We have sometimes thought it would be well if all parishioners, those especially who are quick to discern the failings and slow to understand the labors of their pastor, could spend a few weeks in his house, and get some idea of the variety, complexity, arduousness, and endlessness of his duties. But from the picture which Mrs. Ware gives of the life at Cambridge, we should infer that the engagements and interruptions of most parishes were light in the comparison. "I used to think Boston life a very busy and irregular one; but our life here is far more so. There, there were some hours in the day in which, from conventional custom, one was secure of being quiet. But here, neither early hours nor late, neither rain nor tempest, are any security against interruption; and often, very often, does a whole day pass without either my husband or myself having one moment for our own occupations, or even a chance to exchange a single sentence of recognition. I do not complain of this, for it is inevitable. I must believe it is our appointed duty. But it seems sometimes a most unprofitable mode of passing away life; at least it is very difficult to make progress in the things one most desires, when our time and our thoughts are so little at our own disposal." Still, amid all these calls and cares, the "journal" continues, and full sheets of companion-like narration or maternal counsel go to the schoolboy at Framingham, who is having some of the trials of school-life, petty, but serious. "Dear John, it is time you had another letter, and I am very glad to be able to write you one; it is the next best thing to sitting down by you and having a good chat. I should very much like to look in upon you, and know exactly how you get along. I hope you will continue to bear any provocation you may receive with perfect quietness and forbearance. Such conduct as you describe is not worthy of notice; and if you persevere in doing right, and show no arrogance or pride about it, you will gain their respect in time, that is, of all who are worth gaining. I am very glad you have Mr. Abbot's book (The Young Christian). I thought of you when I was reading it, and felt as if it would be very useful to you. You will find much in it which you never thought of, and much of which you will see a counterpart within yourself, if you examine yourself faithfully. It seemed to me, while reading it, that I was looking into a glass which reflected myself; for I have lived long enough to know more about myself than I used to at your age, and I often wish that I had had such looking-glasses then; I should, I think, have been saved many a feeling of self-reproach, and many a foolish and sinful action. You can hardly imagine now how great a blessing you possess in the watchful care which is extended over you by your dear father; may it never be withdrawn from you until you have learned to guide yourself by the high and holy principles of Christian virtue!"