Scotchwoman's power of looking at both sides of a
bawbee before she spent it, but she was also extraordinarily generous in
a very simple and unostentatious way, and her hospitality was boundless.

Miss Macnaughtan was almost hypersensitive to criticism. Her intense
desire to do right and to serve her fellow-beings animated her whole
life, and it seemed to her rather hard to be found fault with. Indeed,
she had not many faults, and the defects of her character were mostly
temperamental.

As a girl she was unpunctual, and subject to fits of indecision when it
seemed impossible for her to make up her mind one way or the other. The
inconvenience caused by her frequent changes of times and plans was
probably not realised by her. Later in life, when she lived so much
alone, she did not always see that difficulties which appeared nothing
to her might be almost insuperable to other people, and that in houses
where there are several members of a family to be considered, no
individual can be quite as free to carry out his own plans as a person
who is independent of family ties. But when one remembered how
splendidly she always responded to any claim on her own kindness one
forgave her for being a little exacting.

Perhaps Miss Macnaughtan's greatest handicap in life was her immense
capacity for suffering--suffering poignantly, unbearably, not only for
her own sorrows but for the sorrows of others. Only those who appealed
to her in trouble knew the depth of her sympathy, and how absolutely she
shared the burden of the grief. But perhaps they did not always know how
she agonised over their misfortunes, and at what price her sympathy was
given.

[Page Heading: RELIGIOUS VIEWS]

My aunt was a passionately religious woman. Her faith was the
inspiration of her whole life, and it is safe to say that from the
smallest to the greatest things there was never a struggle between
conscience and inclination in which conscience was not victorious. As
she grew older, I fancy that she became a less orthodox member of the
Church of England, to which she belonged, but her love for Christ and
for His people never wavered.

As each Sunday came round during her last illness, when she could not go
to church, she used to say to a very dear sister, "Now, J., we must have
our little service." Then the bedroom door was left ajar, and her sister
would go down to the drawing-room and play the simple hymns they had
sung together in childhood. And on th