever after, or be subject to cen- 
 sure in church courts. Others said that they might 
 be prosecuted in a civil court, if they refused ; and 
 some, that they could comfortably sit with a mur- 
 derer on one hand, and a drunkard on the other, 
 and hold communion with God. As to the Church 
 of England, I knew none could be kept back if 
 they choose to come, except they could be excom- 
 municated. 
 
 " When I was led to feel uneasy on this subject, 
 on account of some dear to me, who, I thought, 
 were deceived by a round of externals in religion, 
 some passages of my Bible struck me, as teaching 
 a different mode from any I knew of, for I had not 
 then ever heard of any person or church who did. 
 I felt anguish at the idea of my aiding in deluding 
 any, after testifying to them that they were not 
 building on the true foundation of hope, by seem- 
 ing to unite with them in professing that we both 
 were believers in Christ. This led me to earnest 
 prayer to God for direction, and knowing all his 
 will was to be found revealed in his word, 1 began 
 reading the New Testament, on my knees, entreat- 
 ing the Lord to lead me to see where the error 
 was, and to instruct me that I might follow, not 
 others, but be guided by Him. 
 
 " I was much astonished to find how much bore 
 on the nature and duty of a church, and soon came 
 to see that it was owing to the blindness of my 
 
28 
 
 mind that I had been so much perplexed. The 
 manner in which the churches are addressed by the 
 Apostles, in the Epistles, shews what the charac- 
 ters were who had been received. Our Saviour's 
 directions to his Disciples, and the very words of 
 our Lord, when he instituted the Lord's Supper, 
 seemed to me indubitable evidence, that only those 
 who are his children by faith are by him accounted 
 fit. I saw there were rules to be followed that 
 would prevent unbelievers being received as such, 
 and rules by which, if any by hypocrisy crept in, 
 they would be, on detection, excluded. I saw pro- 
 mises to obedience in this, and threatenings to dis- 
 obedience. It even appears that He will permit 
 some hypocrites to creep in, for the very purpose 
 of proving the fidelity of his servants. When I 
 came to some clear notions of v/hat a Church of 
 Christ should be, I did not know if there were any 
 of this description in existence, and therefore, as 
 from conscience, I could no longer be a member of 
 a mixed church, you may guess, I w^as very thank- 
 ful when I found there were some who had united 
 on the same principles. 
 
 " Now, my reason for giving you this history of 
 myself, is (as it relates to my views of a church), 
 you speak of the difference between an Episcopa- 
 lian and Independent, as immaterial. What I 
 have seen as a part of the will of that God who is 
 so wise as to do nothing and require nothing in 
 
29 
 
 vain, cannot be so accounted by me. And I can 
 truly say, I have not been swayed by the piety, or 
 talents, or learning of men at all, either in forming 
 or estimating my judgment in this matter. Indeed, 
 I experienced that, in complying with my convic- 
 tions, I had all the temptations on the other side 
 — all my worldly friends, and I must say, the most 
 of my Christian friends, were much opposed to it. 
 The more I study the Scriptures, the more I see 
 the effects of scriptural churches, the more I also 
 see of the wisdom and goodness of God to his peo- 
 ple — when thus separated, and thus following all 
 his will. Though I am thus avowedly an Inde- 
 pendent, I feel no difficulty in loving all of every 
 sect and name, who love our Lord Jesus Christ in 
 sincerity, and rejoice in joining with them in every 
 act of worship, and every thing, in which they do 
 not unite with themselves, those who give evidence 
 they are not one in Christ Jesus. 
 
 " I shall be happy to hear from you after you 
 have read this very tedious letter, which, from want 
 of time, I have not been able to compress. You 
 will not criticise the style, but I should like to have 
 your observations — how far you go along with me, 
 and where you differ. In some places, I dare say, 
 my meaning may be obscure; point this out, and 
 ask explanation without ceremony. It will give 
 me very great pleasure if I can be of any use to 
 you, and perhaps you will write with more satis- 
 
faction to me that you know more distinctly my 
 
 sentiments. 
 
 " I remain, 
 
 " My dear Mrs. E r, 
 
 " Yours sincerely and affectionately, 
 
 " B. EWING." 
 
 To the above, I shall add a short extract from 
 another letter, to the same correspondent, because, 
 although written in great haste, and containing 
 hints only, it appears to me to suggest what is cal- 
 culated to be useful, as well as to illustrate the 
 character of the writer, 
 
 " My dear Mrs. E r, 
 
 " I have not at present time to enter fully into 
 the subject on which we differ as to justification; 
 I would refer you to the Eleventh Article of Reli- 
 gion in your own Prayer Book, and when we meet, 
 I will state how I think James, in his Epistle, 
 teaches the same doctrine. — I very much approve 
 of your endeavouring to instruct your servants, 
 and think plain reading to them is an admirable 
 means ; even if you put good books into their 
 hands, they read so ill in general as not to under- 
 stand. Burder's Village Sermons have been very 
 useful in that very line. There are a few plain 
 tracts, too, that I think peculiarly suited for this 
 purpose ; I will endeavour to pick some out for 
 
31 
 
 you of those I like, and you can read them first 
 yourself. Besides reading, a word or two of per- 
 sonal address is very useful — such as saying, before 
 you begin, that it is with an impression of the 
 danger of their immortal souls, if they are without 
 faith in Christ, that you read to them; or, stopping 
 when you feel the importance of any sentence, 
 and entreating them to apply it to their own con- 
 sciences, as they must give an account to God for 
 having heard the word that saves the soul. I write 
 in great haste, but you will excuse it. May the 
 Lord lead and guide you into all truth, and estab- 
 lish you in the faith and hope of the Gospel, and 
 bless you, and honour you to gain the souls of all 
 those dear to you, and who, from being under your 
 roof, are committed in a manner to your care. 
 « I am, 
 
 " My dear Mrs. E r, 
 
 " Yours very affectionately, 
 
 " B. EWING." 
 «4, Carlton Place, 16th Nov. 1821." 
 
 Since the first edition was published, I have 
 been favoured with the perusal of some of Mrs. 
 Ewing's letters to a Christian friend, at an earlier 
 period, from three of which I subjoin extracts, as 
 manifesting at the time, the state of mind, described 
 afterwards by herself, in the former of the two 
 preceding letters. 
 
32 
 
 " Pollok, June 24th, 180L 
 
 " Your letter, my dear Miss S e, would not 
 
 have been so long unanswered had I been well, 
 but soon after 1 wrote you, a trifling cold I took 
 soon after I left Edinburgh increased very much, 
 and after the cough abated, a great weakness and 
 pain in my breast remained, and writing I felt 
 painful. — I have been here and at Craigends for 
 change of air, which has had so much effect, that 
 I am now almost perfectly restored to my wonted 
 health and strength, and return home to-morrow. 
 I am sure you will admit my apology for my 
 silence, and I hope will give me a proof of it by 
 writing soon. I have experienced much of the 
 Lord's goodness in every period of my life, but I 
 never was more sensible of his mercy than in this 
 fit of illness. While I could look round me and 
 see many of the Lord's dear children in deep 
 distress and sufferings, I who am the chief of 
 sinners was afflicted in measure, and while they 
 were in want of almost every thing that could 
 outwardly mitigate, I had every outward comfort. 
 — Indeed I see much cause to wonder at the 
 Lord's dealings. 
 
 " July 4:th. Though I begun ten days ago, I have 
 never had it in my power till now to resume my 
 pen, though I assure you I have not been without 
 the inclination. I really fear you will think my 
 long silence unkind, but it has not been my choice. 
 
I returned home to Ardgowan this day week, and 
 there has been constant company ever since that has 
 
 entirely occupied me Your letter gave me 
 
 much pleasure, and 1 promise myself much from the 
 continuation of your correspondence ; don't forget 
 the notes of the sermon you promised me, and 
 whenever you indulge me with any, remember you 
 confer a very great obligation on me. I can 
 promise you no return in that w^ay, for when I 
 attempt it you have no idea how poor a business I 
 make of it. I was much pleased with your anec- 
 dotes of the old woman ; I am sure it would fill 
 you with gratitude and joy, to be permitted to 
 administer to the comfort of any of the Lord's 
 poor but dear afflicted ones, and I think I never 
 heard any thing more suited to afford consolation 
 than that sermon of Mr. P — s. I often think of 
 both it and the one on ' Woe to them that are at 
 ease in Zion,' which was one of the most searching 
 things I every met with. We are so apt to say, 
 
 * Peace, peace,' that we need to be alarmed and 
 roused. Does it not appear wonderful that ever 
 we should be careless and secure, when we con- 
 sider the unspeakable importance of having our 
 hearts right with God. Ah if we realized this, 
 that a weight of misery or a weight of glory must 
 be our portion, could we give sleep to our eyes, 
 could we think on any thing else till we could say, 
 
 * I know whom I have believed, and that he is 
 
34 
 
 able to keep that which I have committed unto 
 him against that day.' The carelessness of the old 
 woman you mention, is almost inconceivable, if we 
 did not know of those who are in a natural state, that 
 Satan is said to have blinded their minds. I was 
 particularly struck with a visit I had the very day, 
 I believe, I begun this letter, from an old woman 
 who only left this last term, after being three 
 years in the house. "While here, she used often 
 to borrow my books, but seemed to have no more 
 relish for spiritual things, than any other one in 
 the house. When she went away she bid my 
 maid ask me to let her keep for a while a copy of 
 Newton's Hymns, some of which I had )|arked for 
 her when she lost her youngest daughter, who was 
 but a short time married, and I gave her some 
 tracts. She said she had come to thank me for 
 all my kindness while she was at Ardgowan, not 
 having had an opportunity there, and burst out a 
 crying. I thought she alluded to my having given 
 her some mournings when her daughter died, and 
 having lent her books, and told her I had and 
 still sympathized with her, and was going on to 
 lead her mind where true comfort alone was to be 
 found, when she stopped me by saying, it was not 
 her temporal concerns that was giving her distress. 
 She could not say much for crying, and it was 
 really affecting to see an old woman a good deal 
 above 60, seemingly so much in earnest. She 
 
35 
 
 spoke as if it had been a short time before she left 
 us, that she had begun to think. She listened to 
 me with the greatest attention, while I tried to 
 speak to her the best way I could. I had expected 
 another opportunity of conversing with her, and 
 had hoped to have drawn out her views, which 
 would have given me more advantage in helping 
 her, but was disappointed. I think often of her. 
 Oh if it please the Lord to make use of a weak 
 instrument, and bless what he helps me to say ! 
 I propose sending her Doddridge's Rise and Pro- 
 gress of Religion in the Soul, which the Lord made 
 very useful to both myself and my dear sister, 
 whose deathbed scene you may have heard me 
 speak of. It gives clear and deep views of sin, 
 and then leads to the only method of salvation ; 
 but it is likely you may have read it. Till we see 
 our depravity and total helplessness, it is impossi- 
 ble we can feel our want of Christ as a complete 
 Saviour. You see I have written a long letter to 
 encourage you to do the same ; I hope you will 
 not be long of writing me. I have seldom any 
 opportunity of conversing with those of my own 
 sentiments, so that a letter from a Christian friend 
 has a double relish. I have lately lost a dear 
 
 Christian friend, a mother in Israel, Mrs. S n, 
 
 on Leith Walk. Her death was the most trium- 
 phant one I ever knew, her last words were, ' I am 
 
36 
 
 more than conqueror !' I am sorry I have not 
 room to give you a further account of it, perhaps 
 I may in my next. It is very animating when 
 we hear of this, to think the residue of the Spirit 
 is with him who has promised to give it to them 
 that ask. That you and 1 may live to his glory, 
 and bear a dying testimony to the truth as it is 
 in Jesus, is the earnest prayer of, my dear Miss 
 
 S e, your sincere and affectionate friend, 
 
 " Barbara Maxwell." 
 
 " Ardgowan, August Sd, 1801. 
 " Your very acceptable letter I received ten days 
 
 ago, for which, my dear Miss S e, I return you 
 
 many thanks, as also for the large and excellent 
 notes of the sermon, which were quite a treat. I 
 think, from the sample you have given me of Mr. 
 
 S t's style of preaching, I may congratulate you 
 
 on his having got a call to your neighbourhood ; 
 and it is my earnest desire that his labours may be 
 greatly blessed to your soul, and the souls of all who 
 sit under his ministry. However well you may 
 hitherto have been supplied with good young men 
 as preachers, a stated ministry seems more calcu- 
 lated for usefulness, both because one who knows 
 the characters of the people he is living among has 
 greater advantage in addressing them, and that 
 they have the benefit of his private advices, as well 
 
37 
 
 as his public teaching. I regret you are so far from 
 the place of worship, as I am sure you must find 
 it at all times very inconvenient, and often be disap- 
 pointed. It gratified me much to think my letter 
 was in any degree comfortable to you, and it fills 
 me with wonder to think the Lord should honour 
 such an unworthy creature as I am in making me 
 instrumental of any good ; that any thing I should 
 write should be helpful in spiritualizing another, 
 when I am so much the reverse myself, shows we 
 are just what God makes us to each other. Happy 
 will it be for us if the Lord blesses our correspond- 
 ence, in making it a mean of leading us nearer 
 to himself. Let it be our mutual prayer that it 
 may be so. You say you are anxious to hear more 
 of the old woman I wrote you of. I saw her, and 
 had some conversation with her the very morning 
 before I received your letter. I had intended 
 writing her, and sending her Doddridge's Rise and 
 Progress, &c., but found afterwards it would not 
 be easy to get it safely conveyed to her from par- 
 ticular circumstances, so I was particularly glad of 
 this opportunity of meeting with her. I saw she 
 felt a great degree of diffidence in speaking to me, 
 which made me not ask her so many questions as 
 I should have liked, fearing, if I had done so, it 
 might have made her avoid meeting me at some 
 future period ; but what she did say pleased me 
 much, and she wept much when speaking of her 
 
38 
 
 family, of which only one is living, saying, she had 
 toiled all her life to support their bodies, and put 
 them in decent situations, but she had sadly ne- 
 glected their souls' interests, as well as her own, 
 which was now a heavy matter to her. She said 
 her situation (which is a busy one) often diverted 
 her from the gloomy views she had of herself, but 
 this was not now her wish. She said her mind 
 generally was in darkness, though sometimes she 
 had comfort in duty. Here I should have liked 
 to have asked what it was that that comfort was 
 drawn from, but thought it best not, but only to 
 try and direct her to where the only true comfort 
 was to be found, and to warn, that all which could 
 not be traced to that source was to be feared and 
 questioned. I trust she is truly in earnest, and if 
 so, the Lord will reveal himself to her, and teach 
 her by his Spirit. — I had a letter lately from Lady 
 
 L 1. She has been complaining, though now 
 
 better. She once proposed seeing her friends in 
 the west country, but now seems uncertain if she 
 will make it out this summer. I never wonder at 
 people being unwilling to leave home, I have such 
 a dislike to it myself, except when going among 
 the Lord's people. I was on a visit when I received 
 your letter. I never go any where that I possibly 
 can avoid ; but though I find it hurts and dissipates 
 my mind sadly, yet I cannot see it duty to give up 
 my near relations, as it might give them wrong 
 
39 
 
 notions of religion, thinking it tended to make one 
 gloomy, and to break those bonds of affection 
 which it is our duty to show is made stronger by 
 it. Till we see them as creatures not merely of a 
 day, but who are made for an eternal world, we 
 may love them in a selfish way, but we never can 
 feel that deep interest in them that this view is 
 calculated to give. — I was in Glasgow a Sabbath, 
 and was all day at the Tabernacle, and joined as an 
 occasional communicant, which, indeed, I have 
 done before. It was a sweet day to me. Mr. Ewing 
 lectured ; Mr. Aikman, from Edinburgh, preached 
 both the afternoon and evening sermon. His after- 
 noon text was, * And such were some of you, but 
 ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are 
 justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by 
 the Spirit of our God :' a most comfortable sub- 
 ject, and much suited to the state of my mind. 
 In the evening, he had a remarkably striking ser- 
 mon from these words, ' And the Lord God said 
 unto Adam, Where art thou ?' — After introducing 
 his subject by saying, no Scripture was of private 
 interpretation, but applicable to all, he wished to 
 improve the one he had chosen by asking this 
 question. Where art thou ? at all his hearers, and 
 it was one of the utmost consequence to consider, 
 as it was one that assuredly the Lord God would 
 ask at every individual. He had no heads, but 
 put the question to every different character ; the 
 
40 
 
 Infidel, the Deist, the Self- Righteous, the Form- 
 alist, the Hypocrite, the Careless, &c. When 
 addressing those who went with the multitude, and 
 said. If they were wrong, they were in no worse a 
 situation than others, he had a very striking, and 
 to me a new, view of the rich man in hell's request 
 for his brothers, in proving this their prop would 
 be an aggravation of their misery. He said, this 
 wish that one from the dead should be sent to warn 
 them of their danger, did not flow from commis- 
 eration ; no part of Scripture warranted us to be- 
 lieve any amiable feeling was to be found in hell ; but 
 from the knowledge, that as he had either led them 
 into, or been a partaker of their wickedness, their 
 accusations would be an addition to his misery. 
 It appeared to him, that their being joined by their 
 associates in wickedness, made part of their tor- 
 ment, and quoted as his authority for this opinion, 
 * Bind them in bundles,' in the parable of the wheat 
 and tares. I never was so much struck before with 
 Mr. Aikman's preaching. We have Mr. Ewing's 
 assistant staying here just now for sea-bathing. 
 You probably have heard of Mr. Greig, as he was 
 one of the Missionaries on board the Duff when it 
 was captured. His health suffered very severely 
 from his ill treatment while a prisoner, and he has 
 been worse this summer. He has been recruited 
 a little by the bathing, indeed so much so, that 
 he preached to us all last Sabbath, that our 
 
41 
 
 minister might get across the water, where, I 
 probably have before mentioned, there is a great 
 desire to hear, and where they have been particu- 
 larly anxious Mr. Robertson should go to them 
 on a Sabbath, which he liad never had it in his 
 power to do before. We were all much pleased 
 with Mr. Greig. He seems a truly pious man. I 
 have no opportunity, however, of getting acquainted 
 with him. — I must now conclude, as I have an op- 
 portunity to send this to Glasgow. I hope you 
 will write me as soon as you conveniently can, as 
 I value your letters very highly indeed, and to me 
 letters are peculiarly a charity. 
 
 " I remain, with much affection, 
 " Your sincere friend, 
 
 ** Barbara Maxwell." 
 
 " Ardgowan, Oct. 3d, 1801. 
 " There is only one thing I have to find fault 
 
 with in your letters, my dear Miss S e, and that 
 
 I must make a point may never be in them again, 
 and that is a supposition I may be wearied of their 
 length. You really can have no notion what a 
 treat you furnish me with. I really tire for your 
 letters, and never finished reading one without 
 regret it was no longer. I grudge to exact more 
 of your time, but perhaps if you wrote a bit every 
 now and then, when you found time, you might 
 indulge me with more ; and, believe me, you could 
 
49 
 
 not confer a greater favour. I feel much obliged 
 to you, and more than obliged to you, for your 
 last letter, which contained much indeed. I almost 
 feel envious of your talent for writing notes of 
 what you hear. One thing that in part reconciles 
 me to my deficiency in this, is that I think I should 
 perhaps be vain of it. It is very desireable, both 
 on one's own account, and for the benefit and com- 
 fort of others. — For my own use I generally only 
 mark down any new view of Scripture I hear 
 in the lecture, and the practical improvement of a 
 sermon. I try to make out the heads and par- 
 ticulars, but even in the most striking sermons I 
 sometimes find this not very easy, though I some- 
 times think before I begin I could write it all. Of 
 late I have been writing out as much as I could 
 remember, to send to a young friend whose mind 
 seems very decidedly bent on the best things, but 
 even my desire to be useful to her cannot produce 
 much, and that httle but indistinct. 
 
 " Saturday night. — I must finish my letter to^ 
 night as I have an opportunity to send it to Mrs. 
 H., who forwards it early on Monday, and yet I 
 hardly know how to do it, there is such a weight 
 on my spirits. Since I wrote in the morning I 
 have heard of the death, and suddenly too, of a 
 very thoughtless young woman, a friend of mine. 
 I have heard too that a Christian friend's life is 
 despaired of; and I have been witnessing a very 
 
43 
 
 melancholy scene. A young woman, not a year 
 married, was delivered of twins (one of which was 
 dead born). Sabbath se'ennight, during her labour, 
 she was in nervous fits, and soon after fevered. 
 The fever has taken her head, and they have had 
 difficulty to hold her in her bed for some days. 
 She is thought to be dying. I did not see her, as 
 she had been very high all night, and was then 
 lying comparatively quiet, but it was affecting to 
 hear the recital of her situation from a weeping 
 mother. Every one is astonished at the wonder- 
 ful composure of her poor husband ; but I trust it 
 is because, while he experiences the truth, that in 
 the world he must have tribulation, he has peace 
 in God. He is one of those whom we have every 
 reason to believe the word has come to with power 
 under Mr. Robertson's ministry amongst us. Every 
 thing around us is reminding us of our mortality, 
 even while in health, and the deaths of those whom 
 we have known, I think, especially have a warning 
 voice, telling us to prepare also, as we know not 
 but we shall be the next called to appear at the 
 bar of God's judgment. I promised to send Mr. 
 Newton's Letters to Jenny Ramsay, to some person, 
 and it strikes me it was you, but I have looked for 
 them in vain ; the copy I once had of them on 
 loose paper is gone, and the other is in a book, 
 with many other things, too large to send ; but in 
 looking for them I found one of Mr. N.'s that I think 
 
1,4 
 
 is excellent, and, as it has never been published, it 
 is likely you may never have seen it : if you like, 
 you may take a copy, but I must beg to have it 
 returned first time you write, as I have not yet 
 copied it into the above mentioned book, where I 
 generally insert any thing as well worth the pre- 
 serving. I am glad to hear you have the prospect 
 of being in Edinburgh this winter. It is the place 
 of all others on earth I like to be in, and that I 
 rejoice most to hear of my friends being in who 
 know how to value its high privileges. — I really 
 grieve for your disappointment with regard to Mr. 
 S— — t, but trust the Lord will send you one after 
 his own heart, and in his own time. I once thought 
 with you that it was my duty to go to church 
 where the gospel was not preached, wheni could not 
 get elsewhere, but I must own it now appears in 
 a different light. My idea is, that where the gos- 
 pel is neither preached, nor known, nor felt, nor 
 practised, the minister and people are like the 
 Athenians, worshipping an unknown God ; there- 
 fore, joining with them appears to me to be join- 
 ing and confirming them, as far as we can by our 
 example, in idolatry or mockery. Surely it is a 
 snare to those who are ignorant, when they see 
 those who profess other things joining with them 
 in worship : they must naturally conclude they are 
 not so far wrong, and that the difference must be 
 in non-essentials. Surely this (if it has this effect) 
 
45 
 
 cannot be for the gloiy of God, or for the good of 
 the souls of others, and I do not think we can say 
 we get any benefit to our own souls. False doc- 
 trine never can feed the soul, but, I think, is cal- 
 culated to deaden it and make it grow lean. You 
 see how freely I write my sentiments to you, not 
 as any rule of conduct for you, but wishing to dis- 
 cuss the subject with one I hope to reap benefit 
 and instruction from. Tell me plainly whenever 
 you think me wrong, and you have my thanks 
 beforehand. — I am sure this is a very confused 
 letter, but this my correspondents must lay their 
 accounts with. To-morrow is the Lord's day. Oh 
 that it may be greatly blessed to our souls ! It is a 
 wise appointment that we should rest from our 
 labours, retire from the world, and devote a day in 
 seven to the care of our immortal souls. Oh that 
 we may be prepared to begin an eternal Sabbath 
 in the worship of God in the Temple above ! 
 
 Write soon, my dear Miss S , to your very 
 
 sincere and affectionate friend, 
 
 " B. Maxwell." 
 
 Mrs. Swing's superior talents and amiable tem- 
 per had been cultivated with every possible ad- 
 vantage of education, not only by her excellent 
 governess, but by the first masters in every useful 
 and elegant accomplishment, both in Edinburgh 
 and London. She had also the best opportunities 
 
46 
 
 of seeing the most polished society. Her step- 
 father, himself a man of very powerful mind, and 
 eno-agino- qualities, was in habits of intimacy with 
 the first people of his day, to whom he every where 
 proved a centre of attraction. For many years 
 he was almost constantly in parliament, during 
 which his family sometimes spent the winter in 
 London; and there were very few places of note, or 
 interest, or general resort, in any part of the 
 island, which they did not occasionally reside in, 
 or visit, in the other seasons of the year. Besides 
 the circle she daily moved in at home, therefore, 
 there were many persons of eminence and cele- 
 brity, in all parts of the kingdom, whom she had, 
 more or less, seen and known, in her younger days. 
 When, with these opportunities of improve- 
 ment, she came to enjoy the renovating influence 
 of Divine Grace, the result was admirable. Her 
 knowledge of the world, her correct sense of pro- 
 priety, her elegant manners, her powers of con- 
 versation ; combined with a thorough acquaintance 
 with the nature of the principles she had embraced, 
 and the most conscientious integrity, and affec- 
 tionate modest humble zeal; — these rare qualities 
 added such winning and commanding influence to 
 the example she gave of true religion ; that its 
 friends were delighted, and its enemies often 
 alarmed. With simplicity of heart she made 
 a solemn avowal of Christian principle, and 
 
47 
 
 adhered to it inflexibly on all occasions. At the 
 same time, her open profession of the faith of 
 Christ was entirely free from moroseness. She was 
 deeply serious, yet always cheerful ; cheerful often 
 to liveliness, yet always composed. She was uni- 
 formly decided in declining whatever she consid- 
 ered as sinful compliance ; but never obtrusive in 
 urging on others an imitation of her practice. 
 She sought no one's countenance, where there was 
 not cordial, and acknowledged union in principle. 
 She was jealous, lest partial friends should deceive 
 themselves, by an adoption of rules, which they 
 did not really prefer. And, if any one encoun- 
 tered her in the form of an opponent, while she 
 rose superior to the " fear of man which bringeth 
 a snare ;" she did not think it desirable to pro- 
 voke controversy about particular indulgences or 
 restraints, except the foundation of repentance 
 unto life were previously laid, and the motives to 
 willing obedience duly enforced, in the faithful 
 communication of the leading doctrines of the 
 gospel. To dispute about the former alone, or in 
 the first instance, she called, a mere lopping of the 
 branches : it was only, she said, by means of the 
 latter, that, through the blessing of God, " the 
 axe could be laid to the root of the trees." 
 
 None could feel more keenly than Mrs. Ewing 
 did, under unkind treatment, especially when reli- 
 gion caused, or exasperated, the hostility she 
 
48 
 
 experienced. But if she had poignant sufferings, she 
 also had strong consolations. In cases of misun- 
 derstanding, few, indeed, could be more free from 
 the painful consciousness of having intentionally 
 given provocation. Had she dropt a hasty v^^ord, 
 she v^as miserable till she acknowledged it, in the 
 most candid manner. Her habitual kindness made 
 it impossible to suppose, that she meant to do any 
 thing with bitterness. Disputes about temporal 
 affairs she settled with a facility, and a nobleness 
 of mind, which quashed them in the commence- 
 ment, and sometimes astonished those who had 
 been ready to contend with her. — If used injuri- 
 ously on account of her zeal for the gospel; if 
 misrepresented, or wounded in any tender part, 
 because of her faithfulness to souls, which ought to 
 have met with a very different return ; she was 
 chiefly sorry for the state of those, whose enmity 
 was against God rather than her, and could prove 
 injurious only to themselves. The strongest thing 
 I ever heard her say of her own wrongs was ; 
 
 " But with my God I leave my cause. 
 From him I seek relief; 
 To him in confidence of prayer. 
 Unbosom all my grief." 
 
 These lines I have heard her repeat, but only once 
 or twice, and in private confidential conversation. 
 The world never heard from her, that she had 
 
49 
 
 any griefs to complain of; she always gratefully 
 acknowledged that her trials were few, and her 
 comforts many; most cordially did she comply 
 with the precepts of our Saviour, as to the forgive- 
 ness of injuries, and the love of enemies; for this, 
 I believe, she had a testimony to the reality and 
 excellence of her religion, in the consciences of 
 some, who had warmly opposed her ; while those 
 who best knew her had frequent occasion to be 
 astonished and delighted, at the cordiality and zeal 
 with which she practically evinced the forgetful- 
 ness of injuries, and the sincerity of her love, in 
 every instance of reconciliation, and even in in- 
 stances where no apology had ever been made. 
 Usually, indeed, she felt humbled to think, that 
 she had so little of that religion, for which others 
 gave her credit, while they took offence at its 
 alleged excess. She was only anxious to be pre- 
 served from any compromise of principle, which 
 might offend God, injure her own soul, distress 
 fellow Christians, and harden adversaries in un- 
 belief. As to every other view of the subject, she 
 manifested a steadfast faith in our Saviour's crown- 
 ing beatitude, and a cheerful compliance with the 
 exhortation he connects with it. " Blessed are 
 they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake : 
 for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are 
 ye when men shall revile you, and persecute you^ 
 and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely 
 
50 
 
 for ray sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad; for 
 great is your reward in heaven : for so persecuted 
 they the prophets which were before you."* 
 
 Here, again, I have the happiness of letting her 
 speak for herself, in a letter written by her at an 
 early period, to a young Christian friend, whose 
 spirits were sinking, and whose health was injured, 
 in consequence of severe afflictions of this nature. 
 It breathes the tenderest sympathy, and suggests 
 the most animating consolations, while it deals 
 faithfully and closely with the conscience, and gives 
 the most appropriate and salutary practical advice. 
 
 " Saturday Night. 
 
 " My deae , 
 
 " I am truly sorry to hear of your trials, and of 
 your being unwell, and also of that despondency of 
 your mind, which is of all the most painful. Read 
 the 51st of Isaiah, especially the 12th and 13th 
 verses.f They are addressed to those in the most 
 distressing situations, and calculated to afford sup- 
 port and comfort. Your mind seems full of dark- 
 ness ; but whatever your former attainments have 
 
 * Matthew V. 10—12. 
 f " I, even I, am he that comforteth you : who art thou, that 
 thou shouldst be afraid of a man that shall die, and of the son of 
 man which shall be made as grass; and forgettest the Lord thy 
 maker, that hath stretched forth the heavens, and laid the founda- 
 tions of the earth ; and hast feared continually every day because of 
 the fury of the oppressor, as if he were ready to destroy ? and where 
 is the fury of the oppressor ?" 
 
51 
 
 been, it never will be by looking back for evidence 
 of your own Christianity that you will find satisfac- 
 tion. Nor should any view of yourself as the chief 
 of sinners, keep you from attending the means of 
 grace. Jesus says, ' Come unto me, all ye that 
 labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you 
 rest.' Obey this gracious invitation, and you will 
 find, that faithful is he that promises. It is no 
 proof that any are not the Lord's that they are 
 afflicted. ' Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, 
 and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth.' It 
 is through much tribulation that his people are to 
 enter the kingdom of heaven. Many have seen 
 reason to bless God for affliction. I would hope I 
 may say I am one. Indeed, God does nothing in 
 vain ; he does not willingly grieve the children of 
 men ; and it becomes all to inquire, wherefore he 
 contends with them, and to listen to the voice of 
 his dispensations. But this we must ever remem- 
 ber, none of them can speak a language contrary 
 to Scripture ; and God plainly declares, that he 
 wills not the death of sinners ; yea, condescends to 
 complain that they will not come unto him that 
 they may have life. What love is there in this ! 
 If you have made the greatest progress in the 
 divine life, it is only by holding the beginning of 
 your confidence steadfast that you can have peace 
 and joy; and if you are yet living without Christ, 
 and without God, still there is a fulness in him, 
 
52 
 
 and whoso cometh unto him shall in no wise be 
 cast out : * Ask, and ye shall receive ; seek, and 
 ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened.' None 
 ever sought his face in vain. But remember, my 
 
 dear , for all those things the Lord will be 
 
 inquired of. Are you as often on your knees, as 
 you are employed in ruminating on the trials you 
 are exposed to? Are you as earnest in seeking the 
 direction and assistance of God as you are desirous 
 of the sympathy of your friends? Or may what our 
 Saviour says to his disciples be applied to you, 
 ' Hitherto ye have asked nothing in my name.' 
 But what follows this, listen to it as if now addressed 
 to yourself; and so it is, for no Scripture is of 
 private interpretation, and most delightfully en- 
 couraging it is. ' Ask, and ye shall receive, that 
 your joy may be full.' I remember a text of 
 Scripture that was very delightful to me in a try- 
 ing time, and probably I have often mentioned it 
 to you, * Be careful for nothing, but in every 
 thing by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiv- 
 ing, let your requests be made known unto God.' 
 What an unspeakable cause of thanksgiving, that 
 we have a God to go to, whose power and love are 
 so great, that we need fear nor want nothing if he 
 is ours, and who invites us to call upon him in the 
 day of trouble. 
 
 " I trust you will be kept from making sinful com- 
 pliances. On the minds of others they would have 
 
53 
 
 a bad effect. As for yourself, believe it, they will 
 have a very baneful influence; you will lay your- 
 self open to more requests of a like nature ; and 
 you never can have peace of conscience if you do 
 not walk in the path of duty. Do not mind what 
 is said of you that you know to be false ; that is 
 what we must ever expect ; all who make a profes- 
 sion must expect that cross. I beseech you to 
 receive this not from men, they are only a second 
 cause, but from God; he reigns, and has every 
 heart in his hand. This idea keeps us quiet, and 
 prevents our feeling resentment to those whom w^e 
 view only as instruments. We are called to adorn 
 the doctrine of God our Saviour in all things. I 
 desire to bear you on my mind when I am plead- 
 ing for myself at a throne of grace. May the Lord 
 keep, and guide you, and lead you near to himself, 
 who is the source of all blessedness, and comfort, 
 
 and joy. I am, my dear , 
 
 " Your affectionate friend, 
 
 • " B. EWING." 
 
 While Mrs. Ewing " walked in wisdom towards 
 those that were without," she exercised a consci- 
 entious forbearance towards fellow Christians who 
 did not agree with her on particular questions of 
 personal conduct, whether in Christian fellowship 
 or in ordinary life. She never declined to state 
 her own views when inquired after, to vindicate 
 
54 
 
 them when attacked, or to recommend them to 
 the examination of those who had not before con- 
 sidered the subject; but she had a high sense of 
 the rights of private judgment; she desired no 
 conformity without conviction ; she deprecated a 
 bhnd submission to human authority as offensive to 
 God, disgusting to his people, and degrading equally 
 to those who yielded, and those who required, or 
 so much as allowed it. Accordingly, several of 
 her dearest and most attached Christian friends 
 belonged to denominations of religion different 
 from that which she had herself chosen. 
 
 But she was by no means undistinguishing in 
 her opinions, either of persons or things. She 
 never called that a pure Gospel which could leave 
 rules of practice, whether public or private, out of 
 the question. She regarded the Saviour's autho- 
 rity as equally sacred on every subject. She had 
 the strongest possible conviction of the importance 
 of following no human authority, in observing the 
 ordinances of Christian worship and discipline. 
 She esteemed her teachers very highly in love for 
 their works' sake; but called no man father or 
 master on earth. She loved her neighbour far too 
 well to avoid telling him, if she saw him guilty of 
 error or inconsistency; and she was not easily 
 imposed upon by a " holding of the form of god- 
 liness," where there was a " denying of the power 
 thereof." 
 
