It used to be said that none can be counted happy until they die, and certainly the manner of a man's death often throws light upon his previous life, and enables us to judge it as we should not otherwise have been able to do. Ferrier's death was what his life had been: it was with calm courage that he looked it in the face—the same calm courage with which he faced the perhaps even greater problems of life that presented themselves. Death had no terrors to him; he had lived in the consciousness that it was an essential factor in life, and a factor which was not ever to be overlooked. And he had every opportunity, physically speaking, for expecting its approach. In November 1861 he had a violent seizure of angina pectoris, after which, although he temporarily recovered, he never completely regained his strength. For some weeks he was unable to meet his students, and then, when partially recovered, he arranged to hold the class in the dining-room of his house, which was fitted up specially for the purpose. Twice in the year 1863 was he attacked in a similar way; in June of that year he went up to London to conduct the examination in philosophy of the students of the London University; but in October, when he ought to have gone there once more, he was unable to carry out his intention. On the 31st of October, Dr. Christison was consulted about his state, and pronounced his case to be past hope of remedy. He opened his class on the 11th of November in his own house, but during this month was generally confined to bed. On the 8th of December he was attacked by congestion of the brain, and never lectured again. His class was conducted by Mr. Rhoades,[16] then Warden of the recently-founded College Hall, who, as many others among his colleagues would have been ready to do, willingly undertook the melancholy task of officiating for so beloved and honoured a friend. After this, all severe study and mental exertion was forbidden. He became gradually weaker, with glimpses now and then of transitory improvement. So in unfailing courage and resignation, not unwilling to hope for longer respite, but always prepared to die, he placidly, reverently, awaited the close, tended by the watchful care of his devoted wife and children.[17] On the 11th day of June 1864, Ferrier passed away. He is buried in Edinburgh, in the old churchyard of St. Cuthbert's, in the heart of the city, near his father and his grandfather, and many others whose names are famous in the annals of his country.

During these three years, in which death had been a question of but a short time, Ferrier had not ceased to be busy and interested in his work. The dates of his lectures on Greek Philosophy show that he had not failed to carry on the work of bringing them into shape, and though the wish could not be accomplished in its entirety, it speaks much for his resolution and determination that through all his bodily weakness he kept his work in hand. Of course much had to be forgone. Ferrier was never what is called robust, and his manner of life was not conducive to physical health, combining as it did late hours with lack of physical exercise. But in these later years he was unable to walk more than the shortest distance, the ascent of a staircase was an effort to him, and tendencies to asthma developed which must have made his life often enough a physical pain. Still, though it was evident that there could be but one ending to the struggle, Ferrier gave expression to no complaints, and though he might, as Principal Tulloch says, utter a half-playful, half-grim expression regarding his sufferings, he never seemed to think there was anything strange in them, anything that he should not bear calmly as a man and as a Christian. Nor did he talk of change of scene or climate as likely to give relief. He 'quietly, steadily, and cheerfully' faced the issue, be it what it might. The very day before he died, he was, we are told, in his library, busy amongst his books. Truly, it may be said of him as of another cut off while yet in his prime, 'he died learning.'

'Towards his friends during this time,' says his biographer, 'all that was sweetest in his disposition seemed to gain strength and expansion from the near shadow of death. He spoke of death with entire fearlessness, and though this was nothing new to those who knew him best, it impressed their minds at this time more vividly than ever. The less they dared to hope for his life being prolonged, the more their love and regard were deepened by his tender thoughtfulness for others, and the kindliness which annihilated all absorbing concern for himself. In many little characteristic touches of humour, frankness, beneficence, beautiful gratitude for any slight help or attention, his truest and best nature seemed to come out all the more freely; he grew as it were more and more entirely himself indeed. If ever a man was true to philosophy, or a man's philosophy true to him, it was so with Ferrier during all the time when he looked death in the face and possessed his soul in patience.' And, as so often happens when the things of this world are regarded sub specie Æternitatis, the old animosities, such as they were, faded away. It is told how a former opponent on philosophical questions whose criticisms he had resented, called to inquire for him, and when the card was given to him, Ferrier exclaimed, 'That must be a good fellow!' Principal Tulloch, his friend and for ten years his colleague, was with him constantly, and talked often to him about his work—the work on Plato and his philosophy, that he would have liked to accomplish in order to complete his lectures. The summer before his death they read together some of Plato's dialogues which he had carefully pencilled with his notes. He also took to reading Virgil, in which occupation his friend frequently joined with him, and this seemed to relieve the languor from which he suffered. As to religion, which was a subject on which he thought much, although he did not frequently express an opinion, Tulloch says: 'He was unable to feel much interest in any of its popular forms, but he had a most intense interest in its great mysteries, and a thorough reverence for its truths when these were not disfigured by superstition and formalism.' Immortality, as we have seen, meant to him that there is a permanent and abiding element beyond the merely particular and individual which must pass away, and so far it was a reality in his mind. God was a real presence in the world, and not a far away divinity in whom men believed but whom they could not know; but as to the creeds and doctrines of the Church, they seemed far removed from the Essential, from true Reality. Professor (afterwards Principal) Shairp writes: 'In the visits which I made to his bedroom from time to time, when I found him sometimes on chair or sofa, sometimes in bed, I never heard one peevish or complaining word escape him, nothing but what was calm and cheerful, though to himself as to others it was evident that the outward man was fast perishing. The last time but one that I saw him was on a Sunday in April. He was sitting up in bed. The conversation fell on serious subjects, on the craving the soul feels for some strength and support out from and above itself, on the certainty that all men feel that need, and on the testimony left by those who have tried it most, that they had found that need met by Him of whose earthly life the gospel histories bear witness. This, or something like this, was the subject on which our conversation turned. He paused and dwelt on the thought of the soul's hunger. "Hunger is the great weaver in moral things as in physical. The hunger that is in the new-born child sits weaving the whole bodily frame, bones and sinews, out of nothing. And so I suppose in moral and spiritual things it is hunger that builds up the being."'

