AT 1 8.
 
 ^NINETEEN 
 
 BEAUTIFUL YEARS 
 
 FRANCES E" WILLARD. 
 
 INTRODUCTIONS BY JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 
 AND LADY HENRY SOMERSET. 
 
 My darling ! When thou wast alive with the rest, 
 I held thee the sweetest, and loved thee the best ; 
 And now thou art dead, shall I not take thy part, 
 As thy smiles used to do for thyself, gentle heart? 
 
 MRS. BROWNING. 
 
 ENGLISH EDITION. 
 
 Xondon : 
 
 WHITE RIBBON PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 MEMORIAL HAI.L, FARRINGDON STREET, E.G.
 
 or
 
 TO 
 
 MARY'S FATHER AND MOTHER 
 
 THIS STORY OF HER LIFE 
 
 310 Dectcaten, 
 
 BY 
 
 HER ONLY SISTER, 
 
 AND 
 
 THEIR LOVING CHILD.
 
 Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PREFATORY NOTE. BY J. G. WHITTIER vii -viii. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. BY LADY HENRY SOMERSET ix.-xil. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER xiii.-xvi. 
 
 THE CHILD 17 
 
 THE SCHOOL-LIFE 30 
 
 THE HOME-LIFE 58 
 
 THE INVALID 149 
 
 LIFES CLOSING HOURS 165 
 
 THRENODY. BY JOEL BENTON 171 
 
 CONCLUDING WORDS 173 
 
 WHERE? A POEM. BY LUELLA CLARK 177 
 
 TWENTY YEARS LATER 181 
 
 APPENDIX 185 
 
 LINES. BY DR. TERRY 188 
 
 Illustrations. 
 
 MARY E. WILLARD FRONTISPIECE 
 
 MARY'S BIRTHPLACE 18 
 
 MRS. WILLARD 32-33 
 
 FRANCES E. WILLARD 64-65 
 
 MISS WILLARD'S DEN 96-97 
 
 REST COTTAGE ,. 160-161
 
 jilore* 
 
 I "'HE impression made upon me by the 
 -*- perusal of the first edition of this little 
 book has not been weakened by the lapse of 
 time. 
 
 It seems to me now, as it did then, 
 a very sweet and tender record of the 
 exceptionally beautiful life of a young woman, 
 whose rare natural gifts and graces .were 
 sanctified by a deep, but cheerful and healthful 
 religious experience, free from cant, affectation, 
 or bigotry. It is an attractive picture of the 
 " sweet reasonableness " of Christian develop- 
 ment a lovely human character flowering into 
 the beauty of holiness.
 
 PREFATORY NOTE. 
 
 The story is told by her sister, FRANCES 
 E. WILLARD, so widely known and honoured 
 for her work of Christian philanthropy. 
 
 It is a charming piece of biography ; and 
 it would be well if it could take the place of 
 many well-meant, but unwholesome, tracts 
 and memoirs now in circulation ; the tendency 
 of which is to depress rather than to en- 
 courage and strengthen the seeker after a 
 better life. 
 
 Amesbury, ^.th month 4, iSSj.
 
 Sntrotwction to tbe Bnglisb Eoition, 
 
 BY LADY HENRY SOMERSET, 
 
 President <>/ the Btitish Women's Temperance Association. 
 
 IT is popularly believed that the Temperance Reform is 
 prosaic ; but perhaps the poetry of life is best understood 
 by those who seek it not, but gather gladly the gay wayside 
 flowers that bloom beside the dusty road, where the 
 reformer needs must walk. The reproduction of this little 
 volume is a case in point. The life it chronicles is the direct 
 outcome of that far-reaching history that took the best and 
 bravest from our shores to found a new civilization upon the 
 noblest basis the human heart can know, liberty of intellect 
 and freedom to worship God. The cradles rocked by those 
 puritan pioneers were destined to send forth a people strong in 
 moral sense, and with a hardy holiness that took deep root in 
 the rocky New England soil, for which they had steered across 
 the wintry sea. Thus, the best that America has known should 
 ever be the glory of Great Britain, and this rare life, so racy 
 of the western soil, belongs to us, because its roots were nur- 
 tured in the meadows of the sunny slopes of Kent, ere they 
 were transplanted first to New England hills, and then to the 
 broad prairies of the West. 
 
 Life is a trust so mysterious that only eternity will reveal 
 its marvellous might in touching and transforming the hidden 
 springs of power that exist in every soul, and the tale of these 
 sweet nineteen years spent in the sacred seclusion of the home 
 and in the sunlight of the companionship of Nature and God, 
 have graven their mark on many a human heart with clear 
 impress and bright inspiration.
 
 X. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 It was on a rainy Sunday some seven years ago that I went 
 down, as I was wont to do when alone at Eastnor Castle, to have 
 tea with my capable and faithful housekeeper. We often 
 spent an hour or two on Sunday afternoons discussing 
 the affairs of the village and the wants of the tenants, among 
 whom she conducted large Mothers' Meetings and kept the 
 accounts of the women's Savings Clubs. I saw on her table 
 that day a little blue book and taking it up read for the first time 
 the title, " Nineteen Beautiful Years." Sitting down by the fire 
 I soon became so engrossed in reading that my housekeeper 
 could get no further response from me that day, nor did I move 
 from my place until I had finished the little volume. 
 
 To me it was an idyl of home life, fresh, peaceful and 
 tender, while its culmination in the passing of that purest 
 soul was a revelation of childlike faith that left me " nearer 
 heaven." The name of Frances Willard was but a vague outline 
 in my mind until that day. The Temperance Reform was only 
 then beginning to unfold its lessons and I was but in the infant 
 class of its <rreat World school ; but from the hour I read the 
 tribute that this broken-hearted girl of twenty-two had laid in 
 tears and loneliness upon her sister's grave, I felt the spell ot 
 that personality which has meant so much to women the World 
 over. The simplicity, the quaint candor, and the delicate touches 
 of humour and pathos with which the book abounds, brought into 
 living relief the character of one who has since become so nearly 
 allied to me in our mutual work for the home and for humanity. 
 Who of us can tell the unseen influences that guide the lives 
 of those who stand in the forefront of the battle, and who 
 may know the counsels that determine when those bound in 
 heart shall clasp hands in high endeavour ? Perhaps it was the 
 gentle angel who, watching over the destinies of her loved sister 
 sealed the friendship that unites in so close a bond that great 
 band of women in two continents who " wage their peaceful war 
 for God, and Home, and every Land." 
 
 TTNo small part of my great desire to visit America was the 
 expectation of going to Rest Cottage, the home of Mary's
 
 INTRODUCTION. xi. 
 
 mother and sister Frances. It was a golden October day in 
 1891 when, in the little porch covered with bronze coloured 
 vines and scarlet leaves, I first greeted that tall, dignified figure, 
 whom the White Ribbon women call " St. Courageous." Sum- 
 mers and winters had passed by, bringing with them the burden 
 of eighty-seven years, but the brightness of her spirit was in no 
 way dimmed ; the same intense power to suffer, which had 
 wrung the heart of the mother when she laid her youngest born 
 in the arms of God, was as keen as ever ; the same buoyant 
 hope which had upheld her daughter Frances in a perilous 
 path along the uplands of reform, was still as vivid as in the 
 old days of hardship and toil on the Western farm. 
 
 The inn >te refinement and culture of her spirit and manner 
 were the first strong impression I received. As we entered 
 the little parlour and she sat in her rocking chair in the calm dig- 
 nity that always characterised her, I saw on the walls the pictures 
 of those three who had passed on before, her husband, son, and 
 the sweet smiling face of the one who lived so short but so 
 beautiful a summer's day. I then realised how this patient life 
 had waited on in unconscious heroism through months and 
 years of loneliness, only rejoicing in the mighty work that took 
 her last beloved across a great continent in constant travel, 
 leaving her in the stillness and solitude of a home well-nigh 
 despoiled. Almost the last letter she ever sent me gives the key 
 to that communion which brought such constant solace into her 
 life : " I shall soon peacefully pass to the large company of my 
 kindred and beloved friends who have been gathering in heaven 
 or well-nigh a hundred years. No wonder that at my age 
 gravitation sets that way they seem to beckon to me they 
 are with me, and have been almost palpably for years ; this is no 
 fancy, it is as true as the Bible they have been very consciously 
 with me, and have kept me up in many a lonely hour. First of all 
 stands ' our Mary,' as I always call her, then her father, then 
 Oliver my only son, then conies my own sweet mother, my 
 stalwart father, my elder sister (the close companion of my 
 youth) oh, there is an army of them ! I presume that they are
 
 xii. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 getting ready for me over there, preparing for the time when, 
 by my second birth, I shall appear among them just as in this 
 world our folks at home prepared for me before I came. God 
 bring us all to heaven through Christ our Lord. Amen and 
 Amen." 
 
 A fortnight after she wrote these lines, her brave and dauntless 
 spirit had passed beyond the horizon line which lies around this 
 cradle of a world, and mother, father, daughter, and son, lie 
 side by side in the great God's acre of the splendid city which 
 they saw rise from the lone prairie wastes. 
 
 "Tell everybody to be good" was the last message Mary 
 gave to the faithful keeping of the true young heart who had 
 grown with her as two blossoms on one stem. The pages of 
 this book, traced through blinding tears, were the first outcome 
 of that mission. Its message has gone far and wide ; it has 
 been translated into many languages ; but the full measure of 
 the loyalty with which this trust has been fulfilled will not be 
 gauged in the perspective of time. 
 
 The White Ribbon, emblem of the pure protected home, that 
 gleams on faithful breasts in every nation, that greets us among 
 the women of South Africa, India, Australia, Ceylon and the 
 Islands of the Seas, that girds America and stretches across the 
 Atlantic to the old home whence the pioneers set sail so long a<io, 
 still bears the tender message that shall echo on in a refrain 
 caught up by fresh young voices as one by one the veterans' 
 voices fail, " Tell everybody to be good/" 
 
 Eastnor Castle, 
 Sept. 28th,
 
 Introtiuctort) 
 
 " 'T~^ELL everybody to be good !" These simple, earnest 
 JL words, among the last ever spoken by the gentle 
 girl whose story we have written, form at once the index to 
 its purpose and our apology for its presentation. 
 
 The delineation of a character, and the portrayal of a 
 life like hers although the one was in its earliest blossom- 
 ing, and the other had measured less than a score of years 
 
 will give her message to the world in a manner more 
 fitting and significant than if it were expressed in sermon or 
 in song. 
 
 And yet, when we contemplated preparing this biography, 
 our surface-thought was that it did not seem probable that 
 we could interest those who had never seen the pleasant 
 face of her who is our heroine ; who had never smiled at 
 her quaint words, nor felt a pang of sorrow for her in their 
 lives. 
 
 But reflection proves our error. One of our Greathearts 
 of the pen has said, what every reader's highest nature must 
 tell him is the truth : " There is an imperishable nature of 
 man, ever and everywhere the same, of which each particular 
 man is a testimony and representation. At a certain depth 
 all bosoms communicate all hearts are one." 
 
 So your grief, O Humanity ! is mine ; and mine is yours 
 
 by an irrevocable and blessed law. Thus, in some sense,
 
 x v INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 our interests are the same. If, then, we are of one family, 
 with one universal heart, why may we not talk in love and 
 sympathy even across the seas ? for your eye glistens on 
 that side, and mine on this, with the same emotion ; since, 
 as a generous soul has said, " I am human ; and whatever 
 touches humanity touches me." 
 
 Kind friends ! you would read of and discuss a fictitious 
 character with relish ; and surely you will be as much inte- 
 rested in this one, which is real, which is still in conscious 
 life; and which, though unknown to you here, will greet 
 you in the glorious, mystic land perchance ere very long. 
 
 You are not bidden to the contemplation of the character 
 of an ascetic, nor to one of an abnormal growth and a too 
 early ripeness. A pure-hearted, kindly girl is introduced to 
 you one whose development, though not rounded into 
 symmetry, gave promise of a noble womanhood : one who 
 loved life as well as you do , who studied diligently to pre- 
 pare herself for the beautiful years which she believed were 
 stretching out before her : who felt that life was 
 
 " A thing to be beloved, 
 And honoured holily, and bravely borne ; " 
 
 yet who, notwithstanding her deep sense of its duties, and 
 her earnest wish to merit its rewards, was known among her 
 young friends as the merriest of them all. 
 
 The writer has thought and this opinion has been con- 
 firmed by consultations with those well-qualified to judge 
 that this portraiture of a character so sweet and so pleasant 
 would not fail to be of interest to the young, for whom it is 
 more especially intended ; and that it could hardly fail to 
 make them better. 
 
 This Life of MARY WILLARD has been written lovingly ; 
 for the hand which has traced its lines is the same that all 
 through childhood held her chubby little fingers, as two
 
 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. XV 
 
 sisters took their woodland rambles, or went along the shady 
 path to school. And the story is of how she lived among 
 us with love and cheeriness ; how she was eager to grow 
 wise ; how she tried to be of use, and to make it a happy 
 thing for others that she lived ; how she grew very spiritual, 
 very " meet for angel's company ; " how Christ came for 
 her one beautiful June morning, and she went away with 
 Him. 
 
 If some rare plant should grow within your garden, with 
 fragile stem, delicate leaf, and pure white blossom ; if it 
 should elaborate from the material common to all the garden 
 from the moisture, air, and sunshine that pure corolla, 
 those fairy stamens, that faint, delicious fragrance, would you 
 not wish that others might see your treasure and inhale the 
 perfume which it bore? 
 
 This gentle girl was such a flower, blooming in the 
 garden of life. From elements beyond the reach of none, 
 she elaborated a character genial and beautiful. Its roots 
 were firmly planted in the truth ; the air it breathed was 
 love toward God and toward all that he has made. The 
 dews of gentleness and charity fell upon it, and were ab- 
 sorbed ; it expanded in the sunshine of faith ; and the per- 
 fume of humility filled all the air around it. 
 
 It can but cheer, and strengthen those who, like her, are 
 young who would gather within their hearts all sweet and 
 kindly qualities to contemplate one who, though not fault- 
 less, wrought vigorously during the brief years allotted to 
 her, believing that 
 
 " Sculptors of life are we, 
 With our souls uncarved before us." 
 
 and who, in that strength which was never yet denied to the 
 earnest supplicant, overcame all, even "the last enemy, 
 which is Death."
 
 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 Her outside life was not eventful ; but her intellect and 
 heart-history cannot fail to prove rich and beautiful, if pic- 
 tured even dimly. And we all know well enough that away 
 down in the heart, where it is still and quiet, is the place in 
 which all true living is done. As one " thinketh in his heart, 
 so is he ; " and what my sister thought in hers I know quite 
 well, for we kept nothing from each other a broad state- 
 ment indeed, yet one which is strictly true. 
 
 Books of the same general scope as this are frequently 
 consigned by the consolatory critic, without further com- 
 ment, to " the circle of relatives for whom they were no 
 doubt intended, and who will find a mournful pleasure in 
 their perusal." Lest some such mistake should be made in 
 the present instance, the statement may be permitted that 
 this book, however signally it may fail of fulfilling its design, 
 is not intended merely as a receptacle in which the memory 
 of a departed friend may be preserved however sweet and 
 hallowed that memory for the gratification of relatives. 
 Its use is meant to be a wider one ; and its author is not 
 without hope that many a bright-eyed youth and maiden 
 may rise from its perusal with braver hearts to do that whicli 
 is right ; with firmer faith in the unseen powers that work 
 for those who seek the truth ; and with a confirmed resolve 
 to be more gentle and heipful more diligent to win from 
 life its truest joys. 
 
 Now is Mary's story left to the criticism of strangers. 
 She was always sheltered from the keen edge of rebuke ; she 
 never knew the lack of sympathy. Dear friends who read 
 about her, may she find loving hearts in yours !
 
 Cftiltr. 
 
 *' Here at the portal thou dost stand ; 
 And, with thy little hand, 
 Thou openest the mysterious gate 
 Into the future's undiscovered land." 
 
 LONGFELLOW 
 
 " 'Tis strange how childhood's simple words 
 
 Interpret Nature's mystic book 
 How it will listen to the birds, 
 Or ponder on the running brook, 
 As if its spirit fed." 
 
 WILLIS. 
 
 WHEN the character and life of a private 
 individual are portrayed, the question with the 
 reader is not, Who was he ? but that other and more 
 important one, What was he to what influences 
 was he subjected ? 
 
 So, in this simple narrative, we shall have little to 
 do with names and dates ; but shall concern ourselves 
 with something more intrinsic, more vital than these. 
 
 Omitting then, as unimportant, the time and place 
 of Mary's birth, we introduce to you a chubby, fair- 
 faced child in simple frock and snowy apron ; with 
 sun-bonnet dangling by one string from her hand ; 
 with a firm, steady step, and a voice full of falling 
 inflections The force of a strong will compresses 
 
 B
 
 i8 
 
 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 her cherry lips ; the love of a warm heart sparkles in 
 her eyes ; the prophecy of a fine intellect is on her 
 broad, smooth brow. A sweet and pleasant child, 
 you would say at the first glance. 
 
 Country life has set carnations blooming in her 
 cheeks ; broadened her chest ; and given to her that 
 
 MARY'S BIRTHPLACE. 
 
 OBERLIN, OHIO. 
 
 sense of freedom and expansion, in which a noble 
 nature has its healthiest growth. Was it likely that 
 she, as a woman, should be dwarfed and intolerant 
 who, as a child, saw always the river flowing so 
 broad and so free ; trees throwing out their branches 
 leafy and strong, whither they would ; prairies
 
 A REMINISCENCE. 19 
 
 stretching away mile after mile until the eye ached 
 with following their track ? Surely, if one is reared 
 in sight of any grand scene of nature, he should, in his 
 hours of thanksgiving, make mention of the fact! 
 We cannot in a few pages give a more truthful idea oi 
 this child's life than by inserting the following sketch 
 written for a friend's amusement, some time ago : 
 
 You ask for my memories of those young years. 
 Were I a poet, I might sing of them so that vistas in 
 the woods, the murmur of streams, the scent of 
 violets, and the taste of nuts and berries should come 
 to your imagination as you heard me. O Nature ! 
 glorious mirror of Divinity ! What constant students 
 were we of thy myriad forms and mysteries, all 
 through those years of childhood ! As I write 
 separated by hundreds of miles from the dear old 
 home past scenes rise before me ; sounds once 
 familiar are in my ears. Away in the pasture the 
 cow-bell's mellow tinkle is heard : bringing sugges- 
 tions of cool and shady places, of odours moist and 
 sweet. The drowsy, dreamy feeling comes again, the 
 same which the music of the bells brought with it 
 long ago. Again the wind is making that endless, 
 breathing sound among the tree-tops ; again the 
 liquid notes of the blackbirds join in chorus, in the 
 poplar grove down by the river ; again the complaint 
 of the mourning dove, sweetest and saddest of songs 
 comes from the lonely depths of the woods. And so 
 
 B 2
 
 2O NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 the spell is upon me, and I will picture a few scenes 
 from the Past 
 
 A queer old cottage, with rambling roof, gables, 
 dormer-windows, and little porches, crannies, and out- 
 of-the-way nooks, scattered here and there, was our 
 home. The bluffs, so characteristic of Wisconsin, rose 
 about it on the right and left. The beautiful Rock 
 river flowed at the west side ; to the east a prairie 
 stretched away to meet the horizon, yellow with grain 
 in summer, fleecy with snow in the winter of the year. 
 Groves of oak and hickory are on either hand ; a 
 miniature forest of evergreens almost conceals the 
 cottage from the view of passers-by ; the Virginia 
 creeper twines at will around the pillars of the piazza 
 and over the parlour-windows, while its rival, the 
 Michigan rose, clambers over the trellis and balustrade 
 to the roof. The air is laden with the perfume of 
 flowers. Through the thick and luxuriant growth of 
 shrubbery are paths which stray off aimlessly, tempting 
 the feet of the curious down their mysterious aisles. 
 Following one of these in the afternoon of a summer 
 day, you will come to a fine old oak, on which you 
 will be quite likely to notice a board with these words 
 printed upon it, in large letters : 
 
 /-"" x 
 
 ( THE EAGLE'S NEST. BEWARE ! ] 
 
 Looking away up among the branches, you will see 
 perhaps, sitting on a rough seat fastened among
 
 CHILDHOOD. 2 1 
 
 them, a blue-eyed, brown-haired little girl, engaged in 
 drawing ; or in making a fancy fan out of blue jays' 
 and orioles' feathers ; or perhaps in fashioning a fine 
 white turnip into a drinking-cup. 
 
 If you are not quite a stranger, she will look at 
 you in an ingenious way ; and reply to any questions 
 you may ask with simplicity and freedom. The 
 honesty of her face and the fearlessness of her 
 manner may induce you to prolong the conversation. 
 If you speak admiringly of the flowers which bloom 
 in rich profusion on every side, she will instantly offer 
 to gather some of them for you ; and, descending 
 with graceful agility from her lofty seat, she will 
 cull the choicest blossoms, and arrange them with an 
 ease and delicacy which cannot fail to surprise you. 
 The nicety of discrimination shown in the grouping 
 of colours ; the quick, critical glance at the effect ; 
 the immediate discovery of a violation of the laws 
 of taste will strike you as unusual in a child 
 of eight or nine years old. If you suggest a ramble 
 through the garden, she will cordially take your offered 
 hand, and lead you to her favourite places, making 
 many quaint remarks in explanation of the various 
 points of interest. 
 
 Once, when acting in this capacity of guide, she 
 completed the round by bringing her friends to " her 
 ant-mound," as she called it, in a remote part of the 
 grounds. She was fond of sitting here to watch the 
 labours of the industrious little insects, which she had 
 taken under her especial care.
 
 22 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS 
 
 " I wonder if to God we don't seem as small and 
 as ignorant as those ants do to us ! " she said medit- 
 atively, as they all stood around the hill ; and added, 
 not speaking to any one, but " thinking aloud " : 
 
 " Oh no ! That cannot be true ; for it is natural 
 that God should care for us, since we are in His image, 
 and since His Son gave up His life to save us." 
 
 Some one began to stir up the nest ; " wishing to 
 see what the little creatures kept in it," he said to 
 Mary, by way of apology. She caught his hand, and, 
 looking up imploringly, exclaimed : 
 
 " Please don't ! Think how you would like to have 
 your house torn down by some great ugly giant, and 
 yourself turned out of doors ! " 
 
 The " Grave-yard of the Pets " was a favourite place 
 of resort. Here many tiny hillocks, carefully sodded, 
 were scattered about ; the glistening white shingles at 
 the head of each, giving an intimation of what lay 
 beneath. Among the inscriptions I can remember 
 this: 
 
 " Hush the light laugh and merry jest, 
 
 As you approach 
 
 The grave of Yorick 
 
 Well beloved ! " 
 
 No canary ever had a sweeter song than the yellow- 
 breasted warbler which had this epitaph. 
 Another one read thus : 
 
 " Beauty and Brighty, 
 
 Our Pet Rabbits : 
 We loved them but they died."
 
 THE PETS. 23 
 
 On another of these simple monuments to departed 
 worth, surrounded by elaborate carvings, are the 
 
 words : 
 
 "MARY'S WHITE KITTEN." 
 
 Every pet that died at "Forest Home" was certain to 
 receive a decent burial, and to be sincerely mourned. 
 Mary was very active upon these occasions ; and 
 whether it was her work to line the little grave with 
 leaves and flowers, or to sing, 
 
 "Alas, poor pet ! and did it die? 
 How dismal this must be ! " 
 
 she performed it with great earnestness and gravity. 
 
 Her love of the beautiful was early developed, and 
 was almost the ruling passion of her life. Sometimes, 
 especially in later years, it may have been mistaken 
 for something like personal vanity ; though this 
 could have been the case only among those who had 
 but a slight acquaintance with her, or who possessed 
 but a small power of discrimination. To one whose 
 love of beauty is so intense, a tasteful toilet is an 
 essential ; and this not with the idea, " I will adorn 
 myself I will seek to compel admiration ; " but with 
 this thought, or rather with this instinct, purer and 
 more worthy, " It is fitting, it is beautiful, to be 
 appropriately and tastefully dressed to present, so 
 far as is consistent, a fine personal appearance. For 
 this reason I will try to do so." Once in her Journal, 
 I remember, she speaks of wishing that she could 
 have a velvet dress of a colour that she admired. To
 
 2 4 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 those lamiliar with her character this was simply an 
 aspiration toward the beautiful for its own sake, 
 not for hers. 
 
 These aesthetic tendencies so early manifested led 
 to the organization of an " Artists' Club," consisting of 
 Mary, when she was about ten years old, and myself: 
 this proved a source of much pleasure and profit to us 
 both. From conversations to which we had listened, 
 and from books that we had read, we obtained the 
 notion ; and we worked it out in this wise. One 
 summer evening, at a meeting held in our little 
 room and characterized by a decorum and energy 
 seldom surpassed even in graver deliberations, we 
 drafted a set of " Resolutions " which, as subsequently 
 copied into a book obtained for that purpose, lie 
 before me now. They set forth our conviction that 
 concert of effort is conducive to success in any 
 undertaking ; and that this being true, we, " the 
 parties of the first and second part," did hereby " pro- 
 mise to pay" particular attention to the Fine Arts, and 
 would organize a society for that purpose. The Resolu- 
 tions proceed with many a " whereas," " therefore," 
 etc. to state more definitely the plan for executing our 
 design, and form an amusing medley of all the legal 
 phrases we could recollect having known gentlemen 
 to employ in business documents or conversations. 
 
 It seems rather strange that two who were almost 
 constantly associated, and who for many years had 
 no society besides that of each other, should thus
 
 " THE ARTISTS' CLUB." 2$ 
 
 formally unite in a new enterprise. But this was the 
 invariable mode of procedure. We found variety and 
 amusement in these business-meetings, and omitted 
 no formality during their progress which could add to 
 the dignity which we attached to ourselves in our 
 official capacity. The "associated effort" inaugur- 
 ated upon the occasion referred to was vigorously 
 made. 
 
 Only one office appertained to the Artists' Club, 
 and this was that of " Provider," whose business it 
 was to make all needful preparations for our semi- 
 weekly excursions for the purpose of taking sketches 
 "" from nature " ; to oversee and aid in the arrange- 
 ment of " the Studio," which we regarded as a 
 necessary appendage, and in the conduct of the 
 quarterly Exhibitions which we resolved to hold, " for 
 the purpose of cultivating the tastes of any who might 
 attend ; and also in the expectation that we might at 
 these Exhibitions dispose of any works of art, such as 
 sketches, paintings, or statuettes modelled in clay, 
 which we should be able to furnish to the public." 
 The " public " referred to consisted of our mother, 
 sometimes our brother, and friends who occasionally 
 visited in the family. 
 
 Full of enthusiasm, Mary, as " Provider," wearing 
 her badge of office a small baton carved and orna- 
 mented with ribbons set about preparing the Studio. 
 This was situated in an unfurnished chamber; the easel, 
 which was of home manufacture, and which, shining
 
 26 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 with paint of a dark mahogany colour, was our 
 especial admiration, standing in a dormer-window ; 
 while conspicuously arranged upon shelves which we 
 had put up were paints, brushes, and a glass pallet, in 
 lieu of the "better one" for which we sighed, but 
 which we were unable to obtain. 
 
 Around the room hung pictures of all sorts and 
 sizes: among them a life-size portrait of mother,, 
 in oils, which had been banished from the parlour, 
 owing to its lack of resemblance to her in any other 
 respect than that of size. Here and there upon im- 
 promptu tables stood vases of flowers, arranged with 
 the rare delicacy native to Mary. A wide bench was. 
 placed before another window, upon which was a pile 
 of clay of a peculiar colour and consistency, which 
 was finely adapted to our purpose as modellers. The 
 mallet and the chisel lay beside it, and around the 
 walls in r ts vicinity hung engravings of the " Greek 
 Slave," Thorwaldsen's "Twelve Apostles," and other 
 celebrated statues. 
 
 Here we worked with great enthusiasm ; but with 
 small results, owing partly to our lack of instruc- 
 tion or supervision. Still, as we often said, no days 
 of childhood were more beautiful in memory, than 
 those which we spent in the Studio, working with 
 clay, with pencils, or the brush. 
 
 But our sketching excursions were the most unique 
 occurrences. Picture to yourself a scene like this i
 
 A SKETCHING EXCURSION. 2? 
 
 An " Indian summer " day, with the yellow haze 
 hanging over it like a veil, or like 
 
 " The smoky light " 
 
 of Bryant's poem ; the woods aflame with the colour- 
 ings of Autumn ; the fields stretching away restfully,. 
 their year's work done. Slowly wending their way to 
 the pasture along the river-bank behold two little 
 girls, with sketch-books under their arms ; picturesque 
 caps upon their heads ; and bows and arrows in their 
 hands. One of them has, suspended by a ribbon 
 from her neck, a baton, with the word " Provider '" 
 painted upon one side. She leads a goat which 
 carries well-filled panniers. Two shepherd dogs walk 
 sedately in the procession. 
 
 Away down in the pasture, under some great 
 spreading tree, this curious caravan comes to a halt. 
 The panniers are unpacked, their contents proving to 
 be a small basket filled with luncheon ; a bottle of 
 spring water, with a clear-cut rye-straw to drink 
 through ; a ball of twine ; a claspknife, to be used in 
 exigencies ; and a little sketching-stool. While the 
 goat is tethered near a. thicket of hazel-bushes, the dogs 
 roam here and there, following the trail of a rabbit, or 
 making not very energetic and entirely futile endea- 
 vours to unearth a gopher* on the hill-side. The girls 
 lean against the friendly trunk of their chosen tree, and 
 
 * A small burrowing animal somewhat larger than a mole, found 
 in Mexico : also in Texas, California, and other Western States.
 
 28 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 talk of the Indian mounds near by ; of the happy 
 hunting-grounds which Indian theology foretells ; 
 of Mayne Reid's hunting-stories ; of Robinson Crusoe 
 and the Swiss Family Robinson. Sketches are taken; 
 the luncheon is appropriated ; clusters of purple 
 grapes are plucked from branches that droop over 
 the path ; hazel-nuts are gathered, cracked, and 
 eaten ; while snatches of simple songs and merry 
 laughter tell plainly enough of the happy hearts that 
 are pleased with these rural enjoyments. 
 
 Often a stroll is taken among the trees, which 
 usually results in the discovery of "Jack" a favourite 
 horse ruminating, in some sense of the word, among 
 clumps of hazel-bushes. When this fortunate discovery 
 is made, one of the young artists gallops home on the 
 horse's back, while the other follows, at leisure, with 
 the caravan. 
 