55 
 
 In regard to church government, she was an 
 Independent, approving of the baptizing of beHev- 
 ers and their families, and of the observance of the 
 Lord's Supper every Lord's day. She was a mem- 
 ber first of the church in Auldkirk, and afterwards 
 of one of the churches in Glasgow which belong 
 to the Congregational Union of Scotland. In the 
 first letter of hers, which is inserted in this Me- 
 moir, she tells us how she came by her principles, 
 namely, by "reading the Bible on her knees." 
 Besides other books already mentioned, the follow- 
 ing may be specified as having stood high in her 
 favour, and as particularly characteristic of her 
 religious views: — " Brief Thoughts concerning the 
 Gospel, and Hindrances to believing it — Dr. Ward- 
 law on Infant Baptism — Mr. Monro on the same 
 subject — Thoughts on the Lord's Supper, by a 
 private Christian — Russell's Practical and Conso- 
 latory Letters, designed to illustrate the Nature 
 and Tendency of the Gospel — Erskine's Internal 
 Evidence of revealed Religion — Erskine's Essay 
 on Faith — Ofme's Catechism on the Constitution 
 and Ordinances of the Kingdom of Christ — Orme's 
 Life of Owen — Orme on the Lord's Supper — 
 Orme's Discourses on the Blasphemy against the 
 Holy Spirit; Divine Influence, and its connexion 
 with Instituted Means." 
 
 Having mentioned Mrs. Ewing's religious con- 
 nexion, it is no more than justice demands to add, 
 
that I never knew a brighter example of one who 
 firmly adhered to holy principle, and powerfully 
 recommended holy principle by heavenly temper. 
 When she confessed her faith, it was " speaking 
 the truth in love," that she " might grow up into 
 him in all things, which is the head, even Christ."* 
 She " warred a good warfare ; holding faith, and 
 a good conscience."f But " she did not war 
 after the flesh."t She revered the authority and 
 fulfilled the prediction of our Saviour, in his 
 blessed injunction, " A new commandment I give 
 unto you. That ye love one another ; as I have 
 loved you, that ye also love one another. By this 
 shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye 
 have love one to another." |1 I am happy to say, 
 that though eminent in this, Mrs. Ewing was not 
 singular. It is sometimes insinuated, that keen- 
 ness about correct sentiments is the opposite of an 
 affectionate disposition. I feel called upon to bear 
 my testimony from experience on the other side. 
 I have found those who are most deeply con- 
 cerned to ascertain the meaning of every Scripture 
 doctrine, most eminent in the exercise of brotherly 
 kindness. Indifference about the truth may speak 
 in a way that shall be very plausible, and very 
 popular, but he who can be pleased with any thing 
 is attached to nothing. That alone is the " bond 
 
 * Eph. iv. 15. t 1 Tim. i. 19. \ 2 Cor. x. 3. 
 
 II John xiii. 34, 35. 
 
57 
 
 of perfectness," which the beloved disciple expresses 
 with his characteristic fulness and precision, when 
 he says, " Whom I love in the truth : and not I 
 only, but also all they that have known the truth; 
 for the truth's sake which dwelleth in us, and shall 
 be with us for ever."* 
 
 The following extracts of letters, written by Mrs. 
 Ewing at an early period of her religious life, will 
 exemplify at once her natural affection, and her 
 Christian sympathy : — 
 
 "Edinburgh, 14th February, 1799. 
 
 " My dear , 
 
 " We must acknowledge we know not what a 
 day nor an hour shall bring forth ; we cannot fore- 
 see impending misfortunes ; and well it is we can- 
 not, for it would unfit us for duty. Much do I 
 sympathize with you, my dear girl, on this bereave- 
 ment of a very sincere kind friend. You have 
 been much on my mind since I heard this morning 
 of our loss of our highly valued relation. I know 
 none that will feel it more than you. I pray 
 God that it may be sanctified to you. I hope, in 
 taking away an earthly prop, he will lead you to lean 
 upon his own all-sufficient never failing strength. 
 Earthly friends may leave and forsake you, but 
 His truth and faithfulness endureth for ever. Oh 
 that this may now and ever be your stay and trust ! 
 
 • 2 John i. 2. 
 
 c 
 
58 
 
 Such sudden strokes ought to lead us to examine 
 whether we, if summoned as suddenly to the awful 
 tribunal, are in any measure prepared. Have we 
 fled to Christ, in whose name alone we can be jus- 
 tified ? Is He all our salvation, and all our desire ? 
 What an important question ! Our present com- 
 fort and future happiness depend on what we can 
 answer, — our present comfort, because if we are in 
 our natural state of enmity against God, we must 
 look on all we meet with as the wrath of God 
 revealed against us as rebels with- whom he will 
 fight, instead of meeting it, and blessing the 
 hand who visits us, as the hand of a kind Father, 
 who in love is chastening us to bring us nearer 
 to himself: — our future happiness, because we have 
 nothing in ourselves that can make us accept- 
 able in the sight of God. By nature, and a 
 thousand actual transgressions, we are hateful to 
 God, who is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity, 
 and who will consign us to everlasting burnings 
 if we have not the perfect righteousrtess of our 
 glorious Redeemer imputed to us. To find 
 whether you have good cause to hope this is 
 your case, I refer you to my last letter ; not that 
 I pretend to say it will teach you all you should 
 know, but it is all I can say on the subject, and 
 may help you a little. But pray for the teaching 
 of the Holy Spirit, which is the infallible teacher. 
 I hope, my dear girl, you will not give way to vio- 
 
59 
 
 lent grief, though I don't desire you not to feel. — 
 I hope you will feel in a manner to be profitable 
 to your soul, and not injurious to your body. 
 Were I with you I might be enabled to speak 
 more to the purpose ; however, I hope you have 
 comforts and supports of a superior kind to either 
 my conversation or letters. 
 " I remain, 
 
 " My dear , 
 
 " Your much attached friend, 
 " Barbara Maxwell." 
 
 TO THE same. 
 " Edinburgh, Tuesday Night, 1799. 
 
 " I feel an interest beyond expression in 
 
 and — just now; that the Lord may bless this 
 providence so to them that they may afterwards 
 have cause to say, it has been good for them to be 
 afflicted. David sa3^s, * Before I was afflicted I 
 went astray.' I think I have myself experienced 
 much benefit from having been under the smart- 
 ing rod, and sure I am I see many many instances 
 daily. Oh that the Lord, in his goodness and 
 abundant mercy, would add them to the happy 
 
 number ! I hope, too, my dear will learn 
 
 some useful lesson by being in the house of mourn- 
 ing. Such a distressing scene must solemnize the 
 mind, and make a strong impression. I trust it 
 will not be of the kind that passeth away like the 
 
60 
 
 early dew or the morning cloud. Believe me 
 
 ever, my dear , 
 
 " Your affectionately attached 
 
 " B. Maxwell." 
 
 The next letter was written on the death of an 
 aunt, and it comes under review now with pecu- 
 liar interest ; because the aunt died, like the dear 
 writer, from being overturned in a carriage, and 
 the letter is addressed to her most intimately con- 
 nected cousin, the aunt's only surviving daughter, 
 who was present, and most deeply affected, in both 
 cases. 
 
 " If it would afford the smallest comfort to you, 
 
 my dearest , I might say much of the feelings 
 
 of my heart on this truly distressing occasion. 
 But I know by experience that mere human sym- 
 pathy is vain. The Lord alone is a Comforter. 
 Oh that He may pour the balm of consolation 
 into your wounded bosom ! Remember, my sweet 
 girl, the Lord does not willingly grieve us. All 
 is in love. Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, 
 and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth ; our 
 light afflictions, which are but for a moment, work 
 for us a far more exceeding, even an eternal weight 
 of glory. You say my affliction is not light, indeed 
 it is not, till we take it in a comparative view ; 
 then the severest sufferings of a present life appear 
 
61 
 
 nothing to that wrath we deserve as the just pun- 
 ishment of our sins ; but for a moment, too, in com- 
 parison of eternity, though lengthened out to the 
 longest span. They are not joyous, but grievous, 
 nevertheless, they yield, or are calculated to yield, 
 the peaceable fruits of righteousness. My prayer 
 is that this may be the blessed effect of my dear 
 
 's present trial. I durst not venture to come 
 
 to you, as I gladly would, had I been well, but I 
 
 trust, my dearest will be supported in another 
 
 way than I could. Wait on the Lord, and you 
 will find you shall not wait in vain. Let me assure 
 
 you, my sweet , of the tender affection of your 
 
 truly attached friend, 
 
 " B. Maxwell." 
 
 The last letter, which I shall insert in this place, 
 is written on a subject of a peculiarly trying, and 
 delicate nature, and appears to me to treat it in a 
 manner, equally prudent and conscientious. It 
 also breathes a portion of the spirit of ardent and 
 devoted piety, which so powerfully glowed in the 
 writer's bosom to the last moment of her life. 
 
 *' Ardgowan, May 10, 1801. 
 
 " My dear , 
 
 " I daresay you would be shocked at your 's 
 
 death, and many painful things suggest themselves 
 when we penetrate into the situation of those who, 
 
so far as we know, die in an unconverted state ; 
 but we are not called to be judges of others, and 
 we dare not limit the mercy of God ; for though 
 his faithful word (of which, we know, not one tittle 
 shall fall to the ground,) declares expressly that 
 there is no other method of salvation but believing 
 in Jesus Christ, and that those who believe not 
 shall be damned; yet we know not but after 
 ability to confess Christ before men is gone, he 
 may be believed on in the heart. Therefore, the 
 call to you, and to me, is, in such cases, to ask, 
 * are we ready ?* How would it be with me were 
 my soul called to appear before the judgment-seat 
 of Christ ? Have I indeed seen the impossibility 
 of patching up a righteousness of my own in which 
 I durst appear in the presence of God ? Have I 
 felt in myself the truth of what God asserts in his 
 word, that in all things I sin ? and have I in good 
 earnest fled for refuge to lay hold on the hope set 
 before me in the gospel ? Oh what a mercy it is, 
 
 my dear , that, while the Spirit of God opens 
 
 our eyes to see we must despair of hope, or help, 
 in ourselves, it leads us also to the fulness that is 
 in Christ our righteousness. We have broken 
 God's law, and are justly condemned by it. Christ 
 magnified the law, and made it honourable, so that 
 we are justified by his blood who died in our room. 
 Yea, more, he has received gifts for men, and these 
 gifts may be comprised into grace here, and glory 
 
63 
 
 hereafter. That you and I may be partakers of 
 these great benefits, which include unspeakably 
 more than can be conceived, is my earnest prayer. 
 
 I am glad you was sorry at leaving , on 
 
 account of missing the ordinance of the Lord's 
 Supper. I hope you have a real relish for all the 
 ordinances of his appointment. The Lord can 
 make up this and every disappointment, and when 
 we can appeal to him, who is the searcher of 
 hearts, that our desire after any thing is because it 
 is a means of communion with him, and that no- 
 thing but a call in his providence prevents our 
 using this means, we may look up for his blessing 
 without the means. Your saying you could part 
 without regret from all friends at in the pros- 
 pect of seeing me, gave me no pleasure, because, 
 I am sure, you might receive a thousand times 
 more benefit to your soul by their example and 
 conversation, than ever you could by mine ; and 
 this is the real way to value every thing, not what 
 pleases our foolish fancies, and prejudices, and 
 affections, — where can I be, what can I do, or say, 
 or think, most for the glory of God, and the good 
 of my immortal soul ? is the question to ask ; and, 
 this in view, we are in the path to happiness. 
 
 " Believe me, my dear , 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 « B. Maxwell.*' 
 
64 
 
 When, through the gracious providence of God, 
 I obtained that union with the subject of this 
 Memoir, which proved the great solace of my life, 
 and one of the most important advantages to my 
 ministry, and to my own soul, for nearly six-and- 
 twenty years ; I was aware of her distinguished 
 Christianity, and of her good sense, good temper, 
 and captivating manners ; but I had no idea of 
 the number and degree of other valuable qualities, 
 in which I was delighted to find her so eminently 
 excel. Every day we lived together, I was sur- 
 prised with her elegant, and liberal, yet judicious, 
 and effective, domestic economy: her knowledge 
 of business, which not only exempted me from all 
 carefulness about my little temporal concerns, but 
 would have qualified her to manage the affairs of 
 any establishment, however eminent and wealthy ; 
 her turn for medicine ; her affectionate care of the 
 sick ; her ingenuity, and unwearied vigilance, in 
 using means for their comfort and relief; her suc- 
 cess in finding employment for the industrious, 
 and in making provision for the poor. 
 
 While she incurred no expense unnecessarily, 
 she spared none, where the interests of religion 
 were concerned. She was particularly desirous, 
 that I should purchase every book, which could be 
 at all subservient to my assistance, in the study of 
 the Holy Scriptures. The number, or the price, 
 
65 
 
 was nothing ; utility alone was to be considered. 
 I need not say, how gratifying this disposition was 
 to me ; how congenial to my habits ; how impor- 
 tant to any one engaged in the duties of the 
 ministry of the gospel ! Every hour of the day, 
 when I betake myself to my library for instruction, 
 for relief, and for comfort ; it proves deeply affect- 
 ing, to recall the interesting thought, that I was 
 always urged by her whom I mourn, to extend the 
 limits of such a valuable resource. 
 
 What I owe to my departed companion for 
 personal attentions, I shall not attempt to speak 
 of in this Memoir ; for I shall never be able, as 
 long as I live, sufficiently to express it. But there 
 is one point, more interesting to me than any 
 thing personal, on which, though equally unable 
 to do her justice, I feel it impossible to keep silence. 
 She gave her hand to one, who was a widower 
 and a father. She became not only the affec- 
 tionate wife to me, but the motherly hearted, 
 the genuine parent, of an only child, whose own 
 mother had died at her birth, and who, being 
 still in a very early period of her youth, could 
 not know, far less acknowledge her obligations 
 to her new benefactor. Never did mother pay 
 more tender attentions, exercise more foster- 
 ing care, display more enlightened judgment, 
 evince more Christian faithfulness, or more truly 
 " travail in birth again," in the scriptural sense, 
 
" until Christ was formed in her," than she did to 
 that child. In such an undertaking, she could not 
 but have a mother's cares, and labours, and trials. 
 I bless God, I am able to add, that she also had a 
 mother's, a Christian mother's, reward. For years 
 before she died, she had the unspeakable satisfac- 
 tion of seeing (as she warmly declared on every 
 occasion) the most pleasing result of her parental 
 exertions. To her last hour there existed not a 
 fonder mother for her child, and her child's hus- 
 band, and their dear children ; — and the filial reve- 
 rence, and affection, and gratitude, which, in joy 
 and in sorrow, they have cherished in return, 
 endears all parties, whether among the living or 
 the dead, to the heavy heart of the once more 
 widowed father. 
 
 In proof of the maternal kindly feelings spoken 
 of above, I insert an extract of a letter from Mrs. 
 Ewing to my daughter, on her return home by 
 Edinburgh to Durham, after she and her husband 
 and two boys had paid us a visit, a short time 
 before the birth of her daughter, who is since dead. 
 Other proofs of the same kind will be given after-' 
 wards. 
 
 « Glasgow, 28th Sept. 1826. 
 " My dear Jessy, 
 " Both your letter from Edinburgh, and the 
 other from Durham, afforded us pleasure, and 
 
67 
 
 caused thanksgiving to our God, for his continued 
 care and kindness to you, and yours; and we 
 trust, when you have time to give us your Edin- 
 burgh news, you will be able to tell us you have 
 not felt the effects of the journey. For you only 
 did we fear for any other consequences, from the 
 very long journey and fatigue with the children. 
 I need not tell you we often think and speak of 
 you, and desire ever to remember you in our 
 prayers. Such an interview as the Lord per- 
 mitted us to enjoy, must increase our interest, 
 and that sort of minute sympathy in each other's 
 affairs, which correspondence does not altogether 
 supply. Many things remind us of the children. 
 Greville's horse, with four legs, still lies on the 
 gravel at Corkerhill, and the paper house I cut for 
 him is hung to an empty cotton bobbin ; and when 
 the honey spoon is removed after breakfast, or any 
 sweet thing appears after dinner, then James's 
 voice, and his trot into the room to Gan-Ma, is 
 brought vividly to mind. The parents are not 
 forgot either, especially the gratification of seeing 
 you conveying to your son the knowledge of that 
 way of salvation, which for so many years it was 
 my prayer to God you might receive for your own 
 soul. May you be kept by His mighty power, 
 and enabled, with your husband, to abound in the 
 work of the Lord, in your family, and in the sta- 
 tion He has placed you in, in his vineyard ! And 
 
68 
 
 if we should never be permitted to meet again on 
 earth, may we anticipate here, and enjoy hereafter, 
 a glorious and happy meeting, never again to part ! 
 Many kind inquiries have been made for you, all 
 and sundry, as you may believe ; and I greatly 
 delight in the thought that you and yours by this 
 visit, have a greater share in the hearts and minds 
 of many of the Lord's dear praying people — in 
 which I place great confidence. . . . We 
 join in love, and kisses to the dear boys. I am, 
 " My dear Jessy, 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 «B. EWING." 
 
 It ought to be noticed, that Mrs. Ewing was all 
 her life remarkable for her love to children and 
 young people. Had she possessed the most ample 
 fortune, she would have been inclined, in early 
 life, to have spent it on feeding and clothing the 
 children of the poor. This came to be so well 
 understood, that it was alleged the beggars some- 
 times borrowed children from one another to move 
 her compassion, when a child, by displays of twins, 
 and numerous young families. She soon became 
 able to detect imposition, and in no case did she do 
 more good, with judicious economy, than in assisting 
 to provide for the young. But whether assistance 
 was required or not, wherever she met with young 
 people they attracted her regard, and she engaged 
 
69 
 
 their attention and affections. She treated them 
 with the most genuine and unwearied kindness; 
 and, at the same time, had an excellent talent for 
 keeping them in order, superintending their edu- 
 cation, and training them to useful habits. Nor 
 did she ever cease to take an interest in their wel- 
 fare. When religious principle was added to 
 natural affection, these exertions were wonderfully 
 increased and improved. I have reason to believe 
 she was the spiritual parent of more than one 
 young person ; and if any have had much oppor- 
 tunity of receiving her instructions, and knowing 
 her manner of life, without deriving any religious 
 benefit from these things, I should fear they were 
 examples of no common hardness. As a specimen 
 of the interest she felt in her young friends, espe- 
 cially in their spiritual welfare, I subjoin a letter 
 written to a young gentleman on going abroad, of 
 which a copy was taken by one equally concerned 
 for his welfare. 
 
 TO A YOUNG FRIEND GOING ABROAD. 
 
 « April 3d, 1821. 
 " My dear , 
 
 " Having watched over you and your sister in 
 the years of your infancy with something of a 
 mother's solicitude, I felt more than I wished to 
 express at the idea that I. should never see you 
 
TO 
 
 again when you took leave of me to-day. Most 
 sincerely do I wish you success and comfort in 
 your worldly pursuits; but I cannot stop there, 
 my heart's desire is, and my prayer for you has 
 been, from your birth, that you may have better 
 blessings than this world can bestow. Remember, 
 
 my dear , that in leaving this country, where 
 
 Bibles abound, where the gospel is preached, and 
 where you have had many proofs of its transform- 
 ing influence on the characters of those around you 
 who believe it, you cannot leave your responsi- 
 bility for what you have enjoyed of this — you may 
 be far away from any who will, either by w^ord or 
 look, expostulate with you, if you forget or deride 
 these things among those who do so. But He, 
 who is to be our Judge, he made the eye, shall he 
 not see ? He made the ear, shall he not hear ? He 
 formed the heart, and knows the very thoughts 
 and intents of it. This is not revealed to tease us 
 unnecessarily, but to awaken us to prize peace 
 with God above all other things. There is only 
 one way of enjoying that, which the Bible teaches 
 us, is by coming to God in the name of the Lord 
 Jesus Christ, ' Whoso cometh unto him, he will 
 in nowise cast out.' ' He that believeth in him 
 shall never perish, but shall have everlasting life.' 
 And godliness is profitable for the life that now is, 
 as well as that which is to come. None are really 
 safe and happy but those who have God for their 
 
71 
 
 friend — who has all power in heaven and in earth, 
 and taste and see that God is good, and blessed 
 are all those who put their trust in him. As in 
 all human probability I shall never have another 
 opportunity of addressing you in this world, as I 
 shall be in my grave before you return, I wish you 
 to consider this as the dying testimony of one who 
 loves you. May the Lord watch over you and bless 
 you, and cause the light of his countenance to shine 
 upon you, through all your wanderings in this 
 world, and grant you a place at his right hand, 
 where are pleasures for evermore, when time shall 
 be no more, is the earnest prayer of, 
 
 " My dear , 
 
 ** Your sincere friend, 
 
 " Barbara Ewing." 
 
 " Accept the little book I send along with this 
 as a token of regard, and read it for my sake." 
 
 But let us enter a wider field. Let us survey 
 the purity, the fervour, the piety, and the bene- 
 volence of her Christian zeal. Her thoughts and 
 labours by day and night, her chosen theme of 
 animated conversation, and indefatigable corre- 
 spondence, might all be considered as the accom- 
 paniment of these sublime petitions : " Hallowed 
 be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be 
 done on earth as it is in heaven." For missions 
 
72 . 
 
 to the heathen, and the propagation of the gospel 
 at home ; for the opening of Sabbath schools ; for 
 the increase of scriptural Christian churches ; for 
 the Congregational Union of Scotland ; for the 
 encouragement of the ministers of it, in all their 
 pastoral and all their itinerant labours; for the 
 educating of their children, and the support of 
 their widows ; for their own support both in health 
 and sickness; and for the means of training others, 
 like minded, to succeed to the labours of prede- 
 cessors, or to increase the number of fellow-labour- 
 ers, and to enlarge the sphere of exertion; — for 
 any, or all these objects, nay, for all objects of a 
 similar nature, her heart and hands, her prayers 
 and means, her influence with others, as well as 
 her personal efforts, were always so quickly, easily, 
 and successfully brought to bear, that she con- 
 stantly reminded me of her family motto, " I am 
 ready," or rather of the language of the apostle, 
 " ready to every good work."* 
 
 Soon after the association of the Congregational 
 Union of Scotland, to assist the smaller and poorer 
 churches in supporting their pastors, and defray- 
 ing other expenses incident to the propagation of 
 the gospel, and the maintenance of its institutions, 
 it appeared very desirable to form a fund for our, 
 ministers' widows, and for superannuated ministers 
 
 • Tit. iii. 1. 
 
73 
 
 themselves. But it was evident, that where the 
 numbers were so few, it could not be raised, or 
 supported by the rates of payment alone which 
 could be demanded from the parties immediately 
 concerned. Among other means of aiding the 
 scheme, Mrs. Ewing, at the suggestion of her niece, 
 Mrs. Stirling, engaged fifteen ministers to contri- 
 bute one sermon each, to a volume of sermons, to 
 be published by subscription, for the benefit of 
 this widows' and ministers' fund. While these were 
 in the press, she made application in all quarters 
 in England and Scotland, for subscriptions for the 
 volume; and with the assistance of some kind 
 friends, whose aid she solicited, she was able to 
 dispose of the whole impression, without the agency 
 of a single bookseller, within a very few months 
 after it was printed; and she had thus the satisfac- 
 tion of procuring for the fund the clear profit of 
 £418: 0: lOd., besides giving the authors an oppor- 
 tunity of preaching the gospel to many, in various 
 parts of the world, to whom they could not have 
 otherwise had access. 
 
 It was a mutual comfort to Mrs. Ewing and me, 
 that during our married life, we were seldom separ- 
 ated ; but she never grudged my absence, when it 
 was occasioned by calls of evangelical duty. Most 
 cordially did she consent to my repeated journies 
 to England to attend the anniversary meeting of 
 the London Missionary Society, and the auxiliary 
 
74 
 
 anniversary meetings at Hull and Chester; also to 
 engage in a tour in Norfolk and Suffolk, with a 
 visit to Cambridge, and one to Leicester, on my 
 return, to preach, and to make collections for the 
 Congregational Union ; to various parts in Scot- 
 land also, as, at one time, a tour in Stirlingshire, 
 at another, in the Highlands of Perthshire, and 
 again, round the east coast, as far as Inverness. 
 
 But travelling having been at last recommended 
 for Mrs. Swing's health, I had the pleasure of 
 seeing her form a plan, by which we might pursue, 
 at the same time, her personal benefit, and the 
 object increasingly dear to her heart, the promot- 
 ing of the work of God in different places by the 
 preaching of the gospel. From that period, she 
 and her cousin, who staid with us, accompanied me 
 for a portion of some successive seasons, in various 
 excursions for these united purposes. One of these 
 in Ayrshire, Dumfriesshire, and Galloway, carried 
 us to the extremity of the south of Scotland. Ano- 
 ther season, we went a still more extensive journey j 
 through several parts of the North, till we reached 
 the extremity of the county of Caithness. 
 
 I never saw any person so truly happy as my 
 beloved wife was during these journies. Besides 
 quantities of tracts, which she distributed on the 
 road, she sewed numbers of them in small volumes, 
 to be left with pastors and Sabbath-school teachers, 
 for lending to the people of their charge, or others in 
 
75 
 
 the neighbourhood. She delighted in daily oppor- 
 tunities of public worship, hearing the gospel 
 preached in destitute and sequestered places, visit- 
 ing the churches, conferring with the pastors, and 
 other Christian friends, on all their encourage- 
 ments, and all their trials, and suggesting addi- 
 tional means of usefulness. A conveyance was 
 always in attendance, but she was an excellent 
 walker. It was an exercise essential to her health ; 
 and she went along so easily and lightly, as never 
 to be heated, far less fatigued. She loved to see 
 me going with my brethren in their usual style of 
 labour. With a walking party she could enjoy 
 much more conversation. Although in crowded 
 roads, therefore, and long journies, or when limited 
 in time, she submitted to proceed more privately 
 and rapidly ; yet she no sooner got into those parts 
 of the country where daily opportunities of preach- 
 ing might be obtained within the distance of a 
 stage, than she proceeded on foot. I have known 
 her walk eighteen miles in a day ; all the while 
 maintaining the most useful conversation, quite alive 
 to the exercises of public worship in the evening, 
 and ready to start at any hour next morning to pur- 
 sue a similar course. In one of these journies she 
 walked above eighty miles in this manner, and 
 returned home full of health and spirits, and more 
 interested than ever in the propagation of the 
 gospel. I cannot express how much her company 
 
76 
 
 cheered me in my itinerant labours; while the 
 acquaintance she formed with persons and places, 
 rendered her subsequent extensive correspondence 
 eminently and permanently useful to many of our 
 brethren. 
 
 It required not, however, the excitement of 
 travelling to draw forth her interest in the preach- 
 ing of the gospel, and in all the ordinances of 
 Christian fellowship. She was a steady, humble, 
 affectionate, and zealous member of the church of 
 Christ, first at Auldkirk, and then at Glasgow. 
 She had, from first to last, a strong and growing 
 sense of the importance of stated public worship, 
 purity of communion, non-conformity to the world, 
 and the acknowledgment of no authority in sacred 
 things, but that of Christ, as expressed in his own 
 word. Ever since I knew her, the Christian exer- 
 cises of the Lord's day were her highest enjoy- 
 ment in life ; and a silent Sabbath was the bitterest 
 ingredient in the cup of her affliction. 
 
 In the year 1824, we had a very interesting 
 journey to London, taking Durham and Cam- 
 bridge in our way, at each of which places we 
 staid a few days. The immediate object was, to 
 make collections for the funds of the Congrega- 
 tional Union of Scotland, especially to aid their 
 operations in the Highlands and Islands. We 
 accordingly made collections at Cambridge, in 
 many Chapels of London and its neighbourhood, 
 
77 
 
 and at Sheffield on our return. We had also an 
 opportunity of attending the solemnities of Mr. 
 Orme's settlement at Camberwell; an event which 
 we deplored as a loss to Scotland, while we believed 
 it would turn out, as indeed it has done, to the 
 furtherance of the gospel. We had, in the course 
 of this journey, much blessed intercourse with 
 many old Christian friends, as well as with many 
 whom we had never seen before ; and Mrs. Ewing 
 was particularly struck with the contrast, on 
 revisiting the great metropolis, as the residence of 
 so many who were eminent for piety and useful- 
 ness, which she had formerly known chiefly as the 
 centre of attraction to the great and the gay world. 
 In a letter to my daughter, dated Hackney, 28th 
 October, 1824, she says, " Our Heavenly Father 
 adds much to the enjoyments of his people by the 
 love he inspires them with to one another. We 
 are here in this city experiencing much of this. 
 
 how strikingly different are the pleasures now 
 afforded, to those so called, which 1 was intoxi- 
 cated with when a girl here ! Many of the places 
 
 1 see, and pass by, I trust, awaken gratitude to 
 God for his mercy in delivering me from ignorance 
 as dark as heathenism." 
 
 These journies enlarged the sphere of her cor- 
 respondence to a very great degree. She had 
 known many ministers of the gospel, from the 
 time they had studied for the ministry at Edin* 
 
78 
 
 burgh, or Glasgow ; and not a few of whom had 
 been students at the Theological Academy, be- 
 longing to our own connexion. On seeing many 
 of them in their pastoral charges, and getting 
 acquainted with their families, and their situation, 
 various communications seemed desirable, on both 
 sides, for promoting plans of usefulness. Her cor- 
 respondence with the ministers of the Congrega- 
 tional Union became general and constant. The 
 increasing labour of it she was indefatigable in 
 sustaining ; and she despatched it with a celerity 
 which, in some degree, counterbalanced its increase. 
 Nor did she confine herself to ministers at home. 
 Some of our students had gone abroad as Mission- 
 aries, with whom she maintained (as they grate- 
 fully confess) a more regular correspondence, and 
 one conveying more interesting information, than 
 most of the other acquaintances they had left in 
 this country. Her letters never degenerated into 
 common-place remark ; but always turned on real 
 business, or proposals of practical utility, for which 
 her resources seemed never to fail, and the success 
 with which she was rewarded often reminded me 
 of our Saviour's reproof; " O thou of little faith, 
 wherefore didst thou doubt?" 
 
 Every year, she had the pleasure of attending 
 the annual meeting of the Congregational Union of 
 Scotland, alternately in Edinburgh and Glasgow. 
 On these occasions, which occupy two days, there 
 
79 
 
 is a Sermon in the evening of the first, a prayer- 
 meeting next morning before breakfast, a Sermon 
 in the middle of the day, and a meeting in the 
 evening, at which the Report of the Committee is 
 read, and several ministers and other members, 
 from all parts of the country, address the audience. 
 Mrs. Ewing greatly enjoyed the mass of religious 
 intelligence brought forward, and the harmony and 
 brotherly love, and general joy and sympathy, 
 manifested at these meetings; and although she 
 had not always sufficient strength to attend the 
 prayer meeting in the morning, yet she felt the 
 greatest delight in it when she could attend, and 
 a most lively interest in its exercises, even when 
 she could not be personally present. 
 
 Besides this anniversary season of enjoyment, on 
 account of what w^as going on in her own religious 
 connexion, she took an active part, in occasional 
 calls for exertion, and in plans of general co- 
 operation among Christians. She zealously en- 
 gaged in a sale of Ladies' work in Glasgow, in 
 aid of the funds of the Glasgow City Mission, and 
 superintended one of the tables at that sale. She 
 officiated, along with several friends, in the same 
 way at Edinburgh, in April 1827, at a sale of 
 Ladies' work made there, to assist in promoting 
 the gospel in the Highlands and Islands of Scot- 
 land by itinerant preachers and teachers, who are 
 acquainted with the Gaelic language. A sketch 
 
80 
 
 of the labours of the ministers, supported from 
 the proceeds of that sale, has since been cir- 
 culated, and the Ladies who conducted it have 
 requested the aid of their friends, and all inter- 
 ested in the Highland itinerancies, towards another 
 sale for the same object in March 1829, for which 
 Mrs. Ewing was making preparation at the time 
 of her death, and remembered, as we shall see, in 
 her last hour ; and which, I hope and pray, the 
 Lord may countenance and bless, by the instru- 
 mentality of others who remain, although their 
 willing associate has been removed. 
 
 Amidst all the occupations of a truly public 
 spirit, my dear partner was strongly attached to 
 the habits of private domestic life. Attention to 
 relative duties she was always ready to pay, 
 whether at home or abroad; but neither health 
 nor inclination admitted of her going much into 
 company. She formed few, but very ardent and 
 faithful friendships. To all the interests of her 
 friends she was quite as attentive as if they had 
 been her own ; most ingenious in finding oppor- 
 tunities and means of serving them ; highly grati- 
 fied with every service they rendered to her, or at 
 her request to others for whom she had made 
 application. Kind and thoughtful consideration 
 of others, before herself, was indeed one of the 
 most prominent features in her character. She 
 delighted to observe their usefulness ; she rejoiced 
 
81 
 
 in their honours, and stood firmly by them, when 
 she saw them unjustly assailed with reproach. 
 She was especially observant of the providential 
 dispensations, which they were called to experi- 
 ence. No one ever more truly exemplified obedi- 
 ence to the Christian precept : * Rejoice with them 
 that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.' 
 Neither change of place, nor distance of time, 
 could diminish her attachments. These it was 
 impossible to satisfy by personal intercourse. 
 Hence, a very great enlargement of her daily cor- 
 respondence. Had the communications of private 
 friendship alone comprised the whole of her letter- 
 writing, it would have been wonderfully abundant ; 
 she enters so minutely into circumstances, in most 
 of those letters, as to render them unfit for publi- 
 cation ; but, when they can with propriety appear, 
 they are peculiarly interesting. There is a sim- 
 plicity, a cordiality, a cheerfulness, and a tender- 
 ness, which marks them as a most accurate tran- 
 script of genuine character, and of real life. The 
 two following letters were written to one of her 
 oldest, and dearest Christian friends, on the death 
 of her husband, after a very short illness. 
 
 " Glasgow, 8th Feb. 1825. 
 " My beloved Friend, 
 " You will not count as an intrusion, an expres- 
 sion of the deepest sympathy from one whom 
 
 D 
 
you have allowed so large a share of your kind- 
 ness and confidence for so many years. — I know- 
 in like circumstances you would feel for me what 
 I felt for you this morning. My thoughts have 
 not been many moments diverted from you and 
 yours since the post brought the notification for 
 which I was wholly unprepared. My ignorance of 
 all particulars unfits me to write, or even to know 
 how to think. How cheering to contrast the know- 
 ledge of your best, and kindest, and most sympa- 
 thizing friend. He who has appointed every part 
 of your lot knows every circumstance, every feeling, 
 and can suit his glorious consolations to the most 
 trying points of every sorrow. Blessed be God, 
 you know to whom to go as a very present help in 
 every trouble, and can plead his promise to answer 
 your prayers, and enable you to glorify his name. 
 I earnestly hope your health will not be over- 
 powered, but that strength according to your day 
 will be granted, and that the Lord will honour you 
 to bear a testimony, by your conduct and lips, that 
 shall powerfully convince all, and particularly your 
 own children and family, that the God whom you 
 serve is ' Love ;' and proves this in times the most 
 trying both to faith, and to flesh and blood. I am 
 sure you will (as soon as you can think of it) de- 
 vise some means to relieve my anxiety about your 
 dear self and your two daughters ; next to yourself 
 I dread their suffering in their health. I am sure 
 
83 
 
 it will be your prayer and theirs, in which we shall 
 assuredly unite with you, that this dispensation 
 may be blessed to your dear son, the sister and 
 brother too ; but I feel I ought to stop. As soon 
 as I hear I will write again to my dear friend ; in 
 the meantime my husband and Jane desire to unite 
 with me in kindest and most sympathizing regards 
 to you and yours, and in prayers that you all may 
 experience that tribulation worketh patience, ex- 
 perience, and hope that maketh not ashamed — 
 the love of God being shed abroad in your hearts 
 abundantly. I am, 
 
 " My very dear friend, 
 
 " Yours most affectionately, 
 " B. EwiNG. 
 " I have been confined for ten days with a rheu- 
 matic attack, but am better, and was out to-day for 
 a quarter of an hour." 
 
 " Polloc, 23d Feb. 1825. 
 " My very dear Friend, 
 " I feel extremely gratified and obliged for your 
 very kind letter of the 17th, which I only received 
 day before yesterday. I hope you will know that 
 it was detained, and not think I have been so long 
 in acknowledging it. The day I got it I was fully 
 occupied, for I had to visit three families in afl^ic- 
 tion, and had some friends to dine with us, and we 
 
84 
 
 left Glasgow yesterday morning at ten, and came 
 round by Corkerhill to get some advance made in 
 preparation to get there as soon as possible, before 
 coming here where we spent last week, and where 
 we shall remain till Friday.— I was truly glad to 
 see your own handwriting, and desire to give 
 thanks for all the comfort your letter contains. 
 The stroke has been sudden and solemn, and the 
 Lord knows and wills that such things must be 
 deeply felt, but he has granted a number of mercies 
 to be mixed, that I trust my dear friend now feels 
 and acknowledges, and which may be matter of 
 everlasting praise. That your own beloved 
 daughter should have been honoured to testify the 
 grace of Christ, and lift up her soul in prayer at 
 such a time, and under such circumstances, must 
 have been joy to your soul under the deepest grief. 
 Her father's expressing his wish she should not 
 leave him, too, must have inspired a hope, which 
 the efficacy of Divine grace, and the sovereignty of 
 Divine power proves our warrant to cherish. You 
 must be sensible how important it was, the faculties 
 of the mind being entire ; for it is much more fre- 
 quent that in cases of such rapid termination it is 
 far otherwise. I notice, and sympathize with you in 
 what you say of conscious failure in duty to your 
 husband's soul. We cannot part with any friend 
 without feeling we have come short either by pre- 
 cept or example. O that every admonition thus 
 
85 
 
 received may stir us up to renewed activity and 
 increased prayer, that God may enable us to 
 redeem the short period of remaining strength 
 granted, to his glory and the good of every soul 
 we have access to ! This is the true way to evince 
 our regret for what may have been deficient in the 
 past. I often think it is a device of Satan to divert 
 from present duty by unavailing grief for what we 
 cannot recall, and his end is gained as much by too 
 much as too little feeling on the point ; and the 
 former has so much the semblance of great devot- 
 edness to God that it deceives better, and lulls 
 conscience asleep. I never saw any thing like this 
 in you ; but I see so much of it, that I am sure you 
 will not be displeased with my stating my senti- 
 ments on the subject to you, 
 
 " I shall address this to Edinburgh, as you wrote 
 you was to spend some days this week with your 
 daughter; I feel pleased to think of your now, 
 while I am writing you, enjoying the solace of her 
 society. It was a great relief to me to hear she 
 had not suffered in her health. You say nothing 
 
 particular of either yourself or J a, but I trust 
 
 both are as well as I wish you, both in soul and 
 body. I hope when you can think of it, you will 
 make it a part of your plan to give us a share of 
 your time. Remember, my very dear friend, no 
 one has coveted more or had less of your society 
 
during the last twenty-five years. We wish to go 
 soon to the country, but cannot exactly fix our 
 plans, as Mr. Ewing is under engagement to preach 
 a Sabbath soon in Edinburgh, and as I have pro- 
 mised Mr. to pay him a visit to see my 
 
 grandnieces and nephew before they leave Heriot- 
 row; I plan making my time to suit either this 
 engagement of Mr. Ewing's, or the Congregational 
 Union Meeting, when I know when that will be. 
 Whenever it is I shall look forward to seeing you, 
 and hearing when you will be able to come to us. 
 You bid me tell you particularly about my health ; 
 I have been greatly better last week and this — I 
 had a very sharp bilious attack, which at first put 
 on the appearance of inflammation, and then a 
 very bad cold, with so much rheumatism in my 
 head, and feverishness, that I was reduced both 
 in flesh and strength ; but I am now making up 
 quickly.— By the first opportunity, I shall have the 
 pleasure of sending you the Service of Mr. Orme's 
 settlement at Camberwell, at which Mr. Ewing 
 having had a part, you will not wonder I like you 
 to see it, as I always have that desire. 
 
 '« We expect a Deputation from the Irish Evan- 
 gelical Society this week in Glasgow, and hope we 
 
 shall have Mr for our lodger ; I think you 
 
 heard and liked him when in Edinburgh two 
 years ago. 
 
87 
 
 " Miss C. and Mr. E. unite with me in kindest 
 and best wishes to you and yours ; and, I am, 
 " My very dear friend, 
 
 " Your truly aflfectionate friend, 
 
 " B. EWING.'* 
 
 For several years, we spent the summer in the 
 country, on account of Mrs. Ewing's health. We 
 always got a situation so near Glasgow, as to admit 
 of my attending my usual duties to the church, and 
 the academy; and while I could pursue my private 
 studies with less interruption, the health of both was 
 benefited, and my dear companion at once enjoyed 
 her beloved retirement, and maintained a more 
 extensive correspondence than ever with friends at 
 a distance. For the last four years, she felt herself 
 particularly happy in having got our summer quar- 
 ters on a farm belonging to her brother, with the 
 place of her birth in view, her native fields to range 
 in, and her nearest relations within a few minutes* 
 walk. It had been her lot, from her infancy, to 
 reside in remarkably fine situations : namely. Pol- 
 ice, Erskine, Finlayston, and Ardgowan. She had 
 been accustomed to all the beauties and sublimities 
 of our picturesque country. These she thoroughly 
 understood, and keenly relished, and was early 
 favoured to enjoy with a purifying and enhancing 
 influence, not unknown to any who are taught of 
 God. But to return to the beautiful and classic 
 grounds of the place of her nativity, where every 
 
88 
 
 spot was connected with some dear and early asso- 
 ciation ; to gather honeysuckles and roses in places, 
 which she recognised as the walks and rides of her 
 childhood and youth; to go from field to field, 
 where she was accustomed to see the game spring- 
 ing and starting before her ; to visit the Rannan, 
 and the Avenue, and the old gigantic Elms, and the 
 Majestic Wood which towers above the garden, and 
 the Shaiv-holm, and the Sheep-park, and Bangor's- 
 hill, and Crookston Castle; nay, and even within 
 what we called our own premises, to pursue daily 
 the more homely paths along the plough- formed 
 ridges, or on the banks of the river Cart, or to the 
 top of the Corkerhill; to mark the agricultural 
 operations of the season, the progress of the crops, 
 the swells of the undulating surface of the neigh- 
 bourhood, the far-stretching vales, the immense 
 ramparts of the bordering hills, and the peaks of 
 the distant mountains in every direction: — all 
 this gave exquisite delight: I shall ever cherish 
 the recollection : — but often it overwhelms me 
 to see her nimble gait, to hear her lively talk, 
 to think of her conversation, at all times so 
 superior on every subject, and never more so than 
 with a family party, or with her friend alone ; to 
 recollect many an advice, many a kind entreaty, 
 many an encouraging hope, which she faithfully 
 tendered ; yes, and many a song of joy, many a 
 hymn and psalm of praise, which her clear liquid 
 voice, and her affectionate ardent spirit, compelled 
 
89 
 
 me at once to admire, and humbly to accompany ! 
 i see, but the form vanishes; I hear, but the sound 
 dies away ; I cannot answer, for she waits not my 
 reply ; I cannot sing, for the effort deprives me of 
 utterance, and sometimes almost of the power of res- 
 piration ! One thing, however, comes to my relief. 
 I never heard her speak as if there was any place 
 which she could not leave, or any friend from 
 whom, at God's command, she could not consent 
 to be separated, at least for the present life. She 
 was pleased with her lot, but she confessed herself 
 a stranger, and a pilgrim on the earth. While she 
 adored the Creator, she bowed to the righteous sen- 
 tence, which hath made the creature subject to 
 vanity. She knew how frail we are; she admired 
 Divine workmanship in the humblest wild flower 
 that caught her eye, yet the sun in the firmament 
 could not tempt her to forget that all these things 
 shall be dissolved. She was ever ready to console 
 herself, and to animate me, with the Christian's 
 triumph, " Nevertheless we, according to his pro- 
 mise, look for new heavens, and a new earth, 
 wherein dwelleth righteousness."* 
 
 The following letter, written to the same dear 
 friend as the two preceding ones, when we had 
 just removed to the country, for the last time, 
 will in some measure, exemplify the details I 
 have given. 
 
 * 2 Pet. iii. 13. 
 
« CorkerhUl, 14th May, 1828. 
 " My very dear Friend, 
 " I have seated myself to obey you, in writing 
 you, the very first moment I could seize, since 
 receiving your very kind note of Saturday's date, 
 which I did on Monday, but that was a day of 
 very great bustle, as we were leaving Carl ton-place, 
 not again to sleep there, while the smell of the 
 painting Mr. Swing's study continued, and yester- 
 day I was fixed down with business I could not 
 let stand another day. The unfavourable weather 
 has been much against my dear husband, who is 
 still feeling his chest, and occasionally coughing, 
 though he has been once or twice a day without 
 coughing, he has been at other times very poorly, 
 and in a feverish sleepless state. On the whole, I 
 do hope he is gaining strength by country air and 
 exercise, and on Friday at the church meeting, 
 on Sabbath both parts of the day, he was so very 
 animated, that his people will hardly believe he is 
 yet so poorly. Our surgeon has begun him with 
 a new medicine, to which I trust the Lord may 
 give more efficacy than to any former one, though 
 he seems to think the advance of the season, and 
 the pure air here, is the only thing that will restore 
 him. Jane has had a sore throat, but has never 
 confined herself for it, and it is nearly gone she 
 says. I have been much in my usual way, not 
 
91 
 
 very stout, and not very ailing, at least not so as 
 to confine me to the house. 
 
 " In spite of the cold air, the country is looking 
 lovely. The gean trees,* and birches, looking 
 very gay in the copse woods, and the apple blos- 
 soms, shewing their blushing beauties either open 
 or budding. Many of our shrubs round our bird's 
 nest here, are full of flowers, and the country, 
 generally green, now looks so much more clothed, 
 I wish you could see it. — How beautiful God 
 makes this world in spite of all its sinfulness ! 
 What will that paradise above be where there 
 shall be nothing to hurt or to destroy, where shall 
 flow rivers of pleasure for evermore ! — I am glad 
 to find you read Orme's Discourses, I liked them 
 so much. We are in hopes of a visit from him. 
 I have written to entreat him to take some relaxa- 
 tion from his very great labours, and give us the 
 benefit of his company, which we greatly prize, 
 whilst he visits Glasgow. He is a most delightful 
 companion. If he preaches in Edinburgh, I will 
 let you know, as one seldom sees such a union of 
 talent and fervent piety, and Scriptural research 
 and simplicity. — We join in love and kindest 
 
 respects to you and your daughter and Miss 
 
 when you see her, and believe me, 
 
 " My very dear friend, 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 «« B. EWING." 
 • The wild cherry. 
 
I shall add one more letter to this beloved cor- 
 respondent, the perusal of which has been most 
 deeply affecting to myself. The reader will not 
 wonder at this, when I copy 'the memorandum 
 prefixed to it, by the affectionate possessor. " The 
 last letter I ever received from her who is now in 
 glory. Dear, kind, lamented friend, O to join 
 you, at the day of the Lord !" — There is also the 
 touching complaint of declining strength ; the felt 
 burden of increasing labour ; her concern for my 
 health, and the poor state of her own ; yet her 
 sympathy with all her companions in tribulation, 
 with one, soon after left a widow, and with a young- 
 Christian, opposed in the path of duty by hec own 
 father; her delight in the success of our itiner- 
 ating ministers ; her confidential detail of avoca- 
 tions which she never expected should meet the 
 eyes of the public ; and, amidst all her laborious 
 letter-writing, the length of this hasty letter to her 
 friend, of which, ample as they are, I give extracts 
 only ; it seems as if she could not shorten, however 
 pressed for time, the communication to so dear a 
 friend, although she could have no conception that 
 it was to be the last. 
 
 « Corkerhill, 30th July, 1828. 
 " My very dear Friend, 
 " Our letters so often cross on the road, that it 
 would not be easy to say, who should write next 
 if we felt any ceremony : but that not being the 
 
93 
 
 case, I often feel when I begin to write, that there 
 is some hope you may, at the very same time, be 
 wielding your pen for my behoof. I meant to have 
 written sooner, but I am one way or other kept so 
 busy, that my intentions are generally delayed by 
 the circumstances of the day, till when I do make 
 an effort extraordinary, and open the letter that is 
 to be answered, the first thing that strikes me is 
 the old date of it. But instead of apologies, which 
 would require to be made every time, I hope you 
 will always believe the will is never wanting to 
 keep up a close correspondence, but the power. 
 And that is decreasing, both from age unfitting 
 me for so much exertion, and the additional time 
 that it requires to go over my correspondents' 
 letters from their increase. The succession of stu- 
 dents, and their going to different fields of labour, 
 causes two or three new ones every year. Then, 
 you know, there are numerous things beyond our 
 own family, and our own circle, that I am called 
 to take a share in. You will have an instance of 
 this along with this very epistle. I send you the 
 little account printed of the itinerancies which 
 were supported from the proceeds of the sale. 
 You will see, that, as another is proposed next 
 spring in Edinburgh, 1 have had a few lines to 
 write to each of the hundred and fifty sent to me 
 for distribution, and besides these few lines for 
 general use, I have on hand a number of letters to 
 
94 
 
 write to such as I wish to beat up in their vicinity 
 for contributions towards it. By a letter from Mr. 
 
 S , in which he tells me he is carrying up 
 
 H h to see you, I find you are returned to 
 
 Edinburgh. I wish much to hear how poor Mrs. 
 
 C is, and if she has now any intention of 
 
 going to London for a consultation. — I hope to 
 
 hear colonel H has recovered this recent fit of 
 
 illness, and that his wife has been supported under 
 the anxiety she must have suffered. I can sym- 
 pathize with her from the state my dear husband 
 was in for months. I hope I may speak of it now 
 as the past. He certainly is very much better, and 
 I even think gaining a little of his lost flesh and 
 strength. May the Lord keep me from forgetting 
 the threatening, and enable us to praise him with 
 our hearts, and lips, and lives. I was surprised 
 
 at you, my dear friend, going into Mr. B 's 
 
 place of worship, after learning the dangerous state 
 it was in. I think such rashness is not trusting^ 
 but tempting Providence. And I am persuaded 
 
 Mr. B has the good sense to teach his people 
 
 this, and therefore I trust you will not again be in 
 such danger. 
 
 " I am sorry to hear of the state J a's friend 
 
 in the North is in, but hope the Lord will show 
 her her privilege in enduring persecution, and keep 
 her from falling. If she continues to hunger and 
 thirst after these things, she will soon see, that she 
 
95 
 
 must obey even a father only so far as she can by 
 obeying God also ; and if she is enabled to act 
 consistently, she will find, in pleasing God she will 
 make even her enemies to be at peace with her. 
 In being induced from any fear to forsake the 
 assembling with the people of God, which is a 
 direct injunction of God's own word, loss will be 
 suffered individually, and that light extinguished 
 which God calls for to enlighten others in the 
 knowledge of our God and Saviour. I hope my 
 
 friend J a will faithfully call her to attend 
 
 to this, and that the Lord will honour her in 
 thus delivering her own soul to lead her friend to 
 comfort and enjoyment of the blessing of God, 
 and to extend that blessing to all around. He 
 who calls us to endure, is faithful and true, and 
 will cause the wrath of man to praise him, and 
 
 restrain the residue. You bid me say how I 
 
 am in health myself. The late hot thundery 
 weather has had its usual effect on my bilious 
 system, and I have been obliged to resort to medi- 
 cine more than for many months. As yet I 
 have avoided calomel, and hope to do without 
 it. 1 have never been confined an hour to bed, 
 or a day to the house, so that I have much cause 
 for thankfulness. — I think I have answered all the 
 queries in your letter, and I could fill my sheet 
 with many gladsome accounts I have had from our 
 ministers, who have, in all directions, been making 
 
96 
 
 the gospel sound in the ears of their fellow-sinners, 
 and where they have seen somewhat of the fulfil- 
 ment of God's promise, that his word shall not 
 return to him void. But I have four other letters 
 to write, and time will not admit, especially as I 
 have my sweet widowed friend, Mrs. S , stay- 
 ing with me, and she leaves me on Friday. Indeed, 
 you will have had your eyes tired with the length 
 of this. — We join in love, and I am, my very dear 
 friend, 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 "B. EWING." 
 
 As I must soon approach the closing scenes of 
 my Memoir, I shall here give three specimens 
 more of my beloved wife's correspondence. They 
 are taken from among her latest letters to my 
 daughter, and have already been promised.* The 
 first was written soon after our return from our 
 last visit to Durham. Mrs. Ewing had been, more 
 than usual, in an ailing way. It was thought a 
 jaunt might be of service ; and we were both desir- 
 ous to see my daughter after the birth of her third 
 child. To render the journey more easy and inter- 
 esting, we planned going by a new route, making 
 short stages, and forming a few itinerating engage- 
 ments by the way. Accordingly, I preached at 
 
 * See p. 66. 
 
97 
 
 Peebles, Hawick, and Kelso, in going; and at 
 Newcastle, Berwick, and Portobello, in returning ; 
 at each of which places we stopped for the night. 
 We set out on the 25th of Sept. and returned on 
 the 12th of Oct. 1827. On our return, we had 
 very bad weather, and Mrs. Ewing suffered much 
 from illness, both in the journey, and after we got 
 home. She was greatly pleased, however, with 
 the visit to Durham. It gave us an opportunity 
 of seeing the dear little girl, whom we should not 
 have otherwise seen in this world, because, though 
 then in perfect health, she was in the spring carried 
 off by hooping cough; the Lord, we believe, hav- 
 ing taken her to himself. We had also much 
 satisfaction in beholding the Christian temper and 
 deportment of our young friends, in the midst of 
 their rising family, and in the place of their resi- 
 dence ; and especially the growing usefulness of 
 the pastor, and the prosperity of the church under 
 his care. 
 
 These topics are all referred to in the following 
 letter to Mrs. Matheson : 
 
 " Glasgow, 24th October, 1827. 
 
 " My dear Jessy, 
 
 " I did not think, when we parted, that so long 
 
 a time would elapse before I wrote you — but we 
 
 know not what a day or an hour may produce* 
 
 I rose earlier on Monday week, with the hope and 
 
98 
 
 desire that I should begin the letter, which your 
 father had to write altogether. There was so much 
 to do, it was with difficulty I got in time to the 
 boat, and that I may say was my last exertion. I 
 had felt my throat slightly on Sabbath, and was not 
 at all well on Monday, but thought Corker-hill air, 
 and quietness, would set all to rights. Instead of 
 this, I became worse and worse, and suffered very 
 great pain with the rose in my head, face, and 
 neck, which fevered me. I am now greatly better, 
 though the swelling is not quite gone, and I am 
 very feeble. Some people say, thus all the benefit 
 of your journey is lost. But how do we know, but 
 that for the strength gained by the journey, my 
 frame could not have stood this attack. This I 
 know, the Lord granted me very great enjoyment, 
 and though in all things I come short, I think I 
 may say, filled me with gratitude, for what I saw 
 of his goodness and grace to you and yours. My 
 mind recurred to it in many a painful sleepless 
 hour, and I trust it will tune a song of praise 
 beyond the limits of this vale of tears. When I 
 contrast my fears and anxieties, and prayers, and 
 tears, on your account, with what the Lord has 
 now done in you and for you ; I see his ways and 
 thoughts are not as ours. As to temporal things, 
 that even is cause of much thanksgiving compared 
 with many, but especially when I see you devoted 
 to His service, and honoured to minister to the 
 
m 
 
 comfort of one whom his Master is owning so much 
 as a faithful labourer in his vineyard. May the 
 Lord hear prayer for a blessing on your training 
 your dear children for him. I know and sympa- 
 thize in your travailing in birth again for them, 
 till Christ be formed in their hearts, and you have 
 had more advantages than I had of knowing how 
 to instruct and impress their minds, having been en- 
 tirely without early cultivation myself. I also know 
 you will feel with me that the highest motive to have 
 them in subjection is to restrain them from sinning 
 against God. I am delighted to see much warmth 
 of affection in Greville. This will give you a 
 stronger hold than any thing in the world, for he 
 is high spirited. And if you study to be firm with 
 him, you will gain by example considerably on 
 James. I am sensible you have improved since 
 you were in Scotland, and that you will find the 
 benefit more and more, both to your own comfort 
 and their happiness. I often think I see the groupe 
 of dear interesting little faces. ... A pious 
 wife seems to me peculiarly necessary for a minis- 
 ter. May you and I be honoured to help the faith 
 and joy and spirituality of our dear partners, and 
 we shall receive the benefit even to our own souls 
 under their ministry. We unite in love to you, 
 Mr. Matheson, and the children, and I am, 
 " My dear Jessy, 
 
 " Your truly affectionate, 
 
 «B. EWING." 
 
100 
 
 Notwithstanding the serious illness mentioned 
 in the preceding letter, Mrs. Ewing ventured to 
 take an active part in the sale of ladies' work for 
 the City Mission. Of this some account will be 
 found in the next letter, together with a descrip- 
 tion of the manner in which, with the aid of some 
 dear friends, we spent the anniversary of our mar- 
 riage, which proved to be the last. 
 
 " Glasgow, 16th November, 1827. 
 " My dear Jessy, 
 
 " I am happy to say your father is almost 
 
 well. I have got quite the better of my last illness^ 
 and stood the fatigue of the sale wonderfully. We 
 had three days of it. And next week, on Wed- 
 nesday, we are all to make an effort to sell off the 
 whole." Then follows a list of the sums already 
 drawn, from which it appeared the total was at 
 that time ^549 : : Id. " I did not forget your 
 working society, and shall send you some things 
 for it, which, though trifling, may be patterns, 
 and, as I d) not think you will be able to do much, 
 may be a substitute for your deficiency. I shall 
 delay sending them till I hear from you, in case 
 you wish any little thing that is best got here. 
 
 We had a very delightful party here yesterday 
 of our most particular friends to unite with us in 
 giving thanks to our gracious God for all his 
 goodness and mercy during a quarter of a century 
 that we had been spared together. It was our 
 
101 
 
 marriage day.'* — (After mentioning the names of 
 the party, she proceeds.) — " You may be sure you 
 and yours were not forgotten, and Mr. Matheson, 
 and his flock and congregation, were duly remem- 
 bered also, in our prayers and thanksgivings. May 
 all the unmerited goodness, and long continued 
 kindness of the Lord to us and ours, lead to more 
 zeal and devotedness in all of us, and this will 
 assuredly increase our happiness. Our worthy 
 
 member old Mrs. W n has fallen asleep in 
 
 Jesus. Her latter end was truly peace. She re- 
 tained her faculties, and her enjoyment of spiritual 
 things throughout. Indeed, she had no complaint, 
 just wore away from weakness. I am very happy 
 the lady (you spoke of) liked * Brief Thoughts.'* 
 I do not know any thing clearer on the subject of 
 the hinderances to believing the gospel. — We join 
 in love to you and your fireside, and I am, 
 " My dear Jessy, 
 " Yours very affectionately, 
 
 ''B. EWING." 
 
 In the course of the winter, Mr. Matheson's 
 three children were seized with hooping-cough, 
 which proved fatal to the youngest, Catherine 
 Lawson, in the beginning of March. 
 
 The following is the letter, which Mrs. Ewing 
 wrote to Mrs. Matheson on that occasion ; 
 
 « See p, 55. 
 
102 
 
 " Glasgow, 11th March, 1828. 
 " My dear Jessy, 
 " I feel it no small cause of thanksgiving that 
 you know where and to whom to go in this time 
 of trouble, and that you could tell us you found 
 the Lord a very present help on the very day you 
 had seen your sweet babe close her eyes on time. 
 We do indeed serve a good Master, and the 
 blessed and glorious hope given in the gospel of 
 life and immortality, must cheer the heart even 
 while flesh and blood feels deeply and keenly. I 
 am sure either you or Mr. Matheson will write us 
 again soon, for you will know how much you 
 occupy our thoughts at present. We trust the 
 Lord supported and carried you through the trial 
 and duties of Wednesday. It is pleasant for us to 
 know you are in the midst of kind and sympa- 
 thizing friends, and above all, to know that you 
 have the care and sympathy of Him, who, in all 
 our afflictions, is afflicted. You will probably 
 before this have got the parcel which I sent off 
 without having time to write, and you will also 
 have got my letter, sent in the last frank I got 
 before my nephew went away. I hope we shall 
 hear the dear boys continue in a mild way ; the 
 season is greatly in their favour, though, till within 
 these two days, it has been very cold east wind 
 with us ; but the season is advancing, and I hope 
 will scon be fine. This will be also in your father's 
 
103 
 
 favour I trust, for he is still ailing, I am sorry to 
 
 say. My friend Mrs. T r and her daughter 
 
 are with us, they go for three days to Ayrshire next 
 week, and these we hope to spend at Corkerhill ; 
 they and we will meet on Friday, and then I hope 
 the following week, when they leave us, we shall 
 get permanently to the country, which the doctor 
 thinks will be of great use, and I am sure we shall 
 have your prayers, and those of many, that that 
 may be the blessed means of restoring him to 
 health, and ability for usefulness; for he is very 
 unwilling, even now, to spare himself as much as 
 we all think he should. He has agreed not to go 
 out to-night, and only to lecture on Sabbath. His 
 cough has not, on the whole, been so troublesome 
 for some days, especially in the night, and he slept 
 better last night than for three nights before ; but 
 at times he feels flat and unwell, and then at other 
 times he is as lively in expounding or prayer as 
 you ever saw him. You must excuse the shortness 
 of this. We join in kindest love and good wishes. 
 Many have been the kind inquiries, and kind 
 wishes expressed for you. I made the intimations 
 I thought you would wish here, but suppose, as you 
 
 said nothing of Edinburgh friends, Mr. M 
 
 took charge of that. I am, 
 
 " My dear Jessy, 
 " Most affectionately yours, 
 
 " B. EWING." 
 
104 
 
 Mrs. Swing's active life was the more remark- 
 able, that she was exceedingly liable to violent indis- 
 positions. She must have had an excellent consti- 
 tution ; she possessed great muscular strength ; she 
 required extraordinary exercise, and was always the 
 better of taking it, in the open air, and in the 
 country. But, when living in town, especially if 
 confined by bad weather to the house, she expe- 
 rienced many of the distressing symptoms of a 
 bilious tendency, which not only overpowered her 
 at the time, but reduced her frequently to a state 
 of great and alarming debility, from which she did 
 not easily or speedily recover. At one period, she 
 had such a troublesome and obstinate cough, that 
 it was feared her lungs were in danger, but happily 
 that fear proved to be groundless; at another 
 period, she was very often afflicted with dreadful 
 headachs ; and afterwards when these became less 
 severe, and occurred at greater intervals, they 
 were succeeded by very serious indications of liver 
 complaint. Yet, in all these illnesses, while inured 
 to severe pain, she was never subject to depression 
 of spirits. Whether it should be ascribed to 
 bodily temperament, or strength of mind, or 
 Christian hope, and divine consolation ; or whether 
 we should gratefully acknowledge a happy union 
 of all these blessings, the fact is unquestionable, 
 that she enjoyed a wonderful buoyancy to bear 
 her up under trouble, and never more, than when 
 
105 
 
 it threatened to prove fatal. Her invincible 
 patience, and fortitude, and . cheerfulness, seemed 
 equal to repel the most formidable assaults of 
 disease, and really to operate as a principle of 
 restoration. Of late years, indeed, she had been 
 gradually getting so much better on the whole, 
 that we were beginning to hope for a greater 
 stability of health, in the decline of life, than she 
 had ever known before. How far our fond hopes 
 might have been realized, it has been the will of 
 our heavenly Father, that we should not discover. 
 The reader will have learned, from some of the 
 preceding letters, that my health had been, in a 
 rather declining state, from the beginning of the 
 winter of 1827. In the following spring, our 
 medical friends advised my getting soon to the 
 country, and trying change of air, and scene, as 
 much as possible, in the course of the summer. 
 This led Mrs. Ewing to take every opportunity of 
 carrying me from home. We accepted a kind 
 invitation to visit some friends in Arran. We 
 made an excursion to Loch-Lomond, and, finally, 
 to the Falls of Clyde. And I feel it to be one of 
 the bitter ingredients in the cup of my sorrow, 
 that my beloved companion seems to have fallen a 
 victim to her ardent desire, to complete the re- 
 establishment of my health. 
 
 Writing after the event, I feel it difficult to 
 believe, that any of the circumstances which pre- 
 
106 
 
 ceded it were not gloomy and ominous. Certainly, 
 it befell me in a year, crowded with occurrences of 
 awful visitation. My eldest sister, my youngest 
 grand-child, my only remaining brother, were 
 removed by death within three months after its 
 commencement; and harvest was not over, when 
 the Lord " took away from me the desire of mine 
 eyes with a stroke."* There were no doubt bright 
 days that summer, and pleasant scenes too, which 
 heighten by contrast the succeeding distress. My 
 departed friend greatly enjoyed, and zealously 
 improved each cheering interval. But her sur- 
 vivor feels, as if he had yielded to a spirit of delu- 
 sive security, and dangerous infatuation. His 
 mind was easy as to this world, supposing his 
 "help-meet" would take care of him, and his 
 affairs, all his life ; and how far he required to be 
 roused from a spiritual lethargy, and to be chas- 
 tised for his sins, it is perhaps intended he should 
 learn from the blow he has received. 
 
 So far as a fellow creature can judge, Mrs. Ewing 
 was never in a higher state of readiness to obey 
 the call of her Lord. In the early part of the 
 year, she had revised the arrangement of her tem- 
 poral affairs. She had examined her papers and 
 letters down to the 22d of the month before her 
 death ; burning many, and leaving directions re- 
 specting such as she allowed to remain. In various 
 
 * Ezek. xxiv. 16. 
 
lo-r 
 
 other respects, she acted like one who had what 
 has been called a presentiment of death ; and yet 
 she was under no alarm, and, to all appearance, 
 bid as fair for life, and improved health, as in any 
 prior period of our union. On no religious point 
 was there any change in her spirit and conduct ; 
 but the most exemplary stedfastness, the most 
 energetic perseverance, was daily manifested. She 
 was truly a disciple waiting for her Lord. How 
 often did I feel myself humbled by a conscientious 
 diligence, which was continually leaving me far 
 behind ! 
 
 As an Introduction to the account of our dread- 
 ful calamity, and at the same time a specimen of 
 her spirit in writing only a few lines, I insert Mrs. 
 Ewing's last letter to Mrs. H n : 
 
 "4, Carlton-place, Monday, 8th Sept., 1828. 
 " My very dear Friend, 
 
 " We are very sorry to find your dear husband 
 has been suffering so much. We hope to call and 
 see you to-morrow; but are all of opinion you 
 ought not to propose our dining with you, which 
 we would all have had much pleasure in doing, 
 had Mr. H been well. 
 
 "Our trip to Lanark has been delayed till 
 Wednesday, on account of the children* having 
 
 * Mr. Cathcart's children, then with us, along with their 
 parents. 
 
108 
 
 been vaccinated, and Dr. Anderson is to call at 
 eleven to-morrow to examine their arms, when we 
 could not be absent, therefore, we will not come 
 in the boat, but in a coach, and would make it 
 the hour most convenient for you. 
 
 " I hope we mutually remember each other at 
 a throne of grace, and that the Lord will bless the 
 word preached to build up all of us who are in 
 fellowship, and to add to us of those who are yet 
 to bring in. I grieve at your missing yesterday's 
 lecture. With best love, I am, 
 
 " My dear friend, 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 " B. EWING." 
 
 Notwithstanding the above, we did dine the day 
 following with our dear friends, and it might be 
 considered as the last dinner, of which she was 
 able to partake. 
 
 In the morning of Wednesday, the 10th of 
 September, 1828, the day of our journey to the 
 Falls of Clyde, when the coach had come to the 
 door, my dear wife came to me in the study, and 
 said, " Let us commit ourselves to God." Little 
 did either of us think, that we were now to close 
 those exercises of secret social worship, which 
 always had so greatly enhanced to vis the comforts 
 of our sweet home. Standing together, hand in 
 hand, we spent a few minutes in prayer, commit- 
 
109 
 
 ting ourselves, and each other, and our dear fellow 
 travellers, to God, for time and eternity, and par- 
 ticularly for the excursion on which we were setting 
 out — Alas ! the excursion proved fatal ! What 
 then ? Were our prayers unavailing ? I cannot 
 allow it. Whoever prays daily must one day 
 receive, in the providence of God, a similar answer. 
 Death met us; but (let the reader judge) God did 
 not forsake us. He stood by the sufferer to the 
 last moment, when he took her to himself. Would 
 she not, does she not, join me in saying, nothing 
 happened to prevent us from adhering to the 
 apostle's testimony; "I know whom I have 
 believed, and am persuaded that he is able to 
 keep that which 1 have committed unto him 
 against that day."* 
 
 We immediately stepped into the carriage, and 
 drove from the door of that house, which her pre- 
 sence had made a happy dwelling for four and 
 twenty years ; but to which now she was never to 
 return. She was saved the pain of taking a last 
 look ; — and I did not anticipate, that, instead of 
 coming back next day, with my beloved com- 
 panion, and her affectionate relatives, a happy 
 couple with a joyous family party, I should arrive, 
 at the interval of a week, in the darkness of the 
 evening, a desolate widower, preceded by the life- 
 
 • 2 Tim. i. 12. 
 
110 
 
 less remains of her who was now sitting cheerfully 
 beside me; accompanied by a fellow-sufferer, 
 bruised, and lame, bereaved, like myself, of her 
 most intimate friend upon earth, with whom she 
 had long lived as a sister rather than a cousin ; 
 and leaving the rest of the company disabled near 
 the spot, where the death-blow had been given to 
 my beloved wife, and we had all been brought, in 
 a moment, to the brink of eternity. 
 
 During the first stage we met with nothing 
 remarkable. At Wishawtown, we breakfasted, and 
 fed the horses. Before setting out again, the 
 weather, which had been dark and showery in the 
 morning, became fine. We, therefore, ordered 
 the top of the carriage to be opened ; congratu- 
 lating ourselves on the favourable day for enjoying 
 a view of the country, which becomes so romantic 
 towards Lanark. In perfect safety we descended 
 the many slopes of the road along the high grounds, 
 which hang over the house of Lee ; looking down 
 with impunity over much steeper banks, than that 
 on which we were so soon to be overwhelmed with 
 distress. At the bridge across Cartland Craigs, 
 we left the carriage for a little, and walked to the 
 usual place for taking a passing view of that won- 
 derful ravine. A person whom we met there, kept 
 telling us of a lady who had been killed immedi- 
 ately below, by going too near the edge of the 
 opposite precipice. The story seemed to have 
 
Ill 
 
 made Mrs. Ewing nervous ; for she discovered 
 uncommon alarm, when Miss Cathcart stumbled, 
 as she was turning, in the narrow path, to go away. 
 I smiled at Barbara's trepidation, as if danger in 
 our case had been out of the question. 
 
