Uncle’s circumstances are very different to my father’s--this is true. He is a very wealthy and distinguished man. Yet if he were as poor as my father--he would never mind this--he would keep Truth close beside him wherever he went, in whatever action he performed, in whatever words he spake. This would make him free and strong, indeed; and the freedom and strength would lay hold on success. Thus, in seeking first the kingdom of heaven, all these things for which the poor man seeks now first, and last, and at all times, would without pains-taking on his part, be added unto him. Would that he could see it--would that he were more quiet--happier! for I pity him so! And I have seen men poorer than he, and less distinguished in learning and in an agreeable exterior, whom I cannot, by any view of their condition, bring myself to commiserate, any more than I can commiserate Christ. And you know, dear Edith, we may look at his life on earth as we will, at the hunger, the dusty journeyings, the thorns, the spear, the bitter cup, the blind revilings that came with them all, and the death of shame and lengthened agony, still it fills our hearts with praise--it is the sublimest destiny ever fulfilled on the earth! I will tell you what I desire more and more; what I desire now, at this still hour, above every other thing--and this is, to be so much like Christ, as to attain a _perfect_ mastery of myself, so that none of the outward things shall move me. Christ’s excellence lay in this--did you ever think of it? Proffered crowns and kingdoms, the trammels of time-honored usages, threats at his side and a cross before him, all fell short of moving his soul. This never swerved a hair’s breadth from its high purpose, from beginning to end. And I would be able to look out from a quiet, inward life, and say to the world--“Poor world! enslaved and enslaving! Struggling, vain world; we love thee, we pity thee--poor world! We would die for thee, if the time might come when our blood would have the efficacy of a good martyr’s in healing thee. But we bow to thee, we follow thee, take up thy mummeries no more. For within us, the life breathed into us of God, the life that is divine and glorious--far beyond all that thou hast to offer, comes gently forward for its development into our daily thought and action. Poor world! _dear_ world! after this, the God of the true life helping us, while with thee we are above thee!” But, my dear child Edith, I remember that you like short sermons, while, on the other hand, tales may be ever so long, ever so often told. I have no tale for you yet. We will wait and see what will come hereafter. Thine, dear, Monde Hedelquiver. CHAPTER II. MONDE HEDELQUIVER TO EDITH MANNERS. _Danville, Dec. 15, 1851._