My baby is two months old, and her name is Ethel. The three children
together form a beautiful picture which I am never tired of admiring.
But they will not give me much time for writing. This little new
comer takes all there, is of me. Mother brings me pleasant reports of
Miss Clifford, who under her gentle, wise influence is becoming an
earnest Christian, already rejoicing in the Providence that arrested
her where it did, and forced her to reflection. Mother says we ought
to study God's providence more than we do since He has a meaning and
a purpose in everything He does. Sometimes I can do this and find it
a source of great happiness. Then worldly cares seem mere worldly
cares, and I forget that His wise, kind hand is in every one of them.
FEBRUARY.-Helen has been spending the whole day with me, as she often
does, helping me with her skillful needle, and with the children, in
a very sweet way. I am almost ashamed to indulge in writing down how
dearly she seems to love me, and how disposed she is to sit at my
feet as a learner at the very moment I am longing to possess her
sweet, gentle temper. But one thing puzzles me, in her, and that is
the difficulty she finds in getting hold of these simple truths her
father used to grope after but never found till just as he was
passing out of the world. It seems as if God had compensated such
turbulent, fiery natures as mine, by revealing Himself to them, for
the terrible hours of shame and sorrow through which their sins and
follies cause them to pass.
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