382 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. 



and kind wishes therein contained. In return, pray accept all our 

 united and most cordial wishes, which are offered in all sincerity and 

 affection to yourself and all our well-beloved friends at Penny Bridge, 

 that you may enjoy many, many happy returns of this blessed season. 

 Your affectionate sister, J. Wilson." 



My mother's illness was not at first of a nature to alarm the family ; 

 but my father was always nervous about her, when any thing more 

 than usual disturbed her health ; she had been for some years deli- 

 cate, and took less exercise than was perhaps for her good. We 

 thought that the little tour, made in the autumn of 1836, had been 

 very beneficial, and hoped that this would in future tempt her to 

 move more frequently from home. About the middle of March, lit- 

 tle more than two months after sending an affectionate greeting at 

 the beginning of a new year to the beloved friends at Penny Bridge, 

 she was taken ill with a feverish cold, which, after a few days, turned 

 to a malady beyond the aid of human skill. Water on the chest was 

 the ultimate cause of her death, which sad event took place on the 

 29th of March, and was communicated to her sister Mary in the fol- 

 lowing touching letter by a relative, who could well understand the 

 irreparable loss that had befallen husband and children by the pass- 

 ing away of this gentle spirit : — 



" My letter, written last night, will have prepared you to hear 

 that our worst fears have been confirmed ; our dearest Jane expired 

 last night at half-past twelve o'clock. Immediately after writing to 

 you, I went, along with my husband, to Glo'ster Place, trusting 

 that she might once more know me. She had been sleeping heavily 

 for two or three hours, but when I went into her room, she was 

 breathing softer though shorter, and a kind of hope seized upon 

 me. The physician had ordered a cordial to be given her every 

 hour; for this purpose it was necessary to rouse her from her 

 sleep, and it was at this time a trial was to be made whether she 

 would know me; how anxiously I hoped to exchange one kind 

 look with her, to kiss her again, but it was not God's will it should 

 be so. Her husband was just going to raise her head, that he might 

 enable her to taste the draught, when she breathed three sighs, with 

 short intervals, and all was over before we who were around her 

 bed could believe it possible that her spirit had fled. We were 

 stunned with the unexpected stroke, for none of us had anticipated 



