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 *^ NEW-YOKK: *"" 
 
 JOHN A. GRAY, PRINTER, STKUE0TYPP:R, AND lUXDEPw, 
 
 F I K E - I' n O O F TJ r I I. i» I N <; s , 
 
 16 i 18 JACOB STREKT, CORNER OF KRANKFOKT. 
 
 (^f? 
 
 18(31. 
 
 y* 
 
 </ 
 
 ^,^A. ^^,y/^^ 
 
A' 
 
 Eiiiored, according to Act of Congress, in tVie year 1861, by 
 
 Ii. J. LITTLE, ' 
 
 in the Clerk's Offict' of the District Court of tlie United States, for tlie 
 Southern District of New-York. 
 
 
A MOTIII.IfS IM'ACK 01 ri.IMN*;. 
 
 CIIAPTKU I. ' 
 
 To Miw. K M . 
 
 *'• ■' ;> Kkli-ow-Tkachkk : You ;-.... 
 
 your upiaion of Slavery, now 
 
 ■ ■ . • "'it-" i 
 Tliough a u7or/i(in, I Iiave nn opinion concern- 
 
 •■;: "slavery, in its liraitc<l, m well m Us moru 
 1 sc-nso. But to give Jhis opinion to you, 
 t giving you my rtasons, or mtber tin- 
 <-■ ■.■:■■' of cUucntion which hna brought mo to j 
 thi-i (pinion, (not this opinion to me,) would avail 
 lull-. 
 
 You are awnre that by nature and m-hool cdu- 
 ciiiuti, our endowments ore widely dirtoront. 
 That it is only by walking and talking togt'ihcr 
 
 ■ vnr tlio wnnl* tlio wnrka, nnd the ways of God 
 
 ' :i all of human kind,) 
 . kc. 
 
 • , u,... tl,.. c,., .. oh- 
 
 • m 
 t .1 'he 
 
 (M'l^ ' f I III' iiuVLTval opprtrSBioii uuUor wbicli our 
 carih t'fi'-.ii.i to-dny. 
 
 You, my friend, have had ample opportunity 
 to ask for truth, where money pays the tuition 
 
 It has boon minoto obtain it "without money 
 nnd without price." 
 
 Tou liave studied in the schools of the world ; 
 /, in thn school of e.\p<-'ricnci'. 
 
 )' ■\^>- read books of human inspiration; J, 
 
 I. 
 
 <\. 
 
 Ull-'.ill'-t 
 
 N'uw. yuu gay to me: "1 shotild love to sit with 
 you once more under the Rha<low of our old 
 mountain, tn liston to wordH of tnith from vour 
 
 Vov«>mb<<r l««t, I had a jinmlvlic alUrk which 
 
 h 
 d 
 
 ■■ r. «. : ^ 
 
 should iIhmi l(ir^.'< I it- le 
 
 clinvo to tho ro fof n ,. vc 
 
 many years since iirayod, aii did l^uvid. liiai this 
 may be my j>ortion if I prixe not Jerusalem 
 abov< y. 
 
 Yi; ■ rs are much weakened, and I 
 
 have iiiiiiv ii.iinis wl - ' ' '* ■ ' ■' " '•■" a 
 claim upon me as a < • i re 
 
 adopt I hi' manner < ! , > nd 
 
 through yoti, stud to ail, by asking lor each a 
 copy at thf hrnid of iho press. 
 
 I ii day f.f July, 18C0, finding my 
 
 only ■ at Miller's llottd. in Shcffl<'ld, 
 
 Maj'S. \\ ii. II i ■ " " . _ ^ 
 
 housH-kcoper, likt r, 
 
 who closed up hi r >....: - v.ill 
 
 congratulate mo. 
 
 The aire of my own person, a little daily writ- 
 ing nnd talking, with exercise in the of^-n air 
 by riding or walking, i« nil that I oan unffly at- 
 tempt. Yet, a.s my w. ■ fa 
 most lovely portion of I 'e 
 I may hold comn • ■•■ ■. .. ilh 
 God, amid the f:i: 'Me but 
 eventful life, you at I am 
 neither dejectcnl nor lonely. 
 
 Tho 8ide-wnlka of this villsgo ar« much im- 
 proved since you were here. 
 
 To mv foet, there is no other path in open air 
 " " •> ' , -'id earth. 
 
 rest I 
 
 ry m'l 
 whicli 
 with t 
 
 -ts me to 
 
 I her wlioso nietno- 
 
 iicd upon the pages 
 
 of slavery, together 
 
 brought me to this 
 
 • ' I my manner of life from my youth, you are 
 
 '., . n t,.,! T,, '"nt'i I 111-.- !.'(<. vt il,'Hi/n, 
 
 . re- 
 
 I Uiii to l>«:UtfVe my vye^ 1 tiii<J UXM I Uiviki'uriiliOe. 
 
 who .- ■ do." I It wno in the (uimmnr of IS21. a littlo b#foPB I 
 
 Her.- :h ■ • . .■ ..^. 
 
 alike ; and g. 
 
 l>uinU« wiiereui wu diiter. 
 
 7*., y,!-« yr,n to f'-i flt.T'*'^/ trifh fiv 'I/". wovH 
 ' i my hiddi : 
 
 ; i.H0*l were 
 
 w.ir.i. y . ■ - , ■ ■ w^ . . 
 
 pen as I proceed. I 
 
 You are, perhaps, already m formed that in i 
 
 
 
 
 •be 
 
 
 iiv iiad 
 i!>n«>«» 
 
 ni- 
 fuipiuyed 
 
 
 
 
 - an 
 
 
 
 -Xt 
 
 of 
 
 
 
 
 In- 
 
 
 
 
 ■ a- 
 
 . CJMH' i .- 
 
 ihe dcman. 
 
 
 .te 
 
 
 i to 
 
A mother's peace offering. 
 
 the school-house situated three miles to the nortli- 
 west of the village, and two miles east by north 
 from my fethcr's, to enter upon the untried and 
 unlooked-for responsibilities of teacher. For re- 
 muneration, I was to receive board in the wortliy 
 families of the district, and one dollar per week 
 in cash at the expiration of the term. 
 
 It was your own fortune to be one of the forty 
 pupils then and there intrusted to my charge. 
 
 The following summer (1828) I was invited to 
 teaoli the same scliool for the same remuneration, 
 and again accepted the call. The third summer 
 of my teacher life, (1829,) I was invited to en- 
 gage in Egremont, an adjoining town, at an ad- 
 vanced salary, namely, one dollar fifty per week. 
 Here I succeeded to the satisfaction of my em- 
 ployers, and was urged to stay beyond the time 
 for which I had contracted ; and was also urged 
 on the return of another summer to state any 
 terms on which I would take the school. But 
 the then undiscovered gold of California could 
 not have induced me to attempt to remain longer 
 than to fulfill my first engagement. I could not 
 explain myself I fdt that I could not, and that 
 feeling influenced my decision. The truth was, 
 the government of the school was as a yoke 
 upon my neck which I was not able to bear. 
 There were from fifty to sixty pupils, and among 
 them a class of boys who had been accustomed 
 to show to the females employed to teach them 
 that to obey woman was not their province. I 
 therefore felt that as a woman, it was my right 
 to be excused from governing man when he has 
 passed the period of early childhood. Though I 
 had never been sick, and could not claim then to 
 be side, I suffered the most excruciating pains in 
 my teeth and face caused by overtasking the 
 nervous system. Physiological science did not 
 in that day shed its light upon those in my cir- 
 cumstances in life. 
 
 All that 1 knew, I read in the inner man, and 
 had no theory by which to explain myself to those 
 without; and while I acted out the rational 
 truth wiitten by the finger of God within the 
 natural man, as well as upon the inspired page, 
 namely, "All that a man hath will he give for 
 his life," I wa.'j thought by those stronger than 
 myself to be strangely set in my own way, in 
 that I did not yield to much solicitation and the 
 opportunity of gaining money. Mr. D. I. Spur, 
 prudential committee-man of the district in which 
 ray father lived, then came to me, saying, he did 
 not think to ask me to teach their school until he 
 heard I was intent on remaining at home, be- 
 cause he could not hold out the inducements in 
 money matters that others would do; but he 
 thouglit I could teach the little school where I 
 had obtained my education, and be sufficiently 
 at home. I acquiesced in his opinion, and the 
 summer of 1830 found me in the home of my 
 pupilage, raised to the honorary degree of 
 teacher. Here my trials were adapted to my 
 strength, and teaching beyan to wear an attract- 
 ive aspect. lu autumn Mr. Spur asked me to 
 teach the winter -school. But I readily objected 
 to governing a school where boys of every age 
 have been the privilege (as they should do) of at- 
 tending. In a few days Mr. S. returned to 
 tell me that he had conferred with the head of 
 every family in the district, and each had given 
 him promise that if I would consent to teach, 
 no one should go from his family to give any 
 
 trouble in the school. I consented, and for five 
 succe.ssive winters (1830 to 1834) and three 
 summers (1830 to 1832) was I employed in 
 superintending and teaching the public school 
 near my "Mountain Home." My success being 
 rumored abroad, 1 was often solicited to go from 
 home to teach, and on one occasion Rev. Mr. 
 Burt, of Groat Barrington, urg( d so strongly, 
 and found me so firm in refusing to go into 
 that village and teach a winter term of pub- 
 lic school, that he suspected I was about to 
 be married. The simple reason lay in the fact 
 that I did not judge it my duty or privilege to 
 undertake the government of a winter school 
 under any other conditions than those proffered 
 in my native district. Iq the summer of 1831 
 I publicly professed faith in Christ, and entered 
 into covenant with God and his people. My 
 wages had been increased to two dollars per 
 week in summer and three in winter, beside 
 board. The summer of 1833 found me teaching 
 in the south-west district of the town ; my school 
 numbering seventy pupils. During the fum- 
 m'-rs of 1834 and 1835 I was in the village- 
 school near the church. 
 
 Our town, containing a population of 2500, 
 scattered over a surface of some fifty or sixty 
 square miles, had then but one church, (a Con- 
 gregational.) The summer of 1836 I spent in 
 the north part of the village in the school upon 
 the plain. Every successive season increased 
 my interest in the work of teaching, and gave 
 me new power in that direction. In the autumn 
 of 183G I was invited by one who had manifest- 
 ed much interest in my teacher-life to take the 
 place of a departed wife and mother in his 
 family. After suitable deliberation I felt it ray 
 privilege and duty to accept the proposal. 
 
 The man with whom it was my de.stiny to be- 
 come united for life was not one who had settled 
 the question, " "What good thing shall I do to in- 
 herit eternal life ?" but like the young man 
 spoken of in the Gospel, ho had, to his own 
 view, kept all the commandments from his youth 
 up, and had not discovered what he yet lacked. 
 But as the Siviour could look upon such a one 
 and love him, it was surely right that I should 
 do the same. 
 
 It was a privilege in which I then rejoiced, iu 
 which I do still rejoice, and in which I expect to 
 rejoice eternally, notwithstanding my warmest 
 earth friends, when they look upon the trials I 
 have endured because of this union, deeply de- 
 plore the fact that it ever existed. 
 
 I have a strong desire to have my friends at 
 ease in regard to my destiny. My sufferings 
 have been greatly enhanced through believing 
 they were not ; and it is one motive with me in 
 these pages, to help them, if I may, into the light 
 that shall give them a more perfect and soul- 
 satisfying vision. The man of my choice was 
 many years my senior. He stood head and 
 shoulders above the mass, and was so guarded, so 
 grave, and so signified, that envy, with its at- 
 tendant malice, had not yet found an avenue 
 through which to affect him seriously. Popular 
 speech told of but one defect of his, and that lay 
 in the government of 'his house. But he was 
 evidently a great admirer of good order and 
 peace. His heart was not out-spoken, and there 
 was in his countenance a peculiar blending of 
 the severe with the gentle. He united great 
 
A MOTIIEKS PKACK OFKKKINO. 
 
 phyhicnl sUeOKlli auU an unlliocbiug purpoco 
 Mi'iih llio iTMi.M ..' ■■>. . .r. -worn itpiiil, luvokly 
 AHkiUff tor 
 
 1 wvi 1; nianlin««M of ibo 
 
 man, mid t luv Hpiril-yearoiiigK of bin 
 
 ovidontly I :il. 
 
 1I< . ' ' . >* ukinfc up un 
 
 opiii. , although not 
 
 pr..v. 
 
 Ill ol 1^31 I Lnd been gliockc-d at 
 
 tho Ik iiL, tlirough the prcM, ibat a 
 
 crime ul deu^x.'8t dyo rMti<d upon u clatts of my 
 fellow-bwiugH, liiotso wiio wore boui.U to me by 
 tho boDda of a common country — (h« couolry 
 especially favortd among tho nulions of the 
 oarth. 
 
 Mj uaturo revolted at the horrid opcctaclo 
 pri -..nU'l to my imaginution ; and I oould do no 
 r any more, than to urge in home 
 1 t}io«c who wore deaipned by their 
 MuAur lo w Aur with wrong, tho claimn 
 
 of tho ui>i)i .itig for lite, and also pray 
 
 to th t" ' 1 is the destiny of all, 
 
 that : L«iK:d to go troo. 
 
 He , .. r4 in a way very 
 
 diflerotit from tl. . ny own mind; 
 
 but in a wiiy v. i me into tho 
 
 liKht of truili, fur wiiich 1 Uu-tt hU holy name. 
 My hiiobniid, having bo*>n n rotailing morchnnl 
 .iry, where ' i ll,o cit- 
 
 :.ir many w :n lalx^r, 
 
 oii't ii....-;.iug Uie ni.i.v. „..,. w,v -. >v.s of tho 
 day. had iho opportunity of tfjmii.g more gra- 
 dually to tho understanding that f»i4'p-niolher8, 
 as a claa^, are oppressors; not troiu hiu de.scciid- 
 inr ti p-irtii'i[>s!e in goiisip, but from being a 
 ii d hands were employed 
 8j tried had hia spirit 
 ■ ■' : -ition he there 
 <.cn, in justice 
 
 — ._-, . ,.... -V from his own 
 
 : and be mo»t naiurally and con- 
 i not pray lor lbo!-o ohjecta lor which 
 he co^id not labor, and was Uicrofore little 
 moved by the story of real or imagined wrong?. 
 A 111 general rule**, he 
 
 I i lot to introduce a 
 
 .. V y, tf.at it was to be 
 
 :<> hnd ffii: exception. But when, to 
 ii :.ent, be learned that tho populace 
 
 cUstteu me with tho guilty, theru wua in his cha- 
 racter, as I hive'ii'rv>v«rtd. ht:i\ as [ f'xp<^ct to 
 ahow to il • 
 frenzy wli 
 
 the truth, ii...><..n' • «...( m- . ..iv ..i,.i .i 3.;.,. i 
 tho evidence in and by which ii ahoulJ be pre- 
 sented. 
 
 Believing, as I do, that he u now brought into 
 the light ot tr-nh by a u;vj he knew not, and into 
 astatewiu i.ce is tho natural atmos- 
 
 phero. I y . present work upon tiio 
 
 I > • our own convoLsion trom 
 
 ' jr fellows, is a nnvuj as 
 
 \s ... 
 
 ZacctieuH ciiini>e(i where he might look over 
 those aro -.ud him, and ^• -^ .Tcsh. On that day 
 «;ilvi\ 1 '• . .iine lo his I. as one of its 
 
 :.r-i ( :! rL-i, he rrstor^ . Wo anv from 
 
 I injured that which has been taken from them by 
 
 I,, H.. 1. ■.».! ,1. under Lis own indoratmeiK 
 
 ' ■ lift, in (.' tlic ft-on/y which io 
 
 ,1 must 
 I fly u|(on 
 
 as 
 ■ine 
 .....^lljo 
 I 
 
 I i.-tciU ui K' j«o 
 
 :.A at tho i l.iat 
 
 l".\u. 1 cijpy the foUuw.ug fr^ui a l'-lij.r datc-d 
 ' Aug. 8th, 1811): 
 
 "I Iciirn that tho Rev. Kphrnim Little married 
 two widf>w« — jliHt inoh liad children by her for- 
 
 I mor 1 ■ ■ 'iim. 
 
 ' Tl ;)lo dlnve, and thnt some 
 
 ! ,..• , ,.. I, ,,.1.1.,... ^■.. ,,„d 
 
 lumb-etonefl Ul Ihv buryiug-grvtind at Ooicliester. 
 
 SACRED TO T 11 K MEMORY 
 
 OF THE Rev. Kphraim Little, 
 
 Pastor of tlie First Churih of CLrijit in Colchester, 
 
 who died Juno &th, 17HT, in tho 
 
 eightieth year of his age, and fifty-fifth 
 
 of his ministry. 
 
 IN MEMORY OF 
 
 Mk.s. L:mza.cetu, 
 
 Yc virtuous Consort of y« Rev. Mr. Little of 
 
 Colchester, who departed this life Nov. 
 
 Y« 13lh, 1754, in y* Fortieth 
 
 Year of her age. 
 
 " .So pinna, prodont pnttent and ktnd. 
 Perhaps bur e<]u>l mty nut be left licbiod." 
 
 S A C R K D TO THE MEMORY 
 
 Or Mrs. Anir.Aii. Littlk. 
 
 Tho virtuous Consort of tho Rev. 
 
 Kpliraiiu Little, who died Juno 27lh, 1786. in 
 
 Y^ 69th year of her age. 
 
 The history of my hu.-band's fulhcr is little 
 kf own t<-« ino. Ho f,.ll.,wo.l t!:*^ '^»n inf.'rly life; 
 
 >^in 
 !id 
 
 i'\ ii'i .-'.'co.j't. i.'i i:..i.<t6U 
 
 iinl w;i-i (1 
 
 <-A \' 
 
 ATS of iige 
 
 wA titcir 
 
 
 ..iy. 
 ■i by an 
 
 i aleigli, ti 
 
 
 ne two 
 
 • Iv© 
 
 w 
 
 ■ >r 
 r. 
 
 ..lie 
 
 my 1... 
 and \v 
 
 bis prtitnl vnU through seeking to restore to the 
 
 .•il, il«) iiVuii itioUO, 
 '.il, 
 
 '.i« 
 d 
 
 ■ .- . - <M 
 
 where was a mere supply of bread and water, 
 
6 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 and that gathered by the sweat of his own brow, 
 I can not say. But I am convinced that his 
 heritage gave hira great strength of purpose, and 
 a dread of, if not a contempt for, poverty. For 
 his mother and sisters he cherislied an affection- 
 ate remembrance. His mother gave her child- 
 ren to God in baptism through the Episcopal 
 Church ; but she, with her eldest daughter, after- 
 ward united with the Baptist Church. 
 
 I have heard my husband say that his mother 
 was at one time insane, through the trial to her 
 mind of having their effects taken by an officer 
 for debt. After her death, he was left to struggle 
 only for himself. Perhaps some secret counsel- 
 or whispered in the silent chambers of his soul, 
 that what he could have done for his father was 
 better kept as a gift for the house he would build 
 for himself He applied himself diligently to 
 useful labor from necessity ; and in so doing, ob- 
 tained a reward which encouraged him to pro- 
 ceed, till he found the seeming curse of his herit- 
 age gradually removing. 
 
 His half-brother, Noah Bulkley, eventually 
 employed him as clerk in mercantile business, 
 and afterward made him partner, till his own 
 profits amounted to two thousand dollars. He 
 now commenced acting alone with reference to 
 building for himself a place and a name. While 
 taking thought for the needful money, he was 
 also taking thought for the " wise woman." 
 After carefully selecting from among the pupils 
 of Bacon Academy, an institution of high repute 
 in his native town, new trials commenced through 
 discovering that his fldr one did not duly appre- 
 ciate himself, his labors and successes. His selec- 
 tion being from a family which had never known 
 the privations incident to now-country life, it was 
 perfectly natural it should be so. But with great 
 powers of endurance, and good business talent, 
 he did not unite a power of tracing effects to 
 their causes, but unhappily confounded them.by 
 putting cause for effect, and vice versa. Hence, 
 the foundation for a causeless hatred, which, 
 united with a vindictive spirit, should lead him 
 blindly to go a warfare at his oivn charges ; yet so 
 concealed from the world without, that it should 
 find nothing for spoil, except the peace of his 
 single or wedded self. 
 
 Here I take 03casion (compelled by a sense of 
 justice) to transcribe from a parcel put into my 
 hands by my husband, after my own marriage. 
 
 Bast-Haddam, Ct., Feb. 29th, 1811. 
 Mr. Ralph Little: 
 
 Kind Sir: I write to prove my continued 
 friendship, and to express a wish that this (on 
 my part agreeable) correspondence may be con- 
 tinued. You expressed in your last letter many 
 interesting and pleasing sentiments. I hope they 
 were truly coincident with your feelings. I have 
 no reasons, obvious, to convince me they were 
 not. I must therefore believe in the sincerity of 
 your expressions, however extravagant. Per- 
 haps your exalted ideas will again induce you to 
 believe some one has found meaTis to divert me 
 from writing. But I find my mind (after being 
 tried) is too firmly established to be easily divert- 
 ed from him to whom I am now devoted. In 
 my last, I requested you to write particular. I 
 mig"at again mal<e the request, with an explana- 
 tion, but it would, perhaps, be of no use, as 
 time will inevitably unfold all mysteries. . . 
 
 You have doubtless heard of the death of your 
 little niece, Mary Little. With sentiments, etc.. 
 Your real friend, Maria Fox. 
 
 KoRTRiGiiT, K Y., March 23d, 1812. 
 To Maria: 
 
 Come gentle spring, ethereal mildness, come. 
 
 The season is now fast approaching when na- 
 ture, released from her icy bonds, will resume 
 her wonted gayety. The lark has already been 
 heard to sing in the meadow, the blue-bird been 
 seen perched upon the trees, and the red-breast 
 hopping and chirping upon the ground in spots 
 where the snow has left bare its face ; and in a 
 few weeks more the fields will appear drest in all 
 the pride of nature and innocence, the trees deck- 
 ed iu the 'richest green and the hawthorn in 
 blossoms of wbite. All tlie^e have power to ope- 
 rate on the mind of the absent swain, and to 
 awaken in the heart those tender feelings which 
 the vulgar never knew. They will call afresh to 
 my mind the time when, 
 
 '• As I listened to thee. 
 The happy hours passf'd by us un perceived, 
 So was my soul fixed to the soft enchantment." 
 
 Spring is a delightful season. I admire it for 
 many things ; but for one thing I hate it. 
 
 Inasmuch as this is an occasional epistle, and 
 not directly in [the line of our correspondence, 
 permit me to write whatever comes handy, and I 
 will insert some lines written by Eliza in a book 
 entitled " The Ruins of Innocence." Eliza was 
 sitting in an arbor, and admiring the beautiful 
 contrast between the tulip and the violet. The 
 latter, the emblem of modesty, had concealed 
 itself in the high grass. The former wantoned 
 in the blaze of day, in all the conscious effron- 
 tery of pride. She drew her pencil and wrote 
 the following lines, which she entitled : 
 
 MODESTY, 
 
 The violet seeks the woodland shade, 
 
 And simns the glare of day ; 
 The tulip blushes in the glade, 
 
 And courts the sunny ray. 
 
 A florist roves the dewy lawn. 
 
 And spies the gaudy flower. 
 And plucks the useless blossom down, 
 
 To grace his sylvan bower. 
 
 The blossom droops, tlie leaves decay, 
 
 Its roseate color flies ; 
 It languishes for Phoebus' rays — 
 
 It withers, fades, and dies. 
 
 The violet blossoms in the shade. 
 
 And shuns the solar ray; 
 Vailed in its modest green, afraid 
 
 Its beauties to display. 
 
 And watered with the morning dew, 
 
 It flourishes unseen ; 
 Its flowers assume a deeper hue. 
 
 Its leaves a fairer green. 
 
 Learn hence, ye fair 1 . . . . 
 
 Eliza had discovered a very pretty thought which 
 she might have arranged in another stanza, but 
 the poem was left unfinished. 
 
 Maria, you said in your last letter there was 
 mach you could write, and much more you could 
 say, were you to see me. I don't know as you 
 are hardly pardonable for such an omission — but 
 here, you may take the inclosed profile, say to it 
 all you would say to me, (and you can't be afraid 
 
A MOTHKUS PKACE OFFERIN(i 
 
 ■•< talk to so bamilctw a tiling M thnt,) write 
 ;..wi) hII you gny, and wml to mo. 
 
 You will l>o kind cTif.iiv:li to wrilo by the 
 
 i-oarer of ihin, Mr. KintnoiiH. I think he will dia- 
 
 do9o nothitij:. I tliiok vou may ixjkcI to hoc 
 
 iiif in iho courM' i<f lht> Mummcr, jurlm}^* the 
 
 ■roport. 
 
 I an), iiB ever, meet sincerely yourf, 
 
 R. LlTTtK. 
 
 KoRinioUT, Auff. 29th, 1H13. 
 
 Dear (Jirl: 1 at laRt roct-it'ed your letter 
 
 V. ;th the iiitloeed. hut had loii^; before piven up 
 
 hDR it I foftfod there niifiht have been 
 
 lUff iu my letter which tlid not pleai>e you, 
 
 1 r u ul your mind waa (li\' ' ' ' ■ liier nd- 
 
 dic«*c«. I fear, nnd tliink 1 i to, if I 
 
 r I, .. -..f ul .t ' . • . , .; L'li I last 
 
 •ys of nur»e are not 
 of your wishcf". I 
 Wish ii wtru olhcrwi.Sf, but pnidence ought al- 
 ways to direct, and the dictates of reaaon mu"t 
 not bo disre^rardod. The times as jet ! 
 been v« ry unfavorable for mercantile 
 
 but the fut-r • - - -- t ,i ,./.. i« very ...^ 
 
 hkriiip, arid ■< war should 
 
 cease, will i ^ 'iinjj to. For 
 
 my part, I am at a iixHs iiow loKhape my busineas 
 
 f'<r the future to mako it profitable. I am glad 
 
 Kiiow how to appreciate the pretended friend- 
 
 of him you mentioned. For mv part, I 
 
 iL.i.k him entirely incapable of friendship or sin- 
 
 I . rity. I am also jjlad that your mind is com- 
 
 i> -, 1 amidst the virulence of envy and slander. 
 
 ! • vere in well-doinff ; do nothing but what the 
 
 . .. lous and candiil would approve; be virttious 
 
 uiid bo happy. Once more adieu. 
 
 R. LiTTLK. 
 
 P. S. — The mail pnssinp last week earlier 
 than usual, I missed of sending this letter which 
 was ready written. I have now opened it to 
 make an addition. As you live, my brother 
 Bulkley tnnied with me In.st uiRhl — has pone to- 
 day to the westward a piece — expects to return 
 to-morrow. Do not be angry with me for thus 
 deferring a visit, for Ilcavcn can Itll with what 
 extreme reluctance I submit to this long protrac- 
 tion of my happinei>s. It grieves me to the 
 heart that I cannot write decisively, for I believe 
 jcu expect it. Again adieu. K. L. 
 
 I next introtluco a l-'H' r , ,i,irr.aa«yj \)j him who 
 became my own marr to an intimate 
 
 friend of Maria, the : Mi.ss Arnold 
 
 afterward became the wiio ot iiev. Mr. Green, 
 MiKsionary to the Sandwich Islands. 
 
 , KORTRiGHT, Nov. 28tli, 1813. 
 Miss Tueoposia Arnold: 
 
 Pkar Makam : A thousand thanks are due to 
 you for your continued fricrd«hip fo Maria, and 
 your kind inlerpoeilion on 1 . r you say 
 
 it was on her account you :. «•. Docs 
 
 not this i lit lu con.so- 
 
 ([ueDce of I 'o let mo 
 
 know it ex ,.. ; :i ? Ifso, 
 
 iier feelings are periiaps t>.;MC.(icnl with mine. 
 But tell me. Theodosia, if you know, how can a 
 young creature like Maria — and one would think 
 without a single care on her mind — I say, how 
 is it possible for her to be discontented? Is it 
 natural to the sex ? 
 
 I ki^ow 'lis Raid — 
 
 I • m Is form 
 
 II die »• »"'r .NM'il ><'U mu»i eoofort her — for 
 l.eaveii known, rather than cause her one uuue- 
 cvpurj pang I would revigti this life. Hut if vou 
 knew how litil«» I valuo it, perhapa you wimld 
 think it but 1, ' " . ,^ 
 
 di)(-ial if I V. 'T 
 
 that damsel .- '^ 
 
 situation ; for 
 
 I hope it NMii ' I'ly with 
 
 TOijr reT'ieM, >"■" ■-• a po»l- 
 
 .'• II. ■ 1 mil v« ry anxioua 
 ive K. II. 
 
 .'\ic %•■. Ml 1 -u . as intimate as ever? 
 
 Adieu, but if I see you let me hear no sighing. 
 Again adieu, 11. Little. 
 
 East-Haddam, April 28th, 1814. 
 
 Mh. Litti.k : Words can notexprew the sur- 
 prise I fell when it wa." (vrii!'. <l t<> mo thst \ou 
 had left this place ! I • il 
 
 p 'R-sible that you IIh-h : lU 
 
 hud before ^ — ' Jte 
 
 the singula; ;•>- 
 
 sition of tl. . , , --d 
 
 you," (to the eflect of whose intluence I am not 
 insensible, and which I think you will not pre- 
 sume to deny.) I could not accuse myaplf of 
 being intentionally iu faiilt but you will Lake ibe 
 liberty to i: '. ' '" not 
 
 giving nie : ;• 8- 
 
 tery," il api.'.... ■.. ■■ , ..^ . . . .uld 
 
 remain so. My mind remains much as when I 
 huut titikcd with you. Should it be con.siDteDi 
 with your wishes and bvi^intss to take a journey 
 to Ea.xi-Hsddam before ••urnnier, your r^Minnable 
 expt> • 
 
 Oii' nd 
 
 ■itiing it) I may 1 .to 
 
 • in the fall. J . , 'i^- 
 
 quamtcd with your calculalionH, il is liiiticull 
 
 communicating such as you will perhaps wish to 
 
 know. "The object of ycur ; ird'vi-ill 
 
 endeavor to be prepared, il ; the re- 
 
 ,. ._..._. .. .,^^^ 
 
 :«y 
 
 : to 
 
 - in 
 
 ■ ■• lo 
 
 Ueprtvo UH of fcVfty *,;.^uyn.';:il wl.u.^ ctuiirs in 
 terrestrial thinos. To that Iking may we now 
 
 look for gu; ' ' " ' ' .red 
 
 that the .T . 'it. 
 
 .Vdieu. I ; •■■■■ 
 
 Mahla Fo-T. 
 
 P. S.— 1 n if it is cot 
 
 convenient .-ing, and until 
 
 I hear pomeii .n;; jmiu .i .u >■, ^i-you, I shall be 
 anxiously expecting your arrival. Tbcodoiua 
 
A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 sends her best respects to you, and appears much 
 interested in our weitare and future happiness. 
 
 M. P. 
 
 Bast-Haddam, Oct. lOtb, 1814. 
 
 You ask " What can I do ? when will it be 
 otherwise '?" Mr. Little, I do not wish you to 
 deviate from Avhat you consider strict proprietj', 
 nor make the smallest sacrifice with a view to 
 promote my happiness, which is not perfectly 
 consistent with your own. Therefore I would 
 wish to lay before you no temptation to do from 
 a sense of duty or obligation, what you would 
 never do from choice. 
 
 I am at present inclined to think from the ir- 
 regularity of your conduct, that the coldness and 
 inattention which you have sometimes observed 
 in my behavior, has been better calculated to 
 highten your affection than the reverse. I shall 
 not again take occasion to complain of " indiffer- 
 ence and neglect," but ponder my unhappy fate 
 in silence, and lock my sorrows in my lonely, 
 restless bosom. Your confidence I fear I have 
 never possessed but in part; the cause I can not 
 fully comprehend, but the unhappy effect I now 
 most sensibly realize. Can yon remain unaffected 
 at this? Has not tbe time actually arrived that 
 I may with propriety complain of the falseness 
 of men and the vanity of all human expectation ? 
 and would it be strange if at this time groans of 
 anguish should break from my heart in sorrow 
 for my credulity ? More than three years now 
 have elapsed since the commencement of our 
 correspondence. I think it now high time to 
 conclude, and say it shall be otherwise, and 
 pursue if not a happier a different course. Me- 
 chinks the heart has now somewhat to do. But 
 I forbear, and would at least indulge this thought 
 for consolation, that ere long time may erase from 
 my unhappy memory those sad reflections on my 
 former flattering prospects. 
 
 Should this find you contemiDlating new scenes 
 for enjoyment, let not the thought of my disquie- 
 tude abate the ardor of your pursuit. 
 
 Please to burn this letter (when you have suf- 
 ficiently perused it) with tbe others you have re- 
 ceived from me, and in so doing perhaps the 
 words of another will apply: " Thus perish every 
 memento of my affection for M — a." The letters 
 which I have received from you shall be kept 
 f-afe until something further — unlike or like a 
 last. Farewell. M. Fox. 
 
 KORTEIGHT, Nov. loth, 1814. 
 
 Miss Maria Pox : 
 
 My Dear Girl : I have received your letter of 
 the 10th October. Your patience, I discover, 
 lias at last forsaken you. I can not say I am 
 surprised at it, but rather wonder you have en- 
 dured my strange humor so long. I fear my 
 whimsical letters (though when written were not 
 intended to disgust) have been rather calculated 
 to estrange than secure your affections ; and am 
 also apprehensive that the frequent disappoint- 
 ments have had a like tendency. 
 
 My promises have been so often made and re- 
 newed, that I tliink another would bear no weight 
 with j'ou ; and, there'bre, have not the boldness 
 to communicate what (before I received your 
 letter) I had in contemplation. 
 
 I have been meditating no new scenes for en- 
 joyment, nor do I enjoy a moment of present 
 
 satisfaction. Amusements, recreations, have no 
 charms for me, because I have no one — that is, I 
 have not her whoso presence alone can give a 
 relish to entertainments — to partake them with 
 me. Separate pleasures are, for mo, no pleasures 
 at all. 
 
 Although my mind has by turns been harassed 
 by doubts and fears, which were the occasion of 
 those letters, the existence of which I so much 
 deplore, yet my affection has imdergone no 
 change, nor once varied from its point. Was I 
 not ashamed to ask further indulgence, perhaps 
 I could give reasons which yourself would not 
 disdain to hear. But it can not be. You have 
 been so long and so frequently perplexed with 
 delays on my account, that my soul rises indig- 
 nant at the thought of asking further. Three 
 years ! it seems to me hke an eternity. 
 
 If, then, you are determined to continue this 
 correspondence no longer, not even till I see you 
 again, (which would be in the spring,) you must 
 at least write once more, and inlorm me of j'our 
 final determination. Then, if j^ou say there must 
 be an end, and you wish to have your letters 
 committed to the flames, you must command me, 
 audit shall be done; but there must be some- 
 thing more than a bare request, or I can not 
 obey. 
 
 Must all our hopes be blasted ? Will affection, 
 such as we have mutually professed, with the 
 blessings of Heaven, be productive of no enjoy- 
 ment ? Sincerity ! disinterested love ! where 
 hast thou fled ? 
 
 Young ladies in the ardency of their pursuits, 
 and their peaceful security at home, can not make 
 allowances for the perplexities of business to 
 which we are liable in times when our country is 
 convulsed with wars, and ourselves liable to be 
 called for, at the will of our executives, to leave 
 our homes and go to defend our country. My- 
 self, though I did not go, was obliged to pay 
 dear for the privilege of staying at home. 
 
 Your last letter, I must take the liberty of tell- 
 ing you, was exceedingly well composed. The 
 style and arrangement I could not but admh'e. 
 I am sorry you had to employ your pen upon so 
 sorrowful a subject. 
 
 Do not be cast down, but be cheerful ; for that 
 is more becoming than either melancholy or ex- 
 cessive gayetJ^ Who knows but after all this 
 we may be happy ? Once more adieu. 
 
 R. Little. 
 
 I next copy some lines written for a friend of the 
 lovers, from whose cori'espondenco I have thus far 
 extracted, with a view to calling out some ideas 
 relevant to my present purpose. They were 
 from the pen of him who, in later years, became 
 mine, by God's own institution — him in whose 
 history I have been made to feel the truth which 
 others read : " If, therefore, the light that is in 
 thee be darkness, how great is that darkness ?" 
 
 " Flora, the Goddess of Flowers, was elegantly 
 drawn in embroidery, by a young lady in Con- 
 necticut, as leaving her summer-house, to take a 
 walk in the adjoining fields of flowers. On 
 which occasion the following lines were written 
 and communicated by her friend : 
 
 " Behold ! young Flora leaves her green alcove, 
 All over.'ipreacl with woodbines fresh and gay, 
 "While airy pleasures dance, her head above, 
 To charm the mistress to a longer stay. 
 
A MOTIIKIl's I'KACK OFKKUING. 
 
 
 St 
 
 
 • ■ ■ : I ; 1«. 
 
 .1 ht-r caloi rviroBi. 
 
 ' ■■' • • '• " ■' • ^ no 
 
 Uiry, or, p- 1 ■••d, 
 
 WOUliI f.fti" . :itjr 
 
 •. .1) w V. uixl 
 
 \ 
 
 ' >in 8})u would 
 
 .-*■•■.•" ■.• ■, A lioW<T.. 
 
 \i i.-i 
 
 Irmi iiviiiph u'Iraiicc — 
 
 All • !>a- 
 .'irii'd Ipjni n letter to faia tncnd about that 
 
 As l> the uiiai) oi tier whu Urrir tlic scene. 
 
 -tajr; 
 
 .iiraj. 
 
 ' JCreo lo with man ; were one to rhoo«c on earth 
 
 Tl,. I. ,i.r, .'■,: ■,'.....' lUL.I '!,, r.' I,. I i.lliw.l 
 
 I think that what I Imru alrendy copied from 
 
 till' iirmii- ri;': I lii'M. will allow you, that with 
 
 t ) tmo merit, the parties 
 
 ' >n <■> walk and talk to- 
 
 siK'h a result, 
 
 in matters of 
 
 \ " ' t I coii- 
 
 out, dcs- 
 
 of 
 
 in to prevent t 
 
 rt to heart. It n ■ mh- 
 
 iuy own viow, where lay ^ tuada- 
 
 in the foundation of the house into 
 
 history was to become so inti- 
 
 " Irama wna tl..-. oHo?t daughtornf u r.-]io. table 
 
 fanner in t' M . i od 
 
 5tiii \va<» T' r nativ(> "^i itvl 
 
 »t>ly, and lu tii.'iUUi.l hvr m lui," ui>.-l'iii branches of 
 lit"rntMr»^. ?!<'r mirvl \V4'» •>!•;•!>!>• niri rnpnM" of 
 
 Dear Sir: I imairioo I can see tou strolling 
 
 ■ • •' ■ •' - ' ....-•- •..,^^^. 
 
 et, 
 . '- , 'en- 
 
 ity ot soul, liiiii :«(<<», you 
 
 can onjoy ; )rv ,o. You 
 
 know my r- > you bo- 
 
 Here it ? . ., if evor. 
 
 "ion 
 I 
 . ... not 
 .. >n a mo- 
 or Mr. A , or uuy ouo lir^i- ihuu luv. liiil you 
 
 evor ovj>Arifn'-« nny jIim't of the kind? If you 
 1 me. All the satin- 
 
 ■1 in rcadinir Thom- 
 .■,^... -..<-. i.;. I 11 11 .1 i.w 1.1 A swain: and that is 
 no satisfaction, but a kind of 8ym])aihy. Adieu. 
 
 Thus fcarioff her affictions wore gcttiii^^ •»• 
 tranfjed from him, Aleidas resolved to make the 
 fair Irama a formd visit, and learn, if be could, the 
 situation of her mind. 
 
 Ho acco' ■ ' . .V •■ .1 - 
 
 ptirposc. ( 
 
 was not n I.. ..„ 
 
 bte hours, but c ild 
 
 have avoided it i not 
 
 coijlined him every aiuriiuou at ':en 
 ho arrivod, there wa.'» a .vr>-.ine pnl 
 
 queiieo uf liiu rwuil of his lir.^t 
 a'tnolj no pnrtlcnlar hl.'jmp to !')■ 
 
 liueuLcd t 
 reader, bv 
 
 of h 
 kind I 
 stand l.i^ 
 suitable. I 
 
 
 To say 
 
 :! b" .1p- 
 
 
 ui evury 
 ts whirh V. 
 
 
 d the mind of 
 
 tor 
 
 :i a 
 .ke 
 not 
 •;iP. 
 ;!>e- 
 uld 
 ibe 
 he 
 A 
 
 I. • N»W 
 
 \- to call 
 
 : 1 . she 
 
 she fe;ut;d Al- 
 
 ! ; nrA a few 
 
 ■ther 
 
 tot 
 
 his 
 
 ino 
 
 ..U when Lvr yi-ar.s W'Tl- 
 apnv »'» 1>^ rnnkf'i n» on«» 
 
 iho liberty 
 to (jn I!, 
 
 
 
 •aie 
 
 
 
 ...Q- 
 
 
 
 •ck 
 
 > •! bUo ViOulvl 
 
 U- ; 
 
 . .—i 
 
 w.n, (0)0 di<l 
 
 11. • 
 
 lid 
 
 ike. 
 .to 
 .or. 
 
 i.ut 
 
 She w.td nut wholly tUi^emublo oi Aic-idas' inten- was iiirlcd awuy, and Wa^i, ui iht course of tho 
 
30 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 evening's entertaiumeut, accused of being an in- 
 truder. Sucb an accusation, coming from the 
 object of his affections, was too mortifying to be 
 calmly endured ; but as he had at all times the 
 command of himself, lie let it pass without any 
 seeming notice ; but not without a severer strug- 
 gle within than can be easily painted. The even- 
 ing passed. Alcidas walked home with Irama's 
 sister, saw his rival conducted into the parlor, and 
 took ins leave. When he got home he retired to 
 his bed, but not to rest. He felt all the anguish 
 M^hich disappointment and jealousy can give. 
 The rankUng in his bosom could not be surpassed, 
 but by 'the horrors of ghosts in the regions of 
 eternal misery. Sleep did not visit liim to calm 
 his disordered mind. At the break of day he 
 heard riding by his successful rival ; he had fin- 
 ished his night's collation of love, and taken his 
 leave. 
 
 Alcidas (who once hoped to gain the entire 
 affection of Irama, and be the first and only one 
 who should breathe sighs of adoration in her 
 tender ear, who had hoped to encircle in his 
 arms and fold to his enamored bosom a form that 
 no one else had so caressed, and draw nectar 
 from a lip whicli "had never been sighed on by 
 any but him") was now almost in despair. One 
 week only passed before another devotee came 
 to offer up his devotion at the altar of the god- 
 dess. His prayers also were heard. This was 
 
 Mr. B , who had the good fortune to ingratiate 
 
 himself into the good graces of Irama, and con- 
 tinued his visits some time after those of his pre- 
 decessor were rejected. It seemed as if she was 
 intent on making a conquest of every heart. 
 
 Alcidas all this while was drowned in grief. 
 He possessed a certain spirit which forbade him 
 to interfere in the contest for a heart which it 
 appeared hundreds might be permitted to share. 
 
 At length all was again calm to appearance. 
 Orlando (for so I style the successful suppliant) 
 had left the place and was residing at a consider- 
 able distance ; though as it appeared afterwards, 
 he had engaged to pay another visit to Irama, 
 and went away without her knowledge under 
 this engagement. This being unknown to Alci- 
 das, he supposed that their addresses were all 
 discountenanced by Irama, and by her rejected. 
 Therefore, after a suitable time had elapsed, 
 Alcidas, loth to give over his pursuit, concluded 
 once more to wait on the charming Irama ; asked 
 her if he might be permitted to spend a few hours 
 in her company; she had no particular objec- 
 tions; he thanked her, and the time was spent 
 agreeably ; though in consequence of wliat had 
 transpired, he was too much embarrassed to 
 make a declaration of what ho most wished her 
 to know. The second visit some small disclosure 
 was made, though a partial one. 
 
 A continuance of the visits was requested. 
 She would grant one more. He was too gener- 
 ous to ask why she said one more, knowing that 
 if she put a stop to his addresses it would not be 
 without a reason, and what that reason was, he 
 was determined not to insist on her to communi- 
 cate. But previous to the time appointed for the 
 next interview, Orlando (who had then been ab- 
 sent about six months) returned, and was again 
 received into the favor of Irama ; had one inter- 
 view, in the course of which he, after expressing 
 his admiration of the charmer, asked her if she 
 would marry him. 
 
 Irama (who in the course of eight months had 
 received the addresses of three different suitors) 
 was amazed at the idea of marriage ; a propo- 
 sition of that nature shocked her ; it would seem 
 she had never before thought of it, and knew not 
 what reply to make. But being urged by him 
 who had now got the complete ascendency over 
 her heart, she consented to give him an answer 
 in two weeks. She was laboring in her mind 
 what answer to give her adored Orlando, when 
 she received a letter from Alcidas, upbraiding 
 her for the admission of another suitor while she 
 was receiving visits from him ; that if she was 
 under obligation to Orlando, she did wrong in 
 receiving his visits without letting him know that 
 such engagement existed ; that he was too proud 
 to contend with a rival ; that the regard he had 
 professed for her was founded on sincerity, and 
 therefore would not bear to be trifled with ; that 
 he should still be pleased to continue his addresses 
 if he could without interruption, but could not 
 think of sharing affection with another, and de- 
 sired a line in answer from her the next morning. 
 She did not take the trouble of answering, and 
 for what reason she better knew than Alcidas. 
 
 Poor girl — she was waiting with anxiety for 
 the two weeks to expire, when her happiness was 
 to be crowned by jiromising her hand in mar- 
 riage to the doting Orlando. But alas ! the 
 time expired, and the youth did not appear. She 
 never saw him more. He left the place again, 
 and after a while she heard he was married. 
 "Who can conceive the mortification of Irama 
 when the time agreed on was passed, and her 
 lover did not come? She alone who felt it can 
 tell. 
 
 -Alcidas, not knowing what had transpired be- 
 tween the two lovers, again called on Irama. It 
 was a week after the time set for her to give an 
 answer to Orlando. She appeared, as must be 
 supposed, low-spirited, and gave Alcidas a cold 
 consent to spend a few hours in his company, in 
 the course of which the following conversation 
 took place : 
 
 " You did not think proper to give an answer 
 to my letter the other day, Irama." 
 
 "No, I thought it not worth while, though I 
 don't know but I should have written if there 
 had been a convenient opportunity of sending tlio 
 next morning." 
 
 " Did you notice a sheet of letter paper I sent 
 by your pa, done up in a roll with his ?" 
 
 '• Yes, and knew what it meant." 
 
 " And then would not write?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " I have been sorry I wrote it, thinking it was 
 not my business to dictate to you wiiat and how 
 much company to keep ; but you ought to be 
 your own judge, or if at a loss ask your ma." 
 
 " I thought you would repent." 
 
 " Though I am still of the same mind respect- 
 ing the contents that I then was, I would never 
 wish to keep company with a young woman 
 while she is receiving the addresses of another. 
 What answer should you have sent mo in case 
 you had written ?" 
 
 " I do not know ; it was such a tiling it would 
 be difficult to answer it at all. I would not have 
 you think I am going to be confined to one ; I 
 never was." 
 
 This drew a sigh from the bosom of Alcidas. 
 He sat for some time without speaking, and was 
 
A MOTHKKS PEACE OFFEIUN*; 
 
 11 
 
 ost in lliouffht TTo at looRth wwumod tho con- I Provlouii however, to hU departure, on tlio 
 
 it iiii(rtit 
 
 tllttl lii<nlf<iil it' MIU was illrt, li 
 
 hiT. !wi'l wnt">li "vor li'«r witli 
 
 Tears wo 
 
 '^iutl U> 
 : it even 
 ■\ M.iw on luT wr' 
 .nilent, nnd him- 
 
 inc<l invoh 
 vcric, Alcii! 
 
 ll.cif 
 
 tlio door, nnd as ho was oUicr ~ 
 i'.irewfll, Irnma" .soonuHl t. ■ 
 
 in her eyes, observing I BiRliinsr on 
 
 / 
 
 i 
 .0 
 
 a 
 
 fioinlpd lovo ail 
 
 ij, and l-A\ dlaap- 
 female prido tlio 
 
 aho hiid iriiii-il M . 
 
 ••li Willi ili 
 1. wna tit 
 
 r- 
 
 ..3 
 
 ::0 
 
 .of 
 
 i<uiiluriiig o.i uifliiiidioly. lio v.iia ro- 
 I'V thf fair onp with miioli wi'mina: apita- 
 
 ■•■'.' -led 
 
 :it 
 i- 
 
 lioU lUld na 
 
 .id ov'ur hiiu. 
 
 • 1 this fif^emooa, 
 
 .d 
 
 a 
 
 3 
 
 .... I )f mini I 
 very part 
 
 wojj vcrv 
 would uwt 
 
 Ik' lirkd t<>r.sai\cii iir 
 (wlmf sb" nifrht 
 
 ■r eiilirtly. T 
 
 profusion, 
 to draw fnv 
 
 thousand wdfIcLx ; 
 him ; and tho 9-.V' 
 tiun;natod by mi.\:ii;; w,::: 
 for II I ono who •ko'ivt.'-' t 
 promises which he docs ii<>i i;ir i 
 >ireath<? a breath but what is foul. 
 
 ^■olwtu wliicii hu wuuld 
 
 .t. 
 
 was : "It has bo«n so this long time." This, ho 
 
12 
 
 A MOTH Eli ri PEACE OFFERIXG. 
 
 was convinced, was an untruth, and says : " Has it 
 not been done since yesterday ?" Irama, abaslied, 
 knowing tliat ho did not credit what she had said, 
 8ud fearing the consequences of persisting in the 
 deception, answered: "I call that long ago." 
 
 Now was the mind of Alcidas put to the tor- 
 lure. Now had tlie time come to put in practice 
 bis resolve of the evening before. He hesitated. 
 He sat awhile motionless and confounded. His 
 judgment, his reason, and his sense of honor so- 
 licited his immediate departure. But Love, all- 
 powerful Love, assisted by a few tender words 
 from the charmer — these entreated him to stay, 
 and these prevailed. 
 
 From this time, Alcidas knew not peace of 
 mind. He found the object of His aflections was 
 not his real friend, although she professed the 
 warmest attachment. He found she had endeav- 
 ored to practice a deception upon him ; and, to 
 carry it into effect, had, in his opinion, been guilty 
 of telling a falsehood ; and yet, such was bis 
 weakness, that he could not withstand the torrent 
 of love. He had no resolution of his own that 
 was not subservient to the tender passion. 
 
 His attention and their intimacy have ever 
 since been continued, though it has now been 
 several years; and several promises of marriage 
 have in the time been made — times set — but in- 
 stead of fulfillment has been delay after delay. 
 Her conduct has been such as Alcidas could not 
 approve ot^ — she has dealt in mysteries and prac- 
 ticed deception. She has seemed to try to obtain 
 liim rather by stratagem than by merit ; and he 
 has continued so long that he finds it difficult to 
 recede. 
 
 Irama, a while since, fioding she could not well 
 avoid its being known to him, informed liim of 
 what had passed between Orlando and herself, as 
 has been before related, namely, his request to 
 marry her, and her promise to give him answer 
 in two weeks — and added that he would never 
 pro.aper. 
 
 Wliat will be the result of this long-continued 
 intimacy is impossible to tell, but the prospects 
 at present are bj' no means favorable to a happy 
 union. 
 
 Had Irama's conduct, when first entering into 
 the world, been watched and guided by a discreet 
 mother; had she been taught to practice freedom 
 instead of craft, and propriety instead of indis- 
 cretion, then she might have been an ornament 
 to society, and the happy companion of the then 
 happy Alcidas." 
 
 The above transcribed article is without date ; 
 but its face shows that it was written late in the 
 day of the courtship which drew it forth, and 
 probably during a season when the author's mind 
 was ''harassed with doubts and fears," or "bor- 
 dering on melancholy." 
 
 The fact that it ivas vrrUfen, and kept in parcel 
 with the correspondence alluded to, and a part of 
 which I have already copied, during the married 
 life of her who was the object of so much solici- 
 tude, tells to the wise observer, what the author 
 could not see in himself, that the " all-powerful 
 Love" to which he yielded, had greater respect 
 10 the peace of the single bosom it then moved, 
 than to that of hers it sought to win. 
 
 1 can say in behalf of (the so-called) Irama, 
 that her accuser admitted to me, that she ever 
 insisted that she would not have consented to 
 marry Orlando, had he called for her answer. 
 
 I will also add here, v/hat this same Alcidas 
 stated to me verbally, namely, that v>'hen he 
 asked her father's consent to the marriage, he told 
 her father that he did not expect to bo happy 
 with his daughter. But so long had the union 
 been contemplated, that to go forward was 
 thought better than to recede. 
 
 The marriage was cc4ebrated on the 6th day of 
 July, 1815, and Mr. Little soon after came to this 
 town, (Sheffield, Mass.,) and bought out (as the 
 expression is) his cousin Amasa Wright, mer- 
 chant. 
 
 To this place he removed his bride, and here 
 the earth- work of her married life was performed ; 
 here her matrimonial joys and sorrows partaken : 
 and here she calmly met her summons to go forth 
 and meet the heavenly Bridegroom. 
 
 She died of consumption, leaving, with a so- 
 licitude none but a mother knows, six children, 
 four sons and two daughters. Three sons had 
 ]3receded her to the spirit-world. I was not a 
 guest at her house during her life, but had met 
 her elsewhere, and she hud impressed me as be- 
 ing a perfect pattern of womanhood. In no other 
 person, was I ever made to see more clearly the 
 true beauty of an evidently meek and quiet spirit. 
 
 I next perform the painful duty of copying two 
 later articles from the pen of Mr. Little, found in 
 the bundle I have already opened. One, and I 
 presume the earlier of the two, is without date. 
 It reads as foUows : 
 
 Dear Sir : Inasmuch as you request my 
 opinion upon this subject, I will endeavor to give 
 it, although I fear it will be done in rather a bung- 
 ling manner. "Women, I think, many of them, 
 are apt to be very inconsiderate, and oftentimes 
 act without just motives, and without regard of 
 what consequences may follovv. They will in- 
 dulge their foolish whims, and persevere in so 
 doing when they must know (if they are capable 
 of reasoning) that what they are doing is preju- 
 dicial to their own happiness, and must inevitably 
 prove fatal to the welfare and happiness of their 
 tamily. What nameless propensity is it tliat 
 draws them on? Alas! I know not. 
 
 They get married, mean their husbands shall 
 love and adore them ; why, then, do they not en- 
 deavor by every means in their power to make 
 themselves agreeable to them, and bend their 
 affections ? A child would not expect by dash- 
 ing snow upon the fire to increase the flame. 
 They can expect no happiness in the mairied 
 state without the esteem and tender regard 
 of their husbands. Wbj', then, do they not try 
 to retain them ? They have the means in their 
 hands, and still let those means lie dormant, and 
 tamper with others to bring about their purposes, 
 which they have no power to use to any effect. 
 When a man marries, he takes upon himself a 
 very great incumbrance. This is the case iu 
 general, let his wife be what she may. Why, then, 
 ought he not in reason to expect some partial 
 compensation? What compensation, then, does he 
 receive whose wife, at the first small error she- 
 discovers in his conduct, will take miff, and re- 
 fuse to speak or sit with him at table ? Who is 
 almost continually out of humor because she 
 imagines she has not deference enough paid her? 
 Sometimes grumbling, sometimes pouting for days 
 together, seldom ever speaking good-naturedly. 
 Who scorns to do him so much honor as to pro- 
 nounce his name with her lips ; despises to aak 
 
A MOTMKRS I'KAC'E OKKERINO. 
 
 13 
 
 ^ any thing of iiiin as a favor 
 much liko condfflconaion. \\ 
 aaj, ha.s i\ rriHO with H<ich a wii* . 
 
 to bo iri'!';«'.rirni», pr'iHt'n', nrA >• 
 
 ^d to the house two weokfi br a 
 
 r iriil !i/';<-. I"/, it ii^w l'< tt!ng 
 
 ii<aL 
 
 '.• know 
 
 L Act 
 
 - hia 
 
 ..la 
 
 8(m) Homt-tl 
 
 It to the 
 
 'jO 
 
 of 
 
 ■;.y 
 
 ita 
 
 ■ nt 
 
 h 
 
 nts.x, ti wi'iiYiiiii' hi« retom with a Btnilo of «»ni- 
 plaocncy ? In >•!. 
 perl lier to use \ ; 
 
 wile, hu IS •: '. .'inil must spend bis daya i ^^^'^ '•''* ►• 
 
 in misorj «• ^rol, ' preastd ton 
 
 A man w!.o L. „-.:.. s the world with 
 ."Ihinir. and i*" dtt^irous v( ri-mc t<i ho r 
 
 t i-ave them 
 Tf:f» rpfts-in 
 
 Mondrtv Mom. 
 
 ' ' ■ 1 let bim 
 
 Ih iihe 
 
 oh I mj 
 
 She i« 
 
 T %rould 
 
 I ■ ■ -■ • ■•■ ; ■. -■ 
 
 ol ou<«incH<t which ho haa almoat daily to en- 
 mm'cT. '^tioiild 8ometimc9 dniw a gloim over 
 ' Mco, or n coutrnctinn tipun liia brow. 
 
 'i ■or with a pi-^rver-'p. unxociiible wife, 
 
 i-th. Hgmusi 
 —put on the 
 
 £-1.. . ■■ ■■•- I -■• •■■■TUt 
 
 fliuk I • r-r 
 
 can a as 
 
 mined timt of in - : d family 1 Tiicre- 
 
 fnrf I "ty -he ni-i> ■ y and regardless of 
 
 <• -■ or si,..' w o:M endeavor, at leaat, to 
 
 J r own happineaa. 
 
 I'i.u oiiivf article alluded to is a letter to a sis- 
 ter of Mn». I.ittl" aud reads Ihua: 
 
 Sunday Rre, 19 Oct. 1831. 
 Mn>. \ Palmer: J^lster ErstCK : I 
 
 am loo uii.Vcll to write, but I have a favor to 
 aak of von, and •<» mn hnpo in hich heaven, I 
 
 cl ■ ■■••■■ ■ . . • 
 
 I ^ ,..>;. . r .' 
 
 Till uio uil — aiid Ha buoa ad vuu imve rvad this, 
 write, and let not a night paaa befor*» yr-M hsv« 
 it mailed. S ly not there is no > • 
 •end. Hire S'lmo one to go on p'lrj' 
 tomorrow will do as well; wo ku'A 
 to-morrow will bring forth. And if i' 
 npvi r be in my power to reward you, I , 
 a may. 
 
 .h and the gmre. my denr »f*tef. nr»» rfiH 
 u.i'.Lcd. You hav. 
 Uuth of this by ; 
 
 mother. I have air^i u ^t'/ 1 it. lu.n kim-.v wmu 
 it i?. But there are other aftlictiona more cruel 
 Ihnn death. 
 
 I cao not write particulars now. Lucius has 
 
 This letter, be who wrote it irform«H n* was 
 
 ■r>e 
 
 -- ii- 
 
 ttteiy to her. 
 
 This first visit, without her husband, to the 
 home and scenes of hor childhood, was her last. 
 
 Her husband's opinion was. that aho took a 
 
 cold on ' . : ' ' ii.e 
 
 wear • or 
 
 eighty; ..... ., ., ; ty, 
 
 caused a tatal disease to begin its ravages in her 
 syBtem. 
 
 In sixteen months from the time of her last 
 visit to tho home of her birth, was her rit^tdal of 
 life completely demolished : her v ' life 
 
 finished : and on Sabbath, Feb. : < r 
 
 m-" • — • ■ ■ ■- !- ' •■■ - ■ • ■" •■ , I.. i!s 
 
 t that, as 
 
 . .ird our 
 1 pa^iior, ^Mr. Braiiloru) deliver a funeral 
 ., after his own nhlr m-ita-cr. ov^r the 
 loiUu of one into v. . > i 
 
 enter, (although i- ) 
 
 how my heart then in'ai lo un.- w,i.iKii' lu "i me 
 poet: 
 
 '■ gwret I* (bo iiccnc whon Chrinti <"• '■- 
 >Vlieo boljr aouU retire to rest. 
 
 ' ' ■ ■ -•- h 
 
 :.t 
 
 of 
 w t 
 
 «• I s 
 
 s'wi be 
 * It is 
 
 <I i shall ret>. 
 
 i-::^ ..p --..: .. -, and ever!.-. ...^ j 
 
 upon ihoir head: they shall obtain g 
 
14 
 
 A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 and joy ; and sorrow and mourning shall flee 
 away." This was as a letter from a Friend, whom 
 having not seen, she had loved, and who had 
 gone to his Father's house to prepare a mansion 
 lor her, that he might come and receive her unto 
 himself. That he did not leave her comfortless, 
 I have the fullest assurance from personal obser- 
 vation. The May before her death, accident 
 threw me into her society for an hour or two, 
 and on returning to my father's house, I re- 
 marked: "I have not so much enjoyed a con- 
 versation upon the subject of personal experi- 
 mental religion, for years past, ps in my inter- 
 view this afternoon with Mrs. Little." ' 
 
 Neither Mrs. Little nor her husband were in 
 connection with a Christian church. They were 
 regular in their attendance upon public worship, 
 and adorned the community in which they moved, 
 hj well-ordered lives and pure conversation. 
 
 It was told me, that Mr. Little, on the afternoon 
 of the day his wife had been buried, invited two 
 deacons of the church into bis home, and asked 
 them to engage in prayer, after which he himself 
 led in audible prayer. This is the fir.st reported 
 instance, to my knowledge, saying of him, as 
 of one of old : "Behold he prayetb." Did the 
 angel just emerged from its clay so soon beckon 
 lim to follow? And must ho enter upon new 
 fcenes of struggle and of strife with whatever 
 should oppose his progress to a long-sought Eden 
 of rest ? Let us trace his course, and form our 
 judgment from whatever is discoverable by the 
 way. I had spent the winter of 1835-G in 
 Egremont in the family of an aunt, taking the 
 duties of her eldest daughter to give the daughter 
 opportunity to go from home to attend school. 
 This I did, believing ihat health demanded a 
 longer suspension from the labors of teaching 
 than I had secured for the Lst five years. In 
 early spring Mr. Little sent a rf quest that I 
 would teach the school in the district of his resi- 
 dence. Soon after I commenced said school, I 
 boarded in his family, where I saw the truth of 
 what rumor had before told, namely, a lack of 
 salutary discipline, in a family where the selfish 
 passions were strong and active. 
 
 Mr. Little told me, while boarding in his fam- 
 ily, he would be glad to have me board there 
 through the season, that his two daughters, one 
 eight years of age, and the other twelve, might 
 have the benefit of my counsel. But I perceived, 
 during the two weeks of my stay, that no counsel 
 which opposed their wi-hes was of any avail, 
 other than to make them more determintd in 
 their course ; and as I could not well expre-js 
 this opinion to the ruler of the liouse, I passed on 
 in my accustomed way, dividing the burden and 
 the benefits of boarding the teacher, among all 
 those upon whom I had claim. A woman of 
 good abilities, who had reared a family of her 
 own, had charge of household affairs from before 
 Mrs. Little's death until a mother-in-law was in- 
 stated. She had long been in the practice of 
 caring and doing for the sick from house to house, 
 but said she had never before met an instance 
 whore the man was so much a stranger in his 
 own house, or took so little cognizance of the 
 proceedings there, either by children or servants, 
 as Mr. Little. I mention this, to show that it 
 v:slS a field more than ordinarily open to a class 
 of workers styled " busybodies in others' mat- 
 ters." 
 
 Now, I am not going to stone this clasp, lest, 
 in so doing, I hurt myself; but I do feel called 
 upon to show to others how God hath rebuked 
 this sin before my e3'es. In doing this, I shall 
 be under the necessity of telling of faults com- 
 mitted at home, but outside of my own house, 
 among my own townsmen and townswomen. 
 My remarks will be as a " bow at a venture," 
 because I am so fortunate as not to have had 
 named to me, one of the "cloud of witnesses" 
 against me. 
 
 In the prosecution of my work, I may seem to 
 occupy the position of one bearing witness of 
 self; a thing which, even in the case of the Sou 
 of God, is not to be received as true, unless cor- 
 roborated by other testimony. Like that divine 
 personage, I shall need have recourse to the 
 works which I have done, and to the Father's 
 bearing witness of me. Not that I have wrought 
 miracles, or that God hath, by miracle, interposed 
 in my behalf. I conceive that the recorded mira- 
 cles of God's word were designed to substantiate 
 the irv.th of that vjord, and to show the nature of 
 the works which that word is designed to effect 
 (though in a more slow and gradual way than by 
 miracle) wheresoever it ia trusted. I believe 
 that, when the beloved John had finished the 
 book containing that word, the age of mii'acles 
 was past. But the age when God shall give hia 
 Holy Spirit to them that ask him, will only be 
 finished when time is no more. 
 
 I believe that the Holy Spirit is to the soul of 
 man what the atmosphere is to his body ; that 
 the latter is given, unsought, to mortal man ; that 
 the new-creative influences of the former, to him 
 who has come to an age for doing business with God 
 (so to speak,) is only had by asking, with suit- 
 able deference to the Proprietor, and to the busi- 
 ness rules he has laid down. Therefore, if any 
 who shall feel disposed to peruse this letter, are 
 rejecting Moses and the prophets, my argument 
 is not with tJiem, inasmuch as such would not 
 believe, were one to arise from the dead and 
 address them. 
 
 But that I may, if possible, assist yourself and 
 others of my friends who admit the Bible as a 
 whole to be the voice of God to man, to read 
 with me the truth, that / U7n blessed because / 
 have truiied, I proceed to the second chapter 
 of my epistle, which will contain the second 
 courtship and marriage of my physically stronger 
 self, with its results, so tar as time has yet 
 unfolded these results. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 SECTIOK I. 
 
 Ix this, as in the former chapter, I shall have 
 recourse to transcribing from written records 
 providentially in my possession. 
 
 I will state in this place, that my marriage to 
 Mr Little was celebrated at my father's house, 
 on Wednesday the 12th of April, 1837, at six p.m., 
 in the presence of some fifty or sixty friends 
 assembled on the occasion. It was one of April's 
 brightest days; not a cloud intercepted the sun's 
 cheering rays throughout our visible heavens 
 The air was balmy, and hearts were gladdened 
 at the near approach of a new resurrection to 
 
A MCyrilEHS PEACK OFFERING. 
 
 15 
 
 life, whicli should clothe Uie cnrth wilh freshnoM 
 and beauty, although then onljr robed wilh 
 
 •* \Vllhor«<l Ic«Tci >nil flowrrleM iUlki ;" 
 
 itiii.H hightvoing by cotiinuit tlio loveliooai of all 
 abfjvo. 
 
 '= - — ^••- - ' ■ '■ ivo boon 
 
 lit iimio, 
 
 .,„;, . , :i U.» the I 
 
 but, liial what wus H|>okon out uf 
 
 I CO of tt)0 lionrt duriIl^' lliis iin|KirUi:il ' 
 
 (xiioJ, should bo r|>okoD tliruudili the medium of 
 
 iho pen railier than iho tonirue, when iho )>uru<-s > 
 
 each other faoo to 
 
 oxceptiou. 1q thin 
 
 - of 183i5, Mr. Lilllo 
 
 ;r pa-jtor,) to m'licit 
 
 ttiu uuijiiik)! ot hiniHvll nud lady in reference to 
 
 hi* duty tn hi'* family. They udviaed him to 
 
 I. and fpoko of tnjself as in their 
 
 j UeU to till the " vncant ciiair" in hia 
 
 '■• ' • ! to doing good. Of 
 
 r I hud uoceplod the 
 c - 1 council, lioing ro- 
 
 turui-d tVuin dcuooI one attomooii, and scaled 
 with n circle of ladiea in the parlor uf Mrs. Uar- 
 V .Vugujila, jouugeitt ditughler of Mr. 
 
 I to the dojr, and handed too the fol- 
 
 ium ;i :.- U' >tf ; 
 
 SiiErriELD, Friday, 12ih Aug. 183G. 
 
 ^' ■' vs: I liare aoen your paronls to-day. 
 
 .. -d me to inf>rHi you that they expect 
 
 coni;'iiny to-morrow, (Mr. Ciiriia and lady from 
 
 tiio \Vt;:<l,) and would like to have you come 
 
 > ■ ■ ■■■' '■■"'■■ '•■■ " "■■■'• n.u aa you are will- 
 
 ^ lo bo considerably 
 fiiXH^'cd lu iii<i work, I engaged to see you 
 
 bOM)'.'. 
 
 Itihi.-* arrangement meet your approbation, bo 
 k:;iil tiio'u-ii to 1ft me know by Augusta where 
 you will I.', and what litno you wi.xh to go. 
 I am, moat respectfully, 
 
 R. LiTTLK. 
 
 I did not send word by Augusta, and next 
 
 morning Augusta aimo again, bringing word 
 
 that her brother Ilobert wfiuld take me to my 
 
 :. r school, a: ' .'.nt was 
 
 A few i: -net Mr. 
 
 ......o 1 WM b.>.i.>.i..^ .....>, .,.ih some 
 
 -it embarraaament, apologized for the note 
 
 I iiad not opportunity to explain, as I dt-aired, 
 and therefore penned the following note: 
 
 Sept lat, 1S36. 
 
 Mn. LiTT" ' •■ ■>-■••■'■ •' -t apology was 
 not liiul I..I. ■ ray silence at 
 
 liio liiu^ sp ;ig. 
 
 Augusta wont to piay whiio I was .speaking 
 with Iho ladies prcirnt I wailotl t-i d<r: !-> nt 
 what timo i ■ 
 and found - 
 
 ng. 
 
 circunisiances unatr which u:i i x\ 
 ity or au act of kindness will bo i: 
 
 have aceii it ho in relation to othera, and wiah to 
 avoid o<"c*Hion f<>r r. fii,>rK- 
 
 I am Horry to n: isibie of my obligt- 
 
 tioim to friends n:. : '^ 
 
 I'loaM overlook wi<a: I'T wrong. 
 
 !'.» - )uni, 
 
 L. J. RoT.s. 
 
 Th. - toachorn 
 
 to b.' days of 
 
 each w ,., >^ • i...^/»h. 
 
 iiig six days of one week, ii xt. 
 It was my cuttom to go to i; . »y, 
 a'lor sclux)', every second wwk.. My Uthor 
 came for me on Friday ; and while he was mak- 
 ing (tome purchases at ilr. Litth'a store, Mr. L 
 handed hiu) the following note: 
 
 Miss Roys: I hop© for the happiness of see- 
 ing you at your father'n, lo-morrow. at al>oul nin- 
 
 o'clock A.M. 
 
 2d Sept. 
 
 L. called, accordinsr to appointment I met 
 him in tl." ' . • ; him into the 
 
 parlor, and told him that 
 
 if he was .^ iiing privately 
 
 with me, I could then '. to a written 
 
 CDrrespoudence. He j> .ted, and with- 
 
 drew. 
 
 That written correspondence will now occupy 
 several pa'^m of my letter. I deem it the intro- 
 duction to many, very many important pa«.sag<e8 
 of my life's history. 
 
 SHErriELn, .Sat Eve, lOlh .Sept '36 
 Miss Laiiu J. Roys: I take this occa- 
 sion, my esteemed friend, to reply t3 the few 
 lines which I receised from your hand. I am 
 sensible that I ought to have anewcrcd sooner, 
 and did attempt it the evening of the day 
 on which I received the note; but finding my 
 .self somewhat disctimposcd, was oV - '' ' -i.st. 
 Since that lime, you know I li;i : )ni 
 
 homo. You speak of apology be _ ... -,iry 
 with regard to your not replying to my note. 
 I do not think it was so, neither did I wish 
 or expect it afler knowing the circumstance*. 
 But, inasmuch as you have ihoueht dirter- 
 ently, and havi- - ' - f ''.,]]j 
 
 accept it in full f .id 
 
 imairined to bo . . . ■'. . v.. . .1 
 
 .sujipi 9«d it would tiud you at Mr ; s; 
 
 hut as I knew of no dis-poailion ii: >t- 
 
 hood to m ike remarks, of which l >i)n 
 
 of your name and mine was likely ' - ib- 
 
 joct, I thought there would be n-' in 
 
 sending it to you anv wlic-ro. wn 
 
 w' ^ ' - •' • • ■ •■ "• >ve 
 
 is 
 t; . icr 
 
 some • 'y 
 
 even ■ 'i s, 
 
 it 
 i I 
 
 .r note I must s-iy I 
 
 1* i: ■ *' I am sorry 
 
 '. > Cnends and 
 
 i to mo, I sup- 
 
16 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 pose you meant to include me amongst the num- 
 ber of friends and benefactors. 
 
