"The hand of the Lord had touched us, and we were ready to sink; but the same kind hand sustained us. May the same Almighty Father strengthen you. One thought comforted me not a little. 'If brother Thomas had gone home to our father's house in Massachusetts, I should not have grieved much; and now he had gone to his Father's and our Father's home in Heaven, why should I mourn so bitterly? I felt that God had a right to call him when he pleased, and I saw his mercy, in sparing my husband to me a little longer, when he was but a step from the eternal world. Still, I felt that I had lost a brother, and _such a brother_! "Before I went to Lac-qui-parle, I had confided Alfred to his special care. I knew that the rejection of our offer of stopping at the Little Rapids, by the Indians there, had been exceedingly painful and discouraging to Mr. Riggs, and the rumor that the Indians here would do likewise was no less so; and I should have felt very unpleasantly in going for Isabella at that time, but it seemed necessary, and I felt that brother Thomas would be, what he was, 'a friend in need.' On my return, on recounting the scenes I had passed through, the killing by the Chippewas of the eldest brother of one of our young men, as he was coming to meet him--the shooting of one of our horses by a Sioux man, who pretended to be offended because we did not pursue the Chippewas, when we were more than three miles from the mission, and that I carried Martha there in my arms, one of the warmest afternoons we had--Thomas said, 'I see you have grown poor, but you will improve from this time.' "On Saturday morning, as we were busily engaged near each other, he sang, 'Our cabin is small and coarse our fare, But love has spread our banquet here!' Soon afterward he went to bathe, and of course our roof and floor remained unfinished, but that evening we terminated in sadness what had been to us a happy feast of tabernacles, by moving into our humble dwelling. For a little while on Sabbath, his remains found a resting-place within the house his hands had reared. I kissed his cheek as he lay upon a plank resting on that large red chest and box which were sent from home, but, owing to the haste and excitement, I did not think to take a lock of hair. It curled as beautifully as ever, although dripping with water, and the countenance was natural, I thought, but it has rather dimmed my recollections of him as he was when living. I felt so thankful that his body had been found before any great change had taken place, that gratitude to God supplanted my grief while we buried him. Mr. Huggins and Fanny sang an Indian hymn made from the 15th chapter of First Corinthians, and then, 'Unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb.' We came _home_ just after sunset. It is but a little distance from our dwelling, and in the same 'garden of roses,' as Thomas called it, where he now sleeps." * * * * *