of
thirty-six years, the idle life which I have been condemned to
spend in prison, the reward which I have received from men for
my labours, the inconveniences of old age, and other things of
a similar kind, taken in connection with the disgraceful
bondage of the Church and the base perfidy of men. But in vain:
I am still irresolute. Shall I desert my station? Shall I fly
from my native country, from my native Church, from my very
self? Or, shall I deliver myself up, like a bound quadruped, to
the will and pleasure of men? No: sooner than do this, I am
resolved, by the grace of God, to endure the greatest
extremity. Until my fate is fixed, I cannot be free from
anxiety.'

As Melville, however, continued to weigh the invitation to Sedan, it was
more and more borne in upon his mind that it was the call of Providence
and the fulfilment of a presage of which he had often spoken, that he
was destined to confess Christ on a larger theatre; so he decided to
accept it, and left for France on 19th April 1611.

There were six Protestant universities in France, and many of their
Chairs were held by Scotsmen who had been Melville's students in St.
Andrews. In Sedan, an Aberdonian was Principal, and another
fellow-countryman filled the Chair of Philosophy. In this retired
frontier town of France, the scene in our own day of the crowning
disaster to her army which gave the finishing stroke to the Napoleonic
dynasty, Melville spent the remainder of his days; and from it he passed
away to the land that was 'nativest' to him.

Some months after settling in Sedan, he received a letter from his
nephew with all the home news, which was very gloomy. The bishops were
now in their glory. 'If they get the Kingdom of Heaven,' so the
Chancellor Seaton said of them, 'they must be happy men, for they
already reign on earth.' The pulpits were silent: poor nephew James
himself was still in exile, sick, with his heart pierced with many
wounds, and longing that he had the wings of a dove that he might fly
away and be at rest. To this letter Melville replied in a strain of
exuberant cheerfulness:--

'Your letter, my dear James, gave me as much pleasure as it is
possible for one to receive in these gloomy and evil days. We
must not forget the apostolical injunction, "Rejoice always:
rejoice in hope." _Non si male nunc, et olim erit._ Providence
is often pleased to