rateful for that I have had them so long. Why, I
do think I am grateful for _this_, too. Come, let us be grateful
together.' Her half-palsied husband could respond only in weakest
words to the appeal of his unpalsied wife. While exulting in the
sublime triumph of her spirit over the stroke that felled her, well
might he feel abashed, as he did, to find that, in such a strait, he
was so poor a help to her who, in all his straits, had been such a
help to him. After a pause she added: 'Oh, possibly it is only the
effect of my being so tired out last night. Why, it seems to me I was
never half so tired. I wonder if a hard rubbing of your strong hands
mightn't throw it off.' Long and strongly he plied with friction the
parts affected, but no muscle responded. All seemed dead to volition
and motion. Though thus crippled in a moment, she insisted upon
rising, that she might be ready for breakfast at the usual hour. As
the process of dressing went on, she playfully enlivened it thus:
'Well, here I am a baby again; have to be dressed and fed, perhaps
lugged round in arms or trundled in a wheel-chair, taught to walk on
one foot, and sew and darn stockings with my left hand. Plenty of new
lessons to learn that will keep me busy. See what a chance I have to
learn patience! The dear Father knew just what I needed,' etc.

"Soon after breakfast she gave herself a lesson in writing with her
left hand, stopping often, as she slowly scrawled on, to laugh at her
'quail tracks.' After three months of tireless persistence, she
partially recovered the use of her paralyzed muscles, so that she
could write, sew, knit, wipe dishes, and sweep, and do 'very
shabbily,' as she insisted, almost everything that she had done
before.

"During the six years that remained of her life here, she had what
seemed to be two other slight shocks of paralysis,--one about three
years after the first, and the other only three weeks before her
death. This last was manifest in the sudden sinking of her bodily
powers, preeminently those of speech. During all those years she
looked upon herself as 'a soldier hourly awaiting orders,' often
saying with her good-night kiss, 'May be this will be the last
_here_,' or, 'Perhaps I shall send back my next from the other shore;'
or, 'The dear Father may call me from you before morning;' or,
'Perhaps when I wake, it may be in a morning that has no night; then I
can help you more than I can now.'

"Many letters received aske