be ready for breakfast at the usual hour.  As the process of dressing went on, she playfully enlivened it thus:  ’Well, here I am a baby again; have to be dressed and fed, perhaps lugged round in arms or trundled in a wheel-chair, taught to walk on one foot, and sew and darn stockings with my left hand.  Plenty of new lessons to learn that will keep me busy.  See what a chance I have to learn patience!  The dear Father knew just what I needed,’ etc.

“Soon after breakfast she gave herself a lesson in writing with her left hand, stopping often, as she slowly scrawled on, to laugh at her ‘quail tracks.’  After three months of tireless persistence, she partially recovered the use of her paralyzed muscles, so that she could write, sew, knit, wipe dishes, and sweep, and do ’very shabbily,’ as she insisted, almost everything that she had done before.

“During the six years that remained of her life here, she had what seemed to be two other slight shocks of paralysis,—­one about three years after the first, and the other only three weeks before her death.  This last was manifest in the sudden sinking of her bodily powers, preeminently those of speech.  During all those years she looked upon herself as ‘a soldier hourly awaiting orders,’ often saying with her good-night kiss, ’May be this will be the last here,’ or, ‘Perhaps I shall send back my next from the other shore;’ or, ‘The dear Father may call me from you before morning;’ or, ’Perhaps when I wake, it may be in a morning that has no night; then I can help you more than I can now.’

“Many letters received asked for her latest views and feelings about death and the life beyond,—­as one expressed it, when she was entering the dark valley.’  The ‘valley’ she saw, but no darkness, neither night nor shadow; all was light and peace.  On the future life she had pondered much, but ever with a trust absolute and an abounding cheer.  Fear, doubt, anxiety, suspense, she knew nothing of; none of them had power to mar her peace or jostle her conviction.  While she could speak, she expressed the utmost gratitude that the dear Father was loosening the cords of life so gently that she had no pain.

“When her speech failed, after a sinking in which she seemed dying, she strove to let us know that she knew it by trying to speak the word ‘death.’  Divining her thought, I said, ‘Is it death?’ Then in a kind of convulsive outburst came, ‘Death, death!’ Thinking that she was right, that it was indeed to her death begun, of what could die, thus dating her life immortal, I said, ’No, oh no! not death, but life immortal.’  She instantly caught my meaning, and cried out, ‘Life eternal!  E—­ter—­nal life.’  She soon sank into a gentle sleep for hours.  When she awoke, what seemed that fatal sinking had passed.