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During her term of service, which lasted until I was kidnapped, about one week from this time, I frequently caught Mr. Packard and Miss Rumsey and Mrs. Sybil Dole, his sister, in most earnest conversation, which was always carried on in a whisper whenever I was within hearing distance, and my presence seemed always to evoke manifestations of guilt on their part. I think the theme of conversation at these clandestine interviews was, my abduction and how it should be secured.

My children now became almost my only companions and counselors. The three youngest slept with me, so that I had their company both night as well as day. I expressed to them my fears that I might yet be forced away from them, always assuring them that no power but force should separate me from them.

They always responded "they will have to break my arms to get them loose from their grasp upon you, Mother, if they try to steal our dear mamma from us!"

Fidelity to the truth requires me to state, however, that Mr. Packard did succeed in gaining a temporary influence over the mind of my son, Samuel, of thirteen years, so far as to induce him to go against me -- taking his own confession as proof -- for his conduct towards me, and mine towards him, remained unchanged. At this age, his impulses rather than his reason controlled his actions. He was a very impulsive, and still a very affectionate child, of a very nervous and excitable temperament. The heart of this dear child, at this age, was at times the chosen battlefield for severe contests between the extremes of good and evil influences. Thus was he sadly exposed to become victimized by the great psychological power of his father.

Three times during the last few weeks preceding my kidnapping were my slumbers disturbed, by this darling child coming in his night-clothes to my bedside, about midnight, and, while pressing his tearful cheek against my own, with his arms encircling my neck, amid his sobbing and tears, would whisper in the softest tones:

"Mother, won't you forgive me? I have been doing wrong -- I have been telling lies about you -- and I can't sleep till you forgive me."

"Why did you do so, my child?"

"Because father hired me to say so -- and he said it was not wrong -- but when I think of it alone, I know it is wrong -- and I can't sleep until you kiss me, and say you forgive me."

"Yes, darling, mother will forgive you, most cheerfully, for I see you are sorry, and are willing to promise me you won't do so any more, are you not?"

"Yes, mother, I will promise I won't do so any more."

"Now, darling, dry up your tears -- and quiet your little feelings -- and go to sleep, with mother's blessing."

With a light heart would he then imprint his good-night kiss upon my cheek, and with an elastic step would he grope his way back up stairs to his bed-chamber to sleep the calm, quiet sleep of the penitent child, now that his conscience was relieved of its heavy burden.

When he came the third time, I asked him why he had broken his promise again.

He replied, "father paid me more money to-day; and made me think it was not wrong to do as he told me to do."

"What did he tell you to do?"

"To tell lies about you, mother."

The mother is thankful that the truth will allow her to add, that, as the moral faculties of Samuel developed his individuality of character, the good influences secured an almost undisputed possession of the citadel of his fond heart, and he has long since become the noble champion of his mother's cause.

But the filial influence Mr. Packard most feared to cope with, was my second son, Isaac, then sixteen years old. My oldest son, Theophilus, was then at Mt. Pleasant, Iowa. Isaac communicated to Theophilus the dangers he feared impending over his mother. Theophilus responded, pledging himself that should his dear mother ever be put into an Insane Asylum, he should never rest until he had liberated her. Isaac agreed to this same pledge of untiring devotion to his dear mother's welfare.

During these ominous days of solicitude and painful forebodings, this tender hearted and devoted son would never leave for his work in Mr. Comstock's store, without first coming to my room, and, as he would imprint a most loving kiss upon my lips, he would whisper:

"Don't feel bad, mother! keep up good courage -- I shall do all I can for you."

And he did do all he could to stem the rising current, by rallying influences in my defence. Quite a number of volunteers gave him their pledge that his mother never should leave that depot for an Insane Asylum; but unfortunately, his father became acquainted with this fact, and to prevent any co-operation with his mother in the execution of any of his plans for my deliverance, he issued his mandate that Isaac should not speak to his mother for one week.

Not knowing that such an injunction had been laid upon him, I accosted him from my window on his return from his store, and as usual, inquired after his health. He had been my patient for some weeks past, having spit blood several times during this time, and of course I felt a deep solicitude for his health; and now when he answered me only by the pressure of his fore-finger upon his closed lips, and a significant shake of his head, I became alarmed, and anxiously inquired: