We have my eldest brother here and he is a perfect enthusiast about Dorset, and has enjoyed his visit immensely.  He said yesterday that he had laughed more that afternoon than in the previous ten years.  We expect Dr. Stearns and his daughter on the 20th, and when they leave Mr. P. intends to go to Maine and try a change of air and scene.  I hate to have him go; his trouble of last year keeps me uneasy, if he is long out of my sight.

To the Same, Dorset, Aug., 1875.

I have just written a letter to my husband, from whom I have been separated a whole day.  He has gone to Maine, partly to see friends, partly to get a little sea air.  He wanted me to go with him, but it would have ended in my getting down sick.  This summer I am encompassed with relatives; two of my brothers, a nephew, a cousin, a second cousin, and in a day or two one brother’s wife and child, and two more second cousins are to come; not to our house, but to board next door.  There is a troop of artists swarming the tavern; all ladies, some of them very congenial, cultivated, excellent persons.  They are all delighted with Dorset, and it is pleasant to stumble on little groups of them at their work.  A. has been out sketching with them and succeeds very well.  I have given up painting landscapes and taken to flowers.  I have just had a visit here in my room from three humming-birds.  They are attracted by the flowers...  One of the cousins is just now riding on the lawn.  Her splendid hair has come down and covers her shoulders; and with her color, always lovely, heightened by exercise and pleasure, she makes a beautiful picture.  What is nicer than an unsophisticated young girl?  I have no time for reading this summer among the crowd; but one can not help thinking wherever one is, and I have come to this conclusion:  happiness in its strictest sense is found only in Christ; at the same time there are many sources of enjoyment independently of Him.  It is getting dark and I can not see my lines.  I am more and more puzzled about good people making such mistakes.  Dr. Stearns says that the Rev. Mr. ——­ has been laying his hands on people and saying, “Receive the Holy Ghost.”  Such excesses give me great doubt and pain.

To the Same, Sept. 3, 1875.

Your letter came to find me in a sorrowful and weary spot.  My dear M. lies here with typhoid fever, and my heart and soul and body are in less than a fortnight of it pretty well used up, and my husband is in almost as bad a case with double anxiety, he and A. expecting every hour to see me break down.  It has been an awful pull for us all, for not one of us has an atom of health to spare, and only keep about by avoiding all the wear and tear we can.  Dr. Buck has sent us an excellent English nurse; she came yesterday and insisted on sitting up with M. all night and we all dropped into our beds like so many shot birds.  I heard her go down for ice three times, so I knew my precious lamb was not neglected,