This is my first Sabbath in America. It has been a delightful day to me; and I think I can say, it has been blessed to my soul. Though far away from country, home and friends, yet I could meet you all at the throne of Grace. I prayed for every dear member of the home-circle, and for my beloved husband, myself and my precious charge. I went to church morning and afternoon, and was much impressed by the services. There is a seriousness and solemnity about the audience, which I have seldom witnessed. The sermons were chaste and in some passages even elegant in style. But what pleased me more than all, was the fervor with which Mr. Munroe delivered them, and the love which he manifested for the souls of his people. In the morning the text was 1 Cor. 15, 22: "For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive." He dwelt upon the death which reigns in consequence of Adam's sin; and in the afternoon, upon the resurrection-life which all receive from Christ. The singing was performed by a choir in the orchestra, accompanied by a variety of instruments. When I returned from Church this morning, my little Ina was still asleep, as I had left her. But this afternoon as I went in, she came bounding toward me, clapping her hands, and saying "_chère maman! chère maman!_" I had to take her to my boudoir to put off my bonnet and shawl, for she would not leave me. She was willing while in my arms to play with Frank; but if he attempted to take her from me, she hid her face in my neck. I like to have her call me _mamma_ when we are alone; but it makes Emily laugh, and I see Frank is inclined to follow her example, only that he sees it makes me blush, and embarrasses me. Sweet child! I wish she were my own; I cannot bear the thought of parting with her. Yet it may be that her mother is mourning her loss. Do you remember Pauline De Lacy, my dear friend and school-mate, in Paris? Ina looks so much like her, one would think they must belong to the same family; indeed, sisters seldom resemble each other so exactly. To-day, this has occurred to me so many times, that, with the consent of all parties, I have decided to call her Pauline De Lacy Lenox. "Quite a romantic name," Frank says, gravely; "but as you are a very romantic lady, it will be in good taste." I looked up quickly, intending to deny the charge, when I saw that roguish twinkle in his eye, which I begin to understand.