"_January 16, 1842._ I have been prevented by all sorts of things from finishing this; it is not worth while to enumerate them. I will only say, that for the last fortnight I have had little thought or time for any thing but preparing my husband for a six weeks' absence. Not that I had so very much to do for him (although it is a different thing to poor folks, to live where their clothes can be mended every day, or must go without mending for six weeks); but he has been very unwell lately, and I am so little accustomed to the idea of his going away sick without going with him, that I found it very hard to bring my mind to submit to it. I did not feel quite clear whether it would be right to let him go, in the hope that change of scene and occupation would do him good, or to prevent it from fear that the necessity of the case would tempt him to exert himself, whether he was able or not. However, he has gone; and went too upon the anniversary of dear Dr. Follen's loss. But I have heard of his safe arrival in pretty good case, and I hope for the best. Yet I am a very baby at the prospect of so long a separation. Truly one's affections do not become blunted by age,--do they?" What _her_ affections were appears in the letter which she had already written to her husband,--written in fact the very night of the day he left her; for her heart was full. Its quick, keen sensibilities told her that this was more than a common parting. Seldom had Mr. Ware gone from home since they were married, without being sick, or without her going to him. And though she had not the least superstition, nor even indulged gloomy apprehensions, she held herself ready for the worst, and saw reason at this time to expect some decided result from such a journey in mid-winter, with all that had preceded it. Before she slept, therefore, she gave utterance to the emotions--prayers and blessings we might call them--which were yearning within her. "_Cambridge, January 12, 1842, 1/2 past 11._ "DEAR HENRY:--