man were a woeful tragedy.
He was the best baker in the place, gave full weight, paid for his flour
on the day, and was in all respects a model of fair dealing. But his
trade declined. Competition reduced his profits and limited his sales.
When the great split occurred in Scotland between the old and the free
church, he stuck to the old, merely saying that the church of his
forefathers was good enough for him. But his neighbors and customers
were zealous for the free church; and one day, when the preacher aimed a
sermon at him for taking his walks on Sunday, he was offended, and
rarely went again. And so, for various reasons, his business declined;
some losses befell him; and he injured his constitution by exposure and
exhausting labors in the study of geology.

There were rich and powerful families near by who knew his worth, or
would have known it if they had themselves been worthy. They looked on
and saw the noblest heart in Scotland break in this unequal strife. They
should have set him free from his bake-shop as soon as he had given
proof of the stuff he was made of. He was poet, artist, philosopher,
hero, and they let him die in his bakehouse in misery. After his death
they performed over his body the shameful mockery of a pompous funeral,
and erected in his memory a paltry monument, which will commemorate
their shame as long as it lasts. His name has been rescued from oblivion
by the industry and tact of Samuel Smiles, who, in writing his life, has
revealed to us a rarer and higher kind of man than Robert Burns.

JOHN DUNCAN,

WEAVER AND BOTANIST.

Many young men ask nowadays what is the secret of "success." It were
better to inquire also how to do without success, since that is the
destiny of most of us, even in the most prosperous communities.

Could there be imagined a more complete "failure" than this John Duncan,
a Scottish weaver, always very poor, at last a pauper, short-sighted,
bent, shy, unlettered, illegitimate, dishonored in his home, not
unfrequently stoned by the boys of the roadside, and in every
particular, according to the outward view, a wretched fag-end of human
nature!

Yet, redeemed and dignified by the love of knowledge, he passed, upon
the whole, a joyous and even a triumphant life. He had a pursuit which
absorbed his nobler faculties, and lifted him far above the mishaps and
inconveniences of his lowly lot. The queen of his country took an
interest in his pursuits, and cont