heart; for, next to your dear mamma, there is nothing so dear to me in this world as you. But the Lord gave you to me, and I have given you to him again, many and many a time upon my knees, and therefore I hope you must, and will, and shall, be his.

I hardly know any accomplishment I more wish you to obtain, than a talent of writing free and easy letters : and I am ready to think, if you could freely open your mind to me, you might inform me of something I should be glad to know, or you might propose to me some things which now and then trouble your thoughts, and thereby give me an opportunity of attempting to relieve, encourage, or direct, you. For these reasons I have requested of your governess to permit you now and then to seal up your letters to me or your mamma without showing them to her. I have asked this liberty for you, only when you write to us; nor even then always, but at such times as you find yourself disposed to write more freely than you could do if your letters were to be seen before you send them. I have likewise told her, that I would desire you to be as careful in writing as if she was to see your letters, and not send us pothooks and hangers, as they say,

because you know she will not inspect your
writing. Under these restrictions she has pro.
mised to oblige me; and I take it as a favour,
for I am well aware that, in general, it is by
no means proper that young people at school
should write letters from thence without the
knowledge of their governess. But your's has
so good an opinion of you and of me, that she
is willing to trust us, and I hope we shall nei.
ther of us make an improper use of her indul-
gence.
I am, with great tenderness,

My dear child,
Your very affectionate father.

*****

****

LETTER XIIT.

January 27, 1783. My dear Child, W ANT of leisure, and not want of inclina

tion, prevented my writing before you left home ; and I now take the first opportunity that has offered since you went from us. If I had no more correspondents than you have, you would hear from me very often; nor can I expect to hear from you so often as I wish, because I consider you likewise have your engagements; and though, perhaps, I am not willing to allow that your business is as important as some of mine, it must, and ought, for the present, to take up a good deal of your time. You have not only reading, and writing, and arithmetic to mind, but you work sprigs and flowers, and maps, and cut bits of paper to pieces, and learn a strange language, so that you are very busy. to be sure; for idleness and sauntering are very great evils, and doors by which a thousand, temptations and

miscliiefs may enter. Your mamma and I are well pleased with you, on the whole; your affection is not lost upon us; we think we can perceive an improvement in you, and we believe the things in which you yet fail, proceed rather from inattention than from the want of a desire to please; and we have a good hope that, as you grow older, you will outgrow that heedlessness which you sometimes discover. You are not yet a woman, but neither are you a child; you are almost fourteen, and at that age a certain degree of thought and forecast may be hoped for, which it would have been unreasonable to expect from you some few years ago. It has pleased God to give you à capacity for improvement; and, as you see we are so situated, that neither your mamma nor I can bestow that time and attention upon you, when you are at home, which we would wish, I hope you will make the best use you possibly can of the opportunities you have at school. It is no pleasure to us that you should live so much from us, for we love you dearly, and love your company; but it is what we submit to for your advantage.

You desired me to send you news, when I should write; but I have little to tell you. ;

'l'he public news you will hear, I suppose,
from twenty people ; it is very important. Thie
Lord is about to give us the blessing of peace.
Neither you nor I can tell the value of this bles-
sing, because we have not known the want of
it. It is true, we have heard much talk of war,
and we have heard of the calamities which war
has occasioned; but we have heard of them as
things which have happened at a distance: had
we lived in America, we should probably have
seen and felt them. We should have seen
towns, villages, and houses, in flames; have
heard the groans of widows and orphans around
us; have had every thing we call our own torn
from us, and perhaps have been glad to hide
ourselves in the woods, to save ourselves.
Such has been the lot of thousands in the course
of the war. If you remember the hurry, con-
fusion, and terror which prevailed at the time
of the riots, it may give you some apprehen-
sion of the case of those who live in a country
which is the seat of war.“ Our apprehensions
were over in a few days; but they live in such
alarms; or greater, from the beginning to the
end of the year. I hope, therefore, you will
be thankful to God, 'if he is pleased to sheath
the sword of war, and to put a stop to the de. "