CB 
 
Cbe JLitJratp 
 
 of t|)e 
 
 Onitjersitp of Jl^ottl) Carolina 
 
 Colkction ot Jl^ottfi Catoliniana 
 
 (KnDotocli bp 
 of tl)e Gllaus of 1889 
 
 CB 
 
UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 00032690847 
 
 This hoolc must not 
 he tahen from the 
 Lihravy huildin^. 
 
IN 
 
 FOND AND LOVING MEMORY 
 
 OF 
 
 JConnie l^inton Miiifitoii 
 

PROEiM. 
 
 These pages are intended not so mueh to eoni- 
 nicnioi-ate the life and character ol" my ])rccious 
 child, as to be heli)t'ul to her young friends in ini- 
 l)ressing upon them the silent but powerful influ- 
 ence which is constantly emanating from their 
 every-day lives. 
 
 This record of Lonnie's life as given through 
 friends who knew her best, cannot fail to show 
 that the speech and habits of even so young a girl, 
 testify daily to her character. 
 
 Lonnie early showed many traits of gentleness 
 and loveliness, yet all the while she desired and 
 labored to secure higher attainments and nobler 
 development. 
 
 Her gentle, loving, unselfish disposition which 
 manifested itself so wonderfully during her last 
 illness and elicited so many expressions of sur- 
 {trise and admiration from those who saw her, was 
 
not a sudden development or instantaneous blos- 
 soming of character, but these traits had grown 
 and strengthened in the lovely bud ere they un- 
 folded into the perfect flower. 
 
 May this chai)let of imniortcllcs woven by tender 
 hands to crown the memory of my precious child, 
 prove to be enduring in beauty and influence to 
 the dear girls who read these lovely tributes, as 
 they will always be to 
 
 Lonnie's Mother. 
 
LONNIE. 
 
 A tiny habe just gone to sloep. 
 Why does the tender uiotlier weep ? 
 Ah, s^reat has been her sorrow. 
 
 A little child, her father dead. 
 She lias beeoiiie in father's stead, 
 Tier mother's glad to-morrow. 
 
 A gentle girl with .sweet brown eyes. 
 As lovely as our Southern skies, 
 So beautiful, so tender. 
 
 A bounteous blessing she has come, 
 A flood of sunshine to her home, 
 Did Heavenly Father send her. 
 
 Tho' beautiful in litrm and lace, 
 iMore lovely far in Heavenly grace. 
 The i)assing moments lind her. 
 
 Her innocence and child-like trust, 
 Her natural impulse to be just. 
 Unto all hearts entwined her. 
 
 Her life completed in its morn, 
 Her day's work ended 'ere the thorn 
 Of lengthened toil could wuuiid licr. 
 
 She sees the smile without the frown ; 
 Fre(» from the cross, she wears the crown. 
 With kindred spirits round her. 
 
 L. M. D. 
 
Ill tliat ftreat cloister's stillness and seclusion, 
 
 By guardian angels led, 
 Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, 
 
 She lives whom we call dead." 
 
LONNiE Winston. 
 
 TjONNIK, (laughter and only child of Mrs. r^iura 
 A. Winston, died near Greensboro, N. C, July 2d, 
 1890, in the fourteenth year of her age. 
 
 She was born in Raleigh, N. C, August 2d, 
 1876. Her father, A. H. Winston, was called to 
 Heaven oidy live days after her birth, and thus 
 she became, in her earliest infancy, the sole 
 earthly comfort and joy of her mother's heart. 
 Even in babyhood her large, thoughtful, brown 
 eyes would watch the '' slow dropping tears " of 
 the sorrowing mother, and with baby caresses and 
 loving looks seek to win a smile and to bring the 
 love-light to her gentle, sorrowful face. And 
 never did she fail in her mission, for the mother's 
 heart would take courage for the sake of lier j>re- 
 cious child, and the answering caress and loving 
 smile, though often with l)linding tears, would 
 bring sunlight to baby's watchful face. 
 
 " Woulil yuii know the baby s skies? 
 Baby's skies are mother's eyes. 
 Mother's eyes and smile together 
 3Iake the baby's pleasant weather. 
 
Mother keop your eyes from tears. 
 
 Keep your heart from foolish fears. 
 Keep your lips from dull coniplaiuing 
 
 Lest the haby think "tis rainiii.u;. " 
 
 This little poem sent at that time to her mothei', 
 described most ])ertectly the sympathy that ex- 
 isted between the baby girl and her young mother, 
 and also shows how early began her influence and 
 tiie restraining, comforting, and beneficial effect. 
 
 Little Lonnie had most tender, careful nurture, 
 growing more and more beloved l^y all who knew 
 her, and, increasing in stature and wisdom, she 
 filled her niother's heart with love and joy. 
 
 Thus the unfolding of her character, the devel- 
 oping of all that was beautiful and good was a 
 constant source of delight to her loved ones and 
 friends. 
 
 The only falsehood her mother ever knew her 
 to tell occurred when she was about three years 
 old. When the exceeding sinfulness of telling 
 what was not true was explained to her by her 
 mother, she became so penitent that with tearful 
 e3^es slie clasped her little hands and prayed, 
 " Please, Dod, don't let me tell any nu)re tories." 
 
 Her greatest pleasure was to be with mama, and 
 by every word and act to show dependence upon, 
 and devotion to her. 
 
Under the careful training of her pious mother, 
 aided by a most devout grandmother and other 
 Christian relatives, she grew up fond of good 
 works and anxiously desirous of doing all she 
 could for the cause of her Saviour. 
 
 One little incident will give an idea of her sim- 
 ple, strong faith in prayer and illustrates the child- 
 like trust our Lord, himself, approved. 
 
 When five years of age she had frequent and 
 violent attacks of croup, and after one very severe 
 attack, when kneeling to say her evening prayer, 
 she asked, " Mama, if I ask God not to let me have 
 croup any more, will He not?" Her mother re- 
 plied, " Darling, it may be that God sees best for 
 you to have croup, but ask Him." So on fin- 
 ishing her little prayer, she said, " Please, God, 
 don't let me have croup any more," and she never 
 did. 
 
 It was when Lonnie was about six years old 
 that her mother believes she was genuinely con- 
 verted; since that time she ever tried in some way 
 to work for Jesus. 
 
 After her death, especially, servants, who had 
 lived in the family, have told how she often spoke 
 to them and asked them to " be good." She was 
 naturally a timid, shrinking child ; and when any 
 unpleasant duty was presented to her, she would 
 draw back from it saying, "0, mama, I can't, I 
 
can't;" yet if asked to do it to please mama, or 
 from a still higher motive, to please the Lord 
 Jesus, she would put aside lier timidity, as much 
 as possible, and perform the duty or accede to the 
 request. 
 
 It was her privilege to travel with ])er mother 
 quite extensively, and on these trips she was 
 associated with others of prominence, culture, and 
 piety. 
 
 She seemed to carry with her at all times the 
 conscious nearness of her Saviour, and often, when 
 apparently entirely engrossed in i)lay with other 
 children, she would suddenly leave them and run 
 to her mama to ask if certain expressions or acts 
 were right. This tenderness of conscience and 
 watchfulness on her part in regard to doing wrong, 
 did not lessen her enjoyment of the pleasures and 
 deliglits of childhood, but she rather entered with 
 added zest and interest into lier pursuits and plays 
 when assured of being right. 
 
 During one of her journeys amidst mountain- 
 ous scenery, awaking early one morning and look- 
 ing from the car window, while passing over a 
 river, she softly repeated to her mother a portion 
 of the following lines from the beautiful poem 
 " Cominti;." 
 
 10 
 
" It 111:13' 'j<^ !i' tlic pock-crnw, 
 Wlu'ii the ui^ht is dying slowly- 
 
 In the skj', 
 And the sea hioks cahn and I10I3', 
 
 Waiting fur the (hiwn 
 
 ( )f" the golden sun 
 
 Whieh draweth nigh; 
 When the mists are on the valleys, shading 
 
 The river's chill, 
 And my morning-star is fading, fading 
 
 On the hill; 
 Behold I say nnto you : A\'atch ; 
 Let the door be on the latch 
 
 In your home ; 
 In the chill before the dawning, 
 Between the night and morning, 
 
 I may come." 
 
 This little incident, from among many, is se- 
 lected to show the child's appreciation and apjili- 
 cation of the beautiful in Nature and Art. 
 
 About two and a half years of her life were 
 spent in Matamoras, Mexico, in an English school 
 of Missions, conducted by her aunt, under the 
 supervision of the Society of Friends. While so- 
 journing there she readily acquired the Spanish 
 language and spoke it fluently. It was in Mexico 
 that she was enabled to do her most efficient work 
 for the dear Saviour. 
 
 Just before leaving for Mexico a gentleman 
 
 11 
 
friend said to her, " Lonnie, I hope you will do 
 those little Mexican girls a great deal of good," 
 and she replied very distinctly, '' I will try." She 
 did indeed '' try," and her efforts were crowned 
 with abundant success. 
 
 The lady with whom they travelled to Mexico was 
 impressed with dear little Lonnie's distress when 
 in New Orleans, at the desecration of the Sabbath. 
 
 After arriving in Mexico the wicked customs of 
 the people and especially the untruthfulness of 
 the children often wounded her sensitive nature. 
 On one occasion she came to her mama weeping 
 bitterly and told her that one of the girls had 
 made fun of her " faith " and said her religion 
 was " all wrong." Yet before Lonnie left Mexico 
 this girl became an earnest, devoted Christian. 
 
 It is not known to any of us, God has these 
 things in His own keeping, what this dear child 
 did for these little Mexican girls with whom she 
 associated day after day. Her devotion to her 
 mama, her strict adherence to the truth under all 
 circumstances, and her fearlessness in denouncing 
 everything that was not true and right had an 
 untold influence for good. Her Sunday after- 
 noons were generally spent in relating Bible sto- 
 ries to the children, in their own beautiful lan- 
 guage. They were very fond of listening to her 
 and would constantly beg for " one more." 
 
 12 
 
She kept, while there, a diary in English, Span- 
 ish, and French. She had also finished translat- 
 ing about one-fourth of a sweet little Spanish 
 story into the English language, and told her 
 mania that if she could make any money from it, 
 all of it should go to the Mission work in Mexico. 
 This translation now remains, just as she left it, 
 between the lids of her Spanish dictionary. Let- 
 ters from her little friends and schoolmates in 
 Mexico show the good influence exerted by her 
 lovely character, and also tell how the girls looked 
 up to, admired, and loved dear " Lonita " as she 
 was called by them. One says, " She was always 
 such a dear Christian girl;" another writes, " Lo- 
 nita, we know, is with God and in a short time we 
 who are good will be with her." Still another 
 writes, " Never will I forget my dear ' Lonita,' and 
 the sweet hours spent with her in the school. She 
 was always a good Christian girl, and there is no 
 doubt she is now with the Lord Jesus. I have 
 always loved her ver}- much and can never, never 
 forget her." A lady friend Avrites that Lonnie's 
 influence is still fresh and strong over some of the 
 little Mexican girls, so much they felt the power 
 of her innocence and truthfulness. 
 
 In the spring of 1889, after the death of her 
 grandmother, Mrs. Yancey Ballinger, she returned 
 with her mother to North Carolina. The last 
 
 13 
 
entiy made in her diary was dated iMareli lo, 
 1889, just before she and lier mama left Mexico. 
 It is as follows : 
 
 Matamokas, Mexico, March 15, 1889. 
 
 "A ver}' sad thing has ha])pened in our family. 
 My dear grandma has gone to live with God : it is 
 not sad that she has gone to live with God — that 
 is glorious — but that she has left us alone. She 
 died February 8, 1889." 
 
 A beautiful trait in Lonnie's character showed 
 itself when her grandma died. Upon receiving 
 the first telegram that told of her grandmother's 
 illness she was quite overcome and could not con- 
 trol her grief. But when the last one reached 
 them telling that the dear grandmother had 
 passed into the skies, she forgot herself and tried 
 t<j comfort her mother. 8he put her loving arms 
 around her mother and said, "O, mama, it is all 
 right, it is all for the l)est, else God would not 
 allow it," repeating the same words several times. 
 The American Consul who was the bearer of the 
 sad news was surprised at the child's thoughtful- 
 ness for her mother and forgetfulness of herself. 
 
 In tlie winter of 1889 she came with her mother 
 to Raleigh to attend school. Tlie records of Peace 
 Institute show faithful conscientious work on the 
 part of the scholai', and her character was such 
 
 14 
 
that it is not strange that she was beloved by 
 teachers and schoohiiates. Many {)lans were hiid 
 for her education with a view that she miglit be 
 useful for the Master, glorifying Him in possess- 
 ing that inward adorning of the soul so highly 
 connnended in the blessed Bible. 
 
 Little has been said in regard to her beauty of 
 face and person ; she was so lovely to all wlio 
 knew hiT that it seems unnecessary to dwell ujjon 
 that subject or even attempt to bring uj) before 
 them the picture of her retained so vividly in their 
 minds. Could one possessing her attractions of 
 mind and heart be otherwise than beautiful? 
 During her last illness she had her mother read 
 to her, "The May Queen," wliich was one of her 
 favorites. 
 
 " For ever and for ever, all in a blessed lionie — 
 And thert' to wait a little while till you and (loved ones) 
 
 come — 
 To lie within the light of God, as I lie upon your 
 
 breast — 
 And the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary 
 
 are at rest." 
 
 Her devotion to her mother was the earliest 
 trait developed in her character, and it manifested 
 itself up to the last hour of her lovely life. It had 
 been her custom for years, when leaving her 
 
 15 
 
mama for a short visit or school, to ask, " Will you 
 take care of yourself?" or "Are you perfectly 
 well, mama?" or some question showing great 
 consideration on her part. Not an hour before 
 her loving spirit took its Heavenward flight she 
 asked, "Mama, must I be uneasy about you?" 
 The last precious Bible reading the mother had 
 with her darling child was the nineteenth chapter 
 of Revelation, and Lonnie said, " Mama, I don't 
 know the time when I did'nt love Jesus." 
 
 She seldom spoke of her father except to her 
 mother when they were alone, and then it was to 
 her sucli a delight and |)leasure to hear all that 
 her mother could tell about him. Yet during her 
 last illness she spoke of him fre(iuently, and just 
 l>efore her death she looked up and said, " Papa !" 
 as though he were present Avith her. She was 
 perfectly conscious to the last, and at one time 
 said in a clear, bright tone, " O, I am so liappy." 
 Then she looked up with a startled expression, 
 which soon gave way to one of wonder, as though 
 she were looking upon some scene that was not 
 familiar to her, then her countenance brightened, 
 and, looking up higher and higher with radiant 
 face, she passed beyond the portals of Heaven 
 opened to receive her. 
 
 One of those who stood by her bedside said that 
 as she looked up, up, higher and higher, it seemed 
 
 16 
 
that her spirit, like a beautiful bird, was soaring); 
 away shedding celestial radiance in its Heaven- 
 ward flight. 
 
 " 81i'f|> (III lieluved, sleo)) and take tliy rest; 
 
 Lay down thy head upon thy Saviour's breast; 
 We love thee well, but Jesus loves thee best — 
 ' Good-night !' ' Good-night !' ' Good-night !' 
 
 "Only 'good-night,' beloved, not 'farewell,' 
 A Httle while, and all His saints shall dwell 
 In hallowed union, indivisible — 
 
 'Good-night!' 'Good-night!' 'Good-night!' 
 
 " Until we meet again before His throne. 
 
 Clothed in the spotless robe He gives His own, 
 lentil we know even as we are known — 
 
 'Good-night!' 'Good-night!' ' <iood-night!' " 
 
 17 
 
A LOVING TRIBUTE. 
 
 " Notliiiiii; fails of its end." 
 
 What synipathios enrirclc those stricken ones 
 to-day ? 
 
 What sacred memories will cling to this home 
 so sorely bereft ? 
 
 We cannot see as God sees ! He has a plan for 
 the beautiful flower of human life, of which we 
 see only a part, and we are surprised when our 
 expectations are suddenly cut off. 
 
 W^e thought when we looked upon one so fair, 
 so beautifid, that her life would be continued in 
 our midst for years to come, while He was paint- 
 ing upon its petals the finishing touches before 
 transplanting it in Paradise. So here we stand 
 with aching hearts and empty hands to learn the 
 lesson that we are finite and that " His wa3's are 
 not our ways ;" that nothing here is permanent, 
 and we must prepare for the eternal. 
 
 In our thoughtless fondness we looked upon 
 this dear child as one who was just preparing to 
 do her work upon earth and did not discover the 
 
 19 
 
finished cliaracter of one who lind fulfilled her 
 mission. 
 
 Plainly is it visible that Lonnie had a mission 
 on earth and that the whole of her life, l)rief as it 
 has been, was devoted to it. 
 
 Early did she learn that her mission was to 
 comfort her mother, and instinctively did she de- 
 vote herself in her baby years to its performance. 
 
 80 all through the saintly life just closed, the 
 varied duties have been performed in turn. 
 
 She lived for others ! 
 
 The comfort heaped upon the desolate bleeding 
 heart of the lonely mother, the cheer and sunshine 
 scattered in the pathway of the grandparents — the 
 ha])})y sj>orts with uncles and aunts, the love of 
 Jesus borne to the children of Mexico where she 
 was truly a Christian light, and the example of a 
 Christian child-life; — the influence of a careful 
 conscientious student — the thoughtful devoted 
 daughter, who never left the mother's side in the 
 morning without a prayer that God would " bless 
 and keep mama through the day;" — the anxious 
 thoughtful care for her mother with her latest 
 breath ; — all of this and more h;is been the work 
 of tliis dear child. 
 
 The book of her life is finish(Hl when we thought 
 only the preface written. It is composed of beau- 
 tiful chapters of which, as we have scanned the 
 
 20 
 
sweet little incidents, it seemed we would never 
 tire and we long for iinother chapter; but she will 
 write no more, tlie book is completed. The golden 
 clasj) has been put on. Her mission is ended ! 
 
