Here, after many months have elapsed, and all possible inquiry has been anxiously and unweariedly made, we must leave what additional evidence has been dragged to light, to weigh against the melancholy impressions that her life had become "unendurable," and that the catastrophe was more "mournful" than accident or mere suddenness could render it. Against all such impressions we must religiously set, not merely the testimonies here collected, but the natural cheerfulness of her disposition, the buoyant feelings and resolute habits of a life—the crown of "fame and happiness" prepared for her—the growing powers and reputation, the new world of nature around her, and the recent entrance on that novel stage of enjoyment and interest adverted to above. Her amiable relative, the cousin who was her preceptor and friend in early youth, speaks of her thus:—"She endured pain with surprising fortitude whenever exertion was required; I have never met with any one who was so capable of it in any difficulty. Her ideas were always clear and at her command; she seemed to see what others never thought of." Faith in this fortitude and self-sustaining power, may well guard us against gloomy and needless fears, when we remember how faithful was her discharge of duty in the more sacred relations of life, how lofty and severe was her sense of what yet remained for her to do in that respect, how cheerfully she looked forward to the task, and what advantages she possessed for accomplishing it honourably and happily.
A touching and graceful compliment was once paid to L. E. L. It was a tribute from America,
