at the time. Out of the twelve, eleven members of the household had the fever. The first to have it was Mrs. Palmer; her case was very bad. About the same time, Mr. Axson, a cousin of Dr. Palmer and at the time a member of the household, was affected with the disorder. Mrs. Palmer and Mr. Axson were scarcely convalescent when the children and the servants were seized by it. Their cases were relatively mild, however. Dr. Palmer was the last of his family to take it. He had been going heroically about, ministering to the sick in his own house and to the sick and dying of the city, with apparent impunity. But, late in October, when all were looking hopefully forward to the coming of the blessed frost and when his friends were beginning to feel that he would pass through the pestilence untouched, he, too, was taken. His case was bad; he was exceedingly ill.

The Old School Assembly of 1858 had met in New Orleans. It was in this home that Dr. Palmer had received and entertained the distinguished men whom that Assembly had brought to his doors such as A. T. McGill, Cortland Van Rensaelaer, Lewis W. Green, R. J. Breckenridge, Wm. J. Hoge, George Howe, I. S. K. Axson, etc., of the ministers, and elders of scarcely less note.

In 1859, the congregation purchased for a manse the commodious mansion now numbered 1415 Prytania Street (63 old Prytania). Here the family was to live, while in New Orleans, till 1891. The house was an excellent one for its day, three stories, with ceilings of ample pitch, with large rooms, and abundant offices and quarters in the rear for the accommodation of a considerable number of servants. After its further adaptation, in 1866, to Dr. Palmer's needs, by the addition of a study at the side, it was a most desirable domicile and well suited for the uses and character of the most distinguished pastor of his city and his section. The dignity of its spacious parlors and chambers, the solid mahogany staircase and folding doors impress the visitor of to-day.

This house was to be the scene of much happiness, of a high rational and spiritual order. It was to be the scene of much sorrow, which would not, however, be overwhelming. The Palmers were not to sorrow as those who have no hope. One of the daughters was to be married in this house. All of his grandchildren were to be born there. From the same house three of his daughters were to be carried to the grave.

There was a fine side yard with some splendid trees in it, from which, as from all he looked upon in his daily life, Dr. Palmer is said to have drawn some noble illustrations for use in the pulpit.

This house was to be the home not only of his own immediate family but of many others whom he would yearn to help. "He always had some who needed help in his house, boys or girls, young men or young women."

It was his custom to declare that he had left the business of disciplining his children to his wife; that he had made only two attempts at disciplining them and had been forced to conclude that Mrs. Palmer was better adapted to that form of ministry than he was. One of these fruitless attempts was to secure obedience from his little boy, on occasion of an issue's having been made between them. The other was to teach one of his little girls her letters. Mrs. Palmer seems to have been wise and skillful in the management of her children. Her husband felt that he might safely leave the matter in her hands. The relegation of other forms of attention to his children, even to his best beloved, he would never make. He was a most affectionate father; and as interested as affectionate. He counted not his time too valuable to be given in due measure to his children's development.

In 1857, in order to their escaping the scourge of yellow fever, he sent his wife and children back to Columbia to pass the summer. The living children were all girls. They were Sarah Frances, born September 19, 1844; Mary Howe, born September 1, 1847; Augusta Barnard, born June 23, 1849; Kate Gordon, born August 23, 1853; Marion Louisa, born January 10, 1856. Once each week he would write to one of his daughters. He began by writing to the oldest. Between her and himself quite a correspondence developed. All these letters to his children are redolent of the happiest family life. Some of them are valuable not only for the glimpse they afford of that life but for incidental light thrown on other aspects of his life:

"NEW ORLEANS, June 29, 1857. "MY DEAR FANNY: I do not know whether you will be expecting a letter from father; but I am very sure you will be very glad to receive one, and to know from it how fondly you are remembered and loved. It is a long time since there was an opportunity of writing you, simply because of late we have not been separated; and you are now grown into such a big girl and have so improved yourself by study, that I may

write to you very much as I would to mother, without striving after unusual simplicity of style-such as I must use for Mary and Gussie that they may easily understand me.

"It frightens me almost to think how fast you are growing up into a woman. Almost thirteen now! Why we shall only turn round two or three times before you will be a young lady, and I of course must begin to try and feel old. Be assured, my dear daughter, I am not anxious to have it so. If it were possible, I should like to keep you all children for many years just as you are now, so that the house might always be sunny and glad, as you children make it now. But as this cannot be, I am only anxious that you should rapidly improve your mind, and get that knowledge which as a woman you will need, in order to be happy and useful yourself, and that you may be honored and loved by others. Mother writes me that you have commenced your French and drawing. I am glad of it, provided you are not too closely confined. You have been kept very close all winter, and have studied very faithfully at school and I am desirous that you should romp and play, so as to be strong for study next winter. Still, you may learn a little French with ease, so that you and I can follow it up and talk it together, as I am a learner, too. The drawing too will be a pleasant amusement; and will keep alive your talent for that beautiful art. It is my wish, if God spares my life, to make you an accomplished lady, but of course, very much will depend upon you. I am willing to spend money freely for your good; but all the teachers and masters in the world cannot benefit you, unless you put your mind earnestly to it and determine to profit by their instructions. But, my darling, if I am anxious to have you wise and learned, this is nothing to the intense desire I have to see you pious and good. Oh, my daughter, you do not know how many thoughts I have on this subject; and how often and fervently I pray that God would give you a new heart. Do you remember two years ago this very month when you were so ill, how alarmed you were; how you talked with me, and told me you were afraid to die because you felt that you were not ready? I hoped when you got well, that you would remember all this; and that you would be so grateful to God for sparing your life, as to give him your heart at once. But I was disappointed-you got well, and then forgot all these solemn things. I do not know how much you think about your soul, and whether you pray fervently for a new heart. But I am afraid you do not: and you are now two years older, and know more than you did then. If you should be taken sick and die as you are, it would make me miserable the rest of my life; and though you did not know it, it was as much to remove all risk from you (as aught else), that I was willing to send you all from me this summer. I said, who can tell but God will hear my prayer and give her a new heart before next summer, and then I will not fear for my dear child's soul as I do now. Dear, dear Fanny, will you not think about these things