 She has not lived in vain — her work is done, 
 but her iuHuence is not ended. Her ])ure life 
 made fragrant with the blossoms of the ('hristian 
 graces has made holier all the young lives with 
 which she has been associated and her influence 
 still lives and will live on though she lias begun 
 to tune her harp in Heaven. 
 
 >i«J- 
 
 21 
 
■ She is not dead, — tlie child of oiir affection, 
 
 But gone into that school 
 Where she no longer needs our poor protectioi), 
 
 And Christ himself doth rule." 
 
 22 
 
IN MEMORY OF LONNIE WINSTON. 
 
 I^eath always comes veiled in mystery and 
 draped with sadness, and tlion»>;h but life's coun- 
 terpart, for where the one is there you find the 
 other, yet about the Providence wliich ])r()nipts 
 this sketch a peculiar sorrow lingers. The old 
 man bending beneath the weight of life's burden 
 and with the tremor of age in his hand, lies down 
 by the wayside of life, and giveth up the ghost 
 without wonder or surprise on the part of those 
 who have watched, loved and served him amid 
 his weaknesses and the decline of his last days. 
 But when the angel of death invades the sacred 
 precincts of a widow's home and lays his cold and 
 l)lighting fingers upon the heart of her only cliild 
 and thus ends a life brief, 'tis true, but radiant 
 while it lasted with sunshine and joy for all 
 around, and to human view so full of future 
 promise, then it is, we discover our arrival at that 
 pass in life, which to us is thoroughly inexplica- 
 ble and our oidy peace is found in looking aw'ay 
 in simple trustfulness to the dawn of that day, 
 
 23 
 
when there sliall be a satisfactory unlnldiiig of 
 that l^rovidence at which we can only look through 
 a glass darkly now — gathering sweetest comfort 
 from Him who said : " What I do thou knowest 
 not now, Init thou shalt know hereafter." 
 
 Lonnie Winston was born in a Christian home, 
 where she early learned the way of life and early 
 walked therein — hence the ripeness of her Chris- 
 tian experience was peculiarly marked because of 
 her tender age. She was of that lovely mould of 
 character which by its gentleness impresses one 
 with the fact that she has been in sweet contact 
 with the Saviour. Her piety found expression, not 
 so much in words, as in her cheerfulness, purity 
 and truthfulness. During her illness she sjjoke of 
 her prei)aration for death. She was not afraid to 
 meet death, to stand face to face with the King of 
 Terrors, for in his hand, he held a crown of ever- 
 lasting life for her now paled brow. 
 
 She was, as in all other relations of her lite, 
 faithful in the discharge of the duties devolving 
 upon her as a member of this Sabl)ath School. 
 She was jmnctual, attentive, studious and duti- 
 ful. We miss her presence in our weekly gather- 
 ings here and realize that in her death we have 
 lost a valued member. 
 
 To her loving and bereaved mother we tender 
 our sincere prayers and symi)athy, with the hope 
 
 •,M 
 
that the Holy Comforter ma}' apply to her l)owed 
 spirit the coin forts and eoiisolations of Divine 
 grace, so that she may he led to see only the ])right 
 side of this eloud. 
 
 " How sweet it will be in that beautiful land, 
 So free from all sorrow and pain, 
 With songs on our lips and with harjis in our hand. 
 To meet one another aiiain." 
 
 .Signed, J. H. CoiiDox, 
 
 J. (i. BkoVVN, 
 
 Mrs. T. B. Mosely, 
 Miss Myrtle White, 
 Miss Katie Belvin, 
 
 Cowmllhc. 
 
Wliat cdulil it mean ? On the joy of our i];\y 
 
 This swift ftluom of niiilit? 
 Can He mean us to work, or to tliink or tu jiray 
 
 With her face out of sicht? " 
 
 2(i 
 
LETTERS. 
 
 RALKKiH, N. C, July 3, 1890. 
 
 .... Voiir i;;riet' and loss is ours. You need comfort 
 and strenatli and so do we; we canndt nive any, butdo 
 pray I lie dear Lord to SHjiply all (hat is needed and are 
 assured that Ho will. 
 
 Ealeigh, N. C, July 1.3, 1890. 
 
 .... True eonilort must come from the Coniforler. . 
 . . You can rest satisfied " that as one whom his mother 
 Comfortetli," so the Lord will comfort you. . . . I dare 
 not trust mysell' to tell you how keen the loss is to me 
 and how the future had been i)ictured and planned for 
 
 the darliiii? child Blessed memory ! still there are 
 
 regrets that I did not have her with me more in the time 
 she was at school here, that T might have known more of 
 her sweet character, and if possible, loved her more. As 
 the child of my best friend, who fourteen years ago went 
 before, and I must say, as a chiM of our Church, for in 
 part she was so regarded, she was trebly ilear to me; in 
 addition to all these things, there was her own beauty of 
 character and spirit. Dear, dear Lonita : 2d 8am., ]2th 
 Chapter, 23d verse. 
 
AXN nARROR. :M|(II., 9-21-1S90. 
 
 .... Sekloiii if ever luive four words brought such a 
 sliock to our luiuseliold. We knew the almost perf'ee- 
 tioii of the eliihl and tli3' devoted love to her. Our hearts 
 Ideed for thee— to have lost thy earthly nil of family, 
 and one so bright and lovely as that sweet child, seems in- 
 deed mysterious. Only the Lord can sustain thee. May 
 his loving arms bear thee up. 
 
 Dear child ! young as she was, she did not live in vain. 
 Tier pure and loving life yet lives a bright example to 
 draw others to virtue and to goodness, to the love and 
 fear of the Lord. It has been with sweet pleasure that 
 we have heard of her influence still fresh and strong, over 
 some of those little Mexican girls, so much they felt the 
 power of her innocence and truthfulness. May the lesson 
 of her life j'et sink more deeply into many hearts. . . . 
 
 Batesville, Ark., July 19, 1890. 
 
 .... I have just heard of your bereavement; I weej) 
 with you and mourn for her as one "too bright and pure 
 for earth." 
 
 May the Everlasting arm.s be about you and as a ten- 
 der "mother comfurteth her child," may He comfort 
 vou. . . . 
 
 28 
 
Madison Springs, N. C, July 4, 1890. 
 .... The sad ir)tc'lli<reiice lias just roaclied me that 
 thy precit)us Loiinie has "gone up liigher." Words fail 
 nie to express the sympathy of my heart for thee. I feel 
 tliat I can only cry mightily unto God to be very near to 
 supiiort and strengthen thee. And I know lie will. . . . 
 I have watched the dcvotedness of your lives and thought 
 how lovely thus to live and work for the Master. . . . 
 Precious Lonnie seemed so willing to do her part and yet 
 so unassuming. Truly the ways of our. Father seem very 
 mysterious, but we can trust Him and be assured that He 
 makes no mistakes. 
 
 " God nothing does, or suffers to be done, 
 But thou thyself wouldst do, 
 Couldst thou see the end of all events, 
 As well as He. ..." 
 
 Greenville, S. C, July 27, 1890. 
 
 .... I have just heard through Miss D. of the over- 
 whelmini; sorrow that has come to you in the death of 
 dear *'Lonita," and I hasten to tell you how my heart 
 aches for you; nothing but God's grace can bear you 
 through it, but He has promised that it shall be suffi- 
 cient for you. . . . Lonnie was such a sweet, attractive 
 child and such a joy and comfort to you, it does seem to 
 our finite minds a strange Providence that calls you to 
 give her up. I am sure that the memory of her gracious 
 and beautiful life among us will long live in our hearts. . 
 . . Mr. M. joins me in sympathy and regards. 
 
 29 
 
Mkxola, N. C, Sept., 1890. 
 .... Ilcr life was so irreproachable ami admirable in 
 beauty and loveliness — she seemed a spirit of most deli- 
 cate and i^entle east. . . . T n^eall with jileasiire tho.sc 
 weeks she spent in myhdine and i^cliool with her Aunt ('. 
 In all lier le.ssoiis and plays, she was exceptionally model, 
 sweet spirited and intelligent. And 1 also recall with sad 
 
 pleasure our last meeting last April in 11 , she was the 
 
 same, modest, gentle, not shy, nor forward — but ailmira- 
 bly beautiful in mind and manner, intelligently respect- 
 fid, affiible and entertaining in conversation. . . . An 
 eminent minister once said to me, we must believe that 
 our Father is not less good when He takes away than 
 when He gives. " What I do thou knowest not now. but 
 thou shall know hereafter. ..." 
 
 Maiuox. N. ('., July It. 1S90. 
 .... I learned with sorrow and sympathy that your 
 precious Lonnie has been taken from you. Not having 
 heard of the dear child's illness, j'ou can imagine how 
 shocked I was to hear that she had gone from us. . . . 
 My heartaches for you in this great affliction. 1 know 
 not what to say to comfort you. J)car Lonnie ! She was 
 too bright fu* this world — God has taken her unto himself 
 for some wi.se purpose. . . . She seemed so perfectly 
 puie and sincere, so natural and free from self-eon.scious- 
 
 ness. To me she was a most lovely child. . . . .Air. C 
 
 joins me in sympathj'. . . . 
 
