_4th Mo. 17th_. How short-lived were the feelings
I recorded at the close of last week! I believe an
earnest talk with a chatty caller on minor matters,
recalled my heart that same evening from its happy
abiding-place. I have thought of the words, "Jesus
Christ _the end_ of your conversation," and fear he is
but a _by-end_ of mine. It is hard to analyze our
feelings: perhaps when discomfort from excitement
and discontent is greatest, my sin is no greater than
when in listless apathy and earthly-mindedness my
thoughts are bounded by the seen and the temporal.

_5th Mo. 24th_. A solemn warning from Uncle R.
on Fifth-day did me good. I was blessed with some
degree of ability to use the words, "Into Thy hands
I commit my spirit," and though I feared to add,
"Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord of truth," in its
full sense, yet I have felt how precious were the
words, "as unto a _faithful_ Creator." Oh, does He
not say in _these_ days, "Open thy mouth wide, and I
will fill it"? Is His hand shortened at all? Can
we not have faith in our principles?

The following lines were written about this, time, in allusion to the
marriage of her eldest, sister, and the funeral of John Wadge, an old
and valued friend of the family. It was hoped that the cactus which
had belonged to J.W. would have blossomed in time for the wedding; but
the first flower only opened a fortnight afterwards, on the morning of
his own funeral: and when, in a few years, the marriage of the beloved