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diff --git a/old/55751-h/55751-h.htm b/old/55751-h/55751-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index e591ca6..0000000 --- a/old/55751-h/55751-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12309 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary, by Daniel Dulany Addison. - </title> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -ht.tiny {width: 25%; margin-left: 37.5%; margin-right: 37.5%;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; -} - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 15%; - margin-right: 15%; -} - -.bbox {border: solid 2px; padding-left: 2em; padding-right: 2em;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.gap {padding-left: 6em;} - -.indent {padding-left: 1.5em;} - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -a {text-decoration: none;} - -.footnote {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} - -.footnote .label {text-indent: 5em;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: - none; -} - -.poetry-container {text-align: center;} -.poetry {display: inline-block; text-align: left;} -.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} -.poetry .verse {text-indent: -2.5em; padding-left: 3em;} -.poetry .indent {text-indent: 0em} -.poetry .indent3 {text-indent: 4em} -.poetry .indent4 {text-indent: 7.5em} -.poetry .indent5 {text-indent: 5em} -.poetry .indent6 {text-indent: 8.5em} -.poetry .indent7 {text-indent: 14em} - -div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;} -div.titlepage p {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 3em;} -.topspace {margin-top: 3em;} - -.ph1 {text-align: center; font-size: xx-large; font-weight: bold;} -.ph2 {text-align: center; font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;} -.ph3 {text-align: center; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;} - -.hangingindent { - padding-left: 22px ; - text-indent: -22px ; -} - -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -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: ISO-8859-1 - -*** 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) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="transnote"> - -<p class="ph3">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> - - -<p>The cover image has been created from the Title Page of the original and is entered into the public domain.</p> - -<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> - -<p>Archaic spelling that may have been used at the time of publication has been preserved.</p> - -</div> - - - -<div class="blockquot"> -<div class="bbox"> - -<p class="ph2">Miss Larcom’s Books.</p> - - -<p class="hangingindent">POETICAL WORKS. <i>Household Edition.</i> With -Portrait, 12mo, $1.50; full gilt, $2.00.</p> - -<p class="hangingindent">POEMS. 16mo, $1.25.</p> - -<p class="hangingindent">AN IDYL OF WORK. 16mo, $1.25.</p> - -<p class="hangingindent">WILD ROSES OF CAPE ANN, AND OTHER POEMS. -16mo, gilt top, $1.25.</p> - -<p class="hangingindent">CHILDHOOD SONGS. Illustrated, 12mo, $1.00.</p> - -<p class="hangingindent">EASTER GLEAMS. Poems. 16mo, parchment -paper, 75 cents.</p> - -<p class="hangingindent">AS IT IS IN HEAVEN. 16mo, $1.00.</p> - -<p class="hangingindent">AT THE BEAUTIFUL GATE, <span class="smcap">and other Songs -of Faith</span>. 16mo, $1.00.</p> - -<p class="hangingindent">THE UNSEEN FRIEND. 16mo, $1.00.</p> - -<p class="hangingindent">A NEW ENGLAND GIRLHOOD, outlined from -Memory. In Riverside Library for Young People. -16mo, 75 cents.</p> - -<p class="hangingindent"><i>Holiday Edition.</i> 16mo, $1.25.</p> - -<p class="hangingindent">BREATHINGS OF THE BETTER LIFE. Edited by -<span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>. 18mo, $1.25.</p> - -<p class="hangingindent">ROADSIDE POEMS FOR SUMMER TRAVELLERS. -Selected by <span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>. 18mo, $1.00.</p> - -<p class="hangingindent">HILLSIDE AND SEASIDE IN POETRY. Selected -by <span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>. 18mo, $1.00.</p> - -<p class="hangingindent">BECKONINGS FOR EVERY DAY. A Collection of -Quotations for each day in the year. Compiled by -<span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>. 16mo, $1.00.</p> - -<p class="center">HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY,<br /> -<span class="smcap">Boston and New York</span>.</p> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_003.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>LUCY LARCOM<br /> -LIFE, LETTERS, AND DIARY</h1> - -<p><small>BY</small><br /> -DANIEL DULANY ADDISON</p> - -<div class="topspace"> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/title_page.jpg" alt="" /></div></div> - -<p>BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br /> -HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY<br /> -The Riverside Press, Cambridge<br /> -1895</p> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="center">Copyright, 1894,<br /> -<span class="smcap">By</span> DANIEL DULANY ADDISON.<br /> -<br /> -<i>All rights reserved.</i><br /> -<br /> -<i>The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A.</i><br /> -Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak"> -PREFACE</h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She was a prophetess to her generation, singing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p class="right">DANIEL DULANY ADDISON.</p> -<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">Beverly, Mass.</span>, June 19, 1894.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS.</h2></div> - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> -<tr><td align="right"><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td> </td><td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">I.</td><td><span class="smcap">Early Days. 1824-1846</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">II.</td><td><span class="smcap">In Illinois. 1846-1852</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">III.</td><td><span class="smcap">Life at Norton. 1853-1859</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">IV.</td><td><span class="smcap">Reflections of a Teacher</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">V.</td><td><span class="smcap">The Beginning of the War</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">VI.</td><td><span class="smcap">Intellectual Experiences</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">VII.</td><td><span class="smcap">Letters and Work. 1861-1868</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">VIII.</td><td><span class="smcap">Writings and Letters. 1868-1880</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">IX.</td><td><span class="smcap">Religious Changes. 1881-1884</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">X.</td><td><span class="smcap">Undercurrents. 1884-1889</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XI.</td><td><span class="smcap">Membership in the Episcopal Church</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_242">242</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XII.</td><td><span class="smcap">Last Years</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td><td><span class="smcap">Index</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="ph1">LUCY LARCOM.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I.</h2></div> - -<p class="ph3">EARLY DAYS.<br /> - -1824-1846.</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span> 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>In her poems there are numerous references to -the town:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Steady we’ll scud by the Cape Ann shore,</div> -<div class="verse">Then back to the Beverly Bells once more.</div> -<div class="indent3">The Beverly Bells</div> -<div class="verse">Ring to the tide as it ebbs and swells.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>In another place she says:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="indent4">“The gleam of</div> -<div class="verse">Thacher’s Isle, twin-beaconed, winking back</div> -<div class="verse">To twinkling sister-eyes of Baker’s Isle.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:—</p> - - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> -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.’”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> -college or making money enough to continue their -education, or to aid dear ones who had been left -suddenly without support:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Not always to be here among the looms,—</div> -<div class="verse">Scarcely a girl she knew expected that;</div> -<div class="verse">Means to one end, their labor was,—to put</div> -<div class="verse">Gold nest-eggs in the bank, or to redeem</div> -<div class="verse">A mortgaged homestead, or to pay the way</div> -<div class="verse">Through classic years at some academy;</div> -<div class="verse">More commonly to lay a dowry by</div> -<div class="verse">For future housekeeping.”<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></div> -</div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Larcom kept a boarding-house for the operatives,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Our Diving Bell shall deep descend,</div> -<div class="indent">And bring from the immortal mind</div> -<div class="verse">Thoughts that to improve us tend,</div> -<div class="indent">Of each variety and kind.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“I sit at my window and gaze</div> -<div class="indent">At the scenery lovely around,</div> -<div class="verse">On the water, the grass, and the trees,</div> -<div class="indent">And I hear the brook’s murmuring sound.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“The bird warbles forth his soft lays,</div> -<div class="indent">And I smell the sweet fragrance of flowers,</div> -<div class="verse">I hear the low hum of the bees,</div> -<div class="indent">As they busily pass the long hours.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“These pleasures were given to man</div> -<div class="indent">To bring him more near to his God,</div> -<div class="verse">Then let me praise God all I can,</div> -<div class="indent">Until I am laid ’neath the sod.”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>During these years of mill-work she formed some -of the ruling ideas of her life, those that we can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="indent5">“Oh, what questionings</div> -<div class="verse">Of fate, and freedom, and how evil came,</div> -<div class="verse">And what death is, and what the life to come,—</div> -<div class="verse">Passed to and fro among these girls!”<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></div> -</div></div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="indent6">“That long prayer</div> -<div class="verse">Was like a toilsome journey round the world,</div> -<div class="verse">By Cathay and the Mountains of the Moon,</div> -<div class="verse">To come at our own door-stone, where He stood</div> -<div class="verse">Waiting to speak to us, the Father dear,</div> -<div class="verse">Who is not far from any one of us.”<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></div> -</div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="verse">“When I have thought what soil the cotton plant</div> -<div class="verse">We weave is rooted in, what waters it—</div> -<div class="verse">The blood of souls in bondage—I have felt</div> -<div class="verse">That I was sinning against light, to stay</div> -<div class="verse">And turn the accursèd fibre into cloth</div> -<div class="verse">For human wearing. I have hailed one name—</div> -<div class="verse">You know it—‘Garrison’—as a soul might hail</div> -<div class="verse">His soul’s deliverer.”<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></div> -</div></div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> -years later, she was nursing the spark that during -the Civil War blew into a flame.</p> - -<p>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:”—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="verse">“List! a faint, a far-off chime!</div> -<div class="verse">’Tis the knell of holy time,</div> -<div class="verse">Chiming from the city’s spires,</div> -<div class="verse">From the hamlet’s altar fires,</div> -<div class="verse">Waking woods and lonely dells,</div> -<div class="verse">Pleasant are the Sabbath bells.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> -and writing many of the poems that appeared in -the “Offering.”</p> - -<p>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:”—</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“‘This is a miserable world,’ said one. ‘The -black shroud of sorrow overhangs everything here.’</p> - -<p>“‘Not so,’ replied the other. ‘Sorrow is not a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> -shroud; it is only the covering Hope wraps about -her when she sleeps.’</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“‘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.’”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> -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—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="verse">“Bury me not where the breezes are sighing</div> -<div class="verse">O’er those whom I loved in my innocent days.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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,”—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="verse">“When I read old Peter Parley,</div> -<div class="indent">Like a bookworm, through and through,</div> -<div class="verse">Vainly shunned I Lindley Murray,</div> -<div class="indent">And dull Colburn’s ‘Two and Two.’”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="verse">“Farewell to thee, New England!</div> -<div class="indent">Thou mother, whose kind arm</div> -<div class="verse">Hath e’er been circled round me,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></div> -<div class="indent">The stern and yet the warm.</div> -<div class="verse">Farewell! thou little village,</div> -<div class="indent">My birthplace and my home,</div> -<div class="verse">Along whose rocky border</div> -<div class="indent">The morning surges come.</div> -<div class="verse">Thy name shall memory echo,</div> -<div class="indent">As exiled shell its wave.</div> -<div class="verse">Art thou my home no longer?</div> -<div class="indent">Still keep for me a grave.”</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II.</h2></div> - -<p class="ph3">IN ILLINOIS.<br /> - -1846-1852.</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">A journey</span> 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.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>Came into Baltimore between ten and eleven.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> -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 <i>little</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>23d. Played chess, forenoon. Came to the -north of the bend about ten. Went on deck to see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> -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.</p></blockquote> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>Her letters to Beverly were brimful of fun;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> -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.</p> - - - -<p class="center">TO MRS. ABBY O. HASKELL.</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Looking-Glass Prairie</span>, May 19, 1846.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Sister Abby</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>side</i> 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;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> -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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Lucy.</span></p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p class="center">TO MRS. I. W. BAKER.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Looking-Glass Prairie</span>, June 9, 1846.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Sister</span>,—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>i. e.</i>, “to sit on,” don’t -tell the whole story now.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> -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!”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> -been an artist, if circumstances had only developed -my natural genius? All send love. Your everlasting -sister,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy</span>.