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 overworking herself, and that her studies were too much for her. He, therefore, insisted on her giving up her Sanskrit, which she did most reluctantly, for it was her favourite study, and doubly dear to her because in it her father was her companion and her instructor. For a few weeks it seemed as though rest were doing her good, but before long it became only too evident that the insidious disease which had carried off her sister had already seized her in its fatal grasp. As her bodily strength declined her mind seemed to gain in activity; her longing to write became more and more feverish. The more she realised that her life could be but a short one, the more eager did she become to achieve some literary success.

About a year before her death she became acquainted with a book which struck her much. It was La Femme dans VInde Ancienne, by Mdlle. Clarisse Bader, and she instantly conceived a strong desire to translate it. She wrote to the authoress, asking her permission to do so, sending her at the same time a copy of her "Sheaf." In her letter she described herself as "une femme de l'Inde moderne."

To this Mdlle. Bader replied promptly: "Eh quoi? C'est une descendante de mes cheres heroines indiennes, qui desire traduire le livre que j'ai consacre aux antiques Aryennes de la presqu'ile gangetique! Un