nts could be made, and February 22, 1870,
was fixed upon as the date of my departure.'

In this brief and rapid manner James Gilmour sketched, with not a few
most characteristic touches, the first twenty-six years of his life. He
enables us to see the quick, merry, receptive lad, developing, after a
brilliant collegiate course and a careful training in theology and in
practical Christian life, into the strong, resolute missionary. No one
who knew him during this time failed to perceive the force of his
character and the charm of his personality. The writer first came under
his influence during his second session at Cheshunt. He was then in the
prime of his early manhood, in the full possession of physical and
intellectual vigour, and his soul was aflame with love to the Saviour
and to the perishing heathen.

He retained, moreover, the love of fun, the high spirits, the keen
enjoyment of a good joke, and the constant readiness for an argument
upon any subject under the sun, which had endeared him to his comrades
in Glasgow. Every Cheshunt man of that day readily recalls, and rejoices
as he does so, the memory of his good-natured practical joking, of his
racy and pointed speeches upon all momentous 'house questions,' of his
power as a reciter, and of his glowing personal piety. To know him even
slightly was to respect him; and to enter at all into sympathy with him
was to love him as long as life lasted.

There are many reminiscences of those Cheshunt days, from which we can
cull only a sufficient number to enable the reader to understand what
manner of man he then was. These are drawn from the letters of his
fellow-students, and from their recollections of his sayings and doings.
'How well,' writes one, 'I remember his coming to Cheshunt! I was
acting-senior at the opening of that session, and, according to custom
with the new men, went to his room to shake hands with him. He said,
"Who are you?" I told him. "What do you want?" I told him I had come
according to custom to welcome him, and held out my hand, whereupon he
put his hands behind him and said, "Time eno' to shake hands when we've
quarrelled. But where do you live?" "Immediately over your head." "Then
look here," said he, "don't make a row;" and so we parted. Dear old
fellow! his memory makes life richer.'

Another writes: 'He was a good elocutionist. He was also a keen debater,
and so fond of argument that he would not hesitate to take opposite
ground