To a young Friend abroad—­New York, Dec. 8, 1871.

There never will come a time in my life when I shall not need all my Christian friends can do for me in the way of prayer.  I am glad you are making such special effort to oppose the icebergs of foreign life; God will meet and bless you in it.  Let us, if need be, forsake all others to cleave only unto Him.  I don’t know of any real misery except coldness between myself and Him.

I feel warm and tender sympathy with you in all your struggles, temptations, joys, hopes and fears.  As you grow older you will settle more; your troubles, your ups and downs, belong chiefly to your youth.  Yes, you are right in saying that Mr. P——­ could go through mental conflicts in silence; he does not pine for sympathy as you and I do.  You and I are like David, though I forget, at the moment, what he said happened to him when he “kept silence.” (On the whole, I don’t think he said anything!)

I think the proper attitude to take when restless and lonesome and homesick for want of God’s sensible presence, is just what we take when we are missing earthly friends for whom we yearn, and whose letters, though better than nothing, do not half feed our hungry hearts, or fill our longing arms.  And that attitude is patient waiting.  We are such many-sided creatures that I do not doubt you are getting pleasure and profit out of this European trip, although it is alloyed by so much mental suffering.  But such is life.  It has in it nothing perfect, nothing ideal.  And this conviction, deepened every now and then by some new experience, tosses me anew, again and again, back on to that Rock of Ages that ever stands sure and steadfast, and on whom our feet may rest.  It is well to have the waves and billows of temptation beat upon us; if only to magnify this Rock and teach us what a refuge He is.

I went, last night, with Mr. Prentiss and most of the children, to hear the freedmen and women in a concert at Steinway Hall.  It was packed with a brilliant, delighted audience, and it was most interesting to see these young people, simple, dignified, earnest, full of love to Christ, and preparing, by education, to work for Him.  They sang “Keep me from sinking down” most sweetly and touchingly.  I see you have the blues as I used to do, at your age, and hope you will outgrow them as I have done.  I suffer without being depressed in the sense in which I used to be; it is hard to make the distinction, but I am sure there is one.  I do not know how far this change has come to me as a happy wife and mother, or how far it is religious.

Aunt Jane’s Hero was published in 1871.  It is hardly inferior to Stepping Heavenward in its pictures of life and character, or in the wisdom of its teaching.  The object of the book is to depict a home whose happiness flows from the living Rock, Christ Jesus.  It protests also against the extravagance and other evils of the times, which tend to check the growth of such homes, and aims to show that there are still treasures of love and peace on earth, that may be bought without money and without price.