</p> - - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>In spite of cares and unpoetical methods of -living, her pen was not idle. She wrote of the -little prairie rose:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="verse">“Flowers around are thick and bright,</div> -<div class="verse">The purple phlox and orchis white,</div> -<div class="verse">The orange lily, iris blue,</div> -<div class="verse">And painted cups of flaming hue.</div> -<div class="indent">Not one among them grows,</div> -<div class="indent">So lovely as the little prairie rose.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>The spirit of a jolly ride over the snow she -caught in some lines called “A Prairie Sleigh-Ride:”—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="verse">“Away o’er the prairies, the wide and the free,</div> -<div class="verse">Away o’er the glistening prairies with me;</div> -<div class="verse">The last glance of day lights a blush on the snow,</div> -<div class="verse">While away through the twilight our merry steeds go.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>She also felt the awe inspired by the silence and -immensity of the land, with the blue heavens arching -over.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="verse">“But in its solemn silence,</div> -<div class="verse">Father, we feel thou art</div> -<div class="verse">Filling alike this boundless sea,</div> -<div class="verse">And every humble heart.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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, <i>substantial</i>, <i>extensive</i> -and <i>practical</i>,—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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> -for a sum less than one hundred dollars, in a situation -so healthful that there “had never been a -death in the institution.”</p> - -<blockquote> - - -<p class="center">TO MRS. I. W. BAKER.</p> - - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Woodburn</span>, November 23, 1848.</p> - -<p>... 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....</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>There was one subject she could not master,—mathematics:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> -“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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>There were also compositions to be written. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> -<blockquote> - - -<p class="center">TO MRS. ABBY O. HASKELL.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Monticello Seminary</span>, May 14th, 1850.</p> - -<p>... 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.</p> - -<p>I think it must be a mistake about my having -improved so <i>very</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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.”...</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.’”</p> - -<p>To her sister Lydia, whose birthday was on the -same day of the month as her own, she sent some -verses recalling her childhood.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“In childhood we looked gayly out,</div> -<div class="indent">To see this blustering dawn begin</div> -<div class="verse">And hailed the wind whose noisy shout</div> -<div class="indent">Our mutual birthday ushered in.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“For cakes, beneath our pillow rolled,</div> -<div class="indent">We laughing searched, and wondered, too,</div> -<div class="verse">How mother had so well foretold</div> -<div class="indent">What fairy people meant to do.”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III.</h2></div> - -<p class="ph3">LIFE AT NORTON.<br /> - -1853-1859.</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> 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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="verse">“The fragrance Sarah would inhale</div> -<div class="verse">Is the lily of the vale:</div> -<div class="verse">‘Humility,’ it whispers low;</div> -<div class="verse">Ah! let that gentle breathing flow</div> -<div class="verse">Deep within, and then will you</div> -<div class="verse">Be a lily of the valley too.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>Her spirit on entering upon this new work, is -indicated by this letter:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">TO MISS P. FOBES.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Wheaton Seminary, Norton, Mass.</span>,<br /> -January 10, 1855.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Miss Fobes</span>:—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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="right">Yours truly,<span class="gap"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span></span>.</p> - - -</blockquote> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> -retreat, she saw Miss Larcom quietly sitting in a -rocking-chair, knitting stockings for the soldiers, -during the War.</p> - -<p>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:—</p> - - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> -our elder brethren of Angle-land, in the childhood -of civilization.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>When death invaded a home, she knew how to -write:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Norton</span>, October 7, 1855.</p> - -<p>... 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> -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....</p> - -</blockquote> - -<p>The following letter shows her intimacy with the -girls:—</p> - -<blockquote> - - -<p class="center">TO MISS SUSAN HAYES WARD.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Norton</span>, April 2, 1855.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Susie</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>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....</p> - - - -</blockquote> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">TO ESTHER S. HUMISTON.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly, Mass.</span>, August 2d, 1858.</p> - -<p>... 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> -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....</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - - - -<p class="center">TO THE SAME.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Norton</span>, September 2, 1860.</p> - -<p>... 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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> -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....</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> -public expression in her noted poem, “A Loyal -Woman’s No,” an energetic refusal of a loyal -woman to a lover who upheld slavery:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="verse">“Not yours,—because you are not man enough</div> -<div class="indent">To grasp your country’s measure of a man,</div> -<div class="verse">If such as you, when Freedom’s ways are rough,</div> -<div class="indent">Cannot walk in them,—learn that women can!”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">TO ESTHER S. HUMISTON.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Norton</span>, June 1, 1858.</p> - -<p>... 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 (<i>the</i> is the word I should have used)<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> -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....</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“And here is a woman who understood</div> -<div class="indent">Herself, her work, and God’s will with her,</div> -<div class="verse">To gather and scatter His sheaves of good,</div> -<div class="indent">And was meekly thankful, though men demur.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Would she have walked more nobly, think,</div> -<div class="indent">With a man beside her, to point the way,</div> -<div class="verse">Hand joining hand in the marriage link?</div> -<div class="indent">Possibly, Yes: it is likelier, Nay.”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<blockquote> -<hr class="tiny" /> -<p class="center">TO MISS ESTHER S. HUMISTON.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Norton</span>, January 15, 1859.</p> - -<p>... 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> -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 <i>logical</i>. 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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>too</i> 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.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - - - -<p class="center">TO THE SAME.</p> - - -<p class="right">Sabbath evening.</p> - -<p>... 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> -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 <i>everythings</i>. I am convinced that I have -too much head-employment altogether; I get hardly -breathing time for heart and home life....</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>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.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Yeomen strong, hither throng,</div> -<div class="indent">Nature’s honest men;</div> -<div class="verse">We will make the wilderness</div> -<div class="indent">Bud and bloom again;</div> -<div class="verse">Bring the sickle, speed the plough,</div> -<div class="indent">Turn the ready soil;</div> -<div class="verse">Freedom is the noblest pay</div> -<div class="indent">For a true man’s toil.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">“Ho, brothers! come, brothers!</div> -<div class="indent">Hasten all with me;</div> -<div class="verse">We’ll sing upon the Kansas plains</div> -<div class="indent">A song of liberty.”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Norton. Mass.</span>, February 13, 1858.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">To the Editor of the New York Tribune</span>:</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>I hereby reclaim from “Old Nick,” my “stolen -goods,” which he has inadvertently advertised.</p> - -<p class="right">Yours truly,<span class="gap"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</span></p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>She also wrote an explanation to Mr. John Durand, -the editor of “The Crayon.”</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">TO JOHN DURAND.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Norton</span>, February 12, 1858.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Durand</span>,—“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.</p> - -<p class="right">Yours truly,<span class="gap"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</span></p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">TO JOHN DURAND.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Norton</span>, October 29, 1860.</p> - -<p>... 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....</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>Here is a letter to her, from Mr. Whittier, as -early as 1853.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="right">September 3, 1853.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Friend</span>,—I thank thee for thy note. -The personal allusion would be flattering enough,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>I am anxious to see thy little book in print.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> -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.</p> - -<p class="right">Thy friend,<span class="gap"><span class="smcap">J. G. Whittier</span>.</span></p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV.</h2></div> - -<p class="ph3">REFLECTIONS OF A TEACHER.</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> -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 -<i>like</i> a paradise, if not one, recalling ever the old -words of the hymn:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="verse">“Sweet fields arrayed in living green,</div> -<div class="indent">And rivers of delight.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>rest</i> 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 <i>quiet</i> of the day.</p> - -<p>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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>I don’t believe we can look upon our ministers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> -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 <i>business</i>.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p class="center">“Whose window opened towards the rising sun.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>Wilhelm</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="verse">“No spring nor summer beauty has such grace</div> -<div class="verse">As I have seen in an Autumnal face.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> -kindness of the Whitefield poem, in which he has -preserved the memory of a Sabbath evening walk -I took with him.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> -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.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V.</h2></div> - -<p class="ph3">THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR.</p> - - -<blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">January</span> 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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>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 <i>is</i> glorious beyond -all our possible imaginations,—the eternal life,—the -“glory that shall be revealed” in us.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>duration</i> 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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>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?</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Yesterday was the inauguration: we have a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>endlessness</i> 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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> -festooned their shops with the richest goods of the -national colors.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> -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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> -glorious life and death, and of which He is now -the inspiring power. “We are complete in Him.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>Such friendship is possible, is eternal; and it is -almost the most precious thing in the soul’s inheritance.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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!”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>August 2. I visited Plymouth, placed my foot<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> -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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>seems</i> a very little -trouble (or would, if told another), should be so -oppressive.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> -weeks ago, I was saying over to myself, every day, -as if it were a new thought, Keble’s lines,—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="verse">“New treasures still, of countless price,</div> -<div class="verse">God will provide for sacrifice.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>Yes, I will make my work my friend. My trials,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Let us say we are struggling to put down slavery, -and we shall be strong.</p> - -<p>October 8. Yesterday two letters came to me, -each from a friend I have never seen, yet each with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> -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! <i>Life</i> is a better word for this universal -bond than <i>religion</i>. 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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> -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 <i>ideas</i>, by <i>the</i> 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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>What is the meaning of “gossip?” Doesn’t it -originate with sympathy, an interest in one’s neighbor,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> -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?