e　may　meet　again　to　part　no　more。　If　our　present　positions　were　reversed；　this　would　please　me；　could　I　know　of　it；　and　so　I　trust　that　this　offering　of　a　son’s　unalterable　gratitude　and　affection　may　please　her；　for　after　all　such　things　are　the　most　fragrant　flowers　that　we　can　lay　upon　the　graves　of　our　beloved。　The　Protestant　Faith　seems　vaguely　to　inculcate　that　we　should　not　pray　for　the　dead。　If　so；　I　differ　from　the　Protestant　Faith；　who　hold　that　we　should　not　only　pray　for　them　but　to　them；　that　they　will　judge　our　frailties　with　tenderness　and　will　not　forget　us　who　do　not　forget　them。　Even　if　the　message　is　delivered　only　after　ten　thousand　years；　it　will　still　be　a　message　that　most　of　us　would　be　glad　to　hear；　and　if　it　is　never　delivered　at　all；　still　it　will　have　been　sent；　and　what　can　man　do　more？

I　know　that　my　mother　believed　that　such　efforts　are　not　in　vain；　for　she　was　filled　with　a　very　earnest　faith。　After　her　death；　in　the　drawer　of　her　writing…table　were　found　four　lines；　feebly　inscribed　in　pencil；　which　are　believed　to　be　the　last　words　she　wrote。　They　are　before　me　now　and　I　transcribe　them：

Lo！　in　the　shadowy　valley　here　He　stands：

？My　soul　pale　sliding　down　Earth’s　icy　slope

Descends　to　meet　Him；　with　beseeching　hands

？Trembling　with　Fear　—　and　yet　upraised　in　Hope。

My　mother　was　married　when　she　was　twenty…five　years　of　age；　and　children　came　in　what　ladies　nowadays　would　consider　superabundance。　The　eldest；　my　sister　Ella；　was　born　in　Rome　in　March　1845；　while　they　were　still　upon　a　marriage　tour；　and　subsequently；　in　quick　succession；　the　others　followed。　The　last　of　us；　my　brother　Arthur；　appeared　in　November　1860　—　well　do　I　remember　my　father　in　a　flowered　dressing…gown　telling　us　to　be　quie