The pages of this little book were in type and about to be sent for correction to my sister—who had been for some months in very delicate health—when she suddenly became still more gravely...

The pages of this little book were in type and about to be sent for correction to my sister—who had been for some months in very delicate health—when she suddenly became still more gravely ill.  The hand which had traced the words of love and veneration dedicated to our father’s memory grew too feeble to hold a pen, and before the proofs of her little volume could be submitted to her for revision, my dear sister died.