SS 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 - 
 
 QMnnals of a ‘Beautiful Life. 
 
 MEMORIAL 
 
 Sia Bisex 
 
 fowen, |. BuRE, - | 
 
 J re } 
 ae, 
 
 A HUSBAND'S TRIBUTE 
 
 MEMORY OF A FAULTLESS WIFE. 
 
 Precious in the sight of the Lurp is the 
 death of his saints.—/Ps, cxvi: 15. 
 
 CONCORD, N. H.: | ant 
 PUBLISHED BY EDWARD A. JENKS. 
 1879. 
 

 
ISABEL UAW REN OX, 
 
 Wife of Rev. 8S. Leroy Blake, 
 
 FELL ASLEEP AT CLEVELAND, O., JULY 30, 1879, 
 AGED 32 YEARS. 
 
 BREVa SS = Ate 
 
 Blessed ave they that do bis commandments, that they mav babe right 
 to the tree of life, und map enter in through the 
 gutes into the city. 
 
 
 

 

 
 TO THE DEAR MOTHER. 
 
 Since you gave so much of your sweet. self to 
 Isabel when you gave her to life, it seems as if this 
 little sketch ought in some way to be linked to 
 your name, which was so dear to her, and which 
 was on her lips when she was breathing out her 
 life to God. So, with inexpressible gratitude to 
 you for giving her to me, I dedicate it to you, on 
 this anniversary of our marriage eight years ago, 
 praying that the Father who has taken her may be 
 your lamp, your staff, and your comfort, and that 
 He may add yet many years to the measure of 
 your own precious life, before he calls you to join 
 her on that other shore, where the great company 
 are rapidly gathering, and where no shadows shall 
 fall across your pathway. 
 
 Affectionately, your son, 
 S. Leroy BLake. 
 
 Cleveland, O., Oct. 25, 1879. 
 

 

 
 
 
 ie 
 WHY THIS SKETCH APPEARS. 
 
 Any life which does its part well, is worth re- 
 cording. Stir and noise are not always the meas- 
 ure of effectiveness. Quietest things sometimes do 
 most. Itis not the crashing thunder-peal, filling the 
 air with its deafening roar, but the silent electric 
 current which slides along its track of flame from 
 cloud to earth, which does damage. You do not 
 hear the blow which strikes the icy fetters off the 
 brooks and fields, and lets them leap out into the 
 glad, new life of spring. A life inspired by princi- 
 ple, though no loud-mouthed trumpets proclaim its 
 worth, as surely bears fruit as the tree on which 
 you can see, but cannot hear, the bursting of the 
 buds into blossoms, and the growth of the blossoms 
 into apples. Sucha life of quiet but decisive power 
 is worth imitating. It shows what grace can do 
 for men. Its annals are an inspiration. It proves 
 that life cannot be measured by figures on a dial. 
 
 ‘* We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths ; 
 In feelings, not in figures on a dial. 
 We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives 
 Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.” 
 
SE rE er TT LT LL I ET 
 
 8 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 Because the life, whose annals we here offer, as 
 we believe did its part so well, was one of such 
 quiet but yet decisive and beneficent power, and 
 affords an example of such noble and unselftsh liv- 
 ing, we send forth this sketch, in the hope that her 
 memory, as did her life, may be the means under 
 God of winning some to that same joy in believing 
 which was the light of her living, and the glory of 
 her dying. 
 
 We also send forth this sketch on what we trust 
 will be its errand of blessing, as a testimony of 
 love, and to express our gratitude to God for letting 
 such a life be linked to ours for so many years. 
 Said one of the young ladies with whom she had 
 grown up, “I thank God that I knew her.” Much 
 more may they say so, of whose life she was a most 
 precious part. We have not thought to add any- 
 thing to the world’s overstocked market of bio- 
 graphical literature, but to trace the leading points 
 of her beautiful life for the hearts that loved her. 
 We have not therefore written for critical eyes, but 
 for eyes too dim with tears of sympathy and affec- 
 tion to see with the sharpness of criticism. This 
 has been prepared for hearts, not heads. 
 
186 
 
 HER BIRTH AND ANCESTRY. 
 
 About thirty years ago a plump, rosy-cheeked 
 little girl, of gentle and winning ways, might have 
 been seen playing about the ancestral home on 
 **Oak Hill,” in the beautiful town of Pepperell, 
 Mass. That little girl was the subject of this 
 sketch. She was born July 1, 1847, and at her 
 christening received the name of Isabella Mary. 
 
 On her mother’s side she was a descendant of 
 the Spaulding family, some branches of which 
 have been distinguished for their men and women 
 of note. The line of her father’s ancestry runs 
 very far back into the past. It appears in history 
 as early as A. D. 258, when Laurentius, or St. 
 Laurence, chief deacon of Sixtus, Bishop of Rome, 
 suffered martyrdom. ‘The name is supposed to be 
 derived from the Latin word Zaurus, and accord- 
 ing to the town records of Hingham, Mass., signi- 
 fies ‘“‘ flourishing like a bay-tree.” Men of this 
 name have held high positions in church and 
 state, both in England and America. Bishops, 
 clergymen, scholars, statesmen, and soldiers have 
 sprung from the family. 
 
10 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 The family in this country descended from John 
 Lawrence, who was born at Wisset, England, 
 about 1609, and came to New England 1630-1635, 
 and settled in Watertown, Mass. Many of his 
 descendants have been marked men in the history 
 of the country. Samuel Lawrence, the father of 
 Amos and Abbott Lawrence, was in his field, in 
 the town of Groton, Mass., when the news came of 
 the march of the British on Concord. He mounted 
 his horse, gave the alarm in adjoining towns, 
 joined his company at the meeting-house in Gro- 
 ton, and reached the scene of action in season to 
 give the advancing troops a hot reception. He 
 was wounded at the battle of Bunker Hill. His hat 
 and coat, pierced by the enemy’s balls, were kept 
 as relics for many years. ‘* At the time of his mar- 
 riage, while the ceremony was in progress, the toll- 
 ing of the meeting-house bell called out the minute- 
 men ; whereupon he parted from his bride as soon as 
 the rite was finished, and marched to Rhode Island, 
 but shortly returned on furlough for a few days; 
 after which she did not see him again until the 
 last day of the year.” He was promoted to the 
 rank of major; fought in many of the hardest bat- 
 tles of the Revolution; was elected to fill honora- 
 ble places of trust by his townsmen; was a deacon 
 of the church in Groton; and was foremost in 
 founding the academy at Groton, known as Law- 
 rence Academy. 
 

 
 Fler Birth and Ancestry. II 
 
 Thomas Lawrence, of another branch of the 
 family of John, was captain of a company from Pep- 
 perell and vicinity, which enlisted for the French 
 war, in 1758. He is represented as a man of gigan- 
 tic stature, herculean strength, bold and courageous. 
 He lost his life in battle near Lake George, New 
 York. He was great-grandfather of Isabel. 
 
 His son Thomas, her grandfather, was wounded 
 at the battle of Bunker Hill, and figured conspicu- 
 ously in the military history of those stirring times. 
 He was promoted to the rank of major. 
 
 His son Luther, her father, is described as a man 
 of great force of character, a quality which he gave 
 in large measure to his children. The fact that he 
 was often placed by his townsmen in that trium- 
 virate of the New England town known as ‘ The 
 selectmen,” and that he repeatedly represented 
 his town in the General Court, where he was con- 
 temporary with such men as Robert Rantoul, Hen- 
 ry Wilson, and Horace Mann, shows the esteem in 
 which he was held in Pepperell. He was very 
 fond of his children, upon whom he stamped so 
 strongly his own moral and intellectual likeness. 
 Hence, though he died in 1854, when Isabel was 
 but seven years old, she retained a vivid recollec- 
 tion of him, and loved his memory as only such a 
 child can. After she came to her womanhood, I 
 have seen the eyes glisten with tears, and the lips 
 quiver with emotion, as she spoke his name with a 
 
12 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 daughter’s deep affection. The family name has a 
 noble record, and she was herself a noble speci- 
 men of the line. 
 
 I. The line of descent from Joun LAwreENCcE is 
 as follows: NATHANIEL, son of JoHN, born Oct. 
 15, 1639, and lived at Groton. 
 
 II. Joun, son of NATHANIEL, born July 29, 1667, 
 and lived at Groton and Lexington. 
 
 III. Tuomas, son of Joun, born Dec. 23, 1691, 
 and lived at Groton. 
 
 IV. Capt. THomas, son of THomas, born Sept. 
 3, 1720, and lived at Groton and Pepperell. 
 
 V. Maj. Tuomas, son of Capt. THomas, born 
 Dec. 25, 17547, and lived in Pepperell. 
 
 VI. Luruer, son of Maj. THomas, was born at 
 Pepperell, Nov. 7, 1801, and lived at Pepperell, 
 where he died July 28, 1854. Isabel was of the 
 SEVENTH generation from John, the originator of 
 the family in America. 
 

 
 1 i 
 THE GIRL AT HOME. 
 
 As a girl, she displayed those qualities of charac- 
 ter which gave such ripe richness and winsomeness 
 to her womanhood. It was a common remark 
 among her friends, that Isabel would be a minis- 
 ter’s wife,—they little dreaming that the word 
 spoken in jest was a true prophecy. During this 
 early period of her life, Rev. Lyman Cutler was 
 pastor of the church in Pepperell, and he, together 
 with his estimable wife, seems to have made a pro- 
 found impression upon her mind; for she often 
 spoke of them, dwelt on the loveliness of Mrs. 
 Cutler, and told what a treat it was for her to go 
 to the minister’s with her father and mother. I 
 believe Mr. and Mrs. Cutler used to call her their 
 little girl. It was a matter of common remark that 
 she looked like Mrs. Cutler. Certainly in loveli- 
 ness of character she was like the minister’s wife 
 whom she never forgot. How much the influence 
 of this Christian woman had to do in shaping the 
 life and heart of the little girl who adored her, can 
 never be known. 
 
 As a child, I suppose that Isabel was like other 
 children. But I cannot learn that she was ever the 
 
14 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 fountain of any disturbances or contentions such 
 as are common to little folks, nor can I learn that 
 she was ever a disturbing element in the home. 
 On the contrary, both there and among her mates, 
 she was, as in all her subsequent life, a peace- 
 maker, and without a shadow of doubt received 
 the blessing promised to such,— they shall be 
 called the children of God.” I am sure no daugh- 
 ter could ever be more obedient and dutiful. 
 
 As a child she developed that force of character 
 which was a marked feature of the woman. She 
 never usurped the place, nor put herself forward, 
 but her mates looked upon her as a sort of leader, 
 and felt safe to follow Bell, as she was familiarly 
 called, wherever she led. For she did not make up 
 her mind hastily, but when it was made up, she 
 was likely to be right. Consequently the influence 
 she exerted over the girls of her own age was last- 
 ing, and we may believe was among the means 
 used by God to bring them all to the Savior. That 
 I am not alone in this opinion appears from a let- 
 ter written to her by a Miss Shattuck, who was a 
 teacher to whom Isabel was sincerely attached, in 
 which she urges her to become a Christian because 
 of the influence her act would have upon her mates. 
 Subsequent facts proved how correct Miss Shat- 
 tuck was. 
 
 Another evidence of her force of character was 
 to be seen in the quiet yet unflinching way in 
 

 
 The Girl at Home. pais 
 
 which she sought to do what she believed to be 
 right. She was not obstinate, for she would always 
 yield rather than dispute. But when she had made 
 up her mind for herself, her duty was plain, and 
 she could not be changed. I do not think it be- 
 traying any confidence she would have me keep to 
 say, and it gives me great pleasure to be able to 
 say it, that when any difference of opinion between 
 us occurred, which was not often, her view usually 
 prevailed in the end, for it was rarely wrong. 
 
 Her force of character was also shown in the 
 quiet but decided choice by which she became a 
 Christian. The step was taken under circum- 
 stances which showed her independent way of 
 thinking and acting. ‘There was no special relig- 
 ious interest, except in her heart. She stood alone 
 in the vestry of the church to ask the prayers of 
 God’s people. But she was not long alone, for she 
 carried with her all the girls of her set. From 
 that step of this girl of 14 dated a religious interest 
 which greatly blessed the church. Largely through 
 her influence the girls on ‘Oak Hill” formed a 
 prayer-meeting, of which she was in no small de- 
 gree the spiritual life and light. Thus, at the age 
 of from 12 to 15, she was doing, in her quiet way, 
 most efficient work for the Master. When she had 
 chosen Christ, she at once wrote to the teacher 
 whom she loved so well, and to whom she owed 
 so much. 
 
16 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 PEPPERELL, June 8, 1862. 
 
 DEAR MIss SHATTUCK: 
 
 * * ‘You cannot imagine how happy I was 
 when I saw that letter was from you, for I almost 
 knew its pages would be filled with that ove sub- 
 ject which I love to hear better than anything else. 
 * * Oh! Miss Shattuck, how many times I have 
 wished you would speak to me on the subject of 
 religion, but never did I feel like saying anything 
 first; so it was always put off. We would talk 
 about everything else but that one thing which is 
 of so much more importance than anything else we 
 could have said. But now I feel like talking with 
 any one on that subject. [Her subsequent life 
 made these words good.] I had often prayed to 
 my Heavenly Father that I might become a true 
 and sincere Christian, and now I feel that I have 
 given my heart to this Savior to be his forever, for 
 how could I deny him any longer! All he asks is, 
 “© Come,” “believe on me and thou shalt. have 
 everlasting life.” It is so easy, and yet it is so 
 hard. I know that I have-led a very sinful life. 
 _* * But I came and gave myself to Christ ‘* just 
 as J am,” and I trust that he has forgiven my sins ; 
 and oh! what a happy feeling itis! I love to go 
 by myself alone, and pray to my Heavenly Father, 
 and read his Holy Bible: I take so much pleasure 
 in it. 
 
 I remain yours truly, 
 BELL. 
 
 She was not yet 15 years old. But here are ex- 
 pressions of Christian character, such as we might 
 look for in one of larger experience. ‘They were 
 not the enthusiastic outgushings of a young life 
 

 
 The Girl at Home. 17 
 
 which soon spend themselves ; for to the end it was 
 her custom and delight to go by herself alone and 
 pray, and to the end the Word of God was her 
 great and constant joy. Religion was a beautiful 
 reality to this young girl. It lost none of its 
 charms to her, as she grew to that splendid 
 womanhood which her Christian character made 
 very winsome. 
 
 Of the prayer-meeting named above, she writes, 
 under date of Jan. 12, 1863: 
 
 DerarR Miss SHATTUCK: 
 ~ * * * tWast week Nellie, Fannie, Katie, 
 Lucena, and myself met down at Charlotte’s at a 
 prayer-meeting. It was very interesting indeed. 
 eee There is nothing [love to go to'so 
 much as these. I feel that my hope in Christ 
 grows stronger as each day I grow older. Oh! 
 how I wish that each one of my schoolmates would 
 come and love this Savior zow ! 
 Very affectionately yours, 
 BELL. 
 
 In the same letter she speaks of personal conver- 
 sation with several of her young friends, in which 
 she tried faithfully to point them to the Savior. 
 In a letter written the following April, she says,— 
 “IT am never so happy as when talking about 
 Christ.” At this early age her hope was anchoring 
 itself within the veil, and her faith never faltered 
 in its steady allegiance to God, till it was changed 
 into glorified vision. 
 
18 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 Her whole home-life was tinctured by this spirit 
 which made her so beautiful a Christian. In all 
 her thoughts and desires she was perfectly pure 
 and innocent. Life was a great pleasure to her; 
 she enjoyed it with keen relish, and with all her 
 heart entered into those sports which are the de- 
 
 light of young people of her age. She often took — 
 
 part in the exhibitions they used to have at the 
 ‘¢ Oak Hill” school-house, in which she always ac- 
 quitted herself, as I have learned from others, with 
 
 great merit. She was a fine reader, and had a. 
 
 rare faculty of personating different characters. 
 But whatever she did she never forgot that she 
 was a Christian. It is safe to say, that it is not 
 usual to find at so young an age.a character so ripe, 
 and in all respects so firmly established. 
 
 The testimony of one of the girls with whom her 
 childhood was spent, and who was one of her most 
 intimate friends, confirms what has been said. 
 The letter bears date of October 25, 18709. 
 
 ‘‘ Mrs. B. said this day was her wedding anni- 
 versary. The thought carried me back to the day 
 when she left us to go with you, back through her 
 girlhood to childhood, and her life came before 
 me in one sweet, beautiful whole; complete, it 
 seemed to me, as child, girl, woman. When 
 at school she was a favorite with all, and we 
 were only too happy to get a share of her society. 
 I used to wonder why she was so attractive, and 
 have since found an answer in that quick, generous 
 
 ey en 
 

 
 ~The Girl at Home. 19 
 
 sympathy, that forgetfulness of self and thought- 
 
 fulness of others, which in later years has been so 
 thoroughly characteristic of her. 
 
 “In all the years of close companionship as 
 schoolmates, no word of hers was ever a taunt, or 
 had a touch of unkindness. I think that record of 
 her school-life speaks volumes ; for children often- 
 times give pain by thoughtless, unkind words. As 
 she grew older, and we went to the little prayer- 
 meetings, which largely owed their support to her 
 faithful activity as a Christian girl, no voice was 
 sweeter than hers in prayer, or more ready to say 
 a word for the Savior she loved so well. 
 
 ** But no words of mine can express the feeling 
 of her worth and goodness. The grave has closed 
 over a dearly loved friend, and sometimes it seems 
 too sad to be true. Then whenI look back and 
 think of her life, and the blessed memories she 
 has left, can I be too thankful that I have known 
 her? I try to find comfort in the thought that she 
 was with us so long. ‘The Lord giveth, and the 
 Lord taketh away.’ ” 
 
 If the whole town were to voice their feelings, 
 no different testimony would be given. But was 
 she, as we have said, the same kind, affectionate, 
 gentle girl at home, winning the love of the whole 
 household? The home-life is the best test. He 
 who stood to her instead of her own father,—a 
 man of few words,—said, ‘‘ Bell was always a 
 good girl.” ‘The sister younger than she, wrote,— 
 “You asked me if she was always as lovable as 
 she has been since you have known her. She has 
 
20 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 always been so ever since I can remember. I 
 think she was about twelve years old when she 
 became interested in religion. At that time I was 
 only about six years old. But I remember that 
 when I was small I must have been a good deal 
 of trouble, and Bell was always so kind to me.” 
 The letter goes on to mention little acts of kindness, 
 which showed the goodness of her heart, which 
 need not be repeated. She was as a girl what she 
 afterwards was as a woman. 
 
| 
 | 
 | 
 i 
 
 
 
 IV. 
 
 AT SCHOOL. 
 
 At about this period in her life began her school- 
 days in Lawrence Academy, Groton, Mass. Her 
 course of study here was broken in upon by a very 
 severe fit of typhoid fever, which came near taking 
 her life, and did shatter her constitution, so that 
 ever after it she was very frail. This happened 
 when she was 16. She returned to school as soon 
 as her health permitted, and took high rank as a 
 scholar, standing at the head of most of her classes. 
 She was gifted with a singularly retentive memory, 
 and therefore she kept what she learned. [I re- 
 member especially an examination of her French 
 class, at which she acquitted herself with great 
 credit. 
 
