of regeneration in the soul, that we have to do; and the whole of his future career placed it beyond question, that he had been born from above, and been made a partaker of the life of God.

Having received the elements of a general education, he entered, at the early age of twelve years, the grammar school of his native city, in which his mental development soon became conspicuous, and his progress in the various branches of classical study was not more rapid than real. In this academy the regular term of study is five years; but at the end of his fourth year, young Maitland, at the suggestion and by the advice of the rector of the school, entered the University, and became a student in Marischal College, of which the now venerable Dr. Dewar was principal as well as one of the professors. Here his application, | perseverance, and success, were equally conspicuous; and after four years he graduated, and took his Master of Arts degree with honours. But notwithstanding his early impressions, and his subsequent attainments in polite learning, he had hitherto kept back from making any public profession of his faith in Christ. Instead, therefore, of passing from the Faculty of Arts to the Divinity Hall, as a step preparatory to the work of the ministry, we find him accepting a scholastic engagement in Cheltenham, to which, without solicitation, he had been heartily recommended by Principal Dewar. This brought him into immediate and healthful contact with my esteemed friend the Rev. Dr. Brown, whose loving heart he won, and who ever looked upon him "as a son in the Gospel." He kindly took him by the hand, and by his words of counsel and encouragement, he effectually overcame that fear of himself, arising out of his youth and inexperience, which amounted to almost a sinful distrust, and induced him, at the age of twenty, to connect himself with the church under his pastoral care. This was a positive advantage to young Maitland. In Dr. Brown he found a friend and a counsellor, and in his ministry a power to quicken and stimulate his inner spiritual life. With this higher vitality

came the desire for wider activity, and with his heart set on more direct efforts in connexion with the church and the kingdom of Christ, he was led by the advice of Dr. Brown to seek admission into New College, London, as a theological student. Here he spent two years in those pursuits which were deemed most necessary for ministerial qualification and service; and not only did he commend himself by his personal character and moral worth, his intellectual attainments and promise of future devotedness, to the esteem and confidence of his professors, but to the love and friendship of his fellow-students. Of this fact I might adduce many pleasing instances; but the following testimony from one who was his class-mate, and who won for himself a proud preeminence for his attainments, will speak more emphatically in favour of my late friend than any words of mine :

"It was impossible for any one to be much with him without being drawn to him. There was heart in all that he did. He was peculiarly affable in manners, and genial in spirit. His demeanour was marked by a simplicity and candour, and occasionally by an exuberance of joy, which proclaimed to all with whom he associated, that with the cultivation and maturity of a Christian man, he continued to possess the spirit of a child. I recollect that he came to New College furnished with a considerable portion of secular knowledge, and that during hi stay he was persevering in his theological pursuits; that he took a lively interest in our debating society, and spoke at its meetings; that he entered into everything which affected the interests of the students, and at all times diffused a cheerful and brotherly influence through our society.

"I felt the news of his death as if it had been the loss of a near relative. I had always regarded him as one of the happiest and most useful of the young ministers of our day; and I had read with delight the accounts which every now and then appeared in our public journals of his progress and success. Nor can I easily forget the impression I received from a visit I once paid him at Sunderland. It was evident that he unreserved affection, and that he lived loved his work and his people with an for them. With undisguised delight he introduced me to his study, his commo

dious chapel and schools, and the neighbourhood in which he lived-the scenes severally of his home, pulpit, and pastoral labours. He spoke particularly of his efforts and success in changing his church meetings from mere formal business gatherings into refreshing means of grace. In all he said it was plain that his aim was to utilize to the utmost every power within his reach for the service of Christ; to make everything connected with his work real and fruitful; and to have streams of life and blessing flowing through every channel which Providence had opened."

I claim not for my departed friend anything approaching to prodigious powers of mind, or daring genius, or colossal greatness; still he is not to be thought of as the subject of that mere mediocrity which leaves a man just where we find him, and has nothing prophetic of future progress and eminence. He stood far above it, and had his life been spared he would have come to occupy some higher position in the church of God. With his mind well disciplined and richly furnished, and bearing with him the most satisfactory testimonials from the heads of the college, he left the seat of learning for the more laborious duties and the weightier responsibilities of the pastoral relation. By a series of concurring circumstances, in which he did not fail to see the hand of God pointing out to him his future course, he was induced to aecept the all but unanimous call of the church in Sunderland to undertake the office of the pastorate which had become vacant by the recent removal of the Rev. R. S. McAll to Leicester. In the ments which led to this settlement in that prosperous town, in 1855, Mr. McAll took an active part; and we have it from his own lips, that he counts it an honour to have had any part in introducing him to his former charge, and to have shared in the joyous solemnities of his ordination day. Nor this only. He testifies that, while the genial kindness of his successor to himself will never be forgotten, that successor came among the people "with the ardour of manhood's prime, and that to them he became ever more dear by his active devotedness, his deepening experience, and his expanding

