rn to Dublin, so as to be near her
physician. She could only leave her bed to be laid upon a couch. The
sufferings were great, but there was no complaint. She would never allow
those around her to speak of her state as one calling for pity. She
seemed to live partly on earth, partly in heaven. "No poetry could
express, nor imagination conceive, the visions of blessedness that
flitted across her fancy, and made her waking hours more delightful than
those even that were given to temporary repose." She would ask to be
left perfectly alone, in stillness and darkness, to commune with her own
heart and reflect on the mercies of her Saviour. Her trust in the
atonement was entire, and often did she speak of the comfort she derived
from dwelling upon that central fact. She assured a friend that the
tenderness and affectionateness of the Redeemer's character, which they
had often contemplated together, was now a source not merely of
reliance, but of positive happiness to her--"_the sweetness of
her couch_."

As is often the case under such circumstances, her thoughts were busy
with the haunts of her childhood, the old home and the old walks. Her
memory appeared unweakened. Its powers, always so great, seemed to be
greater than ever. She would lie hour after hour, repeating to herself
chapters of the Bible and pages of Milton and Wordsworth. When delirium
came upon her, it was observed how entirely the beautiful still retained
its predominance over her mind. The one material thing that gave her
pleasure was to be surrounded with "flowers, fresh flowers."

Often did she thank God for the talents He had entrusted to her, and
declared how much more ardently than ever her powers would have been
consecrated to His service had life been prolonged. On March 15th she
received the Holy Communion for the last time, one of her sons being a
partaker of that feast for the first time. But the end was not to come
at once. There was another flicker of life. The days that remained were
spent in pious preparation, one of her favourite occupations being the
listening to the reading of some of her most valued books. The _Lives of
Sacred Poets_ and the _Lives of Eminent Christians_, in both of which
her life was soon to be worthy of a place, were especially enjoyed. In
the latter book she earnestly recommended the perusal of the account of
the death of Madame de Mornay, as showing in bright yet not exaggerated
colours "how a Christian can die."

On