EMORY UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY
MOURNING TRIBUTE
TO TIIK
MEMORY OF ANNA PERRY,
FOR
PRIVATE CIRCULATION ONLY,
IN
HER FAMILY AND AMONGST HER FRIENDS.
GREENVILLE, S. C.
G. E. ELSORD'S JOB PRESS.
1859
OBITUARY.
Departed this life, January 12th, 1859, at the
residence of her father, in the village of Greenville, S.
C., Anna Perry, eldest daughter of Benjamin Franklin
and Elizabeth Frances Perry, in the seventeenth year
of her age, after a lingering illness of more than twelve
months. In the morn of life, innocent and lovely,
her pure, bright spirit has left the earth for heaven.
Like a beautiful d-ower in the bud, she has been
plucked from the stem of life before her rare and high
endowments of heart, and mind, and person, were
full blown to the world. But, short as was her life in
this world of sorrow, and trouble, and suffering, she
had lived long enough to give unmistakable evidence,
to her family and friends, of those clustering virtues
and graces which adorn the female character and
render woman altogether lovely. She had a heart
beaming with joy, a kind word and a genial smile for
all. Early in life she manifested a capacity and
fondness for study, books and knowledge, not common
to one of her tender years. After pursuing her
education at one of the best schools in Charleston,
and at the Greenville Female College, she was placed
in Saint Mary's Hall, under the care of Bishop Doane,
of New Jersey. There, the incipient stage of a
pulmonary affection was first discerned in her system.
She was taken by a kind friend and most excellent
4
OBITUARY.
lady, Miss Graham, to her house in Philadelphia, and
there placed* under the care of Professor Jackson, one
of the most eminent physicians in diseases of the
chest in the United States. He advised her to return
home, which she did. Under the treatment of Drs.
Crook, Earle and Hoke, there was, for a time, hope of
her recovery. Soon, however, she became worse, and
went to Columbia to consult Drs. Fair and Trezevant,
who pronounced her case incurable. She then
returned home to die! gradually sinking every day
till the day of her death. In the morning of that
day she requested her mother, who was watching at
her bedside, to call her father to her room. Clasping
him in her arms, she said : " Papa, I am going to die!
Forgive me all I have done amiss to you, and prepare
to meet me in heaven! I hope my Heavenly Father
will pardon my sins 1" In the absence of Rev. Mr.
Arthur, (the Pastor of her church,) Rev. Mr. Gaillard
was sent for, and gave her great consolation. He told
her she manifested the true spirit of a dying Christian.
Then she took farewell of father, mother, brothers,
sister, aunts, friends and servants around her. She
requested her love to be given to her two absent
brothers, and that they should, by prayer and a life of
Christian virtue and piety, be prepared to follow her.
She directed that of her little valuables and treasure,
mementoes might be given to all her friends, who had
been kind to her in her last sickness, so that they
would have something to remember her by. The
servants, too, were not forgotten. Being asked where
she desired to be buried, she replied, " In some pretty
place, by papa and wished her little sister to strew
her grave with flowers! Without a struggle she
OBITUARY. 5
passed from time to eternity. The idol of her family
and friends whilst living, she now receives, in death,
their gushing sorrows. Her aged grandmother,
weeping in affliction, her aunts and her broken¬
hearted parents, know no comfort except that of
meeting her again in a better and happier world,
where they will never part. There is a providence of
God in all things, but his wisdom is inscrutable to
erring mortals. He orders everything for the best,
though not seen and understood by man. The day of
Anna's burial was gloomy, and the elements seemed
to weep over her death. Just as her mortal remains
were being lowered into the grave, a bright streak of
sun was cast on them, perhaps emblematic of the ray
of glory which crowned her immortal spirit in
Heaven I
Lie down in peace to take thy rest,
Dear cherished form 1 no logger mine;
But, bearing in thy clay-cold breast,
A hidden germ of life divine,
Which, when the eternal spring shall bloom,
Will burst the shackles of the tomb.
