These two young sisters, who were both invalids, had vigorous, richly-endowed souls, and had always lived in a state of heartfelt friendship with each other, labouring together on literary subjects for the benefit of the young. Tenderly attached in life, it was well that they should accompany each other in death. But they have left great vacuum in the home where there is now only one daughter remaining. She who last died, lived during the last days of her earthly existence amid the most beautiful visions of her departed sister, and of their ascending together into a realm of glory.
The interment, at which I was present yesterday, took place according to Quaker custom, without any unnecessary pomp or parade, without any ceremony or show. It took place amid alternate short addresses both of men and women, and silence, all in accordance with the influence of the spirit. It was really very affecting when all the friends and relations were assembled in the house of the dead, and were sitting together in silence in one room, and the aged, deeply afflicted mother lifted up her trembling voice, and began in these words:—
“My heart has been severely tried, but God has seen me in his mercy!” All that she said came so purely from the depths of a Christian mother's heart, and was at the same time so tender in feeling, and so strong in faith and submission, that nothing could have been better. Most beautiful was the consolation which she derived from the knowledge of the purity of her departed daughters' views and objects in life, and the memory of her youngest daughter's last words shortly before her death.
When the mother ceased, amid the tears of all present, another elderly lady spoke and dried them again; for her speech was a cold and thin dilution of the words of the first. Then followed an elderly gentleman, who gave a third edition, but not improved. Nor indeed could it be.
