,
good way she had made us wondrously grateful to her for the faith she
had reposed in us; a deed of some of her land, which the street had cut
into, which she desired us to use for some one who was needy, unless we
ourselves needed it; and in the last sentences of her message to us she
said:

"If ever anybody belongin' to me comes in your path, give 'em a lift. I
can trust you to do it, and the Lord will spare your lives, I know.
Don't tell any livin' soul, Emily." This was a sacred message to both
Louis and myself, and I should feel it sacrilege to write it all out
here, even though I much desire to.

Dear Aunt Hildy! when we essayed to thank her, she said:

"There, there, don't say a word; I've allus said I'd be my own
executioner, (I did not correct her mistake), and I know that's the way.
You see, some day I'll go out like a candle, for all my mother's folks
died that way, so I want to be ready. The other side of the house live
longer, more pity for it too. They've handed down more trouble than you
know, but I aint like one of 'em; it's my mother I belong to."

It seemed to me now that the years went like days and the first five
after our marriage, that ended with the summer of 1851, were filled for
the most part with pleasant cares. I was still my mother's girl, and
helped about the house as always before. Of course, some sorrows came to
us in these years, for changes cannot be perfectly like clear glass. Hal
and Mary had held to their hearts one beautiful Baby blossom, who only
lived four months to cheer them, and then passed from their brooding
tenderness on to the other side. We sorrowed for this, and "Love's Fawn"
had pale cheeks for a long time. Hal feared she would follow her child,
and it might have been had not a somewhat necessary journey across the
Atlantic brought great benefit to her.

The venture Mr. Hanson had made had proved so eminently successful, that
when, this year, he again went to the Old World, it was deemed wise and
right for them to accompany himself and family. I almost wanted to go,
too, and when Hal sent back to us his beautifully written account of all
he saw, I stood in spirit beside him, and anticipated many of his
proposed visits. They both returned with improved health and added
fortune.

The mining fever of 1849 took a few of our townspeople from us. Aunt
Phebe wrote us that her second son had gone to find gold, and Ben had a
little idea of trying the life of a pioneer; but