cultivation of them, which is one thing that we need to guard against.

Not that we go continuously in fear of death, of which, indeed, we think less, probably, than others; less than the old whose faces are turned toward it; less, even, than the young, to whose intense vitality and vivid ardour it is often suggested by its contrasted silence and gloom, and to whose wonder its mystery appeals. But it would be peculiarly hard for us to be arrested and summoned away. Yet it becomes us to remember that the characteristic of middle age -its tendency to conservatism, to grow rigid and indisposed for change-is just the beginning of the sentence of death in us; the woodman's mark upon the tree, in token that it is not to remain, but stands destined to be cut down before long; it is the foreshadowing of our departure, the whisper in us that we are meant for removal. For death, you know, which is God's pain to the individual and family, is God's mercy to society, one of the blessed and beautiful means by which He is ever preventing the stagnation of humanity and keeping the world in progress; and every death in mature age is the sacrifice and offering up of a man in the interest of men, since, after a time we are rather in the way, or at least unhelpful to the forward movement; and not only so, but, ineffectual to prevent it, in sweeping on, it leaves us behind, forlorn and fretful.

The kindred spirits with whom we once took sweet counsel are gone; we are comparatively alone in the crowd; and thus, when at length death comes, in the sacrifice of the individual there is, generally speaking, much mercy to the individual. The necessity of death lies in the diminution of receptivity, in the fixedness of nature, which, beyond a certain point, the growing years entail; and the tendency to it, which middle age brings, is the beginning of death's claim upon us; then it is that we begin to be set with our faces gravewards.

In the meanwhile, however, this desire to abide as we are, ever present in the midst, through the continual ripening of youth toward maturity, has its great use and benefit. A world given up to the fervid aspirations, reckless experiments, adventurous, impetuous essays of the young, would be in sore peril of suffering wreck in its plunges after higher things. Our comparative conservatism serves to keep the onward striving sober and safe, to guard and guide; and here is our work and mission, even to help

thus, yet without in the least hindering. Having lost much of your youthful fire and fury, impulsiveness and passion, beware of becoming injuriously obstructive, of sinking into a hard and rigid fear of movement. Mix a good deal with the young. In spite of your own youthful mistakes and blunders, cultivate trust in their instincts and sympathy with their enthusiasms. Do not allow yourselves to sneer at their Quixotisms and wild ideas, because you once had the same, and have learnt how foolish they were.

In middle life we are apt to become selfish, to consider increasingly our ease, our comfort, our possessions; to think less of what would be the true and best thing for society than of what would be most lucrative or most safe for ourselves. Our love of "stability” is often little other than a form of selfishness. "Let be, ye restless, reforming souls; we are suited with things as they are; why should there be any change? It might not be half so well for us; at all events, would be inconvenient and disturbing. We have gained and achieved prosperity under the old order, and protest, therefore, against its being superseded by a new."

"Oh woodman, spare that tree!
Touch not a single bough;
In youth it sheltered me
And I'll protect it now."

To the men amongst us who have been
successful, I would say, do not suffer your
success to tempt you to make your own
comfort the standard of right.
Look upon
the things of others. Retain and cherish
the generosity, if you have outlived the
passion and dreams of youth. Be capable
still of forgetting yourselves in sympathy
with the cause of humanity. Let nothing
be more real or more certain to you than
man's divine sonship and heirship, and the
supremacy of character and moral worth.
Let nothing be to you so authoritative or
beautiful, and nothing so precious, as truth;
in aid of which walk in daily communion
with Christ; contemplate Him, sit at His
feet. None will be likely to lose trust in the
human, or to fail from worship of the good;
none will be likely to sink into a state in
which their secular prospects or investments
shall be more thought of than truth and
righteousness; none will be likely to grow
sensual, cynical, hard, or unduly conserva-
tive as they grow older, who are wont to
set Christ before them, and to walk often in
retirement with Him. He will give you
the dew of your youth; He will preserve your
heart fresh and pure.

VII. N.S.

THE SUMMER THAT IS PAST.

OUR paths are all deserted,

Our roses all have died;

In some dim spot, frequented not,
The winter violets hide ;

But leaves that lisped above your head

Are scattered by the blast,

And the swallow's glancing wing has fled,
For summer time is past.

