274 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP. X. 



" They accuse Christians of a selfish caring for their own 

 souls. They forget that in this world every man must take 

 wages ; that no amateurs are permitted ; that invisibly be- 

 side us stand at every moment the Lord of Light and the 

 Prince of Darkness, to press into our hands the wages we 

 have earned, whether we will or no ; and that beyond the 

 gates of death they will appear in their own persons and 

 give us the last instalment, those abiding wages which shall 

 multiply themselves through eternity. I will not remind you 

 of what Christ has promised to those who prefer everything 

 to Him : I will be content to remind you that to have grace 

 given us to prevail against temptation is a proof that the 

 Saviour already loves us, is also a present joy, and the 

 assurance of joys yet in store." 



After a visit to London, on Government business, in 

 June, a short but hard-earned holiday was spent, two 

 months later, at Melrose, whence he writes : 



" DEAR MOTHER, This place is called Mel-Rose, or 

 Rosa Mellis, i.e., Honey Rose, from a famous rose which 

 used to grow here, and drop honey from its leaves. That 

 was in the time of the pious old monks, but in these de- 

 generate days, the roses have ceased to drop anything but 

 their leaves, and occasionally a caterpillar, and are turned 

 into cabbage roses. . . . Yesterday we discovered the 

 Tweed, after a day and a half's search for it, and found 

 it very thick and muddy; I am afraid it has been adul- 

 terated." He spent some hours of each day writing under 

 the trees of the Abbey Garden, kindly thrown open to the 

 public by its proprietor, Mr. Tait of Prior Bank. " I am 

 taken for an artist, and have been seen by many parties 

 sketching Melrose Abbey ; and why should I take a fit of 

 egotistical obstinacy, and deny that I ever used the old 