 30 
 
Matkiu ALA, ]\Ikxu(), July, l.SiHI. 
 .... Since licariniT of the deiitli of your precious 
 child, you have been coiKstantly in my thouglits. . . . 
 
 J was so (h'Vote(i to Jjonnie and had told me so much 
 
 about her that T had learned to love the dear child and 
 admire the strong Christian cliaracter that she possessed 
 at such an early aue. . . . The mysteries of tliese early 
 transfers from earth to Heaven, the Scriptures do not 
 solve, but we cannot mistrust (Jod. . . . The Ileavcnlv 
 Country has an added attraction — she binds us to life 
 eleinal. . . . 
 
 Providence, E. I., Aug. 2, lS9o. 
 .... I cannot tell you how my heart goes out to you 
 and how earnestly I have talked to our Father about you. 
 I am sure of His loving care for you at this time of 
 special need. . . . How near Heaven must seem to you, 
 and how high the privilege to be the mother of an angel. 
 Human words seem almost useless— but prayerful sym- 
 pathy is taken by the Spirit and used in His way. May 
 I tlius touch you, dear friend, and bring a tiny bit of 
 comfort. . . . 
 
 31 
 
Durham, N. C July 6, 1890. 
 . . . . T scarcely know wliat to say to yoii in tliis lioiir 
 of sadness, but I feel that I must assure you of the true, 
 deep synijiathy you l)ave from our entire household. You 
 have always been very near to us, and whenever you had 
 trials and griefs we entered into them. . . . The sad, sad 
 news was such a shock to us, as we did not even know 
 that the dear child was sick, and it had seen)ed only a 
 few days since we had such a sweet smile and wave of the 
 
 hand from you both on cars when leavinn; D that I 
 
 hoped it might be a mistake. . . . We all felt benefited 
 by coming in contact with such a dear, sweet loving in- 
 teresting child last October. I remember saying then 
 that she seemed almost too jiure for this world. What 
 precious memories you must have of her ! We read of 
 such, but seldom meet them in real life. . . . My chil- 
 dren were devoted to Lonnie. M says she was so ad- 
 mired by all at "Peace" and took such a high stand. 
 The melody of those Spanish songs she sang for me when 
 here, lingers with me still. . . . May God enfold you 
 and lead you lovingly on to the end. 
 
 38 
 
610 Bellefontain St., 
 
 Indianapolis, 7-8-1890. 
 
 .... Is it true? Ah, it cannot be true tliat deur 
 Lonnio, tliy only child has been taken from thee! Wo 
 are overwlielinetl with i,a-ier. ... My dear niece, may 
 the Everlasting Arms, be underneath, and the presence 
 of Jesus constantly felt. Grod is good, trust Him. 
 
 IMy prayer for thee is that He may teach thee to say : 
 "Thy will not mine, be done. . . ." " Whom the Lord 
 loveth, lie chastcneth ;" surely He lovcth thee much. . 
 . . M. seems almost sick from the shock. . . . 
 
 Chicago, III., July 7, IhdU. 
 .... What can I say to make you feel how much we 
 sympathize and sorrow with you in this sore bereave- 
 ment? Yes, " Lonnie is in Heaven " — this must be your 
 great consolation. No more sin for Lonnie. But oh, 
 liow our hearts sorrow for you. . . . ! God has taken 
 her— the "why" He will make plain on the "other 
 side." You know Him and can you not trust Him, as in 
 days gone by, to lead you through the dark way? May 
 He give such help and consolation as onh/ He can. Our 
 hearts rise in prayer for you. . . . 
 
 33 
 
Ann Arbor, Mich., July 31, 1890. 
 
 . . . . On a telegram from Brownsville last night, tell- 
 ing that J would start North to-day, was the uiiutter- 
 
 abl.v sad news of dear Lonnie's death. 0, how my heart 
 goes out to thee ! If sorrow and symjiathy and pity 
 could hell) thee bear the trial, thou surely would feel my 
 jioor help. But I know how powerless these are to lift 
 the burden of sorrow and unspeakable loneliness, and loss 
 that must weigh thee down, but for better help, the help 
 of our loving Lord, to bear the trial. To Him then only 
 can I bear thee in prayer. O, may thou feel the Ever- 
 lasting arms beneath sustaining thee ! 
 
 ■'A little while" were the strangely mysterious words 
 of our ]jord to his disciples, then filling them with awe 
 and ahum, but (ifU'rwards remembered as among the 
 sweetest of His utterances. May they comfort thee ! It 
 will not be long, in the measures of eternity, till you 
 are again united to part no more, — father, daughter, 
 mother.— 
 
 " O for the faith to grasp Heaven's bright forever. 
 Amid the shadows of Earth's little while. . . ." 
 
 34 
 
Point Isabel, Tkxas, July 17, 1890. 
 .... How shall I write and exju'ess even a small part 
 of luy intense sympathy for you in your great ami bitter 
 trial? Worils are so poor at such times — and how inade- 
 (juate when one longs most to comfort ! If the passing 
 away of dear Lonnie seems a great loss to those who 
 knew her as friend, how much greater to those to whom 
 she was so very precious ! For you my heart aches; but 
 for the dear child " it is well." " Safe from the world's 
 temptation " — gone before to await j'ou in the I'aradisc 
 of God. She has laid aside the garments of flesh to learn 
 new lessons— God has called her from this school where 
 she had completed lier task. ..." Blessed are the pure 
 in heart. . . ." May the Father of mercies and (rod of 
 r»// comfort, our only help, look down upon you in this 
 sad hour and breathe into your stricken heart His peace 
 which passeth all understanding. . . . 
 
 Greensboro, N. C, July 6, 1890. 
 .... Before your great affliction, I stand speechless 
 and ap[)alled. I cannot realize that .your lovely child, so 
 bright and promising, has been gathered in by the relent- 
 less Reaper, death. ... I do not know how to comfort 
 you, but I just wanted to tell you that my heart is full of 
 love and sympathy and I am praying that you may rise 
 from this night of gloom and sorrovN with your affections 
 purified and refined, talents elicited by suffering, and 
 strengthened and perfected to do more fully the Master's 
 work which you have so nobly begun. 
 
 35 
 
Raleigh, N. C, July 12, 1890. 
 
 .... How I wish it were in nij' power to lielp j'ou 
 bear your burden of sorrow, and that I could speak some 
 words of comfort to j'ou. T can only tell the Saviour how 
 very dear you are to me, and ask Him to be the very 
 Friend, Helper and Comforter that you need. . . . If my 
 loving praj'ers for you in their Heavenward flight might 
 pass J'OU like the rustle of an angel's wing, or brush your 
 cheek with a light loving kiss, you would know how con- 
 stantly you are in my thoughts and prayers. ... I do 
 not grieve /or you but loitli j^ou, for in our own home cir- 
 cle we miss the bright loving and lovely face of one who 
 from her earliest infancy has ever been regarded a a mem- 
 ber of our own family. I cannot trust myself to even 
 attempt (o tell you how very precious the darling child 
 was to us. 
 
 Brownsville, Texas, July 13, 1890. 
 .... The tidings of precious Loniiie's deatli reached 
 us yesterday — " it is well with the child " — but oh, how 
 our hearts grieve for you ! The same Hand that took 
 your darling holds out to you, your only comfort. May 
 He give you the grace that alone su.stains. Your darling 
 is .saved from all the bitterness of this life and has en- 
 tered on an eternity of bliss. I saw J. and C. yesterday 
 — their grief is great, so great for you. Every one who 
 knew her here is stunned at the announcement. "'The 
 Lord in nigh them that are of a hrohen heart. ^^ 
 
 36 
 
Consulate Genkral, U. S. A., 
 
 Laredo, Mexico, July 28, 1890. 
 
 .... I was sorely pained to hear of j'our deep afflic- 
 tion on onr return from a trip with S. E. and W. to Cor- 
 pus Christi. I could hardly believe it at first and the 
 sudden loss of her face from out this world is a very great 
 shock to us all. She was specially dear to uie — more so 
 I think than any other child in the whole world not our 
 relation. . . . Well, you are a Christian and her going is 
 oidy a going before — " His ways are not ours." 
 
 8. who feds the loss of one of her (only) two intimate 
 friends very deeply, will also write you soon. . . . When 
 at Corpus Christi, our girls made friends of two other nice 
 girls and we all started off for bath and walk so gaily that 
 I was thinking them Lonnie and Elizabeth half the time 
 — one of them had much of lionnie's shyly obstreperous 
 manner in joining S. and F,. in demanding that T follow 
 their united orders as to rides or walks or good things to 
 eat. And even then she had passed on before us. . . . 
 Well, you have had great grief before and God led you 
 through safely, although greatly borne down. — You must 
 give your will to help tlirough this also. 
 
