Memoir of Mary Lundie Duncan : being recollections of a daughter, by her mother

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Cfkv

FROM THE LIBRARY OF

REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D.

BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO

THE LIBRARY OF

PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY

MEMOIR

*0

MARY LUNDIE DOCAN:

RECOLLECTIONS OF A DAUGHTER

BY HER MOTHER.

SIXTH EDITION.

EDINBURGH: WILLIAM OLIPIIANT AND SONS.

LONDON : HAMILTON, ADAMS, AND COMPANY.

MDCCCLIV.

No tears for thee — though our lone spirits mourn
That thou with spring's sweet flowers wilt ne'er return.
No tears for thee — though hearth and home are blighted,
Though sadness clouds the scenes thy love has lighted.
No tears — for, while with us, thy soul, opprest,
Oft longed for refuge in thy Saviour's breast.
No tears — for thou hast found thy home above.
No tears— thou'rt sheltered in the arm9 of love.

>i I' Rl. AY AND GIBP PRINTERS, F.DINBURGB

IL

PREFACE.

This little Work treats of the initiatory steps of an im-
mortal being — steps, feeble and insignificant if viewed
alone, but assuming value and importance when con-
sidered as terminating in an eternal destiny. By such
steps is each human course commenced, and such is
the solemn result involved in its mortal termination.
The chief benefit derived from Christian biography, is
its exhibiting to the eye the image of Christ in the
character of his servant, the manner in which that
blessed image first began to be formed, and the various
means and incidents which contributed to its advance-
ment towards perfection.

Growth is the only sure token of healthy spiritual
life. The soul has its winter and its spring times, its sea-
sons of seeming check and deadness, and its seasons of
shooting upward from the earthly towards the heavenly
character. A faithful writer remarks, that " the soul
may suppose itself acquainted with its corruption in
its length and breadth, while, perhaps, it has only
moistened its lips at the bitter cup, and may subse-

NOTE TO THE FIFTH EDITION.

An Appendix seems rather injurious to the unity of a
book ; besides, it is the part most frequently overlooked
or neglected ; yet it has not seemed possible to avoid
it in this case, as the introduction of the poetry at the
dates of its composition, formed a serious interruption
to the unity of the narrative.

We gladly embrace this opportunity of expressing
our acknowledgments to Horatio M'Culloch, Esq.,
R.S.A., and Messrs Feaser and Co., Publishers, for
permitting a reduced copy of their beautiful view of
Kelso to adorn this Memoir. The view is taken from
a most fortunate point, which combines the varied
charms of the scene, and is peculiarly adapted to this
work, as it embodies the house in which the subject of
it first looked upon the day, together with the objects
which awakened her admiration for the beauties of
nature.

CONTENTS.

Pape

CHAPTER I.

DAYS OF CHILDHOOD, ...... i)

CHAPTER II.

SCHOOL DAYS, ....... 34

CHAPTER III.

HER FIRST AFFLICTION, . . . . .40

CHAPTER IV.

STUDIES AND OCCUPATIONS IN EDINBURGH, .

CHAPTER Y.

CORRESPONDENCE AND DTARY, .... 03

CHAPTER VI.

CORRESPONDENCE, ...... 12C

CHAPTER VII.

VENERABLE CHRISTIAN— VISITS TO THE POOR— REV. JOHN

BROWN PATTERSON, . . . . . 146

8 CONTENTS.

Pa ire

CHAPTER VIII.

DISAPPOINTMENT, AND THE MANNER IN WHICH IT WAS BORNE, 102

CHAPTER IX.

SORROW TURNED INTO THANKFULNESS, . . . 183

CHAPTER X.

A NEW HOME, ....... 202

CHAPTER XL

PAROCHIAL SOLICITUDES — MATERNAL EMOTIONS, . . 2lG

CHAPTER XII.

GROWTH IN LOVE, ...... 246

CHAPTER XIII.

THE MUSE RECALLED — A SON GIVEN — TWO BROTHERS WITH-
DRAWN, ....... 2f)r>

CHAPTER XIV.

SYMPATHY WITH AFFLICTION — MATERNAL LOVE AND

ANXIETIES — INFANTINE RHYMES, . . . 290

CHAPTER XV.

SPIRITUAL REFRESHMENT — DILIGENCE IN DUTY — LAST SAB-
BATH IN GOD'S HOUSE — SICKNESS— SUFFERING— RELIEF
FROM IT FOR EVER, . . . . $06

APPENDIX, 321

MEMOIR.

CHAPTER L

DAYS OF CHILDHOOD.

To those faithful friends, whose affection has longed for
a life of Mary Lundie, it can occasion neither surprise
nor disappointment that this attempt furnishes little of
narrative, and nothing of the character of adventure.
It seems an easy task to detail the events which fill up
the years of a patriot, a warrior, a philanthropist, or a
missionary. Acts of wisdom, of bravery, or of self-
denying benevolence, strike the eye in succession, and
fill the page with that which awakens the zeal or
admiration of the reader. But the early years of a
delicate female, whose preference was to shrink from
public regard, and the full tide of whose powerful and
devoted heart rose to the flood only under the influence
of intellectual and tender attractions, furnish few pro-
minent points, and give the means rather of a slender
sketch than of a filled-up portrait.

It is not adventure that her friends desire ; they
already know her brief story. It is the depths of her
piety that they would fathom ; it is the steps by which
she attained to it that they wish to trace. But here
the difficulty is greater still. Who is informed as to

10 MEMOIR OF

the secret growth of the heart but He who created it ?
Who can read the unseen process of renewing the will,
except the Spirit who hath kept that in his own power?
Instruct with what minute care }tou can, — observe with
what accuracy you may, — still there is something in the
workings of the mind that eludes the ken of the observer.
Our God hath shown us that the knowledge and the
formation of the heart are his own prerogatives. The
mysterious solitude of mind, carrying on its operations
in its own retired cells, and only permitting occasional
loopholes to the observer, by means of a question, a
smile, or a sigh, gives weighty evidence of its superiority
over the material part ; and the mother, who cherishes
and caresses, and lifts up or puts down her offspring at
pleasure, is often as little aware of the internal processes,
as the mother of Jesus could be when she retired in
silence from the holy city to treasure up his sayings,
and ponder them in her heart.

Those who have not been accustomed to minute
observation of infancy, may smile at the notion of
feeling respect for a babe that has not completed its
first twelvemonth. Yet a volatile youth, who was
accustomed to play idle tricks for the diversion of a
train of juvenile relations, said of one little girl of the
group, " I cannot play the fool with that babe, her look
fills me with respect." That babe was removed wThile
still in infancy ; therefore we cannot say whether her
growing years would have confirmed the sentiment.
But the observation is brought to mind in recalling the
infancy of Mary Lundie ; and those who knew her,
know that youth and womanhood in her served but to
strengthen that sentiment. It is true she was the first-
born, and, perhaps on that account, each new attain-
ment was marked with a degree of admiring wonder,

MABY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 11

which the more experienced might fitil to participate ;
but those who were admitted to the sanctuary of the
nursery, may remember how often her benign smiles
were remarked, and how a hood used to be thrown
around her infant features, to exhibit a striking re-
semblance to a portrait of Madame de Guion. The
resemblance in feature was probably imaginary — the
similarity of devotional character seemed, to one deeply
interested observer at least, to run parallel in each stage
of its development, and to have become most of all
complete when nearest the close. Her early love for
flowers ; her delight, even in the first years of child-
hood, in a sunset sky and in vernal breezes ; the poetry
and music of her mind, — were not more in harmony with
the character of that amiable but mistaken woman, than
her strict self-examinations, her severe judgments of
herself, her prayerfulness, and her pity for the poor.

It was in the spring of 1814 that this cherished child
first saw the light, when the orchards that surround
the manse of Kelso were, as her revered and tender
father used to say, " a blaze of blossoms." Mr Lundie's
usual designation of her was, "rny sweet bud born
amongst blossoms." She had not reached her second
year without discerning and sympathizing in his passion
for flowers ; and the cherished enjoyment of both was,
that her tiny hands should furnish the primrose which
was to shine all day in his button-hole.

Those who knew and loved them both, will forgive
the mention of a slight incident, which has been drawn
from its long retreat in the cells of memory by recent
sorrow : — The infant florist had been attracted by a
rich and pearly hyacinth, the pride of the parterre, and,
unconscious of its value, snapt its succulent stem with
all her little force, and tottered to her father's knee,

12 MEMOIR OF

crying out with lively joy, " Pretty fewer, papa ; pretty
lower," The mingling of regret that the splendours of
such a favourite were cut off in the midst, with his
admiration of the taste and energy of the achievement
of the little spoiler, and sympathy with her joy in
making him such a gift, were all expressed in turn ;
and, after regrets and thanks, he resorted to the plan
of cutting the mangled stem and placing it in wrater,
where it stood for many days shedding its decaying
odours. Will it seem unreasonable^that, after a lapse
of more than three-and-twenty years, amid the howling
blast of a sunless day in January, leaning against a
couch on which rested the pale and cold drapery ot
death, one survivor should suddenly have the silver
tones of that fair child recalled, repeating, " Pretty
fower, papa ;" and feel as if the incident had been pro-
phetic of her own early fate 1

With half her blossoms expanded to the extent of
beauty and fragrance, another portion only bursting
into life, and still another scarcely formed into the
rudiment of buds, — there lay the flower, bruised and
broken. Whatever of promise rested on its prolific
spike, never would unfold itself in this nether region.
And what is that survivor doing now, but faintly en-
deavouring to preserve its dying fragrance, that it may
be shed for a shortly extended period on those who
loved, and cherished, and admired the flower.

" O solitary thought, albeit not sad,
Thy vein is less allied to joy than sorrow;
Less prophet than remembrancer, thy scope
Embraces yesterday, but ne'er to-morrow.
Yet, though pale memory be seldom glad,
A truer fonder friend is she than hope."

It may be thought that the cradle and the grave are

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 13

here brought too closely together. But for how brief
a space, even when life is prolonged, are they ever
severed ? How often is their union complete ? and
when the years that intervene, be they many or few,
have been used to accomplish the two great purposes
of our being, — to glorify our God while we live, and to
enjoy his blessed presence when we die, — we need not
shrink from combining the day of our birth with the
day of our death. Many of the letters of mourning
friends, which that sad month of January produced,
referred to scenes and sports of infancy and childhood ;
and from them may be gleaned reminiscences which
are free from the suspicion of parental partiality.

The nurse, whose faithful care for many years aided
in the training of the little family, wrote, on hearing of
Mary's death, i; When I think of all her goodness, when
quite a child, it is the greatest comfort to me. How
very exact she was in her prayers when only a babe !
She was as soon at her Lord's work as any of the
worthies that ever I read of; and I often fancy I see
their pretty white heads kneeling before they went to
bed, — the one that could not speak following the example
of the others." The same truthful chronicler has since
recalled an incident, which occurred about Mary's
fourth year. Her little brother had struck her on the
cheek in a fit of anger. She instantly turned the other
cheek, arid said mildly, " There, Corie." The uplifted
hand was dropt ; and when the child was asked who
taught her to do that, she replied, that she heard papa
read it one morning out of the Bible at prayer time.
This is not only an evidence that this child early gave
her understanding to what was read to her, but a hint
to all parents that it is not a matter of no moment
whether very young children are made to be present at

14 MEMOIR OF

domestic duties ; for not only is the habit acquired of
waiting on God in the way He has appointed, but the
mind, in the midst of its flickering attention, gleans
some precious things, which are stored up amongst its
treasures.

Her reflective habit was evinced by her self-admoni-
tion, when any accident befel her. If she dropt any
thing, or fell herself when running, she used not to cry,
but to say, "Now /see ! " in imitation of nurse, who
used to say, " Now you see," when the neglect of her
warnings was productive of mischief. The manner of the
little reflector was so unusual, so grave, and yet so comic,
that " now I see " became the by- word of the house.

She learned to read so quickly, that her mode of
making the acquisition was scarcely discerned by her
teacher ; so that, long before she was five years old, she
could be quite absorbed in the delights of " George and
his Penny," or, " The Raven and the Dove ; " and it
was not till the more tedious and difficult process of
teaching her brother was encountered, that the fact was
ascertained, of her having exhibited unusual rapidity in
mastering the art.

Her imagination, naturally lively and poetical, would
easily have imbibed a deep tinge of romance, and thus
it became important to guide her early avidity for books
of all descriptions, so as to protect her mind from the
inflammatory influence of works of unprincipled fiction.
This was not difficult in circumstances where any in-
jurious book was easily excluded ; but not quite so
easy was it to deprive indulgent friends of the delight
of pouring into her willing ears the tales she was most
glad to listen to. The effect of these on her early child-
hood was visible instantly, so that a story of a good little
girl, whose goodness seemed to consist in her glossy

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 15

curls, her snow-white frock and blue sash, or in her
leading a pet lamb with a wreath of daisies round its
head, would, for days together, confuse her ideas of what
good and evil consist in.

Her fancy kindled at the description of a May-pole ;
and to this may be traced the style of sports adopted at
her suggestion by a group of play-fellows, some of whom
are now dispersed over the world ; but, with the ex-
ception of herself and her sister, none of whom as yet
have been called to leave it. A letter from her father
describes her bringing in her little brother and sister to
the breakfast table, wreathed round and round with
flowers of her weaving, and called by her " ivy-gods,"
in honour of the jubilee of the expected return of their
mother, after a brief absence. In the midst of her joy-
ful preparations, a letter was brought, stating that the
return was delayed, when, instead of grieving or losing
temper at her disappointment, she instantly addressed
herself to console and amuse the little ones with her usual
sweetness. Another letter describes " Mary as melted
with a story about the sorrows of life, and quite up in
the air, and full of poetry and sentiment, about May-day
gambols." The date of this letter being February 1821,
she was not then seven years of age.

These exhibitions of her early excitability are not
named to prove precocity of talent. Perhaps many girls
are more advanced than she was. The object is rather
to afford an opportunity of showing the measures adopted
to prevent her imagination from outgrowing and injuring
her other mental powers. This was done, not by forc-
ing didactic lectures on her, which would have wearied
without instructing, or more likely have let her attention
loose from her lesson, to wander over the very regions
from which it was desirable she should be withdrawn ;

16 MEMOIR OF

but by giving her histories from real life, scripture, and
others, within her comprehension, such as the " The
True Story-Book," which is the delight of unsophis-
ticated children, and by talking to her always, from
infancy, as if she were a reasonable being. If she had
imagination enough to enkindle her sympathies on the
side of the modest young lady, of whom she was told by a
tale-telling friend, that she went to the ball in simple white
with a lily in her hair, when all the rest were sparkling
in diamonds, etc., etc., she had also good sense enough
to perceive, when it was pointed out to her, that the
M simple white and the lily" were not points of radical
difference, and that, if the occupation and mind were
equally vain, it mattered little whether the parties were
decked in stones or in flowers.

The Sabbath evening occupations are still remembered
with sweet satisfaction by such of the now far dispersed
little company as are alive, and remain ; — and, perhaps,
to describe them may not be without its use. After,
reciting the questions which had been acquired before
morning hours of public worship, "Watts' Infant Cate-
chism being the first, the children repeated in turn,
what verse of a hymn they could, and all sung it to-
gether ; and still the dying cadences of those young, but
well-tuned voices, hang on memory's ear, and still the
happy countenance of that one whose privilege it was
to select the hymn is seen by the mind's eye. Then,
in turn, they repeated any text they knew, and ques-
tioned each other on its meaning, as had been done to
them when first they learned it ; and^when all this was
accomplished, they considered themselves entitled to ask
for a " Sunday story." After being indulged in this,
the story formed subject of inquiry and discussion, and
scripture proof wherein the actors in the story did wrong

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 17

or right The stories were not from scripture history

generally, but anecdotes picked up everywhere. All
this having taken place before the system of infant school
teaching was introduced, seemed, to some, impracticable
in a company of babes ; but experience justified the plan,
and sufficient evidence is now happily furnished in every
town, that the infant mind is capable of acquiring, re-
taining, and applying a great variety of knowledge.
Already did little Mary begin to exercise an influence in
her circle ; for, if the leader of the band was withdrawn
for a time, she was always found repeating an old
" Sunday story " that she remembered, or inducing the
rest to sing, or say their texts to her. These exercises,
in some part of which prayer was introduced, would
occupy us all for two hours, without a shade of weari-
ness, and seem to dispel the difficulty which many pious
parents express of keeping their children suitably em-
ployed on the Lord's day. They were not kept from
weariness by allowing them to return to the nursery
to their toys ; for a regular occupation of Saturday night
was to put all these away, and, except a picture Bible,
they never sought for a Sabbath amusement.

A friend, whose untiring interest in the progress of
the little family was the occasion of her being made the
recipient of many a written anecdote, has furnished the
following, which are introduced as specimens of very
early attention to what was read, and of healthful exercise
of the thinking powers : — The history of Elymas the
sorcerer was read to them, — Cornelius, with his bold de-
cided judgment, exclaimed, " Blind! I would have struck
him dumb for speaking against the gospel." Mary, per-
haps afraid of the freedom of the criticism, replied, " Oh
no, Corie ! blinding him was best, for he might repent,
and then you know he could speak for the gospel."

E

18 MEMOIR OF

On another occasion, Corie, not feeling well, was
resting on the rug, and rather fretful. He was told that
he ought not to complain, as he must learn, in whatso-
ever state he was, to be therewith contented. His
sister, who, seated on a stool, was trying to use a needle
and thread, looking up considerately, put the puzzling
query, " Mamma, would you be contented if your head
was in the mouth of a lion ?" While pondering what
reply would be most suitable, the dilemma was removed
by the little boy rearing from his listlessness, and saying,
" 0 yes ! she would ; for you know the lion could not
eat her soul."

Inexperienced instructors are accused of being un-
necessarily strict disciplinarians, and there is much
weight in the French maxim, " pas trop gouvemer." To
cast occupations in the way of children, and leave them
to pursue their natural taste in selection ; to guide and
restrain, but not to dictate in matters of amusement,
leaves more play to the taste and genius, and generally
gives more zest to enjoyment.

This firstling of the ilock required teaching, as she
had no example of older children ; but so ductile was her
mind, and so flexible her disposition, and so miserable
was she at the idea of having done wrong, that she
required less restraining than most children ; and the
experience of later years seems to point out, that she
might have been disciplined through all her childhood,
without the use of punishment at all. On one occasion,
when, for some little fault, she was put behind the sofa,
under sentence of remaining there for ten minutes, her
anguish and tears were mistaken in their bitterness for
a. tit of passion ; and she was told that, if she did not
command herself and be quiet, she should remain there
double the time. She still stretched her little arms and

I

MART LUNDIE DUNCAN. 1(.>

1 out, " Forgive me ! 0 forgive me !" and when
asked how she could expect to be forgiven whili
cried and wanted to come out, she at last was able to
explain, that, were she but forgiven, she would stay
there quietly all day if she was told. This is a sample
of her general disposition ; the idea of having offended
her parents, and, above all, of having sinned against God,
inflicted, from earliest childhood, the keenest misery on
her sensitive mind.

Though her tears flowed so readily on subjects that
wounded feeling, she could endure a considerable
amount of bodily pain without complaint. On one
occasion, while being chased round the room by an
orphan girl, who for a time found a home in the manse,
Mary fell against the corner of a brass nailed chair, and
had a long gash made in her plump cheek. The stream
of blood which quickly stained her clothes, the tears of
the poor girl who. caused the mischief, and the anxious
countenances of all the circle, in addition to her own
suffering, drew no tears from her. The friendly old
family surgeon finished his task of clasping the wound,
by saying, " There, my little lass, I hope that will heal,
without marring your beauty." The child replied with
her native politeness, " Thank you, sir," and then,
turning to nurse, on whose knee she was held, she said,
in a confidential sotto voce, " That is a kebber (clever;
doctor."

Though thus hardy in her own powers of endurance,
she was tender to all living things. A loved relative
and occasional companion from her earliest years.
" one of the first remembrances I have of her, was her
gently rebuking me (with no intention to rebuke, but
with an evident surprise), for killing a spider, instead of
putting it out of the window."

20 MEMOIR OF

Outward observers could not tell the time when Mary-
did not appear to be under a gracious influence. But in
her thirteenth year, — when in preparation for uniting in
the sacred comro union services, she conversed with her
parents, and was led to reveal more of her inward views
than was usual with her, — she herself stated, that the
first time she remembered to have felt the Spirit of the
Lord moving her to anxiety about her soul, and to
prayer, was in her seventh year, on her recovery from
a severe fever.

Her constitution seemed to be constructed with a fe-
verish tendency; for several times, at intervals of years,
she had serious attacks of fever ; and in this, her first
visit of that disease, she seemed as near the brink of the
grave as she ever seemed in her last, till within a brief
period of her spirit's being set free. Days and nights of
watching were passed, when her faculties were shut up
from those around her. She did not speak, and saw
very imperfectly; she could not swallow, and was con-
jectured not to hear. Yet, when her strength came
again, she mentioned that she heard, and sometimes was
able to give her attention to what was said, — that whis-
pering in the room disturbed and irritated her more than
speaking in the natural voice, — that she often was com-
forted by the prayers which were offered by her bed,
and she was glad if a hymn or text was repeated, and
grieved that she could make no sign to indicate that she
wished for more. Amongst other things which reached
her watchful mind, she named her gladness when she
understood that a dear christian brother, who preached,
was to pray for her in church. She also understood a
conference between her medical attendants, who dis-
cussed by her bed the improbability of her surviving
the night, and (lookers-on might well have been sur-

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 21

prised, had they known the effect of this medical opinion)
felt in herself that they were mistaken, for she was not

dving ! From these circumstances, lessons may be
drawn by those who are about the sick; not that they
are new, for they have been urged and laid down many
a time in medical books, but in most cases they are not
practised. First, that whispering excites nervous irri-
tation and suspicion in the patient. Second, that the
sick, whether they seem to hear or to have perfect com-
mand of their intellectual powers or not, ought invari-
ably to be dealt with as if they had, in all that is said
within their hearing. And, third, that words of com-
fort and instruction, such words as the Lord Jesus
Christ has furnished us with, ought still to be poured
into ears which, for aught we know, are not unconscious,
and that prayer ought to be made not only for, but with
them.

After many days of keen suffering, and of intellectual
seclusion, the little patient was revived, and the more
hopeful task was vouchsafed to her nurses, to strengthen
and raise her up again. She very soon asked to be read
to, and would have listened more than her feebleness
rendered it safe to allow ; and, weak though her eyes
were, she used herself to read with avidity a book con-
sisting of meditations and hymns adapted to the capacity
of childhood, and exhibiting the " Good Shepherd " in
terms somewhat suited to his gracious office and tender
care. She would not trust any one to remove this
favourite little book out of her reach, but hid it under
her pillow, when, from fatigue, she could read no more.
At this time, she said nothing to her friends about her
serious impressions, warmly as her heart went out to
them ; but her love for religious converse, and her own
personal share in what she had opportunity to listen to of

22 MEMOIR OF

the experience of her seniors, might be conjectured from
the frequent tears, and the expression of tender anxiety
in her wan but sweet countenance.

After being restored to health, her solicitude about
the conduct and condition of the junior members of her
family was more actively exhibited ; and her brother,
who was not much }-ounger than herself, betrayed his
consciousness of a restraining influence, which was pro-
bably not always welcome to his bolder spirit, by calling
her " the magistrate." The term is not indicative of
any thing overbearing and unseemly on her part, but of
guidance and restraint. And well does it become the
parent, who felt her worth as influencing the whole
circle for good, to acknowledge, in adoring gratitude,
the bounty of Him who bestowed so gracious a child.
In a letter addressed to a bosom friend, when Mary was
still but in her eighth year, this expression of grateful
acknowledgment is given, and will at least prove that
the admiration is no afterthought, but was parallel with
her days as they passed : —

lary and Corie are very busy with their teacher.
Mary improves in industry, understanding, affection,
and duty every day. I sometimes wonder how she ever
was given to us ; and sometimes wonder too (for con-
science does not allow me to enjoy such an undeserved
blessing in peace), if she is to be taken soon home, or
if she is to be the kind eldest daughter of a motherless
family."

From about this time, when the business of instruc-
tion was set about in earnest, the services of a tutor were
engaged, and the education of the family conducted,
without distinction of sex, in the subjects to which their
minds were applied ; and Mary, as the elder, led the van
in every lesson. By and by she was permitted daily to

HART LUNDIE DUN< 23

an hour or two with two christian friends at her
needle, in addition to her other lessons, and to them she
occasionally betrayed more of the working of her heart
than she could do to her parents. For example, she
asked why it was that, when she had an earnest desire
to pray, and went to her knees, she could not. The child
seemed distressed about it, and felt it a burden.

She benefited much by the converse of these faithful
friends, and remembered them with grateful sympathy
during the rest of her life. They had occasion to remark
her sensitive nature under rebuke, and her concern when
she had fallen into error. Sometimes, when she went
to them, she would say, "I felt very stupid at lessons
to-day, and mamma was not pleased with me," and the
tear in her eye evinced her uneasiness. On the arrival
of a relation of theirs from a distance, a girl of nearly
her own age, she embraced the opportunity of their fre-
quent intercourse, to seek to influence her for the good
of her soul ; and, when alone, would pray with her.
With her own brothers and sisters, as they advanced in
numbers and in understanding, she delighted to engage
in the same sacred exercise ; and, however her affections
mi^ht be extended to other companions, she seemed to
feel an absence of perfect cordiality if she did not meet
in them sympathy in spiritual things.

Her delicate musical ear, and sweet voice, were soon
engaged in singing with the spirit and understanding ;
and so contemplative was her nature, that the liveliest
joys of childhood would have been forsaken at any time
for a lonely walk on the ever lovely banks of her ad-
mired Tweed, or for a few minutes of pious converse or
singing with an older friend.

It is not easy to say at what date her relish for the
beauties of nature was enhanced, by looking beyond

24 MEMOIR OF

them to the power and munificence of the God of crea-
tion, combined with the compassion and love of the God
of redemption. Her early attempts at noting with her
pen the thoughts of her heart, exhibit the play of poetic
imagery and sentiment, together with efforts at reflec-
tion and sober views of a state of existence beyond this
world.

The following verses have been recently found in a box
of juvenile keepsakes, and similar treasures. Judging
by the writing, they may be referred to her eleventh or
twelfth year : —

" How sweet are those delightful dreams,

That charm in youth's first days of hloom ;
And sweet those radiant sunshine gleams,
That wander through surrounding gloom !

And bright are fancy's fairy bowers,
And sweet the flowers that round she flings ;

When in gay youth's romantic hours
She shows all fair and lovely things.

But ah! there is a land above,

Whose pleasures never fade away ;
A holy land of bliss and love,

Where night is lost in endless day.

And in the blaze of that blest day,

All earthly bowers we deemed so bright,

Must fade, as when the sun's first ray
Dispels the darkness of the night.

Why should my soul so fondly cling

To joys that bless my pilgrimage?
The joys of heaven I ought to sing,

Its raptures all my love engage.

Why should my spirit fear to die ?

What though the river may be deep?
When past, I never more shall siglr;

My eyes shall then forget to weep.

O ! for faith's bright and eagle eye,

To pierce beyond this vale of tears,
To regions blest above the sky,

To worlds unknown by lapse of years.

MARY LUND1E DUNCAN. 23

Then should the toys that tempt me now,

From my enraptured bosom fiy ;
In faith and grace my soul shall grow,

Till death be lost in victory."

The following outpouring of a refined spirit, panting
after earthly enjoyments of an ethereal character, she
has entitled

" IMAGININGS.

I've imaged a land where flowers are growing

In pristine sweetness all the year,
And purest crystal streams are flowing-,

And sunbeams kiss the waters clear.

Where music's voice, the hours beguiling,

Comes floating on the summer air ;
Where beaming suns are mildly smiling,

And cloudless skies are ever fair.

But darkness here the daylight closes,

And storms obscure the sunlit sky ;
And thorns are mingled with our roses ;

While joy is round us, grief is nigh.

() ! were I in that land of gladness

I've imaged fair within my breast,
Then farewell to grief and sadness,

Welcome soul-refreshing rest.

Within the leafy grot reclining,

While balmy breezes round me played,
I'd gaze on scenes all brightly shining,

With nought to make my heart afraid

My heart should rise, with nature blending,

In one sweet song of harmony ;
Each lovely object round me tending

To make my soul all melody."

The very severe and protracted indisposition of a
sister, three years younger than herself, which deprived
the family, for many months, of all maternal superin-
tendence, extended a double gloom over the house of
mourning. The children were all suffering from hoop-
ing-cough at the time that her sister was first deprived

26 MEMOIR OF

of the use of her limbs, and then, for some months, of
sight, by inflammation in the brain and spine. Poor
Mary faded, and lost appetite day by day ; and at the
hour of the medical visit, when the dear sufferer's eyes
were bandaged, that the light of a candle might be intro-
duced to the chamber, which at all other times was in a
state of midnight darkness, it was mournful to remark,
as the little group crowded around that bed of anguish,
that Mary's cheek was pale and her eye dim ; and, while
the younger ones sought to say something cheering to
the dear sufferer, she could only shrink behind the cur-
tain to shroud her tears. It was, therefore, found ne-
cessary to send her away from the scene ; and she was
indebted for a home to sympathizing and intelligent re-
latives, who cheered her, without leading her to forget
those in whose distress it became her to partake.

The housekeeper in that family lately expressed, with
tears, her loving remembrance of the little guest ; and
said, that a girl of her own age, who had been invited as
her companion, remarked to her, " Mary, you always
pray out of your own mind ; but I say the prayers my
mamma has taught me." She replied, " Anna, if I were
to do that, how could I ask for what I need from God ! "
This little circumstance gives evidence that prayer was
with her experienced to be real intercourse with her
Father in heaven.

No juvenile letters appear connected with that period,
when the rod of the holy God was laid so sharply on her
house ; but the impression left on the bereaved circle,
when it was removed, was that Mary had redoubled zeal
and sweetness in regard to divine things. Her return to
the Sabbath-school in her mourning garb, and re-oc-
cupying her place, with a solemn view of her respon-
sibility for the use of each Sabbath, while the place of

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN.

or sister was filled by another, was observed to be
with her a time of increased prayer and watchfulness;

and the idea of a sister dwelling in the presence of J<
seemed to sublimate her thoughts, and give her a sedate-
ness that never left her again.

Though then only in her eleventh year, and alv
full of sweet flexibility of temper, that led her to enter
with readiness into the interests and engagements of
others, to Mary there was an end of May-day gam-
bols, of constructing grottos, of taking the lead in lively
games. Converse with her seniors, listening when they
conversed, reading, writing, and enjoying the green
earth and sky alone, seemed to be all the excitement she
desired. During the communion services in the early
spring of her twelfth year, when she was in delicate
health, a letter from one, whose watchful eye took in
much that was not made subject of conversation, con-
tains this remark : — " Dear Mary had a melting day on
Sabbath, weeping and praying for more love. She was
able to be in church for a short time. I trust there are
many gracious marks about her."

The next winter she. with trembling and humble
anxiety, asked if she might be counted worthy to ap-
proach the table of the Lord. Her father told her that
he hoped and believed that she loved her Lord now, and
as the communion is an ordinance in which He reveals
himself to those wTho love Him, he saw no reason why
she should be held back on account of age ; and he
trusted she would be strengthened to perseverance by
partaking of it. She then requested to be permitted to
share in the instructions of a faithful friend of her father,
hoping for more guidance, as she felt that her parents
had already told her all they could on the affecting sub-
ject. This request was most cordially acceded to, and she

28 MEMOIR OF

passed some time in the family of the Rev. Mr Hunter,
then of Swinton. She returned from those affectionate
friends and faithful servants of the Lord, accompanied by
expressions of increased love on their part, and of delight
with her ductility, and congratulations to her parents on
having received from God the gift of such a child.

While absent, she wrote little notes, which exhibit the
state of her mind : — " I fear I am not sufficiently anxious
about preparing ; but earnestly desire to be more so.
Please write to me soon and stir me up. I know you
pray for me." — " I hope to have a letter from you. O!
I feel that I do not love God enough. I feel that I am
very sinful, and backward in laying down my burden
at the foot of my Redeemer's cross. But I desire to love
God. I feel that, if I had no hope in Him, I should be
miserable indeed. O ! I cannot think what there is in
the world that makes us so ready to do as our wicked
adversary bids us, rather than to follow after our Lord,
who hath first loved us. But still I know that God will
not leave me to myself. He knows the most secret
thoughts of my heart, and knows the way to purify me
to himself. * He has seen my ways, and will heal me.
Having loved his own, He will love them to the end ;
He will not suffer his faithfulness to fail/ " " When I
come home you will counsel me, and lead me closer to
my God. O, how I wish for a closer walk with God !
and I know that in his own good time He will grant me
this desire of my heart."

No written memorial of this affecting point in the
young Christian's pilgrimage appears, but it dwells in
memory as a time of much tenderness of spirit, and
mutual prayer ; and one remarkable result experienced
by her earthly guardians was, that she seemed now de-
voted and sealed an heir of God, and joint heir with

MABY LUNPIE DUNCAN.

Christ ; so that, although, as still in the wildernes

continued an object of tender care and anxiety, vet the
great matter waa settled. The good work was not only
clearly begun in her soul, but advancing steadily ; and
her gracious God, to whom she had given herself, was

pk-dged to carry it on till the day of the Lord Jesus.

Her education from this time went on rapidly under
her tutor, with such assistance as Kelso afforded, in those
points of cultivation peculiar to her sex, till she entered
her fifteenth year. From various essays in prose and
verse which had been appointed as exercises for her mind,
her versification of a well-known Greek ode is selected,
as it peculiarly delighted her father, on account of the
harmony and freedom of its numbers. The subject is
Danae with tht infant Perseus. Her tutor read it to
her in English prose, and she repaid him by the follow-
ing verses : —

k- INVOCATION.

Ye srentle muses, I invoke your aid :

Ye dwellers in Parnassus, hear my prayer :

To tune your lyre assist a simple maid.
And make her numbers your peculiar care.

ODE.

The winds and waves were softly sighing

O'er the billowy heaving- main ;
'The sea-bird was all wildly crying,
And soaring- o'er the watery plain.

And there a chest, in gentle motion,
Was lifted with the rising wave,

As floating on the restless ocean,
It hasted to a sea-beat grave.

Imprisoned in this darksome dwelling:,
There lay a lady and a child:

Her bosom was with sorrow swelling:
And thus she spake in accents wild:

30 MEMOIR OF

' With grief, my son, my heart is breaking,
For feist we're drifting1 to the tomb,
While thou thy sweet repose art taking,
Unmindful of our coming doom.

* How canst thou lie in breathing slumber

Within this darksome prison room,
While bars and bolts in countless number
Confine us in eternal gloom ?

* Thou heedest not the wild waves moaning,

With purple mantle round thee thrown ;
Thou hearest not thy mother's groaning, —
I pour my wail to winds alone ,r

4 Thou, who with pleasure used to hearken,

And make my will thy law, by choice,
Would'st now, when tempests round us darken,
Attend, if thou couldst hear my voice.

' Ah ! still unconscious press thy pillow,

Tranced in sweet slumbers, dearest child :
Hush, hush, thou deep, each murmuring billow !
Be still, be still, ye breakers wild !

' My soul, my heart, is rending — breaking ;
Be still, my woe. — be still, be still !
In deep, deep sleep that knows no waking -
Be sunk, ye phantoms, all of ill ! ' "

In the selection of texts to be learned as one of the
early nursery exercises, there had been a view, from the
first, to such as could be most usefully employed in
prayer ; and as soon as the mind was strengthened suf-
ficiently to apply them, the children were accustomed
to compose prayers by the combination of one, two, or
three of these texts in the form of petitions ; so that
prayers were dictated by those who could not yet write,
and were written in all the initiatory stages of penman-
ship. Except the Lord's Prayer, they were scarcely
taught any thing approaching to a form, from the con-
viction, that the habit of exerting the mind to discover
its own wants, and to employ the continually increasing
store of scripture in seeking for their supply, was a likely

MART LUNDIE DUNCAN. 31

way to ward off heedlessness and formality in this
employment. After being exercised in this manner for
a while, they were gradually brought to pray in turn on
some part of the Sabbath-day ; and they who devised
the little plan have reason to praise Him who giveth the
increase, for He shed on it the dew of his blessing. The
want of this species of training, forms, in many, an im-
pediment to social usefulness lor life ; they may pray
with the spirit, but for want of practice they are con-
strained to be silent when it would be for edification
that they should speak: and, while it is readily conceded
that fluency does not necessarily ensure spiritual prayer.
it must also be admitted that spiritual prayer without
utterance is not capable of being helpful and consolatory
to others.

How many a sick person is visited in the spirit of
christian love.- but quitted with a feeling of imperfection
in the performance ot the duty, because the blessing of
His Spirit, who alone can make good counsel to grow,
has not been invoked ! How many a class for instruc-
tion is opened and closed without prayer, which, when
sincerely offered, acts as a framework or enclosure to
hedge in the good seed, and shelter it from the birds of
the air that are so ready to carry it away ! Were the
teachers or visitors of the sick habituated from early
days to fashion petitions for themselves, and to pray
with members of their own family occasionally, all em-
barrassment would be avoided, and one temptation to
the omission of tins duty would be removed. This sub-
ject is dwelt on with the more earnestness, because, in
these times of rapid movement, when families quit their
scenes of studv to be suddenly scattered to the ends of
the earth, their own consolation and stedfastness, and
their means of usefulness to others,cannot fail to be pro-

32 MEMOIR OF

moted by readiness in prayer. By this gift they may
have the honour to assist in hastening the latter day
glories ; without it they may be obliged to see their
brother have need of spiritual aid, and stand silent
by.

A prayer of Mary Lundie, preserved by the care of a
maternal friend, has just been forwarded from its long
hiding-place, which is of too great length for insertion,
but which contains the outlines of those holy desires
that in maturer years are to be seen in her diary. The *
iuvenility of some expressions proves the youth of the
petitioner, while intercession for the sick, the ungodly, the
heathen, for ministers and for missionaries, proves that
her heart was already expanded in christian love to
embrace the world, and to desire that Christ should be
glorified by the salvation of all men. Her interest in
the extension of the Redeemer's kingdom was early
exhibited. Having heard it suggested in the Sabbath
school that the children gave nothing of their own if
they begged pence from their parents, and that they
ought to exercise self-denial, and give to the missionary
cause money which they would have expended on their
own indulgences, Mary asked that she might eat her
bread without butter, and the price be given her for
the mission box.

About this time a watch, which was an old family
piece, was presented to Mary by two much loved and
highly esteemed relatives. Her grateful acceptance of
the gift, and moral musings on its use, were expressed
in the following lines : —

"Believe me, dear ladies, tho' long I've delay'cl

To return for your present the thanks that are duo,
My heart has its tribute of gratitude paid,
And now that heart's tribute I offer to vou.

MAKY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 33

How pure is its substance ! how brightly it shines !

Its springs with what beauty and order they move
But charms more delightful than these it combines,

Since it comes as a pledge of affection and love.

When I list to its voice, that's so constant and low,
It seems to be warning me, Time will not stay ;

It tells the swift moments, as onward they flow
In the stillness of night and the bustle of day.

And thirty years past (passing strange does it seem),

It numbered the hours as they fleeted away ;
Before I beheld the fair day's cheering beam,

Its voice was the same as I hear it to-day.

Ah ! 'tis a reproof to fond man's foolish care,

"Who treasures for earth as his ultimate joy,
That the gay and the lovely, the bright and the fair,

To mem'ry are lost before this little toy.

Let it teach me to work in the days that are given ;

Let it teach me to flee from the follies of earth •
Let it teach me to garner a treasure in heaven,

And esteem sacred wisdom more precious than mirth.

And may you, my dear friends, while your journey endures,
In improvement. of time and in happiness dwell ;

Enjoy the repose that religion ensures :
Peace and comfort be with you,— dear ladies, farewell ! "

34 MEMOIR OF

CHAPTER II.

SCHOOL DAYS.

It is not uncommon for those who are seeking, with a
prayerful spirit, to pursue the plans which seem best
adapted to an end, to feel themselves arrested by their
frustration, and thus constrained to trace back all their
motives, and the elements on which their judgment was
formed, with a view to discover the occasion of their
failure. There is one, however, and that the sovereign
element, at work in the history of the child of God,
which is often invisible even to the eye of faith, until
it is enabled to cast its glance back over the finished
history of that child. When we enter into the sanctuary
of God, we become aware that, while we were in pursuit
of one species of attainments, the Holy One, regardless
of our limited wishes, was, in his own way, pursuing
his will, which was the sanctiScation of the object of
our care. Under this new aspect, we perceive that what
we deemed a disappointment was in fact a blessing, and
that, instead of our Father in heaven declining to co-
operate with us, He is fulfilling our dearest desires by
taking the work into his own hand.

This was remarkably verified in the first year that
Mary was separated from her family. It was with
trembling and prayerful anxiety that the resolution was
come to of parting with one so lovely, so sensitive, and
so reflecting ; and the selection of the school to which
she was to be entrusted was a subject of the most anxious

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 35

care. But, at the end of one year, when that school
was permanently closed, the purposes for which she bad
been placed there, seemed in so great a degree to have
failed, that it was put down as a serious disappointment.
The chief object had been to find a seminary conducted
on strictly christian principles, in connection with the
attendance of excellent teachers ; and these seemed to
have been found. Perhaps the lady who communicated
with the inquirer, and described the internal regulation
of the place, was not called upon to reveal to a stranger,
that she, in a few weeks, purposed to marry, and leave
the concern under the direction of a sister. Perhaps
her humility made her fail to perceive that, when she
went, the genius, the energy, the power of control, and
the industry of the establishment went with her. But
so it was ; and it was speedily obvious that there was
the want of a pervading mind to correct prejudices, to
guide and influence opinions and affections, and to discern
and rebuke youthful follies. So that while lessons were
carefully taught, personal comfort sedulously cared for,
and religious duties and privileges provided as became
a Christian, the new head of the establishment failed
to detect a strong under-current of trickery and decep-
tion, which, though applied to mere baubles, had a
pernicious effect on those of upright purpose, who had
not force to resist being swept away by its strength.

Into this scene, then, after all the care in selection,
was this child of home introduced, and there was she
left to make her way alone. Her own description in a
letter to a friend, written during the holidays, will give
the simple view of her state. To her parents, she did
not reveal it, though it had been stipulated that she
should enjoy the unwonted privilege of corresponding
with them without the supervision of her governess : —

36 MEMOIR OF

"London, Jan. 5, 1830. — I have been tolerably happy
at school. For the first few weeks, indeed, I was very
miserable. I felt myself for the first time among total
strangers. When mamma left me, and I looked round
and saw not one by whom I was loved, or for whom I
myself had any regard— when I found my minutest
actions criticised, and my words repeated, I did fear
that I should have nothing but unhappiness. Miss

B , the lady whom mamma and I saw the first time

we called, had taken a fancy to me, and having a poetic
imagination, had, with the intention of inspiring all the
girls with love for me, given them a most enthusiastic
and mistaken description ; so that, as was quite natural,
they expected something more than usually excellent, —
one who would be superior to them all, and in whom
they should discover very few faults. This was not un-
mingled with envy. Consequently, when they saw a
poor sorrowful girl, quite unaccustomed to school tricks
and school girls, they were disappointed, imagined that

Miss B had unjustly preferred me, and all turned

away from me. I had a great deal of prejudice to over-
come, for, when a few of the girls whom the others most
look up to are hostile to any one, the rest very easily
follow in their train. In this way my situation was more
unhappy than that of the others. One young lady whom
I liked best, left school in bad health in the middle of
the half year. However, I have got over most of that
now, and two, who persecuted me most, like me best."

Many of the causes of persecution were also subjects
of envy, — such as writing uninspected letters ; possess-
ing a desk, with the privilege of locking up her treasures
in it ; the accidental discovery that she understood Latin,
an enormity which poor Mary, in her simplicity, had no
suspicion could offend ; her possession of a miniature of

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. ol

her mother ; and, above all, her having been caught in
the perpetration of such a breach of esprit de corps^ as
to look on it in her own room with the tear in her eye.
These, and such things as these, which proved that the
culprit had " a world elsewhere," which she preferred
to the society of her present associates, were offences
sufficient to bring on her inexperienced and devoted
head, a succession of petty vexations and annoyances,
which, in the isolated microcosm of a boarding-school,
were enough to afflict her spirit. It was the means of
leading her to seek guidance and support in prayer ; and
the discipline of heart which cost her so much pain,
teaching her to turn away wrath by a soft answer, to
overlook wilful endeavours to place her in a false position
with the governess, and to pray for those who did so
without either scorning their contempt or courting their
favour, was blest to her for her remaining years. In the
home where she was beloved and cherished, she could
not have encountered such circumstances ; and here was
visible the master-hand taking upon himself the educa-
tion of this dear child, in his own blessed way, but in
a manner which could not fail to be distressing to her
parents, when they discovered it.

An incident, puerile in the eyes of the world without,
but capable of exciting a considerable sensation within a
boarding-school, developed her character and purposes,
in a way that turned the tide in her favour. The spirit
of frolic, or the pleasantness of bread eaten in secret,
had tempted the young people to enlist the cook (whose
integrity they had means to turn aside) in their service,
to purchase for them a variety of cates, which were to
be enjoyed in an upper chamber, when the seniors of
the establishment supposed them to have retired to rest.
One young lady, who had so far dared to judge for her-

38 MEMOIR OF

self as not to join in any act of persecution against this
lonely being, entreated her to engage in the scheme.
She urged her by the motive, that if she did not, it would
only render her more unpopular ; that the rest expected,
if she did not, she would certainly betray them ; that
the cook would lose her place, etc., etc. In short, in the
form of the tempter, she made it appear that the only
amiable and safe mode was to follow the multitude to
do evil. Mary was enabled steadily to resist, and was
left alone in her chamber, while the gentle girl who had
urged her, was herself so convinced by her arguments,
that what they did was wrong, that she only joined the
revellers above stairs, from the fear of sharing in Mary's
persecution, if she stayed with her. After the secret
banquet was over, the same kind friend brought a portion
of the spoil" to the bed where poor Mary lay in tears.
She urged her to accept of her dainties ; she even pressed
a bunch of grapes against her feverish lips, but she
steadily declined to taste them. Her conduct excited
great alarm in the little band, who saw a fair occasion
afforded of vengeance for all their wrongs, by a simple
statement of the truth. But when some days passed,
and the same quiet deportment was observed, neither
threat nor innuendo exciting their fears, first one, then
another, became convinced of their injustice and unkind-
ness. Time after time, she found notes of apology, and
overtures of reconciliation slipped into her work-box,
and at length the most adverse threw down the weapons
of their petty warfare, and sought her friendship ; — thus
verifying, in their confined circle, the saying of the wise
man, " When a man's ways please the Lord, he causeth
even his enemies to be at peace with him."

As the holidays approached, anxiety about the award-
ing of prizes arose to a great height. Mary Lundie

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 39

received the premium for general christian and lady-like
deportment, by a great majority of marks ; and, when
another pupil received the music prize, about which
there had at one time been a doubt whether Mary should
not have obtained it, she congratulated her rival, and
kissed her with such affectionate sincerity, that it was
marked by the whole school ; and, from that time, she
might, if she would have accepted the bad pre-eminence,
have been the leader, instead of the persecuted. The lady
who had presided during that year, at the close of it was
also married, and the establishment was broken up. No
one, therefore, can be injured by this delineation ; and,
as she has since entered the eternal world, her feelings
cannot be wounded by it Where the head of a seminary
is of sharper eyes than this lady, and is as kind and con-
scientious as she without question was, exercises of
tyranny, and evil temper of this description, cannot occur.
The trial was severe on one whom her father in writing
of it, described as " a moral plant, ill adapted to the cold
clime of this world ;" and has been always remembered
with concern, but also with the thankful consciousness
that He who alone can bring good out of evil, stood by
her in her hour of temptation, and sanctified the trial to
her advancement in holiness.

Mary was fortunate in an affectionate and very judi-
cious friend, who opened for her a home during vacations,
and treated her as her own child — entering into her con-
cerns ; watching her improvement ; suggesting altera-
tions in her studies ; and writing faithful details of her
observations to her distant family. This highly estimable
lady was remembered ever with grateful and dutiful re-
gard ; and the prospect of seeing her again was held
among the bright spots in the vista of future years.
This hope was destined to be disappointed. One of this

40 MEMOIR OF

enlightened friend's many acts of considerate and en-
larged kindness, was obtaining permission for Mary to
pass a week with her in the month of May 1830. During
this time, her letters, overflowing with tidings from the
meetings of religious societies, which introduced her
to so brilliant and precious a section of the talent and
philanthropy of her country, showed how well bestowed
was that week of indulgence and of high enjoyment. It
was delightful to her father to observe the eagerness with
which her mind grasped at those subjects which had en-
gaged his own best energies, and touched his best feelings,
for nearly the whole of his life. Her descriptions of Wil-
berforce, Clarkson, Buxton, and Brougham, and of their
speeches, — the enthusiasm with which she yielded her
soul to the powers of eloquence, and the true feeling with
which she embraced every just and holy cause, as it was
presented, proved that these opportunities were powerful
auxiliaries in the development of her mind, and compen-
sated, in a great degree, for some defects in her school.
One great object to be sought in education, is the ex-
pansion of mind, not merely by the study of books, but
by presenting external objects to the observation, as its
powers become stronger. Whatever has the effect of
loosening the prejudices which, in some characters, form
the chief part of early attachment, is an important
auxiliary in mental culture. A young person, born in
a great city, will acquire a thousand new sources of
delight, by going to school in the country. The sights
and sounds of nature substituted for the ceaseless pave-
ment, and the throng of men ; the very view of snow,
resting on cottage-roofs, and clothing every spray, — un-
fold compartments in the budding mind, which might
otherwise be shrunk up and withered through a length-
ened life. The converse is also true ; and a young person,

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 41

accustomed to country scenes, or the habits and notions
of a country town, will not only acquire many new ideas,
but escape from many prejudices, by removal to a city ;
and this, not at pecuniary cost, or at the expense of hard
study, but by the mere circumstance of change of place.

The same thing holds true with respect to religious
forms and sects. Mary Lundie, though attached to the
Church of Scotland by a long line of ancestors, some
of whom had suffered persecution in her cause ; though
educated in the most respectful attachment to her parent
church, where she had learned all that she knew of the
Saviour, and of which she had the privilege to be an
early member, yet learned during her sojourn in the
south, with much gladness of heart, to enjoy the services
of the Church of England, and to drink in, with avidity,
the ardent addresses of some of the evangelical dis-
senters ; and thus was laid the foundation of that catho-
lic spirit which has doubtless expanded in the region of
her present habitation, to embrace all, by whatsoever
name they may have been distinguished on earth, who
have loved the Lord Jesus in sincerity. These valuable
objects were promoted by converse with many christian
friends, with whom she was permitted to hold intercourse
in London : and, while careless observers might criticise
external accomplishments, her parents blessed God that
her christian love, emancipated from mere local tram-
mels, expatiated over all the churches of Christ with
benignant sympathy.

The close of the seminary in which her first year was
passed, rendered it necessary to seek another. Her
ideas of what that other should be, are thus expressed
by her, to her friend Mrs Evans : — " I do want a clever
school. Not one where there is a routine of mechanical
tasks. I want something to exercise my head ; some-

42 MEMOIR OF

thing to improve my composition, which might easily
be effected in conjunction with lighter accomplishments,
if there were a clever sensible person who would take an
interest in it. I hope that, wherever I go, I may hear
the gospel preached."

In the seminary finally selected, that of Mrs Gordon,
in Euston Square, she found a congenial circle, a happy
home, and the means of improvement to her heart's
content. Those days flowed sweetly on, where pupil
and teacher were attached as sisters ; where instruction
was communicated and received, with equal avidity ;
where the minutiae of knowledge, and the higher com-
munings of spirits preparing for heaven, were blended
in their daily occupations. On all occasions Mary
expressed her respect and love for Mrs and the Misses
Gordon ; and, with Miss Isabella, she formed a tender
friendship, which was suddenly interrupted by the death
of that talented and devoted young lady, a_few short
months after she had entered on a new line of duties
in the married state. The survivors must forgive this
tribute to a memory so precious, and so linked with the
ardent admiration and love of Mary Lundie. Three
years after she had enjoyed this tuition, in a letter to a
friend, she says, " Have you heard that my ever-beloved
Mrs Clark (the matrimonial name of Miss I. Gordon)
has entered her rest ? Her end was triumphant ; but
O, what a loss ! Even to me it is most afflicting. What,
then, must it be to her family ; — to her husband, who
possessed the treasure but eight months ! O ! to meet
her in our Father's house. The soutb lias lost half its
charms, now my beloved friend is gone. Pray that my
affections may be fixed on God, and not traverse earth
to find something to fill up the blank. When shall I
love a young friend as I loved her?"

MABY LUNDDE DUNCAN. 43

This extract is purposely antedated, to exhibit the
felicity of the pupil under so beloved a teacher. Here
also may be fitly introduced, an extract from a letter
from this lamented friend, after Mary had finished her
iirst half year under the roof of Mrs Gordon.

" 69, Euston Square, Jan. 3. 1831. . . We trust
you will find her time has not been lost while under our
care. I have felt great pleasure in instructing her, she
is so attentive a pupil ; and her amiable dispositions,
combined with talent and piety, have endeared her not
a little to us, — a friendship which, I trust, may not be
forgotten when we part, but that you will kindly allow
Mary to write to me sometimes. It is a pleasing re-
flection, that any of our dear girls are fellow pilgrims in
the path of glory ; and I may indeed congratulate you
on having your eldest child a follower of the blessed
Saviour, as the influence over the younger ones may be
great. AVe will feel the loss of Miss Lundie's steady
example much, as the sight of a school companion,
reading her Bible, and walking in the commands of God,
has more effect, I think, than the precepts or example
of teachers. There is one thing which vexes me about
Mary, — a degree of untidiness, and want of activity
about such things as she considers of minor importance,
but which I consider of great value to a woman, —
putting on her clothes firmly, keeping her drawers neat,
etc. She is a little improved in these respects ; and we
hope will be much more so before she leaves us." This,
the only fault which reached her parents' ears during
her stay in London, would, from its trifling nature, be
unworthy of notice, but for two reasons : — 1st, It shows,
that the picture drawn is designed to be impartial ; and,
2d, Wq shall see that, in later years, when domestic

44 MEMOIR OF

occupations, which she always considered of " minor
importance," became duties, she gave herself to them
with zeal and diligence.

With that dear friend, whose house was her home
during vacations, a constant correspondence was kept
up at Kelso, and over her letters are dispersed remarks
and information of all descriptions. For example, dur-
ing her sojourn at the first school, Mrs E. says, "Mary
shines among her school-fellows with meek radiance ;
she is a humble, but dignified young person. . . .
1 think Mary has improved generally. . . . She
has also learned a great deal of that kind of experience
which is absolutely necessary for getting through this
world, and does not now speak of what she considered
hardships, when she first went to school. Her sense of
divine things seems to be as deep as when I first con-
versed with her ; and this I esteem a great blessing,
considering the distractions of school, and the trifling
and folly of girls at all schools. She appears to be
conscientiously attentive to the best things ; and I trust
that such an example as hers may prove a blessing to
others in the school. . . . Our dear girl is indeed
a very lovely young woman. She excites admiration,
and the greatest interest, in all our circle, and yet seems
quite insensible to it. We shall grieve, indeed, when
the time comes for her return to Scotland."

The impression derived from a re-perusal of Mary's
letters from school, is, that she exercised conscientious-
ness in her endeavours to improve in all her studies,
accompanied by a considerate reluctance to put her
parents to expense, and a modest concern lest they
should not be satisfied with her attainments. For ex-
ample, " Every body thinks it would be a great pity for
me to give up singing, which I greatly prefer to any

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 45

other accomplishment; but if you think it too much, of
course I shall be quite willing to drop it. . . I have
clone, I think I may conscientiously say, all I can to
improve; and I can assure you, at Miss Gordon's school,
the solids keep pace with the adornments"

She adds, " so you think of sending Corie to Glasgow
College. I hope his principles are sufficiently formed
to make it safe for him to leave his dear home, for a
scene in which he cannot fail to encounter temptations,
to which he is unaccustomed. The peace of God is the
only anchor to keep the mind steady in the midst of
them. If my being away, dear mother, makes it more
difficult for you to part with him, and if he will lose by
not going this year, let me come home at Michaelmas."

To her brother she wrote while at college : —

" London, January 29, 1831. . . . You, as well
as myself, are separated from our dear home. I felt
it much at first; but those among whom I have been
placed have proved kind and tender friends; and I pre-
sently found that I was no longer a stranger. I hope,
dear Corie, that your sojourn in Glasgow may be as
happy as mine in London. . . . What are you
reading in English, Latin, and Greek? My acquaintance
with the last-named good old language is at an end ;
but I still think of Latin with affection, and sometimes
sigh for the days when I luxuriated among Virgil's bees
and flowers, or mourned for Dido's unhappy lot. But
it will be more within my comprehension, if you tell me
what works of English literature have lately interested
you. I hope that you have time for reading, and that
what you do read is calculated to improve your taste
and understanding, and increase your knowledge. . .
Are you learning mathematics ? and, if so, how do you

46 MEMOIR OF

like this study ? Some people are very fond of it, but I
cannot say that that science ever haunted my dreams.1
I have been reading Milman's Fall of Jerusalem, by way
of relaxation. It is a beautiful poem ; some passages
transported me from school, and every thing else, till I
fancied myself in the midst of the falling streets, or
standing, with the rescued Miriam, by the calm moon-
light at the ' fountain of night.' I have read, last half
year, five volumes of Turner's History of England, a
most interesting work. I think you would be pleased
with it. It does not confine itself to what passed in our
own isle, but gives a clear view of the state of other Euro-
pean nations. This is an advantage, as it helps us to
form distinct views of what was going on in the different
states, at one time. Arrangement, you know, is of great
importance. A little knowledge, in my opinion, when
combined with it, is better than a good deal scattered
confusedly through the pericranium. . . . Dear
mamma and papa must feel your absence very much.
I hope they may not, in any way, be disappointed in
me. I am sincerely desirous to make myself useful in
every respect that I can. I feel that I ought, after their
kindness in allowing me to remain so long at school,
where my energies have been more bent on improving
myself, than in benefiting others.

" I hope, dear C, you do all in your power to improve
in your pursuits. Perhaps you may not again have as

1 Alluding to a family anecdote of an uncle of past generations,
who, when a student, had spent the hours till long past midnight, in
unsuccessful endeavours to solve a problem (which his professor had
done before him, during the day), and had retired to rest in despair.
But, when he arose in the morning, he found the solution in his own
handwriting on his desk, proving that, in his dream, his mind had
wrought out what his waking powers had failed in, and that he had
risen in sleep, and written it down.

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 47

much time for study. You are now far from those who
guided your early years ; but remember that the ever-
present God still sees all your deeds, and knows your
thoughts, and will be your God even unto death, if you
will be his son. O give Him your heart. My dear
brother, a steady principle of love to Him is the only
sure protection from all those snares you may meet with.
Let his word be your standard, and go not with a mul-
titude to do evil. Persons brought up as we have been,
have much to answer for. We have heard what it is
to love God ; and, what is more, wTe have seen it ex-
emplified in our dear parents, whose examples have been
constantly before us. Your sister's prayer is, that the
God of your fathers may be yours for ever."

Mary had already acquired a strength of judgment
which secured her against the misleading effects of adu-
lation. AVhile her love of approbation led her to bask
in the purer sunshine of affection's smile, she early dis-
cerned the distinction between that and the oblique rays
of selfish compliment. After describing a family to

which she had been introduced, she added, " Miss

is, I ought to tell you, a great flatterer. She compli-
mented me extremely on a little foolish poem I wrote

on the overturning of Mrs 's writing-desk. Happily

I was aware of her propensity, and did not believe her."

The early attentions of members of the other sex com-
monly create some excitement in the mind of a girl —
arousing the conviction of approaching womanhood, and
fanning either sentiment or vanity, according to the
character of the receiver. The only notice to be found
of such a circumstance in her case, is this, " That was

a curious letter sent me by Mr ; but as I showed

it instantly to dear Mrs E., she will mention it to you,
if it be necessary." Another little movement betrayed

48 MEMOIR OF

the generous and self-denying character of her mind.
When about to leave London, a small sum of money was
sent for her to expend in the way she liked best ; sup-
posing that some collections of art or other exhibitions
might have been still unvisited ; some favourite pieces
of music un procured ; or some pretty garment that took
her fancy, which she might like to purchase. From
this fund she did not make one acquisition for herself,
except that of the pleasure of presenting gifts to every
member of her beloved family ; and the affectionate
travelling companion who accompanied her home, re-
marked, that the expending of five pounds had never
before afforded as much delight to an owner.

