CHAPTER V.

1669 DEATH OF MARGARET MOLLESON-HER DAUGHTER BECOMES THE WIFE OF ROBERT BARCLAY-A MONTHLY AND A HALF-YEARLY MEETING ESTABLISHED AT URY-OBSERVATIONS ON CHURCH DISCIPLINE; AND ROBERT BARCLAY'S TREATISE ON THAT SUBJECT-1672: HIS DEEP EXERCISE RESPECTING THE INHABITANTS OF ABERDEEN-REMARKS ON THE ZEAL AND CARE OF FRIENDS IN SEVERAL RESPECTS.

THE preceding chapter closed with the exhibition of some dark and gloomy shades of human character. We have now to turn to a brighter scene :—and strong indeed is the contrast. Truly, "The "The way of the wicked is as darkness;" but we are about to contemplate the life and latter end of one whose path was as "the path of the just," and this is said to resemble the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day." Prov. iv. 18, 19.

On the 16th of the 10th month, 1669, a year or two earlier than the date of some of the last foregoing occurrences, the little company of Friends at Aberdeen, had to resign one of their earliest and most exemplary members to that state of rest and fruition beyond the grave, which can never more be interrupted by sin or sorrow. This individual, Margaret Molleson, it may be remembered, has been before named, as the wife of Gilbert Molleson, a magistrate. In her youth she was an inquirer after the best people, and joined herself in worship with the most strict and refined in profession then in that city. But, it having pleased God, who beheld her hungering desires after himself and his righteousness, to send some witnesses and

servants, called Quakers, from England into the north of Scotland, who preached the everlasting gospel; she was among the first in those parts that received their message.

Coming to taste the unspeakable love of God in Christ Jesus, she delighted often to retire therein, out of the encumbering cares of her family and business; and although her love to her husband, and cares of her many children, were great, yet her chief source of peace and joy, her chief desire and care, was to draw nearer and nearer unto the true and living God, the Beloved of her wrestling soul. For this end, were the public meetings of the people called Quakers her frequent place of resort, and she continued "instant" in more private approaches to the Lord; insomuch that her husband, who was not at that time in profession with Friends, had cause to say, her knees were worn with kneeling at prayer. For about four months before her departure, when he awoke in the night season, he usually found her in meditation; and after her decease, he said before several people who came to visit him, that he had lost a true Mary and a Martha, none knowing how great his loss was, so that he could not but deeply lament it.

On the 16th of the 10th month, 1669, in the morning, she was suddenly taken ill, and in the evening of the same day died in childbirth, having been for some time before made sensible that her end was approaching. Yet her physician, not supposing that she had been in so dangerous a state, said to her, She needed not fear--his life for hers; to which she answered, "Fear? I have no cause; but thou wilt see, thou art mistaken." At this time, many relations and neighbours being in her chamber, were in much

sorrow; among whom was an eminent professor, and an old acquaintance of hers, who desired those about her to pray for her; which she hearing, when others thought she had been dying, answered, "My Advocate is with the Father, and my peace is made : I am feeding at a table none of you perceiveth." Some lamenting much her being likely to be taken away from her nine children, who were all around her bed, she said, "As many of them as shall truly fear the Lord, and follow him, shall be provided for:"-which has been since truly fulfilled. And, fixing her eyes on her son Gilbert, who was then about ten years of age, she said, in a heavenly frame of mind, "Truth is precious; cleave to it!" Observing the people in her chamber lamenting much, she said to them, "Settle yourselves, and be stayed in your minds, for ye are now to see the last!" Then, in a sense that she was about to reap the fruit of all her spiritual labours, she declared, "Now interruption is to cease, and my eternal joy is already begun!"

Soon after this she expired.

A few months subsequently to the removal of this exemplary character, one of her daughters, Christian, was married to Robert Barclay. She had, through much suffering and hardship, in her sixteenth year, publicly embraced the testimonies held by Friends, and was one, whose name and character truly coincided; a daughter worthy of such a mother, and a wife worthy of such a husband. As there will be further occasion to speak of her in the course of these Memoirs, her character shall not here be enlarged on; yet it may be interesting to some readers, to contemplate the grounds and motives for entering on the

marriage state, which appeared to influence such a mind as that of the "Apologist" at the age of twentyone years,—at least so far as these are developed in the following letter addressed to the worthy object of his choice.

"Dear Friend,

"28th of 1st month, 1669.

"Having for some time past had it several times upon my mind, to have saluted thee in this manner of writing, and to enter into a literal correspondence with thee, so far as thy freedom could allow; I am glad that this small occasion hath made way for the beginning of it.

"The love of thy converse, the desire of thy friendship, the sympathy of thy way, and meekness of thy spirit, has often, as thou mayst have observed, occasioned me to take frequent opportunity to have the benefit of thy company; in which, I can truly say, I have often been refreshed, and the life in me touched with a sweet unity, which flowed from the same in thee,-tender flames of pure love have been kindled in my bosom towards thee, and praises have sprung up in me to the God of our salvation, for what he hath done for thee! Many things in the natural will concur to strengthen and encourage my affection towards thee, and make thee acceptable unto me; but that which is before all and beyond all, is, that I can say in the fear of the Lord, that I have received a charge from him to love thee, and for that I know his love is much towards thee; and his blessing and goodness is and shall be unto thee, so long as thou abidest in a true sense of it.

"I write not these things to draw out thy mind, but as being with me so to do; that thou mayst

rather be humbled, and love the more to abide in the low, meek, quiet, satisfied, peaceable, contented habitation, from which there is safety that cannot be hurt, and peace that cannot be broken,-a place of rest and quietness, where the children of light and babes of the household of faith have fellowship together, and embrace one another in the pure love, which is mysterious, and hid from such as are led away by the foolish loves and fond affections of this world. [For] when any that bear the name of Truth, or have at any time tasted of the good thereunto belonging, are entangled [herein,] they cannot but receive great hurt, and much damage to their spiritual prosperity and advancement. Against [this] it is my study to watch, and my earnest desire to be enabled so to do. My friendship and respect for thee doth engage me to offer the same advice to thee; because thou and I are those, amongst the small handful in this place, whose private condition puts in a capacity to be obvious to temptation of that kind; by yielding to which, I fear it will be found, some have received hurt. That such as are behind, may be preserved from the like danger, is the cry of my soul. I am sure it will be our great gain so to be kept, that all of us may abide in the pure love of God; in the sense and drawings whereof, we can only discern and know how to love one another.

"In the present flowings thereof, I have truly solicited thee, desiring and expecting, that, in the same, thou mayst feel and judge.

About this time, the jealousy and enmity of magistrates, preachers, and people in and around Aberdeen, began to grow very strong towards the Friends;