 In a childhood so isolated, many would, naturally, 
 be the devices for obtaining amusement The fore- 
 going scene is given as a specimen. 
 
 Time would fail me to recount a tithe of the 
 adventures, the hair-breadth escapes, the amusing 
 episodes, the curious conceits of which our childhood 
 was full. The novelty of experiences which every- 
 body might relate, prefacing each with the time- 
 honoured formula, " When I was young " is often 
 increased when the resources for amusement are few ; 
 and the ingenuity, never more active than in one's 
 early years, is taxed to supply this deficiency. With
 
 WISE TRAINING. 2 
 
 the exception of one family of children who were 
 our playmates for a few of the last years at " Forest 
 Home," and to whose fertile imaginations we owed 
 the pleasure that many a merry adventure afforded 
 we were left to ourselves and to our parents for 
 society. 
 
 To the thoughtful love which sought for a vigorous 
 physical development, and for the cultivation of 
 kindly, truthful characters instead of priding itself 
 upon a precocious intellect, even at the expense of 
 a suffering and puny frame we can never be too- 
 grateful. With memories stored full of sunshiny 
 days, in which were merry games ; strolls through 
 the woods and over the prairies ; rides in the fields ; 
 work in the garden we count childhood a sweet and 
 blessed season, and turn with braver and more 
 thankful hearts to face the labour and the weariness, 
 which future years shall doubtless bring.
 
 And sometimes, it is even so ! 
 
 The spirit ripens in the germ ; 
 The new sealed fountains overflow 
 
 The bright wings tremble in the worm." 
 WILLIS. 
 
 " And when the soul, struggling to be approved, 
 
 Says, ' Could I love ! ' and stops God writeth loved" 
 
 MARY was not precocious. " First, the blade ; 
 then, the ear; then, the full corn in the ear" 
 was the wish of her parents concerning her, and the 
 natural law of her development. At the age of 
 ten, she could sew tolerably well ; had worked a 
 " sampler ; " could play a few tunes and quick-steps 
 on the piano ; could sing anything from " Blue Eyed 
 Mary " to " Dundee ; " had read the Bible through ; 
 knew the Catechism " by heart ; " and had been 
 introduced, merely, to the three "common branches" 
 of an English education. 
 
 Until she was eight years old, her mother and the 
 grand old Mother of us all were her only teachers. 
 So well-pleased was she with their instructions, and 
 so loth to increase the number of her preceptors, 
 that at the beginning of her school-life she mani- 
 fested but little zeal in the pursuit of knowledge,
 
 EARLY TROUBLES. 31 
 
 and was not in the least ambitious. Unaccustomed 
 to mental application, and loving shady nooks in 
 the garden better than the rough bench at school 
 caring for birds instead of books, and more familiar 
 with rambling than reading it is not strange that 
 her first summer at school was a solemn and un- 
 happy season to the little girl, notwithstanding the 
 efforts of her kind teacher to make the time pass 
 pleasantly. Many times each day did tears fall upon 
 the pages of "Pinneo's Primary Grammar," especially 
 where that most uncompromising " list of preposi- 
 tions" stands arrayed. Often, with the weary foot 
 moving to and fro as time-keeper, have I seen the 
 little tear-stained face turned aside, while in whispered 
 tones she " went through the A's : " " About, above, 
 across," etc. But the mysteries of " Long Division " 
 were her " Slough of Despond " that summer. Often, 
 passing through " mother's room " when study hours 
 were over, I have seen Mary sitting by her side and 
 listening attentively ; while her brightening face told 
 that the problem was growing clear to her through 
 the explanation of the only one who never grew tired 
 of the little girl's importunities for help. 
 
 Once she came bounding out of this room with glow- 
 ing cheeks, and the brightest smile that she had worn 
 for many days, exclaiming: "Oh, Frank! mother says if 
 I learn to write \vell,and learn grammar,geography,and 
 something about arithmetic besides, I need not go to 
 school any more in all my life, if I do not feel like it"
 
 32 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS 
 
 A few years afterward, when Mary had become a. 
 diligent and successful student, her mother reminded 
 her of this agreement that had been made between 
 them, saying that in those earlier years she had full 
 faith that by-and-by her little girl would be as fond 
 of solving difficult questions in mathematics as she 
 was then of finding out how many blue jay's eggs 
 there were in the fir-tree nest, or of obtaining an idea 
 concerning the height of the hay-rick by sliding down 
 the sides of the same. 
 
 After her mournful apprenticeship at learning,. 
 Mary was allowed to remain out of school for a year 
 or two ; when, awaking to a sense of her deficiencies > 
 she became clamorous for those very opportunities 
 which had been a source of so much pain to her a. 
 little earlier. She was sent to a new school, con- 
 ducted by Professor H., a highly-educated gentleman 
 of the neighbourhood. From the day that he became 
 her teacher, she was earnest and untiring in her efforts 
 to acquire an education. Her lessons always demanded 
 her attention first : amusements came afterward. 
 
 The conscientiousness that was always prominent 
 in her character and life was particularly marked in, 
 her deportment at school. Many pupils seem to 
 regard school regulations as arbitrary strictures- 
 unjustly imposed, which must be observed, from 
 motives of policy, while the teacher's eye is upon 
 them ; but which are to be utterly disregarded when 
 they arc left to act their own will. The fact is.
 
 MRS. WILLA.RD AT 
 l-'roin a Photograph by Cha;-. E. Smith, Evanston, III.
 
 OBEDIENCE TO LAW, 33 
 
 painful, that it is rare to find a school-girl who will 
 not, under any circumstances, break the smallest 
 regulation : for example ; who will not by motioning 
 to a fellow-pupil, to point out the lesson for the day, 
 or to pass a book from the opposite side of the desk 
 violate the rule that no communication shall be 
 permitted. Mary never did even this. 
 
 To her conscience the word " communication " in- 
 cluded all means by which an idea might be conveyed 
 from one mind to another. Surrounded by thoughtless 
 girls, many of whom would speak without permission 
 when they felt sure of escaping detection, she would 
 shake her head, deeming that no violation of rule, 
 since it was but an attestation of her unswerving 
 allegiance to authority. And when, as was occasion- 
 ally the case, some friend who very seldom trans- 
 gressed would, in an exigency, make some enquiry of 
 her unpermitted, she would look up regretfully ; then, 
 with a smile, would lay her finger on her lip, and cast 
 her eyes upon her book again. Yet, though so rigidly 
 adhering to her views of right, she was so cordial, so 
 helpful toward her schoolmates, so merry in play- 
 hours, that she never inspired the feeling of coldness 
 so often manifested toward the decidedly " good 
 girls " of a school. 
 
 The Female College at Milwaukee, Wisconsin, was 
 the scene of Mary's first labours as a student away 
 from home. In this excellent Institution, under the 
 care of an aunt who was one of the teachers and to 
 
 C
 
 34 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 whose thoughtful kindness Mary owed most of the 
 happiness of the entirely happy months spent there 
 she made fine progress, and preserved her moral sen- 
 sitiveness unalloyed amidst many temptations. 
 
 But at the North-western Female College, Evanston, 
 Illinois, she spent most of her school days ; and from 
 this Institution she graduated in 1860, at the age of 
 seventeen. That she completed the college course 
 thus early is sufficient evidence of her aptitude for, 
 and diligence in, study. Under the guidance of kind 
 and faithful teachers, she thoroughly mastered studies 
 that were sufficiently abstruse to tax the powers of 
 minds much more mature than hers. Though very 
 social in her nature, she relinquished the pleasure of 
 associating with her friends at their various entertain- 
 ments ; and though it was a stern sacrifice to one of 
 her tastes caused it to be understood among them 
 that her studies required her attention at all times 
 during the week except on Friday evening and 
 Saturday afternoon. Indeed, she cannot be called a 
 model in respect to intellectual industry ; for she un- 
 consciously exerted herself beyond her strength 
 especially during the last year of her life at school. 
 
 It was most interesting to watch her growth. Phy- 
 sically, the robustness of childhood gave way to the 
 slight and graceful figure of youth ; which, though 
 pleasing to the eye, gave little promise of the 
 strength that is necessary to make one equal to life. 
 Mary was above the ordinary height, and possessed
 
 A HEALTHY NATURE. 35 
 
 unusual grace of carriage and sprightliness of manner. 
 Her face grew pure and spiritual with each added 
 year of study and experience. Looking upon it, one 
 could not help believing that a kind and guileless 
 heart had its expression there. 
 
 " She was the well-beloved of all " 
 
 \vho came to know her truly ; those who penetrated 
 the reserve which surrounded her, yet which was not 
 permitted to become unpleasantly apparent, so well 
 was its tendency corrected by the air of kindly frank- 
 ness which characterized her social hours. But even 
 then a delicate perception discovered the fact that 
 " thus far shalt thou come, but no farther," was an 
 inexorable law of her nature. She had a sufficient 
 amount of good taste, however, to avoid with care 
 that appearance of mysteriousness which many young 
 ladies seem to think charming ; and which raises a 
 suspicion, even in the most charitable of their friends, 
 that a sickly sentimentality, fostered perhaps by the 
 reading of ill-selected novels, is manifesting itself in 
 this way. 
 
 From such a charge, as we have said, Mary was 
 free. Her nature was a healthy, hearty one. Her 
 wants were few and simple. She was not hard to 
 please. A sunset scene, a picture, a bunch of flowers, 
 would give her genuine and not short-lived enjoy- 
 ment ; while friendly words and smiles were the 
 warmth and the light in which her nature unfolded its 
 rarest qualities. 
 
 C 2
 
 36 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 To her everything was religious. Her great 
 strength, notwithstanding many endowments, was 
 in her earnest purpose to have the mind that 
 was in Christ : to perceive God in all the scenes 
 and to acknowledge Him in all the actions of her 
 life. Hers was not a feverish, morbid piety ; it was 
 vigorous and normal. It was not prisoned in her 
 closet, nor between the lids of her Bible: the fragrance 
 of a Christ-like life was not alone upon her Sabbath- 
 day attire ; but its sweetness purified each word and 
 action of her common history. To love and to be 
 loved was her aim ; " to do good and lend, hoping 
 for nothing again ; " to carry the crystal of truth in 
 her hand unsullied, undcfaced by the least approach 
 towards falsehood ; to walk with one hand clasped in 
 Christ's, the other reached down for the comfort and 
 sustaining of 
 
 " Whatever beneath her might creep and cling : " 
 
 these were the dearest wishes of her heart. 
 
 Very early in life these tendencies were manifest. 
 Before she was five years old, her brother, then 
 thirteen, signified to his mother his wish and intention 
 to be a Christian. He invited his sisters to join him 
 in a prayer-meeting on Sabbath evening. Mary was- 
 always present, and was very earnest in her little 
 prayers. Soon she too came to her mother, saying 
 that " she loved God, and would like to be a Christian 
 if she were old enough." When at school she attended 
 the meetings held among the pupils, and always.
 
 "HER LIFE TALKED." 37 
 
 prayed, though making no profession at that time of 
 being changed in her purpose of life. Indeed, she 
 never referred to any particular occasion as the scene 
 of her " conversion," and no marked change was 
 noticed by her friends in a life always strangely pure 
 and true. She spoke but little about her feelings 
 upon what she sometimes called " The One Subject 
 in all the world." But her life talked. To " do " was 
 the first verb in her creed : to " say " came afterward. 
 But strangely combined with this earnestness and 
 devotion was that subtle spirit of humour which 
 wreathed her lips with smiles and mellowed her tones 
 with laughter. This loving-hearted girl shrank before 
 the sting of sarcasm ; her wit has its symbol in the 
 playful pinch which a father gives to the cheek of his 
 roguish boy, or the pretended bite which a mother 
 prints upon the tempting, snowy shoulder of her babe. 
 The most exquisite illustrations of this peculiarity we 
 must forbear to give ; as they involve personalities 
 from which they derive their character, and which 
 delicacy requires us to keep unseen by any save 
 familiar eyes. 
 
 Mary's Journals will tell the story of her growth 
 during the season that we would describe as no other 
 pen than hers can tell it. The careless, childlike 
 sentences are given just as she wrote them, in her 
 graceful, girlish hand. During her school-life she had 
 not time for any writing beyond the exercises required 
 by her teachers. The Extracts which follow were
 
 38 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 nearly all of them made from a Journal kept early in 
 her eighteenth year, just after she left school. 
 
 March 5, 1860. This beautiful morning dawns 
 upon my seventeenth birthday. Truly is it said that 
 this is the sunniest part of life when the future lies 
 like a pleasant land before us ; when the present has 
 us ; when the present has no clouds, and the past 
 seems good and fair. O kind and loving God ! on this 
 happy natal morning I give Thee unfeigned thanks 
 for life and the blessings it has brought to me. From 
 infancy, through childhood, up to youth, Thy hand has 
 brought me. Still keep and still preserve me, Father up 
 in heaven ; and grant that when unworthy I am taken 
 from this pleasant, pleasant world, I may through 
 Thy great love, go to live in one still more 
 beautiful, for the sake of Christ, our Saviour. Dr. F. 
 closed the Bible after his discourse at the chapel 
 yesterday, with these words : " Brothers, with most 
 men life is a failure." What thought could be more sad 
 than this? I'll try oh, I will try to fulfil God's 
 design in my creation as well as I know how ! 
 
 April 29. Since school commenced I have not 
 written much in my Journal ; for, as this term is my 
 last, I am more heavily taxed than ever before. To- 
 day, however, I need not deny myself the pleasure. 
 This morning Dr. Foster* preached in the presence of 
 
 * Rev. R. S. Foster, D.D., President of the North-western University, 
 Evanston, Illinois, preached his Farewell Sermon, April 29, 1860 
 previous to leaving for New York. [Now Bishop Foster.]
 
 DR. FOSTER'S FAREWELL 39 
 
 this people the last sermon that they may ever hear 
 from him. It is needless for me to remark upon the 
 merits of the sermon. As Dr. F. stood up before the 
 large audience for every seat and even the aisle was 
 full he looked sad, though very calm. But when, 
 at the close of the discourse, he addressed the 
 students of the University, his more particular charge, 
 his feelings overcame him. 
 
 The church was full of crying when he said : " I 
 have loved you, and have been proud of you, young 
 gentlemen ; I have cherished the same feelings toward 
 you that a father has toward his boys. I think you 
 have felt this." Then he told them that his greatest 
 sorrow in leaving them was the remembrance that 
 they were not all religious. He said : " My words of 
 counsel and of entreaty that you should be good and 
 true Christian men I hope you will not forget. You 
 have heard them in public lectures ; and in private, 
 when no one but yourselves was present Let them 
 not be forgotten." He stopped and covered his face. 
 We all wept together in silence the noble man, and 
 those who loved him. After a brief pause, he said : 
 " I must master myself sufficiently to repeat the re- 
 quest that I have made let them not be forgotten? 
 
 I seldom cry ; but then I could not help it. As 
 Dr. F. stood before us saying farewell, I thought 
 
 " If I should ever win that home in heaven 
 For whose sweet rest I humbly hope and pray : 
 In the great company of the forgiven,"
 
 4 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 among the radiant faces close by God's throne I 
 should see that of this great, good man, whom 
 " none know but to love, and none name but to 
 praise." 
 
 Without date. Several weeks have passed since 
 the above was written ; and many changes have taken 
 place, some of which have been connected with my- 
 self. I have " graduated " since then. My school- 
 days, " viewed as such " (to use Dr. D.'s frequent 
 expression), have closed ; though I hope my days of 
 growing wiser may never come to an end. I shall 
 not dance in the sunshine nor walk in the shadows 
 of a school-girl's life any more. The daily round of 
 duties, half-pleasant, half-wearisome, is ended ; and 
 though I may regret it by-and-by at least so certain 
 " grave and reverend seigniors " have said I am not 
 sorry yet. I will try to cultivate my mind by reading 
 and by associating with intelligent persons. God has 
 placed me in the midst of friends whom I love very 
 dearly. I am almost happy ; and if I were a 
 Christian, I should be very happy indeed. I wish I 
 were a Christian ; and yet it is foolish to wish. Why 
 do I not say that I love God because He is so good 
 to me ; and that I will try, in Christ's strength, to do 
 those things that He requires ? This is all the de- 
 mand that the Bible makes of me. I should feel 
 very much ashamed if I did not say as much as this 
 in speaking of an earthly friend to whom I owed
 
 AT HARLEM. 41 
 
 everything that his love and his power could give me. 
 Why can I not act as reasonably toward God, instead 
 of saying, " I wish that I could say and show by my 
 life that I am grateful " ? Revelation and my intellect 
 show me the relations in which I stand to the Ruler 
 of the Universe, as plainly as I see those in which I 
 stand toward the Governor of the State in which I 
 live. In both cases I am the inferior ; but the degree 
 of my inferiority differs infinitely. How it is that I 
 cannot readily take hold of things spiritual, He whom 
 I would worship knows much better than I ; and to 
 Him I will earnestly pray for light and peace. 
 
 HARLEM, near CHICAGO, August. As Frank* and 
 I sat here reading, Clara came running upstairs, and 
 said, " Oh, girls ! ma says a man was just now killed 
 on the track when the cars passed." 
 
 How the thought shot through my heart ! A 
 man killed so near us while we were so painless 
 and calm ! It makes no difference to me what man 
 it was, for I do not know any one here ; only I hope 
 that he was good. He is out in that strange "eternity " 
 now, and stands before the Judge of all worlds, to 
 give an account " for the deeds done in the body ; " 
 and perhaps, oh, perJiaps his sins have not been 
 blotted out by the blood Christ shed for us ! But be 
 this as it may, whether the change to him has proved 
 
 * Her usual name lor her sister.
 
 42 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 for better or for worse, he knows the answers to many 
 of those wonderful questions which we vainly ask all 
 our lives long. Ah, to the wisdom of that poor 
 labouring man the acquirements of all the theologians 
 on earth are not to be compared. 
 
 After all, this is a sober world : and we ought to 
 take warning by this terrible event that has transpired 
 so near us, and try to live for a better one, where 
 nobody is killed by the cars, and no hearts are broken 
 by the loss of those they love ; where nothing ever 
 " hurts or destroys " for all the paths up there are 
 paths of peace. 
 
 EVANSTON, August 28. This "fall" and winter I 
 intend to spend more time in reading than I have 
 ever done before. For I am very ignorant about 
 books ; and this worries me, though I do not blame 
 myself for it, since I studied as well as I knew how all 
 through my schooldays, and of course had no time 
 for miscellaneous reading. I have written to Frank 
 to make out a list of such books as she would like to 
 have me read ; and I will abide her instructions. I do 
 wish to be something more than a common, unin- 
 tellectual girl, whose mind is filled with "floating 
 fancies," in which some black-eyed or blonde- 
 moustache^. Adolphus acts a conspicuous part. I 
 believe there are subjects more worthy even of a 
 girl's thoughts than this which I have indicated. We 
 are told that " everything is beautiful in its season ; '"
 
 THE " ONE THING NEEDFUL." 43 
 
 and 1 have no wish to " antedate the day " when " an 
 affair of the heart " shall engross my attention. If I 
 should live to be a woman and I pray that this may 
 be the case I shall have a nobler, truer character, 
 if I give all my strength to the pursuit of earthly and 
 of heavenly wisdom for several years yet. So father 
 and mother often say, and I know it is the truth. 
 
 But after all, the " one thing needful " is what I 
 care for more than for all other blessings. Oh, if I 
 only felt that I had love and faith toward God ! If I 
 could realize His presence, and that He is my nearest, 
 dearest friend, should I not then love to pray to Him ? 
 I wish that some one would make me know these 
 things : I think about them in such a dreamy way. 
 Sometimes the thought flashes over me : Where shall 
 I go when I die ? and it frightens me very much. 
 But at other times I am indifferent to this idea. I al- 
 most dread to grow older to walk steadily on 
 through these pleasant days toward that narrow, 
 narrow bed where I must lie at last. 
 
 Thursday evening. In my room. I am having a 
 private prayer-meeting ; and am almost resolved to 
 have one every Thursday evening while good people 
 are at church holding theirs, unless I should decide to 
 go there myself. I have looked out through the win- 
 dow into the clear sky and up to the beautiful moon, 
 and wondered where God is. I have imagined a 
 great somebody in a great somewhere, who is full of
 
 44 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 strength and kindness ; and I have prayed that 1 
 might believe then trust then love. 
 
 September 6. I went to the prayer-meeting to- 
 night, and listened to the petitions offered so 
 confidingly to the God I know not of. Yet, I do 
 know of Him though ; for I have lived in a Christian 
 land, and have had religious parents to teach me 
 about Him. And yet I do and yet I do not believe. 
 When I pray, and try to think who it is that hears me. 
 and how it is that He hears me, I find it rather hard, 
 Often in the daytime I look up into the sky, and im- 
 agine that God is up there somewhere. I try to get a 
 grand idea of Him, and think of all the stars as great 
 worlds that He has made ; of this wonderful earth on 
 which I find myself placed ; and of myself, more 
 strange and wonderful than all the rest. But I do not 
 think of Him as all around me; His nature shutting 
 in my soul on all sides, as the air closes around my 
 body. It seems to me that I cannot pray to abstract 
 Infinity to something stretching on and on, like 
 space. What would mother say if I should tell her 
 about my troubles ? Frank is gone, or I would talk 
 with her. 
 
 What do Christians think of, I wonder, when they 
 pray ? 
 
 Why have I never been converted ? I have been to 
 the altar several times, to show that I wanted to be 
 good ; and the people prayed for me the kind
 
 WRECK OF THE "LADY ELGIN." 45 
 
 Christian people and yet I did not feel any better. 
 To-night our pastor asked those of us who wanted to 
 be God's children to manifest the wish by coming to 
 the altar ; but I did not go. I came home feeling very 
 sad ; and yet, when we were talking and laughing 
 downstairs a few minutes afterward, I found that it 
 did not take much to drive off my sober feelings. 1 
 have just been reading in the Bible : and it says that 
 God is pleased with a broken spirit ; and that He 
 waits to receive all those who sincerely desire Him ; 
 and that He is anxious to help us on in everything 
 good and holy. Oh, is not some of this for me ? O 
 Thou who dost hear prayer, whether we are conscious 
 of it or not, teach me how to do Thy will ! 
 
 September 9. What a fearful thing has happened 
 since I wrote last ! While we lay slumbering peace- 
 fully on our pleasant pillows, scenes of wretchedness, 
 and death were passing out on the lake, where we have 
 loved to sail when it was smooth and blue. The 
 steamer Lady Elgin, bound from Chicago to some 
 northern port, and carrying three hundred passengers, 
 was wrecked on Friday night during a violent storm,, 
 two or three miles from here. Three-fourths of the 
 entire number on board were lost. It is frightful to 
 think of men who had never cared much about God,, 
 who had not tried to please Him in their lives, as 
 being ushered into His awful presence without a 
 moment for repentance ; and of delicate, beautiful
 
 46 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 ladies, tenderly shielded from pain and danger ever 
 since they were born, left at the mercy of the furious, 
 yellow waves shrieking for help as they drifted help- 
 lessly awhile ; then went down under the waters, away 
 from warmth and light away from life that had been 
 so sweet. 
 
 All day long the waves have been bearing to the 
 shore in their mighty arms the lifeless forms of those 
 very dear to some one somewhere. Many were borne 
 to the land in this way who were still alive ; and most 
 of these were rescued by brave hands hands that 
 were faithful because there were great Christian hearts 
 behind them. Many of those who were thus saved 
 knelt on the wet sand and thanked God for their lives ; 
 but one man when he was taken from the water, 
 cursed bitterly because his wife was lost. Christ pity 
 him, if he never repents ! 
 
 Oliver says that he saw the body of a beautiful 
 young girl lying on the floor down at the depot : and 
 he thought from the expression of her face that she 
 had been in life as proud as she was pretty ; one who, 
 perhaps, would hardly have spoken to the rough 
 sailor who lay dead by her side. But we would not 
 judge her ; God has done that already. I hope they 
 will 
 
 " Take her up tenderly, 
 Lift her with care ; 
 Fashioned so slenderly, 
 Young and so fair." 
 
 Suppose that I had been upon that steamer. How
 
 " GOD IS HERE ! " 47 
 
 I should have cried ' God pity me ! ' as the awful 
 waves swept on ; and yet, though I was safe in my 
 father's house, I need His pity almost as much now. 
 
 Sabbath evening. I cannot go to church to-night. 
 Oliver was tired after trying to be of use to the 
 people who were wrecked ; and I could not go alone. 
 Perhaps it is as well. I'll try to be good upstairs in 
 my room. God is here as much as elsewhere. I am 
 going to read the Bible and to pray. What if I 
 should be converted here alone ! I did not get along 
 very well with my Sunday-school class to-day. With 
 the exception of and , none of them mani- 
 fested much interest in anything we talked about. I 
 think these two try to get their lessons ; and they are 
 a comfort to their poor, trembling teacher, who feels 
 that she is hardly fit to point them to the God of 
 whom she knows so little. I will try to be patient 
 with the more careless members of my class ; for 
 Christ loves to see us patient, and I am very anxious 
 to please Him. 
 
 Now I will read " Dick on a Future State " : that 
 is one of Frank's favourite books, and I am sure that 
 I shall like it. 
 
 Tuesday evening. I have been reading James's 
 *' Anxious Inquirer ; " and there is a passage in it so 
 extremely well-suited to my case that I will copy it : 
 " Many inquirers seem to have no hope or expectation 
 of good but in connection with means. If they are
 
 4 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 cut off from sermons, even occasionally ; or have not 
 precisely the same number and kind of ordinances as 
 usual ; they are gloomy and desponding, fretful and 
 peevish" (just as I was inclined to be on Sunday 
 night because I could not go to church) : " and hence 
 do not only get no good, but much harm, by their un- 
 belief and bad temper." The author says we must 
 first know, then feel, then act. He says that a " new 
 heart " means a " new and holy disposition.'' 
 
 September 10. I have been reading that same 
 good book again ; and when I finished it, I knelt 
 down and prayed earnestly to God to give me faith 
 to give me everything ; for I have not one good thing 
 to start with. 
 
 I know that God will answer my prayers if I have 
 faith : but must not He give me that ? How can I 
 get it for myself? And yet, I am afraid I have more 
 than I admit. If I thought there was no hope for me, 
 I should probably lose my reason ; and yet, when I 
 half know that I am saved, I doubt God still ! Oh, 
 what patience must be in His heart ! 
 
 September 11. Last evening I went to class- 
 meeting, and told the kind Christian people that I 
 wanted to be good. I was very much frightened 
 before I began to speak. My heart beat until 
 I seemed to feel it leaping against my side ; but 
 strength was given me to declare in public my 
 determination to seek for a true life henceforth. To
 
 "7 FORGOT MY WEAKNESS." 49 
 
 do this, I thought reasonable and my duty. I have 
 been educated to believe that one must come out 
 boldly " on the Lord's side " in this world, where those 
 who are on Satan's side make no secret of that fact. 
 So, to me it was a necessity to make this public 
 announcement of my purposes. When I had done so, 
 my heart, that had fluttered so painfully, became 
 suddenly quiet. The hurricane that had swept over 
 me was past ; and I felt so queer, so still. 
 
 After that, I did not think about the people who 
 were all around me. The honest, earnest words of 
 Mr. R, the leader of the meeting, were unheeded for 
 awhile. I thought I saw a bright place far up in the 
 sky ; and in it shone a star. I felt sure that God was 
 up there : I forgot my weakness, my sins, my dark- 
 ness ; I thought only of Jesus Christ, the Saviour of 
 the world my Saviour ; and I clung to Him. Perhaps 
 I was converted then ? . . . . 
 
 September 1 5. I have been thinking of my Sabbath- 
 school class, and studying the lesson which, in my 
 weakness, I am to explain to them to-morrow. It 
 has worried me to remember how thoughtless some 
 of them are ; so much so that they do not even bring 
 their Bibles to the class, nor seem to appreciate any- 
 thing. But I see that I have sometimes judged them 
 harshly. Doubtless, none of them is worse than I 
 was at her age ; and some of them are much better. 
 But even if they were a great deal worse than they 
 
 D
 
 50 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 are, I ought to remember how patient God has always 
 been with me ; though in His sight very wicked, and 
 forgetful of what I owe to Him. 
 
 Sabbath morning. The day is bright and beautiful, 
 as " the holiest of the seven " would naturally be. I 
 am going to God's house, where I will pray that I 
 may worship Him " in spirit and in truth." 
 
 September 18. To-day I have been reading in 
 Smiles' " Self-Help ; " a book which stimulates me to 
 renewed earnestness in the pursuit of Tfie Good, The 
 True, and The Beautiful. I have practised my music 
 lesson three hours ; learned my lesson in German ; 
 and written a synopsis of Carlyle's " Essay on Burns " 
 in a book that F. gave me for the purpose of 
 receiving any notes or comments that I might like to 
 make upon the books I read, and which is, to me, like 
 the counting-house to the merchant, or the office to 
 the lawyer, a kind of toiling place. I know that it is 
 profitable for me to write in the nice, new book,* 
 with its gilt edges and brown morocco binding ; but 
 after all, this plain little Journal is the place where I 
 enjoy myself most truly. When I write here, I feel as 
 the business man does when he comes home from 
 town, dons his dressing-gown and slippers, and talks 
 
 * It is to be regretted that we are unable to give to the reader speci- 
 mens of the racy, piquant style of Mary's comments upon the books 
 that she read, owing to the fact that the book above referred to has 
 mysteriously disappeared during the compilation of these Extracts from 
 her Journal.
 
 A SCHOLAR'S PROMISE. 5 1 
 
 of pleasant matters with his family, forgetful of the 
 day's labours and cares. 
 
 [Here follows a pledge written in the Journal and 
 given to Mary by a member of her Sabbath-school 
 class one to whose considerate behaviour she owed 
 much of the pleasure which she felt in acting as its 
 teacher, and who attributes her awakening and 
 determination to lead a new life to the earnest 
 appeals made to her by Mary.] 
 
 " September 19, 1860. This is the diary of my dear 
 friend and Sabbath-school teacher, Miss Mary E. 
 W , to whom I make the following promise : 
 
 I will read my Bible and pray every night before I 
 lie down to sleep, from this time forward as long as I 
 live. And in Sabbath-school I will try to set a good 
 example to the other scholars." " ELLA J ." 
 
 Below this Mary has written : 
 
 " These things my dear Ella promises not in her 
 own strength, but in that of our kind Father who is in 
 heaven." 
 
