er sister wrote. This event brought her into
intimate relations with a remarkable man; a man much beloved in his day,
and whose name will often reappear in these pages.

The next two or three months showed that her Richmond life, although so
full of happy experiences, had yet drawn heavily upon her strength. They
were marked by severe nervous excitement and fits of depression. This,
however, passed away and she settled down again into a busy home life.
But it was no longer the home life of the past. The year of absence had
left a profound impression upon her character. Her mind and heart had
undergone a rapid development. She was only twenty-two on her return,
and had still all the fresh, artless simplicity of a young girl, but
there was joined to it now the maturity of womanhood. Of the rest of the
year a record is preserved in letters to her cousin. These letters give
many little details respecting her daily tasks and the life she led in
the family and in the world; but they are chiefly interesting for the
light they shed upon her progress heavenward. Her whole soul was still
absorbed in divine things. At times her delight in them was sweet and
undisturbed; then again, she found herself tossed to and fro upon the
waves of spiritual conflict. Perfectionism was just then much discussed,
and the question troubled her not a little, as it did again thirty years
later. But whether agitated or at rest, her thoughts all centered in
Christ, and her constant prayer was for more love to Him.

PORTLAND, _Sept. 15, 1841._

The Lord Jesus is indeed dear to me. I can not doubt it. His name is
exceedingly precious. Oh, help me, my dear cousin, to love Him more, to
attain His image, to live only for Him! I blush and am ashamed when
I consider how inadequate are the returns I am making Him; yet I can
praise Him for all that is past and trust Him for all that is to come.
I can not tell you how delightful prayer is. I feel that in it I have
communion with God--that He is here--that He is mine and that I am His.
I long to make progress every day, each minute seems precious, and I
constantly tremble lest I should lose one in returning, instead of
pressing forward with all my strength. No, not _my_ strength, for I have
none, but with all which the Lord gives me. How can I thank you enough
that you pray for me!

_Sept. 18th._--I am all the time so nervous that life would be
insupportable if I had not the comfort of comforts to rejoice in.