MART LUNDIE DUNCAN. 4(J

CHAPTER III.

HER FIRST AFFLICTION.

She had just completed her seventeenth year when she
returned to Kelso. The radiant joy and beaming love
occasioned by her re- union to her family, her glad
review of the dear haunts of childhood, her humble
solicitude lest her attainments should fall short of the
expectations of her parents, all exhibited the simplicity
and meekness of her mind. Till the sense of novelty
wore off, she was really uneasy lest the result of her
studies should prove far inferior to their expectation- ;
and repeatedly, after doing anything which exhibited
the degree of her acquisitions, she said, with an anxious
expression, " Ah, I fear you are disappointed;'9 or,
" you hoped, after so much pains, that I should have
done that better."

She instantly sought to occupy her attainments by
communicating them to her juniors, and became of
her own accord their preceptress in anything or every-
thing that she could teach, and that they were willing to
learn. She now, also, immediately took her place in the
Sabbath school as a teacher, and by degrees found her
way to the couch of the sick female, and was both accept-
able and useful in her visits there. The only means that
occur of showing how much her heart was interested in
these engagements, is to quote a few scattered sentences
selected from letters addressed to a friend in Kelso, a

D

50 MEMOIR OF

year or two after her tie to that place had been broken
by the death of her father.

" I am glad you think Christy sincerely loves the
truth. Oh, I trust the Searcher of hearts has accepted
her as a lowly follower of his. I think of the Sabbath
school very often, and delight to remember both the time
when I was your pupil there, and the period, short and
precious to me, when I was permitted to try to lead a
few dear girls to Jesus : how I should rejoice in being
there again." — " It would be worth living for, if one
could benefit but one immortal soul, — and why not ?
Let us try, seeking divine aid. Your constant aim it
is, dear friend ; will you pray that it may be mine too V9
— " Do you remember, my dear friend, the promise that
poor Betsy made me about not walking on Sunday, and
not loitering in the streets ; and about continuing to try
to pray till the new year ? I often wonder how she has
fulfilled it, and should be very grateful if you would have
the kindness to speak to her, and tell me what you think
of her. Is she turning to Jesus, and learning the love
which can alone shield her, and save her from tempta-
tion ? How is C. M. coming on ? Does M. M. attend
school now ? Excuse these questions, but I am anxious
about the girls." — " You know how deeply interesting
to us is all we hear of the efforts made for the good of
the dear people at Kelso, and with all those efforts your
name is most closely associated. God bless you, my
dear friend, in all you try to do for his glory. I often
sigh to remember that I was removed from such employ,
when daily becoming more interested in it. My heart
clings to the school, Jeany Ross, and others. There is
far more peace and satisfaction in living to be useful
than in anything else, if the action spring from that
Animating motive, love to Him, who so much loved us."

MARY LTJNDIE DUNCAN. 51

— " I used to think it strange that so many young ladies
were in this respect inactive. I was not then fully
conscious how much I owed to my circumstances, as
the child of a pastor ; or how much I owed to my
beloved parents, who always had something ready for
me to expend my energies upon, and smoothed the way
so nicely for me. It is difficult for me now ; removed
from my old employments. I have not yet found others
exactly to fill their place, and, oh, it is painful to fear
that one is but a cumberer of the ground. ... I
am surprised at having unconsciously written so much
of myself, but you will forgive me. Will you pray that
I may be enabled to see what duty is, and to do it ? I
shall feel thankful if you will, and for a larger and surer
share of that peace that is only known when our God
reigns supreme in the soul."

These may give an idea of what engaged and in-
terested her most during her first year after leaving
school. Her pleasures and sympathies may be also best
explained by extracts from letters.

During a visit to that faithful friend in Northumber-
land, who always entertained for her a love all but
maternal, and watched the development of her character
with generous pleasure, she wrote as follows : —

" Yesterday we went to W. to hear Mr B.'s farewell
sermon ; and, as the carriage is small, I set out by my-
self like an intrepid damsel, and walked the distance,
having received many directions which way to turn. All
these, however, were unnecessary, for the stream of
people set so strong in one direction, that it would have
required some ingenuity to go wrong. I was pleased
with the sight, they wTent along so quietly and soberly in
their Sunday garb : externally at least, they are a set
of respectable peasantry. Every new situation suggests

52 MEMOIR OF

new thoughts, and I felt more the value of hearing the
gospel preached, from having to make some exertion to
attain it. I wonder if this feeling exists in its force
with those who do so every Sabbath ? Mr B.'s dis-
courses were very impressive : there are few more
solemn scenes than a pastor entering his charge, or
bidding a last farewell to his people. . . . We keep
early hours at night, and I rise at half-past five, and
have a quiet morning before breakfast. Though I can-
not gain so much in the use of time as Elizabeth Smith,
wThose life I have just read, was so happy as to do, I
greatly value it, and do not like to let it slip idly
away."

To the friend whom she then visited, she afterwards
wrote during a severe family bereavement : — " If we
could learn to regard heaven as our home, we should
be much more willing to part with our dear ones. It
is but for a little while. His Father has called him to
himself a little sooner than the rest of the circle to whom
he was united in christian love, and soon you shall meet
him again in a land where sorrow and sighing shall flee
away. Yet the rest of life's journey must be trod with-
out him, and often will the remembrance of what you
have lost send a pang to your heart. Oh, dearest cousin,
may all of you feel that there is a fulness in Christ to
supply any loss ! May your steps be quickened in the
heavenly way, and may the rich consolations of His love
be your portion for ever lM

It will be concluded from all that is stated, that her
mind was not only of a thoughtful, but of a pensive cast.
There was, however, no languid sentimental melancholy
in this. On the contrary, she had much cheerfulness of
temper, accompanied with great energy of character, was
most readily excited to action, was in all good things

MARY LUKDIE DUNCAN. 53

strenuous in exertion beyond her physical strength,
which was never great, and no mind was ever more
flexible to enter with pleasure into the occupations of
others, nor any countenance more easily kindled from
a state of thoughtful repose to that of beaming love and
sympathy. Her aspirations, it is true, were after objects
of which the happiest moments in the wilderness give
but a feeble earnest. Her enjoyments were of the con-
templative, not of the restless or noisy class ; and, from
the deep views she was early enabled to take of sin, and
eternal responsibility, a tinge, not of melancholy, but of
sober reflection uncommon to her years, was almost in-
separable. For some time after she was first settled at
home, far from the associates of her age and sex with
whom she had formed friendship at school, and not fully
embarked on a course of useful employment, her tender
father would study her features, and then ask, with a
half dubious countenance, "Do you think she is happy?"
The question could not, without some reservation, be
answered in the affirmative then. This perishing world,
with its perishing pleasures and disappointing friend-
ships, is not calculated to fill an immortal mind. But
now, it can be answered without a drawback : — Her
soul is satisfied in the presence of Him at whose right
hand there is fulness of joy for evermore. " Yes, she is
happy."

The banks of primroses, the groves, the woods, the
rivers of her native place, gave zest to every other enjoy-
ment, and no season of the year was void of charm to
her poetic eye. These enjoyments will be best described
in her poem called " A Reminiscence," written several
years afterwards, which will appear in its place. Here
we shall, for the sake of illustration, introduce her
address to the hawthorn, written for her babes a few

54 MEMOIR OF

weeks before her earthly journey was so unexpectedly
terminated.

" THE HAWTHORN.

What faces bright with pleasure !

How fast your footsteps bound !
Come show to me your treasure ;

What have my children found?

It is the hawthorn blossom,

The fairest flower of spring ;
It smiles on earth's green bosom,

And nature's minstrels sing.

How many joyful voices,

Unite to bid it hail!
O ! how the bee rejoices,

To scent it in the gale.

The birds in concert singing,

The insects in the grass,
The sunny waters ringing
Low mu.-ic as they pass.

Look at its pearly whiteness,

Faint streaked with blushing red ;
It comes, its clustered brightness

Athwart the woods to shed.

0 ! in my happy childhood,
How well 1 loved its flowers;

1 wandered through the wild wood,
And sought its richest bowers.

Beside the waters meeting1

The fairest Scotland knows,
I gave it joyous greeting,

And wreathed its blossomed snows.

O ! that for you some future year,

The hawthorn flower may shine :
To whisper of a home as dear,

A childhood blest as mine.*

Such were her recollections of her early home, which
revive the images of the joyous group on those bright
days, when they used to stroll, for hours together, in

1 The confluence of the Teviot and Tweed.

MARY LUND IK DUNCAN. 55

the woods of Floors and Newton-Don, inhaling with all
their faculties whatever was refreshing to the senses,
reviving to the spirits, and invigorating to the frame.
Sweet and grateful memory of her childhood, which
dropt the recollection of causes of anxiety or uneasiness,
if any such there were, and tenderly cherished every
tint of beauty, every sparkling of joy, and every throb
of affection ! Days which it enriches the mind to have
once enjoyed, and the memory of which form3 a part
of its secret treasures, whatever be its future engage-
ments. The bard spoke truly of his style of pleasures,
when he compared them to

"The borealis race,
Which flit ere we can point their place."

But of this higher style, how erroneously would it be so
said. These delights which, in drinking in the beauty,
the variety, the lavishness of nature, embrace an ador-
ing view of creating power and benignity, are more
like the long glories of a summer sunset, which fade
not till they are merged in the rising beams of a new
day, — than the vanishing graces of the rainbow or the
aurora. Life may subside — the mortal eye may close
on earthly beauty — but it will only be to open on a
scene of surpassing glories, of which the fairest day on
earth forms but a feeble type.

In the autumn of her first summer at home, while
staying on the sea-coast for the purpose of bathing, she
made an excursion to St Abb's Head, in company with
her brother, and some amiable young relatives. A
jotting, still preserved in her writing, of the converse
of that day, affords a view of the state of her mind,
and the subjects that interested her.

"-August 28, 1831.— -Went to St Abb's Head— a

5G MEMOIR OF

magnificent pile of rocks — and dined on a hillock, with
a heathy mound for a table. Fancied the rocks like
cottages and churches. Talked of the wisdom of God
displayed in all his works — of the elegance of his mind,
displayed in the formation of a flower, or a caterpillar,
so perfect in all its parts, yet so minute — of the variety
of human knowledge — of the pernicious effects of unre-
strained imagination ; contrasted the grand, but unreal
poems of Byron, with the sweet and natural strains of
Cowper, — the one unfits the mind for real life, the other
depicts objects in their true colours, imparts soothing
to the heart, and animates to duty : of romance ; were
some very romantic adventure to occur to a neighbour,
it would not so much excite our imaginations, as if we
read a similar tale in the highly wrought language of a
novelist ; — there is in man a tendency to ascribe to what
is not defined, something more than reality would au-
thorize him to do. We saw two sea-birds bow to the
waves ; and remarked, how much we might learn, did
we accustom ourselves to derive moral lessons from all
we see. From these birds we might learn to bow to
the difficulties of life ; and thus pass through them
much more easily than we do, when we struggle against
the appointments of our Father in heaven. Read
Douglas's Thoughts on Prayer. Talked of subduing
the temper ; and of the evil that is often done by Chris-
tians to their Master's cause, by giving way to impa-
tience ; — of the world as a severe but useful judge of
christian conduct ; of Paul, as naturally of a hot and
hasty temper, but as becoming meek when he knew
Christ. Let us begin when young, and build on that
blessed foundation."

But " when joy is round us, grief is near," as the
youthful poetess sung, when grief was known to her only

MART LUNDIE DUNCAX. 57

in theory. Now she was to taste it in its bitterness.
Her beloved father was removed from our sight, before
she had enjoyed one year with him at home. Mary had
been absent for a week, and was returning, in a smiling
company of cousins, from an evening visit in Edinburgh,
when the solemn message reached her, that her father
had been translated in a moment, without leave taken of
any of those he loved. He was gone where she could
not follow him, and her tender heart was oppressed, and
bowed beneath the stroke. Amongst the first expres-
sions which betrayed the course of her mind, was that
stated in the funeral sermon preached for herself, little
more than seven years after, by her faithful friend and
near relation, the Rev. Henry Grey of Edinburgh —
" God is now my only Father." " Happy she, who, in
that dark hour, had still a father, — one with whom she
held solemn communings, and who will never die. Her
sympathizing and weeping friends would have hung
round and watched her in that long pang of wroe, but
she entreated to be left alone ; and when, after an in-
terval, their solicitude brought them back, they found
her still on her knees, with her arms extended on the
bed. Her eyes were streaming, but her heart was
deriving strength and consolation, even under that
crushing blow, from Him who ' hath comforted his
people, and will have mercy on his afflicted;' yea, 'a
mother may forget, yet will not He forget ' those who
trust in Him. Tranquillized and sustained by this divine
strength, she returned to the house of mourning ; and
it was remarked by those wdio were spectators of that
sorrowful return, that no loud cry, or unseemly wailing,
attended the meeting of the bereaved ones ; and that
Mary's bearing wras that of one long tutored in the school
of discipline. She was deeply afflicted, but she held her

58 MEMOIR OF

peace. A meek fellow- sufferer, she applied herself at
once to sustain as a daughter, and to soothe as a sister ;
and except when the flood swelled so high that it would
not be restrained, and she fled to solitude, to cast her
care on Him who cared for her, she was the stedfast,
considerate, and self-denying friend of all her sorrowing
circle."

Brief extracts from the outpourings of her heart in
letters, will best exhibit her filial love, her grief, her
faith, and her desires to improve under the dispensation.

"Kelso, April 21, 1832.

" My Beloved Cousin, — The last sad scene is over.
We have watched the dear remains being carried over
the ground where he had so often walked on errands of
mercy ; and we have to bless God for tender mercies
mingled with his judgments. Sometimes I cannot rea-
lize the truth. I can scarcely feel that my own beloved
father, the dear guide of my youth, shall never more
gaze on me, with one of those fond sweet looks that are
so deeply imprinted on our hearts. But oh, he is with
Jesus ! He has received the end of his faith — light, and
life, and love eternal ; and we would not call him back
to this dreary world. Oh! pray, as I know you have
done, for my mother. . . . If we may but be en-
abled to lie at the foot of the cross, all will yet be well.
. . . Pray for me, dearest cousin, that the selfish-
ness of my wicked heart may be overcome, and that I
may be enabled to live for her, and my poor dears.

" The sympathies of friends are soothing, and we have
them. My own father was glad he had lived to see
another spring, beautiful with what God has made for
man. Alas ! I in my foolishness thought he might be
spared for many. Oh ! not for him we mourn ; — the

MART LUNDIE DUNCAN. 59

sweet spirit he manifested during the last fortnight of
his life was such, that my beloved mamma says, it was
the happiest she ever spent with him. Is not this com-
forting ? He has been obviously fitting for heaven ; and
I trust his last sermons may never be forgotten by any
of his people. They, as well as we, feel that they have
lost a father. Oh, for faith to say with my whole heart,
thy will be done ! The book that was found by my
father's side, had a mark in it at the close of a medita-
tion on heaven ; and we suppose his last moments wTere
employed in reading it. Sweet employment ! How
like a translation was my departed's death ! Dearest
cousin, I could dwell all day on this delightful theme ;
but there are moments when I feel I have lost him.
And oh, my mother! God bless her. "When you come,
you shall know more of what our Father in heaven has
done for his rebellious children."

To a correspondent near London : —

"Manse of Kelso, May 11, 1832.
Ci My very Dear Friend, — The kind expression of
your sympathy has been soothing to me at this season of
trial. You have been so lately tried with affliction, that
you know wTell how to speak to those who are passing
through the deep waters. "We have indeed cause to
rejoice while we mourn. He who has been taken from
us, has been removed from a world where a spirit, so
tender as his, suffered much, to the presence of God,
where he is united to the family of the blessed ; and he
shall never more grieve for the sins and the sufferings
of his fellow-men. None but those who knew him, can
form an idea of what he did, and what he felt, for others.
We have found large packets of papers relating to slaves,
chimney-sweeps, widows and orphans, and to many who

60 MEMOIR OF

never knew who it was who was so actively engaged to
do them good. It is very pleasing to remember these
things, and then to think that he is now an inhabitant
of a land where it shall no more be said, ' I am sick ; '
— that he who spent so much of his life in endeavouring
to make others happy, is now effectually removed from
woe. Yet I would not appear to praise my beloved
father. He was too deeply conscious of his own un-
worthiness, to have hope of eternal life in any other way
than by Jesus ; and his hope built on this foundation
was strong. But, my dear friend, had you known him
whose loss we mourn, you would enter deeply into the
feeling that he is sheltered. This was a predominant
feeling for the first week. . . . This is the season
in which my dear papa was peculiarly glad ; and the
sunshine and spring flowers he took such delight in, are
all here still, though he is gone. We check ourselves
in feeling sad, that his favourite trees are covered with
blossom, and he does not see them. Ah ! we walk far
too much by sight. Had we the eye of faith, we should
never forget that he is in a region far more beautiful
than this. He has reached a land which is adorned
with the beauty of holiness. Could we realize the ful-
ness of joy of which he is a partaker, I am sure our
sorrow, now mixed with thankfulness, would be lost in
it. But He who sent this affliction, designs that we
should feel it ; and it is our prayer that we may walk
more closely with Him than before, and, trusting more
simply in Jesus, cherish a constant hope of being re-
united to all whom we ' love in the Lord,' and more than
all, of dwelling with the great Shepherd, whose voice
we have heard.

" All you say of the blessedness of considering
heaven as our home, meets a deep response in my I

MABY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 61

heart. Let us, my dear friend, walk as { children of
the light,' waiting with humble trust for the full disclo-
sure of that light. If our best affections are garnered
up in heaven, the summons to leave this earth will not
be unwelcome. But I fear to deceive myself into tran-
quillity, while I have un mortified sin in my heart.
Pray for me, my dear friend. I think I never knew
before that my heart was so unclean. It was indeed a
trial to me to be from home when my dear papa was
called away, though even this was for good. But when
I hear others speak of his words and his actions, so full
of love for the souls of men, during the last precious
week, I cannot but grieve that I too did not enjoy the
privilege of being with him. . . .

u I owe you very many thanks for your truly kind
letters, and for the advice contained in them. May I
have grace given me to profit by this chastisement !
Earthly comforts would be vain ; but it always does me
good to have my steps urged onward in the narrow path.
I need scarcely tell you, that I sympathize deeply with
you. I have felt for the last few weeks more united in
affection to those who are sorrowing, than to any others ;
and I trust that our heavenly Father is making you feel
that He is indeed a satisfying portion."

The self-willed and unsubdued, in time of affliction,
are swallowed up in their own grief, and feel as if they
did well to cherish that, to the exclusion of the generous
and expanding affections which serve to lighten sorrow,
though they cannot banish it. It wras not so with Mary
— her delicate sensibility was not of that factitious and
sentimental cast which would have rendered the house
of worship intolerable to her, because it had pleased
God to silence the voice that was so dear to her ; she
turned her affections on the flock, and therefore took a

62 MEMOIR OF

lively interest in the new pastor, and heard him with
solicitude. Thus she expresses herself on that subject
to her father's sisters : —

"Kelso Manse, Sept. 8.— To-morrow Mr M'Culloch
is to lift up his voice for the first time, in the scene of
my father's labours. Oh, may his work be blessed !
May he reap much that my dear father sowed ! Ah,
my dear aunts ! it sometimes comes upon me with fresh
force, that he is gone indeed. But we, I trust, shall
follow, when our Lord sees that we are quite ready to
have done with a term of probation. After some
struggle, I have resolved to go and hear Mr M. to-
morrow. It will be satisfactory in thinking of Kelso,
to know what kind of man is labouring there ; and I
know I can stand it, trying though it will be. . . .
The Sabbath is over, my dearest aunts, and we have
heard the pastor who is appointed to lead this people
to the good Shepherd. The impression is, I doubt not,
a favourable one. ... I am glad my mother was
not here ; it would have been too trying — she returns
on Tuesday to spend her last week at home. Pray that
she may be strengthened."

The following sentences, addressed to a relative, show
that her enjoyment of the beauties of nature still drew
her thoughts to him, whose taste and relish for their
charms had in part cultivated, and always enhanced her
own.

"Manse of Kelso, August 11, 1832. ... The
mountains looked quite beautiful, and I gazed on them
with great delight. My window looked towards them,
and thus I could see the moonlight streaming on them
at night, and the sun rising on them at early morning.

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN.

I thought of ray beloved father — how deeply he would

enjoyed all the varied beauties of the scene. Ah,

my dear cousin! I wish I could always feel willing to be

separated from him, for the remainder of my pilgrimage.

I want more submission; and I know you will join me in
praying for it. Last night I dreamt he was sitting in his
own chair, and I was beside him, and my eyes were
streaming with tears, and I was rejoiced that he was
with us again. But it is foolish to relate a dream. I
want to fix my affections more on the bright heavenly
land he now inhabits, and on the Friend of sinners, who,
I trust, will welcome me, and all of us, thither. He
welcomes the most unworthy, and this gives me hope."

"Berwick, September 22, 1832. . . . I know
that one subject of your thoughts has been, our now-
scattered family. Ah, my dear cousin ! we have count-
less mercies to be thankful for ; only ask for me — what
I feel I want — that a thankful heart may be added to all
the rest. J — , B — , and I, left our home on Monday
morning, the 17th ; and the Saturday night before, we
accompanied our beloved remaining parent to the cloister
where the mortal part of my now glorified father awaits
the morning of the resurrection. There we mingled our
tears ; and, I trust, the prayers that came from the
heart entered into the ears of our Father in heaven. I
felt it sweet to regard Him as my reconciled Father,
and to look forward to the period that shall reunite us
to him we have loved and parted from. Mr Baird
preached on Sabbath. We felt the afternoon sermon
very consoling. The subject was, ' All things are
yours ; ' and he showed, that not only life and prosperity
are the Christian's, but also sickness, sorrow, and death,
inasmuch as they wean his heart from earth, and all

64 MEMOIR OF

work together to fit his spirit for glory. We felt that
this trying season would indeed be ours, if we made use
of it, to give our hearts more entirely to God. In the
evening four dear christian friends joined us, and Archy
Murray l came and conducted family worship. Thus
passed our last Sabbath in Kelso ; and the next morn-
ing we were up betimes, and concluded our little ar-
rangements, and then I went alone to take leave of
several spots on the premises, and at eight left the once
cheerful abode, a scene of bustle, confusion, and desola-
tion."

One occupation of the last Sabbath in Kelso, is men-
tioned in " The Orphan's Stay," an article which Mary
Lundie contributed to Mr Ellis's Missionary Annual
for 1835, containing the history of a young woman,
who had been preserved through many years cf peril
and temptation, and was left on her death-bed, by her
affectionate visitor, peacefully looking for, and hasting
unto, the coming of her Lord. From this elegant and
pious biographical sketch a sentence or two will describe
her last visit ; but, before introducing that, one of the
early paragraphs may be acceptable, as descriptive not
only of the feelings of the fatherless in general, but of
her own deep emotions on that subject, ever to her a
tender one : —

" But it is not outward dangers and necessities alone,
that make the orphan the special object of the care of
God. He knows the heart of the fatherless, — the in-
ward sickening of him who feels he has lost what time
cannot replace, — who longs for the advice and tender-

1 The Rev. Archibald Murray is now in Tutuila, one of the
Saraoan Isles, a missionary successful above many, for a wide door
and effectual lias been opened to him there, and many of the swarthy
natives have turned to the Lord.

MAKY LUNDIE PUXCAN. 65

nese of a parent. — and weeps to find himself alone. To
him the promises are as showers to the parched grass ;
turning his eager gaze from cisterns that fail, and re-
freshing his soul ; for there is something in eacli of
them suited to his wants. There is no burden that
oppresses his heart, no regret for the past, no anxious
fear for the future, — that is not met by some word of
benign consolation. God delights to be reminded of
the mercy He has proffered, and does not weary of
the orphan's cry ; and this condescending love should
raise our gratitude higher than even the stupendous evi-
dences of creative might. The Psalmist felt it so, when
he said, c Extol Him that rideth upon the heavens, by
his name Jah. A father of the fatherless, and a judge
of the widows, is God in his holy habitation.' . . .
"I left the neighbourhood before her sufferings closed.
It was on a Sabbath evening that I took leave of my
declining friend. I found her seated in a large chair,
supported by pillows, and looking as if all her strength
was gone, yet so happy that I could compare her to
nothing but a feeble and confiding child, who intrusts
himself without fear to a parent, whose love he has never
thought of doubting. Her smile of welcome was more
sad than usual, for she knew that we should meet no more
on earth. She spoke of the quiet spot in the church-
yard, that would soon cover all that remained of her ;
and of the hope full of immortality that kept her heart
from sinking. She pointed me, too, to the gathering-
place of the church of the Redeemer, which was open-
ing to receive her, and to the short and quickly traversed
space that might divide me from it. One of the last
rays of the evening sun darted into the room, and
seemed to afford an earnest of that blessed meeting.
Our sorrow was mingled with lively hope, and we were

E

66 MEMOIR OF

glad that the sacred day was that on which we must
part, till the dawning of a Sabbath without end. She
expressed a desire that, as we had often united in prayer,
we should continue to maintain this valued fellowship
by praying for each other at a stated hour of each day
that was added to her life. This agreement she never
forgot. Some one entered the room, and I bade my
sister in Jesus farewell, and saw her no more." l

This was the " dear Jeany Ross," alluded to in a
letter already quoted. She finished her weary journey
shortly afterwards, saying with her last sigh, " He that
cometh unto me I will in nowise cast out." And now,
in that glorious region unexplored by living man, they
who by concert prayed for each other daily for a time
on earth, are united in a chorus of ceaseless praise : —
" Worthy is the Lamb that was slain."

1 Missionary Annual, p. 183.

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 07

CHAPTER IV.

STUDIES AND OCCUPATIONS IN EDINBURGH.

From Berwick she conveyed to their new home in
Edinburgh, the young brother and sister of whom she
had charge. In common with her family she drooped
like a transplanted tree, and was rather disposed to be
occupied about the past, than to feel capable of exertion
in her new scene. Very few letters seem to have been
written during that year. Amongst the few within reach,
there are constant allusions to her birth-place and her
parent ; unmurmuring, but touching regrets, which be-
longed to the tenacity and tenderness of her nature,
and which are not incompatible with submission to the
divine dispensations. To her maternal friend in Lon-
don, she mentioned the visitation of cholera, which
spread terror and grief through Kelso, during the
autumn of that year, and said, " A day of fasting was
held to implore the removal of the pestilence. I do
hope the town may derive lasting benefit from this
visitation. Had dear papa been in this vale of tears,
how lively an interest would he have taken in the suf-
ferings of his people ! I can sometimes rejoice that he
can no more be subjected to the sorrows that are, in a
greater or less degree, the portion of every child of
Adam. Ah ! my dear friend, it is sweet to think that,
whatever may be our alternations of pain and pleasure,

68 MEMOIR OF

he is in possession of the happiness that arises from
dwelling with, and being like, his Saviour. I some-
times pause, and ask myself, what improvement has
resulted from all our heavenly Father's dealings with
us during the past months ? It has been small indeed ;
but He who sent sorrow has, I trust, sent a blessing
with it, and taught us more, that He himself is the
source of all real enjoyment, and. that without his pre-
sence no peace can be found. We often receive mes-
sages from our poor and sick friends, some of whom
will probably soon be removed to a better world. We
expect to-morrow to be partakers of the Lord's Supper,
and you will believe our thoughts have been carried
back to the last time when our departed one was with
us at the table, But this is not enough ; — we must also
look forward to the land where we shall again unite in

praising our Saviour's love."

While she remained at Berwick, she wrrote the first
pages of a diaVy. From this sacred document it is im-
possible to quote so plentifully as it would be for edifi-
cation to do ; for, till the hand was cold that used to
turn the key upon it, no second eye had ever rested on
it ; and it is obvious, from various expressions which
it contains, that she designed it entirely for her own
private inspection ; yet every page proves the truth of
what was said in her funeral sermon, — "The principle
and spring of her actions lay in the conscience and in
the heart. Hers was that genuine inwrought piety,
which is primarily and chiefly conversant wTith Him
who looks to the heart, — which labours to have the
foundation deeply laid so as to alford a secure support
for the superstructure, — which seeks not observation,
or rather dreads it, — yet which shuns not the acknow-
ledgment of the truth, and the confession of the Saviour, i

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN.

nor swerves from the path of duty, to fscape either
censure or scorn."

Diary. — "Berwick, Sabbath morning, Sept. 23. 1832.
— I have sometimes regretted that seasons of peculiar
encouragement or depression in the christian warfare,
have been permitted to pass away unrecorded ; for,
though some impression of such reasons may be retained,
yet the returning engagements of life, whether in the
form of attractions or of cares, combine with my own
evil heart to render it but a faint one. Perhaps were
I, in a little while, to see in writing what had been the
exercises of my mind, I should be surprised and ashamed
at the quick change in the current of my thoughts. I
find it difficult to live, every day and every hour, as in
the presence of God, though I know I cannot be com-
pletely happy till I thus live. I know perfection does
not flourish on earth, yet how many of the dear people
of God have given themselves, soul, body, and spirit,
to Him ! and how invariably have they found their cove-
nant God faithful to his promise, 'to be a Father to
them, and to make them his sons and daughters ! ' O
that I may be enabled to follow in their bright track !
What a happy being should I be, could I, like them,
forsake all, and follow Jesus ! He is my Saviour — He
has given his very life for me. How can I, then, count
any thing dear that may come between my soul and
Him? I do trust that He who has given me the love I
feel towards Him, and taught me to wish for more, will
satisfy that wish, and increase my spiritual appetite,
that I may be capable of receiving abundantly that
love which is to the thirsty spirit like streams in the
desert. I hope that, by sometimes writing down my
different states of heart, I may be assisted in judging
of my progress in the way to Zion. Yet I fear that

70 MEMOIR OF

snares encompass me, even in this trifling effort. Let
me then ask God to make me faithful to myself, — to
teach me to search the depths of my sinfulness, and
not to be afraid to discover its extent. Let me never
write any thing concerning myself, that is inconsistent
with the strictest truth. Let me never be induced to
flatter myself, and gloss over the true state of my mind.
And may my Lord help me to be his child, and make
this a means of rendering me more careful to cast out
what offends Him, and to delight to do his will."

Such was her object in keeping a diary, and she
seems to have been enabled to fulfil it most strictly, in
the simple truth with which she states her faults, and
searches her motives, during the six years in which she
occasionally resorted to it.

Soon after settling in Edinburgh she took advantage
of the plentiful means of mental culture which the place
affords, and became absorbed in study, in concert with
many others about her own age, some of whom were
generous rivals in various objects of competition, and
two at least became sincerely attached friends for life.
Numerous essays remain, evidences of her industry,
and advancing store of knowledge, and increased power
of thinking. Such occupation always enlivened and
cheered her spirits. She never seemed so happy as
when put upon the exercise of her faculties in retire-
ment. In a letter, written about this time, she said, —
" We are very closely occupied at present, writing an
essay on 'the best training for female intellect,, — rather
a difficult subject. You have heard of people who cry,
4 Scraps thankfully received,' — I am somewhat in their
case ; and hints thankfully received is my motto. Will
you give me some?"

However earnestly engaued in other pursuits, spiritual

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 71

progress lay nearest her heart ; and by-and-by, the
friends who were accustomed to meet and read history,
or prepare English compositions with her, sought to
sanctify their other engagements, by meeting once in
the week, for reading the scriptures and prayer. In
unison with such elevating communings was the in-
crease of benevolence to all the human race. Her diary
exhibits many examples of ardent philanthropy, gene-
rally terminating in purposes of action, as well as of
devotion. The following extract may reveal, to the
friends of the negro, by what secret ministrations they
have been enabled to persevere, and have not fainted
in a prolonged course of trial and discouragement ; for
doubtless many a faithful soul that could neither speak
in the senate nor plead on the platform — that had neither
silver, gold, nor influence — did, like Mary Lundie, bear
the wrongs of those suffering tribes, and of a continent
in ruins, and the prolonged strength, zeal, and persever-
ance of their friends, on their hearts to the footstool of
Mercy.

"March 22, 1833. — We have been lately much in-
terested in the emancipation of slaves. I never heard
eloquence more overpowering than that of George
Thompson. I am most thankful that he has been
raised .up. O that the measure soon to be proposed
in Parliament, may be effectual ! What can / do for
my oppressed brethren ? Only one thing — pray for
them. This will be regarded on high. How sweet it
is to be able to tell our desires to God, and to know
that, though our influence among men may be next to
nothing, He will not despise our cry. Let me then bear
poor Africa on my heart, and seek a speedy emancipa-
tion for her sons, not only from the rod of the oppressor,
but from the bonds of iniquity. Long have they dwelt

72 MEMOIR OF

in a night of darkness and sighing, but their cry has
entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth. O may
they now be rescued by his power ! "

Diary. — " March. — J have been thinking of the events
of last spring. It is nearly a year since my beloved
father's death, and all this time he has been praising
his Saviour with fulness of joy, while we have still been
occupied with the fleeting things of time. Has this
affliction given me an abiding sense of the instability
of earthly joys, and made me long more for that purer
delight, which is found in seeing the Lord face to face ?
Has it made me walk more circumspectly, and devote
myself more completely to my God ? Has it made me
feel the value of that blood, which has washed away
sin, and taken the sting from death ? O ! I thought
at first that I could never more fancy this world my
home, nor forget how fast it must fade from my view ;
but sometimes I have forgotten this. How lovely
heaven would appear, did I always think of it as my
resting-place, and employ my thoughts on what would
prepare me for going there ! My heavenly Father sees
all my sins, and the coldness of my heart — my readi-
ness to forget the rock whence I was hewn, and to live
and act as if my daily duties might be performed without
his aid, or a reference to his glory. O ! that He may
help me to live to Him, to watch my heart, and to be so
humbled by my sins, as to receive gladly my Saviour's
offers of guidance, and to feel that ' without Him I can-
not go.' "

" April 28. — I was nineteen two days ago. How
long I have lived to little purpose ; I am so ready to
miss opportunities of doing good, and to make some
excuse to myself for it ! Well ! this year of my life is
gone ; but let me try every day that is added to my

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 73

time, to serve God myself, and seek to make others do
so too. I feel that I have not tried as I ought, to be

useful to E . x Conscience has often told me this,

and yet I have waited for a ' convenient season.' Surely
this is one, for the communion is drawing near, and she
is not yet a candidate for admission. Let me, then,
no longer listen to suggestions for delay, but, in our
walks, turn conversation heavenward, as those should
do who hope to win a lasting home there. 1 have also
neglected, far too much, the endeavour to make my
dear little sister seek her Saviour, and I know that my
conduct has been at times such as did not become a
disciple of Christ ; therefore, I fear I have injured her,
by making her think that it is not so requisite to walk
with unspotted garments. O ! may I be enabled, in
patience, to possess my soul, — to behave wisely to her,
and, both by precept and example, win her to my
Shepherd. I have been looking back on the way by
which He hath led us. His dispensatipns have come in
love and wisdom. Boston says, if the wood designed
for the building were able to choose, very likely no iron
instrument should come upon it ; but in this case, it
would never be fit to form part of the building. So
we, if left to choose, might prefer to be without sorrow ;
but should we then, unhumbled and full of earthly pros-
perity, be fit for heaven ? Happily we are not left to
choose, and God sends sorrow to make us like our
Saviour. It is well — He comforts us — He hath done all
things well. May I hope, then, that I am more firmly
rooted and grounded in love ? I am vile, but I have
known and believed the love that God hath to me ; and,
since He has taught me this, He will teach me more.
O ! to be like my Saviour, and part with what He does
1 One of her fellow-students.

74 MEMOIR OF

not approve — to see, in its true light, the insufficiency
of the creature — and to say, from my heart, ' Whom
have I in heaven but Thee ? and there is none on earth
that I desire beside Thee ! ' I must go and read with
the boys, and let me not forget both to pray and to try
to do them good."

Diary. — " June 9. — I think that, during the last six
weeks, while my dear friends have been in town, I have
gone out too much, and mamma has felt the want of
one who could sympathize in her feelings. This pains
me to the quick, and I can hardly write for tears. 0 !
my heavenly Father, when shall I be wise ? When
shall I faithfully do my duty to her, and all of them ?
Not till I have left off considering self, and thought only
of glorifying Thee, by being useful. . . . When we
were in our own home, and my beloved father was
with us, it was not thus. Dear mamma has lost what
she cannot regain, and no wonder she feels sad ; and,
when she looks at me, feels the contrast sadder still.
Yet surely I, loving her as I do, better than any thing
in this world, ought to be a comfort and help to her,
and I wish and pray to be so. O God ! I am ignorant;
wilt Thou make me holy ? and let me walk softly, lest
I lose the little spark of grace which I trust Thou hast
kindled in me. I want to learn prompt obedience.
When I was a little child, I never thought I knew as
well as mamma ; but now I at times feel inclined to
take my own way. Why should I be so proud ? Let
me learn humility ; this is my best wisdom. My God
puts me precisely in the circumstances where my cor-
ruption shall be shown me ; and I should be thankful
for it ! Ah ! how unlike the children of heaven are the
thoughts that fill my heart. I want to glow with love
to all, so that I shall forget myself, and be happy if I

MARY LUNDtE DUNCAN. 75

can, in any degree, make them so. And why should
this appear so difficult? I have a Friend on high, who
knows my vileness and weakness, and will forgive me,
and help me too. He renews his forgiveness everyday.
May I live near to llim, and may every thorn that
pricks me, make me look up to the beautiful city, where
is a tree of life without a thorn, and a morning without
a cloud ! "

This extract is given as an evidence of her extreme
tenderness, both of conscience and of affection. The
young heart is not easily convinced that an affliction is
irreparable, and to be endured with what meekness and
faith may be bestowed. If she enjoyed herself with
friends of her age and character, and returning met the
same wan enduring countenance that she had left, she
reproached herself, as if she ought to have been doing
something to alleviate feelings which were quite beyond
her reach ; and because her ardent affection would have
rendered it the joy of her life to fill that place which
the divine dispensation had made empty, when she
found that was not within her power, she accused her
own natural cheerfulness, as if its indulgence were sel-
fish.

"July 1. — Dr R 's twro days' visit has been

pleasant. He gives a useful turn to conversation, and
has been a successful minister. Some instances that he
related, of remarkable conversions, showed me the great
efficacy of faith and prayer. He asks and expects great
blessings, and he receives them. It is strange, that,
when I am asking for quickening grace for myself, or
conversion for those I love, I often think of the answer
as a distant thing, and do not seem to know that He
who hears me is ready to give far higher things than I
have ever asked. If I remember this, my prayers will

76 MEMOIR OF

be much quickened. I fear to deceive myself by kneel-
ing with a wavering heart. My dear uncle preached
yesterday on the evil of wavering. May the Lord help

me to ' ask in faith ! ' Dr R told us much of the

tenets of the Rowites, which I heard with deep interest.
It is mysterious that the flower of the church should
thus be suffered to wander. May this make me very
watchful over myself! Oh! may I be thankful that,
from my infancy, I have been taught the ' good old
way,' and, while I keep clear of those errors, may I be
preserved from indifference, that clogs and benumbs the
soul ! "

" July 14. — Ruthwell. — I arrived on Friday, and have
been charmed with the beauty of the grounds, and
cheered by the kindness of my friends. The Sabbath
has come, and I am once more spending that sacred day
in the country. The scene is bright and calm-, and all
nature seems to praise Him to whom it owes its being.
Strange that my heart should be so out of tune, so little
in unison with this sweet and universal concert ! — I
have not, of late, made proper use of my Sabbaths. At
Kelso, my class, and the beautiful scene I delighted to
look upon from my attic, gave elasticity to my spirits,
and I felt that it was a happy thing to seek to be useful,
and to bless the Giver of so many pleasant gifts. But
in Edinburgh, I felt at first such deprivations so much,
that a feeling of discomfort — discontent, I fear — stole
on me, and made many moments dark, which might
have been very precious. O how sinful was this ! I
felt it so at times, and strove against it. My God, may
I live on thy word, and then I shall not be so unprepared
to lay hold on thy blessings as they flow ! I have not
felt the ordinances of God's house very precious, nor
been able to say, ' How amiable are thy tabernacles ! '

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 77

and, worse than all, I have not grieved at this. I know
these things are so, but I do not rouse myself to make
them otherwise. This verse comforts me, ' He who
hath delivered my soul from death, will He not deliver
my feet from falling !' Yes, He will. May I not quench
his Spirit ? I feel something of my old buoyancy of
spirit. But this is no proof of nearness to God ; for
while I have been sitting in the cottage porch, trying
to raise my heart to Him, all sorts of foolish thoughts
have passed through my mind. I am sin — all sin.
But surely the grace of God, which is sufficient for me,
should ere this have been exerting a stronger power in
my soul. My days, this week, have been idly spent,
for I have not sought God in my occupations ; and no
wonder I am all wrong to-day. I have been considering
how I could do good to others, and have not attended
to the first step to it — watchfulness over myself. Ex-
ample does more than anything, and I can only be made
to walk uprightly by keeping close to God. O God !
whom I have so often vowed to serve, and so often
forgotten, pity and help me ! Thou art Lovt\ and wilt
not cast me off. I am thine — save me. Do with me
whatever Thou wilt ; but do not let me forget Thee any
more. Leave me not, or I shall perish. Thou art
God-^-Oh ! rule in my heart."

" July 21. — Another week has fled, and I have been
strangely tossed in spirit. Now that is passed — but Oh,
how much sin has there been in all parts of my conduct !
I once thought of writing it down — but 1 am not sure
that it would be to profit. I have had pain in my
spirit, and not sought relief in God. I knew not that
I had so much folly about me, but every new situation
in which I am placed brings out new sins. May God
lead me out of temptation ! Oh, may I be quite willing

r

78 MEMOIR OF

to be so led ! He knoweth what is for my good, and
bringeth good out of evil. If I lived on 4 manna/ I
should not stop for husks."

" July 25. — Last night we went to the high part of
the road to see the English coast, which was sparkling
in sunshine, while passing clouds cast deep shadows on
parts of it. The cliffs stood out in beautiful relief, and
the summit of Helvellyn appeared at a distance beyond
Skiddaw. It was a scene never to be forgotten, and
excites a longing to be a hermit on the side of one of
those peaceful hills. But storm and mist shroud them
sometimes, and they are not often so lovely as then they
were. Let them act on me as a similar scene did on
James Montgomery, ' yonder summits far away,' etc. —
and, 4 beyond the tomb/ let me look for perfect peace."

" July 26. — The fast day. I have been trying to
seek my God. ' My best desires are faint and few,'
but He will help me. I have to mourn for half-hearted'
7iess. This was my complaint when I wrote the first
sentence in this book ; it is so still. Present things
have far too great a hold on me, and eternal things
dwindle from my view. But God is showing me that
all below is vanity, and I seem less and less to look for
perfect happiness on earth. I have been in varied cir-
cumstances, and each had its peculiar trials, and in all
I have found my only help in God. But Oh, how
much more hopefully can I seek for peace and comfort
when the trial is of his sending, than when it is of my
own making ! He sees my heart and will empty the
vanity out of it, and make me such as He approveth.
I want to be all his own. Often I blame my actions,
and deeply too, when the only way to correct them is
to purify the source. I have not truly sought that God
should direct my daily steps. I have lived away from

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 79

Him, and no wonder that I have offended Him. I
have not been instant in prayer. I have been called
by his name while I obeyed not his law. lie says,
' return and I will heal your backslidings.' May I do
so this very day — and as, when Daniel confessed,
Gabriel flew swiftly to him with a message of mercy,
may my Father pardon me, and let me feel myself
pardoned, that I may henceforth walk in newness of
life ! How precious is Christ ! When I think of my
sins, He is my only hope, and worth all the universe.
May I love Him more, not in name only, but in deed
and in truth ! "

Such was a portion of her fast day exercises in the
country, surrounded by christian friends, whose con-
verse might have prevented the depth of her heart
searchings, had she not been resolved on converse with
God. About this period the germ of that attachment
was formed which gave a bent to the remainder of her
life. Acting as a disturbing force on the divine love
which was the master attraction of her heart, it dis-
tressed and unsettled her ; and explains the quarrel she
had against herself in this extract, and also in the fol-
lowing : — " I have every thing here to make me happy ;
but what avails it, when the mind is disordered ? May
I act conscientiously ! Oh, that I could live as seeing
Him who is invisible ! Why should I write this wish,
and yet not pray with all my heart that it may be rea-
lized. Help me, my King ! Save from sin one who
is ransomed by the blood of thy Son," Again, a few
days after, she writes, " Were I sure that what I do
meets with my Lord's approval, I should be happy.
Sin is mixed with every thing. May I learn to prove
my heart and reins ! The Lord weigheth the spirit,
and teacheth us to weigh our own too. Why then is

80 MEMOIB OF

it that I so little seek his guidance ? Peace is far from
the heart that seeks it not at his throne." The next
passage, written when she returned home, and happened
to pass a few days there alone, shows the continuance
of the same internal conflict.

"September 1. — I am yet more puzzled about the
state of my feelings. May God direct me, and forgive
me ! I have a weight at my heart, when I view it in
some lights. Let my mouth be stopped, and vanity
and self-indulgence never more be given way to. I am
solitary, may I use my time to probe my heart, and,
above all, to seek the Lord, whom I have lately too
much forgotten." "September 8. — I have been trying
to draw nigh to God, but find it more difficult than be-
fore. I am sick of myself and my wayward heart. I
want to examine myself, yet fear to do it thoroughly.
There are so many things mingled in me that must be
disentangled. I do wish my Lord to be my portion,
yet my conversation is trifling and to little purpose.
How long, oh how long, shall this disquietude of soul
rest upon me ? I do not wish for peace, if the reverse
is good for me. But repentance I must seek, and it is
madness to go on thus. I must pour out my soul be-
fore God ; yes, all its workings must be made known
to Him. Leave me not, my King, to wander in the
dark without a guide to point my way — give me power
to see whither Thou wouldest lead me, and oh ! be my
earthly path what it may, let me not lose sight of the
light at the end — the light of the eternal city."

Poor humanity ! How strong is resolve ! How
feeble in execution ! When David exclaimed, " unite
my heart to fear thy name," he was probably suffering
under similar experience. The infirmity which dis-
ables the mind from occupation by more than one ob-

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 81

ject at a time, and, when one affection is strengthened,
enfeebles another, is one of the burdens under which
the " new creature" groaneth and travaileth in pain ;
and even they who " have the first fruits of the Spirit,
groan within themselves, waiting for the adoption, to
wit, the redemption of their body." But " we are
saved by hope." The conflict endures but for a time.
Our guide does not shelter us from it, but, having tasted
its bitterness, the soul is taught more clearly to discern,
and more simply to seek, sanctification in all its attach-
ments. Blessed be his name that this is attainable, and
that the more the heart is expanded in such love as be-
cometh a Christian, the stronger evidence it possesses
of having passed from death to life. For a season poor
Mary was in heaviness, but the " King," to whose holy
dominion she so fervently renewed her submission,
guided and consoled and taught her, so that she enjoyed
peace with Him, while she exercised, in healthful
vigour, all the social and domestic affections.

At this period we find a jeu cVesprit, descriptive of
high intellectual enjoyment, in the society of choice
friends, which shows how much alive her soul was to
the charms of society.

" AN EVENING AT NO. XI.

September 10.

Oh ! is there a time when enchantment descends
Like light from a sphere that is brighter than this?

When the soul's warm emotion so dazzlingly blends,
That they seem but as one, — the sensations of bliss !

Tis the hour of the evening when daylight is fled,
And with it the toils that awakened the day ;

And the tapers, that glow in the drawing-room, shed
Their reflection on faces still brighter than they :

F

82 MEMOIR OF

When the man from his desk, and the boy from his book,
And the lady from thousands of matronly cares,

And the maid from her work, and her lone little nook,
Have cast to the wind every trouble of theirs :

And he to whose genius a senate might bow,

The champion of right, to humanity dear,
Forgets the proud laurels that wave o'er his brow,

And gilds like a sunbeam the moment of cheer :

And wit flashes out in electrical spark,
Till the sad and the sprightly acknowledge the spell,

And feel that if prospects at times appear dark,
Such moments of rapture repay them full well :

And eye answers eye, in the sparkle of mirth,

Reflecting the dance of the heart in its ray,
And the chorus of laughter swells loud round the hearth,

And the past and the future are lost in to-day.

And more I might add — but the deep doleful chime
Of midnight steals o'er me and breaks on my dream.

Go— whisper to those whom I love, little rhyme,
' Keep a place for your songster at evening's fair gleam.' "

While still alone, she received a visit from the Rev.
S. H. Cox, D.D., of New York, — a man whose brilliant
and erratic genius, warm affections, and fervent piety,
have kindled admiring sympathy in many less ardent
and less intellectual characters than hers. It is he to
whom allusion is made in the next extract.

Diary. — " September 22. — I have been at prayer, but
my heart wandered often, and now I do not feel at
peace. The work is God's, so it cannot fail — but how
very long I am in becoming completely His. I will
not cease to beg Him to make me so. He is my God,
and will show me the emptiness of earth, and the reality
of eternity.

"I hope often to pray for Dr Cox. May a spark of
his fervent spirit linger among us ! May we be revived
as his church has been, and in the place where an all-
wise God has cast my lot, may I consecrate myself to

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 83

Him ! One great sin is, that the remembrance of past
folly, instead of making me pray and strive for newness
of life, makes me gloomy, and I fear, has an effect on
my deportment to my dear family. Now, adding one
evil will not cure another. Just let me seek oneness
of aim and motive. 0 for a sense of sin forgiven ! Let
me seek it on this holy day."

" On Saturday, 14th, Dr Cox mentioned the half-
formed intention of the General Assembly of the United
States to propose a correspondence with ours. He told
us also of the invitation sent by the New York Univer-
sity to Dr Chalmers to lecture there six months. On
Sunday, his last prayer was, that He who walked
between the golden candlesticks would be with us still.
On Monday, he spoke of pneumatology, the science of
spirits, and said that an idiot's soul might be noble when
freed from the encumbering bodily organization. We
visited Knox's pulpit and the Castle. He looked with
the eye of a republican on the regalia ; and, on leaving
the Castle, said, he thought it well to visit such things,
for they taught us of how little value they are, and how
much nobler are the objects that fill the Christian's
mind, than any earthly splendour."

One who has read Sir Walter Scott's account of the
solemn convocation, and the breathless emotion at the
opening of the ancient chest in which the regalia of
Scotland had lain so long concealed, — and of his ever
after regarding one of his daughters with increased respect,
because her mind was worked up to such a pitch that
she nearly fainted at the scene, cannot fail to observe
the contrast between his mind and that of the American
visitor. However much of just regard for lawful insti-
tutions, and of regret about departed honours, inhabited
the breast of the native patriot, had the view been ex-

84 MEMOIR OF

tended from the perishing earthly splendours to the
crown of glory that fadeth not, the emotion experienced
on that occasion would have been tempered down to a
degree not far above that of the republican Christian.

" On leaving the armoury, Dr Cox said, he longed
for the time when swords should be beaten into prun-
ing-hooks ; and he believed there were indications of
the approach of that time. He spoke of an attempt to
settle disputes by writing instead of force. At seven, I
attended a prayer-meeting where he spoke of revivals,
and I longed for an effusion of the Spirit on my own
poor heart, and all around me. May 1 never forget
that night!"

"Wednesday 18. — Mamma came home at last, and Dr
Cox drove to the door an hour after. He explained the
5th of Romans. He held up his Greek Testament, and
said, ' Out of this blessed book I have derived all the
light I possess. Why do my countrymen trust so much
to each other's printed expositions, and not seek to learn
for themselves from this the pure spring?* I felt, while
he spoke with a glow of delightof the Bible, that 1 had
never prized it, nor understood it as I ought. I have
read it like other books, not impressed with the thought
that every word of it is God's, and therefore must be
strictly the truth. No expression of the Holy Spirit's
choosing is without its purpose ; it is always the very
one that will express precisely and fully the meaning
intended. Let me carry this thought with me when I
read the Bible. But I cannot tell all the gracious things
Dr Cox said. His heart is full of Christ, and thence
his mouth speaketh. And am I a member of the same
family? Ah, how unlike him in spirit ! Then, I am
also unlike Jesus, of whose spirit he has but a small
portion, and whose model he doubtless feels that he

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. &5

imitates but imperfectly. O to yield all to Him ! I want
to be His, and I know that I cannot be sin's too. Take
all my heart, my Saviour ! Let me crucify the flesh in
every way, and love Thee entirely, and my peace shall
be as the morning. After a hasty dinner, we went with
Dr Cox to the Temperance Coffeehouse, and soon the
coach whirled him away. Not so the impression his
visit had made. Long, long may it rest on my heart,
and may his singleness of purpose, his constant occupa-
tion of mind, his love to God, which is the source of his
actions, and the true secret of all the excellence of his
character, be my example ! "

A memorial like this must be encouraging to the
servants of Jesus, who, as they move through the world,
endeavour to leave a sweet savour of their Master behind
them. How many, from coldness or backwardness, put
aside their better thoughts, supposing them to be un-
welcome to those with whom they converse, who might,
if in love they would try, refresh many a disciple in their
course, and honour their Lord in doing so ! To her
maternal friend in London, Mary wrote of the same
gentleman in a similar strain. " I was never five
minutes in his company without hearing something
useful, and have had great delight in retracing all that
he told me. I fear his mind is too active for his frame.
Though his tour has caused a temporary cessation of
his pastoral labours, it has not brought him rest, for
wherever he goes he seeks to do good ; and during the
week he passed here, he preached twice, and once ad-
dressed a meeting. The latter was on the cause of
revivals, and made us grieve that so often the heavens
above us are as iron, and the earth as brass, while
showers of grace are falling in another land. Dr Cox
visited Mr Douglas of Cavers, and my little brothers

86 MEMOIR OF

had the good fortune to be his companions, for he met
them at Kelso, and took them with him. He went over
the manse grounds, which are dear to him for his friend
Bruen's sake. To-morrow he will embark for a home
of which he speaks with greater enthusiasm than any
man I have heard. It is delightful to see one whose
soul is so engrossed with mighty things, yet so full of
fireside charities."

Diary — "October 4. — Took J. and B. to a missionary
meeting. They were much interested ; and next even-
ing, when I told them of my missionary box, and that
Mr Knill gave away Bibles which cost a ruble each, B.
threw his arms around me, and whispered, 'Sister, I will
give you a ruble.' Dear child, may he love the book
he wishes the heathen to have!"

" October 31. — Fast day. I have a great deal to do
to-day in my heart. I have tried to review what have
been my chief sins this summer, and find that-sin is in
everything, yet I do not feel it as I ought. When I
was suffered to commemorate Jesus' death, I did not
derive nearly the good I ought from it. I did not set
myself stedfastly to seek Him, and am ashamed when I
remember how very little effect the holy ordinance had
on me. I have sometimes made the excuse that some
of the clergymen were not very improving. But I had
the * footstool ' to go to, and have cause to grieve that
I sought my pleasures more from the nothings of time
than from the love of God. I find that vanity helped
to ensnare me. It pleased me to be admired, — and
though the temptations are not near me now, is vanity
weaker ? I often feel it rising, and though some other
sins have more power over me, it has some share in my
evil heart. Let me put it down. Then, self-indulgence
was one of my great sins. I did not look so much

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 87

whether a thing was right, as whether it pleased me ;
of course, there I got wrong. Against this let me watch.
Oh! that I could unweariedly watch, and hate the
things that wound my Lord ! The motives of my heart
were crooked, because other tilings than his will entered
into them. Since then, my conscience has felt burdened.
Peace has often been far from me ; and, when I have
felt unhappy, I have not acted to mamma, or any one,
as I ought. My heart, and thence my brow, have been
clouded. I have been most cheerful when I forgot.
Oh ! this is a false cheerfulness. I want to be made
clean every whit. When God pleases, I want solid
peace. I will seek Him till I find Him, his grace assist-
ing me. My chief concern is with eternity. Thither
each day hath borne its record, — and how shall I stand
when it is all vividly recalled to me at judgment ? Oh !
Jesus, give me thy righteousness ! It was only last
Sunday that I was thinking over some of the past,
wherein I knew I had erred ; and strange ! it was with
a kind of pleasure. Thus, I nearly lost an excellent
sermon, and ' sinned in the recesses of the temple.' If
one of my friends knew my heart, and especially the
want of uprightness in my train of thought, I could not
look at that one. God knows all — give me, my God,
the grace of repentance : I want to draw nigh to Thee
to-day ; to begin anew to check sin in every shape — to
love thy law — to be a J servant of Jesus.' I am cold
and vile, and have only sins to bring, but she of old to
whom Thou forgavest much, loved much. Let it be so
with me. Let me, at least, love Thee indeed. Do what
Thou wilt with me. I should destroy myself if left to
myself, but leave me not. Let this fast day be one long
to be remembered as one wherein, in sincerity and
truth, I yielded up my mind to run in thy way."

38 MEMOIR OF

" November 9. — I have not been able to write about
the exercises of the 3d. They were precious, and I
renewed my covenant with my God solemnly. Dear

E and I spoke of the delight of being his children

when we came from his house. May that day be long
remembered as her first open avowal of her love to
Christ, and may she belong to Him for ever ! I thought
of my sins, but hope in my Saviour, and trust He will
strengthen me to keep my vow, and make me feel my
union to Him. I thought of the dear friends in London
who were engaged thus ; — it is a sweet bond."

The laying open of these exercises, so sacred and so
secret, is like the harsh process of the naturalist when
he saws in sunder a shell, whose external, polished, and
uniform surface, gives no indication of the spiral column,
with its many involutions, within. It is not done with-
out thought or without effort ; but if the purpose enter-
tained, in undertaking this sketch at all, is to be accom-
plished, it is by exhibiting the heart laid open before
God, — the jealous search after secret sin, and the humble
contrition for it. This was Mary's season of sorest
conflict; and it is much to be observed that, in the
midst of it, she never lost her confidence that God
would make a perfect work in her soul. The child-like
simplicity of her love and trust is very touching, and
maybe traced to her happiness in having been awakened,
through regenerating grace, at so early an age. Had
she only a year or two before this time of trial given
herself up to Christ, and acquired the habit of prayer,
her conflict must have been sharper ; the former course
of her thoughts would have acquired a fearful dominion
over her, and she might have felt as if she were cast off
from his presence ; but it was not so with her ; she was
still his redeemed one, with whose soul He had " been

MAi:v LUNDIE DUNCAN. 88

at charges" long before ; and she was assured tliat his
purpose to sanctify her for himself eould not change.
" I am still his child," said the sweet mourner. Happy
they who surrender themselves to the Lord in youth.
" They who are washed, need not save to wash their
feet, but are clean every whit." It ought to be re-
marked also, that, while her own concealed uneasiness
led her to imagine that her conduct was not what it
ought to be in the family, she was comforting and
helpful as a daughter ; and as a sister she was tutoress,
counsellor, or sympathizing friend, at all times. If her
spirit was bowed down, her brow was serene ; if her
mind was anxious, her conduct was uniformly mild and
dutiful.

At this period she was called to sojourn at Berwick,
for some time, with an aged and valued relative, who
required to be ministered toby younger hands than her
own. Her diary while there, shows the same watchful
disposition, the same mistrust of self, and aversion to
the admission of little sins.

Diary. — " Berwick , Nov. 14.— I have been living
quietly here, and time slips through my fingers fast.
My dear aunt seems to have comfort in my presence,
and I give up my own will, as much as I can, to hers.
There is little outward temptation, but much from
within ; and I fear lest I let time pass without the be-
nefit I hoped to derive. Let me renew my efforts. I
have tried to employ my mind during my lonely walks,
on the best things. On Sunday, the 10th, I enjoyed a
good deal of prayer, and remembered the preceding one.
But, for the last two days, ' the cage of unclean birds'
has had more influence in my heart, and prayer has
seemed less dear and less necessary. I can trust to
no frame of mind ; but this morning, when I read of

90 MEMOIR OF

Jesus' resurrection, I felt that I could trust Him. O, I
am his, why do I, then, so often forget Him ? To-mor-
row is the Sabbath. Is my heart in a Sabbath frame ?

