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". . . I am enabled to spend a half-hour to-night writing to
you because Joseph Trapnell preached for me, and I am consequently
less fatigued than usual. You will like to know that
the children are all well and that we are comfortably settled.
They arrived yesterday at three o'clock, dusty and tired, and you
can't tell how disappointed I was, what a shock it was to my
whole being, when, on getting to the stage, I discovered you were
not with them. But not a moment did I regret that you stayed,
save that my selfishness shrinks from a protracted separation.
I felt that for you to remain with your papa and the watchers by
him was right, and by all means would I have you discharge
what on such occasions is both a duty and a privilege, in sharing
the cares of the family and soothing the sufferer's pains.

"When the children got here all things were ready. Aunt

Nelly had put the house in order throughout. I had provided
eatables at market in the morning, which Mrs. Norris desired me
to send to her house to be cooked, and thus there was a good
dinner ready, to which the hungry travellers at once paid their
respects. Several kind friends contributed to the meal sundry
niceties.

"You may not have heard of the trouble and expense to
which the party were subjected in consequence of an accident
which disabled the steamboat descending the Potomac on Thursday.
They had to remain at Acquia Creek looking for the boat
until sunset, and then return to Fredericksburg, where they
spent the night.

"And now, my love, about your father. He is very commonly
before my mind in the weariness and distress of his body
and the patient endurance of his spirit, and then prayer is my
resort. God be to him indeed 'a very present help' in all time
of trouble; and when he has endured to the end, may he be
borne to enjoy 'good things' forever with the redeemed in
heaven! . . . We find some interesting things in the yard. A
beautiful rose on the Souvenir de Malmaison, and some others
very pretty.

"Poor Mrs. G—has lost her servant Phil, from a wound
wantonly inflicted with a knife by another boy at the cars on
Monday night. He was never in a state to be conversed with
by me, though I often called for the purpose. I buried him on
Friday. A large and very orderly procession of colored people.
I am going round with a paper to relieve Mrs. G—of part of
the pecuniary loss.

"A letter from Bishop Meade sympathizing with our affliction;
warm from a great and godly heart.

"I shall proceed at once with the children's lessons. It will
help both them and me in the lonely time while you are away.
About the length of your stay. As I wrote in my last, duty in
such a case is very serious and precious. We have but one
father and mother, and it is a great privilege to render them
special honor, more particularly at a season of such trial. Be
governed, then, in your decision by the condition of your father.
If it seem that the Lord is permitting the close of his life to
draw nigh, stay until it is over and your dear papa has entered

upon the bright day of his eternal joy. Give him always my
love, and tell him that the burden of my prayers for him is that
God will cause his sufferings to work for him a far more exceeding
and eternal weight of glory.

". . . You desire to know how we employ our time. We rise
at six and proceed with the primary duties, as you can imagine.
After breakfast all hands spend an hour or so in the yard, then
S—has the little girls in the house with lessons and work,
and I take Sandie in the study. In the afternoon I have them
reading to me for a season, though that is my main time for
being out. After tea I read to them until their bedtime. We
have prayers and they retire, leaving S—and myself to read
and work. I have thought much to-day of darling Lucy. This
day month she passed into the unseen world. How long it
seems! Lord help us to live near Thee, that when we thus
depart our home may be with Thee in Paradise! We got about
two hundred dollars for Mrs. G—. I married a runaway
couple from Virginia in our parlor day before yesterday, and gave
the fee—five dollars—to her. . . .

"Our precious child whom God has taken, how she comes
before my thoughts! None of us have ventured to hint at
opening the piano; it seems to me its sounds will be very painful.
How did she use to sit and play and sing at such time as
this, when, sitting in my chair in the study and employed about
my work, I could enjoy her music! The music fit for heaven,
the Song of the Lamb, is her delight now; Lord, let no murmuring
mingle with our mourning. Give my tenderest love to
your papa and mamma. Tell him I would gladly give up the
chief part of my sleep to be with him through the weary nights;
but he must find his support in an infinitely more faithful attendant
than I could be. As far as I can see it is still your duty to
remain with your parents and to cheer them all in your power,
leaving husband and children to God, and waiting on Him to
show when you can come home.

