Mrs. Filmore was proud of her husband’s success in life, and desirous that no reasonable expectation of the public should be disappointed. She never absented herself from the public receptions, dinners, or _levées_, when it was possible to be present; but her delicate health frequently rendered them very painful. She sometimes kept her bed all day, to favor that weak ankle, that she might be able to endure the fatigue of the two hours she would be obliged to stand for the Friday evening _levées_. Mrs. Filmore was destined never to see again her old home in Buffalo, with mortal eyes. She contracted a cold on the day of Mr. Pierce’s inauguration, which resulted in pneumonia, of which she died, at Willard’s Hotel, Washington, 1853. What she is in the memory of her husband, may be judged by the fact—that he has carefully preserved every line that she ever wrote him, and has been heard to say that he could never destroy even the little notes that she sent him on business, to his office. The child of this truly wedded pair, Mary Abigail Filmore, was the rarest and most exquisite President’s daughter that ever shed sunshine in the White House. She survived her mother but a year, dying of cholera, at the age of twenty-two, yet her memory is a benison to all young American women, especially to those surrounded by the allurements of society and high station. She was not only the mistress of many accomplishments, but possessed a thoroughly practical education. She was taught at home, at Mrs. Sedgwick’s school, in Lenox, Massachusetts, and was graduated from the State Normal School of New York, as a teacher, and taught in the higher departments of one of the public schools in Buffalo. She was a French, German, and Spanish scholar; was a proficient in music; and an amateur sculptor. She was the rarest type of woman, in whom were blended, in perfect proportion, masculine judgment and feminine tenderness. In her were combined intellectual force, vivacity of temperament, genuine sensibility, and deep tenderness of heart. She saw clearly through the forms and shows of life, her views of its duties were grave and serious; yet, in her intercourse with others, she overflowed with bright wit, humor and kindliness. Her character was revealed in her face, for her soul shone through it. Words cannot tell what such a nature and such an intelligence would be, presiding over the social life of the Nation’s House. She used her opportunities, as the President’s daughter, to minister to others. She clung to all her old friends, without any regard to their position in life; her time and talents were devoted to their happiness. She was constantly thinking of some little surprise, some gift, some journey, some pleasure, by which she could contribute to the happiness of others. After the death of her mother, she went to the desolate home of her father and brother, and, emulating the example of that mother, relieved her father of all