 The first I acknowledge to its fullest extent, 
 the other I as entirely disclaim ; for what have I 
 done to he considered as your benefactor, or 
 v/hat I have ever done as a friend to impose ob- 
 ligation on you, I am unable to conceive. If I 
 thought you capable of insincerity, I should be 
 inclined to allege it to that. Had friendly ser- 
 vices been required on your behaF, mine would 
 have been given to any extent the occasion might 
 have called for, and with the greatest pleasure 
 But I well knew that you needed not the aid of 
 friends, but that your merit and reputation were 
 a sufScient passport to any place you might choose 
 to occupy as teacher within the circle of your 
 acquaintance. Therefore, you will readily per- 
 ceive, that what exertion I used to secure your 
 valuable services to our district, partook more of 
 selfishness than of friendship or benefaction. I 
 will here say, that whoever is of opinion that I 
 was on that occasion actuated by any motives 
 other than the benefit of my children and the dis- 
 trict at large, are under total misapprehension. 
 Permit me also to say, that the thoughts with 
 which I have of lato been so deeply impressed, 
 had then no existence. Their origin is of later 
 date. My course for a few weeks past has been 
 unfortunate. I would gladly collect all the errors 
 I have committed in that time, and present them 
 for forgiveness. But where shall I present them ? 
 I can not believe they are registered against me 
 in heaven. The Great Judge of all looks at the 
 heart ; and I can find no traces of them there. 
 Where, then, shall I lock, but to her whom I 
 have otfended ? Take them, then, dear madam ; 
 'tis my only alternative. Take them ; call them 
 the result of iveakness, o1 indiscretion^ of misjudg- 
 ing, ofdisorderedimaginaiion; any thing but a will- 
 ingness to injure your feelings ; and if you can find 
 it in your heart to forgive, then forgive, and let 
 them, if possible, pass into the vortex of forgetful- 
 ness, where they may be no more called up to irri- 
 tate afresh the lacerated feelings of their unhappy 
 perpetrator. But if not, if they are too gross or of 
 too deep a dye to be forgiven, let me retain them as 
 a sad memento of mental depression or misguided 
 judgment. That I have degraded myself much 
 in your esteem, I have no doubt. It, can not 
 well be otherwise. But if I can profit from the 
 past, and be enabled to act more discreetly for 
 the future, the unpleasant lesson may not be 
 wholly lost. 
 
 I am, dear madam, with much respect, your 
 friend in truth and sincerity, 
 
 R. Little. 
 
 P.S. — In communicating your thoughts to me, 
 I hope you will be very plain ; for I esteem no 
 friend more highly than one who will point out 
 all my faults and correct all my errors. 
 
 Saturday morning, Sept. iTth, 1835. 
 
 Mr. L ; Perhaps the expression in my 
 
 note to which you object, implied, or appeared 
 to imply, more than I intended. I certainly think 
 myself afraid to be insincere, (not incapable.) 
 My idea was this, thus far in life I have been 
 greatly aided and benefited by the kindness or 
 fkvorable opinion and confidence of the respect- 
 able and influential. Many such do I feel under 
 obligation to respect, (nothing more,) and it was 
 
 the idea that my management had the appear- 
 ance of disrespect that caused my disquiet, and 
 made me think apology needfal. Owing to a 
 concurrence of fortunate circumstances, (and not 
 to superiority in me,) my course as teacher has 
 been comparatively prosperous. I have ever 
 felt my dependence here, and have not been un- 
 mindful of any influences which have contribut- 
 ed to my usefulness or enjoyment in this employ. 
 
 You are aware, Mr. Little, that my acquaint- 
 ance with you has been almost wholly limited 
 to your performr.nce of the offices of examining 
 teachers and schools ; and here I supposed my- 
 self considerably indebted to you, sir, (whether 
 mistaken or not.) I was not disposed to think 
 your note an indication of a design to pay me 
 any particular attention ; and when I afterwards 
 learned that you had become thus disposed, I 
 was surprised and somewhat embarrassed. I 
 still think that, upon further reflection, you may 
 see and acknowledge it best to withdraw such 
 attention. If any thing in your course needs 
 forgiveness, I am so ignorant as not to know it, 
 consequently there is nothing unforgiven. I am 
 far from imputing every thing to eiror or faidt 
 which does not happen according to my choice 
 of things. 
 
 In matters, the consequences of which are im- 
 portant and lasting, duty to yourself and family 
 demands (does it not ?) that you be guided by 
 sober reason and correct judgment. I refer to 
 the expression, " disordered imagination," as 
 used by yourself 
 
 Should you further communicate to me, I have 
 one request to make, which is, that you neither 
 spend time nor pains to bestow praise. (Censure 
 where you think it needful.) If it be true that 
 I am weak enough to be flattered, 'tis a truth 
 which I am unwilling to admit. For five years 
 past I have especially sought for some attain- 
 ments in self-knowledge, and to form a proper 
 estimate of human character and actions, as well 
 as of human life and happiness. I pronounce 
 with the poet : 
 
 "There's no perfection here below." 
 
 My own heart teUs me my frailties; my con- 
 science reproaches me with my faults. Tuere is 
 none but comparative good here — good, in com- 
 parison with others, or with what migh', be. I 
 love my friends, and rejoice in view of their ex- 
 cellencies ; but still beheve I am not, and do not 
 wish to be, blind to their imperfections. Many 
 of them, I believe, rank among the best ; but 
 none in whom (from particular acquaintance) I 
 do not discover errors and even faults. 
 
 I had thought of asking you to excuse me 
 from replying in full to yours until I leave 
 school, as I experience a kind of exhaustion 
 after being long in school, which makes it neces- 
 sary for me to confine my mental efforts mostly 
 to the duties of school, but have more leisure to- 
 day than I anticipated, being disappointed of 
 company. 
 
 As for holy time, I neither employ it in wait- 
 ing or transmitting letters of business or plea- 
 sure. 
 
 Accommodate yourself in relation to answer- 
 ing this, and you will oblige 
 
 Tour friend, 
 
 L. J. Roys. 
 
A MOTUKKS PEACE OFFKKING. 
 
 i: 
 
 SiiErriKLD, Sept nth, 1836. 
 I'KAH Madam: Am il-' i"". m uow near at 
 1 .III 1 when you nro U> i fn>m your ar- 
 
 (I ii'iH oari'i", I ftviiil in\ - r kind p'jrmw- 
 
 •■loii to oorrenpoinl iijkju u jtulijci-'l of Uiu moet 
 vital iiii[)ortniir« to luvMeir, nnd oiiu which 1 tioiH) 
 '.•..'■;,■. I ' • ill yoti. 
 
 whnleviT of liappi- 
 i. T,. ti.u irmu-riuily 
 -•< of jou 
 .. ; to Ix?- 
 
 coiue iny I'oiiipiiiituii, uiy L«>*i)iii-ifieiiiJ, and lo 
 Hhsre Willi m<< whHt»-v«r of enjoy moM lile liaii to 
 giTi". I ha . ' i you ill hi(?li e^teem fur 
 
 your many ^ of charnct'-r : Hiid you 
 
 now have Ui, i.—i i. ii'ier ntul nnVi-lionale fi- 
 gard. I lltid ihal I r.ui nol bo luippy without 
 you, and to make yon Hoslmll !>« thoirreal object 
 of my life. In cjwti" my j>ro[)o«nl niti'l your up- 
 probalioii, I fiel nH-sured thai ihix opprecaivo un- 
 UMHinesji, this fpvorish niixiely which now almost 
 titiniiitifl nie. will ccuse, and that I t>hall bo moro 
 worthy your reganJ. 
 
 I do not know that it is necessary for mo to 
 say any It.inK inoru at present. I believe the 
 pn)po-';il i^ lairly Ptated, and your reply will de- 
 leni.ine wlitliier or not the subject shall bo fur- 
 ther pursued. I shall await your reply with in- 
 tenaa ituxiety, and bopo you will not long delay. 
 
 With much respect, I am most devotedly 
 youry, Ualpk Littlk. 
 
 Miss Lalra J. Roys. 
 
 SiiEiriELn, 22d Sepl. 1836. 
 My Dfar Madam: That I foniStrij had some 
 agency with oth»rs of more in!!'»«r!f" in callmg 
 your II . 'W, and 0*' . our cha- 
 
 racter I think, u; i. is not 
 
 unliktl . II ■ r/un'.->tance i.u . , l-'-i i'rom my 
 mind U!itil ri'-jillod by your remark.*, or I should 
 nol haw (.xpr'-ssed my -c If as I did. I supposed 
 you had rt foreoce more particularly to the part I 
 took in securiti.ic your aervices last spring to our 
 district. 
 
 Ity your beinir incapable of insincerity, I 
 
 ■ ' " ' t-) your principle*. 
 
 ■ for errors, I have 
 
 I. : . . ._. •- ., ... ..orwhich I .supporied 
 
 had the otloct of disturbing in any degree the 
 
 trami'iillity of your min<l, or of interrupung the 
 
 even t-nor of your way. Farther than that I 
 
 imi nr.t .s. tisible Uiat I have strayed fur from the 
 
 ■ ' f rectitude; and as you hhv you know of 
 
 s' i:> niy course that nce(ls forgiveness, I 
 
 :-''"v<"l fr>m much anxiety ; ihoi;i,'h yet I 
 
 I t. •■ r . '. that any thinp shoul I have 
 ( . i III ii-.ordance with your "choi.o of 
 ;:.:■'." I will endeavor to explain what I 
 
 II • i.i by " d""ordered imagination." 
 
 1: .- cif mind in which every real or 
 
 "* '.J'! • niapni6ed by the iniaxiniiioi 
 
 to :i :,! i-L ; . i,'. is if not unpardonable oiTnfiiw. 
 By Ihi.s I have sufTored m'lch. 
 
 I am well aware that duty to myself and 
 family demands that I bo guided by sober 
 reason and correct judgment in all matters, the 
 coiisotiuenees of which are lo be important and 
 la,-;tiii^;. Constant and deep reflection up<m tins 
 has boen the chief employment of my mind, and 
 ha.s weighed heavily there. R. L. 
 
 The two articles last copied were banded me 
 2 
 
 by X(r. Littin as I wan aUiut leaving for homo .a 
 tb0 expiruliun of my term of ivhcjol. Uelievlng 
 that I ha<l DOW arrived at a point where I needed 
 to ai>k advii-e, I, as wsh my rustom when in 
 di'Ubt rt-garding the boiler way forme to pllr^ue, 
 hel apart a ecHMun (or private liif^tmir and prayer 
 ' ■' ' ■ ' ' I do my 
 
 1 ily att 
 
 iij ..I , .. ...-. I.. , .: . .^aw thia 
 
 c<>un<e coniinended by my .Maf>ltr in hiuven; 
 but now the object was of ^inh vn«l oor.soquonee, 
 that I felt oonstraintid to l!x the time for waiting 
 upon or before Uod to two consecutive diiys — 
 S.iiurday and Snbbuth afVer my return home. 
 I h«<l, a fiw years before, been aoliciud to Ink© 
 
 tlio plrtce ('fa dcp't""'- -^ ..,..ii . r ...,.i i ...i ,^^ 
 
 I'uT as to i-fok liou l- 
 
 Ud the case to ni;. lid 
 
 not oppoMe directly, aaid iliat Itiat lixi^d my |)ur- 
 poso lo decline. I now fell to believe that the 
 counsel of my parents would, under <Jod, lead 
 me to decide according lo his holy wil!. My 
 mother only said : " It would be a groat under- 
 taking, and you best know whether you are 
 ready for it." After having,' atk< "i <• u-j^.I of 
 One whose promise is, " My grace . !^ 
 
 thee," I did not see it my duly to !■ ; !y 
 
 because the undertakicg was groat, aiid replied 
 ns follows : 
 
 Monday Eve, lialf-pn.si nine, 
 •JiUhSept. is:{6. 
 
 Mr. Little : I have this evening re-porused 
 the pii[>er8 you gave me, (the first time nnc« I 
 left yonr house,) and presented the subject lo 
 my parents, who, as they have ever done, wish 
 me to be guided by my judgment and feelings in- 
 dependent of any other influence*. 
 
 I know, .=iir, that duty to yon demands that I 
 decide in relation to the subject of our corre- 
 spondence. 
 
 I would that I folt more decided than I do. 
 When I consented to correspond with you, such 
 consent implied that I thought it not improbable 
 I should be disposed to favor such a proposal as 
 you have now made. Kor mo to havo done ns 
 I then (lid, wit!; -, would 
 
 have boon, un<lei -. in my 
 
 own e^'itiiuatioii, .i:; ..., ' f-lt, 
 
 as you exprcsscil, that there are s ■; ns 
 
 to such a union as you have now ]■ y.»t 
 
 know not but upon delil)eralion, luy re^ -ra for 
 your porwon and chnraotcr, with numerous other 
 lit overbalauce, and induce me 
 t 
 
 ..-,.., ■f?".!ity in our ai»ea. Thi« I 
 
 feel lo be a: I know not tli« difftr- 
 
 ence. It n; . icrable. 
 
 Again, the responaibility of one who shall take 
 tiio place of the mother 'of your children — the 
 ilifli' ulty of doini' " r one of 
 
 niv i^'e, (not to ^ ■ ; doing 
 
 wi.nt ."hall 1. - ' .) 
 
 Another ■ :ht upon 
 
 in\- iiiii.c! i ' , , ■) in our 
 
 I jMH tins BUisject I have 
 i m you; but you do not pro- 
 
 fotw l'.kiih in I . .::-:. and have not in your hoiiso- 
 hoM an aluir to tlio Gofl of Abraham. Were 
 
 ■ ' n this subject, pro- 
 
 i oxist. I f-<'l that 
 
 ..., , , .. .s derived from the 
 
 worship and service of my Maker; that I have 
 
18 
 
 A MOTHER S PEACE OFFERING, 
 
 taken up the resolution to pursue tlie path of 
 duty as pointed out by conscience, (enlightened 
 l)y the word and Spirit of God,) let the conse- 
 quences be what they may. 
 
 This, I conceive, is the decision and cross of the 
 Christian, which secures an everlasting crown. I 
 do not believe that religion lessens our love of 
 earthly friends ; but whenever their wishes and 
 the Saviour's requirements are opposed to each 
 other, the Lord's rules being right, reasonable, 
 and obligatory, and love to him supreme, the 
 true disciples always adheres to them. 
 
 Mr. Little, I am not so inconsistent as to sup- 
 pose that your placing your affections upon me 
 will produce any change in yoiir religious senti- 
 ments or feelings, whatever they may be. No; 
 I wish you to know my mind, and if jou are 
 aware that ynu are, or shall be opposed to a 
 course of life in a, companion that accords with 
 snch sentiments, duty to yourself and to me re- 
 quires that yovi declare it. 
 
 I could never be hapj^y if opposed in these 
 things by a near friend ; and if unhappy myself, 
 should be unlikely to contribute to the happiness 
 of another. 
 
 You will understand that the last topic is what 
 stands in the way of a decision. I confide in 
 your candor, and wait a reply. 
 
 Let the issue of our correspondence be what it 
 will, I suppose you would not object to my being 
 employed in the school at Hartford for a time. 
 Perhaps it may conduce to my ov/n improve- 
 ment. With the highest respect and friendship, 
 I remain yours, L. J. Rots. 
 
 Saturday, Oct. 8th, 1836. 
 
 My De.vr Jane : i am sensible that your last 
 ought to have been answered before now. The 
 reason why I have delayed so long is, that one 
 part of it caused me some difliculty. I will ex- 
 plain before I close. 
 
 Ton are desirous to know something of my 
 views with regard to the suliject of religion, and 
 whether I should be disposed to oppose you in 
 the pursuit and practice of it. You confide in 
 niy candor, and I mean not to deceive you. 
 
 Although I have never been able to settle my 
 mind satisfactorily with respect to the great mys- 
 teries of the Gospel and its important truths, yet 
 I hold in the highest esteem those whom I con- 
 sider possessed of piety and true religion. I con- 
 sider it as one of the most valuable appendages 
 to the female character, and one of its brightest 
 ornaments. And permit me to say it was that 
 consideration more than any thing else, that de- 
 termined me to pay my addresses to j'ou; and if 
 I know my own heart, I have no disposition, nor 
 do I believe I ever shall have, to oppose in a com- 
 panion the pursuit of its holy purposes, but feel 
 that I should always be disposed rather to en- 
 courage her in such pursuit than to throw obsta- 
 cles in the way. 
 
 These remarks are intended as having ro?pect 
 to the practice and pursuit of religion 5n a gene- 
 ral point of view ; and could I stop here, I have 
 little doubt that my views would meet your ap- 
 probation. But that candor in which you con- 
 fide, compels me to notice a particular part of 
 your letter, which I am more troubled to get 
 along with. Pei mit me to repeat the words. 
 
 You say you " do not beheve that religion 
 iessens the love of earthly friends; but when- 
 
 ever their wishes and the Saviour's requirements 
 are opposed to each other, the Lord's rules being 
 riglit, reasonable, and obligatory, and love to him 
 supreme, the true disciple always adheres to 
 them." This seems to open a field for argument 
 which I am unwilling to enter, and seems to in- 
 volve subjects which I am unwilling to discuss. 
 After having written much upon the sub- 
 ject, none of which I am willing to lay before 
 you, I feel under the necessity of letting it re- 
 main undisposed of. 
 
 I feel that it would be criminal to delay my 
 answer longer ; and if I should, it is vtry uncer- 
 tain whether I should be able to say any thing 
 which would be satisfactory to you or to myself. 
 
 I wrote yesterday, and sealed my letter. This 
 morning I broke it open and wrote again. You 
 liave h' re the result. "What you will tliink of it 
 I know not, but hope you will make every allow- 
 ance that charit,y will vouchsafe. 
 
 With respect to your going to Hartford, I do 
 not know that it would be prudent for me to say 
 any tiling. Had this negotiation terminated soon 
 and in my favor, I should harrily have been will- 
 ing to have you go; but as it is, I hope you will 
 use j'our own discretion. I hope it will never be 
 my fate to cause much embarrassment or unhap- 
 piness to you. 
 
 I somewhat fear that the subject of our c^orre- 
 spondence has not awakened that interest in you 
 which I had hoped; but you know best 
 
 Please reply as soon as convenient to this, and 
 oblige yours in sincerity and truth. 
 
 Pi.. Little. 
 
 Miss Laura J. Eoys. 
 
 Monday Eve, Oct. 10th, 1S3G. 
 
 Dear Sir : The first page of yours of Oct. 8lh, 
 removed from my mind the oul}' remaining ob- 
 jection to an acceptance of your proposal, which 
 left me entirely disposed to say that I consent to 
 become yours in the sense implied in the divine 
 institution of marriage. You, sir, have my en- 
 tire confidence. Had I ever doubted that I 
 should find in you an agreeable coropaniou, as 
 well as kind friend, to have encouraged your ad- 
 dresses would have been entirely inconsistent 
 with my views of propriety. Indifference I 
 sought, that I might, if possible, view the subject 
 in its proper light, and exercise that considera- 
 tion so important a step demands, and have 
 thought best to maintain it until I had an ex- 
 pression of your mind upon the topic I submitted 
 to you. 
 
 The quotation from mine upon your second 
 page, I still repeat is the sentiment of my heart. 
 It appears clear to me, and I was not aware that 
 in advancing it I should present any difficulty to 
 your mind, as appears is the case. 
 
 Had I time, I would express some of my views 
 of the subject, not expecting to convey light to 
 your mind. My past experience forbids such 
 expectations. Allow me to say, I feel that ex- 
 perimental and practical religion is of chief im- 
 portance, and believe that if faithfully pursued, 
 all necessary light will be given in relation to 
 other truths. 
 
 If your conclusions in relation to interest or 
 duty,' differ from what they have been, or if your 
 views or feehngs in reference to myself have bo- 
 come changed, you surely will not hesitate to 
 inform me. 
 
A MOTHFK.S FEACK OFFKHIXO. 
 
 10 
 
 I woiiM like nn pxprweion of jronr mind with- 
 
 -V " h }•')«! to fr^l at in>crty to act 
 
 ;n relation to writing, or call- 
 
 willi a frnil mortal. 
 slroTcd 
 
 Peace of mind ; ' 
 
 If ro, Iiow liable to )>e do- 
 I .Tjcj't ! TbiM 
 
 1 
 
 r ...:..,- 
 
 tiitioi, 1 replied i did not know ijiat 1 should 
 r.hj.><-t. 
 
 I'll H ii", I l)eti»vo, nil '' I 
 
 ! I now re..| tluii if 1 
 
 t 
 
 t '..... 
 
 Xf'T. Jf you know of n- 
 teem ht-st for hk- !•> >; 
 may if you | . 
 d.fivr>r tn U' 
 
 y it mny not 
 
 • 8c1io<j1. you 
 
 .Mull that I will en- 
 
 • rst "f ni^r.i tiiontb. 
 
 shall not b© mnvcu ; " lut iinvo lui tiiO unport- 
 anco of having the mind fortillcd, und ]>r(.-)iaivd 
 r-r any OTcnts a righleoud Providence may 
 
 dictJito. 
 
 kind hfartf'l 
 sunded mo. 
 ed, and c('' 
 pricsti^ntft )i! 
 
 ■'.\.<.i of 
 I that I 
 
 ci mo fur ' '-«. iind 
 
 ir "1 and yo;;: _ : of her 
 
 who sui'srrilics herself 
 
 Yutira, in ainceritv and affV'Clion. 
 
 L J. Roys. 
 R. LiTTLF. Esq. 
 
 The chain C'f wTitten discourse is bfre broken, 
 tUrougb verbal communication having been 8ul>- 
 Btituted. Next in ordtr ia the following : 
 
 '•. that lonjr absent friend, that 
 fi' 'T h'»r»>, «»«>pm«, mv Hoar .lano. 
 
 I I havo but little 
 
 n to sec her whom I 
 
 lovu BO woil. Vi'u iiiiiiiml^^l that much of your 
 timp would n^^^'firilr t^ f<>V:"n 'm' in vi-itinp 
 
 Hu liiliu knew ilio griefa Li:i caviu aud rviuon- 
 »tranco'< caused me. 
 
 I think I am well nv ' ,« 
 
 provinc of woman — ta :.t 
 
 ol'!'^- -' ■■: •■-'■•■ .,,,.,.».-. I. ;■.._■.. . ■ ^ ,,,uld 
 
 f': • mind of him to whom 
 
 M. . : . L J. R. 
 
 I do not find in my possession the p-npcrs re- 
 ferred to under the next date. 
 
 Tip ' > 
 
 My Peak .Tank: U .o 
 
 greuliy fe..r 
 t\coi\, verv 
 
 may, I leel tiiat i 
 seem to have (a.s I 
 unmanned me. I 
 bear up under c- 
 
 ]. you on \ llie '/d 
 
 N . . l-.M.. to spe; . .rs. Or 
 
 would you rot like to come lo our n«'ighlx)rhood 
 on Friday or Saturday, before commencinfr? If 
 BO, why bad I not beticr defer my visit till then, 
 ftLd bring you in? Hope you will let me know 
 your plc.-isuri- ' . . , . • 
 
 I .sup;^>Me I - 
 
 and '• ill on . , . , 
 
 jnibmiltfd, fiT you to sanction. \ ary an you 
 f 1 n.= '', 'T drfline wholly, jus may h si suit yotir 
 ■ r wishes. 
 
 1 are well and happy. Plea.«e write 
 a I -v i,:i ■< soon to your affeotionato Lim^K. 
 
 MisN Latra J. Roys. 
 
 Friday, 21st Oct. IS.^C. 
 
 P. S. — It in understood that your school will 
 oommetno the first Monday in November. L. 
 
 To have a firiend speak of 
 
 uideed, gratifying; and it is l- •ir.i mu i. :- .<■ •■- ...... ., 
 
 peace is not too much founded ui>on an alliance ' can not aek. 
 
 . I 
 I l>y jou. Tiity arv, in- 
 
 - drawn by your hat.d ; 
 
 ry ? do I posstss them .' 
 I I tlo: and yet I would 
 '■' — • • '• "••vn 
 
 •'fir 
 
 ■V 
 
 • d 
 •I 
 
 
 
 - -- -h I 
 n of the lime. 
 
 \ ■ 
 
 senMhIe tliat my 
 
 n.- 
 
 .1 you are not in- 
 
 .4 now in n fr^at 
 
 ■ " .rrl 
 
 \ 
 
 
 .-<1 
 
 I 
 V 
 
 
 • l- 
 
 I 
 
 and c 
 r>o nrf 
 
 
 ine 
 • ix>u a 6teai. 
 Ill tlirow the 
 
20 
 
 A MOniEll'S PEACE OFFKRIXG. 
 
 Nov. 21 St, I80G. 
 
 Dkau Siii: You do not expect auy further 
 written conununications from mo at present ; but 
 I doubt not will indulge nio notwithstanding. 
 
 I apprehend that you disapprove of sonic of 
 my mauagemont, whore, if you knew the reasons 
 by which I am guided, you might judge dif- 
 ferently. 
 
 You think there was no occasion for the spirit- 
 eil repulse 3-ou met, the first morning you called 
 at uiy father's. Lot nio tell yon what I suppose 
 ultimutoly led to my conduct at tliat time. 
 
 When I was nineteen years of age, a friend, 
 (and one whom I highl}^ esteemed as sucli,) re- 
 quested of mo a private interview. 
 
 Circumstances wero such that I easily mistook 
 bis motives, and granted it. Ife was thereby so 
 mueh encouraged as to disclose to me what ho 
 otherwise would not have done, and when I in- 
 formed him that I decidedly rejected his suit, he 
 attached blamo to mo for not declining his re- 
 quest. That I did not, I sincerely repented, with 
 tiiat repentance which leads to the i'orsakiug 
 of a fauh . Sympathy for the apparently afllicted. 
 alienated friendsliip, and the idea of being myself 
 to blauie, "were like a dagger woundiog my heart, 
 and destroying my peace. 
 
 The past I could not recall, but resolved not to 
 incur blamo any more by encouraging any one 
 whom I believed I should be unwilling to marry. 
 That resolution has prepared me to ac^ decidedly 
 in all similar instances since. The circumstance 
 which I now relate to you, I have carefully con- 
 cealed from every individual, and have driven as 
 much as possible from my own remembrance. 
 
 Allow me to tell you, sir, that you were the 
 fourth individual whose addresses I have had oc- 
 casion to encourage or decline the present year. 
 
 The throe lirst 1 was prepared to meet from the 
 considerations above mentioned. When lirst I 
 had intimations of your partiality to me, I doubt- 
 ed not that the objections 1 have belbro nauKHl to 
 you, would iutitience mo to an immediate decision, 
 should any advances be made on your part, 
 though conscious that yom- partiality to me was 
 more gratityiiig than bad been tliat of any other 
 individual. This consciousness led me to hcsitsite 
 when you informed me you designed to call on 
 me. 1 know not that I should ever be willing to 
 marry you, shoulil au opportuuity prcscut ; and 
 to have incurred blame from you as 1 had before 
 done, (in refercnce to the friend above mentioned,) 
 would have been to mo a severe trial, indeed. 
 
 I dare not, as in the former case, mistake your 
 motives ; felt that 1 was willing to take the sub- 
 ject into consideration, and thought best to de- 
 chne an interview with you at that time, and say 
 that I could only consent to a written corre- 
 spoudenee. 
 
 Tho rest you know. 
 
 Another tiling I have in mind. You said with 
 so nuich seriousness the other evening, you ex- 
 pect to bo very lonely this winter. 
 
 Do you think that 1, without justifiable rea- 
 sons, have deferred our marrijige? I am certain 
 that 1 wish to do all that duty and propriety will 
 admit, to contribute to your enjoyment ; yes, am 
 happy in so doing. Bnt with myself, the bare 
 mention of one's marrying soon after tho death 
 of a companion, has seemed to imply censure. 
 The circumstanees which, in your view and that 
 of your friends, make it necessary in your case, 
 
 woulii not be known or considered as far as our 
 marriage would be known ; and further, slander- 
 ous tongues did s.ay of you that your partiality 
 for another rendered you iudin'erent to your com- 
 panion during her life ; and have since been ready 
 to say that you had other motives than to secure 
 my services as teacher, in the part you took to 
 etfect that object. 
 
 These are the considerations which induced 
 mo to defer marriage, and if they do not serve to 
 convince you that 1 am correct, will you, at least, 
 admit that they are sufficient excuse for mo ? 
 
 Should it remain your choice, (Providence per- 
 mitting,) I hold myself bound to be yours; to 
 enter upon an untried station, Avith tho duties ol 
 which 1 am unacquainted, and to discharge which 
 I am in a great measure disqualified. 1 am will- 
 ing to become a learner; but you will suiier mo 
 to remind you that "moderate expectations ai'c 
 an excellent safeguard of the mind." Should 
 you yet conclude that you have erred in your 
 selection, and seek to correct that error, you know 
 I hold myself in readiness lor such an event, imd 
 should acknowledge it right. 
 
 Yours, L. J. Roys. 
 
 R. Little. 
 
 Sheffield, 2-.lth Nov. 1836. 
 
 My De.\u Madam : Many thanks are due for 
 your late communication. I have read it over 
 many times, and cvefy time with an increased 
 sense of your goodness, and of my obligations to 
 you for it. You are mistaken, to be sure, in sup- 
 posing that 1 disapprove of any thing you have 
 done. Although I was not perfectly satisfied 
 with certain decisions at tho time, I have since 
 been convinced that every thing has been done 
 right on your part, and tho reasons you now give 
 confirm me more strongly in that opinion. You 
 speak of things with relation to yoursellj which 
 aro entirely new to me, and in which I can not 
 but feel a deep interest. But wlio is the vile 
 wretch that has dared to use the slanderous lan- 
 guage of which you speak ? If it is a man, and 
 
 not beneath mj' notice excuse me, 1 dare 
 
 not attempt to express my feehngs upon this sub- 
 ject, lost I might bo betraA^ed to use language 
 which would not become me when addressing 
 you. 
 
 I entreat you not to feel uneasy about my lone- 
 liness. I have felt less of it this week, and am 
 not without hopes that I shall get along very 
 well. At any rate, do not suller yourself to pity 
 me, for tJuit 1 could not well endure. 
 
 Yours, truly, Ralph Little. 
 
 My J axe. 
 
 Monday Eve, Dec. 5th, 183t'i, 
 10 minutes before 10. 
 Seated alone as I am by a comtbrtable fire, 
 with pen, ink, and paper before me, I am tempted 
 to write a i'cw lines for Mr. L . That, how- 
 ever, he will disapinovo. But methinks I can 
 write a few minutes without doing injustice to 
 any one. I recollect hearing uncle Newman tell, 
 last winter, of one person who s;iid ho would not 
 have the ser\-ice of such as were about getting 
 married. I replied: "If that is the way people 
 feel, I will not teach school al^er I think of mar- 
 rying." You think, do you not, sir, I shotdd have 
 kept my word? I think I should have practiced 
 less idle tdk; but in reference to all the engage- 
 
A MOTHKRS I'KACK orFKHIVr,. 
 
 21 
 
 mrnUi into wliicli I linvc winco ontcrcd. I Imvo I w'iiw», n pri'lmt, n kind and ■ffcolionato motlifr, 
 
 dono Wlllit 1 COnHidori.-d r.-'ht nud for tl,.- li' -I I :,1 I to If ', -it' 1 kl'i.l ni.i ■".■. -v ! •..!.. fr„ ti.! ;im| 
 
 I nin K4-ii-<ililn tliat I i ^ r 
 
 da:'r (•■■;••. to Vn f;..-:,l, . ■ ,1 
 
 1 1 l,»v-« 
 
 H<'vcni;.- "I • 
 him whnl I 
 ''lurk (It nn I . ..■ 
 
 Id nlinoAt ci'inplaiu of tho 
 
 ' :m rcfK-iit to 
 
 1 r> lui Ijv Mr. 
 
 " Althouirti tlin vinler liaa h««D long, 
 Tb« fprliif iliall kit ll« wa*tr< repair.'* 
 
 Pprip)? poon ••*rn*. nnd «■ mpidly pn'^wnl. Thus 
 i Mnp will 
 
 t < Die In 
 
 ■ ••••<!- 
 
 to tlint stati-, HweMcnHtiii' c<i|<c>i iit<<, nad NiuixftliS 
 il>« Pif't"! t'nth. You ank mo, kind nir, \\h-\f 
 t ■ o you. Twill tdl you as ii< 
 
 I • r byfH-ftniiinir mvflolf. A tir 
 
 11. L 
 
 .MoiLlny Kv. 10 ... ' ■ : 
 Dkah Sir: With m:; 
 t'>mpl • ■ '■ ' 
 
 Yf)!| k' • ) 
 
 loiirii !'• . ^' r 
 
 to doTotion. 
 
 TItnt tlio iTi?p!n?r nnd ?»wrrrf*rprny<T. H'» who 
 
 This 1 !<ir 
 irh I <'::fi 
 
 t mind 
 
 iiiftrry you. 
 
 . thul 1 lii-iv 
 i> yourfjimily 
 A- wiiiuig to coufont to 
 L J. R. 
 
 Dec. K,th. 18:{t;. 
 My Pfaii Jake: FTowovcr stnuigo it m«y ap- 
 pear to you, that a [lonson who has not oxprri- 
 ©no«»d n '•b^P'T" '>*' h"art. r>nn «« flr.^t;ttit<» of reli- 
 IT , .11 havo 
 
 ' ' ■ lat his 
 
 !■ ■ ■• - 
 
 I tiiink 1 
 
 .', .d\. I dij Dot, hj;\ 
 denravofl na not to 
 
 II will 
 
 have 111' 
 
 •.v. « t 
 
 of tho 
 
 your |ir,iycni av.u!; uitd iu ii: 
 wisdom find pnulenfo, kiiidn< 
 bestowed uji ■ 
 the part of v. 
 
 fr 1- •— ■ 
 
 I 
 
 I!!. ; • 
 
 thul 1 ^lluil Jo wruu^ lliun tlibl i '■ 
 
 wronp. Wo onri Ti"t ovon know r I 
 
 tried, and if r 
 
 tost than ev- 1 
 
 ' • • Tcsnli. .'v 1 
 
 th;it my li' 
 
 , th of duty, : , i'' 
 
 It. i hope, .Mr. I ijiind 
 
 to TTiT fnultH, but i . mo to 
 
 ' them. CiU o;.c V. ..o ki.ovv.'* so well lh« 
 
 s of kind parents ever bo olbcrwino tlmn 
 
 head u|><)n : 
 
 human heart i I 
 
 ,, No. If I kno-. 
 t iiieu. I Uiciiiiioul wiih mc is decy> and abidiuK. I lia\o 
 i in M>. no 'u\t>n<t of mtiotinl eriiovment hnf they nn* «.«- 
 
 wiae. 
 
 tlio elhcl" I 
 Oo-i. in his 
 
 1.. 
 
 ;i ■ 
 t 
 
 to do my duty lowani 
 r-nt, md tiiat he won 
 ■■' • V.I, nod i^i ''■ 
 
 i tnith. I 
 
 II liiiil I filiie<l to hrtvo M) mucli d my IwmtI Wiiii my cm- 
 frio tA I plnvmont r\9 to enjoy the life (<» whieh ? haro 
 •.I'l. Is it 1 I.-- 
 
 ti)»t T now 
 
 to one who wooid bo to my bereaved children a 
 
 I w 
 
 'It C-. 
 
 }uU. 
 
 H. L 
 
 ., yuurs. 
 
 ' you, 
 
 Ht ono 
 it h.ilf 
 or 8e« 
 I„ J. R. 
 
 I much fo.ar that you i 
 
 in wliat I hare infomn - -^ 
 
 opinionii. I am willing yoQ should know mj 
 
99 
 
 A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 lieart, but would not have you entertain hopes 
 that may be deceived. I would have you to un- 
 derstand, as I have before informed yon, that I 
 have considered myself fiir from possessing vital 
 piety as taught and required by the precepts of 
 the Gospel. However necessary or desirable a 
 true understanding- of these precepts may be, I 
 have never been able, as I have told you before, 
 to settle my mind satisfactorily in relation to 
 them. That I believe in a Creator and Governor 
 of all things, is no merit in me ; for who can be- 
 hold the wondrous works of nature, the order 
 in which they are held, the regularity with 
 which the seasons pass and return, with all the 
 other wonders which wo daily behold, and say 
 there is no God ? And who believe there is a 
 God of such power, such goodness to mortals, and 
 not reverence and adore ? Why, then, believing 
 thus, do I not live a different life ? 
 
 Is there not a strange inconsistency in this? 
 And yet strange as it may seem to you, I have 
 thus believed, and thus lived from early life; and 
 often prayed for a light of the knowledge of the 
 truth ; for grace to know, and a heart to perform 
 my duty in all things. And yet where ami? 
 Not, perhaps, considered as the most depraved 
 of mortals, yet as far to all appearance from what 
 you would have me, as when my manhood com- 
 menced. I hope I shall never feel a disposition 
 to oppose you, or any one else, in the pursuit of 
 religion. 
 
 When I look upon ray past life, I can see that 
 I have been brought through many trials, many 
 dangers, and am yet preserved : for what end is 
 known only to Omnipotence. What I gave you 
 in writing upon this subject was not to deceive 
 you, for as you observe, I could have no object in 
 that now, but it was to let you know the truth 
 so far as I know myself, and my own heart. But 
 oh ! the heart of man, how little known to him- 
 self. If my course of life has not been, and is 
 not now in consonance with what I — 
 
 The article above is copied from the unfinished 
 manuscript given me by Mr. Little. 
 
 Sabbath Eve, Jan. 22d, 1S3T. 
 
 Dear Sir: My heart is unusually sad this 
 evening, for which I can assign no especial rea- 
 son. 
 
 But hojie is the bright bow in the clouds that 
 come over the human mind. I expect that sad- 
 ness will soon be dispelled, as well as that the 
 storm that now casts a gloom over the face of 
 nature will soon have passed by ; to be suc- 
 ceeded, indeed, by alternate sunshine and gloom. 
 I have had recourse to a perusal of the letters 
 and papers in my possession from your hand, 
 which revive, among other kindred emotions, a 
 sense of obligation, for expressing which I sup- 
 pose I shall not now be thought insincere. 
 
 I find in, your last some things to which I 
 would like to reply. If I mistake, not, you have 
 somewhere expressed that you would love God 
 for the excellency of his character, j'-et in the 
 above-named communication speak of yourself as 
 not having experienced a change of heart ; which 
 presents a difficulty to my mind, as I never sup- 
 posed I loved God until I had ceased to refuse 
 compliance with the Gospel terms of salvation. 
 You will permit me to inquire in what way we 
 may have evidence that our prayers are answered, 
 without having the same degree of evidence, that 
 
 we have been led by the Spirit of God, or in 
 other words, regenerated by his Spirit. 
 
 Wednesday Eve, Feb. 1st. 
 
 You say in a later communication, you sup- 
 pose you are as far from what I would have you 
 be in religion, as when you entered the stage of 
 manhood. 
 
 I reply, it appears evident to me that if we are 
 truly the servants of God, we have that regard 
 for his glory which leads us to desire that all his 
 creatures may love and serve him, and that our 
 love of our friends leads us to wish to see them 
 blessed with the possession of that godliness 
 which hath promise of the life that now is, and 
 of that which is to come. And further, our own 
 joy arising from intercourse with earthly filends 
 is greatljr hightened when they delight in the 
 service of Christ. Here, then, are three reasons 
 why I (if I am what I profess to be) should wish 
 you to be a disciple of that Master in heaven 
 whom I desire to serve. 
 
 I have long been of opinion that for a believer 
 to marry an unbeliever is inexpedient, if not Dn- 
 scriptural; have not unfrequeutly expressed this 
 opinion to others, and though I do not promise 
 not to change my opinion, held firmly to this 
 until I became convinced of your partiality for 
 me. I regarded you as an unrenewed person, 
 and was .^-urprised at myself on finding my scru- 
 ples vanish ; and fearing lest undue creature at- 
 tachment should cause me to swerve from the 
 path of Christian duty, I resolved on a season of 
 especial prayer for direction ; and on returning 
 home at the close of my school, appointed (in my 
 own mind) the two succeeding days for private 
 fasting and prayer. 
 
 I earnestly besought of my heavenly Father to 
 guide me into the way which should be agree- 
 able to his will, and where I should best sub- 
 serve the ends of my existence here. 
 
 I attained a state of mind in which I felt pre- 
 pared for whatever event might ensue ; presented 
 the subject to my parents, as I have before told 
 you, thinking perhaps their advice would lead 
 me to a decision. 
 
 But as they declined saying any thing to in- 
 fiuence, I wi'ote to you what conscience dic- 
 tated, and awaited your reply wdthout much 
 solicitude. 
 
 I probably should not have related all of the 
 above, had not some things you have written led, 
 or rather opened the way ; for which I thank you. 
 
 I know that important consequences must re- 
 sult, from such a union as we now contemplate ; 
 but may we not hope that He who ruleth all 
 things, and whose guidance we each have aimed 
 to seek, designs that we thereby shall be truly 
 blessed ? 
 
 For this I would still pray. 
 
 I am not conscious of being actuated by any 
 motives while entering into this engagement but 
 those which I suppose ought to influence in such 
 aftairs, and my mind has remained unmoved. 
 Did you ever think mB influenced by the idea of 
 your being rich ? 
 
 Pardon the inquiry. Your remarks the other 
 evening led to it. 
 
 I am not aware that my heart is yet much set 
 upon riches. I hope for the comforts and con- 
 veniences of life as long as I need them; but if 
 denied, hope for a submissive spirit. 
 
A MOTIIKKS I'KACE OFFERIXO. 
 
 23 
 
 Feb. ICIh, 1S37. 
 
 Mv in^'i .T*m:: The calm, the miW, ihe 
 
 la, I Itelievp, odeu more 
 
 .' >i^ t'> n M'n"* of oiir 
 
 10 
 
 
 
 •iTi!<»«s th«' .•in-'i'M-t'c '■•• <'f railing my 
 i moro Ibreibly 
 
 ircd ibat a tiae : 
 
 ». LiTTLB, K?-.! 
 
 Ill© follow 
 .ite ill the : 
 
 i bo ng- 
 
 L. J. UoTS. 
 
 !i'ic<l iiiu before the latest 
 lU u itiiTo re8{x)iuleil to: 
 
 Tuesday, 3lst Jau. 1S37. 
 
 , tl.,„. .1 , I ...... „n,,.M.,lly 
 
 I'KAR .].\\^ 
 
 •('.■rious on ' s. 
 
 I di» iioi til. ,il- 
 
 ihougli I wiis uul suh.iiuie t i' it. 1a» you liiiuk 
 it Btn»n£r«». o<.!)-i.l<-rifvj- th" trinl-» ihronpli wliicU 
 I " a of my 
 
 "lUft of 
 
 .._^ >.;l8t its 
 
 .1 oven now 
 
 -.m? WouM 
 
 it not Ihj Biiil niori' str •very trace of 
 
 tlioso allii'-ti'tti'' sf) !»(>o;i . :.«)in my mind, 
 
 and I • • uica to wear the coetumo 
 
 of joy 
 
 I con-i itr ( ; ;ii.iiii!-s i\ d'lty. I rank its 
 name amongst llio TirtiKs, ainonjfst which it i.-i 
 by DO mcan^ i' ■ : .-i I ;' f ouxl>t lobe 
 
 cultivated ;i~ i virtue. Yet 
 
 it is not in li 1 ilnd it not in 
 
 mine, todi.«)>il ai u.',i i.iuvn anU kcop aloof tbe 
 adverse prinfinlp, i<all ii whut- ynn will, doprf*- 
 
 v ' can at 
 
 :■ ■ . . : St) iix- 
 
 eidloUa U iVn.- i 
 
 I suppo.s.' !M>riAn»ne«s i^ wm^whnt Cf>n'!fit'!- 
 tional with n 
 rences in n 
 
 facilitate it'* . i- - ■ . 
 
 dominion f> r . of tiau', r... 
 
 panicd by a • nily. I a 
 
 plcoju'l witii ciicertuincsH m oitiersi, and like Ui 
 jxartako it with tliTn. I havf> ]<! ■;f*uro in at^aoci- 
 ating with t ,> claf^tio and 
 
 lively. Th' -i. and have a 
 
 1 ' •' :; and 1 
 
 1 -s is not 
 
 ll ..- .: - .- .\0.-r 
 
 readinfj tiim you will 
 
 a want of vivacity i.'< li 
 
 deportment. Ab for a r«.i.ii.;y tl.r . I" 
 
 I may so «':dl it.) I know of Done - .s 
 
 as your 
 
 I 1h r will be ready «x>n; but do 
 
 ngiit wiiou we are led to stc wo Mri.' v.ri<\,g, than 
 to h? c rrpcted dirfti'!' hy ."n-^thcr T';e !«lt*r 
 
 |ire«enl itni: - - .. .:_■• 
 
 in^ i", that aa it loafL'S us to idy, we 
 
 are liable to bo mistaken \s ' to the 
 
 wro'ig wo bavo done, haviiif^ ooij ti.c cflTc'ts it 
 produce.^ to Hud out tlie cainw. 
 
 I thibk jou Will not ' > mi^Ulke iLo 
 
 suVject to which I am ' 
 
 You will 't^. K!.., , ... nt our lato 
 
 interview, ;, .re wtre no oondi- 
 
 li >iin. My 1 -re nooe. 
 
 I now hay Umi I tenove Uiere were none ex- 
 pi^a44>d ; Vut surely lli«»r» nrv. or o'ltrht to be, 
 <• ■ .pliodine\- .liid,aDd 
 
 H ;.3 I ack: in tfis 
 
 fiiiiKe - 
 
 inff, th.i- ' ^ : : s 
 
 happened ou my part. Las oeeu eitiier iDToiuntarj 
 or purely accidental. 
 
 Alas! bow difTicult for liuman weakness to 
 guide the bark of iifo in sife'y thruuch the 
 troubled ocean of iu « •■ ' ' ' * '<t 
 
 it id ou every i-ide by ; 
 
 tune, the turbid waves >.: ... . -, 
 
 or the ragin? storms of warn: Aud, 
 
 alas ! bow dearly do we f fit :. ■ pay for 
 
 the least variation to the right or to the l«lt from 
 tlio narrow and often obscure channel of safely. 
 •,'7 are they who have en ever- 
 !iin to guide them securely 
 I'M.., >.. .-..'<>.■) and breakers of this tumu'.- 
 tuovis sea. 
 
 I was tot aware till our late interview, that I 
 had in the leAst transgressod. nor then till ruminau 
 ing sftcr I left you, on what had then irrinoy'r* d ; 
 
 ■1 now, my dear girl, since I am • i 
 
 haviiii^ violated expressed or r 
 
 ■.I-. I iiwi not without liope r' • ■ ■■ 
 
 uot your regard for me will : 
 ^•vhcayou are s«ti.sficd tl at '. ... . - .. ..^ a 
 penalty 6uffi:uent for the oflenac.) 
 
 YoiirH truly, R. T.TTTl.r, 
 
 Mi»-8 L. J. ItoYS. 
 
 Tl- 
 
 .» ', 
 
 \\ i.o lows you lieaiiy. 
 
 me to 
 
 .iiiT you 
 to N«w-Yotii . i Wi'iiid liave liked an oppor- 
 tinily for verbal expUnatinn on tha «ii»ij.«ci of 
 your letter i '" .or of- 
 
 fended me. U>at I 
 
 •" •'■• ' ' ' ■ ■••- -■■■■■'■•■: .,,. .. . . . ,.-.. ,1 dA;;hi 
 
 t!( me, tnat if a loaulo errs. ;: is 
 r error been the side that lie'tnda 
 U. LiiiLK. I cnaracttr. 
 
24 
 
 A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 Please toll me plainly of my faults, and believe 
 me, vours truly, sincerely, and afleclionately, 
 ■r. L. L. J. R. 
 
 Sabbath Eve, March 5th, 1837. 
 
 I would not be an idolater, nor willingly be 
 idolized. Love is the duty of all rational crea- 
 tures ; the proper incentive to the perFormanee 
 of all other duties, and the only source of all true 
 bliss. 
 
 To let the love of earthly friends stand in the 
 way of love and duty to God, is wrong. Not to 
 love our friends is a violation of God's commands. 
 I would that my attachment to every object 
 mi<:cht be in accordance with the divine will. 
 
 This I am convuiced is the sure way to bless 
 and to be blessed. 
 
 The above is suggested by the idea that my 
 mind is of late too often wandering from the 
 topics which should engross it in the time of 
 public worship. 
 
 Would you like to go out on a visit to-mor- 
 row evening? Aunt Newman intends to be at 
 father's, and would like to have me visit there 
 attended by yourself. I wish you, sir, to act as 
 your own pleasure and convenience dictate. 
 
 Please send me word in the morning. 
 
 To Mr. Little. L. J. Roys. 
 
 Monday Mom, March Gth, 1837. 
 Good morning, my dear Jane. How very 
 pleasant it is. The present prospect is, that the 
 good sleighing will not continue long. Would 
 yo\i like to ride this evening? With respect to 
 the time of starting, the direction, and the desti- 
 nation, choose for yourself. With respect to 
 company, it may not be very good. 
 
 I can promise you but Little. 
 
 Monday, 6th March, 1837. 
 Dear Jane : Have you read the note which 
 I inclosed in your package this morning? Sinoe 
 writing that, I have read yours of last evening, 
 in answer to which I have to say that nothing 
 cculd afford me more pleasure ihao to comply 
 with your kind invitation of visiting with you at 
 your father's to-morrow evening ; and nothing 
 that I now know of will prevent my doing so. 
 It is now too late for me to get this to you as 
 early as you requested, which I regret, but hope 
 you will receive it this afiernoon. 
 
 Yours, truly, R. Little. 
 
 Because it is my aim to show, as far as possi- 
 ble, the true workings of Mr. Little's mind, I 
 copy all that I find of what he was led to give 
 me in writing, pertaining to myself, previous to 
 our marriage. The two following are without 
 date, and with a form of prayer of his own, bring 
 this portion of my work to a close. 
 
 Do you wish to know what induced me to go 
 to your father's and call upon you at that time ? 
 I will tell you. On Friday previous, perhaps you 
 will recollect being at the store and speaking to 
 me about getting some books for you. I then 
 supposed from wliat I could discover, that you 
 were desirous of communicating something to 
 me, which you could not, on account of some 
 one being present. Knowing that you could not 
 ask for an opportunity, I thought it incumbent 
 on me to ofi'er one, and could think of no place 
 80 appropriate as your father's. How mistaken 
 
 I was in my surmises you can tell, and how im- 
 proper the course I took, you can judge also. 
 My first reception was polite indeed and charm- 
 ing beyond expression ; it but illy prepared me 
 for what was so soon to follow. 
 
 But as it was for your sake that I encountered 
 it, I complain not ; my own purposes would not 
 have led me there at that time. 
 
 THE CONTRAST. 
 
 A modest, meek, imploring, confiding, tender 
 look — not devoid of solicitude — and full of inno- 
 cence and sweetness. 
 
 Oh ! wear that look again for me. 
 
 A distant look of icy coldness — not devoid of 
 reproach — and expressive of injured feeling or 
 offended pride. 
 
 Oh ! never wear that look for me. 
 
 I may not speak of the following as pertain- 
 ing directly to myself, but rather indirectly. 
 
 Supremely wise, supremely high and holy 
 God! we would come before thee at this time 
 with humility and meekness of spirit, acknow- 
 ledging our sins and many transgressions ; ac- 
 knowledging our own helplessness and our entire 
 dependence on thee, our Creator, our preserver, 
 and our great and only benefactor. Give us hearts 
 of gratitude, God ! for all the mercies which 
 we are daily and hourly receiving at thy hands. 
 Enable us to call home our wandering thoughts, 
 that are too apt to stray far from thee, and to 
 dwell on the vanities of the world. Cast us not 
 off", God ! nor forsake us, but be thou our 
 guide and our protector. Forgive us all our past 
 sins, we pray thee. Protect us from sin and 
 every evil in future, and guide us in the ways of 
 righteousness and truth, that we may stray no 
 more. Enable us to live as accountable and de- 
 pendent creatures. Continue tliy mercies, and 
 extend thy blessings to uis, we beseech thee. 
 Bless us in our endeavors to be useful to our- 
 seh^es and our fellow-creatures while on earth. 
 
 God! enable me, thine unworthy servant, 
 I pray thee, to do my duty towards the children 
 which thou hast given, and permitted to remain 
 with me to the present time. Give mo wisdom and 
 grace from on high to deal with them, as in duty 
 bound, as their earthly parent. But, God I my 
 arm is but the arm of flesh, weak indeed, and frail 
 as the morning flower. Wilt thou therefore, 
 God ! extend thy protecting care, and thy bene- 
 ficent hand to them ? Encircle them in the arms 
 of thy love. Preserve th6m from the evil tempt- 
 ations, from the follies and vanities of the world, 
 and guide their young and tender minds in the 
 ways of virtue, of truth, and of peace. 
 
 Give them hearts of love to one another. Give 
 them to know and do their duty towards their 
 remaining earthly parent and their fellow-beings ; 
 and as they grow in years may they grow in 
 grace and usefulness, and in knowledge of thee 
 their heavenly Father. 
 
 Make the path of duty plain before them, 
 God ! and give them hearts to walk therein. 
 
 Bless them in all their useful endeavors, and in 
 all their laudable undertakings through life ; and 
 may we all be finally received into thy j^resence, 
 to dwell with thee through a never-ending eter- 
 
A MOTHKKS PKACK OKKKKINO. 
 
 25 
 
 nitjr, niid llie praiae, God ! wball ba thitio for 
 orermoro. Aiuen. 
 
 Ti. 
 
 ^T-. ,1 !.. -,,. 1 
 
 /iM imrui, CuUl«.'!vi lo liW ItiiuriU-^.i HUJ ciiOfWH iH-ii, 
 
 that t.e waM willio^f tu rank among t)iofH< thai 
 prav. I have learned llmi tlm niotlier of th" 
 childwu who ari< xuIijl'cIm of iho prnjcr uIxjvo 
 quoted, four }•' — '■ ' . i ...i ...,i,i m,j 
 
 found poacr Aa h 
 
 natural con". _ ^ i that ht-r 
 
 hUHbund andciniuren Niiouiu LtToiue [-artukern of 
 thi.H K^ace of life. Hut ho n-pulHcd hor in a man- 
 nor of which I will uol Mptak here, (but may 
 horeafler,) and left htr with a greatly lrit'<l fitith, 
 to walk alono (in her hou^e) before the God of 
 tlio everlasting covtiiant. 
 
 Nearly one year before Mm. I.itile'rt death, 
 (iCorg«, their youngest, and a niO.>(liuiort»tinv,'child 
 ofaix yearr, (lickenod and died. Th< n Mr. Litllo 
 WU9 heard to cxpre.^s a conviction of the truth 
 that Mr«. Liltlo had, in her faith, a support which 
 w Mm. He hHS told me, that his grief 
 
 11 nf that child, wrh t^j him a acem- 
 
 ; - .1 ' . ..., -. .) ; .. I .-.r ll., t t,.,.I 
 
 I 
 
 l.y, 
 
 liuDs riiliier tiinn u !teli-ilfcvivud nmn ; iua.xtiiucii 
 na he told me, l<oforo my own marriage, that the 
 death of Mrs. Little was no great aniiction to him, 
 becau.so aho h^d no nfl.-ction for him, and very 
 little for her children. Tni.'t announcement wan 
 to me then " a mvHtery," given for time to un- 
 fold. What timf haa done for me, I am endeav- 
 oring that thene jwgea alinll do for others — for the 
 beneQt of those who shall come after. At the 
 time of my marriage, Mr. Litllo had, through 
 (iod'n di.<*pen.<«atioiia thwarting his own expecla- 
 i: ' ' ' ■ • ' ' ' ' •' ,n when, 
 
 i: lationa 
 
 ...;. ^-. ;..... ....rid. he 
 
 V «fr than s.<< a child of light, simply 
 
 1 1 1 studied and practiced in the way 
 
 wriiitii •nil bv proper authorities longer. Never- 
 tholea*!. hkn Saul of TarsuH, he now p^ay^ And 
 li ' ' yoe, iho prayer of the blind, 
 
 a: ■ Hervant or handmaid ici go and 
 
 lenu r 1. 11 .'> Mi'j itand, till the sciiles shall fall 
 from their evee. 
 
 And was Uii.t to be my hlis-^ful misaion ? To 
 take lhi.'« toil-worn son of Adam by the hand, or 
 walk In'fore him in the narrow way, till he shotild 
 tind the green pastures and tho still waters, 
 where hi» faintinur soul mikrht be restored before 
 ! ' ' ; ' • I> : ■'. ^<j. this would have 
 
 1 t, the enemy of all 
 
 ^ . . .. .1 way to deMtroy his 
 
 contidence in mo. Tnis, 1 am fully persuaded, ho 
 did by disguising himself in tho pnrh of an angel of 
 mercy in tho form of hi;' thy. 
 
 However, tho work i, was given to 
 
 her whom I should, un>irr i.oi, n ' ' 
 
 purpose; and did I not ." , in u 
 
 tho evidence of things n^t Heei>, Ih';... . ; 
 
 loader and tho led) in the " bettor land " of which 
 our "green paaturea and Pliil wattrs" are but 
 typ«.\s I could not e.\pect to survive the labor of 
 writing out tho coming .'^eciions of this cbapu?r. 
 
 BtCTIOX IL 
 
 LK.«rr n>y work in there sections b« looked ujion 
 
 »u „ .... ..t.f.. ,.! ll .. If, ,.,.,. :.ii „ »i..i ..f recent 
 
 . of my 
 with a 
 viuw lo aiiuwiiig liww ..r u/i>(<' uiy i^itrX Kp«>k<« 
 out of it" Mbuf!"lii«i«'« duriri' (!ii« jori"! ■ t-r wh'-n 
 one stai v, 
 
 while I 'it 
 
 s'jch ft' K 
 
 for its I r 
 
 ill it* c ^ l 
 
 leans, 
 
 rrevious to my marriage, Mr. Little told m» 
 he believed thoce families were mo»i happy wlio 
 dispensed with hired servants, and inquired if I 
 wore willing to do with the assistance of his 
 daughters, by hiring washiog aiid »uch work as 
 we were not suflicient for. 
 
 To this I readily aasented. The first summer 
 after my marriage, an ngod woman wl o had 
 been much in the fdniily during Mrs. Little's life, 
 came lo me with an important nietiRaye. Mrs. 
 Little, before her decease, la 1 htr, if 
 
 she should live to sto t!:e s. ' in hfr 
 
 ,..., 1, ,., 1,11 i)m( 8co>i,d 1...... .V was her 
 
 '>uld teach her daughters inJuj>(ty 
 
 .Mr. Liiilu al-so told me, that she had said to 
 him, she hoped ho would r.ever bring a godless 
 woman into his family, and showed me the leaf 
 turned by her own hand in tho family Hible to 
 the chapter giving an account of Abraharn's fend- 
 ing hi.s servant to tind a wife for his con Isaac. 
 Thus was I mado to feel that God had been 
 sending nie hither in answer to the prayers of the 
 pious dead. 
 
 I engaged in the work of teaohineandbarning 
 with high hopes and new-(iuBhe<i i"ys, and for a 
 time all went on prosperously. ! ' ' iw 
 there was a defective .«yFtem of p t 
 
 rather a defective govemmenl b<x.. , ril 
 
 system, but did not expect to legislate lo the 
 revolutionizing of tho house ; for I disclaimf d all 
 jurisdiction where I was not the natural or dele- 
 gated ruler, and no one can delegate n yower h« 
 does not possess. My huxljand larked suthnrilv, 
 and there was in his fumily an evil, like hered- 
 itary taint in tho systcn- • ' ' rno with and 
 carefully treated until, j may l>e out- 
 
 grown. I!f.'<ide, 1 hnvi wn that I. a« 
 
 as a woman, held te my right of leaving men and 
 larger boys to govern themselves and efif«h o?her ; 
 while I was ever ready to grant • 'o 
 
 the best of my ability, to such as w to 
 
 come to nie f'r it. with ; - * " ' •■, 
 
 place, and manner. T ::g 
 
 to the principles I hnd 1:: - . : -d 
 
 the work and ways of the house of my hiiabaod, 
 carrying cut his suggfiioun as far as in my 
 power, was my field of labor. To thi* I Jis^idu- 
 ouiilv applied mvfielt' and with na much cei niing 
 
 .il 
 .;..... . .. , .. ..■'*, 
 
 and I WHS >•• 'f of lh» 
 
 ."ubjects of . 11.1 fur as 
 
 requested. 
 
 Hut in doing thia, I was discovered by the 
 children and thfir sympathizers to bo seimir a 
 very selfish as well as a very unf^shioiai/ic ]>urt. 
 
26 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 No sooner did a reflux influence reach the 
 family through the complaints of the children 
 under the new state of thing?, from those who 
 stood without, taking observations, than did dark- 
 ness brood over the countenance of my husband 
 toward me. This being attended with silence, 
 left me to " conjecture only" with respect to the 
 real or imagined wrong I had done. It had 
 been my fortune through all of my school life, 
 to be left to discover the thoughts upon the 
 printed page, without aid from a living teacher. 
 
 Why my heavenly Father should give me so 
 great a thirst for knowledge, and yet conflne me 
 to so limited a stream, had been to me, iu early 
 life, a mystery. 
 
 Now was I in an early stage of my married 
 life left to wonder at the dealings of his provi- 
 dence, through the dealings of my husband toward 
 me. 
 
 In all my experience and observation, I had 
 not met a government where sentence was pro- 
 nounced and executed without a specified offense. 
 My husband had placed in my hands the papers 
 fi'om which I had learned 1 is ideas of female 
 training and female character; and I had been 
 made happy in seeing that my fortune enabled 
 me to meet his demands on that score. 
 
 Yet it was evident his claims were not met; 
 and to learn the cause and the remedy, if possible, 
 was a new study put into my hands,(shall I say?) 
 nay, but into my head and my heart ; for me- 
 thinks the heart had now somewhat to do. While 
 I wondered at the wajs of my Maker in these 
 new dispensations, I was not left to distrust. I 
 believed and rested on the word which teacheth 
 that all things shall work for good to those that 
 love God. 
 
 That I loved God was proved to my own con- 
 sciousness, by the sweet communings I enjoyed 
 with him through his word and prayer, both in 
 the closet and the public sanctuary. Toat, under 
 God, I loved my husband, was proved to me by 
 the pain experienced, when sweet communings 
 were denied me, without any explained cause. 
 But as I was treated by him with a formal re- 
 spect before others, I had only to lock my sor- 
 rows in my lonely, restless bosom, except as I 
 poured them out before One who invites the 
 heavy-laden to come unto him for rest. Whether 
 another among the daugliters of men has poured 
 out such a profusion of sorrows to this Omnipo- 
 tent Receiver, is known only to himself; but of 
 this I am confident, he is precious to the soul, in 
 proportion as he has taken off its burden ; and he 
 has taken from my soul an amount sufficient to 
 have crushed me to a literal death a thousand 
 times, but for this relief. For this cause I can 
 no more write an epistle which does not resound 
 his praise, than coali the Apostle, who was as 
 one born out of due time. 
 
 What could be the cause of my husband's dis- 
 affection? True, his children were disorderly, 
 but that was not a new thing, and therefore 
 could not be my fault. Bssides, there was an 
 evident improvement in the general aspect of the 
 house. They groaned under the toils of life, light 
 as they were in comparison with those about 
 them. But to groan under the burden of life is 
 the lot of mortals. 
 
 They were healthy and strong. Their father 
 was sole proprietor of the oldest and most pros- 
 
 perous mercantile establishment in the town, 
 beside owning real estate which he valued at 
 live or six thousand dollars. The latter alone 
 constitutes a healthy working family rich in such 
 a town as ours. 
 
 Mr. Little desired and expected his to be a 
 working family. This he taught them by pre- 
 cept and example. But how was this teaching 
 to be enforced? Ah! here was the difficulty. 
 Strict frugality and economy had ever been asso- 
 ciated with the name of the house. But for a 
 mother-in-law to appoint duties which had been 
 performed by hired help during the life of the 
 natural mother, to the daughters whose mother 
 had been laid to rest in the .grave, was seen to be 
 an absurd abuse of power, a cruelty which 
 called aloud for indignation. When rumors of 
 this reached my ears through the children, I 
 treated the affair as I had learned during my 
 teacher-life, to treat similar oflenses, which must 
 needs come in such a world as ours. I knew 
 from whom I had accepted my call to the office 
 I held, and the instructions I had received, 
 and with studying to keep a conscience void of 
 offense toward God and toward man, I was will- 
 ing to wait for time to report between myself and 
 neighbors, who was the most wise in her own 
 house. 
 
 To my husband I felt myself bound to do a'l 
 things agreeably to his will, as far as in my 
 power. I can now conscientiously say that I 
 can not recall an instance when he ever asked a 
 favor or a service of me to himself, to which I 
 did not cheerfully respond, so long as he suffered 
 me to live with him. But he had expectations 
 which could not in the nature of things be rea- 
 lized. I once heard him tell our little boy that 
 when himself a boy his father hired him to a 
 man who scolded him, and he ran away. My in- 
 ference is, that he never yielded to any authority 
 of parent or master in early life, but was taught 
 by a necessity (the curse more than the blessing 
 of which had fixed his mental gaze) to govern 
 the outward man rather than the inward spirit; 
 and as he increased in stature and in favor with 
 man, he increased in strength of purpose that his 
 own will shotild be done. He was fully sensible 
 of his dependence upon man (in the masculine 
 form) for the management of afl'airs, so as to carry 
 out his own decrees. By exercising faith in 
 man, he gained honnr from man, aud to one who 
 by his own personal efforts has elevated himself 
 so as to receive from man the plaudit, " Well 
 done," honor from ivoman and from God must 
 come as a matter of course, or rather as a matter 
 of merit. When, in his experience, the honor 
 which he received from woman was only in pro- 
 portion to the faith he had in her, and the conse- 
 quent honor he bestowed upon her, and al-^o the 
 honor received from God similarly proportioned, 
 instead of meekly studying to solve the mystery, 
 or to search out the cause he kneiu not, he suffered 
 his spirit to chafe as a volcanic fire in the moun- 
 tain's breast. After the death of her whom he 
 had chosen in youth to be the partner of his life, 
 he doubtless saw something of his past errors; 
 aud at the time he selected one who was in vis- 
 ible communion with the Church on earth, (a 
 communion which his spirit had denied to her 
 who had now joined the Cliurch triumphant,) he 
 possessed an increase of faith in woman and in 
 God. But he had given to his cliildren, by heri- 
 
A MOTIIEIlS PKAC^: OFFEIUNO. 
 
 27 
 
 Uitre and br cduralion. a predomiDancs of the I wiitdum lot hint »nk of Go<<, that Rivc-th to all 
 
 ^...: W, '-. -- 1 : . .. I . . .1 I l.l 1',.. _. .1 ... 1 ...,.l. .1. ..• ...i .1 .l-ll 
 
 to it. lind ' would l<iivi< 
 
 »<6tii tliatl)i<' li wuinuti niid 
 
 in God, uiid li.ui \iuw in.ii i .\ j . : .• ntf \v. n- i.r- 
 ocBStrj' to fool out tliocrron* wliich would i-ptirn; 
 rruiii Muclt a aoil uuder eudi culture an tiad been 
 friven. 
 
 I Iw ".•■."" r. ■ „. ,,1 t.. 1^, tliM- I hav» 
 
 nivur • ilian I 
 
 have ii: i. ;.> popu- 
 
 lar fuvor, uiid I 6iu UilUrr lliuit lliti aviruco i>t' 
 iDPTi. 1 «>Tp«>oi my chddreu to do aa well oh 1 
 1 " iu<>ri> nutward rcfliMiiii. 
 
 1 oJ. Ho in ftulv lir.' H' w 
 
 ttie pititoiMe M tnado (• > 
 iiuiirdtif;, thiit. the wo'd : 
 iniiislator. Thv pruDiiac i» mudc tu ai 
 1 mil one. 
 
 -7 ex- 
 
 . i>r I he 
 
 1, uf wbou 
 
 • ■ \ 
 
 in iile had aet out Uj i- 
 liMjkinjf r»r a miruciiloun 
 I H»U.> iiijiiit (iWD apirit ; ■■' 
 I'rii'iifd, Ut> t-uflTcrod the >■ 
 
 ! <i 
 
 ffforl ncfilii;! fur tiicD'. He iinturaliy oxp«x-ted 
 that a neriso of trratiludo would lead them to re- 
 aptcl and obt-y him. Hut they could no more 
 appreciate what they had never been deprived 
 
 * of lile. The tlrst moiher of 
 
 1 lul, (as I waa told by a youi'fr 
 
 !»oy who oin.o Hcted as fjovemesa in the family,) 
 that when her huahand wns irone to New- York 
 lor a w ' ' ■ ' to jcot the cliiliiren 
 
 unilfr . It na aorm as tl" ir 
 
 laliier : ; ..^..^ ...>•( all undone. Thi> 
 
 elde!>t daughter aaid to I^nt Roy* while he lived 
 «o near ua, after my labors commenced in tho 
 family, as to we for him.self somethinpr of her 
 oourw" n*. hoTP: ' The reason I am so bad is bc- 
 I ' botn governed. My mother 
 
 ^\ I'd me, but my father alw:»ys 
 
 lercd the family, I bad dealt with 
 I' ' mind too lontf t4) exp*'-"'" t.. <; ix mid 
 
 reap on tho same day. I knew tb.i° lt 
 
 effort in one direction or another - : >r 
 
 every miod that ia deotinrd to l>ear rcitpouhibili- 
 tiM of its own. 
 
 Toe: • ■ ■ • 1 it, 
 
 was I o 
 
 muih I.* . , V . . . „ , of 
 
 keeping; a written roconi wh; I with- 
 
 out misnko. nt t^" t-nd of i,: • dfp<->rt- 
 
 ment r 'om of the Ho.xiuntal.;e. Aa I 
 
 could • ■ in \\>o «-K(vr.l r<^w b'-'bro roe, 
 
 u But 
 r 'd of it, 
 
 abolia'.ed. Nfy work 
 
 daun*'.ters. WhaU-ver t 
 
 carryiDg out reporta, or bnosrin^f in petiliocs to 
 
 the head from whom I re«"pived infttmcti"i:« W 
 
 known to the Jud^e of ail the earth. Ii i 
 
 runde any inquirie.'' or wrii'un any n 
 
 lioune. \^'hat h« /'luo Mriileii 1. wiil c >)>y ii<lo 
 tliif"; and what he l.n* spoWcn I can tiisilf (^i«e 
 y> The llrnt direct or i-pecidc 
 
 T' ^ wise: I spoke to him of the 
 
 ■ r'' •»-. 1 1 '■■"> He only 
 
 , ling di- 
 rectly to teacii the uaofciiter to rum her own 
 spint, and drove mc to t'H< inner fancHnry for 
 
 aelf For I ite- 
 \ from God, when 
 
 a more c-^mplcte ( 
 
 lioved that the en 
 
 le fdv.", " He that n..- 1 -.-,..-. ,, 
 
 l:e lh>il laketh a city.' •< 
 
 wtil u."* her lord, and th.i'. : - .- -. — . : .u 
 
 ihia, a.s in other right way.^, brings >ts reward. 
 
 The next rebuke came in this furm : "You pro- 
 frps to desire to do (icod. Never was a belter 
 field open before one, and you have rcfii»ed Ut 
 occupy." I waa greatly surprised and preadv 
 grieved at (he charge, and besoui^ht him to tc I 
 some particular inatanct 3 where I !■ ' ' ■ '■ ni 
 ihe wrong. He roi>lii'd : *' I won'i ■> 
 
 particulars ; your whole spirit i'f w > ir 
 
 un uiider-curreDt for the deatructiou uf uiyci:lf 
 and house." 
 
 I 8 ■]• -f'd him that in all my course 
 
 I had '. na to the brsi of inv judff- 
 
 meut lie ! ; d: " Tl - ■' • 't 
 
 much " I lad great gr 
 
 rrttion. I feh my weaki.' - j. jI 
 
 I had comfort in ihe promico : 'The meek wiil 
 he guide in ji;dgment ; the inotk v-;ll le leach 
 his law." I had r.owopoort'ii ' ractioo 
 
 of meekness such na I never i. 
 
 The next • ' " ^r 
 
 veHPH ((f.» r ; '' 
 
 "-... ..:.. . I 
 
 Ihulii, and i<U)(K«'^l li>e 
 oTtf of thpfn from home 
 
 i', and waited to sec how on/z-r might bo main- 
 liined under another dis<.-ipline. I now had oc- 
 oa.>-i'ip to lake to Gcd a promi'sory note piven 
 Willi tho .'^auction of his own namo, and nrjje itn- 
 mediaie payment. It wa-« written by hit aerv 
 
 iovo and proiiii!«;fl ol kmuiie** had wmi 
 heart could hnve wiid to me a^ I would hav 
 
 !.. h.m: ■■ r:. 
 
 i>N..i.- 1 -.^ 
 
 and liid obts. <■:,'-•• n. »i i- i>. i.-- ivnp 'i i 
 
 my 
 ■aid 
 
 lut Jame^, aiid ia as follows : " If any of you lack lucjiiut for openlf rebuking a daughter, and 
 
28 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 pronounced me " insignificant and contemptible." 
 i ceased to reprove. I expected by a correct 
 course io his eyes to become restored to his 
 favor. I expected that time would show the 
 true cause of, and the true remedy for, the ills 
 which then wounded his peace, and at least to 
 be able to smooth his passage to the grave, and 
 point him, as he looked for a security which 
 money or lands can not give, to the Lamb of 
 God who takelh away the sin of the world. 
 But while I ceased to reprove, I controlled the 
 work of my own hands, and governed the child 
 whom God had given me according to my own 
 judgment, treati:ig with due respect (as far as I 
 understood) all those with whom I came in con- 
 tact either at home or abroad. I had no conten- 
 tion with my husband, or with his children, or 
 with the neighbors. God prospered me in the 
 work of my hands. I fflt that my husband and 
 his children hated me without cause. I was in- 
 Uirmed that very much was said against me. I 
 had once said in my house my faith is : " Take 
 care of character, and reputation will take care 
 of itself." My husband now told me: "Your 
 reputation is very low." I received the state- 
 ment iu silence, grieved at the change which had 
 come over him. I felt as strong and as pure in 
 character hs when, according to his own testi- 
 mony, my reputation was high. 
 
