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diff --git a/old/55751-0.txt b/old/55751-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0fea75d..0000000 --- a/old/55751-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9192 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary, by -Daniel Dulany Addison - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary - -Author: Daniel Dulany Addison - -Release Date: October 14, 2017 [EBook #55751] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LUCY LARCOM: LIFE, LETTERS *** - - - - -Produced by David E. Brown and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - -Miss Larcom’s Books. - - - POETICAL WORKS. _Household Edition._ With Portrait, 12mo, $1.50; full - gilt, $2.00. - - POEMS. 16mo, $1.25. - - AN IDYL OF WORK. 16mo, $1.25. - - WILD ROSES OF CAPE ANN, AND OTHER POEMS. 16mo, gilt top, $1.25. - - CHILDHOOD SONGS. Illustrated, 12mo, $1.00. - - EASTER GLEAMS. Poems. 16mo, parchment paper, 75 cents. - - AS IT IS IN HEAVEN. 16mo, $1.00. - - AT THE BEAUTIFUL GATE, AND OTHER SONGS OF FAITH. 16mo, $1.00. - - THE UNSEEN FRIEND. 16mo, $1.00. - - A NEW ENGLAND GIRLHOOD, outlined from Memory. In Riverside Library for - Young People. 16mo, 75 cents. - - _Holiday Edition._ 16mo, $1.25. - - BREATHINGS OF THE BETTER LIFE. Edited by LUCY LARCOM. 18mo, $1.25. - - ROADSIDE POEMS FOR SUMMER TRAVELLERS. Selected by LUCY LARCOM. 18mo, - $1.00. - - HILLSIDE AND SEASIDE IN POETRY. Selected by LUCY LARCOM. 18mo, $1.00. - - BECKONINGS FOR EVERY DAY. A Collection of Quotations for each day in - the year. Compiled by LUCY LARCOM. 16mo, $1.00. - - -HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY, - -BOSTON AND NEW YORK. - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - LUCY LARCOM - LIFE, LETTERS, AND DIARY - - BY - DANIEL DULANY ADDISON - - [Illustration] - - BOSTON AND NEW YORK - HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY - The Riverside Press, Cambridge - 1895 - - - Copyright, 1894, - BY DANIEL DULANY ADDISON. - - _All rights reserved._ - - _The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._ - Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. - - - - -PREFACE - - -It was the purpose of Miss Larcom to write a sequel to her hook, “A -New England Girlhood,” in which she intended to give some account of -her life in the log-cabins on the Western prairies as a pioneer and -schoolmistress, and her experiences as a teacher in Wheaton Seminary, -and as an editor and literary woman. She also wished to trace the -growth of her religious ideas by showing the process through which she -was led to undergo changes that finally made her accept a less rigorous -theology than the one in which she had been reared. Her fascinating -style, with its wealth of reminiscence and interesting detail, would -have characterized her later book, as it did the former, but she died -before beginning it, and American literature has lost a valuable record -of a woman’s life. A keen observer, her contact with famous men and -women gave her an opportunity for a large knowledge of persons and -events; deeply interested in the questions of the day, her comments -would have been just and luminous; and her sensitiveness to impressions -was such that the varied influences upon her life would have been most -attractively presented. She was deeply spiritual, and the account -of her religious experiences would have supplemented the moral power -of her published works; but she was not permitted to give us, in -autobiographical form, the rich fruits of a well-spent life. - -The only preparation she had made for this book was a few notes -suggesting a title and headings of the chapters. She proposed naming -it, “Hitherward: A Life-Path Retraced.” The suggestions for chapters -indicate the subjects that she intended to treat,--“The Charm of -Elsewhere;” “Over the Prairies;” “Log-Cabin Experiences;” “A Pioneer -Schoolmistress;” “Teacher and Student;” “Back to the Bay State;” -“Undercurrents;” “Beneath Norton Elms;” “During the War;” “With ‘Our -Young Folks;’” “Successful Failures;” and “Going On.” - -After her death, her papers came into my possession. An examination -showed that there was material enough in her letters and diary to -preserve still some record of her later life, and possibly to continue -the narrative which she had given in “A New England Girlhood.” - -It will be noticed that some years are treated more at length than -others, the reason for this being that more data have been accessible -for those periods; and also, as is the case with most lives, there -were epochs of intenser emotion, more lasting experiences, and deeper -friendships, the account of which is of greater value to the general -reader than the more commonplace incidents of her career. - -Her life was one of thought, not of action. In their outward movement, -her days flowed on very smoothly. She had no remarkable adventures; but -she had a constant succession of mental vicissitudes, which are often -more dramatic and real than the outward events of even a varied life. -In her loves and sympathies, in her philosophy of living and her creed, -in her literary labors,--her poetry and her prose,--in her studies of -man, nature, and God, she revealed a mind continually venturing into -the known and unknown, and bringing back trophies of struggles and -victories, of doubts and beliefs, of despair and faith. My aim has been -to present the character of a New England woman, as it was thus moulded -by the intellectual and moral forces of American living for the last -fifty years; and to show how she absorbed the best from all sides, and -responded to the highest influences. - -There are passages in her diaries that remind one of Pascal’s -“Thoughts,” for their frankness and spiritual depth; there are others -that recall Amiel’s Journal, with its record of emotions and longings -after light. If such a singularly transparent and pure life had -preserved for us its inner history, it would be more valuable than any -record of mere outward events. Some such inner history I have attempted -to give, by making selections from her journal and letters; and if, at -times, I have allowed her inmost thoughts and motives to be disclosed, -it has been with the feeling that such frankness would be helpful in -portraying a soul stirred with love for the beautiful, a heart loving -humanity, a spirit with the passion for God in it. She once said, “I am -willing to make any part of my life public, if it will help others.” - -One soon sees that the religious element predominated in her character. -From her earliest years, these questions of the soul’s relation to man, -to nature, and to God were uppermost in her mind. She was impelled to -master them; and as Jacob wrestled with the angel, she could not let -Life go until she had received from it a blessing. She found her rest -and comfort in a Christianity which had its centre in no theory or -dogma, no ecclesiastical system, but in the person of Jesus. For Him -she had the most loyal love. He satisfied her soul; He interpreted -life for her; He gave her the inspiration for her work; and with -this belief, she went forth to live and to die, having the hope and -confidence of a larger life beyond. - -She was a prophetess to her generation, singing the songs of a newer -faith, and breathing forth in hymns and lyrics, and even homely -ballads, her belief in God and immortality. Her two books, “As It Is -in Heaven” and “The Unseen Friend,” written in the last years of her -life, when she had felt the presence of an invisible Power, and had -caught glimpses of the spiritual world through the intimations of -happiness given her in this life, are messages to human souls, that -come with authority, and mark her as a strong spiritual force in our -American Christianity. She will be known, I feel, not only as a woman -with the most delicate perceptions of the sweetness of truth, and an -appreciation of its poetry, but as one who could grasp the eternal -facts out of the infinite, and clothe them with such beauty of imagery, -and softness of music, that other lives could receive from her a -blessing. - - * * * * * - -I must make public acknowledgment to those who have willingly rendered -me assistance,--to Miss Lucy Larcom Spaulding (now Mrs. Clark), who -gave me the privilege of using the rich material her aunt had left in -her guardianship; to Mrs. James Guild, who furnished me with facts -of great interest; to Mrs. I. W. Baker, the sister of Miss Larcom, -whose advice has proved most valuable; to Miss Susan Hayes Ward, who -put at my disposal the material used in the Memorial Number of “The -Rushlight,” the magazine of Wheaton Seminary; to Mr. S. T. Pickard, -for permitting me to use some of Mr. Whittier’s letters; to the Rev. -Arthur Brooks, D. D., who consented to my using the letters of his -brother, Bishop Brooks; to Prof. George E. Woodberry, whose sympathy -and suggestions have been of the greatest service to me; and to all who -have loaned the letters that so clearly illustrate the richness of Miss -Larcom’s personality. - - DANIEL DULANY ADDISON. - BEVERLY, MASS., June 19, 1894. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - -CHAPTER PAGE - - I. EARLY DAYS. 1824-1846 1 - - II. IN ILLINOIS. 1846-1852 21 - - III. LIFE AT NORTON. 1853-1859 44 - - IV. REFLECTIONS OF A TEACHER 69 - - V. THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR 83 - - VI. INTELLECTUAL EXPERIENCES 118 - - VII. LETTERS AND WORK. 1861-1868 148 - - VIII. WRITINGS AND LETTERS. 1868-1880 172 - - IX. RELIGIOUS CHANGES. 1881-1884 200 - - X. UNDERCURRENTS. 1884-1889 222 - - XI. MEMBERSHIP IN THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH 242 - - XII. LAST YEARS 257 - - INDEX 291 - - - - -LUCY LARCOM. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -EARLY DAYS. - -1824-1846. - - -Lucy Larcom was born on March 5, 1824, in the old seaside town of -Beverly, Massachusetts. She was next to the youngest in a family of -seven sisters and two brothers. Her father, Benjamin Larcom, a retired -shipmaster who became a shopkeeper selling West India goods, was a man -of strong natural ability, and her mother, Lois Barrett, “with bright -blue eyes and soft dark curling hair, which she kept pinned up under -her white lace cap,” was known for her sweetness. The Larcoms had lived -for generations on the borders of the sea. Mordecai Larcom, born 1629, -appeared in Ipswich in 1655, and soon after moved to Beverly, where -he obtained a grant of land. His son, Cornelius Larcom, born 1658, -purchased a place on the coast, in what is known as Beverly Farms. -David Larcom was born 1701, and his son, Jonathan, born 1742, was the -grandfather of Miss Larcom. The qualities of energy and self-reliance -that come from the cultivation of Essex County soil and the winning of -a livelihood as trader and sailor, were apparent in the branch of the -family that lived in Wallace Lane,--one of the by-streets of the quaint -village, that led in one direction through the fields to Bass River, -“running with its tidal water from inland hills,” and in the other -across the main street to the harbor, with its fishing schooners and -glimpses of the sea. - -Her sensitive nature quickly responded to the free surroundings of -her childhood. The open fields with the wild flowers and granite -ledges covered with vines, and the sandy beaches of the harbor, -and the village streets with their quiet picturesque life, formed -her playground. The little daily events happening around her were -interesting: the stage-coach rattling down Cabot Street; the arrival -of a ship returning from a distant voyage; the stately equipage driven -from the doorway of Colonel Thorndike’s house; the Sunday services in -the meeting-house; the companionship of other children, and the charm -of her simple home life. These experiences are graphically recorded -in “A New England Girlhood,” where she testifies to her love for her -native town. “There is something in the place where we were born that -holds us always by the heart-strings. A town that has a great deal of -country in it, one that is rich in beautiful scenery and ancestral -associations, is almost like a living being, with a body and a soul. We -speak of such a town as of a mother, and think of ourselves as her sons -and daughters. So we felt about our dear native town of Beverly.” - -In her poems there are numerous references to the town:-- - - “Steady we’ll scud by the Cape Ann shore, - Then back to the Beverly Bells once more. - The Beverly Bells - Ring to the tide as it ebbs and swells.” - -In another place she says:-- - - “The gleam of - Thacher’s Isle, twin-beaconed, winking back - To twinkling sister-eyes of Baker’s Isle.” - -Her childhood was a period which she always looked back upon with -fondness, for the deep impressions made upon her mind never were -obliterated. The continued possession of these happy remembrances as -she incorporated them into her womanhood, is shown by the way she -entered into the lives of other children, whether in compiling a book -of poems, like “Child Life,” known wherever there are nurseries, -or in writing her own book, “Childhood Songs,” or in some of her -many sketches in “Our Young Folks,” “St. Nicholas,” or the “Youth’s -Companion.” She knew by an unerring instinct what children were -thinking about, and how to interest them. She always took delight in -the little rivulets in the fields, or the brown thrush singing from -the tree, or the pussy-clover running wild, and eagerly watched for -the red-letter days of children, the anniversaries and birthdays. -She had happy memories of play in the old roomy barn, and of the -improvised swing hung from the rafters. She recalled the fairy-tales -and wonderful stories to which she listened with wide open eyes; the -reflection of her face in the burnished brass of the tongs; and her -child’s night-thoughts when she began to feel that there were mysteries -around her, and to remember that the stars were shining when she was -tucked in bed. - -Lucy Larcom’s book-learning began very early. It seems almost -incredible that she should have been able to read at two and a half -years of age, but such is the general testimony of her family. She used -to sit by the side of her old Aunt Stanley, and thread needles for her, -listening to the songs and stories that the old lady told; and Aunt -Hannah, in the school held in her kitchen, where she often let the -children taste the good things that were cooking, managed not only to -keep her out of mischief, by her “pudding-stick” ferule, or by rapping -her on the head with a thimble, but taught her the “a, b, abs,” and -parts of the Psalms and Epistles. - -The strongest influence in her development was that of her sister -Emeline, who inspired her with love for knowledge, and instilled in her -the highest ideals of girlhood. This sister supplied her, as she grew -older, with books, and guided her reading. Referring to this, she once -said:-- - -“I wish to give due credit to my earliest educators,--those -time-stained, thumb-worn books, that made me aware of living in a world -of natural grandeur, of lofty visions, of heroic achievements, of human -faithfulness, and sacrifice. I always feel like entering a protest -when I hear people say that there was very little for children to read -fifty years ago. There was very little of the cake and confectionery -style of literature, which is so abundant now; but we had the genuine -thing,--solid food, in small quantities, to suit our capacity,--and I -think we were better off for not having too much of the lighter sort. -What we had ‘stayed by.’” - -The books that she read were “Pilgrim’s Progress,” “Paul and Virginia,” -“Gulliver’s Travels,” Sir Walter Scott’s novels; and in poetry, -Spenser, Southey, Wordsworth, and Coleridge. She knew these volumes -almost by heart. - -Lucy’s first love for poetry was fostered by the hymns she used to read -in church, during sermon time, when the minister from his lofty pulpit -entered upon a series of “finallys,” which did not seem to be meant for -her. Her fondness for hymns was so great that at one time she learned -a hundred. The rhythm of the musical accompaniment and the flow of -the words taught her the measured feet of verse before she ever heard -of an iambus or a choriambus. Finding that her own thoughts naturally -expressed themselves in rhyme, she used frequently to write little -verses, and stuff them down the crack in the floor of the attic. The -first poem that she read to the family was long remembered by them, -as, wriggling with embarrassment, she sat on a stool. Referring to her -poetry at this time, she says, “I wrote little verses, to be sure, but -that was nothing; they just grew. They were the same as breathing or -singing. I could not help writing them. They seemed to fly into my mind -like birds going with a carol through the air.” - -There is an incident worth repeating, that illustrates her sweetness -and thoughtfulness of others. When her father died, she tried to -comfort her mother: “I felt like preaching to her, but I was too small -a child to do that; so I did the next best thing I could think of,--I -sang hymns, as if singing to myself, while I meant them for her.” - -These happy days in the country village came to an end in the year -1835, when necessity forced Mrs. Larcom, after the death of her -husband, to seek a home in the manufacturing community of Lowell, where -there were more opportunities for the various members of her family to -assist in the general maintenance of the home. - -In Lowell, there were corporation boarding-houses for the operatives, -requiring respectable matrons as housekeepers, and positions in the -mills offered a means of livelihood to young girls. Attracted by -these inducements, many New England families left their homes, in the -mountains of New Hampshire and along the seacoast, and went to Lowell. -The class of the employees in the mills was consequently different from -the ordinary factory hand of to-day. Girls of education and refinement, -who had no idea of remaining in a mill all their lives, worked in them -for some years with the object, often, of helping to send a brother to -college or making money enough to continue their education, or to aid -dear ones who had been left suddenly without support:-- - - “Not always to be here among the looms,-- - Scarcely a girl she knew expected that; - Means to one end, their labor was,--to put - Gold nest-eggs in the bank, or to redeem - A mortgaged homestead, or to pay the way - Through classic years at some academy; - More commonly to lay a dowry by - For future housekeeping.”[1] - -The intention of Mr. Francis Cabot Lowell and Mr. Nathan Appleton, -when they conceived the idea of establishing the mills, was to provide -conditions of living for operatives, as different as possible from the -Old World ideals of factory labor. They wisely decided to regard the -mental and religious education of the girls as of first importance, -and those who followed these plans aimed to secure young women of -intelligence from the surrounding towns, and stimulate them to seek -improvement in their leisure hours. - -Besides the free Grammar School there were innumerable night schools; -and most of the churches provided, by means of “Social Circles,” -opportunities for improvement. So in Lowell there was a wide-awake set -of girls working for their daily bread, with a true idea of the dignity -of labor, and with the determination to make the most of themselves. -They reasoned thus, as Miss Larcom expressed it: “That the manufacture -of cloth should, as a branch of feminine industry, ever have suffered -a shadow of discredit, will doubtless appear to future generations a -most ridiculous barbarism. To prepare the clothing of the world seems -to have been regarded as womanly work in all ages. The spindle and the -distaff, the picturesque accompaniments of many an ancient legend--of -Penelope, of Lucretia, of the Fatal Sisters themselves--have, to be -sure, changed somewhat in their modern adaptation to the machinery -which robes the human millions; but they are, in effect, the same -instruments, used to supply the same need, at whatever period of the -world’s history.” - -A few facts will show the character of these girls. One of the -ministers was asked how many teachers he thought he could furnish from -among the working-girls. He replied, “About five hundred.” A lecturer -in the Lowell Lyceum stated that four fifths of his audience were -factory girls, that when he entered the hall most of the girls were -reading from books, and when he began his lecture every one seemed -to be taking notes. Charles Dickens, after his visit to Lowell in -1842, wrote: “I solemnly declare that from all the crowd I saw in the -different factories, I cannot recall one face that gave me a painful -impression; not one young girl whom, assuming it to be a matter of -necessity that she should gain her daily bread by the labor of her -hands, I would have removed if I had the power.” - -Mrs. Larcom kept a boarding-house for the operatives, and Lucy was -thrown in close association with these strong young women. She had -access to the little accumulation of books that one of them had -made,--Maria Edgeworth’s “Helen,” Thomas à Kempis, Bunyan’s “Holy War,” -Locke “On the Understanding,” and “Paradise Lost.” This formed good -reading for a girl of ten. - -Lucy’s sister Emeline started in the boarding-house two or three little -fortnightly papers, to which the girls contributed. Each ran a troubled -existence of a few months, and then gave place to its successor, -bearing a new name. “The Casket,” for a time, held their jewels of -thought; then “The Bouquet” gathered their full-blown ideas into a -more pretentious collection. The most permanent of these literary -productions was one that started with the intention of being very -profound,--it was called “The Diving Bell.” The significance of the -name was carefully set forth in the first number:-- - - “Our Diving Bell shall deep descend, - And bring from the immortal mind - Thoughts that to improve us tend, - Of each variety and kind.” - -Lucy soon became a poetical contributor; and when the paper was read, -and the guessing as to the author of each piece began--for they were -anonymous--the other girls were soon able to tell her work by its music -and thought. Among the yellow and worm-eaten pages of the once popular -“Diving Bell,” we find the following specimen of her earliest poetry:-- - - “I sit at my window and gaze - At the scenery lovely around, - On the water, the grass, and the trees, - And I hear the brook’s murmuring sound. - - “The bird warbles forth his soft lays, - And I smell the sweet fragrance of flowers, - I hear the low hum of the bees, - As they busily pass the long hours. - - “These pleasures were given to man - To bring him more near to his God, - Then let me praise God all I can, - Until I am laid ’neath the sod.” - -From the interest excited by these little papers, the desire of the -girls became strong for more dignified literary expression; and by the -advice and assistance of the Rev. Abel C. Thomas, of the Universalist -Church, the “Lowell Offering” was started in October, 1840, and the -“Operative’s Magazine” originated in the Literary Society of the First -Congregational Church. These two magazines were united, in 1842, in -the “Lowell Offering.” The editors of the “Offering,” Miss Hariett -Farley and Miss Hariot Curtiss, factory girls, were women of superior -culture and versatility, and made the magazine a unique experiment -in our literature. In its pages were clever sketches of home life, -humorous and pathetic tales, charming fairy stories, and poems. Its -contributors, like the editors, were mill-girls. It was successful for -five years, at one time having a subscription list as high as four -thousand, which the girls tried to increase by traveling for it, as -agents. This periodical attracted wide attention by reason of its -unusual origin. Selections were made from it, and published in London, -in 1849, called, “Mind Among the Spindles;” and a gentleman attending -the literary lectures, in Paris, of Philarète Chasles, was surprised to -hear one in which the significance and merit of the “Lowell Offering” -was the sole theme. Our young author contributed to the “Offering,” -over the signatures “Rotha,” or “L. L.,” a number of poems and short -prose articles, proving herself to be of sufficient ability to stand as -a typical Lowell factory girl. - -The principle of the interest of manufacturers in the lives of their -operatives was illustrated in Lowell, though it was not carried out -always as intelligently as it should have been. Children were allowed -to work too young. Lucy began to change the bobbins on the spinning -frames at eleven years of age, and the hours of work were sometimes -from five in the morning to seven at night. But the day passed -pleasantly for her, the bobbins having to be changed only every three -quarters of an hour; and the interval between these periods of work was -occupied by conversation with the girls in the same room, or by sitting -in the window overlooking the river. On the sides of one of these -windows she had pasted newspaper clippings, containing favorite poems, -which she committed to memory when she sat in this “poet’s corner.” - -During these years of mill-work she formed some of the ruling ideas of -her life, those that we can see influencing her later thoughts, in her -poetry and prose, and, best of all, her living. Her sympathy for honest -industry, without any regard for its fictitious position in so-called -“society,” was developed by her acquaintance with those earnest girls -who were struggling for their own support and education. Her capacity -for friendship was continually tested; she opened her nature to the -influence of the other lives around her. - -The questions in relation to human life and its meaning became part of -her deepest interests. In private conversations with her companions, -in the meetings at the churches, and in her own meditations, these -thoughts struggled for a hearing:-- - - “Oh, what questionings - Of fate, and freedom, and how evil came, - And what death is, and what the life to come,-- - Passed to and fro among these girls!”[2] - -The answers she gave were the truest. Her thought instinctively turned -to the Invisible Power of the Universe, not solely as an explanation -of things as they exist, or as a philosophical postulate, but as a -Spirit whose presence could be felt in nature, in persons, and in her -own heart. In other words, a love for God as a Being of Love began to -take possession of her; it seized upon her at times like the rushing -inspiration of the prophets; her trust was what is spoken of in -theology as an experimental knowledge. Her early training by Puritan -methods in the thought of a Sovereign Lord, deeply affected her, yet -she seems to have rediscovered God for herself, in the beauty that -her poet’s eye revealed to her--beauties of river and sea and sky, of -flowers rejoicing in their color and perfume, and of human sympathies. -Welling up in her own soul, she felt the waters troubled by the angel’s -touch, and was confident of God. - -With this faith as a guide, the answers to other questions became -plain. Life itself was a gift which must be used in His service; no -evil thought or purpose should be allowed to enter and interfere with -the soul’s growth; duties were the natural outlets of the soul; through -them the soul found its happiness. When she thought of death, there was -only one logical way of looking at it: as a transition into a fuller -life, where the immortal spirits of men could draw nearer to each other -and to God. She seems never, from the very first, to have had any -doubts as to what the end of life meant. There was always the portal -ready to open into the richer Kingdom of Heaven. - -The churches in Lowell stimulated her religious thought. At thirteen -years of age, she stood up before her beloved minister, Dr. Amos -Blanchard, and professed her belief in the Christian religion, and -for many years found refreshment in the Sunday services. But as she -grew older, she found many of the doctrines of Calvinistic Orthodoxy -difficult for her to accept, and she regretted the step she had -taken. The worship was not always helpful to her, especially the long -prayer:-- - - “That long prayer - Was like a toilsome journey round the world, - By Cathay and the Mountains of the Moon, - To come at our own door-stone, where He stood - Waiting to speak to us, the Father dear, - Who is not far from any one of us.”[3] - -She admired the picturesque Episcopal church of St. Ann’s, with its -vine-wreathed stone walls, “an oasis amid the city’s dust.” The Church -for which this venerable edifice stood was to be her final religious -home, and in its stately services and sacred rites she was to find the -spiritual nourishment of her later years. - -She took an interest in the movements of politics, especially the -question of slavery; she was an Abolitionist with the strongest -feelings, from the first. She had some scruples about working on the -cotton which was produced by slave labor:-- - - “When I have thought what soil the cotton plant - We weave is rooted in, what waters it-- - The blood of souls in bondage--I have felt - That I was sinning against light, to stay - And turn the accursèd fibre into cloth - For human wearing. I have hailed one name-- - You know it--‘Garrison’--as a soul might hail - His soul’s deliverer.”[4] - -Whenever a petition for the abolition of slavery was circulated, to be -sent to Congress, it was always sure to have the name of Lucy Larcom -upon it. The poetry of Mr. Whittier had aroused her spirit, and though -she does not seem to have written any of her stirring anti-slavery -verses until years later, she was nursing the spark that during the -Civil War blew into a flame. - -It was in 1843, while in Lowell, that she first met Mr. Whittier, who -was editing the “Middlesex Standard.” Being present at one of the -meetings of the “Improvement Circle,” he heard her read one of her -poems, “Sabbath Bells:”-- - - “List! a faint, a far-off chime! - ’Tis the knell of holy time, - Chiming from the city’s spires, - From the hamlet’s altar fires, - Waking woods and lonely dells, - Pleasant are the Sabbath bells.” - -This introduction began one of her most beautiful friendships; it -lasted for half a century. She learned to know and love the poet’s -sweet, noble sister, Elizabeth, and Lucy was treated by her like a -sister. There was something in Miss Larcom’s nature not unlike Mr. -Whittier’s,--the same love for the unobserved beauties of country -life, the same energy and fire, the same respect for the honest and -sturdy elements in New England life, the same affection for the sea and -mountains, and a similar deep religious sense of the nearness of God. - -Having worked five years in the spinning-room, she was transferred at -her own request to the position of book-keeper, in the cloth-room of -the Lawrence Mills. Here, having more time to herself, she devoted -to study the minutes not required by her work, reading extracts from -the best books, and writing many of the poems that appeared in the -“Offering.” - -It was her habit to carry a sort of prose sketch-book, not unlike an -artist’s, in which she would jot down in words the exact impression -made upon her by a scene or a natural object, using both as models from -which to draw pictures in words. In this way she would describe, for -instance, an autumn leaf, accurately giving its shape, color, number -of ribs and veins, ending with a reflection on the decay of beauty. In -turning over the leaves of this sketch-book, one finds descriptions of -the gnarled tree with its bare branches thrusting themselves forth in -spiteful crookedness; the butterfly lying helpless in the dust with -its green robes sprinkled with ashes; the wind in the pines singing a -melancholy tune in the summer sunlight; and other subjects of equal -beauty. As an illustration of these prose-poems, the suggestion for -which she derived from Jean Paul Richter, the following may be of -interest: it is called, “Flowers beneath Dead Leaves:”-- - -“Two friends were walking together beside a picturesque mill-stream. -While they walked they talked of mortal life, its meaning and its end; -and, as is almost inevitable with such themes, the current of their -thoughts gradually lost its cheerful flow. - -“‘This is a miserable world,’ said one. ‘The black shroud of sorrow -overhangs everything here.’ - -“‘Not so,’ replied the other. ‘Sorrow is not a shroud; it is only the -covering Hope wraps about her when she sleeps.’ - -“Just then they entered an oak grove. It was early spring, and the -trees were bare; but the last year’s leaves lay thick as snowdrifts -upon the ground. - -“‘The liverwort grows here, I think,--one of our earliest flowers,’ -said the last speaker. ‘There, push away the leaves, and you will see -it. How beautiful, with its delicate shades of pink, and purple and -green, lying against the bare roots of the oak tree! But look deeper, -or you will not find the flowers: they are under the dead leaves.’ - -“‘Now I have learned a lesson which I shall not forget,’ said her -friend. ‘This seems to me to be a bad world; and there is no denying -that there are bad things in it. To a sweeping glance it will sometimes -seem barren and desolate; but not one buried germ of life and beauty is -lost to the All-Seeing Eye. Having the weakness of human vision, I must -believe where I cannot see. Henceforth, when I am tempted to despair on -account of evil, I will say to myself, Look deeper; look under the dead -leaves, and you will find flowers.’” - -Lucy Larcom almost imperceptibly slipped into womanhood during these -Lowell years. From being an eager and precocious child, she became an -intelligent and thoughtful woman. The one characteristic which seemed -most fully defined was her tendency to express her thoughts in verse -and prose. As is the case with young authors, her early verses were -artificial, the sentiments were often borrowed, and the emotions were -not always genuine. It is not natural to find a healthy young girl -writing on such themes as “Earthly joys are fleeting,” “Trust not the -world, ’twill cheat thee.” “The murderer’s request” was-- - - “Bury me not where the breezes are sighing - O’er those whom I loved in my innocent days.” - -But when she wrote out of her own experience, and recorded impressions -she had felt, there was a touch of reality in her work that gave some -prophecy of her future excellence. She could write understandingly -about the boisterous March winds, or “school days,”-- - - “When I read old Peter Parley, - Like a bookworm, through and through, - Vainly shunned I Lindley Murray, - And dull Colburn’s ‘Two and Two.’” - -One cannot find any evidence that she made a study of verse-making, -not even possessing “Walker’s Rhyming Dictionary.” Her powers were -cultivated mainly by reading the poetry of others and unconsciously -catching their spirit and metre. Her ear for music helped her more than -her knowledge of tetrameters or hexameters. - -The most important results of these years were the development of her -self-reliance and sweetness, the stirring up of her ambitions to win an -education, and the dawnings of her spiritual life. She was laying up -stores of impressions and memories, also, that were to be permanently -preserved in her more finished poems of later years. The imagery -of her maturer verse recalls her early days, when in the freedom of -childhood she roamed the fields and the woods, and lived on the banks -of the Merrimac. We see her youth again through her reminiscences of -the barberry cluster sweetened by the frost; the evening primrose; -roses wet with briny spray; the woodbine clambering up the cliff; heaps -of clover hay; breezes laden with some rare wood scent; the varied -intonations of the wind; hieroglyphic lichens on the rocks; the mower -whistling from the land; the white feet of the children pattering on -the sand; the one aged tree on the mountain-top, wrestling with the -storm wind; the candles lighted at sunset in the gambrel-roofed houses; -the lightning glaring in the face of the drowning sailor; the tragedy -of unconscious widowhood; the mill-wheel, the hidden power of the mill, -with its great dripping spokes; and the mystery of meeting and blending -horizons. - -In the spring of 1846 the scene of Lucy Larcom’s life was changed, -when her sister Emeline married, and went to seek a home in the West, -for she shared with the new family their pioneer life in Illinois. A -few days before they started on their journey, she wrote some lines of -farewell in her scribbling-book, which show that she was beginning to -use real experiences for the subject of her verses. - - “Farewell to thee, New England! - Thou mother, whose kind arm - Hath e’er been circled round me, - The stern and yet the warm. - Farewell! thou little village, - My birthplace and my home, - Along whose rocky border - The morning surges come. - Thy name shall memory echo, - As exiled shell its wave. - Art thou my home no longer? - Still keep for me a grave.” - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -IN ILLINOIS. - -1846-1852. - - -A journey from Massachusetts to Illinois, in 1846, was long, and filled -with inconveniences. A little time-worn diary, written in pencil, kept -by Lucy Larcom on the journey, is interesting for itself, and preserves -the record of the difficulties that beset early travelers to the West. - - -Monday, April 13, 1846. Returned to Boston in the morning, and now, in -the afternoon, we have really started. Passing through Massachusetts -and Connecticut, we encountered a snowstorm, something quite unexpected -at this season! Came on board the steamboat “Worcester,” in darkness. -And here we are, three of us, squeezed into the queerest little -cubby-hole of a state-room that could be thought of. We all sat down -on the floor and laughed till we cried, to see ourselves in such close -companionship! We had a dispute, just for the fun of it, as to who -should occupy the highest shelf. It was out of the question to put E. -and the baby up there, and for myself, I painted the catastrophe which -would occur, should I come down with my full weight upon the rest, in -such glowing colors, that they were willing to consign me to the second -shelf; and here I lie while the rest are asleep (if they can sleep on -their first steamboat trip) trying to write of my wonderful experiences -as a traveler. - -Tuesday. Alas! Must I write it? The boast of our house must cease. When -it has been said with so much pride that a Larcom was never seasick!--I -have proved the contrary. I only thought to eat a bit of “’lasses -gingerbread,” on occasion of my departure from Yankee Land, and while -I lay to-day in my berth, I was inwardly admonished that the angry -Neptune was not pleased with my feasting, and I was obliged to yield up -the precious morsel as a libation to him. Small sleep had I this night. - -In the morning, S. and I rose long before daylight, and went out to -peep at the sea by moonlight. It was strange and new to see the path of -the great creature in the waters. After daylight most of the passengers -came on deck. It was delightful sailing into New York by sunrise. - -Passing through Hellgate, I was reminded of the worthy Dutch who went -this way long ago, as Dick Knickerbocker records. Passed Blackwell’s -Island,--saw prisoners at work,--looked like pigs. Also passed the -fort on Frog’s Neck; small beauty in the great smoky city for me; an -hour’s stay and a breakfast at the hotel were enough. Took the cars -across New Jersey. Don’t like the appearance of this State at all. -Reached Philadelphia about noon. Went immediately aboard the “Ohio”--a -beautiful boat, and a lovely afternoon it was when we sailed down the -Delaware. The city looked so pleasant with the sun shining on it, and -the green waving trees about it, while the waves looked so smooth in -their white fringes, that I could have jumped overboard for joy! Never -shall I forget that afternoon. At evening, took the cars to--somewhere, -on the Chesapeake Bay, and thence to Baltimore on another boat. Saw -hedges, for the first time, in Maryland. Had an unpleasant sail in -an unpleasant boat. Sister and S. wretchedly seasick; so was nearly -everybody, but I redeemed my fame, dancing attendance from baby to the -sick ones continually. The wind blew, the boat rocked, and the tide was -against us. One poor little Irish woman, who was going with her baby -to meet her husband, was terribly frightened. I tried to comfort her, -but she said “she would pull every curl out of her old man’s head, for -sending for her and the baby.” All the while, a queer-looking German -couple were on deck; the man appeared as if intoxicated, first scolding -and then kissing! The wind was cold, but the man shook his fists when -one young lady asked the woman to come inside and get warm. She would -cry when he scolded her, and “make up” again as soon as he was disposed -to. Then they would promenade together very lovingly and very awkwardly. - -Came into Baltimore between ten and eleven. S. had her pocket picked -on the way! Stopped at the National Hotel for the night, and left -B. again in the morning, in the cars. Glad enough, too, for I hate -cities, and B. worst of all. Rode through Maryland. A very delightful -state, but slavery spoils it. Saw the first log-cabin; it was quite -decent-looking, in comparison with the idea I had formed of it. Stopped -at a station where there were three little negroes sitting on a bench, -sunning themselves, and combing each other’s wool meanwhile. They -looked the picture of ignorance and happiness. - -Were all day Thursday riding through the State of Maryland. Saw flowers -and trees in blossom: delightful country, quite hilly, and well -watered. Followed the course of the Potomac a long way, and at noon -stopped at Harper’s Ferry, a wild-looking place, though I think not so -romantic as a place we passed just before it, where the waters curve in -gentle flow from between two bold hills. Now saw the mountains around -Cumberland. At Cumberland, were squeezed into a stage, to cross the -Alleghenies. Oh, what misery did we not endure that night! Nine, and -a baby, in the little stage! I tried to reconcile myself to my fate, -but was so cross if anybody spoke to me! When we got out of the stage -in the morning I felt more like a snake crawling from a heap of rocks -than anything else. We stretched ourselves, and took breakfast, such -as we could get, at a poor-looking tavern. Then into the stage again, -and over the mountains to Brownsville; never imagined mountains could -be so high, when we were riding on mountains all the time. Reached -Brownsville about twelve,--a dingy place down among the hills. Took -a little walk here. Embarked for Pittsburgh; was glad enough to stow -myself away into a berth and rest. Didn’t trouble the Monongahela with -a glance after the boat started, for I was “used up.” Found ourselves -at Pittsburgh in the morning, a dirty city indeed. Everything black and -smoky. Should think the sun would refuse to shine upon it. - -Friday noon. Here we take another boat--the “Clipper”--the prettiest -one I have seen yet. Splendidly furnished, neat, comfortable berths, -and all we could ask for. The Ohio is a beautiful stream. I sit in -my state-room with the door open, “taking notes.” I am on the Ohio -side; the banks are steep,--now and then we pass a little town. We -have stopped at one, now; men and boys are looking down on us from a -sand-bank far above our heads. Why the people chose a sand-bank, when -they might have had a delightful situation almost anywhere, I wonder -much! Oh, dear! nothing looks like home! but I must not think of that, -now. - -Saturday noon. We are passing through a delightful country. Peach-trees -along the banks of the river, in full bloom, reflected in the water -by sunrise, and surrounded by newly-leaved trees of every shade of -green,--they were beautiful indeed. Have been perfectly charmed with -the varied prospect. Hills stretching down to the margin of the river, -covered with trees, and sunny little cottages nestled at their base, -surrounded with every sort of fruit-tree,--old trees hanging over the -river, their topmost boughs crowned with the dark green mistletoe. -Think I should like to live here a _little_ while. Sat on the deck this -forenoon, and sang “Sweet Home,” and “I would not live alway,” with Mr. -C. and S. Thunder-storm this afternoon; went on deck after tea to see -the sunset--beautiful! Water still, and reflecting gold from motionless -clouds. Went out again at dusk, and heard the frogs singing. It seemed -a little like Saturday evening at home; but no! Passed North Bend -before sunset. Beautiful place: large house, standing back from the -road, half hid by trees; a small green hill near the house covered with -young trees; and a fine orchard in bloom on another hill, near by. The -river bends on the Ohio side. - -21st. Stopped at St. Louis, about ten o’clock. Lay here till nearly -dark, waiting for canal to be mended. Oppressively hot; could not sit -still nor sleep. Going through the canal very slowly. - -22d. Passed through the locks in the night. Morning,--found Illinois on -the right. Dogwort looked sweet among the light green foliage. Stopped -at Evansville in the afternoon, and took in a freight of mosquitoes. -Cabin full. Retired early, to get out of their way. - -23d. Played chess, forenoon. Came to the north of the bend about ten. -Went on deck to see the meeting of the waters. Grand sight. Cairo, -small town on the point, has been overflowed. So near my new home; -begin to be homesick. - - -The new home was destined to be a log-cabin on Looking-Glass Prairie, -St. Clair County, Illinois, with the broad rolling country all around, -and a few houses in sight. This settlement was designated “Frogdom” by -some of the residents. - -The little family had to put up with great inconveniences, the house -not even being plastered, and the furniture being of the most primitive -kind. Soon after their arrival, they were all ill with malarial fever, -commonly called “agey,” but their spirits never flagged. Lucy somewhere -speaks of herself as having a cheerful disposition; it helped her, at -this time, to deal with the discomforts of the novel surroundings. -Her sister refers to her, in a letter to Beverly, as “our merry young -sister Lucy.” - -Some of the neighbors were not as comfortable as these new farmers. One -of them, living not very far off, had for a home a hastily constructed -shanty, with a bunk for a bed, and innumerable rat-holes to let the -smoke out when he had a fire. Others were “right smart” folk from -Pennsylvania. Her main object, however, was not to be a farmer, but -to become a district-school teacher. She soon secured a position; and -began the itinerant life of a teacher, spending a few months in many -different places. She received her salary every three months. Once, -when there was a little delay in the payment, she requested it. The -forty dollars were paid with the remark that “it was a powerful lot of -money for only three months’ teaching.” - -The rough boys and untrained girls called forth all her patience, -and the need of holding their attention forced her to adopt a -straightforward method of expressing herself. Sometimes her experiences -were ludicrous. One day, having to discipline a mischievous urchin, -she put him on a stool near the fireplace, and then went on with the -lessons, not noticing him very much. Looking to see what he was doing, -she was surprised at his disappearance from the room. The question was, -“Where has he gone?” It was answered by one of the scholars, “He’s gone -up the chimney.” He had indeed crawled up the wide open fireplace, and, -having thus escaped, was dancing a jig in front of the school-house. - -Miss Larcom taught in many different places--Waterloo, Lebanon, Sugar -Creek, Woodburn--and generally the rate of payment was fourteen dollars -a month. Board and lodging cost her one dollar and twenty-five cents -a week. She did her own washing and ironing. The frequent change of -schools made her form attachments for the children that had to be -quickly broken. Speaking of a farewell at one school, she said, “The -children cried bitterly when I dismissed them, whether for joy or -sorrow it isn’t for me to say.” - -Her letters to Beverly were brimful of fun; they give, in an easy -style, a vivid account of the hardships of these log-cabin days. The -two following letters were written to her sisters, Abby and Lydia. - - -TO MRS. ABBY O. HASKELL. - - LOOKING-GLASS PRAIRIE, May 19, 1846. - -DEAR SISTER ABBY,--I think it is your turn to have a letter now, so -I’ve just snuffed the candle, and got all my utensils about me, and am -going to see how quickly I can write a good long one. - -Well, for my convenience, I beg that you will borrow the wings of a -dove, and come and sit down here by me. There,--don’t you see what -a nice little room we are in? To be sure, one side of it has not -got any _side_ to it, because the man couldn’t afford to lath and -plaster it, but that patch curtain that Emeline has hung up makes it -snug enough for summer time, and reminds us of the days of ancient -tapestried halls, and all that. That door, where the curtain is, -goes into the entry; and there, right opposite, is another one that -goes into the parlor, but I shall not go in there with you, because -there aren’t any chairs in there; you might sit on Emeline’s blue -trunk, or Sarah’s green one, though; but I’m afraid you’d go behind -the sheet in the corner, and steal some of Emeline’s milk that she’s -saving to make butter of; and then, just as likely as not, you’d want -to know why that square piece of board was put on the bottom of the -window, with the pitchfork stuck into it to keep it from falling; of -course, we shouldn’t like to tell you that there’s a square of glass -out, and I suppose you don’t know about that great tom-cat’s coming -in, two nights, after we had all gone to bed, and making that awful -caterwauling. So you had better stay here in the kitchen, and I’ll show -you all the things; it won’t take long. That door at the top of three -steps leads upstairs; the little low one close to it is the closet -door,--you needn’t go prying in there, to see what we’ve got to eat, -for you’ll certainly bump your head if you do; pass by the parlor door -and the curtain, and look out of that window on the front side of the -house; if it was not so dark, you might see the beautiful flower-beds -that Sarah has made,--a big diamond in the centre, with four triangles -to match it. As true as I live, she has been making her initials right -in the centre of the diamond! There’s a great S, and an M, but where’s -the H? Oh! you don’t know how that dog came in and scratched it all up, -and laid down there to sun himself, the other day. We tell her there’s -a sign to it,--losing her maiden name so soon. She declares she won’t -have it altered by a puppy, though. These two windows look (through -the fence) over to our next neighbor’s; that’s our new cooking-stove -between them; isn’t it a cunning one? the funnel goes up clear through -Emeline’s bedroom, till it gets to “outdoors.” We keep our chimney in -the parlor. Then that door on the other side looks away across the -prairie, three or four miles; and that brings us to where we started -from. - -As to furniture, this is the table, where I am writing; it is a stained -one, without leaves, large enough for six to eat from, and it cost -just two dollars and a quarter. There are a half dozen chairs, black, -with yellow figures, and this is the rocking-chair, where we get baby -to sleep. That is E.’s rag mat before the stove, and George fixed that -shelf for the water-pail in the corner. The coffee-mill is close to -it, and that’s all. Now don’t you call us rich? I’m sure we feel grand -enough. - -Now, if you would only just come and make us a visit in earnest, -Emeline would make you some nice corn-meal fritters, and you should -have some cream and sugar on them; and I would make you some nice -doughnuts, for I’ve learned so much; and you should have milk or -coffee, just as you pleased; it is genteel to drink coffee for -breakfast, dinner, and supper, here. Then, if you didn’t feel -satisfied, we should say that it was because you hadn’t lived on -johnny-cakes and milk a week, as we did. - -I have got to begin to be very dignified, for I am going to begin to -keep school next Monday, in a little log-cabin, all alone. One of the -“committee men” took me to Lebanon, last Saturday, in his prairie -wagon, to be examined. You’ve no idea how frightened I was, but I -answered all their questions, and didn’t make any more mistakes than -they did. They told me I made handsome figures, wrote a good hand, and -spoke correctly, so I begin to feel as if I knew most as much as other -folks. - -Emeline does not gain any flesh, although she has grown very handsome -since she came to the land of “hog and hominy.” Your humble servant is -as fat as a pig, as usual, though she has not tasted any of the porkers -since her emigration, for the same reason that a certain gentleman -would not eat any of Aunt Betsey’s cucumbers,--“not fit to eat.” That’s -my opinion, and if you had seen such specimens of the living animal as -I have, since I left home, you’d say so, too. - - LUCY. - - -TO MRS. I. W. BAKER. - - LOOKING-GLASS PRAIRIE, June 9, 1846. - -DEAR SISTER,--Here I am, just got home from school; all at once a -notion takes me that I want to write to you, and I’m doing it. I’m -sitting in our parlor, or at least, what we call our parlor, because -the cooking-stove is not in it, and because Emeline has laid her