It is fourteen years, I think, since I was christened in St. James'
Church, by Rev. William Armstrong, whose voice I always loved to hear in
the beautiful service of our church. I was confirmed by Bishop John
Fredricton, in Trinity Church. I well remember the pressure of that
reverend hand upon my head, and the impressive words of his address to
us who were that day received into the church--"Let your inner life be
as good or better than your outer life, if you would be worthily known
as His children." He desired the young men in particular to take up some
useful study, to occupy their leisure hours--something outside of their
every-day business of life. What better words could have been said; I
would that the young men of the present day should often hear those
words and accept them as a rule of their life. I float away from
thoughts of my insanity to the days when I was at home going to church
with my children. I must return to my subject.

They brought the table to my bedside; I kept my eyes closed; I received
the bread from the hand of one son, and the wine from the hand of the
other. I tasted it, and my fast was broken. I discovered, to my great
surprise, it was only toast and tea. They had improved upon my wish, and
thought to feed me, their poor wasted mother. They dressed me for the
journey; I would not assist them any; they had not obeyed my wish to be
left alone in my room all winter; so, when I yielded to them, I left all
for them to do; the only thing I did myself was to take from the closet
this grey flannel dress--I had made it for traveling, before I left
Lowell for Old Orchard. They did not seem to know what they were doing.
I had two bonnets, but they never mentioned them, as I remember. They
left my night-cap on, and tied a silk handkerchief over it. They carried
me down stairs in their arms, and lifted me in the coach. After we were
on our way in the cars, I found my hair was hanging down my back; I had