"Mr. Burrows came, and talked sweetly to me of my privilege as a christian in giving all to God, and prayed with us; else, during this week sorrow and joy have mingled in my breast, but now I feel to rise.--Mrs. R. having agreed to meet with me to intercede for my dear Richard and Mary Ann, I went up accompanied by Mrs. W.--the Lord blessed us together.--I feel encouraged.--A very stormy morning. This led me to my knees, to pour out my soul for my son and daughter: O keep them in the hollow of Thy hands! William has not yet returned from seeing Richard off; I want to hear and know--yet am encouraged to hope all will be well.--Days of suspense--but the thought, 'all is well,' encouraged me; this was realised, when William returned in the afternoon. 'Bless the Lord, O my soul,' and praise His adorable name. My dear Richard sent me a letter, written when sailing down the Thames, in which he says, 'The Lord is with us, we will not fear.' "Sinnington. After the morning prayer-meeting, I called upon several of the villagers, who kindly welcomed our visit. Prayed with every family but one, and in each case felt the softening power. Spoke plainly with Mr. B. respecting the alienation existing between him and ----. O that they would seriously resolve!--A very stormy day, but braving the blast, I visited two or three friends, to have a last interview with them; in one case to invite a person to join the people of God; in another, to urge the necessity of family-prayer; a third was a young person apparently in dying circumstances, and a fourth was a quaker friend, whose disinterested friendship endears her to me.--Visited the Lady Mayoress at the Mansion House, and felt quite at ease. Had an opportunity of dropping a word in her ear, which she seemed to receive kindly." The noontide hour is wont to be A blessed means of grace to me; When met, the hallowing power to share, In the sweet intercourse of prayer. "Was drawn out in prayer for myself and others until a late hour, and was much blest. After I had retired and had been asleep, I awoke with these lines: 'Soft and easy is Thy pillow, Coarse and hard the Saviour lay; Since His birthplace was a stable, And His softest bed was hay.' My pillow seemed softer than usual, and my soul was happy.--Very stormy." [Such notes of the weather repeatedly occur at this period, but nothing more: her thoughts were after Richard, but her feelings were too intense for expression. To a friend she remarked, that for six months after her son's departure, she dared not touch, the subject. 'I cannot write upon it,' she said, 'I am obliged to leave it.']