Summer is fast waning—a year has passed since my blessed mother died. What agony I suffered then, and how wildly I wished for death. So lonely and cheerless seemed my future without her sweet smile and heart-cheering words. But Heaven has raised up dear friends to me, and has granted unto me a sweet peaceful frame of mind. My mother’s death has been hallowed unto me. Faith and resignation have been bestowed upon me. I see before me a reunion with her in another world. Now, my life-path is no longer gloomy, and I feel that I can rouse my suffering spirit. As my mother used to wish, I have learned to _act_ as well as _meditate_. I do not often permit myself to contemplate and brood over past sorrows. I do not permit myself even to take up this little book, unless I am sure my mind is in a healthy state; but when sad, languid feelings come over me, I rouse myself, and shake off the morbid sentimentality to which woman is so prone. “I hear the voice of my soul—thy actions, and thy actions alone, determine thy worth.” I practice with Adelan, read with Aunt Mary, and share my uncle’s outdoor exercises, of which he is so fond; and how happy it makes me to see that they look for my coming, and feel that every occupation must be shared with me. I know my mother would smile upon me if she were alive, and feel that I had tried to discover my mission, and perform its duties. How often I repeat to myself those lines of hers, and they give me strength. Thy earthly bonds are tightening, Thy powers are failing fast, Awake, oh! Spirit hear me, And break these chains at last. Thy angel wings are drooping, Earth clogs them all around; The spirit’s flight is heavenward, Why then to earth art bound? Why thou art banished heaven, ’Twill yield thee naught to know; Thy duties are before thee, Why sink to rest below? Earth slowly gathers o’er thee, Soon, soon thou wilt be bound, And all thy heavenly beauty In death’s strong clasp be found. The remembrance of thy heavenly life Has’t left no trace with thee? Gone, are the spirit’s longings, The sighing to be free? Oh! raise those wings of beauty, Shake off each earthly clod, And Psyche-like uprising, Seek union with thy God! * * * * *