MEMORIAL

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MEMORIAL

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WHO DIED AT

B(PItIJTaFIELQ., Jil^fiSS.,
mabtx 22b, X863.

'If ye loved me, ye would rejoice because I said, I go onto
the Father. — John xiv. 28.

(PlilJ^EQ FOIt THE FJI}£1LY.

SPRINGFIELD:
SAraUEL BOWLES 4 COMPANY, PRINTERS.
1864.

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Harriet Taylor was the second daughter of Rev.
Nathaniel W. Taylor, D. D., Dwight Professor of
Didactic Theology in Yale College, and was born at
New Haven, Ct, November 26th, 1814. She was
married May 10th, 1837, to Eev. S. Gr. B\ickingham,
who was ordained and installed the same month, over
the Second Congregational Church in Millbury, Mass.
In the summer of 1847, her husband became the psis-
tor of the South Church in Springfield, Mass., which
was thenceforth her home, and where she died Octo
ber 22, 1863, aged forty-eight.
Her remains rest in that beautiful cemetery at
Springfield, and in the part known as Chapel Hill.
And there, on the brow of the hill, as it slopes toward
the north and west, under an old oak, where the
morning sun falls unobstructed upon her grave, and
where its setting rays struggle through the foliage to
reach it, that precious dust sleeps, awaiting the sound
of the last trumpet, when " this corruptible shall put
on incorruption, and this mortal shall put on immor
tality ;" and then shall be brought to pass the saying
that is written, " Death is swallowed up in victory."

THE FUNERAL ADDRESS

REV. S. W. S. DUTTO]^, D. D,

OF

jttfaj Matron, Conn.

ADDRESS.

This is a scene of sorrow, indeed, and also of peace
aud joy.
It is a scene of sorrow ; for before us, robed for the
grave, lies one dearer than his own soul to the pastor of
this Church. Tenderly beloved by daughter and widowed
mother, and brothers and sisters, and a wide circle of
friends, and by an affectionate people, there she lies in
death ; and the places which have known her here will
know her no more forever. And she is thus taken away
in the midet of her days. There is the sense not only of
bereavement bat of disappointment. Her sun has gone
down at noon.
Yet it is also an hour of satisfaction and joy ; for we
are here to celebrate the death of one for whom to die is
o-ain, since for her to live was Christ — to love Christ, to
serve Christ, to trust Christ. We celebrate the depart
ure of one, for whom to depart is to be with Christ and
the beloved saints who have gone before into the rest and
joy of the Lord. We celebrate the release from almost life
long disease and suffering, of one who is uow where " the
inhabitant shall never say, I am sick," and where, in the
attainment of perfect holiness, there is no need of the dis-

cipline wisely sent upon us here. And we are now to
commit this body, so admired, beloved, and carefully
tended, to the tender care of Christ, in a grave blessed
by the presence of His own body ; a grave whence it will
come forth at the bidding of Him who is the Resurrection
and the Life, in His own glorious likeness.
But under the first pressure of such an event, it is natu
ral that its bereaving and sorrowful features should chiefly
occupy our minds, and therefore it will be well on this
occasion to turn our thoughts purposely to some of those
consolations, which are abundantly and graciously af
forded us.
That which occurs first to the righteous and devout
mind, and may be sufficiently expressed in a single sen
tence, is this: God has done it; who doeth all things
righteously and well, moving ever in love, even when sur
rounded by clouds and darkness ; who doth not A\dlling]y
afflict us, and pities us as a father pities his children.
" The cup which my Father giveth me, shall I not
drink it?"
And then He who uttered that beautiful expression of
submission to the Father's will, leaving us an example,
our Lord and our brother, surely He bears our griefs and
carries our sorrows. Oh, the heighth and depth and wealth
of consolation there is in this ! Surely He does this.
God's word teaches it. Christian hearts in every age have
experienced it. The evangelical prophet, in giving before
hand something of the history of Christ, declares expressly,
that in all the afflictions of His people He was afflicted.
This is sympathy in the strictest sense — entering into our
sorroAVS and feeling them with us — sympathy as real and

