You know the little history of their infant years, and that they were ever with me. You know also of the frightful chasm in my life, which succeeded. I dare not even now look back upon that period, nor is it necessary; for you have nothing to do with the first years of childhood: but till this moment I never told you of the _heart-sting_ by which I was roused from that torpor which had diffused a species of Upas shade over my character for some years. While I was buried in my cottage near Linton, in Devonshire, I was attacked by low fever which threatened my life. It was not contagious, and therefore I was not debarred from seeing my children. Frederick, the eldest, was then twelve years old, and one day when he and his little sisters came to kiss and say farewell before they took their walk, I perceived my dear boy's cheek wet as it touched mine, and almost in the same instant that the tiny group hurried from my room I found a scrap of paper lying on the pillow upon which my head was reclined. I opened and read the following artless effusion addressed "_To my beloved Mamma._ And wilt _thou also_ fall asleep? And must we never cease to weep? And can'st thou breathe a long farewell To those whose little bosoms swell With love, that would thy sorrows cheer, With grief, that finds no solace here? Oh take us to the realms of light, Or stay awhile thy spirit's flight Tho' angels beckon: hear our prayer, Nor leave thy children to despair!" This first lisping of an almost infant muse produced an electric effect, and seemed the proximate instrument to inspire a degree of resolution which till then had been denied to my prayers; for God does his work in our hearts by secondary means and not by miracles. From that hour my mind appeared gradually to receive strength. I began to feel that solitude was too selfish an enjoyment; that I had _active_ duties which claimed a share of my thoughts. I prayed earnestly, I exerted myself unceasingly, recovered health, and then determined on the great sacrifice of re-visiting Glenalta. The anguish, which that effort cost me, it would be as impossible for me to express, as it would be painful to you to conceive. Enough of this! Your request for assistance in your new character has led me back through a labyrinth of past time, and my pen has almost unconsciously pursued the train.