Before we left our room this morning, Frank gave me a subject for thought which rather troubles me; but I think I know what you and dear father would advise; I know also what is right; but courage, _courage_ is wanting. We are constantly liable to be interrupted while engaged in family devotions; or Frank is away at the regular time. He asked, this morning, as a great favor to himself, that I would, in such cases, call the family together and read prayers. I started at the proposition, and was about to say, "I cannot," when he said, "do not decide hastily. Think upon the subject, and tell me to-morrow." After a pause, he continued, "the time of a physician is not at his own command. I may be called away day after day; and our family services lose half their interest and profit through the want of regularity." "How was it before I came?" "Mother always conducted the service in my absence." My mind was in a perfect tumult. At breakfast I thought I had found a good excuse; at least, it then appeared so to me; and I tried to be cheerful and to dismiss the subject. After prayers, as my husband was leaving the room, I detained him; "Frank," I asked, "don't you think I'm too young?--Cæsar, Phebe and Ann are so much older than I am. Does it appear to you quite proper?" "Well," said he, coming back and shutting the door, "I didn't think of it in that light. You _are_ rather young, to be sure; only eighteen the fourth day of February." I was surprised that he remembered the exact day. "How soon do you think you will be at the proper age?" I had thought, when he commenced, that he certainly considered this a valid excuse; but the moment he asked that question, though there was not the slightest touch of irony in his tone, yet I felt mortified in the extreme, and the blood rushed to my very forehead. I turned quickly away, as Emily entered the room. And now what can I do? My heart almost stands still at the bare thought of it; _I_, who have never audibly lifted up my voice in prayer to God, save only in the presence of my little Pauline. _I cannot do it_; and I think my husband almost hard to ask it of me. He is always so calm and self-possessed, he little knows how my heart throbs. _Noon._ As Frank has not returned, I will add a few lines. I have taken Pauline for a walk through the garden, and made a call upon mother and sister. How we all laughed when the little thing lisped "grandmamma," in obedience to my wish. Before we came out, mother remarked that I looked quite pale. I longed to ask her advice, but conscience whispered, "you already know your duty;" and I concluded to say nothing about my trouble. "Emily," I replied, "can sympathize with me; she is looking very unwell." As I spoke, her face and neck were covered with a burning blush. "Emily is not well," said mother gravely; "She scarcely eats at all." "O, mother!" exclaimed Emily, "I'm well enough, only a head ache," and she went to the closet to get seed cakes for Pauline.