 She carried to the school the same qualities of 
 character which had made her so marked at 
 home, and she was for a like reason a leader and 
 a favorite among the scholars of the academy. She 
 also took with her the same Christian character 
 which gave her an influence over her mates; and 
 therefore at Groton she was as earnest for the sal- 
 vation of her schoolmates as she had been at Pep- 
 
 * 
 
22 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 perell. The first time I ever saw her was in a 
 prayer-meeting which many of the students at- 
 tended, and her very marked demeanor attracted 
 my notice. Evidently, I thought, she is a devoutly 
 Christian girl, who must exert a powerful influence 
 over her fellow-pupils. My conjecture was correct. 
 Here is the testimony of one who was her room- 
 mate and most intimate friend at school : 
 
 Troy, N. H.; Aug.15, ¢o70. 
 Rev. 5. L. BLAKE: 
 DEAR SIR: 
 
 * %* * JT first heard of your loss through 
 the Congregationalzst, and I was truly grieved at 
 hearing the sad news of dear Mrs. Blake’s death, 
 and do most heartily sympathize with you all. In 
 her death I too have lost a dear friend. Her name 
 was ever dear to me, and full of pleasant remem- 
 brances. As a schoolmate and a room-mate she 
 became very dear to me. In school she was great- 
 ly beloved by teachers and pupils, for it was there 
 she exhibited those traits of character which made 
 her life so beautiful. Always cheerful and happy, 
 so unselfish in everything, we could but feel she 
 was the joy of the school. 
 
 She always manifested an earnest desire for the 
 spiritual welfare of the students, attending regu- 
 larly the religious meetings of the academy, and 
 often was her voice heard in pr oie: for the conver- 
 sion er the’ scholars, +" 74am 
 
 Truly yours, 
 Mrs. A. B. Dorrt. 
 
ee ee 
 
 
 
 
 
 At School. 28 
 
 Other testimony might be added to show that 
 she was as loyal to Christ at the academy as at 
 home. And I cannot doubt that it was partly due 
 to her quiet influence that the school was visited 
 with a remarkable revival in the spring of 1864, 
 when very many of the pupils became Christians, 
 some of whom afterwards became preachers of the 
 
 gospel. 
 
 Her health required that she should leave the 
 
 school in the spring of 1865. She would have 
 
 graduated the following summer with high honors. 
 
 & 
 
Nex 
 THE WIFE. 
 
 She was rapidly ripening into that womanhood 
 in which her life shone with richest lustre. The 
 next few years do not require to be recorded, for 
 the record would be but a repetition of what has 
 been said. It is enough to say, that during these 
 years before she left it as a wife, she was the light 
 of the home in which she was a dutiful daughter, 
 and a loving, self-denying sister. During this period 
 her brother Luther died, to whom she was very 
 strongly attached, as she was to all her friends. 
 This is what she wrote when the sad news came: 
 ‘It is a house of mourning, but we must be re- 
 signed to God’s will, trusting Him. Oh! what a 
 mercy to have a Savior to’ go)(0179" 5 santa 
 so sad for us: but we know there is a higher pow- 
 er who does all things, and to Him we submit.” 
 
 We pass now to that period of her life when her 
 splendid womanhood displayed its rare qualities 
 to best advantage. On Wednesday, Oct. 25th, 
 1871, she gave herself to me to stand by my side 
 in my chosen work of the gospel ministry, and the 
 prophetic word, spoken in jest of the girl, was 
 
 a i 
 

 
 
 
 The Wife. 25 
 
 fulfilled. If it were proper to push aside the veil 
 and publish the correspondence which prefaced 
 this day, it would show a wealth and a depth of 
 affection which should satisfy the hungriest heart. 
 But this was only a pledge of what the wife was 
 ready to bestow upon the husband. 
 
 1.—FEELINGS WITH WHICH SHE BECAME A WIFE. 
 
 She did not enter into this relation unthinkingly, 
 but with a full consciousness of its duties, and with 
 dependence upon God for strength to meet them. 
 Let her own words speak. In a letter written the 
 week before her marriage she says,—‘‘ Have you 
 thought that a week from to-day (Oct. 21, 1871) 
 we shall be at your home in Conn., and two weeks 
 from to-day, with God’s blessing, we shall be at 
 our new home in Concord? There we begin our 
 new life, and we cannot be too watchful of our- 
 selves. I earnestly pray that I shall be a loving, 
 faithful wife to you, and I do pray that. God will 
 bless us to work faithfully for him, and do all we 
 can to make ourselves happy, and others happy 
 around us. I feel so wholly unfitted for this posi- 
 tion of life; but God is able to give me strength, 
 and my trust isin Him. I hope we shall be faith- 
 ful and true Christians.” With such thoughts and 
 desires, the charming Miss became the “ loving, 
 faithful wife,” doing all she could to make “‘ others 
 
26 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 happy around us,” and finding her own happiness 
 in that. How well she carried out her desires to 
 be a “ loving, faithful wife,” words are too unutter- 
 ably poor to tell. The sweetness of her life will 
 be a perpetual fragrance. 
 
 2.—How SHE WAS RECEIVED AT CONCORD. 
 
 She was received with open arms, when we 
 came to ‘our new home in Concord” to * begin 
 our new life,” which were reluctantly torn apart 
 to let her go to Cleveland, and which, with a great 
 sob of grief, were reached out after her in vain, 
 when God called her home. I do not think I ever 
 knew one who won such universal love and respect 
 as she did, from young and old, men and women, 
 in the church where she belonged, and out of it. 
 The children loved her. Every one in Concord 
 who knew her loved her, and mourned when she 
 went away. Ladies of age and experience deferred 
 to her, and sought her advice. Higher compliment 
 could not have been paid her. But I know that 
 the compliment came from those whose regard for 
 her could not express itself too intensely. 
 
 She naturally felt that the lines had fallen to her 
 in very pleasant places, when she went to Concord, 
 and that her lot as a minister’s wife was not hard. 
 I remember she once read an article in the Comgre- 
 gationalzst, setting forth the abuses to which min- 
 

 
 
 
 The Wafe. 27 
 
 isters’ wives are subjected. After reading it, she 
 said, ‘‘ My experience is exactly opposite to that.” 
 She sat down and sketched two cases. One was 
 of some person whom she knew; the other rep- 
 resented her own. ‘The contrast expresses exactly 
 her thought. This is it: 
 
 ** We have in mind a minister’s wife, whose his- 
 tory may not come amiss here, and perhaps help 
 to shed light on this question. A beautiful young 
 girl from one of our adjoining towns, whose life 
 had been one of quiet, and who had been unused 
 to hardships, found the man of her choice to bea 
 minister. She pledged her life to him. In due 
 time the two were made happy in marriage, and 
 entered upon their new life with bright hopes for 
 the future in store for them. Truly, it seemed as if 
 the lines had fallen to them in pleasant places, 
 when they were settled among their (said to be) 
 kind and considerate people. This devoted wife 
 had determined to do all she could to increase her 
 husband’s usefulness, and accordingly entered upon 
 her new labors with zeal and earnestness. 
 
 *‘ As soon as politeness would allow, the ordeal 
 she was to pass through began. One by one the 
 people came to call upon the minister’s new wife. 
 She was expected to become personally interested 
 
 in each one, to participate alike in their joys and 
 
 sorrows, and sympathize as best she could. The 
 first weeks being spent in receiving calls, she must 
 now begin to return: and not only to return calls, 
 she must go with her husband to see the sick, the 
 poor, the sorrowing. She must attend the regular 
 prayer-meeting of the church, besides having a 
 
28 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 weekly prayer-meeting at her own house. She 
 must make herself agreeable to every one with 
 whom she comes in contact, and must always be 
 tidy and presentable; which is no difficult matter, 
 considering the average minister’s salary. Can 
 you wonder that she is utterly astonished to find 
 that she has wedded a parish instead of her hus- 
 band? Can we be surprised that her husband be- 
 comes a dyspeptic? For where has her ome been 
 all this time? Something must be neglected. If 
 she neglects the parish, she constantly hears some 
 one say,—‘‘ You have not called on us in so long a 
 time.” So the neglect must fall on the home-life, 
 unless she turns about and becomes the wife of her 
 husband instead of the wife of the parish. 
 
 ‘* Let us turn from this to one of the more for- 
 tunate wives, who was permitted to enjoy the same 
 rights and privileges with any other lady in the 
 society. She was not expected to attend a meet- 
 ing every night in the week, or to make calls every 
 afternoon, but simply had her freedom to do as she 
 pleased. It was her fortune to have a pleasant 
 home, and her delight to make it attractive, not 
 only to her husband, but also to the people. As 
 one is happy, so in proportion is one useful. Was 
 it wonderful, then, that the young people all flocked 
 about their minister? ‘The very atmosphere of his 
 home-life had been such as to make him one with 
 them. A minister, to win souls, must win hearts. 
 His wife had been able to be his helpmate, because 
 she had been left to make his home for him.” 
 
 This last picture she painted in accord with her 
 own experience. She was always happy, because 
 

 
 The Wife. 29 
 
 always free, in the work of the gospel which fell to 
 her todo. Thanks to the people who loved her! 
 
 3.—HER LOVING, UNSELFISH HEART. 
 
 If I might lift the covering which hides the 
 sacred privacy of conjugal affection, and publish 
 the letters which she expected no eye but that 
 of her husband to see, they would show plainly 
 enough what there was in her which made her an 
 incomparable wife. But that covering must not be 
 disturbed, nor that sacred privacy be profaned. 
 Enough was visible in her life to all who knew her 
 to give a hint of what she was as a companion. 
 The reality was too blessed for language to ex- 
 press it. 
 
 Her quiet, gentle ways fitted her to move in her 
 station in life without jostling against any, or 
 wounding even the most sensitive nature. She 
 was remarkably kind in her way of receiving all 
 who came into her home, and she had a wonder- 
 fully happy faculty of making people feel welcome. 
 Every one who had been in her society once, longed 
 to enjoy it again. She was wise and judicious, and 
 never said anything to be repented of, or which 
 would stir up strife and ill-feelings. I never learned 
 that a lisp of unfavorable criticism was ever uttered 
 against her, during the eight years in which she 
 occupied the somewhat delicate place of a pastor’s 
 
30 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 wife; neither did I ever learn that a single word 
 from her lips was ever the occasion of any offence. 
 
 When Mrs. Madison presided over the presiden- 
 tial mansion at Washington, Henry Clay said to 
 her, with characteristic gallantry, ‘ Everybody 
 loves Mrs. Madison.” With a frankness pecul- 
 iarly her own, she replied, ‘* That is because Mrs. 
 Madison loves everybody.” Isabel loved every- 
 body, and everybody loved her. She brightened 
 every life she touched, and every one who came 
 into her presence felt that she was full of profound- 
 est sympathy, of which each had a full share. For 
 eight years I never heard her say an ill word of 
 
 any one; but always, with tears in her voice and 
 
 tears in her eyes, she had a word of apology when 
 most would have had only words of blame. In an 
 eminent degree, as a woman as well as a girl, she 
 was a peacemaker. Instead of planning to stir up 
 strife, she always planned to smooth the rough 
 edges. She could endure almost anything better 
 than a dispute. 
 
 She was remarkably unselfish and self-forgetful. 
 I think she was one of those rare characters who 
 are more ready to do for and think of others, than 
 others are to do for and think of them, I do not 
 think I ever saw a person who had less of self. 
 She did not think of herself as much as her frail 
 strength required. In this she was an exception 
 to the rule. She always loved to make what calls 
 
 I 
 

 
 The Wife. 31 
 
 she could on the people of the parish. But few 
 could know how it taxed her. For she was so full 
 of sympathy, which shone in her face and thrilled 
 in her touch, that she seemed to invite confidence. 
 At any rate, people could not resist telling her all 
 their troubles, for her heart and ear were always 
 open. In her home and everywhere she had the 
 same sweet, unselfish spirit, which was thoughtful 
 of the comfort and welfare of others. More could 
 not be said, but it is just and true praise of her. 
 The sunshine and sweetness of her soul made 
 her face radiant and her life magnetic. Very few 
 could resist being drawn to her winning face. Her 
 soul was in it, and there was the light of a pure and 
 lovely spirit in her expressive eyes. Clouds could 
 not long sail in any sky where she shed her light. 
 She loved her home passionately. She was, as 
 we say, ahome body. She was satisfied to be at 
 home. No place was to her like her home. It 
 was here that her queenliness of character appeared 
 preéminently. When, after a winter of boarding, 
 we were once more to be under our own roof, and 
 to have our own family altar, her cup of delight was 
 full. Solomon’s description of a virtuous woman 
 was true of her: ‘‘ The heart of her husband doth 
 safely trust in her.” Her affectionate nature was 
 deep. The world outside saw little demonstration 
 on her part. But in the safe shelter of her home 
 her love flowed unrestrained, with a depth anda 
 
32 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 strength fo satisfy the most exacting heart. Noth- 
 ing could wean her from the home of her child- 
 hood while the mother she adored was in it. Her 
 mother, her brothers and sisters, her home, and her 
 husband, were her heart’s idols. 
 
 4.—As A CRITIC AND LOVER OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Her fine taste in the art of putting things made 
 her invaluable to me as a critic. She seemed to 
 know as by instinct what way of stating the truth 
 would win attention. She had, as extracts show, 
 a happy faculty of saying things in a very simple 
 and natural way, and without needless words. It 
 would be impossible to estimate the true worth of 
 her wise and kindly suggestions in this regard. So 
 sensible and practical were they, that they were 
 like a short treatise on homiletics. She proved 
 what a help a wise, faithful, loving wife can be to 
 her husband in his literary work. No one else can 
 criticize so faithfully and so well. If my style 
 has any points which make it pleasing to the pop- 
 ular ear, she, in no small degree, deserves the 
 credit of it. Ifit has no such points, it is because 
 I have failed to profit by her suggestions. I rarely 
 ever preached a sermon or gave an address which 
 I did not first submit to her for criticism. 
 
 Her ideas of the office and sacredness of the 
 gospel ministry were so high, that she was a 
 
 es ws ae 
 

 
 The Wofe. 33 
 
 constant inspiration and a_ powerful incentive. 
 With her sitting before me, to listen in her quiet 
 but earnest and appreciative way, I felt sustained, 
 as by a spirit in full accord with my message, to 
 preach the gospel. It was always so from the first 
 time I preached to her as her pastor in Pepperell, 
 till the last time I preached to her as her husband, 
 in Cleveland, on the evening of July 6, 1879. What 
 I have felt others have, for she never heard a ser- 
 mon without thanking the preacher for it, if the 
 opportunity were offered. She knew the value of 
 a kind word to one who is called to preach the gos- 
 pel. The pastor in Pepperell wrote of her, after 
 her death,—‘‘ In my days of trial which came to 
 me in the early days of my pastorate, she always 
 spoke cheering words to encourage me, and was 
 pleased to speak kindly of my sermons.” “To a 
 few words spoken by her, at various times, I feel 
 that Lowe much.” Many times has she said,—‘ I 
 never hear a sermon which presents Christ, from 
 which I do not get some good, however much I 
 may find in it which I could criticise, if I were so 
 disposed.” Her idea of listening to preaching was, 
 to get good; and the sermon must be very poor in 
 which she could find nothing. If she had a kindly 
 word to say, she always said it with such sweet 
 earnestness in looks and voice, that one did not feel 
 complimented, but encouraged. With such a 
 listener, and that listener one’s wife, one could not 
 
oes Annals of a Beautiful Lefe. 
 
 well help being inspired with the true spirit of the 
 gospel ministry. She has done more than words 
 can tell to put this mind in me which was jn Paul: 
 ‘‘ For I determined not to know anything among 
 you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified.” ‘ For 
 we preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the 
 Lord.” Perhaps the reader will be able to under- 
 stand from this, how much I miss her in this part 
 of my work. I have not yet learned to go into the 
 pulpit without a trembling sense of weakness, nor 
 to come from it without an anxious fear that the 
 right thing has not been said in the right way to 
 point men to the cross. A word from her, on the 
 way home from church, if she could honestly speak 
 it, would quiet my fears. If she could not, she 
 would frankly say so, and why, and, in whatever 
 criticisms she might have to offer, make herself as 
 great a help to me as if she had nothing but praise 
 to give. 
 
 She has made the work of the ministry seem 
 more holy to me, because her gentle hands and life 
 have touched it with me. In times of misgiving 
 about my fitness for so holy a calling, she has given 
 me courage by the kind and inspiring things she 
 said, which I may not repeat. ‘They are stored up 
 in memory, to be kept for those times of sinking of 
 heart which I know must come, when she can speak 
 to me no longer, except in the treasured words which 
 have fallen so sweetly from her lips, and which 
 
 jecimianntisace ripe tS 
 
 
 
 2 
 Peete 22 ees 
 
 Se Fae 
 
 ihe 
 
 Kg S27 ae 
 fe 
 
 = 2 
 

 
 . 
 
 The Wefe. 35 
 
 can never be forgotten. I am painfully sensible 
 that the work I ‘do is very far short of any worthy 
 excellence, but it is infinitely better than it would 
 have been if she had not for eight years been so 
 linked to all my life, as its chief moulding force. I 
 cannot give her too great praise as a helpmate in 
 the work of the gospel. 
 
 Her fine sensibilities and keen sense of the beau- 
 tiful made her a poet by nature. Her life was an 
 exquisite poem. She was a great lover of some of 
 Mrs. Browning’s poems. One of her special fav- 
 orites was “‘Isobel’s Child.” Tennyson was also 
 a delight to her, and often would she ask me to lis- 
 ten, as she would read some gem from his works, 
 with rare force of expression and a quick apprecia- 
 tion of its sentiment. She also took great pleasure 
 in reading the lives and poems of Phebe and Alice 
 Cary. Very few entered more fully than she into 
 the true spirit of poetry. It was in her soul. Here 
 is an exquisite little fragment which she wrote, 
 which testifies to this fact. As one said, it is just 
 like her. If it is not-classic, it has the soul of 
 poetry init. She thought it out one winter’s eve- 
 ning in Concord, as she sat by the window, while 
 one of the first snows was noiselessly falling. 
 
36 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 QUESTIONS TO THE SNOW-FLAKES. 
 
 Dear little snow-flakes, falling so fast, 
 
 Where do they keep you?—in wonder we ask: 
 Up in the heavens, above the blue sky? 
 Where have you been in the summer gone by? 
 
 Who lives where you live, and what are their names? 
 Where did you wash, to remove all your stains? 
 Who made you, like jewels, to hang on the trees, 
 And to float like white feathers away on the breeze? 
 
 Dear little snow-flakes, falling so fast, 
 
 Like the stars of the evening when daylight is past, 
 Draping the earth in garments so white, 
 
 Filling the world with their beautiful light : 
 
 As I watch from my window and see you fall down, 
 With beautiful ermine covering the ground, — 
 
 Each little snow-flake a gem all alone,— 
 
 Who flung you down from your beautiful home ? 
 
 I recall so vividly the evening when she wrote 
 these lines! She caught the spirit of the scene, 
 and simply translated it into beautiful expression. 
 If you want to know what sort of an evening it 
 was, and what sort of a feeling filled the soul, read 
 these,verses. To her, the evening and the falling 
 snow were a poem. All she did was to write out 
 and interpret the thoughts she read on the spotless 
 page which nature opened to hereye. As I un- 
 derstand it, that is true poetry. 
 