pretty -rag mat before the hearth, and because the sofa is in here. There! you -didn’t think we’d get a sofa out here, did you? Well, to be sure, it -isn’t exactly like your sofa, because it isn’t stuffed, nor covered, -nor has it any back, only the side of the house; nor any legs, only -red ones, made of brick; dear me! I’m afraid you’ll “find out,” after -all,--but it certainly did come all the way from St. Louis, in the -wagon with the other furniture. We keep our “cheers” in the kitchen, -and we find that Becky Wallis’s definition of them, _i. e._, “to sit -on,” don’t tell the whole story now. - -But don’t you want to hear how we like it, out here, in this great -country? Oh, happy as clams! and we haven’t been homesick, either, -only once in a while, when it seemed so queer getting “naturalized,” -that we couldn’t help “keepin’ up a terrible thinkin’.” By the way, we -were all sick last week,--no, not all; Emeline and the baby were not. -George and Sarah and I all had the doctor at once. I was taken first, -and had the most violent attack, and got well soonest. Our complaint -was remittent fever, which is only another name for chills and fever, I -suspect. I felt ashamed to get “the chills” so soon after coming here, -and I believe the doctor was kind enough to call it something else. I -did have one regular “chill,” though; the blood settled under my nails, -and though I didn’t shake, I shivered “like I had the agey.” That’s -our Western phraseology. Blue pills and quinine I thought would be the -death of me; but I believe they cured me after all. I had to leave -school for a week, but yesterday I commenced again. - -My school! Oh, the times I do have there with the young Suckers! I -have to walk rather more than a mile to it, and it is in just the most -literal specimen of a log-cabin that you can form any idea of. ’Tis -built of unhewn logs, laid “criss-cross,” as we used to say down in the -lane; the chinks filled up with mud, except those which are not filled -up “at all, at all,” and the chimney is stuck on behind the house. The -floor lies as easy as it can on the ground, and the benches are, some -of them (will you believe it?), very much like our sofa. They never -had a school in this district before, and my “ideas” are beginning -to “shoot” very naturally, most of them. I asked one new scholar -yesterday how old she was. “Don’t know,” she said, “never was inside -of a school-house before.” Another big girl got hold of my rubbers the -other day, “Ouch,” said she, “be them Ingin robbers? I never seen any -’fore.” Some of them are bright enough to make up for all this, and -on the whole I enjoy being “schoolma’am” very much. I have not seen a -snake since I came here, and if I didn’t have to pass through such a -sprinkling of cattle on my way to school, I shouldn’t have a morsel of -trouble. Everybody turns his “cattle-brutes” out on the open prairie -to feed, and they will get right into my path, and such a mooing and -bellowing as they make! George has three big cows and two little ones, -and two calves, and a horse, and ten hens, and a big pig and a little -one: only the big pig has dug a subterranean passage, and “runned -away.” And I don’t milk the cows, and I won’t learn to, if I can help -it, because they will be so impolite as to turn round and stare me in -the face always when I go near them. - -Talk to me about getting married and settling down here in the West! I -don’t do that thing till I’m a greater goose than I am now, for love -nor money. It is a common saying here, that “this is a fine country -for men and dogs, but women and oxen have to take it.” The secret of it -is that farmers’ wives have to do all their work in one room, without -any help, and almost nothing to work with. If ever I had the mind to -take the vestal vow, it has been since I “emigrated.” You’ll see me -coming back one of these years, a “right smart” old maid, my fat sides -and cheeks shaking with “the agey,” to the tune of “Oh, take your time, -Miss Lucy!” - -I’ve a good mind to give you a picture, for the sun is setting, and -it makes me feel “sort o’ romantic.” Well, in the first place, make -a great wide daub of green, away off as far as the sunset; streak -it a little deeper, half-way there, for the wheat fields. A little -to the right make a smooth, bluish green hill, as even as a potato -hill,--that’s the Blue Mound. A little one side, make a hundred little -red, black, and white specks on the grass,--them’s the “cattle-brutes.” -Right against the sun, you may make a little bit of a house, with one -side of the roof hanging over like an umbrella,--that’s Mr. Merritt’s. -And here, right before you, make a little whitewashed log-cabin, with a -Virginia fence all round it ever so far, and a bank on one side sloping -down to a little brook, where honey-locust trees a-plenty grow. Make -it green in a great circle all round, just as if you were out at sea, -where it’s all blue; then put on a great round blue sky for a cover, -throw in a very few clouds, and have a “picter,” or part of one, of our -prairie. There now, don’t you think I should have been an artist, if -circumstances had only developed my natural genius? All send love. Your -everlasting sister, - - LUCY. - - -The pioneer family found it necessary to move their main headquarters, -for Mr. Spaulding, the husband of Emeline, decided to give up farming, -and become a minister. Ministers were scarce in that region, and -seeing the need, he carried out a cherished plan of his youth by being -ordained as a preacher of the gospel. Consequently they deserted their -home, and went to Woodburn, with all their newly acquired furniture on -three wagons, each drawn by three yoke of oxen that splashed through -the mud, until they came to a cottage possessing more rooms than the -house they had left, though the doors were made of rough boards. These -rooms were papered by Lucy, with Boston “Journals.” She grew to love -this cottage, for it represented home to her on the prairie. - -In spite of cares and unpoetical methods of living, her pen was not -idle. She wrote of the little prairie rose:-- - - “Flowers around are thick and bright, - The purple phlox and orchis white, - The orange lily, iris blue, - And painted cups of flaming hue. - Not one among them grows, - So lovely as the little prairie rose.” - -The spirit of a jolly ride over the snow she caught in some lines -called “A Prairie Sleigh-Ride:”-- - - “Away o’er the prairies, the wide and the free, - Away o’er the glistening prairies with me; - The last glance of day lights a blush on the snow, - While away through the twilight our merry steeds go.” - -She also felt the awe inspired by the silence and immensity of the -land, with the blue heavens arching over. - - “But in its solemn silence, - Father, we feel thou art - Filling alike this boundless sea, - And every humble heart.” - -When Lucy had been teaching district school for two years, she was -conscious of her deficiencies, and longed for a chance to acquire a -more thorough education. She wished to fit herself for promotion in -her calling, and ambitions to become a writer were not absent from -her thoughts. An opportunity for study presented itself in Monticello -Female Seminary, Alton, Illinois, which was about twenty miles away -from her home. This institution, founded by Captain B. Godfrey, was -one of the first established in the country for the higher education -of women. The prospectus of 1845, adorned with a stiff engraving -of the grounds and large stone building, offered in its antiquated -language, attractions which seemed to suit her needs: “The design -of the Institution, is to furnish Young Ladies with an education, -_substantial_, _extensive_ and _practical_,--that shall at the same -time develop harmoniously their physical, intellectual, and moral -powers, and prepare them for the sober realities and duties of life.” -All this was to be had for a sum less than one hundred dollars, in -a situation so healthful that there “had never been a death in the -institution.” - - -TO MRS. I. W. BAKER. - - WOODBURN, November 23, 1848. - -... I have a new notion in my head, and I suppose I may as well broach -it at once. There is a certain Seminary in the neighborhood at which -I am very anxious to pass a year or so. It is one of the best of its -kind. I want a better education than I have. Now I am only a tolerable -sort of a “schoolma’am” for children; but if I could teach higher -branches, I could make it more profitable, with less labor. I suppose I -must call teaching my trade; and though I don’t like it the “very best -kind,” I want to understand it as well as possible. And then if I don’t -always keep school I may be able to depend on my pen for a living.... - - -As Lucy was not able to pay the full tuition, the principal, Miss -Fobes, arranged that she should be both student and teacher, thus -helping to defray her expenses. She entered the school in September, -1849, and studied, in earnest, history, metaphysics, English -literature, and higher mathematics, and laid the foundation for a -thorough education. - -Her schoolmates remember with pleasure the beauty of her lite at -Monticello. They speak of the gentleness and peculiar sweetness of her -character. Nothing coarse or mean could be associated with her. Being -older than the other girls she was looked up to with reverence by them. -Her singular purity of mind was illustrated by a remark to one of her -companions, when they were talking about the Christian life,--“I never -knew there was any other way to live.” One of her schoolmates writes: -“I felt homesick, until one day I was introduced to a large, fair-faced -woman, and looked up to meet a pair of happy blue eyes smiling down -upon me, so full of sweet human kindness that the clouds fell straight -away. And from that day the kindness never failed me--I think it never -failed anyone. ‘The sunshine of her face’ were words that went out in -many of my letters in those days.” - -She studied industriously each subject of the course. Her note-books -contain full extracts from the authors she was reading, with long -comments by herself. Those on philosophy indicate a mind naturally -delighting in speculative questions; and when her reasoning touches -upon theology, she seems especially in earnest. History appealed to -her imagination, and she seized upon the more dramatic incidents for -comment. English literature opened a new world of thought to her, and -she studied enthusiastically the origin and growth of poetry. In these -studies of English it was first suggested to her that there was an art -of versification, which could be cultivated. From this time her lines -conform more to poetic rules, her ear for music being supplemented by a -knowledge of metre. - -There was one subject she could not master,--mathematics: “I am -working on spherical trigonometry, just now. I don’t fancy it much; it -needs a clearer head than mine to take in such abstract matters as the -sides and angles of the triangle that can be imagined, but not seen.” -She would exclaim, when studying Conic Sections, that she could see -all the beauty, and feel all the poetry, but could not take the steps. -When, however, after great work, she did understand a proposition, she -accepted it as an eternal fact which God used for infinite purposes. - -The girls at Monticello had a debating society. They gained confidence -in speaking on such questions as,--“The blind man has more enjoyment -in life, than the dumb man,” or, “Does the development of science -depend more upon genius than industry?” Youthful wits were sharpened -as a result of affirming and denying these momentous propositions, in -arguments as strong as could be had. Does not the following extract -from one of Lucy’s speeches present a typical picture of the fortunes -of war in debate, when members are sometimes overcome by the weight -of their own wisdom? “The member from Otter Creek arose and said that -immigrants to this country were not the lowest classes, that they were -quite a decent sort of people--but upon uttering these words, she was -shaken by a qualm of conscience, or some sudden indisposition, and -compelled to take her seat.” - -There were also compositions to be written. The subjects assigned -for these monthly tests of literary ability were as artificial as -those for debate. The object of the teacher in our early schools -seems to have been the selection of topics for essays as far removed -from anything usual or commonplace as possible. One can very easily -imagine what would be the style of an essay on the topic, “It is the -high prerogative of the heroic soul to propagate its own likeness.” -Lucy managed to get a little humor into the discussion of the -question,--“Was the building of Bunker Hill Monument a wise expenditure -of funds?” She argued: “Is there a use in monuments? Perhaps not, -literally. We have heard of no process by which Bunker Hill Monument -might be converted into a lodging-house, and though we are aware that -our thrifty brethren of Yankee-land have made it yield its quota of -dollars and cents, so that any aspirant may step into a basket and be -swung to the pinnacle of a nation’s glory for ninepence, we are not in -the habit of considering this its sole productive principle, unless -gratitude and patriotism are omitted.” - -Miss Larcom remained at Monticello Seminary until her graduation in -June, 1852. Miss Fobes says: “When she left the institution, with her -diploma, and the benediction of her Alma Mater, we felt sure that, -with her noble equipment for service, the result should be success in -whatever field she should find her work.” Her improvement had been so -great that it was noticeable to the members of the family, who referred -to her as “our learned sister.” - - -TO MRS. ABBY O. HASKELL. - - MONTICELLO SEMINARY, May 14th, 1850. - -... But pray don’t call me your “learned sister” any more; for if -I deserved the title, it would make me feel like a something on a -pedestal, and not plain Lucy Larcom: the sister of some half-dozen -worthy matrons. - -I think it must be a mistake about my having improved so _very_ much; -though I should be sorry to have lived all these years and made no -advancement. Folks tell me that I am dignified, sometimes, but I don’t -know what it means. I have never tried to be, and I seem just as -natural to myself as anything. - -I don’t know how I could ever get along with all your cares. I should -like tending the babies well enough, but when it came to washing, -baking, brewing, and mending, my patience would take “French leave.” -Still I don’t believe that any married woman’s trials are much worse -than a “schoolma’am’s.”... - - -There was an event in her life in the West to be touched on. It -relates to her one serious love affair. A deep attachment sprang up -between Lucy and a young man who had accompanied her sister’s family -to Illinois, and for a time lived with them during their log-cabin -experiences, but afterwards went to California. When he left, though -they could hardly be called engaged, there was an understanding -between them that, when he returned during the last days of her school -life, they were to decide the matter finally. After three years of -separation, they were no nearer a conclusion. Some years after this, it -became clear to Miss Larcom that their marriage would not be for the -best interests of either. - -In 1852, her thoughts turned again to her native town of Beverly. -Equipped with her Monticello education, she felt prepared to support -herself by teaching in her congenial home in the East. The memories -of her childhood drew her back in thought to her old home. She wrote -to her brother Benjamin in March, “The almanac says I am twenty-eight -years old, but really, Ben, I do believe it fibs, for I don’t feel half -so old. It seems only the other day that Lydia and I were sitting by -the big kitchen fireplace, down the lane, and you opposite us, puffing -cigar-smoke into our hair, and singing, ‘My name is Apollyon.’” - -To her sister Lydia, whose birthday was on the same day of the month as -her own, she sent some verses recalling her childhood. - - “In childhood we looked gayly out, - To see this blustering dawn begin - And hailed the wind whose noisy shout - Our mutual birthday ushered in. - - - “For cakes, beneath our pillow rolled, - We laughing searched, and wondered, too, - How mother had so well foretold - What fairy people meant to do.” - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -LIFE AT NORTON. - -1853-1859. - - -In the autumn of 1853, Miss Larcom, having returned to Beverly, lived -for a year with her sister, Mrs. Baker, in the pretty old-fashioned -house on Cabot Street. Securing a few rooms in an unoccupied house -not far away, she fitted them up as schoolroom and studio. Here she -taught a little school with ten scholars. Most of these young girls -were as far advanced as the second class at Monticello, and having -already been instructed in the fundamental studies, they were not so -difficult to teach as her untrained pupils in the West. The impression -she made upon each of these young lives was strong, for, as a little -family, she not only taught them the lessons, but gave them generously -from her enthusiasm and faith. She imparted to them her love for all -things true and beautiful. When the school year closed, she asked each -girl to choose her favorite flower, upon which she wrote a few lines -of verse,--on the hyacinth, signifying jealousy,--on the lily of the -valley, meaning innocence. - - “The fragrance Sarah would inhale - Is the lily of the vale: - ‘Humility,’ it whispers low; - Ah! let that gentle breathing flow - Deep within, and then will you - Be a lily of the valley too.” - -One of these pupils wrote to her years after: “Among the teachers of my -girlhood, you are the one who stands out as my model of womanhood.” - -While teaching, she still considered herself a scholar. Nor did she -ever in after life overcome this feeling, for she was always eager to -learn. When she was imparting her best instruction, and writing her -most noteworthy books, she studied with great fidelity. At this time -she took lessons in French and drawing; her love for color and form was -always great. Often she had attempted in crude ways to preserve the -spirit of a landscape, and so reproduce the color of the green ferns -and variegated flowers; but now she set about the task in earnest. -She had no special talent for painting, so she did nothing worthy -of special notice, but some water-color sketches of autumn leaves, -the golden-rod’s “rooted sunshine,” woodland violets, and the coral -of the barberry, and apple-blossoms, “flakes of fragrance drifting -everywhere,” are very pretty. This study of painting, however, trained -her observation, and prepared her to appreciate works of art by giving -her some knowledge of the use of the palette. This early attempt at -artist’s work strengthened her love for pictures; and it was a special -treat to her to visit the different galleries in Boston, where she was -sure to be one of the first to see a celebrated painting. - -It was a pleasure to her to be once more with her family, for the -members of which she had the deepest affection. Writing to Miss Fobes, -she expressed herself thus: “I am glad I came home, for I never -realized before what a treasure my family circle was, nor how much I -loved them. Then why do I not wish to stay? Simply because it does not -seem to me that I can here develop the utmost that is in me. Ought I to -be contented while that feeling remains?” - -The feeling that she must develop “the utmost that is in me,” impelled -her through life, as a duty that she must regard. She was not without -opportunities for cultivation in Beverly. There were the two weekly -Lyceum lectures, with good speakers--Miss Lucy Stone had advocated -woman’s rights so ably that “even in this conservative town many -became converts.” However, she longed for a larger work, and was -ready to accept the call to be a teacher in Wheaton Seminary, Norton, -Massachusetts. - -In the early winter of 1854, she began her work at Wheaton Seminary, -the large school for girls, founded through the generosity of Judge -Wheaton, in memory of his daughter. The subjects given her to teach -were history, moral philosophy, literature, and rhetoric, including the -duty of overlooking the greater part of the compositions. - -Her spirit on entering upon this new work, is indicated by this -letter:-- - - -TO MISS P. FOBES. - - WHEATON SEMINARY, NORTON, MASS., - January 10, 1855. - -DEAR MISS FOBES:--When I look back upon my life I think I see it -divided into epochs similar to geological ages, when, by slow or sudden -upheavings, I have found myself the wondering possessor of a new life -in a new world. My years at Monticello formed such an epoch, and it is -no flattery to say that to you I owe much of the richness and beauty -of the landscape over which I now exult. For your teaching gave me -intellectually a broader scope and firmer footing than I ever had -ventured upon. - -I know that I have done almost nothing as yet to show that I have -received so much good. Life here seems to me not much more than “a -getting ready to do.” But in the consciousness of what it is to be -a human being, created in the image of the divine,--in the gradual -developing of new inner powers like unfolding wings,--in the joy -of entering into the secrets of beauty in God’s universe,--in the -hopefulness of constant struggling and aspiring, I am rich. - -I have been in this place only a few weeks and suppose the length of -my stay will depend upon the satisfaction I give and receive. It is a -pleasant school. - - Yours truly, LUCY LARCOM. - - -The length of her stay in Norton extended over eight important years -of her life, from 1854 to 1862. These years were full of intellectual -and religious struggles, of hard student life, of sweet companionships, -of the beginnings of literary success, and of deep friendships. -Earnestness and sincerity here became her characteristic traits; while -her gentleness and patience, though sorely tried at times by the -misconduct or failure of her scholars, became habitual with her. - -One cannot think of the quiet life she led under the Norton elms, -without picturing the tall graceful woman with her sweet face, low -broad forehead, and soft blue eyes, moving about among the girls as -a continual inspiration, always leading them by her presence and -words into some region of sentiment, or beauty, or religion. In the -schoolroom, ever dignified, she spoke in a low voice with the emphasis -of real interest. In her own room, with its green carpet and white -curtains, where she liked to retire for thought and work, surrounded by -her books, a few pictures, and shells and pressed sea-weed, she would -prepare her lectures, and write her letters to her friends. There were -sure to be flowers on her table, sent either by some loving scholar, or -plucked by her own hand,--“I have some pretty things in my room; and -flowers, so alive! As I look into their deep cups, I am filled with -the harmonies of color and form. How warm a bright rose-pink carnation -makes the room on a wintry day!” A scholar tells how, venturing into -this retreat, she saw Miss Larcom quietly sitting in a rocking-chair, -knitting stockings for the soldiers, during the War. - -She was a conscientious student in preparing her lessons; she read -the best books she could find in the school library, or could borrow -from her friends. The notes of her lectures show great labor by their -exhaustiveness. As a teacher, some of her power was derived from the -clearness with which she presented the theme, and her picturesque style -of expression. She invested the most lifeless topics with interest by -the use of original and appropriate illustrations,--as will be seen in -the following passage from a lecture on Anglo-Saxon poetry, in which -she describes the minstrels:-- - -“The minstrels would sing, and the people would listen; and if -the monks had listened too, they would sometimes have heard the -irregularities of their lives chanted for the derision of the populace. -For the bards assumed perfect independence in their choice of themes; -liberty of the lyre seems to have been what liberty of the press is in -these days. We can imagine the excitement in some quaint village, when -the harp of one of these strollers was heard; how men and women would -leave their work, and listen to these ballads. Those who have seen the -magnetic effect of a hand-organ on village children, may have some -idea of it; if the organ-grinder were also a famous story-teller, the -effect would be greater. And this is something like what these ballad -singers were to our elder brethren of Angle-land, in the childhood of -civilization.” - -What excellent advice this is to girls, on the subject of their -compositions,--“Get rid, if you can, of that formal idea of a -composition to write, that stalks like a ghost through your holiday -hours. Interest yourself in something, and just say your simple say -about it. One mistake with beginners in writing is, that they think it -important to spin out something long. It is a great deal better not to -write more than a page or two, unless you have something to say, and -can write it correctly.” - -The recitations in her class-room were of an unconventional character. -Dealing with topics in the largest and most interesting way, she -often used up the time in discussion, so that the girls who did not -know their lessons sometimes took advantage of this peculiarity by -asking questions, for the sole purpose of needlessly prolonging her -explanation. It was often a joke among the scholars that she did not -know where the lesson was; but so soon as she found the place, she -made clear the portion assigned, and brought all her knowledge to -bear so fully on the subject, that the scholars caught glimpses of -unexplored fields of thought, which were made to contribute something -to illustrate the theme in hand. - -She did more for the girls than by simply teaching them in the -class-room. She enlarged their intellectual life by founding a paper, -called “The Rushlight,” by which they not only gained confidence, -but centralized the literary ability of the school. She explained -the origin of the paper thus: “I said to myself, as I glanced over -the bright things from the pile of compositions that rose before me -semi-weekly, ‘Why cannot we have a paper?’ I said it to the girls, -and to the teachers also, and everybody was pleased with the idea.” -She also founded the Psyche Literary Society, to stimulate the girls’ -studies in literature and art. - -Another element in her power as a teacher was her personal interest -in the girls. It was not solely an intellectual or literary interest, -but she thought of their characters and religious training. To one of -the girls she wrote, “I never felt it an interruption for you to come -into my room; how we used to talk about everything!” When they were in -trouble, they came naturally to her with their confidences. She was -sometimes called “Mother Larcom,” and she earned the title, for she -acted like a mother to the homesick girl, and quieted by her gentle -persuasiveness the tears of repentance, or bitter weeping of sorrow, of -some of the more unfortunate of her pupils. Writing about one of the -girls whose religious development she had watched, she said, “She is -unfolding from the heart to God most openly, now. I am sure there is a -deep life opening in her. I have rejoiced over her.” - -She discovered, through their moods--as in the case of one who was -crying a great deal--or by the frequency of a permitted correspondence, -their real or fancied love-affairs. After winning their confidence -she could wisely advise them. Thus in one instance she wrote: “If such -intimacy is true friendship, it will be a benefit to both; yet it -is not without danger. I have seen the severest sufferings from the -struggle between duty and feeling in such relations. I have seen life -embittered by reason of the liberty allowed to a cousinly love, left -unwatched. It is hard to keep the affections right in quantity and -quality. But I need not say that a true love needs no limits; it is -only falsehood that embitters every sweet and pure cup.” - -When the girls left school, they carried her love with them; and by -correspondence and visits to their homes, where she was always a -welcome guest, she followed them through the deepest experiences of -their lives. One of her scholars said, “If I were to sum up the strong -impression she made upon me, I should say it all in ‘I loved her.’” -Another wrote, “Miss Larcom was to me a peerless star, unattainable -in the excellence and purity of her character. She stood as the ideal -woman, whom I wished to be like.” - -When death invaded a home, she knew how to write:-- - - NORTON, October 7, 1855. - -... Why is it we dread the brief parting of death so much? Do we really -doubt meeting them again? Will they have lost themselves in the great -crowd of immortals, so that when our time comes to follow them we -cannot find them? I am just reading for the first time, “In Memoriam,” -and it fills my mind with these questions. I think I should be homesick -in a mansion filled with angels, if my own precious friends whom I -loved were not within call.... - - -The following letter shows her intimacy with the girls:-- - - -TO MISS SUSAN HAYES WARD. - - NORTON, April 2, 1855. - -MY DEAR SUSIE,--I find it almost impossible to feel at home in a -boarding-school; and then I know I never was made for a teacher,--a -schoolmistress I mean. Still, among so many, one feels an inspiration -in trying to do what is to be done, though the feeling that others -would do it better is a drawback. And then, at such a place, I always -find somebody to remember forever. For that I am thankful for my -winter’s experience. There are buds opening in the great human garden, -which are not to be found at our own hearthstone: and it is a blessed -task to watch them unfolding, and shield them from blight. And yet what -can one mortal do for another? There is no such thing as helping, or -blessing, except by becoming a medium for the divine light, and that is -blessedness in itself. - -It seems to me that to be a Christian is just to look up to God, and be -blessed by his love, and then move through the world quietly, radiating -as we go.... - - -The development of her own religious life was marked by many radical -changes. She was no longer satisfied by the theology in which she had -been reared. She sought new foundations for her belief. Her classes in -philosophy led her into the world of controversy. Plato was constantly -by her side, and she refreshed herself by reading Coleridge’s “Aids to -Reflection,” from which she gained more nutriment than from any other -religious book, except the Bible. Swedenborg taught her that “to grow -old in heaven is to grow young.” Sears’s “Foregleams and Foreshadows” -made her feel the joy of living, as presented in the chapter on “Home.” -She also read “Tauler’s Sermons,” and Hare’s “Mission of the Comforter.” - -Interwoven with her religious thought were the life and influence of -one of the dearest friends she ever knew, Miss Esther S. Humiston -of Waterbury, Connecticut, a woman of rare powers, and wonderful -sweetness of character. The two women were not unlike. They had the -same spiritual longings, similar views of life, and equal intellectual -attainments. Miss Larcom looked up to Esther for guidance, and such was -the perfect accord between them, that she wrote to her fully about her -deepest thoughts, and most sacred experiences. - -In the spring of 1858, she wrote thus to Esther:--“You do not realize -how very unorthodox I am. I do not think a bond of church-membership -ought to be based upon intellectual belief at all, but that it should -simply be a union in the divine love and life. Now I do not formally -belong to any particular church,--that is, I have a letter from a -little Congregational church on the prairies, which I have never used, -and I know not how, honestly I can. For should I not be required -virtually to say I believe certain things? I believe the Bible, but not -just as any church I know explains it, and so I think I must keep aloof -until I can find some band, united simply as Christian, without any -‘ism’ attached. We all do belong to Christ’s Church who love Him, so I -do not feel lost or a wanderer, even though I cannot externally satisfy -others.” - - -TO ESTHER S. HUMISTON. - - BEVERLY, MASS., August 2d, 1858. - -... I regard Christianity as having to do with the heart and life, and -not with the opinions; and my own opinions are not definite on many -points. The disputed doctrines of total depravity, predestination, -etc., with some of those distinctly called “evangelical,” such as -the atonement, and the duration of suffering after death, I find -more and more difficulty in thinking about; so that I cannot yet say -what “views” I “hold.” There,--will you be my “sister confessor”? -As I see things now, the “atonement” is to me, literally, the -“at-one-ment,”--our fallen natures lifted from the earthly by redeeming -love, and brought into harmony with God; Jesus, the Mediator, is doing -it now, in every heart that receives Him, and I think our faith should -look up to Him as He is, the living Redeemer, and not merely back to -the dead Christ,--for “He is not dead.” Then, as to the future state -of those who die unrepentant: after probing my heart, I find that it -utterly refuses to believe that there is any corner in God’s universe -where “hope never comes.” There must be suffering, anguish, for those -who choose sin, so long as they choose it; but can a soul, made in -the image of God, who is Light, choose darkness forever? There is but -one God, whose is the “kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever and -ever;” is there any depth of darkness, which this sovereign radiance -shall not at last pierce? I know the Bible testimony, and it seems -to me that the inmost meaning, even of those fearfully denunciatory -passages, would confirm this truth. Now, you can imagine how these -sentiments would be received by an Orthodox Church.... - - -TO THE SAME. - - NORTON, September 2, 1860. - -... I enjoyed being with my friends. I told you that they were -Universalists, but theirs is a better-toned piety than that of some -Orthodox friends. Still, there was a want in it, a something that left -me longing; it was as if they were looking at the sunlit side of a -mountain, and never thought of the shadows which must be beyond. The -mystery of life is in its shadows, and its beauty, in great part, too. -There isn’t shadow enough in Universalism to make a comprehensible -belief for me. And yet I believe there is no corner of God’s universe -where His love is not brooding, and seeking to penetrate the darkest -abyss.... - - -The question about her marriage was definitely settled while she was -at Norton. She decided, in the first place, on general grounds, that -it would be best for her not to marry. There were various reasons for -this. She had many premonitions of the breaking down of her health, -which finally came in 1862, when she had to give up teaching; and -owing to some exaggeration of her symptoms--for at times she felt that -her mind might give way--she thought it unwise for her to take up the -responsibilities of matrimony. In addition to this, she grew fond of -her independence, and as her ability asserted itself, she seemed to -see before her a career as an authoress, which she felt it her duty to -pursue. Special reasons, of course, one cannot go into fully, though -there are some features of them that may be mentioned; to Esther she -stated an abundantly sufficient one,--“I am almost sure there are -chambers in my heart that he could not unlock.” She also differed -radically from her lover on the subject of slavery. Her feelings as -an abolitionist were so strong that she knew where there was such a -division of sentiments a household could not be at peace within itself. -This difference of opinion concerning all the questions that culminated -in the Civil War resulted in a final refusal, which afterwards found -public expression in her noted poem, “A Loyal Woman’s No,” an energetic -refusal of a loyal woman to a lover who upheld slavery:-- - - “Not yours,--because you are not man enough - To grasp your country’s measure of a man, - If such as you, when Freedom’s ways are rough, - Cannot walk in them,--learn that women can!” - -The poem was not written entirely out of her own experience. In making -a confession about it to a friend, she says, “I have had a thousand -tremblings about its going into print, because I feel that some others -might feel hurt by the part that is not from my own experience. If -it is better for the cause, let me and those old associations be -sacrificed.” The publication of the poem was justified by the way it -was received everywhere. It was quoted in the newspapers all over the -North. An answer was printed in “The Courier,” called “A Young Man’s -Reply.” This interested Miss Larcom, and she referred to it as “quite -satisfactory, inasmuch as it shows that somebody whom the coat fitted -put it on! If it does make unmanly and disloyal men wince, I am glad I -wrote it.” - - -TO ESTHER S. HUMISTON. - - NORTON, June 1, 1858. - -... I shall probably never marry. I can see reasons why it would be -unwise for me; and yet I will freely tell you that I believe I should -have been very happy, “if it might have been.” A true marriage (_the_ -is the word I should have used) is the highest state of earthly -happiness,--the flowing of the deepest life of the soul into a kindred -soul, two spirits made one,--to be a double light and blessing to other -souls has, I doubt not, been sometimes, though seldom, realized on -earth.... - - -This touch of real romance in her life shows that she had a woman’s -true nature, and that she did not escape the gentle grasping of the -divine passion, though she shook herself free from it, deciding that it -was better for her to walk alone. Some lines of her poem, “Unwedded,” -suggest the reasons for her decision:-- - - “And here is a woman who understood - Herself, her work, and God’s will with her, - To gather and scatter His sheaves of good, - And was meekly thankful, though men demur. - - “Would she have walked more nobly, think, - With a man beside her, to point the way, - Hand joining hand in the marriage link? - Possibly, Yes: it is likelier, Nay.” - - -TO MISS ESTHER S. HUMISTON. - - NORTON, January 15, 1859. - -... The books came through the post-office, with the note separate; -they were brought to me while I was having a class recite logic in my -room,--the dryest and most distasteful of all subjects to me, but it is -a select class, and that makes up for the study. The young ladies who -compose it are on quite familiar terms with me, and when the messenger -said, “Three books and two letters for Miss Larcom,” their curiosity -was greatly excited, and there was so much sly peeping at corners and -picking at strings that they were not, on the whole, very _logical_. -They asked to hold them for me till I was ready to open them, and I -believe in letting “young ladies” act like children while they can.... -I was thinking how much I should enjoy a quiet forenoon writing to you, -when the words, “Study hour out”--accompanied the clang of the bell, -and a Babel of voices broke into the hall outside my door. - -I am trying not to hear--to get back into the quiet places of thought -where your letters, open before me, were leading me, but I cannot; -there is a jar, a discord,--and I suppose it is selfish in me not to -be willing to be thus disturbed. How I long for a quiet place to live -in! I never found a place still enough yet. But all kinds of natural -sounds, as winds, waters, and even the crying of a baby, if not _too_ -loud and protracted, are not noises to me. Is it right to feel the -sound of human voices a great annoyance? One who loved everybody would -always enjoy the “music of speech,” I suppose, and would find music -where I hear only discord. - - -TO THE SAME. - - Sabbath evening. - -... I read in school yesterday morning, something from the “Sympathy -of Christ.” We have had some very naughty girls here, and have had to -think of expulsion; but one of them ran away, and so saved us the -trouble. How hard it is to judge the erring rightly--Christianly. I am -always inclined to be too severe, for the sake of the rest; one corrupt -heart that loves to roll its corruption about does so much evil. I do -not think that a school like this is the place for evil natures--the -family is the place, it seems to me, or even something more solitary. -And yet there have been such reforms here, that sometimes I am in -doubt. When there is a Christian, sympathizing heart to take the erring -home, and care for her as a mother would, that is well. But we are all -so busy here, with the _everythings_. I am convinced that I have too -much head-employment altogether; I get hardly breathing time for heart -and home life.... - - -In 1854, Miss Larcom published her first book,--“Similitudes from the -Ocean and the Prairie.” It was a little volume of not more than one -hundred pages, containing brief prose parables drawn from nature, -with the purpose of illustrating some moral truth. The titles of the -Similitudes suggest their meaning: “The Song before the Storm;” “The -Veiled Star;” “The Wasted Flower;” and “The Lost Gem.” Though the -conception was somewhat crude, yet her desire to find in all things -a message of a higher life and a greater beauty, showed the serious -beginnings of the poet’s insight, which in after years was to reveal -to her so many hidden truths. She characterized the book as “a very -immature affair, often entirely childish.” - -Her first distinct literary success was the writing of the Kansas Prize -Song, in 1855. When Kansas was being settled, the New England Emigrant -Aid Company offered a prize of fifty dollars for the best song, written -with the object of inspiring in the emigrants the sentiments of -freedom. The power of a popular melody was to be used in maintaining -a free soil. She gained this prize; and her stirring words were sung -all through the West. They were printed, with the appropriate music of -Mr. E. Norman, on cotton handkerchiefs, which were given away by the -thousand. - - “Yeomen strong, hither throng, - Nature’s honest men; - We will make the wilderness - Bud and bloom again; - Bring the sickle, speed the plough, - Turn the ready soil; - Freedom is the noblest pay - For a true man’s toil. - - “Ho, brothers! come, brothers! - Hasten all with me; - We’ll sing upon the Kansas plains - A song of liberty.” - -Her next little book, “Lottie’s Thought-book,” was published by the -American Sunday School Union, Philadelphia, in 1858. Not unlike the -Similitudes in its method of teaching by parables, it gave the thoughts -of a clever child, as they would be suggested by such scenes as a -beautiful spring morning in the country, “when glad thoughts praise -God;” the first snow, typifying the purity of the earth; or the -thought of the joy of living, in the chapter “Glad to be alive” that -recalls an exclamation she uses in one of her letters, “Oh! how happy I -am, that I did not die in childhood!” These little books are like the -inner biography of her youth, a pure crystal stream of love, reflecting -the sunlight in every ripple and eddy. - -She also wrote for various magazines, notably “The Crayon,” in which -appeared some criticisms of poetry, especially Miss Muloch’s, and some -of her poems, like “Chriemhild,” a legend of Norse romance. The only -payment she received was the subscription to the magazine. Her famous -poem, “Hannah Binding Shoes,” was first printed in the “Knickerbocker,” -without her knowledge,--then a few months later, in “The Crayon.” This -fact gave rise to the accusation of plagiarism which, though it greatly -annoyed her, brought her poem into general notice. Having sent the -poem to the “Knickerbocker,” but not receiving any answer about its -acceptance, she concluded that it had been rejected. She then sent it -to “The Crayon,” where it appeared, but in the mean time it had been -printed in the “Knickerbocker.” The editor of the last-named paper -wrote a letter to the “New York Tribune,” in which he accused Lucy -Larcom of being “a literary thiefess,” and claimed the “stolen goods.” -In answer to this, Miss Larcom wrote immediately a reply to the -“Tribune.” - - - NORTON. MASS., February 13, 1858. - -TO THE EDITOR OF THE NEW YORK TRIBUNE: - -SIR,--Will you please say to “Old Nick” that he does not tell the -truth. His statements regarding me, in your paper, February 10, are -not correct. Lucy Larcom is not a “literary thiefess;” “Hannah Binding -Shoes” was not written “five or six years,” but about four years since. -I have only to blush that I wrote it, and that I sent it to the editor -of the “Knickerbocker.” - -The latter was done at a time when it seemed desirable for me to -attempt writing for pecuniary profit,--a very ridiculous idea, of -course,--and I enclosed the poem in a letter, intimating such a desire -to that gentleman, and supposing that courtesy would suggest that the -letter should be answered, or the poem returned. As neither of these -things was done, I innocently considered it my own property, and sent -it to “The Crayon,” as an original composition. - -I hereby reclaim from “Old Nick,” my “stolen goods,” which he has -inadvertently advertised. - - Yours truly, LUCY LARCOM. - - -She wrote rather a severe letter to the “most honorable Old Nick” -himself, in which she says, “In my ignorance, I supposed that editors -were as polite as other people, in such matters as answering letters, -and acknowledging even small favors. I am sure I never would have -sent you a poem, if I had supposed you would one day have accused me -of stealing it, and I hereby promise with sincere penitence, never -to do so again. I suppose I can hardly look for the courtesy of an -explanation as public as your accusation has been.” - -She also wrote an explanation to Mr. John Durand, the editor of “The -Crayon.” - - -TO JOHN DURAND. - - NORTON, February 12, 1858. - -DEAR MR. DURAND,--“Hannah Binding Shoes” I may truly say is “a poor -thing, sir, but mine own.” I should hardly have supposed that the -identity of so humble an individual would be thought worth calling in -question. The poem was written four years since, and was sent to the -editor of the “Knickerbocker” in my own name, but as I received no -acknowledgment from him, and have never seen a copy of the paper since, -I supposed it either failed to reach him, or was not accepted. Was I -not justifiable in sending it to you? I had no idea that it had been -published before. - - Yours truly, LUCY LARCOM. - - -“Hannah Binding Shoes” was set to music, and became very popular. Rev. -Samuel Longfellow wrote her, “I wish you could have heard, as I did the -other evening, ‘Hannah’ sung by Adelaide Phillips.” Together with its -sequel, “Skipper Ben,” it recalled an incident very common in a New -England sea-town, where ships were lost and lovers never returned, -where every home had in it hearts that beat for those out at sea, and -where women stood on the shore and strained their eyes looking for a -sail. In these verses, as in all her poetry of the sea, she has caught -the dirge in the wind, and the lonesome sound of beating waves when the -skipper “faced his fate in a furious night.” - -In 1859 Miss Larcom tried, at the suggestion of many friends, to find -a publisher for a volume of verses, but she was unsuccessful. A letter -from Mr. Whittier accompanying the manuscript did not win Ticknor and -Fields to her side. She took a very sensible view of her discomfiture. - - -TO JOHN DURAND. - - NORTON, October 29, 1860. - -... I should have regarded the thought of publishing as premature; but -most of my friends are not artistic, and do not look upon my unripe -fruits as I do. What I have written is at least genuine, sincere. I -believe it is in me to do better things than I have done, and I shall -work on in the faith of leaving something that will find its true place -in the right time, because of the life there is in it. To live out, to -express in some way the best there is in us, seems to me to be about -all of life.... - - -After Miss Larcom’s return from the West, the friendship with the -Whittiers ripened and became a factor in her life. The gentle sweetness -of the poet’s sister Elizabeth soon won its way to her heart, and -the strength of the man greatly impressed her. They grew very fond of -her, and took an interest in her literary work. The attachment that -Elizabeth formed for her was based on a most genuine love. In one of -her letters she wrote, “Dear, dear Lucy,--Let me thank thee for all -thy love. I can never tell thee how sweet it has been to me. I could -have cried to think of thy loving care for me.” Again:--“I wish I -could see thee oftener. I need thee. I feel a little more rest with -thee than with most. Thou hast done me good since I first knew thee.” -The two lives mingled and blended in the contact of companionship, -for refinement of feeling, delicacy of thought, and strength of -moral purpose, were characteristic of both. Mr. Whittier found her -companionable, and admired her sincerity and poetical ability, which he -recognized very early. It was one of Miss Larcom’s greatest pleasures, -while at Norton, to run off and spend a few days at Amesbury in the -household that she loved. What Mr. Whittier said, she knew to be -true,--“Thee will always find the latchstring out;” and when away, she -knew she was remembered, for Elizabeth sent her word that “Greenleaf -has just filled thy blue and gold vase with the yellowest of flowers.” - -Here is a letter to her, from Mr. Whittier, as early as 1853. - - September 3, 1853. - -MY DEAR FRIEND,--I thank thee for thy note. The personal allusion -would be flattering enough, did I not know that it originated in a -sad misconception and overestimate of one who knows himself to be “no -better than he should be.” It is a way we have. We are continually -investing somebody or other with whatever is best in ourselves. It does -not follow that the objects themselves are worth much. The vines of our -fancy often drape the ugliest stumps in the whole forest. - -I am anxious to see thy little book in print.[5] Whatever may be its -fate with the public at large, I feel quite sure it will give thee a -place in the best minds and hearts. The best kind of fame, after all. - - Thy friend, J. G. WHITTIER. - - -At Mr. Whittier’s suggestion, she used to submit her work to him for -criticism; and he always indicated what he considered faulty, in rhyme -or metre. This practical training in the art of verse-making was -valuable to her. She continued it for many years until she felt that -she ought to be more self-reliant. Then she printed without consulting -him, and, at first, he reproved her for it. “But,” she said, “you have -taught me all that I ought to ask: why should I remain a burden on you? -Why should I always write with you holding my hand? My conscience and -my pride rebel. I will be myself, faults and all.” - -In 1855, he wrote, “I have said in my heart, I wonder if Lucy Larcom -will write to me, as she proposed? I should love to have her.” Their -correspondence continued until the time of his death. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -REFLECTIONS OF A TEACHER. - - -It was not Miss Larcom’s regular habit to keep a diary, but at certain -times she recorded her thoughts in private note-books. Her object in -doing this was to cultivate clearness of expression by frequently -writing, and to give definiteness to her ideas by putting them down -in black and white, thus preserving them, either for immediate use as -material for letters to her friends, or for her own inspection years -afterwards. Long intervals of time elapsed between the periods when -she wrote in her diaries; so they have not the value of a continuous -life-history, but are interesting as records of phases of her thought -which often reflect vividly the conditions in which she lived. - -The following extracts from her diary have been made with the purpose -of showing how she was influenced by the circumstances of her life, -and how deeply she entered into the spirit of her intellectual and -political surroundings. - - -Norton, May 4, 1860. Our talk has been of the mystics again to-day. -With all the vagaries into which some of them wandered, I cannot -help feeling that these men had more of the truth than any of those -more strictly styled philosophers. Cousin has a cool, patronizing -way with all systems that rather amuses me at times. What he says of -the relation of philosophy to religion seems very conceited: that, -while they have been separated, philosophy must now take religion by -the hand, and gently guide her steps to the light. The history of -philosophy would rather show that he was making a guide of the one who -needed to be led! Certainly it must be so, if God is wiser than man. - -May 21. Out of door studies, these past days, among goldfinches, -orioles, larks, brown thrushes, and all the singing brotherhood; and a -course of lectures on natural history, to help out the classifying and -naming. Better living than among philosophers. - -June 13. These weeks that have been spent over a discussion of Eastern -and Western mythologies, have allowed little time for reading or -thinking of anything else. I have learned to value the thoughts of -thinkers, and to perceive the difference between them and pleasant -surface-writers. I expected to gain much from Mrs. Child’s “History -of Religious Ideas,” and I have found it full of entertaining and -instructive facts, told in a very kind and impartial way; but hers is -not the philosophic depth of Carlyle, nor the broad and deep spiritual -insight of Maurice,--the latter always pours light into the windows -of my soul, and makes truth seem all near and clear. Mrs. C.’s work -is still a most valuable one, because it makes so much comprehensible -that had been shut up for the general reader, and such a spirit as hers -makes everything that she writes good to read. This reading and writing -have impressed me more fully than ever before with the certainty that -truth is one, radiating from one source through all manner of mediums, -colored and distorted by all sorts of error; yet wherever a good word -has been spoken, there is the voice of God, whether the speaker were -Christian or Pagan. - -June 20. After reading the addresses at the Music Hall, in memory of -Theodore Parker, and what is said of him in the religious papers, it -seems to me a great relief that there is a perfect Judge of human -character and human life above. Neither friends nor foes could know -this man truly; his works will follow him, right or wrong, for he wrote -himself in innumerable hearts, with all the energy of confidence in his -own views. I did not like the tone of his preaching and lecturing,--it -seemed to me often dogmatic, and abusive of other beliefs; certainly -never very patient with what he did not like. Yet the noble impulses he -communicated, the perfect freedom of thought which he advised, cannot -be without their good results. The fire will try his work, as it does -and will that of all human workers, to prove of what sort it is. - -August 12, Gardiner, Maine. Now in the seclusion of this little bird’s -nest in the woods, I feel easy and free, like the winds that sweep -through pine and hemlock, and the birds that go singing or silent from -the glen to the orchard. Heartsease grows here, best of all blossoms; I -surely did not bring it with me, for I was very uneasy at home. - -August 14. Leisure,--is it anything to be thankful for, or not? I -never do what I mean to do, nor so much, as when I think my time all -occupied. This vacation is almost gone, and not one of the achievements -I had planned, in the way of writing, is executed. It is something to -rest, but not so much, if one feels that it is not exactly right or -necessary to rest! - -August 18. The prospect of a journey to the mountains to-day. There is -a thick fog from the river, but the birds are singing through it. I can -scarcely let the summer go without giving me a glimpse of the mountains. - -August 22. Returned last night after a very pleasant visit of three -days. It rained on the way, but it was only the cooler and more -comfortable traveling for that; and when the sun came out in the -west just as we reached the top of a ridge from which the whole long -mountain chain was visible on the horizon, I felt that that one view -was enough compensation for going, and that first glimpse I shall never -forget. The round summit of Blue, and the bolder ridges of Saddle-back -and Abraham, lifted themselves above the lower elevations that would -be mountains anywhere but among mountains, far off and solemn with the -deepening purple of sunset, and over them the sky hung, fiery gold, -intermingled with shadow. The first glimpse was finer than anything -afterward, though I rode up the lovely valley of the Sandy River, which -is _like_ a paradise, if not one, recalling ever the old words of the -hymn:-- - - “Sweet fields arrayed in living green, - And rivers of delight.” - -What can be more beautiful than green meadow-lands, bordered by -forest-covered slopes, that ever rise and rise, till they fade into dim -blue mountain-distances? - -I climbed one mountain half-way,--the bluest of the blue,--and so -called, by emphasis, Mount Blue. It was a grand view,--the great -distant mountain wall, and the valleys slumbering safe in its -shadow. Yet the distant view is always more impressive, more full of -suggestions for me; and coming back to the first point of observation, -I hoped for a repetition of the first delight. But the far-off ridges -were closely veiled with mist and rain, and a thunder-shower swept -toward us from them, across the wide valley. Yet as we turned to leave, -Mount Blue just lifted off his mist-cap for a few minutes, as if to say -good-by! - -Altogether, it is a most charming and comforting picture for future -remembrance: flowery mountain-slopes, little garden patches of -golden-rod, white everlasting and purple willow-herb, under the shade -of maples, and firs, and graceful hemlocks; and glimpses of cottagers’ -homes on hillsides and by running streams. My eyes are rested, and my -heart is glad. - -August 24. Beverly. The sail down the Kennebec River was delightful, -and I took a wicked sort of pleasure in shutting myself up from the -crowd and enjoying it! - -August 26. Sabbath day memories and regrets--how unlike everything -else they are! One thing to be grateful for, in a Puritan training, is -that it makes one day in the week a thoughtful one, at least. The old -customs we may not keep up,--may even regard them as foolish,--still, -there is a questioning as to right and wrong on this day, which we must -be hardened to get wholly rid of. If I have lived unworthily for a -week, the Sabbath quietly shows me myself in her mirror. - -Lately I have heard some discussion as to the name and manner of -keeping the day. “The Sabbath,” they say, “was a Jewish institution, -not a Christian festival, such as we should keep.” But I believe that -_rest_ is still the noblest idea of the day; the old Sabbath was a type -of Christian rest; not constrained, but free, full, peaceful; so I like -not anything that disturbs the _quiet_ of the day. - -September 17. Whether such a record as this is a useful thing, -or entirely useless, I begin to question. I don’t want to feel -interested in anything which is only to benefit myself, and I don’t -want to write these trifles for other people’s eyes. A journal of -the “subjective” kind I have always thought foolish, as nurturing a -morbid self-consciousness in the writer; and yet, alone so much as I -am, it is well to have some sort of a ventilator from the interior. -Letter-writing is a better safety valve than a journal, when we write -to those we can trust, and this I meant to be a sort of prolonged -letter, a mirror of my occupations and progress, for my old friend, -Esther. But she, I fear will never read it; she is on her way to a -place of better occupation, and I feel that the first stimulus is gone. - -Shall I stop in the middle of my book? No, I believe not; for I think -it will be indirectly a useful thing, and I shall write just when I -feel like it, often enough to keep track of myself, and give account of -myself to myself. - -Since I returned to school I have read--well, not much; two little -works on natural history; I have begun Ruskin’s fifth volume, with -great interest, and Trench on the Parables for my Sunday class. “The -Limits of Religious Thought” I am reading with a pupil, and with it -Maurice’s reply, “What is Revelation?” My impression of these two -writers, so far, is that Maurice is a much more deeply religious man -than Mansel; and that the latter’s logic will not always sustain his -footing. I do not like logic in religion,--reason is not always logic; -reason seems to me to be the mind wide open--no faculty numb or asleep; -and to that state of inner being, truth must come like sunshine, and -the mysteries which cannot be explained will be harmonized with our -certain knowledge, in such light. - -September 22. Morris’s Poems have come to me to-day, by mail. I have -just glanced through the book, and find myself attracted by the -clearness and simplicity of the songs; the most beautiful the most -familiar, as songs should be. It does not strike me that any of them -came from the very deep places of the heart,--many of them sound as if -written only to please, and as if the highest aim of the author was to -have them pretty and unobjectionable. I’ve written things in that way -myself sometimes, and I don’t like it. - -September 26. I know I haven’t regarded ministers as others do, yet it -seems to me that there are few “ministers” or “pastors” nowadays,--real -ones,--such as the apostolic times knew. A “preacher” does not mean the -thing, for he may preach himself only. I wonder whether the relations -between pastor and people can ever be again as they have been? People -are becoming their own judges and guides in religious things; this is a -necessity of Protestantism, I think. And yet my “liberal” Mr. Maurice -says that the “right of private judgment” only makes every man his own -pope. The true idea of a church has not yet been shown the world,--a -visible Church, I mean,--unless it was in the very earliest times; -yes, the twelve disciples bound to their Lord in love, to do his work -forever,--that was a church,--a Christian family. But then they had no -system of theology to which all were expected to conform; love was all -their theology. And then, afterwards, while they took the wisest and -best as teachers, and called no one Master or Head but Christ, they -were a true Church. - -I don’t believe we can look upon our ministers as the early disciples -did upon Paul and John, unless they have the spirit of Paul and John. -The ministry is trifled with too much by ministers themselves, and -it sometimes seems to me as if this was so, because it is made a -_business_. - -September 29. “Blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, -for they hear.” This is the blessing of life: to be in the light and -harmony of the love of God and reveal it. To “know the mysteries” of -the kingdom of Heaven,--what is it, but to be in God’s universe with a -soul opened, by love, to truth; unto such only “it is given.” Yet we -have hearing and vision and the spiritual sense, all of us, and for the -use of each, or misuse, or neglect, and consequent loss, every one is -to blame. Oh, for a heart always opened; to read all parables in the -light in which they were born! - -November 10. I have actually forgotten to write for months in this -book. I fear me, “my heart is nae here.” I have lived a good deal in -the past week, and the world has been doing a great business,--our -country in particular. The Prince has turned the heads of our -democratic people, and Republicans have chosen a President at last. -That is glorious! Freedom takes long strides in these better days. The -millennium is not so far off as we feared. While there is so much to -be lived outside, who cares for the little self-life of a journal? But -I never meant it to be a “subjective” one, and when it has been so, it -has been so because I was living below my ideal. Yet this shall be just -the book my thoughts shape from their various moods; when the thought -is for myself, I will write it, and when it is for another, I will -write it too. - - “Whose window opened towards the rising sun.” - -So the happy pilgrim rested, knowing that as soon as there was light -anywhere, he should have the first ray. Strange, that every Christian -sojourner should not seek a room with windows opening to the dawn! -Some of them seem afraid of the sun; they choose a chamber having -only a black, northerly outlook, and lie down saying, “What a dreary, -miserable world!” And what wonder that they should grow thin and -sickly--plants of the shade must ever be so; the soul, as well as the -body, needs large draughts of sunshine for vigorous life. - -November 27. Since I came to Beverly I have been looking over “Wilhelm -Meister” for the first time. I am disappointed in it, and have little -respect for Goethe as a man, great as was his genius. Great thoughts he -had, and they shine like constellations through the book; artistic, no -doubt he was, but everything that relates to principle or right feeling -is terribly chaotic, it seems to me. And _Wilhelm_ is an embodiment of -high-strung selfishness, under a cloak of generosity and spontaneous -good feeling. If I could despise any man, it would be such a one as he. - -December 9. God be thanked for the thinkers of good and noble thoughts! -It wakes up all the best in ourselves, to come into close contact with -others greater and better in every way than we are. Having just made -myself the possessor of “Guesses at Truth,” I feel as if I had struck a -new mine, or were a privileged traveler into regions hitherto unknown, -where there is every variety of natural and cultivated growth, where -there are ever recurring contrasts of scenery, and where even the rocks -are not barren, but glittering with veins of precious ore. How much -better these “thinking books” are than any “sensation books” of any -kind, prose or poetry! They are the true intellectual companions. One -does not read them, and put them by on the shelf, to be read again one -of these days, perhaps,--but they are wanted close at hand, and often. - - “No spring nor summer beauty has such grace - As I have seen in an Autumnal face.” - -The poet Donne wrote so of the mother of “holy George Herbert.” It is -so true! and I have seen the same. It would be worth while to live -long, to suffer much, to struggle and to endure, if one might have such -spiritual beauty blossom out of furrows and wrinkles as has been made -visible in aged human faces. Such countenances do not preach,--they are -poetry, and music, and irresistible eloquence. - -Christmas, 1860. Two or three books I have read lately. Mrs. Jameson’s -“Legends of the Madonna” is full of that fine appreciation of the -deepest beauty, even in the imperfect creations of art, where the -creation had in it the breath of spirit life, so peculiar to this -gifted woman. If I were going to travel in Europe, I should want, next -to a large historical knowledge, an intimate acquaintance with the -writings of Mrs. Jameson, to appreciate the treasures of mediæval art. - -Whittier’s “Home Ballads,” dear for friendship’s sake, though not -directly a gift from him, as were some of the former volumes. I wonder -if that is what makes me like the songs in the “Panorama,”--some of -them--better than anything in this new volume, although I know that -this is more perfect as poetry. I doubt if he will ever write anything -that I shall like so well as the “Summer by the Lakeside,” in that -volume: it is so full of my first acquaintance with the mountains, and -the ripening of my acquaintance with him, my poet-friend. How many -blessings that friendship has brought me!--among them, a glimpse into a -true home, a realizing of such brotherly and sisterly love as is seldom -seen outside of books,--and best of all, the friendship of dear Lizzie, -his sole home-flower, the meek lily blossom that cheers and beautifies -his life. Heaven spare them long to each other, and their friendship to -me! - -But the “Ballads” are full of beauty and of a strong and steady trust, -which grows more firmly into his character and poetry, as the years -pass over him. “My Psalm,” with its reality, its earnest depth of -feeling, makes other like poems, Longfellow’s “Psalm of Life,” for -instance, seem weak and affected. I like, too, the keenness and -kindness of the Whitefield poem, in which he has preserved the memory -of a Sabbath evening walk I took with him. - -Dr. Croswell’s poems contain many possibilities of poetry, and some -realities; but there always seems to me a close air, as if the -church windows were shut, in reading anything written by a devout -Episcopalian. Still, there was true Christianity in the man, and it is -also in the book. - -December 27. To-night the telegraph reports the evacuation of Fort -Moultrie by the Federal troops by order of the Executive, and the -burning of the fort. There’s something of the “spirit of ’76” in -the army, surely; South Carolina having declared herself a foe to -the Union, how could those soldiers quietly give up one of the old -strongholds to the enemy, even at the President’s command? - -But what will the end be? Is this secession-farce to end with a -tragedy? The South will suffer, by insurrection and famine; there is -every prospect of it; the way of transgressors is hard, and we must -expect it to be so. God grant that, whatever must be the separate or -mutual sufferings of North and South, these convulsions may prove to be -the dying struggles of slavery, and the birth-throes of liberty. - -It is just about a year since “Brown of Ossawatomie” was hung in the -South, for unwise interference with slavery. He was not wholly a -martyr; there were blood-stains on his hands, though no murder was -in his heart. He was a brave man and a Christian, and his blood, -unrighteously shed, still cries to heaven from the ground. Who knows -but this is the beginning of the answer? But that judicial murder was -not the only wrong for which the slaveholding South is now bringing -herself before the bar of judgment, before earth and heaven. The -secret things of darkness are coming to light, and the question will -be decided rightly, I firmly believe. And the South is to be pitied, -as all hardened and blinded wrong-doers should be! I believe the North -will show herself a noble foe, if foe the South determines to make her. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR. - - -January 20, 1861. I have run over the birth-histories of the nations of -Europe, in their chaotic rise from barbarism; and have just completed -a bird’s-eye view of Italian mediæval history, with Koeppen’s aid. The -present history of Italy interests me greatly, and I would like to be -able to link the present with the past. But what a debatable ground it -has always been, and how unsparingly it has always been made mince-meat -of, by all in authority there! - -But all that history has revealed shows no more important epoch than -the one in which we are living at this moment, in our unsettled and -discordant Union. I hope it will come out plain and positive, as a -question of right or wrong for every man to decide. It is so already, -yet all will not see. So I hope that the demon of slavery, that -“mystery of iniquity,” will make his evil way evident, that we may -return to no vile compact with sin. - -February 28. The bluebirds have come! and the meadow-lark has sung over -in the fields behind the garden, these two or three mornings. I have -dreamed of spring these many nights, and now it is coming--coming! - -What a blessing dreams are! I have heard birds sing, in bluer skies -than May could show; doves have alighted on my head; violets, such as -cannot be matched in any meadows for perfect tints and fragrance, have -blossomed at my feet; have wept for joy at the sublime beauty of Alps -grander than any real Alps,--which I would yet fain see, though I shall -not, with these eyes,--all this in my winter dreams. Through dreams, we -must always believe in a deeper and more perfect beauty than we know. -The world is lovely, but there is a lovelier, else we could not see -what we do in sleep. The glory of living is that life _is_ glorious -beyond all our possible imaginations,--the eternal life,--the “glory -that shall be revealed” in us. - -March 2. What does cause depression of spirits? Heavy head and heavy -heart, and no sufficient reason for either, that I know of. I am out -of doors every day, and have nothing unusual to trouble me; yet every -interval of thought is clouded; there is no rebound, no rejoicing as -it is my nature to rejoice, and as all things teach me to do. We are -strange phenomena to ourselves, when we will stop to gaze at ourselves; -but that I do not believe in; there are pleasanter subjects, and self -is a mere speck on the great horizon of life. - -A new volume of poems by T. B. Aldrich, just read, impresses me -especially with its daintiness and studied beauty. There are true -flashes of poetry, but most carefully trimmed and subdued, so as to -shine artistically. I believe the best poetry of our times is growing -too artistic; the study is too visible. If freedom and naturalness are -lost out of poetry, everything worth having is lost. - -March 3. Eternal life and eternal death; what do these words mean? This -is the question that comes up again and again. It has recently been -brought up by those whom I am appointed to instruct; and the question -with its answer, brings new and fearful responsibility with every -return. I am more and more convinced that the idea of _duration_ is not -the one that affects us most: for here it has proved that those who -are least careful about what they are in heart and life, are trying -hardest to convince themselves and others that the “doctrine of eternal -punishment” is not true. By making themselves believe that to be the -all-important question, they draw off their own and others’ attention -from the really momentous one,--“Am I living the eternal life? Is it -begun in me now?” - -And now I see why I have questioned whether it was right in me to -express my own doubts of this very doctrine. The final renovation of -all souls, their restoration to life in holiness and love, is certainly -a hope of mine that is not without a strong infusion of confidence; but -I dare not say it is a belief; because both reason and revelation have -left it in deep mystery; and the expression of any such belief does -not seem to me likely to help others much; certainly not those who are -indolent or indifferent regarding the true Christian life. - -Then the “loss of the soul” is in plain language spoken of by our Lord -as possible. What can that mean, but the loss of life in Him? the loss -of ennobling aspirations, of the love of all good, of the power of -seeing and seeking truth? And if this is possible to us now, by our own -choice, why not forever?--since, as free beings, our choice must always -be in our own power? - -The truth that we must all keep before us, in order to be growing -better forever, is that life is love and holiness; death, selfishness -and sin; then it is a question of life and death to be grappled with in -the deep places of every soul. - -March 5. I cannot let this birthday pass without a memorial of its -sun’s rising and setting on flower-gifts from these my girl-friends: -a wreath hung on my door in the morning, and a bouquet left in my -room at night. It brings spring to my spirit earlier than I expected; -pleasant it is to receive any token of love; and gifts like these -come so seldom, that when they do come, I am sure they mean love. -And with them comes the assurance of a deeper summer-warmth,--the -arousing of all high and holy feelings in the deep places of the soul -yet winter-sealed. “My shriveled heart” shall yet “recover greenness.” -I could not feel this “deadly cold” that sometimes pierces me, if -incapable of warmth. It may not be in an earthly clime that my nature -shall blossom out freely and fully into heavenly light; but the time -will come. - -Yesterday was the inauguration: we have a President, a country: and we -are “the Union” still, and shall so remain, our President thinks. But I -doubt whether the pride of slavery will ever bow to simple freedom, as -it must, if the self-constituted aliens return. There is a strange new -chapter in the world’s history unfolding to-day; we have not half read -it yet. - -Sabbath, April 14, 1861. This day broke upon our country in gloom; for -the sounds of war came up to us from the South,--war between brethren; -civil war; well may “all faces gather blackness.” And yet the gloom we -feel ought to be the result of sorrow for the erring, for the violators -of national unity, for those who are in black rebellion against truth, -freedom, and peace. The rebels have struck the first blow, and what -ruin they are pulling down on their heads may be guessed, though not -yet fully foretold; but it is plain to see that a dark prospect is -before them, since they have no high principle at the heart of their -cause. - -It will be no pleasure to any American to remember that he lived in -this revolution, when brother lifted his hand against brother; and -the fear is, that we shall forget that we are brethren still, though -some are so unreasonable and wander so far from the true principles of -national prosperity. Though the clouds of this morning have cleared -away into brightness, it seems as if we could feel the thunder of those -deadly echoes passing to and from Fort Sumter. But there is a right, -and God always defends it. War is not according to His wish; though it -seems one of the permitted evils yet. He will scatter those who delight -in it, and it is not too much to hope and expect that He will uphold -the government which has so long been trying to avert bloodshed. - -Another unpleasant association with this day. I went to the meeting -expecting and needing spiritual food, and received only burning coals -and ashes. There was a sermon (not by our minister, I am glad to say) -to prove that Satan will be tormented forever and ever; and the stress -of the argument was to prove the _endlessness_ of his punishment. -The text was taken from the twentieth of Revelation, a chapter which -few have the audacity to explain; but the object was to show that -“eternal,” in its highest sense, is not so plainly taught in the -Bible, as “eternal” in its lowest sense, that of duration. Truly, “The -wisdom of men is foolishness with God!”--the deep and sacred truth of -eternal life lies hidden yet in the words of Christ, for him who will -understand. It seems to me wrong to preach a theoretical sermon like -this to those who are hungering for the bread of life; who are longing -to come nearer to the Saviour, and receive His spirit. I think none -but a young minister would have preached so; certainly, a warm-hearted -Christian could not have treated the subject in that cold argumentative -way. As it was, I could only pity one who could so misinterpret his -Master’s words; he must be yet on the outer threshold of the heart of -Christ, if so near as that, and not, like the Beloved John, leaning -on His bosom. And I grieved for the “hungry sheep,” who looked up and -were not fed. But if such sermons drive all hearers to the word itself, -refusing human interpretations, they may do good. Alas! We grope in -darkness yet! Man is blinded to God’s deep meaning everywhere, in -thought and in life, in religion and in government. The dark ages are -not wholly past; nor will they be, until all fetters of thought and -limb are broken. - -Yet, through all, the birds are singing with the joy of sunshine after -April rain; and earth is beautiful and bright, beneath the promises of -spring,--written on soft skies and sweet west winds. The good God sits -yet upon His throne of love! - -April 21. The conflict is deepening; but thanks to God, there is no -wavering, no division, now, at the North! All are united, as one man; -and from a peaceful, unwarlike people, we are transformed into an army, -ready for the battle at a moment’s warning. - -The few days I have passed in Boston this week are the only days in -which I ever carried my heart into a crowd, or hung around a company -of soldiers with anything like pleasure. But I felt a soldier-spirit -rising within me, when I saw the men of my native town armed and going -to risk their lives for their country’s sake; and the dear old flag of -our Union is a thousand times more dear than ever before. The streets -of Boston were almost canopied with the stars and stripes, and the -merchants festooned their shops with the richest goods of the national -colors. - -And now there are rumors of mobs attacking our troops, of bridges -burnt, and arsenals exploded, and many lives lost. The floodgates of -war are opened, and when the tide of blood will cease none can tell. - -May 6. Through the dark and lurid atmosphere of war the light of -“Nature’s own exceeding peace” still softly falls on the earth. The -violets have opened their blue eyes by the roadside; the saxifrage -fringes the ledges with white; and the arbutus, the Pilgrim’s -mayflower, blossoms on the hills away from here; we have no hillsides -for it to grow upon, but I had some on May-day, from the hills of -Taunton. How strange the contrast between these delicate blossoms -and the flaring red flower of war that has burst into bloom with the -opening of spring! - -Every day brings something to stir the deep places of the soul, and in -the general awakening of life and liberty it may be that every heart -feels its own peculiar sorrow and happiness more keenly. There is a -deeper life in every breath I draw; and messages from distant friends -seem more near and touching. One day, from one of the most beloved -and honored, comes a kind word for my poor efforts at poetry; almost -a prophecy of some blessed days of summer life among the mountains by -and by,--and a holy benediction, “God bless thee, and keep thee!” that -fell upon my heart like the first ray of some new and unknown morning. -All life seemed green and glowing with a freshened trust. God is, and -goodness is; and true hearts are, forever! There is nothing to doubt, -even in these dark days! - -Then, the next day, a message from dear Esther (she could not write it -herself) to say that she is dying, and wants to hear from me again. And -to think that she had been drooping all these spring days, while I have -been too full of occupation with the stir of the times to write! But -she says my words have always been good for her, and surely few have -blessed me by life and thought as she has. Heaven will have one bond -for my heart, closer than any yet. I am glad that she can lie down in -peace, before the horrible scenes of bloodshed, which only a miracle -can now avert, shall be enacted. - -May 9. I had set myself to reading Maury’s “Physical Geography of the -Sea,” after a long deferring; but now that he has come out as a rank -rebel against his country, I cannot feel any interest in his theories, -ingenious as they are said to be. Like poor, wise, fallen Bacon, his -ideas may prove something to the world, “after some years have passed -over,” but one is not fond of being taught by traitors. - -May 15. A glimpse into a heart which has always been closed, both to -God and man,--what a chaos it discloses! Yet with all the elements of -order there, it is like the promise of a new creation. Such a glimpse, -such a half-unveiling, one has given me to-day, out of a soul-deep, -long-repressed longing for “something to love!” Ah, that sorrowful need -of every woman’s heart, especially; yet more joyful than sorrowful, -because the longing shows the fulfillment possible,--yes, certain. -In the heavenly life, which such aspirations prophesy, there is love -abounding, to give and to receive. And I am thankful for one more to -love. - -May 20. Esther dead! Gone home two days before I heard or dreamed of -it! But since she has gone home,--since it is only a glorious release -for her,--I will not let a thought of repining sully the gladness I -ought to share with her. It is only that one who has always lived near -the Holiest One is now called nearer still. I have known her only in -Him, and there I know her and love her still. - -May 22. They write to me of her funeral, of the white flowers beside -her head, and of her own lilies of the valley strewn over her in the -grave by one who knew how she loved them. Everything that would have -made her happy, had her eyes been open to see, and her ears to hear. -They sang the hymns she loved, “Rock of Ages,” and “I would not live -alway,” and “Thy will be done.” And my dear friend is free!--her soul -has blossomed into heavenly light! I told her once that this book was -for only her to see; I do not like my thoughts when I think them for -myself alone; and there is no other friend who would care as she cared. -Will she read them now? - -May 27. This is the gala week of spring. None of the early flowers have -quite faded, and the apple-trees are in full bloom, while elms and -maples are just wearing their lightest drapery of green, so tardily put -on. Soft breezes, sweet melody from many birds, clear sunshine, not yet -too warm,--all things are just in that state, when, if we could wish -for a standstill in nature, we should. - -And Esther has been one week in heaven! It seems to me, sometimes, as -if some new charm was added to cloud and sunshine, and spring blossoms, -since she went away; as if it were given me to see all things clearer -for her clearer vision; she would speak to me, if she could. - -Lectures these few days on historical women. Paula, Queen Elizabeth, -and Madame de Maintenon, thus far. Paula, the friend of St. Jerome, -and the woman whom the speaker made to illustrate friendship, pleased -me most, as presenting a higher ideal than either of the others. -Christianity gave woman the privilege of a pure friendship with -man; before unknown, we are told. It is one of the noblest gifts -of religion, and I wish people believed in it more thoroughly. But -only a truly elevated and chastened nature can understand real -friendship,--not a Platonic ideal only, though that is elevated, let -who will sneer at it: but a drawing of the noblest souls together, -and to the Soul of souls, for the highest ends. This is Christian -friendship; union in Christ for all beauty, all purity, all true and -noble life, which He illustrated in His own glorious life and death, -and of which He is now the inspiring power. “We are complete in Him.” - -Yes, I am sure that it is in drawing near to Him that I feel the -loveliness of such beauty as that into which the world now blossoms; -for is not He the Lord of nature, and also my Lord and Friend? And -through His great love for us, I see the ideal of all true human love. -“As I have loved you,” He said, “so must we love each other, with -tenderness, forbearance, generosity, and self-sacrifice.” - -Such friendship is possible, is eternal; and it is almost the most -precious thing in the soul’s inheritance. - -June 12. I have been free for a few days, and have taken a journey,--a -flying tour among some of my friends. How it quieted me, to be with my -peace-loving friends in these wild times of war! - -There are some friends whose presence is encouragement in all that is -good, whom to look upon is to grow stronger for the truth. There are -homes, too, over which saintly memories hang, making all within and -around them sacred, blending earth with heaven by holy sympathies. -How blessed I am, to know such friends, to enter such homes as these! -Sometimes I can truly say, “My cup runneth over!” - -June 14. Still the same old weariness of study; “weariness of the -flesh.” Books are treasures, but one may work among treasures even, -digging and delving, till there is little enjoyment in them. And the -greater pain is, that, by becoming numb to the beautiful and true, -in any form, one does not feel its power entirely, anywhere. So I -felt this morning, which I stole from my books. I sat on a ledge in a -distant field, all around me beautiful with June, and no sight or sound -of human care in sight. I sat there like a prisoner, whose chains had -dropped for the moment, but the weight and pain of them lingered still. -Yet I began to feel what it is to be free, and how sweet and soothing -nature always is, before I rose to return. I think it would not take me -long to get accustomed to freedom, and to rejoice in it with exceeding -joy. - -June 23. Weary, weary, too weary to listen patiently to the heavy -Sabbath bells; far too weary to sit in the church and listen to loud -words and loud singing. And my brain is too tired to let my heart feel -the beauty of this quiet day. I only know that the balm and beauty of -June are around me, without realizing it much. But rest will come soon, -up among the mountains with friends who love noise and confusion as -little as I do. I shall be at peace. A blessing will come to us, among -the hills. - -July 4. Crackers all around the house at night. Fire-crackers, -torpedoes, pistols, and bell-ringing, are enough to make one sick of -one’s country, if this is the only way of showing one’s patriotism. I -am sure, as I lay last night, nervously wide awake, with every shot -startling and paining me as if it had really gone through my brain, -I felt more belligerently disposed toward the young patriots than -toward the Southern rebels! But if there is no other way of nursing an -interest in free institutions among these juvenile republicans, there’s -nothing to be done but to endure the “Fourth of July” once a year, for -the general good. - -August 1. Yesterday I visited the residence of the late Hon. Daniel -Webster, at Marshfield. There was much that was interesting to see -in the great man’s home; I think the two things that pleased me most -were the portraits of his mother, and his black cook, or housekeeper. -The latter was a fine painting, the face so full of intelligence, -gratitude, and all good feelings; and there was an evidence of the -true sympathy and home comfort between master and servant, if it is -well to use those words, in the picture itself, the care with which -it was painted, as well as the speaking face. The other was simply an -old-fashioned cut profile, in black outline, and underneath it the -words, “My excellent mother--D. Webster.” - -Out of doors, the wonderful old elm was the greatest attraction, with -its branches sweeping the ground, and making an arbor and a cathedral -at once, before the threshold. Webster himself--but it is not well to -call up anything but pleasant memories of the dead; and these do linger -about the home he loved. What the nation thinks of him may be recorded -elsewhere. - -August 2. I visited Plymouth, placed my foot on the memorable -“Plymouth Rock,” of the Pilgrims (now so enclosed and covered as to -leave scarcely space sufficient for my large foot to rest upon), looked -at Mayflower curiosities in the hall, books, shoes, and fans of the -olden time, and more especially pewter platters, which, judging from -some ancient will I looked over in the Court House, were the most -important personal property of the Puritans. John Alden’s well-worn -Bible was open at the date of publication, 1620, so he had it new -for his westward voyage; I wondered whether it was the gift of some -friend left behind, or his own purchase. Miles Standish’s long rapier -was scarcely more interesting to me than the big kettle labeled with -his name, which might have supplied the colony with dinner, judging -from its size. Some old documents relating to the Quakers caught my -attention; one especially, wherein Winthrop demurred from signing -his name to a report of Commissioners, wherein this troublesome sect -were adjudged worthy to be put to death for their “cursed opinions -and devilish tennets,”--Winthrop signed, leaving testimony beside his -name, that it was “as a querry, not as an act.” Coming back to George -Fox’s journal, which I had borrowed for vacation reading, I could not -but smile at the difference a hundred or two years will make; I can -admire both Puritan and Quaker for their sincerity, and only wish they -could have understood each other better. There is no defense for the -persecution of the “Fathers,” except the imperfection of human nature, -and there is only this for the misguided ways into which the Quakers -were led, by mistaking their own fancies for the “inner light.” Better -death on both sides (for what each held to be truth) than indifference -to truth. And, stepping among the bones of the Pilgrims, on Burying -Hill, and looking away over the waves which brought them and freedom to -New England, and so to the Union, I could not but contrast the struggle -of that day with the present war for liberty against oppression. It is, -in reality, the “Old Colony” against the “Old Dominion,” or rather, the -latter against the former, aristocracy against the republic. God will -prosper us now as then; but perhaps we are to be brought as low before -Him as they were, before our cause can be victorious. - -August 3. Fishing on the “Indian Pond” in Pembroke half the day, -catching sunfish and shiners, red perch and white; my first exploits of -the kind. It is a pleasant day to remember, for the green trees and the -blue waters, for lilies wide awake on the bosom of the waters in the -morning sunshine, for fresh breezes, and for pleasant company. - -August 11. At Amesbury,--with two of the dearest friends my life is -blessed with,--dear quiet-loving Lizzie, and her poet brother. I love -to sit with them in the still Quaker worship, and they love the free -air and all the beautiful things as much as they do all the good and -spiritual. The harebells nodding in shade and shine on the steep banks -of the Merrimac, the sparkle of the waters, the blue of the sky, the -balm of the air, and the atmosphere of grave sweet friendliness which I -breathed for one calm “First-day” are never to be forgotten. - -August 20. One of the stillest moonlight evenings,--not a sound -heard but the bleat of a lamb, and the murmur of the river; all the -rest a cool, broad, friendly mountainous silence. Peace comes down -with the soft clouds and mists that veil the hills; the Pemigewasset -sings all night in the moonshine, and I lie and dream of the beauty -of those hill-outlines around Winnipiseogee, that I looked upon with -so satisfied a greeting from the car window on my way hither. The -mountains do not know their own beauty anywhere but by a lakeside. So -it is: beauty sets us longing for other beauty; the clouds moving above -their summits suggest possibilities that earthly summits, at their -grandest, can never attain. And no dream can suggest the possibilities -of the beautiful that “shall be revealed.” - -August 24. “The eye is not satisfied with seeing, and the ear with -hearing,” and one can never tire of the vision of mountain landscapes, -and the quiet song of summer rivers. Every day since I have been here -in this beautiful village of Campton, I have driven through some new -region; sometimes into the very heart of the hills, where nothing is to -be seen but swelling slopes on every side, hills which have not quite -attained mountainhood, but which would be mountains anywhere but in -the “Granite State;” and sometimes out into the interval openings of -the river; with new views of “Alps on Alps” on the northern horizon, -the gate of the Franconia Notch opening dimly afar with its mountain -haystacks piled beside it. It is rest to soul and body to be among -these mountains; one thing only is lacking; the friends I had hoped to -see here are not with me. But too much joy is not to be looked for; -let me hope that they are among scenes more beautiful, and with dearer -friends than I. Yet how delightful it would have been, to be with the -best friends, among the most beautiful scenes. - -August 25. I am enjoying the society of my old friend and former -associate teacher. She is more gifted than I, in most ways, and it -is pleasant to talk to some one who, you take it for granted, has a -clearer understanding, and deeper insight, and more adequate expression -than yourself. - -August 28. Yesterday a rare treat; a ride to Waterville (to the “end -of the wood” as they speak of it here) in a three-seated open wagon. I -wish they would have only open ones for mountain travel. - -September 5. Why do I not love to be near the sea better than among -the mountains? Here is my home, if birthplace makes home. But no, it -is not my natural preference; I believe I was born longing after the -mountains. And rivers and lakes are better to me than the ocean. I -remember how beautiful the Merrimac looked to me in childhood, the -first true river I ever knew; it opened upon my sight and wound its way -through my heart like a dream realized; its harebells, its rocks, and -its rapids, are far more fixed in my memory than anything about the -sea. Yet the vastness and depth and the changes of mist and sunshine -are gloriously beautiful; I know and feel their beauty. Still, I admire -it most in glimpses; a bit of blue between the hills, only a little -more substantial than the sky, and a white sail flitting across it; or -when it is high-tide calm,--one broad, boundless stillness,--then there -is rest in the sea, but it never rests me like the strong silent hills; -they bear me up on their summits into heaven’s own blue eternity of -peace. But is it right to wrap one’s own being in this mantle of peace, -while the country is ravaged by war?--its garments rolled in blood, -brother fighting against brother to the death? The tide of rebellion -surges higher and higher, and there is no sadder proof that we are -not the liberty-loving people that we used to call ourselves, than to -learn that there are traitors in the secret councils of the nation, -in forts defended by our own bravest men; among women, too: “Sisters! -oh, Sisters! Shame o’ ladies!” A disloyal woman at the North, with -everything woman ought to hold dear at stake in the possible fall of -this government,--it is too shameful! I hope every one such will be -held in “durance vile” until the war is over. - -But will it end until the question is brought to its true -issue,--liberty or slavery? I doubt it: and I would rather the war -should last fifty years, than ever again make the least compromise with -slavery, that arch-enemy of all true prosperity, that eating sin of our -nation. Rather divide at once, rather split into a thousand pieces, -than sink back into this sin! - -The latest news is of the capture of the Hatteras Forts, a great gain -for us, and a blight to privateering at the South;--with a rumor of -“Jeff Davis’s” death, which nobody believes because it is so much -wished. Yet to his friends he is a man, and no rebel. War is a bitter -curse,--it forbids sympathy, and makes us look upon our enemies as -scarcely human; and we cannot help it, when our foes are the foes of -right. - -Norton, September 8. Am I glad for trials, for disappointments, for -opportunities for self-sacrifice, for everything God sends? Ah! indeed -I do not know! How many times, when we say, “Try me, and know my -heart,” the answer is, “Ye know not what ye ask!” And I know not why, -in some states of mind and body, what _seems_ a very little trouble (or -would, if told another), should be so oppressive. - -But “little,” and “great,” in the world’s vocabulary, are very -different terms from what they are in individual experience; and -submission, and grateful acquiescing obedience to divine will, are to -be learned by each in his own capacity. Two weeks ago, I was saying -over to myself, every day, as if it were a new thought, Keble’s lines,-- - - “New treasures still, of countless price, - God will provide for sacrifice.” - -And as those words kept recurring, as if whispered by a spirit, -I thought I should be glad to have my best treasures to give for -sacrifice, to make others happy with what was most precious to me. And -as my way seemed uncertain, and for a day or two I knew not whether -to move or to sit still, I said, “Lead me! Behold the handmaid of the -Lord; let it be unto me according to Thy will,--only let me do nothing -selfishly.” And the answer came in the withdrawal of a blessing from -me; no doubt with purposes of greater blessing to some one, somewhere -and somehow; and I am only half reconciled as yet. Shall I ever believe -that God knows best, and does what is best for me, and for us all? It -is easy enough in theory, but these great and little trials tell us the -truth about ourselves,--show us our insincerity. And now I close this -record, which has been my nearest companion for so many months. Esther -is gone. Is there any friend who cares enough for me just as I am, to -keep it in memory of me? Or had I better bury it from my own eyes and -all others’? It may be good for me to read the record of myself as I -have been,--cheerful or morbid,--and of what I have read, thought, -and done, wisely or unwisely. The “Country Parson” thinks a diary a -good thing; and I do too, in many ways, but I would rather write for -a friend’s kindly eyes than for my own: even about myself. Therefore -letters are to me a more genial utterance than a journal, and I would -write any journal as if for some one who could understand me fully, -love me, and have patience with me through all. I do not know if now -there is any such friend for me; yet dear friends I have, and more and -more precious to me, every year. If these were my last words, I would -set them down as a testimony to the preciousness of human friendships; -dearer and richer than anything else on earth. By them is the -revelation of the divine in the human; by them heaven is opened, truth -is made clear, and life is worth the living. So have I been blessed, -drawn heavenward by saintly messengers in the garb of mortality. So -shall it be forever, for true love is--eternal, it is life itself. - -September 12. Is it always selfish to yield to depression? Can one help -it, if the perspective of a coming year of lonely labor seems very -long? No. I shall not be alone; I shall feel the sympathy of all the -good and true, though apart from them; and though I cannot come very -near to any under this roof, yet to all I can come nearer than I think -I can. And by and by these strange restless yearnings will be stilled; -I shall quiet my soul in the peace of God. He has said, “I will never -leave thee nor forsake thee!” Oh! what is any woman’s life worth -without the friendship of the One ever near, the only divine? - -Yes, I will make my work my friend. My trials, my vexations, my cares, -shall speak good words to me, and I will not blind my eyes to the -beauty close at hand, because of the lost glory of my dreams. I wish I -could be more to all these young glad beings,--it is not in me to touch -the chords of many souls at once, but I will enlarge my sympathies. - -October 5, 1861. This first week of October, this month of months, -shall not pass without some record of its beauty. Norton woods and -Norton sunsets are the two redeeming features of the place; as its -levelness is its bane. What is it in us that refuses to love levels? Is -it that there is no searching and toiling for anything, up cool heights -and down in sheltered hollows? - -These splendidly tinted maples before my window would be a hundred-fold -more splendid if lifted up among the hemlocks and pines of the -mountainsides. Oh! how magnificent those New Hampshire hills must be -now, in the sunset of the year! - -The place is a level, and boarding-school life is a most wearisome -level to me, yet flowers spring up, and fruits grow in both. We are to -welcome “all that makes and keeps us low;” yet it seems to me as if it -would be good for me to ascend oftener to the heights of being; I fear -losing the power and the wish to climb. - -Let us say we are struggling to put down slavery, and we shall be -strong. - -October 8. Yesterday two letters came to me, each from a friend I have -never seen, yet each with a flower-like glow and perfume that made my -heart glad. And at evening a graceful little basket of fruit was left -in my room, and this morning a bunch of fringed gentians, blue with the -thoughtfulness of the sky that hangs over the far solitary meadows, the -last answer from earth to heaven from the frosty fields. - -October 11. Rain: and just one of those dreary drizzling rains which -turn one in from the outer world upon one’s own consciousness,--a most -unhealthy pasture land for thought, in certain states of mind and body. -Just how far we should live in self-consciousness, and how far live -an outside life, or rather, live in the life of others, is a puzzle. -Without something of an inner experience, it is not easy to enter into -other lives, to their advantage; some self-knowledge is necessary, to -keep us from intruding upon others; but it is never good to make self -the centre of thought. - -October 13. George Fox’s journal is a leaf from a strange chapter -of the world’s history: from the history of religion. If a plain -man should come among us now, asking leave of none to speak, but -“testifying” in religious assemblies to the reality of the inward -life of light and peace in Christ, his blunt and simple ways might -be unpleasing to many, but every scoffer would look on, more with -wonder than with anger. Many, I am sure, would welcome such a voice -of sincerity and “livingness,” sounding through the outward services -of religion. The days of religious persecution can scarcely return -again; nor, it is to be hoped, the days of those strange phenomena -which so irritated our ancestors; men walking as “signs” to the people, -declaring their dreams to be visions from God, and uttering wild, -unmeaning prophecies for inspiration. How hard it is to learn what -“true religion and undefiled” is! _Life_ is a better word for this -universal bond than _religion_. And we shall see, sometime, that it -is only by the redemption of all our powers, all that is in us and in -the outward world, that we are truly “saved.” We must receive the true -light through and through, we must keep our common sense, our talents, -our genius, just the same;--only that light must glow through all, to -make all alive. And when home, and friendships, and amusements, and all -useful and beautiful thoughts and things are really made transparent -with that divine light, when nothing that God has given us is rejected -as “common or unclean,” the “new heaven and the new earth” will have -been created, and we shall live in our Creator and Redeemer. - -The great difference between the early Quakers and the Puritans seems -to me to be that the former had larger ideas of truth, deeper and -broader revelations, yet mixed with greater eccentricities, as might be -expected. The Puritans were most anxious for a place where they could -worship undisturbed, as their consciences dictated; the Quakers were -most desirous that the Word of Life should be spoken everywhere,--the -Light be revealed to all. Each made