olicity of spirit, and adorned with every excellent attribute, any
attempt at panegyric here seems as needless as it must be inadequate.
Here there is nothing to depress or deplore, nothing premature or
startling, nothing to be supplemented or finished. It is the
consummation of a long life, well rounded with charitable deeds,
active sympathies, toils, loving ministrations, grand testimonies, and
nobly self-sacrificing endeavors. She lived only to do good, neither
seeking nor desiring to be known, ever unselfish, unobtrusive,
compassionate, and loving, dwelling in God and God in her."

The last look was then taken, the last kiss given, and the coffin,
lifted by those who loved and honored the form it enclosed, was borne
to its resting-place in Mount Hope Cemetery.

"Dear friend," wrote Angelina to me, before yet the last rites had
been performed, "you know what I have lost, not _a sister only_, but a
mother, friend, counsellor,--everything I could lose in a woman."

The longer our loved ones are spared to us, the closer becomes the tie
by which we are bound to them, and the deeper the pain of separation.
It was thus with Angelina. She could rejoice at her sister's blessed
translation, but she keenly felt the bereavement notwithstanding.
Their lives had been so bound together; they had walked so many years
side by side; they had so shared each other's burdens, cares, and
sorrows, that she who was left scarcely knew how to live the daily
life without that dear twin-soul. And so tender, so true and sacred
was the communion which had grown between them, that they could not be
separated long.

Angelina continued, as her feeble health permitted, to do alone the
work Sarah had shared with her. The sick, the poor, the sorrowing,
were looked after and cared for as usual; but as she was already
weighed down by declining years, the burdens she tried to bear were
too heavy. Sarah used to say: "Angelina's creed is, for herself, work
till you drop; for others, spare yourself." Now, with no anxiously
watchful sister to restrain her, she overtaxed every power, and
brought on the result which had been long feared,--the paralysis which
finally ended her life.

Those who have read Mr. Weld's beautiful memorial of his wife, with
the touching account of her last days, will find no fault, I am sure,
if I reproduce a portion of it here, while to those who have not been
so fortunate, it will show her sweet Christian spirit, mighty in its