WILLIAM ROSS. 67 



f My mind is filled with recollections of the joys that 

 are gone, and the dear sainted friend that has left me. 

 I went to her house, but I did not see her waiting my 

 approach, her feet did not sound in the passage as I 

 entered the door ; " my dear Willie " was not heard on 

 my unexpected appearance. The good hand that once 

 nursed me was not stretched out with an air of tender 

 affection towards me ! I looked to the place where she 

 used to sit, but she was not there ; in her bodily shape 

 I did not behold her, yet her image was before me, and 

 all the good she did me was present in my view. What 

 a vacancy is here ; what a change has death made to 

 me ! But I must have done ; the last light of evening 

 is taking its leave. Good-bye.' 



The difference between the character of Miller, who 

 met every check and insult with pugnacity, and that of 

 Ross, whose gentleness was feminine, and who could not 

 bear to be thought ill of even by those who acted to him 

 meanly and unkindly, tended probably to cement their 

 friendship. The proceedings of Ross on completing his 

 apprenticeship and commencing practice as a house- 

 painter on his own account, illustrate in a touching man- 

 ner his simplicity and kindliness. The master who had 

 enjoyed his services for five years, and valuable services 

 they were, for William's talent in his vocation was 

 eminent, seems to have quite cast him off when his 

 term expired. He writes to Miller : 



' Want stared me in the face, and, having determined 

 not to be a burden to any, I meant to leave, if I possibly 

 could, the place ; for though I had no prospect of em- 

 ployment, I deemed it better to starve among strangers 



(if nothing else awaited me) than in this country 



On the Tuesday after you had left me I waited on Mr , 



