The result of such unusual evenness of disposition was owing, in a great measure, to the tender sympathy and ennobling affection of her husband, whose ambition was gratified only when he saw that she was content. With her there was no variation or change, no despondency or doubt as to his success in any avocation; she hovered round his pathway, a beacon, and the light never grew dim. True and faithful in all things, at all times, she ever was; but there was even more of ceaseless vigilance than mere faith implies, where he was concerned. To him who shielded her in her sensitiveness and overflowing affectional nature, and, by his gentleness and unremitting watchfulness, guarded every avenue of her heart from sorrow, she meted the wealth of her love and fondness—and existed in the sunshine of his presence. After her husband’s accession to the Presidency, she went to the White House; but the recent death of a sister kept her from entering into the gayety of the outer world. As much as possible she screened herself from public observation, and left to her daughter the duties devolving upon her. Her health had become impaired, and she rather shrank from the necessity of appearing before the world in the position in which she was more than competent to acquit herself. In such a formal routine of life she did not delight; hers was a confiding nature, and to her family she always turned for the happiness the world could not give. Mr. Fillmore’s friends in New York, soon after he became President, presented her with a fine carriage and a costly pair of horses. This carriage was used by the family during their stay in the White House. After his wife’s death, Mr. Fillmore sold it and invested the proceeds in a set of plate, which he preferred to the elegant equipage and horses. But only by the most exact details, by endless particularities, breathing out her whole life and giving evidence, by their nature, of the depths from which they spring; only by such means is it possible, in a degree, to give some perception of her remarkable life—the fountain can only be judged of by the channel through which it flows. She died at Willard’s Hotel, Washington City, on the 30th of March, 1853. In testimony of respect to the memory of the deceased, the public offices were closed, both houses of Congress adjourned, and other marks of respect were adopted. Her remains were conveyed to Buffalo, where, on the 2d of April, they were laid to rest. The accompanying letter, written by a well-known lady of Buffalo, who was much of the time an inmate of the White House during Mrs. Fillmore’s stay there, is replete with interest, and gives us an insight into the home-life of this noble woman, we could in no other way obtain.