in his own parish and neighbourhood, led general attention to the subject, and he lived to see his plans carried into practice in all parts of the civilized world. Not only in the establishment of such banks in various places he gave his personal assistance, but in framing the Acts of Parliament relative to the subject, the Government mainly were indebted to his experience and counsels. In 1826, when Brougham was planning the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, he wrote to Dr. Duncan, who was an old College companion at Edinburgh, to contribute a volume on the history and nature of savings banks. The narrative of Dr. Duncan's labours in this and other fields of parochial and political economy, is full of instruction and encouragement to all who are interested in the social improvement of mankind.

Among scientific men Dr. Duncan's name is known as the originator of a most interesting department of Geology, that of Ichnology, or the study of the traces of the inhabitants of former creations on the rocks of our present world. On the sandstone of a quarry near Ruthwell he first observed the footprints of some strange animal that had passed over it, when the rock was yet soft, in ages long before any of the present denizens of the world were in existence. Geologists for some time were incredulous and even treated the announcement with ridicule. But Dr. Buckland, after seeing the specimens, and subsequently visiting the quarry, gave the following testimony:-"I look upon your discovery as one of the most curious and most important that has been ever made in Geology, and a discovery that will for ever connect your name with the progress of the science." Chalmers also has testified concerning this, that "he was not only the first to point out traces of now extinct animals on the strata of former eras, but he at once also fully appreciated the importance of the geological phenomena to the science." These ichnological marks have been since observed in many parts of the world, and specimens are found in most museums and collections.

Dr.

But it is not because of his science and learning and varied accomplishments, nor yet because of his abundant and successful labours, that this memoir is to us chiefly interesting. The charm of Dr. Duncan's life was his personal character, his warm, ever-gushing benevolence, his untiring and well-directed activity, his

high moral principle, and his humble, happy piety.

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Dr. Duncan was born in 1774. 1799 he was inducted to the parish of Ruthwell, in Dumfriesshire, where he laboured for forty-three years as a minister of the Established Church. At the disruption in 1843 such a man was, as a matter of course, with the party which became the Free Church of Scotland. The narrative of the events connected with the disruption is given in this memoir with great impartiality and clearness. The following passages are extracts descriptive of the state of Dr. Duncan's parish at the disruption, and of his own labours after it, and the last scene of his life :

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"About the period at which we have now arrived, the parish had reached a high degree of cultivation, if we may employ the word. During a course of years his own advance was indicated by the increasing energy with which his pastoral work was prosecuted, and the schemes by which his love to souls was developed the experiments, so to speak, by which he strove to discover the most favourable means of impressing their hearts and awakening their consciences. He had for some time held, with growing frequency, what may be called extraordinary meetings for devotion, sometimes on Sabbath evenings in the Society room or parish schoolhouse, or in the schoolhouse which had been erected, as related above, in a distant corner by the surplus fund of the parish bank-sometimes on the evenings of working days, either there or in the private dwellings of his parishioners. His Sabbath-school instruction, formerly confined to the Church, and of course only attended by the children of the neighbourhood, was now diffused over no fewer than six localities, all of which, in turn, with the aid of members or inmates of his own family, he personally superintended, his object being to bring the benefits of the institution to every child in the parish. An infant-school was opened in 1832 in the village, and a teacher engaged chiefly at his own expense, the superintendence of which he committed to the willing care of his daughter. He was peculiarly attached to the young, and sedulously watched over them as they approached the verge of manhood, to train them in the principles of truth, and guard them from the dangers and temptations to which they were apt to be exposed. Classes for such youths were held for long periods, every season,

on two evenings of each week. There he appeared among them more as a friend and fellow-learner than a master. For them he employed some of his leisure hours in preparing models and transparencies, meant to illustrate Jewish manners or scriptural scenery; and when they were drawn together, he invited and encouraged the familiar remark and the free inquiry, gladly striving, by every means, to engage their attention and awaken their interest. The Sabbathschool teachers, also, who were generally of this class, gathering from every district of the parish, held at the Manse a monthly meeting for mutual improvement at which he presided, and in which each of the young men, in turn, was encouraged to lead the devotions.

"To his classes in preparation for the communion he paid very anxious attention, and he early introduced a practice which he followed to the end of his ministry, of requiring all catechumens to make a profession of their faith before the congregation. These classes were larger or smaller according to circumstances, and at times he used to regret that, for several days at their first opening, the attendance was discouraging. On one of these occasions, which the writer remembers, a single youth arrived at the appointed hour. This was intimated to Dr. Duncan, when some one present remarked, that it was a pity he should take the trouble of meeting with but one. 'Don't call it trouble,' was his reply, we must make a beginning. John shall not be sent away because he comes alone.' It was among the young accordingly, as might be expected, that when the day of trial came a large proportion of his most devoted friends and followers were found. short, no efforts which ingenuity, stimulated by a love for souls, could prompt, were omitted. Every family had become more than ever his peculiar care, and now he seemed to be realizing, but in a higher sense than he was once capable of imagining, the early anticipated position of a father and universal friend to the people of his charge."

