In this same sketch we get an insight into the courage of Madam Liberality, “like little body with a mighty heart.” Often tortured by headache, toothache, and quinsy, “no sufferings abated her energy for fresh exploits or quenched the hope that cold and damp and fatigue could not hurt her ‘this time.’” Of Mrs. Ewing it is stated that “she was always coughing” as a girl, but her weakness never seemed to affect her vivacity. We read how Madam Liberality went alone to the dentist’s and allowed him to extract a horribly difficult tooth without flinching; she well merited the praise, “You’re the bravest little lady I ever knew.” This incident finds its counterpart in Mrs. Ewing’s life when she went alone to a London surgeon for an operation on her throat in order that no friend might be present at so unpleasant a scene. On the “ever-glorious first of June” in the year 1867 Juliana Gatty was married to Alexander Ewing, A.P.D. After two years spent in New Brunswick she returned to England with her husband, who for eight years was stationed at Aldershot. Here she acquired her close familiarity with military habits and the high appreciation of soldierly virtues which have made her later books both pathetic and stimulating. Of fragile frame herself, she has immortalised the famous south country camp. Not long after the final removal of Major Ewing from Aldershot the health of his wife began steadily to fail. She was compelled to remain in England when he had to serve in India, and she had to bear many crushed hopes during the last six years of her life. But her “lamp of zeal and high desire” continued to burn brightly. In the early part of 1885 she was seized with an attack of blood-poisoning. After a short period of physical and mental darkness she said truly that she would be “more patient than before.” At her request her sisters made a calendar for the week with the text above, “In your patience possess ye your souls.” Each day the date was struck through with a pencil. For another week she had the text, “Be strong and of a good courage,” and later still, when nights of suffering were added to days of pain, “The day is Thine; the night also is Thine.” Her brave life was closed on May 13th, so far as her visible presence in this life is concerned; but who can fail to appreciate the words from the _Newcomes_, which are the last entry made in Mrs. Ewing’s commonplace book, “If we still love those we lose, can we altogether lose those we love?”