forty years slept two hours without engaging in prayer.' The conduct of this remarkable man towards the young inquirer, was in keeping with his character. "He was the first person," Campbell adds, "to whom I opened my case, when I was greatly alarmed about the state of my soul before God. I wrote to him a very simple letter, which he first showed to some of his intimates, for their opinion, and then wrote a cautious brief answer, which he did not send off by post, but actually brought himself, and delivered into my hands in Edinburgh. He explained his doing so by telling me that he had been at Dunfermline sacrament, to which place he carried it; and while there, he thought that, being within fifteen miles of Edinburgh, he would just walk to it, and have a little conversation, as well as deliver the letter. He had walked more than twenty miles to the sacrament. He walked thus to save his money for the poor." It was no wonder that, under the conversation of such men, the subject of religion to the mind of Campbell appeared of paramount importance. It was equally to be expected, from his natural disposition, that having attained such views, he should be impatient to realize them by action. He became a visitor of the sick and dying poor, to whom he imparted the consolations of religion, as well as of the ignorant and the dissolute, whom he was anxious to enlighten and convert. In this way he became a city missionary among the murky lanes and closes of Edinburgh, at a time when such an office was most needed, and, as yet, little thought of.
Mr. Campbell had now commenced that evangelistic public life which was to know neither rest nor interval; and while engaged in the shop of a hardware merchant, an occupation to which he had betaken himself, he was to become a correspondent of the principal characters of the religious world, and be connected with those great public enterprises in which they were the chief movers. But to a life of such varied action, notwithstanding its heroic disinterestedness and important results, we can only devote a very brief enumeration.
One of the earliest of these labours was the establishment of Sabbath-schools. At a time when domestic religious instruction was prevalent in Scotland, their introduction, instead of being a benefit, would have been a mischievous intrusion. But now that this patriarchal style of life was fast passing into a new state, and that the present was a transition period, which is generally a period fraught with danger, the old system of religious tuition was wofully in abeyance, while nothing as yet had been brought forward to supplement the deficiency. Sabbath-schools, indeed, had even already been introduced into the country; but they were not only insignificant in point of number, but regarded as a dangerous novelty nay, even regarded as a libel upon our covenanting and well-educated Scotland, whose religious character now stood so high among the nations of Christendom. And yet, all the while, there were thousands, nay, myriads of children for whom no one cared, and who were growing up in ignorance and profligacy, while every year was increasing the evil. Scotland, as is too often the case, was contentedly reposing upon her past character and achievements, and therefore blind to the present emergency. To this educational plan, therefore, so ungracious, and yet so needful, John Campbell directed his efforts. He opened a large Sabbath-school in the old Archers' Hall; and finding it succeed, he opened another in the hall of the Edinburgh Dispensary. Encouraged by the benefits that attended this bold experiment upon the capital, and by the Countess of Leven, and several of our Scottish aristocracy, whose religious patriotism was awake to the true interests of their country, he now
