We bless God for the natural evidence of a future life, which minds like these, bearing the visible stamp of immortality, afford; we bless him that such have existed, and we bless him that such have preceded those whom we love, to cast brightness over the dark valley of death. We hope this involuntary digression will be pardoned, and we return again to the subject of our memoir. We have spoken of her sensibility and elsewhere of her humility. This, however, must not be mistaken for that slothful quiescent sense of inferiority, which sometimes belongs to common minds. It was true christian humility; it was the consciousness of high moral capacities, falling far short of her exalted standard of excellence. The sensibility that led her so fully to appreciate the kindness of her friends, made her alive to injury. At any attempt at imposition, her spirit rose proportionably, and she expressed and felt a resentment for which she afterwards reproached herself. Her judgment and opinion of books was derived from her own power of thought. She did not wait for the decision of others, but expressed her own fearlessly, when called for. But it was on the subject of character that her mind discovered most acuteness and originality. Even in those whom she loved, she knew how to discriminate, and when she allowed herself to speak on the subject, plainly discovered that she knew how to separate the good from the evil, and that she had learned to love them with their faults. The last visit that Miss Adams made was to South Boston, in the family of the Superintendent of Juvenile Offenders. There was much in her short residence there to interest her mind. The success of this institution; the groups of rescued children, now cheerful and obedient; the disinterested kindness of the family; nor ought it to be forgotten, the beautiful situation of the building, overlooking the bay of Boston with its many islands, the harbor and city rising in its pyramid of beauty, and crowned by the dome of the State-house; all called forth her enthusiasm, and brightened the last days of her earthly existence. When she returned to her lodgings in Boston, she lamented the want of sun and of prospect. By the instrumentality of judicious friends, she was removed to Brookline; and when there, she wrote the following note to a friend, which, as the _last_ effort of her pen, is here inserted. DEAR MADAM--Will you excuse me if I trouble you with a few lines. I am now settled for the winter, _if I live_. The greatest earthly happiness I can enjoy is seeing my friends, among whom dear Mrs ---- is in the first rank. I need not inform you, and I am unable to express, how much pleasure it would give me to see you in Brookline. The lady I am now boarding with is all goodness. My trembling hand will scarcely allow me to write. Adieu, dear Madam; pray call upon me as soon as you can conveniently. From your affectionate and grateful friend,