My dearly loved mother,--How can I express words of sympathy to you, when my heart is so full of grief on my own account, from such a loss as I can never experience but once, _the loss of a father_. To lose a parent under any circumstances is a heavy affliction; but to lose such a father, and to be unable to administer to his comfort, by his sick bed; to receive and treasure the words of love and wisdom which fall from his lips,--to hear his last prayer, and receive his last blessing, is indeed a sorrow heavy to be borne. You, my dear my only surviving parent, have one source of comfort, which though it may at present aggravate the loss you have sustained, will yet be an unspeakable blessing to you; and that is in the precious memories of your dear husband. These remembrances of the past, how will you live in them after the first poignancy of your grief has abated; how greatly will they sustain you. I can truly say, that not one unpleasant word, not one unholy expression comes up to disturb the hallowed remembrance of my dearly loved father. On the contrary, every hard feeling is softened, every unkind thought subdued, when I think of his meek, loving spirit, and recollect his words of love toward all mankind. "Dear, _dear_ father! And shall I never see thee more? never more gaze into thy mild blue eyes, and see the looks of parental fondness beaming there--never more feel thy warm embrace, or hear thy gentle voice say, 'my daughter!'" Ah! in the midnight hour I see _thee_ oft, And hear thy voice-- Thy mingled words of love and tenderness. And thou dost point me to the promis'd land, Where now thou dwell'st-- The better land of never ending bliss. My dear mother, if anything earthly could alleviate a sorrow like mine, it is the hope, though yet faint, that I shall ere long look upon your dear face and from your own lips hear the answer to the many questions my heart yearns to ask. Do not disappoint me. Have I not a claim upon you for a few years? I can anticipate one objection you will feel in leaving the spot consecrated as the resting place of your beloved husband. But, dear mother, _he_ is not there. He is with his Saviour, and the throne of grace is as near us in America as in England.