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•    I 


Itheological  seminary,! 

^  Princeton,  N.  J.  J 

-^  ^ 

^  From  the  PUBLISHER.  * 

BR  1725  .D86  D86  1848  ' 
Duncan,  Mary  Grey  Lundie. 
Memoir  of  Mrs.  Mary  Lundie 
Duncan 


1 

MEMOIR 


MRS    MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  DAUGHTER. 


BY    HER    MOTHER. 


No  tears  for  thee— though  our  lone  spirits  mourn 
Thnt  thou  with  sprinii's  sweet  flowers  wilt  ne'er  return. 
No  tears  for  thee— tlioufrli  hearth  anil  home  are  hliuhied, 
Though  sadness  cloud-i  the  scenes  ihy  love  has  lighted. 
tin  tears — for,  while  with  us,  thy  soul,  opprest. 
Oft  longed  for  refuge  in  thy  Saviour's  breast. 
No  tears— for  thou  hast  found  thy  home  above. 
No  tears-  thou'rt  sheltered  in  the  arms  of  love. 

J   C.  L. 


NEW  YORK: 
ROBERT  CARTER,  58  CANAL  STREET, 

I84y. 


CONTENTS  ■ 

PAQK 

BTANZAB    WTIITTEN    ON    READING    THE    MEMOIR    OF  MRS.    MART  ^ 

LtJNDIE    DUNCAN 8 

CHAPTER  I. 

DAYS    OF   CHILDHOOD 9  ' 

CHAPTER  II.  I 

SCHOOL    DAYS .33 

CHAPTER  III. 

HER    FIRST   AFFLICTION .         47  | 

I 

CHAPTER  IV.  j 

6TUDIE9   AND    OCCUPATIONS    IN    EDINBURGH               .                        .         63  ' 

CHAPTER  V. 

CORRESPONDENCE    AND    DIARY       ...                       .            .         87  i 

CHAPTER  VI. 

CORRESPONDENCE .       118  j 

CHAPTER  VII.  ! 

! 

VENERAULE     CHRISTIAN — VISITS     TO     THE     POOR — REV.     JOHN  ! 

BROWN    PATTERSON 13$  I 

CHAPTER  VIII.  < 

OI8APPOINTMENT,  AND  THE  MANNER  IN  WHICH  IT  WAS  BORNE       151  | 

CHAPTER  IX.  J 

SORROW   TURNED    INTO   THANKFULNESS                                    .            .       170  ] 

CHAPTER  X. 

A    NEW    HOME      .                        187  I 

CHAPTER  XI. 

PAROCHIAL   SOLICITUDE MATERNAL    EMOTIONS      .            .            .       199  ' 


IT 


coNinxTK^. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

CBOWTH    IN    LOVE        ........ 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE    MUSE    RECALLED A  SON    GIVEN TWO    BROTHERS  WITH- 


PAGE. 

224 


DRAWN 


243 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

POETIC    EFFUSIONS — SYMPATHY  WITH    AFFLICTION MATERNAL 

LOVE  AND  ANXIETIES — INFANTINE  RYHMES      . 

CHAPTER  XV. 


257 


■rmiTDAL  REFRESHMENT — DILIGENCE  IN  STUDY LAST  SAB- 
BATH IN  god's  house SICKNESS SUFFERING RE- 
LIEF   FROM    IT    FOR  EVER 270 

APPENDIX. .  .  287 

NO.  I. THE    RETURN    OF    ISRAEL  .  .  .  .  287 

II. THE    FLY 288 

III. A    PRAYER 289 

IV. A    MORNING    PRAYER         ....  .  290 

V. AN    EVENING    PRAYER 290 

VI. PREPARING    FOR    SUNDAY  .....  291 

VII. SATURDAY    NIGHT 291 

Vlll. THE    SABBATH-BF.LL 292 

IX. GOING    TO    CHURCH 293 

I. THE    GREEN    PASTURES    ......  293 

XI. THE    lamb's    LULLABY 294 

XII. — THE    BEE    AND    THE    FLOWERB  ....  296 

XIII. THE    WET    SPARROW         .  .  .  .  .  .  297 

XIV. — MY    LITTLE    BROTHER 298 

XV. THE    HEATH  .......  298 

XVI. THE    SHADOWS  . 299 

XVII. ISAIAH,  CHAP.    :.XII.  VER.   1-5  .  .  .  300 

XVIII. — THE    ISLES    OF   THE    GENTILES  .  .  .  301 

XIX. ON    HEARING    A    CONCERT    OF    MUSIC  .  .  .  302 

XX. A    WISH 303 

XXI. — "  FORGET    ME    NOT." 304 

XXII. ADDRESS    TO    SCOTLAND  .....  305 

XXill. HOME    ....  ....  306 

XXIV. — LETTER    TO    HER    PASTOR    IN    EDINBURGH            .            •  307 
LETTER  FRO.M  HER  FRIEND  IN    AMERICA,  REV.  DR.  C.  308 
XXV. — SKETCH    OF    HER    CHARACTER    BY    HER    CORRESPON- 
DENT   IN    LONDON 308 


PREFACE. 


This  little  Work  treats  of  the  initiatory  steps  of  an  im 
mortal  being — steps,  feeble  and  insignificant  if  viewed 
alone,  but  assuming  value  and  importance  when  con- 
sidered as  terminating  in  an  eternal  destiny.  By  such 
steps  is  each  human  course  commenced — and  such  is  the 
solemn  result  involved  in  its  mortal  termination.  The 
chief  benefit  derived  from  Christian  biography,  is  its  ex- 
hibiting 10  the  eye,  the  image  of  Christ  in  the  character 
of  his  servant ;  the  manner  in  which  that  blessed  image 
first  began  to  be  formed — and  the  various  means  and  in- 
cidents which  contributed  to  its  advancement  towards 
perfection. 

Growth  is  the  only  sure  token  of  healthy  spiritual  life. 
The  soul  has  its  winter  and  its  spring  times,  its  seasons 
of  seeming  check  and  deadncss,  and  its  seasons  of  shoot- 
ing upward  from  the  earthly  toward  the  heavenly  charac- 
ter. A  faithful  writer  remarks,  that  ''the  soul  may  sup- 
Eose  itself  acquainted  with  its  corruption  in  its  length  and 
readth,  while,  perhaps,  it  has  only  moistened  its  lips  at 
the  bitter  cup,  and  may  subsequently  be  constrained  to 
drink  much  more  of  it."  And  thus  it  is  that  the  Christian 
must  travel  the  same  path  more  than  once.  Soul  search- 
ings  must  be  renewed — repentings  require  to  be  repented 
of  Love  to  the  Mighty  Deliverer,  who  has  performed 
the  wonderful  rescue,  may  at  first  be  ardent  and  grate- 
ful— afterwards,  it  will  become  humble  and  intelligent, 
with  the  increasing  perception,  that  not  only  the  first  de- 
ciding movement  from  death  to  life,  but  each  particular 
step  of  the  journey  through  the  wilderness,  must  be 
guided  and  upheld  by  Him  who  bestows  the  tem])er  of 
strangers  and  pilgrims,  and  who  keeps  his  people  by  his 
own  power,  through  faith  unto  salvation. 

The  experienced  reader  may  find  both  pleasure  and 
improvemenL  in  tracing  the  various  seasons  of  spiritua 
1* 


vi  PREFACE. 

growtli  in  llie  sultjcct  of  this  memoir.  Should  the  exam- 
j)le  of  lier  early  pioty  awaken  any  careless  spirits  to  in- 
quire vvliy  they  have  not  yet  set  out  to  seek  the  Lord,  or 
Bhoiild  her  evident  adviuicement  in  the  divine  life,  and 
lier  trri'atly  brifrhlenin^  ij:race.=!.  as  she  drew  near  to  its 
most  unh)oked-lbr  consummation,  be  tlie  means  of  stirring 
up  any  to  examine  whetiier  their  souls  arc  slumber:ng  in 
tiie  frosts  of  winter,  or  siiootintr  vipward  in  the  breath 
ol'  pprinL"",  ihf'  writer  will  iiave  a  blessed  return  tor  the 
trial  eiidurcd  in  laying:  more  wide  a  wound  which  only 
reunion  ran  finally  close ;  and,  in  unlocking  those  foun- 
tains of  tears,  which,  iiowevcr,  have  flowed,  during  the 
conijiilation.  more  in  thankful  submission  and  gratitude, 
than  in  selfish  mournin<T.  It  becomes  her  to  own,  with 
humble  prai.^^e,  the  refreshment  that  her  own  soul  has  re- 
ceived, by  means  of  researches  i'.montr  those  remains,  a 
small  portion  of  which  is  here  tremblingly  presented. 
To  the  chosen  frii'tids  of  the  dear  departed  one.  the  book 
will  be  welcome,  for  the  love  of  herself  and  of  Him  whom 
she  sought  and  followed,  while  amongst  them.  To 
gtrantrers.  may  the  Holy  F'pirit  make  it  welcome  as  a 
meesenger  of  Peace. 


NOTE  TO  SECOND  EDITION.  ,j 

Amongst  the  various  remarks  relative  to  the  first  edition  of  this  I 
httle  Work  made  by  friendly  critics,  some  have  been  jealous  for 

the  memory  of  the  di-parted,  when  they  observe  the  very  mea-  1 

sured  exhibition  which  is  permitted,  of  her  personal  attractions,  i 

Others,  with  a  more  exalted  perception  of  spiritual  beauties,  have  | 

zealously  demanded  the  expunging  of  each  sentence  which  de-  ' 
scribed  transient  charms,  and  the  blandishments  to  which  they 

subjected  their  possessor.     To  these  last  the  author  was  most  i 

vvillin|T  to  listen,  on  the  fjround  that  the  moral  elevation  of  the  \ 

character  described  was  such  as  to  make  herself  hold  in  lif^ht  es-  ! 

tiuialioa,  what  the  worldly-minded  deemed  her  chief  excellencies,  j 

Such  passag;cs  hare  accordiuirly  been  expunged.     Yet,  after  it  i 

has  been  acconipiislu-d,  there  arises  a  question  if  it  be  just  to  con-  j 
ceal  the  degree  of  temptation  to  which  the  heart  was  exposed,  in 

consequence  of  the  thickly  strewn  attentions  and  flatteries,  not  | 

of  friends  only,  but  of  strangers.     Is  it  not  more  to  the  praise  of  I 
His  grace,  by  whom,  in  the  midst  of  snares,  she  was  preserved, 

lo  admit  that  those  snares  were  many,  complicated,  and  alluring?  ( 

It  will,  however,  be  more  in  keeping  with  the  tone  of  the  cha-  j 

racter  to  leave  what  these   were   to  conjecture.     We  therefore  j 
only  quote  in  the  Appendix  two  letters  of  condolence  for  her  loss, 
from  clergymen  who  had  opportunity   of  comparison  with  their 
own  daughters,  and  therefore  may  be  supposed  to  have  passed  the 

age  of  enthusiastic  admiration,  except  upon  strong  excitement—  i 

They  pretty  fairly  represent  the  general  impression  made  by  her  1 
appearance  and  demeanour.* 

The  privilege  is  also  yielded  of  appending  a  sketch  of  her 

character,  drawn  by  the  discriminating  school-fellow  to  wliom  so  ' 

many  of  her  letters  are  addressed. t  ' 

In  the  Appendix  will  be  found  several  poems,  not  immediate-  ' 

ly  connected  with  the  incidents  of  her  life,  which,  as  introduced  j 

ill  the  tirst  edition,  appeared  unnecessarily  to  interrupt  the  nar-  i 

rative.    Some  additional  matter,  both  in  prose   and  verse,   has  ! 
been  introduced. 

There  is  prefixed  to  this  edition  a  sweet  and  characteristic  ] 
poem  by  Mrs.  Lydia  II.  Sigourney,  who  was  admired  and  loved 

by  the  subject  of  the  memoir  (though  personally  unknown,)  and  ' 

whose  r(;cent  visit  to  Britain,  added  the  charm  of  feature  and  of  ' 
voice  to  that  acquaintance  which  had  been  formed  by  thousands 
with  her  mind,  through  the  medium  of  her  works  ;  and  perhaps 

by  none  with  greater  pleasure  than  that  parent  in  whoso  bereave-  i 

ment  r^\e  so  kindly  smypathizes.  ' 

A'liL,  1842.  , 

\ppendu,  JNo.  XXIV.                          t  Appendir  No.  XXV.  | 


STANZAS 

WRfTTEN  ON  READING  THE  MEMOIR  OF  SIRS.  MARV  LUNDIE  Dl'NCA» 

BY  MRS.  LYDIA  H.  SIGOURNEY. 

Sweet  bird  of  Scotia's  tuoeful  clime, 

So  beautiful  and  dear, 
Whose  music  giish'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  Tiviot  feeds  iier  valleys  green, 

I  cannot  think  thee  dead. 

Fair  child — whose  rich  unfoldings  gave 

A  promise  rare  and  true. 
The  parents  proudest  thoughts  to  cheer. 
And  sooth  of  widow'd  wo  the  tear, — 

Why  hid'st  thou  from  our  view  ? 

Young  bride,  whose  wildest  thrill  of  hop» 

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  k  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. 


MEMOIR 


MS.  MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN. 


CHAPTER   I. 


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  cha- 
racter of  adventure.  It  seems  an  easy  task  to  detail 
the  events  which  fill  up  the  years  of  a  patriot,  a  war- 
rior, a  philanthropist,  or  a  missionary.  Acts  of  wis- 
dom, 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  intellec- 
tual and  tender  attractions,  furnish  (ew  prominent 
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  al- 
ready 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 
the  secret  growth  of  the  heart  but  He  who  created 


10  MEMOIR    OF 

it  7  Who  can  road  the  unseen  process  of  renewing 
the  will,  except  the  Spirit  who  hath  kept  that  in  his 
own  power  ?  Instruct  w  ith  what  minute  care  you 
can, — observe  with  what  accuracy  you  may, — still 
there  is  somethin<r  in  the  workinsjs  of  the  mind  that 
eludes  the  ken  of  tlie  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  ca- 
resses, and  lifts  up  or  puts  down  her  oflspring  at  plea- 
sure, 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,  wlio  was  ac- 
customed 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  fdls  me  with  respect  V  That  babe  was  removed 
■while  still  in  infancy  ;  therefore  we  cannot  test  the 
fact  that  her  growing  years  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  j)erhaps,  on  that  account,  each  new  attain- 
ment was  marked  with  a  degree  of  ;idmiring  wonder, 
which  the  more  experienced  might  fail  to  participate  ; 
i)ut  those,  who  were  admitted  to  the  sanctuary  of  the 
nursery,  may  remember  how  often  her  benign  smiles 


MARY   LUNDiE    DUNCAN.  11 

round  her  infant  features,  to  exhibit  a  striking  resem- 
blance to  a  portrait  of  Madame  de  Guion.  The  resem- 
blance in  feature  was  probably  imaginary, — the  simi- 
larity of  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  com- 
plete when  nearest  the  close.  Her  early  love  for 
flowers, — her  delight,  even  in  the  first  years  of  child- 
hood, in  a  sun-set  sky,  and  in  vernal  breezes  ;  the 
poetry  and  music  of  her  mind,  were  not  more  in  har- 
mony with  the  character  of  that  elegant  and  amiable 
woman,  than  her  strict  self-examinations,  her  severe 
judgments  of  herself,  her  prayerfuhiess,  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  sur- 
round 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,  '  my  sweet 
bud,  born  amongst  blossoms.'  She  had  not  reached 
her  second  year  without  discerning  and  sympathizing 
in  his  passion  for  flowers  ;  and  the  cherished  enjoy- 
ment of  both  was,  that  her  tiny  hands  should  furnish 
the  primrose  which  was  to  shine  all  day  in  his  but- 
ton-hole. 

Those,  who  knew  and  loved  them  both,  will  for- 
give 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  par- 
terre, and,  unconscious  of  its  value,  snapt  its  succu- 
lent stem  with  all  her  little  force,  and  tottered  to  her 
father's  knee,  crying  out  with  lively  joy, '  Pretty  fower, 
papa ;  pretty  fower.'  The  mingling  of  regret  that 
the  splendours  of  such  a  favourite  were  cut  oflf  in  the 
midst,  with  his  admiration  of  the  taste  and  energy  of 
the  achievement  of  the  little  spoiler,  and  sympathy 
witli  ber  joy  in  making  him  such  a  gift,  were  all  ex- 


12 


MEMOIR    or 


pressed  in  turn  ;  and,  after  regrets  and  thanks,  he  re- 
sorted to  the  plan  of  cutting  the  mangled  stem  and 
placing  it  in  water,  where  it  stood  for  many  days,  shed- 
ding 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  of  death,  one  survivor  should  suddenly 
have  the  silver  tones  of  that  fair  child  recalled,  re 
peating,  '  Pretty  fower,  papa;'  and  feel  as  if  the  in 
cident  had  been  prophetic  of  her  own  early  fate  ? 

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- 
deavoring 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  scopo 
Embraces  yesterday,  but  ne'er  to-morrow. 
Yet,  thougl)  pale  memory  be  seldom  glad, 
A  truer  fonder  friend  is  she  than  hope." 

It  may  be  thought  that  the  cradle  and  the  grave  are 
here  brought  too  closely  together.  But,  for  how 
brief  a  space,  even  when  life  is  prolonged,  are  they 
ever  scA^ered?  How  often  is  their  union  complete* 
and  when  the  years  that  intervene,  be  they  many  oi 
few,  have  been  used  to  accomplish  the  two  groat  pur- 
poses of  our  being, — to  glorify  our  God  while  we  live 
and  to  enjoy  His  blessed  presence  when  we  die, — we 
need  not  shrink  from  conil)iuiiig  the  day  of  our  birth 
with  the  day  of  our  dcalli.  Many  of  the  ItMlc^rs  of 
mourning  friends,  which  that  sad  month  of  January 


MARY    LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  i'i 

f»rocluced,  referred  to  scenes  and  sports  of  infancy  and 
childhood ;  and  from  them  may  be  gleaned  reminia- 
:ences  wliich  may  escape  the  suspicion  of  undue  par- 
iallty. 

The  nurse,  whose  faithful  care  for  many  years 
iided  in  the  training  of  the  little  family,  wrote,  on 
hearing  of  Mary's  death,  "  When  I  think  of  all  her 
goodness,  when  quite  a  child,  it  is  the  gTeatest  com- 
fort 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,  and  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  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  pre- 
cious things,  which  are  stored  up  amongst  its  trea- 
sures. 

Her  reflective  habit  was  evinced  by  her  self-admo- 
nition, when  any  accident  befel  her.  If  she  dropt 
anything,  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  warning  was  productive  of  mischief.  The  man 
the  little  reflector  was  so  unusual,  so  grave, 
2 


14  MBMOIR    OF 

and  yet  so  comic,  that  "  now  1  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  diflicult  process  of 
teaching  her  brother  was  encountered,  that  the  fact 
was  ascertained  of  her  having  exhibited  unusual  ra- 
pidity 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  diflicult,  in  cir- 
cumstances where  any  injurious  book  was  easily  ex- 
cluded :  but  not  quite  so  easy  was  it  to  deprive  indul- 
gent friends  of  the  delight  of  pouring  into  her  willing 
ears  the  tales  she  was  most  glad  to  listen  to.  The 
eff'ect  of  these  on  her  early  childhood  was  visible  in- 
stantly, so  that  a  story  of  a  good  little  girl,  whose 
goodness  seemed  to  consist  of  her  glossy  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  f.xception  of  herself  and  "i  '  si  >^  r  one  of  whom 
as  yet  have  been  called  to  !  ...  »,    '  -■:  ter  from  her 

father  describes  her  bringing  .n  h^jr  L.:  brother  and 
sister  to  the  breakfast  table,  wreathed  round  and 
raund  with  flowers  of  her  weaving,  and  called  by  her 
"  ivygods,"  in  honour  of  the  jubilee  of  the  expected 


MARy   LUNDIE    DUNCAN,  15 

return  of  their  mother,  after  a  brief  absence,  i.l  the 
midst  of  her  joyful  preparations,  a  letter  was  brought, 
stating  that  the  return  was  delayed,  when,  instead  of 
grieving  or  losing  temper  at  her  disappointment,  she 
instantly  addressed  herself  to  console  and  amuse  the 
little  ones  with  her  usual  sweetness.  Another  letter 
describes  "  Mary  as  melted  with  a  story  about  the  sor- 
rows of  life,  and  quite  up  in  the  air,  and  full  of  poetry 
and  sentiment,  about  may-day  gambols."  The  date 
of  this  letter  being  February,  1821,  she  was  not  then 
seven  years  of  age. 

These  exhibitions  of  her  early  excitability  are  not 
named  to  prove  precocity  of  talent.  Perhaps  many 
girls  are  more  advanced  than  she  was.  The  object  is 
rather  to  alford  an  opportunity  of  showing  the  mea- 
sures adopted  to  prevent  her  imagination  from  out- 
growing and  injuring  her  other  mental  powers.  This 
was  done  not  by  forcing  didactic  lectures  on  her, 
which  would  have  wearied  without  instructing,  or 
more  likely  have  let  her  attention  loose  from  her 
lesson,  to  wander  over  the  very  regions  from  which  it 
was  desirable  she  should  be  withdrawn  ;  but  by  giv- 
ing her  histories  from  real  life.  Scripture  and  others, 
within  her  comprehension,  such  as,  "  The  True  Story 
Book,"  which  is  the  delight  of  unsophisticated  children, 
and  by  talking  to  her  always,  from  infancy,  as  if  she 
were  a  reasonable  being.  If  she  had  imagination 
enough  to  enkindle  her  sympathies  on  the  side  of  the 
modest  young  lady,  of  whom  she  was  told  by  a  tale- 
telling  friend,  that  she  went  to  the  ball  in  simple 
white,  with  a  lily  in  her  hair,  when  all  the  rest  were 
sparkling  in  diamonds,  &c.  Sic,  she  had  also  good 
sense  enough  to  perceive,  when  it  was  pointed  out  to 
her,  that  the  "  simple  white  and  lily"  were  not  points 
of  radical  difference,  and  that  if  the  occupation  and 
mind  were  equally  vain,  it  mattered  little  whether  the 
parties  were  decked  in  stones  or  in  flowers. 

The  Sabbath  evening  occupations  are  still  remem- 


16 


MEMOIR    OF 


bered  with  sweet  satisfaction  by  such  of  the  now  far 
dispersed  little  company  as  are  alive,  and  remain  , — 
and,  perhaps,  to  describe  them  may  not  be  without 
its  use.  After  reciting  the  questions  which  had  been 
acquired  before  morning  hours  of  public  worship, 
Watts'  infant  catechism  being  the  first,  the  children 
repeated,  in  turn,  what  verse  of  a  hymn  they  could, 
and  all  sung  it  together  ;  and  still  the  dying  cadences 
of  those  young,  but  well-tuned  voices,  hang  on  memo- 
ry's ear,  and  still  the  happy  coimtenance  of  that  one 
whose  privilege  it  was  to  select  the  hymn  is  seen  by 
the  mind's  eye.  Then,  in  turn,  they  repeated  any 
text  they  knew,  and  questioned  each  other  on  its  mean- 
ing, as  had  been  done  to  them  when  first  they  learned 
it ;  and,  when  all  this  was  accomplished,  they  con- 
sidered themselves  entitled  to  ask  for  a  "  Sunday 
story."  After  being  indulged  in  this,  the  story  formed 
subject  of  inquiry  and  discussion,  and  Scripture 
proof  wherein  the  actors  in  the  story  done  wrong  or 
right.  The  stories  were  not  from  scripture  history 
generally,  but  anecdotes  picked  up  every  where.  All 
this  having  taken  place  before  the  system  of  infant 
school  teaching  was  introduced,  seemed,  to  some,  im- 
practicable in  a  company  of  babes  ;  but  experience 
justified  the  plan,  and  sufficient  evidence  is  now  hap- 
pily furnished  in  every  town,  that  the  infant  mind  is 
capable  of  acquiring,  retaining,  and  applying  a  great 
variety  of  knowledge.  Already  did  little  Mary  begin 
to  exercise  an  influence  in  her  circle,  for,  if  the 
leader  of  the  band  was  withdrawn  for  a  time,  she  was 
always  found  repeating  an  old  "  Sunday  story"  that 
she  remember*'. I,  or  inducing  the  rest  to  sing,  or  say 
their  texts  to  her.  These  exercises,  in  some  part  of 
which  prayer  was  introduced,  would  occupy  us  all 
for  two  hours,  without  a  shade  of  weariness,  and 
seem  to  dispel  the  difficulty  which  many  pious  pa- 
rents express  of  keeping  their  children  suitably  em- 
ployed on  the  Lord's  day.     They  were  not  kej)!  from 


MARY    LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  17 

weariness  by  allowing  them  to  return  to  the  nursery 
to  their  toys ;  for  a  regular  occupation  of  {Saturday 
night  was  to  put  all  these  away,  and  except  a  picture 
Bible,  they  had  not,  or  ever  sought  for,  a  Sabbatb 
amusement. 

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

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

Inexperienced  instructors  are  accused  of  being  un- 
necessarily  strict  disciplinarians,  and  there  is  much 
weight  in  the  French  maxim,  '■'■  j)as  trap  gouverner." 
To  cast  occupations  in  the  way  of  children,  and 
leave  them  to  pursue  their  natural  selection  ;  to  guide 
and  restrain,  but  not  to  dictate  in  matters  of  amuse  • 
ment,  leaves  more  play  to  the  taste  and  genius,  and 
generally  gives  more  zest  to  enjoyment. 
2* 


lo  MEMOIR    OF 

This  firstling  of  the  flock  required  teaching,  as  she 
had  no  example  of  older  children  ;  but  so  ductile  waa 
her  mind,  and  so  flexible  her  disposition,  and  so  mi- 
serable was  she  at  the  idea  of  having  done  wrong, 
that  she  required  less  restraining  than  most  children ; 
and  the  experience  of  later  years  seems  to  point  out, 
that  she  might  have  been  disciplined  through  all  her 
childhood,  without  the  use  of  punishment  at  all.  On 
one  occasion,  when,  for  some  Ihtlc  fault,  she  was  put 
behind  the  sofa,  under  sentence  of  remaining  there 
for  ten  minutes,  her  anguisli  and  her  tears  were  mis- 
taken for  a  fit  of  passion  in  their  bitterness  ;  and  she 
was  told  that  if  she  did  not  command  herself  and  be 
quiet,  she  should  remain  there  double  the  time.  She 
still  stretched  her  little  arms  and  sobbed  out,  "  Forgive 
me !  O  forgive  me  !"  and  when  asked  how  she  could 
expect  to  be  forgiven  while  she  cried  and  wanted 
to  come  out,  she  at  last  was  able  to  explain,  that,  were 
she  but  forgiven,  she  would  stay  there  quietly  all  day 
if  she  was  told.  This  is  a  sample  of  her  general 
disposition  ;  the  idea  of  having  oflended  her  parents, 
and,  above  all,  of  having  sinned  against  God,  in- 
flicted from  earliest  childhood,  the  keenest  misery  on 
her  sensitive  mind.  Though  her  tears  flowed  so 
readily  on  subjects  that  wounded  feeling,  she  could 
endure  a  considerable  amount  of  bodily  pain  without 
complaint.  On  one  occasion  while  being  chased 
round  the  room  by  an  orphan  girl,  who,  for  a  time, 
found  a  home  in  the  manse,  Mary  fell  against  the  cor- 
ner of  a  brass-nailed  chair,  and  had  a  long  gash 
made  in  her  plump  cheek.  The  stream  of  blood 
which  quickly  stained  her  clothes,  the  tears  of  the 
[loor  girl  who  caused  the  mischief,  and  the  anxious 
countenances  of  all  the  circle,  in  addition  to  her  own 
sufl'ering,  drew  no  tears  from  her.  The  friendly  old 
family  surgeon  finished  his  task  of  clasping  the 
wound,  by  saying,  "  There  my  little  lass,  I  hope  that 
will  heal,  without  marring  your  beauty."     The  child 


MARY    Lt'NDIE    DUNCAN.  19 

replied,  with  her  native  politeness,  "  Thank  you,  sir," 
and,  then  turning  to  the  nurse,  on  whose  knee  she 
was  held,  she  said,  in  a  confidential  sotto  voice,  "  That 
is  a  cebber  (clever)  doctor." 

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

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

Her  constitution  seemed  to  be  constructed  with  a 
feverish  tendency ;  for  several  times,  at  intervals  of 
years,  she  had  serious  attacks  of  fever :  and  in  this, 
her  first  visit  of  that  disease,  she  seemed  as  near  the 
brink  of  the  grave  as  she  ever  seemed  in  her  last,  till 
within  a  brief  period  of  her  spirit's  being  set  free. 
Days  and  nights  of  watching  were  passed,  when  hei 
faculties  were  shut  up  from  those  around  her.  She 
did  not  speak,  and  saw  very  imperfectly  ;  she  could 
not  swallow,  and  was  conjectured  not  to  hear.  Yet, 
when  her  strength  came  again,  she  mentioned  that  she 
heard,  and  sometimes  was  able  to  give  her  attention 
to  what  was  said, — that  whispering  in  the  room  dis- 
turbed and  irritated  her  more  than  speaking  in  the 
natural  voice, — that  she  often  was  comforted  by  the 
prayers  which  were  offered  by  her  bed,  and  she  was 
tlad  if  a  hymn  or  text  were  repeated,  and  grieved 


2C  MEMOin.    OF 

that  she  coiihl  make  no  si^n  to  indicate  that  she 
wishe^l  for  more.  Amongst  other  things  which 
reached  her  watchful  mind,  she  name!  her  gladness 
when  she  understood  that  a  dear  Christian  brother, 
who  prei\ched,  was  to  pray  for  her  in  church.  She 
also  understood  a  conference  between  her  medical  at- 
tendants, who  discussed  by  her  bed  the  improl)ability 
of  her  surviving  the  night,  and  (lookers  on  might  weli 
liave  been  surprised,  had  they  known  the  cfiect  of  this 
medical  opinion,)  felt  in  herself  that  they  were  mis- 
taken, for  she  was  not  dying !  From  these  circum- 
stances, lessons  may  be  drawn  by  those  who  are 
about  the  sick  ;  not  that  they  are  new,  for  they  have 
been  urged  and  laid  down  many  a  time  in  medical 
books,  but  in  most  cases  they  are  not  practised.  First, 
that  whispering  excites  nervous  irritation  and  suspi- 
cion in  the  patient.  Second,  that  the  sick,  whether 
they  seem  to  hear  or  to  have  perfect  command  of  their 
intellectual  powers  or  not,  ought  invariably  to  be 
dealt  with  as  if  they  had,  in  all  that  is  said  within 
their  hearing.  And,  third,  that  words  of  comfort  and 
instruction,  such  words  as  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  has 
furnished  us  with,  ought  still  to  be  poured  into  ears, 
which,  for  aught  we  know,  are  not  xniconscious,  and 
that  prayer  ought  to  be  made  not  only  for  but  with 
them. 

After  many  days  of  keen  suffering,  and  of  intellec- 
tual seclusion,  the  little  patient  was  revived,  and  the 
more  hojKiful  task  was  vouchsafed  to  her  nurses,  to 
strengthen  and  raise  her  up  again.  She  very  soon 
asked  to  be  read  to,  and  would  have  listened  more 
than  her  feebleness  rendered  it  safe  to  allow  ;  and 
weak  though  her  eyes  were,  she  used  herself  to  read 
with  avidity  a  book  consisting  of  meditations  and 
hymns  adapted  to  the  capacity  of  childhood,  and  ex- 
hibiting the  "  Good  Shepherd,"  in  terms  somewhat 
suited  to  his  gracious  office  and  tfcnder  care.  She 
would  not  trust  any  one  to  remove  this  favourite  little 


MARY    LUNDIE   DUNCAN.  21 

book  out  of  her  reach,  but  hid  it  under  her  pillow, 
when,  from  fatigue,  she  could  read  no  more.  At  this 
lime,  she  said  nothing  to  her  friends  about  her  serious 
impressions,  warmly  as  her  heart  went  out  to  them  ; 
but  her  love  for  religious  converse,  and  her  own  per- 
sonal share  in  what  she  had  opportunity  to  listen 
to  of  the  experience  of  her  seniors,  might  be  con- 
jectured from  the  frequent  te-ars,  and  the  expression 
of  tender  anxiety  in  her  wan  but  sweet  countenance. 

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

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

From  about  this  time,  when  the  business  of  instruc- 
tion was  set  about  in  earnest,  the  services  of  a  tutor 
were  engaged,  and  the  education  of  the  family  con- 
ducted without  distinction  of  sex,  in  the  subjects  to 


22  MEMOIR    OF 

which  their  minds  were  applied  ;  and  Mary,  as  tho 
elder,  led  the  van  in  every  lesson.  By  and  by  she 
was  permitted  daily  to  pass  an  hour  or  two  with  two 
Christian  friends,  at  her  needle,  in  addition  to  her 
other  lessons,  and  to  them  she  occasionally  betrayed 
more  of  the  working  of  her  heart  than  she  could  do 
to  her  parents.  For  example,  she  asked  why  it  was 
that  when  she  had  an  earnest  desire  to  pray,  and 
went  to  her  knees,  she  could  not.  The  child  seemed 
distressed  about  it,  and  felt  it  a  burden. 

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

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

It  is  not  easy  to  say  at  w  hat  date  her  relish  for  the 


MARY   LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  23 

beauties  of  nature  was  enhanced,  by  looking  beyond 
them  to  the  power  and  munificence  of  the  God  of 
creation,  combined  with  the  compassion  and  love  of 
the  God  of  redemption.  Iler  early  attempts  at  no- 
ting with  her  pen  the  thoughts  of  her  heart,  exhibit 
the  play  of  poetic  imagery  and  sentiment,  together 
with  efforts  at  reflection  and  sober  views  of  existence 
beyond  this  world. 

The  following  verses  have  been  recently  found  m 
a  box  of  juvenile  keep-sakes,  and  similar  treasurer 
Judging  by  the  writing,  they  may  be  referred  to  h^r 
eleventh  or  twelfth  year  : — 

"  How  sweet  are  those  delightful  dreams, 
That  charm  in  youtii's  first  days  of  bloom  ! 

And  sweet  those  radiant  sunshine  gleams, 
That  wander  Ihroujjh  surrounding  gloom, 

And  bright  are  fancy's  fairy  bowers, 

And  sweet  the  flowers  that  round  she  fling 

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

But  ah  !  there  is  a  land  above. 

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

Wliere  night  is  lost  in  endless  day. 

And  in  the  blare  of  that  blest  day, 

All  earthly  bowers  we  deemed  so  bright 

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

Why  should  my  soul  so  fondly  cling 

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

Its  raptures  ail  my  love  engage. 

Why  should  my  spirit  fear  to  die  ? 

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

My  eyes  shall  then  forget  to  weep. 

O  !  for  faith's  bright  and  eagle  eye. 

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

To  worlds  unknown  by  lapse  of  year* 


24 


MEMOIR.   OF 


Then  should  the  toys  that  tempt  me  now, 

From  my  enraptured  bosom  fly ; 
In  faith  and  grace  my  soul  should  grow, 

Till  death  be  lost  in  victory." 

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

"  IMAOINATION& 

"  I've  imaged  a  land  where  flowers  are  growing 

In  pristine  sweetness  all  the  year, 
And  purest  cystal  streams  are  flowing. 

And  sunbeams  kiss  the  waters  clear. 

Where  music's  voice,  the  hours  beguiling. 

Comes  floatin  gon  the  summer  air  ; 
Where  beaming  suns  are  mildly,  smiling. 

And  cloudless  skies  are  ever  fair. 

But  darkness  here  the  daylight  closes. 

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

While  joy  is  round  us,  grief  is  nigh. 

0  !  were  I  in  that  land  of  gladness 
I've  imaged  fair  within  my  breast. 

Then  farewell  to  grief  and  sadness, 
Welcome  soul-refreshing  rest. 

Within  the  leafy  grot  reclining. 

While  balmy  breezes  round  me  played, 

1  gazed  on  scenes  all  brightly  shining, 

With  nought  to  make  my  heart  afraid. 

My  heart  should  rise,  with  nature  blending 

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

To  make  my  soul  all  melody." 

The  very  severe  and  protracted  indispostdw  f  a 
sister  three  years  younger  than  herself,^  wtikCh.  de- 
prived the  family,  for  many  months,  of  all  ftia.>.rnal 
superintendence,  extended  a  double  gloom  over  the 
house  of  mourning.  The  children  were  all  suffering 
from  hooping-cough  at  the  time  that  her  sister  was 
first  deprived  of  the  use  of  her  limbs,  and  then,  for 


MARY    LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  25 

some  months,  of  sight,  by  inflammation  in  the  brain 
and  spine.  Poor  Mary  faded,  and  lost  appetite  Jhv 
by  day ;  and,  at  the  hour  of  the  medical  visit,  whc! 
the  dear  sufferer's  eyes  were  bandaged,  that  the  iiatii 
of  a  candle  might  be  introduced  to  the  chamh«' 
wtiich  at  all  other  times  was  in  a  state  of  midnight 
darkness,  it  was  mournful  to  remark,  as  the  little 
group  crowded  around  that  bed  of  anguish,  that  Mary's 
cheek  was  pale  and  her  eye  dim;  and  while  the 
younger  sought  to  say  something  cheering  to  the  dear 
sufTerer,  she  could  only  shrink  behind  the  curtain  to 
shroud  her  tears.  It  was,  therefore,  found  neces- 
sary to  send  her  away  from  the  scene  ;  and  she  wa» 
indebted  for  a  home  to  sympathizing  and  intelligeni 
relatives,  who  cheered  her,  without  leading  her  t& 
forget  those  in  whose  distresses  it  became  her  to  par- 
take. 

The  house-keeper  in  that  family  lately  expressed,, 
with  tears,  her  loving  remembrance  of  the  little  guest; 
and  said,  that  a  girl  of  her  own  age,  who  had  been 
invited  as  her  companion,  remarked  to  her,  "  Mary, 
you  always  pray  out  of  your  own  mind  ;  but  I  say 
the  prayers  my  mamma  has  taught  me."  She  repli- 
3d,  "  Anna,  if  I  were  to  do  that,  how  could  I  ask  for 
what  I  need  from  God  1"  This  little  circumstance 
gives  evidence  that  prayer  was  with  her  experienced 
10  be  real  intercourse  with  her  Father  in  heaven. 

No  juvenile  letters  appear  connected  with  that  pe- 
riod, when  the  rod  of  the  holy  God  was  laid  so- 
sharply  on  her  house  ;  but  the  impression  left  on  the 
bereaved  circle,  when  it  was  removed,  and  the  re- 
doubled zeal  and  sweetness  of  Mary  in  regard  to  di- 
vine thingj,  were  conspicuous.  Her  return  to  the 
Sabbath-school,  in  her  mourning  garb,  and  re-occu- 
pying her  place,  with  a  solemn  view  of  her  responsi- 
bility for  the  use  of  each  Sabbath,  while  the  place  of 
her  dear  sister  was  filled  by  another,  was  observed 
to  be  with  her  a  time  of  increased  prayer  and 
3 


26  Mr.-MOIR    OF 

watchfulness  ;  and  the  idea  of  a  sister  dwelling  in 
the  presence  of  Jesus,  seemed  to  sublimate  her 
thoughts,  and  give  her  a  sedateness  that  never  left 
her  again. 

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

The  next  winter  she,  with  trembling  and  humble 
anxiety,  asked  if  she  might  be  counted  worthy  to  ap- 
proach the  table  of  the  Lord.  Her  father  told  her 
that  he  hoped  and  believed  that  she  loved  her  Lord 
tiow,  and  as  the  communion  is  an  ordinance  in  which 
he  reveals  himself  to  those  who  love  him,  he  saw  no 
reason  why  she  should  be  held  back  on  account  of 
age,  and  he  trusted  she  would  be  strengthened  to  per- 
severance by  partaking  of  it.  She  then  requested  to 
be  permitted  to  share  in  the  instructions  of  a  faithful 
friend  of  her  father,  hoping  for  more  guidance,  as  she 
f(!lt  that  her  parents  had  already  told  her  all  they 
could  on  the  affecting  subject.  This  request  was 
most  cordially  acceded  to,  and  she  passed  some  time 
in  the  family  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hunter,  then  of  Swin 
ton.  She  returned  from  those  aflectionate  friends 
and  faithful  servants  of  the  Lord,  accompanied  by  ex- 


MARY    LUXDIK   DUNCAN.  27 

pressions  of  increased  love,  on  their  part,  and  of  de- 
iiglit  with  her  (Uictility,  and  congratulations  to  her 
parents  on  having  received  from  God  the  gift  of  such 
a  child. 

While  aosent  she  wrote  little  notes,  which  exhibit 
the  state  of  her  mind : — "  I  fear  I  am  not  sufficiently 
anxious  about  preparing ;  but  earnestly  desire  to  be 
more  so.  Please  write  to  me  soon  and  stir  me  up.  1 
know  you  pray  for  me." — "  I  hope  to  have  a  letter  from 
you.  Oh!  I  feel  that  I  do  not  love  God  enough.  I 
feel  that  I  am  very  sinful,  and  backward  in  laying 
down  my  burden  at  the  foot  of  my  Redeemer's  cross. 
But  I  desire  to  love  God.  I  feel  that,  if  1  had  no 
hope  in  him,  I  should  be  miserable  indeed.  0  !  I 
cannot  think  what  there  is  in  the  world  that  makes  us 
so  ready  to  do  as  our  wicked  adversary  bids  us,  rather 
than  to  follow  after  our  Lord,  who  hath  first  loved  us .  But 
still  /  know  that  God  will  not  leave  me  to  myself.  He 
knows  the  most  secret  thoughts  of  my  heart,  and 
knows  the  way  to  purify  me  to  himself.  '  He  has 
seen  my  ways  and  will  heal  me.  Having  loved  his 
own,  he  will  love  them  to  the  end ;  he  will  not  suffer 
his  faithfulness  to  fail.'  " — "  When  I  come  home,  you 
will  counsel  me,  and  lead  me  closer  to  my  God.  O 
how  I  wish  for  a  closer  walk  with  God  !  and  I  know 
that  in  his  own  good  time  he  will  grant  me  this  de- 
sire of  my  heart  I" 

No  written  memorial  of  this  affecting  point  in  the 
young  Christian's  pilgrimage  appears,  but  it  dwells  in 
memory  as  a  time  of  much  tenderness  of  spirit,  and 
mutual  prayer,  and  one  remarkable  result  experienced 
by  her  earthly  guardians  was,  that  she  seemed  now 
devoted  and  sealed  an  heir  of  God,  and  joint-heir 
with  Christ ;  so  that,  although,  as  still  in  the  vvilder- 
ness,  she  continued  an  object  of  tender  care  and  anx- 
iety, yet  the  great  matter  was  settled.  The  good 
work  was  not  only  clearly  begun  in  her  soul,  but  ad- 
vancing steadily  ;  and  her  gracious  God  to  whom  she 


28  MEMOIil    OF 

had  given  herself,  was  pledged  to  carry  it  on  till  the 
day  of  the  Lord  Jesus. 

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

"  INVOCATION. 

"  Ye  gentle  muses,  I  invoke  your  aid  ; 

Ye  dwellers  in  Parnassus,  hear  my  prayer: 
To  tune  your  lyre  assist  a  simple  maid, 

And  make  her  numbers  your  peculiar  care." 


"  The  winds  and  waves  were  softly  sighing 
Over  the  billowy  heaving  main  ; 

The  sea-bird  was  all  wildly  crying, 
And  soaring  o'er  the  watery  plain. 

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

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

Imprisoned  in  this  darksome  dwelling, 

There  lay  a  lady  and  a  child : 
Her  bosom  was  with  sorrow  swelling  ; 

And  thus  she  spake  in  accents  wild : 

With  grief,  my  son,  my  heart  is  breaking. 

For  fast  we're  drifting  to  the  tomb, 
While  thou  thy  sweet  repose  art  taking, 
Unmindful  of  our  coming  doom. 


MAIIY    LUT^DIE    DUNCAN.  29 

•  How  canst  thou  lie  in  breathing  slumber 

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

*  Thou  heedest  not  the  wild  waves  moaning 

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

'  Thou,  who  with  pleasure  used  to  hearken, 
And  make  my  will,  thy  law,  by  choice, 

Would'st  now,  when  tempests  round  us  darken, 
Attend,  if  thou  could'st  hear  my  voice. 

*  Ah  I  still  unconscious  press  thy  pillow. 

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

•  My  soul,  my  heart,  is  rending — breaking  ; 

Be  still,  my  wo, — be  still,  be  still  ! 
In  deep,  deep  sleep  that  knows  no  waking. 
Be  sunk,  ye  phantoms,  all  of  ill !' ' 

In  the  selection  of  texts  to  be  learned  as  one  of  the 
early  nursery  exercises,  there  had  been  a  view,  from 
the  first,  to  such  as  could  be  most  usefully  employed 
in  prayer  ;  and  as  soon  as  the  mind  was  strengthened 
sufficiently  to  apply  them,  the  children  were  accus- 
tomed to  compose  prayers  by  the  combination  of  one, 
two,  or  three  of  these  texts  in  the  form  of  petitions ; 
so  that  prayers  were  dictated  by  those  who  could  not 
write,  and  were  written  in  all  the  initiatory  stages  of 
penmanship.  Except  the  Lord's  prayer,  thev  were 
scarcely  taught  anything  approaching  to  a  form,  from 
the  conviction,  that  the  habit  of  exerting  the  mind  to 
discover  its  own  wants,  and  to  employ  the  continually 
increasing  store  of  scripture  in  seeking  for  their  sup- 
ply, was  a  likely  way  to  ward  ofl'  heedlessness  and 
formality  in  this  holy  exercise.  After  being  exer- 
cised in  this  manner  for  a  while,  they  were  gradually 
3* 


30 


MEMOIR    OF 


brought  to  pray  in  turn  on  some  part  of  the  Sabbath 
day,  and  tliey  who  devised  the  little  plan,  have  reason 
to  praise  Him  wlio  givelh  the  increase,  for  he  shed 
on  it  the  dew  of  his  blessing.  The  want  of  this  spe- 
cies of  training,  forms,  in  many,  an  impediment  to 
social  usefulness  for  life  ;  they  may  pray  with  the 
spirit,  but  for  want  of  practice  they  are  constrained  to 
be  silent  when  it  would  be  for  edification  that  they 
should  speak  ;  and,  while  it  is  readily  conceded  that 
fluency  does  not  necessarily  insure  spiritual  prayer, 
it  must  also  be  admitted  that  spiritual  prayer  without 
utterance,  is  not  capable  of  being  helpful  and  consol- 
itary  to  others. 

How  many  a  sick  person  is  visited  in  the  spirit  of 
Christian  love,  hut  (piitted  with  a  feeling  of  imperfec' 
cion  in  the  performance  of  the  duty,  because  the 
blessing  of  llis  spirit,  who  alone  can  make  good 
council  to  grow,  has  not  been  invoked.  How  many  s 
class  for  instruction  is  opened  and  closed  withou' 
prayer,  which,  when  sincerely  offered,  acts  as  a  frame- 
work or  enclosure  to  hedge  in  the  good  seed,  and 
shelter  it  from  the  birds  of  the  air  that  are  so  ready  to 
carry  it  away.  Were  the  teachers  or  visitors  of  the 
pick  habituated  from  early  days  to  fashion  petitions 
for  themselves,  and  to  pray  with  members  of  their 
own  family  occasionally,  all  embarrassment  would  be 
avoided,  and  one  temptation  to  the  omission  of  this 
duty  would  be  removed.  This  subject  is  dwelt  on  with 
the  more  earnestness,  because,  in  these  times  of  ra- 
pid movement,  when  families  quit  thei-r  scenes  of 
.study  to  be  suddenly  scattered  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth,  their  own  consolation  and  stedfastness,  and 
their  means  of  usefulness  to  others,  caimot  fail  to  be 
promoted  by  readiness  in  prayer.  By  this  gift  they 
may  have  tlie  honor  to  assist  in  hastening  tlie  latter- 
day  glorii'S  ;  wiihout  it  tliey  may  be  obliged  to  see 
llieir  brother  have  need  of  spiritual  aid,  and  stand  si- 
lent by. 


MEMOIR   OF  31 

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

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

"  Believe  me,  dear  ladies,  tho'  long  I've  delayed 

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

How  pure  is  its  substance  !  how  brightly  it  shines! 

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

Since  it  comes  as  a  pledge  of  affection  and  love. 

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

U  tells  the  swift  moments,  as  onward  they  flow 
In  the  stillness  3f  night  and  the  bustle  of  day. 


32 


MEMOm   OF 


And  thirty  years  past  (passing  strange  does  it  seem,) 
It  number'd  the  hours  as  tiiey  fleeted  away  ; 

Before  I  beheld  the  fair  day's  cheering  beam, 
Its  voice  was  the  same  as  I  hear  it  to-day. 

Ah  !  'tis  a  reproof  to  fond  man's  foolish  care. 
Who  treasures  for  earth  as  his  ultimate  joy, 

That  the  gay  and  the  lovely,  the  bright  and  the  fair, 
To  memory  are  lost,  before  this  little  toy. 

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

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

And  esteem  sacred  wisdom  more  precious  than  mirth. 

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

Enjoy  the  repose  that  religion  ensures  ; 

Peace  and  comfort  be  with  you— dear  ladies,  farewell !" 


