The first of January, 1832, found Mr. Lawrence confined to his sick room, and unable, from bodily weakness, to drive out in the open air, as he had hitherto done. He writes to his son:
"I am reminded, by the new year, that another portion of time has passed, by which we are accustomed to measure in prospect the space that is allotted us here; and the reflections at the close of the old and the commencement of the new year are calculated, if we do not cheat ourselves, to make us better than we otherwise should be. I am enjoying myself highly under the close confinement of two parlor chambers, from which I have only travelled into the entry since November. I have lived pretty much as other prisoners of a different character live, as regards food; namely, on bread and water, or bread and coffee or cocoa. I have come to the conclusion that the man who lives on bread and water, if he have enough, is the genuine epicure, according to the original and true meaning. I am favored with the visits of more pretty and interesting ladies than any _layman_ in the city, I believe. My rooms are quite a resort; and, old fellow as I am, I have the vanity to suppose I render myself quite agreeable to them."
On the same day, in a letter of sympathy to his sister-in-law, whose invalid son was about to leave for a long voyage, he writes:
"While my family are all absent at church, I am sitting alone, my mind going back to the beginning of the year just ended and forward through that just commenced; and, in view of both periods, I can see nothing but the unbounded goodness of our heavenly Father and best friend, in all that has been taken from me, as well as in all that is left to me. I can say, with sincerity, that I never have had so much to call forth my warmest and deepest gratitude for favors bestowed as at the present time. Among my sources of happiness is a settled conviction that, in chastening his children, God desires their good; and if his chastisements are thus viewed, we cannot receive them in any other light than as manifestations of his fatherly care and kindness. Although, at times, 'clouds and darkness are round about him,' we do certainly know, by the words of inspiration, 'that justice and judgment are the habitation of his throne,' and goodness and mercy the attributes of his character; and if it should please him further to try me with disease during the period of my probation, my prayer to him is that my mind and heart may remain stayed on him, and that I may practically illustrate those words of our blessed Saviour, 'Not my will, but thine be done.' It is quite possible that there may still be a few years of probation for me; but it is more probable that I may not remain here to the close of the present; but whether I remain longer or shorter is of little consequence, compared with the preparation or the dress in which I may be found when called away. It has seemed to me that the habit of mind we cultivate here will be that which will abide with us hereafter; and that heaven is as truly begun here as that the affections which make us love our friends grow stronger by use, and improve by cultivation. We are here in our infancy; the feelings cherished at this period grow with our growth, and, in the progress of time, will fit us for the highest enjoyments of the most distant future. I say, then, what sources of happiness are open to us, not only for the present, but for all future time! These hasty remarks are elicited on occasion of the separation so soon to take place from your son. I know full well the anxieties of a parent on such an occasion.