 €; 
 
 
 
 SA ye 
 

 
 The Wofe. 37, 
 
 5.—TRIP TO EUROPE ILLUSTRATING HER LOVE OF 
 NATURE. 
 
 This love of the beautiful, which made her a 
 natural poet, also made her an ardent lover of na- 
 ture. She always appreciated and had an excla- 
 mation of delight for every sweet surprise of 
 scenery. She loved the country, with its green 
 grass, its wild-flowers, its thick tangled woods with 
 their deep cooling shades, its carolling birds. The 
 last time she was in Pepperell was in May before 
 she died. The beautiful trailing arbutus was in its 
 glory. She was achild again, and lived over the 
 old days, and revelled to her fill in their delights, 
 and came home with a memory of those spring 
 mornings in the woods which never faded. 
 
 In 1876 we travelled three months in Europe. 
 Extracts from her diary tell better than I can the 
 impressions fixed upon her mind: ‘We sailed 
 one ework july 12, 1876. * *..* *. If 
 one wishes to realize the full meaning of that 
 verse, ‘ Who hath measured the waters in the hol- 
 low of his hands,’ he will do so, I know, by taking 
 one voyage across the ocean. It is: a peculiar 
 sensation to feel that one is moving along on the 
 face of the great deep, in a little iron bark as it 
 were, which seems but a speck when looking on 
 all sides of you and seeing nothing but a vast 
 world of water. I think I felt, more than ever 
 
 4. 
 
38 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 before, my utter dependence upon my Heavenly 
 Father, and felt the support of His loving arms 
 about us as He so carefully shielded us from harm 
 and danger. I hope I have learned lessons from 
 this life on the ocean which I shall never forget.” 
 Speaking of her first view of Ireland, she says,— 
 ‘‘ The first thing that attracted my attention was 
 the fields of green divided into squares by hedges. 
 I think there were as many shades of green as 
 there were squares—on account of the scarcity of 
 rain, I suppose. And yet, to me, the different 
 shades added very much to the picturesqueness of 
 the scene. * * * J must not forget to mention 
 the first ‘ivy green’ I saw, which was growing on 
 arches in such a way as to remind me of pictures 
 I had seen of cathedral ruins, where the ivy had 
 climbed over them till they were literally covered 
 with green.” After getting ashore, passing through 
 the ordeal of the custom-house, and dispatching 
 a lunch, we proceeded from Queenstown to Cork. 
 ‘© We sailed up the river Lee,” her diary continues, 
 ‘‘and a more romantic little stream one could not 
 imagine. I did not wonder that so many elegant 
 residences nestled in among the beautiful forests of 
 green trees and climbing vines.” Of the ride to 
 Blarney castle she writes,—* This was a charming 
 drive of two hours, over hills and through valleys, 
 and along beautiful lanes of arching trees and of 
 evergreens. We reached the entrance of the cas- 
 
 
 

 
 The Wife. 39 
 
 tle at ten o’clock, * * * and after wending our 
 way along a dusty lane, we stepped upon the door- 
 stone of the old ruin. An old lady stood there, 
 evidently expecting her mite for showing us about. 
 We ascended a long staircase, winding, massive, 
 and grand in its structure, and of solid stone. Up 
 and up we climbed, until I began to despair of 
 reaching the summit, occasionally stopping to take 
 a look out of the long narrow windows used as 
 port-holes in olden times for the archers to shoot 
 from in case of an invasion. I never shall forget 
 the feeling I had when I stood upon the top of that 
 rocky mass. Fora moment I felt as if what had 
 not given way was going to, and would carry us 
 in the fall. We did not kiss the Blarney stone, for 
 it was below our reach, but we gathered some ivy 
 leaves and stones for mementos.” 
 
 We went from Cork to Killarney. She says,— 
 “We reached Killarney station at about 6 o’clock, 
 and were hustled into a cab, where we quietly re- 
 mained till all the trunks were packed over our 
 heads, and I thought if the top should fall through 
 we should all be crushed. Fortunately no acci- 
 dent occurred, and in half an hour’s time we drove 
 up.to the Royal Victoria hotel.” She could 
 hardly find words to express her delight, as she 
 stood and gazed on the beautiful scenery. She 
 says,—“ As I sit looking from my window upon 
 these rugged hills and beautiful lakes, I can think 
 
40 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 of nothing I have seen that will compare with 
 their beauty.” She always said that the most de- 
 lightful spot she saw in Europe was the lakes of 
 Killarney, because they were her first introduction 
 to the old world, and therefore made most vivid 
 impressions upon her. Just the expression she 
 used to tell her thought was,—‘* I can only say of 
 this lovely little place, ‘sweet exile from Para- 
 dise.' 7 | | 
 
 I might quote other extracts, in which she 
 speaks of the ride through the gap of Dunloe, and 
 the tour of the lakes; our visit to the Duke of 
 Westminster’s palace at Chester; to the English 
 lakes ; to London and Paris; to Switzerland ;—but 
 these serve to illustrate her appreciative love and 
 enjoyment of nature. She had her own charac- 
 teristic way of taking in scenes and photograph- 
 ing them upon her mind. I remember when 
 crossing the Briinig Pass, one of the very finest 
 among the Alps, that she sat back in the carriage 
 quietly, saying little, and with her eyes closed much 
 of the time. I thought she was losing the thrilling 
 views, and spoke to her about it. She assured 
 me she was getting it all; and sure enough, for she 
 would often give such vivid descriptions of that 
 ride across that pass, as almost to make the listener 
 believe he could see the very spot. She said very 
 little ; was never a person of many words; did not 
 go into ecstacies ;—but she was sure to get vivid and 
 
 
 

 
 The Wife. AI 
 
 accurate impressions, have quite as keen pleasure 
 as those more demonstrative, and always said some- 
 thing worth being said when she spoke about what 
 she had seen. I think one secret of her love of na- 
 ture was, she saw in it the work of her Heavenly 
 Father’s loving hand. 
 
 6.—THE CHANGE FROM CONCORD TO CLEVELAND. 
 
 She had, in certain respects, a very intense na- 
 ture. Hence, ties of friendship bound her very 
 strongly. They were never broken. If new ones 
 were formed, the old ones remained strong. Hence, 
 when she came to leave Concord for Cleveland, 
 leave the friends whom she had tried and proved 
 for six years, for she knew not what, the strain 
 upon her was tremendous. The first weeks in the 
 new parish were weeks of unutterable homesick- 
 ness. But this gave place to a deep, unselfish love 
 for the work in Cleveland, to which she became 
 convinced God had called us. She lived to feel 
 that the change, though hard, was wise. Her own 
 words can tell it best. ‘The following was written 
 to a lady in Concord: 
 
 CLEVELAND, Dec. 23, 1878. 
 My Dear Mrs. W. ; 
 
 * * * Itis more than a year since we left 
 our home in Concord, and although it has passed 
 quickly, much of it seems like a dream. I am 
 quite willing the first of our stay should seem like 
 
 
 
42 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 one, for they were days of homesickness. I did 
 not enjoy leaving off the old and putting on the 
 new. But things have changed, and I am happy 
 again in our pleasant relations. We are very fond 
 of the people here: they certainly deserve to be 
 loved, for their kindness has been unstinted. Not- 
 withstanding, our intense love for our former home 
 and friends can never stow daint.) 7 7 
 I would tell you a little about our church, only I 
 could not do it justice in a letter. We are having 
 a very interesting religious interest. Over seventy- 
 five asked the prayers of God’s people two weeks 
 ago, and more have since. Nearly one hundred 
 have united with the church since a year ago. 
 They are a devoted, working people. God is evi- 
 dently blessing them for the earnest efforts they 
 put forth. Such a work cannot be done by a few, 
 but all must be interested. ‘To-night we have our 
 social. ‘The ladies are making a great preparation 
 for the supper. We are as happy here as we could 
 ask to be, and the work is a very encouraging 
 aC AGEL aS 
 Your loving friend, 
 IsaBEL L. BLAKE. 
 
 Nothing could shake her loyalty to the people 
 who welcomed her so warmly when she came 
 among them a young wife, and who made her life 
 among them so spotlessly happy. Nor could any- 
 thing shake her loyalty to duty; and so her love 
 was getting firmly rooted in Cleveland. For she 
 
 believed the Lord had a work for us to do here, 
 
 and that was sufficient for her. 
 
 
 
 P lage ace SA emis aac taal 
 
 leer 
 
 a ia ee AE vi a lear ea 
 
 otk: 
 sty 
 
 Sa pare 
 
 oe 
 aie 
 
 $x. 
 
 Tel i a’ isaac 
 

 
 The Wefe. 43 
 
 7.—LOVE FOR CHRIST THE CROWN-JEWEL OF HER LIFE. 
 
 But the love which towered above every other, 
 and which nothing could shake, was her love for 
 her blessed Savior. From the time she gave her 
 heart to the Master at the age of 14, till she died 
 at the age of 32,—eighteen years,—her love never 
 grew cold, nor did her faith waver. In the dread- 
 ful sickness of the last weeks, and in the very last 
 hours when she knew she could not get well, her 
 faith and love stood firm upon the Rock. 
 
 Her Christian character was one of the notice- 
 able things about her that made her so winsome to 
 every one. Letters already quoted put her Chris- 
 tian thought in her own words. In 1869 she went 
 to Brooklyn, N. Y., to spend the winter. During 
 her stay she was quite ill. On recovering, she 
 writes to one of the young ladies in Pepperell,—* I 
 am quite like myself again, and can you wonder I 
 am delighted? I have had everything done for 
 me, and I suppose that is one reason I have got 
 better. But with whatever care we may have, our 
 sickness is in the hand of a higher power. I can 
 only say that I have been kindly and wonderfully 
 dealt by.” When we chanced to be separated 
 from each other for a short time, which was not 
 often, her letters were a great comfort, both be- 
 cause of the expressions of her love with which 
 they were always so rich, and because of her sweet 
 
44. Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 confidence and faith in God. A few quotations 
 will illustrate the beautiful Christian spirit which 
 gave fragrance to all she said, or did, or thought. 
 Writing from Chicago, she says, speaking of our 
 people,—“ God has certainly been very good to us, 
 and given us many blessings,—yes, blessings without 
 number. I am thankful, and hope that we both 
 shall be willing to lead unselfish lives for Him.” 
 At another time, speaking of kind words from one | 
 of our most esteemed Concord friends, she wrote,— | 
 ‘* Tow much God gives us. I hope we shall be 
 faithful in return.” At still another time she 
 wrote,—‘‘ I want to be much to you, and help you 
 in your work, so that the whole end and aim of 
 our life may be for the glory of God.” Such ex- 
 pressions as these, which enriched almost every 
 letter she ever wrote me as a wife, show how en- 
 tirely her heart was in the work God had assigned 
 to our lives. I think also that they show, very 
 conclusively, that the prayer for divine help with 
 
 
 
 a 
 # 
 od 
 y Fe 
 4 
 ee 
 in) 
 
 which she came to bless and give joy to my life by 
 
 her sweet companionship, was fully and graciously 
 
 answered. ‘They illustrate, too, how ready she 
 
 was to see the hand of God in every blessing, and _ 
 
 to recognize His claim to her life, and love, and ; 
 
 strength. ; y 
 While her whole thought was to be usefuland —_ 
 
 helpful, I do not think it ever occurred to her that 
 she was so useful and helpful. She had too little 
 

 
 The Wefe. 45 
 
 self-consciousness for that. She knew that people 
 esteemed her; but she never seemed to attribute 
 this esteem to any virtue which others saw in her. 
 She simply aimed to do her duty, and took delight 
 in doing it. Dr. Cuyler said of Washington Irv- 
 ing,—“ Fame never turned his head.” She was 
 not spoiled by the love and admiration with which 
 people regarded her. The sweet purities of her 
 life were never soiled by any such pride. What- 
 ever she had to be thankful for she gratefully re- 
 ceived as a gift from God, which she never attrib- 
 uted to any worthiness in herself, but to His con- 
 descending love. Itis safe to love such a soul. It 
 was safe to love her, for I know that she never for 
 one moment was betrayed into pride. She was 
 still the same quiet, simple, winsome woman, 
 thinking kindly and well of everybody, never 
 wounding a single soul by sharp words or rude- 
 ness, and always loving to hide away from the 
 public eye in her own home. 
 
 I cannot tell the help she has beento me. I 
 never did anything without first asking her advice. 
 Her rare good judgment, her sweet counsel, her 
 prayers of undoubting faith, her pure and spotless 
 life, her daily walk with God, the Christian joy 
 and peace which filled her soul, the deep and 
 prayerful interest which she took in the salvation 
 of sinners,—all such qualities made her a tower of 
 strength, and a Christian counsellor of rare wis- 
 
46 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 dom. The New York Zvangelist, speaking of 
 the value of a true wife to a minister, says,—‘** How 
 beyond all price to the minister, often burdened 
 with perplexing cares, is the companionship of 
 one who is his best counsellor and friend,—one 
 who may suggest with freedom, and yet never 
 wound, for her suggestions are those of the truest 
 and tenderest affection. How soft is the radiance 
 of this gentle presence, which lights up not merely 
 the home, but life itself; how it cheers one in 
 hours of despondency, and makes him strong 
 again to go forth to the world, to take up once 
 more the heavy task, and bear anew life’s burdens 
 and cares! Such a wife is indeed man’s best 
 friend this side heaven. Who that has such a 
 friend—so near, so dear, so tender, and so true— 
 will not daily fall on his knees, and bless the Being 
 from whom he has received God’s best gift to 
 man?’ Although this was called forth by praise 
 of another pastor’s wife, who well deserved it, 
 they are none the less true of her who was the 
 ‘good angel” of my home and of my life. A wife 
 could not be more to a husband, nor fill a larger 
 place in his usefulness, nor do more to add to it, 
 than she. God only can know what He has been 
 pleased to take away from me. He only can know 
 what a blessing He gave me in her. Whatever 
 His reasons for calling her home, He did not do so 
 because I failed to appreciate her. She has been 
 
 
 

 
 The Wefe. 47 
 
 of priceless worth to me. She has made my life 
 over, and I bow gratefully to own her sweet power. 
 There is a large place empty which she filled. I 
 try to wait patiently till that day shall dawn which 
 no shadow shall cloud, and whose joy no death, 
 nor pain, nor falling tears shall mar. 
 
 8.—SIMPLICITY A CHARM OF HER RELIGIOUS LIFE. 
 
 Her wants were surprisingly few, as compared 
 with most people’s. All her tastes, as well as her 
 whole manner of life, were exceedingly chaste and 
 simple. She was so socially. In her home she 
 was so. Those who saw her one day, saw her 
 every day. The very atmosphere which surround- 
 ed her was that of beautiful simplicity. Her man- 
 ner of dress was like herself. A characteristic 
 remark dropped in a letter written from Chicago, 
 without a thought that other eyes than mine would 
 ever read it, exactly expresses the spirit which gave 
 such a charm to her whole life, and imparted to it 
 such beneficent power: “An old Quaker lady got 
 on the car to-day, and I thought how pretty her 
 dress compared to the ladies who sat opposite to 
 her, with their gold chains, bracelets, etc. The 
 face of that Quakeress was so restful, and her dress 
 so neat, that I was almost tempted to tell her, and 
 ask her if I couldn’t join her band. I certainly am 
 convinced that the worry of women over dress and 
 finery is vain and wicked.” 
 
48 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 The woman spoke in these words. They simply | 
 
 voice herself. She shrank instinctively from every- 
 thing which could possibly hint at love of display 
 and publicity. If possible, her danger lay in the 
 other and wiser direction. ‘There was in her an 
 unaffected purity of character which raised her 
 
 above possibility of deception, and gave her that gq 
 
 open frankness which made her life irresistibly 
 attractive, and lent a charm and a beauty to her 
 piety which made religion winsome, as people saw 
 it in her daily life. Her mind could not “be cor- 
 rupted from the simplicity that is in Christ” by 
 any of the vanities of the world. I believe her 
 religious life illustrated the words of James: ‘ But 
 the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then 
 peaceable, gentle, easy to be entreated, full of 
 mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and 
 without hypocrisy. And the fruit of righteous- 
 ness is sown in peace of them that make peace.” 
 
 9.—HER RELIGION A REALITY. 
 
 The simplicity of her religious character appear- 
 ed also in the matter-of-fact way in which she 
 regarded Christian life. It was no mere theory 
 with her. Of theory she knew or cared very little. 
 She often said she could belong to almost any 
 church, if it was Christ’s. But her religion was 
 something to live by every day. She was too 
 guileless to wrest the word of God, but always 
 
 
 

 
 The Wefe. 49 
 
 took it to mean what it said. Hence heaven was 
 just as much of a reality to her, as really a place, 
 as Concord, or Cleveland, or Pepperell, and God 
 and Christ and the Holy Spirit were as real to her 
 as her own friends. Her daily communion with 
 them, and talk about them, was as if they were to 
 her an actual, conscious presence. 
 
 I said religion was not to her a mere theory. 
 She dealt with it, and talked to people about it, as 
 if it were a matter of course. As one said of 
 another,—‘‘She never argued in respect to religious 
 “matters. She /zved religion; it was a matter of 
 experience with her; she had no doubt in regard 
 to its reality; and it seemed like sacrilege to 
 admit that there could be any valid objection to 
 it.’* Hence she had a peculiar faculty of talking 
 to people about religion, as if it were as real and 
 precious to them as to her. Consequently she often 
 had access to ears which would have been shut to 
 most people. She could not understand how any 
 one could help being interested in the question - 
 which to her was so momentous. In the last 
 days, before she expected so soon to pass over the 
 hidden line, and when, as it now seems, she was 
 ripening for this great change, she said,—‘‘ I have 
 everything to live for; and yet why will people 
 cling so to this life, when heaven is so much more 
 glorious?’ Our conversation often turned upon 
 
 
 
 * Congregationalist, Sept. 17, 1879, p. 3. 
 
50 Annals of a Beautiful Life. = 7 
 
 the truths of God’s word, and then upon the world — 
 to come, and always she had that same simple, — 
 unaffected faith, which had as much confidence in 
 the reality of these things as if her eyes had seen 
 what they now do see, and her hands had touched 
 what they now do touch. Her Savior, to her, was 
 
 not a myth, but a blessed reality, and the chiefest — 
 
 among ten thousands, and the one altogether lovely. 
 I never heard her express the least doubt about her 
 acceptance with God, and I do not think she had 
 any. _ 
 To her, the Bible was the book of books. She — 
 loved to read it. Especially did she delight in the © 
 first epistle and the gospel of John. One of the 
 sisters writes,—‘‘ I know one time when we were 
 down home, Bell told me how beautiful she thought 
 the fourteenth chapter of John was. I had always 
 thought so too, but now it will seem more beautiful 
 to me than ever.” She was not satisfied merely to 
 say over the words of a chapter, and then lay the 
 blessed book aside. She wanted to find its mean- 
 ing, and learn the will of God. Always, in our 
 morning devotions, we would linger over the pas- 
 sage, and talk about it, and make it a study. We 
 were growing more and more into this habit, and 
 the Bible was coming to be to both of us, more than 
 ever, a marvellous book. Often, when she would 
 remain at home on a Sabbath morning, I would 
 find, on returning from church, that she had spent 
 
 
 

 
 The Woefe. 51 
 
 the hour in reading God’s word. Almost always 
 she would say,—‘‘I have found a text for you for 
 next week ;” and she would tell me her idea about 
 it, and offer such practical thoughts as were sure to 
 start a very inspiring train of reflection. In fact, 
 I scarcely ever wrote a sermon which was not in 
 some such way due to her. Often I got the plan 
 and main points of the theme from her, and many 
 of the discourses which she thus suggested were 
 most blessed of God. 
 
