nd to Seattle, to be with their
daughter, Mrs. Parsons. The mere recital of all these journeyings may
give the impression that the life in Colorado Springs was a very broken
one, but it did not seem so to her friends there, for at each return it
was resumed so quickly and so quietly that they think of it rather as
continuous. No friend and no interest she had in any work that helped on
the general welfare was ever ignored or forgotten by her wherever she
might be.

Probably there has never been any one in Colorado Springs with so many
enforced absences and the same limitations of strength who has done as
much as she in enriching individual lives with friendship and the
community life with sympathy and generous material aid. Nothing that she
counted a duty sat lightly on her mind or conscience.

Miss Ellen T. Brinley, who was for many years a friend and neighbor of
Mrs. Bemis, wrote shortly after her death: "She was a real New Englander
of a type all too rare in these degenerate days. For many years she was
not very strong, and yet she was one of the least self-indulgent people
that ever lived. Wealth to her was not a reason for luxury and pleasure
seeking, but an opportunity for helping others--with a lack of
ostentation characteristic of her whole nature. She was truly a secret
helper. That the young should have their chance in life and that the
paths of the needy should be made more easy, became increasingly the
object of her life. Colorado College and the Young Women's Christian
Association were the two organizations in Colorado Springs whose welfare
she had most at heart, and for them she was constantly devising liberal
things. In the wakeful hours of the night, she planned to relieve the
sufferings of others, and her spirit of good will came from no weak
sentimentality. She was a woman of good judgment, an incisive mind, and
a strong character. She was a wonderfully loyal friend and her daily
life centred in her own family circle, in a few personal friendships,
and in the benevolence which was her avocation."

[Illustration]

Even her closest friends knew but little of her constant and quiet deeds
of kindness, and that rarely from her directly. It could never be said
of her that she was "confidential with her left hand." From the
recipients of her generosity more is known than could have been learned
from her. Often with an apology lest she might seem to intrude, she
learned if friends, and sometimes mere acqua