HER hand has lost its cunning—the firm, true hand that wrote these formulÆ, and penned the information contained in this little book. Cold in the silent tomb lie the once nimble, useful fingers,—now nerveless, unable for anything, and ne’er to do work more in this world! Exquisite palate, unerring judgment, sound common sense, refined tastes,—all these had the dear Lady who has gone ere her youth had scarcely come. But four times seven years were all she passed in this world; and since the day she became wedded wife—now nearly nine years past—her greatest, chiefest aims were to provide for the comfort and pleasure of those she loved and had around her, and to employ her best faculties for the use of her sisters, Englishwomen generally. Her surpassing affection and devotion led her to find her happiness in aiding, with all her heart and soul, the Husband whom she richly blessed and honoured with her abounding love.

Her Works speak for themselves; and, although taken from this world in the very height of health and strength, and in the early days of womanhood, she felt that satisfaction—so great to all who strive with good intent and warm will—of knowing herself regarded with respect and gratitude,

Her labours are ended here; in a purer atmosphere she dwells; and may be, in the land beyond the skies, she has nobler work to accomplish. Her plans for the future cannot be wholly carried out: her Husband knew them all, and will diligently devote himself to their execution, as far as may be. The remembrance of her wishes,—always for the private and public welfare,—and the companionship of her two little boys,—too young to know the virtues of their good Mother,—this memory, this presence, will nerve the Father, left alone, to continue to do his duty: in which he will follow the example of his Wife, for her duty no woman has ever better accomplished than the late