Soon after her return from Montreal she began painting in water-colors, which afforded her much delight during the rest of her life.  The following note to Mrs. Ellen S. Fisher, of Brooklyn, dated July 2d, will show how her lessons were taken: 

Will you kindly inform me as to your method of teaching your system of water-colors by mail, and as to terms.  I have not had time to do anything in that line, as I had to go to Canada (by-the-bye, you can get delightful Chinese white paint there in tubes).  My daughter says she thinks she heard you say that you would paint a little flower-piece reasonably, or perhaps you have one to spare now.  I should like a few wild flowers against a blue sky.  I got half a dozen Parian vases at Montreal—­each a group of three—­and filled with daisies and a few grasses, they are exquisite.  Some of them are in imitation of the hollow toadstools one finds in the woods.

To Mrs. Condict, Kauinfels, July 23, 1877.

Kauinfels is a word we invented, after spending no little time, by referring to a spot in a favorite brook as “the place where the old cow fell in”; it looked so German and pleased us so much that we concluded to give our place that name.  We are fond of odd names.  We have a dog Pharaoh and a horse Shoo Fly.  Then we had Shadrach, Meseck, and Abednego for cats.  We had a dog named Penelope Ann—­a splendid creature, but we had to part with her.  My Bible-reading began two weeks ago, and neither rain nor shine keeps people away.  For a small village the attendance is very large.  I do not know how much good they do, but it is a comfort to try.

I can’t get over Miss —–­’s tragical end.  She must have suffered dreadfully.  I do not doubt her present felicity, nor that she counts her life on earth as anything more than a moment’s space.  I do not feel sure that she did me any good.  I saw so much that was morbid when she visited me here, that I never enjoyed her as I did when I knew her less.  But there is nothing morbid about her now.

To Mrs. James Donaghe, Dorset, Aug. 20, 1877.

Yesterday was the first fine day we have had in a long time, and, as I sat enjoying it on the front porch, how I wished I could transport you here and share these mountains with you!  To-day is equally fine, and how gladly would I bottle it up and send it to you!  A score of times I have asked myself why I do not bring you here, and then been reminded that you can not leave your husband.

I do not write many letters this summer.  We have three or four guests nearly all the time.  This uses up what little brain I have left, and by half-past eight or nine I have to go to bed.  I am unusually well, but work hard in the garden all the forenoon and get tired.  Yesterday the Rev. Mr. Reed, of Flushing, preached a most impressive sermon on the denial of self.  In the afternoon he preached to a neighborhood meeting at his own house, to which we three girls go, namely, M., her friend Hatty K., and myself.  I give Thursdays pretty much up to my Bible-reading—­studying for it in the morning and holding it at three in the afternoon.  Utter unfitness for this or any other work for the Master makes me very dependent on Him.  The service is largely attended, and how I get courage to speak to so many, I know not.