e may meet again to part no more。 If our present positions were reversed； this would please me； could I know of it； and so I trust that this offering of a son’s unalterable gratitude and affection may please her； for after all such things are the most fragrant flowers that we can lay upon the graves of our beloved。 The Protestant Faith seems vaguely to inculcate that we should not pray for the dead。 If so； I differ from the Protestant Faith； who hold that we should not only pray for them but to them； that they will judge our frailties with tenderness and will not forget us who do not forget them。 Even if the message is delivered only after ten thousand years； it will still be a message that most of us would be glad to hear； and if it is never delivered at all； still it will have been sent； and what can man do more？
I know that my mother believed that such efforts are not in vain； for she was filled with a very earnest faith。 After her death； in the drawer of her writing…table were found four lines； feebly inscribed in pencil； which are believed to be the last words she wrote。 They are before me now and I transcribe them：
Lo！ in the shadowy valley here He stands：
？My soul pale sliding down Earth’s icy slope
Descends to meet Him； with beseeching hands
？Trembling with Fear — and yet upraised in Hope。
My mother was married when she was twenty…five years of age； and children came in what ladies nowadays would consider superabundance。 The eldest； my sister Ella； was born in Rome in March 1845； while they were still upon a marriage tour； and subsequently； in quick succession； the others followed。 The last of us； my brother Arthur； appeared in November 1860 — well do I remember my father in a flowered dressing…gown telling us to be quie