 She always read the Bible as God’s message to 
 inan, and as such she accepted it. She understood 
 God to méan what He said. She never had any 
 doubt about it. It wasall real to her. The prom- 
 ises were not fictions; the threats were not myths. 
 Christ was her Savior, because the Bible said so. 
 Eternal life she was sure of, because God had 
 promised it. She had no doubt about being ac- 
 cepted, because she had the sure word of Heaven. 
 She loved the book. It was her guide, and the 
 lamp to her path. In it alone she found the way 
 to live, and so lived. During the last days, when 
 she was able, we had our morning devotions at 
 her bedside, and the last chapter she ever heard 
 read was that wonderful one, the eighth of Romans. 
 Her earthly communion with the word of God 
 ended with these thrilling words, which fitly epito- 
 mize the faith in which she had lived: “For Iam 
 persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, 
 
52 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 ' nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, 
 nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any 
 other creature, shall be able to separate us from the 
 love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” In 
 such blessed, assuring faith she died, and nothing 
 was able to separate her from the love of God. 
 
 It will be readily understood that prayer, with 
 her, was not a mere repetition of words, but talking 
 
 with God face to face about her soul’s wants. It _ 
 
 never seemed to occur'to her that God would not 
 hear her, that she was talking into the air. She 
 prayed as if she were speaking into an ear open 
 and ready to listen. She always went to God with 
 the confidence of a child coming to a parent. 
 Prayer was a reality to her. I had great faith in 
 her prayers, and it gave me great strength to know 
 that she was asking God to bless me. Her ideas of 
 the nature of prayer were very exalted, and seemed 
 to me correct. She thought it consisted in thanking 
 God for blessings, and in telling Him our: wants. 
 And in what else can it consist? But she was far 
 from selfish in her thought of it, as she was in all 
 her religious life; for she was interested in the 
 welfare of others, and believed in interceding in 
 their behalf with Him who had done so much for 
 her. She certainly did prevail with God, if we 
 may judge from the fruits of her life. And why 
 may we not believe that her prayers are had in re- 
 membrance before Him, and that they are among 
 
 
 

 
 The Wafe. 53 
 
 the prayers of the saints, which were the odors in 
 the golden vials in the hands of the elders who 
 fell down before the Lamb ?—/rev. 5:8. 
 
 In her home life all these qualities shone in 
 stronger light than before the world. It is some- 
 times said that we need to see how one lives at 
 home, to get a true test of Christian character. She 
 would have stood that test. As I look back over 
 the eight blessed years that she shone as the light of 
 my life, I cannot find anything in her religious ex- 
 perience which one could wish to have different. 
 She often said, with perfect sincerity, that if she 
 were to live her life over, she did not know where- 
 in she could make any very great change. This 
 was no boasting, or assumption of anything like 
 approach to perfection. She had no such thought 
 as that; but it was the expression of a constant and 
 conscientious effort to live in obedience to the will 
 of God. It was the expression of spotless purity 
 of thought and purpose. I do not believe she ever 
 had a thought, purpose, or act, to conceal. She 
 was ignorant of very many things in which young 
 ladies now are wise, but she was wise beyond 
 many in those things which belong to nobility of 
 character. 
 
 10.—LOVE FOR THE CAUSE OF MISSIONS. 
 
 I think her interest in missionary work was bet- 
 ter understood in Concord than in Cleveland. In 
 
 5 
 
 * 
 
54 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 . Concord she was one of the foremost ones in the 
 Union Missionary Society, of which she was made 
 a life-member by the young ladies. Twice was she 
 elected secretary of the Woman’s Board. A third 
 election was offered her, which she felt obliged to 
 decline. Extracts from her annual report to the 
 society, in January, 1877, will be read with interest, 
 as expressing her views of the vast work: 
 
 ‘‘Another year has sweetly and mercifully dawn- 
 ed upon us, and we stand, as it were, on its very 
 edge, possibly too fearful on account of the errors 
 of the past to have full confidence in ourselves in 
 the future. As we thus reflect, the apostle’s words 
 come to us with double meaning,—‘ Forgetting 
 those things which are behind, and reaching forth 
 unto those things which are before.’ With this 
 precious thought to inspire, shall it not be-our aim 
 in the coming year to pray more earnestly and 
 labor more faithfully for this Missionary Society, 
 whose interests should be very dear to all our 
 hearts? When we read such touchingly sweet and 
 trustful letters from the missionaries, who have 
 left their homes of luxury to go out and labor 
 among these poor, unenlightened women, do not 
 our hearts go out in sympathy, and a new zeal to 
 be up and doing? I think we all know the value 
 of kind words. It may not ever be our privilege to 
 speak to any of these, but it zs our privilege to pray 
 for them; and who shall know the value of one 
 prayer that ascends to the Father in simple, child- 
 like faith, believing? Tennyson says,— 
 
 ‘°T is only noble to be good.’ 
 Would that he had added, to do good.” 
 
 
 

 
 The Wife. 55 
 
 Here follows a brief account of the year’s work 
 of the society. Then she adds,— 
 
 “ Christ says, ‘to whom much is given, of him 
 shall much be required.’ We can but feel that God 
 has smiled His blessing upon us in allowing us to 
 receive so much from His hand. The advantages 
 with which His unstinted love has surrounded us 
 ought certainly to make us more obedient to His 
 will. God has given us a multitude of blessings 
 in common. Besides these, He has given us bless- 
 ings which are peculiar to each. 
 
 ‘“The apostle says,—‘ There are diversities of 
 gifts, but the same spirit ;’ ‘ differences of adminis- 
 tration, but the same Lord ;’ ‘diversities of opera- 
 tions, but it is the same God which worketh all in 
 all.” However, then, we may differ in our personal 
 qualifications for Christian work, the blessings of 
 each are abundant, and the fruit required is abun- 
 dant; but all our efforts to extend God’s kingdom 
 will result in the one end, of glorifying Him, if we 
 are all actuated by the same spirit. As the spring 
 unlocks the hidden calyx of the flower, and per- 
 fumes the air with its odor, and delights our senses, 
 so may our hearts be unlocked by the divine Spirit, 
 with a fresh consecration, to send out more freely 
 of our works, our offerings, and our prayers. 
 
 “The work itself may seem small, the sphere 
 in which we move unnoticed by the world; but 
 Christ says,—‘ He that is faithful in that which is 
 least, is faithful also in much;’ and he said to the 
 servants who had the two and five pounds, ‘ Thou 
 hast been faithful over a few things, I will make 
 thee ruler over many things; enter thou into the 
 
 joy of thy Lord.’” 
 
56 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 After hearing the report, the ladies tried to 
 persuade her to let it be read at the monthly con- 
 cert in the churches; but she was too distrustful 
 of its merits to consent. The judgment of others 
 was more just to her than she was to herself. Her 
 retiring nature appears, from the fact that it cost 
 her a great effort to present her report in the little 
 company of ladies, and the strain upon her was. 
 such that she felt its effects for weeks. She shrank, 
 like a sensitive plant, from all such prominence. 
 
 11.—HER INTEREST IN THE SALVATION OF SOULS. 
 
 Letters already quoted show how deeply she 
 was interested in the work of the church. She 
 gave her thought and heart to it, more than was 
 generally known. It gave her great joy when any 
 anxiously asked what they must do to be saved, 
 and still greater joy when at last they came into 
 the church. Her desire to see souls saved was 
 such as might be expected from one as wholly 
 given as she was to the work of the Redeemer’s 
 kingdom. There are those in Concord and in 
 Cleveland who have been the subjects of her 
 prayers, and if they are not saved at last, it will 
 not be because she failed of her duty to them. 
 Very soon after going to Concord she took a class 
 of girls in the Sabbath-school. Before she felt 
 obliged to give it up, her personal efforts with its 
 members resulted in the conversion of nearly all 
 
 
 

 
 The Wife. e ake 
 
 of them. She herself led them to Christ, by God’s 
 blessing, and they came into the church through 
 her influence. One of the first things she thought 
 of, on coming to Cleveland, was a prayer-meeting, 
 by which she might reach the young girls of the 
 church. She had it long enough to show what 
 might reasonably be expected from it; but there 
 were reasons why she deemed it wise not to con- 
 tinue it. 
 
 She never missed opportunities for urging re- 
 ligion upon those with whom she came in contact ; 
 and she always did it with such gentleness and 
 grace as never to cause offence. She spent the 
 summer of 1877 at the sea-shore. One morning a 
 young man from Concord, who was boarding near, 
 called at our cottage. He was inclined to be scep- 
 tical. She spent the whole morning in pointing 
 him to the Saviour, with a straight-forward faith- 
 fulness which was like her. That very day, not 
 three hours after he had left her, he perished in 
 the flames of a burning building. Doubtless she 
 was the last to urge upon him the importance of 
 making his peace with God at once. I do not think 
 that any soul can stand up at the last day and re- 
 proach her with known neglect of duty. 
 
 12.—SHE BEING DEAD YET SPEAKETH. 
 
 This simple story, which I have taken sad com- 
 fort and pleasure in writing, since the beautiful tale 
 
58 * Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 has ceased telling itself here, might be lengthened — 
 
 indefinitely by such facts as these. Her life ended 
 on that beautiful July morning, and yet it did not 
 end. The words of the writer to the Hebrews 
 
 come to me; and I say that she being dead yet | 
 
 speaks by her fragrant memory, and her beautiful 
 life, and her counsels of wisdom and love. For 
 these come back to me with the vividness of noon- 
 day’s light, as if Christ’s words had become bless- 
 edly true of her,—namely, that.whatever she said 
 by way of advice or counsel, and whatever gra- 
 cious influence she exerted, are brought to delight- 
 ful remembrance. Words are too poor to tell what 
 a wife she has been. Language has not wealth 
 enough of expression to tell the richness of her 
 life to me. ‘‘ Her price was far above rubies.” 
 
 ‘‘Upon my troubled life 
 She gently shone, as shineth some fair star 
 Upon tempestuous waters, as this night 
 Upon the swellings dark of Jordan shines 
 The summer moon. 
 * * * * * * 
 
 And she was my delight 
 And comfort for a while, a little while, 
 Until God called her.” 
 
 The struggle to give her up has been a terrible 
 one, and even yet it sometimes returns upon the soul 
 with an almost malignant fury of crushing force. 
 
 * Ezekiel—a poem. e 
 
 
 

 
 The Wefe. , 59 
 
 I cannot bless God enough that He let me have 
 her so long—eight blessed years, on whose sky her 
 memory leaves not a cloud. The words of Mary 
 Wollstonecraft Godwin, about the poet Shelley, 
 whom she seems to have loved intensely, come to 
 me about Isabel : 
 
 ‘* But, ah! I feelin this was given 
 A blessing never meant for me; 
 Thou art too like a dream from heaven 
 For earthly love to merit thee.” 
 
 Her life was not long. Thirty-two is but at the 
 threshold, as we are wont to reckon. But if a life 
 is to be measured by ‘ deeds, not words,” if 
 
 ‘« That life is long which answers life’s great end,” 
 
 her life was not short. For the chief end of man 
 is to glorify God, and enjoy him forever. She did 
 glorify God, and she has entered on the eternal en- 
 joyment of the Divine presence. Her life was 
 long for what she did, and the imperishable mem- 
 ory she has left behind her will live forever. 
 
 I do not claim for her that she excelled all other 
 women. Ido not claim that no other woman ever 
 did her part as well. Ido not claim that no other 
 woman was greater, as the world reckons. I do 
 not claim that she filled a place in as wide a 
 sphere as such women as Mary Lyon, or Alice and 
 Phebe Cary, whom she regarded with unfeigned 
 
60 Annals of a Beautiful Lefe. 
 
 admiration; but that in the sphere in which she 
 was called to walk she lived as unselfishly, and 
 did her part as well, as woman can. And higher 
 praise cannot be bestowed than that which Christ 
 
 bestowed,—‘‘ She hath done what she could.” In 
 
 this respect, as in every other, her life is worth 
 taking as a model; and I cannot wish more or bet- 
 ter things for the coming women, than that they 
 may be such daughters as she was, and make as 
 faithful, wise, loving wives. I confess Il was proud 
 of her—perhaps too fondly so. Yet I never saw 
 her in any place which her presence did not grace. 
 As one said of her since her death, **She could 
 not be other than graceful.” But her grace was 
 not put on. It was nature polished and made 
 beautiful by the Spirit of God. It was character. 
 At any rate, I know that I may be pardoned if I 
 say,—for her sweet life justifies me in it,—that 
 there can be no purer, gentler, womanlier woman, 
 or a more Christlike Christian. 
 
 
 

 
 Nd 
 ie LAST. DAYS. 
 
 It is left to tell briefly, for those who may not 
 know it, the sad story of the last days. The heart 
 swells to bursting, and the eyes run over with 
 tears, as those hours of suffering are recalled which 
 no skill availed to relieve for a single moment. 
 From the very first her sickness was of a startlingly 
 malignant form. So violent was it, that for six or 
 seven weeks she could take scarcely any nourish- 
 ment; the last two weeks, none at all. Through it 
 all she was the same patient, cheerful, Christian 
 woman, thankful for everything done for her, and 
 looking on to the future with an eager and a delight- 
 ed sense and expectancy of motherhood which 
 was too sacred to be spoken. She talked much, 
 as she always did freely, about dying, and heaven, 
 and the glory of the other world—more the last 
 days of her life. Precious and consoling is the 
 memory of her sweet trust and fearless hope. The 
 night before she died, when it was not thought the 
 end was near, she said, with that triumph which 
 God gives His saints, “I am not afraid to die.” 
 
62 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 It seemed to me during her sickness, and seems to 
 me now as [ think of it, that, if possible, she had 
 been growing in loveliness the last months of her 
 life. Was she not ripening for heaven? 
 
 Very early Wednesday morning, July 30, it be- 
 came painfully evident that she had not strength 
 
 to get through, so completely had her long and dis- 
 tressing sickness taken away the vitality from her 
 naturally frail, delicate, and sensitive organism. 
 How frail, delicate, and sensitive she was could 
 be known by only those who were with her con- 
 stantly, for her uncomplaining spirit always had 
 a smile and a word of sympathy for others; and 
 she has sat and listened to their woes without a 
 word about herself, mingled her tears freely with 
 theirs, and then gone from letting them out at the 
 front door to lie down and rest from the severe 
 strain which had been put upon her. She was 
 too weak, this last morning, to talk very much, but 
 her mind was perfectly clear. She was heard to 
 say ‘*My mother,” as if she had said ‘I want to 
 see my mother.” She was asked if that was what 
 she said, and answered Yes. Presently she said, 
 **T do not think I shall get well;” and then, after a 
 pause, ‘‘but Iam going to a better place.” After 
 
 a little her face lighted with a heavenly rapture, — 
 
 and she said, with closed eyes, as if she were talk- 
 ing to one whom we did not see, ‘‘ Beautiful, deau- 
 tiful heaven.” A little later I asked her if she 
 
 
 

 
 The Last Days. 63 
 
 could recall the twenty-third Psalm. She answered 
 that she could. I said, Can you say now “ The 
 Lord is my shepherd,” &c.? ‘*Oh! yes,” was her 
 reply. Can you leave yourself wholly with Jesus? 
 I inquired; and again the same reply, given in ac- 
 cents whose sweetness can never die on my ear, 
 ‘Oh! yes.” She knew us all, and called us by 
 name. In a few minutes she asked to be lifted. 
 When we laid her back, her eye had a far-off look, 
 as if she were looking beyond the veil. A light 
 . of glory stole over her features. Gently, calmly, 
 and without a struggle, she fell asleep, at 7:10 
 o'clock, Wednesday morning, July 30. Her death 
 was glorious in its simple beauty. It did not seem 
 like death. There were no terrors, but triumph. 
 A lady who was by her side when she died, said 
 that heaven seemed real, standing by that death- 
 bed. As we saw her lay her head down on the 
 bosom of the Saviour she loved, we said, ‘‘ Let me 
 die the death of the righteous, and let my last end 
 be like his.” Her whole life was like a beautiful 
 June morning. Her death was like the rich golden 
 flush on the evening sky of a ripe autumnal day. 
 She has left behind her a beautiful life. In think- 
 ing it over since it became the greater part of my 
 own, I can find no spot to mar the beautiful color- 
 ing. She died as she had lived—peacefully, glo- 
 riously, triumphantly. Because she had lived for 
 Christ, she died in the all-embracing arms of His 
 
64 — Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 love. I was permitted to go with her from the 
 moment her sickness began till her feet touched 
 the cold waters of the river of death. I was per- 
 mitted to close her eyes in their final sleep. I 
 could do no more, and go no farther. I stand on 
 the hither shore, and wait. As one of the sisters 
 wrote me after her death, it remains for us to im- 
 itate her example of Christ-like living. 
 ._ Her funeral was held at the home she loved so 
 much, 664 Case Avenue, Thursday morning, July 
 31. Rev. J. E. Twitchell, p.p., of East Cleve- 
 land, conducted the sad services, and made remarks 
 most appropriate and comforting, a brief synopsis 
 of which appears in another place. The follow- 
 ing hymns were sung by members of the church 
 choir—hymns which were especial favorites with 
 her. One was the beautiful hymn, ‘‘O Parapisg !” 
 founded on the passage, ‘‘ There the wicked cease 
 from troubling, and the weary are at rest.” | 
 
 ‘“*O Paradise! O Paradise! 
 Who doth not crave for rest? 
 Who would not seek that happy land, 
 Where they that loved are blest? CHorus. 
 
 ‘*O Paradise! O Paradise! 
 ’T is weary waiting here ; 
 I long to be where Jesus is, 
 To feel, to see Him near. CHORUS. 
 
 
 

 
 i 
 
 The Last Days. 65 
 
 ‘‘O Paradise! O Paradise! 
 I greatly long to see 
 The special place my dearest Lord 
 Is destining for me. CHORUS. 
 
 ‘“¢O Paradise! O Paradise! 
 
 I feel ’t will not be long: 
 Patience! I almost think I hear 
 Faint fragments of thy song. 
 
 ‘*CHorus. Where loyal hearts and true 
 Stand ever in the light, 
 All rapture through and through, 
 In God’s most holy light.” 
 
 _ The other hymn is entitled “ ARE THY TOILS,” 
 and is founded on the passage, ‘‘ Weeping may 
 endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morn- 
 ing.” 
 
 ‘« Are thy toils and woes increasing? 
 Are thy foe’s attacks unceasing? 
 Look with faith unclouded, 
 
 Gaze with eyes unshrouded, 
 On the Cross. 
 
 ‘‘ Dost thou fear that strictest trial? 
 Tremblest thou at Christ’s denial? 
 Never rest without it, 
 
 Clasp thine hands about it, 
 That dear Cross. 
 
66 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 ‘¢ Draw’st thou nigh to Jordan’s river? 
 Should’st thou tremble? Need’st thou quiver? 
 No! if by it lying, 
 No! if on it dying, - 
 On the Cross ! 
 
 ‘¢ Lord and Master ! if we cherish 
 That sweet hope, we cannot perish ! 
 After this life’s story, 
 Give thou us the glory 
 
 For the Cipss.” 
 
