as brought him into a highly-prized acquaintanceship and brotherhood with His physical man, of slender form and towering stature, was taxed 64 A slight sprain in the muscles of his back, when thus debilitated, was followed by ulceration. Finding it beyond the control of physicians at home, in the autumn of 1861 he sought counsel in Pittsburgh, and was enjoined at once to desist from all ministerial labor. Complying with this advice for two or three months, his system rallied, so far as to beguile him into the belief that he might again indulge his heart's desire by resuming the active exercises of his holy office. But a few weeks' trial sufficed to show that he had committed a perilous mistake-farther lapse of time proved that Acting, then, on the advice of friends he put it had been a fatal one. himself under the care of Dr. Darragh, of Philadelphia. By him he was treated for eighteen months-much of the time by daily inspection; and was flattered with the prospect of ultimate restoration. Being chiefly desirous of prolonged life, as he often remarked, from love to the duties of his sacred calling, he incurred no little expenditure, both of means and strength, in making two trips to the sea coast, and four terms of sojourn in Philadelphia, always attended by the unremitting care and kind During all this time, however, only his offices of his sympathizing wife. His ever-active, ever-anxious His heart, beating with body was released from a pastor's toil. mind could not be beguiled of a pastor's care. undying concern for the welfare of the flock of God, over which "the When at home amongst them, Holy Ghost had made him bishop," could not be weaned from the exciting, consuming solicitude of that relation. and a weekly witness of their destitute condition, it preyed severely on his spirits. The Sabbath-day, at each successive return, became the occasion of increased prostration. And as a means of partial counteraction to this feeling, whenever he was able to reach the church, he would teach a Bible-class, or briefly address a prayer-meeting. These closing exercises of his sacred office were generally conducted in a melting strain of tender love. Also, when absent from his charge, that he might be under the eye of his physician, tidings would frequently reach him of trials and bereavements among them; and so stir up the sympathies of his soul with them, as to be scarcely less depressing upon him than if he had been in their midst. A letter, written under such circumstances, to sorely-stricken parents, whose last loved child had been called away from their embrace, while opening up to them the sweetest fountains of Christian consolation, as few others could have done, must have proved as exhaustive on himself as if every line had been written with his own blood. But an in gredient still more bitter was in preparation for his cup. In order that the attentions of his fond wife might be given undividedly to his comfort, whilst they were with the physician, their children were left at her father's in Lancaster County On one of these occasions, in May of 1863, a telegram summoned them thither to witness, in a few hours, the death, by diphtheria, of their only son, a dearly loved and loving boy of nearly four years. And to the same place he returned from the city again, in the following year with the last weary effort of his fast failing powers. And there, on August 1, 1864, peacefully, joyously, he breathed out his longing soul to God who gave it; laid down his earthly tabernacle to mingle with the precious dust of their sainted Willie, and left a most devoted wife and very youthful daughter to taste the sweet assurance, "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." Brother McMillan possessed a clear mind, a warm heart, and a most unassuming spirit; or, as Dr. Stockton expresses it, "had talents of a high order cultivated by thorough education. His manners were most modest and retiring, and in his whole conduct, candor and integrity stood forth with unusual prominence." His sermons, of the richest ingredients, and of the finest mold, bore no other visible traces of the labor bestowed upon them. His delivery, full-toned and faultless in articulation, was characterized by a simple earnestness and unction that found its ready way to the hearts of his auditors, and made him a great favorite with all the congregations where he preached. In illustration of this it may not be amiss to mention that once, when he was assisting at a communion season, in a congregation where the announcement of a protracted meeting would have awakened opposition, the exercises were prolonged by a new appointment at the close of each discourse, until nine of his precious sermons had been delivered. And at last when it was announced that the exercises were at an end, a person, from whom opposition to such meetings had been strongly apprehended, was the first to express regret to the pastor, "that they had closed so soon." One of these discourses will long linger as a blessed fragrance in the