and it is on this account, and failing anything in the shape of a journal, or any memoranda which would bring out his domestic character, that it has been felt necessary to invade, in some measure, the sanctity of the hallowed intercourse between husband and wife, in order to do justice to his character. To omit reference to this would seem ungrateful to Him who so graciously bestowed the companionship of one who was so richly endowed with all that is estimable. "It still remains, in endeavouring to draw the picture of his domestic life, to say a few words of what he was as a master. How readily would every one who has ever been under his roof, come forward to testify to his patience, his gentleness, his consideration. He entered into all the family joys and sorrows of his domestics, and looked upon them as friends, rather than servants. I do not remember a hasty word ever escaping his lips towards any of them, and the love and respect which they entertained for him, testify to the truth of what has been said. 'My dear master,' was the utterance of their hearts when speaking of him, and how much they now miss the cheering, comforting, heart-stirring word which he daily gave to them. Often when they left the room, after family worship, they would exclaim to each other, 'Well, I am sure our dear master has given us a word to strengthen us for the day's work.' Never was master more deeply mourned, or more sincerely missed. "After the death of our firstborn, it pleased God to bestow upon us another dear child, who will willingly bear her testimony to what her father was to her in her childish and youthful days. And when, only three months before his sudden removal, she herself became a widow, how thankfully did she return to her old home, and to the tender, loving sympathy of that precious father. Her testimony is as follows: : "No words of mine could ever tell what he was as a father. From my earliest days my recollections of him are bright beyond description. Every association with him is blessed, every memory of him is joy. I cannot call to mind a single instance in which he spoke to me in any but the most tender and loving tones. He was ever gentle, patient, and forbearing with me. When he felt an action was wrong and required reproof, his very reproof was sweeter than the approbation of others would have been. There was in it so much of the spirit of his heavenly Master, so much of the tenderness of the heavenly Father, so much of the gentleness of Christ, that one could only feel he had indeed held communion with the skies, and those who heard could not but testify that he had "been with Jesus." "Who can describe the depths of his loving heart, tender and full of affection to us all. I can never remember a shadow passing between us in all the years that God spared him to us. I used to think often that I could not have lived, if the sunshine of that love were withdrawn from me. But it never was, even for a single moment. In all my childish troubles, and in all the difficulties and perplexities of later life, I always found him the same; ready in a moment to throw aside everything, and give his whole heart to help or comfort me; ready to enter into every joy, and to sympathize in every sorrow. A trouble. told to him was generally a trouble gone; so marvellous was his depth of sympathy, and his unvarying power of finding, in every trouble, light beyond. His heart was ever "up there," in the calm peace of the heavenly home; and the abiding restfulness of his spirit made itself especially felt among us at home. He seemed to brighten all he touched, and to give a zest and a joy to things which would have otherwise been commonplace, so strong was the instinct of his loving sympathy. He threw himself, heart and soul, into everything that was interesting to us, giving it, at once, the sparkling charm of his own bright spirit. "I well remember hearing him read and explain to me the Pilgrim's Progress, when I was only about five years old; and, child as I was, I shall never forget the expression of his countenance, as he dwelt on some of its most blessed truths, especially on that glorious passage where the Dreamer sees the Pilgrim entering the celestial city, whose "bells rang again for joy;" and of which it is so exquisitely added-" which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them!" He seemed, in truth, to me as one who always lived within sound of those bells, and within sight of the celestial city. It was the home of his heart, whither all his thoughts were turned. "He ever endeavoured to carry out the Master's injunction-"Judge not "—and to live in the spirit of that land of which it is sweetly said "There is no place where earth's sorrows Are more felt than up in heaven; There is no place where earth's failings His power of attracting hearts to himself, and winning confidence from others, made itself, of course, especially felt at home. I do not think I ever had a thought or a feeling which I could not tell to him. Up to the very last, his tenderness was unspeakable. In the hours of desolation and loneliness, his voice was ever at hand with sweet words of heavenly brightness and joy-helping one to realize that all these things were but "passing away," while the Rest remains. "It seemed indeed, amid many harassing cares and anxieties, as if he had already entered upon the enjoyment of that rest, so perfect was his trust in the wisdom and love of his heavenly Father. But a very few days before he was "called up higher," he was talking earnestly of the joys of the heavenly home, and I shall ever remember the rapt look in his eye as he dwelt upon the blessed thought of the "home beyond;" while none of us can ever forget the earnestness of his prayers (only two days before his death) that we, as "stones of the spiritual temple," might be meetly polished and prepared, day by day, for the place which was being prepared for us there, adding, with intense feeling, "and may that work in us be completed very soon!" "I could dwell long upon these blessed memories of a father, such as few have been privileged to call their own, but space forbids. It will be only as I come to the places by the wayside, which were wont to be brightened by his smile, that I shall realize, in the fullest sense, all that I have lost. Thank God! we can indeed rejoice in knowing that he is "not lost, but gone be-passed into the "presence of the King"-while we "tarry yet a little longer in the anteroom among the shadows." "His unvarying love and tenderness will ever be among the sweetest memories of my life; while his intense sympathy with me in my deep sorrow is beyond my power to describe. "When, from my own desolate home, I brought back to him my little fatherless girl, how he took her to his heart! and, during the three remaining months of his life, we can never forget his daily, earnest prayers on her behalf, and his intense and ever-increasing love for her. "The memory of the just is blessed"-and to my latest day I shall have to bless God for having given me, in the love of my earthly father, such bright and holy teaching regarding the heavenly Father, enabling me better to understand His patience and forbearance; and, remembering what my father's smile was in the earthly home, to be able, in some faint degree, to understand what it will be to bask throughout eternity in the sunshine of God's love, whose "presence" shall be our "everlasting light," when the days of our mourning shall be for ever ended."" Not a few who are left behind can testify to the worth and the warmth of Mr. Drummond's friendship. The kindly smile, the loving word, and the warm hand-grasp, will not soon be forgotten. His power of sympathy, both in joy and sorrow, was so great, that it enabled him to win the love and the confidence of many. That his experience of sorrow had not been little is seen from his own words to me :— I am obliged to go to the country this afternoon, to aid in committing to the grave all that remains of my poor sister-in-law. Alas! what desolations have been made by death among us recently within one year, my brother, his eldest son, and now his widow. Within the last eighteen years I have lost sixteen relatives. Alas! the grave is never satisfied. Thanks be to God, however, who giveth us the victory. The grave is opened before his people, that through it, as the gate, they may pass to |