h grace. Do cheer and comfort yourself with these thoughts, my
dearest Anna, and your sick-room will be the happiest room in your
house, as I constantly pray it may be! Your ever affectionate Lizzy.

_To Miss E.A.W., New York, Nov. 17, 1868_

You ask how I sleep. I always sleep better at home than elsewhere; this
is one great reason why we decided to have a home all the year round. I
have to walk four or five miles a day, which takes a good deal of time,
these short days, but there is no help for it. I do not think the time
is lost when I am out of doors; I suppose Christ may go with us, _does_
go with us, wherever we go. But I am too eager and vehement, too anxious
to be working all the time. Why, no, I don't think it _wrong_ to want to
be at work provided God gives us strength for work; the great thing is
not to repine when He disables us. I don't think, my dear, that you need
trouble yourself about my dying at present; it is not at all likely that
I shall. I feel as if I had got to be _tested_ yet; this sweet peace, of
which I have so much, almost startles me. I keep asking myself whether
it is not a stupendous delusion of Satan and my own wicked heart. How I
wish I could see you to-night! There is so much one does not like to put
on paper that one would love to say.

_Thursday, 4 P.M._--Well, my lunch-party is over, and my sewing society
is re-organised, and before I go forth to tea, let me finish and
send off this epistle. We had the Rev. Mr. and Mrs. Washburn, of
Constantinople, Dr. Chickering, and Prof, and Mrs. Smith; gave them cold
turkey, cold ham, cold ice-cream and hot coffee; that was about all, for
society in New York is just about reduced down to eating and drinking
together, after which you go about your business.

I am re-reading Leighton on 1st Peter; I wonder if you like it as much
as my John and I do! I hope your murderous book goes on well; then you
can take your rest next summer. Now I must get ready for my long walk
down and over to Ninth st., to see a tiny little woman, and English at
that. Her prayer at our meeting yesterday moved us all to tears.

_To Miss Eliza A. Warner, New York, Nov. 25, 1868_

Mr. Prentiss complained yesterday that no letters came, an unheard-of
event in our family history, and this morning found _twelve_ sticking in
the top of the box; among them was yours, but I was just going off to my
Prayer-meeting, and had to put it into my pocket and let it go too. I
am glad yo