1.  [I recognised your letter, as one recognises one’s friends’ children from their obvious likeness to their parents.  Your saying that to describe the kind of place I live in, before letting you hear anything about how I live, would not go far towards persuading you to share my life, was just like you; it was worthy of a soul like yours, which makes nothing of all that concerns this life here, in comparison with the blessedness which is promised us hereafter.  What I do myself, day and night, in this remote spot, I am ashamed to write.  I have abandoned my life in town, as one sure to lead to countless ills; but I have not yet been able to get quit of myself.  I am like travellers at sea, who have never gone a voyage before, and are distressed and seasick, who quarrel with the ship because it is so big and makes such a tossing, and, when they get out of it into the pinnace or dingey, are everywhere and always seasick and distressed.  Wherever they go their nausea and misery go with them.  My state is something like this.  I carry my own troubles with me, and so everywhere I am in the midst of similar discomforts.  So in the end I have not got much good out of my solitude.  What I ought to have done; what would have enabled me to keep close to the footprints of Him who has led the way to salvation—for He says, “If any one will come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross, and follow me” Matt. xvi. 24.—is this.]