History of the Fife Pitcairns

THE LIFE OF WILLIAM PITCAIRN. 215
From Mrs Diana Bowden to Mr William Pitcairn.
lltk March /51.
My good Friend, — I was not aware that so many weeks had
elapsed since the receipt of your very interesting letter, dated
the 4th of February.
It is by comparison that we are led very often to set a proper
value on friends and friendly honest actions ; in such estimation
will be your character by all who have had to deal with you, for
you have exemplified the Poet's motto, that " an honest man is
the noblest work of God." Had he been a Christian Poet he
would not have summed up the distinction in so few words ;
nevertheless, in this Godless world, to find a morally honest man
is a very great blessing, but you, my good friend, who are dis-
tinguished by the highly favoured Principle of Love to the Lord
Jesus Christ, you possess a peace, a satisfaction unknown to the
mere moralist ; the conduct of your other Ward excites our pity,
for unless the grace of repentance be given, he will, with the
young man in the Gospel, fall short of heavenly Bliss. He will
have his good things in this life, poor empty unsatisfying pleasures.
I hope I shall not have tired you with my long letter ; but it is
an answer to two of yours. — And now, Believe me, Yrs. sincerely
obliged, D. Bowden.
From The Duchess of Roxburghe, Floors Castle, to
W. Pitcairn, Esqre., 25 Castle Street, Dover.
December 2"$rd.
It is high time, I am sure, my dear Mr Pitcairn, I accounted for
my silence. You will not have thought it unkind, for we are, I
am sure, too old friends for that. But I was not well for some
time ; nothing serious, but I had knocked myself up a little by
over-fatigue — and then the terrible news from the Crimea had an
effect upon me, I really cannot describe. I never got our poor
fellows out of my head — that awful charge! with my precious
Father's regiment in it — then that terrible battle, and my gallant
young cousin Norcliffe Dalton killed. I assure you his young
widow and two helpless infants at Constantinople haunted me and
do so still, and as I look at our own happy unbroken little circle,
my heart seems to bleed afresh, for the many wretched friends and
relatives one man's obstinacy has desolated for ever. Here, thank
God, all is bright.
My sweet Susan, now seventeen, very pretty and (better far than
pretty) all our fond hopes can desire. Our dear Bowmont doing