 On arriving at Lanark, we ordered dinner and 
 beds at the inn, intending to remain there that 
 day, and to return, the day following, by Hamilton, 
 to Glasgow. We then proposed to take forward 
 the carriage as far as possible, to diminish the walk 
 the party must have, in viewing the Falls of Corras 
 and Bonnington, and the Mills of New Lanark ; 
 all which we hoped to accomplish before dinner. 
 We had entered the Bonnington avenue, had 
 passed the first, and were approaching the second 
 gate, where strangers put down their names, and 
 proceed on foot to view the Falls of Clyde. We 
 were so near this gate, that, in three minutes, we 
 should, at any rate, have left the carriage till our 
 return. Here there is a descent on the edge of a 
 steep bank ; but the road is good ; I had gone the 
 same road before in a carriage, without any dis- 
 aster; the coachman seemed to advance confi- 
 dently, yet slowly, as he had been desired ; Mr. 
 Cathcart's servant, who was also on the box, says 
 he proposed to the coachman to put on the drag, 
 who answered it was unnecessary. I can say 
 nothing from my own observation, for I was sitting 
 with my back to the horses. I was on the right- 
 
112 
 
 hand side of the carriage, which was the side 
 nearest the declivity; my wife was next me on my 
 right hand ; and Miss Cathcart beyond her, on 
 tiie same seat ; Mr. and Mrs. Cathcart were oppo- 
 site. On beginning to descend, Mrs. Cathcart, 
 looking forward, said, " I think we had better 
 stop, and get out here." Her look rather alarmed 
 me ; but, to the best of my recollection, I made 
 no answer. Presently, my wife said, " It is too 
 late to bid him stop now." In an instant after, 
 I heard both the coachman and Mr. Cathcart's 
 servant begin to scream, in consequence of finding, 
 as I suppose, that the carriage was going off the 
 road. I believe they both leapt from the box, the 
 one to the one side, the other to the other ; but I 
 saw not what they did. I now felt the coach go 
 off the road, fall to the right, first on its side, 
 then turn over, bottom uppermost, and go down 
 the precipitous bank a considerable way imme- 
 diately above us, and throw us out on the ground 
 with much force, and finally fall on its other side, 
 when it was stopped from falling farther, by some 
 trees, I believe; and I saw it resting, with Miss 
 Cathcart lying under it from the breast downwards; 
 Mr. and Mrs. Cathcart, both evidently injured, 
 lying near each other, a little behind ; Mrs. Ewing 
 sitting on the bank a little before, and apparently 
 stretching her hand towards Miss Cathcart ; while 
 I was left a little higher on the bank, conscious of 
 
113 
 
 some sort of shock in my left shoulder, but not, 
 at the time, sensible of any material hurt. I now 
 heard the servant cry, " Miss Cathcart is killed ;" 
 this called my attention to her perilous situation ; 
 I slid down to attempt to raise the coach, and to 
 draw her out from belov/ it ; and, after some inef- 
 fectual struggles, with the assistance of the servant, 
 and her own efforts, she was extricated. 
 
 I then turned towards my wife, whose place was 
 now a little above my position ; and, for the first 
 time, perceived the dreadful calamity; — her right 
 leg broken close by the ankle — the leg-bone pro- 
 truded far through the skin — the foot quite out of 
 its place — the fracture of the bone, the laceration 
 of the flesh, and the streaming of the blood, — all 
 equally appalling ! And yet she was sitting in 
 silence, with perfect composure. To my exclama- 
 tion of agony, she calmly replied, " Yes; — I cannot 
 help it; — the will of God be done !" 
 
 The cause of this fatal fracture is not known. 
 Tremendous as the blow must have been, my dear 
 sufferer said to me, " I was not aware of having 
 got any injury, till I found my foot would not 
 serve me to go to Jane Cathcart." 
 
 I sprung up the bank, and began to run towards 
 New Lanark calling out for a surgeon. — I am told, 
 Mrs. Ewing said, as I went off, " Is there nobody 
 to go after my poor husband ; for he is not able to 
 run in that manner." In a few minutes, a gentle- 
 
114 
 
 man overtook me, and assured me, that two men 
 had ah'eady gone for sm-geons ; that they knew 
 where to find them ; and that I might depend on 
 then- coming with all possible speed. This was 
 most providential ; for I felt myself unable to keep 
 up the pace at which I was running ; and I had 
 misgivings of heart at the thought of leaving my 
 poor dear wife in the hour of her distress, to faint, 
 and to die, perhaps, in the midst of strangers. I 
 hastened back to her ; found her sitting as before 
 with composure, and patience, and bearing her 
 pain with the most heroic fortitude. The alarm 
 was rapidly spread. From all quarters, friendly 
 people began to surround us. For a moment, 
 Mrs. Ewing felt annoyed at the eagerness, with 
 which so many spectators gazed on the whole party, 
 and particularly on herself, whose wound was so 
 severe and manifest. " Oh !" (she said to me) 
 " what an exposure !" But when I replied, that 
 she must not mind that, in present circumstances, 
 and placed myself so as to screen her as much as 
 possible from the publicity which she felt to be 
 distressing, she complained no more ; submitting 
 to the necessity of the case ; and no doubt having 
 her attention withdrawn by the sliarpness of the 
 pain, from inferior considerations. The spectators 
 also behaved with the greatest gentleness, sym- 
 pathy, and delicacy, and showed the kindest zeal 
 and tenderness in rendering assistance. 
 
115 
 
 In a wonderfully short time, the assistant of the 
 surgeon at New Lanark came to the spot, and 
 announced the speedy arrival of his principal. 
 Till then, he declined doing any thing himself, 
 and declared, what was indeed very evident, that 
 the sufferers must all be removed to suitable quar- 
 ters, before they could be properly examined, or 
 any thing done for their relief. — I begged the kind 
 bystanders to get a door taken from its hinges, 
 and brought for Mrs. Ewing. This was soon 
 done, and the cushions which had been taken from 
 the carriage being placed on it, she was lifted to 
 it, and sat on them, (for she could not lie down,) 
 with her fractured leg stretched out before her, 
 and supporting herself behind with her hands ; 
 while the people carried her as well as they could, 
 along the precipitous bank, and with no small 
 difficulty reached the road. Her removal to the 
 door ; the jolting, irregular steps of the willing, 
 but inexperienced, and agitated bearers ; and (as 
 the breadth of the door made it impossible for any 
 one walking beside her to give her assistance,) the 
 awkward, unsupported position, in which she was 
 obliged to remain for, I suppose, not less than an 
 hour, were all grievous aggravations of her afflic- 
 tion. The bearers required to be changed several 
 times ; but no change, so much as of posture, could 
 her situation admit of; she made no complaint ; 
 but it is my wonder that she did not repeatedly 
 faint. She was prevented, I suppose, from doing 
 
116 
 
 so, not by the sustenance of bodily strength, but 
 by the excitement of the agony which she must 
 have been enduring. 
 
 The first place, to which she was carried, was 
 the Lodge, where visitors of the Falls put down 
 their names. But there was no room there, to 
 receive so much as one. We were, therefore, 
 obliged to retrace our steps, and to go towards New 
 Lanark. We now met the people, with the rest 
 of our party, coming after us ; and they also were 
 obliged to change their course. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Cathcart, who were the next sufferers to Mrs. 
 Ewing in point of severity, were carried in chairs ; 
 and Miss Cathcart was, though much bruised, 
 capable of proceeding a little way, supported by 
 two men, and was afterwards put into a chaise, 
 which had been very promptly sent down from 
 the Inn at Old Lanark. 
 
 Before we left the lodge, the surgeon, whose 
 assistant had already come, reached us. At first, 
 indeed, on overtaking the rest of the party, he 
 thought Mr. Cathcart was the most severely hurt ; 
 and apparently near death. He therefore pro- 
 posed to examine him immediately. But, on per- 
 ceiving this intention, Mr. Cathcart said, " Oh 
 no ! go first to Mrs. Ewing." He therefore came 
 on to us, and saw the necessity of our proceeding 
 towards New Lanark. — And now the question was, 
 where could we be lodged ? There were five to 
 be accommodated. There was no large dwelling 
 
117 
 
 house, with spare rooms, immediately at hand. 
 None of the managers of the mills had yet been 
 found. Every body was willing to receive us, but 
 nobody could receive us all. And the extremity 
 of the case admitted of no delay. The worthy 
 surgeon offered to take three into his own house, 
 and to carry Mrs. Ewing to a large good room in 
 the neighbourhood of the spot where we now were. 
 But she must have been carried up stairs to a 
 fourth floor ; and we shrunk from the idea of being 
 separated. In this dilemma, Braxfield House 
 occurred to us ; a part of it being possessed by 
 Mrs. Owen, our esteemed Christian friend, who, 
 we were sure, would make us welcome. But we 
 were told that she and her family were from home. 
 When we knew not what to do, Mr. Walker, the 
 gentleman to whom the other part of Braxfield 
 House belonged, kindly sent, as soon as he heard 
 of our calamity, to invite us to take possession, 
 and opened it for our reception. And though he 
 was not living in it, at the time, and it was unfur- 
 nished, every thing was provided with so much 
 celerity, that the beds were ready almost as soon as 
 the poor sufferers could arrive to be laid on them. 
 Notwithstanding these most generous exertions, 
 executed, I believe, by the humane orders of the 
 managers, and the compassionate zealous activity 
 of the numerous and expert workmen, of the New 
 Lanark mills; some degree of delay had been 
 
118 
 
 unavoidable. Again, and again, a halt had taken 
 place, to inquire where we might go. Consulta- 
 tion, perplexity, various kind offers successively 
 announced to us, and the fluctuations of haste and 
 trepidation, in making a selection, consumed the 
 precious moments. Meanwhile, the alarm was 
 bringing together the numerous population of all 
 the neighbourhood. The dinner hour sent forth 
 the whole body of workers, young and old, from 
 the mills. Although none annoyed us willingly, 
 the pressure became embarrassing; it was difficult to 
 get on ; and the heat threatened to overpower us. 
 This continued till we were past the mills, and 
 was not quite removed, till we reached Braxfield 
 Gate. 
 
 The distance from the fatal spot to Braxfield 
 House is, I suppose, not less than a mile. Through- 
 out the whole of this dolorous way, Mrs. Ewing 
 retained her self-possession. She was attentive to 
 every circumstance, but nothing disconcerted her. 
 Her leg was covered only with her handkerchief, 
 from under which the blood was flowing along the 
 door, on which she was carried. Her bonnet had 
 been torn in the fall, and was put off*: only her 
 cap remained on her head. I could advert to 
 nothing at the time, except the deplorable circum- 
 stances of our situation. But afterwards, when 
 the universal testimony of strangers was reported 
 to me, that they had never seen such an expression 
 
119 
 
 of united dignity and piety in similar distress 
 before, I could distinctly recollect that her benign 
 countenance had truly appeared to the greatest 
 advantage. This, accompanied by the propriety 
 of her demeanour, must indeed have struck every 
 beholder. — Amidst all the tumult, and all the 
 suffering, her kind looks were constantly bent on 
 me, as I walked by her side ; and, ever and anon, 
 as our eyes met, she forced her features to a smile ; 
 — a courageous, sweet, languid, evanescent smile ; 
 — intended to cheer me, but from my poor dear 
 wife in such a condition, so irresistibly heart- 
 rending, that I know not, when she at last desisted 
 from it, whether she was checked by her own 
 exhaustion, or by observing its effect in agitating 
 my mind. — The crowd heard not the sound of her 
 voice, except occasionally a few that were near, 
 when she confirmed our wavering purposes, by 
 her judicious decisions, on the offers made tons 
 of hospitality and service. But it was the will of 
 God that thousands should be brought together to 
 witness the eminent example of the resignation, 
 patience, and fortitude, of a delicate woman, of 
 acute sensibility, amidst excruciating sufferings, 
 which had come on her in a moment, and were 
 very soon to prove mortal. This was not an or- 
 dinary dispensation of Providence to any of them. 
 Surely, they will never forget it. May God in 
 mercy bless it to us all, for the good of our souls ! 
 
120 
 
 By the time we laid Mrs. Ewing on the bed, 
 from which she never rose, there were four or five 
 medical gentlemen present, who proceeded to 
 examine her fracture; and I every moment expected 
 to hear the dreadful word amputation ; as I did 
 not imagine, that any thing else could possibly be 
 accomplished, in so bad a case. With my hand 
 locked in that of my beloved sufferer, I sat in 
 breathless suspense ; while she could not but cry 
 out, and groan, (though in a wonderfully sup- 
 pressed degree,) while writhing under her agony 
 now greater than ever, from the handling and 
 stretching, necessary in setting the limb. I could 
 hardly believe my hearing, when it was said, that 
 the bone was set, and the foot restored to its 
 proper place, and position. It was, indeed, good 
 news for the moment ; but the poor dear patient 
 continued to suffer such increased pain, that neither 
 of us could think of any thing else ; nor did it 
 appear from the event, that we had any reason to 
 be elated. I am satisfied, however, that all that 
 man could do was done. The bone was set by 
 Mr. William Gibson of New Lanark, who with 
 Mr. Fleming of Old Lanark, were the surgeons of 
 the neighbourhood, who attended all the party. 
 The examination and treatment of the patients 
 occupied the surgeons the whole evening. By 
 Mrs. Ewing's suggestion, I had despatched a 
 messenger, immediately after the event happened. 
 
121 
 
 for Dr. A. D. Anderson of Glasgow, who, on his 
 arrival, soon after midnight, approved of all that 
 had been done, and continued with us till next 
 day. 
 
 Lady Mary Ross of Bonnington, with part of her 
 family, and Colonel Strutt and part of his family, 
 then on a visit to her, were at Braxfield House, as 
 soon as ourselves ; she and they visited us almost 
 daily; and their attentions were most important 
 to our welfare, as long as any of us remained there. 
 She recommended Mr. Gibson to our confidence, 
 as a skilful and attentive surgeon, whom she 
 employed in her own family. She directed us to 
 excellent attendants from the Lodge at Braxfield 
 gate, which were immediately obtained. — She also 
 had the goodness to assist in writing to friends, 
 and made numberless other efforts to mitigate our 
 sufferings, and to calm our minds. 
 
 When strangers had withdrawn, and the events 
 of this terrible day were brought to a close, we 
 could not but adore the compassion of God, that, 
 after what had happened, such good accommoda- 
 tion was provided for us all. The very circum- 
 stance of the house being empty made us feel more 
 at liberty ; inasmuch as we gave no disturbance to 
 a resident family. The comfort too of being all 
 lodged together was very precious. Every one 
 could thus easily make known his own situation, 
 and learn, at any moment, the situation of all the 
 
122 
 
 rest. Some of us could even give assistance to 
 their friends. From our arrival, Miss Cathcart, 
 though sadly bruised and lamed, had been going 
 from room to room, as if she had not been a 
 patient herself; and her own room was within 
 call of her brother's on the one hand, and ours on 
 the other. — But my poor dear wife suffered violent 
 pain all night long. Great was the agony of the 
 setting of the bone ; but the pain which she after- 
 wards complained of at the fractured point of it, 
 was much greater after the setting than before it. 
 They had given her black drop, (for she durst not 
 use laudanum,) in the hope of procuring for her 
 some mitigation and rest; but it produced no 
 discernible effect till the following day. It had 
 also been necessary to fasten the fractured leg to 
 a splinter-board, to prevent the bone from shifting ; 
 the effect of which was to nail, as it were, immov- 
 ably to one spot, an active limb, and thereby to 
 aggravate exceedingly the irritability of all the 
 parts of the agitated and restless body. 
 
 Next morning, we were laid under fresh obliga- 
 tions by many very handsome offers of service, 
 from worthy individuals, and families, in the 
 neighbourhood. The Rev. William Menzies, 
 minister of the parish, and his lady, waited on us 
 with various comforts : his lady bringing dresses 
 for the ladies, and proposing to remain herself to 
 nurse them. From being prepared, at any rate. 
 
123 
 
 to spend a night in the journey, and attendants 
 having been instantly procured on our coming to 
 Braxfield, some of these kind proofs of sympa- 
 thy and attention were rendered unnecessary. 
 But we did not feel the less obliged. I am con- 
 scious of being indebted, in a similar manner, to 
 many, whose names I never knew, or have forgot; 
 and I would here take an opportunity of expressing 
 my fear, that, from having my mind absorbed 
 with one object, I may have been deficient in 
 making acknowledgments, where they are due. I 
 do hope, that omissions of this nature, which I 
 sincerely regret, will be generously forgiven. 
 
 In the course of the day, Mrs. Ewing became 
 drowsy, and at last obtained some intervals of 
 sleep; and the severity of the pain was so far 
 mitigated, that towards evening she once said, she 
 was surprised to find herself so easy. At night, 
 however, when she mentioned her expectation, 
 that the medical gentlemen would allow her 
 another dose of the black drop ; they were under 
 the necessity of acknowledging, that they were 
 afraid to administer it again so soon, lest it should 
 promote any tendency to fever; against which 
 they must above all things be on their guard. She 
 at once submitted to a privation, which most 
 likely the critical nature of the case required ; but 
 the consequence was another restless, and most 
 distressed night. — And now the keeping of the 
 
124 
 
 fractured limb in one position became extremely 
 afflicting. " Gentlemen," she said to the medical 
 attendants, " could you turn my leg to the other 
 side ?" — They were obliged to confess, they durst 
 not venture, as the bone might be put out of its 
 place. She did not repeat the question that night, 
 although her aggravated sufferings were very 
 great. 
 
 Next day, Mrs. Ewing had the comfort of re- 
 ceiving a visit from her brother. Sir John Max- 
 well told me he had called on Dr. Anderson with 
 a view to bring him in his carriage for a second 
 visit. The Dr. could not come, but promised to 
 be with us next day ; and I was willing to hope, 
 that his delaying for a day was a good sign, as it 
 showed he was under no immediate alarm. Beingr 
 under the application of leeches, when Sir John 
 arrived, I could not attend him to Mrs. Swing's 
 room, nor return to her, till some time after he 
 left us. At parting I ventured to say, I hoped we 
 should all be better, when we next met. But 
 when I looked after him, through the window, as 
 he walked slowly away, my heart was struck 
 through, as with a dart, by the appalling thought, 
 *' Perhaps, my dear Sir, you have got the last look, 
 of your beloved sister !" 
 
 When I got back to Mrs. Ewing's room, I found 
 her fast asleep; and, being fatigued by the leeches, 
 I lay down on my bed, which was in the same room. 
 
125 
 
 and soon fell asleep also; we had each, I after- 
 wards learned, above an hour's sleep ; and I be- 
 lieve she had no such period of undisturbed repose 
 during the whole remaining part of her sufferings. 
 When she had got what was called her dinner, 
 which consisted of a roasted apple, she spoke to 
 me, with much satisfaction, of her brother's visit ; 
 particularly mentioning the proofs he had given of 
 considerate affection and care. She then asked 
 me to repeat to her a few portions of Scripture, 
 and to pray. — I felt, as if I could almost entertain 
 the hope, of some approaching perceptible mitiga- 
 tion of trouble. 
 
 But the night was again a night of extreme 
 distress ; no rest ; very great pain in the leg, and 
 a most violent affection of internal pain in the 
 body. The black drop was given, but it entirely 
 failed to give any relief. — I used to think, that the 
 most deplorable sufferings conceivable were im- 
 plied in the language of Job vii. 4. " I am full of 
 tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day." 
 But I now saw, that to be so fixed, as to be pre- 
 vented from " tossings," was a most grievous addi- 
 tion. — Only once more, however, did she put to 
 her medical attendants the hopeless question. But 
 she did it, in such a manner, and with such a 
 limitation of request, as has made an indelible im- 
 pression on my mind. " Could you turn my leg 
 for one minute ?" They declared they were very 
 
126 
 
 sorry, but durst not attempt to comply. She uttered 
 not a syllable of complaint, or lamentation, and 
 never mentioned the subject again. 
 
 On Saturday morning, Dr. Anderson arrived, 
 according to promise. To use his own expression, 
 he found his patient " not getting better," and he, 
 and the Lanark surgeons, all evidently uneasy, 
 united in requesting more assistance. I begged 
 they would name any they chose from any quarter. 
 After a little consideration, an express was, with 
 their unanimous approbation, despatched to Glas- 
 gow for Dr. John Macarthur, who had attended 
 her, on all occasions, from her youth, and enjoyed 
 her highest confidence for skill and experience. 
 She would not allow his being sent for at first to 
 so great a distance, when she considered that the 
 greater part of the journey must be in the night 
 time ; as she knew he had not been well ; but we 
 were sure she would be gratified by a visit from 
 him now, that his arrival could take place in the 
 course of the day. — My fears were now excited to 
 the uttermost. Alas ! there was the imminent 
 danger of a fatal result ; and there was the proba- 
 bility of a painful, and now almost hopeless, pre- 
 vious operation. I supposed that a proposal would 
 be made, to amputate the limb, as the only remain- 
 ing resource. This I had dreaded from the begin- 
 ning, and had it been advised, I could not have 
 opposed it. I determined, however, if they should 
 
127 
 
 propose it, to ask if they could say, that they 
 thought there was a reasonable hope of success ; 
 if they could, I should then submit it to her own 
 consideration, assured that she would give an 
 answer worthy of herself. With this purpose I 
 endeavoured to compose my agitated mind, during 
 that awful day of suspense and terror. All I said 
 in the meantime, to the surgeons on the spot, was, 
 that whatever should be done, I must be allowed 
 to be present. Though from the disabled state of 
 my left arm, I could render no actual service, I 
 believed she would feel my being with her as some 
 mitigation of the bitterness of her cup ; and after 
 being present at the setting of the bone, I thought 
 I could stand any thing. I now clung to her 
 more closely than ever. Besides the melancholy 
 satisfaction, in other respects, the desire of saving 
 her feelings gave me, while in her room, a degree 
 of composure, of which I was quite incapable any 
 where else. 
 
 Although very much exhausted, it was wonder- 
 ful with what tranquillity she passed the day. The 
 unfavourable symptoms rather abated, and we all 
 hoped she was better. At one time, when we were 
 left alone, she said to me, " Repeat some passages 
 of Scripture." I began with Psal. Ixi. 2. " When 
 my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the Rock 
 that is higher than I." In a little, she said, " Give 
 me some passages from the Romans." I repeated 
 
128 
 
 Rom. viii. 18. " For I reckon that the sufFerinffs 
 of this present time are not wortliy to be compared 
 with the glory which shall be revealed in us." 
 " Repeat, rather," said she, "from the 3d chapter, 
 the way of a sinner's justification before God." 
 I answered, from verse 19 to 26 inclusive, " Now 
 we know, that what things soever the law saith, it 
 saith to them who are under the law; that every 
 mouth may be stopped, and all the world may be- 
 come guilty before God. Therefore by the deeds 
 of the law there shall no flesh be justified in his 
 sight : for by the law is the knowledge of sin. But 
 now the righteousness of God without the law is 
 manifested, being witnessed by the law and the 
 prophets ; even the righteousness of God, which is 
 by faith of Jesus Christ unto all and upon all them 
 that believe ; for there is no difference : for all have 
 sinned, and come short of the glory of God : being 
 justified freely by his grace, through the redemp- 
 tion that is in Christ Jesus ; whom God hath set 
 forth to be a propitiation through faith in his blood, 
 to declare his righteousness for the remission of 
 sins that are past, through the forbearance of God ; 
 to declare, / say, at this time his righteousness ; 
 that he might be just, and the justifier of him which 
 believeth in Jesus." What I understood by her 
 recurring to this portion of Scripture was, that her 
 comfort in trouble rose, not from the recollection 
 of former faith, and piety, and usefulness, but 
 
129 
 
 solely from the righteousness of the Lord Jesus 
 Christ, as the divinely appointed, accepted, and 
 revealed ground of a sinner's Hope in drawing 
 near to God ; given to all them that believe (for 
 there is no difference), and equally worthy of God, 
 and suited to our need from first to last. — She was 
 now satisfied ; and I did not attempt to fatigue 
 her attention any further at the time. 
 
 Her sufferings were, indeed, so severe and inces- 
 sant, and it was so important to avoid increasing 
 her agitation, that I abstained from almost every 
 thing like conversation with her. I never ventured 
 to allude to the fatal event; never, to ask if she 
 could tell how her fracture happened; and this 
 must account for my ignorance of many things, 
 which, had it pleased God to spare her, I should 
 have been eager to learn from her own lips. About 
 her spiritual welfare, I had no anxiety ; and all 
 other subjects, I was willing to postpone. The 
 only reference I remember her making to the 
 calamity, was in these words : " I observed your 
 agitation, when you saw what had happened to 
 me ; but I made allowance for you, as I was very 
 sensible I should have been equally agitated, had 
 I escaped, and the thing had befallen you." 
 
 Dr. Macarthur arrived from Glasgow in the 
 evening. After visiting his patient, and consult- 
 ing with the other medical gentlemen, he sent for 
 me, and said, " He understood I was apprehensive 
 
130 
 
 there must be an operation ; there would be no 
 operation ; indeed there could be none ; the only- 
 thing to be attempted was, to bring on suppura- 
 tion, without which there could be no cure; that 
 they had agreed, therefore, to use fomentation, 
 and then to apply bladders of warm water, the 
 object of which was to prolong the effect of the 
 fomentation." The proposal was accordingly car- 
 ried into eifect. None of the medical gentlemen 
 left us before midnight. Some one of them stayed 
 the whole of every night : this night Dr. Anderson 
 stayed. It was Mrs. Ewing's last, and certainly 
 her worst night. The warm application was, I 
 believe, the only remaining expedient; but it 
 aggravated every formerly mentioned distressing 
 symptom. She could not rest for a single moment ; 
 and such was the internal pain, that even the frac- 
 tured leg was no longer mentioned. It was a 
 severe struggle, but a murmur never escaped her, 
 she was never absorbed in her own sufferings ; she 
 was composed, and resigned, and most tenderly 
 mindful of all who were with her. As I was inca- 
 pable of affording assistance, and a good deal 
 exhausted, I lay down in bed. What sleep I got, 
 I cannot tell; but I lay as still as I could, and I 
 was told, that even in her greatest distress, she 
 would draw aside the curtain, and look across the 
 room, to see how I was lying ! 
 
 Dr. Macarthur told me afterwards, that when 
 
131 
 
 he arrived on the Saturday evening, her pulse was 
 not above 90 ; but that, in the course of the three 
 hours of his remaining with her, before going to 
 bed, it changed remarkably to the worse. Dr. 
 Anderson observed the leg to be a little blackened 
 in the course of the night; and next morning, 
 mortification was decidedly and rapidly advancing. 
 In the early part of the morning, however, her 
 sufferings were for a time, to appearance, some- 
 what abated, as is usual, I believe, in such cases. 
 On getting up, I found her very weak, but lying, 
 as if she was easier. When asked, however, how 
 she was, she said she was not better. I got no 
 report of the state of her leg, till the medical 
 gentlemen met to examine it, which was, I think, 
 about ten o'clock. After conversing with Dr. 
 Anderson, they all came into her room together. 
 They looked at the leg. Mr. Gibson said, " We 
 will not trouble Mrs. Ewing with much dressing 
 this morning." In a minute or two, they retired. 
 Whether it was from their manner, or from her 
 own feelings, or partly from both, I know not ; 
 but as soon as they had left the room, and she 
 and I were alone, she turned to me, and said, 
 " My dear, I am quite sensible, that I am in a 
 very critical state." My answer was, " I hope, 
 my dear, that God is with you." She understood 
 me in a moment ; and Dr. Anderson having come 
 back to the room, she said to him, " Doctor, am 
 
132 
 
 not I in a very critical state ?" He replied, " In- 
 deed, Ma'am, it would be wrong to flatter you : 
 we have no hope." 
 
 The example of fortitude, which follows, is the 
 more remarkable, that never till now, had she 
 expressed, or seemed to entertain, any apprehen- 
 sion of a fatal result. Her acute sufferings, being 
 accounted for by the very bad fracture, did not 
 alarm her. With a severe and tedious illness she 
 certainly laid her account, but not with death. 
 On the preceding day, she had planned one of her 
 servants, who had been sent for, going back to 
 Glasgow, in the following week, to bring a supply 
 of various articles she thought she should want. 
 On that same morning, she said to Miss Cathcart, 
 of the servant attending her, and who would not 
 leave her when she saw her so ill, " She has been 
 out of bed two nights following; that must not 
 happen again." The announcement, therefore, of 
 a certain and speedy dissolution was as unexpected, 
 as it was solemn. She evidently felt its solemnity; 
 but showed no symptoms of alarm, confusion, or 
 reluctance. Her immediate effort was, to improve 
 the short time, that might remain, for the benefit 
 of others. With this view, she assembled all the 
 family, that could come, round her bed, that, as 
 appeared from what she said, she might express 
 her dying faith and hope ; her love to Christ, and 
 to his people, and to his cause, through all the 
 
133 
 
 world ; her desire for the salvation of her relatives 
 and friends, whether present or absent; her sym- 
 pathy with those whom she was about to leave, in 
 a state of bereavement and solitude ; her sense of 
 the care and skill, although unavailing, of the 
 medical attendants, and her desire to do them 
 spiritual good in return ; her gratitude to the 
 servants who had waited on her, especially to her 
 own servants, whose affection she had long pos- 
 sessed, and in whose serious Christianity she had, 
 for some time, felt particular satisfaction. — She 
 also remarked, with wonderful accuracy and com- 
 posure, the symptoms of approaching death ; and 
 while she spoke chiefly of the things of God, and 
 the concerns of the soul ; she settled some worldly 
 matters, and expressed her wishes as to her burial, 
 which prevented perplexity, and afforded a melan- 
 choly satisfaction, to surviving friends. She ad- 
 verted to such a number and variety of subjects, 
 and spoke upon each of them with such clearness 
 and propriety, that one might have thought she 
 had prepared for the occasion the very language 
 she was enabled to employ ; while it was perfectly 
 evident that she had no previous warning, and 
 that she was urged to despatch, by feelings, every 
 moment increasing, which indicated the immediate 
 approach of death. 
 
 She desired me to inform Mrs. Cathcart of her 
 situation, and to say, she wished to see her, adding. 
 
134 
 
 " tell her she must come soon.'* Miss M h 
 
 had come the day before, but we had not brought 
 her into Mrs. Ewing's room, lest it should agitate 
 her to see one, of whose coming she was not aware. 
 
 I knew that Miss M h would wish to come in 
 
 now; yet did not like to run the risk of surprising 
 Mrs. Ewing with her unexpected appearance. I 
 was, therefore, obliged to mention her having 
 arrived the preceding day, and to propose her 
 being brought in with the rest. " I cannot speak 
 to any one particularly," said she, " but I love all, 
 who love our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity." 
 
 When Miss M h came in with Mrs. and Miss 
 
 Cathcart, Mrs. Ewing pressed her hand most 
 affectionately, taking it in both hers, but did not 
 speak to her ; finding it necessary, I suppose, to 
 save her strength for what she wished to say to 
 others, or to the whole at once. 
 
 I am quite unable to do justice to the scene, 
 which I could have wished to have given most 
 accurately and completely. The following are 
 some of her expressions: — " I have no elevations, 
 but I look for the mercy of the Lord Jesus Christ, 
 unto eternal life." — " What a mercy is it, that 
 salvation is the work of Christ ; that He hath 
 finished it ; and that we are called, not to attempt 
 that work for ourselves, but to believe in him !" 
 
 Her first thoughts were directed to her absent 
 nearest relatives. — " Tell my dear brother, and his 
 
135 
 
 dear wife, and dear children, that I hope my death 
 will be the means of their obtaining eternal life, 
 which can only be obtained from the mercy of 
 God through Jesus Christ. — Say this to every one 
 of them." Then, as if unwilling there should be 
 any delay, she added, " you had better write it to 
 them." 
 
 To Mrs. Cathcart she spoke with much affection 
 and solemnity, but being at the other side of the 
 bed, I could not hear it all, and cannot remember 
 all that I did hear. — " You may be sure, you have 
 not been brought so far, and to suffer so much, 
 and to witness such a scene, for nothing." — " You 
 cannot, nor can any one conceive, how precious 
 Christ is to me at this moment." Mr. Cathcart 
 could not be present, as he was still confined to 
 bed. She, therefore, sent an affectionate message 
 to him. Referring to his having supposed himself 
 to be the occasion of the fatal excursion, (which 
 she knew was not the case,) and calling him, as 
 usual, by his first name, " Tell dear Taylor, 
 that a sparrow falleth not without our heavenly 
 Father, and that the very hairs of our head are all 
 numbered." 
 
 Turning to me, she also sent the following 
 motherly affectionate message to my daughter: 
 " Tell dear Jessy, how much satisfaction I have 
 had, in the evidence I have seen of the grace of 
 God in her; how much I have rejoiced in her 
 
usefulness, and in that of her dear husband ; and 
 how much I love them, and their dear children ; 
 and tell them, I hope to meet them, and their chil- 
 dren, both young and old," (alluding to Catherine 
 who had died a few months before, in infancy,) 
 " in the heavenly world." 
 
 She thanked her medical attendants for their 
 exertions in her behalf; saying, " may God reward 
 you in blessings to your souls, for the kindness 
 you have shown to my body." To her old friend 
 Dr. Macarthur, she said " I hope you will not be 
 the worse for coming up here ; you have always 
 possessed much of my esteem." 
 
 She also thanked some very worthy persons of 
 the place, who had attended as nurses, for their 
 care and tenderness ; hoping that God would bless 
 to their souls, the example they had in her of the 
 shortness and uncertainty of human life ; and 
 would impress them with the conviction that one 
 thing is needful, and lead them to choose the good 
 part that should not be taken away, or if they had 
 done so, to prize more and more the precious 
 Saviour. 
 
 To two of her servants, who had been sent for, 
 to assist in giving attendance, she said, " My 
 faithful girls, I thank you for all the love you 
 have shown me, and all the care you have taken 
 of me; I rejoice in what I have seen of the grace 
 of God in you, and I hope you will be enabled to 
 
137 
 
 persevere, and especially in your zealous endeav- 
 ours to bring others to Christ." Then, turning 
 to me, she added, naming other two at home, 
 " charge them, that they meet me as disciples of 
 Christ, before the judgment-seat." 
 
 Mrs. Cathcart was so ill, and had been so agi- 
 tated, when Mrs. Ewing was speaking to her, that 
 she had to leave the room immediately after, and 
 Miss Cathcart was obliged to go with her, and to 
 remain some little time. I did not observe when 
 she returned, and cannot tell precisely the occa- 
 sion of what I am going to state. But Miss 
 Cathcart, looking earnestly at Mrs. Ewing, was 
 led to say, " O that my soul were in that soul's 
 place." Mrs. Ewing promptly reminded her, that 
 Jesus Christ was the Saviour of the chief of sin- 
 ners, equally free to all, and the only ground of 
 a sinner's acceptance and hope. 
 
 In taking leave of me, she said, " We have been 
 very happy together ; we have lived in love and 
 harmony ; and it is pleasant, that, at parting, there 
 is nothing to settle between us." 1 said, I hoped 
 the Lord would pardon my sins against her. She 
 answered, " I hope the Lord will pardon my sins 
 against you. — I have been a happy wife ; but my 
 greatest happiness has been sitting under your 
 ministry." She then said, she had been exceed- 
 ingly happy in the Christian fellowship she had 
 enjoyed ; in the love of the church at all times, 
 
138 
 
 but particularly in various additions of a very in- 
 teresting nature, especially from among the chil- 
 dren of old church members, which the Lord had 
 made to it, that very year, of which we had often 
 before spoken, and which she now remembered 
 with pleasure. — She gave thanks to God, (as in- 
 deed she had done while yet on the spot,) that in 
 the overturn of the carriage, the mortal injury had 
 happened to her, and not to me. — She added, " I 
 hope you will be enabled to continue your labours 
 in preaching the gospel." Here she raised her 
 voice, and spoke with an animation and energy, 
 which I hope I shall never cease to feel. " Never 
 relinquish your public ministry, while you have 
 strength. Christ is a Saviour who can save to the 
 uttermost. He has plucked me as a brand out of 
 the burning. If I had ten thousand tongues, and 
 the strength of angels, I would tell of the love of 
 God, through Jesus Christ, to dying sinners." 
 
 She next gave directions respecting the disposal 
 of her body. — " Bury me where you are likely to 
 be buried yourself. You know, we spoke of pur- 
 chasing a place in the crypt, under Dr. Mitchell's 
 meeting-house. But you already have a burial 
 place in the West Church-yard in Edinburgh; and 
 the distance is not so far from here, as it would 
 have been had I died in Glasgow. You know we 
 are half way here." Miss Cathcart, recollecting 
 that Mrs. Ewing had expressed a wish, after Mrs. 
 
139 
 
 Stirling's funeral, to be buried beside her, and 
 other dear relatives of her own family, said, " I 
 am sure you would be made welcome to be buried 
 in the Polloc burial place, if you desired it." 
 With much earnestness, she replied, " O ! I would 
 like that." " Well," said I, " I promise you, that 
 I shall ask permission in your name, and, if grant- 
 ed, you shall lie there ; and as for me, I can be, at 
 all events, accommodated with a place in the same 
 burial ground." — "I hope we shall be together both 
 at death, and at the resurrection, and dwell 
 together in the house of the Lord for ever." With 
 this promise, she signified her satisfaction, adding, 
 that the matter was of very inferior importance to 
 the concerns of the soul. 
 
 She then said, " Commit my soul to God." This 
 I instantly did in a few petitions; praying that 
 the Lord might not leave her in the valley and 
 shadow of death; — (Here, she was heard to say, 
 " I am not alone, for God is with me," — ) that 
 she might have a short and easy passage to the 
 heavenly glory ; and that the Lord Jesus might 
 receive her spirit ! 
 
 Throughout the whole of this closing scene, she 
 showed the most accurate attention to things of a 
 minute nature, as well as to matters of high im- 
 portance. 
 
 Miss Cathcart having become faint, had lain 
 down on the bed at the other side of the room. 
 
140 
 
 Mrs. Ewing observed her, and said, " Jane Cath- 
 cart, come here to me, I want to speak to you now 
 of a worldly matter." When Miss Cathcart came, 
 she said ; " You will find in my book at home, six 
 pound-two, which 1 had not time to mark in it 
 before I came away. It is money collected for 
 the sale of ladies' work, for the support of the 
 preaching of the gospel in the Highlands."* 
 
 She had remarked, that the pulsation had left 
 her wrists. Some time after, expressing a wish to 
 have the position of her pillow changed, I let go 
 her hand to give place to an attendant, as my 
 left arm was not able to assist in moving her. On 
 returning, and taking her hand again, I slipped 
 my fore-finger towards the wrist to feel if the 
 pulse was really gone ; never imagining that she 
 would observe it. But she instantly said, " You 
 need not do that. I told you the pulsation had 
 left my wrists ; and now it is leaving my heart." 
 Then, looking to Dr. Anderson, she said, " Doc- 
 tor, is the struggle ever long, after the pulse has 
 ceased in this manner ?" — " It depends," said he, 
 " on the strength of the constitution." — The ques- 
 tion was put, and the answer received, with as 
 perfect composure, as if some third person had 
 been the subject of the inquiry. — On hearing the 
 question, however, I thought she was apprehensive 
 of a long, and perhaps severe struggle ; and I was 
 
 See p. 79, 
 
141 
 
 led to pray, in my heart, that if it were the Lord's 
 will, it might neither be long nor severe. If the 
 prayer was called for by the occasion, it certainly 
 was answered ; for she was not detained many 
 minutes longer, and she could hardly be said to 
 have any struggle at all. — On reflection, I have 
 thought since, that she asked the question, not 
 from any apprehension, but merely from a wish to 
 know what time might probably remain to her. 
 Very soon, indeed, she seemed to feel satisfied, as 
 one who had got an opportunity of saying all that 
 she wished to say. Accordingly, her last notice of 
 me, was an address of private personal affection. 
 With a look and manner as if she would have 
 smiled at parting, she sweetly said, " I can still see 
 your kind sympathising look." — Faithful, loving 
 companion, it was the last thing, thou didst at- 
 tempt to see ! 
 
 In a few moments, she added, " Raise me up." 
 When her request was complied with, she closed 
 her own eyes ; reclined her head on the friend who 
 supported her ; breathed a little stronger, as one 
 going to sleep ; the respirations became gradually 
 slower, but they were not laborious ; there was not 
 a distorted feature, nor an agitated limb ; it seemed 
 as if she had already received her gentle dismission, 
 when there followed two or three breathings more, 
 — and all was over ! 
 
 I cannot withhold these few and scattered frag- 
 
14S 
 
 ments ; though conscious they convey no adequate 
 idea of a scene, from first to last, of inexpressible 
 interest. It is usually said, that forgetfulness is 
 the consequence of inattention. It may be so, in 
 the task of committing to memory, what we little 
 care for. But it is not so, at least not always so, 
 in religious exercises ; nor perhaps in any cases of 
 extraordinary excitement. I have learned by 
 experience, that a man may be engaged most 
 intensely; and yet, — nay, for that very reason — 
 may fail to remember. No wonder, the Prophets 
 required a restoring, guiding inspiration, to enable 
 them to give to others, especially to put upon 
 authentic record, a full and faithful account of 
 the lively oracles of God which they had themselves 
 previously heard, accompanied by heavenly visions 
 which they had themselves seen. Like an awfully 
 sublime heavenly vision, my beloved wife's depart- 
 ure came upon me suddenly ; it absorbed me com- 
 pletely till the last moment ; and when I found 
 myself left alone, the glory had passed away and 
 I could not recall it. I heard many words, which 
 I cannot repeat. Of any thing I said myself, I 
 can give almost no account. I suppose, I some- 
 times spoke, " not knowing what I said." And, 
 then, as to her ; the looks, the accents, the whole 
 manner, of the ascending saint, should be given, 
 as well as the language ! 
 
 I dare not enlarge. But lest the reader should 
 
143 
 
 be tempted to attribute my asseverations, rather 
 to my own ecstacy, than to any facts I had to 
 narrate, I shall add the testimony of one of the 
 medical gentlemen present, well qualified from 
 long practice to form a judicious opinion. He had 
 given it, in a letter anouncing the event, without 
 any view to publication. I saw it quoted in 
 another letter, and I hope he will excuse the 
 liberty I now take in quoting it again. " I have 
 seen many people die, but I never saw one die in 
 so much confidence, and with so much serenity. 
 She was perfectly sensible till within two minutes 
 of her death, and as long as she could speak, con- 
 tinued to pray for herself, and all her friends, in 
 language as correct, as she could have done, in 
 her highest state of health." 
 
 Mrs. Ewing died at noon of the Lord's day, 
 
 September 14th, 1828, aged 55. 
 
 Lines suggested by the death of Mrs. Ewing. 
 
 [These Lines were written by a loving and much-loved cousin, 
 now abroad, but who had, for several years, lived in the fanaily. 
 Providence brought her seasonably back for a while, to weep with 
 the survivors of the sad calamity. She writes as truly one with 
 them ; and when she speaks in the character of the desolate widower, 
 she conveys, in her own pathetic language, the very inmost thoughts 
 of his bleeding heart.] 
 
 Thou askest me why tears suffuse mine eyes, 
 And smiles are banish'd from me ! Art thou then 
 A stranger in this land, and knowest not 
 That she who was our lov'd and prized one, 
 
144 
 
 The key-stone of our friendship's firm-knit arch, — 
 The clasp by which bands numberless were held, — 
 The spring by which all kindly streams were fed, — 
 The prop on which fond hearts too fondly leaned, 
 Is gone, and hath not left her like behind ! 
 
 Thou knewest not ! Well, then, come lend thine 
 ear. 
 And I will try to portraiture her worth ! 
 But like all portraits, 'twill be cold and tame ; 
 The flesh and blood, the spirit-stirring glance, 
 The varying smile, the mantling cheek, defy 
 The painter's mimic power ; and ah ! much more 
 The soul's most delicate, enchanting traits, 
 Dwell in their native beauty and true force 
 Only in fond affection's secret cell ! 
 Yet I will try, for as thou knewest her not, 
 The sketch may not seem worthless in thine eyes. 
 
 Of manners gentle, but of soul sincere, 
 And firm of purpose, duty found her still 
 Unshrinking at her post ; nor merely there, 
 But with all energy, and every nerve 
 Strained to perform acknowledged duty well. 
 Warm in affection as the cooing dove. 
 And tenderly alive when aught of ill 
 Assailed the object of her care and love, 
 She was a heroine in its highest sense ; 
 For pain and sickness borne without a groan, 
 And self in every case, contemned, forgot, 
 Witness'd her high-toned soul ; while day by day 
 Her heart, her hands, her active powerful mind, 
 Throbbed, thought^ and toiled, for all within her sphere. 
 
145 
 
 But first ill duty as in love stood he 
 Who was her husband I Oh ! that word he was ! 
 What desolation speaks it to the soul ! 
 It tells of hourly tenderness gone by, — 
 Of matchless excellencies seen no more, — 
 Of happy hours for ever, ever fled, — 
 Of weary, solitary days to come ! 
 Tells it nought else ? Oh ! yes, my coward heart, 
 Think on her life in deeds of mercy spent, 
 Think on the years of faith and patient hope, 
 Think on the many souls to Jesus won, 
 The unwearied zeal, the countless plans of good, 
 Proposed, matured, and set in full career ; 
 Think above all on her triumphant death, 
 When with a martyr's patience, mid almost 
 A martyr's sufferings, she displayed to all, 
 Religion's power to unsting death, and pour 
 A deathless glory round a dying bed. 
 
 That smile, that thrilling smile ! I see it still, 
 By which, with a most tender guile, she strove 
 To hide from me the torture she endured ! 
 I hear her dying charge, it cheers me on, 
 " Preach, preach," she cried, " the word of saving truth 
 Preach Christ, how precious to the parting soul !" 
 And tho' her pulses had forgot to beat, 
 Tho' life was quitting its last post, — her heart. 
 With truth's own eloquence she warned, she pled 
 To win, or to confirm, in Jesus' ways. 
 Then, the last look her breaking eyes could give 
 Was bent on me, her latest look of love. 
 
146 
 
 Say, then, if 'tis not a soul-soothing thought, 
 I was her husband ! but more soothing still, 
 A little moment, and we meet again ! — 
 A little moment ! and I join her side, 
 To love, to praise, to wonder and adore ! — 
 A little moment ! and my tears are past ; 
 We meet again ! oh, bliss ! to part no more ! 
 
 Sir John Maxwell having, in the handsomest 
 manner, consented to his sister's dying wish as to 
 the place of her burial, she was buried, on Satur- 
 day, the 20th September 1828, at Eastwood, in 
 the PoUoc Vault. 
 
 Extract from a Sermo7i delivered in Eastwood church, 
 on Sabbath 21 st September, upon the occasion of 
 the much lamented death of Mrs, Ewing ; from 
 Phil. i. 21. " For to me to live is Christ, and to 
 die is gain." By the Rev. George Logan, 
 Minister of Eastwood. 
 
 [This honourable testimony, to Mrs. Ewing, is valued as given 
 in the parish church of her native parish, by one who was ac- 
 quainted with her several years, and whom she always esteemed as 
 a brother in Christ, and a faithful minister of the Gospel.] 
 
 '* Most of you will perceive that we have been led 
 to the subject, upon which we have this day been 
 addressing you, by the much lamented death of 
 an excellent Christian Lady, wife of an eminent 
 minister in the neighbouring city, and nearly re- 
 lated to an honourable family in this parish. Her 
 
U7 
 
 death was occasioned by one of those events, which 
 we are wont to call accidents, all of which, how- 
 ever, are under the direction and control of a holy, 
 wise, and gracious Providence. She went out in 
 health, accompanied by a few friends, and in cir- 
 cumstances from which no danger could before- 
 hand be apprehended, but ere she returned, she 
 met with a fracture, which in the course of a very 
 few days terminated in the dissolution of the earthly 
 tabernacle. Let us not say, where, in such a case, 
 was the Ruler of the Universe ? why did he not 
 interpose for the preservation of his servant. The 
 Lord is in the heavens; He doth whatsoever pleas- 
 eth him ; He giveth not account of any of his 
 matters. It was his will, that she, in this way, 
 should finish her earthly course, and enter into 
 the joy of her Lord; and it is the duty of all con- 
 cerned to acquiesce in the Divine appointment, 
 and to say. The will of the Lord be done. 
 
 " I feel myself unable to give any thing like a 
 just description of her character. Called in her 
 youth to the knowledge and belief of the truth, as it 
 is in Jesus, she felt its power, and lived habitually 
 under its influence. Though born and educated 
 in what is called high life, she renounced, without 
 becoming peevish and morose, the pomp and vani- 
 ties of the world, and was, in all respects, a devout, 
 active, and exemplary Christian. She endeavoured 
 by every mean in her power to do good. She 
 
148 
 
 was unwearied in her attention to the poor, espe- 
 cially of her own sex, supplying their wants, im- 
 parting to them, by books, and otherwise, religious 
 instruction, and, in every possible way, ministering 
 to their comfort. She rejoiced in the prosperity 
 of Bible and Missionary Societies, and of every 
 Association that tended to enlarge the boundaries 
 of the Redeemei^'s kingdom, and advance the inter- 
 ests of true and undefiled religion, whether at 
 home or abroad : and laboured to promote their 
 success by her contributions, by her personal exer- 
 tions, and, I doubt not, by her frequent and fer- 
 vent prayers. Though attached, from principle, 
 to her own particular denomination, she was by no 
 means of a narrow contracted spirit, but entertained 
 a good opinion of all, who, she apprehended, had 
 received Christ Jesus the Lord, and were studious 
 of walking in him. I have not learned the par- 
 ticulars of what passed, when she was laid upon 
 the bed of affliction, and had death in imme- 
 diate prospect: only, in general, that the whole 
 scene was very edifying, that she was then entirely 
 resigned to the Divine will, and rejoiced in the 
 hope of the glory of God. It may be truly said 
 of her that for her to live was Christ, and we have 
 no reason to entertain the smallest doubt, that 
 death hath been to her exceeding great and eter- 
 nal gain. Now she hath joined the general Assem- 
 bly and Church of the first-born in heaven, and 
 
149 
 
 hath attained to a perfection of knowledge, holi- 
 ness, and happiness, of which we can form at pre- 
 sent no adequate conception. And could she hold 
 any communication with us below, we might sup- 
 pose her to address her many weeping friends in 
 the words of our Lord to his disciples previous to 
 his departure, ' If ye loved me, ye would rejoice 
 because I have gone to the Father. Blessed truly 
 are the dead, who die in the Lord. They rest 
 from their labours and their works do follow them.' 
 Let us be followers of them, who through faith 
 and patience now inherit the promises, and not 
 flatter ourselves with the hope of dying the death 
 of the righteous, unless we be found walking in 
 the way of faith and holiness." 
 
 Extract from a Sermon, preached in Nile Street 
 Chapeli Glasgow, in the afternoon of Lord's day, 
 Sept. 2\st, 1828; on occasion of the lamented 
 death of Mi^s. Greville Ewbig, hy Ralph Ward- 
 law, D,D,from 1 Cor. xv. 28. " Christ the first- 
 fruits ; afterward they that are Christ's at his 
 
 [Although the next testimony has ah'eady been extensively pub- 
 lished, this Memoir would be very deficient, indeed, were a docu- 
 ment of so much excellence not to appear again, along with others in 
 its proper connexion and order. It is well known to be the testi- 
 mony of the mourning survivor's nearest brother in the ministry 
 given from long acquaintance, and friendship, and in that style of 
 appropriate elegance, and affectionate sympathy, which are charac- 
 
150 
 
 teristic of the excellent author, and which were never more highly- 
 appreciated than on this occasion.] 
 
 " You have already anticipated me in the first 
 and most immediate improvement of this subject, — 
 a subject in itself so full of interest — What rich 
 and substantial consolation it yields us under the 
 loss, by death, of Christian friends ! — And who is 
 there amongst us, that may not truly say this after- 
 noon, / have lost a friend f There are some, who 
 from intimacy of connexion, and acquaintance 
 with character, and experience of kindness, will 
 utter the sentiment with a deeper emotion than 
 others ; but she whose sudden and unexpected 
 departure, we are, with one heart, uniting to de- 
 plore, was eminently the friend of all. — But when 
 Christians speak of losing such a friend, let them 
 think what they mean, and beware of forgetting 
 their spiritual relations and their blessed hopes. 
 Those who fall asleep in Jesus are not lost to those 
 who survive them. They are only parted from 
 them for a time, to meet again, — and to meet at 
 home. They are no more lost, than a dear friend 
 is lost who goes home before us, after we have 
 sojourned for a while at a distance, and whom we 
 are soon to follow, and know where to find. — But 
 to our society, our counsels, our plans, and our 
 labours here below, they are lost: and the loss 
 will be deeply and lastingly felt, in proportion to 
 the greatness and variety of the excellencies by 
 
151 
 
 which, in life, they were distinguished and en- 
 deared. 
 
 " I am well aware, that in thus publicly speak- 
 ing of our departed friend, I am doing what might 
 expose me to her own censure : — ' Speak not of 
 me^ she would say ; ' speak of Christ.' — My only 
 vindication is, that, in speaking of the excellencies 
 which the grace of Christ produced, I am speaking 
 of Christ. I am honouring that grace. I am re- 
 commending his gospel, in the faith of which they 
 had their origin, their stability, and their growth, 
 — Of whatever principle of goodness there was in 
 her character, and of whatever she was enabled to 
 do for the glory of her Saviour, and for the benefit, 
 temporal or spiritual, of her fellow creatures, she 
 herself would have said, in the humble spirit of 
 self-renunciation, — * Yet not I, but the grace of 
 God which was with me.' 
 
 " The faith of ' the glorious gospel of the grace 
 of God,' — of free and sovereign mercy to sinners 
 through the merits and intercession of the divine 
 Mediator, was deeply settled in her spiritually 
 enlightened understanding, and had a strong and 
 stedfast hold of the affections of her heart. It was 
 the animating impulse and ruling principle of her 
 whole conduct. It wrought by love. It over- 
 came the world, both in its intimidations and in 
 its allurements ; inducing her, not with reluctant 
 submission, but with cheerful gratitude, to * deny 
 
152 
 
 herself, and take up the cross, and follow Jesus,* 
 — imitating and serving him, confessing his Name, 
 and seeking his glory, — Her views of evangelical 
 truth were clear, simple, scriptural, — drawn, not 
 from human systems, but from the word of God, — 
 not from cisterns, but from the fountain-head* 
 They were those of an understanding naturally 
 vigorous, under the enlightening influence of the 
 Divine Spirit. — The word and ordinances of God 
 were her delight; and she sought from them, 
 agreeably to the ends for which they v/ere given, 
 the enlargement of spiritual knov/ledge, the con- 
 firmation of spiritual principles, and the sustenance 
 and excitement of spiritual aiFections. Warmly 
 attached, from conscientious conviction, to the 
 particular form of Christian profession which her 
 examination of the sacred volume had led her to 
 embrace, she yet regarded that form, not as an 
 end, but as a means, — an outward institute for an 
 inward spiritual purpose, and its adaptation to that 
 purpose as constituting its divine excellence. 
 
 " Her religion was characterized by a cheerful 
 seriousness, — the cheerfulness as remote from le- 
 vity, as the seriousness from gloom. Few Chris- 
 tians could enjoy with a livelier relish the plea- 
 sures of social intercourse. She entered, with an 
 easy vivacity, into the ordinary topics and daily 
 occurrences of life; but religions conversation was 
 her peculiar delight. On such occasions, her eye 
 
153 
 
 and countenance assumed the most interesting 
 variations of expression, — alternately fixed in deep 
 and thoughtful seriousness, — sparkling with ani- 
 mation, — or lighted up with a smile of benignity, 
 of which no one who has ever seen it can lose the 
 impression. — Her piety was not meditative and 
 contemplative merely ; — it was eminently and ha- 
 bitually practical. It put its consistent influence 
 into every thing. Her eye was single. Guided 
 by one principle, — a simple regard to her Lord's 
 will — her deportment was marked by a beautiful 
 harmony. She was an example of readiness to 
 every good work; and few are the objects of 
 Christian benevolence that will not, directly or 
 indirectly, in a greater or less degree, miss her 
 willing and efficient efforts. — Of her it might with 
 truth be said, — not indeed in the same sense as of 
 the apostle, but in such ways as were consistent 
 with the proprieties of her sex and situation, — that 
 ' there came upon her daily the care of all the 
 churches.' She grieved for their declension, and 
 rejoiced in their prosperity, and * sought their good 
 alway.' — Her interest in the success of the preach- 
 ing of the gospel in the destitute parts of Scotlaml 
 was peculiarly lively ; and it evinced itself in an ex- 
 tensive and constant correspondence for the recep- 
 tion and communication of intelligence, in unwea- 
 ried efforts for procuring the requisite pecuniary 
 means, and in devising and suggesting methods of 
 
154 
 
 more successful exertion and more enlarged useful- 
 ness. The pastors of the churches, in their persons, 
 families, and flocks, v/ere the objects of her inces- 
 santly kind solicitude. Like the Tryphenas and 
 Tryphosas, the Marys and Priscillas of apostolic 
 days, she was emphatically * a succourer of many ;* 
 nor is there a minister in the Union, especially in 
 the poorer and remoter districts, who will not feel 
 that he has lost a friend. But her concern for the 
 success of the gospel was far from being limited 
 and local. In its wishes and prayers, and, as far 
 as ability could reach, in its practical exertions, it 
 embraced not Scotland merely, but the whole 
 world. 
 
 " There are present those of her kindred who 
 would bear me out in an ample and honourable 
 testimony to the tenderness and vigour of her 
 domestic and relative affections ; to the kind and 
 steady consistency with which they were exercised 
 in all the walks of private life ; to her high-toned 
 integrity and freedom from selfishness in whatever 
 regarded her own interests ; and to her generous 
 anxiety rather to make a sacrifice of these, than 
 leave the slightest room for any misunderstanding 
 of her motives, or reflection upon her Christian 
 principles. And there are now hearing me not a 
 few, who would raise their united voices to support 
 me in saying, that her friendships were never 
 friendships of ' word only.' As her benevolence 
 
155 
 
 could in no instance be satisfied with saying, 
 ' Depart in peace, be warmed, be filled,' be clothed, 
 be instructed, be healed;— so was it with her 
 friendships. They were friendships of real heart- 
 felt sympathy with the joys and the sorrows of 
 their objects, — friendships of active, substantia], 
 self-denying kindness, minutely and considerately 
 mindful of every circumstance that might contri- 
 bute to the comfort and enjoyment of those whose 
 good it sought, — setting her wits immediately to 
 work, to devise means of benefit, and to brino- 
 these means to bear on the accomplishment of her 
 end. She helped, where she could; and where 
 she could not help, she counselled, and comforted, 
 and prayed. 
 
 " Her life, in a word, was a happy exemplifica- 
 tion of the practical religion of the Bible :—and 
 as she made no secret of her principles, but ' con- 
 fessed with the mouth' what she « believed in the 
 heart,' her practice was eminently calculated to 
 recommend the religion she professed ; — to give it 
 a testimony in the consciences even of those by 
 whom its principles were never embraced;— to 
 foster every gracious impression in those « whose 
 hearts God had touched,' and win them by its 
 convincing and persuasive influence;— and, where 
 she could not be loved and welcomed on account 
 of her religion, to constrain esteem and admiration 
 in spite of it. 
 
156 
 
 " In such cases, my brethren, the excellencies 
 which make us feel our loss are happily at the 
 same time our consolation under it. They at 
 once wound and heal. They make the disruption 
 of the tie that bound us to our departed friends 
 the more violent and painful ; — yet are they balm 
 to the bleeding heart. We call them to remem- 
 brance, in our gloomiest hours, with a pensive 
 pleasure; and our faithful memories, even while 
 they open the fountains of sorrow, become our 
 most efficient comforters. They give us the most 
 delightfully soothing and strengthening of all as- 
 surances, — the assurance that our friends to whom 
 it was * Christ to live,' have found it ' gain to die' 
 — that having lived to the Lord and died to the 
 Lord, they are gone to be with Him. And, 
 although it is not from the sayings of a deathbed, 
 but from the consistent doings of previous practical 
 godliness, that we derive our confidence respecting 
 the unfeigned faith of our fellow-Christians, and 
 the reality of their interest in the grace of the 
 Saviour, yet is it no inconsiderable ground of con- 
 gratulation and thankfulness, when a godly life is 
 closed with a dying testimony. 
 
 " To all our comforts, on the present occasion, 
 this has been mercifully superadded. — From the 
 moment of the melancholy catastrophe to the mo- 
 ment when she drew her last breath, the mind of our 
 dear departed friend enjoyed the most undisturbed 
 
157 
 
 serenity. All was satisfaction and peace. There 
 never was a whisper of complaint, — never the 
 breathing of a wish that any one circumstance had 
 been otherwise than the Providence of her heav- 
 enly Father had ordered it. — When sensible that 
 her case was critical, and that her end drew near, 
 she addressed words of appropriate consolation 
 and counsel to the friends and domestics that were 
 upon the spot, and gave in commission special 
 messages, full of faithful affection, and all bearing 
 on their best interests, to be delivered to others. 
 With the most perfect collectedness of mind, anti- 
 cipating her speedy removal, and anxious to omit 
 nothing which it was right for her to say or to do, 
 she gave directions, regarding herself, regarding 
 those surviving friends whose welfare and whose 
 usefulness were so dear to her heart, and regarding 
 objects of benevolence, about which her interest 
 remained with her to the last. Fortitude and 
 resignation in suffering had characterized her 
 through life ; and they were displayed, with singu- 
 lar constanc}^, from the beginning to the close of 
 its last distressing scene. She watched her own 
 ebbing pulse, ^ — marking when it left her arm, and 
 when it ceased at her heart: — and so perfectly 
 peaceful was her departure, that it could not be 
 known, by those who were silently awaiting it, 
 which was her parting breath.'* 
 
158 
 
 TVritte?} on Monday, September 22d, when Lady 
 Maxwell visited Mrs, Ewing's Grave in Eastwood 
 Church Yard, 
 
 [These lines were read by Lady Maxwell with many tears, after 
 her return from the grave ; and they were then transmitted by her 
 to the widower, to whom they had been kindly dedicated by the 
 author, with the expression of a hope that they would please him. — 
 They do indeed please him, both for their own merits as a beloved 
 niece's effusion of moui'nful and affectionate regard for the memory 
 of a beloved aunt ; and also for the opportunity they afford him, 
 and of which he eagerly avails himself, to acknowledge, that this 
 is one of very many gratifying and substantial proofs of kind atten- 
 tion and friendly regard, which he has long received from the whole 
 of that loved and honoured family ; and never more than since the 
 blow came, which might have been supposed to have broke the con- 
 nexion.] 
 
 \ Here rests with her fathers, all calmly reposing, 
 As fervent a Christian as ever had breath, 
 Who parted so gently with life at its closing, 
 It seem'd to be only the semblance of death. 
 
 No hero in ancient, or modern story, 
 No warrior panting for honour and fame, 
 No scholar who dreaded to tarnish his glory, 
 Ere yielded up life with a steadier frame. 
 
 The arrow was sped ! and the spark was extinguished 
 In triumphs of joy — through the faith she possess'd ; 
 And those she most lov'd, in a moment relinquished, 
 With pray'rs that they all might be found with the blest. 
 
159 
 
 No sculpture adorns her ! no epitaph rises ! 
 In classical guise, to emblazon her birth ; 
 The poor and the helpless her memory prizes, 
 The sick and the sorrowful speak of her worth. 
 
 'Twas not an ephemeral kindness that perished, 
 Or owed its existence to effort and toil ; 
 'Twas not an exotic that needs must be cherished, 
 The flow'r was indigenous, sprung from the soil. 
 
 So boundless her love for the whole of creation, 
 She had not a blessing too great to impart, 
 She would have spread knowledge from nation to nation. 
 And told them of Jesus, the hope of her heart. 
 
 For if there was aught that unusually brightened 
 Her radiant eyes, with her happiest smiles, 
 It was when the Christian soldier enlightened. 
 Or planted the standard of Christ in the isles. 
 
 Her song was redemption ! and now she is reaping. 
 The fruits of her faithfulness, ardour, and worth ; 
 Her ashes in peace with her ancestors sleeping. 
 Her spirit with him, whom she worshipp'd on earth I 
 
 A Brief Tribute to the Memory of Mrs, Greville 
 Ewing. 
 
 [These lines were written by Bernard Barton, a member of the 
 Society of Friends, well known for many excellent poetical works, 
 and very kindly contributed by him to be engraven on mourning 
 cards, and presented to the sale of Ladies' Work, at Edinburgh, in 
 
160 
 
 March 1829, for the support of the preaching of the Gospel, in the 
 Highlands and Islands, in which Mrs. Ewing took an interest.] 
 
 " She being dead yet speaketh." 
 
 When sets the sun — his parted splendours fill 
 With glowing brightness all the western sky ; 
 
 When fades the Rose — its ling'ring fragrance still 
 Tells that its sweetest charm can death defy. 
 
 E'en so departed Saint ! should thoughts of thee 
 
 Survive thyself, our sorrows to reprove ; 
 With angel tongue thy witnesses to be 
 
 In every work of Faith, and Hope, and Love. 
 
 Thy hallowed Memory, and thy spotless Name, 
 
 Thy fervent piety, and fearless zeal ; 
 These still should advocate each Christian aim, 
 
 And yet for Charity's blest cause appeal. 
 
 Thus from the Grave, thy voice may now be heard, 
 Pleading, on earth, for Heaven's eternal bliss. 
 
 And human hearts, by thy example stirred. 
 Rejoice to labour in a task like this. 
 
 Bernard Barton. 
 
 Woodbridge, Suffolk, \ 
 1st Month 24th, 1S29. J 
 
161 
 
 A Tribute to the Memory of Mrs. Ewing, also 
 intended for the Sale of Ladies' Work, 
 
 [This is most gratefully acknowledged as the contribution of an 
 unknown friend, a Minister in Suffolk.] 
 
 Say, sister spirit, what celestial band, 
 Came to conduct thee to thy starry land ; 
 And why so soon — and why at such a time 
 Wast thou transported to the heavenly clime. 
 Who could have thought in such a lovely scene 
 The pathway to the grave would intervene ; 
 That where the cascade falls with awful sound, 
 And nature spreads her magic charms around ; 
 That there the harbinger of death would come, 
 And the first step be taken to the tomb. 
 
 Mysterious power that governs man's affairs. 
 Fixes our bounds and measures out our years ; 
 'Tis thine to wither pleasure's cheerful day, 
 'Tis thine to lead thro' sorrow's darksome way. 
 'Tis thine in youth or age to bid us go 
 Thro' death's lone path, and leave this world below. 
 And all thou dost is right ; and all designed 
 To show the wisdom of the eternal mind : 
 And teach thy creatures, while they see the rod. 
 Calmly to bow and know that thou art God. 
 
 Shall we then grieve that we have lost a friend ; 
 Shall we, dear Ewing, mourn thy peaceful end ? 
 Nature must weep, but memory soothes the mind, 
 With all the virtues thou hast left behind ; 
 Thy fair example gladly would we trace ; 
 Thy holy life, thy every modest grace, 
 
162 
 
 Thy ardent zeal to send each Highland clan, 
 Tlie word that heaven reveals to guilty man. 
 Then, sister spirit, we will weep no more, 
 But follow thee till life's short days are o'er, 
 And at the cross in sweet submission bend, 
 Learn of the Saviour ; — imitate the friend ; 
 And wait the hour till we are called to come, 
 And mingle with thee in thy heavenly home ! 
 
 Wrentham, Jan. 28th, 1829. 
 
 Lines on the Death of Mrs. Ewing. 
 
 [These lines are by a young man, who had lived a season as an 
 inmate in the family, of which he was a relation, in order to attend 
 College; who knew Mrs. Swing's manner of life, and had expe- 
 rience of her parental care and kindness.] 
 
 Come, thou scoffer, come, behold 
 
 This our Ewing's closing scene ! 
 Though her heart is waxing cold ; 
 
 Not a gloom can intervene 
 To disturb the heavenly peace 
 Of her spirit near release. 
 
 Hark ! the voice of Death, he comes ! 
 
 Softly sound ye notes of grief ! 
 Its last ray the eye illumes, 
 
 Ray that marks the soul's relief. 
 Now th' immortal mounts the sky, 
 There to dwell with Christ on high. 
 
 Could the gospel, which that hour 
 Soothed her mind, be but a tale ? 
 
163 
 
 Could aught but Almighty power 
 
 So remove Death's dark'ning veil ? 
 Give the peace that she enjoyed ? 
 Breathe the words that she employed ? 
 
 Come thou child of Jesus too ! 
 
 See this new-born spirit fly ! 
 See what Christ has wrought for you 
 
 Ev'n in death a victoiy ; 
 Victory, complete, and full, 
 Over Satan's iron rule. 
 
 O ye careless ! think again ! 
 
 Ere you scout the promis'd bliss ; 
 Trust in him who died ! and then 
 
 Fruit shall robe your wilderness ; 
 Fruit that never shall decay, 
 Rip'ning to the perfect day. 
 
 Hai*ps of holiest spirits gone ! 
 
 All ye choirs of bliss above ! 
 Sweetly sound your noblest tone I 
 
 Praising loud the Lord of love. 
 Sav'd by God's almighty hand. 
 Now another joins your band. 
 
 Lord ! lead mourners left behind 
 
 To the gi-ace that stayed her soul ; 
 That alone can calm the mind 
 
 While the world's proud tempests roll ; 
 Guide through all the ills of time 
 To a high, a heavenly clime. R. J. N. 
 
 Glasgow, March, 1829. 
 
164. 
 
 Much of the compassion of God has been shown 
 to the writer of this memoir, in his affliction, 
 through the instrumentahty of his Christian friends. 
 They have very tenderly sympathized with him ; 
 they have rendered him numberless kind, and ac- 
 ceptable services ; they have earnestly remembered 
 him in their prayers, and have been stirred up, on 
 his account, to greater importunity in prayer. In 
 no way, have their exertions come home more 
 effectually to his relief, than in many excellent 
 letters of condolence and consolation, with which 
 he has been favoured. He begs to express his 
 deeply felt obligations publicly, because he has 
 not had either strength or spirits, to make those 
 private and personal acknowledgments, which 
 were justly due, in each particular instance. 
 
 But how shall he make them, in the most 
 appropriate manner ? He hopes it will not give 
 offence, if he act on the persuasion, that the letters 
 referred to cannot be more suitably acknowledged, 
 than by being published. They will thus crown the 
 monument, which his trembling hand has been at- 
 tempting to rear to his beloved, lamented wife, whom 
 his sympathizing correspondents have, with sacred 
 poets, and gospel heralds, delighted to honour. The 
 widower, whom they have done so much to con- 
 sole, will have them, at all times, on his table, for 
 his own benefit ; and they will furnish a lasting 
 store of instruction and comfort for the benefit 
 
165 
 
 of others, since the cup of sorrow is always cir- 
 culating. 
 
