himself. That was in the true stoic spirit. But how extraordinary at such an hour to have his own verses read to him! Far better was the feeling of our Bishop Wallin, when at his deathbed they began to sing one of his own beautiful hymns, he interrupted them and said “No, no! not that now!” and took pleasure only in hearing read the Gospel of St. John.
But I was going to tell of my acquaintance.
Among my good friends here I reckon also a Quaker couple—but of the somewhat worldly class of Quakers—Mr. and Mrs. E. T., agreeable and wealthy people, who have shown me much kindness, and who have driven me about to places both in and out of the city. Mrs. T.'s paternal home, a strict Quaker-home, interests me especially from a young girl there who wrote to me some time since a charming little letter. I knew that she was very delicate from a spinal complaint, which had confined her to her bed for some years. When I was taken into her chamber I saw laid upon a bed in white garments arranged artistically in broad full folds, a beingnever had I seen anything so like an angel! That beautiful, pure countenance, was lighted by a pair of large eyes which beamed with really supernatural brightness. She made no movement to raise her head when I bent over her to speak, but laid her arms quietly around my neck. That fascinating countenance bore not a trace of the disease and nervous weakness of which she is the prey, and which she bears like a patient lamb; neither do they enfeeble her spiritual life. God has given wings to her spirit, and the physically-bound young girl has sent forth from her sick bed instructive teachings to the world from her observations of the wonderful mechanism of life in nature. Her little book for youth, “Life in the Insect World,” is to me a welcome gift, because it shows me a young girl who has made nice investigation into one of the natural sciences, which I have often endeavoured to excite young
