ive youth of
me, their instructress,--in my impotence to serve them and my
passionate desire to do so,--that I could hardly command my voice. The
composition of our service was about as liberal as was ever compounded
by any preacher or teacher of any Christian sect, I verily believe: it
was selected from the English book of Common Prayer, a Presbyterian
collection of Prayers, the "Imitation of Jesus Christ," which excellent
Roman Catholic book of devotion I borrowed from Margery, and the Blessed
Bible--the fountain from which have flowed all these streams for the
refreshment of human souls. From these I compiled a short service,
dismissing my congregation without a sermon, having none with me fit for
their comprehension, and lacking courage to extemporize one, though
vehemently moved by the spirit to do so. I think on Sunday next I will
write one especially for their edification.

After this I went with S---- and Margery, and baby in her little wicker
carriage, accompanied by a long procession of negro children, to explore
the woods near the house: not without manifest misgivings on the part of
my dusky escort, whose terror of rattlesnakes is greater even than my
terrified imagination about them. My greatest anxiety was to keep S----
from marching in the van and preceding us all in these reptiline
discoveries.... _Way_, in the proper sense of the term, there was none;
for the expedition was chiefly for the purpose of observing where paths
could be cleared with best advantage through this charming wilderness.
To crown the doings of the day, I have written you this long letter, the
fifth I date to you from Georgia.

Ever most affectionately yours,
F. A. B.

NEW YORK, April 30th, 1839.
MY DEAR LADY DACRE,

How much I wish I could but look into your face, but hold your hand, or
embrace you! How much I wish I were near you, that I might silently as
alone benefits such occasions, express to you my sympathy for your
sorrow....

The news of your loss was the greater shock to me that I had just
written a letter, introducing to you a dear friend of mine, Miss
Sedgwick, now about visiting England, and bespeaking your kindness and
good-will for her. This lady will still be the bearer of this (a most
different epistle from the one I had prepared) and a little fan made of
the feathers of o