On the following Friday, when the coffin was carried into the hall, and placed in its case ready for removal across the Irish Channel, the landing and stairs were filled with patients who had crept there from the wards to see the last of one who had brought so much happiness into their wretched lives. And when she was carried to her last resting-place in the picturesque churchyard of Fahan, within sound of the rippling waters of Lough Swilly, she was followed, as was fitting, by nearly the whole population, many of whom could thank God for blessing which she had been the means of bringing to them. Until the resurrection morning she might be hidden from the eyes of those who loved her; but none who knew her could ever forget her. Hear the testimony of one of the workhouse officials to the writer, more than twenty-five years after, when the question, "Do you remember Miss Jones?" was asked. "Remember her? I should think I do. I could never forget her. She used to have a Bible class on Sunday afternoons and on a week-day evening in that little vestry belonging to the church. She began it for the nurses, but there were only about fifteen of them then, and so she used to let us officers go as well if we liked. I used to love it, for it was beautiful to see her sitting there so homely and nice, and then she used to pray with us and expound the Scriptures. Oh, it was a real help, I can tell you! But it was a wonder to me how she lived those last few weeks of her life. You see the cholera broke out, and there was a lot of fever besides, typhus and different sorts, and she could never rest for looking after and caring for them all. Why, I've seen her in those wards there myself between two and three o'clock in the morning. Ah! she was a Christian, she was. Saint was the word for her, for if ever there was a saint upon this earth, it was Miss Jones. She seemed to me to live in heaven, and heaven was in her and about her and all around her." "Only a tender love, Stilling the restless moan, Soothing the sufferer, Cheering the lone. * * * * * Only a woman's heart; Yet she forgot her care, Finding on every side Burdens to bear. * * * * * Humbly she walked with God, Listening to catch His voice, And 'twas His work for her, Not her own choice. And when that work was done, Life's quiet evening come, What then awaited her? Only a tomb? Nay, but a mansion fair Near to the great white throne, And the dear Master's word Saying, 'Well done.'" ELLEN L. COURTENAY. ELIZABETH, DUCHESS OF GORDON. I. EARLY DAYS.