hearty as is that of a circle of kindred, when they stand,
whelmed in a common grief, by the bier of one of their
beloved. The author of the epistle to the Hebrews, en
couraging us to come to Christ as our Redeemer, declares
that " He is not a High Priest who cannot be touched with
a feeling of our infirmities." 'With ^e feeling of our in
firmities. That is, He feels them with us. He enters into
our sorrows, and feels them with us. The sacred writer
just quoted, and also the prophet Isaiah, plainly teaches that
Christ encountered the discipline of sorrow for this very
purpose, that He might sympathize with us in our sorrows.
Whjr it was necessary that God, manifest in the flesh,
should himself encounter grief and pass through a life of
sorrow, in order to this sympathy with us in our sorrow,
we are not, perhaps, able to say. It may be that thus only
could human beings be made to understand and realize
the truth that God sympathizes in their sorrows. We
shrink, almost, from saying that it was necessary in order
to give him a capability for this sympathy which other
wise he would not have possessed. And yet the apostle
seems to say this very plainly |in the passage already ad
duced, and also in this : " Wherefore in all things it
behooved Him to be made like unto his brethren, that He
might be a merciful and faithful High Priest ; for in that
He himself hath suffered, being tempted, He is able to suc
cor them that are tempted. " B ut whether we do or do not
venture to give the reason for the fact, which the apostle
seems at least to give, the fact itself is plain, that Jesus
Christ, the God-man, sympathises with us in our sorrows,
and moreover that that sympathy is in some way cloBely
connected with the truth that He was " a man of sorrows,
2

10
and acquainted with grief." With that sympathy, howev
er, rather than with any question as to the way in which He
is qualified for it, is our concern. That sympathy is a reality.
It is shown in the record of His life. We see it as Ave
read of his taking his mournful way with his disciples
from Jerusalem to Bethany, when He knew that his
friend Lazarus was dead ; and how, when the bereaved
sister fell down at his feet, saying, "Lord, if Thou hadst
been here my brother had not died," He wept. Yes,
"Jesus wept ! " (I remember that when a child I used to
wonder aud be amazed at that Utile verse, composed of
those two words standing by themselves, "Jesus wept."
But as I'came to understand something of the infinite
sublimity and gracious bearing of their real sense, I no
longer wondered, but thought them worthy of constitu
ting a whole verse, even a whole volume, by themselves.)
We see it, this sympathy, as we read of that widow of
Nain, weeping behind the bier of her only son, and how
He said to her in tones of compassion, "weep not," and
then restored to her her all from the dead. We see it in all
the recorded acts of His pity and tenderness toward the
children of sufiering and sorrow. And we know that
the same heart which He had then He has now.
It is proved to be a reality also by the communications
of his Spirit with his sorrowing people. As they draw
nigh unto him in their griefs, he communes with their
souls by his gracious spirit and gives them the assurance
that he feels their sorrows with them. They know, by
experience of these gracious communications, the truth
of what the sacred poet has said.

11
" Our fellow sufferer yet retains
A fellow-feeling of our pains ;
And still remembers, in the skies,
His tears, his agonies, and cries.
" In every pang that rends the heart,
The man of sorrows had a part ;
He sympathizes with our grief,
And to the sufferer sends relief"
Now this is to have our sorrows borne indeed — to know
that our Divine Redeemer, the King of heaven and earth,
feels for us and Avith us. This surely will soothe the
sorest wound of the spirit. This will bear us up under
the weightiest burden of grief. This will light our path
in the darkest night of bereavement.
Our Lord and our brother comforts us in our sorrows,
also, by giving us support and consolation under them.
This he imparts fully to those who rightly seek it. He is
their refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
He does not despise the affliction of the afflicted, nor does
he hide his face from them, but when they cry unto him
he hears. He is to them a strength in their distress, a
refuge from the storm, a shade in the heat. His rod and
his staff comfort them. As the aged man in his infirmity
leans upon his staff, so we may lean, when tottering under
the burden of our sorrows, upon our Lord, and stay our
selves upon Him. And as the grieved child sobs himself
into comfort in his mother's arms, so the bereaved and af
flicted soul, casting itself into the arms of the compassion
ate Redeemer, there finds rest and comfort.
But the beloved one who has been taken from us — our
thoughts turn in such an hour as this, with tender appre
ciation, to the consolation which is found in our memory

