CHAPTER FIFTH.

CLOSING SCENES.

DURING his last illness, Dr. Hamilton addressed the following letters to the church of which he was pastor :

"MY DEARLY BELOVED FRIENDS,

"June 1st, 1848.

"On reaching home I found myself so worn and reduced by pain, as to be precluded from all communication with you. My debility has been most intense, disqualifying me from any effort. Perfect stillness was essential, but in that stillness I knew the Lord was God. I have felt nothing but perfect peace, and I cannot breathe from my sick bed a more hearty prayer for you than that you may enjoy the deep happiness which I have uninterruptedly experienced. I thank you for your last letter to me, for all its respect and kindness.

"I am, dear Brethren,

"Your affectionately-devoted Pastor,

"RICH. WIN. HAMILTON."

"To the Church and Congregation assembling for Evangelic Worship in Belgrave Chapel, Leeds.

"MY DEARLY BELOVED FRIENds,

"The nature of my severe affliction has operated both to indispose and disqualify me for any intercourse with that

which is without. It has been attended with anguish and debility which I seek not to describe. The hand of God has been upon me: I have yielded to it, and blessed Him for every stroke. There has not been one too many nor too severe. I have neither questioned His right nor His mercy in thus dealing with me. I have no fondness for obtruding my personal experience. But surely a pastor may break a too strict reserve. I owe it to the grace and faithfulness of the Great Master to tell you how I have been sustained! He has not hidden himself from me. I have been kept in perfect peace, and proved the joy unspeakable! As I have never known a similar depth of bodily suffering and weakness, so have I never hitherto risen to such heavenly places! The earliest prompting of my heart is to thank you, my affectionate flock, for all your kindness and sympathy: above all, for your prayers. Though I wish to leave each event and issue with God, still I am sometimes disquieted with the thought that this season of my suspended ministry may be disadvantageous to your spiritual interests. I hear of your trials, but cannot soothe them; only in solitude can I weep with those that weep: I am cut off from active fellowship in your weal and woe. Oh! could I impress you with the power and realness of true religion! It would make all your sorrows light, and cause you to look on your death as gain. On this bed of languishing I have substantiated all this!-I can have no desire to grieve any of you; but fidelity compels me to remark, how often have I stood in the place of instruction, anxious to warn and to teach every man, when I have looked for your attendance in vain. Nothing has so much enervated my ministry, nothing has so much sunk my heart, as your casual and irregular appearance in the house of God. What can be thought, how can it be explained, that professed Christians of long standing can allow every novelty to divert and every inconvenience to deter? The young and the thoughtless might be expected thus to be drawn away; but better habits of stedfastness may well be demanded of those who long since scaled their vows of union with the disciples of Christ. Let me

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implore you to cultivate orderly, punctual, unintermitting regard to the service of God!-I know I have had your prayers: I entreat their continuance: they are more necessary and precious to me than ever. I subscribe myself

"Your affectionate Friend and Pastor,

"RICH. WIN. HAMILTON."

The compiler of these memorials was himself on the bed of suffering at a distance from home: it was no small consolation to him to receive from his dying friend, the following short letter:

"MY DEAREST STOWELL,

"I cannot impress upon you my deep sorrow in hearing of your severe sufferings. I have now been confined to bed myself for nearly four weeks, under excruciating pain in the form of erysipelas, and can sympathise with you. from experience what must be your trial in reference to the I know great literary undertaking before you. I would advise you to postpone it until the spring, securing for yourself the leisure, and I would fain hope, the health, of the intermediate period. Poor Binney is laid up, and suffering too!

"How solemn are these rebukes and warnings towards us! What a seriousness they impart to the residue of our years! How little indeed of life remains to us! assuring me of your amended health, will be a great comfort. One word from you, You see I cannot write myself. Some faithful hand near you can perform the task. Ever believe me, beloved friend,

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'Yours most faithfully and condolingly,

"Leeds, June 20th, 1848."

"R. W. HAMILTON.

About a week before his decease, Dr. Hamilton was visited by the Rev. S. Goodall, of Durham. Mr. G. says "I asked him how he had felt in the comparatively distant prospect of death; for I

was willing to believe that it was yet comparatively distant. " I have had,' said he, addressing me by name, 'the near prospect of death for some time continually present, and I can only say that I have had a desire to depart. I have sometimes,' he added, enjoyed as much of heaven that I have thought I should scarcely enjoy more of it if I were there.' I could not have supposed,' said he, a little after, that a limb so remote from the centre of vitality could have caused so much pain, such a diffused pain throughout the whole system, as I have endured for the last six weeks: but I would gladly endure the whole again to experience such rich enjoyment.' As I left the room, he exclaimed, in a kindly earnest manner, 'God bless you;' then added playfully, as if it were an after-thought, and preserve you from cutaneous erysipelas." "

The last scenes cannot be better described than in the report of his medical attendant, which is almost verbally repeated in the following narrative:

"The erysipelas was soon checked. His arm became nearly well. The extensive surface had healed up without any loss of the integuments. During this time, a boil had formed on the outer side of the back of the hand, which required a free opening; as this healed, another formed at the opposite side. of the hand near the thumb, which also required to be opened, but which also became well. His appetite was good; his strength increased; he was enabled not only to see a few of his more intimate friends, but to sit up several hours, to walk about the house, and, on two or three days, to dine with his family. He felt, as he said, returning health and more life.

"He now had lost the impression that he should die:

arrangements were made for his going to the sea-side, and he talked of what he should do when he got to work again, and even said what his first text should be, and that he would give his people his experience during his illness. The inflammation had ceased; the skin looked healthy; reparation of the mischief in the hand was going on well; and the general and constitutional symptoms had so far improved, as to inspire considerable hope and confidence that he would soon be able to get from home. When the hot weather set in, it produced a great feeling of languor. The perspiration became considerable, and his appetite was not so good; but there was nothing alarming; and on Tuesday it had been arranged that, in case he passed a good night, the following day he should take a short drive in a close carriage, which he thought he should quite enjoy. In the evening, and during the night, the heat became quite oppressive, so much so that he could not sleep. In the morning he was much more languid, and unfit to get The suppuration, which had most materially lessened, was somewhat increased, while there was no enjoyment of food, and the stomach was disordered; yet he passed some hours on a sofa in the library. The following night, though not quite so restless, was by no means refreshing; he had but little sleep, though he said the time had not been without enjoyment, as he had passed it in repeating the penitential psalms. He felt less inclination to get up, and wished all the windows to be set open. In the afternoon he got out of bed, and walked to another room, on which, having a different aspect, the sun had not been shining. Before reaching the bed he became quite exhausted, and fainted.

out.

"From this time he never effectually rallied; for, though revived somewhat on the Friday from some more comfortable sleep during the night, he was very weak, and the discharge from his hand suddenly became much more copious. The arm which had been healed for at least three weeks, all at once opened again, and the palm of the hand, which had been nearly well, became, as suddenly, again extensively involved. He could take little or no solid food, and that which he did