only child, is the object of her constant cherishing care. Years have elapsed since she has left him scarcely for an evening, and she receives calls only during those hours in the afternoon, when he regularly takes rest upon his bed. She is ever in attendance upon him; cheering him by the recital of passing events, and pouring into his spirit the fresher life of her own. The faithful performance of such high and holy duty contains within itself its own reward. I cannot withhold a sweet picture drawn by her pen, though sensible that she had no intention of its meeting the public eye. "My father," she writes, "is a splendid old man, with a most noble head, a fine countenance full of benevolence and love, hair of silvery whiteness, and a complexion like winter berries. I suppose there was never a more beautiful embodiment of healthful and virtuous old age. He possesses all his faculties with the most vigorous clearness, but his health suffers, and my time is almost entirely devoted to his service, waiting upon him and reading to him by night and by day.
"He was affected at your message, and sends his blessing to you and yours. How to promote his comfort in his advanced years and increasing infirmities occupies most of my thoughts. It is my privilege to make many sacrifices to this blessed duty; for with my dearest father, should I be so unhappy as to survive him, will depart all that binds me to this world."
