"_June 26, 1845._ ... No woman can be a true woman, whatever may be her intellectual acquirements or capacity, without that womanly knowledge which will fit her for domestic life, and enable her to fill 'home,' that appointed sphere of most women's duties at some time or other, with all the comforts which alone can make it happy. I do not mean merely the knowledge of the daily routine of outside domestic employments; but the cultivation of the domestic affections, the habits of concession and self-sacrifice, of delicate attention to the little things which go so far to make up the sum of domestic happiness, and the mechanical facility with respect to a thousand minor matters,--all of which nothing but practice in the atmosphere which calls them into exercise can possibly teach. I will not deny that I think a great deal, too, of education in 'common domestic employments,' as a means of happiness and usefulness. I hold that nothing can compensate for a wilful neglect of what may be made the means of so much comfort to others, as order, cleanliness, and a facility in administering to the human wants of our friends, which is peculiarly woman's province. Now, for this part of education, home ought to be the best place. Of course it is impossible, while attending school constantly, to find time for these other matters, and all theoretical learning upon such subjects can be of little use without practice."
Mrs. Ware had found another, new home,--a pleasant cottage built for her use by a friend after she went to Milton, and entered by her and her children toward the end of the year,--her last removal. And highly favored did she feel, both in the society around her and the local situation. No heart could be more alive to the beauties of that glorious "Milton Hill" than was hers. Its rich landscape, its gorgeous sunsets, and ever-varying hues, she enjoyed intensely, for their natural beauty, and not less, if not more, for their moral influence. The thought of her enthusiasm comes over us even now with subduing power, as we stand again at her side on those beautiful heights, to which she longed to lead _all_ her friends, and see the emotion, if we hear not the utterance, of her glowing, admiring spirit. We catch again the earnest words with which she urged a visit there, even in the freshness of her widowed grief. "O this glorious view! I do hope the weather will be good, that you may see it in all its glory. I had no conception of the moral influence of the sublime and beautiful before. I really think one must be _very_ wicked to be troubled about little things, within sight of such a display of the Divine love; even children feel it."