 Thursday evening, September 20. To-night, in 
 prayer-meeting, a strange lady, who was not at all 
 pretty, but who, I am sure, was very good, prayed in a 
 way that impressed me very much. One sentence, I 
 remember, was like this : " O Lord, we thank Thee 
 for the past; we praise Thee for the present; we trust 
 Thee for the future." 
 
 D 2
 
 52 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 What a beautiful, confident faith ! It is pleasant to 
 believe that this lady will be fair and lovely-looking 
 when we see her in heaven. 
 
 I wonder if the angels do really look down upon us, 
 as Mr. M. seems to think, judging from what he said to- 
 night in church. They sang one hymn that thrilled 
 me, as the rich tones of all those earnest men and 
 women joined in one 
 
 " We're marching through Immanuel's ground 
 To fairer worlds on high." 
 
 There is something which inspires me in that word 
 " marching." A band of faithful Christians marching 
 up to God, to receive a crown of everlasting life from 
 Him! To each of us the time is coming when there will 
 be no more probation no more opportunities given 
 to "try again ;" when God will say that He has waited 
 long enough ; has given us light enough ; has had 
 patience enough : " IT IS FINISHED." 
 
 September 22. I have been reading Burke's "Essay 
 on the Sublime and Beautiful." He says that the 
 idea of beauty includes diminutiveness, smoothness, 
 variety (where one thing melts into another), and 
 weakness. That we love objects which are beautiful ; 
 hence we love these concomitants of beauty. The 
 persons who creep into our hearts, and are most 
 fondly cherished, are not those who possess unusual 
 strength either of mind or of body ; for, though we 
 may admire, we do not instinctively love such as
 
 "A GOLDEN MEAN." 53 
 
 those last named. In the first place Everything that 
 we love we connect in our minds, if not by our words, 
 with the idea of smallness. The word " Darling," our 
 most sacred term of endearment, means " little dear." 
 Secondly Beautiful objects are not rough and 
 angular. We have smooth leaves and flowers. We 
 are pleased by the sight of a smooth, unmarred 
 complexion, etc. Thirdly explains itself. Fourthly 
 Modesty and timidity add to the idea of beauty, as 
 they flatter another by the feeling of being looked up 
 to and honoured. Fifthly Beauty dependent is 
 enhanced in its charms. Persons who are self-reliant 
 and self-sufficient are rendered by those qualities un- 
 lovely. 
 
 Which now, for a girl like me, is most desirable ? 
 It seems to my judgment that " a golden mean " 
 between self-confidence and self-distrust is more 
 admirable than either of the extremes. This I will 
 seek. 
 
 Memorandum. When I am rich, buy for myself a 
 velvet dress of the same colour as the jelly that was 
 on the tea-table this evening. 
 
 Sabbath Day. In Sabbath-school, Mr. M. made an 
 interesting little speech to the children. He is a 
 theological student, who will leave Evanston in a few 
 days for India. He goes as a missionary. I am not 
 personally acquainted with him ; but I cannot help 
 respecting and liking him for his courage and
 
 54 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 self-sacrificing spirit. He told the children that he 
 " was going away over the sea to tell the poor, ignorant 
 people there about everybody's best friend, Jesus 
 Christ." Should I be strong enough to make a 
 sacrifice like this? Ought I to be willing to go to 
 India ? 
 
 " Later. Mr. M. came home with Oliver to dinner. 
 He has just said " Good-bye " to us and gone. Frank 
 and I gave him a bunch of heliotrope and arbor vitae ; 
 and he said that he would keep them always. 
 
 September 25. I have just come from a meeting 
 held in the church this morning on account of Mr. M. 
 Dr. Dempster spoke briefly to the audience ; and Mr. M. 
 said a few touching, farewell words. Then Miss K. 
 played the "accompaniment," while four gentlemen 
 sang that solemn missionary chant : 
 
 " My soul is not at rest ; 
 
 There comes a strange and secret whisper to my spirit, 
 Like a dream of night, that tells me I am on enchanted ground. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 " The voice of my departed Lord, ' Go, teach all nations ! ' 
 Comes on the night-wind and awakes my fears ! 
 
 " Why live I here ? The vows of God are on me ; and I may 
 Not stop to play with shadows, or pluck earthly flowers, 
 Till I my work have done, and rendered up account. 
 
 " And I will go ; I may no longer doubt, 
 To give up friends, and idle hopes, 
 And every tie that binds my heart to thee, my country.
 
 THE MISSIONARY FAREWELL. 55 
 
 " Henceforth it matters not if storm or sunshine be my earthly lot; 
 Bitter or sweet my cup, I only pray 
 ' God make me pure, ana nerve my soul 
 For the stern hour of strife.' 
 
 " And when I come to stretch me for the last, 
 In unattended agony, 
 
 Beneath the cocoa's shade, it will be sweet 
 That I have toiled for other worlds than this. 
 
 ' ' And if one for whom Satan hath struggled as he hath for me 
 Should ever reach that blessed shore, 
 Oh, how this heart will glow with gratitude and love ! 
 
 Last Chorus. 
 
 " Through ages of eternal years my spirit never shall repent 
 That toil and suffering once were mine below." 
 
 I know that Mr. M. liked this ; and that he will be 
 strengthened by the memory of it when he is away 
 over the sea, and we are all going on as before. 
 
 I went to the dep6t, in the long procession, to see 
 him off. We all stood on the platform, singing 
 
 ' From Greenland's icy mountains,' 
 
 as the train from the city came steaming in. I could 
 hear Mr. W.'s clear voice above the noise of cars and 
 engine. Mr. M. sprang into the nearest car. He 
 threw up a window, and put out his hand. Many 
 friendly hands were thrust eagerly forward to grasp 
 it I looked at him earnestly, for I knew that I 
 should never see his face again ; and he looked up 
 and bowed. The whistle sounded ; the train moved 
 off : and while we waved our handkerchiefs, and the
 
 5 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 gentlemen waved their hats, we all sang, with tears in 
 our eyes, or in our voices, the last verse of that 
 glorious hymn : 
 
 " Waft, waft, ye winds, His story ; 
 
 And you, ye waters, roll : 
 Till, like a sea of glory, 
 
 It spreads from pole to pole ! " 
 
 Though I do not know Mr. M., I will pray that he 
 may reach India in safety that he may do good on 
 earth and be saved in heaven. 
 
 September 30. While reading Dr. Dick "On a 
 Future State " to-night, a funny idea came into my 
 head ; though I am almost ashamed of that word in 
 connection with such a book. But the idea was just 
 this : that we live on one of the smallest worlds in the 
 universe ; and that we are in some respects the silliest 
 creatures that it contains. Think of it ! Little Prince 
 Albert Edward, simply because he will probably at 
 some future time be ruler over a small bit of the 
 northern part of one of God's smallest worlds, receives 
 more homage from a majority of the people than God 
 Himself; who not only rules all worlds, but made 
 them out of nothing, and gave to the young Prince of 
 Wales his life, which, whenever He sees fit, He will 
 take away from him. 
 
 "What shadows we are, and what shadows we pursue ! " 
 
 October 2. Mr. V., our Sabbath-school Superinten- 
 dent, called last evening. He talked to me very
 
 AN UNREALIZED ANTICIPATION. 57 
 
 kindly about the life which Christians lead. I think 
 he acts as one who is to be a minister should act ; in- 
 troducing the subject of religion in a friendly, 
 unhackneyed way, speaking of it as he would of any 
 other that was of great interest to us all. I know 
 very few young gentlemen, however religious they 
 may be, who speak of God or of our duty to Him 
 when they are talking with their lady friends. I 
 wonder if they are so much mistaken as to think that 
 we are too trifling to listen to anything beyond the 
 idle gossip of the day ? . . . . 
 
 And now my little book is filled. It has afforded 
 me much pleasure to write here my thoughts. 
 
 I shall keep this Journal and read it with tearful 
 eyes, perhaps when I am old.
 
 ** The blessings of her quiet life 
 
 Fell on us like the dew ; 
 And good thoughts, where her footsteps pressed, 
 
 Like fairy blossoms grew. 
 " Sweet promptings unto kindest deeds 
 
 Were in her very look ; 
 We read her face as one who reads 
 A pure and holy book. " 
 
 WHITTIER. 
 
 AFTER completing her course of study, Mary 
 lived quietly at home for two years before she 
 went away 
 
 "Unto that school 
 
 Where she no longer needs our poor protection, 
 And Christ Himself doth rule." 
 
 These years were the richest of her life. The progress 
 that she made in them was matter for surprise. 
 Perceptions multiplied ; everything had a message for 
 her to which she listened eagerly ; nothing was trivial, 
 nothing was tame. Her scope widened, almost per- 
 ceptibly, with each added day. 
 
 Existence was a rare, exhilarating draught. She 
 recognized the wonderful and loving Father as hold- 
 ing the chalice to her lips ; and, while she drank, 
 she raised her eyes to Him in sweet thanksgiving. 
 She had her father's and her mother's tenderest care ; 
 the companionship of studious minds ; free access to-
 
 AT QBE RUN. 59 
 
 the best books ; Nature, whose loving pupil she had 
 always been, to sing her Te Deum Laudamus in her 
 hearing to spread out the lake with its hue of steel and 
 the mysterious suggestions of its murmuring waves 
 to arch the firmame'nt above her to shelter her among 
 trees to strew her path with flowers. And more than 
 this, these years were spent in one of the loveliest of 
 villages, where Minerva presides as tutelary divinity ; 
 where, instead of the usual noise of hammer and 
 of saw, denoting the industry of which our country is 
 so justly proud, the hourly bell, summoning students to 
 their recitation room, is the most familiar sound. 
 
 Three literary Institutions in successful operation 
 give to the village its character, and attract to it an 
 unusually refined society. Such enthusiasm in the 
 pursuit of knowledge such love for truth and devo- 
 tion to progress, as are always found in educational 
 centres could not fail to influence strongly a nature 
 so receptive and assimilative in its genius as Mary's. 
 Perhaps she needed less than many do the influence 
 of the deep, religious sentiment found here ; yet even 
 she could but be stronger for its effect upon her sensi- 
 bilities. For here, on every side, men good and noble 
 speak eloquently in favour of the truth as it is in Christ 
 Jesus our Lord. Men of commanding influence and 
 liberal culture lead before us lives of childlike simpli- 
 city and purity ; perform noble charities ; and encour- 
 age every enterprise that is intended to help forward 
 the interests of humanity.
 
 <JO NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 These beautiful influences could hardly have been 
 brought to bear upon one more sensitive to them 
 than Mary. Each pure and noble life pleaded with 
 her, not vainly, to seek for nobleness and purity in 
 her own ; every kindly, generous deed made her 
 emulous of like action in her more limited circle of 
 influence. And thus she grew constantly in beauty 
 and richness of life. I know that whatever is lovely, 
 and true, and of good report, was very much in her 
 thoughts. And oh, in a world where there is much 
 that hurts us much that discourages and saddens 
 how refreshing and sweet is the memory of this 
 kindly life that was lived among us ; of the pleasant 
 words that were spoken ; the genial manner which 
 made it a happy thing to sit by this young girl's side, 
 to look into her sunny face and listen to her voice ! 
 For she never was harsh or unkind ; she was so sensi- 
 tive herself that she never wounded others. She had 
 none of that bluntness, mistaken by some for candour ; 
 none of that coldness, affected by some through pride, 
 which wounds when balm is needed ; which pains 
 when the cry is for peace. 
 
 One of her favourite rules of action she expressed 
 thus : " I try not to ' hurt ' people : I try to remember, 
 even in trifles, what will be kindest and pleasantest for 
 them ; and thus I plead with them to be careful of 
 me in return ; to be considerate, and not to wound me. 
 Though, for Christ's sake, I think I should act in the 
 same way independent of this motive."
 
 AIMS AND PURPOSES. 6 1 
 
 As fully as so much can be expressed in a few 
 words, her aims during these years were to grow 
 in the knowledge and love of God, and in obedience 
 toward Him ; always this above everything else, and 
 through all other aims : to help others to be good 
 and happy ; to lighten her mother's cares ; to cheer 
 and amuse her father after business hours with music, 
 song, and well-told story of the day's experiences : to 
 be faithful as a Sabbath-school teacher ; diligent in 
 preparing the lesson for the week ; prayerful for each 
 member of her class ; kind and earnest in her coun- 
 sels ; consistent in her example : to be obliging and 
 thoughtful of the comfort and happiness of every one 
 with whom she had to do ; to neglect none of her 
 duties as a member of the Church or of society ; to 
 grow wiser in all those things which make one more 
 accurate in judgment, more cultured in intellect, more 
 tolerant in spirit, more appreciative of whatever is 
 beautiful and good ; to learn something of those 
 accomplishments which adorn and heighten the more 
 solid acquirements of a young lady. 
 
 These purposes perhaps we might more justly say 
 these instincts of life, in no respect overstated, will 
 surely bear a favourable comparison with those 
 usually cherished by young ladies in our day, and 
 are worthy of a moment's serious reflection from any 
 one who reads this page. Pause a moment, fair- 
 faced friend, and compare with your own these 
 ambitions of a merry-hearted girl, rendered repentant 
 by no great sin, chastened by no great grief.
 
 <52 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 To the unconscious portrayal of her own character 
 we will now leave her, carefully avoiding any betrayal 
 of our sacred trust as a compiler, but certain that the 
 charming simplicity of her style and the freshness 01 
 her thoughts will be more pleasant to our readers 
 than any extended analysis of her qualities or 
 description of her life. 
 
 October 3, 1860. This winter, then, I am to spend 
 at home. My brother and sister are going away to 
 teach to be of use in the world. I have sometimes 
 read in books, and once or twice I have heard persons 
 say, that in wealthy and fashionable society a teacher 
 is looked down upon. I cannot understand this. 
 Surely God sent us into the world to work for Him 
 in whatever way He should appoint. It makes me 
 proud that O. and F. are doing this. I should like to 
 be of use as well as they ; but I am to wait for awhile 
 yet. It is all right, no doubt ; I am too young to 
 go away, so father says. I ought to be very thankful 
 that I have such kind friends to take care of me here; 
 and I will try to improve my time, praying that it 
 may be improved for eternity. 
 
 Our friends from the East did not arrive to-night, 
 as we had expected ; as will not a great many things 
 in our lifetime ; so we so / should begin to bear 
 disappointments with fortitude. Rain is falling on 
 the autumn leaves as I write, and the clouds look 
 gloomy ; but the heart can have its sunshine all the
 
 A THEORY. 63 
 
 same, if it tries. Well, I will try to have a happy 
 heart. 
 
 October 4. Our friends have come. Aunt B. I had 
 not seen for ten years until this morning. She is a 
 gentle-looking lady. She has had a toilsome life ; 
 just as we all must have if we wish to develop 
 beautiful characters. 
 
 I advanced a theory to father last night which I 
 had not thought much about then, but which I am 
 half-inclined to believe, viz. : It is better not to form 
 particular attachments, but to love everybody in a 
 general sort of way. The greatest task of an 
 affectionate person's life is holding on to his heart ; 
 for it is a whimsical organ, and sometimes, before its 
 owner is aware, it has run away from him without so 
 much as saying " By your leave ;" and then it must 
 be taken into custody, and punished with many 
 stripes, so that it will remember to stay in next time. 
 
 But there is an argument on the other side that, 
 until reading an essay of Emerson's recently, I had 
 never thought much about, i.e., that personal affinities 
 are the rounds of the ladder which leads up to God. 
 We love the divine in certain characters ; and, 
 separating it from the taint of the human, we are 
 drawn toward the sun of beauty and perfectness, from 
 which these manifestations in our friends are only 
 stray rays. I rather doubt this last, though I cannot 
 quite tell yet. One thing is certain : God has told us to
 
 64 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 love everybody as we love ourselves (that is, I 
 suppose, do by everybody as our conscience tells us 
 we should think ought to be done by us under similar 
 circumstances). I am sure I would like to do this ; 
 and I think I can if I am helped. 
 
 Father has gone to the depot to meet Aunt C. 
 I am very eager to see her, and do not wait with 
 much patience. I like change. This is the reason that 
 I go to parties with such a cheerful, willing heart ; 
 while though O. and F. go too, it is not because they 
 would not prefer to stay at home. This shows, 
 perhaps, that I have not what my father calls 
 " resources " in my own mind for enjoyment. But I 
 comfort myself by reflecting that I am " ower young " 
 yet ; and if I study, as I will, some day I shall have 
 " resources " like the other wise people. It is, I must 
 acknowledge, a source of much embarrassment to me 
 to talk with persons whose knowledge could easily 
 swallow up a hundred " knowledges " like mine ; but 
 since this is not my fault, I guess it is foolish to fret 
 about the matter so I won't. 
 
 October 7. I went to the city yesterday. While I 
 was carelessly riding on the swift train (which, 
 though we are all so used to it, is none the less not 
 without danger), God took care of me, and did not let 
 any harm come to me. So I rode home from the 
 thoughtless city, while the beautiful sunset flamed 
 along the sky ; and I was very glad to see the
 
 ' 
 
 
 
 icr has gone 
 very eager to st 
 ce. I lil- 
 
 not w 
 
 mind f. 
 
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 :t ; ar , as I w 
 
 resou: e the other v. is, ] tnust 
 
 hundi 
 
 at to 
 
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 .
 
 MISS FRANCES E. WILLARD, i 
 From Photo by Miss Alice Hughes, 52, Cower St., London, W.C.
 
 PATIENT ENDURANCE. 6$ 
 
 dear old place even after so brief an absence as 
 one day. 
 
 Uncle W. is quite sick to-day, and I am very 
 sorry. It reminds me that I must be sick sometime 
 when I shall not get better ; that there will come a 
 day in which I must die. O God, help me to prepare 
 for the wonderful change that every hour brings nearer 
 to me ! 
 
 I am happy ; and it is not strange, for these 
 beautiful autumn days seem as if they had come 
 down from heaven. 
 
 October 8. Aunt C. has come. She is a splendid 
 lady. She has had so much trouble that her voice 
 is always sad ; but it is very sweet. She seems so 
 gentle and so meek, that she inspires love and 
 sympathy in every one who knows her. But her 
 meekness is not the dogged kind that makes one 
 submit because he must ; nor the silly kind, that 
 shows a person too weak to resist : it is a patient, 
 Christ-like endurance of suffering. And all the time 
 she tries to be cheerful, and smiles in her sad way. 
 Here are some verses which she repeated to me this 
 evening in a voice so mournful that I almost cried : 
 
 " I wear a rose in my hair, although I feel like a weed ; 
 
 Who knows that the rose is thorny, and makes my temples bleed ? 
 If one but reaches his journey's end, what matter how galled the steed f 
 
 " I gloss my face with laughter because I cannot be calm ; 
 
 When you listen to the organ do you hear the words of the psalm ? 
 If they give you poison to drink t is better to call it balm. 
 

 
 66 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 " Though I scatter gold like a goblin, my life may yet be poor ; 
 Can love come in at the window when money stands at the door ? 
 I am what I appear to men need I be anything more ? 
 
 " God sees from the high blue heaven He sees the grape in the 
 
 flower ; 
 
 He hears the life-blood dripping in the maddest, merriest hour ; 
 He knows what sackcloth and ashes lie hid in the purple of power. 
 
 " The broken wing of the sparrow He binds in mid-air ; 
 
 I am not what I shall be in heaven ; then, soul, no more despair ! 
 Remember the lowly Jesus, and wipe His feet with thy hair. " 
 
 To-day I called on Mrs. B., the "good Sa- 
 maritan " of our village. She asked me how I suc- 
 ceeded in trying to be a Christian, just in the same 
 happy, every-day voice in which she told me she was 
 glad that I had come ; and so she did not frighten 
 me a bit. I should not mind it if I were always 
 spoken to in this way ; but I am greatly distressed in 
 my heart when any one a minister, for instance 
 comes up to me and says, in a constrained and hollow 
 voice, without one prefatory word, " Well, my young 
 friend, I should like to inquire concerning the present 
 condition of your precious soul." I hope it is not 
 wrong in me to say that I think harm is sometimes 
 done by speaking of religion in such a stupid 
 manner. I have been reading to-day about Cranmer, 
 Latimer, and Ridley, who sacrificed all, even their 
 lives, for their religion. Ah, there must be something 
 supernatural in the spirit that they showed. 
 
 A To-day I ran in to see - a minute ; and 
 she said something to me carelessly that hurt me very
 
 ANALOGIES OF LIFE. 6? 
 
 much. But I only laughed, and made a trifling 
 remark to conceal my true feelings and the wound 
 that she had given me ; so she will never know what 
 she has done. The world will say hard things to us 
 all the way through our journey to the grave. Some- 
 times this will be done thoughtlessly ; sometimes 
 intentionally : in any case, it is well to be prepared 
 for the blows that we shall certainly receive. 
 
 Evening Just at twilight I went walking down 
 on the lake shore with my pleasant aunt. We talked 
 awhile about my cousins, of whom I know so little ; 
 and then she wandered away from me searching for 
 curious stones. I laid my cheek on the cold pebbles, 
 and while the waves came rippling close to my face, I 
 thought how little difference it would make to the 
 world or to the murmuring lake if I were dead. I 
 tossed the wee stones at my side into the air, or 
 "' skipped " them along the water, as if I were a child 
 instead of a young woman of seventeen whole years. 
 By-and-by my aunt came back ; and we walked to 
 our home among the trees near by ; and she did not 
 know what had been going on in my foolish heart 
 down by the mystical waves. 
 
 i8t/i. It seems to me that our life has analogies 
 with a religious gathering known as a " camp meet- 
 ing." If we attend a meeting of this kind we must 
 have a tent, some sort of a bed, cooking utensils, and 
 food We must work a little to prepare our meals, etc.; 
 
 E 2
 
 68 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 but this is not the object for which we have 
 assembled. It is of no use for us to go merely to 
 take care of our tent We must attend the religious 
 services we must sing and pray we must try to do, 
 and to get, good. Neither were we sent into this 
 world to have our time and our thoughts entirely 
 occupied with " getting a living " ; but in order that 
 we might prepare for eternity lay up treasures in 
 heaven. And yet we do not remember this. Some 
 strive for one object ; some for another : but each 
 seems anxious that he may rise above his fellow- 
 beings, so that he may look down upon them ; for- 
 getting that God looks down from high heaven upon 
 us all, and that in His sight one is better than 
 another only as he is more loyal to Him. 
 
 Very soon I am to receive the ordinance of 
 baptism. I look forward to the time almost with 
 dread ; for I am naturally timid : and to perform an 
 act so public will be repugnant to my feelings. I do- 
 not shrink from it because it is a religious act ; for as 
 such it is the last thing of which to be ashamed, and 
 the first of which to be proud. Christ will surely help 
 me through with it ; and 1 am glad that, though at a 
 sacrifice of natural delicacy, I can show to those who 
 know me that I wish in all things to be led by Him. 
 
 The weather is rather mournful to-day. The leaves 
 are dying; and the acorns rattle along the root 
 down to the ground a place contrasting strangely 
 with their former high position ; like rich folks who-
 
 WORK TO DO. 69 
 
 get poor : though they still more resemble smart pool 
 folks, who, by sundry availing exertions, though they 
 lie down for awhile, are afterward seen going up in 
 the world ; just as the acorns will grow up toward the 
 sky again, if they improve their opportunities. The 
 lake tosses uneasily in its great cradle ; while the stars 
 for it is evening now wink and blink up there in 
 the heavens in a most indifferent manner, as well 
 they may, since they have nothing in the world to 
 vex them they and I. 
 
 Why was I a figure in the problem of life ? In- 
 deed, am I a figure at all, or only a cipher placed 
 thus: 0123, so that I make the "answer" neither 
 more nor less ? Oh, I know better than that ! God 
 has work for me to do "even me" 
 
 My friend Mattie has been telling me of the luxury 
 in which an acquaintance of hers lives. Why, she 
 does not work a bit ; no, nor even puts on her 
 shoe. When she goes from room to room, tossing 
 things about, as is her custom, a servant follows her 
 and quietly re-arranges them. Her study is to look 
 pretty all the time. She laughs a great deal (very 
 sweetly, to be sure), because she does not know how 
 to talk. She knows hardly anything ; never reads, 
 and cannot bear books ; does not like to be left alone, 
 because she has no beautiful thoughts with which to 
 entertain herself. She can speak French a little ; can 
 play a few pieces on the piano and that is all ; except 
 that she is an elegant dancer.
 
 7O NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 While Mattie was telling me about this girl, I (and 
 I am not rich, and have no servant to wait upon me) 
 pitied, rather than envied, the petted child of Fortune. 
 How much finer it is to sit in my little plain room, 
 beside a good fire, with some wise book in my hand, 
 than to be straightened up in the parlour talking fool- 
 ishness to " (h)airy nothings." A fig for her elegance 
 and wealth without knowledge, intelligence, or even 
 one serious thought! "God pity such people!" say I. 
 
 (It is October, but what day of the month I do 
 not know, and it makes very little difference.) I have 
 been reminded to-day of the great compensating 
 system in this world (Emerson, I think, has set forth 
 the idea in an " exhaustive " manner), without which I 
 do not see how we could " get on." I have observed 
 that, as a general thing, homely people are talented, 
 and handsome ones are stupid ; that the rich have 
 ease, and the "moderate" class have knowledge all 
 of which seems highly just and proper. As I sit here 
 writing by lamplight, the sun is over on the other side 
 of the world, and the merry Chinese are hopping and 
 skipping, working and cheating, with his burning face 
 looking down upon them. But to-morrow he will 
 turn to us again ; and they will clatter off to bed in 
 their queer little shoes. 
 
 Sabbath Day, 2^>th of October. As I was coming 
 out of church this morning, Mary B. whispered, " Do 
 you know that Mrs. S. is dead?" I felt so strange
 
 THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. 7 1 
 
 when she said it as if something had struck me in 
 the face. I did not know Mrs. S. very well ; the 
 tidings did not hurt my heart ; but I knew that death 
 had been among us that was enough. One more 
 soul before its God ; one more grave in " Rose Hill" ; 
 one more heart-broken orphan ! Philosophers may 
 speculate upon the Future that awaits us ; but they 
 know very little, and only confuse us by their con- 
 flicting theories. Of all that go the timid, and the 
 fearless none come back to tell us anything ; though 
 I am sure that many would if it were possible. We 
 can solve the problem for ourselves : we must solve 
 it, whether we will or not. This then shall be the 
 object of my life : to grow rich in love and faith 
 toward God to prepare my soul for the great trial 
 that is surely coming. 
 
 November 7. Very soon we shall know who is the 
 new President of " these United States." I hope that 
 it is honest Abraham Lincoln : and if it had been the 
 fashion 1 would have voted for him ; which fact, 
 could he but know it, would doubtless be a balm to 
 his wounded spirit in case it proves that the lordly 
 portion of creation have not elected him. 
 
 I took for my music-lesson to-day one of Beethoven's 
 grand compositions. A man with music in his soul 
 is, in some sense, a stray angel, wandering among us 
 poor benighted ones. 
 
 November 22. The first snow is falling. Why
 
 72 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 have I been sitting here with my hands folded for this 
 long time ? What have I been thinking about ; and 
 will nothing break this painful stillness? I have 
 " practised the scales" until my fingers are tired ; and 
 I have looked at the piano-keys until they seem 
 like great teeth grinning at me. Somehow I do not 
 feel well. 
 
 November 29. This is the day set apart for public 
 thanksgiving to God. I like the custom. It is 
 pleasant to know that thousands of grateful hearts are 
 sending praise to " the Father there above " in the 
 same breath. Sandalphon's hands must be full of 
 flowers this morning.* 
 
 Christmas is on its way to all the world. We do 
 not think very much about the real significance of 
 this beautiful season, I am afraid. Parents ought 
 to teach their children that Christmas means some- 
 thing more than the coming of Santa Claus, 
 and overflowing stockings in the chimney 
 corner. For little children with their unstained 
 hearts find it very easy to receive Heaven's choicest 
 Gift to man. 
 
 January 8, 1861. A little while ago Frank came in 
 
 * The Rabbinical legends in the Talmud state that SANDALPHON is 
 the "Angel of Prayer " who gathers up the prayers of mortals and 
 transmutes them into garlands of flowers. See Longfellow's poem, 
 " Sandalphon."
 
 THE PASTOR'S DEATH. 73 
 
 and said: "Have you heard of Mr. B.* since I went 
 out ? " We told her we had not. She had a very serious 
 look, but only said : " What are you prepared to hear ?" 
 Mother, in her calm, collected way, answered ; " I am 
 prepared to hear that he is dead." I dreaded to have 
 Frank speak again. She knows how sensitive I am 
 to everything connected with that mysterious change 
 which awaits us : so she hesitated a moment before 
 she murmured : " Yes, he is dead." I felt curious and 
 heavy. I leaned back on the cushion of the lounge. I 
 wrote "Dead " upon a piece of paper that I held in 
 my hand. Then came strange thoughts of the 
 whitened face on which our pastor's wife and 
 daughters are gazing now, with grief of which we can 
 have no conception ; of the spirit that we shall never 
 see looking out from his kindly eyes again. I thought 
 of him as having gone up somewhere ; but all was 
 shadowy to my poor earthy sense. Perhaps he sees 
 the angels ! Perhaps he has strange, penetrating eyes, 
 and can look upon both worlds the earthly and the 
 heavenly ! Perhaps a thousand things that we know 
 nothing about, for all is dark to us down here all 
 except Christ ; but He is very near, and very certain, 
 and very manifest to those who love Him ! 
 
 Jamtary 20. I called on Mary B. to-day. Her 
 pale, sad face, tells how full of grief she is, now that 
 
 * Rev. C. P. Bragdon was our pastor at the time. He ha been ill 
 for several weeks.
 
 74 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 her father is dead. Her occasional smile is put 0:1 
 only for generosity's sake, I am sure ; it does not 
 ripple up from her heart to her lips, caused by some 
 pleasing thought thrown in ; as the brook ripples 
 around the stone cast into its sunny waters. All the 
 stars in her poor heart have set ; for she says in this 
 great sorrow the hopes she used to cherish are 
 forgotten. Oh, I will try to cheer her up, all that I 
 can. I will be a good friend to her. There are not 
 many to whom I can be a comforter ; for our little 
 village has but few sad hearts that I know about, at 
 least. I will set pretty flowers on Mary's pathway,, 
 now that she is too weary and heart-broken to do it 
 for herself ; and I who have no grief, whose faith in 
 God has had no test as yet, who am not blinded to- 
 His love by some dark Providence will tell her 
 there is light, for I can see it ; that His arm is. 
 stretched out to sustain her ; that she will please both 
 of her Fathers in heaven by laying a trustful, loving 
 hand on that great arm which holds the world. 
 
