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Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Atre reproduit en un seul clichA, 11 est filmA A partir de I'angle supArieur gauche, de gauche A droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images nAcesseire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mAthode. y errata Id to nt ne pelure, i9on A 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 ^ V /'J TI , ..TaiN M Y THE NIOHT OF DEATH ^ SER MOIST, Preached on the 7th Oct., 1860, BEING THE FIRST SABBATH AFTER THE FUNERAL OF THE HONOURABLE PETER M'GILL, BY THE REV. WILLIAM SNOBGRASS, MINISTER OF ST. PAUL'S CHURCH, MONTREAL. " Tho night coineili, when iiv Cwi.ek & Srp\ i:N-('>N, 41 '•'r FnANrojs Xavier ^^treet, • « ' _ ___ 1860. ' 4 • . • ' . • • . * • • • • • . • • •••••• • . . • , • , I i THIS 8EKMON 19 DEDICATED TO THE '1 MONTREAL, 10LELY FROM THE SINCERE RESPECT WHICH, IN COMMON WITH THOSE WHO HAVE REQUESTED ITS PUBLICATION, THE AUTHOR CHERISHES FOR THE MEMORY OF A BELOVED FRIEND. S E K M O N . Tohn ix. 4 —The night comelli when no man can work. It is evident from the context that these words of our Blessed Lord are directly applicable to him- self, and that, viewed in this light, they have a peculiar and profound significance. They were spoken while the day-time of his busy life on earth, Avith all its marvellous v/oiks of might and grace, for the glory of God and the good of man, was yet in course. Having been made like unto his brethren, in respect of the real lowly humanity he assumed, he became subject to the divine arrange- ment which assigns to each of us a term of exis- tence here, — a day of life, of longer or shorter duration, but exactly and unalterably fixed,— and to the divine will which prescr'-nis to each a cer- tain amount of work to be done vvithin the given years of his pilgrimage, whether they be many or few. In His case there was a great, a glorious, a matchless work to be accomplished, and the pe- riod allotted for its performance was very short, and therefore crowded with the proofs of his un- wearied diligence in doing it, and with the ever increasing and brightening displays of his fitness and sufficiency to carry it forward to its final com- I 6 pletion. This most wise and I'aithiul worker is our exaiiipio here, as in every other part of Chris- tian conduct, in that he always lived in view ol the solemn and momentous hour, which was to close his appointed labouring day, and proclaim his arduous undertaking for the redemption of man from guilt and misery, and his recovery to long lost purity and happiness, in all its magnitude and grandeur, for ever finished. Hence the fre- quent touching allusions which he made to the time when he would offer up himself a sacrifice for the sins of the world, and by which he shewed the intensity of his gracious desire and ardent zeal to fulfil an event whereon all human weal and very much of the divine glory were depending. It was in the nearing prospect of this determined limit to his antecedent ministry that he uttered the words of the text. The night of death was close at hand ; and, duly measuring the residue of his work by what remained of the day for doing it, he found a reason and an argument for unceas- ing application. And, though after his death many great works peculiar to his mediatorial office would receive his attention and engage his unresting activity, he would not have the shades of intervening night to fall upon his closed eyes and powerless arms, as he expired upon the cross, until he had performed every preparatory act of his righteous and holy life. Whatever would re- quire to be said of the distinctive circumstances U c f ;s of Christ's self-application of these words, were we entering upon a full discussion of this parti- cular topic, we may safely affirm it, at least in point of fact. But it is apparent from the very language in which it is expressed, that the truth contained in the text is characterised by an obvious pertinency and universal concernment to mankind. It is a warning and admonitory formula for all the living who would not live in vain, but who, knowing they have a work to do, and a time as well as the means for doing it, would strive to acquit themselves manfully and faithfully in the several spheres of labour allotted to them. It is a sacred proverb from the lips of Jesus, intended to sanc- tify the shortness and uncertainty of our mortal existence, by reminding us of the great end for which we have been made and the lofty aims by which we should be governed, and by guarding us effectually against the disappointment and danger of an idle, unprofitable career. It is, moreover, a declaration of the deeply interesting circumstance, that, in respect of all the actual con- ditions of humanity, its sinfulness alone excepted, there exists a common ground for the Saviour and the sinner ; around which, the Son of Man, repre- senting the whole brotherhood whose nature he assumed, diffuses the hallowing grace of his won- drous condescension in becoming one of us, and from which he pours into the hearts of his earnest 8 I I<>ll()wer8 tho roviviiitr and aiiitii:itin<^ iiiliiicnrc (»l his own example of submission and obedience to thr' Father's will. As a Master, ever solicitous of the welfare of his servants, he reminds them of the coming ni:N and tlio tliin*^' si;[rnj|i(.