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Life and Times of D. M. Stuart, D.D.

Chapter XX. — "Steeped To the Lips in Sorrow."

page 135

Chapter XX.
"Steeped To the Lips in Sorrow."

Alexander, the Doctor's second son, who for many reasons had held a large place in his mother's heart, and to whom her much-used Bible had been given as a pledge of loving solicitude lor his best interests on the very day when her mortal remains had been committed to the grave, gave early indications of precocity and of being possessed of rare intellectual gifts. His bright social qualities attracted notice and gathered round him many friends, who predicted for him a useful and distinguished career. He had passed through the hands of Mr Stuart Hawthorne, the amiable and scholarly Rector of the Boys' High School; and while he greatly admired his ability, he felt all the charm of his gentle and cultured nature, and acknowledged his obligation to him for the moulding influences which he had wisely exerted on his mind and heart. When troubles fell thick upon the school, and his old teacher sank under their pressure into a premature grave, from the pen of his gifted pupil flowed the following graceful tribute of affection for him:—

In Memoriam.
STUART HAWTHORNE,
Otago, June 9th, 1875.
 Another friend has left us
For the silent further shore,
 And we are very lonely
For we know he loved us well.

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We had hoped the day was distant
  When we'd hear his voice no more,
That gentle voice that acted
  On our passions like a spell.

And all we did to grieve him,
  All our words that gave him pain,
All his solemn words of censure,
  And his kindly words of praise,
Come rushing like a torrent
  On our memory again—
Come with a force that nothing
  Henceforward can erase.

His life was almost blameless,
  His words were ever pure;
And he always strove to teach us
  That the higher our ideal,
The longer, it we gained it,
  Would our memory endure—
That Arthur and his heroes
  Were not myths, but very real.

Loyal was he to his Master,
  True and faithful to his trust;
And when God's voice called unto him,
  Ne'er complained, but passed away.
And though now his body lieth
  In its long last home—the dust—
His memory shall blossom
  To a very distant day.

But Alexander became restless, and, under the impression that some pulmonary trouble threatened him, he passed over the sea to the milder climate of Victoria. He found hospitable reception in the Christian home of Mr John Ferguson, of Oakleigh; page 137and after an absence of six months he returned to Dunedin in an improved and hopeful condition of health. He entered a solicitor's office with the view of prosecuting his studies for the bar, and it was then, through the subtle sophistries of one with whom he was thrown into daily contact, his father believed, that the seeds of infidelity were sown in his heart. The old, restless mood came back upon him, and he returned to Victoria, where he remained for about a year, during which his Oakleigh friends gave wonderful proofs of their goodness of heart, and of their unwavering interest in him. On his return to Dunedin he seemed to settle down, and to face in earnest the work of life. For three years he studied surveying in Canterbury, took a certificate of competency, and passed the University examinations required of candidates for standing in that profession. In course of time he secured an appointment as Assistant Engineer on some public works in Otago, and was pushing his way steadily up to a good position. But the bright prospect soon clouded over: ill health brought him back to his father's house, and the following letter, dated 7th July, 1883, and addressed to Mrs Ferguson, narrates the mournful close of a life which had opened with such splendid promise of usefulness and success: "I have to give you news that will make your heart and that of your kind family sore. Alex., whom you nursed, and healed, and benefited beyond expression, died all alone yesterday in his room. He had been unwell for a month, but was getting all right, and, with a view to go to Sydney, spent two evenings repairing the rug which page 138your hands sewed. On Thursday evening, after worship and supper, he retired at 10.15, and my housekeeper found him asleep when she took up his breakfast—which he had been getting in his bed during his illness—but, on speaking to him, she found it was the sleep of death. He had been dead for several hours. It turns out now that he had taken cyanide of potassium instead of borax, which the doctor prescribed for his gums and throat. He was great in chemistry and mineralogy, and had in his room a cabinet of specimens, and over a score of phials containing tests, half of which are poisonous. The phials containing the borax and cyanide of potassium stood beside each other: they were of the same size, and their contents of the same colour. He took the wrong substance, and death seems to have been without a struggle, for he was lying on his side, one hand under his head, and the other resting on the edge of the bed. His eyes were open, and the expression on his countenance the old, open one you know. The doctors say that the heart being weak must have collapsed at once.

"… My eyes are full, and my heart seems too big for my chest, and I don't think I can write more…. Speaking to him on one of his worst days, he said:—

'Father, can you forgive me?'

'Yes,' I replied, 'I do forgive you.'

'I often think,' he said 'it had been better had I died when a child.'

'Yes,' I said, 'unless you mean to lead a noble page 139life. You see what comes of speculative views of religion.'

'Father,' he added, 'you know I have given these up years ago; I am nearer the old creed than you think.'

