announcement of her own conviction that there would be no more meetings,
but a grave opened to receive her in a foreign land.

'"Dearest Alick,

'"Do not think of coming here, as you dread the climate. Indeed, it
would be almost too painful to me to part from you again; and as it
is, I can wait patiently for the end, among people who are kind and
loving enough to be comfortable without too much feeling of the pain
of parting. The leaving Luxor was rather a distressing scene, as they
did not think to see me again. The kindness of all the people was
really touching, from the Cadi, who made ready my tomb among his own
family, to the poorest fellaheen."

'Such are the tranquil and kindly words with which she prefaces her
death. Those who remember her in her youth and beauty, before disease
rather than time had altered the pale heroic face, and bowed the slight,
stately figure, may well perceive some strange analogy between soul and
body in the Spartan firmness which enabled her to pen that last farewell
so quietly.

'But to the last her thought was for others, and for the services she
could render. In this very letter, written, as it were, on the verge of
the tomb, she speaks with gratitude and gladness of the advancement of
her favourite attendant, Omar. This Omar had been recommended to her by
the janissary of the American Consul-General, and so far back as 1862,
when in Alexandria, she mentions having engaged him, and his hopeful
prophecy of the good her Nile life is to do her. "My cough is bad; but
Omar says I shall lose it and 'eat plenty' as soon as I see a crocodile."