_5th Mo. 24th_. A solemn warning from Uncle R. on Fifth-day did me good. I was blessed with some degree of ability to use the words, "Into Thy hands I commit my spirit," and though I feared to add, "Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord of truth," in its full sense, yet I have felt how precious were the words, "as unto a _faithful_ Creator." Oh, does He not say in _these_ days, "Open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it"? Is His hand shortened at all? Can we not have faith in our principles? The following lines were written about this, time, in allusion to the marriage of her eldest, sister, and the funeral of John Wadge, an old and valued friend of the family. It was hoped that the cactus which had belonged to J.W. would have blossomed in time for the wedding; but the first flower only opened a fortnight afterwards, on the morning of his own funeral: and when, in a few years, the marriage of the beloved writer of the lines was so speedily followed by her own decease, the striking appropriateness of these touching verses could not fail to be remembered. TO A CACTUS FLOWER. Firstling blossom! gayly spreading On a long-nursed household tree, What unwonted spell is shedding Thought of grief on bloom of thee? For a morning bright and tender They had nursed thee glad and fond; Nay, the bud reserved its splendor For a funeral scene beyond. Who shall tell us which were meeter,-- Marriage morn, or funeral day? What if nature chose the sweeter, Where her blooming gift to lay? Set in thorns that flower so tender! Marriage days have poignant hours; Thorny stem, thou hast thy splendor! Funeral days have also flowers. And the loftiest hopes man nurses, Never deem them idly born; Never think that deathly curses Blight them on a funeral morn. Buds of their perennial nature Need a region where to blow, Where the stalk has loftier stature Than it reaches here below. Not like us they dread the bosom Of chill earth's sepulchral gloom; They will find them where to blossom, And perhaps select a _tomb_. Yes, a _tomb_; so thou mayst deem it, With regretful feelings fond; _Not_ a _tomb_, however, seems it, If thou know'st to look _beyond_. 10th of 7th Month, 1847. _8th Mo. 8th_. We alone. Pleasant and quiet schemes have arisen (partly from reading Pyecroft, partly from having felt so much my own deficiencies) for thoroughly industrious study, and for keeping, if possible, externals and mentals in more order. Order, I believe, would enable me to do much more than I do in this way, without lessening those little "good works" which my natural, unsanctified conscience requires as a sedative; (alas that this is so nearly all!) but I have got such an impression of selfishness in sitting down to read to myself, that this, added to unsettlement from company, etc., almost puts study out of sight.