216 John Bachman. 



I trust that my health may improve, and that 1 

 may have the strength to assist your Aunt Maria in 

 taking care of my family. Love to Julia and Mr. 

 Haskell — kiss little Bachman a thousand times for 

 me. Your affectionate mother. 



H. B. 



Our Mother, was a skillful needle-woman; when 

 an unfortunate rent had been made in some delicate 

 fabric, no hand could repair and conceal the defect, 

 better than her's. We brought to her our brokeu 

 toys to mend ; and, in our games, she would even 

 straighten the bent pins for us. Her chamber was 

 the quiet, peaceful spot, where we took our books to 

 study a hard lesson, or to write our school compo- 

 sition. Frequently, and not unwillingly, we shared 

 with her, the dainties provided specially for tiie in- 

 valid. How many daily lessons of fortitude, patience 

 and unselfish devotion to God and duty, her holy 

 example taught us in the days of childhood. 



Years after, when the gentle sufferer was with her 

 God, we found a pencilled diary, ij] her hand-writ- 

 ing — it was a revelation to us. The little book was 

 intended for no eye but her own. It was dated from 

 the home of her daughter, Harriet, (Mrs. Haskell.) 

 and written during her absence from her husband. 

 It revealed to us, the strength and beauty of a wife's 

 devotion to her husband — the little prayer of thanks- 

 giving, recorded wlien she had been comparatively 

 free from pain during his visits to her, and could bo 

 a helper, not a hindrance, to him in his arduous 

 labors, opened to our view a singularly pure and 



