The New York Herald Newspaper, August 15, 1874, Page 3

acts oS tte dy Yeah gems LIZABETH, WIPE, WRACHDIG HER © HILDREN TO BEVERENCE MB. BEECHER. THURSDAY MORNING, Feb, 29, 1868. My Dean Hussanp— . . . Yesterday aiter- eee moon, e out with Bella to do some erranis, nen Mr. Beecher cher. He held Flory op his lap and chatted their great delight, and leis two Tio Allee ap tuat would keep their Lands trom obappio nought that the privdege Mrs. wh enfidren ad ot the intimacy w ith Mr. B., had seemed more harm'ul than gvod—so it must not be wis0 ours. We both teach them to rever- @nee tne good man, and | believe the foundations our irieadship are $0 high and pure that 1 mean oF propriate our priviiexes to tne best growth of And you know | have a very high ideal of Qrendsbip. By-vye, Yours forever, WIFE ELIZABETH, “GER HUSBAND—HE PRAISETH HER.” FRipay AFTERNOON, Feb, 21, 1868, My OnosEN oF Mzn— .. . Oh my sweet, 738 early overrate my attainments to your jends, and create im their minds an ideal which yon know by sad experience can never be real- wed. . . . Tiink of me tenderly, but tell not of excellencies whicn have only begun to exist, for Be aineerely feel that I never knew you, and cer- nly Hot miyseif, a3 the last year has revealed. + + + Farewell. YOUR DEAR WiFE. MR. BEECHER’S “DREAMER.” TuESDAY NiGut, Feb. 23 (probably 1868). ING HUSBAND— . 1 am, a8 usual, My D. a fall of thoughts as to how it will be when again we | are gpited, Mr, b. calls me a dreamer. I hope ghey may prove realities. » Good night, YOUR DARLING, HER HUSBAND AS A FRIEND AND INSPIRER. MONDAY MoRNING, Feb. 24, 1508. My DaBuixa of Danuixcs— |. . On my beloved, 4 feel unutterable love and sympathy for you in your anguish and “heart-break,” a8 you bay. J¢is too true you have given largely, grandly and beautifully of your best love to Iri¢nds—aye, called with Hattie Benedict | | never beiore have uttered—a kin: | ing, listenin, even to your wile—while in return you have re- | getyed most often tndittevence, and, at best, love Not Geserving the name, in comparison witu thine own. Do you wonder that I couple your love, your resence and relation to me with the Saviour’st [I ft you up sacredly and keep youin that exalted and holy place, where | reverence, respect and Jove wiih the iervency of my whole being. What- | ever capacity [have | offer it you. The cronlng | lines of your letter are these words:—“I shi jerdiy venture aga upon 8 great iriendship. ‘our love shall be enough tor the remaining days.” That word “enough” seems to be a stoicism to | Know how his openin which you have resolved to live your life, but I | pray God He will supply you with (riendsbips pure, end wifely love, which ffdne great heart demands, ‘WithHolding not fimseitas the Chiei Love which gonsumeth nos, though it burn, and whose effects are always perfect ress ind peace, Again m one of your letters you close with “Faithfully yours.’ That word “faithiul” means @ wreat deal. Yes, darling, | believe it, trust it, and ve you the game surety with regard to myself— @m faithful to you, have veen altoays, and shal forever be, warld without end. Call not this assura:.ce impious. things we know—biessed be God! J sorrow more than you can for your lost friend- ship—as my sou! stings with remorse that { was tae cause—and yet, for all this, you love me. nceforth let no one point the finger at hristianity. The love which 18 in Christ #bounds in your soul, . . . STRIVINGS TOWARD HAPPINESS, HOMB PARLOR, Feb. 28, 1668. My Duangst—I have just returned from prayer- Meeting. The room was crowded and the exer- eises Of unusual interest. 1 am inclined to ap- preciate these privileges, for they are passing away. Mr. Beecher cannot many years louger epstaia, bis remarkable freshness of mind, and here can never be another who can fil his place tous. He had just returned trom Pennsylvania. Waere he has been all the week, lecturing twire. +. . Ihave not heard but once from you this week, and that was Monday. There 18 much lost in the days which bring me no word of luve. Yet I know in whom 1 trust. Your labors, and even your very absence proves your love. How much I Want to doto make you happy when you come home! I can do no great things; but ali the many little things whicn love will suggest, these will I do for my beloved. $HE BURSTS FORTH INTO A EULOGY ON HER HUS- BAND. . Home, SATURDAY EVENING, Feb. 29, 1868. Ab! did any man ever love so grandly as ify be- ved? Other iriendships, public affairs, all ‘fall to neught’? whenIcome to you! Though youare in Decorah to-night, yet I have felt your love, aud Qm very grateful for it. Ihad not received a line since Monday, and wag so hungry and Jonesome SEA 1 took ont all your letters and indulged myself it a feast—but without satiety, and now 1 lon to pour out into your heart of my abundance. @™% conscious of three jets to the fountain of my soul, to the Great Lover and yoursell, to whom as one I am eternally wedded; my children; and the Gear friends who trust and loveme. . . May God's peace abound with you, YOUK OWN DEAR WIFE. SBE SEEKS NEW WORDS TO EXPRESS HER LOVE FO& HER NUSBAND, Fripay EVENING, March 6, 1868. My Pazcious Huspanp—I wish I mignt coin a new word of endearment that would express the ofmy soul'slove. . . . YOUR DEARLY BELOVED WIFE, SHE WILL NEVER SCOLD HIM AGAIN. Nonsery, Sunday Evening, March 8, 1868. My BELovep:—Aii alone, save Eliza in the kitchen; children all asleep about me; while I have been trying to imaging. my state when I i tg live with you and behola your precious form. Ithink, I have decided—no more chidings, Scoidings! An inexpressible tenderness hus grown up in my soul toward you. I never beiore saw my path as clear as now—that whatever you may do, There are some ‘our fesus Say Or be, it becometh me to be the Christian wie | and mother!! . . . Mr. Beecher gave us & pleasant episode yester- day—a visit of more than an hour. He said, with reat earnestness, you never could know tne EF Hfication your letter appreciating “Norwood”’ nim, He meant to give you the American Balvion and me the Englisi, or vice versa, so that | ‘we might have one each. . . . Good night. INFIDELITY. Your Dzss, Friday, A. M., Maroh 13, 1868. My Drak HusBanD— . . . Intimations oI the Chief Justice’s infidelity make me {eel that you alone of ail men can stand! Well, beloved, so long as I live, we will stanu together ior all truth and purity ol action. Say you not amen to this? - « « I know of no joy equal to your home-com- Ing. Aaieu. YOUR DEAR WIFE. SHE WANTS HER HUSBAND ALL TO HERSELF. HOME VARLOR, Marca 17, 1568, My DeARLY BELOVED:— . . . But 1 insist (hat when you return you shall oe prevented trom | seeing visitors, and for a little while rest with me. Ushail be the writin, like our iriend Mrs. b, to frignten away intruders. your ows, HER HUSBAND'S SATISFACTION WITH HER FRIDAY MORNING, Jan. 22, 1869. My DgaRLy BELOVE +. . di my poor, dull, heavy “letters do you good as a medicine” i have cause for gratitude, I’m sure. . . . For- give me that Iwantso much love. Yes, my soul cries: Give, give. 1 beheve f am big enough to supply even your big heart with love if you'll only let me. Farewell, WIFE, BELOVED. SHE WRITES TO HIM WITH DELIGHT. TUESDAY Noon, Jao, 26, 1869, DEsRLY BELOVED—It is with delight and_ for Felreshinent that! hasten, a8 opportunity offers, to sit down wituout interruption to write and think of you. Isit not true that 1 write of youas weil as to you? On! my own dear husband, could { but enjoy your companionship now a litle while. (cannot understand why the demons, weariness, Seb socing, ungenerous selfishness and many tetui little sprites perpetually Uns § about me ‘when you are with me, to modify and lessen our possible enjoyment. . . . Gvod by, and good night. Your own dear wile, who 1s proud ‘and fond of her husband, E—. HE HAS MADE FOR HER A BEAUTIFUL HOME. BROOKLYN, THURSDAY