LETTERS OF ANN WILLSON. To H. S 1st month 29th, 1820. With friendship's request I would willingly comply, could the effusions of my heart in any wise interest, but thou knowest, my dear H., 'tis with me mentally a season of gloom and dejection, and Anna's mind well accords with the sadness of nature over which winter has cast her freezing mantle-even so has sorrow thrown her sable garb over the gaiety and cheerfulness of my thoughts. Can then a solitary recluse light up a ray of pleasure in the peaceful heart of her absent (though well-loved) friend? but this may my dull scrawl say-though adversity has waylaid my path, yet has she not been able to chill the genial stream of love which full oft flows towards thee. New things are not for Anna to communicate, for she has remained in home's vicinity ever since thou left us, and had it not been for the kindness of some friends who called a few minutes, I should, I suppose, have remained ignorant of thy departure. I rejoiced to hear thou hadst set out on a little jaunt of enjoyment, though I am a loser thereby. Notwithstanding the snow has thrown her fleecy carpet over earth's surface, and wrapt in white each little twig, and clouds have veiled the fair face of the spangled sky, yet have I been a nocturnal rambler with Hervey, and listened with interest to his nightly contemplations. I think he has a peculiar faculty for drawing an importantly pious inference from even trifling subjects. Dost thou not, with me, when reading works of this kind, feel respect approaching to veneration for their author? Father has not been so well for a day or two past; his is so variable a complaint that I am oft ready to tremble lest the next change may be a final one. Thou may'st, my dear, conclude, I lack magnanimity to bear with becoming firmness the ills of life; of this I am sensible, yet still trust my friends will cherish for me a sympathetic feeling, well knowing 'tis difficult for nature passively to yield to so trying an allotment, and resignedly to say "not my will but thine," Parent of Wisdom, "be done." Assuredly believing that charity abideth among the inmates of thy heart, to her I refer thee for a palliation of each fault, and am, in affection sincere, thine, &c. ANNA. To H. S 1820. I have for days past, been waiting an opportunity verbally to thank thee for the plant of feeling,* well assured it accords with the delicacy of thy own sympathy, which, though words have seldom expressed, I have deeply felt for silence possesses a voice more eloquent than language. Suffice it to say, I have understood and acceptably received it but acknowledgement therefor has only been mentally uttered; well I knew, did I orally make known the gratitude which rested on my heart, it * Sensitive Plant. would unlock the portals of sorrow, and perhaps so much unhinge the little strength of mind I am possessor of, as to unfit me for enjoying thy company and converse during the remainder of the time we were together; therefore I have suppressed the feeling which flowed secretly and silently towards thee-'tis very necessary I should endeavor to overcome nature. In my dear mother's bosom the wound continues yet too fresh, and 'tis my duty, as a daughter, as much as in me lies, to soothe and console her, though well I know to me belongs not the power effectually to do this, but I trust my cheerfulness will assist in supporting her drooping spirits, and my fervent and ardent desire is, that He, in whose hand remains Gilead's all powerful balm, will remember us, and in his own appointed time pour forth the oil of consolation and comfort. Not without agitated emotions, and a tremulous hand, do I commit these lines to thy perusal; cast over them the mantle of sisterly feeling; and believe with me that mutual confidence is one of friendship's first laws, without which, the tender pledge of reciprocal affection cannot gather strength. Feeling quite indisposed this morning, I retired to my chamber as if to repose, but "sleep swift on his downy pinions flies from woe, and lights on lids unsullied with a tear," on hearts unladen with a sigh. My love is to thee and with thee affectionately. Farewell. ANNA. To S. A. W Rahway, 10th mo. 17th, 1820. My friend S. has many times during the past week, been the companion of my mind, but varied engagements have hitherto prevented my telling thee so; when thine arrived, the rain was pouring upon our dwelling; but Anna welcomed the storm of the morning that brought with it tidings of Sally Ann. I regret to hear disease still lingers in your metropolis; but, alas! 'tis not in P. alone, that its effects are known and felt; for the voice of grief is also heard in our land; the messenger undeniable has again visited earth—the amiable Bertha is with me a fatherless mourner. I feel for her, and I trust mine is sympathy sincere, for I have wept over the relics of departed worth, and felt the full solemnity of sorrow at a time when my own life was not precious in my sight; yet there is a consolation attendant on the exit of the Christian with which naught below can be compared ; and in this alone have I really found the "joy of grief." Oh! that the same comfortable evidence may be the soother of my dear afflicted friend, whom I have not seen since the consignment of dust to dust; but I greatly desire to clasp her hand in mine, and alleviate as much as in me lies the anguish of her heart; yea, for I can set my seal to the words of Irving, "there are moments of mingled sorrow and tenderness, which hallow the caresses of affection;" but why should I dwell upon those things? May the clouds of the mental hemisphere, at least for a season, be dispelled and the sun of pleasure beam through the shades of the past. Hast thou seen a little piece entitled the Good Master and the Faithful Slave? a noble portrait, I think, of a generous feeling mind in the former, and attachment and gratitude in the latter. I would have sent it thee, but feared I should only burden thee with what thou hast already perused. How serious and how fraught with instruction is the present aspect of nature! the vegetable world fast decaying, is truly emblematical of man's frail declining state. The bud and the leaf in renovated beauty again shall shoot forth, but "man's faded glory, what earthly change shall renew." This day has been so cold that I have been almost shaking in our fireless store, and fear from this first introduction of cold weather, Winter will encroach largely on the premises of his neighbor, Autumn; and glad enough have I been, at intervals, to get a seat in the little back room chimney corner. Thou may, if thou wilt, fancy me gabbling to my customers, but take care not to listen to "very good and very cheap.” From cousin M. I this day expected letters, but come they have not; to what cause to impute the omission I know not; but believe, from the import of her last to me, that when the query is made, "are Friends just in the payment of their debts?" she will find herself lacking. Mother and A. desire their love may have a place in this, I had almost said, worthless scrawl; but of as little value as it is, it may be the bearer of my sincere love to S. A. To S. A. W. Rahway, 7th mo. 18th, 1821. Embosomed in that enjoyment which thou well knows my cousin M. can bestow, how can I be otherwise than one of the children of pleasure? Yet, mark it, dear, "the thorn, though secreted, still lurks near the rose"yes, joy and sorrow are mingled in life's illusive path; and if thou wilt not deem it intruding on the hours devoted to joy and rejoicing, I will speak; otherwise my pen must be silent, for with notes of gladness I cannot |