(|. Theisc* f)artiriilars arc all included and very (;l(»arly ex- pressed under two ^jencnal heads — First, tlie cer- tainty, and Second, the eliect, of the coining night of death. I. — 7.1ie certainty. "The night cometh." This relates not to the exact time and peculiar manner of death's (lotning. To these circum- stances the symbol is inap])lical)le. We can tell to a minute every return of ni«iht during any num- ber of future years, and wc^ can des(!ril)e by well known marks the mode of its approach, as its deepening shades, falling upon the track of the retiring snn, begin to prevail, until the tliickuess of their darkness completely shuts out the light of day. Not so with death. This last, most ruth- less enemy of man, uncertain and insidious, sup- plies no data by which, in any instance, we can ever surely know, or even nearly guess, the hour of his premeditated advent, or by which we can ever indicate what one of the almost countless ways at his command he will employ to extin- guish the lamp of life. He is bound by no physi- cal law, such as in the natural world ensures the occurrence of particular events at stated times discoverable by us, and always at every repetition of its movements shows itself by the same phcno- 10 mena. As far as the time or manner of his com- ing is concerned, it is not like the night, but like a thief in the night, who is too regardful of his expected plunder to give any intimation of his approach, and who therefore cometh in a night and at an hour thereof when he is not looked for ; and then, after his depredations have been com- mitted, and he has made good his flight, the in- mates of the house are apprized of his visit by the damage and loss they have sustained. Thus, man never knows when death is at the door, and too often he refuses to believe that he is near, until his own frame is clutched in the cold and stiffen- ing grasp from which there is no release, or until he realizes the awful presence of the destroyer, in what to him is ofttimes worse than death, — the smitten, lifeless form of a darling child, a revered parent, an affectionate partner, or a bosom friend. The mother who retires to rest, thankful that she has heard her little prattler lisp his prayer by her knee, and that she has invoked upon his head her evening benison from the God of heaven, may awake to kiss his death-closed lips, or startle as she touches his frigid brow. The mail, which we expect to bring us only tidings of health and hap- piness enjoyed by loved ones in their far distant homes, informs us that other billows than those of the Atlantic now separate them from us. The young, full of promise and big with hope, are prematurely snatched away. The full grown man, 11 who pursues his plans with unabatiiig vigour and ambition, mapping out his future course and figur- ing up the successes he anticipates, drops down into the furrow with his hand upon the plough. Even the aged, who bend and totter as they walk beneath the burden of their years, and they who have been long pining and wasting under some slow but treacherous malady, are frequently sur- prised by the unlooked-for summons which at length bids them depart and be no more. Thus uncertain are the movements of death, and thus varying the mode of his operations ; and in these respects the figure of the natural night is inap- propriate. But when we think of death in its actual hap- pening unto all, whatever be the light and shade which play around the dwelling-place of mortals, and whatever be the hopes and fears which alter- nately possess the hearts of the living, we see that there is something here which may be fitly repre- sented by the coming of the natural night. The original law of separation, which, as we read in the first page of Genesis, was appointed to divide the day and night, and which includes the law of their perpetual succession, is still in force, not to be interrupted or repealed while this globe shall continue to perform its diurnal revolutions. As long as the works of creation shall endure, this memorial of them shall stand, and by its conti- nuance supply a constantly recurring emblem of 12 the certainty of man's latter end, when he lieth down to sleep " the sleep that knows no waking" to the scenes of earth and time. As confidently as we expect the dawning day to decline, a few hours hence, into the darkness of night, so surely should each man reckon on iiis approaching death. The day of life may be long or short, calm or troubled, well spent or misimproved, but its close is in the deep cold gloom which every opening grave projects upon our path. No law which regulates the seasons in their course, and makes them productive of that variety which is so accommodating and agreeable to the inhabi- tants of this world, is more unyielding or uncon- trollable than this. The terms of the irrevocable fiat read thus — " It is appointed unto men once to die." And we are daily witnessing the mourn- ful effects of this appointment, as the king of terrors ceaselessly plies his cruel work, driving right and left his well-aimed, fatal shafts, sparing neither youth nor beauty, dignity nor wealth, use- fulness nor honor, but hurrying away the subjects of his resistless power and universal dominion, regardless