oped indefatigably. She was still tender-hearted
in the sense in which Gray speaks--

"To each his sufferings: all are men
Condemned alike to groan,
The tender for another's pain,
The unfeeling for his own."

She still had a good deal of ill-health and ill-luck, and a good
deal of pleasure in spite of both. She was happy in the happiness
of others, and pleased by their praise. But she was less
head-strong and opinionated in her plans, and less fretful when
they failed. It is possible, after one has cut one's wisdom-teeth,
to cure oneself even of a good deal of vanity, and to learn to play
the second fiddle very gracefully; and Madam Liberality did not
resist the lessons of life.

GOD teaches us wisdom in divers ways. Why He suffers some
people to have so many troubles, and so little of what we call
pleasure in this world, we cannot in this world know. The heaviest
blows often fall on the weakest shoulders, and how these endure and
bear up under them is another of the things which GOD
knows better than we.

Julie did absolutely remain "the same" during the three months of heavy
suffering which, in GOD'S mysterious love, preceded her death. Perhaps it
is well for us all to know that she found, as others do, the intervals of
exhausted relief granted between attacks of pain were not times in which
(had it been needed) she could have changed her whole character, and, what
is called, "prepare to die." Our days of health and strength are the ones
in which this preparation must be made, but for those who live, as she did,
with their whole talents dedicated to GOD'S service, death is only the gate
of life--the path from joyful work in this world to greater capacities and
opportunities for it in the other.

I trust that what I have said about Julie's religious life will not
lead children to imagine that she was gloomy, and unable to enjoy her
existence on earth, for this was not the case. No one appreciated and
rejoiced in the pleasures and beauties of the world more thoroughly
than she did: no one could be a wittier and brighter companion than
she always was.

Early in February 1885, she was found to be suffering from a species
of blood-poisoning, and as no cause for this could then be discovered,
it was thought that change of air might do her good, and she was
taken from her home at Taunton, to lodgings at Bath. She had been