I not only repeated them to myself the whole of the day, but even sung them aloud so often that my dear M.Y. said to me, “Whatever can be the meaning that thou so often repeats these lines?” I replied, “I do not know that I have repeated them for the last twenty years, but to-day they are continually with me.”  This can have been nothing but the spirit of sympathy with the soul of my dear departing brother, for the awful impression of sorrow and solemnity in my mind on that day will never be forgotten; I mourned with the bereaved family without knowing it.  My M.Y. had opened her portfolio to begin a letter to our sister Rachel, and I wrote the verse on a piece of loose paper, and she slipped it into her papers, and said to herself, Surely these lines are not prophetic of something that is going to happen?  Last evening she banded me out of her portfolio the piece of paper containing the lines.

At Berne they received also the tidings that “the excellent” M.A.  Calame was no more; the Christian mother of 250 orphan children was taken from the scene of her labors and the conflicts of time to the heavenly rest in her Saviour.  The following appear to be among the last words which she wrote; they were no doubt addressed to her faithful companion Zimmerlin:—­

In my numerous shortcomings I have enough constantly to humble me, and without being surprised at it, since evil is my heritage; but my help is in the Lord, who delights in mercy.  I have hope also for all my brethren whom I love, whatever name they hear.  There are twelve gates by which to enter into the Holy City, and if they have passed through the great gate, which is Christ, I am sure that those who enter from the east, as well as those who have been brought in by the west, will be there; but those who enter with me are better known to me than the rest whom I shall meet in that celestial Jerusalem, whither my sighs daily carry me, yet in submission to the heavenly decrees, desiring only that the will of God our Saviour be done.

You think my task is light?  Ah, no! the love which the Lord has given me spends itself on so many hearts closed to their true interests; I see the hand of the enemy in their souls; I am so often deceived in my hopes, that my work is watered by my tears.  From time to time, however, the Lord gives me hope; a soul awakes from sleep, and is kindled into light by the torch of the gospel.

And now, dear sister, have no longer any esteem or consideration for me; only let the love of Christ live in thy heart for me:  the desires of my heart carry you with it to the feet of Him who is Love.

When they returned home, John and Martha Yeardley printed a short memoir of this extraordinary woman, whose name, though comparatively little known upon earth, is doubtless enshrined in the hearts of many who still survive, and shall one day shine with a lustre which the most brilliant of her sex, whose ambition it is to adorn the court, the concert or the drawing-room, will desire in vain to wear.