of their rank, and character, and con- nections, to replenish the dark but spacious store- house of the tomb. Wherever there is life, whe- ther in the crowded city or secluded hamlet, the gorgeous palace or the dingy attic, there will be seen sooner or later the grim features of death ; there will be felt his terrible, relentless work. 13 The greater the number of the living, the more freqiieat their lamentation for the dead ; for it is the drv*ad spoiler's business, unshackled by any- such fixed times and seasons as regulate the suc- cession of light and darkness and the blooming and fading of mere material things, to be conti- nually turning man's little day into his last long night, and thus and ever strangely blending the joy which is proclaimed when one is born with the sorrow which is caused when another dies. Know then, O man, whosoever thou art, that this thy day of merciful visitation, and grave re- sponsibilities, and appointed labour, is hastening on to its inevitable close ! Is it with thee only the morning of thy life, and art thou saying to thyself, " I have many years to live" ? Thy day may have neither noon nor evening. Is it with thee the prime of manhood, when conscious vi- gour, and buoyant hope, and joyous prosperity fill thy soul with sunshine, and art thou looking for- ward to a long career of active usefulness ere this, the brightness of thy season begins to decline ? Before the stars appear again in the nocturnal heavens thou mayest be numbered with the dead. Is it with thee the day when the keepers of the house tremble, and the strong men bow them- selves, and the grinders cease because they are few, and those that look out of the windows are darkened?* Kindly would we speak to thee, old * Ecclpsiastes xii. 3. 1(= 14 man I Hast thou toiled unselfishly for thy coun- try's and thy kmdred's good 7 Hast thou loved and served thine own and thy fathers' God 7 Art thou rejoicing now in the faith and hope which are by Jesus Christ, the best remaining portion of thy life ? Have patience yet a little longer. The shades of night are gathering and closing around thee, and soon shall thy spirit return to God who gave it, and thy body lie down in the grave's peaceful rest, there to await the dawn of the re- surrection morn. II. The Effect of the coming Night of Death, — " The night when no man can work." Night is the appointed season of rest from the labours of the bygone day. Then the light is withdrawn, and the scenes of noisy, bustling activity are excluded from the view. Then the plodding merchant and the toiling artizan seek in the still dark hours the refreshing and strengthening repose which sleep affords to their strained energies and wearied frames, and which recruits them for the efforts and fatigues of the succeeding day. This is the wise provision of the bountiful Creator, all whose arrangements in the natural world manifest an extensive and wonderful accommodation to our necessities, and everywhere men find it to be the best thing for them to respect as fully as possible the law by which it is secured. Now, in the fall of night's thick curtain, veiling off the outer world, hushing the din in streets and workshops, and 15 rendering all vocations, which require the light of day, unseasonable and unprofitable, if not impos- sible ; in the retirement of all wise and honest workers to the quiet scenes of domestic life ; and especially in the utter unconsciousness of sound untroubled sleep — itself a common Scriptural figure of the state of the departed ; in this, we have a striking emblem of what takes place at death. And, though the greed of gain or the claims of mercy may occasion some exceptions to the ge- neral rule respecting the designed effect ol night, yet as regards the cessation of all work at death there can be none. The text expressly affirms the impossibility of their existence. In the night of death " no man can work." Each man's term of life is the allotted measure of his working day. It describes the space of time to which all his plans and purposes, and all his efforts to accomplish them, are confined. Death brings it to a final close and lays an effec- tual arrest upon every act and scheme, whatever be the stage they may have reached. " For there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wis- dom in the grave." Then, as the toilworn labourer, to whom the evening star or vesper bell announ- ces the accomplishment of his day, returns to his humble cot and retires to his couch of rest, forget- ful of his servitude and all its weariness, man home, and there is an end goes long to all that he doeth under the sun. Then he re- 16 sii»iis his property and his projects into other hands, and ceases to control them any more ibr ever. Then he closes his eyes upon all his earthly aii'airs, and is no more seen in the ahodes of liv- infi^ men. His spirit, whose presence beamed forth intelligence in every feature, and supplied his limbs with strength and vigour, and prompted every pulsation of his beating heart, and circled life through all his veins, quits its material tene- ment, and leaves it to crumble into dust or be- come the prey of worms. This effect of death is universal. It is no respecter of persons, but extends its levelling power to all distinctions. It stops the works of the righteous