Tom's Letter From the Seat of War—The Pilgrim's Progress—Niagara Falls—Visit to Canada—Letters From Richmond Hill—Great War Interest in Canada—The Girl's Letter to Papa—Tom's Letter and Poem on the Great Fight With the Bloodhounds in South Carolina.
I have always believed that it was because the Lord loved me that He gave me so good a husband, who, by the bye, is preserved to me yet, and for the same reason, that He allowed me to have my dear mother with me again. She has been the very joy of my life, and is with me still. I would have missed my gallant and devoted Tom in no small degree when he went away to the war among so many others of the brave and true, only he was so attentive about writing me letters during his absence. I have kept all those missives of his, and laid them carefully away, and I have always said they would make a good book if they were printed; and some day I may put them in book form.
And Tom's numerous and well-written letters were not only a perpetual treat and joy to myself, but the two sweet girls, and Mr. and Mrs. John B. Sutherland, and a few select friends who came round the house seemed never to tire of reading his letters. He also wrote each of them a separate letter occasionally, but as a general thing, his long letters to myself had to serve for all.
During all this time the girls were growing up finely, and every twelve months I had their photographs taken and sent to him to let him see how nicely they looked in their New Year's dresses. Tom sent up photographs of himself in his plain soldier's dress, and also in his officer's dress, after his promotion. Poor Tom! My eyes often filled with tears when his letters came, and I sat down with an anxious heart to read their contents. I knew, of course, that the children and I should be provided for, should Tom be numbered with the slain, but we all longed to see him, and prayed much to Almighty God that if it was His gracious will our Tom might come home to us once more from the war.
SCENES AT NIAGARA FALLS.
It was at this time that one Christmas my two daughters were cojointly presented with a large, splendid, and well-illustrated copy of "The Pilgrim's Progress"—a book that attracted them so much that they have been reading it ever since! This glorious book kindled up all the latent enthusiasm of their souls, and in their excitement over "Doubting Castle," "Vanity Fair," and a hundred other wonders, they even wrote letters to their father about that wonderful book and its author—the tinker and preacher of Bedford. Their youthful enthusiasm amused their father very much, and he wrote back to them at once to read all in the Pilgrim's Progress that they wanted. They used to take turns with the book; one would read for an hour at a time, and the other would listen. I have always looked back upon the coming of that book into my house as a real blessing.
And still we always continued to attend the ordinances of our sweet little Church on Vine street—attended them on the Sabbath and during the week. The girls went to the Sunday School, and we adults assisted all that we could.
As Niagara Falls were not more than twenty-two miles away, we all occasionally took a holiday and went down and spent the day there, crossing over to the Canadian shore by way of the Suspension Bridge, that we might stand on Table Rock and see the great "Horseshoe Fall." Well, really, the Falls of Niagara are a wonderful sight. Even our own smaller American Fall is a splendid sight, though rather diminutive compared with the great Horseshoe Fall on the Canadian side of the river. I can never understand how a mere puny man can stand before the great Creator's works here, and say, "There is no God."