ce I began to write, but
I have spent a great part of it with my eyes shut because I happened
to feel more like meditating than writing, if you know what sort of
a feeling that is. Oh, that we might be enabled to go onward day by
day--and _upward too_.

I have been making violent efforts for years to become meek and lowly in
heart. At present I do hope that I am less irritable than I used to be.
It was no small comfort to me when sister was home last summer, to learn
from her that I had succeeded somewhat in my efforts. But though I have
not often the last year been guilty of "harsh speeches," I have felt
my pride tugging with all its might to kindle a great fire when some
unexpected trial has caught me off my guard. I am persuaded that real
meekness dwells deep within the heart and that it is only to be gained
by communion with our blessed Saviour, who when He was reviled, reviled
not again.

_Sabbath Evening, 8th._--I wanted to write last evening but had a worse
pain in my side and left arm than I have had since I came here. While it
lasted, which was an hour and a half, I had such pleasant thoughts for
companions as would make any pain endurable. I was asking myself if,
supposing God should please suddenly to take me away in the midst of
life, whether I should feel willing and glad to go, and oh, it did seem
_delightful_ to think of it, and to feel sure that, sooner or later, the
summons will come. Those pieces which you marked in the "Observer" I
have read and like them exceedingly, especially those about growth in
grace.... You speak of the goodness of God to me in granting me so much
of His presence, while I am here away from all earthly friends. Indeed I
want to be able to praise Him as I never yet have done, and I don't know
where to begin. I have felt more pain in this separation from home on
mother's account than any other, as I feel that she needs me at home to
comfort and to love her. Since she lost her best earthly friend I have
been her constant companion. I once had a secret desire for a missionary
life, if God should see fit to prepare me for it, but when I spoke of
it to mother she was so utterly overcome at its bare mention that I
instantly promised I would _never_ for any inducement leave or forsake
her. I want you to pray for me that if poor mother's right hand is made
forever useless, [8] I may after this year be a right hand for her, and
be enabled to make up somewhat to her for the loss of it by