Before leaving Plymouth I had the happiness of receiving your dear letter—and the Monthly. I cannot tell you how glad I was to see it at last. You will understand why its non appearance for so many months troubled me. And you will forgive my rather impatient reiterations of the request that it should be sent to me. I take the most intense interest in you and in your cause my very dear friend and surrounded as I am by people who appear as indifferent to it as if there were no downtrodden Slaves in the world. I long all the more to know what is taking place around you and to read your own thoughts about it. Oh that I could tell you all that my heart would now dictate in this letter—but I must not take up your time. I have too often indulged my own selfish inclination during these past years—You have been very kind and patient with me and I am deeply grateful to you for allowing me still to write to you. I know you were displeased with me for sending you that poor little sum in the Spring. That you even had the thought of sending it back grieved me very much had you actually done so it would indeed have given me a terrible shock. Perhaps I deserve it as for having so thoughtlessly and selfishly expressed my anxiety for the future. I wrote when a succession of trials had weakened my faith in the never ceasing care of my heavenly Father. I am much happier now. I feel convinced that I shall never want. Oh never again say that you will give me back that which I have had such joy—such happiness in sending you. Dear Friend if you really believed that which God knows is true—if you believed that I would