"'Oh, Miss Jones,' says she, 'I can see through your kindness, and I shall be very grateful for the coat,' and so she took it and went home. Now Thomas and I have been putting our heads together to get some work for Reynolds, so he wont have to go to the distillery for it. And at last we concluded to ask the Doctor's advice." _Monday, March 6th, 1837._ How little I thought when I wrote last that so long a time would pass before I should write again. I should hardly prove a very good correspondent, did not Frank fill up and make amends for all my deficiencies. The sickness of Pauline, which, I think, I mentioned in my last, and which probably reached you more than a month since, proved to be the worst kind of measles. We were very much alarmed for a time, as they did not come out; and the poor child was burning up with fever. I kept Walter over at mother's for more than a fortnight, while Emily remained here to assist me in the care of the little sufferer. Even when her face was so much swollen as to close her eyes, she was patient and gentle as a lamb. "Dear mamma," she would say, "will God let me see my little brother again? Please ask God to make me well quick; this don't make Pauline's face feel nice." When she had repeatedly begged that Walter might be brought to the bed where she could hear his voice, I explained to her that we feared, if he came, he would be sick too, and his eyes just like hers. After this, the patient sufferer with true self-denial, said, "Mamma, won't you be sick too? I will try to lie still if you can't come. I want to get well to see my brother, but he mustn't come here, because he will take the sick too," she repeated to every one after this. Frank began to grow seriously alarmed, as week after week passed away, and she had nearly recovered from the effects of the measles, to find that her cough still continued. He feared lest her lungs might be affected. From being a very plump, rosy child, she had become extremely pale and thin. Her eyes looked unnaturally large and thoughtful. Her complexion which in health is the richest brunette, was almost sallow. I felt that she was growing too mature. Her questions were so serious and showed so much thought, that I would often catch her in my arms, and feel that I could not give her up. I saw that Frank watched her very closely, and administered to her with the tenderest care. But I dared not ask him what he thought. "Mamma," said Pauline one day, "will you please teach me a little hymn?" "Why, my love!" I asked, struck by the expression of her countenance. "I want more hymns to say in the night. I have said 'Mary had a little lamb,' and 'I knew a little cottage girl,' and all my other hymns, and then I say 'Now I lay me' a great many times over, because that's so short, and I want to learn more." "But, Pauline, why don't you shut your eyes, and go to sleep?"