There was no need of hired mourners at her funeral.  The depth of real grief was unprecedented.  The sad procession was composed of many hundreds of mourners, and of nearly seven hundred children from her schools.  The whole district was desolate and bereaved.  The man was only speaking what many another was thinking when he said, “This is the greatest calamity that ever befell this district; of a’ the dukes that reigned here there was never one like her; there’s none in this neighbourhood, high or low, but was under some obligation to her, for she made it her study to benefit her fellow-men; and what crowds o’ puir craturs she helped every day.  And then for the spiritual, Huntly is Huntly still, in a great degree, but the gude that’s been done in it is a’ through her.”

All that was mortal of this mother in Israel was laid to rest in Elgin Cathedral.  That noble fane contained the remains of no one more loved than she.  “I can’t understand how people should love me,” she used to say.  Others could understand it.  And now that they could love her in person no longer, they love her memory.

S.F.  HARRIS, M.A., B.C.L.