arrange

| sympathies; that the fruits of his ever advancing acquaintance with his Master. became theirs in richer abundance; that new evidences of sanctifying power and converting grace attending his ministrations from the pulpit, called forth warmer ascriptions to Him who sent one of His true servants among them; that in their household circles, his love had all the strength and all the influence of kindred ties; that the young found in him at once an intellectual leader, and one who, with brotherly openness and warmth, could enter into all their aspirations; that the very children, with brightening countenances, rushed to meet him; that in the afflictions and perplexities of all, he was indeed the representative of the ever-living Consoler." This is no exaggeration. The portrait is true to life, and every one who had the happiness of knowing the original will at once recognise the features here so faithfully delineated. There was a symmetry in his character not more beautiful than real-a tout ensemble not more attractive than undeniable.

In proof of this assertion it is only. necessary to adduce the following testimonies, embodied by Mr. McAll in his funeral sermon. The first is from the letter of a young man who was ardently attached to Mr. Maitland as a friend and a pastor, and who, on receiving the sad tidings of his death, wrote home as follows:

"All who knew him could not but Oh ! regard, esteem, and love him. what a loss to Sunderland! His grand and noble qualities; his truth, his devotedness, his zeal; his great heart, his genius, his appreciation of all that is worthy to be loved, esteemed, and honoured; his unwillingness to believe ill of any one; and yet add to this his tenderness, his unbounded sympathy, his wit, his eloquence, his earnest, eversmiling face. You little know how kind he was to me. He was truly my dearest and best friend."

Nor less explicit is the record borne by one of the deacons of the church :

"We mourn the loss of a true friend. I can witness to his growing concern for the interests of his flock to the day he was overtaken by his fatal illness. In

all church matters he was very judicious | with his anniversary, at which he preand prudent. With strong personal con- sided, surrounded by a number of his victions, clear and deep, he combined ministerial brethren of the town and special tolerance of the opinions and suggestions of the officers and members, if neighbourhood, and at which, in his differing from him. I need not say how opening address, he ranged over a vast universal was the esteem in which the field of observation and event, and spoke members of his church and the congrega- with great energy and fervour. I left him tion, and the inhabitants of the town, in the afternoon of the following day, held him. He might be said to be con-with a still higher estimate of his manly stantly about his Master's work; and his entire nature was so permeated with the and Christian character, and of his entire spirit of our holy religion, that his cheer- consecration to his Master's work; and ful piety could scarcely fail to be attrac- in the hope that we might ere long meet tive to all. His ministry was attended again with yet heightened pleasure and with marked tokens of the Divine apmore devoted feeling. Scarcely had we proval. During it, 170 were added to the fellowship. parted, when he went to attend a unitedOne sermon in particular, on the death of a young friend, meeting of the young connected with was blessed to the conversion of many. various congregations of the town, "to He had a large, benevolent nature-a commend to them the Book of God, and rich store of information-a vigorous to enkindle their zeal for its diffusion. intellect, and commanding common sense, This was the last-the very last, occaTo every form of suffering he was alive,, and gave proof of his feeling heart in sion on which his well-known voice labouring to draw forth our sympathies was to be employed in public for his for the sufferers at Hartley, and more Master." recently for the distressed in Lancashire. The removal of our dear minister has taken place at the time when every quality and grace was manifesting itself in increased power, with a corresponding evidence of zeal and active devotement. He was at once my pastor and my friend. Any effort to speak his value is feeble

ness itself."

