thoughts, and such difficulty in being steadfast and unmovable? Oh, how
I sigh for the sort of life I led in Richmond, and which was more or
less the life of the succeeding years at home! My husband tries to
persuade me that the difference is more in my way of life, and that then
being my time for contemplation, now is my time for action. But I know,
myself, that I have lost ground. You must bear me in mind when you pray,
my dear Louise, for I never had so much need of praying nor so little
time or strength for it.

* * * * *

III.

Further Extracts from Eddy's Journal. Ill-health. Visit to Newark. Death
of her Brother-in-law, S. S. Prentiss. His Character. Removal to Newark.
Letters.

The record of the new year opens with this entry in Eddy's journal:

_January, 1850._--Eddy is now fourteen months old, has six teeth, and
walks well, but with timidity. He is, at times, really beautiful. He is
very affectionate, and will run to meet me, throw his little arms round
my neck and keep pat-pat-patting me, with delight. Miss Arnold sent him,
at New Year's, a pretty ball, with which he is highly pleased. He rolls
it about by knocking it with a stick, and will shout for joy when he
sees it moving. He is _crazy_ to give everybody something, and when he
is brought down to prayers, hurries to get the Bible for his father, his
little face all smiles and exultation, and his body in a quiver with
emotion. He is like lightning in all his movements, and is never still
for an instant. It is worth a good deal to see his face, it is so
_brimful_ of life and sunshine and gladness.

Her letters, written during the winter and spring, show how in the midst
of bodily suffering, depression, and sorrow her views of life were
changing and her faith in God growing stronger. Three of her brothers
were now in California, seeking their fortunes in the newly-discovered
gold mines. To one of them she writes, March 10th:

I was delighted yesterday by the reception of your letter. I do not
wonder that Lotty's death affected you as it did--but however sharp the
instruments by which these lessons come to us, they are full of good
when they do come. As I look back to the time when I did not know what
death was doing and could do, I seem to myself like a child who has not
yet been to school. The deaths of our dear mother and of Lotty have
taken fast hold of me. Life is _entirely changed_. I do not say this
in a melanch