"_Boston, December 31, 1836._ _Saturday Night._ "MY DEAR N----: "What a crowd of recollections rush upon my mind as I date this letter! It is nine years since I have affixed 'Boston' to this annual epistle; and the last 'Saturday night' which found me thus occupied was eleven years ago, at _Osmotherly_, 1825; and the last time I wrote the whole date was to a note which accompanied a pair of pegged gloves which I sat up till midnight to finish for your brother, in 1814. What an interesting and varied picture do these dates present to my mind's eye, and how many remembrances are associated with them of joy and sorrow, of trial and happiness! I could willingly spend hours in recalling all in detail, and I feel as if it would do us both good, should I do so; for I find that, in the full occupation of the present, the lessons of the past are losing their power over me. Their voice cannot be heard in the busy bustle of life; and it is only at a few favored moments like these, when all creation within and around us pauses, as it were, before taking another onward step towards eternity, that we can hear their distant, solemn murmur. It is good, then, to turn our hearts to the teaching, and to fix in them more deeply the warning and encouragement which we may thus receive.... "I have been led lately to think more than usual of the past, by Mrs. B----'s death. I believe I do not exaggerate when I rest in the idea that she was a woman of rare powers to interest and influence those around her. My own recollections bring with them a sense of almost romantic enthusiasm with regard to her; and I am quite sure that I owe as much of my conception of the _loveliness_ of a truly religious being to her exhibition of it, as to any one other source. With the thought of her in her glory, comes the remembrance of many who have been taken from time to time from our communion; and it amazes me to find how large is their number. How soon will it be, that it will become a rare thing to meet one of the companions of our childhood!... Perhaps I generalize too much from my own individual experience; but I find it so difficult to keep before my eyes the uncertainty of life, or to feel as I would do the _reality_ of the spiritual world, so busy am I with the occupations of this material one, that I should like to be recalled to the subject by some irresistible voice every hour of the day. "I have spent this evening in our old church at the North End, for the first time upon this occasion since I lived in Sheafe Street, when Henry preached; and as I look back upon the experience I have had since that time, it seems to me I have little hope of ever being what I ought to be, when all this has had so little effect.