she desires that one of her gold
chains may be given to her god-daughter Louisa,
and a lock of her hair be set for you. You can
need no assurance, my dearest Fanny, that every
request of your beloved aunt will be sacred with
me. Be so good as to say whether you prefer a
brooch or ring. God bless you, my dearest Fanny.

Believe me, most affectionately yours,
CASS. ELIZTH. AUSTEN.

So ends the story of Jane Austen's life. We can only hope that we have
succeeded in conveying to the reader even a small part of the feeling
which we ourselves entertain of the charm of her personality--a charm
almost as remarkable in its way as the brightness of her genius. In one
respect it is easy to write about her--there is nothing to conceal.
Some readers may perhaps add 'There is little to tell'; and it is true
that, though the want of incident in her life has often been
exaggerated, her occupations were largely those of helpfulness and
sympathy towards others whose lot was more variable than hers, and the
development of her own powers to be the delight of generations of
readers.

But this position gave her quite sufficient opportunity of showing her
character--and it is a character which it is a continual pleasure to
contemplate. Her perfect balance and good sense did not diminish her
liveliness. Her intellectual qualities did not prevent the enjoyment of
a dance, or attention to the most domestic duties. Her consciousness of
genius left room for a belief that Cassandra was wiser and better than
herself. Her keen and humorous observation of the frailties of mankind
was compatible with indulgence towards the faults of her neighbours. Her
growing fame did not make her the less accessible and delightful to her
nieces, who could consult their aunt and obtain a willing listener in
any difficulty whatever, from a doubtful love affair to the working of a
sampler. Indeed, she is a standing witness to the truth that
eccentricity and self-consciousness are not essential parts of genius.

When her body had been laid in Winchester Cathedral, the small band of
mourners went back in sadness to their different homes. They were very
fond and very proud of her; and each, we are told, loved afterwards to
fancy a resemblance in some niece or daughter of their own to the dear
sister Jane, whose perfect equal they yet never expected to se