MORNING, Feb. 4, 1869. My Deakty-BELOVED Husband . . .) My darling, | must believe that this peantiful home which you huve made for us must have given you @ greater amount of satisiaction than we generaily secure irom eartolylavors. . . . Iwas glad to bear from you in the /ndependent this week. Oli- Ver toid me of Mr. Bowen's desire to publish his Teply last week Lo the Mechodist assauant. This ied to the object o/ his visit to me, which was to in- aire of me the origin of the sory told nim by a lady ‘om Brooklyn, whose letter you saw beiore going West. I then told him at length how that he new himseif how 1 felt years ago regarding him, for [ had sought an interview alone with him at the Standard office, and al! that had passed there [I had told Mattie B——: but at present my feelings ETTE RS. fers him had changed entirely. because my | jusband was no longer young, and that very tew, tudeed, { could not name one whom | thought bie to imfuence (im for harm. Besides, f Rite learned to trust In. the friendsiip of my hus- T realized how sincere ius attachment was for you, and believed tn tt. rowing indiffereuce ‘or some time past be- fveen him, Oliver and myseil, and therelore T have been always more glad to welcome Mary AnD than himselt to my house. ‘rank, conscientious taik, ending by my fathng fin that I desired with all my soul to feel no tl thougnt or suspicion toward any human being, and | only Wisned to live (Oo attain to this. | felt Very muci better in spirit aiter it, and think that here now We are again in syipatuy. The reception to Lucretit Mott has fation through because of that dear old laay’s unwiliipg- ness to be llonized. . . . Ar. B. does not come a8 olten asin the tail. Hts lavors are heavy, and he too seelg just ike work more than for several years past. . . . Farewell, Your daring, | KELIZABELH, WIFE, A WHITE NIGHT. ™ SATURDAY NiGHT, Feb. 6, 1809, My Very Drak Husvanp: . . . Your words “my return trip’ 1 have read over and over agai. How long it seems since we took the ride in the cartiage through New York to the cars! That Was & white Higut—as you say—-memorabdle lor true feeling In both of our hearts. 1 hope my Beart will always leap at your coming. .. . VO not be discouraged, my sweet. ht you live ani labor your best, God Knows it, and dors not require sou to bear imy imiirmities. Alone we live and alone we do and must appear. itis my greatest wmisery ti L make you vw Jail by loss of temper, deception, or any such tuing. ruat my pre-cuce should ever aifect you sor evil makes me ery a8 did Vain—“My punistiment 19 greater than L¢an bear!” Ldo not think ne sutered any more Seenly than dol Good nigut, YOUR FOND SUP IMPATIENT WIPE. But I had felt a | We had avery | | touched py it, and d | mutual refreshment turn to our Own sweet I bless | you, mn 2 NEW YORK HERALD, SATURDAY, AUGUST 15, 1874~—WITH SUPPLEMENT, Mapremconrepiong yt 7 My Brtovep—1 have 's “Extreme Unction,” and the Shaper ia Jorwood” of Parson Buell’s grief at the death of his wie, {tis very touching, a I realized for a moment what that agony st be, the parting at the river between & husband and wile who have truly loved—how neritenie it is! God only can sustain the ins, wil the one who de; ‘I shall be olelag wanes tet tat crt ts ven me a bless . enal ay something for Him, and that couseipun privilege overiiows my heart utterly. At home he helped me to ve pat willing, deh lad, fo apend my self for others; and in the Bethel, my hit room was crowded, ‘The interest increases in ey all love me, 1 yeel it, because I, very one. 1| do, indeed, ieel grateful for ement they give in these new labors, 1 tel! you rather more Jength than veual of my work here, because J earnest wish our sympathy, and to feel free to talk with You oPeverytuing tu which I'm jnterested’ as in ‘auld lang syne.” However imperfect we May appear to each other, yet the dear Lord does not hesitate to use us. Now, to-night, I give self to you—my best, my worst—“just as I am.” Tako me once again into your confidence, bear with my follies@s jn early days. 1 consecrate a self to you so long as I shall live, before God this bight, a8 a Atting close of this Sabbath day. For- pye all my Lndrmtiies ana help me to overcome to inal victory. Wilt thou? So will you if you permit. The treedom with Which you write o! Paul* gives me great pleasure. Then “the fountains are unsealed and we flow together. I taik not Much of him, Yet this mysterious feeling / know which I ‘Of awe or Wait- to learn what he will do for me, and an agony of fear at times, lest | snould fall by reason of sia—What he could bring. Already, in many things, {am a changed woman, through his precious ministrations. Yet, fearing sch a state- ment may be too positive, let me modily it by a woman changing. . + » YuCR OWN, * Pant was the doad son of Mr. and Mrs. Tilton. THE “LIFE OF CHRIST.” WEDNESDAY NIGHT, Feb. 10, 1860. My DgagLy LoveD HusBaND—I Will take up my home story irom where I left of yesterday morning; muiling the financial letter to Des Moines. About an hour alter Mr. B. came ip, bringing the manuscript sheets of his first chapter in the ‘Lite of Christ’? to read to me. He had read them to no one else, and wanted to chapter would sound. I liked it, and you wil, I think. It is fresh and imteresting. Aiter he had tmished reading, 1 rap up stairs and brought a little sketch of one of | my Betuel lessons on “Mary, the Mother of Jesus,’? a8 an example of woman's faith, which I read tohim, Hts visit was reireshing and com- forting tome. . . . Butlam too tired to think or write more. How blessed to know that these bodies are not always to clog and hinder us! Ac- cept gud welcome my spirit of love, which is as fresh and ardent as ever, faithful and ever de- voted to you. Blessings on eRe my dearly beloved. ELIZABEIH, WIFE, SHE 18 THOROUGBLY SATISFIED IN HER HUSBAND, THURSDAY, Feb. 11, 1869. My DaRtivg— . . . You will find a worn and weary woman thoroughly satisfied when once agam she may rest on your bosom. I cannot sleep until I nave returned thanks tor the letter of good cheer reaching me to-day, written on the care to Chicago. I had been waiting al! the week for a Word, and had tallen in spirits; but, as the hymn says, “What @ change a word can make.’’ 1 took my letter in the room and, by the spot where the Heaven opened once for little Paut to enter, | knelt down and gaye thanks for your life, tor your love, and again (as im many, times) there the heavens have opened brought peace to mysoul. If tears could atone lor sin, my soul would be clean teerefrom, for alone aud often 1 ory upto God to ‘create in mea ciean heart.” . . . Joseph is with mother, hay- ing that long-expected settlement. Father is firmly set upon a separation. I would be happier were she (o seek an asylum for 4 season belore that step be taken. Oh, my beloved, may you never suller a8 1 have over @ mother turned to an enemy. ... . I rejoice in tne spirit of your editorial; it bas the good old ring in it. Now may not home influence dull the strain! Elizabeth, behold what you do, or undo! Soi keep in mind. od nigh!, my sweet. Yours slw: ss Li taal WIFE ELIZABETH. 