higher love born of tribulation. Just as far as a heavenly
is superior even to maternal love, will be the elevation and beauty of
your new joy; a joy worth all it costs. I know what sorrow means; I know
it well. But I know, too, what it is to pass out of that prison-house
into a peace that passes all understanding; and thousands can say the
same. So, my dear suffering sister, look on and look up; lay hold on
Christ with _both your poor, empty hands_; let Him do with you what
seemeth Him good; though He slay you, still trust in Him; and I dare in
His name to promise you a sweeter, better life than you could have
known had He left you to drink of the full, dangerous cups of unmingled
prosperity. I feel such real and living sympathy with you, that I would
love to spend weeks by your side, trying to bind up your broken heart.
But for the gospel of Christ, to hear of such bereavements as yours
would appall, would madden one. Yet, what a halo surrounds that word
"but"!

_To Miss E. A. Warner, New York, Dec 14, 1870._

I have not behaved according to my wont, and visited the sick even by
way of a letter. And by this time I hope you are quite well again, and
do not need ghostly counsels.... I have felt very badly about Miss
Lyman's dying at Vassar, but since Mrs. S.'s visit and learning how
beloved she is there, have changed my mind. What does it matter, after
all, from what point of time or space we go home; how we shall smile,
after we get there, that we ever gave it one moment's thought! You ask
what I am doing; well, I am taking a vacation and not writing anything
to speak of, yet just as busy as ever; not one moment in which to
dawdle, though I dare say I seem to the folks here at home to be sitting
round doing nothing. I must give you a picture of one day and you must
photograph one of yours, as we have done before. Got up at seven and
went through the usual forms; had prayers and breakfast, and started off
to school with M. Came home and had a nice quiet time reading, etc.;
at eleven went to my meeting, which was a tearful one, as one of our
members who knelt with us only a week before, was this day to be buried
out of our sight. She was at church on Sunday afternoon at four P.M., to
present her baby in baptism, and at half-past two the following morning
was in heaven. We all went together to the funeral after the meeting,
and gathered round the coffin with the feeling that she belonged to us.
When I got home I found a