LETTER TWELVE.
London,
My Dear Sister,
We received your last parcel on Friday afternoon, and were both very sorry to hear of poor father's misfortune, and sincerely hope he is now recovering, and that you will be able to inform us in your next that he is quite out of danger. We hope that poor mother is also much better, though we know too surely that her allotted portion in this distressful world will be little else than pain and bitterness. This we know, alas! and have not the power to assuage one single sorrow that oppresses her. But her time here is short. We feel it is so, and that we shall never again behold that careworn countenance, which no transient light but that of the love she felt
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