</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>November 14. The best news for us since the -war began has come within a day or two; and it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="verse">“Oh! if our souls were but half as white</div> -<div class="verse">As the beautiful snow that fell last night!”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>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, <i>once in a while</i>; -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>How ashamed one is obliged to be just now -of the “mother country”! <i>Step-mother Country</i> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VI.</h2></div> - -<p class="ph3">INTELLECTUAL EXPERIENCES.</p> - - -<blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">January</span> 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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>February 13. I had decided to go to her funeral, -and went to Boston for the purpose, but a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> -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 <i>is</i> 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 “<i>was</i>” -the wrong word to use, in speaking of her; she <i>is</i> -my friend still, and the light of her new life will -enter into mine.</p> - -<p>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 <i>home</i> is with the beloved.</p> - -<p>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 <i>such</i> a price of blood!</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“<i>Hitch</i> 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>me</i> 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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>I have plans floating in my mind for the education -of my nieces. I could not afford to have them -<i>here</i> without a salary much increased.</p> - -<p>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 <i>led</i> into the way I -ought to take; may it be so still!</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>March 5. My birthday,—and I am as much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> -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 <i>was</i> 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 <i>life</i>.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> -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 <i>must</i> 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?</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>I have learned to live with a trusting heart and -a willing hand from day to day, and I have not a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> -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 <i>home</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>And this is not the only one I know, for whom -all human efforts <i>seem</i> 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.</p> - -<p>With poor little Prince Arthur, I can sometimes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> -say heartily, “Would I were out of prison, and -kept sheep.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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; <i>more</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>her</i> 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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>It is strange, but I seem to know her more <i>humanly</i> -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.</p> - -<p>May 10. Heaven is a <i>place</i>, 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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>I</i> never could have -spoken; and yet it <i>is</i> genuine. Oh, if it might -unloose more hearts and tongues!</p> - -<p>May 23.... I am so glad to be <i>needed</i>, as I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 -<i>would</i> 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> -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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>... 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>... 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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>But to think of the thousands of homes that this -war has desolated, the thousands of hearts well-nigh -broken! Is it not enough?</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Saturday I spent at Amesbury; it was not quite -like other visits, for two other visitors were there;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> -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 <i>government</i> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VII.</h2></div> - -<p class="ph3">LETTERS AND WORK.<br /> - -1861-1868.</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> 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:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Norton</span>, April 4, 1861.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Fields</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>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 -Cœlian Hill, and it brings back so many pleasant -reminiscences of those few hours among the treasures<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 -<i>rôles</i>, and now more than ever, since I have seen -her as a noble woman.</p> - -<p>What a wonderful statue that “Lotus Eater” -is! I was never so “carried away” with anything -in marble!</p> - -<p>With remembrances to Mrs. Fields,</p> - -<p class="center">Gratefully yours,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>This poem was enclosed in the above letter:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indent">Was it a dream</div> -<div class="verse">Or waking vision of the gracious night?</div> -<div class="verse">Did I on that enchanted isle alight,</div> -<div class="verse">Aye blossoming in Shakespeare’s line,</div> -<div class="verse">With forms and melodies divine,—</div> -<div class="indent">Where all things seem</div> -<div class="verse">Ancient yet ever new beneath the hand</div> -<div class="verse">Of Prospero and his aërial band?</div> -<div class="indent">At every turn a change<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></div> -<div class="indent">To something rich and strange,—</div> -<div class="verse">Embodied shapes of poets’ fantasies:</div> -<div class="indent">Glimpses of ruins old</div> -<div class="verse">Slow fading from the blue Italian skies;</div> -<div class="indent">And runes of wizards bold;</div> -<div class="indent">Or beautiful or quaint</div> -<div class="verse">Memorials of bard, and sage, and saint,</div> -<div class="indent">In many an antique tome.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">There was some necromancy in the place:</div> -<div class="verse">The air was full of voices wondrous sweet;</div> -<div class="verse">Crowned shadows of past ages came to greet</div> -<div class="verse">Their living peers, who lately lent new grace</div> -<div class="indent">To genius-haunted Rome;</div> -<div class="verse">And when the lady of the grotto spoke,</div> -<div class="verse">’Twas like Miranda, when at first she woke</div> -<div class="verse">To Love, lighting the wild sea with her smile</div> -<div class="verse">Star of her beautiful and haunted isle;</div> -<div class="indent">And the magician, who</div> -<div class="verse">Such harmony and beauty round him drew,—</div> -<div class="verse">He was her Ariel and Ferdinand</div> -<div class="indent">Blended in one,</div> -<div class="verse">And heir to Prosper’s wonder-working wand.</div> -<div class="indent">He charmed the sprites of power</div> -<div class="indent">For one familiar hour,</div> -<div class="verse">And Story-land and Dream-land deftly won</div> -<div class="verse">To his home-nook the moonlit stream beside:</div> -<div class="indent">Hushed and apart</div> -<div class="indent">Though in the city’s heart,</div> -<div class="verse">There dwell they long, the poet and his bride!</div> -</div></div></div> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">TO J. G. WHITTIER.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Norton</span>, Mass., September 8, 1861.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But everything has wearied me this summer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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....</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> -opened the way for poems of greater merit, like the -“Rose Enthroned.”</p> - -<p>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:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="verse">“Gone down in the flood, and gone out in the flame!</div> -<div class="verse">What else could she do, with her fair Northern name?”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>In August, 1863, she was called to the West by -the serious illness of her sister Louisa, which terminated -fatally.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">TO MRS. JAMES T. FIELDS.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Hammond, Wis.</span>, September 11, 1863.</p> - -<p>... 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.</p> - -<p>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....</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>The following records were made with feeling in -her diary.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> -struck its most desperate blow, but the Nation -moves calmly on.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>May 14, Sunday. Bells ringing for the capture -of Jeff Davis.</p></blockquote> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>Miss Larcom published, in 1866, the valuable -collection of extracts from religious writings,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>“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.”</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">TO MR. J. T. FIELDS.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly, Mass.</span>, May 20, 1866.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mr. Fields</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>When it is time to announce it, can it not be described<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="center">Yours sincerely,</p> -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - - - -<p class="center">TO MRS. J. T. FIELDS.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly, Mass.</span>, May 26, 1866.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Annie</span>,—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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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....</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>The “rhyme note” mentioned was a delightful -doggerel from Mr. Whittier.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Amesbury</span>, March 25, 1866.</p> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Believe me, Lucy Larcom, it gives me real sorrow</div> -<div class="verse">That I cannot take my carpet-bag, and go to town to-morrow;</div> -<div class="verse">But I’m “Snow-bound,” and cold on cold, like layers of an onion,</div> -<div class="verse">Have piled my back, and weighed me down, as with the pack of Bunyan.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">The north-east wind is damper, and the north-west wind is colder,</div> -<div class="verse">Or else the matter simply is that I am growing older;</div> -<div class="verse">And then, I dare not trust a moon seen over one’s left shoulder</div> -<div class="verse">As I saw this, with slender horn caught in a west hill-pine,</div> -<div class="verse">As on a Stamboul minaret curves the Arch Impostor’s sign.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">So I must stay in Amesbury, and let you go your way,</div> -<div class="verse">And guess what colors greet your eyes, what shapes your steps delay,</div> -<div class="verse">What pictured forms of heathen love, of god and goddess please you,</div> -<div class="verse">What idol graven images you bend your wicked knees to.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">But why should I of evil dream, well knowing at your head goes</div> -<div class="verse">That flower of Christian womanhood, our dear good Anna Meadows!</div> -<div class="verse">She’ll be discreet, I’m sure, although, once, in a fit romantic,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></div> -<div class="verse">She flung the Doge’s bridal ring, and married the “Atlantic;”</div> -<div class="verse">And spite of all appearances, like the woman in the shoe,</div> -<div class="verse">She’s got so many “Young Folks” now she don’t know what to do.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">But I must say, I think it strange that thee and Mrs. Spalding,</div> -<div class="verse">Whose lives with Calvin’s five-barred creed have been so tightly walled in,</div> -<div class="verse">Should quit your Puritanic homes, and take the pains to go</div> -<div class="verse">So far, with malice aforethought, to walk in a vain show!</div> -<div class="verse">Did Emmons hunt for pictures? was Jonathan Edwards peeping</div> -<div class="verse">Into the chambers of imagery with maids for Tammuz weeping?</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Ah, well, the times are sadly changed, and I myself am feeling</div> -<div class="verse">The wicked world my Quaker coat from off my shoulders peeling;</div> -<div class="verse">God grant that, in the strange new sea of change wherein we swim,</div> -<div class="verse">We still may keep the good old plank of simple faith in Him!</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">P.S. My housekeeper’s got the “tissick,” and gone away, and Lizzie</div> -<div class="verse">Is at home for the vacation, with flounce and trimmings busy;</div> -<div class="verse">The snow lies white about us, the birds again are dumb,—</div> -<div class="verse">The lying blue-frocked rascals who told us Spring had come;</div> -<div class="verse">But in the woods of Folly-Mill the sweet May-flowers are making</div> -<div class="verse">All ready for the moment of Nature’s glad awaking.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Come when they come; their welcome share:—except when at the city,</div> -<div class="verse">For months I’ve scarce seen womankind, save when, in sheerest pity,</div> -<div class="verse">Gail Hamilton came up, beside my lonely hearth to sit,</div> -<div class="verse">And make the Winter evening glad with wisdom and with wit</div> -<div class="verse">And fancy, feeling but the spur and not the curbing bit,</div> -<div class="verse">Lending a womanly charm to what before was bachelor rudeness;—</div> -<div class="verse">The Lord reward her for an act of disinterested goodness!</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">And now, with love to Mrs. F., and Mrs. S. (God bless her!),</div> -<div class="verse">And hoping that my foolish rhyme may not prove a transgressor,</div> -<div class="verse">And wishing for your sake and mine, it wiser were and wittier,</div> -<div class="verse">I leave it, and subscribe myself, your old friend,</div> -</div> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">John G. Whittier.</span></p> -</div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> - -<blockquote> -<hr class="tiny" /> -<p class="center">TO MRS. J. T. FIELDS.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly</span>, June 21, 1866.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Annie</span>,—Here I am once more by the salt -sea, and out of the beautiful retreat of the Shakers, -where we said “Good-by.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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....</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - - -<p class="center">TO MRS. CELIA THAXTER.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly</span>, July 16, 1867.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Friend</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>I think I kept it well covered, but there was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> -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<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> 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 <i>are</i> -an enchantress. It is a great gift to attract and -to <i>hold</i> 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> -when I am about. With you, there is the added -element of exhilaration, the rarest thing to receive, -as one gets into years.</p> - -<p>It is a sacred trust, the friendship of such a man.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p class="center">TO MISS JEAN INGELOW.