competition hopeless.' A third session, that of 1831-32, completed his attendance at the university; it was devoted to natural philosophy, and to preparation for passing the examination prescribed for those who would take the degree of M.A. Having secured this object, he, before leaving Scotland, sought to recruit his health, which had been somewhat impaired by his winter labours, by visiting the sublime and impressive scenery of the Western Highlands. Of this tour he gives the following brief but animated account in a letter to his uncle, Dr. Addington :

-

'On the last day of April, I set out with a fellow-student on a short excursion into the Highlands. We climbed Benlomond,-went through Glen-Croe and Glen-Kinlass to Cairn-Dhu,-rowed ourselves down Loch-Fyne to Inverary, and saw the Duke of Argyle's castle and grounds,-circumnavigated Loch-Lomond,-walked ten miles on the banks of Loch-Katrine,-explored the Trosachs, and visited Ellen's Isle,-footed it to Callender along the shore of Loch Venachar,-went to Bracklinn Bridge, and finally separated at Doune, he marching off to Stirling on his way to some relations in Fife, and I proceeding to Dunblane to spend a week with Dr. Wand his family. As for describing what I saw and felt, the attempt would be quite ridiculous. Even the Lady of the Lake' had not prepared me for any thing so transcendently beautiful and glorious. For several nights after, my dreams were so crowded with scenes of fairy loveliness and awful grandeur, that I woke in the morning exhausted rather than refreshed. Even now I cannot give myself up to the thought of those heavenly scenes without feeling my cheeks beginning to flush. While we were on the top of Benlomond, after a full blaze of sunshine which lighted up every feature of that undescribed, indescribable scenery, a magnificent snow-storm swept over the mountain and the lake beneath, and finally was lost among the hills on the opposite side. After this came slowly rolling up an enormous volume of white, cloudy vapour, the sight of which was really awful. On the Thursday, we had a delightful Elysian morn. ing for rowing about Loch Katrine; and all that Paradisaic scenery seemed arrayed in its most glorious beauty to receive us. I can't help saying that that morning was spent in the third heaven. But it is of no use to write another syllable about it, when the

'Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn,'

would scarcely be adequate to the subject. After spending a most delightful week at Dunblane, I sailed, or rather set out in a steampacket from Edinburgh on Tuesday last. We arrived at Blackwall in forty-six hours-one of the quickest passages they had ever made.'-Ib. pp. 82, 83.

In the spring of 1833, Mr. Mackenzie settled at Poole, as copastor with the Rev. T. Durant. His ordination took place on

the 10th of April; and in this important sphere of labour he continued with much happiness to himself, and not without tokens of the Divine favour for four years. He left it in 1837, to become co-pastor with the late Mr. Ewing, of the Congregational church, meeting in Nile Street Chapel, Glasgow. From this church he received an unanimous invitation, in April of that year, and his induction to the office of pastor took place on the 3rd of August following. In this new and enlarged sphere of action, he was not long of securing the approbation of judicious and thoughtful hearers, and he was encouraged from time to time by indications that God was making the message proclaimed by him useful for the salvation of souls.

No one (says his biographer) capable of appreciating real talent could listen to Mr. Mackenzie's preaching without feeling strongly the contrast between his fine learning, his rich and varied powers of expression, his disciplined energy of thought and creative power of imagination, and that species of declamation which, while it makes the least possible demand on the reasoning powers, and is wide apart from anything like good and correct taste, so often passes current with the multitude for eloquence. His style of preaching presented eloquence arrayed in the chaste habiliments of good taste, never swelling into extravagance or turgid verbosity, but putting to flight all associations of feebleness and inadequacy. A sentiment seemed to prevail in some quarters that he did not sufficiently accommodate himself to his audience; that he was apt to indulge in critical and abstract discussions, and evinced too great fondness for the more debated points of theological science. This may have been the objection of those who could not deliver up their minds to the speaker, but allowed themselves to be repelled by the weight and energy of his reasoning and reflection: for while his discourses were always admirable for the force of thought and close consecutive reasoning, they were more than usually intelligible, from the clearness of his argumentation and the precision and transparency of his language. Sometimes, indeed, though rarely, his richly stored mind gave birth to trains of thought, and illustrations as natural as thought itself to him, the beauty and propriety of which were in close adaptation only to the cultivated taste and thoughtful intellect.'-pp. ci. cii.

