January, 1850.—­Eddy is now fourteen months old, has six teeth, and walks well, but with timidity.  He is, at times, really beautiful.  He is very affectionate, and will run to meet me, throw his little arms round my neck and keep pat-pat-patting me, with delight.  Miss Arnold sent him, at New Year’s, a pretty ball, with which he is highly pleased.  He rolls it about by knocking it with a stick, and will shout for joy when he sees it moving.  He is crazy to give everybody something, and when he is brought down to prayers, hurries to get the Bible for his father, his little face all smiles and exultation, and his body in a quiver with emotion.  He is like lightning in all his movements, and is never still for an instant.  It is worth a good deal to see his face, it is so brimful of life and sunshine and gladness.

Her letters, written during the winter and spring, show how in the midst of bodily suffering, depression, and sorrow her views of life were changing and her faith in God growing stronger.  Three of her brothers were now in California, seeking their fortunes in the newly-discovered gold mines.  To one of them she writes, March 10th: 

I was delighted yesterday by the reception of your letter.  I do not wonder that Lotty’s death affected you as it did—­but however sharp the instruments by which these lessons come to us, they are full of good when they do come.  As I look back to the time when I did not know what death was doing and could do, I seem to myself like a child who has not yet been to school.  The deaths of our dear mother and of Lotty have taken fast hold of me.  Life is entirely changed.  I do not say this in a melancholy or repining temper, for I would not have life appear otherwise than in its true light.  All my sickly, wicked disgust with it has been put to the blush and driven away.  I see now that to live for God, whether one is allowed ability to be actively useful or not, is a great thing, and that it is a wonderful mercy to be allowed to live and suffer even, if thereby one can glorify Him.  I desire to live if it is God’s will, though I confess heaven looks most attractive when either sin, sorrow, or sickness weary me.  But I must not go on at this rate, for I could not in writing begin to tell you how different everything looks as I advance into a knowledge of life and see its awful sorrows and sufferings and changes and know that I am subject to all its laws, soon to take my turn in its mysterious close.  My dear brother, let us learn by heart the lessons we are learning, and go in their strength and wisdom all our days....  Our children are well.  Eddy has gone to be weighed (he weighed twenty-four pounds).  He is a fine little fellow.  I have his nurse still, and ought to be in excellent health, but am a nervous old thing, as skinny and bony as I can be.  I can think of nothing but birds’ claws when I look at my hands.  But I have so much to be thankful for in my dear husband and my sweet little children, and love all of you so dearly, that I believe I am as rich as if I had the flesh and strength of a giant.  I am going this week to hear Miss Arnold read a manuscript novel.  This will give spice to my life.  Warmest love to you all.