capable of spreading a contagious fondness for the study of medicine, as
Dr. Black once kindled a chemical enthusiasm in Edinburgh.

Often did I ponder her past life, which had left significant lines on
face and form. We met seldom,--always with perfect trust. Whatever I might
have to say, I should have felt sure of being understood, if I had not
seen her for six months; nor could she have failed to find a welcome in my
heart for any words of hers.

Then I heard the course of lectures which she delivered to ladies in the
spring of 1860. For the first time, I heard a woman speak of scientific
subjects in a way that satisfied me; nor should I have blushed to find
scientific men among her audience. I had felt, from the first, that her
life might do what my words never could: namely, inspire women with faith
to try their own experiments; give them a dignity, which should refuse to
look forward to marriage as an end, while it would lead them to accept it
gladly as a providential help. I did not fear that she would be untrue to
her vocation, or easily forsake it for a more domestic sphere. She had not
entered it, I could see, without measuring her own purpose and its use.

It was with such feelings, and such knowledge of Marie, that in a private
conversation, last summer with Miss Mary L. Booth of New York, I heard
with undisguised pleasure that she had in her possession an autobiography
of her friend, in the form of a letter. I really longed to get possession
of that letter so intensely, that I dared not ask to see it: but I urged
Miss Booth to get consent to its publication; "for," I said, "no single
thing will help my work, I am convinced, so much."

"I look forward to its publication," she replied, "with great delight: it
will be the sole labor of love, of my literary life. But neither you nor I