462 JOHN DUNCAN, WEAVER AND BOTANIST. 



responsive to the harmonies of Nature, which he had 

 listened to so long, and the other almost ready to burst 

 into the melody of Heaven." 



The evening before he died, John Taylor raised him 

 gently into a sitting posture, and propped him up with 

 pillows, which seemed to relieve him. In reply to a 

 question if he did not feel easier, he gratefully murmured, 

 " Oo, ay ! " and lay back in full repose. These liquid vowels 

 were the last syllables he ever uttered. His mouth never 

 rightly closed again after speaking them, and he died with 

 his lips in the same attitude of grateful consent with his 

 lot, in which his spirit had lived so long and so truly, 

 humble and hard as it had been, and from which, by a wise 

 transmutation of soul, he had extracted such deep joys. 



He continued to breathe heavily to the last, his chest 

 doubly heaving with each involuntary respiration. When 

 softly asked how he felt, he seemed to make an attempt to 

 reply, but the features were fixed and no sound issued. 

 John Taylor remained faithfully with his friend and teacher 

 till the end. After four o'clock on the morning of Tuesday, 

 the pth of August, no pulsation could be felt, beyond an 

 occasional flutter which told that the heart yet beat. Life 

 was slowly ebbing ebbing out into the great ocean of 

 eternity. 



He survived, however, till past noon. A kindly neigh- 

 bour who had come to inquire for him was then sitting by 

 his bed, while John Taylor watched in silence for the latest 

 lingering breath. A sudden change in the countenance 

 arrested their attention, as she rose to go. One long but 

 silent respiration followed, like a higher ripple in a quiet 

 sea, and then another longer and harder, and all was over : 



