The pupils greatly honor and love the undemonstrative woman, who, they well know, would make any sacrifices for their well-being.  Each week the informal gatherings at her rooms, where various useful topics are discussed, are eagerly looked forward to.  Chief of all, Miss Mitchell’s own bright and sensible talk is enjoyed.  Her “dome parties,” held yearly in June, under the great dome of the observatory, with pupils coming back from all over the country, original poems read and songs sung, are among the joys of college life.

All these years the astronomer’s fame has steadily increased.  In 1868, in the great meteoric shower, she and her pupils recorded the paths of four thousand meteors, and gave valuable data of their height above the earth.  In the summer of 1869 she joined the astronomers who went to Burlington, Iowa, to observe the total eclipse of the sun, Aug. 7.  Her observations on the transit of Venus were also valuable.  She has written much on the Satellites of Saturn, and has prepared a work on the Satellites of Jupiter.

In 1873 she again visited Europe, spending some time with the family of the Russian astronomer, Professor Struve, at the Imperial Observatory at Pultowa.

She is an honor to her sex, a striking example of what a quiet country girl can accomplish without money or fortuitous circumstances.

* * * * *

She resigned her position at Vassar in 1888.  Miss Mitchell died on the morning of June 28, 1889, at Lynn, Mass., at the age of seventy-one, and was buried at Nantucket on Sunday afternoon, June 30.

LOUISA M. ALCOTT.

[Illustration:  LOUISA M. ALCOTT.]

A dozen of us sat about the dinner-table at the Hotel Bellevue, Boston.  One was the gifted wife of a gifted clergyman; one had written two or three novels; one was a journalist; one was on the eve of a long journey abroad; and one, whom we were all glad to honor, was the brilliant author of Little Women.  She had a womanly face, bright, gray eyes, that looked full of merriment, and would not see the hard side of life, and an air of common sense that made all defer to her judgment.  She told witty stories of the many who wrote her for advice or favors, and good-naturedly gave bits of her own personal experience.  Nearly twenty years before, I had seen her, just after her Hospital Sketches were published, over which I, and thousands of others, had shed tears.  Though but thirty years old then, Miss Alcott looked frail and tired.  That was the day of her struggle with life.  Now, at fifty, she looked happy and comfortable.  The desire of her heart had been realized,—­to do good to tens of thousands, and earn enough money to care for those whom she loved.