 February 2. I do not like the habit so common 
 among school-girls of telling all one's private affairs, 
 to some " dear familiar friend." If such things must 
 be told, the home-folks are the proper confidants ; 
 but I think that if a " special regard " for a " particular 
 individual " should befal me and if I felt that I 
 must in some way find relief for my burdened spirit 
 I should take just one person aside, and after extorting;
 
 ANOTHER "DIARY" 1 VOLUME. 75 
 
 solemn promises of secrecy, I should relate the fact as 
 clearly and concisely as possible ; and the person 
 whom I should select would be my highly esteemed 
 friend, " Ego ipsa." 
 
 With this astute assertion we close our extracts 
 from the first volume of Mary's " Diary." It is, in 
 all respects, a characteristic book. The girlish 
 autograph on the fly-leaf; the odd caricatures put in 
 at random among the entries ; the little sketches of 
 articles of furniture or apparel ; of a ring on a friend's 
 finger ; of herself suffering from toothache, and with 
 swollen cheek and closed eye ; the quotations from 
 books that she was reading, scattered here and there 
 throughout its pages ; and the frequent hieroglyphics, 
 whose meaning few can decipher all serve to illus- 
 trate the peculiar, many-sided character of the girl ; 
 and for this reason we refer to them. 
 
 The second volume of her Diary, written after she 
 left school, and having for its first date February 16, 
 1 86 1, is, in its execution, superior to its predecessor, 
 and was evidently written with more care. In a clear, 
 careful hand is written on the first page, 
 "TALKS WITH MYSELF." 
 
 and this passage from the Psalms : 
 
 " 13e of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart; 
 all ye that hope in the Lord." 
 
 February 17. Frank has gone with Mary to the city 
 to-day : and I am alone in our pleasant room ; a plain
 
 76 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 little place, but more to me than all the house besides, 
 or all the houses in the town. It is odd, perhaps, but 
 I feel a peculiar friendliness for every piece of furniture 
 that it contains. 
 
 Mary played the prettiest " piece " last night that 
 I have ever heard. It made me feel so queer : it met 
 my expectations, and, for the moment, I was satisfied. 
 Beautiful music intoxicates me as wine might. It 
 makes me feel as if there were nothing that I could 
 not do. 
 
 P.M. The girls have come home again. From 
 their talk I should think that they had a fine time ; 
 for they saw that wonderful painting, " The Heart of 
 the Andes." How beautiful it must seem to come in 
 from the cold, snowy street and to see the tropics 
 before you, with the brilliant birds and flowers, and 
 those great mountains towering in the distance, as 
 Frank has told me ! 
 
 February 24, Sabbath Day. This morning we had 
 one of Bishop Simpson's soul-stirring sermons. I re- 
 gard him as a holy man. When he is excited while 
 preaching, his face glows with a light which, to me, 
 seems supernatural. I think I listened to his sermon 
 attentively ; but before he commenced preaching, my 
 head was full of " out-of-place thoughts." For ex- 
 ample: I wondered what the people would do if a 
 beautiful girl should ride into church on a pretty little 
 pony, and should turn him about before the pulpit so
 
 "NOT THANKFUL ENOUGH.' 77 
 
 as to face the audience, and sit there in a pretty con- 
 templative attitude with the handle of her riding-whip 
 against her lips. I wondered if they would let her 
 stay or make her go out ; and then I thought I should 
 
 like to push back Charlie 's hair it had fallen 
 
 so far down on his forehead ; and tell Mrs. that 
 
 her collar was awry ; while all this time I sat demurely 
 in unchanged position, with my hands resting on th& 
 top of father's " Hymn and Tune Book." Well, I am 
 sorry that my thoughts wandered, for I did not intend 
 that they should ; and as soon as service commenced 
 I fixed my attention upon things good and holy. It 
 is impossible, I suppose, always to keep one's mind, 
 from wandering. 
 
 March I. Mother walked quietly up to me, a few 
 minutes ago, and took my German book out ot 
 my hands. I suppose I am hardly well enough to. 
 study ; though I am very sorry to fall behind my 
 class. 
 
 March 2. I fear I am not thankful enough for all 
 the pleasant gifts of life. O God, make me good f 
 Make me loving toward Thee all the time ! Let me 
 go forward every day ; I can never get too near to 
 Thee. Forgive me for being sometimes forgetful; 
 and oh, grant that when I am dying, I may be the- 
 happiest. 
 
 Frank and I have just come up from the sitting- 
 room, where we left father, mother, and Oliver ; the
 
 78 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 first, sitting in his easy-chair by the fire ; the second, 
 lying on the sofa, and casting many amusing remarks 
 into the conversation ; and the third, playing with 
 Frank's little dog. As we came in to tea this evening 
 and sat around the fire, talking and laughing, I 
 thought, " indeed, we are a very happy family." 
 
 I have been reading " Daisy Burns," a pleasant 
 story by Julia Kavanagh. In these lonely invalid 
 days I have owed much to devoted little Daisy ; to 
 kind, strange Cornelius ; and ready, generous Kate. 
 I have been with them for a long time, only in such a 
 way that they were not disturbed, and were away from 
 my sick self. 
 
 March 17. They have all gone to church, leaving 
 me here alone. It is cold and snowy out of doors, 
 and in my heart there is a wishful, regretful feeling 
 which I cannot explain ; but I am far from being 
 unhappy. There are not many graves of dead hopes 
 in my spiritual burying-ground, for I have had few in 
 the first place ; and in the second they have seldom 
 died ; and in the third it has hurt me but little when 
 they did. No, I do not believe in young folks making 
 sorrow for themselves. Never allow foolish fancies to 
 " put up " and take the " spare room " in your hearts, 
 my friends. It is a sad thing when one arrives at the 
 conclusion that 
 
 " This world's a wilderness of woe." 
 
 The " w's " roll in musically along the line ; but the 
 sentiment might be the chorus of misery.
 
 AN INTERRUPTION. 79 
 
 March 20. 1 have just come from the kitchen ; 
 \vhere I have been a prominent actor in the creating of 
 a cake to go toward increasing the preparations for an 
 entertainment soon to be given hereabouts. Society 
 is an institution which is rapidly becoming non-essen- 
 tial to me. One cannot make a friend of it. While 
 one is present it will treat us very well ; but if absent 
 one is soon forgotten. To be sure, there is another 
 side to the question ; what are we to society ? Sup- 
 pose that a drop, imagining itself to be ill-used, should 
 repiningly propose to separate itself from the ocean, 
 and should indignantly cast itself upon the shore 
 who would lose most, the rebellious little drop, or the 
 gray old ocean ? Let me refresh my judgment by 
 considerations such as this, lest I attach undue 
 importance to my foolish young self. 
 
 As I was quietly sewing up in my room to-day, 
 mother's voice resounded through the hall in the use 
 of these words: "Mary, come down ; I have something 
 for you." So, with much alacrity, I descended to her 
 room ; and what do you suppose she had the kindness 
 to bestow upon me ? Nothing more nor less than a 
 dose of cod liver oil ! Nothing but a dose, did I say ? 
 What could be worse, or more heart-sickening ? 
 What else gives to a person a more horrid, " all- 
 overish " feeling, than that same oil of cod's liver ? 
 Oh, may I never remember the taste of it ; never reflect 
 on the smell of it ; never more gaze on the sight of it ;
 
 80 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 and may speedy destruction seize on the rest of it, 
 there in the long yellow bottle ! 
 
 March 30. I have been reading " Life in the Iron 
 Mills," a story in a recent number of the Atlantic. It 
 is written in a strong, new style ; the thoughts are ex- 
 pressed with such earnestness, it is evident that they 
 came from the deep places of somebody's heart The 
 question with which one rises from reading the story 
 is this : Why are some high, and others low, in life ? 
 We cannot tell : it is a mystery. Yet to one who 
 trusts in God, the thought of His infinite justice 
 silences questionings ; and Faith whispers to Doubt : 
 " What I do, thou knowest not now, but thou shalt 
 know hereafter ; " and then, though the burden of life 
 is heavy and grievous to be borne, the soul can sing, 
 
 " Yea, what Thou doest, Lord, is right, 
 And thus believing, we rejoice." 
 
 April 9. John, our " hired man," has just gone 
 away. He has lived with us for years. During that 
 time he saved several hundred dollars, and now he is 
 going to be married to a girl who has " waited for 
 him." I am sorry he has gone. He has always been 
 a good servant ; and we have had no reason to speak 
 reprovingly to him in all these years. He liked us 
 very much : and the tears ran down his cheeks when 
 he came in to say good-by, and father told him to 
 " be a good boy " (though he is over thirty years old,
 
 THOUGHTS OF HEAVEN. 8 I 
 
 I am sure) ; and mother said we should remember 
 him pleasantly, he had been so faithful to us. It 
 made me sad to see him running off toward the 
 depot, tucking the " cheque " father had given him 
 into his pocket, and encumbered by his bundle and 
 umbrella. He looked back a moment and said, 
 amidst his tears, " So good-by to ye all ; and I hope 
 ye'll have good luck." As he passed beyond sight 
 among the trees, I prayed that God would bless him ; 
 and I am quite sure that the golden gates of Paradise 
 will be opened, some time, to honest, faithful John. 
 
 April 14. Dr. K. preached this morning, and I 
 was glad to hear him say he thought there is a real 
 place called heaven ; that although God is everywhere, 
 still His presence is more immediate and glorious in 
 some other world than any that we have seen. It is 
 more beautiful to me to think of golden streets, gates 
 of pearl, and the River of Life ; it is more delightful 
 to believe that real music will greet finer ears than 
 ours, and ethereal perfumes will regale a more 
 exquisite sense than we can now imagine ; that rich 
 colours and delicate tints shall be pictured upon 
 retinas almost infinitely acute ; that great clouds of 
 amber and of purple shall rise about us, and that 
 snowy wings shall sway to and fro in grand and 
 stately motion. I like to think that we shall still be 
 related to matter, though in some strange and blissful 
 way ; and that thus we may be near the friends who 
 
 K
 
 82 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 were familiar, and the scenes that were dear, when as 
 embodied spirits we lived upon the earth. This 
 abstract heaven, extending anywhere, everywhere 
 but which is little more than an idea, I do not like to 
 think about. Surely it is not wrong to try to have a 
 picture of heaven for myself, as beautiful as my fancy 
 can paint, since it affords me pleasure ? 
 
 April 14. News came yesterday of the evacuation 
 we do not like to say the surrender of Fort 
 Sumter by Major Anderson. When I think of all 
 the blood that must be shed, of all the treasure that 
 must be expended, to retrieve the honour of my 
 native land, it almost takes away my breath. Think 
 of the thousands of men, living at home and in peace 
 to-day, who must fall in the strife ! How it hurts me 
 to remember that every man of them is somebody's 
 husband or father, somebody's brother or son ; and 
 that while they yield up their lives on the battle-field, 
 the dear ones at home are many of them going to 
 meet death by a longer path, and one just as painful 
 to tread the path where mourners walk clad in their 
 sable robes. 
 
 April 20. Oliver has succeeded in getting up a 
 great war enthusiasm in the minds of his two sisters 
 this morning, by reading exciting passages from the 
 daily papers, and " interlarding " them with frenzied 
 speeches of his own. At last Frank and I broke 
 forth with one accord into singing the " Star-Spangled
 
 WAR TIMES. 83 
 
 Banner," which, by the aid of his melodious (?) voice, 
 was rendered in a style that seemed peculiarly 
 exciting to his imagination ; so much so that, when 
 we came to the chorus of the last verse, he rushed 
 into the closet for a broom, which he waved frantically 
 to and fro to symbolize to himself the fact, as I 
 suppose, that the glorious banner did yet wave " o'er 
 the land of the free and the home of the brave." 
 After various demonstrations of this kind, he fought 
 an imaginary battle with the bolster, to which he gave 
 the name of "Traitor Jeff," while we inspired him 
 with valour by singing other patriotic songs. While 
 this amusing scene transpired, I thought, with a sad 
 heart, Will my brother, my only brother, go to the 
 war ? We to whom he is so dear will try not to be 
 selfish. The country calls for help : somebody's 
 brother must go ; and why not ours ? Who are we, 
 that our hearts should not be broken as well as the 
 hearts of other women ? 
 
 April 22. These are strange times. Trains are 
 running, although it is the Sabbath. Several regi- 
 ments from Wisconsin passed through our quiet 
 village while we were in Sabbath-school. It made my 
 heart ache to think of the " Good-bye's " at home 
 among the hills and prairies of my favourite State. 
 
 April 23. This evening we went to a war meeting 
 at the church. When the " Star-Spangled Banner " 
 was sung, as I joined in the chorus I was half-wild 
 
 F 2
 
 84 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS, 
 
 with enthusiasm, though I stood there so quietly. 
 Above the pulpit hung the national flag, arranged in 
 graceful folds around a portrait of Washington, who 
 looked serenely down upon us, as if confident that we 
 would not desert a cause in which he thought no- 
 sacrifice too dear. Several speeches were made ; and 
 then there was a call for those who were willing to- 
 volunteer to come forward and sign the muster-roll.. 
 I shall never forget the scene that followed. Rapidly 
 they went ; young men whom we all know and 
 esteem ; students in college and in theology ; men* 
 who had wives and daughters looking after them with 
 smiles of pride on their lips, though there were tears 
 of sorrow in their eyes ; and beardless boys, with 
 their slight forms and flushed young faces. 
 
 Cheer after cheer went up from the excited audience,, 
 as each one took the pen and wrote his name as a 
 volunteer in the army that goes to save the Union. 
 One young man told us that he did not join here, be- 
 cause although he came only last week from a distant 
 town to enter college " he should throw books aside 
 and return home to-morrow, to go with his father and 
 his brothers to the field." Dr. M'F. was loudly 
 applauded. He said that he was a Virginian, and 
 he should start for his native State to-morrow to join 
 with his relatives, who are all loyal, in fighting for the 
 Union. He said his mother was buried there, and he 
 meant that no traitor should set his foot upon her 
 grave.
 
 FALL OF FOR 7 SUMTER. 85 
 
 I am afraid that we did not realize how solemn was 
 the scene ; how eternal destinies were being fixed 
 that evening by a mere penstroke. God pity the man 
 who is not prepared to die before he joins the army ! 
 Oh, if we could have known the agony that will result 
 from what was done then in the church we love so 
 much, and where we have worshipped so peacefully 
 together, I know we should have filled the house with 
 sobs ; and tears would have fallen like the rain that 
 beat against the windows, as though nature herself 
 \vere grieving ! 
 
 A large fund was immediately subscribed for the 
 support of the families of poor men who will go into 
 the army. The liberal subscriptions showed plainly 
 enough the patriotism which glowed in each heart. It 
 seemed very generous to hear Dr. E. give his name 
 
 for hundred dollars ; and hardly less so when 
 
 seamstresses, and young ladies who support them- 
 selves by teaching, pledged themselves for the pay- 
 ment of smaller sums. 
 
 WAR ! What a new meaning has the term for me 
 since the fall of Fort Sumter only a few days ago ! 
 Truly 
 
 *' Vv 7 e are living, we are dwelling 
 In a grand and awful time : 
 In an age on ages telling, 
 To be living is sublime ! " 
 
 April 30. The birds have come back to us. Their 
 songs remind me " of auld lang syne " ; of the spring
 
 86 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 flowers that bloomed earliest on the great bluff side 
 of the south of " Forest Home." For the birds sang 
 in this same way when I was a child, and F. was my 
 only companion. I do not believe that I shall ever be 
 much happier than I was then, when 
 
 " We went plucking purple pansics," 
 
 peeping into little birds'-nests down in the pasture, or 
 coaxing " Old Gray " with a handful of salt to submit 
 to bit and bridle, and to gallop off through the fragrant 
 clover-field with us upon her back ; when father went 
 walking with us down by the shady-banked river, or 
 we strolled " out in the orchard " with mother. Oh, 
 it was very pleasant to be a little girl ; but I am 
 " grown up " now, and must not look regretfully to the 
 merry, by-gone years. 
 
 May 4. A lovely morning for us all. When such 
 light and beauty break over the earth, may it not 
 be appropriately called a smile of God ? My heart 
 turned reverently toward "that great Heart which 
 beats for all the world," as I sat by the window this 
 morning while the household were asleep. I took up 
 the Bible with unusual pleasure. It seems to me that 
 some of these times, when I love God so well, and the 
 Bible is so pleasant, I should not be afraid to die. 
 Surely He would not cast a soul out from His presence 
 that wanted Him so much ! 
 
 May 5. IT IS DONE ! This morning, before services 
 commenced, F. and I were baptized. We made those
 
 BAPTISM. 87 
 
 solemn vows before the church and before God, to live 
 for Him henceforth. We uttered the responses as 
 though we had one voice. I know our parents and 
 our brother were glad to see us kneeling at the altar 
 as we have walked through life side by side. Our 
 pastor's hand trembled when he laid it on my head, 
 and repeated those sacred words : " I baptize thee in 
 the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the 
 Holy Ghost." Keep us, O Lord ! May we never forget 
 those vows ! May we never love any one as we love 
 Thee! 
 
 [Always, after this, among the books on Mary's table, I 
 noticed a small one containing the Baptismal Service ; and 
 very often in the evening, before kneeling to pray, she would 
 sit down and read it over. I can see the graceful, attentive 
 attitude : the brow leaning upon the hand ; the sweet and 
 thoughtful face, a moment before bright with smiles, now 
 serious as it was when she was but a child. Sometimes she 
 would look up, and say : " Frank, would you not like to 
 hear me read our promises ? "] 
 
 To resume the Journal for that day so memorable 
 to her : 
 
 I never had the feelings of which many persons 
 speak. It did not come to me just in a minute that 
 my sins were forgiven. No, it was not suddenly, but 
 gradually that things changed. I thought of God 
 with love ; the Bible seemed like a new book. I 
 tried harder to do right than ever before ; and felt 
 that / was helped. But I have never been wondrously 
 happy, as some are ; though I feel very quiet and at
 
 88 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 peace. Sometimes the pleasures of life and the love 
 of my friends*rise up like a mist between me and 
 God ; but I know that although we must expect 
 temptations, the penetrating rays of His glory and 
 love will make all clear again, if we use Faith and 
 Prayer. 
 
 Poor Irish Johnny has been "saying his A B C's" 
 to me, as usual. He seems grateful for every kind 
 word ; but especially for his " lessons," as he calls 
 them. To-day we showed him a book of engravings 
 that had pleased us very much when we were 
 children. He looked at them all, in his grave, 
 wondering way, and then said, " I must go to me 
 mother ; " and ran off downstairs. Poor little fellow ! 
 What will he do in this great, working world, I 
 wonder ? Why am I so much more blest than he ? 
 God knows. How thankful I am for such unmerited 
 kindness as He has shown to me ! I think we should 
 be very gentle with those beneath us, and very 
 considerate of their feelings. If we all looked from 
 our own positions down the scale of human life, and 
 less above us, how little complaining and regretting 
 there would be ! and we should all look up to God 
 more gratefully. 
 
 The true little dandelions are prompt to greet the 
 merry month of May. There is a vase full of them 
 on my table now, that had the kindness to grow just 
 beneath the window of our room. It seemed so
 
 THE LAST DIARY, 89 
 
 natural and spring-like to gather the little things this 
 morning, just as though they were not the first I had 
 seen since last year when Mary B. picked one from 
 Professor J.'s garden border ; and said " it was not 
 stealing ; for it was God's flower and not his." 
 
 And so I have filled another book with talk about 
 :my pleasant, pleasant days. Good-night, little friend ! 
 I will lay you away beside your predecessor, on the 
 high shelf of the book-case in our room. 
 
 [On the fly-leaf, at the end of the book, are written 
 these lines : 
 
 " A sense of an earnest will, 
 
 To help the lowly-living ; 
 And a terrible heart-thrill 
 
 If you have no power of giving ; 
 An arm of aid to the weak, 
 
 A friendly hand to the friendless ; 
 Kind words so short to speak, 
 
 But the echo of which is endless, 
 The world is wide, these things are small ; 
 They may be nothing but they are ALL. "] 
 
 And now comes the last book ; a large blue-covered 
 -volume with many white, unwritten pages in the last 
 part that will never be filled, and which she used to 
 turn over and say, carelessly, " I wonder what I shall 
 write here ? " 
 
 "What happens, and what I think about it," is 
 written on the fly-leaf, and under it her name, with 
 the words, " Aged eighteen"
 
 9O NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 May 22. Just returned from a walk, and a slight 
 study of human nature. A sharp-faced person, in a 
 rickety wagon, was driving at a furious pace an 
 invalid horse, which seemed running for the purpose 
 of trying to escape the cruel hands into which fortune 
 had thrown him. I am sorry to say the driver was a 
 woman ; sorry that I have such a sister ; sorry that 
 Eve has such a child. But I should judge her gently. 
 If I had been reared in the same way I might have 
 been like her. It puzzles me to think how many of 
 the faults that we see are the results of training, for 
 which the offenders are not responsible. Such mat- 
 ters as I cannot understand I leave with Him to whose 
 keen eye the threads of life, in our sight so sadly 
 twisted, hang in an untangled skein. Sitting by the 
 road-side I saw a little girl with a dandelion behind 
 her ear, playing with another little girl who looked 
 very much like her. Well, I did not draw any very 
 definite conclusion from them that I know of. There 
 are thousands like them ; God made them all : and 
 as each little creature was led into the world by His 
 hand, I believe He made a place for it ; and this has 
 always been a pleasant thought to me. 
 
 Mary B. saw me, and came out of her house ; and 
 we went together down to the pier. We half-closed 
 our eyes and watched the sunshine bristling on the 
 water. I laid my head in her lap, and she told me 
 about her journey East with her sick father : how 
 once she thought he would not live, and she was all
 
 "WHY WERE YOU BORN?" Ql 
 
 alone with him ; for though she had an acquaintance 
 or two on the boat, they were not what she needed 
 then. Poor Mary ! But her father is in heaven 
 now. He is not sick any more ; he sees no longer 
 "as through a glass darkly, but face to face." 
 Perhaps he can look into his daughter's heart every 
 day, and see the sorrow there. But if he does, he sees 
 also the striving for a better life that mingles with her 
 grief. Perhaps he can go right up to God, can take 
 Christ's hand in his, and reverently beseech of them 
 to bless his youngest girl. 
 
 Well, the day is wearing on ; and I think I have 
 not let it pass wholly unimproved. " Mary, why 
 were you born ? " This is a question that I cannot 
 answer yet. For something, I have no doubt : for 
 what, I cannot tell. As the closely-folded leaves of 
 the bud open steadily, but without haste so does my 
 life develop. Very soon, it seems to me, the light 
 must fall into my heart, as the sunshine into the 
 flower ; and then my mission here will be declared to 
 me. That I shall live much longer for myself alone 
 can hardly be, I think. Who is happier because of 
 me ? Birds sing among the branches ; flowers 
 bloom ; cool breezes fan my face ; and the sky is 
 deep and blue all make me happier, and were made 
 for that ; but I am doing very little toward following 
 this beautiful example which nature sets so lavishly 
 before us. I wish that I had more to do ; I wish that 
 I knew somebody who needed me. Not that I should
 
 92 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 have any one in trouble so that I might have the 
 privilege of relieving him, but because I would like to 
 do good in the world. Our little village is so quiet, 
 and every one seems so happy, I do not sec that I 
 am needed here. 
 
 Evening. More beautiful to me than the merriest 
 sunshine are the shadows, the breeziness, the murmur 
 of this peaceful night. I am half happy as I sit by 
 the open window and look out upon the white face 
 fixed in the heavens, near the heaving, talking waters 
 of the lake. How great the Universe seems to me as 
 I look upward toward the stars ! How I diminish to 
 an atom and grow dizzy with my thoughts ! How I 
 try to lift my heart up, up above our world, and think 
 of the Almighty ; think of Christ just beyond the sky 
 up there : for He always seems in heaven to me ; and 
 yet, always watching us, and ready to help us weak, 
 tired wanderers up to Him, above the stumbling- 
 blocks upon which we are so apt to fall only when 
 we reach our arms to Him as a child does to its father, 
 and ask Him to carry us. Give me such faith, O God ! 
 Fill my heart full from Thine own ! Make me love 
 Thee best, for ever ! Help me to appreciate more 
 deeply what I am saying to Thee ! Make me all, 
 entirely Thine ! What bubbles we are ! On what shore 
 shall we break, by-and-by ? Whither are we going ? 
 Why were we created ? Questions such as these has 
 Mr. F. been putting forth downstairs to us all. I am 
 glad he talked about these things : it made me think.
 
 "LIFE" AND "DEATH:'' 9> 
 
 After all, this is the great question : What is Life > 
 What, what is this that stretches all about us, and we 
 so small ? Why do we stop to play with the shells 
 on the shore ? Why do these infinite nothings afford 
 employment to us ? Why will we think of them when 
 God is all around us, watching (as Mr. F. said) to sec 
 if we will not throw them down and lift our hands 
 to Him. Oh, this living ! and I live ! Oh, mystic 
 circle of eternity ! and I must enter it ! If it were 
 not for Christ, should we not each cry out, " Would 
 that I had never been born ! " 
 
 Saturday, May 2$. The startling intelligence came 
 to us yesterday that father's old friend, Charles G., 
 was dead. He was a man with a fine, artistic mind,, 
 and a keen perception of the beautiful. He had such 
 careless, original ways, that I always liked him ; though 
 I never knew him very well, because I was too young 
 to talk with him. He hunted ; fished ; made sketches ; 
 and took a great interest in trees and flowers. His 
 house was not like anybody else's house ; but had 
 curious windows, piazzas, etc. He first saw and loved 
 the girl who became his wife one time when she was 
 coming down a shady lane with a wreath of corn 
 leaves around her head. His baby was swung in a 
 hammock, instead of being rocked in a cradle ; his , 
 dogs and horses would play around him, and seemed 
 to understand whatever he said to them. I have 
 seldom seen him since I was a child ; but I remember
 
 94 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 the piercing blue eye, and thin, brown face of the 
 genial, sensitive man, the amateur artist, the poet, the 
 friend. He is dead. 
 
 Henry said to-day, after a visit to Rose Hill 
 
 Cemetery (Chicago) : " Since we must all come to 
 this, why not as well at one time as another? It will 
 be said of us before long, ' They are no more.' Folks 
 that we know will think about it. Those that we love 
 will weep over it, and will say, ' Poor girl ! ' or ' Poor 
 fellow ! ' But it will gradually fade even from their 
 minds, until by-and-by they will think of us and not 
 cry at all." It is better so. Sorrow enough for each 
 one who lives ; let us forget as much as we can. 
 
 There is one thing that seems rather strange to me. 
 When a friend dies, no matter how many faults he 
 .had, they are all buried with him ; but the good 
 qualities, the worthy deeds, rise, like birds, above the 
 mound, and float, singing pleasant memories, around 
 the white stone, or nestle in the grass over the grave. 
 We take it for granted that all who are dear to us go 
 to heaven when they die, even if their lives have not 
 been all that we could wish. We think that some 
 way they must be saved. We have forgotten their 
 wrong deeds ; and so we imagine that God has for- 
 .gotten them too. 
 
 In this connection I will mention a fact which has 
 given me pain. Very often it is true that due 
 appreciation of a character is not felt, or at least not 
 -expressed, until death, making heavy the ear of the
 
 A PRODIGY. 95 
 
 sensitive soul, opens the lips of praise in its behalf. It 
 is a pity that the thirsty heart goes through life un- 
 refreshed by the libation which is needlessly poured 
 out upon the grave. 
 
 May 30. Rose this morning with a very unpretty 
 countenance. One side of my face does not match 
 the other at all ; nevertheless I do not scruple to look 
 in the glass once in awhile, and smile at my ludicrous 
 appearance. There is a sort of loss of balance, owing 
 to the extra amount of cheek on the left in some 
 way connected with a toothache that has afflicted me 
 for a few days. Mother says my mouth was always 
 inclined to draw in that direction : but now all of my 
 laughing is done on the right side ; so that I may 
 succeed in bringing that important feature around 
 straight, and thus good may grow out of apparent 
 ill. Moreover, I am inclined to laugh more than is 
 quite " seemly " in a person of my years ; and since I 
 cannot now perform said exercise with as much 
 dexterity as formerly, I may be cured of my fault 
 another good : so I think I will not complain. 
 
 I have been reading for a long time this after- 
 noon about Lady Mary Wortley Montague ; and I 
 wonder why she was so smart ! At the age of twelve 
 she wrote beautiful poetry ; while I at that age was 
 building play-houses : at fifteen she was busy with 
 the project of establishing a nunnery in England ; 
 while I at fourteen went away to school for the first
 
 9 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 time, and learned to spell " big words," and to answer 
 stupid questions " on the map." I suppose the solu- 
 tion to the problem of her great superiority is that 
 she was born with about sixteen times as much brain 
 as I ; or, with that amount multiplied by any figure 
 that will bring the proportion high enough. 
 
 But I will not fret ; for, if I am not a genius, I have 
 a '' good time " as the world goes, and know several 
 things beside. 
 
 Evening. Another day, not altogether unprofitable 
 to me, has passed ; and I am in my little room alone 
 It is not " ours " any longer. Frank does not sit at 
 the opposite side of the table any more : she is teach- 
 ing again, away from home. I used to tell her every- 
 thing : not always just when I was most interested,, 
 perhaps, in my secrets ; but sooner or later. And 
 concerning her own affairs, I think she told me every- 
 thing ; if there was any exception to this rule it was 
 not because she would not as lief have me know, for 
 she told me so once. 
 
 When we see people, how many thoughts go- 
 scampering through our heads concerning them that 
 they never dream about ! For instance : I am talking 
 pleasantly with Miss Blank, but I am thinking to my- 
 self, " Your bonnet is not pretty ; I do not like your 
 cloak ; your hair is not dressed in a tasteful manner,"" 
 or something of that sort. Perhaps my reflections 
 are just the other way ; and I think, " How pretty 
 . you are, and witty too ! I wish I could say such
 
 THE TOLLING BELL. 97 
 
 things as you do." Well, everybody who is talking 
 with us is either thinking something far from compli- 
 mentary, something for which, if we knew it, we 
 should box his ears ; or thinking about our gifts and 
 graces but all the time appearing deeply interested 
 in the subject of conversation, with which we are play- 
 ing a game of battle-dore and shuttle-cock. " Miser- 
 able hypocrites " I was about to call all of us who do 
 so and " us " includes everybody in this case. Yet 
 we are not to blame after all ; for we cannot help 
 making mental comments upon what we see. But 
 how fine it is that nobody sees the little ideas that go 
 through our minds ! otherwise much needless pain 
 might be felt. We ought to think as charitably as 
 circumstances will permit, however. By-the-way, that 
 makes me think that I like a royal, unselfish person, 
 who, when he hears pleasant words spoken of another 
 that the other would naturally like to hear also, will 
 repeat them as heartily as if he too were glad they 
 had been said, and glad to tell them. 
 
 The bell has been tolling I do not know for whom 
 or for what ; but it has sent a solemn feeling into my 
 heart. I dread to hear a bell toll. I listen in un- 
 pleasant suspense for the distant strokes, and yet am 
 startled when they come. How people are dying 
 dying all the time ! It seems to me heaven must be 
 almost full. What do they do up there ? I wonder 
 oh, 1 wonder ! When a weary one has travelled 
 until he has gained the door and knocked, how then 
 
 G
 
 98 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 do they receive him ? What does he see first ? What 
 does he do first ? Does it not seem to our earth- 
 bound minds that it would be more pleasant not 
 to go alone ; to take our best friend by the hand 
 and so stand before the portal ? I ought not to 
 say this though. I see the reason why it is un- 
 necessary : Christ is the Friend who is strongest ; 
 He goes with us when all others fail. 
 
 Thursday morning, Jtme 6. Well, last evening we 
 had a " sociable " at Mr. P.'s. I had a good time, I 
 guess ; at least I enjoyed the talk with Mr. F. : but 
 somehow such places are losing their charm for me. 
 By going I do not learn anything new that I know of ; 
 and I am quite sure I teach nothing new to any one 
 else. I think the pleasure derived from such " gather- 
 ings" is imaginary. People expect that they shall 
 enjoy themselves when they go, and force themselves 
 to believe that they have gained what they expected 
 when they return. So the girls put on their best 
 dresses ; put flowers in their hair ; and Cologne on 
 their handkerchiefs ; with ribbons around their waists ; 
 chains on their necks, and rings on their fingers and 
 so go over to the Sociable. And the boys put on their 
 best Sunday suits, with patent leather boots, pretty little 
 garotte collars, with delicate neckties and perfumed 
 hair ; and then step over to see the girls who have 
 gone to the ' sociable ; ' each hoping to produce upon 
 the other a fine effect. Now they stand up and look
 
 THOUGHTS UPON THOUGHT, 99 
 
 into each other's faces and simper, and engage in small 
 talk. How funny they look to a third person in the 
 corner ! What does all this amount to ? Roll it all up 
 together, put a paper around it, and label it " Society " ; 
 for that is what it is. 
 
 Sabbath noon. Heard a very good sermon by 
 Professor H. When it was over the benediction was 
 pronounced ; the people went out ! What were they 
 thinking of as they walked through the door of the 
 pleasant church, up the path among the trees, to their 
 homes ? The tall and the short, the big and the little, 
 the good and the bad, each had some idea whether of 
 importance or not, revolving in his head. What an odd 
 book it would be that should contain them all ! 
 
 Our thoughts are like folks. There is the old 
 maid thought, "far-fetched" and stiff; the selfish 
 thought, like an old miser ; the silly thought, like a 
 Broadway dandy ; the beautiful, graceful thought, like 
 a young lady ; the good thought, in the language of 
 " veal," like the boy thirteen or fourteen years of age* ; 
 and once in awhile there is the fresh, charming thought, 
 like a little child. 
 
 Our thoughts are like flowers. There is the great, 
 blundering poppy thought, an old idea in pompous 
 language ; the startling, brilliant thought, like the 
 crimson verbena ; the plain, common-sense thought 
 that is like the sun-flower ; the delicate, pure thought, 
 
 * See the Essay in " Recreations of a Country Parson." 
 
 G 2
 
 100 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 which the heart helps to originate as well as the head, 
 and this is like the violet. 
 
 June 10. Since writing the above, I have ventured 
 out into this cold world as far as Chicago, where I 
 visited a class-mate, who by her sweetness and 
 patience won the name among us all of " the angel 
 without wings." She entertained me in the most 
 hospitable manner ; but I was glad to get back to 
 Evanston again. As the cars came steaming up to 
 our dep6t here, I saw a long line of theological 
 students looking tremendously solemn, and a crowd 
 of people standing on the platform. If it had not 
 been that I knew Bishop Simpson was starting for 
 California on that train, I do not say but I might 
 have thought all that demonstration was for me ! To 
 speak seriously, I could hardly keep from crying 
 when the Bishop said his farewell words to his neigh- 
 bours and friends. As I stood there looking at him I 
 said a little prayer ; and the burden of it was that God 
 would bring him safely back. I love him ; for it 
 seems to me he is the holiest man that I have ever 
 known. 
 
 Four little children out in the sand opposite my 
 window are chattering like magpies. How a little 
 thing attracts their attention ! how restless they are \ 
 There, they have scampered away out of my sight. 
 Once I was a child too. I wonder if I am happier 
 now than then ?
 
 BOATING ON THE LAKE. IOI 
 
 Sage conclusions of the owner of this book : 
 To read of " experiences " is more pleasant than to 
 have them. To expect is more pleasant than to 
 realize. Even to be in doubt about the possession of 
 some desired object is more delicious than to possess 
 that object. To be loved and I not care, is better 
 than to love and others not care ! 
 
 Oliver has been recounting his exploits during 
 the present summer. I am thereby reminded to 
 chronicle my own. Well, I Ve had the toothache and 
 the sore-throat, the headache and the sleeps. I have 
 stayed at home and spent my time with these four 
 delightful companions, until recently they departed, 
 when I sat down and have twirled my thumbs up to 
 date. 
 
 Evening. Went boating. Had a pleasant time. 
 Notwithstanding, as A. said, " we did not get into the 
 lake, but the lake got into the boat." When we were 
 far out on the water, I thought, if the boat should be 
 upset, A. would save R.; but I, perhaps, would drown, 
 having nobody to rescue me. And then I wondered 
 if, when they found me, after a day or two, with my 
 hair tangled with weeds, and I looking kind of help- 
 less and pitiful, they would not be sorry, and say, 
 " Poor child ! " and think that I was rather " nice " 
 after all ? 
 
 Sunday, July 7. There is a bee poking his pro- 
 boscis under the bonnet of every flower in the garden.
 
 IO2 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 Great flirt that he is ! but no worse than some 
 specimens I wot of, who are of a larger size than he. 
 This is not Sunday talk. I am sorry ; but I could 
 not help thinking of the queer old bee just for a 
 minute. 
 
 There is a rare flower in the garden that Mr. G. 
 gave to my mother I can see it from my window. 
 It is drooping with the heavy rain. Though so frail, 
 it has outlived him who planted it there who loved 
 every flower so well, who rejoiced in nature under 
 every form, and who has gone up now to the Source 
 of all that is beautiful on earth. 
 
 A peaceful love for God and Christ has been 
 down in my heart to-day, that I wish might never 
 leave it only increase eternally. 
 
 Evening. It thunders and lightens ; and I am 
 afraid. I wonder what Frank is doing ? She 
 always was afraid in a storm. I remember when we 
 lived at " Forest Home," she used to put her head in 
 mother's lap and ask her to sing, so as to have 
 the evidence that she at least was not frightened ; and 
 would lie that way until the rain had ceased. Oh, 
 those were queer times ! Frank and I never 
 dreamt of what was coming never thought of our- 
 selves as being young ladies. I am sure I never 
 counted myself of less importance than I do to-day ; 
 but I can hardly imagine myself the little girl that I 
 am in the picture that we keep under lock and key 
 (for shame's sake), where Frank and I are represented
 
 "AT HOME." IO3 
 
 sitting, one on each side of a table, with one 
 hand apiece carefully laid thereon, and our faces 
 drawn down to a length suitable to the occasion (viz., 
 in town, sitting for daguerreotypes) ! One of my ears 
 peers provokingly out from my bonnet, and the hand 
 with a ring on it (my first possession of the sort) is 
 placed in a conspicuous position. Oh, Mary Willard, 
 can it be that you and your elder sister ever made the 
 astonishing appearance here indicated ? Let me 
 commend you for the good sense exhibited in keeping 
 that picture in some sly place, where none of your 
 present friends may receive the shock that a sight of 
 it would inevitably produce. 
 
 I have just received half a dozen ladies in the 
 parlour. I dislike " formal calls," though not the 
 callers by any means. I was won by Mrs. M'D., 
 when she put her hand in mine as she went out 
 although she is almost a stranger and said " Good- 
 by " ; instead of the stiff " Good afternoon," accom- 
 panied by a stiffer bow, so usual nowadays upon such 
 occasions. 
 
 When we look at people, how little we think of 
 all the trouble that has attended their "growing 
 up ! " What " perils by land and by sea " have they 
 passed through ! How many have been their " hair- 
 breadth 'scapes ! " What hard work somebody has 
 done to provide each one of them with three meals 
 every day, and with clothing in sufficient amount and 
 adapted to the season ! Yet there they stand by you
 
 104 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 as calm and composed as if they had "growed," in the 
 first place, like Topsy, and lived as carelessly ever 
 since as she did with Eva and St. Clare. 
 
 When we see a lame person, or one who is blind, 
 how little we comprehend the awful agony that he 
 must have endured for weary months, or even years 
 after the accident, to be as well as he now appears ! 
 Every heart knoweth its own bitterness. Doubtless 
 each shall have just as much pain as he can bear ; and 
 it is merciful that even through sympathy we cannot 
 partake all of another's woe. 
 
 I have just been watching a rainbow ; it is almost 
 gone now. When I saw that beautiful thing reaching 
 to the horizon on the north and south, I thought the 
 earth was like a great basket full of leaves and flowers, 
 and the rainbow was the handle to it 
 
 Mollie L. has just been here. I like her for 
 several things ; and one is because she dresses so 
 neatly and appropriately on all occasions. 
 
 I have been reading about a Tournament. 
 The victor was, according to the custom, to select, 
 from among the ladies present, the one who should 
 be crowned " Queen of Beauty and Love." I have a 
 morbid desire to read of pretty women and handsome 
 men, handsomely dressed. It is like looking at a 
 splendid picture. Sometimes it suits me as well as 
 music, I believe. 
 
 I have been thinking how strangely people act 
 about religion. Their conduct in turning away from
 
 TO THE CAMP MEETING. ^S 
 
 it is no more sensible than if a person should stand 
 on the brink of an awful precipice, and say, " Now I 
 shall jump down here and be dashed in pieces, instead 
 of going into that beautiful palace there to the right 
 I know if I jump I shall be killed ; but I'll shut my 
 eyes." And so he plunges headlong. Poor, poor 
 creature ! Why will he be so crazy ? Oh, I'll try, try 
 harder than ever, to gain an entrance into the mansions 
 prepared for those who are prepared for them. 
 
 How queer the words " old woman " sound to me 
 now ! I cannot think that my hair will ever be grey, 
 my face wrinkled, my eyes dim with age. It must be 
 very sad to grow old. And yet people take it natur- 
 ally enough when it comes, and don't seem to mind 
 it at least my grandfather didn't, I remember. 
 
 July 22. How can I ever tell all I have seen since 
 writing last ! On Saturday morning father, Oliver, 
 and I went to the Evanston depot to take the cars for 
 the "Camp Meeting," vid Chicago. We had the 
 pleasure of Mary's company, having called for her on 
 the way. Arriving at Chicago, 
 
 " That cold-hearted city, 
 That flourishing city, 
 That large Western city, 
 Which every one knows," 
 
 we took the special train for the Camp Meeting. A 
 more beautiful sight than that tented grove I have 
 seldom seen. The scenery upon the Desplaines River.
 
 106 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 just outside the grounds, reminded both Mary and me 
 of the view in Perrine's Panorama of the River Jordan. 
 The heavy foliage of the trees that crowded to the 
 river's brink ; the stream, calm and shadowed ; the 
 horses standing among the dark green shrubbery all 
 was very pleasant to the eye. As we approached the 
 woods in which the tents were arranged, I tried to im- 
 agine that they were inhabited by the old Patriarchs 
 who worshipped God in the forests thousands of years 
 ago ; who lived in that Holy Land across the seas ; 
 with whom God talked, because they had not Christ 
 as we have Him ; and whose customs form the 
 shadowy background to all our modern modes of 
 worship. Somehow I do not like new things as well 
 as old ones. I think there is some truth in these lines 
 of Coleridge : 
 
 "Time consecrates, 
 And what is grey with age becomes religion." 
 
 Well, we ate our dinner in the grove, a pleasant 
 company of us ; and it was very novel and delightful 
 to me. That day I heard the finest sermon I ever 
 listened to in my life. Bishop Simpson delivered it 
 His subject was " Faith." It was a sermon that seemed 
 to take us very near to God, and seemed to bring 
 Christ down to us one that went to my heart, and 
 brought the tears into my eyes. 
 
 July 24. About twenty years ago, in the State of 
 New York, " might have been seen " a young mother
 
 A RETROSPECT. IO/ 
 
 playing with her only son, who had arrived at the 
 interesting age of six years. With her own hands she 
 made his little clothes ; she curled his soft brown 
 hair ; and, gazing into the blue eyes of the boy, she 
 no doubt thought him uncommonly innocent and 
 charming. Well, this small boy lived on, year after 
 year ; he grew, he cried and laughed ; he rocked the 
 cradle of his youngest sister, often impatiently and, 
 I make no doubt, he dropped her on the floor when 
 he was tired of holding her, so that she might cry and 
 be taken care of by his mother. He went to school ; 
 played marbles ; made mud pies ; studied his lessons 
 with unusual diligence. When quite a youth he lived 
 upon a farm ; he milked cows and tended sheep ; he 
 made a swing ; he swung his sisters ; he hunted, 
 fished, and learned to swim. Later in life he went to 
 college ; assumed superior airs at vacation time ; 
 smoked cigars ; wore paper collars ; carried a slim 
 little cane ; and quoted Byron. Subsequently he 
 graduated, in a creditable manner, from college ; lived 
 at home for a few months ; grew serious ; commenced 
 studying for the ministry Fell in Love. 
 
 Nineteen years ago, in the State of New York, a 
 bright-eyed little girl made her appearance among the 
 ways of men. She grew ; she throve ; she went to 
 school ; she had her little affections for fellow-infants. 
 She came with her parents to reside in a beautiful 
 Western village. She developed into a refined young 
 lady, religious, educated, and accomplished. She
 
 IO8 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 studied four languages beside her own ; exhibited 
 great musical talent ; possessed all the domestic 
 virtues, such as patience, mechanical skill, tact, and 
 so on. 
 
 The boy and girl whom I have thus glowingly 
 described became acquainted a few months ago. 
 Recently they have exchanged hearts, and seem at 
 present to be in a happy state of mind. 
 
 After all that I have said, but one more remark 
 shall be offered, viz. : My brave and noble brother can 
 no longer be depended upon as an escort " o' nights," 
 by his feminine relatives ; and of late spends such a 
 number of evenings abroad as can be accounted for on 
 only one hypothesis ! 
 
 July 27. Just now I was reading the war news in 
 the evening paper ; and I thought how the transac- 
 tions of our day will be added to the " Revised 
 Editions " of the United States History, and little 
 children will learn about them when we are dead. I 
 was frightened ; and I put the paper down and asked 
 myself, " Where shall I be then ? " and resolved 
 in Christ's strength to try still harder to be good. 
 
 " What in me is dark, illume ; 
 What is low, raise and support" 
 
 July 31. Without any manner of doubt a clear 
 case of warmth. Tableau : East room, downstairs, 
 decidedly in disorder ; on lounge and sofa two 
 dishevelled young ladies gasping for breath ;
 
 SUMMER HEAT. 109 
 
 three-double in an arm-chair an amiable, melted man ; 
 these persons listening to a discourse on the merits of 
 refrigerators, delivered by their mother, the warm 
 lady of the house, clad in a green morning-dress. An 
 occasional laugh may be heard ; short though, for 
 want of strength to put life into it in fact, a very 
 warm laugh. Now and then a breeze comes lazily 
 through the window ; but it is a very warm breeze. 
 The four are perspiring the four feel languid 
 indeed the four amount to very little more at this 
 time than the same number of wax-candles would in 
 a similar temperature. 
 Curtain falls. 
 
 It seems to me that time is, to most of us, like an 
 accommodation train, with eternity for its destination. 
 We have opportunities of being useful to those in the 
 same car with us at least. Missionaries risk the 
 danger of stepping across the platform to those out of 
 our reach. Shall we sit idle and hear that child crying 
 for water ? or shall we take the cup from our basket 
 and offer it to " one of these ?" Shall we not inform 
 that young girl, who seems innocent and dependent, 
 concerning the best route for the place that she would 
 reach? Shall we not arrange the pillows for that 
 poor invalid who is from necessity our fellow-traveller ? 
 Oh, shall we not help every one who needs us ? For 
 soon, by some mischance, we may switch off on the side 
 track of adversity ; and then we shall wish for some
 
 HO NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 friendly hand to aid us. But I will not fret about the 
 future, but will try now to do with my might whatever 
 is in my power. 
 
 " Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, 
 As the swift seasons roll ! 
 Leave thy low-vaulted past ! 
 Let each new temple, nobler than the last, 
 Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, 
 Till thou at length art free, 
 Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea." 
 
 To me there is something very significant in the 
 opening and shutting of a gate, and also in what 
 usually follows the rap or ring. It puts the mind in 
 a most active state ; it compels one, almost without 
 will of one's own, to peep slily into the glass to see if 
 the toilet is all right And if some particular person 
 is expected, as a lover, a husband, or a long-absent 
 brother one's heart, which before might have been 
 brooding, like a lone bird on its nest, begins to dive 
 and flutter most unaccountably. To hear the gate 
 creak is to me like taking a book into my hand to 
 read. I expect the unfolding of a new subject of some 
 kind, be it prosy or pleasant to me. 
 
 Friends ! write on the margins of the letters you 
 send to me. I have a liking for these detached bits of 
 ideas. They are like sugar in the bottom of my coffee 
 cup, or the dessert after dinner. 
 
 A kitten sits purring on my lap, and thrusting its 
 .graceful little paw over the words as fast as I write them. 
 I have not held one before for a long time. This is
 
 A KITTEN IN THE HOUSE. Ill 
 
 Mary's, and strayed in because it was lost ; and per- 
 haps because it knew that I am very friendly to its 
 kind. Home without a kitten is not half a home ; and 
 so I shall tell father by way of a suggestion. What a 
 grave face the little thing has ! What great, won- 
 dering eyes ! I wish that I could know what is going 
 on in that odd black head. 
 
 We owe a great deal to these silent creatures, which 
 bear all sorts of abuse without retaliation. They set 
 us a worthy example. There ! my " little neighbour" 
 as Charles Nordhoff would say has curled up in 
 my lap and gone to sleep. I wish I were as easy and 
 graceful as a cat ! 
 
 The birds in the grove are calling to each other 
 just as they used to do at " Forest Home" when I was 
 but a little child. It seems rather strange to me that 
 I have been in this world so long that I can look back 
 and say appropriately, just as mother does " When I 
 was a child." Many things remind me of the change ; 
 though somehow I think my heart is almost as fresh 
 as it was so long ago. 
 
 August 3. I just took up my "Journal" to write, 
 when Frank suggested that for a week we should 
 exchange a proposition to which I willingly agreed ; 
 and the result of which is that this wretched pen is 
 now walking over her paper instead of mine. I won- 
 der what Oliver is doing to-day up at " Forest Home," 
 where we lived so many years where Frank and I
 
 112 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 tried to train a calf into a riding horse, where we had 
 shooting matches with bows and arrows, where we 
 used to go and see Louise A., and make play-houses 
 with her. I wonder if O. is thinking how he used to 
 " make believe " that he was going to hunt the sheep, 
 when he was on his way to the river for the purpose 
 of " taking a swim." I wish that I were by his side in 
 father's old room now. I would tell him of his 
 " Dulcinea " ; and once started on that theme he 
 would only cease to talk when the supper-bell 
 rang. 
 
 Evening. The little thoughts that usually favour 
 me at such a time as this were so much afraid of 
 the strange place where I was going to put them 
 that they all scampered away in a most heartless 
 manner, and left me sitting here quite embarrassed ; 
 and feeling as much confused as one does at a 
 party, when, on happening to look around, one 
 finds everybody going away, while one has been so 
 much occupied that one never thought that the 
 hours had been passing, but vainly imagined that 
 Time had been indulgent enough to poise on his 
 glancing wing above the happy company and rest 
 awhile. 
 
 August^. "Home again" (i.e., at my own Jour- 
 nal). It is pleasant to be restored to one's possessions. 
 I cannot say anything " bright " in F.'s Journal ; and I 
 do not think she can in mine.
 
 SOCRATES AND HIS JUDGES. 113 
 
 I have been reading the " Apology of Socrates " ; 
 and it has moved me much. Think of the grand, 
 calm man standing up before his base accusers with 
 such words as these : 
 
 " For to fear death, O Athenians, is nothing less 
 than to appear to be wise without being so ; since it 
 is to appear to know what one does not know. For 
 no one knows but that death is the greatest of all 
 good to man ; but men fear it as if they knew well 
 that it is the greatest of evils. And how is not this 
 the most reprehensible ignorance, to think that one 
 knows what one does not know? But I, O Athenians ! 
 in this perhaps differ from most men ; and if I should 
 say that I am in any thing wiser than another, it 
 would be this that not having a competent know- 
 ledge of the things in Hades, I also think that I have 
 not such knowledge. But to act unjustly, and to 
 disobey my superior, whether God or man, I know is 
 evil and base ; I shall never, therefore, fear or shun 
 things which for aught I know may be good, before 
 evils which I know to be evils. You, therefore, O my 
 judges ! ought to entertain good hopes with respect 
 to death ; and to meditate on this one truth that to 
 a good man nothing is evil, neither while living nor 
 when dead : nor are his concerns neglected by the 
 gods ! " 
 
 Then listen to his closing words ! What a subject 
 for a painter ! Socrates standing before the tribunal; 
 his loose robes sweeping in folds to the ground ; his 
 
 H
 
 114 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 arms folded ; and a calm, majestic look upon his face, 
 as he says to his accusers : 
 
 " But it is now time to depart for me to die, for 
 you to live ; but which of us is going to a better state 
 is unknown to every one but God." 
 
 Saturday morning, August 10. Frank has just 
 gone to take poor sick Rowena out riding. Old 
 " Yankee " R.'s favourite horse started off slowly, 
 as if conscious that the mistress who used to gallop so 
 gleefully through the groves upon his back required a 
 gentler motion now. I pity R. She has been ill so 
 long ; and she knows that those delightful sensations 
 of health and vigour which she once enjoyed will 
 never be hers again. She knows that in a few weeks she 
 will be laid under the sod at Rose Hill, while all goes 
 on among us as it did before. Oh, the thought makes 
 me shudder ! For my own strength and freedom 
 from pain I cannot thank Thee enough, O God ! 
 
 Mollie L. called this morning. I shall not forget 
 in a long, long time the beautiful conversation I had 
 with her about things good and holy ; worthy always 
 to be talked of, instead of the narrow, meagre ideas of 
 worldly life. 
 
 At a cost of great trembling and heart-beating 
 I spoke this morning in " General Class " : but I was 
 plenteously rewarded by the consciousness that I had 
 done my duty ; that those whom I have advised to 
 live a sacrificing life, and who would naturally notice
 
 MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 115 
 
 my action then, will not think of me with reproach, 
 nor as one who before men denied the Saviour, whom 
 in private she had professed to love. One who would 
 do this is unworthy to live, I think. Ella, my brave 
 Sabbath-school girl, was the first to speak. She did 
 it so cheerfully ; as if she counted all the unpleasant- 
 ness of so public an act as nothing for Christ's sake 
 Oh, it is very beautiful to think that we are all in the 
 same path that leads up to the Heavenly City. Who 
 can be content to stay behind ? Who refuse to jour- 
 ney with God's people up to His throne ? 
 
 Lying on the lounge and looking at the pretty 
 quilt on our bed, I thought of all the diamonds and 
 circles that were worked into it by the delicate 
 fingers of a girl of nineteen years. And I, the grown- 
 up daughter of that girl, who is now going down the 
 century, and who has several threads of silver in her 
 hair, look at the quilt and acknowledge within myself 
 that I am not half so industrious as my mother used 
 to be ; and upon thinking the matter carefully over, 
 conclude that on the whole none of the girls of 
 eighteen hundred and sixty-one are as industrious as 
 their mothers were before them. And more than 
 that, they are not so sensible and thoughtful as the 
 girls of " eighteen hundred and ever so few " (as the 
 Autocrat expresses it*) ; for, though we have more 
 advantages in every way, yet very often they go 
 
 * " The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table," by Dr. O. W. Holmes. 
 
 H 2
 
 TIO NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 unimproved, and fashion, frivolity, and foolishness are, 
 in a sad number of instances, our characteristics. 
 
 And the quilt reminds me of something else. ID 
 it there is a piece of one of Aunt Charlotte's dresses. 
 Aunt Charlotte was mother's youngest sister, and died 
 at the age of twelve. I have often seen the little 
 high-hcclcd shoes and the childish toys so carefully 
 preserved as mementos of her by her friends ; and I 
 have tried to imagine her talking, laughing, and play- 
 ing as I used to do ; but it does not seem very real 
 to me. For more than thirty years the little feet 
 that wore those shoes have been still in the grave- 
 For more than thirty years has her soul been 
 in the country where they never grow old. But it 
 seems to me that when Aunt W. went to heaven two- 
 or three years ago, and met her sister Charlotte, she 
 saw a little girl of twelve years ; for souls do not grow 
 up to be big ones there, though vigour and progress- 
 belong to each one of them. 
 
 Downstairs just now mother and I were talking ; 
 and she said that often things that she knew the 
 future would bring seemed so unreal that she was as 
 much startled when they came as if she had had no 
 premonitions of them ; for instance, when Aunt W. 
 was sick, several years ago, she told mother that she 
 wanted her large Bible, in which she had marked her 
 favourite passages, to be given to father when she 
 died. Though everything was tending toward that 
 result, mother said, she could not think, as her sister
 
 THE YOUNG MISSIONARY. 
 
 sat in her chair propped up with pillows, and looking 
 so cheerful and quiet, that it would really be. But 
 the wheels of Time went round and round the worst 
 did happen : Aunt W. died. Father reads from that 
 same Bible to us at family worship every day ; and in 
 it we try to trace out the path by which she reached 
 the changeless land. The ringers which held the 
 pretty fan that was Aunt W.'s, but belongs to mother 
 now oh, where are they ? Lying quietly on her 
 breast under the ground. Last Sabbath, when I held 
 it as we sat in church, I thought how strange is life ! 
 How inexorable are its laws ! Oh, this change " in 
 the twinkling of an eye," from all we loved and knew 
 as pleasant and familiar how terrible it is! Surely 
 none but God can sustain us in that last extremity ! 
 
 This evening we were talking of Mr. M., the 
 brave young missionary. The struggle that it cost 
 him to go to India may have been as severe as one 
 would have in dying if one were prepared : the 
 suffering was far worse perhaps. Ah, we who live 
 these sheltered lives, with only " every-day " tempta- 
 tions, who have so little required of us, cannot but 
 feel that those who live nobler lives ; whose every act 
 is for God ; who in some sense lose their lives for 
 Him will have higher places than we, by-and-by. 
 And if our little enemies, which for comparison's sake 
 may be called imps, so often overcome us, what 
 should we do with the great big devil with whom so 
 many have to wrestle ; and over whom they triumph,
 
 IIS NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 and royally place their feet upon his neck as he lies- 
 vanquished before them ? 
 
 I think it is Lavater who says : " God fixes all of 
 a man's features for him, except his mouth : this he 
 can change." In many instances I have noticed this 
 statement as true. 
 
 There is Mr. , with his mouth drawn up like 
 
 the opening of an old-fashioned work-bag. I do not 
 think God meant it to look so disagreeable. I do not 
 think this man's disposition is very good : I cannot 
 help the opinion, and I hope it is not uncharitable. 
 His religion does not seem cheerful to me ; his voice 
 
 sounds so woful when he mentions it. Mrs. 's- 
 
 mouth (not to be disrespectful, but honest) looks like 
 that of a fish to me undetermined and heavy ; Miss 
 A.'s affects you like the sight of a ripe peach or 
 apricot ; and Mrs. B.'s is small, and full of drollery in 
 its expression. I think that a person who will take 
 the pains to hold his mouth by mere strength of will, 
 so that it shall not look cross, until it gets amiable 
 habits, is an obliging one, and deserves well of his 
 countrymen. 
 
 Evening. I did not know whether to read " Prue and? 
 I"; the Evening Journal \ or to sew on my girdle r 
 so I have done neither, but am sitting here with a_ 
 fresh pen, full of ink. Since I have no one to talk 
 with but myself, and it would seem odd to attempt a. 
 conversation with her, I will put down some " stray
 
 AN ATTRACTIVE PORTRAIT. 1 19 
 
 reflections." Frank says she observes character very 
 much of late. I am going to cultivate this trait in 
 myself. My idea of the elements of character, which 
 we should try to develop, is this : The basis, the 
 entire background, should be love to God and 
 obedience toward Him. The figures that are to act 
 before this are charity, gentleness, truth, generosity, 
 and energy all combined with a firm purpose to be 
 intelligent and to do good. In my idea, Religion is 
 the engine, and the other elements are the cars 
 attached to it A character that most beautifully 
 illustrates unselfishness is that of Dora, our old 
 school-friend. This quality has had a splendid 
 growth in her nature. She is always speaking kind, 
 encouraging, words to her friends ; she manifests 
 great enthusiasm in all that concerns their welfare ; 
 she seems to derive her purest pleasure from the noble 
 qualities displayed by them, and withal requires so 
 little attention to herself that one would almost think 
 she " counted herself out," and only found her happi- 
 ness in that of others. She has so much childlike 
 innocence and artlessness that it is very refreshing to 
 hear her talk. She always speaks of others ; always 
 gathers flowers to decorate your hair, never thinking 
 of her own. 
 
 It seems to me that Eternity is like an anthem 
 to which Time furnishes the prelude : the universe 
 is the organ ; men are the black keys, women the 
 white ones !
 