as well as of the wicked. It seals for ever the char- acter of the just and the unjust. It prevents alike the expression of generous sympathies and the gratification of unholy desires. Under its benumbing influence the premier statesman must let go the helm of national affairs, and the brave warrior lay down his deadly sword, and the skil- ful mechanic drop his ingenious tools. It gives the finishing touch to the most brilliant as well as the most obscure life -history. It crushes the wordling's fondest hopes and terminates the flow of Christian benevolence. It brings the madness of folly and the strength of wisdom to nought. In these two respects, and according to the words of the text, as representing the certainty of death to every one of us and Its effoct in arresting 17 all our works, the emblem of the natural nijrlit. is a most fitting and impressive one. III. Let us consider, in the third place, the right practical bearing of these truths and illus- trations, both in regard to our choice of work and our mode of doing it. Certainly we are not here, in the possession of those noble faculties with which our gracious Creator has endowed us, and in the enjoyment of the numerous precious privi- leges with which we are favoured, to spend our lives in vain. If God has given us a term of life, he has also assigned ny a work, a mission, to the accomplishment of which we may devote our- selves therein. We are not of those who deny the fact or dare suppress the thought of man's accountability to God. We are not of those who have no better creed than this, " Let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die." We accept the revelation of the Divine will which has been addressed to us, as the only safe and sufficient exposition of human duty. We credit the inspir- ed record when it proclaims to us the condition of sin and misery into which the fall has brought us, when it describes our need of some great remedy and assures us of the adequacy and availableness of the heavenly provision it unfolds, when it asserts the immortality of our souls and repre- sents the obligations under which we lie to pre- pare for a coming judgment. And are not these the very first and greatest concerns to which we B II 18 should have regard in our daily work? Do they not atiord abundant light and direction as to the choice which should a^uide us in the selection of our most proper employment? Our chief aim should surely be to serve and glorify God in the true spirit of Christian love and obedience, and to dosow'th animated Zealand unwearied diligence. This is the only honest and honourable course for us to adopt. There are other ways of spending this precious seed-time for eternity. The volup- tuary has his dreams of pleasure ; the worldling has his schemes of covetous, restless ambition ; the trifling dupe of gaiety and folly resorts to his paltry gratifications ; the student toils on by the light of the midnight lamp, seeking the wisdom of natural science and the conceits of human philosophy. But to him who is thoroughly awak- ened To the immortality of his spiritual nature, and to the urgent duty of improving it in the knowledge of divine things, under a prevailing sense of their unspeakable importance, the one great task, to be undertaken first and prosecuted to the last, is that which is expressed in the words of the Apostle, who says, " Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling." What is the value of the present time, if it be not to be spent in preparation for eternity? In what will ever- lasting happiness consist, if not in purity and righteousness as well as peace and joy ? And if in regard to the former we know that it certainly ){} will terminate in tlie nij^lil oi' doulJi, thocii^ii w-e know not liow soon, unci in i'e,i»ard to the latter, that it is impossible to reach or enjoy it williont a better initure than what belon<^s to us as the pos- terity of Adam, there cannot be a more pressini> and imperative demand than that of givini»' ail heed and dilii^enee to make our calling and elec- tion sure. Believe me, you will be all the better citizens, merchants, students, statesmen, soldiers, for being Christians, for the protession of CJu'ist- ianity is not intended to Avithdraw you from the occupations of public life, but so to regenerate and leaven your distempered natures as to qualify you for the faithful discharge of all your duties, in whatever station or sphere they may happen to lie. And let me assure you by all that is certain in the approach of death and aiiectingin its cease- less ravages, and by all that is solemn in the expiring struggle in which mortals close their eyes upon this earthly scene, — the cutting short of the day of grace, the removal of all further opportu- nity of repentance and amendment, the sealing upon the spirit of the mark and character in which it is destined to return to God, and the departure of the soul into the awful confines of eternity — that, not being Christians, whatever else ye may be, and whatever else ye may do, ye can be neither great nor good, either in the estimation of your own consciences or the aj)probation of your God^ While Iherefore it is day- the little, uncertain, M 20 fleeting day, at the close of which you must enter into the dark valley of the shadow of death — I forewarn