". . . I was called yesterday to a funeral sixteen or seventeen
miles in the country, to bury a maiden lady sixty-seven years of
age. No service at the house, but the body taken into 'Linganore
Chapel,'—built for an Episcopal church, but now held by the
Methodists,—and there I had the burial service, and preached to

a large and very attentive congregation from St. John xii. 26.
It is truly a great work and an unspeakable privilege to proclaim
the glad tidings of the Gospel to miserable and perishing men.
I returned about one to-day, and found all well. No one with
them last night. S—has no distressing nerves, and has even
proposed to stay, with only the children and servants, and let me
go to Philadelphia the 31st,[1] as Bishop Meade urges, should you
still be detained at 'Rugswamp.' I have not yet determined
whether I shall go if you are still absent. The new church opposite
us[2] begins to look more like the idea of its projectors,—
incongruous enough to my eyes, with round towers and a Dutch
body attached to an Ionic portico. Still, it is a large and striking
building. . . . I am called this morning to marry a couple at
Mechanicstown, some miles beyond Catoctin Furnace. Yours
telling of your papa's improvement and of your expected return
next week has just delighted us. I trust Dr. Tyler's suggestion
may be the true one, and that asthma and not dropsy may be the
difficulty. I trust you may be in the way of duty in returning.
Should any change occur to delay you, do not hesitate to stay
longer. Better disappoint us than violate duty to your parents.
The Lord bless and guide you."

". . . Dr. McGuire and myself are most comfortably fixed in
the hospitable home of Mr. John Worthington, a cousin of Mrs.
Ross. On Friday morning at five we left Cumberland, with a
clear sky and a fresh breeze, after a storm the night before, and
in a delightful coach under our own control. About ten at night
we got to Uniontown. Approaching that place brought up before
me the closing scenes of my dear brother's life there. I thought
perhaps the room I occupied might have been the one in which
went up his last prayer and his departing spirit. At five the next
morning we were off, and took breakfast at Brownsville, twelve
miles farther on. Travelled all day, and soon after dark reached
Wheeling, tired and hungry, having taken no dinner, to avoid
delay. Sunday night, you know, we left Wheeling in the steamboat;
and it was a novel thing to us all to be on board a Western
boat. It is altogether unlike anything on the Eastern waters.
About two hundred passengers were on board. The late rains
had given a good depth of water, and we had a fine, large boat,
the 'Buckeye State.' Monday morning brought us to Marietta,
Tuesday to Maysville, and soon after, the flood, which had been
so considerable above, was found not to have gotten down to this
part of the river, and we several times struck the bottom. At
last, about twelve miles above Cincinnati, we grounded immovably,
and had to wait for hours until enough of the flood arrived
to float us off.

"The opening services began at half-past ten. Nearly all the
bishops—a most imposing sight—and a fair attendance of deputies.
Bishop Smith preached a good sermon,—pretty strong
against the novelties that disturb our peace, and, among other
things, the extravagant 'prerogative' notions of the day. Things
thus far look encouraging. But I count little on man. It is
God's cause, and He will vindicate the right as to Him seems
good, and I desire to be no otherwise concerned about the issue
than to discharge the duty that may be laid on me with the rest.
. . . We have a well-laid plan for combined action on the part of
efficient men for bringing in our memorial on Tuesday. It will
be presented by Judge Bullock, of Kentucky, and seconded by
Dr. Stevens, of Philadelphia, and will be sustained all through
the house by such men as Mr. Williams, Judge Conyngham, of
Pennsylvania, Dr. Vinton, of Boston, Colonel Pendleton, of this

place, etc. But it will be a questionable matter in both houses.
Still, I have a good hope that principles may be set right on the
main questions. I desire that truth and righteousness alone may
be sought and secured by us, and these God can educe from the
effort as to Him may seem good. I shall try to pass a quiet day
to-morrow, and trust grace and peace may rest on us all on the
Lord's day."