very ill, his wife was repeating some texts and Psalms to him, and whenever she stopped he patted her arm and signed to her to go on.

The soreness of his lips caused by the fever made articulation difficult, and it was not easy to make out what he said; but the calmness and gentleness with which he would repeat any particular expression till it was understood were very touching.

He suffered very much from lying constantly on his back, and still more from the pain of extreme exhaustion; but no expression of impatience passed his lips,—so that all those who were with him were struck by his peaceful smile, and the gentle way in which he thanked them for any little service.

Throughout his illness he was perfectly composed, perfectly resigned to whatever might be God's will for him; but he sometimes expressed a hope that this might be death. His hands were constantly raised and clasped, as if in prayer, but he spoke little. There was one remarkable proof of the strength of his faith. He was of an unusually anxious mind, and on any occasions when he had been obliged to leave his wife, he had almost fretted at the impossibility of shielding her from every trouble or annoyance; but now, though he was fully aware that he was about to leave her alone, and far from all her friends, his trust never failed that the God who called him would protect her. When told on Sunday the 5th that his life could not be prolonged many days, he turned to his wife with a smile, saying, "Say the Lord's Prayer, my

love, and then leave me; I have more to do than I thought for." He sent for a friend, and with perfect calmness gave directions about his property; and having wished this friend good bye, and begged him to take care of his wife, he said, "Now my work is done."

On Monday, as a lady whose devoted kindness can never be forgotten by the editor was sitting beside Colonel Mountain's bed, she said, "I have read of a death-bed like this, but I never thought I should witness such a scene of calm resignation and peace."

On Monday and Tuesday his weakness was very great, but on the evening of the latter day he spoke more than he had previously done. He asked for a glass of water, and after having drunk it he sat up in bed and said, "Thank God, thank God! What am I, to be so blest-I who am unworthy! I am dying. I have made one step on Jacob's ladder. Peace with God through our Redeemer." During that night he spoke frequently, bidding his wife follow him; and when she repeated texts of Scripture, he said, "Speak to me more words of inexpressible comfort."

His last words were: "Peace-mercy-salvation, through Jesus Christ." He then turned upon his bed, and clasping his hands, lay for some time without moving. After a while he turned to his wife, showed that he recognised her, and, without a groan, his pure spirit passed from earth to Heaven. His work was done; the tender loving heart, the noble chivalrous spirit, had been purified by the religion of Christ, and

his sensitively anxious mind had learnt to trust all things unreservedly in the hands of God.

In health and sickness, in prosperity and adversity, he had adorned the Gospel of God his Saviour, and when the summons came he was found watching; and surely we may believe that his faithful spirit passed from serving God on earth to the "General Assembly and Church of the Firstborn who are written in Heaven;" and we may say with the Psalmist, "Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright: for the end of that man is peace."

CONCLUSION.

WHEN it became known in the camp that hope was past,—that the kind friend who had ever been ready to share the joys or sorrows of others would no more be seen on earth, that he who had been foremost in the field of battle, zealous in professional duty, kind and forbearing in social life, who had always promoted kindly feeling and cheerful intercourse, whilst, by his consistent conduct and example, he had set forth the beauty of holiness, had indeed passed from this world, -the mourning was sincere and universal.

The Commander-in-Chief had halted the camp from its arrival at Futtyghur; and although the approaching hot weather made every one desirous to reach the hills, all had agreed that they could not desert their friend and now they vied with each other in showing respect and love for his memory, and by kindness and considerate attention to Mrs. Mountain proving their sympathy for her loss and their esteem for the departed.

Nor was it only amongst immediate friends that this feeling was evinced. Letters from all parts of India, expressive of deep sympathy with her, and admiration of her husband, were sent to Mrs. Mountain;

and at every place where she stopped on her journey to Calcutta, arrangements were made for her comfort, sometimes by those to whom she was personally unknown, which were doubly gratifying as showing the estimation felt for her husband's character.

Some extracts from letters addressed to friends are here given, as well as from a few written to Mrs. Mountain.

"My dear G

66

Although you had prepared me for the worst, you will understand the feelings with which I read the loss of our dear departed friend. As he lived, so he died, a thoroughly good man. During the fourteen years since our first acquaintance ripened into the friendship which death has severed, I have known him in sorrow and in sickness, in the hour of mirth and in the hour of battle. I therefore think I knew him well. He was indeed 'sans peur et sans reproche.' Many able pens can record the loss that the country has sustained in the departure of one of her noblest sons. The privilege in him to lament a respected, a dear friend, is yours, as it is my own.

"His last letter, which terminates a long correspondence, commences in these words :

"Many happy New Years to you, my dear C- : all good luck, and above all a mind at peace with itself and with its Maker and Redeemer.' Let us hope

that we may obtain grace to meet him hereafter."

"Of my affectionate regard for him I need not speak. . . I have for years felt it no small privilege to possess the