cheerless just now, but I hope it will brighten when you come. My best love to all.

'Ever your affectionate brother,

'F. T. MCDOUGALL, Bishop.'

On December 5 Mrs. McDougall writes to her sister: 'Frank has now been ill for three weeks with an attack of bronchitis. It would have yielded before now, but he would go to Farnham for some committees, and last Sunday he would hold the Intercession Service for Foreign Missions himself-consequently the left lung became congested and he has had to lie in bed; now I hope that he will give himself a fortnight's complete rest. He has an excellent curate and kind neighbours, and need not kill himself, but you know how Idifficult it is for him to think himself disabled.' In this month her brother became alarmed at the accounts which he received from her, and with his eldest daughter came to them. on the 23rd to spend Christmas. He found the Bishop in a very shaken and suffering condition, struggling to take his part in the services although unfit to do so, flashing up with surprising vigour in the pulpit and at the altar, but beyond the services in church incapable of exerting himself. Mrs. McDougall was looking very frail, and, with a very weak chest and heart, apparently unequal to withstanding any shock or sudden exertion.

For the week following Christmas Day their daughters had got up a little entertainment in the schoolroom of animated waxworks, and acted nursery rhymes and recitations, in which the children of the neighbours were the actors, and the whole parish, gentle and simple, were present, delighted with the novelty and to see and admire their own children, who were wonderfully clever and handsome; but the Bishop and his wife were only able to send their good wishes, and a substitute to represent him. Their absence was regretted by all, for their goodwill seemed fully appreciated, and on their

side their feelings were expressed in a letter written some days before by Mrs. McDougall, in which she said, 'We like our parishioners increasingly-nice, friendly, and gentle people;' but she did not add what seemed clear to a stranger and was much appreciated by their vicar, that they were also shrewd and independent, and with their interest centred in the island, all other folk-Englishmen, Scotchmen, and Irishmen, to say nothing of the Gentiles beyond-bearing the expressive title in their local vernacular of 'Overends.' Two years before, she had written respecting a similar entertainment: 'It was all amusing enough, but a great deal of trouble and fatigue. Now Lent will put an end to all such efforts. I love Lent. No visiting or public entertainments. only too soon over.'

It is

In the month of January following there was no improvement in his health, but an event occurred of family interest, and Mrs. McDougall wrote to her friend, Mrs. Tooke, at Monkton Farleigh, mentioning both subjects:

'My dearest Fanny,-Thank you for your dear, kind letter. I know that you and dear Hammond always take a loving interest in our affairs, and can rejoice and sorrow with us when we are sad or merry. As we grow older these two states seem to come more frequently closely together. As the family enlarges, so many causes for anxiety arise, and one is so much more inclined to fear than to hope. At the same time I think that we are more able to trust; after a long life of mercies received, it would, indeed, be terrible if it were not so. I believe that's engagement will be a real addition to the happiness of the family. We like him so much, that I say that we have all accepted him.

'My anxiety just now is my husband's, health. It is quite broken down apparently, and it is a great trial to a man so naturally active to be so disabled. He has been quite unable to go to Winchester lately for business, which requires

his presence-Chapter to-morrow, but no Frank. He is very patient and good, but much depressed with pain and want of health. I cannot imagine that it can be this place, which is very healthy, but he has been ill ever since we came here. Charles was grieved to see how ill.'

At the end of the month they went to Ventnor, principally to be under the medical care of Dr. Coghill, the physician of the Consumptive Hospital, who was unremitting in his attention to them both, and benefited his patients much by his great experience and skill in the treatment of Indian and chest disorders.