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly, Mass.</span>, December 15, 1867.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Miss Ingelow</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>parterres</i>. At Appledore, one of the -larger of these islands, I have spent many happy -days with the sister of our poet Whittier, now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The poets are but leaders in the chorus of souls—they -utter our pæans and our <i>misereres</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>I hope you will write to me again some time,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> -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 <i>must</i> fill it,—to say nothing of -what <i>might</i>, very pleasantly, too.</p> - -<p>But I shall always be sincerely and gratefully -yours,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p class="center">TO J. G. WHITTIER.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly</span>, February 28, 1868.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Friend</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII.</h2></div> - -<p class="ph3">WRITINGS AND LETTERS.<br /> - -1868-1880.</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Though</span> 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.’”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Lord, open the door, for I falter,</div> -<div class="indent">I faint in this stifled air.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>The sweet quietude of “The Chamber called<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> -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:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“For the world’s exhaustless beauty,</div> -<div class="indent">I thank thee, O my God!”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>Miss Ingelow wrote her that she liked best “A -White Sunday,” with its hopeful lines, expressing -“the earnest expectation of the creature:”—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“The World we live in wholly is redeemed;</div> -<div class="verse">Not man alone, but all that man holds dear:</div> -<div class="verse">His orchards and his maize; forget-me-not</div> -<div class="verse">And heart’s-ease, in his garden; and the wild</div> -<div class="verse">Aerial blossoms of the untrained wood,</div> -<div class="verse">That makes its savagery so home-like; all</div> -<div class="verse">Have felt Christ’s sweet Love watering their roots</div> -<div class="verse">His Sacrifice has won both Earth and Heaven.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The name “Lucy Larcom” was now well known;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> -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 <i>noms de plume</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that is my name.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I am sorry to disappoint you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! You don’t disappoint me! I like the -looks of you; only, people will have their ideas -about poets.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - -<blockquote> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Amesbury</span>, November 25, 1874.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Friend</span>,—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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>We did not get up so good a book as this in our -“Child-Life.”</p> - -<p class="center">Thy friend,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">J. G. Whittier</span>.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - - - -<p class="center">TO MRS. MARY MAPES DODGE.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly Farms</span>, December 3, 1874.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mrs. Dodge</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>Your own little book must be nice; I hope to see -it when I go to Boston.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="right">Yours most truly,<span class="gap"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</span></p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - - - -<p class="center">TO THE SAME.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly Farms</span>, December 30, 1874.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mrs. Dodge</span>,—Your charming -“Rhymes and Jingles” followed your pleasant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>I send a verse or two, for by and by, when the -March winds blow.</p> - -<p>When I get to a little clearing of leisure, I will -write more for “St. Nicholas.”</p> - -<p class="center">Truly your friend,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - - -<p class="center">TO MRS. J. T. FIELDS.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly Farms</span>, December 5, 1875.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Annie</span>,—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,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Garrison and Henry Vincent, the lecturer, -were at Mrs. P.’s the next day.</p> - -<p>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....</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> -that proved how mental and moral culture -can be aided by hand-work, when the laborer looks -upon his occupation as his privilege.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">TO J. G. WHITTIER.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">83 Waltham Street, Boston</span>,<br /> -January 1, 1878.</p> - -<p>... 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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Judging from our own inside view, none of us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> -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?</p> - -<p>The sum of which is, that we all think you a -pretty good sort of man, as men go.</p> - -<p class="center">Always thy friend,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> -<p class="center">TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">83 Waltham Street</span>, January 17, 1878.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>I find very little in the Book of Romans which -points to some <i>future</i> 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> -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....</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>A poem full of semi-tropical scenery, written on -this trip, appeared in “Harper’s Magazine:”—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Under the eaves of a southern sky,</div> -<div class="indent">Where the cloud-roof bends to the ocean floor,</div> -<div class="verse">Hid in lonely seas, the Bermoothes lie,</div> -<div class="indent">An emerald cluster that Neptune bore</div> -<div class="verse">Away from the covetous earth-god’s sight,</div> -<div class="verse">And placed in a setting of sapphire light.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">TO MRS. E. B. WHEATON.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">627 Tremont Street, Boston</span>,<br /> -January 21, 1879.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mrs. Wheaton</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="center">Ever truly yours,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - - -<p class="center">TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Boston</span>, December 6, 1879.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>... 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>... I am fast getting to be a dissipated woman, -but I must and will put myself to work steadily for -a week or two.</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Boston</span>, April 14, 1879.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Miss Larcom</span>,—The preaching of -Christ as a personal friend and Saviour of all our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>I have known you by your verses for years. I -hope some day we may meet.</p> - -<p class="center">Yours very truly,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Phillips Brooks</span>.</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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.</p> - -<blockquote> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Boston</span>, March 20, 1880.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Miss Larcom</span>,—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.</p> - -<p class="center">Ever yours sincerely,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Phillips Brooks</span>.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="center">TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">627 Tremont Street</span>,<br /> -February 12, 1880. -</p> - -<p>... 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.</p> - -<p>What can the end be, since there is common sense -among the people, but a disgust for preaching altogether?</p> - -<p>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....</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> -pages of current ephemeral literature, up to the -time of her death.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">TO S. T. PICKARD.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Bethel, Me.</span>, September 30, 1880.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mr. Pickard</span>—I go to-morrow to -Berlin Falls, New Hampshire, to stay at the Cascade -House until I have finished reading my proof.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -</blockquote> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> -ones, that blossomed beside the still waters -of thought, and in the quiet retreats of meditation:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="indent6">“A Rose is sweet,</div> -<div class="verse">No matter where it grows: and roses grow</div> -<div class="verse">Nursed by the pure heavens, and the strengthening earth,</div> -<div class="verse">Wherever men will let them. Every waste</div> -<div class="verse">And solitary place is glad for them,</div> -<div class="verse">Since the old prophets sang, so, until now.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>“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:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Miss Larcom</span>,—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.</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>“Shared” excited admiration; and was pronounced -by one competent critic to be the best religious -lyric of the decade:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“The air we breathe, the sky, the breeze,</div> -<div class="indent">The light without us and within,</div> -<div class="verse">Life, with its unlocked treasuries,</div> -<div class="indent">God’s riches, are for all to win.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> -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:—</p> - -<p class="center">“In Christ I feel the Heart of God.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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:”—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“And glimmering beach, and plover’s flight,</div> -<div class="indent">And that long surge that rolls</div> -<div class="verse">Through bands of green and purple light,</div> -<div class="verse">Are fairer to our human sight</div> -<div class="indent">Because of human souls.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>Again, in “Golden-Rod:”—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“The swinging harebell faintly tolled</div> -<div class="indent">Upon the still autumnal air,</div> -<div class="verse">The golden-rod bent down to hold</div> -<div class="indent">Her rows of funeral torches there.”</div> -</div></div> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>And in “My Mountain:”—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“I shut my eyes in the snow-fall,</div> -<div class="indent">And dream a dream of the hills;</div> -<div class="verse">The sweep of a host of mountains,</div> -<div class="indent">The flash of a hundred rills.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Built by the warring elements they rise,</div> -<div class="indent">The massive earth-foundations, tier on tier,</div> -<div class="verse">Where slimy monsters with unhuman eyes</div> -<div class="indent">Their hideous heads uprear.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING.</p> - - -<p class="right">4 <span class="smcap">Hotel Byron, Berkeley Street</span>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">Boston</span>, March 8, 1886.</p> - -<p>... Don’t be troubled about “orchard-notes.” -I consider it the highest compliment.</p> - -<p>Think of goldfinches and linnets, song-sparrows -and orioles! I know and love their separate songs,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> -and should feel proud if I thought <i>my</i> 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”?</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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,—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“For thine own great gift of Being,</div> -<div class="indent">I thank Thee, O my God,”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>and the words,—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Lord, enter this house of my being</div> -<div class="indent">And fill every room with Thy light,”—</div> -</div></div> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>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:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="indent7">“God hears</div> -<div class="verse">The prayer the good man means, the Soul’s desire,</div> -<div class="verse">Under whatever rubbish of vain speech;</div> -<div class="verse">And prayer is, must be, each man’s deepest words.</div> -<div class="verse">He who denies its power, still uses it,</div> -<div class="verse">Whenever he names God, or thinks of Him.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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:”—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“The Universe is one great loving Thought,</div> -<div class="indent">Written in Hieroglyphs of bud and bloom.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>The delicate and spiritual nature of womanhood, -too, with its heroism, breathed through all she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> -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 <i>morale</i> of them is always -elevating.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>The following letter to Dr. John Hunter of -Glasgow shows that she enjoyed this recognition -of her work:—</p> - -<blockquote> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly, Mass.</span>, July 10, 1890.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="center">Truly yours,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>The two following letters illustrate how Dr. -Holmes and Mr. Longfellow appreciated Miss Larcom’s -work.</p> - -<blockquote> - - -<p class="right">296 <span class="smcap">Beacon Street</span>, November 17, 1880.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Miss Larcom</span>,—I have been reading -your poems at all the spare moments I could find<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="center">Very sincerely yours,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">O. W. Holmes</span>.</p> - -<p>P.S. (Worth all the rest). I got a letter from -Mr. Whittier which reads as follows:—</p> - -<p>“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,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">J. G. Whittier</span>.”</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Cambridge</span>, December 24, 1880.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Miss Larcom</span>,—I thank you very much -for your beautiful volume of beautiful poems. I -have been reading it this morning with great enjoyment.</p> - -<p>I always liked your poetry, and now like it more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> -than ever. It is not merely verse, but possesses -the true poetic instinct and insight.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="center">Sincerely yours,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Henry W. Longfellow</span>.</p> - -</blockquote> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IX.</h2></div> - -<p class="ph3">RELIGIOUS CHANGES.<br /> - -1881-1884.