fe.
It is Sabbath morning there, and we are around the family altar. The
chapter has been read, and we are singing a favorite hymn of the one
who reads and prays. It is spring time, and the fresh air comes in
through the opened window, perfumed with the rose and the sweet-brier.
But we are singing:

"The rosy light is dawning,
Upon the mountain's brow:
It is the Sabbath morning,
Arise, and pay thy vow.
Lift up thy voice to Heaven,
In sacred praise and prayer,
While unto thee is given
The light of life to share.

The landscape, lately shrouded
By evening's paler ray,
Smiles beauteous and unclouded
Before the eye of day;
So let our souls, benighted
Too long in folly's shade,
By the kind smiles be lighted
To joys that never fade.

O, see those waters streaming
In crystal purity;
While earth, with verdure teeming,
Give rapture to the eye.
Let rivers of salvation
In larger currents flow,
Till every tribe and nation
Their healing virtue know."

The morning is past--we have been to church, and dined; and now
our little daughter is listening, most eagerly, to the Bible story,
which was promised her as a reward for good behavior.

The afternoon has passed. We have had an early tea, and again we
surround the Throne of Grace before going to church. The same loved
voice is heard again joining in another favorite hymn:

"Sweet is the light of Sabbath eve,
And soft the sunbeams lingering there:
For this blest hour the world I leave,
Wafted on wings of faith and prayer.

The time, how lovely, and how still!
Peace shines and smiles on all below;
The vale, the wood, the stream, the hill,
All fair with evening's setting glow.

Season of rest, the tranquil soul
Feels the sweet calm, and melts to love:
And while these peaceful moments roll,
Faith sees a smiling Heaven above.

Nor shall our days of toil be long;
Our pilgrimage will soon be trod,
And we shall join the ceaseless song,
The endless Sabbath of our God."

Affectionately yours, GRANDMA.

Belmont, February, 1861.

Letter Ten

My Dear Grandchildren:

I see in casting a glance back, that I have passed over a good
deal in the life of your grandfather, which will, perhaps, be of
interest to you; without which, at any rate, this sketch would not be
complete. And I intended, when I closed my last letter, to commence
this with his career as a business man, and to continue the narrative
to the close of his life; and then to give yo