 The house was filled to overflowing with friends 
 who came to take a last look at her lovely face, 
 and to prove how deep and wide a hold she had 
 got upon the people. A beautiful crown, and an 
 anchor furnished by the Sabbath-school and by 
 the ladies, and a great profusion of cut flowers 
 sent in by other friends, were thoughtful and fra- 
 grant tokens of the love they bore her. She loved 
 flowers—loved them almost passionately. How 
 could she help it, since she and they were beauti- 
 ful creations of the same hand of infinite skill! 
 These sweet offerings of love to her precious mem- 
 ory were therefore peculiarly fitting. 
 
 The elders of the church acted as bearers. They 
 bore her tenderly away from the home of which 
 she had been the light and joy, and a great dark- 
 ness settled down upon it and filled it. We took 
 her to the train which was to bear her away on 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 The Last Days. 67 
 
 her last journey to the home of her childhood. In 
 our early plans for vacation, this was the week 
 and this the train we had fixed upon to start. But, 
 alas! such a starting was not in our thought. 
 Truly, man proposes, but God disposes. Two 
 elders were thoughtfully sent by the church to be 
 their representatives at the last sad rites in the 
 dear home at Pepperell. The train moved out of 
 the station at 3 o’clock, and we bade adieu toa host 
 of friends who had come to the station to do the 
 last they could for her whom they had learned, in 
 so brief a time, to love so well. 
 
 The services at Pepperell, in an equal manner, 
 attested the love with which she was loved in the 
 home of her childhood, and in the South Church 
 in Concord. A large number of friends from Con- 
 cord came to express their deep and genuine sor- 
 row, and to represent a larger number who could 
 not come. Profuse and beautiful floral decorations 
 sent from New York, brought by the Concord 
 friends, accompanying us from Cleveland, and 
 contributed by those in Pepperell who loved her, 
 filled the house with a fragrance which was a type 
 of the lingering sweetness of her blessed life. 
 
 Rev. Geo. F. Swain, pastor of the church in 
 Pepperell, into whose communion she entered 
 when she first publicly declared herself to be one 
 of Christ’s own, conducted the services. ‘These 
 were made peculiarly interesting, not only by his 
 
68 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 words of testimony to her worth of character, but 
 also by those of Dea. C. W. Harvey of the South 
 Church in Concord, and of Elder H. M. James of 
 the Woodland Avenue Church in Cleveland, who 
 voiced the feelings of these churches, where she 
 had been known so well as the wife of their pas- 
 tor. A quartette of the young people added to the 
 occasion by singing one of the hymns of Mr. Bliss, 
 suggested by words which she was fond of quot- 
 ing,—“ We know that when He shall appear we 
 shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is.” 
 She loved this hymn, and often sang it with great 
 sweetness and expression. It will ever be, with 
 some of us, sacred to her memory, and we shall 
 know it as her hymn: 
 
 ‘¢T know not the hour when my Lord will come 
 To take me away to His own dear home; 
 But I know that His presence will lighten the gloom, 
 And that will be glory for me. 
 
 ‘¢T know not the song that the angels sing, 
 I know not the sound of the harps’ glad ring ; 
 But I know there ’ll be mention of Jesus our King, 
 And that will be music for me. 
 
 ‘¢T know not the form of my mansion fair, 
 I know not the name that I then shall bear; 
 But I know that my Savior will welcome me there, 
 And that will be heaven for me.” 
 
 
 

 
 The Last Days. 69 
 
 There was such a quiet simplicity and lack of 
 formality about all the services, that we almost 
 forgot it was a funeral. And I am not sure that it 
 was not, to some of the hearts which bled, a sea- 
 son of holy joy, that God had so honored us by 
 putting a glorious crown of life on her brow. At 
 least, I am sure that heaven will seem nearer than 
 ever before to some of us, and that we shall feel a 
 certain right of possession in it, now that our 
 Savior and hers has taken her to Himself. 
 
 A large and tearful company gathered about her 
 last resting-place. Some kind hand had fringed 
 the sacred spot with evergreen—sprigs from the 
 Arbor Vite; as if Heaven itself had given us these 
 tokens that she had now a right to the ‘tree of 
 life,’ among those whom John speaks of in Rev- . 
 elations 22:14, and that she had entered through 
 the gates into the celestial city, and that she should 
 live forever. There was no terror in that grave. 
 As she was gently laid away in it, it lost its vic- 
 tory and became a hallowed spot. It did not seem 
 as if it would be hard to lie there too. For the 
 Master stood there with some of us, and we knew 
 that we had left her with Him, and that in a little 
 time He would fulfil to us, as He had to her, the 
 promise, ‘And if I go and prepare a place for 
 you, I will come again and receive you unto my- 
 self; that where I am, there ye may be also.” A 
 hymn, ‘Jesus, lover of my soul,” &c., which she 
 
 6 
 
70 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 often sang, was sung, a brief committal service 
 was said, and all that was mortal of the loved and 
 lovely daughter, sister, wife, was left to rest in the 
 ground, in a living hope and belief in the resur- 
 rection, through Jesus Christ, who said, “I am 
 the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in 
 me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and 
 whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never 
 die.” And so we came away, thinking of her, not 
 as in the grave, but as with Christ. 
 
 Standing by the coffin of his dead brother, Rob- 
 ert Ingersoll said,—* Life is a narrow vale, between 
 the cold and barren peaks of two eternities. We 
 strive in vain to look beyond the heights. We 
 cry aloud, and the only answer is the echo of our 
 wailing cry. From the voiceless lips of the unre- 
 plying dead there comes no word; but in the night 
 of death hope sees a star, and, listening, love can 
 hear the rustle of a wing.” And the strong man 
 stood there with no comfort or support in his 
 grief and loss. Sweet little Edith, but five years 
 old, who had never before seen the face of the 
 dead, full of questions, as she stood gazing into 
 the casket, could not understand about the auntie 
 whom she had seen but two short months before 
 in the flush and bloom of health. At last she 
 thought out the problem in her own little head, 
 and was satisfied, and awoke the auntie she was 
 sleeping with to tell her solution of it. ‘“‘I know 
 
 
 

 
 The Last Days. 71 
 
 now how it is about Auntie Isabel. Her dody is in 
 the churchyard, but her /zfe has gone to be with 
 God.” Oh! sweet and childish faith, old as the 
 time of the preacher who said, ‘‘And the spirit 
 shall return unto God who gave it,” thou hast been 
 our only comfort and support under this blow, 
 which has fallen with crushing weight of sorrow 
 upon our hearts. From the lips of our dead does 
 come back a word to our ears, and that word is 
 the word of God, voiced by the child who solved 
 the problem before which the proud philosopher 
 stood bafled. Death was swallowed up in victory. 
 
 She sleeps sweetly in Jesus, in the cemetery of 
 _ the beautiful town of her birth; and her grave is 
 under the shadows of the trees, where the moon 
 she loved so well can look over and smile upon 
 her resting-place, when it rises to begin its voyage 
 through the Night. When the last trump shall 
 break the silence of the tomb, the dead in Christ 
 shall rise, and she shall be among them, glorious 
 in eternal beauty. For the mouth of the Lord 
 hath spoken it.* 
 
 The following lines express my thoughts so well, 
 I quote them here: 
 
 ‘‘T must fulfil 
 My stormy day. * sj z ig ge 
 * 
 
 co * 2 * ok * 2 
 By my ruined home 
 I stand to speak for God, and stretch my hands, 
 * 1 Thess. 4: 13-17. 
 
 t 
 
72 
 
 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 Emptied of their sweet treasure, in God’s name 
 To all the people. And the Lord alone 
 Himself doth comfort me. 
 
 And when at length 
 The evening-time of my long day shall come, 
 And God shall give me leave to lay aside 
 The prophet’s mournful mantle for the robe 
 Of joy and light,—when at His Gate I find 
 An everlasting entrance, there my love 
 Shall meet me smiling. After my long day 
 Of storm and conflict, I shall feel once more 
 The joy of finding her awaiting me 
 At eventide, and drawing me to rest 
 With her in God. Then shall I hear at length ~ 
 Her sweet voice singing to harps of gold, 
 And see her crowned with joy.t 
 
 } Ezekiel, 
 
 
 

 
 Uy: 
 DR. TWITCHELL’S REMARKS AT HER FUNERAL. 
 
 Only a synopsis of the remarks of Dr. Twitchell 
 can be given, and that cannot do them justice. 
 What he said was largely inspired by the occasion, 
 and was so eminently appropriate and comforting, 
 that it is a matter of regret that we cannot have 
 his exact words to record. 
 
 THE REMARKS. 
 
 In some respects this is no uncommon scene. 
 With funeral services we are all familiar, yet they 
 never lose their sadness. With all the light that 
 plays about them, born of our blessed Christian 
 faith, we walk in the shadows when we are be- 
 reaved ; and we feel the need of an Almighty arm 
 on which to lean. 
 
 It is the manifest order of nature for the aged to 
 die. They grow feeble under the weight of years. 
 They have endured, enjoyed, and wrought unto 
 the fulfilling of their earth-mission. Infirmities 
 have multiplied upon them; burdens have grown 
 heavy and heavier; their strength has become 
 
74 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 labor and sorrow.. They expect to change worlds: 
 we expect they will. Thus, with all the sense of 
 
 grief, and loss, and loneliness left upon the living, q 
 
 we are somewhat prepared for the separation. We 
 always begin to think and talk of rest for the aged, 
 
 It is widely different, however, when the child, 
 or the youth, or one in the strength and vigor of 
 early manhood or womanhood, passes from us into 
 the spirit-world. Then it seems as if there had 
 been some sudden reversal of law, and as if some 
 unkind providence had interfered. At such a time 
 no cold human philosophy can dispel the gloom; 
 no mere human reasoning can give radiance to the 
 bowed and bleeding heart. Nothing short of faith 
 in Him who sees the end from the beginning, and 
 who has given the assurance that all things shall 
 work together for good to them that love God, can 
 bring comfort and peace. 
 
 If we could see things as God sees them, we 
 should not murmur when our loved ones, who 
 have grown God-like, take a vessel swifter bound, 
 and reach the land of Beulah in advance of us. 
 
 We are wont to measure life by the number of 
 the years lived on earth. God measures life by the 
 graces of the Spirit wrought into it, and the influ- 
 ential forces that have gone forth from it. There 
 are lives, of comparatively many years, of little 
 development or use to the world. Then there are 
 other lives, of comparatively few years, of won- 
 
 
 
 
 rh; 
 

 
 Remarks at Her Funeral. 75 
 
 drous growth and power. We have no measure 
 for spiritual embodiments and influences. We 
 live, not in years, but in growths and deeds. 
 
 We are accustomed to say that one’s work is 
 done when the silver cord is loosed and the golden 
 bowl is broken. But he whose heart has been 
 pervaded with the breath of God, leaves behind 
 him sweet fragrance never to be wafted from the 
 world. The hands may cease their toil, the feet to 
 run on errands of mercy, the voice be hushed; 
 but there are holy ministries which go on perpet- 
 uating themselves in the home, in the church, in 
 society, through all the wide reach of undying 
 influence. There is not a home out of which hus- 
 band or wife has been borne to rest, but feels the 
 beating of that life there, like the holy benediction 
 of Heaven. Our friends go from us, but they re- 
 main with us. The deeds they wrought, the sacri- 
 fices they made, the words they spoke, the smiles 
 they gave—all these are our everlasting legacy. 
 
 We talk of separations. But the two worlds are 
 nearer together by far than most imagine. There 
 is no dark, wide river rolling between them. Often 
 before the lights grow dim on this hither shore, 
 they gleam from the farther side. Often adieus 
 are scarcely spoken before greetings are exchanged. 
 It is parting here, reunion there. Death is but the 
 gateway into life. The gate swings;—we say, 
 Farewell, and hear at once the welcome. 
 
76 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 
 
 
 
 It is not always easy to grasp these truths and 
 rest in them. But they become real to us, and it 
 is wonderful how grace performs its work, as the 
 end draws on. Angels always come for the 
 strengthening of God’s own, as unto Him who tar- 
 ried in Gethsemane, close on Calvary. God never 
 leads His children, without giving them His hand; 
 never puts them to any great test, without girding 
 them for it by His own unseen presence and power. 
 The waters are never permitted to overwhelm. 
 
 Such is the experience of my dear brother in 
 this sudden, deep affliction, which came like an 
 avalanche upon him. ‘The curtain has fallen on 
 a glorious life,” he said, ‘‘ but there is light some- — 
 where, and I shall see it.” Yes, he wz//, he HAs. 
 Such also was the experience of that pure, patient 
 wife, whose going forth has left such desolation on 
 this happy home, such a sense of loss on this 
 church, where she had won her way to every heart, 
 and on this community where the sweet influence 
 of her godly life had begun to be felt far and wide. 
 
 The life of her whom we mourn to-day was no 
 ordinary life. It was full of blossoms all the way 
 through. It ended, as our eyes are able to trace it, 
 in a halo of glory. At the age of fourteen she 
 gave her heart to Christ, and was the instrument 
 then of leading many others into a knowledge of 
 His saving grace. It was under the influence of 
 no excitement that she was led to the Savior’s feet 
 
 *« 
 

 
 Remarks at Her Funeral. 77 
 
 in blessed love and faith, but under a deep convic 
 tion of duty and privilege. Her heart seemed to 
 open like a flower of the morning, to drink in the 
 _ dew and sunlight of the day. 
 
 As the years of her childhood passed she grew 
 in the knowledge and love of God, showing a re- 
 markable conscientiousness and loyalty to the Mas- 
 ter. Nothing was ever allowed to come between 
 her soul and Christ. Her opening womanhood 
 was of rare beauty and strength of Christian char- 
 acter. When she came to be the wife of one of 
 God’s ambassadors, she was found rarely fitted to 
 share with him the burdens of his blessed work. 
 The heart of her husband trusted in her, and was 
 never disappointed. Greater eulogy than this can- 
 not be passed upon woman, when you cover by it 
 the whole wide range of Christian helpfulness. 
 
 These eight years of married life have been years 
 of joy and beauty. Encouraging her husband in 
 times of anxiety and trial, making double the joys 
 and hopes that came to him, moving quietly and 
 unobtrusively among the people, avoiding all strife, 
 entering into the pleasures and pains of others, she 
 exerted a sweet and sanctifying influence through- 
 out the whole circle of her connections. Coming 
 to you, dear friends of the Woodland Avenue 
 Church, some eighteen months ago, and taking up 
 the duties of a pastor’s wife among you, she com- 
 manded at once your completest confidence, and 
 
78 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 won your hearts, illustrating, as she did, the won- 
 
 derful grace of God to a believing, trusting soul. 
 This affliction is heaviest on him who must come 
 
 back alone to the home here when the last offices 
 
 of love have been performed, and here take up 
 
 alone the labor of a great parish, no more to have 
 the sympathy, the encouragement, the inspiration, 
 of an affectionate, faithful, heroic wife. 
 
 But this affliction is of a public nature. One is 
 taken from active labor on whom you, as a church 
 and people, had hoped to lean; whose counsel you 
 had expected to enjoy for many years; to whom 
 you had looked to go in and out among you with 
 her husband, fulfilling the duties of her station, 
 aiding him as the Christian pastor’s wife alone can 
 aid him. 
 
 You will never forget her. You will never cease 
 to cherish her precious memory. You will never 
 escape the influence of her loving, patient, trust- 
 ful, rejoicing life, and of her triumphant death. 
 The halo of brightness which came—the crown of 
 it all—as she was called up higher, will never de- 
 part, but will rest like a holy benediction on the 
 home and on the church, long days to come. Such 
 a life of precious faith and pure love is not lived 
 in vain, and such a glorious death occurs not in 
 vain. 
 
 There are many lessons that might be drawn 
 from this affliction. Among them these: 
 

 
 Sey) es ee ee ee 
 
 Remarks at Her Funeral. 79 
 
 First. We see the silent power of a Christian 
 heart and life. Nature works noiselessly. ‘The 
 breath of spring breathes on the earth, and dissolves 
 the icy rigors of winter, and clothes the hills and 
 valleys with verdure.” Thus divine grace works 
 in the soul of man; often so silently as to attract 
 little attention. Here was one walking quietly in 
 the relation of wife, friend, and counsellor for all. 
 Naturally timid, and shrinking from observation, 
 she wrought on, ever cheering the heart of her 
 husband when weary with multiplied cares; bid- 
 ding him take hope when shadows of any kind 
 began to gather; counselling him in all his work ; 
 praying for him when he wrote sermons and when 
 he preached them; praying for you often when 
 your eyes were closed in sleep. The ages of eter- 
 nity alone will give record of what she accom- 
 plished through the influence of her Christian life, 
 under the power of the Spirit of God. 
 
 SECONDLY. We see here the wonderful grace of 
 God in sustaining her when it became manifest 
 that her days were numbered. Here was one who 
 had not reached middle life; her home attractive ; 
 her friends many; everything about her for com- 
 fort and joy that earth could give,—yet perfectly 
 resigned to leave all for the better, more glorious 
 joys awaiting the redeemed. It was the wonder 
 of her heart, which she often expressed in health, 
 that men could so grasp after and live for the 
 
80 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 things of this world, and cling so to earth, which 
 can never satisfy the cravings of the soul, since 
 Christ has gone to prepare a home so much more 
 beautiful for those who love Him. Who shall say 
 that, as the end drew near, the veil was not lifted? 
 God giveth His children victory. The faith of the 
 gospel triumphs. Nothing else does. 
 
 Tuirpiy. There is an added responsibility put 
 upon this church to-day. It is left for you to take 
 up the work she has laid down, and to illustrate in 
 your lives the faith which made her life so beauti- 
 ful and efficient. 
 
 FourTHLy. There is now, dear brother, the 
 possibility of illustrating the comfort of God, which 
 you have so often assured others should be found 
 in their afflictions. 
 
 We come here to-day sorrowing, yet rejoicing. 
 We come with thanksgiving unto Him who giveth 
 the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. My 
 dear brother, the Lord bless and comfort you. The 
 Lord gird you for grander work in His vineyard, 
 sanctifying this and all other sorrows to the higher 
 good of yourself and of your dear people. 
 
 After these remarks, which were prefaced by 
 prayer offered by Rev. J. R. Mills, p.p., of the 
 Scovill Avenue M. E. Church, Rev. Anson Smythe, 
 D. D., offered prayer, a hymn was sung, the bene- 
 diction was pronounced by Rev. H. R. Hoisington 
 
 a 
 oa 
 A ee. 
 

 
 Remarks at Her Funeral. 81 
 
 of the North Presbyterian Church, and the large 
 concourse of people looked for the last time upon 
 ' that sweet face, which even death could not rob of 
 its loveliness ; on which was that smile of victory 
 over death and over everything Sec which she 
 had carried in ne life. 
 
VIII. 
 
 WHAT OTHERS SAID OF HER. 
 
 A husband’s estimate of his wife might, naturally 
 enough, be supposed to be colored somewhat by 
 his love for her. A member of a family might 
 not be considered most fitted to write an impartial 
 sketch of another member of the same family. If 
 anything said in the preceding pages seems to 
 border even upon extravagance, what others said 
 of her, when they heard of her death, who were in 
 no way connected with her by ties of kindred, and 
 who knew her only as the world might know any 
 worthy life, surely cannot be charged with any 
 show of impartiality. 
 
