consumed her body, although she maintained her mind. Such a husband as he was a treasure, that sweeping the house with the utmost industry would not again restore. It was hidden, it was lost—until it shall be again found, set in a precious and eternal ore, to be worn upon the fair neck of a descending Church, bedecked and jewelled for her wedding with the Lamb.
Such was she at his death, and however needless this history may render it to inquire what she was during his life, it is now a pleasure to record the intrinsic worth of such a character. Was she a woman dressed in all the frippery of fashion? No! She was clean, but in the plainest attire. Was she an idle drab that brings nought but ruin and disgrace? No! Nor was she the medium between all these things. She was the hard-working burden-bearer to her industrious husband. She fetched with a free will and brought with the spirit of a willing mind the materials with which he was to build up the fabric of his immortal thoughts. She even laboured upon his works, those parts of them where powers of drawing and form were not necessary, which from her excellent idea of colouring was of no small use in the completion of his laborious designs. This she did to a much greater extent than is usually credited.