MARY   LXraDLE   DUNCAN.  33 


CHAPTER    II, 


SCHOOL    DAYS. 


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

This  was  remarkably  verified  in  the  first  year  that 
Mary  was  separated  from  her  family.  It  was  with 
trembling  and  prayerful  anxiety  that  the  resolution 
was  come  to  of  parting  with  one  so  lovely,  so  sensi- 
tive, and  so  reflecting ;  and  the  selection  of  the 
school  to  which  she  was  to  be  entrusted  was  a  sub- 
ject of  the  most  anxious  care.  But,  at  the  end  of  one 
year,  when  that  school  was  permanently  closed,  the 
purposes  for  which  she  had  been  placed  there,  seemed 


34  MEMOIR    OF 

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

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

*'  London,  Jan.  5,  1830. 

"  I  have  been  tolerably  happy  at  school.  For  the 
^rst  few  weeks,  indeed,  I  was  very  miserable.     I  felt 


MARV    LHNDIE    DUNCAN.  35 

inys.jlf  for  the  first  time  among  total  strangers.  When 
mamma  left  me,  and  I  looked  round  and  saw  not  one  by 
whom  I  was  loved,  or  for  whom  I  myself  had  any 
regard — when  I  found  my  minutest  actions  criticised, 
and  my  words  repeated,  I  did  fear  that  I  should  have 

nothing   but  unhappiness.      Miss    B ,    the   lady 

wht)m  mamma  and  I  saw  the  first  time  we  called, 
had  taken  a  fancy  to  me,  and  having  a  poetic  imagi 
nation,  had,  with  the  intention  of  inspiring  all  the 
girls  with  love  for  me,  given  them  a  most  enthusiastie 
and  mistaken  description ;  so  that,  as  was  quite  natu- 
ral, they  expected  something  more  than  usually  ex- 
cellent,— one  who  would  be  superior  to  them  all,  and 
in  vvhom  they  should  discover  very  few  faults.  This 
was  not  unmingled  with  envy.  Consequently,  when 
they  saw  a  poor  sorrowful  girl,  quite  unaccustomed  to 
school  tricks  and  school  girls,  they  were  disappointed, 

imagined  that  Miss  B had  unjustly  preferred  me, 

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

Many  of  the  causes  of  persecution  were  also  sub- 
jects of  envy, — such  as  writing  uninspected  letters  ; 
possessing  a  desk,  with  the  privilege  of  locking  up 
her  treasures  in  it ;  discovering  by  accident  that  she 
understood  Latin,  an  enormity  which  poor  Mary,  in 
her  simplicity,  had  no  suspicion  could  offend  ;  the 
possession  of  a  miniature  of  her  mother  ;  and,  above 
all,  her  having  been  caught  in  the  perpetration  of  such 
a  breach  of  esprit  de  corps,  as  to  look  on  it  in  her  own 
room,  with  the  tear  in  her  eye.  These,  and  such  things 
as  these,  which  proved  that  the  culprit  had  "  a  world 


30 


MEMOIR    OF 


elsewhere,"  which  she  preferred  to  the  society  of  her 
present  associates,  were  offences  sufficient  to  bring  on 
her  inexperienced  and  devoted  head,  a  succession  of 
petty  vexations  and  annoyances,  which,  in  the  ins-u- 
lated  microcosm  of  a  boarding-school,  were  enough 
to  afflict  her  spirit.  It  was  the  means  of  leading  her 
to  seek  guidance  and  support  in  prayer  ;  and  the  dis- 
cipline of  heart  which  cost  her  so  much  pain,  teach- 
ing her  to  turn  away  wrath  by  a  soft  answer,  to  over- 
look wilful  endeavours  to  place  her  in  a  false  position 
with  tlie  governess,  and  to  pray  for  those  who  did  so, 
without  either  scorning  their  contempt  or  courting 
their  favour,  was  blest  to  her  for  her  remaining  years. 
In  the  home  where  she  was  beloved  and  cherished, 
she  could  not  have  encountered  such  circumstances  ; 
and  here  was  visible  the  master  hand  taking  upon 
himself  the  education  of  this  dear  child,  in  his  own 
blessed  way,  but  in  a  manner  which  could  not  fail 
to  be  distressing  to  her  parents,  when  they  disco- 
vered it. 

An  incident  puerile  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  with- 
out, but  capable  of  exciting  a  considerable  sensation 
within  a  boarding-school,  developed  her  character  and 
purposes,  in  a  way  that  turned  the  tide  in  her  favour. 
The  spirit  of  frolic,  or  the  pleasantness  of  eating 
bread  in  secret,  had  tempted  the  young  people  to  en- 
list the  cook  (whose  integrity  they  had  means  to  turn 
aside,)  in  their  service,  to  purchase  for  them  a  variety 
of  cakes,  which  were  to  be  enjoyed  in  an  upper 
chamber,  when  the  seniors  of  the  establishment  sup- 
posed them  to  have  retired  to  rest.  One  young  lady, 
who  had  so  far  dared  to  judge  for  herself  as  not  to 
join  in  any  act  of  persecution  against  this  lonely 
being,  entreated  her  to  engage  in  the  scheme.  She 
urged  her  by  the  inotive,  that  if  she  did  not,  it  would 
only  render  her  more  unpopular  ;  that  the  rest  ex- 
pected, if  she  did  not,  she  would  certainly  betray 
them  ;  that  the  cook  would  lose  her  place,  &c.  &.a 


MARY    LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  37 

In  short,  in  the  form  of  the  tempter,  she  made  it  ap- 
pear that  the  only  amiable  and  safe  mode  was  to  fol- 
low the  multitude  to  do  evil.  Mary  was  enabled 
steadily  to  resist,  and  was  left  alone  in  her  chamber, 
by  the  gentle  girl  who  had  urged  her,  and  who  was  her- 
self so  convinced  by  her  arguments,  that  what  they 
did  was  wrong,  that  she  only  joined  the  revellers 
above  staiis,  from  the  fear  of  sharing  in  Mary's  per- 
secution if  she  stayed  with  her.  After  the  secret 
banquet  was  over,  the  same  kind  friend  brought  a  por- 
tion of  the  spoil  to  the  bed  where  poor  Mary  lay  in 
tears.  She  urged  her  to  accept  of  her  dainties,  she 
even  pressed  a  bunch  of  grapes  against  her  feverish 
lips,  but  she  steadily  declined  to  taste  them.  Her 
conduct  excited  great  alarm  in  the  little  band,  who  saw 
a  fair  occasion  afforded  of  vengeance  for  all  their 
wrongs,  by  a  simple  statement  of  the  truth.  But 
when  some  days  past,  and  the  same  quiet  deportment 
was  observed,  neither  threat  nor  inuendo  exciting 
their  fears,  first  one,  then  another,  became  convinced 
of  their  injustice  and  unkindness.  Time  after  time, 
she  found  notes  of  apology,  and  overtures  of  recon- 
ciliation slipped  into  her  work-box ;  and  at  length  the 
most  adverse  threw  down  the  weapons  of  their  petty 
warfare,  and  sought  her  friendship  ; — thus  verifying, 
in  their  confined  circle,  the  saying  of  the  wise  man, 
"  When  a  man's  ways  please  the  Lord,  he  causeth 
even  his  enemies  to  be  at  peace  with  him." 

As  the  holidays  approached,  anxiety  about  the 
awarding  of  prizes  arose  to  a  great  height  Mary 
Lundie  received  the  premium  for  general  Christian 
and  lady-like  deportment,  by  a  great  majority  of  marks ; 
and,  when  another  pupil  received  the  music-prize, 
about  which  there  had  at  one  time  been  a  doubt 
whether  Mary  should  not  have  obtained  it,  she  con- 
gratulated her  rival,  and  kissed  her  with  such  affec- 
tionate sincerity,  that  it  was  marked  by  the  whol& 
school ,  and,  from  that  time,  she  might,  if  she  would 
4 


88  jii:moir  of 

have  accepted  the  bad  pre-eminence,  have  been  the 
leader,  instead  of  the  persecuted.  The  huly  who  had 
presided,  during  that  year,  at  the  close  of  it  was  also 
married,  and  the  establishment  was  broken  up.  No 
one,  therefore,  can  be  injured  by  this  delineation  ;  and 
as  she  has  since  entered  the  eternal  world,  her  feel- 
ings cannot  be  wounded  by  it.  Where  the  head  of  a 
seminary  is  of  sharper  eyes  than  this  lady,  and  is  as 
kind  and  conscientious  as  she  without  question  was, 
exercises  of  tyranny,  and  evil  temper  of  this  descrip- 
tion cannot  occur.  The  trial  was  severe  on  one 
whom  her  father,  in  writing  of  it,  described  as,  "  a 
moral  plant,  ill  adapted  to  the  cold  clime  of  this 
world  ;"  and  has  been  always  remembered  wnth  con- 
cern, but  also  with  the  thankful  consciousness  that  He 
who  alone  can  bring  good  out  of  evil,  stood  by  her,  in 
her  hour  of  temptation,  and  sanctified  the  trial  to  her 
advancement  in  holiness. 

Mary  was  fortunate  in  an  affectionate  and  very  ju- 
dicious friend,  who  opened  for  her  a  home  during  va- 
cations, and  treated  her  as  her  own  child — entering 
into  her  concerns  ;  watching  her  improvement ;  sug- 
gesting alterations  in  her  studies  ;  and  writing  faith- 
ful details  of  her  observations  to  her  distant  family. 
This  highly  estimable  lady  was  remembered  ever 
with  grateful  and  dutiful  regard  ;  and  the  prospect  of 
seeing  her  again  was  held  among  the  bright  spots  in 
the  vista  of  future  years.  This  hope  was  destined  to 
be  disappointed.  One  of  this  eidightened  friend's 
many  acts  of  considerate  and  enlarged  kindness,  was 
obt;uning  permission  for  Mary  to  pass  a  week  with 
bfr  in  the  montli  of  May,  1830.  During  this  time, 
lirr  letters,  overflowing  with  tidings  from  the  meet- 
uigs  of  religious  societies,  which  introduced  her  to 
60  brilliant  and  precious  a  section  of  the  talent  and 
philanthropy  of  her  country,  showed  how  well  be- 
stowed was  that  week  of  indulgence,  and  of  higb 
enjoyment.     It  was  delightful  to  her  father  to  observe 


MARY   LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  39 

the  eagerness  with  which  her  niiiid  grasped  at  those 
subjects  which  had  engaged  his  own  best  energies, 
and  touched  his  best  i'echngs  for  nearly  the  whole  of 
his  life.  Her  descriptions  of  Wilberforce,  Clarksou, 
Fiuxton,  and  Brougham,  and  of  their  speeches, — • 
;ho  eathnsiasm  with  which  she  yielded  hei  soul  to 
the  powers  of  eloquence,  and  the  true  feeling  with 
which  she  embraced  every  just  and  holy  cause,  as  it 
was  presented,  proved  that  these  opportunities  were 
powerful  auxiliaries  in  the  development  of  her  mind, 
and  compensated,  in  a  great  degree,  for  some  defects 
in  her  school.  One  great  object  to  be  sought  in  edu- 
cation, is  the  expansion  of  mind,  not  merely  by  the 
atudy  of  hooks,  but  by  presenting  external  objects  to 
the  observation,  as  its  powers  become  stronger.  What- 
ever has  the  effect  of  loosening  the  prejudices  which, 
in  some  characters,  form  the  chief  part  of  early  at- 
tachment, is  an  important  auxiliary  in  mental  culture. 
A  young  person,  born  in  a  great  city,  will  acquire  a 
thousand  new  sources  of  deUght,  by  going  to  school 
ir^  the  country.  The  sights  and  sounds  of  nature, 
substituted  for  the  ceaseless  pavement,  and  the  throng 
of  men  ;  the  very  view  of  snow,  resting  on  cottage- 
roofs,  and  clothing  every  spray,  unfolds  comparments 
in  the  budding  mind,  which  might  otherwise  be  shrunk 
up  and  withered  through  a  lengthened  life.  The  con- 
verse is  also  true ;  and  a  young  person  accustomed  to 
country  scenes,  or  the  habits  and  notions  of  a  countrj' 
town,  will  not  only  acquire  many  new  ideas,  but  escape 
from  many  prejudices,  by  removal  to  a  city ;  and 
this,  not  at  pecuniary  cost,  or  at  the  expense  of  hard 
study,  but  by  the  mere  circumstance  of  change  of 
place. 

The  same  thing  holds  true  with  respect  to  religious 
forms  and  sects.  Mary  Lundie,  though  attached  to 
the  Church  of  Scotland  by  a  long  line  of  ancestors — ■ 
some  of  whom  had  suffered  persecution  in  her  cause 
' — though  educated  in  the  most  respectful  attachment 


40  MEMOIR    OF 

to  her  parent  church,  where  she  had  learned  all  that 
she  knew  of  the  Saviour,  and  of  which  she  had  the 
privilege  to  be  an  early  member,  yet  learned,  during 
her  sojourn  at  the  south,  with  much  gladness  of  heart, 
to  enjoy  the  services  of  the  Church  of  England,  and 
to  drink  in,  with  avidity,  the  ardent  addresses  of  some 
of  the  evangelical  dissenters  ;  and  thus  was  laid  the 
foundation  of  that  catholic  spirit,  which  has  doubtless 
expanded  in  the  region  of  her  present  habitation,  to 
embrace  all,  by  whatsoever  name  they  may  have  been 
distinguished  on  earth,  who  have  loved  the  Lord  Je- 
sus in  sincerity.  These  valuable  objects  were  pro- 
moted by  converse  with  many  Christian  friends,  with 
whom  she  was  permitted  to  hold  intercourse  in  Lon- 
don ;  and,  while  careless  observers  might  criticise  ex- 
ternal accomplishments,  her  parents  blessed  God  that 
her  Christian  love,  emancipated  from  mere  local 
trammels,  expatiated  over  all  the  churches  of  Christ 
with  benignant  sympathy. 

The  close  of  the  seminary  in  which  her  first  year 
was  passed,  rendered  it  necessary  to  seek  another. 
Her  ideas  of  what  that  other  should  be,  are  thus  ex- 
pressed by  her,  to  her  friend  Mrs.  Evans  :  "  I  do  want 
a  clever  school.  Not  one  where  there  is  a  routine  of 
mechanical  tasks.  I  want  something  to  exercise  my 
head ;  something  to  improve  my  composition,  which 
might  easily  be  effected  in  conjunction  with  lighter 
iccomplishments,if  there  were  a  clever  sensible  person 
who  would  take  an  interest  in  it. — I  hope  that,  wher- 
ever I  go,  I  may  liear  the  gospel  preached." 

In  the  seminary  finally  selected,  that  of  Mrs.  Gor- 
don, in  Euston  Square,  she  found  a  congenial  circle, 
a  happy  home,  and  the  means  of  improvement  to  her 
heart's  content.  Those  days  flowed  sweetly  on, 
where  pupil  and  teacher  were  attached  as  sisters  ; 
where  instruction  was  communicated  and  received 
with  equal  avidity  ;  where  the  minutiae  of  knowledge, 
ind  the  higher  communings  of  spirits  prepared  for 


MARY   LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  41 

heaven,  were  blended  in  their  daily  occupations.  On 
all  occasions,  Mary  expressed  her  respect  and  love 
for  Mrs.  and  the  Misses  Gordon  ;  and,  with  Miss 
Isabella,  she  formed  a  tender  friendship,  which  was 
suddenly  interrupted  by  the  death  of  that  talented  and 
devoted  young  lady,  a  few  short  months  after  she  had 
entered  on  a  new  line  of  duties  in  the  married  state 
The  srrvivors  mujst  forgive  this  tribute  to  a  memory 
so  precious,  and  so  linked  with  the  ardent  admiration 
and  love  of  Mary  Lundie.  Three  years  after  she  had 
enjoyed  this  tuition,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  she  says 
"  Have  you  heard  that  my  ever-beloved  Mrs.  Clark 
(the  matrimonial  name  of  Miss  I.  Gordon,)  has  en- 
tered her  rest  ?  Her  end  was  triumphant ;  but  0, 
what  a  loss  !  Even  to  me  it  is  most  afflicting.  What 
then,  must  it  be  to  her  family, — to  her  husband,  who 
possessed  the  treasure  but  eighth  months !  O,  to 
meet  her  in  our  Father's  house.  The  south  has  lost 
half  its  charms,  now  my  beloved  friend  is  gone.  Pray 
that  my  affections  may  be  fixed  on  God,  and  not 
traverse  earth  to  find  something  to  fill  up  the  blank. 
When  shall  I  love  a  young  friend,  as  I  loved  her  ?" 

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

"69  Euston  Square,  January  3,  1831. 
*  *  *  "  We  trust  you  will  find  her  time  has  not 
been  lost  while  under  our  care.  I  have  felt  great 
pleasure  in  instructing  her,  she  is  so  attentive  a  pupil ; 
and  her  amiable  dispositions,  combined  with  talent 
and  piety,  have  endeared  her  not  a  little  to  us, — a 
friendship  which,  I  trust,  may  not  be  forgotten  when 
we  part,  but  that  you  will  kindly  allow  Mary  to  write 
to  me  sometimes.  It  is  a  pleasing  reflection,  that 
anv  of  our  dear  girls  are  fellow-pilgrims  in  the  path 
4* 


t2  MEMOIR    OF 

of  glory ;  and  1  may  indeed  congratulate  you  on  hav- 
ing your  eldest  child  a  follower  of  the  blessed  Savi- 
our, as  the  influence  over  the  younger  ones  may  be 
great.  We  will  feel  the  loss  of  Miss  Lundie's  steady 
example  ;  much  as  the  sight  of  a  school  companion, 
reading  her  Bible,  and  walknig  in  the  commands  of 
God,  has  more  effect,  I  think,  than  the  precepts  or 
example  of  teachers.  There  is  one  thing  which 
vexes  me  about  Mary, — a  degree  of  untidiness,  and 
want  of  activity  about  such  things  as  she  considers 
of  minor  importance,  but  which  I  consider  of  great 
value  to  a  woman, — putting  on  her  clothes  firmly, 
keeping  her  drawers  neat,  &;c.  She  is  a  little  im- 
proved in  these  respects,  and  we  hope  will  be  much 
more  so,  before  she  leaves  us."  This,  the  only  fault 
which  reached  her  parents'  ears,  during  her  stay  in 
London,  would,  from  its  trifling  nature,  be  unworthy 
of  notice,  but  for  two  reasons: — 1st,  It  shows,  that 
the  picture  drawn  is  designed  to  be  impartial  ;  and, 
2d,  We  shall  see  that,  in  later  years,  when  domestic 
occupations,  which  she  always  considered  of  "  minor 
importance,"  became  duties,  she  gave  herself  to  them 
with  zeal  and  diligence. 

With  that  dear  friend  whose  house  was  her  homq 
during  vacations,  a  constant  correspondence  was  kept 
up  at  Kelso,  and  over  her  letters  are  dispersed  re- 
Hoarks  and  information  of  all  descriptions.  For  ex- 
ample during  her  sojourn  at  the  first  school,  Mrs.  E. 
fca^s  Mary  shines  among  her  school-fellows  with 
meer  radiance  ;  she  is  a  humble,  but  dignified  young 
person.  #  #  *  j  think  Mary  has  im- 
proved generally.  *  *  «  gj^^  j^^^g  jj^jg^ 
learned  a  great  deal  of  that  kind  of  experience  whic  u 
is  absolutely  necessary  for  getting  through  this  world, 
and  docs  not  now  speak  of  what  she  considered  hard- 
ships, when  she  first  went  to  school.  Her  sense  of 
divine  things  seems  to  be  as  deep  as  when  I  first  con- 
versed with  her ;  and  this  I  esteem  a  great  blessing 


MARY   LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  43 

considering  the  distractions  of  scliool,  and  the  trifling 
and  folly  of  girls  at  all  schools.  She  appears  to  be 
conscientiously  attentive  to  the  best  things  ;  and  I 
trust  that  such  an  example  as  hers  may  prove  a  bles- 
sing to  others  in  the  school.  «  «  *  » 
Our  dear  girl  is  indeed  a  very  lovely  young  woman. 
She  excites  admiration,  and  the  greatest  interest  in 
all  our  circle,  and  yet  seems  quite  insensible  to  it. 
We  shall  grieve,  indeed,  when  the  time  comes  for 
her  return  to  Scotland." 

The  impression  derived  from  a  re-perusal  of  Mary's 
letters  from  school,  is,  that  she  exercised  conscien- 
tiousness in  her  endeavours  to  improve  all  her  studies, 
accompanied  by  a  considerate  reluctance  to  put  her 
parents  to  expense,  and  a  modest  concern  lest  they 
should  not  be  satisfied  with  her  attainments.  For  ex- 
ample, "  Everybody  thinks  it  would  be  a  great  pity 
for  me  to  give  up  singing,  Avhich  I  greatly  prefer  to 
any  other  accomplishment ;  but  if  you  think  it  too 
much,  of  course  1  shall  be  quite  willing  to  drop  it. 
*  *  *  I  have  done,  I  think  I  may 
conscientiously  say,  all  I  can  to  improve  ;  and  I  can 
assure  you,  at  Miss  Gordon's  school,  the  solids  keep 
pace  with  the  adornments.'''' 

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

To  her  brother  she  wrote  while  at  college, — • 

^'■London,  January  29,  1831. 
•         •         •        "  You,  as  well  as  myself,  are  se 


44  MEMOIR   OF 

parated  from  my  dear  home.  I  felt  it  much  at  first, 
but  these  among  whom  I  have  been  placed  have 
proved  kind  and  tender  friends  ;  and  I  presently  found 
that  I  was  no  longer  a  stranger.  I  hope,  dear  Corie, 
that  your  sojourn  in  Glasgow  may  be  as  happy  as 
mine  in  London.  *  *  *  What  are  you 
reading  in,  English,  Latin,  and  Greek  ?  My  acquaint- 
ance with  the  last  named  old  language  is  at  an  end  ; 
but  I  still  think  of  Latin  with  affection,  and  some- 
times sigh  for  the  days  when  I  luxuriated  among  Vir- 
gil's bees  and  flowers,  or  mourned  for  Dido's  unhappy 
lot.  But  it  will  be  more  within  my  comprehension, 
if  you  tell  me  what  works  of  English  literature  have 
lately  interested  you.  I  hope  that  you  have  time  for 
reading,  and  that  what  you  do  read  is  calculated  to 
improve  your  taste  and  understanding,  and  increase 
your  knowledge.  »         *  *         ^^g  y^^  learn- 

ijig  mathematics  ?  and,  if  so,  how  do  you  like  this 
study  ?  Some  people  are  very  fond  of  it,  but  I  can- 
not say  that  that  science  ever  haunted  my  dreams.* 
I  have  been  reading  Millman's  Fall  of  Jerusalem,  by 
way  of  relaxation.  It  is  a  beautiful  poem  ;  some  pas- 
sages transported  me  from  school,  and  every  thing 
else,  till  I  fancied  myself  in  the  midst  of  the  falling 
streets,  or  standing,  with  the  rescued  Miriam,  by  the 
calm  moonlight  at  the  '  fountain  of  night.'  I  have 
read,  last  half  year,  five  volumes  of  Turner's  History 
of  p]ngland,  a  most  interesting  work.  1  think  you 
would  be  pleased  with  it.  It  does  not  confine  itself 
10  what  passed  in  cur  own  isle,  but  gives  a  clear  view 

*  AllucJinjr  to  a  family  anecdote  of  an  uncle  of  past  (renera- 
tions,  who,  when  a  si  ideiit,  had  spent  the  hours,  till  lon^  past 
midnight,  in  unsuccc^soul  endeavours  to  solve  a  prohieni  (which 
liis  jjrofessor  had  done  before  him,  during  the  day,)  and  had  re- 
tired to  rest  in  despair.  But,  when  he  arose  in  the  morning,  he 
found  the  solution  in  his  own  handwriting,  on  his  own  de«k, 
proving  that,  in  his  dream,  his  mind  had  wrought  out  wliat  hiA 
waking  |)owers  had  failed  in,  and  that  ha  had  riseu  iu  sleep,  and 
written  it  down. 


MARY   LUNDIE   DUNCAN.  45 

of  the  state  of  other  European  nations.  This  is  an 
advantage,  as  it  helps  us  to  form  distinct  views  of 
what  was  going  on  in  the  different  states,  at  one 
time.  Arrangement,  you  know,  is  of  great  importance. 
A  little  knowledge,  in  my  opinion  when  combined 
with  it,  is  better  than  a  good  deal  scattered  confusedly 
through  the  pericranium.  *  *  Dear  mam- 
ma and  papa  must  feel  your  absence  very  much.  I 
hope  they  may  not,  in  any  way  be  disappointed  in 
rae.  I  am  sin  ^  "^rely  desirous  to  make  myself  useful 
in  every  respecv  that  I  can.  I  feel  that  I  ought,  after 
their  kindness  in  allowing  me  to  remain  so  long  at 
school  where  my  energies  have  been  more  bent  on 
improving  myself  than  in  benefiting  others. 

"  I  hope,  dear  C,  you  do  all  in  your  power  to  im- 
prove in  your  pursuits.  Perhaps  you  may  not  again 
have  as  much  time  for  study.  You  are  now  far  from 
'Jiose  who  guided  your  early  years  ;  but  remember 
that  the  ever  present  God  still  sees  all  your  deeds, 
and  knows  your  thoughts,  and  will  be  your  God  even 
unto  death,  if  you  will  be  his  son.  0  give  him  your 
heart.  My  dear  brother,  a  steady  principle  of  love 
to  him  is  the  only  sure  protection  from  all  those 
snares  you  may  meet  with.  Let  his  word  be  your 
standard,  and  go  not  with  a  multitude  to  do  evil.  Per- 
sons brought  up  as  we  have  been,  have  much  to  an- 
swer for.  We  have  heard  what  it  is  to  love  God  ; 
and,  what  is  more,  we  have  seen  it  exemplified  in  our 
dear  parents,  whose  examples  have  been  constantly 
before  us.  Your  sister's  prayer  is  that  the  God  of 
your  fathers  may  be  yours  for  ever." 

Mary  had  already  acquired  a  strength  of  judgment, 
which  secured  her  against  the  misleading  effects  of 
adulation.  While  her  love  of  approbation  led  her  to 
bask  in  the  purer  sunshine  of  affection's  smile,  she 
early  discerned  the  distinction  between  that  and  the 
oblique  rays  of  selfish  compliment.  After  describing 
a  family  to  which  ?he  had  been  introduced,  she  ad- 


46  MEMOm.   OF 

ded,  "  Miss is,  I  ought  to  tell  you,  a  great  flat- 
terer.    She  complimented  me   extremely  on  a  little 

foolish  poem  I  wrote  on  the  overturning  of  Mrs. 's 

writing  desk.  Happily  I  was  aware  of  her  propen- 
sity, and  did  not  believe  her." 

The  early  attention  of  mt^mbers  of  the  other  sex 
commonly  create  some  excitement  in  the  mind  of  a 
girl, — arousing  the  conviction  of  approaching  woman- 
hood, and  fanning  either  sentiment  or  vanity,  accord- 
ing to  the  character  of  the  receiver.  The  only  no- 
tice to  be  found  of  such  a  circumstance  in  her  case, 
is  this,  "  That  was  a  curious  letter  sent  me  by  Mr. 

;  but  as  I  showed  it  instantly  to  dear  Mrs.  E., 

she  will  mention  it  to  you  if  it  be  necessary."  Another 
little  movement  betrayed  the  generous  and  self-deny- 
ing character  of  her  mind.  When  about  to  leave 
London,  a  small  sum  of  money  was  sent,  for  her  to 
expend  in  the  way  she  liked  best ;  supposing  that 
some  collections  of  art  or  other  exhibitions,  might  have 
been  still  Unvisited ;  some  favourite  pieces  of  music 
unprocured ;  or  some  pretty  garment  that  took  her 
fancy,  which  she  might  like  to  purchase.  From  this 
fund  she  did  not  make  one  acquisition  for  herself,  ex- 
cept that  of  the  pleasure  of  presenting  gifts  to  every 
member  of  her  beloved  family  ;  and  the  affectionate 
travelling  companion  who  accompanied  her  home,  re- 
marked, that  the  expending  of  five  pounds  had  never 
before  afforded  as  much  delight  to  an  owner. 


MARY   LUNDIE   DUNCAN.  47 


CHAPTER    III, 


HER    FIRST    AFFLICTION. 


She  had  just  completed  her  seventeenth  year  when 
sh\i  returned  to  Kelso.  The  radiant  joy  and  beaming 
love  occasioned  by  her  re-union  to  h#r  family,  her 
glad  review  of  the  dear  haunts  of  childhood,  her  hum 
ble  solicitude  lest  her  attainments  should  fall  short  of 
the  expectations  of  her  parents,  all  exhibited  the  sim- 
plicity and  meekness  of  her  mind.  Till  the  sense  of 
novelty  wore  off,  she  was  really  uneasy  lest  the  re- 
sult of  her  studies  should  prove  far  inferior  to  their 
expectations ;  and  repeatedly,  after  doing  anything 
which  exhibited  the  degree  of  her  acquisitions,  shfj 
said  with  an  anxious  expression,  "  Ah,  I  fear  you  are 
disappointed  ;"  or  "  you  hoped,  after  so  much  pains, 
that  1  should  have  done  that  better." 

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

"  1  am  glad  you  think  Christy  sincerely  loves  the 
truth.      Oh,  I  trust  the  Searcher  of   hearts  has  ac- 


48  MEMOIR    OF 

cepted  her  as  a  lowly  follower  of  his.  I  think  of  the 
Sabbath  school  very  often,  and  delight  to  remember 
both  the  time  when  I  was  your  pupil  there,  and  the 
period,  short  and  precious  to  me,  when  I  was  permit- 
ted to  try  to  lead  a  few  dear  girls  to  Jesus  :  how  1 
should  rejoice  in  being  there  again." — "  It  would  be 
worth  living  for,  if  one  could  benefit  but  one  immortal 
soul, — and  why  not  1  Let  us  try,  seeking  divine  aid. 
Your  constant  aim  it  is,  dear  friend  ;  will  you  pray 
that  it  may  be  mine  too." — "  Do  you  remember,  my 
dear  friend,  the  promise  that  poor  Betsy  made  me 
about  not  walking  on  Sunday,  and  not  loitering  in  the 
streets ;  and  about  continuing  to  pray  till  the  new 
year  ?  I  often  wonder  how  she  has  fulfilled  it,  and 
should  be  very  grateful  if  you  would  have  the  kind- 
ness to  speak  to  her,  and  tell  me  what  you  think  of 
her.  Is  she  turning  to  Jesus,  and  learning  the  love 
which  can  alone  shield  her,  and  save  her  from  temp- 
tation ?  How  is  C.  M.  coming  on?  Does  M.  M.  at- 
tend school  now  ?  Excuse  these  questions,  but  I  am 
anxious  about  the  girls." — "  You  know  how  deeply  in- 
teresting to  us  is  all  we  hear  of  the  efforts  made  for 
the  good  of  the  dear  people  at  Kelso,  and  with  all  those 
efforts  your  name  is  most  closely  associated.  God 
bless  you,  my  dear  friend  in  all  you  try  to  do  for  his 
glory.  I  often  sigh  to  remember  that  I  was  removed 
from  such  employ,  when  daily  becoming  more  inte- 
rested in  it.  My  heart  clings  to  the  school,  Jeany 
Ross,  and  others.  There  is  far  more  peace  and  sa- 
tisfaction in  living  to  be  useful  than  in  any  thing  else 
if  the  action  spring  from  that  animating  motive,  love 
to  him  who  so  much  loves  us."  *'  I  used  to  think  it 
strange  that  so  many  young  ladies  were  in  this  re- 
spect so  inactive.  I  was  not  then  fully  conscious  how 
much  I  owed  to  my  circumstances,  as  the  child  of  a 
pastor ;  or  hovv  much  I  owed  to  my  beloved  parents, 
who  always  had  something  ready  for  me  to  expend 
my  eaorgies  upon,  and  smoothed  the  way  so  nicely 


MARY    LUNDIE    DUNCAiN.  49 

for  me.  It  is  difficult  for  me  now  ;  removed  from  my 
own  employments.  I  have  not  yet  found  others  ex- 
actly to  fill  their  place,  and,  Oh,  it  is  painful  to  fear 
that  one  is  but  a  cumberer  of  the  ground.  *  *  • 
I  am  surprised  at  having  unconsciously  written  so 
much  of  myself,  but  you  will  forgive  me.  Will  you 
pray  that  I  may  be  enabled  to  see  what  duty  is,  and 
to  do  it.  I  shall  feel  thankful  if  you  will,  and  for  a 
larger  and  surer  share  of  that  peace  that  is  only 
known  when  our  God  reigns  supreme  in  the  soul." 

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

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

*'  Yesterday  we  went  to  W.  to  hear  Mr.  B.'s  fare- 
well sermon ;  and,  as  the  carriage  is  small,  I  set  out 
by  myself  like  an  intrepid  damsel,  and  walked  the 
distance,  having  received  many  directions  which  way 
to  turn.  All  these,  however,  were  unnecessary,  for 
the  stream  of  people  set  so  strong  in  one  direction, 
that  it  would  have  required  some  ingenuity  to  go 
wrong.  I  was  pleased  with  the  sight,  they  went 
along  so  quietly  and  soberly  in  their  Sunday  garb  ; 
externally  at  least  they  are  a  set  of  respectable  pea- 
santry. Every  new  situation  suggests  new  thoughts, 
and  I  felt  more  the  value  of  hearing  the  gospel 
preached,  from  having  to  make  some  exertion  to  attain 
it.  I  wonder  if  this  feeling  exists  in  its  force  with 
these  who  do  so  every  Sabbath?  Mr.  B's.  discour- 
ses were  very  impressive  :  there  are  few  more  solemn 
scenes  than  a  pastor  entering  his  charge,  or  bidding  a 
last  farewell  to  his  people.         *         *  *         ^g 

keep  early  hours  at  night,  and  I  rise  at  half-past  five, 
and  have  a  quiet  morning  before  breakfast.  Though 
5 


50  MEMOIR    OF 

I  cannot  gain  so  much  in  the  use  of  time  as  Elizabeth 
Sinitli,  whose  life  I  have  just  read,  was  so  happy  as 
to  do  ;  I  greatly  value  it,  and  do  not  like  to  let  it  slip 
I  lly  away." 

To  the  friend  whom  she  then  visited,  she  afterwards 
wrote  during  a  severe  family  bereavement.  "  If  we 
could  learn  to  regard  heaven  as  our  home,  we  should 
be  much  more  willing  to  part  with  our  dear  ones.  It 
is  but  for  a  little  while.  His  Father  has  called  him 
to  himself  a  little  sooner  than  the  rest  of  the  circle  to 
whom  he  was  united  in  Christian  love,  and  soon  you 
shall  meet  him  again  in  a  land  where  sorrow  and 
sighing  shall  ilee  away.  Yet  the  rest  of  life's  jour- 
ney must  be  trod  without  him,  and  often  will  the  re- 
membrance of  what  you  have  lost  send  a  pang  to  your 
heart.  Oh,  dearest  cousin,  may  all  of  you  feel  that 
there  is  a  fulness  in  Christ  to  supply  any  loss.  May 
your  steps  be  quickened  in  the  heavenly  way,  and  may 
the  rich  consolations  of  His  love  be  your  portion  for 
ever." 

It  will  be  concluded  from  all  that  is  stated,  that  her 
mind  was  not  only  of  a  thoughtful,  but  of  a  pensive 
cast.  There  was,  however,  no  languid  sentimental 
melancholy  in  this.  On  the  contrary  she  had  much 
cheerfulness  of  temper,  accompanied  with  great 
energy  of  character,  was  most  readily  excited  to  ac- 
tion, was  in  all  good  things  strenuous  in  exertion  be- 
yond her  physical  strength,  which  was  never  great, 
and  no  mind  was  ever  more  flexible  to  enter  with  plea- 
sure into  the  occupations  of  others,  nor  any  counte- 
nance more  easily  kindled  from  a  state  of  thoughtful 
repose  to  that  of  beaming  love  and  sympathy.  Her 
as|)irations,  it  is  true,  were  after  objects  of  which  the 
happiest  moments  in  the  wilderness  gi\=«  but  a  feeble 
earnest.  Her  enjoyments  were  of  the  contempla- 
tive, not  of  the  restless  or  noisy  class  ;  and,  from  the 
deep  views  she  was  early  enabled  to  take  of  sm.  and 
eternal  responsibility,  a  tinge,  not  of  melancholy,  bui  of 


MARY   LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  51 

sober  reflection  uncommon  to  her  years,  was  almost 
inseparable.  For  some  lime  after  she  was  first  settled 
at  home,  far  from  the  associates  of  her  age  and  sex 
with  whom  she  had  formed  friendship  at  school,  and 
not  fully  embarked  on  a  course  of  useful  employment, 
her  tender  father  would  study  her  features,  and  then 
ask,  with  a  half  dubious  countenance,  "  Do  you  think 
she  is  happy  ?"  The  question  could  not,  without 
some  reservation,  be  answered  in  the  affirmative  then. 
This  perishing  world,  with  its  perishing  pleasures  and 
disappointing  friend.ships,  is  not  calculated  to  fill  an 
immortal  mind.  But  now,  it  can  be  answered  with- 
out a  drawback.  Her  soul  is  satisfied  in  the  presence 
of  Him,  at  whose  right  hand  there  is  fulness  of  joy 
for  evermore.     "  Yes,  she  is  happy." 

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

"  THE    HAWTHORN 

"  What  faces  bright  with  pleasure  I 

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

What  have  my  children  found  ? 

It  is  the  hawthorn  blossom, 

The  fairest  flower  of  spring ; 
It  smiles  on  earth's  green  bosom, 
And  nature's  minstrels  sing. 

How  many  joyful  voices, 

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

To  Bcent  it  in  the  gale. 


62  MEMOIR    OF 

The  birds  in  concert  singing, 

The  insects  in  the  grass, 
The  sunny  waters  ringing 

Low  music  as  they  pass  ; 

Look  at  its  pearly  wliiteness, 

Faint  streaked  witii  blushing  red  ; 

It  comes,  its  clustered  brightness 
Athwart  the  woods  to  shed. 

0  !  in  my  happy  cliildhood, 
How  well  I  loved  its  flowers ; 

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

Beside  the  waters  meeting,* 

The  fairest  Scotland  knows, 
I  gave  it  joyous  greeting, 

And  wreathed  its  blossomed  snows. 

O !  that  for  you  some  future  year. 
The  hawthorn  flower  may  shine  ; 

To  whisper  of  a  home  as  dear, 
A  childhood  blest  as  mine." 

Such  were  her  recollections  of  her  early  home 
which  revive  the  images  of  the  joyous  group  on  those 
bright  days,  when  they  used  to  stroll,  for  hours  toge- 
ther in  the  woods  of  Floors  and  Newton-Don,  inhal- 
ing with  all  their  faculties,  whatever  was  refreshing 
to  the  senses,  reviving  to  the  spirits,  and  invigorating 
to  the  frame.  Sweet  and  grateful  memory  of  her 
childhood,  which  dropt  the  recollection  of  causes  of 
anxiety  or  uneasiness,  if  any  such  there  were,  and 
tenderly  cherished  every  tint  of  beauty,  every  spark- 
ling of  joy,  and  every  throb  of  affection !  Days 
which  it  enriches  the  mind  to  have  once  enjoyed, 
and  whatever  be  its  future  engagements,  the  memory 
of  which  forms  a  part  of  its  secret  treasures.  The 
bard  spoke  truly  of  his  style  of  pleasures,  when  he 
compared  them  to 

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

•  The  confluence  of  the  Teviot  and  Tweed. 


MARY   LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  53 

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

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

"  August  28,  1831. — Went  to  St.  Abb's  Head — a 
magnificent  pile  of  rocks — and  dined  on  a  hillock, 
with  a  heathy  mound  for  a  table.  Fancied  the  rocks 
like  cottages  and  churches.  Talked  of  the  wisdom 
of  God  displayed  in  all  his  works — of  the  elegance 
of  his  mind,  displayed  in  the  formation  of  a  flower, 
or  a  caterpillar,  so  perfect  in  all  its  parts,  yet  so  mi- 
nute— of  the  variety  of  human  knowledge — of  the  per- 
nicious effect  of  unrestrained  imagination  ;  contrasted 
the  grand,  but  unreal  poems  of  Byron,  with  the  sweet 
and  natural  strains  of  Cowper, — the  one  unfits  the 
mind  for  real  life,  the  other  depicts  objects  in  their 
true  colours,  imparts  soothing  to  the  heart,  and  ani- 
mates to  duty :  of  romance ; — were  some  very  ro- 
mantic adventure  to  occur  to  a  neighbour,  it  would 
not  so  much  excite  our  imaginations,  as  if  we  read  a 
similar  tale  in  the  highly  wrought  language  of  a  no- 
velist ; — there  is  in  man  a  tendency  to  ascribe  to  what 
is  not  defined,  something  more  than  reality  would  au- 
thorize him  to  do.  We  saw  two  sea-birds  bow  to  the 
5* 


54  MKStOIR    OF 

waves  ;  and  remarkeil,  how  much  we  might  learn,  did 
we  accustom  ourselves  to  derive  moral  lessons  from 
all  we  see. — From  those  birds  we  might  learn  to  bow 
to  the  difficulties  of  life  ;  and  thus  pass  through  them 
much  more  easily  than  we  do,  when  we  struggle 
against  the  appointments  of  our  Father  in  heaven 
Read  Douglas's  thoughts  on  prayer.  Talked  of  sub 
duing  the  temper  ;  and  of  the  evil  that  is  often  done 
by  Christians  to  their  Master's  cause,  by  giving  way 
to  impatience  ; — of  the  world  as  a  severe  but  useful 
judge  of  Christian  conduct ;  of  Paul,  as  naturally  of 
a  hot  and  hasty  temper  ;  but  as  becoming  meek  when 
he  knew  Christ.  Let  us  begin  when  young,  and 
build  on  that  blessed  foundation." 

But, "  when  joy  is  round  us,  grief  is  near,"  as  the 
youthful  poetess  sung,  when  grief  was  known  to  her 
only  in  theory.  Now  she  was  to  taste  it  in  its  bitter- 
ness. Her  beloved  father  was  removed  from  our 
sight,  before  she  had  enjoyed  one  year  with  him  at 
home.  Mary  had  been  absent  a  week,  and  was  re- 
turning in  a  smiling  company  of  cousins,  from  an 
evening  visit  in  Edinburgh,  when  the  solemn  message 
reached  her,  that  her  father  had  been  translated  in  a 
moment,  without  leave  taken  of  any  of  those  he  loved. 
He  was  gone  where  she  could  not  follow  him,  and  her 
tender  heart  was  oppressed,  and  bowed  beneath  the 
stroke.  Amongst  the  first  expressions  which  betrayed 
the  course  of  her  mind,  was  that  stated  in  the  funeral 
service  preached  for  herself,  little  more  than  seven 
years  after,  by  her  faithful  friend  and  near  relation, 
the  Rev.  Henry  Grey  of  Edinburgh  : — "  God  is  now 
my  only  Father."  "  Happy  she,  who,  in  that  dark 
hour,  had  still  a  Father, — one  with  whom  she  held 
solemn  communings,  and  who  wUl  never  die.  Her 
sympathizing  and  weeping  friends  would  have  hung 
around  and  watched  her  in  that  long  pang  of  wo,  but 
she  entreated  to  be  left  alone  ;  and  when,  after  an  in- 
terval, their  solicitude  brought  them  back,  they  found 


MARY   LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  55 

lier  still  on  her  knees,  with  her  arms  extended  on  the 
bed.  Her  eyes  were  streaming,  but  her  heart  was 
deriving  strength  and  consolation,  even  under  that 
crashing  blow,  from  Him  who  '  hath  comforted  his 
people,  and  will  have  mercy  on  his  afflicted  ;'  yea,  '  a 
mother  may  forget,  yet  will  not  He  forget'  those  who 
trust  in  him.  Tranquillized  and  sustained  by  this  di- 
vine strength,  she  returned  to  the  house  of  mourning  ; 
and  it  was  remarked  by  those  who  were  spectators  of 
that  sorrowful  return,  that  no  loud  cry  or  unseemly 
wailing,  attended  the  meeting  of  the  bereaved  ones ; 
and  that  Mary's  bearing  was  that  of  one  long  tutored 
in  the  school  of  discipline.  She  was  deeply  afflicted, 
but  she  held  her  peace.  A  meek  fellow  sufferer,  she 
applied  herself  at  once  to  sustain  as  a  daughter,  and 
to  sooth  as  a  sister  ;  and  except  when  the  flood  swel- 
led so  high  that  it  would  not  be  restrained,  and  she 
fled  to  solitude,  to  cast  her  care  on  Him  who  cared 
for  her,  she  was  the  stedfast,  considerate,  and  self- 
denying  friend  of  all  her  sorrowing  circle." 

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

''Kelso,  April  21,  1832. 

"  My  Beloved  Cousin. — The  last  sad  scene  is 
over.  We  have  watched  the  dear  remains  being  car- 
ried over  the  ground  where  he  had  so  often  walked  on 
errands  of  mercy  ;  and  we  have  to  bless  God  for  ten- 
der mercies  mingled  with  his  judgments.  Sometimes 
I  cannot  realize  the  truth.  I  can  scarcely  feel  that 
my  own  beloved  father,  the  dear  guide  of  my  youth, 
will  never  more  gaze  on  me  with  one  of  those  fond 
sweet  looks  that  are  so  deeply  imprinted  on  our 
hearts.  But  oh,  he  is  with  Jesus !  He  has  received 
the  end  of  his  faith — light,  and  life,  and  love  eternal ; 
and  we  would  not  call  him  back  to  this  dreary  world. 
Oh  !  pray,  as  I  know  you  have  done,  for  my  mother 


56  MEMOIR    OF 

*         *         If  WO  may  but  be  enabled  to  lie  at  the 
foot  of  the  cross,  all  will  yet  be  well.  *         * 

Pray  for  me  dearest  cousin,  that  the  selfishness  of  my 
wicked  heart  may  be  overcome,  and  that  I  may  be 
enabled  to  live  for  her  and  my  poor  dears. 

"  The  sympathies  of  friends  are  soothing,  and  we 
have  them.  My  own  father  was  glad  he  had  lived  to 
see  another  spring,  beautiful  with  what  God  has  made 
for  man.  Alas  !  1  in  my  foolishness  thought  he 
might  be  spared  for  many.  Oh !  not  for  him  we 
mourn  ; — the  sweet  spirit  he  manifested  during  the 
last  fortnight  of  his  life  was  such,  that  my  beloved 
mamma  says,  it  was  the  happiest  she  ever  spent  with 
him.  Is  not  this  comforting  ?  He  has  been  obvi- 
ously fitting  for  heaven  ;  and  I  trust  his  last  sermons 
may  never  be  forgo tton  by  any  of  his  people.  They, 
as  well  as  we,  feel  that  they  have  lost  a  father.  Oh 
for  faith  to  say  with  my  whole  heart,  thy  will  be  done  ! 
The  book  that  was  found  by  my  father's  side,  had  a 
mark  in  it  at  the  close  of  a  meditation  on  heaven ; 
and  we  suppose  his  last  moments  were  thus  employed. 
Sweet  employment!  How  like  a  translation  was 
my  departed's  death !  Dearest  cousin,  I  could  dwell 
all  day  on  this  delightful  theme  ;  but  there  are  mo- 
ments when  I  feel  I  have  lost  him.  And  oh,  my  mo- 
ther !  God  bless  her.  When  you  come,  you  shall 
know  more  of  what  our  Father  in  heaven  has  done 
for  his  rebellious  children." 