4 REMARKABLE TRIBUTE TO HER HUSBAND'S LOVE AND TENDERNESS. TUESDAY EVENING, February 28, 1860, My BELOVED: “ris is the lsat day of wioter.!” Littie Carroll said as he got into bed to-nigat:— “Papa will soon be here.” “Yes,” [ replied, “spring will certainly come, and I hope in three Sundays more papa will come as surely.” . . . Iwill go back @ little and teil you yesterday's story, a day so full as “0 crowd outentirely my Writing you. First of all, then, my heart over- flowed toward you, because of your generous, Kind letter concerning mother. “She was quite jired me to give you her thanks for your mpathy. . . + head and heart have been so iult of divorce cases you leit, this ditticuity of mother’s following on the heels of Mrs, M—k, has been a kind of experi- ence of which [have had quite enough. Were I lawyer, I would certainly change MAY brofosion, or beg rather than Investigate such miserier. . ow my sweet, aiter go long & tale, let me fo1 rr love. the terribi ept us stea Dd respect God thas it abideth. Amon; changes of many hearths God hag last with a glowing love, admiration Jor each other. , let ua praise His name for ever. All the differences and migunderstandings we have bad are, as Whittier says, Like mountain ranges overpast. “If God be for us, who can be against us 2”? Give me your patience while 1 spread out before you the /ruitage of your beautiful love, like the Tare-cut flowers of a bouquet. They are the clog- jug words 01 your letters, select and precious, re- minding me O! the soul-stircing benedictions of tae Apostie’s epistles. Fruit No. 1 “But among all my losses, Ihave lost no jot or tittie of ever-increusing love ior the Sweetest of ‘Wives and the fairest o! cnildren.”” “My heart longs ior you to-day.” “Grace, Mercy ana peace ever thine,” “You and the chicgs and the house, and all, are in my thoughts every day ‘and hour.” “Good by and ail bail.” “With overflowing love,I am now and ever, yours devotedly.” *1send you now as ever the fervid love of yours devotedly,” “1 think you and I are yet to walk in Paradise to- gether.” “I would rather have my wife and children at this moment than ail the honors under the sun.” “Every day 01 my lile [ love you more and more, and shall unto the end." “With my woole soul J am yours f*ithfully.’* “df now Lhad a little rsonal comiorting and petting irom the little lady at No. 136 I woulda be periectly satisfied.” “But Paul and [ Keep our compapionship. To ois mother, be God's peace.” love you Jerventiy and enurely.”” “Blessings on you always.” Then, searing that these “would make & Woman mad outright,” you have 1X episties ending :— “Yours in dust and ashes.” “Yours Doggediy.”’ é “God help your sorfowfal and groaning hus- and |! *-Yours achingly,” &c. Bow. like you the receiving a letter from your- sell I keep a list of these delicious tit-bits most ten- derly, believe it. Thou knowest | love thee. Good night. WIFE ELIZABETH. THE SAME OLD sroRY. FRipay Night, March 5, 1869, My Own Dear Husband: The sheet on which I write 1s one Of @ box of paper and envelopes pre- me to churcu to-night, and desired me to use 1t in writing you... much. My prayer is night and day that I may not tarm your (vee spirit, nor be seifisn im loving you more. . . « Lam very tired, sweet; too tired to write, but not to love. Love never exhausts. Good uignt Your own torever, ELIZABETH. SUB SYMYATIUIZES WITH HER HUSBAND'S TOIL AND TRAVEL. SATURDAY MORNING, March 6, 1869. My DaguinG: | have louked with great annoy- ance and pain on the map to learn your where- abouts, and realized the immense labors you were woing through pega A letter, jusc received, de- sired me to do 50. n't make @ Western tour again. With your salary and the engagements near home we will try to pay off our debt and e du- cate our children, ‘arewell. YOUR DEAR WIFE. 8Hb eacaxe Ax ACTIVE SUPFRAGIsT. AY MORNING, March 13, 1869. My BevovgeD: Friday, [took Annie to call with me on some of my Bethel women, ana, after, to a meeting of the Executive Committee of tue Equal Rights Association meeting at the Revolution ofice. You will be amuseu to know that Susan made me Chairwoman, and said afierwards that “i did as well as Theodore himseli.” 1 always want to represent you weil. BAGERNESS OF EXPLAINING. SaTuRDaY, March 20, 1869. My Bgxovep: I have endeavored to meet you at | every appointment with one or two letcers. Why they have not reached you is & mystery. 1 am nearly beside myseli thinking that in one week I am yours and you are mine agatn. Up all last night, and my first thought wasa desire and @ prayer for you. Tf am overflowing with grateful jove for your tender, precious words from Springfleid. I have written this week eighteen letters.* The house will ve empty, swept and garnished, | (rust, When you return. ' Take care of yoursell, that, with body and soui, we may realize God’s fullest Diessing in our reunion. Yours, earn- ly and entirely, ELIZABETH, WIFE. 1 kept waking “These letters were addressed by Mrs. Tilton to various | ersons interested in the Woman’ (irom she wished to brlug together “ew anniversary meeting. ANXIOUS FOR ORTHODOXY. AUGUST 3, 1869, My Dpan HUSBAND: On, dear Uitte. dore, May 1 bot persuade you to love the Lord Jesus Christ’ LO not let this entreaty estrange us more, for my piliow a7t is wet with tears and prayers tat We May come tnto sympathy in our religious natures, DO have pati ee with me, jor, a8 the time remains to us, {ject as though my heart would break Wf tdid not speak to vou— not that | am right in any sense, and you are wrong; Gud lorbid | but we are not ong in iecling, and it is impossible ior me to be indiilerenty ‘age Movement, t in Brooklyn at an many | and | since | sented by one of my “mothers,” who called to take | am sure I need you very | | small yet important events; the growth of the shpat addildncs | cept that its color was not in the New England ede! | especially God blesses us with dear children, 2 €f is to be'witn you, ‘Thope to wit a je unalloyed come fort with him, Give ve, ju know I have it for hit. Make him comfortable as you Faby, alton ha pe ge ba or oa re Fons aood Righty” four dear wile. EER BUSBAND’S FRIENDS, - MONTICBLLO, Aagust 6, 1809. obency’ tone ich you write, and eo oad people are brightening your solitary ap lonely bome, Raper Tilton, “Alice Cary, mrs. fave had rare envercainmenta dood nigh “1 Am | we had rare entertainmen ni YOUR DEE WIFE. oni Si ar, Al it 15, 1860, CELLO, SCNDAY, Augus' . Mr Dean HvsBavp—These days are full’ of the Pere. Ol the sickness and suffering of little ul @yearago! . , . Mr. Beecher wrote mea very summers, characteristic letter, which I would inclose gave for the fear you would jose it. member me to our girls. YOURS ALWAYS. HES BEAUTIFUL HOME. — MONTICELLO, ae: ¥ DARING=I was not going 1a. Write to coniern, jut your Sunday's letter, was such a beautiful picture of yourself and cfilldren that I Wished to express my love once more aud sead a #188 tO My BWeet darlings. Come soon. YOUR BLESSED PET, SHE HANGS UP A SENTENCE FROM HER HUSBAND'S LETTERS. MONTICELLO, August 18. My BELOVED Huspanp—I fear my letter dis- tressed you, as I found occasion to express my fears to you, and, perhaps, hid the love that was throb- Ding in my heart for you all the while. I shall soon bave been absent irom you as long as you were from me on your Western visit, which I then boped and prayed would never occur again. Oh, when 1 do see you, you shail have a taste jor a Jew minutes of a Woman's pure love, uJ know how to express it. 1 have just Mailed a note of appreci- ation to Mr. Cuyler tor his beautiful tribute to you. + + . Ihave taken your sentence in large letters ‘with love unbounded” and hung it over my man- telpiece. YOURS ALWAYS. HER HUSBAND'S “BEAUTIFUL VISIT’! TO HER IN THB COUNTRY. MONTICELLO, August 31, 1869. My Own Deg4R HussanD—Thanks jor your | prompt letter. I do, indeed, jeel lonely without | you, but try to be brave. . . Your most beau- | Utul visit 18a constant dehght to think npov. 1| Walking up und down on al sides of | am very grateiul forit. . aa! Tiong for youthese me, and my ears full of busy bust- | moonlight nights. . . . Youmade many (friends ings; but 1 am strong im the canvic- | here. We are rich 1n this regard, ever to find | Won that the great favor of God, shown to me in intends. Love to all my loved ones, and my heart's purest jor yourself. HER PRIDE IN HER HUSBAND'S FAME. GaRRISON’s, West POINT, Monday Night, Jan. 3, 1870. My Dear Houssand—Belore you had fairly seated yoursell in the cars I learned tvom tue conversa- tion of a gentleman in the depot that the quarter to eleven