you to acquit yourselves like men in this momentous business, that so ye may approve your- selves to bo the children of light on whom the darkness cometh not unawares, but who exchange the haziness of time for the bright unsetting glories of everlasting noon. Brethren, an event has recently occurred amongst us, which, though more immediately affecting us, is acknowledged by all to be a matter of public interest, and I judge that in referring to it briefly herOj I am making a suitable improvement and application of the text. One of whom it may be justly said, he was both great and good, well known to you all, and in- deed I may say, in one way or another, to every citi- zen in this community, has been recently removed from the scene of his many activities and trials. Compared with the general duration of man's earthly pilgrimage, his life was a long one, having exceeded somewhat the Scriptural limit of three score years and ten. It is no empty encomium, but a most deserved commendation, to say that it was both a busy and a useful one, too. And this is true, not alone of his own professional pursuits, in which his discreetly regulated and methodically industrious habits of business, his high, well- disciplined mental accomplishments, and the ex- Ill 21 cellent qualiticfc; of his lieart, foiiiud ii rare c' ill •in! I i! < voLirable consideration a»^d elicited his most cor- dial support. The day of his active and useful life has set at length in the night of death. Full of honours as of years he has been removed from amongst us. We have deposited his mortal remains in the narrow house where the weary are at rest. His name lives now upon earth only in the remembrance of his many excellencies, and in the lasting gratitude we owe to God for his valuable services. But we trust that he has received that new name by which the children of God are known in heaven, and that spiritual inheritance which is the incorruptible and eternal portion of all Christ's faithful followers. With this hope let us comfort our souls, and in the example which seems to warrant it let us find en- couragement to work while it is called to-day. We may be greatly inferior to our departed friend in the attainments he possessed and in the ability to use the opportunities with which he was favoured, even should like opportunities present themselves to us, but his God is our God, and his Saviour our friend and brother, merciful to forgive and gracious to aid, and though it be with us comparatively the day of small things, yet neither the cheerful giver nor the busy worker, who strives to do all to the glory of his Father in Heaven, will be despised in that which he doeth. BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. the The distinguished subject of the following sketch was bom at the hamlet of Cree Bridge, in the parish of Monigaff, Wigtonshire, Scot- land, towards the end of August, 17S9. At his baptism, on the 1st of September following, he received the Christian name of Peter, the fam- ily name being M'Cutchon. Like most of the great men whom Scotland has given to the world, he was indebted for his early educa- tion to the parish school, the late Reverend Dr. Black of Montreal, af- terwards his intimate friend and esteemed minister, being one of his companions. In 1809, when he had scarcely completed the twentieth year of his age, he was induced, by his uncle, of whom mention is afterwards made, to emigrate to Canada, whither so many youths have come from the old country and found the fortune and distinction, which, with less scope and more competitors, they would not probably have ac- quired so easily at home. He was accompanied by his brother William, who, di liking this country, remained in it a very short time, went to the West Indies, and died there, Mr. M'Gill in Business. In the month of June of that year he arrived at Montreal, of which he remained a citizen until his death, that is, for a period of somewhat more than half a century, outliving all his cotemporary settlers with a few exceptions. He entered at once upon the service for which he had been previously engaged, that of a clerk in what was then the large and flourishing establishment of Parker, Gerrard, Ogilvy & Co., who carried on business as general merchants. He did not long continue in this subsidiary position, but at the end of a few years he was admitted as a partner in the similar firm of Porteous, Hancox, M'Cutchon & Cringan. In the year 1824, his rising fortune received a large accession on the death of his maternal uncle, the Honourable John M'Gill of York, (now Toronto), a Member of the Legislative Council, and for many years Re- ceiver General of the Pro ince of Upper Canada, who, having no chil- dren of his own, bequeathed to him his extensive and valuable estates, the nephew having previously assumed by Royal Authority the uncle's 26 surnama. " About the same time lie formed a new business connec- tion with Mr. Dovvie of Liverpool, and with him carried on business for some years as M'Giil & Dowie, the name of the firm being subsequently changed to Peter M'Gill & Co. The disastrous times succeeding 1847, followed by the failure of a friend and business correspondent, brought its share of evil to this great house, though its resources were always more than ample to meet all claims. During the last eight or nine years, however, its business has been limited to an adjustment of old affairs. In good or bad times alike the credit of the house was unim- peachable."