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"One happy result of the disruption became apparent in the course of Dr. Duncan's dis-established ministry. Hitherto, the strictness of clerical etiquette had confined him within the limits of his own parish. Many a summer's evening had he spent in preaching to such as were brought by circumstances within the range of his parochial ministry, though

not inhabitants of Ruthwell. On the seashore he had had for a time a regular congregation, partly composed of such strangers--labourers engaged on the spot in rearing an embankment-who, when their tools were laid aside at the close of the day, used to gather around his phaeton, from which he addressed to them the message of salvation. Still he had often had cause to regret, when openings of usefulness presented themselves beyond his own boundaries, that he was precluded by the recognised rules of ministerial intercourse from taking advantage of them. Now, however, he was set free from old restraints, and with hearty good-will he took the opportunity of carrying his message beyond the boundaries of Ruthwell, wherever, in the neighbourhood, he was so happy as to find an open door. The parish minister of forty-three years, became at once the Gospel missionary.

"Though in his seventieth year,' ‘he went every alternate Sabbath evening many miles along the shores of the Solway to preach in the open air, to about two hundred people, in Caerlaverock parish. In Mousewald, and Dalton too, he often preached, and in each of these latter parishes we got a sabbath-school placed, so that though a portion of his stated flock left him, he had by the disruption, means of searching out others who were not " Gospel hardened," and some of whom received the good news gladly.'

Many attended church who had separated themselves from his ministry, but still retained an affectionate regard for his person. There was an impressive solemnity and earnestness in the services, which deeply affected his people. His text in the morning was from John iii. 18

He that believeth not is condemned already.' He told his hearers that he had not come among them to speak smooth things, or to flatter them in favourite delusions; that there were some among them of whom he stood anxiously in doubt, and that he felt as if he fulfilled his duty best by faithfully sounding an alarm. His mind had doubtless been dwelling on the hardening influence which seemed to have pervaded the hearts of too many, with whom he had often in vain pleaded on behalf of their souls; and he now left them his last warning, to 'flee from the wrath to come.'

"In the hurried course of visitation to which the two following days were devoted, hardly one old friend was omitted. His warm heart carried him indiscrimi

nately into the houses of his parishioners, whether of the Free Church or of the Establishment, and by all he was cordially greeted. On the Tuesday, he was followed by the eyes of several of his people to the church-yard, at the gate of which they observed him stop and fasten his horse. He then entered, and was seen to stand long by the railing that encircled the spot of earth where many years before he had laid a long-loved partner, and where, on the Tuesday following, he was himself to find a grave. What memories of former days then crowded on his mind, we shall never know. Probably a shade of regret was there that he might not at last rest among those whom he had loved so much, and for so many of whom he felt all the tenderness of a parent for his children.

"He had been invited by an elder in the Establishment to hold a prayer-meeting in his house at Cockpool on the evening of that day; and, as it drew on to the time, he was noticed, with a step almost youthful, speeding from door to door in the village of Ruthwell, that, if possible, no kind heart might be wounded by an omission. He had a cheerful and a hearty word for each; and he finished this two days' labour of love, 'weary in body, but rejoicing in spirit,' by driving to the place of meeting, which lay about two miles westward. Here he was kindly welcomed. The house soon filled; and, as the sun had set, he proceeded by candle light to conduct the services. It was remarked by his auditors, when the subsequent stroke had rendered every small movement matter of observation, that their minister was at this time free from agitation, and held his presence of mind, up to the moment when the first note of the final summons was sounded in his ear. The table on which the Bible was placed was low, and consequently the light did not reach the book when raised in his hand. Instead of making a bustle, by applying to the good woman of the house for some means of raising the light, he cast his eye quietly around, and, with the old fertility in expedient and adaptation for which he was remarkable, took a jug which hung on the wall, placed it on the table, and on it set his candlestick, and then proceeded to read. After singing the 121st Psalm and prayer, he gave out as his text, Zech iii. 9, "For behold the stone," &c. It was while in the act of illustrating these words that the messenger of death met him. He had not

spoken above ten minutes when his voice faltered, his whole frame trembled, and all the symptoms of paralysis became apparent. He was supported to a chair, but could not sustain himself upright. An attempt was then made to lift him into his conveyance, which was quickly prepared, but this was found impracticable; and at length it was suggested that a bed should be extended on a cart, on which he might be laid, and so carefully conducted to Comlongon, which lay at the distance of about a mile. This plan was adopted. Supported in the cart by one of his attached people, and followed by those who, not an hour before, had gathered together to attend on his instructions, he was silently conveyed to the house of his affectionate relatives.

"As the melancholy procession moved along, the moon looked down with chastened lustre, and the more brilliant of the stars shone unclouded over the scene. Lifting up his hand, though now scarce able to speak, he was heard, as he cast his upturned eye over the heavens, to utter the admiring exclamation, 'Glorious! most glorious!' Arrived at their destination, he was lifted by tender and willing hands, and conveyed to bed."

He died on the Friday, three days after the stroke, in the seventy-third year of his age.

"Never did worn-out veteran find a death more in keeping with his history. Struck down at the successful close of what he had long contemplated as his last campaign, with the weapons of his spiritual warfare still in his grasp, he died a Christian soldier's blessed death, amid scenes dignified by his unceasing labours, and in the midst of those who had followed the banner which, on behalf of Christ, he had nobly unfurled because of the truth.

His duty done, the Master thus at its close called him to his reward."

We have only to add our commendation of the skill, delicacy, and good taste with which the memoir is drawn up. The son of such a father we are glad to have as a minister in our English Presbyterian Church, and he is manifesting in his field of labour the good school in which he was trained. We are sure that no reader will be disappointed as to the rich treat we promise them to obtain from the perusal of this valuable volume.

It is better to gain one soul to Christ than to gain a world.—Oliver Heywood.