of her grief and regret to Mr William Tulloch on hearing of his father's death. The QUEEN to Rev. W. W. TULLOCH. "OSBORNE, Feb. 13, 1886. "I am stunned by this dreadful news; your dear, excellent, distinguished father also taken away from us, and from dear Scotland, whose Church he so nobly defended. I have again lost a dear and honoured friend; and my heart sinks within me when I think I shall not again on earth look on that noble presence, that kindly face, and listen to those words of wisdom and Christian large-heartedness which used to do me so much good. But I should not speak of myself when you, his children, and your dear mother, and our beloved Scotland lose so much. Still I may be, I hope, forgiven if I do appear egotistical, for I have lost so many, and when I feel so ALONE. "Your dear father was so kind, so wise, and it was such a pleasure to see him at dear Balmoral! No more! Never again! These dreadful words I so often have had to repeat make my heart turn sick. God's will be done! Your dear father is at rest, and his bright spirit free! "We must not grieve for him. When I saw you at Balmoral you seemed anxious about him, and I heard the other day he could not write. Pray convey the expression of my deepest sympathy to your dear mother, whose health, I know, is not strong, and to all your family. I mourn with you. "Princess Beatrice is deeply grieved, and wishes me to express her true sympathy with you all. I shall be most anxious for details of this terrible event.-Ever yours truly and sorrowingly, "The Rev. W. TULLOCH." "VICTORIA R. & I. A still greater evidence of solicitude and kindness was THE QUEEN'S SYMPATHY. 479 shown to Mrs Tulloch by the royal lady, who is so deeply competent to enter, above all other bereavements, into that severance of the closest relation of life. Mrs Tulloch came with her daughters to Eton, to the house of Mr Tarver, after the dreadful blow had fallen, to rest there for a few days in close retirement, and gather a little strength to undertake the mournful journey home. When the Queen heard of the arrival of this sorrowful group, she laid all ceremony aside, and with the tenderest sympathy hastened to take the hand and comfort the heart of the mourner, with comfort which came in the sweetest human kind-next best after divine consolation-in the form of praise and blessing to him who had departed. Before her Majesty's visit, there had already come from her the following touching letter: The QUEEN to Mrs TULLOCH. "WINDSOR CASTLE, Feb. 17, 1886. "DEAR MRS TULLOCH,-You must allow one who respected, admired, and loved your dear distinguished husband to write to you, though personally unacquainted with you, and to try to say what I feel. "My heart bleeds for you-the dear worthy companion of that noble excellent man, so highly gifted, and large-hearted, and so brave! whose life is crushed by the greatest loss which can befall a woman. "To me the loss of such a friend, whom I so greatly respected and trusted, is very great; and I cannot bear to think I shall not again see him, and admire that handsome kindly face and noble presence, and listen to his wise words, which breathe such a lofty Christian spirit. I am most anxious to visit you, and trust that you will allow me to do so quite quietly and privately, as one who knew your dear husband so well, and has gone through much sorrow, and knows what you feel and what you suffer. "Pray express my true sympathy to all your children who have lost such a father. "My thoughts will be especially with you to-morrow,1 and I pray that God may be with you to help and sustain you.Believe me always yours most sincerely, "VICTORIA R. & I." These touching expressions of a fellow-feeling so tender, simple, and sincere, are of the kind that have given her Majesty the empire she so justly holds in the hearts of her people. When I undertook this work, which has had many difficulties for me in consequence of my inadequate knowledge of public events in Scotland, it was, as I hoped, to be done with the explanations and help of my dear friend Mrs Tulloch. Her tender words, that it would have been almost impossible for her to confide the letters in which lay the history of her whole life to any hands but mine, had been my great inducement to undertake the task. I do not know whether I have been able to convey to the reader any just idea of the wonderful and beautiful character of this entirely unobtrusive and often unnoticed woman. Her self-forgetfulness and lifelong adoption of the part of caring for others were so complete, that even her sorrow was borne with her usual mild and natural quiet, and made no display of itself. "Oh, what does it matter about me!" had been the half-impatient sentiment of her mind throughout her life. In a letter which I find by chance while I write, she upbraids herself in the midst of "the weary asthma." "I felt what a poor creature I was, I could not even live a little longer for the girls' sake." But this was almost the only acknowledgment she ever made of the complete desolation which had 1 The day of the funeral. taken from her all power and courage for further struggles. Yet it was so nothing could take away her smile, her tender thought of everybody; but the motive of her life was gone. "There is no more spring for me," she said to some one when the first tokens of the unfolding year came back. "No joy the blooming season gives "-and a little impatience sprang up in her, the first she had ever shown, at the special care and watching which her anxious children thought necessary. What did it matter? She lived on as long as she could, surviving her husband little more than a year. Then followed him on the 27th March 1887. The subject is too sacred and too solemn for the touch of fancy. And yet it is difficult not to imagine that some repetition of that cry for "Jeanie! Jeanie!" had come from him even in the unaccustomed blessedness above, and some echo reached her ears of the wistful call. The record is now all accomplished and filled out of the two lives that were one,-a record full of honour, sweetness, love, and praise. Their children rise up and call them blessed. To their friends the world is a much poorer place now that they are gone. 2 H 482 POSTSCRIPT. It has been suggested to me that a few notes from some of Principal Tulloch's students would be a welcome addition to this book, as showing the impression made by his teaching upon the young men under his care. I accordingly add extracts, in most cases much abridged, from the essays upon his character and teaching, full of enthusiasm and reverence, which have been sent to me: Rev. J. Nicoll, Murroes, near Dundee. The Principal's class was generally a welcome one time passed quickly in it, and one had none of that sense of weariness and lack of interest with which I have known even the most painstaking teaching sometimes rewarded. If I were to try to characterise him as a teacher, I should say he impressed himself mainly as a healthful and stimulating and friendly influence among us students. Tulloch had the power of drawing out one's best, and this, I think, because the sense of his luminous and sympathetic intelligence inspired the confidence without which the best cannot be done. Effort in the case of some other intelligence might gain you a prize or distinction, but the real prize in Tulloch's class was always his own appreciative estimate of your work. In the conventional and restricted sense of the term, he did not greatly aspire to be a teacher. For one thing, he had no formally elaborated or symmetrical system either of philosophy or of theology, and no student of his ever took to the pulpit from his classroom the shibboleth of any particular school or fashion. He rather sought to show, by varied courses of lectures on particular questions-historical, critical, doctrinal-the spirit in which theological truth should be sought and held, and rather trained us in the way to handle such subjects for ourselves, than aimed at furnishing us with authoritative conclusions. It was in his class |