February 25.

MY DEAR MOTHER.-You sent me a dear, good, welcome letter, and I kiss you heartily for all its affection and sympathy in my eccentric course. I did not miss out, either, any of the pious parts, but I do think, mother mine, that it is a little hard that you will not believe me when I tell you so seriously that my soul is doing first-rate. You urge upon me the importance of religion-why, bless the dear mother, what am I doing else but living religion all the time? Isn't it my meat and my drink to do the good will of God; didn't I use to sit in the lecture-room and send up a whole cannonade of little prayers; and didn't a whole flood of answers come straight down from the throne of grace? And what am I doing now? Do you think I care about medicine? Nay, verily, it's just to kill the devil, whom I hate so heartily -that's the fact, mother; and if that isn't forming Christ in one, the hope of Glory, why, I don't know what is. So pray comfort yourself, and have faith that such a 'child of many prayers' will be fixed up all straight at last. . . . I live in a good society, the fellowship of hardworkers, for however little the result of my actions may be, I have the strengthening conviction that my aim is right, and that I, too, am working after my little fashion for the redemption of mankind. I agree with you fully in distrusting the 'Harbinger,' and should certainly banish it from my centre table if I had risen to the dignity of possessing one. I dislike their discussions, and their way of discussing some subjects. I think them calculated to do a great deal of mischief, and am only consoled by the reflection that few people read them. I go in wholesouledly for the Divine marriage institution, and shall always support it by precept, and as soon as I get the chance by example too, and all those who would upset it

I consider fools and infidels. I think Associationists too often a very poor set of people, and if they would commence by reforming themselves, and let the Almighty take care of the world, I think they would be much better employed. As to the infidel French philosophy you talk of, it is just twaddle, which I should instantly reject if anybody were to stuff it into me. I am now longing to be at work abroad, where I might spend my time much more profitably—but I do want greatly to see you all again. How long it is since I was at home!--more than five years, I think. I cannot consent to become a stranger to the Geschwistern, and W. and E. & E. seem almost unknown. Good-bye, dear mother. I shall see you soon, and then you will be able to read me sermons to your heart's content.-Your M. D.

I felt, however, keenly the need of much wider opportunities for study than were open to women in America. Whilst considering this problem I received an invitation from one of my cousins, then visiting America, to return with him to England, and endeavour to spend some time in European study before engaging in practice in America. This valuable offer was joyfully accepted, and I prepared for a journey to Europe, first of all paying a short farewell visit to my family in Cincinnati.

Extracts from the Journal.

April 5.--How kind and good and glad to see me they all were! I walked out with S. and met them all. G. had quite grown out of my knowledge. I am very glad to have spent this fortnight at home. We had general and private talks without end.

April 7.--They all came down to see me off. They

stood on the adjoining boat as we sailed away up the river, mother leaning on S., the three sisters on one side, H. and G. on the other, all hearts in sympathy. I could not keep down the tears as I caught the last glimpse of those dear, true ones.

Travelling East, I joined my cousin in Boston, whence we sailed for Liverpool.

Extracts from the Journal.

April 18.-Dear Mr. Channing was with me till I left. His medical uncle, Dr. Channing, also came to see me. I never met my old friend more fully; he regretted deeply this flying visit, which disappointed him in the talks he had planned. Beautiful Boston Bay vanished in the distance. America, that land of memories, was left far behind. I took to my berth and lay there in misery five days and nights. How I loathe the ship!

CHAPTER IV

STUDY IN EUROPE

1849-1851

On April 30 we landed at Liverpool, and I began to make acquaintance with the wonderful and unknown Old World, which I had left when a child of eleven. Everything seemed new and striking. The substantial character of Liverpool, the finished look' of the surrounding country, the extraordinary character of the mining district-all awakened keen interest. My poor cousin being ill with rheumatism, however, we journeyed on at once to his home at Portway Hall, near Dudley. A fortnight was spent in this pleasant home, which, though in the centre of the 'Black Country,' was surrounded by gardens where the flowers were fresh and sweet, the trees in beautiful leaf, whilst the cuckoo saluted us in the morning and the nightingales at night. I gained a glimpse of the lovely English country, and spent a memorable time in examining the novel surroundings of the great mining district of England. The following letters are descriptive of a young student's impressions on revisiting her native land more than a generation ago.

Portway: May 2, 1849.

Thanks be to Heaven, I am on land once more, and never do I wish again to experience that hideous nightmare-a voyage across the ocean. We had the warmest welcome at my cousin's pleasant home. . . . I went one afternoon to see the casting-that is, when the melted iron, like a river of fire, flows into the moulds which shape it. The Russel Hall Works are close by the town of Dudley. There is a wide extent of smoky country, with many little groups of machinery and brick buildings, each constituting or rather surrounding a pit; many mounds of glowing coal turning into coke; piles of ironstone being burned previous to the smelting; the houses of the managers in various directions, the office at the entrance; and immediately in front the two great blastfurnaces, which burn incessantly day and night, making many thousands of tons a year. Very few workmen were to be seen, but underground a whole army of them were hard at work. The casting was very curious. Twice a day the melted iron is drawn off from the bottom of the great brick towers they call furnaces. Strong men with faces as black and scorched as a coal were busy, armed with iron poles, guiding the sea of fire that rushed out into the moulds that covered a great extent of ground, drawing out the white-hot masses of cinders and dirt, and splashing cold water over the front of the furnace to enable them to stand there. We remained at the farther end, but the heat was so great that we had to cover our faces. Suddenly, with a loud noise, the flames burst out from the furnaces, ascending to the very top, immense volumes of black smoke rolled over our heads, and the rushing noise grew louder and louder. I thought some accident had occurred, and looked out for the safest retreat, when I found it was only the clearing of

H