“I must send thee one line, dearest Catherine, to tell thee what a remarkable day of interest we passed on Sunday. Our dearest Edward read the service in Well Walk in the morning and in the evening preached. It was deeply interesting, and I longed to have my heart melted in love and gratitude. Such heartfelt satisfaction to have this dear child so devoted, and adorned with so childlike, lovely, and devoted a spirit, and thus enabled in our own chapel, amongst our friends and neighbours, to proclaim with grace and fervour the great salvation of the Gospel of Christ! This appeared to me to be remarkably the case with him, and, independent of a mother’s feelings, his countenance and manner, his manly grace and childlike humility and simplicity, were striking. The congregation had, I believe, much fellow-feeling with us, and the expression of it from different friends has been touching to us. Never was I less disposed to boast, and deeply can unite in that expression ‘Where is boasting?—It is excluded’; and yet I _long_ to say with the Psalmist, ‘My soul shall make her boast in the Lord,’ and in the blessing He has been pleased to vouchsafe. Of course we feel the prospect of parting with Edward; one of the many cheering points in the prospect is his vicinity to Earlham, and to thee and our dearest brother. How kind has Joseph been to him, and what an opportune visit was his last to Earlham! “I went to see Anna Tooten yesterday at Tottenham, as I had left Upton before the arrival of thy letter. Catherine has been very much cast down lately, and I am but a poor helper. The dear babes are with me to-day, while their mother is in Devonshire Street. “My dearest brother and sister, nephew and niece, and dear Rachel included, I know they will all unite with us in the interest of Edward. “Your truly affectionate “L. H.” Autobiography (_continued_). It was not long afterwards that I went to my curacy. Pakefield was a bleak village on the top of a cliff, and I never shall forget what the guard on the coach said to me as I was approaching it for the first time. I had complained of cold, and he said to me, “Don’t talk about the cold yet; wait till you get to Pakefield—there you catches it genuine!” And so we did. Aye, and I witnessed many a gale of wind, and during the year that I was curate, there were no less than fifty shipwrecks off the coast of my own parish.