of many instances of outbreaking passion.  I am ashamed to say how recently the last real tempest occurred, but I will not spare myself.  It was in the spring of 1838, and I did not eat anything for so long that I was ill in bed and barely escaped a fever.  Mother nursed me so tenderly that, though she forgave me, I never shall forgive myself.  Since then I should not wish you to suppose that I have been perfectly amiable, but for the last year I think I have been enabled in a measure to control my temper, but of that you know more than I do, as you had a fair specimen of what I am when with us last summer.  It has often been a source of encouragement to me that everybody said I was gentle and amiable till my father’s death, when I was nine years old....  While reading to-night that chapter in Mark, where it speaks of Jesus as walking on the sea, I was interested in thinking how frequently such scenes occur in our spiritual passage over the sea which is finally to land us on the shores of the home for which we long.  “While they were toiling in rowing,” Jesus went to them upon the water and “would have passed by” till He heard their cries, and then He manifested Himself unto them saying, "It is I." And when He came to them, the wind ceased and they “wondered.”  Surely we have often found in our toiling that Jesus was passing by and ready at the first trembling fear to speak the word of love and of consolation and to give us the needed help, and then to leave us wondering indeed at the infinite tenderness and kindness so unexpectedly vouchsafed for our relief.

Feb. 13th—­I do not think we should make our enjoyment of religion the greatest end of our struggle against sin.  I never once had such an idea.  I think we should fight against sin simply because it is something hateful to God, because it is something so utterly unlike the spirit of Christ, whom it is our privilege to strive to imitate in all things.  On all points connected with the love I wish to give my Saviour, and the service I am to render Him, I feel that I want teaching and am glad to obtain assistance from any source.  I hardly know how to answer your question.  I do not have that constant sense of the Saviour’s presence which I had here for a long time, neither do I feel that I love Him as I thought I did, but it is not always best to judge of ourselves by our feelings, but by the general principle and guiding desire of the mind.  I do think that my prevailing aim is to do the will of God and to glorify Him in everything.  Of this I have thought a great deal of late.  I have not a very extensive sphere of action, but I want my conduct, my every word and look and motion, to be fully under the influence of this desire for the honor of God.  You can have no idea of the constant observation to which I am exposed here.

Feb. 21st.—­I spent three hours this afternoon in taking care of a little black child (belonging to the house), who is very ill, and as I am not much used to such things, it excited and worried me into a violent nervous headache.  I finished Brainerd’s Life this afternoon, amid many doubts as to whether I ever loved the Lord at all, so different is my piety from that of this blessed and holy man.  The book has been a favorite with me for years, but I never felt the influence of his life as I have while reading it of late.