To  a  correspondent  near  London : — 

'■  Manse  of  Kelso,  May  11,  1832, 
"  My  very  dear  Friend, — The  kind  expression 
of  your  sympathy  has  been  soothing  to  me  at  this  sea- 
son of  trial.  You  have  been  so  lately  tried  with  af- 
fliction, that  you  know  well  now  to  speak  to  those 
who  are  passing  through  the  deep  waters.  We  have, 
indeed,  cause  to  rejoice  while  we  mourn.     He  who 


MARY    LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  57 

has  been  taken  from  us,  has  been  removed  from  a 
world  where  a  spirit,  so  tender  as  his,  suffered  much, 
to  the  presence  of  God,  where  he  is  united  to  the  fa- 
mily of  the  blessed ;  and  he  shall  never  more  grieve 
for  the  sins  and  the  sufferings  of  his  fellow-men. 
None  but  those  who  knew  him,  can  form  an  idea  of 
what  he  did,  and  what  he  felt  for  others.  We  have 
found  large  packets  of  papers  relating  to  slaves,  chim- 
ney-sweeps, widows  and  orphans,  and  to  many  who 
never  knew  who  it  was  who  was  so  actively  engaged 
to  do  them  good.  It  is  very  pleasing  to  remember 
these  things,  and  then  to  think  that  he  is  now  an  in- 
habitant of  a  land  where  it  shall  no  more  be  said,  '  I 
am  sick  ;' — that  he  who  spent  so  much  of  his  life  in 
endeavouring  to  make  others  happy,  is  now  effectu- 
ally removed  from  wo.  Yet  I  would  not  appear  to 
praise  my  beloved  father.  He  was  too  deeply  con- 
scious of  his  own  unworthiness  to  have  hope  of  eter- 
nal life  in  any  other  way  than  by  Jesus  ;  and  his 
hope  built  on  this  foundation  was  strong.  But,  my 
dear  friend,  had  you  known  him  whose  loss  we  mourn, 
you  would  enter  deeply  into  the  feeling  that  he  is 
sheltered.  This  was  a  predominant  feeling  for  the 
first  week.  *  *  This  is  the  season  in  which 
my  dear  papa  was  peculiarly  glad  ;  and  the  sunshine 
and  spring  flowers  he  took  such  delight  in,  are  all 
here  still  though  he  is  gone.  We  check  ourselves  in 
feeling  sad,  that  his  favourite  trees  are  covered  with 
blossom,  and  he  does  not  see  them.  Ah  !  we  walk 
fur  too  much  by  sight.  Had  we  the  eye  of  faith,  we 
should  never  forget  that  he  is  in  a  region  far  more 
beautiful  than  this.  He  has  reached  a  land  which  is 
adorned  with  the  beauty  of  holiness.  Could  we  re- 
alize the  fulness  of  joy  of  which  he  is  a  partaker,  I  am 
sure  our  sorrow,  now  mixed  with  thankfulness, 
would  be  lost  in  it.  But  He  who  sent  this  affliction, 
designs  that  we  should  feel  it ;  and  it  is  our  prayer 
that  we  may  walk  more  closely  with  him  than  before, 


68  MEMOIR    OF 

and,  trusting  more  simply  in  Jesus,  cherish  a  constant 
hope  of  being  reunited  to  all  whom  we  love  '  in  the 
Lord,'  and  more  than  all,  of  dwelling  with  the  Great 
Shepherd,  whose  voice  we  have  heard. 

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

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

"  Manse  of  Kelso,  August  11,]  832. 
"  *  *  The  mountains  looked  quite  beautiful, 
and  I  gazed  on  them  with  great  delight.  My  window 
looked  towards  them,  and  thus  I  could  see  the  moon- 
light streaming  on  them  at  night,  and  the  sun  rising 
on  them  at  early  morning.     I  thought  of  my  beloved 


MARY    LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  59 

father — how  deeply  he  would  have  enjoyed  all  the 
varied  beauties  of  the  scene.  Ah  my  dear  cousin !  I 
wi.sh  I  could  always  feel  willing  to  be  separated  from 
him,  for  the  remainder  of  my  pilgrimage.  I  want 
more  submission  ;  and  I  know  you  will  join  me  in  ■ 
praying  for  it.  Last  night  I  dreamt  he  was  sitting  in 
his  own  chair,  and  I  was  beside  him,  and  my  eyes 
were  streaming  with  tears,  and  I  was  rejoiced  that 
he  was  with  us  again.  But  it  is  foolish  to  relate  a 
dream.  I  want  to  fix  my  affections  more  on  the 
bright  heavenly  land  he  now  inhabits,  and  on  the 
Friend  of  sinners  who,  I  trust,  will  welcome  me,  and 
all  of  us,  thither.  He  welcomes  the  most  unworthy, 
and  this  gives  me  hope." 

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


60  MEMOIR    OF 

made  use  of  it,  to  give  our  hearts  more  entirely  to 
God.  In  the  evening  four  dear  Christian  friends 
joined  us,  and  Archy  Murray*  came  and  conducted 
fami  y  worship.  Thus  passed  our  last  Sabbath  in 
Kelso ;  and  the  next  morning  we  were  up  betimes, 
and  concluded  our  little  arrangements,  and  then  I 
went  alone  to  take  leave  of  several  spots  on  the  pre- 
mises, and  at  eight  left  the  once  cheerful  abode,  a 
scene  of  bustle,  confusion,  and*  desolation." 

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

"  But  it  is  not  outward  dangers  and  necessities 
alone,  that  make  the  orphan  the  special  object  of 
the  care  of  God.  He  knows  the  heart  of  the  fa- 
therless,— the  inward  sickening  of  him  who  feels 
he  has  lost,  what  time  cannot  replace — who  longs 
for  the  advice  and  tenderness  of  a  parent — and  weeps 
to  find  himself  alone.  To  him  the  promises  are  as 
showers  to  the  parched  grass  ;  turning  his  eager  gaze 
from  cisterns  that  fail,  and  refreshing  his  soul ;  for 
there  is  something  in  each  of  them  suited  to  his 
wants.  There  is  no  burden  that  oppresses  his  heart 
— no  regret  for  the  past, — no  anxious  fear  of  the  fu. 
ture, — that  is  not  met  by  some  word  of  benign  conso. 
*  Now  a  miraionary  i  i  Tut  jula,  Samoan  Idanda. 


MARY    LUNUIE    DUNCAN.  61 

lation.  God  delights  to  be  reminded  of  the  mercy 
He  has  proffered,  and  does  not  weary  of  the  orphan's 
ery;  and  this  condescending  love  should  raise  our 
gratitude  higher  than  even  the  stupendous  evidences 
of  creative  might.  The  Psalmist  felt  it  so,  when  he 
said,  '  Extol  him  that  rideth  upon  the  heavens  by  his 
name  Jah.  A  father  of  the  fatherless,  and  a  judge 
of  the  widows,  is  God  in  his  holy  habitation.'    *     * 

"  I  left  the  neighbourhood  before  her  sufferings 
closed.  It  was  on  a  Sabbath  evening  that  I  took 
leave  of  my  declining  friend.  I  found  her  seated  in 
a  large  chair,  supported  by  pillows,  and  looking  as  if 
all  her  strength  was  gone,  yet  so  happy,  that  I  could 
compare  her  to  nothing  but  a  feeble  and  confiding 
child,  who  entrusts  himself  without  fear  to  a  parent, 
whose  love  he  has  never  thought  of  doubting.  Her 
smile  of  welcome  was  more  sad  than  usual,  for  she 
knew  that  we  should  meet  no  more  on  earth.  She 
spoke  of  the  quiet  spot  in  the  church-yard,  that  would 
soon  cover  all  that  remained  of  her ;  and  of  the  hope 
full  of  immortality  that  kept  her  heart  from  sinking. 
She  pointed  me,  too,  to  the  gathering-place  of  the 
church  of  the  Redeemer,  which  was  opening  to  re- 
ceive her,  and  to  the  short  and  quickly  traversed 
space  that  might  divide  me  from  it.  One  of  the  last 
rays*  of  the  evening  sun  darted  into  the  room,  and 
seemed  to  afford  an  earnest  of  that  blessed  meeting. 
Our  sorrow  was  mingled  with  lively  hope,  and  wc 
were  glad  that  the  sacred  day  was  that  on  which  we 
must  part,  till  the  dawning  of  a  Sabbath  without  end. 
She  expressed  a  desire  that,  as  we  had  often  united 
in  prayer,  we  should  continue  to  maintain  this  valued 
fellowship,  by  praying  for  each  other  at  a  stated  hour 
of  each  day  that  was  added  to  her  life.  This  agree^ 
aient  she  never  forgot.  Some  one  entered  the  room, 
and  I  bid  my  sister  in  Jesus  farewell,  and  saw  her  no 
more  "* 

*  Missionary  Aonual.  p.  183 


62  MEMOIR    OF 

This  was  the  "  dear  Jcany  Ross,"  alluded  to  in  a 
letter  already  quoted.  She  finished  her  weary  jour- 
ney shortly  afterwards,  saying  with  her  last  sigh,  "  He 
that  cometh  unto  me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out."  And 
now,  in  that  glorious  region  unexplored  by  living  man, 
they  who  by  concert  prayed  for  each  other  daily  for 
a  time  on  earth,  are  united  in  a  chorus  of  ceaseless 
praise : — "  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain." 


IIAB.V   LUNDIE   DUNCAN.  63 


CHAPTER    IV 


BTUDIES    AND    OCCUPATIONS    IN    EDINBURGH. 

From  Berwick  she  conveyed  to  their  new  home  in 
Edinburgh,  the  young  brother  and  sister  of  whom  she 
had  charge.  In  common  with  her  family,  she  droop- 
ed like  a  transplanted  tree,  and  was  rather  disposed 
to  be  occupied  about  the  past,  than  to  feel  capable  of 
exertion  in  her  new  scene.  Very  few  letters  seem  to 
have  been  written  during  that  year.  Amongst  the 
few  within  reach,  there  are  constant  allusions  to  her 
birth-place  and  her  parent ;  unmurmuring,  but  touch- 
ing regrets,  which  belonged  to  the  tenacity  and  ten- 
derness of  her  nature,  and  which  are  not  incompati- 
ble with  submission  to  the  Divine  dispensations.  To 
her  maternal  friend  in  London,  she  mentioned  the  vi- 
sitation of  cholera,  which  spread  terror  and  grief 
through  Kelso,  during  the  autumn  of  that  year,  and 
said,  "  A  day  of  fasting  was  held,  to  implore  the  re- 
moval of  the  pestilence.  I  do  hope  the  town  may 
derive  lasting  benefit  from  this  visitation.  Had  dear 
papa  been  in  this  vale  of  tears,  how  lively  an  interest 
would  he  have  taken  in  the  suflferings  of  his  people! 
I  can  sometimes  rejoice  that  he  can  no  more  be  sub- 
jected to  the  sorrows  that  are,  in  a  greater  or  less 
degree,  the  portion  of  every  child  of  Adam.  Ah,  my 
dear  friend,  it  is  sweet  to  think  that,  whatever  may 
be  our  alternations  of  pain  and  pleasure,  he  is  in  pos- 
session of  the  happiness  that  arises  from  dwelling 
with,  and  being  like  his  Saviour.  I  sometimes  pause 
and  ask  myself,  what  improvement  has  resulted  from 
ail  our  heavenly  Father's  dealings  with  us  during  the 


64  MEMOm    OF 

past  months?  It  has  been  small  indeed;  but  He 
who  sent  sorrow  lias,  I  trust,  sent  a  blessing  with 
it,  and  taught  us  more,  that  He  himself  is  the  source 
of  all  real  enjoyment,  and  that  without  His  presence 
no  peace  can  be  found.  We  often  receive  messages 
from  our  poor  and  sick  friends,  some  of  whom  will 
probably  soon  be  removed  to  a  better  world.  We  ex- 
pect to-morrow  to  be  partaker's  of  the  Lord's  Supper, 
and  you  will  believe  our  thoughts  have  been  carried 
back  to  the  last  time  when  our  departed  one  was  with 
us  at  the  table.  But  this  is  not  enough ; — we  must 
also  look  forward  to  the  land  where  we  shall  again 
unite  in  praising  our  Saviour's  love."         *         * 

While  she  remained  at  Berwick,  she  wrote  tho 
first  pages  of  a  Diary.  From  this  sacred  document 
it  is  impossible  to  quote  so  plentifully  as  it  would 
be  for  edification  to  do ;  for  till  the  hand  was  cold 
that  used  to  turn  the  key  upon  it,  no  second  eye 
had  ever  rested  on  it ;  and  it  is  obvious,  from  va- 
rious expressions  which  it  contains,  that  she  de- 
signed it  entirely  for  her  own  private  inspection  ; 
yet  every  page  proves  the  truth  of  what  was  said 
in  her  funeral  sermon, — "  The  principle  and  spring 
of  her  actions  lay  in  the  conscience  and  in  the 
heart.  Hers  was  that  genuine  inwrought  piety, 
which  is  primarily  and  chiefly  conversant  with  Him 
who  looks  to  the  heart, — which  labours  to  have  the 
foundation  deeply  laid,  so  as  to  afford  a  secure  sup- 
port for  the  superstructure, — which  seeks  not  obser- 
vation, or  rather  dreads  it, — yet  which  slums  not  the 
acknowledgment  of  the  truth,  and  the  confession  of 
the  Saviour,  rwr  swerves  from  the  path  of  duty,  to 
escape  either  censure  or  scorn." 

Diary. — "■Bcrvick,  Sahhath morning,  Sept. 23,  1832. — 
"  I  have  sometimes  regretted  that  seasons  of  pecu- 
liar encouragement  or  depression  in  the  Christian 
warfare,  have  been    permitted   to  pass    away  unre- 


MARY   LUNDIE   DUNCAN.  65 

coided ;  for,  though  some  impression  of  sucli  sea- 
sons may  be  retained,  yet  the  returning  engagements 
ot  life,  whether  in  the  form  of  attractions  or  of  cares, 
combine  with  my  own  evil  heart  to  render  it  but  a 
faint  one.  Perhaps  were  I,  in  a  little  while,  to  see 
in  writing  what  had  been  the  exercises  of  my  mind, 
I  should  be  surprised  and  ashamed  at  the  quick 
change  in  the  current  of  my  thoughts.  I  find  it 
difiicult  to  live,  every  day  and  every  hour,  as  in  the 
presence  of  God,  though  I  know  I  cannot  be  com- 
pletely happy  till  I  can  thus  live.  I  know  perfection 
does  not  flourish  on  earth,  yet  how  many  of  the  dear 
people  of  God  have  given  themselves  soul,  body,  and 
spirit  to  him !  and  how  invariably  have  thay  found 
their  covenant  God  faithful  to  his  promise,  '  to  be  a 
Father  to  them,  and  to  make  them  his  sons  and  daugh- 
ters !'  0  that  I  may  be  enabled  to  follow  in  their 
bright  track  !  What  a  happy  being  should  I  be,  could 
I,  like  them,  forsake  all,  and  follow  Jesus!  He  is  my 
Saviour — He  has  given  his  very  life  for  me.  How 
can  I,  then,  count  any  thing  dear  that  may  come  be- 
tween my  soul  and  him  1  I  do  trust  that  he  who  has 
given  me  the  love  I  feel  towards  him,  and  taught  me 
to  wish  for  more,  will  satisfy  that  wish,  and  increase 
my  spiritual  appetite,  that  I  may  be  capable  of  re- 
ceiving abundantly  that  love  which  is  to  the  thirsty 
spirit  like  streams  in  the  desert.  I  hope  that,  by 
sometimes  writing  down  my  different  states  of  heart, 
I  may  be  assisted  in  judging  of  my  progress  in  the 
way  to  Zion.  Yet  I  fear  that  snares  encompass  me, 
even  in  this  trifling  effort.  Let  me  then  ask  God  to 
make  me  faithful  to  myself, — to  teach  me  to  search 
the  depths  of  my  sinfulness,  and  not  to  be  afraid  to 
discover  its  extent.  Let  me  never  write  any  thing 
concerning  myself  that  is  inconsistent  with  the  strict- 
est truth.  Let  me  never  be  induced  to  flatter  myself, 
and  gloss  over  the  true  state  of  my  mind.  And  may 
my  Lord  help  me  to  be  his  child,  and  make  this  a 
6* 


66  MEMOIR    OF 

means  of  rendering  me  more  careful  to  cast  out  whal 
offends  him,  and  to  delight  to  do  his  will." 

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

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

However  earnestly  engaged  in  other  pursuits,  spi- 
ritual progress  lay  nearest  her  heart ;  and  by-and-by, 
the  friends  who  were  accustomed  to  meet  and  read 
history,  or  prepare  English  compositions  with  her, 
sought  to  sanctify  their  other  engagements,  by  meet- 
ing once  in  the  week,  for  reading  the  Scriptures 
and  prayer.  In  unison  with  such  elevating  com- 
munings was  the  increase  of  lAMievolence  to  all  the 
human  race.  Her  diary  exhibits  many  examples 
of  ardent  philanthropy,  generally  terininating  in 
purposes  of  action,  as  well  as  of  devotion.  The 
following  extract  may  reveal,  to  the  friends  of  the 


MARY   LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  67 

negro,  by  what  secret  ministrations  they  have  been 
enabled  to  persevere,  and  have  not  fainted  in  a  pro- 
lonjj^ed  course  of  trial  and  discouragement :  for 
doubtless  many  a  faithful  soul,  that  could  neither 
speak  in  tlie  senate  nor  plead  on  the  platform — that 
had  neither  silver,  gold,  nor  influence — did,  like 
Mary  Lundie,  bear  the  wrongs  of  those  suffering 
tribes,  and  that  continent  in  ruins,  and  the  strength, 
zeal,  and  perseverance  of  their  friends,  on  their 
hearts,  to  the  footstool  of  Mercy. 

"  March  22,  1833. — We  have  been  lately  mucJj  in-  . 
terestod  in  the  emancipation  of  slaves.  I  never 
heard  eloquence  more  overpowering  than  that  of 
George  Thompson.  I  am  most  thankful  that  he  has 
l)een  raised  up.  O  that  the  measure,  soon  to  be  pro- 
posed in  Parliament,  may  bo  effectual !  What  can 
/  do  for  my  oppressed  brethren  ?  C)nly  one  thing — 
pray  for  them.  This  will  be  regarded  on  high.  How 
sweet  it  is  to  be  able  to  tell  our  desires  to  God,  and 
to  know  that,  though  our  influence  among  men  may  be 
next  to  nothing.  He  will  not  despise  our  cry.  Let 
me  then  bear  poor  Africa  on  my  heart,  and  seek  a 
speedy  emancipation  for  her  sons,  not  only  from  the 
rod  of  the  oppressor,  but  from  the  bonds  of  iniquity. 
Jjong  have  they  dwelt  in  a  night  of  darkness  and 
sighing,  but  their  cry  has  entered  into  the  ears  of 
the  Lord  of  Sabaoth.  O  may  they  now  be  rescued 
by  his  power !" 

Diary. — "  March. — I  have  been  thinking  of  the 
events  of  last  spring.  It  is  nearly  a  year  since  my 
beloved  father's  death,  and  all  this  time  he  has  been 
praising  his  Saviour  with  fulness  of  joy,  while  we 
have  still  been  occupied  with  the  fleeting  things  of 
time.  Has  this  affliction  given  me  an  abiding  sense 
of  the  instability  of  earthly  joys,  and  made  me  long 
more  for  that  purer  deligh  ,  which  is  found  in  see- 
ing the  Lord  face  to  face  .  Has  it  made  mt-  walk 
more  circumspectly,  and  devote  myself   more   com- 


68  MEMOIR    OF 

pletely  to  my  God  ?  Has  it  made  me  feel  the  value 
of  that  Idood,  wliich  has  washed  away  sin,  and  taken 
the  sting  from  death  ?  O !  I  thought  at  first  that  I 
could  never  more  fancy  this  world  my  home,  nor 
forget  how  fast  it  must  fade  from  my  view  ;  but 
sometimes  I  have  forgotten  this.  How  lovely  hea- 
ven would  appear,  did  I  always  think  of  it  as  my 
resting-place,  and  employ  my  thoughts  on  what 
would  prepare  me  for  going  there !  My  heavenly 
Father  sees  all  my  sms,  and  the  coldness  of  my 
heart — iny  readiness  to  forget  the  Rock  whence  I 
Avas  hewn,  and  to  live  and  act  as  if  my  daily  du- 
ties might  be  performed  without  his  aid,  or  a  refer- 
ence to  his  glory.  O !  that  he  may  help  me  to  live 
to  him,  to  watch  my  heart,  and  to  be  so  humbled 
by  my  sins,  as  to  receive  gladly  my  Saviour's  offers 
of  guidance,  and  to  feel  that  '  without  him  I  cannot 
go.'" 

"  April  28th. — I  was  nineteen  two  days  ago.  How 
long  1  have  lived  to  little  purpose  ;  I  am  so  ready 
to  miss  opportunities  of  doing  good,  and  to  make 
some  excuse  to  myself  for  it !  Well !  this  year  of 
my  life  is  gone  ;  but  let  me  try  every  day  that  is 
added  to  my  time,  to  serve  God  myself,  and  seek  to 
make  others  do  so  too.     1  feel  that  I   have  not  tried 

as  I  ought,  to  be  useful  to  E .*     Conscience  has 

often  told  me  this,  and  yet  I  have  waited  for  a  '  con- 
venient season.'  Surely  this  is  one,  for  the  commu- 
nion is  drawing  near,  and  she  is  not  yet  a  candidate 
for  admission.  Let  me,  then,  no  longer  listen  to  sug- 
gestions for  delay,  but,  in  our  walks,  turn  coversalioa 
heavenward,  as  those  should  do,  who  hope  to  win  a 
lasting  home  there.  I  have  also  neglected,  far  too 
much,  the  endeavour  to  make  my  dear  little  sister 
seek  her  vSaviour,  and  I  know  that  my  conduct  has 
been  at  times  such  as  did  not  become  a  disciple  of 
Christ;  therefore,  I  fear  1  have  injured  her,  by  raak- 
*  One  of  her  fellow-students. 


MARY    LUNDfE    DUN'CAX.  69 

i»g  her  think  that  it  is  not  so  requisite  to  walk  with 
unspotted  garments.  O !  may  I  be  enabled,  in  pati- 
ence, to  possess  my  soul, — to  behave  wisely  to  her, 
and,  both  by  precept  and  example,  win  her  to  my 
Shepherd.  I  have  been  looking  back  on  the  way  by 
which  he  hath  led  us.  His  dispensations  have  come 
in  love  and  wisdom.  Boston  says,  if  the  wood  de- 
signed for  the  building  were  able  to  choose,  very 
likely  no  iron  instrument  should  come  upon  it ;  but, 
in  this  case,  it  would  never  be  fit  to  form  part  of 
the  building.  So  we,  if  left  to  choose,  might  pre- 
fer to  be  without  sorrow ;  but  should  we  then,  un- 
humbled  and  full  of  earthly  prosperity,  be  fit  for 
heaven?  Happily,  we  are  not  left  to  choose,  and 
God  sends  sorrow  to  make  us  like  our  Sat'iour.  It 
is  well — he  comforts  us — he  hath  done  all  things  well. 
May  I  hope,  then,  that  I  am  more  firmly  rooted  and 
grounded  in  Icrve  ?  I  am  vile,  but  I  have  known  and 
believed  the  love  that  God  hath  to  me  ;  and,  since  he 
has  taught  me  this,  he  will  teach  me  more.  0  !  to 
be  like  my  Saviour,  and  part  with  what  he  does  not 
approve — to  see,  in  its  true  light,  the  insufficiency  of 
the  creature — and  to  say,  from  my  heart,  '  Whom 
have  I  in  heaven  but  thee  ?  and  there  is  none  on 
earth  that  I  desire  beside  thee !'  I  must  go  and 
read  with  the  boys,  and  let  me  not  forget  both  to  pray 
and  to  try  to  do  them  good." 

Diary. — "June  9. — I  think  that,  during  the  last  six 
weeks,  while  my  dear  friends  have  been  in  town,  1 
have  gone  out  too  much,  and  mamma  has  felt  the  want 
of  one  who  could  sympathize  in  her  feelings.  This 
pains  me  to  the  quick,  and  I  can  hardly  write  for 
tears.  O !  my  heavenly  Father,  when  shall  I  be 
wise  ?  When  shall  I  faithfully  do  my  duty  to  her, 
and  all  of  them  ?  Not  till  I  have  left  off  considering 
self,  and  thought  only  of  glorifying  thee,  by  being 
useful.  *  *  *  When  we  were  in  our  own  home, 
and  my  beloved  father  was  with  us,  it  was  not  thus. 


70  MEMOIR   OF 

Dear  mamma  has  lost  what  slie  cannot  regain,  and 
no  wonder  she  feels  sad  ;  and  when  she  looks  at  me, 
feels  the  contrast  sadder  still.  Yet  surely  I,  loving 
her  as  I  do,  bettor  than  any  thing  in  this  world,  ought 
to  be  a  comfort  and  help  to  her,  and  I  wish  and  pray  to 
be  so.  0  God  !  I  am  ignorant ;  wilt  thou  make  me  holy? 
and  let  me  walk  softly,  lest  I  lose  the  little  spark  of 
grace  which  I  trust  thou  hast  kindled  in  me.  I  want  to 
learn  prompt  obedience.  When  I  was  a  little  child,  I 
never  thought  I  knew  as  well  as  mamma  ;  but  now  I  at 
times  feel  inclined  to  take  my  own  way.  Why  should 
I  be  so  proud  ?  Let  me  learn  humility ;  this  is  my 
best  wisdom.  My  God  piuts  me  precisely  in  the  cir- 
cumstances where  my  corruption  shall  be  shown  me  ; 
and  I  should  be  thankful  for  it !  Ah  !  how  unliko 
the  children  of  heaven,  are  the  thoughts  that  fdl  my 
heart.  I  want  to  glow  with  love  to  all,  so  that  I  shall 
forget  myself,  and  be  happy  if  I  can,  in  any  degree, 
make  them  so.  And  why  should  iliis  appear  so  diffi- 
cult ?  I  have  a  Friend  on  high,  who  knows  my  vile- 
ness  and  weakness,  and  will  forgive  me,  and  help 
me  too.  He  renews  his  forgiveness  every  day. 
May  I  live  near  to  Him,  and  may  every  thorn  tha 
pricks  me,  make  me  look  up  to  the  beautiful  city, 
where  is  a  tree  of  life  without  a  thorn,  and  a  morning 
without  a  cloud !" 

This  extract  is  given  as  an  evidence  of  her  extreme 
tenderness,  both  of  conscience  and  of  affection.  The 
young  heart  is  not  easily  convinced  that  an  affliction 
is  irreparable,  and  to  be  endured  with  what  meekness 
and  faith  may  be  bestowed.  If  she  enjoyed  herself 
with  friends  of  her  age  and  character,  and  returning 
met  the  same  wan,  enduring  countenance  that  she  had 
left,  she  reproached  herself,  as  if  she  ought  to  have 
been  doing  something  to  alleviate  feelings  which  were 
quiie  beyond  her  reach  ;  and  because  her  ardent  txiYcc- 
tion  would  have  rendered  it  the  joy  of  her  life  to  fdl 
that  place,  which  the  Divine  dispensation  had  made 


MARY   LUNDIE   DUNCAN.  71 

empty,  when  she  found  that  was  not  within  her 
power,  she  accused  her  own  natural  cheerfulness, 
as  if  its  indulgence  were  selfish. 

"/«/y  1. — Dr.  R 's  two  days'  visit  has  been 

pleasant.  He  gives  a  useful  turn  to  conversation, 
and  has  been  a  successful  minister.  Some  instances 
that  he  related,  of  remarkable  conversions,  showed 
me  the  great  efficacy  of  faith  and  prayer.  He  asks 
and  expects  great  blessings,  and  he  receives  them. 
It  is  strange,  that,  when  I  am  asking  for  quickening 
grace  for  myself,  or  conversion  for  those  I  love,  I 
often  think  of  the  answer  as  a  distant  thing,  and 
do  not  seem  to  know  that  He  who  hears  me  is  ready 
to  give  far  higher  things  than  I  have  ever  asked.  If 
I  remember  this,  my  prayers  will  be  much  quickened. 
I  fear  to  deceive  myself  by  kneeling  with  a  wavering 
heart.  My  dear  uncle  preached  yesterday  on  the 
evil  of  wavering.     May  the  Lord  help  me  to  '  ask  in 

faith.'      Dr.  R told  us  much  of  the  tenets  of  the 

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

''July  14. — Ruthwell. — I  arrived  on  Friday,  and 
hive  been  charmed  with  the  beauty  of  the  grounds, 
and  cheered  by  the  kindness  of  my  friends.  The 
Sabbath  has  come,  and  I  am  once  more  spending  that 
fiacred  day  in  the  country.  The  scene  is  bright  and 
calm,  and  all  nature  seems  to  praise  Him  to  whom  it 
owes  its  being.  Strange  that  my  heart  should  be  so 
out  of  tune,  so  little  in  unison  with  this  sweet  and 
imiversal  concert  !-^I  have  not,  of  late,  made  proper 
use  of  my  Sabbaths.  At  Kelso,  my  class,  and  til.- 
ieautiful  scene  I  delighted  to  look  upon  from  ray 


72  MEMOIR   OF 

attic,  gave  elasticity  to  my  spirits,  and  I  felt  that 
it  was  a  happy  thing  to  seek  to  be  useful,  and  to 
bless  the  Giver  of  so  many  pleasant  gifts.  But  in 
Edinburgh,  I  felt  at  first  such  deprivations  so  much, 
Khat  a  feeling  of  discomfort — discontent,  I  fear — stole 
on  me,  and  made  many  moments  dark,  which  might 
have  been  very  precious.  0  how  sinful  was  this ! 
I  felt  it  so  at  times,  and  strove  against  it.  My  God  ! 
may  I  live  on  thy  word,  and  then  I  shall  not  be  so 
unprepared  to  lay  hold  on  thy  blessings  as  they  flow ! 
I  have  not  felt  the  ordinances  of  God's  house  very 
precious,  nor  been  able  to  say,  '  How  amiable  are  thy 
tabernacles  !'  and,  worse  than  all,  I  have  not  grieved 
at  this.  I  know  these  tilings  are  so,  but  I  do  not 
rouse  myself  to  make  them  otherwise.  This  verse 
comforts  me,  '  He  who  hath  delivered  my  soul  from 
death,  will  he  not  deliver  my  feet  from  falling  V  Yes, 
he  will.  May  I  not  quench  his  Spirit.  I  feel  some- 
thing of  my  old  buoyancy  of  spirit.  But  this  is  no 
proof  of  nearness  to  God,  for  while  I  have  been  sit- 
ting in  the  cottage  porch,  trying  to  raise  my  heart  to 
Him,  all  sorts  of  foolish  thoughts  have  passed  through 
my  mind.  I  am  sin — all  sin.  But  surely  the  grace 
of  God,  which  is  sufficient  for  rae,  shoidd  ere  this 
have  been  exerting  a  stronger  power  in  my  soul.  My 
days,  this  week,  have  been  idly  spent,  for  I  have 
not  sought  God  in  my  occupations  ;  and  no  wonder  I 
am  all  wrong  to-day.  I  have  been  considering  how 
I  could  do  good  to  others,  and  have  not  attended  to 
the  first  step  to  it — watchfulness  over  myself.  Ex- 
ample does  more  than  any  thing,  and  I  can  only  be 
made  to  walk  uprightly  by  keeping  close  to  God.  O 
God !  whom  I  have  so  often  forgotten,  pity  and  help 
me !  Thou  art  Love,  and  wilt  not  cast  rae  off.  I  am 
thifte — save  rae.  Do  with  me  whatever  thou  wilt ; 
but  do  not  let  me  forget  iliee  any  more.  Leave  me 
not,  or  I  shall  perish.  Thou  art  God — Oh !  rule  in 
my  heart." 


MARY   LUNDIE   DUNCAN.  73 

"  July  21 . — Another  week  has  fled,  and  I  have  been 
strangely  tossed  in  spirit.  Now  that  is  passed — but 
0 !  how  much  sin  has  there  been  in  all  parts  of  my 
conduct.  I  once  thought  of  writing  it  down — but  I 
am  not  sure  that  it  would  be  to  profit.  I  have  had 
pain  in  my  spirit,  and  not  sought  relief  in  God,  I 
knew  not  that  I  had  so  much  folly  about  me,  but  every 
new  situation  in  which  I  am  placed  brings  out  new 
sins.  May  God  lead  me  out  of  temptation — Oh 
may  I  be  quite  wiUing  to  be  so  led.  He  knoweth 
what  is  for  ray  good,  and  bringeth  good  out  of 
evil.  If  I  lived  on  '  manna,'  I  should  not  stop  for 
husks." 

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

"July  26. — The  fast  day.  I  have  been  trj'ing  to 
seek  my  God.  '  My  best  desires  are  faint  and  few,' 
but  he  will  help  me.  I  have  to  mourn  for  half-heart- 
edness.  This  was  my  complaint  when  I  wrote  the 
first  sentence  in  this  book  ;  it  is  so  still.  Present 
things  have  far  too  great  a  hold  on  me,  and  eternal 
things  dwindle  from  my  view.  But  God  is  showing 
me  that  all  below  is  vanity,  and  I  seem  less  and  less 
to  look  for  perfect  happiness  on  earth.  I  have  been 
in  varied  circumstances,  and  each  had  its  peculiar 
trials,  and  in  all  I  have  found  my  only  help  in  God. 
But  oh,  how  much  more  hopefully  can  I  seek  for 
7 


74  MEMOIR    OF 

peace  and  comfort  when  the  trial  is  of  His  sending, 
than  when  it  is  of  my  own  making!  He  sees  my 
heart  and  will  empty  the  vanity  out  of  it,  and  make 
me  such  as  he  approveth.  I  want  to  be  all  his  own. 
Often  I  blame  my  actions,  and  deeply  too,  when  the 
only  way  to  correct  them  is  to  purify  the  source.  I 
have  not  truly  sought  that  God  should  direct  my  daily 
steps.  I  have  lived  away  from  him,  and  no  wonder 
that  I  have  offended  him.  I  have  not  been  instant  in 
prayer.  I  have  been  called  by  his  name,  while  I 
obeyed  not  his  law.  He  says,  '  return  and  I  will 
heal  your  backslidings.'  May  I  do  so  this  very 
day — and  as,  when  Daniel  confessed,  Gabriel  dew 
swiftly  to  him  with  a  message  of  mercy,  may  my 
Father  pardon  me,  and  let  me  feel  myself  pardoned, 
that  I  may  henceforth  walk  in  newness  of  life.  How 
precious  is  Christ !  When  I  think  of  my  sins,  he  is 
my  only  hope,  and  worth  all  the  universe.  May  I 
love  him  more,  not  in  name  only,  but  in  deed  and  in 
truth." 

Such  were  a  portion  of  her  fast-day  exercises,  in 
the  country,  surrounded  by  Christian  friends,  whose 
converse  might  have  prevented  the  depth  of  her  heart- 
searchings,  had  she  not  been  resolved  on  converse 
with  God.  About  this  period,  the  germ  of  that  at- 
tachment was  formed,  which  gave  a  bent  to  the 
remainder  of  her  life.  Acting  as  a  disturbing  force, 
on  the  divine  love  which  was  the  master  attraction 
of  her  heart,  it  distressed  and  unsettled  her  ;  and  ex- 
plains the  quarrel  she  had  against  herself  in  this 
extract,  and  also  in  the  following : — "  I  have  every 
thing  here  to  make  me  happy ;  but  what  avails  it, 
when  the  mind  is  disordered  ?  May  I  act  consci- 
entiously !  Oh,  that  1  could  live  as  seeing  Him  who 
is  invisible.  W  hy  should  I  write  this  wish,  and  yet 
not  pray  with  all  my  heart  that  it  may  be  realized. 
Help  me,  my  King.  Save  from  sin  one  who  is  ran- 
somed by  the  blood  of  thy  Son."     Again,  a  'ew  days 


MARY    LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  75 

after,  she  writes,  "  Were  I  sure  that  what  I  do  meeis 
with  my  Lord's  approval,  I  should  be  happy.  Sin  is 
mixed  with  every  thiui";.  May  I  learn  to  prove  my 
heart  and  reins.  The  Lord  weigheth  the  spirit  and 
teacheth  us  to  weigh  our  own  too.  Why  then  is  it 
that  I  so  little  seek  his  guidance  ?  Peace  is  far 
from  the  heart  that  seeks  it  not  at  his  throne."  The 
next  ex'ract,  written  when  she  returned  home,  and 
happeiied  to  pass  a  few  days  there  alone,  shows 
the  continuance  of  the  same  internal  conflict. 

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

Poor  humanity  !  How  strong  in  resolve  !  How 
feeble  in  execution!    When  David  exclaimed,  "  unite 


76  MEMOIR   OF 

my  heart  to  fear  thy  name,"  he  was  probably  suffering 
under  similar  experience.  The  infirmity  which  dis- 
ables the  mind  from  occupation  by  more  than  one 
object  at  a  time,  and,  in  yielding  strength  to  one  affec- 
tion, enfeebles  another,  is  one  of  the  burdens  under 
which  the  "  new  creature  "  groaneth  and  travaileih  in 
pain ;  and  even  they  who  "  have  the  first  fruits  of  the 
Spirit,  groan  within  themselves,  waiting  for  the  adop- 
tion, to  wit,  the  redemption  of  their  body."  But  "  we 
are  saved  by  hope."  The  conflict  endures  but  for  a 
time.  Our  guide  does  not  shelter  us  from  it,  but 
having  tasted  its  bitterness,  the  soul  is  taught  more 
clearly  to  discern,  and  more  simply  to  seek  sancti- 
fication  in  all  its  attachments.  Blessed  be  his  name 
that  this  is  attainable,  and  that  the  more  the  heart 
is  expanded  in  such  love  as  becometh  a  Christian, 
the  stronger  evidence  it  possesses  of  having  passed 
from  death  to  life.  For  a  season,  poor  Mary  was 
in  heaviness,  but  the  "  King  "  to  whose  holy  dominion 
she  so  fervently  renewed  her  submission,  guided  and 
consoled  and  taught  her,  so  that  she  enjoyed  peace 
with  Him,  while  she  exercised,  in  healthful  vigour, 
all  the  social  and  domestic  affections. 

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

"an  evening  at  no.  11. 

"  September  10. 

•Oh  !  is  tliere  a  time  when  enchantment  descends 
Like  lifjht  from  a  spiiere  that  is  brighter  than  thi.s? 

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

Tifl  the  hour  of  the  evening  when  daylight  is  fled. 
And  with  it  the  toils  that  awakened  witii  day  ; 

An.»  the  tapers,  that  glow  in  the  drawing-roo.n,  shed 
Their  reflection  on  faces  still  brighter  than  they; 


MARY   LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  T7 

When  the  mtiu  from  his  desk,  and  the  boy  from  his  book. 
And  the  ludy  from  thousands  of  matronly  cares, 

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

And  he  to  whose  genius  a  senate  might  bow, 

The  champion  of  right,  to  Immanity  dear, 
Forgets  the  ])roud  laurels  tliat  wave  o'er  his  brow. 

And  gilds  like  a  sunbeam  the  moment  of  cheer : 

And  wit  flashes  out  in  electrical  spark 

Till  the  sad  and  the  sprightly  acknowledge  the  spell, 
And  feel  that  if  prospects  at  times  appear  dark, 

Such  moments  of  rapture  repay  them  full  well : 

And  eye  answers  eye,  in  the  sparkle  of  mirth, 

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

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

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

Go — whisper  to  those  whom  I  love,  little  ryhme, 

'  Keep  a  place  for  your  songster  at  evening's  fair  gleam.'  " 

While  still  alone,  she  received   a  visit  from  the 

Rev.  S.  H.  C ,  D.D.,  of    New-York,— a   man 

whose  brilliant  and  erratic  genius,  warm  affections, 
and  fervent  piety,  have  kindled  admiring  sympathy  in 
many  less  ardent  and  less  intellectual  characters  than 
hers.  It  is  he  to  whom  allusion  is  made  in  the  next 
extract. 

Diary. — ^'■September  22. — I  have  been  at  prayer, 
but  my  heart  wandered  often,  and  now  1  do  not  feel 
at  peace.  The  work  is  God's,  so  it  cannot  fail — but 
how  very  long  I  am  in  becoming  completely  His.  I 
will  not  cease  to  beg  him  to  make  me  so.  He  is  my 
God,  and  will  show  me  the  emptiness  of  earth,  and 
the  reality  of  eternity. 

"  I   hope  often  to  pray  for    Dr.  C .     May  a 

spark  of  his  fervent  spirit  linger  among  us!  May 
we  be  revived,  as  his  church  has  been,  and  in  the 
place  where  an  all-wise  God  has  cast  my  lot,  may  I 


78  MEMOIR    OF 

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

"  On  Saturday,  11th,  Dr.  C mentioned  the  half 

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

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


MARY   LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  79 

fadeth  not,  the  emotion  experienced  on  that  occasion 
would  have  been  tempered  down  to  a  degree  not  far 
above  that  of  the  republican  Christian. 

"  On   leaving   the    armoury,  Dr.   C said,  he 

longed  for  the  time  when  swords  should  be  beat  into 
pruning-hooks  ;  and  he  believed  there  were  indica- 
tions of  the  approach  of  that  time.  He  spoke  of  an 
attempt  to  settle  disputes  by  writing  instead  of  force. 
At  seven,  I  attended  a  prayer-meeting   where    Dr. 

C spoke  of  revivals,  and  I  longed  for  an  effusion 

of  the  spirit  on  my  own  poor  heart,  and  all  around 
me.     May  I  never  forget  that  night." 

"Wednesday,  18. — Mamma    came   home    at    last, 

and  Dr.  C drove  to  the  door  an  hour  after.     He 

explained  the  5th  of  Romans.  He  held  up  his  Greek 
Testament,  and  said,  '  Out  of  this  blessed  book  I 
have  derived  all  the  ligiit  I  possess.  Why  do  my 
countrymen  trust  so  much  to  each  other's  printed 
expositions,  and  not  seek  to  learn  for  themselves 
from  this,  the  pure  spring  V  I  felt,  while  he  spoke 
with  a  glow  of  delight  of  the  Bible,  that  I  had  never 
prized  it,  nor  understood  it  as  I  ought.  I  have  read 
it  like  other  books,  not  impressed  with  the  thought 
that  every  word  of  it  is  God's,  and  therefore  must 
be  strictly  the  truth.  No  expression  of  the  Holy 
Spirit's  choosing  is  without  its  purpose  ;  it  is  always 
the  very  one  that  will  express  precisely  and  fully  the 
meaning  intended.  Let  me  carry  this  thought  with 
me  when  I  read  tlie  Bible.     But  I  cannot  tell  all  the 

gracious  things  Dr.  C said.     His  heart  is  full  of 

Christ,  and  thence  his  mouth  speaketh.  And  am  I  a 
member  of  the  same  family  ?  Ah,  how  unlike  him 
in  spirit !  Then,  I  am  also  unlike  Jesus,  of  whose 
spirit  he  has  but  a  small  portion,  and  whose  mo- 
del he  doubtless  feels  that  he  imitates  but  imper- 
fectly. 0  to  yield  all  to  him  !  I  want  to  be  His, 
and  I  know  I  cannot  be  sin's  too.  Take  all  my 
heart,  my  Saviour !     Let   me   crucify  the   flesh  in 


80  MEMOm   OF 

every  way,  and  love  thee  entirely,  and  my  peact 
shall  be  as  the  morning.  After  a  hasty  dinner,  we 
went  with  Dr.  C to  the  Temperance  Coffee- 
house, and  soon  tlie  coach  whirled  liim  away.  Not 
80  the  impression  his  visit  had  made.  Long,  long 
may  it  rest  on  my  heart,  and  may  his  singleness  of 
purpose,  his  constant  occupation  of  mind,  his  love  to 
God,  which  is  the  source  of  his  actions,  and  the  true 
secret  of  all  the  excellence  of  his  character,  be  my 
example  !" 

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

in  another  land.     Dr.  C visited  Mr.   Douglas  of 

Cavers,  and  my  little  brothers  had  the  good  fortune  to 
be  his  companions,  for  he  met  them  at  Kelso  and  took 
them  with  him.  He  went  over  the  manse  grounds, 
which  are  dear  to  him  for  his  friend  Brucn's  sake. 
To-morrow  he  will  embark  for  a  home  of  which  he 
speaks  with  greater  enthusiasm  than  any  man  I  have 


MARY   LUNDIE   DUNCAN.  81 

heard.  It  is  delightful  to  see  one  wnose  soul  is  so 
engrossed  with  mighty  things,  yet  so  full  of  fireside 
charities." 

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

"  October  31. — Fast  day.  I  have  a  great  deal  to 
do  to-day  in  my  heart.  I  have  tried  to  review  what 
have  been  my  chief  sins  this  summer,  and  find  that 
sin  is  in  every  thing,  yet  I  do  not  feel  it  as  I  ought. 
When  I  was  suflered  to  commemorate  Jesus'  death,  I 
did  not  derive  nearly  the  good  I  ought  from  it.  I  did 
not  set  myself  stedfastly  to  seek  him,  and  am  ashamed 
when  I  remember  how  very  little  effect  the  holy  or- 
dinance had  on  me.  I  have  sometimes  made  the  ex- 
cuse that  some  of  the  clergymen  were  not  very  im- 
proving. But  I  had  the  '  footstool'  to  go  to,  and  have 
cause  to  grieve  that  I  sought  my  pleasures  more  from 
the  nothings  of  time  than  from  the  love  of  God.  I  find 
that  vanity  helped  to  ensnare  me.  It  pleased  me  to 
be  admired, — and  though  the  temptations  are  not  near 
me  now,  is  vanity  weaker  ?  1  often  feel  it  rising,  and 
though  some  other  sins  have  more  power  over  me,  it 
has  some  share  in  my  evil  heart.  Let  me  put  it  down. 
Then,  self-indulgence  was  one  of  my  great  sins.  I 
did  not  look  so  much  whether  a  thing  was  right,  as 
whether  it  pleased  me  ;  of  course,  there  I  got  wrong. 
Against  this  let  me  watch.  Oh!  that  I  could  un- 
weariedly  watch,  and  hate  the  things  that  wound  my 
Lord !  The  motives  of  my  heart  were  crooked,  be- 
cause other  things  than  his  will  entered  into  them. 
Since  then,  my  conscience  has  felt  burdened.  Peace 
has  often  been  far  from  me  ;  and,  when  I  have  felt 
unhappy,  I  have  not  acted  to  mamma,  or  any  one  as 


82  MEMOIR   OF 

I  our  ht.  My  heart,  and  thence  my  brow,  have  been 
clouded.  I  have  been  most  cheerful  when  I  forgot! 
Oh  !  this  is  a  false  cheerfulness.  I  warn  to  be  made 
clean  every  whit.  When  God  pleases,  I  want  solid 
peace.  I  will  seek  him  till  I  find  him,  his  grace  as- 
sisting me.  My  chief  concern  is  with  eternity. 
Thither  each  day  hath  borne  its  record, — and  how 
shall  I  stand  when  it  is  all  vividly  recalled  to  me  at 
judgment  ?  Oh  !  Jesus,  give  me  thy  righteousness  ! 
It  was  only  last  Sunday  that  I  was  thinking  over 
some  of  the  past,  wherein  I  knew  I  had  erred  ;  and 
strange !  it  was  with  a  kind  of  pleasure.  Thus,  I 
nearly  lost  an  excellent  sermon,  and  '  sinned  in  the 
recesses  of  the  temple.'  If  one  of  my  friends  knew 
my  heart,  and  especially  the  want  of  uprightness  in 
my  train  of  thought,  I  could  not  look  at  that  one.  God 
knows  all — give  me,  my  God,  the  grace  of  repentance. 
I  want  to  draw  nigh  to  thee  to-day  ;  to  begin  anew  to 
check  sin  in  every  shape — to  love  thy  law — to  be  a 
'  servant  of  Jesus.'  I  am  cold  and  vile,  and  have 
only  sins  to  bring,  but  she  of  old  to  whom  thou  for- 
gavest  much,  loved  much.  Let  it  be  so  with  me. 
Let  me,  at  least,  love  thee  indeed.  Do  what  thou 
wilt  with  me.  I  should  destroy  myself,  if  left  to  my- 
self, but  leave  me  not.  Let  this  fast  day  be  one  long 
to  be  remembered  as  one  wherein,  in  sincerity,  and 
truth,  I  yielded  up  my  mind  to  run  in  thy  way." 

"  November  9. — I  have  not  been  able  to  write  about 
the  exercises  of  the  3d.  They  were  precious,  and  I 
renewed  my  cov-enant  with  my  God  solemnly.  Dear 
E —  and  I  spoke  of  the  delight  of  being  1  is  children 
when  we  came  from  his  house.  May  that  day  be 
long  remembered  as  her  first  open  avowal  of  her  love 
to  Christ,  and  may  she  belong  to  him  for  ever !  I 
thought  of  my  sins,  but  hope  in  my  Saviour,  and  trust 
he  will  strengthen  me  to  keep  my  vow,  and  make  me 
feel  my  union  to  him.     I  thought  of  the  dear  friends 


MARY    LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  83 

in  London  who  were  engaged  thus ; — it  is  a  sweet 
bond." 

The  laying  open  of  these  exercises  so  sacred  and 
so  secret,  is  like  the  harsh  process  of  the  naturalist 
when  he  saws  in  sunder  a  shell,  whose  external, 
polished,  and  uniform  surface,  gives  no  indication  of 
the  spiral  column,  with  its  many  involutions,  within. 
It  is  not  done  without  thought  or  without  effort  ;  but 
if  the  purpose  had  in  view,  in  undertaking  this  sketch 
at  all,  is  to  be  accomplished,  it  is  by  exhibiting  the 
heart  laid  open  before  God, — the  jealous  search  after 
secret  sin,  and  the  humble  contrition  for  it.  This 
was  Mary's  season  of  sorest  conflict ;  and  it  is  much 
to  be  observed  that,  in  the  midst  of  it,  she  never  lost 
her  confidence  that  God  would  make  a  perfect  work 
in  her  soul.  The  child-like  simplicity  of  her  love  and 
trust  is  very  touching,  and  may  be  traced  to  her  hap- 
piness in  having  been  awakened,  through  regenera- 
ting grace,  at  so  early  an  age.  Had  she  only  a  year 
or  two  before  this  time  of  trial  given  herself  up  to 
Christ;  and  acquired  the  habit  of  prayer,  her  conflict 
must  have  been  sharper !  the  former  course  of  her 
thoughts  would  have  acquired  a  fearful  dominion  over 
her,  and  she  might  have  felt  as  if  she  were  cast  off 
from  his  presence  ;  but  it  was  not  so  with  her  :  she 
was  still  his  redeemed  one,  with  whose  soul  he  had 
"  been  at  charges"  long  before ;  and  she  was  assured 
tliat  his  purpose  to  sanctify  her  for  himself  could 
not  change.  "  I  am  still  his  child,"  said  the  sweet 
mourner. — Happy  they  who  surrender  themselves 
to  the  Lord  in  youth.  "  They  who  are  washed, 
need  not  save  to  wash  their  feet,  but  are  clean  every 
whit."  It  ought  to  be  remarked  also,  that,  while  her 
own  concealed  uneasiness  led  her  to  imagine  that  her 
conduct  was  not  what  it  ought  to  be  in  the  family, 
she  was  comforting  and  helpful  as  a  daughter  ;  and  as 
a  sister,  she  was  tutoress,  counsellor,  or  sympathizing 
friend,  at  all  times.  If  her  spirit  was  bowed  down,  her 


84  MEMOIR    Of 

brow  was  serene  ;  if  her  mind  was  anxious,  her  cov 
duct  was  uniformly  mild  and  dutiful. 