12
of God's grace in her, and our assurance that our loss is
her infinite gain ; a gain which flows back to us, and turns
our loss into gain for us in proportion to our love to her.
Our friend had, by natural inheritance, fine mental
qualities, united to a generous, genial, gentle disposition ;
and she was nurtured amid the choicest intellectual, social
and Christian influences. Religion was early presented
to her in its most truthful and most winning aspect, by
parental teaching, parental authority, and parental exam
ple. She had unusual social advantages, in the society
and friendship of the many eminent Christian persons,
who frequented her father's house. Such powers and
privileges, pervaded and vitalized by the renewing and
sanctifying grace of God, resulted in a character of rare
social and Christian loveliness. Always and everywhere,
she was admired and beloved, and justly. Sensibility,
rich, delicate, refined, freshness and simplicity of feeling
and manner, and great wealth of kindness and affection,
made her a charming companion to all who had the pleas
ure of her acquaintance, a dear delight to her intimate
friends, especially to those within the circle of her family
and kindred, and an earnest, humble and devout follower
of Christ in the ways of piety and love.
Her distinctly religious life commenced in her youth.
At the age of seventeen, during one of those outpourings
of Divine Grace which visited N"ew Haven and Yale Col
lege, she consecrated herself to Christ, and by profession
of her faith united with the College Church, with which
her father worshiped. This consecration, which was after
wards to ripen into all the fruits of her womanly piety,
was marked at the first by all that decision and heartiness

13
which characterized her Avhenever she felt that she was
right, or was engaged in a good cause.
It is interesting in this connection to recall a remarka
ble prophecy of an early Christian friend. Observing her
name in her Common Place Book, he wrote after it, "Har
riet Taylor, April 12th, 1831, a sinner just trusting iu
Christ ! Perhaps a saint all purified, crowned, breathing
the song of Moses and the Lamb with Paul and David, in
April 1861." How nearly exact was the fulfillment !
To the peculiar duties that devolved on her as the wife
of a minister of Christ, she gave herself with all the de
votion which feebleness and disease allowed, teaching
classes of young ladies in the precepts and doctrines of
religion and in the duties of devotion, inviting Christian
women to her house for counsel and prayer ; and, though
unable, especially of late years, to visit, yet always glad
to see others at her dAvelling, ever mindful of the poor and
the sorrowing, and manifesting at all times that the cause
of Christ was uppermost in her thoughts and heart.
From early life she had suffered almost constantly from
disease and infirmity in some form. And only her most
intimate acquaintances have known how much she suf
fered ; for she always met her friends with a smile, though
that smile often concealed extreme weakness or acute pain.
Of late years, however, though she has been growing
frailer, and more restricted in her freedom and in her in
tercourse with her friends, and has required more and
more care to. continue in life, she has suffered less acutely
and been permitted to experience more of bodily comfort.
It is one tendency of such protracted disease, feeble
ness and suffering, and sometimes its result, to make a

14
person depressed, unhappy, irresolute, selfish, complain
ing. But the grace of God so accompanied this discipline
in her case as to refine her character, making her more
unselfish, patient, cheerful, loving, joyful in God and in
her hopes for the future, until it seemed to her friends
that, like her Lord, she was being " made perfect through
suffering." She had learned in this school of discipline the lesson
of submission, and SAVeet submission, to her Father's will.
She used to say Avith reference to her poor health : " We
must have our discipline in some form, and I had as lief
take it in this as in any other."
Notwithstanding this severe trial of disease and feeble
ness, in some measure perhaps by means of it through Di
vine Grace, it may he said, gratefully, that she has had a
very happy life. She was happy in her childhood and
youth, in her father's family, in which there was ever an
atmosphere of Christian intelligence, peace, love and joy.
And she has been especially happy in her married life —
united by God's blessed ordinance to one who was exactly
fitted both by nature and grace to be her life-companion,
beholding in the opei^ing and ripening character of their
child the combined images of both parents, and above all
having ever a warm sympathy with her husband, and giA'
ing him kind and beautiful assistance in their Lord's
work of saving mercy and love.
It will not be an unseemly invasion upon the sacred-
ness of her domestic life, if I give here some of her ex
pressions during the last months and days of her life, as
they have been communicated to me, illustrating the effect
of her Heavenly Father's deahng with her.

15
She said at one time to her nearest friend, in regard to
a subject that had greatly tried her, "I wish "—hut
checking herself immediately, she added, "No, I do not
wish, I have had, but I no longer have, any will of my own
about it. Whatever pleases my Heavenly Father, shall
satisfy me." Early in her last sickness she said, "We
have talked playfully about my living to be an old lady.
But such dreams are all over now. And it is all well. We
have needed this, or something worse, or we might have
lost our souls."
Her enjoyment of every thing, and her gratitude for
her comforts and for every slight alleviation of suffering,
were never so great. Once as she lay upon her bed, too
feeble, one would have thought, to take much interest in
such things, she said she " had been admiring the little
that she could see from her window — a little of the sky, a
little foliage of the trees, the sunlight upon it, and the
breeze swaying it gently ; and it loas all so beautiful. ' ' After
a distressing turn of coughing, when relief came, she said,
" How thankful I am to my Heavenly Father ! Nothing
but thanks!"
Her faith in her Saviour, and her sweet and almost
perfect confidence in Him, were delightfuh "I expect,"
she said, " my dear husband, when I let go your hand to
take hold of my Saviour's. I have been a poor sinner ;
but His blood is sufficient, and I trust in His promises. I
may be mistaken, but I don't think I am. I am satisfied,
perfectly satisfied."
She had no fear of death, but rather delightful anticipa
tions of what must come after death. When told of one
who was sick, and afraid to die, she asked, "Why should

16
she be afraid? " as if she could hardly understand how a
Christian could be. She made her physician tell her,
early in her last sickness, what to expect, and was neither
surprised nor saddened by the probable result ; and she
made every arrangement with reference to it as carefully
and calmly as if she was just going to housekeeping.
And in speaking of her feelings she said, she had much
of the time such peace and perfect submission to the divine
will, that she was almost afraid it was the work of Satan
to deceive her. Her husband said to her, that Satan did
not make people submissive to God's will ; that it must he
grace, God's grace, such as He had promised to His saints.
"Yes," she answered, "it was promised, ' Thou wilt keep
him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee.' "
Once, when she was partially asleep, they heard her say
something about " a hat," "Father's hat," her mind evi
dently wandering back to the days of youth or childhood.
Her sister said to her, " Father does not wear a hat now ;
he wears a crown." " Yes," she responded, awaking
to the full consciousness of what she had said, and Avith
one of her sweetest smiles, " and so shall I, very soon, if
I am not mistaken." " And are you not sure," it was in
quired. "Yes, very sure."
There is a beautiful coincidence, of which I am here
reminded, betAveen this reference of hers to the heavenly
crown, and the half conscious words of her beloved and
sainted father, in his last days. After his mind, through
bodily Aveakness, began to wander, in a half unconscious
way he frequently repeated the stanza,
'¦ See Salem's golden spires
In beauteous prospect rise 1
And brighter crowns than mortals wear,
Which sparkle through the skies I "

17
Late in the afternoon preceding her death, her throat
had become so sore that it was extremely painful to
speak ; and she asked for pencil and paper, and wrote as
follows : " You do not know how near death seems. I
cannot talk. You must understand what I wish to say,
though I know it is hard for you to do so. But I love
you very much. I love you beyond all I can  " " Then
you think," said some one, '* that you are almost home ?"
She replied, " I hope so."
Among her papers, she left a letter to her daughter, in
which, after giving her advice in respect to family matters,
and pouring out her love as only a mother can, she says :
" And now I want you to be all to your father that you
can be. You must not give way to grief. God has much
happiness in store for you in this world, I doubt not,
and fain would I stay and share it, but the time will be
short, and we shall enjoy all the more for all we have suf
fered here. I am ready to go ; nay, I long to be with
Christ, which is far better. Strive, dear Hattie, to honor
and glorify that dear Saviour who has done so much for
your mother. I can write no more."
What a legacy of love and piety for a child ! an inher
itance of itself.
In a note to her husband, she had left that delightful
and impressive scene from the German of Theremin, en
titled " The Awakening." It is the reunion of a husband
to his wife, in heaven, who leads him to Him who is the
joy of both their hearts, as well as the glory of heaven.
In the spirit indicated by these various expressions, our
friend waited her Lord's coming ; and on last Wednesday
night He came and took her to himself, up to His heaveri-
3

18
ly rest, so gently and tenderly that she seemed to be
asleep in His arms. As her husband Avas watching with
her, after requesting a change in her position, she fell
asleep, and breathing more and more gently, in half an
hour or so, before he could call any one, she had literally
slept in Jesus. " So fades a summer cloud away ;
So sinks the gale when storms are o'er ;
So gently shuts the eye of day ;
So dies a wave along the shore.
"Triumphant smiles the victor's brow,
Fanned by some guardian angel's wing:
0 grave I where is thy victory now,
And where, 0 death, is now thy sting!"
We remember, bereaved and beloved friends, that our
Lord said to his disciples, " If ye loved me, ye would re
joice, because I said I go unto the Father." May we not
hear the voice of our sainted friend, saying in like man
ner, " As ye love me, rejoice, because I have gone to the
Father — into his immediate presence — into the glories and
delights of the Beatific Vision."
To the Father ! Into that Celestial and Beatific Vision
all the faithful will soon go. And then the fellowship,
which has now in a measure been sundered, will again be
restored, and made pure as the light, and lasting as the
days, of heaven.
If we are faithful ! And how will the memory of her
example help us to be faithful. Need I say a word to
commend it to our hearts ? — her example of faith, of pa
tience, of submission, of humility, of love, of devotion.
Let us be followers of her, as she followed Christ.