" Last night I commenced teaching Nancy. She is
ignorant, indeed : may I be assisted, and made useful
to her ! I am very quiet here. How strange is the
propensity to look forward ! My prospects are all misty
and uncertain ; my retrospects lately painful. Shall I
not, then, look back with repentance, and forward with
submission, and seek grace for the present need ? May
I make heaven my future, — the loveliest bourne far,
far, on which my heart can dwell ! "

" Friday 22. — I have not this week been lively in
secret prayer, and therefore I do not feel at peace. I
have been much interrupted during the day, and have
sat late to do something for my mind. But thus my
soul has suffered ; for, by the time I went to prayer, I
have been sleepy and listless, so as to have difficulty
in keeping myself up. It is difficult to watch the
very point, which, if transgressed, is wrong. I don't
like to let my mind rest, — at least, not more than
necessary ; but I will try to improve the flying hours
better, doing what I can in the daytime, consist-
ently with cheering my aunt, and obeying her little

behests. I have thought much of dear F , in her

little room betimes, seeking her Father in heaven, and
commending herself, her friends, and the world, to Him.
How rich and ennobling is prayer, when we enter on it
with all our hearts ! What can be so exalting to the
mind, or fill it with such pure and heavenly thoughts ?
Let me remember this, when I am poring, in spite of
weariness, on something I am bent on finishing ere I
retire.

"There is another fault I am guilty of. — that of

MARY LTJNDTE DUNCAN. 91

speaking too much, and loving to display my tiny con-
versational powers. I believe I wish to do good, in my
intercourse with others ; but when I begin to tell stories
of Mr Knill and Dr C, I feel pleased at having some-
thing to say that gives pleasure, and a little informa-
tion ; and I have wondered to find my head in motion,
and my tongue speaking with great animation, to people
wiser than myself. How contemptible ! Should it not
make me humble to think how vile I am in the sight
of God ? Will nothing teach me ? Even when I am
seeking information, there is a solicitude not to seem
ignorant, and an idea that this will make me seem
wiser when I know it. Now, all this should lead me
to secret prayer. When I think I wish glory to God,
I find I am seeking it for myself. Let me pray for a
new heart, a complete change, and seek to forget my-
self, and aim, in conversing, to make others happy, and
honour God. Let me try."

A poem, dated December 12, 1833, forms a suitable
close to this year.

" A REMINISCENCE ON LEAVING KELSO.

There is a spot where memory loves to rest, —
A scene whose image, pictured in my breast,
Is twined with all that's beautiful and dear,
With all that weeps affection's mournful tear —
My home ! — By the soft sunshine of thy glades,
Thy daisied pastures, mixed with forest shades ;
The gentle breeze, that fans thy waving tree ;
By thy sweet wild-flowers, I'll remember thee !
And thou, my native stream, whose waveless flow,
Whether thou laugh'st in morning's roseate glow,
Or spread'st thy bosom to the noon-tide beam,
Or smil'st in beauty at the sunset's gleam,
Art lovely still. — Bright stream, farewell to thee !
Thy silvery waters flow no more for me ;
No more for me the music of thy play,
When lengthening shades proclaim the close of day.

92 MEMOIR OF

One hour there is, I've prized above the rest,

One halcyon hour, when thou wert loveliest ;

'Twas when the day of rest was well nigh sped,

And its sweet influence o'er my heart was shed ;

When courting solitude, at balmy even,

I sought for peace, in communing with heaven.

'Twas rapture then, to gaze on thee, fair stream,

All sparkling in day's last and tenderest beam ;

While the rich trees that graceful o'er thee wave,

Were trembling in the golden light it gave ;

And breezes stirred the incense of the air,

As tho' some spirit kept his Sabbath there ;

It seemed, as if those deep and spacious skies,

That kindled earth with their celestial dyes,

Shot rays of glory from some heavenly clime

To bless the Sabbath of the sons of time,

And raise the soul, on contemplation's wing,

To the pure source whence endless pleasures spring —

A foretaste of that glorious land of light,

Where those who love the Lamb shall dwell in robes of white.*

MAKY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 93

CHAPTER V.

CORRESPONDENCE and DIAET.

Diary.—- Edinburgh. Jan. 18, 1334.— Up at four to
see Cornelius off. I felt sad when he set out in the
dark and damp, and thought of his many disadvantages
in living alone. Do I pray enough for my brother ?
My heart condemns me."

" 22. — The first night of my beginning to read
Watts' hymns, at the same hour with my ever dear

friend F . I have not of late prized this means of

keeping up christian fellowship so much as once I did.
I fear I can trace this to my thoughts being too much
set aiioat about the future in this life. — The future !
what is it ? A moment like the past, and more uncer-
tain ; — if the very brightest dreams that ever dazzled
my fancy had been realized, still it would have been
but a moment. Shall I suffer things to tlit before me,
invested with proportions not their own, till all things
else seem tame and insipid ! "

" March 8.— ITave had delight in the life of M. J.
Graham: her remarks on conducting study to God's
glory, and drawing out the mind to its full extent, as a
precious talent, and his gift, pleased me much. Let me
try, like her, to bring all things to the ' Test of Truth.'
On Sabbath day attended the communion at Lady Glen-
orchy's. Mr Bruce, in serving a table, spoke of the
value God has for us, and our consequent duty of
being a peculiar and separate people, as, for the sake

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of being served by us, He had given his Son. Too light
have been my impressions of that blessed day ; how
soon earthly things warp my soul, and absorb my at-
tention ! Let me keep fast by my hours of retirement,
as the only means of receiving spiritual life, and obtain-
ing the blessed spirit of my God."

These extracts, scanty as they are, compared to the
mass from which they are drawn, betray a holy jealousy
of self, and a sedulous mortification of all those emotions
which the admiration of a continually extending circle
of friends was calculated to excite.

The extracts from letters to friends of her own age,
about this time, will exhibit the elegance and playful-
ness of her mind, ever mingled as they were, with
thoughts beyond the present scene.

To one of her Class-fellows.
"Edinburgh, May 5, 1834. — I had been longing to
hear of your welfare and pursuits for days before the
arrival of your letters, and was a wee bit disappointed
that there was no line for me ; but it was only because
' all men seem to themselves of some importance ;' so,
at least, says my counsellor, Pascal, that man of many
thoughts. My sober judgment soon told me you had
chosen your correspondence wisely. ... Is it not
most animating to feel oneself beloved by those who are
dear to us ? To me it is the most exhilarating of all
feelings; and we, dear friend, shall continue to love and
pray for each other, whether we are together, or divided
by many miles. Last week I had a long letter from my

dearest F . So long a time had elapsed, that I feared

she had forgotten her northern correspondent, or did
not know how large a share she possesses in my heart;

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 95

but this sweet message of love bears no token of forget-
fulness. She urges me onward to the Celestial City,
where, though our lot be far distant here, we shall to-
gether bow before our Saviour. Yes, my friend ! it is
a glorious prospect to be in his presence for evermore,
and to associate with all those who are formed after his
likeness ; and it is sweet to hold converse with the
loved companions of our short pilgrimage, those who
have helped us to draw nearer to our Lord, who have
poured consolation into our spirits when wounded, or
doubled our joys by their sympathy. It is strange when
I think of my friend Miss R , that my thoughts al-
ways flow in this current. Our intercourse has been
nearly all connected with our highest hopes, and I
trust the perpetuity of our love will much enhance its
value.

" I hope, dear M , the spring breezes that open

the roses in the garden, are also planting them on your
cheeks, which were at times so pale, as to tell us that
the heat of schools did not please them so well as the

wooded slopes of C . Do run about and be as wild

— I was going to say — as an ass's colt! but stopped, lest
you should think, which is not the case, that I meant to
insinuate any affinity between my fair friend and that
interesting quadruped. No, no ! B. B.'s lessons in
botany and all the sciences, profound and light, will
preclude all possibility of this. — There is more danger
of you becoming a blue. . . Our little friends at
Stockbridge school go on as well as usual ; I really
respect and like the teacher. . . You will think of
us next Sabbath. — Do pray for me. I could tell you
of the coldness and carelessness of my heart, but I
would not sadden you with my confessions ; only ask
that I may know more of the hidden love of God."

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The friend, to whom she makes such grateful allusion
in the foregoing letter, and of whom she states that their
intercourse had been nearly all connected with their
highest hopes, had shown her much considerate kind-
ness when a school girl ; and though they never saw
each other again, the tone of their intercourse was of an
elevating cast to the end. Daily spiritual communion
was maintained, by a concerted course of scriptural
reading, which was occasionally varied by a collection
of hymns. The salutary effect of this was obvious on
Mary's mind, for the name of that friend seemed invari-
ably to lead to a train of pious reflection. A part of
what appears to be the reply to the letter mentioned
above, is as follows : —

To her Friend near London.
"Edinburgh, May 3, 1834. — I have risen an hour
before the household, and shall enjoy my quiet-time with
you ; but most sincerely do I join in your kind wish that
we could meet for an hour or two. I should like to
thank you viva voce for all your letters, and to tell you
that they have not unfrequently come when I was in
want of quickening and stirring up, and have helped me
to draw more near to my Saviour, for a time at least.
Let us, my beloved friend, set our faces more stedfastly
to seek Him who is our King, and our only hope. I
often wonder at my own hardness of heart, that I should
prize earthly friendship, one of his sweetest gifts so
much, and yet love so little Him who is the source of
love, from whom flow all the kindly feelings that cheer
our way, and who has manifested towards us a compas-
sion whose depth we cannot fathom. Why is it that
all perfection should be so coldly thought of, and that
cisterns which fail should be so cherished? — or that the

MARY LlNDIi: DUNCAN. 97

prayers of christian friends should be sought and prized,
and yet the open door to the throne of mercy be so often
passed by? I was struck with the contradiction in this,
when this morning I had many wandering thoughts in
prayer, and hoped that you would pray for me. Ah !
surely, if I truly desired to grow in grace, my own
prayers would be more frequent and earnest ; for what
can be more plain or more encouraging than the com-
mand, 'ask and ye shall receive V My God bears long
with an untoward child, and this makes me hope, that
my slow walk, and frequent deviation from the path of
life, may be changed for that 'unwearied running,' which
must make present objects lose their false importance,
and heaven and holiness be viewed aright. Is it not
cheering, dear F., to feel that strength is not in, or from,
ourselves, but ' our help cometh from the Lord ? ' To
Him, then, let us always return, and never be satisfied
with any thing that may pretend to the name of happi-
ness, short of his love. It is delightful to me to com-
mune with you, dear fellow-pilgrim, even at the distance
of so many miles, and to feel that the bond which unites
us is our fellowship with heaven. To love in Christ is
the happiest earthly feeling, and I do trust it is thus
we love each other. It seems a preparation for another
state of being, where, indeed, God will be all in all ;
and, though we are widely separated here, may we not
worship together there ? The continuance of our friend-
ship makes me prize it most; for I think it will not die
with us. No ! what belongs to the soul cannot die ;
and if you should in time find out all my weakness, and
cease to love me, or if long absence should even break
off our correspondence, yet in heaven, purified and made
one in Jesus, you could not but love me again ; and not
the less for remembering that in this vale we held sweet

G

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converse, and often met in spirit before the Lord. But
my dear friend will smile at this glance into the future
and the unknown ; yet, will not she agree with me, that
friendship assumes a nobler character when we look
forward to the period when wre shall be filled with the
same holy joy, and satisfied with the same glorious
4 likeness?' . . . My time is at present so much
occupied, that it is important to employ each moment
as it flies, or I could not do half that I wish. Indeed,
I never accomplish every thing 1 have purposed in the
morning. Two mornings in the week are spent in
schools ; one of which interests me much, — the other is
but a new acquaintance, and there is a want of method
and spirit in the management, which only the regular
teacher can wholly supply. I am also taking some
lessons in singing, of which I am very fond ; and my
inward discussions, on whether the value of time admits
of such employ, generally terminate in, 'it is but for
a little while, and mamma and all of them like it.' I
meet my singing companion twice a-week, to practise,
and to give her a little rudimental knowledge of Italian ;
and as we have begun with John's gospel, there is an
occasional opportunity to speak to my amiable friend of
some precious words of Jesus. Mamma often reads
aloud in the evening while I work ; and I enjoy this
more than most things. My little sister's improvement
I now watch eagerly, perhaps selfishly, I do so long for
her changing from the dear child to the friend. . .
You will not forget us on our communion Sabbath. I
never enjoy my dear uncle's1 preaching so much as on
those days ; he seems so deeply impressed with the
value of the dying memorial of the crucified Lord."

1 Rev. Henry Grey, Edinburgh.

MARY LUND1E DUNCAN. {)[)

To her Edinburgh Class-fellow she icrote in June : —
" Though you may rejoice in your absence from
dusty streets, you must allow me to cloud your sunny
mind by telling you that you have missed what has
been most interesting. AVe poor sojourners in busy
haunts of men, have some compensation for our exclu-
sion from the loveliness of early summer in the country,
in seeing those whose names we have been accustomed
to venerate, and hearing discussions that lose half their
interest when they have passed through the ordeal of
the reporter's pen. I need not tell you of this most
satisfying General Assembly. — Think how it has ad-
vanced in liberal feeling within three years. Let us,

dear M , pray for the peace of Jerusalem, that the

Spirit of her King may, in yet larger measure, descend
on those who minister in his sanctuary. To-day I
passed a short time in the gay scene in the Experimen-
tal Gardens, but I could not enjoy the flowers for the
swarms of ' knights and ladies gay' who crowded the
walks ; still, there is something inspiriting in timing
our footsteps to the cadence of martial music ; and I
could have fancied myself in some promenade of gay
France, where all the idle happy creatures (an anomaly I
own) meet to while away their hours amid sights, and
sounds, and odours in blended beauty ; but it outraged
my northern feeling with regard to what a garden
should be. Is there not in the word garden something
that expresses retirement and quiet, that could soothe
the mind when ruffled, and soften it when gay ? Does
it not bring to view Cowper in his alcove, and Hannah
More among her clustering roses at Barley- Wood, or
our first parents in their heaven-appointed home, where
their employ was to learn the wisdom and love of God
from every blossom that opened to the sun ? And does

100 MEMOIR OF

it not recall calm hours that we, ourselves, have spent,
communing with nature, as if following thoughts of
some great mind far away from outward distractions,
and drawing near in our solitude to Him who made the
blades of grass we press beneath our feet, and made
us immortal, highly-favoured creatures ? Many such
thoughts used to fill my heart in the garden at my own
sweet home ; and would you believe, the floating scene
of this morning recalled those feelings vividly ? You '
will not smile at this, when you remember the pain of
being obliged to leave every inanimate object that has
been long endeared. But after all, change of place
should not strongly influence the real Christian, for his
Master never leaves him, and his peace in the heart
makes even the wilderness to blossom as the rose.

Have you, my M , had your breast filled with that

best gift since your abode in the country? I have
hoped that a few months there may prove a time of
refreshing to you; and may not the heavy stroke which
has rendered the house of your faithful pastor desolate,
convey additional earnestness to his words, and increas-
ing desire to his hearers to learn heavenly wisdom ?
My dear friend, use the precious hours as they fly, and
oh ! pray for me, that I may do so likewise, and have
my heart and my portion in heaven."

To a Friend who had lost a brother in a foreign country.
. . . " Alas ! what can earthly comfort avail when
a cloud of doubt hangs over the departing hours of ' one

whom our souls loved.' Yet, my beloved M , the

balm of Gilead is sufficient even for this, though to a
Christian, the most afflictive trial that can befall him ;
and you, I know, have felt that the Sun of righteous-
ness shines bright even amid thick darkness. . . It

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 101

not unfrcquently occurs, that the God, whose footsteps
are not known, leads some wanderer from his fold into
a far country, where no Sabbath bell is heard, and
there, remote from human aid, teaches him by his
Spirit, that eternity alone is worth living for, and that
true religion alone is the safe-guard of any individual.
Poor Niment Richmond was so taught on the bosom
of the trackless waters, and led on, in an affecting man-
ner, through various trials, till his Father saw him ripe
for heaven, and called him hence. This is a severe test
of faith, but may it issue in the brightening of all your
christian graces. It is well to learn to give glory to
God, even in the fires. I understand the clinging
affection, which this sorrow, along with the departure
of your elder brother, makes you feel for the younger ;
yet, do not. rest on any earthly support ; go at once,
and without reservation, to your God, and in trusting
Him you shall be greatly blessed. Try to gather the
fair fruits of sanctified affliction in these dark days, my
friend ; do not seek, by other things, to wTeaken the
impression that God is dealing with you, but keep close
to Him, and become all that He designs this first op-
pressing grief should render you. Your spiritual
peace, your singleness of eye may be greater now than
ever, if only you make use of the afflictions that have
been sent you, which, painful though they be, form a
channel for the healing waters to flow in. Does not
the world seem { a vain show ' to you now f O ! I
never knew the meaning of these words till my beloved
and revered father was taken from me, and then they
rang in my ears for weeks, and seemed to be written in
their full meaning on my soul. How new the old and
familiar language of scripture seems, when a second
being, as it were, is awakened in us by sufferings.

102 MEMOIR OF

What rich mines of treasure the promises become, and
how we hold by them, sure for once that no other stay
can prop us."

To her Correspondent near London.
" Edin., June 8, 1834. — I wonder if you love the
Psalms as I do ; they have so often cheered me when
sad, and filled my heart with sweet and peaceful
thoughts, that I feel as if some of them were peculiarly
my own ; I feel that they have been my songs in the
house of my pilgrimage. I like to have my feelings at
once expressed and deepened by the words of inspira-
tion, and to believe that the same emotion which tuned
the harp of David of old, is in a faint degree possessing
me ; and, in God's own time, a harp of purer tone
shall be given us, and along with the minstrel of Israel,
we shall tune them to the praise of his Lord and ours.
Why is it, then, that I am content to be so far, im-
measurably far, behind him now, in devotion of spirit
and christian attainment? It startles me to think of
the high and blessed hopes I cherish, and then to return
to my daily walk, and see how little it is regulated by
them, or by a motive more constraining still, the love
of my Saviour. I know you will say, your trust must
be fixed on Him alone ; you must not expect to find
any thing in yourself on which to lean. True ! but
what is it that prevents my coming more frequently into
his presence by prayer, and why is it, that, when there,
my desires are so languid, and at times I even seem to
have nothing to ask ? I do not mean that I never
heartily pray — Oh ! I should indeed be miserable were
it so ; but I have been cold of late ; I want quickening.
. . . I feel painfully how easy it is for me to bear
the character of a Christian, when I have very slightly

IfABY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 103

' taken up my cross,' and very imperfectly renounced
the love of this vain world. Dearest friend, how shall
I entirely belong to Jesus ? Oh ! animate me, by your
love, to love Him more, and do not fear to say what
you think of my evil heart, for how shall it become
purified unless truly dealt with ? I sometimes fear
life has for me too much that is engrossing ; though,
two years ago, I did not suppose I would again esti-
mate it as aught but a vain show. How strange is the
tendency to seek for rest, where all is fleeting. I
have had a lesson of great pain that it is so, in the re-
moval of my most dear friend, Isabella Gordon. You
have no idea what a blank it is to me to think she is
no longer on earth ; though far separated, we could
think of each other with the happiness of those who
know that such remembrances are mutual ; and the
hope of seeing her in Scotland this summer, had been
held out to her friends here, and had given me lively
pleasure for months ; but she is gone — quite gone, and
earth shall not be our place of meeting. I had believed
it a sweet friendship, formed to add to the enjoyments
of time ; but, though it has not proved so, the memory
of this loved one will continue most precious, till we
meet to love more intensely, and more in the Lord than
we could have done here. I cannot bear to think of
the grief of her mother and sister ; it must be over-
whelming ; and her poor husband, who so lately thought
he had secured such a treasure for his own — how great
must his desolation be ! She was a creature so full of
spirit and liveliness, that I never thought of her in con-
nexion with death. . . There is no cloud too thick
to be penetrated by the beams of divine love, and where
they shine, how can it all be darkness ? They are often
most glorious and reviving, when creature comforts

104 MEMOIR OF

fell. . . How the passing thought of losing those
who are entwined with our very being, deepens and
hallows our love to them ! How it makes us anticipate
every wish, and strive in communing with them, to
catch the glow that rests on their souls ere they are
called from us ! Oh ! how perfectly can I enter into
your feelings, and how earnestly I pray, that, whatever
hefals you, may tend to fit you for your mansion in
Emmanuel's land, the land we love the best ; and to
which every friend who is gathered, draws our hearts
more closely. Help me to praise Him, while we are
still in this far-off country, and we shall sing with glad-
some voices, when fear and care are known to us only
in grateful remembrance."

To the same Friend under a family bereavement.
" Edinburgh, September 19, 1834. — ... I long to
know how you have sustained the blow, and what have
been the exercises of your soul since it was struck. I
trust you have been enabled throughout, to view it but
as ' the sterner voice of love,' and to find rest from all
your grief at the footstool of the throne. Oh ! what
place of refuge is like this, when heart and flesh fail !
Where can we flee for support, but to the Rock of
Ages 1 To hide beneath the shadow of the Almighty,
when the storms of sorrow beat around us, 'is perfect
peace.' To call him Abba, Father, while He is de-
priving us of what we loved the most, is something like
a foretaste of heaven, where He shall be all in all. This
hidden joy you daily experience, for He has long been
your portion ; and his perfect fulness is never felt till
some delights have withered, and our eyes have been
opened to the vanity of time, and to the nearness of
eternity ; earth fades away as we follow the glorified

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 105

spirit to its new and holy abode, and attempt to join in
the snug of praise which fills the upper sanctuary. A
tearful and faltering song it will be, my loved friend,
so long as we are here, yet not disregarded by the God
of compassion, and not the less sweet, because a sense
of un worthiness almost makes it die on our lips. lie
will one day give it the strength and purity of angels'
praise, and we shall adore Ilirn face to face. I know
not a more intensely delightful occupation of mind, than
to look stedfastly upward for a time to see the Lamb
of God pleading for us with pity and love ; and the
Holy Spirit breathing around influences of grace, that
make heaven what it is — a place of perfect purity ;
and to see the ransomed throng casting their crowns
before the Most High, in the height of their grateful
love, and to recognize amongst them some whom we
have known as companions of our pilgrimage, when they,
like us, were creatures of sin and infirmity, longing for
that full converse with God which they could not here
enjoy, sympathizing in our sorrow for sin, and urging
us onward to the home they now have entered. True,
they are ours no longer, but they, as well as we, are of
the family of Jesus, — sweet, indissoluble bond ! Oh ! to
be among those blessed ones in his presence. The time
will soon come, dear sister in Christ, and then no more
weeping, no more pain, no more sinning against infinite
goodness. I pray for you, that the port of endless rest
may be brought so near to you in contemplation, as to
enable you to feel, that though your all were taken
away, you would be still rich, still happy.

" It affects me greatly to think, that while you were
suffering, and I knew it not, I was enjoying greater
pleasure than I have for a long time, in visiting some of
the loveliest parts of Scotland in company with dear

106 MEMOIR OF

friends. I little thought how you were engaged when
I was tracing the bounteous hand of God in fertile
valleys, or seeing the precious things of the ' lasting
hills,' that rise among lakes and rivers. Ah ! had I
known, you would have been borne in my heart through
all my wanderings ; but now I shall daily pray for you,
that you may produce the peaceable fruits of righteous-
ness, through this chastisement of your God. Is it not
joy to have a dear friend safe — safe with Jesus ? To
think of you in your sorrow, makes me love you more ;
you will learn much in sorrow that you did not know
till now ; and may I hope that, when strength and in-
clination permit, you will tell me of the things that you
have seen and heard, that I may enter into your joys
as well as your sorrows. Farewell, sweet friend."

The next letter, from which a portion is extracted,
is addressed to the same precious christian friend, and
in it, for the first time, she mentions the engagement
she had formed with Mr TV". W. Duncan, the youngest
son of her father's highly-esteemed friend, and old college
companion, the Rev. Dr Duncan of Ruthwell : —

" Edinburgh, November 20, 1834. . . . How
sweet is it to resign our treasures to a God of love,
and to follow them in thought to the sacred bliss of his
immediate presence, where they expand into new vigour,
and a joy which they could not here have known, and
lived ! Does not the one thought of their exemption
from sin, their freedom from the dread of ever again
grieving the Saviour, make one long to be with them,
where all is peace and purity ? Oh ! to be ready when
the call is heard ! Strange, that sin should ever acquire
an ascendancy in us, when we know that ' the end '
draws near ! Would that it were so nailed to the cross
of Jesus, that we could never see it in any light but

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 107

that of abhorrence. I wish I were near you for a little
time, my dearest friend; I selfishly wish it, because I
am sure you would help my slow and wavering feet to
run the race set before me. I have profited little by
the trials that have entered into my lot, and each day
discloses some evil to be struggled against, or some
corruption that I had long since thought in a measure
vanquished, rising with new vigour, and surprising me
into sin. How difficult is it to keep the heart, and how
impossible to serve God without doing so !

" Our circle of acquaintance is on the increase, but
it is not less than self-denial to pass much time in society,
unless it consists of friends, and those who can improve
and sympathize with me in the best things. This feeling
grows upon me, and leads me to evade it in many ways.
I fear this is selfish, yet how little good can I do in
company ! and how little do I ever obtain ! Tell me
what you think about this, my dear friend. A true
friend in Christ is invaluable, and the few who are so
kind as to be my friends in this sense, possess my
warmest love ; I hope I may always count you among
the number.

" You have of late been living much on the confines
of the unseen world, and getting your spirit brought
into sweet accordance with the will of God ; you have
tasted much of his goodness, and have been preparing
for the morning of joy that shall follow the night of
weeping. I know the tender and subdued frame into
which you have been brought, and I pray God it may
be increased, and that all your life you may be glad
when memory refers to this mournful and precious
season. Is not the christian life unlike all other things,
in the abounding of joy when tribulation is heaviest ?
I long for the time when all the world shall know what

108 MEMOIR OF

this means, and all hearts shall resign themselves to
God. . . . Why is it, my loved friend, that we
have so little real christian fellowship with those we
love, while health and time remain to us ? There is so
often an approach to the subject, without its leading to
anything that may warm our affections, or elevate our
dull hearts farther above the passing scene. Is it that
the vanities of time engross us, so that we are unwilling
to embody in words, wishes which we feel to be too
evanescent, lest the action of the next hour should bring
upon us a charge of inconsistency ? Ah ! we do not
remember that the Searcher of hearts knows all that
may be concealed from our fellow-pilgrims. I am con-
vinced there would be more consistent watchfulness, if
we sometimes gave them a look of what was passing in
our hearts ; and this is only an incidental advantage
among many direct ones, for we might learn much by
placing our hopes and fears by the side of others. For
myself, I feel that, if I were greatly rejoicing in the hope
which maketh not ashamed, the reference to it would
be more frequent and more fervent than it is. I have
been trying for the last fortnight, but I find a danger
of being obtrusive, and injuring the best of causes.
Truly, wisdom is necessary to the child of God. . .
" We are not without our trials this winter ; my
brother G. is unable to attend school. ... If this
illness be the means of leading him to the Saviour, it
will be cause of joy, and not of grief. He loves mamma,
and listens to all she says to him with deep interest ;
but how delightful it would be to see him devote him-
self heartily to God ! You know the heart of a sister
when she longs to see her brother walk decidedly and
steadily in the truth. Will you join me in praying for
this dear boy ? . . .

liABT LUNDIE DUNCAN. 109

"I am informed by a mutual friend that you have
heard a piece of intelligence concerning me, which I
am at a loss to know what wind has blown southward.
My dearest F., I ought to have told you of this before,
but for my great aversion to write about it. Yes, my
dear friend ! my lot is cast — and I trust it is the Lord,
my heavenly and only Father, who has decided it. I
have been engaged, since spring, to the son of my be-
loved papa's dearest friend. I look forward to the
future, if with some trembling and fear, with a coun-
terbalancing mixture of hope in the God who has led
and guided me all my life, and of confidence in the
friend whom I have so deeply trusted. We have met
during the summer, but are now separated. I feel that
correspondence unfolds points of character which per-
sonal intercourse does not do so well. You do not
know how long young clergymen in Scotland are some-
times obliged to wait, before they obtain a place in the
vineyard to which they have devoted themselves. It
may be years, — but we have from the first left all in
the hands of our covenant God, and He will do all
things well. I love the prospect of being engaged
through life in winning souls to Him, and of having
extended opportunities of usefulness. But it is a re-
sponsible and solemn post. Oh ! for a spirit that would
willingly give up all for Jesus, and endure whatever
He lays upon me. There are trials connected with my
present situation which I did not know before, yet they
are pleasant ones in one sense. But you will pray for
me, and will now sometimes blend another name with
mine in the petitions which I value above many things.
I need your counsel, my beloved friend ; give it me
faithfully and freely. Tell me to set my affections on
things above, and not to permit either happiness or

110 MEMOIR OF

grief to take too great possession of me. It is wrong
to have filled so much paper with what relates to my-
self, at a time when your spirit is so differently engaged ;
but I know from the sorrow I felt in your affliction, that
you will not disregard my state of mind. It is pleasant
to forget self in sympathy with others ; it gives new
impulse to the thought, and lightens the load that may
be weighing us down. When I think of all the events
of April 1832, which are as distinctly remembered as
if it were but yesterday, the evanescence of all earthly-
things comes before me. Then I was in the deep
waters of my first sorrow, and it seemed as if I could
never be again very happy here. Those days look
mournful, but sacredly beloved ; yet different feelings
have the ascendancy, — my own papa's place never can
be filled, — oh no, not in the least degree ; but there is
more hope, and more calm happiness in looking forward,
tli an I could then believe that any earthly prospect
could afford me. I want none but such as comes from
God, and is built upon his love ; and I shall watch my
deceitful heart, and try all things by the test of his
word. Heaven is the only place where there can be
no disappointment or sorrow, and the reason is, that
sin is banished from its holy mansions. Then let me
wratch against sin, or the supports on which I lean will
give wTay, and pierce me through. There is no true
peace, but such as cometh from above. n

Of her beloved father, whose memory was present
to her in joy and in sorrow, and never failed to open the
sluices of filial reverence and strong affection, she writes
to a friend in Kelso, on occasion of going to the sculptor's
to see a marble tablet to his memory, before it was sent
to the place of sepulture — a tablet which was a token
of affectionate remembrance from his parishioners : —

MART LTJNDIE DUNCAN. Ill

u How feeble is any memorial in comparison with the
affection that delights to linger round the departed — to
recall his image — and to dwell upon his words ! Is it
not striking, that even of those most loved and most
lamented, it may be so truly said, ' Their memory and
their name is gone ? ' They appeared indispensable to the
performance of a thousand duties, and their removal
seemed likely to make a chasm that could not soon be
filled ; — but the grave has closed over them — they are
gone — another steps into the vacant place, taking on
himself the duties, and acquiring the interest in the
hearts of those around him, which had belonged to his
predecessor. Is it not well that a Christian's home
and happiness are in heaven, and that, however men
may forget, their God remembers them ? It makes
one humble to see how easily one's part is taken, and
work done by others ; but at such times the unchang-
ing love of God becomes unspeakably precious. To try
to leave our lasting remembrance on earth, is writing
our name on the sand ; but if our Lord has written it
on the palms of his hands, we need not care how
quickly the restless waves efface it from the earth."

These extracts have brought us near the close of her
twentieth year. But before leaving it, a gleaning from
the diary, at various dates, will put us in possession of
her views on some subjects, and the uniform state of
her soul, waiting on, and following hard after, God : —

Diary. — "June 26. — Last night I read Mr C.'s ac-
count of my beloved Isabella Gordon, with many tears
and longings that, if God takes me away as early, I
may be as willing to go, and as joyful in the prospect
of eternity." — After going minutely through the details
of that touching " entrance into rest," she sums up the
character of the friend she so much loved and admired,

112 MEMOIR OF

and whose early removal so much resembled her own :
— " My loved friend had been, she feared, too happy in
the few months of her married life. She was the charm
of her circle. . . . She lived for the happiness of
others — there was a crucifixion of self — her love of
truth, and her tenderness of conscience, were great; —
it was her constant aim to be useful to others. . . .
Who would not wish to resemble her who has been so
suddenly taken from us, to a glorious and early eter-
nity ? Never, my friend, shall I forget thee. We
shall meet again."

On occasion of a passing fear lest the sojourn of a
friend from a far country in her mother's house, should,
in some degree, interfere with the interchange of senti-
ment between them, she wrote : —

"July 15. — I must conquer that pride, which makes
one averse to the idea of being laid on the shelf.
Why should I think of self rt all ! Oh ! my F." (the
friend in the south to whom her most interesting letters
were addressed), " how unlike is my spirit to thy holy
and submissive one ! When shall I see thee ? I feel
as though thou wouldst shed over me a part of thy
humble and steady devotion. "

"July 2$. — Yesterday my heart was with those dear
friends at Kelso and Ruthwell who compassed the altar
of the Lord, and in praying for them my soul caught
a portion of the love of Jesus. It is true that blessings
sought for others are returned to ourselves, and there
are few pleasures like that of communion of spirit with
absent friends at the throne of mercy."

"August 1. — Freedom has dawned this morning on
the British colonies. No more degraded lower than
the brutes — no more bowed down with suffering from
which there is no redress — the sons of Africa have ob-

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 113

tained the rights of fellow-subjects — the rights of man,
the immortal creation of God. Now they may seek
the sanctuary fearless of the lash ; — they may call their
children their own. Hope will animate their hearts,
and give vigour to their efforts. Oh ! for more holy
men to show them the way of salvation ! The Lord
keep them from riot and idleness ! They have been so
little taught, that He only can avert confusion and
tumult, as the result of their joy. Some Christians
there are among their number, who will influence the
others. My poor fellow-travellers through life's short
wilderness, may I meet with many of you in heaven,
where even I can hope to dwell, through the love of my
risen Lord ! There none will despise the negro, whom
Jesus has pitied and redeemed."

In anticipation of a Highland tour, in the society of
those she most loved, she writes her purposes of keeping
her own heart, and aiding the hearts of her associates : —

"August 24.— To-morrow, D.V., we shall set out
on our long anticipated tour. Will it bring all the en-
joyment it has promised ? I wish to go in the fear of
God, remembering Him in whatever company I am, and
seeking to keep those I love best near Him. Oh ! may
He help me so to do ! We shall praise Him in his
beautiful temple : and glow with love to Him amid the
wildness and magnificence of nature. What double joy
it gives to be his children ! What serenity to go out
leaning on Him ! I heard Mr Candlish, on the man
who wished to save his five brethren from hell. — His
remarks on friends loving as immortal beings, who
should only regard each other in another world accord-
ing to their mutual influence in preparing for it, were
beautiful, and fired my desires, as well as those of W.
W. D., who was in another part of the church, to walk

H

114 MEMOIR OF

as a child of light, and to be helpful to my dear ones in
the best things ; for we shall blend our voices in the
angelic song ; and it is sweet to cherish the tenderest
bonds only in the Lord."

Letter to a young Cousin, September 18.

" We were much delighted with our Highland tour,
in the course of which I saw finer scenery than I had
ever done before. The spot to which my mind reverts
with deepest interest, is Crinan Loch. We saw it when
it was pure and calm as glass, reflecting the sunset glow,
and bounded by dark hills. Two or three sloops, with
their white sails expanded, rested on the waters, and the
hill on which we stood was covered with rich heather.
A gentleman who joined our party, said he had never
seen more exquisite beauty in Italy.

" The last few days we were confined to inns and
steam-boat cabins by heavy rain, and were very glad
in the evening of the sixth to find ourselves once more
in Edinburgh. We have been much interested since
then, in attending the scientific meetings, and seeing
the * wise men,' whose names we have so often heard.
We saw the venerable premier enter the city. Amid
crowds of people a passage was made wide enough to
admit his carriage, while hats, handkerchiefs, and cheers
filled all the air with motion, as the flags of the proces-
sion waved along Waterloo Bridge. The Calton Hill
and all the windows and house-tops were peopled. It
was a grand sight. I went with some friends to a
concert held in ' Lord Grey's saloon.' It had been got
up in a day, so the less we say of the music the better
My heart beat high when the house rang with cheers,
on the entrance of the high-minded statesman. He
bowed, and smiled benignantly, and the chorus struck

MAKY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 115

up a song about 'The fame of his name who had made
the people free/ The saloon, with its bull' and blue
ornaments and chandeliers, reminded me of Alladin's
wondrous palace, that arose in a night."

Such was a part of the enthusiasm of the time ; it
lias passed away, and men have at least learnt that the
Reform Bill is not the panacea for all wounds. May
they hasten to learn that reform must go deeper before
the nation can find rest ! In the mean time, Mary's
unusual burst of gaieties had not moved her mind from
its chosen resting-place, as her diary, dated the day
after this letter, proves.

Diary. — " September 19. — The happy month is ended
this day, by the departure of the last of the party.
Seldom have expectations of enjoyment been so well re-
alized, as in this case. A portion of beautiful weather,
.magnificent scenery, and kind friends, have made this
a season of much pleasure, — not unmixed, it is true, but
what is in this world ? The scientific meeting, and the
triumphal coming of Earl Grey, have occupied us since
our return. We had one quiet walk to the Botanic
Gardens, where we read part of a sermon on prayer.
May the God of mercy send his Spirit to him who com-
posed and preached that sermon, that many souls may
be the fruit of his labour ! May his inward life be re-
newed day by day ! This shall be my prayer, and oh !
may my influence be of a holy kind ! May I help him
to resist evil, and cherish love to God, and purity of
conscience ! . . This morning we joined in prayer,
and felt it sweet to commit each other to Him who never
slumbers ; and in his light may we walk till we meet
again ! Last night, when Dr D., etc., were about to set
out by the mail, we all knelt together and prayed for
this dear but separated family. There is a joy in prayer.

116 MEMOIR OF

— Oh that I had known more of it in this united form !
To-morrow, I trust W. W. will be strengthened in body
and spirit for the performance of duty ; and may a desire
of converting sinners be his first and ruling motive.
'The blessing of Him who dwelt in the bush' go with
him.,,

Diary. — "Dec. 1. — I spent the evening with Miss

, and had some profitable talk. I love her much,

and feel more alive and stedfast after such hours. The
reading of Charles of Bala's life, has shown me what
God can do in sanctifying his people, and making them
meet for his own inheritance, and I hoped it was the
beginning of better things for me, and that to live to
Him, and have his will done in me would be, as I have
often resolved without success, hereafter much more my
object. Eut though I had some time of prayer that
refreshed me, pride crept in."

Her experience of this chronic disease, which has
been the afHiciion of the children of Adam ever since
he was cast out of Eden, and which has forced thou-
sands to enter into the sympathies of Paul's complaint,
" when I would do good, evil is present with me," was,
at this time of good and hopeful resolution, specially
verified ; and the diary traces the causes of wounding
her conscience, with simplicity and sincere self-examina-
tion. A single extract is given to show the wTatch she
kept over her state of mind, and the exact account to
which she called herself for every emotion en which
conscience set its stigma. M Gn Thursday morning, rose
late, and had little time to pray. On the way to Stock-
bridge school, read a French play, which so occupied
me that I had not my usual interest in teaching the
children. On Friday was impatient to get oil" to the
Canongate school, and was rather cross in hearing my

MART LUNDIE DUNCAN. 117

sister's history lesson. In the evening went to Mr

's. He told me they thought me clever, and the

foolish words did me harm the whole evening. I felt
an assumption of something. . . Next day I sought
the small, too much neglected, chamber, where I have
so often poured out my prayers to God. I had scarce
visited it for days, — a friend's presence had prevented
me having it to myself. Nothing can keep the heart
but converse with God in solitude. Without that, con-
fusion enters ; sins prevail ; and on awaking we find
we have gone away backward. I wept and prayed for
pardon, and a new, entirely new heart. I thought that
my example might injure the children, whom 1 ought
to lead in the good way,"

This is the closing entry in the diary for the year
1834. Before changing the date, a specimen of letters
to Mr Duncan may be useful, as exhibiting the turn of
her intellectual powers when at ease, and the course of
her reflections on the union of mind with another, which
she had in prospect.

Extracts of Letters to Mr Duncan in 1834.
" Every one says I do not allow myself enough of
sleep ; but when my days are much broken up, the still
evening hour is very valuable ; and if I am awaked by
a bright sunbeam at early morn, how can I but spring
to meet it, and snatch some calm ana refreshing thought
and reading before the bustle begins ? Are not these
reasons valid? Sometimes I fall asleep for ten minutes
(not more) during the day, and feel strengthened. Oh!
how little can I do at most ! How ill could I afford to
pass as many hours in the land of forgetfulness as some
people do ! I long to spend my short fast fleeting life,
as an intelligent immortal being ought, ' redeeming the

118 MEMOIR OF

time/ as one who knows that soon the record of her
deeds will be filled up."

" Nov. 19. — I know not if I ever expressed to you
what I have often felt, that if I was losing sight of my
mercies, or forgetting that I do not deserve the smallest
of those thousand blessings that have been given me, I
never felt any thing more salutary than a visit to some
lowly cottage, where another child of Adam, and per-
haps a far better child of God, was suffering from
privation or pain. Such a sight recalls me to myself,
and sends me away humble and grateful. ... I
must ask you to thank our Preserver with me, for an
escape from danger I was unconsciously incurring some
weeks ago. You remember the sick woman I told you
of. The doctors had not ascertained the nature of her
disease, and the last time I went, her daughter had
been taken ill. It has been too surely proved that it
was typhus fever ; and though they are recovering, the
eldest son, on whom their support in some measure de-
pended, has been cut off in three days' illness, and one
of the little children is very ill. Poor things ! I hope
the hand of God is heavy on them for good ; but I knew
not that I was going where I might be seized by the
breath of fatal infection ; but my God who watches the
meanest of his flock, has shielded me from danger.

" To-day we have gone through the Writers' and
Advocates' Libraries, and while we admired the mag-
nificence of the principal rooms, it was in a little side
apartment that we paused, for there the Covenant of
our Fathers, and the Confession of Faith, were unfolded
to us. They are solemn and affecting documents, and
we long lingered over the writing, dimmed by unsparing
time. The writing of the unfortunate and misguided
Mary, Queen of Scots, attracted our attention. How

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 1 1 9

could a lively, elegant young creature, reared in France,
govern the Caledonians of the sixteenth century? We
saw a flag from Flodden, * Veritas vincit,' and views of
Edinburgh one hundred and forty years ago, when the
Nor-Loch flowed over the site of the North Bridge, and
the New Town was not. It is bewildering to glance
over so many books (the collected labours of centuries),
as are enclosed within the walls of these Libraries, — it
is so small an inroad one individual can make on their
massy lore ! so little of the wisdom that is scattered
throughout the world, or even assembled in a room, we
can attain to !

" But if we be ' wise unto salvation,' and steadily
advance in those pursuits that enlarge the mind and
strengthen its capacities, living as the children of the
Highest ought to live, with our observant faculties alive
to all the sources of instruction and harmony that sur-
round us, we shall be very happy here, and O ! how
happy in those regions, where no barrier shall oppose
our mental progress ! There is intense pleasure in the
full exercise of every faculty. What will the delight
be, where a blaze of heavenly light discloses to us the
counsels and the character of the Eternal ? Does it not
animate you in the pursuit of knowledge and of piety,
of all .that will exercise the mind, and elevate devotion,
to think of that glorious period ? O ! let us fill up
wisely our little day, for time is short. Since I could
think, it has been my impression that our individuality
of character will be retained, though all the dross be
purged away in heaven. It seems to me, therefore,
particularly important that we should watch the forma-
tion and progress of our tastes, habits, and joys ; for
who would not desire to be as like the angels that excel,
as can be permitted ? Who would bind himself down

120 MEMOIR OF

to comparative lowness ? — But I must cease. I fear
that I am degenerating into earthly feeling. He that
is least shall be greatest. He that lives nearest, in
humble penitence and love, to his benign Redeemer,
shall be most blessed among the enraptured throng.
Be this, then, our ambition, the only destination we aim
at, to live at the foot of the cross, abhorring ourselves
for the sins that made the Son of God to suffer and
die. Redeeming love is the note that will tremble most
sweetly on the harp3 of eternity, which even angels,
who have not required an atonement, i will lean to
hear.' There is no view of heaven so touching and so
lovely as that in which we see the Lamb of God dwell-
ing among the spirits He has so dearly bought, and
feeling repaid for his pains and agonies, by the joy that
fills them, and the grateful and adoring love they bear
to Him."

"Edinburgh, 1834. — Quietness is a great delight;
much more is accomplished, v/hen you are not startled
by the thought that there are fifty things you ought to
do ; and even thought flows more freely, and affection
wears a sweeter, calmer aspect, when the hours glide
peacefully on, and contemplation is not driven away by
life's small but engrossing cares. Yet, to make quiet-
ness pleasant, there are several requisites. The heart
must be at peace with its Maker, and feel that his words
are its most loved meditation, — his perfections the study
it would rest on, till it becomes tinged with their purity,
and elevated a little nearer to their sublime meridian.
Then, quietness is blest, and those with whom we asso-
ciate must be kindred spirits, with the same aims and
hopes, and some congeniality of thought and pursuit, —
with some energy to keep life from sluggishness, and
some enthusiasm, ready to kindle at all that is noble,

MAKY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 121

or melt at the sorrows of others, — to stamp the flying
moments with acts, the result of feelings regulated by
the word of God, and seeking first his glory. There
must be ready sympathy in each other's joy or pain,
and such an absence of self, that in its exercise our
personal feelings will often be forgotten ; and i to remove
the thorns that wound the breast we love,' will be the
dearest employ that the round of earthly things can
furnish ! Plow much we can give a character to our
days, by cherishing the best dispositions, and struggling
wTith those that haunt us like spirits of darkness, by
saying at once, and from the heart, I am thine, O Lord !
to serve Thee for ever ; to shed a holy influence, as Thou
dost enable me, on those I love ; to enjoy, with grateful
praise, the blessings Thou hast given me ; and to live
for the eternal welfare of mankind."

" Edinburgh, Dec. 1834. — It has always been the case
with me, to be very jealous of the improvement of time.
The weeks glide on, and mingle with the irreclaimable
past. Is our improvement commensurate with their
flight ? Do new volumes of nature's wonderful book
unfold their stores to us? Do more just and philo-
sophical ideas supersede those which might have been
crudely and rashly formed ? Does deeper knowledge
of Scripture grow upon us, showing the riches of divine
wisdom, as it was not felt before, and causing our hearts,
in understanding the love of God, to expand with charity
to all mankind, while that charity manifests itself in
acts of self-denying and holy zeal to those who are placed
within our sphere ? Such inquiries throng on me, as
Sabbath succeeds Sabbath — those weekly marking-
places, that tell us time is gone. I would fain rescue
it from vain oblivion, by doing something that might
leave a more perceptible effect on my mind than my

122 MEMOIR OF

occupations, necessarily rather desultory, have had this
winter. It is sad to feel energies within, that are not
called into play, and to know that the gathered wisdom
of time is resting on shelves, while we may be living in
indolent quiescence, only half alive to its existence, and
content to wend our silent way, like a slow stream, to
life's close without it. You may remind me, that, when
that period comes, it will but little signify whether
the noblest thoughts have found admission to our
hearts, or whether small and simple labours have fallen
to our hands, and the mind sought little more than they
could furnish for its aliment, provided the one thing
needful were secure. True ; but the mental powers,
if thrown in upon themselves, sustain severe injury,
and may fall into a deep sleep, which often terminates
only with life ; while their healthful and vigorous exer-
cise doubles their capabilities, and adds a second life,
as it were, to the happy man who has seized them be-
times, as his portion. And the i one thing needful ' is
fraught with themes for thought that ennoble and refine
more than earth's fairest scenes. . . . But I might
thus run on all day. The sum of the matter is this,
that I mean to read more, if possible, and to take such
books as Jebb and Lowth for my companions, that, while
my taste is gratified, it may be by means of the best
things ; and that, while my mind is informed, it may
be fixed on the central point of bliss. And you, dear
friend, — are your hours conscientiously spent in im-
provement? I often muse on those circumstances which
have thrown one so fond of action into a state of seclu-
sion and ease for a time. . . . The motives which
should urge you to diligence in study, you know ; the
happy effect of it, experience would teach. Will you
not try to do something that may make this winter a

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 123

bright spot to look back to ? I commit you again and
again to God. I am comforted by the sweet expressions
of submission that sometimes fall from your pen. Still
I fear that your character may not be improved, as it
ought, by those wise but mysterious dispensations that
have given colour to your lot. . . . You speak of
being left like a spade to rust. Nay, but you are being
highly tempered, that you may be of more efficient ser-
vice ; and it is far indeed from the intent of the gracious
Husbandman, to let rust and damp settle on you. May
we both be enabled to submit to the requisite discipline,
and let our Lord make of us what He will ! "

"Edinburgh, Dec. 1834 Oh, my dear

W., does not every day show more of the evils of our
alienated hearts ? I tremble to speak of my own state,
for hard experience has proved me irresolute and fluctu-
ating to the last degree. Yet to you I shall say, that
for some weeks past, I have been seeking that precious,
but very difficult attainment, a ' single eye/ to see God
always, to do his commandments, and reverence his
presence, not only in hours of retirement, but in whatever
I do. The attempt shows me my extreme feebleness ;
and when I remember that it is six years and a half
since I came to the table of the Lord, resolved to give
up all my soul to Him, sadness fills my heart ; for how
many, who did not know Him then, have far outstript
me since ? He has given me mercies and chastisements,
like a tender parent ; yet I am only on the very thres-
hold of the temple. Oh, when shall I be a lively stone,
firmly built in, and resting on the Chief Corner Stone ?
I have had some pleasant times of prayer, and sometimes
felt the blessing of continuing in a praying spirit ; but
it seems as if the turning of a feather were enough to
take it away. I never have felt more awake to the

124 MEMOIR OF

influence companions have on the state of the mind
With the giddy or hardened, the sweet savour of spirit-
uality is weakened ; while those who live near to God,
lead us to Him. Intercourse with such is one of our
highest blessings. I have seen more of my sweet friend

Miss , than usual, and each time have returned

refreshed and happy. My love for such associates is
very strong and decided. My own will would be always
to be with those who are much more experienced than I.
But this is selfish. I want to work for my Master
among poor wanderers, and should rejoice to lead any
nearer to Him : yet, I am so much more apt to receive
injury from those who are not decidedly pious, than to
do them good, that time past with them is commonly
subject of after regret. I am nothing but weakness, but
my Saviour is strong. Is it not delightful to come home,

as I did the other evening, from Miss , with the

heart glowing and filled with love to God ? Oh ! TV.,
I wish you knew my friend ; her consistency and devo-
tion of heart are beautiful. I wonder she can be at the
trouble to speak to me. But she sees that I love her
much, and she wishes to do me good for the sake of
Jesus. We are both much occupied, but the few times
when we can meet brighten my days greatly. Our
friendship is of an entirely christian character. I do
not think we ever had five minutes talk on any other
subject, and she is an intellectual Christian ; so you may
fancy our style of converse. . . . Jeany has come
at last ! (The ' Orphan's Stay ' formerly alluded to.)
It looks small in print, and is a very feeble transcript
of my friend's eventful life, yet I hope even it may be
useful to some. It is not without its good effect to print
a little. It shows the smallness of one's attainments, as
they might not have been discovered if not so called out

MAKV LT7NDIE DUNCAN. 125

w' May a blessing ever follow you, — ever keep your
heart, making you a shining light ; drawing you near
to the gates of heaven, and enabling you to lead many
thither with you ! Such are the breathings of my soul
for you, and more numerous and more distinct than
these. The God of peace will fulfil all our petitions."

126 MEMOIR OF

CHAPTER VI.

CORRESPONDENCE.

The event which most delighted her mind in the open-
ing of the year 1835, was a letter from a London school-
fellow, whose intellectual powers and pleasant temper
had always endeared her, but who hitherto had been
alien to the covenant of peace, and though educated
carefully in the christian path, had delayed to unite
herself to Christ. The revolution wrought by all-sub-
duing grace in her heart, had revived the remembrance
of Mary Lundie, and she wrote to her for the first time.
The tearful but beaming joy wTith which the glad news
was received, was far beyond what appears in the reply
to that communication. Yet a portion of it may be
interesting.

" Edinburgh, January 1835. . . . Though the
casual mention of your name in letters was all I had
heard of you, yet the very pleasant school days we
passed together were not forgotten, and I have often
thought of you enjoying a lively chat with Miss Isabella
Gordon, in the short time before morning lessons began.
You will smile at the part of the day I have fixed on ;
but whether it be that this associates you with one I
so much loved, or from some other cause, I know not,
this scene brings you more vividly before me than any
other. But if I loved you before, your letter draws

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 127

my heart towards you much more, for it contains ex-
pressions of a change of heart which mark you as blessed
indeed. I thank God, my dear friend, that He has
permitted you to find the pearl of great price, that will
not elude your grasp when earthly things fade away.
May the God of all power keep you stedfast, and teach
you daily more of himself ! The hidden life of converse
with Him is full of peace — but oh ! how easily, when
we neglect it, do our weak hearts fall away, and lose
the nearness to Him, which makes us feel, though, alas !
at few and short intervals, that heaven is not a land
very far off. Always, dear M. A., have I thought
that our heavenly Father had purposes of mercy to-
wards you. You were the child of many prayers ; and
even when you have turned away, with a smile, from
any thing relating to religion, I sometimes thought the
smile was assumed, more to hide what you felt, than
because you did not feel. And now, you have chosen
the right way, in the full vigour of your judgment, and
with the consent of your whole heart, and I can under-
stand the new happiness the choice has given you, —
you have my earnest prayers that the blessing of God
may follow you continually.

" I am reading a book by our old friend Sharon
Turner, over whose prolix history we spent some of
our mornings at No. 69, — ' The Sacred History of the
World;' and I amuse our circle at dinner by telling
how excellent he has found thistles as artichokes, and
dandelions as lettuce, not to mention the fine bread
which can be made from either saw-dust or bones.
But I cannot get the creatures to do any thing but
laugh at these enlightened statements, which would
well nigh erase the name of famine from the page of
human sufferings. But, seriously, the book is worth

128 MEMOIR OF

reading, and I have a great regard for the worthy old
gentleman who wrote it. Believe me (in the hope that
you will again write to me) very affectionately yours."

Letter to her Correspondent near London.
" Edinburgh, Jan. 16, 1835. . . I have had much
comfort in thinking of you since receiving your last
kind letter, it is so fully expressive of the peace which
our blessed Lord makes his children to know in the day
of trial, when, more than at any other time, He makes
himself known in the fulness of his covenant love. Is
that support still continued, my beloved friend, and
can you still say, all is well ? Has God made your soul
to grow in this afflictive season, and have you felt the
sweetness of communing with Kim, and so renewing
your strength when it was ready to fail ? Those times
of prayer, though, alas ! too seldom experienced by me,
wherein we can pour out cur whole hearts before the
Lord, and feel that He is speaking peace to our souls,
and that we are indeed united to our Holy Saviour,
are worth whole days of distraction by the things of
time. In those short and hallowed glimpses of the
character of God, there is some faint realization ot
what our feelings will be, when all the storms and all
the deadening calms of life are past, and we have
entered into the rest that remaineth. But at present,
the calms are more dangerous to me than the tempest.
Day follows day, and I make little advance in the way

I have so long loved. Do you pray for me, dear F ?

Do you ask Him, who has redeemed my soul from death,
to preserve my feet from falling ? I should, indeed, be
discouraged, did I only remember myself, my dead-
ness of heart, and my frequent forge tfuln ess of my best
friend. But I look on my risen Redeemer, and hope

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 129

revives : I will cling to Him as long as I live, the Lord
enabling me ! There are moments when I long for a
/ to whom I could unfold all my heart, and from
whose faithful counsel and christian love I might derive
much benefit and comfort. I think you would be that
friend, were you near. There is one here, and when
circumstances permit us to meet, a sweet savour is
shed around more than one succeeding day. — I have
many christian friends, but it requires an attraction of
heart, which may be better felt than described, to fill

exactly the place Miss does. Now, do not think

me a romantic girl, for my love to her is founded on
love to God ; she is older, and her experience much
greater than mine ; her singleness of aim marks her as
one ' whom the Lord hath blessed.* You wrill tell me
to look to . Him for the support I too much seek in
earthly friendship. — I do ; and He is ever willing to
draw near to my soul, whether burthened with anxiety,
or deadened by intercourse with the world. — / do not
love, the tcorld, and its atmosphere is not that I desire
to breathe — yet of late my circle of acquaintance has
enlarged, though I am always trying to keep it small,
and I have lost some time in visiting, which I cannot
spare. Does not life appear very short and uncertain
to you now ? And do you not long to spend it all to
the glory of God ? *\Ve have no time to trifle, and the
years which so swiftly mingle with the waters of eter-
nity, admonish us that the record of our days, in the
book of God, is coming nearer to its close ; and oh,
what peace is in the hope that we are awaiting that
period in the strength of our Saviour ! . . . Death
is not dreadful to those who hope in Jesus. I have
been struck with the answer of a little child to a dear
friend of ours, who did not leave him during months of

I

130 MEMOIR OF

severe suffering. She asked him if he feared to die ? He
looked earnestly in her face and said, ' I don't know
much about the pain of dying; I have not thought
much of it, — but surely you don't mean to ask me if I
am afraid to go where Jesus is, and to see my own
mamma ? ' There is something in the confiding faith
of babes, that speaks more to the heart than the most
erudite discourse could do. It is felt to be truth, and
Jesus is shown forth in the glory of his love as a
4 teacher of babes.' Let u§ receive His teaching in the
same spirit, and try, as the lowly Tersteegen did, to
forget self in His presence. Have you seen his life ?
It is full of spirituality, and well repays a careful read-
ing. Some passages are rather mystical, but I do not re-
member ever to. have met with so beautiful an example
of poverty of spirit. He was made the instrument of
bringing many to the cross, though his constant desire
was to be permitted to be alone with God. Public speak-
ing was self-denial to him, but it was richly blessed.
That book has given a colour to my thoughts for the
last few weeks. Will you tell me if any thing has been
interesting you lately, and I shall try to read it too.
You know my delight in sympathising with friends in
Christ on sacred subjects. I have gone on steadily
reading Watts' Hymns, though I have little hope that
I have been accompanied by you — you were too sadly
interrupted. Will you now join me in reading, each
evening, the little book I send ? Many passages are
very sweet, and afford matter for approving thought.
We both love the Psalms, and these reflections will not
make us love them less."

Diary. — " Feb. 1. — The second month of 1835, com-
mences with a Sabbath. This day should be helpful to
me, in serving God through the whole month. It may

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 131

originate resolutions to live to God, and lie may so
draw near me, in answer to prayer, that I may know
the joy of his presence. In reflecting on the circum-
stance of my having so little real christian joy, I find
the reason stated in some book, in a way that conscience
feels to be true — ' Joy is incompatible with a careless
walk.' I know my walk is such. I lose the savour of
divine things, and trifles turn me out of the way. The
course to take, is to determine that, whatever are the
employments of the day, I will make this my first ob-
ject, and seek to get my thoughts disengaged from earth,
and fixed on divine things. It too often happens that
they wander, and I do not know what I need, or what
to ask for. There are, indeed, various hindrances ; but
may God pour out on me the spirit of prayer and sup-
plication ;-^while I muse, make the fire to burn. Now,
let me seek more solemnity in coming before Him, re-
membering to whom I speak ; and more knowledge of
my sins ; and more particular confession, and casting
away of each ; and a clearer sense of the wonderful
love of Jesus, who casts them all away ; and to feel
the Spirit's teaching, who can make light to shine in a
dark place, and then my times of prayer will be exceed-
ing precious. On the morning of the 5th, I fainted at
four o'clock. My strength was turned to weakness, and
I felt how soon I might be cut off in the midst of my
days. I saw my dependence on God for every breath.
and for the strength which I have so often misapplied.
I desire to have a near view of death, that I may live
prepared to meet it. When Jesus speaks peace, it is
not dreadful. I want such a clear view of my accept-
ance in Him, as will take away the monster's sting.
That morning I read Halyburton's Dying Experience.
His end was peace."

