Few women who have led lives as quiet and unobtrusive as hers, have ever touched life at so many points. This was strikingly exemplified at her funeral, where were seen sad, and sorrowing, and weeping friends from all classes in life,—the young and the old, the rich and the poor, the uncultivated as well as the highly cultured,—all classes from her own sex, from the humble seamstress to the gay and fashionable woman of society. There came, too, to take their last look of her, representatives from all classes and creeds in the community,—the Rev. Father of the Roman Catholic Church, the Baptist clergyman, the Orthodox, and the Unitarian, as well as the clergy of her own communion, the Episcopal.
The funeral services were celebrated at the Church of the Messiah, on Florence St., on Thursday last, by the Rev. Mr. Knight; and at the grave by the rector of the church, the Rev. Mr. Williams.
I need not speak of the beautiful and touching burial service of the Church—rendered more impressive by the shock produced by her sudden and unexpected death, and more beautiful by all the means and appliances which affection, and love, and art could devise to take away the gloom of the grave.
Mrs. Rice has herself, at times, anticipated death in some of her terrible attacks. Not long since, when apparently in good health, she said to an intimate lady friend, "When I die, I care not what dress you put upon me, but cover me with flowers"—for which, like all true and beautiful souls, she had a passionate love.
Her request was carried out to the letter, and in most beautiful taste. In addition to the casket, which was covered and filled with them, the chancel of the church was lined on each side with a profusion of beautiful plants and flowers, while a wreath followed the outlines of the chancel front to the roof, and between each arch of the church was suspended a basket of flowers by a line so delicate as to escape observation, so that they really seemed to be poised and suspended in the air by some invisible power. The whole church was redolent of their perfume.
The writer of this sketch has never seen any floral arrangement, on such an occasion, which ever began to approach it in beauty; and no funeral services could be more beautiful and impressive than those of our departed friend. A large congregation were in attend-
