The doctor arrived shortly afterwards, who found that he had broken a blood-vessel. The night was passed partly in peaceful sleep, and partly in converse with his children who were then present. His daughter says, "He was just full of his Saviour's love and mercy all through his life; he repeated many hymns and passages of Scripture." On Thursday morning he was visited by Mr. Morley and two other friends, with whom he conversed. He also had his Testament, but finding he could not read it, his daughters read to him. He repeated many hymns, among them the Scotch version of the hundred and third Psalm, but stopped and said, "There is nothing like the original," which was then read from the Bible. His mother's favourite hymn, "Hail, sovereign Light," was also by his special desire read to him. Another sleep--a wandering, perhaps unconscious, look at his children, a struggle, and then a quietness? and the pilgrimage was over, the spirit had fled to be present with the Lord whom he had loved so well and served so faithfully. "His end was peace." He died on the 10th of August, 1883, in his eighty-eighth year. The funeral took place a few days later at Norwood Cemetery, when, surrounded by such relatives as were in England, Sir Bartle Frere, Mr. Samuel Morley and several other Members of Parliament, deputations from the various Missionary and several Religious Societies, and by the Mayor of Bloemfontein, his remains were consigned to the tomb. Never had a truer hero been borne to the grave, nor one more thoroughly worthy of the name of MAN. [Illustration] CHAPTER XI. CONCLUSION. As soon as it was realised that Robert Moffat had actually gone, it was felt that a truly great man had departed from among us. A niche in the temple of earth's true nobility seemed empty. The prevailing feeling was given expression to by some of the leading journals, which in eulogistic articles commented upon the life, work, and character of him who had gone.