ing had been obtained, and many busy days
were occupied in the delightful task of furnishing it. At the close of a
day spent in this manner, the friend who had been Miss Ross's companion
proposed that the remaining purchases should be deferred to another
time, urging, in addition to her extreme fatigue, that many of the
stores were closed. "Come to South Street with me," she replied. "They
keep open there until twelve o'clock, and we may find exactly what we
want." The long walk was taken, and when the desired articles were
secured she yielded to her friend's entreaties, and at a late hour
sought her home. As she pursued her solitary way came there no
foreshadowing of what was to be? no whisper of the hastening summons? no
token of the quick release? Wearily were the steps ascended, which
echoed for the last time the familiar tread. Slowly the door closed
through which she should pass on angelic mission nevermore. Was there no
warning?

"I am tired," she said, "and so cold that I feel as if I never could be
warm again." It was an unusual complaint for her to whom fatigue had
seemed almost unknown before. But it was very natural that exhaustion
should follow a day of such excessive labor, and she would soon be
refreshed. So thought those who loved her, unconscious of the
threatening danger. The heavy chill retained its grasp, the resistless
torpor of paralysis crept slowly on, and then complete insensibility. In
this utter helplessness, which baffled every effort of human skill,
night wore away, and morning dawned. There was no change and days passed
before the veil was lifted.

She could not believe that her work was all done on earth and death
near, "but," she said, "God has willed it--His will be done." There was
no apparent mental struggle. Well she knew that she had done her
uttermost, and that God was capable of placing in the field other
laborers, and perhaps better ones than she; and she uttered no
meaningless words when, without a murmur, she resigned herself to His
will.

A few words of fond farewell, she calmly spoke to the weeping friends
about her. Then with fainter and fainter breathing, life fled so gently
that they knew not when the shadowy vale was passed. So, silently and
peacefully the Death-angel had visited her, and upon her features lay
the calm loveliness of perfect rest.

On the 22d of December, 1863, the friends, and sharers of her labors
were assembled at the dedication of the Soldiers' Hom