</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Her relations to organized Christianity are particularly -interesting. Doubtless the history of her -connection with the churches is a type of that of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">TO J. G. WHITTIER.</p> - - -<p class="right">627 <span class="smcap">Tremont Street</span>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">Boston</span>, December 25, 1881.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Friend</span>,—Alone in my room this -evening, I feel just like writing a Christmas letter -to you, and I follow the impulse.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>God with us still, the Spiritual Presence of One<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>Sometimes I can say undoubtingly, “I <i>know</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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....</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - - -<p class="center">TO THE SAME.</p> - - -<p class="right">627 <span class="smcap">Tremont Street</span>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">Boston</span>, June 6, 1881.</p> - -<p>... 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The forward outlook is full of good cheer; for is -not He the Eternally Good?...</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - - -<p class="center">TO FRANKLIN CARTER.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly, Mass.</span>, July 18, 1881.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Frank</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>too much world</i>, -which everybody seems to get suffocated in.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="center">Always and truly yours,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>The change in Miss Larcom’s religious life came -when she began to attend the services of Trinity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> -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:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>... 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....</p></blockquote> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>At another time she wrote about her church connections -as follows:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>... 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.</p> - -<p>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....</p></blockquote> - -<p>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.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> -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:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="indent6">“An age of light,</div> -<div class="verse">Light without love, glares on the aching sight.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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” (<i>Ibid.</i>).</p> - -<p>December 5. Two distinct thoughts impressed -by the two successive evening services at Trinity -Church:—</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Begin this morning Max Müller’s “Science of -Religion,” which I have never yet thoroughly -read.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>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 <i>be</i> 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> -us. In that light all darkness may surely be forgotten.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>on earth</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> -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—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Through the world’s sad day of strife</div> -<div class="indent">Still chant his morning song.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>Reading “Ecce Homo” for the first time, with -a view to studying the “Life of Christ” with a -friend.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> -book fascinates; it seems always based upon a -beautiful, yet most inadequate, conception.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p>May 26. Closing days of a lovely visit at Melrose, -at the house of two of the most delightful -people,—a true home.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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....</p></blockquote> - -<p>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.</p> - - -<blockquote> -<p class="right">233 <span class="smcap">Clarendon Street, Boston</span>, March 20, 1884.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Miss Larcom</span>,—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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> -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,</p> - -<p class="center">I am yours most sincerely,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Phillips Brooks</span>.</p> -</blockquote> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER X.</h2></div> - -<p class="ph3">UNDERCURRENTS.<br /> - -1884-1889.</p> - - -<blockquote> -<p class="center">TO MISS S. H. WARD.</p> - - -<p class="right">January 1, 1884.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Susie Ward</span>,—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—<i>was</i> it thirty -years ago?</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="center">Ever your friend,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p class="center">TO THE SAME.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly, Mass.</span>, January 15, 1884.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Susie</span>,—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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p class="center">Always yours,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - - -<p class="center">TO J. G. WHITTIER.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Wolfville, Nova Scotia</span>,<br /> -August 21, 1884.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Friend</span>,—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!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>We go the last of the week to Annapolis and -Digby, and home by the way of Mt. Desert, which -I have never visited.</p> - -<p>I go from there to Bethel, to spend September,—read -my proof—and escape hay-fever—(as I -hope!).</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="center">Thine always,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p class="center">TO PHILLIPS BROOKS.</p> - -<p class="right">12 <span class="smcap">Concord Square</span>, March 26, 1885.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Brooks</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="center">Faithfully yours,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p class="center">TO ——</p> - - -<p class="right">December 3, 1885.</p> - -<p>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....</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> -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:”—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Here is shelter and outlook, deep rest and wide room;</div> -<div class="verse">The pine woods behind, breathing balm out of gloom;</div> -<div class="verse">Before, the great hills over vast levels lean,—</div> -<div class="verse">A glory of purple, a splendor of green.</div> -<div class="verse">As a new earth and heaven, ye are mine once again,</div> -<div class="verse">Ye beautiful meadows and mountains of Maine.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> -others may judge of by the following from Wood-Giant’s -Hill, Centre Harbor.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center">“‘The gale informs us, laden with the scent.’</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Centre Harbor</span>, N. H., October 7, 1855.</p> - -<p>... 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>I spent last week at Ossipee Park, the loveliest -spot in New England, I think.</p> - -<p>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....</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p class="center">TO J. G. WHITTIER.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Hotel Byron</span>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">Boston</span>, April 23, 1886.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Friend</span>,—I have been in and about -Boston for the past three weeks, and of late have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> -been interested in this new study of Theosophy, -which so many are looking into. I have wondered -how you regard it.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p class="right">Faithfully thy friend,<span class="gap"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> -<p class="right">233 <span class="smcap">Clarendon Street</span>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">Boston</span>, December 28, 1886.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Miss Larcom</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>At any rate, I am glad that you are here, and I -send you my best New Year’s wishes.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p class="center">Ever faithfully your friend,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Phillips Brooks</span>.</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“What is too bad?”</p> - -<p>“Why, that thee should work for the world all -thy days, and then lie here, worrying about expenses.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t worry. The Lord has always taken -care of me.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I knew you had, as soon as this talk began.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> -Now, I thank you, but I will not touch one cent of -the money you collect.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be foolish. Thee will; and thee must -not waste thy remaining strength in rebellion.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">TO J. G. WHITTIER.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Hotel Byron, Berkeley St.</span>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">Boston, Mass.</span>, February 4, 1887.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Friend</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>If Mr. Childs has really sent the money to <i>me</i>, -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?</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>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?</p> - -<p class="center">Gratefully yours,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> -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.’”</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Williamstown, Mass.</span>, October 10, 1887.</p> - -<p>... 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>May God reveal himself to these benighted -theologians!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p class="center">TO J. G. WHITTIER.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly, Mass.</span>, April 24, 1888.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Friend</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>However, I saw my old friends, and a good many -new people, and had a pleasant time.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>What a moving world it is!...</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> -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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>—“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.”</p> - -<p>That she enjoyed these tokens of appreciation, -this letter indicates.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING.</p> - - -<p class="right">214 <span class="smcap">Columbus Avenue</span>,<br /> -Saturday evening, December 28, 1889.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Friend</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>our</i> life that we are enjoying together....</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>Mr. Brooks sent one of his short, characteristic -notes, thanking her for “A New England Girlhood.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="right">233 <span class="smcap">Clarendon Street</span>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">Boston</span>, December 9, 1889.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Miss Larcom</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>To hear of the American First Class Book again -was like a breeze out of my childhood!</p> - -<p>And I hope all the girls are reading it, and catching -the flavor of its healthy spirit.</p> - -<p>At any rate, I thank you for it, and I am yours -most sincerely,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Phillips Brooks</span>.</p> -</blockquote> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XI.</h2></div> - -<p class="ph3">MEMBERSHIP IN THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH.</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> 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:—</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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——.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>I could thank the Church, almost, for having impressed -them so upon her history, that they sometimes -seem <i>hardened</i> 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.</p></blockquote> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“The last thought for the day,—in the evening,—was -that injustice never does triumph, however -it may seem.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> -when the way is open through sympathy with -human souls, and with the Eternal Son, into the -Father’s heart.</p> - -<p>How easy the spiritual life seems, when material -things fall into their subordinate places! If it -might always be so!</p> - -<p>May 20. Still in Boston, interested in many -things. People <i>are</i> 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?</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“I saw all women of our race</div> -<div class="verse">Revealed in that one woman’s face!”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> -sermon in Boston, and I think this is his first visit -to America. It is good to have such neighbors -come to see us.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Read this morning Phillips Brooks’ sermon on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> -“Visions” and “Tasks,” and several others—among -them, the “Church of the Living God.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> -1890, is very well put, in a letter to Mrs. S. I. -Spalding, of Newburyport.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The Episcopal Church seems to have several -doors of its own,—some wide and some narrow; -it is not <i>the</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>It is good to have taken this position; I shall -feel stronger and richer in life and spirit for it, I -trust and believe.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>March 26. The thought that has been with me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p></blockquote> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>There is no need to elaborate the ideas of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XII.</h2></div> - -<p class="ph3">LAST YEARS.</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Miss Larcom</span> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> - -<blockquote> - - -<p class="center">TO GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY.</p> - - -<p class="right">214 <span class="smcap">Columbus Avenue</span>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">Boston</span>, February 18, 1889.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Woodberry</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> -“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.</p> - -<p class="center">Truly yours,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> -while we decline to accept the superstructure of -the Church.”</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">TO DR. SOLOMON SOLIS-COHEN.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly, Mass.</span>, October 18, 1890.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dr. S. Solis-Cohen</span>:—</p> - -<p><i>Dear Sir</i>,—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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Certainly no one ever insisted upon obedience to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>All sorts of strange doctrines have been built up -about this idea.</p> - -<p>I care for none of them, but rest upon what is -to me a spiritual certainty—“Truly this <i>is</i> the -Son of God.”