Lie down in peace to take thy rest,
Unbroken will thy slumbers be ;
Satan can now no more molest,
And death has done his worst on thee.
Lie down, thy hallowed sleep to take,
Till clothed with glory thou shalt wake.
Lie down in peace to take thy rest,
We can no longer watch thy bed;
But glorious angels, spirits blest,
Shall guard thee day and night instead;
And when thy eyes unclosed shall be,
Christ, in his glory, they shall see.
6
obituary.
Lie down in peace to take thy rest,
My eyes must weep, my heart must mourn ;
But to the thought that thou art blest,
For comfort and for hope I turn ;
Thou wilt not mark these tears that flow ;
Sorrow can never reach thee now.
Lie down in peace to take thy rest;
Let me betake myself to prayer;
Binding faith's corslet on my breast,
Lest Satan find an entrance there.
God gave—though now his gift he claim—
Still, blessed be his holy name.
THOUGHTS
On the Dcalli of Miss Anna Perry, addressed to her Bereaved
Parents.
My Afflicted Friends: Were I inclined to
summon you to the occasion of your sorrow, that now
desolates your hearts, it could easily he done by a
plain statement of the recollections that crowd upon
you constantly, of the many excellencies, virtues and
graces that adorned the character and life of your
departed child. But as my object is to assist, in my
feeble way, to alleviate your sorrow, allow me to
employ your just recollections of her in such way as
to minister consolation to your burdened spirits. Had
she been less worthy of admiration, solicitude and
love, then your recollections of her must have been
less joyous, either as to your former possession, or as
to what is lost by you in her death. And as our own
lives, and all else that we possess, are loans from the
O B I f U A ft V.
7
GlVer of all good, then you are blessed in having had
such a treasure—a treasure of which you were justly
proud, and on account of which your friends called
you blessed—the favored of the Lord. But do you
mourn that her sufferings were great ? Then God has
released her from suffering. Has her beauty faded ?
Then God will clothe her in the habiliments of celestial
beauty and saintly attire. Is the charming excellence
of her character to be exhibited no more in the circle
of her earthly home, and for the pleasure of dear
relations ? Then God has removed her to a higher
sphere of action, where celestial graces are unceasingly
and uninterruptedly displayed in the society of heaven.
Was she one of the strongest ties .that bound your
hearts to earth ? Then God has removed her to a
better abode—to a " building of God, an house not
made with hands, eternal in the heavens," whither
your hearts may now ascend with more ardor, and
your desires ascend with more earnest expectation,
than before she was taken to dwell there. But is her
loved form now cold and dead ? and is it removed
from your sight ? Then God will watch over her dust
until the day of glorious restitution, when all that are
in their graves shall hear the voice of the Son of God,
and shall come forth, clothed with celestial beauty
and strength ; and when you, (as I humbly trust that
you are and will be, savingly interested in Jesus
Christ,) shall be raised up, with her, to enter that
uninterrupted society, and to enter upon that blissful
employment of the saints around God's throne.
Therefore, by her death, the recollections of the past
are hallowed—the present is rendered sacred in
the increased importance of its meditations and
8
IINE8.
responsibilities, and the future is lighted up Avith
brighter hopes and expectations.
I Avould, therefore, most heartily commend these
meditations to you, hoping that, by the grace of God,
they may be instrumental in leading you constantly
to the cross of Jesus Christ, and that, through his
Divine merits, and by his all-sufficient grace, you
may both become partakers in the saints' glorious
resurrection.
Please accept this sheet as an expression of my
sympathy in your affliction, and of my desire for your
happiness here and hereafter.
Yours, very sincerely,
S. S. GAILLARD.
Mr. and Mrs. B. F. Perry, Greenville, January 14,
1859.
LINES
On the Death of Miss Anna Perry.
