all thought she was getting well; but
the day after Christmas typhoid symptoms began to set in. I saw her on
the Monday following, found her greatly depressed, and did not stay
long. On Saturday morning, we got a dispatch we should have received
early on New Year's day, saying she was sinking. We hurried out, found
her flushed and bright, but near her end, having no pulse at either
wrist, and her hands and feet cold. She had had a distressing day and
night, but now seemed perfectly easy; knew us, gave us a glad welcome,
reminded me that I had promised to go with her to the end, and kissed us
heartily. Every time we went near her she gave us such a glad smile that
it was hard to believe she was going so soon. She talked incessantly,
with no signs of debility, but it was the restlessness of approaching
death.

At three in the afternoon they all came into the room, as they always
did at that hour. She said a few things, and evidently began to lose her
sight, for as Lewis was about to leave the room, she said, "Good-night,
L.," and then to me, "Why, Lizzy dear, you are not going to stay all
night?" I said, "Oh yes, don't you know I promised to stay with A., who
will be so lonely?" She looked pleased, but greatly surprised, her mind
being so weak, and in a few seconds she laid her restless hands on her
breast, her eyes became fixed, and the last gentle breaths began to come
and go. "Is the doctor here?" she asked. We told her no, and then Mr. S.
and the nurse, who were close each side of her, began to repeat a verse
or two of Scripture; then seeing she was apparently too far gone to
hear, Mr. S. leaned over and whispered, "My darling!" She made no
response, on which he said, "She can make no response," and she said,
"But I hear," gave one or two more gentle little breaths, and was gone.
I forgot to say that after her eyes were fixed, hearing Mr. S. groan,
she _stopped dying_, turned and gave a parting look! I never saw an
easier death, nor such a bright face up to the very last. One of the
doctors coming in, in the morning, was apparently overcome by the
extraordinary smile she gave him, for he turned away immediately without
a word, and left the house. I staid, as they wished me to do, till
Monday night, when I came home quite used up. Your sorrow, and the
sorrow at Brooklyn, and now this one, have come one after another until
it seemed as if there was no end to it; such is life, and we must bear
it patiently, knowing the