overcome, and inviting us all to share in his victory. And
yet we feel that the victory over death cannot deliver us
from fear, unless there be also a victory over that which
makes death terrible--a victory over him that hath the power
of death, that is the devil, or prince and principle of sin.
And our Lord has achieved this also, for he put away sin _by
the sacrifice of himself_; but this sacrifice can only really
profit us when it is reproduced in us--when we, as branches
of the true Vine, live by the sap of the root, which sap is
_filial trust_, the only principle which can sacrifice
_self_, because the only principle which can enable us to
commit ourselves _unreservedly_ into the hands of God for
guidance and for disposal. We are thus _put right_ by _trust,
justified_ or _put right_ by faith in the loving fatherly
righteous purpose of God towards us.

Dear George Dundas's death has taken from me my chief social
support in Edinburgh. I was fourteen years his senior, but I
had known and loved him from his childhood. Our mothers were
sisters, and thus we had the same family ties and traditions.
I think of him now in connection with that verse, "to those
who by patient continuance in well-doing," etc.

And now farewell. Let us seek to live by the faith of the Son
of God--his filial trust I suppose, which I so much
need.--Ever truly and gratefully yours,

T. ERSKINE.

* * * * *

The three following letters hardly help on the story of the Dean's life,
but I could not pass them when they came into my hands.

The writer is Adam Sedgwick, the well-known Cambridge Professor and
Philosopher. In another capacity he was still better known. He was tutor
and vice-master of Trinity, and in his time an outside stranger of any
education, even a half-educated Scot, dropping into Cambridge society,
found a reception to be remembered. Take for choice one of their
peculiar festivals--Trinity Sunday comes to my mind--the stranger
partook of the splendid feast in that princely hall of Trinity, where
the massive college plate was arrayed and the old college customs of
welcome used, not from affectation, but kindly reverence. When the
dinner was over, the large party of Doctors and Fellows, with hundreds
of the noble youth of England, all in surplice, moved to the chapel, all
joini