Her own studies, to which she applied herself with ardour and delight, were not confined to the branches of knowledge already mentioned. She devoted much attention to the polite literature of Britain, and especially to its poetry, to which she was passionately attached, the beauties and sublimities of which she appreciated, and which awoke all the tenderest sympathies of her soul. Religious poetry, as worthy of the emotions which its loftiest inspiration excites, met with her greatest attention; and she was enriched with its treasures to a degree which I have never seen surpassed. With civil and ecclesiastical history, she had an intimate acquaintance; and on the wonderful providences therein unfolded and illustrated, she could descant in a strain at once philosophical and devout. The most profound theological works she read with avidity, though, as she afterwards regretted, she gave for some time the preference in her attention to those which are more distinguished for the independence of their speculations, and the subtleties and intricacies of their metaphysics, than for their faithful collection of the divine testimony scattered throughout the pages of revelation, their legitimate deductions from that testimony, and their powerful application of it for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, and instruction in righteousness. In the ancient language of Rome, she had made considerable progress. Through the medium of their native tongues, she became familiar with the best authors of France and Italy. The German literature she studied as far as translations and a slight knowledge of the language could carry her. The romance of Indian mythology and philosophy, as unfolded by the incomparable Jones, the learned and imaginative Maurice, and the critical and philosophical Schlegel, who all, to a great extent, over-estimate its importance, had much of her consideration; and this study, on being corrected by her personal observation and research in Hindustan, ultimately proved available for the accomplishment of much good. Her knowledge, so extensive, was not merely deposited in her mind, but associated in every form with the exercise of her own thought and feeling. Her imagination and memory, her genius and judgment, were alike admired by all who enjoyed her acquaintance.

CHAPTER II.

DEATH

OF HER

FATHER-SANCTIFIED

AFFLICTION-LETTERS ADMINISTERING

CHRISTIAN COMFORT-BENEVOLENT ENGAGEMENTS IN GREENOCK-ESTIMATE OF
WORLDLY ENJOYMENTS-A PARENT'S FORM
CONTEMPLATED-DEPARTURE FROM

GREENOCK-RESIDENCE IN INVERNESS-SHIRE.

WE have mentioned the progress which Margaret Bayne had made in literary studies, and the effects which, in consequence of the manner in which they had been pursued, they produced, for a short time, on her moral feelings. We have now to view her as learning in a new school, that of salutary, because sanctified, affliction. Under the severe trials which we are about to notice, she could experimentally appropriate to herself the language of the poet :

Talk of retirement? Academic shades,

The student's chamber, and the midnight lamp,
The storied hall, where learning holds her seat?
There is a place which teaches better far,

Where some have learn'd who never learn'd before;
And all, who in that solemn sanctuary

Read, and read rightly the deep book unveil'd,

Bear wisdom high and sanctified away:

It is, THE SILENT CHAMBER OF THE DEAD!

There have I now been taught how painfully!
But grant me, gracious Spirit, by whose aid
Alone all teaching blesses, that the shaft,

Shot through the heart, may bring diviner health!

EDMESTONE.

"I now come," says Miss to whose notes we have been already much indebted, "to that affecting period when her dear father's services in the lower sanctuary being concluded, his Divine Master suddenly issued the invitation, 'Come up hither.' The last Sabbath of his life, he assisted at the dispensation of the

Lord's Supper at Glasgow. He took a part in almost every service, and was unusually earnest and affectionate. At this time he was accompanied by dear Margaret. She afterwards told me, that early in the morning of the Communion Sabbath, he tapped at her room door, and coming in, he began to converse with her on the subject of that day's approaching solemnity. He spoke of the duty of self-examination and of prayer. He said, that unless these were performed, not as a task, but in the Spirit, no one could be prepared to sit down at that table, and partake of the symbols of a Saviour's broken body and shed blood. He then spoke of the ordinance as a sweet foretaste of heavenly enjoyments; and he seemed to experience the highest anticipations of that state of blessedness on which he was so soon to enter. He then, with great solemnity, gave Margaret a token of admission to the Lord's table, and said, he trusted she would there meet Him who was especially set forth in that ordinance. He kneeled down and prayed with such fervour, that Margaret told me that when he rose to depart, she felt such a tumult of overpowering emotion, that she could only say, with a burst of tears, ‘Dear papa, pray for me.'

