is so full of irons," she wrote, "that
I do not know which one to take out." Nor was her heart less busy than
her hands and brain. Twice in January, once in February, and again in
April, death invaded the circle of her friends; and when her friends
were in trouble she was always in trouble, too. [1] These deaths led to
earnest talk with her husband on the mystery of earthly existence, and
on the power of faith in Christ to sustain the soul in facing its great
trials. "I am filled with ever fresh wonder at this amazing power," she
said. Such subjects always interested her deeply; never more so than at
this time, when, although she knew it not, her feet were drawing so near
to the pearly gates.

The keynote of her being throughout this last winter was one of unwonted
seriousness. A certain startling intensity of thought and feeling showed
itself every now and then. It was painfully evident that she was under
a severe strain, both physical and mental. Again and again, as spring
advanced, the anxiety of her husband was aroused to the highest pitch by
what seemed to him indications that the unresting, ever-active spirit
was fast wearing away the frail body. At times, too, there was a
light in her eye and in her face an "unearthly, absolutely angelic
expression"--to use her own words about her little Bessie, six and
twenty years before--that filled him with a strange wonder, and which,
after her departure, he often recalled as prophetic of the coming event
and the glory that should follow.

But while to his ear an undertone of unusual seriousness, deepening
ever and anon into a strain of the sweetest tenderness and pathos, ran
through her life during all these early months of 1878, there was little
change in its outward aspect. She was often gay and full as ever of
bright, playful fancies. Never busier, so was she never more eager to
be of service to her friends--and never was she more loving to her
children, or more thoughtful of their happiness. She proposed for their
gratification and advantage to write four new books, one for each
of them, provided only they and their father would furnish her with
subjects. The plan seemed to please her greatly, and, had she been
spared, would probably have been carried into effect--for it was
just the sort of stimulus she needed to set her mind in action. Once
furnished with a subject, her pen, as has been said before, always moved
with the utmost ease and rapidity. But while she wrote