To return to the history of the College: in February 1892 it had to sustain a loss which was hardly less a blow from having come in the ordinary course of nature. Miss Clough was 72 years old in the January of that year. She had to most people looked about the same age for many years, as her hair had whitened early, and the vivid look in her eyes never suggested old age. The portrait of her by Shannon, painted in 1890, gives a better impression of her than Richmond's portrait of 1882.[8] The latter shows, perhaps, more strength, the former more sweetness. But neither can possibly give an adequate interpretation to a face so speaking and changeful. Shannon's is a sympathetic study of calm, benevolent, but alert old age, suggestive of ripe experience and of a patient outlook on life. It hangs in the College Hall with the portraits of Prof. and Mrs. Sidgwick and Miss Kennedy, all of them pleasing and profitable reminders to the students, at their meals, debates, and dancing, of the character as well as the appearance of those to whom they owe their present happy opportunities.
[Footnote 8: Now hanging in the Old Hall Library. The expression is stern, and it was caricatured in _Punch_ as "The very ready letter-writer; won't I give it him?" She remarked to a former student that she wished she could have had some young friends to talk to whilst it was being painted. "But didn't the artist talk to you, Miss Clough?" "Yes, on subjects as to which we did not agree."]
During the later part of her life Miss Clough had been obliged to let some of her work be lightened, and to give the management of Clough Hall to Miss Katharine Stephen, who had formerly been Miss Gladstone's secretary; but she still kept an eye on everything that happened in the College, and many things far beyond. Miss Clough had always felt a deep interest in the colonies, and she kept up a correspondence with past students who had made educational ventures in many distant parts. As one of them said, "her interest in us seemed to vary directly as the squares of the distances," though certainly those nearer to Cambridge would not have accepted such a formula. Such schemes as the mixed education for blacks and whites in Jamaica, the starting of a loan library in tropical Australia, the opening of a boarding-school for aristocratic girls in Siam, aroused her warm interest and often called forth wholesome advice as well as sympathy. She was always able to enjoy a quiet country holiday in vacation time. The pleasures of friendship brought her comfort and enjoyment all her life, during the latter part of which she had the companionship of her niece--daughter of the brother to whom she had owed so much in her early intellectual development--and much care and solicitude from some of the lecturers and of the elder students. She may be said to have died in harness. The last time that she appeared at a meeting for students was to interest them in Mr. Morant's educational efforts in Siam. One of the last visitors from abroad whom she received, lying on a sitting-room couch, was a lady from Australia who could bring tidings of a University hostel managed by a former student. Miss Clough was not sure that this student was working on the best lines, and was anxious to hear about her and to send her a message of kindly warning.