There was a young lady on that train. Accomplished and beautiful, she had already become the object of admiration to many, and was the pride of fond parents. Blooming, buoyant and hopeful, she was a delightful companion. Her light, rosy complexion so radiant made her a picture of health. She used to laugh and say to her mother, “I never have any compliments except that I am such a healthy looking girl.” Her mother writes:

“On her sweet, fair hand she wore a slender thread of gold which held the setting of a very brilliant, though not large, diamond. On the same finger she wore a heavy, plain, gold ring. Her wardrobe was very complete and almost entirely new. Her jewelry consisted of turquoise, pearls, Florentine mosaics and Genoese silver. Everything she had in the way of ornament or jewelry, she had with her. She had a link gold necklace and gold handkerchief ring, with a small ring for the finger attached by a slender chain. A Chegary medal in the form of a Greek enameled cross, was in her trunk, the sign of honor from the school where she had graduated. In that trunk were also many dresses, beautiful and expensive and becoming to her form. All she had, she took with her. Her bridesmaid’s dress was with her; she was dressed in it only the week before at the wedding of her dearest friend; she also had it on at a wedding the night before she started. Yet she was not a mere child of fashion! She was born to social position and always accustomed to society; it was the daily habit of her life but brought no excitement with it. She really cared but little for parties, and often spoke in that way. She was an active member of the Episcopal church and very conscientious in the performance of her duties. Her love of sacred music seemed like an inspiration; I have watched her face become almost transfigured by a holiness of expression which would flit across it while she was singing. She had been kept singularly free from the little vanities and excitements of a young lady’s life, by the grace of God, who kept her as pure a child as when He gave her to me a precious infant. Oh! it comes to me now how carelessly I thought of my treasure. How little I appreciated the great trust that God had given me. How I thought of her as an ordinary girl.”

The thought of her death had never entered the minds of her parents. But she died, and everything connected with her was strangely swept away. The sad consolation of weeping over her silent remains was denied. Her picture, for which she stood two days before her starting, was the only mercy which God had vouchsafed the parents. Her mother again writes: “It would indeed be a comfort to me to have even one little thing which would seem a part of herself, but we have not one trace of her personal belongings.” Her funeral was attended in the city of her home, but the remembrance of her sweet spirit and beautiful voice was all that the friends had to comfort them. The following are the eloquent, heart-felt words which dropped from the lips of an affectionate and aged pastor at her funeral, as the sweet fragrance of her life and spirit came before his mind. He says:

“I dare hardly venture a few words upon the sweet singer of our Israel, who was but yesterday the charm, and the graceful and elegant ornament to our choir. Here she won the confidence and love of all of us. Here she uttered those sweet sounds which captivated all hearts. Here she became known to us as the happy, the cheerful, the glad and always unselfish and noble-natured girl, the almost idol of her bereaved parents and the pride and joy of her companions. Here on the last day of our Holy Communion service she was present and joined with us in that hallowed song of love and worship which she now repeats and sings with the angels and blessed spirits of that other and better world, in the presence of God and His holy angels.”

Thus passed away the beautiful, the lovely, the song-like spirit of sweet Minnie Mixer.

The story has been told of a young man who so anxiously looked for some trace of his mother’s body during those sad days in which so much sorrow was concentrated. A description of that mother’s character has been well drawn, by those who knew her.

Mrs. Adelia E. Moore, of Hammondsport, was a member of the Episcopal Church and the following are the tributes of affection bestowed by the clergymen who officiated at her funeral.

Rev. Mr. Cushing said of her:

“Can I ever forget her presence and her image under my own roof during three of the most painfully anxious days of my life, watching through the long, long winter night; wakeful to every sound, to every movement, to every want; the low, soothing voice, the noiseless step, the gentle hand wiping away the clammy sweat, and standing by us, patiently and willingly, until the crisis was past? (Mrs. C. dangerously ill of pneumonia is the occasion referred to.) I could not but refer to this, not only as an expression of grateful acknowledgement which is justly due, but also as speaking for many others to whom she was a friend indeed, because a friend in need—just that kind of need in which, above all other needs, we feel the weakest, the most utterly powerless in our own unaided selves.

“In this way, and in these kind offices, she may be said wherever residing and through all the mature years of her life, to have gone about doing good, unostentatious, unpublished good; and the crowning beauty of it all, as respects her, is that she claimed no merit for these disinterested acts, expected no human recompense, but performed them; went at any one’s call, because she deemed it her duty to go, or because it was the impulse of her sympathizing heart. She was truly the Good Samaritan of her sex.”

The Rev. Mr. Gardner also said:

“And oh! how much we shall all miss her; we shall miss her as a busy parish worker; we shall miss her in the Sunday-school, and her class of little children will sadly miss her; so will the Ladies’ Sewing Society miss her, for she was one of its chief workers, but memorials of her in the Society’s work will long remain—even longer, perhaps, than any of us shall live to see. And the sick and afflicted will most surely miss her; for it may be said of her as it was of her Divine Master, she ‘went about doing good.’ For this work she had a peculiar fitness—going in and out among the sick as if it were her special calling. Many are the families where she has ministered, and with one voice they will attest all that I have said of her. But above all, her family will miss her—the wife and mother, the sister and near relative are gone, gone before, not lost.”

And the Rev. Mr. Howard said of her:

“Of the estimable lady whose death we commemorate, it may be said that one has been taken out from the bosom of this church and of this community, who was inspired and warmed with all its life, religious, social and domestic; alive to, and promoting according to her ability, everything which conduced to its welfare and improvement. All the consolation which may ever be legitimately drawn from Christian character, may be justly claimed and appropriated here. She was indeed a good woman, and one of the saints of God.”