The village of Smatterton was unusually full. Many came from a distance, some to visit their friends, some for a little extraordinary amusement for the Sunday, and some probably with a desire to pay a tribute of respect to the late rector; for the name of Dr Greendale was celebrated beyond the narrow limits of his own parish. There were visitors at almost every house in the village, and the little public-houses, which on Sunday were ordinarily closed, now were indulged with the privilege of being open, Indeed the indulgence was absolutely necessary. The funeral procession was very long, and many of the mourners were mourners indeed. They had a great regard for the late doctor, not for any very profuse generosity which he had exhibited, for that was not in his power; not for any unbounded hospitality, for in that respect he was limited in his circumstances, and confined as to his time; not because he was a very eloquent and entertaining preacher, for his sermons were plainness itself; not because he was a sturdy politician, either demagogue or sycophant, for it was absolutely impossible for any one to conjecture with plausibility to which party he belonged; not because he indulged and flattered the vices of either the great or the little, for he was not unsparing in his rebukes of wickedness whenever he met with it; but they loved and respected him for the steadiness and respectability of his character, for the integrity, purity, simplicity, and sincerity of his life. Therefore they mourned at his grave, and wept tears of real sorrow at the loss of him. The very persons who paid tithes were sorry that he was departed from them, for they did not think it likely that any other could be put in his place to whom they would more cheerfully make such payments. The funeral service was impressively read by Mr Darnley, and in the afternoon the same gentleman took the duty at the church, in order to deliver a funeral sermon for his late friend and neighbour.