132 MEMOIR OF

To her Correspondent near London.
"Edinburgh, March 5. — I thank you much, my very
dear friend, for your two precious letters. The last
arrived was peculiarly touching, because it referred to
one who was the object of your anxious, yet hoping,
solicitude, when it was written, but has for some time
been in another sphere, drinking in the streams of living
water from their source, and learning more of the hidden
things of God than we can know till we have crossed
the Jordan. It brought home to me the feeling that
' life is a vapour,' to read the expressions of your re-
signed hope, and your anxiety that the Lord might be
with your poor sufferer during his illness.1 How com-
pletely all such feelings are now swallowed up, and
exchanged for those of gratitude and triumph for him
as one of the redeemed of the earth ! You can now no
longer minister to him — you can now no longer pray
for him : all that is past. But your faith has been
strengthened by the trial ; and you have had a Pisgah
view of Canaan in parting with him, — in going with
him to the shore, where you were obliged for a little
while to remain behind, and to commit him entirely, and
without putting in your claim for self to Him to whom
he indeed belongs. Oh ! my dear friend, it is sweet to
praise God when all is smiling around us, — when our
cup runs over, and we are rejoicing in his gifts ; but
his love is more fully manifested in the time of great
tribulation, when we are called to part with our dearest
treasures, and to have the roots of our affections torn
up ; it is then that He shows himself as an all-sufficient
portion, and makes the darkest hour the most resemble

1 This letter was accidentally delayed till some time after another
had been read, which showed that the throb of all these trembling
pulses had ceased, and the suffering tenement was left vacant.

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 133

heaven, by hiding creature comforts from our view, and
Ear more than supplying their place by his own presence.
We, my dear friend, have had many proofs of his un-
changing love. Oh ! is there in our hearts the glowing
devotion which these should inspire ? I often wonder
at my cold and unsteady heart, and adore the patience
that so long waiteth to be gracious. Much more shall
I wonder when my eyes are opened in another world,
that momentary shadows could have so much power to
turn me aside, and mingle in such undue proportion
with the glorious, the immortal realities of eternity.
Affliction places us on an eminence whence we look
round and see the true magnitude of objects, and learn
how small are those that in their seasons have seemed
great to us, and how unworthy of a thought are many
that may have been suffered to mingle with our breath-
ings towards God in time of devotion. But how great
is the perversion of spirit which renders affliction a
necessary instrument to show us this in its force ! We
should be happy beings if such a view of things ever
remained with us. Convinced of this, let us seek by
constant prayer to maintain the reign of God in our
souls, to dethrone his enemies, and live in the healthful
atmosphere of humble repentance and earnest devotion.
What might we become if we always hearkened to the
voice of the Spirit within us !

" Have you not felt, dearest F , when troubled

about your own state, that if the Lord enabled you to
work for Him, you were greatly comforted, and could
look up to Him with more steady hope than before !
Every day convinces me, that, to spend any part of
our time and strength in feeding his lambs, or binding
the wounds of the weary ones of his flock, is not only
our honour and privilege, but our greatest help to ad-

134 MEMOIR OF

vancement in the christian course. It is not only that
lessons of faith are learned beside the death-beds of the
afflicted, or that, in explaining the truth to the young,
it breaks with greater clearness on ourselves ; but, by
using the talent entrusted to us by our God, it becomes
two or more : For He lays liberally to the hand of those
who desife to be spent for his glory. How good is He,
in placing us where we have opportunities to help one
of the least of these his children ! . . . I rejoice
that your dear sister has joined the visible church, and
trust that He who has begun to teach her will lead her
all the days of her life. What a happy feeling must
be experienced in leading the youngest of a pious family
to the altar of the Lord ! Oh ! how earnestly I desire
that my dear little brothers and sister may all be made
partakers of the grace of life. I think they will. The
thought never rests on my mind, that one should be
ignorant of all that it is important to know ; for grace
is free, and God is the hearer of prayer. ... I
tremble to think of my influence over the dear friend I
mentioned, but strength may be made perfect in utter
weakness. It is my desire to look beyond all passing
scenes, to my journey's end ; and my God never leaves
me long without some admonition. . . You and I,
dear friend, have the sweet hope, that, whatever befalls
us, nothing can separate us from the love of Jesus."

The letter which follows, makes the first mention of
severe headaches, from which she suffered, upon almost
every great exertion, till the final disease. The Sab-
bath services, attendance on any public meeting, her
schools, all that interested her, or moved her feelings,
produced the same distressing result ; so that her early
rising, perseverance in the use of her pen, pencil, books,
and needle, seem on recollection to have almost sur-

MART LUNDIE DUNCAN. 135

passed the power of nature. She pursued her occupa-
tions under acute pain, which was only betrayed by
Hushed cheeks, and heavy eyes, when a person with
less energy, or with less sacred motive to action, would
have reclined on a sofa, and thought herself exonerated
from all exertion.

To the Rev. W. W. Duncan.
" Edinburgh, Feb. 25. . . . My head began to
ache, so that I waited from hour to hour, thinking I
should like to be better able to write. But the foe has
not departed. These headaches have been my frequent
companions for about six weeks. I am tired of them ;
but I am trying to learn in patience to possess my soul.
A dull submission, because I cannot help it, is most
comfortless.. I would seek a willing resignation to the
will of God, and make the more careful use of my hours
of health, because they are abridged. I trust I shall
derive good from whatever my Lord may appoint for
me, and learn to value, not too highly, a world where
pain is a necessary discipline to fit me for an eternal
heritage. Blessed abode, where pain is excluded, and
sin, that deadly evil, can pollute no more ! Oh ! for
habitual nearness to that Redeemer who has prepared
it for us ! I have occasionally found, so deceitful is my
heart in its best moments, that at prayer my thoughts
have been prevented from fixing long enough on my
own case, by the prayer for you that is ever ready to
spring from my heart. Ah, what close watching is
needful to keep it right ! I am surely more unsteady
and un teachable than others ; but, I do trust, I am in
the school of Christ, lie will correct me with the rod,
when the gentle voice of love is insufficient. Is it not
blessed to have such a teacher, one who will never

136 MEMOIR OF

forsake us, even when we are untrue to ourselves ? Let
vs be his humble observant disciples. My headaches
are generally removed by a night's rest ; so you see
there is nothing that requires great fortitude. Indeed,
I should not have said all this about it, had I not been
actually suffering while I write. But how selfish to
write all this, and not a word of the events and hopes
which have been recently so much the theme of your
thoughts ! They have been much mine too ; and I
long to know what may have befallen since you wrote.
Is your mind calm, and resting solely on the divine
disposal, and are you searching for all the motives that
may influence you ? Oh ! how well it is to find all our
happiness in God, so that dark clouds do not harm us,
nor the bright days of accomplished hope divide us
from Him ! Such a state would be surely nearer heaven
than aught else upon earth. Such Tersteegen attained,
and why should not we ? When I reflect on the in-
fluence we mutually possess, I tremble for your respon-
sibility and for mine. Let it be used in drawing each
other to the source of all our blessings.

" There is in the Canongate an old Irishwoman, who
is much an object of interest to me. She lost a daughter
whom she much loved, and during the months that have
since elapsed, she has had many thoughts of her spiritual
condition, and desires to serve the God she has so long
neglected. She still looks too much to her own efforts,
and though they all prove vain, she still seems to think
she can do something for herself. 4 Qh ! I am too
unworthy,' she says ; ' I try to do my duty, and to
pray, but my heart wanders too much. I cannot live
so near God as I ought.' She does not yet see that
Jesus died for the chief of sinners, and that no work of
hers, however free from wandering, is fit to present to

MABY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 137

God without being washed in his blood. She has not
the peace and hope that come from a sense of this
cleansing and all-sufficient sacrifice. It is touching to
see the tears rolling down her thin cheeks, and to hear
her. seeking help from one so unfit to give it as I, who
am but a child compared to her, and doubly a child as
it regards the knowledge of the counsel of God. I wish
I had more wisdom, and, above all, strength constantly
to practise what I do know. Help me to pray for this
woman. I fear lest she should forget her impressions
when the season of grief passes away."

Lest some prudent persons should question the pro-
priety of her visits in such crowded and unholy localities,
as the in/nds in the Canongate are known to be, it is
right to mention, that her acquaintance with cases of
distress there, was procured from the discreet and
humane mistress of the school which she visited, and
that, in exploring the narrow lane or lofty and sometimes
broken stair, she was generally guided by one of the
pupils. It is a touching sight to see one chamber
clean and quiet, surrounded by the filth and din of
many others, and one suffering inmate, in the very core
of evil, yet " preserved in Jesus Christ." It is like a
beam of light, which contracts neither pestilence nor
pollution from its having penetrated into a noisome
dungeon, and is to be noted to the praise of his glory,
who gives to the feeblest that trust in Him, power to
walk in his ways, and find peace. Many such instruc-
tive scenes were witnessed by Mary Lundie, and it is
believed, that in them she both communicated and
received edification.

In the month of March, country air was recom-
mended for the removal of her headaches, and she, with
a younger brother, journeyed through a departing snow-

138 MEMOIR OF

storm to the dwelling of her future father-in-law. Of
the journey she says : — " The pass of Dalveen looked
so beautiful in alternate streaks of snow and greensward,
that I could not tell whether to prefer it so, or in the
rich glow of summer as I saw it before. On the way I
read Haldane's sermon, ' The Jews God's Witnesses,'
with much interest. Elliot's poetry employed me for
miles, but it leaves a sad and gloomy impression of dis-
content with the government of his country, and even
implied censure against the plans of Providence, wThich
his t pale alpine rose ' and ' sunny celandine ' cannot
dispel. But I must leave the regions of poetry; and
come to life's close companion, dull reality ! " ...
She does not mention, as one of her travelling em-
ployments, the composition of a poem, found in a scrap
book, entitled "Fragments of Spring, 1835 :" it is dated
"March 12, H. C." interpreted Heavy Coach :—

" How clear, as o'er each shortening mile
The rapid coursers fly,
Beams on the soul the gentle smile
Of faithful memory !

Joys that in other days were bright,

But dimmed by after cares,
Shine out in pure and beauteous light,

That mocks the touch of years.

Swift thought brings near the forms we love,

Voices of music's tone,
Light steps that through the silent grove,

To meet us oft have flown.

Fair mornings, when the breaking day

O'er lake and mountain wild,
Rose not more bright, in sunbeams gay,

Than our young pleasure smiled.

When round some ivy-mantled tower,

"VVe strolled the summer day,
And plucked the harebell's graceful flower

That fringed its arches grey.

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 139

With that blue wreath young hearts irere twined,

— Nor doom the fetters frail : —

The vows, then breathed to whispering- wind,
Still float on each low gale.

Fair scenes, how bright your memory is !

Ye coursers onward fly,
And teach me that the dream of bliss

Is blest reality. '

The manner in which time was spent with her friends
is thus stated : — " For myself, my head has been free
and clear, and I have tried to follow my beloved
mamma's counsel to the letter. We retire as regularly
as eleven strikes, and start up at seven, or before it ;
from eight to nine, we read Edwards' History of Re-
demption ; and in the space after prayers, search for
scripture proofs, according to a very clear and good
plan laid down in Bridges' Scripture Studies ; after-
wards I draw, read Italian or English, ride or walk,
sometimes against a stiff sea-breeze, sometimes in bright
sunshine. After dinner, B. and I learn our Hebrew
alphabet, and read for practice, in Genesis, words that
are as meaningless to us as the winds that shake the
windows, and more so, for those winds are the voice
of Him who speaks through universal nature, and call
up strange emotions of the past. AVhen awake at night
in my quiet chamber, I listen to their mournful tones
till they seem to speak to me. I smile to be obliged to
decypher the Hebrew7 words like a child in the attempt
to acquire the first step of the ladder of knowledge ;
but hope to find sufficient perseverance to acquire the
power of reading the beautiful tongue of the sweet
singer of Israel." . . . " Uncle Henry 1 tells me
the dear old cottage must soon come down — beautiful

1 The pet name of Dr Duncan.

140 MEMOIR OF

place ! If you, dear mamma, have any inhahitiveness,
you will understand how it went to my heart to hear
it condemned ; but its work is done, and the venerable
head it was built to shelter, is in another home. Why
should the fair dwelling last, when the inmate, the soul
that gave interest and pleasure to its erection, has
passed away ? "

"Ruthwell, April 21.— So dear Mrs M is freed

at last, and gone to the happy gathering-place, where
the precious redeemed are safe from suffering, and more,
— from temptation. She has seen my beloved father,
who has now for three years rejoiced with joy unspeak-
able and full of glory — while you, dear mamma, have
had many burdens to bear, and many sufferings since
that time. But they have been dealt by a Father, and
you have felt his supporting presence. This is the
evening of the dark and afflicting day, when all that was
left of him was removed from us — but he is in heaven."

The following poems were written during her resi-
dence at Ruthwell : —

" A HYMN.

0 Thou who hear'st the contrite sinner's mourning-,
And meet'st the trembling soul to Thee returning',
Bow down thine ear, and grant me answer speedy,

For I am needy.

Thou know'st the sacred vows so often broken,
Thou hear'st the words forgot as soon as spoken,
Thou seest earth's chains, of fatal lustre, twining
This heart, declining.

From the fair paths of peace too often straying,

1 wander far, my Saviour's love betraying;

Till, wounded by the thorns that mercy scatters,
I seek life's waters.

My gracious Shepherd, in thy pasture lead me;
With living streams, with heavenly manna feed me ;
With thine own voice of love, oh ! call me, guide me;
From evil hide me.

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 141

Be Thou my first, my best, my chosen treasure;
Delight my soul with love that knows no measure;
Filled with Thyself, can earth's delusions charm me?
Can Satan harm me ?

From strength to strength, my Lord will lead my spirit,
The purchased crown in Zion to inherit; —
Mine eyes shall close on time, shall cease from weeping,
In Jesus sleeping.

Then, clad in robes made white by love redeeming,
I'll veil my sight, before his glory beaming,
And ever sing his praise in accents lowly,

Whose name is holy ! "

March 22.

11 THE STAR OF HOPE.

When the star of hope is beaming
Mildly through the silent sky,

When its ray of promise streaming,
Trembles on the anxious eye ; —

Fears that chilled the spirit vanish,
Woes that bound it break their chain ;

Those pure rays descending, banish
Clouds of doubt, and storms of pain.

Brightly to the gazer's spirit,
In its light the future shines ;

Bowers of bliss his thoughts inherit;
Peace for him her olive twines.

Calmly round each rising morrow
Smile the gathered joys of years;

Days that know no shade of sorrow,
Nights undimmed by memory's tears.

Dreamer cease !— That ray of glory
Shines a light from love divine ;

Guardian love, that watches o'er thee,
Cheers thee when thy steps decline.

If in Time, so swiftly flying,
Joy's fair star so radiant seems,

Fix thine eye on realms undying,
Brighter, fairer, there it beams.

142 MEMOIR OF

If in Time, — where clouds descending",

Quick may hide it from thy sight,
Hope and peace their influence blending,

Sparkle in that beauteous light, —

Who shall tell the blaze of glory

That shall fill the land above,
When its courts arise before thee

Bright with truth and holy love !

Who shall tell thy sacred gladness

When thou lowly shalt adore
Him, who conquering sin and sadness,

Gave thee light for evermore !

Follow thou the ray illuming

Jesus o'er thy pathway flings ;
Leave earth's pleasures, falsely blooming,

That, when fairest, plant their stings.

From the cross, — the tenderest, purest,

Saddest light that ever shone,
Points to realms where peace is surest.

Pilgrim, gaze and follow on."
April 20.

A circumstance occurred at this period which gave
great joy to many attached friends, and seemed to open
views of a station of usefulness in the Church, and a
speedy union of that young pair who had not ventured
to deem such an event less than far distant. Mr Duncan
received the royal presentation to a parish in Galloway,
and being welcomed by a numerous body of parishioners,
including the leading people, he thought of nothing, but
with a thankful heart going through the necessary pre-
paration for entering on a solemn charge. He who
seeth not as man seeth, must often look upon his feeble
creatures rejoicing on the very verge of disappointment,
as also weeping at that which forms the channel for the
flow of new spiritual life into their souls. If the Chris-
tian, in the calmest season, requires, like Peter on the
water, to fix his eye on his supporting Lord, how much
more, when the wind agitates the unsteady element on

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN, 143

which he treads, does lie cling to the extended and sus-
taining arm, and cry out with sinking, drowning Peter,
" Lord, save me, I perish !" The afflictions appointed
for each) are adapted with minute and tender wisdom
to the character of the afflicted. But, on first being
brought into the wilderness, the soul cannot see the
design, or anticipate the comfort which shall afterwards
be spoken to it. It is the tempted who know how to
succour the tempted, and those that have mourned, and
had their tears dried by the power of divine consolation,
who have acquired the art of opening its treasures to
others. Some such purposes were to be accomplished
in the present instance. But, meanwhile, we have to
deal only with the joyful circumstances. The diary
contains brief allusion to it.

u March 2$. — How varied and important have been
the events of this week ! It is one never to be forgotten.
The hopes of W. TV. have been surpassed in his appoint-
ment to Urr. To us prospects looked gloomy, but our
God has seen it meet to brighten them suddenly. Fears
are turned to gladness, and doubt to praise. Since the
news came, W. AY. has been full of happiness, and says
lie thinks he cannot again be faithless. Alas! it may
require hard lessons to teach that. Since the tidings came,
I have been oppressed by headache. God blends joy
and pain in great mercy, but I have felt less able to
think and pray and resolve. Oh may He be nigh to-
morrow ! My heart is dead even under this load of
goodness. When shall my life be praise ? How easily,
by withdrawing health, could God wither earthly joy
and hope ! He may see it needful, but let me ever
keep near Him, and then no real evil can come."

After having been confined for some time by illness,
she writes : —

144 MEMOIR OF

" April 3. — The Lord was merciful and raised me up
again, and oh ! I wish to spend my time for Him. We
have not yet made a sufficiently serious business of the
great change that, within a week, has been wrought in
our prospects ; my heart is too frivolously dissipated,
but the Lord will teach me. I have been pretty indus-
trious, but not profitably so. My time is not my own.
May I use it while it flies!" " April 16. — (After re-
viewing the three years that had passed since her beloved
father was taken to his Saviour, she adds), " Oh ! that
I could be of any use, but here too I have been too much
at ease — how shall I look on this at last? Earth looks
so green, so flowery, my skies, far off, it is true, yet still
often gazed on, are so blue and tranquil, that the fair
world of peace is forgotten, and sanctification little
sought. God could startle me into a waking of awful
anguish in a moment, but great are his mercies. — Let
me wake now and live in heavenly contemplation. Let
me pray much for and with my friend in the few days
we still may be together."

The natural gracefulness which her most unstudied
expressions betray, may be traced in the following
extract from a letter to her father's sisters : —

" fiuthwell, April 20, 1835. — I have been busy over
Paley's Natural Theology, which displays the wonders
of divine goodness in an admirable manner. What
care in the construction of the eye of the mole, and the
web of the spider ! Those persons who attribute to
' blind chance, or stern necessity,' the beautiful fabric
of creation, know not what elevating and noble subjects
of meditation they lose — and yet, how cold was the re-
ligion of Paley ! Every thing goes to prove, that nothing
but the love of Jesus can expand the heart, or make it

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 145

wise unto salvation, for wise men have toiled for years
BniODg the most surprising works of God, and vet denied
their souree. I should like if you could see us canter-
ing along the smooth polished sands, where there is not
a stone to hurt the horses' feet. We watch the mirage
as it plays with the long point of Saturnness, making it
now an island, and again doubling its size by the depth
of the reflection. The Solway, too, looks so peaceful,
and the far hills of Cumberland so beautiful, with their
snowy tops gleaming in the sunshine, that one longs to
penetrate the lake-spangled valleys that lie between
them. When 1 am presented with a fragrant nosegay,
I wish, more frequently than you can know, to place it
in your hands. We live among flowers here ; and
when the sun is hid, and the wind cold, they are still
beautiful, and still speak, through the snow-flakes, of
coming summer. For me, too, they have a voice pecu-
liarly sad and touching at this season. Ah, my dear
aunts ! I know that through these melancholy days our
thoughts have run in the same channel ; each morning
brines its own remembrances. I do not regret that the
flowers bloom in vain for km — yet cannot check the
thought that he loved them, and is not here. The Para-
dise of God is fairer, and there I humbly trust we soon
shall meet. But there is a desolation in the feeling that
I am fatherless — I sometimes tremble at the clinging
affection, this feeling perhaps increases towards my be-
loved mother— but we are all in the gracious keeping
of an eternal God. I think, dear aunts, I have loved
you more since the loss of my father ; you wrere so
nearly connected, and so tenderly attached to him, that
there is a sacredness about my love for you, associated
as it is with him, more than it could be for any one apart
from such a tie."

K

146 MEMOIR OF

CHAPTER VII.

VENERABLE CHRISTIAN VISITS TO THE POOR

REV. JOHN BROWN PATTERSON.

From Dumfriesshire she went to her uncle's residence .
in Northumberland, and there wrote to her chosen friend
near London in reference to her future prospects : —

" Dilston House, May 4. — Your account of the death-
bed experience of calls for praise to the Rock of

her Salvation, who made the dark place bright ; her
end was peace. Does not every thing confirm these
words, ' all things are yours? ' Even death, so dread-
ful to nature, can be met joyfully by the most timid ;
or, what is equally wonderful, by the most happy ; by
those whose earthly prospects might seem too peaceful
to be left without a struggle. Those words of hers,
1 it is the happiest day of my life/ have often dwelt
upon my mind. She was willing to bid adieu to time
and all its pursuits, and to go, in the strength of her
Saviour, to the unseen world. And thus it is that
Jesus shows himself to be ' all in all.' Oh ! why do
we ever seek delight from meaner sources ? There is
in Him a loveliness which forms the surest refuge of
the afflicted. It is more known as other joys are
withdrawn. So Cowper felt when he said,

' Earthly joys no more attracting,

Half the Christian's conflicts cease;
Earthly lights no more distracting",
Thou mayest trim thy lamp in peace.'

" Since receiving your most touching letter, I have

often asked myself, whether I should be quite willing ,

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 147

to die, should God recall my spirit soon ? Alas ! ray
dear friend, my heart is too much twined with earthly
things ; and I cannot feel that I wish to go, but rather
should like to live long here. Are you not sorry for
me ? I may be called at any hour, and yet I desire to
stay. I know that strength is sufficient for the day,
but I know also that my deceitful heart has laid up too
much treasure on earth — has suffered itself to be pos-
sessed of too many hopes of future days, and does not
gladly and often turn to heaven as the abode where it
longs to be ! Thus it is that temptations rise out of
our best blessings. I can only commend myself, feeble,
weak, and needy as I am, to Him who hath led me
hitherto, and I know that He will not cast me from Him.
But you do not know the difficulty I have in keeping
the things of time in due subjection. I spent a few
very pleasant weeks at Ruthwell, not idly. While
there, my friend received an appointment to a parish
twenty-five miles from his father. Some of his friends
had anticipated it, but I had been so fully persuaded
that he would be longer held in a state of probation, that I
had never expected such an issue to the matter, and the
surprise was great. The population of Urr is, I believe,
large, and the responsibilities connected with it are
great and solemn. There is only one source to which
to look for requisite grace and strength, and I desire
ever to wait upon the Lord, who daily loadeth me with
benefits. He is trying me with mercies now. Ah !
loho can tell hoic soon He may see it needful to change his
dealings! There is no situation more calculated to
make its occupant look constantly to Jesus, than that
of a clergyman. It is his own work, and utterly un-
availing without his blessing.

" 1 am now visiting my kind uncle and aunt near

148 MEMOIR OF

Hexham, and many are my lonely musings here. The
woods are extensive and wild ; and as I tread the steep
and winding paths alone, my thoughts often take a sad
and sober turn. I think, for all that passes around
teaches me, how vain it is to fix the heart on any
earthly object, which may be taken away in a moment.
I try to draw near to God in prayer, and find it sweet to
commit all that is dear to me into his hands, and to be
sure that it is safe and blessed in his keeping. The past,
with all its forgetfulness of Him, returns, and makes
me sorrowful ; but this quiet time may, by his blessing,
be of great use in making me love Him more. I have
written, my dearest friend, a most selfish letter, and can
only plead in excuse your gentle reproach for saying
so little of what relates to me. You now see a good
deal of my foolish and weak heart, but I hope it will
make you pray that I may constantly be taught of God.

Are you well now, dear F ? I wish I could tell

you how often I think of you, and what a delight it
would be if I could in the least contribute to your
amusement, or help you to draw sweetness out of the
portion of bitter which God has mingled in your cup.
But I can pray for you. This is a privilege which the
little flock alone enjoy, and nothing deserves the name
of friendship that is not thus cemented. Let us often
bear each other's names to the holy place, and then,
oh, how shall we rejoice to meet in heaven ! I should
be very much pleased if you could join a little society
of Christians, many of whom live distant from each
other, who meet in spirit on the evenings of every
Friday, to pray for personal increase of grace, and for
the outpouring of the Spirit over the world. An hour
cannot be fixed because of the various circumstances
of the parties, but it is very pleasant and salutary. We ,

MART LUNDIE DUNCAN. 141)

should use every means to arouse our souls to prayer.

Write very soon, my dear F , and do not spare me.

Tell me all you think of my state of mind. Yet how
should you, for I cannot represent it to you as it is f
Ah, how gently I deal with my own sins ! I desire to
feel them more, that the blood of Jesus may be increas-
ingly precious."

A soul, so timorous lest prosperity should deaden its
exercises, and accepting a promised blessing with so
solemn a consciousness of unworthiness, was not ill pre-
pared for a reverse ; solicitude about securing her
ultimate hope being ever the paramount sentiment,
prosperous and adverse circumstances in the present
time, were both modified in their power over her.
There is something so graceful and single-hearted in
her manner of mingling her enjoyment of natui'e with
the sentiment which, at that period, was most potent in
her heart, that we are tempted to extract one or two
passages from letters to her future husband, written on
the banks of the Tyne, where her soul flowed peace-
fully in the exercise of the most confiding affection.

" Dllston House, May 5. — When I look at the bright
sunshine which, at this moment, gilds the winding glen
that stretches itself beneath the windows, I am reminded
of the description of the path of the just, which is as a
shining light, and the peace of those who ever have
4 Heaven's sunshine on their joyful way ;' and a sweet
hope springs up, that whatever we have yet to learn,
will graciously be taught us, and that the sins which
cloud our skies and dim our prospects may be subdued,
and that, growing in holiness, we may be of those who
heed no more the deluding lights of earth, because of
the Sun of Righteousness, which, beaming over our
horizon, attracts continually our admiring eyes. The

150 MEMOIR OF

landscape before me is beautiful, but far more so is the
state of the spirit where the Lord has fixed his habitation,
and if it be so with us, how blessed shall be our lot I"
a May 15. — A lady showed me her very complete
Hortus Siccus, which it has been the labour and amuse-
ment of years to collect and arrange. This country
affords every facility for the pursuit of botany. There
are wood flowers, water plants, and rock vegetation in
endless variety ; and now the purple gems of the orchis
are rising with the curious arum. The old lady went
over her dried flowers, the pride of bygone springs,
with an artist's enthusiasm, and dwelt on long walks,
which had been made short and pleasant by the dis-
covery of the object of her search, some little weed per-
haps witli no great beauty to recommend it. But she
was in pursuit of it, and could not have been more
pleased to find a treasure. So it is ever. Some gather
flowers, others dig in the mine of science ; what we
have set our hearts on we rejoice to find. I hope that,
whatever cheerful and instructive objects may attract
us, we may through life have the service of our God to
urge on our steps, and his image in our hearts, and his
image in his works and word as the cynosure of our
gaze. Yesterday, I rode with my dear uncle to a
Roman camp on the military road, and to Ay don Castle,
a fine old border fort, now a picturesque ruin. It
stands on the verge of a deep woody precipice, of dizzy
height, and beneath flows the little Cor. A fine view
of Hexham and the vale of Tyne extends on one side,
and some flowers are cherished by a careful hand on
the top of the castle rock. It seems tame and tautologi-
cal to repeat on paper the praises of the floral train,
and to say again that each one reminds me sweetly
though sadly of a distant friend. Yet the feeling flags

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 151

not. The blue hyacinth that rises among the grass, the
violet and geranium that blow in the wilds, renew it,
and transport me to days I love to think of, and to a
kindling smile, of which I shall weary — never ! These
fair children of nature ; these woods with their bud-
ding hawthorn and venerable ivy — I am about to bid
them adieu. I love to commune silently among such
objects, with nature, and with her Author, and shall
leave them with regret ; but with a very different senti-
ment from that which oppressed me in leaving the last
place of my sojourn."

A poem, dated Dilston, May 5th, is doubtless ad-
dressed to flowers presented by that beloved friend on
her leaving Ruthwell : —

" TO SOME FADING FLOWERS.

Fair blossoms born in April's light,

Ye once were fresh when day arose ;
Ah ! wherefore fading in my sight,

Do your shrunk petals close ?
Your brethren on the parent stem

Still on the breeze their fragrance pour;
Why withering thus, unlike to them,
Is your existence o'er ?

In those pale looks of swift decay,

I read, my flowers, your sad reply,
'Twas I who bore you far away,
In foreign air, to die !

Reproach me not ; your native shades
Were dear to me as evening's star ;
Their mossy turf, their sylvan glades,
The silent hills afar !

And lingering, as I said farewell,

A gentle hand despoiled your bowers,
That ye to memory might tell

Of many happy hours !

For those loved scenes, for those past days,

I deem your drooping buds more fair
Than when ye glowed in noontide rays,
Or scented eveuing air.

152 MEMOIR OF

And if again, in other years,

I tread the spot that nursed your bloom,
And see new flowers in dewy tears,

That flourish in your room ;

The brightest of the vernal train

Shall call your faded forms to mind ;
Sweet relics of your beauteous plain, —

Of all I loved and left behind."

During her tranquil musings in the woods at Dilston,
she possessed an overflow of spiritual joy, which is dis-
covered in her diary, thus : — " I feel calm and happy,
and at times my heart so overflows with wonder and
joy at the thought of what has been, and what may be
given me by my Lord, that I feel humbled that it is to
poor rebellious me that He has extended such mercies.
Oh that I could praise Him always ! and yet when
temptation to forget Him comes, I am almost sure to
do it, nay, to wound my conscience by what is sinful.
Was there ever one called by the christian "name so
slow to learn, so ready to forget ? No earthly friend,
I do believe, would have a spark of love for me left, if
I offended and grieved them for one year as I have
done the Lord all my life, and yet to which of them do
I owe a tittle of the obedience that I owe to Him ?
Lord, melt my hard heart. Sunday was my 21st birth-
day. Oh, how little of the past year has been spent to
God ! I feel a danger of going lightly into my sins.
I want to probe them well, and not to fear to look at
what I truly am. How can they be cleansed unless
they be spread out to the purifying blood of Jesus?"

Diary. — " I was escorted from Dilston to Newcastle
by my uncle, and passed ten days instead of two with
mamma's friend. She has much peace in communion
with God, and, though weak in frame and grieved in
spirit, holds fast by the treasure that makes her inde-

MART LUNDIE DUNCAN. 153

pendent of earth's possessions or the smiles of the worldly
for happiness. There is in this lady a renunciation of
earth, and a settled frame of spirituality that few attain ;
and she holds it by frequent prayer, and by constant
waiting upon God. Friends, who come, often join in
prayer : their intercourse is what that of Zion's children
should be."

Of the venerable mother of this estimable friend, she
draws a portrait correct in its lineaments, and lovely for
its repose and moral truth, in a letter to Mr Duncan : —

" Newcastle, May 22. — I wish you could see her.
She is a handsome and venerable old lady, with snow-
white hair, and the sweetest expression of peace and
affection on her countenance ; and there is good reason
for it, as now, at the age of seventy-nine, she has found
what in earlier years she was a stranger to. Four years
ago, during a severe illness, and after much mental
conflict, she was brought to the feet of the Saviour,
whom she had, during a long life, rejected. The words
of our Lord to Paul, ' Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou
me?' were put into her mouth, and she wept for joy
and contrition of heart. Since that time, she has gone
on her tranquil way in much converse with her God ;
and when we enter her sitting-room, we find her in her
great chair, with a large Bible before her, marking the
words that suit her best. It is a solemn thing to be
near an aged pilgrim hastening, willingly, to the Jordan,
and having little to do with time. . . . We have
had many sweet seasons of prayer, and this room has a
hallowed air to me — it is a Bethel. I think I have
learned more of the use of prayer as a guide, and as a
means of quieting the soul when anything has disturbed
it. It is the constant resource of my kind friend, and
the bond by which her union with those she loves is

1 54 MEMOIR OF

cemented." After alluding to some anticipated trials,
she adds in the same letter : — " In God we shall do
valiantly. Prayer is the shield which must blunt the
many darts, and make them slide off our armour harm-
less. Therefore, let us pray without ceasing. In these
latter days, when men are heady and high-minded, let
us keep our lamps burning with zeal, and be wise as
serpents, and harmless as doves. . . . This is the
preparation day, for Sabbath is at hand. Oh, let us
both use such days henceforth more to God's glory than
before ! Let us give our entire selves to Him ! Why in
action halt between two opinions ? I have been most
happy this week in seeking Him continually. I have
felt that I have been far (O, how far !) too lax, and
that one day in his courts is better than a thousand.
May the mantle of saints departed descend on us ! May
the robe of Jesus' holiness be around us ! May heaven
be before our eyes, and earth beneath our feet ! May
love be in our hearts, and praise on our tongues ! This
I solemnly pray, and then what evil can life, or death, or
sorrow do to us ? Our record is not within their reach."
Remarking the conduct of a friend who deemed it
duty to withdraw entirely from a newly-formed family
connection, because she disapproved the religious sen-
timents of the parties, Mary thus mildly investigates,
and draws lessons of instruction for herself. Diary. —
" I am not sure if these views should keep us from trying
to do good to such as may be pointed out to us by Pro-
vidence, in meek christian charity and consistency, that
they may be won from their errors. But the party
alluded to calls this spurious charity. One would not
recommend intercourse that could only be productive
of unpleasant feelings on all sides; but the question now
afloat with me is, whether it be the right thing to be in

MARY LUNDIE DL^CAN. 155

the state which would make intercourse so painful ; or
whether it be the right thing to tell one's sentiments
mildly, and with much allowance for early training and
habits of thought. I may, however that be settled, gain
from these things a new view of the Christian's high
duty, to maintain his Saviour's cause, and be always on
the watch-tower. I have at times lost my own spirit-
uality, and done no good to others, by letting myself be
led into their trains of thought, instead of seeking to lead
them to better things. I have even smiled acquiescence,
or passed in silence, sentiments I disapproved ; but then
my enemy was love of self, so easily does charity degene-
rate, and become a cloak for evil ! — Against this, I have,
by what I have here seen, been put on my guard."

A few days after, when she had, on her homeward
way, reached the habitation of another dear friend, she
still dwells in her diary on the character of the aged
and waiting servant, whom she had admired and loved
to contemplate. Diary. — " I came here on May 23d,
and the kind welcome, the fiowery garden, the rose of
Sharon and lily of the valley, have greatly cheered me.
I want to see the love of God in every thing. When I
think of that aged lady, so kind, so peaceful, so meek in
waiting for her departure, I feel it a privilege to have
been called early to that service, whose perfect freedom
she did not know till seventy-five years had passed in
the bondage of sin ! The grace of God is wonderful
to her in unloosing all the bonds of habit, in softening
the hard heart, in opening the eyes that had remained
blind when light was around them ; to me in having led
and taught me from infancy, ungrateful backslider as I
am ; in having daily patience with me, and teaching
me more and more of his love : would that my whole
being were devoted to Him !"

156 MEMOIR OF

Shortly after this date, she reached the home to which
she had often turned during the enjoyments of her ab-
sence. She remarked, on being asked why she was so
desirous to return, " I have too much ' inhabitiveness,'
to like to be very long away from you all ; one never
gets so well established at improving employments as at
home, and the mind wearies when it has either nothing
to employ it, or is forced by change of place to fly from
one thing to another."

The first five stanzas of the poem which follows were
written about this date ; the concluding four in Novem-
ber 1839.

" ON SEEING A PRISM SnOWrN IN AN INFANT SCHOOL.1

The morning is over, the lessons are done,
And bright on the group shine the beams of the sun ;
1 Now show us the rainbow,' each little voice cries,
And turned to the lattice are many glad eyes.

The prism is displayed in their wondering sight ;
Out spring, as by magic, the colours of light,
And over the throng the fair vision is cast,
Like the bow in the cloud when the tempest is past.

And now on the ceiling, and now on the walls,
Fast flitting, and flying, the brilliancy falls ;
And now for a moment the lustre is shed,
Like a circlet of glory, on one little head.

With eagerness flocking to catch at the prize,
The children esteem it their own — but it flies ;
High and low, as it skims, they at vacancy clasp,
While, in courting pursuit, 'tis eluding their grasp.

The remembrance of this may a lesson impart,
When manhood has ripened each buoyant young heart ;
When flying in chase of some vision of bliss,
They grasp it, and find it illusive as this.

For hope, like the rainbow, adorns the sweet scene,
When dewdrops are gleaming, and nature is green
And we think, could we reach the fair hills of its rest,
And gain what we wish, we should surely be blest.

' Frobably at Newcastle.

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 157

We pant in pursuit of the vanishing prise,

We deem it our own — as we near it, it fliefl !
It loses Its brightness, it fades from our sight,
And the eye that admired is left weeping1 in night.

Ah ! Miss is not here, it is born in the skies,
Though hope, the sweet dreamer, its absenee denies ;
And ne'er to mankind shall its fulness be given,
Or earth be made bright by this native of heaven.

Look upward from time, and its dreams of delight,
Pass on to the land of possession and sight ;
Seek this, and this only, and all shall be peace,
When hope and the rainbow together shall cease.'

A letter of grateful acknowledgments of the kind
hospitalities of her uncle and aunt, dated July, contains
a remark on the position and character of Sir George
Grey, which is interesting now, when that gentleman
holds an office in the government of 1847, such as was
anticipated for him by the young writer.

" We feel interested in Sir George Grey's doings,
from his dutiful and exemplary love for his mother,
whom we knew a little during the winter she resided
here. I trust Canada may be a gainer by his judicious
measures in reference to it. A few years may give him
a more prominent position among his countrymen than
he now occupies. "

Immediately on her return home, the entry in her
diary mentions her attending the celebration of the
Lord's Supper at Lady Glenorchy's Church, which, she
says, she enjoyed, "calling sin to remembrance, and
praying that all might be blotted out, and she be enabled
to fix a steady eye on Jesus;" — and then follows another
entry which refers to a public execution, and exhibits
the power of divine love in strengthening the character,
and expanding the charities. That a criminal should be
condemned to suffer death on the scaffold is, and indeed
is designed to be, shocking to the tender mind ; and the

158 MEMOIR OF

natural impulse of refinement is to dismiss so horrible
a thought. But grace judges differently. To attract
the attention of a Christian to a soul in peril, is to engage
that Christian's prayers. And so it was with Mary.
The diary reveals the secret exercises of her closet,
which were open before to the Searcher of hearts alone.

"July 14. — Yesterday poor J. Bell was hanged in
the High Street for killing his sergeant. Mr Hunter
had good hope of him. He was penitent ; and his heart
'so filled with the judgment-seat, he did not think of
the scaffold.' I trust a God of mercy has redeemed him,
poor desolate creature. He had no other refuge. No
one has — but his was a situation to make him pecu-
liarly feel it. I hope Jesus received him like the thief
on the cross ! I never remember to have prayed so
much for any one I never saw, as for him. I longed for
his salvation. May the many prayers offered for him in
Edinburgh be remembered by a faithful Lord, and may
we be taught to be earnest in supplication for our own
poor souls ! "

To Mr Duncan.

" Edinburgh, June 8. — I have, like you, been writing
under the pealing of a loud thunder-storm, grand and
awful. It brings home the question, ' Am I ready to
die ? ' Would that we were sure, for the hour each
day draws nearer. I think I am sure that if I died I
should go to heaven, through my most blessed Saviour;
but O the coldness of heart ! How true to earthly love ;
how forgetful of that which lasts through eternity and
began before our being ! "

When she heard the solemn and earnest pleading of
Dr Duff on behalf of the millions who people the idol-
blighted plains of India, she wrote to the same friend.

"Edinburgh, June 17. — The world is dark and

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 159

wretched when we look at such melancholy facts, and
think over what an extent the same evils, the same
destitution of spiritual guides, and of the means of
pleasing the Lamb, are diffused. When shall the day
dawn, and the day-star arise ? When shall the multi-
tude of the Isles, and the fulness of the Gentile nations,
become the ransomed saints of the God of Glory ? The
poor heathen ! He pities them, and shall not we, his
saved ones, pity too ? Oh ! let us pray for them more
earnestly than we have hitherto done, that souls, ever-
lasting souls, may be given to our petitions. The
millennarians, whose creed I do not much understand,
seem to believe, that, when the last vial is poured out,
the wrath of God will come upon those nations which
know Him not. There will be plagues and great de-
structions, and only a remnant shall be left. Now, I
have been accustomed to hope, and with delightful ex-
pectation, that those forsaken nations shall be taught of
God, and have at least, as we have, a free offer of the
great salvation ; and many, who sin through ignorance,
shall be offered that which they will, with meltings of
heart, accept ; and so, in the rescue, and not in the
destruction, of his scattered flock, Jesus will be glorified.
I speak only my own thoughts ; tell me yours. Should
it not, be so ! — He is just, He is good, and it is right.
But, O ! how the consideration of their sad case should
stimulate us to prayer for them, and to exertion too."

Diary, — " Last Sunday, came home with me

between sermons, and we had some profitable conver-
sation ; in the course of which, we resolved to guard,
for one week, against saying a single word against any
living creature. I much wish to have that deep sense
of my own unworthiness, which will make me charitable
to all. Not that I would lose the power of discriminate

160 MEMOIR OF

ing ; but it is well to seal the lips in some conversations,
lest we be tempted to speak in this unadvised way. I
love the character of a peace-maker, and should like to
be one. There are times when it is well to point out
to a friend the faults of another ; but, on examining, we
fmd these to be very few. The effect is to prejudice
the friend to whom we speak, against some individual,
and thus chase from his bosom some of that balmy dew
of universal love, which forms part of the felicity of
angels in heaven ; and who can say where such a
course might end — in lessening usefulness, in impair-
ing happiness, in sowing dissensions? "

On the death of the Rev. John Brown Patterson, be-
tween which and her own, as well as between the ex-
panded benevolence and devotedness, not to name the
poetry of their characters, there has appeared an affect-
ing analogy to some who knew them well, she wrote
and felt much : and, though never privileged to mingle
prayers or tears with the mourners, hers were offered
before Him, who binds up the broken-hearted, and
helps the widow.

To Mr Duncan.
" July 7. — We all feel deeply for the family of Mr
Patterson, who are plunged into the deepest distress
by their heavy bereavement. He was, I believe, the
victim of conscientiousness ; for Falkirk is a large and
most discouraging parish. He was dissatisfied with
the measure of good he was enabled to do, and, during
his short convalescence, his spirits were in a state of
painful depression, and he said, ' O, I cannot return to
Falkirk ! ' He preached eighteen times in the last fort-
night of his health, and the last time was so exhausted,
that he rested on the sofa, in clothes drencned by a

MARY LUNDIK DUXCAX. 1G1

heavy rain during liis walk home. Thus were the seeds
of disease sown. At last, typhus turned to brain fever,
and he was in wild delirium for the last few days. Dur-
ing that time he was now praying, now preaching. At
times, the beauty of his thoughts was quite beyond him-
self. That glowing spirit is gone. That voice, so
zealous in the good cause, is hushed. That mind,
mingling religion and literature so invitingly for the
young and studious, shall weave its splendid imagery
no more ; but all — all those powers shall be perfected
in the land of his joyful habitation ; and all shall be
swallowed up in the near and rapturous view of the
Lamb, whom he shall follow whithersoever He goeth.
I never remember to have prayed for any one in sick-
ness, not in the immediate circle of my friends, so
earnestly as I did for him, and his mourning relations;
and it enlarges and softens the heart to weep for those
who weep, and commit their cause to God. May you
and I know much of the blessedness of thus sympa-
thizing with the sorrowful, in a world where sorrows
abound, and may we be the instruments of binding up
many worn and sad spirits ! I would also desire, that,
if it be the will of God, we may not be subject to such
trials as were his lot, in his bright but troubled course,
and spared such anguish as now rends the heart of his
bereft ones. My uncle made some just and beautiful
references to Mr Patterson in his sermon, " To another
friend she wrote : — " ' We thought him fit to live,' said
my uncle, ' but God saw that he was fit to die.' And let

us be willing, my dear F , that our lights should be

removed to the land of glory. We shall not be dark
and dim, when they are gone, if, by their loss, our eyes
are more stedfastly fixed on our Heavenly King, the
source of all the brightness that attracts our love."

L

162 memoir or

CHAPTER VIII.

DISAPPOINTMENT, AND THE MANNER IN WHICH IT

WAS BORNE.

Blooming and lovely herself, attractive by her chas-
tened cheerfulness, and shedding love and peace around
her, yet in the sober and subdued light which we have
seen her correspondence and her diary unfold, was the
passing scene clad to Mary's view. It was the hope
beyond, the glories of the world where sin is not,
which fixed her eager gaze ; and thus one might ex-
pect she was prepared for the stroke which was even
now about to fall ; and so, indeed, she was.

To her confidential friend, near London, she wrote
in this strain : — " The 23d of this month (July) is the
day appointed by the General Assembly as a general
fast throughout the church. I trust it may be a day
of blessing in our land, and that we may be aroused to
covet earnestly the best gifts, for if we ask we shall re-
ceive. If we really believe that our Lord will do for
us what we ask, we shall not be sent away empty.
Not one word of heartfelt prayer is forgotten by Him,
though it is not always answered in the way we wish.
The 23d will be a day of double interest to me, because
it is the first of three days appointed for my friend to"
preach before the people of Urr, in order to their sus-
taining or rejecting the royal presentation. Should he
not be received, I believe that faith and submission will
be increased, and hope will not die. Should it be

MAIiY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 1 G3

otherwise, I trust lie may prove a faithful and un
wearied labourer in the vineyard of our merciful Lord.
Oli ! my beloved friend, will you pray that it may be
so ? I scarcely dare to pray that it may be as we
desire, for I have learned, by constant experience, that
the tilings we set our hearts upon would be injurious.
Then, be our prayer for those things which God sees
best, and which will most effectually help us to be pure
and without offence in the path of Jesus."

The hopes excited by the presentation of Mr Duncan
to Urr, were not destined to be realized. Those good
men, who were deeply sensible of the evils of unre-
strained patronage, as established by the iniquitous act
of Bolingbroke, in the reign of Queen Anne, had re-
cently exerted their influence to enact the Veto Law,
as it has been called. They honestly believed that the
Ecclesiastical Courts possessed an inherent right, law-
fully, to enforce a mitigation of the evil ; and they were
willing to reconcile themselves to a mitigation, rather
than seek a complete remedy, which could only be ob-
tained by an application to parliament, where secular
and party views seem to overbear the temper and
motives which ought to be engaged in ordering the
affairs of the Church of Christ. This is not the place
to discuss those weighty questions, which have since
that period agitated, and do still continue to agitate,
the Church of Scotland. It is enough to say, that one
of the first operations of the new law was the rejection
of Mr Duncan by the apparent majority of five. The
patronage of Urr is held by the Crown, and the parish
being divided between two candidates, Mr Duncan, a
third, was presented with a view of procuring the union
of both parties on his behalf; thus wisely " following
after things that make for peace." The people, however,

164 MEMOIR OF

inexperienced in the recent law, flattered themselves
that it might be so worked as to place the unrestrained
power of electing their pastor in their own hands. It
was no stain on the character of the presentee to be re-
jected in these circumstances, as some of those who
exercised the veto against him declared openly, that
they would reject the Apostle Paul himself, if presented
by a patron.

But this attempt, if successful, threatened to coun-
teract the object of the Veto Law altogether, and to
convert a salutary arrangement into a source of hostility
between patron and people. Stimulated by this fear of
the perversion of the law, some of the very individuals
who aided in framing it, counselled Mr Duncan to per-
severe, not for the purpose of opposing the legitimate
operation of the newly acquired right, but of seeking to
restrain it within due bounds. He, therefore, zealously
supported by the well-educated and well-informed of
the parish, appealed from the decision of the Presbytery
which rejected him, to the higher Church Court, with a
view to prove a combination of the people, for the pur-
pose of defeating the presentation, irrespective of his
merits, and also to investigate the validity of a few of
the votes.

From these sketchy remarks, we must return to the
individual whose conduct under the rod was to be a
test of the reality of her former experience.

The sunny 7th of August is still bright in memory,
when she took her way to the Hall of the High School,
to witness that august moral spectacle, where the civic
authorities come forth as the patrons of education, and
distributors of honours acquired by the industry and
talent of their juvenile townsmen — her eye beaming
with joy at the expectation of seeing her little brother

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 165

bow his flaxen locks before the Lord Provost, on the
reception of his first prize — her heart bounding with
the expectation that an hour would bring her betrothed
with the glad news that all was passed in harmony and
love on the previous day, and that they might prepare
together to enter on the work they loved best, at Urr.

The coach arrived, and with it the honoured father,
not the son ; and on the street were Mary's steps turned
homeward by the disclosure of the event. It is not,
perhaps, well for one who partook deeply of that time
of trial to enter too minutely into the scene, or to de-
scribe the subdued emotion, the christian and almost
dignified calmness of the hour. She passed some time
in her closet, and obeyed the summons of the dinner-
bell, expecting she had self-command enough to acquit
herself as became one who believes that the Lord doeth
all things well. But she had taxed her strength too
heavily. She smiled, and conversed a little at first, but
the expression of love and sympathy in the surrounding
countenances was too much — the willing spirit suc-
cumbed to the weakness of nature, and she was obliged
to glide away. After allowing a time free from intrusion,
she was followed, and, with dismay, found extended on
the floor ; her over-exerted powers having for a time
retreated, from that severe strain, by a fit of fainting
sickness. Her disorder hung about her for some days ;
but no word of complaint, fretfulness, or impatience was
heard from her, and the peace which the world cannot
take away, soon acquired a renewed and stronger in-
fluence in her heart than before she was afflicted. But
she will speak best for herself.

In the diary, the entry is brief. After stating the
fact, and that she had been writing to cheer Mr Duncan,
when she sunk exhausted, she adds : —

166 MEMOIR OF

" W.'s hopes ! where are they ? The sanguine pre-
dictions of many friends ! what has become of them ?
Man lays wise plans, but it is with God to bless or bring
them to nought. I want truly to say, 'Thy will be
done ;' but dread a spirit of settled sullenness or discon-
tent. My hopes were so precious ! Yet the child of
God can never be in despair. I — we — need chastening,
and it has been sent in love and mercy. We may yet
be happy ; at least resigned we must, and, by God's
help, will be."

To Mr Duncan.
" August 7. — I would write comfort to you, though
my aching eyeballs, and pained head, tell that I have
need of it too. Comfort, and sources of new hope, are
what we may be likely to turn to, though at present I
feel no temptation of that kind ; but do you not think
that we should rather search our hearts diligently, to
see wherefore our God contends with us? "We have
sinned in many ways. If we have not cast out those
sins before, let us do so now ! This is a voice that makes
itself heard. Let us strive for holiness of heart and life,
and then our God may give us so much heavenly peace,
that we shall be happier far than if all our wishes had
been fulfilled. He can do this ; in so far as it regards
man. I know you will not give place to any angry
feelings, but only pray for your enemies, and look on
all as coming direct from the hand of God. I feel that
He must have something to teach you ; and from this
very thing, while I weep, I derive encouragement ; for
many a careless shepherd is plunged at once into the
work of the ministry, while those, who are to be true
vessels of honour, are tried as the silver is tried ; but
our merciful Saviour watches the furnace, and does not

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 167

let it burn too fiercely. It may be, my dear W., that
we shall, at some time, look back on this cloudy and
dark day as one of the happiest of our lives, if it is the
beginning of better things to our souls. I had been
indulging in the delightful hope that your character
and graces would be best improved by the exercise of
preaching and the care of souls. But a wise God sees
that more of those disguised blessings, which come in
the form of trials, are needful for yon, and for me. Oh
I hope it is not through my sins, and my negligence,
that this has befallen you ! There is reason to think
He designs us both to glorify his name and to win souls,
or He would not take so much pains with us, and send
us back so often to examine the foundation. And shall
we turn away as if we were injured, repining and re-
belling against the will of God ? No ! let us rather kiss
. the rod that smites us, and exercise truer love than ever
to our King. We are short-sighted creatures, but our
precious faith teaches that all is well. . . . Pray
that the people and their pastor, whosoever he shall be,
may be blessed ; and we, too, doubt it not, shall not be
forgotten of God. He has blessings in store for us, more
precious than earth can offer. I grieve for you among
comparative strangers, to none of whom you can fully
open your own heart, oppressed as it must be. But the
throne is your sure refuge ; there you will find relief.
Never, when things seemed to smile, did my heart cleave
to you more than now. You have one earthly friend who
will never have divided hopes or interests from yours.
11 Farewell, dear W., and may God ever bless you
and keep you, prays your attached and sympathizing

Mary Lundie."

One cannot fail to observe the simplicity with which

168 MEMOIR OF

she unites herself in the trial and in its causes, and also
with which she anticipates her position as the wife of a
clergyman, as being in a peculiar manner that of a
servant of the Church. Pier plan was not to be a help-
meet for her husband alone, but to be a succourer of
many, who would depend on his ministrations for
spiritual food. It is the happiest of all unions where
the wife has sufficient experience and love to be inclined
to follow up her husband's work among the females of
the flock, and to guide the lambs to the Good Shepherd.
These views of her office rendered the disappointment
in some degree of a character similar to that of the
young preacher ; and made the trial of a more searching
kind to her own heart.

The following letter was written with the same desire
to console and to derive improvement from the dispen-
sation : —

To Mr Duncan.
" Edinburgh, August 17. . . . You can, in active
employ, in reference to the aspect of things, and in
talking of them with friends, throw off some of those
feelings which, if all confined, might become too burden-
some ; all I can do is to keep still, and muse and pray,
and this I truly do ; and when thought would becom
rebellious, or earthly hope too vivid, prayer checks their
flow, and rekindles that trust in the love of God, and
that sense of the importance of that one thing — prepa-
ration for the unseen world — to which all the discipline
we undergo is subservient. What is it to the candidates
for a life of perfect bliss and endless duration, whether
their few years on earth are spent in preparing for it,
by delightful and easy lessons, or whether their upward
way is hedged round with thorns, and strewed with

MART LUNDIE DUNCAN, 169

those rough stones — privation and sorrow. We know
that ' the more we mourn and suffer here, the sweeter
rest will be.1 Jesus trod the way of privation before
us — privation ! oh how far beyond what we can, in
dreariest moments, picture ! And, triumphantly as He
passed through it, He left a parting promise that all his
children should follow in his steps, and be supported
by his hand. Let us not, then, refuse, if called upon, to
partake those sufferings. His grace is sufficient for us,
and the fire may frighten, but cannot consume. These
thoughts are ennobling — they nerve us to bear what
might, without them, make us sink ; and faith is kindled,
and roused to lively exercise, by those very things which
our spiritual foes would fain employ to slay it. Should
evil be said of you falsely, should your hopes be frus-
trated with aggravations devised by malice, there is but
the more hope, as it seems to me, that you are to be a
polished and sharpened arrow in the quiver of the Lord.
AVe must try to praise, however it turns, and so will
God be glorified in us. Ah ! I would that you might
be polished by actual service, instead of long delay.
Well, our God is wise ; just is He, and hates every sin ;
but still He loves his people, and I trust all He does
will be in mercy, not in anger. Be prepared, then, dear
W., for whatever comes. Seek submission in constant
prayer— as you pursue your solitary path, or mingle
in the eager converse of friends, still be your spirit in
one place — with God. Seek to find Him, as Hall of
Leicester beautifully expresses it, ' the home of the
soul.' Rest firmly, confidingly in Him, and you possess
a support that the war of elements can never drive from
you. Examine well, lest even in your submission, there
be concealed a hope that this very state of mind will
lead Him to make a smooth way for you at Urr yet

170 MEMOIR OF

I know it is not inconsistent with his dealings from the
beginning of time, that this may be. But we ?nust not
serve Him for his gifts ; and are always safer when we
can offer ourselves a living sacrifice, without reference
to what may here befall us. Search well, and seek to
give up every earthly thought, and merge your wishes
in a zeal for the promotion of his glory. I do not
advise you, because I think myself entitled, or you in
need of my counsel. No ; each day teaches me that I
am but dust and ashes ; and I believe that you are
taught by that most wise and Holy Spirit, whose
counsels are sufficient to lead you, without stumbling,
to the land of peace. Yet we should ' exhort one
another daily ;' and one, who has so often prayed for
you, may be excused for saying a few words from a
fulness of heart, beyond what she has often expressed.
. . . Yesterday, Mr Clark, of Inverness, preached
at St Mary's — a solemn sermon, on the witness of the
Spirit. He clearly set forth the peace of the heart that,
being undivided and sincere in its desire to serve God,
and resign all for Him, has this precious testimony.
Oh ! for such a state as would let it be ever here, even
in my soul, and would drive away all lingering endur-
ance of sin, and fit me for pure regions, sensibly feeling
that each day brought me nearer to them ! Let us
mutually pray that each person in the Holy Trinity
may work in us, that we may be complete, wanting
nothing, through the rich grace of God. . . . To-
day, Mr A. Murray has come to visit u& (a youth whom
you may have seen at Kelso) on his way to London,
whence he will shortly embark for the Samoan Islands.
It once seemed as if he would never have got forward,
but a way was opened for his education under Dr Pye
Smith ; his feeble health is much improved, and he is

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 171

on the eve of commencing his labours in the work lie
loves. I feel disposed rather to take encouragement
from the goodness of God to one for whom He has
provided education and friends, and cleared for Plim
so wide a sphere of usefulness. His time for you, too,
will come, and now He is but fitting you for it : so,
surely, all is best."

The final confirmation of the Urr veto, and the appeal
to the Synod, being at last communicated to her, she
wrote : —

" August 28. — Your sad letter came in due time ;
and now, what can we say, but ' the will of the Lord
be done?' I feel no disposition to think of men, good
or bad, who have been the instruments of this trial.
The Lord's hand is here, and to it let us look. Let me
entreat you to take away your mind from the outward
circumstances, and let the majesty of God, his holiness,
his right to do what He will with us, be much on your
mind. We are, I trust, of those whom He wills to
sanctify wholly to Himself; and shall we refuse to taste
the requisite chastisement ? Let us try to say, as a good
man did to Mr Venn, 'I love the rod ; how gentle are
the strokes I receive — how severe those I deserve ! '
There is one danger I feel, perhaps you do also, and
which must be guarded against — that of praying less,
and sinking into a listless state, and indulging in a half
acknowledged feeling that our prayers have been dis-
regarded. But, no ; every prayer is heard, though in
wisdom our earnest request has been withheld. But
this let us learn — to let the glory of God have a larger
share in our prayers, and our own selfishness less.
Had this been, from the first, the mainspring of our
petitions, we must have felt clearly that they have been
granted ; for this is in strict accordance with the will

172 MEMOIR OF

of God. But make a covenant with me, my dear friend,
that you will pray as often, and as earnestly, by the help
of God, for spiritual blessings, as we have for some time
done for temporal ones, and this sad check may be very
useful to us. Oh ! it would have been happy, as far as
we can see — I scarcely dare now let myself think how
happy ; but we know who rules : and, even humanly
speaking, we are both young yet, and Providence may
see it best to sharpen us better for the work, before He
puts it into our hands ; so let us use the time in com-
muning with Him, and studying his word,"

To Mr Duncan.

"Sept. 19. — We shall have no cause to repent our
trials, for our foundation standeth sure, and our record
is with a compassionate Saviour. We know we have
much to learn — we know, too, that He is now teaching
us ; and shall we repine because we are in the school
of Christ, among all those who can ever hope to have
part in the first resurrection ? Our Master will not give
us one stripe too much, and, even in the midst, He smiles
on us, and addresses us in accents of surpassing love as
his ransomed ones, his beloved children. Glorious is
the dispensation under which we are placed ! It is no
new remark, that those whose labour He designs to
bless, are prepared for it by initiatory trials."

An entry in the diary, next day, shows her in her
closet, following up the desire to realize the benefits
which she expects from affliction.

