"Mr. Deans was invited to become assistant minister here, at a Church meeting, held on July 11th, 1864, with only one dissentient. His acceptation was read to the Church on the 1st of August following, and he came at the close of the year, when he received a cordial welcome. His public ministrations were uniformly acceptable; but he mainly endeared himself by his amiable disposition and demeanour; by his manifest personal piety; and by his remarkable aptitude for visitation to the poor and the afflicted. The affections of the people towards him steadily increased, and proportionate sorrow was felt, when in July, 1865, his health became so impaired, that he was under the necessity of discontinuing his labours. His formal resignation was read to the Church, on August 28th, 1865. The sum of One Hundred Guineas was quickly raised, and was presented to him as a token of sympathy and esteem.

Mr. Deans' health was evidently delicate and uncertain before he came hither; and I soon felt personal anxiety respecting him. This was the only anxiety I had to feel; for I had cause to appreciate him very highly indeed."

And so this brief ministry ended.

SORROWING MOST OF ALL FOR THE WORDS WHICH HE SPAKE,

THAT THEY SHOULD SEE HIS FACE NO MORE.

Acts, xx., 38.

CHAPTER VII.

Departure and Death.

1865-6.

As a servant earnestly desireth the shadow, and as a hireling looketh for the reward of his work, so am I made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me. When I lie down, I say, When shall I arise, and the night be gone, and I am full of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day.

JOB vii. 2-4.

When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee; when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned, neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.

ISAIAH xliii. 2.

Our Jesus hath done all things well.

We now come to the closing chapter of this uneventful, yet strangely chequered life.

Mr. Deans returned, as I have said, to his father's, house at Cornhill, and that was his headquarters for several months. It was a time of great bodily weakness. and mental depression, with occasional gleams of sunshine, and his consequent fluctuation of feeling appears in a very touching way, in the letters which he was able to write to his dearest friends. Sometimes he would say, "Oh this sad cough! Has not Miss some old box where she could lock it up, and never let it out again?" Or, "I have been so very unwell since I left you, that I almost long to be away. I cannot lie on my left side, and if I lie on my back, the cough is immediately excited, so that I am weary of lying on my right side, and my right ear is quite sore. I am made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me." But at other times, as he felt lightened under the genial influence of mild weather, he would write thus, "How nice it is to feel strength returning to your