About a month after my husband's death, Mary and I left Auchindinny with many tears. It had been a blessed home to us for five years, and we left it uncertain as to our future plans, and with that feeling of desolateness which the breaking up of such a home involves. We had enjoyed much, and we had suffered much there. We had formed several warm friendships among our poor neighbours, and we had enjoyed the visits of many valued friends, from far and near; dear Mrs. Erskine, the widow of Henry Erskine and the sister of Sir Thomas Monro, was a frequent guest, a delightful companion to old and young. Mr. Fletcher delighted in her society, and so did my daughters. She cheered the latter years of her distinguished husband as no one else could have done, for she understood all his wit and wisdom, and supported him under many family trials by her unfailing sweetness and genuine piety. We had frequent visits from that delightful thinker, writer, and converser, Thomas Erskine of Linlathen, to whom we were so deeply indebted for the kind interest he took in my son Angus during the dangerous illness he had at Rome in 1827. T. Erskine and my old friend Mr. Clowes were more of kindred spirits than any men of spiritual natures I have met with in life. Dear Mrs. Grant of Laggan, and her daughter Mary, who had all her genius and more refinement, were often with us.