Morgan Dec. 6. 1851.My Dear Caroline
Your letter of inquiry was received last evening but I cannot comply with your request. The scenes of sickness and death through which I have present [?] have unfitted me for business at present, especially teaching as that requires ones thoughts and energies to prosecute the work successfully. The loss of such a faithful, kind, affectionate companion in my mind is not small, neither can my mind be easily divested. Objects and scenes without may divert the external eye but there is an internal vision that sees only the object of my early [?] and constant love. With him my heart has ever been, and ever will be till his spirit is sent to welcome me home. How sweet will that moment be which will grant me a release from this weary life and introduce me into my home with my loved companion where no sin, sickness, sorrow nor death can enter, where there will be no more painful separations such as take the lifeblood from the heart, but I suppose a narration of my griefs and trials my loneliness and little weepings will not interest others but there is an eye that looks down and pities his creations an ear that listens to every cry and groan made there is an arm that can support all who will lean upon it. What utter despair would hang around my pathway were it not for the assurance that nothing occurs without the knowledge of God, and that he directs all things in infinite wisdom the afflictions of life would be beyond endurance.
I regret to learn that Cornelia is still so feeble and that your plan of teaching must be frustrated but I do not regard it a duty for me to supply your place. I could not do it, my feelings, nor my health would not permit, besides my friends here would be utterly opposed to such an occupation so far away from all that is left me on earth. I hope you may see some way of having your place supplied.
I cannot tell how long I shall remain here it matters but little in which place I am, nothing but loneliness awaits me, all my earthly hopes and happiness are forever fled. Death never made earth so desolate to me before. I loved brother Charles and felt his loss deeply but it bore no comparison to the present affliction with [which?] then had still some bright spots left but now it has not even one.
The sun of my life is quenched, and in a moment as it were I was transferred from noonday brightness to midnight darkness, but these are scenes we must prepare ourselves to meet. My dear husband is with the blessed throng that have washed their soles and made them [...] in the blood of the Lamb, happy soul, & long to be with him. You see I have not confined myself strictly to business mother. My desire is to know which way the hand of the Lamb will lead me by this providence.
Your deeply afflicted friend
Martha.