THY DAUGHTER. N. B.--I think perhaps I ought to tell thee about a letter I have recently had from F. A. A kind letter, but with a tone of flattery that I do not quite like, nor, indeed, understand. He speaks as if I was much in his thought and--can it be, dear mother, that I gave him a wrong impression of my friendship? My cheeks burn as I write this, but it is delightful to know good Edward H. was thoroughly inspired--through my mere suggestion that these are serious times--to do a great deal of honest thinking. I shall be right glad to welcome him within our home! UNCLE JOSEPH. One of the prominent figures in our meeting house for many years was that of Uncle Joseph--for thus was he known by the young and old who frequented our religious gatherings. He occupied the second seat in the men’s gallery--and it was with him that the Elder shook hands in sign that Friends should separate, when it seemed likely that the spirit would move no others to utter gentle words of blessing or stern warning against the wiles of the tempter. As children we regarded Uncle Joseph in the light of a patriarch, although I now know that his years, at the time of which I write, had scarce reached the limit of a half century. He was a comely man, straight and tall, his smooth-shaven face beaming with good nature, and his soft blue eye lighted with sympathy, but he was not intellectual. Slow of movement and uncertain in expression, his hearers were often troubled to follow his excellent thought, and it was no uncommon thing for my parents to refer to his ministrations as being “labored.” We had a consciousness, based perhaps upon accidental knowledge, that he was uncommonly well to do, and also that there was considerable feeling in the society that Sarah Sidney, with her clear insight and facile speech, would be a fit life companion for the good man. But time wore on and there seemed no likelihood of a realization of this desire. I can remember one occasion when the subject really assumed the importance that is usually given to gossip, but it was so lovingly and conscientiously touched upon that I was greatly impressed. My father and mother were in the way of inviting many friends to dine with them on monthly meeting day. Quarterly meeting brought even more persons from a distance, and among the children little unaccustomed duties were distributed. I was frequently desired to remain for a time in the front chamber and assist our women visitors in removing their wraps and adjusting the cap crowns that often met with disaster beneath the stiff bonnets. It was always a pleasurable duty, for Friends never forget the young, and as each one grasped my little palm, she did not neglect to speak an encouraging word.