gay, brilliant French Abbe, than the Seceder minister of
Rose Street, as he then was. It gives, however, more of his exquisite
brightness and spirit, the dancing light in his dark eyes, and his
smile, when pleased and desiring to please, than any other. I have a
drawing by Mr. Harvey, done from my father for his picture of the
Minister's Visit, which I value very much, as giving the force and
depth, the _momentum_, so to speak, of his serious look. He is sitting
in a cottar's house, reading the Bible to an old bedridden woman, the
farm servants gathered round to get his word.

Mungo Burton painted a good portrait which my brother William has; from
his being drawn in a black neckcloth, and standing, he looks as he
sometimes did, more like a member of Parliament than a clergyman. The
print from this is good and very scarce. Of photographs, I like D. O.
Hill's best, in which he is represented as shaking hands with the
(invisible) Free Church--it is full of his earnest, cordial power; that
by Tunny, from which the beautiful engraving by Lumb Stocks in the
Memoir was taken, is very like what he was about a year and a half
before his death. All the other portraits, as far as I can remember, are
worthless and worse, missing entirely the true expression. He was very
difficult to take, partly because he was so full of what may be called
spiritual beauty, evanescent, ever changing, and requiring the highest
kind of genius to fix it; and partly from his own fault, for he thought
it was necessary to be lively, or rather to try to be so to his
volunteering artist, and the consequence was, his giving them, as his
habitual expression, one which was rare, and in this particular case
more made than born.

The time when I would have liked his look to have been perpetuated, was
that of all others the least likely, or indeed possible;--it was, when
after administering the Sacrament to his people, and having solemnized
every one, and been himself profoundly moved by that Divine, everlasting
memorial, he left the elders' seat and returned to the pulpit, and after
giving out the psalm, sat down wearied and satisfied, filled with devout
gratitude to his Master--his face pale, and his dark eyes looking out
upon us all, his whole countenance radiant and subdued. Any likeness of
him in this state, more like that of the proto-martyr, when his face was
as that of an angel, than anything I ever beheld, would have made one
feel what it is so impossi