"Dorchester, July 25, 1821.

"I wrote you last rather a monotonous round of sedentary employments, occasionally interrupted by a visit to the city, or a ride about the country. On the whole I enjoy life highly, although my present mode is so novel a one, that I am sometimes at a loss to decide whether it is actual enjoyment or negative indulgence of ease. But country life is a privilege I estimate most highly; that I can at all times, when I raise my eyes, find my thoughts so forcibly directed, by all I behold, to that 'still communion which transcends the imperfect offices of prayer and praise'! I am persuaded that it is far easier to cultivate a devotional spirit here than in the confusion of life, and to have a deeper sense of the presence of God in the heart. Feeling is little, to be sure, unless it fortifies for action; but in the hour of trial, we find great assistance in recalling past exercises, and in spiritual as well as temporal concerns habit is a powerful coadjutor. That high-wrought state of feeling which some of the splendid appearances of nature often produce on a heart which has once felt the power of piety, is ridiculed as enthusiasm of the most dangerous kind; and I do not myself think it is any test of religious character; but as far as the enjoyment of the present moment is of any importance, what can exceed it? We are, indeed, too apt to feel that we have been on the mount, when it was but a vision which we saw; but where it does not so deceive us, nothing but a good effect can result from its indulgence. I recollect part of a description of this state of mind in Wordsworth's Excursion, which from its accuracy has remained in my mind, though I forget the scene which suggested it:—

'Sound needed none,
Nor any form of words; his spirit drank
The spectacle; sensation, soul, and form
All melted in him; they swallowed up
His animal being; in them did he live,
And by them did he live; they were his life.
In such access of mind, in such high hour
Of visitation from the living God,
Thought was not; in enjoyment it expired.
No thanks he breathed, he proffered no request.
Rapt into still communion that transcends
The imperfect offices of prayer and praise,
His mind was a thanksgiving to the Power
That made him; it was blessedness and love.'

"I have got Samor to read, because you recommend it, and am shocked to find how unfit my mind has become for every kind of application in the way of reading. I know you think I am greatly deficient in that kind of literary taste which fits one for an agreeable companion,—and I feel most sensibly that it is true. But I am fully persuaded that if the sentimental requisites of an interesting character are only to be derived from books, I must go through life the plain matter-of-fact lady I now am; it is too late for me to work a reform.

"Mary."

Not long afterward, an event occurred of no little interest and importance to Mary,—the marriage of her true friend, now Mrs. Paine, who went to reside in Worcester. In a letter dated May, 1822, we find a full expression of the thoughts and wishes caused by this event, but of too personal and private a character to be used. The letter closes with an allusion to herself, showing that she had trials and experiences of her own, not to be disclosed to the public eye. She speaks of the previous winter, as "a remarkable era, never to be forgotten. Its perplexities have passed away, but its blessings have increased and become consummated. We have all found it an important period, and to some of us the most so of life. How far it has improved us, He who searcheth the heart alone knows; but for myself, I feel that it has been a scene of more mental suffering than I ever before knew. You have seen it, and will not misunderstand me when I say that, had I been more indifferent, I should have escaped much torture. But it has been a good lesson for me."

There are few greater demands upon the exercise of a sound discretion and practical wisdom, than the giving counsel and exerting a right influence on sceptical minds. Nor is it often that such minds are willing to open themselves, and confide their doubts or indifference to a Christian friend. Unfortunately, Christians are apt to be either too careless in their conduct, or too morose in their manners and severe of judgment, to make a favorable impression on the sceptical, and win their confidence in the assurance of a generous sympathy. We dare not conjecture how much of the infidelity of the world, and the unhappiness of the unbelieving, is owing to this cause. We are sometimes driven to the fear, that Christians themselves may have as much to answer for as those whom they exclude for their unbelief, and whom they fail to impress with the power of their own faith, or the beauty of their holiness. We have many intimations that this was felt peculiarly by her of whom we write. And it is one indication of character, and of the aspect and influence of her faith, that many came to her freely with their doubts and difficulties. Some of the particular cases cannot be published.

But where no names are used in her account of them, nor a hint given of the persons intended, there can be no impropriety in offering the facts as related. The reflections with which she accompanies them may be profitable to both classes of minds, the believing and the doubting.

Under date of August, 1822, Mary writes to her former instructors in Hingham, giving with other incidents the following case of hard indifference, if not infidelity.

"This leads me to a subject upon which I want assistance. I have lately met with a person of my own age, who, though living in a Christian land, under the public dispensations of the Word, from the more powerful influence of those with whom she has lived and the want of education, is as it were wholly ignorant of what religion is, in any form, except as it is in some way connected with going to church, but without the least feeling of what that connection is. She is not deficient in strength of mind, or capacity to receive instruction on the subject, but without any idea of the necessity of any other principle of action than she already possesses; that is, a firmness of purpose proceeding from natural decision, and a patience under trial, because experience has taught the weakness and uselessness of irritation. Now this seems to me an opportunity of doing some real good. I have almost unlimited influence over her from the strong affection she feels, and, as my opportunities are few, I cannot neglect this one without reproach. But that dreadful consciousness of incapacity will place its iron hand on my wishes. I am aware that much might and ought to be done, but that much, if not every thing, depends on the first impression. She must be made to feel the necessity, in order to be excited to the pursuit of piety; and how this is to be done I know not. Never did I feel so forcibly the imperfection of the characters of Christians, as on this occasion. To be able to point to one example of the power of religion in producing that uniform loveliness of character and happiness of life of which it is capable, would do more than volumes of argument to such a mind and heart. It has made me shrink at my own unworthiness of the name I bear. Could you find a moment to assist me in this undertaking, you would confer an unspeakable kindness.

"M. L. P."

Another more decided and serious case came to her knowledge about the same time,—a case of avowed atheism, confided to her for relief, and most kindly and wisely met by her; so that, while she supposed no effect had been produced, the work was going on, and an intelligent, troubled spirit came out of darkness into marvellous light. This success, which seems to have surprised her, was apparently owing to the beauty of her own religion, and the harmony and happiness of her life, which the doubter could not fail to see, which indeed first induced the confession, and was more effectual than any formal arguments; another evidence of the power and responsibility of the Christian course and character. "What a responsibility did this trust impose on me!" Mary writes; "for I knew that no human being but myself was aware of it. It was too much to bear alone; I was unequal to it, I dared not attempt it for a time, I knew that so much depended on the very first step in such cases."