Plymouth

16 The Crescent

May 12^th/63

I thank you My Dear Friend for your last very dear letter. You know how fully I appreciate the kindness which—at this time—prompts you to write even a few lines to me. And it is useless to repeat that my own thoughts are as ever, always with you, following you in your present conflicts and labors—My heart and my hands are still daily uplifted, in hope and steady confidence for you and your dear people—to God, our only sure refuge is these times of trouble—And

to the end. I shall continue thus to pray—If called hence before seeing the Slave's full redemption I cannot help believing that in the world of spirits mine will still even then intercede for you and for them—Dear Friend my thoughts as usual rise and overflow. It is difficult to restrain them—but the effort must be made your valuable moments must not be taken up by them. You are never—never—forgotten—the very hairs of your head are committed to the care of our Almighty Preserver by your friends across the Sea. I feel assured

that you will be cared for and watched over. No evil will befall you—even on the battle field if it be God's will to call you there. Yet I pray that you may not be needed there. Oh—no, not there. Your life is your people's life therefore most precious. God preserve and prolong it for long and happy years to come. I have written to dear Rosetta several times I hope she is now with you, consoling and cheering you and her Mother in the absence of her dear brothers. May God preserve them.

I wonder if Rosa received a little note which I enclosed in my last to dear M^r. Cheever. I hope you have received my letter of the 16^th of March enclosing five pounds. You must not write about it dear Friend. Only let me know through dear Rosetta if you have it safe. I long to get the dear Carte de Visite which you have promised me. Please do not forget to send them very soon. Oh yes, it is a great happiness to possess the portraits of those we love. I have an altar in my little room. I wish you could see it. Upon it the images of many dear friends are placed.

Before the dearest of them all, I always keep flowers—They abound here—in all colors. And it is a real joy and consolation to me whenever I place a vase of the choicest which friends often lend to me—before a dear most valued portrait—and accompany the offering with my hearts best blessings upon the beloved friend whom it so truly represents. You will perhaps think all this very childish. My poor life is deprived of the joys and pleasure, which are the portion of most of those who surround me—but God has given me the duty of finding

calm happiness in many things which others despise or pass by unnoticed. I love to think that the poor slave—seemingly so destitute of all that can make life endurable enjoys many a happy hour in the contemplation of the exquisite beauties of nature. Oh—yet God is love—but man is very cruel—

Dear friend. Will you forgive my impatience about the Monthly! I know it is not your fault that I have not received it for so many months. I do so prize its contents they are your words—your thoughts—and I want to have it for myself—that I may read—and reread it.

M^rs Rawson has invited me to spend my vacations at Wincobank this Summer but I do not think I shall be able to go there. If I can possibly manage it I want to go to Switzerland where I have not been for five years. I have many invitations—Now that I am not really in want of a home—I am trying to forget and to forgive fully the past neglect of those whom I once thought would be true friends in need.

I want my affections to become more & more unselfish to love for the sake of loving and not to be loved in return—dear Miss Carpenter of Bristol has shown me such

kind affectionate interest since I met her this winter—I much value her affection—

My dear Friend—I send you two photos after not knowing which will please you best. I hope to have a better likeness to send you by & bye—if I can get one—I find it difficult to sit or stand in a stiff attitude The last was done here—Rosetta I think has the one done in Cheltenham—It is the dear book you gave me. I hold it in my hands. My very precious book. When you do find time to write, tell me much, very much about your own self. God be with you and bless you. God hasten the day of your rejoicing.

Forever yours, Rosine A. Draz