 In many respects, he conceives, that the letters 
 form the most important, and perhaps the most 
 acceptable part of this little volume. Every reader 
 is, for the time, treated as the letter-writer's com- 
 panion. The letters given already, were the writer's 
 principal encouragement to draw up his Memoir. 
 No kind of reading can be more easy, or attractive, 
 to the afflicted, than suitable communications of 
 this nature. They are short, pointed, warm, 
 diversified, and confidential. They are at once of 
 general interest, and receive life and force from 
 being written, under the influence of a great sen- 
 sation, on a trying occasion, to a particular 
 friend. — The afflicted person will read a letter, 
 when he has not inclination, or power, to read any 
 thing else. And the benevolence, which prompted 
 the esteemed, the dearly loved writers, to make 
 such an effort for one, will not be disappointed by 
 seeing their highly prized services made available 
 for many. 
 
 It is only a selection that can be attempted. 
 No names will be published, in letters of strictly 
 private friendship : greater liberty will be taken 
 in letters written by public men, especially in 
 those written by brethren in the ministry, and in 
 a way comparatively, of a public nature. All 
 private matters will be omitted. Although, there- 
 
166 
 
 fore, he has not been able to ask leave previously 
 in each particular case, and has even been afraid 
 to do so lest he should encounter a refusal, the 
 receiver of these excellent letters humbly hopes he 
 may show his gratitude to his correspondents, and 
 his desire to impart to companions in tribulation, 
 the balm which has done so much towards mitigat- 
 ing the sufferings of his own mind, without hurt- 
 ing the feelings, or incurring the displeasure of 
 those, who have laid him under unspeakable obli- 
 gations, by the love they have shown to the dead, 
 and to the living ; who, in the spirit of genuine 
 compassion, must have real pleasure in comforting 
 all that are cast down ; and who cannot possibly 
 find in the publication of their letters, any thing 
 of theirs which does not do them honour. — The 
 letters are subjoined in the order of their dates. 
 
 The writer of the Memoir had written thus far, 
 when there were put into his hands, two letters by 
 THE Subject of the Memoir, written for the 
 very purpose of consoling an afflicted family, under 
 two successive bereavements, and kindly trans- 
 mitted by them for this publication. Too late to 
 be inserted earlier, they must take a place here 
 also; where they will be found sweetly to har- 
 monize with all that shall follow. — According to 
 the proposed order of dates, they of course come 
 first. 
 
167 
 
 "Glasgow, 17th Nov., 1821. 
 " My dear Miss Y g, 
 
 " Mr. Ewing and I most sincerely sympathize 
 with you, your mother, and every member of the 
 family, on the recent loss you have sustained, — but 
 blessed be God, we are called on to mingle thanks- 
 givings also. When we view this world as we 
 ought, as merely a preparatory place for an eternal 
 abode, can we weep much at the thought of one we 
 loved having done with all sin, and sorrow, and 
 pain, and being at God's right hand, where are plea- 
 sures for evermore ? Those who have not fled for 
 refuge to the hope set before them in the Gospel, 
 may well be alarmed when one of their number is 
 taken away, uncertain when their turn may come 
 to appear before Him as a Judge whom they have 
 neglected as a Saviour. But those who are build- 
 ing on the foundation which has proved firm to 
 the very end with those whose faith and hope 
 were similarly placed, know that they will soon 
 rejoice for ever with and on account of those, whose 
 company they now miss and mourn. 
 
 " I remember when my only and beloved sister 
 left this vale of tears, I used to feel in a way I 
 cannot describe, overpowered when I thought of 
 or heard of her as connected with worldly things, 
 but when I considered where she was, what she 
 was delivered from, and what enjoying, I could 
 almost believe I heard the melody of heaven. 
 
168 
 
 " My dear friend, we know God is love ; that 
 he is faithful to his promise, and will make all 
 things work together for good to those who love 
 him; let us trust him, and we shall see he will 
 bring some sweet out of this bitter. Let us pray 
 and not faint. Surely it was not in vain your 
 dear sister had so triumphant an end. May He 
 who can, give us cause to sing of mercy to some 
 precious soul awakened by it. I shall be anxious 
 
 to hear dear Mrs. R y has not suffered in her 
 
 health. When any of you write to her, will you 
 kindly remember us with the most affectionate 
 sympathy. As we shall be anxious to hear of you 
 all, I am sure Mr. O — e will indulge us with a few 
 lines. I hope you will not make an effort to write 
 me ; when you can easily do so, it will give me 
 much pleasure. Mr. Ewing and Miss Cathcart 
 join in every kind wish to you and your mother, 
 
 and I am, my dear Miss Y g, 
 
 "Yours affectionately, 
 
 « B. Ewing." 
 
 « My dear Miss Y g, 
 
 " We were truly grieved to learn by Mr. O — 's 
 letter, that it had pleased our Heavenly Father 
 again to visit your family with an afflictive stroke. 
 We sincerely sympathize with you — to tell you so, 
 cannot alleviate your distress; — but blessed be 
 God we know of One, who, in all the affliction of 
 
169 
 
 his people, is afflicted, and who has the power to 
 support under, and deliver out of, and sanctify by 
 every such dispensation of his Holy Providence. 
 Faint not, therefore, my dear friend, under this 
 and other painful visitations, but believe all that 
 God has spoken of the meaning and end of all his 
 dealings, and you will infallibly experience his 
 faithfulness. Tribulation worketh patience, pa- 
 tience experience, and experience hope, and hope 
 maketh not ashamed, but the peace of God which 
 passeth all understanding, shall keep your heart 
 and mind by Christ Jesus. If we are called on 
 even when eating and drinking, and in every 
 ordinary thing, to do all to the glory of God — 
 much more are we to show to the world that we 
 are not only actuated, but supported by the con- 
 solations and hopes of the Gospel, and so lead 
 others by our sorrows to glorify God as a very pre- 
 sent help in trouble. — If Christians yield to sorrow, 
 so as to hurt their health and mar their usefulness, 
 as the light of the world and salt of the earth, 
 Satan gets an advantage. On the other hand, if 
 all these trials only quicken their zeal and make 
 them more dead to the world and alive to God, 
 He is glorified by the produce of that fruit which 
 it was his purpose they should yield. You know 
 all this better than I do, but we need each other's 
 help to bring these things to remembrance when 
 our minds are perplexed with grief; therefore you 
 
170 
 
 will receive it as it is meant, an expression of 
 affectionate concern. Mr. Evving and Miss Cath- 
 cart join me in requesting you to say to your 
 mother how deeply we feel for her, and beg our 
 best respects. They beg their love to you, and 
 
 believe me, my dear Miss Y g, 
 
 " Yours very sincerely, 
 
 « B. EWING." 
 
 "Glasgow, 22d Oct., 1823." ., 
 
 Mrs. Swing's character and success, as a step- 
 mother, having formed so interesting a part of 
 the Memoir,* the writer of it hopes he will be par- 
 doned by the public, and by his own child, for 
 introducing, without her knowledge, the letter, 
 which, in poor health, and much agitation, she 
 hurriedly wrote him, while her husband was setting 
 off, on receiving the melancholy intelligence, to 
 tender in person his affectionate services. 
 
 "Durham, Sept. 16th, 1828. 
 " My beloved Father, 
 " I have taken up my pen, but I hardly know 
 how to address you. I and mine have lost our 
 best earthly friend ; but all personal considerations 
 are for the present nearly swallowed up in the 
 contemplation o^ your loss. What that is, we can 
 partly imagine, but you alone feel it in all its 
 
 * See p. 65. 
 
171 
 
 bitterness. This is a renewal of former griefs, 
 with many aggravating circumstances. But I am 
 forcibly reminded that she whose death we are 
 deploring, was ever disposed to be grateful for the 
 mercies that had been enjoyed, rather than to 
 indulge in regret when they were withdrawn ; and 
 I am sure it is more congenial with what were her 
 views and feelings, that we should dwell upon the 
 strong consolations of the gospel, than upon the 
 gloomy and painful circumstances in which this 
 event has placed us. O what a mercy is it now, 
 that we have everlasting consolation and good 
 hope through * grace ;' a good part which cannot 
 be taken away. I doubt not you are enabled to 
 say with Job, * though He slay me, yet will I trust 
 in him ;' and with one greater than Job, ' the 
 cup which my father giveth me, shall I not drink 
 it?' Your flesh and your heart cannot but fail 
 under this overwhelming stroke ; but the Lord is 
 the strength of your heart and your portion for 
 ever. He has never left nor forsaken you yet, and 
 most assuredly He will not now. 
 
 " Though there is a difference in the dates of 
 the letters, of two days, we received both this 
 morning. The slight idea which they give of the 
 painful circumstances, is very dreadful, but what 
 must they have been to you who witnessed and 
 participated in them ! The suddenness of the acci- 
 dent, the violence of it, and the acuteness of the 
 
It2 
 
 suffering ; the absence from home, — are all to our 
 view circumstances of painful regret. Yet precious 
 in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints, 
 and even amidst the fury of implacable enemies, 
 Stephen is said to have fallen asleep. It is cer- 
 tainly a mercy that death was not instantaneous ; 
 and though much suffering must have been en- 
 dured, the latter end seems to have been peace. 
 Prayer for those whom she loved was a favourite 
 and frequent employment ; and it seems it was the 
 last. It was ever a source of great comfort to me, 
 to know that we enjoyed her constant remembrance 
 at the throne of grace ; and I trust we shall yet 
 receive many blessings in consequence of it. But 
 when I come to think of my own obligations, and 
 of the loss I have sustained, I must forbear at pre- 
 sent to enlarge, for I am not yet sufficiently com- 
 posed almost to realize what has taken place. I 
 trust the Lord will preserve my dear husband to 
 reach you in safety, and that he may be honoured 
 in some measure to minister to your comfort. 
 We cannot see it our duty to leave home both 
 at once ; and in the first instance, his going seems 
 more likely to be of use than mine. If we are 
 continued in health, I will most gladly come and 
 see you a little after this. But what an altered 
 prospect presents itself there ! I shall feel anxious 
 to hear how you are, and the other sufferers ; and 
 many particulars which my husband will be able 
 
173 
 
 to communicate. Mrs. O y and Miss L n 
 
 both deeply feel the unexpected intelligence, and 
 unite in deploring the loss sustained by the cause 
 of Christ. I know of no individual whose death 
 will be more generally deplored throughout the 
 churches in Scotland, or with greater reason. But 
 the Lord liveth and reigneth ; let the earth rejoice. 
 It is certainly a matter of thankfulness that your 
 health was re-established before this. I trust your 
 injury may not be of serious consequence. 
 
 " I was providentially led to return home from 
 Sunderland last night. I am obliged to conclude. 
 With earnest prayers that you may be supported, 
 and that this event may be sanctified to us all, 
 " I remain, my dear father, 
 *' Your affectionate daughter, 
 
 " Janet Jamieson Matheson." 
 
 " H , 16th September, 1828. 
 
 " My very dear Friend, 
 " Having read in the Edinburgh Courant, the 
 distressing account of what befell you and party, 
 I was balancing whether to address you at Lanark 
 or Glasgow, to learn particulars, and to hear as I 
 hoped favourable accounts, when your notice of 
 yesterday announcing the melancholy event that 
 has taken place, reached and has very sensibly 
 affected me. How true it is that in midst of life 
 we are in death, that when perhaps on an excur- 
 
174 
 
 sion in pursuit of health we meet our death. How 
 
 little we know where safety is or danger lurks. 
 
 But it is comfortable to know that the time when, 
 the place where, and the manner how, each of us 
 is to die is known to him, to whom belong the 
 issues of death, — and that it shall be well with the 
 righteous in whatever circumstances or by what- 
 ever means their death is occasioned. 
 
 " You, my dear friend, must sorrow, — but you 
 have not to sorrow as those who have no hope. — 
 I need only express my deep sympathy with you, 
 and offer up my earnest prayer, that the Father of 
 mercies and God of all grace and consolation may 
 comfort your heart. The sources of true spiritual 
 comfort in the most trying situations are well 
 known to you. May the Lord enable you to 
 derive consolation and support fro-m them. — And 
 if he give quietness, who then, or what can occasion 
 trouble ? — This event, so painful to flesh and blood, 
 has not happened by accident, but with the perfect 
 knowledge, permission, and will of him who has the 
 key of death in his hand, in whose wisdom and 
 goodness we have every reason to confide and to 
 rest assured that this is just as it should be. — Are 
 we wiser than he ? Were all circumstances known 
 and considered, we should see that it is better thus 
 than otherwise. O let us be still and know that it 
 is God with whom we have to do, and that it 
 becomes not us to oppose our wills to his will, or 
 
]T5 
 
 to wish even to have things different from what 
 they are. — * Should it be according to thy mind^* 
 It is comfortable to reflect that God does not wil- 
 lingly afflict nor grieve the children of men, — that 
 when he chastens his people, it is because there is 
 need for it, and to do them good by the discipline. 
 Let us search ourselves, — and seek that the salu- 
 tary design of such an afflicting dispensation may 
 be realized by us, — that we may be quickened in 
 our diligence to be found of God in peace, — and 
 may be habitually watching and waiting for the 
 coming of the Lord. 
 
 " I shall be most anxious till I hear of you. 
 We are both soon to leave this world — sooner 
 perhaps than we are aware. Oh that we may be 
 ready and becoming more meet for the inheritance 
 of the saints in light. I hope I am weaning from 
 the world, and would contemplate my departure 
 to the world of spirits daily. 
 
 " I remain, my dear friend, 
 " Your affectionate and sympathizing brother, 
 
 " R L ." 
 
 " Cheltenham, September 20th, 1828. 
 
 " My dear and much valued Friend, 
 
 " It is with unutterable anxiety and sorrow, I have 
 
 just read in one of the papers, an account of the 
 
 afflictive dispensation of Providence, with which 
 
 you have been visited ! — I read the melancholy 
 
1T6 
 
 record again and again, hoping that there might be 
 possibly some mistake ; but another paper confirm- 
 ed the same account, and announced the fatal result, 
 in reference to your dear and beloved partner ! — 
 Yet why should I call it 'fatal result.'— Alas ! our 
 feelino-s and our weaknesses compel us to use such 
 terms ; while a realizing apprehension of the divine 
 testimony and a perception of things as they are, 
 would lead us to look at that result as « an en- 
 trance, ministered abundantly,' into our Father's 
 kino-dom 1 Yet how, my friend, that such should 
 have been the appointed maimer of that entrance — 
 that he who hath « the keys of the unseen world 
 and of death,' should thus have prepared the way 
 for an admission to his immediate presence ! 
 
 * Short, sudden was the gale, 
 That wafted her to rest — 
 A while the waves impetuous rushed, 
 A moment's tossing and 'twas hushed !' — 
 
 " Oh ! my dear friend— I cannot tell you how 
 solicitous I am to know how you are, under this 
 overwhelming trial. I am well assured that you 
 have the sympathy, and prayers, of all who know 
 and love you — and the circle is a wide and extend- 
 ed one, in which your sorrows will be remembered 
 at the throne of our heavenly Father. What is 
 infinitely better— our best Friend does not, and 
 cannot, forget you— He never breaks the bruised 
 reed- He heals the broken hearted and comforts 
 
17T 
 
 them that mourn. I trust, amidst all that sense 
 may feel, and reason may suggest, that God is ena- 
 bling you to say — « It is welP — ' he hath done it,* 
 who is too wise to err, and too gracious to lay upon 
 his suffering people more than he will enable them 
 to bear ! — Often, very often, have I regretted that 
 our great distance from each other, has rendered 
 us so much unacquainted with our respective cir- 
 cumstances, and anxieties, and that the very urgent 
 pressure of duty, and the frequent experience of 
 personal and relative trial, should have made sad 
 chasms in our intercourse. — I the more blame my- 
 self for this, because no one has more tender and 
 grateful and affectionate remembrances, of the 
 days and years that are gone by — never can I for- 
 get the maternal solicitude, the uniform kindness 
 and sympathy of your beloved, but now departed 
 friend — her strength of mind, her humility of spirit, 
 her eminent disinterestedness, and her elevated 
 devotion to the cause of our Lord, were indeed 
 marked and highly characteristic features. — I have 
 never thought of her and of her now mourning 
 partner, without heartfelt gratitude to God for 
 being ever acquainted with her and you ; and for 
 all the precious recollections I am privileged to 
 cherish ! — If you have ever thought me forgetful 
 or unmindful, do, my friend, banish the suspicion, 
 and accept the assurance of my sincere, and most 
 affectionate sympathy. You well know where to 
 
 H 
 
178 
 
 find an all-sufficient solace, and I trust, * He who 
 comforteth them that are cast down,* is not with- 
 holding the ample experience of his * everlasting 
 consolation.* 
 
 " Oh ! the unutterable value of that consolation, 
 and the preciousness of that gospel, which inspires, 
 and supports, and preserves it. I can only pray 
 that the mind of my venerated, and beloved friend, 
 may largely participate in its enjoyment, and that 
 HE who once trod the vale of suiFering and woe, 
 may give you the richest experience of his presence 
 and love ! He has removed your dearest earthly 
 comforter that he may endear to you, more than 
 ever, his own love and the resources of his own 
 unchanging Covenant ! — By and by he will explain 
 the mystery, and enable us all to say — * It was the 
 RIGHT way !' 
 
 " My kind remembrances to Miss Cathcart and 
 all your esteemed circle. 
 
 " And be assured that I am, 
 " My dear friend, 
 " Yours, very sincerely and affectionately, 
 
 " J. Fletcher.** 
 
 " Hackney, September 22d, 1828. 
 
 " Weep with those that weep, and rejoice with 
 
 those that rejoice. — I do sympathize with you, my 
 
 beloved friend, (and so does my dear partner too,) 
 
 and in so doing my heart is, as I believe your heart 
 
It9 
 
 is, touched with the two opposite feelings of grief 
 and joy. It resembles the founders of the second 
 temple, when some wept with a loud voice, and 
 others shouted aloud for joy. Glasgow and its 
 scenery presents itself to my imagination. It 
 seems but the other day, that when my return from 
 the country to the house of Christian hospitality, 
 and kindness, was unusually late at night, she and 
 yourself ran to the door, and welcomed me on my 
 safe arrival, with demonstrations of interest in my 
 welfare, as if I had been a son. It seems but yes- 
 terday, that when visiting Glasgow labouring under 
 indisposition, you took me into your abode, and 
 both of you conspired together to refresh my spirit 
 and make me forget that I was ill. Ah ! your eyes 
 are full of tears, and so are mine, for neither you 
 nor I shall hear her voice again on earth. — Not 
 hear her voice ? Hark ! she reproves me ! Listen 
 with the ear of faith — she speaks and says — If you 
 loved me you would rejoice, for I am gone to dwell 
 with my heavenly Father. — Oh, we do love the dear 
 departed saint, and therefore check our selfish sobs 
 and sighs. What ! would you bring her out of 
 Heaven and down again to earth? No, O my 
 soul, if I had the power, I would not. I would 
 say, retain thy golden harp; strike its chords, 
 celestial spirit; I will not check thine unutterable 
 joys, nor interrupt thy hallelujahs. Oh, how she 
 was welcomed into heaven. Oh, how her soul has 
 
180 
 
 been swallowed up with raptures, not to be told 
 on earth. Oh, when her Saviour looked and smil- 
 ed ; when he said, 'Come thou blessed of my Father, 
 enter into the joy of thy Lord' — the delight which 
 thrilled through her soul, no words can tell. No, 
 thou shalt not come again to earth ; no, not with 
 our consent — we love thee too much to admit of 
 that ; may we go to thee and enjoy thy company 
 and bliss in Heaven. 
 
 * Prepare us, Lord, for thy right hand. 
 Then come the blissful day.' 
 
 " O, what a day ! What a meeting that will 
 be. — Let us be looking for it and hasting to it. 
 " With unfeigned love and sympathy, 
 
 " Yours, beloved friend and brother, 
 
 " H. TOWNLEY." 
 
 " Dundee, 22d September, 1828. 
 *' My dear Sir, 
 " I deeply sympathize with you under the heavy 
 bereavement you have been called to suffer. May 
 the God of all comfort be himself your comforter. 
 You are not left to sorrow as those who have no 
 hope. The Saviour has shed a blessed light on 
 the darkness of the tomb. He hath risen as the 
 first-fruits of them that slept, and the harvest in 
 due time shall be gathered in. The proverbial 
 joy of harvest becomes thus associated with the 
 
181 
 
 vale of death, as we anticipate the period when 
 the night of death shall give way to the dawn of 
 the resurrection morn. In the mean time the 
 spirit has fled to a happier region, where all is 
 light and joy and immortality. Your friend really 
 exists elsewhere, and you have the assurance that 
 all her valued worth still lives, more truly lives, 
 through the communications of that grace which 
 commenced it here, and hath perfected it in the 
 sacred temple of her God. The peace which the 
 gospel thus communicates to the afflicted mourner 
 bears the impress of that blessed region whither 
 the Saviour hath gone. May you abundantly 
 feel that He, amid all the glories of that hallowed 
 land, is now imparting this peace to you as one 
 whose case has been singly considered, whose feel- 
 ings have been most minutely weighed, and whose 
 every want has been regarded. He can stanch 
 the wounds of the bleeding heart, and satisfy the 
 desires of the immortal spirit, when rising above 
 the ills of life, its views are directed to Him in 
 whose presence there is fulness of joy, and at 
 whose right hand there are pleasures for evermore. 
 Henceforth the thoughts of the departed will be 
 associated in your mind with the services and the 
 joys of that hallowed abode. 
 
 " What a mercy that our views are not bounded 
 by the narrow margin of the grave, but stretch to 
 
182 
 
 the throne of the high and lofty One who inhabiteth 
 eternity. 
 
 " I beg to be remembered to Miss Cathcart. I 
 am glad to learn that she is fast recovering, and 
 that you are in the same condition. 
 
 " Praying that you may have abundant grace 
 for all your trials and your labours, 
 " 1 remain, my dear Sir, 
 " Yours very sincerely, 
 
 " David Russell." 
 
 " Pinkie Burn, Musselburgh, 24th Sept. 1828. 
 " My dear, very dear Sir, 
 
 " Now when it is all over, allow a feeble brother, 
 and a mourning brother, to express his most affec- 
 tionate condolence, and tender sympathy with you 
 on this deeply aifecting occasion. I am persuaded 
 that this is not necessary on your account, because 
 you will have many such expressions, and had you 
 none such, you enjoy, I doubt not, the supporting 
 influence of the tender sympathy of Him who 
 * died for us, that whether we wake or sleep we 
 should live together with him;' but it is necessary 
 on my own account ; I could not easily restrain 
 myself from saying something, were it only, that it 
 is impossible for me to express my own feelings, 
 and those of my dear partner for these eight days. 
 
 *' My loss is very great indeed: what a valuable 
 
183 
 
 correspondent, what a valuable fellow labourer, in 
 a good work on which both our hearts were set, 
 is taken away ! what a hospitable friend is gone. 
 I feel that the loss of many in whose welfare I am 
 interested is very great ; there is not another of 
 the same sex whose removal would have been so 
 felt among our churches and brother ministers. — 
 Indeed this is saying but little. But what, my dear 
 Sir, is your loss ! And yet, the desire of your 
 eyes has been taken away with a stroke, by Him 
 who gave himself for your redemption, and her 
 redemption, and who has honoured you both here 
 above many, and made you both meet for the ever- 
 lasting inheritance. And I am sure you are the 
 first to justify Him who guides all the wheels of 
 nature, and to say, that he had a right to do ac- 
 cording to his own mind, as to the time and place 
 and manner of taking his own, of whom for a 
 season he had made a gracious loan to you. 
 
 "Your loss is her gain. Our tears of sorrow 
 have of late been mingled with tears of joy in 
 hearing a little about the end of dear Mrs. Ewing. 
 What we have heard, animating as it is, is not 
 more than what we should have expected, seeing 
 her heavenly Father kindly permitted her to re- 
 tain possession of all her powers of mind and 
 speech to the last. We might have concluded 
 that she would leave the world, as she passed 
 through it : and we ought to bless God for another 
 
184 
 
 proof of the power of grace and faith. We should 
 like to hear more than we have yet heard, but this 
 we cannot expect for some time. 
 
 " I feel anxious also, my dear Sir, to know 
 something more of your state ; I mean your bodily 
 health, and the result of your hurt, for I do be- 
 lieve that your mind is tranquil. Do not, however, 
 suppose that I expect you to write to me: but 
 perhaps some friend might by and by command as 
 much time. Mrs. W. and I feel anxious also to 
 know about our much esteemed friend. Miss Cath- 
 cart, whom we fondly trust the Lord kindly sup- 
 ports and deals tenderly with. 
 
 " May the Lord bless you and keep you, and 
 make his face to shine upon you : your sorrow 
 will soon be turned to joy. Believe us to be 
 your sympathizing friends. 
 
 " My dear, very dear Sir, ever yours, 
 
 " John Watson." 
 
 " Hackney, 24th September, 1828. 
 " My dear Friend, 
 " I can now fully enter into the feelings which 
 not long ago you expressed in a very kind and 
 sympathizing letter to me. I scarcely know how 
 to venture to address you under an affliction so 
 overwhelming as yours. Yet I know and I re- 
 joice that I am addressing one who has long been 
 familiar with those considerations which infinite 
 
185 
 
 wisdom and paternal love have deemed the best 
 solace for the bereaved heart. I do not doubt, 
 my dear friend, that you have realized the sustain- 
 ing influence of that * strong consolation' which the 
 Divine Comforter well knows how to infuse into 
 the agonized spirit. I have myself found scarcely 
 any thought so soothing under moments of anguish 
 as the persuasion that the beloved companion of 
 so many years has actually entered into the rest 
 and blessedness of a perfected and glorified spirit 
 in the presence of Jesus ! To dwell on this con- 
 templation, gives a feeling of submission and re- 
 pose, even when the heart almost refuses to be 
 comforted. And then, rightly viewed, how short 
 is the interval of separation, between the one that 
 is taken and the one that is left ! Soon will the 
 re-union be effected ; and Oh, under circumstances 
 how blissful, how transporting ! What perfection 
 of character, what perfection of blessedness ; what 
 perpetuity of ecstatic joy ! What consummate 
 wisdom will appear in dispensations which now 
 seem enveloped in mysterious obscurity ! And 
 even now, my dear Sir, we are learning, I trust, 
 to say, with filial confidence and submission, « it is 
 well !' 
 
 "It has been only through the public papers 
 that I have received the heart-rending tidings of 
 dear Mrs. Ewing which have occasioned this let- 
 ter. I need not tell you, my dear friend, that I 
 
186 
 
 shall never cease to cherish many tender and many 
 grateful recollections associated with her charac- 
 ter and her name. Greatly I honoured her, and 
 much I loved her. I always regarded her as a 
 Christian elevated, by more than ordinary com- 
 munications from the spirit of Christ, to decided 
 eminence of Christian character. I think, I know 
 how to estimate, in some degree, the loss which 
 not only my beloved friend, but which the church 
 also has sustained. But then He who made her 
 what she was and what now she is^ remains the 
 same in Himself— the same to us ! Let us trust 
 him — let us submit to him — let us find in him 
 reasons for repose. 
 
 " I much long to receive some account of my 
 dear lamented friend's last hours. Can you, amidst 
 your sorrows, find time to favour with a few lines, 
 one who so deeply sympathizes with your grief? 
 If not, would Miss Cathcart so far show me this 
 kindness, for which I should be inexpressibly 
 grateful. I beg most kind remembrance to her, 
 and ever am, 
 
 " My very dear friend, most cordially yours, 
 
 « H. F. BURDER." 
 
 " Grove Lane, Sept. 25th, 182$. 
 " My dear afflicted Friend, 
 " I sit down the first moment of leisure and 
 composure I have enjoyed since the melancholy 
 
1S1 
 
 tidings reached me, which they did, the day after 
 I wrote you last, to express, but that I cannot 
 adequately do, what I feel respecting the loss, 
 which you and the cause of Christ, and I also, 
 have sustained. God only knows how fondly I 
 loved and venerated her, and how much my heart 
 bleeds for you. Her removal engrosses me too 
 much to think even of the painful circumstances 
 under which it took place, and of what has befal- 
 len you all. I feel that I have been deprived of 
 one whose love and confidence I had long been 
 privileged to enjoy — who often aided me by her 
 counsel, and comforted me when depressed ; whose 
 letters, though often imperfectly answered, were 
 always deeply interesting ; and on whose life 1 had 
 calculated for many years to come as a blessing to 
 you and to many. Little did I think when 1 
 parted with you last, that we should not again meet 
 in this vale of tears — and that I should be called 
 so soon to condole with you on the heaviest loss 
 you could sustain. We have been in various ways 
 fellow sufferers, and are likely to be so to the end 
 of our earthly pilgrimage. It is well, we know 
 that it is all well. Goodness and mercy have 
 surely followed us all the days of our life — and we 
 shall dwell together with those who are not lost, 
 but gone before, in our Father's house, when mor- 
 tality shall be swallowed up of life. It is delight- 
 ful to think of such a life, and of such a death too, 
 
188 
 
 as that of your beloved wife. What an encourage- 
 ment to hold fast, and to hold on, and to be fol- 
 lowers of her who by faith and patience has gone 
 to inherit the promises ! Her energy of mind, 
 decision of character, and combination of sound 
 judgment, with unwearied activity and benevo- 
 lence, — all formed under the influence of Christian 
 principle and correct feeling, — were a rare exem- 
 plification of what the grace of God can do ; 
 while her course shows what such a combination 
 can effect. But I need not speak of what she was 
 to you — God has taken her to himself — and it 
 becomes us to bow with silent submission before 
 his sovereign authority. — Be comforted, my be- 
 loved brother, you have long enjoyed an invalu- 
 ble blessing, it is removed but for a little — laid 
 up in heaven, where it will be safely kept till 
 that great day — for which all other days were 
 made. 
 
 " I cannot tell you the distress and interest 
 which this event has excited even in this vast 
 place. Every body sympathizes with you. I 
 informed our friends of it last Lord's day, and en- 
 deavoured to make some improvement of it, and 
 begged them to pray for you. They were all 
 exceedingly distressed, and have since been making 
 many inquiries about you. I have written a short, 
 but I fear an imperfect notice for the Magazine of 
 next month, as many I know expect it. I am now 
 
189 
 
 greatly anxious to hear about you and poor Miss 
 Cathcart, who has lost a sister for a little ; but it 
 may be to gain a brother for ever. 
 
 " Adieu ! my dear friend, may he who comfort- 
 eth those that are cast down, eminently bless and 
 comfort you under this sorrow, that you may yet 
 be enabled to comfort many others. — With united 
 sympathy for yourself and Miss Cathcart, I ever 
 am, yours in the strictest bonds of love and fel- 
 lowship, 
 
 « W. Orme." 
 
 From the Congregational Magazine for October, 
 
 1828. 
 
 " It is with feelings of no ordinary sorrow, that 
 
 we record the death of this truly excellent and 
 
 estimable individual. Most of our readers will 
 
 have been apprised ere this time of the distressing 
 
 circumstances under which it occurred. 
 
 " Thus by a mysterious and painful dispensa- 
 tion, have the church of Christ, and a large circle 
 of attached friends, been deprived of one of the 
 brightest ornaments of the Christian profession, 
 whom it has been our privilege to know. — Though 
 placed in circumstances of affluence, and of great 
 temptation, she was led at an early period of life, 
 to receive the gospel, and by the grace of God 
 she was enabled eminently to adorn its doctrines 
 for a long course of years. The firmness of her 
 
190 
 
 mind, and the inflexibility of her principles, ap- 
 peared in her resistance of every inducement to 
 act contrary to what she believed to be opposed to 
 the word of God, and in her becoming a member 
 of a small Dissenting church, long before her con- 
 nexion with her esteemed husband. Connected 
 as she was, by birth and outward circumstances, 
 with the first families in Scotland, she counted it 
 her highest honour to be known as a Christian, 
 and her greatest privilege to be the wife of a Dis- 
 senting minister. Her energy of character was 
 extraordinary, her activity unceasing, her benevo- 
 lence unwearied, and only limited by her own 
 resources, or those of her friends, which were fre- 
 quently placed at her disposal. Her great object 
 through life was usefulness, and to enjoy it, she 
 was utterly regardless of the opinion of the world, 
 and of all personal labour or sacrifice. It was 
 impossible to be in her society without feeling that 
 she was a woman of no ordinary description, and 
 not easy to leave her company, without retaining 
 some impression of her useful and edifying con- 
 versation. Her correspondence was extensive, 
 especially among the ministers of the Congrega- 
 tional churches in Scotland, to whose comfort she 
 ministered both in spiritual and temporal things, 
 in the most efficient and persevering manner. She 
 was, in the best sense of the expression, ' a mother 
 in Israel,' and a 'succourer of many,' who will 
 
191 
 
 long deplore the loss they have sustained, while 
 they will ever rejoice in the abundant grace con- 
 ferred upon her. We could say much more were 
 we to do justice to what we know ; and we should 
 not know when to stop, were we to say what we 
 feel. Thus much we have felt ourselves bound to 
 state, in the discharge of public duty, and of per- 
 sonal friendship and affection.'* 
 
 Extract from a Sermon, delivered by Mr. Orme to 
 his Church at Camherwell, on James iv. 13. " Ye 
 know not what shall be on the morrow ;" from 
 Notes taken by a Lady, 
 
 *' I have offered these few remarks from the 
 impression made on my own mind, in reference to 
 the very painful occurrence to which I adverted 
 this morning, and which has lately befallen the 
 family of my much esteemed friend Mr. Ewing. 
 I know not scarcely in what terms to advert to 
 this very trying dispensation. I need scarcely say 
 to you, that between that individual and myself, 
 and his family, indeed, a long and a very intimate 
 connexion has subsisted, his name stands connected 
 with my earliest associations and feelings in the 
 profession and in the ministry of the gospel ; 
 during more than twenty years we have lived 
 together, on terms of the most intimate and en- 
 deared correspondence. I need scarcely refresh 
 
192 
 
 your memories by a reference to the exquisitely 
 tender manner, in which he addressed the indivi- 
 dual who is now addressing you.* You may easily 
 conceive, under such circumstances, what I must 
 have felt when I first heard the painful occurrence 
 which has filled not only that family, but a very 
 large circle of Christians, and even of others also, 
 with a degree of sorrow that is very rarely expe- 
 rienced. 
 
 " Such, my friends, is the amount of the melan- 
 choly event ; melancholy it is in many respects, and 
 yet in connexion with it there are considerations 
 full of consolation, and which afford the richest 
 hope to the minds of all who were acquainted 
 with the respected individual who is now no more. 
 
 " Of Mrs. Ewing, I scarcely know how to ex- 
 press myself in the presence of those who did not 
 enjoy her acquaintance ; I scarcely know such 
 another female in the profession of the gospel of 
 our Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 " She received the gospel of Christ in circum- 
 stances that made that gospel peculiarly dear to 
 her, and produced a powerful impression on her 
 mind, and a revolution of character and conduct 
 which were apparent to all ; and from the moment 
 of her profession of the gospel up to the last 
 period of her life, she acted with a degree of deci- 
 sion that is scarcely equalled. — She received the 
 
 * At Mr. Orme's Settlement at Camber well. 
 