Diary. — "Sept. 20. — After reading what Venn says
of the Holy Spirit, I have been entreating his influences
for W. and myself. I would seek to realize, in this
period of solitude, the time when I shall be no more one
of a kind family on earth, but shall stand before the

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 173

throne, and, in tlie midst of myriads, feel myself alone
with God. I want more of his daily presence and
blessing, and I want to be strong in Him, that I may
not sink under, but obediently submit to, wThatever He
designs for me. All must come from above, for I can
do nothing but sin."

To her correspondent near London, she wrote, not
till a month had elapsed, on this subject : —

"Edinburgh, Sept. 26. — While the Head of the Church
has been training many souls, by suffering, for glory,
it has been his good pleasure not to leave me wholly
untried. Would that I could dismiss every feeling but
gratitude for it ! You heard of Urr, and you may
imagine how affecting your expressions in reference to
it were, and your hope that its shepherd might receive
grace to lead his flock, etc., when I tell you, that ere
they met my eyes, our hope with regard to that was
over. . . . You know how trying it must be, to
one full of energy, and desirous to devote it all to the
work of the ministry, to be stopped at the very door of
the temple, and told to go again, and stand yet another
hour, in the prime of the day, in the market-place !
Your words went straight to my heart, ' Shall we teach
our Teacher how to instruct us ? ' Let us wait in faith ;
and, being kept in the hollow of the Father's hand, can
trial be an evil ? Blessed are they who do not see how
such a trial is to terminate, and yet have believed that
all is well. The links of the chain, that we cannot see,
are in the hands of unerring wisdom ; and it is sweet
just to let them remain there willingly, and to consent
that more should be hidden, if He wills it. I have been
ten days quite alone, a new thing for me, all the family
being in the country ; and I preferred returning from
a visit in beautiful Stirlingshire, to my quiet home.

174 MEMOIR OF

Here 1 have time for thought ; and when thought
becomes perplexity, and faith grows weary, the mercy-
seat is near, and there my spirit is revived. r

In the diary, at this date, there is an observation on
one of the uses of social worship, which is true, but
will be new to those who have not experienced its
effect, by entering the sanctuary from solitude.

Diary, — " Sept. 27. — The close of another solitary
Sabbath. My present situation has shown me a use of
public worship, of which I never thought before — the
enlivening of those who dwell alone.. It is very re-
freshing to a spirit which has poured out its prayer to
God, but without one of human kind to express a feel-
ing to, to mingle with a large worshipping assembly in
praise and prayer. We are feeble, and need aids, and
this is a blessed one devised for us in much wisdom."
In this month, she wrote to a friend who had read
the Life of Byron : — " As to poor Byron, I am glad
you are but slamming the annals of his unhappy and de-
graded life, which I believe had better have been left
to perish in forgetfulness, than dressed in the smooth
language of Moore, to teach mankind the way to be
discontented and miserable. Blessed is the lowly and
humble saint, whose name is unknown, or known only
to be despised, but whose record is on high, and his
place secure in the purchased inheritance of. Jesus
Christ ! What a glorious spirit, what a vigorous
character, might the heaven-taught Byron have been !
What engines of good he might have moved ! what soul-
stirring songs of praise he might have penned ! — songs
that should have filled the mouths of the joyous and
the young, and cheered the lonely sufferer in the sad
night watches ! But all his powers .were employed —
were ruined — in the service of the prince of darkness,

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 175

and his name stands like an upas-tree, scathed and de-
structive, as far as its influence can reach."

To her Sister, then in London at School.

" Edinburgh, September 26. — I rejoice to hear that you
are in health and happiness, and thank our gracious
God, who watches over my dear sister in her new
home. I am grateful to the kind friends who take so
much pains to improve you, and to make you all that
we desire. I have great pleasure in thinking of you,
under the kind care of Mrs Evans, whose power to
charm away home-sickness I had many proofs of in for-
mer days.

" . . . .1 have been some time at Stirling, and
found the pure air and beautiful prospects quite reviv-
ing. I used to walk along a path formed round the
crag on which the Castle stands, and look at the range
of mountains in the distance, of which Benledi is the
monarch ; and then, turning to the other side, I feasted
my eyes on the nearer Ochils, which change their hue
with every variety of the atmosphere, while the country
before them is like a blooming well-cultured garden,
and the Forth winds around it like a serpent. By the
way, it cannot be said of it,

* The river wanders at his own sweet will ;'
for the cause of this twisting, wa3 the thickness of the
ancient Caledonian forest, through which the poor
stream was fain to make its way as it best could. To
give you an idea of the windings, Alloa, which is seven
miles from Stirling by land, is twenty- two by the river !
I had some pleasant drives in spite of heavy rains, and
was at Gargunnoch, the scene of a victory of ' the Wal-
lace wight' over the English. I visited Bannockburn,
and saw the ' Gilly's Hill,' down which the mock army

176 MEMOIR OF

poured to spread terror among English hearts of bravery.
So, you see, I have been on classic ground, and I hope
you may visit those scenes ere long.

" Oh ! my sister, have you given your heart to our
blessed Saviour? Have you asked Him to take it en-
tirely for his own, and to cleanse it from all iniquity !
Have you tried to love Him more, whose love to you
passeth knowledge ? Dearest child, may you be taught
by the Holy Spirit, how inadequate earth's dearest bless-
ings are to make us happy, without that love ; and how
firria and abiding is this portion in all outward changes.
Oh ! be you of those who early seek the Lord ; and
sometimes retire to your room, to pass a few minutes in
that communion with Him, which has made our wisest
and holiest men what they were. Tell H. I am charmed
with some portions of Coleridge's Aids to Reflection,
though occasionally he gets either out of my depth, or
his own, perhaps both. Miss M. and I are reading
together Ganganelli's Letters, which are written in
simple and easy Italian, and display, for a pope, no
small degree of candour and liberality. Our friends do

not forget J y, whose return will be a bright day

for all of us."

In the month of October, it was thought advisable
that she should taste a little more of the country air
before the winter closed in, and she enjoyed a brief ex-
cursion among kind friends in her native country. She
writes, " I greatly admire the country, which is pale
and lovely in its autumn dress, and often speak with
some of those dear young people, of the kind and gra-
cious Author of it all. AVe make little employments
here, as idleness is never happy. But no wish has ever
sprung up in my heart that such 'otium cum dignitate'
had been allotted to me, for though it is very pleasant.,

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 177

I feel that my heart is so apt to grow to weeds, it needs
th« safeguard of steady employment ; and I think I

should trifle likely, if I had nothing to do but please
myself, as is the case now. I thank you, my dear
mamma, and I thank Isabella Gordon for teaching me
to till up and value time, though I have not always
practised your lessons to my own satisfaction. Dear
V. has introduced me to some of her favourite books,
and last night we enjoyed some of Herbert's rich quaint
old poems, which contain as much in a line as many
of late date do in a page. Ever since our affairs went
wrong, I have had a restless feeling, as if I should be
better elsewhere than where I am. This is a wrong
state of mind, and I do not give way to it."

To Mr Duncan.

" October 12. — The Sabbath was valued, and helped

to extend my thoughts

1 Beyond the dark and stormy bound
That girds our dull horizon round.'

Oh, how gracious is it in Him who seeth not as a man
seeth, to hear prayer whenever it is offered, and bless
and support the soul that leans its feebleness on Him!
I would be bound to his service as long as I live. It
makes me happy to be conscious that now, seeing as I
do all that wealth can give, the elegance, the luxury,
and the complete command of time, I feel no wishes
rising that your destiny or mine had been other than it
is. Obscurity is safest, and the graces blossom best in
connection with regular and daily employment, above
all, when this has the glory of God for its immediate
object. So, to the work when our God calls us, cheer-
fully we will go, nor shrink from any toil He lays on us,
assured of deriving strength from his omnipotent love."

178 MEMOIR OF

During a morning drive with some of these amiable
friends, they visited the birth-place and former happy
home of their family, now deserted. In her poems of
this year is found one, which was probably never shown
to the much-loved companion to whom it was addressed.

" To V , on our Visit to the ' Bower Woods'

October 22, 1835.

Fairer than joy's meridian day of light,

Which with its radiance dims the dazzled eyes,

Is that calm twilight, soothing to the sight,

On whose pale gleam scenes dear to memory rise.

Hast thou not felt it, loved one, when thy heart

Refused to echo back the voice of mirth,
And mused, in its own solitude apart,

On former days, and friends released from earth ?

Yes ; and I felt it with thee, on the day

When we together sought thy native bowers,

And trod the wood-walks, where in infancy,

Thy playmates sweet beguiled with thee the hours.

Those glades were dear to thee as morning's beam ;

Each flowering thorn thou knew'st, each stately tree ;
And every mossy plant that fringed the stream,

And lowly wild-flower had a charm for thee.

Chill was the autumn breeze that o'er us blew,
Faint was the trembling warbler's greeting song,

And, sere and dry, the leaves of varied hue
Fell on the greensward as we passed along.

With thy fond thoughts the time accorded well,
A summer's day, too bright, had made thee sad,

For that lone bower, where memory loves to dwell,
No more resounds with voices young and glad.

Silent and torn, it seems to mourn the past,

Cold desolation marks its mossy wall ;
The bending trees that shade it from the blast,

Are monuments of joys beyond recall.

I marked the letters carved in that fair bower,
Simple and few, yet fraught with meanings deep —

Names traced by sportive hands in some gay hour,
O'er which thou lov'st to linger now and weep.

MAItY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 17:)

Yet in tliy tears is Miss; what, though the voice

That was thy music, thrill thy heart DO more ;
Its tuneful tones in heaven-taught hymns rejoice;

Its melody is full, its faltering notes are o"er.

And thou canst smile, in musing on the past,

To hail the future beaming* on thy view,
Where never sorrow can thy eye o'ercast,

Or joys celestial fade, or prove untrue.

Then, dear one, though time's ruthless hand efface
Each name that marked the forest bower thine own,

And rolling years destroy each early trace
Of sunny hours, too bright, too quickly flown :

Oh ! be each name enrolled by love divine,

In life's blest volume, in Emmanuel's land,
Where glory beams on every deep-traced line,

And words by Him inscribed, through endless ages stand !"

Referring to these endeared friends, she says, in a*

letter to her sister, "Dear A , who has not been

well for three years, is in a very interesting state of
mind ; indeed there is in her a rare simplicity and
purity of spirit. She is kind and tender and humble,
ever ready to excuse others and to search herself. She
has some solitary times in consequence of her weakness,
and I am sure they are blessed to her. Her Bible is
all marked over, and her favourite little companion is
' The Christian Year.' She is just my age, and it is
a striking lesson to see one so pretty and attractive, and
possessing all this world can give, save health, sub-
mitting without a murmur to the deprivations she is
obliged to undergo. Ah ! my sweet little sister, try to
fix your heart where hers is fixed, and then you too
will be at peace in all circumstances. It is on the state
of the heart that happiness depends, far more than on
outward things. I pray that you may be one of those
who shall rise up and call the Redeemer blessed. You
have many advantages at present ; I hope you try to

180 MEMOIR OF

profit by the instructions of masters and of your kind
friends. Do you ever write notes of the sermons ? I am
glad to think you are improving fast, and very happy.
But you know I always told you it would be so. I
hope you and S. A. try at your leisure time to do each
other good."

Before her return home, she passed a few days in her
native place, to experience other and deeper emotions
than those of the friend who had so recently, along with
her, explored the once happy home of her childhood.

" Kelso, October 23.

" My Dearest Mother, — It is some hours since I ar-
rived at my beloved former home, after a drive through
the well-remembered country on the finest day that has
shone since I left you. Every thing looked beautiful
and bright, and though the tears started in my eyes as I
passed one object, then another, that spoke of past days,
I was in a more grateful state than usual (yet oh, how
little !) in the review of mercies continued and mercies
given. The Tweed is blue and sparkling, as when I
knew it first, and laughs along its course, as if no weep-
ing eye ever turned to it for sympathy. It is not a
foolish feeling, dear mamma, that makes every tree and
field around the home of childhood so very dear. It
was from them that the first impressions were derived,
and the first tinge given to the thoughts of a spirit that
cannot die, but will have its actings carried through
eternity. Our home I did not look at ; but I could do
so now."

In a scrap found among her papers, she has written :
— " It is my home no longer, and yet the Tweed flows
along in the sunshine as before ; the well known trees
are covered with autumn's pallid leaves ; the fields, i

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN, 181

walks, and houses, are what I remember since long ago.
To-day, when tracing some of my old haunts, 1 could
almost have thought I had never been an exile. Bui
ah ! there is a weight that does not go, a remembrance

that, when even not formed into a distinct thought,
extends its sad and shady influence through ah my
heart. Our tie to this place, its ornament, my revered
and beloved father, has passed from the face of the
earth. Life may have new joys and fresh colouring,
but can never again be the unscathed thing it was. His
memory sweetly lives here, and his child is welcomed
by many kindly voices and smiling faces for his sake.
Wherever I go I see his picture hanging. Oh ! do
they remember what he taught them, as well as how
he looked ! My inclination would have induced me to
wander alone in my retired walks, and prayerfully to
recall the past; but it may not be, and the society so
dear to my beloved papa must have a powerful interest
for me. To-morrow is Sunday — oh ! may it do me
good ; I rather dread going to church."

bbath night, 2b. — A Sabbath at Kelso has flown,
and waked as it passed main' a silent chord, and made
it vibrate with full-fraught feeling. Jt was painful to
i to church, and my courage melted into tears as I
passed the threshold. Painful, too, it was to see my
father's pulpit, the very spot where I have seen his fea-
tures glow with earnest tenderness, occupied by another
— a stranger once, but now the pastor of the flock he
fed. The tones of the band and the old tunes went to
ray heart. In the afternoon, Mr T. preached, and bap-
tized Mr Macculloclfs babe, with a solemn exhortation
to him. It made me think of the time when my own
papa held up his first-born, his little Mary, that she,
too, might be admitted into the pale of the visible church.

182 MEMOIR OF

" We stayed in church for the Sabbath school, as the
school-house is being painted. I saw the youthful com-
pany assemble, and was affected at the small number
I recognized, and the change which three years has
wrought upon such as I did know. They took their
places under Mrs PL's kind eye, and I felt thankful that
such a directress is left them. N. T., my old scholar,
came there to see me, and gave me a cheerful affec-
tionate greeting. She is a woman now, and a steady
Christian. I urged her to try to meet with C. N. for
prayer, as in old times, and I think she will try. I was
led to a class, and getting into the pew among the little
ones, a flood of tears relieved me before I could begin
to teach them. They were too young to understand
the cause, and I heard whispers among them of ' Eh !
she's greetin.' Poor things, they did not know how
dear that school is to me, nor how it is associated with
beings most beloved, and times most precious — with
holy lessons received by me in childhood, and in turn
given in youth ; nor how the employ used to revive
me, and make me feel that even I need not live quite
in vain."

MAIIY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 183

CHAPTER IX.

SORROW TURNED INTO THANKFULNESS.

The appeal to the Synod in the case of Uit, prolonged
the period of suspense very painfully, but the triumph
of trust in the wisdom and love of the divine dispensa-
tion is clearly exemplified in the following letter : —

To Mr Duncan.
■ "Edinburgh, November 1G. — Submission is the Chris-
tian's duty ; the attainment of it his riches, the orna-
ment of his character, the test of his sincerity. And if
all these changes, and if many more disappointments,
result in teaching this, we shall not be able to say that
we could have dispensed with one. Holy, lovely heaven !
change never comes thither, sin does not deface its joys,
and they cannot end. When we are there, we shall be
blest, and every thing should help us to prepare.
Gracious Lord ! who sendeth sorrows here to detach
our frail hearts, and set them free to rise ! O, shall
we not glorify Him ? Yes, alone or united, be it the
joy of our lives to show forth his praise, and to honour
his commands by earnestly seeking obedient hearts."

Such were the pious sentiments called forth by this
painful stroke, and with these exalted views of the
divine will did she at once sustain her own soul, and
convey comfort to the hearts of those she loved. But

184 MEMOIR OF

a new and unexpected event soon changed the current
of her feelings, and converted her trustful resignation
into praise. While the appeal on the case of Urr was
depending, Mr Duncan had officiated for a short time
in Kinross-shire, as assistant to the minister of Cleish,
when that aged pastor died. The parishioners pre-
sented immediately an almost unanimous petition to
Mr Young, the patron, who resided in the parish, pray-
ing that Mr Duncan should be appointed successor.
To this petition the patron gave his hearty concurrence,
and Mr Duncan was in a few days presented to the
charge. The following entry in the diary expresses, in
a lively manner, the becoming sentiments with which
Mary received this gratifying intelligence, and affords
a new illustration of her habitual piety.

" Nov. 22. — Now the gloom is rolled away and the
bright sun of happiness appears. The buds of hope
and promise become green beneath his rays — the sad
heart revives and sends forth a song of joy and praise,
sweeter than the song of the birds at the approach of
spring. Bless the Lord, O my soul ! and delight thy-
self in the remembrance of Him. He has seen the tears
that feeble nature shed in the day of disappointed hope ;
He has marked the dread with which coming events
were anticipated, and He has with one word dispersed
those fears and changed the whole aspect of things.
He has, by his own hand, opened a way and pointed
W. to pursue it. He has desired him to pitch his tent
beside the flock at Cleish, and may we not trust that
His blessing will be with him henceforth, and that this
district may be brought into subjection to Jesus?
Away, distrust ! The Lord has provided. How sweet
an ending to an unquiet year ! Though the earthly
portion connected with it be slender, yet godliness with

MAKY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 185

contentment is great gain ; and if I do not err, there

will be much more than contentment. The 10th was
the day of the presentation, and now we are doubly
hound by trial and care on one hand, and by abound-
ing goodness on the other, to have faith in Him who
leads his children every step, and even when they dash
their foot against a stone, turns the pain to advantage."

The following letter was addressed to Mr Duncan,
when at Ruthwell : —

" Edinburgh, Dec. 3. — Long may your thoughts rest
on your happy home with as much love for it as you
feel now ; and long may it flourish under the directing
eye of your beloved father. Your mention of the dear
departed one,1 whose empty place saddens you now,
drew tears from my eyes. As years roll on, we learn
that we were born to die — we learn it often when those
who were life and light to us are taken away; and
anniversaries, marked by sorrow, thicken in the revolv-
ing seasons. But brighter in proportion should our
heavenly hopes become, and with more entire affiance
should we cling to the only friend who can never fail
A few mornings since, I lay awake, and thought
how sad it was that I had not my own papa to bless us
both, and share our joy now. But with a vividness I
cannot recall, the prospect of meeting him again, and
dwelling with him where he sees the light of his
Saviour's countenance, came before me, and checked
the momentary wish that he were in this poor dark
world again. Ah, what an unkind wish ! Be it ours,
wherever we are, to press for ward, and the pearly gates
shall be opened for us, and we shall be wTith our covenant
God, and those He has taught us to love so well. .

1 Mr Duncan's mother.

186 MEMOIR OF

" I find it necessary to join trembling with my happy
thoughts, for many lessons do I receive, that I know
not what shall be on the morrow. Yesterday M. A.
and I went among the Canongate poor, and tried to get
some of our absentees to school again. One poor man
I saw slowly dying of consumption at his work of shoe-
making. His sickly appearance interested me a year
ago, but I cannot get a word of him alone, for the small
room is always filled with his family, and I cannot
make out if he is ready for his awful change. O ! what
scenes of sorrow are in the world, when we come to
find them out ; and how many of them caused by sin !
To-day I went to the Charity Workhouse to see the old
women at work, and, if God spare me strength, I shall
take a day, weekly, for spending an hour or two in
reading and talking with them. How much strength
is spent for nought — how little to the glory of Him
who gave us all things ; and yet awful as He is in his
anger, and justly severe in his punishments, He spares
the fig-tree still, and waits for the tardy fruits. Shall
we not praise Him by lives of consistent holiness ? O !
we should live to Him ; and, after all, even if He had
suffered the clouds to blacken and the storm to beat,
Ave should have bad cause to love Him in that dark day,
for we know that He who spared not his own Son, can
send us nothing but what is in truth a blessing, though
it may come in the form of a very heavy punishment.
O ! pray more for me. I do feel that all things are
restless as ocean's waves, and could not make me blest
without the hope of a better life."

To her little Sister at School.

"Edinburgh, December 12, 1835.
" My own sweet Sister, — It always does me good

MAET LUKD1E DUNCAN. 187

to hear about you, and, most of all, when I am led to
hope that our gracious God is beginning to guide your
feet into the way of peace, and to make you his humble
and obedient child. lie will do it, for He is full of love
to our poor race, and is not willing that any should
perish ; and He would not have put into your heart a
desire to love Him, without designing to give you the
requisite grace, and to teach you by the Holy Spirit.
Cease to look for anything good in yourself; for, should
you live to be 100 years old, you will never find it. The
corruption of our hearts lies too deep for anything but

the blood of Jesus to wash away, and O, my J y,

does it not fill you with love and sorrow to think how
willingly lie shed it, and how often you have refused
to wash and be clean ? Your evil heart will tempt you
to wait a little. But God says, seek me early, ' To-day,
if you will hear,' etc. ; and you must not wait; there
is no time to lose. Life is short, and should be employed
in preparing for the eternity that will quickly come.
Death would not wait if God sent him to you ; and
more than all, the good Shepherd is waiting now, and
smiling kindly on you, and asking you to come that
your soul may live ! Oh ! may He bear you in his
bosom, and hide you under his wings for ever."

To Mr Duncan.

" Edinburgh, December 30. — I rejoice to hear that
you preached with ease on Sunday, and hope some word
wTent home to the conscience. When sermons are pre-
pared with prayer, may wTe not hope that they will prove
useful to some hearer, wThose case we may be ignorant
of, but for whose sake the subject has been suggested
to the preacher by the Searcher of hearts ? I long to
know more about the people of Cleish, their chief charac-

188 MEMOIR OF

teristics, and their state of advancement ; and, as you
become acquainted with them, you will let me know
the result of your observations. Oh ! my friend, have
we not cause to be happy and grateful ? We shall be
so indeed if we look to God as the first source of love,
the sun of our horizon, and regard each other's love,
however bright, however steady, but as the light of a
twinkling star which we may gaze on with delight, so
we never forget that no sweet beam would reach us but
for our glorious sun. But if wTe love the star too well,
and ascribe to it the fertility of the earth, and the bright
colouring of the flowers, have not our minds become
enfeebled and diseased, and shall we not one day look
back on our folly with grief and wonder ? . . . .
However well we may love, it shall not be idolatry, if
we are spiritually-minded, and give our first, our best,
our all to God. Seek to do this, I conjure you, and let
me feel at peace on your account. Let me not sink
under the thought that that attachment which I fondly
hoped would prove a source of nothing but good to you,
has loosened your hold of the cross, and made you tread
the pilgrim's path with slower and less resolute steps.
If it be so, can we expect to be spared to each other, or
that, being spared, we shall enjoy the peace we hope
for, or be shining lights in our day and generation ?
These are solemn thoughts, and the more so because
this year is just closing ; this year, in which we have
had so much to drive us to self- searching, as well as to
fill us with praise. . . . And now, let me wish you
a peaceful exit of the old, and a happy entrance on the
new year. When its first hour draws on, my hopes
and blessings will be towards you ; and if it be in
prayer, it cannot be wrong."

The events of the year 1835 were thus wound up,

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 189

and exhibit her full of love and zeal, active in duty,
patient in tribulation, instant in prayer. Souls, whether
of strangers or of endeared friends, were of inestimable
price in her sight: to win them to the Saviour, or to
purify her own, and render it more meet for the inheri-
tance of the saints, was her ceaseless aim. She had
selected the position of partner to a clergyman ; anil
now that his station was appointed, she prepared her-
self as sedulously for her share in the duties of a retired
country parish, as though she had resting on herself all
the pastoral responsibility.

Diary. — "January 1, 183G. — The year 1S35, with
all its perplexities and its joys, has mingled itself with
things which have been. It was begun with earnest
resolves to prefer God's law to all other things, to resist
temptation, and break snares, even when they were
twining most alluringly around me. These thoughts
and prayers were not without some effect. Yet — should
I have believed the vision had it been shown me when
the year began? Alas! human strength is but weak-
ness, and constantly contracted pollution needs constant
washing in my Lord's shed blood. How can I grieve
Him who gave his life for me ! My earthly friends I
have seen. There are some whose smile is dear to me
as the light of morning, and whose voice is melody to
my soul. Them. I do not forget. To them I could not
be untrue. Yet I am unmindful of Him whose eye is
ever on me, whose ear marks every word on my tongue,
who loves me, too, far better than any human heart
can love, and who will call me to account for all my
days of negligence and coldness. Great God ! take me
and make me holy, and melt me with thy love ; and
may this year be marked with a clear sense of forgive-
ness, and a constant dedication of myself to Thee. O !

190 MEMOIR OF

send a blessing larger than I can contain. This year
may produce permanent changes in my condition. We
cannot but hope, but would leave all to our King.
Meantime, may it be spent to his glory. I would ob-
serve a few points to aim at ; 1st, More openness and
confidence with my dearest mother ; 2d, Self-denial ;
8d, Diligent improvement of every hour; 4th, Lowliness,
esteeming others better than myself, not wishing to be
noticed or admired for my singing, looks, or conversa-
tion. Ah ! how mean and low is the state of the mind
that can let in such guests ! I would be emptied of self,
and made, like my Saviour, meek, lowly, humble, and
long-suffering."

Two lines written at this date show her ready sym-
pathy with the afflictions of others, referring as they
do to a neighbouring family of but recent acquaintance,
and remind us again of a never-failing method by which
we may succour the afflicted, even when we have no op-
portunity of ministering to them personally : — " Colonel

B died yesterday, and his wife and little ones are

desolate. Let me pray much for them."

Explaining her circumstances and prospects to her
friend Mrs Evans, she wrote : — " Do not, my beloved
friend, for one moment regret that I have not sought
wealth and its accompaniments in my choice for life.
You know I was not brought up to be rich ; my habits
do not require it ; and my real welfare is better ad-
vanced without what has proved a snare to many. I
love the work to which my friend has devoted himself,
and shall have more opportunities of seeking to glorify
God in doing good to my fellow-immortals than I might
probably have met with in any other station. I do hope
it is the God whom I desire to serve who has appointed
my lot. . . . Thus I have simply told you, my

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 11)1

second mother, the facte of the case. Mr Duncan loves
me very much, and, so far as human foresight can dis-
cern, I have a fair prospect of domestic happiness."

An extract from a letter to her sister, dated Feb. 12,
shows her sympathies still spread abroad on various
subjects, at a time when her own occupations and
anticipations might have swallowed up minds less in-
terested in the spread of justice and divine truth. "We
had a friend at breakfast, who gave us interesting ac-
counts of the theological and other seminaries throughout
the United States. He says many of the students are
candid truth-searching men ; and many of those now
coming forth into public life, will make a decided stand

against the system of slavery. Perhaps my J , we

may live to see the joyful day of freedom yet, in America.

11 We have a young minister in one of the Chapels
of Ease here doing much good. I feel that it would
be next to impossible to listen to his solemn prayers,
and not pray too. Pie has great nearness to God,
and, without very much talent, comes right to the
hearts of his hearers. I have heard some speak with
gratitude of the effect of his ministry on them. My

dear J , why should we not have this precious

access to God, this sweet savour of his love that would
make us truly happy, and a blessing wherever we go.
Great is our responsibility in regard to those around
us, and how can we commend in their sight the doc-
trine of godliness, if we do not keep our faces ever
turned towards the beams of the Sun of Righteousness,
Oh, never turn from Him ! wait on Him, gaze on Him
till you become like Him, as He commands. Do not
stop and loiter in the christian course, for it is all-im-
portant. Make it the chief object of every day to press
forward in the strength of our dear Redeemer, and only

192 MEMOIR OF

in it, for without Him, we can do nothing. He knows
your fears, and will remove them if you earnestly ask
it, by giving you the witness of your own conscience,
and more, the witness of the Spirit of truth, that you
are born of God and adopted into his family. Then,
my sister, ' the point you long to know,' will be in
doubt no longer ; but far from all self-confidence, and
only laying hold on Jesus' all-prevailing atonement,
you will be able to say, * I am thine ! ' Do not weary
or be discouraged, for the good Shepherd will lead you
by the hand, and uphold every stumbling footstep."

To her lately found London school-fellow, after men-
tioning various works of taste, which they had mutually
been reading, such as De la Martine's Travels in the
East, and after them Goode on the Better Covenant,
and Edwards on Redemption, she adds, " Ah ! M. A.,
dear, were our attainments equal to our advantages,
how different we should be ! As it is, the remembrance
of books and sermons, and converse that should have
quickened our steps towards our sinless heavenly home,
ought to lay us very low at the feet of Jesus, and to
make us feel that our best hours have need of being
washed in his atoning blood, and as it were annihilated,
at least as affording us the smallest ground of reliance.
Do you not feel safest and happiest when on your knees,
opening the secret places of your heart to God ? Let us,
dear, live more on prayer. Our minds seek other food,
amusement and instruction from other sources ; and it
is well. But through all this, sweet communion with
our Lord should be maintained, that we may grow into
his likeness, and transcribe his blessed example into our
lives."

Her friend, near London, who drew forth her sym-
pathies, and enlivened her piety to its most ardent ,

MAKY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 193

warmth, had been in deep and prolonged affliction. To
her she wrote in March in such a strain, that the reader
melts at the humility which ardour and exultation
serve but to increase : —

"March 1836. — It is a blessed thing to learn in
whatsoever state we are, therewith to be content. May
the Holy Spirit perfect the work of patience, and give
you bright and absorbing views of our better house
above ! Holy courts of our God ! we shall meet there
no longer to speak of sins and shortcomings, but to be
lost in the glory of the Eternal, and have but one aim,
full, satisfying, and enrapturing, to do Him honour, who
loved, and saved, and cleansed us, and gave us a place
before his throne. Should not such a hope make light
to arise even in darkness for us, and invigorate and cheer
us onward in the narrow way ? Oh ! for a clear and
never-failing evidence that we are advancing to this
bourne continually.,,

To a Friend in Kelso.

" Edinburgh, April 29 To me this has

been a weary time, and I have sickened for fresh air
and green fields ; but I know that the smallest and
greatest events of my life are ordered by a gracious
God, and I think I am learning to be a little more
submissive, and not to look for so much happiness in
this poor world as I once did. ' He shall sit as a re-
finer and purifier of silver,' and make me and all his
dear children meet for a better world, by every turn of
his providence." To the same dear friend she wrote
nearer the time of her marriage : — " . . . Your
beautiful present will be very useful to me, and, stand-
ing before me in my private hours, will remind me of
you, and bring to my heart the cheering hope, that the

194 MEMOIR OF

daughter of those who have been so dear to you, is still
helped and strengthened by your prayers. Ah ! do
pray much for me, dear friend. I feel that I need it
much at present, and I always shall. When a thought
of me glances across your mind, turn it into a petition;
for I would not be a barren fig-tree to stand before
the sacred courts of my God, and by a show of useless
leaves, hinder others from bearing the precious fruits
of righteousness. The situation on which I am about
to enter, is a most responsible one, for I must be in some
degree conspicuous to those around me, and if they get
evil instead of good by my influence, oh ! how shall I
answer it? But my hope is in Him, who increaseth
strength to those who have no might ; and when I
think of his Almighty arm being around all his re-
deemed ones, doubt and fear are changed to a calm and
trusting peace. But these things show you how much
I need the supplications of those to whom I am united
in Jesus Christ. I often remember the time when I
was your little bridesmaid, knowing little of the solem-
nity and the responsibilities of marriage, but sincerely
interested in your happiness. You have gained much
experience since that time ; why will you not help me
with it? You say, if I were not the daughter of my
dear mother, you would tell me some things that might
be useful. Do not refuse me one privilege because I
enjoy another. You may give me counsel in a diffe-
rent form, or tell me some things she may not think of,
and I shall be truly grateful if you will. ... I
took leave of my pleasant post among the aged women
in the Workhouse two days ago, and Providence sent a
young lady of deep piety to more than fill my vacant
place. I felt happy and thankful to be allowed to intro-
duce her among them, when I bade them farewell."

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 195

In the month of May she wrote to her friend near
London in rather a mourning strain, in consequence of
BOtue domestic obstacles, which for a time threw diffi-
culties in her way. But they, like other trials, led her
as ever to draw nearer to her Saviour.

" May 183G. — Could you have lived in my head for a
day or two this spring, you would have encountered
such a whirl of anxieties, and changes, and uncertain-
ties, and fears, as would have made you pity, and be
ashamed for, one of the sheep of the fold who could be
so affected by any thing that~did not take her away
from the green pastures and the still waters. In the
midst of all, I see the loveliness of Jesus, and the ex-
cellence of the portion He offers in clear contrast with
the fleeting bubbles of this world. I see, and love, and
admire. Yet I fear that all this spring's work has not
led me to a more entire surrender of self to Him. Many
wandering thoughts have mingled with my sacrifice, and
many vain thoughts have escaped me. But his deal-
ings with me are all right, and I most thankfully feel
that in Him I have what neither life nor death can de-
prive me of; and He would not have given me all those
subjects for thought, but to make earth seem less at-
tractive, and heaven shine on me with more of its own
glory. . . . The night wears away, and soon will
dawn a morning without clouds. How much to ani-
mate and to solemnize there is in this thought ! How
much to make us look past the small nothings of time
to the eternal hills ! My own friend ! to which of us
the call may come first we know not, but O ! how
sweet and firm is the love that binds us to Christ, and
in Him to each other ! and if it be so now, what will
it be when we have met to part no more, and have been
freed from all that dims the intellect, and chains the

196 MEMOIR OF

spirit, and turns it from the objects to which it will then
be for ever and joyfully directed. Oh ! are not all
things ours who have a hope so full of immortality ?
When I come back from such precious hopes, warranted
by the word of a Saviour, and look at my own incon-
sistent heart and life, stained with much evil, I am
filled with sorrow. But my Intercessor never fails.
What a dispensation of mercy we live under !"

The difficulties being removed, she wrote to the same
dear friend, in her usual sweetly dependent and watch-
ing frame : —

" June 1836. — Oh ! what a Saviour is ours, that even
the depth of our own corruption should be the means
of making his love more manifest to us ! How can we
ever wilfully grieve this 'Friend, that sticketh closer
than a brother ? ' My steps in the heavenly course have
been slow and faltering, and many who commenced it
later, have far outrun me. I only wonder that' I have
not been withered away like the fruitless fig-tree. But
since I am spared, I trust it is a token for good. There
is no Lord like ours — none other would have had
patience with me. Oh ! I desire to love Him with all
my heart, and I feel with you that it will be joy un-
speakable to be received into that place, where it will
be impossible to sin. Pray for me, dearest, as a poor
wanderer, who would fain cling to her Lord, but often
feels her steps decline. Oh ! when will He visit me
with the light of his countenance, and make me feel
the loss of his favour, or of one degree of it — a sorrow
that all the bliss of this world could not make tolerable
to me for one hour. I have complete trust in Him.
I know that He is God, and every word of his is
truth; but I have felt my own weakness in so many
ways, that I sometimes fear to lift up my soul to Him.

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 1(J7

He will never forsake me, a sinner, whom He very early
chose for a vessel of mercy ; but I mat/ be one of those
who are saved, 'yet so as by fire.' I may be much
lower in holiness and bliss in heaven, than those with
whom my heart is knit on earth. I may grieve, instead
of glorifying, my blessed Lord, by living for something
else more than for his honour. Ah ! do not cease to
entreat Him to show mercy to me, and sanctify me
wholly. I am very, very happy as regards my present
prospects. When I think of what I deserve, and what
I have, I am tilled with wonder. The clouds that
gathered round us for some time, are flying away, and
though it will never be all bright till we are in heaven,
there are many gleams of sunshine. A dear friend of
ours is dying fast. Many sorrows have turned her hair
too early grey, and given her a subdued, placid, heaven-
waiting look, unlike anything I ever saw. She is the
last of her race, and many of the strong and vigorous
have fallen before her. But what peace, what rapture
is in her heart and on her lips ! Amid her laboured
breathings, she speaks of the love of her Redeemer,
who is very near her in the day of her extremity, and
tells her friends to give thanks on her behalf. She
longs to be with Him, and feels no care now about
leaving the various useful works in which zeal for her
God had engaged her, and where her loss will be so
sadly felt. The Bridegroom calls, and she is ready to
go out to meet Him. May you and I thus die in the
sheltering arms of Jesus !"

To her Edinburgh class-fellow, then in the country,
she wrote in June : —

" We only visited the General Assembly once, at
the close. It was a tine scene. It was crowded with

198 MEMOIR OF

ministers and people, and the Moderator addressed them
solemnly, summing up the business, and giving a view
of the condition of the Church. Then the full body of
voice in singing the psalm was quite spirit-stirring, and
the thought that there were present the teachers of
thousands of God's people, and that on their faithfulness
or apathy the fate of souls might rest, called forth an
earnest prayer, that the Lord of Sabaoth would strengthen .
and enlighten those labourers in his vineyard."

A poem to W. W. D., " with a hair brooch," was
written and presented about this time : —

1 Thou need'st not talisman or gem
To turn thy heart to me,
"While nature wears her diadem
Of star, and hill, and tree.

All, with a whisper sweet and low,
Breathe of the happy past —

It lives in sunset's golden glow,
Nor dies in night's chill blast.

A rose-bud from the bowers of spring,

A lily of the vale,
Better than gold or costly thing,

Can tell affection's tale.

Yet roses fade and lilies die,
Thou canst not stay their doom,

Or read of love that will not fly,
In their departed bloom.

But this memorial, not so bright,

Is not so frail as they ;
It will not shrink from frosts by night,

Or droop 'neath summer's ray.

Should heavenly wisdom ever tear
Thy loved one from thy side,

This little lock of shining hair
Shall near thee still abide.

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 199

Should Ho with yean of pleasure bless

Thy long, thy faithful truth,
Thou still wilt smile upon the tress,

Bright with the dreams of youth.

Then guard the pledge upon thy breast,

The treasure in thy heart ;
And may we meet where love is blest,

And saved ones cannot part.*'
May 2G, 1S3G.

Diary. — " May 5. — This is the clay appointed for
humiliation and prayer ; and truly there is that in the
review of the past which ought to humble me. When
I glance back on many days of mercy, I see a crowd of
sins filling them, and perhaps those that have been
marked by the greatest outward happiness, have been
ihe most sinful. God has waited, and had patience
with me, and given me very many good things ; nor
has He withheld rebuke and fear. He has sought, in
all ways, to win me to himself; and how often, when
He looked for grapes, has He found wild grapes !
The frequent prayer of my heart, in reference to my
prospects, has been, 'Thy will be done ;' and yet my
ways have often been quite opposed to that holy will.
1 In heaven,' dear F . writes, ' it will be quite im-
possible for me to sin.' Oh, blessed impossibility ! How
often have I deemed myself fenced round with what
would keep me from sin, and yet have been drawn
aside ! But then I shall be as my Saviour is ; and if
I, in truth, desire it, I must keep my model ever before
me here, and not shut my eyes on Him, to feed on

ashes. On my birth -clay, my dear "W was here.

Oh ! I should like to help him on to heaven ; and, if it
please God to fulfil our hopes, I shall be better able to
do it than now. Our God knoweth that we love Him,
and will, I do believe, bless and lead us all our life long.

200 MEMOIR OF

I would pray much for our connection, that it may give
glory to God, and profit to us, and do much for the
spread of Jesus' kingdom in his people's hearts, and in
the whole world."

"June 5. — During the last month, prospects have
assumed an air of greater certainty, and hope and hap-
piness are my prevailing feeling, and sometimes thank-
fulness. But must mine always be the language of.
complaint ? I have felt earth twining round me, and
gaining on me. The needful preparations have en-
grossed my thoughts at seasons when I should have
been ashamed to allude to them by word or action.
They have mingled in my attempts to pray, and drawn
me aside when the word of truth was sounding in my
ears. Ah, deceitful heart, when shall I conquer thee !
Shall eternity and its sublime and awful, but most de-
lightful realities, be driven into the second place, for the
sake of ' the meat that perisheth,' and with which, for
aught I know, I may be done in an hour or a day ? I
am a faithless child of Jesus, but still his child, because
He chose me in his free mercy, and ransomed me. Would
that I had such an heart, that I could serve the Lord
indeed, and keep his commandments. I am afraid of
the next five weeks, — the last spent ' in my mother's
house in my youth.' There will be many plans to form,
and much of extra exertion to be got through, and shall
I be carried farther from my King ? Now, let me have
more time for retirement and prayer ; my life must lan-
guish without it. Let me seek such a spiritual frame
as may enable me to look on ' time's things ' as nought
compared with my own and my neighbour's immortal
interests. I look with solicitude, but still more with
joy, to the approaching event. The lines have fallen
unto me in pleasant places. I pray my dear Saviour to

BfABY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 201

make this union the means of promoting the life of faith
in our own souls, and of spreading his glorious kingdom
all around us. Great may be our fears from our own
sins and infirmities, but what may we not hope from
his large and remembered promises ? Shine on us with
thy light, O Lord ! revive thy work ! and bless the
attempts of that pastor of thine to win souls ; and let
us be as a garden of the Lord, watered with the rain
and dew of the Spirit that shall make us ever fresh and
green ! 0 may holiness be written in our hearts and
lives ! May zeal for God surround us, and our own
things be to us as nothing, compared with the honour
of our Saviour's name ! "

This is the last entry in the diary before the 11th of
July, when the marriage was solemnized.

202

MEMOIR OF

CHAPTER X.

A NEW HOME.

Among the circumstances of her marriage-day only one
recurs to the imagination with the vividness of reality,
as worthy to be particularized, and it will bring the
image of her who is now a bride in heaven, in the beauty
of her holy, humble, beaming smile, to the mind of many
a loving and beloved friend. A party of lively and in-
terested cousins and friends had busied themselves in
decorating the drawing-room for the solemn service
during the morning. After their pleasant task was ac-
complished, and they had retired, one who felt a quieter
and more profound anxiety for her happiness, stole
gently to that room, which, for the time, seemed to
possess the air of a sanctuary. The door having been
opened noiselessly, the chamber was surveyed. There
hung the gay bouquets of flowers, which, in compli-
ment to the taste of Mary, were in unusual profusion.
There lay the gaily adorned bride's cake, which, accord-
ing to the fanciful custom of the country, is elevated
into great importance. There stood the sofa, wheeled
with its back to the light, from which the pair were to
rise to take their solemn vow ; and there in front of
that sofa kneeled the lovely bride, so deeply absorbed
in communing with her God, that she was unconscious
of the presence of an intruder. The occasion was too

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 203

sacred to admit of social union, even in prayer, and (he
door was closed as it had been opened, with a petition
that Jehovah would hear and accept her Sacrifice, with-
out her becoming conscious of the inspection of a human
eye.

The next entry in the diary is dated Barnes, a man-
sion-house in the parish of Cleish, where the young
couple resided for some time, while the manse was
preparing.

^"Barnes* August 5. — On the 11th July, I was unite!
by Mr Grey Lo my beloved Wallace, and a new period
in my life began. How soon may it end ! Amid the
busy preparations, the gifts of kind friends, and the
numerous farewells, the thing itself did not, perhaps,
hold the prominent place that belongs to it ; and it was
well ; for, from what I have experienced since, I think
my feelings would have been overpowering. In the
firtt part of the ceremony, the effort not to weep made
me shake like a leaf, and dear aunt Jane held me up,
but before the close I was calm — it was short but
soothing and pious, and the firm emphatic tone, yet
full of feeling, in which my W; said the words ' I do,'
encouraged me greatly. I did not think so much ex-
pression could be put into two simple words. My
friends looked bright and kind, and there was a lovely
train of cousins and sisters — how soon some of them
will be settled far, tar from me and my little nook.
. . 21. — Returned to Ruth well — Friday was Fast-
day, my dear W. and I joined in prayer several times
in its course. After the last time in the evening, I felt
a bright glow of happiness, joy in being united to one
who would serve God with me, and in being permitted
to tell my thoughts and seek grace and strength from
that great Bein^ together. It was one of those hours

204 MEMOIR OF

that are as green islands in the waste of ocean, often
and brightly remembered. . . We came home to
Barnes on Saturday, 30th July 1836, and had nearly
a week of wet weather. For some days, however, it
has been fine ; the sunbeams throw the shadows of the
trees on the grass, roses and willow herbs bloom around
me, deep woods shelter our spacious dwelling, and every
thing tells of happiness and hope, the gracious gifts of.
God. I have felt the separation from a mother so re-
vered, and all the loved home circle, more since coming
here than on the 11th, or even before, I think. But
my husband smiles so tenderly and beamingly on me,
that I feel I could give up still more for him. Oh ! let
me try to make him happy, and never let the tender
flower of love be nipped by hasty words ; let me try to
make his home comfortable, and study his tastes, even
in small things. Our income amply supplies our pre-
sent wants ; and when the thought of the future comes
over me, I turn it into a prayer for increase of faith,
for what have the future and I to do with each other ?
I mean not only to give orders, but sometimes to super-
intend their execution ; and I hope it may be proved,
in our experience, that godliness with contentment is
great gain. How numerous are our blessings ! W.'s
people love him ; the surrounding families here have
received me kindly ; we have lovely scenery around,
and are engaged in the most honourable work that can
employ mortal man. Shall we not raise here our
Ebenezer, and bless the Lord who hath done so great
things for us ? "

Such was the strain of gratitude which flowed in
unison with the fulfilment of that plan which had so
long appeared in the distance, and the accomplishment
of which formed one of the stages in life's brief journey.

.

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 205

But on this journey, where is perfect happiness I " The
depth says oi it, as of wisdom, It is not in me. The
sea saith, Not with me. It cannot be gotten for gold,
neither shall silver be weighed for the price thereof."
In acquaintance with God, there is peace ; in the know-
ledge of Christ Jesus, there is hope. But present happi-
ness, that joy which hath no unfulfilled desire, is not
au earthly joy. God understandeth the way thereof.
He knoweth the place thereof. It is in heaven. Even
a king's daughter — a bride of heaven, finds it not easy
to forget her own people and her father's house ; and
the more tender and grateful the heart, the keener the
longings after those who have been loved and left
behind. Sir W. Jones' translation of the adieus of an
eastern lady, though applying not to kindred but to
accustomed objects, in part exhibits the sentiment: —

" Wept o'er each flower, her garden's blameless pride,
Kissed the young fawn that sorrow'd by her side ;
Still to relieve her bosom's bursting swell,
To flower and fawn prolong'd the sad farewell."

Thus, amid the accomplishment of her wishes, wrote
the young wife : — " O, it is sad, this severing of early
ties ! and many a pang it costs me. I am very happy
with him for whom I gave them up, but still I am in a
land of strangers. Yet the mercy of the past makes
me hope for the future, that the kind hand of Provi-
dence will be over me still, to bless, and teach, and
succour me."

To her London School-fellow.

" Banies House, September 14, 1836. — I always loved

you, as I used to fancy, much more than you loved

poor me. But every letter you write makes me long

more for a renewal of that intercourse which was de-

206 MEMOIR OF

lightful, but too brief. Now, we could hold sweet
counsel ot Him whom we have both found to be the
best of friends, and whom we both desire to honour
with the best of* our time and our affections. Ah !
what an added charm there would have been in our
friendship, could we have done so then ! My heart is
full of thankfulness for you, dear friend, and I earnestly
hope that you, who began later, have far outstrip-
ped me in the Christian race ; for I have to deplore
many wanderings of heart from God, and much cold-
ness and ingratitude. Would that I could love Him as
the angels do, and find, at all times, my life, my solace,
in converse with Him ! But were I to permit my harp,
which is hanging on the willows, to emit the sounds
most congenial at this moment, you would have to
listen to a sad and plaintive lay ; so I must be less
selfish, and try to strike up a more cheerful strain, only
entreating you first to pray often for me. Dearest,
may I think that every Friday night you pray specially
for me ? This is what I mean to do for you, and I
think we should both derive much comfort from it.
Let me thank you warmly for your kindness in sending
Ion — charming Ion ! How I admire his noble char-
acter ! I feel almost as strong a wish to know Tal-
fourd as Meta did to know Klopstock, after reading the
Messiah ! W. could tell you that he thought I had
almost lost my senses while he read it to me — it pro-
duced so strong an effect. Yet it was not the beauty
of the poem alone, but my own state of mind, that
made me so alive to its strong touches of feeling ; for
I had just bid adieu to my mother and my pleasant
home, and was feeling the loneliness of my new position
more than, I hope, I shall ever feel it again. The
weather was dismal, and W. was much engaged in

MAKY LUND1E DUNCAN. 207

>tudy ; and when I roamed about in this great un-
social looking house, I felt as if 1 had been dropped
down in the midst of a wilderness. . . .

" Now that we are settled in our retired and peace-
ful home, striving in some degree to fulfil the very im-
portant duties to which God has called us, W, is very
desirous to adopt every plan for the improvement of
his people, and has opened Sabbath-schools, and classes
for grown-up young persons — encroachments on Satan's
reign, unknown here formerly. Do pray for a blessing
<>n this little flock. I feel Howe's remark to be true,
that our words may come forth as idle breath, dispersed
before they reach the hearts to which they are addressed.
But let us seek the presence of the quickening Spirit,
who can call the dead to life, and then the work must
prosper. Write soon, love, to one who always prizes
your letters, and surely will not do so the less, because
she is now removed from all she loves except one, and
has a life of more solitude in prospect than she ever
had before. w

Occupation for the benefit of the strangers who were
to be in future her neighbours, was the best emollient
for the wounds inilicted by being unrooted from the
family of her youthful and constant associates, and the
objects of so much sisterly regard ; and before she had
been many days in her new station she writes: — " I hope
to begin a class of young women next Sunday morning.
Do pray for us."

In the diary, October 1, the aspirations after more
spirituality and usefulness are as ardent as ever. A
small portion of them is extracted.

" Well, I have always disappointed myself ! I thought
before, that when we were united, I should be able to
help W. more than I have done ; and what has become

208 MEMOIR OF

of this hope ? But it is not too late yet. I trust God
will enable me to live much closer to Him, and then I
may reasonably hope to be useful to my dear partner ;
for in converse with God is my strength. Help me, O
Lord ! for if Thou do not always speak to me by thy
teaching Spirit, I must fall ; and oh ! let me not turn
a deaf ear to that sacred instructor."

" October 9. — Not at church, because I have had a
severe bilious attack the last two days ; I am much
better to-day, and enjoy the respite. I have had my
class — fourteen present. It was, on this occasion,
strictly preparatory to the Lord's Supper. We read
Matt, xxvi., and my heart was enlarged in speaking of
the necessity for self-examination, and of the blessed-
ness of saints in taking leave of ordinances for ever,
and being in the very presence of God. Mentioned
Matthew Henry's illustration, ' When the sun shines,
farewell candle.' Some looked anxious and serious.
Oh ! I hope the Lord has his own among them ! Of

M S I have good hope. But if more be not

true Christians, how grievous ! They all seek admit-
tance to the feast."

To a newly-acquired cousin she wrote: — "I must find
time to thank you for your very kind and welcome
lines. There are few people on whom affection is better
spent than on me, for it comes ' sweet as the south wind
breathing o'er a bank of violets,' and does not, like that
sweet odour, exhale as soon as diffused around me. I
am glad that my visit to Ruthwell has made me ac-
quainted writh you, and I am sure we shall not forget
each other ; for we are neither of us very cold, and
Christian love would live, even supposing our regard on
other grounds might dwindle. Wallace is a most kind
husband, and had I not breathed in infancy the air of.

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 209

reserved Scotia, I should say much, much more about
him. He is hard at work in his parish, and I am very
desirous to assist him in the spread of gospel truth.
Pray that we may both find grace according to our day."

To her Correspondent near London.
"September 1836. — Sweet fellowship with God! would
I knew more of it, and drank deeper of the waters of
life, which take away all other thirst, and make the
things of this life seem as nothing ! Ah ! my friend,
let us try thus to look upon all the little crosses of life ;
they will last but through the winter. Spring — ever-
lasting spring — will soon come, and then how peacefully
shall we repose under the beams of the Sun of life,
and remember sorrow but as a departed friend, sent to
quicken our footsteps to our blessed resting-place. Dear-
est F., how we should love that Saviour who has given
us such immortal and unfailing hopes to nerve the spirit
to the conflict, and urge it to go on a little longer, assured
of quick and sure relief ! Let us love Him more. Whom
have we in heaven or on earth like the ' Friend that
sticketh closer than a brother?' In what is there so
great delight as in keeping his commandments? On-
ward, dear sister in Christ ! Each day brings us nearer.
Oh ! may each day quicken our progress to it ! Then
will be no more discouragement, or weakness, or mourn-
ing for sin ; but an overflowing of joy and love, in the
immediate presence of Him, whom, now unseen, we
love ; and who can tell how soon this blessed consum-
mation may be ours? We must not slumber at our
posts ; for behold, ' the Bridegroom cometh.' Alas !
you do not know what a poor, feeble, faltering creature
is thus writing of the hopes revealed in the gospel ; yet
I may so write, for even to me these hopes have been

o

210 MEMOIR OF

revealed ; and though often ready to halt and to stumble,
they are — oh, that they were more constantly and joy-
fully ! — my song in the house of my pilgrimage. Blessed
Saviour, who does not weary of loving and leading me !
Blessed gospel, which is full and free enough for the
vilest !

" Do you not find, as I do, that it is much easier,
and more congenial to the busy heart, to work than to
wait ? Both must be learned, and I have lately felt a
strong need of the latter lesson. I am too impatient,
longing too much to see some fruit — the conversion of
one soul, the melting of one hard heart. In short, I
fear I am like those of old, who asked for a sign. It
would be indeed a joy and delight, beyond what words
can utter, to be the instrument, in the hand of God,
for the rescue of one poor wanderer. But He has many
to work for Him, and many ways of working, and his
kingdom will surely extend, whether it be in the way
that pleases us best or not ; so I must seek to be patient,
and if I walk in darkness, and have no light, to trust
still. Even did the blessing of God descend on me so
richly as to give ' souls for my hire/ his wisdom might
see it good to hide it from me, and never let me know
it, till I am where I shall sin no more ; yet, when I
read and hear how eminently his grace has been made
manifest in other places, I cannot but cry, ' Hast Thou
not a blessing for me also, 0 my Father ? ' "

Her sisterly counsels after the return to school run
thus : —

"Barnes j Oct. 5, 1836.

" My Dearest J , — I have your steam-boat

letter, and rejoice to hear of your safe and pleasant
arrival. Were you but beside me now we should have

MARY LT7NDIE DUNCAN. 211

a famous sisterly chat I thought of you, dear, parting
with mamma and tossing on the waves, and felt a sweet
hope that you enjoyed the presence of that heavenly
Friend, who often seems nearest when outward joys are
removed. Did you feel that lie was near you when
you were rocked on the waves of his ocean ? and do
you feel it now amid your pleasant daily round of
duties? I wonder if you experience much of the hap-
piness of my school days — the ardent wish to improve
each hour, and the delight in overcoming difficulties
which made the days fly fast, and seem always too short
for their work. . . . Did dear S. A.'s eyes grow
brighter at the sight of you ? I know you must have
enjoyed each other much already. Remember, my dear
girls, to take counsel still of the things that belong to
your peace. Lest by trifling talk your impressions fade
and your hearts grow cold. Dear H. is no longer near
to steal up to your room at night, and help you by her

advice and prayers. So, dear J y and S. A., cling

close to your Lord, and be helpers to each other in
every thing pure and holy. Pray together when you
can find opportunity- , and you will feel much refreshed,

. . . I have found real friends in the Misses S ,

whose piety and intelligence delight me. They are
very fond of my dear Willie too. Farewell, my lassie,
and remember toujours ta soeur affectionnee.

" Mary L. D ."

Shortly after this she writes : —

" We have had some evenings' work in preparing the
library books, which were circulated yesterday, to the
delight of the children. I took a class in the Sunday
school, and if I am as well as at present, shall rejoice
to do so regularly. Oh, I am thankful for this good

212 MEMOIR OF

health ! I have never felt more alive to the necessity of
being diligent in the duties of every day, since I was

married, than I do now. Yesterday M S l

told me, with tears in her eyes, that she should come
to me no more, as she is going to place ; — she must go,
too, before the communion ; — so here I am deprived of
the girl I had most comfort in ; but I think she has
that in her which will keep her wherever she is."

Again she writes after their first communion ser-
vice : —

" We want christian friends sadly here ; but if the
Holy Spirit gives us more of himself, even this want shall
be a blessing. We have had a sweet season of com-
munion, and surely a blessing from on high. Pleasant
it has been to me to sit in the sanctuary, while my dear
husband's voice warned sinners to flee from the wrath
to come, and told tenderly of a Saviour's dying love.
I believe many felt it a blessed day ; and should it not
be always thus ? for how large the promises of the Insti-
tutor of the feast, to be present with his people at this
his own sacred table ! "

Of this service, her own personal enjoyment of it, her
hopes for the young people, her domestic arrangements,
etc., a farther view is given in the following extract.
To the families of the Manse, the arrangement is fami-
liar— to others it will be new : —

" We have had a sweet season of communion ' plea-
sant within and without,' as one of the elders said to
me. The day was fine, the church crowded, and dear
W., I think, received aid from his heavenly Father.
He dwelt much on the love of Christ constraining us to
live to his glory, and fenced the tables solemnly, com-

1 A young woman of the class.

AfABY LUXDIE DUNCAN. 213

forting the penitent, and warning away the hardened.

I sat between him and Miss S , at the second table

— the very company that I should have chosen. Our
servant was a communicant, and by having almost every
thing done before going to church, I have not been ob-
liged to keep her at home from any of the services. The
elders dined here on their way home, and we had early
family worship before they left us. We prepared cold
dinner on Friday and Saturday, and there was no bustle.
My heart fills when I think of the young people. There
were about thirty who stood up in solemn self-dedica-
tion as they do at Ruthwell, on Saturday. They filled
the long pews fronting the pulpit. Oh, it would be
cheering could one believe them all animated by one
heart and one soul ! Pray that the service may be a
pillar of remembrance to us all, for the Lord hath done
great things for us, and shall we not praise Him with
our lives, as well as our lips? ... I feel that
much lies on me, and I must work while it is day ; but
my heart is very deceitful. Impressions fade easily.
If my Lord did not pour in oil, even when I ask Him
not, or ask Him feebly, my glimmering lamp would go
out. But I feel this will not be ; for He is faithful."

Among the pleasing employments of this winter, was
her preparation of various papers for Dr Duncan's work
entitled the " Sacred Philosophy of the Seasons," which
he delighted to make a family concern, by receiving a
few contributions. His contributors, however, had the
advantage of selecting their subjects from his list, while
he wrote on all those which failed to attract his circle.
Mary's papers were simple, discriminating, and adorned
with the elegance which her mind imparted to every
subject. " The Rose," " the Bat," " the Mouse,"
" Sabbath Morning," and an " Autumnal Sabbath

214

MEMOIR OF

Evening," are marked with her initials, M. L. D. In
a letter early in the year 1837, she inquires : —

" Has uncle Henry seen the Journal of a Naturalist,
which I am reading ? It would be after his own heart.
The description of the snow-drop there, suggested to
me a few verses, which I thought of sending, to see if
they are fit to appear in better company in his Spring
volume ; but I believe they will be too late for it."

" TO THE SNOW-DROP.

Hail ! rocked by winters icy gale,

And cradled in thy nest of snow,
Thou com'st to hear sad nature's wail,

When all, save thee, lies waste and low.
From joy's gay train, no garish hue,

Fair hermit, stains thy pearly form ;
But, to thy parents' sorrow true,
Thou meekly bow'st thy head before the sweeping storm.

Rising amid our garden bowers,

That yield to thee no sheltering screen,

Thou bidd'st us hope for brighter hours,
When spring shall weave her wreath of green.

Nor there alone,1 in some lone glade,
Deserted now by all but thee,

Thou mark'st the spot where breezes strayed
'Mong summer's richest bloom, that lured the wandering bee.

Tho' one and all the smiling train

On the forsaken bank have died,
The dews of eve have fallen in vain,

And morn has called, but none replied ;
Yet lingering there in pensive grace,

Thou mourifst alone the wreck of time ;
The cottar's ruined dwelling-place,
The evening hearth of old, the happy voices' chime.

