Aunt Mac's home. Her work was done and nobly done. She was not left to suffer, but while fond hearts would detain her and loving hands were clinging to her to keep her from dying, she silently vanished from our sight, and we can hardly see to write for the memory of her, though it is an arm's length till sunset. So vivid is it all before us, that we are again in the past and beside her. The white hands are so meekly folded upon the still bosom that there seems to be prayer in them there.
All lips are mute and all hearts are touched.
Even merry, rollicking Dash quits his sports and whines piteously. The pet canary has ceased its song, while the lofty pines outside sing a sad refrain as we bear the dear form from 54 the home she has gladdened for forty long years. The college bell sends out its solemn toll, as the casket is rested near the alter, and that good man the preacher, repeats words of consolation that fall like balm upon our wounded hearts.