first. This was, perhaps, one reason why she had been so constantly in
my thoughts. When the news came that she had left us, I was at first
greatly shocked and grieved--for I felt that I had lost no ordinary
friend--but when I considered how complete her life had been in all that
makes life noble and beautiful, and how meet it was that, having borne
the burden and heat of the day, she should now rest from her labors, it
seemed selfish to give way to sorrow and not rather to rejoice that she
had gone to be with Christ.

Scores of such grateful testimonies as this might be given. To all
who knew and loved her well, Mrs. Prentiss was "an inspiration." They
delighted to talk about her to each other and even to strangers. They
repeated her bright and pithy sayings. They associated her with favorite
characters in the books they read. The very thought of her wrought upon
them with gracious and cheering influence. An extract from a letter of
one of her old and dearest friends, written to her husband after her
death, will illustrate this:

On the very morning of her departure I had been conversing with my
physician about her. He spoke in admiration of her published works, and
I tried to give him a description of her personal characteristics. The
night before, in my hours of sleeplessness, I recounted the names
of friends who I thought had been most instrumental in moulding my
character, and Mrs. Prentiss led the list. How little did I dream that
already her feet had safely touched "the shining shore"! In all the
three and thirty years of our acquaintance I loved her DEARLY and
reverenced her most deeply; but between us there was such a gulf that I
always felt unworthy to touch even the hem of her garment. Whenever I
did touch it, strength and comfort were imparted to me. How much I was
indebted to her most tender sympathy and her prayers in my own great
sorrow, only another world will reveal. Is it not a little remarkable
that her last letter to me, written only a few weeks before her death,
closed with a benediction? I could go on talking about her without end;
for I have often said that there was more of her, and to her, and in
her, than belonged to any five women I ever knew. How exceedingly lovely
she was in her own home! I remember you once said to me, "The greatest
charm of my wife is, after all, her perfect naturalness." All who knew
her, must have recognised the same winning characteristic. She was
always fresh and alwa