Letter To Mrs. Ogilvie
(from the Memoir, by his sons)
Guthrie and his younger brother were joined in their lodgings by a third
student from Brechin, who was to Mr. Guthrie even as a brother. This was James
Martin, minister first of the rural parish of Glenisla, in Forfarshire, and
afterwards (as successor to Dr. Andrew Thomson) of St. George's Church,
Edinburgh. He is mentioned incidentally in the Autobiography; but, knowing how
strong was the attachment between them, we name him here as one who exercised a
salutary influence on the early life of Mr. Guthrie, to whom he was senior by
three years. The families to which they respectively belonged were very
intimate, while the destination of both these young men being the ministry
added a hallowed bond to that of natural affection. - Martin died in his early
prime at Leghorn, whither be had gone in search of health, in 1834; and the
following letter, written to his only sister by Dr. Guthrie, when visiting
Italy thirty-one years thereafter, forms a touching testimony to the depth and
permanence of this early friendship
Leghorn, 29th March, 1865
My Dear Mrs. Ogivie, - I had this day the melancholy pleasure of visiting the
beautiful spot where your brother, my oldest and beloved friend, sleeps in
Jesus, waiting a glorious resurrection. What sacred and tender memories did it
revive! Our boyhood; our college days; my pleasant and happy visits to
Glenisla; his warm affection for me, and mine to him; your father, and mother,
and John; and - what I have often thought of - what two brothers we had been,
had it pleasod God that he had been spared to be a brother minister with me in
Edinburgh. As I told them here, when they wondered at my great anxiety to visit
Mr. Martin's tomb, I don't remember the time when I did not know and love him.
It is a grand and blessed prospect, to look forward to a meeting which knows no
parting. ‘He is not dead, but sleepeth. "
I saw violets, and many beautiful and to us strange flowers, growing in the
cemetery. But I thought (although they will be, what his memory will never be,
withered before this reaches you) you would be best pleased with these two or
three daisies that David and I plucked from his very grave. Besides that, they
are flowers not common in Italy, but peculiarly belonging to the dens and braes
where we played many a happy day. I plucked also a branch from the cypress that
flings its shadow on his tomb.
Yours very affectionately -
THOMAS GUTHRIE