APPENDIX. 533 



be paid. Attend to your studies with diligence, and, above all, endeavor to do 

 nothing — not even the slightest thing — that will tend to humble you in your own 

 esteem. Respect yourself, and others will respect you. I scratch this hastily, with a 

 very incorrigible pen, and fear you will not be able to read it. God bless you, my 

 dear boy. Your affectionate father, 



Richard Penn Smith. 



Under date 



Philadelphia, April 25, 1838. 

 My Dear Son : 



Shortly after the receipt of your letter I procured a copy of the "Actress of Padua" 

 for you, and left it at the stage office; about two weeks after I called to ascertain 

 whether you had received it, and found that it had not been forwarded, but the clerk 

 promised to send it the next day, so I presume you have received it before this time. 

 You shall have your music book, but I fear it will be attended with similar difficulties 

 to transmit it. 



The picture came safe, and your mother has had it handsomely framed and hung in 

 the parlor. The frame cost three dollars, so your present has been somewhat expen- 

 sive to me; but it was an evidence of your good feeling, and it afforded us all much 

 satisfaction. It looks quite flashy, I assure you. 



Thomas wrote to you from Ilarrisburg, and doubtless mentioned Anne's marriage to 

 Mr. Hobart, and the melancholy death of poor David.* Within a few hours of his 

 dissolution he was talking cheerfully of his speedy recovery. We are truly in the 

 midst of death. My dear boy, you are but twelve years old ; and yet in the brief scope 

 of your memory how many of your friends and acquaintance, both younger and older 

 than yourself, have departed ! — within little more than one year, five or six of your 

 own immediate relatives. Think at times seriously upon this, but not with a gloomy 

 spirit. It is as much a condition upon which we receive life, as the necessity of 

 breathing, and remember that death is divested of all terrors to the enlightened 

 and pure in mind. It is the act of a wise man to live in such a way that the close 

 of life will become more cheerful, and hold out far brighter promises than even the 

 sunny days of his boyhood. In this manner I trust you will live 



Your uncle William went to Sunbury a few days ago. His book on " Wisconsin " 

 has been published. Aunt Lydia is living with grandmother at the Falls. Why don't 

 you say a kind word to them in your letters? They are always tiiinking and talking 

 about you, and as soon as they learnt that you required new clothing, they both came 

 to me privately, and wished to pay for a suit. Our sources of gratification in this 

 world, my dear boy, are manifold, and not a few so newhat mysterious. It is beyond 

 your philosophy to understand what pleasure they could derive in spending their 

 money for you, when I cheerfully furnish you with everything necessary; but still it is 

 so, and when you have made some progress in metaphysics, you may amuse yourself 

 in tracing the motive to its pure fountain. You want your clothes by the time of the 

 examination, but you have not stated when it takes place, and really I do not know. 

 They shall be sent soon. 



Little Dick grows finely. He has been very sick with a cold for three weeks, but 

 is recovering. He endeavors to talk, can shake day-day, and pushes a chair from one 

 end of the office to the other. lie looks very much like what you were, and has a 

 rousing big head. Mother scolded at your saying nothing to her in your last letter; 



* David Conden, a bound boy, raised in the family of my grandmother. 