While I was with him, he was attending a child who had been attacked with small-pox in its most virulent type. The child died on the day following that on which I left him. He called on the bereaved mother; and while standing by the corpse, he felt a cold shudder pass over his whole frame. The child It was on the evening of Lord's-day, had to be buried on the evening of the November 9, that I had the happiness of same day. He accompanied the body to preaching one of his anniversary ser- the grave, but returned: the subject of mons, having performed a similar service aggravated symptoms came home to at Newcastle in the morning; and never die. The disease, which, as in the case can I forget the heartiness with which he of the child, took on its worst type, met me at the vestry door, and again "quickly asserted its fatal power over welcomed me to Sunderland. He entered his previously healthful frame." Though with deep thought into the service of there was summoned to his side the best the sanctuary, at the close of which he medical aid which the town could yield, accompanied me to the residence of his scarcely had forty-eight hours elapsed friend, Mr. Douglas, under whose hos- from the time that he had been taken ill, pitable roof I was located, and where we when it was feared that neither skill nor spent the evening with chastened cheer- care could arrest the progress of the fulness. Next morning we walked toge- disease, and when it was deemed prudent ther to a small watering-place contiguous that no one should be allowed to enter to the town, and passed four hours or his chamber but those whose presence more in a free interchange of thought on was indispensable to his attention and a great variety of subjects, including our comfort. This, although a wise and theological and general literature, our needful measure, proved a sore denial to awn intellectual culture, religious life, many of his friends and congregation— and ministerial work. In the evening," adding bitterness to the pangs of separa we had a public meeting in connexion tion. Dark forebodings were alternated

"O, for a heart to praise my God,

A heart from sin set free.'

with gleams of hope," till dawned the | He asked repeatedly for the singing of day of holy rest-the second Sabbath of favourite hymns, and especially that his affliction. It was to his beloved and commencing, sorrowing people a Sabbath never to be forgotten. The sanctuary in which he had so often ministered the word of life, was emphatically on that day a house of prayer. "What intensity of supplication then went up to God! What consenting of thousands of Christian hearts throughout the town, entreating that the husband, the pastor, and the friend might be spared!" Nor is it in the power of words to describe the tumult of grief, which rolled like some heavier sea over the entire congregation, when, on the evening of that Sabbath, just as they were about to leave the house of God, and bend homeward their steps, the heavy tidings reached their ears that the youthful servant of Christ who had so recently renewed in terms of unaffected warmth the pledge of faithful care for their every interest," had but a few moments before breathed his last.

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During his short illness, the need of the utmost quietude, combined with severe pain and suffering, caused his utterances to be few. For some days hope seemed to light up the future, and his anticipations of recovery were firm; but when he came to understand the nature and virulence of the disease in its fuller development, he said to his beloved wife" the unwearying watcher at his side". "This is a very heavy cross to bear. If I had to choose for myself, I should have chosen any other; but God knows best; 'tis He afflicts; and if He sees fit, He can bring me out of this affliction unscathed." When at intervals he was permitted the relief of a little repose, on waking, his lips would move in gratitude to God. During the sleepless nights his pain was intense. As evening was closing in, he said, "Ah! many a sigh will be heard here before daylight comes again." On the Tuesday night he obtained a deeper slumber for an hour and a half. When it ended, he said, "Oh, that has been so sweet; last night was so dreadful; this has been just as beautiful. I have been with Jesus and His apostles all the time I was sleeping."

On one occasion, an attendant expressing inability to sing, he said, "I would like to sing it, but cannot. But He will never leave me-no, never. He will never forsake me. Sweet promise. Precious promise!" On Sunday morning he told the physicians, "If I know anything of my feelings, I shall die to-night." During that forenoon he uttered the words, as if speaking to another, "This is the day of peace. Thy sins, which are many, are all forgiven." Once more he made an effort to sing. The voice was sweet and clear, but the only audible words were, "Hallelujah — hallelujah — hallelujah— hallelujah," four times repeated, and then he quickly passed away to join the songs of heaven. His departure was like the setting of some brighter light—the melting away of some beautiful star into the radiance and the glory of perfect day.

His earthly remains were followed to the grave by a large number of his ministerial brethren, and, in addition to many of the members of his church and congregation, by a vast concourse of the people. He was known and recognised by all parties in the town "as the friend of social and intellectual progress, with a mind so gifted as to be wise in counsel, and with a heart eminently ready in all the responses of a true philanthropy."

On the evening of the following Sabbath, his estimable predecessor, the Rev. R. S. McAll, of Leicester, to whom I am indebted for some of the foregoing extracts, preached his funeral sermon to an overflowing but sorrowing congregation. The sacred edifice was filled two hours before the service commenced, and hundreds on hundreds had to retire who could not gain admission. The discourse was founded on the words, "Their works do follow them." A "feeling of deep solemnity pervaded the congregation during the whole of the service, and at the recital of the last hours of their young pastor's life, many in the congregation were unable to repress their emotion.