193 
 
 gospel as I have stated, she acted thus under its 
 influence, she left the establishment of the country, 
 and in all the connexions in which she lived and 
 moved, in connexion with the church in our body 
 in Scotland, she has left a testimony and an im- 
 pression which I am sure cannot be forgotten 
 during the life of most of the individuals who 
 belong to that body: she was unwearied in her 
 activity, in her benevolence, in her dispensations 
 of kindness, and she possessed the esteem and con- 
 fidence of hundreds who must therefore sorrow in 
 
 no ordinary measure 1 shall live and die with 
 
 the most powerful impression of her character and 
 kindness." 
 
 "Elgin, 25th Sept., 1828. 
 " My very dear Sir, 
 " The severe bereavement with which it has 
 pleased our heavenly Father recently to visit you, 
 in the removal to himself of your excellent and 
 dear partner in life — and our generous, faithful, 
 and lamented friend, has struck us all in the north 
 like a thunderbolt. It was altogether so sudden 
 and unexpected to us, that it has stunned us like 
 the shock of an earthquake. The vibration is 
 general among our churches in these northern 
 parts. We all feel as if we had lost in her remov- 
 al — a long tried, and firm friend — an affectionate 
 sister — and a mother of our Israel. Our pas- 
 
194 
 
 tors and churches in this quarter look upon the 
 mournful event as the first public bereavement 
 which, as a body, we have met with. In our judg- 
 ment we knew that she was mortal ; — and, although 
 she frequently had very poor health, — yet we had 
 flattered ourselves that our heavenly Father might, 
 for many years to come, spare her for a blessing 
 to you — her family — the public in your populous 
 city, and especially to the churches of the congre- 
 gational body in Scotland — to the poorest of which 
 she had been so long a most efficient, and generous 
 friend. * Many daughters have done virtuously' 
 — but when we think of her sound sense, her fer- 
 vent piety, her decision of principle, her activity 
 and energy of character, the deep interest she took 
 in the comfort of the poor pastors and the condition 
 of their families — and the sympathetic care for all 
 the churches, — without exaggeration or invidious 
 comparison, we cannot help thinking — ' that she 
 excelled them all.' ' She has been a succourer of 
 many, and of myself also.' But I almost forget 
 that I am writing to her surviving husband, whom 
 she has left to feel and deplore his loss — and who 
 is a thousand fold better qualified than I can 
 be to appreciate her sterling worth— and to 
 estimate his own and our loss. But we rejoice 
 to think that our loss has been her unspeakable 
 and everlasting gain. Neither you nor we, my dear 
 Sir, are called to mourn over her ashes as those 
 
195 
 
 who have no hope. And while it is a considera- 
 tion that may partly add to the pungency of your 
 grief; yet in another respect you have been highly 
 favoured of the Lord even to have had such a 
 partner in life — such a suitable help-meet for you 
 in the kingdom and patience of our common Lord 
 — and that he spared her so long with you in the 
 wilderness. 
 
 Although, my dear Sir, she has left you like a 
 shattered oak a little longer to weather the storms 
 of the wilderness ; yet I am sure many thousand 
 prayers will be presented to the mercy-seat of our 
 heavenly Father at this crisis, for grace, and strength 
 to yourself — your family — and flock, to sweeten, 
 soften, and sanctify the mournful event to all your 
 souls. A thousand streams of Christian sympathy 
 will flow from as many hearts, and will run in 
 one strong current along with you on this 
 occasion. Although your own character were less 
 known, and less valued by us all than it really is — 
 your having been the husband of Mrs, Ewing would 
 make you a point of attraction, and the subject of 
 our most sincere sympathy and condolence at this 
 time. But above all, you and we have a Great 
 High Priest passed into the heavens, who can pour 
 into your soul the balm of mercy, and the oil of 
 gospel gladness, so as to render you perfectly com- 
 forted and happy, under your severe, and otherwise 
 irreparable loss. We trust he also will do it, you 
 
196 
 
 know HIM who was dead and is alive — and who 
 lives for evermore — and who can sustain under the 
 most weighty trials, and bereavements. For none 
 of us liveth to himself, and no man dieth to him- 
 self. But whether we live, we live unto the Lord — 
 or whether we die, we die unto the Lord. — Living 
 or dying we are the Lord's. For to this end Jesus 
 both died, and rose and revived, that he might be 
 Lord both of the dead and the living. « Death- 
 divided friends will soon meet to part no more.' 
 May it be our great concern, to occupy till the 
 Lord come — to be faithful unto death, and in due 
 time we shall receive the crown of life. 
 
 "I have very lately had a letter from Mr. 
 Dewar, and another from Mr. Martin, in which 
 they express their deep regret at the decease of 
 Mrs. Ewing — and their sincere sympathy with 
 you, your family, friends, and flock, under this 
 breach. Messrs. Martin and Munro, are this week 
 out on a preaching excursion on the banks of the 
 Dee, and Don. Mr. Martin, in his letter to me, 
 wishes me very much to write you — and to express 
 our united affection, and tender sympathy for you 
 and the family, on this occasion. Indeed there can 
 only be one common feeling, among all our pastors 
 and churches in the north, in contemplating the 
 removal of our dear departed friend — and in sym- 
 pathizing with the chief mourner. Her memorial 
 will long be embalmed in all our memories. Asso- 
 
197 
 
 ciations and recollections of Mrs. Ewing, some- 
 how or other, have for many years been blended 
 with all our itinerating exertions in the north. 
 No person ever did, or ever could take a deeper 
 interest in these operations, than she did ; and a 
 vivid recollection of those things, if we are spared 
 to live and labour in the Lord's vineyard, must 
 still mingle with our country excursions for many 
 years to come. It would be gratifying for us to 
 hear either from you — or of you by some of the 
 friends, at the earliest convenience — and how each 
 of those who were confined by the accident is 
 recovering. Mrs. M'Neil unites with me in kindest 
 regards, and affectionate sympathy for you. Miss 
 Cathcart, and all the family. May the God of 
 love and peace be with you all ! 
 
 " I am, my dear Sir, 
 
 " Yours most cordially, 
 
 "N. McNeil." 
 
 "Edinburgh, September 28th, 1828. 
 
 " My dear Sir, 
 
 " God be with you, my friend ! in this hour 
 
 of darkness, and you will find light in the Lord. 
 
 God be with you, my brother ! in this awful soli- 
 tude and grief, and although the earth quakes, and 
 the prison walls tremble, and the iron not only 
 fetters the members, but enters your soul, with 
 Paul and Silas, you shall sing. Yea, you shall 
 
198 
 
 sing at midnight, and joy shall assuredly come in 
 the morning. So, for years, you have told others, 
 and you shall yet tell it them again, and with this 
 addition, that so yourself have found it, 
 
 " It is a very severe, but not a new or strange 
 thing which has happened to you, and I know, 
 that as soon as it took place, you were prepared to 
 say. The Lord has done it, and he is wise in all 
 his ways, and holy in all his works, and what more 
 can be added than that, The will of the Lord be 
 done. * The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken 
 away, blessed be the name of the Lord.' — Think 
 not that I am ignorant of the greatness, or insen- 
 sible to the value of your loss. — To you I well 
 know it is beyond estimation or comparison. 
 Well ! but is it on this account less unworthy to 
 be given to God ! or will it be less acceptable to 
 him ? 
 
 " If I mistake not, three-fourths of the day of 
 life, according to the reckoning of Moses, has 
 nearly passed with you, and at the close of the 
 day this gift will be again restored to you, but O ! 
 in what different circumstances. It was taken 
 away in the midst of tears, and lamentations, and 
 mourning, and wo, and miserable anticipations, 
 (I had almost said fie upon it,) but it will be 
 given back with gladness, and with mirth, and 
 with triumph, and with joy, and in assured hope 
 of life immortal. — O ! how unlike is God's mode 
 
199 
 
 of giving to that of man. — Comfort yourself, my 
 dear Sir, with the belief of these truths, and your 
 spirit, like Jacob when he saw the waggons, will 
 come again, and you will receive beauty for ashes, 
 and the oil of festivity and joy, for the spirit of 
 heaviness. — In the meantime, there is one fact of 
 which you will permit me to remind you. There 
 is a cup, you know, a fearful cup, denominated in 
 the Scripture, the cup of trembling, for reasons I 
 need not detail to you. — This awful cup was ori- 
 ginally prepared for you, and when it was just 
 about to be put into your hands, there was a 
 friend that said. Give it to me, and it was given to 
 him, and for your sake, and from love to you, 
 capacious as it was, he drank it, and left not a 
 drop, no not one drop behind. But though there 
 is not a drop left, the scent remains. He has just 
 now, it seems, put this cup into your hands, and 
 though you cannot taste, you have found a little 
 of the scent thereof, and it is horrible. — And if 
 the scent be horrible, think what the full draught 
 must have been. It will lead you to fellowship 
 both in the suffering and the love of Him that 
 drank it for you — and if you suffer with him, you 
 shall also reign with him. May that be my case 
 as well as yours, and believe me to be, with much 
 esteem and regard, my dear Sir, 
 
 " Your friend and servant, 
 
 « T. S. J ." 
 
200 
 
 « Wrentham, 29th September, 182^. 
 " Very dear Sir, 
 
 " I have been exceedingly grieved to hear of 
 the heavy and painful affliction with which you 
 have recently been visited in the loss of Mrs. 
 Ewino-, in circumstances which must have filled 
 you with unspeakable distress. I have not yet 
 seen any of the accounts contained in the Londoii 
 papers of the awful accident which has plunged 
 you into the deep waters of affliction, but I have 
 heard from those who have, the painful particulars 
 of the melancholy event, and I hasten to assure 
 you of my tenderest and most affectionate sympa- 
 thy, and of my fervent prayers that you may be 
 enabled in this hour of trial to cast your burden 
 on the Lord, and that you may find him a refuge 
 and strength, a present help in trouble. 
 
 " It is a great consolation to know that, how- 
 ever casual and accidental events may appear to 
 us, they are all under the direction of Him who is 
 infinite in wisdom and goodness, who numbers the 
 hairs of our heads, and without whose knowledge 
 a sparrow does not fall to the ground ; particularly 
 as he has assured us that all things shall work 
 tof^ether for good to them that love him, and are 
 the called according to his purpose. You have 
 also the consolation of reflecting that though this 
 event is painful to you, it has produced a delight- 
 
20] 
 
 ful change in the condition of the dear object of 
 your affections, and translated her from a world 
 of sin and sorrow, to one of purity and bliss, and 
 everlasting joy, where there shall be no more 
 death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall 
 there be any more pain, the former things being 
 passed away. You have only occasion to weep 
 for yourself, for those friends to whom she was 
 dear and from whom she is now separated, and 
 for those objects of her Christian compassion 
 whom she laboured to benefit, both as to their 
 temporal and their spiritual interest. She has 
 joined the spirits of the just made perfect, and 
 being absent from the body, she is now present with 
 the Lord, and the time is not far distant, when 
 you will again enjoy her society in all the perfec- 
 tion and rapture of heaven. Weeping may endure 
 for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. The 
 ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to 
 Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their 
 heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and 
 sorrow and sighing flee away. And in the mean- 
 time, our afflictions, which, comparatively speak- 
 ing, are light and but for a moment, are working 
 out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight 
 of glory. 
 
 " I am myself at present but poorly in health, 
 having suffered last week three paroxysms of inter- 
 mittent fever, but I am, I hope, convalescent, as I 
 
202 
 
 escaped the fit last Lord's day evening. Indeed I 
 have suffered more from indisposition in the last 
 two years, than I had done for more than thirty 
 years before. But God does all things well, and 
 while he has afflicted me less than my iniquities 
 deserve, he has bestowed upon me mercies both 
 temporal and spiritual, which I cannot contem- 
 plate without admiring gratitude. O that my 
 gratitude were more of an active principle, and 
 impelled me to make more vigorous exertions to 
 promote the glory of my great benefactor. 
 
 <« In all our afflictions there is a mixture of 
 mercy, and I consider it as a great mercy, that 
 your valuable life has been spared, and that, as I 
 understand, you have not sustained any material 
 injury in your own person. I doubt not, that 
 when time and Christian principle have, in some 
 measure, abated the perturbation of spirit, occa- 
 sioned by the awful shock which you have sustain- 
 ed, you will be able to perceive and acknowledge, 
 the mercies which have been mingled in the event, 
 which in one of its results has plunged you into 
 an abyss of grief. O that the Father of mercies, 
 and God of all comfort and consolation, may cheer 
 you with his sympathy and with the hght of his 
 countenance. And now, I commend you to him 
 and to the word of his grace, which is able to 
 build you up, and to give you an inheritance 
 among all them that are sanctified. Mrs. Ritchie 
 
203 
 
 unites in kindest and most sympathizing regards 
 to you and Miss Cathcart, and I am, 
 
 " Yours with great respect and affection, 
 " Andrew Ritchie." 
 
 " Sheffield, September 30th, 1828. 
 " My DEAR Sir, 
 " I am desirous to express my sympathy with 
 you, in the great affliction with which it has 
 pleased God to visit you. I am only acquainted 
 with the general fact ; and such circumstances as 
 were detailed in the public prints. Possibly these 
 are not either full or correct : but it is not to be 
 supposed that you have time and spirits to correct 
 or enlarge these accounts. Thus much we know, 
 in general, that you have been deprived of the 
 friend and companion of many years, in a way that 
 must add not a little to the bitterness of the trial. 
 " I am not forgetful of the great consolation 
 you have from the frame of mind, and happy 
 experience of our late friend in the most trying of 
 all seasons : and even if this had not been so, and 
 she had been suddenly taken away, or otherwise 
 unable to express herself comfortably, yet we are 
 all so fully assured of her safety, from the solid 
 evidence of eminent and consistent piety, that our 
 consolation needed not to be less, than it now is. 
 
204 
 
 Still there is mercy in the cup of sorrow, as mat- 
 ters were ordered by a gracious Providence : and 
 you who were near all the time, and knew all, must 
 have strong consolation. 
 
 " We are not called to think of those that sleep 
 in Jesus, as lost or dead, or even as entirely severed 
 from us. For we are come to the spirits of just 
 men made perfect — we are all one family in hea- 
 ven and in earth. They prevent us, indeed, and 
 thus have the advantage : but it is only for a time, 
 and even now, they are only taken to a higher 
 mansion of the house of our Father. 
 
 " For this they had been prepared by the teach- 
 ing and discipline of God's house here below : and 
 being prepared for it, they are taken up higher 
 into the presence of God. Yet they may know 
 much of what concerns us here. We know much 
 of what they do there — and we may, in our mea- 
 sure, do and feel as they. 
 
 " But their departure may be meant to prepare 
 us to follow them. Certainly it cuts some of the 
 cords that bind us to the earth — it raises the soul 
 to the place where they dwell. The world is 
 darker, and more cold by their departure — heaven 
 has one additional attraction to what it had before. 
 Thus, perhaps, were they removed that we might 
 be made sooner and more fully meet to follow. 
 
 " Meantime, it were wrong to weep and sorrow 
 
205 
 
 as those who have no hope. We should comfort 
 ourselves with such words as are found in the 
 sacred word. 
 
 " Nor should the world, and life, and duty, 
 become so insipid, that our hands shall hang down, 
 and our knees grow feeble, and the duties of life, 
 with the labours of the gospel, grow uninteresting 
 This were both sinful and unwise. Rather let us 
 work while it is day, since the night cometh when 
 no man can work. My hope and prayer is, that 
 God will give such support — that neither your 
 health nor spirits shall fail, nor your labours or 
 studies be long interrupted. They will, I am sure, 
 assume a holier character, and a more elevated 
 tone, and thus many may profit by your trials. 
 Your loss may thus be gain to many, and one who 
 served the Lord in life, may more eminently serve 
 him at her departure. With best wishes, prayers, 
 and sympathy, in which I am joined by Mrs. S. 
 " I am, my dear Sir, 
 " Yours ever truly, 
 
 " Thomas Smith." 
 
 " Huntly, 2d October, 1828. 
 
 " My very dear Sir, 
 
 " You will excuse me for intruding upon you 
 
 merely to express my deepest sympathy. When 
 
 the tidings of dear Mrs. Ewing's death reached 
 
 this, I was confined to bed by a serious attack. 
 
206 
 
 They concealed the news from me until the 
 violence of the disease was broken. For some 
 days after I durst never think of her, but as enjoy- 
 ing consummate bliss; nor of you, but as supported 
 by the arm of your heavenly Master. My after 
 reflections I dare not, even now, give vent to : 
 but I determined, the first day I was able to sit up 
 to write, to inform you that there are here who 
 both feel much, and pray for you under your 
 present deep distress. I cannot ask you to write ; 
 while I feel most anxious to hear how you are, 
 and also of Miss Cathcart. Mrs. Ewing was my 
 only Glasgow correspondent, and the high enjoy- 
 ment I had from her pleasing, instructive, and 
 affectionate letters, shall be cherished while I live. 
 Often they refreshed me when ready to give way 
 
 to thoughts of a desponding nature but 
 
 she is in the land where the sun goes no more 
 down. I cannot enlarge. May the Father of 
 mercies make good to you his great promise, ' I 
 will never leave thee !' 
 
 " Mrs. Hill joins me most cordially in every 
 expression of Christian regard and tender feeling, 
 and I ever am, 
 
 " My dear Sir, 
 
 " Most affectionately yours, 
 
 "John Hill.** 
 
207 
 
 " Edinburgh, Oct. 3d, 1828. 
 " My dear Sir, 
 
 " Few things could have gratified the feelings 
 of my heart, more than the receipt of your kind 
 letter, and inestimable token of my much loved 
 friend's recollection of me. Inexpressibly painful, 
 yet pleasant, are such proofs of affection from one 
 so much lamented, and so much beloved. 
 
 " Were it not to acknowledge my gratitude for 
 such favours, I should not have had courage to 
 intrude my feeble expressions of sympathy on your 
 grief; for you require not words to inform you, 
 how deeply I share in your bitter cup of sorrow. 
 I am afraid I have grieved too much, and been 
 selfishly saying, such a friend as I have lost, the 
 world cannot make up to me; not sufficiently 
 considering the far greater loss which you, dear 
 Sir, have sustained : in the best of wives, and one 
 of the brightest ornaments of Christianity. But 
 the work assigned her by unerring Wisdom on 
 earth was accomplished ; and you have been enabled 
 to give her up, and kiss the rod with a firm depend- 
 ance upon the wisdom, power, and goodness of 
 God, proving that though cast down, not destroyed: 
 cleaving to him still as the anchor and support of 
 your soul ; and he will continue to be so, although 
 for the present the turbulent billows are passing 
 over your soul. 
 
208 
 
 " I have dwelt much of late as applicable to 
 her for whom I must weep, on St. Paul's words, 
 Rom. viii. 18, ' For I reckon that the sufferings 
 of this present time are not worthy to be compared 
 with the glory which shall be revealed !' and now 
 has been revealed to her rejoicing sight ! ! ! 
 
 " May the wish which she has bequeathed me, 
 and seconded by you, be blessed as a fresh incite- 
 ment to urge my cold dull heart, to strive more ear- 
 nestly than ever; to be ready when the summons 
 comes to meet her at the right hand of God, and join 
 in triumphant songs of hosannah to the Son of 
 David. It soothed my heart to learn from Mr. 
 Matheson, that the Lord so eminently assisted you in 
 going through the public duties of last Lord's day: 
 you were much on our heart at that period, we 
 trusted He would be with you. He will always be 
 with you, — He will never leave you, never, never, 
 forsake you, till you finish your course and join 
 her who is now before the throne. 
 
 " We do share in your grief, we pray for your 
 consolation, but God alone can heal your wounds. 
 To Him I commit you, and am, much esteemed 
 and very dear Sir, 
 
 ''Your sympathizing and affectionate, 
 
 <* M. C. T R." 
 
209 
 
 " Avoch, October 3d, 1828. 
 
 " My dear Sir, 
 " It was with the deepest sorrow, for the loss 
 sustained by the poor congregational churches in 
 Scotland, and with heartfelt sympathy for you, that 
 I heard of the accident that happened to you, 
 Mrs. Ewing, and your other friends, and of the 
 subsequent death of our dear and valuable friend 
 Mrs. Ewing. Of her it might be truly said, that 
 she was a mother in Israel. She was a succourer 
 of many, and of me also ; and in her, I may say, 
 that I and my family, have lost our best friend in 
 the world ; for there was not another individual 
 alive, that took such an interest in us, or did so 
 much for us, as she did, since I had the happiness 
 of being introduced to her acquaintance. But Oh ! 
 what a joyful consideration, that our temporal loss 
 is her eternal gain, and how should it enhance the 
 value of the gospel in our esteem ; when we are 
 assured that they, who sleep in Jesus, God will 
 bring with him. Hence we are not left to mourn 
 as those that have no hope, for blessed are the 
 dead, who die in the Lord, for from henceforth 
 they shall rest from their labours, and their works 
 shall follow them. In a short time all the true fol- 
 lowers of the Lamb, shall meet in that place where 
 there is no more sin, curse, or death, where the 
 pangs of separation shall never be felt, by the 
 kindred spirits of saints — and where sorrow and 
 
210 
 
 sighing shall have no place — but where He, in 
 whose strength they have fought and conquered, 
 shall set them up as pillars in the temple of his 
 God, never more to go out. I rejoice to think that 
 under your heavy bereavement, and bodily afflic- 
 tion, you have such consolations to support you ; 
 and besides this I am sure that as far as the sym- 
 pathies and prayers of brethren in Christ are a 
 comfort to a believer under affliction, this comfort 
 is yours to a great extent. It is my earnest prayer 
 that the God that did deliver, and doth deliver, 
 may yet deliver you, and spare you to be a bless- 
 ing in the important sphere in which he hath call- 
 ed you to move. My brother requests of me to 
 say, that he feels deeply interested in your trial, 
 and wishes to be remembered to you in the most 
 affectionate manner. Accept of this from us as a 
 token of Christian sympathy and affection. 
 " I am, my dear Sir, 
 
 " Yours in the bonds of the gospel, 
 " Alexr. Dewar." 
 
 " Dumfries, Oct. 3d, 1828. 
 
 " Dear and esteemed Sir, 
 
 " It was with much concern, that we heard of 
 
 the recent afflictive accident, that occurred to you, 
 
 and other friends, and the subsequent removal of 
 
 Mrs. Ewing, by death, occasioned by that accident. 
 
 " As a church we deem it a duty we owe to the 
 
211 
 
 memory, as well as from our deep respect for you, 
 to express our sincere condolence with you, under 
 the present, afflictive, bereaving, dispensation, with 
 which our heavenly Father hath seen meet to visit 
 you. In the removal of Mrs. Ewing, the churches 
 have sustained a common loss, and we believe it 
 is felt as such ; but the loss they have sustained is 
 nothing when compared with yours. May the 
 Father of mercies, who has been to you the ' God 
 of all comfort,' sustain you, under the power of this 
 darkness, and enable you in every remembrance 
 of your affliction, to repose with unquestioning 
 submission, on his wisdom, faithfulness, and un- 
 changing love. 
 
 " While you must feel, and mourn, the loss 
 you have sustained, it is cause of thanksgiving to 
 God, that you have not reason to mourn, as those 
 who have no hope, but rather, as it respects her 
 who is departed, to be filled with joy < in all your 
 tribulation.' 
 
 " We will not, dear friend, attempt to comfort 
 you by a multiplication of words, — we cannot 
 comfort you, but God can. — He is the * God of all 
 comfort;' and while we mingle our tears and 
 sympathies with yours, we hope the prayers of our 
 hearts shall ascend to the throne of grace, in vour 
 behalf. 
 
 " May your valuable life be long spared, and 
 your increased usefulness in the service of the 
 
212 
 
 gospel give abundant, and delightful proofs, that 
 even this dispensation has been ordered by the 
 God of all peace, for the purpose of giving new 
 life to ministrations in the gospel of his Son, 
 already lively, by causing a still richer unction of 
 divine influence to rest upon them, and rendering 
 them to thousands the savour of life unto life. 
 
 ** In the name of the church, we sign ourselves 
 yours affectionately, in the bond of the gospel. 
 " Thomas Young, Pastor, 
 ''Robert Armstrong, Deacon,^^ 
 
 "Linlathen, 4th Oct., 1828. 
 " My dear Sir, 
 
 " The Lord hath done it, he who hath loved us 
 and given his Son for us, hath done it. I would 
 bless God with you, for the manifestation which 
 he has given to us of the power of his grace, both 
 in the life, and in the death of her who has been 
 taken hence. — He is faithful to perform above and 
 beyond all our narrow conceptions of his promises 
 of loving care, and consolation, and support to his 
 people, in their hour of need. I have heard how 
 she was supported, and enabled to give glory to 
 God, as she entered the dark valley. The Lord 
 grant unto us that we may be followers of those, 
 who have been followers of Jesus. And when we 
 lament the termination of their usefulness upon 
 earth, and the breaking off for a season of the 
 
213 
 
 interchange of an affection sanctified by the Spirit 
 of God ; and endeared by many remembrances, 
 — let us think of Him who is the resurrection and 
 the life, and in him find everlasting consolation. 
 May the Lord sustain you under this very heavy 
 blow, and give you a double portion of his Spirit, 
 that you may be enabled to comfort others with 
 that comfort, wherewith your own soul has been 
 comforted of the Lord. I feel now very painfully, 
 my not having seen her the last time that I was 
 in the west country. I called two or three times 
 at Carlton-place, in the hope that you might 
 perchance be in town ; and I once set off to visit 
 you in your country residence; but when I 
 arrived in Glasgow, I found myself so oppressed 
 by the heat, that I made up my mind to defer it, 
 alas ! to another occasion, and returned home, 
 — but we shall meet, I trust, where there is no 
 parting. 
 
 "I am sure that the deep sympathy of our affec- 
 tionate friend, Mr. S g, must have been a 
 
 great consolation to you. And, indeed, though 
 you are the chief mourner here, — yet you have 
 many true mourners in your train. I am not 
 sure that I know a single individual, whose loss 
 could be so much felt. The combination of so 
 much kindness, and judgment, and activity, with 
 piety, is rare in the world, and cannot be taken 
 from the world without leaving a painful void 
 
214 
 
 in the feelings of many. Wishing you much 
 spiritual increase, 
 
 " I remain, my dear Sir, yours affectionately, 
 
 « T. Erskine." 
 
 " London, 31, Bedford Square, East, 
 « 6th October, 1828. 
 
 " My dear Sir, 
 
 " The notice in the newspapers and magazines 
 of the heavy affliction with which you have been 
 visited, has affected me much ; and had it not 
 been for the fear of intruding upon you with a 
 letter, at a time which must have been of all others 
 to you most sacred, I should have written you 
 ere now, to assure you how deeply I feel for you, 
 under the loss you have sustained ; and how truly 
 I sympathize with you, and your fellow-sufferers, 
 who have survived the recent melancholy accident. 
 
 " The disinterested and Christian kindness 
 which I experienced during my residence in Glas- 
 gow, from Mrs. Ewing, in common with yourself, 
 has made an impression on my mind which will 
 never be effaced; and the simple recollection of 
 it, at this moment, causes me to feel as if, by the 
 death of your beloved partner, 1 had lost a mother. 
 She was, indeed, a mother to many in Israel, who 
 will deplore, not her loss (for she has gained the 
 crown of glory that awaits the faithful), but your 
 loss and their own. Full well do I know how 
 
215 
 
 all the ministers of our connexion in Scotland, 
 as well as some in England, will be affected at the 
 sad intelligence already communicated to them. 
 It must afford a melancholy pleasure and satisfac- 
 tion to your mind, under your present distress, to 
 reflect on the estimation in which Mrs. Ewing was 
 held by all who knew her, and by none more than 
 the ministers of the word, who have so often been 
 entertained and edified under your hospitable roof. 
 The ardour of her soul, notwithstanding the weak- 
 ness of her bodily frame, her inextinguishable zeal 
 for the glory of God, her inflexible integrity, her 
 uniform consistency, her thirst for doing good in 
 every possible vv^ay, her benevolent regard for the 
 poor and distressed, her devoted attachment to 
 Christ, to his cause, and to his people, I often 
 witnessed with admiration. These traits of her 
 character, indeed, were visible to all, and worthy 
 of imitation by all who knew her, or who shall 
 ever hear of her: but many other excellencies 
 doubtless you must have had opportunity of observ- 
 ing which others had not. 
 
 ** How inscrutable are the ways of Jehovah ! 
 That one so eminent for piety, and so useful to 
 the church, should be snatched away so suddenly 
 and unexpectedly; after enduring, too, as she must 
 have done, such excruciating pain ; although it 
 was but for a few days only ! But the excellent 
 of the earth are not exempted from the calamities 
 
216 
 
 of life — on the contrary, theirs is frequently a cup 
 of bitterness, of which others know little or nothing. 
 'The wicked have no bands in their death.' 
 Yet what a blessing is it, that though our bodies 
 may be tortured with racking pains, our souls at 
 last shall depart in peace. Such was the case, I 
 have good reason to believe, in regard to your 
 dear departed wife. But I should like to have a 
 few particulars on this subject, if j^ou, or any of 
 your friends, would take the trouble to furnish me 
 with them, as I have informed my people, that I 
 intend to improve Mrs. Ewing's death, next 
 Lord's day morning, in my own place. My text 
 I believe will be Judges v. 7, last clause, ' A mother 
 in Israel/ 
 
 "I earnestly trust that you and your dear 
 friends, who suffered along with you, are recover- 
 ing, or already recovered from your bruises. Re- 
 questing the favour of a few lines from you, if you 
 are able to write, 
 
 " Believe me, my dear Sir, 
 
 " Yours very truly and affectionately, 
 
 " Ebenezer Miller." 
 
 It was not in the power of the grateful receiver 
 to comply with the request of this letter. — The 
 sermon mentioned has since been published, from 
 which an extract is subjoined. 
 
 " While she loved all who bore the image of 
 
217 
 
 Christ, she manifested an especial regard for those 
 whom she ever identified with the prosperity 
 of the Redeemer's kingdom on earth, viz. the 
 Ministers of the Everlasting Gospel She respected 
 and loved them ' for their work's sake,' and ' for 
 the truth's sake which dwelleth in them.' The 
 interest she felt in them and their work was strong 
 and intense, and led her to adopt every means 
 within her reach for promoting their temporal and 
 spiritual welfare. In this respect she much resem- 
 bled some of her own sex, whose names are hon- 
 ourably recorded in the Book of life ; particularly 
 those occurring in Romans xvi. (e. g.) Phcebe, the 
 servant of the church at Cenchrea, of whom Paul 
 says, ' She hath been a succourer of many and of 
 myself also ;' — or Priscilla, who, with her husband 
 Aquila, was * a helper' to the apostle * in Christ 
 Jesus ;' or the beloved Persis, * who laboured much 
 in the Lord ;' or those who are referred to by the 
 same apostle, in the Epistle to the Philippians, 
 where he says, ' I entreat thee also, true yoke-fellow, 
 help those women which laboured with me in the 
 gospel, with Clement also, and with other my fellow- 
 labourers, whose names are in the Book of life.' 
 
 " It was the summit of Mrs. Swing's ambition, 
 during her pilgrimage on earth, to be useful for 
 God. For this she prayed — for this she labour- 
 ed — for this she lived —for this she made many a 
 persona] sacrifice — and was willing to endure re- 
 
218 
 
 proaches, persecution, and even death itself. She 
 seemed out of her element if she were not doing 
 something that would tell in the great day of 
 account — ^something that would contribute to the 
 salvation of souls, and the advancement of the 
 divine glory. Among other means to promote 
 this end, she commenced, and maintained for a 
 long series of years, a most extensive correspon- 
 dence with the ministers of our different churches 
 throughout thegreater part of Scotland; entertained 
 them in her house with genuine Christian hospita- 
 lity, when they happened to be on a visit to the city 
 where she dwelt; edified them by her godly con- 
 versation, and even inflamed their zeal for the 
 good and glorious cause in which they were engag- 
 ed. Nor ought I to omit noticing the uniform 
 kindness she displayed towards the students of * the 
 Glasgow Theological Academy,' under the care 
 of Mr. Ewing and Dr. Wardlaw, in connexion 
 with which, as most of you are aware, I was privi- 
 leged to pursue my studies preparatory to my en- 
 tering on the work of the Christian ministry. The 
 impressions produced on my mind by the kind 
 and Christian attentions, which, in common with 
 other my fellow-students, I received from that ex- 
 cellent woman, can never be effaced by the hand 
 of time, nor by any, or all of the vicissitudes of 
 life. And I cannot but rejoice at having an op- 
 portunity of thus publicly testifying the regard 
 
219 
 
 which I bear to the memory of one to whom I 
 feel under unspeakable obligations, and who might 
 well be numbered among ' the excellent of the 
 earth/ as she is now, we doubt not, numbered 
 with *the spirits of the just made perfect' in 
 heaven. Her loss will be long and deeply felt by 
 all who knew her worth, by nearly every minister 
 and church of the Independent denomination in 
 Scotland; by many also in England and other 
 parts of the world, and by none more than her 
 afflicted surviving partner, and her numerous rela- 
 tives and friends. The place she has vacated will 
 not easily be supplied. But while we mourn our 
 loss, and that of the church generally, occasioned 
 by the death of a person so estimable and useful, 
 and by the removal from this world of a living 
 example so bright ; we ought also to rejoice at her 
 ' unspeakable gain.* For * blessed are the dead who 
 die in the Lord: yea, saith the Spirit, that they 
 may rest from their labours, and their works do 
 follow them.' She is now freed from a body of sin 
 and death. Her pure and happy spirit is already 
 before the throne of the great Eternal. She is 
 reaping the reward of her labours, beholding the 
 glory of her God, and tuning her harp of gold 
 to sing her Saviour's dying love, and to celebrate 
 the praises of his rich and free, and matchless 
 grace." 
 
220 
 
 " Edinburgh, 7th Oct., 1828. 
 " My dear Sir, 
 " I embrace the first opportunity in my power 
 after arriving from the south, to unite in those 
 expressions of deep and affectionate sympathy 
 which your recent loss must have called from 
 many to whom the memory of our departed friend 
 is dear. My dear Sir, I could not venture to 
 refer to an event which has come so near to your 
 happiness and your tenderest affections, were I not 
 assured that you have abundantly known the 
 strong consolations of heavenly love. O yes, we 
 sorrow not as others who have no hope ! We 
 have words by which we may comfort one another. 
 On these words the Father of mercies, blessed be 
 his name, has caused us to hope. He has spoken 
 them effectually to his people's hearts by his own 
 teaching. And is not this a ground for over- 
 whelming gratitude? Have not the great and 
 attractive realities which He has discovered been 
 better than life to us amidst its best enjoyments, 
 and have they not a preciousness which affliction 
 only enhances ? Yea, in all these things we are 
 more than conquerors. O what a victory is this ! 
 a victory over sin, over tribulation, over the world, 
 over evil in every shape, over death itself — a vic- 
 tory through divine strength, through the blood of 
 the Lamb, through the hope of the glory that shall 
 
221 
 
 be revealed. Let us then but look at ' things 
 unseen and eternal,' and not at ' things seen and 
 temporal,' and our afflictions shall appear to us, 
 as they are, but light afflictions which are only for 
 a moment. 
 
 " I only suggest a few thoughts, dear and re- 
 spected Sir, into which you, I know, have entered 
 much more deeply. The trial itself cannot be 
 joyous, but grievous, exceeding grievous. The 
 stroke has been felt very deeply by all to whom 
 your beloved relative was known — but whose sor- 
 row can be like yours, who best knew her value 
 as a Christian and a friend? Yet still we must 
 say, the Lord hath done it — and it must be well. 
 It must be well, it must be best, for you, for other 
 relatives, for the church of God to which she was 
 so eminently useful. This we cannot understand ; 
 but still so it must be. The Lord reigneth, and 
 his reign is one of wisdom, love, and faithfulness — 
 yea, it is the government of none other than our 
 great High Priest, who is in all things touched 
 with the feeling of our infirmities. O that we 
 may still then rejoice in the Lord, and joy in the 
 God of our salvation ! 
 