express was then ready, and that an effort would be made to reach New York before nigat. I theretore determined to share my tor- tunes with my fellow travellers and spend the day jn the cars rather than in Albany, We reached Poughkeepsie past three, and ber:—West Point— halt-past six, I intended to push on home, but could hardly expect to do sv before mid- night, and ag Alice desiwed a change I yielded, | and am in a@ neat little hotel at the head of the | ferry house here, very comfortable, where the | hostess always reads the Independent and wishes more to see its editor than any other living man, Such @ sentiment from tals simpie-hearted woman was like wine to my tired body ana oul... (Additional letters, following these, come down to February &, 1870, three months belore Mrs. Til ton’s confession.) TILTON'S LETTERS TO HIS WIFE. Having given above the letters of Mrs. Elizabeth R. Tilton to her husband during the period cov- ered in ber recent testimony to his sileged ill- treatment of ber, we give below the letters which Mr. Tilton adaressed to his wife during the same period. “NONE WHOM I WOULD EXOHANGE FOR MY Sr. Lours, Deo. 31, 1864. My DeaRty BeLovep WiFz—It is midnight— ‘the lass nour and moment of the year! I am sit- ting alone in My room at the hotel, thinking of home, and full of home-sickness. Under my win- dow a werenading bana is playing ‘Home, Sweet Home” in honor of a military otticer here. I 1¢el 84 if they are playing it tn mockery 01 me. ‘he city is iuli of bonfres—a custom here on | Obristmas and New Year’s eves. ‘ne fire bells have been ringing a salute—to speed tne parti and welcome the coming year, Already my dat Of 1866 1s wrong: I ought now to say 1865, I think of our yeur of family nistory—full of children; the ripening of our own minds; the row ibe ateotion between us all, ripening ime; the goodness of God in sparing our ives; the daily discipline of cares, trials, sorrows, juys— all the Changes of life, fasmoning us, as under the molding of Providence, into constantly new creat- ures, and, I trust, into higher and better lives. L have seen, in my daily visits to the new cities and families of my tour, many sweet atd pleasant ladies and children, but nove anywhere whom I would exchange jormyown. I suspect that, at this lace hour, you are all abed and asieep. I would like to catch a glimpse o/ all your iaces ana to sieal & kiss from all your cheeks, This woula be more comfort than ail the sage attentions whicu I @m securing irom the iii friendship and skin- deep kindness which the world calis hospitality. And now, Happy New Year! May God biess, protect, abide with you ail,—wile and children, and all the household, to whom, now as ever, I send my love. Yours, brimful o: affection, THEODORE. “NEVER KNEW BEFORE THE PAIN OF ABSENOE.”” ASELEY HOUSE, BLOOMINGTON, Lil, Thursday, Jan. 5. 1865. } My Dganty-BeLoveD Wire: Not having touched a pen for four days, I just this mo- ment find jeisure to resume the story of my travel. , . On New Year’s afternoon (that is, monday after- noon) I took the train for Alton, Ill, . . . The next morning | visited the grave of Elijah | Lovejoy, who was killed. wwenty-seven years ago in that place, because he spoke against Siavery. His grave is in a cemetery on a high hill, 1rom which [ could see the confluence of the Missourt and Mississippi Rivers—a broad and liberal land- | scape, picturesque and beautilul. Alton is the roughest and hiluest city I ever saw, being all jike Brooklyn at the slope of Columbia strect. . . On Wednesday morning I leit Alton, aud at noon reached Springieid. . Lieut.-Gov, Bross gave me welcome . . . and in the afternoon took me to the home of Abraham Lincolv,—a pla, two- story, wooden building, pated prown,—looking Mike toe residence 01 a man neither poor nor rich,— @ house like many a one in Salem or Danvers, ex- white. Tomy surprise, its present occupants are | @ jamily named Tilton, who received me with | great cordialtty, and with whom I spent the eptire aiternoon ull dark. . . . They gave me a cor- dialinvitation to come again, pringing you, and making a jamily-visit. Inclosed is a little card of flowers which Miss Tilton plucked from the garden. | while flowers were yet in bloom. . . . Alter breakiast this morning, I walked out upon the prairie, which here is not flat, but rolling. [ found just outside the city @ beautilul grove, | where | paced up and down, musing o/ home. | The weather a Jali of golden glory—not cold for the season—all nature smiling like @ Wedding day. But there is always something in such a rare beauty of sky and sunsiine to make me sad and lonesome. U walked up ana down ike a pilgrim—struggling to Keep tears out of my eyes. I chide myseli, and | lam punished for not having brought with me some picture of you and the children. Even a picture ol you would comiort me now. My love is kindled like a coal under @ breath, whenever [ think of you, 1 never knew belore ‘the pain of absence. You are the dearest, sweetest, kindest and best of women, aud the dear children are uke yourself! Kiss them all lor PAPA. | “MY ONE AND ONLY LOVE AMONG WOMEN.” CINCINNATI, BURNET Houem | Sunday eve., Jan. 9, 1865. My DER WIFE AND FRIEND: At last 1 have your two letters, which 1 have been chasing tor three days. 1 overtook them in Cincinnati: this morning, and have already read them haifa dozen times over. I can appreciate the greed of soldiers to get letters irom home. ‘They are “good news irom a far country.” Ihave now, in all, our let- | ters irom your dear pen. ‘Tne previous two I have | handled so much—reading them so often in the cars—that their edges look worn and roughened. ‘They four make @ little manuserips volume, which Ikeep in @ spare corner oi my pocket. What I read most often are the rare aud flavorsome sen- tences in which you offer me your love, ike a ripe iruit, Heaven b.ess you, ny true wie! . . Your iast letter was without date, though judged it to have been written before New Year's Day. Did [ tell you of my disappotntment on that day? {was in St, Lous, and you in Brooklyn; but there was a telegraphic wite between, and so | I wrote the followiug despatch :-- To aye. Tuxopons Tinton, 43 Livingston street, Brook- Happy New Year (rom the banks of the M! he | ail TL OvORE TL LON. But I was told by the operators that it could not | be put througo on that day. (was going to send 4 similar one to Mr, Beecher. It seemed to me. | on that day, i I were hail way round tne wor.d, L Wes at such a distance irom your dear, sweet seif. You meation that you do not receive my leters | daily. 1 Write one eaci day, but sometimes tiey ave mailed on tue railroad, and sometimes in & hotel, 1never can tell when my letter will start | antert have mailed it, ‘fais accounts for the regularity. . 