NOTICES OF MRS. BUCKINGHAM.

The following notices of her death may be of interest to her friends :
The Springfield Republican says, — " The death of Mrs. Buck
ingham, the wife of Eev. S. G. Buckingham, Pastor of the South
Church, which occurred yesterday morning, was not wholly unex
pected, but the affliction is none the less severe to her family, and their
large number of sympathizing friends. Although for many years pre
vented by failing health from much intercourse outside of her own
home, she has long been kno-wn as a woman of singular beauty and
purity of character. The Conference of Churches assembled at the
South Church, after being, informed of her death, passed the foUowing
appropriate resolutions :
'"'Whereas it has pleased the Great Head of the Church, during the
session of this Conference, to call to himself the beloved wife of our
brother S. G. Buckingham :
"'Resolved, That we, the members of the Hampden County Con
ference of Churches, do hereby express to our afflicted brother and his
family, our deepest and most heartfelt sympathies.
"'Resolved, That we offer our united prayers to Him, who doeth
all things well, that in this the hour of their great sorrow, they may bo
comforted by the consciousness of his love, and be enabled to submit
with child-like confidence to his will.
"'Resolved, That while we so deeply mourn the loss, we render
thanks to God for the bright Christian example, which He has given
us in her unselfish life of patient suffering, and for the strong hope we
are permitted to cherish, that she has but gone before us to our
Father's house, and the General Assembly and Church of the First
Born.'"

20
The Congregationalist, in its report of the Conference, says—" A
sad and touching interest was given to the meeting of Thursday, by
the death of the amiable and excellent wife of Rev. Mr. Buckingham,
with whom the Conference was held. After a long period of patient
and brave endurance, the invalid's chamber brightened by cheerful
ness and faith, the suffering one sleeps at rest in Jesus. The bereave
ment of our brother, evoked a response of warm and affectionate sym
pathy." The New York Evangelist says — " Rev. Mr. Buckingham — a
brother of Gov. Buckingham of Connecticut — has been settled for
many years in Springfield, and few pastors in Massachusetts are more
generally known, or more respected and beloved. Ministers from all
parts of the State and of the country, in passing through Springfield,
have shared his hospitality, and all have carried away impressions of
one of the most delightful of New England homes. Mrs. Bucking
ham, the daughter of a distinguished family, was highly educated, and
to her natural intelligence and many accomplishments, were united a
kindness of heart, a gentleness of manner, which made her loved by
all who knew her. We do but express the feeling of many hearts, in
tenderly sympathizing with the bereaved husband in his great loss.
May the God of all consolation sustain him in this hour of sorrow."
One who had known her in her youth, and been a particular friend
and classmate of her husband, writes — " My thoughts run back thirty
years, to my remembrance of her, whose countenance I thought, (as
I still think) one of the most beautiful that I had ever seen, and whom
in my secret heart, I tenderly loved both for her sake and your own —
Oh, can it be, that all that has vanished ' as a dream when one awak-
eth,' and that in no quiet retreat, charming like that, the delicious ex
perience of those happy days is ever to be repeated on earth ! How
vividly at this moment, do I feel the vanity of the world, and how
confidently do I feel assured of an immortality for the good, the beauty
and blessedness of which, the brightest hopes of our youthful days do
but dimly foreshadow.
" My thoughts run back twenty years, to the Pastor's home over
which your Harriet gracefully presided, and in which she introduced
me to mine. The interest which I had felt in her destiny, ten years
before, was repaid to me an hundred fold, in delicate and kind offices.