 " I remember with much gratitude and affection 
 Mrs. Ewing's uniform kindness to myself — and 
 indeed, who cannot say the same who had much of 
 the pleasure of her acquaintance ? In England, 
 the concern and sympathy expressed was general.. 
 
222 
 
 Dr. Clunie, at whose house I staid, begged me 
 particularly to express his sincere condolence with 
 you in your present affliction. I trust that our 
 gracious Lord will continue to support your mind, 
 and prolong through many years your health and 
 usefulness. But to what quarter shall we look for 
 a reparation of this breach ? I trust we shall learn 
 at least this lesson, to have our eyes more towards 
 the Lord, and to seek more earnestly prosperity 
 from Him. With best regards to Miss Cathcart, 
 who, I am happy to hear, is recovering, 
 " I am, my dear Sir, yours, 
 " With respect and affection, 
 
 " Gilbert Wardlaw." 
 
 " Leith, 8th October, 1828. 
 " My dear Sir, 
 " I have hitherto delayed writing in the expec- 
 tation of being able to go to Glasgow and having 
 the satisfaction of seeing you, when I might have 
 an opportunity of expressing my feelings of sorrow 
 and sympathy with you, under the heavy calamity 
 by which in the will of our heavenly Father, 
 you have been so greatly afflicted. — We rejoice to 
 hear from all quarters that you have been wonder- 
 fully supported throughout, but it does not surprise 
 us. He is faithful who has promised. — His grace 
 will enable you to act and suiFer in character, and 
 you will be abundantly comforted with the conso- 
 
223 
 
 lations which you have long been accustomed to 
 address to others. In affliction there is a blessed 
 fellowship among believers, — and a mysterious 
 identity with their great Head, which give a gran- 
 deur to our trivial and temporary sufferings, — a 
 sweetness and a solemnity, such as the scriptures 
 describe, when the apostle speaks of glorying in 
 tribulation, — but the world knoweth it not. How 
 it brings us nearer — and renders us dearer to one 
 another ! The feeling of increased interest in 
 you, which I have within these few weeks expe- 
 rienced, has no doubt been felt by all your Christian 
 friends ; and the extraordinary and extensive ex- 
 citement which has been produced, has I trust 
 been expressed in prayers on your behalf, and will 
 redound to the glory of God. May you be invi- 
 gorated for the service of our Lord and Master, 
 by the painful bereavement and awful visitation 
 you have had!, May you be long spared and 
 greatly strengthened for preaching the everlasting- 
 gospel, — having received an additional and affect- 
 ing charge, where all the considerations of whicli 
 we are sensible are requisite and should be borne 
 upon our minds. So by fearful works in righteous- 
 ness, shall prayer be answered — and the Lord will 
 glorify himself in all the vicissitudes of our pil- 
 grimage through the wilderness. He will supply 
 also all the necessities of his saints — and support 
 his churches in the land. When created streams 
 
224 
 
 are dried up, the fountain still flows. And in re- 
 moving one, however eminent and even singular? 
 he will more than fill her place by raising up many 
 others to minister in Israel. 
 
 " I need not say we all sympathize with you 
 and Miss Cathcart most deeply ; my mother par- 
 ticularly desires me to express for her the great 
 concern she has felt. We were in the country 
 w^hen the first accounts came, — the health of my 
 mother and sister requiring a change of air, — (they 
 are now better) — and it was impossible for me to 
 visit Lanark, which otherwise I might have done, 
 in the view of being of service. 
 
 " I beg you to present my regards to Miss 
 Cathcart, and to Mr. and Mrs. C. if they are 
 with you, and remain, my dear Sir, yours affec- 
 tionately, •■ 
 
 "G. D. CULLEN." 
 
 « Alloa, 13th October, 1828. 
 " My very dear Sir, 
 " I write you at present to ascertain how you 
 are in your health and spirits. Having been three 
 weeks from home, I have not had an opportunity 
 of hearing any thing particular respecting you, 
 since I had the melancholy pleasure of seeing you 
 at Lanark. I therefore feel very anxious to know 
 how you have been supported under your severe 
 bereavement. The loss you have sustained is great 
 
225 
 
 and irreparable, but I fondly hope, that that God 
 whose you are, and whom you have long and 
 faithfully served, has proportioned his grace to. 
 your heavy trial. O what a sudden and sad blank 
 has been made in society in general, and in our 
 body, in particular, by the removal of dear Mrs. 
 Ewing to a better world. Were it not for the 
 well grounded hope that our loss is her great and 
 unspeakable gain, we should be tempted to arraign 
 the wisdom and the goodness of God. But the Lord 
 reigneth, and his grace enables us to say, he gives 
 and he takes away, blessed be his name. He is 
 possessed of infinite wisdom, therefore he cannot 
 err ; He is possessed of boundless goodness, there- 
 fore he cannot be unkind ; and as he is possessed 
 of almighty power, he is able to carry into effect 
 all the promises of his word for the security, the 
 direction, and the comfort of his own people. 
 While we deplore the loss we have sustained in 
 the death of one who was a succourer of many, 
 and of myself also, I have been gratified by observ- 
 ing the heartfelt sympathy for you manifested in 
 every place. When I mentioned the death of dear 
 Mrs. Ewing to the church under my care, the 
 whole body burst into tears. We afterwards made 
 you the subject of our prayers, and I fondly hope 
 that the Father of mercies heard us on that occa- 
 sion, and granted you the consolations of his Holy 
 Spirit. 
 
 K 
 
226 
 
 " On the 23d ult. I attended the annual meet- 
 ing of the association of our ministers belonging 
 to Fifeshire and the neighbour counties. The 
 circumstances of Mrs. Evving's demise being men- 
 tioned, and prayer offered in your behalf, the fol- 
 lowing resolution was unanimously agreed to : 
 
 " Resolved, — * That this meeting has just heard 
 of the distressing accident that has befallen Mr. 
 Ewing and his friends : — as also of the loss sus- 
 tained by Mr. Ewing, by our churches — and the 
 world in the death of Mrs. Ewing; — that all the 
 members of our association present, do sincerely 
 feel for Mr. Ewing, and pray that the great Head of 
 the church may uphold him in this his day of trial, 
 and make all grace to abound ; — and, that Mr. 
 Hill of Alloa, be requested to communicate to 
 their highly esteemed friend Mr. Ewing, their 
 sense of his heavy calamity, and their deep felt 
 sympathy with him under the same.' 
 
 " I know not, my very dear Sir, if there is any 
 way by which I can be of use to you. If there is, 
 you have only to command me. If preaching a 
 day for you, would be any relief to you, you have 
 only to say when my services are required, and I 
 will gladly attend to the same. My obligations to 
 you are such as never to be repaid ; but I pray 
 that you may be repaid at the resurrection of the 
 just. I do with deep felt sorrow enter into your 
 present circumstances of distress, and I desire to 
 
227 
 
 be a follower of her who now through faith and 
 patience, is inheriting the promises. 
 
 " I shall take it kind, if you will write me at 
 your earliest conveniency, stating any particulars 
 relative to our dear departed friend ; as also how 
 you are supported under your heavy affliction. 
 
 " Praying, that grace, mercy, and peace may 
 be imparted to you in rich abundance, 
 " I am, 
 
 " My very dear Sir, yours, very affectionately, 
 
 " J. Hill." 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 " We are frequently- taught by painful expe- 
 rience, that the procedure of our Heavenly Father 
 is mysterious : but still it is an unspeakable mercy, 
 that all the bitter ingredients in our cup, are 
 mingled by a Father's hand, and that they are all 
 designed to promote our spiritual good. The day 
 of trial has a tendency to convince us that the help 
 of man is vain, and that God alone can afford sup- 
 port and comfort; but there is something pecu- 
 liarly soothing in the reflection, that we have real 
 friends, who tenderly sympathize with us, and who, 
 were it possible, would willingly bear a part of our 
 burdens. God has graciously blessed you with a 
 large share in the affections and in the prayers of 
 his people, and although they cannot make up 
 the loss which you have sustained, yet we trust 
 
228 
 
 that in answer to their united supplications, the 
 Lord will afford you such a measure of his spirit, 
 as will enable you to glorify him, by submitting 
 to this painful part of his procedure with Christian 
 patience and resignation, and that He will over- 
 rule this very trying bereavement, for promoting 
 the spiritual improvement of many who may 
 thereby be practically taught to gird up the loins 
 of their minds, and to walk as strangers and pil- 
 grims in this uncertain world. Do not, dear Sir, 
 indulge and feed grief by habitually dwelling on 
 what you may consider the aggravating circum- 
 stances connected with your loss. It is wise to 
 rise above instruments and second causes to that 
 God, without whose permission a sparrow cannot 
 fall to the ground. The cloud has a bright, as 
 well as a dark side. The hope of a blessed resur- 
 rection, when all who have fallen asleep in Christ 
 shall meet to part no more, has a cheering influ- 
 ence when called to part with pious friends, who 
 were dear to us as our own souls. There is a melan- 
 choly pleasure in parting with pious friends, even 
 in the most trying circumstances. In such a case, 
 death wants the sting. It is but the shadow of 
 death ; a temporary, and perhaps a short separa- 
 tion. May the Lord grant you all that consola- 
 tion which the prospect of a joyful meeting and 
 an everlasting enjoyment is calculated to afford. 
 Our object in sending you these few lines, is 
 
229 
 
 simply to express our sincere sympathy and affec- 
 tion towards you, while the Lord is calling you to 
 pass through the deep waters of adversity. Hav- 
 ing lately met at Frazerburgh, it appeared from 
 conversation on the painful event which has taken 
 place, that we had all resolved to write you as 
 soon as you could be supposed to be capable of 
 attending to any kind of business, and as we had 
 the prospect of soon meeting again at Peterhead, 
 we considered it preferable to unite in our expres- 
 sion of sympathy. When the painful tidings 
 reached this part of the country, they produced a 
 very deep impression on the minds of those, who, 
 from personal acquaintance, or by report, could 
 form a proper judgment of the loss which the 
 cause of God had sustained. We felt assured that 
 our loss was her gain ; but still the thought re- 
 curred again and again, how can her place be filled, 
 or the loss made up to her partner in life, or to the 
 churches in whose prosperity she took such a lively 
 interest? W^e have often proposed the anxious 
 inquiry to one another, How you could be enabled 
 to bear the heavy stroke, without unfitting you for 
 the many important duties which devolve upon 
 you ? the Lord has in part dissipated our unbe- 
 lieving fears, by the reports which have reached us 
 of the peculiar support which the Lord has afford- 
 ed you. May you continue to obtain increasing 
 evidence of the truth of His promise, " that his 
 
230 
 
 grace shall be made sufficient for you," that as you 
 have been honoured to direct and encourage many 
 in the day of their calamity by your instructions, 
 you may now be enabled to do so by your ex- 
 ample. Sympathy is best learned in the school of 
 affliction ; and we trust that you will be peculiarly 
 fitted to comfort others by those consolations 
 wherewith you are comforted of God. There is 
 often a sad mixture of selfishness in our grief for 
 our departed friends. It has been said with truth, 
 that were the Lord to consult the inclinations of 
 his people, eminent and useful Christians would 
 never get to heaven. Had our brethren in the 
 ministry, or many others, got their will, we verily 
 believe your dear partner had been among the last 
 to reach the haven of rest. It has been said, that 
 though a wish could bring back their friends from 
 the land of glory, the people of God would not 
 indulge that wish; you could not safely trust your- 
 self, nor could those who are so deeply sensible of 
 your loss, be trusted on this point. It is our 
 mercy, and that of our departed friends, that our 
 gracious Redeemer keeps the management of this 
 delicate matter in his own hand. We are prone 
 to say in our haste, like the afflicted patriarch, 
 * All these things are against us,' but the day is 
 approaching when we shall say from the heart, 
 ' the Lord has done all things well.' There is a 
 need be, for our being frequently in heaviness 
 
281 
 
 while passing through this world of sin ; but the 
 trial of our faith will be found to the honour of 
 Christ at last. If, through free mercy, we reach 
 the land of perfect purity, felicity, and glory, we 
 shall then see cause to bless God for our severest 
 afflictions. Patience must now have her perfect 
 work, and we are called to honour God by trust- 
 ing him in the midst of dark providences. That 
 the Lord may graciously support you, and enable 
 you to do and bear his holy will with cheerfulness 
 and fortitude, that he may grant you a large mea- 
 sure of the consolations of His spirit, and render 
 you increasingly useful in his vineyard, is the 
 earnest desire and prayer of, dear Sir, 
 
 " Your affectionate brethren, 
 
 "James Robertson, 
 Joseph Gibb, 
 Alexander Begg, 
 James Scott, 
 John M'Robert, 
 William Legg, 
 P. L. Anderson." 
 
 « Edinburgh, October 20th, 1828. 
 
 " My very dear Sir, 
 
 " The severity of the indisposition under which 
 
 I have been labouring for nearly two months — and 
 
 which greatly increased during the last month — 
 
 will plead my apology for not having, ere now 
 
232 
 
 expressed in a personal communication to your- 
 self,— the reality and depth of my sympathy in 
 the very heavy affliction, with which it has pleased 
 an infinitely wise and gracious God to visit you. 
 But you are not alone, my dear Sir, in the expe- 
 rience of its pressure. No — and I can say it with 
 the greatest truth, — that amid the list of dear and 
 valued Christian friends — and these, by the kind- 
 ness of God, have not been few — whose removal I 
 have had to mourn — there is not an individual whose 
 loss I have so deeply felt and deplored, as that of 
 my highly valued friend — your dearly and justly 
 beloved spouse. When I think of the purity and 
 the strength of her Christian principles — the deep 
 and the tender interest she took in the comfort 
 and well-being of those of our brethren who were 
 placed in circumstances which called for the exer- 
 cise of Christian benevolence towards them — and 
 above all, when I think of her holy, ardent, and 
 unwearied zeal, in devising and prosecuting those 
 plans of usefulness, which, by the blessing of God, 
 have been productive of so much benefit in pro- 
 moting both the temporal and spiritual interests 
 of her fellow-creatures — I cannot but regard this 
 dispensation as one of the heaviest strokes with 
 which the members of the Congregational Union 
 have been visited. The deep interest she took, from 
 the beginning, in every thing connected — not merely 
 with the success of the great and general objects of 
 
S33 
 
 that Union, but in the individual prosperity and 
 comfort of all its members — will never, I am persuad- 
 ed, be effaced from the minds of those, who at any 
 time, had access to the privilege of her society. — 
 Oh ! my dear Sir, I have thought more frequently 
 and though I cannot say more highly, yet I can 
 say more tenderly and affectionately of her, since 
 she has been taken from us, than I did before. — 
 And though I do most tenderly sympathize with 
 you — and participate in the grief you experience 
 in the recollection of your loss — I yet feel, and I 
 rejoice to know, that you also feel, that there is 
 something inexpressibly soothing in the very cir- 
 cumstances of her death. Oh ! what a happiness — 
 that she who had so adorned the doctrine of her 
 God and Saviour during her life, was enabled so 
 to glorify him in her death — ^a death, the circum- 
 stances of which were all adjusted — and, Oh, that 
 is a consoling thought ! — all adjusted, in the very 
 manner and order in which they occurred from 
 everlasting. And now, what remains, my dear 
 friend, but that you and we, in reliance on the 
 grace of Christ, study, with renewed zeal and 
 energy, to follow her footsteps ; pressing onwards 
 towards the goal, till, by the experience of the same 
 mercy, we also attain the glorious prize ! — And 
 then. Oh, how transporting the thought, of meeting 
 her — and all our beloved friends who have fallen 
 asleep in Christ, around the throne, and participat- 
 
234 
 
 ing with them in an everlasting song of praise, * unto 
 Him, who hath loved us and washed us from our 
 sins in his own blood,' — and then, with them, we 
 shall look back on all the way by which the Lord 
 our God hath led us — and shall acknowledge that 
 ' He hath done all things well,' and that ' He hath 
 led us by the right way, to the city of eternal 
 
 habitation.' 1 heard from our dear brother 
 
 Wardlaw, (for whose sermon, which I feel happy 
 and thankful he was enabled to print, I send you 
 my best thanks,) that you had experienced some- 
 what of a bilious attack. I hope to hear that you 
 are relieved, when you can find it convenient to 
 send me a few lines. I have much reason to bless 
 the Lord, that He has very graciously delivered 
 me from the more distressing symptoms of my 
 complaint — and that he enabled me to preach 
 yesterday, without experiencing any injury. May 
 He graciously sanctify all our afflictions ! Poor 
 
 Mr. C is suffering from jaundice — and we are 
 
 not without anxiety concerning him, but we have 
 an Almighty Physician, who can easily raise him 
 
 " Mrs. Aikman unites in most affectionate regards 
 to you — and in kindest respects to Miss Cathcart, 
 who we rejoice to hear is so recovered. 
 " I ever am, my dear Sir, 
 *' Very affectionately yours, 
 
 " John Aikman." 
 
235 
 
 « October 25th, 1828- 
 " My dear Sir, 
 " I fear this letter may intrude on your sorrow- 
 ful hours; and it is merely to gratify my own feel- 
 ings, for you require not my feeble testimony to 
 
 departed worth The dear saint has left many 
 
 friends to mourn, and also to rejoice in her hap- 
 piness. Her kindness to myself was such as I 
 never can forget ; and I always parted from her 
 instructed and animated. She united all that is 
 admirable in Christian character ; and her sound 
 judgment was my great admiration. When with 
 her, I always regretted when any one else spoke 
 however excellent, for to me there was a charm in 
 her words — kindness from one so superior humbled 
 me.— She was in all things an example, and 
 although what I am about to mention is certainly 
 a very secondary thing, yet it did add to the per- 
 fection of the dear saint's character, — that she was 
 a lady in manners Such an example of holy liv- 
 ing, and happy dying, is left for good to many. I 
 hope, I doubt not, you will be comforted by Him 
 who gave you the blessing of such a wife ; and to 
 whose happiness you so largely contributed when 
 on earth. What a happy meeting it will be in a 
 better world, when you are again united to so 
 blessed a companion. I trust your valuable life 
 may long be spared ; and that you may be com- 
 forted. — For myself, I would desire to follow such 
 
236 
 
 bright examples of Christian worth, and to cast in 
 my lot with the people of God, now and for ever. 
 I beg you will pardon the liberty of writing — I 
 was exceedingly gratified with the sermon you 
 sent me — not one word too much said — indeed it 
 
 is not possible to exaggerate on this occasion 
 
 Offer kind sympathy to Miss Cathcart. — I must 
 no longer trouble you. 
 
 " Believe, my dear Sir, 
 " With respect and affectionate sympathy, 
 
 " M. H." 
 
 " Kingsland, near London, Oct. 28th, 1828. 
 " My dear Sir, 
 " When the late dispensation of God to your 
 family was announced to us here, in the Times 
 newspaper, it excited no ordinary sympathy 
 towards you, among those who knew you, and not 
 only among them, but also among many others of 
 the family of our Lord, and prayers were offered 
 for you in public, and no doubt by many in pri- 
 vate. Having known her long before your con- 
 nexion with her, as well as afterwards, you may 
 believe I felt acutely, and would have written to 
 you, but I checked myself, believing it would only 
 be an intrusion. You, my dear Sir, may think 
 your case singular, but it is not so much so as you 
 may suppose. Only in my little congregation, one 
 
237 
 
 not less distressing happened, which I only relate 
 to let you know what supported the mind of the 
 survivor, who was the female. 
 
 " The first member received into the church at 
 
 Kingsland after my ordination, was a Mr. S n, 
 
 a stock-broker, lately taken into partnership in an 
 old established house — about 36 years of age, a 
 wife and young family of seven or eight child- 
 ren — a fine looking, and one of the most amiable 
 of men, wonderfully beloved by our school child- 
 ren — a man from whom I expected much assistance 
 in useful schemes. The couple had been married 
 about ten years, and never had taken one trip to- 
 gether to the country all that time — at length they 
 fixed on spending a holiday in June at Hornsey, 
 a few miles beyond Kingsland — it was on a Wed- 
 nesday — Mrs. S. told my cousin Miss Campbell, 
 afterwards Mrs. Dr. Meikle, India, a week before, 
 of the pleasure they expected on their first trip 
 since marriage, if it should turn out a good day. 
 The day was lovely, they had dinner and tea at 
 Hornsey, and were returning in time to hear me 
 preach in the evening. Sitting in their gig 
 admiring the surrounding beauties of creation, Mr. 
 S. to give his wife and sister plenty of room, sat 
 on the edge of the gig, holding carelessly the reins 
 of the horse in his hand, let them slip out — in en- 
 deavouring to catch them, he fell out, and the wheel 
 went over the lower part of his back — the horse 
 
238 
 
 went on — wife and sister, with a babe leaped out, 
 screamed — no house in sight — their screams, how- 
 ever, brought a gentleman from behind a wall — 
 an empty hackney coach came up, Mr. S. was put 
 into it. — As I was going to preach, they were car- 
 rying him into his house — I asked who it was — 
 he heard my voice, got hold of my hand, which 
 obliged me to follow him to his bed-room. On 
 being laid on his bed, he cried out — ' I know not 
 what shall be the issue of this, but I see the hand 
 of God in it* — before I left him he threw up much 
 blood — the doctor came; I went to preach — return- 
 ed — he must be kept quiet, and could not be seen. 
 At ten when sitting at supper — two friends came, a 
 
 cashier of the Bank of England, and Mr. R r, 
 
 announcing his death, I ran to his widow — she 
 thought it was a dream. In a day or two she 
 declared to me — ' That if she did not believe that 
 all things were settled and ordered by God, her 
 trial would be unsupportable, she would be saying 
 why did not I and my sister sit closer and give 
 more room to my husband, to prevent him from 
 sitting on the edge of the gig — but I have consider- 
 able peace from believing in God, as the disposer 
 of all things.* God took care of the widow and 
 her children. She died only about two years ago, 
 all the children but one, married, and doing well. 
 " After your painful scene, I observed Dr. Pin- 
 kerton on the Lord's day morning in his own pew in 
 
239 
 
 Kingsland chapel, having just arrived in safety from 
 a tour of four months in Norway, Sweden, Ger- 
 many, &c. Recollecting what had happened in your 
 short trip, I could not but give public thanks for 
 his preservation — when he came into the vestry 
 after it, and I had told him of your trial, he felt 
 keenly, and it seemed to increase his gratitude for 
 the Lord's goodness to him. I thank you for Dr. 
 Wardlaw's sermon on the occasion, which I 
 received last night at the mission house, where Mr. 
 Orme showed me your letter to him — may the God 
 of Jacob be your refuge. I did not know I had the 
 account you gave me of the first Mrs. E wing's happy 
 death, till about six weeks ago I was turning over 
 a 4to Bible, when it was discovered — little did I 
 suspect at the time that you was so soon to send 
 me another. Well, wait a little and all those 
 scenes will become more intelligible, and we shall 
 see and say that all was well. The Lord be with 
 you. Amen. " I am, yours truly, 
 
 " John Campbell." 
 
 " 1, Sidmouth Street, October 31, 1828. 
 
 " My VERY DEAR SiR, 
 
 " I return you my cordial thanks for a copy of 
 our mutual friend Dr. Wardlaw's admirable dis- 
 course, on a most mournful occasion. How greatly 
 my sympathies and those of Mrs. Winter have 
 
240 
 
 been excited by that lamented event, I want words 
 to express. The remembrance of the kind and 
 hospitable attention, which we received from dear 
 Mrs. Ewing, as well as from yourself, three years 
 ago, greatly increased the feeling. And perhaps 
 the circumstance of our reading the earliest intima- 
 tion of the event in the Isle of Wight, amidst the 
 picturesque scenery, and the steep declivities of 
 which, similar calamities have sometimes taken 
 place, and many providential preservations have 
 been experienced, produced a yet greater interest 
 in the awful catastrophe. 
 
 " But, my dear friend, it is your high and dis- 
 tinguishing mercy to be fully assured, that to her 
 to die was gain, as to her to live was Christ. May 
 the ' strong,' the * everlasting consolation' which is 
 provided in the gospel for Christian mourners, be 
 largely poured into your bosom. The recollec- 
 tions which I am sure must mingle with all the 
 scenes of life, and all the engagements of duty, while 
 they are unavoidabl}^ painful, are likewise attended 
 with supporting considerations of what she was, 
 and of what she is and will be. 
 
 " I can most truly join with the preacher, in 
 acknowledging, that with a zeal truly apostolic, 
 although, of course, in a sense different from that 
 of the original declaration, she had the care of all 
 the churches : in our missionary progress through 
 the north of Scotland, previously to our last visit 
 
241 
 
 at Glasgow, it was delightful to hear our good 
 brethren in almost every place speak of the dis- 
 interested and extensive Christian benevolence of 
 Mrs. Ewing. Well might she be called, not for 
 advanced years, but for parental sympathies, and 
 prayers, and instructions, and even laborious and 
 unintermitted exertions, a Mother in Israel. 
 
 " Really in the circumstances of the case, it is 
 far more wonderful, that the lives of all were not 
 terminated, than that only one was. Personally^ 
 you appear to have been less injured than any of 
 the party. I trust that by this time all are greatly 
 recovered. To Miss Cathcart, whose escape was 
 very wonderful, the only one of the company be- 
 sides yourself and Mrs. Ewing whom we knew, 
 we beg to be most kindly remembered. Your 
 daughter and her good husband from Durham Mr. 
 and Mrs. Matheson, are I presume with you, or 
 at least have been. To them, if at Glasgow, also 
 to Dr. Wardlaw and his family, we beg to be 
 kindly remembered also. Farewell my dear 
 friend. The God of hope and consolation be ever 
 with you. 
 
 " Believe me, 
 
 " Your affectionate friend, 
 " And brother, 
 
 " Robert Winter." 
 
S42 
 
 1 « Leaf Square, November 2d, 1828. 
 " My dear Sir, 
 *' I cannot allow the present opportunity, afford- 
 ed me by the return of my young friend, William 
 H n, to his studies, to escape without tres- 
 passing so far on your attention, as briefly, but 
 most sincerely, to express my unfeigned sympathy, 
 on account of the very severe affliction with which 
 our heavenly Father has been pleased so suddenly 
 to visit you. When I was so unfortunate as to 
 find Mrs. Ewing confined to her room, at the time 
 when I had the pleasure of seeing you in Glasgow 
 last year, it did indeed occur to my mind, that I 
 then should, in all probability, never have an op- 
 portunity of seeing her again in this vale of tears, 
 where I had so often witnessed her devoted zeal, 
 and Christian kindness ; but I was immediately 
 consoled by the hope, that we should ere long 
 meet in our Father's house, where all would be 
 bliss and joy, and where we should ' go out no 
 more for ever.' But little, as little as yourself, did 
 I imagine that we should be speedily, and so unex- 
 pectedly summoned to resign her happy spirit to 
 the enjoyment of that felicity, from which, I am 
 sure your own heart, with all its tenderest affec- 
 tion, would never wish to recall her. She cannot 
 return to us ; may we prepare to go to her, and 
 may the recollection, that she has added to the 
 number of the attractions of heaven derived from 
 
S43 
 
 earth, powerfully stimulate our best energies for 
 the glory of our Lord, that, whenever he shall be 
 pleased to send for us, we may be ready to join 
 the blissful circle around the throne, and to cele- 
 brate the praises of redeeming grace for ever and 
 ever. A few more years, perhaps days, and 
 our place here will be no longer occupied by us ; 
 may it be faithfully, and happily filled till then ; 
 and may a better place, even a mansion in heaven, 
 be then enjoyed ; aad may the recollection of * all 
 the way' by which the Lord has led us, then inspire 
 our purest devotions, and swell our notes of praise 
 to the loftiest strains, to the glory of our God and 
 Father. 
 
 " I trust, my dear Sir, that the God of all con- 
 solation has graciously supported your mind under 
 his chastening hand ; and that you have found 
 even in this mysterious dispensation one of those 
 fraught with the richest blessings, and most emi- 
 nently calculated to enable you to ' speak a word 
 in season to him that is weary' and to * comfort the 
 mourners in Zion.' Trusting that it is indeed so 
 with you, and that every revolving year will more 
 abundantly enrich you with that preparation for 
 the joys of heaven, which forms the best guarantee 
 of comfort here and hope hereafter ; and praying 
 that all the kindness which you and Mrs. Ewing 
 so constantly displayed towards the friends of the 
 Redeemer, who, like myself, might, by distance 
 
244 
 
 from beloved relatives, or any other circumstances, 
 require attention or comfort, may be returned 
 seven fold, in richer blessings, on your own heart, 
 and that of your interesting daughter, and on all 
 the endeared objects of her affection, 
 " I remain, my dear Sir, 
 " Your much obliged and devoted Servant, 
 
 J. Clunie." 
 
 From a Friend in England, 
 
 " December 4th, 1828. 
 
 " My dear Miss C t, 
 
 — — " She has exchanged earth for heaven, 
 and I feel sometimes she gives a fresh power to 
 my mind to look to that world of bliss with a 
 fond hope we may meet in those realms of bliss 
 where she now lives for ever. The remembrance 
 of her sweetly Christian life and character seems 
 as a fresh spring to Christian duties. — Oh my 
 heart is sore when I think I shall never more 
 behold her in this world ! Scotland seems to have 
 lost its charms. Oh dear, dear creature ! I shall 
 never behold her fellow here below. — >But we must 
 not dwell on our loss, but think of her unspeak- 
 able gain ; and the time cannot be long, humanly 
 speaking, when, through the abounding merits of 
 the Lord Jesus, we shall meet, I trust, to part no 
 more. May I follow the dear Redeemer as she 
 
245 
 
 followed him ! — I should hope good was done by 
 the dear saint's Christian heroism in death. — Oh 
 that I may meet the King of Terrors with the 
 faith and fortitude she was enabled to do ! We 
 have all fresh cause for adoring the Saviour that 
 gave her such a victory over death. — My heart 
 aches for dear Mr. Ewing; but if affliction is 
 heavy, his comfort in Christ must abound, and 
 though the beloved deceased is absent in body, she 
 is present in spirit, there is joy in heaven over 
 one sinner that repenteth. How great must be 
 the joy of our dearly beloved and glorified 
 friend at the many souls brought, and bringing 
 hourly to the knowledge of the truth through the 
 instrumentality of her dear husband, and all the 
 pastors of the churches of Christ to whom she was 
 indeed a sister. — I beg to be remembered with 
 true love and affection to my dear quondam 
 pastor. 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 « C. P T," 
 
 " Homerton, June 6, 1829. 
 " My dear Sir, 
 "Often have I had unhappy feelings in the 
 reflection that your kindness, in favouring me with 
 Dr. Wardlaw's Sermon and your own Memoir,* has 
 
 * The first Edition. 
 
246 
 
 been so long without acknowledgment. Indeed I 
 have no valid apology to make ; and the cause of 
 a delay, which I reflect upon with so much pain, 
 has simply been the fallacy, which often betrays 
 me, of obtaining a better opportunity and perform- 
 ing the duty in a more satisfactory manner. Yet 
 now, at length, I write hurried, embarrassed, and 
 under circumstances not favourable to my own 
 state of mind. Alas ! what can I say, or suggest ? 
 To detail topics of relief to your mind, bowed down 
 as it must be under the pressureof a privation which 
 it would be most absurd and presumptuous in me 
 to attempt to describe, would be a most superfluous 
 and almost unfeeling procedure. All the sources 
 of consolation, which reason and religion open, 
 must have occurred to your own meditations, or 
 have been presented to you by your numerous par- 
 ticipants in this woe :— and they must have been 
 all unavailing to stop the fountain of grief. You 
 would not wish them to be so availing. To extin- 
 guish your grief would be to rob you of your 
 purest pleasure, next to communion with God. 
 The high thoughts which, in your, I might almost 
 say unexampled, tribulation, upon the nature and 
 consequences of your earthly loss, must be arising 
 ever fresh in your soul, have such an unbroken 
 alliance with the doctrines concerning the covenant 
 of grace, the dominion and love of the Saviour, and 
 the unsearchable ways of paternal providence, that 
 
24T 
 
 the result must be "the joy of grief" in a degree 
 which could rarely be equalled. It seems to me 
 most to resemble the condition of the wife of John 
 Bradford, who, having been refused to visit that 
 holy man in his prison, forced an interview with 
 him on his short walk from Newgate to Smithfield, 
 and there, with her eleven young children, bade him 
 farewell till they should meet in the heavenly glory. 
 " I had not the pleasure of a personal knowledge 
 of Mrs. Ewing, and only once saw her, in a per- 
 fectly transient manner: but, for many years, I 
 have been no stranger to her extraordinary char- 
 acter. The wonderful Italian lady in the sixteenth 
 century, Olympia Fulvia Morata, seems to present 
 the nearest resemblance to your departed compa- 
 nion. Many Christian females have excelled in the 
 tenderness and power of piety, in the heroism of 
 suffering, in the sublime of holy devotedness : but 
 Mrs. Ewing added to those qualities a vigour of 
 mind which could at once grasp a mighty prin- 
 ciple in its magnitude, and at the same time pene- 
 trate its minutest detail and remotest applications. 
 I think I never heard or read of any man, certainly 
 not of any female, who united to so tender and 
 impressive feelings of love to the great essentials of 
 the gospel, in doctrine and experience, such a 
 masterly comprehension of the ecclesiastical consti- 
 tutions of the New Testament ; yet not viewing 
 those arrangements with the fondness of a partisan, 
 
248 
 
 but entirely under their proper aspect, as divine 
 appointments harmonizing with the grand designs 
 of revealed grace. When was before known such 
 a combination in one mind, without making the 
 one class of truths trench upon the other ? In 
 relation to the former, confessedly the pre-eminent, 
 we have had our Whitefield, and Scott, and Wil- 
 berforce, and Hannah More, and many in the 
 inferior degrees yet worthy of their association : but 
 how confined, incoherent, and even ignorant were 
 and are their ideas upon the latter department of 
 scriptural investigation ? 
 
 " Let us then say that, in proportion to the emi- 
 nence and peculiarity of the endowments with 
 which the Father of lights had enriched your ines- 
 timable fellow heir of the grace of life, should 
 gratitude for her having lived, and lived to so useful 
 purpose, supersede our lamentation that earth holds 
 her no longer. Innumerable facts in the history 
 of the church show that our adorable Sovereign 
 rarely allows his choicest instruments to continue 
 very long in the wear and tear and trials of morta- 
 lity. Faith will say, « He hath done all things 
 well ;' while it is no degradation of that faith to 
 weep as Jesus did at Bethany. Yea ; by such an 
 association faith is actually and greatly invigorated. 
 It seems to be almost able to draw aside the veil, 
 and even now to penetrate into ' the unseen and 
 eternal.' That these celestial benefits may, in a 
 
249 
 
 very high and glorious degree, be yours, is the 
 cordial and sympathizing prayer of my dear Mrs. 
 Smith and myself; who unites with me also in the 
 most respectful remembrance. May the richest 
 grace fill your soul more and more ! 
 ** I am, my dear Sir, 
 
 " Yours in sincere affection, 
 
 " J. PyE SxMITH." 
 
 THE END. 
 
 E. Khull & Son, Printers, 8, East Clyde Street, Glasgow. 
 
.^'.Zl^P.! T''™!"?'"! Seminary-Speer L,brar< 
 
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