hours and a half, when I took it again, and in about an hour more she breathed her last. I was able to close her eyes myself, and it was a great gratification to me to be able to render her those last services. There was nothing convulsed which gave the idea of pain in her look; on the contrary, but for the continual motion of her head, she gave one the idea of a beautiful statue, and even now, in her coffin, there is such a sweet serene air over her countenance as is quite pleasant to contemplate. . . .
"The last sad ceremony is to take place on Thursday morning; her dear remains are to be deposited in the Cathedral. It is a satisfaction to me to think they are to lie in a building she admired so much."
Nine days later, when she had returned home again, Cassandra wrote to the same niece—
"Chawton,
"Tuesday (July 29, 1817).
"My Dearest Fanny,
"I have just read your letter for the third time, and thank you most sincerely for every kind expression to myself, and still more warmly for your praises of her who, I believe, was better known to you than to any human being besides myself. Nothing of the sort could have been more gratifying to me than the manner in which you write of her, and if the dear angel is conscious of what passes here, and is not above all earthly feelings, she may, perhaps, receive pleasure in being so mourned. . . .
"Thursday was not so dreadful a day to me as you imagined. There was so much necessary to be done that there was no time for additional misery. Everything was conducted with the greatest tranquillity, and,
