,
whether simply as the loftiest impersonation of wisdom and goodness, or
as having a commission and power to save beyond that and different from
it,--one may not be sure. But of this I am sure, that he who takes upon
his heart the living impression of that divinest life and love is saved
in the noblest sense. And I do not see but there is as much of this
salvation in those young men as in those who repel and rebuke them.

There! let that sheet go by itself. Alas! the question with me is not
which of them is right, but whether I am right,--and that in something
far more vital than opinion. It does seem as if one who has lived as
long as I have, ought to have overcome all his spiritual foes; but I do
not find it so. I feel sometimes as if I were only struggling harder and
harder with all the trying questions, both speculative and spiritual,
that press upon our mortal frame and fate.

To Miss Catherine ill Sedgwick.

SHEFFIELD, Dec. 31, 1865.

. . . I AM talking of myself, when I am thinking more of you, and how
it is with you in these winter days, the [283] last of the year. I hope
that they do not find you oppressed with weakness or suffering; and if
they do not, I am sure that your spirit is alert and happy, and that the
bright snow-fields and the lovely meteor of beauty that hangs in the air
in such a morning as this was, are as charming to you as they ever were.
It is-a delight to your friends to know that all things lovely are,
if possible, more lovely to you than ever. Are there not bright rays
shining through our souls,--streaming from the Infinite Light,--that
make us feel that they are made to grow brighter and brighter forever?
Ah! our confidence in immortality must be this feeling, and never a
thing to be reasoned out by any logical processes.

Jan. 1, 1866. I have stepped, you see, from the old year to the new.
I wish all the good wishes to you, and take them from you in return as
surely as if you uttered them.

This year is to be momentous to us, if for no other reason, that K. is
to be married. And we are to be no more together much, perhaps, in this
world. It is an inconceivable wrench in my existence. This marrying
is the cruellest thing; and it is a perfect wonder and mystery of
Providence that parents give in to it as they do.

To Rev. Henry W Bellows, D.D.

SHEFFIELD, Feb. 20, 666.

MY DEAR FRIEND,--I wonder if you can understand how happy I am in my
nook,--you who have so much of another so