Julia M. Bachman. 229* 



With his high thoughts, he felt that any special 

 gift was a talent, that called for a special consecra- 

 tion of the same to the Giver. His elder daughters, 

 when they were of ripe age, had rejoiced to renew 

 the baptismal vows made for them in infancy. 



With the same teachings, under the same in- 

 fluences, how was it with Julia? He was jealous for 

 his Lord; not the world, hut the Master, should 

 have the sweet freshness of her youth. With watch- 

 ful eye and prayerful thought, he followed her day 

 by day. Frequently he attempted to draw aside the 

 veil of reserve and timidity that concealed from him 

 her heart, and her mind ; yet all his efforts appeared 

 to him not only unsuccessful, but every new failure 

 seemed to add another fold to the veil that hid the 

 inner sanctuary from his eager gaze. 



She was twenty years of age at the time of her 

 mother's death. From that date the family letters 

 contain allusions to her failing health. 



Her father wrote to John Audubon : 



June 19th, 1847. 



I have been suffering with an inflammation in 

 my eyes they feel as if they had sand in them. I 

 have pressed Sister Maria into service. I am seated 

 with a patch on each eye, while I dictate this answer 

 to your letter, I am not gloomy, only hoping lor 

 more light, better eyes, and better times. * * * 



Before entering into the perplexing part of the 

 letter the naming of the species I must speak of 

 family affairs, Julia's health has failed steadily. I 

 took her, as you know, to Aiken for a few weeks. 

 Her cough is distressing, and she has fever every 



