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was a robe of love, and pity, and humility, that he never cast from him in the most unrestrained intercourse of domestic privacy. We never were allowed to speak of character, unless we were commending. Sometimes we were impatient at this; but no matter : he would say, •Speak of your own corruptions, but whisht! wbisht! about other folk. I am quite satisfied that he must, early in life, have so studied his relative situation to God and to his fellow-creatures, as to have clearly discerned the blindness and malignity of dwelling on corruptions in others, to the existence of which, in his own heart, he was so tenderly alive. Besides this, there was that of dignity within him that contemned such uncharitable indulgence. I can truly say, he never put it in our power to betray him; and the world would smile if they knew the numerous instances wherein the young folks of his household felt kindly towards characters whom be, as well as the public, knew in a very different light. Not that he indiscriminately praised; no, he never compromised his integrity; but by laying hold of every character by the favourable side, (and who but presents such ?) be made the world appear to us, what, I am sorry to add, I have not found it.
“ Of my father it may most truly be said, that he was • given to hospitality,' and that at times when the exercise of the virtue was neither strictly necessary nor convenient. During the earlier years of his life, his slender means and his limited accommodations were frequently, with perhaps more generosity than prudence, made available to promote the comfort of such of his friends as curiosity or necessity brought to London; and it is a fact, that, on many occasions, large calls were made even on his wardrobe, as well as on his purse, in order to give external respectability of appearance to those of his countrymen who, on their arrival in London, applied to him for introduction to profitable employment. His increasing knowledge, however, of the world, and the many claims made by his own family, most happily moderated this extreme gratification of his natural generosity, without in the least diminishing the innate force and purity of the principle. His house, though small, and scarcely affording accommodation to his own family, was ever open to his brethren, especially those of his own communion, from Scotland; and no sooner was he apprised of their intended visit to London, than, if at all consistent with previous domestic arrangements (and he was not very particular on this point), he hastened to offer them, with a sincerity of invitation that could not be mistaken, a place at his family board, and a bed under his roof; though his pressing avocations necessarily called him so constantly from home during the day, that he himself seldom enjoyed the pleasure of their society, or was able to press his kindly offices upon them, till late at night, on his return. Well do I remember with what innocent raillery he used frequently to demolish the obstructions which our views of domestic comfort might occasionally place in the way of such invitations, with what affectionate warmth he would' welcome the new-comer,' and the pain his mind felt when “bis brother from the North,' with his parting blessing on his head, returned back to his own family and people. I am sure, that many of those who were thus welcomed by him to London, andfrom whom he thus parted, will willingly bear their testimony to the justness of this very imperfect tribute to the active kindness of him who is gone.
“In addition to his onerous public and professional duties, his benevolence led him to undertake (or at all events to execute) a multiplicity of friendly offices, which frequently encroached deeply upon bis time. Among these were executorial trusts, which were numerous and troublesome, often involving him in all the responsible duties of a trustee to whom was committed the education and bringing up of children. Another charge constantly devolving upon him was the introduction into business, &c. of
young men, recommended or confided to his care by friends in Scotland. He used to say, that he was quite ashamed of the obligations under which he laid himself in furthering the views of his correspondents, many of whom were so inconsiderate as to make him in a manner their London agent, even in trifling concerns, and that to an extent exceedingly oppressive. He sometimes expressed himself amazed at the various applications made to him, and would say, 'I really wonder who these country folks think I am, and how I am to get time to attend to all their wants;' but he was never known to neglect a single application, and his family were consequently often engaged for hours writing for him; for, in advanced life, his hand being very unsteady, writing was the most laborious part of his employment. Indeed, his extensive correspondence (including his wide and constant intercourse with ministers in all parts of the kingdom,) obliged him to draw so largely upon the time of the members of his own family, that even they could sometimes scarcely refrain from murmuring at the comparatively small, but still large, share of labour thus imposed on them. Even at meal-time, and frequently, if he could get them around him, before breakfast, would he be busied either in writing or dictating; and no sooner did a son enter his study than, after a hurried welcome, his uniform request was, — Now, that's a gude lad, you're just come in time; sit down, and take the pen there; only five minutes, positively.' But this five minutes was generally extended to near an hour. On the subject of his correspondence, I shall only add, that latterly (till within two years of his death), on his return home in the evening, his letter-box was generally full, containing ten or twelve letters; and such was his devotion to this duty, that not a word would he say on general matters till all these letters were attended to. And, in truth, so numerous were his avocations, that, knowing how jealously his family watched his health, and to escape the strong opposition they gave
to such exertions, he scarcely ever mentioned one half of them to his children. In all the above labours, he himself acted generally as if the whole of the detail devolved on himself; yet, notwithstanding all this, we could not raise á blush on his cheek so soon as by praising his exertions or taking notice of his popularity. His utmost selfcomplacency only allowed him to say, “Really, I fear that I shall have a rap over the knuckles yet.'
" From my earliest remembrance of my revered father, every domestic indulgence was made to yield to public duty. So prompt was he in this, that it never appeared to be made a question in his mind: this was evident, from his never talking or boasting of it. Preaching, prayer and society meetings, visiting the sick, attending to the young and the poor, were the daily food of his active mind. No one had a keener relish than he for the pleasures of social intercourse, and I need not tell you of the life and benevolence his countenance always inspired. But this most alluring enjoyment never led him to sacrifice one sacred duty, however humble the abode into which that duty might lead him. It was this following of conscience that led him into so much peace. I never remember hearing him accuse himself of neglecting a duty for the sake of a pleasure.
“ His punctuality was a very decided virtue. Living in a large city, where so much time was necessarily lost in going from place to place, he soon found the absolute necessity of punctuality, and practised it scrupulously. He was often irritated by the carelessness of others on this point, and used to say, no man had a right to rob another of his time. In his ministerial visitations he always appointed the exact hour, and would upon no account infringe it, knowing that a slight inattention to this matter might rob a poor man of an hour's wages. One rule he made, that of visiting his poor in the evenings, in order to save them from losing their work. This was done at a vast expense of toil and inconvenience to himself; and well I remember with what anxiety we used to listen for his heavy wearied footstep returning home, between ten and eleven o'clock at night, from his visits in garrets and kitchens.
“But the Sabbath was his day of delight. He was early up in the morning, and gave no rest to his household till he had rung for us all. We used to complain sometimes of being discomposed by this, and we at last got him persuaded to desist from it, upon the express condition that we should be all assembled at his stated hour. It was most amusing to see him, for the first few mornings, ready half an hour before the time, and, within the last five minutes, standing with the bell-rope in his hand, ready to give us a hearty peal if we had been a moment beyond the time. But we took care not to break our engagement. Two quiet hours in the vestry before the public services commenced were essential to his comfort. His spirit seemed always peculiarly sanctified on the Sabbath mornings; he spoke little, and did not appear to take his usual interest in conversation. If any thing was said not so suitable to the day, his reproof was, “Be spiritually minded; be spiritually minded.' Before leaving home, he invariably retired to his back-parlour for prayer, but so quietly as if he did not wish it noticed. When we met again in the evening, the expression of his holy joy was different. In the morning he was all humility and dependence, and jealous of every thing that might withdraw his soul from the near contemplation of the God whose minister he was ; in the evening he was all gratitude and joy. He never spoke of Sabbath labours. No; three services were not half the demands his heart made upon him. Like David, he would, had his strength allowed, have served God seven times a day. It seemed painful for him to retire from the sanctuary, and he did it blessing God, who had made him to minister in holy things. Our family meeting was always most numerous on that night, and