Professor Veitch, a later colleague at St. Andrews, adds: 'We miss the finely-cut decisive face, the erect manly presence, the measured meditative step, the friendly greeting. But there are men, and Ferrier was one of them, for whom, once known, there is no real past. The characteristic features and qualities of such men become part of our conscious life; memory keeps them before us living and influential, in a higher, truer present which overshadows the actual and visible.' And Professor Baynes speaks of him as one of the noblest and most pure-hearted men that he had ever known, combining 'a fine ethereal intelligence with a most gallant, tender, and courageous spirit.'

Such is the man as he presented himself to his friends even when the shadows were darkening and the last long journey coming very near: a true man and a good; one in whose footsteps we fain would tread, one who makes it easier for those who follow him to tread them too. His work was done; it might seem unfinished—what work is ever complete? But he had taken his share in it, the little bit that any individual man can do, and had done it with all his strength. And what did it amount to? Was it worth the labour of so many years of toil? Who is there who can reply? And yet we can see something of what has been accomplished; we can see that philosophy has been made a more living thing for Scotland, that a blow has been struck against materialistic creeds, or beliefs which are merely formal and without any true convincing power. It may not have been much: the work was but begun, and it was left to others to carry that work on. But in philosophy, as in the rest, it is the first step that costs, and amid great difficulty and considerable opposition Ferrier took that step. He left much unexplained; he dwelt too much in the clouds, and did not try to solve the real difficulties of personal, individual life; he did not show how his high-flown theories worked in a world of strife and struggle, of sin and sorrow. He could only be said to have struck a keynote, but that keynote as far as it went was true, and the harmonies may be left to follow.

"FAMOUS SCOTS" SERIES.

Some Opinions of the Press on

ADAM SMITH.

By HECTOR C. MACPHERSON.

"The style is pleasant, and the treatment luminous. The monograph, as a whole, should be found attractive and informing."—Globe.

"Smith's life is briefly and clearly told, and there is a good deal of independent criticism interspersed amidst the chapters on the philosopher's two principal treatises. Mr. Macpherson's analysis of Smith's economic teaching makes excellent reading."—Echo.

"His personal and intellectual career, so far as the limits of the 'Famous Scots' Series permitted, is clearly and entertainingly presented by Mr. Macpherson."—Morning Leader.

"The book is of great price. It is complete, proportioned, vivid, the picture of a great man, and with all its brevity, worthy of his greatness."—Expository Times.

"Interesting both as a contribution to the literature of political economy, and as a sketch of the career of one of Scotland's most illustrious sons."—Publishers' Circular.

"The monograph is a clear and able exposition and criticism of its subject. It deserves a prominent place in the series it belongs to."—Bookman.

"An interesting and lively study of the English founder of political economy, this little book is remarkable as a whole-hearted vindication of the Cobdenic ideas of international policy. The author considers it to be Adam Smith's chief achievement that he has demonstrated with scientific completeness that Free Trade, as Cobden happily expressed it, is the international law of God Almighty."—Spectator.

"This little book is written with brains and a degree of courage which is in keeping with its convictions. It has vision, too, and that counts for righteousness, if anywhere, in political economy."—Speaker.

"A sound and able piece of work, and contains a fair and discerning estimate of Smith in his essential character as the author of the doctrine of Free Trade, and consequently of the modern science of economics."—Glasgow Herald.

"The writer of this biography deserves to be warmly congratulated on the result of his labour. He has written, to my mind at least, one of the best of the series of 'Famous Scots,' and has enshrined the author of the 'Wealth of Nations' in a manner at once attractive, interesting, and instructive."—Northern Figaro.

"Of Adam Smith the man there are some interesting stories in this volume."—Academy.

"This book is one warmly to be commended as among the very best of a notable series."—Kilmarnock Standard.

"The story of Smith's life is plainly but interestingly told, with occasional graphic descriptions of the society of his time; but it will undoubtedly be as an exposition of the philosophical questions involved that the book will be most highly prized."—Daily Free Press.

"It is a biography with a specific purpose, and this purpose is admirably worked out. In some respects, indeed, Mr. Macpherson's object is educational. Not content with doing justice to the great master of economic science, he shows what we owe to other workers in the same school of thought."—Leeds Mercury.

"Those who have read Mr. Macpherson's 'Thomas Carlyle,' with which this highly interesting series was opened, will turn with pleasure and expectancy to the volume just issued. Mr. Macpherson has given us a volume much above the average of the series both in literary merit and thoughtfulness. We strongly recommend this excellent pen-and-ink portrait, of the man who gave Britain the key to the wealth of the world, of our fellow-students."—Student.

"One of the best of an admirable series."—Scots Pictorial.

"An admirable monograph."—London Daily Mail.

"A thoughtful and capably written monograph."—Liverpool Daily Post.

"Mr. Macpherson states the facts most admirably, and he has such a knowledge of the movements and events of the times in which Smith lived that he is able to make an excellent use of them as showing how they influenced such a thinker as the author of the 'Wealth of Nations,' and how, in turn, he was able to change the trend of the thinking of his age."—Perthshire Courier.

Mr. Herbert Spencer says: "I have learned much from your sketch of Adam Smith's life and work. It presents the essential facts in a lucid and interesting way. Especially am I glad to see that you have insisted upon the individualistic character of his teaching. It is well that his authority on the side of individualism should be put forward in these days of rampant Socialism, when the great mass of legislative measures extend public agency and restrict private agency; the advocates of such measures being blind to the fact that by small steps they are bringing about a state in which the citizen will have lost all freedom."