Chkltenham, Penna., 7th Mo. 26, 1890. 
 .... It wa.s a most unexpected thing to receive a 
 
 letter from M announcing the going to Heaven of 
 
 thy precious child. I liad not heard of her illnes.s and 
 supjiosed }'ou both were enjoying your home in N. C. 1 
 can well understand what an affliction tiiine is — my heart 
 goes out in much love and intense feeling for thee in this 
 sad, sad hour. She seemed so bound up in thy life, as 
 part of thyself and as a link with the past that thou must 
 indeed feel borne down to the very earth. Lonnie must 
 
 have been a most lovely girl. J has so often spoken 
 
 of her in her letters and so often during her visit to me 
 last year. I recall how interested she was in making in- 
 quiries about the schools in Philadelphia that dear Lon- 
 nie might have the best. I have often thought what a 
 comfort she must have been to thy lonely heart, and liave 
 rejoiced in thy having such a dear charge. . . . The 
 ways of the Heaveidy Father are past finding out, and 
 the dispensations that He is pleased to mete out to His 
 children are inscrutable, and yet we know that "He 
 doeth all things well. ..." I should love to put my 
 arms around thee and assure thee of my love and syni- 
 patliy. 
 
 38 
 
RALKKiii, N. C, July 1, 1890. 
 . . . . T was crcatl}' shocked by reading' the announce- 
 iiieiit yesterday of your great bereavement in the death of 
 your only dauglitor. I need not say that you liave my 
 deepest sympatliy in this overwhelming sorrow which 
 must be almost more than you can bear. . . . Lonnie 
 liad greatly endeared herself to me by her sweet and win- 
 ning ways, lier gentle and refined deportment and her 
 fidelity to every duty. — I have never felt quite so deejtly 
 the loss of any pupil. . . . 
 
 Chicago, III., July 8, 1890. 
 .... T do not know what to write — words cannot 
 convey to you any idea of the feelings of my heart. As 
 I write my eyes are dimmed Avith tears and my heart is 
 filled with sorrow. How I wish I could say something to 
 comfort you, but you know where to go for strength in 
 your deep distress. While I weep, I also rejoice for I am 
 perfectly confident that dear Lonnie is to-day in Heaven 
 with her Saviour, whom she loved so much, and her dear 
 
 Papa Little did I think when I bade her good-bye 
 
 less than one month ago, that it would be the last time 
 on earth. Blessed thought! we shall all soon be in 
 Heaven where there will be no more parting. 
 
 39 
 
H. Matamokas, Mexico, July 11, 1890. 
 . . . . T feel how impossible it is to offer eonsolation to 
 yoii in this hour of darkness, yet I know yon trust in Hiiu 
 who has bereaved you. And as we know that He makes 
 no mistakes we must feel that in this, lie has done what 
 is best for us. You will recall how Jacob mourned for 
 his son, Joseph, and cried out in the agony of his soul, 
 " Me have ye bereaved of my children, Joseph is not, and 
 Simeon is not, and je will take Benjamin away ; aU these 
 things are against me !" Jacob did not know that at that 
 very moment Joseph sat next the King. ... I feel 
 that it was a privilege to know so pure and lovely a child 
 as Lonnie. I see how fitting that our Father should want 
 her with Him. Heaven needed another for the celestial 
 choir. ... I have been glad to be with J. and C. in 
 their deep .sorrow, made doubly so by this separation, 
 they sorrow for you, but we trust that Jesus has given 
 you special grace. Why should we sorrow when we know 
 that she is at Home in her Father's House. — So per- 
 fected and rounded was her character that she luust feel 
 wondrouslv at home there. 
 
 40 
 
Matamoras, Mexico, July 11, 1890. 
 
 .... I have just received tlie sad news. Am now 
 going to see your sisters who, 3Iiss L. writes lue, are 
 greatl}' grieved. May our dear Lord bind up your torn 
 licart. It is sad, terribly sad, to stay in a world where 
 everything we see or hear reminds us of our loved one, 
 sad indeed, but not hopeless, lor we know whom we have 
 believed, and we Iciiow that our treasure eommitted to 
 Him is safe. . . . Words are idle I know, when the heart 
 is crushed. The dear Lord who makes no mistakes, 
 knows what is best for the child. Lonnie is not dead, but 
 living — suffering, sin nor .sorrow can ever touch her 
 more. 
 
 I had hoped, as I am sure all her friends did, that she 
 was to have a long and useful life here, for which it 
 seemed that God in His Providence had given her special 
 training. . . . Useful it was, and long enough to do her 
 Master's will, though not as we wished. The Lord be 
 with thee and comfort thee. It was the only child of his 
 mother, and she a widow, whom our Lord comforted in 
 Nain. . . . 
 
 41 
 
CONNKLLY Spkings, N. ('..July 17, It^fiO. 
 .... My tliouglits have been with you ahnost con- 
 stantly since your return to your desolate home from the 
 new made grave at Oakwood. I know how your heart 
 aches for the caress and sweet companionship of your 
 lovely child. She must have been indeed a most lovely 
 and interesting girl, for I heard the teachers, as well as 
 the girls, at "Peace " speak of her so often in the very 
 highest terms of approbation. . . . No doubt your sad 
 heart keeps asking why need my greatest joy and comfort 
 be taken from me, and the only answer, is, "Even so 
 Father, for it seems good in thy sight." Our Lord has 
 abolished death and she has but entered on a higher ex- 
 istence, a fuller life, where disease and jiain are un- 
 known. I picture her as with joyful enthusiasiu she 
 enters upon that delightful service above. I deeply sym- 
 l)atliize with you in your loneliness that increases as the 
 days go by and the absence of the dear, graceful daughter 
 is felt more and more. . . . May (lod comfort you. 
 
 RiCiiMoNi), Va., July 23, 1890. 
 .... Need I say I weep with you? How comforting 
 the thought that " it is well with the child ;" to feel sure 
 that she goes on developing and unfolding under condi- 
 tions more favorable than earth can furnish. . . . Surely 
 the " Beloved has gone down into Ilis garden to gather 
 lilies" and has taken one of the most choice. . • . May 
 He who chose her comfort you. 
 
 42 
 
Oxford, N. C, July 4, 1890. 
 .... I wish I ooiiKl put my anus arouiitl you and tell 
 you liow I love you and how I sorrow for you — I have 
 just heard tha( your darling has gone on to her father to 
 wait, for you and T know tluit your poor heart aches. I 
 asked our loving Father to be all in all to you. How glad 
 1 am that you know and trust Iliin. It seems so sad — I 
 cannot realize that dear, bright Lonnie has gone. She 
 seemed so well and happy when I saw her last. . . . "It 
 is well with the ehild." I shall not try to comfort 3'ou, for 
 words are so empty and meaningless in an affliction like 
 yours. We are in the hands ot an all -wise, powerful 
 God, who never makes mistakes. . . . 
 
 154 College Ave., 
 
 Indianapolis, July 8, 1890. 
 
 .... Our hearts are beating in tenderest sympathy 
 and love for you, and almost breaking over the loss of our 
 dear little cousin. I wi.sh I were near that I might put 
 my arms around you and try to help you bear this great 
 sorrow. Look up to Jesus, dear cousin ; He will abide 
 with you. May sits and weeps with us. She loved Lon- 
 nie so much. . . . Who did not that ever knew her ? I 
 recall her visits to us with delight. I shall always re- 
 member her as the loveliest child I ever knew. . . . We 
 ask again and again why was such a perfect, beautiful 
 child taken away when it seemed so essential to us all 
 that she should live? It is not for us to ((uestion; we 
 cannot understand udic God's dealing with us, but " here- 
 after we shall know." 
 
 43 
 
Oxford, N. C. 
 .... Truly, our Heavenly Father is testing? you ! I 
 tremble to think what might become of me were I in 
 your place. I wish I could see you that we might talk 
 about the precious child. I regret so much that I never 
 saw and knew more of her. The pleasant visit from you 
 five years ago, being the only time that I was permitted 
 to know much of Lonnie, but she made a deep and last- 
 ing impression on me then, as being a lovely child, with 
 such a sweet and amiable disposition. I remember how 
 beautifully she |)layed with other children. Do you re- 
 call the little incident of her breaking the glass tumbler 
 when she was here, and how distressed she was, calling 
 you up-stairs and insisting on you telling me? She was 
 a child of such delicate, refined feelings. ... I often say 
 to my husband that T want our little Annie to be just like 
 her in form, feature and disposition. T pray for help, 
 wisdom and strength to instruct her aright, that by the 
 time she has attained to Lonnie's age, you may recognize 
 some similarity of disposition that will make you love the 
 child and feel that she does not forfeit her right of near 
 relationship to your own accomplished child. 
 
 44 
 
Franklinton, N. C, July 8, 1892. 
 .... Loiiiiie was too pure for earth, slie was a beauti- 
 ful cliaracter, and we all loved her so mucli, so gentle and 
 amiable in all lier ways ; and to us bid fair to live a long 
 and useful life, but God lias ordained it otherwise — has 
 plucked the bud before it bloomed and placed it on His 
 own bosoui, (hat He might inhale its fragrance and ad- 
 mire its beauty. But my heart aches when I try to 
 imagine the sorrow of your heart. I pray you may have 
 the help of our omnipotent Saviour. 
 
 63 Church Street, 
 
 AsHEViLLE, N. C, July 14, 1890. 
 