6. Your account of your holiday presents to the children, near and far of Kiu, has suddenly awak- | sehed in my Mind the suspicion that L never velore Iuily appreciated your imterest and auxiery in wis mater. Lam giad jeu did as your heart prompted. [am sorry that heretoiore | have not better Hoderstoou the Full extent of your wishes 4s lu Making guts. I tniok you bever belore took Pains to MaKe Me soil U statement of yout In- Ward promptings on this subject. Birthdays and bolida,s have not been so much to me as tO you. I wih think more of them hereaiter for your sake. i will send nO messages to the ebildren this | time, or I mean to write them u special letter aster [have Aoished this, if Lwet time. in case I get no time I here send kisses for all three, and | and dnergola! | crueliy disappoint my expectation o1 meeting you deliver the burden. wisi I could kiss them | Me. es ned’ in mind by travel, art of travel whicu jendships, that! shail tue w = shall be the ex weet little cheeks by > at this very mi I making new berealter insist on your going with me, lor eee uae advantages to oursell 7 a8 jor the sake of companionship ior im beginning to think less aud less" of books, and more and more of men an Ai 6 education. You are too closely abut up at ho! ‘ou must go more into society, not to evening parties, but on journeys with me, I regret keenly | that you have not been with me in this long tip. | My journey has been as much to me us Mr, Bagot 8 English journey was to him. nu? if you and Icould ‘only have plucked these roses together! May God piess you aud carry me galely to your side and into your arms once again, Above ail else in the world—books, uame or jame—I love you, my one aud only love among women—first, last and perennial. | As now iwrite, my feelings risé within me, and Oil me with such a thrill as sometimes suoots through me at the touch o1 your hand Wittin mine, Orof your lips to mine, | Passing daily turough multitudes of strangers, who glide. among one another without mutual | Tecognition or mutual interest in each other's wel- fare, I have lately been more than ever impressed | with the wonderiul simplicity of God’s pian tor , binding together human society, pamely—py cre- ating 1M each bi east some strong and dominating | love Jor one human being. | By sweet love, I begin to see, as never belore, | that the centre of the world to an honorabie man nis own family—his wue’s sitting room, his ohildren’s play places, bis uous. I hope hereaiter, | it God should spare my lite, to be more careiul how | My face 1s made to cast a shadow upon my Lome. 1 Rave been too often negligent of your reques' that I should give more time to your dear sell ana | the children. As my heart now feels, | am ready to promise never to seek my old seifish seciusjons again, put to spend my home-iife in your sweetest of all company, Our children live so much in the moods of their parents that I hope our dear little chicks will see ‘hat you and love one another unto perpetual happiness and unbroken peace. Love is the heavenly magic. 1t is the gilding that would brighten many a dull house. Love 1s ours, I know, in rich measure already—only let us make it finer 1 hardly know why I shouid have fallen into this | strain to-night, and especially here: for L amsitting | @ta@ public table, in a great hotel, with people the gut ofso many new-lound Iriends aud weil- | Wishers, 18 Working oul IM my heart, Jor its chief and crowning effect, @ purer, deeper, stronger, | holler love jor tuatswees woman, that iriend of friends, on whose finger I myself, and not another, | put @ wedding ring! Yours for lise and deash, THLODORE. “MY WHOLE HEART TURNS TOWARD YOU.” Buxyett House, oa y Tuesday, midni ht, Jan. 10, Isto Deak Pet:—1 have accomplished my lecture, and, before going to bed, 1 take my pen tu say good niguc to my dear, yearning, prayerful wie, who, perhaps at this véry hour, is lying awake thinking ot her runaway husband. Good night, my deur girl! Sweet dreams of your husband fil your tuougits! My whole heart turns toward you with great yearnings and with love wautteraite. Peace be with you! Amen! THEODORE. “{ HAVE CLUNG TO YOU AS WITH AN ANCHOR.’ WEDDELL Howse, CLEVELAND, Jan. 13, 1365. My DaRuinc Wig: . . Yesterday morning +. . J was invited . to visit the lather and mother of Licut.-Ge: TaNt . + e | Your iewters are hke wine to my -tbirst. On | opening the eavelope | am aiways disappointed if the letter is no} a long one, 1 am glad Mr. Beecher called on you. I will write to thank him for it. 1 | Dave not had a line from him, but 1 have lad two | brief notes irom Mr. Greeley. *. . . You say, “Iam glad you write you sick.” Irepiy lam giad you write the God spares me to return, Iam sure our loves will be novier than ever. { tee) myseli spiritually | profited by my experiences of travel. 1 have cluug you as with an anchor every aay of my absence. The thought of your constaut love dils me with tenderness and yearning. And the dear children grow dearer and dearer. Kiss tuem ail for their | jather’s one) Remember me always in your prayers. Dear, sweet per, good night. THEODORE, SPEND ALL THE MONEY YOU NEED. | ‘SHE INDEPENDENT EDITORIAL Rooms, i No, § BEEKMAN STRUET, NW YORK, July 31, 1865.5 | My R Per: Your letter this morning came | with a thousand welcomes. it has kept my blood | gay allday tong. Bless you, dear pet, for loving he i hayendiag taxing, wayward, fault-fnding asband! . . . Spend all the money you need to make yourself comiortavle. Don't jail to ride out plentifalily— never mind the cost. Forgive all my tauits, and look into my heart, and see how I love you. Kver yours. THEODORE. FLORENCE'S EIGHTH BIRTHDAY. THE INDEPENDENT EDITORIAL Rooms, No, 6 BEEKMAN STREET, NEW YORK, Aug. 4, 1963. My Duar PaT—This 1s Florence’s eighth birth- day! How many times to-lay you have thought Of it—absent among the mountains! The dear child and her sister have had their heads iuil of it all day, for 1am now writing in the late after- B j io providing mauly pleasures ior my own special circle of his guests. | | you to-day. So, you see, Ido not forget oH. suite, 50 aver t nia, so avermaster mi ach in turn that somestmes | ality and sometimes another. 1t 1 not every one who either experiences Hie oe, cap ore fomprebend it. + Whichever wind biows, | find in a little Whue that you, my dearest, are my sheet-anchor. I need your presence and influence, not only for the vomiort of my life, but for the stabil- ity Of my mind. [| feel to-day as if I could humbly ‘kiss your lips. O my wife! 1 more and more realize the exceeding great inftuence which your pature has, unconsciously to both of us, exerted upon mine. | know that Iam a bet- ter man because God gave you to me. But 1 tremble to think that may-pertiaps have meanly reciprocated tis bounty by seltisnly ving too mach to myself and too little for you. pitting here to-day, and thinking of you afar off, Lam proud of your character, of your affection ior me, of the little children O/ our love and of ail the sweet pictures of the home faces tbat | now see with my mind’s eye. When think that you have spent your itfe for my sake, my heart overflows with gratitude for the gut of your pure and disinterested love. Never any other woman so filled my ideal of womanly nobility, My heart rests upon you and is satisfied. Would to God I could see you here to- day! 1 know [gm too uneven ana tumultuous to show you always a courteous and knightly jront. But my heart dears no false witness when it testi. fies that its supreme and undedied affection on | cae now and everniore for you and for no other. Grace, mercy and peace be with you on this Sab- bath day. Make Heaven familiar with your hus- | bant’a name by your prayers jor his daily Strengthening in a Christian life. And now, with | blessings and benedictions on the sweetest mother of the best of children, 1 -end kisses and tears to each and all, Forever thine, ‘THEODORE. TBE “CHILDLIKE MOTHER." New York, June 3, 1866, My Dgan Pet: ... . The enclosed letter I forgot to mail yesterday. I am sorry { was ab- sent when Henry Ward caused with it at my oftice. | With love to the children and their childike mother, 1am yours forevermore, ‘THEODUKE, “NO WOMAN HERE 1S LIKE MY WIFE.” EWVORT, KR, L, MONDAY AFTERNOON, August 23, 1806. | My BEsr BELOVED—A great company is gathered | here at this moment, Carriages are rolling up at | the door; ladies and gentlemen are getting out; cougratuiations are going on; but don’t care lor the lashionable disp.ay, aud have excused myself from mingling in the paraae. | never belore hada | realiziug thought of so much fashion brought into | contact with So much nature. Here one sees at the sume glance the Ocean and its waves and silk | dresses and scented hanakerchieis, I don’t relish | the couparison. \ Nevertueless, if people are to lead fashionable | lives at all, let them lead them in the compensat- | lng presence of nature. I am etting somewhat | homesick, hotwitnstanding (he great kindness of | My host aud tue great iugenuity he has displayed « . . Thali repent meo! my long stay—particu- larly since Lam quite aware that you have been lonesome meanwhile. Your brie! note which I ree | ceived yesterday, mentioning the sickness of Alice aud your own disappointment at not seeing your husband, chid me into compunction for my daily- ig in this place while you were repiuing in an- other. No woman here is like my wife; nochildren like our children—none 60 {air looking, none so well | behaved. Kich men’s houses oiten lack poor men’s treasures. {am here in the midst of great luxury, but am more than ever content with my own moderate resources. Ihave been reflecting that God has been exceed- | ingly kind to you and to me, Our love and mar- riage, our children, our friends, our good repute amoug people whose good opinion is golden, our | daily Comiorts—all Make me thunkiu! jor my lot agit ts, rather than restless alter what it 1s Dot. ave (ely these lines just to pllaiew mo- Makes the second letter which I have written to ODORE. “TEACH THEM TO ADORE THEIR MOTHER,” Newport, Monday, August 27, 1366, My Daring: . . . | have pot wished that you were here, except jor the Pleasure of your company, for! do not think you gould find much enjoyment in the ety of the ilies now at tis house. ‘Ihe young are irivolous, ad the old are stupid. YT have no more to say to either class than | just tobeciyil, . . . | The weather is pecieoe perce and without | blemish, I believe 1 ordinarily see too litte of | Nature for my soul's good; lor communten with | ‘these great waves and grand clouds makes & man | humole apd devout. In all my more solemn thoughts I find myself constantly thinking ot your own dear seli—my soul's trie associace lor lime and eternity. Kiss the dear children, and teach them to love their jather, but to adore their mother. “{ WISH YOU WERE HERE.” BURLINGTON, Nov. 13, 1866—10 P, M. My Danuisc— . . . The weath=r is golden— | ithrereig ey Mepetels ‘The Green Mountains and ake Obamplain are among God’s best works. Tbe moon, that pursued me up tue Hudson, tar- ries with me in my chamber to-night. Buti wish you were here, instead of Diana 0d nee ehliliness. “< WOULD NOT RXOHANGE MY WIFE FOR ANY OTHER IN THE WORLD.” ALtooNa, Pa., Munday Nignt, Nov. 26, 1866, My Dapuinc—Aiter riding al @ ry thinking, papping and cutcning cold—! noon. First of all 1 gave to Florence a Bible, gilt edged and brass clasped; aiso a pretty knlie, pearl | hanaled; also some of Mr. Park’s fowers, to make | & crown for her head; also some spending money, | witb liberty to use it at her pleasure. Oliver Johnson sent her a neat leather reticule, some- thing like Libby's. At four o'clock to-day the children were io go with the Judge down to Coney {sland—the party being too large to make | room for myself in the carriage. Sol think the | birthday will be memorable wilh her. She has ap- peared eg happy aud talked very wisely. it 18 good Jor the children that you should be oc- cei lly absent from them—it develops their re- urces, . I have not been able, tn any of thoughts to- day, to realize how rapidly the girls are creeping | away trom their chilchood. Mattte* 18 my ouly baby—she remains in my mind perpetually the same young thing whom we laid under the grouna, Her birthday lnio Heaven! So lite and death and | immortality have each added a thought to this day’s reflections. Your's, with unspeakable love, THODORE. | | “Mattie was a child who died in infancy. “I TAKE FOR GRANTED YOUR CONTINUAL LOVE.” New Yor«, August 5, 1865. DEAR PET—No letter irom you this morning! Never mind—don’t trouble yourself to write every day. 1 take for granted your continual love. But your letters are my chiefdelicht during these days Ol absence, . . . Mr. Beecher has been in this morning, inquiring aflef you and tne chicks and leaving bis love ior all. He ts not well—dyspeptic and bilious. . . . With ever-growing love for you and dear Car- | roll, and with regards to Libby and Emma, I am, now and ever, THEODORE. “I THANK GOD FOR MY SWEET WIFE.!? SUNDAY EVENING, August 20, 1865. My Daruinc—I am sitting dt my writing table jn Keyport, having just put both the cnildren to bed in tue green room. My Sabbath has been very delightful. I went tochurch this morning and spent the afternoon with Florence and Alice, reading the history of | David and Goliath. The children have been de- | lightiul companions. | As evening drew on they became more and more confidential, talking a good deal of you and Cad. I helped them undress and put them to bed—allow- ing no one élse to disturb the charm. Alice hud at | first some hesitation in saying her prayers aloud, | but overcame the scruple bravely. [ tremble at the thought of losing either of the | ets. Life 1s awful, looked at through love. ‘We | ave these treasures 10 earthen vessels.” { have been suveral days thinking how | could contrive to make the world endurabie without your compan- jonship. Nor is it possible for true lovers ever to | measure the depth of their own true love until a | separation searches both hearts or deati slays oue, What we possess we may not always under- value, though possession quicts and aliays the {eet longings which arise during separa- Aon. It seems to me that if you were taken away from | me altogether this world woula seem no ionger worth tarrying in. {thank God for my sweet wife and the beautiful minded chiidren whom He has | pe us. ay you and I become more and more | like unto little children, and so be the more and more fit lor the Kingdom of Heaven, Ever yours, | THEODORE. SWEBT RECOLLECTIONS, New Yorx, Weduesday. Uct. 25, 1865. Bust or Pers: . . . Mr. Beecher preached sermon on Sunday evening aimed at the Jndepen. dent, I have a reply tn this week’s paper. Mr. Bowed heartily sustains me in my course. J have not seen Air. Beecher, and I suppose wis difference 188 difference only of opinion, and not of good will, But tam right, ana won't be shaken from the rock under my leet, | T have had such’sweet recollections of our Sun- day and of my last visit home that 1 have been, ever since, the happiest of men, Nothing ts more deeply rooted in my conviction than that 1 owe | more to your pure love and wfilely example than | to all the world beside, Hoaven bless you! You are the best of good women! Kiss the children ior their father’s sake, and let them kiss you in the same behalf. Yours jorever, THEUDORE. “MY HEART RESTS C you.'? SUNDAY, NOON, WASHINGTON, March 28, 1866. MY ESPOUSED SaintT—How could you so 0, here to-morrow? . . . Lam halfot opinion that you are coming after all, and mean {0 take me by a joylul surprise. Whenever you come | will cry welcowe! ‘To-day Is tue first day of leisure which | 1 have fad Since my arrival in this city. But tis leisure brings homesickness and unntterable de- sires !0 see your sweet seil and the little jo} hunger to hear some Christian hymu singing. I don’t care greatly or sermons. but Lam a believer in byiwns. 1 teit as ionely in the midst of the con- gregation a8 a Monk Who says prayersin a solitary | cel. The text was, “And they went and told | Jesus.” The discourse was very good, but not as good as the text, I thought, during all the exercises, of how ep diferent i | lead—sometimes all absorbed wit public affairs, sometimes m an entirely dierent, | World and bly at verse-making, sometiines 4 Bull | totes dieereps person and moulding my thougats | for public speect'and the popular assembly, Ditter- ent inclinations, leading to entiray digerens pure | perience, toat public life—particularly such a lie | as that of a young man prematurely tamous—is bad jor the character and cri,pling to the soul, I | 3. | | went to church this morning out o: pure | M | | brought up in this well remembered placi bedtime. Here, two years ago, 1 was cast away by the floods) . . . 