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

Diary. — "  Berwick,  Nov.  14. — I  have  been  living 
quietly  here,  and  time  slips  through  my  fingers  fast. 
My  dear  aunt  seems  to  have  comfort  in  my  presrcnce, 
and  I  give  up  my  own  will,  as  much  as  I  can,  to  hers. 
There  is  little  outward  temptation,  but  much  from 
within  ;  and  I  fear  lest  I  let  time  pass  without  the 
benefit  I  hoped  to  derive.  Let  me  renew  my  cfl'orts. 
I  have  tried  to  employ  my  mind  during  my  lonely 
walks  on  the  best  things.  On  Sunday,  the  10th,  1  en- 
joyed a  good  deal  of  prayer,  and  remembered  the  pre- 
ceding one.  But,  for  the  last  two  days,  '  the  cage  of 
unclean  birds'  has  had  more  influence  in  my  heart, 
and  prayer  has  seemed  less  dear  and  less  necessary. 
I  can  trust  to  no  frame  of  mind :  but  this  morning, 
when  I  read  of  Jesus'  resurrection,  I  felt  that  I  could 
trust  him.  0,  I  am  his,  why  do  I,  then,  so  often  for 
get  him  ?  To-morrow  is  the  Sabbath.  Is  my  heart 
in  a  Sabbath  frame  ? 

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

"Friday,  2'J. — ^I  have  not  this  week  been  lively  in 
secret  prayer,  and  therefore  I  do  not  feel  at  peace.  I 
have  been  much  interrupted  during  the  day,  and  have 


MARY   LUNDIE   DUNCAN.  85 

sat  late  to  do  something  for  my  mina.  But  thus  my 
soul  has  suflercd  ;  for,  by  the  time  I  went  to  prayer,  1 
have  been  sleepy  and  luslless,  so  as  to  have  difficulty 
in  keeping  myself  up.  It  is  dilFicult  to  watch  the 
very  point,  which,  if  transgressed  is  wrong.  I  don't 
like  to  let  my  mind  rest, — at  least,  not  more  than  ne- 
cessary ;  but  I  will  try  to  improve  the  flying  hours 
better,  doing  what  I  can  in  the  day  time,  consistently 
with  cheering  my  aunt,  and  obeying  her  little  behests. 

I  have  thought  much  of  dear  F ,  in  her  little  room 

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

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

8 


86  MEMOIR    OF 

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

"  REMINISCENCE    ON    LEAVING    KELSO. 

"  There  is  a  spot  where  memory  loves  to  rest, — 

A  scene  whose  iiiuige,  pictured  in  my  breast, 

Is  twined  with  all  that's  beautiful  and  dear, 

Witii  all  that  weeps  uHection's  mournful  tear — 

My  home  ! — by  the  soft  sunshine  of  thy  glades, 

Thy  daisied  pastures,  mixed  with  forest  shades  ; 

The  gentle  breeze,  that  fans  thy  waving  tree  ; 

By  thy  sweet  wild-flowers,  I'll  remembers  thee  ! 

And  thou,  my  native  stream,  whose  waveless  flow, 

Whether  thou  laugh'st  in  morning's  roseate  glow, 

Or  spread'st  thy  bosom  to  the  noontide  beam, 

Or  smil'st  in  beauty  at  the  sunset's  gleam. 

Art  lovely  still. — Bright  stream,  farewell  to  thee  ! 

Thy  silvery  waters  flow  no  more  for  me  : 

No  more  for  me  the  music  of  thy  play. 

When  lengthening  shades  proclaim  the  close  of  day. 

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

One  halcyon  hour,  when  thou  wert  loveliest : 

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

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

When  courting  solitude,  at  balmy  even, 

I  sought  for  peace,  in  communing  with  heaven. 

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

All  sparkling  in  day's  last  and  teuderest  beam  ; 

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

Were  trembling  in  the  golden  light  it  gave  ; 

And  breezes  stirred  the  incense  of  the  air, 

As  though  some  Spirit  kept  his  Sabbath  there  ; 

It  seemed,  as  if  those  deep  and  spacious  skies, 

That  kindled  earth  with  their  celestial  dyes, 

Shot  rays  of  glory  from  some  heavenly  clime, 

To  bless  the  sabbath  of  the  sons  of  time, 

Aud  raise  the  soul,  on  contemplation's  wing. 

To  the  pure  source  whence  endless  pleasures  spring — 

A  foretaste  of  that  glorious  land  of  light, 

Where  those  who  love  tlie  Lamb  shall  dwell  in  robes  of  whit» 


MARY   LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  87 


CHAPTER    V, 


CORRESPONDENCE    AND    DAIRY. 

Diary. — "Edinburgh,  Jan.  13,  1824. — Up  at  four 
to  see  Cornelius  off.  I  felt  sad  when  he  set  out  in 
the  dark  and  damp,  and  thought  of  his  many  disad- 
vantages in  living  alone.  Do  I  pray  enough  for  my 
brother?     My  heart  condemns  me." 

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

friend  F .     I  have  not  of  late  prized  this  means 

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

When  George  Thompson,  the  eloquent  pleader  for 
the  abolition  of  slavery,  was  galled  to  visit  the  United 
States,  in  the  hope  that  his  remarkable  power  of  in- 
fluencing the  public  mind  might  be  beneficial  there, 
we  find  the  youthful  philanthropist,  whose  ardent 
mind  glowed  with  more  exalted  sympathies  and  felt 
an  interest  in  loftier  occupations,  than  usually  kindle 
the  enthusiasm  of  girls  of  her  age,  embodying  her 
desires  for  his  success  in  the  following  verses  : — • 


88  MEMOIR   OF 


"  To  George  Thompson,  Esq. 

"  Edinburgh,  Jan.  183L 

"Ah  !  what  can  tempt  your  wandering  stens 

In  foreign  lands  to  roam  ! 
Ah  !  why  forsake  your  native  plains 

And  leave  your  peaceful  home? 

Say,  will  it  be  your  lot  to  find 

Where'er  your  footsteps  turn, 
A  land  as  dear,  and  hearts  as  kind 

As  those  you  leave  to  mourn  ? — 

Yet  go — heaven-favoured  hero,  go  ! 

Pursue  your  glorious  plan  ; 
Abridge  the  weight  of  human  wo, 

And  raise  the  slave  to  man. 

Blest  purpose  !     Soul-ennobling  aim ! 

Worthy  a  generous  breast ; 
Of  all  the  schemes  that  man  can  frame, 

The  noblest  and  the  best ! 

For  what  can  sweeter  joy  impart. 

What  purer  pleasure  give. 
Than  to  relieve  the  aching  heart, 

And  bid  the  wretched  live  ? 

This  bliss  by  you,  so  often  felt,. 

How  gladly  will  you  claim, 
When  grateful  thousands  weeping  join 

To  bless  your  cherished  name. 

May  gentle  breezes  waft  your  sails 

Swift  o'er  the  western  main. 
And  fortune's  smiles,  and  prospering  gales. 

Restore  you  soon  again ! 

Heaven  bless  your  cause  !  your  country's  prayers 

Attend  you  o'er  the  sea  : 
Go  !  break  the  chain  that  slavery  wears 

And  bid  the  oppressed  be  free  !" 

** March  8.— Have  had  delight  in  the  Life  of  M  J. 
Graham :  her  remarks  on  conducting  study  to  God's 
glory,  and  drawing  out  the  mind  to  its  full  extent,  as 
a  precious  talent,  and  his  gift,  pleased    me    much. 


MARY    LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  89 

Let  me  try,  like  her,  to  bring  all  things  to  tlie  '  Test 
ol  Truth.'  On  Sabbath  day  attended  the  communion 
at  Lady  Glenorchy's.  Mr.  Bruce  m  serving  a  table, 
spoke  of  the  value  God  has  for  us,  and  our  conse- 
quent duty  of  being  a  peculiar  and  separate  people, 
as,  for  the  sake  of  being  served  by  us,  he  had  given 
his  Son.  Too  light  have  been  my  impressions  of 
that  blessed  day ;  how  soon  earthly  things  warp  my 
soul,  and  absorb  my  attention  !  Let  me  keep  fast  by 
my  hours  of  retirement,  as  the  only  means  of  receiv- 
ing spiritual  life,  and  obtaining  the  blessed  Spirit  of 
ray  God." 

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

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

To  one  of  her  class-fellows. 

"Edinburgh,  May  5,  1834. — I  had  been  longing  to 
hear  of  your  welfare  and  pursuits  for  days  before  the 
arrival  of  your  letters,  and  was  a  wee  bit  disappointed 
that  there  was  no  line  for  me  ;  but  it  was  only  be- 
cause 'all  men  seem  to  themselves  of  some  impor- 
tance ;'  so,  at  least,  says  my  counsellor,  Pascal,  thai 
man  of  many  thoughts.  My  sober  judgment  soon 
told  me  you  had  chosen  your  correspondents  wisely. 

*  *  *  Is  it  not  most  animating  to  feel  oneself 
beloved  by  those  who  are  dear  to  us  ?  To  me  it  is 
the  most  exhilarating  of  all  feelings ;  and  we,  dear 
friend,  shall  continue  to  love  and  pray  for  each  other, 
whether  we  are  together  or  divided  by  many  miles. 
8* 


90  MEMOIR   OF 

Last  week  I  had  a  long  letter  from  my  dearest  F . 

So  long  a  time  had  elapsed,  that  I  feared  she  had 
forgotten  her  northern  correspondent,  or  did  not  krow 
how  large  a  share  she  possesses  in  my  heart ;  but 
this  sweet  message  of  love  bears  no  token  of  forget- 
fulness.  She  urges  me  onward  to  the  Celestial  City, 
where,  though  our  lot  be  far  distant  here,  we  shall 
together  bow  before  our  Saviour.  Yes,  my  friend ! 
it  is  a  glorious  prospect  to  be  in  His  presence  for 
evermore,  and  to  associate  with  all  those  who  are 
formed  after  his  likeness  ;  and  it  is  sweet  to  hold  con- 
verse with  the  loved  companions  of  our  short  pilgr'  t- 
age,  those  who  have  helped  us  to  draw  nearer  to  or 
Lord,  who  have  poured  consolation  into  our  sj  /its 
when  wounded,  or  doubled  our  joys  by  their  »  !m- 
pathy.     It  is   strange   when   I   think  of   my  friend 

Miss  R ,  that  my  thoughts  always  flow  in  ihis 

current.  Our  intercourse  has  been  nearly  all  con- 
nected with  our  highest  hopes,  and  I  trust  the  per- 
petuity of  our  love  will  much  enhance  its  value. 

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

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

so  well  as  the  wooded  slopes  of  C e.     Do  run 

about  and  be  as  wild — I  was  going  to  say — as  an 
ass's  colt !  but  stopped,  lest  you  should  think,  which 
is  not  the  case,  that  I  meant  to  insinuate  any  affinity 
between  my  fair  friend  and  that  interesting  quadruped. 
No,  no!  B.  B.'s  lessons  in  botany  and  all  the  sci- 
ences, profound  and  light,  will  preclude  all  possibility 
of  this. — There  is  more  danger  of  your  becoming 
a  blue.  •  *  •  Our  little  friends  at  Stock- 
bridge  school  go  on  as  well  as  usual ;  I  really  re- 
spect and  like  the  teacher.  *  •  •  You  will  think 
of  us  next  Sabbath — Do  pray  for  me.  I  could  tell 
you  of  the  coldness  and  carelessness  of  my  heart, 
but  I  would  not  sadden  you  with  my  confessiocs ; 


MAIiy   LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  91 

only  ask  that  I  may  know  more  of  the  hidden  love  of 
God." 

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

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


92  MEMOIR    OF 

prized,  and  yet  the  open  door  to  the  throne  of  mercy 
be  so  often  passed  by  1  I  was  struck  with  the  con- 
tradiction in  this,  when  this  morning  I  had  many 
wandering  thoughts  in  prayer,  and  hoped  lliat  i/ou 
would  pray  for  me.  Ah!  surely,  if  I  truly  desired 
to  grow  in  grace,  my  own  prayers  would  be  more 
frequent  and  earnest ;  for  what  can  be  more  plain 
or  more  encouraging  than  the  command,  '  ask  and 
ve  shall  receive  ?'  My  God  bears  long  with  an 
untoward  child,  and  this  makes  me  hope,  that  my 
slow  walk,  and  frequent  deviation  from  the  path  of 
life,  may  be  changed  for  that  '  unwearied  running,' 
which  must  make  present  objects  lose  their  false 
importance,  and  heaven  and  holiness  be  viewed 
aright.  Is  it  not  cheering,  dear  F.,  to  feel  that 
strength  is  not  in,  or  from  ourselves,  but  '  our  help 
Cometh  from  the  Lord  V  To  him,  then,  let  us  always 
return,  and  never  be  satisfied  with  anything  that  may 
pretend  to  the  name  of  happiness,  short  of  His  love. 
It  is  delightful  to  me  to  commune  with  you,  dear  fel- 
low-pilgrim, even  at  the  distance  of  so  many  miles, 
and  to  feel  that  the  bond  which  unites  us  is  our  fel- 
lowship with  heaven.  To  love  in  Christ  is  the  hap- 
piest earthly  feeling,  and  I  do  trust  it  is  thus  we  love 
each  other.  It  seems  a  preparation  for  another  state 
of  being,  where,  indeed,  God  will  be  all  in  all ;  and, 
though  we  are  widely  separated  here,  may  we  not 
worship  together  there  1  The  continuance  of  our 
friendship  makes  me  prize  it  most ;  for  I  think  it  will 
not  die  with  us.  No!  what  belongs  to  the  soul  can- 
not die  ;  and  if  you  should  in  time  find  out  all  my 
w^eakness,  and  cease  to  love  me,  or  if  long  absence 
should  even  break  ofT  our  correspondence,  yet  in  hea- 
ven, purified  and  made  one  in  Jesus,  you  could  not 
but  love  me  again ;  and  not  the  less  for  remembering 
that  in  this  vale  we  held  sweet  converse,  and  often 
met  in  spirit  before  the  Lord.  But  my  dear  friend 
will  smile  at  this  glance  into  the  future  and  the  uu 


MARY    LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  93 

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

To  her  Edinburgh  class-fellow  she  wrote  in  June : — 
•     *     *     "  Though  you  may  rejoice  in  your  ab- 
sence   from   dusty   streets,  you   must  allow    me    to 
cloud  your  sunny  mind  by  telling  you  that  you  have 
•  Rev.  H.  Grey,  St.  Mary's  Edinburgh. 


94  MEMOIR    OF 

missed  wnat  has  been  most  interesting.  We  poor 
sojourners  in  busy  haunts  of  men,  have  some  com- 
pensation for  our  exclusion  from  the  loveliness  of 
early  summer  in  the  country,  in  seeing  those,  whose 
names  we  have  been  accustomed  to  venerate,  and 
hearing  discussions  that  lose  half  their  interest  when 
they  have  passed  through  the  ordeal  of  a  reporter's 
pen.  I  need  not  tell  you  of  this  most  satisfying 
General  Assembly.  Think  how  it  has  advanced  in 
liberal  feeling  within    three    years.      Let    us,    dear 

M ,  pray  for  the  peace  of  Jerusalem,  that   the 

spirit  of  her  King  may,  in  yet  larger  measure,  de- 
scend on  those  who  minister  in  his  sanctuary.  To- 
day, I  passed  a  short  time  in  the  gay  scene  in 
the  Experimental  Gardens,  but  I  could  not  enjoy  the 
flowers  for  the  swarms  of  '  knights  and  ladies  gay' 
who  crowded  the  walks  ;  still  there  is  something  in- 
spiriting in  timing  our  footsteps  to  the  cadence  of 
martial  music  ;  and  I  could  have  fancied  myself  in 
some  promenade  of  gay  France,  where  all  the  idle 
happy  creatures  (an  anomaly  I  own)  meet  to  while 
away  their  hours  amid  sights  and  sounds,  and  odours 
in  blended  beauty ;  but  it  outraged  my  northern  feel- 
ing, with  regard  to  what  a  garden  should  be.  Is 
there  not  in  the  word  garden  something  that  ex- 
presses retirement  and  quiet,  that  could  soothe  the 
mind  when  ruffled,  and  soften  it  when  gay  1  Does  it 
not  bring  to  view  Cowper  in  his  alcove,  and  Hannah 
More  among  her  clustering  roses  at  Barley-wood,  or 
our  first  parents  in  their  heaven-appointed  home, 
where  their  employ  was  to  learn  the  wisdom  and 
love  of  God  from  every  blossom  that  opened  to  the 
sun  ?  And  does  it  not  recall  calm  hours  that  we,  our- 
selves, have  spent,  communing  with  nature,  as  if  fol-" 
lowing  the  thoughts  of  some  great  mind  far  away 
from  outward  distractions,  and  drawing  near  in  our 
solitude  to  Him  who  made  the  blades  of  grass  we 
press  beneath  our  feet,  and  made  us,  immortal,  high 


MARY    LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  95 

ly-favoured  creatures  ?  Many  such  thoughts  used  to 
fill  my  heart  in  the  garden  at  my  own  sweet  home  ; 
and  would  you  believe,  the  floating  scene  of  this 
morning  recalled  those  feelings  vividly  ?  You  will 
not  smile  at  this,  when  you  remember  the  pain  of 
being  obliged  to  leave  every  inanimate  object  that 
has  been  long  endeared.  But  after  all,  change  of 
place  should  not  strongly  influence  the  real  Chris- 
tian, for  his  Master  never  leaves  him,  and  His  peace 
in  the  heart  makes  even  the  wilderness  to  blossom  as 

the  rose.     Have  you,   my   M ,  had  your  breast 

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

To  a  friend  who  had  lost  her  brother  in  a  foreign 
country. 
*  *  *  "  Alas !  what  can  earthly  comfort  avail 
when  a  cloud  of  doubt  hangs  over  the  departing 
hours  of  '  one  whom  our  souls  loved.'  Yet,  my  be- 
loved  M ,  the  balm  of  Gilead  is  sufficient  even 

for  this,  though  to  a  Christian  the  most  afflictive  trial 
that  can  befal  him ;  and  you,  I  know,  have  felt  that 
the  Sun  of  righteousness  shines  bright  even  amid 
thick  darkness.  *  *  *  It  not  unfrequently  occurs, 
that  the  God,  whose  footsteps  are  not  known,  leads 
some  wanderer  from  his  fold  into  a  far  country,  where 
no  Sabbath  bell  is  heard,  and  there,  remote  from  hu- 
man aid,  teaches  him  by  his  Spirit,  that  eternity  alone 
i  wortii  living  for,  and  that  true  religion  alone  is  the 
safeguard  of  any  individual.    Poor  Nugent  Richmond 


^  MEMOIR    or 

was  so  taught  on  the  bosom  of  the  trackless  waters, 
and  led  on,  in  an  affecting  manner,  through  various 
trials,  till  his  Father  saw  him  ripe  for  heaven,  and 
called  him  hence.  Tliis  is  a  severe  test  of  faith,  but 
may  it  issue  in  the  brightening  of  all  your  Christian 
graces.  It  is  well  to  learn  to  give  glory  to  God, 
even  in  the  fires.  I  understand  the  clinging  affection 
which  this  sorrow,  along  with  the  departure  of  your 
elder  brother,  makes  you  feel  for  the  younger ;  yet, 
do  not  rest  on  any  earthly  support ;  go  at  once,  and 
without  reservation,  to  your  God,  and  in  trusting  hira 
you  shall  be  greatly  blessed.  Try  to  gather  the  fair 
fruits  of  sanctified  affliction  in  these  dark  days,  my 
friend ;  do  not  seek,  by  other  things,  to  weaken 
the  impression  that  God  is  dealing  with  you,  but  keep 
close  to  him,  and  become  all  that  he  designs  this  first 
oppressing  grief  should  render  you.  Your  spiritual 
peace,  your  singleness  of  eye  may  be  greater  now 
than  ever,  if  only  you  make  use  of  the  sluices  that 
have  been  opened  in  your  soul,  which,  painful  though 
they  be,  form  a  channel  for  the  healing  waters  to  flow 
in.  Does  not  the  world  seem  '  a  vain  show '  to  you 
now  ?  Oh !  I  never  knew  the  meaning  of  these 
words  till  ray  beloved  and  revered  father  was  taken 
from  me,  and  then  they  rang  in  my  ears  for  weeks, 
and  seemed  to  be  written  in  their  full  meaning  on  jny 
soul.  How  new  the  old  and  familiar  language  of 
Scripture  seems,  when  a  second  being,  as  it  were,  is 
awakened  in  us  by  sufferings.  What  rich  mines  of 
treasure  the  promises  become,  and  how  we  hold  by 
them,  sure  for  o»ce  that  no  other  stay  can  prop  us." 

To  her  correspondent  near  London. 
"  Edin.,  June  8,  1834. — I  wonder  if  you  love  the 
Psalms  as  I  do  ;  they  have  so  often  cheered  me  when 
sad,  and  filled  my  heart  with  sweet  and  peaceful 
thoughts,  that  I  feel  as  if  some  of  them  were  peculi- 
arly my  own ;  I  feel  that  they  have  been  my  songs  in 


MARY   LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  97 

the  house  of  my  pilgrimage.  I  like  to  have  my  feel- 
ings at  once  expressed  and  deepened  by  the  worda 
of  inspiration,  and  to  believe  that  the  same  emotion 
which  tuned  the  harp  of  David  of  old  is  in  a  faint  de- 
gree possessing  me  ;  and,  in  God's  own  time,  a  harp 
of  purer  tone  shall  be  given  us,  and  along  with  the 
Minstrel  of  Israel,  we  shall  tune  them  to  the  praise 
of  his  Lord  and  ours.  Why  is  it  then,  that  I  am  con- 
tent to  be  so  far,  immeasurably  far  behind  him  now, 
in  devotion  of  spirit  and  Christian  attainment?  It 
startles  me  to  think  of  the  high  and  blessed  hopes  I 
cherish,  and  then  to  return  to  my  daily  walk,  and  see 
how  little  it  is  regulated  by  them,  or  by  a  motive  more 
constraining  still,  the  love  of  my  Saviour.  I  know 
you  will  say,  your  trust  must  be  fixed  on  Him  alone  ; 
you  must  not  expect  to  find  any  thing  in  yourself  on 
which  to  lean.  True  !  but  what  is  it  that  prevents 
my  coming  more  frequently  into  His  presence  by 
prayer,  and  why  is  it,  that,  when  there,  my  desires 
are  so  languid,  and  at  times  I  even  seem  to  have  no- 
thing to  ask — I  do  not  mean  that  I  never  heartily 
pray — Oh  !  I  should  indeed  be  miserable  were  it  so  ; 
but  I  have  been  cold  of  late  ;  I  want  quickening.  *  *  * 
1  feel  painfully  how  easy  it  is  for  me  to  bear  the  char- 
acter of  a  Christian,  while  I  have  very  slightly  '  taken 
up  my  cross,'  and  very  imperfectly  renounced  the 
love  of  this  vain  world.  Dearest  friend,  how  shall  I 
entirely  belong  to  Jesus  !  Oh  !  animate  me,  by  your 
love,  to  love  Him  more,  and  do  not  fear  to  say  what 
you  think  of  my  evil  heart,  for  how  shall  it  become 
purified  unless  truly  dealt  with !  I  sometimes  fear 
life  has  for  me  too  much  that  is  engrossing ;  though, 
two  years  ago,  I  did  not  suppose  I  would  again  esti- 
mate it  as  aught  but  a  vain  show.  How  strange  is 
the  tendency  to  seek  for  rest,  where  all  is  fleeting  !  1 
have  had  a  lesson  of  great  pain  that  it  is  so,  in  the  re- 
moval of  my  most  dear  friend,  Isabella  Gordon.  You 
have  no  idea  what  a  blank  it  is  to  me  to  think  she  is 
9 


98  MEMOIR   OF 

no  longer  on  earth  ;  though  far  separated,  we  could 
think  of  each  other  with  the  happiness  of  those  who 
know  that  such  remembrances  are  mutual,  and  the 
hope  of  seeing  her  in  Scotland  this  summer,  had  been 
held  out  to  her  friends  here,  and  had  given  me  lively- 
pleasure  for  months  ;  but  she  is  gone — quite  gone, 
and  earth  shall  not  be  our  place  of  meeting.  1  had 
believed  it  a  sweet  friendship,  formed  to  add  to  the 
enjoyments  of  time  ;  but,  though  it  has  not  proved  so, 
the  memory  of  this  loved  one  will  continue  most  pre- 
cious, till  we  meet  to  love  more  intensely,  and  more 
in  the  Lurd  than  we  could  have  done  here.  I  cannot 
bear  to  think  of  her  mother  and  sister's  grief;  it  must 
be  overwhelming  :  and  her  poor  husband,  who  so 
lately  thought  he  had  secured  such  a  treasure  for  his 
own — how  great  must  his  desolation  be  !  She  was  a 
creature  so  full  of  spirit  and  liveliness,  that  I  never 
thought  of  her  in  connexion  with  death.  *  *  There 
is  no  cloud  too  thick  to  be  penetrated  by  the  beams 
of  divine  love,  and  where  they  shine,  how  can  it  all 
be  darkness  ?  They  are  often  most  glorious  and  re- 
viving, when  creature  comforts  fail.  *  *  Ilow  the 
passing  thought  of  losing  those  who  are  entwined  with 
our  very  being,  deepens  and  hallows  our  love  to  them  ! 
How  it  makes  us  anticipate  every  wish,  and  strive  ia 
communing  with  them,  to  catch  the  glow  that  rests  on 
their  souls  ere  they  are  called  from  us !  Oh !  how 
perfectly  can  1  enter  into  your  feelings,  and  how  ear 
nesily  I  pray,  that,  whatever  befalls  you,  may  tend  to 
fit  you  for  your  mansion  in  Immanuel's  land  the  land, 
we  love  the  best ;  and  to  which  every  friend  who  is 
gathered,  draws  our  hearts  more  closely.  Help  me 
to  praise  Him,  while  we  are  still  in  this  far-ofl'  coun- 
try, and  we  shall  sing  with  gladsome  voices,  when 
fear  and  care  are  known  to  us  only  in  grateful  remem- 
brance." 


MARY   LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  99 

To  the  same  friend  under  a  family  bereavement. 

"  Edinburgh,  September  19,  1834. —  *  *  *  I  long  to 
know  how  you  have  sustained  the  blow,  and  what 
have  been  the  exercises  of  your  soul  since  it  was 
struck.  I  trust  you  have  been  enabled  throughout,  to 
view  it  but  as  '  the  sterner  voice  of  love,'  and  to  find 
rest  from  all  your  grief  at  the  footstool  of  the  throne. 
Oh  !  what  place  of  refuge  is  like  this,  when  heart  and 
flesh  fail  ?  Where  can  we  flee  for  support,  but  to  the 
rock  of  ages  ?  To  hide  beneath  the  shadow  of  the 
Almighty,  when  the  storms  of  sorrow  beat  around  us, 
is  '  perfect  peace.'  To  call  him  Abba,  Father,  while 
he  is  depriving  us  of  what  we  loved  the  most,  is  some- 
thing like  a  foretaste  of  heaven,  where  He  shall  be 
all  in  all.  This  hidden  joy  you  daily  experience,  for 
He  has  long  been  your  portion  ;  and  his  perfect  ful- 
ness is  never  felt  till  some  delights  have  withered, 
and  our  eyes  have  been  opened  to  the  vanity  of  time, 
and  to  the  nearness  of  eternity  ;  earth  fades  away  as 
we  follow  the  glorified  spirit  to  its  new  and  holy 
abode,  and  attempt  to  join  in  the  song  of  praise  which 
fills  the  upper  sanctuary.  A  tearful  and  faltering  song 
it  will  be,  my  loved  friend,  so  long  as  we  are  here, 
yet  not  disregarded  by  the  God  of  compassion,  and 
not  the  less  sweet,  because  a  sense  of  unworthiness 
almost  makes  it  die  on  our  lips.  He  will  one  day  give 
it  the  strength  and  purity  of  angels'  praise,  and  we 
shall  adore  him  face  to  face.  I  know  not  a  more  in- 
tensely delightful  occupation  of  mind,  than  to  look 
stedfastly  upward  for  a  time  to  see  the  Lamb  of  God 
pleading  for  us  with  pity  and  love  ;  and  the  Holy 
Spirit  breathing  around  influences  of  grace,  that  make 
heaven  what  it  is — a  place  of  perfect  purity  ;  and  to 
see  the  ransomed  throng  casting  their  crowns  bci'ore 
the  most  High,  in  the  height  of  their  grateful  love, 
and  to  recognize  amongst  them  some  whom  we  have 
known  as  companions  of  our  pilgrimage,  when  they, 
like  us,  were  creatures  of  sin  and  infirmity,  longing 


100  MEMOIR    OF 

for  that  full  converse  with  God  which  they  could  not 
here  enjoy,  sympalhiziufr  in  our  sorrow  for  sin,  and 
urging  us  onward  to  the  home  they  now  have  entered. 
True,  they  arc  ours  no  longer,  but  they,  as  well  as 
we,  are  of  the  family  of  Jesus, — sweet,  indissoluble 
bond !  Oh !  to  be  among  those  blessed  ones  in  his 
presence.  The  time  will  soon  come,  dear  sister  in 
Christ,  and  then  no  more  weeping,  no  more  pain,  no 
more  sinning  against  infinite  goodness.  I  pray  for 
you,  that  the  port  of  endless  rest  may  be  brought  so 
near  to  you  in  contemplation,  as  to  enable  you  to  feel, 
that  though  your  all  were  taken  away,  you  would  be 
still  rich,  still  happy. 

"  It  eflects  me  greatly  to  tliink,  that  while  you  were 
suffering,  and  I  knew  it  not,  I  was  enjoying  a  greater 
pleasure  than  I  have  for  a  long  time,  in  visiting  some 
of  the  loveliest  parts  of  Scotland  in  company  with  dear 
friends.  I  little  thought  how  you  were  engaged  when 
I  was  tracing  the  bounteous  hand  of  God  in  fertile 
valleys,  or  seeing  the  precious  things  of  the  '  lasting 
hills,'  that  rise  among  lakes  and  rivers.  Ah !  had  I 
known,  you  would  have  been  borne  in  my  heart 
through  all  my  wanderings ;  but  now  I  shall  daily 
pray  for  you,  that  you  may  produce  the  peaceable 
fruits  of  righteousness,  through  this  chastisement  of 
your  God.  Is  it  not  joy  to  have  a  dear  friend  safe — 
safe  with  Jesus.  To  think  of  you  in  your  sorrow, 
makes  me  love  you  more  ;  you  will  learn  much  in 
sorrow  that  you  did  not  know  till  now ;  and  may  I 
hope,  that,  when  strength  and  inclination  permit,  you 
will  tell  me  of  the  tilings  that  you  have  seen  and 
heard,  that  I  njay  enter  into  your  joys  as  well  as  your 
sorrows.     Farewell,  sweet  Friend." 

The  next  letter,  from  which  a  portion  is  extracted, 
IS  addressed  to  the  same  precious  Christian  friend, 
and  in  it,  for  tlie  first  time,  she  mentions  the  engage- 
ment she  hud  formed  with  Mr.  W  W.  Duncan,  the 
youngest  son  of  her  father's  highly-esteemed  friend, 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  101 

and  old  college  companion,  tlie  Rev.  Dr.  Duncan  of 
Ruthwell  : — 

''Edinburgh,  November  20,  1834. —  *  *  *  How 
sweet  is  it  to  resign  our  treasures  to  a  God  of  love, 
and  to  follow  them  in  thought  to  the  sacred  bliss  of 
His  immediate  presence,  where  they  expand  into  new 
vigour,  and  a  joy  which  they  could  not  here  have 
known,  and  lived.  Does  not  the  one  thought  of  their 
exemption  from  sin,  their  freedom  from  the  dread  of 
ever  again  grieving  the  Saviour,  make  one  long  to  be 
with  them,  where  all  is  peace  and  purity  ?  Oh  !  to 
be  ready  when  the  call  is  heard !  Strange,  that  sin 
should  ever  acquire  on  ascendancy  in  us,  when  we 
know  that  '  the  end'  draws  near  !  Would  that  it  were 
so  nailed  to  the  cross  of  Jesus  that  we  could  never 
see  it  in  any  light  but  that  of  abhorrence.  I  wish  I 
were  near  you  for  a  little  time,  my  dearest  friend  ;  I 
selfishly  wish  it,  because  I  am  sure  you  would  help 
my  slow  and  wavering  feet  to  run  the  race  set  before 
me.  I  have  profitted  little  by  the  trials  that  have  en- 
tered into  my  lot,  and  each  day  discloses  some  ex\\  to 
be  struggled  against,  or  some  corruption  that  I  had 
long  since  thought  in  a  measure  vanquished,  rising 
with  new  vigour,  and  surprising  me  into  sin.  How 
difficult  is  it  to  keep  the  heart,  and  how  impossible  to 
serve  God  without  doing  so. 

"  Our  circle  of  acquaintance  is  on  the  increase,  but 
it  is  not  less  than  self-denial  to  pass  much  time  in  so- 
ciety, unless  it  consists  o{  friends,  and  those  who  can 
improve  and  sympathize  with  me  in  the  best  things. 
This  feeling  grows  upon  me,  and  leads  me  to  evade 
it  in  many  ways.  I  fear  this  is  selfish,  yet  how  little 
good  can  I  do  in  company,  and  how  little  do  I  ever 
obtain.  Tell  me  what  you  think  about  this,  my  dear 
friend.  A  true  friend  in  Christ  is  invaluable,  and  the 
few  who  are  so  kind  as  to  be  my  friends  in  this  sense, 
possess  my  warmest  love ;  I  hope  I  may  always 
count  you  among  the  number. 
9* 


102  MEMOIR.    OF 

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

*  *  *  "  Why  is  it,  my  loved  friend,  that  we 
have  so  little  real  Christian  fellowship  with  those  we 
love,  while  health  and  time  remain  to  us  ?  There  is 
so  often  an  approach  to  the  subject,  without  its  lead- 
ing to  any  thing  that  may  warm  our  affections,  or  ele- 
vate our  dull  hearts  farther  above  the  passing  scene. 
Is  it  that  the  vanities  of  time  engross  us,  so  that  we 
are  unwilling  to  embody  in  words,  wishes  which  we 
feel  to  be  too  evanescent,  lest  the  action  of  the  next 
hour  should  bring  upon  us  a  charge  of  inconsistency  ? 
Ah  !  we  do  not  remember  that  the  Searcher  of  hearts 
knows  all  that  may  be  concealed  from  our  fellow-pil- 
grims. I  am  convinced  there  woidd  be  more  consist- 
ent watcld'ulness  if  we  sometimes  gave  them  a  look 
of  what  was  passing  in  our  hearts  ;  and  this  is  only 
an  incidental  advantage  among  many  direct  ones,  for 
we  might  learn  much  by  placing  our  hopes  and  fears 
by  the  side  of  others.  For  myself,  I  feel  that,  if  I 
were  greatly  rejoicing  in  the  hope  which  maketh  not 
ashamed,  the  reference  to  it  would  be  more  frequent 
and  more  fervent  than  it  is.  I  have  been  trying  for 
the  last  fortnight,  but  I  find  a  danger  of  being  obtru- 
sive, and  injuring  the  best  of  causes.  Truly,  wisdom 
is  necessary  to  the  child  of  God.     •     *     * 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  103 

"  \Vc  are  not  without  our  trials  this  winter ;  my 
brother  G.  is  unable  to  attend  school.  *  *  •  if 
this  illness  be  the  means  of  leading  him  to  the  Sa- 
viour, it  will  be  cause  of  joy,  and  not  of  grief.  He 
loves  mamma  and  listens  to  all  she  says  to  him  with 
deep  interest ;  but  how  delightful  it  would  be  to  see 
him  dcA'ote  himself  heartily  to  God.  You  know  the 
heart  of  a  sister,  when  she  longs  to  see  her  brother 
walk  decidedly  and  steadily  in  the  truth.  Will  you 
join  me  in  praying  for  this  dear  boy  ?     *     *     • 

"  I  am  informed  by  a  mutual  friend  that  you  have 
heard  a  piece  of  intelligence  concerning  me,  which  I 
am  at  a  loss  to  know  what  wind  ha-s  blown  southward. 
My  dearest  F.,  I  ought  to  have  told  you  of  this  before, 
but  for  my  great  aversion  to  write  about  it.  Yes,  my 
dear  friend  !  my  lot  is  cast — and  I  trust  it  is  the  Lord, 
my  heavenly  and  only  Father,  who  has  decided  it.  I 
have  been  engaged,  since  spring,  to  the  son  of  my 
beloved  papa's  dearest  friend.  I  look  forward  to  the 
future,  if  with  some  trembling  and  fear,  with  a  coun- 
terbalancing mixture  of  hope  in  the  God  who  has  led 
and  guided  me  all  my  life,  and  of  confidence  in  the 
friend  whom  I  have  so  deeply  trusted.  We  have  met 
during  the  summer,  but  are  now  separated.  I  feel 
that  correspondence  unfolds  points  of  character  which 
personal  intercourse  does  not  do  so  well.  You  do 
not  know  how  long  young  clergymen  in  Scotland  are 
sometimes  obliged  to  wait  before  they  obtain  a  place 
in  the  vineyard  to  which  they  have  devoted  them- 
selves. It  may  be  years, — but  we  have  from  the  first 
left  all  in  the  hands  of  our  covenant  God,  and  he  will 
do  all  things  well.  I  love  the  prospect  of  being  en- 
gaged through  life  in  winning  souls  to  Him,  and  of 
having  extended  opportunities  of  usefulness.  But  it 
is  a  responsible  and  solemn  post.  Oh !  for  a  spirit 
that  would  willingly  give  up  all  for  Jesus,  and  endure 
whatever  he  lays  upon  me.  There  are  trials  con- 
nected with  my  present  situation   which  I  did   not 


104  MEMOIR   OF 

know  before,  yet  they  are  pleasant  ones  in  one  sense. 
But  you  will  pray  for  me,  and  will  now  sometimes 
blend  another  name  with  mine  in  the  petitions  which  I 
value  above  many  things.  I  need  your  counsel,  my 
beloved  friend  ;  give  it  me  faitlilully  and  freely.  Tell 
me  to  set  my  afl'ections  on  things  above,  and  not  to 
permit  either  happiness  or  grief  to  take  too  great  pos- 
session of  me.  It  is  wrong  to  have  filled  so  much 
paper  with  what  relates  to  myself,  at  a  time  when 
your  spirit  is  so  differently  engaged  ;  but  I  know  from 
the  sorrow  I  felt  in  your  affliction,  that  you  will  not 
disregard  my  state  of  mind.  It  is  pleasant  to  forget 
self  in  sympathy  with  others ;  it  gives  new  impulse 
to  the  thought,  and  lightens  the  load  that  may  be 
weighing  us  down.  When  I  think  of  all  the  events 
of  April,  1832,  which  are  as  distinct  as  if  it  were  but 
yesterday,  the  evanescence  of  all  earthly  things  comes 
before  me.  Then  I  was  in  the  deep  waters  of  my 
first  sorrow,  and  it  seemed  as  if  I  could  never  be  again 
very  happy  here.  Those  days  looked  mournful,  but 
sacredly  beloved  :  yet  different  feelings  have  the  as- 
cendancy,— my  own  papa's  place  never  can  be  filled, 
— oh,  no,  not  in  the  least  degree  ;  but  there  is  more 
hope,  and  more  calm  happiness  in  looking  forward, 
that  I  could  then  believe  that  any  earthly  prospect 
could  afford  me.  I  want  none  but  such  as  comes 
from  God,  and  is  built  upon  his  love  ;  and  I  shall 
watch  my  deceitful  heart,  and  try  all  things  by  the 
test  of  his  word.  Heaven  is  the  only  place  where 
there  can  be  no  disappointment  or  sorrow,  and  the 
reason  is,  that  sin  is  banished  from  its  holy  mansions. 
Then  let  me  watch  against  sin,  or  the  supportes  on 
which  1  lean  will  give  way,  and  pierce  me  through. 
There  is  no  true  peace,  but  such  as  cometh  from 
above." 

Of  her  beloved  father,  whose  memory  was  present 
to  her  in  joy  and  sorrow,  and  never  failed  to  open  the 
sluices  of  filial  reverence  and  strong    afh-ction,  she 


MARY  LUNDIE  DLNCAN.  105 

writes  to  a  friend  in  Kelso,  on  occasion  of  going  to 
the  sculptor's  to  see  a  marble  tal)let  to  his  memory, 
before  it  was  sent  to  the  place  of  sepulture — a  tablet 
which  was  a  token  of  affectionate  remembrance  from 
his  parishioners : — 

"  How  feeble  is  any  memorial  in  comparison  with 
the  affection  that  delights  to  linger  round  the  departed 
— to  recall  his  image — and  to  dwell  upon  his  words. 
Is  it  not  striking,  that  even  of  those  most  loved  and 
most  lamented,  it  may  be  so  truly  said,  '  7'heir  memory 
and  their  name  is  gone  V  They  appeared  indispen- 
sable to  the  performance  of  a  thousand  duties,  and 
their  removal  seemed  likely  to  make  a  chasm  that 
could  not  soon  be  filled  ; — but  the  grave  has  closed  over 
them — they  are  gone — another  steps  into  the  vacant 
place,  taking  on  himself  the  duties,  and  acquiring  the 
interest  in  the  hearts  of  those  around  him,  which  had 
belonged  to  his  predecessor.  Is  it  not  well  that  a 
Christian's  home  and  happiness  are  in  heaven,  and 
that,  however  men  may  forgot,  their  God  remembers 
them  ?  It  makes  one  humble  to  see  how  easily  one's 
part  is  taken,  and  work  done  by  others  ;  but  at  such 
times  the  unchanging  love  of  God  becomes  unspeak- 
ably precious.  To  try  to  leave  our  lasting  remem- 
brance on  earth,  is  writing  our  name  on  the  sand  ;  but 
if  our  Lord  has  written  it  on  the  palms  of  his  hands, 
we  need  not  care  how  quicldy  the  restless  waves 
efface  it  from  the  earth," 

These  extraets  have  brought  us  near  the  close  of 
her  twentieth  year.  But  before  leaving  it,  a  gleaning 
from  the  diary,  at  various  datos,  will  put  us  in  pos- 
session of  her  views  on  some  subjects,  and  the  uni- 
form state  of  her  soul,  waiting  on,  and  following  hard 
after  God : — 

Diary. — "  June  26. — Last  night  I  read  Mr.  C.'s 
account  of  my  beloved  Isabella  Gordon,  with  many 
tears  and  longings  that,  if  God  takes  me  away  as 
eajly,  I  may  be  as  willing  to  go,  and  as  joyful  in  the 


106 


MEMOIR    OF 


prospect  of  eternity." — After  going  minutely  thniugh 
the  details  of  that  toucliing  "  entrance  into  rest,"  she 
sums  up  the  character  of  the  friend  she  so  much 
loved  and  admired,  and  whose  early  removal  so  much 
resembled  her  own : — "  My  loved  friend  had  heeu, 
she  feared,  too  happy  in  the  lew  months  of  her  mar 
ried  life.  She  was  the  charm  of  her  circle.  *  * 
She  lived  for  the  happiness  of  others — there  was  <> 
crucifixion  of  self — her  love  of  truth,  and  her  tender- 
ness of  conscience  were  great ; — it  was  her  constant 
aim  to  be  useful  to  others.  *  *  Who  would  not 
wish  to  resemble  her  who  has  been  so  suddenly  taken 
from  us,  to  a  glorious  and  early  eternity  ?  Never,  my 
friend,  shall  I  forget  thee.      We  shall  meet  again." 

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

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

"  July  28. — Yesterday  my  heart  was  with  those 
dear  friends  at  Kelso  and  Ruthwell  who  compassed 
the  altar  of  the  Lord,  and  in  praying  for  them  my 
soul  caught  a  portion  of  the  love  of  Jesus.  It  is 
true  that  blessings  sought  for  others  are  returned  to 
ourselves,  and  there  are  few  pleasures  like  that  of 
connnunion  of  spirit  with  absent  I'riends,  at  the  throne 
of  mercy." 

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


MARY  LUNDFE  DUNCAN.  107 

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

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

"■  August  1\. — To-morrow,  D.  V.  we  shall  set  out 
on  our  long  anticipated  tour.  Will  it  bring  all  the  en- 
joyment it  has  promised  ?  I  wish  to  go  in  the  fear 
of  God,  remembering  him  in  whatever  compai\y  1  am, 
and  seeking  to  keep  those  I  love  best  near  Him 
Oh  may  He  help  me  so  to  do !  We  shall  praise  Him 
in  His  beautiful  temple  :  and  glow  with  love  to  Him 
amid  the  wildness  and  magnificence  of  nature.  What 
double  joy  it  gives  to  bo  his  children !  What 
serenity  to  go  out  leaning  on  Him !  I  heard  Mr. 
Candlish,  on  the  man  who  wished  to  save  his  five 
brethren  from  hell. — His  remarks  on  friends  loving 
as  immortal  beings,  who  should  only  regard  each 
other  in  another  world  according  to  their  mutual  in- 
uence  in  preparing  for  it,  were  beautiful,  and  fired 
my  desires,  as  well  as  those  of  W.  W.  D.,  who  was 
in  another  part  of  the  church,  to  walk  as  a  child  of 
light,  and  to  be  helpful  to  my  dear  ones  in  the  bey 


■\ 


108  MEMOIR   OF 

things  ;  for  we  shall  blend  our  voices  in  the  angelic 
song ;  and  it  is  sweet  to  cherish  the  tenderest  bonds 
only  in  the  Lord." 

Diary. — "  September  19. — The  happy  month  is 
ended  this  day,  by  the  departure  of  the  last  of  the 
party.  Seldom  have  expectations  of  enjoyment  been 
80  well  realized,  as  in  this  case.  A  portion  of  beau- 
tiful weather,  magnificent  scenery,  and  kind  friends. 
have  made  this  a  season  of  much  pleasure, — not  un- 
mixed, it  is  true,  but  what  is  in  this  world  ?  The 
scientific  meeting,  and  the  triumphal  coming  of  Earl 
Grey,  have  occupied  us  since  our  return.  We  had 
one  quiet  walk  to  the  Botanic  Gardens,  where  we 
read  part  of  a  sermon  on  prayer.  May  the  God  of 
mercy  send  his  Spirit  to  him  who  composed  and 
preached  that  sermon,  that  many  souls  may  be  the 
iruit  of  his  labour !  May  his  inward  life  be  renewed 
day  by  day  !  This  shall  be  my  prayer  :  and  oh  !  may 
my  influence  be  of  a  holy  kind.  May  I  help  him  to 
resist  evil,  and  cherish  love  to  God,  and  purity  of 
conscience.  »  *  *  This  morning  we 
joined  in  prayer,  and  felt  it  sweet  to  commit  each 
other  to  Him  who  never  slumbers  ;  and  in  His  light 
may  we  walk  till  we  meet  again  I  Last  night,  when 
Dr.  D.,  &c.,  were  about  to  set  out  by  the  night  mail, 
we  all  knelt  together  and  prayed  for  this  dear  but 
separated  family.  There  is  a  joy  in  prayer.  Oh 
that  I  had  known  more  of  it  in  this  united  form  !  To- 
morrow, 1  trust  W.  W.  will  be  strengthened  in  body 
and  spirit,  for  the  performance  of  duty  ;  and  may  a 
desire  of  converting  sinners  be  his  first  and  rulin.' 
motive.  '  The  blessing  of  Him  who  dweit  in  the 
bush'  go  with  him." 

