her, with her brother presiding at those rites whose very solemnity is half joy, even then, to borrow a fine image of her own from "Castruccio,"
"her shadow fell upon her grave,
She stood so near to it"
But, short and hurried as the time was, she neglected no duty, shrank from no call upon her intrepidity and watchfulness, forfeited no particle of claim to our admiration and regard: this, above all the rest, is certain and consolatory. A "ministering angel" amidst her husband's sickness; enduring, almost uncomplaining, under her own; self-denying and absorbed in care for others; thus, herself to the last, consistently ended the life of L. E. L.
A monument to her memory will ere long be erected in this country; probably in that church at Brompton which for years she attended, near which she through life resided, and in whose burial-place the "first grave" was beautifully commemorated by her pen. For herself, whose ashes should have rested beneath such a tribute to her genius and virtues—"She sleeps in the barren sands of Africa, and the mournful music of the billows, to which she listened in her solitary sea girt dwelling, is now the dirge that resounds over her distant grave."