In the summer of 1838, Mr. Mackenzie was united in marriage with Miss Joanna Gordon Trotter, younger daughter of the late General Trotter-a union which, whilst it brought him an increase of worldly means, ministered to him a still higher degree of happiness from the society of one to whom he was deeply attached, and whose affectionate kindness he strongly felt. Shortly after this event he resigned his pastoral charge, to devote himself exclusively to the work of tuition in the Theological Seminary at Glasgow, connected with the Congre

gational churches of Scotland. For the duties of this office he was eminently fitted; and they were also extremely congenial to his own tastes and habits. His biographer, after remarking that a wiser choice could not have been made,' goes on to state his qualifications for the office.

'Mr. Mackenzie's learning was at once sound and affluent. On all the elementary branches of Biblical science he possessed the information and facilities of a ripe and exact scholar; and in those resources of copious and varied erudition which impart so much grace and life to scholastic prelections, but which only a tenacious memory and discriminative taste can command, he was perhaps without a rival among scholars of his years and standing. These qualities and qualifications were under the controul of an understanding of firstrate powers, at once vigorous, profound, and comprehensive; and the whole was tempered with fervent piety, without which the most profound and varied learning, in union with the most brilliant talents, will not make a judicious scriptural critic. His views of what was essential to a sound education for the ministry were—as might have been expected-of a very enlarged and scholar-like kind; and he freely admitted that he held notions on this subject which he knew would in some quarters be condemned as absurdly extravagant.'p. cxi.

In this honourable and useful service Mr. Mackenzie was actively employed, himself increasingly delighted with his occupations, and gathering golden opinions' from all who observed him in his work-when it pleased a mysterious Providence suddenly to call him to his reward in a better world. On the 19th of July, 1843, he left Leith by the steam packet, for Hull, intending to visit his parents at Bedford, where he was advertised to preach on the 23rd. When leaving home, he seemed to be under some sort of presentiment of calamity; for, after taking leave of his wife, he returned again and again to repeat his farewell, and at last tore himself away from her with a marked sadness that seemed anticipative of evil. Alas! ere another day had passed, the sad tidings had reached his partner that he was gone, and that she should see his face no more upon earth. In the middle of the night the vessel had struck upon the Goldstone rock, and very shortly afterwards had gone to the bottom, carrying to a watery grave all who were on board, with the exception of six. Between the striking of the vessel and her going down, the interval was not more than twenty minutes. How this was employed by Mr. Mackenzie, let his biographer tell.

When last seen by one of the few survivors, he was engaged in prayer on the quarter-deck. I heard,' he says, "the minister who

was on board [Mr. Mackenzie] call to those around him, that as there was no hope of safety, they should engage in prayer. He then began to pray, the rest of the passengers kneeling around him. He was as cool and collected as I am now; and the others were praying too, but his voice was raised above the rest.' Such is the statement given by a party of the name of Baillie, one of six men who contrived to keep themselves afloat until five o'clock of the morning. when they were picked up by the Martello steamer, on her passage from Hull to Leith.'-p. cxxxiii.

The remarks which follow are so just and impressive, that we must quote them entire.