“It was agreed, that on the following Thursday I was to accompany him and Margaret to Greenock. On the afternoon of Wednesday, he told Margaret that he felt unwell, and proposed returning home immediately, and that we should follow next day, when he hoped to meet us on the quay. But, alas! what was the scene that awaited us? He was stretched upon the bed of death, though at the time we knew not that it was such. His sufferings were intense: but his mind was at peace. I have no doubt he knew that he had entered the Jordan, and that the ark of the blessed covenant was full in his view. The few words he was able to speak, were full of submission, of confidence, of that hope which maketh not ashamed. On that sad night, most of us went to bed, little thinking what was at hand. In the morning of Friday the 13th April 1821, we were awakened by the first sounds of lamentation and grief. He had departed, -the chariot of Israel had conveyed away his spirit, and all that was left to us was the precious dust of one we so much loved. This was a scene never to be described. To us, it was enveloped in thick

darkness.

To him it was the bright and glorious morning of an everlasting day. It is impossible to speak of the state of any mind under a stroke so sudden, so appalling. But two letters received when my dear friend became capable of exercising her mind, will show that this affliction, though for the present not joyous, but grievous, did afterwards work in her subdued heart the peaceable fruits of righteousness." These letters are the following :

"GREENOCK, 24th May 1821.

"I promised to write to you, my beloved friend, but the agitated state of my feelings rendered me incapable till now of even this slight degree of exertion. You, my dear friend, were with us on that morning which is associated in our minds with such bitter and agonising recollections. You witnessed the first paroxysms of our sorrow, and you can picture, in idea, our subsequent feelings, when the thought of its yet being an illusive dream had completely gone off. I shall not describe our feelings at that period. There is a state of mental suffering which not only paralyses the energies of thought, but which seems even to give a temporary suspension to its operations. Such was the state of our minds after we parted with you, and at the time we received your affectionate and consolatory letter.

"You do not say with many around us, Weep not! This is like the mockery of woe; but you are acquainted with the inward sources of sorrow, and know that it results from the unalterable constitution of our minds. You have known the tender and endearing relation which subsists between a beloved parent and child, and can form some idea of the piercing pangs which must attend the separation. Our loss is irreparable! It is unspeakably great. We have not only lost a father tenderly alive to the feelings of parental affection, but we have lost our instructor and guide, the dearest of our earthly relatives! Oh! is it indeed possible that my beloved father is no longer an inhabitant of this world; that the hours of delightful enjoyment, when we conversed familiarly with him, are gone for ever; and that we must tread the thorny path of life without his instructions and without his prayers! My heart bleeds—it rends;

and were there no hopes beyond this transitory existence, I feel as if I could take refuge in the grave, and for ever close my eyes on the scenes of this world. But why do I distress you, my dearest friend? You suffered with us, and let us together pause for a moment to consider that there is a God who ruleth in the earth, that the events of Providence are appointed and fixed in his eternal councils, and that they result from his infinite and unerring wisdom. This consideration ought of itself to reconcile us, in some measure, to the vicissitudes and changes of our earthly life; but we have also a theme of delightful contemplation, in the certainty that the object of our warmest affections is now enjoying perfect and uninterrupted felicity; that he is in the possession of happiness, compared to which, earthly joys fade into insignificance, or appear only as a modification of that woe which has given its signature and stamp to our physical and moral condition. It is true, indeed, that our limited conception can no more form an adequate notion of unlimited enjoyment, than our finite understanding can comprehend Him who is infinite. The language employed to give us a representation of this happiness, is, for the most part, metaphorical; but it combines every object of possession and desire, which enters into our idea of perfect good. And who can think for a moment of that throne which is in the midst of Paradise; of the river, pure as crystal, which issues from it; or of the tree of life, which is beautifully descriptive of the boundless diversities of knowledge that shall be laid open to us, without feeling emotions of delight and awe? But, above all, who can pass from these objects to the contemplation of Him who is the source of all their perfection, and who, in uncreated glory and beauty, presides over them, without being lost in admiration and speechless joy? O, then, let us not gaze on the dark side of the cloud, when a scene of such bright and unclouded majesty opens beyond it! Let us not fix our thoughts on the fleeting objects of time, when they are already receding from our view, and when eternity, in its endlessness of duration, is every succeeding moment coming nearer to us. Let us not look to the grave as if it were the termination and boundary of