 For tbe sake of contrast, I will relate the fol- 
 lowing: In June of the summer in which my 
 husband first paid his addresses to me, and 
 whicii had their commencement in August, a 
 friend of mine gave me this compliment. She 
 said a lady of Egreipont inquired of her if Miss 
 Roys wa-i about to be married. She replied, 
 not that she knew of. The lady says: "Mr. 
 
 , of Sheffield, told va that a widower 
 
 upon the plain is going to marry the best sjirl in 
 Sheffield, and ive thought it must be Miss Roys." 
 Twelve years later, another friend looked from 
 the window of a house upon the plain, and said 
 to the fiimily as she saw me entering the yard : 
 "Mrs. Little is coming in." A matron, who had 
 been nursing the sick of the neighborhood, 
 sprang to look out at the window, saying : " I 
 do want to see that woman. I have been two 
 years in the neighborhood, and I have not 
 heard as much said about any other person as 
 about her; and I have not heard any one speak 
 in her favor except yourself." She had a glimpse 
 of my face, and said further: " Why, she doesn't 
 look as if she need be very bad." But why so 
 much said against one who harmed nobody? 
 Simpl? because I did not create peace and 
 remove evil from the hearts of tbe motherless 
 children, or of the father who would not be com- 
 forted because they were not. I had ceased to 
 write or to speak their faults. I ever stood 
 leady to counsel when my counsel should be 
 asked. And I was endeavoring to teach the 
 motherless daughters indmiry and religion, by 
 doing my own proper work, and perfofming my 
 own devotions, and suffering my little child to come 
 unto Christ in his appointed way, in doing unto my 
 neighbors as I woiM that they should do unto me, 
 aiiU especially in fretting not mj^self because of 
 evil-doers ? What if they did not love to be thus 
 taught ? It was their mother's desire, and I was 
 working with reference to an examination where 
 she would be present, and a report be read of 
 all my doings as well as their own. And if it 
 
 should then h'^ said of me, " She hath done 
 what she could," I should have an abundant re- 
 compense, yea, a great reward. 
 
 One thing was apparent to me which tbe pub- 
 lic did not see. My husband saw me just as his 
 children saw me. But he was silent. The 
 children seemed to see it wrong that I and my 
 offspring should be partakers with them of their 
 father's Jove or money. That they should see 
 thus, or that they should find sympathizers, did 
 not surprise me. I had mingled with the 
 world enough to learn its ways here ere I under- 
 took the great work of attempting to do right, 
 " not to speak of the difficulty of doing what 
 should be pronounced right by others." But my 
 husband had not thus mingled with the world, 
 nor thus learned. He had let alone the business 
 of sympathizing with the unfortunate, because 
 the business of helping himself demanded all his 
 powers. He had heard the popular voice 
 against step-mothers, and had admitted it as 
 truth in which he had no concern. He had 
 seen me take in charge schools which were dis- 
 orderly and noisy, and reduce them to order and 
 quiet. He had not been present to see by what 
 method I had eflecled this. He only saw re- 
 sults. He confidently locked for similar results 
 from my influence in his family. But he felt in 
 duty bound to abolish every method I pursued 
 to which his children brought a remoi:istrance 
 with the sanction of some body without. I 
 yielded with due deference to him whom I was 
 bound to revere; and just in proportion as this 
 combined counsel gained influence, did discon- 
 tenf, and hatred, and variance, and strife in- 
 crease, and my husband, and children, and 
 neightiors seem to see me to be the author of it all. 
 But my husband's outward or worldly prudence 
 did not forsake him. He did not openly censure 
 where he could prove no fault, but put lui the 
 stoic, set trials at defiance, and waited to see 
 what would come of it. He gradually witlidrew 
 from pubhc worship and social visits or gather- 
 ings, except to go by himself among his married 
 children. But he was a pattern man in all busi- 
 ness transactions as well as in his agricultural 
 pursuits. In these he buried himself as much as 
 possible ; coming to his house for food and lodg- 
 ing and to greet his family with his accustomed 
 gravity, and to suffer none but his niotherlesa 
 children to pour into his ear a persona! v/ant or 
 a personal complaint, lest ha should be tempted 
 to give unto others what hy heritage belonged 
 unto them. 
 
 This I saw written in dqrV characters, which 
 none but myself was HuUcred to read. There- 
 fore I was not at liberty to publish, lest I should 
 add to all my other real and seeming crimes 
 that of libel. Now that he hath written it out 
 by his own deeds, I feel at liberty to pubhsh, 
 that when my friends shall again ask, T-F7io,has 
 broken the covenant? Who dissolved the union ? 
 they may read and judge for themstlves. 
 
 When in my earlier years I entered into 
 covenant with a Heavenly Bridegrrom, whose 
 coming dissolves that of the earthly, he gave me 
 a Testament sealed with hia own blood, be- 
 queathing rich legacies, and among them the fol- 
 lowing : " I will not leave you comfortless." 
 
 To prove that he hath not broken his pro- 
 mise, I will now copy from my correspondence 
 (if I may be allowed the expression) with this 
 
A MOTIIKK's peace OKFEKlNf;. 
 
 29 
 
 Divine pereonn(^c, or the private Jounikl which 
 ti'Ua of my tekiug and ruceiving from bim. 
 
 I1....V I ,■■,;. It- v.i;.;,.Vi.— Tho iMt I 
 iiily a.-* n mcni- 
 l for Diy in»r- 
 riam- lu Mr. LilUf, to wlii*o huiuu I i.xpoct lu 
 rimovo, aixl in Iho S<«ripKir<' •"•n«o, l»'nv<i my 
 (li'.ir lather . ■ 
 tlxni uuJ 
 
 \ > II rhaDKCtli nut. ii::!* truiii lvL-t:|>.t my iiuu<i lu 
 jrtacL. >fay a heavenly latlur'ji bk-saiojr ntt<'f!»! 
 iiio wherovLT I go, ami I I'O maik- n 1 
 A nd oh ! may my dear parentjj bo ma ' 
 in the deoUno of life, pcac-oAil in dealh, ui:u 1 
 liil in eternity. 
 
 Ajjnl \2(L — May ^raco bo given mo to i: 
 charge the oblik^utioun of tlio covenant into wliich 
 I have now entered. 
 
 Ayrtl \Ath. — Caino with Mr. Littio to his hoose, 
 which is now mr earthlv home. 
 
 to b. ;. 
 
 It risolulions, do- 
 
 pondiug uu divuie ui<t lu ciiubid mc to perfomi. 
 
 In regard to myself, I imrposo on no day to omit 
 
 the reading of the word of God, aud prayer. 
 
 Yes, prayer. Hero is my sweetest ho|)e. Let 
 
 :: ' • - n.s I fdiall remain undiT this rn • 
 
 it the morning and evening sacr; 
 
 at Jacob. I^t mo daily seek In 
 
 -rraco to lead me to a proper discharge 
 
 • . .'A this family. Let me daily ask for 
 
 tht;m, cacli of them, the especial blessing of God, 
 
 for the Spirit to lend th'in by rep<iitaiico and 
 
 ' "' ' ....... ^ ■■ 'he world. Let 
 
 . patience, and 
 
 , or sufferings, 
 
 . consequence of my 
 Let mo ever seek 
 to f» .-;$i-.-< aii'i in iLik.-i toward them the spirit of 
 kindn'-'^o Rfid i»tVp<-tii)n. 
 
 Sir >-lf-inlcr- 
 
 ch; ^l to those 
 
 b« guvcruod by itiu ruio to tiu by Ui(.-iii na I 
 would that one in similar oircnmi!t;inccs aliould 
 do by my own. Kvor acting as in view of tlio 
 judgment of the great day whrn I shall meet 
 
 to-day have led me to fix upon Friday next aa a 
 
 day of ! ' ■ ' • ' • - !,iu 
 
 a of 
 
 ' - ' r.ccortiing 
 
 ' hat, as a 
 due from mo ; i 
 c nfTcctioa and ' 
 
 X weeks 
 
 iheir 
 to tl 
 
 M;. 
 wifo. : are 
 
 and : > t' 
 
 fiuthfui:iiv-s due in V..v 
 
 if ay 2S0i, 1837, .~ 
 last Friday I loft tlv 
 this, my now abo<le. 
 
 more in accordance w. , 
 
 pected, and I can not hn\. enterum stT' 
 that I may hero be b]os.-;o<l and m.-ido a 
 
 June Ilk, 1S37. W'.lntf'idy Eve, — My \,ua- 
 b.'iud absent Left this morning for Xow-York. 
 The fimily retiretl in safety and comfort, through 
 a kind and merciful providence. My retlectious 
 
 . are ill© way^ of Prx-vi- 
 dtiictj. May v.ii uw with onr n. ".r 
 
 liandji liml to do. boon sliall we in 
 
 '.1th h-nd our flret rc-citation in Uie 
 
 .... .,.ol f.- " • - ■ ^' •■ • —The 
 
 Eight ]. I he 
 
 :i a happy < ■ --l- 
 
 iug. May the Saviuuf blcad tliu liuiii lo the 
 
 iioart.'^ of th«> oiirht. .md of all others in Uic 
 
 to take rcf\igo in Him 
 
 . '"'1 
 conduct me 10 a rigiit discharge ottlie Uuiii-a and 
 obligations which this vow impoFea upon me, 
 and all my covenant vowsl aud incline the heart 
 of myself and companion to walk in Uio path 
 
 -e. My 
 
 , .-. ^ ... .J than I 
 
 lo4.>ked tor. In liie iriend that God ha^ given 
 me. I llnd more tliat is agreeable to my own 
 mind than I expected. 
 
 22 J, tVidatj F.i'f. — .Aft^r fptirincr for the 
 
 night, my 1 " ' ' ' ::ot 
 
 slct-p. Thi Iig 
 
 •■ ■' viy hu.-i....,-. ,i...,.i.-. . . - .. »,-,.; )■.../.....-.. i of 
 
 ' f my doingii in relation to visiting and 
 
 1 know my inclination may, and probably has 
 led me astray in these particulars, as well as in 
 others. I would be humble and reform wherever 
 I have erred, and seek to be more fully informe<l 
 of hi.s mind. 
 
 Where w the sincere and candid friend of 
 wliom I may inquire what are my faults in cba- 
 rncter and ever)- d;iy deportment ? that when 
 thus informed I.may make it the subject of my 
 prayers, and the object of my every day efforts 
 to correct them. 
 
 W\ ' • ' lof 
 
 good JT. 
 
 >■' .-r- 
 
 ral 
 
 Atler tiic exaiiipk- ot Abrahain, riij<' lar.) and 
 sarrificc sloth, prid". w^rldly-mindf 'in<^«. and 
 the sinful j irt 
 
 that in the • ay 
 
 :-'■••';■! .i.r. L.' i^.-i J. n, ■....--. o will 
 
 I ■ i le. 
 
 A.— My husband k' no fr tlie rest of 
 the week ta New- York. Xf. and un- 
 
 happy Still fh" '••,)b'-^'>t of mercies. 
 
 I .-dl have 
 
 i&l 
 
 I he 
 
 . .elf 
 
 i ; to pray that he wid make us 
 
 . ach other, and lead us in our duty 
 
 to ail , U.at if it bo God's will that I shall become 
 
 a natural mother, ho will proj^ire mc for the 
 
 event ; causo \i\ai it rp.<nilt in liis glory, and the 
 
 linal good of all cotmected Vi-ith it 
 
30 
 
 A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 Nvv. 18i^, ISST. — Resume ray diary, which I 
 Lave several weeks neglected. Fear that I shall 
 break a resolution I made in earlier life, namely, 
 that the cares of a famDy shall not deter me from 
 writing, as I have thought is too often the case 
 with my sex. Extract from a sermon by Rev. 
 Mr. Turner: "An impenitent sinner can not be 
 indiflerent in the midst of so much divinity as 
 reflects from the countenance and demeanor of 
 the faithful Christian." 
 
 Dec. id, 1837. — Another winter has commenc- 
 ed. May I enjoy the presence of my Saviour, a 
 sense of his love, and conformity to his precepts, 
 that my soul may not mourn a mental winter 
 fiercer than nature feels. Being circumstanced 
 to prevent so regular an attendance at the house 
 of God upon his holy dayas I have hitherto been 
 hccustomed to, I fear lest I shall misimprove tbe 
 hallowed hours, and find barrenness in spiritual 
 li'uit a consequence. 
 
 my Saviour! be present to raise the heart 
 of tby servant in heavenly contemplation and 
 holy devotion on thy sacrtd day. Inspire her 
 heart with prayer to heaven, arouse her from 
 sluggishness, pity her frailty, pardon her crimes, 
 guide her in duty to her frends, and prepare her 
 so to live that thou mayest be honored; so to die, 
 that to her it may be gain. 
 
 31*/. — My husband tliis day complete=i his 
 fifty-third year. May the ensuing year be one of 
 many blessings to him ; blessings of provideuce 
 and of grace, particularly the latter. 
 
 Thankful should I be that my dearest friends are 
 sjjared to me end to themselves through another 
 year; humble for ingratitude, unbelief, and all 
 sin which our heavenly Father has recorded 
 against us. May his forgiveness be sought and 
 obtained ; may his bles.sing attend and spirit 
 guide us through another year, if we may be 
 spared; and if called from time before its cJose, 
 may we be found in Christ, and raised to an ever- 
 enduring home where peace and love exist with- 
 out mixture. 
 
 Jan. \st, 1S3S. — Another year has passed, 
 fraught with mercies toward me. I have learned 
 to look for ill in tliis sinful world. Yes, we must 
 constantly witness iu ourselves and others, that 
 sin and suffering which shall move us to pity and 
 deplore. 
 
 But mercies more than I dared expect, more 
 than I could reasonably hope for, have been and 
 are still bestowed upon me. The powers of body 
 and mind, the comforts of a home with all needful 
 supplies, the blessing of friends, particularly the 
 kiadness and afitction of a bosom companion, the 
 various means for an increase of grace and know- 
 ledge, are all occasions for devout thanksgiving to 
 the great Author of my being, and of all my bless- 
 ings. But what returns do I make? I have 
 occasion for tbe deepest humiliation and abase- 
 ment before that exalted Being the High and 
 Holy One who inhabiteth eternity, and jet con- 
 descendeth to dwell with him that is of a humble 
 and contrite .spirit. For more than six years I 
 have rejoiced in the evidence of pardon through 
 the great Mediator, the Son of his love. But when 
 I examine into the degree of patience, meekness, 
 kindness, forbearance, forgiveness, charity, self- 
 denial, fidelity, and all the Christian duties re- 
 quired in the Gospel, which I have been led to 
 practice, I can truly say with Paul, What I 
 would, that I do not ; and the evil I would not, 
 
 that T do. I liavc endeavored this day to ask for 
 an increase of vital piety ; wisdom to guide me 
 in all duty and in every difficulty, and grace to 
 prepare me for every event awaiting me this year, 
 particularly in reference to the expected event of 
 soon becoming a natural mother, that if I may be 
 spared, I may rightly meet and endure the bodily 
 sufferings which are the effect of sin, that if it 
 may be the will of my Father in heaven, I and 
 mj^ offspring may live to glorify him on earth ; 
 but whatever his appointments, that he will pre- 
 pare me and my friends for the event, and make 
 all work for our greatest good and his glory. 
 
 The pen, which I have hitherto regarded as a 
 means of improvement and usefulness, I have 
 much neglected of late. Resolve to use it daily 
 in communicating to others, or writing for my- 
 self if health and ability be given me. 
 
 To whom shall I go, liut unto thee, my God? 
 Thou only hast the words of eternal life. Purge 
 thou me, and I shall be clean ; wash me, and I 
 shall be whiter than snow. To thee do I com- 
 mit my interests for time and for eternity. Bless 
 thou me, even me, my Father! and bless my 
 dcHr companion and his children, and all my 
 friends, for thy mercies' sake. 
 
 "itli. Sabhath. — Detained from attendingaslhad 
 purposed at the house of God, where the sacra- 
 ment is administered, and a new year's discourse 
 had in connection with the funeral services of 
 Mr. Albert Clark, who died by suicide. I feared I 
 should be unreconciled at heart if deprived attend- 
 ance at the house of God to-day. 
 
 Remarkably mild and pleasant this first portion 
 of sacred time in the new year. May any who 
 are destined this year to wake up hi eternity wit- 
 ness the dawn of an infinitely more glorious Sab- 
 bath ; and those who may survive, bring forth 
 more fruit to the glory of God, than any preced- 
 ing year. Amen. 
 
 J/arc/i ll</i,1838. — Again enjoyed the privilege 
 of attending divine service in the house of God 
 on his holy day, after being absent through the 
 winter. 
 
 Oh ! for a heart to record the goodness of my 
 merciful preserver, who hath helped me hitherto ; 
 who has granted me recovery from a bed of sick- 
 ness to a good measure of health and strength. 
 May grace be given me rightly to improve the 
 blessing, and to use the powers of body and mind 
 still granted me, for the glory of God and the 
 benefit of my family and fellow-creatures. On 
 the 20th of January last I became the mother 
 of a living child. 
 
 My daughter! My first-born! A helpless little 
 bein?, but destined to an endless existence. Oh! 
 the responsibilities of a mother! the painfully- 
 pleasing emotions that fill her mind as she gazes 
 upon the dear precious gift, the little stranger 
 introduced into a world of mingled ^^leasure and 
 pain, joy and sorrow ; where dangers beset every 
 step of life's path, and death sooner or later puts 
 an end to the mortal life, and introduces to an 
 endless state of inconceivable bliss or of unutter- 
 able woe. Born into a world where tlie nature 
 we inherit is averse to holiness and prone to evil, 
 and where temptations to wrong are constantly 
 attending us. In view of these truths, I would 
 hasten to consecrate the gift to the Maker and 
 Giver, beseeching thee, my God and Saviour! 
 that thou wilt, if consistent with thy will, pre- 
 serve the life ihou base given to old age, and 
 
A MOTIIKRS PKACK OFrEKISG. 
 
 31 
 
 protect Troro natural and moral rrilii; guide in 
 till- way of virtue ; and may nhe 8fo nnd do(;oo»l 
 iu llio land oi liie living. 
 
 Htit, u*iuvv nil, do I implore for her tlmt ni-w 
 binli I"', til" wattr and Sinrit,) williout wliiih she 
 iiin not iM'.i iho Author of la r ht'xf^ in ] <'BCi\ 
 May niio b« n nuljtct of thy kintfd""' ' '"uri""*. ' ' 
 my Si4viourI and •p<nd an et«'niity <>f liks-'wdiiiKi 
 ill ctlil.raUiiK thy praitk-a in the song of rcdifm- 
 inj^ love. 
 
 K ,r 1 .. ii,,. privile((« of thy sen'ant to train lier 
 >. 1 her to do it in the nurture and ad- 
 
 li 'lie lx)rd. Amen. 
 
 iSiie (."oujnieDced her exiatenco Ix-fore twelve, 
 SHf'irdnv riipht The tlr<>l d»vlii;ht tier evu he- 
 1. ■ -■ ■ "' . -).e 
 
 1 r>r lier may be i to d©- 
 
 \ tio path of duly i- ..er; but 
 
 I pray it may nnher enable mo belter lo judjce 
 of my duty to tho-ie to whom I sustain that rela- 
 l oo, aiiicitific mycolf what I would another should 
 <io by my own in exchaneo of circumatance.". 
 M ly I ri^'htly jud^'o and act as taught by the 
 priHtp's ol my Saviour. 
 
 1 do not ank for my child worldly richer, but 
 may she have food and raiment conTenicnt for 
 her, and )>o enriched with treasures of divine 
 grace, such ai are be».towed upon t' o humble 
 and devout. May she feed upon the bread of 
 life ; drink of the wau-r which r'hriPt piveth ; be 
 clotlied with rol^ca of a Redeemer s ri)jhle<>us- 
 n-w. ard ornamented with a meek and ^uiet 
 spirit. I crave for her the lieanhj whiili consisiH 
 of a ccnibinalion of the (.'hrifiian (iracea ; the 
 /lonor which cornea from (tod only ; the I'Utuure-f 
 which tlow from a well-apcnt life, and peace and 
 coinniunion with God her Saviour. 
 
 '2'lfi. — My miiid is loo chcerleea of late. It 
 
 ."oems in a : - vrrcome by the carea and 
 
 perplexitic- • fall to my lot I fear 
 
 that I loo i: -1 a rf pininjf or complain- 
 
 ing spiiit, notwiiiisi&ndioK the mercies which at- 
 tend mu and mine. Ilavinc food and raiment, 1 
 would ever ^>e content. Thiii is a slate of trial; 
 at.d whatever crosses, diMippointmenti), diflicul- 
 Uvf, privations, or provocaiion.s providence per- 
 miia lo fdil to my nliare, I duphi to bend with 
 pubmi!*sion ; acknowledfieit merited at the hands 
 of him who holds the destitjiea of all at hia con- 
 trol, and who dispenses in wi*dom and mercy. 
 May the trial of my faith work in me patience. 
 
 'iO(h, — Purposo to bepn on to-morrow, to mskf* 
 pre(>aration8 to change our residence to a farm 
 eaht of our village. 
 
 " We've no kbiillDg city here." 
 
 Kvery removal should remind ua of our final 
 removal to an ever-abiding borne. May all our 
 d.tjs be spent wiUi a wise reference to thexe 
 cDHcerns, and when the changea of life u 
 Hilh us, may wo remove to a home in t 
 
 Have lately coram* need reading the I'-^rv m 
 .lob with Sciitt'd rcmark^^, fe<ling that such has 
 l>een my a ate of mind of late, I need the iii- 
 f-Uuct oa which may be fathered from it. 
 
 /t/>n/ 3«i, 16.$.'', Tu'sdoy. — This day removed 
 to mir new place of abode; not knowing ; 
 tiiiiiLTs that await ua here, neither should wo 
 au.Mous to know. Our anxiety should be i> 
 know and attend unio pnacut duty, leaving 
 
 t vents with Oed who orderelh wiaely. Have 
 
 loft H>roe pr-- '■ - ■••■'•' 'tnt 
 
 things; bui >-T 
 
 than many i I 
 
 hope tliui adviintsge to uh may rr-nuli Imii the 
 change. My window-t v'v«* « vif-w fif thr tem- 
 ple of liod, where it 1 - vi- 
 iege to worthip, and w ut 
 Ibo heart to heuvei-, t- •> 
 tion mid sin never d vr, 
 peace, and harmoty, lii i^ 
 a view of the udmirablo range of roiiuniain', be- 
 neath «ho«e shade I have passed thu yi-ar* of 
 my childhood and youth, atiil the home of my 
 dear parent*. 
 
 Ohl D.ay I never, w! ' ' •' - ' .^e 
 
 to ofTer the satritlce of n • :i- 
 
 owuig lo i»ui.iily woakiites, ia yt I uuiiko i1i(.>h« ot 
 the years that ar*' pi»»«<>d when c^irmticing 
 emplojnient for i us I do 
 
 nut leave the <\< • ctionN 
 
 IT — ■ ' *= • 've 
 
 ir 
 ur: . ■ ive 
 
 her bear my own maidrn name. Out lor several 
 reiu-ons have concluded best to relinquish the 
 idea, and hope I may never feel or express dis- 
 snlisl'aclion ; but fetl happy in having her bear 
 the name of her of old ' " at Jesus' feet. 
 
 Like her, may she ch< ain the good 
 
 part which can never 1 - ;.i her. 
 
 11///. — I thif evening purpose in my heart to 
 fet apart toniorrnw, (I'J'.li Apiil) being a year 
 from the day ot my marriage, to pray for forgive- 
 nena of sins in n-f.-rence to iluiies which ihia 
 transaction . ■ • • . ..gr 
 
 of (rod Upo; f, 
 
 and lor gnK- ,_ ,. 'o 
 
 lliis child ; that I muv ' -r 
 
 to the ordiunnco of i ._ la 
 
 manner, ani that I may \jm guided in ail ouiy 
 toward the members of my family. Lord, for- 
 give, and direct thy servant. 
 
 Vltlt. — Have niiended the funeral of Daniel 
 
 Forlies at the hou.«e where T hnr- r ! t' o 
 
 scenes of the past year; have for t ■'•n 
 
 the duiies, the trials, and the jo} - ; - to 
 
 liie wife and mother. I see csuse tor deep 
 humility of heart in view of a lack of doing 
 good ei d of glorifyirg God by a well-ordered 
 life and godiv convorsaiion. bv hnhit lal sell- 
 comniai d si: ' ' " ' ' ' ar 
 
 llial 1 have 
 
 tion, forbear.. ..^ ^ - -a- 
 
 tion as stepmother has given me oocasiou to 
 exercise. 
 
 I would this evening most humbly beseech of 
 Heaven lo fortrive m!I thn tre-wpnwea of the ^>nsi 
 \ («r, and It . . ' ■ ' '■' r- 
 
 /iven. 1 W' • » 
 
 , .- - X. „ ,. .11 
 
 I . •■ year to c '9 
 
 I, • I* pa.^1 yeui ; 
 
 particuiaiiy the gif^ ol lii- the 
 
 power" pir-'Ti h»-r «nd i ' Mnker 
 
 : er. in- 
 , a pro- 
 • •■ -' 1 ' ■ ' oi .\ ui ;\ ^'t.. 
 
 L)id. lii/ aervaui is uo worthy. H«ar thou 
 
32 
 
 A MOTHER S PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 her request, and answer and bless for thy mercy's 
 sake in Christ Jesus. Amen. 
 
 22d — Among causes of decline among pro- 
 fessed Christians, as mentioned by our pastor to- 
 day, is excess of cares, which struck me as ap- 
 plying to my own case. May I guard against 
 such cause and effect, and as diiBculties and 
 trials present, may I by prayer and watchfulness 
 overcome. Had I no trials I could not know 
 myself, or practice patience. Without provoca- 
 tions I could not exercise forbearance or forgive- 
 ness. May the love and tender affection I bear 
 my little Mary lead me to judge of ray duty to 
 the offspring of a mother now in the silent tomb, 
 and to act as I would one in like circumstances 
 should act towards my own. 
 
 21lh, Friday. — Have felt that the powers of the 
 mind should be constantly cultivated in order to 
 progress, or even to secure what is already at- 
 tained ; and comparing my present with past 
 efforts, see fit to resolve on a daily lesson in 
 science, and commence to-day the perusal of Mrs. 
 Lincoln's Botany, purposing to read attentively 
 two pages per day. 
 
 May 20th, 1838, Sabbath. — Fmer&\ of Mrs. 
 Maria Wilcox, a near neighbor, one in whose 
 society I anticipated much pleasure. Last Sab- 
 bath she was taken ill ; now she is numbered 
 with the dead. 
 
 The providence and word of God have this 
 day spoken loudly to us : " Be ye ready." Lord, 
 help all to improve aright these instructions. 
 
 21ih. — This day, accompanied by rny com- 
 panion, have been permitted to bring my little 
 Mary to the ordinance of baptism. My heart 
 rejoices (although I see much to regret through 
 the depravity of the human heart) in being per- 
 mitted to come to the God who entered into 
 covenant with our father, Abraham, to bless him 
 and his seed after him, and consecrate this dear 
 little immortal being, and plead with him to be 
 her God, and sanctitier, and eternal portion. 
 
 Jimedth, 1838. — Being this morning exhausted 
 from too much labor when very weak, and too 
 much excited by rebellious conduct in another, 
 my frame v/as almost unnerved, and for some 
 time I felt as if my powers were leaving me. I 
 would not willingly ever endure again precisely 
 what I then suffered. Would be more studious 
 to be calm under every provocation which provi- 
 dence permits that I shall endure ; knowing it 
 to be duty from Christian principle, and in my 
 present weak and nervous state, from regard to 
 my health. Oh ! how do I feel the difficulty of 
 administering reproof and instruction daily with 
 becoming meekness, forbearance, and love. 
 
 Nothing but ihe grace of God can enable me 
 properly or successfully to discharge these duties 
 in my present circumstances. Why should I 
 after all the precious experience I nave had of 
 his goodness hesitate to come to him in Jesus' 
 name for large supplies of grace, that I may 
 discharge duty aright ; and for his especial favor 
 upon each member of my household. 
 
 Arig. '3lst, 1838. — Completed my twenty-ninth 
 year on the 8th iust. The summer now closing 
 has been one of considerable nervous depression. 
 My health has not been firm ; my cares many ; 
 difficulties great ; and, alas I too much of sin 
 in all my course. Too little prayer ; too little 
 self-command and self denial, and faithfulness in 
 duties. 
 
 I am convinced that seasons of especial prayer 
 should be resorted to by the Christian wtio would 
 attain to a comparatively holy life ; and I would 
 to-day (having perused the ninth and a part 
 of tenth chapter of Nehemiah, with Scott's ob- 
 servations) pray, often and particularly, for par- 
 don of the past, and a preparation of liearc, bet- 
 ter, and rightly to practice duty toward my hus- 
 band and the elder six children who have been 
 bereft of a natural mother, and toward my own 
 natural offspring, who, perhaps is becoming the 
 unconscious idol of my heart; that I may con- 
 ceal that partiality which nature forbids to re- 
 press ; and (remembering that she, with the 
 whole human family, is by nature sold under 
 sin) that I may have given me to seek for her 
 that grace which shall prepare her, if she may 
 live, to glorify God, and do good on the earth ; 
 and if she shall be called hence, shall prepare 
 her for the society of the blessed above. 
 
 Dec. 23d, 1838. — Resume my long-neglected 
 private journal. The past season fraught with 
 scenes of good and ill, has been one of neglect 
 in writing; one of much bodily weakness, at- 
 tended with many cares, and great need of 
 strength and ability. In the retrospect I think 
 of little of interest to record. Have been m a 
 state of mind tending to dejection much of the 
 time. I have thought it owing to nervous irrita- 
 tion, but perhaps the true cause is more in the 
 state of ray affections than my bodily organs. 
 Am of late encompassed with difficulties peculiar 
 and trying, particularly as respects my duty to 
 the youngest daughter of my husband's former 
 wife. I have endeavored to lay the cause before 
 God at his throne of grace, and ask strength and 
 guidance. 
 
 The eldest daughter is away at school this 
 winter where I have strong hopes that she may 
 improve in mind and manners. I have recently 
 finished the perusal of Abbott's Young Christian, 
 and have resolved to endeavor to practice his 
 rules for the improvement of character. 
 
 I will insert in this part of my epistle two 
 articles which further tell my heart- workings 
 during the year 1838. 
 
 The first is a line addressed by myself to the 
 daughter at school. 
 
 Thanksgiving Eve, 27th Nov. 1838. 
 
 Miss Anna: I hope you have spent the day, 
 and are spending this evening in a manner be- 
 coming a rational being and an intelligent mind. 
 
 We did speak of sending for you to come home 
 with Lucy this week, but finally concluded it 
 might be pleasanter for you to come three weeks 
 hence than now. Work has crowded ever since 
 you left. No help to do housework until to-day, 
 Mary Peaster has come to live with us. I will 
 try to have Elizabeth here in three weeks if 
 you come home then. Misses Goodrich (tailor- 
 esses) here last week. Miss Austin (mantua- 
 maker) finished hst Friday. Ephraim Birge 
 staid with us one night last week. His friends 
 were well. Mr. Stillman (house-joiner) has 
 worked in the chambers three days, and made 
 much confusion there. I presume you find the 
 exchange from house-worJc to school-ivork a luxury. 
 I really hope the hurry of business will soon be 
 so far over with myself, as to allow of a little 
 regular reading. Augusta is a pretty good girl. 
 Mary as had and as good as ever. Your pa, not 
 
A MOTIIKKH PEACE OFFKRINO. 
 
 83 
 
 verv wf'll a fow dnrn pn^t. Tin* h"»ndkerehlef a 
 
 rhankiHliving m nobler 
 r. 
 I uur«, aUvctiunatclj, L J. L. 
 
 I Will fliTO SDBWi 
 
 in tlio mind< of >- 
 
 ry whifh mvv ftri«o 
 
 C'Xcfpi u-i 'you' 1 )iu<i kiiniiv iijv.ua lier lu 
 cull mo " mother." if Ihnt •• xM he nffr<»w»Mn to 
 hor, sn'! it" nol, to i i- 
 
 droAfiiiK rap. I tii ; 
 
 her UnKht to fwl that lo be u*eful here, mi far 
 
 bia -um: III 1,. 
 woald liavo i 
 
 1- 
 
 .:,7 
 
 wtirniap, ('tM iif iiovv tliH oiite,) 1 uiu-'l iii-<ko a 
 ditily prMoiic.1 of retiriiijf to p'av with her — 
 would ' . iour a* Farly 
 
 as hiH li ' with ri-npecl 
 
 written or i<poken lo me cither as OK'thir or kirn. 
 Hat Ariiia \\ha dono many, very many thinf^s fir 
 which my hfart has bleswcd hir; and when in 
 the l>iit*m(SH of her spirit, in after years, f-he 
 cunwxi me to my facp, I did not lay all the sin lo 
 her charge, and prayed HtiU that (rod would 
 bleea her. 
 
 Now, that she is bit sscd in bcinir tho mo'.hor 
 o( flvo chddren, I doubt not aho hns other views ' 
 of duty, and that when this Offering of Truths 
 Straiifter than Fiction, nhall roach her, she will 
 receive it as from a mother. 
 
 The next 81 tide which I copy i« a folded sheet 
 labflffl. ''To he preperved." which wan ever | 
 kept where, in cn^ of my dix'ca-'o, it would fall 
 under the eye of :r erdi iiitfresiol in oxe^^'Uling 
 mv will. It is 83 f^jllow.- : i 
 
 Sept. 1S38 ! 
 
 My " endowed with onifnary jrifta 
 
 for a * 1 monthf. i* «n olji-ct of d«*ep 
 
 p..!' • ■'- ' - ' - •■ ' ■■ .,- ,<|,e 
 
 ' nenced 
 
 I, . . . : . 1 t<i her , 
 
 m p%ni<:ularly anxiou". 
 '! a mdo or two from our 
 
 dwvlii.K. liavobiii ciUod lo leave their tender 
 oil'Mpriotr. anti aJufnher in the ^^ave, sinro our 
 removal her. 
 
 Thin cir. r wiih a state of 
 
 r '" ! ■' ' ' „ ... jifWl summer which 
 
 I • il much ii[)on my liability to 
 
 I' 11 this world, has told me how 
 
 dear to my ht-ari are tiio inUrects of the little 
 helplcm being committed to my care by her i 
 Father in heaven. 
 
 What I now write is in view of th<' troth that 
 
 I ..".I (o lonve hor to the cnre nrid 
 
 - and I would (in si-h a'ii>") 
 t . my choice in a few importaiu 
 
 yiiirt'ciiiara. 
 
 Stiould such an event take place while her 
 \ ndlioartcd fiith'^r io living, I would cari.esily 
 • ntreat of him to forego the pleasures of h^r 
 ■ompany at liome. as fr ' '. ' 
 
 rd habil« of hor eider .--i 
 is not to have hnd tl.', . . ., .. . 
 
 essential for thrir good in their earhest yeary. ) 1 
 consider it would be unwi.«e to suffer her t*) r«- 
 ooive the influence they would he likely to ex- 
 ert. I would have her continually utd^ r the 
 authority of a fema'e who would enforce obe- 
 dience to reasonable commands : would have 
 
 IcjjuH. ihiin enjoy ensu and in'i 
 
 lit to a pious, 
 
 • :i- .' .1 Mivi- 
 
 to follow the h»-n* of h<-r"W!i 
 
 ■.:iO 
 
 itilhu'ncc of ' 
 I Bin fully 
 
 \V ■ ■ ' .1 III ■■■tJl 
 
 1 orrect in 
 
 ;iuthority and 
 
 - • -']y 
 
 The above was ponn<d when, in wrrtVr.-« and 
 utter hcli)lo.«''nr.«.s in my.MelC and in -"» 
 
 from man, I committed my way to ' If 
 
 of my child. How he hath bnintjiii ;t i-, i-aas 
 is to appear in tmciog her future history. 
 
 DiAKY : Janunry \fl. 1 8.19. — Comtnencod the 
 year under tho d«tr. d^ar. pntemal nwif; yes, in 
 the dwelling that gave me birth. And uot only 
 so. but the .«pot when? the Holy Spirit or^t wit- 
 nessed with my ppirit that I wa.s born of God, 
 that my sins wore iwrdoncd through the atone 
 nient of thf ' - ' ' 
 
 I did ind I knflt in tho ap.^rtmcnt 
 
 wh> re 1 wa, ' mmuno with my Siiviojr, 
 
 that I wiis returneu to my Bothol. Oh ! how 
 sweet it wa." to bo there! How mr,nh nf my for- 
 mer life, to memory <lcar, ; • ■ mind's 
 viow! Such swoot seiiS<>n* nil i>e traD- 
 «• "■ ' ' 1. But 
 t 1 home 
 ...,,. . . ■'■-* to 
 
 ■ •. Olil III' y 
 
 1' >nies. orsull rm 
 
 tho dutie.i i«l llic way: thankful if i may iivc for 
 tlie good of those who are very near atid dear to 
 me. 
 
 6tt, — Tliis day listened to a deeply inlenxntiiig 
 
 2it*A.-7l his day my liliio daugiiter c<impletofl 
 tlnj first year of liT f"c'«'''n'>e. 
 
 I view her Mn'-,' i rr 
 
 little frame ; nnd ig 
 
 - and filCUllH'- \ >'■ 's -v. ;miii;r.'. :in 1 .•il.r'r 
 
 !i ! I would consecrate the precious gi/t to 
 
 ■ 'f 
 
 H.T. •■', particularly 
 
 lur h" r - ition, and for 
 
 thr- coiivi- irti.ly llitlitr. Have r» 
 
 solved, I h. : .: on divine grace, top' 
 
 daily for niv ciin'i m an audible roioo 'v 
 projicnco. 
 
54 
 
 A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 January Isi, 1840. --The year which I was 
 permitted to commence at my father's, it was my 
 privilege to close there, and again to greet the 
 opening year with tliose whose love and friend- 
 ship I can not doubt ; parents, brethren, and sis- 
 ters dear. 
 
 Myself and little daughter have passed several 
 days with them. How pleasant to hold inter- 
 views with real friends ! Oh ! how pleasant ! My 
 tongue or pen can not express what I feel on this 
 subject. But does my heart feel in reference to 
 the goodness of my Maker toward me in giving 
 me friends, in prolonging my life to enjoy them, 
 and in sparing tliem to me. But wliat is this 
 favor even in comparison of the friendship prof- 
 fered of him who is Lord of lords, and King of 
 kings — an ever-living, all-powerful, and gracious 
 Redeemer ? 
 
 I have hoped that this Redeemer is mine. I 
 have rejoiced in hope of the glory of God. 
 
 Oh 1 I have desired that^my life might be spent 
 in doing his will, and in glorifying him ou the 
 earth. 
 
 " Alas, and shall I ever live 
 At this poor dying rate ?" 
 
 I would look at the past year, but mj^ heart 
 fain! s. Lord ! forgive, sanctify, and save. Di- 
 rect thy servant this year, Lord I in all duty, I 
 humbly pray thee. 
 
 Oh ! that this principle, which I have, in years 
 past, felt to be an abiding and governing one, 
 might still be such, namely : If I suffer for well- 
 doing, let ine take it patiently ; and if for evil- 
 doing, let me not complain. 
 
 I sigh for domestic happiness, and if denied 
 mo, let me seek to know how far it is attributable 
 to my own errors, and labor and pray daily to 
 correct them. When waiting to decide whether 
 to accept the proposal to enter the family to which 
 I now belong, I laid the case before God, in pray- 
 er, to be directed to choose the course in which 
 I should most glorify him, and best promote my 
 eternal well-being. 
 
 Perhaps God is answering my prayers in his 
 own best manner, notwithstanding my way seems 
 to myself shrouded in thick darkness. 
 
 Perhaps the Searcher of hearts saw in me 
 wrong motive, and is visiting my sins with the 
 rod. In either case, it becomes me not to mur- 
 mur, but to acquiesce in his will and pleasure, 
 and to praise him for tlie good which I experi- 
 ence. My little Mary is a promising child, and 
 her innocent prattle a sweet comfort. How good 
 is the Loi'd in sparing her to me, and in giving 
 me opportunity to administer to her wants ! I 
 have been permitted to perform what I resolved 
 the last year in relation to practicing devotion in 
 her presence. 
 
 17 th. — A visit the present week from sister 
 EUzabeth and cousin 0. Newman. The hopeful 
 conversion to Christ of the latter, has recently 
 rejoiced my heart. 
 
 I8th. — Intelligence has to-day reached us that 
 the steamboat Lexington was burned upon Long- 
 Island Sound last Monday evening, and that all 
 the passengers except two or three, perished. 
 Among the number was cousin Philo Upson of 
 Egremont. Oh ! the distress, the heart-rending, 
 and grief unutterable which this awful catastrophe 
 has produced 1 Oh ! to think of the consterna- 
 tioa that must have prevailed among the com- 
 
 pany at that fatal hour — so suddenly and unex- 
 pectedly called to look death in the face — in hope- 
 less agony to commit themselves to the watery 
 deep, to perish by drowning or by cold ! How in- 
 scrutable are the ways of Providence ! IIow does 
 it became all who survive to deplore the flite of 
 the unfortunate sufferers, to heed the solemn 
 warning, and seek henceforth to be constantly 
 ready for the coming of the Son of Man ; to be 
 doing what we can tor the glory of God, and the 
 salvation of ourselves and others ! May tlie Spirit 
 of the living God in mercy be given to make this 
 event a blessing to surviving friends. To-morrow 
 my little Mary completes her second year. I 
 purpose to observe the day, to pray particularly 
 for her conversion to God, and for grace to per- 
 form my duty in Christian fidelity as a parent. 
 
 March 1st, 1840. — Returned to-day from my 
 fiither's, where I have spent the last two weeks 
 with nij' little girl. 
 
 SejH. 1st, 1840. — The last summer has been 
 one of entire neglect relative to my diary, and of 
 much trouble and anguitsh of spirit in my domes- 
 tic relations and situation. May the Lord yet 
 smile upon us, and give us to enjoy the blessings 
 of peace, and fit us to join the happy flimily 
 above, where is holiness, and harmony, and light, 
 and love, without mixture and without end. 
 
 Tlie following are resolves I was led to make 
 on the day I completed my 31st year : 
 
 '\st. Bear with silence those things that I feel 
 need to be rebuked in the children. 
 
 2d. Treat my husband with deference, kind- 
 ness, and attention, and endeavor to cherish to- 
 ward him that affection which I felt when I mar- 
 ried him. 
 
 3d. Rise early. 
 
 Mh. Be three times a day on my knees in my 
 closet. 
 
 5th. Attend more to writing; and paste Pr. 
 Humphrey's Tlioughts on Education saved from 
 the Neiv- York Observer. 
 
 Oh! that my Maker would lead me this year to 
 be good, to do good, and to glorify him ! 
 
 '• Be angry and sin not." Oh ! how difficult for 
 me to feel a just indignation at that which is evi- 
 dently wrong, and not indulge in improper re- 
 sentment or bitter feelings I 
 
 9///, Wed. — With my husband set out to visit 
 his relatives in Harpersfield. Had but two days' 
 notice to prepare for the journey, and from indis- 
 position greatly unfitted for the undertaking. 
 
 22(Z. — irrived home. My late visit is a source 
 of peculiar satisfaction to me, in having afforded 
 me opportunity to become acquainted with the 
 kindred of my hus^band and child. 
 
 January IQth, 1841. — Anna Little left for Har- 
 persfield to-day witli the intention of spending a 
 few months with her cousin, Mrs. Newell. I have 
 strong hopes tnat this arrangement may conduce 
 to her improvement, and to the good of the 
 family. 
 
 20//t. — This day my daughter completes her 
 third year. I have endeavored to pray particu- 
 larly for her, that she may experience that new 
 birth which is by water and the Spirit ; that she 
 may be new created unto righteousness and true 
 holiness. Oh ! for a heart to praise the Lord for 
 the mercies he has bestowed in the dispensationa 
 of his providence toward her thus far I Surely he 
 hath been better than my fears. And shall I 
 act with unwavering confidence trust him for 
 
A mother's peack offering. 
 
 36 
 
 time to como ? Yen, for all t il for 
 
 her, for bodj and for soul, for u, - r ctor- 
 
 uily. 
 
 211k, — With my hn«hsnd nnl rWM rfwitH u- 
 my falhcr'H. I liter-, i 
 
 dear, paicnial nM)t 
 other yoar. I 
 our family. I 
 
 ar.-" •• " '-r-. .. : \:.., 
 
 he . u each ol us lor ail hui holy 
 
 IIJ,. — Witry Liiilo has boon Iroubli-*! with cold, 
 which apitcan* to ttiTt-ci her lunex. Thin at timon 
 caiueH ino sonic alarm. It .st dixcaHe is sentin^; 
 upon them. How frail oir Ixnlies ! The H>\i\, 
 
 volo hvnifir tu iiM Btrvicf. 
 
 2IJ»^— My child, who ban been several weeks 
 ill, is attain able to go out witii mo to church. Oh I 
 for a Kratefiil heart for the mercies of niy God. 
 
 3 ' ' ■" ■' houao of Go<l to-day; 
 
 Hit -, who is ill. 
 
 J.' ., i . . -lit t<>- i>'V ti n^MJst in 
 
 taking care ol motiier, who is \ .May 
 
 our heavenly Father, if he can _. with 
 
 hifl holy will, aKHin restore her to l.culih. 
 
 14/A, — To-day sent A note to cousin Helen, 
 sfK . ' : of the things which coDcem the 
 
 so . 
 
 ... , .17, while busied with •''> > '- ,««« 
 of the world, and entfip'^d in plannit..- 
 ture, suddenly the t>ell struck and .• 
 mind to think of a 8t>ul recently spt-d to the 
 world of Bpiritn. I stopped my pursuita for a mo- 
 ment, and listened to count the nge of the re- 
 cently departed. It was tweiity yearp. At our 
 dinner we had had conversation relative to the 
 qualities of teachers employod in Slu-flleld the 
 la'«t year. Mi<w Murlha Ward, formerly a pupil 
 of mine, ranked with the highest, in the estima- 
 tion of the committee present. Koforo night, in- 
 formation camo that fhe had finished her work 
 on earth. Yes, the blooming Martha has been 
 
 By JmUi'i r««i*tleM h&nil." 
 
 Hut she had confessed Christ before men, and 
 DOW we may hope she is present with the Lord, 
 in the Panwii^e above. 
 
 ." -d. — My diary has been reglect*'] 
 
 for ■<, while I have been called to pa*- 
 
 thr ., aid afTlirtivo s.?enc<». 
 
 " iiy dear mother, has been called 
 
 awn ' labors <>n e.'irth : from her family 
 
 and her Im-nd'*. Ah I the scenes of this busy, 
 bustling world will never, never more share her 
 attention. I look at the verdure and the h;of)m 
 of this lovely seas mi, and reflect that the eyi-s of 
 my dear mother will never ga7.o on t* -^ ■ ■ 
 The scenes I love seem to bring a 
 delight. But why should I mourn?! : i ... 
 comforting awurance that she is joinmg in the 
 .song of the rodeeme<L She deoea.sed Wednesday, 
 May 8lh, half-past eight r.M. Was buried Satur- 
 day Hth, at ten a.u. Sermon at the house by Mr. 
 Brfldf>rd, from the wordn, " S<i sh-iU wo ever be 
 with the Txird." Hymns sung, 615, «16, 61S, of 
 the Church Psalmody, to the tuuofl Sunderlaud, 
 Harford, and Kambi&. Uerage waailfty-four. The 
 
 Wednewlny »> 
 
 t ' (I, V I'A'll 1. 
 
 death, I'ameUo, mj eldest sister, was rrjoidng io 
 
 hope. 
 
 n '. 
 
 ful 
 Ir, 
 
 la-i, ., „ 
 
 excursion row 
 
 iith.—Uhv . 
 
 and visited my im^luera graw. iij' - 
 a change in the aspect of our family i. 
 ly favorable to ray own comfort and jl<il ■.. My 
 health is mending, and I le'l myself compara- 
 tively blessed. Oh! that nil the good gif'-* ft 
 my merciful Father may be sanctified ULt" • '\ 
 through the word of God and prayer ; and inaj 
 I have wisdom and grace as I shall need I 
 
 To-day intelligence of the death of Morton 
 Birge, of Galena, III., thirl son of my husband's 
 eldest sister, by drowning while bathing. I'urk 
 an! ways of 
 
 Tl . liundre<l 
 
 wil: other, cai..- ■■ i • .f 
 
 death by drowning. Both young men, the eldest 
 thirty. Both were, and had been for many 
 years, the professed friends of Christ, 
 
 July 4th, i>abUtUi. — Christ's death commemo- 
 rated. 
 
 On the last communion, I was with my sick 
 mother. It was the last Sa*~^ ■ ' ' r life. 
 To-day my two eldest si.'^ters i 1 into 
 
 wvenant to be tbe Lord's, and ; .. ...■• f m- 
 
 blems of his body broken and biood shed for 
 sinners. 
 
 One year to-day I partook of an excollent 
 supper prepared by my mother's hand». Tho'igh 
 our earthly friends die, our Saviour over lirtth, 
 and those who deep in him are 1 '.e-i~ed. 
 
 Aug. M.' , iMi .^aiinW.— To-day completea 
 my thirt; -r. 
 
 In lh<' iif the past year, I see much 
 
 cause for graiiiude to God, and much for self- 
 
 aba^empnt hf>fore him. H<^ in his pr^ri'iT"^ 
 
 ' ■ life with tl.. • ' i 
 
 'f our h" 
 
 • ■.- .. .-.dly n- • 
 
 taken from mo a wi 
 and by his grace h.-L-- 
 
 to seek the Saviour. He has kept me from fail- 
 ing into outward neglect of religious duties, 
 though I have so far come short in the atTectiona 
 of my heart and the tenor of my life. 
 
 I am more fivor^v' ' - • ' ' ' — ' '',■ 
 than a year ago. M r 
 
 graciously remove i: ........... 
 
 lead us all to love that which is good, and pur- 
 sue it. 
 
 Ori.2d. 1 "^ 1 1 .—Mrs. Hirge, my husband's eldest 
 sister, with her daughter and (amUy, arrived, on a 
 visit. 
 
 &lh, TW.'iiv Ev<nin^. — Had a sca.son of prayer 
 with si.ster Birge, and made an agreement with 
 her to go to a throne of grace on sucoeediag 
 
S6 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 Tuesdays at eight p.m., to pray especially for the 
 coDversion of her brother, my husband. 
 
 1th. — This morning- our friends left for home. 
 
 12(1. — A. letter from Mrs. Newell, informing 
 us of the death of lier mother (sister Birge) on 
 the morning of the 12th insl. Two weeks did I 
 resort to my closet at the appoitiled lime, little 
 thinking that her spirit had fli:'d to unseen 
 worlds; yea, I doubt not to a mansion in the 
 skies, where prayer is turned to praise. 
 
 I may no longer unite with her in prayer for 
 the obJFct above spe<Mfifcd; but she has long 
 prayed, and if I may live, let me not cease to 
 pray that her praters may yet be answered. 
 
 I will hero extract from a letter addressed to 
 me by the daughter of Mrs. Birge, who accom- 
 panied her on her last visit to my husband, her 
 brother. 
 
 my dear Aunt ! how little did we think, 
 when parting froai our friends, that the angel of 
 death would so soon come among us and lay his 
 hand upon such an idolized object of our affec- 
 tion ! Yet so it was. 
 
 1 suppose from the moment she first felt that 
 any tiling w^as the matter, there was no hope for 
 her, though we were not much alarmed, as we 
 supposed it a sudden cold. She first comphiined 
 (about two hours after setting out for home) of 
 a slight sickness at the stomach, and said she 
 could not swallow. I think she did not take a 
 spoonful of any thing from the time she left you; 
 yet her strength held out remarkably, so that 
 she appeared quite cheerful when we reached 
 sister Newell's, at tlie close of the second day. 
 Her physician sui-iposts it was a sort of apo- 
 plexy, produced in a great measure by her recent 
 afliiciions. 
 
 It seemed at first as though I could not sur- 
 vive her death. Yet I did survive. But oh 1 
 how has ibis world, (which once appeared so 
 bright and beautiful,) how has it changed! Yet 
 the thought that this is not our continuing city 
 enables us to live on, and strive to perform the 
 duties that devolve upon us until our time shall 
 come. M. B. 
 
 DiAiiT: Dec. list, 1841, Tues. — Returned from 
 my broiiuT's, where I have been spending a few 
 days, to get the change needful for my health. 
 Suffer from chronic affection of the stoaiach, and 
 sometimes apprehend tliat it will soon wear me 
 out. 1 feel anxious to do what I can for the 
 promotion of health and continuance of life, on 
 account of the religious training of my child. 
 If God sees fit, I desire to live, and have grace 
 and wisdom to traiu her for him ; but if he pur- 
 poses otherwise, I desire to acquiesce, and to re- 
 joice in the truth that he reigneth, and will do 
 all his pleasure. 
 
 I merit his chastening ; yet he mingles in my 
 cup unnumbered and unmerited mercies. 
 
 Feb. 2-l<7i, 1842. — Was taken ill with measles 
 on the 31st Dec. Employed a physician Jan. 
 5th. My stomach became very irritable, and I 
 sufl'ered a daily sinking until the 15th Janu- 
 ary, when I was brought to death's door. 
 
 Tiien was my disease rebuked, and I began to 
 amend. 
 
 Walked from my bed with assistance 23d Jan., 
 and on the 25th rode to my father's, where I 
 have spent four weeks, receiving those attentions 
 
 which contribule to improve feeble health. My 
 lit le daughter had the disease lightly, but at- 
 tended witli a very s-evere cough. She was 
 taken to her Grandpa's the day she completed 
 her fourth year, the time fixed upon in my owu 
 mind for commeLcing to teach her to read. I 
 took with me ihe MotJier-'s Own Primer, and be- 
 gan to give her a short exercise in readiog once 
 a day. 
 
 March Ath, 1842. — Our son Lucius' wire has 
 become the mother of twins, two little girl". 
 
 May the blesMng of their Maker and Giver rest 
 upon them; the first-burn of a new generation 
 to this hou-e. 
 
 April I2th. — Five years to-day I entered the 
 married state. 
 
 Have occasion for deep humiliation in view of 
 my unprofitableness; and for gratitude that I 
 have been sustamed under the variotis trials I 
 have experienced. Would anew ask of my 
 heavenly Father wi,=dom and grace to prepare 
 me for duties or trials before me. Have spent 
 the last week in my father's family, attending my 
 broihers and sisters sick with measles. How 
 thankful should I be for being permitted to sup- 
 ply the place of luy departed parent toward my 
 younger brothers and sisters, at such times aa 
 those iu which they feel most their loss ! 
 
 This evening attended the marriage of our son 
 Ralph to Mi,-s Sarah Boardman, at htr father's. 
 
 May the blessing of Abraham's God I'est upon 
 the married pair; and tfey, being clad in Ghiist's 
 righteousness, be permitted to sit down at the 
 marriage-supper of the Lamb. 
 
 Oct. llth, 1842. — This day set apart, in my 
 own mind, for private humilation and prayer, that 
 God will assist me to become spiritually minded, 
 and prepare me to retiiit temptation; to endure 
 the trials, crosses, or provocations I may meet in 
 the domestic circle, with meekntss and paiience. 
 
 I have felt of late that disease is gradually fit- 
 ting me, ere long to depart to the world of 
 spH'its. I am now somewhat better, though illy 
 able to endure all that seems needful in my pre- 
 sent situation. Oh ! for gra^^e to enable me to 
 lise above the world ; to rejoice continually in 
 God, and to be faithful in the discharge of all 
 duty 1 
 
 Lord, wilt thou hear my prayer for help to love 
 thee more and serve thee better, aud so to live 
 as to be ready when thou shalt call for me. 
 Amen, 
 
 Kor. 1st, 1842. — Have to-day prayed especially 
 in reference to my own and my cnmpanion'n 
 spiritual state, that we be fitted by divine grace 
 for a final reception info the Paradise abo^ e. 
 
 24:th, Thanksgiving. — More comfortable in the 
 domestic circle, and hope lor continued improve' 
 ment. 
 
 January \s(, 1843, Sabbath. — Cousin Eliza C, 
 married to Dr. M. at the close of afternoon ser- 
 vices in church. 
 
 May this N'ew Year be a better than all former 
 years, in that I may be more humble, more holy, 
 more diligent in the work assigned me. 
 
 My health poor, though able to be about the 
 house most of the time, and to go out. 
 
 3d. — Our son Robert married to Mias Cornelia 
 Eldrid, of Salisbury, Ct. 
 
 March 1th. 1843. — Returned to my home after 
 an absence of seven weeks, spent with my father 
 and brethren, for benefit to health. 
 
A MOTHKK's I'KACK OFFKRINO. 
 
 37 
 
 Aftrii 4tK 1844,— To-dar p«n»ed my journal 
 
 i; 
 
 r< , iiol knowing; fio 
 
 tl i\; M 1 then ex- 
 |)rt->-<<i .ii ii.y ji'ii.'iiHl. 
 
 I li^vM litiiniMl the truth. " In th« world to 
 
 •.!■ '■ ■ - ■ • •• ; ' ' • • ^ ■ ■ 
 (i . 
 
 f. And Mball 1 nut then irujtt hiiu i 
 
 tl:: ■• 
 
 J/.iy iJlit, 1S41. — llnvo been laid usido from 
 lal>'>r Mio IrtMi flvo w<H'k(>, but am lo-di*y able to 
 n - f my child, and my no 
 
 (• her. On hor Hccount I 
 
 ii ■ ' ' ■ •■•■"•■ 
 
 I' 
 
 of tnaL Uay tio (five me a (^rateiui liearl, and 
 blew my btnof-tetois abuiidanlly. 
 
 June 2d, 1.S41.— Our Sundny-fl?' ■ 
 ir*d l< -day. My child, whoxe i: 
 tfmjiorfd and eteninl, aro so near 
 whiiiii its incl'W'iiro."*. Tijin I I's'^ 
 
 |.nv. '.-'.■ \U- -■... i... I i;: 'til .,'■ I : 
 
 fifilt year, i 
 been spared 
 
 thirty- 
 vi lo luan bnvo I 
 wltich 
 
 *■ titand thick ttiroDKh all tlic land 
 To puab me to the tomb." 
 
 Oh I thitt I may boncerorth bo moro vnse and 
 more lioly ! 
 
 Drr \'bth, 184-t. — Rosolve that I will endeavor 
 to U.S.' niv pon in iloiiiir eood. 
 
 •■' ' ' • ' • •■ - - -' ' npart bv mv 
 •.. ,..d. .May' I 
 
 Si,. ; .. , -ly, and so re- 
 
 solve, that w ; God my spiritual 
 
 strcDi;!!; IV. :-. 1 I bo better pre- 
 
 {' .tuulhcr year than here- 
 
 In proirpoct of bcoominK n seoond time a 
 
 . li , I I I . . , • •! . I'll- ;/ ,1. .,f 
 
 in hiJi glury. 
 Junt \tL 1845. — Our Sunday-school ro^rtnin- 
 
 Luru lui u,l \.. 
 On ihM 2<i 
 mollicT <if a '. 
 tir.sf. has i \ 
 
 last T waa made the 
 
 CuUie. Nul iiiul nil liiu CittuH-a ut tiiy li<^-nrl-lli-ilri 
 
 have l»een rfrnovnl, b'lt tdat I l-avo ••'<-<->nie 
 
 'i"-* 
 
 Tr. 
 
 I Lecture, i brought my i' 
 
 j of bapti-^m. (lavr- 'i;:-; t' 
 
 j My hn9l)and ■ i 
 
 ! K. HuUurd a; r 
 
 ' little son, 
 
 l>ivine Saviour, graciously lay tliy hands as 
 I upon til' - • '•' • "■ • - •1 !■ ■ -■! them. May thoy 
 
 live to i!id in the c(»iii;nfj 
 
 I world j 1 tj' wlio yhall cvle- 
 
 j brato tliy piuiacs (or fvcrun're. Amen. 
 
 Aug. S//i, 1845, — And pMU anniher yrar has 
 
 been added to my life, r I 
 
 I been a p-iisioiicr ui>on ti 1 
 
 I God. The 1 • ' ■ ' 
 
 for which I -^ 
 
 it becomes ni 
 
 With refirenco to the bitter ; i 
 
 toward m" and mr childrr-n. ■ 
 
 out in lovt' to :iiy husl>.ind, v^ 
 that he may now cvino to thi ■ 
 and accept p<'ac'e and pardon 
 SixfT vr-nra of hi" lit'> li 'Ve 1. 
 
 ir ■ ' ': " 
 
 ■alement and no all.ty. 
 I><ird, prant it f>r thv ^^n'o wke. 
 20(Ji.—Th. 
 seventh vea: 
 
 .\mon. 
 
 .1. O I/3rd I strengthen tJiou us to pcrfonn, 
 .'i:jd ffuide and blcjvs ua. 
 Jan. 1st, 1846.— 
 
 "The openInK jre»r llijr mercy pliowf. 
 Let mercy crown It till It clo»c." 
 
 My family, thifl winter, reduced tn >- 
 
 ban<L ai<d children, Bfloraii e nie t. i 
 
 and come under 
 still sp'irc'l tn hi r. 
 ted to ' 
 sacrovl - 
 scat ii'iA 
 moroies of iii 
 
 the peculiar ;...... 
 
 we a:> u family are subjected 
 
 -nces, I ; inyo»n iite aiid tne iile ot 
 
 Am p<'ni vTdevout gratt":'1f^ to the .\ti- 
 
 I read'ng the . Ihor a:.d TrivHcrvcr of life— 11 ■ 
 ' the nierev- I it in to trxalt or to abaiw. He '. 
 
 I name! 
 
38 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 Jan. \si, 1847. — This day met a hundred and 
 twenty or thirty at the house of our beloved 
 pastor, on the occasion of our annual visit. 
 
 The past has been a year of unusual mor- 
 tality among us, yet am I spared to taste the 
 sweets of social intercourse with friends and 
 Christians dear ; still to enjoy the blessing of con- 
 tinued life and health to my household — a peaoe- 
 ful and quiet home — wilh opportunities for secur- 
 ing and doing good. 
 
 Oh I for a grateful heart, a penitent, believing, 
 and obedient spirit ! 
 
 Jan. 2d, 1848, Sahbalh. — United with my 
 lellow-disciples in celebrating the Lord's Supper. 
 Weather and traveling so bad that the accus- 
 tomed New-Tear's discourse is deferred. 
 
 Jan. dtJt. — New-Year's sermon, from the text: 
 "Wherefore hast thou made all men in vain?" 
 There have been nine hundred and twentj-two 
 deaths in ShefSeld during the last thirty-four 
 years, or since Mr. Bradford was set apart for 
 the ministry here. Of these more than half 
 were under thirty-tive years of age. 
 
 Dec. Slst, 1848 —This last Sabbath and day of 
 another year am attending the sick-bed of my 
 daughter, who has been much afflicted during 
 the year now closing with poor health and weak 
 eyes, but has suffered more intensely the last 
 two weeks than ever before with sickness. She 
 was taken willi fever two weeks to-day. At the 
 time of the attack her nerves were very weak, 
 and her suffering has been extreme. But she is 
 in the hands of Him who doeth all things well ; 
 who saw fie to lay upon his well-beloved Siic great- 
 er sufferings than mortals know for our sakes; and 
 who is able to make all these trials of my child re- 
 sult in her greatest good. In this truth my soul 
 finds support. The year now closing has been one 
 of much sickness wilh myself and children. It has 
 likewise been one of a return of domestic evils. 
 But these, for the present, have been greatly al- 
 leviated or removed. J feel that I have cause 
 to call upon my soul and all that is within me to 
 bless the Lord for all his benefits; jea, and to 
 trust him to work in and for me all things need- 
 ful. The tolls of mortality have this day sound- 
 ed thrice in our ears, calling upon us mortals to 
 redeem the time as our years are swiftly passing. 
 Soon our hatred and our love will be buried ; 
 all our work.^, whether good or evil, shall cease. 
 
 Lord! forgive, and sanctify, and blets, for thy 
 mercy's sake. Amen. 
 
 Jan. 20ih, 1849.— 
 
 " Tliat voice, oft heard, that speaks, Be still, 
 Submissive to his holy will, 
 Has called by death your darling child, 
 And bids you to be reconciled. 
 
 " He's called her from your fond eml)race, 
 Consigned her to her resting-place; 
 Her spirit winged to God above, 
 Dwells there in holy bliss and love. 
 
 " He's called her from her earthly home, 
 In a far-distant world to roam ; 
 No more to sin, no more to sigh, 
 No more to languish or to die. 
 
 " The mother's heart that's rent in twain, 
 To bear afresh her wounds again, 
 May go to him, pour out her grief, 
 And on his besom find relief. 
 
 " In that great day when Christ shall come. 
 He'll claim your ' Mary ' as his own ; 
 Raise her immortal, pure and white, 
 To dwell with him in realms of light." 
 
 Tes, dear Mary, thou loved companion of my 
 life's journey during "ten years," thou art gone! 
 gone to return to me no more 1 gone to a better 
 world, to a happier home, to know the bliss of 
 love divine! The tenderest ties of thy beloved 
 mother's heart are severed ! the deepest fountains 
 of grief are there opened and gushing. But 'tis 
 God, thy Maker and Giver, who hath called thee. 
 I feel to bless Ids holy name, and to say : " He 
 hath done all things well." He gave that faith 
 unto thy mother which led her early to con- 
 secrate thee unto himself, to seek to imbue thy 
 young mind with his sacred truths, and to lead 
 thy young heart to seek him in prayer. He 
 wrought in thee a love of filial duty, gentleness, 
 patience, purity of heart, meekness, humility, 
 and faith, lie chasteneth thee as a vv'ise father ; 
 and when thou wast purified as gold in the fur- 
 nace, he terminated thy sorrows and thy suffer- 
 ings in a peaceful death, and introduced thee to 
 those joys which mortal eye hath not seen, or ear 
 heard, or imagination conceived. Farewell, 
 sweet child, until I have accomplished the work 
 that remains for me on earth. Then will thy 
 mother come I 
 
 Thus closes the fourth and last volume of my 
 private journal, commenced in 1831. From the 
 day it thus closed I have not taken up my pen 
 to speak out of the abundance of my heart, ex- 
 cept in conununications to mortal friends. And 
 now I must have recourse to some of these to 
 show further the state of the inner or hidden life, 
 as well as the manner in which God has an- 
 swered what I have addressed to him. Before 
 proceeding to this part of my work, it seems 
 needful for me to do a thing to which I have 
 hitherto been a stranger — namely, set the 
 specific faults of another than my single self in 
 a note-book. I have spoken in this letter of 
 being cursed by one whom I sought most earnest- 
 ly to bless. I did not lay this sm wholly to her 
 charge. 
 
 I do not believe that God lays this sin wholly 
 to her fcharge ; neither do I believe that the 
 act of indorsing this curse by one who had 
 sworn to bless me, is a sin la'd wholly to the 
 charge of the indorser. I believe that she who 
 was i'lnpidsive because she ivas a tvoman, was 
 more impulsive because she was the offspring of 
 a man who cherished a causeless hatred against 
 the woman he should have loved, namely, her 
 own natural mother ; and that when God was 
 visiting this iniquity of the father upon the child, 
 the father's mind was so "harassed " that he 
 knew not what to do, except to yield to any 
 terms of peace she should dic'ate, and that her 
 dictation was very much influenced by the selfish 
 passions of her own heart and of a class of med- 
 dlers without. 
 
 The birth of her little brother was to Mary an 
 unlooked-for blessing. She could scarcely give 
 utterance to her joy, or describe the bright 
 visions in the future which unfolded to her view. 
 New sources of joy must develop new sources of 
 sorrow in her case as in others. To see the lit- 
 tle helpless stranger an object of hatred and con- 
 tempt in his father's house caused her gentle and 
 loving spirit an additional grief. But she, 
 through sympathizing with her mother, and more 
 or less participating in a similar hatred, had 
 learned, too, to lock her sorrows in her own 
 bofcom, except as she poured them out to God. 
 
A mother's peack offehino. 
 
 39 
 
 Her fntlior HCi^med not to uudoreUud that • 
 
 '■Itil'l conl'l mjll'T niid uo'. coinplniii. H" • ■■^■■' 
 luvtHil to l> ' i.;irr<ii will) u cliild. ]<iil ^' 
 ri'iiti j iioil uM HJio was over prujiout v« : 
 darkiKtvii toward her muliivr wtiS u|>uu lj«r 
 
 ti' r'u Hickiic<ii)«8 
 
 I: 
 
 duruU ui hiB huuit«, b4M:aU'4« no i-ouid uul lawful- 
 ly turn ihftTi nwny, except to mninluin lii« 
 <i 'hodiHOOntouted meiubera 
 
 I. -lit. 
 
 ' ' ' -•holittlrt 
 >■■ far ro- 
 
 li . .. tliit lie 
 
 !■ Iiirt Wilt) in ll.L'ir retirement. 
 
 '■;" i:ir t'lshamrg counifniiuco 
 w<M liKud uctiu iiTi. wlifD it WH.H with- 
 
 h»l"l, wo wnik«Hi , ;,iro liim. Hut we 
 
 \\ ' r bol'ore 
 
 1 1 we ob- 
 
 t . / io the 
 
 \ visited 
 
 V -I, I wns 
 
 ii ily laaiiiiK-i and pruvi-rs were net 
 
 i. sr^-'^tt n<< 1 ?i!p!i'.!v ^/nr^liiiw'! in iLe 
 
 (• 'II (if my 
 
 li I know 
 
 li i:.f World, 
 
 n - a part of n- 
 
 I My l:u*band 
 
 1.' ml Bervauta. He 
 
 J iTA, neither did he 
 
 ever v% rit».' .r .uitr any lUiii^ to take baik. The 
 ftnl li'ni k'nii.i tnrih. I j^vu^fvu^d fi toronf/ gpirit — 
 \\ - ■ ' '..;.- 
 
 ar ;se. I 
 
 II % there- 
 !• 'I tempt It. Tdey wero euibolilfiio.l 
 i;. - <•> dictate to mp on the niit'-only 
 
 <>: •.'.'.■■ ■, II I 
 
 ju . I.) 
 
 I; I 
 
 I :- 
 
 ri:-. - : - ., ;:i- 
 
 ber oi : .ors. i told tlu-ir lather that 
 
 I had < . y heart and my life in the light 
 
 of tlud'rt Word uiid Spirit, earnestly Bought, and 
 I c<")Vild lind nothini? in mvwlf nr r-nur^ whi^h 
 ftpp«iired to ! • 
 
 familv : Imt n 
 
 1,1 r..'-....r':,l ■ 
 
 ri 
 
 I to mind th« proplict'n worda to God; ''Surtlj 
 
 '»■■• ---'■ ■•• -' •■" ••••■ -•' •'■-' :)rjr 
 
 •iiuxid pvritiil liiu Hun to k^o . ji- 
 
 I position to ttiia ir'i'h wax v. i.>. 
 
 ! ward me and niy . J- 
 
 ren who have a ■■• d 
 
 ....... .^ 
 
 -.0 
 
 - . : - :. , .U 
 
 begin with copying • letter Irom ber owo band, 
 
 • SnKrriELP, March 12lh, l'"4S. 
 
 I DbaR At.'MT KUZABETH : Mnther and Kli/j« 
 w. ^ > . I 
 
 t 
 
 I.... ... ,. .., ,., -d 
 
 my ftrentfih. Mother and ' ti 
 
 ftick with the anme. Mother i ■ I, 
 
 but Charlie i« so aa to be ab >ui. Lie raid luauj 
 times wlion he waa sick : "I wi«b Aunt Libbj 
 would I like me." 
 
 I hti ' lo Bch(x>l any thcae four weeks, 
 
 and \<t ■--■ ' ' • - re 
 
 until t< .1 
 
 any ver, _ _ .. . _ , .1 
 
 do not think we shall this sprwij;. \S o nave a 
 very larjje drift in front of the gate. I'uther 
 aaya lie hardly over saw it so tAf^Xi. Uucle 
 George's school in out, and he spent one ni^rbt 
 here last v>> ' A 
 
 Charlie. !'• : ..'"J 
 
 C )ok'a wife ia .. ... . ..■ r 
 
 of doath.s in BarrinKlou of t- I 
 
 can think of nothing more oi it 
 
 be that my Chrialmas present whh a |itMiKiiire 
 aboat an inch long. It coat twenty-i'vf <-'it'i. 
 The marks on the loft baud of the 1 e 
 
 of (^harlie's writintt. Ba ho took i :•» 
 
 use the pen v ' • ■ ' r 
 
 a moment. .r 
 
 meaning. \i>. _ . ij 
 
 \ir\ny; me another sugar monkey. Perhaps tnai is 
 what they mean. 
 
 Give my love to Arabella Knox, and ask ber 
 to answer my letter. 
 
 Please a'Xept this, with much love, fniniyour 
 affectionate niece, Mauy Liitle. 
 
 The sickness of myself aid children. H{x.kon 
 of by Mary, left u»», as scarlet-fever (■o often does 
 ill subjects, with a protracted crjnvalesKtuc?. 
 My husband, or the eM^r rhildron, k!)"<v i ■>t))!iig 
 of weakness, and • ■ ■ i 
 
 everv one who wm » 
 
 I'l' iJiil ho who uovi-r did any tlimif to 
 
 bi (a under no obli(r»V'>ri tn for^rive ; 
 
 tl • r found n ii him. 
 
 V' s: " He 1 •« and 
 
 ^Oi.-.,:^■-.,^. -.: - -,.»ll tin i - ' 
 
 the mercy promised, 'i 
 
 received, to live and wn , 
 
 ab.ited and concealed wrath, for yi .. 
 
 ever}' provocation which the lonft-^ 
 
 everai cumulating enmity ae.iins; mo uuuM givu, 
 
 withdiit uttering a repnwhl il word, was a gift 
 
 which came by faslintr and prayer. When I 
 
 could reconcile myself in no other way, I called 
 
 n HUiforer, and i'h.to was none 
 as the w«-ak 8<;)in;ht to bmr t' 
 weak, while we were 
 upon and spoken of by ' 
 
 Uillii'it^d, Hiid UiV hli.>>l>Hl , . ulUiie>l li,e 
 
 monosyllable '' No" to ; aid <^f the 
 
 kind. Ho was very indu:^. :.i >•> ., 
 and I, relying upon that, had a^ut L! 
 
40 
 
 A MOTHER'S PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 requests to be taken abroad, till she said : " Mo- 
 ther, I don't like to asls fatlier for any thing 
 which he does not choose to grant, he looks so." 
 
 Finding that my husband had tlioui^hts of visit- 
 ing his relatives, in HarpersOeld, I Haltered my- 
 self that providence was opening to us the way 
 lor a cure. My husband had never taken his two 
 younger children to see his own kindred, and at 
 this state of our health, a ride by our own convey- 
 ance to the farther side of the Catskiil Mountains 
 would be health and pleasure to us, and money 
 to him who was so oppressed by the thoughts 
 of supporting ud in sicknes-". 1 ventured to ex- 
 press my thoughts to my husband upon the 
 subject. But his brow contracted and darkened, 
 and as he refased, he said he supposed I would 
 do all in my power to interrupt his going. 
 
 This I knew to be an unmerited charge, for I 
 knew that if I were to plan a journey to my 
 friend'^, I should detire no interruption ; and to 
 do as I would be done unto had long been my 
 study. This accusation, like many of the kind, 
 had its unfavorable effect upon my health. Not 
 that I willed it so, for I sought by every means 
 in my power to restore and preserve health. 
 But it was a law in nature, and therefore a law 
 of God, every jot and tittle of which must be 
 fulfilled, either ia obedience or penalty. About 
 the 1 st of May my husband and a daughter were 
 in re:idinfss to depart on the journey west, when 
 my rapidly failing health led my liusband to hesi- 
 tate. The daughter then repeated the charge of 
 interruption through feigned sickness. I urged 
 that the visit should bi^ prosecuted, believing it 
 best under the circumstances. Asked the phy- 
 sician who was called to assist my husband's 
 judgment in the case, to encourage it. They 
 left to be absent about two weeks. My health 
 failed till friends became alarmed. Mary heard 
 the fears expressed. She had seen the enmity 
 toward me acted out. Her eyes had been weak 
 since her own sickness. Now, she had not the 
 attention she needed, but had an anxiety unfitted 
 to her strength and years. Charlie, too, was 
 taken down with an eruptive erysipelas, spread- 
 ing over his back. Mary screened her eyes par- 
 tially t>om the light, and kept around till the 
 second day of June, when she called to me from 
 her bedroom, and said she could not bear the 
 light at all, so as to arise and dress herself. I 
 was unable to leave my own bed. My servants 
 consisted of a strong woman wl)0 came through 
 the day, doing all the housework and nursing, 
 and returned to her own home at night, and a 
 delicate niece of fourteen, who came to be our 
 company nights, and assist to divert my children. 
 But there was one element in my house which 
 had ever before been wanting. All was peace. 
 Myself and son began to amend. Mary could be 
 led about witli her eyes so covered, as not to let 
 the light fall upon the closed lids. When my 
 husband and daughter returned, we were all 
 comfortable, pleasantly walking and talking 
 Marv being led by the hand. We thought our- 
 selves blessed, in being able to give them so 
 cheerful a reception. But they seemed to see 
 differently. 
 
 The charge of interruption had not been erased, 
 nor of feigned sickness forgiven, but both seemed 
 to have resolved themselves into a charge of ven- 
 geance. And during the five moutlis that Mary 
 lived, shut out from natm'e's light, did their 
 
 treatment of me seem to say: "You have tied 
 up that girl's eyes to excuse yourself from labor, 
 and to take vengeance on us because you were 
 not pernii'ted to go abroad as you desired." But 
 I was conscious that not a word, nor a look, nor 
 a tone, nor a thought of mine, indicated such a 
 heart in me. Mary's power to endure light about 
 her person gradually failed, until she was com- 
 pelled to seek that every ray should be excluded 
 from the room she occupied. And just in pro- 
 portion as she retreated from solar light, did she 
 rise into intellectual and spiritual. She had no 
 pain except that caused to her eyes by admitting 
 light to her room. She asked but one thing be- 
 yond her food and raiment, and that was not to 
 be left alone. But if any one referred, in her 
 hearing, to the strange conduct of her father or 
 sister, a low groan from her, told me that it must 
 not be allowed. 
 
 As I could not endure to be constantly con- 
 fined to a room so unventilated as hers must 
 necessariljr be, and as no other one should at- 
 tempt it long, for health's sake, we oflered to the 
 girls of her acquaintance to take turns and spend 
 each three days in succession in her company, 
 at the rate of fifty cents per week, or the six 
 days allotted to labor, while her father and my- 
 self divided the Sabbath between us. We had 
 medical advice from Dr. Chapman of Egremont, 
 a person of great skill in chronic disease, but of 
 so exten'ive a practice as not to allow cf his 
 visiting his patients very often. This circum- 
 stance lessened the doctor's bill, and increased 
 my own study of disease and medicine. The 
 doc;or told me that my children were scrofulous 
 in their constiiution, and in his opinion, I would 
 do well to go with Marj^ to the vicinity of the 
 sea as soon as she was able, and spend as much 
 time there as I found practicable. To impress 
 my mind the more strongh', he related the his- 
 tory of Mr. Phineas Chapins family, where a 
 scrofulous taint ran through the family, and one 
 after another died of consnmption. Ho had ad- 
 vised this course in relation to a daughter of that 
 family who was beginning to go in the way of 
 several sisters, then deceased. Her mother went 
 with her to the sea, and remained with her till 
 her health improved so as to allow of her being 
 put to the study of music and some other lessons, 
 and then left her near the sea ; and at the time 
 he related this to me she was to all appearance 
 as healthy as any one. 
 
 In my .sf)licitude to do what I could for the 
 dear child, I obtained her father's consent to ad- 
 dress a letter to the principal of the Eye In- 
 firmary, New- York, describing her case as well 
 as I could, and asking advice, to which I received 
 the following answer : 
 
 New-York-, Aug. 2Gth, 1848. 
 To Mrs. Ralph Little : 
 
 Madam : In reply to your letter in reference 
 to the case of your daughter, I would state, that 
 it is impossible for me to give a decided opinion 
 without seeing your daughter. From your de- 
 scription, I should say she could be cured with- 
 out much doubt. The New-York Eye Infirmary 
 is a charitable institution, founded and supported 
 at the public expense, for the purpose of allbrd- 
 ing relief to paupers. If you wish your daugh- 
 ter admitted a.s a patient at this Institute, the 
 only expense is for board. The advice of the 
 
A Mi)THKU'a PEACK OFKKRIXG. 
 
 4! 
 
 rir^'con and Uio mediciues are given gratuit* i emplf-ycil n •i*nrr«trt "^ fo flt 1*^ \^nr.- <••<• 
 ou«ly. ' wliich h 
 
 My ndvim in, thnt you brinor your daughter to liulit >> 
 
 til. 'I ■ <. and judr 
 
 Ol ! 
 
 air 
 
 
 It III pi<-S-.»lolp liiu! - 
 
 y«)U, llmt you niny : 
 
 your IreuliiKut ihiTi'. A, in i.ms, M i>, 
 
 M'J tlouaton ijt., near (Jrvvno St 
 
 ir-lill, itii«l 
 1 U» Biuist 
 1 • 
 
 1 r, 1 inquired to know, na doflnitoly 
 
 t nii.i .. .... . 
 
 wuy of pnyii • 
 
 h^ . rii::ii't In tin' . xi" ■.]'<■' of .•o'i:..'i ! 
 
 l-l L-. !- At 
 
 in 
 
 tli: 
 
 
 tl' 
 111 
 
 fu' 
 
 ll..riy . 
 "11. 
 
 1 if ho would 
 
 ' t tako Mary a' ,.| 
 about it, ' lio »:ii'l, aii'i 
 
 w 
 
 
 her lather s exjK-Dse. Tho 
 
 w 
 
 
 .' ua; to hi c!.-:;p by tho 
 
 li; , 
 
 
 •h tho 
 
 fnl. 
 
 
 bin In 
 
 do. 1 
 
 
 
 great 
 
 il 
 
 
 ail' " 
 
 
 
 f.r 
 
 
 
 nn 
 
 
 
 This wurn 
 
 could bu utilireiy ui.>«tiuct Iruiu all tliu 
 
 Othrr, 
 
 nnd 
 
 bo attend«d to us my leisure and 
 
 8tr. 
 
 
 .ved. And all tho butttr not uso<l 
 
 iti 
 
 
 , I wiis allowed to sell wlicro I 
 
 d. 
 
 
 
 h.. 
 Ki 
 
 
 . uhicli a 1 
 .:i old obi 
 
 Ti 
 
 
 ■le, for the 
 
 V. 
 
 
 1 bv others 
 
 nil • 
 
 
 
 ri'i 
 
 
 
 til 
 
 
 
 vai.l I. 
 
 r MiivM tno to." 
 
 j 1 luriiior urged liie r.cc<.>^iiifS in " 
 j and again asked in her iM-h.ilf, b-:! 
 thing to HJiy about it," v-'ua the 
 I ibcn snid : " Mr. Liltlo, w 
 
 ojuld, unii liitil, lu liiiihii wiial \c-v r^iuitiiicU for 
 nie to do, should be my f^*«'«'t employ. 
 
 Mary went to v> rt 
 
 of NoveniUr, on I 
 
 a lear tiiat liic oiUnioor air 
 w;i3 injurious: b!!t eh" '.vroi d 
 
 ■Ay: 'ir you only knew h- 1 
 
 i for beinir out, mother, you 
 
 to 
 
 si. 
 
 tnilr lifo-invifroratinp, 
 
 luighl go. &bd 1 j'id(^<.d lite ride '. 
 
 h<»r. Hot b^fof" th» r\nao of f>fr\ 
 
 . than bIic said tl made lur tiiad 
 r a littl", sho lonnM np-in my 
 
 uldi.r. iuuktd i- ■ 'l 
 
 1 : " Mother, w i '• 
 
 into Uio u)H.-a u.r .. 
 She nevir mom b. 
 
 0.1 , . :■ 
 
 lo 
 
 : that I kuew not what 
 d ever Ijcen njbjcct to aevcro hoad-ache. 
 
 ,-, ,1 ■: ■■ ■■ f I .. I'r^t a, ,i:...i - . . i. I .III 
 
 dr. 
 
 Setik, d J>vi5i-<ioiiJi, ;i 
 
 our cxpcujicd wbol 
 
 ■ Itrfiiy sli-j ojuI'I iiul iioid 
 ...ng. I I my orma; but no, '■ 
 
 r i..to 
 ..o the 
 
A mother's peace offering. 
 
 pillow ; and as I laid her back, she plaintively- 
 uttered : " Oh ! that I could get health and 
 strength." I desired medical advice ; but I de- 
 sired not to meet the bitterness which seemed 
 excited if I asked love or money from my hus- 
 band. However, a sense of duty impelled me, 
 and on Wednesday evening, December 20th, at 
 eight b'clock, I approached my husband for the 
 last time, to make intercession in Mary's behalf 
 She was lying upon a bed in the south-west cor- 
 ner of the south front-room of our house, with 
 her head to the west. 
 
 On the same side of the room with her head, a 
 door opened into the keeping-room of Mr. Little. 
 I timidly went out, half assured he would hear 
 me for a suflering child's sake. I told him I 
 would be glad to have the doctor called in the 
 morning to see Mary. But, alas 1 I had ap- 
 proached my monarch when the golden scepter 
 was not held out, and death must follow! With 
 a manner which can not be conceived by those 
 who have not seen, but which was too well un- 
 derstood by the wounded, fluttering heart of the 
 sick child, ho said : " I should think you had 
 found out by this time that doctors do no good." 
 I replied; "Scripture says, they that are sick 
 need a physician." He said : " I know Scripture 
 says so, but I should think you had found out 
 better by this time. Well," continued he, 
 " what are yru going to do about it ? Are you 
 going to take a club and drive me ? If you are, 
 why don't you go at it?" I had often felt an op- 
 pression in the region of the heart when I had 
 met his wrath, silently or otherwise expressed. 
 But now, such whs my agony, it seemed that 
 death must literally follow soon, if I found no 
 relief. I returned to Mary's room, noticing, as I 
 retreated, that I had left the door open during 
 this memorable conversation. I looked at the 
 dear child. There she lay. neither moving nor 
 opening her lips. I fell upon my knees before 
 her bed, laid my head upon the same pillow with 
 her own, and cried unto the Great Physician of 
 body and of soul to take our case into his own 
 hand ; and I had an answer of peace. Instantly 
 was the distress about the heart, and the greater 
 anguish of spirit, removed. And the unseen 
 Angel of the Covenant did not leave me till sick- 
 ness fled from my child, to return no more. But 
 who shall picture the scene which was to follow 
 in that furnace and that Beihesda ? Why did 
 God give me to behold alone a scene without a 
 parallel, and yet deny me a scholar's pen or an 
 artist's pencil? He is wise in all his appoint- 
 ments, therefore I patiently wait till he shall 
 show me why. Nothing ever passed between my 
 husband and self relative to the conversation 
 about the doctor. The next day, he went of his 
 own accord for Dr. Kellogg, who, at that time, 
 resided in Egremont. The doctor was in poor 
 health, the weather severe, and traveling bad. 
 I do not know how many times he saw Mary, 
 nor do I believe that human skill could have 
 saved her after the blow given, through a phy- 
 sician being asked for her. The doctor came 
 once in two or three days, until sickness in his 
 own person prevented. Then we were too far 
 from him to know the cause of his delay, and 
 waited from day to day in suspense. We were 
 remote from neighbors, except a family in a 
 tenant-house. I had learned to think I must 
 never ask for help to take care of myself or 
 
 children, while able to arise and walk. An aged 
 colored woman had taken the place of the daugh- 
 ter who had charge of work through the summer. 
 My husband was alone in his department of 
 labor. The cold was so intense, that water 
 would freeze near the windows in our room, and 
 for seventeen days and nights, after I first asked 
 a physician, was I alone with the suflering child, 
 except as her father came into the room to bring 
 the fuel, and the physician to pay his few short 
 visits. She once asked me if I could not bring 
 the wood into the room, and prevent a necessity 
 for her father's coming in ; but I told her I had 
 not strength, and she said no more about it. He 
 once told me he thought Mary did not like to 
 have him come into her room, but I do not know 
 what led him to think so. Soon after the scene 
 of her father's anger, she said to me most ten- 
 derly: "Mother, do you love me?" "Yes, 
 Mary." Soon the question was repeated: "Mo- 
 ther, do you love me ?" " Yes, my child." No 
 groans escaped her lips, but still the question 
 came: "Mother, do you love me? does any body 
 love me?'' "Mary, my dear child, it has been 
 my love for you that has led me to pray and 
 strive for tlie preservation of my own life these 
 many years." " Mother, I know it can't be but 
 that you love me ; but it don't seem as if any 
 body loved me ; it don't seem as if I was worthy 
 to be loved. "0 mother! does any body love 
 me ? does any body care for me ?" " Poor 
 Mary!" said I. "Don't call me poor; I know 
 I am poor, but it makes me feel worse to be 
 called so. mother! mother! does any 
 body love me ?" Thus she lay, and thus spake, 
 desiring that I would not move or speak when 
 it could be avoided, until she would sink from 
 exhaustion into a short slumber. 
 
 " Mother, mother, mother," in a tone subdued, 
 languid, feeble, and tender, was much of the 
 time all that escaped her lips; and when I felt 
 constrained to try to say a soothing word, she 
 said: ''You need not reply, mother; it makes 
 me feel worse to hear you, but I must say some- 
 thing, I feel so bad." 
 
 Oh ! how many hundreds of times the word 
 "mother" fell upon my ear from those parting 
 lips, in that last sickness, is only known to Ilim 
 by whom the very hairs of our head are num- 
 bered. She sometimes sank into a slumber, 
 which gave a refreshing rest to my own tried 
 nerves, but each succeeding return from these 
 her transient slumbers brought an increase of 
 inteuBity to her sufferings. " mother I do 
 you love me ? Does any body love me ? Does 
 any body care for me ? nn^ther 1 what does 
 make me feel so ? It seems as if I must run, 
 and jump, and scream." All this time she lay 
 motionless. Not a muscle seemed to move ex- 
 cept her lips. Her voice only subdued and 
 plaintive, till at last a sudden shriek burst forth, 
 rending the air around ; but she immediately 
 spake with her accustomed voice: "Mother, 
 what does make me scream so? I can't help it. 
 mother ! you don't know what I suffer. 
 Nobody knows what I suffer. No one can con- 
 ceive the agony I feel." Thus passed the days 
 and nights. She would remember the accus- 
 tomed hour for retiring ; ask me to go to bed, 
 and as I leaned upon my couch, would utter 
 "Goodnight, mother," in the same sweet tones 
 as when in health. Her mind sometimes slighlly 
 
A MOTIIKRS PEACE OFFKIUNG. 
 
 .10 
 •lu 
 
 wanderpJ, but «u at no time lout to a ftill arn^ 
 of all lii<r diHtrcMM. 8ho at ono timv uid : ' Mo 
 tlior, hi)\v Utntr liavo wa b««n in prinuti ?" At 
 
 rata* h«r hoart to God in prnr-r nnd shr c-ilmly 
 annnrorod : " Y" h." l« • o 
 
 all appearanoe. bo<Yinia I 
 
 1 M9, I 
 fuU iny ttUrii^Ui BO lur ((unu tliitl 1 oiu'd not 
 Httomi't tf> Bri"« and impiilr t'l" flr»> wtih fnH 
 ,: 
 
 occaxion lor r 
 
 of \\' '•'•• Hll 
 
 II liiu Unl ' . uC llie 
 
 :rom it« jir:- Jler 
 
 . "d Lin acxu>i' tiit'l tai:ii!iLi« amid 
 
 eU, ami t<.uk 1)10 bi-U at iiiH (iximl liuur lur retir- 
 log. Mary then had sunlc into her last slrrp. till 
 palsj ahould come to tlio ri'liof of her »'. 
 norve*. Her fnlher tinj hli-pt, till htr 
 sh ' ' "■ ' . ' ' . 'o In his mrs h 
 
 ' , which, I am per- 
 
 HLi ii vfHs drowned in 
 
 the ciraiiis which llow Irom the " Sonp of Mufca 
 and tin* Lainlx" "O mother! do you love mo? 
 Dooa any body lore me ? Does any body care 
 for mo?" and then tho xuddnn slirmk, which 
 
 V _' : "O ir.< don't kuow 
 
 w r. Oht i: -. Oh I this 
 
 agony, it 1:1 inconcoivabiu by liiustc who don't 
 
 fb«l it. Ti i"* <inutt*'m»>le. It is indescribable. 
 
 motli' (.r, does any body love 
 met 'ire for me?" These 
 c" •• : ht rn, wiih short inter- 
 V;; ', lille<l tho hours from 
 ni _ Jay, in that xick room, 
 (sbali I call it?) Ah I 1 knew not then where 
 to Cfo'" it, 
 
 ' lary had taupht me not to reply to 
 
 h' I felt coii.siriiinfMl to nttflr iwime- 
 tl. 
 tl 
 A 
 
 1 ' " . . - ■ • 
 •very UiUy loves* you. ' Tnen willi a tone mild 
 but Mrm and n««iirf>d, <»he paid: "No, mother; 
 y" ' I .0." I aaid: " I don't 
 
 k;. ^ vou." " Don't 
 
 hai. .... ; •' -• ' •' — '• "Yes, 
 mother, you k m pro- 
 bably the OTi! J that 
 
 ever fell upon hor faiher'a onr. And thouK'h she 
 8e<»m>P/1r pMired her who!f> «ar>tt! into hrr rn- 
 111' had ever '• 
 
 h' - her her 
 
 T:. . . r , . 
 
 wit 11 1 r 
 
 brow, u: ^ r 
 
 which hhd diKciiar^ed irom her eyea, arid uned 
 tip<>:i tln-m durinif the night, .^f I Mt tlni'* 'm- 
 1 pave utternnoe to f s 
 
 ve for tho cherished < I 
 
 in a r\v 1 
 
 took a .'■ .. ..... .::il 
 
 mvKdf and nt the Faa c time look upon Mary. 
 Hor father came into tho room, stood a loiig 
 time by her bedside, gazing in sileuoo upon tho 
 form Iwforp him, ard at ih»» ««m»» time holding 
 
 .'.v tliat 
 .. He 
 
 .1^.. ..J.. ■,..,. n,-- . ,.,1 .1 .•.,. -v ,.. ..n the 
 
 btd, turned lii« hack to Mary, and as !>•• sl'V>d 
 with hi.s ln'Hd over the stove by whioh I was sit- 
 ting, the tears gushtd forth from his tye«. (which 
 I hud never before known to weep.) and Ml, not 
 in drop,'*, but in streams, upon tho stove. Ii was 
 then to me u marvel. He lelt the roam, where 
 silence had not been broken si ' - . ■ . 
 I a^ain sat alone where sti .1 
 
 reigned. I thoujtht I hca.'d i . .,.1 
 
 breathing of the word ''Molhor." 1 aro-<e and 
 went to the bed and looked inquiri'^gly at the 
 child. Not a muscle moved ; but there waa a 
 distinct breathing ntferanc« which »aid: "I/Ot 
 yoa" I ji' ' ■ ' ' i. 
 
 ved not, I :i 
 
 I snid. ..,..,,, .. .r 
 
 .■^nd ttie fetill small 
 1 : " Yea, ma'am." ''I'', 
 iher .' ' " Yos, ma'am." "I Sitid : ' Mary, nro 
 you better?" She fixed her eyes np- a mo in 
 silence, and T, who had so long reed their ex- 
 pressioD. understood thtm to say: "I know not 
 what you mean." I thr ■ ■ •• « - ■ -- 
 
 aick ?" '• Not very." '. 
 
 you liiwo ii.:ii)y times of ,..:. 
 if - 11 ?" " No, ma am,' v 
 
 t' - ■ palsied lips. T sii i 
 
 ry »;ok, for a few 
 •r it now." S! ■ .1 
 
 Sf!: ..... .... 
 
 much as to the reader. Mr. 1 
 of day and left the r\)om. NU. 
 Utterings a few tTiOinentM, when h* r arli> 
 became indislini't, h«>r tnnerni« <u>«mfd to 
 mouth, ; ' 
 at ail. 
 
 me, all I.-.! . . .... ... , 
 
 about Cfilimir her to leave nv 
 she was willing to go? Shi 
 don't know." I a.sked her if her »■ . 
 and aho said "Yes." I asked her .: 
 
 > ri*Mi<>ru 10 me tL«» ctiiid vHiiuui i 
 )■ fl.««d Mt hnnhnnd «i—rppd 
 
 d to tw rv*ttoreO. i: 
 turn her body, the h 
 
44 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 turned with the chest than if her neck were 
 broken. Yet the breath of" hfn chained her s-oul 
 to eaith till noon of Friday, January twellth, 
 1849. In the mean time, she occasionally 
 gatliered strength to answer a tew injjuiiies ia 
 the same still, small voice, which could only be 
 bearJ where a deathly silence reigned. Bat her 
 meek, and quiet, and loving t^oul spake turouKh 
 the mild lustre of her eyes, and as friends came 
 around her bed she gave them a parting hand, 
 to speak the farewell her lips migbt not utter 
 One of her arms was strengthened so that she 
 could more it, but the other remained completely 
 paralyzed. And when she could not speak, she 
 could raise the riglit arm to express a negative or 
 an affirmative. At three o'clock of her last 
 morning on earth, I arose from my slumbers and 
 asked the watcher in attendance (Miss Mary 
 Wilcox) to wit,hdraw and give me her place by 
 my da'igiiter's side. I found she could no longer 
 spea'c, but retained all her consciousness. I 
 asked her some questions relative to her present 
 wants, naming something, and saying, if you 
 wish it, raise your hand. She expressed lier 
 wishes in reference to any thing I thus named. 
 I then said to her : " Mary, are you willing to 
 die? If you are, I wish you to raise your hand." 
 She looked at nie with an earnest, loving, un- 
 complaining look; but her hand was motionless. 
 Witii an anxious heart, I said : " Mary, do you 
 wish to get well ? If you do, raise your hand." 
 She fixed upon me the same look, and her hand 
 remained mcionless. I then said: "Mary, do 
 you desire that God's will be done in respect to 
 your living or dying '?" Instantly her hand was 
 raised. With a full heart I said : " my child ! 
 that is just a3 I wish you to feel; and jast as I 
 wish to feel myself" No sooner did 1 say "just 
 as I wish to feel myself," than her hand was 
 more quickly raised, to be longer held up than 
 at any other time. Thus was I told, with an 
 eloquence which mortal tongue can never utter, 
 the depf-i of love tbv the mother in the heart of 
 that dying child ; and the still deeper love for 
 the Lord her God. What could I ask more? 
 I addressed her in the poet's words : 
 
 " See, Israel's .gentle Shepherd'stands, 
 With all-engaging -cliarms ; 
 Hark ! how he calls the tender lambs, 
 And fwlds them in his arms." 
 
 I said to Mary : " Your mother submits and yields 
 you back to God, to dwell with him as one of 
 Jesus' lambs." This was our last conversation 
 on earth. 
 
 At nine in the morning of that day I stood by 
 her bed wiih a garment in my hand, designing to 
 change h^r dress, as I thought her gradual sinking 
 might continue a day or two longer. She then 
 did by me, as she had for two or three days been 
 doing l:)y others, gave me her hand as a token of 
 farewell. I u .derstood the token, and said to 
 her: "Mary, you can no longer pronounce the 
 'good-by,' but I'll remember how often and how 
 sweetly you said it during the past summer." 
 It liad been my custom while she was in the 
 dark room, lo go in and inform her whenever I 
 was to leave the house. She would wait a little, 
 to bring her mind to acquiesce, and then most 
 pleasantly say: "Well, mother, come and tell 
 me when you are rsady lo go." When my bon- 
 
 net and shawl were put on, I would go into her 
 room and say, "Now, Mary, I am ready:" 
 and the child whom I fed, and dres.sed, and 
 combed, and washed, for many months in a 
 darkness as dense as that of the grave, till I 
 daily longed to behold her features one(3 more, 
 would come to me, imprint the kiss of affection, 
 and say, " Good-by, mother," in tones more rich 
 and sweet than I can express. I folded and 
 laid aside the garment I had desiLrned to put 
 upon the djing child. Soon her difficult respira- 
 tion confirmed the suggestion siiven by tfie part- 
 ing hand. Friends and neighbors were sum- 
 moned to her bedside. The difficult breathing 
 increased, and I felt constrained to go to my 
 closet and ask my heavenly Father (if it could 
 be consistent with his holy will) to grant the 
 waiting spirit a speedy and an easy release. I 
 went back to speak to Mary for the last time, 
 till I, witli her, shall awake at the sound of the 
 archangel's trump. I said to her: "Mary's 
 sufierhigs are almost over. Angels are waiting 
 to convey her spirit to Jesus' bosom, there to 
 remain as a lamb of his forever. Mother will 
 be coming soon ; perhaps very soon." Then 
 Mary departed ; yea, she flew away to be at 
 rest. And as the Angel of Death touched the 
 fair fortn Mary was now deserting, there was a 
 dissolving view upon the countenance, such as 
 no human artist can imitate. The King's daugh- 
 ter, all glorious within, could not so drop her 
 mantle that it should not bespeak the character 
 of her who had worn it. As I closed the shut- 
 ters of those windows which would no more 
 need the light of the sun, or of the moon, one of 
 the weeping friends. Miss Julia Roys, who sat by, 
 said: " Why, Jane, how can you be so calm, 
 and close the eyes of your departed child ?" Ah ! 
 she has since forded the stream of death, and 
 now she understands " why." 
 
 And what was to be the effect of this unlooked- 
 for affliction to Mary's flither? He had fldlen 
 to weeping. Yes, he who had long put on the 
 stoic, and set all trials at defiance, must now 
 weep. The promise is ; " Though weeping en- 
 dure for a night, joy shall arise in the morning." 
 But a long night of weeping was before him ; 
 yea, a night of seven years. And ere that long 
 night closed, he told me he believed he hud shed 
 barrels of tears sinca Mary's death. 
 
 He had been laboring, during a long life, to 
 justify himself by the deeds of the law. After 
 the former deaths in his family, he began to feel 
 some need of Gospel. He took to himself a 
 partner in life, in whom he had conhdeuce as 
 one taught of God, and who, had this confidence 
 contiiiued, might have assisted him to find the 
 light of life. But some body readily uudei stood 
 that I had married one so much older than my- 
 self from no otlier motive than love to money. 
 That being the case, my professions of love to 
 God must bo hypocritical. Ho had failed to use 
 his reason in regard to duty to the Avife, until its 
 light was put out. So / see the case. I did not 
 so clearly see the truth then as I do now. 
 
 His first wife loved another man more than 
 himself. His second wife loved his money more 
 than himself And no possil.ile or positive proof 
 could convince him to the contrary. But the 
 spirit that troubled him was a dumb spirit, suf- 
 fering none but himselfj single and wedded, to 
 know its workings, until, alas! the blows that 
 
A MOTIfKR's PEACE OFKEKINr,. 
 
 45 
 
 wife dosiirrefl to c-orroct «r tiike vrTffnnr<» on ' thr^n m^v* mnr*' r^'-riff] h'n );p« upr.n r» 
 Iho erriiitr vomnu liml 8lnin on 
 viftim. Tlio ••oiiwM'nitwl Ininb lind 
 
 I,. :■ ■ ■ : 
 
 in;h"rrt on 
 ■ If 
 
 la 
 
 \' lit l)o buried 
 
 — thfj " )*«ii ot d«'»lli ' Lie toiiid. The fair lomi 
 
 which a little before b^f? f mfr.-Kl Cr rn the dark 
 
 room, lie tK'iiro tn ' v wiish- 
 
 c<l nml chid, atiil (Mo- 
 
 Ihit I, 
 
 work i>i w 
 
 Btnnd nluiip, nncl hv fintv iiui li-au u|>i'd nii'. I 
 
 and my l!vif<~ ciilit ?r»i"»t yt be eupportt'd, and 
 
 I)OHce V' ddn-ii !«■ soii^'ht. 
 
 The "i !id wiis ch.f-tin'd 
 
 ing; no. nolhin;^ but n wpuUher, where alio ' to hnvo ft Cdnservaior.' Thai, hko mnny m 
 niif^ht sleep till inorniiip. A tjorious morning, ' short sayingn, was as ft headinff to n r' a 
 wliOBe day nhall know no cloud. j ■which niu!>t be read in the dark. A 
 
 Hut whi'ii sliul) «hn l>« bnried ? \Vhi>r» nnd ■ impltiHl insanity. He bad R;iid noi! 
 
 his 
 
 Pter 
 
 thil Btiticipations. pi 
 
 II birth. But now, ti 
 
 but Mary had within a f<.-\v moritiitt 
 
 ■I • " >'<>'b<"'. T »'V-m to di'^liko to 
 
 - to me 
 
 older." 
 
 ii'iii 1.. •! ■ .1 '■ [1 ■ ■• V/OTVl 
 
 ; And 
 content- 
 
 go round liml n rtiild t«f Ion \ 
 
 h^t it 1. ■ t .1 1 nU,}^ that nodli; 
 
 r- [ able at that age, even where vmmg 
 
 i- ■ if. 
 
 I ii.i<;»ir«.U to the house of my pastor, to learn 
 if ho could preach n fuiH-ral Bi-rmon l<'>r her on 
 tl. " ■' ■ ■ , at the 
 
 < rin>: a 
 
 t'. .. ..ill o(' ■> 
 
 \ ; r. Tulier.) • 
 
 I adapt it ii 
 iitiices of my chiltl. 
 lUh, 1R49, at nnf> 
 •in her CfP 
 Ikwl out s 
 ■ ■■.i.>c oTi r '-^ - ■ 
 :h : " We \'. 
 how did 1 
 ^1 Ader tlie services n 
 '■ nin:nr bns sinfo told me 
 oih<T!< of the 
 • ve to Marv 
 t' ■I" l.vo, why 
 
 ."■^ on whom 1 
 
 lo....'. . ^ : the joys I 
 
 experiencfd, niii« ii t>y tienris around me. TIk' 
 ."vir on thai rt.iy wm ba.my, and every breath tint 
 I inliiiled Its I f<'ll.>wed ray child t<> her pniT«, 
 s<>omed as dcsi'^ncd cuix^-tu ly for my i(ivig'«m- 
 lion by Him who came t<.» bind up the brukco 
 heart. 
 
 Wo reiarned from .Mary'.x praT<- •" '■•- ' '- 
 
 dwelling. A light had jrone out. 
 thiU night, complfttned <>( Mr Hra 
 judgment of him.sclf in the fiinrmlstruiun. fru«-)i 
 a thought bad not occunxd to my miud. Ue 
 
 1. ■ . 
 
 far fk.-« hv oiUiil lu I In; itinut 
 
 And on th" Salibatb. .T'tnu . 
 o'clock p. »!., M.iry 
 the otiuf h frfim w 
 
 r.-cl ti 
 last I" 
 
 ti. ■• 
 
 ..r 
 
 -Iroy 
 
 •ii 
 
 I aiid wlii-n lie lic«iiiif ii-ntdurk in iii." ■ 
 
 ho told ine he Ix-lievcd he had been .; 
 
 I late. What this conservator ineanl 1 k 
 
 and dare not n-*k, li-st a spirit that would 
 
 ' mo wnn setkinp for a or- - • • ' - 
 
 I niifrht find an cxcu.^o iVi ii 
 
 j could now bo-tr no moi r 
 
 Mary's death, his lialf-brotiier, >> ., 
 
 deceased in {'hicnfro, heq'ifnthirc >■ tv 
 
 to himself and his yo>i r 
 
 I wife, and anpoititine tli< ;i 
 
 ■ T' ' • l,u- 
 
 \ <• • n ten 
 
 V' , ... . . , ::,v .... t 
 
 ■ r had btiilt up, ami x 
 
 •••r. Two other sons v i| 
 
 I :ind linti Innns of their own. The only leimin- 
 
 I ine sf^n wft" with his uncle in ('hif^eo nt the 
 
 — was executor . i il 
 
 •i\ 'Ihe two d: 
 
 ■■ ; .-• . : ■•'■ ' .1 
 
 r with lit • 
 
 • \ hi had Hv _ <[ 
 
 j now to hnvo arrived — the time when no ii tiu' i.co 
 
 I in our hou.'«c,«luiuld divert rrvh''.<»bnn'i'-' tn---) :rr>m 
 
 I the truth, ntid he should e 
 
 ' .IS I was; fshould in hisr! : ti 
 
 i l:i' ■ 1 lioni''. 1 •- 
 
 V. iiad no r- • i- 
 
 I jr..... ' l.'-w t: :.i 
 
 , urged ' !. 
 
 But I M to 
 
 aasert the r.^hi 1 U.td b<<ii lo'.d ll.ai n.w.o of 
 
 his children Imd for yoam talked of their fith.-i's 
 
 living with t! ' ' : itlitr'a 
 
 house. Hut r plans 
 
 beliered it 
 
 :n. Me <>on- 
 
 ciliijtii lo gu l<j CliicOgti tu i-|pvliii the SUl:i;:irr. 
 
 He aaked my oldest brother, who had poh^x jv-iuq 
 
46 
 
 A mother's peace offering-. 
 
 of the old homestead of the Roys fiimily, to 
 board myself and son. My brother cousented; 
 and a^ my father was then living with him, re- 
 tired from busy life, and having at his command 
 a horse and buggy, I was placed in circumstances 
 most I'avorable for restoring health. After ar- 
 ranging for my board, my husband one evening 
 caused an extra lire, and asked me to withdraw 
 while he should have a conference with his child- 
 ren. Next morning he said he was ready to take 
 me to my brother's as soon as I could be ready ; 
 that he had concluded to sell the farm on which 
 we lived to his second son ; that he should also 
 divide among his children most of his personal 
 property, as we should not have occasion to use 
 much of it. I had never interfered in any way 
 with his business affairs which he chose to keep 
 from me, or inquired, Why do you so? and felt 
 no disposition to do so now. I told him I w^ould 
 be ready to go next morning. Before retiring 
 that night he toW me it would be necessary that 
 I should sign the deed, which would be ready on 
 the next Saturday, and they would either take 
 the deed to me or take me to the village. I be- 
 lieved that I could not " do justly,'' (a thing 
 which God requires of man,) and sign the deed, 
 without a condition. He had valued his farm at 
 five thousand dollars, and I said: "I will sign 
 the deed if you will secure to me five hundred 
 dollars." He said he should not do it ; he did not 
 think of any such trouble ; and added : " I de- 
 spise hypocrisy." I wished very much that he 
 might pursue the business of distributing, for I 
 felt assured it would remove a strong temptation 
 to deception and waste in his house. I believed 
 that the expectation of something from Chicago 
 increased the solicitude concerning the sharers of 
 the house; and that I might do all that in me 
 lay to promote peace. I told my husband at that 
 time, that if he would secure to me a thousand 
 dollars I would sign a quit-claim to all he pos- 
 sessed, or ever might possess, and ask nothing 
 more from him than my board (if I should live) 
 during the remainder of his life. 
 
 Had he been himself, as when I married him, 
 or known me as he would have done if no 
 wrong influence had come upon his mind, he 
 would doubtless have done it. But he had com- 
 mitted himself to other counsel than mine. He 
 confided in that counsel and in the power of his 
 own strong and steady hand to execute its will. 
 Whether its name be "legion," or "trio," or 
 "unit," is not for me to say. But its disastrous 
 workings I have read, and will now attempt to 
 write. Nothing further was said to me about 
 the deed. I went to my brother's to board. 
 My husband gave a deed of the farm to his 
 second son, and of his real estate in the village 
 (the birthplace of Mary) to his eldest son. This 
 he had held at three thousand dollars. He went 
 to Chicago ; was thrown from a stage and broke 
 his leg. Charlie was very sick with the scarlet- 
 fever in April after his father left. This again 
 left him with very weak nerves, and myself 
 worn and feeble. I was not able to do my own 
 washing or sewing through the summer. Yet 
 my body required exercise and my mind occupa- 
 tion ; and my friends very generously contributed 
 to these objects. I did what I could to compensate 
 them, and left the rest with God. My husband 
 returned in autumn. He gave me a cold hand. 
 I endeaTored to interest him in conversation, but 
 
 he only gave the monosyllabic reply. When we 
 retired, he took a separate bed and spoke not. 
 He soon made arrangements to return to the 
 house where Mary died, to spend the winter. 
 My strength did not allow me to do without a 
 hand-maid, and for the first time in my lifa I was 
 served by Irish help. My husband was " dark," 
 as Irish Mary expressed it. Charlie wa,s subject 
 to sudden and severe inflammatory attacks af- 
 fecting the brain. On one occasion he was play- 
 ing as wfeU as usual at twilight, when he half- 
 play fully said, " My ear aches," but continued 
 to complain till he raved, except as he sank into 
 a short sleep, from which he would awake with 
 screeches, and springing from his bed. His 
 father went next day to Town Meeting without 
 having laid ofl' his coat or rested his head through 
 the night. He that day told a daughter-in-law 
 he had no reason to think Charlie had long to 
 live. Knowing my husband was intending to 
 go West in the spring, I wrote and obtained a 
 situation at Eaton's Neck, L. I., where I, by 
 teaching a few pupils, could have board for my- 
 self and son, and one dollar a week. I was not 
 able to sit up through the day when I entered 
 upon my second stage of teachership. But I 
 had learned to go forward, though weak, when 
 the pursuit of life seemed to demand it, trusting 
 to Him who teaches that the life is more than 
 meat, and the body than raiment. When I re- 
 turned in autumn, my husband had returned for 
 the winter from Chicago, and was stopping with 
 his daughter, who married one year laofore, 
 and commenced house-keeping m the spring. I 
 stopped at a brother's, and my husband called 
 to ask that Charlie and self should be allowed 
 to stay through the winter at a dollar a week 
 each. His request was granted. I was yet 
 waiting the time for which I had ever hoped, 
 when i should enjoy a peaceful, quiet home^ and 
 at last apply to my husband's " malady " the 
 remedy he had so long since discovered. I had 
 in autumn become so strong as to believe that I 
 might, in a hired house in the village, where the 
 intellect, and heart, and soul could be fed with- 
 out serving guests in my own house, do without 
 hired help. Before I left the Island, I consulted 
 a man who owned a house on the Plain in Shef- 
 field, and found he would hire to us the second 
 floor for thirty-five dollars per year. I ventured 
 to write my husband and tell him the terms, 
 suggest that it might be a good home for us, 
 and ask him to reply before I should leave the 
 Island. Before giving further particulars of my 
 husband's course, I will copy such letters as he 
 was led to address me, from which, as from those 
 addressed to my former self, the reader can draw 
 his osvn inferences. 
 
 SOMONAUK, nth June, 18-49, Monday. 
 Mrs. Little: Your letter which was mailed 
 the 3d May, I did not get till last Friday, 8th 
 June. Where it bad been so long, I do not 
 know. I received intelligence of Charlie's sick- 
 ness by letter from Anna, but not till he had got 
 better so as to run about. I was thus spared 
 the pain of being left in suspense about his get- 
 ting along. I went to the interior, seventy 
 miles, in the stage, on business, and on my re- 
 turn, had the misfortune to have my left leg 
 broken, both bones between the knee and ankle 
 a little below the middle, by stage accident. 
 
A mothek's peace offekino. 
 
 47 
 
 The roniU WPfo Awful. I huppily had ft friond | I will hor« axpUln. rhurlUt. whnn ha wa 
 
 il lip mt MM l<> kvvp ii tiirMi^iit, ntiii 
 '■»t«i?i«^ of tho oih«.r pf»'MiAni.««r?«. e^'t 
 
 my iiv 
 wi'.h 111 
 
 nil 
 
 q' 
 
 J. M,-.. ,.l-l 
 
 r. r. Mr. I 
 
 rii' . i llitii Fr.. 
 
 day, Hiiii Htaia tire ditys. 1 am sixty miiea 
 
 from Chicajco. 
 
 Tho house in which I ntn eonfli'od ia a log- 
 houHe, cif^hty foot lonfr, and known liy tiie name 
 of the tour-ftory houno, but f 
 on Iho Ilriil li()<^r. I liavo l> 
 
 daii.i n- .i ii. II I .W'-n care f>f. : .» 
 
 b- .lud and attcnlivo to me. I 
 
 hii ..lit, nud can bear most of my 
 
 wii^iii >.u luy Itioiu leg, and get about prettr 
 co'ii''>rtf\»ilv (m crutches. Shall probably go out 
 8(1 - t.>-day. TliiH ia tl.o tlrst letter I 
 
 li 1 •ince tho luvident, except a few 
 
 li! ■• ' '■ >'• ''<\. I might 
 
 h". I few days 
 
 ear < I am in 
 
 hopes tn \>v ubiw iti waik in a low days, and re- 
 turn to Oliicago. This accident has so much in- 
 terrupted my business, that I may not be able to 
 return till i)ctober. My bodily health during 
 nr: •' ' ' t as usual. Give 
 
 Mt Dear Sos : Your father felt very bad to 
 know that you had beeu .so sick, but was glad 
 to lp«m that ynii had got belter. I have also 
 br ', not from Bickne.«s like 
 
 yi 1 lesr. I lay upon my 
 
 buir.,.'.. „. ■■■••• ' ' ' '^' the bed or 
 
 turning over. :ter, so that 
 
 I c»n sit by I; s letter. It 
 
 is a long time since yuu and your mother wrote 
 to me, but only three days since I got the letter. 
 I hope I .'dmll have another before long. Do 
 you go to school this summer? If you do, I 
 hope you will have a go- 1 •■ — ' - be a gooti 
 boy, and will Icnrn t') ^: vrds. Has 
 
 your Uncle Levi got you; , Tie yet? If 
 ho has, I H\ippos<> you are almost ready to begin 
 to draw hay? lu tho part of country where I 
 am, we see things which you do not see in Shef- 
 field. Amongst other things are tho great 
 prairies. l)o you know what prairies are? I 
 will try to tell you. A praine is a very largo 
 parcel of land without any trees upon it, and in 
 aome places no treoa in sii^ht. It is nil level or 
 nearly so and wo can see a great way oil It 
 is covered with grais and llowors in summer, and 
 looks very handsomo. And th<>n (here are wild 
 bens running about i a great bird 
 
 which they call t; When it 
 
 stands up and strci' - .> .>- ;. v ;^ it is almost 
 as high as Uncle < tiRrlcs. I wish to write a 
 good many more loiters, an<l so will bid you 
 go<)d-by for the present, and hope you will be 
 Will and happy till I see you again. 
 From your father, 
 
 Mn. LiTTLB. 
 
 U' 
 
 pcur i:i 
 oullivtu 
 
 Murjr rt .1 
 'lliflti, I M 
 
 >iu IS toe gray tiair to man, niiU an 
 
 '• ri!d nco, how o!'i will .Mary ap- 
 
 s who have 
 
 I ten!' He 
 
 I r< Miiko. But I 
 
 . re»pccl to Clary's 
 
 Chicago, 24th Aug. 1849. 
 My I»kar <'habi,ik: Do you not think your 
 Cither lias been gorx" a lone, lonp timo, and do you 
 not waiit to have li ! 't.- 
 
 you, my dtar son. ; 
 
 limy ' ■' ■ - • ' ■ 
 
 it 
 
 V' .■-•■..■ 1 
 
 supposu imvo got your now wagon lioiio long bo- 
 fore this; and you have probably been to school 
 some, and I hope have been very well since 
 you had that bad spell of sickness last spring; 
 and I hope you have ei.j ' - " " 
 Yes, I hojio you have i 
 
 me it has been very u... ..... . . ..:i 
 
 mostly amongst strangers, a great way from 
 
 home, and lor a long time unable to get about at 
 
 all, and another long time had to walk with 
 
 crutches; and oh I how nfmn I thought of my 
 
 dear Charlie, ,i ' " - 
 
 ever slow ai,; 
 
 summer is nl 
 
 be here. In 
 
 about vtry co; .; 
 
 so heavily U(X)u lue. My booiiy htraiin haa been 
 
 good ever since I left home; so tli.nt, wiili sH my 
 
 trouble, I have great cause to 1 
 
 kind and good I'rovidonco w! 
 
 me. I wrote to you and your ; 
 
 of weeks ago, and have been ■ 
 
 this good while. I think I ..i 
 
 October, and perhaps the lore-port ot iho n.onih. 
 
 I hope you will bo well and happy till 1 sco you 
 
 again. What does your mother tlnd to do this 
 
 summer? Is she* pretty indu.slrious? I do not 
 
 suppose that you cun w " 
 
 tiona, but perhaps she iJi: 
 
 There seems also to bo n. 
 
 are not big enough yet to re.-id this . 
 
 answer it if you should wish to. Si 
 
 but you will have to be dei>endeut on ujultier 
 
 for both. H'-momber me to grnndpa, to mother, 
 
 Un ' , '. I'ameli:i, t: v. .r 
 
 CO ~a who wiH 
 
 if u.. .. '=•• a ji.-,.. i-._>. ...... any 
 
 you ha\ i your 
 
 .\ -. Mb. Litt!.k. 
 
 Master t.UAKu^u) iiii.sKT Little. 
 
 These are the communications from the hu»- 
 bond and father, addrctiseU to tuyaelf and child 
 
48 
 
 A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 during the first season of his absence from me 
 since our marriage. 
 
 He returned in October, and took us to the 
 farm he had put into the possession of the second 
 son, where our family consisted of himself, my- 
 self, Charlie, and 'Irish Mary," as Charlie termed 
 her. He was gloomy and silent, but not wrath- 
 ful. N'o accusations were made; no explana- 
 tions asked or given. He assisted me to go to 
 the situation I had obtained upon Long Island 
 on the first of May followiug. Two weeks after 
 I entered that field I addressed a letter to him 
 in Charlie's name, to which he replied as fol- 
 lows: 
 
 Sheffield, 25th May, 1850. 
 
 My Dear Chaklie: I received your letter of 
 the 13ih inst., a few days ago. I was very glad 
 to Itarn that you got safely to the end of jour 
 journey, and that you are quite well. You seem 
 to like your home very much, and I hope you 
 are very happy. But if you continue to eat five 
 times a day I do not know but you will grow so 
 large that I shall not know you, sure enough, 
 when I see you again. I saw Ellen and Charlie 
 Banholomew a few days ago, but I had not 
 then heard from you. They are very well, and 
 seemed to be glad to see me. The peach-trees 
 were all in lull blossom when I was there, but 
 the season is remarkably cold and wet and back- 
 ward. Few of the farmers are yet through jilant- 
 ing, and some have not yet commenced. Tt is 
 truly a discouraging time. I believe your cou- 
 sins are all in g- od health. Emily was here yes- 
 terday, or rather the day before, to get Elvira's 
 letter. She came at noon from school. I hope 
 you will be careful and not go too near the 
 water. The ocean is all about you there, and 
 there may be danger of getting into it if you be 
 not cautious. I hope to hear fiom you again be- 
 fore long, and hope you will not forget your luv- 
 ing father, R. Little. 
 
 Mr. Charles H. Little. 
 
 P. S. — Anna sends love to Charlie, and I think 
 many others would if they knew I were going to 
 write. 1 have not seen Uncle Lent and Julia 
 since I got your letter, but think I shall soon, 
 and will then do your love to them. 
 
 My husband went to Chicago for the summer. 
 I do not find in my po.ssession any letters 
 from him while there in the summer of 1850. I 
 still indulged the hope that the "malady " of his 
 mind w^s curable, and that opportunity was soon 
 to be afforded me of ministering under circum- 
 stances favorable to such a r^ult. 
 
 As I have mentioned, I ventured to suggest 
 that he should hire rooms in a house upon the 
 Plain, and asked a reply before my return to 
 Sheffield. He replied as follows : 
 
 Sheffield, Friday 15th, Nov. 1850. 
 
 Charlie and his Mother: I have only time 
 to write a few words. It will not be convenient 
 for me to comply with your request respecting a 
 certain house you mentioned. I hope you are 
 both well, and suppose you will be home before 
 long ; friends are well, so far as I know. In 
 haste. R. Little. 
 
 Tell Charlie, father would like well to see him. 
 
 The above did not arrive before I left Long 
 
 Island for Sheffield. I stopped at a brother's, as 
 I have stated, and Mr. Little CHllod and con- j 
 trocted for myself and boy to stay through the 
 winter. Avoided seeing me except in Ihe pres- 
 ence of others. Some time in December he 
 called; said he wished to communicate to me in 
 the presence of others ; that he desired to make 
 me the offer of seventy-two dollars a year for 
 my own support, and seventy-two for Charlie's, 
 which he said would pay one dollar a week for 
 the board of each, and Itave twenty dollars each 
 for other expenses annually". He told me that 
 he had given notice to the public not to trust me 
 on his account, and asked me if I would accept 
 his proposal. I told him I thought that as my 
 strength then was the amount wa=i too little. 
 He left, and a few days later the following was 
 brought me from his hand by the school-children. 
 
 JIrs. Little: Although it is painful hr me to 
 dwell upon this subject, it seems to be necessary 
 and proper that it should be pursued until an 
 arrangement shall be concluded. With regard 
 to the proposal I made to you, I know of no par- 
 ticular reason why it might not be continued, as 
 I gave you to understand. But if my trials 
 should crush me, in mind or body, it might be 
 interrupted, and there may be other unforeseen 
 events which might produce the same results. 
 In my present state I am not willing to entangle 
 myself with bonds of any kind, and I suppose 
 you would not expect it. 
 
 As respects dear Ch^irlie. I did iTot intend it as 
 any thing permanent, for the reason that increas- 
 ing years will necessarily bring increasing wants, 
 and I do not intend that he slrall suffer f >r want 
 of t-upply while I can supply him. And further- 
 more, after a suitable time, if I live, I shall 
 probably preft-r having him with me, than to 
 paying "for his board abroad. I suppose I can 
 have a place to stay with some one of my child- 
 ren while I remain upon the earth. 
 
 With regard to furniture, it is my wish that 
 you take away every thing that you brought 
 with you, and leave to me all our old furniture, 
 together with what has been manufactured in 
 the hou-e at my expense. Many of the old art- 
 icles are of little or no value ; and I thirk it 
 would be doing injustice to others to have the 
 best or most useful selected out. 
 
 Thus closes the epistolary address of R. Little 
 to his chosen and wedded self. I understood the 
 cau-cs of this depression, as I could not then as- 
 sist otbers to understand. Yet hope of a cure 
 did not forsake me. I looked upon this as a 
 crisis where amendment might begm. I penned 
 a repiy, in strong hope of helping him into a hap- 
 pier life. I would gladlj^ insert it here, but can 
 not eornmuud it ; neither can I recall it distinctly. 
 I know that I urged him to take whatever he 
 felt that he could, in justice to others, use for his 
 own his wife's and youngest child's support, and 
 hire the rooms I had mentioned, where I should 
 hope, by dispensing with visitors, to be able to do 
 wiihout hired help, and would accept twenty 
 dollyrs a year each, to cover other expanses than 
 board for Charlie and self; and would gladly do 
 all in my power to make his life comfortable and 
 happy. 
 
 lie called soon after, and said to me: "It 
 won't do for me to live with you. Such would 
 
A MOTH Kit's PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 41) 
 
 J>e TOtir intcrf»>t ii rifrrrr m^v^d n Tr?H-"r V yv>f, I lh«« y»n5n of ffolipn flint fl.o popnlnoo di'l nn» «n 
 tioD, Hint if I 
 alono. mv cl. 
 
 f]. ' ' 
 tl 
 
 Ih; ■ 
 
 I- 
 
 F' 
 
 7th .■:. ii.ic-r, i;."i \ : • 
 
 My h'.iltli will iTui. li rt'cluocd br these now 
 
 trinlH. Still 1 ' -^ > •Mvsoui m fltaid on 
 
 IJ...J fti„l k.].' 
 
 I ]<'.•[ ■. . nr one to opon n 
 
 b' -•• liir llie rreujiiiou of mys^'lf :ind 
 
 pdi. 1 ir p-^r wftk F r''>*»<1»xl V>'it !!»'!■< 
 
 food, bit 1 ; ' 
 
 opportuiiiiv t' 
 witi) t; 
 tor llio r 
 
 »t.(l W.l' , 
 
 <Mi the 1st ot April, Ihol, when my husband 
 mmo to me, kivmi/ \\y.\t \ cf>:!i nrit livo by my- 
 aolf upon thf ' I pro- 
 
 pocuUd ihnt tn me 
 
 111. 
 
 to : • 
 
 dib«t!i-lolj Ulitl Slrilc l,,ij{l,t bi- < AC litlfti ; ai li to 
 
 orUiT n ho»i1i» vvh^r<» n "«v>n<n rvntrir" hnd no 
 foothold. My" 
 Kistotxy in nl 
 kind, w I •'• 
 
 led to : ;o 
 
 payacf. -t 
 
 child nil ihtj end of tiiu quarter, aithoti^rh he had 
 given notice to thf> public not to trust ary otic to 
 his nci-f ■.. «. w<>ro wiUiont a dollar in 
 
 hand. \s-hi-.h I brouelit with mo on 
 
 peace, with a 
 
 Rrtidofl of fin 
 
 hundred dollaro or nicro. licforo lakiu^; py.- 
 
 ^CwioD of nir premattir- Iv widnwfd bon.e 1 nd- 
 
 tlr^- ■ • ■ * . "^ ■ '■ • 
 
 wna en 
 
 and iiie w iw iiux'ui.T 
 but we do kririrv that 
 
 u Miiui. A' i:.' ri IS iim an i :.' i i iji ;!;v iii.iviTW, 
 eilhiT in uiiud or in muttor, which baa nut ilit 
 catim-. 
 
 I wsM told during llila fin>t year <■' 
 tion that Mr. I ittlo said if uny eupi' 
 lifulty I tnsclf and m" ha.j un.-m it, 
 
 tliiv u ■ I was toi.l iliiit il,o-i. to 
 
 there. ■ 
 
 Soon afUr th<» p-rpint'on of th«» fifp» T«»nr of 
 my separate ' ^ •• 
 
 to me n.s a 
 
 rcmovtd. 1 had t» • ■ i 
 
 , so far as I knew my ». <> 
 
 witl,li..l.l H ri^bt or rcaM3nab!ft requi-t Ji.-m odg 
 
 of tb<» .•liililnn. 1 told liidfih I vi.-ui uillinj^ to 
 
 • ■ ' ' ' 1 do in 
 
 ' mo to 
 
 . ,_. ... .. i,.).- ; ■ r, and 
 
 that I thought It i > treat 
 
 for a provi-ion for n. He 
 
 replied: "1 believe pa io cru/.y. ' i said: "I 
 have lonir tliought your father insane upon the 
 subject of a provision for mtself and children, 
 but an loDcr an I ntand alone in tlio opinion it 
 
 • '■ Yet not V, ' - • • - ' lu 
 
 -perity, at ; 
 
 to my mu '. ■ r 
 
 who paw my ca- 
 I said ; " I" rrn i : 
 
 Ivr V. .ill u.\ t-r. ihren, 1 '. ^ 
 
 ia lif «t.'' Aftf-r afveral • 
 
 no reply ; a- 
 
 obliged to pur 
 
 becau*e I was unabio to it<» il. i wa.s iibie tin- 
 
 tir.<t or trin) yr^tr of mv now pxT>«^ei"^ t> do f.^r 
 
 Wbicil 111 
 
 h«. 
 
 tl. 
 
 t\. 
 
 K 
 
 ki:. : . 
 
 tho lifrti wmitr. luni lir t'uapman visited liiiii 
 twiop. ?f »>n<l bpf>n my fortune to r^rr'ivo fp.ni 
 y-' • . of rtve 
 
 'J' nc In- 
 
 Ul. -i .-. .-. . 1 ,■ , 
 and thus was I pr. 
 
 pay his physician. ' _ ■. . .;:. ^ ... 
 
 icr's allowance on tho Ist April, Inj',*, 1 p.n!(l up 
 my last bill for tho years expcn.sc!'. My Sfuil 
 was gre^itly rtfreshed throiitrh being where my 
 position could be accurately dctlnc^, although 
 
 il. This art <•! 
 . tnysclf purel/ t" : v. 
 
 i>i!nlt:ii ui>on mc— ' I'S and 
 
 taxes, as well n."* • . to the 
 
 time of rec«'ivipp tli. ul.iri w.lii to j»i.y my own 
 oblicTitioti". Hi'!»ide. there was one sidf of iho 
 
 fi. :<8 dug, aiM 1 
 
 b" ■'• ine. Bill i. 
 
 niat'.e. Af;. r laying wa.^ ovf-r, the ii< ii;li4A»ts' 
 cattle paaUux'd on the field without paying; and 
 
50 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 eveutuilly the fence timber was tHkea away, and 
 110 explanation given. I never asked auy ; for 
 1 6U[)i)o»e tUat men and larger boys undcrstnnd 
 tlieiBtelves. and I have no ide-a that it becomes 
 ine to calJ tiiem to account. They have a Ma.s- 
 ter who will n it neglect His duty. lie is allowed 
 to keep a Book, and in his own time he will un- 
 ioosQ the seals thereof. He is no re-'pfi:-.ter of 
 persons, but whosoever feareih him and worketh 
 righix'ousuess shall be accepted of him. All the 
 children of Adam go as--ray as soon as they be 
 born, speaking lies. They must be born again 
 before they will love and obey the truth. But 
 phrenologists will tell us that untruthfulness is 
 more largely developed in some than in others. 
 This fact or result has its cause. DouoLless, one 
 cause is found in the sharp business tact of mer- 
 chant fathers. I doubt not it was so in the case 
 of the sous of Jacob. When children who have 
 such an inheritance become motherless, the hu- 
 mane feel bound to believe all that they say, 
 without asking for proof, or considering their 
 temptation. Thus, instead of restraint, is cul- 
 ture ; instead of religion, perverted nature. 
 
 I thank God that with all my trials he has 
 given me to live, and teach my oflspring to love 
 the truth, and obey the truth, let it cost them 
 what it may. 
 
 There being an unoccupied academy opposite 
 my hired ro)ms, I was solicited to teaeli a tbw 
 pupils in thebuildiog, during the summer of 1S52, 
 the second year of my unexampled widowhoi'd. 
 To thi.i I the more readily assented, because I 
 chose to watch the etfect of my boy's application 
 to books kuovving that I better understood his 
 powers to endure mental eflort than a stranger 
 could. He was now seven years of age. His 
 natural mental activity, and his sicknesses affect- 
 ing the brain, had made it necessary that he 
 should be diverted from study, rather ihan urged 
 to it. He was greatly delighted with the idea of 
 being in school, and particularly with going to 
 unlock the door and riug the bell, a given time be- 
 fore the opening of each morning's ses.-ion. In a 
 few days I discovered that his health was v/aning, 
 and contrived as many ways as i could to tind 
 erraods or diversions for him away from school. 
 Having been one afternoon to the store, of an 
 errand, he came into my school one hour before 
 the time for closing, saying: "Mother, I am 
 sick." I took him upon my la[), and said: 
 "School will close in an hour." He sat a mo- 
 ment, and saiu : " Mother, I can't wait till school 
 is out, and I can't walk home. What shall I do ?" 
 I said: "I will write out the record now, and 
 go home with you." I began to repeat the names 
 of the pupils, when he laid his head upon my 
 shoulder, and said: "Oh! write the marks, but 
 don't talk." I bore him home in my arms, and 
 laid him upon the bed, when he desired me not 
 to move about the room, but to sing the little 
 songs 1 used to sing to him. This was early in 
 May. I looked from my open window, and see- 
 ing a neighbor, asked him to go for a physician. 
 The physician arrived in an hour or two. Charlie 
 was looking wildly across the room, and entreat- 
 ing me to send away the big boys, or moving his 
 arms vertically back and forth, and saying: 
 "Mother, why don't the bell ring?" Ho soon 
 commenced boring his pillow with his head, and 
 talking in a low and incoherent manner, while 
 ho noticed nothing that was said to him. None 
 
 who saw liini expected him to recover from that 
 illness. A porr.imi of calomel was administered 
 to him during the doctor's first visit, and after- 
 wards homeopathic doses of aconite aiid bella- 
 donoa As nothing seemed to soothe him so 
 much as to have some one continue squeezing a 
 clolii from a vessel of cold water, and with it 
 stroke his brow, this practice was continued al- 
 most without intermission for three days. Then 
 his low muttering erased, his fever left him, his 
 extremities became cold, and the purple beneath 
 his nails told that life's current was about to 
 cease its motion, when it occurred to me to im- 
 merse his hands in warm water. I did it, and 
 fiund that the purple was removed from btneath 
 his nails. I then had his feet placed in warm 
 water with the same results. But while attend- 
 ing to his feet, his hands resumed their former 
 appearance. I then caused them to be again 
 placed in warm water, and in the mean time 
 caused some potatoes to bo cut in slices of a half 
 inch thick and laid upon the top of the stove, 
 and turned till they were as warm as could be 
 borne by the flesh. Then as soon as the water 
 could be wiped from his hands, I caused these 
 slices to be bound inside the palms of his hands 
 and upon his wrists, and as soon as this was 
 done, his feet were served in the same way. I 
 then thought of some wine I had in the house, 
 and had just taken the bottle in hand when my 
 physician entered. I said to him : " Doctor, is 
 my boy about leaving me ?" He looked at his 
 half-opou and motionless eyes, and said : " His 
 eyes look very bad." I said: ''I was about to 
 give him some wine as you came in ; what do 
 you think of it V" He inquired : " Can he swal- 
 low?" I replied : "I v.^et his mouth a moment 
 ago, and he swallowed then." He said: "It 
 may be well to reduce it a good deal so that it 
 shall not strangle him, and try it." We did so, 
 and finding that he swallowed the dilution, the 
 doctor said he wished he might have a little weak 
 chicken-tea. I immediately set a vessel of water 
 over the fire, and went to a near neighbor and 
 asked her to let me have a chicken. She took 
 a handful of corn, stepped to her door and threw 
 it down before a brood of late chickens, which 
 she thus reared in the winter, and as they were 
 eating it, she stooped and caught one and wrung 
 its neck. I ran home, took a sharp knife and 
 severed a leg and a wing from the body, and 
 peeled off' the skin, and put the limbs into the 
 water, where they were boiled five minutes, and 
 in fifteen minutes from the time the chicken-tea 
 was spoken of, the doctor was feeding it to the 
 patient. In a few minutes the doctor said : 
 " His fever is coming back, and I am glad to see 
 it." From that hour he began to amend. In a 
 few days he was able to be carried into the 
 open air. He had, while recovering, seasons of 
 delirium, which he since distinctly recollects. 
 On one occasion he called very loudly for his 
 mother, and on my telling him that I was bis 
 mother, he expressed the utmost contempt. He 
 now recollects that he thought I was John Doten. 
 He at length became able to walk, and helped 
 himself out of doors one day, but on arising the 
 next morning, could not bear his weight upon 
 his lower limbs, though otherwise as well as the 
 day before. I had been conversant with a case 
 of chronic debility in the lower limbs, of a child 
 on recovering from disease upon the brain. I 
 
A MOTHEU'S TEACK OFFEKING. 
 
 51 
 
 wnM imprvinirxl with ttio impnrtmcw of rMrtorintr I heiofr Uie rMitornilon or itrenffth hv the journey. 
 
 cars, tfV'k I 
 
 iiioriiii. 
 
 L 1., u 
 
 |)ort. 
 
 Jnim PI 
 
 a slrai 
 
 HiiiKiii^'ioii, u Rtranf^r canio iiit<> the room and 
 
 irKlvi'i i •',' :it iiileil tlio boy, liaviiig noticod that 
 
 tl> IT took L'iin from tho elnf^ in Inn 
 
 :i i him liis case, and ho roinurkod it 
 
 V. • ■ - lie would rocovtr 
 
 ! I w.uKl |ilac« liiin 
 
 li; -• tn- Wo'llil put 
 
 i. wover, choco 
 
 i" 1 o<»t- After 
 
 urnui.h' iti i 'ii la Nuiibport, I found 
 
 niy-fll Mufti : ly, around and thn>Ui:li 
 
 tit hiiw, from my exertions in 
 
 from soreness. liie next mornin); afier our 
 urriviil, CliMrlio iilid from his bed. and exclaimed : 
 'Why, nintherl 1 can boar my weight." llo 
 founil tlioro a plavmuto, went out upon tho 
 gr ■ ■ ' ' ■ ",(1 1110 to HfO 
 
 li - to any thinf? 
 
 w.- , .. _ called (o me 
 
 to conio nnd .see that he could walk a few ^Icps 
 aloao. AVo nnlo on to tho Xet-k. where wo had 
 once epont a summer, and in a few day^ ho wa.s 
 so far rp«t/iri d that I returned to SlietBeld and 
 r- > ■'. But 00 a.skinp Charlie to 
 
 fr ihe boll, ho said: "Mother, I 
 
 do,. . .. • '■ --■ ■ -■ ■! ■ ■ ' ■ • 
 
 time 1 r 
 
 school ' 
 
 troubled IIH-, In Au^U-st, u cJind oJ liie family 
 
 occupying the first floor of our hon«o sickened 
 
 aad died of dy.m-utery. The next week I had a 
 
 very severe utiaok of the game oomphimt. Mv 
 
 hn- ■ ' •■ - -- - • ' ' ■■ ■- 
 
 h 
 
 h . : I:. 
 
 rd 
 ',o 
 
 . " ■ d 
 
 had th)' yrar proviouM i a 
 
 ftw days with hlin on I 
 
 ci'led to wild ('h;ir ■ k 
 
 with his father, if i ii 
 
 nut, to (f<> on ■ '\ 
 
 distrioi, aixl ' I 
 
 rtlurnwl, and . . .. . .^ ,..,.... .. ■ 
 
 rooms for the winter, liut before the cl<#c of 
 winter, I was obliged, on account of Charlie's 
 weak nerves, to difcnntinuo mj* school. I lived 
 one mile from church, ai d I'hiirll* van now un- 
 able to endure tie air ■ -•■, 
 and not williiij; to be U " y, 
 while I went out • • t 
 rooms oovild be i (:i 
 new building near ira 
 per year, I removed to liiat buiioing eariy in 
 March of 1853. On April !^r«'t. mr.:{, or at the 
 expiration of my «• whootl, I kad 
 piveu niy notes li : sevenl}' dol- 
 lars, b< side exp< : I well un- 
 den-toml that the ^ increaetd my 
 
 expoLfies had ari-. '..xcrtion, and 
 
 resolved to bo more wise lor pa.«l cxi>erience. 
 I attempted nothinf^ but to do for myself and 
 child, as our necessities re<iuired, and the third 
 year I paid all duos contrai^u-.l diirinp that year, 
 at its cloiw : thoce wh<' to 
 
 llio thus widowed and ig 
 
 , ,, ,.n .K,., r. ., .,..,...1 .,. 
 
 . ■ . ■ ■•-1 
 
 mu lo viMil liiem, i wa8 imiuuvd. near the close 
 of tho fourth year, which had b«'en ."pent much 
 as tho tliird, to appropriate the money used in 
 payine rents and tupplyine our table, lo pji\ing 
 
 nup<e, in tho pen-on of a yoimij woman, who, 
 the winter before, Ibok tho Huiail-iKix from rags 
 in the pap«T mill in our place, was employed to 
 take earo of mo, at a chanye of three dollars per 
 W' ' ■ log in tho houst? 
 
 b If. In two weeks 
 
 I : .1.1 .^... t 
 
 ]< 
 
 - ■ ■ '^'7 
 
 child to lieiroit, by way of Niagara iails and 
 Candida. ab<iut the middle of J.ti.uary, 1H55. 
 where I remained till tho latter part <>f A|>ril. I 
 then went t<i Gnind Kapid^. by w:iy of Kulama- 
 zoo; and the bitter part ' " ' " 
 
 Wild Wowls, or a now ' 1 
 
 since lilt; diiiv^- •>( my i>oy. Nolmug but tlie a|>- 
 plieat'ori of (Hild \v»ter gave relief. 
 
 • A my ri-oovery soliritod 
 t" i.. I., to teach, or to .K«iid 
 
 V. 1 
 
 g" - ■ :r 
 
 the c<>iminer in oiiotheid. 1 Uierorore went on to 
 open tho school, and intrcHluoo Mim Holmes lo it 
 on her arrival, and to explain to her my own 
 method pursued in the school ; my main ohject 
 
 wife (ouo yo*r tuurrioi) died bvo we«kd iwfuro 
 our arrival. 
 
 This was an en ' -If and 
 
 son, inasmuch ».- . a.M ao 
 
 othorsi of tho • 111' .-^i I. .li.ifpoint 
 
 in tho hist' : ! our own divided 
 
 houwhol'i. : vhib' on l.ii l.u.ti- 
 
 msv* stay in tJiiaago in Charlies name, .'jpeakin^ 
 of tho novel ftcenos around u.% and of our intorcrt 
 in llu'in; mv««'lf iiuiulging Uic secret liopo that 
 ho might be induced to return to Massachusetts 
 
52 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 i-hrough that part of Michigan and give us a call, 
 and, perhaps, coQclude to take up there a humble 
 home in which to spend his winters with us, so 
 long as his business required his presence at Chi- 
 cago through the summer. 1 did not presume to 
 ask him to do this, because I had, when we were 
 all in Sheffield, invited him, verbally and by note, 
 to dwell with us, to wiiieh he had made no reply. 
 He only called to make quarterly payments, and 
 on town-meeting days, or to bid a good-by to 
 Charlie when about to go West. He said but 
 little. His fate seemed inexplicable to himself. 
 His countenance and tone seemed a prayer for 
 relief which his soul disdained to utter. He at 
 one time told me that he was generally able to 
 keep his countenance in the presence of others, 
 but when at work alone, weeping was his relief, 
 and he believed he had shed barrels of tears. I 
 thought, when in Michigan, that if he would see 
 lit to join us so far from his "Conservator,"' he 
 might, like the subject of an absent psychologist, 
 have power to judge for himself, and act for his 
 own personal benetit. But the true workmgs of 
 his mind were to be developed in a way that I 
 could not mark out. I find in my possession but 
 one letter of his after his open desertion, in 1851, 
 till autumn of 1855. It is as follows: 
 
 Chicago, 22d May, 1852. 
 