On February 16 she wrote to her sister at Natal. She had heard of an attack of typhoid fever which had visited her nephew's (Dr. Colenso's) household at Durban, and wanted to hear all the particulars and the probable cause of the illness, 'which her nephew would doubtless discover.' It was not hard to find, for the wise men of Durban had established waterworks before drainage, and the hill was saturated. She urged that the convalescents should return home for the complete restoration of their health, and sends their Winchester news. One of our canons has been made prolocutor of Convocation. He is a very handsome, fine-looking man, and a suitable person too, for he is peace-loving and sensible. Our Dean is clearing out the Cathedral churchyard, which was in sad disorder, and making it a smooth lawn like Salisbury; also he is clearing the crypt of rubbish and masonry, and every now and then he finds an old stone coffin of some ancient worthy, whereat his antiquarian soul rejoices.' And she adds: 'Charles writes to us to-day, and I wish him a happy birthday. I always keep his birthday; it was my Harry's christening day, forty years ago.'

On March 15 she wrote again: We are still at Ventnor waiting for Frank to go home to Shorwell Vicarage. He might possibly manage the drive on a sunny day, but it is so

much colder at home than here, that I dare not let him go until his cough is much better;' and she speaks of the inveteracy of that cough, and the oppression that it was upon her as well as upon him. On the 11th he had written: 'My cough is still troublesome, but the dropsical symptoms are bettering. I want much to get home, but the doctor says. “No, and work must be eschewed;" so altogether I am a helpless, useless bit of goods. The weather is beautifully bright, but very cold, snow still lying close by the sea. Watching the sea and the ships is my amusement.'

On the 23rd his doctor allowed him to leave Ventnor, but,. as he notes in his pocket-book, 'still very weak and unable to do duty; and, as Mrs. McDougall mentioned in a letter the next day, also to her brother, ' In paying his parting visit, Dr. Coghill entreated him to do no work for a time. He said, "Remember that you have had a very severe illness; there was a time when I scarcely expected that you would ever leave this. house.""

After his return to Shorwell he seemed gradually to revive, and on April 4, as he notes, celebrated the Holy Eucharist for the first time for nine weeks, and on the 11th preached, and continued to do so for the remainder of the month, and was able to hold two confirmations. At the end of his long. illness his wife was sadly worn with anxiety and nursing, but as he recovered she also seemed to get better, and was able to plan a visit to her brother in London for the first week in May, where her husband was afterwards to join her. They also fixed June 17 for the marriage of their eldest daughter at Shorwell, with Dr. Frank Turner, for which preparations had to be made. Brighter days were therefore hoped for, but on the Sunday before she was to have left home, while sitting in a summer-house in their garden after morning church, she caught a chill which flew to her lungs, and she became seriously ill. Still no danger was thought of, and at the worst it was only supposed that her visit to London was

postponed; but although carefully nursed, and with the best medical advice which the island afforded, her strength suddenly failed, and she passed away for ever.

The event took place on Friday, May 7, after post-time, for a letter reached her brother the next morning sounding no note of alarm, but within a couple of hours he received the sad news through Dr. Turner, to whom a telegram had been sent with a charge to announce the calamity to him. He instantly left for Shorwell, and arrived there that afternoon. It appeared that in the morning she had been moved into another room, complaining of want of air and breathlessness, and had been very quiet and drowsy through the day. Her daughters had left her at seven o'clock asleep, and with a maidservant watching her. Her husband had also come into the room, and at the sound of his well-known footstep she had opened her eyes and smiled, but had not spoken. No thought of immediate danger, therefore, occurred to them, but what followed will be best told in a letter written by him the next day to his friend, Mr. Beresford Hope:

'My very dear Hope,-You will, I know, feel for and sympathise with me, when in one sad word I say my darling wife has been taken from me. She was ill of bronchitis and she departed in her sleep between 7 and 8 P.M. peacefully, without a struggle or a sigh. Mab and Mildred went to relieve the maid who was with her, and, thinking their mother very still and her hand cold, sent for me, and I, alas! found that she had gone to her rest with God's blessed ones, and had not said good-bye to any of us. The maid went to her when we came down to dinner and had observed nothing. It is unspeakably sad for us; but she is blessed, most blessed, I feel sure, with your own loved one, and all who like her and Harriette have fought their good fight, and now await their crown. My life is broken now-it is but a feeble one,