Ardtaraig

then amongst the Scottish Churches. The “token” consisted of a kind of coin or medal, made of soft metal, a sort of pewter, about the thickness of a shilling, in shape an oblong, square, or it might be occasionally an oval. On one side there was usually a text of Scripture in raised letters, and on the obverse of the Free Church tokens there was a raised design, representing the Burning Bush, with the Latin motto, Nec Tamen Consumebatur – meaning that though the Church of Scotland Free had been through the fire (of persecution), still it was unconsumed. Each congregation through the country had a supply of tokens according to its requirements. They were kept in leather bags, and on the Fast Day (the Thursday preceding the Communion), they were, handed in church, one to each. communicant, as he or she passed before the pulpit, in front of which stood the minister, with his “session,” (i.e. a body of elders), grouped around him. All this has now been swept away, together with the Fast Day itself, and its simple but sacred associations; cards have re¬placed the tokens in the meantime, until there arise further innovations. The giving of the tokens was an impressive scene, and lost nothing in our cousin’s hands. He was an able man and a good preacher. To outsiders he might seem at times somewhat cold and haughty, but his was a short ministry, and he was taken away before his career had well begun. The bond between him and his sister Georgie was a remarkable one, and his love and care for her were almost feminine in their tenderness and intensity. She yielded to him as she would have done to no other, though, even with him, her peculiar disposition some¬times gave her the upper hand. I could almost have wept, one day, on her telling me that when she was quite a girl, and had refused to be taught to knit, the loving brother had himself quietly set about learning the art, and when he had mastered it, gave her lessons with pains and sweet perseverance, never ceasing until she became a good knitter – ¬and a great solace it proved to her in days that followed. Through all their united lives he was ever her guide, philosopher and friend. They were seldom apart, and whenever he got his church she shared his home, kept house for him, and made him comfortable. On his side there was, as before, constant faithfulness, watchfulness, and also a degree of good natured submissiveness. So closely were their lives entwined, that it could hardly be said that either of them led a separate existence. When he knew that the fiat had gone forth that he must die, his great anxiety was as to how Georgie would acquit herself under the trial. He would earnestly enjoin her to be brave, and, as he put it, “To see that she did no discredit to her profession.” His words were not lost – she behaved splendidly, and bore the terrible bereavement with great fortitude. He died at Rothesay, where she, after twenty years’ waiting, was laid beside him.
In writing this little record I deal chiefly with those who are no longer amongst us, and, before leaving the subject of my cousins, the Browns, I have a word or two more to add. They were the eldest cousins grown up in my youth, being the descendants of my mother’s eldest sister, which gave them a priority, on all occasions of a family nature. Aunt Brown’s eldest sons, Colin and Duncan, were more to me than cousins; I felt towards them like a daughter, and while they both lived, I never felt this world a lonely place. Colin married, first, Miss Mary Brown of Bendarroch, Gareloch; and, second, Miss Margery Brown, daughter of the Rev. Dr Brown of Langton, by whom he had a large family, including Cousin Hugh, who was the inspiration of this small record. Duncan married Miss Janet Brown, also of Bendarroch, and left one daughter, Mary, who married Mr Andrew Henderson Morgan. Their orphan son, now fifteen years of age is Charles Campbell Morgan, at present attending the Edinburgh Academy, an industrious scholar, I believe, and a most promising young golfer.
On grandpapa’s death, in May 1845, when he was eighty-nine years of age, the tie between our family and Ardtarig ceased for ever. Gran’s last years were clouded by pecuniary troubles, but his long life closed peacefully within the old walls. He had only been ailing for a short time, and the end came sooner than was expected. He maintained a calm, clear-headed dignity to the last. Dinner had been taken to him as he lay in bed, and he partook as usual of some simple fare. When finished, he washed his hands, dried them carefully, remarking to Aunt Grace as he handed back the. towel, “That was very refreshing!” He lay down again and seemed to sleep. In truth he slept, for when again approached, the