rt absolutely holy; and was I likely to get that when my
earthly cup was so full? At any rate I am content. Now and then, as the
reality of this coming separation overwhelms me, I feel a spasm of pain
at my heart (I don't suppose we are expected to cease to be human beings
or to lose our sensibilities), but if my Lord and Master will go with
me, and keeps on making me more and more like Himself, I can be happy
anywhere and under any conditions, or be made content not to be happy.
All this is of little consequence in itself, but perhaps it may make me
more of a blessing to others, which, next to personal holiness, is the
only thing to be sought very earnestly. As to my relation to you, He who
brought you under my wing for a season has something better for you in
store. _That's His way._ And wherever I am, if it is His will and His
Spirit dictates the prayer, I shall pray for you, and that is the best
service one soul can render another.

About this time she and her husband had an almost miraculous escape from
instant death. They had been calling upon friends in East Dorset and
were returning home. Not far from that village is a very dangerous
railroad crossing; and, as the sight or sound of cars so affrighted Coco
as to render him uncontrollable, special pains had been taken not to
arrive at the spot while a train was due. But just as they reached it,
an "irregular" train, whose approach was masked behind high bushes, came
rushing along unannounced, and had they been only a few seconds later,
would have crushed them to atoms. So severe was the shock and so vivid
the sense of a Providential escape, that scarcely a word was spoken
during the drive home. The next morning she gave her husband a very
interesting account of the thoughts that, like lightning, flashed upon
her mind while feeling herself in the jaws of death. They related
exclusively to her children--how they would receive the news, and what
would become of them. [8]

Late in September she returned to town, still oppressed by the thought
of going to Chicago. In a letter to Mrs. Condict, dated October 2d, she
writes:

We got home on Friday night, and very early on Saturday were settled
down into the old routine. But how different everything is! At church
tearful, clouded faces; at home, warmhearted friends looking upon us as
for the last time. It is all right. I would not venture to change it
if I could; but it is hard. At times it seems as if my heart would
li