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should be their meeting place; and when he could to forward the young man's the hour came they had gone to different literary projects, strongly counselled him stations. Each set off for the great city, to return to Scotland and follow out the believing that something had come -in course his parents wished, and become a the way of the
other to prevent him. minister. But this David could not think With the manuscript of his poem of of. London must be his home; literature the "Luggie” in his carpet-bag, and with his vocation. Mr. Milnes, seeing his dea sovereign and a few shillings in his termination, gave him some literary work pocket, David Grey arrived at the metro- to do, and endeavoured, but in vain, to polis. Though the month was May, the get the "Luggie" accepted by the editor weather was damp and cloudy, and his of one of the leading journals. first morning in London broke dull and Meanwhile, the lad's health grew drear: For hours he wandered the streets worse, and it soon became apparent that he with his carpet-bag in his hand, chilled was seriously, if not dangerously, ill. He to the heart with toidnavat jos Weather
ciste nomasi to doing a had before this the sense of his pu ai oficje ook
zobuídos a time met with loneliness. 19 viia lodeon
his friend Robert
998 I Won Full of strange un tiem,
olene Jasihi Buchanan, and dreams, and renten
the two calling all her
e lodging together knew of those of
wat in what he calls whose names are
is the dear old linked with that
ghastlybankrupt of the great city,
garret,”: whose he paced the
discomfort streets all day
hardlyhavefailed long. At night,
to aggravate the instead of seek
y poorinvalid's dising out some lodging, he
se ease. Everything made his way to Hyde Park.
y that friendship It would save a few penceu
o could do, Mr. of his little hoard, to spend ta
id Milnes did for the night there, and it would only a fim Toa od tani the Scottish lad, be só romantic: a fit com
DAVID GRAY'S MONUMENT.
with a disintemencement of a poet's career
rested kindness in mighty. London.
that warms one's heart to read of it, for There seems every reason to believe claim the lad had none upon him, and that this exposure sowed the seeds of the their sole connection had been through disease that was so soon to cut him off, those strange impassioned letters which or, perhaps, rather wakened to life and David had addressed to him before yet activity the germs of disease already he left his northern home. The best lurking in his frame. Within a few days medical skill was obtained, and many a he wrote home to his father that he had time Mr. Milnes climbed the rickety stair taken the worst cold ever he had in his that led to the old garret, carrying with life, and could not shake it off.
him some little comfort or delicacy for After his arrival in London, he had the pale dark eyed boy. sought out two or three gentlemen with By-and-by, the home-sickness came whom he had previously corresponded. upon David. Home he must be, and Among these, Lord Houghton, then Mr. home he was sent, and tenderly and Monckton Milnes, who, while doing all | lovingly was he received. The barrier
that had arisen between them was burst die there, and nobody shall nurse me except my asunder, now that he had crept home own dear mother, ever, ever again. O home, home,
home!" sick unto death. The parents looked on his past way
The same pining for home found exwardness with a new tolerance, and the pression in verse, beautiful as it was son upon his parent's love with a new sadappreciation. This change in himself “ Come to me, O my mother! come to me, David was not slow to express, and he Thine own son, slowly dying far away! expressed it in words which many a
Through the moist ways of the wide ocean,
blown careless son and daughter would do well
By great invisible winds, come stately ships to read and ponder over
To this calm bay for quiet anchorage ; “ O living sons with living mothers ! learn
They come, they rest awhile, they go away ; Their worth, and use them gently, with no
But, O my mother, never comest thou ! chiding:
The snow is round thy dwelling; the white For youth, I know is quick of temper; stern
That cold soft revelation pure as light, Sometimes, and apt to blunder without
And the pine spire is mystically fringed, guiding.
Laced with encrusted silver. Here-ah me!So was I long, but now I see her move,
The winter is decrepit, underborn, Transfigured in the radiant mist of love."
A leper with no power but his disease. Now that he was home again,
Why am I from thee, mother, far from thee?
Far from the frost enchantments and the woods became apparent that he could not live Jewelled from bough to bough? Ob, home, in the keen cold air of the north. . Natal was recommended as a place for the
O river in the valley of my home, invalid to go to; Jamaica-Italy; but
With mazy-winding motion intricate,
Twisting thy deathless music underneath the great difficulty was, it was beyond
The polished ice-work-must I never more the power of his parents to defray the Behold thee with familiar eyes, and watch cost of such a journey.
Thy beauty changing with the changeful day, Kind friends were not lacking, how
Thy beauty constant to the constant change?”