 .... How well do I know the powerlessness of words 
 to soothe in hours dark as these, and yet sympathy assists 
 us in bearing, although, it cannot lift the burden of sor- 
 row, hence I do not feel it an intrusion to express my 
 fondest love and deepest sympathy. To those of us who 
 have passed under the rod and felt the keen pangs of sor- 
 row, your anguish comes nearer than to those who have 
 escaped life's bitterest woes. . . . Well do 1 know that 
 with dear Lonnie's flight inspiration has gone out of life, 
 and the future too dreary to be met. But I beg you "be- 
 lieve in God, let not your heart be troubled." 
 
 45 
 
East Bend, N. (.'., July 8, 1890. 
 .... I cannot tell with what surprise and sorrow T 
 learned of the death of your precious, only child, some 
 days after you had laid her to rest beside her dear father 
 in Raleiirh. How m.ysterious are the ways of our Father, 
 whom we know does all from love, and we dare not doubt 
 Him, yet at times His rod lies heavily upon us. It must 
 be to wean us from this life. All of us are too anxious 
 for our loved ones, often causing a barrier between Him 
 and us. . . . Oh, dear one, my heart aches for you; may 
 our prayers be some help for ,i;race and strength. Mary's 
 prayer for you last night was for (lod to help us to love 
 you more and more now that precious Ijonnie is gone. . . • 
 There is a verse of Longfellow's on my mind: 
 
 "Not as a child shall we again behold her, 
 
 For when with rapture wild. 
 In our embrace shall we again enfold her, 
 
 She will not be a child. 
 But a fair maiden in her Father's Mansion 
 
 Clothed with celestial grace. 
 And beautiful beyond the soul's expansion, 
 
 Shall we behold her face." 
 
 46 
 
Brownsville, Tex., July 24, 1890. 
 .... Constantly have my thoughts been with you 
 since came to mo the word that your precious Lonnie had 
 been taken by other arms into another home in-ejiared by 
 other tlian eartlily h)ve for her spirit's eternal dwelliiii; 
 place. We are unable to see now the wisdom and love 
 that took so much of worth and pron)ise from this needy 
 world. \Ve know how you liad almost worsliijiped lier, 
 and how you had planned for her future. Her beauty of 
 person an(i cluiracter can never fade from my memory. — 
 Amonu: tiie sweetest pictures that hang on "Memories' 
 walls" is that of your devotediicss to each other when 
 we sojourned at the Gulf's side in '87. — May Divine 
 grace which alone can soothe such wounds as yours, be 
 abundantly given. 
 
 Keyser, N. C, .July 13, 1890. 
 .... I knew Lonnie was remarkably good, but it had 
 never occurred to me that it meant getting ready for 
 Heaven so soon. So well do I remember the dear child 
 at Camp Meeting last summer, and how she made the 
 servant woman who cooked for us promise never to take 
 God's name in vain again. I noted, too, with what fore- 
 thought and knowledge she disjjlayed the tact of one far 
 beyond her years in so many things. . . . 
 
 47 
 
HussEY Institute, 
 H. Matamoeas, Mexico, 9th Mo. lo, 1890. 
 
 .... Your .sorrow is ray sorrow, and j'our bereave- 
 uicnl mine also. I have felt to write j'ou was more tliaii 
 I could do. But when I look up, knowing that there is 
 sweet, angel Lonnie in all the joy and glory of Heaven — 
 she with the dear Lord Jesus and He with you, which 
 makes her nearer you than ever before — I feel that it is 
 ^iclfishness to grieve. . . . Letters of condolence and sym- 
 pathy of friends cannot bring resignation to a grief like 
 yours; only the grace of God and time can bring that 
 peace which your heart so reaches out for*. . . . Dear 
 sister, this " heaping of sorrow " means an harvest of 
 eternal joy. — This " darkness and loneliness " the dawn- 
 ing of the Sun of righteousness ; and the sum of the 
 whole, "I have made thy burden heavy that thou 
 inight'st lean upon Me, and thy way dark and lonely that 
 / might guide thee with mine eye. ..." The first 
 thought which flashed across my mind when I read, 
 " Lonnie's sweet spirit went to Heaven Wednesday " in 
 the telegram from Dr. A., was, "This is sorrow's crown 
 of sorrow." Then came the blessed consolation that her 
 loving Father did not permit her sweet gentle spirit to 
 know that great sorrow of being left without you. She 
 could never have understood how to have borne the sepa- 
 ration, as you can after a life with all its shadows. L. writes 
 me with reference to dear Lonnie's going away, "God's 
 dealings with us often seem mysterious, yet we know all is 
 prompted by infinite love. I think perhaps one of the sweet- 
 est experiences of Heaven will be the revelation of those 
 mysteries which these finite minds are notable to grasp." 
 
 •18 
 
I bolicvc tliat with even these finite minds wo are sonie- 
 limcs al)le to grasp the "whys." Life cannot be very 
 lonii at tlio fartliest, and it would have been a bitter sor- 
 row to you to have left the dear child in this world with 
 all its cares, responsibilities and disappointments. Do 
 you remember she said that some day she wanted to be a 
 Missit)nary — she was. While here she did her work — 'ere 
 now there irleau) gems in her well won crown. 
 
 You understand too well what the word MissidiKin/ 
 means for any explanation. How often the way is so 
 dark. Is it not better to think of her having escaped all 
 this for a life of glory ! When your work as a mother 
 had been perfected, God saw fit to remove her from you. 
 With the great King are your treasures — mother, hus- 
 band, child and Heaven — so look forward, not back — look 
 out, not in. This sorrow will be one of the sweetest memo- 
 ries when Heaven is gained. . . . On the 2d inst., the dear 
 people here held a "Memorial Service." — The " discur- 
 sos " were very precious. You will find in Lonnie's little 
 hymn book in Spanish the hymns sung, 63, Ufi, t)4. . . . 
 Dona Jose])ha has just been telling me how beautifully 
 Lomiie used to talk to her on their way to her music reci- 
 tations. And Miss Bryda [L.'s music and French 
 teacher] says she never knew such a perfect child. . . . 
 ]May God in His love and mercy deal very tenderly with 
 you. Do you not know what she would say if she could 
 speak to you? It would be, "Mama, it is all for the 
 best." Can't you find comfort in knowing that was the 
 way she viewed God's dealings with us — the teachings of 
 the little saint while she was yet with you? 
 
 49 
 
llie foUowivf/ Lf'.tfcrs arc from little Fnncli (tnd 3Iexi- 
 ean friends (f Lonnies: 
 
 INlATAMOKAS, Mkxico, July :50, lisyo. 
 
 .... We lia\ e heard the veiy sad news of dear Lo- 
 iiita's death; though we know she is in [Heaven, yet we 
 feel so grieved to think that we shall see her no more in 
 this world. But I intend to meet her in Heaven where 
 God will never take her from me again. I loved her so 
 much, she was so good. 
 
 On Lonita's birth-day (Aug. 2d) we had a meeting in 
 the Church for her — they sang some beautiful songs and 
 Don Luciano preached, and others spoke and read pieces 
 about Lonita and you. 1 have two letters that she wrote 
 me. I am going to keep them. You must be verj' sad 
 and lonely, but Lonita we know is with God and it will 
 be but a short time, till all we who are good will be with 
 her. Don't grieve for Lonita, for God docs all for the 
 best. 
 
 50 
 
NuEVo Laredo, MExrco, July, 18f)0. 
 .... I was verj' much grieved to liear that ii)}^ dear 
 friend, Loiinic, had died. Mama would not tell us until 
 we got back from our trip to Corpus Christi, for fear it 
 would keep us from enjoying ourselves. I am ver}' sorry 
 for you, but for Lonnie there is no sorrow, but perfect 
 happines.s because she was such a dear, Christian girl. . 
 . . Wiieii we were at Point Isabel together, I used to 
 Wonder how any one could be so good and kind to ever}' 
 one. T have several things that Lonnie gave me to re- 
 member her by, but her photograph has been ruined. — 
 If you have one to spare can you send it to me some time? 
 
 Matamoras, Mexico, July 13, 1800. 
 .... The Lord Jesus wished to have an angel more 
 in the Celestial World, so He called our dear loving 
 Lonita. So now she is rejoicing with the Lord and sing- 
 ing among the Angels. Oh, I have such a tender mem- 
 or}'^ of dear Lonita when in the school-room. I always 
 loved her so much. — I can never forget the sweet hours I 
 passed with her here. ... I remember how she used to 
 sit at my desk and study with me the History of Mexico. 
 And the last Sunday that she passed here I read with her 
 the Bible. We read the Psalms and marked some beau- 
 tiful texts. The last P,salm that we read was the 78th. . 
 . . Oh, how can T ever forget my sweet friend, Lonita ! 
 She was alwaj^s a good. Christian girl. . . . 
 
 51 
 
l0i| l^nrr ini mqs t{n0 5nllcn6 nuqsii|n sobrina 
 
 -^1 
 
 i| fit rcrurrbci be $n mnti'k trubra litr^aij rsia 
 iiodp im tiillo fjuncbrc fit d fcmiilo bf los 
 J^iui^os, til null tituitamos a ub, i| Familia. 
 
 T^ igalanmros, jr^oslo 2 br 1890. 
 
 See Translation on page 58. 
 
