Saturday, 6th.—­Well, I have just been to see Mrs. F., and found her a bright, frank young thing, fresh and simple and very pleasing.  Her complexion is like M——­’s, and the lower part of her face is shaped like hers, dark eyebrows, light hair, splendid teeth, and I suppose would be called very pretty by you girls.  Take her altogether I liked her very much.  We hear next to nothing from Stepping Heavenward, and begin to think it is going to fall dead.

Monday, 14th.—­Your Southampton letter has just come and we are delighted to hear that you had such a pleasant voyage, and found so many agreeable people on board....  Yesterday afternoon was devoted to hearing a deeply interesting description from Dr. Hatfield, followed by Mr. Dodge, of the re-union of the two Assemblies at Pittsburgh.  Dr. H. made us all laugh by saying that as the New School entered the church where they were to be received and united to the Old School, the latter rose and sang “Return, ye ransomed sinners, home!” Oh, I don’t know but it was just the other way; it makes no great difference, for as Dr. H. remarked, “we’re all ransomed sinners.”

Nov. 30th.—­Mr. Abbot dined here on Sunday.  He came in again in the evening, and it would have done you good to hear what he said about the children.  They are all well and happy, and give me very little trouble.  I do not feel so well on the late dinner, and have awful dreams.——­I was passing the C——­s, after writing the above, and she called me in to see her new parlors.  They are beautiful; a great deal of bright, rich coloring, and various articles of furniture of his own designing. Thursday.——­You and M. will be shocked to hear that Julia W. died last night.  As Mr. W. was at church on Sunday, we supposed all danger was over.  We heard it through a telegram sent to your father.

December 4, 1869.—­I need not tell you that we all remember that this is your birthday, dear child, and that the remembrance brings you very near.  I wish I could send you, for a birthday present, all that I have, this morning, asked God to give you.  You may depend upon it, that while some people may get along through life at a certain distance from Him, you are not one of that sort.  You may find a feverish joy, but never abiding peace, out of Him.  Remember this whenever you feel the oppression of that vague sense of unrest, of which, I doubt not, you have a great deal underneath a careless outside; this is the thirst of the soul for the only fountain at which it is worth while to drink.  You never will be really happy till Christ becomes your dearest and most intimate friend. 7th.—­We have had a tremendous fall of snow, and Culyer says M. ought to wait an hour before starting for school, but she is not willing and I am going with her to see that she is not buried alive.  Good-bye again, dearie!  Will begin a new letter right away.