In 1844 my father served as pastor of the Simsbury church, giving his services that the church might free itself from debt, which it did. He conducted during all those years a Bible class of ladies in the Sunday School, by whom he was greatly appreciated and beloved. The Sabbaths of those early days were far from being "days of rest" to my father and mother. They were obliged to rise early to get the family ready for church, leaving home at about half-past nine for the two-mile ride to Hopmeadow. Then the two services with Sunday School between, and the drive home occupied the time till four P. M. Then my mother had to prepare the warm supper, and when all was over it was nearly time for the evening prayers, which were never omitted. Not until the restless children were in bed and soothed to sleep by the sweet hymns she used to sing to us, was there a moment of quiet rest for the dear mother. My father at that time always drove to Hopmeadow for the evening service, and later one or two of the older children were allowed to go with him. In pleasant weather, when my father was absent on his preaching tours, my mother would take such of the children as were old enough, and walk to church on Sabbath mornings, leaving the little ones with her friend Mrs. Whitehead. One of the chief pleasures of that early time was the receipt of letters from the dear mother and sisters left behind, for letters were indeed like angels' visits then. They were full of tender memories and loving messages for the dear ones over the sea. One of my most cherished mementos is a letter written to my mother by my Grandmother Osler in October, 1839, in which she speaks of her joy in hearing of our safe arrival and settlement in our new home and of how much she missed my mother, and her affectionate longing to see the children who were so dear to her. She says,-- "Kiss the three darling children for me. I cannot express my love for them and you, nor my feelings on account of the great distance between us. I shed many tears in reading your much valued letter over and over again. You are all generally uppermost in my thoughts, and I find you wanting more than I can describe. I am very glad you like the appearance of the country and that you were so kindly received. I hope the winters will be more mild than we expected, and that by the blessing of the Almighty you will all be happy and comfortable. Oh! how I would love to see my beloved little Mary, and my darling little Joseph, who seems inclined to remember me by expecting to find me in his new home, and I should have been much pleased to see my dear, sweet, pretty little Susan take to run off, but suppose the misfortune of pulling the hot tea over into her tender bosom put her back some time. Pretty dear! I used to love them all as if they were my own." She goes on to speak of her health and prospects, and in closing says,--