to us by intuition in heaven, though knowledge enough to get started
there, will. But I don't much care how it will be. I know we shall learn
Christ there. I have read lately Prof. Phelps on the Solitude of Christ;
it is a suggestive little book which I like much. Have you ever read the
Life of Mrs. Hawkes? It is interesting because she records so many
of Cecil's wonderful remarks--such, e.g., as these: "a humble, kind
silence often utters much." "To-morrow you and I shall walk together in
a garden, when I hope to talk with you about everything but sadness." I
am going to ask a favor of you, though I hate to put you to the trouble.
In writing a telegram in great haste and sorrow, I accidentally used and
cut into the lines you copied for me--Sabbath hymn in sickness. It was a
real loss, and if you ever feel a little stronger than usual, will you
make me another copy? I so often want to comfort sick persons with it.

I have half promised to write a serial for a magazine, the organ of the
Young Men's Christian Association, though I know nothing of young men
and hate to write serials. I wish I could hide in some hole. I get
bright letters from A., who is having a very nice time. I write her
every day; wretched letters, which she thinks delightful, fortunately.
We have a quiet time this winter, but such nice things can't last, and I
am afraid of this world anyhow. I know you pray for me, as I do for you
and Miss L. every day. I have a thousand things to say that I shall have
to put off till I see you. Good-bye, dearie.

_To Mrs. Condict, Sunday, March 6, 1870._

I have had some really sweet days, shut up with my dear little boy. He
is better, and I am comparatively at leisure again, and so happy in
meditating on the character of my Saviour, and in the sense of His
nearness, that I _ache_, and have had to beg Him to give me no more,
but to carry this joy to you and to Miss K. and to two friends, who,
languishing on dying beds, need it so much. [2] If I could shed tears I
should not have to tell you this, and indeed it is nothing new; but one
must have vent in some way. And this reminds me to explain to you why
to three dear Christian friends I now and then send verses; they are my
tears of joy or sorrow, and when I feel most deeply it is a relief to
versify, and a pleasure to open my heart to those who feel as I do. I
have been in print ever since I was sixteen years old, and admiration
is an old story; I care very little f