sorrow_ is the most fearful experience life can bring, I feel this
so strongly that I could go on writing all day. It has been said that
the intent of sorrow is to "toss us on to God's promises." Alas, these
waves too often toss us away out to sea, where neither sun or stars
appear for many days. I pray, earnestly, that it may not be so with you.

Among Mrs. Prentiss' most beloved and honored friends in New York was
the Rev. Dr. Thomas H. Skinner, the first pastor of the Mercer street
church, and then, for nearly a quarter of a century, Professor in the
Union Theological Seminary. His attachment to her, as also that of his
family, was very strong. Dr. Skinner had been among the leaders of
the so-called New School branch of the Presbyterian Church. He was a
preacher of great spiritual power, an able, large-hearted theologian,
and a man of most attractive personal and social qualities. He was
artless as a little child, full of enthusiasm for the best things, and
a pattern of saintly goodness. It used to be said that every stone and
rafter in the Church of the Covenant had felt the touch of his prayers.
This venerable servant of God entered into his rest on the 1st of
February, 1871, in the 80th year of his age. In a letter to her cousin,
Rev. George S. Payson, Mrs. Prentiss thus refers to his last hours:

You will hear at dear Dr. Skinner's funeral to-morrow his dying
testimony, and I want you to know that it was whispered in my enraptured
ear, that I was privileged to spend the whole of Tuesday and all he
lived of Wednesday, at his side, and that mine were the hands that
closed his eyes and composed his features in death. What blissful
moments were mine, as I saw his sainted soul fly home; how near heaven
seemed and still seems!

_To Miss E. S. Gilman, New York, Feb. 7, 1871._

I am glad to hear that you have such an interesting class, and yet more
glad that you see how much Christian culture they need. I am astonished
every day by confessions made to me by young people as to their woful
state before God, and do hope that all this is to prepare me to write
something for them. I began a series of articles in the Association
Monthly, called "Twilight Talks," which may perhaps prove to be in
a degree what you want, but still there is much land untraversed.
Meanwhile I want to encourage you in your work, by letting you feel my
deep sympathy with you in it, and to assure you that nothing will be so
blessed to your scholar