 120 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 Man in this world stands between two mysteries. 
 Whence came he ? Whither goeth he ? The first is 
 not a vital question ; the second is answered as soon 
 as his decision is made concerning the manner in 
 which he will act. Life bridges the distance between 
 the Whence and the W T hither. God made us. Christ 
 loves us and leads us if we will, and at last hands us 
 back again to God. Each one must go around the 
 divine circle : only it is left for him to decide where 
 God shall put him at last. 
 
 " Life's mystery, deep, restless as the ocean, 
 
 Hath surged and wailed for ages to and fro ; 
 
 Earth's generations watch its ceaseless motion, 
 As in and out its hollow meanings flow. 
 
 Shivering and yearning by that unknown sea, 
 Let my soul calm itself, O God, in Thee ! " 
 
 It seems to me that God is like an electrical bat- 
 tery. Christ stands next to Him, and first receives 
 the shock ; then come the Angels ; and Humanity 
 completes the chain. So the spark of divinity thrills 
 all along the line, strengthening each spirit that 
 receives it, and lifting it up nearer to the Source of 
 power and love. 
 
 In " Festus," Lucifer is made to say : 
 
 " The mind hath features as the body hath." 
 
 This line reminds me of those of plain exterior, who 
 so often possess characters whose features must have 
 perfect symmetry, which, if the outside had been 
 beautiful, flattery and vanity might have marred.
 
 DREAMLAND. 1 2 1 
 
 Many plain people are like chairs and couches of vel- 
 vet, covered with brown holland to preserve, not to 
 attract. 
 
 I have finished reading " Prue and I." It is a 
 pleasant book ; and I thank you, Mr. Curtis, for 
 having written it The main idea is that we can live 
 in fancy if we please. That imagination takes us on 
 the longest journeys with unequalled rapidity, and 
 without fatigue. By means of it we may cross the 
 ocean without danger of being sea-sick ; may visit 
 Europe and the countries of the Orient ; or may live 
 in the tropics. We may see the great and good of all 
 lands ; though a moment ago we were in solitude. 
 Possessions may be ours, though we thought ourselves 
 in poverty ; for we may all have " Chateaux en 
 Espagne." Oh, I am glad I have some imagination ! 
 But I wish that it were more vivid and more culti- 
 vated ; for I need the balmy, spicy breeze from some 
 rare, strange country on my brow ; for my cheeks 
 flush and my tongue is parched sometimes with the 
 fever of loneliness and seclusion. So I am going to 
 try this fancy travelling to keep my spirits up ; for 
 sometimes of late the tears come to my eyes, I hardly 
 can tell why. But this complaint is most ungrateful ; 
 for blessings are showered upon me all the time : 
 though this touch of the minor key will steal into the 
 song of my life now and then. As it says in the 
 book I have been reading, we want to get Home more 
 than anything else. There are many who have no
 
 122 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 place they call " Home " ; yet I have one down here 
 in this world. But it is the eternal one, after all, that 
 will satisfy all our hungerings, and give us what we 
 are striving for, often in such odd ways. 
 
 " Oh for the peace which floweth as a river, 
 
 Making Life's desert-places bloom and smile ! 
 
 Oh ior a faifh to grasp heaven's bright ' for ever,' 
 
 Amid the shadows of earth's ' little while ' ! " 
 
 I am taking drawing lessons now. Not dull 
 houses, rocks, and rail-fences ; but human faces are 
 my patterns. I have a passion for this ; though not 
 much skill. Animals, too, I delight to sketch. I am 
 anticipating great pleasure from this occupation. 
 When I understand it better, I shall love the fair face 
 as it gradually comes into view. How sweet and 
 solemn it shall be ! Already a beautiful head is up 
 before my imagination ! Oh, those old masters ! No- 
 wonder that we almost worship them ; copying de- 
 voutly as they did from God's patterns, it seems to 
 make them almost divine. 
 
 How strange is the " Hereafter " to us all ! How 
 our hearts cry out when God leaves us in darkness as 
 to where our friends go when they die ; just as a child 
 does when its mother leaves it alone. Faith leads us 
 a little way. It tells us that the good are safe : but 
 where ? oh, where ? This is what we long to know ; 
 but it is one of the mysteries about which we must be 
 patient, I suppose.
 
 GOETHE'S CHARACTER. I2J 
 
 " Closer, closer, my steps 
 
 Come to the dark abysm ; 
 Closer death to my lips 
 Presses the awful chrism ! 
 
 1 Saviour ! perfect my trust ; 
 
 Strengthen my feeble faith : 
 Let me feel as I would when I stand 
 On the shore of the river of death 
 
 " Feel as I would when my feet 
 Are slipping over the brink ; 
 For it may be I 'm nearer home 
 Nearer now than I think ! " 
 
 September. I have been reading Lewes's " Life of 
 Goethe." He is a marvellous character. He is always 
 falling in love with some girl ; it does not seem to 
 make very much difference whom ; for he often leaves 
 one whom we should think he worshipped for another 
 in no respect more charming. However, he fell into 
 these sentimental states very naturally, I think ; and 
 out of them in the same manner. We should not 
 judge him harshly, since his constitution was so 
 peculiar. He was royally generous sometimes ; 
 though we cannot call him admirable in all respects. 
 It is pleasant to read of geniuses and of their friends. 
 We recognize in them the same longings that we have 
 felt in our own souls ; and this brings us nearer to 
 them. 
 
 Walking along the lake shore this evening, Frank and I 
 repeated those beautiful lines by Mrs. Margaret Preston, 
 " The Name in the Sand," and I know that we deeply felt
 
 124 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 their sweet and solemn meaning. I will write them 
 .here, as a memento of our evening stroll : 
 
 " Alone I walked the ocean strand, 
 A pearly shell was in my hand ; 
 I stooped and wrote upon the sand 
 
 My name, the year, the day : 
 As onward from the spot I passed, 
 One lingering look behind I cast ; 
 A wave came rolling high and fast, 
 
 And washed my lines away. 
 
 " And so methought, 'twill quickly be 
 With every mark on earth of me ! 
 A wave of dark oblivion's sea 
 
 Will sweep across the place 
 Where I have trod the sandy shore 
 Of time, and be to me no more 
 Of me, my day, the name I bore, 
 
 To leave no track or trace. 
 
 " And yet, with Him who counts the sands, 
 And holds the waters in His hands, 
 I know a lasting record stands 
 
 Inscribed against my name 
 Of all this busy hand hath wrought, 
 Of all this thinking soul hath thought, 
 And from these fleeting moments caught 
 For glory or for shame." 
 
 Sunday, September 29. Poor Rowena, who had 
 been sick so long, who had suffered so much, died at 
 one o'clock two mornings ago, with her head on her 
 father's breast. I feel lonely and unhappy. I have 
 little spirit to write, for I am thinking about Rowena, 
 and how all that is left of her is lying pale and cold 
 at her home ; where only a little while ago I talked 
 with her, and she answered me. The other members
 
 A MEMORY OF CHILDHOOD. 
 
 of the lamily have gone to attend her funeral ; and I 
 am here alone. I am ashamed to write it ; but the- 
 truth is, I was afraid to go. It is an unfortunate 
 trait of mine, that I have a great fear of all that 
 appertains to death especially a funeral. I have not 
 attended one since I was a little girl ; and I never 
 look at a corpse. I account for this peculiarity partly 
 from the fact, that, when I was about ten years old, I 
 saw a dead man in a linen shroud, " laid out " in the 
 terrific, heathenish way that was common then for 
 preparing people for burial. His face was oh, SO' 
 ghastly ! and his eyes were not quite closed. Every- 
 thing about him seemed calculated to excite terror. 
 How well I remember the wretched feeling I had 
 when night came ! I could not sleep ! though I 
 counted, and imagined sheep jumping over a fence 
 (some old lady having told me that was a sure way of 
 " getting into a drowse "). At last I was so nervous 
 that I could not endure it ; and not liking to disturb 
 Frank, who was asleep, I got up and went to father's 
 room, where he was sitting at his desk, writing. I 
 remember how bright and cozy everything seemed to 
 me there. He took me on his knee, and told me a 
 story ; then hummed some nursery tune to me until 
 I fell asleep ; and then laid me down beside my 
 sleeping sister. 
 
 Among all my friends who have died there is not 
 one whom I have gone to see for the " last time " ; 
 but I have always stayed at home and heard the
 
 126 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 mournful sound of the tolling bell, and thought that 
 bad enough. So now, when Rowena, whom I knew 
 so well and liked so much, is going to be buried, I 
 have stayed away. I wish that my nature were not 
 so peculiar in this. It is indeed a trial : for I must 
 either suffer great pain from this sensitiveness ; or 
 else I must overcome it which I fear would be im- 
 possible. I cannot see any philosophy in such a state 
 of mind as mine : for why should I be afraid of a 
 human body when the soul has left it, any more than 
 I am of the body of an animal ? I can only state the 
 fact, without attempting to account for it : so here I 
 am alone. After studying my Bible-lesson, I read one 
 of Dr. Bushnell's sermons. The subject was PATIENCE. 
 He showed how silent endurance of pain and 
 insult, without manifesting any feeling of anger or 
 desire for vengeance, are often more powerful in their 
 -effects than the most active arguments and exhorta- 
 tions in favour of religion ; that many who will brace 
 themselves against the latter will be conquered by the 
 influence of the former. 
 
 October." The Ruby Month." 
 
 The mellow, dreamy autumn days have come. I 
 revel in their luxuriance. The flame-coloured woods ; 
 the dropping nuts and acorns ; the ground covered 
 with fallen leaves ; and the pleasant smell of the earth 
 delight me ; and I am never so much in my element 
 as when in the groves. I am tempted to think that
 
 AUTUMN DAYS. I2/ 
 
 autumn is finer than spring ; pert, merry spring 
 though she be, my nature has more in common now 
 with the languor of the dying year. The season re- 
 minds me of our "Forest Home," of the quiet and 'lorn- 
 ness that it had in the " fall." In fancy, I see the dead 
 leaves strewing the front piazza and steps ; blown from 
 the great vine that threw its loving arms about the 
 house, and drooped so shelteringly around the cornei 
 by the parlour door. I imagine the trees in the 
 pasture with their brilliant leaves ; and pick up those 
 fresh, sweet-smelling hickory and hazel-nuts on the 
 great hill south of the house. I suppose it is pleas- 
 anter to imagine than it would be to behold : for 
 they say the vine is blown down ; and that many of 
 the trees those trees that towered up so grandly are 
 dead. 
 
 Nature looks at us seriously calmly ; like a strong 
 soul saying good-bye to life. The fruit is being 
 gathered ; choice plants are being taken out of the 
 ground and carried to the green-house. We hear the 
 notes of the wild geese ; and, looking up, see the long, 
 triangular-shaped company with the apex toward the 
 south ; and as the peculiar, indescribable sound is 
 heard, and I gaze upon the flying columns, my heart 
 aches and I wish that I were as free as those birds : 
 but I remember that by-and-by I shall be infinitely 
 more free than they. Up in the sky the shroud will 
 soon be woven that is to cover the earth. Death is 
 whispered of in every leaf; but we are not afraid,
 
 1.28 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 as when a human creature dies. Mrs. Stowe touches- 
 the difference in these words : " The human soul with 
 its awful shadow makes all things sacred " ; and, we 
 may add, the house in which we lived, although 
 deserted, wakens awe in our hearts, because its former 
 occupant was ever a mystery to us. But in nature 
 death is not repulsive ; it takes the form of rich 
 maturity. The acorns fall upon the roof and rattle 
 down its side wearily, as if glad to be so near their 
 rest ; and they lie quietly on the ground waiting for a 
 new life, as the dead among mortals lie before the re- 
 surrection. 
 
 Here followeth a statement of one of my likes^ 
 with illustrations to match : I like to hear one woman 
 praise and compliment another woman unreservedly, 
 if she deserves it ; and I like her to be in her heart 
 glad on account of the virtues and attractions of that 
 other. I admire a character strong and generous 
 enough to be delighted by the happiness of two per- 
 sons who love each other ; though he or she may be 
 at that time almost unloved. I believe this is the 
 grace of character which we all most need to cultivate 
 if we would be like Christ ; for it seems to involve all 
 other graces. I honour Will S. for manifesting so much 
 pride and interest in the success of his friend H.'s- 
 graduating oration, and seeming to think but little 
 about how his own was received. I look with awe 
 upon the unselfishness of mothers toward their 
 children : such self-forgetfulness as theirs is not of
 
 SYMPATHY AND KINDNESS. 129 
 
 this world, but comes down from God out of heaven. 
 The opposite side of this quality is equally beautiful, 
 I think : i.e., sorrowing for those who are in trouble, as 
 well as rejoicing in the joy of others; waiting for others 
 to " catch up," or, rather, turning to assist them for- 
 ward ; reaching down, from the summit which you 
 occupy, a loving, helpful hand to those less strong. I 
 shall never forget how, when I was a little girl and 
 a stupid one too, I blush to add my generous school- 
 mate Effie found the answers to the " review ques- 
 tions " in grammar ; and carefully put little papers in 
 the book to mark them for me. One remembers these 
 little unselfish actions so very long. We cannot help 
 noticing them, since the motive which prompts to 
 their performance is so widely at variance with our 
 unregenerate nature ; and since the action we think 
 purest and most beautiful in ourselves, oftentimes, if 
 we will closely examine its motive, proves to be like 
 a flower in the sand, planted with no root, in the weary 
 desert of self, and unperfumed by the odour that comes 
 from the skies. 
 
 " 'Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours ; 
 To ask them what report they bore to heaven, 
 And how they might have borne more welcome news." 
 
 To-day I made a sketch of a horse, which much 
 resembled that of Tarn O'Shanter when running for 
 dear life away from the witches. 
 
 If the "Country Parson"* is the standard, I am 
 
 * " Recreations of a Country Parson "
 
 I3O NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 an illustration of " veal ;" if Timothy Titcomb* speaks 
 truth, I am "green ;" if I know myself, I am not de- 
 cidedly either. (The train of thought which suggested 
 the above remark is best known to myself. Suffice it, 
 that an organ situated within the pericardium was the 
 engine?) 
 
 I will tell you what I like : a charitable person 
 one who takes broad views of things, so that 
 no matter to what church he may belong he looks 
 kindly, even lovingly, upon all other churches : re- 
 garding them as different vessels all bound for the same 
 port ; each going toward the same glorious objects, 
 Christ and heaven : one who looks unjudgingly 
 upon the sins of others, remembering his own, and 
 knowing that God alone can see the heart ; who will 
 freely acknowledge that he is in the wrong, if he feels 
 it to be true ; who is proud to beg any one's pardon 
 whom he has wronged (strange as it may seem, I have 
 heard persons boast that never in their lives had they 
 used those just and generous words : " I beg your 
 pardon ! ") ; who is never overcome by anger ; who 
 can speak calmly while others are raging with uncon- 
 trolled passion ; who is " wine instead of soda-water " 
 (to borrow a neat comparison) ; who almost always 
 does right, but who never talks about his wonderful 
 deeds and self-denials ; who teaches by example 
 more than by precept ; who lives out his belief ; who 
 is kind to children, and appreciates the needs of 
 
 * " Letters to Young People." By Timothy Titcomb.
 
 CONJECTURES. 13 r 
 
 young people. Whoever you are, if you answer to 
 this description, let me fall on my knees before you 
 and kiss your hand : which is more than I would do 
 to Queen Victoria, though I might thereby be ex- 
 cluded from the hope of ever being presented at the 
 Court of St. James's ! 
 
 I have been reading the Bible the Old Testa- 
 ment I like it very much ; but of course I read it 
 seldom compared with Christ's words, as recorded in 
 the New. As I read about the " daughters " I wonder 
 what kind of girls they were in those old, old times ; 
 and can hardly imagine them as real flesh, blood, and 
 bone, as girls are nowadays. Was Reuel's daughter, 
 Zipporah, very much in love with Moses, I wonder : 
 and did he say sweet things to her as Moseses do now ? 
 It seems very queer to me. If a " Miss " of those days 
 could have been preserved until now, young and 
 natural-looking if she could be introduced to a Miss 
 of our day, Georgia B. for instance, I wonder what they 
 would have to say to each other ? Would not the 
 contrast be amazing ? Would those ancient girls have 
 anything in common with us, I wonder ? But think 
 of it : there is a time coming when, relatively, we shall 
 be as old as they ! 
 
 Twilight. Have been out riding with Ellie S. : 
 kind reliable girl ! Had a pleasant time ; and we 
 talked of R. f I saw the carriage in which she used to 
 
 tSee pages 116 and 126. 
 
 I 2
 
 132 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 ride, with the horse she drove, standing before her 
 father's pleasant residence ; and was painfully reminded 
 that the former was for ever emptied of its accustomed 
 burden. I think of her to-night, with the rain falling 
 upon her grave. Alas that rain must some time fall 
 on all our graves ! 
 
 I wish that I knew who wrote " Even Me."* 
 Here are two verses from it, that go right to my 
 heart : 
 
 " Pass me not, O tender Saviour ; 
 Let me love and cling to Thee ! 
 I am longing for thy favour ; 
 When Thou callest, call for me: 
 Even me! 
 
 " Love of God, so pure and changeless ! 
 
 Blood of God, so rich and free ! 
 Grace of God, so strong and boundless ! 
 Magnify it all in me : 
 
 Even me!" 
 
 October 29. Just returned from a lecture by Dr. 
 Haven, author of the "Mental Philosophy " which was 
 our text-book in school. I was interested in what he 
 had to say. It was like a panorama passing before 
 us : the scene that he presented was so vivid and so 
 distinct I was charmed when he led us into the 
 ideal world into " Cloud Land," as he called it He 
 showed the manner in which it is connected with 
 poetry and art ; cheered us by saying that we were 
 by nature poets ourselves ; urged us to live more and 
 enjoy more by the contemplation of the Ideal. His 
 
 * This beautiful hymn was written by Mrs. Elizabeth Codner, an 
 English lady.
 
 THE BROTHER'S DEPARTURE. 
 
 mind seemed to be so full of originality that in all he 
 said it seemed most natural that he should say it ; so 
 that, instead of being surprised at his unique compari- 
 sons and beautiful flights of thought, we took them 
 as matters of course, and expected the next passage 
 to contain others equally good if not better. At the 
 close of the lecture an old man in the back part of the 
 house, who is a Quaker, said, in a loud voice, " Let us 
 pray ! " much to the astonishment of all present, 
 especially the lecturer. Although the time was in- 
 opportune, and although it seemed rather out of 
 taste that the Spirit should move him at that particu- 
 lar juncture, I was impressed by the tremor and 
 solemnity of his voice and his words, which seemed 
 almost inspired. I have seldom listened to a prayer 
 that seemed to come from a heart more truly in unison 
 with the mighty heart of God. 
 
 November 3. Oliver, dear kind boy, has just gone 
 away. His parting kiss is still fresh upon mother's 
 lips, and Frank's, and mine. I looked sadly after 
 him as he walked away through the grove ; for he 
 will never come to live at home again. His studies 
 are over ; and he is a minister now. God be very 
 merciful to him impress him with the sacredness ot 
 his office ! May he ever be as pure-hearted and as 
 good as now he seems to us ; may he ever walk in 
 the illuminated path made by the pitying, patient 
 Master, Christ !
 
 134 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 Night is coming the kind old nurse whose 
 head is grey with moonlight, and who so tenderly puts 
 the tired world to sleep. 
 
 November 9. The same quiet life goes on and on, 
 with no particular excitement to startle, and but 
 little loneliness to sadden ; a contented, medium 
 state of things. German lessons to be learned and 
 recited ; books to be read ; work to be done ; horses 
 to be ridden. Thus these autumn days glide away 
 into the ocean of all that is past ; and, before I am 
 aware, days that were future are rolling over my head 
 like billows. This serious time finds a little of the 
 same earnestness, I think, in me. I try to improve 
 the now as well, almost always, as I can. The 
 coming time stands just beyond, like a veiled nun, a 
 mysterious secret to me. Unlike most girls of my 
 age I have no plan of life, only a plan for each day as 
 it comes. 
 
 Evening. Just home from an evening walk ; during 
 a part of which business called me into several door- 
 yards, where I could not very well avoid making 
 
 observations. As I passed Mr. 's yard I saw 
 
 through the window several persons sitting around a 
 table : they seemed to be reading together. I recog- 
 nized Master , a good lad, with a broad, 
 
 confidential countenance ; and his sister, who is like 
 unto him. The scene was quite a pleasant one. 
 Cowper would have written a poem about it ; but
 
 A FAMILY SKETCH. 135 
 
 that is hardly in my line. There sat the family as 
 contented and happy in each other as a king's might 
 be far happier than that of our honest, anxious 
 President, Abraham Lincoln. They live pleasantly 
 together, strong in their mutual love and confidence. 
 What would you more ? 
 
 I peeped into Mrs. B.'s sitting-room window as I 
 passed, and she vouchsafed me a gracious nod. She 
 sat by herself sewing. Her husband, " the Doctor," 
 was in the library ; very natural it was that a scholar, 
 such as he is, should be there. But I wondered if, 
 when his wife was a beautiful, loving girl, and when 
 he looked down into her face so tenderly with his 
 manly brown eyes, they used to think that life would 
 ever be practical with them ! No, it did not come to 
 their minds. Yet now she sat alone with her work 
 while Johnnie lay in the cradle near her, with her two 
 little girls sleeping in the next room, her son Henry 
 upstairs studying his lessons for to-morrow. Her 
 eldest daughter, Mary, is a young lady with an eager, 
 hopeful heart, as her mother's was once, and a loving 
 heart too perhaps that is the best of all ! But how 
 romance melts into reality, like the rosy sunset clouds 
 into rain ! 
 
 I have been reading "Aurora Leigh." The divine 
 of Mrs. Browning's nature shines out in every line. 
 
 When will a change come to my life? Some 
 time it must Yet I shuddered this afternoon when I 
 thought I should be twenty some time that I, who
 
 I3 6 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 have had no care nor trouble, must bear the one great 
 burden, dent//, with no human hand to help me : I, as 
 well as the holiest being that has everlived : I, as well as 
 the wisest being who has ever thought, the most patient 
 who has ever suffered. How awful ! But 
 
 Tuesday morning. What a happy, tread-mill life is 
 mine ! I know nothing about the exciting, whirling 
 scenes in the " great world " ; nor do I covet such 
 knowledge. Evanston seems like a book that I am to 
 read through and through, a kind of story with a very 
 long moral : and though it is interesting, yet one can- 
 not help being tired sometimes ; for even if a thing be 
 very good, it is yet possible to get too much of the 
 same article, I suppose, as far as sublunary matters 
 are concerned ! 
 
 December 20. Something new to tell ! Aunt S. has 
 come. And we are quite vivified by her presence. 
 She brought some pictures, taken at an early stage in 
 the history of her Western nieces. In Frank's 
 " counterfeit presentment " the expression is what that 
 of Atlas might have been if he had hired somebody to 
 hold up the world just fora minute or two, while he ran 
 in and "sat for a daguerreotype." Such care, such 
 weariness, such lowliness of spirit, as are depicted in 
 her countenance I have not seen in many a day ; and 
 I am happy to say I look in vain to find traces of them 
 in her face at the date of this writing. Did you ever 
 see yourself in the oval part, outside of a spoon; or
 
 THE CLOSING YEAR. 137 
 
 in a new tin pan ? If so, you may know that the 
 contour of your face as therein rendered was not un- 
 like that of mine at the age of seven ! 
 
 December 31, 1861. The last day of the year! 
 Without much reflection, and with but few twinges of 
 pain, I have seen this day pass by. For the last 
 twelvemonths I have had reason for nothing but thank- 
 fulness. No troubles worth mentioning have mingled 
 with the brimming cup of happiness which has been 
 pressed to my willing lips. All this kindness has my 
 Father showed to one who has done many wicked, 
 thoughtless, deeds in eighteen hundred and sixty-one; 
 for all of which she is heartily sorry this night. To- 
 morrow begins the beautiful New Year, in which no 
 child of Eve has ever sinned. But 
 
 " The slime from the muddy banks of Time " 
 
 will soon be upon its spotless robes. I do not feel 
 like making any resolutions for this new year. I can 
 pray to be kept in the right path one day at a time. 
 
 \Remark. It is a significant fact that in the above 
 instance Mary departed from a time-honoured custom 
 of hers in making no resolutions on the last day of 
 the year. The foregoing passage, with several others, 
 written during the last year of her life, comes with the 
 force of a prophecy to our hearts, now that we see 
 * the end from the beginning."] 
 
 January 5> 1862. I have been impatient once 
 already this morning ; and I am sorry, for I hoped to
 
 138 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 be good through the whole day. God forgive me, 
 and help me for the rest of the time ! 
 
 Father and mother were talking last night about 
 our little sister who died many years before I was 
 born ; and I was " led to think " (as Mr. F. says in 
 class-meeting) what kind of a young lady she would 
 be now if she had lived no longer my little sister 
 but the grown-up, eldest girl. Let me see I think 
 she would have been very beautiful and talented (it is 
 not undue " family pride " to say this, since she is 
 dead) ; for she was the first already, though she died 
 before she was two years old, and she showed as 
 many symptoms of the latter gift as a baby could. 
 When they took her out to ride, mother says she 
 would scream and clap her hands with delight ; while 
 ordinary babies, she added (and I felt bound to sup- 
 pose that I had belonged to that class, since I still 
 lived !), never did anything of the kind, but were 
 stupid and sleepy little animals on most occasions. 
 
 Well, my sister Carrie would have been tall and 
 graceful, no doubt, with a sweet face and winning 
 ways ; with pretty hands like mother's, and a small 
 foot such as father has. I am sure there would have 
 been a wedding in the house before this time, if she 
 had lived ; for some noble man would without doubt 
 have loved our beautiful eldest born. I think she 
 would have been proud of her brother Oliver ; con- 
 fidential toward her sister Frank ; and probably she 
 would have liked and advised me, though I should
 
 A SLEIGH RIDE. 139 
 
 never have felt it my duty to obey her, I am sure. I 
 think she would not have expected me to do so. 
 Carrie ! How strange and unfamiliar the name 
 sounds to me : for we always speak of her as " the little 
 girl that died." It is very pleasant to think that she 
 carried her name unsullied to the skies, as none of 
 mother's " grown-up children " ever may. There is 
 another of our band, who died unnamed two sisters 
 in heaven, two on earth. Oh, may we meet, among 
 the angels on the other shore, our long-lost stranger 
 sisters ! May the same kind Hand that guided them 
 safely over the river, with their untried baby feet, 
 guide us as safely ; for beside that dark and unknown 
 stream we shall find ourselves no stronger than they. 
 
 Frank and I went out for a sleigh-ride to-day, 
 driving Jack ourselves. Dear old horse ! there is a 
 peculiar feeling in my heart toward you. I think of 
 you almost as of a human being ; you have been a 
 faithful helper of ours so long ever since I can re- 
 member. What a dashing young steed you were 
 years ago, with your shiny coat and fiery Morgan 
 blood ! But that is past, and you are decidedly on 
 the down-hill side of life now. If you were sick I 
 would feel it a pleasure to hold your head on my lap, 
 and to look into your great, sorrowful eyes. If horses 
 have a heaven, I am sure you will be the chief angel 
 in it ; and I cannot help hoping that the mysterious 
 God who made us both will send both into happiness, 
 and that I may see your faithful old face again ; when
 
 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 the veil of flesh is lifted, and spirit comprehends spirit. 
 Perhaps then I may learn the secret of your silent, 
 uncomprehended life on earth. I like to think that all 
 your work and weariness have not been in vain, but 
 that you are to enter upon a life where you will have 
 no heavy burdens to bear where there will be no 
 chafing bit nor stinging blow ; no hungriness nor thirst 
 Poor Jack ! your young mistress believes there is good 
 in store for you beyond the ways of horses and of 
 men ! 
 
 While arranging some old books to-day I came 
 across a Mitchell's Geography that I used to study in 
 Mrs. H.'s school. I would not have believed then, that 
 now I should think of those days with such a tender 
 feeling toward their memory, and with so much regret 
 that I shall never be a child again never, never ! 
 
 It seems strange to me that, with such a hollow on my 
 head where the " bump " of reverence should have 
 been, I find I have so much of that sentiment for 
 mother and all pertaining to her. On a little fancy- 
 basket, given to me by a playmate ever so many years 
 ago, was tied a narrow ribbon, over a place where one 
 or two straws were broken. My aunt, in her neat way, 
 untied it this morning, saying, " Oh, I 'd have that off ; 
 it is so faded now " : and she threw it upon the floor. 
 When she did not see me, I slily picked up the 
 despised piece of ribbon and put it in my pocket. I 
 remembered that mother tied it on the basket when I 
 was her little girl : so I had not the heart to throw 
 it away.
 
 DESIRE FOR TRAVEL. I4 1 
 
 My brave cousins, M. and EL, are educating their 
 younger sisters. As I think of their patience and; 
 heroism, my heart says : " My cousins, I respect you 
 more than words can tell for your self-devotion \ 
 though the cares you have assumed have led you to. 
 maturity so young, so pitifully young." 
 
 Of late I hunger and thirst after the beautiful, as 
 displayed in nature and in art. I wish so much to- 
 see for myself what I read about so often in books. I 
 am becoming lawless in my eagerness to travel. 
 Though the prospect of attaining my object is at pre- 
 sent meagre, yet I am bold to say that Europe is 
 in my life-programme. Please, God, let me see it ! 
 
 Sometimes I can almost understand how it is 
 that ignorant people, whose lives have been full of 
 hardships, think that they shall not be denied en- 
 trance when they knock at the gate of the city of 
 God ; for they think of their bare and bleeding feet 
 so tender when they started on the path of life and 
 hope that because they have suffered so much He 
 will receive them. But however natural this might 
 seem to an unenlightened mind, we know " it is 
 Christ who hath died " for our salvation ; and in Him 
 alone can we with safety trust. 
 
 " Let me be one 
 Of all the sinless company 
 That round Thy throne hosannas sing 
 
 Through Christ Thy Son ! " 
 
 I have been reading the second instalment of
 
 142 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 Miss Harding's " Story of To-day." It seemed as 
 though each sentence of her strong and passionate 
 writing were a wrench drawing up the lax strings of 
 my being into harmony with those of the wretched 
 people whose miseries she describes. " The cry of 
 the human " is very distinct in this woman's voice ; 
 and it will be heard and heeded, I am sure. She 
 makes me feel more like helping those who need help 
 than ever before. 
 
 The weather is mild already. The sunbeams are 
 no longer cold white lines of light, but are growing 
 warm and mellow. The things of nature seem whis- 
 pering among themselves that it is time to prepare for 
 the new spring that is coming up from the south. 
 And those delicious pictures, painted in green and blue, 
 that in a few more weeks will be shown to us, are 
 -already seen in my eager fancy's eye. 
 
