who was kneeling by her bedside in tears, had the comfort of often holding her the water with which to moisten her lips.  As he had laid her hand, on which the white scar of the wound was most distinctly visible, on the counterpane, he took hold of that hand, which was already cold, and as he inwardly wished for some mark of farewell from her, she slightly pressed his.  Her face was calm and serene, bearing an expression of heavenly gravity, and which can only be compared to that of a valiant wrestler, who after making unheard of efforts to gain the victory, sinks back and dies in the very act of seizing the prize.  The priest again read through the prayers for persons in their last agony, and she then felt an inward inspiration to pray for a pious young friend whose feast day it was.  Eight o’clock struck; she breathed more freely for the space of a few minutes, and then cried three times with a deep groan:  ’O Lord, assist me:  Lord, Lord, come!’ The priest rang his bell, and said, ‘She is dying.’  Several relations and friends who were in the next room came in and knelt down to pray.  She was then holding in her hand a lighted taper, which the priest was supporting.  She breathed forth several slight sighs, and then her pure soul escaped her chaste lips, and hastened, clothed in the nuptial garment, to appear in heavenly hope before the Divine Bridegroom, and be united for ever to that blessed company of virgins who follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth.  Her lifeless body sank gently back on the pillows at halfpast eight o’clock p.m., on the 9th February 1824.

A person who had taken great interest in her during life wrote as follows:  ’After her death, I drew near to her bed.  She was supported by pillows, and lying on her left side.  Some crutches, which had been prepared for her by her friends on one occasion when she had been able to take a few turns in the room, were hanging over her head, crossed, in a corner.  Near them hung a little oil painting representing the death of the Blessed Virgin, which had been given her by the Princess of Salm.  The expression of her countenance was perfectly sublime, and bore the traces of the spirit of self-sacrifice, the patience and resignation of her whole life; she looked as though she had died for the love of Jesus, in the very act of performing some work of charity for others.  Her right hand was resting on the counterpane—­that hand on which God had bestowed the unparalleled favour of being able at once to recognise by the touch anything that was holy, or that had been consecrated by the Church—­a favour which perhaps no one had ever before enjoyed to so great an extent—­ a favour by which the interests of religion might be inconceivably promoted, provided it was made use of with discretion, and which surely had not been bestowed upon a poor ignorant peasant girl merely for her own personal gratification.  For the last time I took in mine the hand marked with a sign so worthy of our utmost veneration, the hand