Torquay, Jan. 2, 1861. ever. Mr. Milnes, Sidney Dobell, the poet (a friend he never saw), and others It was midwinter when he reached did their utmost to obtain such change as home, and he felt the cold keenly and would be best for him. They came to cruelly. Yet feeble as he was and deaththe conclusion at last to send him to the stricken, the end was not for a time. Consumption Hospital at Torquay. Alas! It was not till the beginning of the sight of others in all stages of December that the battle of life came to decline was too much for his sensitive a close, and all that was mortal of him nature. Home-sickness came upon him was carried from his home at Makland again, nay, a longing that might better to its final resting-place in the “auld be called home-madness. He rushed aisle." from the hospital, and from the hotel, Meanwhile, all through spring, sumaddressed to his parents as pathetic letter mer, and autumn, a wondrous Divine perhaps as was ever written. In it he process seems to have been going on in says
his mind. Except his own writings, we “O how I wish I saw my father's face shall I
have very little means of tracing the ever see it? I have no money, and I want to get course of it. There is nothing to tell home, home, home! What shall I do, o God? when or how he was spiritually awakened, Father
, I did not use you rightly; my conduct to yet manifestly he was awakened; nothing you all
the time I was at home makes me miserable, directly to show how spiritual life origi, I ask that ?-forgiven, forgiven, forgiven. Get nated in his soul; yet, the undoubted my own little room ready-quick, quick. I wish to signs of spiritual life are visible.
In some way he began to see, not less he thinks of Christ, the life and resurof nature, but more of God, as his verse rectionbears evidence. Thus he writes upon a
“I fear not death but dying,'—not the long winter day, when the snow lay white
Hereafter, sweetened by immortal love; around
But the quick, terrible last breath—the strong “Once more, O God, once more before I die,
Convulsion. Oh, my Lord of breath above! Before blind darkness and the wormy grave
Grant me a quiet end, in easeful restContain me, and my memory fades away
A sweet removal on my mother's breast.” Like a sweet-coloured evening, slowly, sadOnce more, O God, Thy wonders take my soul.”
Thus his spiritual experience is mir
rored in the sonnets which he wrote “I have not words to speak the perfect show; during that long year of slow dying. The ravishment of beauty; the delight Of silent purity; the sanctity
Of these, the last is the best, and the Of inspiration which oe'rflows the world, light that shines from it the clearest. Making it breathless with divinity.
There is no word of death in it. He
All around as caught a glimpse of the beauty of Is loving and continuous Deity;
holiness, and is looking towards God that His mercy over all His works remains."
he may be satisfiedAt first, the thought of death was very “0 Thou of purer eyes than to behold terrible to him, and all the more because Uncleanness, sift my soul, removing all of the light in which he saw his past Strange thoughts, imaginings fantastical, life, of which he speaks as being so much
Iniquitous allurements manifold. lacking in what constituted true life,
Make it into a spiritual. ark; abode that it was
Severely sacred, perfumed, sanctified,
Wherein the Prince of Purities may abide “ Rather a piece of childhood thrown away.”
The holy and eternal Spirit of God.
The gross adhesive loathsomeness of sin Earnestly he prayed that more years
Give me to see. Yet, О far more, far more,
That beautiful purity which the saints adore might be granted him; that his life here
In a consummate paradise within might become more what with the new The veil–O Lord, upon my soul bestow, light that shone on it he wished it to be. An earnest of that purity here below.” He had entered upon the strife of which the apostle speaks, when he says, " The
Thus he drew nearer unto his change, good that I would I do not: but the evil and the hour when he should .part from which I would not, that I do,” and moans those friends he loved so well. His own forth his plaint concerning the “mystery experience can be no better described of strife” wherein
than in his own words, wherein he tells
the experience of another, a relative, who “Reason with Passion strives, and Feeling ever had passed away years before himselfBattles with conscience.”
6 Thus his time And as he looked from the strange
Narrowed to a completion, and his soul, chaos within, he saw the dread solemnity Immortal in its nature, through his eyes of death, and cried
Yearning, beheld the majesty of Him
Great in his mystery of godliness, “O God, it is a terrible thing to die Fulfiller of the dim Apocalypse."
Into the inextinguishable life."
During the months when he was of death
slowly sinking, his friends — Sidney
Dobeil and others, had been arranging “ Thus in false fear, I cried
for the publication of his poems. On the Forgetting that to abolish death Christ died.”
2nd of December, a specimen page was The fear of death passes from him, as put into his hand. He gazed at it a long while with a sad yet tender smile he had come also to know his Saviour. on his face, and then put it aside. On Christ was to him one who had abolished the next day he passed away in peace, death, and his soul yearned to behold with these as his dying words
the majesty of the great Fulfiller. Nor “ God has love, and I have faith.”.
was the Holy Spirit forgotten in his
creed. One entire sonnet, as we have Such was the expression of his hope, seen, the last, is addressed unto the an expression true to the Christian faith, Spirit of God, and breathes forth the and so comprehensive, that it would be deepest desire that by that Spirit he impossible, in fewer words, to express might be purified and made holy. the hope of a Christian, and the founda- Thus earthly life closed on one greatly tion that it rests upon. He had known gifted, and he passed away in human sin, and he had come to hate it and abhor incompleteness to find completeness in it. That line wherein he speaks of
Him in Whom dwells all the fulness
of God. He departed with the passionate “The gross adhesive loathsomeness of sin.”
thirst of his soul to drink of life at its could have been written only by one fountain. head. For, as he said in an who had come to see and feel the true epitaph which he wrote for himself nature of sin. As a picture of what sin (not that placed upon his tombstone, is to a soul struggling against it, that which was written by other hands) line stands unrivalled. He who wrote
“ There is life with God it knew and felt what sin was.
In other kingdom of a sweeter air; But if he had come to know his sin, 'In Eden every flower is blown. Amen.",
R. R. THOM.
For the Young.
THE PISTOL: a Story of Disobedience.
T is a densely hot his hat, and slowly rubbing his hot forehead, with August day, and a large blue and white cotton handkerchief; “it the clock of the must be nigh on fifty-six-no, it's fifty-seven years village church at this autumn since I left off going to that school over Wethered is strik- there," and he nodded towards the school opposite ing twelve in clear to them ; “fifty-seven years is a long time to look and sonorous tones. back upon, but I can remember it all as well as Before it is half- though 'twas but last week. I was a well-grown way through its lad in those days, with a pleasant face and handtask, the murmur some blue eyes; and I was the best cricketer in. and buzz of voices the whole school, and had the sweetest voice of in the adjacent any of the boys or girls in the village. I was school "house, is always the one chosen to lead the carols at Christdrowned in the mas time, or the harvest hymn, when the last loads general rising of were drawn in by the light of the great yellow the school from harvest moon. I held a good place in the school their seats, and in too, and was mostly at the head of my class the
anotherinstant the last months. Oh, I was a happy boy in those days, whole troop of boys and girls rush forth, rejoiced but I did not always think so, and was often to escape from the hot room and the lessons--out wishing for something I hadn't got. My father on to the green, where they have the cool grass was a farmer, in a small way, you know, but he under their feet, and the thick shade of big elm managed to live pretty comfortable, and to keep trees above their heads. They have been sitting me at school till I was twelve years old. My quiet for three hours in a close room, and are great desire was to be a gamekeeper. I thought overflowing with spirits and fun at the prospect it would be so grand to have a velveteen coat, and of two hours' freedom and scamper across the carry a gun, and perhaps have a couple of lovely grass.
dogs trotting obediently at my heels, as I had seen It seemed too hot to play. The sun was blazing the young retrievers and pointers trot after the down on the white road that ran past the village squire's gamekeeper. Then I should have to go green with almost blinding power, whilst a still out with parties of gentlemen, and beat up the hot haze lay over the surrounding fields. The game; and altogether I thought it would be a children, too restless to remain quiet long unoccu- most exciting and delightful life, and I made up my pied, were beginning to wonder what they could mind, without asking anybody, or telling anybody play at until the bell rang for afternoon school, my longings, that I would be a gamekeeper. I when they saw a funny little, bent old man, coming knew very well that my father wanted me to be a along the hot dusty road. They waited until he farmer like himself: moreover, he had a great was close to them when a chorus of voices shouted horror of boys using firearms—the only thing of out:
the kind he had was an old horse pistol that hung “Good morning, old Timothy. How are you, over the mantel-shelf in his bedroom ; sometimes old Timothy ? ”
be used to let me look at it, and even handle it, The old man stopped, turned round slowly, and when he was cleaning it; but he had often forlooked at them.
bidden me to touch it by myself. Now I knew I “ Would you like to hear a story ?” he asked. could never be a gamekeeper if I couldn't shoot,
Oh, yes!” shouted all the children at once, so I used to practise at aiming at birds with a clapping their hands.
crossbow that I had, and I used to knock down * Would you like to hear how I got so ugly and sparrows easily with my bits of baccy pipe ; but crooked ?”
somehow or another that did not seem to content “Yes, yes, yes," again answered the children me, and I used to hanker after that pistol, so that joyfully.
the thought of it was never out of my head for Very well, then. I'll tell you. Mayhaps it'll long together. I did so want just to try if I could be a warning to some amongst ye.”
kill a bird with it, and I thought and thought
about it till at last I felt I really must try it. I “Let me see,” he said thoughtfully, taking off | knew I could manage very well without my father