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But he failed to make me appreciate this obligation of gratitude due a benefactor, who was only restoring stolen prop-erty to its rightful owner. What obligation am I under to the robber who meets me in the street and robs me of all I have, my watch, and purse, and even my wearing apparel, and then comes and asks me to bestow on him my grateful thanks for presenting me my own wardrobe, as his gift.

Either the tumultuous elements surrounding me, or the lack of capacity within me, or both, prevented my seeing this obli-gation due him as my benefactor! My sense of justice will not allow me to thank robbers for gifts which are already my own property; therefore, this reverend divine was obliged to leave, feeling that he was a much injured man, because his benefactions were so little appreciated by his ungrateful beneficiary!

Although the articles from my wardrobe which he brought to me in the prison, were the most inferior part of it, being in the main, clothes which I had done wearing, and had laid aside for donations to others more destitute than myself; yet destitute as I then was, they were very acceptable, for I had ample time for making new things out of old, and thus appear in quite a respectable costume for that place.

But there was one article he brought me, for which I did really feel so grateful, I could hardly control this emotion by my principles or reason. I felt so instinctively grateful for the large roll of writing paper, envelopes, and stationery, that I almost spoke my thanks, before reason had had time to give her verdict to the contrary.

He saw that my joy was almost boundless, at this most unexpected possession.

As soon as he left, I commenced writing a letter to my children on it, feeling no need of secrecy now. Therefore, when Dr. McFarland caught me quietly using my stationery, he, in astonishment, inquired:

"And where did you get your paper?"

"Mr. Packard gave it to me."

"How did Mr. Packard come to give you paper?"

"I don't know, sir. I suppose, however, he felt that it might be an innocent amusement for me to write here, knowing I loved to write when I was at home."

"How much did he give you?"

"Quite a number of sheets."

"Let me see it."

I then took the roll from under my pillow and handed it to him, saying:

"Here it is."

Before this I had taken out one-half of it and hid it about my person. I did not tell him of this!

He took the roll, examined it carefully and thoughtfully, for some minutes, then putting the whole under the breast of his coat, he remarked:

"I will take charge of this."

And he has been true to his word; for I have been relieved from this charge ever since.

But the matter did not stop here. The Superintendent arraigned the Minister as an intruder into his business, and authoritatively demanded of this husband why he had given paper to his wife.

The husband replied, he did it for her comfort and amuse-ment.

The Superintendent then, after giving the Minister a severe reprimand, finished by the threat, that if he ever attempted to interfere again with his management or discipline of his wife, he should have the liberty of taking her away, forthwith.

This terrible threat silenced the Minister into unanswering submission to the superior mandates of the Superintendent, over the control of his wife's destiny.

CHAPTER XXXI.
My Family Relatives.

Not far from this date I find a copy of a letter I sent to my own dear father in Sunderland, Mass., viz.:

My Dear Father: Dr. McFarland, the Superintendent, has given me permission to write you a letter. This is the first opportunity I have had to write to you. Hitherto all commu-nication with my friends has been denied me, except through my husband.

Father, I am entombed here without cause. But I am trying to bear my wrongs as patiently as I can. The suggestion has often been made that I write to you clandestinely, so that you might know how unjustly I am treated, and some have promised to write for me, but as yet I have thought it best to break no rule of the institution.

My trust in the rectitude of a divine providence, is still unshaken, notwithstanding the clouds and darkness in which my destiny is enveloped.

Yes, my dear Father, your Elizabeth is called to tread a very thorny path. Her road to heaven is through a vast howling wilderness, where no rills of earthly comfort are allowed her, to refresh her weary fainting spirit. Not only are all the comforts and blessings of a Christian home denied me, but even my personal liberty for nearly one whole year, has already been taken from me through marital usurpation.

Oh, my Father! how my heart has bled and my soul grieved in agony, at being thus separated from my own flesh and blood -- my precious children. My own husband has forced me from my God-given charge, and imprisoned me, with no prospect, but that it must be life-long, simply for daring to defend what I thought to be truth.

He has made out a charge of insanity on this ground alone, while in all my conduct he can allege nothing against me. I have neglected no duties, have injured no one, have always tried to do unto others as I would wish to be done by; and yet, here in America, I am imprisoned because I could not say I believed what I did not believe.