tian woman, whom
I had not seen for eighteen years. She said that some time ago her
attention was called to the subject of personal holiness, and as she
is a great reader, she devoured everything she could get hold of, and
finally became a dogmatic perfectionist. But experience modified these
views, and she fell back on the Bible doctrine of an indwelling Christ,
with the conviction that just in proportion to this indwelling will be
the holiness of the soul. This is precisely my own belief. This is
the doctrine I preached in Stepping Heavenward and I have so far seen
nothing to change these views, while I desire and pray to be taught any
other truth if I am wrong. I believe God does reveal Himself and His
truth to those who are willing to know it.

_To Miss Morse, New York, May 31, 1872._

I got home yesterday from Williamstown, where I went, with my husband,
to attend the funeral of my dearly beloved brother, Professor Hopkins.
He literally starved to death. He died as he had lived, beautifully,
thinking of and sending messages to all his friends, and on his last day
repeating passages of Scripture and even, weak as he was, joining in
hymns sung at his bedside. The day of the funeral was a pretty trying
one for me, as there was not only his loss to mourn, but there were
traces of my darling mother and sister, who both died in that house, all
over it; some of my mother's silver, a white quilt she made when a
girl, my sister's library, her collection of shells and minerals, her
paintings, her little conservatory, the portrait of her only child,
dressed in his uniform (he was killed in one of the battles of the
Wilderness). Then, owing to the rain, none of us ladies were allowed to
go into the cemetery, and I had thought much of visiting my sister's
grave and seeing her boy lying on one side and her husband on the other.
But our disappointments are as carefully planned for us as our sorrows,
so I have not a word to say.

After services at the house, we walked to the church, which we entered
through a double file of uncovered students. One of the most touching
things about the service was the sight of four students standing in
charge of the remains, two at the head and two at the foot of the
coffin. His poor folks came in crowds, with their hands full of flowers
to be cast into his grave. My brother said he never saw so many men
shed tears at a funeral, and I am sure I never did; some sobbing as
convulsively as women. I