morning watches, conversing with his God in prayer and praise, remembering his Maker upon his bed, and having his song with him in the night. Amidst the ordinary details of life, the devout aspirations of the heart were continually breaking forth in ejaculations of thanksgiving and holy desire: his conversation habitually dwelt on heavenly things; or, if secular objects were introduced, he would turn them with sanctifying ingenuity into divine emblems and spiritual analogies. His whole mind and life seemed impregnated with devotion, and all his days formed, as it were, one Sabbath. The extent of his pecuniary liberality was surprising. He considered it a binding duty on every individual to devote at least the tenth part of his revenue to pious uses; and out of an income which, during the greater part of his life, amounted to only forty pounds a year, and never exceeded fifty, and from which he had n numerous family to support, he generally exceeded that proportion. He distributed his benevolence with strict attention to the Saviour's command, "Let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth."
He was aware of the importance of conversation among the various means of doing good, and, though he laments his own "sinful weakness and unskilfulness in pushing religious discourse," he was too conscientious to neglect the opportunities which presented themselves of promoting, in this way, the glory of God and the best interests of men. He made it a distinct principle never to leave any company in which he might be placed, without saying something which, by the blessing of God, might promote their spiritual good. It is related, that, having accidentally met Ferguson the poet walking in Haddington church-yard, and being struck with his pensive appearance, he modestly addressed him, and offered him certain serious advices, which deeply affected him at the time, and doubtless had their share in exciting and promoting those terrible convictions which latterly overwhelmed the poet's mind, and in which it may perhaps be hoped there was something better than "the sorrow that worketh death." He knew, however, that there was a certain discretion to be tised in such cases, and n selection to be made of the "mollia tempora fandi," the seasons when words are "fitly spoken." Of this, the following anecdote is an example:—Having occasion to cross the ferry between Leith and Kinghorn, with a Highland gentleman as his fellow-passenger, he was much grieved to hear his companion frequently take the name of God in vain, but restrained himself from taking any notice of it in the presence of the rest of the company. On reaching land, however, observing the same gentleman walking alone upon the beach, he stepped up, and calmly reminded him of the offence he had been guilty of, and the law of God which forbids and condemns it. The gentleman received the reproof with expressions of thanks, and declared his resolution to attend to it in future. "But," added the choleric Celt, "had you spoken to me so in the boat, I believe I should have run you through."
It will not be supposed, that, after having given himself with such ardour to study in circumstances of comparative disadvantage, he neglected to avail himself of the more favourable opportunities he now enjoyed of extending and consolidating his knowledge. By a diligent improvement of the morning hours, and a studious economy of time throughout the day, he rarely spent fewer than twelve hours of the twenty-four in his study. He possessed extraordinary patience of the physical labour connected with hard study. No degree of toil in the way of reading, or even of writing, seemed to daunt or to fatigue him. Though he never enjoyed the assistance of an amanuensis, he transcribed most of his works several times with his own hand: and even without a view to the press, he more than once undertook the same fatigue for the convenience of private individuals. In tin's way, at the request of the Countess of Huntingdon, he