 Dear Charlie: I have learned by Anna's 
 letters how very sick you have been. I longed 
 to be with you and give you comfrt, but I was 
 far aw^ay and could do nothing to give you relief 
 I have heard of your getting better from time to 
 time, and now learn that you are in a fair way 
 of getting well, which is a great relief to me, as 
 I felt very anxious about you until I knew you 
 was better. I hope you will be protected from a 
 return of your disease, and be quite well soon. 
 
 This is from your aflectionate father, 
 
 Ralph Little. 
 
 I will here mention that this was the year 
 when my expenses were so much beyond my 
 income, by reason of sickness, and that when 
 my husband made the quarterly payment, Oc- 
 tober first, of that year, he told me he had 
 paid the girl who took care of me when sick, 
 and abated the amount. I was afterward pained 
 to learu that lie canceled it by turning it to pay 
 a demand which he held against her father, a 
 poor man. Also when he paid the next quar- 
 ter's allowance he abated a dollar for Charlie's 
 board Thanksgiving week, while I was gone to 
 the Massachusetts Teacliers' Association. He 
 a'so spoke of abating a dollar a week for Char- 
 lie's board with him during ray sickness; but I 
 ventured to beg, and with success, that he would 
 do so much, as a neighbor, toward bearing ihe 
 burden of our sickness, inasmuch as there were 
 tho^e who would have done it, in additian to 
 tiieir other gratuitous assistance. I mention 
 this to show that the unnatural state of his mind 
 about defraying expenses for sickness on one 
 side of his house was not removed. The next 
 date of his is addressed to my brother, in De- 
 troit, and is near the close of his own life. 
 
 Sheffield, 7 th November, 1855. 
 Dear Sir : I yesttrday received a line from 
 Jane, requesting me to send to you the sum I 
 was to pay first October. I shotdd have sent it 
 
 sooner, but had no directions. I hero inclose 
 eighteen dollars, which is intended for Charlie's 
 expenses. I suppose you have an understanding 
 with her, and wdl know what to do with it. 
 Intend to have it registered at the office, and 
 hope it may arrive safely. 
 
 Respectfully yours, Ralph Little. 
 
 Mr. James A. Rots. 
 
 Hope you will be good enough to forward the 
 within few lines to Charlie in some way. 
 
 R. Little. 
 
 Sheffield, "Tth Nov. 1855. 
 
 Dear CiiARLiE : Your last letter to me was a 
 long time on the way. I should probably have 
 answered it sooner but did not well know where 
 to direct. It has been rumored that you had 
 gone to Iowa. I am glad to learn that you arc 
 well, and hope you are spending your time hap- 
 pily in that new part of the country. Have you 
 been to school, so as to learn to write yet ? I 
 hope you take lessons occasionally, if you do not 
 go to school. I should be very glad to have an- 
 other letter from you soon, if convenient. It 
 seems a long time since I have seen you. We 
 have never been apart so long before. But I 
 trust you have not forgotten your fiitlier. It is 
 not convenient for me to write more now. Hope 
 you will be gratified with even this short letter, 
 and say it is better than none at all. 
 
 Your affectionate father, R. Little. 
 
 Master Charles Henry Little. 
 
 The next date is the latest, and to me bears 
 the impress of a finishing-stroke of a mind deep, 
 and strong, and calmly mad. 
 
 Sheffield, Dec. 24th, 1855. 
 
 Dear Sir: It is the request of your sister 
 Jane that, what money I send West for her use, 
 should be inclosed directly to you. I here in • 
 close eighteen do lars for the first of January, 
 1856. It is for Charlie's expenses. It is pro- 
 bable that I shall not send any more until I 
 learn something about Charlie, and how lie 'n 
 getting on. I have much anxiety on his ac- 
 count; I fear his precious lime is being spent 
 without that improvement which he ought now 
 to be making, and which is so essential to his 
 future well-being. I am much at a h'ss what 
 course it is proper to adopt with regard to him. 
 I have thought that if you were willing to tako 
 him and bring him up in your business, (in case 
 he would be contented to stay with you,) that 
 that might be as well as any course that I could 
 adopt for him. I should expect still to help him 
 on until he should be able to earn his own living. 
 I hope you will consider the subject, and give 
 me your views as soon as convenient. Do not 
 think me hasty ; I have had the subject in con- 
 templation for a long time. While my health 
 and strength shall be spared, I shall expect to 
 be back and forth through your region every 
 season, and shall always call and see him. 
 
 Yours respectfully, R. Little. 
 
 Mr. Jas. a. Roys. 
 
 Please forward the inclosed to Charlie, wher- 
 ever he may be, if you know. If not, retain it 
 till you ascertain. It contains a dollar. R, L. 
 
A MOTlIEU'a I'KACK OKFEKINO. 
 
 53 
 
 C;uirrrti'i r. • ttli It, .- 
 PEXn ClIARUR 
 Thai dar, lo Im m. 
 
 yuu git itiifl, but Hlill 1 vki^ii \"U u M<^r. 
 riin«. Mfp'- yon nr»» w«'ll mihI happy 
 K" ■ ■ 
 
 1 s.'. 
 
 '• 
 
 Hut 
 
 ilio first < 
 <• that it 
 
 '. rn >\ V.f '.V 
 
 l.iv 
 
 
 
 
 . ( i. 
 
 i.,t- 
 
 lucr I. 
 
 
 
 Di.l 
 
 v<iu 
 
 n nihil 
 
 
 
 uilii a bad <iii<l, but itiii tiniiv 
 J hi ri' iiicl«>S'' oiio dolliir for a .'. 
 
 From yciiir ftllo<ii"iiatt< fitl.tr, K 
 UOAtvr CllAKL>-S ilLNKY Lini.K. 
 
 LlUIE. 
 
 Wo will now look after tho manner in which 
 liirlii'd time wi>R Wmg Rpeiit. uftt-r leaving 
 tihi-fllvld, nearly i«ho year biforo thia date. 
 Shortly U-furo wo lcl\ Mr. I.iltle cnmo U> my 
 brotliot'ii, whoru wo were making nacly lor our 
 journi'v, and led rhnrlio by the hand to his 
 
 ilic |>iiM 
 
 11 the comimniooBbip of a Hiiif-itivo, 
 
 11' ■ - . 
 
 i bad taken wilh mo pik) 
 wiflhod him to ••t'vly, Vnt k' 
 bado t ]. 
 in mak 
 lluwerH 
 mo in 
 
 1, 
 
 r I a felvd. 1 aduituustcrcd iluOu-a- 
 
 I 'rnrnif^. aconite Bud hi-Uadonno, 
 u ved that 1 pct out upon 
 
 II Uiit the motion of the 
 . lat lip was unable to eit 
 
 Alter stoi'pinjf in De- 
 tr . -.seemed bctt'. r; but a 
 
 regular iitaii iclii- again returned with a good 
 deal offtverislnus*. I consulted a Ilomcopaihic 
 physician, who only pnsiTibcd the same r*.me<lie9 
 I Wiis iid:iiiiii>-trniiL'. hut advised me to repeat 
 <! ■ ■ ' . - ,' •' ' ' ' lT. 
 
 i: 'I air; so that his 
 
 <; •<> ask him not to 
 
 coiiie 1 h, for a time 
 
 aftor I , w^>« to hi" 
 
 learned the d 
 
 himself wit , '<■ 
 
 country, neur orand liapids, ami during tho 
 m'>nth of May, commai.dol tlio admiration nf 
 I (he fimiiios who extended lo 
 
 ' v, ))y his wonderful exploits 
 
 ]uu,.-^ '.i ui.d w.l'c, r<><.Mv' a hr.tUs t^'k up iLu.r 
 nhmh- in nit tinbroken wildcnions, riiariid wn.M 
 
 toes for tlie ; 
 spent in nii 
 bu-iiM'!»s of packui^ 
 p< r ihouwnd. Hi.« • 
 for him, that ho i 
 when tho plantin 
 
 cviicviiiuig till- iulurii Uiic dity <u> I was B.ll.ng, 
 wilh no one else pr<^«»>nt, In' ««!<!: "Mother, 
 what (ihall 1 do vs' ' ' ' : 
 
 " I'hdrlio, wo nu;>' , 
 
 when a child, had - . . 
 
 th( r liMH died, and I 1 ■■" 
 
 " Well," Mid ho, bur!»tii , .d 
 
 brothers and sisters ; but my broihera and slitters 
 don't care any thing about me." T *"«id : " You 
 have the comfort of knowing it is i. -f 
 
 any wrong you have done thoin. T 
 
 love to you nri.scfl prol ' ' g 
 
 to have you share in • ." 
 
 "f don't cafi' ."iv il, i • .. , >- 
 
 perty," said ! " 1 want o 
 
 love me." i ^ing of hi- d 
 
 .amiling throu>;h hid loars, he a'Jd<d: ' Tl.ire'a 
 Ktlon and Carrie, and (loorpo and Kddie — llicy 
 • ■ .•• I will ' ' • !- 
 
 irlio, with " 
 
 r^, , .....r of HW.,. ... .... 
 
 after our return to Shcflicld. 
 
 Sn«rriKt.D, Doc. isio. 
 
 PrAR rm.R FR«NK : I think thnt Ti<>no of 
 
 of tho ('-iftiirt, tlmn liiy^' lli I ani in- 
 to leal uncles at i .n- •- •" r t ■ ■ \. r of 
 on earth And ;' r 
 .1 rs T rr-Tipv n" ) '1 
 by the '. 
 and o. ' 
 
 .oiiih^'li.s ill a L«rUiin rate 
 n.|n aharponod a lijrht »x" 
 
 htal K'bniarv. iiiil 1 ia.ist uil yuu 1 
 Uno'o who i« holinntr In " i»«>t Mi.-l i 
 
 1 
 
 My 
 
 t 
 
 !..<ve uiie 
 •ai) out of 
 
 d for the day 
 
54. 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 house or auy other public building, I can assure 
 you that communications through the post-office, 
 from uncles, aunts, or cousins, adopted or real, 
 were never so acceptable at any other time or 
 place. And now, Uncle Frank, I wish to ask 
 one thing of you in a whisper. Please don't 
 scold, for I do so dread being scolded. It is this : 
 If I furnish a new subscriber for the Cabinet, 
 will you send a copy of the forthcoming volume 
 to some very nice little girls whose acquaintance 
 I made in the new settlement, and who loved 
 dearly to read my Cabinet wlien I was there ? I 
 know very well that this does not come within 
 the limits of your premiums. It is only a pro- 
 position of mine that you and I together make a 
 donation visit, where so many privations are 
 necessarily felt. Perhaps we may, at some fu- 
 ture day, meet there, as it is only about twenty 
 miles north from the rapidly rising city of Grand 
 Rapids, and on the line of a contemplated railroad. 
 If you say, no, please admit, if you can, there 
 was no harm in asking; and if you siy, yes, 
 please direct to Reuben Jewell, Esq., Lapham- 
 ville. Kent County, Mich. At all events, send 
 the Cabinet to my Aunt Angle, wlio has decided 
 to take it for the benefit of her pupils, and has 
 authorized me to order it for her. Slie will for- 
 ward the pay. Address. Miss Angle Roys, 
 Rhinebeck, Dutchess Co., N. Y. 
 
 Your aJiectionate nephew, 
 
 C. H. Little. 
 
 Uncle Prank responded in his Cabinet of March, 
 1857, as follows: 
 
 Charles H. Little : You'll make your way 
 through the world. I'm sure of that. What a 
 persevering Yankee ! I couldn't resist your ap- 
 peal touchmg the subscriber out West. The 
 Cabinet is to be sent as you desire. 
 
 The only domestic animals we were able to 
 keep in the forest home, were a yoke of oxen, 
 named Buck and Bright, one of which had a 
 horn knocked off while roamiug in the wide pas- 
 ture. Charlie had heard his uncle tell of riding 
 on horseback in the company of Colonel Fre- 
 mont while in Cfthfornia. After the last Presi- 
 dential election, Charlie wrote his uncle on his 
 own responsibility, and making his own infer- 
 ences, he said : " How does Buck's horn get 
 along ? You will have to change his name now, 
 as you are a Black Republican, that is, a Fre- 
 mont man." His uncle, m reply, says: " As for 
 a Black Republican, I never wss one except 
 while burning logs. A Fremont man, never." 
 To show how my way was prepared in Provi- 
 dence for that summer's residence, I will copy 
 some papers, the date and authorship of which 
 must tell without mstake : 
 
 North of Algoma, May 4th, 18.5.5. 
 
 My Dear Sister Jane : I received yours of 
 the 28ih April on the first instant, and now, seal- 
 ed in my forest home, nearly a mile from any 
 human being, surrounded by so luxuriant a 
 growth of timber that the woojs are inaccessible 
 cf a night, 1 will try to reply. 
 
 It is certainly an alleviation of sorrow to know 
 that there are those .vho truly sympathize with 
 us in afifiictioD, and I thank you from my heart 
 for the expressions of interest which your letter 
 
 contained. Would that such sympathy could re- 
 store to me what I have lost. Wtiat / have los', 
 did I say ? What the world has lost in the de- 
 parture from its precincts of superior talent, un- 
 pretending exctllence, and unbiased Christianity, 
 such as departed this life with Mary E Roys, 
 But she can no more be recalled. We can only 
 lament that one so young, so formed by nature 
 to receive and import happiness, can dvfell no 
 more among us. But I feel that such lamenta- 
 lion is a seldshness in ourselves ; for who would 
 recall one well beloved from beyond the "dim 
 valley of death," to share a lot in a world hke 
 this, where all is vanity and vexation of spirit ? 
 As you truly observe, the period since we parted 
 has been to me one of li:e-experieLce. It has 
 been full of the depths of joy and grief, but no 
 one but myself can ever appreciate either. Ear- 
 ly in the year of my married life, almot't before I 
 had learned all the superior mental qualities of 
 my Lizzie, qualities which, when knovs-n, caused 
 the deep love I before felt to border on idolatry, 
 I thought I discovered almost certain symptoms 
 of consumption. I can not go on in detail. 
 You, I believe, are one of the few who know 
 something of my nature. Imagine what must 
 have been my life for almost a year, when I 
 knew, (or at least reason told me,) that I must 
 soon lose her in whom I had centered all my 
 afi'ections — when I heard her planning, in tonea 
 so faint with weakness as to be audible only to 
 the ears of love, long year.s, ay, almost ages of 
 prosperity and health, and knew that in a few 
 i-hort days, (alas! how fewl) the would need no 
 more earth plannings. You offer to eome and 
 assist me in housekeeping. How gladly would 
 I see you installed as mistre.=s of ceremonies ia 
 my lonely domicill 
 
 But I fear that you would not be content to 
 stay here in the woods long. My society is the 
 birds, and my neighbors (that is, near neighbors) 
 are the wolves. But come and pay me a vi-it, 
 and judge for yourself My mother-in-law 
 thought, when she left me after Lizzie's death, 
 that I could not hve here after the loss of my 
 wife. But I thought I could live no where else. 
 I sometimes think that, for my years, I haye had 
 too much woi Id-experience. When very young I 
 was aUowed to have my own way, because I 
 would not take any ether, and now, at the age 
 of thirty, I can look b^ck over a long and dreary 
 life. Nothing that I loved was ever long near 
 me. I was but a boy when mother died. My 
 school friends never remained more than a term 
 in the same school. Soon after I was of age I 
 left all. Since then I have been a wanderer. I 
 saluted the Emperor of Brazil, made my obei- 
 sance to the President of Chili, and touched my 
 hat to the Queen of the Hawaiian Empire, helped 
 to take fiom Mexico her richest province, dug 
 gold in California, and walked through the halls 
 of the Montezumas, nearly died in the city of 
 The True Cross, (Yera Cruz,) was nearly a bach- 
 elor, was married, and am now a widower, aged 
 thirty. Truly 
 
 " Kingdoms and nations in my little day 
 I have outlived, and yet I am not old — 
 
 But I would still survive, 
 If but to see what next can well arrive." 
 
 Yours truly. 
 
 John E. Rots. 
 
A mothkk's pkace offehino. 
 
 bi> 
 
 I w. ■ • • 
 for Hi; 
 that r< 
 HO limiu-ii, 1 
 
 (lllt'f^ Vfr-rf 
 
 tr. 
 
 I ttinl my ri-H'ur«.vi* miJ 
 ! lo mv •tr^t't'O) The 
 
 Of - 
 
 iiio ihat niio hrartl her priy»>ici«ii H-iy ttj»t Hhe 
 wan t'lo beauiifiil to din. ArH :i<( rnv JnY'rVor 
 woul'l dwdl upon luT • . tl), 
 
 " Ili>%v I,i/y,io would I. a M 
 
 V.'' ' ' ' will (if 
 
 V huinnn 
 
 >••; it,y 
 ■ -< 
 
 heart would • 
 penned by i 
 uf hia nativity. 
 
 -T- • ■ 
 
 11. d reoftll 
 befuru hi' ■•• 
 
 1 will transcribe ihc^ui here ; 
 
 ■ rj, kod want. 
 
 Iff 
 the bllM 
 
 ■•n *•<• sf rnlled 
 
 Aw . 
 
 Anl 
 
 Plnk.H J') lui 
 
 fiho. 
 Wl, 
 II - V 
 
 Wit' 
 An.t 
 
 Hnl 
 Thcr 
 Ad.I 
 Hal 
 Now 
 A* I'- 
 ll V 
 A II - 
 
 »'n(r, 
 
 •«hl. 
 
 hcartii 
 -l-.kc 
 
 ThT 
 An.l 
 Fnr 1 
 But 
 
 A rr 
 
 Fro! 
 Up. 
 Tog.. 
 
 ,1. 
 f'T woe. 
 
 tTc an end. 
 
 • '■■'1 coaich, 
 •e ; 
 ■< .it at work, 
 
 iced 
 
 T.. 
 
 Uc) 
 
 An. I ■ 
 
 All ; 
 
 HI. 
 
 Tb. > 
 
 That I MouiJ >v; 
 
 Alajt Idlf.aiiU 
 
 I he toal 
 
 4 
 
 llie dreiU, 
 
 I 
 live? 
 
 " I taw a (low and wilcmn funeral train 
 
 Appr.'r.. fi III.' \ . I...-.- . l.'.r. 1,^ ,,r.l .- :• mlv 
 
 TIk'v 
 
 11 « 
 
 I tl. • .unci. 
 
 Kail t 
 
 1 Hi 
 On I) . tini 
 
 " ConsuniplJon'ii latest victim" wjomed, a* 
 
 clothe the d- ^.s of gtiii his heart waa 
 
 destined to V . r ycnr«. At the t-rro 
 
 this brother enlisted in i v^ 
 ihoHo who unden«tood tl 
 j...'tin'iii. thai il 1 ' 
 
 ^■' '< -^ ttTtn expir 'i 
 
 :i ti.r .;■■• tr;., ■, , r 
 Navy t 
 
 wrot" H ■ ' . 
 This frifinl liiww a f>i*,lti.>ii, iu wliicli, to Bh<>w 
 
 the uniiaturfil atal© of hi'' in'm<\ when he hfl 
 
 home, he quoted from n •?r addressed 
 
 to bim»elf when about !• n : 
 
 " I iirek, 'mid more congeuial b«<.u6ii of utri?.-. 
 To slian ttie Influence of my natal star." 
 
 ■II, havinfr 
 ;i of our <• 
 
 1 by the latter to the 
 
 w oH, M.G . \v 
 J-kcretary of I ... . 
 The following correspondccice resulted : 
 
 3d, ]>>10. 
 
 on the Pa- 
 1 . ,\i (••• wilJt your re- 
 nth ulL, for the dis* 
 
 Pir: The I 
 citic station 
 quest of the 
 charjre of Jt 1... ... .. .-. 
 
 I am very rcsptotUillv. vom 
 ■\Vm. Uv 
 
 Hon. Ji;liu8 Rooewrll,, Pitl^i-iJ, Umos. 
 
 Mrs. RAtPH Lim 
 
 Mat>am: I - 
 which I hav 
 
 the N":»'. V :• 
 
 thAt I nv.'U ikc u < 
 tion of tho kind 
 
 ev •' ■ ' ' 
 
 to. . .. 
 
 ^th, 1849. 
 
 was am . 
 
A MOTHERS PKACK OFPT,HING. 
 
 igencies of the service on the Pacific station are 
 known lo be quite imperative at the preseut 
 lime. You have done every thing which affec- 
 tion for your brother, and regard for his wishes 
 and feelings, could prompt you to do; and have 
 done all in ihe best possible manner. I think 
 you must now leave the matter in the hands of 
 an overruling Providence. 
 
 With much respect, your friend find obedient 
 servant, Julius Roi:kwell. 
 
 SiiKFFiEi.u, July I2th, 181!). 
 Hon. J. Rockwell. Pitttlield, Mass. : 
 
 Sm: Receive the thanks of my family and 
 self, for your kind efforts in behalf of my brother. 
 May heaven generously shower her choicest 
 blessings upon yourself and those dear unto you, 
 for this act, indicating the principle of expansive 
 benevolence within your soul. I calmly acqui- 
 esce in the dispensations of Providence, hoping 
 yet to see what [ now believe, that all is wisely 
 ordered. 
 
 Mine lias been the pain of following in fancy, 
 both in my waking and sleeping moments, that 
 brother, afflicted vvilli privation, and oppressed 
 v.'iiii wounded s risibilities, as he has journeyed 
 and dwelt amid the perils of the deep or greater 
 perils of war : a voluntary exile from his Berk- 
 shire home and Uerkshire friends ; contemning 
 tli8 selfishness of those who sacrifice at the altars 
 of wealth or pleasure, yet seeming likely to be- 
 come the victim of au undue devotion at the 
 shrine of knowledge. 
 
 Mine shall be tlie pleasure of telling him that 
 Berkshire's wisest heads and noblest hearts have 
 been engaged in his behalf; have done all in 
 their power to procure for him the favor he de- 
 sired. And this, as a cordial, 
 
 " SUall inspirit and serene "' 
 
 his heart when again subjected to the trial o' 
 crushed hopes, and pcrliaps cause the bless- 
 ing of him that was ready to perish to return 
 upon his benefactors. 
 
 Upon me, as an elder sister rest the care and 
 solicitude once felt by an nft'ectionate mother, 
 but which ceased with her heart's last pulse, ere 
 this son, upon whose brow her faith had caused 
 to be placed the seal of the everlasting covenant, 
 committed his destiny to the foaming billows. 
 I know that if he shall survive these adverse 
 scenes, the school in which he has been placed 
 will have imparted unto him lessons of wisdom, 
 and given an energy to his character indispensa- 
 ble to true greatness. May he yet return to 
 bless what he left with the curse of a too gene- 
 rous heart, and reward his benefactors by himself 
 becoming a benefactor in his turn. 
 
 Nature had endowed him with generosity 
 above his fellows ; and in doing as he would be 
 done unto, and judging others by self, he com- 
 mitted errors that brought upon him those "dark 
 ills" which he attributed to "Fate." May ex- 
 perience correct these errors of his, and he yet be 
 made to feel that fortune smiles. 
 
 With high re?peet and unfeigned gratitude, I 
 am your humble servant, L. J. Little. 
 
 I will here copy a separate petition which I 
 felt compelled to address to the head uf the Navy 
 Department, and which was among the papers 
 alluded to by Mr. Rockwell. 
 
 SHEFFifiLD, Mass., June 23d, 1849. 
 To the Secretary of the U. S. Navy : 
 
 Honored Sir: My brotht-r JoLn was born at 
 Sheffield, Mass., August, 1825. He belonged to 
 a numerous and respected family, who were con- 
 fined to the humble walks of life. Nature had 
 endowed him with a superior genius and an 
 aspiring heart. Ho early resolved on an educa- 
 tion, though possessed of no pecuniary resources 
 save his own hands and time. He long pursued 
 his object with high hopes, and made praisewor- 
 thy progress His talent and character gavo 
 promise of good. But from pecuniary embarrass- 
 ments, and luck of sympathy in those whom ho 
 loved, (and who loved him with the same 
 strength of affection, but, from lack of similar ex- 
 perience, weie totally unqualified to put forth a 
 sympathy adapted to his case,) his path became 
 dubious or bio ked with insurmountable difficul- 
 ties. He suddenly resolved on quitting hi.=j 
 course, and plunging into the wilderness of the 
 world, without a guide or fixed purpose, where 
 he believed some path would eveutnally open 
 bef )re him, in wliich to see his way more clearly. 
 He left his fi lends without communicating to 
 them his change of purpose, except by a letter 
 dropped into the post-f>fSce at liis departure. 
 He enlisted in his country's service, and sailed 
 for the coast of Mexico, aboard the U. S. 
 razee, Independence, nearly three years (-ince. 
 That vessel is lately upon our coasts; several 
 letters have been forwarded to his address, and 
 his friends have waited a reply with intense 
 anxiety until yesterday, when a letter was re- 
 ceived from his hand, under date of May, 1849, 
 mailed at San Francisco. Heisaboatd the U. b. 
 ship Warren; says there is at Monterey a school - 
 house in good condition, vacated in consequence 
 of the teacher's le.iving for the gold regions; that 
 several persons who have btcome acquainted 
 with his qualifications, are desirous of olDtaiuing 
 his services as teacher; that it is impossible for 
 him to obtain a discbarge there; tljat he feels 
 himself in a state of abject misery through being 
 confined from a sphere in which he considers 
 himself endowed to move, and that he desires his 
 friends to ask for him a discharge from his pre- 
 sent service. I am aware, sir, that it is not 
 ivomcm's province to counsel in matters pertain- 
 ing to her country's government. But ivoman 
 may pro/y, not only to the Lord of tlio universe, 
 but to the lords of this lower world, in behalf of 
 those whose interests are dear unto herself. /, 
 therefore, prefer my praj'er to those empowered 
 to decide my brother's destiny, with reverence 
 and submission, that he may be released from. 
 those fetters in which fate seemed to have bound 
 him, and be permitted to enter the path now 
 open to his view, in which he may hope to real- 
 ize liis laudable desires in the pursuit of his 
 favorite object. 
 
 With deference and respect, lam your humble 
 servant, L. J. Little, 
 
 Wife of Ralph Little. 
 
 In behalf of my brother John E. Roys, ma- 
 rine on board U. S. ship Warren, coast of 
 California. 
 
 Accident has placed in my hands a sci'ap-book 
 of my brother's, from which I will copy some of 
 his lines, written during the year of the corre- 
 spondence above : 
 
A MoTHEUJi TKACE OFFKlilNG. 
 
 67 
 
 TO O. O. Cl'«Tl«l. IM*. 
 
 OartiM I nn«1 know* Vre ronnol rnouirli 
 
 Thrn.,,-li .,'.■. .Iirl. 1.,!),, .1. Willi »liJ rouifh; 
 
 .1 prink., 
 I Uisuki.) 
 
 Lonir n'«hu. w!i»n on lh« ^nUln^f «c», 
 
 )iop« that they 
 •c«y. 
 
 And wh»B on Mr»lc»n»'« pliiln. 
 
 W„ .!. . ,1 I.. i,.'i.:i, A I ..l.-ii riiin. 
 W 
 
 iiitnic t«lng won, 
 
 1 ■■.lirv «uii. 
 
 •. M\>\ '/"". 
 
 .rmt ab««nt frltoJ, 
 . it 111 cnil, 
 
 to fpend 
 
 . w t?i r«n>. 
 
 Tiia ti.'ikx. 1549. 
 
 1 w»- 
 I • 
 
 iiiy 
 
 •• Tn ilwvll wh^ro my klndrrd rnclrcic mr rc'Un'l , 
 
 <^, ,. • - . . . .'. . 1'. . I .,.1 I.. I— r.. 1411(1; 
 
 \s ■ •. 
 
 Or "•• 
 
 ;v lan'l ; 
 
 I liand; 
 -py 
 
 lood 
 
 ful wood, 
 ' rai« ann*, 
 : nboDC, 
 
 \ j 'fvatd U> 
 
 Tli« thought* Uiat to mortkls I would not rereal. 
 
 w 1 ■my te«L 
 
 ■ I repeal. 
 
 • \\ ;..L, i-i'rLil.U pain?' 
 
 r.ply : 
 
 <lcr atone, 
 •trown, 
 tin* and (trcain* 
 
 • I I, ir ... •..• 
 
 Bo lung aa (lie i 
 
 >4, 
 
 ■ Yon ar •> rirh'." "he obMrrcd : " 8««k yoof country •&« 
 
 \Vl, 
 Ar. 
 
 f ■ ■ in it OowT". 
 iriT Ji in fancy** in' 
 
 St, 
 ire. 
 
 vain 
 
 inavcrrit : •• Tbcrr'* rra-on io lhl«. 
 
 -ned what it pain— icU me now, what U 
 
 I rcplkd. "th»t It easily told." 
 I of my feeling now rendered me bold. 
 
 TO OCOKOB WAKBO. i^f*. 
 fihii.. •.!.■ .1. V • V. .r-. f v '1 I 
 
 II Mher; 
 
 All''. 
 
 1 1 „ 
 
 Althoufh our barkK o'er llfe'i roogfa ae* 
 
 It.. 1. ,-•■ .1 1 V n, -f r; I ■ '• l"ile, 
 
 * ••' ' .1 
 
 >i -aX 
 
 For I 
 
 o: 
 
 Aii.i :.i . 
 
 To you, mu iuiiK a» iwtuu^rjf l-*t. 
 
 And 
 
 A 
 'T» 
 
 T 
 
 III. 
 
 .!,..iil<l meet, 
 'ca. 
 
 TBX SAMK. 
 
 w at!.- r-- r.-!r! 
 
 1 
 
 To walk In cold ted drw at night. 
 
 Call". « HIT llmlw and bonei to ache fiut ; 
 And then without an appetite 
 
 To rise at Are o'clock to hreakfaat. 
 
 know It ;) 
 .|o. 
 I to do it 
 
 •ne, 
 
 TT>' • 
 
 , 1 
 \\> 
 
 Ana; Li it tj.k'_- a!-' 
 
 We W'tV n'l .!,-M, :i!..l 
 
 I. 
 I .! 
 
 I'. 
 
 I wUti, In York, at <io*lin(f'« Ubie. 
 
 V : -it !■■ . .1 -■ • • iiiioklng niuffln*, 
 ■.■.II, able, 
 '••, Joaey Dofflna. 
 
 WILL T"r oo y^ Tn* oo»J»-Wllt»». IMC 
 
 Wni you (to t 
 
 A« t»ir •.-:p- 
 \V ■. 
 
 'I arU«. 
 
 . nar, 
 
 r'f^aln, 
 
 ratar 
 
 • <puro. 
 
58 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 Shall we go to the gold-mines ? What say you, my friends ? 
 We are ready to use our best means for best ends. 
 Shall we go to the mines? It is vain to conceal 
 The heart-burning longing for gold that we feel. 
 It only remains to decide which is best, 
 Our own honor, or wealth? Be it plainly exprest! 
 There is no way, at present, the one we can gain, 
 And still let the other unblemished remain. 
 
 Shall we go to the gold-mines ? "We're long used to roam, 
 But still we have friends and relations at home. 
 Shall we leave them forever, when honor is sold, 
 And we have in exchange a few ounces of gold ? 
 Or shall we, eluding each eye on the strand, 
 At midnight return to our own native land. 
 And, crouching like criminals, creep to the door 
 That never admitted dishonor before? 
 
 We will go to the gold-mines ! We have but to serve 
 A few paltry months more, and we never will swerve 
 From our promise ! Our honor shall never be sold 
 Though we were to receive for it mountains of gold ! 
 When our term shall expire, and with faces of men 
 We can meet friends or foes, (we shall fear nothing then.) 
 We will go to the mines, or wherever we will ; 
 And with consciences clear, all our bags we can fill. 
 
 But if haply by that time all digging is staid. 
 
 And a " stopper" by Government on it is laid. 
 
 We yet have a hope that for what we have done 
 
 In the strife when the gold-mines from strangers were 
 
 won, 
 Our friends won't desert us, although we shall come 
 With pockets quite empty, at last, to our home ; 
 And that leaving no blemish or spot on our name, 
 We shall go to the " gold-mines" of Honor and Fame. 
 
 Thus was there au opening for me to do for 
 myself and son and the "brother bom for adver- 
 sity," in a twofold sense, without hired help by 
 dispensing with visitors. For, when my brother 
 told me that the ladies of the new settlement 
 vv^ere promising him that they would come to 
 visit me as .soon as their duties at home should 
 allow, lest I get lonely, and leave ; I replied that 
 I should stay longer if they did not come. This 
 was not because I did not love society, or had 
 not a proper regard for my fellows. But T knew 
 the measure of my strength, and because I would 
 livefor my ciiild's sake, I would not attempt if 
 avoidable to go beyond it. However, our sum- 
 mer rambles brought us in contact, and my iater- 
 est in the children being discovered, I was so- 
 licited to engage to teach a school for the win- 
 ter. To this I cheerfully consented, in case 
 health permitted. A school- meeting was had 
 and arrangements made for clearing the ground 
 and erecting a school-liouse. The first team that 
 went to Grand Rapids after this meeting brought 
 a stove, designed for the school-house, for which 
 twelve dollars were paid. This, for lack of shel- 
 ter, was placed by the wayside in front of my 
 brother's house. I felt an ambition for laying 
 the corner-stone in the department of Pritiiary 
 School education in this new town of a wilder- 
 ness yet to blossom as the rose. But the chills 
 of autumn brought on an attack of lung-fever to 
 my boy, followed by a hacking cough, and I 
 knew I must not think of caring for him, and for 
 a school. So the business of preparing a house 
 was delayed till another year. My brother, the 
 latter part of November, contracted for chopping 
 by those whose femily were to occupy his house, 
 and board him. My prematurely fatherless boy 
 looked on silently while the contract was written 
 out and signed. Then he retired behind the bed- 
 curtains, and on my looking: in upon him, I found 
 him silently weopiuir at the^thoughts of his home 
 being agniu broken up. We returned to Grand 
 Eapids the last day of November, 1855, intending 
 to spend a few weeks, and then go to St. Joseph's 
 
 county to see friends who had been kindly so- 
 liciting us through the summer to visit them. 
 But an attack of chill-fever in my own person 
 prevented. I was upon a sick-bed, in a com- 
 fortable log-house, five miles to the south of 
 Grand Rapids, on the plankroad to Kalamazoo, 
 when the papers from my husband's hand last 
 copied reached me. I had concluded to return 
 East as soon as strength should allow. The first 
 time I felt able to go out, I rode to the city and 
 paid my stage-fare, leaving orders for the stage 
 to call for me. And on Monday, 11 A.M., Janu- 
 ary 21st, 1856, at the hour when Mr. Little 
 closed his eyes to open them no more upon tt;e 
 scenes of time, his repudiated wife and child 
 turned their faces homeward from their western 
 tour. JSText morning at six we were at my brother's 
 in Detroit. My brother told me he had waited 
 to see me before he should reply to Mr. Little's 
 letter to him.self — said he should say to Mr. 
 Little that he was persuaded Charlie must have 
 more exercise in ihe open air than his business 
 would give him. The Thursday following, a let- 
 ter came to Charlie from Anna, saying that his 
 father was dead. That when he was dying, she 
 asked him if he had any word for Charlie. Ho 
 said : " Tell Charlie I wish for the blessing of God 
 upon him." She asked, "Any thing moreV" 
 and he answered: "That is all." Charlie had, 
 after receiving his father's letter, and while wait- 
 ing for me to recover, printed a little daily, till 
 he had made an epistle for his father. He was 
 intending to inclose it with his Uncle James' re- 
 ply. As soon as he liad word of his father's 
 death, he inquired with weeping: "Mother, do 
 you think pa knows now that I have v/ritten 
 him a letter?" 
 
 Early in spring I returned to Sheffield to look 
 after the duties that remained for me. I was 
 without money, the rent for my meadow remain- 
 ing unpaid, and the renter having left the place. 
 I could sell the meadow for enough present pay 
 to liquidate my debts; remainder to be paid 
 eight, nine and ten years from date of notes given 
 on mortgage deed; giving me an annual income 
 of between seventy and eighty dollars, after de- 
 ducting taxes. This, as I supposed all under- 
 stood, was the provision for my own personal 
 support. After thus disposing of this matter, I 
 next waited to see how Charlie's support was to 
 come. I looked week after week in the county 
 papers to see when a notice should appear call- 
 ing the attention of those interested in the estate 
 of Mr. Little. Nothing appearing, I invited Mr. 
 Ira Curtiss to wait on Lucius, the eldest son, and 
 inquire of him concerning Charlie's portion of his 
 father's possessions. He was informed that there 
 was nothing for Charlie that he knew of. His 
 father's affairs were all settled, and his Hither 
 died possessed of nothing. 
 
 I had learned, while anxious to knoiv duty 
 that I might do it, not to wear myself out with 
 anxious thought, which, instead of adding to life 
 or its comforts, detracts from each. There was a 
 testament in my hands containing a writing in 
 which I had a personal interest. " Thy Maker 
 is thy husband," and " Leave thy fatherless child- 
 ren with me; I will preserve them alive," were 
 as good currency with me as any paper extant. 
 Not that I looked for miraculous supplies, while 
 I folded my hands; but I looked that by daily 
 reaching to Him my hand in faith, and following 
 
A MOTUKR8 PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 59 
 
 Uie indiaitions of hui providence, be eliouKl lend 
 lue in ft way that I know nut, oven in Uii» way 
 
 the watofH rr<'i 
 fouiiUiin lit I 
 
 llm c<.,.Hii'/ ami n"\< r-<-. (ihitu 
 
 i icil, Liiii iUa 
 Miuch OS niv 
 
 ■.■4 lu li.i» ru:.il ili.-,;;i> I. wi.i .'( 
 our writ like n irreat rock 
 
 lliO 
 
 in a 
 
 tl 
 
 . inteu- 
 
 '■ ■ ■ . 
 
 Wtl fX- 
 
 1, 
 
 ; 1 liivso po8- 
 • _' the B>i!k- 
 
 u: 
 
 
 ri. 
 
 ■ 1 111 
 
 I 
 
 • 'ir ex- 
 
 It'.. 
 
 . . ' . ,w!k.'you 
 
 Woujij 
 
 Oi,. , 
 
 !•: 
 
 Ol i:ii) iiry i.";.' 
 
 i-t as lullows: 
 
 . irom xia sooner lu reply.'' 
 
 7, 't.ntf^'5: " Wc hnvn uerer 
 
 ' .>m Mr. 
 
 r letters 
 
 ■mil.-- i.i- (.>ji'i;i:ii>ii>i. iiio latest 
 
 Chicago, Feb. 6tb, 1858. 
 Dkar Sib: Too desire us to write you our 
 
 conclusion in regard to the matter of the Bulkley 
 cstnt.'. Yoti will r«c<ilk'ct that by the provision" 
 
 tllHlj Culiriiiliu-U Itii- tiUili: 
 While ih'""' wlio wre 't 
 
 to 
 
 A -• n^v .'1 
 
 OTer-exertioi 
 
 summer of 1 , , 
 
 power, and ot power to l;iix>r or v 
 
 to an occa.><ioiinl ainkinp, whi'^li 1 
 
 indii ate a tendency to 
 
 Minko an effort, by eoin. -, 
 
 with il- ■ ' "I ::... i'<iy, 
 
 who y : r more than 
 
 the moi.i ;. \ : , ■ ■^- it. 
 
 Hy ridinp over the lulls aii>l atiionj? iho vsUeys 
 
 of New-Kiiplnmi. with my own private convi-v 
 
 ance, avoidiuir conversation, by Rtoppiiip at holeLi 
 
 to rot when weary, I, in a f<'W wet- k«. cnj^-vi^d a 
 
 f a new hohl on life. But : uf 
 
 soon told me that health v. .u 
 
 t' : ■ . . - 
 
 tul'....„j. 
 
 S" • ir n?t \\\r> recortls were (v>nfv>rr'"d it did not 
 t' -hare of 
 
 t lion of 
 
 K. ' ■ - 
 
 h 
 
 ■would, in iiii providence open a way for my 
 escape from a winter of death, thmnc-h one or 
 another of the.so channels, brain-t. iit 
 
 me low. I was alone with mv ^v 
 
 .t 
 
 titl>d to nil :..) 
 
 hiil.itio'' V' r. rs. 
 
 He^n ' ' llio coiispirttcy a^-iuust 
 
 ilrd. i. r remain 
 
 \ I ry t!ui/ jours, 
 
 SPArJX)BU k JOXKB. 
 
 J. A. Rots, Esq. 
 
 ifv br >tl.i r, th^ fir^t yoar after my husband's 
 <! ise a little homo, 
 
 V. ivo without paying 
 
 rout, ;i.4 I.. . .ii .;i' l!.c li;:ie a.1 we chose. He 
 named a pi.i<o n<ar tlie Roys' Houioste.vl. at the 
 foot of the TiKiinic range of moi, 
 border our town on the west. 1 
 mf>. ii" I 'kii,<\v of any other I w< ... . ,. . 
 n . ,1. He wished me to make my.- 
 
 ci>' ioinff what I felt able to do, a: 
 
 Io«k t» tiim for money to K-d.-uice my acconnt.s oii 
 thij rt>tnm of nflcb season for snnunl sottli^nn-nf 
 
 altar w s 
 
 cup, ail : ; '"- 
 aent to l>i<.«6 uinl lu iieal. 1 saw tuy uwn vAt^e 
 clearly. I had, in the person of my ehil '. a wise 
 
 acrraiit. H<' km.' " r to I* 
 
 ready to tise the <» — to 
 
 speak, to mov '-nt 
 
 from me. T r- 
 
 stand why 1 'J 
 
 come into the iiouae to do a i "^ 
 
 oalleil them at my r*^r'i'^<>t. I, 
 
 because he had ■ •*. 
 
 Cold, wet towels a "h 
 
 •..i 
 
 •L 
 ic «, where lie took 
 I was, a^ iny own 
 
 i'lti'iiiiv:. 1 •' -ioi.t' ill tho hou.<<e through the 
 iiii'lif .■iii.i u.viral hours at n timp Lbroi:i.'b tho 
 
 : - ...... ,,,,^ 
 
60 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 idea. But how shall I describe to those who, 
 looking urion the outward appearance, thouglit 
 uie very lonely ou thnt sick-bed, the true state 
 of the case! Let them imagine, if they can, one 
 lying in a room delightfully illuminated, who 
 feels that not a muscle may be tasked as an inlet 
 to the senses, who for once opens her eyes and 
 looks iipon a congregation of pure and spotless 
 beings, whose loving countenances, beaming 
 with delight, are all turned toward her as they 
 sit iu an attitude bespeaking that they are in 
 attendance exclusively on her account, under- 
 derstanding that breatlaless silence is her present 
 element; who sees ainoug this congregation 
 sainted parents and sisters, husband and child, 
 pastor and Christian brethren, and having glanced 
 a look that shows the fact, shuts the eyes, and 
 enjoys ah the comfort such a view imparts, while 
 she lits motionless as inanimate clay. Then, as 
 the hours pass, imagine this host breathing, not 
 into the ear, but into the heart, the most pre- 
 cious tratlis contained in the Scriptures ; 
 and strains of music, sweet and sootlhng, not 
 heard but felt. And then giving; blest assur- 
 ances of a glorious future ; yea, a future of end- 
 less glory. And not only this, but an assurance 
 that her earth- work is not yet finished ; that she 
 shall live to act an important part in the drama 
 in which G-od unfolds his designs to the children 
 of men. Let them imagine this and they have 
 a view, as near as I can picture, of tlie real com- 
 forts I enjoyed in that lonely, disordered, and 
 widowed home, where help seemtd far, and death 
 nigh. As soon as returning health enabled me 
 to sit up, I felt that I must immediately leave the 
 scene of my domestic cares. I had suffered a 
 burning sensation about the vocal organs, while 
 my fever lasted, and on arising from my bed 
 could only speak in a whispfr. I repaired to a 
 brother's, feehng that a few days would strength- 
 en nie so as to return to duty. M}'' l>rother was 
 one morning about leaving for the village, and I 
 was giving him instrucuons to do a few errands 
 for me. This was after my voice became re- 
 stored. While speaking, my tongue refused to 
 articulate distinctly, and I knew at once that 
 palsy was the cause. I felt no oppression except 
 in the center of my forehead, and distinctly per- 
 ceived tliat the elFurt to think intensely while in- 
 structing my Ijrotber concerning my errands, had 
 been the exciting cause. I immediately retreat- 
 ed, dismissed care and thought as much as possi- 
 ble, and felt a relief ]i it on taking hohl of a 
 vessel to raise water to my mouth, I discovered 
 that my right arm had been deprived of a portion 
 of its power. Yer, not till attempting to go up 
 a flight of stairs did I know that this diminution 
 of power ran throughout the right side. I could 
 no(. plac=^ my right foot first and raise myself, but 
 could advance by continuing to raise tlie left foot 
 first. I liad no medical advice. I desired none. 
 1 could read my case clearly. The Inbor of ex- 
 plaining it to another I could not safely attempt. 
 1 could, after an hour's silence, speak a few 
 words, and then felt thdt the nervous energy of 
 the vocal organs was so nearly used that I might 
 not proceed, lest total and confirmed prostration 
 siiould result. My mother had a brother who 
 early in his married life had palsy, depriving him 
 of tlie use of his right arm, though he lived to 
 rear a family. Slie had a sister (still living) 
 whose riglit arm has been paralyzed twenty-two 
 
 years. I had had from my mother a detailed 
 account of her brother's case. He was at first 
 no more aft'ected than myself A physician w^as 
 employed, who bled him a day or two after his 
 attack. From the hour he was bled, the strength 
 of his partially paralyzed arm withered. After 
 it was completely prostrated, a voyage to the sea 
 was resorted to without any avail. I saw at a 
 glance that the only chance for me to escape 
 confirmed paralysis lay in seeking a warmer and 
 yet a bracing air, and in total exemption from 
 care. I knew the attempt would be attended 
 with difficulties, and with an expense which I 
 could not have thought of incurring for any other 
 object than to save life. I had a home, with 
 stores for the winter, and mj'' merchant trusted 
 me till my interest in April enabled me to 
 liquidate my indebtedness to him. All that I 
 possessed beyond this consisted of notes from 
 D. K. Savage, of Sheffield, one of four hundred 
 dollars, to be paid April fifteenth, 18C4; one of 
 five hundred dollrir.s, to Vie paid April fifteenth, 
 1865 ; and another of five hundred dollars, to be 
 paid AprU fifteenth, 18G6. These notes being 
 secured by a mortgage deed of a tract of good 
 meadow, I presume some one might be found 
 who would, in obedience to the command, 
 "From him that would borrow of thee, turn not 
 away," loan me the amount needed to pay my 
 way to a care, if so be a cure might be obtained, 
 and take tliis security. A brother, who had 
 ever been able to assist me to money when need- 
 ed, told me he then found it very difficult to 
 raise money. I felt that I must leave home as 
 soon as possible, and on Saturday after my 
 paralytic attack named the next Wednesday as a 
 day on which to set out. I then beg;^n to take 
 thought respecting the packing of a trunk, which 
 I intended asking a sister to do for me, but as 
 sooa as the effort to care in that direction com- 
 menced, I felt a return of the symptoms of pros- 
 tration. I saw that I could not endure the ex- 
 citement of making ready, or of a parting scene 
 with my boy or lirctliren and sister, or of endea- 
 voring to convince those whose silence told me 
 their doubts, that 1 could go forward unattend- 
 ed. I therefore asked my elder brother to let 
 my boy take me to the village on Monday after- 
 noon preceding the Wednesday I had fixed upon 
 to leave. He con.sented, and while my boy was 
 making ready the team, I stepped into my own 
 house, which I had left as soon as I was able to 
 be off the bed two hours at a time, and in twen- 
 ty-five minutes from the time I entered it I left 
 with a parcel in hand, put up in a newspaper, de- 
 signing in my own mind, if Providence permit- 
 ted, to go a sea-voyage to Florida. My brother 
 said he would be in the village the next day and 
 take me home if I chose. I found, as I antici- 
 pated, that the ride improved my strength, and 
 on Tuesday morning, I leisurelj^ put on a dress, 
 having worn nothing but a wrapper since sick, 
 and at two in the afternoon took the cars for 
 Hudson, N. Y. The two hours' ride gave me an 
 exercise in kind and amount such as I could en- 
 dure and such as I needed. I then took a night- 
 boat down the river, the motion of which, as well 
 as that of the cars, tended to distribute llie fluids 
 and nervous energies eqtially through the system. 
 My merchant loaned me ten dollars as I left 
 Sheffield. I left a line for my friends, telling 
 them I felt that duty demanded the course I pur- 
 
A MOTHEKS PEACE OFKEKING. 
 
 Gl 
 
 nucfi Biid that they ehould Iimt from m*» d»ilr. 
 I Bloppod Willi n brother in 
 York, who hmJ. a tew dnvH 
 
 CO- ' ' . - ■ - 
 
 ' hv hin Ih)'..'* in tJ•.,^f«^|,^ ^f,r) (wrrW* n« f-rrc- 
 
 Iv :.. . 
 
 Ill ■, or wiilk, OS best con> 
 
 bi-i ; liculth. 
 
 1 i'l a luA i;a_i» litVDtfd uiV-oll to ^l 
 how to alleriiAto n-Mt aid t-xcfiNxv m> ii-^ 
 C'.f - ■ • 
 
 boioved ot ii 
 
 Johii Brown • 
 
 ii>||j tor allciu|A:i K l< 
 hu bl'llL'ViHj, III' u ( 
 
 pa .... : -., L.., 
 
 b< httl wait oil 
 
 li ; Ihi-y hlittU 
 
 ruu Mttd hut bt» wetiry , llit-y tiiitnl walk, and tiot 
 fttint." Bit OD attrnipiintr u> f-M for borrowed 
 muiit^y, that I m'\u' -«" ho exuci 
 
 Ij ikdaptt'd to my ' ii that tioi ■ 
 
 to ■.■■' • ' -'■■■■ >■' i me. I I II. i 
 
 n- -^ jurct.H liiiii 
 
 tl.' ■■ , \vn^ BO liard 
 
 to bo rn!<id 111 Siiilbeld ns then. t»l:tflield, too, 
 was tlio plin;e whtre niy hu*b«iid had astoiiichtd 
 jM-uple n ffw years before tiy phiciii^ in iho 
 stores a notice cautioning the pubhc not to iiust 
 ar;- ' - -ouiii, and the public under- 
 
 »t 'I minn ine. Tlioiinh I JiJ 
 
 d( . :i lie d'cds of my mortid hu« 
 
 band, 1 hnct no mi^givm^'H in reltiiion to the pro- 
 videntiul euro and goodncM of my Maker. I 
 knew I ah )uld i ot faint and die for lack of sup- 
 pliea, iinlfss thai wer« a errfaier good than to 
 pii ' " i my t'oy to come 
 
 t" I him tiie trunk I 
 
 I waa not unused to slraito in which I could 
 find no guide other than an TJoceen One. My 
 wiilka in the cty had led me to dL-cover a dady 
 I'uion I'rayer-Mcctiog. Here I was permitted 
 to hand in a not*, over the signature, "A 
 Stranger," a^kinir unittd praytra in my behalf 
 that i; ' :r ' - JKt. I undePHlood 
 
 that it lidftice trom 0<>d 
 
 U.S fnni, u.i I continued 
 
 t" I Ihj able to 
 
 c<ji . i and vicini- 
 
 ty,) ui.d ui ihu oaii.o iHiiv Ui u»k !\jr rtferencea, 
 that I might, if able, do a little in the way of 
 teflchiiifr or c.iring for young children, to ei.ablc 
 me to «u»y near the «©a. W'h lo I wa.^ thus per- 
 pkxtd, and a.«kit;g for a riphi war " •■ " •' 
 waa forced upon my mind, that t 
 come when G«.d would have mo i> 
 for justice in behalf of my chdd. I beiiuved liiat, 
 though a cloud rented upon SbeflBcId too dense 
 for lifcht lo pentrtrntp, in reference to our case, 
 the truths might now be tsken into a light 
 
 where, .'•• ' ' ! ■ ' • • upon, they 
 
 should I J. 
 
 The t _ ' onservator" 
 
 was now citHr lo my own mind, and I (elt it my 
 duty t-J remonatrute to it« workings, inB.smuch ns 
 it bad neiiler been legwUy nppomted, nor legal 
 in ilfl trai.sactiona I knew tlut the Uwful hus- 
 band of mystl', a! ' ' " . ' r . :" : 
 child, at the tirne 
 
 in ShtfTicld to hi.s l. . . .. , - ... t...;. .w..-i,. 
 thounanda of dollars, oiler paymg ail hi.f dur(<, 
 (including his wife's legal cUim?,) independent 
 of his legacy at Chicago, and ho had then no 
 minor child but my boy. I knew that he had, 
 
 WIKC7 I tl 
 
 diie»«, B! ■; 
 
 He hild ulli^rU al uh Mgu W Ueli ihv law rr<. ;iriH 
 
 a "guanlian" f-.r th» )nttierl»-". H'lt !.■• ' nd 
 
 an uuu 
 
 lIlHl hlH , A- 
 
 aa was po».>iiblo without i - ■ rime. 
 
 I knew, better than an> -. the 
 
 dai ger that his anxiety bOuut mc : 
 hia own health; for «hen I leU him. 1 
 
 been too weak to allow ' r 
 
 cai.dk--lig-,t, HJnce an ill i. 
 
 arihii g Ifoni a utone-br. , , I i 
 
 mv dtip Wjlicitude, 1 calUd lo mind ■ 
 "iH'ave thy tutherleH;! chihlun wii ,i 
 
 preserve ibem alive," and to mnko the pfotntcu 
 more sure to me, bj an increase of fa th. I took 
 my requett, through a written note, to tl'O 
 Union I'rnyer-.Meeiing. A lett<^-r told me tial 
 
 he had > -oned, and his ! h 
 
 swollen. <• acciderii of p<^ 
 
 being n the fuel. Bat n , . h 
 
 revetted to me lact that fitraiigerR ^aa (iirrted 
 with me touching the iring I had airked of t>od, 
 and my btait rested upon his promise. I suc- 
 ceeded in geitnir my boy and irut.k lo the city 
 the first of ill' ^ ! '>ii hii arri> . ''o 
 
 had had \t<^ • rtrd by a ~t 
 
 his stomajh, :. ... - . ;.-a, but wa-i .- ;,e 
 
 animal an not to be ferioiit>ly injinert. Ho 
 brought with him the tilver I took with me lo 
 my husband's home, at the time of my marnige. 
 By pawning iliis, I was enabltd to meet every 
 exigence, until a way wa-i opemd fop mo lo re- 
 deem my sdvtr find pro.Ki.i-mo my i iiri < v. In 
 
 I r... ,. ...,,1 linip I llBO 1 • ■ I • • • .■ 
 
 .-ODs ignuraiii < 
 
 •Mill law ami j .- ;•» 
 
 reiaituu to my duty to my cluid. My ca es and 
 perpkxiiiea whi!f> wnim •/ ar <! writ't.g were a 
 check to the >■ Hud in ad* 
 
 diiioii to till' :ii one com- 
 
 pel ing a bu> m r I. I l not 
 
 plained for such an o%' i.{x»n 
 
 mo the symptoms of im : , .a lite 
 
 weakened members of my noay. Anout this 
 lime I noticed "Swedish Movement Cure fjr 
 Taralysis" upon the door of an ofRoe in tlie C<>o- 
 [K-r riiion. I resorted to ihis cure, and found a 
 
 It. iti.- -v.'tem, w»» liad, I mai: 
 uiii i iho 1h»i <»f February, l 
 preach of tlio s^-a-'on which ever Ui- 
 whtD leeble, and a lady wnc was 
 
62 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 ■winter in Florida writing me that she had taken 
 with her mouey which should be at my com- 
 mand oa arriving there, at the same time giving 
 nie au order for money to pay my pasjaere, I left 
 on the last diy of February, 1860, m ihe stfam- 
 er Stiir of the South, and arrived in Savannah, 
 Ga., on Saturday the 3d March. Was dataiued 
 herw till Wednesday following, when I took the 
 St. Mary's, and hrrivfed in J^icksonville, Florida, 
 next day. 
 
 The sea-sickness I suii'ered wasted my strength 
 and flesh rapidly, so that a friend fiom the 
 North, on finst meeting me, told the lady who 
 aided me to take the voyage, she did not think I 
 would live a week. But I wag already feeling 
 that this wassb of animal which had been 
 touched by palsy, was as necessary as is the fall 
 of verdure, touched by autumn frosts, to a re- 
 turn of the springs of life ; and I felt that such a 
 waste, or reduction, could not have been effected 
 in njy case through any other means than by 
 sea-sickness, without exiiDguishint; life's flame. 
 My ftrength gradually though slov/ly increased 
 during my stay through March and a part of 
 April, those months in which I had so often found 
 my i-trtngth wasting at the Nnrth. Then the 
 heat became so great that I dare not remain 
 longer, as I could not take the exercise necessa- 
 ry to promote circulation, without exciting: fever. 
 I concluded to take a sail-vessel on my return 
 pas-sage, thinking I could now endure a stronjier 
 potior of the sea-S'ckness remedy. And I did en- 
 dure it. But, happily for me, though greatly to 
 the annoyance of the strong, our neat little 
 echooner (iTulia Smitb, Capt. Orlando, of Cape 
 Cod) was li'jd, by its anchor, to the bed of tne 
 Delaware, at Breakwater Harbor, from Saturday, 
 28th April, to Friday, May 4th. A few days of 
 convalescence being thus granted me, I was pre- 
 pared on ai rival at Philadelphia, (Sunday, 6!.h 
 May,) to go next day by railroad to New- York, 
 where I stopped till June, the better to recruit 
 exhausted nature, and to wa't till the chills of 
 spring h«d pas-ed from Berkshire's hills and 
 plains. I then re urned to the town fiom which 
 I had glided so imperceptibly away the Novem- 
 ber pr.;vious, that my village friends, many of 
 them, had not found me among the missing, or 
 upon the list of invalids. I ha'i two or three 
 dollars in hand, and was now in the town where 
 I had tried in vain to borrow mouey, and in a 
 state of health which forbade a pressing care. I 
 pcissed from the cars to the hotel, and inquired 
 of M^ Miller, the la,ndlord, if he would boaid me 
 a few raonlha on trust, telling him the condition 
 of my finances. He consented, and I took up 
 with him my home. Yes, my home. I have a 
 Iwrne. I have always had a home. I expect to 
 always have a home. I thank God for that sys- 
 tem of legal civilization which secures to mo an 
 everlasting home on earth; and f^r that Christ- 
 ian system which secures to me an everlssling 
 home when earth shall be dissolved. 
 
 The idea of the " Conservator" may now be 
 clearly seen. To my mind it reads thus: "Go 
 to the homes of your benevolent brethren, and 
 tell them that you are too poor and too lueak to 
 have a home of your own, and they mwit take 
 you in." 
 
 I have never indorsed this idea I shall never 
 indorse it while of my present mind. Whether 
 that mind be sane or insane, let competent judges 
 
 decide. Perhaps the "Conservator" in this 
 work was doing to others as it would that others 
 should do unto it. 1 should not be acting in 
 obedience to the golden rule, were I to follow 
 such a fashion. My father and mother ai'e passed 
 away. My brethren are my neighbors. God 
 bids me withdraw my foot fr-om my neighbor's 
 house, lest he be weary of me, and so hate me. 
 My father and mother were among the married 
 pairs who, though unlike, moved in harmony be- 
 fore the family band ; and as a result, they pre- 
 sented to the world the good and pleasant sight 
 of brethren and sisters dwelling together in com- 
 parative unity. /, tlie elder, mother sister, shall 
 not voluntarily do that which God instructs me 
 tends to stir up their hatred towards me. For 
 however benevolent the impulses and slow the 
 hatred of the mor'e genid, the same elements 
 enter into the composition of every human heart. 
 Therefor 3 the universal law of Scripture is appli- 
 cable and profitable unto all. But how can I 
 withdraw my foot from a neighbor's house, if I 
 have not a home of my own ? And how can I 
 have a home of my own, if I have not strength 
 or money ? 
 
 Shall I go into the public ways, and pray God 
 to send the manna from heaven to feed me? No, 
 for the days of miracles are passed. Shall I go 
 out without gold, or silver, or notes on paper, to 
 offer in exchange for the supplies necessary to 
 sustain Ufe ? No, for that would be departing 
 from the blessings of civilization. I shall avail 
 mj'solfof these blessings, and have a home, a 
 lawful home ; the best home God empowers me 
 to select, whether that home be with the rich or 
 the poor ; in city or in country ; on land Or on sea ; 
 a hired home, or a possessed home ; a home in 
 a corner of the house-top or in a wide house. 
 If I have a legally appointed conservator, guar- 
 dian, or master, I have to consult his instructions, 
 and obey them in the Lord. But if I am a 
 widowed mother, without such protection, I un- 
 derstand that I am head of a house, and am con- 
 cerned in the truth, "he that neglects to provide 
 for his own, and especially those of his own 
 house, hath denied the faith, and is woi'se than 
 an infidel." At the time I consented to adopt my 
 brother's ^jroposal, after my husband's decease, 
 and accept his proffered gift, I indulged hopes 
 that I might be able, with Charlie's labor and my 
 own, to live upon my income, and only feel 
 obliged to my brother for gratuitous rent ; but 
 we both suffered loss through over-estimating our 
 strength ; and when my boy's father had been 
 four years dead, the brother whom ho addressed, 
 as his last worldly act of which I have any ac- 
 count, had furnished me in money (as a gift from 
 his own earnings) the full amount agreed upon 
 by my husband. Had I felt less pressed by a 
 sense of obligation, a less sum would (I doubted 
 not) have supplied me. When I was compelled 
 to relinquish this home, I felt sad at the thoughts 
 of my brother's disappointment, and as soon as I 
 had looked at my affairs with my own eyes, I 
 advertised my brethren that I should act inde- 
 pendent of their advice ; that instead of trying 
 to board at half pay, quarter pay, or no pay, I 
 should seek the necessaries of life, and pay the 
 market pi'ice. I could then only write the 
 " what" without giving the " why." As I re- 
 viewed the " Conservator's" work, I saw that one 
 dollar a week each was the offer for board. 
 
A MOTIIEHS PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 63 
 
 Thw, nf •w'rt. '.vai no mor** thnn hslf ]^v. At I 
 
 th- 
 
 d>i 
 
 W: 
 
 I ]• 
 
 to r 
 
 Bii'i I > try thf ■ I 
 
 of:; ivvBy from : 
 
 •«•' ii. 
 
 1 ' :i. I uTutc mv cldevt brother, 
 
 (t!. ■ ■ " ' 
 
 iu > 
 
 pi- 
 lar 
 
 br..l 
 
 streii^lli, (Hiy liiiu iur inj w.>ik \U..il il \^uo 
 
 wortli. To this h«« c-in^nut*"!. wi\ <'harlio loll 
 
 for '• . • : : 
 
 So 
 
 iwkinp fr>r i« nt th" hnnds of dtJl law ; and re- 
 i' furo I should Imto thocity. 
 
 I. I ..... t I ., .1 i\. 
 
 Tu ihi town of BhoOlcld, Berkshire Ca, Ifaat., 
 
 t r ' ■' - projK-r authuritiM for acting iu 
 I loor. 
 
 I lie a^itiiu buiidiu^ ; liu 
 -A V.'.nt he oo'iM look 
 
 niui 
 
 SniiUi, iti liif 
 cy»^ dnvii'v' ^'•'■ 
 at • 
 wl. 
 
 aii<' . i.iiM 
 
 ri' 1 tho 
 
 city. . ..vcd no 
 
 poorer :: s, and wo may hope 
 
 riclirr i-; ...st. I had tho eatia- 
 
 fac voluntarily, that whiit 
 
 ho \ WHS tliiso lectures 
 
 au i . Rev. Mr. i^mitli pro- 
 
 p"- tho upp.>r pari of tin- 
 
 city ■■■•'■■ "•«. ami .stitcd tliat 
 
 if t ion then pre.senl 
 
 W" would 1)0 rnisod 
 
 at ' .. <iu leavin)^ the nicot- 
 
 ine, iiirs to pivc any where 
 
 to biiil'l .'. i-hnrth. .■• \\'U'.d pivo it there. 
 
 Wiien I w;«.H about to return from the city to 
 
 Sh-'''- ' ■•• ' ■ • •• •'• ' '■■'•■;y wa^ 
 
 noi i(j tho 
 
 Fui , as n 
 
 Wi: r and ■ i^tiru^tinn womnn, that I 
 
 mi.^ . 1 iu tho appropriate duties of my 
 
 eplierc. 
 
 Having become oetab!i5hed in my home at 
 this hotel, I sent a line to luy .son. .-vikinp him to 
 call and .see nie; and also uoiiliod my fr;ciids 
 that I was able to receive a short cal I'roni one 
 or two indiviihial.s d.iily. I jd.«<> t.x)k daily walk/" 
 of from one to two miles. I tlnu h.'id a ro<>iii to 
 which to retire and shut out domestic care, in- 
 flate the Innirs. apply cold .«»f>ft. w.-jt^r to the more 
 
 Opp: ! 
 
 sk.'' ■ , . 
 
 he : om h\a el . 
 
 w«'i ' I't. 1st for I 
 
 dollars l)v.>*i'ii' III- l-vKifd. This waa a pru\iMoii 
 for tlio sinmior if h- ultli oniitiniifl. Hnt Thariii' 
 haci : ■ \mng 
 
 lai 1 II. In 
 
 ca.-<o ..; . I .. .i.'i .Ml ..:,■■ ii.ui lo my- 
 
 self, or 1 ■ him a.s I h.id formerly don,'. 
 
 How tt.' i. like the wise ant, pref>aro 
 
 for such au exigence? 1 addn'.ssed a lino, be- 
 fore leaving Now- York, to his eldest half-brother, 
 inquiring if I could receive tho money his failur 
 agrev'd to p;»y mo for Charlie's sup|virt, williu'it 
 
 iiilruducoL, oouijilcU-iy i 
 
 upon tho suljjoet of a j 1 
 
 wife and hor otlsprinp. 11. it U," : ■* 
 
 frenzy ha.H liocn to destroy the h' 
 second wife; caus*^- filial diso.-ise of i 
 their lirsl-bom ; a di.«iiil;oritauco 
 lirethrcii of a minor «>n, tlioir onl; . vc 
 
 child: and the brin};inp down to the grave with 
 sorrow of liis own ve:ii rnble !;end. 
 
 Tho U! • . 
 
 provider i 
 
 tl-o 
 
 th. 
 
 1'^'^ • , ■■■■■•^ 
 
 W- .vity. 
 
 I ' at the time 1ms arrived wliea the 
 
 truUi of her opinion, as above given, can be 
 shown in open court, she plai^e.Q her son at the 
 
 door of .-^ " I 
 
 guardian 
 
 to ov»^m..-- .1 
 
 voyi'd to his 
 
 .'-Sheffield, as i 
 
 seventh portion ol said real csiJite, loticiiiior with 
 
 tlio use of said ]>ortion since the dcvo:isc of his 
 
 and their father in January of 1.^56. 
 
 Respectfully submitted, 
 
 LAt:R\ J. LiTTLK, 
 
 Widow of lialpb Little. 
 SilEFFiELP, June ISih, 1860. 
 
 After preparing to take this la-t ^ti^p. T n'ff^r 
 tained that my eldest brother '■• 
 the board of seW^tmen. which • 
 for I know it is h.ir 1 
 looked upon i».-< " a - 
 
 ovil before i;. 
 
 He had stood l>y i 
 . "lied ov«r nio, next in 
 wiiu wadouce " a man of sorrow.s, i.ii.i i 
 
 with grief H" Im" dono hi^ full j.r. 
 ward usi!.. i 
 
 am now ; 
 
 to mako 1 .- ■ 
 riTct'ticn ot 
 
 tho i"'!!.!'' w! . • I 
 
 are broken. Tiiori'rore, 1 ^i with my 
 
 work. So far as human • • nt is con- 
 
 cemo<l, I stand alone, il >o wa.s to 
 
 arrange tiie writings in i. , liarmg a 
 
6i 
 
 A MOTHER S PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 bearing upon the case, according to their dates, 
 and then write out the facts to which I could tes- 
 tify before any tribunal empowered to try and de- 
 cide my suit, so that I may be ready to give an 
 answer to'auy who shall ask, What are the proofs 
 in the case? About the time I was entering 
 upon the work of examining manuscripts, I re- 
 ceived yours, containing tlie inquiry which I 
 quoted at the beginning of this, my chronic 
 epistle. I now seem: d to have found an answer 
 to the inquiry which I had for many months been 
 carrying daily to C4od, namely : " What wilt thou 
 have me to do?" 
 
 I could more easily give my reasons for my 
 opinion of slavery, and the proofs I could ad- 
 duce to substantiate my opinion of duty toward 
 my child, in a compound form, than in any other, 
 inasmuch as the Creaior had given them to me 
 in that form. Having sought to unfold some of 
 the darker passages of my hidden life, by copy- 
 ing from original records, and adding soiueudtes 
 by the way, 1 will proceed, by p;ractical applica- 
 tion, to endeavor to give you to see slavery with 
 my eyes, and to persuade j^ou that 1 am not de- 
 ceived in my present view. In rey private jour- 
 nal I find the following: 
 
 August \1th, 1834. — This afterncon, at Mr. 
 Rogers's. Interested in reading anti-slavery pub- 
 lications. Am convinced that I, and most others 
 in these Northern States, have had but little light 
 on the subject of slavery, and but a faint idea of 
 its horrors and its sins, as existing in ihe Southern 
 States of our celebrated Union ; or of the undue 
 prejudices amongst us all, in relation to persons 
 of color. 
 
 From the following letter, may be derived an 
 inference of my own opinion, one year later than 
 the above date. 
 
 New-Marlborough, July 13lh, 1835. 
 Mt Dear Miss Rots : I received your com- 
 
 municaiion by the hand of S , and was 
 
 highly gratified with tlie sentiments of friend- 
 ship and respect which it contains. It was no 
 intrusion on my feelings, I assure you, but was 
 received with all the cordiality of a long-cher- 
 ished friend. I also feel a pie isure in the reflec- 
 tion that our acquaintance, though ace dental and 
 slight, has resulted in our nmtual esteem and 
 satisfaction. I think you, however, worthy a 
 little reproof for the undeserved commendation 
 you bestowed upon an individual so unworthy. 
 I indeed hope I am a Cliristian, but a most un- 
 faithful one ; a sinner, if ever saved, by grace, 
 infinite and unmerited grace. This is all my 
 boast, and all my hope. You mentioned last 
 summer. I, too, often think of the happiness 
 which I enjoyed in j-our society, and that of the 
 other Shcffiold and also New- York friends, as 
 pleasures gone by, and probably in relation to 
 some of them, at least, never to be repeated. 
 This is the signet which is stamped upon all our 
 earthly enjoyments. But it is a feature in the 
 character of that rest which remaineth for the 
 people of God, that separation is unknown. 
 " The fearful words, to part, are never heard above." 
 
 How, my dear L , will the pleasures of 
 
 Christian intercourse be increased when, free 
 from sin and its flattering influence, we shall be 
 
 permitted to enjoy, not only the society of the 
 just made perfect, but also of angels, and even of 
 the benevolent Redeemer himseli; whose pre- 
 sence fills his children, while on earth, with such 
 imutterable joy ; the joy of pardoned sinneis; 
 the joy of being raised from the lowest state of 
 degradation and misery, to the anticipaiion of 
 the highest perfoct blessedness of which our ua- 
 tm'es are capable. What love is tt^iis? How 
 does all the vanity of earthly pleasures S'Tink 
 into contenqjtible nothingness when brought into 
 competition with thuse which flow from con- 
 formity to God. They are not worthy to be 
 named with the same breath, or weighed in the 
 same balance. I would I were more influi^nced 
 by the former, and les-s by the latter. 
 
 You say you trust I am enabled to rejoice in 
 view of several things. You wdl recollect them. 
 
 Y^es, I do rejoice, especially in view of the 
 benevolent enterprises of the day. It is not 
 among the least of the privileges which God has 
 bestowed upon us, that we are permitted to live 
 in these ends of the world, when he is exciting 
 his children to more spirited action in his service 
 than formally. 
 
 Among the various other benevolent enter- 
 prises of the day, we behold the Anti-Slavery 
 Society just emerging from a storm of opposition 
 poured upon it, not omy by the world, but by 
 those whose names stand Ibiemost on the re- 
 cords of Christian benevolence. But the cause, 
 I trust, is God's, and will eventually prevail. 
 More than two millions of oppressed beings in 
 the United States have cried, and their cries are 
 entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth; 
 and he has come down to deliver, and he will 
 deliver, though it be by the destruction of their 
 oppressors. 
 