Fair Girl 1 in life's sweet morning thou hast fled
From contaet with terrestrial things. The voice
Of Him who sits upon the throne, and rules
The movements of all worlds, and destinies
Of men, has called thee to thy final rest.
And thou art gone. Thy faded loveliness,
Thine ear deaf to all sounds, thine eye no more
With lustre beaming and with gentlest love,
Thy rigid features, the marble-coldness
Of thy brow, thy dreamless, wakeless, breathless
Sleep—all, all assert the presence and the
Reign of Death!
LINES.
9
Adorned with winning charms, thy
Maidenhood gave promise large of richest
Fruit in woman's blessed sphere. In feature
And in form graceful, with a warm heart and
Genial sympathies—endowed with the rich
Gift of intellect, and love of learning—
Thou wast admired and fondly loved by all
Thy young associates in the flowery paths
Of knowledge, and the social walks of life.
Thou wast thy parent's pride. Their fondest hopes
Centred in thee; expanded with the growth
Of thy fair form and maiden virtues ; lived
In thy life ; and, soaring high, exulted
In the prospect of long years of joy. Those
Hopes, erewhile, so fraught with scenes of coming
Blessedness, have felt, alas ! the blighting
Touch of man's last enemy ; and now they
Lie, withered, dead, and buried in the cold
Solitude of their sweet daughter's grave.
The
Hand of God's afflicting Providence lay
On thee long. Parental hearts with keenest
Anguish yearned, as month by month, they saw thy
Strength decline, thy beauty fade ; and felt the
Harrowing truth that soon they must resign their
Dearest treasure to the dust. Afflicted
Though thou wast, God's blessing with affliction
Came, chastened thy sorrows, soothed the achings
Of thy young heart, and planted there the germ
Of an immortal trust. No murmur 'scaped
Thy lips—thy bosom no repinings felt.
Thou wast prepared to die, A meek reliance
On thy Saviour's merits, and not on thy
Own virtues, gave inward peace, o'ermastered
Nature's dread of dying, and looked, with calm
10
LINES.
Expectancy of bliss, into the life
To come. Thy sun, so bright through its brief day,
Shone loveliest in its setting. Thy final
Words, whispered with labored breath, were fragrant
Still with filial love, proclaimed thy Christian
Faith, and breathed out thy dying heart's desires
For the eternal weal of those, so loved,
Who, crushed with pressure of unuttered woe,
Wept by thy pillow, and bent o'er thy form
To catch the parting whispers of thy pure
Spirit, ere it winged its way to happier
Climes.
Father in Heaven, bind up those stricken
Hearts. Pour thou into their bleeding wounds the
Healing consolations of thy love. And
Plant and nurture there blest hopes of heaven—the
Gift of grace supernal, and the precious
Growth of their loved Anna's lowly grave !
A
Stranger blends his tears with those by kindred
Shed o'er her untimely fall, and pays this
Heartfelt tribute to the memory of her
Buried loveliness. R. F.
Greenville, January 15,1859.
LINES
On the Death of Miss Anna Perry.
" O lay me in some pretty place,
By ray belov'd Papa,
WThen he shall sleep in death's embrace,
Beside my dear Mamma :
LINES.
11
And bid my little sister come,
With flowrets sweet and rare,
And strew them o'er my grassy tomb,
To spread their fragrance there."
Thus spoke the fond and dutiful,
Upon her dying day ;
Thus spoke the fair and beautiful,
Ere she had passed away.
Ah ! who would not desire to die
As pious Anna died,
And soar in triumph to the sky,
With seraphs at their side !
Then, o'er the couch of her repose
Let not a tear be shed ;
Nor aught of worldly cares or woes
Disturb her peaceful bed :
But sing some sweet and sacred lays
Above her place of rest;
And join her in the songs of praise
She sings among the blest;
And 'round her consecrated tomb
Let roses scent the air,
And hyacinths and lilies bloom
In all their sweetness there ;
And sightly evergreens invite
The little birds in spring,
To cheer the tedious hours of night,
And by her pillow sing.
