power to enjoy them, and continually in heart to return Him thanks for His unutterable loving kindness to my tenderly-beloved little one, who had so sweet and easy a life and so tranquil a death. . . . My much-loved husband and I have drunk this cup together in close sympathy and unity of feeling. It has at times been very bitter to us both; but as an outward alleviation, we have, I believe, been in measure each other’s joy and helpers. The sweet children have also tenderly sympathised; brothers, sisters, servants, and friends, have been very near and dear in showing their kindness not only to the darling child, but to me, and to us all. . . . We find, outwardly and inwardly, ‘the Lord did provide.’ ”
The little lost Betsey, who “just came to show how sweet a flower for Paradise could bloom,” was thenceforth a sacred memory; for from that day they had a connecting link between their household and the skies. Very frequently, even in the midst of her multifarious engagements, her thoughts wandered off to the little grave in Barking burying-ground, where rested the remains of the dear child, and, perchance, a tenderer tone crept into her voice as she dealt with the outcast children of prisons and reformatories. Soon after this event the elder boys and girls went to school among their relatives, and only the youngest were left at Plashet House with her. As a new baby came within six months after little Betsey's death, the motherly hands were still full. She found, however, time to write letters of wise and mother-like counsels.
“My much-loved girls:—Your letters received last evening gave us much pleasure. I anxiously hope that you will now do your utmost in whatever respects your education, not only on your own account, but