serious mistakes,--what else could -we expect, from the best that is human? And the errors of both were, in -great part, the errors of the age,--intolerance and fanaticism. - -October 12. How refreshing the clear cold air is, after the summer-like -fogs and rains we have had! I love the cold; the northern air is -strengthening; it has the breath of the hills in it, the glow of -Auroral lights, and the purity of the eternal snows. There is little -of the south in my nature; the north is my home; Italy and the tropics -will do for dream excursions; I should long for the sweeping winds of -the hillsides, if I were there. - -October 15. The beauty of this morning was wonderful; something in the -air made me feel like singing. I thought my weariness was all gone; but -leaning over books brought it back. After school four of us rode off in -the wagon through the woods; and delighted ourselves with the sunset, -the katydids, and the moonlight. - -October 22. I heard Charles Sumner on the Rebellion: my first sight -and hearing of the great anti-slavery statesman. He was greeted with -tremendous applause, and every expression of opposition to slavery -was met with new cheers. He does not seem to me like a man made to -awaken enthusiasm; a great part of his address was statistical, and -something we all knew before,--the long preparation of this uprising of -the rebels; and his manner was not that of a man surcharged with his -subject, but of one who had thoroughly and elegantly prepared himself -to address the people. At this time we are all expecting orators to -speak as we feel,--intensely; perhaps it is as well that all do not -meet our expectations. One idea which he presented seemed to me to be -worth all the rest, and worth all the frothy spoutings for “Union” that -we hear every day; it was that our battalions must be strengthened by -_ideas_, by _the_ idea of freedom. That is it. Our men do not know what -they are fighting for; freedom is greater than the Union, and a Union, -old or new, with slavery, no true patriot will now ask for. May we be -saved from that, whatever calamities we may endure! - -The ride to and from Boston has a new picture since summer: the camp -at Readville, just under the shadow of the Milton hills. It is a -striking picture, the long array of white tents, the soldiers marching -and countermarching, and the hills, tinted with sunset and autumn at -once, looking down upon the camping ground. Little enough can one -realize what war is, who sees it only in its picturesque aspect, who -knows of it only by the newspapers, by knitting socks for soldiers, and -sewing bed-quilts for the hospitals. I should give myself in some more -adequate way, if we were definitely struggling for freedom; for there -is more for women to do than to be lookers-on. - -October 27. Looking out on the clouds at sunset, the thought of God -as constantly evolving beauty from His own being into all created -forms, struck me forcibly, as the right idea of our lives; that, like -Him, we should be full of all truth and love, and so grow into beauty -ourselves, and impart loveliness to all we breathe upon, or touch. -Inspiration from Him is all we have to impart in blessing to others. - -What is the meaning of these moods and states that fetter some of us -so? I have seen life just as I see it now, and been glad in it, while -for many months all things have brought me a nightmare-feeling that I -could not shake off. I know it is the same world, the same life, the -same God; I do not doubt Him, nor the great and good ends that He is -working out for all; yet nothing wears its old delight. - -October 30. “And with a child’s delight in simple things.” That I have -not lost all this, I felt to-day, in receiving a note from an unknown -person,--from one who had read some poems of mine in childhood, and -now, a woman, bears something not unworthy the name of poet; to hear -some new voice speaking to me in this way, as a friend, is pleasant to -me. I have written as I have felt, in my verses; they have been true -words from my deepest life, often; and I am glad whenever they call -forth a sincere answer, as now;--one word of real appreciation repays -me for pages of mere fault-finding. Yet a kind fault-finder is the best -of friends. - -What is the meaning of “gossip?” Doesn’t it originate with sympathy, -an interest in one’s neighbor, degenerating into idle curiosity and -love of tattling? Which is worse, this habit, or keeping one’s self -so absorbed intellectually as to forget the sufferings and cares of -others, to lose sympathy through having too much to think about? - -October 31. I must hurry my mind, when I have to press ancient history -into a three-months’ course, and keep in advance of my class in study, -with rhetoric and mental philosophy requiring a due share of attention -besides, and the whole school to be criticised in composition and -furnished with themes. - -November 5. Governor Andrew’s proclamation was a very touching one. -Thanksgiving will be a sad day this year, yet a more sacred day than -ever. I read his allusion to the Potomac, as now a sacred river to us, -since the blood of our soldiers had mingled with its waters; and we -felt that one throb of patriotism unites us all, however we must suffer. - -November 7. Frémont is removed! It seems too bad, for none could -awaken enthusiasm as he did, everywhere. And yet military law is all -that holds us up now, and we have to trust blindly that the rulers are -right. It may prove to be so, but to withdraw him when within a few -miles of the enemy seems too hard. We shall respect him all the more, -to see him bearing it nobly for his country’s sake. - -November 14. The best news for us since the war began has come within -a day or two; and it is confirmed. Beaufort, S. C., is taken by -a federal fleet, and the secessionists are in real consternation. -All agree that this is a decisive blow, and if we can maintain our -position, the war will end speedily. But after that, there will be the -same question to settle--“Are we one country or not?” We shall not -be any more agreed than we were before, until slavery is abolished. -The idea that the negroes are attached to the “institution” is well -shown up now, when two hundred slaves, the property of one man in the -very heart of slavedom, hasten at once to board our war steamers for -protection; and when their masters vainly try to whip them before them -in their retreat. If now our government undertakes to cultivate cotton -by free labor of colored men, it will be a grand step towards the -general liberation. And if thus the South can be made to honor labor, -we may by and by be reunited in spirit; for that is the element of -separation. We are carried onward in a way we little know, and it is -impossible not to rejoice when we feel ourselves borne by a mighty and -loving Power towards a glorious goal. - -November 18. Much of our Christianity is not of a sufficiently enlarged -type to satisfy an educated Hindoo; not that Unitarianism is necessary, -for that system has but a surface-liberalism which can become very -hard, and finally very narrow, as its history among us has often -proved. It is not a system at all that we want: it is Christ, the -“wisdom of God and the power of God,” Christ, the loving, creating, -and redeeming friend of the world, Christ, whose large, free being -enfolds all that is beautiful in nature and in social life; and all -that is strong and deep and noble in the sanctuary of every living -soul. When Christians have truly learned Christ, they can be true -teachers. - -November 24. Thanksgiving is over; I have been to Beverly and returned. -I am glad they wanted me so much, for I should not have gone without; -and in this place there is little in harmony with our best home -festival. Our governor’s proclamation was of the true Puritan stamp; -and the day was one to be kept religiously, in view of our present -national troubles, and of the strong Power that is bearing us through -and over them. We are sure that God is on our side; and one of the -things to be most thankful for is that the desire for the liberation of -the slave is becoming universal. Our armies, that began to fight for -Union alone, now see that Union is nothing without freedom, and when -this Northern heart is fully inspired with that sentiment the Northern -hand will strike a decisive blow; such a blow as only the might of -right can direct. - -November 25. The first snow! Light and thick as swan’s-down, it wraps -the shivering bosom of mother earth. Last night I went to sleep with an -uncurtained window before me, and the still, bright stars looking in; -I awoke to find the air dim and heavy with snow, and all the treetops -bending in graceful gratitude; and to think aloud the lines,-- - - “Oh! if our souls were but half as white - As the beautiful snow that fell last night!” - -I do not like this vague kind of unrest, and this dissatisfaction with -myself which returns so often. I am willing to be dissatisfied, but I -want to know exactly with what, that I may mend. I believe the trouble -partly is that I do not, cannot, love very much the people that I see -oftenest. Their thoughts and ways are so different from mine I cannot -comfortably walk with them. It seems to me as if we were like travelers -on the same journey, but in paths wide apart; and we can only make one -another hear by effort and shouting. Whether this is wrong, or simply -one of the things that cannot be helped, I cannot clearly see; but I am -afraid that I am too willing to excuse myself for so doing. - -November 26. The last day of school; my classes all examined, and -to-morrow we scatter, to gather ourselves together again in two weeks. -I am not sure whether I like or dislike these frequent changes; on the -whole I think I like them; for they break up the monotony, and then -one does get so totally glued to the manner of school life: there is -no better name for the cohesive power that makes us one household for -the time. I do not believe it possible (for me, at least, and I doubt -whether it is for any woman) to have quite a home feeling, among the -many living together, in a place like this. There is not expansive -power enough in me to take in all. - -Beverly, December. The two weeks of vacation are nearly over, and I -have done nothing but sew. I had planned to read, and paint, and walk, -and rest; but things are as they are, and one cannot go in tatters. I -like to be somewhat troubled and absorbed in the necessities of life, -_once in a while_; it is rather pleasant than otherwise to feel that -something urgently requires my attention; and then this is the way to -realize how three fourths of the inhabitants of this world live to eat, -drink, and wear clothes. - -December 13. Vacation is over; and here I am at Norton again, not so -fully awake and in earnest about school work as I wish I was. - -My whole life has lost the feeling of reality; I cannot tell why. -Alike in the city, by the seashore, and here on the levels of this -now leafless flat-land, I feel as if I were “moving about in worlds -unrealized.” I know well enough the theory of life; what principles -must sustain me; what great objects there are to live for; and still -there remains the same emptiness, the same wonder in everything I do. -I feel as I imagine the world might have felt, when going through some -of its slow transitions from chaos into habitable earth,--waiting for -sunshine, and bursting buds, and running rivers. I suppose I am not -ready for full life yet. - -December 16. To-day there are rumors of a possible war with England, -on account of the affair of Mason and Slidell, now prisoners in Boston -harbor. It will be an outrage on humanity, a proof that England’s -pompous declamations against slavery are all hypocritical, if this -should be done; for all good authorities have declared that a war on -this account would never be, unless a pretext for war was wanted. -Perhaps Providence intends that this shall be brought out definitely as -a struggle for principles; I think the nation and the army need some -such lesson, and they will not learn it unless it is made very plain. - -December 22. I have found what are to be my two books of Bible -study,--my two Sabbath books for the term. They are Neander’s “History -of the Church,” and Conybeare and Howson’s “Life of St. Paul.” I have -commenced them both, and find that satisfaction in them that is only -met with by coming in contact with a character,--gifted, scholarly and -Christian. - -How I should like to live a free life with nature one year through! -out in the bracing winds, the keen frosty air, and over the crackling -snowcrust, wherever I would; and then in summer, seek the mountains or -the sea, as I chose; no study, no thoughts, but what came as a thing -of course; no system, except nature’s wild ways, which have always -their own harmony, evident enough when one enters into them, though -understood by no mere observer. - -December 28. A pretty table found its way into my room Christmas -morning, a gift contributed from two classes: I was half sorry and -half glad to receive it; I don’t think I appreciate this kind of a -present--it represents so many persons, some vaguely and some clearly -fixed in memory--so much as a simpler token from the heart of one -friend. And yet I feel the kindness which prompted the gift, and am -grateful for it, I am sure. - -How ashamed one is obliged to be just now of the “mother country”! -_Step-mother Country_ England ought to be called, for her treatment -of us in our trouble. It is hard to believe that all she has said -against slavery was insincere, and that she would really like to see -the slave-power established and flourishing on the ruins of our free -Republic; but her actions say so. - -Yet we are not guiltless; not wholly purged from the curse yet. The -army is not entirely anti-slavery in principles; and we cannot look for -success, nor wish it, but for the sake of freedom. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -INTELLECTUAL EXPERIENCES. - - -January 19, 1862. How hard it is to know anything of history, to -learn enough to feel at all competent to teach! I said I would look -through Gibbon, but I had hardly reached the times of Julian, before my -class must be hurrying beyond Charlemagne, and I must turn to French -histories to help them along. Then, between de Bonnechose and Sir James -Stephen, with the various writers on the Middle Ages, which must be -consulted for the history of the feudal system, free cities, and the -Papacy, comes in the remembrance of my Bible class in the early history -of the church, and I must give some hours to Neander! Meanwhile, -another class is reading Shakespeare, and I want them to be somewhat -critical, and must therefore read, myself; while yet another class in -Metaphysics are beginning the history of philosophy, and I want them to -know something about Plato, and the Alexandrian schools, and knowing -very little myself I must find out something first. So I bring to my -room the volumes containing the “Timæus” and the “Republic;” but in -the midst of it, I remember that there are some compositions to be -corrected, that I may be ready for the new ones Monday morning. This -is pretty much where Saturday night finds me, and so the weeks go on, -this winter. I am glad to be busy, but I dislike to be superficial. -Now, if I could teach only history, I should feel as though I might -hope to do something. Girls will be ill-educated, until their teachers -are allowed the time and thought which teachers of men are expected to -take. - -January 22. I am trying to get an idea which is rolling in grand chaos -through my mind into shape for a composition theme for my first class -this afternoon. It is the power of the soul in moulding form,--from the -great Soul of the universe, down to lower natures,--down to animal and -vegetable life. Plato’s doctrine of ideas is the only starting-point -I can think of; some thoughts of Swedenborg’s will help; then Lavater -and the Physiologists and Psychologists. But I want them to use it -practically; to take particular persons, features, shape, gait, manner, -voice, life; and then observe closely how beauty develops itself in -flowers, leaves, pebbles, into infinite variety, yet according to -invariable laws. It is a hard thing to bring such subjects into shape -which young girls can grasp; yet they are the best things for opening -the mind upon a broad horizon. - -For a review of the week I must think of Plato; the “Republic,” and -“Timæus,” and “Critias,” I have succeeded in looking through; I have -heard my “Mental” class read some of the rest. In the “Republic,” I -remember it is decided that youths should be taught in music,--no -enfeebling melodies, but those which strengthen and build up the soul -in all that is vast and true. Plato’s idea of music comprehends more -than we read in the word; and I see how it is that an education should -be musical,--the spiritual fabric rising like the walls of Troy to the -Orphean strains of noble thoughts and impulses. - -I remember, too, that he would forbid some of the stories of the Gods -to be told to children; those which should needlessly alarm them, or -weaken their reverence. In that corrupt and yet beautiful system, it -was necessary indeed; the same idea might be not injuriously carried -out in a system of Christian education. In the Hebrew Scriptures there -is much that puzzles the maturest minds, sincere and earnest in their -search for truth; yet these narratives are the first knowledge that -children often have of the Bible. I would have them learn only the New -Testament, until they have learned something of the real nature of the -world they are ushered into. When they study other history, they will -be better able to understand this; and the history of the Jews is, -it seems to me, a wonderful part of the world’s record, so connected -with that of other nations as to make them plainer, revealing the -handwriting of an Almighty Providence everywhere. - -I would not have the child begin life with the terror which hung over -my childhood: told that I was a sinner before I knew what sin meant, -and fearful pictures of eternal punishment which awaited all sinners -at death haunting my dreams, so that I was afraid to sleep, and more -afraid to die. I know they say (a good man has just said it to me) that -there is less vigor of mind and character because these things are less -taught as a part of religion than formerly; yet I am sure that blind -fear cannot invigorate,--it must degrade. I believe that I went far -down from my earliest ideals of life after hearing these things; and it -was a long straying amid shadowy half-truths, and glooms of doubt, and -stagnations of indifference, before I came back to the first thought -of my childhood. No: let a child’s life be beautiful as God meant it -to be, by keeping it near Him, by showing to its simplicity the things -which are lovely, and true, and pure, and of good report. The knowledge -of evil comes rapidly enough, in the petty experiences of life; but -a child will soon love evil and grow old in it, if driven away from -the divine light of love; if not allowed to think of God chiefly as a -friend. And just here is where Christ speaks to the hearts of little -children; they know Him as soon as He is permitted to speak, and are -known of Him. - -January 29. I believe that letter-writing is more of a reality to me -now than conversation; short though my notes are, I can speak thus to -those who need me, and whom I need. - -Repose of character, and the power of forgetting, are great -compensations for a tried, hurried, and worried life. And there is, in -all but the most unusual lives, something like this, which enables -people to laugh at care, and triumph over grief; though it is never -perfectly done, except by a thorough trust in the goodness of God,--a -faith in the watching love. - -February 5. I did have the sleigh-ride with my young friends, as I -expected, and a merry one it was. We just whirled through Attleboro, -and back again. All I remember of the ride is the icicles that hung -on the orchard trees and, just at sunset, the tints that fell on a -slope of unstained snow. They were the softest, coolest shades of blue -and violet, with here and there a suggestion of rose or crimson, a -perfectly magical combination of shadow colors, only half escaped from -their white light-prison of the snow. It was a hint of the beauty of an -Alpine or a Polar landscape, such as travelers tell about. The young -moon followed one queenly star down the west, as we returned, with a -song of “Glory Hallelujah,” and “Homeward Bound.” - -February 6. The clear blue of this morning’s sky has melted into -a mass of snowy clouds, and now earth and sky are of the same -hue,--white--white,--the purest crystalline snow is on the ground, and -more is coming. The violet hues in the north at sunrise and sunset are -very beautiful. - -I am glad I took my walk in the woods this morning while the sky was -bright; there are fine tints there always on the trees, various browns -of withered oaks and beech-leaves, still persistent, and leaning -against the stout pine trunks, that hold up their constant green to -the sky. Two trees I noticed for the first time, a pine and a maple, -which have grown up with their trunks in close union, almost one from -infancy. One keeps his dark green mantle on, the other has lost her -light summer robe, but is covered all over with the softest clinging -lichens, that contrast their pale green tints with the white-gray bark -in a charming way. When snow falls on these lichen-draped boughs, the -softness of the white above and the white below is wonderful. I think -Neck-woods is a grand studio; when weary of my own white walls I can -always find refreshment there. - -February 7. The news of Sarah Paine’s death overwhelms me,--so young, -so sensitive, so genial and accomplished; she seemed made to enter -deeply into the reality and beauty of an earthly life. No pupil of mine -has ever yet come near me in so many ways to sympathize and gladden as -she. Only a few weeks since, we walked together in the woods, so full -of life and hope she was; and now, in a moment,--but why this sorrow, -since she is but suddenly called home to deeper love and purer life? - -How every failure of tenderness and perfect appreciation on my part -comes back to pain me now! Why have I not written to her? Why have I -waited for her to write to me? Oh, what is worse than to fail of loving -truly? - -February 13. I had decided to go to her funeral, and went to Boston for -the purpose, but a sleepless night left me too wretched to undertake -the journey, and I spent the days in Boston feeling too miserable to -come back here, or to stay there. How much of my life is gone with this -friend!--gone? no; translated, lifted up with her to her new estate! -Yet much _is_ gone from the world: the beauty of the walks about here, -of the studies we have loved and pursued together,--I hardly knew how -much this young life had woven itself into mine. And it was the deeper, -spiritual sympathies fusing all love into one deep harmony of life,--it -was the love of the all-loving One that brought us closest together; -and that makes “_was_” the wrong word to use, in speaking of her; she -_is_ my friend still, and the light of her new life will enter into -mine. - -One after another, those who have come nearest to me to love, to -sympathize, to guide, pass on into purer air, and make me feel that my -life is not here; my _home_ is with the beloved. - -February 17. There is news to-day of great victories in progress for -us. Fort Donelson is surrounded; there has been a deadly fight, and our -flag waves upon the outer fortifications. It is said that the rebels -must yield, as all approaches are cut off, but it is the struggle of -desperation with them, as this is the key to the whole Southwest. There -are victories in Missouri and in North Carolina also; more prisoners -taken than our generals know what to do with; but all this is purchased -at _such_ a price of blood! - -In the days I stayed in Boston last week I visited two galleries of -paintings, ancient and modern. The old paintings are chiefly curious, -not beautiful, often very coarse in conception. I should like to see -something really great by the “old masters;” but I suppose such things -are only to be seen in Europe. - -I believe I love landscape more than figures, unless these latter are -touched by a master’s hand. To be commonplace in dealing with nature -does not seem quite so bad as in dealing with human beings. - -I heard Ralph Waldo Emerson speak too. “Civilization” was his subject; -nobly treated, except that the part of Hamlet was left out of Hamlet. -What is civilization without Christianity? There was a kind of religion -in what he said; an acknowledging of all those elements which are the -result of Christianity; indeed, Emerson’s life and character are such -as Christianity would shape. He only refuses to call his inspiration by -its right name. The source of all great and good thought is in Christ; -so I could listen to the Sage of Concord and recognize the voice of the -Master he will not own in words. - -“_Hitch_ your wagon to a star!” was his way of telling his hearers to -live nobly, according to the high principles which are at the heart of -all life. The easiest way to live, he said, was to follow the order -of the Universe. So it is. “The stars in their courses fought against -Sisera;” but it was because Sisera would go the opposite way to the -stars. This is the secret of our struggle, and of our victory that will -be. We have entangled ourselves with wrong, have gone contrary to the -Divine Order; now, if we come out plainly and strongly on the right -side, we triumph; for Right cannot fail. This war will make a nation of -great and true souls; if we fight for freedom. And what else is worth -the conflict, the loss of life? The Union, a Country--a home? Yes, if -these may be preserved in honor and humanity, not otherwise. Better be -parceled out among the nations than keep the stigma of inhumanity upon -our great domain. Freedom for slavery is no freedom to a noble soul. - -February 21. I have often wondered what is the meaning of these dim -forebodings, that, without any apparent cause, will sometimes make -us so uneasy. The air is bright, cold, and clear; everything without -says, “Rejoice and be strong!” everything within is darkened by vague, -unaccountable flutterings of anticipated ill. No sorrow can come to -_me_ which will not involve some greater grief of other hearts, so I -dread the more what I have to dread. I think I cannot say of anything -that is dear to me, that it is all my own; can any one? Mothers, -lovers, husbands, wives--these have exclusive joys, and exclusive -losses to risk. I can lose much, for I love much; yet there is nothing -on earth that I can feel myself holding firmly as mine. So I seek to -live in others’ joy and sorrow. A life large and deep in its love, is -the privilege of those placed as I am; it must be either that, or quite -unloving, shut up in its own small case of selfishness. “When Thou -shalt enlarge my heart,” this large feeling of rest will be found. - -I have plans floating in my mind for the education of my nieces. I -could not afford to have them _here_ without a salary much increased. - -I think I could conduct their education myself, in some small school, -better than here, more according to my own ideas; whether that is -really better or not, only the results would show. But some of their -studies I know I could make more valuable to them than those to whom -they might be trusted. Then I have an idea of moral, religious, and -mental development going on at the same time, which I do not often see -carried out; perhaps I should not do it, but I should like to try. -Having no children of my own I feel a responsibility for those who are -nearest me. How much of an effort one should make for such a purpose as -this, I do not know. So far, I have been evidently _led_ into the way I -ought to take; may it be so still! - -It was a new sight to me, to see a long line of cavalry, extending far -out of sight down the street, a forest of bayonets at first, and then -an army of horses. It was our National Guard; and it looked like a -strong defense, that bristling line of bayonets; but it made me very -sad to think that men must leave home, and peaceful occupations, and -moral influences, to punish rebellious brethren, and keep them in awe. -War, as a business, is one that I cannot learn to believe in, although -I must realize it as a necessity. - -February 26. For any of us to comprehend thoroughly Kant, Fichte, -Schelling, Hegel--to say nothing of the plainer sensualistic -systems--in the little time we can give to the study, is quite out -of the question. And yet it does these young girls good to know that -there is a region of thought above and beyond their daily track, and -if they should ever have time, they may enjoy exploring it. Besides, -the habit of looking upon life in a large way comes through philosophy -Christianized. The right use of our faculties in a reverent search for -truth is certainly worth much thought and painstaking from man or woman. - -To live a child-like, religious life in all things is what I would do; -simply receiving light and life from the love revealed within, and so, -as a child, claiming the inheritance of the world without, which was -created by the same Love for loving souls; but the earthly cleaves to -me; I lose simplicity of soul in the world’s windings. - -Yet I own but one Life, one Lord and Redeemer; in Him only shall I find -for myself the simplicity of the child and the wisdom of the Seraph. In -Him all things are mine. Beautiful ideals may deceive one. Because we -see and can talk about noble things, does it follow that we can live -them? I fear not always. - -March 5. My birthday,--and I am as much gratified as any child to -find fragrant and beautiful flowers in my room, placed there by loving -hands. And, what was very beautiful to me, the trim-berry vine which -I have kept in a dish of moss all winter, this morning put forth one -hesitating, snow white blossom, another followed before noon, and -to-night there are four, as delicate in perfume as in color; it is -so sweet, that the woods give me this pretty memento of their love -to-day; it is a promise of spring, too; of the multitudes of just such -white blossoms that are waiting patiently under the snow-banks to give -themselves away in beauty and fragrance by and by.--To-night, for the -first time, I met some of our scholars to talk with them of deep and -sacred truths. I hardly know how I did it; it seemed hard at first, and -yet it _was_ easy, for the words seemed to be spoken through me. I will -try not to shrink from it again. And I will endeavor to keep it before -myself and others, that Christianity is simply a receiving and living -out the life of Christ; not a thing of theories and emotions, but a -_life_. - -I will say it to these pages, because I feel it so bitterly sometimes, -and cannot speak it out here without offense, that there is too much of -the “tearing open of the rosebud” in talking with those who are seeking -the truth. Some are thought to be indifferent or untrue, because they -will not speak of their deepest feelings to anybody who asks them. It -is a shameful mistake; it must accompany a low standard of delicacy, to -say the least. Let me not call that pride or obstinacy, which is the -heart’s natural reserve! The deeper depths of the soul are sacred to -one Eye alone, and so much as a shrinking soul may reveal to a friend, -it will. I would discourage too free a conversation about one’s own -feelings; it is dissipating, except where a burdened soul _must_ pour -out itself to another for sympathy. Why cannot we leave our friends to -find God in the silence of the soul, since there is His abode? - -March 11. We have had victories by sea and land. To-night the news -comes that Manassas is occupied by our troops. The “Merrimac” has -made a dash from Norfolk, and destroyed two of our war vessels; but -the little iron-clad “Monitor” appeared and drove her back. The coast -of Florida is forsaken by the rebels, and our troops are taking -possession. Everything is working for us now; and it seems as if the -rebellion must soon be strangled. Sometimes it seems to me as if these -events were happening in a foreign country, they touch me and mine so -little in a way that we immediately feel. - -This has been a day of “clearing up,” and domestic reforms are never -poetical. Taking down pictures and books, and finding one’s self -reminded of neglected favorites by heaps of dust, lost mementos coming -up from forgotten corners,--after all, there is some sentiment in -it; and, in the midst of it, three letters, two of them touching my -heart-strings right powerfully. - -I have learned to live with a trusting heart and a willing hand from -day to day, and I have not a wish for more, except that I might be -able to help others as I am not now able. If it is rest that is before -me, I dare not take it until I am more weary than now;--a _home_ would -withdraw me from the opportunity of educating my nieces, perhaps. No! -there can be nothing but single-handed work for others before me; -anything else would be but a temptation, and perhaps one that I should -not be able to bear. I would be kept safe from everything but a plain -opening to the life of self-sacrifice in the footsteps of our one true -Guide! I will trust Him for all, and be at rest from the dread of too -much sunshine, as well as from fear of storms. He knows what I need. - -There is heart-heaviness for souls astray, such as I have seldom felt, -weighing me down even now. There is one poor girl, half ruined, and -not knowing how to escape destruction, for whom there seems no outlet -but into the very jaws of death. None but a Divine Power can help her; -yet He may do it by making human helpers appear for her. How fearful -a thing it is to be placed where there are brands to be plucked from -burning. - -And this is not the only one I know, for whom all human efforts _seem_ -unavailing. Near and far away are those to whom my heart reaches out -with nameless fears, and hope unquenched and unquenchable, till the -lamp of life shall go out. God save us all from shipwreck of soul! for -these drifting lives but show us the possibilities of our own. - -With poor little Prince Arthur, I can sometimes say heartily, “Would I -were out of prison, and kept sheep.” - -One long summer all out of doors, what new life it would give me! Yet I -would not have this winter’s memory left out of my life for much. Some -new openings into true life, here and beyond, come with every season. - -March 16. I have been trying to hold some plain converse with myself, -and I am more and more convinced that sincerity is not the thorough -spirit of my life, as I would have it. It is so easy to take one’s -fine theories, and the frequent expression of them, in the place of -the realities they stand for. I really fear that I have been trying to -impose these fine theories upon Him who knows my heart, in the place -of true love. I believe in self-forgetfulness, in constant thought for -others, in humility, in following the light of the unseen Presence -within the soul, but I do not live out these ideas, except in languid -and faltering efforts. - -Now in this way, is not my life going to be a false one, false to man -and God? Discouraging indeed it is, to think much of self; and it is -well that we need not do it. There is life, there is truth to be had -for the asking. Only the Christ-life within can make me true before -heaven and earth and my own heart. Yet even here I feel myself so apt -to dwell upon the beautiful theory of a present Redeemer as to forget -that in the trifles of a daily intercourse with human beings, this life -is to be manifested, if at all. Thoroughly unselfish--shall I ever be -that? - -I was glad to talk with my Bible scholars about the resurrection -to-day. It has come to be the most real of all revealed truths to me. - -Our Lord is risen, and we have a Redeemer to stand by our souls in the -struggles of this human life. He is risen, and we shall arise from the -dead, and go home to Him, “and so be forever with the Lord.” He is -risen, and all His and our beloved are risen with Him; they are “alive -from the dead forevermore.” He is risen, and we rise with Him from the -death of sin, into the new life of holiness which he has brought into -the world. He said, “Because I live, ye shall live also.” - -Beverly, April 5. Two, almost three, weeks of the vacation are gone. -It is Saturday night, and after a week of fine spring weather, there -is another driving snowstorm, which makes us all anxious, as our good -brother Isaac has just sailed from Boston; but perhaps he is at anchor -in the Roads; they would not start with the signs of a north-east storm -at hand. Bound for Sumatra, to be gone a year, perhaps two. How we -shall all miss him! He is one of the really kind-hearted, genial men, -who know how to make home and friends happy, just by being what they -are; no effort, no show about it, genuine goodness of heart making -itself always felt. - -I have had a week of visiting, also. Curious contrasts one finds, -in passing from family to family; each has its own peculiar essence -or flavor, its home element, or lack of the same; sometimes its -painful peculiarity, which it seems almost dishonorable for a guest to -notice, or ever even to think of, afterwards. One thing is plain,--the -worldly-prosperous learn with most difficulty the secret of home-rest; -whoever loves show has not the true home-love in him. - -Those are the happiest family circles which are bound together by -intangible, spiritual ties, in the midst of care, poverty, and hard -work, it may be. Whether rich or poor, a home is not a home unless -the roots of love are ever striking deeper through the crust of the -earthly and the conventional, into the very realities of being,--not -consciously always; seldom, perhaps; the simplicity of loving grows by -living simply near nature and God. - -And I have looked into some pleasant homes during this brief visit. -Homes where little children are, are always beautiful to me, for the -children’s sake, if for nothing more. Cherub-like or impish, the little -folks fascinate me always. If I were a mother, I am afraid I should -never want my baby to grow up; and who knows whether the babies that -die do not keep the charm of infancy upon them forever? So many little -children I have loved have gone home with tiny life-torches just -filling some small domestic world with light, a light that could not go -out, and which perhaps heaven needs to make it perfect heaven. - -But the best visit of all is always to Amesbury, to the friendly poet, -and my loving Lizzie, his sister; dearer and dearer she seems to me, -now so alone, without her mother. Since Esther went away, my longing -love goes after this friend, my own Elizabeth, as if, when Heaven -opened to receive one friend, a golden cord were flung down to us two, -to bring us nearer each other and nearer the beloved ones up there. -But theirs is a home in each other’s love which makes earth a place -to cling to for its beauty yet. If I could not think of them together -there, of the quiet light which bathes everything within and around -their cottage under the shadow of the hill, of the care repaid by -gentle trust, of the dependence so blessed in its shelter of tenderness -and strength, the world would seem to me a much drearier place; for I -have never seen anything like this brother’s and sister’s love, and the -home-atmosphere it creates, the trust in human goodness and the Divine -Love it diffuses into all who enter the charmed circle. - -I love to sit with my friends in the still Quaker worship; there is -something very soothing in the silence of the place to me, and in -glancing upon the faces around me, where “the dove of peace sits -brooding.” Then and there, I have often felt the union of all hearts in -the truth, where there is no thought of opinion, or sect, or creed, but -the one wide communion of trust in one Father and Redeemer which is His -church; the gathering of all souls in Him. - -April 17. I feel better prepared to write than I ever have, and I feel -a greater desire to say what I am able to say, if I may. I do not know -what my greatest use in life is yet, whether I can do more by teaching -or by writing; I wait to be shown and to be guided, and I believe I -shall be. - -April 22.... The best preparation for death is to be alive as fully as -one is capable of being; for the transition is not from life to death, -but from life to life; _more_ life always. And the time when we are to -be called hence need not trouble us, or the way: it is in the heart of -the Father to do the best thing for us forever. - -May 4. I have been to Esther’s grave, and found Spring there, a glimpse -of the immortal sunshine and blossoming in which she lives. I have -found love growing for me in her home, in one young, glad heart; and -in one life-worn and sorrow-worn. I have felt _her_ spirit living and -breathing yet in her earthly home; from her flowers, her books, her -domestic life, in all the atmosphere of the places haunted by her -footsteps,--the home where she lived and loved and suffered, the lovely -resting-place of her dust by the river side. Of such lives as hers new -life is born, and I have brought back with me a deeper reality to live -in, heaven bends nearer over me, earth is lifted up to heaven. I only -needed to breathe in another, freer atmosphere than this; and the dear -Lord sent me just where it was best for me to go. Scarcely could I have -found anything so good for my soul’s health, this side of the “fields -beyond the swelling flood,” where Esther, my heart’s sister, walks with -the Angels in the bloom of immortal health and loveliness. - -It is strange, but I seem to know her more _humanly_ now than when -she was here. I saw her but once or twice; she was to me as a spirit, -a voice in the wilderness, to guide and to cheer. Now I feel how she -wore the same robes of flesh, wearily and painfully, yet cheering and -blessing household and friends by her patient, tender love. I never -thought before how beautiful it would be to visit the Holy Land--to -tread in the Lord’s footsteps. I had thought that the spirit-love might -be dimmed by traces of the earthly; but it is not so; I have tracked -the footsteps of this loving pilgrim through the Gethsemane and Olivet -of her Holy Land of home, and I know her and hers more truly; I am -hers, and she is mine more surely now forever. - -May 10. Heaven is a _place_, a home, a rest: but it is a Spiritual -habitation, Truth and Love and Peace are the pillars that support it; -and it is the truthful, the loving, and the holy only who may enter -in. How then, O beloved Guide, may such as I? Because Thou hast drawn -me by love to Love,--hast given an “earnest” of that life even here, -imparting new sympathies, hopes, and aspirations, infusing Thine own -life into mine, and Thou wilt never forsake Thine own work, Thine own -home! Yet so imperfectly I hear and follow Thee, so slow, so cold, -so hard my nature yet,--when the summons comes, will it not find me -lagging on the heavenly road, hardly at home within the beautiful -gates? So many die with noble purposes half-grown into achievement, so -many live but half in the light, and yet the Light is in them,--how -will it be with them, and with me; how shall the stains of the mortal -be put off? Death has no cleansing power, and defilement may not enter -heaven. There is a mystery here which is too painful; yet we know -not what that other life is, nor how hereafter, more than here, the -Shepherd leads His own. - -Always it is by paths they have not known; and what new and wonderful -ministries may be prepared for us there, who have sought Him through -all our faltering and waywardness here, He knows; and it is good to -trust Him always, and for all things. - -Sabbath, May 11. Esther’s letters are a constant comfort to me; they -say more to me now, about some things, than they did while she was -alive. I love to keep them near me--in sight. Does she know how happy -she makes me every day I live, how rich I am in the inheritance of love -she has left me? Ah! how little can I tell what she is doing for me -now! But the “idea of her life” seems growing into all my thoughts. I -could not have known her as I do if she had not gone away, to return in -spirit; and I can see her, too, moulding the lives of others she loved -most dearly. There is more of heaven in this Spring’s sunshine than I -have seen for years. - -I owe my acquaintance with Robertson to her; a gift she sent me out -of deepest pain, when she was passing through the fires, and none but -Jesus knew. I use his thoughts on the epistle to the Corinthians with -my class these Sunday mornings; that is, I read the Apostle’s words, -then Robertson’s, then the Apostle’s again, and afterward talk with the -scholars from the things which I have, in both ways, received. And by -the kindling eyes and earnest looks of all, especially of some whose -natures have seemed indolent and unspiritual, I feel assured that the -living thought is sometimes found and received mutually. A soul must -drink the truth, bathe in it, glow with its life, in order to impart -it to another soul; and it is to me a source of gratitude which I can -never exhaust, that such as Robertson and my Esther “have lived and -died.” - -May 13. Yesterday morning the news came of the surrender of Norfolk, -and, in a sudden burst of patriotism, the school went out and marched -round the Liberty pole, under the Stars and Stripes, singing “Hail -Columbia,” and cheering most heartily. - -The defeat of the rebels--happily bloodless--was attended with the -usual amount of vandalism, burning of buildings, ships, etc. The stolen -ship “Merrimac,” transformed into an iron-fanged rebel war steamer, was -blown up; we are all glad her race is run. And the vandalism of the -rebels is but another proof to the world of the worth of their cause, -the desperate situation in which they find themselves, and on which -side of the contest barbarism lingers. All hearts are lighter now. -The doom of this demoniac rebellion is sealed. There is no longer any -slavery in the District of Columbia, and doubtless the whole infamous -“system” shall be drowned out in the blood of this war. If not, it will -seem to have been shed in vain. - -May 21. C---- has gone into the army; but first he has “joined the army -of the Lord,” as he expresses it in his letter to his mother. If ever -mortals could hear the angels rejoicing “over one that repenteth,” I -should think I had heard them to-day, while I read this news. So much -anxiety lest here should be a shipwrecked soul, so many have been -pained about him, and burdened for him,--so little faith or hope some -of us had, as to the possibility of his rising out of his old self into -a better life,--all these memories come back, and make it seem like a -miracle; and indeed it is the greatest of all miracles. - -And when he writes, “Aunt Lucy may feel as if her prayers were being -answered,” it seems to me as if I had nothing but unbelief to remember. -It is the mighty hand of God, if he is saved! He goes into temptation, -but he goes hopeful, and longing to prove himself a “good soldier of -the Cross.” And now he needs to be followed with faith and prayer more -than ever. It seems to me as if this were realizing for the first time, -what “conversion” means; that it is a reality, and not a term which -custom has made mere cant. He speaks of himself in a free, simple way, -as _I_ never could have spoken; and yet it _is_ genuine. Oh, if it -might unloose more hearts and tongues! - -May 23. ... I am so glad to be _needed_, as I seem to be now, by -several of my friends: my thoughts, my care, my suggestions seem of -some value. It is a woman’s want, and I feel a woman’s gratification -in being allowed to think a little for others. For a great school like -this, I never feel that I can do much; I want to know just the especial -need of somebody that I can help. - -So human nature goes: absorbed by petty miseries quite as much as by -grand and beautiful ideas; who would think, sometimes, that such as we -could be immortal beings? - -I have felt myself growing very skeptical for a little while, of late. -A cold thrill creeps insidiously through me when I go among people; -there is so little apparent reality in human lives, loves, friendships. -“All seek their own;” and when there is a gleam of unselfishness, it -is but a passing gleam. And, worst of all, when I am with those whose -lives are pitched in a low key, I find myself taking it for granted -that it is life. - -June 7. Two trials came to me this week, trials to patience which I -seldom have, yet both very trifling. One came from a selfish woman, who -_would_ misunderstand me, and imagine that I was troubling her, when I -was trying to do just the opposite; this I must bear in silence, for it -is a case when doing and letting alone are accounted alike grievous. -Another was from the whims of school-girls, which they would persevere -in, though to their own serious discomfort. How to meet such things -with simple meekness, and not with a desire to let people suffer the -consequences of their own mistakes, is something, which, old as I am, -I have not yet learned. The constant frets of this kind that some have -to bear, I have been saved from; people are generally too generous -and thoughtful of me. How miserable some families must be! and what a -wretched life it must be, just to be left to the indulgence of one’s -own foolish and selfish whims! - -June 11. This week I wrote letters which decide my going to -Connecticut, to Esther’s mother, next year. It is strange that it -seemed so hard for me to decide upon so pleasant a thing; but somehow -it is as if this were altogether a different thing from my usual plans; -as if there were hidden links in spiritual chains influencing my -decision, and to result from it. I do not know whether I have decided -right, but I believe some good will come out of it, in some way. If I -can make a desolate home a little happier, it will be worth going for; -but that is just the thing I fear I shall not do. - -June 22. ... I was most wretchedly tried, to-day, by a bungler in -dentistry, and then worried and vexed by two hours’ hurried and -dissatisfied shopping. - -... I know that I am loved and valued here, and yet I want to go away. -I do not think of any place where I long to go, but only somewhere into -a different life: into more trials I am sure it will be, when I do go, -but that does not frighten me. I am growing callous with the constant -repetition of the same blessings. I need to suffer, to be shaken -sorely through all my life, then perhaps I shall learn not to be so -ungrateful or indifferent to anything God sends. - -July 9. If Atlas had undertaken to keep a journal of his state of mind, -while holding the world on his shoulders, he might have been successful -and he might not; and it might or might not have been worth while. I -don’t want to “keep a journal” exactly, but I want to try the effect of -writing every day, as much to keep up the habit as anything else. But -how to catch the moments from between the busy hours? I am to be here -another anniversary,--no help for it, though greatly against my wishes: -the work that comes with it does not seem to me very profitable to -anybody in particular, and the hardest of it comes upon me. I dislike -shows and preparation for shows; but there is no escaping. There is an -interest in helping the girls do their parts well, only they and I both -fear I help them too much sometimes. - -... At night a most kind letter from my editor friend with a most -liberal enclosure for services rendered. The nobleness and genial -spirit of the man is more to me even than his liberality. It is a -comfort to write for those who receive in the spirit of one’s giving. - -And to-day a letter from a young nephew, confiding to me his longings -for a better life, and asking for suggestions and advice. This is a -joy that brought tears to my eyes; not that I can do much for him, -except by helping him to keep those aspirations alive; by sympathy -and by living such a life as he seeks. It is like a miracle, in these -days, when a young man like him really is interested in such things! -An upright, moral one too, with few bad habits, and the promise of a -successful worldly career. - -Beverly, last of July. The war moves on, but slowly. The “rallying” -meetings to raise the President three hundred thousand men seem like -an attempt at galvanizing patriotism into life. Blindness is come -upon the people in some way, for some reason: it is not as in the old -Revolutionary days; and yet this cause is greater. But we will not dare -to say that we are fighting for anything but the Government. We leave -God out, and all becomes confused. - -July 29. Another death; C----, the stray lamb so long, has been called -into the upper fold. His was a wonderful change, as marked as St. -Paul’s, almost, and his last letter from the camp was one that will be -a lifelong comfort to his friends, so full of faith in God, submission -to His will, an entire readiness to die, and yet a wish to live that -the past might be redeemed. He died on the 25th of June, while his -division of the army was passing from Corinth to Memphis, after having -suffered much from fever, and other complaints incident to a weakened -constitution in a new climate, and among the hardships of war. He had -his wish; his long desire to be a soldier was gratified; once he was -under fire; the air full of bullets around him, and one striking within -two feet of his head. But he was not to die in battle; disease, that -he dreaded more, laid him low; he longed for civilization, was weary -of the great Southern forests; but there he was to lay his weary head -for his last sleep. And now his mother is all alone in the world, and -almost broken-hearted. One after another, husband and four children -have gone, and she is a widow and childless. - -But to think of the thousands of homes that this war has desolated, the -thousands of hearts well-nigh broken! Is it not enough? - -No, for the purification of the nation has not yet been wrought out; -the scourge is needed yet; the gulf yet yawns for that which is dearest -in all the land, and the war will not cease until it is closed. Not to -a proud, self-confident people will the victory be given, but to the -humble, the trustful, the nation that stays itself upon God, and lives -only for the highest principles, and the highest love. - -August 10. This week has been a more remarkable one than any in my -life, I believe, in the way of seeing people I have heard of, and -had some little curiosity about. Last Thursday was spent at Andover, -and one of the golden days it was. The day itself was one of shine -and shadow just rightly blended; and the place, the well-known Hill -of the students, was in its glory. After sitting awhile in church, -where the learned Professors, Park, Phelps, and Stowe, sat in state (I -wonder if Professors dread anniversaries and conspicuous positions -as we boarding-school teachers do!) we went up the hill to accept an -invitation to lunch with Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe. It was beautiful -as a page from one of her own story books. - -Mrs. Stowe herself I liked, and her house and garden were just such as -an authoress like her ought to have. It all had what I imagine to be -an English look, the old stone house, with its wild vines and trees -brought into shape in picturesque walks, and its cool refreshment-room -looking off over the river, the city, and the far hills, to the -mountains; the arrangement of the table, too, showing so much of the -poetess. I could not have called upon Mrs. Stowe formally; as it was, -nothing could have been much pleasanter, of that kind. - -Then before I left I called upon some old friends; a call which -finished the day very delightfully; for there, besides the cordiality -of really well-bred people, I saw one of the sweetest specimens of -girlhood that can be shown in New England, I fancy. Beauty does not -often fascinate me, in its common acceptation; but where there is -soul in a young, sweet face--modesty and intelligence that greet you -like the fragrance of a rosebud before it is well opened--it is so -rare a thing in these “Young America” days that it makes me a little -extravagant in admiration, perhaps. - -Saturday I spent at Amesbury; it was not quite like other visits, for -two other visitors were there; yet I enjoyed one of them especially; -an educated mulatto girl, refined, lady-like in every respect, and a -standing reply to those who talk of the “inferiority of the colored -race.” It is seldom that I see any one who attracts me so much, whose -acquaintance I so much desire, just from first sight. She would like to -teach at Port Royal, but the _government_ will not permit. Ah, well! -my book ends with no prospect of the war’s end. Three hundred thousand -recruits have just been raised, and as many more are to be drafted. - -Many talk as if there never was a darker time than now. We have no -unity of purpose; the watchword is “Fight for the Government!” but that -is an abstraction the many cannot comprehend. If they would say, “Fight -for Liberty--your own liberty, and that of every American,” there would -be an impetus given to the contest that, on our side, “drags its slow -length along.” This is an extreme opinion, our law-abiding people say, -but I believe we shall come to worse extremes before the war ends. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -LETTERS AND WORK. - -1861-1868. - - -The regular routine of school-life was varied for Miss Larcom by -charming invitations to Boston where she met many literary friends, -and by her pleasant summer vacations, which she always spent among the -mountains. The two following letters, one to Mr. James T. Fields and -one to Mr. Whittier, are interesting:-- - - - NORTON, April 4, 1861. - -DEAR MR. FIELDS,--My thoughts ran into a kind of rhapsody, all to -themselves, after that evening of pleasant surprises at your house. I -did not know it was fairy-land at 37 Charles Street, nor did I dream -of meeting so many of the Genii,--if I had foredreamed or foreknown, I -suppose I should have thought it even more of an impossibility for me -to go than I did. - -I wasn’t going to be so foolish as to send you this rhapsody, but I -have just got back to my own room after the wanderings of vacation, and -have hung up my ruined arch. It is Dolabella’s, on the Coelian Hill, -and it brings back so many pleasant reminiscences of those few hours -among the treasures of your home-grotto that I am just in the mood for -inflicting this out-of-date expression of my enjoyment upon Mrs. Fields -and you. I don’t pretend that it is poetry, and if you are ashamed of -me, for running on so, please remember that you shouldn’t have shown me -so many curious and beautiful things;--I am not used to them. - -I have heard that Miss Cushman is to play next week. Is it true? If it -is, and if you know before-hand what evenings she will appear as Lady -Macbeth or Meg Merrilies, will you be so kind as to tell Mr. Robinson, -who will let me know, and who has promised to accompany me to the -theatre? I have always wanted to see her in some of her great _rôles_, -and now more than ever, since I have seen her as a noble woman. - -What a wonderful statue that “Lotus Eater” is! I was never so “carried -away” with anything in marble! - -With remembrances to Mrs. Fields, - - Gratefully yours, - - LUCY LARCOM. - - -This poem was enclosed in the above letter:-- - - Was it a dream - Or waking vision of the gracious night? - Did I on that enchanted isle alight, - Aye blossoming in Shakespeare’s line, - With forms and melodies divine,-- - Where all things seem - Ancient yet ever new beneath the hand - Of Prospero and his aërial band? - At every turn a change - To something rich and strange,-- - Embodied shapes of poets’ fantasies: - Glimpses of ruins old - Slow fading from the blue Italian skies; - And runes of wizards bold; - Or beautiful or quaint - Memorials of bard, and sage, and saint, - In many an antique tome. - - There was some necromancy in the place: - The air was full of voices wondrous sweet; - Crowned shadows of past ages came to greet - Their living peers, who lately lent new grace - To genius-haunted Rome; - And when the lady of the grotto spoke, - ’Twas like Miranda, when at first she woke - To Love, lighting the wild sea with her smile - Star of her beautiful and haunted isle; - And the magician, who - Such harmony and beauty round him drew,-- - He was her Ariel and Ferdinand - Blended in one, - And heir to Prosper’s wonder-working wand. - He charmed the sprites of power - For one familiar hour, - And Story-land and Dream-land deftly won - To his home-nook the moonlit stream beside: - Hushed and apart - Though in the city’s heart, - There dwell they long, the poet and his bride! - - -TO J. G. WHITTIER. - - NORTON, Mass., September 8, 1861. - -Why is it that I always miss thy visits? Why of all things should I -have lost sight of thee at the mountains? and when I was so near thee -too! I cannot think why so pleasant a thing should be withheld from -me, unless because I enjoy it too much. I have no other such friends as -thee and Elizabeth, and when anything like this happens it is a great -disappointment. But I said all the time that seeing the hills with you -could only be a beautiful dream. - -I felt the beauty of those mountains around the Lake, as I floated -among them, but I wished for thee all the while; because I have always -associated thee with my first glimpse of them, and somehow it seems -as if they belonged to thee or thee to them, or both. They would not -speak to me much; I needed an interpreter: and when they grew so dim -and spectral in the noon haze, they gave me a strange almost shuddering -feeling of distance and loneliness. - -But I am glad thee saw the Notch Mountains, and those grand blue hills -up the river that I used to watch through all their changes. I am glad -Miss B---- saw thee, for she was as much disappointed as I when we gave -up the hope of your coming. I felt almost certain you would both come; -I wanted Lizzie to know the mountains. - -Is it right to dream and plan for another year? How I should like to go -to Franconia with thee and Elizabeth to see those great gates of the -Notch open gradually wider and wider, and then to pass through to a -vision of the vast range beyond! It is but a vague memory to me; I long -to take that journey again. - -But everything has wearied me this summer, and I feel almost like -dropping my dreams and never expecting anything more. It is doubtless -wiser to take what a kind Providence sends, just as it comes: yet who -is always wise? Twice I rested in the sight of your beautiful river -and on that cottage doorstep at Campton, looking off to the mountains. -But the sea tired me with its restlessness. I wanted to tell it to be -still. And I was very willing to get back from it to the quiet of my -room, to the shelter of these friendly elms, and to the steady cheerful -music of crickets and grasshoppers. - -I shall be very happy to try to write a hymn for the Horticultural -Association, as you request; and will send you something as soon as I -can.... - - -In the autumn of 1862, Miss Larcom decided to give up teaching at -Wheaton Seminary. Ill health for some time had made her complain of a -constant sense of weariness in her head. Living in the crowded school -when she longed for quiet, and preparing her work for extra classes, -she became nervously exhausted; so that when an invitation came from -Esther’s mother, requesting her to spend the winter in Waterbury, -Connecticut, she readily accepted it. She longed to be in the peaceful -home made sacred by the presence of her beloved friend, where she felt -that by occupying Esther’s room, sitting at her writing-desk, and using -her very bed, she would enter into her spirit, and help to fill the -vacant place in a mother’s heart. At first there was something hallowed -in the home of one so pure,--she “felt it was holy ground,” and was -“half afraid to live my common life here;” but the close association -with sad memories was depressing, and the solitude, while it gave her -rest, did not refresh her. After having formed a lifelong friendship -with Franklin Carter, a half-brother of Esther and afterwards President -of Williams College, she returned, first to Norton for a little -while,--then to Beverly, where she secured time for her writing, which -was now constantly absorbing her attention. - -Her poems, written chiefly for weekly papers--since they were either -on homely fireside topics or incidents of the war, or else were -religious meditations--were widely copied, and found their way into -the scrap-books of thoughtful households all over the land. Referring -to the winter of 1863, she said, “I have written for the newspapers -this winter. My ideas of the ‘Atlantic’ are too high for me often to -offer it anything my thoughts let slip. My standard is so far beyond -my performances, that I am very glad to let them glide away unnoticed, -and unnamed, on the path of the weekly tide wave of print.” Though -Mr. Fields was equal to the task of polite editorial refusal, he -gladdened her heart by occasionally accepting a poem. It was through -his literary judgment that “Hilary,” that tender lyric of sea-sorrow, -with its wistfulness and pathos, first saw the light; and the indignant -strains of “A Loyal Woman’s No” were first heard from the pages of the -“Atlantic.” These successes opened the way for poems of greater merit, -like the “Rose Enthroned.” - -Her interest in the war was intense. She followed eagerly the progress -of the campaigns, and rejoiced in every victory, often writing verses -to celebrate the events, as in the case of the sinking Merrimac:-- - - “Gone down in the flood, and gone out in the flame! - What else could she do, with her fair Northern name?” - -Her satire was ready for those able-bodied men who, when the drafting -was talked of, were suddenly seized with many varieties of disease, -or those who went a-fishing for the season--because mariners were -exempt--or, like one man, who cut off three fingers, hoping that the -loss of these members would be sufficient to keep him at home. She -wanted to do something herself: “I am almost ashamed of these high -sentiments in print, because I really have done nothing for our dear -country as yet. These things sound conceited and arrogant to me, -under the circumstances, but I only write from an ideal of patriotic -womanhood, and for my country-women.” She came near offering herself -as a teacher for the “Contrabands,” but some of her friends thought -it unwise in the state of her health at the time, and she concluded -that she was not fitted for the work, with the rather sad confession, -“I have an unconquerable distrust of my own fitness for these angel -ministries; I fear I am not worthy to suffer. I can think, write, and -teach, but can I live?” - -In August, 1863, she was called to the West by the serious illness of -her sister Louisa, which terminated fatally. - - -TO MRS. JAMES T. FIELDS. - - HAMMOND, WIS., September 11, 1863. - -... and with her, my pleasant dreams of home dissolve; it was she who -said she would make a home for me, wherever I would choose. The earthly -outlook is lonelier than before; but I must not yield to selfish -regrets. She has gone home, in a sense more real than we often say -of the dead. Her whole family had gone before her,--husband and four -children had left her one after another. Her heart seemed broken when -her youngest son died in the army, last year; she never recovered her -strength after that blow. I cannot mourn when I think of that glad -reunion of a household in heaven, but I cannot help the great blank -that her death and my brother’s have left in my life. These family -ties, I find, grow stronger as I grow older. - -This prairie life does not now attract me at all. A broad, grand world -opens out on every side, but there is no choice in it. You might as -well take one level road as another.... - - -With the death of this sister, in reality, did dissolve the “pleasant -dreams of a home,” for Miss Larcom never had a home of her own, though -she longed for one, and used to delight in speaking of the possibility -of having one. “I will build my long-planned home among the -mountains,” she used to say, “and my friends shall bivouac with me all -summer.” But her life was spent principally in boarding-houses, or in -the homes of others. Her resources never permitted her to own the bed -on which she slept; however, she did own an old wooden lounge, which -was her only bed for years. But she made the best of it, in her usual -way; “I like this old couch. I like to be independent of things; there -is a charm in Bohemian life.” - -On her return to Beverly in 1864, she took a few pupils again, and -spent a good deal of time in painting,--even weeds, for she “loved the -very driest old stick that had a bit of lichen or moss on it.” She -exhausted her friend’s libraries in reading, and received from Mrs. -Fields a large valise filled with precious volumes, which she returned -only after having read them all. “I like to be here in Beverly with my -sister and the children. I think I am more human here than at school.” - -The following records were made with feeling in her diary. - - -April 10, 1865. Waked at five o’clock this morning, to hear bells -ringing for the surrender of Lee’s army; robins screaming, and guns -booming from the fort. The war’s “Finis;” Glory Hallelujah! - -April 15. Starting for Boston, the bells began to toll. The President’s -assassination is the report. The morning papers confirm the truth. -Sadness and indignation everywhere. The Rebellion has struck its most -desperate blow, but the Nation moves calmly on. - -April 19. The President’s funeral. Every place of business closed. -Services in all the churches. I went to the Old South, and heard -a brief and indignant speech, which received the people’s earnest -response. - -May 14, Sunday. Bells ringing for the capture of Jeff Davis. - - -In 1865, Miss Larcom became one of the editors of the new magazine -for young people, “Our Young Folks,” and retained this position until -1872, when “St. Nicholas” inherited the good-will and patronage of the -earlier magazine. The orange-colored periodical bore her name, and -those of Gail Hamilton and Trowbridge, and usually contained a ballad -or prose sketch by her, or else she contributed some of the answers in -the “Letter Box.” Her work was performed with conscientiousness and -good taste; her sympathy with child-life made her a valuable assistant -in making the magazine popular. She was interested in its success: -“‘Our Young Folks’ greatly delights grown people everywhere. I am very -glad of an occasional criticism that offers a hint of an improvement. -It must be made to distance all competitors in value, as it does in -patronage.” - -To be in a position where she had the power to reject or accept -hundreds of manuscripts sent for approval, interested her, but she had -so much sympathy for the struggling author, that, contrary to the -usual custom of the “Editorial Department,” she often sent a personal -note of explanation. She could not help laughing over the strange -letters she received, though she usually answered them politely. One -woman wrote, asking her advice as to the sale of three hundred barrels -of apples. Musicians sent her music, requesting her to write words to -suit. A young girl wrote that she was “young, poor, and orphaned,” thus -appealing to the editorial sympathies, and requested her to arbitrate -concerning the merit of two poems, “The Angel Whisper” and “One of the -Chosen,” for some one had promised to give her five dollars and a new -hat, if her own poem should be successful. Modesty was not always a -virtue with these applicants. One wrote: “Editors, Sir and Madam,--I -send you a palindrome, which you know is a curiosity. I saw a list, the -other day, said to be the best in the language, but this excels them -all, as it represents a complete idea of spiritual philosophy. I should -like to open a school of ideas for children. I believe this would add -to your subscription list.” Another announced the strange theory, that -“languages were originated with references to correspondence between -the visible and invisible world.” Another facetiously remarked, making -application for a position, “Anything but to count money, for I have -not had experience in this form of labor.” - -Miss Larcom published, in 1866, the valuable collection of extracts -from religious writings,--“Breathings of the Better Life.” It was -received with warm welcome, and reprinted in England, without, -however, being accredited to the author. It contained the passages -she had discovered in her reading of many books, to which she wanted -to give a wider circulation among those who might not possess the -volumes. This little book represents the development of her religious -thought along deeply spiritual lines. Her favorite authors are -represented,--Robertson, Bushnell, Tholuck, and now and then a little -poem by George Herbert, Madame Guyon, or Mrs. Browning is given. The -subjects treated are characteristic of her thought: “The Kingdom within -the Soul,” “The Way of Access,” “Life Eternal,” “Shadows cast over -Other Lives,” “The Bearing of the Cross,” “The Fullness of Life,” “The -Illuminated Gateway,” and “The Glory Beyond.” - - -TO MR. J. T. FIELDS. - - BEVERLY, MASS., May 20, 1866. - -MY DEAR MR. FIELDS,--Before you escape for the summer, I want to bother -you with a word or two about the “Breathings.” I find that people are -imagining I have been very industrious this winter, by the way they -talk about my new book, which they suppose is something original. I -don’t want to give wrong impressions in that way, as the selections are -more valuable on their own account than on mine. - -When it is time to announce it, can it not be described as “a -compilation of brief extracts in prose and verse, from favorite -religious writers,” or something to that effect. And must my name -appear in full? The commonplace “Miss Larcom” I should like better than -my usual staring alliteration; as less obtrusive, “L. L.” is better -still. - -And please let the book be as inexpensive as possible, because it is -my “little preach,” and I want a large congregation of poor folks like -myself. My object in preparing it will be defeated, if they cannot have -it. - -I don’t calculate upon a “paper fractional” from it for myself, so you -can leave that entirely out of consideration. It has been altogether a -labor of love with me. I wanted the good people to know who their best -instructors are. Robertson above all, who is the true apostle of this -age, within the Church. - - Yours sincerely, - LUCY LARCOM. - - -TO MRS. J. T. FIELDS. - - BEVERLY, MASS., May 26, 1866. - -DEAR ANNIE,--If I could only make you feel the difference in myself -coming home through the apple-blooms last night, and going to Boston -Wednesday morning, I think you would know that you had not lived -in vain, for a few of the beautiful May-day hours. I bring such -refreshment from you always! I wonder if you do not feel that something -is gone out from you, or are you like the flowers, that find an -infinite sweetness in their hearts, replacing constantly what they -give away? So much I must say in love and gratitude, and you must -pardon it, because it is sincere. - -I have copied the rhyme note for you. If I did not feel so very -“stingy” (it’s the word!) about our Mr. Whittier’s letters, I should -give you the original, for I think it belongs to you almost as much as -to me. But possession is nine tenths of the law, you know, and I am a -real miser about the letters of a friend,--ashamed as I am to own it to -one so generous to me as you are.... - - -The “rhyme note” mentioned was a delightful doggerel from Mr. Whittier. - - AMESBURY, March 25, 1866. - - Believe me, Lucy Larcom, it gives me real sorrow - That I cannot take my carpet-bag, and go to town to-morrow; - But I’m “Snow-bound,” and cold on cold, like layers of an onion, - Have piled my back, and weighed me down, as with the pack of Bunyan. - - The north-east wind is damper, and the north-west wind is colder, - Or else the matter simply is that I am growing older; - And then, I dare not trust a moon seen over one’s left shoulder - As I saw this, with slender horn caught in a west hill-pine, - As on a Stamboul minaret curves the Arch Impostor’s sign. - - So I must stay in Amesbury, and let you go your way, - And guess what colors greet your eyes, what shapes your steps delay, - What pictured forms of heathen love, of god and goddess please you, - What idol graven images you bend your wicked knees to. - - But why should I of evil dream, well knowing at your head goes - That flower of Christian womanhood, our dear good Anna Meadows! - She’ll be discreet, I’m sure, although, once, in a fit romantic, - She flung the Doge’s bridal ring, and married the “Atlantic;” - And spite of all appearances, like the woman in the shoe, - She’s got so many “Young Folks” now she don’t know what to do. - - But I must say, I think it strange that thee and Mrs. Spalding, - Whose lives with Calvin’s five-barred creed have been so tightly walled in, - Should quit your Puritanic homes, and take the pains to go - So far, with malice aforethought, to walk in a vain show! - Did Emmons hunt for pictures? was Jonathan Edwards peeping - Into the chambers of imagery with maids for Tammuz weeping? - - Ah, well, the times are sadly changed, and I myself am feeling - The wicked world my Quaker coat from off my shoulders peeling; - God grant that, in the strange new sea of change wherein we swim, - We still may keep the good old plank of simple faith in Him! - - P.S. My housekeeper’s got the “tissick,” and gone away, and Lizzie - Is at home for the vacation, with flounce and trimmings busy; - The snow lies white about us, the birds again are dumb,-- - The lying blue-frocked rascals who told us Spring had come; - But in the woods of Folly-Mill the sweet May-flowers are making - All ready for the moment of Nature’s glad awaking. - - Come when they come; their welcome share:--except when at the city, - For months I’ve scarce seen womankind, save when, in sheerest pity, - Gail Hamilton came up, beside my lonely hearth to sit, - And make the Winter evening glad with wisdom and with wit - And fancy, feeling but the spur and not the curbing bit, - Lending a womanly charm to what before was bachelor rudeness;-- - The Lord reward her for an act of disinterested goodness! - - And now, with love to Mrs. F., and Mrs. S. (God bless her!), - And hoping that my foolish rhyme may not prove a transgressor, - And wishing for your sake and mine, it wiser were and wittier, - I leave it, and subscribe myself, your old friend, - - JOHN G. WHITTIER. - - -TO MRS. J. T. FIELDS. - - - BEVERLY, June 21, 1866. - -DEAR ANNIE,--Here I am once more by the salt sea, and out of the -beautiful retreat of the Shakers, where we said “Good-by.” - -“Aunt Mary” told me I might come again, and if it were not for the -vision of that great dining-room, and the “two settings” of brethren -and sisters, and the general wash-basin, I should almost be tempted to -go also, and steep myself in that great quietness: only one would need -a book now and then, and literature seems to be tabooed among them. - -Mr. Whittier was much interested to hear of our adventures. I think I -must have been eloquent about cider, for he said, “I wish I had some -of it this minute,” so earnestly that I wished I had my hand upon that -invisible Shaker barrel.... - - -TO MRS. CELIA THAXTER. - - BEVERLY, July 16, 1867. - -MY DEAR FRIEND,--To think that yesterday I was among the Enchanted -Isles, and to-day here, with only the warm murmur of the west wind -among the elms! The glory of the day and the far eastern sea lingers -with me yet. How I do thank you for those three bright days! The -undercurrent of memory would have been too much but for your kindness. - -I think I kept it well covered, but there was a vast unrest in me, -all those days. I seemed to myself wandering over the turfy slopes, -and the rocks, and the sea, in search of a dream, a sweet, impalpable -presence that ever eluded me. I never knew how fully dear Lizzie[6] -filled my heart, until she was gone. Is it always so? But that Island -is Lizzie to me, now. It was the refuge of her dreams, when she could -not be there in reality. Her whole being seemed to blossom out into -the immense spaces of the sea. I am glad that I have been there once -again, and with only the dear brother, and you whom she loved and -admired so much. For you _are_ an enchantress. It is a great gift to -attract and to _hold_ as you can, and rare, even among women. To some -it is a snare, but I do not believe it ever can be to you, because -the large generosity of the sea was born into you. How can you help -it, if your waves overblow with music, and all sorts of mysterious -wealth upon others of us humans? I hope you beguiled our friend into -a stay of more than the one day he spoke of. It was doing him so much -good to be there, in that free and easy way; just the life he ought to -lead for half the year, at least. I shall always use my meagre arts -most earnestly to get him to the Island when you are there. There is -such a difference in human atmospheres, you know; the petty, east-wind -blighted inhabitants of towns are not good for the health of such as -he. I esteem it one of the wonderful blessings of my life that he does -not feel uncomfortable when I am about. With you, there is the added -element of exhilaration, the rarest thing to receive, as one gets into -years. - -It is a sacred trust, the friendship of such a man. - - -TO MISS JEAN INGELOW. - - BEVERLY, MASS., December 15, 1867. - -MY DEAR MISS INGELOW,--It was very kind of you to write to me, and -I can hardly tell you how much pleasure your letter gave me, in my -at present lonely and unsettled life. I think a woman’s life is -necessarily lonely, if unsettled: the home-instinct lies so deep in us. -But I have never had a real home since I was a little child. I have -married sisters, with whom I stay, when my work allows it, but that is -not like one’s own place. I want a corner exclusively mine, in which to -spin my own web and ravel it again, if I wish. - -I wish I could learn to think my own thoughts in the thick of other -people’s lives, but I never could, and I am too old to begin now. -However, there are compensations in all things, and I would not be out -of reach of the happy children’s voices, which echo round me, although -they will break in upon me rather suddenly, sometimes. - -You asked about the sea,--our sea. The coast here is not remarkable. -Just here there is a deep, sunny harbor, that sheltered the second -company of the Pilgrim settlers from the Mother-Country, more than two -centuries ago. A little river, which has leave to be such only at the -return of the tide, half clasps the town in its crooked arm, and makes -many an opening of beauty twice a day, among the fields and under the -hills. The harbor is so shut in by islands, it has the effect of a -lake; and the tide comes up over the wide, weedy flats, with a gentle -and gradual flow. There are never any dangerous “High Tides” here. But -up the shore a mile or two, the islands drift away, and the sea opens -gradually as we near the storm-beaten point of Cape Ann, where we can -see nothing but the waves and the ships, between us and Great Britain. -The granite cliffs grow higher towards the Cape, but their hollows are -relieved by little thickets of intensely red wild roses, and later, by -the purple twinkling asters and the golden-rod’s embodied sunshine. - -The east wind is bitter upon our coast. The wild rocks along the -Cape are strewn with memories of shipwreck. Perhaps you remember -Longfellow’s “Wreck of the Hesperus.” The “Reef of Norman’s Woe” is -at Cape Ann, ten miles or so from here. About the same distance out, -there is a group of islands,--the Isles of Shoals, which are a favorite -resort in the summer, and getting to be somewhat too fashionable, for -their charm is the wildness which they reveal and allow. Dressed up -people spoil nature, somehow; unintentionally, I suppose; but the human -butterflies are better in their own _parterres_. At Appledore, one of -the larger of these islands, I have spent many happy days with the -sister of our poet Whittier, now passed to the eternal shores,--and -the last summer was there again, without her, alas! I missed her so, -even though her noble brother was there! Perhaps that only recalled the -lost, lovely days too vividly. I have seldom loved any one as I loved -her. - -These islands are full of strange gorges and caverns, haunted with -stories of pirate and ghost. The old-world romance seems to have -floated to them. And there I first saw your English pimpernel. It -came here with the Pilgrims, I suppose, as it is not a native. It -is pleasant to meet with these emigrant flowers. Most of them are -carefully tended in gardens, but some are healthily naturalized in -the bleakest spots. I should so like to see the daisies--Chaucer’s -daisies--in their native fields; and the “yellow primrose,” too. -Neither of these grows readily in our gardens. I have seen them only as -petted house-plants. - -I recognize some of our wild flowers in your “Songs of Seven.” By the -way, Mr. Niles has sent me an illustrated copy of it, and what a gem -it is! But I hardly know what are especially ours. Have you the tiny -blue four-petaled “Houstonia Cærulia”?--our first flower of spring, -that and the rock-saxifrage! And is October in England gladdened with -the heavenly azure of the fringed gentian? And does the climbing -bitter-sweet hang its orange-colored fruit high in the deep green -of the pine-trees, in the autumn? The most wonderful climber I ever -saw was the trumpet-vine of the West. It grew on the banks of the -Mississippi, climbing to the top of immense primeval trees, bursting -out, there, into great red, clarion-like flowers. It seems literally to -fix a foot in the trees as it climbs,--and it has an uncivilized way -of pulling the shingles off the roofs of the houses over which it is -trained. I am glad that violets are common property in the world. The -prairies are blue with them. How at home they used to make me feel! for -they are New England blossoms too. - -I wonder if you like the mountains as well as you do the sea. I am -afraid I do, and better, even. It seems half disloyal to say so, for -I was born here; to me there is rest and strength, and aspiration -and exultation, among the mountains. They are nearly a day’s journey -from us--the White Mountains--but I will go, and get a glimpse and a -breath of their glory, once a year, always. I was at Winnipiseogee, a -mountain-girdled lake, in New Hampshire, when I saw your handwriting, -first,--in a letter which told of your having been in Switzerland. We -have no sky-cleaving Alps,--there is a massiveness, a breadth, about -the hill scenery here, quite unlike them, I fancy. But such cascades, -such streams as rise in the hard granite, pure as liquid diamonds, and -with a clear little thread of music! - -I usually stop at a village on the banks of the Pemigewasset, a small -silvery river that flows from the Notch Mountains,--a noble pile, that -hangs like a dream, and flits like one too, in the cloudy air, as -you follow the stream’s winding up to the Flume, which is a strange -grotto, cut sharply down hundreds of feet through a mountain’s heart; -an immense boulder was lodged in the cleft when it was riven, half way -down, and there it forever hangs, over the singing stream. The sundered -rocks are dark with pines, and I never saw anything lovelier than the -green light with which the grotto is flooded by the afternoon sun. But -I must not go on about the mountains, or I shall never stop,--I want to -say something about our poets, but I will not do that, either. - -Beauty drifts to us from the mother-land, across the sea, in argosies -of poetry. How rich we are with Old England’s wealth! Our own lies yet -somewhat in the ore, but I think we have the genuine metal. - -How true it is, as you say, that we can never utter the best that is in -us, poets or not. And the great true voices are so, not so much because -they can speak for themselves, but because they are the voices of our -common humanity. - -The poets are but leaders in the chorus of souls--they utter our pæans -and our _misereres_, and so we feel that they belong to us. It is -indeed a divine gift, the power of drawing hearts upward through the -magic of a song; and the anointed ones must receive their chrism with -a holy humility. They receive but to give again,--“more blessed” so. -And they may also receive the gratitude of those they bless, to give it -back to God. - -I hope you will write to me again some time, though I am afraid I -ought not to expect it. I know what it is to have the day too short for -the occupations which _must_ fill it,--to say nothing of what _might_, -very pleasantly, too. - -But I shall always be sincerely and gratefully yours, - - LUCY LARCOM. - - -TO J. G. WHITTIER. - - BEVERLY, February 28, 1868. - -MY DEAR FRIEND,--Nothing would be pleasanter to me than a visit to -Amesbury, and the cold weather is no especial drawback. But I cannot be -away from Beverly now, my mother is so ill. She has been suffering very -much all winter, but is now nearly helpless, and I think she is rapidly -failing. She has an experienced nurse with her, and there is little -that any of us can do for her, except to look in now and then, and -let her know that her children are not far away. That seems to be her -principal earthly comfort. The coming rest is very welcome to her. She -lies peacefully hoping for it, and she has suffered, and still does, -such intense pain, I cannot feel as I otherwise would about her leaving -us. But the rending of these familiar ties is always very hard to bear. -She has been a good, kind mother to me, and it is saddest of all to see -her suffer without the power of relief; to know that death only can end -her pain. - -I think of you often, and wish I could sit down for an evening by the -light of your cheery wood fire, and have one of the old-time chats. I -am so glad that A---- is there, to make it home-like. I think my most -delightful remembrances of Amesbury are of that fireside, and the faces -gathered about it, upon which the soft flow of the flames flickered -and kindled, with the playful and varying interchange of thought. Last -Sunday night I spent at Harriet Pitman’s. Cold enough it was, too. But -the greenhouse is a small edition of the tropics, and full of blossoms -and sweet odors. I should want to live in it, if I were there. - -I do not know what to make of the aspect of things at Washington. It -cannot be that we shall be left to plunge into another war, and yet -we may need it. I do not see that our terrible struggle made the deep -impression it should in establishing national principles. Only apathy -to the most vital interests could have brought us to this pass. It -seems as if A. J. must show himself an absolute fiend, before his -removal is insisted upon. - - -Miss Larcom’s mother died March 14, 1868. The bereavement was great; -but the long illness had prepared her daughter for the affliction. -Years afterwards she used to say that when in trouble or despondency, -like a child she wanted to cry out for her mother. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -WRITINGS AND LETTERS. - -1868-1880. - - -Though Miss Larcom’s formal connection with school life ended when -she left Norton, she continued to deliver occasional, and sometimes -weekly, lectures at different schools, on topics illustrating English -literature. In 1867, and at intervals for years after, at the Ipswich -Academy, at Wheaton, at Dr. Gannett’s school, and at Bradford Academy, -the students never forgot her addresses on “Criticism,” “Elizabethan -Poetry,” “The Drama,” and “Sidney’s ‘Arcadia.’” - -In spite of the fact that she received a fair salary from “Our Young -Folks,” and added to her resources by teaching and by printing poems -in the magazines, it was necessary for her to practice economy. With -the intention of being careful in her expenditures, she took rooms in -Boston, purchasing and cooking her own food. She alluded to the plan -thus: “In my housekeeping plan, I am going to carry out a pet notion. -People generally prefer indigestible food, I find; at least, I cannot -often get what I can digest. So I am going to teach myself to make -unleavened bread, and all sorts of coarse-grained eatables, and these, -with figs and dates, and baked apples, and a little meat now and then, -will keep me in clover.” Her friends, hearing of the way in which she -“caricatured housekeeping,” sent her boxes full of good things. It was -with the pleasure of a school girl receiving a Thanksgiving box, that -she acknowledged the receipt of eggs, cranberries, apples, and “such -exquisitely sweet butter.” She proved that with very little expense -one can be happy, if the spirit is cheerful. This incident is an -illustration of a lifetime of economical living. - -The year 1868 was an important one to her, for in it her first volume -of verse was printed. Influenced by the wishes of her friends for a -keepsake, and feeling that, if she published, it would be a record of -work done, and from it, as a mile-stone, she would be encouraged to -do better verse-making in the future, she launched upon the literary -market her book, entitled simply “Poems.” It contained many of the -lyrics upon which her fame as a poet will always be based. “Hannah,” -and “Skipper Ben,” and “Hilary” have a place in it. “Hand in Hand with -Angels” keeps before one the thought of unseen spiritual presences. “A -Year in Heaven” reminds one of the life beyond, while “At the Beautiful -Gate” expresses the longing of the soul for greater truth:-- - - “Lord, open the door, for I falter, - I faint in this stifled air.” - -The sweet quietude of “The Chamber called Peace” surrounds the reader, -for it merited Mr. Whittier’s remark that “it is really one of the -sweetest poems of Christian consolation I have read.” The rich, full -notes of “A Thanksgiving” are heard, as a human soul pours forth its -earnest gratitude:-- - - “For the world’s exhaustless beauty, - I thank thee, O my God!” - -About this poem, Rev. J. W. Chadwick said to her, “Your ‘Thanksgiving’ -has become ritual in my church. If the people did not hear it every -year, they would think the times were out of joint.” - -Miss Ingelow wrote her that she liked best “A White Sunday,” with its -hopeful lines, expressing “the earnest expectation of the creature:”-- - - “The World we live in wholly is redeemed; - Not man alone, but all that man holds dear: - His orchards and his maize; forget-me-not - And heart’s-ease, in his garden; and the wild - Aerial blossoms of the untrained wood, - That makes its savagery so home-like; all - Have felt Christ’s sweet Love watering their roots - His Sacrifice has won both Earth and Heaven.” - -The “Poems” were well received everywhere, and the reviewers were -generally most complimentary. It was seen at once that a real poet, of -true inspiration, had taken a permanent place in American literature. -The musical modulations of the verse, with its tender lyrical quality, -its local New England coloring, and its strong moral sentiment, soon -gained her the affections of the people. - -The name “Lucy Larcom” was now well known; but, curiously enough, it -was not associated with her personality, for it was thought to be a -fictitious name, with “Apt alliteration’s artful aid.” A habit common -among certain authors of the day was to have such euphonious _noms de -plume_ as “Minnie Myrtle,” “Fanny Forrester,” “Grace Greenwood;” and it -was natural that “Lucy Larcom” should be classed with them. She often -had amusing encounters with strangers about her identity. On the cars -one day, a woman changed her seat for one in front of Miss Larcom, and, -turning round, put the question, “Are you really Lucy Larcom, the poet? -Some one said you were.” - -“Yes, that is my name.” - -“Then it is not a made-up name? Well, we never thought it was real when -we read your pieces; and we thought you were younger.” - -“I am sorry to disappoint you.” - -“Oh! You don’t disappoint me! I like the looks of you; only, people -will have their ideas about poets.” - -A gentleman who had just been introduced to her was discussing the -subject of names. He asked the derivation of her name; she told him -that it was originally “Lark-Holme,” the home of the larks; then he -said, “Is there not some one who takes your name, and writes poetry, -calling herself ‘Lucy Larcom’? I never read any of the stuff.” - -In 1872, she did her first work of collaboration with Mr. Whittier. -Conceiving the plan of printing a volume of poems dealing with the -life of children, he secured her aid, and “Child-Life” was the first -book which they produced in this way. He deferred to her judgment in -the selection of the material, and, when doubtful, he always accepted -her opinion. In sending her some poems for the collection, he wrote, -“I leave thee to thy judgment; I think they will do, but I defer to -thy wisdom.” Her name is thus associated with the happy hours of many -children, who were, and are, brought up on the wholesome verses of this -nursery book. “The Owl and the Pussycat,” “The Spider and the Fly,” and -“Philip, my King,” with appropriate pictures, first became known to -thousands of children, from this green-covered daily companion. - -“Child-Life in Prose” came as a natural sequel to child-life in poetry; -and Hawthorne’s “Little Annie’s Ramble,” Lamb’s “Dream Children,” “The -Ugly Duckling” of Hans Andersen, and “The Story without End,” were made -familiar through the medium of its pages. - -Doubtless influenced by these publications, Miss Larcom decided to -print, in a volume of her own, the children’s poems she had written, -especially those for “Our Young Folks;” so in 1873 her “Childhood -Songs” appeared. - - - AMESBURY, November 25, 1874. - -DEAR FRIEND,--I have just been looking over the beautiful book of -“Childhood Songs,” and my judgment is, that it is the best book of -the kind I have ever seen. It has many poems, which, beside their -adaptation to children, have a merit as lyrics, which I do not know -where to look for in other collections of this sort. The heart is -generally right in such books, but here head and heart are both -satisfactory. - -We did not get up so good a book as this in our “Child-Life.” - - Thy friend, - - J. G. WHITTIER. - - -TO MRS. MARY MAPES DODGE. - - BEVERLY FARMS, December 3, 1874. - -DEAR MRS. DODGE,--The publishers assure me that they sent you a copy of -“Childhood’s Songs,” as I requested. I hope you received it, at last. I -care to have you like it, as a lover of children, quite as much as to -have it spoken of in the magazine. - -Your own little book must be nice; I hope to see it when I go to Boston. - -Doubtless you are right about the verses. I always accept an editor’s -decision, without objecting, as I know the difficulties of the -position. I will write when I can. For a month or two, I shall be -specially busy, and possibly may not have time for “St. Nicholas,” for -which it is a pleasure to write. - - Yours most truly, LUCY LARCOM. - - -TO THE SAME. - - BEVERLY FARMS, December 30, 1874. - -MY DEAR MRS. DODGE,--Your charming “Rhymes and Jingles” followed -your pleasant note, and I thank you for both. The book is just what -children most enjoy, as a real mother’s book will be sure to be; and -you have some sweet little poems which seem to hide themselves too -modestly among the merry rhymes. - -I think I have the mother-feeling,--ideally, at least; a woman is not a -woman quite, who lacks it, be she married or single. The children--God -bless them!--belong to the mother-heart that beats in all true women. -They seem even dearer, sometimes, because I have none of my own to love -and be loved by, for there is a great emptiness that only child-love -can fill. So God made us, and I thank Him for it. The world’s -unmothered ones would be worse off if it were not so. - -Thank you for writing of yourself, and your boys. I wish I knew you, -face to face. I am sure we should find ourselves in sympathy in many -ways. - -I send a verse or two, for by and by, when the March winds blow. - -When I get to a little clearing of leisure, I will write more for “St. -Nicholas.” - - Truly your friend, - LUCY LARCOM. - - -TO MRS. J. T. FIELDS. - - BEVERLY FARMS, December 5, 1875. - -DEAR ANNIE,--I had a pleasant little visit at Mrs. Pitman’s after I -left you. We went to Professor Thayer’s, in Cambridge, that evening, -and heard Emerson’s noble paper on “Immortality,” which is soon to be -published. There is great satisfaction in hearing such words from such -a man’s own lips, for we know that Emerson has as little as mortal can -have of the haze of vanity between himself and the truth; and it is -this surely, oftener than anything else, that blinds men’s minds to the -open secret of eternal life. - -Mr. Longfellow was there, and I had a pleasant talk with him. He spoke -of the book he is preparing and told me he wanted to put into it -“Hannah Binding Shoes.” - -Mr. Garrison and Henry Vincent, the lecturer, were at Mrs. P.’s the -next day. - -I have been in Newburyport since I left Somerville, at my friend Mrs. -Spalding’s. Mr. Whittier came there on his way from Boston, and I did -not see that he was the worse for the woman-avalanche that descended -upon him at your door.... - - -In 1875, “An Idyl of Work,” dedicated to working women, was issued -by Osgood & Co. It is a long poem in blank verse, written chiefly in -pentameters, and describes most beautifully the life of the Lowell -factory girls, in “The Forties.” There is a song of delight in work, -running through it all. The incidents of prosaic labor are invested -with a charm; and the toiler’s lot is shown to have its bright side -in the community of womanly interests that develop strong traits of -character, and lead to lifelong attachments. It is an epic of labor, -giving a history of an episode in American manufacture, that proved -how mental and moral culture can be aided by hand-work, when the -laborer looks upon his occupation as his privilege. - -In the following year, “Roadside Poems,” a well-edited compilation of -mountain poetry, added a new interest to the country and the mountains, -for the summer traveler. Shelley, Wordsworth, Longfellow, Browning, and -Lowell, were made to act as interpreters of the wonders of the lane, -and the beauty of the sunrise over mountain sanctuaries, and to explain -the meaning of the storm reverberating among the hills. It is a little -book filled with glimpses of the sky, the fragrance of flowers, the -earth-smell of ferns, and the coloring of autumn leaves. - - -TO J. G. WHITTIER. - - 83 WALTHAM STREET, BOSTON, - January 1, 1878. - -... Of course you must have grown very tired of the poetry written -to you, and about you. I sent my verses to the “Transcript,” because -I thought you seemed too much pleased to think I had spared you the -infliction! Discipline can never come too late in life, I am confident! - -Still, I didn’t say a word more than the truth, and I think I spoke -sincerely for many others. It is a great thing to have won a nation’s -affection,--much greater than the greatest amount of mere fame. - -Judging from our own inside view, none of us deserve to be as well -thought of by our friends as we are; but the beauty of it is, that real -friendship knows us best after all, because it sees in us our best aim, -endeavor, and possibilities, and lets our failures and imperfections -pass by and be forgotten. Why not, when the judge is always so -imperfect, too? - -The sum of which is, that we all think you a pretty good sort of man, -as men go. - - Always thy friend, - LUCY LARCOM. - - -TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING. - - 83 WALTHAM STREET, January 17, 1878. - -I have been reading the Book of Romans through, trying to forget that I -had ever read it before, and I find that “justification by faith” seems -to me a very different doctrine from the one I was brought up on. I -don’t know that I should understand it as Luther did. But it seems to -me grander than I have dreamed of before. It is freedom to stand with -our faces to the light, whatever our past may have been; freedom to do -right from the love of it, and not as burdensome duty; and the love of -doing right as the proof of deliverance. Is not this the “grace wherein -ye stand,” which Paul preached as free grace in Christ? - -I find very little in the Book of Romans which points to some _future_ -salvation. It is the life redeemed from love of sin, which he seems -to be talking to the Romans about. I do wish religion were made more -practical in theology, after this Pauline fashion. I do not care for -any commentator’s judgment. I think that common sense and a sincere -desire for truth will be shown the right interpretation.... - - -During part of the winter of 1878, Miss Larcom made her only foreign -trip--a visit to Europe never being possible, on account of the -expense--to Bermuda, which she thoroughly enjoyed. She wrote letters to -the Boston “Daily Advertiser,” describing the “Still vexed Bermoothes,” -with enthusiastic appreciation. The recollection of Miranda and -Prospero, with “hag-born” Caliban, interested her as much as the houses -with walls of coral, or the transparency of the beryl sea, through -which one could see the sponges, and large purple amenones, and fish -of brilliant hues. “A banana plantation is rather a shabby-looking -affair; the leaves are beaten to tatters by the island tempests; but -for a contrast there is the royal palm, to see which for the first time -is an era in one’s life, lifting its stately column above the cocoanut -and India rubber trees. And we are satisfied that roses smell no less -sweet for growing on the border of an onion patch. After all this -wonder of foreign growths it is pleasant to see a dandelion in flower, -and to find little mats of pimpernel on the hillside before our hotel. -These little home-blossoms deepen the home feeling, and we are no more -foreigners, even here.” - -A poem full of semi-tropical scenery, written on this trip, appeared in -“Harper’s Magazine:”-- - - “Under the eaves of a southern sky, - Where the cloud-roof bends to the ocean floor, - Hid in lonely seas, the Bermoothes lie, - An emerald cluster that Neptune bore - Away from the covetous earth-god’s sight, - And placed in a setting of sapphire light.” - -For “pot-boilers,” Miss Larcom undertook various inferior kinds of -literary work, such as compilations of poetical calendars, and short -biographical notices of famous people. One of her books of this class, -“Landscape in American Poetry,” with beautiful illustrations by Mr. J. -Appleton Brown, was published in 1879. There was some original writing -in it, but in the main, it was a collection from many sources, of poems -dealing with interesting places in America. - - -TO MRS. E. B. WHEATON. - - 627 TREMONT STREET, BOSTON, - January 21, 1879. - -MY DEAR MRS. WHEATON,--I have been intending to write, ever since I was -at Norton, and tell you how much I enjoyed being there, and returning -to the spirit of my old days at the Seminary. - -I was so ill the last years of my stay there, I hardly knew how much -of a home it was to me. To go back in restored health was a revelation -of the old joy in my work. I think there must be something of the same -feeling in looking back from the better world we hope for, when we -have passed from this. We shall never know how good and beautiful a -world we have lived in until we get away from it, and can get a glimpse -of it with all our weariness and cares laid aside. - -I think a great deal of the beautiful atmosphere which pervades the -Norton life is due to the generous idea in which the school was -founded. It gives the place a home feeling rarely found in such schools. - - Ever truly yours, - LUCY LARCOM. - - -TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING. - - BOSTON, December 6, 1879. - -When I came home from the reception and breakfast given to Dr. Holmes -on Wednesday, I thought I would sit down and write you about it at -once.... The breakfast was a splendid success; you have probably read -about it, but there was a certain exhilaration in being in the presence -of so many bright people, and feeling perfectly at home, which was -indescribable. I never expected to enjoy anything of the kind at all, -but I was really taken off my feet, in a figurative sense. Dr. Holmes -filled the place of honor in a delightful manner. It was really like -sitting down at his own breakfast table. Mrs. Whitney and I went at -twelve as invited. I left at a little past six and they were not -through with their letters and speeches then. I was introduced to ever -so many people I never saw before. - -... I don’t know but the pleasantest thing to me was the opportunity of -speaking to Rev. Phillips Brooks, or rather of hearing him speak face -to face. To look up into his honest, clear eyes, was like seeing the -steady lights in a watch-tower; and a tower of strength he is among us. -The outward largeness of the man is a type of his moral strength and -mental breadth and spiritual height, I am more than ever convinced. I -never spoke to a man who seemed so thoroughly grand to me. - -Mr. Whittier came, but remained a very short time. I saw him only a -moment, just before we went in. My escort--they were all coupled off by -a printed plan--was Mr. William Winter, a New York poet and journalist. -He was very entertaining, and I think his poem was the best and most -effective of the occasion. - -... I am fast getting to be a dissipated woman, but I must and will put -myself to work steadily for a week or two. - - -This was the first meeting between Miss Larcom and Mr. Brooks. She -had heard him preach at Trinity Church and was greatly helped by his -sermons, for which she had often thanked him by letter, and, in return, -had received some few characteristic lines, like the following:-- - - - BOSTON, April 14, 1879. - -MY DEAR MISS LARCOM,--The preaching of Christ as a personal friend -and Saviour of all our souls becomes to me more and more the one -interesting work of life, and the readiness of the people to hear that -one simple message, which, in its endlessly various forms, is always -the same, gives me ever new satisfaction and delight. - -I have known you by your verses for years. I hope some day we may meet. - - Yours very truly, - PHILLIPS BROOKS. - - -The friendship between them deepened, as the years went on. They had -many serious conversations on spiritual subjects, and he became to -her the great religious guide of her life. His personality, with its -earnest, and even fierce, love for the simplicity of truth, and the -power with which he presented it, made the deepest impression upon her -in her last decade, and brought to the fruition of spiritual loveliness -the remaining years of her career. - - - BOSTON, March 20, 1880. - -MY DEAR MISS LARCOM,--You will allow me to thank you for your note and -to say how truly glad I am if anything I said on Wednesday evening -helped you in your thought of the Lord’s Supper. To me the Personalness -of the great Sacrament seems to be the key to all its meaning, and its -simplicity is its grandeur and its charm. - - Ever yours sincerely, - PHILLIPS BROOKS. - - -TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING. - - 627 TREMONT STREET, - February 12, 1880. - -... You must be disheartened often, in having to listen to the vagaries -of the many who have ordained themselves prime ministers of divine -affairs. I really cannot feel it right to put myself in the way of -hearing such talk. - -What can the end be, since there is common sense among the people, but -a disgust for preaching altogether? - -But I believe in a movement towards a service in which worship shall -be the chief element; and I don’t think I am a step nearer Episcopacy, -either. I am trying to like that, because I have always been unjustly -prejudiced against it, but I am a born Independent at heart.... - - -The years of Miss Larcom’s greatest poetical production were brought to -a close by the printing, in 1880, of “The Wild Roses of Cape Ann.” Her -works were bound together in a Household Edition, in 1884. After this, -she wrote continually for the magazines, and on anniversary occasions -of various kinds. Some of these verses were included, with a few new -ones, in the booklet “Easter Gleams,” and in the selection of religious -poems, called “At the Beautiful Gate,” but no noted additions were made -to her poems after this, though there are many of her lines of great -beauty, scattered through the pages of current ephemeral literature, -up to the time of her death. - - -TO S. T. PICKARD. - - BETHEL, ME., September 30, 1880. - -MY DEAR MR. PICKARD--I go to-morrow to Berlin Falls, New Hampshire, to -stay at the Cascade House until I have finished reading my proof.