* His connection with the Bank of Montreal, for a long time the greatest monetary institution on this Continent, and even yet second only to one in regard to capital, should be noticed here. In 1819, the second year of thisBaak's existence, Mr. M^Gill was elected a Direc- tor, having been then only ten years in the coiuitry, and having spent about half that terra in the humble capacity of a clerk. In 1830 the Board of Directors elevated him to the office of Vice-President, and in 1834 to that of President. To this latter oflice he was elected, every year consecutively, until the annual meeting in the month of June last, when his infirmities had increased so much as to disable him from giv- ing any attention to its duties, and he tendered his resignation. In fur- ther illustration of the purely business part of his career, it is to be men- tioned that he was elected Chairman of the St. Lawrence and Cham- plain Railroad Company in December 1834, and served as such from the commencement of the undertaking, the first of the kind in Canada, until the completion of the line between Lapranie and St. John's, when he declined a re-election ; that he was appointed Ciiairman of the Ca- nada Branch of the Colonial Life Assurance Company at its institution in December 1846, which oflice he held till his death ; that in April 1848 he was chosen President of the Montreal Board of Trade, but could not be prevailed upon to hold this office longer than one year ; and that, about the same time, he became a Director in the St. Lawrence and Atlantic Railroad Company, of which he continued to be a very influen- tial member until the amalgamation of that undertaking with the Grand Trunk Rt^ilroad of Canada in 1854, when he became a Director of this new gigantic concern, and retained his position as such until his death. As a man of business Mr. M'Gill was eminent for his intelligence, cau- tiousness, a.id liberal views. The strictly honourable character of all his transactions gained for him the utmost confidence. In one of the numerous public notices, which appeared on the occasion of his death, Montreal tin?:ette, Sopi. 2U, 1860. 27 it is remarked, that *< lie was one o[ those mercliants dI whom it is em- phatically said, their word is as good as their bond," that " his expen- diture and subscriptions on all occasions were characteristic of a Mer- chant Prince," and, as marking the integrity of his Christian principles it is added, that " at a time when working on the Lord's day was com- mon in almost every counting-house in Montreal, he would not give in to the pernicious custom, but took his place in the little Presbyterian Church of which he was a member."* His success was great ; and though interrupted by the heavy losses he sustained on the occasion al- ready mentioned, when a sum of between £40,000 and £50,000 was swept away, these were not incurred by any fault of his, while the manner in which he bore them and provided for them was truly admir- able, showing a resolute determination to maintain his honour, whatever the sacrifice might be. A most pleasing illustration of his generosity must not be omitted here. Though it must often have been a hard mat- ter to find time for the requisite attention demanded by his numerous engagements, he was never at a loss for leisure to promote the interests of applicants for his countenance and aid, and the number of those, for whom he found employment, and who can tell of the trouble as well as delight he took in extending to them the substantial benefit of his pa- tronage, is very great. Mr. M 'Gill's Political Career. He belonged to the Liberal Conservative school of politics, and while his principles of unyielding loyalty to the Crown rendered him a staunch defender of British connection and constitutional government, he was ever alive to the advocacy of internal improvements. In 1832 he was appointed a member of the Legislative Council of Lower Canada, and in 1838 he was called to a seat in the Executive Council. " After the suspension of the constitution in 1837 he was made a member of the Special Council to which were intrusted pro tempore the duties of le- gislation, and on the subsequent restoration of the constitution and union of the Provinces was made a Legislative Councillor for United Canada."! By virtue of this last appointment he had, along with other gentle- men who were Executive Councillors at the Union, by the Queen's in- structions, precedence in the Province of Canada, immediately after Ihe Executive Councillors of the day, carrying on the government.^ ♦ IMoiitrpal Wiliiesst. Sept. 28, 1860. f Montreal Gazette, Srptcmher 29, 1860. 