1 am glad you came with Me to the cary. It made me more cheertul than if I had leit you in the tearful mood in which | you and Florence stood in the parior this morn- ing. Your tears compelled mo to be somewhat reserved lest /should have tears to matun. Your parting question, wheter or not your love totally and thoroughly satistied me, would have | been answered by @ very demonstrative hug | round the neck, were it not that spectators were | looking into the carriage, and the HERALD might | have contained, the next day, ® report of the | scene, Ido not think it possible for a humai love another more heartily and more than you love me. And I believe that m. return, 18 a8 much as it 1s possible for a nm bear toward a woman. Whether a wife loves more than a husband or a husband more than @ wile, 1 am unable to say. I | Know one thing, however, and that is:—I would | not exchange my Wile fur any other in the world. | if | were to-‘lay an uumoored ship, 1 Would avchor | in the seir-same harbor of peace which your own true love has made ior me, You still chide yourself for a fancied faliure in filling your husband's ideal of a wile. No--you have created my ideal of a wife, and (like God’s mercy) are “better than 1 could ask or think.” } You kvow that, though L am given to entnusi- asm, and therefore to the intense expression of being to | sublimely | 'y love, n to | warm affection, nevertheless I uever speak flat- | teries, and pot olten praise. But, now that I am | face to jace With a taree months’ absence trom | | home, your own love, eXampie, character and re- | buke of my imperfectness by your true moral no- bility, are the chiel inspiration of my Ie and labor. 50 goud night. Ever yours, THEODORE. BEECHER “NOT AS MORALLY GREAT AS ME ONCE WAS. SunDay NIGHT, AKRON, O., Dec. 2. My DaRtina: I have just been moved to write along letter to Mrs. B——w about May. It is chiefly avout having a purpose in Iie, aud how to cerry it out. Or late Ihave been thinkiug much of | own ite, you know that Idon’t attach us much import | ance as many do to certain churchly ideas of the | Christian ite. It seems to me that the truest | method, and the surest, of developing a Christian | character, 1s never to swerve irom one’s own in- ward idea of right, whether or not this ideal be in coniormity with the prevailing conventionai no- uuons of good men, or of the best of men, Ll have been looking back upon my ten years of | pans lie and judging of its motives. Looking ack thus, f can see that I have always been earnest and straightforward, but always too much | in the interest of mysell and too littie willing to be | counted as nothing, in comparison with the work | to which I have been set ay an instrument. | Lately I have been endeavoring to ascertain what are ny earthly ambitions, to struggle with | them and conquer them. 1 have no ambition to be | rich—I never bad; noue to be in political ofice; nooe lor social, or fasnionable _pre- eminence; none, that I can detect, for oratorical distinction; and not a great deal for a literary | reputation. My public notoriety occasionally | flashés me with pleasure. But, on the whole, { velieve [can truthiully say that 1 have, in great maarure, put aside the idols woich I used to wor. sbip. I once believed, judging by my personal ex. used to feel this at times in many keen seif-re- proaches. But, woen one has at first tasted the sweets of reputation, and at last of their insipidity, I think be gets @ more sober, philosophic aud just view of what is valuable and what is valueless in life than | in almost any otier way. j A3 @ consequence, many of the men of great | fame whom lotimately know make no such ruling impression on my mind as many of my pri- vate Iriends do. But, uf Thad no reputation myself, I should still | be dazzled by theirs, asl was once dazzied years | ago, Kor instance, I ike Mr. Beecher tn many | respects as Well as Lever did. But he has ceased | to be my soul’s prop—ceased to inapire me to my | best le. [believe he is not as moraliy great as he once was. I do not now reler at all to his po- | litical views. Ais poittical views have made no chauge in my ieelings toward him as a triend. | But there was an older virtue which has since gone out ol him—an influence which used to brighten my itle When {came under its ray; an ininence, however, whicn became gradually queuched iike a vanisiing sunbeam, Henceforth [ tawe no patterns after pubiic men, | great men, famous men. ‘They are not 80 good as my wie and children, Half an hour's talk with irs, —— makes me a better man than a haif | dozen sermons couid do. 1 have had a sweet Sab- bath day, one that has baptized my soul. I spoke to 1,000 cnildren this alternoon, and L have been In a giow ever since. This Will account | Jor the fact that [have written two such sermons | in letters. But now lend. Good night, Forever yours, ‘THEODORE, “ANY MAN IS A FOOL TO BE JEALOUS,” Laporre, Ind., Dec. 6, 1866. My Dartrna: T have ridden all day long, and am just arrived, at dark, about an hour before my lecture. 1 am so excited in mind by a senge of being Imprisoned away from hote aud barred ont by impassable walls, hindered from seeing you by | spotted, miserable and crag) opstacies, that I can do nothing at Moment but wake an outburst of my feelings. lougat pow to be composing myself for my task, but | feel more like taking aight Eastward by the next train, All day long I have been reading “Grimth Gaunt.” Go to the bookstore, buy a copy and read 1t—that Is, 1f you would Like d be doing the same thing witn myself, [am not yet far enougn in the Story to know the moral Meaning, but it has ex. cued me considerably, It turns on jesloner: 1 am not jealous, nor do I know tne feeling. I think any man isa {ool to be jealous. Ii he is jealous without cause, he is foolish; if with cause, more foolish, ButTam somewhat disturbed. and have been for a long while past, at the Spminisning faith which f entertain for human nature, aman characters do not seem so lovely to me as they onee did. Perhaps tis view 18 temporary—the result of @ passing shadow. Or rather, perhaps 1b 1s because | do not entertain so good an opinion ot my own character—its moral streogth and un- bending rectitude—as I once supposed I could Justly entertain. During my travels I nave had profound reflec- Hons on my life, Lam a weak man, supposed to be strong; a selfish man, supposed to be the World's lover and helper; an eartaly-minded Supposed co be more Christian than my fello’ cannot endure the mockery—it breeds agouy # M@. At this moment [am completely wreteded, yet expecting in ten minutes co step forth to @ publie Welcome! The outside life is one ting; the inside another. I dare not show the inside to the world. And yet I must show it perpetually to God. Jam endeavoring to live a manly life—not what the over-generous world shall so esteem, but what, in My inmost conscience, I shall know to be such, I nave had many wrestlings of my soul with Heaven o! late. I tee! inyself scarred, unworthy, Krom this feeling during the day] have taken refuge in my lecture at night—sometimes turning it ale most into a@ sermon. 