So far as moral influence goes, it is always character that tells in the long run; and Mr Sherriffs character was a tower of strength to him. Everybody respected him, gentle and simple. His preaching might not be of the brightest, but his life added weight to his words; for his conduct was a living sermon of the truths he taught.

Perhaps the next feature that shone brightest in his character was his kindheartedness. A tale of distress at once melted him, and he would give away his last farthing. The money he was intrusted with to give to needful cases was always changed into threepenny pieces, and given away in that form. When I first took a number of the Poor on a Jaunt to Girvan, he came and addressed them, and gave each a penny by way of a keepsake. And he repeated this "keepsake" at our visit this year. A Maybole weaver, now dead, told me that many years ago, he had gone to Girvan seeking work, but found none. He was sitting in a lodging-house, having just enough to pay for his bed, when Mr Sherriff came in, and, learning the circumstances, gave him threepence to pay for his breakfast, being all he had in his pocket. After a few minutes, he came back again with twopence extra, which he had just discovered in another pocket.

Another outstanding feature in Mr SherrifTs character was his simplicity. He was transparently honest—"an Israelite indeed, in whom there was no guile." He was often deceived, but that circumstance never soured him. He went on to the end, hoping the best. Still, conjoined with this simplicity, there was a deal of Scotch shrewdness. I remember him telling me that he once drew up a list of some thirty death-bed conversions which he had confidence in. These people afterwards recovered, but one by one they all went back to their old ways, until he was left with only one, of whose stability he was beginning to have grave doubts. His conclusion was—"You can't tell when a man is converted. The man himself may be deceived. The only proof is continuance in well-doing."

A feature in Mr SherrifTs character that was plain to everybody was his faithfulness. He lived entirely for his work. How to get those meetings of his kept up was his great thought. No stress of weather, no scantiness in the attendance, ever daunted him. Not even was family affliction allowed to interfere with his public duties. When his wife lay dead in his house, he went on with his meetings in the country as usual. For, as a priest in the old times was forbidden to show any sign of mourning, so the work of God must be carried on by the minister, no matter how sore his heart may be within.

His preaching was entirely Scriptural, and his infallible model was Spurgeon. In fact, the Bible and Spurgeon were, latterly at least, his sole mental food. Occasionally, however, when addressing a meeting of the young, he would blossom into allegory, or relate an anecdote of his youthful days, in which there would be a dash of quiet east-country humour. One of his parables, relating to the tragic fate of one of his pet rabbits, I append to this notice.

His plans of working included visiting (distinguishing, as he always did in his Reports, between short visits and long ones)—Tract distribution, and the loan of Spurgeon*s Sermons—Bible classes—with Prayer meetings on Sundays and week-nights, both in town and country. At one time, he opened a free evening school for reading and writing, and, latterly, he superintended a Home for poor Christians, which was supported by voluntary contributions. He also took a deep interest in Temperance work in the town and was never weary inveighing against what he called "the three poisons—Whisky, Tobacco, and Tea." Sunday and Saturday, wet and dry, late and early, he went about the discharge of his duties, and his health kept wonderfully good, and his spirits buoyant to the last.

He was somewhat old-fashioned in his views, and not easily turned out of his way. But nobody thought of quarrelling with one who was so manifestly sincere and well-meaning. Once, when lamenting his want of success, I asked him—"Did you ever pray, Mr Sherriff, for a little originality?" He smiled, and said he had never thought of that. But I don't think his heart would have gone along with that prayer; for he was intensely conservative, and liked to keep by the old paths, and even the old ruts. The only original practice he had was to go through the streets ringing a small bell, and reading out certain .verses of Scripture. And I once gladdened his heart by telling him of certain good effects from this practice that had come under my notice.

It would hardly be fair, perhaps, to judge of our Missionary by an intellectual standard. He knew his Bible well, but he had little other learning. In fact, he had little taste for other learning. One consequence of this was that his preaching was apt to become monotonous. He kept rigidly to the fundamentals, and never wearied going over the common evangelical round. But his earnestness of manner, his simplicity of life, his faithfulness to duty, and his overflowing kindliness of heart, made people think little of his intellectual deficiencies, and see only a man who put his religion into practice every day, and every hour of the day.

He had his own share of life's troubles. His wife, who predeceased him by six years, became blind before her death. His brother, too, became paralytic, and was cast upon his care. One by one his other relatives died, leaving him at the last a lonely, childless man. But he was humble, happy, and sweet-tempered; and I think every earthly desire he had was granted to him before he died. He was full of gratitude to the many friends God had raised up around him. What he was to the poor of Girvan, the poor themselves will know more fully now that he is gone; while as to the town at large, it is something to have had a man living for over thirty years in their midst whom everybody recognised as a sincere Christian and a worthy, useful man. Girvan gave him honourable burial; and when we left him in the Doune Cemetery, I could not but repeat over his grave.—"Here lies a good man; simple-minded, kindly-hearted, single-eyed, who served his generation faithfully by the will of God, and died leaving neither an enemy nor a wrong behind him.'"

THE PET RABBIT.

Children, I will tell you a story about a little rabbit I once had. It had a nice house all to itself, with plenty of clover and green kail, not to speak of porridge and milk in the morning, with carrots and other dainties occasionally. And this little rabbit had not only a house, but a place to run about in, with ten wooden spars nailed across it, to keep the cats out, which you know was very necessary. But the poor silly rabbit did not understand this, and thought that the spars were put there merely to prevent it from getting out into the garden, which lay temptingly in view. And so one night it set to work, and scraped and bit its way through one of the spars, and was found lying outside next morning, killed by a cat.