28 Throughout the troublous times extending from 1836 to 1839 he served as President of the Constitutional Society of Montreal, an office which his connection with the government enabled him to fill with special ad- vantage. In the establishment of peace and order at the close of this period, and afterwards in the imion of the Provinces of Lower and Up- per Canada, he witnessed the accomplishment of objects, which he was actively instrumental in promoting. He was offered the Speakership of the Legislative Council ol Canada, by His Excellency, Lord Metcalf, in November 1843, but for /arious reasons he declined the honour. On this occasion he was highly gratified by a mark of great confidence on the part of the Representatives of Lower Canada, the Honourable Mr. Vigor and the Honourable Mr. Quesnel having waited on him, at his hotel in Kingston, on their behalf, to urge him to accept the appoint- ment, as one which would be very satisfactory to them. Subsequently, in 1847, he was appointed Speaker of the Legislative Council and a member of the Executive Council, by Lord Elgin, and served as such until March 1848, when he jesigned with his colleagues in the admin- istration, until his death. He held his seat as a member of the Legislative Council Mr. M'Gill as a Citizen. His exceeding urbanity, generosity, and public spirit procured for him the highest esteem as a citizen, and led him into walks of useful- ness in which the influence of his goodness rendered him eminently serviceable. From the very first he was a member of that most hu- mane and beneficent institution, " The Society of the Montreal Gene- ral Hospital." His name appears in the charter of its incorporation, of date January 30, 1823, and for very many years he was one of its life Governors. At the formation of the Scottish National Society of St. Andrew in 1835, he was elected President and continued to serve as such, by annual election, until November 1842, when private reasons induced him to resist the solicitations with which he was urged to retain the office. On this occasion, on the motion of the Rev. Dr. Mathieson, it was resolved unanimously, " that the warmest thanks of the Society be voted to the Honourable Peter M'Gill, for the valuable services rendered by him to the Society, as its President since its formation, and that the Secretary communicate this vote to Mr. M'Gill, expressing at the same time the regret of the Society on his determination to resign that office. His occupancy of the Presidential chair of this institution did not, how- ever, cease at this time, for in November 1845, he was again elected by 29 acclamation and served one year more, declining a re-election in 1846. In 1839 he was appointed a Lieutenant-Colonel of the Militia and re- tained this rank until his decease. In August 1840, he was raised to the highest civic office, that of Mayor. He was the first Mayor of the city of Montreal under the new act of incorporation, which put this appoint- ment in the gift of the Crown. He would rather have excused himself the acceptance of this honour, and indeed when first offered to him he declined it. This drew forth a communication from the Right Honour- able, the Governor General, D. Poulet Thompson, in which it was re- presented to him, that if he could undertake the duties of the office he would oblige His Excellency, and in his opinion give the Corporation a start which would ensure its success. On further reflection he complied with this entreaty, and continued to act as Mayor until 1st December 1842, when the office was made elective by the Council, and he de- clined to be put in nomination. During his Mayoralty many and great improvements were made in the City, and on his retiring from the Council Board there was passed a unanimous resolution of the members, conveying to him their most sincere thanks for the very gentlemanly and courteous manner in which at all times he had performed his duties, and their expression of deep regret, that one, whose acknowledged ability and services had been pre-eminently useful, was determined not to be put in nomination at the ensuing municipal election. Besides being an active promoter of civic improvements and a generous patron of charitable institutions, he was also a warm friend of the educational interests of the City. He was President of the Canadian School So- ciety of Montreal, and a Governor of the University of McGill College from the time of its re-organization by an amended charter, in 1852, until his decease. Freemasonry was also a subject of much zealous in- terest to him, and among some memoranda he has left occurs the follow- ing paragraph ; — " I was appointed in 1846 by the Earl of Zetland (Grand Master of England) Provincial Grand Master of Masons for the District of Montreal and William Henry, and in 1847, Provincial Grand Superintendent of Royal Arch Masonry in the Province of Canada, the former of which I resigned in 1850, on account of my health. The brethren on the occasion manifested much fraternal regard and regret." Mr. M'Gill as a Churchman and Christian. He wap elected President of the Auxiliary Bible Society of Montreal in 1834, and served as such until 1843, when he declined a re-election, and the following resolution was passed at the twenty-second Annual Meeting on the 25th of January, 1843 : — m "'Whereas the Honourable Peter M'Ciill, who has for many years been President of this Society, has expressed his desire to withdraw from this office, on account of the pressure of other engagements; and whereas this General Meeting of the Society cannot part with their va- lued President, without expressing their sense of the services he has rendered, therefore it is resolved — 1st, That the cordial thanks ol this Meeting be offered to the Honourable Peter M