1/93] R£^"- ^VILLIAM SMITH, D. D. 375 



no more. I soon came from the ground and saw my dear son leaning 

 against the wall, for he would not enter the house, nor amidst the dis- 

 tressing scene could we exchange a word, but such as expressed my 

 desire, and his ready obedience that he would fly to his sister and over- 

 take the messenger. This he did at eight miles distance from town. 

 I have heard no more, and I dread to hear from a daughter who loved 

 and knew the value of such a mother. 



But much remains for me yet — my son Charles and his wife, my 

 brother and his wife, my son Richard at Huntingdon, in whose bosoms 

 she was equally precious. I can find no conveyance, and hard will be 

 my task to write if my spirits and health can be supported so long. 



For that reason only, and a few more family matters not yet 

 arranged — especially a codicil which my dear wife's death makes neces- 

 sary to my will — if it will please God, I would pray for a few days con- 

 tinuance of health. Then as to worldly matters I shall be prepared, and 

 through the goodness of God I trust I am preparing, though we can never, 

 never be fully prepared (except in his mercy) in our spiritual matters. 



If God continues me longer, my worldly concerns will be in a small 

 compass. His goodness having given me time to distribute a sufficient 

 inheritance to my children, acquired, I trust, honestly and industriously 

 without injury to any man, and I hope and believe from the goodness 

 of all my children, in whom I consider myself blest, they will use it 

 accordingly. For the rest of my days, and they cannot be many, I 

 would willingly devote them to discharge some public engagements by 

 assorting and leaving to the world some sermons and other writings. 

 But if they cannot have my last hand, my executors, to be named in my 

 proposed codicil, must suppress all, except what I have already published 

 and avowed. 



My friend, Mrs. Cadwalader, and Mrs. Bond, press me with your 

 advise to take calomel and jalap, etc. — I know nothing of preventatives 

 — and then to move out of town, but I wish not to remove to a distance 

 from you for some days yet, nor until you advise. I trust you will soon 

 be so restored that you may have a personal interview. If moving for 

 a few days to my daughter's will change the scene a little, perhaps it 

 may be of use. 



Thus, my good friend, I have poured into your bosom, confidenti- 

 ally, what may be of use to my family, for to none of them have I had 

 leisure, nor would it be yet proper to say so much. The name and mem- 

 ory of my dear wife I must commit to your friendly hand, who knew 

 her virtues so well, to say to the public what may be necessary ; but of 

 this nothing yet, as I would not have her name announced among the 

 dead, until I find means first to notify it to my distant family. Alas! 

 how shall I live without her? I never had a joy which became a joy to 

 me until she shared it. I never had a sorrow which she did not alle- 

 viate and participate. I never did an action which I would consider as 

 truly good, r.ntil she confirmed my opinion. 