The manner in which Mr. Mackenzie's last moments are thus known to have been occupied not only set the stamp of sincerity on his Christian profession, but signally illustrated the true force and genuine beauty of his character. He was by nature as well as grace a strong-minded, brave-hearted man; yet it is more easy to conceive than to express the conflicting emotions, the hurried and vivid remembrances of home and friends, which must have rushed upon his soul in that bitter moment, when, with life beating strong in his pulses, the full extent of the impending danger, and the awful consciousness of inevitable death revealed itself to him. But faith, that faith which it was the grand object of his life to maintain and diffuse, gifted him with a fortitude mightier than all the terrors which surrounded him. His God had spoken to him the words, Peace, be still;' and while his feelings were gushing forth to those far away, with unsubdued energy of mind, and a voice unfaltering, he committed himself and all around him to that Saviour who is the only hope of perishing sinners. A more touching picture of Christian heroism can scarcely be imagined. It was a sight for glorified spirits to look down upon with admiration, and its memory is as consolatory as touching. It was the realization of a wish early expressed by him, in a letter to one of his sisters from Wymondley: O that we could all of us detach ourselves from the world, and feel ready at a moment's warning to give up our spirits into the hands of Him who made them!' We have no record of his last words: we can imagine only the solemn energy and thrilling pathos of that prayer uttered for himself and others as death increased upon them. But who shall say that his last firm and persuasive accents may not have been blessed to the conversion and salvation of some who knelt around him in that sad and fearful scene; and that on the day when the dispensations of a righteous and unerring Providence are vindicated, and the whole counsels of Heaven fulfilled, it may not be found that his latest were his most useful moments on earth? We know that their influence has been widely, and, we trust, permanently felt; and whatever results may flow from them, it is no mean solace to the grief of friends to be assured that he maintained his claims on their admiration and regard to the last; that his dying moments were worthy the last scene of such a life; and that by universal consent it is allowed that

in that fatal wreck there perished a TRULY GOOD AND GREAT MAN.’— ib. p. cxxxiii-cxxxv.

Of Mr. Rogers' estimate of the intellectual character of his friend, we can give no extracts, simply because it is one of those entire and gem-like sketches that do not admit of being exhibited in specimen. We wish our limits would admit of our giving the whole of it; but this is impossible. Our brief remaining space must be consecrated to the following extracts from letters written by Mr. Mackenzie, on the death of friends, and breathing sentiments to which his own departure gives peculiar impressiveness and interest.

On the occasion of the death of his uncle Addington, he thus writes:

'It comforts me greatly to think that my dear uncle's matured preparation for eternity will be to you, as it is even now to me, a source of unfailing consolation and thankfulness. Oh! how the departure of the good man teaches us the value of the soul, and the preciousness of that faith which made him die in the Lord!' To you, my dear aunt, it will be a sacred privilege to remember how he walked with God, trusting in the blood of the Lamb, and praying with all prayer in the Spirit. Such recollections, too, are not only privileges of comfort, but privileges of admonition. They show us the way of righteousness more clearly; and invite us to be followers of those who through faith and patience are now inheriting the promises.' They are strong attractions heavenwards. The pain that is mingled with them will not endure for ever; but the blessings which they bring grow dearer and more precious every hour. May the great Comforter give you to experience their richest influence!' -pp. 139, 140.

The following are from letters occasioned by the death of Mr. Ewing:

'How shall I express the feelings with which I received the intelligence of dear Mr. Ewing's decease? I had left home early in the forenoon, to attend a lecture in Edinburgh, and therefore did not see the intimation till the evening. But as I was walking through the streets of Edinburgh, an individual, whom I did not know, accosted me by name, and told me all at once. You may conceivewhat I cannot describe-the shock which such a communication

gave to me. Often as I had been compelled to think that the departure of our beloved and venerated friend could not be very far distant, I had never realized it as actually near; least of all had I thought, when I saw him so lately at Leith, that I saw him for the last time in life. He then seemed stronger and more cheerful than I had hoped to find him. But 'the will of the Lord be done.' For his sake, my dearest friend, we cannot lament the change. Surely, amidst all the natural and irrepressible sorrowings of our own hearts,