</p> - -<p>I emphasize the “<i>is</i>” 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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="center">Very truly yours,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</p> - -</blockquote> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>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.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>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!”</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> -part of my true life. They seem more alive than -when here; my communion is with them and with -all the living to-day.</p> - -<p>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:—</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>August 24. On the summit of Moosilauke.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> -It was tragic; pictorial; yet somehow outside of -me—a scene upon which I gazed, and wondered, -and longed to understand.</p> - -<p>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 <i>is</i>, the life, that made it clear.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>I do believe that the hand of God is in his election<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>And still it is a haunting regret that I shall no -longer hear his words in the old familiar way, at -Trinity Church.</p></blockquote> - -<blockquote> -<hr class="tiny" /> -<p class="center">TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING.</p> - - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly, Mass.</span>, June 3, 1891.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Friend</span>,—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 <i>must</i> go to Boston next Sunday, -for it is the Communion Service, which has become -very dear to me, and more so <i>now</i>.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>I should <i>prefer</i> 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 <i>forever</i> 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.</p> - -<p>The <i>little</i> side of Episcopacy is making itself -manifest, as it must, when so great a man is brought -into contrast with <i>mere</i> systematizers, petty planners -of the Kingdom which is infinite, <i>so</i> infinite -that it absorbs them, as the atmosphere does motes -and insects.</p> - -<p class="center">Yours with love,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</p> -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>So may our lives all be enlarged and strengthened -with his, to serve our Master better, in a -wider and deeper service of humankind!</p> - - -<hr class="tiny" /> -<p class="center">TO J. G. WHITTIER.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly</span>, February 24, 1892.</p> - -<p>... 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.</p> - -<p>Through <i>thee</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> -mine,” through to the end, as he went away, standing -before the picture,—“Christus Consolator,” -which hangs at her parlor door....</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p class="center">TO THE SAME.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly, Mass.</span>, July 10, 1892.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Friend</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>... 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 <i>can</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>reality</i> in the spiritual life, -for self and for others....</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - - -<p>Beverly, October 16, 1892. This summer has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p class="center">TO MRS. S. T. PICKARD.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly</span>, October 16, 1892.</p> - -<p>... 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p class="center">TO S. T. PICKARD.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beverly, Mass.</span>, November 11, 1892.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Pickard</span>,—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.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p class="center">Yours sincerely,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="center">TO FRANKLIN CARTER.</p> - -<p class="right">214 <span class="smcap">Columbus Avenue, Boston</span>,<br /> -January 10, 1893.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear Frank</span>,—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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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!—</p> - -<p>I cannot write, or do anything continuously, -without pain in my chest, so I desist, with love to -you and yours.</p> - -<p class="center">Faithfully ever,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - - -<p class="center">TO MISS FOBES.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Roxbury, Mass.</span>, March 14, 1893.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear Miss Fobes</span>,—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.)</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <i>character</i> of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> -life, but also its <i>duration</i>. 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>I have just read “David Grieve.” It is far -from being a cheerful book, though powerfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> -written. It is, however, an improvement upon -“Robert Elsmere,” which seemed to me wordily -weak.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p class="center">Always affectionately yours,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy Larcom</span>.</p> - - -</blockquote> - - -<p>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.”</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">TO PHILLIPS BROOKS.</p> - - -<p class="right">214 <span class="smcap">Columbus Avenue</span>,<br /> -January 17, 1893.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p class="right">Faithfully yours,<span class="gap">L. L.</span></p> -<hr class="tiny" /> - - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>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?—<i>is</i> 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!</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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—<i>where</i>—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.</p> - - -</blockquote> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>On Monday, April the seventeenth, she grew -rapidly worse; and in her unconsciousness, she frequently -murmured in prayer, the word “Freedom.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> -On this day her soul was released, and she entered -into the fullness of the Glory of God.</p> - -<p>On a little slip of paper she had written these -last words:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“O Mariner-soul,</div> -<div class="indent">Thy quest is but begun,</div> -<div class="verse">There are new worlds</div> -<div class="indent">Forever to be won.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">INDEX.</h2></div> - - -<p> -Abraham, Mount, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Adirondacks, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Advertiser, Boston Daily, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Alden, John, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Aldrich, T. B., <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Alps, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“American Women of Note,” <a href="#Page_239">239</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Amesbury, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Anderson, Hans, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Andover, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Andrew, Governor, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Androscoggin, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Anglo-Saxon Poetry, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Annapolis, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Appledore, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Appleton, Nathan, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Arnold, Matthew, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Arthur, Prince, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Asquam, Lake, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Atlantic Monthly, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“At Her Bedside,” <a href="#Page_199">199</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Attleboro’, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“At the Beautiful Gate,” <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Bacon, Francis, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Baker, Mrs. I. W., <a href="#Page_32">32</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">letter to, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">living with, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Barrett, Lois, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Bass River, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Beaufort, S. C., <a href="#Page_112">112</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Berkshire Hills, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Berlin Falls, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Bermuda, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Bethel, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Bethlehem, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Betsy’s, Aunt, cucumbers, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Beverly, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">life in, <a href="#Page_43">43-46</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">division of, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">love for, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Beverly Farms, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Blanchard, Dr. Amos, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Blue, Mount, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Bonnechose, de, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Boston, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">troops in, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">Harbor, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Boston Journal, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Bradford Academy, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Bradford, England, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“Breathings of the Better Life,” <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Brooks, Rev. Phillips, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">letter on preaching, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">friendship for Lucy Larcom, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter on Lord’s Supper, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">preaching of, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">preaches on “Old Year,” <a href="#Page_211">211</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">preaches about Heaven, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter about church-membership, <a href="#Page_220">220</a></span>;<br /> -<span class="indent">letter about “The Little Town of Bethlehem,” <a href="#Page_232">232</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">invites all to Communion, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter, <a href="#Page_250">250</a></span>;<br /> -<span class="indent">at Wheaton, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">elected Bishop, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">Consecration of, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">death of, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Brown, J. Appleton, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Brown of Ossawatomie, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Browning, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Browning, Mrs., <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Bushnell, Horace, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Campton, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Cape Ann, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Carlyle, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Carter, Franklin, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">letters to, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Cary Sisters, The, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Centre Harbor, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Chadwick, Rev. J. W., <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Chasles, Philarète, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Chaucer’s Daisies, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Childs, G. W., <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Childs, Mrs., <a href="#Page_118">118</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Childhood Songs, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Child-Life, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Christian Union, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Clough, Arthur, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Coleridge, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Congregational Church, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">administration of Communion in, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Congregationalist, The, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Contrabands, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Conybeare, and Howson, Life of St. Paul, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Cook, Mrs., <a href="#Page_196">196</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Corinth, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Cottage Hearth, The, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Cousin, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Crayon, The, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Croswell, Dr., poems, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Curtiss, Hariot, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span><br /> -<br /> -Cushman, Miss, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Davis, Jeff, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">capture of, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Dickens, Charles, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Dickinson, Emily, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Digby, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.<br /> -<br /> -District of Columbia, slavery in, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Dodge, Mrs. Mary Mapes, <a href="#Page_177">177-178</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Donelson, Fort, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Durand, John, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">letter to, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Easter Gleams, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Elizabeth, Queen, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Emerson, Ralph Waldo, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">“Parnassus,” <a href="#Page_186">186</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -England, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">against slavery, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Episcopal Church, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">criticism of, <a href="#Page_254">254-256</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">little side of, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Essex County, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Evangeline, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Farley, Hariett, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Farrar, Canon, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Fichte, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Fields, James T., letter to, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Fields, Mrs. James T., <a href="#Page_149">149</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">letters to, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">books loaned by, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Fitch, Mrs., <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Florida, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Fobes, Miss P., <a href="#Page_38">38</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">letters to, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Forrester, Fanny, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Fox, George, journal of, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Franconia Notch, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Freeman, Miss, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Frémont, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.