 I shall ever be glad to see you or hear from 
 you. Yours respecifully. 
 
 Electa Siikphked. 
 
 After taking possession of a separate home for 
 myself and boy, in 1851, I supplied the lack of 
 society to my child, as far as able, by reading to 
 him, a half hour of each evening, from works 
 designed to entertain and instruct. Uncle Tom's 
 Cabin was put mto my hand by a neighbor, and 
 thus slowly perused. As I proceeded, day after 
 day, my heart swelled with emotion too big for 
 utterance, in beholding in Eva a delineation of a 
 character so like the child I had given back to 
 God two years before. The utterance I needed 
 not to attempt, for none but God could under- 
 stand my case, and he could read the heart. 
 One, among mortals, has been led to say to me, 
 that he was similarly impressed while reading 
 the same work, although at the time he read, he 
 was on the Pacific coast. 
 
 In January, 185'.), I was with a circle of friends 
 convened at the dwelling of your late grand- 
 motlier. I found there those whose duty it is to 
 qualify themselves to judge of matters pertaining 
 10 their country's government, that theii- influence 
 as performing members of the body politic, may 
 be upon the side of " right," whose opinions upon 
 the suliject of slavery were antagonistic. I very 
 naturally suggested some ideas, when my former 
 pupil, Mrs. Dowd, gently reminded me thf.t I 
 once commended abolition movements. I told 
 her, as we retired so as not to be overheard, (for 
 I perfectly understood that woman's experience 
 
A motiikk's peack offkrino. 
 
 er, 
 
 It puM on 111" 
 
 a-; 1 V. 
 That I 
 
 Mitiiico luy huuao liiid 
 
 rri m<>rfyrpd, mj boy 
 
 1-", nnd my 
 
 , ' and iho 
 
 .inonized and recorded, 
 
 .ih 
 
 i; . ir.-ii,', lit -'."t'l tiian ^ th;if O.i.l 1..t1 ' l:0.-ul if lii; i \v!i.> Vli..!!, .1 il, firr T s.il (<.,ivn to 
 br 
 
 Wll .'TO- 
 
 lo\% 
 (tpii. 
 lo u 
 
 in K 
 
 this , ........ 
 
 elect US 
 
 nnfpel of 
 
 pathy; t l.j or prol^.i l»i.i li.uy 
 
 ifjHiiijf • I t'lHt H r,' .'<] <]•> iint<» 
 
 BOIl' 
 
 iu • 
 Inl. 
 
 cull 
 
 tAk 
 itfl ' 
 
 be. 
 
 tna 
 
 bri: 
 tiOn 
 
 lo.l 
 unil 
 of 1 
 
 Du yuu urtk, W'L)- .-(icak Ihtis to Mrs. Dowd, 
 instead of others? I aoswt-r: Mrs. D. had, 
 till'-'- •• ' 
 
 .Sh. 
 
 will. .. 
 •lico! til. 
 stood in ' 
 
 iiig to kiu>w wiiitt 
 it to mnkA of mo. 
 
 \'.. ■■ 
 oni' 
 
 Tro •■- • ' ■ 
 
 on ; 
 
 nsc , , ■ \ 
 
 sumuiil in the rear ol" my dweliui,r. by tiie 
 
 time *hp 9tnr^ v.-ore n'^;>arf-r!t in ih" ^\:y, tbo 
 
 mo - 
 
 pi., 
 
 ;is t 
 
 Al 
 
 W'>r 
 
 mnr 
 
 evor 
 
 till 
 
 ex' 
 
 Wl'-' 
 
 bor 
 
 na:;. ..... 
 
 summit and tar 
 
 Alth..-'-»i r :;r 
 
 lx)y 
 
 it, : 
 
 hill 
 
 an i 
 
 iiiipusiliuU (^y>d Wuuid toUiivr 
 
 1859. n little I :" t 
 
 -', I hcATd thf 
 
 [ C4III wi'ii avuid 
 ■ Ivm f\<"\ Mr?" 
 
 I?' 
 
 an' I 
 
 their way litnvn nmmig ■ 
 
 bers nro a pi't of il»o wf ■;!■ 
 
 till. 
 
 th.' 
 
 an 1 
 
 ra;, 
 
 ori > 
 
 safety ot" Utiier. brother, or i 
 within;' that the calaniitv mi>. 
 
 hv iwvu hiH UxJy bunii'd ? " For WJtu the mea- 
 suro t!i<(t V" piot<>. it shall ht' m'^n'urf'd !ii'r> r.*-;." 
 "I;. 
 I II 
 
 < lO'i ii.i-> j' 1 :: . ,■. i; 1 ;:: iii, v 
 
 inh'Titanre. 
 
 A little fATl . . ... .' tire 1. '..,.. 
 
 out upon earth, anliko any bcioro ■. 
 stupoudous for iU) r. port than for iu> i 
 iia gnindou'. Its reverbt rations bi.>^.K li.f 
 earth, and whelmed niankind with wonder. I 
 s^t ill HIT Lome at the foot of Old Taconi', (New 
 Mount Mvirett,) und a« I looked at the prcvni, 
 I reviewed the past 
 
 I recalled that, in 1834, a brother Aholitioniat 
 mot M^ ffleazon, who hud in his day ben a 
 8cb<'>lar niid a teacher, but was then bending be- 
 neath the inQrmiiies of years and an over- 
 wrought nervous frame, who accosted him 
 with : 
 
 " \V»11, hare you got your sword ready ?" 
 " Yea, all Uie aword I want — the sword of the 
 Spi.it." 
 
 " Ah 1 but that won't do for G ," naming 
 
 a leader rif a band whom I then supposed going 
 forih under the banner of the Prince of iVace. 
 When I learned of tbo tr.nfical movements at 
 - Ferry, my heart nave to the el.K-r.^ of 
 it It then withheld — ihc li..iior . f he;;.»{ 
 t judges in new and ail' 
 r, U»iv. Mr. Bradford, over r^ 
 ^ pulpit those who would ad. 
 i.'ivements. 
 
 ■■ dear had been the fchool, I thanked 
 lic had converttd mo from tho enr.r of 
 in maintaining au opinion founded iu 
 1 • 'j '"■■ "■• 
 
 As I loikod in tho pictorial at the haggard 
 
 Hfd astonsh.d vi»ag« portraying tho hero of 
 
 Harper's Ferry, with tho fruit of hi.^ own loioa 
 
 lyin;; by liia side, victims of hi' mad p'lr^u;!, I 
 
 •'it whioh to.ik hold o; 
 
 ■ «. Tho fallen cot;- 
 
 fij.«il to ,1 
 
 I'V l.'u'll 
 
 ' one dxed purpose with an 
 
 ■•.;h I'-n- on at d r.nrib op- 
 
 pc-ie, all Lv-.c '..■<■ ;. - a to 
 
 the oountenan?e ai : r.i n( 
 
 mar- 
 r an 
 
e)6 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 uttered to a brother-in-law through hii first wife, 
 into whose ccrapany he fell while traveling', 
 that he could " not hold up his head." He bad 
 taken up uo carnal weapon, therefore no carnal 
 weapon was takea up against him. For teven 
 years was ihis strong man bowed, yea, he bowed 
 hi!* head as a bulrush. When not looking over 
 his accounts, he labored alone in the tield, if not 
 wet wiih the dew of heaven, welting the earth 
 wiih his tearp. Hia vigor bad not abated. His 
 locks were bushy and raven, with not a tsace of 
 the frost of time upon them. I had, in my at- 
 tempts to get access to his heart, once tcld him 
 I desired him to help me preserve my aifection 
 for him, that I might comfort him when the in- 
 firmities of f:ge should come upon hioj. But he 
 only gave me a contemptuous laugh, more like 
 my boy's when I told him I was his mother at 
 the lime he thought I was John Doten, than any 
 thing else to which I can compare it. Yet no 
 mtniion was made of his insanity, so far as I 
 know, beyond what I have named. 
 
 When John Brown took up arms at Harper's 
 Ferry, the work of his maddened brain was soon 
 cut shoit in righteousness — the remainder of 
 his wrath restrained. But there were some who 
 had been slain by this wrath : and does God to- 
 day make inquisition for blood, as in the day 
 when wrath first raised the carnal weapon ? If 
 so, to v/hom does the inquiry come : " Where is 
 thy brother?" Who siiall take up the wail 
 for the untimely separation of husbands and 
 wives, and parents and children, by those whose 
 skin is culored like their own? My heart has 
 been made to feel upon this subject, but it trust- 
 eth in tiie Lord. The Judge of all the earth 
 wid do right. He will Correct the wrongs com- 
 mitted by earthly, selfconstituted, and partial 
 judges, whL)se strong wills can not bend to God's 
 will, after being committ^ d to an opinion. 
 
 When my hu.sband h,-.d made the last pro- 
 clamation, not openly, but, as it were, in secret, 
 of bis purposes toward me, his woik, too, wss 
 soon cut short. A fever succeeded tlie cold he 
 spoke of iu his letter to Cliarlie. Rumor has 
 told me that the last night of his life, as he lay 
 in his chamber, his eldest son being his watcher, 
 the daughter with whom he sta'd was ready late 
 at night to retire, but felt that she must first go 
 and see her father. She went to his room, 
 wbere her brother was lying upon one bed and 
 her father upon another. She asked her 
 brother how her father was, and he said he 
 guessed be was belter, ts he was more quiet. 
 But on looking at the father she saw tha': he was 
 failing; and, on her asking him if she had done 
 all for him that he could expect since he had had 
 a home with her, he said, " Te-J," and then add- 
 ed : " It takes a woman to know 1" I thank 
 God that he has permitted me to hear of such a 
 c mfession from the lips of my liusband in that 
 honest hour. It speaks volumes to me. It tells 
 me that he saw the mistake of a lifetime iu a 
 moment when God had brought him into straits 
 which should compel Lim to look to the Rock 
 higher than himself. Ah ! could I have been 
 with him, and through my ministrations brought 
 back the ebbiug currents of li'e, as in the case 
 of my boy when apparently dying, I doubt not 
 he would have been a converted husband. 1 
 doubt not he is in heaven the spirit of a convert- 
 ed husbiiid. I think h;s own pen recorded the 
 
 proofs of his yielding early to revengeful wrath 
 toward woman. I think he palliated instead of 
 cor.ffssing his own faults, and therefore became 
 blind to them — that he aggravated instead of 
 excusing woman'.s, and therefore laid the founda- 
 tion tor a blind madness toward her. But had 
 there been no intervening obstacles, with what 
 he had gaiiied by past experience, I believe his 
 second marriage would have been happy beyond 
 the average. And although God had wise de- 
 signs to fulfill in suffering his expectations to be 
 disappointed, this excuses no sinful deed by 
 which his heart was turned against the mother- 
 in-law in his house. And so I think in the case 
 of John Brown ; whatever praise comes to God 
 from his wrath, those whose willful or mistaken 
 faults led to that wrath, must repent of their 
 ow^n sins before they can enter the world where 
 wrath can never come. 
 
 "It takes a woman to know 1" IVIiat does it 
 take a woman to know ? How best to dress 
 the fild? rule in the mechanic's or merchant's 
 s'op? minister at the public altar? or stand 
 at the helm of government in town or city. 
 State or nation? No. A new question had 
 come before the mind, of such urgency that, for 
 the time being, it set all other questions aside. 
 It has been told me that Mr. Hamlin Savage (a 
 Christian neighbor) called, and Mr. Little asked 
 him what he thought of his case ; and as Mr. S. 
 studied to reply so as to produce no check to the 
 efforts of the physician who sought to restore 
 health to the mortal man, by saying, "I think 
 you a very sick man, but think I have known 
 persons recover who were as sick as you," the 
 sick man fixed upon him an inquiring gaze, one 
 of the most mtense scratiny ; and after the 
 vi-itor had withdrawn, said to his son: "Mr. 
 Savage thinks I won't get well." Days pass 
 on, divided between hcpe and fear, till at last 
 the written verdict appears. The prisoner is the 
 first to read the sentence of death, for it is first 
 unfolded to the inner man. But as its signs be- 
 cime visible to eyes without, woman is the first 
 to read. Yes it takes a woman to know when 
 and where death begins its work. Satan under- 
 stood woman's physiology when he planned to 
 bring primitive humanity down to death. God 
 understood it when he planned to bring fallen 
 humanity back to life. 
 
 Satan has lost none of his powers of under- 
 standing since that time, and God has lost none of 
 his. I have been permitted to know how the mind 
 which has had its powers concentrated upon the 
 work immediatelj^ before it, so that the past is 
 out of view, can and does, under a burning fever, 
 see the pa*t life at one glance, as much as does 
 the artisr, who lays down his pencil, and steps 
 back from the picture, the individual liues of 
 which have so long fixed his attention, that he 
 may have a view of the whole. I can therefore 
 appreciate, knowing as I do, the history of that 
 d\ing man, the confession from his lips: "It 
 takes a woman to know." 
 
 Let us now take a retrospect, and criticise as 
 we may be able the picture which truth held up 
 in that trying hour to him who had no oppor- 
 tunity to improve by the addition or erasure of a 
 single line. My letter will not allow of my go- 
 irg into extensive detail But a few important 
 particulars will assist to guide the judgment. 
 At the time Mrs. Birge (sister of Mr. Little) 
 
A MOTH Kits PBACK OFFKKINO. 
 
 67 
 
 iDfido iJ« hrr In't vi»it, ow w«>*-k V>*f' r<» Wfr own ' Iho «|i<«i|rn«.r, Ihn miihor aT itll Ih* murmurinir* in 
 d... 
 
 hr 
 hi. : 
 c> 
 
 WtX - --.--- ---- . 
 
 iowino; iliai b« ouco r 
 
 TeU coiiAlraiutd to try . 
 
 nioiiil uuU Dpiritiiul wciiurv' ui 
 
 cbiiJrvn l>y Myiug: "You w»iil 
 
 my chiliirt'u iuio litll, aud thun jump in uu Uk 
 
 of lliimi." 
 
 Siill, uftor sho had paxe- I a a.v u-h,.! i' t! .. r 
 deemed, ho, without c<>' 
 bcKHti to iiKiuire aiUr !■ 
 
 fuuud. Uu 8ol hia fuce ZiuuMard v«ii y o<iUliwUi^ 
 ly ; h'll HM he wnn in>t a nmri in put hi* liHrid to i Thi« i* t 
 tl- ' 
 
 'lim in iho 
 liimM'ir uiid 
 lue to throw 
 
 iiaiidwr. 
 in that 
 to bim, '■ W 
 ho Domed ill 
 
 1.4.VI 
 
 leu Ironi lue error i^l 
 ■' WhiMi a man tm-! 
 a very (.■ 
 norul. itl 
 
 t< 
 
 I axked him tor a yearly porUoii lu etmblu mo lo 
 give wliiu llie vohiiitary KfT'TiiiiiS wtro a>kt;d in 
 the church of which I wait a mfn.ber, he handed 
 nie tivo dollars, wbicli. though 1»ki tliaa the 
 
 tit' ■■ ■- ■ •' - ' • ■'■■ 
 
 Hirniii lh»-m 111)1, ttbii til' 
 
 hit* with «lwolIiiitf in a hi 
 
 a mi)der«lor could H'lt oi', i.:i. 1 
 
 lived, one to the afie of ten. and U.' 
 
 I hy tiio woman wiiose epmi was wrong, or her 
 
 .0 door into the foli he was i judgment not much. Ah I he hn'i iiv-d v> p<^ 
 
 now hcbKtug, liwlore he camo upon a etumbhng- i dehneated mo-t sttikiDgly, in li 
 
 block and rock of offuudo, liappy had it Ken for 
 him. 
 
 For had ho found Christ before loeing his con- 
 
 fi'^ '• -...■.-..• ;- —l . 1 ..v.. y >,,1.. 
 
 lo 
 
 w . , _ 
 
 eowu wi itial dtruclion while buUdiug lii.-t eailhly 
 
 hou'w. !iud as the F^riptufp'' a*f fi*" he mu"t 
 
 ri 
 
 of a cia«s as vanea in tneir motiv> 
 character as in any other order o( ' 
 in secret or optrn nMnociatit'n. A a hu j^rauu'i.: 
 and without oxplannlion withdrosr from me t 
 
 Clmriln--. (i! 
 pray«r fir t 
 
 Ih- •: ' * 
 
 bui 1 beiiuvi' 
 
 1 did not ttiiiik my 
 i?t. I cnly R.^koda pro- i whil 
 
 ••l«. If C..: 
 
 VI- 3 uud to 
 
 1 !i I bad o> •.•r Bii- 
 
 oi[ • i I'l rv I, mi to him, hi. i II :i ' ■•uiir. Ii 
 
 was a prayer for « m»lin)i».''ive spirit. And I 
 
 /lave learned that this i-i -i butt r u-rt \'ui.u i., \.,- 
 
 empowered t^i give. L . 
 
 iu the events of bis pr 
 
 out hia defligna, "Accoid n^ lo your UAh bu it 
 
 unto you," my huebiud seemed to see me to bo > bad tbe aaUafacUoD of living a silent reprover. 
 
 of the Spirit the tlrf>t mollie 
 
 through the ii' : . .ii'^ i: I'lo 
 
 spirit he did : liOl u.s be 
 
 't'tinkfal that :. :' ere ho en- 
 
 r-'d U(K)n an un. o. And now I 
 
 r.o gone over the _ ..oh alTorda vi.vible 
 
 proof of my huahaud'ci ni>>ii< •mania. If his own 
 
 writings and deed*, as sliown above, do rot 
 
 or prove an irrational or a hemou!»ly wicked 
 
 1 i, I am not a di'^vnier of truth. Tnc I;in^r 
 
 • -■■ -.at. I be' — • ■■ ■ ' •• ■ -',1 
 
 one of ihu - 
 
 And I Ik: 
 
 hi.s neigbbora as such. And 1 believe he liiuuKnl 
 
 ho vrn^ doing right in seeking to r«d''es« the 
 
 - he had intlicled up<jn hisi nioilierlewi 
 
 by a second marriage, although he 
 
 ' ' ' to juflice or mercy toward 
 
 le of his house. \Vh<iice, 
 
 . ,: this monomania.'* How far 
 
 -e lay in the fact that in his father's 
 
 ■utc, and in his own, there was a sc- 
 
 c-'iid niarriagp, I can not say, or how far in 
 
 the fact that his own spirit, when very younsr, 
 
 tn undulv provoked t 
 
 • erty. To make mot 
 
 — • tturally, in bi.'« ■ ■ 
 iiing theme. Next < 
 in her weakiiosH, ■ ■< 
 
 great innvids upin the troa.turtnl !ii<>rvH. And 
 h" wait*^, pnd doiio'^i, and feared lo 
 c<': or at least 
 
 u; - choice did 
 
 I. I •' ' ' 1 ' him, art a<« 
 
 to r lovers, and wait in su.v 
 
 he wroto his ■ 
 lod them, and i; - 
 
 >u^ Uic .lauc u tiie home of hi."? wedatu ..:•.; i.c 
 
08 
 
 A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING-. 
 
 Alas ! how costly the Eatisfaction I A few years 
 after my marriage I was visiting with my hus- 
 band, where was present a teacher, (Mr. Sim- 
 mons,) who urged the claims of tlie science of 
 phrenology upon his disciple?. I met him with 
 such objections as then e^cisted in my own mind, 
 and inquired to know the utility of the science, 
 if it were indeed founded in truth. He replied 
 that it might aid parents in guiding the educa- 
 tion of theu' children. I said I sliould probably 
 study my children by observing their native 
 promptings, independent of phrenology, even if 
 I understood the science. The argument closed. 
 But before the evening's visit closed Mr. Sim- 
 mons asked my husband if he ever submitted to 
 examination by a phreuologift. He had not. 
 Mr. S. then said : " As you are chosen to decide 
 the debate at the next meeting of our Lyceum, 
 I have taken the liberty to study your develop- 
 ment a little, and would think tou lacking in the 
 organ that enables to trace effects to their causes, 
 and thus helps to an accurate judgment." I was 
 struck by tbe remark, and lelt somewhat en- 
 lightened in regard to the mystery that hung 
 over my own head. Still, I only laid up the 
 saying in my heart. Last winter, when my boy 
 was in the city, I went with him to Dr. Fowler, 
 and had a written examination of his head. 
 Providence has answered for me the question 
 which I put to Mr. Simmons. The boy must 
 come to an age when he will be guided more or 
 less by his own judgment, though he can not so 
 well observe himself as others. The utility, then, 
 consists in having the counsel of a professional 
 man, who can read his case as his mother does. 
 For, if the boy has in his hereditary nature a te- 
 nacity of opinion and strength of will which will 
 make him remarkable as a man, and is yet easily 
 influenced by persuasion ; has a strong affection 
 for his mother, yet finds it difficult to honor her 
 opinion, and withal has his dwelling in a com- 
 munity where the popular voice (blended with 
 silent workit'gs) has put down the mother's 
 opinion " very low," it is surely well to have 
 htlp, so that in the mouth of two or three wit- 
 nesses, every word of truth may be established, 
 ere the child shall have blindly committed him- 
 self to an opinion, the consequences of which are 
 to be important and lasting to himself and house, 
 I am thiukful that I was permitted to take away 
 the silver I carried to my married home, and 
 leave it in pawn till I should bo able to pay the 
 s'ranger whose counsel came to the stricken and 
 widowed mother in a lime of need. While Dr. 
 Fowler was telling Charlie the things which I 
 knew of his peculiar nature, it occurred to me 
 that it might aid me in my attempts to guide 
 him against opposing obstacles in the way of 
 riglit, to have my own phrenological character 
 written. And it was done. Of this I will speak 
 hereaiter. 
 
 I will stop now to tell you, that as I have pur- 
 sued my work of writing, time has pursued his 
 flight, and this page finds me at a point in his 
 cycle bearing date No'/emher 22d, 1860. I con- 
 tinued in my home at Miller's Hotel till the 
 frosts of autumn admonished me to depait. Then 
 having found a friend in the person of the Ex- 
 Committee man who first installed me teacher of 
 the institution which taught me to read, who 
 bought my notes against Mr. D. K. Savage, and 
 
 cashed the first, I came to New- York, hired a 
 furnished room near the Putnam House, oppo- 
 site the railroad depot, where I can resort daily 
 to a ladies' dining- saloon, and be served by a 
 very pleasant young lad to what food my neces- 
 sities require, by paying what i^. is worth. Take 
 care of my room and person, afcer ordering coal 
 and kindlings, having ascertained that servants 
 can be had if I shall fail so as to need them. 
 Can ride the whole route of Fourth Avenue cars 
 for five cents, walk then a few blocks on Fulton 
 street, and attend the world-renowned prayer- 
 meeting, and return at the same charge. Am 
 one mile from tlie temple dedicated to science 
 and art by Peter Cooper, (now a resident of the 
 city,) where the disciples may congregate at any 
 hour from 9 a.m. to 10 p.m., without mor ey or 
 price, on condition only of good behavior, and 
 of being under the care of parent or guardian, if 
 under fourteen years of age, to a "feast of fat 
 things," served up in the reading-room, picture- 
 gallery, musical, mathematical, philosophical, or 
 chemical classes, lecture-room, or cheiniats' la- 
 boratory. May walk the spacious halls, or broad 
 and solid stairways, and ft-el as much at home as 
 upon the sidewalks of town or city. This build- 
 ing, too, being in the line of Fourth Avenue cars, 
 is readily reached when I can not walk. Another 
 delightful resort to which T have access is the 
 Central Paik, where a pleasant day may be 
 passed amid beautiful scenery, with the e^e lost 
 to city scenes, the journey thither costing six 
 cents. And lastly, the churches. Yes, New- 
 York churches. 
 
 I once spent six months where I did not know 
 of a prayer to God being offered within six 
 miles of me, except in the closet, and that closet 
 consisting of the secret chambers of the soul, or 
 the 
 
 " Bower where the pine and tlie poplar have spread 
 Aud wove, with their branches, a roof o'er my head." 
 
 Over our head, I should say, for God had left me 
 one who should accompaDy ma in all thos-e jour- 
 ney mgs. While there, my lips, one dny, seemed 
 touched as wita a live coal from off G-od'a altar, 
 as my heart burst out in ttie stanza : 
 
 " The Lord of glory is my liglit, 
 And my salvation, too ; 
 God is my strength, nor will I fear 
 What all my foes can do." 
 
 That stanza was my daily song. I had with me 
 no hymn-book, and recollecttd no mose. But 
 while spending the winter in my secluded moun- 
 tain home, the following stanza became my 
 prayerful song: 
 
 " One privilege my heart desires, 
 Oh ! grant me an abode 
 Among the churclies of thy saints, 
 The temples of my God." 
 
 And that prayer is being answered. Yes, I 
 have been spared to recover strength, before I 
 go hence, and to taste something of the joy the 
 ancient prophets must have felt when the temple 
 at Jerusalem stood in its grandeur, and its .state- 
 liness, inviting the waiting assembly on holy day. 
 I live alone, and being nobo'iy's wife or daughter 
 or sister or teacher, I can go forth in the garb of 
 a servant, aud offend no one; for servants are 
 permitted to go in the public ways and into the 
 churches. And then the alliance of the churches 
 
A MUTHEKS I'KAf'K OFFKKING. 
 
 09 
 
 to carry llio gnotl \i •.:■•> i.i" riilccrni'K' 1 .m' into ■. •mil L'i."i tu vi''ir (-'"tcr Aiiin'o L'T Bw Ptutc 
 tlio Inrii'H ami l»v' 
 
 ofllie' .'U luivo UM;w<.d .' 1 .ti.^Acr, L^ 
 
 No. M oi is tn i.t>t nil iiR T '.iHo of .'iveu back avon a tithe of tbc irra- 
 
 !■'■ ■ . - .. ,-■ 
 
 I i me Uio tir*t hour he mw or heard of me: 
 
 UOl lor ijvitii; BO nlluuicii liiikl 1 Citti Ti Ui.'rtl iVolll MRS. T<. J. LiTTLR : VOU an* cllii' 
 
 tho Initnr nl nnv mo'n'>!»t wli"n 1 f"ol o'lmon- nii >in<i«iiiil do>rr«« of imlnslrv. \ 
 
 tuun. 
 
 lllCIV . 
 
 ! id. Yes; tiio joy ol' the ; 
 
 u. tho law of tho Lord my •. 
 
 wiicliicr lii.ii law I'O found apoa tlio in-pirtJ 
 
 intfn. or iu tlie flold of nature or nrovidt-Do.*. 
 
 .ui and to 
 • nil tho V 
 
 1 1 I 1 will I . ■ I 1 
 
 tho hodv no as tu 
 
 lie ui tliitlU. VuU tliU^l 
 
 ;irt<! iini-ic (ifin rT>*>»»i'> to 
 
 t. 
 
 FoJT_> .' 1 i. 
 
 Htand hIdiio ;. 
 
 ft" 
 
 . lit UpCU 
 
 iin«t tlin V. 
 
 hud iiuiiiiii;,' Iroiii iii.i lulu«;r ? ' nnd ii!< uiy iutunif 
 uni i^. truo, tlio answer wn9, " N> : t!if>rf> we«» fif- 
 teen liandred dollars W' ■> 
 have." >'o\v I have to 
 
 of • -•.,.. 
 
 never had so mucM irom ii'a laf 
 
 •IMirt'T"? pir .;' .Ti-.-nrv, \<^C,. ac 
 
 .1 ' -Venr's i<r^.M.!i;, i,a 
 
 11 .» pillow, u penny, 
 
 w I held was not bis father's to 
 
 V ! ■ ■' ••'•■ :• ' • • '• " • did not 
 
 k: lt the 
 
 w me in 
 
 CJCchilu^l• iur laat piAwr. i He Utu) gave it to 
 me. Tnankfl f>r n l-d-I^t'on hi<">.l ijpon l!i«> 
 Scripture, Ki\ 
 VC!B«.l. It w 
 
 bi-rs should I . II 11 
 
 would buvo ■ : 10 war 
 
 ii^aiiist the i. -. An- 
 
 other inquiry baa been n ot that clasa 
 
 which ii at liberty to i^r-t"'- r la- 
 
 tion$ and their workings in (.\.tu:iiUi. 
 an old nurse who did not lire iu .'^ .'. 
 
 ll ViJvi Ufc l^iiii 
 
 •at amount of \ 
 .1 you hud 
 Vou are i 
 
 1, and 
 
 ..le, and too 
 ' - ' • V . .i: ely enough 
 
 >3 of your own 
 ■io.-. You^reverj' 
 ptTsfVtring, cvctuUiiigly unacious of your pur- 
 poses, and strict in adhering to your priixiplps; 
 are naturally just, honest and > ' 
 You may be led astray by your j ■ i 
 
 otherwise you are very ('—' * ' 
 to. You are naturally r« i 
 
 tone of moral !..liii_' , . . , '" 
 
 tbetic and U : 
 
 You are <| . copy and draw and do 
 
 dinVrcnt kinds ui" v^Lrk. 
 
 You arc rLflno<l and elevated in your feelings, 
 and have a L;. ' ": ' - - ".. 
 
 You are vor i 
 
 of style. Vou eiijov oruu.ry alino-;, m v\- c».-«, 
 
 nnd have wishetl many a time that you enwld t)>r 
 
 : .? bo a man and make a njM^vch. 
 
 ig, thinking intellect ha.s the as- 
 
 You are much more interested in t 
 
 addfiss your philosophy thnu thoe« • '< 
 
 your perception. 
 
 Your ni -morv of »>v»»nt« is p^^r. 1»nt yo:ir mem- 
 ory of I 1 
 ficuliv : 
 
 kn .. :,.. ... 
 
 bfcauso 1 ir to my 
 
 kindnxl and - ive my 
 
 work. Of this c'lofKO 1 iiavc only U» my, I went 
 to nir kiiidrrwl wtmn too weak to do for mvsolf 
 
 II' 
 
 tcv ; 
 
 ties there, at. 
 health. An> 
 
 soon for 
 . d to me: ' 
 
 1" 
 
 111 
 
 u; 
 
 
 .iigvUjj^joa iiivui^ vcrbi«.iy or 
 
 C : 
 ical. 
 
 
 , . _. , ., ^ 
 
 . and yoa enjoy fun; cspec ally if 
 
 ae. 
 
A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 You have a great amount of energy, but you 
 have not a constitution equal to it. You need 
 more of the influence of destructiveness, but your 
 combaliveness is very active, and jou do not al- 
 low any obstacle to remain long in your way. 
 
 You are very devoted to your friends ; few 
 are more so, and as a wife you were exclusive 
 in your love, and you can not well love but one, 
 for you can not forget your first love. 
 
 Your sense of purity in aflection is one of the 
 leading features in your character. 
 
 You have very strong attachment to children, 
 and are not only interested in them as such, but 
 are interested in their welfare and moral im- 
 provement. You are much attached to one 
 place. You make many friends and lose none. 
 Your power over others is threefold — it comes 
 first through the aflections ; secondly, through 
 your sympathies ; and. thirdly, through your in- 
 tellect. You would have excelled as a teacher, 
 and had a good influence over your pupils. 
 
 You must strive to be more lazy, loss thought- 
 ful and ambitious, and take life more easily ; be 
 out-doors what you can, but avoid nervous ex- 
 citability. 
 
 Said an intellectual friend, in looking over tlie 
 dei^cription : "There is one statement that does 
 not suit your character — a lack of self-reliance." 
 
 But I assured her I knew it to be in my na- 
 ture ; and that what in my history looks like 
 self-reliance is God-reliance. Yes, if I am not 
 destined to fall before the host that to-day think 
 of me as a self-deceived, or cunning woman, 
 feigning the weakness I plead as an excuse for 
 not going to work after the fashion of my strong 
 townswomen, it, will be for the same reason that 
 David did not fall before Goliath of the Philis- 
 tines. 
 
 I have often said to my friends: " My call to 
 duty lies in making the most of a little. A little 
 school education, a little language, a little money, 
 a little strength, and a little name." To be faith- 
 ful in tlie few things God gives me is my duty, 
 and leave the rule with hicn to distribute, after 
 his own good pleasure. I have nothing that I 
 have not received. My greatest gift is a large 
 experience. An experience that has come from 
 asking in faith for that understanding which is a 
 well-spring of life ; and now that its gurglings are 
 in my heart, nothing can oflend mo. Nothing 
 shall be able to separate me from the love of 
 God. Some of my friends have in years past 
 disputed me when I said that my gift in lan- 
 guage is small. I have simply enough to pour 
 forth from the weU-spring of the he;irt as I feel 
 called upon. By and by my lips wiU be sealed, 
 and my pen descended to my heirs, and then I 
 shall need no language of words. Notiiing can 
 pass the " dark valley " but the heart's treasures. 
 
 One inquiry has pressed upon my m nd ever 
 since I came tbrth from the chamber where my 
 first-born met her unprecedented fate. And that 
 has been, "Wliat shall I do before I go hence, to 
 prevent little children from suftering the abuses 
 which have come into my house? The abuses 
 to the children of the living moiher, in separating 
 them from their earthly father's favor, and the 
 greater abuses to the children of the deceased 
 mother, in separating them from the favor of 
 their mother's God, their own heavenly Father. 
 Now I feel called upon to come out from my 
 
 seclusion, and present to the children of this 
 generation the martyr of the nineteenth century, 
 whose dying agonies say to the spirit that kin- 
 dleth .the coals of strife and separateth chief 
 friends : Put up now thine avenging sword. 
 Leave vengeance to Him to whom it belongeth. 
 Be subject to the powers that be, that are or- 
 dained of God. If those powers allow the mas- 
 ter of the household to possess a wife by a 
 second marriage, if the former be removed by 
 death, or to possess a man-servant or a maid- 
 servant, understand that it is not contrary to the 
 law, given amid the thunderings of Sinai, that he 
 should do it ; but it is contrary to that law that 
 one should bear fal?e witness against that neigh- 
 bor; or covet, or steal, or kill any thing that is 
 his ; or incite any member of his household to 
 refuse to honor its head. 
 
 I do not propose to enter the field of public 
 strife with any other than a healing potion for its 
 wounded victims. As a teacher, I claim nothing 
 higher than the Prmiarj Department. Into that 
 department I am permitted to bring the law of 
 the Lord, and to show that its violation brings 
 death, just as surely if we violate it ignorantly 
 as willfully. But death will be more bitter, in 
 proportion as we had opportunity to know, and 
 chose ignorance for the sake of cleaving to a 
 darling opinion or practice. Now, if there be 
 any sons of men who would come to me for sim- 
 ple teaching, while their government lies in other 
 hands than mine, I will, in this letter, give them 
 my opinion, the same as I gave to the youngest 
 of my mother's sons, once my subject, but now 
 master of his own house. And when I have 
 done this, I will leave the matter, as I think he 
 has wisely done. He said to me, after compar- 
 ing our opinions: "I propose that j'ou and I wait 
 ten years from this seventh day of October, 
 1860, before we again discuss the slavery ques- 
 tion." This brother is not fully committed, but 
 has, like others of his class, a great deal to weigh 
 which comes through the public prints and 
 speeches. 
 
 My own education consisted in being taught 
 to read, and then left to search alone for my au- 
 thor's thoughts. My system of teaching was an 
 improvement of my own invention, (althougli ex- 
 isting out of my sight,) in which I not only taught 
 my pupils to read, but assisted them, as fast as 
 they read, to make their author's thoughts their 
 own. Here Mes my present argument. God is 
 the author of the Scriptures, as well as the au- 
 thority for all government. In the last com- 
 mandment of his, written by his own finger upon 
 tables of stone, (emblems of perpetuity,) he has 
 given a most accurate and beautiful pattern of a 
 house. St. Paul, under the Gospel, has given it 
 grace, and Jesus in his new commandment brings 
 that without which every house is cheerless. 
 Never m as there, since national existence was 
 formed, a nation so dependent upon the carrying 
 out of the pattern found in the Scriptures in tlie 
 individual or family houses which compose the 
 mass, aa is the national body of the United 
 States. Now, I do not believe there is any more 
 oppression in the sight of God in those States 
 which we caU dave States than in those called 
 non-slaveholdiyig. But, alas 1 there is a great deal 
 too much in both. And it arises from haste of 
 spirit, and attempting to climb up to honor and 
 stability in some other way than by the pattern 
 
A MOTIIEKS PEACE OFFERIXr, 
 
 71 
 
 I; 
 
 'Thnn shnlt ni». mrrt thy nf^^r'-HT** ' jvn'H. Hf rrtTj^t b<? n prf-tfr p^w! twi'l'T, even 
 
 K 
 
 or r.> • 
 
 in to I 
 
 one, II 
 
 thi-n n 
 
 am, <i- t 
 
 and |iii)' tur vncii wlml tiit-y iirv wurln. liu cati 
 
 not par f>r t!ie virl'in-w wontfin wh«t fh*» !•• 
 
 worth, >i 
 
 It 13 u 
 
 J..-,- - 
 
 h 
 'ml. 
 
 nod !i;i 
 
 which n)akc man the property of bia fellovr. 
 
 ject to • 
 
 I"' 
 
 81" 
 
 U) bitii. 
 tico. I 
 osaembly. 
 py. If hell 
 
 ' p ll'lIC JU3- 
 
 '. ruler of ati 
 TO hap- 
 This 
 ...- Where 
 (or tho op- 
 ill th- 0:inl.: 
 
 he wiii do npht,ithougii he sulVor Uuir fa 
 pationr" tn h-> Inrp tri'd. Kv-^rj* r^y 
 
 '•: I 'T an ;i':j' .ruiu 
 '" lo com J uic opiu- 
 
 will iu that 
 
 -( which now 
 Hupport it. I>ul whurv nboll il,bu rvtnored ? Shall 
 it descend to their leml h<^'n« ? or shall it be 
 plucked up and i- ^ of the aea ? 
 
 Tho I^rd gnmt it 
 
 Tills can only bv « ..■ i > ■! > '" ' ti- 
 
 niuiiion of htarls. In ton V' ^ 
 
 man. and w<ininn too. now »]:■ t- 
 
 )f like a green ba_\ -tree, sl;all hav< : 
 'TV mnv br> pn^i^Vt. \-a thrv i~::': ■ i. 
 
 wLlch 
 . -st con- 
 
 di.«:*ulv»;vl. i 
 
 gvstom of hi 
 
 (iod l.ati iiii>;iiuud a 
 and I belinvft tliat n'> 
 
 >1 is the i ' 
 
 as that 
 
 Icai'nUig wuiild briug tiieiu iulu a hglil wliicli 
 
 should rppruvo their d""'^ — d'X'da by whidi 
 
 ivo drawn » >h 
 
 ■^ Wfflk i: 4 
 
 A 
 
 V<. i^ Wwil ilL-< 
 
 fi. . l» L'R'lier ir 
 
 V . 1 -ay : •• \'\. . 
 slavery, now that 
 
 p,,.. ... : A .^ . ... 
 
 La 
 
 II iiiiii.-''. i.ji.'i a wido j more: for the crafty have to deal witii a <»o«i 
 rt' 1 tr.-n.-oiri'S. ) who mctos unto tlem -M tli-y ri>«'a«'!'« nnto 
 
 .r opinion of (others. When tl- I 
 
 Yea, I iiiav I that unto the cr ■ 
 
 )Iy tjrut view was at the Mar^ 
 
 vunii (!; : and next in tVie 
 
 gr. It city. T* 
 
 ill ■: and l:l^ 
 
 Si. i>. 
 
 slave V. 
 
 me froa; . 
 
 of Mi^ haxtcT, a liu^Unco oi 
 
 down thi-< St. J h.'-; river. \ 
 
 some in place, and prtiliiiiiirly 
 
 about \ i found Ji:n very wvll 
 
 »yo. 1 . 
 
 miiid. 
 
 '\f and 
 1 
 
A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 a merely human production. This belief enters 
 iuto the veiy depths of niy conscience. The 
 whole history of man proves it." — Daniel Web- 
 ster. 
 
 Now if we turn to the Sermon on the Mount, 
 we find the Preacher (not " merely human") 
 closing thus: ''Therefore, whosoever heareth 
 these sayings of mino and cloeth them, I will liken 
 liim unto a wise man, which built his house upon 
 a rock: and the rain descended, and the floods 
 came, and the winds blew and beat upon that 
 house ; and it fell not : for it was founded upon a 
 rock. 
 
 " And every one that heareth these sayings of 
 mine aud doeth them not, shall be likened unto a 
 foolish man, which built his house upon the sand : 
 and the rain descended, and the floods came, and 
 the winds blew, and beat upon that house ; and 
 it fell : and great was the fall of it." 
 
 One of these sayings, namely, " But I say 
 unto you that ye resist not evil,'' has been per- 
 verted by sympathizers with motherless children 
 and African servants. Instead of taking to them 
 the truth that children and servants are to honor 
 those whom God has placed over them, in the 
 fear of the Loid. trusting him to make all work 
 for theii good, they have been taught to search 
 for occasion to res'st them as evil-doers ; and God 
 k'lows how many of those whose unsubdued 
 tempers are the plague of themselves, their fami- 
 lies, neighborhoods, and churches even, may 
 riji;hteously trace the cause to this unrighteotcs 
 sympathy. 
 
 Another saying of our more than human 
 Preacher closes in this raaunf r : " Take, therefore, 
 no thought for the morrow : for the morrow shall 
 take thought for the things of itself. Sufflcient 
 unto the day is the evil thereof." 
 
 It was this undue thought for to-morrow 
 whicli led the father of my Mary to deny to her 
 the servant needed in the hour of weakness aud 
 pain. An»1 when she awoke as from a death- 
 sleep, and received strength, through his strong 
 hand taking hers aftectionately in his own to 
 raise her hand to his lips in silent prayer for only 
 a ki:-s of aftlction, his heart of stone was turned 
 to fltsh. Yet was his mind in darkness. And 
 wherefore this darkness ? Says the Preacher we 
 .ve quoting: " If thine eye be evil, thy whole 
 body shall be full of darkness. If, therefore, the 
 litrht that is in thee be darkness, how great is 
 that darkness!" Put, what proof that the eye of 
 Mary's father was evil? When I accompanied 
 mj^ husband to Franklin, the place of his early 
 abode, (in September, 1840,) as we were pass- 
 ing over a niountainous road, he recalled and re- 
 lated to me a scene of his early lite, the thoughts 
 of which still afforded him satisfaction. 
 
 He said that when a young man, living in 
 Connecticut, he had occasion to go West one 
 autumn. A poor widow of his acquaintance 
 owned a horse whi':-h she could not afford to 
 keep through the winter, and thinking he miciht 
 self it for her to a better advantage at the West 
 than she could do at home, she ofl'ered him tlie 
 privilege of riding it, if he would put it off for her 
 as well as he could. When he reached the place 
 where he related to me the circumstance, he met 
 a stranger of whom he made some inquiries, and 
 finding that he wished to purchase the horse, 
 struck a bargain, and exchanged the horse (or 
 the stranger's watch, and what money he had, 
 
 amounting in all to something more than twenty 
 dollars. When he returned to Connecticut, he 
 called on the widow and as^ked her to set a price 
 to her horse, which she declined doing. He 
 waited a long while, and several times solicited 
 the widow to name a price, but in vain. He 
 then hit upon the expedient of 'getting six dol- 
 lars in fifiy-cent pieces, and talcing it to her as 
 the pay for the horse. She took it, and seemed 
 pleased. 
 
 n,id he known the Scriptures, and the power 
 of God, as every American young man should 
 know them, he might have avoided underpinning 
 his own stately home with that which looked so 
 much like devouiing a widow's house, by taking 
 such a commission from the weak woman who 
 confided in Ids candor. God seeth not as man 
 seeth, when vengeance against an evil work is 
 not executed speedily. He had taken care that 
 that seed-sowing should bring its harvest into 
 his own home — when he, through contemning in- 
 stead of honoring woman in proportion as she 
 was weaker than himself, had reared an instru- 
 ment by wdiich the woman of his own approba- 
 tion should be robbed of his heart and his home ; 
 and he, living with houses and lands and money 
 at his command, a solitary man, an exile from 
 human or divine sympathy, a prisoner beneath 
 the broad canopy of heaven, in darkness concera- 
 iug wherefore God contended with him. 
 
 A friend whom I highly esteem has said to 
 me: " Mrs. Little, I think it the strangest thing 
 in the world that you can be so attached to 
 Sheffield." 
 
 I have seen much in ShefQeld at which Jesus 
 would say, "Be angry," but through learning 
 of him not to let the sun go down upon my 
 wrath, I have been able to keep my eye so clear, 
 as to perceive that Sheffield is no more inferior 
 to her sister towns in Beikshire county, than is 
 Berkshire count}' inferior to her sister counties 
 m Massachusetts, or than is Massachusetts in- 
 ferior to her sister States in the Union, or than 
 is our Union of States inferior to the sister na- 
 tions of the earth ; or than is the house to which 
 my Mary was allied, inferior to the average houses 
 of the land. From the Scripture truth th.nt jndg- 
 ment must begin at the house of God, I think 
 that I may claim for my house aijd my town 
 superiority. But Sheffield is a branch of the 
 body politic which is yet j'oung. And " child- 
 hood and youth are vanity." Yet are they not 
 to be despised. Ohl no. The glory and hope 
 of the world rest upon our children and youth. 
 What we need is, that the foolishness naturally 
 bound up in the heart of the child, should, by 
 some wholesome discipline, be driven from him, 
 before the government of houses, towns. States, 
 or nations devolves upon him; and if, unfortu- 
 nately, any have inherited or usurped these re- 
 sponsibilities who were not chastened betimes, 
 that they should be converted. But how difficult 
 for man to be born again when he is old, espe- 
 cially if he have long willed to be rich. Here is 
 a case impossible for human instrumentality to 
 effect. but nothing is impossible with God. 
 Let us then stand in awe, when God lays his 
 hand heavily upon our strong men who trust in 
 riches. 
 
 Perhaps there is a larger class in Sheffield than 
 the average, who h^ve obtained the greater gain 
 than riches — "srodliness, with contentment;" 
 
A MUTUKH.S PKACK OFKEKISO, 
 
 \vUo6o liearU are bODMt, handsi (li!'/<'t'.'. aii<I 
 hcutU wiflu in Uivir owu biiAiucs*; ' 
 
 tifv pif»>i«",ir<' til' 
 
 unwue in that 
 
 thuniSflviH, 
 
 tliotumlves, i 
 
 tut 
 
 ni 
 
 ki 
 
 at 
 
 CI 
 
 lu. 
 
 1 
 
 lliey, 1 ii. 1 '.'. ,1 ii 1 oiii '.1, ;iii'i i 
 
 for not iloi.ij; more. In ihit), 
 
 thxivT with our niator Sttitcs, w 
 
 dilTtTcnl Iruui Utal of ih-ir «' 
 
 Bcrvntor in tlicir brttlirou of • 
 
 luinu from niy Duighborit. ^1 
 
 I conW »lo (w>nio tliiniTH wliit ■ 
 
 III. : 
 
 kh 
 
 Hot, ..... . .. 
 
 S'letlitld i- . fruit- ' 
 
 ful field. O! I ■ is an 
 
 appropriation lor tiie nupport of u liutnw for lier 
 poor. Tl)f"r"ff-rf* f cnn never p'> cm/y t!i'«^'ieh 
 feuroftl 
 hs I V3it. 
 
 it; nnd .;.■■;;. a..- 
 
 or of II I know \\ : 
 
 eioM 1 ■. • V I'f law. - - 
 
 bii' :kli that liio iaw nsked 
 
 at . : » f the poor. I do not ' 
 
 coLcviVt) ludl il will bo any hurdi-r for one who 
 hoH alAiiv!) Rtrivon to dn rivht in tlio siglit of 
 G> ' ■ ' ' 180, than it 
 
 w !i. I do not 
 
 ti.ii... . ....,■.,„., ,. J,... s house ao 
 
 DOW laiiiciitiog in heaven that t ley over went I 
 thera I 8Upj oso that if I ever get to the homo ] 
 for the poor, there will ho no strong hand Inid , 
 upon m-* Ut IjoM in" from e"incr nt-fvirl t.> iiihal" ' 
 iU- 
 ot 
 
 iu< 
 
 b" .A .....■■ V : 
 
 dobt^ by c^'nlfact, siiail no'. exce'i my mraiis, 
 before I niako an assignmen' nf t'M«o means to 
 those whom I htive pron 
 
 I havo lost nono of nr. 'he bencvo- 
 
 loi.* ■■■■ . . ,. - 
 
 tl . 
 
 I'f-'- ■ • • ' -' 
 
 wl.cn 1 I stea to the miMionary w: 
 
 twenty rt''' "^r-'iT^ ,in K.i>:tir:i Af-i - 
 
 hear hi < i u..>i {^.o- 
 
 pie whi -1, niid nmn 
 
 ih ■ : 
 
 I.HTIOSJ IV. 
 
 On the 12th April. 18G0. IweDtr-tb'eo ycara 
 
 . ... .1 . .1 .. 1 .1 I tl (,...;,. 
 
 i 
 
 .1 ttie carUi 
 ■* with wltlier«<l Icare* and OowerlFti •Ulk*." 
 
 tiio abode ol man. 1 kUkkI wiieu- liii! 
 - n. when hlrdJKbt<:ir-<l by my lund. 
 '. I pluck, 
 ii-bod. I 1 
 
 p., 
 pia. 
 bk* haild. 1 rL-^i>l«..i ill grtrd. lia ol bio<.'Ui.U^ 
 
 ro««>«, t'«ianiuniiJ, verlxnaa, and their kindred 
 
 i by the tulluri-si'jj hand. I went 
 
 foreflt and saw llic »lld (lower 
 
 iirouglit me uud r an opprt-Miuti i iuuK«.-d uut 
 for, and my heart said to God : " Il is jiood for 
 me ttial I have been afHicted, for now have I 
 learned thy law." Yen, I rtjoiced with joy im- 
 speakable and full of glory. 
 
 I couM ticarly soe. as a rewilt of that iiiiion. 
 that my i. ■-»..!. I u- ts then U.o sp'rit of a Ivciler 
 man in i v world, ai d myself a beasr 
 
 woman i y. Aod I doubled not that 
 
 when all iho cviitU.ued, and ever mult. plying in- 
 Hijfn(v>s of Marv's lif»< and dca'h in the strone 
 
 join With mo 
 
 and for h 8 W' : 
 
 men. 
 
 I have not loit my intertal in the welf-re of 
 the moiherloiw childr n. I am i • 
 
 and know that ihey Rre bt 
 
 ver ti.e nv 
 t ) then II' 
 Jci.ov.io !r^<iu ihfcijo wor.ls: " !•• 
 that T am (iod." It was that ; 
 
 h. 
 
 lo . 
 li;. 
 
 is now oy ^uicioui act; unU Ui^il nere Oivy may 
 hear of Jesus who invit« s the weary and heavy- 
 ladfD lo come to him for rest. 
 " God si>otd the right." 
 
 u> bv rvpt^iit'-o vi, locii lht*ir iii-'U>tir'<> prttvcrd to 
 God, and t> tho woTun who wn» lo 8ii.<H'«d her, 
 will hav,- vid in 
 
 tears wil 
 
 1 — ■! 
 
 w.' 
 
 vvi _ 
 
 louitiy than did Hip mau wiioni 1 iii.r 
 
 as he dealt to ihetu iu retail trade. 1- 
 
74 
 
 A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 found more regular and temperate in their habits, 
 or more prompt and punctual in deal. Therefore 
 did he transmit to his heirs a natural capacitv 
 for beinsf greatly good. It only remains that 
 this heritage be sanctilied by tlio word of God 
 and prayer, to secure to him a seed like Jacob's, 
 in which t'le nations of the earth shall be 
 blessed. 
 
 He never, but once, interfered in my govern- 
 ment of my chiWren, aijd th^it was only to say: 
 " You must be c 'refid how j'oa treat that child, 
 ( Mary,) or I shnll take her from you " Oh ! how 
 big -with prophetic meaning was every word of 
 tbat sentence ! Bat now I view him in a light 
 which shows him that all Scripture is profitable 
 to furnish us thoroughly for our work on earth; 
 that it is good to bear the burden in south; that 
 it is the parent who refuses to correct, that hates 
 his child ; and that no man can iiate ids wife, and 
 not hate his own flesh. I view my Mary, who 
 said to Miss Julia Roys, " No one knows what I 
 suffer. It seems to me that my father does not 
 ctre as much for me as for his other children;" 
 in the presence of One who ever knew what and 
 why she suffered, and wh'^re f^he no longer 
 doubts the love of her earthly father ; for who 
 hath much lorgiven the sime loveth muco — I 
 TieiV her as speaking to me ni the language of 
 the poet : 
 
 " I walk 'mill the palm-trees, 
 
 And drink of the rills, 
 That on earth are but types 
 
 Of what God here fulfills. 
 The joys of my childhood. 
 
 How dim they appear ! 
 Tes, dim are the brightest, 
 
 When loolied on from here. 
 
 " Then stay not, then mourn not, 
 
 Then yield not to fears ; 
 The flowers love hath planted. 
 
 Oh ! steep not in tears. 
 There's beauty, there's blessing. 
 
 On earth left for thee ; 
 But bid me not share them ; 
 
 There's more here with me." 
 
 Not only were my eyes feasted with the beau- 
 ties April 12th yielded, on Florida soil, but my 
 worn nerves were soothed as with a pleasant 
 opiate, by inhahng a Florida aimosphere ; and / 
 assisted thereby to accomplish that almost impos- 
 sible th ng for me, •' take life easily, or be lazy." 
 In the mouth of two or three witnesses, qualified 
 to judge, may a truth be established. My mother 
 and my phrenologist agree with me that the se- 
 verest school of my life, independent of outward 
 forces, has been to bend my luill. to labor down to 
 my power. While under ray mother, I had the 
 wise counselor, but when I s-iid to my husband, 
 "I would gladly have prepared something in ad- 
 dition for dinner, had I been able," and he con- 
 temptuously replied, "I see no inability to do 
 any thing you tiave a disposition to do," I knew 
 better than he could know, how hard had been 
 the struggle to obtain the disposition to say ; 
 God's will, and n)t mine be done. Had he had 
 faith in me, as when he manied me, he might 
 have believed a truth he could not see. With 
 my tendency to excess, I had attained to the age 
 of twenty-eight years without receiving a pre- 
 scrip'ion from a physician's hand ; and have no 
 recollection of evt-r taking so much medicine as 
 a cathartic, till twenty years of age, when my 
 mother administered a potion of rhubarb to re- 
 
 lieve the neuralgia, produced by over-exortion, 
 during the third summer of my teacher labors. 
 There is a day coming when it will appear how 
 great lias been the cost in money to my husband's 
 house, (setting aside physical suffering and that 
 of the wounded spirit,) for attempting to place 
 me in circum.'tances that shotild compel me to 
 work. Tlie first summer of my htisband's ab- 
 sence from me, in a letter to our boy, under date 
 of 24th August, 1849, he asks: 
 
 " What does your mother find to do this sum- 
 mer? Is she pretty industrious?" 
 
 I will give to the reader an answer to that in- 
 quiry in another section of this chapter. 
 
 Another advantage I enjoyed on Florida soil, 
 was that of calling upon a strong servant to im- 
 part power to my right arm, when I felt its 
 strength partially withered, by rubbing it with a 
 foreign hand, until it seemed restored whole as the 
 other. Here was explained to me the law by 
 which Mary's hand arose to her father's lips in 
 silent praj^er for that last kiss, in the hour when 
 he commenced to weep bitterly. By this service 
 I gained a power which has enabled me to teil, 
 through the pen. the truths God has led me to 
 learn, by communing with him in prayer, and 
 studying his word, his works, and his ways. 
 
 But Florida, with its beauties in March and 
 April, and its balmy air, wafting the porhime of 
 the sweet jessamine and the orange-blossom, 
 has, in common with all other lands in and out 
 of Christendom, its fallen, suffering humanity. 
 And I am compelled to say that the scene which, 
 of all others there, took hold of my heart's deep- 
 est sympathies, was a company of' emancipated 
 negroes. Their master had died, and their wid- 
 owed mistress had taken up her abode in the city, 
 and left them with a piece of naked land, to draw 
 from it their sustenance in the worn-out stage of 
 life. Tlie only complaint of a hard fate which 
 fell upon my ear from negro lips, wms from one 
 of thes-'. And when the desolate motlier spoke 
 of her children away, I told her that I too was a 
 mother; that death had taken from me one of 
 my chilli ren, and that I was a thousand miles 
 from the other; but I could still pray God to 
 IJess him. Then this mother asked mo to pray 
 for her. Such a request never fell upon my ear 
 from negro lips at the North, much as I have la- 
 bored for and with them. But at the time I, 
 with others, publicly professed faith in Christ, 
 there stood in the same company a negro, (Har- 
 mon Cooley,) who, a few years later, died so tri- 
 umphantly in the Gospel faith, that Dr. Ticknor 
 of Salisbury, Ct., (an old and professedly pious 
 physician,) was heard to say that he would give 
 the world to hive his hopes of heaven as bright 
 as were Harmon Cooley's. Yet I was told that 
 Harmon Cooley was a bond-servant (slave) in 
 early life, and never learned to read the printed 
 page. Let the man whom God has made a negro 
 be lionored as such. Let the foolishness bound 
 in his heart at the birth, be driven from it in early 
 life, and let him read animate instead of iiiaaimate 
 characters (for so has God endowed him) while 
 he W'U'ks willingly with his hands; and look to 
 God instead of man to explain why he was made 
 a little lower than the order of intelligent beings 
 who are ordained to be masters in American 
 houses. It is said of Sheffield that her propor- 
 tion of negro population is greater than almost 
 any other town at the North. I have labored in 
 
A MOTIIEKS PEACE OFFKKIN<i. 
 
 to 
 
 lif r T 
 
 Wll. 
 
 iippoiut; aud to hu name bo all tbe glory. 
 
 •an.- 
 
 tioD. t.c(. .-. ., 
 
 Whiloof all th 
 
 11. 
 
 
 who d{K>8 not iii'i- r..i.!, i," .- ai.niii'T --wi'ii <x- 
 
 KKCTIO.S V. 
 
 CT'ptiOU. 1 
 
 
 ,<..-!♦' !l,..r .,<■ 1,,^; .), iM.r t., T \f -J 
 
 I w II. 1. now turn II. V .itt. nll'.n Immmw r'ii;r t!io 
 
 H..\ 
 
 ule tomvi 
 
 mil 
 
 ;-■>•• .Vti'l 
 
 dr.. 
 
 v;.<j 
 
 int. 
 
 . r: 
 
 liii 
 
 rill 
 
 S.Z^tc.^^.l^-''^^^ 
 
 Wt ' 
 
 ClIAhLKb 11., 
 
 jMr. ■ 
 
 
 J..- I 1 
 
 F, .Tank. 
 
 Ski. leoti- 
 
 VI'., 
 
 Whu V.-lS ;i Lalivc lii li. 
 
 . lA, 
 
 fttthcr from tho land of 
 
 ].K\ 1, 
 
 
 Ki.iZAiimi, 
 
 and ' ■ ' ' ' 
 
 
 {!{), 
 
 .Iambs A., 
 
 of y. :. .; . 
 
 .I-HV K., 
 
 ■ >: B., 
 
 for them. \S hen 1 hud ; 
 
 in pirin^ my rip'n'.'n xo ; 
 
 ;.SK, OR AXGIK, 
 
 wi' ul.ilf 
 
 
 mil lh:it 
 
 
 W : 
 
 
 IC 
 
 I '^\.TIIKR, MOTHER, 
 
 fut'. 
 
 
 UIi 
 
 ASl> 
 
 under the iu%v. ui. 
 
 SISTERS. 
 
 A •e'^-^nd • ■>' po- 
 
 
 lite . ip-u lu I i.i'-i;ij, hij in 
 
 
 ill- :ii of bond service will 
 
 
 
 Anleep In Jejiui ! Oh I how sweet 
 
 ?" 
 
 To be for «uch b tlumber meet ! 
 
 I not countenanco nfglecting 
 
 
 to f ri. .hiv, t'r. . 1 li i:\T that 
 
 
 to: 1: le^t 
 
 
 thr if tho 
 
 fill. ! I be 
 
 Levi Roys. Aged 78, 1857. 
 
 di- .' wlio 
 
 TnANKn.-L Ci-RTis-S, Wife ot 
 
 lei: 
 
 Lbvi Ruts, Aged H 1 841. 
 
 CJli 
 
 ta: 
 
 Cm 
 
 lik. 
 
 PAMELI > '"« ol 
 
 GlOKOK \V. Si i 40, 1S.')5. 
 
 Her Gnive in k- nki.K, Iowa. 
 
 all 
 
 i.izABKTii Rots, Aged 30, 1850. 
 
 W 
 
 licr (travo in Avoyelles, La. 
 
 tlT • .,...-. 
 
 
 th.. 
 
 
 1 • ■■ i.r.>- 
 
 
 phecy, when imrt or d> 
 
 A neat, whU*^ marblt', in ."^ ' ■ ■'• 
 
 God'-" h'}r iTv 1 wtcn th-i' 
 
 Kverj^-en (Vjmeterv, hii.x tlic llr ■. 
 
 11' 
 
 tionsupon its fac<>, nnd the sceona ujx.n u» i>.»cK 
 
 ti. :' 
 
 1 
 
 to • 
 
 I .._..l, I' .... „■:.■., 1 ., -v;'',. W, ,!,;,•« \l!,i. XI-,. nr 
 
 mi 
 
 
 Km 
 
 ■ , _■ ■ 
 
 » k itie boods of prejudice, and 
 
 1 ID the V f >ol ol J 
 
 set 
 
 1 M^nntn .^!)i'»,> "n ■ 
 
 I l ok i;>r '' 'ly Ppirit i. 
 
 
 tako of the t - and j<hci.' 
 t!: 
 
 
 ill 
 
 n-v.-... v.. . ,. , 
 
 
76 
 
 A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 the same town ("Wallingford) went Jonathan Cur- 
 ii?f, with his possessions tied in a handkerchief, 
 ar;d consisting of other commodities than bank- 
 notes or specie. But he had a knowledge of 
 agriculture and of liou«e-building. He pur- 
 owaaed n tract of land in N. W. Sheilielcl, where, 
 with honest industry and a spirit of enterprise 
 worth}' all praii^e, he built for himself a place 
 and a name He married Mary Jacobs, of Ver- 
 mont. Her lineal descent has been traced back 
 to the first governor of Mass Her brother 
 Richard, itinerant clergyman of the Methodist 
 Church, (of which she was a communicant,) was 
 drowned while fording a stream in company with 
 one who could not swim. After constructing a 
 r.itt, Mr. Jacobs loaned his hor-e to his neighbor 
 and look the raft because he could swim ; 
 but by some means became disabled, and at an 
 hour whtn he looked not for the event, landed 
 on ''the .shining shore." Her brother Steven 
 became Judge of the County Court. On her mar- 
 riage !-he was endowed with a lady's ridiug-iiorte, 
 a sum of money, and a condition on the part of 
 her husb><nd that she should ever be allowed to 
 keep a horse to take her to vis t her father's 
 house. My mother was the second of the six 
 daughters reared by this pair. She had three 
 brothers, all older than herself; She had beauty, 
 wit, and song. She man led before she was 
 eighteen jeanj of age. I inquired of her why 
 she married so young, and she gave the followiog 
 solution : Her f^xther carried on a great business, 
 which kept many men about him to be served, 
 and he thought that woman's work was nothing. 
 Hfr mother was feeble, and her elder sister 
 married when my mother was ten years of age, 
 leaving her the chief miid-servant. She served 
 faithfully, but was not appreciated. Her father, 
 in the pressure of business upon his hands and 
 rnind, could not understand woman'.s real wants. 
 Her mother, through not being understood, was 
 compelled to resort (through protracted visits) to 
 her father's house, and her church, for the solace 
 which sensitive, suffering humanity must have to 
 enable one to be.ir up under a burden of responsi- 
 bilities too great to be barne without foreign 
 aid. 
 
 My mother married a man nine years her 
 senior, who, by honest industry, had a few hun- 
 dred dollars in store as his own. Sojn after 
 their marriaga, my grandfather Roys desired 
 them to live with him, and take care of himself, 
 wife, and mother. My mother had a blending 
 of her lather's ambition and her mother's deli- 
 cacy; but having become weary of serving an 
 ambition to be lich, she became ambitious to 
 make her home attractive. And I hazard no- 
 thing when I make a public declaration before 
 the uuiltitudes who dwelt in her house, or par- 
 took of her hospitality, that no woman ever suc- 
 ceeded better in such undertaking. She revtred 
 her tiMtural lather as an honorable man of intel- 
 ligence, indu^t'y, enterprise, and success ; but 
 she admired the faitb, patience, and cheerfulness 
 of the father and mothers of the house into which 
 phe had married. The praises of her grandmother 
 Eunic ) were ever upon her lips, as she enter- 
 tained her children with stories of the past. 
 The old lady .slept with the fa'-hers at the age of 
 ninety or more, saying that ber prayers th--it God 
 wouid give her neitlier poverty nor riches had 
 ever been answered. Probably tiiis woman ol 
 
 strong faith desired for her children the same 
 blessing she asked for herself. But the hand of 
 the diligent maketh rich. My grandfather found 
 himself in possession of means to pu: chase a 
 farm adjoining his own, which came into market 
 in this manner: His neighbor Mr. Il'gby died, 
 leaving a widow and small children, in an age 
 when the body of the dead man was taken for 
 debt until friends came forward as surety for 
 pay. The father of the widow (Mr. Abraham 
 Burrell) became surety, took the widow and 
 children to his own home and cared for them, 
 and sold their farm to my grandfather, giving 
 him a warranty deed. Mr. Burrell was a rich 
 man, and all was congidertd secure. When my 
 grandfather liad owned and improved the land 
 "between thirty and fbity years, the Higby heirs, 
 haviug found tlie deed by which their father 
 received his title to the farm among the papers 
 their father left, sued for the land. Mr. Burrell, 
 to save expense, had d spensed with legal ad- 
 miuistration before he conveyed the land, and 
 now he was dead. It only remained to sacrifice 
 the libd, or stand a suit at law, knowing the suit 
 must fail, in order to be empowered to come back 
 upon the estate of Mr. Burrell, deceased, to ob- 
 tain the warranted satisfaction. My grandfather 
 gave my father power of attorney to act for him ; 
 and at the time of my birth my father was en- 
 gaged in a study entirely foreign to any thing 
 tbre-ordaiufcd by liimself or friends, and which 
 brought to himself wisdom at the expanse of 
 much money ; for at the expiration of twelve or 
 fifieea years, when a final decision and settle- 
 ment were bad, the Higby farm was gone from 
 the Roys' possessions, and the old h:>me3tead 
 burdened with debts. Yet the faith of our 
 Grandmother Eunicri did not forsake those who 
 suffered through la'.k of sagacity in looking 
 alter trtles to their earthly estate. Godliness 
 hath promise of the life that now is ; and a 
 man's life consisteth not in the abundance of 
 the things which he possesseth. The siaff of 
 life has never failed, nor the crystal waters 
 ceased to flow at the Roys' homestead fince 
 our forefather planted his dwelling there. This 
 spot, now in the po-sossion of my elder brother, 
 was the place where my husbaud asked that, 
 myself and son might board at the time he left 
 to execute his brother Bulkley's will in Cliicago. 
 My brother told Mr. Little that he would allow 
 us to have a home with him while his (Mr. L.'s) 
 busiuess called him from town, at a charge of a 
 dollar a week each. I took posssssi )n, hoping 
 to be able by my services to make up trie defi- 
 ciency of pay, but was prevented in ttie pro- 
 vidence of God, through the severe illness ot my 
 boy, and also finding that I had a diminution of 
 pliysical power never beftira experienced when 
 able to enjjy the society of friends. 
 
 The truth was, that while my husband was 
 prevented from earning his bread beciuse of a 
 broken bone, I was disabled by reason of a 
 broken heart. But this he could not see ; and 
 as he had no faith in me, he could not believe. 
 I must have solace fi'om a source wh-re I was 
 understood, or go down to the grave. And the 
 Physician to whom [ cried at the bedside of my 
 languishmg Mary, when pai'alysis in the region 
 of the heart, (as I nov/ clearly perceive it to 
 have been,) brought relief to my then agonized 
 nerves, Sicnt, in his providence, the needed 
 
A MOTIIKR's I'EACK OFFKUIXO. 
 
 77 
 
 rtmody. I wm thon, as unw, iiWa t" writ« a 
 
 little tlnily o'li of ilio al 
 
 nod lo fool Ihfti I hnil a 
 
 Friend in Uio ]•■--■■ ■■> ■ 
 
 ly beluvfd t<> n 
 
 live. B«ni<lo, 1 
 
 torcosMiou lor iti» ui: > tiad iiiao 
 
 the briii'i f>f hint > : »li ••«» in' 
 
 wound •« \ 
 
 turo, dfp 
 
 unti! •' 
 
 IW 
 
 1 ox; , i 
 
 so well foiitmii, us nl tlio pr»i«ci.t lime, linre- 
 fore have thoae wriUnf(5 waited to bo copied into 
 thin iwc-tioa of my public f pistla I bad a female 
 friend, wbn, in ountecret conimuuinvs, cxpre.sHed 
 ix\u ■■ ' " '. '■ - • - ■ 
 
 bo i 
 
 inci.i- .... .,,.-,.. 
 
 fcm hiT fuith l>cfi>re Uie world, by c( ininf: to the 
 nrdioiii.cu<i of the Lord in u ('iirisiiHn eliurcb. 
 She aAtrwiird told me thai «l.o decided to lake 
 my advion, Hi.d TiBtum'lv addro^a^d a profo-sed 
 I'liii- . il rtligijQ 
 
 ua H rc of hav- 
 
 ing .i.^ •„ (.1 .: .-. ,i, Mrs. Ltltlo. 
 
 The ptr-..:i ati . d: •' Let Mrs. Littlo 
 
 I>r8y . I . r ir. ^o very bigb." And 
 
 Haid " inough I have loHt none of 
 
 my < III you or ia God, I can not i^ 
 
 any farii.v; toward entering your chiucb, for UUtt 
 person waa one of i'a members." Xow 1 do not 
 claim Ibat my prayers po b . ' ' ' • .Idim that 
 
 flod cornea ao low a« to 1 • ivcr fir a 
 
 rijiht Mpirit tbal poea out .......d lipn. I 
 
 did not nsk the name of the person, nor did my 
 friend nive it: bui when tho day of oommunion 
 crtme, I mvij«e<l thus with myself: Ob I that il 
 wore my priviloffo to (^ to the Methodist church 
 and heiir Rov. Mr. Merci'ii. the .stran^'er who 
 can lo k nt his hearer with an unprt-judicod 
 
 min'f ' ■ ' •■' ■>■'-<-•■'•■■ .-.,.■ 
 
 the ! 
 
 in m 
 
 Sabbaiti-iay. And lrii.>*lin|f that my conacicnce 
 
 was enlij^litened by t)"" word and npirit of God. 
 
 I wei't lo tho y. Jircb, one fourth of a 
 
 mile from the ' nl. on whow Iwt my 
 
 ...-., , . . ■ . , jij^j 
 
 rta- 
 
 - , ii(d 
 
 the way ' nunicaiiona to wj paator, 
 
 which I V •*. 
 
 THE UARTYK OP 1840. 
 
 The rear 1849 op«ne<i upon a child of "ten 
 
 years" in m .i .ri-..i,. ,! r..-i,, •,..,.,. . i, , .-„. , 
 
 lering, 111 <■ 
 
 in other t 
 
 which Can Uul bo pi ■ with tt.e ►kiii j 
 
 of a divine hand. vn* a I trb of ' 
 
 I'hrial'a (luck gathercl i > 
 
 chu'ch**. Sbo wa.1 ihcri 
 
 amid th" flamos of n • - 
 
 the moiher. That r: 
 
 survived this more tl. 
 
 lliat she mar plead \n 
 
 of this horrid deed 
 
 and G«xl only, bnvo //u., sii.iuJ, wii.i-..' cosuhiiica 1 
 
 elTorta have effected the premature death of her I 
 
 I llmt-bom, hf r only and dfarlv hrloTcd d«n(r*l*r. 
 
 <vvu to pi«T ila 
 
 •iMl •b-v aball 
 
 idno. 
 
 l)t« 
 
 iu- 
 
 tba 
 
 utftr 
 
 I c'immunicatca, that ihoy wiii utnto wi'ii ntr in 
 
 I prayer lo God for all those who have iu any 
 
 way aided in thia work of murtyrdom, tbia «!«y- 
 
 1 inK of a ctUisctTBled lamb, Uiat Ihey, tbrouKh 
 
 ' ' ' inted to the Lamii c>f God 
 
 •• sill of tho World for the 
 
 . .„ . ... d all iheir Bin* 
 
 iiretbren and mxiora of the Amoriiiin churchef, 
 tbia ia a fact, and no liolion. God is my only 
 witDcaa. AHk of him and he will grant the saiic- 
 liou of hia approbatioQ. 
 
 A MoTUKK, 
 Sorrowing yel greatly rtjoicing. 
 
 Tho foregoing iH.''iihmil(od to my mncti beloved 
 pastor, with a reniipat that be will pnocrfully 
 c«)tJ8'der i' • can then judgu best, for- 
 
 ward Witt iiion for publication iu ibo 
 
 American .'. 
 
