clear, knowing that his Redeemer liveth. Let those to whom he was dear give, as he would have done, all the glory to the One who loved him, and washed him from his sins in His blood.
About thirty miles from Edinburgh, and as many from the English border, stands the pleasant village of Earlston. It is in the heart of one of the most beautiful parts of Scotland. Four miles off is Melrose with its classic abbey, and not far away Abbotsford, where the Wizard of the North wove many an enchanting spell, and Dryburgh, where he lies buried.
In the beginning of the present century Earlston was so secluded from intercourse with the surrounding world that there was not even a stage-coach running through it. The ancestors of some of the villagers could be traced back for five or six centuries, and in that time it had made little progress. Many had been born, grown up to manhood, and died in a good old age, who had never gone beyond the hills which formed its sensible horizon. But they were an intelligent people, eager for books and learning, sustaining good schools, where even the poorest had the opportunity of studying Latin and Greek; and they were also a God-fearing folk, bringing up their children in his fear and in the study of his Word. The minister went from house to house duly examining the children in their knowledge of the Scriptures and the Catechism, and it has been said that if at nine o’clock at night one had gone through the village he would have heard the sound of psalm-singing and prayer and reading of the Word of God in every house, so general was the custom of family worship.
In one of these homes Robert Carter was born, on November 2, 1807. He was the second child, having an elder brother who grew up into a worthy manhood, but