"I do believe that he got unspeakable good at your fireside…. He was anxious to get to New South Wales, where he thought he could make headway in his profession. I was very unwilling to consent, as Blair assured me he was on the highway to make a most distinguished engineer. I did not consent till Thursday evening. And so, dear friend, all my anxieties and my prayers and fears and hopes, as regards him are ended…. Dear Friend, my soul and body are fairly overcome with agitation. Pray for us. Deep down in my aching heart there is a void which the telegrams and letters of sympathy from all parts of the Colony cannot fill. Pray that Christ, by His Spirit, may take His residence in it. and use the last days of my life for men's good and God's glory."

An affecting incident occurred in connection with this lamentable event, which profoundly touched the Doctor's heart, and left an impression on him which was never effaced. Mr W. N. Blair, late Engineer-in-Chief of the Colony, who had been a staunch friend of Alex.'s, came down the stairs from the death chamber on that dark morning in the Manse, and, throwing himself on the Doctor's neck in a paroxysm of loving sympathy and grief, sobbed and kissed his cheek. "That embrace," the bereaved father used to page 140say, with a voice that thrilled with unspeakable pathos—"that embrace I shall never forget." "I'm just steeped to the lips in sorrow," was his own expression to us when speaking of this calamity which had so suddenly darkened his home.

Four months later he wrote to Mrs Ferguson a letter of condolence on the occasion of her husband's death, which was so eminently characteristic of him that we make no apology for reproducing it in extenso:—"John Gillies was kind enough to send clown your daughter's letter announcing the death of your husband. It was of a truth a translation rather than a death. I cannot tell you how glad I felt that it pleased our Heavenly Father to call him home in so striking a way. I know you cannot but feel to tears and sadness the loss of a husband so considerate and a father so affectionate. Still, as the time of his departure had come, we have reason to bless God that it pleased Him to take him to Himself so expeditiously. His death brought to my remembrance the death of my dear wife. The doctor told me the trial was safely passed, and on going to see her she spoke one word, and in less than three minutes was with the God she loved. I am sure Alex. passed away without a struggle, from the expression of the face, the composed posture of the body, and the absolutely undisturbed state of the bedclothes. Dear me! how the loved leave us! And, doubtless, one of these days we shall be leaving the loved. Pardon this digression, which must give you the idea that I can only think of my own trials. Dear friend, it is only page 141in appearance. I cannot tell you the feelings with which for years I have regarded you and yours. I have a thousand times asked, 'What led the Fergusons to take such a deep interest in my thoughtless boy, and to regard him with such ardent affection?' I beg to say that the story of your regard for him has enhanced my views of the worth of the Gospel, and of the souls that receive it in the love of it.

"What shall I say to comfort you, my dear friend? I wish I was within reach of you to show you that my heart is not stone. Your greatest comfort must arise from his faith and life. It is a most blessed recollection of departed friends when we can recall their faith, hope, and love. You often read and prayed together. You so lived that your prayers were not hindered. John Gillies and I had an hour's talk about you and Mr Ferguson. We came to the conclusion that though his removal is to you an irreparable loss, as well as to the children, yet the change to him was the consummation of his hopes.

"Assure the young folks of my prayers and sympathy, and say that I desire for them before place and power, a Christian character with the springs of contentment and enjoyment, as well as its hopes of enduring blessedness. Let me hope that you will continue to pursue your diversified walks of usefulness; for more than I can tell you your health and enjoyment and growth in grace depend on it.

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"Dear friend, the time is short, and by-and-bye we shall be admitted by the gate of death into the inheritance of the saints in light. I had to preside at the soiree connected with the anniversary of the opening of the Church, and I assure you though I hardened myself to the duty, yet I was not in it in my entirety. The Lord bless you all!"

To the same friend he wrote under date 17th December, 1883: "…. Mr Hepburn, the last of my first elders, died on Sabbath morning, the 9th, after an illness stretching over three months. He died as he had lived, trusting in the mercy of God in Christ. For nigh twenty-four years he was my cheerful helper and adviser. He was a Sabbath School teacher for sixty-one years, and was as enthusiastic in the service of the Sabbath school to the last as he was in his hot youth. I feel, now that the old advisers are gone, as if I should prepare my house to follow. I have worthy office-bearers, but the old wine was of the best quality. The Lord be praised for the service they rendered to the Gospel. Death has of late been mowing down several of our good men. Still, God's cause does not depend on individuals. The Divine rule is, the next man foremost, and there is an Isaac to succeed Abraham, a Solomon to succeed David, and a Philip to succeed Stephen…."

In his visits to Mr Hepburn, when he was passing through the valley of the shadow of death, as he looked on him and prayed with him, the Doctor said, page 143"His considerate service to the wife of my youth always rose up in my mind, and gave softness to my voice and tenderness to my hand as I tried by prayer and sympathy to help him in his dying hour."