mind easy, but must know she never got
it, for she never writ a word in reply. I posted the letter I spoke on
with my own hands. I directed it

WIDDER ALBERT,

London, England.

It runs as follers:

"Dear and revered Queen and Widder:

"I tried my best to git to see you whilst in London, but Josiah's
clothes wuzn't fit; he had frayed 'em out on a tower, and his
shirts wuz yeller as saffern, half washed by underlins. I wouldn't
demean him in your sight by bringin' him with me and he wuz
worrisome and I couldn't leave him. You've been married and you
know how it is.

"So I have to return home sad-hearted without settin' my eyes on
the face of a woman I honor and set store by, a good wife, a good
mother, a good ruler. The world hangs your example up and is
workin' up to the pattern and will in future generations. No doubt
there is a few stitches that might be sot evener in the sampler,
but the hull thing is a honor to our humanity and the world at
large. I bow to your memory as I would to you in deep honor and
esteem. And if we do not meet here below may we meet in them
heavenly fields you and your Albert, Josiah and I, young and
happy, all earthly distinctions washed off in the swellin's of
Jordan.

"And so God bless you clear down to the river banks whose waves
are a swashin' up so clost to our feet, and adoo.

"JOSIAH ALLEN'S WIFE."

I never hearn a word from her, and I am afraid she died thinkin' I had
slighted her.

The next morning bright and early we went aboard the ship that wuz to
take us home. It wuz a fair day; the fog dispersed and the sun shone
out with promise and the waves talked to me of Home, Sweet Home.

It wuz a cold lowerin' day when the good ship bore us into New York
harbor. The gray clouds hung low some as if they wuz a sombry canopy
ready to cover up sunthin', a crime or a grief, or a tomb, or mebby
all on 'em, and a few cold drops fell down from the sky ever and anon,
some like tears, only chill and icy as death.

These thoughts come into my mind onbid as I looked on the heavy pall
of dark clouds that hung low over our heads some like the dark drapery
hangin' over a bier.

But anon and bime bye these dark meditations died away, for what wuz
cloud or cold, or white icy shores? It wuz home that waited for us;
Jonesville and my dear ones dwelt on that shore approachin' us so
fast. Bitter, icy w