And all who have seen her in trial and sickness will testify to the reality and power of this persuasion. The account, to which we have already adverted, of their experiences during this first year at Cambridge, through her own illness and that of her husband, is contained in a letter written on the evening of the first Sabbath that Mr. Ware was able to preach in the College Chapel, when she also was able to hear him. "_Cambridge, October 2, 1831._ "MY DEAR NANCY:-- "Were you ever so weak as to omit doing a thing which you strongly desired to do, entirely because you knew you could not do it thoroughly to your own satisfaction? If you have been, you can better understand than I can describe the many foolish feelings which have, from time to time, and a hundred times, made me throw down my pen and say to myself, 'I cannot write to her now; I have not time to say half I wish to say, or she to hear.' It is just so now; I knew all the time it was wrong to do so, and now I am determined to turn over a new leaf with myself, at the commencement of this new year of my life; and as your spirit has haunted my conscience more than any other, I begin by laying it with the spell of my fairy pen. But where shall I begin? I cannot remember where I left off, or rather do not know what you have heard from others since I left you a year ago. "Of my winter's sickness I cannot write; it contained a long life of enjoyment, and what I hoped would prove profitable thought and reflection. I came out of my nest almost reluctantly, for I had a dread of the absorbing power of worldly cares and interests; and for a long time my head remained so weak that I suffered from the necessity of giving my whole mind to the trifling occupations of daily life in order to perform them with tolerable decency. This has been a bane to my comfort throughout the summer; and although I have had Harriet Hall and Mary Ware, and many of those I rejoiced to see, again around me, I have not profited much by the privilege, my mind having all its capacity more than employed by the care of our bodies. This was very humiliating for one to whom all the outward cares of life have been mere play-work; but I could contrive to keep externally quiet, and not appear fidgety; so I try to think this was conquest enough for me in my then state of weakness. The heat prostrated me very much. I began to fear I should never be able to do any two things at once again. But since my family has returned to its usual size, and the cool days of autumn have sent their invigorating influences to my bodily powers, my mind improves 'a little, not much' (as my Rob says fifty times a day). Literally, I could not write a letter through the whole summer; and now the task