 To-day we have had glorious news from the army. 
 Fort Donelson has been taken by our forces under 
 General Grant ! The thrill that has pierced the heart 
 of the whole North at such cheering intelligence 
 reached my quiet home, and my rather stupid self ; and 
 three distinct chills have gone over me as, joining with 
 Frank, I have given three uproarious hurrahs (! ! !) for our 
 Western troops and the laurels they have won ! 
 
 February. Last night there was a fire in our quiet, 
 *' Thorpish " town. How strange I felt when I was 
 wakened by the quick, sharp ding, ding, ding of the
 
 AN ALARM OF FIRE. 143 
 
 College bell ! An awful shudder went over me. We 
 sprang up and went to the window, where we saw a sight 
 that seemed to me not unlike that which the Day of 
 Judgment will present. The heavens glowed with a 
 pale, red light ; the snow was of a dull amber colour ; 
 while, not far off, we could see rising above the roofs of 
 intervening houses columns of flame with sparks and 
 smoke, all looking as if they might proceed from the 
 bottomless pit. Tongues of flame licked the air on all 
 sides with a fiendish satisfaction ; while out of the 
 night hateful voices yelled " Fire ! fire ! " Every fibre 
 of my being seemed thoroughly disturbed. I think 
 nothing horrifies me more than a fire in the night ; 
 with its awful accompaniments of shrieks and scream- 
 ing bells ! 
 
 This morning we heard that two poor cows were 
 burned to death. I felt sorry for them, poor dumb 
 creatures that had to die so silently, with no power to 
 summon help. My aunt says, "Do not fret about 
 them ; but imagine that they have gone to the cows' 
 heaven." 
 
 I have been reading that soothing, pleasant book 
 of Mountford's, entitled " Thorpe : A quiet English 
 Town, and Human Life therein." It says many 
 things I should be sorry to forget. Here is a senti- 
 ment from it that I think very just : " If we knew 
 each other better it would not be to love each other 
 less but rather, more tenderly." In a great many 
 instances I am sure that this is true. We do not seek
 
 144 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 to conceal our worst qualities alone but also many 
 of our very best Who tells of all his good resolves,, 
 his secret struggles to overcome his faults, his 
 thoughts of aspiration ? There are deeps in our souls 
 from out which no voice comes for others to hear,, 
 and down into which we seldom look ourselves ; but 
 often they are filled with what is best and purest. 
 
 March 5. This is my birthday anniversary. I am 
 nineteen. The future looks very dark to me. I make 
 no plans. But the dear Father whose hand has rested 
 in blessing on my head during these many years will 
 surely not desert me now. So I am not very much 
 afraid : only I think with great wonder, once in a- 
 while, what is to be my lot in life ? 
 
 S., who is only a few months my senior, was here 
 this morning. In her quick way she said : " Do you 
 know I think ' nineteen ' is pretty old ! " Some 
 such idea had been skulking about in my own mind. 
 And yet it is a beautiful age, if one could stay there 
 more than just a year ; but the next thing comes 
 " twenty," pouncing upon one in such a sudden way 
 that it is really quite overwhelming ; and after that, 
 ghosts of old maids come grinning at you on every 
 side, that might have been dear, kind spirits were it 
 not that Public Opinion has abused and tabooed them, 
 and splintered all their joints, so that they are as 
 awkward as snow-shoes in a parlour. The few how- 
 ever who are strong enough to survive all this, and to
 
 A COURSE OF READING. 145 
 
 stand firm and keep brave hearts, are among the un- 
 acknowledged heroines of whom the world is full. 
 
 I am now studying General History, and reading 
 D'Aubign6's " History of the Reformation ;" besides 
 Mrs. Jameson's " Italian Artists," and Agassiz and 
 Gould's Zoology. Every week we have " Art Talks " 
 with Mrs. T. ; which are very entertaining as well as 
 valuable to us. 
 
 I have just finished Mrs. Stowe's " Sunny 
 Memories of Foreign Lands," and am left in a 
 bewildered state, just as I am after going through the 
 exercise known as " making a cheese," so common 
 among damsels. Such a maze of brilliancy and 
 grandeur as she has led me through ! Such great 
 people as she has introduced me to ! I am quite 
 gorged with the titles of Baron, Duke, and Count ; 
 so that plain " Mrs." and " Esquire " are all that my 
 surfeited taste desires. To read this book is like having 
 a kaleidoscope before one's eyes ; and to lay it down 
 is like putting aside the magical instrument when 
 every thing that meets .the eye seems for a while 
 faded and plain. 
 
 March 2 1. This morning has been the most glorious 
 of my life : not within ; but the grand dawning of the 
 natural day. When I awoke and looked out at my 
 window, the trees that usually rise far above it were 
 bent down almost to the ground ; and every branch and 
 twig was loaded with the purest, powdered snow. It 
 
 K
 
 146 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 seemed as though the elements had been preparing 
 for the Ice King's last and grandest leve"e. The long 
 branches of a tree opposite mother's windows were 
 tugged down to the ground, and thatched with snow, 
 until within them a beautiful arbour was formed. All 
 the slender young saplings were transformed into 
 weeping willows, in figure. The rough outline of the 
 garden fence was softened and beautified by sweeping 
 folds of white ; and the ugly, ill-shaped weight that 
 keeps the gate closed was a cushion more dainty than 
 the one that my friend Mattie S. made for her sister 
 on her wedding-day, though that we regarded as a 
 marvel of its kind. All the plain, every-day things 
 were garnished and disguised so that we could hardly 
 recognize them as connected with the place in which 
 we lived. 
 
 But soon the Sun came peering about, seeming to 
 look as curiously upon what had been done in his 
 absence as we did ourselves. I think he should have 
 been half-ashamed : men do so pride themselves upon 
 their lack of curiosity ! At last, as if angry to think 
 that such liberties had been taken in his absence, he 
 waxed very red in the face, insomuch that the sight of 
 him caused the delicate finery of Dame Nature to shrivel 
 into fragments before our disappointed eyes. Thus 
 have I acquitted myself of a " bit of description ! " 
 
 Have we not learned a formula which we use often 
 thoughtlessly in prayer ? How far is this from obedi- 
 ence to the command, " Pray without ceasing ! "
 
 CONTRASTS IN PRAYER. 147 
 
 Docs not that prayer reach heaven soonest, in which, 
 from an agonized heart, comes the earnest supplication : 
 *' O God ! please do " ? instead of words like these : 
 <( Thou all-powerful One, who dost dwell among the 
 mysteries of eternity, we beseech of Thee that Thou 
 wouldst vouchsafe unto us of Thy great goodness this 
 desire of our hearts " ? Do not we forget the wish in 
 the words then ? Does not the minister in the pulpit 
 sometimes think more of his audience than of the 
 Almighty even if he is a minister ? But in reality 
 do we not prefer childlike earnestness of petition to 
 high-sounding eulogy on the attributes of our Creator ? 
 Is not the broken, heart-felt prayer more to our taste 
 leaving out other considerations for the moment 
 than the rhetorical prayer ? 
 
 What is the reason that when I go to church and 
 put my head down as the minister says, " Let us 
 pray," I try to make myself comfortable ; am careful 
 not to dent my forehead on the back of the seat 
 before me ; and am not thinking much about the words 
 that are in my ears? Only I never fail to hear the 
 41 Amen," and to feel rather relieved when it comes. 
 I acknowledge that this arises partly from my own 
 wickedness : but is not some of the blame to be 
 lodged elsewhere? I cannot help thinking so. A 
 friend of mine has told me that once, when she wanted 
 something very much, and was in great suffering, she 
 exclaimed, at the close of her brief, incoherent prayer : 
 *' O God, you do not know any thing about it ; but 
 
 K 2
 
 148 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 Christ does ! " Perhaps she did wrong to say so 
 then ; but I do not think she meant it : so it is not 
 written down against her in the great Book, I hope. 
 I pray to Christ most ; and yet it is really God 
 whom I address the Christ part of God : not His 
 justice, not His wrath ; but the mercy and love that 
 also dwell in Him. 
 
 March 29. To-night I went to the Junior Exhibition 
 of the University. As I sat there, I looked over the 
 congregation, and saw many whom I believed to be 
 my friends. I thought very kindly and pleasantly of 
 them all, and felt thankful to God for them. I liked 
 to see them so well, that I was sorry when the exercises 
 were over, and we went forth into the ghostliness and 
 darkness of the night. 
 
 I do not feel well. I am so tired of late.
 
 Inbalfli* 
 
 " Perhaps healthy self-possession and self-control were to be hers no 
 more ; perhaps that world the strong and prosperous live in had already 
 rolled from beneath her feet for ever : so, at least, it often seemed to us 
 now." CHARLOTTE BRONT. 
 
 " O sunshine and fair earth ! 
 
 Sweet is your kindly mirth : 
 Angel of death yet, yet awhile delay ! 
 
 Too sad it is to part, 
 
 Thus in my spring of heart, 
 With all the light and laughter of the day. 
 
 " Too soon, too fast thou'rt come ! 
 
 Too beautiful is home 
 A home of gentle voices and kind eyes ! 
 And I the loved of all, 
 On whom fond blessings fall 
 From every lip oh, wilt thou rend such ties ? " 
 
 MRS. HEMANS. 
 
 WE come now to the last act in the little drama 
 of Mary's life. It has but two Scenes : 
 and of these, the second contains that Tragedy which 
 attends every life, however simple and unpretending it 
 may be the Tragedy of Death. 
 
 When the spring days came on, and nature wore
 
 ISO NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 again the fair, familiar look that Mary loved, a lassi- 
 tude crept over her, strange and painful to behold. 
 
 Away through the trees the waters of Lake Michi- 
 gan flashed in the sunshine ; she watched them idly, 
 sitting by the window in her easy-chair, but felt no 
 disposition for the run or the brisk walk down to the 
 pebbly shore, which had always been a favourite 
 pastime with her until now. Often she held a book 
 in her hand ; but mostly with her fingers between the 
 leaves, while, with eyes gazing far off, she mused upon 
 who shall say what ? The pensive expression that 
 stole over her face gave to our anxious hearts their 
 only clue. 
 
 " I 'm tired ! " These words were often on her lips : 
 beyond them she made no complaint. 
 
 But soon the disease that had long been lurking in 
 her delicate frame manifested itself in a manner that 
 was unmistakable ; and bright red spots upon the 
 sufferer's neck showed where " counter irritants " had 
 been applied to relieve internal inflammation. A few 
 days passed, when she reluctantly admitted that she 
 did not feel able to sit up beyond the hours of morn- 
 ing ; though she continued to make her toilet in the 
 neat and tasteful way which was habitual to her, and 
 sometimes whiled away an hour by reading. She had 
 recently pencilled some heads of the Reformers 
 Luther, Knox, and Latimer, from a book of beautiful 
 engravings. These she retouched with much care. 
 She seemed unusually fond of listening to hymns ;
 
 INCREASING WEAKNESS. IS 1 
 
 especially to some of those sweet, familiar ones which 
 are found in the later Sabbath-school Collections. 
 
 " Saviour, like a Shepherd lead us," 
 
 and 
 
 " We 're homeward bound,' 
 
 were favourites, I remember. 
 
 A few brief entries from her Journal will be given 
 at this point : 
 
 April 7. I write while lying on the bed ; not very 
 sick, but feeling weak and tired. I have chills often ; 
 and after them I am feverish. Mother seems anxious, 
 though without need, I think ; and is almost constantly 
 doing something to make me better. Father, Aunt S., 
 and Frank are very thoughtful and gentle with me ; 
 so that it is almost a pleasure to be sick, since sickness 
 shows me more clearly than I could see if in health 
 what loving friends God has given me. When I feel 
 so faint as I have for the last few weeks, I can quite 
 appreciate Aunt S.'s longing for " the Sunniest of all 
 Climates," which cures every one who goes to it ; 
 where there are no sombre days like this, and never 
 any winter. But when I am better again the old love 
 of life returns, and the weather ceases to have such an 
 influence upon me. 
 
 Last evening F. read aloud to us a sketch of the 
 Life of Lady Jane Grey. When she came to the 
 description of that terrible execution, the tears were in 
 my eyes though that is rare. Nothing of which I have
 
 15" NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 read in history, even the account of Louis XVI. and his 
 family, has seemed more pitiful to me than these words 
 of Lady Jane as, blindfolded, she gropes for the block, 
 murmuring : " Where is it ? What shall I do ? " 
 
 Oh, Christ was by her side : for without Him who 
 can meet death with calmness ? 
 
 Just now, when Frank was playing and singing so 
 cheerfully out in the sitting-room, this thought came 
 over me: Perhaps she will always be the healthy, 
 happy one ; while I shall be an invalid. 
 
 April 10. How the tides of life ebb and flow! 
 Strange, shapeless thoughts flit through my mind 
 coming I know not whence, going I know not where : 
 glimpses of a purer realm than ours a more exalted 
 life than mine. I wish that I could keep them 
 longer. 
 
 ****** 
 
 April ii. Mother is so wonderfully unselfish in her 
 devotion to me, now I am sick, that I cannot help 
 noticing it, even in her. To-day she thinks me better ; 
 though I am still very weak. As I was lying here 
 awhile ago, the thought of the silence of God came to 
 me with great force. How patiently He waits for 
 <l His own good time " ; sees His laws broken all over 
 the world, and the fiendish tyranny of human beings ! 
 The cry of the wretched and oppressed reaches His 
 attentive ear ; but He is silent amidst it all ! And
 
 LAST WORDS IN THE DIARY. 153 
 
 yet we who love and trust Him know full well that 
 God's day is marching on ! 
 
 These were the last lines she ever wrote. Her 
 disease became more violent For seven weeks her 
 veins burned and her lips were parched with fever. 
 In the first week of the seven, she had a very severe 
 attack of pain, greater than she had suffered in her 
 life before. Her plaintive moans were piteous to hear. 
 By the use of ether she was finally relieved ; when, 
 lying back among the pillows with an unnatural ex- 
 pression on her face, she said : 
 
 " O Frank ! were you not very much frightened ? 
 Did you not think perhaps I might die right off! 
 Did you not pray ? " 
 
 When told that we had not thought her in danger, 
 she exclaimed : 
 
 " But oh, I was in danger. If I am so again, be 
 sure to pray ! You won't forget ? " 
 
 And now the wish to visit her old home in Wiscon- 
 sin became her ruling passion. It was her chief topic 
 of conversation when she should go, and how. She 
 was fond of recalling memories of our childhood. 
 Most of her conversations with me were begun with 
 the words : " Don't you remember ? " And then 
 would follow some incident of our life as little girls. 
 
 " Now talk about going to ' Forest Home ' ! " she 
 would say, nestling among the pillows and looking at 
 the flowers she held herself as fair as they with the
 
 154 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 bright hectic flush on her cheeks, and the brilliant, 
 new light in her eyes. Then would follow an ani- 
 mated conversation concerning the dress she would 
 wear ; the train she would take ; the kindly greeting 
 she would receive from Mr. and Mrs. R., father':; 
 tenants on the old farm ; the pleasant occupations 
 she would have when there. She liked to talk 
 about the river, how blue it was, and how silently its 
 waters glided away toward the south ; about the trees 
 and how much taller they would look than when she 
 saw them last. She had a slate and pencil brought,, 
 that she might amuse herself by making little sketches 
 of scenes familiar to her there ; but her hands 
 trembled so much that she " could not make the lines 
 come straight," she said. When father came home 
 from the city at night, she would grasp his hand and 
 say : " Don't you think that I look better ? I have 
 been very careful all day, and have obeyed every one 
 of the doctor's orders. Can't I go to * Forest Home ' 
 in a week from now ? Carry me on a bed : I don't 
 care how I go ; for I think it would make me well 
 again just to breathe the air that made me feel so 
 strong and happy when I was a little girl." 
 
 Her talk suggested to us, many times, these lines of 
 Tennyson's : 
 
 " Oh look ! the sun begins to rise, the heavens are in a glow ; 
 He shines upon a hundred fields, and all of them I know ; 
 And there I move no longer now, and there his light may shine 
 Wild flowers in the valley for other hands than mine. " 
 
 Often, when it grew late in the afternoon, she
 
 THE APPROACHING END. 155 
 
 would listen for " father's train " as she called it ; and 
 when the whistle sounded she would ask us to cool 
 her crimson cheeks with water, saying : " Somehow 
 these discourage father ; he lays his hand against 
 them, and shakes his head. If we can get some of 
 the colour out he won't be so much worried." 
 
 She liked to hear a little reading every day from 
 the Bible. " Please read my chapters," she would say ;. 
 " two from the New Testament, one from the Old." 
 
 We have shown, by extracts from her Journal, 
 that death, and everything connected with it, was 
 always a terror to Mary. This peculiarity was in 
 marked contrast with the singularly religious and 
 trusting character of her mind. Anxious to avoid 
 giving her needless pain, we concealed our suspicions 
 of her danger, and spoke hopefully of her recovery. 
 We knew that she was ready for whatever God would. 
 send upon one who had always been a loving and 
 obedient child toward Him. 
 
 So day after day passed, the fever raging, the 
 cough growing more violent. It was a study of" 
 thrilling interest to watch the refining of every sense 
 the ethereal purity of her wasting face. ( 
 
 The fresh air pouring through an open window 
 would exhilarate her almost beyond what she was 
 able to bear. " Oh, this air ! it is like Heaven ! " she 
 sometimes said. The taste of a strawberry often 
 made her exclaim with delight. Once, when some-
 
 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 remarkably fine ones were sent to her, she held up the 
 largest a splendid " Triomphe de Gand " and said, 
 as she looked at it admiringly : 
 
 " See, mother ! And think of all the warm days and 
 the sunshine that God sent to make the berry ripe and 
 red ! I should not wonder if He remembered a poor, 
 
 sick girl named Mary , and meant that it should 
 
 be for her. Is not that a pleasant thought ! " 
 
 The exquisite perfume of a rose would bring tears 
 of joy into her eyes. "Come and see! oh, mother! 
 smell this flower ! " she would exclaim, sinking among 
 the pillows, faint with the shock to her strangely 
 acute sense. 
 
 " I want always to be a child. In heaven I should 
 like to be a child-angel ! " she exclaimed one day, 
 after remaining silent for a long time. 
 
 " Why, I thought you were quite proud of being a 
 young lady," said her mother ; " and you have tried 
 to become intelligent, and to prepare yourself for the 
 society of refined, ' grown-up ' people." 
 
 " Oh yes, I know," wearily replied the girl, keeping 
 fast to the wish of her reverie ; " but of late it seems 
 to me so sweet to be a child. You know what 
 pleasant times we had. How well I like to think of 
 the ' Indian summer ' days, when the woods were so 
 golden and the distance so blue ! Do you remember 
 the plaintive little song of the mourning dove in the 
 trees near the Big Ravine ? It would make me cry, I 
 think, to hear it now."
 
 SICK AND SUFFERING. 157 
 
 She often asked us to tell her " the news about the 
 war." 
 
 " We must pray for the soldiers," she said, 
 " especially for those who are sick. I can sympathize 
 with them. But oh, it hurts me to think of the poor 
 suffering men who are far away from their wives and 
 daughters ; or the boys who have not their mothers to 
 take care of them. I have several friends who do all 
 they can for me ; and yet sometimes, these long, hot 
 days, I find it very hard to be sick." 
 
 Her rings fell off one day, so thin were her fingers 
 now. 
 
 " Put them away, mother : or let Frank wear them 
 till I get well again," she said, in a cheerful tone. 
 
 When awake, she was always perfectly natural ; 
 but in sleep her mind wandered, and she seemed to 
 think aloud. 
 
 On the last Sabbath night of her life she requested 
 mother to go away to another part of the house where 
 she could rest undisturbed, and me to stay by her side. 
 Bidding mother good-night, she said : 
 
 " Now lie down, and go to sleep as peacefully as 
 though I were not in the world." 
 
 A few minutes afterward she said, in a drowsy 
 voice, " Are you with me in the trundle-bed, Frank ? 
 and is the pretty, starred quilt over us ? " In fancy 
 she was a child again ; and surroundings long forgotten 
 were about her once more. 
 
 A little later she moaned out :
 
 I5 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 " Don't you hear those strange beings flying in the 
 air, slowly, slowly ? I 'm so tired. I want to go 
 away into their sleep." 
 
 During the evening I had talked with her about 
 her scholars in Sunday-school, and had suggested 
 that she should send a message to them, as she had 
 not seen some of them for several weeks ; none save 
 her nearest friends being admitted to her sick-room. 
 
 That night the subject was in her dreams. At first 
 she seemed talking to herself : 
 
 " What can I say that will be of any use ? " she 
 murmured. "I'll talk to Emma. She is not a Christian ; 
 and yet I know she thinks a great deal about God, 
 and the duty that she owes to Him." 
 
 She was silent for a few minutes ; and then, imagin- 
 ing her pupil, a very intelligent and interesting girl, 
 to be present, she said, in a voice inexpressibly sweet 
 and serious : 
 
 " Emma, I hope you remember your promise to 
 read the Bible ; to pray ; and to be good. Don't 
 think too much about this changing world down here, 
 but about that wonderful, wonderful world where 
 God lives ! Remember that where your treasure 
 is your heart will be ; so you can easily tell whether 
 you are right or not. * * * * There 1 she is gone. 
 I wonder if I vexed her ? Was I too hortatory, 
 Frank ? " 
 
 Waking then, she said : " Why, she isn't here ! Was 
 it a dream ? "
 
 GROWING CONFIDENCE. 159 
 
 Two or three days before she went away from us 
 she looked up suddenly, when we were alone together, 
 and said : " If mother died, should not you want to 
 die too ? " and receiving for an answer : " I should like 
 to do so at any time, if I felt perfectly sure of 
 heaven," she said, with the bright, peculiar look that she 
 always wore when she had something very pleasant 
 to tell, " Well, do you know it has come to me lately, 
 that if I died I should go right to heaven ! " 
 
 This was more than she had ever before declared 
 with confidence. Full of humility in her religious 
 life, as in all other things, she looked tremblingly 
 toward her Saviour ; and, though hoping in His love, 
 so keen was her sense of her own imperfections that 
 she had not the perfect assurance so often and so 
 truthfully expressed among Christians. 
 
 She seemed in haste to recover, that she might be 
 useful to those around her. Such words as these 
 were often on her lips : " I should like to be well, if 
 only for one day, so that I might do good to some- 
 one. I have never helped anybody yet, unless one 
 or two of my Sunday-school class ; and I am not 
 sure about that." 
 
 The loving nature which was hers was most 
 strikingly shown in the words and actions of these 
 last days. Reticent and undemonstrative when in 
 health, the feelings of affection that always glowed in 
 her heart for her friends were now permitted to have 
 full sway. Their kindness in sending her bouquets,
 
 l6o NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 fruits, and messages, impressed her deeply. " How- 
 good every one is ! " she said. " If I were a queen 
 there could be nothing more done to comfort 
 me. Oh. humanity, humanity ! It is wonderful to- 
 me!" 
 
 When her friends sat down beside her she would 
 slip her little, hot hand into theirs, saying sometimes, 
 with a smile : " Do you love me ? Father, mother, 
 please tell me often : I like to hear the words." 
 
 Once, upon leaving the room, her father took up a 
 pretty, white kitten, with whose frolicsome ways she 
 had been amused, and carried it out, gently stroking 
 its fur. Mary turned toward me and said : " It is 
 foolish, I suppose ; but I can't help envying the little 
 cat every caress that father gives to it." 
 
 A friend who was about leaving town came in to 
 say Good-bye. 
 
 " Mother, she kissed me last, and so much longer 
 than she did any one else ; what was that for ? " said 
 Mary ; and she wept bitterly, for the first and last 
 time while she was ill. She must have then surmised 
 that she was thought to be in danger, though she did 
 not ask again ; and no reference to the subject was 
 afterward made until the last hour of her life. 
 
 At the suggestion of a friend a simple remedy was 
 employed, which relieved her very much ; and, as 
 Mary thought, made her speedy recovery certain. 
 
 "Now, when you are well again I shall feel very 
 proud ! " said the friend, playfully. " Oh no," she
 
 REST COTTAGE, EVANSTON, ILLINOIS.
 
 LAST DAY ON EARTH. l6l 
 
 answered, looking up in gentle reproof, " You did 
 not save me : it was God." 
 
 " Am I patient ? " she asked ; "do I take my 
 medicine pleasantly?" She grew more thoughtful 
 and considerate each day. 
 
 But her time of trial was soon to end. Two days 
 before she left us she said, speaking of her physician, 
 in whom she had perfect confidence : " I like him 
 very much ; but I don't need him any more : please 
 ask him not to come I'm getting well." 
 
 And now her last day upon earth was passing 
 quietly away, although during its morning hours we 
 thought her better, and felt less than our usual con- 
 cern. She asked to be carried into the family sitting- 
 room. When her father spoke of going to the city a 
 few hours, as his business had been neglected for a 
 long time, she requested him to put it off a little 
 longer, saying : " Next week I shall be so much 
 better that I will not keep you a single day." 
 
 She asked for music ; and a chant was sung : 
 
 " From the recesses of a lowly spirit 
 Our humble prayer ascends. O Father, hear it, 
 Borne on the trembling wings of fear and meekness 1 
 Forgive its weakness. 
 
 " Who can resist Thy gentle call, appealing 
 To every generous thought and grateful feeling : 
 Oh, who can hear the accents of Thy mercy, 
 And never love Thee !
 
 1 62 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 " Kind Benefactor ! plant within this bosom 
 The seeds of holiness ; and let them blossom 
 In fragrance and in beauty bright and vernal, 
 And spring eternal. 
 
 " Then place them in those everlasting gardens 
 Where angels walk, and seraphs are the wardens ; 
 Where every flower, brought safe through death's dark portal, 
 Becomes immortal." 
 
 " Oh, I like that ! " she exclaimed ; and then was 
 silent for several minutes. 
 
 She asked her father for some silver coins, and 
 jingled them in her hands saying : " I like the part of 
 Mineralogy in which the noble metals are described, 
 and the part about the precious stones. Is not that 
 a beautiful chapter in the Revelation where the New 
 Jerusalem is pictured, with its walls of emerald and 
 sapphire ? " 
 
 By-and-by she was carried back to her own room, 
 saying : 
 
 " To-morrow will be Sunday ; and no one will be 
 in. I can lie there in the sitting-room all day long, 
 and have such a pleasant change." 
 
 Sweet girl ! She little knew what that " pleasant 
 change " would be ! 
 
 In the afternoon she slept for a short time. Awak- 
 ing suddenly she started up, exclaiming in hurried 
 tones : 
 
 " Read the Bible to me ! Please read it quick ! " 
 " What shall I read ? " asked her father, as the Book 
 was brought.
 
 " JS CHRIST SORRY?" 163 
 
 "Oh, something that will make Christ appear 
 beautiful ! " she said. 
 
 Father steadied his voice, and read that matchless 
 fifty-third chapter of Isaiah. 
 
 When he had finished she said : " That is good ; 
 but cannot you find a place where it says Christ is 
 sorry for sick people ? " 
 
 "Yes," he replied, "I'll read about the mother of 
 Peter, who was healed." 
 
 " But oh ! " said the sick girl, " cannot you find some 
 place where it says He 's sorry now ? They say Christ 
 loves us better than our mothers do ; and yet mother 
 is anxious that I should get well : but Christ 
 don't seem to care : " and tears were in her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Oh yes ! No one cares for you as He does ! " said 
 her mother, eagerly ; " and whatever He does with my 
 darling is just the wisest, kindest thing ! " and she 
 turned from the bedside unable to say more. 
 
 " Yes, it is true ; I know that it is true," murmured 
 the dying girl : " but we cannot see it always." 
 
 Then she was silent and seemed to sleep. 
 
 Oh, there were breaking hearts around her as she 
 lay there so still, with her pulse fluttering with her 
 heart making seven strokes to one of her father's 
 heart ! And all the while the sky was blue as a 
 violet ; the sunshine falling through the trees before 
 the window made a dark mosaic, set in gold, upon the 
 
 L 2
 
 164 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 floor ; and the birds sang just as merrily as if no grief 
 were in the world. Her flowers were in vases on the 
 table ; her work-basket with stitches on the needle 
 that she had not drawn through ; her favourite " Ave 
 Maria " was open on the piano ; her little kitten play- 
 ing in the grass. There she lay in her youth, with 
 her dreams unrealized with the work, for which she 
 had longed so earnestly, undone. The world went on 
 with noise and strife ; her native land was shaken by 
 the onset of contending hosts ; her nearest and dearest 
 friends watched her with agonized hearts : arid still 
 she slept unmindful of joy or sorrow ; heedless alike 
 of the bird's song without or the smothered sobs 
 within. 
 
 The sun went down ; but she did not heed his going. 
 A sunset more solemn and significant than that was 
 coming soon so thought her friends as they stood 
 beside her bed. 
 
 The shadows lengthened ; and all was still in the 
 pleasant village as it had been a hundred nights 
 before.
 
 ife's! Closing 
 
 " I have often thought upon death ; and I find it the least of all 
 evils. I know many wise men who fear to die ; for the change is 
 bitter, and flesh would refuse to prove it : besides the expectation 
 brings terror, and that exceeds the evil. To speak truth, no man 
 knows the lists of his own patience ; nor can divine how able he shall 
 be in his sufferings till the storm come : the perfectest virtue being tried 
 in action." BACON'S ESSAY ON DEATH. 
 
 " To close the eye and close the ear, 
 
 Rapt in a trance of bliss, 
 And, gently drawn in loving arms, 
 
 To swoon to That from This. 
 Scarce knowing if we wake or sleep, 
 
 Scarce asking where we are. 
 To feel all evil sink away, 
 All sorrow and all care." 
 
 MRS. STOWE. 
 
 OUT upon the shoreless sea the tremulous 
 spirit was drifting, though she knew it not, 
 while 
 
 " We watched her breathing through the night, 
 
 Her breathing soft and low : 
 As in her breast the wave of life 
 Went heaving to and fro." 
 
 The mystic change which the morning was to 
 bring found no prophecy in these childlike words 
 with which she accompanied her good-night kiss to a 
 friend : 
 
 " Pray that I need not cough much, and that 
 mother and I may have a beautiful sleep ; and that, 
 if God is willing, I may grow strong again."
 
 1 66 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 Late in the night she said : 
 
 " Please talk to me of ' Forest Home.' When are 
 you going there ? " 
 
 " Why do you wish to know ? " we asked. 
 
