striking novelty or profundity of her commentary on life that made it
memorable, it was simply the truth of what she said and the gentleness
with which she said it. Epigrams are worth little for guidance to the
perplexed, and less for comfort to the wounded. But the plain, homely
sayings which come from a soul that has learned the lesson of patient
courage in the school of real experience, fall upon the wound like
drops of balsam, and like a soothing lotion up on the eyes smarting and
blinded with passion.

She spoke of those who had walked with her long ago in her garden, and
for whose sake, now that they had all gone into the world of light,
every flower was doubly dear. Would it be a true proof of loyalty to
them if she lived gloomily or despondently because they were away? She
spoke of the duty of being ready to welcome happiness as well as to
endure pain, and of the strength that endurance wins by being grateful
for small daily joys, like the evening light, and the smell of roses,
and the singing of birds. She spoke of the faith that rests on the
Unseen Wisdom and Love like a child on its mother's breast, and of the
melting away of doubts in the warmth of an effort to do some good in
the world. And if that effort has conflict, and adventure, and confused
noise, and mistakes, and even defeats mingled with it, in the stormy
years of youth, is not that to be expected? The burn roars and leaps in
the den; the stream chafes and frets through the rapids of the glen; the
river does not grow calm and smooth until it nears the sea. Courage is a
virtue that the young cannot spare; to lose it is to grow old before
the time; it is better to make a thousand mistakes and suffer a thousand
reverses than to refuse the battle. Resignation is the final courage
of old age; it arrives in its own season; and it is a good day when it
comes to us. Then there are no more disappointments; for we have learned
that it is even better to desire the things that we have than to have