How precious are the memories of those last sacred weeks to all those whose privilege it was to share them! I can never be thankful enough that I was able to be with her from the first of March until her death, with the exception of four weeks, when she seemed to be so much better. With the aid of her faithful colored servant, who rendered most affectionate service by night and by day, I had the great comfort of ministering to her throughout her last illness. Towards its close three dear friends shared with me, in turn, these offices of love. Bringing their cheerful smiles into the sick-chamber, and ever welcomed there with smiles, the intercourse seemed like that of those only a "little lower than the angels." For the last ten days of her life we had the aid of a most excellent and tender nurse, whose experience and untiring care made her a comfort to us all. Her kind physician and friend visited her twice each day, and my mother never failed to be cheered by his coming.
But while her bodily presence faded away from us, becoming daily more shadowy and spirit-like, her soul, as it drew nearer the world of love, seemed more than ever to overflow with love for others. The kind thoughtfulness which she had always shown to all who were sick or suffering, was returned fourfold into her own bosom. Almost hourly came from beloved friends messages and tokens of affection; the choicest flowers, the most delicious fruits, every thing that could delight the eye or tempt the palate. She was scarcely able to taste any of the many delicacies bestowed upon her, and it was her chief joy in those days of weakness to arrange for their distribution among such of her friends as were invalids.
"What is there to-day for me to send?" she would ask almost every morning—and then would often cause herself to be