The late John Turnbull. 405 



middle life he spent a twelvemonth in Egypt, the Holy Land, 

 and Syria, he brought home with him a portfolio of sketches, 

 not only of unusual interest, but of great artistic merit ; and 

 certain water colour drawings of Old Edinburgh, which he made 

 in days gone by in the early morning, are well worthy of being 

 preserved, and are evidences of the energy of the man who, with 

 a long day's work before him, could get up at four or five in the 

 morning to prosecute the art which he loved, 



*' Mr Turnbull was also a good sportsman, and until he was 

 injured by a fall some years ago, he was an absolutely untiring 

 walker. No day was too long, no country too severe for him. 

 He was on the Commission for the Peace for, and was a Deputy 

 Lieutenant of Berwickshire. The fall to which we have referred 

 occurred some ten years ago, and was occasioned by a slip of the 

 foot when running down the street to seek shelter from a sudden 

 shower. He was greatly shaken and bruised, and for weeks 

 could not leave his bed. When on a fair way to recovery he 

 was attacked by an illness which in his weakened state bore 

 heavily upon him, and from the effects of which he never wholly 

 recovered. He was able to resume business, and subsequently 

 enjoyed fair health, but he was never again the youthful man 

 which, notwithstanding advancing years, he had been prior to his 

 accident;— youthful we mean in body, because otherwise Mr 

 Turnbull's friends never could think of him as old, notwith- 

 standing his threescore years and ten, because he had to the end 

 the joyous nature and the keen sympathies of youth. 



" About a fortnight ago he received a chill in the discharge of 

 his official duties as Convener of the County, and alarming 

 symptoms showed themselves. He however rallied, and was 

 able to be out, and last week appeared to be almost restored to 

 his ordinary health ; but early on Saturday morning, 20th June 

 1891, he was attacked with spasms of the heart, and almost 

 before assistance could reach him, expired. 



"Mr Turnbull was never married ; he has left a host of friends, 

 and we do not believe a single enemy. The history of his life 

 may be summed up in a single sentence. — He was one who did 

 with all his might the duty which lay nearest to his hand, and 

 who sought no higher reward than the approval of his own 

 conscience." 



Upon many an excursion to the meetings of the Berwickshire 

 Naturalists' Club have I been present with Mr Turnbull, and 



