after everybody else was completely weary.  She finally became so violent and ungovernable, and endangered the household so much in her frantic fits, that even he felt the necessity of placing her under the restraining influences of some public institution.  The Magdalen Asylum at Philadelphia consented to receive her, and after much exhortation, she was persuaded to go.  While she was there, his daughters in that city called on her occasionally, at his request, and he and his wife made her a visit.  He wrote to her frequently, in the kindest and most encouraging manner.  In one of these epistles, he says:  “I make frequent inquiries concerning thee, and am generally told thou art getting along pretty well.  Now I want to hear a different tale from that.  I want thy friends at the Asylum to be able to say, ’She is doing exceedingly well.  Her health is good, she is satisfied with her condition, and we are all much gratified to find that she submits to the advice of her friends.’  When they can speak thus of thee, I shall begin to think about changing thy situation.  The woman who fills thy place in my family does very well.  Every day, she puts on the table the mug thou gavest me, and she keeps it as bright as silver.  Our little garden looks beautiful.  The Morning Glories, thou used to take so much pleasure in, have grown finely.  All the family desire kind remembrances.  Farewell.  May peace and comfort be with thee.”

In another letter, he says:  “Thy Heavenly Father has been kind, and waited long for thee; and He has now provided a way for thy redemption from the bondage under which thou hast suffered so much.  I hope thou wilt not think of leaving the Asylum for some time to come.  Thou canst not be so firmly established yet, as not to be under great temptation elsewhere.  What a sorrowful circumstance it would be, if thou shouldst again return to the filthy and wicked habit of stupifying thyself with that pernicious drug!  I am glad thou hast determined to take my advice.  If thou wilt do so, I will never forsake thee.  I will do all I can for thee; and thou shalt never be without a home.”

Again he writes:  “Thy letter occasioned joy and sorrow.  Sorrow to find thou hast not always treated the matron as thou oughtest to have done.  I am sure that excellent person is every way worthy of thy regard; and I hope my ears will never again be pained by hearing that thou hast treated her unkindly or disrespectfully.  I did hope that after a year’s discipline, thou hadst learned to control thy temper.  Until thou canst do so, thou must be aware that thou art not qualified to render thyself useful or agreeable in any family.  But after all, I am glad to find that thou art sensible of thy error, and hast a disposition to improve.  When thou liest down at night, I want thee to examine the deeds of the past day.  If thou hast made a hasty reply, or spoken impertinently, or done wrong in any other way, be careful to acknowledge thy fault.  Ask thy Heavenly Father to forgive thee, and be careful to do so no more.  I feel a great regard for thee; and I trust thou wilt never give me cause to regret thy relapse into vice.  I hope better things for thee, and I always shall.”