drach, 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.

[Illustration: The Dorset Home.]

A. is gone to Portland and Prout's Neck. Mr. P. is unusually well this
summer, and has actually worked a little in my garden. He is going to
Saratoga this week to visit Mrs. Bronson.... M. is a kind of supplement
to her father; I love in her what I love in him, and she loves in me
what he loves; we never had a jar in our lives, and are more like
twin-sisters than mother and daughter. Hatty K. is like a second M. to
me. At this moment they are each