 " Oh, because when you go I'm going too." 
 
 Thus did she cling to life with the ardour of youth 
 and hope. 
 
 She whispered, brokenly, these words, evidently in 
 reverie : 
 
 " I am sorry but I could not help it. It was born 
 in me to be afraid of the dead and of graves." 
 
 Soon she started up in pain. 
 
 " I feel so strange ! " she said. 
 
 Her mother hastened to prepare ar\ anodyne, saying : 
 " It will make you better, my child." But in a changed 
 and deep-toned voice Mary exclaimed, " No ! None 
 but God can help me now ! " 
 
 " We knew that she was stricken then ; " 
 we saw it in her face. 
 
 The curtains were drawn aside. Through an eastern 
 window streamed the earliest beams of sunlight. But 
 for that gentle girl had dawned 
 
 " Another morn than ours." 
 
 All hope was gone now. Eternity was just before 
 the girl so tenderly reared, so carefully shielded all 
 her life from everything that could alarm her. We 
 who had always stood between her and danger could 
 help her no more. We must put her hand in Christ's, 
 and be content to leave her in His care. The strange,
 
 "7 AM SO YOUNG!" 1 67 
 
 unmistakable look came into her face as she leant 
 against her father's breast. 
 
 " Mary," said he, in a voice kept steady and clear 
 by the wonderful love that he bore her, " if I should 
 tell you that God wanted you to go to Him very soon, 
 how should you feel ? " 
 
 She turned her face toward his suddenly, and as if 
 in reproach. For a moment she did not answer. We 
 waited in agonizing suspense. Then speaking slowly, 
 and in a firm but mournful voice, she said : 
 
 " I did not think that I should die I am so young;" 
 and added after a slight pause : " But if God should 
 want me, I don't think I should be much afraid ; but 
 I would say, Take me, God !" the last three words 
 being uttered in an almost supernatural tone. 
 
 " Does Christ seem near to you ? " her mother asked, 
 a moment afterward. 
 
 " Oh yes, I see Him a little ; but He seems a good 
 way off." 
 
 Looking up beseechingly, she said : " Please tell 
 me if you think I have been good ? " 
 
 Very eagerly we answered as we could most 
 truthfully do that her life had been beautiful and 
 pure. But even while we spoke she turned her head 
 away from us and murmured : 
 
 " But after all, that makes no difference now. I 
 wish Christ would come nearer." 
 
 " Shall we pray to Him ? " I asked. 
 
 " Oh yes ! pray pray thankful prayers ! " she 
 answered, eagerly.
 
 1 68 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 So we knelt beside her, while the June breeze came 
 through an open window and fanned her fading face, 
 and asked Christ to reveal Himself clearly to Mary ; 
 implored Him to make her as conscious of His pres- 
 ence as she was of ours ; and to strengthen her for the 
 conflict with her first and last enemy Death. While 
 we were yet praying she clasped her hands, exclaim- 
 ing: 
 
 " Oh, He has come ! He has come ! He holds me 
 by the hand ! He is all mine oh no, not all ! He is 
 everybody's ; and yet mine ! " And, looking up with 
 strange dilated eyes, she said to us : "I 'd like to talk 
 good to you ; but I 'm too weak." 
 
 We asked if she would see any of her friends from 
 the village, several having assembled. " Oh no ! " she 
 answered, wearily, " only us four." 
 
 She lay with her eyes closed, and soliloquized 
 thus : " Christ talks to me. He says : ' She tried to 
 be good ; but she wandered. But I will forgive her 
 and save her. I did not die to save good people, but 
 sinners. I saved the thief on the cross.' " 
 
 In a moment afterward she repeated these words 
 without the slightest variation. 
 
 We asked if she had any message for her brother, 
 who was absent, and for the sweet girl who was soon 
 to be his wife. 
 
 " Oh, tell them to help others to be Christians," she 
 replied. 
 
 We asked what we should say to her Sunday- 
 school class from her.
 
 "I'M CUTTING MORE FAITH!" 169 
 
 " Tell them all to be good ! " she exclaimed, with 
 great earnestness as if she saw that there is nothing 
 else worth living for : and, gathering all her strength, 
 she repeated, with almost startling energy, " Tell 
 everybody to be good ! " 
 
 As in the days when we were children, just before 
 we went to sleep, we asked the same question, so now 
 before the long sleep came to her, I said : " Mary, will 
 you forgive me for all that has ever been unkind in 
 my conduct toward you ? " 
 
 She turned her face toward me, and slowly opened 
 her wonderful eyes : 
 
 " I forgive you, since you ask it," she said : " but 
 oh ! you were always good ; you never were unkind." 
 In this last hour, as ever, her loving heart refused to 
 recognize any other than the best nature of her 
 friends. 
 
 And now the parting moment had come. With a 
 beautiful smile on her lips she murmured : " I'm 
 getting more faith ! " 
 
 Suddenly she opened her eyes the pupils so wide, 
 the iris so blue they did not seem like mortal eyes 
 just then. She looked with intense gaze at the 
 pleasant, morning sunshine ; at the fair sky and 
 waving trees ; at each of us who stood beside her. 
 We knew that she was saying good-bye to the world 
 that had been so beautiful to the friends who had 
 been so dear. 
 
 " Now take me quick dear God ! take me on
 
 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 this side ! " she murmured, brokenly, stretching her 
 hands toward the right She closed her eyes wearily. 
 Her breast heaved once twice and she was gone. 
 
 Her father laid her back upon the pillows with the 
 words : " Lord Jesus, receive her spirit She was a 
 precious treasure. We thank Thee for these years ot 
 joy that we have spent with her : and now, O God 
 we give her back to Thee ! " 
 
 So the fresh, young soul went back to its Creator 
 and Redeemer ; while we stood spellbound in that 
 solemn place, " gazing steadfastly up into heaven." 
 
 " Well done of God to halve the lot, 
 And give her all the sweetness ; 
 To us the empty room and cot : 
 To her the heaven's completeness. 
 
 " To us this grave ; to her the rows 
 
 The mystic palm-trees springing ; 
 To us the silence in the house : 
 To her the choral singing ! "
 
 "WE SAW HER FADING." 17 1 
 
 Cfcrenofcp** 
 
 BY JOEL BENTON. 
 
 Two years to-day Death's angel came , 
 
 And, as his shadow darkened by, 
 
 The sweetest soul went up the sky 
 That ever bore an earthly name. 
 
 We saw her fading day by day 
 
 The fatal rose flamed on her cheek ; 
 
 And plainer far than words can speak 
 The wan, pale features seemed to say : 
 
 ' I go in joy the bright world swims ; 
 From the fair summit where I stand 
 I almost touch the Promised Land 
 Which Youth foretells, and Romance hymns. 
 
 " I hear the first, faint, murmuring roar 
 Break from life's ocean ; but must go 
 Beneath the violets sweet and low, 
 Just as I gain the emerald shore. 
 
 "While with Circean blandishment 
 
 The Future waves her beckoning hand, 
 I trust I do not understand : 
 And with Life's briefness rest content." 
 
 O Nature, subtler than the Sphinx 
 
 The Flowers bloom from Spring to Fall ; 
 The Brutes live out their time ; and all 
 
 3ut Man, who only knows and thinks, 
 
 Reach their appointed term of years ; 
 
 At every age he yields his breath : 
 
 And this dumb miracle of Death 
 Opens a Marah fount of tears. 
 
 * This Poem, originally published in the New York Independent, is so beautiful, 
 and, in the present connection, so appropriate, that we cannot forbear inserting it.
 
 172 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 The day our sudden grief befel, 
 The silver hours went warbling by : 
 No dark cloud whispered from the sky 
 
 The near approach of Azrae'l. 
 
 The room lights up far splendours gem 
 The walls ; she smiles the summons meets : 
 Henceforth she walks the golden streets 
 
 That stud the New Jerusalem. 
 
 We grope : Faith sheds her brightest ray 
 On whom the heavenly amaranths fall ; 
 We plant the asphodel, and all 
 
 Our trembling, stammering lips can say. 
 
 Is on this day Death's angel came ; 
 And as his shadow darkened by, 
 The sweetest soul went up the sky 
 
 That ever bore an earthly name.
 
 "/ COME, O GOD I I COME!" 
 
 WHAT further can we say? "The last of 
 earth " had come. The ominous, inevitable 
 Hour, with its mystery and its triumph, was past. 
 The loved and loving soul reposed upon the bosom 
 of its Father and its God. And yet we linger round 
 a memory so sweet : as on that Sabbath morn we 
 lingered near the couch on which our dear one lay in 
 her robes of fleecy white the fair, young Bride of 
 Death. 
 
 Surely, we thought, the loving-kindness of Our 
 Father was revealed anew to us in the final conflict of 
 her life. Though her constitutional fear of death, 
 increased by the repulsive aspect which it had worn 
 before her eyes, was a prominent trait of her character ; 
 and though she heard voices, earnest and sweet, calling 
 her back to the life that had been so pleasant yet, 
 when He whose right it was to fix her destiny sent 
 His mandate for her appearance in His presence, 
 she turned a child-like glance toward heaven, and 
 
 said : 
 
 " I come, O God ! I come ! " 
 
 With a smile upon her lips she met the dark, relent- 
 less Messenger, whose mission is to sever the natural 
 and accustomed union of the body and the soul. In 
 this mysterious strength which was given to one 
 whose shrinking from the strange and unfamiliar
 
 174 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 was proverbial, we find new proof that the age of 
 miracles ceased not with the ascension of our Lord 
 and the martyrdom of His disciples. Not more 
 truly did Christ stand beside the doubting Thomas, 
 than He stood beside the dying bed of this young 
 girl, " who had not seen, and yet had believed." To 
 each of us who felt His presence in that saddest, yet 
 most sublime scene of Mary's life, the Apocalypse of 
 the " beloved disciple " is supplemented by a Revela- 
 tion as direct from God, an'd more than equally 
 tangible to minds which are uninspired. 
 
 A singular coincidence attending Mary's death 
 remains for us to note. 
 
 For several months previous to her last illness one 
 passage from Isaiah had been so much in her thoughts, 
 and so frequently referred to in her conversation, that 
 it became a subject of remark among her friends. 
 Turning to Isaiah xli. 13, in her little Bible, we find 
 this passage, surrounded by a parenthesis in pencil, 
 and on the margin, in her handwriting, the words : 
 " My verse." " For I the Lord thy God will hold thy 
 right hand : saying unto thee, Fear not ; I will help 
 thee." 
 
 It seems to us a beautiful and singular fact that in 
 her last hour she said : " Christ has come ! He holds 
 me by the hand. O God, please take me quick ! Take 
 me on this side ! " turning to the right. 
 
 We cannot tell how things unseen and spiritual are
 
 " WE WERE COMFORTED. 1/5 
 
 joined to things visible and carnal ; and hence we may 
 not say that in these mysterious utterances of the 
 dying girl there is found no fulfilment of the prophecy 
 made months before in the sudden fascination which 
 that passage had for her mind. 
 
 On the tenth day of June we carried her out of the 
 little parlour, whose walls had often echoed back her 
 pleasant tones or ringing laugh ; and in the church 
 where she had been baptized, and where she had 
 shared in the honours of " Commencement Day," just 
 and tender words were spoken of her by one who, 
 while she lived among us, had inspired her with a 
 reverential love.* " Blessed are the pure in heart" was 
 the text from which he preached. In one hour more 
 the bitter words, " Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," had 
 fallen on our ears, mingled with the hollow sound 
 of falling clods ; but we remembered those other 
 words " I am the Resurrection and the Life " ; and 
 we were comforted. 
 
 Turning away from the newly-made grave, adorned 
 by wreaths of myrtle and white roses, which thoughtful 
 friends had left upon it, a vision came to us, the 
 memory of whose radiance will never leave our hearts. 
 Beyond the depths of the violet-hued sky, far up in 
 heaven, we saw what seemed to us like a vast amphi- 
 theatre, which circled round a throng of shining 
 
 * Rev. H. Bannister, D.D., Professor of Hebrew in the Garrett 
 Biblical Institute, Evanston, Illinois.
 
 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 worshippers ; who, upheld and canopied by clouds like 
 the rarest of the sunset, gazed on a face from which 
 glory ineffable shone forth. Among them we saw 
 MARY. One look at the rapt and glowing counten- 
 ance of her who had been with us but two days before, 
 told that it was Christ the glorious, satisfying Christ 
 on whom they gazed. The love which beamed 
 from those brilliant eyes no mortal words may measure. 
 And the music, that surged like a great wave through- 
 out that mighty host one murmur of it fell upon 
 our heavy ears ; and we were transformed for the 
 moment into strong, jubilant souls, over whom sorrow 
 had no power. 
 
 But, as the vision faded, a sweet submissiveness pos- 
 sessed our hearts ; and we felt quite content to wait God's 
 time, and eager to profit by the discipline He should see 
 fit to send : for we knew that the years of prayer would 
 soon be past, and the endless years of praise begun ; that 
 the time of trial would melt away into the eternity of 
 triumph which surely waits for faithful souls. 
 
 " Yet not the less, o'er all the heart hath lost, 
 Shall faith rejoice, when Nature grieves the most : 
 Then comes her triumph ! through the shadowy gloom 
 Her star in glory rises from the tomb ; 
 Mounts to the day-spring ; leaves the cloud below ; 
 And gilds the tears that cease not yet to flow. 
 Yes, all is o'er ! fear, doubt, suspense are fled : 
 Let brighter thoughts be with the virtuous dead ! 
 The final ordeal of the soul is past, 
 And the pale brow is sealed to Heaven at last ! *
 
 "WHERE ART THG17?" 1 77 
 
 O FRIEND, where art thou, who didst watch, last year, 
 
 The autumn glory in the forests burn ? 
 Who heard the acorns dropping praised the clear, 
 
 Gold tints of royal maples ; who didst turn 
 The pages of this book I read to-day ; 
 
 Who held, in spring, blue violets in thy hand, 
 And, wondering at their beauty, who didst say, 
 
 " There must be violets in that other land " ? 
 
 Oh, hast thou found them there ? Where didst thou go, 
 
 When, on that summer Sabbath morn, yo ti fottr, 
 Together journeying, sudden met the flow 
 
 Of death's dark tide, and one returned no more 
 When, on that day of Christ, the sore, sore need 
 
 That thou must cross came ; and they led thee slew 
 Down to the brink where He could meet and lead 
 
 Thee safely over where, where didst thou go ? 
 
 Art thou so far, O friend, thou dost not know 
 
 What wondering looks we lift unto thy sphere ; 
 What visions of transcendent fairness grow 
 
 About thy likeness so familiar here; 
 What questioning thoughts of what thy life may be ; 
 
 What varied tasks thy growing powers employ ; 
 What fitnesses of sight and sound agree 
 
 To crown thy fulness of completed joy ? 
 
 What converse dost thou hold ? What strange, new speoch 
 
 Hast thou been learning in that foreign land ? 
 Up what far heights of knowledge dost thou reach, 
 
 All unfamiliar when we clasped thy hand ? 
 What problems hast thou solved that fret us still ? 
 
 What mysteries whose shadows on us fall ? 
 What revelations hast thou of the Will 
 
 That moulds our life, and guides and holds us all ? 
 
 ft!
 
 1 78 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 What vision hast thou of thy lower life ? 
 
 How dost thou measure now its dear-bought bliss ? 
 What heed hast thou of all its grief and strife ? 
 
 How doth that life's completeness perfect this ? 
 How is it with thee ? Hast thou climbed so high 
 
 All memory of thine upward way is lost ? 
 Do our rough paths so far below thee lie 
 
 Thou hast forgotten what thy rare bliss cost ? 
 
 What trace doth now thy ransomed spirit bear 
 
 Of all earth's wondrous beauty? Amber glow 
 Of autumn thou didst love ; the lustre fair 
 
 Of moonlight on the waters ; banks of snow 
 In distant depths of blue mid-summer skies ; 
 
 The daisy's brightness in the meadow grass : 
 When thou, O friend, to higher realms didst rise, 
 
 Did all the impress of this beauty pass ? 
 
 Wilt thou, enshrined in thy perpetual calm, 
 
 At rest from toil, pure from the stain of tears 
 In that long summer, crowned with peace and palm, 
 
 Be growing from us, while we count the years 
 That bring us nearer to thy high estate ? 
 
 Hast thou learned all our narrow lives can teach ? 
 O friend, who walked and talked with us so late, 
 
 Art thou so far beyond our spirit's reach ? 
 
 Nay, nay, thou art not far we hold thee still ; 
 
 Our souls catch music from thy spirit's tone ; 
 Sometimes upon our hearts clear dews distil 
 
 From wandering airs of that untroubled zone 
 Where thou dost range. Thou dost not love us less 
 
 That we so blindly seek our crown to win ; 
 That in our narrow bounds, we cannot guess 
 
 To what great glory thou hast entered in. 
 
 LUEI.LA CLARK.
 
 TWENTY YEARS LATER. 179 
 
 Xater. 
 
 " How strange it seems, with so much gone 
 
 Of life and love, to still live on ! 
 
 O [mother], only I and thou 
 
 Are left of all that circle now, 
 
 Those dear home faces whereupon 
 
 The fitful firelight paled and shone ; 
 
 Henceforward, listen as we will, 
 
 The voices of that hearth are still ; 
 
 Look where we may, the wide earth o'er, 
 
 Those lighted faces smile no more. 
 ******* 
 
 Alas for him who never sees 
 The stars shine through his cypress trees ! 
 Who hopeless, lays his dead away, 
 Nor looks to see the breaking day 
 Across the mournful marbles play ! 
 Who hath not learned, in hours of faith, 
 
 The truth to flesh and sense unknown, 
 That Life is ever Lord of Death, 
 
 And Love can never lose its own." 
 
 Whittier's " Snow Bound." 
 
 TWENTY-THREE years (and that includes two years of 
 Junes !) have passed since the June day on which my 
 sister Mary broke our hearts by going to Heaven. That 
 act of hers changed all the world to me. Outwardly there 
 seemed but little difference and friends were wont to say 
 that they " never saw a family so calm in presence of such 
 loss." Life flowed on as before, full of duties and cares, but 
 in our souls the world invisible has ever been, since Mary
 
 i8o NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 went to dwell there, the only real world. In an age of 
 scepticism she gave me evidences of Christianity that can- 
 not be forgotten, for they were " learned by heart." In the 
 storm of modern materialistic argument, that anchor holds. 
 
 Evermore her hand so true and tender stretches down to 
 me, and her heavenly lips with smile of love repeat, " Tell 
 everybody to be good." 
 
 My mother, with eighty years upon her dauntless forehead, 
 often says, " Mary is with me always, like a guardian angel. 
 Those we have loved and lost are a perpetual presence in 
 our home, more so than when they lived on earth." 
 
 Evanston, the idyllic little village that my sister loved, has 
 become the largest and most attractive suburb of Chicago. 
 The pictured face of Mary looks down upon scenes very 
 different from the quiet in which our early lives were spent. 
 Conferences, committees, gospel temperance prayer-meetings, 
 and interviews with white ribbon workers from all parts of 
 the world have made our home a busy place and given a 
 new significance to these swift and crowded years. The 
 Woman's Christian Temperance Union, organized in 1874, 
 had Mary's mother, then in her seventieth year, as first 
 president of its local auxiliary in Evanston, and counts her 
 sister and her sister-in-law among its warmest friends. Mary 
 Bannister Willard was the first editor of The Union Signal, 
 known to the W.C.T.U of America as the literary outgrowth 
 of that whirlwind of the Lord called the " Temperance 
 Crusade," and there is hardly a local union of the thousands 
 now organized throughout Christendom that does not hold 
 in tender memory the name of the gifted girl whose nineteen 
 beautiful years this little book embalms.
 
 TWENTY YEARS LATER. 181 
 
 It was my first attempt at writing for the press, beyond 
 a few stray "articles," and was prepared only a year after 
 she left us, my strongest incentive being a desire that her 
 sweet, girlish life should not miss of its wistful purpose to 
 make others better. 
 
 Entirely unknown as I was, the personal friendship 
 between Bishop Foster, who had been President of our 
 University, and his former parishioners, Harper & Brothers, 
 of New York, was the med urn that gained for my little book 
 a hearing with those influential publishers. At first, the 
 championship of Gail Hamilton, and later on the winsome 
 praise of the poet Whittier, made many friends for Mary's 
 story. It had long been my wish to give the copyright 
 to the women I loved best, and who had always been so true 
 to me and mine. For this reason the later editions have 
 been sent forth by the World's and Woman's Temperance 
 Publication Association of the National W.C.T.U. from the 
 Woman's Temple, Chicago. 
 
 It was my first thought to dedicate the later editions to 
 my friend and comrade, Mrs. Matilda B. Carse, of 
 Chicago, founder of The Union Signal, but the tender 
 associations clustering about the original dedication have 
 caused it to be retained. 
 
 It seems strange to pen these lines at the end of the little 
 book written so long ago, and which I have so loved for 
 Mary's sake. What untold pathos have not the years con- 
 tained between the first page and the last ; what ceaseless 
 struggle and what high resolve ; how the world has 
 widened for us women, and the kingdom of Christ 
 extended into new territory in these wonderful decades !
 
 1 82 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 Dear young hearts who read these lines, let me plead 
 with you from the vantage-ground of my life's serene meridian, 
 to be, first of all, loyal to Him who is the best Friend that 
 woman ever knew. Let me beseech you, as an elder sister 
 might, to dedicate you lives to every-day discipleship ; to 
 sacred work for sorrowful humanity. 
 
 What says our Lord ? " Herein is my Father glorified, 
 THAT YE BEAR MUCH FRUIT : So shall ye be my disciples." 
 
 Rest Cottage, Evans ton, Illinois, 
 Sept. 28th, 1883.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 HppenMj. 
 
 A NEW PROFESSION FOR WOMEN.* 
 To Young Women who are Ready for Work: 
 
 THE memory of my own early aspirations leads me to 
 address you. I desired financial independence, that is, 
 to bear my own weight ; I said with Archimedes, " Grant me a 
 place to stand," and sought a lever by which I might help to 
 move the world. If this describes your mental outlook, let us 
 confer together concerning your vocation. There is none nobler 
 than that of a teacher or a professor in an institution for the 
 higher education. But these ranks are overcrowded, and with- 
 out decided talent, some experience, or rare influence, you risk 
 much in making choice of teaching as your field of labor. 
 
 Journalism is difficult and uncertain. Literature, without the 
 highest order of talent, is hopeless. Lyceum lecturing has 
 passed its prime, and the most gifted and famous alone can 
 win in that arduous field. Public reading, as an avocation for 
 women, is as much overcrowded as the legal profession is for 
 men. In music, vocal and instrumental, there is an absolute 
 glut of the market, save for the highly endowed. Moreover, in 
 all these lines, the standard is rising so steadily and to such a 
 height that mediocrity, once endurable, is now hopelessly con- 
 demned. To be a fourth or even a third-rate musician is to 
 have failed outright. To paint daubs and call them pictures is 
 a positive sin. To murder the modern languages by false accent 
 and atrocious grammar, hath not forgiveness in this world. But, 
 behold ! all these things are done daily by droves of young 
 
 * This " call for volunteers," which has been sent to women students in seminaries 
 and colleges throughout the world, is added here as an appendix.
 
 1 84 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 persons who are blindly or ignorantly resolved upon the 
 unattainable. 
 
 The inventory I have outlined includes most of the higher 
 occupations open to women, save one, and that is the broad, 
 nay, the well-nigh boundless, field of practical philanthropy. 
 Here, at last, the world is all before you, where to choose. 
 There is a welcome from the best, for women, on the moral 
 battle-fields of this busy age. Soldiers are needed ; new recruits 
 eagerly sought. No class of workers here outrank women in 
 opportunity, dignity, or the rewards of usefulness that a 
 sincere heart prizes most. To be sure, wealth cannot 
 be won here, but a moderate income sufficient for current 
 needs, is practically assured to all faithful and efficient 
 workers. A noisy fame is not to be attained, but a 
 thousand homes will be your own and ten thousand hearts will 
 bless and shelter you. Growth of brain, heart and conscience 
 is nowhere more certainly assured. There is no one-sided 
 development, as in purely intellectual work, but thought and 
 sympathy go hand in hand. It is a homelike place for a 
 woman's soul to dwell in, this golden harvest-field of Christian 
 work. The Ruths have been here long, as gleaners only. They 
 have grown to be reapers at last. I might enumerate the 
 societies for Home and Foreign Missions, Indian Reform, Asso- 
 ciated Charities, and many other attractive lines of work, but 
 my present object is to win your attention to the Woman's 
 Temperance Union as the most promising field of labor and 
 reward that can be named for Christian women, young or 
 middle-aged or old. Let me tell you something of its history 
 and aims : 
 
 The National Woman's Christian Temperance Union in 
 America, with its forty-four auxiliary State and five Territorial 
 Unions, besides that of the District of Columbia, is the 
 largest society ever composed exclusively of women and
 
 APPENDIX. 185 
 
 conducted entirely by them. It is now organized in every 
 State and Territory of the nation, and locally in all im- 
 portant towns and cities, Great Britain, Canada and 
 Australia are also organised, and Mrs. Mary C. Leavitt, 
 Miss Ackermann, Mrs. Andrew, Dr. Bushnell and many other 
 women, trusty and capable, are organizing for the W.C.T.U. in 
 every land. As a general estimate (the returns being altogether 
 incomplete), we think the number of Local Unions in the 
 United States about 10,000, with a membership of about 300,000, 
 besides numerous juvenile organizations. This society is the 
 lineal descendant of the great Temperance Crusade of women 
 in 1873-74, and is a union of Christian women of all churches, 
 for the purpose of educating the young ; forming a better public 
 sentiment ; reforming the drinking classes ; transforming, by 
 the power of Divine Grace, those who are enslaved by alcohol ; 
 and removing the dramshop from our streets by law. 
 
 In the order of evolution, the Departments of Work are em- 
 braced under the general classification : I. Organizing ; 2. 
 Preventive ; 3. Educational ; 4. Evangelistic ; 5. Social ; 
 6. Legal. 
 
 In 1883 the World's W.C.T.U. was organized on the same 
 basis, and now extends to all civilized countries, and is con- 
 stantly sending out new organizers and evangelists. 
 
 Twenty years of constant study and experience have enabled 
 us to reduce to a science the methods by which these depart- 
 ments have been made successful. These can be learned by 
 active co-operation with the local society in your own town ; by 
 reading our weekly paper, The Union Signal, edited by Frances 
 E. Willard, at The Woman's Temple, Chicago, or The British 
 Woman's Signal, edited by Lady Henry Somerset, President of 
 the British Women's Temperance Association, Memorial Hall, 
 Farringdon Street, London. " The Helping Hand," " The 
 School of Methods" Miss Anna Gordon's Juvenile Manuals
 
 1 86 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 and other books prepared by our National Officers ; the study 
 of our Annual Minutes, and other practical helps, to be had by 
 addressing the Woman's Temperance Publication Association, 
 Woman's Temple, Chicago, will soon make any woman intelli- 
 gent in reference to the spirit and aim of the Society. For 
 literature especially adapted to Great Britain, address Miss Helen 
 L. Hood, Secretary, Memorial Hall, Farringdon Street, London. 
 For a history of the origin and growth of this great movement, 
 and some knowledge of its leaders, I refer you to " Woman 
 and Temperance," and " Glimpses of Fifty Years." 
 
 Hundreds of women have already beome experts in this 
 branch of social science and religious activity. As 
 organizers, National, State, District, and County, they 
 are kept constantly busy, and their income is provided 
 by those for whom they labour. Nearly all these workers have 
 learned to speak acceptably in public without manuscript or 
 notes. They are quiet, well-mannered, sensible women, who 
 would compaie favourably with the same number of teachers, 
 artists or musicians. Indeed, the majority of our leaders have, 
 at some time, been teachers, but found the profession of Gospel 
 temperance workers broader, just as independent, and no less 
 beneficent. By the efforts of our societies the teaching of 
 physiology and hygiene, with special reference to the effects of 
 alcoholics and other narcotics, has already been introduced 
 by law into the public schools of nearly all the states 
 and territories. The kindergarten (with temperance adap- 
 tations) is one of our departments, as is also the Kitchen 
 Garden, both helping to prepare those who teach in them for 
 the home cares which, later on, will come to most of our young 
 workers. As corresponding secretaries of Local Unions, as 
 private secretaries, clerks and accountants, many are supporting 
 themselves and helping the ^greatest, of reforms ; others serve 
 as organizers of Young Women's Christian Temperance Unions
 
 APPENDIX. 187 
 
 and of Juvenile Societies. In our delightful " Flower Mis- 
 sion," there is great promise for willing hands, while our 
 Temperance Literature and Press Departments offer the 
 widest field for cultured brain and skilful pen. As lecturers in 
 our Departments of Heredity and Hygiene, many a young lady 
 physician'has added to her power, while girls who would gladly 
 have studied for the ministry have found a door wide open in 
 Gospel Temperance meetings, and credentials furnished by our 
 Department of Evangelistic Work. 
 
 Dear younger sisters, think about these things. They are 
 " true, pure, lovely and of good report." Talk them over in 
 your Literary Society, your Society of Christian Endeavour, 
 your quiet hour with loved ones at home. We want you and 
 perhaps you have need of us. 
 
 Having been so many years a teacher before enlisting in 
 this grand W.C.T.U. work, I have long meditated sending out 
 this invitation to " sweet girl graduates " and any others to whom 
 it may be like a friendly hand pointing to a safe and helpful 
 avocation. 
 
 May our blessed Master guide you and lead you wisely to 
 decide the sacred question of your work " For God and Home 
 and Native Land." 
 
 London, 
 
 September, 1893.
 
 1 88 NINETEEN BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 Xines. 
 
 Written by Rev. DR. TKRRT, of Garrett Biblical Institute, Evantton, III., 
 on reading "Nineteen Beautiful Yer," 
 
 I read the memoir of those nineteen years, 
 
 And lo, it seemed as if a radiant soul 
 
 Had spoken to me from the pole 
 A spirit conversant with mortal Icars 
 But risen to the supernatural spheres, 
 Where love divine has wiped away all tears. 
 
 Not a biography of common mould 
 Are these stray lines, nor flitting dreams of night, 
 But souvenirs of a 'wildered seraph's flight 
 
 Who, for a season, left the gates of gold, 
 And lingered timidly, full long, in sight 
 Of human griefs, then, " turning to the right," 
 Went home, but left a trail of heavenly light 
 
 More lasting than the meteors of this world. 
 
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