TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Wednesday, June 30th, 1855._

MY DEAR MRS. WINTER,

I am truly grieved to hear of your affliction in the loss of your
darling baby. But if you be not, even already, so reconciled to the
parting from that innocent child for a little while, as to bear it
gently and with a softened sorrow, I know that that not unhappy state of
mind must soon arise. The death of infants is a release from so much
chance and change--from so many casualties and distresses--and is a
thing so beautiful in its serenity and peace--that it should not be a
bitterness, even in a mother's heart. The simplest and most affecting
passage in all the noble history of our Great Master, is His
consideration for little children, and in reference to yours, as many
millions of bereaved mothers poor and rich will do in reference to
theirs until the end of time, you may take the comfort of the generous
words, "And He took a child, and set it in the midst of them."

In a book, by one of the greatest English writers, called "A Journey
from this World to the Next," a parent comes to the distant country
beyond the grave, and finds the little girl he had lost so long ago,
engaged in building a bower to receive him in, when his aged steps
should bring him there at last. He is filled with joy to see her, so
young--so bright--so full of promise--and is enraptured to think that
she never was old, wan, tearful, withered. This is always one of the
sources of consolation in the deaths of children. With no effort of the
fancy, with nothing to undo, you will always be able to think of the
pretty creature you have lost, _as a child_ in heaven.

A poor little baby of mine lies in Highgate cemetery--and I laid her
just as you think of laying yours, in the catacombs there, until I made
a resting-place for all of us in the free air.

It is better that I should not come to see you. I feel quite sure of
that, and will think of you instead.

God bless and comfort you! Mrs. Dickens and her sister send their
kindest condolences to yourself and Mr. Winter. I add mine with all my
heart.

Affectionately your friend.

[Sidenote: Mr. Wilkie Collins.]

TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Sunday, 8th July, 1855._

MY DEAR COLLINS,

I don't know whether you may have heard from Webster, or whether the
impression I derived from Mark's manner on Friday may be altogether
correct. But it strongly occurre