O for the wild wood shadows,
Solemn, and cool, and sweet!

That flowery way from day to day
Was trodden by your feet;

But now across the moss-grown sod

No golden lights are cast,

And the little feet went home to God
When summer time was past.

I cannot read the poems

Your voice has made too dear,
Nor tread again that ferny lane

I loved when you were here;
But One will take my weary hand
And hold me, safe and fast,
Till I find in His own fatherland
The summer that is past.

SARAH DOUDNEY.

22

BY

THOMAS ERSKINE OF LINLATHEN.
BY THE REV. W. DORLING.

the death of Thomas Erskine of supporter of the Prince of Orange; but Linlathen on the 20th of March, 1870, while devoted to William, had great scruples a large blank was made in a circle of devoted in respect to the oaths of allegiance and friends and followers. Erskine had not abjuration, because of what he felt to be the taken any particular share in what we call countenance which would be given by such public life, for he had abandoned his profes- acts to the connection of the Church of sion as an Advocate very early; and had not England with the State. The King was too assumed any prominent position before the sensible to make much of his refusal, as he world, nor had he written many books. knew him to be a faithful supporter. His Some of those books had made a very deep uncle was the celebrated Dr. John Erskine, impression on the minds of certain readers; the eminent author and preacher, who for and especially one of them which had passed fifty years was the centre of a large religious through many editions. But Erskine's in- circle, and had among his correspondents fluence was not owing to any literary talent, such men as Bishops Warburton and Hurd but to the hold which he gained over those in England; Jonathan Edwards and Dr. who came in his way by his own personal Cotton Mather in America, and many attraction and character. His books had eminent continental divines. Dr. Hanna been welcomed by not a few thoughtful considers that Dr. Erskine, "more perhaps and devout minds in all the Churches; than any other individual, contributed to but some of them were scarcely known whatever progress literature made in Scotland, beyond the circle which was immediately during the last half of the eighteenth affected by his personal influence. Having century." We have not space to indicate the attained a patriarchal age, and wearing other numerous and excellent connections in beautiful simplicity the most benign of Mr. Erskine's family. Having been at Christian virtues, he was a man to envy. school in Durham, Thomas Erskine was He had lived long enough to see a marvel- entered as a student in the University of lous alteration in the attitude and expression Edinburgh, where he attended the law of Christian thought, and to rejoice over the classes, and was admitted a member of the complete triumph of some of those views of Faculty of Advocates in 1810, and remained truth which, in the judgment of most in Edinburgh for the next six years. Christian men, brighten the face of God and formed many pleasant associations in the strengthen the hopes of man. He had city which stimulated and enlarged his mind. taken part, in a quiet but most serviceable While he attended the Parliament House, way, in many of the struggles which had Walter Scott was daily sitting as one of the been waged in the Church of Scotland for clerks of the Court of Session, and the greater freedom of thought, and was the Edinburgh Review was at the height of its faithful friend and loving counsellor of some fame. In his early manhood he had misof the ablest of the champions in those con- givings of a sceptical nature in respect to the flicts. gospel history; but "by patient study of the narrative, and of its place in the history of the world," he was led into a conviction of its truth. We gather that from early life his mind was peculiarly under the impression of all events which seemed to bring him into nearer contact with the spiritual world. The removal of friends by death produced a deep effect upon him. This was particularly the case when his brother James died of typhus fever in 1816 at the age of twenty-eight. This brother he greatly venerated, although he was but a year older than himself. His memory of him was fresh and green even in his latest years. By his death the succession to the estate of Linlathen fell to Thomas, and he left Edinburgh and bade farewell to

Mr. Erskine's admirers will be more than grateful for the recently published volumes of his letters.* The editor tells briefly the story of his early life, and, to use his own expression, "interlaces his letters occasionally with illustrative narrative, that by its setting, the mirror may be made to reflect as clearly and fully as possible the pure bright image of one, who moved so lovingly and attractively among his fellow-men; who walked so closely and constantly with God." Erskine owned a noble ancestry. His great grandfather, Colonel John Erskine, was a warm friend and

"Letters of Thomas Erskine of Linlathen." Edited by William Hanna, D.D. David Douglas, Edinburgh.

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