To a Christian Friend, Dorset, Oct. 3, 1873.

I do hope you will be in New York this winter and your mother, too.  What a blessing to have a mother with whom one can hold Christian communion!  You need some trials as a set-off to it.  You say few live up to what light they have; it is true; I think we get light just as fast as we are ready for it.  At the same time I must own that I have not all the light I need.  I am still puzzled as to the true way to live; how far to cherish a spirit that makes one sit very lightly to all earthly things, when that spirit unfits one, to a great extent, to be an agreeable, thoroughly sympathising companion to one’s children, for instance.  My children have a real horror of Miss ——­, because she thinks and talks on only one subject; of course it never would do for me to do as she does, as far as they are concerned.  Perhaps the problem may be solved by a resort to the fact that we are not called to the same experience.  And yet an experience of as perfect love and faith as is ever vouchsafed to a soul on earth, is what I long for.  At times my heart dies within me when I realise how much I need.  As you say, no doubt the mental strain I had been passing through prepared the way for my break-down in health; as I lay, as I thought, dying, I said so to myself.  That strain is over; I am in a sense at rest; but not satisfied.  I have been too near to Christ to be happy in anything else; I don’t mean by that, however, that I never try to be happy in other things—­alas, I do.

As to the minor trials, no life is without them.  But what mercies we get every now and then!  The other day three letters came to me by one mail, each of which was important, and came from exactly the quarter where I was troubled, and dispersed the trouble to a great degree.  In fact I am overwhelmed with mercies, and dreadfully stupid and unthankful for them.  I have had also some experiences of late of the smallness and meanness, of which you have had specimens.  One has to betake oneself to prayer to get a sight of One, who is large-hearted and noble and good and true.  Oh, how narrow human narrowness must look to Him!  I don’t know how many times I have smiled at your remark about Miss ——­:  “She seems to have such a hard time to learn her lessons.”  I feel sorry for her in one sense, but if she belongs to Christ, isn’t He home enough for her?  I think it always a very doubtful experiment to offer other people a home with you; and equally doubtful whether such an offer is wisely accepted.  Being a saint does not, I am sorry to say, necessarily make one an agreeable addition to the family circle as God has formed it; if His hand sends this new element into the house, of course one may expect grace to bear it; but voluntarily to seek it argues either want of experience or an immense power of self-sacrifice.  I should prefer Miss ——­’s friends agreeing to give her an independent home, as far as a boarding-house can furnish a home.  And if it provides a place in which to pray, as sweet a home may be found there as anywhere.