It was at this time that one Christmas my two daughters were cojointly presented with a large, splendid, and well-illustrated copy of "The Pilgrim’s Progress"—a book that attracted them so much that they have been reading it ever since! This glorious book kindled up all the latent enthusiasm of their souls, and in their excitement over "Doubting Castle," "Vanity Fair," and a hundred other wonders, they even wrote letters to their father about that wonderful book and its author—the tinker and preacher of Bedford. Their youthful enthusiasm amused their father very much, and he wrote back to them at once to read all in the Pilgrim’s Progress that they wanted. They used to take turns with the book; one would read for an hour at a time, and the other would listen. I have always looked back upon the coming of that book into my house as a real blessing. And still we always continued to attend the ordinances of our sweet little Church on Vine street—attended them on the Sabbath and during the week. The girls went to the Sunday School, and we adults assisted all that we could. As Niagara Falls were not more than twenty-two miles away, we all occasionally took a holiday and went down and spent the day there, crossing over to the Canadian shore by way of the Suspension Bridge, that we might stand on Table Rock and see the great "Horseshoe Fall." Well, really, the Falls of Niagara are a wonderful sight. Even our own smaller American Fall is a splendid sight, though rather diminutive compared with the great Horseshoe Fall on the Canadian side of the river. I can never understand how a mere puny man can stand before the great Creator’s works here, and say, "There is no God." During the fall of 1864, I took my two daughters and went as far as Oxford county, Canada, to pay a visit to a dear family with whom I became acquainted in Buffalo. The weather was most delightful, and we enjoyed ourselves very much indeed during the month we remained on the farm. At that time I wrote the following letter to Tom, and will here introduce it, as it will speak for itself: "RICHMOND HILL, Oxford Co., Canada, Sept., 1864. "To Captain Thomas Lincoln,