eresting to me. There is another place where he
wishes he had known this blessedness twenty years before. [3]

_Dec. 18th._--"I am very, very happy; and yet it is hardly a happiness
which I can describe. You know what it is to rejoice in the sweet
consciousness that there is a Saviour--a near and a present Saviour; and
thus am I now rejoicing; grateful to Him for His holy nature, for His
power over me, for His dealings with me, for a thousand things which I
can only try to express to Him. Oh, how excellent above all treasures
does He now appear! One minute of nearness to the Lord Jesus contains
more of delight than years spent in intercourse with any earthly friend.
I could not but own to-night that God can make me happy without a right
hand or a right eye. Lord, make me Thine, and I will cheerfully give
Thee all.

_Dec. 22d._--"As to my Italian and Tasso, I am ashamed to tell you how
slow I have been. Between company and housework and sewing I have my
hands about full, and precious little time for reading and study. Still,
I feel that I live a life of too much ease. I should love to spend
the rest of my existence in the actual service of the Lord, without a
question as to its ease and comfort. Reading Brainerd this afternoon
made me long for his loose hold on earthly things. I do not know how to
attain to such a spirit. Is it by prayer alone and the consequent sense
of the worth of Divine things that this deadness to the world is to be
gained--or, by giving up, casting away the treasures which withdraw
the heart or have a tendency to withdraw it from God? This is quite an
interesting question to me now, and I should really like it settled. The
thought of living apart from God is more dreadful than any affliction I
can think of.

Here are some passages from two leaves of her journal which escaped the
flames. They touch upon another side of her life at this period.

_December 1, 184l._--"I went to the sewing-circle this afternoon and had
such a stupid time! Enough gossip and nonsense was talked to make one
sick, and I'm sure it wasn't the fault of my head that my hair didn't
stand on end. Now my mother is a very sensible mother, but when she
urges me into company and exhorts me to be more social, she runs the
risk of having me become as silly as the rest of 'em. She fears I may be
harmed by reading, studying and staying with her, but heaven forbid I
should find things in books worse than things out of them. I can't th