“When I think of Angelina, there comes to me the picture of the spotless dove in the tempest, as she battles with the storm, seeking for some place to rest her foot.  She reminds me of innocence personified in Spenser’s poem.  In her girlhood, alone, heart-led, she comforts the slave in his quarters, mentally struggling with the problems his position wakes her to.  Alone, not confused, but seeking something to lean on, she grasps the Church, which proves a broken reed.  No whit disheartened, she turns from one sect to another, trying each by the infallible touchstone of that clear, child-like conscience.  The two old, lonely Quakers rest her foot awhile.  But the eager soul must work, not rest in testimony.  Coming North at last, she makes her own religion one of sacrifice and toil.  Breaking away from, rising above, all forms, the dove floats at last in the blue sky where no clouds reach....  This is no place for tears.  Graciously, in loving kindness and tenderly, God broke the shackles and freed her soul.  It was not the dust which surrounded her that we loved.  It was not the form which encompassed her that we revere; but it was the soul.  We linger a very little while, her old comrades.  The hour comes, it is even now at the door, that God will open our eyes to see her as she is:  the white-souled child of twelve years old ministering to want and sorrow; the ripe life, full of great influences; the serene old age, example and inspiration whose light will not soon go out.  Farewell for a very little while.  God keep us fit to join thee in that broader service on which thou hast entered.”

  [9] A mistake.  James G. Birney was one of the most widely known and
  influential leaders in the abolition cause at the time Angelina came
  into it.

At the close of Mr. Phillips’ remarks a hymn was read and sung, followed by a fervent prayer from Mr. Morrison, when the services closed with the reading and singing of “Nearer, my God to Thee.”  Then, after the last look had been taken, the coffin-lid was softly closed over the placidly sleeping presence beneath, and the precious form was borne to Mount Hope, and tenderly lowered to its final resting-place.  There the sisters, inseparable in life, lie side by side next the “Evergreen Path,” in that “dreamless realm of silence.”

A friend, describing the funeral, says:—­

“The funeral services throughout wore no air of gloom.  That sombre crape shrouded no one with its dismal tokens.  The light of a glorious autumn day streamed in through uncurtained windows.  It was not a house of mourning,—­no sad word said, no look of sorrow worn.  The tears that freely fell were not of grief, but tears of yearning love, of sympathy, of solemn joy and gratitude to God for such a life in its rounded completeness, such an example and testimony, such fidelity to conscience, such recoil from all self-seeking, such unswerving devotion to duty, come what might of peril or loss, even unto death.”