Poor fellow! whether hastened on by this event I know not, but he struggled for three weeks thereafter in a fever, and it took our united care and love to pull him through. The Lord, however, restored him; and we cast anchor safely in the East India Docks, at London, on 26th August, 1863, having been three months and ten days at sea from port to port. It was 5.30 p.m. when we cast anchor, and the gates closed at six o’clock. My little box was ready on deck. The Custom House officers kindly passed me, and I was immediately on my way to Euston Square. Never before had I been within the Great City, and doubtless I could have enjoyed its palaces and memorials. But the King’s business, entrusted to me, “required haste,” and I felt constrained to press forward, looking neither to the right hand nor to the left. The streets through which I was driven seemed to be dirty and narrow; many of the people had a squalid and vicious look; and, fresh from Australia, my disappointment was keen as to the smoky and miserable appearance of what I saw. No doubt other visitors will behold only the grandeur and the wealth; they will see exactly what they come to see, and London will shine before them accordingly. At nine o’clock, that evening, I left for Scotland by train. Next morning, about the same hour, I reported myself at the manse of the Rev. John Kay, Castle Douglas, the Convener of the Foreign Missions Committee of the Reformed Presbyterian Church, to which I belonged. We arranged for a meeting of said Committee, at earliest practicable date, that my scheme and plans might at once be laid before them. By the next train I was on my way to Dumfries, and thence by conveyance to my dear old home at Torthorwald. There I had a Heavenly Welcome from my saintly parents, yet not unmixed with many fast-falling tears. Five brief years only had elapsed, since I went forth from their Sanctuary, with my young bride; and now, alas! alas! that grave on Tanna held mother and son locked in each other’s embrace till the Resurrection Day. Not less glowing, but more terribly agonizing, was my reception, a few days thereafter, at Coldstream, when I first gazed on the bereaved father and mother of my beloved; who, though godly people, were conscious of a heart-break under that stroke, from which through their remaining years they never fully rallied. They murmured not against the Lord; but all the same, heart and flesh began to faint and fail, even as our Divine Example Himself fainted under the Cross, which yet He so uncomplainingly bore.