Pauline is taking nice care of me, while Ann is busy about her morning work. The dear little thing is so proud to do anything for mamma. Sometimes she tries to help too much. After Ann curled her hair this morning, she accidentally left the brush on the dressing table. Pauline soon espied it, and stepping softly across the room made herself look like a fright. Her hair needs to be wet before it can be combed, and now being brushed when dry, it stood out like a broom all over her head. I told Ann not to laugh so much, lest the child should be encouraged to do it again, and should give us great trouble. I asked Frank this morning, if he thought Lucy would come and sit with me. I feel rather lonely without mother or Emily, as I can neither read nor write but a few minutes at a time. He answered, "No!" decidedly. "I want to see somebody," I said. "How should you enjoy a visit from Aunt Susy?" I almost jumped from my chair. This made him decide at once that she would not do. He said "You must rest, mind and body, in order to get well." _Tuesday, July 28th._ Yesterday afternoon I had arisen from my bed after a refreshing nap, and was seated in my easy chair by the window, when Frank came up stairs talking with some one whose voice I did not recognize, until she said, "I had hoped ere this to see thee at our house. Thee must come before Elizabeth goes;" and Friend Estes kindly advanced toward me, "I am truly sorry to see thee ill, my dear." I tried to rise, and take her bonnet; but Frank said, she was his company, and he would do the honors. He took the friendly "poke," and carried it to the bed, where he spread a napkin carefully over it. I looked in surprise; but the good lady smiled as she said, "Thy husband is well acquainted with friendly ways." "I am sorry to leave such good company," he said, "but I have work enough for the afternoon." He was just leaving the room, when she detained him a moment, to ask whether Thomas Jones had recovered, and whether his family were in need of assistance. Frank replied that Thomas would soon be able to go to his work; until then, they were supported by charity. There is something composing and soothing in the very voice and manner of the Friends. Certainly this is true with regard to my dear Friend Estes. "Does thee like to have thy hair smoothed, my daughter? because I should love to do it for thee." I said, I should like it very much, if she would let me sit before her, as I used to sit before my dear mother. She brought me a cricket, and I sat down and laid my head in her lap, where, for nearly an hour she passed her smooth hand lovingly across my forehead and hair. At the same time she discoursed so sweetly, that the afternoon passed too quickly away. If her conversation had not been so interesting, I should certainly have been lulled to sleep. She told me of her daughter Elizabeth, who is soon to be married to a worthy young man every way approved by her parents, and the meeting.