The morning he died I looked over his few affairs and balanced his accounts, which were kept in a small pass-book, his poor fees on one side and his slender expenses on the other to a halfpenny. “The expenditure may seem heavy the last few journeys, but my strength failed by the way, and I was unable to walk to my destination, but there may still be enough at the end of the week for what has to be done. “There will be £9 15s. 6d. when all is paid. “With the sale of my books it will suffice, for I have carefully enquired, to buy a grave and defray the cost of burial. It is not possible to be buried beside my mother, for our ground is full, so let me lie where the sun is shining on the Grange Cemetery.” Soon after his mind wandered, and I gathered he was in the vestry of Tilliegask Kirk. “Lord, be merciful to me and remember my infirmities... deliver Thy servant from the fear of man and all doubleness of heart... give me grace to declare Thy truth and to set Thee before me... bless my mother and hear her prayers....” After a little while he began to preach, but we could make nothing of the words till he suddenly stopped and raised himself in the bed. “Thou, Lord,” he cried, with great astonishment, “hearing me... Forgive... I am not worthy to declare Thy Gospel....” What was said by the Master none of us heard, but the astonishment passed into joy, and the light thereof still touched and made beautiful his face as the probationer fell on sleep. It was a spring day when we laid his body to rest, and any one who cares can find his grave because a weeping willow hangs over it, and this is the inscription on the stone: Hiram Clunas, Probationer. “It is a very small thing that I should be judged of man's judgment.” A GOVERNMENT OFFICIAL Never had I met any man so methodical in his habits, so neat in his dress, so accurate in speech, so precise in manner as my fellow-lodger. When he took his bath in the morning I knew it was half-past seven, and when he rang for hot water that it was a quarter to eight Until a quarter-past he moved about the room in his slow, careful dressing, and then everything was quiet next door till half-past eight, when the low murmur of the Lord's Prayer concluded his devotions. Two minutes later he went downstairs--if he met a servant one could hear him say “Good morning”--and read his newspaper--he seldom had letters--till nine, when he rang for breakfast. Twenty-past nine he went upstairs and changed his coat, and he spent five minutes in the lobby selecting a pair of gloves, brushing his hat, and making a last survey for a speck of dust One glove he put on opposite the hat-stand, and the second on the doorstep, and when he touched the pavement you might have set your watch by nine-thirty. Once he was in the lobby at five and twenty minutes to ten, distressed and flurried.