Ernest nearer to me than ever, and I can see that this varied
discipline has softened and sweetened his character. Besides, we have
modified each other. Ernest is more demonstrative, more attentive to
those little things that make the happiness of married life, and I am
less childish, less vehement-I wish I could say less selfish, but
here I seem to have come to a standstill. But I do understand
Ernest's trials in his profession far better than I did, and can feel
and show some sympathy in them. Of course the life of a physician is
necessarily one of self-denial, spent as it is amid scenes of
suffering and sorrow, which he is often powerless to alleviate. But
there is besides the wear and tear of years of poverty; his bills are
disputed or allowed to run on year after year unnoticed; he is often
dismissed because he cannot put himself in the place of Providence
and save life, and a truly grateful, generous patient is almost an
unknown rarity. I do not speak of these things to complain of them. I
suppose they are a necessary part of that whole providential plan by
which God moulds and fashions and tempers the human soul, just as my
petty, but incessant household cares are. If I had nothing to do but
love my husband and children and perform for them, without let or
hindrance, the sweet ideal duties of wife and mother, how content I
should be to live always in this world! But what would become of me
if I were not called, in the pursuit of these duties and in contact
with real life, to bear restless nights, ill-health, unwelcome news,
the faults of servants, contempt, ingratitude of friends, my own
failings, lowness of spirits, the struggle in overcoming my
corruption, and a score of kindred trials!"

Bishop Wilson charges us to bear all these things "as unto God," and
"with the greatest privacy." How seldom I have met them save as lions
in my way, that I would avoid if I could, and how I have tormented my