t the dead; but
he knew it not, because he was full of light. For this man was one who,
all his life, had striven to be better.

Meantime, the clergyman having arrived, the usual religious ceremonial
of a Scotch funeral--the reading of the Word and prayer--was going on
below. This was all that gave the burial any sacred solemnity; for at
the grave the Scotch terror of Popery forbids any observance of a
religious character. The voice of the reader was heard in the chamber
of death.

"The minister's come, Thamas."

"Come or gang," said Thomas, "it's muckle the same. The word itsel' oot
o' his mou' fa's as deid as chaff upo' clay. Honest Jeames there'll
rise ance mair; but never a word that man says, wi' the croon o' 's
heid i' the how o' 's neck, 'll rise to beir witness o' his
ministrations."

"Hoot, Thamas! It's no for the likes o' me to flee i' your face--but
jist say a fair word for the livin' ower the deid, ye ken."

"Na, na. It's fair words maks foul wark; and the wrath o' the Almichty
maun purge this toon or a' be dune. There's a heap o' graceless gaeins
on in't; and that puir feckless body, the minister, never gies a pu' at
the bridle o' salvation, to haud them aff o' the scaur (cliff) o'
hell."

The stone-mason generally spoke of the Almighty as if he were in a
state of restrained indignation at the wrongs he endured from his
children. If Thomas was right in this, then certainly he himself was
one of his offspring. If he was wrong, then there was much well worth
his unlearning.

The prayer was soon over, and the company again seated themselves,
waiting till the coffin should be placed in the hearse, which now stood
at the door.

"We'll jist draw the cork o' anither boatle," whispered a sharp-faced
man to his neighbour.

And rising, he opened two bottles, and filled the glasses the second
time with wine, red and white, which he handed to the minister first.

"Tak' a drappy mair, sir," he whispered in a coaxing, old-wivish tone;
"it's a lang road to the kirkyard."

But the minister declining, most of the others followed his example.
One after another they withdrew to the door, where the hearse was now
laden with the harvest of the grave.

Falling in behind the body, they moved in an irregular procession from
the yard. Outside, they were joined by several more in gigs and on
horseback; and thus they crept, a curious train, away towards the
resting-place of the dead.

It were a dreary rest, indeed,