OVER- WORK. 217 



there is a burning which consumes the earthen vessel. 

 While Miller rejoiced in spirit as a strong man to run a 

 race, his body and brain gave unmistakeable evidence 

 that the pace bore hard upon him. Hour after hour he 

 would sit writing, until the letters danced before his eyes 

 and every nerve tingled under the strain. Heedless of 

 exposure, and working deep into the long winter nights, 

 he caught influenza. No matter ; he would not pause ; 

 he would not lay aside the pen which he had taken up 

 in the cause of his Church and his country. The giddi- 

 ness of mere exhaustion became the semi-delirium which 

 accompanies inflammatory affections of the lungs and 

 pleura. Had the intense excitement of the conflict been 

 suspended, he would probably have fallen into a state of 

 prostration like that which overtook his father in the 

 sea-fight,- who, while the guns continued to roar, did the 

 work of two men, and, when they ceased, fell upon the 

 deck more feeble than a child. Miller grew haggard in 

 the conflict, but he never flinched. 



The darkest hour, however, was now past, and streaks 

 of dawn appeared on the horizon. In April, 1840, he 

 was joined by Mrs Miller, who brought with her his infant 

 daughter, Harriet. It was a dark and dreary evening 

 when Mrs Miller saw his figure, in grey suit and plaid, 

 looming through the mist on Granton pier. Her 

 presence, she found, was much needed. Miller looked 

 ill, and his circumstances were comfortless. His sitting- 

 room was dingy with dust and littered with papers. 

 The lodgings were kept by a widow, who, with her 

 family, occupied the rest of the floor. One of the 

 sons took the style of artist, and sat painting in the 

 principal sitting-room. Another cultivated poetry. The 

 only daughter spent a large part of her time in the 

 practice of singing, with a view to appearing before the 