<br /> -<br /> -French Acadians, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Gannett’s, Dr., school, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Gardiner, Maine, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Garfield, Mrs., <a href="#Page_210">210</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Garfield, President, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">assassination of, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Garrison, W. L., <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Gaspereau, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Gethsemane, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Gibbon, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Godfrey, Captain B., <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“Golden-Rod,” <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Gordon, Rev. Mr., <a href="#Page_267">267</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Grand Pré, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Great Britain, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Greenough, Mrs., <a href="#Page_186">186</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Greenwood, Grace, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Guild, Mrs., <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Gulliver’s Travels, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Guyon, Madame, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -“Hail Columbia,” <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Halifax, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Hamilton, Gail, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Hammond, Wisconsin, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“Hand in Hand with Angels,” <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Hannah, Aunt, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“Hannah Binding Shoes,” <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">set to music, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Hare’s “Mission of the Comforter,” <a href="#Page_54">54</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Harper’s Magazine, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Haskell, Mrs. Abby O., <a href="#Page_29">29</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">letter to, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Hatteras, Fort, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Hawthorne’s “Little Annie’s Ramble,” <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“Heart of God,” The, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Hegel, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Herbert, George, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Higginson, Mr., <a href="#Page_197">197</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“Hilary,” <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Hindoo, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Hopkins, Dr. Mark, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Horder, Rev. W. Garrett, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Horticultural Association, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Howells, W. D., <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Humiston, Esther S., <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">letters to, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">dying, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">death, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">grave of, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letters of, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">mother of, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Hunter, Dr. John, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -“Idyl of Work,” <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“Immortal Now,” The, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Independent, The, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Ingelow, Jean, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">letter to, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Ipswich, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">Academy of, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Isles of Shoals, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Italy, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Jackson, H. H., <a href="#Page_196">196</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Jameson’s, Mrs., “Legends of the Madonna,” <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Kant, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Keble, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Kennebec River, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Knickerbocker, The, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">letter to, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Koeppen, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Lamb’s “Dream Children,” <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Larcom, Mrs., <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">boarding-house of, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">death of, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Larcom, Benjamin, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Larcom, Cornelius, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Larcom, David, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Larcom, Jonathan, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Larcom, Lucy, birth, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">at school, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">love for hymns, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">books she read, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">writes for manuscript papers, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">working in Lowell mills, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">early religious ideas, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">signs petition to Congress, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">meets Mr. Whittier, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">book-keeper in Lawrence Mills, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">writing in prose sketch-book, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">writing poetry, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>;</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span><br /> -<span class="indent">goes to Illinois, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">diary of journey, <a href="#Page_21">21-27</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">in Maryland, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">At Pittsburgh, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">at St. Louis, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">lives on Looking-glass Prairie, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">hardships in school-teaching, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letters to sisters, Abby and Lydia, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">examined for position as teacher, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">sick with “agey,” <a href="#Page_33">33</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">enters Monticello, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">life at Monticello, <a href="#Page_39">39-43</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">debating society, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">compositions, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">engagement, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">teaching in Beverly, <a href="#Page_44">44-46</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">enters Wheaton Seminary, <a href="#Page_46">46-47</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">room at Norton, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">love for flowers, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">knitting stockings for soldiers, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">power as a teacher, <a href="#Page_49">49-53</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">lecture on Anglo-Saxon Poetry, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">lecture on compositions, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">in the class-room, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">founding the “Rushlight,” and Psyche Literary Society, <a href="#Page_50">50-51</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">called “Mother Larcom,” <a href="#Page_51">51</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter on death, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">girl’s love affairs, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">scholar’s love for her, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">friendship for Miss Humiston, <a href="#Page_54">54-57</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">ideas about church-membership, and doctrines, <a href="#Page_55">55-57</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">leaves Norton, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">reasons for not marrying, <a href="#Page_57">57-59</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">publishes “Similitudes,” <a href="#Page_61">61</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">wins Kansas prize song, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">publishes Lottie’s Thought-book, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">prints “Hannah Binding Shoes,” <a href="#Page_63">63</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">writes to New York Tribune, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter to John Durand, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">unsuccessful attempt to print a volume of verse, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">submits verses to Mr. Whittier for criticism, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">diary, <a href="#Page_69">69-147</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">thoughts on mystics, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">thoughts on “The Sabbath,” <a href="#Page_74">74</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">reasons for keeping a diary, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">remarks on ministers, <a href="#Page_76">76-77</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">reads “Wilhelm Meister,” <a href="#Page_78">78</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">depression of spirits, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">thoughts on eternal life and death, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">gifts on her birthday, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">unpleasant sermon on Satan, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">remarks on friendship, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">visits the Webster place, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">visits Plymouth, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">visits the Whittiers, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">love for mountains, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">on the Rebellion, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">concerning her diary, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">concerning gossip, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">on child’s knowledge of the Bible, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">sleigh-ride to Attleboro’, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">on Sarah Paine’s death, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">hears Emerson, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">education of nieces, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">religious talks with scholars, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">introspection, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">thoughts on the resurrection, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">love for the Whittiers, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">singing around Liberty Pole, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">prays for C——, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">skeptical, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">school trials, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">death of C——, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">visits Andover, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter to Mr. Fields, enclosing poem, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter to Whittier about the mountains, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">gives up teaching at Wheaton, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">home in Waterbury, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">writes for the Atlantic, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter about death of her sister Louisa, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">edits “Our Young Folks,” <a href="#Page_157">157</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">publishes “Breathings of the Better Life,” <a href="#Page_159">159</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letters to Mrs. James T. Fields, <a href="#Page_159">159-163</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter to Mrs. Thaxter, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter to Miss Ingelow, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter to Mr. Whittier about her mother’s illness, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">publishes “Poems,” <a href="#Page_173">173</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">name of, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">work with Mr. Whittier, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letters to Mrs. Dodge, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">publishes “An Idyl of Work,” <a href="#Page_179">179</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">prints “Roadside Poems,” <a href="#Page_180">180</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter on Romans, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">visits Bermuda, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">prints “Landscape in American Poetry,” <a href="#Page_183">183</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter to Mrs. Wheaton, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">present at breakfast to Dr. Holmes, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">first meeting with Phillips Brooks, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">prints “Wild Roses of Cape Ann,” <a href="#Page_187">187</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter to Mr. Pickard, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">criticism of her poetry, <a href="#Page_189">189-198</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter to Dr. Hunter, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">religious changes, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter to Franklin Carter, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">learns to know the Episcopal Church, <a href="#Page_107">107-120</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">opinion of faith-cure, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">reads Renan, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter from Nova Scotia, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter to Phillips Brooks, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">summer homes of, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">on Theosophy, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">conversation with Mr. Whittier about finances, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">visits President Carter, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">prints “A New England Girlhood,” <a href="#Page_238">238</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">communes at Trinity