I received the news of his death in November from his wife, he having married again. But I never knew whether he read my letter or not. The shock was very great and it upset my nerves, not only as the loss of so near a relative naturally would but also from the fact that I had written a letter which I had for several years hesitated to write, not wishing to place myself in a hostile position to a father who, after all, had been kind and had done the best he knew how to do for his children. This news also added another care and responsibility, as my father left two younger sisters unprovided for. Being a salaried civil officer in the government, he had no opportunity to accumulate money, and both these sisters were above the age when government pensions are allowed to children. Although my sisters who were married and lived in New York and Washington gladly joined in this financial care yet their own family interests could not be sacrificed. Thus ended the year 1859, and Christmas time was a rather _triste_ one, especially as that cheerful festival was not then celebrated in New England, and schools and colleges continued in session as usual. In looking back upon it, it seems to me that that year was one of the most delightful as well as the most tragic, and one of the most peaceful yet most conflicting, in emotion, in judgment and in making decisions. Often have I meditated how differently would we act if we clearly saw events a little before they occurred. And how utterly tales of fiction fail when they describe how rightly instinctive wisdom decides at a moment when emotions and intelligence oppose each other, always leading the hero to do the right thing. The calm reasoning of the author knows what aim he has in view and what will be the end. In real life it is quite a different affair, and no one can judge the result when in a condition of conflict between heart and head. CHAPTER XXV