Death's dark angel hovers o'er him; Low our star of goodness falls; Wild laments are unavailing,-- 'Tis the Master gently calls! Dried up is that fount of beauty, Quenched that welling stream of grace; Our sad hearts will bleed with anguish Till in heaven we see his face. All the elders, broken-hearted, Mourn their guiding star; his flock Mourn their pastor, him who helped them To confide in Christ their Rock. Bright above his many virtues Shone the seal of love divine; None can equal his brave spirit,-- None such noble powers combine. Clouds and gloomy shadows gather O'er the church for evermore; Yet, though shaken are her bastions, Her foundations still are sure. In the grove of stately cedars Thou the sweetest branch hast stood; Eloquent thou wast, when preaching Life through Christ's most precious blood. Blameless was thy life-long journey, With the choicest goodness blest; In thy wisdom, sense, and knowledge Thou wast high above the rest. Like the sun thy light was shining, Praising Jesus day by day: Truly thou wast ever ready Through death's vale to take thy way. Chapter XXIV. THE POOLEWE ARTIST. There are few, if any, traces of the existence of artistic knowledge or skill to be met with in the history of Gairloch or among her inhabitants. True some of the ancient weapons display a little artistic decoration, but these or their patterns may have come from other parts. One or two silver brooches of old Celtic designs are to be met with in the parish, and may perhaps be considered evidence of native taste. The arts of architecture, sculpture, and painting, however, have never been practised in Gairloch, at least there are no remains that shew it. In these later years of the nineteenth century an instance has occurred of an intense love of, and feeling for, the art of drawing and painting in a native of Gairloch, so remarkable as to call for special mention here. The instance referred to is in the person of a young man barely yet "of age," named Finlay Mackinnon, a crofter at Poolewe. Whilst doing his duty as a crofter he struggles to progress in art, and has in fact made painting his profession. Enthusiasm for art is his absorbing passion. He is a fine well-built and well conducted young man, above middle height. In manner he is modest and unassuming, and his native Highland courtesy is conspicuous. He has been educated at the Poolewe Public School, and lives with his mother at Mossbank, Poolewe.