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LETTERS. lp
monients and situations in life when one requires a burst
of anger, to be able to grapple powerfully and lend justice
a strong helping-hand. But such moments come seldom ;
and the danger of falling, in the annoyances and little
vexations of every-day life, from a noble into an ignoble
anger, is so great, that we ought to do all we can to govern
and conquer, this emotion and its eruptions. When our
Saviour, in noble wrath, thundered his anathema against
the hypocritical Pharisees, He knew what He did. But we,
weak, narrow-minded beings, often know not what we are
doing when our feelings are agitated. A noble, high-
minded character ought, therefore, not to quell any of the
feelings which the Creator has interwoven with his nature;
but he ought so to rule and direct them, that, like the
waves in a river, they fertilize its banks without inundating
them.
And now to something more trivial. Whilst you, Fran-
ces, are waging a war here and there in the world, we spin
out life here in quiet and peace. I begin now firmly to
believe that, for Agatha’s sake, we could not, have come to
a better determination than to remain at Arsta over the
winter. I did not believe this last autumn; but in all
transitions fron one condition to another, there arises usu-
ally some suspense, something wavering ; in a word, some-
thing uncomfortable. So it is in the autumn, within as well
as out of doors, when we have’ to pass from summer ‘into
winter. When we are tacking, the sails hang shivering
uneasily until they are again caught and swelled out by the
wind. ‘Thus it was with us last autumn. We have now
tacked about ; our sails are again caught and filled, if not
by a strong, at all events by a steady and gentle breeze.
We are bounding along, and ever and anon we call out,
“ All’s well!” During day-time I am left much alone ;
but in the evenings I read aloud to our mother and Aga-
tha, until we take our little “tea-supper,” and soon after
bid one another good-night. Agatha and I then chat
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