I remember hearing old John Cramer say that my mother-in-law could, while hearing a numerous orchestra, single out any instrument which had played a false note--and this he seemed to think a very remarkable and exceptional feat.

She was past fifty when Mr.Garrow married her, but she bore him one daughter, and when they came to Florence both girls, Theodosia, Garrow's daughter, and Harriet Fisher, her elder half-sister, were with them, and at their second morning call both came with them.
The closest union and affection subsisted between the two girls, and ever continued till the untimely death of Harriet.

But never were two sisters, or half-sisters, or indeed any two girls at all, more unlike each other.
Harriet was neither specially clever nor specially pretty, but she was, I think, perhaps the most absolutely unselfish human being I ever knew, and one of the most loving hearts.

And her position was one, that, except in a nature framed of the kindliest clay, and moulded by the rarest perfection of all the gentlest and self-denying virtues, must have soured, or at all events crushed and quenched, the individual placed in such circumstances.

She was simply nobody in the family save the ministering angel in the house to all of them.