MARY CARPENTER. 107 



sympathised with and helped her husband in his public 

 work, and when he was taken away she had sym- 

 pathised with and encouraged her daughter. During 

 the last months of her life, when health had begun to 

 fail, and she was obliged to be considered an invalid, 

 she had always been ready to listen with eager in- 

 terest to the story of the day's work, pleased if things 

 had gone well, and sad if there had been disappoint- 

 ment Earnest workers, and especially philanthropic 

 workers, are generally very dependent on sympathy 

 of this sort. It is very hard to keep on day after day 

 alone. The thought that there is some one who will 

 rejoice when we rejoice, and sorrow when we sorrow, 

 is encouraging, and sometimes it seems as if those 

 who do nothing but approve and sympathise help 

 almost as much as those who toil and strive. Yet 

 none but those who have once had this perfect sym- 

 pathy can understand what it must be to lose it. 



The loss was specially felt by Mary Carpenter, 

 because she was the sort of person who was so occu- 

 pied with the large needs of the community that she 

 forgot her own small needs ; so that without her 

 mother she felt almost lost. In writing to her brother 

 a few weeks after her mother's death, she said, " Now 

 that I contrast more the daily life with what it used 

 to be with my beloved mother in the drawing-room, 

 always ready to welcome and to sympathise, to be 

 cared for and to care, and feeling that I could con- 

 duce to her happiness, and was sure of her loving 



