I can have to myself.  I think sometimes that I should be thankful for the meanest place in the universe.  You ask if I ever dream of seeing the Lord.  No—­I never did, neither should I think it desirable; but a few days ago, when I woke, I had fresh in my remembrance some precious words which, as I had been dreaming, He had spoken to me.  It left an indescribable feeling of love and peace on my mind.  I seemed in my dream to be very near Him, and that He was encouraging me to ask of Him all the things of which I felt the need.

Jan. 17th.—­I did not mean to write so much about myself, for when I took out my letter I was thinking of things and beings far above this world.  I was thinking of the hour when the Christian first enters into the joy of his Lord, when the first note of the “new song” is borne to his ear, and the first view of the Lamb of God is granted to his eye.  It seems to me as if the bliss of that one minute would fully compensate for all the toils and struggles he must go through here; and then to remember the ages of happiness that begin at that point!  Oh, if the unseen presence of Jesus can make the heart to sing for joy in the midst of its sorrow and sin here, what will it be to dwell with Him forever!

My Bible class, which consists now of eighteen, is every week more dear to me.  I am glad that you think poor Nannie well off.  She has an inquiring mind, and though before coming here she had received no religious instruction and had not even a Bible, she is now constantly asking me questions which prove her to be a first-rate thinker and reasoner.  She went to the theatre last night and came home quite disgusted, saying to herself, “I shouldn’t like to die in the midst of such gayeties as these.”  She urged me to tell her if I thought it wrong for her to go, but I would not, because I did not want her to stay away for my sake.  I want her to settle the question fairly in her own mind and to be guided by her own conscience rather than mine.  She is so grateful and happy that, if the sacrifice had been greater, we should be glad that we had made it.  And then if we can do her any good, how much reason we shall have to thank God for having placed her here!

Feb. 11th.—­My thoughts of serious things should, perhaps, be called prayers, rather than anything else.  I have constant need of looking up to God for help, so utterly weak and ignorant am I and so dependent upon Him.  Sometimes in my walks, especially those of the early morning, I take a verse from the “Daily Food” to think upon; at others, if my mind is where I want it should be, everything seems to speak and suggest thoughts of my Heavenly Father, and when it is otherwise I feel as if that time had been wasted.  This is not “keeping the mind on the stretch,” and is delightfully refreshing.  All I wish is that I were always thus favored.  As to a hasty temper, I know that anybody who ever lived with me, until within the last two or three years, could tell you