1 have come to feel ex- actly ag the Prodigal felt. An inward revelation of a man’s self to himself is an awmnl thing. It lifts one’s face to the Eternal World. Hence lorth my rarer is, that God may keep me nearer to Himself. My life 18 so unprofitabie that T some- times dare not turn round and jook upon it. You cannot guess for what one thing I most yearn to see you, Itis to Kueel by your side at our familiar evening prayer. My prayers of late have seemed all spiritiess without you. Iam never so true a man as ip A gi ter ied T haye prayed with my arm around your neck. : It seems to me vow that I cannot live this winter without at least seeing you once or twice, if for no other Moments than Mrst those greatest of all spnments. ry lsee, With agony in the retrospect, how my has been narred by social influences coming tro! your mother—how they disastrously have affected us botn. If you $n uid ever appear to me anythin less than the ideal wontan, tne Christian sain <a I Know you to be, I shall uot care to live aday longer. Icannot write further. I must stop ana go te my audience, 1b 1s dreadful to be so iuil of feeling aslamatthismoment, God bless you! THEQDORE. “YOU ARE MY WHOLE WORLD,” La PoRTE, ‘na., Dec. 7, 1866, My DARLING:— . . . At every Wace where I stop I get seven or eight letters—ior instance, last evening I iound six awaiting my arrival ‘But, durivg all my absence, I have seen only one, sali- tary, precious and prized piece of your own dear handwriting. Give my love to the chicks, kissing them each in the order and pulling their ears genuy for their Ppapa’s sake. You are my whole world. Ever and forever thine, THEODORE. “OW CLEARLY YOU HAVE OUTSTRIPPED ME,” AvRoRA, Ill, Dec. 7, 1866, My DELicious DaRLING: It is a comlort to get out of the cars and sit down to pen and ink and send you my love. . A good landlord and a contented hostier } make a good inn. . ‘The chief burden of my reflections haa been, How shall henceforth keep myseli nobier in spirit, more patient under crosses, more heroio to attain a true manhood, more consonant with God's will? My lite seems to have been thus far a folly. Jam astiamed of it. J have been winning what thé world prizes—honor, reputation, intiue ence—but all these, to tue possessor, are like te golcep apple of the lable; they fal| to ashes im hi ri Seated by the car window, gazing on the prale ries, thinking Ot God’s blessing 10 allowing my sel, 48n heart to beat against your unseifish oni wile of whom I am unworthy—l see how clearly you have outstripped me in What, after all, cone stitutes true Christian character, true nobility add the true object of human life. A Pees Lopes _— at this yihiew Laem Us, Put you sevym to be near me an, ne like a i phase angel. O, my sweet Wier it some. times I am undgemonsirative, and carry my love unexpressed, yet at olher times it glows aha burns: witnin me like a holy fire! I see in wyself so many points of weal wherever you stand against mé as my pro} lam ponringes. in my reflective moods, that I owe my good name and jame in fhe world mo to your influence on my character than to inherent character seu. You cnarged me, whenI came St Be at my secretest thoughts, snd not to chronicie 6: ternal events. | love the people among whom J am here thrown. Tnese Westerners are a noble race. They gtip my hand with @ splendia Wel. come. But, aiter all, tn all their thritt, t activity, tneir prosperity, there 1s somethii nearly every man whom meet that gavors toe much of tos world. 1 sec In you. afd in @ few women, more greatness, such as Christ would have calleg great, than to all tie motley, rushing company of brave and nardy men whom | em counter day by day. And I, too, am no better than they. But yon and Mzs, —— and the gaits are iar abead of us all in the pilgrimuge toward, Zion. Thave thoroughly tésted the vanity of all that part of this lile which most people think best worth the living. Hencelorch 1 wish to join yoo and the company of the goud, the pure, tne prayer- ful, the seil-denying, the Christ-loving, Indeed, my sweet pet, tne other world seems not far off even when this world seems must near. Let 19 | us be wedded anew—with love ipsenarabie and se! everlasting. THEODORE, “GRIFFITH GAUNT” AND “FELIX HOLT.!? 866, My DaRLinc—Tois rattling train soak cil, but I must endeavor to write to say that his a powerful and interesting story—well con- structed, though bot remarkably well written. jt has uot bapuzed and anointed me like our mu- tual reading of “Felix Holt.” Do you not often late at night, we finished that heroic story ? 1 can see you at tos moment lying propped on and your waterproct cloak over your ject. That night and the day that followed tt filled me as fat “GriMth Guuot” ends in a far sweeter and more agreeabie manner than one expects when ne 16 im character in any romance equal to one whicn, if I were a romancist, I could draw from a certaim ‘The novels turn too much on a love asa passion, 4s @ jealousy, a3 & Madncss, as an intense adora- there that one sees 1n a novel the true and periect love of a true and periect Woman—the lowe that Men and women who have tne mere natural instinct lor loving, love with the heart; but the the soul, The noblest part of love is honor, fidelity, nor the kiss of the lips, nor the ecstacy o: lond+ ness. Sometimes that which most delughts the that lovers ought sometimes to be separated. Now, to bear each other in memory, in daily and communimgs of soul Without contact ol the fles In perpetual nearness notwithstanding miles and ennobling—this ig the great prerogat true love. ¥ deadliest until he has ined to such an expertence this of the union of two souls by tneit 4 this ON THE CABS, NORTHERN INDIANA, Dec. pene just finished “Griffith Gaant.”? — jon’t care particularly whether you read it or not, recall that Sweet evening in Twelith street, when, the sola, your red shawl around your shouldera of suman happiness as my heart could hold. the midst Of its pages. But | lave never met a woman I know. tion Jor the ume being; and it isonly here and dwells in the Soul rather than in the heart. who nave a true genius for loving, love wit! stancy, fli igs cg the clasp at the nand, heart most cheats the soul. It is for this reasol hourly pictures of the faucy, in coustant mutual distance, in an abiding reverence, unieigned, lore No man loves 8 woman as a woman loves s man possible interchange. But, in some live: com Dot at all; and, in tue best lives, 1t comes only at the crowning moments. O that we were heroio enough to seek always to live our best possible, lue! 1am trying more than ever. God help us both, Thine reaaansann | THEODORE. “THESE BBECHERS.” Wi 1866, My DARLING: . . was up til siitdy alter my lecture last evening, talking with Ed’ Beecner, mainly about his backsliding Brooklya brotner. Dr. Heecher impresses ine as & man thoroughly true, sincere, simple-heartea and Morally noble. He said that the brothers and sig ters never wrote to one snotoer, or seldom, and that be did not know whether any one or all of them agreed with Henry or with pimself. I trust what my oWn children, i they live to grow up, wilt be more necessary to eacn other’s happiness than these Keechers appear tobe. . . . l occasionally take out your two letters (which are ali that 1 yave thus far received) and read them over two or tnree times. During the re- Mainder o! my tour you must vbige me With & ling at every station—something to meet me there— even if oniya single page, with your name and love signed thereto, ae your love and sympat Jam as dependent a as the cyjidren are. This you will nut belie | itis true. More and more yuu grow into the pic: ture of the periect wile. “ihere is none earth that 1 desire beside thee.” To think of you us tripping up and down stairs, patting the chicks to bed, sitting at the tea , OF anywhere and everywhere ghding agout the houge—this te one of my meditative employments and spiritual delights, Ever yours, THEODORE, a PEELING OF ENVY, 1. JOSEPH, Mo., Dec. 14, 1866, My Daruing— ... . I have just arrived here, in company with Major General O——. He com: mands at Fort Kiley, a post abvut 150 miles furtuer wes Ilook upon. hit with envy, because ne tr basting home to a ove Wile, while | am daily speeding away trom one still lovelier. Yours faith: tully, ‘THEODURE, ‘MY LOVE, MY DELIGHT, MY MINISTARING SPLIT.” MARION, Ga., Dec. 28, 1806, My Dantina: . . . Arter my lecture two let: ters were put into my hand. Isaid to myself, “li one of these is irom my wife I wil) read botn; but Ui neither Is Irom fer 3 will not bead pine atte e Llooked at was your own dea’ ing. 4 THEODOR