[7] I -wish to thank you for your interest in the book about to be. It will -have more character and more local color than the other; but I do not -write for critics, but for my friends, as the dedication will show, and -I do not care much whether critics like it or not, provided my friends -do. - -I can conceive of no greater damper upon one’s poetic attempts than -the cold water of criticism. It is from heart to heart, from friend to -friend, that I write; and I find in that the highest inspiration to do -my best. Of course I am glad to enlarge the circle of my friends in -this way; and poetry has amply repaid me in the coin of friendship. -One gives out life in writing; and nothing but life in return--life -enlarged and filled--gives any true satisfaction. Of course I shall -send you a copy, not editorially, but personally. - - -The “Wild Roses” were fragrant, and delighted some of the critics, -even, for in addition to those that grew along Cape Ann, there were -many cultivated ones, that blossomed beside the still waters of -thought, and in the quiet retreats of meditation:-- - - “A Rose is sweet, - No matter where it grows: and roses grow - Nursed by the pure heavens, and the strengthening earth, - Wherever men will let them. Every waste - And solitary place is glad for them, - Since the old prophets sang, so, until now.” - -“Phebe” has a prominent place in the book--the poem that drew from Mr. -Howells, when he was editor of the “Atlantic,” a most graceful note of -acceptance:-- - - -MY DEAR MISS LARCOM,--You take rejections so sweetly, that I have -scarcely the heart to accept anything of yours. But I do like “Phebe,” -and I am going to keep her. - - -“Shared” excited admiration; and was pronounced by one competent critic -to be the best religious lyric of the decade:-- - - “The air we breathe, the sky, the breeze, - The light without us and within, - Life, with its unlocked treasuries, - God’s riches, are for all to win.” - -The theological poem, “The Heart of God,” was the cause of controversy. -A stranger wrote, asking her to change it, for he thought it expressed -too clearly “the old doctrine of the Divinity of Christ.” She answered -politely, but with a strong statement of her faith, that what he -called “the old Doctrine” was the inspiration of the verses: “To me, -Christ is the Infinite Person, at once human and divine. God exists -as impersonal Spirit, but I know Him only as a person through Christ. -The historical Christ is entirely true to me, as the only way in which -God could humanly be known to us. It is no more impossible for me to -believe that the ‘Eternal Christ of God,’ the personal manifestation of -Deity, should veil Himself for a time with the human form, than that -we, in our humble personality, as sharers of the Divine Nature, should -wear it as we do.” The same truth she put strongly in “Our Christ,” -when she wrote:-- - - “In Christ I feel the Heart of God.” - -Concerning this poem, the Rev. W. Garrett Horder, the English -hymnologist, writes that it has been accorded a place in “Hymns -Supplemental” for Congregational churches, and was sung for the first -time in England, February 14, 1894, in Colby Chapel, Bradford. - -In making an analytical study of Miss Larcom’s poetry, the range of -her verse becomes apparent. She finds expression for her muse in -almost all forms of versification: the epic, as in “An Idyl of Work;” -the ballad, with its merry lines, relating some story of early New -England days, or some delightful old legend; the lyric in its numerous -forms,--pastoral songs that breathe of the fields and pretty farms, -lyrics of nature in her peaceful moods when the wayside flower dwells -securely, or in her grander moods when the mountains hide themselves -in storm-clouds, or the sea moans in the deepening tempest; lyrics of -grief, when, in solemn and plaintive strains, she chants the dirge of -Elizabeth Whittier, or tolls the passing bell of Lincoln, or sheds a -tear over the grave of Garfield; and sacred lyrics, in which she deals -with the deepest emotions of the human heart, expressing its longing -after immortality, and its adoration for God. The range of her verse -is further enlarged by the addition of the sonnet’s “narrow plot of -ground,” and the stately movement of the ode. - -Her lines always have a musical flow born of intense emotion. They have -a smoothness and ripple, like the flow of the summer brook, or the even -modulations of the tides. At times, they possess a cadence not unlike -what Mr. Arnold, speaking of Spenser, calls “fluidity,”--an effect -produced by combinations of melodious sounds, as in these lines from -“On the Beach:”-- - - “And glimmering beach, and plover’s flight, - And that long surge that rolls - Through bands of green and purple light, - Are fairer to our human sight - Because of human souls.” - -Again, in “Golden-Rod:”-- - - “The swinging harebell faintly tolled - Upon the still autumnal air, - The golden-rod bent down to hold - Her rows of funeral torches there.” - -And in “My Mountain:”-- - - “I shut my eyes in the snow-fall, - And dream a dream of the hills; - The sweep of a host of mountains, - The flash of a hundred rills.” - -Together with the music, there is strength in her verses, when she -attempts to deal with subjects that call for vigorous treatment. In the -“Rose Enthroned,” there is a strong grasping at the origin of things, -and powerful descriptions of the primeval birth-throes that, from the -war of elements, issued forth in the fairness of creation. - - “Built by the warring elements they rise, - The massive earth-foundations, tier on tier, - Where slimy monsters with unhuman eyes - Their hideous heads uprear.” - -In her mountain descriptions there is the same power. The wind-beaten -and thunder-scarred summit of Whiteface presents itself to her as the -visage of a monarch, who seems to rule the race of giant hills. The -effect of a mountain whose slopes plunge into the sea is graphically -given in the phrase, “Plunged knee-deep in yon glistening sea.” Her -appreciation for beautiful details of nature, that seemed to escape -the common observer, is seen in her similes and epithets; the little -streams winding through the marshes are called “sea-fed creeks;” the -mists that rise in the evening, reflecting the light of the descending -sun, are “violet mists;” the quiet of the fields of clover, when one -is out of sound of the waves, are fitly called “sweet inland silences;” -the heart of the woods, where are the shadows, has its “forest crypts;” -and there are “mosaics of tinted moss.” - -Dr. Holmes very well describes her when he says: “She was as true a -product of our Essex County soil as the bayberry; and her nature had -the chaste and sweet fragrance of its fair and wholesome leaves. She -was a true poetess, and a noble woman.” Her writings have the genuine -flavor of the soil, like the perfume of the woods, or the salt spray -that bathes one’s face along the seashore. Mr. Whittier thus analyzed -her powers as a poet: “She holds in rare combination the healthfulness -of simple truth and common sense, with the fine and delicate fancy, and -an artist’s perception of all beauty.” Mr. Stedman, in his “Poets of -America,” speaks of her as a sweet-voiced singer of “orchard notes.” -This is a good partial description of certain of her songs, but as -an estimate of her poetical ability it is very limited. She was not -disturbed by the criticism, but wrote thus to a friend. - - -TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING. - - 4 HOTEL BYRON, BERKELEY STREET, - BOSTON, March 8, 1886. - -... Don’t be troubled about “orchard-notes.” I consider it the highest -compliment. - -Think of goldfinches and linnets, song-sparrows and orioles! I know and -love their separate songs, and should feel proud if I thought _my_ -singing deserved comparison with theirs. Why, three fourths of the -cheer of the spring and summer-time is in those same orchard-notes! -I shall have to try hard to live up to my reputation. But if you do -think I get up a little higher into the air, a little farther off into -the wilderness sometimes, for a more meditative flight of song, just -remember that very high critics do not always comprehend the music in -the air about them. Does not Milton write of Shakespeare as “Fancy’s -child,” and of his poetry as “wood-notes wild”? - - -Such an estimate must be imperfect, because it leaves out of -consideration the moral power of her religious writings, which, more -than her nature-songs, have won for her a place in the regard of the -people. A gentleman thanking her for the gift of one of her books, -expressed for many readers a recognition of this deeper hold: “A soul -once fed and inspired as was mine, at a critical and sad juncture of -its life, by your poetry, is likely to open, as I did, the beautiful -book your kindness sent me, with strange delight.” One who could write -“A Thanksgiving,” with its noble lines,-- - - “For thine own great gift of Being, - I thank Thee, O my God,” - -and the words,-- - - “Lord, enter this house of my being - And fill every room with Thy light,”-- - -should certainly be called a religious poet of a high order; and her -poems are filled with such passages as that which follows, presenting -religious thought simply and convincingly:-- - - “God hears - The prayer the good man means, the Soul’s desire, - Under whatever rubbish of vain speech; - And prayer is, must be, each man’s deepest words. - He who denies its power, still uses it, - Whenever he names God, or thinks of Him.” - -Poetry, to her, was vastly more than word-shaping, or combinations of -accented and unaccented syllables; it was an attitude of mind and soul -towards all existence, a view-point of her being, from which she saw -such visions, and heard such sounds, that the impulse was irresistible -to record in recognized poetic form her ideas and feelings. She found -poetry in everything around her; it was the atmosphere she breathed, -the medium, like imponderable ether, through which she saw life. Nature -had a more profound meaning to her than the charm of color, or the -changing pleasures of the land or the sea. It was the visible evidence -of the unseen, the prophecy of a greater fulfillment, the proclamation -of the spiritual element within, which the senses of themselves could -not perceive. She once said, “Nature is one vast metaphor through which -spiritual truth may be read:”-- - - “The Universe is one great loving Thought, - Written in Hieroglyphs of bud and bloom.” - -The delicate and spiritual nature of womanhood, too, with its heroism, -breathed through all she wrote. Everything she touched glowed with -the light of purity. Her aim was to uplift and sweeten life, by a -revelation of its true meaning. Her measures are choice; her passion -is genuine; her verses sincere; and the _morale_ of them is always -elevating. - -Our literature is not rich in women poets of the highest genius, but -there are many who have sung true songs. Maria Lowell was permitted to -give us a few notes only of her chaste singing. The Cary sisters, Mrs. -Cook, Mrs. Greenough, and Helen Hunt Jackson, and many who now enliven -our magazines, have done genuine work; but one often looks in vain for -the power that distinguished Miss Larcom. Considering the range of -the versification, the music of the lines, the strength of phrase and -beauty of metaphor, and lofty moral intensity of her poetry, it is not -claiming too much to say that it exhibits a genius as versatile and as -rich in its utterance as that of any of her female contemporaries, and -considering the impression that she has made upon the people, at their -firesides and in their worship, she holds a place, equal to any, in -their hearts. - -Her poems have been recognized in many collections in our land and in -England. Mr. Longfellow in his “Poems of Places” has remembered her. -She is honored in Emerson’s “Parnassus;” one of her hymns is included -in Dr. Martineau’s “Hymns of the Spirit;” she has been given a place, -by Mr. Garrett Horder, in “A Treasury of Sacred Song from American -Sources;” by Mr. Higginson, in “American Sonnets;” by Mr. Richard Grant -White, in “The Poetry of the Rebellion;” and by Mr. W. M. Rossetti, in -his “English Selections from Popular Poets.” - -The following letter to Dr. John Hunter of Glasgow shows that she -enjoyed this recognition of her work:-- - - - BEVERLY, MASS., July 10, 1890. - -DEAR SIR,--A friend gave me your “Hymns of Faith and Life,” in the -winter, telling me she had found one or two of mine in it. On looking -it over, I find five, not all of which are credited to me, though -all are included in the Household Edition of my poems, published -by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. I thought you would like to know the -authorship, and therefore write. - -Of course I am gratified to know that my hymns were taken on their own -merit apparently, and I am glad if anything I have written is a natural -expression of sincere worship for other hearts and voices than my own. - - Truly yours, - LUCY LARCOM. - - -The two following letters illustrate how Dr. Holmes and Mr. Longfellow -appreciated Miss Larcom’s work. - - - 296 BEACON STREET, November 17, 1880. - -MY DEAR MISS LARCOM,--I have been reading your poems at all the -spare moments I could find this evening. Many of them I read -carefully--every page I tasted. My wife and daughter were sitting -opposite to me, and I had to shade my eyes with my hand that they -should not see the tears shining in them--this over and over again. -The poems are eminently wholesome, sweet, natural. Their perfume is as -characteristic of the soil they spring from as that of the sweet fern -or the bayberry. - -It is pleasant to me to find my name in such good company as it is in -your pages, and if anything I have written has ever given you pleasure -this volume has amply repaid me. - - Very sincerely yours, - O. W. HOLMES. - -P.S. (Worth all the rest). I got a letter from Mr. Whittier which reads -as follows:-- - -“Has thee seen Miss Larcom’s ‘Cape Ann’? I like it, and in reading it I -thought thee would also. Get it and see if she has not a right to stand -with the rest of us. Wishing thee a pleasant Thanksgiving after the -manner of the enclosed card, I am faithfully thy friend, - - J. G. WHITTIER.” - - - CAMBRIDGE, December 24, 1880. - -DEAR MISS LARCOM,--I thank you very much for your beautiful volume -of beautiful poems. I have been reading it this morning with great -enjoyment. - -I always liked your poetry, and now like it more than ever. It is not -merely verse, but possesses the true poetic instinct and insight. - -One little song among the many particularly charms me. It is “At her -Bedside.” It ought to be set to music. Thanks, and all good wishes. - - Sincerely yours, - HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -RELIGIOUS CHANGES. - -1881-1884. - - -The true poetic temperament has in it an element of religion; for -religion and poetry both deal with the spiritual interpretation of -life, and one who possesses the temperament for either is conscious -of the vastness overshadowing common things, and sees the infinite -meaning of the apparent finiteness of the visible world. The delicate -perception of truth which is a distinctive quality of the poet often -leads to the deep appreciation of the spirit in and through nature, and -enables one to feel and know God. - -Lucy Larcom possessed the poetic temperament, with this strong -element of religion. She was pre-eminently religious, in the sense -of possessing a spiritual power, dealing continually with spiritual -things. She began early to interpret life in the light of divine truth; -and truth made real in human character she considered the one thing -worth striving for. - -Her relations to organized Christianity are particularly interesting. -Doubtless the history of her connection with the churches is a type -of that of other lives numerous in our generation that have become -dissatisfied with the communions in which they have been trained, and -after a period of uncertainty and unrest have found a home in the -Episcopal Church. - -Her religious life began in a Puritan home, and in a Congregational -meeting-house. The strong ethical teaching of her fathers made a -lasting impression on her, and the dogmatic preaching of Calvinism -influenced her young life. From both she gained a love for the -simplicity of living which characterized her career, and that dearness -of conscience which she always displayed. There was also a joy to her -under the austerity of the worship, and the sternness of the theology. -The sermons suggested new thoughts, which forced themselves between -the sentences of the minister, and in this way she preached to herself -another sermon than that spoken from the pulpit. - -Her religious enthusiasm bore fruit at thirteen years of age, in church -membership, in Lowell. Not many years after this she was sorry for -the step she had taken, for the natural broadening of her mind and -the deepening of her consciousness of truth led her far away from the -doctrines she had accepted. The sermons that she heard did not seem -to satisfy her needs; she longed for spiritual nourishment, for help -on the daily path, for thoughts that had some connection with actual -temptations and doubts. Most of the discourses dealt ingeniously with -exegetical questions, or were massive arguments used to crush the -objector, or efforts to prove some metaphysical doctrine. Relating one -Sunday’s experience, which has been referred to before in her diary, -she said, “I went to meeting, expecting and needing spiritual food, -and received only burning coals and ashes. There was a sermon to prove -that Satan will be tormented for ever and ever; and the stress of the -argument was to prove the endlessness of his punishment.” - -Not only did she find a failing sympathy with the preaching and -worship, but there were doctrines she could not continue to hold. -Among these doctrines were, verbal inspiration of the Bible, which she -thought mechanical and destructive of the Spirit’s influence through -a distinctive human personality; the Atonement, as the purchase blood -of God’s favor for a fallen race; predestination, which seemed to -eliminate man’s freedom; and endless punishment, adjudged for acts in -this life, without any probation in a future state, which seemed to -her contrary to the idea of the Sonship of man. Neither did she care -for the emphasis placed on doctrine, as distinguished from life. The -central point in her theology was the truth of God’s love, and from -this, by logical sequence, came her ideas of His revelation through -nature, through human life as His gift, and through character as a -manifestation of His glory. She was a student of Maurice, who led her -along congenial paths of thought. On Sundays when she remained away -from church, she generally read a sermon of Robertson’s; and in his -powerful analyses of truth, and in his burning love for the Master, she -found continued inspiration. Her love for the person of Jesus increased -each year. She felt herself a member of the Invisible Church, being -contented with the thought that the visible churches had no claim upon -her, because of their errors. - - -TO J. G. WHITTIER. - - 627 TREMONT STREET, - BOSTON, December 25, 1881. - -MY DEAR FRIEND,--Alone in my room this evening, I feel just like -writing a Christmas letter to you, and I follow the impulse. - -This day always brings back old times and old friends to memory, but -never with sadness to me, because the one idea of the day is hope -and joy for all souls, the possibilities of infinite help, unending -progress. Whenever I enter deeply into the thought of Christ, whenever -I feel Him the one Reality inseparable from my own being, then I -feel that I have my friends safe, and that they are to be my friends -forever. To me, He is the one Divine Friend in whom human friendships -can alone be real and permanent, because He draws us into sympathy -with what is best, with what is eternal, the love of goodness, the -consciousness of God in us and around us, and the solemn gladness of a -human life into which God has entered, and where He still is. - -God with us still, the Spiritual Presence of One who is more real -than any other person can be to us, through whom indeed we receive -our personality,--this idea, so grand as at times to seem almost -impossible, grows more definite and clear to me. It is the “So I am -with you alway” of Christ. And with this idea, that of those whom we -love unseen, our friends who have disappeared from sight, becomes more -definite also. - -Sometimes I can say undoubtingly, “I _know_ I shall find them again, -where He is.” But though the light flickers and dims sometimes, what if -it does? There the light is, and every year a larger space is redeemed -from darkness. - -Oh, my dear friend! life is a gift blessed as it is awful. To think -how close we are to one another for good or evil, do what we will! We -cannot be apart from our fellow-beings; the pulses of this life we -have in common throb, upward or downward, through us forever. Death -is not to me half so solemn as life: but then death is no reality--a -circumstance of our external life only.... - - -TO THE SAME. - - 627 TREMONT STREET, - BOSTON, June 6, 1881. - -... I am steadily gaining in strength I think, and I am glad to keep -on learning to live and to work, with such limitations as years -necessarily bring. I find my life taking deeper hold of all other human -lives; I feel myself more closely and warmly one of the great human -family, every year of my life. And I feel through this the assurance -of immortality--because we are in our deepest instincts children of the -living God--because we, as sons and daughters, are united through the -Son with the Father; we share His eternity; we cannot lose Him nor one -another, nor the least spark of truth or love kindled within us from -His being. - -I am glad that I live, and that I shall die; that I shall fall asleep -to awake with all I love, with all that is permanent here, in Him. - -The forward outlook is full of good cheer; for is not He the Eternally -Good?... - - -TO FRANKLIN CARTER. - - BEVERLY, MASS., July 18, 1881. - -DEAR FRANK,--I want to write a word of congratulation to you, in your -new position. C---- told me you thought of going to Williamstown, but I -did not know it was fully decided, until I saw your address in a Boston -paper. - -It was an excellent inaugural. I felt my sympathy go out to you as I -read. I felt sure, and feel sure, that you will do good in your new -position, which surely is a most responsible one, in a time like this. -I wonder if it is really a time of greater unbelief than hitherto. -Doubt is not an unhealthy symptom; it argues the possibility of belief. -Indifference to high truth seems to me worst of all, the indifference -that comes of _too much world_, which everybody seems to get suffocated -in. - -It is a great privilege to be able to influence young men to the best -things, as you will be able to,--to make low aims seem, as they are, -unworthy of manhood. God bless you and help you! - -I have lived on, doing the little I could, during these last few years. -I have gained in health, and am always hoping to return to some steady -work; but it may not be best to do so at all. I like my freedom, and -if I can afford to keep it, I shall. I am sure it is not good for me -to live in a school. I sometimes wish I had earned or inherited money -enough not to have to think of the future, but doubtless the Lord knows -just what I need. It is not best for us all to have life made easy for -us, in that way. - -As I look back on my life, I see much reason for humility. I ought to -have done so much more and so much better. Nevertheless the future is -bright, for God is good. Sometimes it seems to me as if I were just -learning what His forgiveness means, what it is to begin every day -anew, as if there had been no unworthy past, as if there were only -His love and my desire to please Him left. But I only meant to write -a line. I go from here to spend the “hay-fever” season among the -mountains very soon. - - Always and truly yours, - LUCY LARCOM. - - -The change in Miss Larcom’s religious life came when she began to -attend the services of Trinity Church, Boston, in 1879. The preaching -of Phillips Brooks was the realization, in living words, of her own -thought. He gave utterance for her to all her broader and freer -conceptions of Christianity. She had known little of the Episcopal -Church before going to Trinity, and she had the same inherited -prejudices that many, bred like her, have, though she remembered with -pleasure St. Ann’s in Lowell, during her days of wage earning; but -the simplicity of the worship at Trinity, and the earnestness of the -preacher, touched the deepest chords in her life, and she realized that -she could be helped by them. Writing to one of her friends, who urged -upon her the claims of the Episcopal Church, she said:-- - - -... I have been very much interested in the services at Trinity Church. -Just think! two prayer-books came to me in one week! one from a friend -in New York, from whom I had not heard for a year. I do not know what -special suggestion I am to get from the fact, except that I am to -know more of the Episcopal Church. Truly I am ashamed of my ignorance -regarding it. I enjoy the services, but I think I still strongly -prefer Congregational ways. If only there were a little more sharing -of the worship on the part of the people! I don’t like to think that -the minister is doing it all up for me; but that is the way of one, -and not of the other, decidedly. I am going to be able to worship with -Episcopalians as intelligently as with others.... - - -At another time she wrote about her church connections as follows:-- - - -... I wish I could feel as you do, about the Church. I should like -to be there, but I have to look upon it from the outside as an -institution. The real church, to which I hope I belong, seems to -me to be so much broader than any one form, so inclusive of all -denominations, that I hardly think I have the right to identify myself -with any; for, by so doing, I should exclude myself absolutely from the -rest. Now I seem to myself to belong everywhere. Yet it is sometimes -lonely to feel that spiritually I have not where to lay my head. We -women crave home, a home of our own; but we must not deceive ourselves -by shutting our eyes, and making believe we are at home, when we are -not. - -However, I mean to go regularly to Trinity if I can, for the feeling -of having free seats is more comfortable than that of intruding into -people’s pews, and I go as if I had a right to the service.... - - -Her diary for 1881 and 1882 indicates the deepening of her religious -thought, and the way in which the Episcopal Church was becoming known -to her. - - -Boston, November 28, 1881. Waked by distant bells of Advent Sunday. As -a Puritan, I have known little of the Christian year, in its Church -history. It is worth while to try to enter into the spirit of all -methods of true Christian worship. I read a sermon by F. D. Maurice, -one by F. W. Robertson, and one by Phillips Brooks, all bearing upon -the idea of these Advent days. In the “Christian Year” (Keble), an -allusion is made to one of the skeptical centuries, which seems to fit -this, in its over-scientific tendencies:-- - - “An age of light, - Light without love, glares on the aching sight.” - -But under all true science,--if science is indeed knowledge,--we shall -find Christ, since Christ is the revelation of the deepest love of God. - -December 4. Have been writing Christmas verses, by request, the past -week. Thanksgiving and Christmas would blend themselves in my thoughts -as one festival. “For my body liveth by my soul, and my soul by me” -(St. Augustine). “Too little doth he love Thee, who loves anything with -thee, which he loveth not for Thee” (_Ibid._). - -December 5. Two distinct thoughts impressed by the two successive -evening services at Trinity Church:-- - -A week since,--That the controversy between skepticism and -Christianity, as carried on quite recently among us, does not touch the -real point in question, which is whether Christ, the Son of God, has -come into the world, and has changed it, and is changing it for the -better: not whether certain statements of the Hebrew Scriptures can be -verified as facts, but whether there is a living Christ. - -And last evening,--That the motive of the Christian life, the true -reason why we should become Christians, and live as Christians, is that -other men may receive the blessing; that it may widen on, through us, -into unknown ages. It was a carrying out of St. Paul’s thought, spoken -to the Ephesians, about the Gentile world and the “ages to come.” It -is the grandeur of Christianity that it will not permit us to shut -ourselves up in our own personal or local interests,--that it belongs -to the whole race, and unites us to every human heart. - -A note from Mrs. Garfield this morning. Though so nearly a stranger, -she lets me in, a little way, to the sacred seclusion of her -sorrow,--“this valley and this shadow,” as she calls it. She cannot -see why the blow had to fall upon her,--nor can we see why the country -needed it. The blasphemous conceit of the assassin, who claims to have -been inspired by the Deity, makes it all the more perplexing. - -One good thing ought to come of this trial,--that we should all of us -try to know clearly what we mean, when we claim close relations with -the Divine Being. Too many, perhaps all of us, sometimes, use His name -insanely, and therefore irreverently, in our thoughts, and to cloak our -errors to ourselves. - -Begin this morning Max Müller’s “Science of Religion,” which I have -never yet thoroughly read. - -January 1, 1882. Heard the midnight toll of the passing Old Year at -Trinity Church last night. It was good to be there, and to come out -into the clear starlight and moonlight of the New Year, with the great -company that had reverently gathered in the church to watch the coming -in of 1882,--another Year of Our Lord. Rev. Mr. ----’s sermon was -appropriate, but that old, sad, haunting thought seemed to me to be too -painfully impressed,--that, whatever we do, the scars of our past sins -eternally remain,--that the losses caused by our wrong-doing can never -be made up. Is it the true reading of God’s forgiveness in Christ? Is -not the uplifting power of the new love with which His Spirit floods -our life, something nobler than we should have known, except for the -pain, and the wounding, and the loss that came of sin? For the evil -that has come to others through us, may not a flood of good out of the -heart of our loving Christ overflow all, and lift them, with us, to a -higher stratum of life?--I must believe it--that righteousness in human -souls will obliterate the past evil. If it is to be remembered no more, -it must not _be_ there,--or some better thing must have come in its -place. We cannot tell how far God’s love may extend, what miracles it -works. The chapter about the New Jerusalem coming down from God out of -heaven, was read as the year was passing, and Mr. Brooks made that the -point of his remarks,--that the coming year might be the New Jerusalem -to us. In that light all darkness may surely be forgotten. - -January 6, Epiphany. Went to the Church service. The thought that -Christ truly came to us, to all the world, through His birth at -Bethlehem, and the joy of His coming, is a blessing that everybody may -share, and that it is more truly a blessing because it is to be shared, -was chiefly dwelt upon. It struck me as a new thought, that the Wise -Men from the East represented all the science, all the intellectual -treasure of all time, which are truly given to humanity only when laid -at the feet of Christ. The preacher did not express that idea, but it -passed through my mind as I listened. Every gift we have, every work we -do, only becomes a real, living, worthy thing, when given to Christ to -be inspired with His life. If the scientific research of this age could -but see the star hanging over the place where the Young Child lies, and -find its true illumination in Him! - -January 7. Miss H---- called, full of enthusiasm over what she believes -herself to have done by healing the sick, through the power of prayer. -I must believe that what she says is true,--and yet I question. Can -this be God’s way? Not impossible--but I have never been able to see -that any prayer for definite physical results was so good as that which -asks to be brought into harmony with the will of God, so that we shall -accept any condition which He sees best for us. Yet--what does the -“gift of healing” mean--if not that He permits health to flow through -one life into another? My little crippled friend, E----, does not feel -sure that she ought to ask God to make her well and strong, like other -girls. I wish she might be, though. - -January 8. Miss E. H. called. Our talk always gets back to the one -subject,--Christ in human life. She cannot see that He is more than -the best of all human helpers, and yet she has flashes of higher truth -sometimes. I think she wishes for a definite intellectual idea of the -Christ, for she said to me, “You make it wholly spiritual,”--and so -the conception of him, in the human soul, must be, it seems to me. She -said, “I think of what He was,” and I think of Him, that He is, and -there we parted. - -It is to me like the sunlight: clear, penetrating, inspiring, the idea -of Christ who is, was, and is to be, the Eternal Son of the Father, -the presence of God in humanity, as the friend of every soul,--the -uniting link between the human and the divine. I feel my own personal -immortality in following this truth whithersoever it may lead,--deeper, -ever deeper, into the Heart of God, as I earnestly believe. - -At church the subject was the power behind all human efforts, which -makes them worth anything. The planter and the waterer are nothing, -except as means bringing the seed to growth, which must first be alive, -a force in itself, which he who tends cannot produce or understand. The -power of God behind all worthy human efforts, that we are tools in -the Master’s hand, and must refer every good result to Him, were the -inferences. - -Who can explain moods? A strange depression has been over me to-day, as -of some impending danger to some life near to mine. I shook it off in -going out, but I found myself imagining the saddest thing that could -possibly happen to me or my friends, or the country, or the world. I do -not think I dread any one thing for myself, yet the removal of some of -my friends would leave life very lonely. - -January 16. Yesterday I was much instructed and helped by reading one -or two of Maurice’s sermons. The thought that forgiveness means the -putting away of sins is not often emphasized as he does it,--“Power _on -earth_ to forgive sins;” that here one can lay down the burden, and go -on fighting the enemy with a sure hope of conquest, because of that -divine life and strength that comes through a present Christ;--this -is release indeed. Not that we shall be forgiven, but that we are -forgiven, if we turn to the truth in the love of it. - -And the thought of the Communion service as a marriage-supper, a token -that our lives are reunited to the divine life, came to me with new -force. - -Mr. Brooks preached about heaven, in the afternoon; that it must be the -continuance of life,--of the highest and deepest we know here. There -always will be for us, God, and the “charity” which means love. He -spoke from chapter xiii., I. Corinthians: “For now we see through a -glass darkly,”--carrying out the image of life blurred and distorted -often to us here, made clear there, where only true things can remain. -Keble says, for yesterday, that we may-- - - “Through the world’s sad day of strife - Still chant his morning song.” - -And why should not the music of heaven be the continuing of what is -the true harmony of earth? It must be. The sermon yesterday referred -especially to the death of two ministers in the Church the past week, -Dr. Stone and John Cotton Smith. - -January 23. Remarks at table, where surely people talk very freely. One -lady says that she has never for an hour been glad that she was born. -I can scarcely think of such a thing as possible, because it is God’s -world, and if we have any real glimpse of Him we must know that there -is a divine purpose in our being here, even if we do not have the “good -time” in life that we think we deserve. But it may be an inherited -morbid feeling, it may be an affectation,--it may be several things. - -Another lady states her Unitarian position that “Christ was human, we -know,--he must also have been more than human, else he could not help -us, therefore he was divine; but he could not have been wholly divine, -else he could not have been an example for us.” The last assertion is -to me untrue. He must be able to help us more, because He is one with -the Father, nor is He less our example, but more. He never gave a lower -standard than this,--“Be ye perfect, even as your Father in heaven is -perfect.” He surely made God our only example of goodness, to learn and -to follow. And we know that we are made in the image of God, because we -cannot in our best moments accept any standard but this,--of perfection -to be sought after through eternity; the grandeur of our being is that -there will always be something beyond for us to seek. - -Reading “Ecce Homo” for the first time, with a view to studying the -“Life of Christ” with a friend. - -February 6. Reading Renan’s “Life of Jesus.” In the introduction, his -objections to the fourth Gospel seem to me to arise from some lack of -perception in himself. I cannot find in it the “pretentious, heavy, -badly written tirades” to which he alludes. Nor does it seem to me -anything against the book that it was written from memory, long after -the death of Christ. To apply to so close a friendship as that between -Jesus and John the passage, “Our memories are transformed with all -the rest; the idea of a person whom we have known changes with us,” -seems to me a wholly unsatisfactory and unappreciative way of putting -it. If friends, and such friends, do not remember each other as they -really are, we lose the idea of personal identity altogether. Yet Renan -seems to think that John did write the fourth Gospel, and from the -same close kind of intimacy as that which existed between Socrates and -Plato. We surely reach the heart of Christ most closely through the -words of the beloved disciple,--the stories clustering around the birth -of Christ, which Renan dismisses as “legendary,” seem to be so simply -on his assertion. Were they so, the character of Jesus, Son of God and -Son of Man, remains itself divinely alone in the world’s history. But -I cannot see more miracle in the beginning than all the way through. -Nor does it seem to me that it would have been more sacrilegious for -Him to say “I am God,” which he never did in words affirm, Renan says, -than to say, as He did, “I and my Father are one;” “He that hath seen -me hath seen the Father.” He spoke as the Son of Man, referring also -always to His Father, claiming to be, in the closest sense, the Son of -God. As a man, He must refer to the God beyond Him, else He could not -have made Himself understood by men. For myself, I cannot think of God -at all, except as having eternally this human side, by which we human -beings, His children, may know Him. There is no unity in the idea of -Him without this complexity, which shows Him as Father, Son, and Spirit. - -Yet Christ’s human life was perfectly human, wholly so; and the -picturesque beauty of that life, the lovely scenery of Nazareth, and -his wayfaring company of disciples, plain countrymen, group themselves -very attractively on Renan’s page. The book fascinates; it seems -always based upon a beautiful, yet most inadequate, conception. - -February 20. Many things to remember these last weeks: Mr. Whittier’s -visit, and my almost daily glimpses of him, and talks with him,--a -friendship that grows more satisfactory as the years deepen life. -Separateness of life makes communion of thought almost truer and more -inspiring than when people live near each other, and frequently meet. -I have more admiration and reverence for such a man, from having found -a higher standard in life for myself from which to look across and up -to him. I think everybody who has largeness of character like his needs -perspective; juxtaposition is not acquaintance. - -April 27. The weeks pass too busily for record; also I have not -been well. Read with Miss H---- Maurice’s “Gospel of the Kingdom,” -Fairbairn’s “Studies in the Life of Christ,” Neander, “Life of Christ;” -and came to Maurice’s “Lectures on the Gospel of St. John,” which is -left for future study.... A clearer light has come, and yet the sadness -of not living wholly in the light: the bitterness of error and failure! - -I will not be morbid; I know that there is always a better self than -myself, waiting to be set free. But the riddles of life are perplexing. -Who are we? What are we struggling for? - -I think Maurice one of the most illuminating writers I ever knew. He -looks into a truth, and you see what he sees, if you see anything. - -This stirring up of theological questions at Andover is a phenomenon -of the time; a movement towards a simpler holding of truth, and let us -trust a greater honesty in us all in our statements of belief. Opinions -change, but faith lives in the heart of the truth, not in its outward -expression. I wish some formulas could be laid aside, and that we could -come into a real unity of faith. - -May 26. Closing days of a lovely visit at Melrose, at the house of two -of the most delightful people,--a true home. - -The woods close the house in around my window, and the birds sing -close by. A squirrel has fearlessly come in to visit me once or twice; -a flying squirrel, they say it is. The people I am with show me how -beautiful it is to live truth, justice, and sympathy. They belong to no -Church, but their lives are most beautifully harmonized with the spirit -of Him who was, and is, the expression of God’s love to man. When with -them I almost feel as if it were better not to profess religion in -churches,--this living testimony is so far beyond what most Christians -can show; but then I remember that it is because God in Christ is -in the world, because the divinity has revealed itself in humanity, -that they are what they are. How else have truth, honor, tenderness, -and unselfishness, been kept alive in the human hearts, but by that -revelation of the one life as the divine standard? And if the churches -were all forsaken now, we should see a sad falling off from among us -of such people as these, for most of us need constant reminders that -we are the children of God. We need the Word, the coming together, the -loving, uniting memories of Him who is our life. - -Longfellow and Emerson gone from us before the opening of spring! It is -strange to think of New England without them. But they are part of its -life, forever.... - - -Though Miss Larcom was progressing in her knowledge of the Episcopal -Church, she felt no nearer an entrance into that body. She was willing -to enjoy the services at Trinity Church, but she did not want Mr. -Brooks to think, because of her constant attendance, she had any -thoughts of confirmation. So in 1884 she wrote him a letter, stating -her position, which he most cordially accepted, writing her in reply -what he considered the advantages of her attitude. - - - 233 CLARENDON STREET, BOSTON, March 20, 1884. - -MY DEAR MISS LARCOM,--My delay in answering your letter does not mean -that I was not deeply interested in it, and very glad to get it. It -only means that I have been too busy to write calmly about anything, -and even now I write mainly to say how glad I shall be if some time or -other we can quietly talk over what you have written. For the present, -however, let me only say, that I accept most cordially the position -which you describe for yourself. I am content that our Church should -be a helpful friend to one who has been living among quite different -associations, and who does not think it best to come into closer -personal connection with her. If God means that there should ever be -a closer association of life between you and the Episcopal Church, He -will make it plain in due time. It is not bad, perhaps, that among the -special connections with particular bodies of Christians which come in -our lives, there should be one period in which, from the very breaking -of our associations with the bodies of Christians, we are able to -realize more directly our relation to the body of Christ. Perhaps this -is such a time for you. If it is, and whether it is or not, may you -find more and more of His light and help, and if anything that I can -do, or that Trinity Church can do, is ever a source of happiness or -strength to you, I know that you will be sure that I am very glad. With -kindest wishes, always, - - I am yours most sincerely, - PHILLIPS BROOKS. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -UNDERCURRENTS. - -1884-1889. - - -TO MISS S. H. WARD. - - January 1, 1884. - -DEAR SUSIE WARD,--Something has just brought you to mind; I saw your -address in print in an almanac, and I felt like sending a New Year’s -greeting to the schoolgirl I knew--_was_ it thirty years ago? - -I am very fond of those dear girls of mine, though I seldom see them, -and would like to send a New Year’s greeting to them all. - - Ever your friend, - LUCY LARCOM. - - -TO THE SAME. - - BEVERLY, MASS., January 15, 1884. - -MY DEAR SUSIE,--It is so pleasant to take up the threads of an old -friendship again! It always reassures me of the hereafter of souls, -that even here after long intervals, we find ourselves still at home -with those who had slipped away from us apparently. They are really -still in their place, and we are sure of them and know where to find -them. - -I have had many changes since we were much together, but life is the -same good gift of the Lord I always knew it to be, only more wonderful -as one gets deeper into it. - - Always yours, - LUCY LARCOM. - - -TO J. G. WHITTIER. - - WOLFVILLE, NOVA SCOTIA, - August 21, 1884. - -MY DEAR FRIEND,--I am moved to write to you from here, where I sit -looking out upon the Basin of Minas, and Grand Pré itself, the mud -of which latter I have been trying to remove from my dress, though I -suppose I ought to let it stay spattered with poetic associations! - -Yesterday we were taken to drive through the Valley of the Gaspereau, -a lovely region, under perfect cultivation,--and so on, over the old -dikes of Grand Pré, where we stood upon the site of the old church, and -saw the cellar of what was supposed to be the priest’s house, close by -the church. - -The people here think they know where Evangeline’s father lived, and -just where Basil the blacksmith had his forge,--so mixed are our -illusions with our historic certainties! I find myself believing in -Evangeline as a real maiden, one who once lived and suffered on this -very soil, and I gathered a daisy and a wild rose for you, which her -hand might have plucked, instead of mine, as a memorial of her lost -home. - -Miss J---- and I are stopping at the village doctor’s. Mrs. Fitch, who -keeps his house, takes a very few boarders. His orchard is loaded with -apples and pears, and his garden opens out on the meadow close upon the -first dike built by the French Acadians. We are finding the hottest -weather of the season, and are glad not to be in any city just now. - -We had a pleasant sail to Halifax--the sea as smooth as glass, and so -no excuse for sickness. I had friends in Halifax, who took us to the -citadel and the park, the latter the finest I ever saw, because left -chiefly to nature: just woods of pine and spruce, overlooking the -harbor, which I can well believe to be what the Nova Scotians claim for -it--the most beautiful harbor in the world. - -We go the last of the week to Annapolis and Digby, and home by the way -of Mt. Desert, which I have never visited. - -I go from there to Bethel, to spend September,--read my proof--and -escape hay-fever--(as I hope!). - -You are often spoken of here, and by those who wish you would visit -the place. The journey is a long one, and I suppose, as I tell them, -that you would not feel like taking it. But there is a charm about the -people and the region which can only be felt by being here,--everybody -seems very intelligent, and very hospitable,--no extreme poverty -anywhere, that I can see. - - Thine always, - LUCY LARCOM. - - -TO PHILLIPS BROOKS. - - 12 CONCORD SQUARE, March 26, 1885. - -DEAR MR. BROOKS,--I called at the chapel yesterday afternoon, but -others were waiting to see you, and it was getting late in the day, so -I did not stay. I had, indeed, no good excuse for taking your time; but -it would have been a great pleasure to speak to you, after my winter’s -imprisonment with illness. - -It is only within a week or two that I have come to Boston, or been -out to church at all. I have enjoyed, almost to pain, the few services -I have attended, for I am not sure that I hold myself in the right -manner towards God’s people, with whom I so fully sympathize in spirit. -I wonder if I really am in the Church! My childish consecration was -sincere; I entered the communion of the sect in which I was baptized -and brought up, from an earnest longing to come nearer to Christ,--a -desire which has grown with me through all the years; only now it -reaches out beyond all names and groupings, towards the whole Communion -of Saints in Him. Nothing less than this is the real Church to me. Some -narrowness I find in every denomination, and this distresses and repels -me, so that I cannot tell where I belong. Yet when I go to Trinity -Church, I feel myself taken possession of, borne upward on the tide of -loving loyalty to Christ; and I know that it has not been well for me -to live apart from my kindred. - -I wish I could find myself among the group who consecrate themselves -to-night: but, as you once said to me, if that were the way for me, it -would be made plain. And I shall consider Trinity as home, whenever I -am in Boston. - -I did have one little request to make,--it was liberty to use some -paragraphs from your printed sermons in a compilation which I may -prepare this year. I shall take it that I have permission, unless -forbidden. - - Faithfully yours, - LUCY LARCOM. - - -TO ---- - - December 3, 1885. - -I heard Canon Farrar preach and lecture. He is not remarkable, it seems -to me, except for his moral and spiritual earnestness, but that is -remarkable, as men go. I liked his lecture, for it will help to foster -a good feeling between us two brother nations of the English race. -England and America ought to feel themselves one.... - - -When the summer came, Miss Larcom always looked forward with pleasure -to her mountain-homes, of which she had a number, in New Hampshire -and Maine. The hills gave her rest; and the beauty of the views, with -the grand distances, suggesting freedom and the thought of being -above the common level, gave her inspiration for her work. Each year -she tried to visit the various points she loved--Ossipee Park, The -Notch, Bethlehem, Moosilauke, Bethel, Centre Harbor, and Berlin Falls. -Bethel fascinated her with its sight of the Androscoggin and its -majestic elms, and the view of Mt. Moriah and some of the Presidential -Range,--Madison, Adams, and Washington. At Mr. John Russell’s Riverside -Cottage she was always welcome; and back of the house, on the crest of -the mountain, was a little glen, shaded by evergreens, in which she -used to sit and read, called “Miss Larcom’s Retreat.” Sitting on the -low bench, in this nook, she wrote the poem “On the Ledge:”-- - - “Here is shelter and outlook, deep rest and wide room; - The pine woods behind, breathing balm out of gloom; - Before, the great hills over vast levels lean,-- - A glory of purple, a splendor of green. - As a new earth and heaven, ye are mine once again, - Ye beautiful meadows and mountains of Maine.” - -She always enjoyed Ossipee Park, with its wonderful brook, “set in the -freshness of perfect green,” and watched it widen into pools and leap -into cascades. She wrote of it, “Ah! this is the sort of retreat for -friends who like to meet or separate within the sound of a voice which -surely wins them together again side by side.” - -Bethlehem, besides giving her freedom from hay-fever, was always “the -beautiful.” Moosilauke was her favorite summit. From these places she -generally wrote charming letters to the Portland “Transcript,” which -its readers will remember, and others may judge of by the following -from Wood-Giant’s Hill, Centre Harbor. - -“There is a peculiar charm in New Hampshire hill scenery just at -this season, before the roses have faded, or the hay is mown, or the -bobolinks have ceased singing among the clover blossoms, and while -the midsummer-tide is rolling up over all, and blending all in haze -and heat,--a mingling of freshness and ripeness that is indescribably -lovely. One should surely be among the hills before the Fourth of July, -to catch the best of their beauty, as well as to escape the dust and -distractions of the patriotic anniversary. - -“To sit at a western window and look off upon the Beulah-like -landscape, slope upon slope of rolling, forest-crowned hills ascending -towards bluer heights which lose themselves among dim lines of -half-revealed higher horizons--to feel the air sweeping across from -the softly-blended infinite spaces, over pine woods and fields in full -flower--to breathe it all in like the odor of some divine nectar--is -there anything like it in the whole year, except at the meeting point -of June and July, and in such a region as this. For we know that there -are lakes all around us, sleeping unseen in the midsummer haze, and -we know that the invisible mountains lie just beyond those lovely -ascending distances before us. - -“And so, when a sweeter waft of coolness refreshes every sense, and we -ask with wonder what makes it so sweet, the answer seems borne onward -with its very breath:-- - - “‘The gale informs us, laden with the scent.’ - -“It brings us the spice of pine woods and the clear drip of ice-cold -waterfalls; the breath of pond lilies and sweet-brier and unmown -scented grasses, clover-tops and mountain-tops, blended in one draught; -and that delicate bubble of song which rises from the meadows, the -faint farewell chorus of summer birds that seem loth to go, makes the -full cup overflow with musical foam. - -“I saw the sun drop last evening--its magnified reflection, -rather--into the larger Lake Asquam, like a ball of crimson flame. The -sun itself went down, hot and red, into a band of warm mist that hung -over the hills. The ‘Wood Giant’ stood above me audibly musing. His -twilight thoughts were untranslatable, but perhaps the wood-thrushes -understood, for they sent up their mystical chant from the thickets -below, in deep harmony with the music of his boughs. - -“The higher summits have not unveiled themselves yet, not even -Cardigan or Mount Israel. Steaming across the lake from Wolfboro’ -three sunsets since, it seemed to me that there was a compensation in -this invisibility of the loftier hills. Only Red Hill and the Ossipee -Range were to be seen; and they loomed up in huge grandeur, asserting -themselves to be, as they are, the dominant guardians of Winnipiseogee. -It is seldom that the Beautiful Lake loses them from sight.” - - -TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING. - - CENTRE HARBOR, N. H., October 7, 1855. - -... I have had my “outing” at Bethlehem; I went there hardly able to -sit up during the journey, but gained strength at once, and am well now. - -I stayed there more than four weeks, and enjoyed it much. Mr. Howells -and family were at the next house, and I saw them several times. -Bethlehem is a very public place. I found a good deal of calling and -visiting going on. But the house life was delightful. - -I spent last week at Ossipee Park, the loveliest spot in New England, I -think. - -I am here for a week or more, at the place where Mr. Whittier was -in the summer. Mrs. Sturtevant is an old friend of mine, and her -housekeeping leaves nothing to be desired. You would like the place -and it is easily accessible,--only a mile back of Centre Harbor. Mr. -Whittier’s poem, “The Wood Giant,” was written here. You can see the -tree above others, ten miles across the lake, at Ossipee Park--it is -down in the pasture, a little way from this house, looking towards -sunset over the lake.... - - -TO J. G. WHITTIER. - - HOTEL BYRON, - BOSTON, April 23, 1886. - -MY DEAR FRIEND,--I have been in and about Boston for the past three -weeks, and of late have been interested in this new study of -Theosophy, which so many are looking into. I have wondered how you -regard it. - -What I most enjoy about it is the larger horizons it opens upon our -true spiritual sight,--glimpses only, it is true,--but we could not -bear more than that, doubtless. And the moral and spiritual truth it -unfolds and inculcates is of the loftiest. It harmonizes so entirely -with the highest Christianity, no believer in that can find cause for -cavil. And yet, it is far behind the spirit of Christianity, as we have -it from the Divine Teacher’s lips and life; in that the common mind is -shut out from a clear comprehension of its meaning. “The simplicity -that is in Christ” is the true gospel, whatever wisdom beside this may -be given to sages and seekers. The gospel for the poor and the ignorant -is the gospel for us all. - -And I suppose those that go farthest into these other deep secrets are -the humblest. Spiritual pride is indeed pronounced the greatest of all -sins by these, and by Christian souls. - -But how beautiful it is to know that truth is one, and that life is -one, and that all over the world, and through all the ages, men are -entering into and sharing the great inheritance! - -I may find much that I cannot accept, but what of that, if I am brought -nearer to the heart of humanity, in its fraternal aspirations towards -the Father of our spirits! - - Faithfully thy friend, LUCY LARCOM. - - - 233 CLARENDON STREET, - BOSTON, December 28, 1886. - -DEAR MISS LARCOM,--I cannot let your kind note pass without at least -a word of gratitude and welcome. It is good to know that you are in -Boston again, and that I may sometimes speak to you on Sundays. I -should be sorry indeed to think that the winter would pass without -letting me, somewhere, sometime, come to more familiar friendly talk -with you. You will find me the chance, I hope, either by coming here, -or letting me know where I may come to you. - -At any rate, I am glad that you are here, and I send you my best New -Year’s wishes. - -I do not want you to think that I am aspiring to poetry. “The Little -Town of Bethlehem” was written more than twenty years ago, for a -Christmas service of my Sunday school in Philadelphia. It has been -printed in hymn-books since, and sung at a good many Christmases, and -where the newspapers find it, all of a sudden, I do not know! - - Ever faithfully your friend, - PHILLIPS BROOKS. - - -It has been stated that Miss Larcom was barely able to support herself -by her writings. She realized, like many another author, that Mr. -Whittier’s words were true when he wrote her that “the hardest way of -earning bread and butter in this world is to coin one’s brains, as an -author, into cash, or spin them into greenbacks.” She could, however, -do very well, so long as her health was good. In addition to the -copyright on her books, she received payment from the magazines for her -work,--“St. Nicholas” sometimes gave her fifty dollars for an article. -“Harper’s” and the “Independent” paid her the same rates as they -did to “H. H.” She also contributed to “Wide Awake,” the “Christian -Union,” the “Congregationalist,” and to many minor papers, like the -“Cottage Hearth.” But she was subject to severe attacks of illness, -which rendered her, for the time, incapable of writing. Then it was -that her friends came forward to aid her; any assistance, however, she -was loth to accept. This unwillingness to receive help gave rise to an -interesting scene between herself and Mr. Whittier. At one time, her -strength and resources had been reduced by illness. She was lying upon -her couch when Mr. Whittier came, and, seating himself beside her, -said, “Now, Lucy, this is altogether too bad.” - -“What is too bad?” - -“Why, that thee should work for the world all thy days, and then lie -here, worrying about expenses.” - -“I don’t worry. The Lord has always taken care of me.” - -“But, Lucy, thee ought to worry. The Lord has made thee capable of -caring for thyself. Why not be more practicable? I have done something -about this.” - -“I knew you had, as soon as this talk began. Now, I thank you, but I -will not touch one cent of the money you collect.” - -“Don’t be foolish. Thee will; and thee must not waste thy remaining -strength in rebellion.” - -A compromise was made by her taking a pension of a hundred dollars -a year, from a Quaker Home, in Philadelphia, and a few annual -subscriptions--one from Mr. George W. Childs. - - -TO J. G. WHITTIER. - - HOTEL BYRON, BERKELEY ST., - BOSTON, MASS., February 4, 1887. - -MY DEAR FRIEND,--I have been away two days, and on returning, find thy -note and the enclosed check for one hundred dollars. A greater surprise -could not have awaited me. - -And, curiously enough, I had been amusing myself just before, with the -thought of the great fortunes rolling about the world, without ever so -much as touching me! And I had said to myself that the Great Disposer -of all these things, who is also my Father, doubtless had a purpose in -it,--perhaps that I was to prove to the very end that life could be -very cheerful and comfortable without much money, and with unremitting -effort to earn a moderate living, so long as my strength should hold -out. - -And I felt like acquiescing gratefully, happy in my restored health, -in my interest in my work, and in doing and being all that it is in me -to do and to be for others,--for life does look every day larger and -deeper and more beautiful in its possibilities, even this one small -life of mine, in this world of God’s. I think I was rather in danger of -looking down on the millionaires, and pitying them for their heavier -burdens of responsibility. - -I always feel rich when I feel well, and I was not conscious of a -present want, although I knew my purse was getting light, and I was not -sure whether I could afford to stay in Boston through the winter, but -now I see that I can, for I shall take your advice, and keep the check. - -I suppose I should never have consented to have my name used, as one -who needed assistance, but I have great confidence in your wisdom, -and if you thought it right, I could not object. But you know that I -have never suffered from want, and that I am able to work, although -three-score. - -The only wish I have ever had in connection with money, is for the -freedom it might give me to choose my work, and the place where I -should live. When I can do that, I don’t know that I shall have any -further desire, for myself. And if I really need that, God will give it -to me. - -If Mr. Childs has really sent the money to _me_, I must thank him for -it, and I will do so, if you will kindly send me his address. You see -how ignorant I am about our good rich people, when I don’t know whether -to address him as “Mr.” or “Esq.” or write with Quaker plainness! You -said, “Philadelphia.” Is that enough, without street or number? - -I thank thee sincerely for all the kind thoughts that this matter -implies on thy part. And I feel more and more assured that the silver -and the gold belong to God, and that He spends it where He will. If He -puts it into Mr. Childs’ hand for me, I will not refuse it--not from -any good man’s hand. Only please remember that thee must not let people -think I am poor, when I am not. Shall we not see thee before long? - - Gratefully yours, - LUCY LARCOM. - - -One of Miss Larcom’s greatest pleasures was the visits she was able to -make to her congenial friends. Not being tied by family cares, it was -possible for her to accept some of the many invitations she constantly -received from those who loved her. Her presence in a household was -like a peaceful influence, for she had the delightful gift of being an -agreeable guest. Always sympathetic, never intruding into the privacy -of family matters, reticent about her troubles, and eager to impart -her joys, with a fund of humor always at hand, she made a charming -companion; and her visit was always remembered as an event in the year. -There are many homes that have had the privilege of entertaining her, -and receiving something from the close contact with her personality. -One of her hostesses, Mrs. James Guild, of Roxbury, in whose house -she used to enjoy hours of Plato study, and where the last few years -of her life she found rest, says, “In passing the library, I often -looked through the portières, to behold the presence in the room,--the -white, peaceful face, that seemed to wear a halo. She would have three -or four books at once on her knee, and look up smiling to ask, ‘Am I -not greedy? I don’t know which of these to read first! I do love books, -but not better than friends; when you are at leisure, I am ready to sit -with you.’” - - -TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING. - - WILLIAMSTOWN, MASS., October 10, 1887. - -... I came here, through Lake George and Saratoga, last Friday. I am -visiting at President Carter’s, my old friend, who has a charming -family and home. The town itself is most beautiful, and I have been -driving about among the Berkshire Hills, finding them no less enjoyable -for what I have seen of the Adirondacks. - -President Carter is at present away on business. A case of possible -hazing is one of the most trying--the facts are so hard to get at. The -spirit of this college is entirely opposed to such things. He is also -a corporate member of the American Board. I do not sympathize with the -turn affairs have taken. It looks to me like a long step backward. It -cannot be that a disputed theological point is to settle the world’s -salvation. And the inquisitorial spirit tends so entirely to bitterness -and harsh judgment; it proves itself foreign to the spirit of Christ. - -May God reveal himself to these benighted theologians! - - -TO J. G. WHITTIER. - - BEVERLY, MASS., April 24, 1888. - -MY DEAR FRIEND,--Yesterday I returned to Beverly, having done something -quite uncommon, for me,--taken a trip to the Jerseys. I went on urgent -invitation from old pupils and school-friends at Wheaton Seminary, who -gave a breakfast at Hotel Brunswick, New York. - -I met a good many people I was glad to see, and made most of my visit -at Mr. Ward’s, of the “Independent.” His sister, who keeps house for -him, at Newark, is a former pupil of mine. - -Then I had an invitation from a schoolmate at Monticello, Illinois, who -lives at Orange, New Jersey, and I stayed there several days. I went -over New York and Brooklyn by the bridge and the elevated railway, but -scarcely touched the metropolis. - -However, I saw my old friends, and a good many new people, and had a -pleasant time. - -And now, I am urgently invited to my old Illinois seminary, in June, -when it has its semi-centennial anniversary. I am afraid I shall have -to go, as my Minnesota sister seconds the motion, and she expects to -move to California, another year. - -What a moving world it is!... - - -The “New England Girlhood,” published in 1889, was at once a success. -Few facts of Miss Larcom’s life had been generally known up to this -time: there had been, however, interesting biographical sketches -printed from time to time, notably Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney’s sketch, -in “American Women of Note,” and her own article, in the “Atlantic -Monthly,” with the title “Among Lowell Mill-Girls.” But in this book -she took her friends into her confidence, and showed such genuineness -of feeling, and love for her modest beginnings in the old town of -Beverly, with its lanes, its woods, and its seacoast, that her -description stirred up the memory of similar days in the thought of -New England people, at home, and in distant parts of the country. This -account of her youth contains the best elements of her thought and -life, in a story, charming for its simplicity and truthful portraiture -of New England homes before any of the modern changes had taken -place,--those changes that introduced stoves and shut up the great -fireplaces, that substituted for the stage-coach the horse and electric -car, put clocks on the mantelpiece, and relegated to the junk-shops the -“tin kitchens” and the three-legged “trivet.” Its homely incident and -the sincerity of its religious sentiment render it an excellent book -to put into the hands of young girls; by reading it they are brought -into connection with the refined and vigorous girlhood of an actual -life. One critic remarked, “If there could be more biography like this, -there would be less call for fiction.” Miss Larcom received numerous -letters of thanks for having written the book. A gentleman sent her a -check, as an evidence of his satisfaction. An aged man wrote,--“If -it was written for the young, it certainly was for the old. I am now -eighty-five years old and never was more delighted.” Mr. Whittier -sent his approval: “I am reading the book for the second time, with -increased pleasure; I recall my first meeting with thee at Lowell, -after thy return from the West.” - -That she enjoyed these tokens of appreciation, this letter indicates. - - -TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING. - - 214 COLUMBUS AVENUE, - Saturday evening, December 28, 1889. - -MY DEAR FRIEND,--I have just come in and read Mrs. S----’s letter, -which I return. Her enthusiasm inspires me just as I like to be -inspired. I felt in writing the book that I was just entering into my -past life, and taking my friends with me. I did not feel that I was -making a “literary effort,” but just taking a little journey backward. - -I appreciate the readers who will simply go along with me, as Mrs. -S---- does. I am glad to give myself to those who understand the -gift, and I would like to find more in myself for them, if I could. -It is just like taking hold of hands all round, these pleasant -acknowledgments that come to me. It is _our_ life that we are enjoying -together.... - - -Mr. Brooks sent one of his short, characteristic notes, thanking her -for “A New England Girlhood.” - - - 233 CLARENDON STREET, - BOSTON, December 9, 1889. - -MY DEAR MISS LARCOM,--I have never been a Yankee girl, and yet I felt -that I recognized every picture in what I read, and I have read it all. - -To hear of the American First Class Book again was like a breeze out of -my childhood! - -And I hope all the girls are reading it, and catching the flavor of its -healthy spirit. - -At any rate, I thank you for it, and I am yours most sincerely, - - PHILLIPS BROOKS. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -MEMBERSHIP IN THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH. - - -The longing for a religious home asserted itself in Miss Larcom’s life, -and the thought came to her that she was not testifying to her deep -love for her Master, by withholding herself from active membership in -some Church of Christ. In her diary, where she wrote with great freedom -her inmost feelings, there are passages which indicate discontent with -her negative position. She was being forced to a conclusion:-- - -“I must decide for myself whether the Church is a reality to me; -whether, in the visible Church, working for it, and with it, I can be -more useful than I should be, floating on still, trying to accommodate -myself to circumstances, and to harmonize myself with the best in -everything, without any special ties. Having lived outside the Church -so long, I have a great longing for a closer sympathy and working -together with others. But whether it can be with my old Congregational -friends, I am not certain. It would be better to stay with them, -identified with their name and work, if I can do it from my heart, but -not if I am called upon to say anything that I do not believe.” - -While in this state of uncertainty, the Church was gradually making its -way into her life. She looked forward to each Sunday, with eagerness; -and the message from the day’s sermon she either put in her diary, or -conveyed, by means of letters, to her little crippled friend, Elsie -L----. - -The Church-Year, with its sacred anniversaries, became very dear to -her. In her diary, there is a record referring to Passion Week, that -shows her appreciation of these Church days: “I think it most beautiful -to keep these memorial days of the Church, whether we belong to the -Episcopal Church or any other. These are the days for all Christians to -observe.” - - -April 8, Good Friday. Passion Week has been a revelation to me of the -divine history made real. It has seemed to me as if I really followed -and faltered with the disciples, in Gethsemane, at the mock trial of -Pilate, and through the terrible scenes of the Crucifixion. It is so -much to the world, that the Church has kept up the Christian year, with -these awful and glorious anniversaries. How often their reality has -faded out, when men are left to themselves. - -I could thank the Church, almost, for having impressed them so upon her -history, that they sometimes seem _hardened_ into it! She has never -let them become mere idle tales; the life and death of Christ, held so -close to her heart, have kept her alive, through all her formalisms. - - -In the worship, the part taken by the congregation, in responsive -readings, prayers, versicles, and Litany, appealed to her. She felt -that she was not being preached at through the disguise of a prayer, -but that all--minister and people--joined in the praises to God, each -with a phrase on his lips and a meditation in his heart. The dignity -and orderly arrangement of the services, together with the use of the -stately words of the Prayer Book, made her appreciate the beautiful -formality of such devotional customs. - -Her affections were strengthened by an act which seemed to open a new -set of experiences to her. This act was the partaking of the Holy -Communion early on Easter Day, in 1887. Mr. Brooks had given notice, -inviting to the Lord’s Supper any persons who might desire to come, -though they belonged to some other branch of the Church of Christ. -A friend of Miss Larcom urged her to accept the invitation. The -generosity of it fascinated her; the thought of all who loved Jesus, -loving Him perhaps in different ways, meeting around the Father’s -table, was in thorough accord with her own feelings. Going to the -service, and taking her place at the altar rail, she received the -bread and wine administered in the reverent manner of the Episcopal -Church. This one act, in the early morning of Easter day, revealed -to her the spiritual meaning of the worship, and seemed to bring her -in closest touch with the Master; and afterwards the Church became a -different place to her; she was becoming one with it, though she yet -had no right to call herself a member. Referring to this Communion, she -said, “How free the Lord’s table ought to be! and how beautiful it was -at that early Communion; the church fragrant and fresh, and glowing -with flowers! It seemed like meeting Christ with Mary in the Garden, -just as he had risen from the Grave! I do think the Communion service -of the church most inreaching and uplifting in its earnestness, its -simplicity, its spirituality.” - -“As I remember this service in the Congregational church, that method -seems almost formal in comparison with this. Perhaps there is something -in the very movement required,--the person going forward to the table -to share the bread and wine, each with the rest, yet each of us -receiving them directly from Christ--His own life, to be transfused -into ours. There is certainly a clearer meaning in it all to me, -whenever I join in the service at Trinity Church. - -“The crowd in the church afterwards, who came to the later services and -sermon, was also most impressive, filling in even every smallest space -in the chancel, among the flowers. The sermon was strong and deep, -impressing the thought that life is the one reality, and death and -sorrow and sin only partial experiences. Life the ocean, and all these -things but ripples on the surface. - -“The last thought for the day,--in the evening,--was that injustice -never does triumph, however it may seem.” - - -April 22. Emeline’s birthday,--the dearest of my sisters--more than a -mother to me--now three-score and ten. But I live my child-life over -again with her, and our two lives make a glad harmony all through. -How much shall we keep of ourselves and our human relations, forever? -All that has been real, surely. And so we are mature women and little -children together, at once, in the immortal life. - -The past week has been one of rather unpleasant experiences, in some -ways. The Beverly Farms bribery investigation at the State House has -occupied me. Whether bribery or not, great injustice is attempted on my -native town, which I love and will defend, so long as I know her to be -unmistakably in the right, as she is now. - -I have done the little I could, so far; have written for the -newspapers,--have sent a letter of request for veto to the -governor,--and joined the women of Beverly in a petition to him, to the -same effect, and I shall hold myself ready to do more, if needed. But -I do trust that our legislature will, of themselves, make the matter -right. - -April 25. Spring is in the air, even in Boston, although just a week -ago to-day we had one of the worst snowstorms of the season. - -Yesterday’s experience is something not to be forgotten, though -unrecordable. There are no words to repeat the spirit’s story, when -it is taken possession of by the highest influences, and lifted up -into the heaven of aspiration and consecration; when the way is open -through sympathy with human souls, and with the Eternal Son, into the -Father’s heart. - -How easy the spiritual life seems, when material things fall into their -subordinate places! If it might always be so! - -May 20. Still in Boston, interested in many things. People _are_ trying -to help each other. I have been at the Woman’s Industrial Union, -have heard Miss Leigh talk of her work in Paris, have talked over -the possibilities of better influences for girl-workers in Boston, -have listened to Miss Freeman’s report of her Student’s Aid work at -Wellesley College--all so suggestive--so hopeful! What should not the -woman of the future be? What may she not be? - - “I saw all women of our race - Revealed in that one woman’s face!” - -June 6. Canon Wilberforce and the great temperance meeting at Tremont -Temple. A most eloquent man, and he goes to the very root of the -matter,--no real temperance without spirituality. “Not drunken with -wine, but filled with the Holy Ghost,”--he made that infinite contrast -clear. His sermon yesterday was most impressive,--from the text, “What -seest thou?” It was a Trinity Sunday sermon, and the thought was that -in Jesus we see God most perfectly. But emphasis was placed upon the -attitude and condition of the soul, for the seeing. It was Canon -Wilberforce’s first sermon in Boston, and I think this is his first -visit to America. It is good to have such neighbors come to see us. - -In the afternoon Mr. Brooks spoke from the text, “He that hath the Son -hath life.” I have seldom heard him speak with more fervor, of what -life is, and of the dreadful thing it is to lack life, the life that -comes to us and is in us through Christ,--the life of God in human -souls. It is his last sermon for the summer, and the text itself is one -to keep close at heart all through the year. “Not merely the knowledge -of Christ, but Christ Himself with us, we must have,” he said: and with -the thought comes the suggestion of all true relations of spirit with -spirit, the human and the divine interblended, God the soul of our -souls and the children one with the Father through the Son. I thank God -for what I have found at Trinity Church this winter: I begin to know -more what the true Church is,--nothing exclusive or separating, but the -coming together of all souls in Christ. - -June 12. In Beverly, but not yet acclimated to the stronger sweep -of the east winds. They give rheumatic twinges. But the birds sing, -and the fresh foliage is shaken out into greenness, the rose acacia -and the bridal-wreath spirea run wild in the garden, and the freedom -of nature’s life revives mine. The thrill of the oriole,--what a -jubilation it is, through the Sabbath stillness; it is better than the -city in summer time. - -Read this morning Phillips Brooks’ sermon on “Visions” and “Tasks,” -and several others--among them, the “Church of the Living God.” - - -With reference to doctrines, she understood the Church’s position. The -great facts of Christianity as set forth in the Apostles Creed, she did -not doubt; and she liked the comprehensiveness of a Church, admitting -those who accept these facts and desire to live a Christian life, and -permitting a private opinion on many complicated questions of theology. -And yet, with her appreciation for the Church, she could not make -up her mind to enter it. There were objections difficult for her to -overcome. - -These objections were not of a devotional or theological, but of an -ecclesiastical character. High-Churchism, including in that term -Sacerdotalism, offered a barrier. She felt that, by joining the -Church, she would seem to approve of this teaching, and while she -was willing to admit the historical fact of Apostolical continuity, -she could not accept a theory of Apostolical succession which in any -way seemed to exclude from good standing, as Churches, the various -religious denominations which she had known and loved. She said, “In -the broad idea of Christ’s Church, Episcopacy at times seems to me no -less sectarian than other ‘isms.’” She had too much of the Puritan in -her to make any such admissions about the Episcopal Church that would -seem to indicate that she felt it was the only Church. Her position, as -late as 1890, is very well put, in a letter to Mrs. S. I. Spalding, of -Newburyport. - -“I do feel nearer a conclusion, such as you would approve, than I ever -have yet. I think, sometimes, I can see my way perfectly clear, but old -notions are hard to change. Do you think I can take all the Puritanism -implied in ‘A New England Girlhood,’ into the Church with me? Is it -possible to be inside the latter, and yet feel that all the others are -Churches, too, and that I am only signifying that I want to be more -completely in union with them all, by identifying myself with this one? -This is the way I should want to feel and do.” - -By means of letters and conversations with Mr. Brooks, she saw that -it was not necessary for her to give up all her Puritanism, on coming -into the Church, nor was she bound to accept the interpretation that -some Episcopalians put upon the Sacraments or Orders in the ministry. -She learned that the difficulties she was considering were dispelled -by the conception of the comprehensiveness of the Church. Mr. Brooks -wrote her, concerning a discussion in the Church papers, in which -Sacerdotalism was especially rampant: “There is nothing in it, which is -not now repeated for the hundredth time. The solution of it all is in -the comprehensiveness of the Church, which includes the vast expanse -both of breadth and narrowness.” In March, 1890, she came to the end of -her discussions, and seemed to see the true meaning of the Episcopal -Church, as one method of entering the larger Invisible Church of -Christ. She preferred this path to others, but looked upon it as a -path, not the end of the journey. - - -March 1, 1890. The same questionings,--yet a clearer light upon the -meaning of the Church has gradually come to me. It is as if there -were many doors of entrance into one vast temple, some of them opened -a little way, and with much scrutiny from within of applicants for -admission; some swung wide with welcome. But there is one united -worship inside, only some prefer to group themselves in cloisters or -corners; but there is freedom and light for all who will receive them. - -The Episcopal Church seems to have several doors of its own,--some wide -and some narrow; it is not _the_ Church,--only one way of entering -Christ’s Church. If I can enter it that way, I am already there. And -I believe more positively than ever, that we should say, in some -distinct, personal way, that Christ is the centre and head of humanity, -and that our whole life, earthly and heavenly, is hid in Him. - -What belongs to me in Puritanism I shall never lay aside; I could not, -if I would. But I do see more of a hope for future unity in the Church -service than in any other way; and if I can see therein for myself -the perfect freedom of Christ’s service, I am ready to make a new -profession there. I am waiting only for His guidance, now. - -I see more and more how much the writings of Maurice have been to me -for the past twenty years. He is continually unfolding my own thoughts -to me,--his absolute sincerity is contagious. I want no pretenses, -no subterfuges or concessions in the spiritual life. He speaks to me -more clearly than almost any audible voice. And his words seem the -expression of the mind of Christ. - -March 5. My birthday. And the world seems as if it were dimly dawning -anew to me. Everything in my life has taken a touch of awe,--of -strangeness. - -I do not know that there is any new gladness in the decision I made -yesterday, to be “confirmed” at Trinity Church, but there is a settled -feeling that may grow into happiness. I can say that my “heart is -fixed,” and my life will be firmer and more settled, for having found -a place for itself. The church itself seemed a different and more -beautiful place, as I sat there and listened to the story of the Woman -of Samaria, and of the separateness of souls in consecrated work. “Meat -to eat that ye know not of,” the doing of God’s will,--the hidden -manna and the white stone, with the new name known only to him who -receives it. Yes, this one little decision has opened closed doors to -me already--everything looks sacred. - -March 20. Last night I knelt in the chancel at Trinity Church, and -received, with many others, the benediction of consecrated hands; and -to-day I can think of myself as avowedly in the visible Church once -more. I have been in a false position all these years,--I see it now. -It does mean something to name the name of Christ in the presence of -His people, as one of their company. I have not been an unbeliever, -ever; He has been dear to me always, and most real to my heart. - -It was tranquillizing, to be bending there with all that young -life,--(no other older life), the snow falling without, soft and white -as doves’ wings, and the quiet consecration filling all hearts within. -I was not wholly happy; I have had too many struggles with myself, and -misapprehension between my own heart and others, perhaps, to feel glad -or uplifted,--but I was calm and thankful, and felt the atmosphere of -blessing surrounding us all. - -It is good to have taken this position; I shall feel stronger and -richer in life and spirit for it, I trust and believe. - -The few words of Mr. Brooks this morning at the church seemed to -carry out the spirit of last night’s service. We climb up the great -mountain-tops, he said, but we cannot live there, though we may keep -their inspiration within us. But the high table-lands which we have -gained by long gradual ascent,--we can live and breathe there; and can -grow hopeful in the broad outlook before us. Such are the consecrations -of life to which we have grown step by step, out of which greater -developments are to open for us, and above which the loftier summits -are always overhanging. - -March 26. The thought that has been with me most these few days -is that consecration means service: that it is not for one’s self -alone,--not the mere endeavor after personal holiness,--but to give the -life into which we enter to all other lives we can reach. (John xvii. -18, 19.) The spirit of these words of Christ is the true setting apart -of life, for the sake of all human lives. - -The chapter for to-day--the going forth of Joshua into Canaan after -that glorious Nebo-Vision of Moses, is full of suggestions for me. -I have not yet possessed my whole life, none of us have, but we go -forward courageously into it, in the name of the Lord. - - -We have sketched, chiefly in her own words, for they have a greater -significance, the history of a religious woman, finding her way into -the Kingdom of Christ through the doorway of the Episcopal Church. -She was a catholic, broad-minded Christian, and she became satisfied -with the doctrine and worship of the Church. She looked upon it as one -branch of the Church of God, but she also acknowledged other branches; -it became as much a home to her as it was possible for any Church to -be. She grew to love it, but the ideal and Invisible Church was ever -before her mind. - -The religious history of her life is like that of many others--those -who have become dissatisfied with a theology made up of men’s opinions, -and who seek light and life in the personality of Jesus. There are many -persons to-day, with natures capable of spiritual insight, who have -been educated to appreciate the best in our literature, who believe -in righteousness,--people with poetry in them, and a delicate sense -of fitness and dignity, who are thinking of the Episcopal Church as a -religious home. To such persons, a progress similar to that of Miss -Larcom can be effected only by the Church emphasizing those qualities -which attracted her. These characteristics of the Church may be -summarized as the spirituality, the breadth, and the magnanimity of the -Church. - -Prominent through all the services, the various organized forms of -church work, the observances of festivals and seasons, must be the -spiritual idea for which they all stand. This spiritual idea is the -bringing of the individual soul into such relations with Jesus that it -will find its truest self in Him and through Him, find its greatest -activity in reaching other souls. This great aim is frequently lost -sight of, because the Churches are so often business establishments -for the collection of money, and the successful management of -organizations. But there are souls longing to be fed, and these should -be remembered when the church seasons come, by the administration of -Sacraments as the simple offering of nourishment to those who need -it, not with the theological accompaniments of argument, but in the -sacredness of dependence on Christ, as in the first Easter communion of -Lucy Larcom, at Trinity Church. - -There is no need to elaborate the ideas of the breadth, or magnanimity -of the Church; for, in this day of vigorous thought and reconstruction -of older doctrines, both of these characteristics would seem to commend -themselves, on their simple announcement: for who is it that longs for -the narrowness of a “Westminster Confession” or even the mild bondage -of “The Thirty-Nine Articles”? And who is it that has sufficient -effrontery to un-church the millions who are trying in their own ways -to serve their Lord? That there is such narrowness in the Episcopal -Church no one can deny; it is in opposition to this that it must -present itself to the world, as a comprehensive and tolerant Church. - -Lucy Larcom, a Puritan, seized upon the vital truths of the Episcopal -Church. If these are kept before the people, this Church, as a part -of the kingdom of Christ, may hope to have a large influence in the -development of American Christianity. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -LAST YEARS. - - -Miss Larcom was loved in Beverly. The townspeople were justly proud of -her, and they always welcomed her sweet face into their homes. She was -interested in the Town Improvement Society, and once, at one of its -entertainments, she read two or three of her poems. When there was an -effort made to secure Prospect Hill for a public park, she sent some -appropriate lines to the local paper, hoping to influence opinion. Her -public spirit, as shown in her letters and diaries, was also active -in her life, and she joined, according to her opportunities, in such -affairs as could receive aid from her pen, and the townspeople were -gratified by her contributions to the village life. - -The success in literature of a Beverly boy made her happy. When -Mr. George E. Woodberry entered the company of American poets by -the publishing of the “North Shore Watch,” a volume containing -the triumphant ode, “My Country,” not unworthy of comparison with -Lowell’s “Commemoration Ode,” and the strong sonnets, “At Gibraltar,” -and the classic “Agathon,” she was one of the first to send him her -appreciation. - - -TO GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY. - - 214 COLUMBUS AVENUE, - BOSTON, February 18, 1889. - -DEAR MR. WOODBERRY,--I have just been reading your poems, and have -been so much moved by them that I wanted at once to tell you how -deeply they appeal to me. Most of our modern verse,--and I include -my own,--is too superficially lyrical, the measure often muffles the -meaning,--the thought flies off through the sound. In yours, the music -and the meaning unfold together, always hinting the deeper chords half -awakened beneath. The feeling of the unexpressed and the inexpressible -infinite--that which is at the source of everything real--that which -is life itself, is in your poetry, as in almost no other modern poetry -that I have read. - -The “Transcript” compares it with Clough’s. I delight in Clough, but I -do not like comparisons of this kind. You strike different chords, and -I believe that you have greater possibilities than he. What touches me -especially is the high purity of emotion which is yet as human as it -is holy. This is rare, even in great poetry. As I read some lines, it -seemed as if my soul were weeping for joy at their beauty. - -“Agathon” I wanted to read over again as soon as I had finished it. -Indeed, I shall want to turn to it often, for a breath of the pure -poetic ether. I do not know a greater poem of its kind since “Comus.” -Page 42, and from 59 onward, Milton might have been proud to write. -They appeal to all that nobler part of us that lives beneath the -shows of things; and I am glad that so young a poet as you begins his -song so nobly. I am proud, too, that you are a Beverly boy, as I am -a Beverly woman. But for that, I might not have ventured to write so -freely. I have not room to write all I want to say, but I must mention -the “Christ Scourged,” which seems to me wonderful in its strength of -sympathetic expression. It would give me great pleasure to meet you. If -you are staying in town, I wish you would call here some evening. - - Truly yours, - LUCY LARCOM. - -In preparing a new edition of “Songs of Three Centuries,” she included -among the additions, a poem by Dr. Solis-Cohen, “I Know that My -Redeemer Liveth,” and also, “The Crowing of the Red Cock,” by Emma -Lazarus. In the course of the correspondence, Dr. Solis-Cohen wrote so -frankly, giving his feelings about Christ from an intelligent Jewish -standpoint, that she answered in a similar vein, stating clearly her -idea of the relations that should exist between the Jew and Christian. -Dr. Solis-Cohen had written: “No professed Christian can exceed many -Jews in love for the pure and lofty character of Jesus, and we can -readily accept that character, as a manifestation of God in man, while -we decline to accept the superstructure of the Church.” - - -TO DR. SOLOMON SOLIS-COHEN. - - BEVERLY, MASS., October 18, 1890. - -DR. S. SOLIS-COHEN:-- - -_Dear Sir_,--The proof of your poem is just received,--and I have put -your corrections away so carefully that I cannot at this moment lay my -hand upon them; so I will ask you to correct the copy and send it to -the printers as soon as convenient. I will tell them to wait for it. - -The magazine with the poem in it is received--beautiful and graceful -I find the latter. I wish the additions to the “Songs” were not -limited--but the publishers do not wish to enlarge the volume too much. -We shall have two poems by Emma Lazarus; one of them Mr. Whittier tells -me he considers her best--“The Crowing of the Red Cock.” - -Your letter interests me exceedingly. I grew up under the influence -of old-fashioned Puritanism, and from it drew the idea that Jew and -Christian were really one, only they did not understand each other. - -Children do construct their own theology oftener than is thought, I -believe. The Puritan was like the Hebrew in many ways, most of all in -his firm hold of moral distinctions, in his belief in the One God as -the God of righteousness and truth. - -Certainly no one ever insisted upon obedience to the law more -positively than Christ himself. We Christians do believe in Him as the -human manifestation of God: that is the one distinctive element of our -faith. - -All sorts of strange doctrines have been built up about this idea. - -I care for none of them, but rest upon what is to me a spiritual -certainty--“Truly this _is_ the Son of God.” - -I emphasize the “_is_” because to me that visible life was only one -phase of His eternal presence in and with humanity. To me He is “the -living Lord”--the Spirit bearing witness to our spirits of their own -immortal meaning; and so “the Resurrection and the Life.” - -But His life has no spiritual power over ours, unless it teaches us -divine love--unless we live in that love which He came to unveil. - -Christians have miserably failed of this--in their treatment of each -other as well as of the Jews, but it is because they have not received -the spirit of their Master. - -I thank you sincerely for writing to me so freely, and I thank you for -having written the poem enclosed, which bears the same message to me -as a Christian, that it does to you as a Jew. I should like to know -more of Emma Lazarus. Her early death was a loss to all lovers of true -poetry. - - Very truly yours, - LUCY LARCOM. - - -The ecstacy of a sudden realization of religious truth sometimes -overcame her in the summer mornings, and her heart uttered itself -fervently in prayer, as will be seen in the following extracts from her -diary. - - -July 5, 1890. I awoke with a strange joy as of some new revelation, -that seemed sounding through my soul, with the words, “Lift up your -heads, O ye gates, and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, and the -King of Glory shall come in!” - -Is it a new entering in of life and love at all the doors of my nature? -doors that I have left closed and overgrown, perhaps? Come in, O Life, -O Truth, O Love, by whatever gate thou wilt,--in whatever form thou -wilt! Only make me ready to receive thee, and to go with thee through -the gates into the freedom of thy universe! - -August 3. Now I see life more clearly in all its bearings, its dangers, -and its hopes,--its earthly and heavenly unity. It is almost like -beginning a new childhood in the Kingdom of Heaven. All things centre -themselves in Christ, the living, spiritual Christ, who is the Life, -the Reality, the Person, who makes us real to each other through the -eternal union with the Father. Nature is alive. Nothing is dead that -the heart of God has touched. And human beings seem so near and dear! - -I think of those who have gone, of my sisters Louisa and Charlotte, of -my mother, of all the friends whom I see no more, but who have made -part of my true life. They seem more alive than when here; my communion -is with them and with all the living to-day. - -August 6. This morning, with the opening of my windows on the white -floating clouds of summer, and the warm hillside, softened with the -mist of coming showers, a song and a hymn arose in my thoughts:-- - -O Thou Eternal Loveliness,--I am part of Thee, or I am not at all! -Nature is the expression of Thee, but yet more is this human life of -mine. Because I am, and can feel and see this beauty,--feel it as a -part of my own life and soul, I know that Thou art--the Divine One -in whom all that is immortal of me is enfolded, and from whom it is -unfolded. How can Thy being be questioned by one who has had a single -glimpse of the beauty of this Thy world? It is such happiness to feel -that I am part of it all, because I belong to Thee! Yet I should never -have known the spirit of it all, never should have understood the -secret, except through the Son, who has brought Thy children back to -their spiritual home in Thee. In Him the evil of earth is conquered, -and the good of earth is shown also to be the good of heaven. To be of -one spirit with Him, the Perfect Love and the Infinite Loveliness, is -to belong to the Whole, and so to Thee. And so there can be no losing -of anything for us eternally. Who shall separate us from any true Love? - -August 24. On the summit of Moosilauke. - -Have been here four or five days, in cloud and mist and rain. One -bright sunset, two pleasant afternoons, on the last of which there was -the most beautiful phenomenon that we call “the sun drawing water.” I -never looked down upon the earth through that many tinted transparency -of sun and mist before. It was wide as the whole West, and the tints of -green upon the nearer hills were brought out with softest intensity. -It was like an open fan of thinnest gossamer, wavering in all possible -hues between us and the landscape. But the sign was true. It has rained -steadily for three days and nights. - -August 27. Monday and Tuesday there was a fine sunset and sunrise, and -four travelers were up here to enjoy it. But yesterday the mist and -cloud rolled up from the valley again, and in the night a southeast -storm set in, preceded by the same sign in the east that was in the -west last Thursday. It is one of the signs of approaching rain,--the -clearness with which the summits and ranges are outlined through the -mist. They are most dreamily lovely, so. I thought yesterday how much -the earth and sky were alike, on these high places. It was hard to tell -which was mountain and which was cloud. - -September 6. A week of great beauty in cloud-scenery, though with -little sunshine. Most suggestive phases of cloud and mountain -interblending; I have been out in it everywhere I could; twice at -sunrise, when I was well rewarded by the glory in the east. The days -seem so short! I was foolish to bring books up here,--and yet I have -found them companionable now and then. “God in his World” I have -re-read--it is a book for the heights. - -February 4, 1891. Boston. In my room at the Hoffman House these last -two weeks. I could not get settled earlier; others were occupying it. -But I love this room, because I have lived so intensely and deeply in -it; because I have had revelations in it of God and his truth, of human -friendship, of the inmost meanings of life. The very walls seem alive -to me sometimes. Every place where we have met God, and come to feel -Him as the reality in all things, is holy ground. - -One of the pleasant things of the last month was my visit to Wheaton -Seminary, and the meeting with Mr. Brooks there, and hearing him speak -to the girls, making them more happy, and helping them much, as I -have to-day heard. His presentation of Christ as the Way, the Truth, -and the Life, has led one, at least, to a decision for herself, that -Christ is the Son of God. I like to meet new friends in my old haunts. -I have lived through some painful and some delightful experiences at -Norton, struggling and groping in solitude through formal dogma and -doctrine into spiritual truth, for there was none with me, and my way -of thinking was accounted heresy. But I felt beckoned into clearer -light than there was around me, and I followed in silence. I first read -Maurice there, and F. W. Robertson, who opened doors for me which have -never since been closed. And I taught my pupils, giving them what I had -received, truths which I felt were unquestionable, and I knew, while -there, that it was not wholly in vain, though I had access to but a -few. Now I go back, and I find the whole school apparently ready for -this clearer spiritual light, and I am glad. We must love places where -we have truly lived,--even in heaven we shall remember them. - -I finished my little book last week,--“As It Is in Heaven.” I wonder -if it was presumptuous in me to write it? But it seemed to grow by -itself, and I wanted to give the blossoms and fruit that had shaped -themselves in my mind, to those who might enjoy them, and perhaps get -some refreshment and strength from them. I trust it will be of service -to somebody. - -April 3. Lent has passed, and Passion Week, and Easter. All these -festivals now mean so much to me, and yet not wholly for themselves, -but because they make the whole year sacred. I have attended all the -morning services, and have found it good to begin the days with that -half-hour of prayer and thought, and communion with others. Once I -should have thought this frequent assembling together day after day, -and week after week, for religious services, at least unnecessary. But -for the deepening life that has come to me through them I can never be -sufficiently thankful, and I feel that the Church holds through them a -special power over the spiritual life of the community. For the last -weeks of winter and first weeks of spring, everybody is reminded that -this life of ours belongs to us through the life and death of Christ -our Lord. We are always forgetting that,--always falling back into -ourselves and our own petty interests and plans and thoughts of and for -ourselves. - -I cannot see why Churches of every name should not keep Lent and Good -Friday and Easter, as they do Christmas, and I believe they are moving -in that direction. - -I was present at the Good Friday evening service at the Old South, -presided over by its pastor, Rev. Mr. Gordon, where a Baptist, a -Unitarian, a Congregationalist, and three Episcopal clergymen took -part. It was most impressive, and seemed like a promise of the time -when all Christ’s people shall be one. The Good Friday sermon at -Trinity Church in the morning was to me a new unfolding of a thought -that has always perplexed me, from the text, “The blood of Christ -cleanseth from all sin.” I could never make the “Atonement,” as set -forth by the religious teachers of my youth, a reality to myself; -Christ Himself was always real, as a divine man, and as a living -presence with us still, but how His death was to us more than His Life, -I could never see. The grandeur of it all,--the love that inspired the -sacrifice, always moved my being to its depths, but the prominence -given to His “Blood-shedding” seemed unnatural. It was tragic; -pictorial; yet somehow outside of me--a scene upon which I gazed, and -wondered, and longed to understand. - -I cannot recall the words of Mr. Brooks’s sermon, but the feeling and -the thought left with me from it was that now I could see it all; and -that through that completed sacrifice, the divine life entered into -every human soul that could open to receive it. And it is the very -thought of the blood, which represents, and _is_, the life, that made -it clear. - -He gives all of himself that He has to give, in first living for us, -and then dying for us. And the giving means our receiving His pure life -into our stained souls, so that their defilement is cleansed, and we -live His life of love and sacrifice, instead of our old selfish and -sinful one. It is now His blood that flows through us, and inspires us -with eternal strength. And this is what it means to be His, and one -with Him; the character, the person, must be renewed, when filled with -his purity, with his righteousness, and his consecration. Any other -view of the atonement than this seems to me still to be something of a -fiction. But this view is so inspiring to me, that the cross has a new -meaning,--it is the true and only emblem of Christ’s work to hold up -before the world. - -May 17. Mr. Brooks’s election as bishop has followed almost as the -natural sequence to Bishop Paddock’s death, and it has seemed to be -demanded quite as much by the community at large as by the church. The -feeling has been, that if there is a place of higher influence for -such a man, he must be put in it. I have not been accustomed to think -that there can be any higher place than that of a Christian minister, -but he will not cease to be this. But for me it is like the closing of -a beautiful book of inspiration, from which I have been reading for -the past ten years, almost constantly of late; and before the bishop’s -death, I have felt that it was more than any one congregation ought -to have to itself, and God will broaden the stream of the water of -Life now into more far-reaching channels. The change has brought great -sadness, but our best is given us to share, and we shall find joy even -in this sacrifice. - -May 1. At Beverly,--and tired with my spring languor, and some inward -depression. Yesterday I talked with Mr. Brooks about the change that -is coming, and though I believe it best and needful for him, still -I feel in it an unutterable sadness. It is strange that I do, for I -never expect to see him often, or to hear him preach except for a few -weeks in the winter. But I suppose we have all had the satisfaction of -knowing that the fountain was flowing and that we might drink if we -would. And what have I not received at this source? What a different -world it is to me, from what it was ten years ago. How I have become -strengthened through and through, to see and know what spiritual life -is, and in my measure to live it, as I believe! Soul and eyes and heart -and hands and feet have been given to me anew, through the illumination -received. - -That strange “light in light” that seemed to glow around me, as I knelt -in reconsecration of myself, a little more than a year ago, has not -left me, though it is dimmed by this present regret, and I shall walk -on in it through paths yet untried. - -Yesterday I sat in the same room and the same chair where, eight years -ago, Mr. Brooks first suggested that my place might be in the Episcopal -Church. I had not thought it possible, and did not see it so then. To -be sitting there in his study, where I had not been again since that -first talk with him, as one of his people, and to hear him speak of -the strangeness to him of his own new outlook upon life and work,--of -the suddenness with which the change has come to him: “First it seemed -impossible, and then it became inevitable,” he said,--brought back that -other day and all the time between, and my own experience in being -lifted out of my old associations into the Church,--for it seems to me -that unseen hands at last lifted me into my place. - -Well might he speak of that room as a sacred room, where so many souls -had been strengthened and led on into light. I wish he need not leave -his house when he becomes bishop; it is so truly identified with his -life. Our place is partly ourself. I am sure he needs a change, after -so many years of incessant service, doing the work of twenty men, -apparently. He will still have hard work to do, but it will not be of -the same kind. - -I do believe that the hand of God is in his election as bishop. -It is not so much the Episcopal Church (much as he loves it, and -believes in it) that is to be benefited: the whole church--the whole -community--will feel the difference in the freedom and depth of -spiritual life that can but radiate from such a man, wherever he goes. -I do want to live at least ten years longer, to have a part in the good -time. - -Mr. Whittier writes to me: “The very air of Massachusetts is freer and -sweeter, since his election,” and these are the words of a seer. - -And still it is a haunting regret that I shall no longer hear his words -in the old familiar way, at Trinity Church. - - -TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING. - - BEVERLY, MASS., June 3, 1891. - -MY DEAR FRIEND,--I do not think the weather would have kept me here -quite, last week, but I also have had to call myself half-sick. I think -it must be the “grippe” or the effect of some subtle seizure of that -fiend, for I am unaccountably good-for-nothing, in many ways. I had to -lie still all last Sunday. I _must_ go to Boston next Sunday, for it is -the Communion Service, which has become very dear to me, and more so -_now_. - -Perhaps I will try again this week coming to you on Friday and going to -Amesbury on Saturday for a call; thence to Boston. If you should hear -that Mr. Whittier had gone to Portland (he is expected there next week) -perhaps you will let me know by Friday morning. - -I should _prefer_ coming to see you when I could stay over Sunday. But -while Mr. Brooks preaches I want to improve every chance of hearing -him. I thought he would not be permitted to leave Trinity Church--I -believe that he was himself surprised at his own nomination. But he -would have fallen in the harness there: no man could do _forever_ the -superhuman work he was doing, and the collapse might have been sudden. -I have seen him within a week or two, and he looks at the new work with -all the enthusiasm of a boy. The change may prolong his strength and -usefulness; for nothing but change of work would be rest to him. - -The _little_ side of Episcopacy is making itself manifest, as it must, -when so great a man is brought into contrast with _mere_ systematizers, -petty planners of the Kingdom which is infinite, _so_ infinite that it -absorbs them, as the atmosphere does motes and insects. - - Yours with love, - LUCY LARCOM. - - -September 13, 1891. Summit of Moosilauke. I have been here three weeks -yesterday, with rainy or cloudy weather most of the time, and a few -days of perfect beauty. It has been warm weather, never cold enough for -winter clothing, but heavy and damp sometimes. In every bright interval -I have been out, half a dozen times out in the sunrise alone (one of -the best things up here). The sunrises in which the sun was not visible -were loveliest; when the rays reached across from under a cloud, and -over the lower mists, to the distant mountains in the south, penciling -them with soft rose and pearl tints. The finest sunrise was when the -sunbeams shone down from under a dark purple cloud on a foamy sea of -white mist that covered the landscape, touching its upper surface with -the splendor we usually see from below. There was a sunset the night -before, with a similar effect, just as a storm was rolling away. There -has been less variety in the phases of cloud-beauty than usual. - -Yesterday was my best day of all. I walked over to the East Peak, and -looked down into the great ravine, where the shadow of our mountain was -slowly ascending the opposite slopes. The higher peaks behind shone in -soft purple through the rosy mist, and as I stopped at a crest half-way -to the Peak, they grew so beautiful in their loneliness, uplifted from -sombre depths to luminous height, and brought to my thoughts such -heavenly-human associations, of the great ones known and unknown, who -have glorified my life and uplifted it into spiritual splendor, that my -eyes were again and again filled with warm, happy tears. God has been -very good to me in these latter years, in bringing me to the mountains -and giving me friends. It is the utter loneliness that I sometimes -have with nature, up here, that makes the place so delightful to me. -The people are only incidental; only now and then one who loves the -mountains in my way, or in a better way, gives them a new attraction. - -The mountains are more human to me than any other exhibition of -inorganic nature; they are indeed presences. There must be something -like them in heaven. - -I go down to-morrow, to hotel-life for a week or so, but the peace and -strength of the hills will remain in my heart. - -Beverly, October 17, 1891. These last three weeks,--these last three -days, especially,--have been so full! I have lived more in them, in the -very deepest part of my life, than in as many years, often. - -The consecration of a bishop whose ministry has been more to my -spiritual life than that of any other minister; the joy of knowing him -as a friend; the sorrow of losing him as a minister; the thankfulness -that I may be counted in as one of his people still, to work in his -larger field with him; the certainty that God has called him to do more -than ever for the coming of His Kingdom: it is a great flood of regret -and triumph that has been flowing through me, and that fills me still. -I am full of tears and song; I never felt life so real and so deep. -It is like setting sail on the grandest voyage of hope, with a chosen -spirit of God at the helm, and all of us full of the inspiration of his -life and faith. - -I was glad to sit a little aside at the Consecration Service, and feel -more than I could see, though I saw all the best of it,--that grand -manhood in the midst of white-robed clergy and bishops, one with it -all, and yet so superior to it all, the great humble man, bowed among -his brethren, to receive his new office! And I shall never forget my -first glimpse of him in his new character, with the Communion cup in -his hand, a token of service yet to be rendered; Christ’s life still to -be poured out for his brethren through his own. - -So may our lives all be enlarged and strengthened with his, to serve -our Master better, in a wider and deeper service of humankind! - - -TO J. G. WHITTIER. - - BEVERLY, February 24, 1892. - -... The thought of a present God, who is a personal Friend to every -Soul, has always haunted me, and of late years has become more real and -close. It seems to me that all truth and peace and hope centre there. -It gives new meaning to immortality, and to this life as the beginning -of an immortal one. Every year it seems a happier thing to be alive, -and to know that I cannot die. - -Through _thee_, my friend, I have come to see this very slowly. I have -always thought of thee as a spiritual teacher. And then of late years -to have had in addition the teachings and friendship of Phillips Brooks -has been a great and true help. I thank God that you two men live, and -“will always live,” as he says to you, and that I have known you both. - -When he called at Mrs. Spalding’s after seeing you, he told us about -the Ary Scheffer poem, and repeated it to us from the words “O heart -of mine,” through to the end, as he went away, standing before the -picture,--“Christus Consolator,” which hangs at her parlor door.... - - -TO THE SAME. - - BEVERLY, MASS., July 10, 1892. - -MY DEAR FRIEND,--I heard of you last in Danvers, but I am not sure -whether you are there or not, though I have been trying to get around -and see! I have been occupied with various matters which have taken -me to Boston frequently, and I have usually stayed with Mrs. Guild, -Roxbury. - -... I do not find myself so strong as usual this year, and my plans for -work may all fall through. I think I never had so much that I wanted -to do, before. My last two little books have been so widely and warmly -welcomed, that it seems to me as if I had only just learned what I -_can_ do. If I had begun to write from what I feel most deeply twenty -years ago, I might have been of some real help to the world. But then I -had not had the experience, and perhaps could not. - -It makes me very thankful to know that you approve my work. We have -so often talked over these matters together. I think the inspiration -must be partly, at least, from you. I know that my one desire is for -_reality_ in the spiritual life, for self and for others.... - - -Beverly, October 16, 1892. This summer has brought me little time for -writing, but much for suffering and thinking. Three months ago to-day -my dear sister Emeline left this world; suddenly,--quietly,--just -“slipped away,” her daughter Lucy says. She made herself ready for -church, and sat waiting,--but it was heaven for her, instead. Her going -makes more difference to me than the departure of any one else could; -for she has been part of my life ever since I was born. She did more to -shape my mind--my soul--than any one else did. And yet I differed from -her in my way of thinking, upon many things; the deep agreement was -underneath, at the spiritual foundations. I think her great power over -me was in her great capacity for love. Her great heart, while it was -faithful to home ties, failed of love to none of God’s children; and to -me she was even more mother than sister. Her going makes it an easier -thing for me to go, when the time comes. - -Then, while on Moosilauke summit, the news of Mr. Whittier’s death -came to me--more translation than death. I seemed to see him pass on -by me, up the heights, and seemed to hear him say, as he passed, “So -easy a thing it is to die! Like the mountain blending with the clouds, -like the melting of earth into sky, is the transition from life into -loftier life.” He too passed away in peace; the lovelier to think -of, because he had always dreaded the hour of death. He, too, was my -noble and tried friend; in my life for more than fifty years. He is -associated in my life with the beauty of the hills and the sea that -we have enjoyed together, with the deep things of poetry and religion, -which were indeed one reality to him. The memory of fireside talks in -his own home, with his sister, so dear to us both; the readings of “In -Memoriam” with him after she was gone,--are most blessedly vivid to me. - -And Tennyson has died, within a week! One could know him only through -his poetry, but what a halo that has hung over our mortal life in all -its phases! To know the man and the poet, as I knew Whittier, and to be -able to feel the greatness of both, is an immortal possession. - -Emerson, Browning, Bryant, Whittier, Tennyson,--and where are the -singers who take us into the heart of things as they did? There is a -delicate murmur of trained voices making music in this modern air, but -it does not arrest us and hold us, as the voices of the now silent -masters did. It is hardly an age of song. - - -TO MRS. S. T. PICKARD. - - BEVERLY, October 16, 1892. - -... I have dreamed of him [Mr. Whittier] lately, sitting by the -fireside chatting in the old way, as when I used to visit him and Aunt -Lizzie. She was more to me than almost any friend, more even than he. -I always thought of them as one; and now they are together again. They -cannot be far away. I want to keep near them in spirit, so as to find -them at once, by and by. I am glad I did not ever know that he was -rich. He used to want to pay my bills when we were at West Ossipee, -etc., but I declined, for I supposed he was almost as poor as myself, -though I know of late years his books have paid well. I am very glad -he left me the copyright of the books I compiled with him; and indeed -it was only right, as I worked so hard on them. The “Songs of Three -Centuries” nearly cost me my health; the publishers “rushed” it so. I -was good for nothing for three or four years after, as far as writing -went. But he never knew. - - -TO S. T. PICKARD. - - BEVERLY, MASS., November 11, 1892. - -DEAR MR. PICKARD,--The trouble with me now is that I am on the invalid -list, and am warned not to promise or undertake any new work at -present, nor to work continuously in the future, as I have done. The -heart seems to be the weak member, and really stops me, even upon -slight exertion. I have meant to look over my letters from our friend, -and see if there was anything you could use; but they are packed away -with others in a cold room, where I do not venture to go. I have -not left the house for nearly four weeks, now, and I see that some -revolution in my way of living must be made. But I hope to be stronger -some time than I am now,--at least to the extent of getting out into -the air. I am sorry not to be able to say that I can be depended upon, -though I will gladly do what I can to help you. - -It is unfortunate for me to be hindered by the state of my health, as -I had plans I wanted to set about at once, of my own. It is imperative -for me to be earning money regularly, for an income, as I have never -quite accumulated it into the thousands. My recent little books, for -the past four years, have been more profitable than before, and I can -see one or two more as possibilities, if I could put myself down to the -work. I mention all this to show you how I am situated, as to doing -what you suggest. - -Then there is one other thing,--Mr. Whittier many times said to me, -apparently in earnest and jest, both,--“Don’t thee ever go writing -about me!” It used to hurt me a little, as if I would parade his -friendship for me in any way! I could not do, after he died, what I -would not when he was alive,--unless I knew he was willing,--and he -never hinted any wish of the kind, certainly. I have already been asked -to furnish “Recollections” for two periodicals, and have declined. I -may be over-particular in this matter, but I do feel a delicacy about -it,--almost as if I had not the right. - -I write just as the matter looks to me now, and with the sincerest wish -to honor our dear friend’s memory. Tell me your view of it! - - Yours sincerely, - LUCY LARCOM. - - -TO FRANKLIN CARTER. - - 214 COLUMBUS AVENUE, BOSTON, - January 10, 1893. - -DEAR FRANK,--I have just finished reading the life of Dr. Mark Hopkins, -and think it a most interesting record of a grand life. I thank you for -sending it to me. I could not help thinking, as I read, how full our -country is of noble men of whom we know nothing, or very little. I knew -Dr. Hopkins was an able man, but he was only a name to me until I read -your book. But of course he was a very unusual man. How grateful and -glad you must be that he was your teacher, and that you could tell his -story so well! I have known little of you, and you of me, for several -years. I have felt that the years of work could not be many for me, and -so I have been hard at work writing, that I might give something to -those who could receive from me, before I died. - -I do not know whether you have seen my little books or not. I have -published three in the last two years. The two prose books I thought I -had a call to write, and the response they have received has shown that -I was not wholly wrong. - -Perhaps I have given myself too closely to writing, for I am far -from well. Careful medical examination shows that I have organic -heart-disease, which will need to be watched carefully in the future; I -shall have to go slowly hereafter. Yet I have many plans that I want to -carry out; and it is as necessary now as ever for me to earn my daily -bread. But I am not in the least bit anxious. The kind of writing I do, -does not bring much money, and I am not desirous of writing the kind -that does. - -These later years have been happy ones to me, because I have been doing -things I like to do, and have had noble and sympathetic friends. One -of my best friends--Whittier--is out of sight now, but I do not feel -that he is far away. Life is one, in all the worlds, and it is life in -God that unites us all. God in Christ is the great uniting reality to -me. And yet I live so far from my ideal of what it is! How much more we -should all be to each other, if we believed it, through and through!-- - -I cannot write, or do anything continuously, without pain in my chest, -so I desist, with love to you and yours. - - Faithfully ever, - LUCY LARCOM. - - -TO MISS FOBES. - - ROXBURY, MASS., March 14, 1893. - -MY DEAR MISS FOBES,--I did not think it would be so long before your -kind letters would be acknowledged, but the truth is that even a little -book, if one’s heart is in the writing of it, is very absorbing,--and -mine has taken all my time. I am reading the proof sheets of it now, -and it will be out early in April. (I am visiting a friend here, for a -week, trying to rest a rather tired head.) - -These little books I have somehow been impelled to write, from the -feeling that others might be helped, by seeing the way I had been led, -and the point at which I had arrived. For I can but think of these -later years as having been most plainly to myself under spiritual -guidance. I prayed for it always. I remember walking alone in the woods -behind Monticello Seminary, my heart asking with tears that I might -suffer much, if so I could find the true secret of life. I have not -suffered as many have,--I have only had ordinary trials and losses and -matter-of-fact struggles with circumstances, but I have often been in -danger of succumbing to lower standards than I believed in. But it has -been the one effort of my life to keep in sight the highest and best, -and to be satisfied with nothing less. - -Now the best seems to me the simplest:--to receive, and to give by -living it, the life of Christ. That is the thought I have kept before -me in my little book, which I call “The Unseen Friend.” I shall send -you a copy, as soon as possible. - -I am much interested in what you write of the word “eternal.” It was on -the meaning of that word that my first divergence from the Calvinistic -theories occurred, many years ago. I read F. D. Maurice much, and still -do so. His rendering of the word “eternal” was, you know, considered -heresy in his own church. Now, the exception is, in this region, to -hear it preached in any other sense. I think it first implies the -_character_ of the life, but also its _duration_. It is only the real -that can last, and grow better and better forever, as being a progress -into the infinite life of God. It is death to refuse to receive this -life; I cannot think that any soul will forever refuse, though the -freedom of the human will makes it a possibility. - -I look upon this life on earth as but a beginning, rather an education -than a probation--and yet that also, as every hour of our life is a -trial of our fitness for the next hour. One thing I have liked in the -Episcopal Church since I knew it and have been in it, is that they -preach this practical, spiritual life so much more than systems and -doctrines. The Christian year is a repeated following of the story and -the spirit of Christ’s life, and everybody can understand it. Nobody -can hold the Apostles Creed, and not believe in the oneness of the Son -and Father, and that is the pivotal truth of Christianity. More and -more I see the failures in my past life, through not entering into this -central truth in a more living way. - -I thank you for the kind things you say of my poems and books. There is -no one whose approval I value more deeply. Sometimes I wish I had more -years before me, for I feel as if I were just beginning to see clearly, -and I am more and more interested in this human life of ours. Yet how -little any of us can do to relieve its burdens. How hopeless its evils -and sins sometime look! - -I have just read “David Grieve.” It is far from being a cheerful book, -though powerfully written. It is, however, an improvement upon “Robert -Elsmere,” which seemed to me wordily weak. - -I have seen Emily Dickinson’s poems, and enjoy their queer gleaming and -shadowy incoherences. It does not seem as if her mind could have been -fairly balanced. But her love of nature redeems many faults. - -That poem in the “Christian Union,” “The Immortal Now,” must have -been printed early in the year 1890, I think. Possibly in 1889, but I -believe I wrote it in the winter of 1889-90. If I can find a duplicate, -I will send it to you. I have a half-project of collecting my religious -poems by themselves, for next Christmas. What would you think of it? - - Always affectionately yours, - LUCY LARCOM. - - -The following letter was written to Bishop Brooks a few days before his -death, and was found on his desk, while his body still lay in his home, -the soul having gone to be “near the Master and Friend.” - - -TO PHILLIPS BROOKS. - - 214 COLUMBUS AVENUE, - January 17, 1893. - -It is a real trial to me, my dear friend, that I am unable to hear you -to-night, when you are probably speaking so near me; and yet a greater -to think that I may be denied it all winter. For I find myself more -ill than I supposed I was, and am not at present permitted to go out -at all. It is a heart derangement, which has shown some dangerous -symptoms. I have been to Trinity Church, but am told that I must not -attempt walking there again. It seems childish to tell you about it, -but you know you are my rector still,--and I had been looking forward -to seeing and hearing you occasionally. - -Sometimes it seems to me that God’s way of dealing with me is not -to let me see much of my friends, those who are most to me in the -spiritual life, lest I should forget that the invisible bond is the -only reality. That is the only way I can reconcile myself to the -inevitable separations of life and death. I know that I feel more -completely in sympathy with those who went away from me into heaven -long ago than I did when they were here. Still I love and long for my -friends, and would gladly see them while they are here, in the dear -familiar way. - -I have accustomed myself to the thought that my call hence may come -suddenly, and if I should not meet you again here, you will know that -in any world I shall look for you near the Master and Friend in whose -presence you live here, and whose love you have helped me to see as the -one thing worth living for anywhere. I can truly say that the last ten -years of my life have been better and happier than all that went before. - - Faithfully yours, L. L. - - -February 20, 1893. A strange mingled experience the last three or -four months. Weeks of illness in the late autumn in Beverly, when I -suddenly was brought to the knowledge that I have an incurable disease -of the heart, which had been aggravated by overwork and neglect. In -the enforced quiet, I could only think, and that was not permitted -about disturbing things. Then, a little recovered, I came to Boston -just before Christmas, and used my strength too rapidly, so that now -I have been in my room under the doctor’s care, for over a month. And -since I have lain here, a great calamity has befallen. The noblest of -men and friends has left the world,--Phillips Brooks. One month ago -this morning he breathed his last. He, with whom it was impossible to -associate the idea of death;--was?--_is_ so, still!--the most living -man I ever knew--physically, mentally, spiritually. It is almost like -taking the sun out of the sky. He was such an illumination, such a -warmth, such an inspiration! And he let us all come so near him,--just -as Christ does! - -I felt that I knew Christ personally through him. He always spoke of -Him as his dearest friend, and he always lived in perfect, loving -allegiance to God in Him. Now I know him as I know Christ,--as a spirit -only, and his sudden withdrawal is only an ascension to Him, in the -immortal life. Shut into my sick-room, I have seen none of the gloom of -the burial; I know him alive, with Christ, from the dead, forevermore. -Where he is, life must be. He lived only in realities here, and he is -entering into the heart of them now. “What a new splendor in heaven!” -was my first thought of him, after one natural burst of sorrow. What -great services he has found! How gloriously life, with its immortal -opportunities, must be opening to him! He,--one week here,--the next -there,--and seen no more here again. The very suddenness of his going -makes the other life seem the real one, rather than this. And a man -like this is the best proof God ever gives human beings of their own -immortality. - -I treasure my last memories of him, the last sermon I heard him preach -at Trinity, at the October Communion; the last time I saw him there, -just before Christmas, and the last warm pressure of his hand, and -the sunlike smile as he spoke to me at the church door; the last note -he wrote me when he spoke of Mr. Whittier in the other life, with -such reverent love: “Think what--_where_--he is now!”--even as we are -thinking of him. It seems as if God gave me these last three years -of intimate friendship with him, in connection with the Church, as -the crowning spiritual blessing of my life. The rest of it must be -consecrated to the noblest ends, like his. - - -In March and early April, 1893, Miss Larcom’s heart-trouble was rapidly -developing into an alarming condition, and she realized that the end -must soon come. Her life had reached its climax in the little book, -“The Unseen Friend,” in which she had written her last and greatest -religious message to the world. More of her friends were on the “other -side” than here, and her eyes eagerly sought the visions beyond. - -Her old pupils and friends remembered her during those weary days of -suffering in the Hoffman House, Boston. Her beloved niece, Miss Lucy -Larcom Spaulding (now Mrs. Clark) was with her constantly, ministering -to her needs. Some sent her flowers, which she loved so dearly; others, -fruit; one desired to send from the West a luxurious bed; and one sent -a reclining-chair. The old cook, Norah, at Norton, asked the privilege -of making graham bread for her. Her old scholars remembered her more -substantially, by a loving gift, in those days when her pen was forced -into idleness. She painfully felt the restraints of her illness. Her -nights were full of distress. In a half-amused way, she said, “I never -knew what it was to be really sick. I knew people had to stay in bed, -and have the doctor, but I thought they slept at night.” - -The end drew near. On Saturday evening, April the fifteenth, she said -it would be a great joy to exchange the physical for the spiritual -body; and she was comforted by reading Bishop Brooks’s addresses, -“Perfect Freedom.” - -On Monday, April the seventeenth, she grew rapidly worse; and in -her unconsciousness, she frequently murmured in prayer, the word -“Freedom.” On this day her soul was released, and she entered into the -fullness of the Glory of God. - -On a little slip of paper she had written these last words:-- - - “O Mariner-soul, - Thy quest is but begun, - There are new worlds - Forever to be won.” - -She was borne lovingly to Trinity Church, where she had worshiped; and -there, in the presence of her sorrowing friends, the service was held. -There was also a service in St. Peter’s Church, Beverly, where her -fellow-townsmen gathered to do her this last honor. She was laid to -rest in the soil of her native town, within sight and sound of the sea. - - - - -INDEX. - - - Abraham, Mount, 72. - - Adirondacks, 237. - - Advertiser, Boston Daily, 182. - - Alden, John, 97. - - Aldrich, T. B., 84. - - Alps, 84, 122, 168. - - “American Women of Note,” 239. - - Amesbury, 98, 134, 146, 170. - - Anderson, Hans, 176. - - Andover, 145, 219. - - Andrew, Governor, 111. - - Androscoggin, 227. - - Anglo-Saxon Poetry, 49. - - Annapolis, 224. - - Appledore, 166. - - Appleton, Nathan, 7. - - Arnold, Matthew, 191. - - Arthur, Prince, 131. - - Asquam, Lake, 229. - - Atlantic Monthly, 153, 189, 239. - - “At Her Bedside,” 199. - - Attleboro’, 122. - - “At the Beautiful Gate,” 173, 187. - - - Bacon, Francis, 91. - - Baker, Mrs. I. W., 32; - letter to, 38; - living with, 44. - - Barrett, Lois, 1. - - Bass River, 2. - - Beaufort, S. C., 112. - - Berkshire Hills, 237. - - Berlin Falls, 188, 227. - - Bermuda, 182. - - Bethel, 224, 227. - - Bethlehem, 227, 230. - - Betsy’s, Aunt, cucumbers, 32. - - Beverly, 1, 2; - life in, 43-46, 74, 113, 115, 133, 144, 153, 156, 170; - division of, 246; - love for, 252. - - Beverly Farms, 1. - - Blanchard, Dr. Amos, 13. - - Blue, Mount, 42. - - Bonnechose, de, 118. - - Boston, 123, 125, 156, 172, 246; - troops in, 89; - Harbor, 115. - - Boston Journal, 36. - - Bradford Academy, 172. - - Bradford, England, 190. - - “Breathings of the Better Life,” 159. - - Brooks, Rev. Phillips, 185, 207, 209, 225, 248, 252, 275; - letter on preaching, 185; - friendship for Lucy Larcom, 186; - letter on Lord’s Supper, 186; - preaching of, 207; - preaches on “Old Year,” 211; - preaches about Heaven, 214; - letter about church-membership, 220; - letter about “The Little Town of Bethlehem,” 232; - letter, 241; - invites all to Communion, 244; - letter, 250; - at Wheaton, 265; - elected Bishop, 268; - Consecration of, 274; - death of, 285. - - Brown, J. Appleton, 183. - - Brown of Ossawatomie, 81. - - Browning, 180, 278. - - Browning, Mrs., 159. - - Bushnell, Horace, 159. - - - Campton, 99, 152. - - Cape Ann, 166, 180. - - Carlyle, 70. - - Carter, Franklin, 153, 237; - letters to, 205, 281. - - Cary Sisters, The, 196. - - Centre Harbor, 227, 230. - - Chadwick, Rev. J. W., 174. - - Chasles, Philarète, 11. - - Chaucer’s Daisies, 167. - - Childs, G. W., 234, 236. - - Childs, Mrs., 118. - - Childhood Songs, 3, 176, 177. - - Child-Life, 3, 176, 177. - - Christian Union, 233, 285. - - Clough, Arthur, 258. - - Coleridge, 5, 54. - - Congregational Church, 55, 190, 201, 207, 242; - administration of Communion in, 245. - - Congregationalist, The, 233. - - Contrabands, 154. - - Conybeare, and Howson, Life of St. Paul, 116. - - Cook, Mrs., 196. - - Corinth, 144. - - Cottage Hearth, The, 233. - - Cousin, 70. - - Crayon, The, 63. - - Croswell, Dr., poems, 81. - - Curtiss, Hariot, 10. - - Cushman, Miss, 149. - - - Davis, Jeff, 102; - capture of, 157. - - Dickens, Charles, 8. - - Dickinson, Emily, 285. - - Digby, 224. - - District of Columbia, slavery in, 139. - - Dodge, Mrs. Mary Mapes, 177-178. - - Donelson, Fort, 124. - - Durand, John, 65; - letter to, 66. - - - Easter Gleams, 187. - - Elizabeth, Queen, 93. - - Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 125, 178, 278; - “Parnassus,” 186. - - England, 117, 190; - against slavery, 116. - - Episcopal Church, 11, 81, 187, 207, 209, 220, 243, 249, 284; - criticism of, 254-256; - little side of, 272. - - Essex County, 1, 193. - - Evangeline, 223. - - - Farley, Hariett, 10. - - Farrar, Canon, 226. - - Fichte, 128. - - Fields, James T., letter to, 148, 153, 159. - - Fields, Mrs. James T., 149; - letters to, 155, 160, 163, 178; - books loaned by, 156. - - Fitch, Mrs., 224. - - Florida, 130. - - Fobes, Miss P., 38; - letters to, 46, 47, 282. - - Forrester, Fanny, 175. - - Fox, George, journal of, 97, 106. - - Franconia Notch, 100, 151. - - Freeman, Miss, 247. - - Frémont, 111. - - French Acadians, 224. - - - Gannett’s, Dr., school, 172. - - Gardiner, Maine, 71. - - Garfield, Mrs., 210. - - Garfield, President, 191; - assassination of, 210. - - Garrison, W. L., 14. - - Gaspereau, 223. - - Gethsemane, 137. - - Gibbon, 118. - - Godfrey, Captain B., 37. - - “Golden-Rod,” 191. - - Gordon, Rev. Mr., 267. - - Grand Pré, 223. - - Great Britain, 166. - - Greenough, Mrs., 186. - - Greenwood, Grace, 175. - - Guild, Mrs., 236, 276. - - Gulliver’s Travels, 5. - - Guyon, Madame, 159. - - - “Hail Columbia,” 139. - - Halifax, 224. - - Hamilton, Gail, 157. - - Hammond, Wisconsin, 155. - - “Hand in Hand with Angels,” 173. - - Hannah, Aunt, 4. - - “Hannah Binding Shoes,” 63, 173, 179; - set to music, 65. - - Hare’s “Mission of the Comforter,” 54. - - Harper’s Magazine, 183, 233. - - Haskell, Mrs. Abby O., 29; - letter to, 42. - - Hatteras, Fort, 102. - - Hawthorne’s “Little Annie’s Ramble,” 176. - - “Heart of God,” The, 189. - - Hegel, 128. - - Herbert, George, 79, 159. - - Higginson, Mr., 197. - - “Hilary,” 153, 173. - - Hindoo, 112. - - Hopkins, Dr. Mark, 281. - - Horder, Rev. W. Garrett, 190, 196. - - Horticultural Association, 152. - - Howells, W. D., 189, 230. - - Humiston, Esther S., 54, 103, 135; - letters to, 54, 75; - dying, 91; - death, 92; - grave of, 136; - letters of, 138; - mother of, 142, 152. - - Hunter, Dr. John, 197. - - - “Idyl of Work,” 179, 190. - - “Immortal Now,” The, 285. - - Independent, The, 233. - - Ingelow, Jean, 174; - letter to, 165. - - Ipswich, 1; - Academy of, 172. - - Isles of Shoals, 166. - - Italy, 83, 108. - - - Jackson, H. H., 196. - - Jameson’s, Mrs., “Legends of the Madonna,” 79. - - - Kant, 128. - - Keble, 209, 215. - - Kennebec River, 74. - - Knickerbocker, The, 63; - letter to, 64. - - Koeppen, 83. - - - Lamb’s “Dream Children,” 176. - - Larcom, Mrs., 6, 262; - boarding-house of, 8; - death of, 171. - - Larcom, Benjamin, 1. - - Larcom, Cornelius, 1. - - Larcom, David, 1. - - Larcom, Jonathan, 1. - - Larcom, Lucy, birth, 1; - at school, 4; - love for hymns, 5; - books she read, 9; - writes for manuscript papers, 9; - working in Lowell mills, 11; - early religious ideas, 12; - signs petition to Congress, 14; - meets Mr. Whittier, 15; - book-keeper in Lawrence Mills, 15; - writing in prose sketch-book, 16; - writing poetry, 17; - goes to Illinois, 18; - diary of journey, 21-27; - in Maryland, 23; - At Pittsburgh, 25; - at St. Louis, 26; - lives on Looking-glass Prairie, 27; - hardships in school-teaching, 28; - letters to sisters, Abby and Lydia, 29; - examined for position as teacher, 31; - sick with “agey,” 33; - enters Monticello, 38; - life at Monticello, 39-43; - debating society, 40; - compositions, 41; - engagement, 43; - teaching in Beverly, 44-46; - enters Wheaton Seminary, 46-47; - room at Norton, 48; - love for flowers, 49; - knitting stockings for soldiers, 49; - power as a teacher, 49-53; - lecture on Anglo-Saxon Poetry, 49; - lecture on compositions, 50; - in the class-room, 50; - founding the “Rushlight,” and Psyche Literary Society, 50-51; - called “Mother Larcom,” 51; - letter on death, 52; - girl’s love affairs, 52; - scholar’s love for her, 52; - friendship for Miss Humiston, 54-57; - ideas about church-membership, and doctrines, 55-57; - leaves Norton, 57; - reasons for not marrying, 57-59; - publishes “Similitudes,” 61; - wins Kansas prize song, 62; - publishes Lottie’s Thought-book, 62; - prints “Hannah Binding Shoes,” 63; - writes to New York Tribune, 64; - letter to John Durand, 65; - unsuccessful attempt to print a volume of verse, 66; - submits verses to Mr. Whittier for criticism, 68; - diary, 69-147; - thoughts on mystics, 70; - thoughts on “The Sabbath,” 74; - reasons for keeping a diary, 75; - remarks on ministers, 76-77; - reads “Wilhelm Meister,” 78; - depression of spirits, 84; - thoughts on eternal life and death, 85; - gifts on her birthday, 86; - unpleasant sermon on Satan, 88; - remarks on friendship, 93; - visits the Webster place, 96; - visits Plymouth, 96; - visits the Whittiers, 98; - love for mountains, 100; - on the Rebellion, 101; - concerning her diary, 103; - concerning gossip, 110; - on child’s knowledge of the Bible, 120; - sleigh-ride to Attleboro’, 122; - on Sarah Paine’s death, 128; - hears Emerson, 125; - education of nieces, 127; - religious talks with scholars, 129; - introspection, 132; - thoughts on the resurrection, 133; - love for the Whittiers, 135; - singing around Liberty Pole, 139; - prays for C----, 140; - skeptical, 141; - school trials, 141; - death of C----, 144; - visits Andover, 145; - letter to Mr. Fields, enclosing poem, 149; - letter to Whittier about the mountains, 150; - gives up teaching at Wheaton, 152; - home in Waterbury, 152; - writes for the Atlantic, 153; - letter about death of her sister Louisa, 155; - edits “Our Young Folks,” 157; - publishes “Breathings of the Better Life,” 159; - letters to Mrs. James T. Fields, 159-163; - letter to Mrs. Thaxter, 163; - letter to Miss Ingelow, 165; - letter to Mr. Whittier about her mother’s illness, 170; - publishes “Poems,” 173; - name of, 175; - work with Mr. Whittier, 175; - letters to Mrs. Dodge, 177; - publishes “An Idyl of Work,” 179; - prints “Roadside Poems,” 180; - letter on Romans, 181; - visits Bermuda, 182; - prints “Landscape in American Poetry,” 183; - letter to Mrs. Wheaton, 183; - present at breakfast to Dr. Holmes, 184; - first meeting with Phillips Brooks, 185; - prints “Wild Roses of Cape Ann,” 187; - letter to Mr. Pickard, 188; - criticism of her poetry, 189-198; - letter to Dr. Hunter, 197; - religious changes, 200; - letter to Franklin Carter, 205; - learns to know the Episcopal Church, 107-120; - opinion of faith-cure, 212; - reads Renan, 216; - letter from Nova Scotia, 223; - letter to Phillips Brooks, 225; - summer homes of, 227; - on Theosophy, 231; - conversation with Mr. Whittier about finances, 233; - visits President Carter, 237; - prints “A New England Girlhood,” 238; - communes at Trinity Church, 244; - confirmed, 252; - converses with Mr. Brooks, 269-270; - illness of, 280-281; - letter to Miss Fobes, 282; - last letter to Phillips Brooks, 285; - on the death of Mr. Brooks, 287; - death of, 289; - burial of, 290. - - Larcom, Mordecai, 1. - - Lavater, 119. - - Lawrence Mills, 15. - - Lazarus, Emma, 259. - - Lebanon, 31. - - Lee, surrender of, 156. - - Leigh, Miss, 247. - - Liberty Pole, 139. - - Lincoln, Abraham, 191; - assassination of, 156. - - Longfellow, H. W., 80, 166, 179, 180, 196; - letter to Miss Larcom, 198; - death of, 220. - - Longfellow, Rev. Samuel, 65. - - Lowell, mills in, 6; - lyceum of, 8; - poem on, 179; - article in Atlantic Monthly on, 239. - - Lowell, Francis Cabot, 7. - - Lowell, J. R., 180. - - Lowell, Maria, 196. - - Lowell Offering, 10. - - “Loyal Woman’s No,” 58, 153. - - - Maine, 226. - - Maintenon, Madame de, 93. - - Manassas, 130. - - Mansel, Dean, 75. - - Martineau, Dr., 196. - - Mason and Slidell, 115. - - Maurice, 70, 75, 76, 209, 294, 298, 265. - - Maury’s Physical Geography, 91. - - Melrose, 219. - - Memphis, 144. - - Merrimac, 99, 101, 130, 139; - sinking of, 154. - - Middlesex Standard, 15. - - Milton, 194, 259. - - Milton Hills, 109. - - Mississippi, 167. - - Missouri, 124. - - “Monitor,” 130. - - Monticello, 238, 283; - prospectus of, 37. - - Moosilauke, 227, 263, 272, 277. - - Morris’ Poems, 75. - - Moultrie, Fort, 81. - - Müller, Max, 210. - - “My Mountain,” 192. - - Myrtle, Minnie, 175. - - - Neander’s “History of the Church,” 116, 118, 218. - - Neck-woods, 123. - - Newburyport, 179. - - New England Emigrant Aid Co., 62. - - “New England Girlhood,” 2, 238, 250. - - New Hampshire, 105, 168, 226. - - New York Tribune, The, 63, 64. - - Norfolk, 130, 139. - - North Carolina, 124. - - Norton, Mass., 53, 57, 105, 115, 153, 172, 183. - - Notch Mountains, 151, 168, 227. - - Nova Scotia, 224. - - - Olivet, 137. - - “On the Beach,” 191. - - Operatives’ Magazine, 10. - - Osgood & Co., 179. - - Ossipee Park, 227, 230, 279. - - “Our Christ,” 190. - - Our Young Folks, 3, 157, 172, 176. - - - Paine, Sarah, 123. - - Park, Professor, 145. - - Parker, Theodore, 71. - - Passion Week, 243, 266. - - Paula, 93. - - Pembroke, 98. - - Pemigewasset, 99, 168. - - Pilgrims, 80, 165, 167. - - Pilgrim’s Progress, 5. - - Pitman, Harriet, 171, 178. - - “Phebe,” 189. - - Phelps, Prof., 145. - - Phillips, Adelaide, 65. - - Plato, 119, 297, 236; - reading, 54; - teaching, 118. - - Plymouth, 96. - - “Poems,” 173, 174. - - Portland Transcript, 227. - - Potomac, 111. - - Prairie sleigh-ride, A, 36. - - Psyche Literary Society, 50. - - Puritans, 107, 113, 201, 150. - - - Quaker, 97, 135; - worship of, 98; - contrast with Puritan, 107. - - Quaker Home, 234. - - - Readville, 109. - - Renan, 216. - - Richter, Jean Paul, 16. - - “Roadside Poems,” 180. - - Robertson, F. W., 138, 159, 160, 203, 209, 266. - - “Rose Enthroned,” The, 154, 192. - - Rossetti, W. M., 197. - - Rushlight, The, 50. - - Ruskin, 75. - - Russell, John, 227. - - - “Sabbath Bells,” 15. - - Saddle-back, 72. - - Schelling, 128. - - Scott, Sir Walter, 5. - - Sears’ “Foregleams and Foreshadows,” 54. - - Shakespeare, 118, 149, 194. - - “Shared,” 189. - - Shelley, 180. - - “Similitudes,” 61. - - “Skipper Ben,” 65, 173. - - Smith, John Cotton, 215. - - Spalding, Mrs. S. I., 179, 230; - letters to, 181, 187, 193, 240, 250, 271. - - Spaulding, George, 33, 36. - - Spaulding, Lucy Larcom, 289. - - Spenser, 5, 191. - - Socrates, 217. - - Solis-Cohen, Dr. S., 260. - - “Songs of Three Centuries,” 259, 279. - - South Carolina, 81. - - Southey, 5. - - St. Ann’s Church, Lowell, 14, 207. - - St. Nicholas, 3, 157, 177, 178, 233. - - St. Peter’s Church, Beverly, 290. - - Standish, Miles, 97. - - Stanley, Aunt, 4. - - Stedman, Mr., 93. - - Stephen, Sir James, 118. - - Stone, Dr., 215. - - Stone, Lucy, 46. - - Stowe, Harriet Beecher, 146. - - Stowe, Prof., 145. - - Sumatra, 133. - - Sumner, Charles, 108. - - Swedenborg, 54, 119. - - Switzerland, 168. - - - Tauler’s Sermons, 54. - - Taunton, 90. - - Tennyson, 278. - - Thanksgiving, A, 174, 194. - - Thaxter, Mrs. Celia, 163. - - Thayer, Prof., 178. - - “The Chamber Called Peace,” 173. - - Tholuck, 159. - - Thomas, Rev. Abel C., 10. - - Thorndike, Colonel, 2. - - Trinity Church, 207, 226, 252; - free seats in, 208; - services at, 209; - passing of old year at, 211. - - Trowbridge, 157. - - - Unitarianism, 112, 215. - - Universalists, 56. - - Unseen Friend, The, 283. - - “Unwedded,” 59. - - - Vincent, Henry, 179. - - - Walker’s Rhyming Dictionary, 18. - - Wallace Lane, 2. - - Wallis, Becky, 32. - - Ward, Susan Hayes, 238; - letters to, 53, 222. - - Waterbury, Conn., 54, 152. - - Waterville, 100. - - Webster, Daniel, 96. - - Wellesley College, 247. - - Wheaton, Judge, 46. - - Wheaton, Mrs. E. B., 183. - - Wheaton Seminary, 46, 152, 172, 238, 265. - - White Face, 192. - - White Mountains, 168. - - White, Richard Grant, 197. - - White, Sunday, A, 174. - - Whitney, Mrs. A. D. T., 184, 239. - - Whittier, Elizabeth, 15, 67, 80, 98, 137, 151, 154, 191. - - Whittier, John G., 66, 98, 134, 163, 179, 185, 232; - first meeting with Miss Larcom, 15; - friendship for Miss Larcom, 66; - letter to Lucy Larcom, 67; - “Home Ballads,” 80; - “Panorama,” 80; - letters to, 150, 170, 180, 223, 230, 275, 276; - rhymed note of, 161; - at Isles of Shoals, 166; - collaboration with Miss Larcom, 175; - letter to Lucy Larcom, 176; - criticism of her poetry, 193; - letter to O. W. Holmes, 198; - visit of, 218; - poem, “Wood-Giant,” 230; - on Bishop Brooks, 271; - death of, 277. - - Wide Awake, 233. - - Wilberforce, Canon, 247. - - “Wild Roses of Cape Ann,” 187, 188. - - Williams College, 153, 205. - - Williamstown, 237. - - Winnipiseogee, 98, 168. - - Winter, William, 185. - - Wolfboro’, 229. - - Woodberry, George E., 257, 258. - - Wordsworth, 5, 180. - - - Year in Heaven, A, 173. - - Youth’s Companion, 3. - - - - -FOOTNOTES: - - -[1] _An Idyl of Work_, p. 34. - -[2] _An Idyl of Work_, p. 69. - -[3] _An Idyl of Work_, p. 74. - -[4] _Ibid_, p. 136. - -[5] _Similitudes._ - -[6] Elizabeth Whittier. - -[7] _Wild Roses of Cape Ann._ - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - -Text in italics is surrounded with underscores: _italics_. - -Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - -Archaic spelling that may have been used at the time of publication has - been preserved. - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary, by -Daniel Dulany Addison - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LUCY LARCOM: LIFE, LETTERS *** - -***** This file should be named 55751-0.txt or 55751-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/7/5/55751/ - -Produced by David E. 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