CAROLAN.
Columbia, S. C., January 25, 1859.
12
LINES.
ANNA PERRY.
She sleeps as the flowers sleep,
When fades the day ;
She passed as the sunbeams pass,
Sweetly away.
She died as the zephyr dies,
Far o'er the lea;
As moonlight her memory lies
Over life's sea.
Here she was beautiful
As the young dawn—
What must her spirit be
Where she has gone!
Like the white morning cloud,
Kissed by the day,
E'en while we look on it,
Fading away.
Ah, me ! to miss her smile,
Glowing and bright—
To say, 'mid the gushing tears,
" Anna, good night."
Ah, me 1 to linger here,
When she has flown,
As all God's angels do,
Back to the throne !
ESTELLE.
January 16th, 1859.
LINES.
13
A TRIBUTE
To the Memory of my Young Friend, Anna Perry.
Gone in her youth and beauty,
Gone to the silent tomb ;
Gone from the hearts that loved her,
And left them in sorrow and gloom.
Gone from the hearts that are bleeding,
Gone from the tears that are shed ;
Gone to the quiet church-yard,
To sleep with the silent dead.
Gone from a world of sorrow,
Gone from the pain that opprest;
Gone through the lonely valley,
To dwell with the happy and blest.
Gone from all sin and temptation,
Gone from the world's eold frown;
Gone to the land of glory,
To wear an immortal crown.
Then cease ye fond hearts your sighing,
No longer let tears be shed;
The spirit ye loved is in Heaven,
'Tis only the body that's dead.
G. W. H.
Brighton, S. <7., January 28, 1859.
14
LINKS.
LINES
To Major and Mrs. B. FiZPerry^ on the Death^ of their
Daughter, Miss Anna Perry.
There'are sighs for the brave,
'Neath the war-spirit's power,
Whojn battle have sunk,
In its fearfullest hour:
Where the spears had shone brightest,
And sabres had flashed,
And chargers and riders
All earthward were dashed.
There are tears on the lids
Of each minstrel that calls
Their spirits to rest
In Valhallali's proud halls;
And sighs o'er the strings
Of the lute, 'mid its wail,
Will mingle in sorrow,
To hallow the tale.
But holier still
Are the tear-drops we pour
O'er the bier of the fair one
We are called to deplore;
And softer the chord
We would string to her name,
Than that which is wreath'd
With the warrior's fame.
Yes, peace to thy spirit—
Fair slumberer, rest;
LINES. 15
We calmly resign thee
To Heaven's behest:
Yet may not restrain
The wild grief-drops that start,
To see all the light
Of thy sweetness depart.
Yes, peace to thy spirit,
The glad, radiant light
Of bliss is around thee,
Though borne from our sight.
Thy sweet tones are mingled
In Heav'n's choral swell —
We call thee not, woo thee not —
Loved one, farewell!
From your sympathising friend,
J. D. ASHMORE.
February 10, 1859.
To Mrs. B. F. Perry:
If these lines, some of them, are not already familiar, per¬
haps they may contain some balm for the bereaved Mother's
heart, and so are offered without further apology, by
A SYMPATHIZING STRANGER.
THOUGHTS ON HEATH.
" This year thou shalt die."—Jeremiah, 28: 16.
I shall die in youth—yes, the flowers shall wave,
And the birds shall sing, o'er my early grave ;
For a voice hath whispered that Death is nigh,
And it bids me, " Prepare, prepare to die !"
16
LINES.
I shall die in youth—O! I would not stay
Till friends and friendships have faded away;
Till the billows of care o'er my heart have rolled,
And those that have loved me once grown cold.
I shall die in youth—ere I'm doomed to see
The visions of youth removed from me ;
Ere hopes are blighted, ere pleasures cease,
In my endless home I shall be at peace!
