she was.

Mrs. Simmons came, and Miss Sunderland, notwithstanding our careful
preparations, was so overcome with emotion at meeting her old friend,
that for some time she could scarcely speak. After this warmth of
feeling had subsided, she looked up in her face with a pleasant smile,
and said:

'I was well named, after all. I have entered into the joy of my Lord.'

The next day she had an earnest talk with her friend on the present
state of the country. Her faith had returned through intuition, but the
grasp of her intellect was weakened by disease, and she could not see
clearly the grounds of it. Mrs. Simmons, though she had, like the rest
of us, seasons of doubt, was in a very hopeful mood that morning,
hopeful for our leading men, for the common people, and for the tendency
of events; and she explained the reasons for her belief that the
enormities of that period were no new crime, but a remnant of the old
not to be eradicated at once, any more than it is possible for an
individual to turn from great baseness to real goodness without some
backslidings, even after the most unmistakable of conversions. Miss
Sunderland was satisfied, the future again became clear to her, and
after that she seemed to lose interest in the details of affairs. Her
thoughts and conversation were filled with heaven and a regenerated
earth.

We clung to hope as long as possible, but she herself saw the end of the
disease from the beginning. She talked with us, and with the soldiers
who were permitted to see her, as long as she was able. Wise words she
spoke, and words ever to be remembered; but at last weakness overcame
her, and her life was but a succession of gasps. One morning, after
being unconscious for many hours, she opened her eyes wide and looked at
us. She glanced from one to the other, and then, fixing her gaze on Mrs.
Simmons, said:

'Mary, I am glad--I am glad'--but she was too weak, she could not finish
the sentence. Again she essayed. We heard the words 'frightfully
homely,' but we could not catch the rest. The light faded from her eyes,
and we thought we had seen the last expression of that wise and vigorous
mind; but the next day the bright, conscious look came again into her
face, but it gave no evidence of recognition, though ardent affection
sought eagerly for it. For a moment she lay still, and then said, in a
feeble but distinct voice:

'It is better to enter into life maimed and halt than, having two hands
and tw