s lest
the new interest should draw her heart away from Him who had been its
chief joy. In a letter to her cousin, she touches on this point:

You know how by circumstances my affections have been repressed, and
now, having found _liberty to love,_ I am tempted to seek my heaven in
so loving. But, my dear cousin, there is nothing worth having apart from
God; I feel this every day more and more and the fear of satisfying
myself with something short of Him--this is my only anxiety. This drives
me to the throne of His grace and makes me refuse to be left one moment
to myself. I believe I desire first of all to love God supremely and to
do something for Him, if He spares my life.

Early in December her sister, Mrs. Hopkins, with an infant boy, came to
Portland and passed a part of the winter under the maternal roof. The
arrival of this boy--her mother's first grandchild--was an event in the
family history. Here is her own picture of the scene:

It was a cold evening, and grandmamma, who had been sitting by the fire,
knitting and reading, had at last let her book fall from her lap, and
had dropped to sleep in her chair. The four uncles sat around the table,
two of them playing chess, and two looking on, while Aunt Fanny, with
her cat on her knees, studied German a little, looked at the clock very
often, and started at every noise.

"I have said, all along, that they wouldn't come," she cried at last.
"The clock has just struck nine, and I am not going to expect them any
longer. I _knew_ Herbert would not let Laura undertake such a journey in
the depth of winter; or, at any rate, that Laura's courage would tail at
the last moment."

She had hardly uttered these words, when there was a ring at the
doorbell, then a stamping of feet on the mat, to shake off the snow, and
in they Came, Lou, and Lou's papa, and Lou's mamma, bringing ever so
much fresh, cold air with them. Grandmamma woke up, and rose to meet
them with steps as lively as if she were a young girl; Aunt Fanny tossed
the cat from her lap, and seized the bundle that held the baby; the four
uncles crowded about her, eager to get the first peep at the little
wonder. There was such a laughing, and such a tumult, that poor Lou,
coming out of the dark night into the bright room, and seeing so many
strange faces, did not know what to think. When his cloaks and shawls
and capes were at last pulled off by his auntie's eager hands, there
came into view a serious little fac