Henrietta Bird, whom her sister mourned so deeply, is still remembered with devoted affection in Tobermory, although it is now a quarter of a century since she was called away from the scene of her loving endeavours to bring light into dark homes and comfort to sorrow-stricken hearts. She is still known there as “The Blessed One,” some quality of unruffled peace, whose still radiance shone in her eyes, having evoked from the spontaneous symbolism of Celtic minds this apt description. Her genius was moral rather than intellectual. Less complex of character, less powerful mentally, less courageous physically, than her gifted sister, she excelled her in spiritual attainment, in the dignity of steadfast faith, the serenity of a soul ennobled by constant dwelling in the presence of the Most High. She lived in a world apart; a retreat from which only duty summoned her. Her parents employed and bounded her activities while they lived, and her devotion to both is a revelation of filial affection. Perhaps her mother was dearest to her; she clung to her in childhood, and learnt almost everything from her in girlhood, for Mrs. Bird had maintained her resolution to teach her sensitive little ones herself, and studied history, literature, and popular science in so thorough a fashion for the task that both children were convinced that no one in the world was so clever as their mother.