After prayer, the company bade us good night and retired. The next morning, at family prayers, I was delighted to hear my husband pray that he might not be led to take to himself that glory which was due to God alone; but that the late scene might humble him and render him more diligent in his master's service. _Friday, October 24th._ This morning, before Pauline's departure, Eugene put into her hand, legal documents conveying to her one half of their deceased father's estate. Uncle and aunt Morgan are to return with the bride and bridegroom. Charles Karswell and Anna Reynolds are to be of the party as far as New York city, and Eugene to New Haven, where he is to resume his place in the senior class in Yale College, which he entered at the last commencement. Now that they all have gone, I begin to realize that Pauline, the child of my heart, has left me, and in spite of all my efforts at resistance, a sadness steals over my spirits. I try to compose myself, and to realize some comfort from the thought my dear husband holds up to my view, that I have gained a son. But as yet I can only remember that I have lost the society and companionship of my lovely daughter; I think that Frank feels her loss almost as much as I do; for though he appears very cheerful, yet there is a pallor about his mouth which I have always noticed when his feelings are deeply moved. I heard him as he left me to visit his patients humming a lively tune; but I knew that he only did it, as boys whistle in the dark, to keep their courage up. CHAPTER XL. "When all the fiercest passions cease, (The glory and disgrace of youth;) When the deluded soul in peace, Can listen to the voice of truth; When we are taught in whom to trust, And how to spare, to spend, to give; (Our prudence kind, our pity just,) 'Tis then we rightly learn to live." CRABBE. "_Papers relating to my beloved Imogen, to be read by my son on his attaining his majority._ H. C. S. "MY DEAR SON EUGENE,--When you unseal this packet, the hand which wrote this brief account of your mother, will be mouldering in the dust. When you have read it, you will need no farther explanation of the cause of that sorrow which has brought me to the grave. Nor will you wonder that I could never enter upon the subject so often and so naturally referred to by you. "My beloved Imogen, your mother was born in Nice, of highly respectable and wealthy parents. The estate on which they lived, which has of course much depreciated in value, together with funds in Paris, enabled them to live in comfort, and to bestow upon their only child, Imogen, the best advantages of education.