The following is a part of the letter referred to:  The day after “New Year’s” I was visited with a severe cold and general prostration that has kept me in my bed—­giving me time! As soon as I was strong enough to read I had “The Home” brought.  After reading it I felt I ought to tell you how deeply I was impressed with the usefulness, excellence, and spirit of the book.  As to its usefulness, you are to be envied; to have brought light, as I believe you have, to a large number of people upon the most precious and vital interests of life, is something worth living and suffering for.  The good sense, wisdom, experience, and Christian faith embodied in it must make it a strong helper and friend to many a home in trouble and to many perplexed and discouraged hearts, who will doubtless rise up some day to call you “blessed.”

Though you cared less about the manner than the matter, I was impressed by its literary qualities.  The scene at the death of Mrs. Grey and parting of herself and Margaret is as highly artistic and beautiful as anything I can think of.  The contrast of good and bad, or good and indifferent, is common enough; but the contrast of what is noble and what is “saintly” is something infinitely higher and subtler.  I can’t imagine anything more exquisitely tender and beautiful than Mrs. Grey’s departure, but it is the more realised by the previous action of Margaret.  The few lines in which this is told bring their whole character—­in each case—­vividly before you.  But I see that if the book had previously to this point been differently written it would have been impossible to have rendered this scene so remarkably impressive.  The story of “Eric” is extremely quaint and charming; it is a vein I am not familiar with in your writings.  It is a little classic.  This quaint child’s story and the death of Mrs. Grey affect me as a fine work of art affects one, whenever I recall them.  The trite saying is still true, “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.”

You know children complain of some sweets that they leave a bad taste—­and works of fiction often do with me.  I feel tired and dissatisfied after I have passed out of their excitements; but the heavenly atmosphere of this book left me better; I know that the Blessed Spirit must have influenced you in the writing of it, and I doubt not His blessing will accompany its teachings.

Now will you excuse this blotty letter—­written in bed—­and accept my thanks for all the good your book has done me.

The following is her reply: 

DEAR MR. CADY:—­Your letter afforded me more satisfaction than I know how to explain.  It is true that I made up my mind, as a very young girl, to keep out of the way of literary people, so as to avoid literary ambition.  Nor have I regretted that decision.  Yet the human nature is not dead in me, and my instincts still crave the kind of recognition you have given me.  I have had heaps of letters from all parts of this country, England, Scotland,