 I.—WHAT THE PRESS SAID OF HER. 
 
 From the Cleveland Leader, Thursday morning, 
 Puly ats 
 
 DEATH OF MRS. BLAKE. 
 
 A gloom has been thrown over the Woodland 
 Avenue Presbyterian Church, and over the entire 
 community, by the sudden death of the estimable 
 wife of Rev. S. L. Blake, the pastor of the church. 
 Mrs. Blake has been a resident of this city less than 
 
 
 
Re iim ee a 
 
 
 
 What Others Said of Her. 83 
 
 two years, but in that time she has made a multi- 
 tude of ardent friends. Her gentle yet earnest 
 Christian character, and her winning manners, have 
 drawn to her all who have come within the circle 
 of her acquaintance. It is not often that a death 
 calls out so much genuine sorrow. 
 
 Mrs. Blake died yesterday morning at her resi- 
 dence on Case avenue, at which place services will 
 be held at 11 o’clock to-day. The burial will take 
 place at Pepperell, Mass., her former home, on 
 Saturday. As Mr. Blake thus sadly starts on his 
 vacation, he will bear with him the sympathy of 
 his many friends. 
 
 
 
 From the Cleveland Leader, Friday morning, 
 August 1: 
 
 THE LAST SAD JOURNEY. 
 
 A large number of friends gathered at the resi- 
 dence of Rev. S. L. Blake yesterday, at 11 aA. M., 
 to pay the last tribute of respect to a noble Chris- 
 tian lady, who was so suddenly taken out of a life 
 of useful happiness. The services were short and 
 simple. The sympathy of all was deep and touch- 
 ing; and all was done that friendly hands could do 
 to lighten some portion of the heavy load so sud- 
 denly laid upon a beloved pastor and respected 
 man. ‘The body was removed to the depot, and. 
 taken toward its long resting-place in the old Mas- 
 sachusetts home. 
 
 
 
 From the Cleveland Herald, Thursday morning, 
 July 31: 
 DEATH OF MRS. BLAKE. 
 
 We record with sorrow and sympathy the death 
 
84 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 of the very excellent wife of Rev. S. L. Blake, pas- 
 tor of the Woodland Avenue Presbyterian Church 
 of this city. In the somewhat brief period that 
 this lady has been known to the people of Cleve- 
 land, she has drawn around her a host of friends, 
 not only in the church of which her husband is 
 pastor, but wherever she has made acquaintance. 
 A lady of rare sweetness and gentleness of charac- 
 ter, she had greatly endeared herself to her people, 
 both old and young. To her husband we tender 
 our sympathy in this hour of his trouble. The 
 funeral services will be held at the parsonage, No. 
 664 Case avenue, Thursday, at 11 o’clock A. M. 
 Mr. Blake will start in the afternoon with her re- 
 mains for Pepperell, Mass., her old home, where 
 the burial will take place next Saturday. 
 
 
 
 From the Cleveland Herald, Friday morning, 
 August 1: 
 
 DUST TO DUST.—FUNERAL SERVICES OVER THE 
 REMAINS OF THE LATE MRS. BLAKE. 
 
 The funeral services of the late Mrs. Isabel L. 
 Blake, wife of the Rev. S. L. Blake, pastor of the 
 Woodland Avenue Presbyterian Church, were held 
 at the family residence, No. 664 Case avenue, on 
 Thursday. From necessity the exercises occurred 
 at 11 o’clock in the morning, as the remains were 
 to be interred at Pepperell, Mass., the old home of 
 the deceased, and it was needful that they be sent 
 on the afternoon train. The remains were accom- 
 panied by Mr. Blake and two elders of the church, 
 Messrs. H. M. James and J. A. Seaton. The ser- 
 vices were conducted by the Rev. J. E. Twitchell, 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 What Others Said of Fer. 85 
 
 assisted by the Revs. J. M. Mills, Anson Smythe, | 
 and H. R. Hoisington. The singing was led by 
 Mr. Alfred Arthur, who was assisted by Misses T. 
 Fuller and S. Seelye, Mrs. B.S. Barrett, S. Rogers, 
 Miss J. Whittemore, and Messrs. N. D. Pratt, D. 
 E. Wright, and F. M. Sanderson. After singing, 
 and a short prayer by Rev. Mr. Mills, the Rev. Mr. 
 Twitchell read a few passages of scripture appro- 
 priate to the occasion, and spoke at some length. 
 He was followed in prayer by the Rev. Anson 
 Smythe, after which the choir again sang, and the 
 benediction was pronounced by the Rev. H. R. 
 Hoisington. At the+conclusion of the services 
 all were given an opportunity to view the remains, 
 which had been placed in an elegant metallic cas- 
 ket. The flowers that had been provided for the 
 occasion were profuse and elegant, two designs 
 having been presented by the church and Sabbath- 
 school. The pall-bearers were J. A. Seaton, H.- 
 M. James, J. T. Sencebaugh, John Buchan, William 
 Taylor, and J. J. Davis. 
 
 ‘Mrs. Blake’s death was quite unexpected, she 
 having been seriously ill but a few days; in fact, 
 she was not considered in danger until the day be- 
 
 _ fore her death. She made many friends while here, 
 
 who feel her loss keenly. 
 
 
 
 From Zhe Congregationalist (Boston, Mass.) 
 of August 6: 
 
 The many friends of Rev. S. L. Blake, pastor 
 of the Woodland Avenue Presbyterian Church in 
 Cleveland, will regret to learn of the death of his 
 wife, who by her sweetness and gentleness of char- 
 acter had greatly endeared herself to her people, 
 
 7 
 
86 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 and to a large circle of friends outside his church. 
 After the funeral services at Mr. Blake’s residence, 
 July 31, the body was taken east, to Pepperell, 
 Mass., Mrs. Blake’s former home, where it was 
 interred August 2. 
 
 —_—_— 
 
 Letter of Rev. Anson Smythe, p. p., in the V. 
 Y. Evangelist of August 7: 
 
 This afternoon my dear brother Blake will leave 
 on his vacation, accompanied by a committee of 
 his church, bearing with thém the remains of Mrs. 
 Blake, who yesterday passed into the heavens. 
 
 Mrs. Blake was a native of Pepperell, Mass., 
 where her husband had his first settlement in the 
 ministry. Less than two years ago Mr. Blake 
 was called from Concord, N. H., to take charge of 
 our Woodland Avenue Church, in which position 
 his labors have been remarkably blessed. Mrs. 
 Blake very soon secured the confidence and affec- 
 tion of all whose acquaintance she made. She 
 was a lady of rare natural gifts and high culture. 
 To an unusually pleasing presence, to social quali- 
 
 ties which rendered her society attractive, and to . 
 
 a mind thoroughly disciplined, she added deep 
 consecration of heart to the service of the Master. 
 It seemed to us that she could not be spared from 
 her walks in life; but God’s thoughts were not like 
 ours, and at the age of thirty-two years she left us 
 for the better land. Her funeral services were 
 attended this morning, and were conducted by the 
 Rev. Dr. Twitchell, assisted by your correspondent. 
 A multitude of people manifested a sense of deep 
 personal loss, and while life remains not one of us 
 
 
 
 % 
 | 
 

 
 What Others Said of Her. 87 
 
 all will forget the beautiful and saintly lady that 
 
 the Lord gave and has taken from us. 
 
 The sympathies of thousands will follow Mr. 
 Blake during the weeks of his absence, and when 
 
 - he shall return we shall not cease to remember his 
 - bereavement, for we are all bereaved. 
 
 
 
 From the Boston (Mass.) Dazly Fournal: 
 
 The death of Mrs. Isabel Lawrence Blake, a 
 lovely and excellent woman, caused the deepest 
 sorrow to the hearts of all who knew her. She 
 was the wife of Rev. S. L. Blake, who was for 
 several years pastor of the South Church in Con- 
 cord, N. H., but is now located in Cleveland, Ohio. 
 Mrs. Blake was eminently fitted by nature and by 
 goodness for her place in life, and with intellectual 
 ability she united the purest and most beautiful 
 graces of Christian character. Before marriage 
 she was Miss Lawrence, of Pepperell, Mass., 
 where her remains were taken for burial. Though 
 death has claimed her, yet the fragrance of her 
 pure life will long linger in the hearts of all who 
 had been associated with her. 
 
 
 
 From the Concord (N. H.) Dazly Monitor of 
 Monday, August 4: ; 
 
 DEATH OF MRS. S. L. BLAKE. 
 
 The blow that fell upon this: community on 
 Wednesday, July 30, on learning of the sudden 
 death of Mrs. Isabel Lawrence Blake, at Cleve- 
 land, Ohio, was one of great severity to all who 
 knew and loved her, and from which they will not 
 soon recover. During the six years of her life 
 
88 Annals of a Beautiful Life. | 
 
 which were passed in this city, she won her way 
 
 into every heart by her unvarying gentleness ; and 
 
 she has left behind her the tenderest of memories, 
 unmixed with anything which can cause pain, ex- 
 
 cept the shadow which comes over us as we realize — 
 
 that we shall see her face no more till we “ meet 
 beyond the river,” where partings are unknown. 
 She was eminently fitted by nature and by grace 
 for her place in life, and in her were united 
 strength of mind, with sweetness, rare intellectual 
 
 culture, and an earnest Christian character. The ~ 
 longest lives are not always measured by the great- | 
 
 est number of years; and though so early called, 
 
 though her friends would so gladly have detained 
 her here, yet her work was finished, and she was 
 
 needed in the heavenly home. 
 
 Services were held on Thursday morning at her 
 late residence in Cleveland, conducted by Rev. Dr. . 
 Twitchell, at which friends filled the house to — 
 
 overflowing, and loving tribute was paid to her 
 memory. ‘The loved remains were then taken to 
 her former home in Pepperell, Mass., where friends 
 from far and near were gathered, not to welcome 
 her, as they had fondly hoped, but to mourn her 
 early death, and bear her to the portals of the Si- 
 lent Land. The services were brief and interest- 
 ing, conducted by the pastor of the church in Pep- 
 perell. Suitable remarks were added by an officer 
 of the church in Cleveland, and a member of the 
 South Church in this city. Many friends from 
 Concord were present with tributes of flowers, 
 and nothing was omitted which could impart com- 
 fort on so mournful an occasion. The fragrance 
 of such a life will remain, and its memory be 
 measured only by eternity. 
 
 
 
 
 
 L 
 ‘ 
 Lf sa 
 a. 
 1 
 ha 
 aA 
 * 
 

 
 What Others Satd of Her. 89 
 
 From the Herald Presbyter (Cincinnati, O.) 
 of September 24: 
 
 We regret to learn that Rev. S. L. Blake, pastor 
 of the Woodland Avenue Presbyterian Church, 
 Cleveland, Ohio, suffered the loss of his wife during 
 the last week of July. She was a woman of rare 
 qualities, having been converted at the age of four- 
 teen years, and grew up developing a beautiful 
 Christian character; and although she had been 
 in Cleveland but a brief period, she was beloved 
 by all, and will be greatly missed in the church. 
 
 
 
 At the meeting of the pastors of Cleveland, held 
 in the chapel of the Y. M. C. A., on Monday morn- 
 ing, September 15, 1879, the following preamble 
 and resolutions, presented by Rev. Anson Smythe, 
 D. D.,and seconded by the Rev. James R. Mills, 
 D. D., Were unanimously adopted : 
 
 Whereas, since our last meeting, it has pleased 
 God to take to her heavenly home the beloved wife 
 of our dear brother, Rev. S. Leroy Blake, pastor of 
 the Woodland Avenue Presbyterian Church,— 
 
 resolved, ‘That we lament her early death, and 
 shall bear in lasting memory her high and beauti- 
 ful qualities as a Christian woman, and the dignity, 
 grace, and fidelity with which she discharged the 
 appropriate duties of a pastor’s wife. 
 
 ftesolved, That we assure our bereaved Brother 
 Blake of our condolence and sympathy in his deep 
 affliction, and we pledge him our prayers that God 
 may sustain him in this time of sorrow, and cause 
 
90 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 his great loss to contribute to his spiritual welfare 
 and ministerial usefulness. 
 
 O. D. Patcu, Moderator. 
 O. D. FisHEer, Secretary. 
 
 2.—WHAT FRIENDS SAID OF HER IN LETTERS OF COM- 
 FORT AND CONDOLENCE, WHICH WERE RECEIVED AFTER 
 HER DEATH. 
 
 It is fitting that they should speak first who 
 knew her longest as a pastor’s wife. The following 
 letters and extracts from letters from friends in 
 Concord only voice the universal feeling of regard 
 for her, and the deep sorrow which the news of 
 ‘ her death caused. This feeling was not confined 
 to those who were her church friends, but all who 
 knew her shared it, without respect to creed or 
 station. Even those who might naturally be sup- 
 posed to be least affected, expressed their sorrow 
 in the most emphatic and sympathizing way. Said 
 a lady, If I could be remembered as Mrs. Blake is, 
 I should be satisfied. 
 
 Concorp, N. H., July 31, 1879. 
 
 Dear Mr. Blake :—Your telegram, which came 
 to hand at 125 p.m. yesterday, has caused a shock 
 to this whole city that no such news has ever cre- 
 ated before. It seemed to me, as I read the message 
 over and over again, that there wzwst de some mis- 
 take; and as I went out to carry the sad news to 
 some that loved the dear woman as their own 
 selves, I seemed to be in a sort of maze. 
 
 But, my dear sir, I dare not write to you a single 
 
 
 

 
 What Others Said of Fer. Ol 
 
 word: no one can describe the sympathy which 
 is expressed for yourself, nor the sorrow which is 
 in every heart. It seems as though all had lost 
 their dearest friend. For myself and family, no 
 one outside was dearer. 
 
 As you are aware, Mrs. H. and myself know 
 something of sudden bereavement, but zothzng of 
 yours. We have only to remind you that the 
 beloved Master once prayed that the bitter cup, 
 which He was called to partake, might pass from 
 Him. But he said, ‘‘ Nevertheless not my will, but 
 Thine, be done.” And then we are told that angels 
 came and ministered unto Him; and I know that 
 
 none but the loving Father’s messengers can min- 
 
 ister to you. 
 Yours, with all my heart’s sympathy, 
 Cc. W. H. 
 The above is from the family with whom we 
 made our first home in Concord, on beginning our 
 married life there. Following are letters and ex- 
 tracts from letters from a few of the young ladies, 
 which speak the universal testimony. If here were 
 to be added extracts from letters received in her 
 lifetime from the same writers, and many more, 
 a deeper meaning would be given to their ex- 
 pressions of the sorrow which her death caused. 
 
 Concorp, N. H., Aug. 1, 1879. 
 My Dear Mr. Blake:—\ can’t find words to 
 
 express my feelings for you, in this your great 
 trouble. It seems alla dream to me. I can’t rea- 
 lize anything about it. It runs through my mind 
 all the time,—‘‘ She was ready, she. was ready.” 
 
92 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 It is a great sorrow to me not to be able to see her 
 dear face once more here on earth; but my friends 
 have convinced me that itis not right for me to go 
 to Pepperell at this time. Be sure my thoughts 
 will be with you all the day long, and I pray God 
 will give you the comfort no earthly friend can. 
 Your friend,’ 
 L. W. M. 
 
 This is the lady of whom another wrote to Isa- 
 
 bel, soon after our leaving Concord,—* It is harder — 
 
 for L M to. be reconciled than any one I 
 know of. Itis only since you went away that I 
 have realized how much she saw you, and depend- 
 ed on you for enjoyment every day.” 
 
 The following is from one of the family in which 
 I found a home before she came to be part of my 
 life : 
 
 
 
 
 
 Concorp, N. H., Aug. 2, 1879. 
 
 My Dear Mr. Blake :—Never were we more 
 saddened at the death of any one outside our own 
 family circle than at the death of your own dear 
 wife ; and she seemed like one of us, so dear was 
 she to us all. 
 
 I could scarcely believe Dea. H.’s words when 
 he called at the door the other day and told me of 
 her death, and I can scarcely realize that she, 
 whom I, and all of us, loved so much, is no more. 
 * *  * You can scarcely conceive of the sym- 
 pathy that has been going out towards you from 
 your old people here, and from many that were 
 not of them. In prayer-meeting, last evening, Mr. 
 S. had charge, and read that chapter on fruit- 
 
 
 

 
 What Others Satd of Her. 93 
 
 _ bearing, alluding to the verse, “So shall ye be my 
 
 disciples.” That is, fruit-bearing is an evidence of 
 discipleship. And then, with deepest feeling, he 
 alluded to the lovely life of Mrs. Blake, as one so 
 fruithful of loving deeds and words, and, in its 
 sweetness and humility, such an evidence of that 
 true spirit of piety which Christ would have us all 
 cultivate, if we would be really and truly His. As 
 he spoke, the hearts of all were stirred, and many 
 were the tears that fell, as the thought of her, who 
 was once of us, came back to us so cles 
 With deepest sympathy, 
 Lin ViLPe 
 
 Another of this circle of young ladies wrote,— 
 «It is a privilege to have been one of her friends. 
 Iam sure I feel like joining in your prayers that 
 her sweet influence may not be lost upon us. 
 Heaven does seem nearer as those that we love 
 are gathered there.” A week later, the same pen 
 wrote,—“ I always loved her from the first moment 
 I saw her. I do not believe there is any one out- 
 side her own family who feels her death as much as 
 I do.” This young lady was with us during part 
 of those last weeks. 
 
 The following, from still another, like the rest, 
 tells its own tale of sorrow and love: 
 
 ConcorD, Aug. 19, 1879. 
 My Dear Mr. Blake:—Al\ this past week, 
 since I came from the country, I have felt that I 
 must write just.a few words to you, and yet I have 
 hesitated to break in upon your sorrow, even by a 
 
94 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 letter of sympathy. If*you could know all the 
 tender things people here have said and thought of 
 you, I am sure it would be as comforting to you as 
 any earthly consolation could be. My heart is so 
 full of dear Mrs. Blake, that when I try to make 
 any expression of it, words seem utterly to fail me. 
 But I thank God many times every day that I have 
 the blessing of her precious memory. She was so 
 gracious and winning in all her ways, so sympa- 
 thetic and lovable, that she was and is an inspira- 
 tion to me. I shall never forget the one happy, 
 quiet day that I spent with her four years ago, in 
 her own home; and I have been thinking a great 
 deal, in these past three weeks, how, in all your 
 grief at having her away from you, you must re- 
 joice in the blessed eight years you were allowed 
 to spend together. 
 
 She wrote me the sweetest, kindest letter last 
 winter,* and now I feel that I have a little of her- 
 self that is all my oy and it is a very dear pos- 
 session. * ni 
 
 It is very easy for me to conceive of dear Mrs. 
 Blake as at home in heaven, she seemed so fitted 
 ‘for an abundant entrance there while she was with 
 us; and I can hardly think what there was of the 
 earthly about her that would have to be put off. 
 A hundred times I am sure I must have said, 
 that she was, to me, the nearest to perfection of 
 any woman I ever knew. But I must not go on 
 with the many things that are continually in my 
 thought of her. 
 
 I am sure you know that you have our most 
 earnest prayers that you may be sustained by the 
 
 ——— 
 
 
 
 * See page 41. 
 
 
 

 
 What Others Said of Her. 95 
 
 only power that can sustain, and that when flesh 
 and blood cry out for flesh and blood, you may re- 
 ceive only the greater spiritual blessing. * * 
 With warmest sympathy and love from both 
 A and myself, I am 
 Your sincere friend, 
 
 
 
 My Paew. 
 
