When the mission services were temporarily discontinued, we invited Mr. Sykes to deliver a series of parlor lectures. Miss Mead and I arranged the course, our friends and neighbors subscribing and giving their parlors. We were only able to give a small fee for the talks, but Mr. and Mrs. Sykes were so fond of literature that the preparation of the lectures was a labor of love. By and by a pretty little stone church was built for the mission. Unfortunately, the expense of the building was greater than the small congregation could afford, and for years there was a desperate struggle with a debt, which was finally paid off. My husband was too wise to advise this injudicious outlay, but he served for some years as a vestryman. The sister who had been my mate and dear companion from early childhood, Julia Romana Anagnos, died of typhoid fever in March, 1886. The Metaphysical Club, of which she was the founder and president, published a little volume containing the tributes to her memory. The following verses are by Dr. T. W. Parsons. GIULIA ROMANA ANAGNOS Giulia Romana! how thy trembling beauty, That oft would shudder at one breath of praise, Comes back to me! before the trump of duty Had marshalled thee in life’s laborious ways. We used to wonder at thy blush in hearing Thy parents praised. We now know what it meant: A consciousness of their gifts reappearing Perchance, in thine—to consummation blent. * * * * * Oh, she was beautiful, beyond all magic Of sculptor’s hand, or pencil to portray! Something angelical, divinely tragic, Tempered the smile that round her lips would play. Dear first born daughter of a hero’s heart! Pass to perfection, all but perfect here! We weep not much, remembering where thou art, Yet, child of Poesy! receive a tear. T. W. PARSONS. Some nine months after the death of sister Julia I was attacked with rheumatic fever. It did not, however, as in her case, turn into typhoid. My mother and husband were greatly alarmed, especially as Gen. John A. Logan died of the same disease, during my illness. In the midst of her distress my mother had a strange feeling that she could save my life by an effort of will. She did not content herself with praying only, but strongly opposed the administration of narcotics which the nurse in attendance was only too ready to give me in order that she herself might sleep. My mother determined that I should no longer be dosed with these. She sat by my bedside one night till the small hours of the morning, when I dropped off into a natural sleep. To her vigilance I probably owe my life.