There was a large and almost silent funeral at the house, and at the
cemetery several thousand persons were gathered. When friends were
standing by the open grave, a low voice said, ""Will no one say
anything?" and another responded, "Who can speak? the preacher is
dead!"

Memorial services were held in various cities. For such a woman as
Lucretia Mott, with cultured mind, noble heart, and holy purpose,
there are no sex limitations. Her field is the world.

Those who desire to know, more of this gifted woman will find it in a
most interesting volume, _Lives of James and Lucretia Mott_, written
by their grandaughter, Anna Davis Hallowell, West Medford, Mass.

MARY A. LIVERMORE.

[Illustration: MARY A. LIVERMORE.]

When a nation passes through a great struggle like our Civil War,
great leaders are developed. Had it not been for this, probably Mrs.
Livermore, like many other noble women, would be to-day living quietly
in some pleasant home, doing the common duties of every-day life. She
would not be the famous lecturer, the gifted writer, the leader of the
Sanitary Commission in the West; a brilliant illustration of the work
a woman may do in the world, and still retain the truest womanliness.

She was born in Boston, descended from ancestors who for six
generations had been Welsh preachers, and reared by parents of the
strictest Calvinistic faith. Mr. Rice, her father, was a man of
honesty and integrity, while the mother was a woman of remarkable
judgment and common sense.

Mary was an eager scholar, and a great favorite in school, because she
took the part of all the poor children. If a little boy or girl was
a cripple, or wore shabby clothes, or had scanty dinners, or was
ridiculed, he or she found an earnest friend and defender in the
courageous girl.

So fond was she of the five children in the home, younger than
herself, and so much did she take upon herself the responsibility of
their conversion, that when but ten years old, unable to sleep, she
would rise from her bed and waken her father and mother that they
might pray for the sisters. "It's no matter about me," she would say;
"if they are saved, I can bear anything."

Mature in thought and care-taking beyond her years, she was still
fond of out-door sports and merry times. Sliding on the ice was her
especial delight. One day, after a full hour's fun in the bracing
air, she rushed into the house, the blood tingling in every vein,
exclaiming,