ady, with her lamp
trimmed and burning. Calling for her mother, she threw herself into
her embrace, as her spirit did into the embrace of her Saviour.

Just at midnight, on all the ships in Hampton Roads,--and which are so
near us that the cry on shipboard is distinctly heard on shore,--the
watchman cried aloud, as usual, "Twelve o'clock, and all's well!" The
sound penetrated the sick chamber, and the dying invalid apparently
heard it. She smiled sweetly, and then breathed her last sigh, and
entered upon that rest which remains for the people of God.

The next morning, which was the Sabbath, I called, and found her
husband and mother bearing up under their bereavement with Christian
fortitude. They could smile through their tears; though they wept, it
was not as those who have no hope. In the services of the day, the
bereaved were remembered in fervent, sympathizing prayer. We all felt
sorely afflicted, and would have grieved, but for the thought that our
temporary loss was her eternal gain. In the evening, a prayer meeting
was held till midnight in the room where her body lay; but all felt
like saying, She is not here; her spirit is with her Father and our
Father, her God and our God.

On Monday, at eleven o'clock, a large concourse assembled at her
funeral. We met in her school room, at the Brown Cottage, a place
sweetened and hallowed by associations with her crowning labors, and
thus a fit place for these leave-taking services. The occasion was one
of mingled sorrow and joy. The services were begun by singing,
according to her request, the familiar hymn,--

"I would not live alway,"--

to the tune of "Sweet Home," in which it is generally sung by the
people here, with the chorus,--

"Home! Home! Sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like heaven, there's no place like home!"

The impression was very thrilling. Chaplain Fuller, of the sixteenth
Massachusetts regiment, offered prayer--praying fervently for the
bereaved mother and husband, and for little Daisy, who would one day
realize more than now a mother's worth by her loss. We then sung,
according to her request, her favorite hymn, "The Christian's Home in
Glory," or "Rest for the Weary." I selected for my text Hebrews
4:9--"There remaineth therefore a rest to the people of God." At the
conclusion of the sermon the children sang,--

"Here we suffer grief and pain;
Here we meet to part again;
In heaven we part no more.