* * * I hope that so far I have been favored with a measure of real help and good hope, though often sensible of multiplied difficulties and dangers, amid the desire to maintain such a state of mind and feeling as I ought. Perhaps the strong light in which I have often perceived how the best earthly hope may be blighted or blasted, even when all seems outwardly favorable, is a true blessing; and would that it might lead me oftener where all our wants can be best and only supplied! I know that _self_ is the foe to be dreaded most, and that is so ever near, sticks so close, that there can be no remedy effectual that is not applied with the penetrating power and all-wise discretion which are no attributes of ours. And yet how often do we vainly try to help ourselves! Two days after this, she wrote to her friend M.B. and alluded very feelingly to the prospect of leaving her old home and its associations. Ever taking a humble view of herself and of her fitness for the duties she was expecting to assume, she writes of "feeling increasingly my deep unfitness and lack of qualification for so very responsible an undertaking as sharing in and influencing and being influenced by all that concerns another. May I be permitted the privilege of which thou hast spoken, that the Lord's presence may go with us, and give us rest, and be to us a little sanctuary wheresoever we may come. _Then_ all will be right. * * * So thou seest just where I am,--in need of faith and hope, and sometimes wanting all things, even amid circumstances which I can find no fault with. Farewell, dear M.; and if thou nearest that I get on well, or am in any way made happy or useful, one conclusion will be very safe, respecting thy unworthy friend,--that it is not in _me_." This closes a correspondence which appears to have been attended with much comfort and profit to the two friends. _8th Mo. 11th_. The time flies, and then the place that has known me will know me no more, except as a sojourner and pilgrim to my father's hearth; and yet I cannot realize it: could I, how should I bear it? This day, much as before, weak in body, death-like in mind; but this evening had such a desire for retirement--so undesired before--and such precious feelings then. Oh, I could go through much with _this_ to sustain me, but I cannot command it for one instant; and, oh, how I felt that He alone can keep my soul alive, whose is every breath, natural and spiritual! Oh, what a joy to feel His Spirit near, the thick, heavy wall of separation melted away. Would that the way could, be kept thus clear to God--my life, my strength, my joy, my all!