 52 
 
MEMORIAL SERVICE. 
 
 On tlie 2d day of August, 1890, Lonnie's 14th 
 birthday and the completion of one niontli in 
 Heaven, her friends in Matamoras, Mexico, held 
 a " Memorial Service," when several " discursos " 
 were delivered from which the following extracts 
 are taken. The translation gives only the general 
 sense, much of the beauty and tenderness of the 
 original being necessarily lost. 
 
 (By Gertmdis G. de Ureste.) 
 
 " And He said, take nowtliy son, thine only son, Isaac, 
 whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah ; 
 and offer him there for a burnt offering upon one of the 
 mountains which I will tell thee of."— Genesis, 22 : 2. 
 
 From the text we see the proof of love and obedience 
 tbat Jehovah asked of the patriarch, Abraham, to whom 
 was given the sweet name of "The Friend of God." 
 After that proving the Lord reaffirmed His covenant in 
 these words, "And in thy seed shall the nations of the 
 earth he blest, because thou hast nhryed my voice." 
 
 If we consider thoughtfully the dispensations of our 
 Father, we shall see that His love has no limit, that His 
 blessings are in accord with our obedience, and His re- 
 compenses are such that our intelligence can scarcely 
 reach them. 
 
 53 
 
Let us agree that now as well as in the (laj's of the just 
 Abraham, His special visitations to one of our sisters in 
 the faith is a clear indication that His blessings shall dis- 
 tinguish her. What those blessings may be the Lord has 
 them in His providences, as it is written, "Eye hath not 
 seen nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of 
 man, the things which God hath prepared for them that 
 love Him." 
 
 The greater part of those congregated here knew the 
 amiable child, Lonita H. Winston, whose Christian vir- 
 tues made all those who observed them esteem her, fiml- 
 ing in her a model of filial tenderness, an example of 
 modesty to the girls of her age, and an edifying type to 
 all of us who knew her dedication to the Holy Scrip- 
 tures 
 
 Lonita's sweet spirit flew to Heaven in the dawning of 
 the morning of her life. Her spotless soul has gone to 
 occupy the place Jesus *" prejtared," while it sings, 
 
 " En la mafiana 
 De me Existencia 
 La Providencia 
 IMe Sourid.'" 
 
 "In the morning of my existence. Providence smiled 
 upon me." . . . 
 
 Blessed She ! Blessed are they that die in the Lord ! 
 Blessed arc the chosen ones who are delivered from tast- 
 ing life's bitterness. . . . Pear children, do not permit 
 the influence of this beautiful life to pass from you. — 
 Cherish it! Imitate it! Remember it in detail! God 
 did not send her to you without a pur|)ose. 
 
 54 
 
{By Gnadalupe Martinez Gur'zd.) 
 
 Sad, very sad is tlie object of tliis incetini,'. All here 
 are conscious tliat we have come to llii.s place to let fall a 
 tear in remenibrance of our dear and amiable schoohnatc, 
 Lonita II. Winston, v^ho jnst one month ago to-day 
 closed her beautiful eyes on the scenes of this world. 
 
 We, the girls of Ilussey Institute, desiring to comfort 
 our own hearts by thinking upon the truths of the Gos- 
 pel and the hapi)iness of those who die in the Lord have 
 decided to comnieniorate to-day the death of one so 
 dearly beloved. We are here to think upon the Christian 
 virtues of that noble heart and to encourage ourselves by 
 her example. . . . 
 
 We remember Lonita well. In our imagination we 
 still see her graceful figure, and hear the echo of her 
 sweet and tender voice. Now that she is gone, how can 
 our tears but freely flow, and our hearts at the remem- 
 brance feel a thrill of pain ! 
 
 Nevertheless, because of the greatness of her faith, her 
 love to the Master, her obedience to the precei)ts of the 
 Gospel, we are assured that she is now enjoying the bliss 
 of Heaven. We know she is shining among the stars of 
 the blest. — A jewel adorning the crown of her God. 
 
 Let us turn this occasion to our advantage. Let us re- 
 member Lonita's faith and imitate it. Let us remember, 
 too, and imitate her punctual attendance upon the Sun- 
 day School and all the services held in this place. 
 
 I wish us also to remember how she loved us, and how 
 that love always kept her from those unkindly feelings so 
 common among schoolmates. . . . 
 
 Happy thou, dear Lonita, for thou art safe in the man- 
 
 55 
 
sions of perpetual peace ! Thou art weariiiir robes wliiter 
 than snow, for they have been washed in tlie blood of the 
 Lamb! Live haj)py among the angels! Knjoy thyself 
 among thy redeemed kindred! Meanwhile we ninst 
 journey on here until the Father calls us to join thee. 
 
 56 
 
The following- was clii»i)iHl tVoni '' El Kama dc 
 Olivia," a Monthly Periodical of Matamoras, 
 
 Mexico. 
 
 LONNIE WlMJTON. 
 
 Who anion^ff the Chri.stiuns of MiitauKnas did not know 
 the lovely and heautiful child whose name heads these 
 lines? 
 
 Who did not admire in her the natural .gifls with which 
 God had adorned her? And who did not recognize that 
 she made captive hy love and kindness all who came 
 within the circle of her influence? 
 
 We recall, scarce more than one year ago how full of 
 life and elegance she was, when, in company with her 
 mother, she parted from us to go to their native land to 
 continue her studies, with the intention, perhaps, to re- 
 turn to help her appreciable aunt in the noble and ele- 
 vated mission of instructing the youths of Mexico. But 
 God did not permit it.— He has called her to Himself. 
 Since the 2d day of last month she has been enjoying 
 blessings eternal. 
 
 Our grief for her departure is great, but our consola- 
 tion is that " Lonita " is with her Saviour, in whom she 
 always, since a little child, had great fiiith and perfect 
 love — faith and love inculcated into her noble heart by a 
 liious mother, to whom God gave grace to form her 
 daughter into a true Christian. Our sympathies are also 
 with her aunts, our sisters, who so far away grieve this 
 sad occasion that has come to put again, their yet 
 
wounded hearts, into the crucible. But tliey do not 
 mourn as those wlio have no hope, tlierefore they show 
 to us that they are Christians, made to conform to the 
 directings of the Almighty. 
 
 ]\Iay the estimable mother and aunts receive our sym- 
 pathy in this terrible grief. May God fill their afflicted 
 hearts with the balm of comfort. — Luciano Moscorro. 
 
 ( Translnlion of Card on j)(ujr 52.) 
 
 H. Matajnioras, August 2, 1890. 
 To day makes a month since the death of Loiniie H. 
 Winston, and in remembrance of her there will be this 
 night a I'uiieral service in the temple of the Friends, to 
 which we invite you and your family. 
 
 58 
 
GLIMPSES OF ft BEAUTIFUL LIFE. 
 
 " Not years, but actions tell 
 
 Of noble things trulj' done each daj% 
 He liveth longest, who liveth well, 
 All else is life but flung away." 
 
 Is it possible that an earthly career, bounded 
 by the narrow span of fourteen brief years, can 
 have seen enough accomplished to merit all the 
 pages of this volume for its record ? " Not years 
 but actions tell." From all this mass of testimony 
 is it not certain that Lonnie's was a long life, 
 measured by the standard of living well ? 
 
 A host of sympathizing friends have borne wit- 
 ness to Lonnie's rare gifts of person, mind, and 
 heart, from which spontaneous utterances the se- 
 lections have been made which are treasured in 
 this book; but the story of babyhood and earliest 
 childhood as it unfolded, day by day, within the 
 home walls, can be told only by one near of kin> 
 
 59 
 
Avho was privileged to watch all the stages of de- 
 velopment during the first few 3'ears. 
 
 To one of the members of the old home circle, 
 to whicli Lonnie's mother returned with her father- 
 less little one, is given the sad, sweet pleasure 
 of transcribing a few of the many pretty incidents 
 of this period with which her memory teems. 
 Should the result fail to picture a most winsome 
 little maiden, it will he because tiie loving aunt is 
 inadequate to the task of j^ortraying the beautiful 
 life of the fair sunbeam which flashed across our 
 pathway for only a moment of time. 
 
 This little ray of light we called Lonnie, to per- 
 petuate the name borne l)y the father, who went 
 away just five days after his little daughter came 
 to earth. So like unto him, in every respect, and 
 so constantly did she remind us of him, we think 
 she well merited her name. 
 
 She was the centre of attraction in the old home 
 of her grandparents, and so charming was she 
 in all her many little ways, that every morning 
 her appearance was hailed with delight by the 
 whole household of uncles and aunts. 
 
 Wlien only one year old, she was seriously ill. 
 During the first part of her illness, she lay with 
 lier precious little eyes closed, but, whenever we 
 called her name, she would oi)en them and smile 
 faintly. Her illness increased rapidly, and she 
 
 60 
 
ceased to open her eyes ; then, we realized how 
 dear she was to us, and what it wouhl cost to give 
 her up. But tlie trial was not to come at that 
 time ; life came back, and she was restored to us 
 more ]irecious than ever, if possible. Ever after 
 this, until her last illness, she had great terror of 
 physicians, and all medical attention had to be 
 administered through stratagem. 
 