 The following letter was from a lady who, as 
 the letter intimates, was herself on a bed of sick- 
 ness, and looking forward to the time as possibly 
 not far off when she, too, would be called home: 
 
 ConcorpD, Aug. 2, 1879. 
 
 Dear Mr. Blake :—Lying here upon my couch, 
 hardly able to walk across my room alone, my 
 heart aches for you in your great, deep sorrow, 
 which is a sorrow to us all. The tears will not be 
 repressed, and my eyes are dim with them as I 
 write, when I think I shall never see dear Mrs. 
 Blake again upon earth. I think, though, it may 
 not be long before I shall meet her ‘‘ just across the 
 river.” I always thought her like a lily, grown 
 up tall and slender, and crowned with a bloom of 
 purity and sweetness. I was just speaking to a 
 friend of her loveliness, when the sad, sad tidings 
 of her death came to me. I was grief-stricken, | 
 and thought it must be a mistake — that it could 
 not be so. 
 
 God never makes mistakes, and what seems a 
 mysterious providence to us must be right, because 
 He has done it. Now she blooms in the garden 
 above; now she is more than ever angelic. 
 
 ‘* None knew her but to love her, 
 None named her but to praise.” 
 
96 ‘Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 I shall never forget her sweet face, and her pleas- 
 ant smile, and her gentleness. I shall gaze often 
 at her picture, and I hope that before I depart to 
 go hence and be here no more forever, I may grow 
 to be more and more like her in Christian life and 
 charactegr iin, ae 
 
 Your sympathizing and sincere friend, 
 S. W. S. 
 
 One of the young men writes,—‘* The news 
 throws a gloom over hosts of friends, who had > 
 learned to love and admire Mrs. Blake’s rare qual- 
 ities of character ;—a true Christian, everybody's 
 friend.” 
 
 The following letter is from Mrs. B. P. Stone, 
 whose husband was for a long time one of the 
 prominent clergymen of New Hampshire, and who 
 was himself also, on his mother’s side, a descend- 
 ant of the family of John Lawrence. The prayer- 
 meeting alluded to was the Ladies’ prayer-meeting, 
 at which Isabel was usually present, and which 
 she often led. Mrs. Stone writes, under date of 
 August 1, 1879,— 
 
 Dear Str: I shall not attempt to assuage your 
 grief under the heavy affliction. The heart must 
 bleed. ‘‘ Jesus wept. 1b Bata pleasant memory of 
 your dear wife came to me very soon. At one of 
 the little prayer-meetings at my house, the subject 
 under consideration was the necessity of affliction, 
 and how surely our Heavenly Father will send the 
 needed discipline. We were all so much older 
 than Mrs. Blake, that I presume our views were 
 somewhat more sombre than hers. She was deeply 
 
 
 

 
 What Others Said of Her 97 
 
 interested, even to tears; and she asked, ‘“‘ Why 
 should not the goodness of God lead us to the at- 
 tainment of right character without the need of 
 severity?’ We comforted her at once, and told © 
 her that in her case at least, for years very likely, 
 she might be led by the gentle hand of the Savior 
 ‘into green pastures and beside the still waters.” 
 And now it is so clear that her discipline is all 
 over.’ Very gently has she been led her life long ; 
 and now in the heavenly mansions she will work 
 and wait till you come. 
 
 I had a beautiful little dream about her. I 
 thought she had been sick, nigh unto death. I 
 called to see her, not knowing that I could, but she 
 signified that she would like to see me. As I en- 
 tered the room, she put out her hand, and gave me 
 so sweet a smile, that it lingers in my memory yet. 
 And I doubt not that in the bright hereafter I shall 
 realize more that the dream. Oh! the dead are 
 alive and happy, and very full of the sweet service 
 of the Redeemer. 
 
 May the dear Lord sustain you. 
 
 Rey. F. D. Ayer, of the North Church in Con- 
 cord, wrote,— 
 
 There were very few who held a deeper, quieter 
 love for your dear wife than did the true heart 
 that still brightens my home. M so often 
 used to say, ‘‘O that I could see Mrs. Blake for 
 a while!” and we had talked, and tried to plan 
 so that should you be at Concord we might be at 
 home. ‘There were few of her own kin whom 
 M oftener spoke of than of Mrs. Blake. * * 
 You know how the children loved her, whom all 
 loved who knew her. How many there are to 
 
 
 
 
 
98 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 whom the tidings were sad indeed. But, dear 
 brother, how much heavier the blow to the home 
 whose light has gone out, and in which the hope 
 of years to come is crushed! Be assured, in the 
 love of many hearts you have also the prayers of 
 hundreds united, that the faith fail not, and that 
 the eye be clear to look beyond the clouds. How 
 strange these broken plans, these half finished (as 
 it seems to us) lives! We shall see the other side 
 by and by, and my prayer shall be that you and all 
 of us may live the more under that thought, and 
 that, though sad and in sorrow, we may yet be in 
 precious hope and anticipation. 
 
 These letters show how hard it was, for those 
 
 who had known and loved her in Concord, to give 
 her up; how they dwelt upon her memory and 
 cherished thoughts of her; how constantly her 
 name was upon their tongues, as a dear household 
 
 word; how they waited almost impatiently, and | 
 
 looked forward eagerly, for the time when they 
 might possibly have a brief space in which to en- 
 joy her sweet presence. ‘They depended on seeing 
 her in Concord every summer, and got a willing 
 promise from her that she would gratify their wish. 
 I believe the people in Concord would almost 
 have laid down their lives for her, they loved her 
 so much. It cannot be wondered that she was 
 _ happy in such love, and that it cost her a great 
 struggle to break away from it. . 
 
 Rev. J. F. Lovering, who was pastor of the 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 What Others Said of Her. 99 
 
 Unitarian Church in Concord during a portion of 
 our life there, writes from Watertown, Mass. : 
 
 My Dear Mr. Blake :—WLast Friday I received 
 a copy of the Concord (N. H.) Statesman, in 
 which reference was made to the sad bereavement 
 which has befallen you under God’s providence. 
 * * j%* I beg you will let me send just a few | 
 lines, simply to tell you how much I sympathize 
 with you in your sorrow. 
 
 I recall so vividly the sweet womanliness and 
 graceful courtesy of your wife. I remember her 
 ready sympathy with those who came into ordi- 
 _nary social contact with her. I remember how 
 eager she was to be your helpmate indeed, not in 
 the beautiful and blooming home-life you enjoyed, 
 but in your church relations. I remember so 
 many trivial instances of your careful considera- 
 tion for her,—so trivial that you have forgot them, 
 but which indicated so much to others,—that I can 
 somewhat understand how heavy your affliction 
 EG Wc SM al 
 
 The Lord bless you. The Lord lift upon you 
 the light of His countenance. The Lord be with 
 you day and night, with the love that passeth all 
 understanding. 
 
 A little later, the same brother wrote,— 
 
 Do you remember delivering a lecture in Eagle 
 hall, at Concord, on Hugh Miller? At the close 
 of your lecture I met your wife for the first time. 
 There was sunshine in her smile. The glow of it 
 has lasted all through the years since; and as I 
 thought of you in your sorrow, and tried to under- 
 stand in some poor way how great your loss must 
 
100 Annals of a Beautiful Life, 
 
 _ be, I recalled that evening, and saw again the face — 
 that has smiled into your life wie such sweet and » 
 
 tender love. 
 
 The next letter is from a lady who was once a 
 member of the South Church in Concord, whose _ 
 
 ‘life was suddenly made desolate by the death of a 
 fond and devoted husband, and to whom Isabel en- 
 deared herself very much by her sweet sympathy. 
 
 Newton, Mass., Sept. 14, 1879. 
 
 My Kind Pastor: —'The sad news has just . 
 
 reached me, and I am shocked—too much so to | } 
 
 write you anything that can comfort you in such . 
 
 loneliness. Such a sweet, pure, and gentle life has 
 
 left behind it so many that mourn with you, who was . 
 
 her dearest and loving companion. Your grief is 
 too sacred to be intruded upon, but I want to send 
 
 you the sympathy that comes from a heart wound- - 
 
 ed as yours has been, while I mourn for her who 
 was so tender and kind to me in the years of per- 
 fect desolation. Can it be I shall never see her 
 
 beautiful face again, and the last word of advice . 
 
 from her sweet lips has been said to me? 
 
 She promised last year she would visit me this, 
 and it was but lately I wondered how soon her 
 letter would reach me, telling me when to look for 
 her. But no. The happy drive last year was the 
 last sweet time, with your beautiful wife, for me. 
 I hope some time to meet her in God’s beautiful 
 home above, where she is a lovely angel. Are 
 they all as pure? * 4 
 
 Would that this could comfort you; but Words 
 

 
 What Others Said of Her. IOI 
 
 are useless at such a time. My tears mingle with 
 these words, and I cazzot realize zt. 
 Accept much sympathy from your friend, 
 A. Ba W. 
 
 The following letters from friends in Cleveland 
 show how deep a hold she had got upon the hearts 
 of the people during her brief, unselfish life in their 
 midst. A young lady writes,— 
 
 I do not know how to express my sympathy for 
 you in your loss, for I cannot understand what it 
 would be to lose such an earthly and dear friend ; 
 but I wanted you to know how much I loved her. 
 
 Another writes,— 
 
 Her death was a shock to the church and whole 
 community. All loved her for her gentleness, and 
 for her pure, lovely, Christian character. We shall 
 ever remember her many virtues, and never cease 
 to emulate her noble example. 
 
 Still another writes,— 
 
 Your wife had won a warm place in the hearts 
 of the people here by her beautiful character. She 
 was one among a thousand. Rarely have I met 
 one who was in every way so qualified in head 
 and heart for the place she so well filled. We all 
 mourn with you. We feel as if we had all suffered 
 a great loss. 
 
 Another pays this tribute to her worthy memory : 
 
 A great many people here sympathize with you 
 in the loss of Mrs. Blake. I have never seen Mrs. 
 J mourn so sincerely before. We talk of her 
 
 8 
 
 
 
102 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 more than anything else. I did not know how 
 much we all loved her. And we are not alone. 
 It is the common theme in the church, and the sor- 
 row is deep and genuine. 
 
 At another time the same writes,— 
 
 All express so much sorrow for what, far more 
 than I expected, is regarded as our common loss, 
 
 As showing that her life and death have already 
 borne fruit here, the same person writes,— 
 
 OnureG , in her reserved way, has been pon- 
 dering for a long time, I find, the question of her 
 duty in the matter of presenting herself to the 
 session. She has somehow associated Mrs. Blake’s 
 death with her duty, and of her own accord has 
 introduced the subject to her mother and me. 
 
 
 
 The same writes in the Woodland Recorder, of 
 December 13,—a paper published by the Wood- 
 
 land Avenue Church,— 
 
 No event in the history of the Woodland Avenue 
 Church has ever called out so tender a sorrow as 
 the death of this beloved woman. She had not 
 lived long in our midst, and her health was such 
 that she had not made a wide acquaintance; but 
 we shall not soon forget what a gloom overspread 
 the entire community on that July morning, when 
 the sad tidings were announced that her spirit had 
 passed away. Not only those who had come to 
 know her intimately, but those who were only 
 slightly acquainted with her, even outside of our 
 own congregation, seemed to feel that to some ex- 
 tent this was their own personal loss. 
 
 
 

 
 What Others Said of Her. 103 
 
 Mrs. Blake was, indeed, a woman of rare excel- 
 lence of mind and character. The keenness of 
 her insight, the accuracy of her judgment, and the 
 delicacy of her appreciation, were of rare quality ; 
 but in sweetness and gentleness of soul, sympathy 
 with those in trouble, and in piety that knew no 
 limit in its devotion, her equal is seldom seen. 
 Her faculty for making friends was truly wonder- 
 ful. In Concord, as in Cleveland, as well as in her 
 early home in Pepperell, her friends were always 
 far more numerous than her acquaintances. Every- 
 body loved her; and no wonder, for she loved 
 everybody. At her death three parishes were in 
 mourning. Though a person of strong and decided 
 convictions, she was so charitable and considerate 
 of others that she was never known to censure any 
 one. Even when she felt that her dearest interests 
 had been violated (and such an organization as 
 hers could feek an injustice most keenly), through 
 her tears she never failed to offer an excuse ora 
 word of apology for those who had caused her 
 pain. 
 
 To her the religion of Jesus Christ was all in all. 
 To very few persons are spiritual things so much 
 a reality as they were to her. Her Savior was as 
 much a real presence as were her earthly friends ; 
 heaven as much a real existence as her Concord 
 home; and she looked forward to the future life as 
 she did to any other event, the realization of which 
 might come verysoon. One of her favorite hymns 
 was that beginning,— 
 
 ‘**] know not the hour when my Lord shall come 
 To take me away to His own dear home; 
 But I know that His presence will lighten the gloom, 
 And that will be glory for me.” 
 
104 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 To any who ever heard her sing this hymn with so 
 much feeling, it must always seem especially sa- 
 cred. It expressed her sincerest thought. 
 
 Aside from the trial of parting from friends, 
 death had no terror to her; indeed, she looked for- 
 ward to it as a joyful occasion. Her departure 
 was as serene and beautiful as her life. In her last 
 moments she seemed to have a glimpse of the glo- 
 ries of the other side. After an interval of seem- 
 ingly partial unconsciousness, her countenance 
 lighted up as with an ineffable joy, as she whis- 
 pered,—“ Oh, beautiful! beautiful!” With these 
 words she passed into the beautiful city, into the 
 company of the heavenly choir of redeemed ones 
 that sing around the throne, into the presence of 
 that dear Lord whom she knew and loved so well. 
 
 Mrs. Blake’s life was not a long one, if we count 
 by years; but few lives have accomplished more. 
 Her death is unquestionably the gfeatest loss this 
 church has ever had to mourn. Her influence can 
 never be lost, and her memory will be cherished 
 among us as long as any of us shall live. 
 
 Another writes,— 
 
 The blessed promises of Him who gave, and 
 has taken away, are all yours, together with the 
 
 assurance, He doeth all things well, and that what 
 
 you know not now, you shall know hereafter. 
 You shall know why the dear face you loved so 
 well has faded from mortal vision, why the gentle 
 voice is hushed, and the kind hands are folded in 
 
 unbroken rest. Even in the darkness which now 
 
 overshadows you, you will discern that life has 
 other kinds of completeness besides length of days, 
 and that there are lives. so rounded and crowned 
 

 
 
 
 What Others Said of Her. 105 
 
 by their completed deeds of love, that death seems 
 to have appeared in the fulness of their prime, 
 only to consecrate them forever. 
 
 When we were travelling in 1876, we had letters 
 of introduction to a Liverpool merchant, who in- 
 vited us to dine with himself and family, and who 
 showed us such true hospitality that Isabel never 
 ceased to speak of it. That English family made 
 a lasting and delightful impression upon her. The 
 gentleman, writing to one of the Se Uy after her 
 death, says,— | 
 
 I so well remember Mrs. Blake, and although 
 she and her husband spent but a few hours at our 
 home, she left a very marked impression upon us 
 all, and my wife has often spoken of the visit of 
 “that most delightful American lady.” Iam sure 
 that by those Who knew her she must have been 
 very dearly loved.” 
 
 Who, after all, is better competent to speak of 
 her than one who knew her all her life? So I add 
 here the words of the oldest sister: ‘I love to 
 think of her. Her life is a big history to me. I 
 - am trying to study it to make my own better. She 
 was so loving, so gentle, so good. I never did 
 hear any one spoken of so much, every one ex- 
 pressing the same beautiful things about her. We 
 know it all. But best of all, she was such a true, 
 faithful Christian.” Another of the sisters writes,— 
 ‘Tt seems as if she grew nearer and dearer to me 
 each day.” Another of them writes,—‘‘It seems 
 
106 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 so strange to think that dear Isabel is to be with us 
 no more. I trust the spirit of meekness and gentle- 
 -ness which she always manifested will descend 
 upon us. Her memory will always be sweet and 
 precious.” 
 
 The only other letter I will add is from Prof. 
 Mead, of Oberlin, written from Andover, Mass., 
 August 9, 1879: 
 
 My Dear L.:—I cannot tell you how much we 
 were shocked and saddened by the intelligence in 
 this week’s Congregationalist. I cannot say a 
 word that will help you bear this heavy burden, 
 but I must assure you of my deep sympathy, and 
 must speak my very high appreciation and admira- 
 tion of your beautiful wife, even though the more 
 you are reminded of this, the more are you made 
 to feel the irreparable loss which you sustain in 
 parting with her. ‘There was in her such delicacy 
 of feeling, such purity and loftiness of motive, such 
 sweetness combined with courage, such affection- 
 ateness combined with force of will! It seemed to 
 us that you had in her just such a wife as you 
 wanted, and that she was to you the greatest bless- 
 ing God could grant. No doubt such she has been, 
 and in the memory of the years of blessed compan- 
 ionship, such‘she will still be. God comfort you, 
 dear L ,in your loneliness! This is all I can 
 say! My wife joins in tenderest sympathy, and 
 mourns the loss of one whom she valued as one 
 of her best friends. 
 
 Ever yours faithfully, 
 
 
 
 H. MEAp. 
 

 
 What Others Said of Fer. 107 
 
 If all that has been said to me in praise of her 
 lovely character could be added, the testimony to 
 her worth, from every quarter, would swell to a 
 volume. It does not seem that more could be said 
 of a woman than has been said of her, and it does 
 not seem that a death could create a wider ora 
 profounder impression. The spontaneity of all 
 this testimony gives it peculiar force. It is simply 
 the outgushing of hearts which speak what they | 
 feel, and because they feel. The secret of it all is 
 found in her unaffected purity of soul, her integrity 
 of purpose, and her self-forgetful sympathy. Surely 
 the testimony of these notices and of these letters 
 must relieve the husband and friends of all partial- 
 ity in their estimate of her loveliness. For if there - 
 is any extravagance of language, it is to be found 
 in these expressions of love from those who were 
 bound to her only by ties of unfeigned admiration 
 for her sterling qualities of mind and heart. 
 
IX. 
 
 CONCLUSION.’ 
 
 This is the simple story of her life. It is like a 
 sweet song singing itself. As another said, who 
 wrote a like memorial,—‘* Often have I turned 
 aside from my work to brush away the falling 
 tears, and to calm the feelings that have choked 
 my utterance even with the pen.” Our sore hearts 
 have often asked, Why was this? Why could she 
 not have been spared to the life of usefulness which 
 seemed to stretch invitingly before her?—to her 
 friends, who seemed to need her so much, and who 
 loved her so fondly? Why were the hands, which 
 would have kept her here a little longer, so bereft 
 of all power? I have ceased to ask such questions, 
 for no answer comes back. Bryant wrote,— 
 
 ‘¢ Loveliest of lovely things are they 
 On earth that soonest pass away. 
 The rose that lives its little hour 
 Is prized beyond the sculptured flower.” 
 
 Another poet wrote,— 
 
 ‘¢ Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow.” 
 
 ie iBy 
 

 
 
 
 Conclusion. 109 
 
 Certainly this mark was shining, and the blow was 
 signal. But still the unanswered question, Why? 
 
