466 JOHN DUNCAN, WEAVER AND BOTANIST. 



accompanied me on my return down the valley, not far 

 from the cottage, we passed through a field of newly mown 

 hay, which shed its delicate odour on the evening breeze ; 

 and it seemed to us to carry a happy augury of the future 

 greater influence John Duncan might yet wield, which, 

 faint though pleasant as it had been in life, would, like 

 the hay and the Scented Woodruff, become stronger and 

 sweeter after death. 



The funeral took place on Monday the I5th of August. 

 The day was calm and agreeable. The enclosing hills 

 seemed to shut out the cottage more seclusively from the 

 world, and the quiet that pervaded the scene breathed 



" Austere 

 But happy feelings of the dead." 



The gathering was large and representative, of neighbours 

 and friends, several from a distance, come to do the last 

 honours to departed worth. The chastened assembly stood 

 round the door beside the old wild-flower garden, that 

 spake of its dead master. Mr. Gillan read the prayer of 

 Moses, the man of God, with its sad burden of the " labour 

 and sorrow " of life, written amidst the dim light of the 

 ancient Jewish faith ; followed by St. Paul's powerful argu- 

 ment regarding the " mystery " of immortality, appropri- 

 ately based on the analogies of plant life, and his pean of 

 victory over death and the grave, which closes with the philo- 

 sophical assurance that " our labour is not in vain in the 

 Lord" on which the experience of John Duncan was a 

 suggestive commentary. The minister of the church John 

 had so long attended offered a trustful and intelligent 

 prayer, touching on the lessons of the life now closed. 

 Friendly hands then bore the coffin to the hearse by the 



