A year after my marriage, the friend of my childhood and the intimate correspondent of my girl-life, was married to Rev. William Campbell, the pastor of “Mount Carmel,” the pretty country church in which my forebears and contemporaries had worshipped for generations, the church for which my great-grandfather gave the land; in which he was the first ordained elder, and in which my beloved “Cousin Joe” (“Uncle Archie”) had succeeded him in the same office. In Mount Carmel I had taken my first Communion, and here the new wife of the pastor was to be welcomed into full fellowship with her husband’s flock in November. My husband was invited by Mr. Campbell to take the service on that day, and I was warmly pressed to accompany him. “CHARLOTTE C. H., _November 8th, 1857._ “MY OWN DEAR FRIEND,—A fact overlooked by Mr. Terhune and myself, occurred to me a little while ago—_viz._, that there is only a semi-weekly mail to Smithville. Therefore, to insure your reception of this in season at Montrose, it should go from this place to-morrow. It was Mr. Terhune’s intention to drop a line to Mr. Campbell to-night; but I have begged that I might write to you instead. “I have many and bright hopes for you. Hopes, not ‘as lovely as baseless,’ but founded upon a knowledge of your character and that of him whom God has given you as your other and stronger self. When I rejoiced in your union, it was with sincere and full delight. You have a mate worthy of you—one whom you love, and who loves you. What more does the woman’s heart crave? You have chosen wisely, and happiness, such as you have never known before, must follow. “Will you not come up and see us this winter? Nothing would give me more pleasure than to see you in our dear little home. “Mr. Terhune is very anxious that I should accompany him to Powhatan, but I dare not suffer my mind to dwell upon a project so charming. He cannot, all at once, get used to visiting without me, but in the crib, over in the corner, lies an insurmountable obstacle—tiny to view, but which may not be set aside. “I wish you could see my noble boy, who will be two months old to-morrow! He is very pretty, says the infallible ‘Everybody.’ To us, he is passing dear. Already he recognizes us and frolics by the half-hour with us, laughing and cooing—the sweetest music that ever sounded through our hearts and home. Nothing but the extreme inconvenience attendant upon travelling and visiting with so young a child, prevents me from accompanying the Reverend gentleman....