memories of those who heard it, based on the text, "Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then is not the health of the daughter of my people recovered?" But most of all in his own charge was he intensely revered, almost idolized. This devoted affection was displayed most strongly when, under his exhaustive labors nearly three years before his death, his over-taxed frame gave way. He wished at once to resign his charge, that it might pass into the hands of another capable of fulfilling its duties. But his people, as one man, resolutely withheld their consent, preferring to wait whilst any hope of his restoration remained, rather than risk the reception of any other pastor in his stead. In these circumstances, supplied partly at his expense, but chiefly by the voluntary services of brethren in the Presbytery, they continued his salary till but a few weeks before his death, manifesting all the while the deepest sympathy with him who had been such a Barnabas to them in all their tribulations. The life of God in his soul was of an order so high, and productive of effects so all-pervading, all-controlling as to produce on all his brethren the impression of intimate and abiding "fellowship with the Father and with his Son Christ Jesus." And yet deep humility, and godly jealousy over himself, together with the depressing effect of his principal disease, and the intensity of a neuralgic affection under which he often agonized, would cloud, at times, his sense of acceptance with God, and induce great and renewed searching of heart. Nor was he raised altogether above the region of these clouds till near the close of his days on earth. Happily at this period, in the study of two little books, entitled, "The Blood of Jesus," and "None but Christ," by tenderly contemplating the grace of Christ, he obtained beams so bright from the Sun of Righteousness, as forever dispelled murkiness and mist from his horizon. Then the sun of his experience went down without a cloud, or rather melted away into the glorious light of heaven. Thus did his own case verify, in a signal manner, language which, once in a delightful Presbyterial conference at Leechburg, himself had quoted with thrilling effect upon the audience : "The more thy glories meet my eyes, The humbler I shall lie: Thus, while I sink, my joys shall rise "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his." NEWTON, D.D., EPHRAIM HOLLAND-Was born in Newfane, Vermont, June 13, 1787. His ancestors were from England, and settled in the eastern part of Massachusetts, about the year 1630. His father, Marshall Newton, served for seven years in the Revolutionary army, and his grandfather, Marshall Newton, of Shrewsbury, Mass., was a Lieutenant in Colonel Williams' Regiment in the "Old French War." E. Holland spent the early part of his life in labor with his father in the blacksmith shop. He had a special fondness for books, and determined to acquire something more than a common education. While at work with his father making axes he mastered English grammar, and laying his book upon the forge near the bellows-pole committed it to memory page after page until the whole was familiar. When in his nineteenth year he taught a district school in Marlboro', Vt., with very marked success. He fitted for college with Alvan Tobey of Wilmington and at the Windham County Grammar School, in Newfane, and entered the Freshman class at Middlebury College, October 6, 1806, under Rev. Jeremiah Atwater, President and graduate, August 16, 1810; under Rev. Henry Davis, President. In the autumn of 1809, during a powerful revival of religion in the vicinity of Middlebury, which extended to the college, he was hopefully converted, and in April, 1810, he, with about one hundred others, made a public profession of religion, and united with the Congregational Church in Middlebury under the pastoral care of Rev. Dr. A. Merrill. He entered the Theological Seminary, in Andover, Mass., in November, 1810, and completed his theological course there in September, 1813. He was licensed to preach the gospel by the Haverhill Massachusetts Associaciation of Congregational Ministers, April 14, 1813. His first field of labor was in Marlboro', Vt. He commenced his labors here in October, 1813, and was ordained and installed March 16, 1814. Dr. Newton's ministry in Marlboro' continued for nearly twenty years, and it was a successful ministry-one hundred and thirty-three persons were received to the church. A new church edifice was erected and the cause of education and morality received a valuable impulse through the whole community. Dr. Newton was installed pastor of the Presbyterian Church in Glens Falls, N. Y., February 28, 1833, and during his pastorate of about three and half years in this place one hundred and seventy-two members were added to the church. In November, 1836, he commenced his labors with the Presbyterian Church in Cambridge of New York, where he served as pastor until August, 1843. During his pastorate here eighty-three were added to the |