t the privilege was doubly
precious during her last illness. To see how a frail woman, with an
exquisitely nervous temperament, could deliberately and calmly bid
farewell to family, pupils, and friends, and yield herself into her
Father's hands, to pass through the ordeal of sickness and death, was
a privilege and a blessing.

In her presence I was a learner, and, under the inspiration of her
words and example, obtained new strength for fresh endeavors in the
cause of God and humanity. In one of my visits, she told me that I
must give her love to the committee in New York, and all the friends
of the mission; that she had had a bright vision of her Saviour, and
he had assured her that the cause would triumph; that we were sowing
seed which would spring up and become a tree, to overspread the whole
earth; that we should be a great blessing to this down-trodden people,
and they would fulfill a glorious destiny. "Oh, yes," said she,
"brother Lockwood, you will succeed, for Jesus has told me so this
morning."

For two weeks previous to her death, she seemed to be in the "land of
Beulah," on the "mountains of the shepherds," where, like Bunyan's
pilgrim, she could clearly descry the promised land. She had a strong
desire to depart and be with Christ, which was far better than even
his most intimate earthly visits. Again and again, as I called to see
her, she assured me that she had had a fresh visit from her Saviour,
and he had told her that where he was she should be, and she would be
like him when she should see him as he is. She knew not where in the
universe heaven might be, but where her Saviour was, there would be
her heaven, for she would be with him.

Her constantly increasing cough and expectoration, though not attended
with much pain, were, as usual, accompanied with uneasiness, want of
sleep, and great weakness, which made her frequently request prayer
that she might have patience to bear all without a murmur, and await
her Father's will. She wanted to say, with the feelings of Job, "All
the days of my appointed time will I wait, till my change come. I know
that my Redeemer liveth."

At one time, her symptoms seemed more favorable, and I expressed a
hope of her recovery. "No," said she; "I have taken leave of my
family, and of every thing on earth, and I would rather go, if it be
God's will; only I want to wait patiently till he comes to call me."
Her husband and mother told me that, during the previous night,