21
which laid upon my heart a burden of gratitude which each year bas
deepened, 'and which I now long for the opportunity of expressing
more fully in that better world to which her ransomed spirit has flown.
In our memories here she now takes her place forever with ' the loved,
the unforgotten.'"
Another, who had just returned from the war, where he had been in
command of a regiment, writes — " When I was away at the war, and
just as I was going into that very sharp battle of 'Irish Bend,' I heard
of the death of my mother. A short time after, one of my staff offi
cers, a pious, good man whom I loved, heard of the death of his
wife, and we got together to talk over our soitows. And he said :
' Why could I not have been spared this blow ? Have I not left all
for my country, — given up a very lucrative business, — come out into
danger and hardship, all from the purest motives of patriotism, and at
a great sacrifice, and could not the Lord have spared mo this grief?'
And for a time both of us rebelled, and while we rebelled we could
not be comforted. But better thoughts prevailed, and when we came
to God in a better spirit, he gave us relief and consolation.
" But what is all this to you, you will say. Why nothing, except
that a word from one who has recently been, and now' is in affliction,
giving his experience in rebellion, and the great difference between a
spirit of resistance, and a spirit of submission. I used once to think,
that God's ways must be explained to me, or I would not submit. I
must see tho reason, or I would rebel. I think differently now. I
have learned the military rule of obedience and unquestioning submis
sion. My mother never allowed me to ask, 'why?' My military
commander never permitted me to ask, ' why ? ' And Christ, who is,
at once our ' Great Captain,' and our mother, and sister, and brother,
has given us no permission to ask 'why?' We may not ask ' why,'
now, but hereafter we shall see ' why.'
"That I loved you and your family when in Springfield, and since,
you cannot doubt, if you give me the least credit for sincerity. Mrs.
Buckingham was my most confidential adviser. I trusted and confided
in her as my most true friend, and hers was always the advice of wis
dom. She was an uncommonly shrewd observer, and at the same time
she had none of the narrowness of mind which is usually the compan
ion of shrewdness. And she was therefore eminently fitted to be
the adopted sister of a young man in a strange city. Right gloriously

22

did she perform the duties and take the part of a sister. And to her
advice and hints do I owe in a great measure, my success then and
afterwards. She gave me the benefit of her experience in many a con
fidential talk, and she never erred. I feel that I have truly lost a
friend, an adviser, a sister."
Still another, who had been one of her father's students, writes —
" I saw, as did others, in Mrs. Buckingham many of the noblest traits
of her father's character, and those who loved and revered him, could
not fail to honor her for his sake. The Sabbath I spent at your house
some years ago, was a ' feast of fat things ' to me, for every unoccu
pied hour was taken up in conversation, in which the same strong and
honest positiveness which was so charming in Dr. Taylor, and the same
breadth of view, and especially the same magnanimity of sentiment,
constantly came out. I was especially struck at the meeting of the
Board, with her expressions of feeling. Though feeble in health, and
plainly inadequate to the least exertion, there was no complaint or
dread, but she wished she ' could have all her friends,' — she ' could
not bear that any body should go to less comfortable quarters,' — she
felt ' very strong, ' and was sure she ' could do a great deal and not do
too much.' It was refreshing to see how the willing spirit triumphed
over the feeble flesh.
" And what a thought it is, that now that great soul has burst its
bonds, and left its prison forever ! ' No more fatigue, — no more dis
tress.' What a meeting between the father and the daughter! To
what glories will he lead her ! What magnificent discoveries of truth
will he unfold to her ! To what companionship will he introduce her !
You may remember to have heard him say, in his quaint way, that one
of the first things he should do, after reaching heaven, would be to
find Paul, and ask him what he meant by Romans 5 : 12. He has
doubtless found Paul, and many another, and has not only resurveyed
with them the heights and depths of revealed truth, but has explored
beyond, many a profound deep, and sublime height, over which he will
tenderly guide his daughter's steps."
" How the beloved pass away ! " — writes another who had been in
timately acquainted with her and all her father's family. " Harriet
Taylor, how lovely she was in her youth, in person, in temper, in char
acter ! How her father loved her and her mother ! How her husband

23
oyed her ! How we all loved her ! And now she has gone to put
on all anew, to be young forever, — to be perfected among the loving
and beloved.
" She has left a dear child— only let her be filled with joy and grati
tude, that she was a daughter of Harriet Taylor. The dear husband,-
now deep and how blessed is his sorrow, to have had such a flower to
enjoy for his own in its bloom, and cherish when the blast was severe
upon it. He knows too, full well the beauty in her that knew no fad
ing. He will yet have all and more back again. Her mother knows
that a child has gone from her, and what a child she will receive again.
Only her, and those two sisters left, — but the circle is not broken, and
the best part of it ' not seen ' for a little while.
" Kindest thoughts all stirred up from their depths, for each and all
of you, in which my wife is one with me."

YALE UNIVERSI-TY LIBRARY

3 9002 08866 0692

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