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

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

and  feel  more  alive  and  steadfast  after  sucn  hours, 
The  reading  of  Charles'  of  Bala's  life,  has  shown  me 
what  God  can  do  in  sanctifying  his  people,  and  mak- 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  109 

fng  them  meet  for  his  own  inheritance,  and  I  hoped 
it  was  the  beginning  of  better  things  for  me,  and  thai 
to  Uve  to  Ilim,  and  have  his  will  done  in  me  would 
be,  as  I  have  often  resolved  and  broken,  hereafter 
much  more  my  object.  But  tliough  I  had  some  time 
of  prayer  that  refreshed  me,  pride  crept  in."  Her  ex- 
perience of  this  chronic  disease,  which  has  been  the 
affliction  of  the  children  of  Adam  ever  since  he  was 
cast  out  of  Eden,  and  which  has  forced  thousands  to 
enter  into  the  sympathies  of  Paul's  complaint,  "  when 
I  would  do  good,  evil  is  present  with  me,"  was,  at 
this  time  of  good  and  hopeful  resolution,  specially 
verified  ;  and  the  diary  traces  the  causes  of  wounding 
her  conscience,  with  simplicity,  and  sincere  self-ex- 
amination. A  single  extract  is  given  to  show  the  watch 
she  kept  over  her  state  of  mind,  and  the  exact  ac- 
count to  which  she  called  herself  for  every  emoticn 
on  which  conscience  set  its  stigma.  "  On  Thursday 
morning,  rose  late,  and  had  little  time  to  pray.  On 
the  way  to  Stockbridge  school,  read  a  French  play, 
which  so  occupied  me  that  I  had  not  my  usual  interest 
in  teaching  the  children.  On  Friday  was  impatient 
to  get  ofl'  to  the  Canongate  school,  and  was  ruthei 
cross  in  hearing  my  sister's  history  lesson.     In  the 

evening   went    to    Mr. 's.     He    told    me    they 

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

10 


110  MEMOIR    OF 

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

Extracts  of  letters  to  Mr.  Duncan  in  1834. 

"  Every  one  says  I  do  not  allow  myself  enough  of 
sleep ;  but  when  my  days  are  much  broken  up,  the 
still  evening  hour  is  very  valuable ;  and  if  1  am 
awaked  by  a  bright  sunbeam  at  early  morn,  how  can 
I  but  spring  to  meet  it,  and  snatch  some  calm  and  re- 
freshing thought  and  reading  before  the  bustle  begins  1 
Are  not  these  reasons  valid  ?  Sometimes  1  fall 
asleep  lor  ten  minutes  (not  more)  during  the  day, 
and  feel  strengthened.  Oh  !  how  little  can  I  do  at 
most !  How  ill  could  I  afford  to  pass  as  many  hours 
in  the  land  of  forgetfulness  as  some  people  do  !  I 
long  to  spend  my  short  fast  fleeting  life,  as  an  intelli- 
gent immortal  being  ought,  'redeeming  the  time,'  as 
one  who  knows  that  soon  the  record  of  her  deeds  will 
be  filled  up."         «**•*• 

"  Nov.  19. — I  know  not  if  I  ever  expressed  to  you 
•what  1  have  often  felt,  that  if  I  was  losing  sight  of 
my  mercies,  or  forgetting  that  I  do  not  deserve  the 
smallest  of  those  thousand  blessings  that  have  been 
given  me,  I  never  felt  any  thing  more  salutary  than  a 
visit  to  some  lowly  cottage,  where  another  child  of 
Adam,  and  perhaps  a  far  better  child  of  God,  was 
suffering  from  privation  or  pain.  Such  a  sight  re- 
calls me  to  myself,  and  sends  me  away  humble  and 
grateful.  *  *  *  1  must  usk  you  to  thank  our  pre- 
server with  me,  for  an  escape  from  danger  I  was  un- 
consciously incurring  some  weeks  ago.  You  remem- 
ber the  sick  woman  1  told  you  of.  The  doctors  had 
not  ascertained  the  nature  of  her  disease,  and  the  last 
4ime  1  went,  lior  daugliter  had  been  taken  ill.      U  has 


MARY    LUNOIE    DUNCAN.  Ill 

been  too  surely  proved  tliiit  it  was  typhus  fever ;  and 
thouoli  they  are  recoverin<j,  tlie  eldest  son,  on  wliom 
their  support  in  some  measure  depended,  has  been 
cut  ofl'  in  three  days  ilhiess.  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  (lock,  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  un- 
folded to  us.  They  are  solemn  and  affecting  docu- 
ments, and  we  long  lingered  over  the  writing,  dim- 
med by  unsparing  time.  The  writing  of  the  unfortu- 
nate and  misguided  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  attracted 
our  attention.  Row  could  a  lively,  elegant  young 
creature,  reared  in  France,  govern  the  Caledonians 
of  the  sixteenth  century  ?  We  saw  a  flag  from  Flod- 
den,  "  Veritas  viiicil"  and  views  of  EdinlJurgh  one 
hundred  and  forty  years  ago,  when  the  Nor-Loch 
flowed  over  the  site  of  the  buildings  beneath  the  North 
Bridge,  and  the  New  Town  was  not.  It  is  bewilder- 
ing to  glance  over  so  many  books  (the  collected  labors 
of  centuries),  as  are  enclosed  within  the  walls  of 
these  Libraries. — It  is  so  small  an  inroad  one  individ- 
ual 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  uuto  salvation,'  and  steadily 
advance  in  tliose  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 
surround  us,  we  shall  be  very  happy  here,  and  O  ! 
how  huppy  in  those  regions,  where  no  barrier  shall 


112  MEMOIR    OF 

oppose  our  mental  progress  !  There  is  intense  plea^ 
sure  in  the  full  exorcise  of  every  faculty.  What  will 
the  delight  be,  where  a  blaze  of  heavenly  light  dis- 
closes 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  tliink  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  hea- 
ven. It  seems  to  me,  therefore,  particularly  impor- 
tant that  we  should  watch  the  formation  and  progress 
of  our  tastes,  habits,  and  joys  ;  for  who  would  not 
desire  to  be  as  like  the  angels  that  excel  as  they  can 
be  permitted  1  Who  would  bind  himself  down  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,  ia 
humble  penitence  and  love,  to  his  benign  Reedemer, 
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  our- 
selves for  the  sins  that  made  the  Son  of  God  to  sufier 
and  die.  Redeeming  love  is  the  note  that  will  trem- 
ble most  sweetly  on  the  harps  of  eternity,  which 
even  angels,  who  have  not  required  an  atonement, 
*  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  dwelling  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,  1831. — Quietness  is  a  great  delight; 
much  more  is  accomplished,  when  you  are  not 
startled  by  the  thought  that  there  are  fifty  things 
you  ought  to  do ;  and  even  thought  flows  more 
freely,  and  aflcction  wears  a  sveete.*,  calmer  aspect, 


MARY    LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  US 

when  the  hours  glide  peacefully  on,  and  contem- 
plation is  not  driven  away  by  life's  small  hut  engros- 
sing cares.  Yet,  to  make  <iuietiiess  pleasant,  lliere 
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  ^itudy  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 
associate  must  be  kindred  spirits,  with  the  same  aims 
and  hopes,  and  some  congeniality  of  thought  and  pur- 
suit,— with  some  energy  to  keep  life  from  sluggishness, 
and  some  enthusiasm,  ready  to  kindle  at  all  that  is  no- 
ble, or  melt  at  the  sorrows  of  others, — to  stamp  the  fly- 
ing 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  '  to  re- 
move the  thorns  that  wound  the  breast  we  love,'  will 
be  the  dearest  employ  that  the  round  of  earthly  things 
can  furnish  !  How  much  we  can  give  a  character  to 
our  days,  by  cherishing  the  best  dispositions,  and 
struggling  with  those  that  haunt  us  like  spirits  of 
darkness,  by  saying  at  once,  and  from  the  heart,  I  am 
thine,  0  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." 
"  Edinhiirgh,  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  ..anprovement  commensu- 
rate with  their  flight  ?  Do  new  volumes  of  nature's 
wonderiul  Imok  unfold  their  stores  to  us?  Do  more 
just  and  philosophical  ideas  supersede  those  which 
might  have  been  crudely  and  rashly  formed  ?  Does 
deeper  knowledge  of  Scripture  grow  upon  us,  show- 
10* 


114  MEMOIR    OF 

ing  the  rches  of  divine  wisdom,  ac!  it  was  not  felt 
before,  and  causing  our  hoarts,  in  understanding  the 
love  of  God,  to  expand  witli  charity  to  all  niankiud  ? 
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  mark- 
ing-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  occupations,  necessarily  rather  desul- 
tory, have  had  this  winter.  It  is  sad  to  feel  ener- 
gies 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 
^^uiescence,  only  half  alive  to  its  existence,  and  con- 
tent 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 
10  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  nee<lful  were  secure.  True  ;  but  the 
mental  powers,  if  thrown  ri'.  upon  themselves,  sustain 
severe  injury,  and  may  fall  into  a  deep  sleep,  which 
of'ten  terminates  only  with  life  ;  while  this  healthful 
and  vigorous  exercise  doubles  their  capabilities,  and 
adds  a  second  life,  as  it  were,  to  the  haj)py  man  who 
has  seized  them  betimes,  as  his  portion.  And  the 
'one  thing  needful'  is  fraught  with  themes  for 
thought,  that  ennol)le  and  refine  more  than  earth's 
fairest  scenes.  *  *  But  I  might  thus  run 
on  all  day.  The  sum  of  the  matter  is  this,  that  1 
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  mav 


MARY   LUNDTE    DUNCAN.  1  1 5 

be  fixed  on  the  central  point  of  bliss.  And  you, 
dear  friend, — are  your  hours  conscientiously  spent  in 
improvement  ?  I  often  muse  on  those  circumstances 
which  have  thrown  one  so  fond  of  action  into  a  state 
of  seclusion  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  bright  spot  to  look  back  to.  I 
commit  you  again  and  again  to  God.  I  am  comforted 
by  the  sweet  expressions  of  submission  that  some- 
times fall  from  your  pen.  Still  I  fear  that  your  cha- 
racter 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 
service :  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  everj'  day  show  more  of  the  evils 
of  our  alienated  hearts  !  I  tremble  to  speak  of  my 
own  state,  for  hard  experience  has  proved  me  irreso- 
lute and  fluctuating  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  com- 
mandments, and  reverence  his  presence,  not  only  in 
hours  of  retirement,  but  whatever  I  do.  The  attempt 
shows  me  my  extreme  feebleness  ;  and  when  I  re- 
member 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  out- 
stript  me  since !    He  has  given  me  mercies  and  chas- 


116  MEMOUl   OF 

tisements,  like  a  tender  parent ;  yet  I  am  only  on  the 
very  threshold  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  influence  compa- 
nions have  on  the  state  of  the  mind.  With  the  giddy 
or  hardened,  the  sweet  savour  of  spirituality  is  weak- 
ened ;  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  ex- 
perienced 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  re- 
gret. I  am  nothing  but  weakness,  but  ray  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  !  W.,  I 
wish  you  knew  my  friend  :  her  consistency  and  de- 
votion 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  have  had  five  mi- 
nutes' talk  on  any  other  subject,  and  she  is  an  intel- 
lectual Christian  ;  so  you  may  fancy  our  style  of  con- 
verse.        *         *         Jcany  has  come  at  last !    (The 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  117 

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. 

"  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  pe- 
titions." 


118  MEMOIB.    OF 


CHAPTER    VI. 


CORRESPONDENCE. 

The  event  ^^  hich  most  delighted  her  mind  in  the 
opening  of  the  year  1835,  was  a  letter  from  a  Lon- 
don 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-subduing  grace  in  her  heart,  had  re- 
vived the  remembrance  of  Mary  Lundie,  and  she 
wrote  to  her  for  the  first  time.  The  tearful  but 
beaming  joy  with  which  the  glad  news  was  re- 
ceived, 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  les- 
sons 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  ftved  you  be- 
fore, your  letter  draws  my  heart  toward  you  much 
more,  for  it  contains  expressions  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 


MARY    LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  1  19 

wlien  earthly  things  fade  away.  May  the  God  of  all 
power  keep  you  stedfast,  and  teach  you  daily  more 
of  himself!  The  hidden  life  of  coinersc  witli  him 
is  full  of  peace — but  oh  !  how  easily,  when  we  neg- 
lect 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  anything  relating  to  religion,  I  sometimes 
thought  the  smile  was  assumed,  more  to  hide  what 
you  telt,  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  1  can  understand  the  new  happiness  the 
choice  has  given  you, — you  have  my  earnest  prayers 
that  the  blessing  of  God  may  follow  you  continually. 
"  1  am  reading  a  book  by  our  old  iViend  Shuron 
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  arti- 
chokes, and  dandelions  as  lettuce,  not  to  mention  the 
fine  bread  which  can  be  made  from  either  sawdust  or 
bones.  But  1  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  reading,  and  I  have  a  great  regard 
lor  the  worthy  old  gentleman  who  wrote  it.  Believe 
ine  (in  the  hope  tli,it  you  will  write  to  me)  very 
allectionately  yours." 

Letter  to  her  correspundent  near  London. 
"  Edinhurgh,  Jan.,    16,    IS.};;.—      *  *      1  have 

had  inucii  coinlon  ni   ihinknig  ot  you  since  recening 


120  MEMOIR    OF 

your  last  kind  letter,  it  is  so  fully  expressive  of  the 
peace  which  oar  blessed  Lord  makes  his  children  to 
know  in  the  day  of  trial,  when  more  than  at  any  other 
time,  he  makes  himscU'  known  in  the  fuUicss  of  His 
covenant  love.     Is  that  support  still  continued,  my 
beloved  friend,  and  can  you  still  say  all  is   well  1 
Has  God  made  your  soul  to  grow  in  this  afflictive 
season,  and  have  you  felt   the    sweetness  of   com- 
muning with  liim,  and  so    renewing    your    strength 
when  it  was  ready  to  fail  1     Those  times  of  prayer, 
though  alas  !  too  seldom  experienced  by  me,  wherein 
we  can  pour  out  our  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  of  what  our 
feelings  will  be,  when  all  the  storms  and  all  the  dead- 
ening calms  of  life  are  past,  and   we  have  entered 
into  the  rest  that  rcmaineth.    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  1  only  remember  myself, 
my  deadness  of  heart,  and  my  frequent  forgetfulness 
of  my  best   friend.     But   1    look  on  my  risen   Re- 
deemer, and  hope  revives :    I   will  cling  to  him  as 
long  as  I  live,  the  Lord  enabling  me.     There  are  mo- 
ments when  1  long  for  a  friend  to  whom  1   could  un- 
fold all  my  heart,  and  from  whose  faithful  counsel  and 
Christian  love  I  might  derive  much  benefit  and  com- 
fort.    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  Chris- 
tian friends,  but  it  requires   an  attraction  ol  heart, 


MARY  LUNDIE  DDNCAN.  121 

which  may  be  better  felt  than  described,  to  fill  ex- 
actly 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  will 
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  world,  and  its  atmosphere  is 
not  that  1  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  ?  We  have 
no  time  to  trifle,  and  the  years  which  so  swiftly  min- 
gle with  the  waters  of  eternity,  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  severe  suffering. 
She  asked  him  if  he  feared  to  die  1  He  looked  ear- 
nestly 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  ti:;e  glory  of  his  love  as  a  '  teacher 
of  babes.'  Let  us  receive  His  teaching  in  the  same 
spirit,  and  try,  as  the  lowly  Tersteegen  did,  to  forget 
self  ia  his  presence.  Have  you  seen  his  life  1  It  is 
11 


122  MEMOIR   OP 

full  of  spirituality,  and  well  repays  a  careful  reading 
Some  passages  are  rather  mystical,  but  I  do  not  re- 
member ever  to  have  met  with  so  beautiful  an  exam- 
ple of  poverty  of  spirit.  He  was  made  the  instru- 
ment of  bringing  many  to  the  cross,  though  his  con- 
stant desire  was  to  be  permitted  to  be  alone  with 
God.  Public  speaking  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  sympathizing  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  jjin  me  in  reading  each  evening,  the  lit- 
tle book  I  send.  Many  passages  are  very  sweet,  and 
afford  matter  for  improving  thought.  We  both  love 
the  Psalms,  and  these  reflections  will  not  make  us 
love  them  less." 

Diary. — "■Feb.  1. — The  second  month  of  1835 
commences  with  a  Sabbath.  This  day  should  be 
helpful  to  me,  in  serving  God  through  the  whole 
month.  It  may  originate  resolutions  to  live  to  God, 
and  He  may  so  draw  near  me,  in  answer  to  prayer, 
that  I  may  know  the  joy  of  his  presence.  In  reflect- 
ing on  the  circumstance  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  object,  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  ;  uUt 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  123 

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, 
remembering  to  whom  I  speak;  and  more  knowledge 
of  my  sins  ;  and  more  particular  confession,  and  cast- 
ing away  of  each ;  and  a  clearer  sense  of  the  won- 
derful 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  exceeding  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  1  may  live  prepared  to  meet  it. 
When  Jesus  speaks  peace  it  is  not  dreadful.  I  want 
such  a  clear  view  of  my  acceptance  in  him,  as  will 
tak.i  away  th^.  monster's  sting.  That  morning  I  read 
Hiiyburton's  dying  experience.  His  end  was  peace." 

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  re- 
ferred to  one  who  was  the  object  of  your  anxious,  yel 
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  learn- 
ing 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  resigned  hope,  and  your 
anxiety  that  the  Lord  might  be  with  your  poor  suf- 
ferer during  his  illness.*     How  completely  all   such 

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


124  MEMOIR   OF 

feelings  are  now  swallowed  up,  and  exchanged  1*. 
those  of  gratitude  and  triumph  for  him  as  one  of  the 
redeemed  of  the  eirth.  You  can  now  no  longer  min- 
ister to  him — you  can  now  no  longer  pray  for  him: 
all  that  is  past.  But  your  faith  has  been  strengthened 
by  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  put- 
ting 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  tri- 
bulation, 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-suffi- 
cient portion,  and  makes  the  darkest  hour  the  most 
resemble  heaven,  by  hiding  creature-comforts  from 
our  view,  and  far  more  than  supplying  their  place  by 
His  own  presence.  We,  my  dear  friend,  have  had 
many  proofs  of  his  unchanging  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  breathings  to- 
wards God  in  the  time  of  devotion.  But  how  great 
is  the  perversion  of  spirit  which  renders  affliction  a 
necessary  instrument  to  show  us  this  in  its  force. 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  125 

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  ear- 
nest devotion.  What  might  we  become  if  we  always 
hearkened  to  the  voice  of  the  Spirit  within  us  1 

"  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  1 
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- 
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  desire  to  be  spent  for  his  glory. 
How  good  is  he,  in  placing  us  where  we  have  oppor- 
tunities to  help  one  of  the  least  of  these  his  children  ! 
*  *  I  rejoice  that  your  dear  sister  has  jomed 
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  bro- 
thers and  sisters  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.  #  *  j  tremble  to 
think  of  my  influence  over  the  dear  friend  I  men- 
tioned, but  strength  may  be  made  perfect  in  utter 
weakness.  It  is  my  desire  to  look  beyond  all  passing 
11* 


126  MEMOIR   OF 

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 
Sabbath  services,  attendance  on  any  public  meeting, 
her  schools,  all  that  interested  her,  or  moved  her  feel- 
ings, 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  surpassed  the  power  of  nature.  She 
pursued  her  occupations  under  acute  pain,  which  was 
only  betrayed  by  flushed  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  am  trying  to  learn  in  patience  to  pos- 
sess my  soul.  A  dull  submission,  because  I  cannot 
help  it,  is  most  comfortless.  I  would  seek  a  willing 
resignation  to  th'^  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  discip- 
line 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  occa- 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  127 

sionally  found,  so  deceitful  is  my  heart  in  its  best  mo- 
ments, that  at  prayer  my  thoughts  have  been  pre- 
vented 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.  He  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  forsake  us,  even  when  we  are  untrue  to  our- 
selves ?  Let  ns  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  soleli/  on  the  divine  disposal,  and  are  you 
searching  for  all  the  motives  that  may  influence  you  1 
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  influence  we 
mutually  possess,  I  tremble  for  your  responsibility  and 
for  mine.  Let  it  be  used  in  drawing  each  oth<;r  to 
the  source  of  all  our  blessings. 

"  There  is  in  the  Canongate  an  old  Irish  woman, 
who  is  much  an  object  of  interest  to  me.  She  Icist  a 
daughter,  whom  she  much  loved,  and  during  the 
months  that  have  since  elapsed,  she  has  had  many 
thoughts  of  her  spiritual  condition,  and  desiri;s  to 
serve  the  God  she  has  so  long  neglected.     She  still 


1*8  MBMOIU   OF 

looks  too  much  to  her  own  cfTorts,  and  tJiough  they 
all  prove  vain,  she  still  seems  to  think  she  can  do 
something  for  herself.  '  Oh !  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  sinne  rs,  and  that  no  work  of  hers,  how- 
ever free  from  wandering,  is  fit  to  present  to  God  with- 
out being  washed  in  his  blood.  She  has  not  the 
peace  and  hope  that  come  from  a  sense  of  this  cleans- 
ing 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  practice  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  local- 
ities, as  the  wynds  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  on» 
chamber  cleanly  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  pesti- 
lence 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  final  peace.  Many 
such   instructive    scenes    were    witnessed  by  Mary 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  129 

Ijundie,  and,  it  is  believed  that  in  them  she  both  com- 
municated 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  depart- 
ing snow-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  green  sward,  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  Haldaue'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  discontent  with  the 
government  of  his  country,  and  even  implied  censure 
against  the  plans  of  Providence,  which  his  '  pale  al- 
pine 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,  titled  '  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. 


130  MEMOIR    OF 

Rose  not  more  biiglit,  in  sunbeams  gay 
Than  our  young  pleasure  smiled. 

When  round  some  ivy-mantled  tower, 

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

That  fringed  its  arches  gray. 

With  that  blue  wreath  young  hearts  were  twined, 

— Nor  deem  the  fetter's  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  council  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  na- 
ture, and  call  up  strange  emotions  of  the  past.  When 
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  dccypher  the  Hebrew  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."     *     * 


MARY  LUNDIK  DUNCAN.  131 

"  Uncle  Henry*  tells  me  the  dear  old  cottage  must 
soon  come  down — beautiful  place !  If  you,  dear 
mamma,  have  any  inhahitioeness,  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  in- 
tersi  and  pleasure  to  its  erection,  has  passed  away  ?" 

'^  Riithwdl,  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  be- 
loved father,  who  has  now  for  three  years,  rejoiced 
with  joy  unspeakable  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  eveningof  the  dark  and  afflict- 
ing day,  when  all  that  was  left  of  him  was  removed 
from  us — but  he  is  in  heaveii.'' 

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

"  A     HYMN. 

••  O  riiou  wlio  heur'st  the  contrite  sinner's  monming, 
Aiirl  nieel'st  tlie  trembling  .soni  lo  Thee  returninjr, 
How  down  thine  eur,  and  frraut  me  answers  speedy, 
For  i  am  needy. 

TUou  know'st  the  sacred  vows  so  often  broken, 
Thou  hear'sl  Ihe  words  forgot  as  sotni  its  sicken, 
'I'hon  seesl  earths  chitiiis,  of  falul  hislre.  twining 
Thifi  heart  decNiiiiig. 

From  the  fair  pnlhs  of  peace  loo  often  straying, 
I  w.inder  fur,  my  Sitvionr"s  love  Ijeiraying  ; 
'i'ih,  wounded  by  tlie  ihorus  that  mercy  scatters, 
I  seek  hle's  wiiters. 

My  gracious  Shepherd,  in  thy  pa.sttire  \vmI  me  ; 
VV'JUi  hviiig  streams,  with  heavenly  inamia  feed  me  ; 

"   The  pet  name  of   Dr.  Duncan. 


132  UEMOIR   OF 

With  thine  own  voice  of  love,  oh  I  call  me,  guide  nie ; 
From  evil  hide  me. 

Be  Thou  my  first,  my  best,  my  chosen  treasure  ; 
Delight  my  soul  with  love  that  knows  no  measure ; 
Filled  with  Thyself,  can  cartli's  delusions  charm  mo  T 
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  weepings 
In  Jesus  sleeping. 

Then,  clad  in  robes  made  wliite  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. 

"  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  the  chai^  ; 

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. 

If  in  Time, — where  clouds  descending, 
Quick  may  hide  it  from  thy  sight, 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  133 

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  nu- 
merous body  of  parishioners,  including  the  leading 
people,  he  thought  of  nothing,  but  with  a  thankful 
heart  going  through  the  necessary  preparation  for  en- 
tering 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  ele- 
ment on  which  he  treads,  does  he  cling  to  the  ex- 
tended and  sustaining  arm,  and  cry  out  with  sinking 
12 


l34  MEMOIR   OF 

drowning  Peter,  "  Lord,  save  me,  I  perish."  The 
afflictions  appointed  for  each,  are  adapted  with  minuta 
and  tender  wisdom  to  the  character  of  the  afflicted. 
But,  on  first  being  brought  into  the  wilderness,  thd 
soul  cannot  see  the  design,  or  anticipate  the  comfort, 
which  shall  afterwards  bo  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. 

"  March  28. — How  varied  and  important  have  been 
the  events  of  this  week !  It  is  one  never  to  be  for- 
gotten. The  hopes  of  W.  W.  have  been  surpassed 
in  his  appointment  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.  W.  has  been 
full  of  happiness,  and  says  he  thinks  he  cannot  again 
be  faithless.  Alas  !  it  may  require  hard  lessons  to 
teach  that.  Since  the  tidings  came  1  have  been  op- 
pressed by  head-ache.  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  ill- 
ness, she  writes  : — 

"  April  3. — The  Lord  was  merciful  and  raised  me 
up  again,  and  oh  '  1  wish  to  spend  my  lime  for  him. 
We  have  not  yet  made  a  sullicienlly  serious  business 
01    v-    — o»«   oiinnyre   that,   within   a   week,  has  been 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  135 

wrought  in  our  prospects  ;  my  heart  is  too  frivolously 
dissipated,  but  the  Lord  will  teach  ine  !  I  have  been 
pretty  industrious,  but  not  profitably  so.  My  time  is 
not  my  own.     May  I  use  it  while  it  flics  !" 

"  April\6. — [After  reviewing  the  throe  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  1  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  togcaher." 


136  KEHOIR   OF 


CHAPTER    VII. 

VENERABLE      CHRISTIAN VISITS      TO      THE       POOR 

REV.    JOHN    BROWN    PATTERSON. 

From  Dumfries-shire  she  went  to  her  UEcle's  resi- 
dence in  Northumberland,  and  there  wrote  to  her  cho- 
sen friend  near  London  on  the  same  interesting  sub- 
ject in  this  manner : 

"  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  places  bright ;  her  end  was  peace. 
Does  not  everything  confirm  these  words,  '  all  things 
are  yours  ?'  Even  death,  so  dreadful  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.  These  words  of  hers,  '  it  is  the 
happiest  day  of  my  life,'  have  dwelt  upon  my  mind. 
She  was  willing  to  bid  adieu  to  time  and  all  its  pur- 
suits, and  to  go,  in  the  strength  of  her  Saviour,  to  the 
unseen  world.  And  thus  it  is  that  Jesus  shows  him- 
self to  be  'all  in  all.'  Oh!  why  do  we  ever  seek  de- 
light from  meaner  sources  ?  There  is  in  Him  a  love- 
liness which  forms  the  surest  refuge  of  the  afflicted. 
It  is  more  known  as  other  joys  are  withdrawn.  So 
Cowper  felt,  when  he  said, 

"  Eartlily  joys  no  more  attracting, 

Half  the  CliriHtian's  conflicts  cease  ; 
Earthly  h>rhts  no  more  distracting, 

Thou  niayest  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.  137 

to  die,  should  God  recall  my  spirit  soon.  Alas !  my 
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  de- 
sire to  stay.  I  know  that  strength  is  sufllcient  for  the 
day,  but  I  know  also  that  my  deceitful  heart  has  laid 
up  too  much  treasure  on  earth — has  suffered  itself 
to  be  possessed  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  dif- 
ficulty 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  loould  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  re- 
sponsibilities connected  with  it  are  great  and  solemn. 
There  is  only  one  source  to  which  to  look  for  re- 
quisite 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 !  who  can 
tell  how  soon  He  may  see  it  needful  to  change  his  deal- 
ings !  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  unavail- 
ing without  his  blessing. 

"  I  am  now  visiting  my  kind  uncle  and  aunt  near 
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 


138  MEMOIR    OF 

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  ol)ject,  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  forgetfulncss  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  youi: 
gentle  reproach  for  saying  so  little  of  wliat  relates  to 
me.  You  now  see  a  good  deal  of  my  foolish  and 
weak  heart,  but  I  hope  it  will  make  you  pray  that  1 
may  constantly  be  taught  of  God.     Are  you  well  riotv, 

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  Hock 
alone  can  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  circum- 
stances and  parties,  but  it  is  very  pleasant  and  salu- 
tary. We  should  use  every  means  to  arouse  our 
Bouls  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  1  cannot  repre- 
sent it  to  you  as  i   is.     Ah,  how  gently  I  deal  with 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  139 

my  own  sins  !  I  desire  to  feel  them  more,  that  the 
blood  of  Jesus  may  be  increasingly  precious." 

A  soul,  so  timorous  lest  prosperity  should  deaden 
its  exercises,  and  accepting  a  promised  blessing  with 
so  solemn  a  consciousness  of  unworthincss,  was  not 
ill  prepared  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  nature  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 
(lowed  peacefully  in  the  exercise  of  the  most  con- 
fiding affection. 

"  Dilston  House,  May  5. — When  I  look  at  the 
bright  sunshine  which,  at  this  moment,  gilds  the 
winding  glen  that  stretches  itself  beneath  the  win- 
dows, 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  '  Heaven's  sunshine  on  their 
joyful  way  ;'  and  a  sweet  hope  springs  up,  that  what- 
ever 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  Righ- 
teousness, which,  beaming  over  our  horizon,  attracts 
continually  our  admiring  eyes.  The  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 !" 

"  May  15. — A  lady  showed  me  her  very  complete 
Hortus  Siccus,  which  it  has  been  the  labour  and 
amusement  of  years  to  collect  and  arrange.  This 
country  affords  every  facility  for  the  pursuit  of  bo- 


14C  MEMOIR   OF 

t;iny.  There;  are  wood  flowers,  water  plants,  and 
rock  vegetation  in  endless  variety  ;  and  now  the  pur- 
ple gems  of  the  urchis  arc  rising  with  the  curious 
arum.  The  old  lady  went  over  her  dried  flowers,  the 
pride  of  by-gone  springs,  with  an  artist's  enthusiasm^ 
iiid  dwelt  on  long  walks,  which  had  been  made  short 
and  pleasant  by  the  discovery  of  the  object  of  her 
search,  some  little  weed  perhaps  with  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  is  it  ever.  Some  gather  flowers,  others  dig  in  the 
mine  of  science  ;  what  we  have  set  our  hearts  on  we 
rejoice  to  find.  I  hope  tlut-t,  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.  Yes- 
terday I  rode  with  my  dear  uncle  to  a  Roman  camp 
on  the  military  road,  and  to  Aydon  Castle,  a  fine  old 
border  fort,  now  a  picturesque  ruin.  It  stands  on  the 
verge  of  a  deep  woody  precij)ice,  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  tau- 
tological 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  not.  The  blue  hyacinth  that  rises 
among  the  grass,  the  violet  and  geranium  that  blow  iu 
the  wilds,  renew  it,  and  transport  mc  to  days  I  love 
to  think  of,  and  to  a  kindling  sniiU',  of  which  I  shall 
weary — never  !  These  fair  children  of  nature — these 
woods  with  their  budding  hawthorn  and  venerable 
ivy — I  am  about  to  bid  them  adieu.  I  love  to  com- 
mune silently  among  such  objects,  with  nature,  and 
with  her  Author,  and  shall  leave  them  with  regret; 
but  with  a  very  diflerent  sentiment  from  that  which 


MARY   LUNDfE   DUNCAN.  Ml 

oppressed  me  in  leaving  the  last  place  of  my  so- 
journ." 

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  bom  in  April's  light. 

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

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  dispelled  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  noon-tide  rays. 

Or  scented  evening  air. 

And  if  again,  in  other  years, 

I  tread  the  spot  that  nursed  your  bloom. 
And  see  new  flowers  in  dewy  tears. 
That  flourish  ui  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  Dil" 
eton,   she   possessed   an   overflow  of   spiritual   joy 


142 


MEMOIR    OF 


whicli  is  discovered  in  her  diary  as  thus :-—"  I  feel 
calm  and  happy,  and  at  times  my  heart  so  overflows 
■with  wonder  and  joy  at  the  tliought  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  Wi  s  escorted  from  Dilston  to  New- 
castle 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  independcnit  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  lew  attain  ;  and  she  holds  it  by  fre- 
quent prayer,  and  by  constant  waiting  upon  God. 
Friends,  who  come,  often  join  prayer :  their  inter- 
course is  what  that  of  Z ion'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 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  143 

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  rea- 
son 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  persccutest  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  hav- 
ing 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  thiidc  I  have 
learned  more  of  the  use  of  prayer  as  a  guide,  and  as 
a  means  of  quieting  the  soul  when  any  thing  has  dis- 
turbed it.  It  is  the  constant  resource  of  my  kind 
friend,  and  the  bond  by  which  her  union  with  those 
she  loves  is  cemented."  After  alluding  to  some  anti- 
cipated 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  harmless.  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  prepara- 

tion 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  rcr.tinually.     J. 


144  MEMOIR   OF 

have  felt  that  I  have  been  far  (Oh,  how  far!)  too 
lax,  and  that  one  day  in  his  courts  is  better  than 
a  thousand.  May  the  mantle  of  saints  departed  de- 
Bcend  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  to  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  connexion,  because  she  disapproved  the  reli- 
gious sentiments  of  the  parties,  Mary  thus  mildly  in- 
vestigates, and  draws  lessons  of  instruction  for  her- 
self. 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  Providence,  in  meek  Chris- 
tian charity  and  consistency,  that  they  may  be  won 
from  their  errors.  But  the  party  alluded  to  cafls 
this  spurious  charity.  One  would  not  recomraead 
intercourse  that  could  only  be  productive  of  unplea- 
sant feelings  on  all  sides,  but  the  question  now  afljat 
with  me  is,  whether  it  be  the  right  thing  to  be  in  ihe 
state  which  would  make  intercourse  so  painful  or 
whether  it  be  the  right  thing  to  tell  one's  senlim>;nts 
mildly,  and  with  much  allowance  for  early  training 
and  habits  of  thought.  I  may,  however  that  be  set- 
tled, gain  from  these  things  a  new  view  of  the  CI  ris- 
tian's  high  duty,  to  maintain  his  Saviour's  cause,  and 
be  always  on  the  watch  tower.  I  have  at  times  lost 
ray  own  spirituality,  and  done  no  good  to  others  by, 
letting  myself  be  led  into  their  trains  of  thought,  in- 
stead of  seeking  to  lead  them  to  better  things.  I  have 
even  smiled  acquiescence,  or  passed  in  silence,  sen- 
timents 1  disapproved, — but  then  my  enemy  was  love, 
of  self,  so  easily  does  charity  degenerate  and  become: 
a  cloak  for  evil ! — Against  this,  I  have  by  what  I  hay© 
here  seen,  been  put  on  my  guard." 


r.ARY    LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  145 

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.  Dianj. — "  I  came  here  on 
May  23d,  and  the  kind  welcome,  the  flowery  garden, 
the  rose  of  Sharon  and  the  lily  of  the  A^alley,  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  depar- 
ture, I  feel  it  a  privilege  to  have  been  called  early  to 
that  service,  Nvhose  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  un- 
loosing 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  !" 

Shortly  after  this  date,  she  reached  the  home  to 
which  she  had  often  turned  during  the  enjoyments 
of  her  absence.  She  remarked,  on  being  asked  why 
she  was  so  desirous  to  return,  "  I  have  too  much  '  in- 
habitiveness '  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. 
November,  1839. 

"  ON    SEEING    A    PRISM    SHOWN    IN    AN    LNFANT    SCHOOL.* 

"  The  morning  is  over,  the  lessons  are  done, 

And  bright  on  the  group  shine  the  beams  of  the  sun  ; 

*  Probably  at  Newcastle. 
13 


146  MEMOIR   OF 

'  Now  show  us  flic  rainbow, '  each  little  voice  cries. 

And  luriu'ti  to  llie  hittice  arc  many  glad  eyes. 

The  prism  is  displayed  in  their  wondfrinfr  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  walla, 

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  dew-drops  are  gleaming,  and  nature  is  green ; 

And  we  think,  could  we  reach  the  fair  hills  of  its  rest. 

And  gain  what  we  wish,  wo  should  surely  be  blest. 

We  pant  in  pursuit  of  the  vanishing  prize. 

We  deem  it  our  own — as  we  near  it,  it  flies ! 

It  loses  its  brightness,  it  fades  from  our  sight,     • 

And  the  eye  that  admired  is  left  weeping  in  night. 

Ah  !  bliss  is  not  here,  it  is  bom  in  the  skies, 
Though  hope,  the  sweet  dreamer,  its  absence  denies ; 
And  ne'er  to  mankind  shall  its  fullness  be  given. 
On  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 

Immediately  on  her  return  home,  the  entry  in  her 
diary  mentions  her  attendinsr  the  celebration  of  the 
Lord's  Supper  at  Lady  Glcnorchy's  Church,  winch, 
she  says,  she  enjoyed,  "  calling  sin  to  remembrance, 
and  praying  that  all  might  be  blotted  out,  and  sho 
be  enabled  to  fix  a  steady  eye  on  Jesus," — and  then 
follows  another  entry  which  refers  to  a  public  e^xecu 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  147 

'ion,  and  exhibits  the  power  of  divine  love  in  strenth- 
^ning  the  character,  and  expanding  the  charities. 
That  a  criminal  should  be  condemned  to  sufl'cr  death 
on  the  scaflbld  is,  and,  indeed,  is  designed  to  be, 
shocking  to  the  tender  mind  ;  and  the  natural  im- 
pulse of  refinement  is  to  dismiss  so  horrible  a  thought. 
But  grace  judges  diflerently.  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  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  tilled  with  the  judgment-seat,  he  did  not 
think  of  the  scaflbld.'  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  peculiarly  feel  it.  I  hope  Jesus  re- 
ceived him  like  the  thief  on  the  cross !  I  never 
remember  to  have  prayed  so  much  for  any  one  1 
never  saw,  as  for  him.  1  longed  for  his  salvation. 
May  the  many  prayers  ofiered  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  wri- 
ting 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  ajn  sure  that  if  I 
die  1  should  go  to  heaven,  through  my  most  blessed 
Saviour ;  but  0  the  coldness  of  heart !  How  true  to 
earthly  love,  how  forgetful  of  that  which  lasts  through 
eternity  and  began  before  our  being. 


i48  MEMOIR    OF 

When  she  heard  the  solemn  and  earnest  pleading 
of  Dr.  DufT  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 
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 
multitude  of  the  Isles,  and  the  fullness  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,  everlasting  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  destructions,  and  only  a  remnant 
shall  be  left.  Now,  I  have  been  accustomed  to  hope, 
and  with  delightful  expectation,  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  ex- 
ertion 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  M-ord  against 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  149 

any  living  creature.  I  much  wish  to  have  tliat  deep 
sense  of  my  own  unworthincss,  whicli  will  make  me 
charitable  to  all.  Not  that  I  would  lose  the  power 
of  discriminating ;  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  arc  times 
when  it  is  well  to  point  out  to  a  friend  the  faults  of 
another;  but,  on  examininjj,  we  fmd  these  to  be  very 
few.  The  eilect  is  to  prejudice  the  iViend  we  love, 
and,  therefore,  are  most  likely  to  speak  to,  against 
some  individual,  and  chase  from  him  some  of  that 
balmy  dew  of  universal  love,  which  most  resembles 
the  state  of  angels  in  heaven ;  and  who  can  say 
where  such  a  course  might  end, — in  lessening  use- 
fulness, in  impairing  happiness,  in  sowing  dissen- 
sions ? 

On  the  death  of  the  Rev.  John  Brown  Patterson, 
between  which  and  her  own,  as  well  as  between  the 
expanded  benevolence  and  devotedness,  not  to  name 
tlie  poetry  of  their  characters,  there  has  appeared  an 
affecting  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  disencouraging  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,  '  0,  I  cannot 
return  to  Falkirk !'  He  preached  eighteen  times  in 
the  last  fortnight  of  his  health,  and  the  last  time  was 
13* 


150  MEMOIR    OF 

SO  cxhuusted,  that  he  rested  on  the  sofa,  in  clothes 
drenched  by  a  lieavy  rain,  during  his  walk.  home. 
Thus  were  the  seeds  of  disease  sown.  At  last,  ty- 
jduis  turned  to  br<iin-fovcr,  and  he  was  in  wiUl  deli- 
rium for  the  last  few  days.  During  that  time,  he  was 
now  praving,  now  preaching.  At  times,  the  beauty 
of  his  thoughts  was  quite  beyond  himself.  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,  sliall  weave  its  splendid  imagery  no  more  ; 
but  all — all  those  powers  shall  be  perfected  in  the 
land  of  hi.s  joyful  habitation ;  and  all  shall  be  swal- 
lowed 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  1  did  for  him,  and  his  mourning  rela- 
tions ;  and  it  enlarges  and  softens  the  heart,  to 
weep  for  those  who  weep,  and  commit  their  cause 
to  God.  May  you  and  1  know  much  of  the  bless- 
edness of  thus  sympathizing  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 
uf  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  hearts  of  his 
bereft  ones.  My  uncle  made  some  just  and  beautiful 
references  to  Mr.  Patterson  in  his  sermon."  To  ano- 
iher  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  *.heir  loss,  our  eyes  are  more  stedfastly  fixed  on 
our  heavenly  King,  the  source  of  all  the  brightness 
that  attracts  our  love." 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  151 


CHAPTER    VIII. 


DISAPPOINTMENT,    AND    THE    MANNER    IN    WHICH 
IT    WAS    BORNE     • 

Blooming  and  lovely  herself,  attractive  by  her 
chastened  cheerfulness,  and  shedding  love  and  peace 
around  her,  yet  in  the  sober  and  subdued  light  which 
we  have  seen  her  correspondence  and  her  diary  un- 
fold, 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  expect  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  receive  :  If  we  really  believe  that  our  Lord  will 
do  for  us  what  we  ask,  wc  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  sustaining  or  rejecting  the  royal  appoint- 
ment. Should  he  not  be  received,  I  believe  that  faitli 
and  submission  will  be  increased,  and  hope  will  not 
die.  Should  it  be  otherwise,  I  trust  he  may  prove  a- 
faithful  and  unwearied  labourer  in  the  vineyard  of  our 
merciful  Lord.  Oh !  my  beloved  friend,  will  you 
pray  that  it  may  be  so  ?    I  scarcely  dare  to  pray  that  it 


152  MEMOIR   OF 

may  be  as  we  desire,  for  I  have  learned,  by  constant 
experience,  thai  the  things  we  set  our  hearts  upon 
would  be  injurious.  Then,  be  our  prayer  for  those 
things  which  God  sees  best,  and  which  will  most  ef- 
fectually help  us  to  be  pure  and  without  ofl'encc  in  the 
path  of  Jesus." 

The  hopes  excited  by  the  presentation  of  Mr.  Dun- 
can to  Urr,  were  lot  destined  to  be  realized.  Those 
good  men,  who  were  deeply  sensible  of  the  evils  of 
unrestrained  patronage,  as  established  by  the  iniqui- 
tous act  of  Bolingbroke,  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne, 
had  recently  exerted  their  influence  to  enact  the  Veto 
Law,  as  it  has  been  called.  They  honestly  believed 
that  the  ecclesiastical  courts  possessed  an  inherent 
right,  lawfully,  to  enforce  a  mitigation  of  the  evil ;  and 
they  were  willing  to  reconcile  themselves  to  a  mitiga- 
tion, rather  than  seek  a  complete  remedy,  which  could 
only  be  obtained  by  an  application  to  Parliament, 
where  secular  and  party  views  seem  to  overbear  the 
temper  and  motives  which  ought  to  be  engaged  in  or- 
dering 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  ap- 
parent 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,  inexperi- 
enced in  the  recent  law,  llattered  themselves  tliat  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 
rejected  in  these  circumstances,  as  some  of  those 
who  exercised  the  Veto  against  him,  declared  openly 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  153 

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  hos- 
tility between  patron  and  people.  Stimulated  by  this 
fear  of  the  perversion  of  the  law.  some  of  the  very  in- 
dividuals who  aided  in  framing  it,  counselled  Mr. 
Duncan  to  persevere,  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  Presbyiery  which  rejected  him,  to  the 
higher  church  court,  with  a  view  to  prove  a  combina- 
tion of  the  people,  for  the  purpose  of  defeating  the 
presentation,  irrespective  of  his  merits,  and  also  to  in 
vestigate  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  edu- 
cation, and  distributors  of  honours  acquired  by  the  in- 
dustry and  talent  of  their  juvenile  townsmen, — her 
eye  beaming  with  joy  at  the  expectation  of  seeing  her 
little  brother  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  eve  at.     It 


154  MEMOIR   OF 

IS  not,  perhaps,  well  for  one  who  partook  deeply  of 
that  lime  of  trial,  to  enter  too  minutely  into  the  scene,  or 
to  describe  the  subdued  emotion,  the  Christian  and  al- 
most dignified  calmness  of  the  hour.  She  passetj 
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 
tasked  her  strength  too  heavily.  She  smiled  and 
conversed  a  little  at  first,  but  the  expression  of  love 
and  sympathy  in  tlie  surrounding  countenances  was 
too  much, — the  willing  spirit  succumbed  to  the  weak- 
ness 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  re- 
treated, 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  impa- 
tience was  heard  from  her,  and  the  peace  which  the 
world  cannot  take  away,  soon  acquired  a  renewed  and 
stronger  influence  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.  Dun- 
can, when  she  sunk  exhausted,  she  adds : — 

"  W.'s  hopes !  where  are  they  ?  The  sanguine 
predictions  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  sul- 
lenness  or  discontent.  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,  mil  be." 


MARY    LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  155 

To  Mr.  Duncan. 
"  August  7. — I  would  write  comfort  to  you,  though 
my  aching  eye  balls  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  pre- 
sent I  feel  no  temptation  of  that  kind  ;  but  do  you  not 
think  that  we  should  rather  search  our  hearts  dili- 
gently, 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  holi- 
ness of  heart  and  life,  and  then  our  God  may  give  us 
so  much  heavenly  peace,  that  we  shall  be  happier 
Jar,  than  if  all  our  loishes  had  been  fulfilled.  lie  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  di- 
rect 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 
let  it  burn  too  fiercely.  It  may  be,  my  dear  VV.,  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.  1  had 
been  indulging  in  the  delightful  hope  that  your  char- 
acter and  graces  would  be  best  improved  by  the  exer- 
cise 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  neediul  for  you, 
and  for  me.  Oh,  1  hope  it  is  not  through  my  sins, 
and  my  negligence  that  this  has  befallen  you  I  There 
is  reason  to  think  he  designs  us  both  to  glorify  hia 
name  and  to  win  souls,  or  he  would  not  take  so  nuich 
pains  with  us,  and  send  us  back  so  often  to  examme 


156  MEMOIR    OF 

the  foundation.  And  shall  we  turn  away  as  if  we 
were  injured,  repining  and  rebelling  against  the  will 
of  God  ?  No  I  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  /i/iiA 
teaches  that  all  is  trell.  •  *  *  j  pj-^y  that  the 
peoplt;  and  tlicir  pastor,  whosoever  he  shall  be,  may 
be  blessed ;  and  we  too,  doubt  it  not,  shall  not  be  for- 
gotten of  God.  lie  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  freely 
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. 

"  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  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  man- 
ner that  of  a  servant  of  the  church.  Her  plan  was 
not  to  be  a  help-meet  for  her  husband  alone,  but  to  be 
a  succourer  of  many,  who  would  depend  on  his  min- 
istrations 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  oflice 
rendered  the  disappointment  in  some  degree  of  a  char- 
acter similar  to  that  of  the  young  preacher  ;  and  made 
the  trial  of  a  more  searching  kind  to  her  own  heart. 

The  following  letter  is  written  with  the  same  desire  to 
console  and  derive  improvement  from  the  dispensation. 


MART  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  157 

To  Mr.  Duncan. 