 Yes, Mary bath truly fallen a martrr. Tho 
 family where she has lived and ;■ ' ^m a 
 
 regard to reputation ) would nev' m-d 
 
 tbia work ol haired so far as the;. had 
 
 not a eloak been held up to scr*" i the 
 
 eye of human observation. A r > ro- 
 
 ooive and propagate iLo reprtjeeuliiioua given, 
 hss couiitenuuctd and eno. iirac'ed the work. 
 It has pointed every eye 1 '.•♦to the 
 
 iiiiagnitil wiiiug which a -: ^vnuld in- 
 
 tlicU It baa ft "' ' • il«'4vea's 
 
 troiu the real iiHifned. 
 
 This cloak ha.-* ; , IJ up hy 
 
 those who have disregarueu tno^e plain hnd nim- 
 plo yel all-important commands of (Jod : ".\void 
 evil-si>eaking, ' and "Judge not,'' or condemn 
 not without evidence. Among the number who 
 have - - < t' • ,,1 the work of deaih 
 
 are with Ihe t'l.u'ch of 
 
 the ; _ . . .. h where tsia vicliin 
 
 was ctMiaecraUd, aiid Iroin vni.icli her death ro- 
 moved her; the cliureh where the niittor, for 
 whom she has laid down bt r life, paid I e^ ear- 
 liott vowa; th« Phiiffb wbi<h hs* had this moth- 
 er'a ." yens 
 
 but : ..oK 
 
 fe!t t.i . , , .,,. ,,,-. , ,.,. , 
 
 -liui out. I fiel jiisiilied in a* 
 (ri.m tho commuiiioo. I feel 
 small voice" which has long .'■eimeU so eiose be- 
 hind me, spying, " This ia the way, wsIk ye io 
 It," baile mo do so. 
 
 I a-k your prayer-. God wiU surely listen In 
 reference to a case whidi is ao exclusively at his 
 own dispoiMil. 
 
 Another coronxinicatioQ to my pasior has tho 
 
 :Ml.<iwiug : 
 
 W. TO my view- th, or mv f4i'h 
 
 Uko lb it of the .- . <iory o. Mury'a 
 
78 
 
 A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 suEferingg and death, aa known to myself, would 
 rend my soul with agonies and distraction. But 
 I view the hand of Abraham's Gtod in all, and I 
 rejoice with joy unspeakable. I know that she 
 shall see of the travail of her soul, and be satis- 
 fied. I feel that I have labored with much sor- 
 row and heaviness of heart for ten years to bring 
 my child into the kingdom of heaven ; but from 
 the moment she took po^-session of her Father's 
 house, I have remembered no more my anguish, 
 for jay that I have given to that world a blessed 
 inhabitant. This, my joy, has been constantly 
 increasing, as her powers and faculties are there 
 unfolding to the admiration of the members of that 
 blissful family. I confidently expect to behold her 
 there as the " first-born" among many brethren. 
 I teel tlia"; my gifts and eodovvments, small and 
 imperfect ihougti the3'- are, are more unreservedly 
 consecrated to G-od. If I rightly construe the lead- 
 ings of his providence and his Spirit, he is asking 
 my prayers and my pen. And this, for the pre- 
 sent, seems all I have to bestow. To you, sir, I 
 look as a spiritual g\iide. I a-*k your prayers 
 and counsel. I ask that you will examine tlie 
 inclosed communication t) Rev. Mr. Bullard, and 
 if it meet your approbation, that you will for- 
 ward it. 
 
 From another I extract the following : 
 
 I have felt constrained to present my expe- 
 rience of God's faithfulness to such as may be 
 able to receive it, to lead them also to trust hsm. 
 While erg-iged in this work I was providentially 
 led to speak to a youth who has graduated, and 
 is commencing preparations for a profession. I 
 give you to read his replies, thinkmg they may 
 induce you to pray the Lord of the vineyard to 
 bring ?iis talents and his service into his vine- 
 yard. I have a desire to copy the germou 
 preached on the day of Mary's burial, with such 
 omissiorrS as are needful. There was, in tiie 
 case of the two individuals referred to, a total 
 dissimilarity in age, but I ju^ge not in character. 
 The most beautiful exemplification, in character, 
 of that principle of faith which works by love, 
 purifies the heart, and overcomes the world, ever 
 presented to my view, was in the life of Mary. 
 I can not judge with accuracy how far you, dear 
 sir, are prepared to receive my testimony. But 
 of this I am confident, what you know not now 
 you shall know hereafter. 
 
 I am yours, etc, in the bonds of Christian love, 
 L. J. Little. 
 
 Rev. J. Bradford. 
 
 P. S. — Please return these papers at a time 
 suited to your own convenience. L. J. L. 
 
 The papers were returned by my pastor in 
 silence, and during the remainder of his life, no 
 allusion was ever made to them. Thus was there 
 an intimation to me that the God of the everlast- 
 ing covenant would have me keep silence before 
 him. Sj much as I did write was doubtless from 
 the game kind of constraint as that which once 
 led our Saviour to say: "If these should hold 
 their peace the very stones would cry out." 
 
 After Mary's death, my husband's fir.st ex- 
 pressioQ, as the tears streamed from his eyes, 
 wrts: "She was a sweet, considerate child." 
 He said, on the day of her burial : " I do not 
 think Mary could have been induced to do any 
 
 thing she thought to be wrong." From that 
 time, I can not recall that he ever spake any 
 thing concerning her. His letters show the 
 same. I proceed to copy some correspondence I 
 had during 1849. when my pen uttered out of 
 the abundance of my heart: 
 
 1849. . . . Tet such was the character 
 of her whom I loved with the strongest and 
 deepest love of kindred of which my nature is 
 capable. I confidently expect to spend a bli.ss- 
 ful eternity in her society, rejoicing with her that 
 our gracious God blessed me in making me in- 
 strumental in molding this character ; a blessing 
 compared with which earthly thrones and king- 
 doms sink into insignificance; a blessing which I 
 have not purchased, liave not earned; a blessing 
 which I secured by accepting the invitation 
 given to every one : " Come, buy without money 
 and without price. ' Whatever providence may 
 permit to befall me ere I cross the Jordan oi 
 death, I have the earnests of that blessedness in 
 my soul, and can not doubt its realization in joys 
 such as my heart is now incapable of conceiving. 
 Had I been infiueuced by mcitives as selfi-ih and 
 worldly as may ap;)ear to those who look only 
 to the outward man, far diilerent would now be 
 my experience. My judgment is with Him who 
 searches the heart, in whose hand is my destiny, 
 whose I am, and whom I serve. 
 
 The following I copy from the letter to my 
 b.'"othtr, containing the retusal to grant hia dis- 
 charge fioin the U. S. service: 
 
 1849. 
 
 " Virtue, the strength and beauty of the sou], 
 Is the Ijest gift of Heaven ; a wealth 
 Tliat ne'er encumbers, nor to baser hands 
 Can be transferred. It is the only good 
 Man justly boasts of, or can call his own. 
 Riches are oft by guilt and baseness earned. 
 But for one end, one much- neglected use, 
 Are riches wortli our care. 
 This noble end is, to produce the soul. 
 To show the virtues in their fairest light. 
 And make humanity the minister 
 Of bounteous providence." 
 
 It ocoiars to me, dear brother, that He who 
 leadeth the blind in a way that they know not, 
 who is both far and deep sighted, sees it best for 
 you to remain upon a man-of-war in time of 
 peace, within sight, as it v/ere, of the gold which 
 would assist you in carrying out your favorite 
 schemes, that your soul may, as in the furnace, 
 be refined, strengthened, and beautified, before 
 you shall be permitted to clasp those richea 
 whieh show the virtues in their fairest light. It 
 is the nature of mankind to be unreasonable at^d 
 selfish. True, our selfishness works through 
 different channels, according to our predominant 
 propensities, but is one and the same principle 
 still. This priaciple may be stifled, and kept 
 within certain bounds by our own efforts. But 
 it is never slain except by that power which 
 works wittiin us a new nature, which creates 
 the man anew in Christ Jesus. The new birth 
 and attainments in hohness are an especial favor 
 of God, conferred upon those only who seek in 
 his appointed way. The principle of selfishness, 
 though overcome, is not entirely slain in the 
 Curisiian, even, until he arrive at the stature of 
 a perfect man in Christ Jesus. And as mankind 
 are a community where a mutual dependence is 
 
A MOTIIEll'S PEACE OKFKRING. 
 
 79 
 
 il exJHt lu I proiti-h Jurcii' 
 
 ninning through the witole. uod wh«ro thin prin- | attetition; and atmll I not ray jour inifii/<ii(if<r nt- 
 
 ciplo in tnoro prfd"-? ■ • ■ "^ ' •- •■ • ' ■■ ■ ■■ ^ ■ • •• ' • •>•- 
 
 oit.cnt, li'>w iurf.«< 
 k)oar witli uiiri'H*'!. 
 tint pluco, uiiri'a«toiiNbi«< 
 •uch n ■•...-!!, nwi in • 
 thr. 
 co>; 
 
 U) 
 f.Xi 
 
 8CV. do 1 vgli. 
 
 leu- I lir.t if T 
 
 tako bitvii u 
 duuifhicr had ' 
 hi- 
 
 fyr 
 
 tno.>v .. 
 
 dure. 
 
 milting ' 
 
 eteniit^, how obail we uduuru ntd uduru i 
 
 To Uio jouth aboTe alluded to : 
 
 IS49. , . . Pr- ' ' 
 
 stand that Tou are <; 
 
 of law. I take the 
 
 your wcl are, of n • to 3our ndice 
 
 the workH of a ver. lor, one wiio hns 
 
 framid many of the n.^K-^i i;i4>ortaiit and UHefui 
 laws: likewiHo, of aiikifi(r voii id atlopt h» h 
 mi ' ' ' 
 
 an 
 
 hia ; ^. 
 
 ance nith yo'j, ihBt 
 
 and fcehiiti that I 
 
 vidoala above alluded to, I yifiU lo iiiu mdiua- 
 
 tionn of my henrt. «!•'! prp«<»nt th''^ st!bi<»<'t to 
 
 yoi; 
 
 in - 
 
 l<'{x. UiMllCU lur |>ilsl liiS(>)>V<iil.Ml 
 
 in lii< Si>n. Yifid v. npjflf <>■ 
 
 Loni wiil be your guide, your counselor, and 
 your delight L J. L. 
 
 TO A re MALE FRirSP. 
 
 1619. 
 My DbauGirl: Ifoci coni'trninod, 
 
 rii.M. 11,,. lovo 1 l>orey..ir ,i. . .n, ,1 .;.t. r ,. ,i iv,» 
 I il'ol in her 
 ' you upon 
 Uiiiiiiiig. Prom thu lacl luai uo Uiniiy iiiur is 
 ffif ted in pithpr of hor home", if nt'P' ■"^' (<> nif> 
 
 thr 
 
 fin : 
 
 cat! 
 
 of . 
 
 iho AuiLor Lit y >ur cxi.-^Kt.cc, and "J" uli ; 
 
 created. lo your own fiarae. so cu'iou."! 
 
 wonderfully wrought, and in lU principle o: i :e, 
 
 which 
 
 '• <'ont«ln« K hninlr<«fl njirine-". 
 I diet If one be gonv ' 
 
 iii>'i i' I.'.' r II. 
 word, and to ! 
 in I r.i-,. r 1 
 
 inuii- "; 
 i(? heart T 
 
 'III*: i .4 a 
 
 Y. •. ■ ■ 
 
 cut 
 wi:. 
 aii'i 
 da- 
 mn' 
 nn'i 
 in I 
 ho : 
 
 On.' ... 
 child of 
 and is u 
 
 justified or a'.<|ii.tu.'U l<>r 
 But th"? p^at .riif1cf»<f i! 
 thi- 
 cot; 
 
 d. lie has or- 
 mind. Tl, i i 
 lu to tho i 
 • > eqi)n!«. 
 
 the iiiw. 
 ;rt where 
 
 \iiu to j.roctt..!, lV>r iu duo tvasun you 
 if you fuiut not. L. J. L. 
 
 The youngvst two of my mother's dnuffhtcfs. 
 
 : wnil 
 It hv 
 
 tcUtjLlDg. 
 
 I next copy a Utter addr«ascd to tin- ,>.'ii ig....), 
 from Mnrv's »ick>room : 
 
 Tu. 
 Pear 
 
 Offvl'r.i I .ur ' 
 
 pronounonl. ^ 
 
 you as having a ; . .. ,. 
 
 your own to be disiXMied oi which demands your i 
 
 •h. 1348. 
 r noon the 
 
 the intervals in which she gets a little repom by 
 
80 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 sleep, in answer to yours to her which came to 
 hand on Saturday last. You ask her to* write; 
 hut, alas ! she has not so far recoverei the 
 strength of her eyes as to allow of her reading a 
 sentence. Now I can not have sufficient light 
 in her room through the day to enable me to 
 read or write. I told her on Saturday I liad a 
 letter for her from you, and asked her if she 
 could hear it read. She replied, "Not to-day;" 
 and she has not since asked a question about it. 
 I mention this to give you an idea how sick she 
 is. Poor girl 1 She has before this been greatly 
 afflicted, but was never so great a sufterer as 
 now. Liltle Charlie thinks it hard to stay from 
 Jtfary's room, or to bo as still as is necessary, for 
 she is very sensitive to noise of any kind. He 
 came to the door, a day or two since, and handed 
 me a paper he had folded. I thanked him, being 
 desirous of dismissing him as soon as possible; 
 but he soon came back to the door with a request 
 that I would send it to Aunt Lib. He frequently 
 asks if Aunt Lib and Linealine will not come 
 back tliis sunnuer, and weeps when told they 
 will not. Olive is doing the house-work, and I 
 have two beds in the south room. So you will 
 perceive we are more comfortably situated to 
 take care of the sick than last winter. 
 
 L. ;T. L. 
 
 The Thursday before Mary sickened, slie 
 walked to a neighbors for the last time, to which 
 reference i'^ had in the following extract from a 
 joint letter to my sisters in Maryland, in the 
 summer of 1819 : 
 
 Her countenance was pale, but expressive of 
 a glowing intellect ; her eyes sparkling with ani- 
 mation; a crimson flush sat upon her clieeks. 
 She was clad in a green caslmiere dress made 
 from Angeline's, a pink apron presented her by 
 Lucretia, and a pla'd silk hood from Angeline's 
 parasol-cover, lined with cherry red. I am sure 
 I never saw her so beautiful at any other time. 
 Mary had not external b-. auty; but the beauties 
 of her mind had fixed tlioir impress upon her 
 countenance. Could I present you a correct 
 daguerrtotype likeness of her appearance at that 
 time, it would be highly giatifying. But, my 
 dear sisters, we have ouly to wait that glorious 
 morning when she shall awake from the peaceful 
 slumber which has come over her, a child of 
 "ten years," the same in hight, in shape and in 
 feature, arrayed in glorious robes, with a counte- 
 nance heavenly and divine, and with " imperish- 
 able " stamped upon her nature. Yours, dear 
 A., was the first infint head over wliich I poured 
 the fervent prayer, after my own espousals to 
 Christ. I then thought I loved you with a love 
 that a mother's could not exceed. But no; 
 there have since been disclosed to me deeper 
 fountains of love in my lieart than ever before 
 were fathomed. But the dear, cherished object 
 has beeu, by the great and unerring Householder, 
 removed to a happier home than I could furnish, 
 where love is unmingled and unceasing. Per- 
 haps He may mercifully order that you shall yet 
 perform the kindly ofQces of daughter and sister 
 to my bereaved self and child; that j-our hand, 
 as in 
 
 " Filial love, shall close 
 My eyes in tlieir last sleep," 
 
 * when my spirit soars to a reiinion with the 
 loved and departed, in that world where sorrow 
 
 and mourning are unknown. Be your soul pre- 
 pared by grace divine for these or any duties or 
 events unerring wisdom may appoint you. Y"ou, 
 dear B., wrote one j'ear sioce of your pupils 
 mingling their te?irs with j^ours, in sympathy for 
 Mary when shut out fi'om the light of the natur- 
 al sun, and all those pleasant objects' whose 
 sight delights the soul. But had you known the 
 truth, and proportioned j-oar sympathj^ to the de- 
 gree of joy or wretchedness experienced — 
 
 The finishing of the sentence is not upon paper 
 in my possession. 
 
 To show that God gave me solace through 
 other channels than his word and Spirit, I copy 
 from my correspondents : 
 
 BnooKLTN, N. Y., January 25th, 1849. 
 Deah Mrs. Little : I sincerely sympathize 
 with you in your affliction, though my feelings 
 are mingled with the deepest self-condemnation 
 at the tliought that had I been more persevering, 
 or more self-denying, thecliange of climate whieh 
 you sought as a means of restorii^ig health might 
 under God have been successful, and Mary have 
 been long spared a blessing to the world, and a 
 source of comfort to her now bereaved mother. 
 God has wisely concealed from us the knowledge 
 of future events, and left us to be guided by prin- 
 ciple, and to leave results with him. Y^ou ex- 
 press much gratitude for favors received during 
 your short and to me pleasant visit with us. If 
 I was instrumental of imparting pleasure or hap- 
 piness, I am grateful for the opportunity. 1 have 
 often put the question to myself: Wliy, when I 
 lingered as it were, upon the confines of the 
 grave — why was I raised agaiu to health ? I felc 
 at the time that perhaps my heavenly Father 
 spared my life, that I might be tlie instrument of 
 leading others to that Saviour whom I profess to 
 love, and whose sufferings I thouglit that I in 
 some measure appreciated. But the world has 
 had a strong hold upon my affections, and I have 
 done little to advance the cause of the Redeemer. 
 Yet why trouble you with a recital of my own 
 private feelings, when your heart is bleeding and 
 broken ? Neither will I presume to point you to 
 a source of consolation, for you learned the true 
 source long ere I Icirned to bow in submission to 
 the will of my heavenly Father. You ask me to 
 pray that the sufferings of the loved and lost may 
 be the means of salvation toothers of her family. 
 Gladly i^ill I do so, thankful that we are invited 
 to come to a throne of grace and ask for spiritual 
 blessings upon those near and dear to us. 
 
 Cordelia. 
 
 Hamptox, Va , March Cth, 1849. 
 Dear Mr.s, Little: We have daily demon- 
 stration that this is a world of change ; and 
 though in looking back through a course of years, 
 we may be able to trece the hand of an All-wise 
 Provfdeuce, and see that in truth all thirigs work 
 together for good to ourselves, yet there are 
 changes that we fee! to be sore trials, and the 
 cause of their necessity is vailed in darkness, 
 which requires the utmost stretch of our faith to 
 penetrate, so as to discern the afflicting hand. I 
 have received, wiih lieart-telt sonow, intell - 
 gence of the death of Consm Mary. I had pic- 
 tured to myself the development of her charac- 
 ter and the expansion of her mind, until in 
 imagination she stood before me a woman of ran- 
 
A MOTHKU'S PKACE OPFEKINO. 
 
 81 
 
 capaHiliUeii and (nio^mmon nit liiii • uti*. »'\i rtiii>f ' Hhor.!d r»ll av! t'm t., tho >fi'ri*. rf j-pr^fr-.-irni 
 
 upon nil willi . 
 
 tor jr'X"l. h 
 
 to 
 
 Iki . 
 
 Ui 
 
 w. 
 
 di: 
 
 ]y 
 
 IIUI 
 
 U) 
 w> . 
 uc 
 
 ft)W Wty.'vis, ulUiT ^•^>i>(^ Ul> > 
 
 tiie roouoiit. Ttiur« urti lu IIu:j 
 It:.'. 
 
 liT 
 
 »K' 
 
 iu e 
 
 Ilk. 
 
 bobokvivuvi-, aiiU liiiuiv « Vvty K"^ UivMbd i U> 
 
 of doir!i» a(\ fw-rlinp* I'c bfi^. wiH he t-i PTm ' w) 
 
 i iof 
 voiir 
 
 w-.- 
 hu. 
 
 Ml'. 
 
 ma: 
 i>p«nuiouf>, as 
 
 aii'i 
 
 liKLKX . 
 
 SiiL^rik^Li), April, 1S49. 
 
 I l.;ivc LioU.u.fj li ■ 
 
 > copy ;'. 
 
 1. \our 
 
 beiietit, except a u. 
 
 . er «lii 
 
 1 1 witi 
 
 be I 
 
 iogd. lAit, luu (jfv^ liciil 
 
 I * 
 
 P» 
 
 ar ' 
 sell auu 
 I fe^l <• 
 of ' 
 to 
 
 to ; 
 
 M ■•■■ 
 
 T" • 
 
 xhail ru4p. 
 
 Ah I fkl^n, lh*t ImA, rr np^nitifr Monom, 
 
 wl, ' ■ ■ 
 
 pi.: 
 
 fi., ; 
 
 bl.. 
 
 A'li 
 
 Btid wii«ro ilie tiui - 
 
 mor>» he ti»»tH 
 
 DbaR Mli8. LiTTI.K . 1 r 
 
 J.I* 
 
 8l.' 
 
 S;-.. . 
 
 pr. .... 
 
 t»ka uer to hiuisei', it pi e— wd iiiia Uiat she | dedcieuk U^ cut»>Mtl |>t 
 
 6 
 
 .'d, Uju'ovM* 
 
82 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 my faith." But even that is not answered, or if 
 at al], so slowly, that it is imperceptible from day 
 to day, and I m«y say from month to month. 
 And yet when I look bfick to the mazes of dark- 
 ness from which my soul has emereed since I 
 iarst hoped for salvation through Christ, I feel 
 that I do wronp: to say, I have made no progress. 
 Tne opening of light upon my fouI has been as 
 the gradual advancement of day fiom midnight 
 darknef-s; and though now greatly obscute by 
 mifts and clouds, when I compare my present 
 s,tat9 with that which preceded and attended the 
 liour of my conversion, I know that the Lord 
 has done great things forme, whereof I am glad. 
 What source of consolation would now be suffi- 
 cient for me, had I no faith in Him who killelh 
 aod maketh alive, without whose care not one 
 spar/ow falleth to the ground ? I have also re- 
 ceived, dear cousic, your letter bearing words of 
 comfort to my now stricken heart: and I also re- 
 collect other instances when by your presence and 
 your writings you have proved yourself a minis- 
 tering angel of morcy. For these kindnesses my 
 deepest gratitude and warmest; affections ara 
 yours. I feel the consolation which your words 
 impart ; and be assured I find no disposition to 
 murmur against the afflicting hand of my heaven- 
 ly Father, who I know will do " all things well." 
 'Tis true the blow was unexpected, most unex- 
 pc-cfed; but 'lis equally true, my father's "labors 
 and caves have b.;en enough." Yet could oi:e 
 last embrace have been given, one partins: 
 message been recrived I would then have laid 
 my hand upon my mouth in uncomplaining 
 silence. Sntl^ this most bi'tor portion of the 
 cup I will drink, because prepared by the great 
 Physician. Pray for me, tliat the design of this 
 e7ent may not be lost upon my soul. 
 
 Helen. 
 
 To Miss A. C : 
 
 My DJ'Jar Girl: Receive my t anks for those 
 kind ofBcea designed to soothe the sorrows of 
 my strickc-n heart. May some kmd spirit min- 
 ister to your comfort in every sorrow. Suft'eiing 
 is necessarily blended with earthly enjoyments 
 as the fruit of disobedience. In every bitter por- 
 tion of life's cup which shall be measured out 
 to yoii, may ffiith discern the band of a kind aud 
 skillful physician ; and may al) result in the life 
 and lieahh of your soul in the Paradise of God. 
 In the full assurance of faith and hope do I see 
 that cherished object of my love already there, 
 tastirog those subhma delights her pure and lov- 
 ing Hpirit was fitted to enjoy. I fael that I can 
 adopt the sentimtnt ei: pressed in the lines you 
 gave me : 
 
 " Now .severed is tlie tie : 
 My dotins spirit earthward drew 
 tVoin realms more pure aud high." 
 
 April, 1849. 
 
 Fiver your 
 
 L. J. Little. 
 
 Detroit, Feb. 18th, 1819. 
 My Dear Sister: Your letter of the 17th ulti- 
 mo, conveying the sad intelligence of the death 
 of your b.:lovc-d Mary, has awakened my heart's 
 deepest f^^elings of sympathy and sorrow. So- 
 row that one who gave so good a promise lliat 
 she would be a bles-ing to her friends, can be 
 no more among them, and sympathy for you 
 who in the providence of God are called upon 
 
 to bear this heavy affliction. For her I think 
 we need not mourn. She has left a world where 
 the most fortunate have much to bear and much 
 to suffer, and her pure spirit has gone back un- 
 stained to Him who gave it. But I had hoped 
 that she might live, that her young mind might 
 be strengthened and molded by your tender 
 care and teachings, and that in her society and 
 her love you might fiod a solace for all the trials 
 of your life. You have the pleasing reflection 
 that your duties to her were well and faithfully 
 performed; and young as she was, she saw be- 
 yond the darkness of the grave the brightness 
 of heaven. I shall never forget a conversation 
 I overheard between Frarik Roys and Mary 
 when they thought tl^emselves wholly unobsf-rv- 
 ed. They ha.d been talking of their grandmo- 
 ther and of her death, Vvhen Mary gave Frank 
 a description of the place where all good people 
 would go when they were dead, in language 
 beautiful and simple, and with a manner and 
 earnesiness peculiarly her own. So one after 
 auolher of those we love is taken away, thus 
 weakening the chord that binds us. to life. We 
 had s^ct you a letter abour, the time your last 
 was Wi'itten, little thinking that death had been 
 there, making your heart and home desolate. 
 Allow me to hope that you may use double dili- 
 gence in protecting and restoring your own fee- 
 ble health, that your strength ni«y be equal to 
 its task. We are eiyoying the best of health, 
 and still continue house-keef.ing at the place wo 
 lirst rented. In view of the sickness whioh 
 threatens Detroit, iu common with all our cities, 
 on the return of warm weather, it we can secure 
 a location in a more dry and healthy part of tho 
 town, we shall remove in the cours3 of the 
 spring. I regret to hear that father does not 
 completely recover fiom the effects of iiis injury. 
 We hope to liear favorably from him soon aud 
 often, also from brothers and sisters, with their 
 families. Can not you aud father make arrange- 
 ment to visit Detroit some time next summer ? 
 I think such a journey would be the best thing 
 you could do to renew your health and strength. 
 We would endeavor to make your stay here 
 pleasant, and a ride across Lake Erie would be 
 like sitting in your parlor and looking out upon 
 a broad expanse of water. 
 
 Dear Sister : Accept my sympathy, with 
 that of your brotl-er, my husband, in your pres- 
 ent afiiiction, for I feel that I can mourn with 
 those that mourn, and weep with those that 
 weep. Death is ever at our door, and we know 
 not when he may enter, or whom he will first 
 tear from uor embrace. But h's arrows are 
 directed by a just and mercifil Saviour, whose 
 mysterious ways we are not capable of cimpre- 
 hending. It is indeed trying to part with those 
 we love, never more to behold their faces on 
 this side the grave; trjing to part with them 
 in the morning of their life, when the prospects 
 for theluture were as bright and flattering as 
 was the case with your loved daughter ; but 
 
 " 'Tis ever tims with creatures heavenly fair — 
 Too finely framed to bide the brunt more earthly na- 
 tures bear : 
 A little while they dwell with us, blest ministers of love, 
 Then .'^pre.'vd the wings we had not seen, aud seek their 
 home above." 
 
 The evidence you have that she was a child 
 of grace, and that she is now enjoying the felici- 
 
A MOTHKR'8 PEACK OKKEIUNO. 
 
 88 
 
 lies of a bri({hlor world boyond iho romli ..f f.r 
 human nuffcnu^, nfl ii<1h ymi uouitda'il 
 lion. WImt it .-h— rri'.' t>^<»'it;tn, w» 
 
 (•' ■■ 
 h.. 
 
 on ..,: i , ■ .1. - 
 
 luriH V . ., and 1 f 
 
 hitpwy :> ! ilioii wiiti . . , 
 
 to part, i tiiiiik wiiti JaincH, lira it yuu ana i tug luu lu tio 
 your fathrr r-tii mnkr it ronvoiiii nt l<> Ink" n ' hnvf* nn ijm 
 j" • r, ic will I'l 
 
 }■■ r,y l.uj.pi 
 
 Vj ■■ • ■ u I lo i'» i:i< i> ' u. V. 
 
 Very olV.ciiKi.aiely joiirH, 
 
 .1 A . !»:i't 1 iKi.ii.Mi Ul)^ s 
 MhS. L, J. LlTTLK. 
 
 I. Tuv ii,(irii!tiK I r''»'t''"1 ^^'it*' 'f 
 
 Uoy tio 
 
 '•irf^ to 
 
 lo Lim. 
 
 NoRTUi-oiU, 1m (., iKc. Udi, 1;}4'J. 
 My Dk^r FhlKwn: I rweived touib of Nov. 
 
 b. 
 
 r-- 
 
 wliui ( ive faia moro a|<pn>piiiie ? 
 
 May ll i .1 upoQ hu heart iu all lim 
 
 loiif!iiiej<tt ui.i (^Tiof. and may ili) ir trulli bo 
 vontled in bit ext>Ari>^i.('i-, aa I d'nilii not it wua 
 
 tslnti; out littt tfVvuinic 1 am Muiiry ui wuik, 
 tbercro-»» I hid it adieu and taka my p'n to 
 (*;' i:d. I ebould dearly love to 
 
 h' n while in your t\nwl roi>m, 
 
 t .->avioijr, but wtre 
 
 11 . : -. I would like lo 
 
 x! >u ot mat "bouse not made with 
 
 liM ll in the heavouF," ii.a^inuch as you 
 havu otu'u tK>«n there in Hpirit, and beheld iM 
 
 fibiuing iiihahiiniitM ; but, muAt of all, would I 
 
 ask of ' ' . 
 that I. 
 
 buurl Willi a oeiiM} (t <ii.u d ^' utiue-a lu iniuig 
 tlie nioul'i witli every goftd f >•■■? I heard Nfr. 
 lirAdt'ord'a di- i 
 
 is in honor : > 
 
 hvr. • ■ ■ • ■ I 
 
 po: : . - . y ■ 
 
 iua; to i!it« iiiUfX ol promi.'-c', where w a mau.tion 
 already |>repuri-d and uc- q d by the loved ol 
 my ht-art, who la.st jeHr ' 1 me to the 
 
 bouao of (fod on Thai. a. I tolice 
 
 i< . 1. Yuu »ay that you 
 
 \u.. ,0 evc9 of your brother 
 
 Janien wiiu. lluw beautiful and kIu^uus the 
 privi!»>ir" to H'^"e th" eyes which will not op*>ii 
 n.' ' but when 
 
 h UDvail U> I 
 
 s I :. ..u i.a glory of L'.i^- n, . ,<>^- 
 
 II I. 
 
 I hIiiiII l:o fiijito Lhiuv to m<-»i vuu 
 „■ A 
 
 W if 
 
 Ji' lO bltts.'U.d oi (jud tj our kil.iil'v.U ; 
 
 It • M'B. L , in your prayers for 
 
 kiri'ir. I, i. >a«) remember your friend, 
 
 Eliza. 
 Mrs. L. J. LiTTLF. 
 
 Yec, to noon were Delilah's words, " Our toms 
 will i-ivm come," veriticd! Hht- who had been, by 
 t')i. linnio blow, heri'ft of father and mother in 
 
 I' 
 t 
 
 i: 
 
 w -t 1 be 
 
 1 led. I 
 aLaii proboi/iy v^iilo ul'l^ner at iuiuie, utikafl 
 eom"t>iii'fr 'MiUv-kf-d for preveiit". Mr. Little 
 
 N. Y.. I > "ta the 
 
 . iuK and f' r.>llow- 
 
 L J. L. 
 
 I here introduce a leittr to t^e i^iMer ^b«ve 
 addre-"""', wl'o will rr-tne more paU'fidfirly he 
 f ' ll the corn ~ ■ f 
 
 1 :i seemed ' 'i 
 
 proj'Mii'- ii.iii'i : 
 
 NouTHP'i-T 
 
 r>R\IlF,ST KlI7.AI:KTH; 
 to thee, in how many jo-, ■ 
 psrlicipaied ! how have /.-. • 
 llnwed thv hf nrt and evea al 
 
 >:, 
 
 u 
 ov fr- 
 ill the 
 
 ■ t 
 
 fuiKe, li iiitii back vre Uiu loved 
 
 cf hi.** . uway. 
 
 SiiKrnEt.n, Deo. lOih. 1819. 
 
 nuipv — It 
 <»/rf, and i" 
 
 next uiterrupted ; yet, knowmg tiiat il we put i ttiou sat nmgiii^ with Levi that old m^ng, with 
 our trust in the God of Israel, all things will work | llie sad air which I luve so well, it aeemed to me 
 
84 
 
 A mother's peace offertng. 
 
 that I should never see thee agaia ; that I should 
 uever hear that voice till I hear it with the 
 voices of the redeemed. I v^ras sad for hcura 
 after. How I wanted that likeness ! At that 
 time, I had not Voe least idea of leaving Sheffield 
 in monihs. Bat I came, and thy dear self hast 
 taken flight to a Southern chme, far away from 
 early friends. But we ihall meet again. Yes, 
 dear Elizabeth, lime can not preveut us that hap- 
 piness; no, though it take even life iu its all- 
 gra^pi^g hands. 
 
 In the few short weeks that thou hast been 
 away, sad changes have tiken place at that dear 
 spot called home. Truly may we say : "Clouds 
 and darkness are around abouc his habitation !" 
 I hope thou wilt try to comfort ihy brother in 
 t'jis dreadful affliction. Say to him what none 
 but a most loved sister can fay, and in that 
 way that is so winning, so lovely — so thyself — 
 and thou wilt be sure to give comfort. 
 
 You wish to know how we like this place. 
 The seaview is not half so pretty as that spring 
 which flows so cheeringly through your father's 
 door-yard. But there is good practice here for a 
 doctor ; so we may stay lung. In your last, you 
 told me about your school — your pupils. 1 liked 
 the orphans under your charge. Do tell me more 
 about them. 1 was interested iu them. Are 
 
 they relations of Mr. or Mrs. W 's? Have 
 
 ttiey neither father nor mother? Elizabeth 1 
 howthey love you ! Li your next, tell me every 
 thing that has taken place sif:ce I saw you. 
 How I should like to hear you tell it ia your 
 <iuier, sweet way ! 
 
 It is getting late. I must close. May good 
 angels attend tliee, as they have ever done. 
 May hope never deseit thee. May happiness 
 be always thy guest; and may health shine in 
 the lustre of thine haztl eye, and iu the bloom of 
 thy fair cheek ; and mayest thou never forget thy 
 friend, Ei.iz.v. 
 
 Eliza's summons was announcel as she sat 
 listening to the " Queen of May," in the parlor 
 at the Roys' homestead, where were assembled 
 kindred ar.d friends on the occasion of Elizabeth's 
 visit north, which proved her last. To the ad- 
 vantages of her inheritance as a "sweet singer,'' 
 Elizabeth had enjoyed the tra,iuing of an Italian 
 vocalist at the Seminary, and such was the power 
 of her song, that the skeptic was heard to say, 
 " If the music of heaven be such as Elizabeth's, 
 I desire a place there." Tlie seeming idea of 
 Eliza's mind, as she sat listening to the sad air 
 t-ho loved so well, because a UviiKj reaUty iu her 
 life's history. 
 
 Resort op Pataps(.!o's Daughters, 
 Juue 18th, 1849. 
 . . . . I am seated iu a very pleasant grove 
 just back of the Ini-titute. It is the only one 
 wiihin its bound?, and is consequently a great 
 lesort for the young ladies. It is furnished witti 
 seats, and there is also an excellent swicg with 
 two sea's, so that six or eight can swing at a 
 time. Just beyond the grove is a ground where 
 the little girls have their fluwer-beds. The gar- 
 dener prepares the grnund, and the girls nurture 
 the plants. I cime here this mornmg, bringing 
 my writing material?, tor the purpose of writing 
 my composition, but as you sea I have changed 
 
 my mind; for I feel more in humor for writing 
 letters. I only wish that I possessed your powers 
 of description, that I might give you some idea of 
 the scene before me. I can see and point out its 
 beauties, but can not describe them. I can only 
 speak of hills and dales ; shady groves and se- 
 cluded glens ; of cottages and churches, scattered 
 here and there, giving to all a most beaut ful and 
 diversified appearance. In every object I can 
 trace the dngs^^rof God; f r whose haiid lait that 
 of a Supreme Being could have formed this beau- 
 tiful landscape ? The sweet birds resting on the 
 branches of the trees above my head, are warb- 
 ling their chorus of praise to .their Creator. 
 May their example incite us to devote our lives 
 to him. I received your ktter one week to-day, 
 and much pleasure did the perusal aflbrd me. 
 How much I wished that I might spend one 
 morning with ytu in the maoner you describe! 
 I Could well imagine how every thiug appeared. 
 The spring, the old elm-tree, the chamber-win- 
 dow, were brought directly to my view. But 
 one who is associated in my mind wuh the scenes 
 of cbildhood I sought in vain. One vacancy 
 had changed the aspect (jf all else 1 Thoughts 
 of the departed one will cast a shadow of sad- 
 ness over aU, should I ever vh-ic the loved place 
 again. 
 
 Often do I stand and gaze upon the waters of 
 the Patapsco, and think of the lime when she 
 stood by my side on the banks of the noble 
 Housatonic, or sauntered along its water's 
 edge. Now those waters would rt fleet her 
 image on my mind ! The past will never be for- 
 gotten, and as those by-^oue days are again re- 
 called, may I be profited ; and m*y my future 
 life be passed as happily but more tboughtfuUy. 
 Examination will soon coiimience. Oh I it is a 
 dread to me, but it will soon be over, and then 
 tj return to Sheffield vvill be a lliree-ibld recom- 
 pei se. Angie. 
 
 To her Sister L. J. L. 
 
 Nottingham, Va., March 26ih, 1849. 
 
 .... I shall return to the Institute the last 
 of July, and be there at examination to recf ive 
 a diploma. I am studung m'ntal philosv-phy, 
 but I miss very much Mr. Clarke's excellent 
 instructions, which rendered moral philosophy so 
 interesting last winter. I do think Mr Clarke 
 one of the best of men, and one, who while iu 
 the world, hvea above it. He gave us a verse 
 of Scripture to learn evety morniug after prayers, 
 called the " Wosd tor the Day," which reminded 
 
 me of "other days.' K. C says in lier last 
 
 io me: "I would send you the ' W'oid for the 
 Day,' bur. as usual, I have forgotten it. Oh ! how 
 wicked I am to neglect the superior advantages 
 iicre enjoyed for spiiitual improvement! But 
 indeed, Euzabeth, it is my earnest desire to be- 
 came bttter, and I trust Mr. Clarke's good- in- 
 structions will not bo entirelj'^ lost. I am much 
 intercfted in liis private lectures, and regret that 
 he (Jelvers but one more. I can never ei joy a 
 better opportui ity for repentance and resigning 
 my heart to Ctnist. If all these influences are 
 resisted, I shall pa^-s through If-, I lear, a har- 
 dened siuuer. Pray for me, dear Elizabeth." 
 
 If jou are able, I hope you will write her, for 
 I do not feel capable of advising her. 
 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 To her Sister L. J. L. 
 
A MdTIIKKS I'KACK OKFKHINO 
 
 EnsrriBLD, 1849. 
 
 T.) K. C : 
 
 My J^rsn (ifW'. T hnym loner wi«i»M »«> •jvyjk 
 
 tlit< 
 
 Tml 
 
 85 
 
 Wi.ilu 
 n<)l.lt>p 
 
 aUcr my nmral on the Oowtt 
 
 > with us to Miiiiiii 
 
 ilio Citv cr<iiir<!(>«l. 
 
 ;• TiicMl.tV f. oitiiiif i)rnytr-m'^(tiii^ 
 
 to J« Rii4, Aiir irn nt llieh I'rifvt, 
 
 it ihrin nrt f 
 
 r! tT^T<^ timrc 
 
 A foDtl, a " laliitcd moUier" from (he pire. 
 
 [Skxtb] 
 ■ <, ttmn h««» rtl<-.| ' n>i« p*Vr cun I forfot 
 
 finomfiitsoi ! Such 
 
 H ' would 
 
 'i ! mind, 
 
 11 -.diiiitly 
 
 )■ ' those 
 
 <• i of the 
 uiiivfiro; where wo may (orcvcr dwiil with hini 
 
 09 c'li'dr^n nn'\ h'-ir", nn 1 v.ifh h'-" Vr!nv( d Son. 
 
 t'l 
 
 h 
 
 1.;. , .. . 
 of o;if'h is ii 
 «dd--' r,r>-. 
 
 r' 
 
 t'i 
 
 1 ■ 
 
 
 1 i my van 
 
 ■I wfih " 
 
 How 
 
 ■. wliilo 
 
 'f thiit 
 rtdov ' 
 
 It Dcenu a« «ucb aa angcia wear above. 
 
 I hope you will not cease to writ" 
 Your affect: 
 
 I-.. I. 1,. 
 
 r, 
 jys. 
 
 8BCTI0.V V. 
 
 ';e procccdinfr to copy uik1<t datf of 1 S.50, 
 "P to say that this la.st sfction of tl,o Inst 
 oli«pUT of my epistle, opens under d:ito of Janu- 
 ary itlj, 1861. 1 hrive lioion-Hl. th=» tiif-nii-r. to 
 a sermon from F'r ^ .i] 
 
 from our nation's i -,, 
 
 •ytbr kings, and for all thai arc in an- 
 that we may lead quiet and pcaccahlo 
 
 An invitation ia (riven un to aivwmhle in his 
 
 uy of Ood, has the lan- 
 
 k'M 
 
 ! I > I lore the Lord, or no T 
 Sill I bl«, or ant I not?" 
 
 But now t c«n adopt the lanfruaKC of Job: "I 
 
 and pr» ' 
 
 And ■ iptives of otir own lind Ik* 
 
 tau^dit to iook imd wait r>r •: by the 
 
 »>im" pmi-nt npHw-itio'i u> .] .\ fcwr of 
 
 tli' ■ ■ : ' 
 
 !i>tion of that part 
 
 eih. 
 
 W 
 
 Jn 
 
 ! . .1. U 
 :ascI800, 
 
 pardon and i 
 exHtM ''V t' 
 
 ha. I 
 CU 
 
 8uro you 1 • 
 
 found thora < ■ a 
 
 my ta-^tf is not v.u.ii d \,y cvnUv,! \vit„ li.e vul j aj-uit l.-n u*^^ ttuvU au uvuul of ujy l</r««>i]^ht 
 gar and vicious, atnonfj whom my fortune haa I predicted it. 
 
86 
 
 A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 My work, ia this section, will go to show that 
 the house to whioh Mary was allied, is bound to 
 the land of legal bond service by an indissoluble 
 tie. I long served and prayed and waited, in 
 obscurity, relying upon the promise of eternal 
 life to those who, by patient continuance in well- 
 doing, seek for glory and honor and immortality. 
 I looked beyond the skies for the glory, honor, 
 and immortality in reserve for me. But 7iow my 
 faith assures nie that Mary, whom I nurtured for 
 Christ, is to be spoken of tiirough coming genera- 
 tions as the Christian martyr of the 19th cen- 
 tury I the Peace Offering in the divided house of 
 her father, and that of her country's father ! 
 
 You will, perhaps, see with me, that my con- 
 vors'on from my former f4tli upon the subject of 
 slavery has not been effected by direct human in- 
 strunientalitj-, although my becoming proselyted 
 to my former opinion was thus eftected. The 
 only weekly periodicals of my own are, the New- 
 York Independent and the Berkshire Courier. 
 When the subject of martyrdom was Rgitating our 
 land one year since, I offered a contribution to the 
 Courier, the spontaneous production of my own 
 understanding, which I will insert here. 
 
 " BUY THE TRUTH, AND SELL IT NOT." 
 
 That I may do this, I would be very careful to 
 ascertain, without any chance for mistake, that I 
 am right before proceeding far in any walk of life. 
 And in the pursuit of any new branch of know- 
 ledge, I would seek to be able to define accu- 
 rately all the terms of which I make use in my 
 progress. 
 
 On the subject o? martyrdom, I am led to think 
 that if every one is a martyr who dies prema- 
 turely, while doing wliat he supposes to be right, 
 in consequence of such doing, we have many mar- 
 tyrs. And if every one is a martyr who dies 
 prematurely in consequence of the doings of those 
 upon whose doing ho is dependent, and who think 
 themselves right, our list of martyrs is greatly 
 increased. These are cases which my judgment 
 can only dispose of by committing them to the 
 Judge of all the earth, who will do right, although, 
 as a jealous God, he visits the iniquities of pa- 
 rents upon children unto the third and fourth 
 generation of them that hate him. 
 
 But if he only is a martyr who dies prematurely 
 for standi'.g at the post of duty, as it is plainly 
 written out by God, or by the powers he has or- 
 dained, defending Juniself and the truth, dearer to 
 him than self, only with wcajions that are not 
 carnal, depending on God and 7wi himself to pull 
 down the strongholds of sin, I ask tn be pointed 
 to the grave of the martyr of the present age. 
 The eye of the Omniscient beholds if there be 
 one such grave, and the power of the Omnipotent 
 will produce from every such one a plenteous 
 harvest of righteousness and peace to bless the 
 earth. R. 
 
 ******* 
 
 When the strong man, full of assurance, goes 
 forth to duty with more of a neighhor-sacrificing 
 than self-sacrificing spiiit, until God meets him, 
 holds him in check, and measures unto him as he 
 had purposed to mete unto his neighbor, I can 
 not discern the martyr in that man. He may 
 be the /tero/r m in ; he ??}a7/ be the Christian; he 
 may, by the latest fires of his trial-life, become 
 completelv sanctified. But when I shall huve 
 
 arrived at the time and place of examination, I 
 do not expect to see him in the class of which 
 righteous Abel stands at the bead. 
 
 Rut IT. 
 
 The portion above the stars appeared in the 
 Courier. That below was omitted. I offered the 
 clipping to the Independent but have not seen 
 it in its columns. It may have been there, for I 
 do not read much, knowing the truth stated by my 
 phrenologist, that I must avoid nervous excitabili- 
 ty. I have been constrained, ever since Mary's 
 death, as I valued my mortal life, to avoid all 
 those scenes and assemblies where is apparent 
 the spirit which slew her; whether it be speak- 
 ing evil of the absent, or speaking harshly to the 
 sensitive, suffering brain. There has been a time 
 when I was obliged to take my seat in my own 
 church, ^remote from the stove, around which 
 gathered au assemblj^ during the intervals of 
 pubUc worship, discu-sing the merits or demerits 
 of the holy man of God, who for forty years went 
 in and out before that people, brgaking unto 
 them the bread of life ; and who only asked that 
 in liis retirement from pastoral dutits, v.hieh in- 
 firmity incapacitated him to discharge, lie might 
 leave his name upon the church's list, until it 
 should be stricken from the list of the living. 
 But the plea for disunion gained the ascendency. 
 Yet God sent among ns one who had been 
 trained to venerate llie fathers,* to stand at 
 the foot of his coflin, and invite the multitudes 
 assembled to lit^ten to the sermon of Rev. Dr. 
 Todd over this pastor's mortal remains, to a last 
 look of those features resplendent with manly 
 and Christian benignity, in tones and terms suited 
 to the character of one of the most holy and 
 venerable of reverend men. 
 
 I will here intimate that it is as natural that 
 the teacher contributor si'Ould talk of definitions 
 and exaoninations, as that the merchant farmer 
 should talk of '^ a parcel of land.'" I once heard 
 an intelligent physician express surprise that Mr. 
 Little could not be persuaded that bodies do not 
 as truly radiate cold as heat. The physician did 
 not know that Mr. L. had committed himself to 
 that opinion in a writing I have copied into this. 
 Another committal of his I will note here. 
 
 " Restraint would blast each pleasure at its birth, 
 And leave but pain to tranquillize the mind." 
 
 Here, in my opinion, lies one ^ouree of the 
 evil under which our country writhes to-day. 
 The goddess " Liberty " has come to be the 
 Baal of too many American boasters and Ameri- 
 can worshipers. Freedom from wholesome re- 
 straint of parent or master, either at home or at 
 school, during the character- forming period of 
 life — freedom from the labor in some useful call- 
 ing which earns the bread, is too much the " free- 
 dom " sought and " freedom " obtained. Like 
 the freedom enjoyed by the sons of a priest of 
 yore, it brings desolation, sooner or later, to the 
 house where it obtains. It paves the way to 
 covetousness or to a desire to obtain supplies for a 
 liisting mortality, by direct or indirect robbery or 
 thefr. I rejoice to believe that this generation is 
 to be succeeded by a more mature and Christian 
 view of human interest. That the sons of the 
 immortal Washington are yet to stand before the 
 
 c 
 
 * Mr. Joseph Hyde. 
 
A MOTHKKti I'KACE OFFKUING. 
 
 rmlioDH iiM willoivH hy tito wutnr-ooiirMw ; aud \ I am at a Ium fur ljtnKit<i«« U> nxpruM tho nvt- 
 
 111-' .... .- .. ,..,... 
 
 ^ you wiii con(«r 
 Yuuis vuy ttulv, 
 
 li.'li. SlMilUS 
 
 II.MX.S or Patatbco, Marcli 2-2»l, 185't. 
 
 \v 
 
 II 
 
 ot 
 li 
 
 l< : 
 
 lu: 
 I... 
 li. 
 
 v 
 
 lliutte in nu' 
 
 iro. T lea Mr \'. 
 
 of Mr. W. Wo I 
 
 ll: ■ 
 
 lii 
 
 li. • 
 
 Uieni. 
 
 8l, . 
 
 WO had a tine vie\\ 
 I.ihrnry, where we 
 
 •oks, pajntii.^'i, cif. 
 
 .in<i b;iy ; ibo « ily 
 il hours in Iix^king 
 We .'i)so viisiieU a 
 
 I) roudy to .sail fur Cahfornia. Il is to go 
 
 til 
 
 ivcr. 
 
 . I 1, 
 
 r f-j.oat a wivk iiiori.- jii ;i-.i:;tlv 
 
 t: . 
 li. 
 ri 
 d,- 
 
 qti. 
 
 huly III' u un 
 ftbaurtiity to 
 pn)r(.«>«ioii ol 
 
 |K\^pll' id I - 
 
 mui oil ■ ■ 
 that I 
 
 lUiir.i; 
 
 nf thr hori'i bptwr.-r 
 
 .1, LuUu^ki:, I., 
 iif uo hiriu. 1 
 
 .it liuu; t 
 U> ii>r 
 
 ■;u'r :i.ini \u< ii.in'i oi i oi. n. i;. >;iiiiii' k, .\l.i 
 
 To Mhs. P,i 
 
 Dkar Madam: I «"»»t mva^-Jf in p«rfomi the 
 
 piinful l;»sk of u: " .f Mias 
 
 Roys. She died t. .t cold. 
 
 hcu: .-...• .... V, 
 have bocu, in coa. 
 
 .1 
 
 le. 
 
 I 
 ■ o 
 
88 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 Mrs. Phelps" private {xirloi' to share entertaiumunf; 
 with lier. . . . Elizabeth. 
 
 L. J. L. 
 
 Patap.co Institute, May 10th, ]840. 
 
 . . . I am happy to lenni that you and 
 Charhe are so pleasautly located, and hope you may 
 both be benefited by the refresh'na; sea-breezes 
 and bathing, which will be deliglitful during the 
 warm season. If your strength shall prove suffi- 
 cient for your duties, you will probably spend a 
 pleasant summer, wliich I hope may be the case. 
 I was surprised to learn that sister Pamelia is 
 thought to be dangerously ill. The latest in- 
 formation I had had seemed to intimate her con- 
 valescence. I have often thought of her, and 
 have felt a desire to know tlic state of her mind 
 in regard to her future well-being ; and when in 
 the solitude of my chamber, I have breathed 
 fervent aspirations to " Him who doeth all things 
 well,'' she ha'? not been forgotten. Little did I 
 imagine that while I was feeling for her the most 
 intense solicitude, she was even then enjo3'ing, 
 in a flu' greater degree than myself, the light of 
 God's reconciled countenance 
 
 The information you gave, is to me a source of 
 the greatest comfort. May it serve to awaken 
 tny own conscience and stimulate me to greater 
 devotediiess to the cause I profess to love; for I 
 sometimes fear lest the many 'hindrances to a 
 holy life which I daily and hourly meet with, 
 may prove a snare to me. Oh ! may I learn to 
 form a right estimate of the comparative value of 
 heavenly and earthly things 1 
 
 " Beyond tlie sky 
 Thy home is fixed; thereon be fixed thy love ; 
 Nor seek froui earth, what earth can ne'er supply.'' 
 
 You wish to learn bow I progress. My teach- 
 ers say I am doing well but I think my jarogress 
 slow. Indeed, I think my ear for music is a de- 
 triment to my reading it rapidly with my tiogers. 
 I have just taken my first snng with the guitar. 
 Mis Plielps asked me to remember her to you, 
 and say she sympathizes with you in your afflic- 
 tion. Much love to Charlie. Tell hun I am 
 teaching Mrs. Phelps' little grandson whose name 
 is Charlie O'Brien. He is five years old, and has 
 just such black eyes as Cliarlie Little. 
 
 Do not delay writing to Elizabeth. 
 
 L. J. L. 
 
 Patapsco Sejiinary, 
 May 19th, 1850, Sabbath Eve. 
 
 Dear Sister : You may be siu'prised to re- 
 ceive another letter so soon. Coange, which is 
 marked on all below the skies, seems to be my 
 lot. Before another Sabbath eve I shall probably 
 be faTj very far from this, even on my way to 
 Louisiana. Yoa wdl be surprised at tli's intelli- 
 gence, and perhaps will think me unwise in tak- 
 ing such a step. Colonel Simmes came horn 
 Louisiana iu pursuit of a governess, and ilrs. 
 
 P had no teacher thnt she cou'd send unless 
 
 I would go. She would like my services here, 
 but con.sidera that it will be for my own interest 
 t5 go. I had but a few moments given me to 
 decide, and I left it to Mrs. Phelps' better judg- 
 ment. 
 
 Tne C3S6 was soon decided, and Colonel 
 Simmes left for Virginia. To-day I received a 
 line from hicn, saying that he will meet me in 
 Baltimore next Wednesday evening, and start 
 
 for New-York Thursday morning. Now cm yoti 
 not meet me at Judson's Ho'e', New- York, and 
 spend Thursday night with me ? If you are well 
 enough, please do so. for I may not see you ajjoin 
 for years, if ever. We are to go by way ( f La'te 
 Erie, and the Ohio as-d Mississippi rivers. A 
 pleasant route. I wish so much that I could go 
 home, but suppose th-t C'JU not be. I can hard- 
 ly realize that I am g )ing fo far from all I love, 
 but hope it may be for the best. My 'rust is in 
 Him alone, " who doe:h all things well." 
 
 I must needs be brie^, as I have other lettets 
 to write, and I shall hope to see you and tell 
 you ail. Farewell for the present. 
 
 Your affectionate sister, Elizabeth. 
 
 Louisiana, June 6lb, 1850. 
 My Dfar Father: Truly I can bear witness 
 to the verity of the assertion, " Change is the lot 
 of mortals." Within the space of three short 
 weeks has the plan been conceived, suggested, 
 considered, decided, and executed, of my leaving 
 Maryland, and taking up a temporary residence 
 in the extreme part of our Union. Yes, I am 
 really here in Louisiana, though I am hardly 
 aVjle to realize the fact, so sudden has been the 
 transition. Perhaps myfriends may feel to blame 
 me in this decision. I have in part sacriticf-d my 
 own inclination to the advica I sought in re- 
 ference to the matter, and if I have ern-d, I hope 
 to be f)rgiven. I had, us I supposed, become 
 quietly settled at Ellicolt'.-i Mills, for the summer, 
 when Mrs. Phelps had a call from Colonel Simmes 
 of this plac;-<, who was in pursuit of a governess. 
 She had known of the flimily, and was very 
 sorrjr to refuse him a teacher, but she had sent 
 out all that were prepared to teach this year, and 
 could not supply him uidesi she spare'i one of 
 her own teachers. She proposed that / sliould 
 go. The coiiditions were stated, and a few mo- 
 ments left me to decide. The result you know. 
 Mr. Simmes was to spend a few days in Wash- 
 ington ; meanwhile I was to prepare to accom- 
 pany him. He told me he siiould go the 
 northern route, via New- York and the lake.s, 
 and Ohio and Mississippi rivers. I thought 
 perhaps lie would be willing to take the Hous- 
 atonic railrortd from New-York, and .so stop 
 in Sheffield: but my anticipations were tot 
 to be rea'iz' d I left Mrs. Poelps on Wednesday 
 evening, May 2"2d, for Baltimore. Angie and 
 Mrs. Carr, who had spent the day at the Insti- 
 tute, accompanied me. Mr. S. did not arrive till 
 the next morning. He informed me that he had 
 been ill since he saw me, and had concluded to 
 take the shortest route home, which, though not 
 as pleasant, would occupy no more than half 
 the time. We left Baltimore on Friday m rning, 
 24th ; passed throuuh Washington on the cats ; 
 sailed down the Potomac, and t'^ok the cars 
 again for liichraond, Va., aud Wiinoiiif'toii. N. C. ; 
 travelfcd through the night, arrived at Wilming- 
 ton at one p.m., Saturday, where we took a 
 steamer fur Charleston. The sea was rough, and 
 nearly all on board were sick, myself amDng the 
 the rest. Lauded at Charleston, Sabtia'.h morn- 
 ing, breakfisted, and took the cars f ^r Aus^usta, 
 where we arrived about dark. Took another 
 train, and rode during the night. Breakfasted at 
 Ac'anta, Ga., aud arrieed at Grifion about noon, 
 whe-e we took the stage for Montgom'iiy, Ala., 
 a distance of ninety -five miles. The roads 
 
A MOIMKKS PKACK OKKKHlNti. 
 
 I n« Ariv i)i!(i(r hnt fo<i«), •nd I l^tynn to m*far > th*t I nhciitl/l pnwvi^ (n k r'«w-Vira«t with tht' 
 
 ti ■ 
 1, 
 
 0\ 
 
 t 
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 !• 
 
 ll 
 
 fur, 
 lOHVO I 
 
 K'' 
 
 J 
 
 \S 
 
 t 
 
 ( 
 
 IlluiJv r|i|>f.-Mr<lilC4 Ui lilt? i) 
 
 lolil. lo itiH nioimtiro of tho 
 
 ■ a 
 
 i Hill 
 
 The 
 
 ■vel— 
 
 a very h 
 
 -i> far, Hlict I 
 
 ;>o lo du biUur Itiuii by ; 
 I Kdkii AiifrUNt*, (*•.. I 
 
 for '• I. . 
 
 u\d IIIH'i ; ^ray liruUmi ; lilH 
 
 c\ ■' ■ ■ 
 
 di: 
 
 Hllii I'lIU .t 
 UlidtT t. ^t 
 
 evenititr ^^o 
 for Moiiili- 
 
 r> ' 
 
 n. 
 n I 
 
 litv D. i'r.ill, a hUti.iior 
 
 I o'cltK-k Die boat ran 
 
 I (lid uot dure 
 
 iipU were bo n;? 
 
 . 1 .wl II .. h ..'. r 
 
 ■ ttil iW(X»Ufll 
 
 01 
 
 111 
 
 O 
 
 P • 
 
 ll. 
 
 III.' .. ^., 
 
 when, u> niy fffi'Bt jm, l»«iwwii e'even and 
 tM'e>v«> f«l it'^ht. I Mt mv hii-l frndiiiilv 
 
 da 
 Ki 
 
 Bt" 
 Cl. 
 
 U : 
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 ain 
 
 wai I.) 
 wliioh 
 
 Ss'. ■ 
 \v< 
 
 down ihe d lii to l>ake I'or 
 
 w.- firriv-d nn S.ituHnv n-r: 
 
 UK'", fXi-rpt lo liiu carriHgu 
 n« tn ))!« rco'dofl^o. On 
 
 !• ' •■. 
 
 Orleaiif. Mr. S. k . 
 
 ingr Willi hoDies b'. . ;i 
 
 crevnwo had occurred liiHt had cf>vered ihe 
 
 roadA iieailj the whole di't-mc nnfl :t vr^" ir- 
 
 iKfflibie lo d'ivo « r»irri:Ke ' 
 
 I co'jld ride&D hors Ivv.k Ir 
 
 lew uiiUtrflUHKl (iId luoUveA, and ibi- r 
 
 hs finil dtfoil; but t»-rit hf wn« : 
 
 down bis life in the 
 
 Ooin; and alio i Id ' 
 
 main.". lie tilicjuld HiiMavr.- i^r.; y :< .r- :< rn-\ 
 
 aud pnueed to the Island ; HUd \vh- n ibe it- 
 
 hnbilaiiis are convii'-.i .• i' •• >■' •• i' 1 i-* 
 
 motives, ho tea's i 
 
 for hiint<elt wi allh ■ 
 
 enjoyed boih to bis 
 
 porlant nflRp«>« {,f i 
 
 r of M liM I. M -J .r-' , • . ; ,1 ■ : i';c 
 at a isaUry of tifiy tliou»«nd do]- 
 
 I received a leuer from brother 
 week, wrillen at Panama directed i 
 tiitc, and forwarded lo this place. Ik< wan will 
 and in g>'vl spirit". 
 
 I fear I have wenritd ymi with r 
 and will dvftr wbit 1 would say 
 
 " ■• a"k broiber L^^vi t' ,■■. -.-, it 
 
 - I am very anxious to h«^r 
 
 ■ to ftiniiiHsport, Avoyelles, La. 
 1 no to all. From your afTcctiontlo 
 R KoYS. 
 
 Whitk Hall, Ln., June 27lb, 1850. 
 
 r .,-f. ti - I.... 1.- ..,..■!, ir.i-.. t,.. .,t- .v.! 
 
 .Sln». 6. ifils Oil' .- 
 ni nbioji'inj' H pi"i. 
 
 old. Rur.ABin'iL 
 
 L. J. I. 
 
 NoUTiU'ORT, Aup. 2'J'I. 1850. 
 
90 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 lad.> — a happy Cnristian. Cculd her most inti- 
 mate friend have more justly deliaealed the re- 
 fiaement of her manners? tlie elevation ( f her 
 miria ? In that blessed land whither tho las 
 flown, what advancement will she make in all 
 those graces and attaiamenta which endeared 
 her so much to ail who had the happiness to 
 know her while she was a resident of earth. 
 She had a peculiar and most happy mental or- 
 ganizatiin. To know her, was to love her. 
 What a blessing: have I ever considered it that 
 Elizaneth was my friend — that from my earliest 
 youth she was my cho:-en associate! and with 
 unspeakable grief at our grep.t loss, I can fully 
 testify that for purity of mind aud couscieu- 
 tiousness of action, I never knew her surpassed. 
 Truly may we say of her, 
 
 " Thou wert unfit to dwell with clay. 
 For sin too pure, for earth too bright ; 
 And death, who called thee hence away, 
 Placed uri his brow a gem of light."' 
 
 And I v/il! ever reuietiib'»r Iier ■a.H a strain of 
 rich, unearthly melody, which fi''st awakened in 
 ray soul a delight in harmomous sounds — a love, 
 a longing after music, whether produced hy the 
 human voice or that "unwritten raelo'iy" which 
 has filli d creation .since t'^e time wlien the morn- 
 iug stars sang together, and the sous of God 
 shouted for joy ! 
 
 I inclose half a leaf wdiich I had gathered 
 and prepared to put into my next letter to dear 
 Elizabeth. I searched for the mo^t ftMgraut of 
 plants as a fit offe-'iog to my friend, not thinking 
 xh^t the angel of death was abroad on the same 
 errand, a';d that before my simple gift could 
 rea-.h her, she would be gathered to beautity 
 the mansions of the Eternal. One half I send 
 to you, the other I shall always keep as a pleas- 
 iag remsmbranee of my frieu'l All our re- 
 membrances of her must be pleasant, must be 
 delightful. There was nothing sad, nothing 
 melancholy in her life or her death. Truly 
 may we admire the life and death of a Chri-t- 
 ian^ when it is a subject of so much j..«y to 
 the angels in heaven ! Please to copy what 
 Elizabeth wrote to me in her last k-iter to you. 
 Do write paiticulars. Tell me how your father 
 sustains the shock, and how your brother Levi 
 conseijts to endure life since the dtsire of bis 
 eyes has passed away. Pk-ase t^ll me of your 
 own hea'.tt), and remember that whatever trans- 
 pires in old Sheffield is of interest to one whose 
 childhood aud youth were spent there, at.d 
 whose present phice of abode is so widely unlike 
 what, youthful dreams pictured as my residence, 
 whtn I should come to woman's es-.ate. 
 
 Eliz.a.. 
 
 E L I Z A li K T ir . 
 
 When I have felt U'lon ray feverish brow 
 The coiilins breeze that rou d the in 'untain hii<at 
 Had 'ingerrd, sighing through the frustv pint's ; 
 Or whpn my >iiul was troubled, .nnd the hour 
 Of twilight's stilness brought a pleasing balm, 
 Sueh tlien was that calm luxury of bbss 
 That in thy pr sen<-e I liave always found, 
 Sweet, lost Elizabeth ! When thou didst sing, 
 An angel seemed to w rble in thy voice, 
 Tiiine \vas such soft, such melting melody! 
 And in thy smile there whs a playfu'ness, 
 Te ling of so pure and innocent a heart, 
 That I have th .nght myself approved and better, 
 By e'e i one smiling glance from thy blue eye. 
 
 Thy conversation w.is so like th.'sclf ! 
 
 So gently mild ! Not one injurious uord. 
 
 Or one harsh thought unspoken, I divine. 
 
 Hath pained another, or hath giieved thyself. 
 
 Mild wast thou, yet tlrm in goodness, as the 
 
 I'eeo calm strea ii, which can not be del.ayed. 
 
 But howe'er nulely ruffled, s-nks to rest again. 
 
 With heaven ever beamins from its face — 
 
 Too purely good to tarry in a world 
 
 AVhere ihou didst count thyself but journeying through 
 
 To happier realms beyond. 
 
 Thou hast escaped, ere friends were well aware. 
 
 And left those smitten with a selti'-h grief 
 
 Who would have wrestled lona, to have retained 
 
 In thee, the angel of so many blessings. 
 
 Now gone to be angelically blessed. 
 
 Baltimobk, Aug. 1850. 
 
 Sm-'FFIELD, Aug. 9th, 1850. 
 Mrs. a. H. L. Phelps: 
 
 Dear Madam : Yours, conveying the sad in- 
 telligence of my sister's death, was duly received, 
 and would have whelmed me with grie'i iiad I not, 
 through grace, so attained as distinctly to see the 
 liAud of a wise and graciou.s God in every event of 
 life. I have learned that it is good to give back 
 to God the choicest of his gifts, sa prepense is 
 the human heart to bestow upon the gift, the love 
 that is due to the giver. Elizabeth is the tiist to 
 be taken from a loving band of eleven mother- 
 less ones, who will feel that death haih not 
 spared to take the ch'ticest of the flock. May 
 heaven sustain the hearts bleeding with so deep 
 a wound. She was in early life a pupil of mine, 
 and I was happy to commend her to oae so quali- 
 fied as yoursfclf to impart instruction to her in 
 later rears. I cordially approve your course 
 ill relation to her and s'ster Angie, avjd f fter you 
 my sincere and heartfelt tiianks for the d. ep in- 
 terest you ha^e manifested in their vvellare, far 
 beyond what I had reason to look for. May 
 heaven reward you a thou*and-fold. It is evi- 
 dent to me that Elizabeth was not sutBciently 
 strong to undertake the journey to Louisiana, 
 but you knew it not, and she lackt^d independ- 
 ence, enabling her to cousult her own feelings. 
 This God withheld in his unerring wisdom. It 
 was best that her pilgrimage should eud, and 
 she enter upon her " everlasting rest." The 
 thought of her dying a stranger in a strange 
 laud, adds intensity to the affliction of those who 
 so ardently loved her. Bat I have not a doubt 
 that her divine Shepherd was with her in the 
 " dark valley," and that she p-issed it fearing 
 no evil. Yours, L. J. Little. 
 
 Eaton's Neck, L. L, Sept. 30lh, 1850. 
 Helen! bow are heaven's atiracd^ns in- 
 creasing, and earth's lessening with me ! yet a 
 few strong ties remain lo bind me to earth — a 
 few reasons for seeking to prolong my weari- 
 some pilgrimage here. Then let me forbear at- 
 tempting to give utterance to the string emo- 
 tions that crowd around my heart as I contem- 
 plate addressing you. The great Physician 
 mercifully binds up the broken heart, and it 
 were wrong so to dwell upm our losses, dis.tp- 
 pointments, and bereaveQieut^, as to tear open 
 the wounds and cauf^e them to bleed afresh. 
 You ask tlie particulars in reference to the diflfi- 
 eulties in our church in Sheffield. I would not 
 like to go into detail. Wh'le many accuse Mr. 
 B. of disturbing the peace of the church by un- 
 advi-edly presenting a request which should call 
 out the true feeling, I can discern nothing but 
 
A MOTHKUS FSACE OFFKKING. 
 
 91 
 
 the li»c(J or Hiiu who workelb aooordiuft to the I einoe Uio death of Um Rort that "her health 
 
 1 (tif>y irum 1 ii" i' 
 ana, Jul'j 2()ili, Itt^u, iu< 
 
 I>ied, at White Hall, ibo ns 
 Siimwcit, oi) the Uiti iuMt., Mi.-< 
 Tne ilto<-MM-d KB^ a naiive ol 
 
 fa' i ': 
 
 t 
 
 ! 
 
 I:.' 
 
 a- ; 
 
 the luiiuiy o: 
 
 tion. by the I 
 
 .vurda: 
 
 ii" 
 
 
 Hi. 
 
 . L. 
 
 l/ouifti- 
 
 pcauu 
 atJU to I 
 I 
 
 iiy: 
 
 
 I U> a(X'«pt a Hiiutiiuii, :> 
 J. t! )il WfUJ toudertil lior m 
 •1. Ill ihm ltt*l oilUA- 
 .^riiiHhilily of hor duipo- 
 
 nr. ()u< 
 
 i< r tiio ' 
 tl(»« lir<«!. 
 
 work." 'Mv fatbur! U 
 
 iv»id ir'im lor 
 
 • cjuiii have Oecii no 
 
 » »hai would haxe Jm- 
 
 k to her frieud^ 
 
 "TO preneral «tm- 
 
 8iio repeated Itie Loro'a prayer, a (^hed. and wan 
 no ni rf>. Tlio doHthhid of your pi«tf-r ^is a 
 pri . Wb8 div. 
 
 t' led and i r 
 
 tic.-. ! 
 a nioiir 
 pcene oi a ■ 
 dread of et<r 
 wbero to l.cr ...... 
 
 exu'ting triun)ph of n 
 
 bloom and purity ; rni^' : 
 
 the HCf in«a nf worldly tl in^f, to h 
 
 worl'l : •■rp'k'rtr <^IT ihf> f lt<»r^ ' 
 
 I. 
 
 e well 
 
 ..f <iu- 
 
 !■;» 
 
 r.irri*: 
 : Madam 
 
 aud re'pLHji of u.l. iItt Ut<it*i i,H>i lK:eii aiu- 
 cerely mourned, and left a blauk in our little 
 community diffioult to l»e filled. 
 
 Mri>. rhelpo writes ui tliat ahe has aacertainod 
 
 .i»tr», the powtr of elu.injf 
 
 M. 
 
 ATCHALArATA, Oc*., 1860. 
 I regret that a reflfxinaa to 
 
 will bo with tiice in tro.. 
 holy writ, nud fiom thi. 
 you havederivcd coni»ola'K>ii. Mi-f 
 I tion for \oii (-%ctH'de<i that of n 
 
 II inui.iintii>ii, and nt lb* iiead ui ikt ^rave 
 nd* A l'Ui?o oak-tree. T'l** ^^'^l;■») ■fir<«. a 
 .n. (lows nt 
 
 HitO WRH c 
 
 p< wo. ?.; 
 loans in ... 
 
 warded at tti i 
 
 that ci'y the i < 
 
 they are ahipp d. in cwt.i.R', dv.r i..u..;i.i;, ^»tr- 
 mit me to aaxiiro yoti tliat year »i«t4'r wt<!i an 
 
 ! that 
 ll can 
 
 Very ^i^ccrely your?, Mabt Mmmf.s. 
 
