e part of wisdom, and no sin
Against the law of love, to measure lots
With less distinguished than ourselves, that thus
We may with patience bear our moderate ills,
And sympathize with others, suffering more."

I think she made us feel--she certainly made me feel--that our lot was
in many ways an unusually fortunate one, and full of responsibilities.
She herself was always thinking what she could do for others, not only
immediately about her, but in the farthest corners of the earth. She
had her Sabbath-school class, and visited all the children in it: she
sat up all night, very often, watching by a sick girl's bed, in the
hospital or in some distant boarding-house; she gave money to send to
missionaries, or to help build new churches in the city, when she was
earning only eight or ten dollars a month clear of her board, and could
afford herself but one "best dress," besides her working clothes. That
best dress was often nothing but a Merrimack print. But she insisted
that it was a great saving of trouble to have just this one, because
she was not obliged to think what she should wear if she were invited
out to spend an evening. And she kept track of all the great
philanthropic movements of the day. She felt deeply the shame and wrong
of American slavery, and tried to make her workmates see and feel it
too.(Petitions to Congress for the abolition of slavery in the District
of Columbia were circulated nearly every year among the mill-girls, and
received thousands of signatures.)

Whenever she was not occupied with her work or her reading, or with
looking after us younger ones,--two or three hours a day was all the
time she could call her own,--she was sure to be away on some errand of
friendliness or mercy.

Those who do most for others are always those who are called upon
continually to do a little more, and who find a way to do it. People go
to them as to a bank that never fails. And surely, they who have an
abundance of life in themselves and who give their life out freely to
others are the only really rich.

Two dollars a week sounds very small, but in Emilie's hands it went
farther than many a princely fortune of to-day, because she managed
with it to make so many people happy. But then she wanted absolutely
nothing for herself; nothing but the privilege of helping others.

I seem to be eulogizing my sister, though I am simply relating matters
of fact. I could not, however, illustrate my own early expe