 Once, while playing, she had a fall, from which 
 was afterward discovered a fractured collar-bone. 
 It was difficult to determine, between mother and 
 child, which had received the injury, so great was 
 the sympathy. When she had recovered some- 
 what from the shock, she looked up into her 
 mother's tearful eyes and begged, " Mama, don't 
 cr3^" The request was granted; but then came 
 the much-dreaded task of having a physician. 
 It was finally decided to take her to the doctor's 
 home, into the nursery among his children. When 
 she was in the midst of play, the doctor entered, 
 under the disguise of "Uncle Henry," a very de- 
 voted friend of her papa's, and the only person, 
 outside of her relations, whom she had ever per- 
 mitted to touch her; but the moment the doctor 
 attemi)ted to examine her shoulder, she fled to 
 her mama. 
 
 When about fifteen months old, she made with 
 her mother one of their accustomed visits to the 
 
 61 
 
home of her papa's only sister. While tliere, her 
 uncle " Peckie " taugl)t her to walk. The first day 
 after her arrival home, the trio of young aunts 
 kept her constantly going, until grandmamma 
 protested that the little cliuhhy limhs would be 
 tired out; but it was not easy for them to deny 
 themselves the delight of watching the grandest 
 accomplishment of baby's life. This trio of aunts 
 never dreamed that there was any forbidden 
 ground for Lonnie. 8he and her mama had 
 been invited to sj^end a few days with a friend in 
 the neighborliood ; the youngest of the three, who 
 called herself '' Aunt Casie," went one morning, 
 on her way to school, to see the little dear. When 
 time for separation came, it was too much for 
 both ; so, " Aunt Casie " concluded to take the 
 little one with her, but as they neared the school, 
 it occurred to the conscientious aunt that it was 
 not quite the thing to do, as experience had taught 
 her that nobody studied wdien baby came to 
 school ; still, the temptation was too strong, and 
 on they went. No sooner had they made their 
 appearance, than the aunt was reproved for bring- 
 ing " baby." " Well, then, Lonnie and Aunt Casie 
 will go back, if they don't want us here," said the 
 offended aunt. After this outburst, the little 
 three-year old tot took up the battle, marched 
 straight up to the teacher, and clinging tightly to 
 
 62 
 
her skirts, spent her indignation with a force that 
 was sufficient to prove that all the gentleness and 
 patience of the after time was due to divine grace, 
 even more than to natural characteristics. The 
 Avriter sees the little darling yet, as slie placed her 
 little hand in that of her aunt's, and both walked 
 indignantly away with a determination never to 
 return to that school. 
 
 She was very fond of her grandfather, and no- 
 thing gave him more pleasure than to entertain 
 her with little stories. Once, he was reading to 
 her the quaint old tale of the naughty boy steal- 
 ing apples from the old man who pelted him with 
 stones. She listened with deepest interest, and 
 when he had iinished, said earnestly, " Grand- 
 papa, I would not have an old man in this house 
 for anything," not for once realizing her grand- 
 father's age. On many occasions, in after years, 
 that grandfather delighted to tell of her talks to 
 him about " God and the angels." 
 
 When Lonnie was seven years of age, the writer 
 bade her good-bye for a long journey, not expect- 
 ing to see her for years to come. Her mother de- 
 cided to accompany me a part of the way, send- 
 ing Lonnie to renuiin with her "Aunt Casie," in 
 school. Delighted to join her aunt, and, at the 
 same time, feeling the separation from her mother 
 keenly — for these separations were few — the wri- 
 
 63 
 
ter can, in her mind's eye,,see her, as she sat within 
 lier uncle's arms, muffled up for her journey, 
 with those large brown eyes, brimful with tears, 
 looking back as she was driven rapidly away, to 
 be gone two long weeks from mama. 
 
 On Christmas day, just two years later, Lonnie 
 with her mother joined me in ni}' missionary 
 home in Mexico. The loveliness and beauty of 
 her precious life had developed in a marked de- 
 gree during these two years. A i)riceless little 
 gem she proved to be ; shedding radiant light 
 upon the pathway of many whose lives had been 
 spent in darkness. Such integrity in a child was 
 rather marvellous to those who had been taught 
 from early childhood, both by examjile and pre- 
 cept, that deception was a necessary constituency 
 to make life a success. Lonnie was ver}' studious, 
 and in a very short time mastered the Spanish 
 language to such an extent, and spoke with such 
 fluency and accuracy that not even the natives 
 could detect the foreign accent to any great de- 
 gree. Many were the compliments she received 
 from the school oflicials during our public ex- 
 aminations, in which she did the institution and 
 berself great credit. Whatever she undertook, 
 slie ))erfected. Unselfishness was one of tlie first 
 principles of her character. It apj)eared, not as 
 an occasional feature, Init as the whole habit of 
 
 64 
 
her life. One little incident of map-drawino; was 
 rather touching, as also illustrative of her perse- 
 verance. There was a large class i)r('paring iuai)s 
 for the examinations, and all the tables in tlie in- 
 stitution were occupied by these mai)S. Not find- 
 ing a jilace for hers, she quietly went into the par- 
 lor, and there spread her map out ui)on the floor. 
 Her teacher found her there upon her knees busily 
 at work. When some suggestions were made as 
 to her map, she begged, " Please, don't tell me 
 anything, Auntie; if you do, the map will not be 
 mine.'' Many of her maps and drawings still 
 adorn the walls of Hussey Institute. When sent 
 to practice her music, she would take her little 
 clock, placing it upon the piano; not one moment 
 of the hour would she lose. 
 
 The children were not slow to discover that 
 Lonnie's life possessed the true and the beautiful, 
 and soon she became their ideal of a Christian. 
 She had none of that austere nature one would 
 suppose might result from coming daily in con- 
 tact with a thing so obnoxious as falsehood must 
 have been to her pure life. Extremely sensitive 
 to the wounds to which a tender nature like hers 
 is exposed, yet courageous when the principle of 
 right or wrong was involved, her sweet, gentle, 
 quiet ways told of her refined nature better than 
 words can describe. She was a child of great 
 
 ()5 
 
adaptability, until yielding touched her higli sense 
 of honor, then she became firmness itself. Nothing 
 could ever induce her to come below the standard 
 of absolute rectitude. Often, the dark eyes of our 
 school children have filled with tears as they have 
 related, since she went away, the many little in- 
 cidents of her perfect life among them. In one 
 instance, this, illustrative of her loyalty to lier 
 mother: One of the girls, wishing to tell her a 
 secret, insisted that she should keep it from her 
 mother. Lonnie refused to receive her confidence 
 without the ])rivilege of telling mama. Not- 
 withstanding this,slie never lost their confidence. 
 Her ready accjuisition of tlieir language, her simi- 
 larity to their nation in her general appearance, 
 and ]io]ite, aff'al)]e manners toward them, gave 
 her a place of great respect and reverence in their 
 hearts. 
 
 Never did she impress me with the strength of 
 her cliaracter as when a physician was called for 
 medical advice for her. He prescribed wine. In- 
 stantly the word was spoken, she turned upon tlie 
 <loctor, while the mother sat astonished to hear her 
 modest, shrinking child defend the cause of tem- 
 perance with such earnestness. I was in the ad- 
 joining room, and came to learn the cause of this 
 warm discussion. When I entered, the doctor 
 raised his hands in holy horror, appealing to me 
 
 66 
 
for assistance in convincing the " little fanatic," as 
 he ternu'd lier, the like of whom he had never 
 met, that she should not oi)pose him and con- 
 demn such excellent medicine. When he discov- 
 ered that the whole household were in sympathy 
 with the child, he condemned her to the worst of 
 medicines, which slu; graciously accepted, having 
 so successfully gained the victory. 
 
 Notwithstanding Lonnie's unpretentious man- 
 ner, she was never indifferent to her personal ap- 
 pearance, which made her prepossessing even to 
 the most uncultivated. She never thought her 
 toilette complete without the little button-hole 
 bouquet, which she seldom neglected to wear. I 
 can see her yet, as she used to appear early in the 
 morning, in her snowy-white dress and red jacket, 
 with shining hair falling over her shoulders, while 
 she gathered flowers which her own busy hands 
 had cultivated in the little garden just opposite 
 my window. Oftentimes, I now sit and look out 
 upon the spot thus made sacred by memories of 
 the little gardener, herself so like unto a tlower in 
 the ])urity and fragrance of her life. Was not 
 her going away, too, a transplanting, such that we 
 can see, even through our tear-dimmed eyes that 
 
 " Not in cruelty, nut in wrutli, 
 The Reaper caiue that day. 
 
 07 
 
 t'flf » 
 
" He gazed at tlie flowers with tearful ej'es, 
 He kissed tlieir drooping leaves ; 
 It was for tlie Lord of Paradise 
 He bound them in his sheaves. 
 
 " They shall all bloom in fields of light, 
 Transplanted by my care ; 
 And saints, upon their garments white, 
 These sacred blossoms wear. 
 
 "And the mother gave, in tears and pain, 
 The flowers she most did love ; 
 She knew she should find them all again 
 In the fields of light above." 
 
 68