Church, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">confirmed, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">converses with Mr. Brooks, <a href="#Page_269">269-270</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">illness of, <a href="#Page_280">280-281</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter to Miss Fobes, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">last letter to Phillips Brooks, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">on the death of Mr. Brooks, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">death of, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">burial of, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Larcom, Mordecai, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Lavater, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Lawrence Mills, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Lazarus, Emma, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Lebanon, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Lee, surrender of, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Leigh, Miss, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Liberty Pole, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Lincoln, Abraham, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">assassination of, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Longfellow, H. W., <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">letter to Miss Larcom, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">death of, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Longfellow, Rev. Samuel, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Lowell, mills in, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">lyceum of, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">poem on, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">article in Atlantic Monthly on, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Lowell, Francis Cabot, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Lowell, J. R., <a href="#Page_180">180</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Lowell, Maria, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Lowell Offering, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span><br /> -<br /> -“Loyal Woman’s No,” <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Maine, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Maintenon, Madame de, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Manassas, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Mansel, Dean, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Martineau, Dr., <a href="#Page_196">196</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Mason and Slidell, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Maurice, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Maury’s Physical Geography, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Melrose, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Memphis, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Merrimac, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">sinking of, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Middlesex Standard, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Milton, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Milton Hills, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Mississippi, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Missouri, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“Monitor,” <a href="#Page_130">130</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Monticello, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">prospectus of, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Moosilauke, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Morris’ Poems, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Moultrie, Fort, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Müller, Max, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“My Mountain,” <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Myrtle, Minnie, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Neander’s “History of the Church,” <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Neck-woods, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Newburyport, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.<br /> -<br /> -New England Emigrant Aid Co., <a href="#Page_62">62</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“New England Girlhood,” <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>.<br /> -<br /> -New Hampshire, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.<br /> -<br /> -New York Tribune, The, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Norfolk, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.<br /> -<br /> -North Carolina, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Norton, Mass., <a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Notch Mountains, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Nova Scotia, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Olivet, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“On the Beach,” <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Operatives’ Magazine, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Osgood & Co., <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Ossipee Park, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“Our Christ,” <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Our Young Folks, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Paine, Sarah, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Park, Professor, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Parker, Theodore, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Passion Week, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Paula, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Pembroke, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Pemigewasset, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Pilgrims, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Pilgrim’s Progress, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Pitman, Harriet, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“Phebe,” <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Phelps, Prof., <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Phillips, Adelaide, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Plato, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">reading, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">teaching, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Plymouth, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“Poems,” <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Portland Transcript, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Potomac, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Prairie sleigh-ride, A, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Psyche Literary Society, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Puritans, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Quaker, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">worship of, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">contrast with Puritan, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Quaker Home, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Readville, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Renan, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Richter, Jean Paul, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“Roadside Poems,” <a href="#Page_180">180</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Robertson, F. W., <a href="#Page_138">138</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“Rose Enthroned,” The, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Rossetti, W. M., <a href="#Page_197">197</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Rushlight, The, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Ruskin, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Russell, John, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -“Sabbath Bells,” <a href="#Page_15">15</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Saddle-back, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Schelling, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Scott, Sir Walter, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Sears’ “Foregleams and Foreshadows,” <a href="#Page_54">54</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Shakespeare, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“Shared,” <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Shelley, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“Similitudes,” <a href="#Page_61">61</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“Skipper Ben,” <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Smith, John Cotton, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Spalding, Mrs. S. I., <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">letters to, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Spaulding, George, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Spaulding, Lucy Larcom, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Spenser, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Socrates, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Solis-Cohen, Dr. S., <a href="#Page_260">260</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“Songs of Three Centuries,” <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>.<br /> -<br /> -South Carolina, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Southey, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>.<br /> -<br /> -St. Ann’s Church, Lowell, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>.<br /> -<br /> -St. Nicholas, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.<br /> -<br /> -St. Peter’s Church, Beverly, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Standish, Miles, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Stanley, Aunt, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Stedman, Mr., <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Stephen, Sir James, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Stone, Dr., <a href="#Page_215">215</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Stone, Lucy, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Stowe, Harriet Beecher, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Stowe, Prof., <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Sumatra, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Sumner, Charles, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Swedenborg, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Switzerland, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Tauler’s Sermons, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span><br /> -<br /> -Taunton, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Tennyson, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Thanksgiving, A, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Thaxter, Mrs. Celia, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Thayer, Prof., <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“The Chamber Called Peace,” <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Tholuck, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Thomas, Rev. Abel C., <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Thorndike, Colonel, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Trinity Church, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">free seats in, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">services at, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">passing of old year at, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Trowbridge, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Unitarianism, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Universalists, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Unseen Friend, The, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“Unwedded,” <a href="#Page_59">59</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Vincent, Henry, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Walker’s Rhyming Dictionary, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Wallace Lane, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Wallis, Becky, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Ward, Susan Hayes, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">letters to, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Waterbury, Conn., <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Waterville, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Webster, Daniel, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Wellesley College, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Wheaton, Judge, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Wheaton, Mrs. E. B., <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Wheaton Seminary, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>.<br /> -<br /> -White Face, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.<br /> -<br /> -White Mountains, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.<br /> -<br /> -White, Richard Grant, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>.<br /> -<br /> -White, Sunday, A, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Whitney, Mrs. A. D. T., <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Whittier, Elizabeth, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Whittier, John G., <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>;<br /> -<span class="indent">first meeting with Miss Larcom, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">friendship for Miss Larcom, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter to Lucy Larcom, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">“Home Ballads,” <a href="#Page_80">80</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">“Panorama,” <a href="#Page_80">80</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letters to, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">rhymed note of, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">at Isles of Shoals, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">collaboration with Miss Larcom, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter to Lucy Larcom, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">criticism of her poetry, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">letter to O. W. Holmes, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">visit of, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">poem, “Wood-Giant,” <a href="#Page_230">230</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">on Bishop Brooks, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>;</span><br /> -<span class="indent">death of, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>.</span><br /> -<br /> -Wide Awake, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Wilberforce, Canon, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>.<br /> -<br /> -“Wild Roses of Cape Ann,” <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Williams College, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Williamstown, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Winnipiseogee, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Winter, William, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Wolfboro’, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Woodberry, George E., <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Wordsworth, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>.<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Year in Heaven, A, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.<br /> -<br /> -Youth’s Companion, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>. -</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<blockquote> - - - -<p class="ph3">FOOTNOTES:</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <i>An Idyl of Work</i>, p. 34.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> <i>An Idyl of Work</i>, p. 69.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> <i>An Idyl of Work</i>, p. 74.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> <i>Ibid</i>, p. 136.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> <i>Similitudes.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Elizabeth Whittier.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> <i>Wild Roses of Cape Ann.</i></p></div> - -</blockquote> - - - - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -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-h.htm or 55751-h.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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