' The damask rose, the daffodil, or the stock of an old bullace plum, will long remain, and
point out where once a cottage existed ; but all these, and most other tokens, in time waste
away ; while the snow-drop will remain, increase, and become the only memorial of man and
his iabours.---«/oiir/«a/ qf a Naturalist.

MABT LUNDIE DUNCAN. 215

And sb;ill wo rail this earth our own,

Since longer lives thy feeble frame,
To deck the path when we are gone,

And none is left to tell our name?
No ! speed we to the holy shore,

Where souls made pure shall find their rest,
When earth and all her dreams are o'er,
And all the gathered flock are with their Shepherd blest !

M. L. D."

216 MEMOIK OF

CHAPTER XI.

PAROCHIAL SOLICITUDES — MATERNAL EMOTIONS.

Two brothers and a cousin passed their week of respite
from study, at the close of the year, with her ; and it is a
subject of grateful remembrance, that from this visit, and
these efforts for his spiritual weal, one dear youth dates
his first awakening to the value and peril of his soul ;
and if shortly he shall have the honour to deliver the
message of reconciliation to others, her spirit in heaven
may be a partaker of the joy occasioned by the return
of those sinners whom he shall invite. George, then
at Glasgow College, wrote to his mother : — " I enjoyed
a pleasant Sabbath, and Mary took R. and me, after
church, to pass some time alone, when we all three
prayed. It reminded me forcibly of the time when we
used to meet with you for a similar purpose.,, To him
she wrote, after he had returned to his studies : — " Kin-
ross, Feb, 7, 1837. I have stolen away from a friend's
drawing-room, to pen such a note as I have time for.
I am sorry you have had influenza, and hope you are
strong again. Such slight discipline should make us
look well to our ways, and see why our kind Lord
smites us ; lest by refusing the intended lesson, we
draw on us sorer punishment. I hope that, whether
confined in solitude, or in the midst of the lively
interest of your classes, you keep near Him, and seek
Him as the companion of all your ways. I was struck
lately by reading the answer of a good man by those

MART LUNDIE DUNCAN. 217

appointed to try if he was fit for the ministry. They
asked if he had felt a work of grace in his heart. He
replied, ' I call the Searcher of hearts to witness that I
make conscience of my very thoughts.' What a proof
of sincerity ! What a sure way to have the light of
God's presence shining on his path ! Often we chase
away the Spirit by indulging vain and profitless thoughts ;
and being thrown off our watch, we lose, through their
wily insinuations, our peace and joy in believing; and
our hearts grow cold, and our graces languish. These
vain thoughts produce vain words ; and we do a great
amount of mischief to those we ought to help onward
to our heavenly home. Oh, my dear brother ! let us
together try to guard those traitor thoughts, and keep
all the secret recesses of our spirits open for the pure
life-giving beams of the Sun of glory. Then we shall
fulfil the great end of our being, by growing into the
image of God, and we shall benefit our dear ones, and
all with whom we shall come in contact ; for do you
remember those words, so full of precept for us, ' The
tongue of the righteous is a fountain of life ;' and again,
' The lips of the righteous feed many.' The best guard
against vain thoughts is a heart much at the feet of
Jesus, constantly drawing near to the mercy-seat, and
exercising itself in loving fervent prayer ; for how can
vanity find a place in the consecrated temple of the
living God ? I did not mean to write all this ; I know not
how I have been led to it ; but tell me soon the state of
your mind, and then I shall kaow better wdiat to say."

To her excellent friend, near London, who was con-
fined by bodily infirmity to a limited circle of occupa-
tions, she wrote, unfolding some of her fears, as to her
performance of duty : —

"Jan. 1837. . . . The sense of the tenderness

218 MEMOIR OF

of that best Friend, and his watchful love in the hour
of sorrow, can not only make that sorrow tolerable,
but invest it with a peace and comfort unfelt at other
times. And such, dearest, has been your frequent ex-
perience, I trust ; for, shut out as you have been from
active life, you have dwelt in the secret of his presence,
and watched for the tokens of his love, and welcomed
every cheering promise as a message from your Father.
This lengthened period of delicacy grieves me for you,
and yet were it not best, the burden would be removed.
I can only pray that it may be borne for you by Him
who did not refuse to bear the cross for you and for
me, and that you may be brought to complete submis-
sion, and blessed with a heart-reviving view of another
and holier state of existence. My friend, when you are
admitted to that lovely home for which you wait, will
it not be joy to you, that so many days on earth were
spent in the sombre shade of trial, if so you have been
brought at all nearer to Jesus ? Even now you can
feel it so. How much more when the time of probation
is ended ! But these cheering hopes are not always ad-
mitted. If they were, sorrow would be all joy. The
downcast heart mourns the multitude of its sins, and
feels as if such comfort were not for it. How sweetly,
at such times, sounds the Saviour's voice, ' Be of good
cheer, I have overcome ! ' Then comes a feeling of
shame and contrition that we have doubted where there
is so much abounding love, such willingness to present
for us every feeble cry before the merey-seat, and we
return unto our rest — that quiet and beloved haven,
where we have so long been anchored ; and looking out
upon the storm and cloud which gathered when we left
it, we cling more firmly to the Saviour, who in giving
us himself, has freely given us all things. So wayward

MART LUNDIE DUNCAN. 219

is my heart, that in the midst of many mercies that enter
into my lot, I sometimes look at your retirement with a
Sigh. My burden is different from yours ; but the same
unfailing One will strengthen me for it. My position is
much less sheltered than ever it was before. You will
see how weak I am, when I tell you, that I often shrink
back, and wish I were not the person to act and make
decisions, but that I had a mother with me still, behind
whose shadow to retire as I was wont to do. I make
no allusion to situations in which my husband is called
to act ; there, though even to advise is a great respon-
sibility, it is not the chief. But there are many which
peculiarly belong to myself, and I daily feel the want of
wisdom to lead me on. I now feel these words ' Ye are
as a city set on an hill.' The character and advance-
ment of the simple and teachable people here depends,
under God, very much on my husband, and, there-
fore, a good deal on me. I always liked to work for
Him who has loved me, but now there is a different
feeling ; something like this — ' If I do not work, or if I
work wrong, the cause of God may be injured.' I fill
a place that some wise and holy child of God might
have filled, and many look to me for instruction, ex-
ample, and counsel — to me ! who have despised so many
mercies, and grieved my Master so many times. Does
this, dear F , let you into my mind ? Before, I la-
boured in co-operation with others, and moved on their
plans. Now, W. and I labour in some things alone ;
in others, with those who look to us to devise the
methods. Will you lecture me for my creature de-
pendence, and tell me of the fulness of my Lord? and
oh ! while you do this faithfully, pray that I may re-
ceive of that fulness, and that strength may be perfected
in my exceeding weakness. Were you near, I could

220 MEMOIR OF

make you understand exactly how it is, and you would
say to me, as I often do to myself, ' Martha, Martha,'
etc. The root, I believe, of much of my anxiety is, that
I have lately been more cold in closet duties than I
used to be. At times I feel Jesus near, and the Spirit
helping me, but often other thoughts intrude, and the
gentle calls of my Lord have little power to win me to
a patient waiting in his presence. How long shall it
be so ? Ah, my own kind friend ! now, when you are
much shut up to prayer, remember me, a poor and help-
less, and, nir worse, a vile and ungrateful rebel, encom-
passed with blessings, and cold towards the Giver. My
short life has been filled with tokens of his faithfulness,
and yet I am often distrustful. Oh, my holy Saviour!
when shall I be made like Th'ee ? I hope this state of
things is not to last, but that the sweet glimpses which
are given sometimes of forgiving love, may become
abiding peace, and unwearied waiting on my God. I
have had great delight in dear George's late visit. His
heart is earnest in seeking, first, the kingdom of God,
and glowing with desire for the conversion of the
heathen. He has got into a circle of pious young men
at Glasgow College, and I think a spirit is among them,
whose fruits will be seen when they come out as minis-
ters of the everlasting gospel.

" I have had a warm interest in L ever since

you told me of her mother's removal. Her tender heart
will be torn with many pangs ; but for such are the
promises. I felt the deep treasure that is contained in
many of them, when the loss of a most tender and re-
vered parent made me one of the fatherless. God be-
came in a peculiar manner my Father then, and so He
will, I am sure, to this dear sufferer. It was a great
blessing that you were permitted to point the dying man

MARY LUXDIE DUNCAN. 221

to his Saviour. May this be your privilege and mine
many times. It fills me with wonder that God con-
descends to employ his feeble children as instruments
of good to others : but He has told us why the treasure
is in earthen vessels. I shall be glad to resume with
you the communion that I never like to have inter-
rupted. It would be pleasant to learn an epistle — shall
it be that to the Colossians ? 1 shall begin on the
evening of Friday, and learn three verses regularly. If
you have another plan, tell me, and I shall adopt it. I
mention Friday, because I have a special love for that
evening, when a party of Christians, though far distant,
meet in spirit to entreat the outpouring of the Spirit on
themselves, the Church, and the world at large. Do
join us, my beloved friend. It is refreshing to me, and
it seems strange to belong to a community like this, of
which you are not one."

Her memory was naturally powerful, and it was her
delight to exercise it by treasuring up the word of life.
While she resided in Edinburgh, when her age emanci-
pated her from appointed tasks, she would, on a Sabbath
evening, after hearing the recitations of the juniors,
request some of them to hear her in turn ; on these
occasions she would repeat long chapters, or, as it might
be, a whole epistle. Her husband and she, together,
committed to memory the epistle to the Ephesians
during the winter they passed at Barnes. Her own
poetical efforts were not usually made with pen in hand,
but remembered, and written at her convenience ; and
during the winter of 1839, when confined to bed, it was
a common morning exercise, that her sister should rend
her a hymn, which, on the second hearing, she could
recite without mistake.

Pages might be occupied with specimens of the easy

222 MEMOIR OF

and natural transition of her mind from earthly things
to the blessed hope which was her stay. We give but
one additional example. In the midst of writing about
health, household affairs, the marriage of a friend, and
such matters, is found this little sentence, which indi-
cates long and familiar reflection on divine things : —
" What a sad world this is, and how unlike the holy
and peaceful home we hope for ! May we all press to-
wards it more diligently, and receive an abundant en-
trance."

To her London School-fellow,

" Barnes, February 28. — We have lately been burn-
ing over a History of the Covenanters, whose awful
sufferings from Prelacy, or rather, perhaps, from Popery
under that name, are still felt keenly by every patriot
heart. Who can conceive the consequences, had James
succeeded in destroying the persecuted Presbyterians,
and, this impediment removed, had ordered his time-
serving bishops to own the holy Pope as their liege lord?
You and I to-day might have been most devoutly bow-
ing to the Virgin, or, feeling it folly, might in heart
have renounced all religion as mummery and supersti-
tion. I wonder if you, or indeed if any but the de-
scendants of these noble martyrs — those who have seen
their wild and lonely tombs, and heard the harrowing
tales of their sufferings, and breathed the same free air
that played around them, as they confessed their con-
stancy in the sight of heaven and earth — can be fired
with the same enthusiasm, and feel the same mingled
pi^y and indignation at those who thirsted for their
blood ? No wonder that we, in Scotland, love our
Church, which was sown among so many tears of our
best and bravest."

To her sister, at the same date, she writes : —

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 223

" I feel very grateful to dear M. A. B. for her kind-

no* to you. She has acted towards you the part of an
elder sister, and I know you return her love with en-
thusiastic affection. Your visit to D hill, too,

must have been very pleasant ; but what shall you do

if S. A. leaves you at Easter ? Take care, my J y,

and do not love this dear friend too much, or on that
very account she may be taken from you. You know
you have always been prone to set up idols in your
affections, and to love one or two objects, not exclusively,
but perhaps so as partly to shut your heart against
others for the time. Take care then, dear, and while
you delight in your friends, thank God for them, and
see in each a new token of his love. Cultivate that
spirit of expansive benevolence which our dear papa
so eminently possessed, and which graces and beautifies
a character more than almost anything else. For Chris-
tian love is 6 the best of the graces/ and makes us most
resemble our blessed Saviour who lived and died on
earth, because his heart was full of love to us.

u I should like to know what Italian, French, and
English books you are reading, what songs singing,
what pieces playing, what flowers drawing — every
thing, in short, that concerns you, and above all, if you
are tasting more of the peace that passeth knowledge.
Do you ever pray for a blessing on W.'s labours, and
on my Sabbath-morning class? I have now about
seventeen young women who take great pains in pre-
paring for me ; but God alone knows the heart. Ah !
I wish they may not only increase in knowledge, but
be savingly converted."

To her Aunts Lnndie.
" I am much interested in my class of young persons.

224 MEMOIR OF

It is most condescending in our gracious God to accept
such instruments as we, to bring souls to himself. Who
could have presumed to think, if He had not declared
it, that sinners should be fellow-workers together with
Christ ? O for a high estimation of such a privilege !

" I am sorry you cannot now ' go up to the temple
to worship ;' but till this blessing is again permitted
you, you will seek and find a rich answer to secret
prayer. I often think of the beautiful prayer occasionally
used by my beloved father, for those who were debarred
from church. I am sure you remember it : — ' Teach
them that Thy presence is not confined to temples
made with hands, but the universe is Thy temple, built
by Thy power, and bright with Thy glory/ What a
sweet and cheering thought ! "

During the course of this spring, her diary contains
allusions to her prospect of becoming a mother, dic-
tated by the same submission, self-diffidence, and con-
fidence in her Saviour, which so long had given their
own peculiar colour to all her views.

Diary. — "January 25. — A few more months and (if
spared till then) a critical time will come, and why
should the husbandman let a barren tree remain in his
vineyard ? The future is in his hands, though hid from
me, and I have not many anxious thoughts about it.
The day shall declare it, and it will be in mercy, whether
for life or death. Yes ; I, a useless branch, can say so,
for / am a branch of the life-giving tree, and shall not
be left to fade. But what could He do, which is not
done for me, and where is the return ? The retrospect
ashames me. How different should I be if I realized
the prospect of shining as a star in the mediatorial
crown. What eagerness for good would there be then !
What prayers for mercy ! What anxiety to i feed many'

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 225

from my lips by the truths the Spirit teaches ! O Lord,
undertake for me ! My spirit has less of solemnity about
it than it used to have, because my times of devotion
are not in perfect solitude, but with my dear husband
by, and I do not feel so much alone with God. .
I like to spend a few minutes in prayer, in the evening,
or at some other hour, but then often the world is in
my heart, and I have little to ask. I wish to walk
nearer to Jesus, and, by my converse, to set heavenly
things before my dear husband, and not to lure his
heart to settle on earth and me. The fear of God does
regulate this little family, but we want more life, more
love. Lord, hear my prayer, and come and save us ! "
" Sabbath, April 16. — All are on their way to church,
and I may not go — I may not join in prayer with God's
people, or listen to my dear husband's voice exhorting
his flock to choose the narrow way. I feared, yet did
not like to think, last Sunday, that it might be long
before I mingled in the services of the sanctuary. I
must bring my mind to be sometimes an exile from the
courts of the temple. But ' the universe is the temple
of my God,' and perhaps I may get nearer to Him
alone, than if I could act as my wishes prompt. He is
merciful in giving me warning of what is coming ; and
my disability to do as I was wont, reminds me that
soon I shall be in pain and in peril, and that, perhaps,
the bed of pain may be the bed of death. My antici-
pations are chiefly of recovery and of hours of happiness
with my most tender husband, and the little one whom
God may give to us. But I would be prepared for
either event ; and were my spirit beaming, as it ought
to be, with my Saviour's love, for what could I long so
ardently, as for a free and quick admission to his own
presence, and to ' Jerusalem, my happy home.' I do

226 MEMOIR OF

not feel afraid to die, but, were death close upon me,
should I not quail ? I will never let go my only hope,
my precious Redeemer, but seek to follow Him more
closely, and shun sin and coldness. A fearful antici-
pation of the future at times shades my spirit ; of pains
such as I never endured ; of new and anxious responsi-
bilities ; but, through all this, grace can and will support
even me, and I will not fear, but pray more. As cares
increase, so will the aid of the Spirit be given me. Be
present in Thy house to-day, in the power of Thy Spirit,
and subdue souls to Thy dear Son."

" April 23. — My class is gone; there were thirteen.
When shall I see that any real good is done ? I must
pray more for them. I have been exhorting them to
try, like good old Berridge, to put the words of Scrip-
ture into the form of supplications, and use them as they
walk by the way. O for the teaching of the Spirit to
make them wise unto salvation ! I painfully feel my
own coldness and deadness, and would fain awake to
newness of life. My God has shut me up alone, while
others meet in his beloved courts. I do love them ! but
is it with the fervent love of earlier days, when the
words of truth were as manna to my soul ? I often look
back nine years to the time when I was first admitted
to the visible Church, and feel tempted to say, ' then it
was better with me than now.' What but the blood of
Jesus can ransom me ? I might have been far advanced
in the Christian race ere now, instead of being the weak
and erring child I am. When I come to die, I shall
not be able to say, like Paul, 'I have fought a good
light,' but through grace I will cling to my Saviour.
O that my dear husband and I lived daily nearer to
Him ! May a blessing be on his preaching to-day ! In
three days I shall have lived twenty-three years. In

MARY LUNDIE DUN< AN. 227

the last, how many mercies has God given me, with
some slight chastisements that came threefold increased,
because I did not cast all my care upon Him, but kept
some of it to carry myself. I have the prospect of in-
troducing a new inhabitant into a world of sin, and, I
trust, an heir of glory to the dawn of an immortal
existence. O may my babe be one of Jesus' lambs !
I scarcely dare form wishes for the future, but, at
present, my mind needs cleansing. I do not feel the
glow of Christian love to all ; my affections are too
much confined to a few objects. I am easily made
impatient, and this was not the case formerly. I want
the charity that thinketh no evil. My thoughts are
too much on self. Alas ! when shall I be like Jesus ?
In heaven ? — Yes ; but the likeness must begin on
earth. 0 that the breath of prayer may be fervent
and unwearied ! "

It is worthy of remark here, that the deadness and
impatience of which she complains, were probably the
result of physical causes. The child of God is often
bowed down, and when he would " go forth, as at other
times," and serve the Lord, he finds that his power is
gone. Perhaps he is disposed to lay heavily to his
charge that which is caused by his infirmity, and feels
as if, like Samson, he has been inveigled into the shear-
ing of his locks by some temporal snare. But the
blessed High Priest, who is touched with the feeling of
his people's infirmities, knoweth, and when they attain
their glorified bodies, they shall know and discriminate
between the backsliding spirit and the tabernacle of
clay. This is one of the innumerable reasons why it
will be better to serve God in heaven than on earth,
that the aspirings of spirit will be no longer in bondage
to the drooping frame. The soul's ethereal communing

228 MEMOIR OF

will no longer be restrained and drawn down by the
earthen vessel in which it is enshrined.

To her Friend near London,

" Barnes, April 27 '. — There was much in your last
letter that comforted and strengthened me. Oh ! I feel
grateful to you when you advise me ; for you understand
and enter into my feelings, and bring to my remem-
brance the sweet and reviving words of eternal truth,
which always bring health and healing to my spirit.
Do not refuse, my dear one, to give me counsel, for it
does help me, and I require all the help I can obtain.
I love to linger on the thought that I have a place in
your heart, and in your prayers, and that when you
draw near to our God, my name is breathed before
Him. May not some sweet glimpses of his love be
given to me in answer to these petitions, by Him who
has said, ' Pray for one another V O that I had more
of the spirit of prayer, and could more freely and
earnestly plead the promises, so boundless and so un-
failing ! I do at times ' roll my burden on the Lord,'
and find peace in doing so ; but too often I turn and
take it up again. Yet my wayward heart is in the
school of Christ, and will be disciplined at last.

" I do not know if I hinted to you in my last the
prospect that lies before me, that of becoming a mother.
Oh, my friend ! what a tide of feelings rushes upon me
as I write ! How great the responsibility of being
entrusted with the care of a young immortal — one who
may be a holy and zealous child of God, or care for
none of these things ! But here, again, the Lord will
lay no duty upon me, but what He will enable me to
discharge. Will you pray much for me, dearest F. ?
You will not know when I am suffering, or what the

HART LUNDIE DUNCAN. 229

issue is at the time. But, oh ! commit me to a God of
compassions wery day, and then you will be able to feel
for me what, I hope, He will enable me to feel for
myself, a sweet confidence that all will be well, Yea :
it must be well ! It would be a mercy to be raised up
again, and restored to my tender husband and the duties
that lie before me. But if I am taken, I know whose
shed blood will gain access for even me. Yes, ' the
Friend that sticketh closer than a brother' will not
desert me then. But washed and cleansed in his blood,
and clothed in his righteousness, I believe that, should
He take me, He will give me a place in his own temple.
It will be the lowest place. It is wonderful indeed that
there should be one of any kind for me. But the ' many
mansions' are for the poor and needy, the sinful and the
helpless ; and. I am of that number. My precious
Saviour died that I might live. O that I could re-
spond to love and mercy so infinite, by the surrender
of my whole self! If I do not give every thought to
Jesus, how can I be sure that I am one of his, when
the universe, were it mine, could not repay the debt I
owe Him ? I cannot help feeling a wish to live, if it be
his will, but not otherwise. I would not change one
circumstance in my lot had I the power ; for He is
wise, and I should be sure to choose what would be
the worst and the most injurious. I know not what
sha^l be on the morrow, but I know in whom I have
believed, and that He will keep that which I have
committed to his charge ; Oh, what an anchor for the
soul is here ! We are far from church, and it is judged
prudent that I should not go ; so I am left alone to
prepare for what is before me in solitude and silence.
It is somewhat trying not to be permitted to unite with
the congregation of the Lord, and not to hear my dear

230 MEMOIR OF

W.'s voice entreating them to cling to the Saviour ;
but you know much more of such privations than I do.
I can still meet my morning class, and feel comfort in
being allowed to say a word in my Saviour's cause.

" I sympathize in your enjoyment of the means of

grace at B n, and hope you may go on in the

strength thus obtained, for many days. It was a high

privilege to attend the ministry of such a man as ,

and I hope he may be long spared to be a shining light.
But is it right for any Christian to work beyond the
strength that has been given him? Did not the six
months of absence from his flock, each as it rolled away,
say to the pastor's heart, that moderation even in labour
is a duty, and that the taper of life would longer shed
its rays on those around, if it were allowed to burn
calmly and steadily, than if exposed to the wasting
winds ? Few err on this side, but surely -holy and
devoted men would do well to remember that they
are stewards of their strength, and would do well to
put it out to the best interest. Will you resume our
valued evening intercourse, beginning in Bogatzky's
Treasury at the portion specified for whatever day it
may be?"

A postscript to this letter, by another hand, an-
nounces that a new object for the exercise of her affec-
tions was bestowed, in the birth of a daughter. From
her letters shortly after, may be gleaned a view of her
sentiments and emotions in regard to this new and
cherished gift.

" Oh, M. A., what a delightful thing it is to have a
baby ! It opens a new, fresh, full fountain in the heart,
and makes it, I think, kinder and more pitiful to every
thing that lives. . . I have been kindly dealt with,
and brought safely out of many dangers. My trust in

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 231

God has, I think, been increased by his goodness to
me at this time, and my baby is the dearest thing you
can imagine. She already notices a great deal, but
does not smile except in sleep. But, oh ! it is dreadful
to hear her cry when she is in pain, as helpless babies
often are. Our dear father, Dr D., is to baptize her
next Sunday ; so you prayed for us on the Avrong day,
love, but it would not be the less listened to."

To a Friend in Kelso.
"Barnes, Jane 4, 1837. — I want to thank you for
your kind letter, and the tokens of remembrance, the
kindness of which I feel very much, and hope you will
indeed give my little Mary Lundie a place in your affec-
tions. I rejoice in the thought that she has so many
praying friends, and I would plead for her the promise
which is unto Christians and their children. She was
baptized yesterday by her dear grandpapa, and the
service was most soothing and strengthening. I hope
strength will be given to us by that good Shepherd to
whom we have devoted her, to train her up for Him.
He loves the lambs of the fold, and surely this little
one will be among those whom He carries in his bosom.
When you remember those hours to which you allude,
in Kelso manse, where you heard from my dear parents
of a Saviour's love, will you let the thought remind
you to pray for their dear little grandchild. No one
can quite understand a mother's feelings till taught by
experience. It seemed like opening a new fountain in
my heart — a love unlike what I feel for any other ;
but not greater than all other love, as I have heard
some mothers say it is. I sleep with baby, and I am
a great deal with her ; and, oh ! I would have my heart
always filled with petitions for her."

232 MEMOIR OF

To her Aunts Lundie.
" July 4. — It grieved me deeply to bear the tidings
of your fall, my beloved aunt. 0 tbat you had my
arm to lean on ! How glad I should be to support and
help you ! But I know who has supported you through ■
this affliction, and made it bear the fruits of peace in
your souls. It is a bright ray in the gloom of sickness
to feel that the Sun of glory has only drawn those clouds
around us for a time, that we may be fitted to receive
a clearer view of his cheering presence ; and even now
I trust his love is filling your hearts, and his light over-
shadowing your abode, more than in more joyous and
prosperous days. May you, my loved and revered
friends, become daily more near to Jesus, and taste in
every thing the expression of his protecting care and
tenderness. I know your hearts were much with us
when our sweet babe was given to us. Much mercy
attended the whole course of events. Mary- Lundie
grows fast. I should like to show you her round cheeks
and arms, and her eyes, which look very sweet when
she favours me with a smile. To-day her papa played
on the flute to watch its effect on her while she lay on
my knee. She looked intently on him for awhile, and
then smiled twice. I hope to introduce her to you soon."

To her Friend near London.
" Barnes, July 29. — My beloved friend, do not think
that I have been so long silent because all my love is
centred in my new and most interesting charge. It is
not so. My heart turns to you, as it was ever wont to
do, with deep and fond affection, and my love for my
sweet babe makes me feel even more the value of your
friendship, because I know that you do and will pray
for her. Oh, my dear F , how my heart longs that

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 233

this little one may be folded with the flock of JeSQS,
the loving Shepherd of helpless little children ; and I
have a cheering hope that so it shall be, for she is a
child of prayer, and our Father is a God of love. I
wish you were here, that I might pour out my heart to
you. It ought to be more filled with gratitude than it
is, for I have been floating on a stream of mercies. I
have been spared to know a mother's happiness, which,
before, I knew nothing of. And well may I seek to
give glory to my Lord, and own his name at all times,
for He has dealt very bountifully with me. Your dear
letter did me good, It came as a voice of love from
afar, sweetly in unison with the song of praise I was
feebly endeavouring to utter, and reminding me of the
heavenly love which makes Christian intercourse so de-
lightful on earth. . . Thank you, my own friend,
for cautioning me against loving my child too well. I
feel the danger, and pray to be kept from it. You say
your sister never thought her babe could die. It
was quite the reverse with me. From the first it
seemed to me that any little accident might snap the
thread of so frail a life, and I wondered wThen I saw^ her
so well, and so quickly growing. Now, I sometimes
fear I count her too much my own. Oh ! pray that my
heart may be full of Christ ; and then nothing will be
an idol"

From this period the writing in the diary becomes
less frequent. Her hands were engaged by her do-
mestic duties ; but her solicitude for advancement in
the divine life grew and strengthened the more, that
under the responsibilities of a teacher of the females
of the parish, of a mistress with respect to the souls
of domestics, and under the drawings of heart for the
soul of her child, her spirit seemed more continually

234 MEMOIR OF

prayerful. When suffering from headaches, so that
she could not herself partake of the refreshment of
the sanctuary, she would still teach her class and
despatch her maids to church ; for their soul's sake,
toiling to nurse her infant, and, with her Bible or
Hymn-book propt open near her, catching, as oppor-
tunity served, a morsel of that divine food after which
her heart longed. Her joyful and thankful notices in
letters, of the commencement of prayer meetings, the
establishment of missionary societies, or of any dawn-
ings of grace in the young persons of her own class or
elsewhere — her glad records of faithful sermons, or of
words of Christian counsel and love dropt by those with
whom she had intercourse — exhibit a heart going out
continually after spiritual improvement, and longing
after the growth of the Redeemer's kingdom. She
loved much, and had the felicity of being much and
tenderly beloved of many, and there was a constant
interchange of love-tokens going on between her and
friends in various situations and stations in society.
Even the gift of a bit of honey-comb from one of her
pupils, was too pleasant to her to be passed unnoticed
in a letter ; and she expresses her wonder that her
efforts to be useful to the girls of her class should all
along be returned by such kindness and love to herself.
" But," she adds, " I desire to be thankful, hoping that
to some of them the word has not been spoken in vain."
In a letter, written before her babe had attained its
eighth week, she says : — " On Saturday morning I had
my class, as I thought I should like to speak to the
girls before the communion. I brought my baby,
dressed in their frock, and told them she was come to .
thank them for it. They could not be satisfied till
every one had held her in her arms ; so, poor little

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 235

she had many transfers. We afterwards read
the parable of the wedding garment, and the pa
in Revelations about the marriage supper of the Lamb."
The minutes of subjects pursued in her class, inci-
dental notices of individuals, of their successful answers,
of any token of improvement, etc., show how judicious
and how hearty she was in her endeavours to do them
good. With a view to aid them in private devotion,
and hereafter to introduce them to social prayer, she
put them upon writing compositions of that description ;
and when any sentence pleased her, it found a place
in the minutes of her class. Thus the new year's prayer
of one girl, the new year's rules of another, etc. etc.,
stand still in her writing, memorials of the loving teacher
and friend who was with them for a season, as well as
a fragment of prayer by one who did not survive to
finish it, concluded with the following affecting memor-
andum : — " ' Accept of my sincere thanks for health
of body and peace of . . ' Here the angel of death
arrested her, and now she sings praises in sweeter tones
in the presence of Him she loves." She also writes, in
reference to this young person, "M. G. communicated
for the second time, December 17 — died January 18
— in hope of glory." In a letter, writing of M. G., that
her disease was fever, she adds, M She has been ill
three- weeks, and I, partly from dilatoriness and partly
from fear of infection, have not gone to see her till
yesterday ; but alas ! she did not open her eyes, or
testify the least intelligence. I believe the dear girl to
be one of those who are gathered in the arms of the
Saviour. There has been a seriousness and earnestness
about her in particular during the past few months,
very encouraging to witness. She has carried on family
worship for her grandmother ; and often in fine morn-

236 MEMOIR OF

ings, early, her neighbours have seen her alone in the
garden with her Bible ; and often in the field her voice
has been raised to reprove wicked words and jesting
in those around her. Her poor granny told W. and
me yesterday, with many tears, that we had made M. a
new woman. O that this bitter sorrow might teach her
ivho it is that changes hearts, by making her own new !
M. G. may recover ; but I greatly fear her sands are
almost run, and she has had no one to care for her soul,
or to speak to her in the language of Zion ; and now, let
me be ever so anxious, it is too late. Oh, mamma, I have
been very wrong ! I hope this may be a lesson to me.
I wish I more fully believed and trusted the promises
in the ninety-first psalm."

If such was her lively interest when tokens of good
appeared, and such her severe rebukes of herself, when
not quite clear that her own actions or motives would
bear to be weighed in the balance of the sanctuary, how
deep was her grief, how mournful her lamentation,
upon any outbreaking of the old leaven in the parish !
Holidays and fair-days, and those occasions when
persons, uniformly correct in habit at other seasons,
strangely think they have got a dispensation for sin,
were days of heaviness to her — days of mourning, as if
her children had fallen into sin, and of much prayer
for restraining grace.

Having poured out her grief on account of some
transgression, the rebuking of which had produced re-
taliation by the enemy's old weapons^— censure and
slander — consolatory advice had been tendered. In
reply she writes : — " I am very much obliged for your
good advice, and hope it may help us to steer our course
so as to give no unnecessary offence. It would require
us to be wise as serpents, and that, I fear, we shall

MART LUNDIE DUNCAN. 237

never be. Bat it is a happiness to suffer for the truth ;

my chief source of sorrow when unpleasant things occur,
is the fear, lest by a want of caution, or by something
wrong in the way of managing, we have caused the
way of truth to be evil spoken of." " These things
make us anxious to let our light shine, that mouths
may gradually be stopped. How difficult it is for a
simple-hearted person to manage with those who are
wise in their own eyes ! Grace could soften them.
"When will it come ? We have need of patience, and
to be always looking to Jesus, our meek and holy
pattern."

11 Wallace appealed to his people on Sunday, on the
use they had made of his ministry. It was very touch-
ing, and went through my heart at least. I could not
but feel as if it was the beginning of a blessing on the
elders' prayer meeting. But when shall the fulness of
it come, and the people be aroused to flee to the city of
refuge ? I am dwelling with great delight on Pike's
Guide to Young Disciples, and think of making it a
text-book for my class. I am not free from headaches.
Last Sabbath afternoon I was quite useless. Oh, if
they would not come on Sunday, how glad I should be !
For when I have them, to keep awake is impossible,
and I just doze the weary time away." At another
time she writes : — " I am not likely to write a very
bright letter, but you will make allowance for my
headache. Oh, if headaches were abolished, I think
half the invalids in the kingdom would be cured!"
Again : — " My head has been better since I wrote.
I feel a sadness at the coming on of winter ; the cold,
the bleak country, the want of improving society, make
me long for some whom I have known and loved, and
who are far away. I must engage in some pursuit that

238 MEMOIR OF

will occupy my mind, for I have a good deal of mere
housekeeping and sewing, and of dancing my little fairy,
who jumps when she is pleased."

To her Friend near London.
" Nov. 2. ... I do not like the idea of a sheet
filled by you being lost, and thankfully own that no
letter of yours comes without reviving my desire to
keep in the safe and narrow way. I count it one of
my chief privileges to be permitted to correspond with

you. Do not frown on me, dearest F , or think that

I flatter you. It is not so. I never dare say the half
of what I feel on this subject. My love for you is very
great, and this probably makes what you say come with
more impression than it might from another quarter ;
but it also pleases me to think that it is in answer to
your prayers for me, that you are permitted to write in
a way that does me good. Is it not cheering to.think,
that while our plans and attempts to glorify God in
winning souls so often fail, if we live in a waiting frame,
we may be made useful when we have not especially
intended it ? Words that we have forgotten, may be
as 'the good seed that took root, and have eternal conse-
quences. Ah, how watchful this should make us over
every word ! Surrounded as we are by those who are
by nature lost, and who, if saved by grace, still have,
like us, a conflict to maintain against powerful foes, we
are under unceasing responsibility to seek their good.
If we forget this, some incautious word, or inconsistent
action, may cast them back, and we may incur the curse
of those ' who make a brother to offend.' This is our
collateral responsibility ; but we must dwell as seeing
Him who ever looks on us, and seek to let his Spirit
breathe on the chords of our hearts, and keep them in

MAKY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 239

tune ; or we cannot teach others to sing the melodies
of heaven. . . . O that, pilgrim-like, I were ever,
staif in hand, journeying on without looking back !
Then, I am sure, I should grow in likeness to God.
It is sad to bear the name of Christian, and to dishonour
Christ by a careless walk. But why should I trouble
you with my complaint, when you are too far off to
understand its source exactly, or to see its actings !
Would that you were near me, my own friend ; to you
I could tell about this deceitful heart better than I could
to almost any other human being. You would help
me to search out its sins, and seek God with me. But
this cannot be, and I must love you at a distance, and
rejoice to know that, in the hour when earth is shut
out, and you are alone with God, I am not forgotten.
It is a sweet thought, and, if not forgotten by you, how
much less by Him who has graven my name on the
palms of his hands. It is this very fact, that He is so
kind and faithful in all his dealings with me, that makes
me wonder so much at my own ingratitude to Him.
I do long sometimes to hear the voices of those I love ;
but it is sin to long for what I have not — sin against
Him who has in perfect wisdom and love disposed my
lot, and given to me, who deserve nothing, all that is
for my good. Do you remember a poem by one whom
I greatly admire, the excellent Herbert, ' Thou shalt
answer, Lord, for me ? ' How lightly his heart rests on
every earthly thing ! How happy was he in his one
satisfactory portion ! It is vain to think that this or
that would add to our happiness ; or that we should
be more holy if such and such were the case. Happi-
ness is in the spirit that dwells in the secret of the
Lord, and holiness springs from the same source. So
I may have both to overflowing, even if the blessings

240 MEMOIR OF

I have, and in which my very soul is bound up, were
withdrawn. Have you much encouragement in your
work ? Ah ! this question tells more than was meant
by it ; for I am too apt to work for encouragement, in-
stead of resigning all into the hand of God, and being
content to be nothing, and let whom He wills be the
instruments, so his work be done. It would be delight-
ful to feel thus, quite renouncing self, and the gratifica-
tion arising from a belief that ice have been useful, and
yet not to relax our exertions. Will you tell me your
thoughts on this subject, for it is one that often dwells
on my mind with a degree of perplexity? It seems
difficult to unite the willingness to see no fruit following
our individual labours, with an earnest desire for the
spread of the Redeemer's kingdom. ... I feel, as
you do, the great importance of a clear declaration of
the blessed doctrines of justification and sanctification.
This must be taught by the Spirit. I feel a strong con-
viction that no ministry can be eminently useful, when
his power is not distinctly owned, dwelt on, and im-
plored. It is the Spirit that quickeneth. May his
power be shed abroad on both pastor and people here
and with you ! "

To her Sister.
"Barnes, Nov. 2, 1836. — I hope, dear, you are in
better spirits than your last letter showed you to be.
It is duty to keep up, and make the best of every thing,
and to try to take an interest in all you have to do.
Never mind being laughed at, rather try to laugh too,
and then you will not find it half so bad. I hope, for
your sake, that dear S. A. does not leave school at
Christmas. There are crosses in every lot, and one
great secret of happiness is to cultivate a cheerful spirit;

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 241

but the chief one is to have much converse with God,
Your present little trials will soon fly away, and then
you will wonder how light they will appear. 1 wish I
wore by you sometimes, to lay your dear head on my
shoulder, and hear all your thoughts and circumstances.
Do you think I could comfort you, my lassie?"

Theyearclosed upon the little Christian family settled
comfortably in the manse, and encircled, for one week,
by dear brothers and cousins from the universities, with
whom, as usual, private spiritual converse and mutual
prayer were cultivated by this Christian sister and friend.

To her Aunts Lundie.

" Dec, 30. — It grieves me to hear that my dear aunt
is yet so little restored to the power of motion ; my hopes
had ran much faster than the reality, and I am greatly
disappointed. I do trust she will not long be detained
from those privileges she so highly values, nor you, my
dear aunt, obliged to go alone. May there be many
happy days yet in store for you, days in which you
may walk to the house of God in company, and return
to converse on the great things that have been showed
you fhere. Meantime, may Jesus, the friend of the
afflicted, overshadow your dwelling with the wings of
his love, and fill you with all joy and peace in believing.
"When. He speaks to the heart, there is less need of hu-
man teachers. Sometimes He removes them far from
us, to teach us to draw instruction directly from him-
self.

" I need not attempt to tell you how much we have
enjoyed this week with the dear young people ; but it
is far too short, and one is grieved that it is impossible
to cut the pinions of time, and detain the enjoyment
that is borne away on the flying hour. They will tell

Q

242 MEMOIR OF

you of us, and describe the house and our employments.
To-day being very fine, we have had a lovely walk to
the top of one of our hills, where there are many
irregular summits, and some lochs lying among them,
wild and treeless. The view of Kinross and Lochleven
is finest from thence, and we enjoyed running down the
declivities all in a body. What a pity that we are so
soon to part ! Your Christmas present reminded us of
the long gone days when we used to hail the arrival of
' aunt's basket ' as one of the brightest events of the
year, to look forward to it for weeks, and find in it
enough to interest our young fancies for weeks more.
Those were happy days — and they are gone. The
beaming smile that sprung to greet our happiness is
gone, and the kind voice is silent that used to melt into
such tones of tenderness when addressing us — favoured
children as we were. But that voice is sweeter now,
and tuned to nobler themes, and oh! blessed. hope, we
shall see the smile again, bright with heavenly joy.
There was something about my beloved father which
I have never seen in any other human being. Can
you, who knew his mind so well, help me to find out
what it was ? There was a humility, a simplicity, a
grace, in the midst of all the power of mind that marked
his conversation and actions. A beautiful tenderness
that sheltered the meanest from a wound, a brilliant wit
— so peculiarly lovely when employed, as it sometimes
was, to avert the danger of dispute. All these were
charming, and yet blended together so as to produce a
character which it would be impossible^*) describe, and
whose resemblance I do not expect ever to see on earth.
I have dwelt long on this dear theme, but not too long,
I know, for you."

This picture of her father, which never faded from

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 243

her view, may be fitly followed by a fragment of poetry
which adds another trait to the delineation — his Sab-
bath-day aspect and converse : —

" A FRAGMENT.

Farewell, ye Sabbaths of my early years !
Your latest comes apace and soon will fly ;
But your blest memory my spirit cheers,
And stiil shall cheer, till my departing sigh.
Sabbaths of Peace ! How happy was your flight,
"When, gladden'd by a father's smiles and love !
So tender when he spake of Heaven's delight,
It seemed a blest reflection from above.'*

A portion of the sentiments committed to the diary
shall wind up the year.

Diary. — "Dec. 10, 1837. — How many mercies have
gone over my head since last I wrote the expression of
my anticipations here ! Do I praise my God by a life
of holiness, remembering that ' thanksgiving is very
good, but thanks-living is far better ? ' Next Sabbath
we hope to encompass the sacred table of Christ ; and I
long to do so with a true heart, having a sweeter taste
of his love, and more lively desire to be with Him, and
more earnest striving to put off the old man, and be one
with Him, than I have known before. In my own
frames I put no confidence, many times they have de-
ceived me ; and ardour, that, at the moment of its
height, seemed as if it would surely rise into a flame
that should not be extinguished till it melted into the
blaze of celestial glory, has faded away, and left me poor,
helpless, cold, and stumbling. But, blessed be my God,
my frames are not my Saviour. He stands firm amid
all the fluctuations of the deceitful heart. He bears
with my infirmities, He pities my weakness, He watches
the feeble spark that seems about to expire, and pours

244 MEMOIR OF

in streams of oil, even his own precious love, so that
it revives again, and shines forth to his praise. I have
been anxiously remembering for some time that Chris-
tians should let their light shine before men ; and that
in our situation, our light, whatever it be, cannot be hid.
If the light in us be darkness, how can we hope to be
made the instrument of enlightening others? If it be
false, polluted with earth, dim and imperfect, it cannot
win men to seek light for themselves. If it be unsteady
and wavering, ready to be blown out by every breeze,
it may be a beacon of warning, but it cannot be alight
in the hand of God to our fellow-sinners, pointing out
the safety and blessedness of Zion's pilgrims. O that
our light were purified, and kept clear and steady !
Then, though feeble, it must be useful in its fleeting
day. What a pity, when our days on earth are so few,
to be content to let any of them pass in dimness ! The
utmost we can do for Christ is small enough.: we need
not make it less. But those cheering words of David
have often rested on my mind : —

'The Lord will light my candle so,
That it shall shine full bright ;
The Lord my God will also make
My darkness to be light.'

In this will I be confident ; and when I find my light
has been misrepresented, and been the unwilling cause
of leading others astray, I will seek unto my God to
make it so bright with his own beams of love, that all
may see that it was lighted by Ilim, and will soon shine
in heaven. Animating hope ! but unlike the reality.
Much is to be done in my soul ere it can be thus. Oh?
my God ! come and work in me by Thy good Spirit,
and make me delight in the great work ; knowing that

MARY LUNDIK DUNCAN. 245

the time is short, the account soon to be given in and
for ever made up. 1 wish all the Church on earth had
their naze so bent on God that their faces might shine
as did the face of Moses on the mount. Ah ! but who
will, like him, be forty days in fasting and prayer, and
close converse with God ! Were there more of this,
the holy name would not be so often evil spoken of
through our inconsistencies.

" Next Sunday, baby's maid is to come, for the first
time, to the table. I have stayed at home to-day that
^she may go to church. I write with my lively babe on
my knee. May I get help to train this sweet gift of
God for himself !"

246 MEMOIR OF

CHAPTER XII.

GROWTH IN LOVE.

It is delightful to observe Mary's advancement in Chris-
tian love, which is so conspicuous as her few years rolled
away. Love is " of all the graces best." Hwjiility in
its exercise is inevitably connected with mournful con-
victions of unworthiness — even Hope, that day-star of
the soul, is not satisfied with the present, it embraces
future bliss ; but Love, in whatever measure" it exists,
is actual enjoyment. Blessed be He who constructed
the human heart ; its capacities for loving are im-
measurable ; its elasticity, its expansive powers, are
commensurate with the objects of attraction. Even in
an evil world, and with a heart fettered by remaining
corruption, and trammelled by its case of clay, its-
capabilities are boundless ; and, instead of being at-
tenuated by expansion, it is consolidated, and becomes
capable of still greater and greater efforts of usefulness,
of self-denial, of tender and watchful observance. Exer-
cised in solitude, its breath is prayer, its thoughts are
sympathy, its devices are usefulness. Exercised in
.society, its track is mercy, its eye-beam is benevolence,
its words are peace. Exercised towards the reconciled
God in Christ Jesus our Righteousness, it is gratitude,
praise, humble adoration, joyful anticipation, peace —

HART LUND1B DUNC ' '24.1

eternal, unconquerable peace — begun below, but haying
its stronghold far above, out of sight of earth.

" The love that leans on a celestial urn,
Scatters a thousand streams,— nor seeks return;
For she doth draw from her own hidden well,
That flows for ever, — and would flow unseen, —
But that the freshening flower and livelier £r
Betray her, hastening' with her God to dwell."

So was it. She was u hastening with her God to
dwell." Many expressions in the diary and letters con-
vey the idea, that her anticipations of an early removal
from this scene had been frequent and strong. Yet it
does not appear that this arose from any conscious in-
firmity ; for her exertions were increased rather than
relaxed. It was her longing to be free from sin, to see
the face of Him whom " having not seen she loved ; "
— it was her consciousness of the ungenial clime that
earth afforded, which led her to be looking out as for
the dawn, and to be asking, with " the Pilgrim/' " How
far from home, O Lord, am I ? " — and which produced
such expressions as that just quoted from her diary,
" that all may see that it was lighted by Him, and will
soon shine in heaven."

To her sister, she writes of her father, on the sixth
anniversary of the day when he was taken from us : —
" I had a quiet and solitary morning on the 16th, re-
calling all the past, and seeking grace for the future.
How sweet is every remembrance of our beloved father !
His tenderness to his children, his compassion for the
sorrowful, his sorrow for the sinful, and his desire to
win them by love — come back in sweet memorial to
my heart, and furnish a model I should love to imitate."
She then adds, — " I hope, dear, you have been able to
attend the ' the preachings' with comfort and profit. Ah,

248 MEMOIR OF

how much too seldom that sweet ordinance comes in
our country ! I, for one, am sure it would quicken me
greatly to have it often ; but the presence of the Master
of the feast is the great matter, and I trust He was made
known to you in the breaking of bread."

To her surviving parent her sympathizing love was
so true, so extensive, so minute, so intelligent, that it
seems a thing alone, in counting up " wilderness mer-
cies." Many children receive parental kindness and
exertion as matters of course — and so they are ; but
Mary counted and dwelt on each new act as a new and
undeserved treasure ; anticipated each meeting as a joy
almost too much for earth, and never, on any parting,
could restrain her tears. The sketch of her faithful
heart would be incomplete, without a glance into that
deep well of love. In reference to the indisposition of
a member of the family, she writes : — " I feel concerned
at what you say of his health ; but, my dearmamma,
I think that, having been long enough in this weary
world to see the fading of those you loved, you are
perhaps more alarmed than the things you have men-
tioned sanction. But be assured that, while I write
this, I am keenly alive to every thing that makes you
anxious, and shall make it matter of prayer, as well as
of the most tender sympathy. I trust, my mother,
there are yet in store for you many days of peace and
happiness here, ere you are called to the blessed land
where grief will be remembered but as a dream of the
night." " Uncle Henry says it is possible you may come
too. Oh, my dear, dear mamma ! I dare hardly think
of it lest you should not. It would be indeed a delight
beyond what I have dared to hope, to see you so soon,
again. If you can co?ne, do write soon, and give me
the happiness of knowing it. You will now, I hope,

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 249

come and see your longing children. It will renew
your youth (at least it does mine) to see your merry
little youngest daughter laughing and springing, and
shaking her sage bit head at you."

"February 27, 1838. — My heart was with you on
Sunday, when I believe you were engaged at the Lord's
Table; and yesterday, when you would be in church,
I read a sermon of J. B. Patterson's on the subject. I
trust you were refreshed and strengthened to go on your
way rejoicing, looking for and hasting to the blessed
time when there shall be no more sickness of heart, but
abounding peace in the presence of Ilim who has re-
deemed us. O that this delightful hope had more effect
on our daily life, making us seek more close and frequent
communion with God, and bringing every thought, and
word, and disposition into subjection to his will ! "

Of her father-in-law she writes : — " I could scarcely
love him more, if he were my very own father. I
feel most tenderly alive to every thing connected with
him. I wish he would write to me twice a year or so."

Few have felt more tenderly, or yet endured more
cheerfully, that which all must feel who love ardently,
and are divided from what they love. The following
extract from a letter, wrritten after parting from her
new-year's party of youthful relatives, is introduced
here rather beyond its date, because it at the same time
expresses her love for them, and something of her delight
in being a mother : —

" Cleish, Jan. 1838. — My dearest E , this is

Wednesday, and though I have survived the departure
of the dear young party, I have felt weary, and my
head has ached ever since ; missing them at every turn,
and remembering twenty things I meant to have said,
but did not. Time flew with such envious speed, that

250 MEMOIR OF

many things were left undone ; it is difficult to appor-
tion every hour aright,

* When all the sands are diamond sparks,
That glitter as they pass.'

Oh ! it is sad to be parted from all one's early circle —
from every face that helped to make childhood happy ;
and this is perhaps more felt in a solitary place than it
might be elsewhere. I want to express my joy that
the painful part of your dear sister's affair is over, and
the happy time is come. She will be astonished at the
degree of her own happiness, I believe, when her little
new one twines himself about her heart with absorbing
power. I long to know how she does feel. With me,
when the shock was over, my predominant emotions
were wonder, and gratitude, and dependence. I felt
completely in the hands of God, and saw his wisdom
and love in events from which I should otherwise have
shrunk. It was a very happy state, and the new foun-
tain of love opened in my heart, seemed to flow out to
every body, as well as to the dear little object of it.
I trust your nephew is one of those little ones
who are precious in the sight of the kind Shepherd.
My brother George is not strong. He had frequent
indisposition while here, and had so many holiday exer-
cises, that it was scarcely holiday at all for him, poor
fellow ! He is a most dear and affectionate brother,
and so considerate and loving that he really is not like
any other youth I ever knew. To be sure I have not
known many as I know him. He used to come to the
piano about nine for his greatest treat, and he is so fond
of music that the simplest little melody is not lost on
him. He said he should not take well with the bache-
lor-hall they keep in Glasgow after this. He is very

M VIJY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 2 f> L

much in earnest about divine things ! Oh ! how I wish
it were possible for me to be near him, and of any com-
fort and use to him ! "

Of her elder brother she wrote : — " We enjoyed the
six days Corie spent with us very much. While I
complained of the shortness of the visit, he said it was
an uncommonly long one for him. He was most kind
and brotherly, and observant in a degree I could not
have expected from one so used to live alone. We had
a little very pleasant conversation on eternal things, and
on Sunday I read him great part of Philip's ' New Song
in Heaven/ which he liked very much."

Though many proofs of her interest in the parish, and
longings for its spiritual welfare, have already appeared,
as the present chapter is devoted to exhibit the expan-
sion of her love, this may be the best place to insert
some other expressions of it. " I have just begun to
distribute tracts, and hope those little silent visitors may
prove messengers of peace to some around us. I have
only undertaken fifteen houses, as my time will hardly
admit of more." " I like the work very much, as it
enables me to speak of eternal things, making an opening
for me. There are in the parish a few drops of blessing,
but oh ! where is the refreshing shower that should
make our wilderness blossom as the rose ? " " My class
is rather in an interesting state at present, at least I hope
so. W. has resumed his for young men, which is well
attended." " I am enjoying Leighton on Peter very
much. How much might we learn if we, like this holy
man, studied the Bible verse by verse, and word by
word, imploring the teaching of the Spirit. His deep
wisdom, and intense enjoyment of Scripture, make me
grieve that I have so little entered into the hidden
meanings there. I hope I shall learn a salutary lesson

252 MEMOIR OF

from this book. It is a great help to me in instructing
my class."

Of an aged woman she writes to her friend near Lon-
don : — " I have both hope and fear for her. She has
had many sorrows, but never was so broken down
as by the last blow. Yet I fear she may drive away
reflection by bodily exertion. She is still bearing the
burden and heat of the day, though with her it is even-
ing time. Oh ! may it soon be light ! Will you,
dearest, and any other Christian friend that you can

ask, help me to pray for poor old P ? She can have

but short time to stay ; and oh ! how awful will be her
account, if the earnest entreaties and lovely example
which were set before her, and her present sorrow
pass, without being effectual means of bringing her to
Christ!"

"July 16. — Typhus fever is still lingering among us.
One mother of five children has died of it, and now the
father and eldest girl are both ill. Woe is me for the
little ones ! Another Keltie man has it, and yesterday
one of my girls was absent from class because her
mother has been seized. O that the voice of the Lord
might be heard in the awakening of dead souls by
this visitation ! "

" Cleisk, Sept. — We have still a number of cases of
typhus fever at Keltie, principally among children. It
has lingered long among us. O that it might act as a
warning voice! W. has just established a missionary
society, into which I hope the people will heartily
enter."

" Oct. 1. — We have had very fine weather for a week,
and our people are rejoicing that harvest, so long re-
tarded by rain and cold, has come at last under such
bright auspices. We long to see them giving heartfelt

MAKY LINDIE DUNCAN. 253

thanks for this blessing ; and, while they throng the
fields with busy cheerful looks, we say, ' O that men
would praise the Lord for his goodness ! ' He appeared
in the early season to teach us by judgment, and now
that it is turned into great mercy, shall we not see the
hand that has blessed us P It is sad to think there be
few that fear the Lord, and yet I do trust there are many
hidden ones of whom we know not, and who shall be
owned at last as ransomed. Shall we unite to pray
that such may be strengthened and enabled to take the
field as good soldiers of Christ, that so the Church may
be strengthened, and the number of those increased who
are earnest and courageous in their endeavours to
augment the number of her sons ? "

At the time of the summer communion this year,
w7hen her health was in so delicate a state, that her own
attendance on the services must have exerted all her
powers, she writes: — M We had a comfortable time at
the communion. I liked Mr MkCheyne, who preached
on ' His commandments are not grievous/ drawing a
beautiful contrast between fear and love, and the kinds
of obedience they produced. As there was evening
sermon on the Sunday, and an interval, I was led to
ask many to come in and get refreshment, and I think
we were about thirty-four in all — parlour, study, and
kitchen, being well filled. I felt sorry it was impossible
to ask them all."

Almost every letter quoted has exhibited her pure
experience of the pleasures of friendship. To its pains
also the was no stranger. The "rejoicing and weeping
sympathies'' were with her as an ever flowing fountain.
It were unwise to number minutely the associates in
whose society she was refreshed in her own neighbour-
hood. But of all their kindness she had a sweet and

254 MEMOIR OF

grateful sense ; and in all their intercourse felt herself
the party obliged and benefited. But as her pilgrim
heart has ever turned towards her heavenly home, it
was the one or two whose visits were taken advantage
of, to unite in seeking the footstool of mercy, whose
society was prized, and whose return was coveted most
earnestly. We shall give scanty extracts from letters
to friends in various positions, which exemplify the
fulness of her love, and the truth of her sympathy.

To a Friend on her Family quitting and selling the

Family Seat,
" April 1838. — Since receiving your letter, I have
had my thoughts much filled with what you tell me,
and grieve with you in the changes that are taking
place, though I am sure you will have peace in the
sacrifice. I know your bitter feelings, love, in separat-
ing from the wild wood walks, and green fields,, and all
the host of sweet associations that are coeval with life
itself. All the summer rambles, all the evenings of
peace in scenes so beautiful and so beloved are past,
and you scarcely dare to hope that another spot on
earth will entwine itself about your heart as this dear
home of childhood has done. I can enter into your
every feeling on the subject with the painful correct-
ness of one who has felt the like trial in all its heavi-
ness, for C cannot be more dear to you than my

beautiful home among woods and rivers was to me.
I was early called to leave it, when every tree seemed
a friend that could enter into my sorrow, and every
golden ripple of the Tweed spoke to my heart of him
who loved to watch its play ; but the great sorrow was
so overwhelming as to make this seem small indeed.
Your beloved parents are with you still, and the pain

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 255

of parting with the place you love is all you are called
to feel. How small compared with the other! I hope
it may be blessed in detaching your heart from earth,
and fixing its highest hopes on the eternal city. These
nests we build for ourselves below, sometimes delay
our heavenward flight ; and then in mercy they are de-
stroyed, that we may fix our eyes there, and exert every
power to win the desired country."

To her earliest Correspondent and ever-beloved Cousin.

" Many a time when I am sitting alone in this room,
with my books or work, I long to see you, and to hear
the sound of your voice again, and wonder why it is
that those who love each other should be so completely
separated. What a great obstacle is a small tract of
country ! Had I the wings of that humble bird, the
carrier-pigeon, I should be with you in an hour or two,
and yet all my thoughts, recollections, and affections —
powers much superior to that of flying — will not bring
me to you. Well, there must be a good reason for it,
or He who careth for the little birds would have made
the gratification of our wishes easier. . . . We are
enjoying Melville's sermons, which give one some new
ideas, and throw light on some passages. I trust your
mind, my dearest cousin, is resting in perfect peace on
Jesus,, our sure refuge."

The announcement of a projected visit from her
London school-fellow produced a flood of joy. We
quote a small portion of her letter : —

" Last night, my beloved M , your letter was put

into my hands, and it made me so happy that I would
have answered it instantly, but that I was obliged to
finish a piece of work. So I got rid of my superfluous
effervescence, by committing to memory, while I sewred,

256 MEMOIR OF

a long passage from my favourite Keble. Are you
really coming to us at last, my own dear friend ? Shall
I have the long-wished-for joy of welcoming you here,
and of telling you how much the seven years .that have
intervened since we met have endeared you to me ?
. As for me, I know that in many things you will
be disappointed, for I am sadly disappointed in myself.
But I know, too, my kind friend, that you will love me
still, and I do not desire that you should think too well

of me. . . Oh, M , my heart is full ! To think

that we are to meet again after the changes of seven
years have gone over us — after the receipt of so many
mercies, and so much discipline — is at once joyful and
solemn. May it be to the glory of our great Father ! "

To a friend who had formed a very happy matrimonial
engagement, she wrote with the lively sympathy and the
meekness of wisdom which experience had taught : —

" Often, my M , I think of you, and of your hap-
piness. Perhaps few periods of your life will be brighter
than the present. You are still with your dear parent,
from whom, even in the midst of joy, it will be sorrow
to part ; and you have the devoted affection of one who
promises to watch over your future years, and to be the
friend to whom, of all on earth, you can best open your
heart, and from whom you will receive never-failing
sympathy, and counsel, and love. There is, also, a
degree of excitement produced by the bright visitant
hope, who hovers over you, and bids you look upon a
sunny future ; and though in this excitement there may
be some illusion, I think we shall agree that it is de-
lightful. Marriage, with all its blessings, brings cares,
and some sorrows and trials, too, dearest, which you
know not yet ; and it is well, or we should be too much
bound to a world that is but a pilgrimage, and forget

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 257

the lovely land where pilgrims rest. Let us at all times
keep that in view, and strive to come nearer to it, and
the things of earth will not have power to exalt or cast
us down unduly. . . It must be difficult, and require
a good deal of resolution, to prevent too much time
being occupied both in expecting and receiving a guest
whose residence affords him every facility for coming.
There is danger of being too much engrossed, and living
in a sort of dream ; but the safe and only remedy for
this is to seek much communion with God, and to do
each duty as it arises with stedfast purpose, without ad-
mitting any of the numerous excuses that so obligingly
offer themselves the instant their services appear likely
to be accepted."

