last illness she spoke
about this episode, and said she looked back with surprise at the
courage she had exercised in going to London alone, and staying with
friends for the operation. Happily, like Madam Liberality, she too
earned a reward in the relief which she appreciated so keenly; for,
after this event, quinsies became things of the past to her, and she
had them no more.

On April 14, 1863, she wrote--

"MY DEAREST MOTHER,--I could knock my head off when I
think that _I_ am to blame for not being able to send you word
yesterday of the happy conclusion of this affair!! * * I cannot
apologize enough, but assure you I punished myself by two days'
suspense (a letter had been misdirected to the surgeon which
delayed his visit). I did intend to have asked if I might have
spent a trifle with the flower-man who comes to the door here, and
bring home a little adornment to my flower-box as a sugar-plum
after my operation * * now I feel I do not deserve it, but perhaps
you will be merciful!

"It was a tiresome operation--so choking! He (Mr. Smith, the
surgeon) was about an hour at it. He was more kind and considerate
than can be expressed; when he went I said to him, 'I am very much
obliged to you, first for telling me the truth, and secondly for
waiting for me.' For when I got 'down in the mouth,' he waited, and
chatted till I screwed up my courage again. He said, 'When people
are reasonable it is barbarous to hurry them, and I said you were
that when I first saw you.'"

April 16, 1863. "Thank you so much for letting me bring home a
flower or two! I do love them so much."

As Julie emerged from the nursery and began to take an interest in our
village neighbours, her taste for "projects" was devoted to their
interests. It was her energy that established a Village Library in
1859, which still remains a flourishing institution; but all her
attempts were not crowned with equal success. She often recalled, with
great amusement, how, the first day on which she distributed tracts as
a District Visitor, an old lady of limited ideas and crabbed
disposition called in the evening to restore the tract which had been
lent to her, remarking that she had brought it back and required no
more, as--"My 'usband does _not_ attend the public-'ouse, and we've no
unrewly children!"

My sister gave a series of Lessons[6] on the Liturgy in th