toms of violence or of depression; so far is favourable; but this
cruel alienation from me, in which my brother is included, still remains
deep-rooted, and whether he will ever change in this point Heaven only
knows. The medical men fear he will not: if so, my dear friend, what
remains for me but to resign myself to the will of Heaven, and to think
with pleasure that every day brings me nearer a period which naturally
cannot be very far off, and at which this as well as every temporal
affliction must terminate?

'"Anything but this!" is the cry of weak mortals when afflicted; and
sometimes I own I am inclined to make it mine; but I will check myself.'

But while she was hoping still, a fresh outbreak of the malady occurred.
He, poor soul, weary of his existence, put an end to his sufferings: he
was found lifeless in the New River. Lucy Aikin quotes a Dirge found
among her aunt's papers after her death:--

Pure Spirit, O where art thou now?
O whisper to my soul,
O let some soothening thought of thee
This bitter grief control.

'Tis not for thee the tears I shed,
Thy sufferings now are o'er.
The sea is calm, the tempest past,
On that eternal shore.

No more the storms that wrecked thy peace
Shall tear that gentle breast,
Nor summer's rage, nor winter's cold
That poor, poor frame molest.

* * * * *

Farewell! With honour, peace, and love,
Be that dear memory blest,
Thou hast no tears for me to shed,
When I too am at rest.

But her time of rest was not yet come, and she lived for seventeen years
after her husband. She was very brave, she did not turn from the
sympathy of her friends, she endured her loneliness with courage, she
worked to distract her mind. Here is a touching letter addressed to Mrs.
Taylor, of Norwich, in which she says:--'A thousand thanks for your kind
letter, still more for the very short visit that preceded it. Though
short--too short--it has left indelible impressions on my mind. My
heart has truly had communion with yours; your sympathy has been balm to
it; and I feel that there is _now_ no one on earth to whom I could pour
out that heart more readily.... I am now sitting alone again, and feel
like a person who has been sitting by a cheerful fire, not sensible at
the time of the temperature of the air; but the fire removed, he finds
the season is still winter. Day after day passes, and I do not know what
to