In 1861 Dr. Duff had the grief of losing his spiritual son, the Rev. Gopinath Nundi, whose sufferings and heroism in the Mutiny have already been related. The touching words in which the Missionary wrote of the departed convert, show how dear his native pupil was to his heart. "Little did I dream when parting with him then that it was the last time I was to gaze on that mild but earnest countenance. Little did I dream when we knelt down together, hand in hand, in my study, to commend each other to the Father of spirits, it was the last time we should meet till we hail each other, before the throne on high, as redeemed by the blood of the Lamb. But so it has proved. I mourn over him as I would over an only son, till at times my eyes are sore with weeping. It is not the sorrow of repining at the dispensation of a gracious God and loving Father, Oh! no! but the outburst and overflow of affectionate grief for one whom I loved as my own soul. But he has gone to his rest, and to his glorious reward!" Two years more of earnest, successful labour, and Dr. Duff's own working days in India were over. In the month of July, 1863, dysentery again laid him low. To save the Missionary's life, the doctors hurried him off on a sea-voyage to China. This remedy was insufficient, and the devoted Duff himself saw that after nearly a third of a century of almost perpetual work, it was the Master's will that His servant should retire at last. Sore must have been the struggle in his mind, but Duff was trained to believe that in all things God knows best. Bitter was the trial of parting to the many natives of India who honoured and loved him, bitter to the Missionary himself. The following is part of his reply to an address from a Society representing all educated non-Christian Bengal. It expresses the feelings with which this apostle of India quitted her shores for ever. He comforted himself with the hope of that day when the Gospel shall spread through the length and breadth of the earth.