"  Edinburgh,  August  17. 
•  •  •  "  You  can,  in  active  employ,  ir.  refer- 
ence 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  burdensome  ; — all  I 
can  do  is  to  keep  still,  and  muse  and  pray, — and  this 
I  truly  do ;  and  when  thought  would  become  re- 
bellious, or  earthly  hope  too  vivid,  prayer  checks 
their  flow,  and  rekindles  that  trust  in  the  love  of  God, 
and  that  sense  of  the  importance  uf  that  one  thing — 
preparation  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  those  rough  stones — priva- 
tion and  sorrow.  We  know  that '  the  more  we  mourn 
and  sufle.-  here,  the  sweeter  rest  will  be.'  Jesus  trod 
the  way  of  privation  before  us — privation !  oh  how 
far  beyond  what  we  can,  in  dreariest  moments,  pic- 
ture !  And,  triumphantly  as  he  passed  through  it,  he 
left  a  parting  promise  that  all  his  children  should  fol- 
low in  his  steps,  and  be  supported  by  his  hand  Let 
us  not  then  refuse,  if  called  upon,io  partake  those  suf- 
ferings :  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- 
tiated  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.  We  must  try  to  praise,  however  it  turns, 
and  so  will  God  be  glorified  in  us.  Ah !  I  would  that 
14 


158  MEMOIR    OF 

you  mijfht  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 
sulimission  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  Ilim,  as  Hall  of  Leicester  beautifully  ex- 
presses it,  '  the  home  of  the  soul.'  Rest  firmly,  con- 
fidingly, in  Him,  and  you  possess  a  support  that  •he 
war  of  elements  can  never  drive  from  you.  E.xamme 
well,  lest  even  in  your  submission,  there  be  not  con- 
cealed a  hope  that  this  very  state  of  mind  will  lead 
Him  to  make  a  smooth  way  for  you  at  Urr  yet.  I 
know  it  is  not  inconsistent  with  his  dealings  from  the 
beginning  of  time,  that  this  may  be.  But  we  must 
not  serve  Him  fur  his  gifts;  and  are  always  safer 
when  we  can  offer  ourselves  a  living  sacrifice,  with- 
out reference  to  what  may  here  befal  us.  Search 
well,  and  seek  to  give  up  every  earthly  thought,  and 
merge  your  wishes  in  a  zeal  for  ilie  promotion  of  His 
glory.  I  do  not  advise  you  because  1  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  you  are  taught  by  that  most  wise  and  Holy 
Spirit,  whose  counsels  are  sufficient  to  lead  you,  wuh- 
out  stumbling,  to  the  land  of  peace.  Yet  we  should 
•  exhort  one  another  daily  ;'  and  one,  who  has  so  often 
prayed  for  you,  inay  be  excused  for  saying  a  lew 
words,  from  a  fidness  of  heart,  beyond  what  she  has 
often  expressed.  *  *  Yesterday,  Mr.  Clark  of  Iti- 
verness  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  I  lor  such  a  slate  as 
would  let  it  be  ever  here,  even  in  my  soul,  and  w.uld 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  159 

drive  away  all  lingering  endurance  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  us  (a  youth  whom  you  may  have  seen  at 
Kelso)  on  his  way  to  London,  whence  he  will  shortly 
embark,  for  the  Navigator  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  on  the  eve 
of  commencing  his  labours  in  the  work  he  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  him  so  wide  a 
sphere  of  usefulness.*  His  time  for  you,  too,  will 
come,  and  now  he  is  but  Jilting  you  for  it :  so,  surely, 
all  is  best." 

The  final  confirmation  of  the  Urr  veto,  and  the  ap- 
peal 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 

*  The  Rev.  Archibald  Murray,  is  now  in  one  of  the  Navi- 
gator or  Samoan  Isles,  a  missionary  successful  above  many,  for 
a  wide  door  and  effectual  has  been  opened  to  him  there,  and 
many  of  the  swarthy  natives  have  turned  to  the  Lord. 


160  MEMOIR    OF 

love  the  rod ;  how  gentle  are  the  strokes  I  receive- 
how  severe  those  I  deserve.'  There  is  one  danger  1 
feel,  perhaps  you  do  also,  and  which  must  be  guarded 
against — that  of  praying  less,  and  sinking  into  a  list- 
leas  state,  and  indulging  in  a  half  acknowledged 
feeling  that  our  prayers  have  been  disregarded.  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  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 
lime  done  for  temporal  ones,  and  tliis  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  my- 
self 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  communing  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 
leaching  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  mas- 
ter will  not  give  us  one  stripe  too  much,  and,  even  in 
the  midst.  He  smiles  on  us,  and  addresses  us  in  ac- 
cents of  surpassing  love  as  His  ransomed  ones.  His 
beloved  children.     Glorious  is  the  dispensation  under 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  161 

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  influ- 
ences 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  throne,  and,  in  the  midst  of  myriads,  feel 
myself  alone  with  God.  I  want  more  of  his  daily 
presence  and  blessing,  and  1  want  to  be  strong  in 
Him  that  I  may  not  sink  under,  but  obediently  sub- 
mit to,  whatever  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,  (fee,  when  I 
tell  you,  that  ere  they  meet  my  eyes,  our  hope  with 
regard  to  that  was  over.       *  *      You  know  how 

trying  it  must  be  to  one  full  of  eflergy,  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 


162  MEMOIR   OF 

to  tprminate,  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.  1  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.  Here  I  have  time  for  thought ;  and,  when 
thought  becomes  perplexity,  and  faith  grows  weary, 
the  mercy-seat  is  near,  and  there  my  spirit  is  re- 
vived." 

In  the  Diary,  at  this  date,  there  is  an  observa- 
tion on  one  of  the  uses  of  social  worship,  which 
is  true,  but  will  be  new  to  those  who  have  not  ex- 
perienced 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  refreshing  to  a  spirit  which  has  poured  out  its 
prayer  to  God,  but  without  one  of  human  kind  to  ex- 
press a  feeling  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  By- 
ron, I  am  glad  ^  ou  are  but  skimming  the  annals  of  his 
unhappy  and  degraded  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  un 
known,  or  known  only  to  be  despised,  but  whose  rec- 
ord 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 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  163 

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,  and  his  name 
stands  like  an  upas  tree,  scathed  and  destructive,  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  gra- 
cious 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  former  days.  Oh,  my  sister, 
have  you  given  your  heart  to  our  blessed  Saviour  ? 
Have  you  asked  him  to  take  it  entirely  for  his  own, 
and  to  cleanse  it  from  all  iniquity  ?  Have  you  tried 
to  love  him  more,  whose  love  to  you  passeth  know- 
ledge ?  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  firm  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 
lias  made  our  wisest  and  holiest  men  what  they 
were. 

Tell  H.  I  am  charmed  with  some  portions  of  Cole- 
ridge'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  Let- 
ters, which  are  written  in  simple  ani  easy  Italian, 


164  ULEMOIR    OF 

and  display,  for  a  pope,  no  small  degree  of  candour 

and    liberality.     Our   friends  do   ni>t   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 
excursion  among  kind  friends  in  her  native  county. 
She  writes,  "  1  greatly  admire  the  country,  which  is 
pale  and  lovely  in  its  autumn  dress,  and  often  speak 
with  some  of  these  dear  young  people,  of  the  kind 
and  gracious  author  of  it  all.  We  make  little  employ- 
ments here,  as  idleness  is  never  happy.  But  no  wish 
has  ever  sprung  up  in  my  lieart  that  such  '  otium  cum 
dignitato '  had  been  allotted  to  me,  for  though  it  is 
very  pleasant,  I  feel  that  my  heart  is  so  apt  to  grow 
to  weeds,  it  needs  the  safeguard  of  steady  employ- 
ment ;  and  I  think  I  should  trifle  likely,  if  I  had  no- 
thing 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  fill  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  en- 
joyed some  of  Herbert's  rich  quaint  old  poems,  which 
contain  as  much  in  a  line,  as  many  o'l  late  date  do  in 
a  page.  Ever  since  our  affairs  went  wrong,  I  have 
had  a  restless  feeling,  as  if  I  should  be  better  else- 
where 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 

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

Oh  how  gracious  it  is  in  him  who  seeth  not  as  a  man 
seeth,  to  hear  prayer  whenever  it  is  offered,  and  bless 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  165 

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 
1  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  connexion  with  regular  and  daily  employment, 
above  all,  when  this  has  the  glory  of  God  for  its  im- 
mediate oliject.  So,  to  the  work  when  our  God  calls 
us,  cheerfully  we  will  go,  nor  shrink  from  any  toil  he 
lays  on  us,  assured  of  deriving  strength  from  His 
omnipotent  love." 

During  a  morning  drive  with  some  of  these  ami- 
able 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. 

Heist  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  IoW'y  wild-flower  had  a  charm  for  thee. 


166  MEMOIR   OF 

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

And  sere  and  dry,  the  leaves  of  varied  hue 
Fell  on  the  green  sward  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  tliat  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. 

Yet  in  thy  tears  is  bliss  ;  what,  though  the  voice 
That  was  thy  music,  thrill  thy  heart  no  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,  tlirough  endless  ages  stand!" 

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

Kelso,  October  23. — "My  Dearest  Mother, — 
It  is  some  hours  since  I  arrived  at  ray  beloved  former 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  167 

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  weeping 
eye  ever  turned  to  it  for  sympathy.  It  is  not  a  fool- 
ish leeliiig,  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  writ- 
ten : — "  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,  walks,  and  houses,  are  what  I  remember 
since  long  ago.  To-day,  when  tracing  some  of  my 
old  haunts,  I  could  almost  have  thought  1  had  never 
been  an  exile.  But  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  in- 
fluence through  all  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  remem- 
ber what  he  taught  them,  as  well  as  how  he  looked ! 
My  inclination  would  have  induced  me  to  wander 
alone  in  iny  retired  walks,  and  prayerfully  to  recall 


168  MEMOIR   OF 

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." 

Sabbath  night,  2blh. — "  A  Sabbath  at  Kelso  has 
flown,  and  waked  as  it  passed  many  a  silent  chord, 
and  made  it  vibrate  with  full-fraught  feeling.  It  was 
painful  to  go  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  features  glow  with  earnest  tenderness,  oc- 
cupied by  another — a  stranger  once,  but  now  the  pas- 
tor of  the  flock  he  fed.  The  tones  of  the  band,  anA 
the  old  tunes  went  to  my  heart.  In  the  afternoon, 
Mr.  T.  preached  and  baptized  Mr.  MaccuUoch's  babe, 
with  a  solemn  exhortation  to  him.  It  made  me  think 
of  the  time  when  my  own  papa  held  up  his  first-bora, 
his  little  Mary,  that  she,  too,  might  be  admitted  into 
the  pale  of  the  visible  church. 

"  We  staid  in  church  for  the  Sabbath-school,  a» 
the  school-house  is  being  painted.  I  saw  the  youth 
ful  company  assemble,  and  was  aflected  at  the  smal 
number  I  recognized,  and  the  change  which  threfc 
years  has  wrought  upon  such  as  I  did  know.  They 
took  their  places  under  Mrs.  H.'s  kind  eye,  and  I  fel* 
thankful  that  such  a  directress  is  left  them.  N.  T., 
my  old  scholar,  came  there  to  see  me,  and  gave  me  a 
cheerful  afl'ectionate  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  1  could  begin  to  teach  them.  They  were 
too  young  to  understand  the  cause,  and  I  heard  whis- 
pers 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. 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  169 

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." 


15 


170  MEMOIR   OF 


CHAPTER    IX 


SORUDWING    TURNED    INTO    THANKFULNESS. 

The  appeal  to  the  Synod  in  the  case  of  Urr,  pro- 
longed the  period  of  suspense  very  painfully,  but  the 
triumph  of  trust  in  the  wisdom  and  love  of  the  divine 
dispensation,  is  clearly  exemplified  ia  the  following 
letter : — 

To  Mr.  Duncan. 

^^  Edinburgh,  November  16. — Submission  is  the 
Christian's  duty  ;  the  attainment  of  it  his  riches,  the 
ornament  of  his  character,  the  test  of  his  sincerity. 
And  if  all  these  changes,  and  if  many  more  dis- 
appointments, 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  tlif^m  free  to  rise !  O,  shall  we  not  glorify 
Him  !  Yes, — alone  or  united,  be  it  the  joy  of  our 
lives  to  show  I'onh  His  praise,  and  to  honour  his 
commanils  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  a  new  and  unexpecled  event  soon  changed  the 
current  of  her  feelings,  and  converted  her  trustful 
resignation  into  praise.  While  the  appeal  on  the  case 
oi  Urr  was  depending,  Mr.  Duncan  had  officiated  for 


M.ARY    LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  171 

a  short  time  in  Kinross-sliire,  as  assistant  to  the  min- 
ister of  (Meish,  when  that  aged  pastor  died.  The 
parishioners  presented  immediately,  an  ahnosl  unani- 
mous petition  to  Mr.  Young,  the  patron,  who  resided 
n  the  parish,  praying  that  Mr.  Duncan  should  be  ap- 
pointed 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. 

'*  iVoy.  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  thyself  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  VV.  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  con- 
nected with  it  be  slender,  yet  godliness  with  content- 
ment is  great  gain,  and  if  I  do  not  err,  there  will  be 
much  more  than  contentment.  The  19th  was  the 
day  of  the  presentation,  and  now  we  are  doubly  bound, 
by  trial  and  care  on  one  hand,  and  by  abounding 
goodness  on  the  other,  to  have  faith  in  Him  who  leads 
his  chiWren  every  step,  and  even  when  they  dash 


172  MEMOIR    OF 

their  foot  against  a  stone,  turns  the  pain  to  advan- 
tage." 

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

"  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  direct- 
ing eye  of  your  beloved  father.  Your  mention  of  the 
dear  departed  one,*  whose  empty  place  saddens  you 
)iow,  drew  tears  from  my  eyes.  As  years  roll  on,  we 
leani  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  revolving  seasons.  But  brighter  in  proportion 
should  our  heavenly  hopes  become,  and  with  more 
entire  afiiance  should  we  cling  to  the  only  friend  who 
can  never  fail  us.  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.  All,  what  an  unkind 
wish  !  Be  it  ours,  wherever  we  are,  to  press  forward, 
and  the  pearly  gates  shall  be  opened  for  ua,  anS  we 
shall  be  with  our  covenant  God,  and  those  he  has 
taught  us  to  love  so  well.     *     * 

"  I  find  it  necessary  to  join  trembling  with  my  hap 
py  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,  anJ 
tried  to  get  some  of  our  absentees  to  school  again 
One  poor  man  I  saw  slowly  dying  of  consumption  at 
his  work  ol'  slioemaking.  His  sickly  appearance 
interested  me  a  year  ago,  but  I  cannot  gst  a  word  of 
bim  alone,  for  the  small  room  is  always  filled  witl 
•  Mr.  Duncnn's  mother. 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  173 

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  Work-house  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  ?  0  ! 
we  should  live  to  him :  and  after  all,  even  if  he  had 
suffered  the  clouds  to  blacken  and  the  storm  to  beat, 
we  should  have  had  cause  to  love  him  in  that  dark 
day,  for  we  know  that  He  who  spared  not  his  Son, 
can  send  us  nothing  but  what  is  in  truth  a  blessing, 
though  it  may  come  in  the  form  of  a  very  heavy- 
punishment.  0  !  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  to  hear  about  you,  and,  most  of  all,  when  1  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.  He  will  do  it, 
for  he  is  full  of  love  to  our  poor  race,  and  is  not  wil- 
ling that  any  should  perish  ;  and  he  would  not  have  put 
into  your  heart  a  desire  to  love  him,  without  design- 
ing to  give  you  the  requisite  grace,  and  to  teach  you 
by  the  Holy  Spirit.  Cease  to  look  for  any  thing  good 
in  yourself ;  for,  should  you  live  to  be  one  hundred 
years  old,  i/ou  will  never  find  it.  The  corruption  of 
our  hearts  lies  too  deep  for  any  thing  but  the  blood 
15* 


174  MEMOIR    OF 

of  Jesus  to  wash   away,  and  0,  my  J -y,  does  it 

not  fill  you  with  lo\c  and  sorrow  to  think  how  wil- 
lingly he  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,"  &c. ;  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 
tpiickly  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. 
"  Edingurgh,  December  30. — I  rejoice  to  hear  that 
you  preached  with  ease  on  Sunday,  and  hope  some 
word  went  home  to  the  conscience.  When  sermons 
are  prepared  with  prayer,  may  we  not  hope  that  they 
will  prove  useful  to  some  hearer,  whose  case  we  may 
be  ignorant  of,  but  for  whose  sake  the  subject  has 
been  sugirested  to  the  preaclier  by  the  Searcher  of 
hearts  ?  I  long  to  know  more  about  the  people  of 
(yleish,  their  chief  characteristics,  and  their  state  of 
advancement ;  and,  as  you  become  acquainted  with 
them,  you  will  let  me  know  the  result  of  your  ob- 
servations. Oh!  my  friend,  have  we  not  cause  to  be 
liappy  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 
l)right,  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  wc  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 


MARY   I.UNDIE   DUNCAN.  175 

become  enfeebled  and  diseased,  and  shall  we  not  one 
day  look  back  on  our  folly  with  prief  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  con- 
jure you,  and  let  me  feel  at  peace  on  your  account. 
Let  me  not  sink  under  the  thought  that  that  attach- 
ment 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  wo 
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  d;iy  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 
\is  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 
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  Sa- 
viour, or  to  purify  her  own,  and  render  it  more  meet 
for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints,  was  her  ceaseless 
aim.  She  had  selected  the  position  of  partner  to  a 
clergyman  ;  and  now  that  his  station  was  appointed, 
she  prepared  herself  as  seduously  for  her  share  in  the 
duties  of  a  retired  country  parish  as  though  she  had 
resting  on  herself  all  the  pastoral  responsibihty. 

Diary.— ''January  1,  1836.— The  year  1835,  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, 


17G  MEMOIR    OF 

to  resist  temptation,  and  break  snares  even  when  thej 
were  twining  most  alluringly  around  me.  These 
thoughts  and  prayers  were  not  without  some  effect. 
Yet  should  1  have  believed  the  vision  had  it  been 
shown  me  when  the  year  began  ?  Alas !  human 
strength  is  but  weakness,  and  constantly  contracted 
pollution  needs  constant  washing  in  my  Lord's  shed 
blood.  IIow  can  I  grieve  Him  who  gave  his  life  foi 
me  I  My  earthly  friends  I  have  seen.  There  art 
some  whose  smile  is  dear  to  me  as  the  light  of  morn- 
ing, and  whose  voice  is  melody  to  my  soul.  Them  I 
do  not  forget.  To  th(;m  1  could  not  be  untrue.  Yet 
I  am  unmindful  of  Ilim  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  for- 
giveness, and  a  constant  dedication  of  myself  to  thee. 
Oh !  send  a  blessing  larger  than  I  can  contain.  This 
year  may  produce  permanent  changes  in  my  condi- 
tion :  we  cannot  but  hope,  but  would  leave  all  to  our 
King.  Meantime,  may  it  be  spent  to  his  glory.  I 
would  observe  a  few  points  to  aim  at;  1st,  More 
openness  and  confidence  with  my  dearest  mother  ;  2d, 
Self-denial;  3d,  Diligent  improvement  of  every  hour; 
•1th,  Lowliness,  esteeming  others  belter  than  myself, 
not  wishing  to  be  noticed  or  admired  for  my  singing, 
looks,  or  conversation.  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. *■' 

'I'wo  lines  written  at  this  date  show  her  ready 
sympathy  with  the  alllictions  of  others,  referring  as 
they  do  to  a  neighbouring  family  of  but  recent  ac- 
quaintance, and  remind  us  again  of  a  never-failing 
method  by  which  we  may  succour  the  alllicted,  even 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  177 

when  we  have  no  opportunity  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  soutrht 
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  him- 
self, 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  1 
have  simply  told  you,  my  second  mother,  the  facts  ot 
the  case.  Mr.  Duncan  loves  me  very  much,  and  so 
far  as  human  foresight  can  discern,  I  have  a  fair  pros 
pect  of  domestic  happiness." 

To  her  lately  found  London  school-fellow,  after 
mentioning  various  works  of  taste,  which  they  had 
mutually  been  reading,  such  as  De  la  Martine's  Tra- 
vels 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  af- 
fording 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  ?  Lot 
us,  dear,  live  more  on  prayer.    Our  minds  seek  other 


178  MRMOIR    OF 

food  ;  amusement  and  instruction  from  other  sources 
and   it  is  well.     But  through  all  this,  sweet  commu- 
nion 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 
warnilh,  had  been  in  deep  and  prolonged  allhclion. 
To  her  she  wrote  in  March  in  such  a  strain,  that  the 
reader  melts  at  the  humility  which  ardour  and  exalta- 
tion serve  but  to  increase  : 

''March,  183C, — 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  short- 
comings, 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  (V^ward  in  the 
narrow  way.  Oh,  for  a  clear  and  never-failing  evi- 
dence that  we  are  advancing  to  this  bourne  conti- 
nually." 

To  a  friend  in  Kelso. 
"  Edinburgh,  April  29. —       *  *       To  me  this 

has  been  a  weary  time,  and  I  liave  sickened  for 
fresh  air  and  green  fields ;  but  1  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  liule  more  submissive,  and  not  to  look  for  so 
much  happiness  in  this  poor  world  as  1  once  did. 
*  He  shall  sit  as  a  refmer  and  purifier  of  silver,' 
and  make  me  and  all  his  dear  children  meet  for  a 
better  world,  by  every  turn  of  his  providence."     To 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  179 

the  same  dear  friend  she  wrote  nearer  the  time  of 
her  marriage  : — "  *  *  Your  beautiful  present 
will  be  very  useful  to  me,  and  standing-  before  me 
in  my  private  hours,  will  remind  me  of  you,  and 
bring  to  my  heart  the  cheering  hope,  that  the  daugh- 
ter 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  peti- 
tion, for  I  would  not  be  a  barren  fig-tree  to  stand  he- 
fore  the  sacred  courts  of  my  God,  and  by  a  show  of 
useless  leaves,  hinder  others  from  bearing  the  pre- 
cious 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  influ- 
ence, Oh!  how  shall  I  answer  it?  But  my  hope 
is  in  Him,  who  increaselh  strength  to  those  who 
have  no  might ;  and  when  1  think  of  his  Almighty 
arm  being  around  all  his  redeemed  ones,  doubt  and 
."ear  are  changed  to  a  calm  and  trusting  peace.  Hut 
these  things  show  you  how  much  I  need  the  suppli- 
cations of  those  to  whom  I  am  united  in  Jesus  Christ. 
I  often  remember  the  time  when  1  was  your  little 
bridesmaid,  knowing  little  of  the  solemnity  and  the 
responsibilities  of  marriage,  but  sincerely  interested 
in  your  happiness.  You  have  gained  much  experi- 
ence 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  dif- 
ferent form,  or  tell  me  some  things  she  may  not  think 
of,  and  1  shall  be  truly  grateful  if  you  will.  *  * 
I  took  leave  of  my  pleasant  post  among  the  aged  wo- 
men in  the  Workhouse  two  days  ago,  and  Providence 
sent  a  young  lady  o{  deep  piety  to  more  than  fill  my 


180  MEMOIR   OF 

racant  place.  I  felt  happy  and  thankful  to  be  al- 
lowed to  introduce  her  among  them,  when  I  bade 
them  farewell." 

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

"  May,  1836. — 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  uncer 
tainties,  and  fears,  as  would  have  made  you  pity  and 
bo  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  excellence  of  the  portion  he  offers  in  clear  con- 
trast 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  min- 
gled with  my  sacrifice,  and  many  vain  thougiits  have 
escaped  me.  But  His  dealings  with  me  are  all  right, 
and  I  most  thankfully  feel  that  in  Him  I  have  what 
neither  life  nor  death  can  il(!|)rive  me  of;  and  He 
would  not  have  given  mo  uU  those  subjects  for 
thought,  but  to  make  earth  seem  less  attractive,  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  Oh !  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 


MAUY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  181 

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

The  difiiculties  being  removed,  she  wrote  to  the 
same  dear  friend,  in  her  usual  sweetly  dependent  and 
watching  frame  : — 

" /«ne,  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  wili'ully  grieve  this  '  Friend,  that  sticketb. 
closer  than  a  brother  V  My  steps  in  the  heavenly 
course  have  been  slow  and  faltering,  and  many  who 
commenced  it  later,  have  far  outrun  me.  I  only  won- 
der that  I  have  not  been  withered  away  like  the  fruit- 
less 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  de- 
sire to  love  Him  with  all  my  heart,  and  I  feel  with 
you  that  it  will  be  joy  unspeakable  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  de- 
cline. Oh  !  when  will  he  visit  me  with  the  light  of 
his  countenance,  and  make  me  feel  the  loss  of  his  fa- 
vour, 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.  He 
will  never  forsake  me,  a  sinner,  whom  he  very  early 
chose  for  a  vessel  of  mercv  ;  but  I  uay  be  one  of 
16  ' 


182  MKMOIR    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  glorifyinff,  my  blessed  Lord,  by 
living  for  something  else  mare  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  filled 
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, 
Miss  Frazer,  is  dying  fast  of  water  on  the  chest. 
Many  sorrows  have  turned  her  hair  too  early  grey, 
and  given  her  a  subdued,  placid,  heaven-waiting 
•look,  unlike  any  thing  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  rap- 
ture is  in  her  heart  and  on  her  lips !  Amid  her  la- 
boured breathings,  she  speaks  of  the  love  of  her  Re- 
deemer, who  is  very  near  her  in  the  day  of  her  ex- 
tremity, and  tells  her  friends  to  give  thanks  on  her 
behalf.  SJie  longs  to  be  with  Him,  and  feels  no  care 
now  about  leaving  the  various  useful  works  in  wliich 
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  coun- 
try, she  wrote  in  June  : — 

"  We  only  visited  the  General  Assembly  once,  at 
the  close.  It  was  a  fine  scene.  It  was  crowded 
with  ministers  and  people,  and  the  Moderator  ad- 
dressed them  solemnly,  summing  up  the  business, 
and  giving  a  view  of  the  condition  of  the  Church. 
Then  liie  full    body  of   voice  in  singing  the  psalra 


MARY    Ll'NDIE    DUNCAN.  183 

was  quite  spirit-stirring,  and  the  ihought  that  there 
kvere  present  the  teachers  of  thousands  of  God's 
people,  and  lliat  on  their  faithfidness  or  apathy  tht» 
late  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  : — 

"Thou  needst  not  talisman  or  gem, 

To  turn  thy  heart  to  me, 
While  nature  wears  her  diadem 

Of  star,  and  hill,  and  tree. 
All,  with  a  whisjier  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  bovvers  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. 
Bnt  this  memorial,  not  so  bright, 

Is  not  so  frail  as  they  : 
It  will  not  shrink  from  frosls  by  night, 

Or  droop  'neath  summer's  ray. 
Should  heavenly  Wisdom  ever  tear 

Thy  loved  one  from  thy  side, 
Tliis  little  lock  of  shining  hair 

Shall  near  thee  still  abide. 
Should  He  with  years  of  pleasure  bless 

Thy  long,  thy  faithful  truth. 
Thou  still  wilt  smile  u[X)n  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  IG,  1836. 


184  MEMOIR    OF 

Diary. — "May  5. — This  is  the  clay  appointed  for 
humiliation  and  prayer  ;  and  truly  theie  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 
the  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  refer- 
ence to  my  prospects,  has  been,  '  Thy  will  be  done  ;' 
and  yet  my  ways   have  often  been  quite  opposed  to 

that  holy  wilL     '  In  heaven,'  dear  F writes,  '  it 

will  be  quite  impossible  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 
ray  Saviour  is  ;  and  if  I,  in  truth,  desire  it,  I  must 
keep  ray  model  ever  before  me  here,  and  not  shut  my 
eyes  on  Him,  to  feed  on  ashes.     On  my  birth-day, 

my  dear  W was  here.     Oh,  I  should  like  to  help 

him  on  to  heaven ;  and  if  it  please  God  to  fulfil  om 
hopes,  I  shall  be  better  able  to  do  it  than  now.  Our 
God  knowelh  that  we  love  Him,  and  will,  I  do  believe 
bless  and  lead  us  all  our  life  long.  I  would  pray 
much  for  our  connexion,  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  as- 
sumed an  air  of  greater  certainly,  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 


MARY    Ll'NDIE    DUNCAN.  185 

been  ashamed  to  allude  to  them  hy  word  or  action. 
They  have  mingled  in  my  attempts  to  pray,  and  drawr 
me  aside  when  the  word  of  truth  was  sounding  in  my 
ears."  (It  is  but  just  to  say  that  not  the  preparation 
of  her  personal  accommodations  alone  devolved  on 
her,  but  in  some  degree  the  care  of  selecting  domestic 
conveniences.)  "  Ah,  deceitful  heart,  when  shall  I 
conquer  thee  ?  Shall  eternity  and  its  sublime  and 
awful,  but  most  delightful  realities,  be  driven  into  the 
second  place,  for  the  sake  of  '  the  meat  that  perisheth,' 
and  wiih  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  a 
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  mv 
youth.'  There  will  be  many  plans  to  form,  and  muc'b. 
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 
languish  without  it.  Let  mc  seek  such  a  spiritual 
frame  as  may  enable  me  to  look  on  '  time's  things'  as 
naught  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  make  this  union  the  means  of  pro- 
moting the  life  of  faith  in  our  own  souls,  and  of 
spreading  its  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  remem- 
bered promises?  Shine  on  us  with  thy  light,  O  Lord! 
revive  thy  work !  and  bless  the  attempts  of  that  pas- 
tor 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  !  Oh 
may  holiness  be  written  in  our  hearts  and  lives  !  May 
16* 


185  MEMOIR    OF 

zeal  for  God  surround  us,  and  our  own  things  be  to  us 
as  nothing,  compared  with  the  honour  of  our  Saviour's 
name  I" 

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


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  187 


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  interested  cousins  and  friends  had 
busied  themselves  in  decorating  the  drawing-room 
for  the  solemn  service,  during  the  morning.  After 
their  pleasant  task  was  accomplished,  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  compliment  to  the  taste 
of  Mary,  were  in  unusual  profusion.  There  lay  the 
gaily  adorned  bride's  cake,  which,  according  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  com- 
munion with  her  God,  that  she  was  unconscious  of 
the  presence  of  an  intruder.  The  occasion  was  too 
sacred  to  admit  of  social  union,  even  in  prayer,  and 
the  door  was  closed  as  it  had  been  opened,  with  a  pe- 
tition that  Jehovah  would  hear  and  accept  her  sacri- 
fice, without  her  becoming  conscious  of  the  inspec- 
tion of  a  human  eye. 


188  MEMOIR   OF 

The  next  entry  in  the  Diary  is  dated  Barnes,  a 
mansion-house  in  the  parisli  of  Cieish,  where  the 
young  couple  resided  for  soniu  time,  while  the  manse 
was  preparing. 

"Barnes,  August  5. — On  the  11th  July,  I  was 
united,  by  Mr.  Grey,  to  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  thiuk  my  feelings  would  have  been  overpow- 
ering. In  the  lirst  part  of  the  ceremony,  the  efTort 
not  to  weep  made  me  shake  like  a  leaf,  and  dear  aunt 

I held  me  up,  but  before  the  close  I  was  calm — 

it  was  short,  but  soothing  and  pious,  and  the  firm  em- 
phatic tone,  yet  full  of  feeling,  in  which  my  VV.  said 
the  words  '  1  do,'  encouraged  me  greatly,  i  did  not 
think  so  much  expression  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,  far  from  me  and  my 
little  nook.  *  *  21. — Returned  to  Ruthwell — Fri- 
day 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  Being  together.  It  was  one 
of  those  hours  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.     1  have  felt  the 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  189 

separation  from  a  mother  so  revered,  and  all  the  loved 
home  circle,  more  since  coming  here,  than  on  the 
1 1th,  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  present  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  superintend 
their  execution ;  and  1  hope  it  may  be  proved,  in  our 
experience,  that  godliness  with  contentment  is  great 
gain.  How  numerous  are  our  blessings.  W.'s  peo- 
ple love  him  ;  the  surrounding  families  here  have  re- 
ceived 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  accomplish- 
ment of  which  formed  one  of  the  stages  in  life's 
brief  journey.  But  on  this  journey,  where  is  perfect 
happiness  ?  "  The  depth  says  of  it,  as  of  wisdom,  it 
is  not  in  me.  The  sea  saith,  not  with  me.  It  can- 
not be  gotten  for  gold,  neither  shall  silver  be  weighed 
for  the  price  thereof."  In  acquaintance  with  God, 
there  is  peace ;  in  the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus, 
there  is  hope.  But  present  happiness,  that  joy  which 
hath  no  unfulfilled  desire,  is  not  an  earthly  joy.  God 
understandeth  the  way  thereof.  He  knoweth  the 
place  thereof.  It  is  in  heaven.  Even  a  king's  daugh- 
ter— a  bride  of  heaven,  finds  it  not  easy  to  forget 
her  own  people  and   her   father's   bouse ;  and   the 


190  MEMOIR    OF 

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,  thougli  applying  not  to  kindred 
but  to  accustomed  objects,  in  part  exhibits  the  senti- 
ment. 

"  Wept  o'er  each  flower,  her  garden's  blameless  pride, 
Kissed  the  young  fawn  tliat  sorrowed  by  her  side  : 
Slill  to  relieve  her  bosom's  bursting  swell, 
To  flower  and  fawn  prolonged  the  sad  farewell.' 

Thus,  amid  the  accomplishment  of  her  wishes,  wrote 
the  young  wife  : — "  Oh,  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. 
"  Barnes  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 
delightful,  but  too  brief.  Now,  we  could  hold  sweet 
counsel  of  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  of  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  earn- 
estly hope  that  you,  who  began  later,  have  far  out- 
stripped me  in  the  Christian  race,  for  I  have  to  de- 
plore many  wanderings  of  heart  from  God,  and  much 
coldness  and  ingratitude.  Would  that  I  could  love 
him  as  the  angels  do,  and  find,  at  all  times,  my  life, 
my  solace,  in  converse  him.  But  were  I  to  permit 
my  harp,  which  is  hanging  on  the  willows,   to   eraiv 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  191 

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  cnlrcatinj^  you  first  to  pray  often  for  me. 
Dearest !  may  1  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  send- 
ing Ion — charming  Ion !  How  1  admire  his  noble 
character.  I  feel  almost  p.s  strong  a  wish  to  know 
Talfourd  as  Meta  did  to  know  Klopstok,  after  reading 
the  Messiah  !  W.  could  tell  you  that  he  thought  I 
had  almost  lost  my  senses  while  he  read  it  to  me — it 
produced  so  strong  an  affect.  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  feel- 
ing ;  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  study  ;  and  when  I  roamed  about  in  this 
great  unsocial-looking  house,  I  felt  as  if  I  had 
been  dropped  down  in  the  midst  of  a  wilder- 
ness."    *     *     * 

"  Now  that  we  are  settled  in  our  retired  and  peace- 
ful home,  striving,  in  some  degree,  to  fulfil  the  very 
importaiit  duties  to  which  God  has  called  us,  W.  is 
very  desirous  to  adopt  every  plan  for  the  improve- 
ment of  his  people,  and  has  opened  Sabbath  schools, 
and  classes  for  grown-up  young  persons, — encroach- 
ments on  Satan's  reign,  unknown  here  formerly.  Do 
pray  for  a  blessing  on  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  7niist  prosper.  Write 
soon,  love,  to  one  who  always  j)rizes  your  lettert.,  and 


102  MEMOIR   OF 

surely  will  not  do  so  the  less,  because  she  is  now 
removed  from  uU  she  loves  except  one,  and  has  a  life 
of  more  solitude  ia  prospect  than  she  ever  had 
before." 

Occupation  for  the  benefit  of  the  strangers  who 
were  to  be  in  future  her  neighbours,  was  the  best 
eniolient  for  the  wounds  inflicted  by  being  un- 
rooted from  the  family  of  her  youthful  and  con- 
stant associates,  and  the  objects  of  so  much  sis- 
terly 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  of  this  hope  ?  But  it  is  not  too  late  yet. 
I  trust  God  will  enable  me  to  live  nmch  closer  to 
him,  and  then  I  may  reasonably  hope  to  be  useful 
to  my  dear  partner ;  lor  in  converse  with  God  is  my 
strength.  Help  me,  0  Lord !  for  if  thou  do  not  al- 
ways speak  to  me  by  thy  teaching  spirit,  I  must  fall ; 
and  oh  !  let  me  not  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  that  sacred  in- 
structor." 

"  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  mv 
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  bles- 
sedness of  saints  in  taking  leave  of  ordinances  for 
ever,  and  being  in  the  very  presence  of  God.  Men- 
tioned Matthew  Henry's  illustration,  '  When  the  sun 
shines,  farewell  candle.'     Some  looked  anxious   and 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN,  193 

serious.     Oh  !  I  hope  the  Lord  has  his  own  amon^ 

them!     Of  M S I  have  «iOod  hope.     But  if 

more  be  not  true  Christians,  how  grievous  !     They  all 
seek  adiiiiltance  to  the  feast." 

To  a  newly-acquired  cousin  she  wrote,  '  I  must 
find  limo  to  thank  you  for  your  very  kind  and  welcome 
lines.  There  are  few  people  on  whom  aflection  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  Ruthvvell  has 
made  me  acquainted  with  you,  and  I  am  sure  wo 
shall  not  forget  each  other,  for  we  are  neither  of  us 
very  cold,  and  Christian  love  would  live,  even  suppos- 
ing our  regard  on  other  grounds  might  dwindle.  My 
husband  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,  183G. — 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 — everlasting  spring,  will  soon  come,  and  then 
how  peacefully  shall  we  repose  under  the  shade  of 
the  Sun  of  life,  and  remember  sorrow  but  as  a  de- 
parted friend,  sent  to  quicken  our  footsteps  to  our 
blessed  resting-place.  Dearest  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  clo-ser  than  a  brother?'  In  what  is  there  so 
17 


19  I  MEMOIR    OF 

great  (lelight  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  weak- 
ness, or  mourning  for  sin  ;  but  an  ovcrflowmg  of  joy 
and  love,  in  the  immediate  presence  of  Him,  whom, 
now  unseen,  we  love  ;  and  who  can  tell  how  soon  this 
blessed  consummation  may  I)e  ours  ?  We  must  not 
slumber  at  our  posts ;  for  behold,  '  the  Bridegroom 
cometh.'  Alas  !  you  do  not  know  what  a  poor,  fee- 
ble, faltering  creature  is  thus  writing  of  the  hope"  -♦».- 
vealed  in  the  Gospel ;  yet  I  may  so  write,  for  even  to 
me  these  hopes  have  been  revealed  :  and  though  often 
ready  to  halt  and  to  stumble,  they  are — Oh,  that  they 
were  more  constantly  and  joyfully  I — my  song  in  the 
house  of  my  pilgrimage.  Blessed  Saviour,  who  does 
not  weary  of  loving  and  leading  me  !  Blessed  Gos- 
pel, 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 
o/je  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 
(Jod,  for  the  rescue  of  one  poor  wanderer.  But  he 
lias  many  to  work  for  him,  and  many  ways  of  work- 
ing, 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 


MARV   LUNDIE    DUNC/VN.  195 

cannot  but  cry,  '  Hast  thou  not  a  blessing  for  me  also, 
Oh  my  Father  V  " 

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  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.  Yester- 
day, M S *  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 
communion,  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  Sa- 
viour'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  Institutor  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,  &;c.,  a  farther  view  may  be  taken  by 
the  following  extract.  To  the  children  of  the  Manse, 
the  arrangement  is  familiar ; — to  others  it  will  be 
new: — 

*  A  young  woman  of  the  class. 


196  MEMOIR    OF 

"  We  have  had  a  sweet  season  of  communion 
*  pleasant  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.  Ho  dwelt  much  on  the  love  of  Christ 
constraining  us  to  live  to  his  glory,  and  fenced  the 
tables  solemnly,  comforting  the  penitent,  and  warn- 
ing  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  com- 
municant, and  by  having  almost  every  thing  done  be- 
fore going  to  church,  I  have  not  been  obliged  to  kee'p 
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-dedication,  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  7  •  *  *  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.  Dun- 
can's work  entitled  "  Sacred  Philosophy  of  the  Sea- 
sons," which  he  delighted  to  make  a  family  concern, 
by  receiving  a  few  contributions.  His  contributors, 
however,   had  the  advantage  of  selecting  their  sub- 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  197 

jects  from  his  list,  while  he  wrote  on  all  those  which 
failed  to  attract  his  circle.  Mary's  papers  were  sim- 
ple, 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  Evening,"  are  marked 
with  her  initial  sign,  M.  L.  D.  In  a  letter  early  in 
the  year  1837,  she  inquires : — 

"  Has  uncle  Henry  seen  the  Journal  of  a  Natural- 
ist, which  I  am  reading  ?  It  would  be  after  his  own 
heart.  The  description  of  the  snow-drop  there,  sug- 
gested to  me  a  few  verses,  which  I  thought  of  send- 
ing, 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    S.NOW-DROP. 

"  Hail !  rocked  by  winter's  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  parent's  sorrow  tnie, 
Thou  meekly  bow'st  thy  head  before  the  sweeping  storm. 

Rising  amid  our  garden  bowers, 

That  yield  to  thee  no  sheltering  screen, 
Thou  bid'st  us  hope  for  brighter  hours, 

When  spring  shall  weave  her  wreath  of  green. 
Nor  there  alone,  *  in  some  long  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. 

Though  one  and  all,  the  smiUng  train. 
On  the  forsaken  bank  have  died, 

*  "  The  damask  rose,  the  daffodil,  or  the  stock  of  an  old  bul- 
lace  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  mein  and  his  labours." — Journal  of  a  NaU 
vralist. 

17* 


198  MEMOm   OF 

The  dews  of  eve  have  fallen  in  vain  ; 

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

Thou  mourn'st  alone  the  wreck  of  time  ; 
The  cottar's  ruined  dwcUing-p'ace, 
The  evening  hearth  of  old,  the  happy  voices'  chime. 

And  shall  we  call  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  I  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 


MARY   LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  (!& 


CHAPTER    XI 


■^  ^     •  jta:.  solicitudes — maternal  emotions. 

Y  V  t  ^)rot\ers  and  a  cousin  passed  their  week  of 
ii  ^p  K  )i\om  X  tiidy  at  the  close  of  the  year,  with  her  ; 
a\  il  ii  IS  a  SL'-Ject  of  grateful  remembrance,  that  from 
this  visit  and  vhei  \;  efforts  for  his  spiritual  weal,  one 
dear  youth  daies  ?\.s  first  avvakeninjT  to  the  value  and 
peril  of  nis  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  rciurned  to  his  studies  : — "  Kinross,  Feb.  7, 
1837.  I  i.ave  stolen  away  from  a  friend's  drawing 
room,  to  pe.i  sucn  a  note  as  I  have  time  for.  I  am 
sorry  you  \ia\\'  had  influenza,  and  hope  you  are  strong 
again.  Sucn  -shi^ht  discipline  should  make  us  look 
well  to  our  ways,  and  see  why  our  kind  Lord  smites 
us  ;  lest,  by  rofus^xi,^  the  intended  lesson,  we  draw  on 
us  sorer  punishme-T-.  I  hope  that,  whether  confined 
in  solitude,  or  in  ihe  midst  of  the  lively  interest  of 
your  classes,  you  kee^)  near  Him,  and  seek  Him  as 
the  companion  of  all  your  ways.  I  was  struck  lately 
by  reading  the  answer  of  a  good  man  to  those  ap- 
pointed to  try  if  he  was  fit  for  the  ministry.  They 
asked  if  be  had  felt  a  work  of  grace  in  his  heart. 


200  MEMOIR    OF 

He  replied,  "  I  call  the  Searcher  of  hearts  to  witnesi' 
that  I  make  conscience  of  my  very  thoughts."  What 
a  proof  of  sincerity !  What  a  sure  way  to  have  the 
iglit  of  God's  presence  sliining  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 
tliose  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  exer- 
cising 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  your  state  of  mind,  and  then  I  shall  know  better 
what  to  say." 

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

"Jan.,  1837.— *  *  *  The  sense  of  thr 

tenderness  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  un- 
C^\i  at  other  times.     And  such,  dearest,  has   been 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  201 

your  frequent  experience,  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  messajre 
from  your  Father.  This  lengthened  period  of  deli- 
cacy grieves  mc  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  submission,  and  blessed  with 
a  heart-reviving  view  of  another  and  a  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  admitted. 
If  they  were,  sorrow  would  be  all  joy.  The  down- 
cast 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,  1  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  mercy-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  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  shel- 
tered than  ever  it  was  before.  You  will  see  how 
weak  1  am,  when  I  tell  you,  that  I  often  shrink  back, 


202  MEMOIR    OF 

and  wish  I  were  not  in  person  to  act  and  make  deci- 
sions, 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  re- 
sponsibility, 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  feci  those 
words,  "  Ye  are  as  a  city  set  on  a  hill."  The  char- 
acter and  advancement  of  the  simple  and  teachable 
people  here,  depends  under  God,  very  much  on  my 
husband,  and  therefore,  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,  example,  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  laboured  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  tliis  faithfully,  pray  that  I  may  re 
ceive  of  that  fulness,  and  that  strength  may  be  per 
fected  in  my  exceeding  weakness.  Were  you  near, 
I  could  make  you  understand  exactly  how  it  is,  and 
you  would  say  to  me,  as  I  often  do  to  myself,  "  Martha, 
Martha,"  &lc.  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  thoughti 
ihtrude,  and  the  gentle  calls  of  my  Lord  have  littW 
power  to  win  me  to  a  patient  waiting  in  his  presence 
How  long  shall  it  be  sc  !     Ah '  my  own  kind  friend 


MARY  LUNDIE  nUNCAN.  203 

now  when  you  aro  much  shut  up  to  prayer,  remember 
me,  a  poor  and  helpless,  and  Car  worse,  a  vile  and 
ungratefid  rebel,  encompassed  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  thee !  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  last  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  ministers  of  the  everlasting  gospel." 

"  1  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  con- 
tained in  many  of  them,  when  the  loss  of  a  most  ten- 
der and  revered  parent,  made  me  one  of  the  father- 
less. God  became  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  to  his  Saviour.  May  this  be 
your  privilege  and  mine  many  times.  It  fills  me  with 
wonder  that  God  condescends  to  employ  his  feeble 
children  as  instruments  of  good  to  others  :  but  he  has 
told  us  why  the  treasure  is  in  earthern  vessels.  I 
shall  be  glad  to  resume  with  you  the  communion  that 
I  never  like  to  have  interrupted.  It  would  be  pleas- 
ant to  learn  an  epistle — shall  it  be  that  to  the  Colos- 
sians  ?  I  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   an  especial   love   for  that  evening, 


204 


MEMOIR.   UF 


when  a  party  of  Christians,  thou<,'h  far  distant,  meet 
in  spirit  to  entreat  the  outpouring  of  the  Spirit  on 
themselves,  the  church,  and  the  world  at  large.  Do 
join  U5,  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  emancipated  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  con- 
venience ;  and  during  the  winter  of  1839,  when  con- 
fined to  bed,  it  was  a  common  morning  exercise,  that 
her  sister  should  read  her  a  hymn,  which  on  the 
second  hearing,  she  could  recite  without  mistake. 

To  her  London  School-fellow. 
"  Barnes,  Fehruary  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  bowing  to  the  Virgin,  or,  feeling  it  folly, 
might  in  heart  have  renounced  all  religion  as  mum- 
mery and  superstition.  I  wonder  if  you,  or,  indeed, 
if  any  but  the  descendants  of  these  noble  martyrs — • 
^ose  who  have  seen  their  wild  and  loneiy  i^mbs,  and 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUXCAN.  205 

heard  the  harrowing  tales  of  their  sufferings,  and 
breathed  the  same  free  air  that  played  around  them, 
as  they  confessed  their  constancy  in  the  sight  of  hea- 
ven and  earth, — can  be  fired  with  the  same  enthusi- 
asm, and  feel  the  same  mingled  piety  and  indignation 
at  those  who  thirsted  for  their  blood  1  No  wonder 
that  we,  in  Scotland,  love  our  church,  which  was 
sown  among  so  many  tears  of  our  best  and  bravest." 

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  2b. — A  few  more  months  and 
(if  spared  till  then,)  a  critical  time  will  come,  and 
why  should  the  husbandman  let  a  barren  tree  re- 
main 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  I  am  a.  branch  of  the 
life-giving  tree,  anci  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  realised  the  pros- 
pect of  shining  as  a  star  in  the  mediatorial  crown. 
What  eagerness  for  good  would  there  be  then  !  What 
prayers  for  mercy  !  What  anxiety  to  '  feed  many  ' 
from  my  lips,  by  the  truths  the  Spirit  teaches.  Oh 
Lord,  undertake  for  me  !  My  spirit  has  less  of  so- 
lemnity 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  hus- 
18 


20G  MEMOIR    OF 

band,  and  not  to  lure  his  heart  to  settle  on  earth  and 
me.  The  fear  of  God  docs  regulate  this  little  family, 
but  we  want  more  life,  more  love.  Lord  hear  my 
prayer  and  come  and  save  us  !" 

"  Sabbat/i,  April  IG. — 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  e.vhorting  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  sometime  an 
exile  from  the  courts  of  the  temple.  But  '  the  uni- 
verse 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  warn- 
ing 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  anticipations  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  pres- 
ence, and  to  '  Jerusalem  my  happy  home.'  1  do  not 
feel  afraid  to  die,  but,  were  death  close  upon  me, 
should  1  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  limes  shades  my  spirit ;  of  pains 
sucb  as  1  never  endured  ;  of  new  and  anxious  respon- 
6il)ilities  ;  but  through  all  this,  grace  can  and  will  sup- 
port even  me  ;  and  1  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." 

'' Ajiril  23. —  Mv  class  is  gone;  there  were  thir- 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  207 

teen.  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  Scripture  into  the  form  of  supplications,  and  use 
them  as  tlioy  walk  by  the  way.  Oh,  for  the  teaching 
of  the  Spirit  to  make  them  wise  unto  salvation  !  I 
painfully  feel  my  own  coldness  and  deadness,  and 
would  i'ain  awake  to  newness  of  life.  My  God  has 
shut  me  up  alone  while  others  meet  in  his  beloved 
courts.  1  do  love  them !  but  is  it  with  the  fervent 
love  of  earlier  days,  when  the  words  of  truth  were 
as  maima  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  the  good 
fight,'  but  through  grace  I  will  cling  to  my  Saviour, 
dh !  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  the  last,  how  many  mercies  has  God  given  me, 
with  some  slight  chastisements  that  came  threefold 
increascMJ,  because  I  did  not  cast  all  my  care  upon 
Him,  but  kept  some  of  it  to  carry  myself.  I  have  the 
prospect  of  introducing  a  new  inhabitant  into  a  world 
of  sin,  and,  I  trust,  an  heir  of  glory  to  the  dawn  of 
an  immortal  existence.  Oh  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  slow  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  !  whan 
shall  I   be  like  Jesus?     In  heaven? — Yes:  but  the 


203  MEMOia   OF 

likeness  must  begin  on  earth.     Oh  that  the  breath 
of   prayer  may  be  fervent  and  unweaiied !" 