To her Friend near London.
"March 1838. ... I know that the longest
silence will not make you cease to remember me in the
way I love best to be remembered — at the throne of
grace. There you breathe my name, where no sincere
prayer is disregarded, and entreat for my soul, as well
as for your own, the constant * sprinkling of the blood
of Jesus,' which alone can wash us from daily pollution.
Continue thus to pray for me, my own sweet friend,
and I will try to stir up my poor cold heart to more
abundant supplications for you ; and then how happily
shall we meet when mortality is swallowed up of life,
and those who have stayed up each other's footsteps in
the wilderness shall rejoice together, clothed in ever-
lasting strength in the new Jerusalem ! Happy place !
Happy period ! There shall be no more coldness, no
more looking back to Sodom, and longing for its deceit-
ful pleasures, but all the powers of the soul concen-
trated in intensest love to Him, of whose glory and

258 MEMOIR OF

excellence we shall find that i the half hath not been told
us.' Does not every thing seemed tinged with redeeming
love when we think of these things f The placid skies,
the quiet earth, health, friends, and even the frequent
crosses and disappointments that chequer our way, all
seem what indeed they are, blessings from the hand
of Him who counted not his life dear for our salvation.
. . . The greater part of our people are four miles
distant, and in the snow-storm which has continued for
nine weeks, they have been unable to attend church,
and their pastor has been able only once to get through
to them, so that the people have been as sheep without
a shepherd, so far as an earthly one is concerned. But
we must be content to leave them to the care of God,
assured that He loves them better than we do. I am
not so anxious for those who are his already, as for
the poor wanderers who refuse to hear his voice. Time
and hope fly fast, and whither are they going? But
such thoughts as these are useful in one way. They
quicken prayer, and He to whom we pray, could, by
one thought driven in upon the conscience, do more for
them than all the exhortations and entreaties we could
offer in the course of years. It is a difficult, but a most
essential lesson, that man can do nothing — God all."

To the Same.
" Cleisk, August 1838. ... My own F ,

we are united by a bond less perishable than that which
cements earthly friendships, and it is one of my sweetest
pleasures to think that I have a friend by whom I
venture to hope I am daily remembered at the mercy-
seat. Much do I require — and deeply, deeply do I
prize — such remembrance. So many things demand
my constant thought and attention, that I feel in great

MA11Y LUNDIE DUNCAN. 259

danger of being drawn away from the secret place where
prayer is made and heard. Perhaps something darts
into my mind that must be done — a direction to give,
or messages to send, or my little darling cries, and I
cannot help running to the nursery to take her, fearful
that her attendant is mismanaging her temper. Can
you, my dear friend, with all the quietness you enjoy,
enter into this ? You are sheltered in the bosom of a
large family, while I am obliged to think, and plan,
and act continually; and housekeeping requires a good
deal of thought in the country, far from shops, and with
out-door concerns as well as those within. All this
may show you howr much I require your prayers. O
do not cease to entreat a blessing for me and mine, even
the blessing of Him who dwelt in the bush ! . . .
Have you had converse with many pious friends, who
have lent you a helping hand on your journey? This
is a refreshment for which I often long, both for my
dear husband and myself; but I hope our Father is
teaching us by the — in this respect — almost solitary
situation in which we are placed, to say, 'All my
springs are in Thee.9 My nature is to lean too much to
earthly aid, counsel, and teaching, and of this I see I
must be broken ; and oh that I could feel how much
sweeter it is to be taught by my Father in heaven,
than through any earthly medium ! . . . Mary ran
out of her maid's arms ten days ago. It was her first
attempt to walk alone, and I could not have imagined
how very joyful the sight would be. O to be enabled
to train up this treasured one for God, to see her walk-
ing in the safe and pleasant way to Zion, and, from
infancy, a lamb resting in her Shepherd's arms ! Do
give this dear one a frequent place in your prayers."
The above reference to housekeeping cares, and their

260 MEMOIR OF

disturbing effect on her higher pursuits, brings to mind
the unflinching assiduity with which she pursued her
domestic arrangements, never excusing herself on the
score of illness, and even taking charge of out-door
concerns, when she found that they would be neglected
if she did not. Some persons have a genius for manag-
ing ; they are in their element when the gardener, and
the ploughman, and the cook, and the house-maid, are
all waiting their instructions. It required but to see .
Mary, and hear her gentle melodious tones, to be aware
that this element was not hers. Mental cultivation, the
muse, converse with the intelligent, >vorks of taste, and
acts of benevolence — these were her elements. But
while all saw her apply herself strenuously to the occu-
pations that she loved not, no one ever heard her com-
plain, except from the embarrassment of mind which
threatened to impede her spiritual progress.

Her method of receiving rebuke is scarcely known,
for few have lived and given so little occasion for it.
But one example exists, which bears so much the mark
of Christian meekness, and desire to conquer every evil,
that it must not be passed over. She had been much
hurried in providing for the wants of her household,
while on a brief visit to Edinburgh, in the summer, and
was in that condition which reduces the meek and
placid frequently to a state of irritability. Some token
of this state of things, so slight, that itself and the re-
buke it produced had both passed from the memory of
the reprover, was thus noticed by herself, in writing,
after she had returned home : —

" Your remark, on Thursday, about my impatience,
my dear mother, I hope is doing me good. I did not
answer, but it sunk deep, and has shown me to myself
in some degree. I desire to watch against it, and to

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 2G1

cultivate a meek and quiet spirit ; and oh ! when it
overtakes me, may it humble me, and lead me to
prayer ! My error has been too great confidence in the
equality of my temper ; and therefore, being off the
watch-tower, it is not wonderful that I have been sur-
prised. Care, responsibility, and other causes, have
helped to produce the same effect ; but I hope I shall
receive ' help from the sanctuary ' to overcome it. It
is a grief to me to think that I may have spoken hasty
words. Will you tell me that I am forgiven ? "

Another extract from a letter to that highly esteemed
friend, whose image dwelt in her admiring affection,
and whose Christian fellowship and prayers quickened
her devotion, and cheered her confidence, forms a con-
clusive evidence of the growth of love, both human and
divine, in her heart.

To her Friend near London.
" Oct. 1, 1838. . . . However I am occupied,
my heart is never so much so as to trench on the por-
tion of it that has long been yours. How refreshing it
would be to see you again ! The dear form that is as
distinct in my mind, as if I had parted from you but
yesterday, and the voice that has so often spoken to me
from afar, assisting me onward when weary, and arous-
ing me when my course has become slow and spiritless —
that voice I still hear from time to time, and enjoy it
as much as absence and distance will permit ; and this is
one of the blessings for which I thank the Giver of all
good. I long to profit by its admonitions, and being
thus reminded of my union with all the family of
Christ scattered abroad on the earth, to become more
like them, and grow in all that characterizes them, and
fits them for his own presence above.

262 MEMOIR OF

" I can most deeply sympathize in what you say of
temptation to lifelessness in closet duties, want of
warmth and vigour in approaching God, and depend-
ence on outward help for reviving the spirituality of
the soul. Alas ! how often have I to mourn these
things ! I find that when I am hurried in closet duties,
all other things droop and languish, and the tares
spring up thick and fast where the heavenly husband-
man had planted wheat. Then I seem to have fewer •
wants, and less to ask for. The world looks larger and
more important, and the bright light that cheered Pil-
grim at the end of the narrow way, grows pale and
dim. . . I sometimes long for a little of the inter-
course I used to find so reviving in former times,
and think it would quicken me greatly ; but had my
heavenly Father seen this good for me, it would
not have been denied me. Therefore, I must beware
how I charge my coldness on circumstances; such ex-
cuses do not stand before one season of self-examination,
much less will they be availing at the awful bar, where,
under the all-searching eye, we shall be unable to see
things but in their true light. Ah ! how unduly do I

estimate many things ! Sometimes, dear F , I

almost fear to tell you, and yet God knows it all.
Daily remember me when you enter into your closet,
my beloved one, and quicken me to dwell more in mine,
by telling me of the happiness you are sometimes per-
mitted to enjoy, and of your struggles to obtain it when
it is withdrawn. I know a time of quietness must
come ere long, when I shall be unable to engage in
active duties, and when, if my dear mamma can come
to me, I shall be relieved from anxiety — and I trust
this may be a time of love, and that my soul may be
strengthened thereby, and greatly drawn to my Saviour ;

MARY LUNDIE DUNXAN. 203

but I long to be nearer Him now, to make his law
my delight, and to listen for the whispers of his voice.
O that I could live in closer union with Christ now,
and read my title more clearly to the holy mansions
prepared for the faithful followers of Jesus, without a
doubt, or a wish for an hour of delay. His grace is
sufficient for me, and I know when I feel a lack of any
thing, it is because my own heart cannot receive what
He is ever willing to impart. But in all times, if He
but permit me to cling to Him, I cannot perish. Oh !
is it not cheering, when every other enjoyment is low,
and faith is weak and trembling, to return to this, and
to resolve that, let the waves swell to their utmost
height, still we will cling to Jesus, and, while we are
all worthless and unclean, present Him his own spot-
less righteousness as our plea of approach, and thus He
cannot, and will not reject us ? There is no such friend
as Jesus. The more worthless we feel ourselves to be,
the more He adorns us with his pure robe ; the more
feeble and unable to cling, the more He helps our in-
firmities, and binds us to Himself, so that our weakness
becomes the cause of an increase of strength ; and when
we would leave Him, attracted by some fair and deceit-
ful bait, He speaks to us in the tones of pitying love :
— ' How shall I give thee up, Ephraim ? How shall I
make thee as Admah ? How shall I set thee as Zeboim I '
Sweet words ! often have they recalled the wanderer,
and made him come with weeping and with supplica-
tions to the foot of the cross. There let us often meet,
my own friend, and so shall our faith be strengthened,
and we shall gain a nearer sight of the land where the
cross is exchanged for a crown, and faint glimpses of
our Saviour's beauty for his immediate presence,
without one shade of sin to hide Him from us.

264 MEMOIR OF

" I have been enjoying Blunt's Lectures on the
Epistles to the Seven Churches of Asia. How much
is to be learned from that portion of Scripture ! how-
plain are the warnings, how kind the invitations, and
of what boundless extent the kingly promises ! "

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 265

CHAPTER XIII.

THE MUSE RECALLED — A SON GIVEN TWO BROTHERS

WITHDRAWN.

The poetical efforts, which in early youth were nu-
merous, became restrained during the first period of
womanhood. In a letter not now within reach, she
explains the reason : — Miss Isa. Gordon, who had
observed the cast of her mind with intelligence and
solicitude, far from uniting her voice to that of the
friends who commended her poetry, and applauded
her pursuit of it, " unstrung her lyre," as she said, by
judicious criticism, and cautions against dwelling too
much in the region of fancy, and consuming time and
talents which ought to be employed in more substantial
acquirements. It was not till her country residence
left a little leisure, which in other circumstances might
have been enlivened by society, that she seemed again
to replace the chords of her lyre, and to touch them
frequently in varied tones. We cannot fail to remark
that, however she delighted in inviting her friends to
ascend Benarty, and however zealously she toiled to the
rugged summit of Dumglow — however she rejoiced,
from these airy heights, to explore the Grampians on
the horizon line, or the lofty Lomonds, with the placid
Lochleven sleeping at their feet, with its isle and its
ruin, fraught with recollections of the unhappy Mary
Stuart — and however much she was familiarized with

266 MEMOIR OF

those scenes which had become associated with many
of her heart's best sentiments — yet, if the muse was to
be recalled, if the spirit of poetry was to be evoked, it
wras to " Tweed's familiar shore," to the genius of her
father, and the realm of imagination, dedicated in the
hours and scenes of childhood, that her spirit turned.

In the summer of this year, wre find a poem, too
long for complete insertion, a portion of which shall be
presented.

" THE MUSE RECALLED.

Full many a toilsome day has past,
And many a cloud my sky o'ercast,

Since those bright hours went by ;
"When listening nature's voice was mute,
And echo heard the breathing lute,

And murmur'd in reply.

Yet 'mid the tasks that life engage,
The cares that wait on riper age,

And time and spirit fill,
Back to the past my feelings tend,
And thou, the muse, my childhood's friend,

I fondly love thee still.

Say, for thy child — a wanderer long
From all the lovely realms of song —

Wilt thou again appear ?
Exiled from Tweed's familiar shore,
From joys that can be mine no more,

Wilt thou my spirit cheer ?

Strike thy sweet lyre, and let the strain
Revisit Judah's mourning plain,

And Jordon's sacred wave ;
The stately hills, with cedar crown'd,
The fallen shrines, with roses bound,

And Salem's mouldering grave.

Then of that better Salem sing,
Where holy joys perennial spring —

The city paved with love;
Where never day is closed in night,
Nor cloud obscures the holy light

That fills the land above.

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 267

Visit the fields where David stray'd,
Loading his flock in palmy shade,

And hymning praise on high ;
And learn in anthems clear to sing
That nobler, meeker Shepherd King,

Who for his sheep could die."

At the close of this year, she was again expecting
to add another member to the large family on earth.
Solemn are the sentiments which press on the heart of
a Christian parent at such a prospect. " Yesterday
that child was nothing ; but when will it cease to be ?
Never ! Immortality is written upon it, and the in-
scription is indelible, for it was traced by the finger of
God. The mind has but begun its play ; its instincts
and its faculties but now move with incipient life. Even
dull and worthless matter is of older date, ' Of old didst
Thou lay the foundations of the earth.' Ages of its
history had passed before it was said of him, ' A child
is born into the world.' History will continue its annals,
matter its combinations, the heavens their course ; but
he shall survive them all ! ! " x

With such thoughts of the birth of an immortal being,
she besought the aid of supplication for her increasing
objects of solicitude, on the part of her friend ; at the
same time, steadily considering the probability that this
period might form the termination of her pilgrimage.

To her Friend near London.
"Dec. 28. 1838. — I commit you to the tender mercy
of Him who never forsakes his own, believing that He
will surely order all things concerning you for good.
Ah ! how much I should value one hour's converse
with you, ere my hour of trial comes ! I feel as if it

1 Rev. R. Watson.

268 MEMOIR OF

would tend to strengthen my faith and courage, and be
unspeakably refreshing. But you would refer me to
the only quarter ? whence cometh my help,' and tell me
to give greater diligence to seek it there. I have been
trying to look straight to Him, and to keep in their own
place those subordinate and human helps, to which my
heart is so prone to cling. These are precious, and oh !
how essential to our weakness ! but it is He who gives
them ; they are but an expression of his love — a love
which is unfathomable and unwearied, and which will
support to the uttermost those who are stayed on it. I
wish I could realize it more ; keenly alive, as we are,
to the affection of friends, to a look or word of kind-
ness, or to an act of self-denying love from them, how
is it that the love of God in Christ is so slow to win its
way to our souls? It is expressed in all that is around
us, even in vexation, anxiety, sickness, or pain, which
are sure tokens that He does not forget us, but deals
with us as with sons. And would it not make these
things easy to endure, could we, at the tune of suffering
them, view them in connection with that love, ever
strengthening our minds by the remembrance of Him
who endured all kinds of trials in their heaviest forms,
because He loved us ? It is ease and rest indeed to cast
our burden upon Him, and never does He refuse to bear

it for us. I hope, dearest F , that you are praying

for me, and that you will do so yet more and more.
Remember as my ties to life multiply, I have more need
for your prayers on my own behalf and theirs. Have
you not prayed often for my dear little Mary, that she
may be a lamb of the fold, precious in the sight of the
tender Shepherd ? And will you not abound in sup-
plications for all of us, that we may be thoroughly
washed, and made meet for the land where all is purity,

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 2 GO

and nothing that is unholy can enter ? Now, dearest

F , fare well. Whether life or death be appointed,

may we soon meet where there is no parting, and no
sin ! "

Diary. — " Dec. 1838. — I have the near prospect of
being mother of a second babe. I pray for grace to
bear my trial as a child of God, in patience and willing-
ness to suffer according to his will. I was rebellious
the last time, and bore the pain, not because God sent
it, but because I could not escape it. May it be different
now !

* His love in time past forbids me to think
He'll leave me at last in peril to sink.'

' When I pass through the waters, He will be with me.'
His exceeding great and precious promises encourage
me to hope and enable me to cling, though weaker than
a child, to the cross, which rises, as my prop and stay,
amid these deep waters. If it should be the will of .
God that these should prove for me the waters of the
Jordan, still He has said, ' I will never leave nor forsake
thee.' Often my faithless heart has forsaken Him —
been occupied with creature affections, with worldly
cares, or with the too engrossing pleasures of imagina-
tion, or sloth has prevailed and made me forget that
the time is short wherein I may do my Master's work.
I have but a life of leaves with very little fruit, and yet
my Saviour would willingly work in me the same fair
fruits that have adorned his most favourite children.
Shall He have to say to me, i and thou wouldst not ? '
Beloved Saviour, I entreat Thee to mould my spirit as
entirely to Thy pleasure as Thou didst my frame at first.
Let me feel Thee near, and be Thou to me the chief
among ten thousand. When I see Thee face to face,
T shall love Thee as I ought, and rejoice, being satisfied

270 MEMOIR OF

with Thy likeness. Till then, O for a more prayerful
spirit, and more zeal to work — more grace in my heart,
to hallow my converse with ! "

Here terminates the diary. Her designs are recorded
in his presence, " who formed the wind and knoweth
man's thought." She is satisfied, serving Him as she
ought, and seeing his perfect likeness. And the little
book — the sacredly hoarded diary ! — it is vain to search
it3 remaining unstained leaves ; not a comma is added.

Her son was born on the 7th January 1839, the day
of the memorable hurricane. Her spirits were tranquil
and patient, and her grateful love was like a flood that
would overflow its banks during her recovery. Her
mind was active beyond her strength, so that it was
sometimes necessary to decline reading to her ; and her
happy nurses denied themselves, in trying to avoid ex-
citing her too much. They were led to smile, however,
at their futile caution, on discovering that, instead of
resting and " thinking of nothing," she had woven a
poem of many stanzas, from a story which was read to
her from Todd's Sabbath-School Teacher. The story
was that of a German family settled in Pennsylvania,
whose dwelling was burned during the war of 1754,
when several members of the family were slain. One
girl, " Regina," was carried captive, and dwelt, for ten
long years, in bondage with a tribe of Indians. She
preserved in memory, the while, the texts of Scripture
which her parents had taught her, and one hymn which
she often repeated or sung. At length an English
officer reached the place of their captivity, and rescued
upwards of four hundred white captives. He brought
them to Carlisle, and invited all parents who had lost
children to claim their lost. The mother of Regina
went up and down gazing at the captives and weeping,

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 271

unable to discover her own ; at length she raised the
hymn which she used to sing with her children.
Scarcely had she sung two lines, when Regina rushed
from the crowd, singing it also, and threw herself into
her mother's arms.

From this anecdote, versified, we select a few stanzas.
They were dictated to, and written by, her sister, by
the side of her couch, sometimes as many as five or six
at once.

■ There are many voices on the gale,
There are wild strange forms in the peopled vale ;
They are captives from Indian bondage led,
"Whom friends have forgot, or mourn'd as dead;
And a throng', with their hopes to frenzy tossM,
Have come to search for their loved and lost.
Ah ! many a heart that beat high that morn,
From the search at night must shrink forlorn.

And one with sad and wistful gaze
Is passing slow through the crowded maze ;
But to blooming woman her child is sprung,
And with Indian garb and Indian tongue
She cannot trace her, though standing nigh.
Must they part, unknown to live — to die ?
No ! God is faithful, the promise sweet
To those who trust it, and they shall meet.

At length was a thought by heaven inspired —
With sudden hope is her wan cheek fired ;
' She raises the hymn of melody

She sung with her babes in years gone by.
The lost one hears— 'tis the well-known strain
That has soothed her oft in her lone heart's pain ;
She lists, she trembles with glad surprise,
To her mother's bosom Regina flies.

That mother had laid her babes to rest,
In their earliest hours, on the Saviour's breast :
She had sown good seed and had fearM it dead,
But the Lord of the harvest his sunshine shed,

272 MEMOIR OF

And one of her lost was restored again,
By the mem'ry of Zion's sacred strain :
How high shall their grateful praises swell,
When to earth and time they have bid farewell !"

January 1839.

A letter to her London school-fellow will relate, in
her own manner, the furnace of trial, both of the heart
and the weary frame, in which it pleased her heavenly
Father to place her during the winter months. It is
the more important to exhibit this, because her consti-
tution never overcame the shock it then received, and
because her expectation of temporal rest, though never
lively, was so much weakened, that her pilgrim staff
was assumed with a more resolute hand, and she ad-
dressed herself more determinedly to the simple per-
formance of duty, feeling all things vain that had no
spiritual bearing, and " looking for, and hasting unto,
the coming of the Lord."

" Cleish, February 27, 1839. . , . This has been
to me a winter of many events, many anxieties, and
constant occupation. How it would have cheered me
sometimes, when my heart was overwhelmed, could I
have poured it out to you, and been pointed by you to
the consolations which / ever found sweet, but which
were sometimes obscured by sufferings of various kinds.
I must try to give you a history of the winter — scenes
from real life, dearest, while you are enjoying life's
brightest dream. . . . When I was weary, and
not able to do much, my dear little sister was most
helpful, as well as kind and cheering ; and, after
mamma joined us, we had a fortnight of quiet enjoy-
ment before our troubles began. Ah, M dear, it

is a blessing to have a mother ; no words can express
what mine has done for me, all my life through !

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 273

" At the close of the year Cornelius came to pass a
few days with us, when he was seized with the most
serious illness he had ever known. But our God was
merciful to us, and he recovered. The 6th of January
was a Sabbath, and I read to my invalid brother, while
the family were at church. That night the wind blew
a hurricane, and the snow fell thick and fast, and that
was the night selected for my little Harry to come and
make trial of the world, and to bring people from their
warm repose to succour him and his poor mamma. I did
not regain strength fast, nor, indeed, do I feel by any
means strong yet. I had some pleasant hours when on
the bed of sickness : many sweet promises were brought
to my mind, and I felt the richness and complete efficacy
of the divine word, as well as its unchangeable truth.
There is sometimes great enjoyment and profit in being
taken aside for a season from the world and its daily
round of duties and cares, and laid in stillness and
weakness to remember Him whose sufferings purchased
all our blessings. I passed some weary nights of fever-
ish tossings, but sought to follow the example of the
sweet singer of Israel, and meditate on my Saviour in the
night watches. When baby was a week old, my poor
little Mary became ill. She endured great pain, and
screamed at times from terror of necessary remedies,
which' was painful to everyone, and as much as my nerves
could well endure. She was very feverish, etc. . . .

"Before she recovered, mamma left us. It was
hard to part with her and resume housekeeping, while
scarcely able ; but this would have been little, if Mary
had been well. She became worse, and for one day I
thought the Friend of little children was going to call

her to a better world. Oh, my M , you will never

understand the agony of such a day, unless you are some

s

274 MEMOIR OF

time a mother. But, though tried, we were spared ; the
rod was raised over us, and then graciously withdrawn.
Medical treatment was made the means of restoring our
darling to health ; and now, though she cannot go out,
she keeps us lively with her prattle. I live a good deal
in the nursery now ; and, when my babes are well, it
is a happy life. While in the midst of all this sickness,
the cook burnt her foot, and was incapacitated ; so that
I have had my hands and heart full this winter. My
sister was unexpectedly called from me, to go home
with George, the beloved, who is ill. They hid it from
us, because we had already so much to do and bear.
His medical advisers have prescribed an immediate
change to a warmer climate, and have consented to his
going to Australia with his brother, where the climate
is delightful. Oh, may it be blessed to his restoration !
Oh, it is sad to part with two dear brothers, to the dis-
tance of half the globe, and one of them an invalid !
The God of their fathers will be their guide. George
writes in a sweet frame of mind, seriously desiring to
glorify God in every clime and situation. I, alas ! shall
not see my brother ere he leaves Britain."

To her Sister.
" Cleish Manse, Feb. 26, 1839. . . Yesterday was
bright and fair, and we rejoiced for the sake of you who
were travellers. I hope dearest George is not the worse
for his long weary day's work. Now, it is pleasant to
think of him in the peaceful shelter of Ruth well for a
time, cared for by his own mother and other dear ones.
Is George in good heart about his journey ? Tell me
how he lives, and if he is allowed to go out, or restricted
to the house, and all about him. Thank him for his
kind letter to me, and ask him to write me more if he

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 275

can do so without fatigue. Your last account of him
has made me very sad. I wish he were fairly out of
this isle of mists. . .

" We are going on quietly and orderly at present ;
but that would not be the case if one of our maids were
called home to nurse her sick mother, which seems very
likely. You see, dearest, if I am disposed to be over
anxious, I am likely to be cured, not by a removal, but
by an increase of causes for it. So, perhaps, if I can
get over it, and not only pray about things, but leave
them at the footstool, I may be less tried in the common
round of events. This, however, is but a sinister motive,
and there are better ones to urge me. . . Wallace
reads to me a little every evening, and makes much
of me, as if to indemnify me for the loss of my dear
little sister. I hope you are feeling more reconciled to
George's departure. O use the time you have with
him to strengthen dependence on his heavenly Guide,
who has said, ' I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.' "

The departure of both brothers, without her having
the mournful pleasure of saying farewell to either of
them, dwelt much on her mind, as a purposed and sub-
duing discipline from the hand of her heavenly Father.
It was to her tender spirit a heavy aggravation to the
trial of their departure ; but was met with resignation.
She did not fret nor murmur, but felt with Madame de
Guion : —

" Wishing fits not thy condition,
Acquiescence suits thee best."

Her letters are much occupied on this subject at the
period. One passage, showing from what hope she
derived resignation, is the only one wTe can quote.

u I remember the happy days of childhood — gone
for ever — when we were all united, as we likely never

276 MEMOIR OF

shall again be in this world. But this thought makes
heaven look lovelier.

' When I arrive on yonder shore,
There shall be calm enough for me.'

" These lines are seldom out of my mind; and, I
trust, every one belonging to us will be gathered where
there is no parting, but perfect union of spirit in the
praise of Jesus."

Longing that each might derive profit from the dis-
pensation, and willing to gather the fragments of conso-
lation, she addressed her third brother : — " I often think
of you now, deprived of both our dear brothers, and of
the pleasant prospect of living with George while at
college, and having his good advice and example. But,

my dear R , there is One who sticketh closer than

a brother ; and if you seek and find Him, He can never
leave you. I hope you will make this time, when your
dear brothers leave you, the time for seeking that best
of all friends. He is waiting with a heart full of love
to receive you ; if you only seek Him with all your

heart, He will not keep you waiting. Oh, R , does

not the agony our Saviour bore for us, show you how
much He loves us? And can any of the trifles of this
fast passing world make up for that peace which passes
all understanding, and which lasts for ever? The days
are gone when we were all together and happy at Kelso ;
but there is a better home where I hope we shall all
meet again. You would be amused to see your niece
now — she is full of fun and joy. She makes me smile
sometimes, when I cannot smile about other things.
How should I? — George so unwell, and both going so
far ! Write when you can to your ever affectionate
sister Mary."

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 277

Among George's papers left behind is one letter from
his sister.

k< Cleish, February 20, 1839. — I cannot tell you, my
beloved brother, the many anxieties that have filled my
heart for you, since we heard of your present state and
prospects. You are going with Corie to the far country
where we shall no more be near you. But oh ! if it is
blessed to the establishment of your health, how joy-
fully shall we look on the separation that grieves us
now ! I am much distressed that your native clime is
too stern for you ; but God will be the guide of your
way, and will, I trust, make a pleasant home for you in
the wilderness, as long as it is his pleasure to continue
you there. May you be able to say,

1 1 can be calm and free from care,
On any shore, since God is there.1

" You must help each other to run in the heavenly
way. You can do that as well in Australia as here.
The ear of the hearer of prayer is as open to the sup-
pliant there, as in this land of privilege. He is himself
the fountain of blessing, and sometimes gives it in the
greatest abundance when He has made us feel that we
have little outward help. He puts the means that we
are so apt to rest in out of reach, that we imvy look
straight. up to Him ; and when we do this, what showers
of grace and comfort does He pour into the heart ! He
shows us what a God of love and mercy He is, and
how safe we are, amid the many slippery places and
weary steps of our journey, walking in his light, and
resting under his shadow. He is weakening your
strength in the wTay, my dear brother, that you may
lean, more undividedly, on Him who is strong to save.
He is changing the plan we all loved to think of, that

278 MEMOIR OF

of your soon being a messenger of glad tidings, a shep-
herd of the flock of Jesus. But I trust it is that you
may see more of the glory and beauty that shine in the
face of this precious Saviour, and may learn the depths
of his tender sympathy ; for oh ! what is human love
to this ? And then, having learned the lesson in the
school of Christ, how fervently will you declare to poor
sinners the riches of his grace ! and what a blessing
will follow your labours, if, in after years, you are per-
mitted to feed the flock ! But I must check the utter-
ance of these hopes ; which, however, will dwell in my
own bosom while we are divided. Oh, George ! if I
did not know who is at the helm of events, I should
call it cruel that you are to go ; and I am not even to
see you, or bid you farewell. But it is oar Father's will,
and this must be enough for me. I have a wavering
heart that often departs from Him, and He sees it
needful to subdue it in many ways — and this is one of
them. I should have felt it a happiness to contribute
to your comfort, and have some sweet converse to think
of, when seas are between us. But this may not be.
Oh, may it please God to make me willing to submit to

this ! Dear J will be with you, and do for you all

that a kind sister can ; but do not forget that you have
another sister, whose heart is with you ; and do not
forget to pray for me. Oh, 1 have need that all who
love me should do so. Pray for Wallace, too, that he
may live nearer to Christ every day, and win many
souls by his ministry ; and pray for our dear babes,
that they may be among the children whom Jesus
blesses. Henry Robert was devoted to Him in baptism
yesterday ; may the mantle of both his dear grandfathers
rest on him ! The weeks you are now to spend in
Scotland will be very precious — remembered by those

IfABT LUNDIE DUNCAN. 279

who go, and by those who stay. May they promote tlie
growth of grace in each ! And may I, too, grow, though
not with you ! I was hoping to have had a few quiet
weeks with you, before the General Assembly. Alas !
when may we have a quiet week together again ? "

u Cleish Manse, Monday night.

" My Darling Janey. — Though I have not time to
write to you, I cannot forbear sending one line to tell
you how much I think of you in all your sad yet pleas-
ing duties. May you receive strength to be a support
and comfort to others in the time of need ! Keep up
George's spirits, and after he is gone, do all that is
possible to comfort mamma. This will make you for-
get self, and you will receive part of the comfort you
try to impart

" Every day, now, is precious with George ; and you
will long dwell on the remembrance of this blessed
time. Let it be consecrated by much prayer and con-
verse on the things that do not pass away* Would it not
be pleasant if you could fix with our dear brothers some
time, perhaps once a week, when we might all unite in
prayer, and feel that, though separated, our hearts are
one in Jesus ? It might quicken us all in prayer for
each other. Good night, my pet; remember your own

Mary."

We here introduce her valedictory poem, addressed —

^ To my beloved Brother, George Archibald Lundie.

Since o'er the wave thy Father's mandate calls thee,
And hids thee seek thy home in climes afar,

Sweet brother, part in peace ! whate'er befalls thee,
Still may his presence be thy guiding star,

To point with heavenly light thy pilgrim way,

And shine in warning love when thou would'st stray.

280 MEMOIR OF

Trusting, we yield thee to the mighty ocean,

For * in the hollow of his hand ' it lies,
And on its bosom vast, with meek devotion,

Thou'lt look from its calm wave to calmer skies,
And bless the love that reigns through every clime —
The God who fills the universe sublime !

When Albion's shores, from thy strained gaze receding,

Are fading in the dim uncertain haze,
And sad affection is thy spirit leading

Back to the beauteous home of former days,
Oh ! may a voice divine be in thine ear —
' Fear not, thou'rt still at home, for God is here ! '

Should languor come, thy gentle frame oppressing,
And tremble in thine eye the silent tear,

That now no more thou hear'st a parent's blessing,
Nor tender words, that sickness' self could cheer,

Be Jesus' sheltering banner o'er thee spread —

His everlasting arms support thy head !

Should'st thou, in spirit to thy home returning,
Behold the lessen'd circle sigh for thee,

And each, with mournful love and ardour burning,
For thee, retiring, bend the suppliant knee,

May faith's assurance soothe thy soul to rest —

' Their prayers are heard, thou shalt be surely blest/

With thine, our prayers shall rise, to Heaven ascending,
Nor seas, nor furthest space, a barrier prove,

And, at the shrine of mercy, sweetly blending,
Shall find acceptance through redeeming love ;

In lands remote our parted course may run ;

But nought can sever hearts in Christ made one.

How bright has been our hope to see thee feeding

His little flock in these our quiet vales ;
With watchful care the faint and wounded leading

To living streams, whose water never fails;
Aiding the feeble from the dust to rise —
A man of God — a herald of the skies !

But go ! Heaven's blessing on thy path attending,
Where nature's glories shine on frozen hearts, ■

And as the sun, the veil of darkness rending,
His morning splendour o'er creation darts,

May gospel beams diffuse resplendent day,

To guide the hapless flock that darkling stray !

MART LtTNDIE DUNCAN. 281

Hon beautiful, on earth's dark liills Appearing,

Day's harbinger, the messenger of peace :
How Bweet his earnest voice, the wanderer cheering,

That tolls of morn arising, ne'er to cease !
Bear thou those tidings o'er the heaving main,
And turned to songs shall be our parting pain !

CUithf April.

A year after, when the banished pilgrim was plough-
ing his way through the waves to the still more distant
station of the English missionaries on the Samoan Isles,
he addressed these remarks to his sister, retracing,
doubtless, in his solitary contemplations, the subjects of
converse long since passed.

" What profession, or what employment on earth,
can compare with that of a Christian minister or mis-
sionary? It is to be, by profession and always, doing
the work of God — doing that which is the duty of every
Christian, and that, too, without the continual barrier
which active employment in any other pursuit presents.
When shall I hear from you ? I fear it must be long.
But I love your poem, which is dearer to me every
time I look upon it. The last verse seems to me now
to be prophetic, and fulfilled in part by my present
movement. It is sweet and soothing from beginning to
end. I wonder if you will write me another !"

No, dear brother, she will never write you another.
The concluding stanza, which you deemed prophetic,
was doubly so ; for while you are bearing the tidings
of peace over the heaving main, her parting pain was
turned to songs. We dwellers in this discordant world,
with our ill-attuned hearts, wot not of the songs that
now employ her ; but we do know that the voice of
praise, ascending from the swarthy thousands of the
South Pacific Islands, fills the realm, which is now her
home, with joy. Shall we not join them in our feeble

282 MEMOIR OF

measure, and, bowing to his holy will, say — Blessed
be the name of the Lord !

The lapse of three years unfolded the remainder of
that brother and sister's history as it relates to time.
He lived to bedew with tears the letters which told that
she was gone from our sight. He expended the strength
vouchsafed to him in teaching " native teachers " how
to declare that gospel which his heart would have pub-
lished to the heathen, had voice been bestowed. When
even that exertion became too much for him — when
increasing pains and waning strength limited his occu-
pations, one of his last efforts was, while resting on a
sofa, to place beside him some letters from home, and,
as he was able, to read from one and another. These
letters, the medium of his last sympathies with the
objects of his love from childhood, made into packets
by himself, have again girdled the half of our globe,
and returned to Scotland. From those of his sister we
contribute a few extracts.

When her brother first revealed to Mary the concern
that he experienced in reference to his soul's health, she
wrote to him at college : —

" Cleish, December 1836. — It is a great comfort that
Mr Dennison1 is one to whom you can open your
mind, and whose piety and experience will enable him
to counsel you. Do not, dear George, shrink from
telling him your heart, the very effort will do you good ;
you will find that ' thoughts disentangle, passing o'er
the lips;' and sometimes, while he is giving you the
comfort you seek, you wTill wonder what kept you from
seeing things in their proper light before. Do not be
discouraged because your heart is cold and backward.

1 Now member of the Free Church Mission to the Jews.

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 283

Was it not always so, though you did not feel it before }.
And is it, think you, a bad sign that you have now
begun to feel it and deplore it? Would it be a bad
sign if a man, who had, in the delirium of fever, thought
himself well and safe, were to come to his senses, and
bemoan himself for the pains that were on him ? No,
dear George ; all his friends would rejoice, and, in
trembling hope, watch for symptoms of farther amend-
ment. Who is it that showed you the coldness and
inconsistency of your heart? Did you find it out your-
self? Ah, no! you were by nature dead, and in that
state could not feel. But the blessed Spirit has had
pity on you, and breathed on you, that you may live,
and so you marvel at the evils you find within — you
did not know before that you were such a rebel. If,
then, the Spirit has spoken to your soul, should you not
regard this as a token for good, and wait on Him that
He may be further gracious ? He is not wont to begin
a work and not complete it ; and do not think that your
sins are so many, and your instability so great, that even
He cannot purify and Hx you. Ah ! had He communed
with none but the holy, which of Adam's sinful children
would ever have been saved ? There is great hope in
thinking of Him, as He is the Spirit of patience. In spite
of forgetfulness, and fleeting impressions, and wavering
and doubtful suspense on our part, now looking to God
as our portion, and then back again to the false allure-
ments of earth, He does not wreary of us, but comes
again and whispers with a still small voice, and covers
us with shame, that we have wandered, and kindly wins
us back to the way of life. ' How can we sink with
such a prop ? ' Do not be afraid to look at the depth
of your own corruption, rather search it out as with
lighted candles, and try to see and to confess to God the

284 MEMOIR OF

very worst ; take to Him all your sins, and when you
feel hard, and not sorry for them, take that very hard-
ness to Him as a new sin ; and when you cannot pray,
and feel the dullness of alienation from God cramping
all your efforts, just confess that too to Him, for who
else can cure you ? Do not wait till you feel fervent
in spirit, for that is but a device of Satan, to keep you
from coming at all ; but come poor and wretched, and
the gracious Saviour will wash out all your sins in his
ever-flowing blood. Besides, do not think that you are
not coming rightly — that deceitful self is always intrud-
ing in some shape, and this is a favourite one ; but look
away from yourself and up to Jesus, and then you will
wonder what made you ever hesitate when you see his
looks of love beaming on you, and hear his tender
accents saying, in words that never can fail, ' Whosoever
will, let him come and take of the water of life freely.'
There is enough to revive your spirit and satisfy your
thirst ; and God has in mercy made you thirsty that
you may drink, and not be of the many who let the
living water flow past them, and never pause to drink
its healing streams. I feel very anxious about you, my
brother, and that God himself may be your guide and
leader, shall be my constant prayer. Good bye, dearest
George ; believe me your much attached sister,

"Mary."
Another letter, of two years later date, is numbered
among those which had a place among his treasures,
carried as far as Tutuila. The example of her sweet
mode of justifying herself from an erroneous imputa-
tion of pride, and her deep solicitude about the state
of the parish, are renewed specimens of the Christian
character which the other portions of her life have
exhibited.

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 2$L)

u Cldsli, January 1838. . . . For once in your
life, my dear discerning brother, you have made a mis-
take. I do not think there was any pride, or any thing
but pure sisterly love, in my sending you the Olney
Hymns, and I hope they may prove as refreshing com-
panions to you as they have been to me. When your
birthday came, and I had no little love-token to give
you, I was very sorry, and grieved over my distance
from shops. When I have been happy, as in a meeting
with all of you, I like some little memento of the time,
and in this light I peculiarly value 4 the Glimpse.' I
wanted you to have some such memorial. I found
some little thing for each of the others, and it would
have been hard to have nothing for you, so now you
are convinced that you may love the hymns without
fearing that they came to speak to you of pride — rCest
ce pas.

" Have you been hearing your favourite Mr Duncan,1
since your return to Glasgow ! I wish I could some-
times enjoy that privilege with you. Tell me if he says
any thing that strikes you as peculiarly useful. Last
Sunday Wallace preached at Kelty, and as it was fine
I went with him ; the chapel was crowded, and he
preached about the robe of righteousness, and contrasted
the wages of sin with that gift of God. It was one of
the simplest, most original and colloquial addresses I
ever heard him deliver, and the people are all pleased.
I wish I knew about their being edified too. Truly we
need the hammer that breaketh the rock in pieces ; one
and another drops away, and which of them shall we
meet in the kingdom of God ? O pray for this people,

! Now Professor of Hebrew in the Free Church College, Edin-
burgh.

286 MEMOIR OF

and for their pastor, that grace may be poured into his
lips, and that an unction from on high may attend all
his labours ! I hope there are hidden ones among us —
some who love the Lord unknown to us. If there are
not, we are in a woeful case ! I entreat you to be fer-
vent in prayer for us. Surely you will not refuse me
this. Suppose you were to agree to pray more especi-
ally for Cleish one or two forenoons in the week. It
would thus be sure to be remembered, and God might
bless us in answer to your prayers. When He does stir
up a special spirit of prayer, it is a sign He means to
send a special blessing. Oh, may we both live in
prayer ! and take every department of our minds, and
every thing that occupies us, up to God, to be purified
and sanctified. When we live in prayer, it is as if we
breathed a pure healthful atmosphere, every draught of
air giving new vigour to our frames, and new elasticity
to our footsteps. With what cheerful alacrity do we
run the heavenly race when we feel that our Father's
eye of love is on us, and hear his voice sounding in our
ears who cheered his disciples with those farewell words,
' A little while, and where I am there shall ye be also ? '
It is only when we forget the near presence of our good
Shepherd that we are faint and listless. If we main-
tained a constant remembrance of Him, and an earnest
desire to do his will, nothing could be uninteresting
that comes in the shape of duty, for all is sent by Him,
and should be performed to Him. Nothing is too mean
to attract his eyes. He notes down all, and we shall
hear of it again. Oh, my dear George, why are we
not more in earnest to please Him ? Why are his
words of truth not ever sweeter to us than honey? How
full and how tender is the love with which He looks on
us ! He would draw us from every danger that He

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 287

sees us approaching, and very often we require to be
drawn. He would set our feet in a large place, giving
us for a portion the glorious liberty of the gospel ; but
often we prefer the prison of some favourite sin, and
live in sickly damp and darkness, when the bright light
of heaven is beaming and diffusing health and gladness
among those who look on it. When shall we be wise?
May Jesus make us so now ! May our blind eyes be
opened and strengthened to see the light ! and then
never did we watch the tints of the rainbow with half
the delight it will diffuse ; for its hues are truth and
peace, and mercy is the bright tint that pervades and
enriches all the others. If we live in this light, and
walk in it, sweet will be the transition to its native land,
where it will beam on us free from the mists of sin, that
dim our feeble vision here. Our eyes shall be as the
eagle's, gazing in rapture on the fountain of light."

" Manse of Cleish, September 1839. . . . Do you
remember, dear George, to pray that the names of my
babes may be written in the Lamb's book of life, and
their hearts made white and clean from their infancy ?
O help me to pray for them ! I think what sin, what
suffering will be saved, if they belong to the Lord from
the first, and what a blessing it would be to have little
ones who are striving with all their powers to glorify
God their maker !

" My class of young women is not large, but I trust
a blessing attends it. We have dwelt about two months
on the person and offices of the Holy Spirit — a subject
full of instruction and edification. How many things
there are in the Jewish ceremonies that shadow forth
his offices ! how many passages in the writings of the
prophets that may be referred to Him ! As every class
in the Sunday-school had a teacher, and I had no Glass,

288 MEMOIR OF

I hunted out all the infants I could find, that is, those
who could read little or none, and have now a nice
little company, who manage to learn a verse or two in
the week. It is good preparation for my own babes,
to try to simplify every thing so as to be within their
comprehension. I only met with 'The Happy Chris-
tian' last week, and send it to my darling George, that
it may be the medium of a little sympathy between us.
You are sometimes disheartened, dearest George — this
little book has a striking collection of reasons why a
Christian should be happy, and I hope you will act on
them. Often the bodily health has a strong power
over the spirit, and is it not cheering at such times to
think of the Saviour, who knows the frailty of our
frame? He never changes. Love is in his heart and
in his promises. He is full of compassion and for-
bearance, and his consolations distil as the dew over
the parched and weary spirit. How reviving to turn
from a world of folly to Him whose wisdom is only
equalled by his love ! How vain to look for any thing
in ourselves to merit this love ! It is free as the air,
and life-inspiring as the morning sunbeam. He loves
us because his heart is full of love, not because we can
ever deserve it ; but this fact is the very thing that
should constrain us to love Him with the warmest and
freshest of our affections, with a cheerful and self-for-
getting love, that makes us willing to labour or to suffer
for his sake, as He may require. To live in love to
Jesus, is to live in the atmosphere of heaven. O that
we, dear brother, may do so, and meet when God
pleases, to revive and improve each other ! Alas! when
may that be ? But our hopes are not bounded by this
narrow circle of time and its concerns — they centre in
the everlasting country to which our revolving years

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 289

are bringing us, and there we shall find no disappoint-
ment, no sting of sin, to mar our peace. There we
shall be parted no more. Oh, the joyful thought I
Let us daily seek to be made meet for such bliss, and
k pray for one another.'

" God bless you, my precious brother ! and with
much love from us both, believe me your warmly at-
tached sister, Mary L. Duncan."

This, Mary's last letter to that beloved one, reached
him in his far-off isle of the South Sea, in 1840, and
bears traces of belonging to the number that he used
to unfold with dying hands, and read. It required
but revolving months, not years, to unite them in the
everlasting country.

290 MEMOIR OF

CHAPTER XIV.

SYMPATHY WITH AFFLICTION — MATERNAL LOVE AND
ANXIETIES — INFANTINE RHYMES.

In the midst of these touching interests, her watch for
the souls of the people was as vigilant as ever ; and
though her writing became less, her cares being in-
creased as well as her headaches, gleanings appear in
her letters of that which interested her. For example : —

" John I , of whose illness you heard when here,

appears dying fast, and gives brightening evidence of
preparation for his change. He says the Saviour has
been ' a sweet Christ to him.' He cannot now conduct
family worship, but he collects his family round his
bed, and prays as he can. W. is much cheered about
him."

Her engagements with her class are thus spoken of : —

" I am enjoying Serle's Horce SolitariaB on the Titles
of Christ. My class brought above two hundred, and
also a great many titles for the Church. It was a great
pleasure to me to arrange the titles of Christ and of the
Church opposite each other, and to find out what would
suit."

Of her domestic enjoyments she writes to her dear
school-fellow : —

" You will not have so many cares as I have, and
I trust you will have as many pleasures. Mine are
great, as I feel when following my little dancing Mary

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 291

round the nursery, or speaking to Harry, to gain a
sweet smile from him. I have a good deal of my hus-
band's company just now, and pleasant evening hours
of reading with him. I seldom see any one else, my
own dear ones being gone, and the season not tempting-
visitors ; so that I have time to think, and would fain
use it to some purpose, remembering that eternity will
soon wind up all that I am now engaged in."

The poem entitled "The Return of Israel," was written
in the spring.1 To account for the repeated allusions
to the Canticles which it contains, it may be right to say
that, during her confinement, she read or listened with
great enjoyment to Fry's Critical Commentary, which
beautifully spiritualizes that little understood portion of
Scripture.

In the month of May, there was a numerous gather-
ing of the family in Edinburgh, on the occasion of Dr
Duncan's presiding as Moderator of the General As-
sembly ; and, with others, the little family at Cleish
migrated for the time. The impression left on the
minds of her anxious friends from that period, was
that Mary was over-exerting her strength continually.
Restless nights with her babe, anxious days because of
a nurse that she could not confide in, an affectionate
longing to enjoy the society of her friends, hungering to
embrace every spiritual opportunity within her reach,
providing for her summer housekeeping in the country,
and occasional snatches of a debate in the Assembly,
seemed all, or any of them, to wear her out. Though
some moments of sweet converse were enjoyed — and it
was delightful to watch her countenance beaming intel-
ligence when listening to Dr Chalmers, or Dr Duff, or to

1 See Appendix, No. I.

292 MEMOIR OF

Mr Bickerstetb as he pleaded for Israel — yet the abid-
ing thought, after the hasty days had passed, was, that
her energy was more than her frame was equal to, and
that she must procure repose, or presently be stretched
on a sick-bed. Her letters were fewer than usual, and
repeatedly the accounts given by friends of their visits,
included the description of an evening passed on the
sofa by her, quite unable to lift her head. What
vigour she had left was awake to the theme on which
hung all her hopes. On the 8th of July, writing of her
intercourse with a relative whom the Lord had seen
meet to smite very sore, she remarks : — " To speak for

myself, I have felt the better for G 's visit. His

complete submission, as it regards his losses, strikes me
much ; and not the least in reference to his little chil-
dren. Instead of wishing he had them to soothe his
loneliness, he esteems it a special blessing that they
were safe in heaven before they felt the- want of a
mother's care. Thankfulness for their happiness, and
that of their mother, seems almost to swallow up his
grief. These are among the wonders wrought by the
religion of Jesus ; and when I remember the agonizing
struggle I had in winter, when I thought my Mary was
to be taken from me, I wonder whether the power of
grace could ever be so manifested in my earthly heart.
But G has had long training in the school of afflic-
tion, and his heart is much subdued. We have felt it a
privilege to have him, and to do what we could to
cheer him." In the same letter, she replies to remarks
on the expectation of the personal reign of Christ: — "I
do not think it the legitimate effect of a belief in the
personal reign of Christ to stop missionary exertions ;
that arises from carrying it too far, and fixing the time,
for which there is no warrant in Scripture. It should

MART LUNDIfl DUNCAN. 293

excite to greater exertion, that the nations may be wait-
ing to receive Him. I feel much interested in the Bub-
ject, yet almost tear to study it, lest I should go wrong.
The word of divine truth cannot be too reverently
handled ; and I shrink from a fanciful and erroneous
application of any part of it." To her sister, at the same
date, she writes : — " It is good, you know, to bear the
yoke in your youth, and I hope this temporary weak-
ness may be the means of lasting good, raising your
views beyond life, bright with the hues of youth, to the
better land, where alone hope is realized, and joy per-
fected. I often wish for you, dear, and feel that, how-
ever kind others may be, my sister is wanting. Where
are our dear wanderers now ? perhaps enjoying the
beauty of a southern shore, after their sojourn on the
water. Farewell, dearest : let us help each other to
pray for them ; and pray for me, that the cares of the
world and other tilings may not choke the word, and
make me unfruitful*"

A little poem, bearing date the 29th of July, seems
to be the first of many which were addressed to her
children ; the ideas in some of them suggested by the
mistakes and questions of her little girl.1

As we approach the last of her letters to various cor-
respondents, each expression of the brevity of life, and
of its imperfect enjoyments, arrests the attention ; yet,
withal, there was no anticipation of the close being at
hand. On the contrary, there were plans for future use-
fulness, extending to an indefinite date. To a friend,
on the eve of marriage, she writes thus : —

"September 28. — I trust, dearest, that all has been
smiling around you. When should there be a gleam

1 See Appendix, No. II.

294 MEMOIR OF

of sunshine in this changing scene, if not at such a
time as this, when hope is realized, and those whom
similarity of taste and principle have united, are given
to each other, to aid, to cheer, to improve, and sustain
each other through the rest of life's short journey ? Yet
in my own case, the earliest days of marriage were not
the happiest; but I was peculiarly circumstanced — taken
to a place of perfect solitude, in a wet and gloomy season,
while my husband was so much occupied by unavoid-
able duties, that he had very little time indeed to spend
with me. I thought often and fondly of the dear circle
I had left, whose tenderness had shone out the more as
the time of parting approached. But I must not dwell
on the process my mind underwent then ; as time rolled
on, I got more accustomed to my new situation and
duties, and felt that W.'s affection was a blessing for
which I could not be too grateful ; and now, with my
darling children, if I lived in the wilds, I-should not
feel it solitary. . . What an advantage the Christian
has over others ! While they form plans in their own
wisdom, and are bitterly disappointed if they fail, he is
resting on his Father, and saying, ' if the Lord will,9 in
all that he proposes ; and when his hopes are frustrated,
still, lU is the Lord's will9 that makes him meekly submit.
You, dearest, know this refuge, and, in the midst of
new prospects and new responsibilities, you will find
it a sweet and sufficient one. You must not be over
anxious as those who are orphans by their own choice,
for your Father in heaven will order all your lot, and
fit you for all its duties. His love is an anchor, as well
in the dangerous hour of prosperity as in dark adversity,
and I trust every situation in which you are placed
will open to you fresh and brightened views of that
love. . . We have the prospect of a quiet winter,

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 295

which I hope we shall have grace given us to improve.
Wallace will now have more time to read to me, as his
Hebrew Lexicon, the labour of years, is finished. I
must visit the poor around us as much as I can."

The hymns, presented in succession, show her pur-
pose of educating her offspring in the service of her
Lord.1 Her plan for keeping the Sabbath-day holy,
and yet making it delightful, associating habits of
restraint with animating and interesting occupation,
reveals what would have been her object had the term
of life been prolonged. As the event is ordered, He
who accepted the purpose of his servant David to build
Him an house, and raised up a successor to fulfil his
design, may, in condescending compassion, take those
dear little immortals, and fit them for his spiritual
temple, by means of hands which He has left to pursue
her work, and accomplish her matured purposes. We
are no meet interpreters of the plans of the Eternal —
it becomes us, like Aaron, to hold our peace.

The last days of September were passed in a High-
land excursion, kindly planned by her husband, with a
view to invigorate her frame after nursing her boy.

She hailed the charms of nature with never-tiring
delight, and gave permanence to some of her thoughts
in the verses which follow. Her spirit rose from created
and visible excellence to the divine hand, and to the
perfections of the dwelling-place of the Creator, and her
own hope of entering there. This journey, in common
with all other exertions, terminated in a severe head-
ache. She mentioned in writing, shortly after this,
" My head is very bad sometimes, but my general health
is excellent,"

1 See Appendix, Nos. III. to XL

296

MEMOIR OF

" VERSES WRITTEN AT CALLANDER, SEPT. 30TH.

How pure the light on yonder hills,

How soft the shadows lie ;
How blythe each morning sound that fills

The air with melody !

Those hills, that rest in solemn calm

Above the strife of men,
Are bathed in breezy gales of balm,

From knoll and heathy glen.

In converse with the silent sky,

They mock the flight of years ;
While man and all his labours die,

Low in this vale of tears.

Meet emblem of eternal rest,

They point their summits grey
To the fair regions of the blest,

Where tends our pilgrim way.

The everlasting mountains, there,

Reflect undying light ;
The ray which gilds that ambient air,

Nor fades nor sets in night.

Than summer sun more piercing bright,

That beam is milder too ;
For love is in the sacred light

That softens every hue.

The gale that fans the peaceful clime

Is life's immortal breath;
Its freshness makes the sons of time

Forget disease and death.

And shall we tread that holy ground,

And breathe that fragrant air,
And view the hills with glory crown'd,

In cloudless beauty fair ?

Yes ! for the glory is the Lord's,

And He who reigns above
Is faithful to the gracious words

That breathe forgiving love.

Then on ! then on ! ye pilgrim throng,

And ever as ye run,
Break forth in strains of heavenly song,

Till home and rest are won.

MART LUNDIE DUNCAN. 297

Look up ! look up ! to yonder li^ht

That cheers the desert grey :

It murks the close of toil and night,
The dawn of endless day.

How sweet your choral hymns will blend

With harps of heavenly tone ;
When #lad you sin^ your journey's end

Around your Father's throne ! "

In the month of October they received a visit from
an old clerical friend of her father, who left his young
daughter for a time, hoping to strengthen her constitu-
tion by a residence in the country. There is reason
to believe that this visit was blessed to a higher and
more permanently sanitary effect than strength of a
physical character ; for the dear girl looks back on that
as the interesting turning-point in her heart's history,
when the instructions and prayers of Christian parents
were made to take root and bud. Describing the time
past with Mrs Duncan, she mentions being taken up
on Sabbath afternoon to her chamber, where she "talked
with her affectionately, prayed with her earnestly, and
tried to persuade her, in her own sweet way, to seek
Jesus." She also tells of her singing sweetly to her
while they sat at work, and taking her to Kinross to
amuse her, though, as she remarks with great simplicity,
" I was happier and liked better to be with her, than
any friend she could take me to." She describes the
delight dear Mary experienced in planning some little
tilings to send to her distant brothers, and the many
headaches she gave herself by labouring at a piece of work
which was designed as a remembrance to a dear friend,
on her approaching marriage ; each of which little
marks will be observed as characteristic. Her industry
accomplished what furnished matter of amazement to
many. She seemed, as a friend remarked. " to do so

298 MEMOIR OF

much of every thing for every body," at the same time
looking well to her household, and not allowing her
own mind to run to waste. Her open book upon her
work-table, and her powerful memory laying in stores,
while her needle was plied, gave no indication of the
suffering head, which allowed itself no respite, though
much required.

Several poems for her children were written towards
the end of autumn.1

In the end of October she attended the marriage of
a beloved cousin in Edinburgh, whom she " had always
regarded as a dear elder sister." Her husband returned
home without her, as she designed to suffer a double
operation from a dentist, and allow herself a day or two
of respite between that and her journey. A transient
feverish fit in her little son, excited some anxiety in
him who was but too willing to find a reason for hasten-
ing the return of his beloved partner, and she was
hurried home. A fortnight after, she describes her
emotions in a letter: — "It was an anxious journey,
and many a fearful vision did I conjure up of what
might await my return. It was well it was dark, for
those in the mail would have been frightened by my
face. AYallace said he had never seen such a picture
of woe as I was when he met me in Kinross. I dared
not even ask how my sweet Harry was. Great was
my relief to find him pretty well. I thank the Giver
of all good that He heard my cry 'out of the depths'
of dread, and sent relief. Oh, how sweet it is to know
that there is a home for little children m the Saviour's
bosom ! — that when they are taken home, they are
taken from sin and sorrow that they have never known,

1 See Appendix, Nos. XII. to XIV.

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 299

to the full flood of joy and love, to the sweet gush of
angel melodies, and all the bliss, and all the hidden
things, which are still seen but through a veil by the
oldest and most experienced pilgrims on earth. My
babes are lent to the Lord, and I feel a delightful hope
that, in life or in death, He will accept the offering, and
then how can it be with them but well? Yet my heart
is weak, and the bare whisper of parting rends it. Will
you — do you, my dear friend, pray for them and for
me ? Oh ! it is dreary to think of our loved

ones scattered all over the globe — when to return.
Never mind ; there is a meeting place, where love is
permanent, and parting unknown ; and, best of all,
where hearts are so full of God that his presence is
enough to make their happiness perfect."

Letter to a young Cousin who had recently visited her.

" Cleish, November 12. . . I have often thought

of you since you left us, dearest F , and longed to

know whether you have yet made choice of the one
thing needful t 0 there is no time to lose ! Life is
flying fast away, and every day bears its account before
God. The longer we delay, the more difficult it is to
come at all. We can never be safe, and never truly
happy, till we have closed with the offer of Christ, and
become his for life or death. How kindly He calls us ;
how patiently He waits for us ! When He sees us be-
ginning to return, how quickly He j runs ' to meet us,
like the father of the prodigal ; and how joyfully He
welcomes us to all the blessings purchased by his
sorrows ! O what a dreadful account we shall have
to give in if we resist all this love, and refuse to be led
by the good Shepherd in his own pleasant pastures !
Now He is all kindness, all gentleness, winning us to

300 MEMOIR OF

Himself by love ; longing to have us with Him through
a blessed eternity. But if we refuse, He will be our
judge ; and oh! how awful to be judged by one who
laid down life itself for our sakes. How shall we stand
before his piercing eye, or bear his frowns ! But, my
beloved cousin, I hope better things of you. Perhaps
you have already come to Jesus, and given your heart
to Him, entreating Him to purify it by his Spirit, and
to bless you, and dwell with you in time and in eternit}'. .
If so all must be ivell ; for God will bless you, and make
all things work together for your good. But, my dear

F , do not satisfy yourself with the kind of religion

which is too prevalent. Do not be content with a
partial surrender of yourself to Him. Give all your
heart, f Where Jesus comes, He comes to reign.' He
will not accept a heart that does not desire to be wholly
his. But, if you do desire it, though you may feel your
faith weak, your love too cold, and your prayers want-
ing in fervour, you need not be cast down for this ; for
He has promised that He will be found of those that
seek Him. He gives us every encouragement to come.
He will supply all our need, and make our sins pass
away like a thick cloud before the sun. How sweet is
the peace which He gives ! . Those who know Him
have a refuge in sorrow, and a double joy in prosperity,
because they receive it as from the love of a tender
parent. In all times when the heart is sad, they can
pour out its sadness before Him, and find rest and relief.
When other sources of joy fail, as fail they must ere
long, this one but becomes the brighter. It endures
down to grey hairs, and rises with fulness of delight
when we put on the garment of immortality.

