e
we entered it, and I dare say you know what endless uproar the flitting
from room to room to accommodate painters, causes. We have just been
admitted to our parlor, but it is in no order, and the dining-room is
still piled with trunks. But the house is lovely, and we shall feel well
repaid for the severe labor it has cost us, when it is done and we can
settle down in it. I write to ask you to send me by express what numbers
of Stepping Heavenward you have on hand. I would not give you the
trouble to do this if I could get them in any other way, but I can not,
as all back numbers are gone, and the copy I have has been borrowed and
worn, so as to be illegible in many places. Randolph is to publish the
work and says he wants it soon. I am constantly receiving testimonies as
to its usefulness, and hope it will do good to many who have not seen it
in the Advance.

How I do long to see you! I think of you many times every day, and thank
God that He enables you to glorify Him in bearing your great sorrow.
Sometimes I feel as if I _must_ see Mr. L.'s kind face once more, but I
remind myself that by patiently waiting a little while, I shall see it
and the faces of all the sainted ones who have gone before. Next to
faith in God comes patience; I see that more and more, and few possess
enough of either to enable them to meet the day of bereavement without
dismay. We are constantly getting letters from afflicted souls that can
not see one ray of light, and keep reiterating, "I am not reconciled."
How fearful it must be to kick thus against the pricks, already sharp
enough! I believe fully with you that there is no happiness on earth, as
there is none in heaven, to be compared with that of losing all things
to possess Christ. I look back to two points in my life as standing out
from all the rest of it as seasons of peculiar joy, and they are the
points where I was crushed under the weight of sorrow. How wonderful
this is, how incomprehensible to those who have not learned Christ!
Do write me oftener; you are very dear to me, and your letters always
welcome. I love you for magnifying the Lord in the midst of your
distress; you could not get so into my heart in any other way.

_To Mrs. Smith, Dorset, August 8, 1869._

Half of your chickens are safely here, well and bright, and settled I
hope, for the summer. A., and M., who seems as joyous as a lark, are
like Siamese twins, with the advantage of untying at night and sleeping
in d