It  is  worthy  of  remark  here,  that  tlie  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  hea- 
vily to  his  charge  that  which  is  caused  by  his  infir- 
mity, and  feels  as  if,  like  Samson,  he  has  been  envei- 
gleil  into  the  shearing  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,  whtMi  they  attain  their  glorified  bodies,  they  shall 
know  and  discriminate  between  tlie  backsliding  spirit, 
and  the  tabernacle  of  clay.  This  is  one  of  the  innu- 
merable 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  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  un- 
derstand and  enter  into  my  feelings,  and  bring  to  my 
remembrance  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  coun- 
sel, 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 
hrenthcd  before  him.  May  not  some  sweet  glimpses 
of  his  love  he  given  to  me  in  answer  to  these  peti- 
tions, by  him  who  has  said,  '  Pray  for  one  another.' 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  209 

Ob  that  I  had  more  of  the  spirit  of  prayer,  and  could 
more  freely  and  earnestly  plead  the  promises,  so 
boundless  and  60  unfailing.  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  way- 
ward heart  is  in  the  school  of  Christ,  and  will  be  dis- 
ciplined at  last. 

"  I  do  not  know  if  I  hinted  to  you  in  my  last  the 
prospect  that  lies  before  me,  that  of  becoming  a  mo- 
ther.    Oh!  my  friend,  what  a  tide  of  feelings  rushes 
upon   me   as  I  write  !     How  great  the  responsibility 
of  being  intrusted  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,  ygam 
the  Lord  will  lay  no  duty  upon  me,  but  what  he   vvil 
enable  me  to  discharge.    Will  you  pray  much  for  me 
dearest  F.?    You  will  not  know  when  I  am  suffering, 
or  what  the  issue  is  at  the  time.     But  oh !  commit 
me  to  a  God  of  compassion  every  day,  and  then  you 
will  be  able  to  feel  for  me  what,  I  hope.  He  will  en- 
able me  to  feel  for  myself,  a  sweet  confidence  that  all 
will  be  well.     Yes  ;  it  must  be  well !     It  would  be  a 
mercy  to  be  raised  up  again,  and  restored  to  my  ten- 
der husband,  and  the  duties  that  he  before  me.     But 
if  I  am  taken,  I  know  whose  shed  blood  will  gain  ac- 
cess  even  for  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  beUeve  that  should  he  take  me, 
He  will  give  me  a  place  in  his  own  temple.     It  will 
be  the  lovvest  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.       Oh 
that  I  could  respond  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  tha 


210  MEMOIR   OF 

I  am  one  of  His,  when  tlie  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  shall  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  pru- 
dent that  1  should  not  go,  so  I  am  left  alone  to  pre- 
pare 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  liear  my 
dear  W.'s  voice  entreating  them  to  cling  to  the  Sa- 
viour ;  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  be- 
yond 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  modera- 
tion even  in  labour  is  a  duly,  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  ex- 
posed to  the  wasting  winds  ?  Few  err  on  this  side, 
but  surely  holy  and  devoted  men  w^ould  do  well  to  re- 
member that  they  are  stewards  of  their  strength,  and 
would  do  well  to  put  it  out  to  the  best  interest.  Will 
you  resuras  om-  valued  evening  intercourse,  beginning 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  211 

in  Bogatzky's  Treasury  at  the  portion  specified  for 
what(>.ver  day  it  may  be  ?" 

A  postscript  to  this  letter,  by  another  hand,  an- 
nounces that  a  new  object  for  the  exercise  of  her  af- 
fections 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.  *  #  j  have  been 
kindly  dealt  with,  and  brought  safely  out  of  many 
dangers.  My  trust  in  God  has,  I  think,  been  in- 
creased 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  docs  not  smile  ex- 
cept 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  wrong  day,  love,  but  it 
would  not  be  the  less  listened  to." 

To  a  friend  in  Kelso. 
"Barnes,  June  4,  1837. — I  want  to  thank  you  foi 
vour  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  affections.  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 
Jold,  and  surely  this  little  one  will  be  among  those 
whom  he  carries  in  His  bosom.     When  you  reraem- 


212  MEMOIR.   OF 

her  those  hours  to  which  you  aUude,  in  Kclst  manse, 
where  you  heard  from  my  (h^ar  parents  of  a  Saviour's 
love,  will  you  let  the  thouglit  remind  you  to  pray  for 
their  dt^ar  little  grandcliild.  No  one  can  quite  under- 
stand a  mother's  iVelings  till  taught  by  experience.  It 
seemed  like  opening  a  new  fountain  in  my  heart, — a 
iuve  unlikci  what  I  feel  for  any  other  ;  but  no  greater 
than  all  other  love,  as  I  have  heard  some  mothers  say 
it  is.  1  sleep  with  baby,  and  I  am  a  great  deal  with 
her ;  and,  oh  !  I  would  have  my  heart  always  filled 
with  petitions  for  her." 

Tu  her  friend  near  London. 
"Barnes,  July  29. — xMy  beloved  friend,  do  not 
think  that  I  have  been  so  long  silent  because  all  my 
love  is  centered  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  this  little  one  may  be  folded 
with  the  flock  of  Jesus,  the  loving  Shepherd  of  help- 
less 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 
1  might  pour  out  my  heart  to  you.  It  ought  to  be 
more  fdled  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 
rae  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  hea- 
venly love  which  makes  Christi'in  intercourse  so  de- 
lightful on  earth  *         *         Thank  you,  my  own 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  213 

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  when  I  saw 
her  so  well,  and  so  quickly  growing.  Now,  I  some- 
times 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 
o{  domestics,  and  under  the  drawings  of  heart  for  the 
soul  of  her  child,  her  spirit  seemed  more  continually 
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  improve- 
ment, 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-tokeus  going  on 
between  her  and  friends  in  various  situations  and  sta- 


2 1  i  MEMOIR    OF 

tions  in  society.  Even  the  gift  of  a  bit  of  honey 
comb  from  one  of  her  pupils,  was  too  pleasant  to  her 
to  I)e  passed  unnoticed  in  a  hotter  ;  and  she  expresses 
her  wonder  that  her  efibrts  to  be  useful  to  the  girls  of 
her  class  should  all  along  bo  returned  by  such  kind- 
ness and  love  to  iierself.  "  But,"  she  adds,  "  1  de- 
sire to  be  thankful,  hoping  that  to  some  of  them  the 
word  has  not  been  spoken  in  vain."  In  a  letter,  writ- 
ten before  her  babo  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  theit 
frock,  and  told  them  she  was  come  to  thank  them  for 
it.  They  could  not  be  satisfied  till  every  one  had 
held  her  in  their  arms  :  so,  poor  little  lassie  !  she  had 
many  transfers.  We  afterwards  read  the  paralde  of 
the  wedding  garment,  and  the  passage  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  an- 
swers, of  any  token  of  improvement,  &c.,  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  descrij)tion  ;  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,  &c.  &c.,  stand  still  in  her  writing, 
memorials  of  the  loving  teacher  and  friend  who  was 
W'ilh  them  for  a  season,  as  well  as  a  fragment  of 
prayer  by  one  who  did  not  survive  to  finish  it,  con- 
cluded with  the  following  afFecting  memorandum  : — 
"  '  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  llim  she  loves."  She  also  enters,  in 
reference  to  this  young   person,  "  M.  G.   communi- 


MARY    LUNDIE   DUNCAN.  215 

cated  for  the  second  time,  December  17, — died  Janu- 
ary 18, — in  hope  of  glory."  In  a  letter,  writing  of 
M.  G.,  that  her  disease  was  fever,  she  adds,  "  She 
has  been  ill  three  weeks,  and  I,  partly  from  dilatori- 
ness,  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  serious- 
ness and  earnestness  about  her  in  particular  during 
the  past  few  months,  very  encouraging  to  witness. 
She  has  carried  on  family  worship  for  her  grandmo- 
ther;  and  often  in  fine  mornings,  early,  her  neigh- 
bours 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  yes- 
terday, with  many  tears,  that  we  had  made  M.  a  new 
woman.  Oh  that  this  bitter  sorrow  might  teach  her 
who  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  l)een  very  wrong!  I  hope 
this  may  be  a  lesson  to  me.  I  wish  1  more  fully  be- 
lieved and  trusted  the  promises  in  the  ninety-first 
psajm  !" 

If  such  was  her  lively  interest  when  tokens  of 
good  appeared,  and  such  her  severe  rebukes  of  her- 
self, when  not  quite  clear  that  her  own  actions  ot 
motives  would  bear  to  be  weighed  in  the  balance  of 
the  sanctuary,  how  deep  was  her  grief,  how  mourn- 
ful 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  tb  t  y  have 
got  a  dispensation  for  sin,  were  day«  of  heavines»«» 


216  MKMOIK  OF 

to  her, — days  of  mourning,  as  if  her  children  had 
fallen  into  sin,  and  of  much  prayer  for  restraining 
grace. 

In  reply  to  advice  and  consolation,  tendered  on  oc- 
casion of  her  having  poured  out  her  grief  on  account 
of  some  transgression,  the  rebuking  of  which  had 
produced  retaliation  by  the  enemy's  old  weapons — 
censure  and  slander — 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  never  be.  But  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  per- 
son to  manage  with  those  who  are  wise  in  their 
own  eyes.  Grace  could  soften  them.  When  will 
11  come  ?  We  have  need  of  patience,  and  to  be 
always  looking  to  Jesus,  our  meek  and  holy  pat- 
tern." 

"  Wallace  appealed  to  his  people  on  Sunday,  on 
the  use  they  had  made  of  his  ministry.  It  was  very 
touching,  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  llee  to  the  city  of  refuge  I  I  am  dwelling 
with  great  delight  on  Pike's  Guide  to  Young  Disf-i- 
ples,  and  think  of  making  it  a  text-book. for  my  class. 
I  am  not  free  from  headaches.  Last  Sabbath  after- 
noon I  was  quite  useless.  Oh,  if  they  would  not 
corae  on  Sunday,  how  glad  I  should  be !  For,  when 
I  lave  them,  to  keep  awake  is  impossible,  and  I  just 
doze  ihtj  x;iiity  time  away."     At  another  time  sho 


MARY   LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  2l 

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  coun- 
try, 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  will 
occupy  my  mind,  for  I  have  a  good  deal  of  mere 
house-keeping  and  sewing,  and  of  dancing  ray  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.  1  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  ano- 
ther quarter ;  but  it  also  pleases  me  to  think,  that  it  is 
in  answer  to  your  prayers  for  me,  that  you  are  per- 
mitted to  write  in  a  way  that  does  me  good.  Is  it 
not  cheering  to  think,  that  while  our  plans  and  at- 
tempts to  glorify  God  in  winning  souls  so  often  fail, 
if  we  live  in  a  waiting  frame,  we  may  be  make  use- 
ful, when  we  have  not  especially  intended  it  ?  Words 
that  we  have  forgotten,  may  be  as  the  good  seed  that 
look  root,  and  have  eternal  consequences.  Ah,  how 
watchful  this  should  make  us  over  every  word !  Sur- 
rounded as  we  are  by  those  who  are  by  nature  lost, 
and  who,  if  saved  by  grace,  still  have,  like  us,  a  con- 
flict to  maintain  against  powerful  foes,  we  are  under 
unceasing  responsibility  to  seek  their  good.  If  we 
19 


218  MF.MOIR    OF 

forget  this,  some  incautious  word,  or  inconsistent  ac- 
tion may  cast  them  back,  and  we  may  incur  the  curse 
of  those  '  who  make  a  brother  to  offend.'  This  is 
our  collateral  responsibilty  ;  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  tune  ;  or  we  cannot  teach  others  to  sing  the 
melodies  of  heaven.  *  *  Oh  that,  pilgrim-like, 
I  were  ever,  staff  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  Chris- 
tian, 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,  I  could  tell  you  better  about  this  de- 
■ceitful  heart,  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 
jmust  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  V  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 
fihouid  be  more  holy,  if  such  and  such  were  the  case. 


MARY  LUNDIE  PUNCAN.  219 

Happiness  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  bless- 
ings I  have,  and  in  which  my  very  soul  is  bound  up, 
wore  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  encourage- 
ment, instead  of  resigning  all  into  the  hand  of  God, 
and  being  content  to  be  nothing,  and  let  whom  Ho 
wills  be  the  instrument,  so  his  work  be  done.  It 
would  be  delightful  to  feel  thus,  quite  renouncing 
self,  and  the  gratification  arising  from  a  belief  that 
we  have  been  useful,  and  yet  not  to  relax  our  ex- 
ertions. Will  you  tell  me  your  thoughts  on  this  sub- 
ject ?  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  indivi- 
dual 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 
conviction  that  no  ministry  can  be  eminently  useful, 
when  His  power  is  not  distinctly  owned,  dwelt  on, 
and  implored.  It  is  the  Spirit  that  quickeneth.  May 
His  power  be  shed  abroad  on  both  pastor  and  people 
here  and  with  you." 

The  year  cl"osed  upon  the  little  Christian  family 
settled  comfortably  in  the  manse,  and  encircled,  for 
one  week,  by  dear  brothers  and  cousins  from  the  uni- 
versities, with  whom,  as  usual,  private  spiritual  con 
verse  and  mutual  prayer  was  cidtivated  by  this  Chrio 
tian  sister  and  friend. 

To  a  dear  relative. 
"  It  grieves  me  to  hear  that  my  dear  aunt  is  yet  so 
little  restored  to  the  power  of  motion ;  my  hopes  had 
run  much  faster  than  the  reality,  and  I  am  greatly 


220  MEMOIR   OF 

disappointed.  I  do  trust  she  will  not  long  be  de 
tained  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  com- 
pany, and  return  to  converse  on  the  great  things  that 
have  been  showed  you  there.  Meantime,  may  Jesus, 
the  friend  of  the  afflicted,  overshadow  your  dwelling 
with  the  wings  of  His  love,  and  fdl  you  with  all  joy 
and  peace  in  believing.  When  He  speaks  to  the 
heart,  there  is  less  need  of  human  teachers.  Some- 
times He  removes  them  far  from  us,  to  teach  us  to 
draw  instruction  directly  from  himself. 

"  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  impossi- 
ble to  cut  the  pinions  of  time,  and  detain  the  enjoy- 
ment that  is  borne  away  on  the  flying  hour.  They 
will  tell  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  loch? 
lying  among  them,  wild  and  treeless.  The  view  of 
Kinross  and  Lochlevin  is  finest  from  thence,  and  we 
enjoyed  running  down  the  declivites  all  in  a  body. 
What  a  pity  that  we  are  so  soon  to  part !  Your  Christ- 
mas 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,  w 
shall  see  the  smile  again,  bright  wit)i  heavenly  jo) 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  221 

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  1  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  impossi- 
ble to  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 
her  view,  may  be  iitly  followed  by  a  fragment  of  poe- 
try which  adds  another  trait  to  the  delineation — his 
Sabbath-day  aspect  and  converse  : — 

\    FRAGMENT. 

'  Farewell,  ye  Sabbaths  of  my  early  years  ! 
Your  latest  conies  apace  and  soon  wiil  fly  ; 
But  your  blest  memory  my  spirit  cheers, 
And  still  shall  cheer,  till  my  departing  sigh. 
Sabbaths  of  Peace  !     How  iiappy  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  tha?iks-living  is  far  bel- 
ter?' 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 
19* 


222  KTEMOIR    OF 

put  ofT  the  old  man,  and  be  one  with  ITim,  than  I  have 
known  before.  In  my  own  franK^s  I  put  no  confi 
dence ;  many  times  they  have  deceived  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  laded  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  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  Christians  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  en- 
lightening 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  a  light  in  the 
hand  of  God  to  our  fellow-sinners,  pointing  out  the 
safety  and  blessedness  of  Zion's  pilgrims.  Oh,  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, 
Tliut  it  sh;ill  shine  full  bri^rht ; 
The  Lord  my  God  will  ;ilso  make 
My  darkness  to  bo  light." 

In  this  will  I  be  confident ;  and  when  I  find  my  light 


MARY    LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  2^ 

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  Ilirn,  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  the  time  is  short,  the  account 
soon  to  be  given  in  and  for  ever  made  up !  I  wish 
all  the  church  on  earth  had  their  gaze  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  inconsis- 
tencies. 

Next  Sunday,  baby's  maid  is  to  come,  for  the  first 
time,  to  the  table.  I  have  staid  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." 


224  MEMOIR   OF 


CHAPTER    XII. 


GROWTH    IN    LOVE. 


It  is  delightful  to  observe  Mary's  advancement  in 
Christian  love,  which  is  so  conspicuous  as  her  few 
years  rolled  away.  Love  is  "  of  all  the  graces  best." 
Humility  in  its  exercise  is  inevitably  connected  with 
mournful  convictions  of  unworthiness — even  Hope, 
that  day-star  of  the  soul,  is  not  satisfied  with  the  pres- 
ent, 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  immeasurable  ; — its  elasticity,  its  ex- 
pansive powers,  are  commensurate  with  the  objects 
of  attraction.  Even  in  an  evil  world,  and  with  a 
heart  fettered  by  remaining  corruption,  and  trammel- 
led by  its  case  of  clay,  its  capabilities  are  boundless  ; 
and,  instead  of  being  attenuated  by  expansion,  it  is 
consolidated,  and  becomes  capable  of  still  greater  and 
greater  efforts  of  usefulness,  of  self-denial,  of  tender 
and  watchful  observance.  Exercised  in  solitude, 
its  breath  is  prayer,  its  thoughts  are  sympathy,  its 
devices  are  usefulness. — Exercised  in  society,  its 
track  is  mercy,  its  eye-l>eam  is  benevolence,  its 
words  are  peace.^Exercised  towards  the  reconciled 
God  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Righteousness,  it  is  grat- 
itude, praise,  humble  adoration,  joyful  anticipation, 
peace, — eternal,  unconquerable  peace — begun  below, 
but  having  its  stronghold  far  above,  out  of  sight  of 
earth. 

"  The  love  that  leans  on  a  celestial  urn, 
Scatters  a  thousand  streams, — nor  seeks  return  j 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  225 

For  she  doth  draw  from  her  own  hidden  well, 
That  flows  for  ever, — and  would  flow  unseen, — 
But  that  the  freshening  flower  and  liveher  green 
Betray  her,  hastening  with  her  God  to  dwell." 

So  was  it.  She  was  "hastening  with  her  God  to 
dwell."  Many  expressions  in  the  diary  and  letters 
convey  the  idea  that  her  anticipations  of  an  early  re- 
moval from  this  scene  had  been  frequent  and  strong. 
Yet  it  does  not  appear  that  this  arose  from  any  con- 
scious infirmity ;  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,  0  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,  recalling  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 
-preachings'  with  comfort  and  profit.  Ah,  how  much 
too  seldom  that  sweet  ordinance  comes  in  our  coun- 
try !  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 


226  MEMOIU   OF 

was  so  true,  so  extensive,  so  minute,  so  intelligent, 
that  it  seems  a  thing  alone,  in  counting  up  "  wilder- 
ness mercies."  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  ;  antici- 
pated each  meeting  as  a  joy  almost  too  much  for 
earth,  and  never,  on  any  parting,  could  restrain  her 
tears.  The  sketch  of  that  faithful  heart  would  be 
incomplete,  without  a  glance  into  that  deep  well  of 
love.  In  reference  to  the  indisposition  of  a  mem- 
ber of  the  family,  she  writes  : — "  I  feel  concerned  at 
what  you  say  of  his  health ;  but,  my  dear  mamma, 
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 
mentioned  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  re- 
membered 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  be- 
yond what  I  have  dared  to  hope,  to  see  you  so 
soon,  again.  If  you  can  come,  do  write  soon, 
and  give  me  the  happiness  of  knowing  it.  You 
will  now,  I  hope,  come  and  see  your  longing  chil- 
dren. 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 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  227 

church,  I  read  a  sermon  of  J.  B.  Patterson's  on  the 
subject.  I  trust  you  were  refreshed  and  strength- 
ened to  go  on  your  way  rejoicing,  looking  for  and 
hasting  to  the  blessed  time  when  there  shall  bo  no 
more  sickness  of  heart,  but  abounding  peace  in  the 
presence  of  Him  who  has  redeemed  us.  Oh! 
that  this  delightful  hope  had  more  effect  on  our 
daily  life,  making  us  seek  more  close  and  freciuent 
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  ar- 
dently, and  are  divided  from  what  they  love.  The 
following  extract  from  a  letter,  written  after 
parting  from  her  new-year's  party  of  youthful  rel- 
atives 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  Wed- 
nesday, and  though  I  have  survived  the  depart- 
ure 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  many  things  were 
left  undone  :  it  is  difficult  to  apportion  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 


S28  MEMOIR    OF 

happy,  and  this  is  perhaps  more  felt  in  a  solitary 
place  than  it  might  be  elsewhere.  I  want  to  express 
nay  joy  that  the  painful  part  of  your  dear  sister's  af- 
fair is  over,  and  the  fitippi/  lime  is  come.  She  will 
be  astonished  at  the  degree  of  her  own  happiness,  I 
believe,  when  her  little  7icw  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  feh  completely  in  the 
hands  of  God,  and  saw  his  wisdom  and  love  in  events 
from  which  I  should  have  otherwise  have  shrunk.  It 
was  a  very  happy  state,  and  the  new  fountain 
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  so  many 
holiday  exercises,  that  it  was  scarcely  holiday  at  all 
for  him,  poor  fellow  !  He  is  a  most  dear  and  affec- 
tionate brother,  and  so  considerate  and  loving,  that 
he  really  is  not  like  any  other  youth  I  ever  knew. 
To  be  sure  1  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  ho 
should  not  take  well  with  the  bachelor-hall  they 
keep  in  Glasgow  after  this.  He  is  very  much  in  ear- 
nest about  divine  things.  Oh !  how  1  wish  it  were 
possible  for  me  to  be  near  him,  and  of  any  comfort 
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. 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  229 

We  had  a  little  very  pleasant  conversation  on  eternal 
things,  and  on  Sunday  I  read  him  great  part  of 
Phillip'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  ap- 
peared, as  the  present  chapter  is  devoted  to  exhibit 
the  expansion  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 
visiters  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  mean- 
ings there.  I  hope  I  shall  learn  a  salutary  lesson 
from  this  book.  It  is  a  great  help  to  me  in  instruc- 
ting my  class." 

Of  an  aged  woman  she  writes  to  her  friend  near 
London  : — "  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 
evening  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 
20 


230  MEMOIR    OF 

but  short  time  to  stay ;  and  oh !  how  awful  will  be 
her  account,  if  the  earnest  entreaties  and  lovely  ex- 
ample 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.  Wo  is  me 
for  the  little  ones !  Another  Kcltie  man  has  it,  and 
yesterday  one  of  my  girls  was  absent  from  class 
because  her  mother  has  been  seized.  Oh  I  that  the 
voice  of  the  Lord  might  be  heard  in  the  awakening 
of  dead  souls  by  this  visitation." 

"  Clcisk,  Sept. — We  have  still  a  number  of  cases 
of  typhus  fever  at  Keltic,  principally  among  children. 
It  has  lingered  long  among  us.  Oh !  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  retarded  by  rain  and  cold,  has  come  at  last  under 
such  bright  auspices.  We  long  to  sec  them  giving 
heartfelt  thanks  for  this  blessing ;  and  while  they 
throng  the  fields  with  busy  cheerful  looks,  wo  say, 
'  Oh  !  that  men  would  praise  the  Lord  for  his  good- 
ness.' lie  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? 
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  ran- 
somed. Shall  we  unite  to  pray  that  such  may  be 
strengthened  and  enabled  to  take  the  field  as  good  sol- 
diers of  Christ,  that  so  the  church  may  be  strength- 
ened, and  the  number  of  those  increased  who  are 
earnest  and  courageous  in  their  endeavours  to  aug- 
ment the  number  of  her  sons." 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  231 

At  the  time  of  the  summer  communion  this  year, 
when  her  health  was  in  so  delicate  a  state  from  her 
peculiar  situation,  that  her  own  attendance  on  the  ser- 
vices must  have  exerted  all  her  powers,  she  writes  : — 
"  We  had  a  comfortable  time  at  the  communion.  I 
liked  Mr.  M.,  who  preached  on  '  His  commandments 
are  not  grievous,'  drawing  a  beautiful  contrast  between 
fear  and  love,  and  the  kinds  of  obedience  they  pro- 
duce. 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  she  was  no  stranger.  The  "  rejoicing  and 
weeping  sympathies"  were  with  her  as  an  ever-flowing 
fountain.  It  were  unwise  to  number  minutely  the  as- 
sociates in  whose  society  she  was  refreshed  in  her 
own  neighbourhood.  But  of  all  their  kindness  she 
had  a  sweet  and  grateful  sense  ;  and  in  all  their  in- 
tercourse, felt  herself  the  party  obliged  and  benefited. 
But,  as  her  pilgrim  heart  was  ever  turned  towards  her 
heavenly  home,  it  was  the  one  or  two  whose  visits 
were  taken  advantage  of,  to  unite  in  seeking  the  foot- 
stool of  mercy,  whose  society  was  prized,  and  whose 
return  was  coveted  most  earnestly.  We  shall  give 
scanty  extracts  from  letters  to  friends  in  various  posi- 
tions, which  exemplify  the  fullness  of  her  love,  and 
tlie  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 


232  MEMOIR   OP 

sacrifice.  I  know  your  bitter  feelings,  love,  in  sepa 
rating  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  be- 
loved 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  correctness  of  one  who  has  felt 
the  like  trial  in  all  its  heaviness,  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  their  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  of  parting  with  the  place  you  love  is  all  you 
are  called  to  feel.  IIow  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  on 
earth,  sometimes  delay  our  heavenward  flight,  and 
then  in  mercy  they  are  destroyed,  that  we  may  fix  our 
eyes  there  and  exert  every  power  to  win  the  desired 
country." 

To  lier  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  tha* 
humble  bird,  the  carrier-pigeon,  I  sliould  be  with  you 
in  an  hour  or  two,  and  yet  all  my  thoughts,  and  rccol- 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  233 

lections,  and  aflections — ^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  Mel- 
ville'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 
eflfervescence,  by  committing  to  memory,  while  I  sew- 
ed, a  long  passage  from  my  favourite  Keble.  Are  you 
really  coming  to  us  at  last,  my  own  dear  friend  1  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  matrimo- 
nial engagement,  she  wrote  with  the  livdy  sympathy 
and  the  meekness  of  wisdom,  which  experience  had 
taught : — 

"  Often,  my  M.,  I  think  of  you,  and  of  your  happi- 
ness. Perhaps  few  periods  of  your  life  will  be 
20* 


234  MEMOrR    OF 

brightor  than  the  present.  You  are  still  with  your 
dear  j)arciit,  from  whom,  even  in  the  midst  of  joy,  it 
will  be  sorrow  to  part ;  and  you  have  the  devoted  affec- 
tion of  one  who  promises  to  watch  over  your  future 
years,  and  to  be  the  friend,  to  whom,  of  all  on  earth, 
vou  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  delightful.  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  sliould  be  too  much  bound  to  a  world 
that  is  but  a  pilgrimage,  and  forget  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  the  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  en- 
grossed, 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  stead- 
fast purpose,  without  admitting  any  of  the  numerous 
excuses  that  so  obligingly  ofler  tliemselves  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  1  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  "  sprink- 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  235 

ling  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  mor- 
tality is  swallowed  up  of  life,  and  those  who  have 
stayed  up  each  other's  footsteps  in  the  wilderness 
shall  rejoice  together,  clothed  in  everlasting  strength 
in  the  new  Jerusalem.  Happy  place  !  Happy  pe- 
riod !  There  shall  be  no  more  coldness,  no  more 
looking  back  to  Sodom,  and  longing  for  its  deceitful 
pleasures,  but  all  the  powers  of  the  soul,  concentrated 
in  intensest  love  to  Him,  of  whose  glory  and  excel- 
lence we  shall  find  that  "  the  half  hath  not  been 
told  us."  Does  not  every  thing  seem  tinged  with 
redeeming  love,  when  we  think  of  these  things  ? 
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, 


236  MEMdlR    OF 

but  a  most  essential  lesson,  that  man  can  do  nothing—^ 
God  all." 

To  the  same. 
''Cleish,  Aug.\B2S.—  •  •  •  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  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  nur- 
sery to  take  her,  fearful  that  her  attendant  is  misman- 
aging 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 
housekeejiing  retjuires  a  good  deal  of  thought  in  the 
country,  far  from  slioj)s,  and  with  out-door  concerns 
as  well  as  those  within.  All  this  may  show  you  how 
much  I  require  your  prayers.  Oh  !  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  teach- 
ing us  by  the — in  this  respect — almost  solitary  situa- 
tion in  which  we  are  placed,  to  say,  '  All  my  springs 
are  in  Thee.''  My  nature  is  to  lean  too  nmch  to 
earthly  aid,  counsel,  and  teaching,  and  of  this  I  see  I 
must  be  broken  ;  and,  oh  !  that  I  could  feel  how  much 
*weeter  it  is  to  be  taught  by  my  Father  in  heaven. 


MARY  tUNDlE  DUNCAN.  237 

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  im- 
agined how  very  joyful  the  sight  would  be.  Oh!  to 
be  enabled  to  train  up  this  treasured  one  for  God,  to 
see  her  walking  in  the  safe  and  pleasant  way  to  Zion, 
and,  from  infancy,  a  Iamb  resting  in  her  Shepherd's 
arms.  Do  give  this  dear  one  a  frequent  place  in  your 
prayers." 

The  above  reference  to  house  keeping  cares,  and 
their  disturbing  effect  on  her  higher  pursuits,  brings 
to  mind  the  unllinching  assiduity  with  which  she  pur- 
sued her  domestic  arrangements,  never  excusing  her- 
self 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  managing  ;  they  are  in  their  element  when 
the  gardener,  and  the  ploughman,  and  the  cook,  and 
the  housemaid,  are  all  waiting  their  instructions.  It 
required  but  to  see  Mary,  and  hear  her  gentle  melo- 
dious tones,  to  be  aware  that  this  element  was  not 
hers.  Mental  cultivation,  the  muse,  converse  with 
the  intelligent,  works  of  taste,  and  acte  of  benevo- 
lence,— these  were  her  elements.  But  while  all  saw 
her  apply  herself  strenuously  to  the  occupations  that 
she  loved  not,  no  one  ever  heard  her  complain,  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. 
Rut  one  example  exists,  which  bears  so  nuich  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  irrita- 
bility.    Some  token  of  this  state  of  things, — so  slight 


238  MEMOIR   OF 

that  itself  and  tlie  rebuke  it  produced  had  both 
passed  from  tue  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,  1  hope;,  is  doing  me  good.  I  did 
not  answer,  but  it  sunk  deep,  and  has  showed  me  to 
myself  in  some  degree.  1  desire  to  watch  against  it, 
and  to  cultivate  a  mock  and  quiet  spirit ;  and  oh ! 
when  it  overtakes  me,  may  it  humble  me,  and  lead 
me  to  prayer.  My  error  has  been  too  great  confi- 
dence in  the  equality  of  my  temper  :  and,  tliercfore, 
being  off  the  watch-tower,  it  is  not  wonderful  that  I 
have  been  surprised.  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  affec- 
tion, and  whose  Christian  fellowship  and  prayers 
quickened  hoj  devotion,  and  cheered  her  confidence, 
forms  a  conclusive  evidence  of  the  grow'th  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  arousing  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 


MARY   LUNDre    DUNCAN.  239 

I  thank  the  Giver  of  all  good.  I  long  to  profit  by  it? 
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  pres- 
ence above. 

"  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  de- 
pendence 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  du- 
ties, all  other  things  droop  and  languish,  and  the  tares 
■Spring  up  thick  and  fast,  where  the  heavenly  hus- 
bandman had  planted  wheat.  There  I  seem  to  have 
fewer  wants,  and  less  to  ask  for.  The  world  looks 
larger  and  more  important,  and  the  bright  light  that 
cheered  Pilgrim  at  the  end  of  the  narrow  way,  grows 
pale  and  dim.  *  *  j  sometimes  long  for  a 
little  of  the  intercourse  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  circum- 
stances ;  such  excuses  do  not  stand  before  one  sea- 
son of  self-examination,  much  less  will  they  be 
availing  at  the  awful  bar,  where,  under  the  all-search- 
ing 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  kuows  it  all.  Daily  remember  me 
when  you  enter  into  rjour  closet,  my  beloved  one,  and 
qucken  me  to  dwell  more  in  mine  by  telling  me  of 
the  happiness  j'ou  are  sometimes  permitted  to  enjoy, 
and  of  your  struggles  to  obtain  it  when  it  is  with- 
drawn. I  know  a  time  of  quietness  mu.st  come  ere 
long,  when  I  shall  be  unable  to  engage  in  active  du- 
ties, and  when,  if  my  dear  mamma  can  come  to  me,  I 


240  MEMOIR   OF 

shall  be  relieved  from  anxiety — and  I  trust  this  may 
be  a  time  of  love,  and  that  my  soul  may  be  strength- 
ened thereby,  and  greatly  drawn  to  my  Saviour ;  but 
I  long  to  be  nearer  Him  now,  to  make  His  law  my 
delight,  and  to  listen  for  the  whispers  of  His  voice. 
Oh  !  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 
sufficiency  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  per- 
ish. Oh  !  is  it  not  cheering,  when  every  other  en- 
joyment is  low,  and  faith  is  weak  and  trembling,  to 
return  to  this,  and  to  resolve  that  let  the  waves  arise 
to  their  utmost  height,  still  we  will  cling  to  Jesus, 
and  while  we  are  all  worthless  and  unclean,  present 
Him  his  own  spotless  righteousness  as  our  plea  of 
approach,  and  thus  He  cannot,  and  will  not  reject  us. 
There  is  no  such  friend  as  Jesus.  The  more  worth- 
less 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  infirmities  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  deceitful  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  ?' 
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 
♦"aint  glimpses  of  our  Saviour's  beauty  for  His  imrae 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  241 

diate  presence,  without  one  shade  of  sin  to  hide  Him 
from  us. 

"  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.'" 


21 


242  MEMOIR   OF 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE    MUSE    RECALLED A    SON    GIVEN TWO    BRO- 
THERS    WITHDRAWN. 

The  poetical  efTorts,  which  in  early  youth  were 
numerous,  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  substan- 
tial acquirements.  It  was  not  till  her  country  resi- 
dence left  a  little  leisure,  which  in  other  circumstan- 
ces might  have  been  etdivened  by  society,  that  she 
seemed  again  to  replace  the  chords  of  her  lyre,  and 
to  touch  them  frequently  in  varied  tones.  We  can- 
not fail  to  remark,  that,  however  she  delighted  in  in- 
viting her  friends  to  ascend  Benarty,  and  however 
zealously  she  toiled  to  the  rugged  summit  of  Dum- 
glow, — however  she  rejoiced,  from  these  airy  heights, 
to  explore  the  Grampians  on  the  horizon  line,  or  the 
lofty  Lomonds,  with  the  placid  Loch  Leven  sleeping 
at  their  feet,  with  its  isle  and  its  ruin,  fraught  with  re- 
collections of  the  unhappy  Mary  Stuart, — and  how- 
ever much  she  was  familiarized  to  those  scenes 
which  had  become  associated  with  many  of  her 
heart's  best  sentiments, — yet  if  the  muse  was  to  be 
called,  if  the  soirir  of  poetry  was  to  be  evoked,  it 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  243 

was  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,  we  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  murmured  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  straiu 
Revisit  Judah's  mourning  plain, 

And  Jordan's  sacred  wave  ; 
The  stately  hills,  with  cedar  crowned. 
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. 
Or  cloud  obscures  the  holy  light 

That  fills  the  land  above. 


244  MEMOIR    OF 

Visit  the  fields  where  David  strayed, 
Leading  his  flock  in  pahny  shade, 

And  hymning  praise  on  higli ; 
And  learn  in  anthems  clear  to  sing, 
That  nobler,  meeker  Shepherd  King, 

Who  for  his  sheep  could  die. 

M.  L.  D." 

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.  "  Yester- 
day that  child  was  nothing ;  but  when  will  it  cease 
to  be  ?  Never  !  Immortality  is  Avrittcn  upon  it,  and 
the  inscription  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  incipi- 
ent 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."  His- 
tory will  continue  its  annals,  matter  its  combinations, 
the  heavens  their  course ;  but  he  shall  survive  them 
all !  !"* 

With  such  thoughts  of  the  birth  of  an  immortal 
being,  she  besought  the  aid  of  supplication  for  her  in- 
creasing 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  pil- 
grimage. 

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  ond  hour's 
converse  with  you,  ere  my  hour  of  trial  comes.  I 
feel  as  if  it  would  tend  to  strengthen  my  faith  and 
courage,  and  be  unspeakably  refreshing.  But  you 
«  Rev.  R.  Watson. 


MAUY  LUNIME  DUNCAN.  245 

w^ould  refer  me  to  the  only  quarter,  '  whence  cometh 
my  help,'  and  tell  me  to  give  greater  diligence  to  seek 
it  there.  1  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  un- 
fathomable and  unwearied,  and  which  will  support  to 
the  uttermost  those  who  are  stayed  on  it.  1  wish  I 
could  realize  it  more  ;  keenly  alive,  as  we  are,  to  the 
affection  of  friends,  to  a  look  or  word  of  kindness,  or 
to  one  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 
time  of  suffering  them,  view  them  in  connexion  with 
that  love,  ever  strengthening  our  minds  by  the  remem- 
brance of  Him  who  endured  all  kinds  of  trials  in  their 
heaviest  forms,  because  he  loved  us  1  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  supplications  for  all  of  us. 
that  we  may  be  thoroughly  washed,  and  made  meet 
for  the  land  where  all  is  purity,  and  nothing  that  is 
unholy  can  enter  ?  Now,  dearest  F.,  farewell.  Whe- 
ther life  or  death  be  appointed,  may  we  soon  mee* 
where  there  is  no  parting,  and  no  sin  .'" 

Diary. — "Dec.  1838. — I  have  the  near  prospect 
21* 


246  MEMOIR    OF 

jf  being  mother  of  a  second  babe.  I  pray  for  giace 
to  bear  my  trial  as  a  child  of  God,  in  patience  and 
willingness  to  suffer  according  to  his  will.  I  was  re- 
bellious 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  en- 
courage 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  affec- 
tions, with  worldly  cares,  or  with  the  too  engross- 
ing pleasures  of  imagination,  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  wil- 
lingly work  in  me  the  same  fair  fruits  that  have 
adorned  his  most  favoured  children.  Shall  he  have 
to  say  to  me,  '  and  thou  wouldst  not  V  Beloved  Sa- 
viour, 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,  I 
shall  love  thee  as  I  ought,  and  rejoice,  being  sa- 
tisfed  with  thy  likeness.  Till  then,  oh !  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  re- 
corded 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. 


MARY   LUNDIE    DXJNCAN.  247 

And  the  little  book  ;  the  sacredly  hoarded  diary  ?  it 
is  vain  to  search  its  remaining  unstained  leaves ;  not 
a  comma  is  added. 

Her  son  was  born  on  the  7th  January,  1839;  a 
day  memorable  for  extensive  storms,  which,  in  one 
circle  of  their  desolating  course,  assumed  the  cha- 
racter of  a  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  exciting  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,  during  the  war 
of  1754,  burned,  when  several  members  of  the  family 
were  slain  ;  but  one  girl,  "  Regina,"  was  carried  cap- 
tive, and  dwelt,  for  ten  long  years,  in  bondage  with  a 
tribe  of  Indians  ;  she  preserved  in  memory,  tha  while, 
the  text  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,  unable  to  discover  her 
own ;  at  length  she  raised  the  hymn  which  she  used 
to  sing  to  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  stan- 
zas.    They  were  dictated  to,  and  written  by,  her  sis- 


248  MEMom  OF 

ter,  by  the  side  of  her  couch,  in  number  sometimeB  of 
five  or  six  at  once. 

"  There  are  many  voices  on  the  pale, 
There  are  wild  strange  forms  in  the  peopled  vale  ; 
They  arc  captives  from  Indian  bondage  led, 
Whom  friends  have  forgot  or  mourned  as  dead  ; 
And  a  tlirong.  with  their  hopes  to  frenzy  tossed, 
Have  come  to  search  for  their  loved  and  lost. 
Ah  I  many  a  heart  that  beat  high  that  morn, 
From  the  search  at  nigiit  nmst  slirink  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  check  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  feared  it  dead, 
But  the  Lord  of  the  har\'est  His  sunshine  shed, 
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.  M.  L.  D. " 

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  hea- 
venly Father  to  place  her  during  the  winter  months 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  249 

It  is  the  more  important  to  exhibit  this,  because  her 
constitution  never  overcame  the  shock  it  then  re- 
ceived, and  because  her  expectation  of  temporal 
rest,  thougli  never  lively,  was  so  much  weakened, 
that  her  pilgrim  staff  was  assumed  with  a  more  re- 
solute hand,  and  she  addressed  herself  more  deter- 
minedly to  the  simple  performance  of  duty,  feeling 
all  things  vain  that  had  no  spiritual  bearing,  and 
"  looking  for,  and  hastening  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  sweety 
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 

enjoyment,  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  ail  my  life 
through ! 

"  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, 


250  MEMOIR    OF 

nor,  indeed,  do  I  feel  by  iiny  means  strong  yet.  I 
had  some  pleasant  hours  when  on  the  bed  of  sick- 
ness ;  many  sweet  promises  were  brought  to  my  mind, 
and  I  felt  the  richness  and  complete  elhcacy  of  the 
divine  w-ord,  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  weak- 
ness to  remember  Ilim  whose  sufferings  purchased 
all  our  blessings.  I  passed  some  weary  nights  of  fe- 
verish tossings,  but  sought  to  follow  the  example  of 
the  sweet  singer  of  Israel,  and  meditate  on  my  Sa- 
viour 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  at  ne- 
cessary remedies,  which  was  painful  to  every  one, 
and  as  much  as  my  nerves  could  well  endure.  She 
was  very  feverish,  &ic.     *         * 

"  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  w'orse,  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,  un- 
less you  are  some  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  my  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  1  have  had 
my  hands  and  heart  full  this  winter.  My  sister  was 
\uiexpectedly  called  fromjne,  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 


MARY    LTJNDIE    DUNCAN.  251 

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  de- 
lightful. Oh,  may  it  be  blessed  to  his  restoration! 
Oh,  it  is  sad  to  part  with  two  dear  brothers,  to  the 
distance  of  half  the  globe,  and  one  of  them  an  invalid! 
The  God  of  their  fathers  will  be  their  guide.  G. 
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." 

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 
subduing  discipline  from  the  hand  of  her  heavenly 
Father.  It  was  to  her  tender  spirit  a  heavy  aggra- 
vation 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  hopes 
she  derived  resignation,  is  the  only  one  we  can 
quote. 

"  I  remember  the  happy  days  of  childhood, — gone 
for  ever, — when  we  were  all  united,  as  we  likely  ne- 
ver shall  again  be  in  this  world.  But  this  thought 
makes  heaven  look  lovelier, 

"  When  I  arrive  on  yonder  shoi-e, 
There  shall  be  cahn  enough  for  me." 

"These  lines  are  seldom  out  of  my  mind;  and,  I 
trust,  every  one  belonging  to  us  will  be  gatheriMl  where 
there  is  no  parting,  but  perfect  union  of  spirit  in  the 
praise  of  Jesus." 

Longing  that  each  might  derive  profit  from  the  dis- 
pensatioti,  and  willing  to  gather  the  fragments  of  con- 
solation, she  addressed  her  third  brother  . — •'  I  ot'en 


252  MEMOIR    OF 

think  of  you  now,  deprived  of  both  our  deai  bro- 
thers, 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  lime,  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  passeth  all  un- 
derstanding, 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." 

Among  George's  papers  left  behind  is  one  letter 
from  his  sister. 

"  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  joyfully  shall  we  look  on  the  separation  that 
grieves  us  now.  I  am  much  distressed  that  your  na- 
tive 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  with  M— /3m  de  Guion : — 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  253 

"  I  can  be  calm  and  free  from  care 
On  any  shore,  since  God  is  there." 

"  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  him- 
self 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 
may  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,  walk- 
ing in  His  light,  and  resting  under  His  shadow.  He 
is  weakening  your  strength  in  the  way,  my  dear  bro- 
ther, that  you  may  lean,  more  undividedly,  on  Hira 
who  is  strong  to  save.  He  is  changing  the  plan  we 
all  loved  to  think  of,  that  of  your  soon  being  a  mes- 
senger of  glad  tidings,  a  shepherd  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  ten- 
der 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  fol- 
low your  labours,  if,  in  after  years,  you  are  permitted 
to  feed  the  flock  !  But  I  must  check  the  utterance  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  our  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 
22 


254  MEMOIK   OF 

of  them.  I  should  have  felt  it  a  happiness  to  con- 
tribute 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  tvil- 
ling  to  submit  to  this  !  Dear  J.  will  be  with  you,  and 
do  for  you  all  that  a  kind  sister  could  ;  but  do  not  for- 
get that  you  have  another  sister,  whose  heart  is  with 
you ;  and  do  not  forget  to  pray  for  me.  Oh,  I  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  chil- 
dren whom  Jesus  blesses.  Henry  Robert  was  de- 
voted 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  who  go,  and  those 
who  stay.  May  they  promote  the  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  !" 

We    here   introduce    her    valedictory   poem,   ad- 
dressed— 

•  To  my  beloved  Brother,  George  Archibald  Lundie. 

Cleish,  ApriL 

Since  o'er  the  wave  thy  Father's  mandate  calls  thee„ 
And  bids  thee  seelt  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  prilgrim  way, 

And  shine  in  warning  love  when  thou  would'st  stray. 

Tnisting,  we  yield  thee  to  the  m  ghty  ocean, 

For  "  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand  "  it  lies. 
And  on  its  bosom  vast,  with  meek  devotion, 

Thou'lt  look  from  its  calm  waves  to  calmer  skies, 
And  bless  the  love  that  reig:is  through  every  clime, — 
The  Gw'  who  fi""  'ho  universe  sublime  .' 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  255 

When  Albion's  shores,  from  thy  strained  gaze  recoding. 

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  ! 

Shouldst  thou  in  spirit  to  tliy  home  returning 

Behold  the  lessened  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  vale  of  darkness  rending, 
His  morning  splendour  o'er  creation  darts, 

May  Gospel  beams  diffuse  resplendent  day, 

To  guide  the  hapless  flock  that  darkling  stray ! 

How  beautiful,  on  earth's  dark  hills  appearing. 

Day's  harbinger,  the  messenger  of  peace  : 
How  sweet  his  earnest  voice,  the  wanderer  cheering. 

That  tells  of  mom  arising,  ne'er  to  cease  I 
Bear  thou  those  tidings  o'er  the  heaving  main. 
And  turned  to  songs  shall  be  our  parting  pain ! 

M.  L.  D» 


256  MEMOIR    OF 

A  year  after,  in  the  same  month,  when  the  ban- 
ished pilgrim  was  ploughing  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  soli- 
,ary  contemplations,  the  subjects  of  converse  long 
since  passed. 

"  What  profession,  or  what  employment,  on  earth, 
jan  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.  J  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  were  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  thou- 
sands of  the  South  Pacific  Islands,  fills  the  realm, 
which  is  now  her  home,  with  joy.  Shall  we  not  join 
them  in  our  feeble  measure,  and,  bowing  to  His  holv 
will,  say,  —blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord  ! 


MA&Y  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  257 


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 
increased  as  well  as  her  headaches,  gleanings  appear 
in  her  letters  of  that  which  interested  her.  For  ex- 
ample : — 

"  John  I ,  of  whose  illness  you  heard  when 

here,  appears  dying  fast,  and  gives  brightening  evi- 
dence of  preparation  for  his  change.  He  says  the 
Saviour  has  been  '  a  sweet  Christ  to  him.'  He  can- 
not 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  Horae  Solitariae  on  the  ti- 
tles 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  dancin" 
Mary  round  the  nursery,  or  speaking  to  Harry,  to  gain 
a  sweet  smile  from  him.  I  have  a  good  deal  of  my 
husband's  company  just  now,  and  pleasant  evening 


258  MEMOIR   OF 

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  woidd  fain  use  it  to  some  purpose,  remembering 
that  eternity  will  soon  wind  up  all  that  I  am  now  en- 
gaged in." 

