One of the little beds was moved into the verandah of the old bungalow, and there he lay for some hours on Sabbath the 9th November. When Mrs. E. was reading aloud to him, he interrupted her, "Ah, darling, how little we remember that we have only one life! Surely we should use them very differently if we thought of that more–one life here–so much to be done, and so little accomplished." He found it an easy position to kneel and lean forward, and he would remain a long time in that position. But again they must move on. The dandy, with pillows, could be made pretty comfortable, and he seemed easier when moving. They held straight for Goojerat. Every morning forty coolies gathered, talking, shouting, quarrelling over the luggage, &c., and nothing would induce them to be quiet. The next march was very long to Nowshera, and the bearers let the dandy fall one time. The following night was a restless one, and the supply of candles failed. As Mrs. E. was nearly exhausted with sorrow, travelling, and want of sleep, Dr. Elmslie insisted on her taking the dandy, and sending it back for him. "The next was our last march, a very long one, very rough, and the bearers were not good, and somehow I could not make the pillows suit the wearied frame. How much of agony there was in this constant journeying to him in body, and to me in spirit! Many a time I cried aloud, and made the rocks and mountains echo with my sorrow, when he was carried on out of sight and hearing." When he reached the first stage, his energies were all but at an end. On arriving at Bhimbar, as the tent was not ready, the bedding was laid on a charpae, and he lay down. "How thankful I am," said Mrs. E., "that we are safely here." "Ah, yes, safely, so far as our limbs are concerned–no broken legs or arms, but I feel there is something wrong here,"–and Dr. Elmslie put his hand on his chest. He was much worse. After going to bed, the pain became unbearable, and he cried, "I cannot stand this pain and sleeplessness any longer!" A dose of morphia was administered, and he got a little sleep. They were still thirty miles from Goojerat, and it became an anxious question if he could ever reach it. The dhoolie was made soft and comfortable,–they had scarcely started when he became very ill. "My bearers would not keep me alongside of his dhoolie, and I used to leap from the dandy and fly to his side just to see him, and then shocked, terrified, go back again, feeling like Hagar in the wilderness, and crying to the Lord to send help lest William should die." A special messenger despatched to Goojerat brought the civil surgeon to the place where they rested for the night, and he whispered hope. As the doctor drove out, he met Mr. Perkins, the new commissioner for Goojerat, and handed him Mrs. E.'s note, so that when the sufferers reached the bungalow, Mr. and Mrs. Perkins appeared, and did everything that Christian love and sympathy could suggest. Cheered by these friends of Jesus, with a doctor at hand, and everything necessary for the invalid now easily procurable, hope revived for a brief space, but the disease steadily progressed, and on the evening of the 18th November, Dr. Elmslie quietly fell asleep in Jesus.

"I gazed once more," writes Mr. Clark, "on his well-known features as he lay peaceably in his coffin. There was an expression of repose on his face,–there was even a smile, the smile of rest and victory; and we laid him there to rest on the battlefield, where the whole Punjaub had been won by English arms; and there he quietly sleeps awaiting the resurrection of the dead."

"I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness which the lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day."

CHAPTER XXI.
CONCLUSION.

"The missionaries, lately assembled in conference at Allahabad," writes the Editor, Indian Medical Gazette of January 7, 1873, "seemed unanimous in their belief regarding the advantages to be derived from the presence of medical missionaries in the country; and we most certainly join in this opinion. Men, like the late Dr. Elmslie of Kashmir, are indeed an ornament to any profession, and, independently of their missionary labour, must influence for good any society into which they may cast their lot. We most sincerely desire to see medical men of this stamp scattered over India; we look upon them as being among the very best representatives of the English character–well educated, liberal-minded individuals, pursuing with earnestness the healing art, not for the greed of gold, but that they may spend and be spent in doing the work of their Master."

"One could not long be with dear Doctor Elmslie," writes Mr. Wade, "without seeing how eminently he was fitted by nature and grace to be the pioneer of Christianity in a heathen land. His active habits called for strength of mind and body, which were given in a great degree. His faith and patience kept him labouring without despair or despondency in a good, but most difficult work. His great soundness of judgment, and decision of character, and firmness of purpose, were of inestimable value in guiding the frail medical mission bark through all the stormy billows which threatened, time after time, either to engulph it, or to strand it upon the shores of the Punjaub. His prudence preserved him and the mission from many entanglements, yet, when God's honour was concerned, nothing could keep him quiet; and sometimes did he stir up wrath and make enemies by the bold way in which he rebuked vice. His forethought was such that he often jokingly spoke of himself as 'a cautious Scotchman'; and I can bear testimony to his great and continued attachment to his friends. With burning zeal and untiring devotion he laboured on in his Master's work, and only his friends, who were much with him, knew how earnestly he prayed for those, who by their unholy lives, caused God's name to be blasphemed amongst the heathen; and how his heart longed to see the light of truth and liberty adorn the beautiful valley of Kashmir,–

'Where every prospect pleases,

And only man is vile.'

With thought and tenderness for others he spared not himself. When weak and wearied, and others saw how necessary a little rest and change were, to all the solicitations of his friends to leave Srinagar for only a short time, he replied, that nothing should induce him to leave the place whilst his poor people were suffering from cholera. And as he loved and laboured for the people, so they learned to trust and to love him in return. Some were punished and others threatened for coming to him, but come they would and did, even from great distances. One man, whose blindness had been removed, actually fell at his feet to worship him, saying, he had given him sight, and he would be his slave for ever; and others spoke of him as an avatar (incarnation of God) come to pity and heal them in their misery. Everything that was done was undertaken in a spirit of prayer. Every morning before the gospel was preached, or any medicines distributed, the Christians were assembled to entreat God to give His blessing, and after the address had been given by the catechist to the assembled sick, a prayer was offered again, with all who would join of the multitude."