"How sweet to begin in youth and spend a whole
life for God ! How many after pangs are spared ! how

MAKY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 30L

much work may be done in his cause if we begin in
the morning of life ! O how bitterly shall we regret the
wasted hours when the evening conies, and the shadows
fall, and we feel that the time for exertion is past and
gone ! Again, how great an honour it is to be employed
in our Saviour's cause — to wrork for Him who died for
us — to be instrumental in winning souls to Him. We
may all be useful in some way, if we are desirous to be
so ; and if we pray to be shown how, the Lord will
guide us to the means.

" Have I tired you, dear F , with this long letter '

I have written it out of real love, and an earnest desire
for your soul's welfare. May I ask you to pray over
it, that the blessed Spirit may work all that is holy in
you ? Please do not show this to any one ; it is for
yourself alone. I should like much to hear from you
sometimes, if you can spare time. Wallace joins me
in kindest love to you and all our dear friends. Do
not, dear F , forget your affectionate cousin."

At this time the gracious awakening of many souls
at Kilsyth and elsewhere, made many to look up and
lift up their heads, seeing that the Lord had returned
in his power, to visit and redeem his people. Prayer
meetings were multiplied, and the spirit of waiting on
the Lord was given ; the glad tidings were revealed to
many souls ; and to those wTho had, in time past, en-
joyed the same blessing, it seemed now richer and more
precious. The pastor and parish of Cleish partook of
this gracious impulse ; and Mary, " to her power, and
even beyond her power," was abundant in hope, in
prayer, and in holy converse. It seemed as if she
were more fully enriched with the spirit of Christ, and
would have extended the arms of her love to embrace

302 MEMOIR OF

the universe. While she and many with her were re-
joicing in the glorious things that were doing in our
earthly mount Zion, He who holds the cords of life
was quickening her spirit for that holy place

" Where hope, the sweet singer that gladden'd the earth,
Lies asleep on the bosom of bliss."

She described herself shut out from the moving
world, " but tied by pleasant bonds to the nursery,
which was her world." " It cannot be told," she adds,
" how large an amount of thought, feeling, and time it
engrosses. I seem almost to forget other things some-
times, but never those in which my heart is interested."
Her family, the parish, the church, the glory of Zion's
King, these were the never-forgotten objects ; and, in
caring for these, her hours passed away ; now and then
weaving a rhyme, and again singing forth her thanks-
giving in the presence of " the Lord her righteousness."

When going to an evening prayer-meeting, during
one of the last weeks that she was in health, she had
detained a Christian friend while she made a nursery
arrangement. On hastening to join her, she remarked
that she had such delight in her children, and her cup
of domestic comfort was so full, that she could not
anticipate its long continuance in such a chequered
scene as this world. Few days intervened between this
grateful acknowledgment of her happiness and its in-
terruption, when the same faithful friend was summoned
by her own Christian love, in company with another
attached member of the congregation, to share to the
very closing moment the fatigues and griefs of her last
sufferings.

On the 21st of November, on witnessing the glories
of a winter evening sky, she wrote a few stanzas, which

BfARY LUNDIE DUNCAN.

seem left, like a voice of monitory consolation, to him
whose earthly fabric of happiness was just about to be
shivered to fragments.

" GATHER THE FRAGMENTS.

Thin clouds are floating o'er the sky,

And in the glorious west
Lingers the rose's brilliancy,

"Where sank the sun to rest.
A streak of light is hovering- there.

Unwilling to depart ;
And soft and still the wintry air

Breathes o'er the grateful heart.

Though summer's step of joy is tied,

Her voice of music hushed,
Her shades of living verdure dead,

Her flowery chaplets crushed ;
Sweet nature still hath power to bless,

By mercy's hand array 'd,
Her morn in fairy loveliness,

Her eve in dove-like shade.

So, when the days of joy are past,

And life's enchantment o'er;
"When we have bowed to sorrow's blast,

And hope is bright no more ;
There still are mercies full and free

Mixed in the cup of woes ;
And where the mourner cannot see,

In faith he onward goes.

Then weep not o'er the hour of pain,

As those who lose their all ;
Gather the fragments that remain,

They'll prove nor few nor small.
The thankful spirit finds relief,

In calm submissive love,
Toils hopeful on, amidst his grief,

And looks for joys above."

We find, bearing the date November, some other
poems addressed to her children.1

1 Appendix, Nos.- XV. and XVI.

304 MEMOIR OF

To a friend in affliction she wrote among the last of
her letters : —

" Manse of Cleish, November 25, 1839.

" My Dear Madam, — Although I hesitate about
intruding on you in the time of sorrow, I cannot rest
satisfied without the expression of my true and heartfelt
sympathy with you. Three days since, the notice of
your heavy bereavement reached me. I can feel a
deeper sympathy for you now than I could have done-
before I understood the depths of a mother's love.
Alas ! how mysterious is the providence which has
called from you your beloved and only son ! How
many hopes are withered ! How much love has gone
down to the silent grave ! But you know and feel, I
trust, so powerfully as to sweeten even this bitter cup,
that love is in this dispensation, and that it is the hand
of a heavenly Father that holds the rod. O what
comfort there is in this thought! He will- not use it
further than He sees it needful and salutary ; and He
tells you, even while doing so, that ' wThom the Lord
loveth He chasteneth.' Yes, my dear afflicted friend,
blessings even greater than the possession of your
precious boy may become yours through his removal.
If the love that was so warmly his is more firmly
centred in Jesus — if heaven appears more like home,
and earth more like the pilgrimage it is — and if thus
your steps are quickened towards it, shall it not be ivell f
We never feel the true meaning and value of our Lord's
promises, till we are in the situation to which they are
especially suited ; and many and sweet are those ad-
dressed to the afflicted. I trust you are now enabled
to feed on them, and find them as the refreshing manna
to Israel in the desert. The voice of human sympathy
is vain ; friends can only weep with you ; but Jesus,

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 305

that most empathizing of all friends, has power to
comfort too. He has early taken your darling from an
evil world, to be, I trust, with Himself for ever; and
is there not joy in this ? May you feel his own hand
supporting your drooping head, and turning the tears
of sorrow into tears of submissive love ! Forgive, my
dear madam, this feeble attempt to express my sympathy.
Receive Mr Duncan's with mine ; and offer it with true

kindness to Mr , and your dear little girl, whom

it has pleased God to leave lonely. Be assured of the
feeble prayers of yours, with most sincere regard,

" Mary Lundie Duncan."

306 MEMOIR OF

CHAPTER XV.

SPIRITUAL REFRESHMENT IN DUNFERMLINE — DILIGENCE'

IN DUTY LAST SABBATH IN GOD'S HOUSE SICKNESS

SUFFERING RELIEF FROM IT FOR EVER.

Those who had the privilege of intercourse with her
at this time, remark that Mary never appeared more
sweetly lovely in her liveliness. The idea of the Spirit
of the Lord being at work, and about to be poured out
in fuller measure on her own parish and her country,
seemed to have called all her powers into animated and
joyous action ; so that while she prayed more fervently,
and more ardently looked up expecting an answer, her
pulses seemed quickened, and her common engagements
were pursued with more elasticity.

The news that a meeting was to be held in Dunferm-
line, under the direction of Mr Wr. Burns, the young
pastor whose ministrations had been blessed elsewhere
to the arousing of many, led her to desire to unite with
the friends of the Redeemer there in prayer and suppli-
cation, and in hearing the word of the Lord. Her
husband having a professional engagement elsewhere,
she went in company of a female friend. Her desire
was fulfilled — a large share of spiritual influence rested
on her — and as she was leaving the sanctuary in the
evening, she said to her friend, " I thank my God that
I have been permitted to come here, and feel assured

MARY LUXDIi: DUNCAN. 307

faith and confidence fill my soul." The words of Mi'
Grey, in her funeral sermon, well describe this bright
experience, so close upon her entrance into the shadowy
valley : — " Her heart was full of divine love, her soul
was much drawn out in prayer, and she spoke sweetly
of Jesus to many. In the evening of that day, and
again the following morning, she read the Scriptures,
and conducted prayer in the family in which she passed
the night, where several female friends were assembled ;
and in these exercises she was remarked to be, as it
were, 'filled with the Spirit/ her i heart burning within
her/ and giving eloquence to her tongue. Many were
edified by her conversation, and one young person, who
had for a long time experienced much distress of mind,
appears to have been guided by her to the sure consola-
tions that are in Christ. Next day, visiting a lady's
charity school, she spoke affectionately to a little group
of girls on their soul's concerns, some of whom were
much impressed, and were noticed, on a succeeding
night, engaged in earnest attendance on the religious
exercises in church. The visit was blessed to her own
soul, and, we trust, has proved a blessing to others."
On her return, before she reached home, the damp cold
air of the evening had fallen. This confirmed a cold,
which probably originated in her having continued till
a very late hour in her chamber the previous night, in
devotional exercises, and in taking notes of what she
had heard in church, so that she went to bed exces-
sively chilled. But ten days elapsed before her health
appeared to have sustained serious injury. On that
subject she remarked, " if her body was harmed, her
soul was refreshed." On the Sabbath, she read the
notes she had taken of Mr Burns' sermon, to her class
of young women ; pouring out her heart in earnest

308 MEMOIR OF

entreaties that they would make sure work of their
souls' safety, by surrendering them now to Christ.
During that week, her time was, as usual, fully occupied
with work, ticketing and cataloguing Sunday-school
library books, and making a list of those which had
not been returned, visiting the sick, reading to the aged,
and teaching the young. A domestic remarked that,
for a long time before, she never stayed a few minutes
in the nursery, without mentioning some plan for the
benefit of some one. Her husband observed her in-
creased activity, and when he urged her to delay various
exertions till her cough should be relieved, she seemed
as if she felt time too short and precious — she must
work to-day, for the night was coming. Even her
delight in music was swallowed up in the pursuit of
Christian duties and spiritual occupations, so that, for a
long time, the evening hour had not been cheered by
her strains.

At this time she wrote to Dr Patterson, whose Chris-
tian exertions in Russia and elsewhere, have made his
name familiar in all the churches. Her object was to
promote the education of a youth in the neighbourhood,
who was not solicitous to what body of Christians he
was united, so that he might become qualified to seek
lost souls ; and she felt it a pity that any portion of
zeal and love should be lost for want of a little exertion.
The good man, in his reply, expressed his pleasure in
observing that catholic spirit, which, in these days of
division and estrangement, dwelt uncontaminated in her
breast, and enabled her to apply to a dissenter with as
free a heart as to a churchman ; and, it is for the pur-
pose of exhibiting this trait of her character, which
could not have been perfect in love without it, that the
incident is named. All who loved the Lord Jesus

^^

My Saviour bo thou near me,
Tliio' litcs' nigh! ,
I (iv, .Hid (lion >vill lir.n BBC,
Be niv li»1ii!
Mv dim si-lu admig,
frt'iitlv iliourl malting;
Moo\ li)i awaking-,

Where all is hri-lil.

Ef A Jl K.

Tlno' lif'cs'

r gni jj^

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li^n !

/? H*

dim si«'1il

^ essss i - ^ — ' "^Z-

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iK iii«.-, When

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m

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-J H

0 flno' mile's swelling ocean ,

Be inv f rnidc !
From tempests wild ctnmuotioi]
Hide, 0 hide'
I. df's ( i \ si.tl rfvei ,
Storms ruffle never,
Anchor nit ever

On that (.dm tide

VI. L I).

BfAHT LlNDli: DUNCAN. 309

Christ in sincerity, mv/v her brethren on earth ; all who
love Him in sincerity, are her brethren in her eternal

abode.

There exists, in the minds of many, a feeling of the
deficiency in the collection of Paraphrases for the use
of praise in our Church, not in number and variety only,
but in Christian love and doctrinal faithfulness. A
missionary compartment, in particular, would form a
valuable addition ; and the Church of Scotland's Mis-
sion to the family of Israel having been pointed out to
Mary, she at once entered into the idea, and a para-
phrase on a portion of Isaiah was the result, also
that address to " the Isles of the Gentiles." 1

Several poems collected in the Appendix cannot be
arranged exactly according to their dates ; but whether
composed at an earlier or later period, whether the sub-
jects are of heaven or of the smallest of God's works,
the same holy remembrance of her Covenant Head is
seen in all — his skill, his love, and the prospect of his
presence, enhance her admiration, and render her hope
more ardent.

To a Greek air, which a dear friend loved to hear
her sing, she composed, at the piano-forte, the annexed
stanzas, not being satisfied with the trilling words at-
tached to it. They bear date the 20th December, the
last effusion of her muse, and the prayer of their peti-
tion was about to be answered speedily. It has been
remarked, says Novalis, that we are less dazzled by the
light at awaking, if we have been dreaming of visible
objects. Happy are those who have here dreamt of a
higher vision ! They will the sooner be able to endure
the glories of the world to come.

i Appendix, Nos. XVII. and XVIII.

310 MEMOIR OF

It was either on this day or that which succeeded it,
that a friend returned from Dunfermline, fraught with
good tidings of many being pricked to the heart, and
inquiring the way of salvation. While the narrator
proceeded, Mary sat with clasped hands and eager gaze,
and for a time she could find no utterance. When she
did, her lips poured out the emotions of a heart rejoicing
in the glory of the Redeemer, and the rescue of the
perishing; and she said, among other things, "I have
felt for some time past as if the business of my life was
to pray for Christ's kingdom."

A note inviting her brother to pass his week of col-
lege leisure at Cleish, shows how little she suspected
that the dart of the King of Terrors was already fixed
in her bosom. " We are living in the hope of seeing
you next week, and trust we shall have a merry Christ-
mas together. I have a bad cold, but the joy of seeing
you will drive it away."

" On Saturday," as Mr Grey continues in his sermon,
" she was exposed unconsciously for a long time to a
current of cold air, which chilled her whole frame. Yet
next day she rose and applied herself to her Sabbath
duties with her usual zeal, taught her class of young
women in the morning, and after attending church, her
class in the Sabbath school, having felt particular plea-
sure in the service of the sanctuary, and shown great
earnestness in the instruction of her interesting pupils."
She returned chilled and shivering, and, as the servants
observed, " bent almost double," from the school ; but
still the unwearied spirit led her to lament that her
strength was all exhausted, so that she could not visit
"Old Kate," a very aged person, to whom she frequently
repeated great part of the sermon. "Thus," continues
Mr Grey, " was the last Lord's day of her conscious

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 311

communion with the saints on earth spent in the Lord's
service, with her loins girt, and her lamp burning. To
her power I bear record, yea, and beyond her strength
she was willing and zealous to do good, still to the end
devising and executing plans of Christian kindness. The
fever had already seized her, which, though not alarm-
ing to the inexperienced persons around her at first,
advanced rapidly, and, a few days after, deprived her
of the power of commanding her thoughts, inducing
convulsive effort and incoherent expression. In the
earlier part of her illness, she murmured words of her
father, her mother, often of ' Jesus/ ' his blood/ and
once, when asked who Jesus was, she answered, ' The
man of sorrows.' When her husband expressed his
concern for her great sufferings, she replied, 'Quite con-
tent;' and on one occasion he repeated the passage,
'These are they that came out of great tribulation, and
have washed their robes and made them white in the
blood of the Lamb ; therefore they are before the throne
of God/ etc. ; Rev. vii. 14-17. The words 'wonderful
peace' passed her lips, as if expressing her own experi-
ence in reference to the sentiment. On another occa-
sion, she said, ' I would give all the world to be with
Christ.' Being asked if she would like a revival, her
whole countenance kindled into a glow as she replied,
'.Sweetly, sweetly.' That was her last smile, and it
was given to Jesus and his cause. Such were the testi-
monies to her Saviour, that her dying lips were per-
mitted to utter. At one time, turning to her husband,
without any appearance of wandering, she inquired,
' Do you not hear that beautiful music?' He asked
what it resembled, when she attempted to imitate it in
her own silvery tones, but the effort was too great, and
she relapsed into a comatose state.

312 MEMOIR OF

" On an early day of her illness, when she probably
felt, what her husband was unconscious of, that the
sentence of death was in her, she expressed a most
tender farewell to him, which, a short time after, the
accession of disease would have rendered impossible.
About the same time, when he, within her hearing,
mentioned his surprise that she did not inquire for the
children, she said, unexpectedly, CI want to see my
children ; I am heart-sick for want of them.' Her
mother, distressed at finding that, although sometimes
called for by the poor sufferer, she was not recognized,
and could not awaken a sense of her presence, made it
her petition to the compassionate Lord, that, though
she should never be recognized, He would grant her
one word, but one word, from her child's lips, declaring
what her hope was. At this time, the patient had sunk
into a state of stupor rather than repose. When roused
out of it, her husband, unconscious of the petition which
had been spread before the mercy-seat, put the question,
4 What is your hope ? ' to which she clearly and distinctly
answered, 4 the cross.' Brief, but ample testimony !
Revealing two solemn truths — the one overwhelming
with grief — the other mighty in consolation. The
answer to the petition seemed to say she must depart
from us ; for were she to be restored, she might have
future opportunities of professing her faith, and, there-
fore, this one had been unnecessary. But that it was
answered so speedily indicated that He who hung upon
the cross was nigh to us in this hour of woe, faithful to
his word of old, ' In all their afflictions He was afflicted,
and the angel of his presence saved them.'"

In the sermon the following comparison is added :
— " These words were articulately and intelligently
uttered ; and while they undesignedly fulfilled her

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 313

mother's prayer, and confirmed her husband's confidence,
though by no means necessary for the consolation of
either, they may justify us in conjoining her with the
interesting group of the same name who, with the be-
loved John, attended the Saviour in his dying moments,
when the other disciples had forsaken Ilim and fled ;
for, we are told, ' there stood by the c?*oss of Jesus his
mother, and his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Cleophas,
and Mary Magdalene.' And as these stood by the cross,
and clung to the Saviour, though at the time very im-
perfectly apprehending the nature of his sufferings —
so our beloved Mary clung to the cross as her hope,
however imperfect her apprehension of all things else."

How precious were the isolated wrords that dropt
from her parched and indistinct lips ! When all our
feeble communings were shut out from her, the Spirit
of Peace infused his own consolations. We were by
these words at times furnished with a key by which we
interpreted volumes of thought which she could not
reveal. Words sprinkled over a watching time which
knew no night of respite, are left as the index of that,
the perfect reading of which is not for earth but for
heaven.

How solemn is the evidence of God's holy indignation
against sin, that though the blessed Jesus has removed
the sting of the last enemy, yet even from his own dear
children He has not seen fit to withdraw his terrors !
Who can behold a beloved member of the body of
Christ, whose glorious Head is in heaven, writhing in
pain, shrieking in feverish energy, and not feel that
death is a fearful enemy, sent at first as an evidence
that sin can have no share in eternal life, and continued
even to the ransomed, to prove to all more surely,
that their victory is not of themselves, but of Ilim

314 MEMOIR OF

who, to wash them from their sins, expended his own
blood ?

How formidably are the characters written, "dust
thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return ! " " There is
no discharge in that war." What now has befallen that
fair high intellectual brow ? Darkened and speckled
by fever, knitted and wrinkled by pain. Those beam-
ing, loving, smiling eyes — alas ! are they these starting,
bloodshot, parched and sightless balls? From scenes
like this, the world hides itself; it veils them, and calls
the act delicacy. But the divine hand that inflicts has a
divine purpose in the infliction ; and shall the servant
of God " walk delicately," and turn away from the
humbling spectacle ? No ; let us see what desolations
sin hath wrought on the earth, and then heal the torn
feelings by the consideration that the child of God has in
this encountered his closing conflict ; that, from hence-
forth, not only peace and ease will be his portion, but
fulness of joy at God's right hand, and pleasures for
evermore.

" I know thou art gone where thy forehead is starr'd
With the beauty that dwelt in thy soul ;
Where the light of thy loveliness cannot be marrd,
Nor thy heart be flung back from its goal ;
I know thou hast drank of the Lethe that flows
Through a land where they do not forget ;
That sheds over memory only repose,
And takes from it only regret.

And though, like a mourner that sits by a tomb,

I am wrajit in a mantle of care ;

Yet the grief of rny bosom — oh, call it not gloom —

Is not the black grief of despair.

By sorrow revealed, as the stars are by night,

Far off thy bright vision appears;

And Hope, like the rainbow, a creature of light,

Is born, like the rainbow, in tears." l

1 T. K. Hervey.

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 315

AVIiile death was working his fearful havoc on the
ear tli en tabernacle, and a word of peace occasionally
dropping from the lips, there was one indication that
the poor soul was still struggling, and perhaps in these
solemn moments suffering from the fiery darts of the
adversary, who, when he cannot interfere with the final
security of the sheep of the fold, will still hang on their
skirts, and make their hearts tremble ; for has not the
word, which cannot lie, described him " as a roaring
lion, seeking whom he may devour?" On one occa-
sion, when she was repeating her often murmured call,
4i Mother, come ! come ! " unconscious that she was
hanging over her, the stanza was recited — not, how-
ever, anticipating that it would be observed : —

" Jesus thy blood and righteousness,
My beauty is, my glorious dress.
'Midst flaming worlds, in these array M,
With joy will I lift up my head."

The pupils of her eyes, generally contracted to the
smallest point, dilated suddenly ; she looked with
anxious intelligence, till she uttered slowly, word by
word, " but — I — doubt/' — The gleam was past, the ex-
panded eye-beam closed to its former blank ; she spoke
no more. How vainly, then, for aught that appeared,
were the words poured out upon her vacant ear — " To
them that believe will He give power to become the
sons of God;" "I will never leave thee, nor forsake
thee ;" " He that cometh to me I will in no wise cast
out," etc., etc. And was it possible that this mournful
gleam, which had been permitted to dart from the cloud
which shrouded her mental powers, was meant as an in-
dication that she was still, in the midst of feebleness and
anguish, liable to conflict with that daring foe ? It is
probable that the thought passed, and never afflicted her

316 MEMOIR OF

soul again ; but even this tremulous expression teaches
that the prey is taken from the mighty — that it is the
lawful captive whom Christ delivers — that the wilder-
ness, even to the crossing of Jordan, is still the wilder-
ness, and that sustaining and comforting power is with
Christ, and Him only.

The struggle of the young life in her, however, was
subsiding. Those weary tossings were gradually be-
coming still. Those long rich mournful tones, which •
had made the chambers ring for days, were hushed —
tones, whose pathetic sweetness was all that remained
by which she might have been identified. She was
going home to her Father's house. All things had
been prepared for her, and in her. Her tender loving
heart was sheltered from the consciousness of being rent
from her husband and her babes. She had no leave to
take of any one, and wanted nothing more of any of us
but a grave. That day fortnight, at mid-day, she had
joined the voice of the multitude who kept holiday in
the sanctuary. That day week the door of the sanc-
tuary was closed. God was preaching to Cleish by his
solemn providence. But on that day — fourteen days of
anguish having terminated the conflict — shortly after
the hour of noon was past, her own sweet countenance
returned, her breathing sunk away, and her emanci-
pated soul passed into the world of spirits. There no
pause occurs in the acts of worship. Where the Sab-
bath is eternal, it requires no returning seventh day to
bring back the congregation to re-occupy the vacant
sanctuary. Yet it touches the imagination a little to
consider that Mary departed at the very hour when,
had all been well, she would have been entering the
courts on earth which she loved to tread. Death is a
dark and gloomy porter, but it has been his office, and

MARY LUNDIE DUNCAN. 317

will be to the end, to open the realms of everlasting
day to all who are united to Christ.

The snowdrop may droop its pallid head over the
turf that covers that precious clay, and the primrose,
that she loved, may open its fragrant petals, amid the
grass, showing that the hand of lingering affection has
been there : mourning love may raise its modest tablet
to tell whose child, whose wife, whose mother, and whose
friend is taken from the earth — that is the work of those
who are left to struggle out their pilgrimage. But she
is united to that family which cannot be dispersed or die ;
adopted to that glorious parentage which endureth for
ever ; dwelling in that light which is ineffable and full
of glory ; and desiring that all she ever knew and loved
on earth may, through like precious faith, join her in
the kingdom and glory of the same precious Saviour.

A few lines from the conclusion of the funeral sermon
must wind up the character, which needs no touch but
that of truthful delineation : — " Mary, as one pure and
holy, kept by divine grace in nearness to, and reliance
on, her God and Saviour, seemed a merciful selection
in point of fitness, if one were to be withdrawn from
our circle. But how heavy the loss ! Where was a
creature more beloved, more esteemed, and blessed by
every heart's good wishes ? This stroke has all manner
of consolation of a spiritual kind in it. No one could
be more willing to go. She has got her wish, or at
least, if her tender and considerate care for others did
not suffer her directly to wish, yet what her choice
would have been, no contending cares interfering. In
her diary she expressed it several years before : — ' When
I think of heaven it seems so blessed, that I wish I
were there. . . I shall be there for ever ; so let me
seek more fitness for it every day.' She is safe, happy

313 MEMOIR OF

— free from care, sin, sorrow, from henceforth. Her
light shone brightly here, and leaves a train of softened
radiance behind. How indefatigable was she in doing
all she could for others, labouring for their interests in
spiritual and in common things, amid duties and occu-
pations of her own immediate charge that are enough
to wholly engross most people ! We used to wonder at
the trouble she took about every body ; her sweet, mild,
Christian manner, giving a touching, edifying grace to
all she did. God gave her grace to accomplish more,
and made her light to burn the more brightly, that it
was soon to be extinguished. "

A white marble tablet, with a black framework, is
erected within the porch of the church by her husband.
Some members of the congregation, not satisfied that
the grave, also, should not possess a memorial of their
departed friend, raised a stone in the churchyard, not
more a testimony to departed worth, than Jo their
affectionate gratitude for spiritual benefits derived from
her whose remains rest there in hope.

" Seed sown by God
To ripen for the harvest.1"

Such was the simple epitaph of Klopstock over his
Meta. — Seed sown in God's field. We have rejected
the appropriate and ancient Saxon name of " God's-
Acre," and have adopted the name of churchyard, thus
losing sight of the august proprietor. This is the only
acre in the parish which yields no crop for man. Man's
seed-times and harvests make their annual round. He
ploughs and sows, reaps, consumes, and sows again.
No inch of territory is left unclaimed which the hand
of industry can render fruitful save this little spot, and
it is God's husbandry. Man, the sower, himself be-

MART LUNDIE DUNCAN. 319

comes the seed, and death prepares him for the earth.
The lord of all the surrounding hind here requires no
more space than does the poverty-stricken man, who
never before called a foot of earth his own. Here is
found room for both. God's harvest-time seems long
— scoffers have dared to say, Where is it? " for since
the fathers fell asleep all things continue as they were."
But it approaches — it ripens apace. His " harvest is
the end of the world." The power that caused the
dead walls to crumble in years gone by, at the blast
blown by feeble priests who bore the ark of the Lord,
will cause dead man to rise up, and stand ripe for the
sickle, when the last trumpet shall sound, and the an-
gelic hosts shall come forth as reapers in the presence
of the Lord. The Lord of the harvest has promised to
receive the fruits of the travail of his soul into his
blessed and eternal mansions.

" And so shall we ever be with the Lord. — Where-
fore comfort one another with these words."

320

MEMOIR.

Inscription on the Marble Tablet in the Parish
Church of Cleish : —

Co tl)t fHcmorj? of
MARY,

DAUGHTER OF THE LATE

REV. ROBERT LUNDIE, OF KELSO,

AND WIFE OF

THE REY. W. WALLACE DUNCAN,

OF CLEISH.

IN THE MORNING OF LIFE,

THE SWEET AFFECTIONS OF HER HEART,

AND EVERY ENERGY OF

A POWERFUL AND

HIGHLY REFINED INTELLECT,

WERE CONSECRATED, BY THE HOLY SPIRIT,

TO THE SERVICE OF

JESUS CHRIST.

LOVELY, ALIKE IN PERSON AND IN CHARACTER,

SHE DISCHARGED WITH FIDELITY THE DUTII

OF A WIFE AND OF A MOTHER,

AND PRAYERFULLY SOUGHT TO IMPROVE

EVERY OPPORTUNITY OF USEFULNESS

AMONG THE PEOPLE OF THIS PARISH ;

TILL,

UNEXPECTEDLY, BUT NOT UNPREPARED,

SHE FELL ASLEEP IN JESUS,

ON THE 5TH DAY OF JAN.

A.D. 1840.

AGED 25.

APPENDIX.

I.

THE RETURN OF ISRAEL.

Where is the beauty of that ancient land,
Where patriarchs fed their flocks by living- streams?

Still tower to heaven its mountain summits grand,
Still o'er them flings the sun his glorious beams :

But bowed on Lebanon the cedar's pride,
Nor vine nor olive waves on Carmei's rugged side.

Where is the melody of sacred song
That.floated tuneful down the vales of yore,

Where David led triumphant choirs along,
Or Miriam's timbrel swelled on Elim's shore ?

Faint are the quivering notes, and sad, and low,
That now, in doubt and gloom, from Judah's children flow.

The cultured plains, once rich with milk and wine,
Are turned to deserts 'neath a stranger's tread ;

The land, in ashes, mourns her banished line,
Nor yields her fruits, a tyrant's board to spread :

While, through remotest climes, her thousands sigh
To reach their lovely home, and bless it ere they die.

For, be their dwellings in earth's fairest plains,

They still an exile's pensive spirit bear ;
To them, nor hope, nor joy, nor wish remains,

But, turned to Zion, fondly centres there ;
They mourn it now, as on the willowy shore,
Where far Euphrates rolls, of old they wept it sore.

A time draws nigh to bid your sorrows cease,

Seed of the Highest ! Yet a little while,
And all your wanderings shall close in peace : —

Again for you shall Canaan's beauty smile ;
And where the cloud of Heaven's dire vengeance lowered,
O'er the rejoicing land Heaven's sunshine 1 shall be poured.

1 Cant iv. and viii.

322 APPENDIX.

Then shall the gathering tribes, from Sinai's height
And dewy Hermon, strain their eager gaze,

To view, through distance blue, or vista bright,
Each vale, each sacred stream of former days ;

While from Ainana's top shall burst the voice
Of loudest praise, and bid the listening earth rejoice.

No more shall dark Moriah's brow be crowned
With idol forms, that shame the blushing day.

Her King again shall bless the hallowed ground,
The hills of myrrh ! exultant own his sway : —

His temple rising, evermore shall stand,
The glory of all earth, the joy of every land.

With trembling awe shall Judah's children throng
To tread the sides of blood-stained Calvary,

And bless the Man of Woes — rejected long —
For love that lived through all his agony,

And watched, through ages, their ungrateful race,
That hatred gave for love, and scorn for pardoning grace.

His pitying look shall melt their contrite souls,

His smile celestial comfort shall infuse :
As on to endless day time's chariot rolls,

From pole to pole shall spread the joyful news ;
Till earth, with rays of Salem's glory bright,
To darkness bids farewell, and springs to life and light.

II.

POEMS AND HYMNS FOR HER CHILDREN (TO XVI. INCLUSIVE).

THE FLY.

My merry little fly, play here,

And let me look at you ;
I will not touch you though you're near,

As naughty children do.

I see you spread your pretty wings,

That sparkle in the sun ;
I see your legs — what tiny things !

And yet how fast they run !

You walk along the ceiling now

And down the upright wall ;
I'll ask mamma, to tell me how

You walk and do not fall.

1 Cant. iv. and vL

APPENDIX. 323

Twai God that taught you, little fly,
To walk along the ground,

And mount above my head so high,
And frolie round and round.

I'll near you stand to see you play,

But do not be afraid ;
I would not lift my little hand

To hurt the thing He made.

III.

A PRAYER.

Jesus, Saviour, pity me !

Hear me when I cry to Thee !

I've a very naughty heart,

Full of sin in every part ;

I can never make it good —

Wilt Thou wash me in Thy blood ?

Jesus, Saviour, pity me !

Hear me when I cry to Thee !

Short has been my pilgrim way,
Yet I'm sinning every day ;
Though I am so young and weak,
Lately taught to run and speak ;
Yet in evil I am strong —
Far from Thee I've lived too long :
Jesus, Saviour, pity me !
Hear me when I cry to Thee !

When 1 try to do Thy will,
Sin is in my bosom still ;
And I soon do something bad,
That makes me sorrowful and sad.
Who could help or comfort give,
If Thou didst not bid me live ?
Jesus, Saviour, pity me !
Hear me when I cry to Thee !

Tho' I cannot cease from guilt,
Thou canst cleanse me, and Thou wilt ;
Since Thy blood for me was shed,
Crowned with thorns Thy blessed head

324 APPENDIX.

Thou, who loved and suffered so,
Ne'er wilt bid me from Thee go ;
Jesus, Thou wilt pity me !
Save me when I cry to Thee !

IV.

A MORNING PRATER,

I thank Thee, Lord, for quiet rest,

And for Thy care of me :
O ! let me through this day be blest,

And kept from harm by Thee.

O ! take my naughty heart away,

And make me clean and good ;
Lord Jesus, save my soul, I pray,

And wash me in Thy blood.

O, let me love Thee ! Kind Thou art

To children such as I ;
Give me a gentle holy heart;

Be Thou my friend on high.

Help me to please my parents dear,

And do whate'er they tell ;
Bless all my friends, both far and near,

And keep them safe and well.

V.

AN EVENING PRAYER.

Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me !

Bless Thy little Lamb to-night !
Through the darkness be Thou near me,

Watch my sleep till morning light !

All this day Thy hand has led me —
And I thank Thee for thy care ;

Thou hast clothed me, warmed and fed me —
Listen to my evening prayer.

Let my sins be all forgiven,

Bless the friends I love so well !

Take me, when I die, to heaven,
Happy there with Thee to dwell !

APPENDIX. 325

VI.

PREPARING FOR SUNDAY.

Haste! put your playthings all away,
To-morrow is the Sabbath-day ;
Come ! bring- to me your Noah's ark,
Your pretty tinkling- musie-eart ;
Because, my love, you must not play,
But holy keep the Sabbath-day.

Bring me your German village, please !
With all its houses, gates, and trees ;
Your waxen doll, with eyes of blue,
And all her tea-things, bright and new;
Because, you know, you must not play,
But love to keep the Sabbath-day.

Now take your Sunday pictures down —
King David with his harp and crown,
Good little Samuel on his knees,
And many pleasant sights like these ;
Because, you know, you must not play,
But learn of God upon his day.

There is your hymn-book — You shall learn
A verse, and some sweet kisses earn ;
Your book of Bible stories, too,
Which dear mamma will read to you ;
I think, although you must not play,
We'll have a happy Sabbath-day.

VII.

SATURDAY NIGHT.

The week is passing fast away,

The hours are almost done ;
Before I rise, the Sabbath-day

Will surely be begun.

Through all this week, what have I done?

Have I been kind to all ?
Have I sought any thing but fun,

And run at every call ?

326 APPENDIX.

Have I been still when I was bid,
And ceased to make a noise ?

Have I been good in all I did,
At lessons or at toys ?

I'm naughty every day I live —
Say many a foolish word ;

But God can all my sins forgive,
Through Jesus Christ my Lord.

An infant's prayer He will not scorn :—

I'll pray before I sleep,
And ask his love ; then rest till morn,

For He my soul will keep.

VIII.

THE SABBATH BELL.

What sound is this, that gently falls

Upon the quiet air ?
It is the Sabbath-bell, that calls

Men to the house of prayer ;
For there God promises to meet
All those who worship at his feet.

Yes, listen to that chime, my love !

Sweeter than earthly song :
It tells us of that home above,

Where we shall praise ere long :
For if we serve our God below,
With heavenly harps our songs shall flow.

On earth the Sabbath soon is o'er,

The day we love is done :
In heaven there shall be night no more,

For God will be our sun.
The happy soul, in Jesus blest,
Enjoys an endless day of rest.

How gracious has our Father been,

In giving Sabbaths here,
To rest our hearts, like pastures green

The weary flocks that cheer !
Oh, let us thank Him for his day,
And find it sweet to praise and pray !

APPENDIX. 327

IX.

GOING TO CHURCH.

Whither are these people walking?

Dear mamma, I want to know.
Some are with each other talking-,

Some alone and silent go I
Through the wood and down the hill,
Many more are coming still.

Hark ! my love, the bells are ringing,

Tis to church the people turn :
Soon sweet psalms they will be singing,

Soon of Jesus' love they'll learn.
Each with Bible in his hand,
Goes to pray at God's command.

When to God we join in praying,

I, my child, will pray for thee.
O how kind was Christ- in saying, —

" Little children come to me !"
Will you come and be his own ?
Give your heart to Him alone.

THE GREEN PASTURES.

I walked in a field of fresh clover this morn,
AVhere lambs played so merrily under the trees,

Or rubbed their soft coats on a naked old thorn,
Or nibbled the clover, or rested at ease.

And under the hedge ran a clear water-brook,
To drink from when thirsty, or weary with play ;

And so gay did the daisies and buttercups look,
That I thought little lambs must be happy all day.

And, when I remember the beautiful psalm,

That tells about Christ and his pastures so green ;

I know He is willing to make me his lamb ;
And happier far than the lambs I have seen.

If I drink of the waters, so peaceful and still,
That flow in his field, I for ever shall live ;

If I love Him, and seek his commands to fulfil,
A place in his sheepfold to me He will give.

328 APPENDIX.

The lambs are at peace in the fields when they play,
The long summers day in contentment they spend ;

But happier I — if in God's holy way

I try to walk always, with Christ for my friend.

XI.

THE LAMB'S LULLABY.

The pretty little lambs that lie

To sleep upon the grass,
Have none to sing them lullaby

But the night winds as they pass.

While I, a happy little maid,

Bid dear papa good-night ;
And in my crib so warm am laid,

And tucked up snug and tight.

Then Annie sits and sings to me,

With gentle voice and soft,
The Highland song of sweet Glenshee,

That I have heard so oft.

Or else some pretty hymn she sings,

Until to sleep I go ;
But the young helpless lambs, poor things !

Have none to lull them so.

O, if the lambs to me would come,

I'd try to sing Glenshee ;
And here in this warm quiet room,

How sound their sleep would be !

Haste, kind mamma! and call them here,

Where they'll be warm as I ;
For in the chilly fields, I fear,

Before the morn they'll die.

mamma's answer.

The lambs sleep in the fields, 'tis true,

Without a lullaby ;
And yet they are as warm as you,

Beneath the summer sky.

APPENDIX. 329

They choose some dry arid grassy spot,

Below the shady trees ;
To other songs they listen not,

Than the pleasant evening breeze.

The blankets soft that cover you,

Are made of fleeces warm,
That keep the sheep from evening dew,

Or from the wintry storm.

And when the night is bitter cold,

The shepherd comes with care,
And leads them to his peaceful fold :

They're safe and sheltered there.

How happy are the lambs, my love,

How safe and calm they rest !
But you a Shepherd have above,

Of all kind shepherds best.

His lambs He gathers in his arms,

And in his bosom bears ;
How blest — how safe from all alarms —

Each child his love who shares !

O ! if you'll be his gentle child,

And listen to his voice,
Be loving, dutiful, and mild —

How will mamma rejoice !

Then, when you've done his will below,

And you are call'd to die,
In his kind arms your soul shall go

To his own fold on high.

XII.

THE BEE AND THE FLOWERS.

Ah ! do not— do not touch that bee !
Stand still, its busy course to see,

But take your hand away ;
For, though 'tis neither large nor strong,
It has a sting both sharp and long,

And soon could spoil your play.

330 APPENDIX.

I did not know the bee could sting —
I see it fly, on rapid wing,

Among the garden bowers ;
And now it lights upon a rose,
Now to a jasmine branch it goes ;

Say will it sting the flowers ?

It settles where the woodbine sweet
Twines round the tree — it plants its feet —

How firm and fast they cling !
Oh, how I love the pretty flowers,
That bloom through all the sunny hours !

Pray do not let it sting.

You need not fear ; it loves, like you,
The flowers of varied form and hue —

They yield it honied spoil ;
It only stings the thoughtless train
Who seek its life, or give it pain,

Or stop its happy toil ;

Or idle drones, which labour not,
But eat the honey it has sought,

To store the crowded hive;
Or insects that would enter there,
To steal the food it brings with care,

To keep its race alive.

In search of flowers this food that yield,
It flies abroad through hill and field,

With pleasant humming sound ;
It rests on many a blossom bright,
That opens, far from human sight,

To deck the lonely ground.

Flowers were not made for man alone,
But freely o'er the earth are strewn,

To bless the creatures too ;
And many an insect nation dwells
Among fair buds and mossy cells,

That we shall never view.

APPENDIX. 331

Mamma, you told me it was God

Who clothed with flowers the ground I trod —

Oh, I will love Him well !
He made the flowers to feed the bee,
And to delight a child like me,

Who scarce his praise can tell.

XIII.

THE WET SPARROW.

How heavy the rain is that falls on the ground !

How cold is the wind through the garden that blows !
It shakes the large drops from the branches around —

And see ! it has torn all the leaves from that rose.

I'm glad I'm within doors, so warm and so dry,

Where the rain cannot wet me that beats on the pane —

But what is that, hopping so quietly by !J
'Tis a poor little sparrow, that's out in the rain.

It cannot find shelter, for wet is each tree,

And no clothing it has to protect it at all.
Ah ! poor little creature, how cold it must be !

Mamma, may I take the poor sparrow a shawl ?

A shawl would but trouble the sparrow, my child ;

It has clothing still softer and warmer than yours ;
Which never wears out, nor by wetting is spoiled ;

For through summer and winter its beauty endures.

Now, look at it closer, and see how 'tis drest —
It is covered with feathers of many a shade:

Its tail sober brown is, and white is its breast,
And in coat black and grey it is neatly arrayed.

For God, who so kindly gives comforts to you,
Takes care of the sparrow, and clothes it, and feeds ;

He warmly protects it from rain and from dew,
And gives it the shelter and rest that it needs.

And see ! it has flown to its home in the tree,

'Mong the thick bowery leaves, where secure it can hide,

Or can soar on its pinions, all joyous and free,
As happy as you, when you sport by my side.

332 APPENDIX.

XIV.

MY LITTLE BROTHER.

Little brother, darling boy,
You are very dear to me !

1 am happy — full of joy,

"When your smiling face I see.

How I wish that you could speak,
And could know the words I say I

Pretty stories I would seek,
To amuse you every day :

All about the honey bees,
Flying past us in the sun ;

Birds that sing among the trees,
Lambs that in the meadows run.

I'll be very kind to you,
Never slap or make you cry,

As some naughty children do,
Quite forgetting God is nigh.

Shake your rattle^ here it is —
Listen to its merry noise ;

And, when you are tired of this,
I will bring you other toys.

XV.

THE HEATH.

This is a pretty flower indeed,
You've brought to show mamma to-day !

Though common, 'tis no vulgar weed,
Fit only to be thrown away.

It is the heath, or heather-bell ; —
I guess you found it on the bilk:

Its purple buds, its fragrant smell,
Are nursed by mountain breezes still.

And many a heathy hill I've seen,

All bright and purple with its flowers,

That bloom among the leaves so green,
Fairer than those of garden bowers.

APPENDIX. 333

The humming bee oft wings its way,
To seek the honey from its breast ;

It toils each sunny autumn day,
In winter 'twill have time to rest.

Nay, do not cat it, simple one !

For you will rind no honey there ;
But when the bees their work have done,

You in their sweets perhaps may share.

XVI.

THE SHADOWS.

The candles are lighted, the fire blazes bright,
The curtains are drawn to keep out the cold air :

What makes you so grave, little darling, to-night,
And where is your smile, little quiet one, where ?

Mamma, I see something so dark on the wall,
It moves up and down, and it looks very strange ;

Sometimes it is large, and sometimes it is small ;
Pray, tell me, what is it, and why does it change ?

It is mamma's shadow that puzzles you so,
And there is your own close beside it, my love ;

Now run round the room, it will go where you go ;
When you sit, 'twill be still — when you rise, it will move.

I don't like to see it— do please let me ring
For Betsy to take all the shadows away.

No ; Betsy oft carries a heavier thing,
But she could not lift this should she try a whole day.

These wonderful shadows are caused by the light
From fire and from candles upon us that falls ;

Were we not sitting here, all that place would be bright,
But the light can't shine through us, you know, on the walls

334 APPENDIX.

And, when you are out some fine day in the sun,
I'll take you where shadows of apple-trees lie ;

And willows and cottages too, — every one

Casts a shade when the sun's shining bright in the sky.

Now hold up your mouth, and give me a sweet kiss,
Our shadows kiss too ! don't you see it quite plain ?

O yes ! and I thank you for telling me this ;
I'll not be afraid of a shadow again.

XVII.

ISAIAH LXII. -5.

For Zion's sake— chastised of God —

I will not hold my peace ;
For Salem — smitten by his rod —

My labours shall not cease.

I'll daily wrestle at his throne

For mercy to the race
Of Judah ; are they not his own ?

Shall they not find his grace ?

Yes ; when his Church is stirred to pray

O Salem ! for thy line,
As orient light of breaking day

Thy righteousness shall shine.

As lamp that cheers the gloomy night,

Shall thy salvation be ;
Gentiles shall hail thy rising light,

And kings thy glory see.

Emerging from the cloud of woe,
As God's own fold confest ;

A nobler name He shall bestow,
And men shall own thee blest.

Thy Lord himself shall thee uphold —

A crown of glory bright,
A diadem of royal mould,

For ever in his sight.

Forsaken thou no more shalt lie —
No more thy land shall pine ;

Beulah shall be its title high,
And Hephzi-bah be thine.

APPENDIX. 335

Thy scattered sons, from many a shore,
Shall eager throng to thee ;

Widowed and desolate no more —
Thy land shall married be.

In thee, as bridegroom o'er his bride,

Jehovah shall rejoice,
For evermore thou shalt abide

The people of his choice.

XVIII.

THE ISLES OF THE GENTILES.

Calm on the bosom of the deep

A thousand beauteous islets lie ;
While glassy seas that round them sleep,

Reflect the glories of the sky.

How radiant 'mid the watery waste,

Their groves of emerald verdure smile
Like Eden-spots, in ocean placed,

The weary pilgrim to beguile.

Graceful through forest vistas bright,

The fair Mimosa's shadows spread ;
And 'gainst those skies of amber light,

The palm-tree lifts its towering head.

Alas ! that in those happy vales,

Meet homes for pure and heaven-born love,

Unholy discord still prevails,
And weeping peace forsakes the grove.

Alas ! that on those lovely shores,

Where earth and sky in beauty shine,
And heaven profusely sheds its stores,

Man should in heathen bondage pine.

O haste ! ye messengers of God,

With hearts of zeal, and tongues of flame —

Go ! spread the welcome sound abroad,
That all may "bless Messiah's name."

That where the smoke of offerings base,

From idol fanes obscures the day,
May rise the incense of a race,

Whose souls are taught by Heaven to pray.

336 APPENDIX.

When shall the solemn Sabbath-bell

Chime through those plains at morning prime,

And choral hymns of praises swell

Through those deep woods, in notes sublime ?

Soft mingling with the wave's low moan,
The sound shall float o'er ocean's breast,

To tell the wave-tossed wanderer lone,
" The ark of mercy here doth rest."

XIX.

ON HEARING A CONCERT OF MUSIC.

There's music on the listening air,

That, faint as evening's parting breeze,

Seems in its soft low tones to bear,
Combined, a thousand melodies!

Now swells the strain, and gaily now
From harp and voice in union bland,

Such light and graceful measures flow,
As lead the sports in Fairy-land !

Now falls the strain ; but silent still,
As hearing yet that charmed sound,

Rests a bright band — for rapture's thrill
Yet vibrates in each bosom's bound.

The hush is o'er ! the beaming smile

And low-toned whispers breathe delight ;

O could those strains that time beguile
Yet float upon the wings of night ?

Ye lovely throng ! a sweeter lay
Than this ye yet may learn to sing;

And harps of deeper melody,
Your hands, in fairer climes, may string.

Was music given to cheer your souls ?

'Tis purer where the angels dwell ;
Through heaven the lofty anthem rolls,

As thousand lyres the chorus swell.

Love ye the soft, the pensive calm,

That earth-born numbers round you shed ?

The soul that wins the victors palm,
Shall hymn ecstatic joys when time is fled !

APPENDIX. 337

XX.

A WISH.

Written in M. A. B's Album.

I ask not that where pleasure tunes

Her syren voice to song",
Thou to the fairy strains may'st list

Amid the giddy throng ;
For well 1 know that happiness,

Fair child of heavenly birth !
Approaches not the glittering scenes,

That bear her name on earth.

I ask not that where folly wheels

Her gay and ceaseless maze,
Thou may'st with others pass the best,

The earliest of thy days.
For ah ! when sadness shades the brow,

And sorrow dims the eye,
Her visions of enjoyment cease,

Her fair illusions die.

I ask not that in fragrant bowers

Thy sunny days may fly,
Where every tranquil object smiles

Beneath a cloudless sky ;
For then would earth be paradise,

And thou would'st wish to dwell
For ever 'mid its smiling plains,

And love its charms too well.

But may'st thou find that holy peace,

The calm, the pure, the blest,
Which as thou journey \st through the world

Will keep thy heart at rest.
For it will shed its radiant beam

On thine untroubled heart,
And thou shalt bless the love of Him

Who could such joy impart.

And when thy dying hour shall come,

And earth can charm no more,
'Twill shine with brightness yet unknown,

Till thy last breath is o'er.
Peace was the parting gift of Him

Whose life on earth was love ;
And what we taste but dimly here,

Is perfect bliss above-

Y

338 APPENDIX.

XXI.

11 FORGET ME NOT."
To a Friend.

There is a little fragile flower,
That bends to every passing breeze ;

It lingers near the leafy bower,
Amid the shade of summer trees.

No gaudy hue attracts the gaze
Of those that pass its humble bed,

No odours fill the forest maze
By its expanding blossoms shed.

Yet dearer is its bending stem,
And cup of blue, that grace the bower,

Than many a costly orient gem
That blazes in the crown of power.

For oft fond friends, when doomed to part,
Its lowly resting-place have sought,

And whispered, with a sadden'd heart,
" Look on it, and forget me not."

And oft, when wandering in a land
That's dearly loved by thee and me,

We gathered with a gentle hand
This emblem of sweet constancy.

Accept, though small its value be,
This token of my love sincere,

And glancing on it, think on me,
Forget me not ! thou ever dear !

May it to faithful memory,

Recalling many a long-loved spot,

For distant Scotland and for me,
Breathe softly, sweet " Forget me not ! "

For though no more thou view'st the flower,
Nor hail'st its blossoms opening fair,

Yet lov'st thou to recall the hour,
When we have marked its beauties there t

APPENDIX. 339

XXII.

ADDRESS TO SCOTLAND.

When at school she wrote the following poem, in reply to the
bantering of B southern friend. The plan she adopted to indicate
that the style of ridiculing her country was unpleasant to her,
was not only mild, but, skilful in one so young.

Thou art the country of my birth,

And wheresoe'er I rove,
Thou art the spot of all the earth

1*11 never cease to love.

Thou art the land where first my eyes

Were open to the day;
Where first I heard the lullabies

That soothe my pains away.

And first among thy grassy dales

My infant footsteps strayed,
.And first in thy beloved vales

My happy childhood played.

And first beneath thine azure sky

I learned that sacred name
Which breathes of immortality,

And feeds love's holy flame.

The morning and the evening breeze

That o'er thy valleys stray,
Played round me when I bent my knees

And raised my heart to pray.

Oh ! there's a charm in those sweet scenes,

Which now are past away,
That o'er me steals like early dreams

Of life's first opening day.

And every spot of that sweet land,
Where childhood's years were passed,

Is bound by love's most tender band,
That with my life must last.

Scotland ! though many a mile may lie

Between thy shores and me,
Ne'er can that sweet affection die

That knits my heart to thee.

340 APPENDIX.

XXIII.

HOME.

Written about the same period.

There is a rnagic in the name of home,
A charm which even the callous bosom knows,

And O, when from its precincts far we roam,
How brightly each loved scene in memory glows!

When wandering in a scene of strife and cares,
'Mid those, alas ! we may not deem our friends,

How fair a form each scene of childhood bears I
How warmly each dear distant object blends !

The Eolian lyre, touched by the passing gale,
When wrapt in silence deep it slumbering lay,

Wakes all its strings to burst in wildest wail,
Or in a softened murmur melts away.

So to the heart, when all things dark appear,
And sad, it shuns the gay and giddy throng ;

The name of home, but whispered in the ear,
Can tune that mournful heart to hope and song.

Ah, then ! the sudden gleam of happiness
That lights the eye, erewhile so sad and dim ;

The smile, the sigh, we vainly would suppress,
Show that a soul of feeling dwells within.

Sweet home ! loved dwelling-place of peace and rest,
When chill the blasts of scorn around us blow,

To thee, as hies the turtle to her nest,
We speed, to taste thy joys that peaceful flow.

Sweet home ! O pitied be the frozen soul

Which flies affection's bland and melting light,

And wooes the gleams that flash around the pole,
Cold, cheerless, fleeting — offspring of the night !

Which shuns the sunshine of domestic peace,
Like summer morn, all lovely and serene,

Whose pleasures but with lengthening years increase,
While friendship's sweetest smiles illume the scene.

Sweet happy home ! O can I e'er forget

Thy charms — thy flowery bowers, thine azure sky —

And those dear friends who in thy bounds are met?
Ah, no ! ah, no ! " 111 love thee till I die."

APPENDIX. 341

XXIV.

This letter was addressed to her pastor in Edinburgh, by a friend
who often ministered to his people at communion seasons : —

" Though scarcely acquainted with your departed friend, yet none
could see her without feeling very deeply interested. The first
time my eyes beheld her, was as I came down your pulpit stairs
one Sabbath evening-. She was in your pew conversing- with your
daughter. The setting sun shed a hallowed radiance over her
heaven-born countenance. She smiled a very angel of light! I
need not tell you that I hastened to inquire who she was. But
alas! these eyes will behold her no more on earth. Yet she has
not lived in vain. How many sources of comfort are there when
we look back and dwell on her life ! and how much also to soothe
in her death ! If the power of recognition is given to beatified
spirits, O how it must exhilarate her father's adoration to know,
that the voice of one whom he taught to lisp in grace, now swells
the song of the heavenly choir ! "

The following is quoted from her friend in America, the Rev.
Dr Cox : —

" I feel as if, like Job's friends, I could commence my introduc-
tion to your altered state, with seven days and seven, nights of mute
confusion, wondering and vainly discrediting the realities I know.
Were I to tell you all that I have said and thought since my return,
of that dear one now in glory, it would appear extravagant and
fictitious. But I will not attempt to send you such a document.
Suffice it, that I loved your dear Mary, and love her yet, as one of
the rarest specimens of woman ! Lovely creature ! 1 often said
that I bore from Europe no impression of loveliness and worth more
complete than those given me by Mary Lundie. And now, my dear
madam, what shall I say to you? Disciplined as you have been
to weep for yourself and others, and to find consolation in God
equal to your day, I would prefer, if I could, to mourn by your side,
and listen to your words, and let you comfort me as I should tell
you how bleeds my heart — what a pleasant and lovely friend, and
endeared correspondent, has left me alone, as to her, in the world,
and what sorrow it has piled on me, that I cannot bear ! "

342 APPENDIX.

XXV.

SKETCH OF HER CHARACTER BY HER CORRESPONDENT IN
LONDON.

" My opinion is merely the echo of that expressed by a circle of
intimate friends, who, whenever her name was mentioned, univer-
sally agreed in their estimate. All speak with love and admiration
of the rare combination of excellencies she exhibited. Her piety,
natural dispositions, intellectual attainments, accomplishments, and
personal attractions, would, if held separately, have distinguished
their possessors in society, but when united in one individual, like
the colours in the heavenly bow, each added beauty to the rest.

" To begin with the evanescent qualities, I am glad a portrait was
not attempted. It would have been too much to hope for a like-
ness. It is not a matter of surprise that it should be difficult to
transfer to canvass those features, chiseled in the highest style of
Grecian beauty, and lighted up as they usually were, with an ex-
pression almost seraphic — and it is better that nothing unjustly
purporting to be a representation should appear. I well remember,
when at school, a weight having accidentally fallen on'dear Mary's
head, she was obliged to recline on a sofa ; the fright had sent
away the colour from her cheeks, and she lay with her eyes closed.
We were all seated round the table with our drawing. My own
pencil relaxed for a few minutes to gaze on that alabaster face, as I
thought I had never before seen anything so beautiful. On glancing
round, each eye was found attracted to the same spot, and an in-
voluntary murmur of admiration escaped every lip. This little in-
cident has often been referred to by those who were present, and I
confess it is among my most vivid recollections. Perhaps to many
it may appear unworthy of being mentioned, as beauty is such a
secondary thing in reality. Still to deny its great influence betrays
little knowledge of human nature ; and as it often forms a strong
temptation to its possessor, a deliverance from the snare is an
additional proof of the power of divine grace, and as such is worthy
of record. We have the authority of one of our most celebrated
clergymen for the declaration, that * since beauty is the gift of
God, and a good gift, the beautiful woman is as accountable to Him
for the use she makes of her beauty, as the man of intellect is for
the talents bestowed on him.'

APPENDIX. 343

" The term holy, which can seldom be used in reference to indi-
viduals dwelling in this world of sin, always seemed singularly ap-
plicable to dear Mary. She was one of the very few In whom, for
days together, you might endeavour to trace her actions to their
source, and find they originated in right motives, — any one who
has tried such an experiment will know that this result is not com-
mon. The godlike disposition to promote the happiness of every
sentient being, was displayed in acts of kindness to every person
and living thing within her reach. Large indeed were the sympathies
of that unselfish heart.

" Refinement of mind and taste was perhaps her most striking
characteristic. The one purely natural, as it must ever be, the
other partly owing to her early and intimate acquaintance with the
best classic authors in her own language. Her companionable
qualities were appreciated even by those who had no opportunity of
judging of the deeper parts of her character. She had a most
happy mode of imparting information — that suggestive manner,
which seems to give the superiority to the hearer. Her store of
general knowledge was very large, and she was at great pains for
its constant increase. Not a visit was paid^ a book read, or the
prospect of a lovely landscape enjoyed, without an after investiga-
tion as to the amount of new ideas and images received. Her en-
thusiastic enjoyment of the beauties of nature and poetry, might
have tempted one to suppose that an atmosphere of poetical ex-
citement was that which she constantly breathed. But a more
minute acquaintance with her character, produced the conviction
that she had a just appreciation of more solid pursuits united to
very active habits, founded on a principle of duty.

" Her industry was indefatigable. During my visit to her after
her marriage, when her delicate health seemed to call upon her to
take rest, from six in the morning till near midnight she was un-
ceasingly occupied. And when we remember that her natural
character was not of that bustling, energetic kind which delights in
action, but decidedly of a meditative cast, surely we must acknow-
ledge and admire the strength of that principle which obtained so
complete a mastery over constitutional tendencies. Many who are
conscious of possessing far greater bodily stamina, would shrink
from much which she encountered in her visits to distant cottages
in stormy weather — or in preparations for classes when her aching
head much needed repose. But with her, at all times, mind nobly
conquered matter/'

344 APPENDIX.

XXVI.

STANZAS ON READING THE MEMOIR OF MARY LUNDIE

DUNCAN.

BY MRS LYDIA H. SIGOUUNEY.

Sweet bird of Scotia's tuneful clime,

So beautiful and dear,
Whose music gush'd as genius taught
With heaven's own quenchless spirit fraught,

I list — thy strain to hear.

Bright flower — on Kelso's bosom born,

When spring her glories shed,
Where Tweed flows on, in silver sheen,
And Teviot feeds her valleys green,

I cannot think thee dead.

Fair child — whose rich unfoldings gave

A promise rare and true,
The parent's proudest thoughts to cheer,
And soothe of widow'd woe the tear —

Why hid'st thou from our view ?

Young bride— whose wildest thrill of hope -

Bowed the pure brow in prayer,
Whose ardent zeal, and saintly grace,
Did make the manse a holy place,

We search — thou art not there.

Fond mother — they who taught thy joys

To sparkle up so high,
Thy first-born and her brother dear
Catch charms from every fleeting year : —
Where is thy glistening eye ?

Meek Christian — it is well with thee,

That where thy heart so long
Was garnered up, thy home should be ; —
Thy path with Him who made thee free ; —

Thy lay — an angel's song.

Hartford, Connecticut, Feb. 22, 1842.

FINIS.

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