 One of the most fathomless mysteries is the mys- 
 tery of sorrow. Buds of promise are plucked, and 
 blighted fruit is left to hang uselessly on withered 
 branches. We cannot understand this way of 
 doing. Only a faith which can say, ‘‘ Though He 
 slay me, yet will I trust Him,” can wait to know 
 God’s reasons. Doubtless in this, as in all else, 
 His ways are not as our ways. Doubtless such 
 sorrow, as Charles Kingsley said, when waiting on 
 what proved to be his own dying bed, for the daily 
 expected death of his wife,—‘‘It must be right; 
 for it is so strange, and yet so painful.” Doubtless, 
 as Prof. Phelps, of Andover, says,—‘* The very 
 mysteriousness of inexplicable trial is a token of 
 the Divine wisdom from which it comes. No 
 other mind could contrive trial so profound.” But, 
 admitting all this, we come back at last to our 
 starting-point without answer to our question. 
 God sometimes seems prodigal of the lives he has 
 trained for best service, and to act on an unequal 
 principle. 
 
 But there may be another side for us. It is not 
 improbable that, at thirty, some have done more 
 than others who live to three-score years and ten. 
 So their work is sooner done, and they are sooner 
 ready to be called in from the toilsome fields. Pos- 
 sibly those who die early are the best scholars in 
 
 9 
 
110 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 Divine grace, and are soonest ready for promotion. 
 The history of Christian experience is not without 
 what may be called precociousness of character. 
 We have seen young Christians who had the zeal 
 and consecration of age. McCheyne did not live 
 to be an old man. Yet few who reach three-score 
 years and ten do as much for the Master as did 
 this eloquent preacher, who was cut off in mid- 
 summer. Frederick W. Robertson died at the 
 early age of thirty-six. The ten short years of his 
 ministry were packed with results. No public life 
 was ever shorter than Christ’s; no public life was 
 ever fuller of results. 
 
 The whole secret of what we call prematureness 
 of Christian character, is simply intense consecra- 
 tion. We measure life by years; but this does not 
 tell half the truth. The true measurement of life 
 is results. Isabel had but eight years of public 
 womanhood. But somehow she has left a stamp 
 which time will not erase. The years of her life 
 were fruitful for eternity. 
 
 It may be that some die early, Beceueh they need 
 less discipline than others to fit them for the great 
 change. They may have been faithful over the 
 few things committed to their charge, and were 
 sooner ready than the rest of us to enter into the 
 joy of their Lord. I do not mean that they had 
 less capacity to do, but that for some reason God 
 did not see it necessary to put so much upon them. 
 

 
 Conclusion. III 
 
 Delicate} sensitive natures do not need the rough- 
 and-tumble of life to develop their Christian 
 graces. ‘They become sanctified without. And so 
 He who would not break the bruised reed, nor 
 quench the smoking: en spares them such severe 
 discipline. 
 
 It may also be true, that those who are called 
 early to come up higher develop some striking fit- 
 ness for work which God may require to have done 
 in His kingdom above. He may have some special 
 service waiting for them. So it may be that a life 
 ~which seemed cut short in its usefulness is work- © 
 ing on in a sphere of whose importance we may 
 have noconception. The time, talents, energies, 
 preparation, which seem wasted, may not have 
 been intended, in God’s plan, for long service in 
 this scene of conflicts. He may have meant all 
 the time, by this disciplinary training, some em- 
 ployment in the other world. So what may seem 
 to us a prodigal waste, is but utilizing the forces 
 He had been preparing. 
 
 The view of the Bible is, that God honors those 
 whom He calls to help swell the throng around the 
 throne. Although the flesh bleeds when it is 
 wounded, and the sorrow-riven heart cannot keep 
 back its anguish, yet if we could see as God sees, 
 I have no doubt we should see that it is a more 
 momentous thing to live, than, for one who is 
 ready, to die. For His word says, ‘‘ Blessed are 
 
rie Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 the dead who die in the Lord.” It takes a master- 
 ful faith to compass this sublime thought. We are 
 not accustomed to hold this view,—that death is, or 
 can be, a blessing; that the early death of the 
 righteous is a signal mark of Divine favor,—be- 
 cause we look from the stand-point of the living— 
 of personal sorrow. But if we could understand 
 this, ‘‘that they may rest from their labors,” I 
 think the whole point of view would be changed, 
 and we should be able to see what blessings the re- 
 deemed enter upon when they die. By and by we 
 shall be able to see it so. J think she did, with 
 that peculiarly clear vision of faith which was 
 given her in those last days. For she said,— 
 ‘¢ Death does not seem dreadful to me. I think I 
 could hear of the death of any of my friends, and 
 not shed a tear. Why do we cling to them so, and 
 try to keep them here, when it is so much more 
 glorious and blessed in heaven?” Ina volume of 
 Familiar Quotations I have found this, from Long- 
 fellow, marked with her pencil, as if it expressed 
 her thought: 
 
 ‘¢ There is no Death! What seems so is transition ; 
 This life of mortal breath 
 Is but the suburb of the life elysian, 
 Whose portal we call Death.” 
 
 Perhaps the purposes of God are accomplished, 
 in those who are called home in the ruddy flush of 
 

 
 Conclusion. 113 
 
 young life, before the rude touch of the world has 
 been laid upon them, by gentler processes; just as 
 the sweetest flowers are often not those which have 
 grown rugged under the fierce blasts, but which 
 have grown sweet and beautiful by the tender care 
 they had in your conservatory. Some natures need 
 rough treatment. Others, like the flowers, open 
 themselves to the sun-light of God’s love. They 
 were not meant for earth. Their feet touch here, 
 in their flight to the celestial world, just long 
 _ enough to shed God’s benediction, and then hasten 
 to obey the Father’s hand which bids them come 
 to Him. | 
 
 Another reason why God takes those who seem 
 specially ripened for heaven may be to gratify some 
 personal desire. I love to think that God enjoys 
 the companionship of souls which have His like- 
 ness, and that it is a matter of personal gratifica- 
 tion to Him to have them near Him. Does not 
 this agree with Christ’s promise,—“TI go to prepare 
 a place for you; and if I go and prepare a place 
 for you, I will come again and receive you unto 
 myself, that where I am there ye may be also”? 
 Is not the death of those whose lives have fitted 
 them for this honor an answer to Christ’s prayer,— 
 ‘Father, I will that they also whom thou hast. 
 given me be with me where I am, that they may 
 behold my glory which thou hast given me”? This 
 implies a personal desire, on our Savior’s part, 
 that those who love Him should be with Him. 
 
7 14 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 I love to ‘think, also, that God admires real 
 beauty, and therefore takes to Himself some of the 
 rarest fruits of His renewing grace before we are 
 ready to give them up. He likes jewels as well as 
 we, and wants them to set in His diadem of glory. 
 ‘* And they shall be mine, saith the Lord of hosts, 
 in that day when I make up my jewels.” We do 
 not select from the bush the rose which has out- 
 lived its beauty and its fragrance, and is fast falling 
 to decay: we pick the freshest, sweetest, fairest 
 flower we can. May not God, in a far higher 
 sense than we can, act on such a principle? God 
 wants the best, and why should He not have it? 
 If our friends are torn from us too soon, we may 
 take comfort from the thought that Jesus wanted 
 them, and that it was infinite condescension in 
 Him to deny Himself so long the pleasure of their 
 companionship in the Father’s house, that we 
 might have them to ourselves. 
 
 I cannot look behind the curtain which hides the 
 purposes of God. But when my heart cries out 
 within me, Why could He not have let the light 
 of my life shine upon me, with its sweet smiles of 
 hope and cheer, a little longer? I take refuge in 
 the thought that she was ripe for heaven, and God 
 wanted her. I say, as one who for more than 
 thirty years has lain on her bed of pain said of her, 
 ‘¢ She was too ripe for heaven to stay”; and I try 
 to be submissive to that deeper, mysterious plan, 
 

 
 Conclusion. 115 
 
 whose execution has changed and set aside all the 
 plans and hopes of my life. 
 
 I have found comfort, also, in the thought, that in 
 their death God gives His children an opportunity 
 to testify for Christ, such as life could not afford 
 them. Trial is the test of faith. Many a child of 
 God has come to the hour of death with very little 
 philosophy, but a great deal of trust. If you go to 
 Quebec, and visit the Plains of Abraham, you will 
 be shown the spot where Wolfe fell. You will be 
 told that, as he was dying, they brought him the 
 news that the French were flying; and that his 
 eye lighted for a moment, as he exclaimed,— 
 ** Now, God be praised! I die happy.” Stand on 
 another field of conflict, at the bed-side of the 
 young disciple who has overcome, and is about to 
 receive the crown of life and enter on the inheri- 
 tance of all things. See the light of glory steal 
 over the features. See that far-off look in the eye, 
 as if it were looking beyond the veil. You have 
 beheld a triumph which cannot be won on any 
 field of earthly strife. You have seen faith tried 
 by its severest test without failing. Men may 
 argue as they will, but they cannot argue down 
 such testimony. Many a man, witnessing such 
 triumph, has exclaimed within himself,—‘* Let me 
 die the death of the righteous, and let my last end 
 be like his.” The testimony of Isabel’s death to 
 the power of faith was such as to strike the tongue 
 
116 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 of cavil dumb. No one could have witnessed her 
 last hours on earth, and doubted for a moment that 
 Christ was present in her heart to sustain her. I 
 have felt that, by calling her so triumphantly home, 
 God underscored the testimony of her life, and. 
 gave it a prominence and force which her quiet, 
 retiring nature would have shrunk from. Already 
 her life and death have borne fruits. It cannot be 
 that the harvest is all gathered. 
 
 Another thought has brought me great comfort. 
 It may be that God takes away those whose choice 
 virtues and loveliness have bound them to us as 
 with cords which cannot be broken, to create in us 
 who remain a deeper and more personal interest 
 in heaven. I do not think it wrong to say that 
 heaven seems nearer and dearer since she has gone 
 there. The cord drawing us thither is stronger 
 now—stronger than any which bind us to earth. 
 Our treasures are multiplying on the other side: 
 why should not our heart’s best affections be there 
 also? 
 
 Those who have crossed the flood will soon be 
 more than those who remain. It will not be long 
 before our friends will all be there. The prophets 
 and patriarchs, the saints and apostles, the re- 
 deemed who have been called home out of every 
 nation, and kindred, and people, and tongue,— 
 more than all else, our elder brother, Jesus Christ,— 
 are there now. What a glorious company this, 
 

 
 Conclusion. 117 
 
 made doubly attractive to us by the presence of 
 that sweet spirit which so long smiled upon our 
 lives with its blessed light! Can it be wondered 
 that such personal presence, in the Father’s house, 
 has such an attractive power to us that we some- 
 times feel like Paul, and can hardly wait, having a 
 desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far 
 better ! : 
 
 I cannot think of her as dead. Her death did 
 not seem like dying. It was not. It was entering 
 into life. ‘‘ He that believeth in me, though he 
 were dead, yet shall he live.” ‘ He that hath the 
 Son hath. life.” ‘This is life eternal, that they 
 might know thee the only true God, and Jesus 
 Christ, whom thou hast sent.” She had that life. 
 That life cannot sleep; it cannot die. She is alive, 
 and with God. He ‘is not the God of the dead, 
 but of the living.” 
 
 ‘*Oh! call it not death! ’t is life begun, 
 For the waters are passed, and home is won; 
 The ransomed spirit has reached the shore 
 Where they weep and suffer and sin no more. 
 
 ‘¢ She is safe in her Father’s house above, 
 In the place prepared by her Savior’s love. 
 To depart from the world of sin and strife, 
 And to be with Jesus—yes, this is life.” 
 
 So I think of her as rejoicing in the presence of 
 her Savior, and of her death as going home. I can- 
 
118 Annals of a Beautiful Liye. 
 
 not think of her as lying in the grave. For Iam 
 as certain asI can be of anything, that, when the 
 gates of pearl swung back to let her in upon the 
 pavement of pure transparent gold, the Master 
 himself greeted her with a smile and a personal 
 welcome, and with His own hands placed upon 
 her brow a beauteous crown of victory. ev. 2: 
 10. It comforts me to think of the glory which 
 has burst upon her vision, and that her eye has 
 seen the Savior, and Paul, and all the saints of the 
 Bible.* ‘ Precious in the sight of the bouas is the 
 death of His saints.” 
 
 ‘« Precious, precious to Jehovah is His children’s holy 
 sleep ; 
 
 He is with them in the passing through the waters cold 
 and deep; 
 
 Everlasting love enfolds them, softly, sweetly to His 
 breast, 
 
 Everlasting love receives them to His glory and His 
 TESs[:i 
 
 Truly, the dead who die in the Lord are thrice 
 blessed. 
 
 Nevertheless, we miss her. At every turn I 
 stand face to face with her blessed memory. 
 Hardly anything in my work which her deft hand 
 has not touched, which her sweet life has not made 
 sacred, with which she was not in some way asso- 
 
 
 
 * Rev. 7:9, 10, 15-17; 21: 4,7; 22: 1-5,—and a multitude of like pas- 
 sages, which tell the glory they have gained whom God has called home. 
 

 
 
 
 Conclusion. 119 
 
 ciated. The very sunlight, in which she loved to 
 . sit, is brighter to me because she loved it. As 
 one of the sisters wrote,—‘‘I can scarcely go into 
 the sitting-room when the sun is shining, without 
 thinking of dear Isabel, for she did love the sunlight ; 
 and that room is very sunny. Her life to others 
 was a life of sunshine.” ‘The moon, the stars, the 
 woods, the flowers, the birds, have a new charm 
 now, for she delighted in them all. I could go 
 scarcely anywhere without some sweet remem- 
 brance of those blessed years, during which I knew 
 and had her, being brought vividly to my mind, to 
 tell me of my irreparable loss. 
 
 ‘*Oh! the lost, the unforgotten ! 
 In our hearts they perish not.” 
 
 When I think of her as having entered into that 
 deathless life, and as walking over those pavements 
 of pure transparent gold, within those walls and 
 gates of precious stones, I cannot feel like drawing 
 élack lines around her death, but bands of gold and 
 of glory. For,—just think of it !—she is clothed in 
 white raiment, and has palms in her hands, and 
 wears jewels with which her Savior has adorned 
 her, and He has taken her by the hand, and intro- 
 duced her to the King of heaven, saying,—She 
 alsorteronero: mine. ev, 3: 4,5; 7: 9; 10; 
 Isa. 61:10. Those who knew her in life know 
 how she delighted in clean white garments, and 
 
120 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 that this delight was a fit emblem of the purity of 
 her sweet life. When we think of her as sitting 
 with Christ in the kingdom of God, and on His 
 throne (Luke 13: 29; Mev. 3: 21), and as having 
 on a wedding robe, and sitting at the marriage- 
 supper of the Lamb (fev. 19: 8, 9), how can we 
 mourn for her! Some one spoke rightly who said 
 that her funeral did not seem like an occasion of 
 mourning, but of solemn and holy joy. 
 
 But when we think of our loss, the heart bleeds, 
 and bleeds, and bleeds. Sometimes, when I look | 
 up, the eye is dim with weeping, and yonder seems 
 so far away; and when I try to tell the bitter sor- 
 row in that ear which is always open, the voice is 
 husky with grief, and it seems as if no one were 
 near to hear. And I utter the complaint of my 
 heart in the words of the poet she loved so well: 
 
 ‘* Break, break, break, 
 On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! 
 And I would that my tongue could utter 
 The thoughts that arise in me. 
 * * * * # 
 ‘And the stately ships go on 
 To their haven under the hill ; 
 But O for the touch of a vanished hand, 
 And the sound of a voice that is still.” 
 
 And then better, more consoling thoughts come to 
 me, and yonder seems nearer, and the open ear to 
 listen, and I feel that I am not alone, and that the 
 

 
 Conclusion. 121 
 
 hand is not vanished, nor the voice still. For 
 there is no divine philosophy, of which I know, to 
 forbid the conjecture that she may not be so wholly 
 ignorant of our earthly life as we may think. But, 
 at any rate, the voice is not still, for she being dead 
 yet speaks, and the hand is not vanished, for her 
 works do follow her. Oh! blest philosophy of 
 Divine thought and compassion, which lets the 
 touch of the blessed lives, which have been linked 
 to ours, linger ! 
 
 My task is done. More than words can tell, it 
 has been a labor of love. I am painfully sensible 
 of the feebleness of words to paint her life as it 
 deserved to be painted. Their brightest colors are 
 dim beside the truth. I must therefore leave it to 
 the reader to say how much, if any, in his estimate, 
 this life was above the commonplace. To those 
 who knew her, no words of praise will be fulsome. 
 We feel that she has entered into joys no pen can 
 describe. We believe that her life was in every 
 way noble, and worthy of imitation. As we have 
 said, we can wish nothing better for the coming 
 women than that they may be such dutiful daugh- 
 ters, and affectionate companions, and _ sincere 
 Christians, as she was. 
 
 A mother, closing the eyes of her little daugh- 
 ter, who had just breathed her last, said,—‘‘I give 
 thee joy, my daughter.” God has given joy to our 
 dear one, and shall we not have grace to say,— 
 
122 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 
 
 ‘“‘ We give thee joy, sweet sister”? How shall we 
 
 say it?) With what words shall we end our praise 
 of her, and say adieu? Let the following beautiful 
 
 poem, from the pen of Mrs. Herrick Johnson, of 
 
 Auburn, N. Y., speak for us: 
 
 ‘What shall I say to thee, sweetest, kneeling beside 
 thee in tears,— 
 
 Knowing that here ends the measure of all thy beautiful 
 years? 
 
 Feeling the death-seal of silence between us, henceforth 
 from this day, 
 
 Which, of all lovingest things that my seca for See 
 holds, shall I say? 
 
 ‘‘Can I beg thee for dear words of parting, with eager and 
 passionate breath? 
 
 Or lament thy so instant transition from life to this mar- 
 ble of death? 
 
 And if I named all thou art leaving, should it be indeed 
 matter of grief, 
 
 That thou leavest the sowing for reaping—the seed for the 
 full-ripened sheaf? 
 
 ‘¢ But what hast thou left, then, dear sleeper, of all that the 
 soul counteth worth,— 
 
 Opening thine eyes upon heaven, as they close on the 
 gladness of earth? 
 
 Thou art gone from this flower-crowned brightness to 
 God’s glowing garden above ; 
 
 Gone from our poor, anxious loving, to infinite riches of 
 love. 
 

 
 Conclusion. 123 
 
 ‘‘ No shadow of death on thy pathway, no river in struggle 
 to Cross ; 
 
 No anguish or trial of ane no moment to picture a 
 loss ; 
 
 But in one happy instant, the angel who carries the golden 
 key, 
 
 Hath unlocked the wonderful portals, and peetea: all 
 heaven to thee! 
 
 ‘¢O mystic, unspeakable glory! I linger and listen outside, 
 
 Though I catch but in echo the faintest, the joy of the on- 
 swelling tide ; 
 
 _ But I know tiea art there with the ea on the banks 
 of the crystal sea, 
 
 And knowing such things, beloved, I can say but one 
 thing to thee. 
 
 ** See, I place in thy hand these lilies, like those that the 
 angel brought 
 
 For the day of annunciation, and I have but this one glad 
 thought ; 
 
 Pressing my kisses down on thy death-sweet face, I say, 
 
 From my heart of hearts, my darling, 7 give thee joy this 
 day!” 
 
 “MHmen. 
 

 

 

 

 

 
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