 Hampton, Ve., Aujr. 24ih, l^.■. '. 
 DEARHin' Ki.ijsa: Your leufr has jut r. .i nd 
 ir.e. I CAH but an- ' :ier c«n I nfrain 
 
 from writing. O K -j loved one, ibe 
 
n 
 
 A MuTHEirS TEAOE OFP^P.RING, 
 
 favorite of all hearts! tlie tears fall fast while 
 I d'svell on thy cherished memory. How inFcru- 
 table are the ways of Piovideiice ! In vain 
 may we a-^k, Wnere^ore, wlierefore, Lord? 
 Her la*t hours without one kindred ; her c-rave 
 among strangers; and she, the darlinp: one, 
 wtioni all hearts loved, whom all woukl have 
 folloived mourning! Oh! do no", tell me she is 
 dead I Let the awful sentence be reversed ! 
 Does stillness reign in that once throbbing 
 hear.. ? Does silence f )rever dwell on those 
 heavenly lips? Do not tell me thus; 'twill 
 breaiv my heart. Could I share my grief, it 
 would not be so overwhelming. But I, too, am 
 a stranger. No kindred neir can weep with me 
 her sudden, unexpecttd doom. Oh I deares-t 
 Eliza! the voice ot nature spake not an untruth 
 to your ear at the news of htr departure ! The 
 mighty waters hnn% back her requiem. The star 
 of evening upon which I have loved to gaze beams 
 upon her quet tomb. N"o footfall of relative or 
 frie'id brfaks upon that lonely retreat. Sweet- 
 ne>s, iua<icenc'^, loveliness, there lie entombed, 
 but the heedless stranger kn 'ws it no'. Her 
 visage is before me throuded, pale in dentil 
 Sw. et, gentle cousin, art thou fallen ? Fallen ! 
 No; truly emancipated, risen, glorified. Thou 
 art redeemed. The last curse has passed, and 
 new, un old beauties adorn thee. On a heavenly 
 harp thou art; echoing the Saviour's praise. Un- 
 ceasirig tiallelujihs resound from thv ransomed 
 spirit. Thou art another from our circle that 
 has joinel the cele.-itial throng. Soon all our 
 trea.-ures will be there, and our hearts surely 
 can no', linger here. I t:*ke up your letter agam 
 and again to read. I had devoted this day to 
 prayer. But alas! alas! my heart refuses to 
 rise. Faith seems to fail. 
 
 " How true it is that 
 Spirits of goodness w.Uk our eartli, 
 
 Anrl grace this sin-worn mold ; 
 Yet we Ivnow not their peerl-'ss worth. 
 
 Nor prize the gift we hnkl, 
 Till with outstretched wings they take their flight, 
 We view an angel fading from our sight." 
 
 2Wi August, Monday. — Yesterday was with me 
 a day df prayer and sadness, ot hope atjd 
 despfmdencv. An April day of sunshine and 
 shower. I ff It awfully solemn. Etarnity, with 
 its al'iodes of happine-s and misery, was vividly 
 before ''oe. Tnis morning, in prayer, I have en- 
 joyed much of the Saviour's presence and love, 
 A like se-is-n I never before experienced. I 
 longed f: r some Christian friend to whom I 
 could impart my joj'. . . . Dearest Eliza are 
 you not aware how a word (without the speak- 
 er's dc-sign, for some know not wlieu they smite) 
 somfcti'iies wounds the exquisite sensibilities of 
 our natures? You are not unmindful that rude 
 hands sometimes grasp these most delicate 
 fiii-rs of our hearts. You, I doubt; not, have 
 felt lieenly the p-iiuful vibrations cius&d by un- 
 skillful fingers upon the finely tuned harp of the 
 soiil. The effect is to drive more clo?ely to the 
 Friend, the tenderest Fiiend tliat heaven so 
 freely sends us. Helen. 
 
 Atciialafata, July 11th, 1850. 
 Mks. Little: 
 
 Dear Madam: You recognize the hand of a 
 stranger writing to you. You have doubiless 
 been inf.irmod thai your sister, our dear Miss 
 
 Elizabeth Roys, breached hc-r last on the morn- 
 ing of the 9:h inst, and that yesterday a 
 sad and mourning community accompanied her 
 body to the grave. Although she arrived 
 only a few short weeks since, yet, as Mr. Simme.^' 
 nrares!; neiarhbor, I had frequent opportunities of 
 .'•eein-,< Miss Roy.s, hoth there and at our house ; 
 and each time that. I saw her only tended to 
 confirm and strengthen the high esteem which I 
 felt for her at first. Already were Mrs. Simmes 
 and myself congratulatiog ourselves on the 
 prospect of having our children educated by 
 such a good Chrisii-an and such an intelligent 
 woman, when our prospects were cut otf, and 
 she who was so much better than we deserved, 
 or had a right to expect, was taken from us, and 
 transferred to the regitms of the blessed. Dur- 
 ing her sickness, we could not realize that she 
 must die. We said no, she will live ; she can 
 d > too much good. God will spare her li'e for 
 his name's sake. But now that the immutable 
 fiat has gone forth, we submit with stricken 
 hearts, and try to say with her: "Whatever God 
 •does' is for the best." It was on the fourth thar 
 we sent for Miss Roys to dine wi h us, thinking 
 she had got over her indisposition, wh;ch was 
 but slight at firi^t. She was too sick to come, 
 and after dinner I went over to see her; and 
 during the evening I told her I had hoped for 
 the pleasure of i'ltroducing her to a countryman 
 of ber.'^, my brotlier-in-law, and also my sister, 
 on that day, but that I had had a double di.-ap- 
 pointment, for my sister was sick, and she was sick, 
 and neither could come. She replied : " What- 
 ever God does is for the best." After her fever 
 had left her, she fainted and began to grow cold, 
 and not the mo-t powerful stimulants known to 
 the medical profession could e>tablish a rciictiou 
 on the sy.>-te:n. She se.'-nied to sink away with- 
 out p'dn, and breattied her last as an infart going 
 to its re->t. I assist- d in performing the last sad 
 offices of preparing her body for the ^rave, 
 thiuking, so may I find a tender fiiend to do for 
 me in my last i.eed. She sleeps betieath a 
 lovely oak ; and it shall be our care to keep the 
 memory of the teacher whom they loved so 
 much ever fresh in the remembrance of our 
 children, by encouraging them to plant the 
 flowers which she loved near her grave, and to 
 teach them that death is robbed of all its terrors 
 when the Christian dies. It may be a sad con- 
 solation to her friends to know that she had 
 every attention which a daughter wou'd have 
 had in Mr. Simmes' farnily, and tint her phy- 
 sician would rank high in any community ; and 
 that nothing might be wanting on his part, he 
 had been acquainted with Miss Roys since the 
 day of her arrival, (he being a brother-in-Uw ot 
 Mrs. Simmes,) and could f!pi)reciate her excellent 
 qualities, and the los.= whi'h society wwild sus- 
 tain in her death. I pray Grid, madam, that, he 
 may assist you in supporting the afflction whicli 
 you must feel for the loss of a beloved sisrer. 
 Yours sincerely, Laur,4. E. Tessier. 
 
 Atciialafata Post-Office, 
 Parish of Point Coupee, March 10th 18.51. 
 Dear Mrs. Little: I received your kind letter 
 written in (Jctober last, and have deferred a reply 
 until we had adorned your sister's grave with 
 flowers, as we intended. Mrs. Simmes' f nuily 
 and my own united in planting out the slirubber3-. 
 
A MorilKKS PKACK OFFEUING. 
 
 98 
 
 iviid it is all Rrowlii.' liu. 1/ no.v. T.. j.!vc vrn ' lain ofniy h.-'fivrrl wiriV -nli.-itrdo for your ►wcct 
 nume i'l-m «ii tn •< which a 
 
 MJMi; i{<..-.' Ti :i iny own 
 
 lllllMl. 
 
 iiav< 
 oak, 
 
 <l 111 till' luui ol Uii- 
 
 tli.< ; 
 Kll.. 
 and 
 will, 
 to . 
 wol; 
 
 s UiiU" eU.ii..i. 
 I Jul now, t 
 
 tlint 
 prc- 
 MrT. 
 
 way. I \ 
 
 livo liin" . 
 
 Hut Utii^ uipiikiil ul uU luiitfixus iHiviirgiti by 
 
 UuviiiK »i'i ''Inirfli. I lifivf> to biv ii<>\v tlint i nn) 
 
 noli.. 
 
 of,, 
 
 to I ...L.V 
 
 uuc : aid [ 
 
 eoir. 1 her 
 
 il'shu w.vt nut 8urpri.'(<<l tutimi ni-uiiiinuiiiiy wiiich 
 
 lirct'-inl'fl to ntiv ri"';!i ■:i!cnl nt all without n 
 
 I'd. " 1 was not pn- 
 
 ' 11 uoikI deal of my 
 
 ■ ' \ biit I can 
 
 . tiiid siiu 
 
 ilA Ul^iil Ullliii liic l<J'>lL>lif{ ol iti.i;<.ln. llci iijSU- 
 
 tude ill piiin, Imr rtxiifiintion to the will of (i«>d, 
 , It'tt an ii 
 in her ou 
 
 \. 
 
 aljoi. 
 
 I camo h' 
 
 -..■ Iifl. r i, : 
 
 uinpr. 
 over 
 
 Iho curpKu ul liiu un 
 At about ten o'cK 
 at lir. Sininies, to pii 
 sptrt to tUo rciMHius ■ 
 
 
 h]^>\ 
 
 loved, wh 
 
 
 
 .strvire : 
 
 
 
 i.se nnd our iiic 
 i>I our haviii;,' a i 
 loi' a yuur or two, and I can not (^i.d n.y cuiitl 
 from home wIutq she n)i?ht hu <mhii-ot< d In nil 
 kind-. 
 eon. 
 tiiai 
 yon; 
 and ■ 
 yoti. Vuurhiuuii, LAtitA K. itvaaUiJi. 
 
 Gbbex 
 My l> 
 
 :.2. 
 
 ■ need 
 
 . ■■. C. LoLiins, C ii. tuiiet', br. 
 
 • .. Mi Icr, pall-bcarcrs. followed by 
 
 WLL'i'i::^' li.i.iiu^ and many hc-uvy hcartJi. Attbo 
 
 pravt) a solemn prayer was ofTrred to Almigrbtr 
 
 tii^ lur lliv CUI'pau ll Cv'ilUiilicU 
 
 God's blejwin^' ho witlt ir'>o'i Mi.*f» F^oys forever 
 and ever. 
 
 out . (.• Tvuii 11 again 
 
 and virT,r oxp'^-inri 
 
 lo t 
 
 tWi 
 
 thir 
 
 mi;... .. 
 
 cause ol (iod '- 
 
 tudcs of lift*. 
 
 thiniis nnd lovud^.-ur U 
 
 bc'CUU-o hfr (^lui^lian inlln 
 
 injj llic .-< ! 
 
 vad.-d. \ 
 
 was .siiat. V 
 
 vct>, fro II her i-nihr 
 
 doa' ii>.id till, if I I ]. 
 
 lia.S c>'a.<''d to hieod, hut Mnaii uiwuyn Uiii.tl |>;itii 
 
 you, by transcribiug trom luy diiirjr the parlicu- 
 
 the Hpiril-iund. All' 
 thnn tivi> riortli«. w. 
 
 ilS . (iiouj^lt lilV ^ra^U lulii U ruiLlilil 
 
 Uie buojaocy of youth, the vigor of 
 
 ontb 
 
 l.i-alth, llie 
 
94 
 
 A mother's peack offering. 
 
 prospect of a useful life, bade us hope. But God 
 has willed, and the two angel spirits are united 
 in heaven. Peace be with thorn ! 
 Very respectfully, yours in atHiction, 
 
 Charles R. Tessier. 
 
 White Hall, January 23d, 1852. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Little: I have been wishing to 
 write you for some time. Mother proposed my 
 doing so. I think I can take the privilege of writ- 
 ing to you, as I knew dear Miss Elizabeth. We all 
 loved her very much, she was so amiable. Her 
 grave is surrounded by a little fence, and is 
 covered with violets in t^ummer. 
 
 I thank you, Mrs. Little, for the papers you 
 were so kind to send us. 
 
 Your little friend, Madeline Simmfs. 
 
 White Hall, January 23d, 1852. 
 
 My Dear Mrs. Little : I thank you very 
 much for your kindness in sending me the Well- 
 Spring. I take great delight in reading it. I 
 loved your sister very much, and mother planted 
 some flowers on lier grave last, summer. There 
 is a large cedar at the head, and another at the 
 foot. A little picket-fence surrounds it, with a 
 gate. I have been there many times. 
 
 Please write to me. 
 
 Your affectionate Nina Simmes. 
 
 Sheffield, 1850. 
 
 .... Allow me to say to you, that my chief 
 object in writing you now is to elicit a reply. 1 
 think I have at other times addressed you fcom 
 motives less selfish. You are of the number who 
 mourn for P^lizabeth. You are aware that I am 
 called to mingle sympathies with those who have 
 n.)t so much of that faith which is the evidence 
 of thiugs not seen, as we desire and pray they 
 may yet attain, and my heart has sometimes 
 sighed for some of the pious emotions of your 
 own breast. I congratulate you in being permit- 
 ted to be the honored instrument of the conver- 
 sion of a soul. How do Christians live below 
 their privilege who are not seeking to lead sin- 
 ners to the Lamb of God! 
 
 Unworthy though I am, I feel assured that I 
 have a treasure in heaven, through God's blessing 
 upon my humble efforts to lead others to Christ 
 Methinks Elizabeth appears there as tlie first- 
 fruits of my laboring to feed the lambs of Jesus, 
 and Mary as the crowning sheaf I 'I would not 
 live alway." I would not have my rest on earth. 
 No, let me stay till my work is done — till it is 
 well done. Then may I participate in the rest 
 that rem lins for the people of God. Helen, you 
 do and you will pray for Elizabeth's kindred, 
 that her death m^y be blessed to them, so that 
 they may have it to say : '• It is good that we have 
 been afflicted." 
 
 Father says: "Mysterious is the providence 
 which has taken Elizabeth and spared me." 
 Perhaps ho will see in the light of eieruity that 
 her death was the appointed medus of fitting him 
 to enter the "dark valley" undismayed. Little 
 Charlie inquires whom I am writing to. I read 
 my letter to hin], and he told me that Mrs. Bent- 
 ley did not die in August. I then recollected 
 that she died the first week in September. He 
 requested me to correct the error. 
 
 Let us meet before the '■ mercy-seat" while yet 
 vre may. L. J. LrxTLE. 
 
 Detroit, March Tth, ISST. 
 
 Dear Sister: Your letter, bringing intelli- 
 gence of our father's death, came to us on Thurs- 
 day morning. When I saw him last, I did not 
 think he could endure again the most trying sea- 
 sou of the year, which is the breaking up of win- 
 ter. The old homestead will seem less like home 
 now that he has gone; though so many years of 
 his life have been clouded to such a degree that 
 we can never know bow much we should have 
 enjoyed his society if his health had i:ot been 
 broken by accidental injuries. His life had been 
 one well calculated to secure a cheerful and happy 
 old age, and with his misfortune, (which must 
 have been hard for him to bear,) we have reason 
 to be thankful that his good example and coun- 
 sels, have been continued to us so long. 
 
 L. J. L. James A. Rots. 
 
 Laphamville, Mich., Marcli 23, 1857. 
 
 Dear Sister: Eliza and I were on our way 
 home from a visit to Elias Jewell's, when we met 
 Reuben Jewell, on his return from the post office, 
 who gave me your letter containing the sad in- 
 telHgenc-3 of the death of our behaved father. 
 News from the East had fir a long time told me 
 that he grew more and more feeble; but alas! 
 how sudden the sad truth that he is no more ! 
 He spent a long and honorable life, and we can 
 have notliing of shame mingled with our sorrow 
 at the loss of so near and dear a relative. 
 
 L. J. L. John E. Roys. 
 
 I will here state that Elizabeth's brother Levi, 
 who had enjoyed her companionshii) more than 
 either of the others, because of a ready ear in 
 music, and because his age and exemption from 
 the cares of a family bad given him greater op- 
 portunity to act as her natural protector, wrote 
 Col. Simmes to as'-ertam the probable expense of 
 removing her remains to the place of her nativity. 
 As he had undertaken to possess the H'gby farm 
 (once wrested from the Roys' possessions under 
 cover of law) by a thrift at the plow, in Dr. 
 Franklin's old-lti^hioned way, he must as a wise 
 man, count the cost before proceeding to obey 
 the impulses of his heart, under a sudden and 
 afflicting stroke. 
 
 Col. Simmes, in his reply, said : " Your sister 
 died, sincerely mourned, and we shall never for- 
 get her. She sleeps in my family burying-fj round. 
 Her grave is beautifully ornamented with flowers 
 and evergreens, and Mrs. Simmes and our daugh- 
 ters often resort thither." He said nothing re- 
 specting the removal of her remains ; but by say- 
 ing, " Her salary did not pay her doctor's bill, but 
 I paid it with pleasure," politely intimated tliat 
 it was his privilege to retain in their new sepul- 
 cher those fruits, to his liouse, of the reaper 
 Death. And I rejoice to day that Elizabeth's 
 tomb is in Louisiana. I regard it as a bond be- 
 tween the North, where the pious little girl died 
 of grief for the oppression arising from the sys- 
 tem or idea of no servants, tofthe South, where 
 the pious little girl is represented to have died of 
 grief through beholding the oppression arising 
 from the system of bond servants. When I t®ld 
 my Southern friends that it was my privilege to 
 liave four brothers in Sheffield, who do not, and 
 also to have had a pastor who did not, sympathize 
 with Northern abolitionists, I felt that I was sus- 
 pected of insincerity — a feeling with me whicli 
 
A MOTH Ell's PEACK OPFKRIXO. Po 
 
 has b.-.-.TTin T!1cr n wnnrfl t' it fTirfrV'? f'r.Ti t!i<-- [ fnlth, in?ri-tr-.l t.. !,Irn tn ni'itnT*- Torli-r. TTi.-.tii-h 
 
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 wi'"- '• - 
 
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 Uvi hLaika II. J.iUli-. u. his iiiilicr. 
 
 to ' - fViiifh bn« flpp<1 t»io fir«t irm!! I- • 
 
 ti)i' ■ 
 
 " Wouiiui'a Kinlii" til ojippiir in a prcraii^cnoim 1: 
 
 TO' 
 
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 fur 
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 p.,i 
 
 Ci: 
 
 W'. ■■ 
 
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 Borvan»« fn I 
 
 wV 
 
 hv 
 
 fn- 
 
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 l"i •< and tlaugiitors oma- 
 
 m •> rif "cTt-tt prif^'" -11 
 
 Oti 
 
 fffv i I II- « lit >s .II'' 1(11 i'::ii;s Hil 111 lilln-ill ■ 
 
 waitired." 
 
 1- '■ > I ill'ili w 
 
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 oil 
 
 d. 
 
 (or 
 
 poor Widow, u. liivi-rt ii 
 
 her claim for tbo value v\ 
 
96 
 
 A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 remote from a church, I should have hoped he 
 might become a preacher of righteousness to ihe 
 labortr^ upon the plantation. I was gratified, 
 when lu Florida, to learn that the unlettered hv 
 borers of a ftmily wliere I received hospitality, 
 obeyed the apostolic iujuuctiou, not to forsake as- 
 sembling theniselves, to adaionish, in psalms and 
 hymns and spiritual songs, etc., in meetings, which 
 they termed •' preaching." Sister Elizabeth, iu 
 one of her letters, intimated that a church for the 
 common people was had upon the plautation of 
 Col. Simrocs. You say to me, when looking at the 
 world: " I owalways see the gold in all its bright- 
 ness and the spots become small," etc. You 
 will here allow me to explain. Scripture says : 
 "They that wait upon the Lord shall mount up 
 on wiugs, as eagles." I think I may have con- 
 vinced you that I had in my hereditary nature a 
 blending of haste of spirit with a tendency to be 
 " swift to hear, slow to .«peak, and slow to wrath," 
 the latter predomiuatiug. That through having 
 these gifts sanctified by the word of God and 
 prayer, I have been enabled to go through a se- 
 vere school of vsaiiing, for conscience' sake, to- 
 ward God, when my own will would have bidden 
 me wo/7,-, speak, know. As to the eye of nature, 
 so to the eye of faith, dark spots lessen as their 
 distance increases. Therefore, notwithstanding 
 the darkness which rests upon the minds of those 
 who are to-day oppressed wiih the weight of re- 
 sponsibilities bearing upon them as executors of 
 public justice, I look serenely down from the 
 mount of holy communion, and see, in the systetu 
 of African bond-service in America, a missionary 
 entei-prise so exactly adapted to the condition of 
 the servants and the served, that I praise t5od 
 for his goodness iu this benevolent insttutiou, 
 and pray him to hasten the day when every good 
 gift enjoyed within its bounds may be sanctiUed 
 by his word and prayer. 
 
 The. Word sailh, ''If Ih^ii shalt confess with 
 thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and sljalc believe iu 
 thy heart ihat God halh rai;-ed him froai the 
 de&d, thru shalt be saved. For whosoever shall 
 call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved. 
 How ihen shall they call (.n him in whom ihey 
 have not believed ? and hov/ shall thoy believe 
 in him of whom they have ir.t heard? and how 
 shall they hear without a preacher ? and how 
 shall they preach except they be sent?" We 
 here see that Scripture utters the same trullr that 
 Harman'-s Cooley's life and death proclaimed. 
 Hearinij of Jef<2(s and calling upon his name, se- 
 cures to the believer the " pearl of great price." 
 When I look hem my mount of vision over 
 Afric's sable sons in thtir tative land, a genera- 
 tion of whom passes away every thirty or forty 
 years, and consider the qutsiious above quoted, 
 I thank God that hs has sent so many of that 
 people of daikened undtrrtandings to t'ds our 
 land, where they may, by thi,ir own labors, earn 
 their living in the world, and pay llie prophets 
 who guide Ihem to the " Better Lane'." I doubt 
 not that when the night of the grave shall have 
 lifted its curtain, and the mountains and plains 
 shall be on lire, many of this class will then ra- 
 il; ct how dillereut our emot'ons liom thos^e 
 whose poisessioLS in lime lav in titles to earth. 
 J doubt not that since John Bn.iwn has ari.-eu to 
 that state where the law of God is not made void 
 through human traditions, he enjoys the same 
 sou:-satisfymg vision as myself. I have been an 
 
 eye-witness to the fact that it is a harder work to 
 convert the man to Chti^t thsn to convert the 
 little child. I believe the same differecce; is to V.e 
 found in the work of converting the uneducated 
 coDscienoe, and the erroneously educated. The 
 Nortii has a woik given to it as much h'irder in 
 thi^ department of labor, as the number and 
 strength of its teachers is greater. How manif<rSt 
 is the wisdom of the great King in Zion ! The 
 Lord reigneih, let the earth rejoic^ -, , Let the 
 North and the South, the East and iftie West, get 
 an understanding each of his home duties, and 
 leave his brother to do the same ; and let them 
 dwell in unity, for protection and defense, for so- 
 cial and commercial correspondence, and then 
 come up to the anniversaries, a baud of brt- thren, 
 the sight of whom is "good and pleasant" to the 
 wise henealli and to the holy above the .skies. 
 
 Though man has sought out many inventions, 
 none but God has sought out an invention by 
 wbich mortal man can be just before his Makei'. 
 And methinks none but God has as ye,t designed 
 the way by which Eihiopia is to be tauglit so to 
 stretch out her hands unto himself, th;i-t her sins 
 shall all be washed away. 
 
 Tbetefcre are some of the Peters, who are as a 
 rock upon which his church is built, liable to say 
 to him, on bis intimating his designs, •"Tliat ha 
 far from thee, Lord,'" because the c.'eauons of 
 their own m'ghty minds are opposed. Methinks 
 that if it were my lot to '■'e head of the female 
 department in a house Ibllowing the old fashion 
 of our father Abraham, I should ssk f t the ad- 
 dition of a blackboard and crayons, and then to 
 be permitted to take all the house-servants who 
 are under ten years old into a room containing 
 these meiderii improvement?, to hold a season of 
 daily divine >vorship, by praying to Clod, singing 
 a devotional stanza, aud handling his word. Me- 
 thinks I would begin by writing in plionetic cha- 
 racters Vipon the blackboard, before the unlettered 
 mindp, ttio shortest verse contained in the Sctip- 
 tures — would pronounce the words, and teach my 
 congregrilion to do \\vi same; then would point 
 out to them by analyzing the articulations, the part 
 each charactt-r performs iu describing tl^e sounds 
 uttered. Then would proceed to give them the 
 idea, and to tell them the iaterest each has in 
 that idea. And to make these things /eZi!, as weil 
 as seen and heard. I would close my eyes and 
 speak to ttie Invisible, whose name is present to 
 the mortal eye, urging our needs ai;d his kind 
 promisep. 
 
 Then repeat something like the following: 
 
 " In the floods of tribulation, 
 When tlie waters o'er roe roll, 
 Jesus gives nie consolation, 
 
 And supports my fainting soul. 
 Bweet iilHiction, sweet affliction, 
 That brings Jesus to my soul ;" 
 
 which I would require all of my cong'ega'don to 
 join m singing, repeating the stanza daily. The 
 phonetic ctjaracters should wait upon I lie board 
 from day to day, till their use (not their names) 
 be fixed upon the memory. Then ;-hould thej- 
 be removed, and anotlier passage of holy writ 
 iusciibfed. Perl)f.ps the first idea iu the first 
 vei.-^eof the filty-hist psalm; then the stciitid, and 
 so on, until the whole of that and the teuth 
 verses inland at ime time before the eye. My 
 next fcffut would be to have thsfe passages 
 copied into the heart by explaining w; o was the 
 
A MOTH Ell's PEACE OFFKRING. 
 
 97 
 
 author of that prayer, and whnl ih* nin whioh I biirhU ahnve or U.« <)<*pU 4 >vn«»th: t^kinfr th»> 
 
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 son of color. 
 
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 my uii.. 
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 ' in that ' 
 
 '5 reads (•.!! 
 uii UL. vuiivd %L>:uti; f. 
 <( |1 irt present lifo (■ . 
 
 1 share) are not wnrt:.y if. i 
 >y that God Lhs roaerved f. 
 
 :.e women of color in 
 
 :..i I'l h-r M) r,ir n^ .- 
 
 part.* in a niei'e of muaic, pve* r; 
 
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 spirit. 1 mIoo 
 
 wounded in ' 
 
 friends. ' 
 
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 froi!. 
 
 becau>e tno c: 
 
 do not come b* 
 
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98 
 
 A MOTHERS Pf:ACE OFFERING. 
 
 baad'a house was ia a country village, and my 
 fither'a in the suburbs of the town, three full 
 miles distant. TDeti, my father was a farmer, and 
 my husband's elder children were those of a 
 merchant. Besides, all , my school and other 
 duties were performed west of the Housatonic 
 river, a stream which, when the icy fetters of 
 the North were broken, swelled itself through it? 
 mountain contributions to a broad expanse, cov- 
 ering fields and highways, and often bearing 
 away the landmark of neighbors and the passport 
 of travelers; but which, when summer's drouth 
 had consumed the food of the cattle pasturirg 
 upon its edge, suflered them to wade safely 
 through to the more inviting fields beyond, (sub- 
 lime emblem of passion's ebb and flow,) until one 
 year after my marriage, when my husband, with- 
 out consulting my "choice of things," (a thing 
 for which I thank God I never leproved him) 
 removed all but the merchant honors of his 
 family "over (or east of) the river." Here I 
 could not, after the fashion of my husbar,d's 
 strong mother, in her log-house in the wilderness, 
 with only one pair of hands at my disposal, do 
 all the honors of washing and ironing, baking 
 and boiling, making and mending, table-serving 
 and chamber- work, teaching and nursing in the 
 house of the elevated New-England man of fami- 
 ly. Had he suflered me to explain mj case, I 
 doubt not I might have convinced him of this, 
 as he was easily persuaded before committal ; 
 but human traditions, opposed to my view of my 
 own case, gained an ascendency in his mind, and 
 when his lace was once set to an idea or a pur- 
 pose, it was as a flint. 
 
 Perhaps you may feel disposed to inquire how 
 I possess any other proof than I have copied into 
 this, that w much tvas said. I will state that 
 there was belonging to the h')use an organ, 
 having as much liberty as our pnblic presses and 
 reporti-rs, which was to me, in my round of du- 
 ties, like a strong norih wind in March, such as 
 I sometimes have occasion to face in going 
 abroad for health, pleasure, or business. I hire 
 the former with something of the same .spirit 
 I ever bear the latter, not doubting that summer 
 breezes would succee'l. And although while I 
 waited the union went out from me, I have the 
 peace of conscience which arises from the fact 
 that I never went out from any union to which 
 God joined mo, or to which, under Gcd, I joined 
 myself, and that the uaiou which went out from 
 me has not deigned to show cause why it be- 
 came a covenant-breaker. 
 
 True, I have felt an oppression which has 
 made the language of my heart like that of Job : 
 "Oh! that mine adversary had written a book!" 
 Oh 1 that the specific charges against me were 
 written out, that I might place my finger upon 
 each separate charge, and plead " guilty" or " not 
 guilty," as truth should dictate. I am now doing, 
 through an unlooked-for call in providence, as I 
 loo^dd that my accusers should have done by me. 
 There was au implied charge in the fact that my 
 hu-iband placed a notice in the merchants' stores 
 in SheflSeld. cautioning the public not to trust 
 any one to his account. To meet this I will 
 state, that I was never off my watch to discover 
 whether I gave occasion to those without to say 
 any evil thing of me, and finding, early iti my 
 married life, tha^; what I expended to dress 
 myself was looked at through a magnifying lens, 
 
 I desired my husband to name a sum which he 
 would be willing 1 should expend annually for 
 dress. He named twenty-four dollars, and I 
 kept a book so as not to go beyond the limits ; 
 and notwithstanding I kept within the prescribed 
 bounds, I was obliged to hear of the censures 
 abroad for my sins of dress. '" Some body" knew 
 of a clergyman's wife who said she did not wish 
 for aught better than a calico dress. But as I 
 knew of no law binding me to copy one clergy- 
 man's wifa any more than another, and as I did 
 not feel in danger of breaking over tlie Scripture 
 rule concerning the wearing of " gold or pearls 
 or costly array," I ventured to take the liberty 
 of doing as I pleased with that which was so 1 
 
 exclusively my own. Thirty dollars at farthest, 
 and perhaps twenty-five, would cover all that 
 my husband paid for me and my children to 
 go abroad. One shilling is all that I can recol- 
 lect his paying as my admittance-fee to au enter- 
 tainment, and that was to a ladies' festival in 
 Great Barriijgton. 
 
 Letters were not prepaid in those days, and . , 
 
 when my husband asked me if I knew how much ij 
 my postage bill was, 1 was obliged in truth to "| 
 say: "No." But of one ihing I was confident: 
 mortsl life demanded intercourse with mortal 
 friends, and in ray intercoui-se with mine they 
 had the fortune of paying for more letters, and 
 receiving mo-e visits than they returned. If the 
 " Some t;ody" who considered the calico dress the 
 right mooel for me, was the instigator of striking 
 down my allowance to twenty doliars per annum, 
 to include ail expenses for dres-', travel, reading, 
 and writing, as well as counsel in medicine, law, 
 and theology, contributions and admittance-fees 
 to entertainments, the satisfaction must remain 
 but partial under the new order; for my streugth 
 has not enabled me to sew calico since Mar^^'s 
 death, or, by washing and ironing, to keep such 
 a dress in constant readiness for appearing in a 
 public eongregation. Therefore the fabric which 
 tias a union of cotton and wool, cotton and silk, 
 wool and silk, cotton wool and silk, or either 
 exclusive wool or silk, is better adapted to my 
 reduced resources than is a strong garment made 
 from cotton alone. So, living under the Consti- 
 tution of the United State.3 of America, I con- 
 tinue to do as I judge best with what is exclu- 
 sively my own. A privilege, I rejoice to say, 
 enjo}^ d by every bond-servant in America. Yes, 
 if be has nothing else, he has a conscience that is 
 not under bonds: and no man can compel him, 
 voluntarily, to set his name to any deed which 
 his conscience tells him is wrong. Deeds written 
 through his band being held in his master's, will 
 not be set to his account by the Judge who does 
 right. The promise that God will withhold no 
 good thing from them that walk uprightly, stands 
 as sure to the slave as to the ma^ter. 
 
 Each class among the sons of Adam, and every 
 individual of each class, has legitimately its pecu- 
 liar " easily besetting sin ;" and it is true that 
 God has a fixed law of assimilation between in- 
 dividuals or classes sympathizing with each, 
 other. There are but two ways in which I cau 
 avoid contamination from proximity to a bias I 
 do not inherit. One is, non-intercourse, or close 
 communion ; the other, sympathizing with the 
 sinner till I come under the power of his tempta- 
 tion, and then taking the way of escape God has 
 provided, by coming continually unto the blood 
 
d.i 
 
 fir 
 
 foil 
 
 •i", twvini.' : ■ 1 fi' "■• I- My 
 
 alL 1 
 
 lii 
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 book of Ot)d with tht 
 
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 ' > givu inc. 
 
 T had pro- 
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 03 1 was noi ilion con- 
 
 irrf'Tit. T J;nd !;nd ri 
 
 ttud llieir pr»j>«:r 
 
 tore; that 1 nin ppiritun. 
 ihat I have been n «": 
 wbich I can pcrs' 
 humbled mvaeh' to • 
 
 liiiiii uiy juvi-tiilo 
 no one, perhaps, 
 1 ibor and to pray 
 1 their oten homes, 
 
 MP. only reflects 
 
 i'ii of my ancos- 
 
 onlv implies 
 
 -r\r." .1" of 
 
 that i ha\ j 
 
 :i to me th.i! 
 bvfi iio Uttiiu io*u*»j/, I think within ii._\ .-.»..;. tUo 
 tinift will rrtirt^ wh««n mnr own sins will trouble 
 
 . iUuii a tiiiu)f. 1 utii iiui iT'iisciuiH 
 I a tliintr in th?" letter T on,H> t^ld 
 r, when I wa-i ^- 
 
 refcrred to in ■ 
 
 CO: 
 
 *" li 
 
 as much ii5 pvii^Sible. Tliat 1 
 
 almoflt la (>xr^9n U tmn, nnd It 
 
 till- •■ 
 
 I, 
 
 a to u liuly uH'kv. iiui 1 pri-Vr plain - 
 ■» the lino of n Nfose'. or the rroph*>t li- 
 iini to I " iiu an .\aroD wi 
 
 with lii~ in, around an ; 
 
100 
 
 A MOTHER'S PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 ment iu his house as a visitor. But I am Ciod- 
 like enough to love a " cheerful giver," and am 
 happy to have a list of such in mj' bock of re- 
 membrance. May what they have sown into my 
 hands and my heart be returned a hundredfold 
 into their own houses. And may such joys as I 
 have tasted, through the ministrations of the 
 apostolic spirit, descend upon every desolate 
 home of the '' widow and the fatherless." I 
 would that my "Abolitionist" brethren and sis- 
 ters search the Scriptures with especial reference 
 to ascertaining whether Clod places the greater 
 emphasis upon the afflictive condition of the 
 motherless and the hond-servant, or that of the 
 " widow and fatherless." 
 
 I here state my own opinion, that in our own 
 land, the woman the minor child, or the African, 
 who can not say of a house which has a paliilcal 
 father, brother, hu&band or son at its head as 
 master, "it is ours," is properly the subject of 
 philanthropic consideration. 
 
 I next ask of my Sbeffield judgres to divine, if 
 they can, why, when the six motherless children 
 in my own home had possessed a father's house, 
 in which they had every indulgence that a fond 
 and powerful fiither could give, till they had 
 passed their minority — why a tender and belov- 
 ed son of six years should be turned out of this 
 father's house with an allowance of six dollars 
 a month to meet his aggravated orphan necessi- 
 ties, (with an intimation indeed that h'S increas- 
 ing years should have increasing supplies;) and 
 why, when this father deceased live years later, 
 these supplies, not having been increased, should 
 be cut off, notwithstanding, as I have been directly 
 informed, one of the motherless daughters gave 
 her husband eight hundred dollars of her own mo- 
 ney to assist him to go into mercantile business 
 after the decease of her father ? "Was it because 
 I did not, through fear of consequences, write 
 my name to a deed bearing false witness against 
 myself, thereby making void a law of my native 
 State ? If so, I rejoice to-day that I have, after 
 the example of my Saviour, magnified the law 
 and made it honorable. My own opinion is that 
 the head of my house, vexed himself, under the 
 erroneous idea that woman is less worthy than 
 man in proportion as she is less powerful, till he 
 laboreil under a clu'onic madness. That when 
 I married him he was couvalescant ; but that 
 the reproach cast upon me by "some body," ex- 
 cited a relapse, under the addiional ills of a se- 
 cond marriage, which proved fatal. I shall not 
 take my own case to court, for the best of rea- 
 sons ; but I stand ready to meet my accuser 
 face to face, where the order of an open court is 
 observed. My Master instructs mo to take no 
 thought beforehand, if brouglit before magis- 
 trates ; for it shall be given me in the same hour 
 what I ought to speak. If ever I am called to 
 testify upon oath, I choose to have no secret 
 consultations with mortals, which shall 
 
 " Lead to bewilder or dazzle to blind," 
 
 and thereby write my name upon the list of 
 " false swearers," to be revealed on the execu- 
 tion of a Testament I hold in my hands as my 
 own. In that Testament a mighty One declares: 
 "I will come near to you in judgment; and 
 I will be a swift witness against the sorcerers, 
 and against the adidterers, and against false 
 swearers, and agai: st those that oppress the I 
 
 hireling in his wages, the widow and the father- 
 less, and that turn aside the stranger from bis 
 right, and fear not me, saith the Lord of hosts." 
 
 I farther say to my Sheffield judges, that lest 
 a relapse succeed the palsy of which I am now 
 convalescent, I shall seek a home in a house 
 ordered by a Master, paying such price as is 
 demanded for others of my class, hoping there'oy 
 to live to compare opinions with all of my 
 mother's sons, and my own, ten years hence. 
 Long may the " Elm Tree" of Slieffield wave its 
 branches over a yearly gathering of its natives 
 with their associates ; and long may the elm 
 tree of the Roys^ Homestead wave its branches 
 over a tenth-year gathering of its natives with 
 their associates ; and may that tree whose leaves 
 are for the healing of the nations, be seen in the 
 day of account, to have received a due share of 
 its nourishment from Sheffield soil. God save 
 our houses and our towns, and through them 
 our States and our nation ! 
 
 I now proceed to look after some of the causes 
 for the peculiarities of my physical self. My 
 mother, from her heritage and discipline in a 
 mechanic farmer's house, had obtained great 
 skill in housekeeping duties in an age when 
 homespun clothed New-England's sons and 
 daughter?. In her selection, she was content 
 to take as her own a man who could appreciate 
 her endowments, natural and acquired, although 
 he had less power of speech and of music, and 
 a skin less delicate than her own. A member 
 of her father's house has said to me, " Your mo- 
 ther was the best child my fiither had," which 
 implies that she was naturally religious, and 
 possessed a constitution' that enabled her to 
 stand at her post under a strict discipline. She 
 did not so seek the " good part which can not 
 be taken away,'' as to obtain, till I was eleven 
 years of age. As a child in her father's house, 
 and as a wife and mother in her own, the Scrip- 
 ture may doubtless apply to her: "Many daugh- 
 ters have done virtuously, but thou excellest 
 them all." But she lived in an age when physi- 
 ological law was not as universally revealed as 
 now. Therefore when the gods had given her 
 a daughter, who was otxtwardly more a copy of 
 her married than single self, she suffered the 
 humiliation of not iindiug the plea^-iug image iu 
 her daughter which her mirror had been wont 
 to reflect. And though the kindest of women, 
 she had never known the pain to a sensitive 
 child of hearing its lack of comeliness often 
 commented upon. Neither had she yet learned 
 that painful emotions may be deep and silent in 
 the child. Therefore did she, though uncon- 
 sciously, early help me to the blessing of poverty 
 of spirit ; and give me to feel that I must be 
 content to be a very unlovely being, except as 
 I could command love by rendering acceptable 
 service ; and thus indirectly educate me to act 
 toward those who should come in early years 
 ULder my tutorage, as a wise reprover, by wait- 
 ing for evidence of willful shortcomiigs, before 
 complaints were given or encouraged by me. 
 With my outward uuloveliness, I had an inward 
 love of the power to please possessed by my 
 mother, and fully indorsed the expression of 
 Parson Judson, that she was " One of the sweet 
 singers of Israel." Her voice in song is the 
 bright spot in my sky that stands first to memo- 
 ry's eye. This dawning of heaven in my hum- 
 
A MOTUEU d PEAOB OFFKRISG. 
 
 101 
 
 bio liTrt wnn m'^^M'A >>j n A'^^rtr^rr *.hnt th* • «>??•*: nnA Ih^T'pi^T ^"^ ♦"f^'lf h»r ltri«h«n»l. und 
 
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 in 
 
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 that dty, v 
 inflrniitir". ' 
 flax, ail > 
 the CUV 
 
 m 
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 t ) nao is the waj to he healiliy and 
 
 to the candid that I 
 
 r< Inx in mr nature, 
 
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 liw, I 
 
 resuKtnl uu hpii nuij;, 
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 til- - 
 
 Bi> 
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 pie au(i ' 
 hers to 
 or 
 
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 A 
 
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 aud Mi a tUsHui; Lor 
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 t/'o thnt Trhrn mr ht^thcr. 
 
 T 
 
 •-d in H 
 
 to ihiU 
 
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 tald. Her n< r 
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 wh - ' 
 
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 bore ilr 
 
 this, by iiurncir, 
 
 were restored, she 
 
 wetk'. 
 
102 
 
 A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 to myself every word accurately from beginniug 
 to end of grammar, seeing mentally each sen- 
 tence upon the right or left page, in the upper, 
 middle, or lower portion, as the tiulh might be. 
 "When thirteen years of age, my teacher said he 
 had once parsed a little, and would gladly assist 
 me to parse, but thought it better to he not taught 
 than taught wrovg. He looked at the story of 
 '•The boy steahig apples," in Webster's old 
 fepelling-book ; said he thought he could parse 
 that accurately, till he came to the word hoy. 
 He was not quite sure what governed hoy. My 
 urchin brother of four years went fiona school to 
 his parents, saying, "The schoolmaster don'c 
 know what governs hoy. /could have told Lim 
 that 7nan governs boy." He may by this time 
 be persuaded that it is a truth roore easily dis- 
 cov^ered than managed. A year or two later, 
 another teacher said be had not studied English 
 grammar, but had studied Latin some He suf- 
 lered me to construe simple seuteijces according 
 to my own ideas, except that he once said : " I 
 perceive that you sometimes commit slight in- 
 accuracies. For instance, you pronounce he to 
 be in the third person." I turned to the declioa- 
 tion of pronouns, and showed him the list, which, 
 Eccordiog to my construction, placed lie in the 
 third person. But my teacher met mt with the 
 inquiry: "If he is third person, what person is 
 himf As I did not then understand why yi/'ii, 
 second, or third was applied to the pro-names of 
 the invisible, I did not debate farther; yet be- 
 lieved in my own mind that I was right in my 
 interpretation of my author's words; an obstinacy 
 which still clings to me in the presence of mortal 
 teachers who have studied many books which I 
 have not. 
 
 It was not till the winter before I commenced 
 to teach a public school, tliat I enjoyed the ad- 
 vantages of a teacher, well qualified to instruct in 
 English giammar. All my school attainments in 
 geography were under a master who had never 
 learned to read a map; and the severest mental 
 labor of my school-life consisted in comprehend- 
 ing without aid the idea of the solar system, given 
 in the introductory lessons of my geography. I 
 learned my arithmetic from DaboU's Schoolmas- 
 ter's Assistant, where blackboards were unknown. 
 I can not distinctly recollect askicg my teacher 
 to assist me in but one example. He took my 
 slate, and silently performed till he compared 
 his result with the answer in the book, found it 
 was wrong, and said he had not time to go over 
 the work then. I returned to my seat, and have 
 no recollection of repeating the oCense. 
 
 But I er joyed the advaijtage of having school- 
 mates of the stronger sex, to whom I applied for 
 gratuitous aid in mathematics, not in vam. Dur- 
 mg the fiist years of my school-life, a weekly 
 exercise consisted of reading or reciting "The 
 Assembly's Catechism," and in this, as in gram- 
 mar, the piinted pa^e in vaj hand was as a light 
 shining in darkness, and the darkness compre- 
 hending it not. When I was ten years of age, 
 the first Sabbath-school was organized in Shef- 
 field, and my name placed upon its list on the 
 day of its first organization. I was instructed to 
 begin with the Sermon on the Mount, and com- 
 mit to memory as many verses as I could during 
 the week. On the next Sabbath I recited to my 
 teacher (a stranger to me) the fifth chapter of 
 ilailhew ; was told that I had learned my les- 
 
 son well ; and the number of veises was written 
 against my name tj be reported at the cloae of 
 the season. 
 
 This course was pursued year after year, and 
 I thereby gained a wisdom, aptly compared to that 
 gained by the child while learning the names of 
 the characteis by which he is in after stages to 
 spell out the truths his heart then yearns to 
 know. I do not speak of these things to com- 
 plain that tbey were wrong at that time and 
 place; but to show how knowledge increases 
 when many run to and fro, accoiding to the 
 prophet's words ; als'i to show that there ere 
 two ways of raising up teachers — one by edu- 
 cating them (Zirectly, the other iwdireclly. The 
 latter class havicg ttie higher appreciation of a 
 blessing, the privation of which they have sorely 
 felt, become the more zealous (if nature and 
 grdce combine to make them benevolent) in de- 
 vising means to meet the necessities of those 
 committed to their care. I wish also to point 
 out the blessing to myself of being not rich. With 
 the physiological knowledge then possessed by 
 the common people, nothing but a lack of means 
 prevented my being placed at schools where I 
 should doubtless have become an early victim of 
 intemperance, through attempting to slake my 
 thirst for knowledge. It was better that a'ter 
 learniig to read I should be the protector of my 
 brothel s and sisters younger than myself, while 
 they were out of their mother's sight during the 
 early years of their school-education, and make 
 the gradual advances my powers ard opportuni- 
 ties enabled n.e to do. And doubtless it was 
 better for ihem then to be under the care of a 
 sister naturally sympathetic and tender-hearted. 
 
 I come next to speak of the life in me, arising 
 from the new birth ; for if any man b& in Christ 
 he is a new creature. Owing to my disposition 
 to think intensely and silently, and to my feebler 
 hold en life than stronger couslitutioas may com- 
 mand, I was eaily and strongly impressed with 
 the inquiry: "What shall I do to be saved?' 
 But I lived in an age when the faith of many 
 believers left little children out of the room where 
 they met so honorable a guest as the miebty One 
 who had power to call the dead to life; and 
 taught them the use and power cf prayer in the 
 same manner as 1 was for many years taught the 
 use and power of grammar. My mother sought 
 and found the "one thing needful," to the joy of 
 her own heart, w hen my sister Elizabeth was an 
 infant, and mjself eleven years of age. She 
 united with the church in the summer of 1821, 
 and gave her children to God in baptism. The 
 following winter more than a hundred persons in 
 Sheffield rejoiced in hope of glory, through Christ 
 becoming precious, as he is unto them that so 
 believe as to be willing to part with all, at his 
 bidding, f<jr him. My father was among the 
 number. As I silently listened to the accounts 
 of conversions, I greatly desired to come unto the 
 gospel feast; and timidiy asked my mother to let 
 me go with my tklher and the hired girl, to the 
 incpjiry meeting. Mother told me the meetings 
 were not for children ; so having been tau>iiit to 
 think she knew be-t, I said no more about ir. I 
 lived to the gge of twenty -one vvithout hope in 
 Christ, but not witliout hope out of Chiial that I 
 should be brought to timely repentance; yet 
 subject to the bondage cf fearing lest death should 
 
A motheh'.s peace okferinq. 
 
 108 
 
 comf ftt nn )-fnr w)i»n T t'loiv/bt rot, Bnd fluM m« I O Lord) oDable ine to iiurrendor mvmirmul •nd 
 uri' • . tboe, to do with tuo ; i'»' 
 
 lUt ilj« Luld JcnU« WWt lu \H*jCvm )l 
 
 
 to itr«0«ul u> uturtel giiitlta tiiti laquiry ul h j«;iur in vvi..ctt u.ii 
 
 of ..Id 
 
 b<<ojine new. 
 
 ttUti cany lUK o'H l»f tuMiivv, liial i Wuuid uiiae 1:1' wliicu vit- 
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 Avr reaurt tor mtrtai litV, lu i ootne nl nn > 
 
 rr. ' point tto m^ 
 
 ' frum the entliesl dai< 
 
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 "d. When I ■■! 1 1 [!..• 11 -! I.-.- I 
 ■V. Mr. u.. 
 liord. o ~ 
 
 tUO lv> I'i..-H>ik0 It] ' 
 
 L.rd, ihct I shall 
 
 >. > thou. That 
 
 lo delivor u^ fron tha ovil of 
 
 •1 mc lu 
 
104 
 
 A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 
 
 gnide-book for the canse, and instead of i5iidirig- 
 such necessity, I found encouragement to expect 
 the same enjoyment so lono; as I should keep the 
 saoQe place before my Redeemer. And that, re- 
 vered deacon has passed triumphantly into a 
 ftite where he doubiless hett'^r luiders-tands that 
 social joys are so compounded in tlie Christian's 
 heart, as to make it difficult to analyze, and de- 
 termine its proportionate amount of jeligious or 
 Christian joy. 
 
 I wish here to record the fact, tliat when my 
 sisier Elizabeth had attained the age at whicli I 
 was kept Irom inquiry-meetiofr, because my 
 Christian mother thought me too young to come 
 to Christ, 1 was led to see it a duty and a privi- 
 lege to lake her, with her own consent, to ac 
 compiny me at times when I went with ray 
 verbal requests to the Lord of lords, before the 
 mercy-seat; also that my daughter Mary, who 
 had never been exhorted to repent, that she 
 might get ready to die, but rather lo get ready 
 t J live, c mie to me with tears in her ejes, while 
 I was making ready to go out to church on the 
 morning of the lir^t Sabbath in the year 1847, 
 and said : " Mother, I want you to go aside and 
 pray with me. I have been trying to say my 
 prayers, and I never had such feelings before ; it 
 seemed as if I was sinking." I went with her 
 to our closet, and asked Jesag to bless her, and 
 al.so iastructed her to go to him at all times 
 v/hen she should feel her need, not doubting his 
 power and willingness to bless according to bis 
 own promise. She was then younger, by three 
 years, than myselfj when I asked my believiuii 
 mother to let me go to iaquiry-meeling. But 
 my mother offered believing prayer f)r the salva- 
 tion of her children through many yeaTs, and her 
 prayers, though not recorded upou mortal ear or 
 the lettered page, are none of them losi; t-> the 
 eye of the Eternal, and none of us can tell how, 
 olten his angels have been charged to bold up 
 the subjects of her prayer.s, le.~t iliey fall is.to 
 fatal accident before her prevaihug prayers iu 
 their behalf shall have been answered. 
 
 Mary's father testified of her: "I do not think 
 she could have been induced to do any thing siie 
 thought to be wrong." I will speak of a few 
 things, showing her power to discriminate be- 
 tween right and wrong. She onco snid to mc : 
 '• Mother, Mary S. told me she would tell me 
 something if I would promise never to tell of it; 
 and I told her I would rather not be told, than 
 make such a promise. Do you think, raotlier, it 
 would be right for me to promise not to tell a 
 thing, when I did not know what it was?" At 
 anotlier time she said: "Mother, when I went 
 lo 'school to Miss Dewey, I thought the girls ia 
 the village had privileges which I do not, and I 
 felt envious toward them. I think it was wrong 
 — I think I shall never fLcl so again." I have 
 before me a piece of glass, in the form of a heart, 
 which she brought to me when six years old, wiih 
 bitter weeping, saying: " .Mother, when we were 
 at Capt. Anderson's, in Connecticut, I asked the 
 little girl, who had this among her playthings, to 
 give it to me. She said no ; but I put it into my 
 pocket and brought it home." These, and similar 
 confessions, were not extorted from Mary by 
 aught save a conscience enlightened by the Word 
 and Spirit of God; and the mother vvhq heard 
 them only laid them up in her own heart. One 
 of my sisters once told of Mary's coming from 
 
 her retirement with a heavenly smile upon her 
 countenance, and saying to her: ''-Aunt, I felt 
 ver}'' cross this morning, but I don't feel so now." 
 These confessions, of that s-pirit now made per- 
 fect, are well adapted to reprove the spirit which 
 was permitted to smite her, who so early con- 
 fessed and forsook her own sins, but who never 
 assumed to exhort her elders to be wise. I re- 
 call that when Mary was about three years of 
 age, she one day left her playthings, and came 
 to me with a thoughtful face, and said : " Motlier. 
 do you love me?" I replied: " Yes." She stood 
 a moment in silent thought, and then said : " But 
 you don't love me when you punish me ?" I 
 explained to her as well I cou'd, that it was my 
 love fur her that led me to punish her, as I only 
 punished her to lead her to be good, and if she 
 was not good, she could not be happv. She left 
 me, and long- after th.e conversation had jjassed 
 from my own mind, she again rose up from her 
 playthings, and stood before me with a counte- 
 nance giowiDg with the delight of one who has 
 solved a difficult problem, and spid with anima- 
 tion : " Mother, now I know liow it is. You love 
 me. when you punish me, but you don't love my 
 naughty actions'' 
 
 Happy for all those who arc puzzled with the 
 dealings of God, in his providence toward them, 
 v/hcu they become enlightened as that little child. 
 Mary early complained of difficulties to her mind, 
 in what she read in the Scriptures, and also said 
 to me : " Mother, v.'hen I pray, I try to think of 
 God, but other thoughts will come into my mind." 
 She was told that this was an infirmity which 
 she must wait upon God to remove. And when, 
 in after years, she, who always offered the first 
 prayer in our daily worship, would ask for the 
 privilege of saying her prayers again, after lis- 
 tening to her mother, and then, in a monotone, 
 low, solemn, ricli, and sweet, would go through 
 her accustomed litany, those were no vain repeti- 
 tions in the ear of the Eternal. 
 
 I was permitted, at the Teachers' Institute, 
 (the model school for Mass.,) held iu Gieat Bar- 
 ringtoii, in 1859, to hear Drs Emerson and Lo- 
 well Mason, of Boston, instruct the teachers of 
 our public schools, to open their daily mornin;^: 
 exercises with services so similar to tliose which 
 had been so abundantly blessed of God, in my 
 own experience, that my full heart said: "Lord, 
 now Jeitest thou thy servant depart in peace, for 
 mine eyes have seen thy salvation." 
 
 I come now to the late.st date of th'S, my first 
 public letter, namely, February 28th, 1861. My 
 earliest manuscript has gone to the printer, and my 
 work of correcting proof-sheets has commenced. 
 The business, in woman's hands, of getting one's 
 own production through the press, when too per- 
 sonal to admit of its being accepted by editor or 
 publisher, t-nd too much a work of justice to ad- 
 mit of its being left upon the table, has been with 
 me, when only in possession of notes not due, like 
 my other attainments in knowledge, an invention 
 to be sought out. A jirocess, which I am happy 
 to say^ gives me to feel wiser than when I com- 
 menced although attended with .some humiliat- 
 ing lessons. I have to ask the kind consideration 
 of all those who, through private correspondence, 
 are, to their own smprise, brouglit otit with their 
 true names before the public eye. My only ex- 
 cuse is, that this thing accords with the genius 
 of American administration of iustice. The sin- 
 
r 
 
 (i 
 
 itt'ii'^i' it t'l'^-r 
 
 A mother'.'* peace OFFKRINO. lOo 
 
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 )!•■! f"V >ir 
 
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 w 
 
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 courup'o h:^ 
 learner's aid 
 nr.- - '•■ ' 
 
 t'. 
 
 moke vi it; 
 for thp WU V 
 
 'be piaotation of at. Isabel, 
 
 : iiiiJ it vviet) l>u>iUi;r, if slic Ui^y . I wvulU u. 
 rial. I thw letter of ; 
 
 me if I claim to know 
 :i bj reading \m phrt 
 
 \ I only claim to know wliat I 
 
 , Il'.t till- 'I-.' Mi> \iU.-' \\\'.\']r- I r V. 
 
 ■ riches may come 
 
 1. - 
 
 tile. v. 
 nplh«>c 
 
 to ■ 
 
 t.. 
 
 
106 
 
 A 5E0II1ERS PEACE OFFERIXG, 
 
 ceived, snd whieli I ;im confident I should not 
 have received but for the disposiiiou that pre- 
 vails to visit the real or reputed sins of classes 
 upon individuals, irrespective of social, civil, or 
 religious justice. 
 
 I take the liberty to say here, that while in 
 Sheffield, last summer, I had the happiness of 
 being introduced to several ladies who have re- 
 cently come as strangers into my native town, 
 in the relation of step-mother I crave for them 
 the courtesy and consideration duo the Christian 
 stranger ; myself being impressed that they are 
 a valuable acquisition to Sheffield, and are suffi- 
 ciently intelligent to judge for themselves when 
 to lie down and when to rise up, wlien to go out 
 and when to come in, when to'p.iy visits and when 
 to receive guests, how to dress, etc. etc. One 
 other item in my phrenological description may 
 be disputed by those who are acquainted with, 
 but do not understand me, namely, the state- 
 ment tliat I am much attached to one place. 
 Nothing is more true ; yet because of the des- 
 perate efforts I have made to go out for life, in 
 obedience to the laws of myjiome constitution — 
 eflbrts wliich may be compared to that of my 
 arising to go into a religious inquirj^-meeting — 
 I have perhaps been thought naturally disposed 
 to go from home. 
 
 I can not Ibrbear, in this place, making men- 
 tion of the event of my father's being gathered 
 to his ancestors ; an event which occurred four 
 years this day. The last two weeks of his Me 
 he had been unable to take his accustomed walks 
 out of doors, leaning upon the arm of his eldest 
 son. I sat by him when the restiveuess of dis- 
 solution was upon his nerves ; and as he ex- 
 claimed, "0 dear!" I said: '-Why do you 
 groan, father? are you very sick?" " No," said 
 he, " but I want to go to sleep. Can I ?" I re- 
 phed: "Yes." lie then said: 
 
 " Now I lay me down to sleep, 
 I pray the Lord my soul to keep."' 
 
 These were his last words. His eldest son then 
 entered the room, wrapped his mantle about him, 
 took him from the bed in his arms, and placed 
 him in the " old arm-chair." His breathing im- 
 mediately indicated sleep ; and soon the breath 
 of life ceased, as quietly as when the infant sinks 
 into a healthy slumber. Since our mother 
 passed away sixteen years previous, he had be- 
 haved himself as a weaned child. The only 
 wish I ever heard of his expressing was, when 
 away from the old homestead, to return and die 
 in the room where our mother died. His eldest 
 son left a more lucrative business, to return with 
 him to the home he desired, where, so far as I 
 know, not a complaint was ever heard from his 
 lips. His son, his daughter-in-law, and his 
 grandchildren wore (to his view) all right, and 
 right at all times. He passed away an old man, 
 and full of days, from the room where his wife, his 
 mother, and his grandmother had triumphantly 
 arisen to meet Jesus. His mother was a member 
 of a Baptist church. He, late in life, often spoke 
 of having felt a desue, in past years, to confess 
 Clirist before men ; but a lack of union or chari- 
 ty among Christian sects was to him a stumbling- 
 block, aud he passed from earth uubaptized, yet 
 a believer. Eight years before his death, he set 
 out to walk a few rods in the public way, on a 
 cloudy evening. It was at an hour when a cau- 
 
 cus was being held in the village ; consequently 
 younger political men were away from their 
 homes. At half-pai-t eight the women at home 
 were startled by the barking of dogs; and on 
 stepping to their doors, where darkness without 
 rendered every object invis'ble, they listened to 
 oaths and curses by some body driving with 
 reckless fury through the darkness. A half-hour 
 later my fixther entered the house of Orrin Cur- 
 tiss, (the home of my mother's early years,) with- 
 out a hat, and with a face bloody and so dis- 
 figured that he could be recognized only by his 
 tall form aud hoary locks. He was overtaken 
 by the fast man at a place whei'o a steep bank 
 was so near the road as to give him but little 
 space clear from the track. The unskillful or 
 careless driver, after discovering that he had 
 made himself liable to open censure, by running 
 against a human being-, instead of waiting for 
 our father to extricate himself, (who, by catch- 
 ing hold of harness, or wagon, or both, contrived 
 to ward off serious accident, till one wheel liad 
 moved over two rods of road without rolling,) 
 put the lash to his horse, and succeeded iu 
 avoiding detection (except by the Eye that seetli 
 in secret) by running over the hoary head which 
 God pronounces '• A crown of glory." The 
 wheels appeared to have passed over or near his 
 ej^es ; ana though not deprived of sight, he was 
 never after able to read a printed language. 
 Though his powers of understanding, or correct- 
 ness of jtidgment, were not apparently impaired, 
 he had great difficulty iu commanding language 
 to express himself, and more particularly in re- 
 calling names. Deprivation of power to read 
 robbed him of an essential solace in his passage 
 to the tomb ; still, his life quietly spake the 
 Scripture : " All the days of my appointed time 
 will I wait, till my change come." 
 
 At the time I publicly professed religion, Mr. 
 Giles Andrews informed me that when he, a few- 
 years previous, was converted to Christ, being 
 til en head of a family, my father, as a Christian 
 nciglibor, advised him to institute family wor- 
 ship — told him he regretted that he did not do 
 it when first he rejoiced in hope. Eut his flmrily 
 was then such that he felt it would be difficult 
 for him to establish a new order. . 
 
 Yet I was impressed, when a child, that my 
 father worsbiped the Gcd of David in spirit and 
 in truth, through the prayers set to the music 
 he learned in singing-schools, where he fitted 
 himself before his marriage to stand in the choir 
 of the congregation. And I now claim that an 
 altar of family worship was in my father's house 
 at the twilight hour, when the devotional psalm or 
 hymn, or the sacred song arose, in solo, by Eliz- 
 abeth ; duet, by Elizabeth and Levi ; or chorus, 
 by the family band. I have no doubt that the 
 seven strong men who were there reared, and 
 who are now rulers over as many households, 
 scattered in the strong States of Massachusetts, 
 New- York, and JMichigan, find that those sea- 
 sons are scenes which do noc lessen in value as 
 their distance increases ; that as memory turns 
 to them her eye, their hearts are tuned to the 
 poet's words: 
 
 " A voice from the spirit-land, 
 A voice from the silent tomb. 
 Speaks with a sweet command : 
 Brother! come home!" 
 
 There was one in that band of bretiiren who 
 
A MOTlIElt'a I'EACK OFFEUING. 
 
 107 
 
 WM n^t Mrdfrft'od, J)ff«ft'!"»«» }!i^ tint'jm difTcivl | fiod, and U>U him how ulflah foo «».' 8oGr»- 
 
 ho 
 to 
 ot! 
 hi. 
 ill 
 
 iroiii Miii'-<;i Ki ijif voii.iiio 
 
 Tm. I'vp lo»rn*<l, 
 ( An>l tiiii.lv. . f iiir MIowK iMrned It too.) 
 Til'.' iheworlil AndI<toh«t«! 
 
 Ai : jr»o II, if 'iwcro Dol now 
 
 n. 
 
 v.iih the understandintc then po«- 
 
 ti. 'ice Uke • truo homo 
 
 i-'i. ' 
 
 1 1 ifl cb&ractcristto of the promwid uniTcrml 
 rol'erred to atMve, uouer d«ie, 
 
 A little more than a week 
 
 powir ; 
 ho did I 
 
 And Uoui>;li(«j I npd jj„ 
 i to the "vision" I j y,,ry. 
 whaso ct:i»riiit.r i>.ni- iiisu mck oiu "country and ' 
 friendf. " 
 
 I ...... .. I r... .il t'.,o» I--,; ■..,,. li, r,v..r ,1. .■•■i>.,i 
 
 n. V 
 
 fa: 
 
 III,' 
 
 til 
 
 ti>i said ; " It id uiue ocluviv. 1 iii> 
 than nine in the eveuiog." In 
 
 publicly a quota- 
 
 iny own c... 
 ticar to be \ 
 
 live a 1 
 iwonty • 
 bap^l^Ul, ainl 
 
 if hui\ hfPTl 
 
 trsde." 
 
 I" 
 
 1 
 
 '..vtroiuii iii.iii liitir error. 
 
 I did not n/'f-ont tl « pr«>T»n*»l nf my ihon 1 
 
 ri 1 
 1- 
 
 r partner in iiio lu 
 
 c» ilnrao V. 
 'I'ps find ' 
 
 brief; to tny 
 ' •••• I 
 
 Willi ;i I' I ill ^ 11. !• ill ii/>iM' I' I' i.'i.ii'.'. 
 
 Irom a letter of hi?, under dat**, 
 
 "July: 
 '• Orari" i« a liUlp, dry jokw. W 
 
 Li/./.ie, ' I'll 
 
 Cii. ' i'.r I.' A 
 
 t. .r turu. 
 
 1,1 ask Ijrjici. 
 
 wliicLi wai rofuried. ' Wi.'i!,' tajs i. 
 
 don't give me soiue, when I di?, I ^ 
 
 uio power 
 
108 
 
 A mother's peace offering. 
 
 utter." His thoughts were then higher than tny 
 thoughts, for he saw that ODly ten years would 
 elapse before a door of utterance would be opea 
 to me through the cloud which sent me out from 
 a v/idowed home in pursuit cf mortal life; an 
 utterance Avhich should give mo to direct the 
 eyes of all acquainted with my strong house and 
 my stronger country to the Scripture : " When a 
 strong niHU armed keepeth his palace, his goods 
 are in peace, but when a stronger than he shad 
 come upon him, and overcome him, he taketh 
 fi'om him all his armor wherein he trusted, and 
 divideth his spoils. . . . Blessed are they that 
 hear the word of God and keep it." 
 
 I am not anxious concerning the result of my 
 labors in this letter. I have done what con- 
 science has dictated, and I cheerfully leave 
 events with my Maker. I am again brought to 
 the most trying season of the year, with a slow 
 and gradual increase of strength during the last 
 twelve month?. I believe that i\xe pursuit of life 
 to body and soul is properly the aim of every 
 child of Adam. Tuat one great obstacle in the 
 pursuit of mortal life lies in the self-denying work 
 of taking only so much of a pleasimt tiling, hon- 
 estly within our power, as is good for us, be it 
 labor or recrea'.ion, earning or spending, feeding 
 the mortal or the immortah I have a high reiis'h 
 f jr social joys, and I believe that I may reasona- 
 bly expect to partake a larger amount on earih 
 if, with my present health, I attempt to give or 
 leeeive one social call in ten days, rather than 
 ten in one day. My sympathetic nature requires 
 that I dwell with a strong, healthy family, in 
 whose domestic concerns I have no interest other 
 than as a stranger. I as:k the kind fi lends who 
 have offered me the gratuitf of being a welcome 
 gue.'^t in their houses, to receive the statement 
 above as my excuse for declining, and in connec- 
 tion, to receive my heartfelt thanks for their 
 proffered kindness. I also solicit my learned 
 friends not to criticise my work as a literary pro- 
 duction with too much severity, it never having 
 been mine to improve my composition by tne 
 criticisms of a teacher. And that every "living 
 neighbor may be able to w;^sh his hands in iuno- 
 ceney from the transgression, if my work shall 
 appear to be sucb, I have asked no aid of the 
 kind in preparing this letter. Neither have I 
 been able to perform the labor to my right arm 
 of re-writing my work, that I might improve 
 upon myself, as I have sometimes done in former 
 years. If the letters of my own writing, copied 
 into this, do not exactly compare with those re- 
 ceived by my friends, it is because of such revi- 
 sion in those forwarded. 
 
 I also ask to be excu-ed for sending my letter 
 abroad in so plain a dress. I doubt not the 
 Onrislian liberality of my readers will give them 
 to admit (hat it is as good as my circumstances 
 will warrant. "While I am content to appear as 
 an authoress in the best dress my Maker allows 
 me, my happiness is greatly increased by having 
 neighbors who are abundantly able to command 
 a better ; because I am gifted to enjoy beauty 
 and diversity wherever nature or art, in their 
 separate or combined influence, legitimately be- 
 stow them. But if these luxuries appear to me 
 to have been purchased at the expense of denying 
 to little children, and to those who have borne 
 the burden and heat of the day of life, that which 
 is needed to meet their real necessitie?, the beau- 
 
 ties fail of their power to please, as surely as did 
 the music of a certain instrument, which on a 
 former time became instrumental of teaching a 
 reflecting mind less haste. 
 
 I can not forbear inserting in this place, an 
 example of one who " being dead, yet speaketh." 
 Curtiss Hoskins, of Sheffield, Mass., was a lad of 
 uncommon power to plpase. His father was a 
 pious, industrious carpenter and joiner, whose 
 earnings were cousumed in the needful provi- 
 sions for his family, fo thnt he could not command 
 time to build for hiin.self a nevf house, where the 
 old had become time-worn. Curtiss was solicited 
 to go South to sell clocks, and the hope of being 
 able to help his parents to a better house through 
 the greater wages than he could commaTid at 
 the North, led him cheerfully to endure the priva- 
 tions of a traveling salesman. He was indefati- 
 gable in his efforts to cheer and encourage his 
 parents by his communications through the post- 
 office. Because of the expectations from that 
 soune, a good" house was purchased and pos- 
 sessed, and a few months was to give joung 
 Hoskins the joy of joining the loved family-band, 
 with power to pay tor the house which his father 
 held as his earth-home. But alas! Seotember 
 of 1836 announced the death of Curtiss Hoskins 
 by fever. i 
 
 If I mist a'-; e not, Vernon, ALibama, is 
 favored as the buryhig-place of this son of the 
 North, whos-e memory shall live long upon the 
 earth, brcau^e of his I31ial love. Never shall 
 I forget the appearance of his stricken father, 
 when he placed a package of letters in my hand, 
 as he said tome: '■'■There is a property which 
 has cost me, at the post-office, ten dollars in cash, 
 and it is the most precious treasure our hou«e 
 contains." The man who last employed Hop- 
 kins, to assure his bereaved ftimily of his own 
 affection for him, wrote them thaf. himself first 
 had the fever, and Hoskins attended him ; that 
 while sick he made his own will, and gave his 
 property to Hoskins. But he recovered, and 
 Ho-kins was soon taken with fcver, and died. 
 In the spring of 1849 the father of Curtiss Hos- 
 kins stepped into the opea air without his coat, 
 at an hour when dew was rapidly depositing, and 
 being informed that his creditor wa>; in'ent on 
 securing his debt against him without further 
 delay, he remained in the open air, under exciic- 
 meut, longer than he was aware; took to his bed 
 that nighr., under the depression of feeling that 
 he was to ba soon turned out of his home, and 
 tlie next day sent for a physician, saying it was 
 the first time in his life that he had employed a 
 doctor to himself. An illness of eight or ten 
 days released his spirit from its house of clay, 
 and gave him to jo-n, in a house not made with 
 hands, two noble youths, Curtiss and Franklin 
 Hoskins, who had, while on eart!', made glad 
 the heart of their father; also t.^o infant sous 
 and two infant daughters who had gone before 
 from the same family band. He who willed, in 
 case of bis own decease, his earth possessions to 
 Curtiss Hopkins, for reasons known to himself 
 and to the Judge of all the earth, never paid the 
 few hundred dcllais of Hoskins' lioi:P8t earnings, 
 designed by himsslf to smooth his father's pass- 
 age to the tomb. The .^ather struggled on until 
 his only remaining daughter had it in her heart 
 to go South as a teacher, hoping to be able to aid 
 in discharging her father's unmet obligations ; 
 
A MOTIIEK's PKACE OFFERlNCf. 
 
 109 
 
 •.^ ''ff hrr f!!in! hopea wcro miirjoi Ileloa wiw ' jv^Afftii"- , >«*~,.i.f. tK^i^ bnr^ >>*«» 'i»H Hv 
 •arlr ozIiauMmI idv capital '■ 
 
 I:. 
 
 ilavery. 1 
 ern will oni 
 
 i whnn I Ihv down the 
 
 V DoreiuidMl 
 
 p« rio'l of life in wlii-h «'> mfl- 
 miartfl and i 
 not niol ill 
 
 If I 
 
 are not joja to iha uurt^oewtni. 
 
 rent who rc-'lffis to f'!m'«h n 
 
 li tiiu l>o uinitUAt, atjii n<>iu- pity 
 \f. Y"", I «ni h<«pnr (■■» 'i • r, >! 
 
 , >. y iii- 
 where 
 I pray 
 i 7 can 
 
 '- 1 ng 
 
 " Ho that U despisi'd, and bath a Mfvant, is 
 laD be tl^at honoroth bimaclf, and htckeib 
 
 r I hate; je» 
 
 I nvi , uiid bauds that 
 
 '. w'i i' <\ ini.i^'ii litionil, 
 
 D iim 
 
 itiAf aoWhUi i;ibU>iii* AUu^tU Ciiunii.(..\.'' 
 
 ' Who but teUhM to Irv 
 Of OBOCH, Bins again 
 
 
 >u crowd. 
 
 They arc U\y muter*, thou Uicir 
 
 fXO-l •<•' I I 
 
 •t I I a' 
 
 ut Cm iHl, b:* aelf- 
 tV'«' )!) «V>t -t»er, 
 
 ly til iiiu u.iiiiu HH " Ui>i >!' 
 i'id«r." nr tAkitisf in vain ' 
 
 <u I'l toil li'in tiiai lie ta 
 . -SO new wayo. . 
 
 1 lUiuN luut t'r<jji<Jico againat ibstrumeata for 
 
 Sincerely and aflTcctionattly. 
 
 L. J. LiTTLK. 
 
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