release. It was then that the all-important subject, which hitherto he had too
much neglected, summoned his attention with an authority that would not be
gainsaid. For what had he spent the past? What provision had he made for
the future? These were questions that occurred through the long days of helplessness and nights of sleeplessness and pain, and he knew that if not answered
here, they would assuredly be repeated, and as certainly must be answered
elsewhere. And thither he felt that he was moving from day to day, and step
by step, under an urgency which no power of earth could retard. The result
of this solemn self-examination was, that Dr. Reid became a Christian in the
true sense of the term. His life, indeed, had been one of unimpeachable honour, and universal kindliness and benevolence; and, as far as a profession of
religion went, he had passed muster among the general file of Christian men.
But now he felt that all his thoughts and studies had been devoted to the things
that are seen and felt, while his futurity had been bounded by time and the
world, which were fast vanishing away. He thus became a Christian, not, however, from selfish and craven fear, but from the same steady conviction and love
of truth that had hitherto directed all his researches ; and even to the last, while
exhibiting the child-like simplicity and humility of his new character, he continued his scientific studies, but purified and elevated by the fresh impulse that
had been given them. And thus he died, rejoicing, even in death, that the
glorious future into which he was about to enter would fully open up to him
those sciences of which as yet he had scarcely learned the alphabet. What are
our studies worth unless they are to be eternal? After more than a year and
a half of intense suffering, Reid entered into his rest on the 30th of July, 1849.
His widow and two daughters, one a posthumous child, survive to lament him.
A simple tablet on the wall of the ancient church-yard of St. Andrews, indicates the place of his interment.
S.
SCOTT, David.—Of this poet-painter, whose whole life was a feverish struggle with great conceptions, and whose artistic productions showed that, had his life been but continued, he might have embodied these conceptions in paintings that would have created a new school of art of him it may truly be said, that a generation must yet pass away, and a new world of living men enter into their room, before his talents are fully appreciated, and their place distinctly assigned. David Scott was the youngest of five children, all sons, and was born either on the 10th or 12th of October, 1806; but only a year after his birth he was the sole surviving child of his parents, the rest having died, with only a few days of interval between each. Like other boys of his standing in Edinburgh, David was sent to study Latin and Greek at the High School; but, like the generality of artists, he made no great proficiency in these languages. Is it that nature has implanted such a different spirit of utterance within the artistic heart, as to make words unnecessary? As his father was an engraver, of respectable attainments in his profession, having had, among other pupils, John Burnet, the engraver of some of Wilkie's best drawings, and John Horsburgh, David had thus, even in his earliest boyhood, such opportunities for pictorial study as formed an excellent training for the profession to which nature had designed him. He also learned the art from his father, and became
