He wore a suit of black, with old-fashioned dress ruffles, and a high cravat that looked as if it choked him.

His complexion was fresh, and snowy hair crowned a noble forehead.

He had never married, but resided with a relative.

We chatted about America, and I told him that in all our churches his hymns were great favorites.

I unfortunately happened to mention that when lately in Glasgow I had gone to hear the Rev.Robert Montgomery, the author of "Satan," and other poems.