1843-44. HIS BAPTISM. 321 



am getting very tired of summer work, and longing for the 

 country. We have as good as settled to return to our old quar- 

 ters at Morningside. Two ladies, a crow, and one or two cats, 

 are the present inhabitants of the cottage." 



A month previously he had told Dr. Cairns, " I have been 

 baptized by immersion, having satisfied myself that it was the 

 scriptural and most ancient method, and desiring, since I had 

 the choice, to realize as fully as possible in the symbolical rite, 

 the application of such passages as 'buried with Christ in 

 baptism/ etc. But I incline strongly to consider the mode 

 unimportant, and to believe that affusion of water is all that is 

 implied in the idea of baptism. My mind is still quite unde- 

 cided as to the question of the proper objects of the ordinance, 

 and I look for your assistance in solving the difficult and im- 

 portant problem when you return." George's parents belonging 

 to the Baptist persuasion, he had not been baptized in infancy, 

 and therefore no choice was now left him except as to the mode. 

 The rite was performed by the friend and pastor of his early 

 years, the Eev. Dr. Innes, for whom he ever retained an affec- 

 tionate regard. His views as to believers being the proper 

 subjects of baptism became very decided in later years, yet with 

 no tinge of sectarianism or bigotry, from which he was unusu- 

 ally free. The early admiration of the Episcopalian form of 

 worship, above that of other religious bodies, passed away with 

 the dreams of youth, and he united himself with the Congrega- 

 tional Church under the care of the Eev. Dr. W. L. Alexander, 

 a union only dissolved by death. 



Nearly two months were spent in his favourite retreat, from 

 which we find a letter, dated " Sleepy Hollow," describing its 

 attractions : " This is a most sweet spot, and no day is more 

 delightful here than Sabbath. I miss the prayers of my 

 brethren much ; the sermons far less. Here I have hosts of 

 precentors, who lift up a stave whenever they have a mind, and 

 I never lift staves at them. The blackbirds begin to know me, 

 and a little bird (name unknown), on a tree above my head, 

 sings a Te Deum laudamus of three notes, of which I never 

 tire. The delight I feel in gazing at flowers and insects, and 

 watching the trees grow, the shadows on the hills, and the 



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