The  poem  entitled  the  Return  of  Israel  was  written 
in  the  spring.  To  account  for  the  repeated  allusions 
to  the  Canticles  which  it  contains,  it  may  be  right  to 
say,  that,  during  hor  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  ga- 
thering of  the  family  in  Edinburgh,  on  the  occasion 
of  Dr.  Duncan's  presiding  as  Moderator  of  the  Ge- 
neral Assembly  ;  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  conti- 
nually. Restless  nights  with  her  babe,  anxious  days 
because  of  a  nurse  that  she  could  not  confide  in,  an 
aflectionate  longing  to  enjoy  the  society  of  her 
friends,  hungering  to  embrace  every  spiritual  oppor- 
tunity 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 
swee*.  converse  were  enjoyed, — and  it  was  delightful 
to  watch  her  beaming  intelligence  when  listening  to 
Dr.  Chalmer's,  or  Dr.  Dufl^,  or  to  Mr.  Bickersteth,  as 
he  pleaded  for  Israel, — yet  the  abiding  thought,  after 
the  hasty  days  had  past,  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  repeat 
edly  the  account  given  by  friends  of  their  visits,  in 
•  See  Appendix,  No.  1. 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  259 

cliuled  the  description  of  an  evening  passed  on  the 
sofa  by  her,  quite  unable  to  lift  her  head.  What  vi- 
gour 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  children.  Instead  of  wishing  he  had  them 
to  soothe  his  loneliness,  he  esteems  it  a  special  bless- 
ing 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  won- 
ders wrousiht  by  the  religion  of  Jesus :  and  when  1 
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 
trainmg  in  the  school  of  affliction,  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  eflect  of  a  belief  in  the  personal  reign 
of  Christ  to  stop  missionary  exertions  ;  but  that  arises 
from  carrying  it  too  far,  ^n^  fixing  the  time  for  which 
there  is  no  warrant  in  Scripture.  It  should  excite  to 
greater  exertion,  that  the  nations  may  be  waiting  to 
receive  him.  I  feel  much  interested  in  the  subject, 
yet  almost  fear  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  tempo- 
rary weakness  may  be  the  means  of  lasting  good, 


260  MEMOIR    OF 

raising  you  to  look  beyond  life,  bright  with  the  hues 
of  youth,  to  the  better  land,  where  alone  hope  is  real- 
ized, and  joy  perfected.  I  often  wish  for  you,  dear, 
and  feel  that,  however  kind  others  may  be,  7ny  sister 
is  wanting.  Where  are  our  dear  wanderers  now  ? 
perhaps  enjoying  the  beauty  of  a  southern  shore, 
lifter  their  sojourn  on  the  water.  Farewell,  dear- 
tst  :  let  us  help  each  other  to  pray  for  them  ;  and 
l)ray  for  me,  that  the  cares  of  the  world  and  other 
things  may  not  choke  the  word  and  make  me  un- 
fruitful." 

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  ami  questions  of  her  little  girl.* 

As  we  approach  the  last  of  her  letters  to  various 
correspondents,  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  usefulness,  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 
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  circum- 
stanced, taken  to  a  place  of  perfect  solitude,  in  a  wet 
and  gloomy  season,  while  my  husband  was  so  much 
occupied  by  unavoidable  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 
*  See  Appendix,  No.  II. 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  261 

had  shone  out  the  more  as  the  time  of  parting  ap- 
proached. But  I  must  not  dwell  on  tlic  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  chil- 
dren, if  I  lived  in  the  wilds,  I  should  not  feel  it  soli- 
tary. *  *  What  an  advantage  the  Christian  has 
over  others !  While  they  form  plans  in  their  own 
wisdom,  and  are  bitterly  disapppointed  if  they  fail, 
he  is  resting  on  his  Father,  and  saying,  '  if  the  Lord 
will,^  in  all  that  he  proposes  :  and  when  his  hopes  are 
frustrated,  still  '  it  is  the  Lord's  will,^  that  makes  him 
meekly  submit.  You  dearest,  know  this  refuge,  and, 
in  the  midst  of  new  prospects  and  new  responsibili- 
ties, you  will  find  it  a  sweet  and  sufficient  one.  You 
must  not  be  over  anxious  as  those  who  are  orphans 
hy  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  situ- 
ation in  which  you  are  placed  will  open  to  you  fresh 
and  brightened  views  of  that  love.       *  *       We 

have  the  prospect  of  a  quiet  winter,  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.*  Her  plan  for  keeping  the  Sabbath  day  holy, 
and  yet  making  it  delightful,  associating  habits  of  re- 
straint with  animating  and  interesting  occupations, 
reveals  what  would  have  been  her  object  had  the 
term  of  life  been  prolonged.  As  the  event  is  or- 
dered. He  who  accepted  the  purpose  of  his  servant 
David  to  build  him  an  house,  and  raised  up  a  succes- 
*  See  Appendix,  Nos.  III.  to  XI. 


262  MEMOIR   OF 

sor  to  fulfil  itis  design,  may,  in  condescending  com- 
passion, tak*^  tnose  dear  little  immortals,  and  lit  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  Decomes  us,  like  Aaron, 
to  hold  our  peace. 

The  last  days  of  September  were  passed  in  a 
Highland  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,  where  the  rising 
of  her  spirit  from  created  and  visible  excellence,  to 
the  divine  hand,  and  to  the  perfections  of  the  dwell- 
ing-place of  the  Creator,  and  her  own  hope  of  enter- 
ing there,  is  as  usual  the  theme.  This  journey,  in 
common  with  all  other  exertions,  terminating  in  a  se- 
vere headache.  She  mentioned  in  writing,  shortly 
after  this,  "  My  head  is  very  bad  sometimes,  but  my 
general  health  is  excellent." 

VERSES   WRITTEN    AT    CALLANDER,    SEPT.    30tH. 

"  How  pure  the  light  on  yonder  hills, 
How  soft  the  shadows  lie  ; 
How  biythe  eacii  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  region  of  the  blest 

Where  tends  our  pilgrim  way. 


MARY   LUNDIE    DUNCAN.  S63 

The  everlasting  mountaina,  there, 

ReHect  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  crowned, 

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  I  ye  pilgrim  throng, 

And  ever  as  ye  nm. 
Break  forth  in  strains  of  heavenly  song, 

Till  home  and  rest  are  won. 

Look  up  I  look  up  !  to  yonder  light, 

That  cheers  the  desert  grey  ; 
It  marks  the  close  of  toil  and  night. 

The  dawn  of  endless  day. 

How  sweet  your  choral  hymns  will  blend 

With  harps  of  heavenly  tone  ; 
When  glad  you  sing  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 
constitution  by  a  residence  in  the  country.  There  is 
reason  to  believe  that  this  visit  wfas  blessed  to  a 
higher  and  more  permanently  sanatory  effect,  llisn 


264  MEMOIR    OF 

Strength  of  a  physical  character ;  as  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  passed  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  things  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  remembered  as  characteristic. 
Her  industry  accomplished  what  furnished  matter  of 
amazement  to  many.  She  seemed,  as  a  friend  re- 
marked, "  to  do  so  much  of  every  thing  for  every 
body,"  at  the  same  time  looking  well  to  her  house- 
hold, 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  sutfering  head, 
which  allowed  itself  no  respite,  though  it  much  re- 
quired it. 

Several  poems  for  her  children  were  written  to- 
wards the  end  of  autunm.* 

In  the  end  of  October  she  attended  the  marriagi 
of  a  beloved  cousin  in  Edinburgh,  whom  she  "  had  al 
ways  regarded  as  a  dear  elder  sister."  Her  husband 
returned  home  witl^out  her,  as  she  designed  to  suffer 
a  (*.ouble  operation  from  a  dentist,  and  allow  herself 
*  See  Appendix,  Nos.  III.  to  XIV. 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN  265 

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  rea- 
son for  hastening  the  return  of  his  beloved  partner, 
and  she  was  hurried  home.  A  fortnight  after  she  de- 
scribes 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  fright- 
ened by  my  face.  Wallace  said  he  had  never  seen 
such  a  picture  of  wo  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  childreni 
in  the  Saviour's  bosom  !  That  when  they  are  taken 
home  they  are  taken  from  sin  and  sorrow  that  they 
have  never  known,  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  scat- 
tered all  over  the  globe — when  to  return  ?  Never 
mind  ;  there  is  a  meeting  place,  where  love  is  perma- 
nent, und  parting  unknown ;  and,  best  of  all,  where 
hearts  are  so  full  of  God,  that  his  presence  is  enough, 
to  make  their  happiness  perfect. 

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  pr  ople.     Prayer 

23 


266  MEMOIR    OF 

meetings  were  multiplied,  and  the  spirit  of  waiting 
on  the  Lord  was  given  ;  the  good  news  was  revealed 
to  many  souls ;  and  to  those  who  had  before  enjoyed  the 
same  blessing,  it  seemed  richer  and  more  precious. 
The  pastor  and  parish  of  Cleish  partook  of  this  gra- 
cious 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  the  universe. 
While  she  and  many  with  her  were  rejoicing  in  the 
glorious  things  that  were  doing  in  our  earthly  mount 
Zion,  He  who  holds  the  cords  of  life  was  quicken- 
ing her  spirit  for  that  holy  place, 

"  Where  hope,  the  sweet  singer  that  gladdened  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  sometimes,  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-for- 
gotten objects ;  and,  in  caring  for  these,  her  hours 
passed  away ;  now  and  then  weaving  a  ryhme,  and 
again  singing  forth  her  thanksgiving  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 
to  that  friend,  that  she  had  such  delight  in  her  chil- 
dren, 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  in- 
tervened between  this  grateful  acknowledgment  of  her 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  267 

happiness,  and  its  interruption,  when  the  same  faithful 
friend  was  summoned  by  her  own  Christian  love,  in 
company  with  another  attached  member  of  the  con- 
gregation, to  share  to  the  very  closing  moment,  the 
fatigues  and  griefs  of  her  last  sufferings. 

On  the  21st  of  November,  on  witnessing  the  glo- 
ries of  a  winter  evening  sky,  she  wrote  a  few  stan- 
zas, which  seem  left,  like  a  voice  of  monitory  conso- 
lation, 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 ; 
\iid  soft  and  still  the  wintry  air 

Breathes  o'er  the  grateful  heart 

Though  summer's  step  of  joy  is  fled, 

Her  voice  of  music  hushed, 
Her  shades  of  living  verdure  dead. 

Her  flowery  chaplets  crush'd  ; 
Sweet  nature  still  hath  power  to  bless, 

By  mercy's  hand  arrayed, 
Her  morn  in  fairy  loveliness. 

Her  eve  in  dove-like  shade. 

So,  when  the  days  of  joys  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  paia 

As  those  who  lose  their  all  ; 
Gather  the  fragments  that  remain, 

They'll  prove  nor  few  uor  small, 


268  MEMOIR   OF 

The  thankful  spirit  finds  relief, 

In  calm  submissive  love  ; 
Toils  hopeful  on,  amidst  his  grief, 

And  looks  for  joy  above." 

We  find,  bearing  the  date  November,  some  other 
poems  addressed  to  her  children.* 

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  in- 
truding on  you  in  the  time  of  sorrow,  I  cannot  rest 
satisfied  without  the  expression  of  my  true  and  heart- 
felt sympathy  with  you.  Three  days  since  the  no- 
tice 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  moth- 
er'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.  Oh  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 
"  whom  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  centered  in  Jesus, — if  heaven  ap- 
pears more  like  home,  and  earth  more  like  the  pilgrim- 
age it  is, — and  if  thus  your  steps  are  quickened  to- 
wards it,  shall  it  not  be  well  ?  We  never  feel  the  true 
meaning  and  value  of  our  Lord's  promises,  till  we  are 

*  Appendix,  Nos.  XV.  and  XVI. 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  269 

in  the  situation  to  which  they  are  especially  suited ; 
and  many  and  sweet  are  those  addressed  to  the  af- 
flicted. 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  : 
IViends  can  only  weep  with  you  ;  but  Jesus,  that  most 
sympathizing  of  all  friends,  has  power  to  comfort  too. 
He  has  early  taken  your  darling  from  an  evil 
world,  to  be,  I  trust,  with  himself  ybr  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  sym- 
pathy.    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. 

Mart  Lundie  Duncan." 

23* 


270  MEMOIR  or 


CHAPTER    XV. 

SPIRITUAL      REFRESHMENT     IN     DUNFERMLINE DILI- 
GENCE  IN   DUTY LAST    SABDATH    IN    GOD's    HOUSB 

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  pursued  with  more 
elasticity. 

The  news  that  a  meeting  was  to  be  held  in  Dun- 
fermline, under  the  direction  of  Mr.  W.  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  supplication,  and  in  hearing  the  word  of 
the  Lord.  Her  husband  having  a  professional  en- 
gagement elsewhere,  she  went  in  company  of  a  fe- 
male 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  faith  and  confidence 
fill  my  soul."  The  words  of  Mr.  Grey,  in  her  funeral 
sermon,  well  describe  this  bright  experience,  so  cIosa 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  271 

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  con- 
ducted 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  '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  consolations  that  are  in  Christ. 
Next  day,  visiting  a  lady's  charity  school,  she  spoke 
affectionately  to  a  little  group  of  girls  on  their  souls' 
concerns,  some  of  whom  were  much  impressed,  and 
were  noticed,  on  a  succeeding  night  engaged  in  ear- 
nest 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,  be- 
fore she  reached  home,  the  damp  cold  air  of  the  even- 
ing had  fallen.  This  confirmed  a  cold,  which  proba- 
bly originated  in  her  having  continued  till  a  very  late 
hour  in  her  chamber  that  night,  in  devotional  exer- 
cises, and  in  making  notes  of  what  she  had  heard  at 
church,  so  that  she  went  to  bed  excessively  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  re- 
freshed." 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  entreaties, 
:hat  they  would  make  sure  work  of  their  souls'  safety 
Sy  surrendering  them  now  to  Christ.  During  that 
week,  her  hands  were,  as  usual,  full  of  work,  ticket- 
mg  and  cataloguing  Sunday  school  library  books,  and 
making  a  list  of  those  which  had  not  been  returned, 


272  MEMom.  OF 

visiting  the  sick,  reading  to  the  aged,  and  teaching 
vhe  young.  A  domestic  remarked  that,  for  a  long 
time  before,  she  never  staid  a  few  minutes  in  the  nur- 
sery, without  mentioning  some  plan  for  the  benefit  of 
some  one.  Her  husband  observed  her  increased  ac- 
tivity, and  when  he  urged  her  to  delay  various  exer- 
tions 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  de- 
light 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.  Paterson,  whose 
Christian  exertions  in  Russia,  and  elsewhere,  have 
made  his  name  familiar  in  all  the  churches.  Her  ob- 
ject 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,  ex- 
pressed 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  purpose  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  Christ  in  sincerity, 
were  her  brethren  on  earth  ;  all  who  love  him  in  sin- 
cerity 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 


MARY   LtJNDIE   DUNCAN.  273 

Mission  to  the  family  of  Israel  having  been  pointed 
out  to  Mary,  she  at  once  entered  into  the  idea,  and  a 
oaraphrase  on  a  portion  of  Isaiah  was  the  result.* 

This  poem  was  sent,  with  the  promise  that  it  should 
36  succeeded  by  others. f 

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  subjects  be  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  rentier  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  trifling  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,  sa^s  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 
dreamed  of  a  higher  vision !  They  will  the  sooner 
be  able  to  endure  the  glories  of  the  world  to  come. 

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  nar- 
rator 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  king- 
dom." 

A  note  inviting  her  brother  to  pass  his  week  of 
»  Appendix,  No.  XVII.         t  Appendix,  No.  XVIII. 


274  MEMOIR   OF 

college  leisure  at  Cleish,  shows  how  little  she  sus- 
pected 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  Christmas  together.  I  have  a  bad  cold, 
but  the  joy  of  seeing  you  will  drive  it  away." 

"  On  Saturday,"  as  Mr.  Grey  continues  in  his  ser- 
mon, "  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  pleasure  in  the  service  of  the 
sanctuary,  and  shown  great  earnestness  in  the  instruc- 
tion of  her  interesting  pupils."  She  returned  chilled 
and  shivering,  and,  as  the  servants  observed,  "  bent 
almost  double,"  from  the  school ;  but  still  the  un- 
wearied spirit  led  her  to  lament  that  her  strength  was 
all  worked  up,  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 
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  be- 
yond 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  alarming  to  the  inexperkneed 
persons  around  her  at  first,  advanced  rapidly,  and,  a 
few  days  after,  deprived  her  of  the  power  of  com- 
manding her  thoughts,  inducing  convulsive  effort  and 
incoherent  expression.  In  the  earlier  part  of  her  ill- 
ness, 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 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN,  275 

great  sufferings,  she  replied,  '  quite  content ;'  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.'  &c. :  Rev.  vii.  14-17.  The  words  '  wonderful 
peace'  passed  her  lips,  as  if  expressing  her  own  expe- 
rience in  reference  to  the  sentiment.  On  another 
occasion,  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  testimonies  to  her  Saviour,  that  her 
dying  lips  were  permitted  to  utter.  At  one  time, 
turning  to  her  husband,  without  any  appearance  of 
wandering,  she  inquired,  '  Do  you  not  hear  that  beau- 
tiful music  V  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  com- 
atose state. 

"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,  '  I  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  recog- 
nized, 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,  btit  one  word,  from  her  child's 
lips,  declaring  what  her  hope  was.  At  this  time,  tha 
patient  had  sunk  into  a  state  of  stupor  rather  than  re 


276  MEMOIR   OF 

pose.  When  roused  out  of  it,  her  husband,  uncon- 
scious of  the  petition  which  had  been  spread  before 
the  mercy-seat,  put  the  question,  '  What  is  your 
hope  V  to  which  she  clearly  and  distinctly  answered, 
'the  cross.'  Brief  but  ample  testimony!  Reveal- 
ing 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, 
therefore,  this  one  had  been  unnecessary.  But  that 
it  was  answered  so  speedily  indicated  that  he  wha 
hung  upon  the  cross  was  nigh  to  us  in  this  hour  of  wo, 
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 
mother's  prayer,  and  confirmed  her  husband's  confi- 
dence, though  by  no  means  necessary  for  the  conso- 
lation of  either,  they  may  justify  us  in  conjoining  her 
with  the  interesting  group  of  the  same  name  who, 
with  the  beloved  John,  attended  the  Saviour  in  his 
dying  moments,  when  the  other  disciples  had  forsaken 
him  and  fled ;  for,  we  are  told,  '  there  stood  by  the 
cross  of  Jesus  his  mother  and  his  mother's  sister, 
Mary  the  wife  oi  Cleophas,  and  Mary  Magdalene.' 
And  as  these  stood  by  the  cross,  and  clung  to  the  Sa- 
viour, though  at  the  time  very  imperfectly  apprehend- 
ing the  nature  of  his  sulTerings — so  our  beloved  Mary 
clung  to  the  cross  as  her  hope,  however  imperfect  her 
apprehension  of  all  things  else." 

How  precious  were  the  isolated  words  that  dropt 
from  her  parched  and  indistinct  lips  !  When  all  our 
feeble  communions  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 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  277 

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  indig- 
nation 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  lit  to  withdraw 
his  terrors  !  Who  can  behold  a  beloved  member  of 
the  body  of  Christ,  whose  glorious  Head  is  in  hea- 
ven, 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  Him  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  beaming,  loving,  smiling  eyes  ;  alas  !  are  they 
these  starting,  blood-shot,  parched  and  sightless  balls  ? 
From  sights  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  inflic- 
tion ;  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  con- 
sideration that  the  child  of  God  has  in  this  encoun- 
tered his  closing  conflict ;  that  from  henceforth,  not 
only  peace  and  ease  will  be  his  portion,  but  fulness 
of  joy  at  God's  right  hand,  and  pleasures  for  ever- 
more. 

24 


278  MEMOIR   OF 

"  I  know  thou  art  gone  where  thy  forehead  la  starred 
With  the  beauty  that  dwelt  in  thy  soul : 
Where  the  light  ot  thy  loveliness  cannot  be  marred, 
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  wrapt  in  a  mantle  of  care  ; 

Yet  the  grief  of  my  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."* 

While  death  was  working  his  fearful  havoc  on  the 
earthen  tabernacle,  and  a  word  of  peace  occasionally 
dropping  from  the  lips,  there  was  one  indication  that 
the  poor  soul  was  still  struggling,  and  perhaps,  ia 
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  occasion,  when  she  was  repeating  her  often 
murmured  call,  "  Mother,  come  !  come  !"  unconscious 
that  she  was  hanging  over  her,  the  stanza  was  re- 
cited,— not,  however  anticipating  that  it  would  be  ob- 
served : — 

"  Jesus  thy  blood  and  righteousness. 
My  beauty  is,  my  glorious  dre^ss, 
'Midst  flaming  worlds,  in  these  arrayed, 
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 
«  T.  K.  Hervey. 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  279 

word,  "but — I -—doubt."  The  gleam  was  past,  the 
expanded  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,"  &,c.  &,c.  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  indication  that  she  was  still 
in  the  midst  of  feebleness  and  anguish,  liable  to  con- 
flict with  that  daring  foe  ?  It  is  probable  that  the 
thought  passed,  and  never  afflicted  her  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  wilderness, 
even  to  the  crossing  of  Jordan,  is  still  the  wilderness, 
and  that  sustaining  and  comforting  power  are  with 
Christ,  and  him  only. 

The  struggle  of  the  young  life  in  her,  however, 
was  subsiding.  Those  weary  tossings  were  gradually 
becoming  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  sanctuary  was  closed.  God  was  preach- 
ing 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 


280  MEMOIR   OF 

»wn  sweet  countenance  returned,  her  breathing  suh . 
'way,  and  her  emancipated  soul  passed  into  the  world 
of  spirits.  There  no  pause  occurs  in  the  acts  of  wor- 
ship. Where  the  Sabbath  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  litttc,  to  consider  that  Mary  de- 
parted 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  por- 
ter, but  it  has  been  his  office,  and  will  be  to  the  end, 
to  open  the  realms  of  everlasting  day  to  all  who  are 
united  to  Christ. 

The  snow-drop  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 
friend  is  taken  from  the  earth : — that  is  the  work  of  those 
who  were  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  en- 
dureth  for  ever  ;  dwelling  in  that  light  which  is  inef- 
fable 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  ser- 
mon 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  reli- 
ance on  her  God  and  Saviour,  seemed  a  merciful  se- 
lection 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. 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  281 

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  in- 
terfering. 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 — 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  domg  all  she  could  for 
others,  labouring  for  their  interests  in  spiritual  and  in 
common  things,  amid  duties  and  occupations  of  her 
own  immediate  charge,  that  are  enough  to  wholly  en- 
gross most  people  !  We  used  to  wonder  at  the  trouble 
she  took  about  every  body  ;  her  sweet,  mild,  Chris- 
tian manner,  giving  a  touching,  edifying  grace  to  all 
she  did.  God  gave  her  grace  to  accomplish  more, 
and  made  hex  light  to  burn  the  more  brightly,  that  it 
was  soon  to  be  extinguished." 

A  white  marble  tablet,  with  a  black  frame-work,  is 
erected  witliin  the  porch  of  the  church,  by  her  hus- 
band. 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  to  their  affectionate  gratitude,  for  spiritual 
benefits  derived  from  her  whose  remains  rest  there 
in  hope. 

"  Seed  sown  by  God 
To  ripen  for  the  harvest." 

Such  was  the  simple  epitaph  of  Klospstock  over 
his  Meta. — Seed  sown  in  God's  field.  We  have  re- 
jected the  appropriate  and  ancient  Saxon  name  of 
"  God's-Acre,"  and  have  adopted  the  name  of  church- 
yard, thus  losing  sight  of  the  august  proprietor.  This 
24* 


282  MEMOIR.   OF 

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,  con- 
sumes, 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  becomes  the  seed,  and 
death  prepares  him  for  the  earth.  The  Lord  of  all 
the  surrounding  land  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  fa- 
thers fell  asleep  all  things  have  remained  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  angelic  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  man- 
sions. 

"  And  so  shall  we  ever  be  with  the  Lord. — Where- 
fore comfort  one  another  with  these  words." 


MARY  LUNDIE  DUNCAN.  283 

Inscription  on  the  Marble  Tablet  in  the  Parish 

Church  of  Cleish : — 


dLo  tl)c  iUemoru  of 
MARY, 


DAUGHTER  OF  THE  LATE 

REV.  ROBERT  LUNDIE,  OF  KELSO, 

AND    WIFE    OP 

THE  REV.  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    THR    SERVICE    OF 

JESUS    CHRIST. 

LOVELY,    ALIKE    IN    PERSON    AND    IN    CHARACTER, 

SHE  DISCHARGED  WITH  FIDELITY  THE  DUTIES 

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. 


284 


GREEK  AIR. 
I. 

Mt  Saviour,  bo  thou  near  me 

Through  life's  night, 
I  C17  and  thou  wilt  hear  me, 
Be  my  light  I 
My  dim  sight  aching, 
Gently  thou'rt  making 
Meet  for  awaking 

Where  all  is  bright ! 


II. 

O  through  time's  swelling  ocean 

Be  my  Guide ! 
From  tempest's  wild  commotion 
Hide,  O  hide! 
Life's  crystal  river 
Storms  ruffle  never; 
Anchor  me  ever 

On  that  cahn  tide! 
Dec.  20,  1839.  m.  l.  d. 

With  Feeling. 


^ 


^Hyf-r-r- 


My      Sa  -  viour,    be      thou  near     me   Thro'  life's 


i^^;t=e=f=tff 


^^A 


^l'^^^ 


fel 


285 


night,      I        cry  and  tliou  wilt    hear  iiic  ;  He    my  light: 


/ 


:fc?f=^-f^tP-f=tTP-, 


SPd 


^fct 


:k=::P=:p=:^:^ 


It 


Sh 


:=±tz 


tlr 


Mrj— r 


My  dim  sight  ach-ing,  Gent     -     ly  thou'rt  ma     -     king 


m 


SPP 


±iit=3=^ 


e^zlr 


f-^-^ 
^-•- 


:^ 


S 


^ 


^^iiiiP^i 


Meet  for     a    -    wa-king  where    all       is  bright. 


±i^^ 


K 


-St 


APPENDIX. 


No.  I. 

THE    RETURN    OF    ISRAEL. 

Where  u  the  beauty  of  that  ancient  land, 

Where  patriarchs  fed  their  flocks  by  living  atreanfl 

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  Carmel'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  7 

Faint  are  the  quivering  notes,  and  sad,  and  low, 
That  now,  in  doubt  and  gloom,  from  Judah's  childron-flaw 

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  remmns, 

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  nigli  to  bid  your  sorrows  cease, 
Seed  of  the  Highest !     Yet  a  little  while, 

An  1  all  your  wanderings  shall  close  in  peace  :— 
Again  for  you  shall  Canaan's  beauty  smile : 


288  APPENDIX. 

And  where  the  cloud  of  heaven's  dire  vengeance  lower*!! 
P'er  the  rejoicinjj  land  Heaven's  sunshine*  shall  bo  pourei 

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  Amana'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  myrrht  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-strained  Calvary, 

And  bless  the  Man  of  woes, — rejected  long, — 
For  love  that  lived  through  all  his  agony. 

And  watched,  through  ages,  their  ungrateful  race, 
Hat  hatred  gave  for  love,  and  scorn  for  pardoning  grace. 

His  pitying  look  shall  melt  their  contrite  souls, 

His  smile  celestial  comfort  shall  infuse : 
Ab  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 

M.  L.  D. 

No.  II. 

Poems  and  hymns  for  her  Children  (to  No.  16,  inelutive.') 


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  ; 

*  Cant  ir.  and  viL  t  Cant  iv.  and  tL 


APPENDIX.  289 


I  see  your  lecfs,  what  tiny  things  1 
And  yet  how  fast  they  run. 

You  walk  along  the  ccilinjr  now 
And  down  the  uprijjht  wall  ; 

I'll  ask  mamma,  to  tell  me  how 
You  walk  and  do  not  fall. 

Twas  God  that  taught  you.  little  fly, 
To  walk  along  the  ground, 

And  mount  ahovo  my  head  so  high, 
And  frolic  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  lie  made. 

No.  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  i-t  good, — 
Wilt  tlio\i  wash  me  in  thy  blood? 
Jesus,  Saviour,  pity  me  I 
Hear  me  when  I  cry  to  thee ! 

Short  has  been  my  pilgrim  way, 
Yet  I'm  sinking  every  day  ; 
Though  I  am  so  young  and  weak. 
Irately  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  I  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 ! 
25 


S90 


Tho'  I  cannot  cease  from  fuilt, 
Thou  canst  cleanse  me,  and  thou  ■wilt} 
Since  tliy  blood  for  me  was  shed, 
Crowned  with  thorns  thy  blessed  head 
Thou,  who  lov'd  and  suffered  so, 
Ne'er  will  bid  me  from  thee  go  ; 
Jesus,  thou  wilt  pity  me  I 
Save  me  when  I  cry  to  thee  I 


No.  IV. 

A    MORNINO    PRAYER. 

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  freinds,  both  I'itr  and  near. 

And  keep  them  safe  and  well. 

No  V. 

AN    EVENING    PRAYER. 

Jesus,  tender  shepherd,  hear  me  ! 

Bless  thy  little  lambs  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  has  clothed  me,  warmed  and  fed  m*. 
Listen  'z  ;.iy  evening  prayer. 


APPENDIX  291 


Let  my  sins  be  all  forgiven  ! 

Bless  the  frifnds  I  love  so  well  ! 
Take  me,  when  I  die,  to  heaven, 

Happy  there  with  thee  to  dwell  I 


No  VI. 


PREPARING    FOR    SUNDAY. 

Haste  !  put  your  play-things  all  away,— 
To-morrow  is  the  Sabbatii-day  ; 
Come  !  bring  to  me  your  Noah's  ark, 
Your  pretty  tinkling  music-cart ; 
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,  yon  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  leam 
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. 


No.  VII. 

SATURDAY    NIGHT. 

The  w^eek  is  passing  fast  away. 
The  hours  are  ahnost  done  ; 

Before  I  rise,  the  Sabbath-day 
Will  surely  be  begun. 


292  APPENDIX, 

Through  all  this  week,  what  have  I  done? 

Have  I  been  kind  to  ail  ? 
Have  I  sought  any  tliiiifj  but  fun, 
And  run  at  every  call  t 

Have  I  been  still  when  I  was  bid, 
And  ceased  to  make  a  noise  1 

Have  I  been  good  in  all  I  did, 
At  lestions  or  at  toys  ? 

I'm  naughty  every  day  I  live — 

Say  many  a  I'oolisli  word, 
But  God  can  forgive  all  my  sins, 

Tlirough  Jesus  Christ  my  Lord. 

An  infant's  prayer  he  will  not  scom  J^ 

I'll  |)ray  before  I  sleep, 
And  ask  his  love  ;  then  rest  till  mom, 

For  he  my  soul  will  keep. 


No.  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  liouse  of  prayer  ; 
For  there  God  promises  to  meet 
All  those  who  worship  at  his  feet. 

Yes  !  listen  to  that  chime,  my  love. 

Sweeter  than  eartiily  song, 
It  telLs  us  of  that  home  above. 

Where  we  shall  praise  ere  long ; 
For  if  we  serve  our  (iod  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. 


APPENDIX.  293 


How  ^acious  iias  our  Father  been, 

In  giving  Sabbatlis  here, 
To  rest  our  hearts  ;  hke  pastures  green 

The  weary  flocks  that  cheer. 
Oh  let  us  thank  him  for  his  day, 
And  Snd  it  sweet  to  praise  and  pray. 


No.  IX. 

GOINQ   TO    CHURCH. 

Whither  are  these  people  walking? 

Dear  mamma,  I  want  to  know. 
Some  are  with  each  other  talking, 

Some  alone  and  silent  go  ! 
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. 

Oh  how  kind  was  Christ  in  saying,— 
"  Little  children  come  to  me." 

Will  you  come  and  be  his  own, 

Give  your  heart  to  him  alone. 


No.  X. 

THE    GREEN    PASTURES. 

I  wafked  in  a  field  of  fresh  clover  this  mom. 

Where  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  wear)',  with  play ; 

And  so  gay  did  the  daisies  and  buttercups  look. 
That  I  thought  little  lambs  must  be  happy  all  day. 


204  APrENDix. 

And,  when  I  remember  the  beautiful  psalm, 

That  tells  about  Christ  nnd  his  pastures  so  green  ; 

1  know  he  is  willing;  to  make  iiie  his  lamb; 
And  happier  far  tliaii  the  lambs  I  have  seeu. 

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  sheep-fold  to  me  he  will  give. 

The  lambs  are  at  peace  in  the  fields  when  they  play  ; 

The  long  summer's  day  in  contentment  they  spend ; 
But  happier  I, — if  in  God's  holy  way 

I  trj'  to  walk  always,  with  Christ  for  my  friend. 


No.  XL 


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. 

Oh,  if  the  lambs  to  me  would  come, 

I'd  try  and  sing  Glenshee  ; 
And  here,  in  this  warm  quiet  room, 

How  sound  their  sleep  would  be ! 


APPENDIX. 


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  8    ANSWER. 

The  lambs  sleep  in  the  fields,  'tis  true, 

Without  a  lullaby  ; 
And  yet  they  are  as  warm  as  you, 

Beneath  the  summer  sky. 

They  choose  some  dry  and  grassy  spo* 

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  kept  the  sheep  from  evening  dew. 

Or  from  the  wintry  storm. 

And  when  the  night  is  bitter  cold. 
The  she])herd  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  ia  his  arms. 

And  in  his  bosom  bears  ; 
How  blest, — how  safe  from  all  alarms,— 

Each  child  his  love  who  shares  I 

Oh !  if  you'll  be  his  gentle  child. 

And  listen  to  his  voice, 
Be  loving,  dutiful,  and  mild. 

How  will  mamma  rejoice  I 

Then,  when  you've  done  His  will  below 

And  you  are  called  to  die  ; 
In  liis  kind  arms  your  soul  shall  go 

To  his  own  fold  on  high. 


296  APPENDIX. 

No.  XII. 

THE    BEE    AND   THE    FLOWERR 
MOTHER. 

Ah  !  do  not, — do  not  touch  tliat  bee  ! 
Stand  still,  ita  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. 


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  Jlowera  7 

It  settles  where  the  woodbine  sweet 
Twines  round  the  tree — it  plants  its  feet— 

Ilow  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  toll — 

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 : 


APrnNDix.  29T 


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. 


Mamma,  you  told  me  it  was  God 

Who  clothed  with  flowers  the  ground  I  trod— 

Oh,  I  will  love  him  well  I 
He  made  the  flowers  to  feed  the  bee, 
And  to  delight  a  child  like  me. 

Who  scarce  his  praise  can  tell. 

No.  XIII. 

THE    WET    SPARROW. 

How  heavy  the  rain  is  that  falls  on  the  ground ! 

How  cold  is  the  wind  through  the  garden  that  blowB ! 
It  shakes  the  large  drops  from  the  branches  around — 

And  see  I  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? 

'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  I 

Mairmia,  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  ; 
^^'nich  never  wears  out,  nor  by  wetting  is  spoiled  ; 

For  through  summer  and  winter  its  heauty  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  while  is  its  breast, 
And  in  coat  black  and  grey  it  is  neatly  arrayed. 


298  APPENDIX. 

For  God,  wlio  so  kindly  gives  comforts  to  you, 

Takes  caro  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. 

No.  XIV. 

MY    LITTLE    BROTHER. 

Little  brother,  darling  boy. 

You  are  very  dear  to  me ! 
I  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  nm. 

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. 

No.  XV. 

THE    HEATH. 

This  is  a  pretty  flower  indeed. 

You've  brought  to  show  mamma  to-day  J 

Though  common,  'tis  no  vulgar  weed. 
Fit  only  to  be  thrown  away. 


APPENDIX.  299 

It  is  the  heath,  or  Heather-bell ; — 

I  guess  you  found  it  on  the  hill : 
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  bo  green, 

Fairer  than  those  of  garden  bowers. 

The  humming  bee  oft  wings  its  way, 

To  seek  the  lioney  from  its  breast, 
It  toils  each  sunny  autumn  day, 

In  winter  'twill  have  time  to  rest. 

Nay,  do  not  eat  it,  simple  one  ! 

For  you  will  find  no  honey  there  ; 
But  when  the  bees  their  work  have  done. 

You  in  their  sweets  perhaps  may  share. 


No.  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  il  is  large,  and  sometimes  it  is  small. 
Fray,  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  be-side  it,  my  love; 

Now  run  round  the  room,  it  will  go  where  you  go : 

When  you  sit  'twill  be  still,  when  you  rise,  it  wiil  movai 


300  APPEm)ix 


I  don't  like  to  see  it,  do  please  let  me  ring 
For  Betsy  to  take  all  the  shudows  awa> 


No  ;  Betay  oft  carries  a  lieavier  thing, 

But  she  could  not  lift  this  should  siie  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  walla 

And,  when  you  aro  out  some  fine  day  in  the  sun, 
I'll  take  you  where  shadows  of  apple-trees  lie  ; 

And  houses  and  cottages  too, — every  one 
Cast  a  shade  when  the  sun's  shining  bright  in  the  sky. 

Now  hold  up  your  mouth,  and  give  me  a  sweet  kiss, 
Otw  thadows  kiss  too  !  don't  you  see  it  quite  plain  T 


O  yes !  and  I  thank  you  for  telling  me  this ; 
I'll  not  be  afraid  of  a  shadow  again. 


No.  XVII. 

ISAIAH,  CHAP.  LXII.  VER.  1-5. 

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  7 

Shall  they  not  find  his  grace  ? 

Yes  ;  when  Iiis  church  is  stirred  to  pray» 

Oh  Salem  !  for  thy  lino. 
As  orient  lipht  of  breaking  day 

Tl'^  :ignteousuess  shall  shine. 


801 


As  lamp  that  clieera  tlie  gloomy  night. 

Shall  thy  salvation  he  ; 
Gentiles  siiall  hail  thy  rising  ligiit, 

And  kings  thy  glory  see. 

Emerging  from  the  cloud  of  wo, 

As  God's  own  fold  confesl ; 
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  shall  lie, — 
No  more  thy  laud  siiail  pine  ; 

Beulah  siiall  bo  its  title  high. 
And  Hephzi-bah  be  thine. 

Thy  scattered  sons,  from  many  a  6hor% 
Shall  eager  throng  to  thee  ; 

Widowed  and  desolate  no  more, — 
Thy  laud  shall  married  be. 

In  thee,  as  bridegroom  o'er  his  bride, 

Jehovah  shall  rejoice ; 
For  evermore  thou  slialt  abide 

The  peoole  of  his  choice. 


No.  XVIII. 


THE    ISLES   OF   THE    GENTILE& 

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  ; 
26 


302  APPENDIX. 

And  'gainst  those  skies  of  amber  lijjht, 
The  pahn-tree  lifts  its  towering  head. 

Alas  !  that  in  those  happy  vaJes, 

Meet  liomes  for  pure  and  heaven-bom  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  hcatlieu  bondage  pine. 

O  haste  I  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  obscure  the  day. 

May  rise  the  incense  of  a  race 

Whose  souls  are  taught  by  Heaven  to  pray. 

When  shall  the  solemn  Sabbath-bell 

Chime  through  those  plains  at  morning  prime 

And  choral  hymns  of  praises  swell 

Tlirough  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." 
December,  1834. 

No.  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  ! 


APPENDIX. 

Now  falls  the  strai  i  ;  but  silent  still, 
As  hearing  yet  that  cliarmed  sound. 

Rests  a  briglit'band, — for  npture's  thrlU 
Yet  vibrates  in  each  bosom's  bound. 

The  hush  is  o'er  !  the  beaming  smile 

And  low-toned  whispers  breathe  delight ; 

Oh  could  those  strains  that  time  beguile 
Yet  float  upon  the  wings  of  uight  I 

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. 

Vas  music  given  to  cheer  your  souls  ? 

'Tis  purer  where  the  angels  dwell : 
Through  heaven  the  lofty  anthem  rolls, 

As  thousand  lyres  the  chorus  swell  I 

Love  ye  the  scrft,  the  pensive  calm, 

That  earth-born  numbers  round  you  shedT 

The  soul  that  wins  the  victor's  palm, 
Shall  hymn  ecstatic  joys  when  time  is  fled 


No.  XX. 


Written  in  M.  A.  B.'s  Album. 

I  ask  not  that  where  pleasure  tunes 

Her  syren  voice  to  song, 

Thou  to  the  fairy  strains  mayest  list 

Amid  the  giddy  throng  ; 

For  well  I  know  that  happiness. 

Fair  child  of  heavenly  birth  I 

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  tlic  brow, 

And  sorrow  dims  the  eye, 


303 


304  APPENDIX. 

Her  visions  of  cnjoj-ment  cease, 
Her  fair  illusions  die. 

I  afik  not  that  in  fragrant  bowert 
Thy  sunny  days  may  fly, 
Where  every  tranquil  object  Emilea 
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  jounieyest  through  the  world 

Will  keep  thy  heart  at  rest. 

For  siie  will  shed  her  radiant  beam 

On  thine  untroubled  heart. 

And  thou  shall  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. 


No.  XXI. 
"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 


APPENDIX.  805 

Yet  dearer  is  its  bending  stem 

And  cup  of  blue  that  pruce  the  bower. 
Than  many  a  cosily  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  saddou'd  heart, 

"  Look  on  it,  and  forget  ne  not." 

And  oft,  when  wandering  in  a  land 

That's  dearly  loved  by  thee  and  mo, 
We  gatliered  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,  tiiinl;  on  me. 

Forget  me  not  I  thou  ever  dear  ! 

May  it  to  faithful  memory 

Recalling  many  a  long-loved  spot ; 
For  distant  Scotland  and  for  mo. 

Breathe  softly,  sweet  "  Forget  me  not  I" 

For  though  no  more  thou  viewest  the  flower. 

And  hail'st  its  blossoms  opening  fair, 
Yet  lovest  thou  to  recall  the  hour, 

When  we  have  marked  its  beauties  there  ! 


No.  XXII. 

ADDRESS   TO    SCOTLAND. 

Written  when  occasionally  exposed  to  the  unpleasant  bantering 
of  one  whose  ne  plus  ultra  of  wisdom  seemed  comprised  id 
having  skill  to  conduct  ones-self  amid  London  crowds  and 
London  sharpers,  exiiibiting,  in  short,  the  contraction  of  mind 
briefly  expressed  by  the  word  Cockneyi/^m.  The  plan  she 
adopted  to  indicate  that  the  style  of  ridiculing  her  country  wa^j 
unpleasant  to  her,  was  not  only  mild,  but  skilful  in  one  so 
young. 

TO    SCOTLA.ND. 

Thou  art  the  country  of  my  birth, 
Aiid  wheresoe'er  I  rove, 
20* 


APPENDIX. 

Thou  art  the  spot  of  all  the  earth 
I'll  nevf  r  cease  to  love. 

Thou  art  the  land  where  first  my  eye« 

Were  opened  to  tlie  day  ; 
Where  first  I  heard  the  lullabies 

That  soothed  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  sacrod  name 
Which  breathes  of  immortality 

And  feeds  love's  holy  flame. 

Tlie  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  s^^eet  affection  die 

That  knits  my  heart  to  thee.  M. 


No   XXIII. 

HOME. 

Written  about  the  same  period. 

There  is  a  magic  in  the  name  of  home, 

A  charm  which  even  the  callous  bosom  knows, 

And  Oh,  whi'U  from  its  precincts  far  we  roam, 
How  brightly  each  loved  scene  in  memory  glows  I 


307 


Wfien  wandering  in  a  scene  of  strife  and  cares, 
Mid  those  alas  I  wo  may  not  deem  our  friends, 

How  fair  a  form  eacli  scone  of  childhood  bears — • 
How  warmly  each  dear  distant  object  blends  i 

The  Eolian  lyre,  touched  by  the  passing  gale, 
When  rapt  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  thoe,  as  hies  the  turtle  to  her  nest, 

We  speed,  to  taste  thy  joys  of  peaceful  flow 

Sweet  home  !  Oh  pitied  be  the  frozen  soul 

Which  flies  affection's  bland  and  melting  light, 

And  woos  the  gleams  that  flash  around  the  pole, 
Cold,,  cheerless,  fleeting — ofl'spring  of  the  night ! 

Which  shuns  the  sunshine  of  domestic  peace, 
Like  summer  morn,  all  lovely  and  serene. 

Whose  plecisures  but  with  lengthening  years  increase. 
While  friendship's  sweetest  smiles  illume  the  scene. 

Swi?et  happy  home  I   Oh  can  I  e'er  forget 

Thy  charms — thy  flowery  bowers,  thine  azure  sky — 
And  those  dear  friends  who  in  thy  bounds  are  met ; 

Ah,  uo  I  ah,  no  I  "  I'll  love  theo  till  I  die." 


No.  XXIV. 

The  first  letter,  referred  to  in  the  Note  at  page  7,  is  addressed 
to  her  pastor  in  Edinburgh,  by  a  friend  who  often  ministered  tc 
hifi  people  at  communion  seasons. 

"  Though  scarcely  acquainted  with  your  departed  friend,  yet 


3  OS  APPENDIX. 

none  could  seo  her  without  feeling  very  deeply  interested.  The 
first  time  my  eyes  beheld  her,  was  as  I  came  down  your  pulpit 
Btairs  Olio  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  anwl 
of  light  I  I  need  not  tell  you  thai  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  aro 
there  when  we  look  back  and  dwell  on  her  life  ;  and  how  much 
also  to  soodie  in  her  death.  If  the  [lower  of  recognition  is  given 
to  beatified  spirits,  Oh  how  it  must  exhilarate  her  father's  adora- 
tion, to  know  that  the  voice  of  one  whom  he  taught  to  lisp  in 
grace,  now  swells  the  song  of  the  heavenly  choir." 

The  otlier  letter  quoted  is  from  her  friend  in  America,  tlie  Rev. 
Dr.  C. 

"  I  feel  as  if,  like  Job's  friends,  I  could  commence  my  intro- 
duction to  your  altered  state,  with  seven  days  and  seven  nighta 
of  mute  confusion,  wondering  and  vaguely  discrediting  the  reali- 
ties I  know.  Were  I  to  tell  you  all  that  1  have  said  and  thought 
since  my  return,  of  tliat  dear  one  now  in  glory,  it  would  appear 
extravagant  and  fictitious.  But  I  will  not  attempt  to  send  you 
Buch  a  document.  Suffice  it,  that  1  loved  your  dear  Mary,  and 
love  her  yet,  as  one  of  the  rarest  specimens  of  woman  !  Lovely 
creature!  I  often  said  that  I  bore  from  Europe  no  impressions 
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  cor- 
respondent, has  left  me  alone  as  to  her,  in  the  world,  and  what 
sorrow  it  has  piled  on  me,  that  1  cannot  bear." 


No.  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, 
universally  agreed  in  their  estimate.  All  speak  with  love  and 
admiration  of  the  rare  combination  of  excellencies  she  exhibited. 
Her  piety,  natural  dispositions,  intellectual  attainments,  accom- 
plishments and  personal  attractions,  would,  if  held  separately, 
have  distinguished  their  possessors  in  society,  but  when  united  in 


APPENDIX.  309 

one  individual,  like  the  colours  in  the  heavenly  bow,  each  shed 
a  lustre  on  the  other. 

"  To  begin  with  the  evanescent  qualities,  I  am  glad  a  portrait 
was  not  attempted.  It  would  have  been  loo  much  to  hope  for  a 
likeness.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  surprise  that  it  should  bo  difficult 
to  transfer  to  canvass  those  features,  chiselled  in  the  highest  style 
of  Greciau  beauty,  and  lighted  up,  as  fhoy  usu;illy  were,  with  an 
expression  almost  seraphic — and  it  is  belter  that  nothing  unjustly 
purporting  to  be  a  representation  should  appear.  I  well  remem- 
ber when  at  school,  a  weight  having  accidentally  fallen  on  dear 
Mary's  head,  she  was  obliged  to  recline  oh  a  sofa  ;  the  fright  ha<i 
Bent  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  ala- 
baster face,  as  I  thought  I  had  never  before  seen  any  thing  so 
beautiful.  On  glancing  round,  each  eye  was  found  attracted  to 
the  same  spot,  and  an  involuntary  murmur  of  admiration  es- 
caped every  lip.  This  little  incident  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  re- 
ality. 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  Ilim  for  the 
use  she  makes  of  her  beauty,  as  the  man  of  intellect  is  for  the 
talents  bestowed  on  him." 

"  The  term  holy,  which  can  seldom  be  used  in  reference  to 
individuals  dwelling  in  this  world  of  sin,  always  seemed  singu- 
larly applicable  to  dear  Mary.  She  was  one  of  the  very  few  in 
whom  for  days  together  you  might  endeavour  to  trace  her  ac- 
tions 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  common.  The  godlike  disposition  to  promote  the 
happiness  of  every  sentient  being,  was  displayed  in  acts  of  kind- 
ness to  every  person  and  living  thing  within  her  reach.  Large 
indeed  were  the  sympathies  of  that  unselfish  heart  1 

"  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  ac<iuaintaince  with 
the  best  classic  authors  in  her  own  language.  Her  coinpanionO' 
ble  qualities,  were  appreciated  even  by  those  who  had  no  opfwr- 
tunity  of  judging  of  the  deeper  parts  of  her  character.    She  had 


310  APPKNDIX. 

a  most  happy  mode  of  imparling  information — that  suggestive 
manner,  which  seems  to  give  the  superiority  to  the  liearer.  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 
investigation  as  to  the  amount  of  new  ideas  and  images  re- 
ceived. Her  enthusiastic  enjoyment  of  the  beauties  of  Nature  and 
Poetry  might  have  tempted  one  to  suppose  that  an  atmosphere  of 
poetical  excitement  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  pur- 
suits united  to  very  active  habits,  founded  on  a  principle  of  duty. 
"  Her  industry  was  indcfatigablo.  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  ac- 
knowledge and  admire  the  strength  of  that  principle  which  ob- 
tained 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." 


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