"We are all doing as well as usual here, myself among them doing better than usual. My little 'Doctor'[4] does wonders for me. I ride so much, and so advantageously, that I do not know but I shall be bold enough, by and by, to ride to B—— and back in a day, but shall hardly dare do so until I have practised a little more in this neighborhood.
"I want you to analyze more closely the tendency of principles, associations, and conduct, and strive to adopt such as will make it easier for you to go right than go wrong. The moral taste, like the natural, is vitiated by abuse. Gluttony, tobacco, and intoxicating drink, are not less dangerous to the latter, than loose principles, bad associations, and profligate conduct, are to the former. Look well to all these things."
The year 1833 opened with bright and cheering prospects; for, with Mr. Lawrence's increasing strength and improved health, there seemed a strong ground of hope that he might yet recover all his powers, and once more take his place among his former business associates.
He writes at this time to his son at Andover:
"I am as light as a feather this morning, and feel as if I could mount upon a zephyr, and ride upon its back to A——; but I am admonished to be careful when my spirits are thus buoyant, lest I come down to the torpor of the insect, which is shut up by the frost. Extremes are apt to follow, unless I take great care. Last Sabbath, I kept my bed, most of the day, with a poor turn. Brother A. said, on Saturday, he knew I was going to have one, for I talked right on."
In March, he writes:
"The season is coming forward now so as to allow me the use of the roads around Roxbury and Dorchester. My 'Doctor' looks so altered by a two hours' canter, that his own mother would hardly know him at first sight. We continue excellent friends; and I think he has never used me better than during the last few days. We both 'feel our oats' and our youth. I feel like sweet twenty-five; and he, I judge, like vigorous seven."
On April 28, he writes to a young friend:
"When you get married, do not expect a higher degree of perfection than is consistent with mortality in your wife. If you do, you will be disappointed. Be careful, and do not choose upon a theory either. I dislike much of the nonsense and quackery that is dignified with the name of intellectual among people. Old-fashioned common sense is a deal better. * * * *
"There was a part of Boston which used to be visited by young men out of curiosity when I first came here, into which I never set foot for the whole time I remained a single man. I avoided it, because I not only wished to keep clear of the temptations common in that part, but to avoid the appearance of evil. I never regretted it; and I would advise all young men to strengthen their good resolutions by reflection, and to plant deep and strong the principles of right, and to avoid temptation, as time gives them strength to stand against it."
On December 23, he writes to his wife, who had been summoned to the bedside of a dying relative: