I will say it to these pages, because I feel it so bitterly sometimes, and cannot speak it out here without offense, that there is too much of the “tearing open of the rosebud” in talking with those who are seeking the truth. Some are thought to be indifferent or untrue, because they will not speak of their deepest feelings to anybody who asks them. It is a shameful mistake; it must accompany a low standard of delicacy, to say the least. Let me not call that pride or obstinacy, which is the heart’s natural reserve! The deeper depths of the soul are sacred to one Eye alone, and so much as a shrinking soul may reveal to a friend, it will. I would discourage too free a conversation about one’s own feelings; it is dissipating, except where a burdened soul _must_ pour out itself to another for sympathy. Why cannot we leave our friends to find God in the silence of the soul, since there is His abode? March 11. We have had victories by sea and land. To-night the news comes that Manassas is occupied by our troops. The “Merrimac” has made a dash from Norfolk, and destroyed two of our war vessels; but the little iron-clad “Monitor” appeared and drove her back. The coast of Florida is forsaken by the rebels, and our troops are taking possession. Everything is working for us now; and it seems as if the rebellion must soon be strangled. Sometimes it seems to me as if these events were happening in a foreign country, they touch me and mine so little in a way that we immediately feel. This has been a day of “clearing up,” and domestic reforms are never poetical. Taking down pictures and books, and finding one’s self reminded of neglected favorites by heaps of dust, lost mementos coming up from forgotten corners,--after all, there is some sentiment in it; and, in the midst of it, three letters, two of them touching my heart-strings right powerfully. I have learned to live with a trusting heart and a willing hand from day to day, and I have not a wish for more, except that I might be able to help others as I am not now able. If it is rest that is before me, I dare not take it until I am more weary than now;--a _home_ would withdraw me from the opportunity of educating my nieces, perhaps. No! there can be nothing but single-handed work for others before me; anything else would be but a temptation, and perhaps one that I should not be able to bear. I would be kept safe from everything but a plain opening to the life of self-sacrifice in the footsteps of our one true Guide! I will trust Him for all, and be at rest from the dread of too much sunshine, as well as from fear of storms. He knows what I need.