gure; these visions are accurately described, each detail dwelt on with loving care.
In the Reminiscences she tells of Julia's consecrated life, of her devotion to her father, and to the blind pupils; describes, too, her pleasure in speaking at te alike the crudeness of scepticism and the fierceness of intolerance.
In the Reminiscences we find also the record of Julia's parting injunction to her husband: Be kind to the little blind children, for they are papa's children.
These partint, we grayhaired children leaned on her, clung to her, as in the days when we were children indeed.
A few years before Julia's death, our mother wrote to Mrs. Cheney, who had lost her only daughter: This combat of the soul with deadly sorrow is aa strange feeling that I could keep her alive by some effort of my will.
I seemed to contend with God, saying, I gave up Julia, I can't give up Flossy — she has children. . . .
December 28. Most of the day with dear Flossy, who seems a little b