How much faith and patience we poor invalids do need!  The burden of life sits hard on our weary shoulders.  I think the mountain air has agreed with our children better than the seaside has done, but George craves the ocean and the bathing.  He spent this forenoon, as he has a good many others, in climbing the side of the mountain for exercise, views, and blackberries.  I go with him sometimes.  We had a few days’ visit from Prof.  Hopkins.  He has heard confirmation of the rumors of poor Eddy’s death and burial.  He means to go to Ashland as soon as the state of the country makes it practicable, but has little hope of identifying E.’s remains.  It is a great sorrow to him to lose all he had in this horrible way, but he bears it with wonderful faith and patience, and says he never prayed for his son’s life after he went into action.  Some letters received by him, give a pleasant idea of the Christian stand E. took after entering the army.  I believe this is Lizzie P——­’s wedding day.  There is a beautiful rainbow smiling on it from our mountain home, and I hope a real one is glorifying hers.

To Miss Gilman, Hunter, Sept. 17.

Oh, I wish you were here on this glorious day!  The foliage has begun to turn a little, and the mountains are in a state bordering on perfection.  It is wicked for me stay in-doors even to write this, but it seems as if a letter from here would carry with it a savor of mountain air, and must do you more good than one from the city could.  I wish I had thought sooner to ask you if you would like some of our mosses.  I thought I had seen mosses before, but found I had not.  I will enclose some dried specimens.  I thought, while I was in the woods this morning, that I never had thanked God half enough for making these lovely things and giving us tastes wherewith to enjoy them.

You ask if I have spilled ink all down the side of this white house.  Yes, I have, wo be unto me.  I was sick abed and got up to write to Mr. P., not wanting him to know I was sick, and one of the children came in and I snatched him up in my lap to hug and kiss a little, and he, of course, hit the pen and upset the inkstand and burst out crying at my dismay.  Then might have been seen a headachy woman catching the apoplexy by leaning out of the window and scrubbing paint, sacrificing all her nice rags in the process, and dreadfully mortified into the bargain....  Yesterday we were all caught in a pouring rain when several miles from home on the side of the mountain, blackberrying.  We each took a child and came rolling and tearing down through the bushes and over stones, H.’s little legs flying as little legs rarely fly.  We nearly died with laughing, and if I only knew how to draw, I could make you laugh by giving you a picture of the scene.  You will judge from this that we are all great walkers; so we are.  I take the children almost everywhere, and they walk miles every day.  Well, I will go now and get you some scraps of pressed mosses.