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.

"My dear Sir;

"St. Andrew's, April 13, 1824.

"It is with feelings of a very peculiar nature, that I sit down at present to write to you. Since I saw you last I have been admitted a member of a Christian church. I determined to write to you at present for several reasons. I have long considered you as one of my best friends, and as a sincere servant and follower of Jesus Christ; and your preaching was the first instrument in the hand of God, of leading me to think seriously of an eternal world. To you, therefore, I have determined to reveal every feeling, and to open the recesses of my heart.

"My first impressions of danger, as a sinner, were caused by a sermon you preached on a Lord's day evening, about a year and a half ago. At the time, I was very much affected; it was then, I think, that I first really prayed. I retired to my apartment, and with many tears confessed my guilt before God. These impressions were followed by some remarkable events in the providence of God, which struck me very forcibly. About that time, I had a proof of the inability of earthly wisdom and learning to confer true happiness, by the melancholy death of Mr. Moncur. On leaving my father's house to come here, shortly after, I felt myself in a peculiar manner dependant on Jehovah. I was removed from the care of my earthly father, and from the intercourse of my earthly friends; and I felt great pleasure in committing myself to him who is the Father of the fatherless, and a Friend to those that have none. My companion used to join me morning and evening in the reading of the Scriptures, and prayer. In these, and in attending on

the more public exercises of God's worship, I had some enjoyment, and from them, I think, I derived some advantage. On my return home, however, last summer, I began to feel less pleasure in these employments; they began to be a weariness to me, and were at last almost totally neglected. My soul reverted to its original bent, and the follies of this world wholly engrossed my attention. Had I been left in that state, I must have inevitably perished. But God is rich in mercy; he delighteth not in the death of the wicked. In his infinite mercy, he has again been pleased to call my attention to the things of eternity. For some months back, I have been led to see the utter worthlessness of earthly things;to see that happiness is not to be found in any earthly object; that

""Learning, pleasure, wealth, and fame,

"All cry out, it is not here,'

And I think I have been led to seek it where alone it is to be found,-in 'Jesus crucified for me.' I have felt great pleasure in Communion with God; and I have felt some love, though faint, to the Saviour, and to his cause. I have had a long struggle with the world. I have counted the cost, and I have at last resolved that I will serve the Lord. I have long been kept back from openly professing my faith in Jesus from an apprehension lest my future conduct might bring disgrace on the religion of the Saviour. But I have begun to think that this proceeds, in a great measure, from self-confidence, and from not trusting implicitly to the promises of God. He that hath brought me thus far, will not now forsake me; He that hath begun a good work will perfect it until the end.