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as I shall be sure that in that case, nobody will see them but yourself; and I do not care a great deal for your criticism. I took it into my head that it would not be altogether uninteresting to you, to receive some account of this wonderful city of St. Andrew's; it is for that purpose you have the enclosed plan, or resemblance rather, (for it can not be called a plan, being only drawn by guess,) of the town. I shall soon let you know as much about it as I do myself, which, you may suppose, is not a great deal, during seven weeks stay. To begin, then;-in the first place you will observe the bay stretching to the north of the town; (A) is intended to represent the baths; to the east is the ruins of Cardinal Beaton's castle. There is a long walk immediately to the south of the baths, and the castle marked *** &c. called the scores, stretching from the links on the west, to the point of the pier on the east, the whole length of the
"The town is divided into, or rather contains three principal streets, as marked in the plan, with a number of lanes, &c. of which I don't recollect the names; nor, if I did, would they be worth mentioning. On the north side of North Street you will see a square. (B) is the area of our college, otherwise St. Salvador's College. (D) is a building composed of rooms for students, which they get free of any expense, but they have no furniture, and those that occupy them have to serve themselves in every respect. (C) is the college church. I may mention, when I am speaking about it, that I always attend Mr. Lothian's, having got a dispensation from the Principal. Market Street, (Q) is where Mr. Lothian lives; (E) is the town house, built in the middle of the street. In South
Street, (F) is the town church. (G) the divinity college, alias St. Mary's. (H) the university library; (P) is the most important part of the town to me, being no less than my lodgings; (M and N) are the ruins of the cathedral; (L) the tower of St. Regulus, or St. Rules, which is said to be more than 1500 years old, and which you need not believe unless you like, for I can assure you, it is as entire as any house in St. Andrew's. I am tired of writing, and therefore must give over my description, which is by this time become wearisome to you, as well as to me, I dare say.
"You told me in one of your letters to go three miles east of the coast, to look for onyx's, but I am so lazy I have not gone yet, I heard something of a petrified rock, (as it was called,) in that direction. I accordingly went on Saturday last, partly to gratify my own curiosity, and partly to have something to send to you; and if you think as little of it as I do, you will grudge its share of the carriage. Your lobster shells shall come this time, whether they be broken or not, and you must remember to thank me by return of post.
I mean parcel. I have to thank you for your last, and if you send me a good pen knife, I shall have the same duty to perform in my next. I thank you for your gentle hint with respect to sending compliments to Miss; they are here, as also to every other person that cares for them.
"If you are able to read the latter part of this letter, you will do more than I expect. A bad pen has tired my patience. I have just enough remaining to subscribe myself,
"Your affectionate Brother."
He paid a visit of a few days to Perth, during the Christmas vacation of college, and returned to prosecute his studies with increasing ardor and diligence. When the end of the session arrived, he bore off the silver medal, which is the highest prize of the junior Greek class, which he attended. He also received "Xenophon de Cyri Expeditione," as a prize in the junior Latin class. In the senior mathematical class taught by Professor Duncan, he obtained "Simpson's Conic Sections," as one of the prizes; but which in order, I have not ascertained. This success could not fail to be flattering to a young and ardent mind; yet I do not recollect that he seemed much elated by it on his return. He seldom spoke of himself, and though to me he was accustomed to speak freely, he rarely adverted to his exertions, and scarcely at all to the honors which he had obtained.
I have reason to believe, indeed, that the good work was slowly and imperceptibly going on in his soul. I know that he was then in the habit of reading the Scriptures regularly every day, and that he and his companion frequently joined together in prayer. His uniform correctness of conduct and regularity in attending the means of grace on Sabbath, encouraged the hope that a decided profession of religion would be made at no distant period. In such a case as his, no very marked or visible transition could take place. His mind, familiar from infancy with divine truth, had not to acquire a theoretical knowledge of it. Not the intellectual perception of the gospel, but the moral taste for its beauty and adaptation, was the thing required. The former is a mere human attainment, the latter is the doing of the Lord. Man may cultivate and enlarge the understanding;
but God only can touch and renovate the heart. Our expectations in regard to this were not disappointed.
The following extract of a letter from his companion Mr. Duff, confirms these observations, and shows what a change must afterwards have taken place.
"During the session of college at St. Andrews, in 1822-3, he and I lodged together in the same room. He was still the same John Urquhart, though more ripened in intellect, and, if possible, more amiable in deportment. He attended the junior Greek and Latin classes, and the second mathematical class. He gained the first prize in the Greek, a prize in each of the competitions in the Latin, and a prize in the Mathematics; all this he accomplished with little labor or exertion. He spent much time in reading books from the public library: of what description these generally were, I do not now remember; but one he read and re-read with peculiar satisfaction,"The Memoirs and Writings of Henry Kirke White.' He took great delight in walking along the sea-shore, and exploring the rocks which so abound in the neighborhood of the town. Throughout the whole session we regularly engaged in the worship of God morning and evening; but I fear there was much coldness, and much formality in almost every exercise. With neither of us I fear, was religion then made the great object. There was little appearance of the savor and unction of divine grace,-little appearance of real joy and delight in communion with God,-little in short, to manifest the earnest longing, the devout aspiration, the holy zeal of him whose piety is deeply
rooted in the heart, and tinctures more or less with its own sacredness, every thought and feeling, every word and action. The Bible was read, but I fear that the spiritual meaning of the Bible was not understood, and the subduing power of its doctrines not felt. Prayers were regularly offered; but I fear that the real spirit of prayer was wanting, the fervent out-pouring of the heart to God, the wonders of redeeming love formed but a small share of our discourse:-our own individual interest in the great salvation, formed not a prominent subject of eager inquiry and anxious examination. In this manner passed the session of 1822-3, without any remarkable incident."
He passed the following summer at home with his friends, without any circumstance occurring worthy of notice; and in the beginning of November, 1823, returned to St. Andrew's to attend his second college course. Scarcely any of his correspondence during this session remains. He appears to have been very busily engaged in his various studies; and yet it was towards the close of this period, that he was led to make that decided profession of religion, which he was enabled to maintain to the last. I cannot express the gratification I felt on receiving the following letter from him; and which, notwithstanding its peculiar references to myself, I hope I shall be forgiven for presenting entire. I had not previously heard of his taking the step to which it refers.