wrote a " farewell," which after her death, was given to the friends for whom she had most regard. It may fitly find its place here : —
" City of many sorrows, fare thee well ;
Clasped in thy dusky arms, dear comrades dwell.
Comfort them, Mother, keep thou them this night ;
Breathe on them softly, let their cares lie light,
And if they feel me watching through their sleep,
Let them not see mine eyes as those that weep ;
Let me not bring to them one thought of pain,
But calmly pass, like some far distant strain
Of rugged music, borne on summer wind,
God's air between us — discords all refined
To subtlest harmonies, while halting speech,
Grown inarticulate, doth deeper reach.
Tell them, O Mother City, monitress,
That not defect of love, but love's excess,
Doth hold me quiet now, doth still my heart,
And teach me that true lovers never part. "
It is obvious that these are very scanty materials for a biography. Nor is the absence of events compensated, in any full measure, by a large mass of correspondence. Living in a comparatively narrow home-circle, not recognised by her friends as one who was likely to win her way to fame, and whose letters were on that account worth keeping, comparatively few seem to have been kept. The greater part of the correspondence placed in my hands had its starting-point in her business relations with the two publishing
