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Westfield Oct. 25 /51. Dear Sister Lucy. It is Saturday evening. I am sitting by our nice stove, with a good fire blazing in it with the comfortable consciousness that my labors for another week are done, that I can have a little time of uninterrupted quiet to think of home and dear friends, and a little leisure, so seldom enjoyed - to commune in spirit with loves ones far away.- The rain patters on the windows,- the wind comes in fitful gusts, making me feel all the more sheltered and secure from unwelcome intrusion. I feel especially 'out' with' all the world to night and like saying with Emerson, 'Goodbye proud wind; I am going home.' I come from school uncommonly wearied, jaded, and half convinced that it is time for me to give up teaching, retire in covered obscurity, and settle down in quiet the rest of my days in the shades of 'private life.' My labours in school are arduous now, 66 young ladies in school this term - about two evening each week are taken up in correcting compositions which, some of them,- require more labor and ingenuity to bring into agreement with the rules of grammar and style, than to write as many, on the same subjects. It is now near the end of the term too, the dreaded examination' is just ahead - my energies are taxed all day in school, while little is the leisure I can secure out of it - are ever in prayer meeting, another singing in a glee class connected with the Academy, and calls and visits usually steal away the rest I am particularly tired this eve as you doubtless perceive from the tone of my letter- it is because I was out at a 'party' late evening or rather night, for it was past twelve when