CHAPTER II.

TAKING UP THE CLOAK.

Amongst the friends of Duff there was one to him especially dear; this young man's name was John Urquhart. Theirs was a love to last unto death, and even after death, for its strength was this: that both the friends adored the same Lord, both delighted in His service, and both looked forward to dwelling together in a bright home beyond the grave.

Often when Duff went in holiday time to his parents' house, he talked to them much about John Urquhart. He told how one day Urquhart, addressing his follow-students, had told them that he was going to devote himself to Missionary work, and charged every one of his companions to think seriously over the subject of spreading the Gospel in heathen lands. The name of John Urquhart had grown quite familiar to the parents of Alexander Duff, from the accounts of him given to them by their son, as he sat and talked with them by the cheerful fire-light in their home amidst the Grampian Hills.

Perhaps Duff's mother sometimes thought, "I am glad that it is Urquhart and not my Aleck who is going so far away. My clever son will be a pastor and dwell near us, and I shall hear him when he stands in the pulpit, preaching the Word with that eloquence which every one praises! I shall watch his success, oh! with what gladness and pride! I wonder if Urquhart has a mother, and, if so, how she can bear to part with such a son! I am thankful that my Aleck is not to be a Missionary like his friend."

A time arrived when Alexander Duff came home for his winter vacation with a sad heart and a burdened mind. His parents welcomed him, as usual, with tender love, and he brightened up to cheer them; nothing seems to have passed at first to awaken his mother's fears. Doubtless she spread the table with the nice bannocks of barley meal which she had prepared with her own hands, and stirred the fire to a brighter blaze, and fondly gazed on the face of her son, now a fine young man in the prime of his strength. Duff sat and talked of many things, for when he returned from college he had always much to tell, and he related stories with such spirit, that it was ever a pleasure to listen. But it surprised Duff's parents that he did not so much as mention John Urquhart, the favourite friend who used to be a principal theme of his talk.

"What of your friend Urquhart?" at last exclaimed the father.

A change came over the face of Duff. Doubtless his heart beat faster, not only because his father's word had touched a wound, but because the moment had come for him to say something which he too well knew would give his dear hearers pain.

"Urquhart is no more!" cried Duff, thus suddenly announcing the death of the youth who had devoted himself to Missionary work, but who had been summoned early to his rest before he could enter on such labours. Then, gathering courage to say what he felt must be said, Duff slowly and wistfully added, perhaps glancing at his poor fond mother, "What if your son should take up his cloak?" By which he meant, should take up his Mission work and go out to India in his place. "You approved the motive that directed the choice of Urquhart, you commended his high purpose." Then Duff added the words which announced his own dedication to the cause, words which must have thrilled to his parents' souls, "'The cloak is taken up.'"

The father and mother were at first too much startled to speak. We are not told what followed. The parents were pious indeed, but they may have felt somewhat as holy Abraham felt when called on by God to offer up the only son whom he loved. We do not know whether the mother threw her arms round the neck of her son and wept, or if the father's face betrayed an inward struggle. We only know that both parents consented at last to part with their hope and pride, never perhaps in this world to behold his dear face again. They would not hinder him from obeying the call of his God, heard in his childhood's dream,—"Come up hither, I have work for thee to do."

And what was this work taken up by Duff, as a legacy from his friend, a work for which he was ready to leave and to suffer all?

Ere the Lord Jesus left earth He gave a last charge to his disciples, "Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature."

In the command followed a promise, "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end."

Obeying that command, and resting on that promise, from the earliest ages Christians have gone forth to give glad tidings of salvation to other nations. Men, aye and women, have cheerfully left country and home to say to those thirsting for eternal life,—

"'Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters!' We have found the Fountain of life, and we bid you also come and drink. Oh! Weary and heavy-laden with the burden of sin, come to Him who has taken away 'our sin.' Christ has opened the door of heaven to us, and we would not enter alone. Come dear brothers—sisters, come Hindu, Mahomedan, Sikh, come all ye children of men, share with us the inheritance of glory, share with us the Kingdom of Heaven!"

What Duff thought of a Missionary's calling may be shown from his own words. A Missionary Committee had offered to send him out to labour in Calcutta, and after much prayer and searching of heart he was able to write thus:—

"I am now prepared to reply to the Committee in the words of the prophet, 'here am I, send me.' The work is most arduous, but is of God and must prosper. Many sacrifices painful to flesh and blood must be made, but not any correspondent to the glory of winning souls to Christ. With the thought of this glory I feel myself almost transported with joy; everything else appears to fall out of view as vain and insignificant."

Mr. Duff was now ordained as a clergyman, and before he departed for India, preached missionary sermons and gave discourses which came with much force from one who was offering himself up, body and soul, for the cause for which he pleaded. In one church, with tears gushing from his eyes, thus the young missionary spoke:—

"There was a time when I had no care or concern for the heathen, that was a time when I had no care or concern for my own soul. When, by the grace of God, I was led to care for my own soul, then it was that began to care for the heathen abroad. In my closet, on my bended knees, I then said to God, 'Oh! Lord! Thou knowest that silver and gold to give to this cause I have none; what I have I give unto Thee; I offer Thee myself, will Thou accept the gift?"

Duff tried to comfort and cheer his parents. He prayed his dear mother not to make an idol of her son. He wrote lovingly to his father,—

"Will you be a loser by so giving me up to the Lord, and so praising Him for His goodness in having called me to so mighty a work? No, God will bless you with the blessing of Abraham, will enrich you with his faith and reward, and will reward you a thousand fold for your willing resignation and cheerful readiness in obeying God's command. The Lord bless you and my dear mother!"

And so Alexander Duff prepared to go forth to a strange land, and a people whose language he knew not, believing it to be likely that he never would return again to his dearly loved Scotland.

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