last hour was while we were at breakfast. Miss C. would not leave the room, and I just entered it, to see the last breath drawn by the dear young saint. You will remember first introducing him to my husband, and I have often thought we owed to the fondness of that interview excited in both to each other, the honor God granted us of having him to minister to in his illness and death. He came first to this house when he arrived in Glasgow, and we secured by that, what any other family would have done, that he should always come to us; and so eager were we to have him, that when Mr. and Mrs. Matheson and children were with us, after fixing we should ask a bed for him from our kind neighbor Mrs. Smith, we put up a bed for him in the little dressing room. I send you the letters of Dr. Chalmers, and Mrs. Moreland, &c. and you know the universal testimony to his worth, and talents, and piety, and engaging manners. If there is any thing farther you wish on this subject that I can supply, it will give me satisfaction. I cannot but hope the Lord will bless the memoir to many souls. Surely such a bright star has not, in the short space it was seen, reflected all it was lighted up for, of the glory of God." The following is Miss Cathcart's letter, to which Mrs. Ewing refers : "We have witnessed a very painful and solemn scene, in the death of that dear child of God. Mr. and Mrs. Ewing felt it an honor to administer to his comfort; and it was a privilege to myself attending him, which I trust will benefit 226 my own soul. Much mercy was mixed with the trying dispensation. It was most providential a ticket in the Perth coach could not be had; and when Mr. Urquhart seemed to regret it, Mr. Ewing said there was a providence in all these things; in which he directly acquiesced. In all his wanderings, not a murmur or complaint was heard. When he was collected and prayed aloud, it was most delightful to hear him pouring out his heart to God in such humble and scriptural language. I wish the self-righteous had heard him declare that if he got what he deserved he would be in hell fire, and that he had nothing to plead but the mercy of God, through the righteousness of Christ. At times when unable to speak, he appeared sensible by the placid smile on his countenance. When Mr. Ewing was praying, and when he mentioned any of the cheering promises in the gospel to believers, Urquhart would say, 'Yes! yes!' with great emphasis. At one time when his poor father asked the state of his mind, he replied, in perfect peace, stayed on God,' and repeated a second time, 'stayed on God.' One morning he asked me if his father was up, I asked him if he wished to see him, he replied, 'Yes.' When he came he said, 'John, do you know your Father?' to which he replied, 'I know my father';—and then Mr. Urquhart said 'I hope you know your father in heaven, who, I trust, has prepared a mansion for you.' I think the sweet youth said, 'I believe there is.' At another time when nobody was in his sight, I heard him say, 'Come, Lord Jesus come quickly.' When alone in his room, but not that he could see me, he said, 'Who is there?' I went to his bed-side, and said Miss Cathcart, thinking he might not know my voice; he replied, 'When did you come here?' I said I have been with you all the time you have been ill here, and I feed you with what you eat;he said, 'I am happy to have my friends with me.' I replied, you have a Friend who sticketh closer than a brother; 'Yes,' he added, 'Jesus Christ is a Friend who sticketh closer than a brother; but all the Lord's people are interested in each other.' At times when we did not think he knew us, he showed he did, by naming us, or holding out his hand, and expressed anxiety for Mrs. Ewing fatiguing herself, by different times saying, 'My beloved Mrs. Ewing, lie down beside me.' The most heart rending scene I ever witnessed, was on the Tuesday night before his death. Mr. Urquhart came into the room, and at the bed-side gave up in prayer his son to the Lord, when all the yearning of the afflicted parent was expressed, and the submission of the christian exemplified.-Some present thought John sensible and agitated, but I was so much distressed myself that I did not observe. The poor father is much to be pitied, who says he has lost his child, son, friend, counsellor, and comforter. My friend Mrs. Smith's husband, told me he had never been at a funeral where such a feeling of regret was shown. The sick nurse and the servants paid him the greatest attention, and many tears they shed for him. He told us how very kind Colonel and Mrs. Moreland had been to him; also that the house-keeper had been quite like a mother to him during his illness." His death took place on Wednesday, the 10th of January, 1827, when he was only eighteen but interesting, useful and glorious. However mysterious it may appear to us, it was doubtless well with him; and Christ, who was gain to him in life, proved to him gain in death also. His course was calm, holy, and consistent;-its termination was peaceful and happy. It was improved by Mr. Ewing, on the following Lord's-day, from Psalm cxvi. 15. "Precious in the sight of the Lord, is the death of his saints." It produced, among many others, the following letter from Dr. Chalmers, to his father; My dear Sir; St. Andrews, January 15, 1827. I cannot refrain from offering my condolence on the late melancholy bereavement, wherewith it hath pleased a mysterious Providence to visit you. I received the intelligence, by a letter from Mr. Ewing, which I circulated among the numerous friends and acquaintances of your son in this place. His death has created a great sensation among his fellow students, by whom he was held in the highest reverence and regard; which feelings were shared also by the Professors; several of whom I heard expressing their utmost regret, and affirming him to be the most distinguished, in point of ability and good conduct, of all the disciples who ever attended them. I yesterday communicated the afflicting intelligence to the children of my sabbath school. They both knew and loved him, he having taken charge of their religious instruction, for one session of college. They were evidently affected by the melancholy news. To your christian mind, there is a far richer consolation than that which is afforded by the report,or the remembrance of his first-rate talents; talents, which would have raised him to the highest summits of learning and philosophy; had he not wished to consecrate them all to the service of his Redeemer. Your best, and most precious comforts, under this heavy dispensation, are to be drawn from the consideration of that faith, by which he was actuated, of that grace which animated his heart and adorned his history, of that glory, for the enjoyment of which he was so ripened and prepared; in a word of that promise, that they who sleep in Jesus, shall meet again in that country, where sorrow and separation are alike unknown. Few parents are called to sustain so severe a loss as you have now done;-but with few, very few indeed, is the loss tempered by such precious alleviations. I am, my dear Sir, Your's with sympathy and regard, The following lines, addressed to him by one of his correspondents, were, indeed, sadly prophetical of the event which so soon after took place. They are simple, and beautifully descriptive of the feelings, not of the writer only, but of his friend, and strikingly applicable to his last closing scene. 2 TIMOTHY iv. 6. "The Christian Pilgrim bid depart,- Fear can no longer chill his heart, |