I shall die in youth—Oh ! e'en now I know
Enough, full enough of human woe ;
I have tasted the sweets of this fleeting earth,
I have seen enough of its senseless mirth.
1 shall die in youth—but my Father's voice,
That bade me " Prepare," bids me also " Rejoice !"
And shows me, by faith, beyond the tomb,
A home where true joys forever bloom.
I shall die in youth—yet I am not sad,
For the prospect of Heaven hath made me glad;
I shall meet with the friends who have gone before,
"Where friendship and friends shall part no more.
I shall die in youth—yet I fear not death,
But welcome to me is his icy breath ;
'T is an earnest to me of my Saviour's love,
That He calls me so soon to himself above.
I shall die in youth—0 ! what joy in the thought,
That the mansions which Christ with his blood hath bought,
Shall so soon be mine ! for then I shall see
My Saviour's face, who hath died for me I
I shall die in youth—in an hour or a day
That we know not of, we may pass away ;
For our breath is held in our Father's hand—
It cometh or goeth at His command.
LINES.
17
I shall die in youth—yet I cannot grieve
For the friends and the joys that on earth I leave;
For I know I shall meet my friends again,
When pleasure hath banished every pain.
I shall die in youth—Oh ! my Saviour, come,
And take me, oh! take me quickly home.
Tempted and tried, is my soul distressed,
And I long, oh ! I long for eternal rest.
Gone, gone forever,
Thou lovely and fair,
Like an early cloud flitting
On the sweet morning air.
Onward forever,
To thy home in the skies,
Where death cannot sever
The heart's cherished ties.
Upward forever,
On angel-wings rise,
Till thou rest'st with Jesus,
In his sweet Paradise.
Look up, my mother,
And dry the fond tear;
Dear father and brother,
This cross you must bear.
Sister, thou'lt meet me
In that far distant land;
Sweet friends, let me greet thee,
An unbroken band.
When death shall sever
The pale silver cord,
Ransomed forever,
I'll dwell with my Lord.
18
COMMUNICATION'.
The angels await—
My soul, wing thy way
Through Jesus, the gate,
To Life's endless day.
[From the Charleston Courier.—Communication.]
A THOUGHT OR TWO
On the Death of Miss Anna Perry, of Greenville, S. C.
This beautiful and interesting child of many hopes,
died the 12th of last month. To the writer, the
announcement in your paper was one of sadness.
True, she was not of his kith and kin, yet she was
the child of his friends, the companion of the children
of his love; amongst them he had often looked with
partial affection upon the budding hopes of her
beautifully developing youth and intelligence. The
last time he saw her was when the iron horse was
bearing her, with her father, mother and brothers, to
the North, and as he witnessed her farewell to one of
her young friends and school companions, he little
thought of the awful future of disease and death
which was before her. But that which is dark and
mysterious to the sons of earth, the writer has often
experienced is wisdom, truth and righteousness with
the Almighty Ruler of the Universe !
Often is he reminded of what was once said to him
by an aged man, whose words were wisdom—" the
young may die, the old must." Every day proclaims
the truth. The writer is now in his turn an old man,
he knows he must surely die; yet how often has he
communication.
19
seen the young and lovely taken away from his side,
and in misery and sadness he has exclaimed, " the
young may die." The young, like the budding rose,
nipped by an untimely frost, droops, withers and dies.
So, lovely Anna, days, weeks and months did'st thou
droop, wither and at last die !
The death-bed scene can be imagined, but it is
touching reality—who could bear it and not be
unmanned ? Clasping in her feeble arms her heart¬
broken father, she whispered, " Papa, I am going to
die; forgive me all I have done amiss to you and
prepare to meet me in heaven! I hope my Heavenly
Father will pardon my sins."
How beautiful, child-like and trustful was the answer
to the question, "Anna, where do you wish to be
buried ?" " In some pretty place, by papa !"
The death of such a child is, as the writer knows
by sad experience, a pang of almost death to parents;
but like the gleam of sunshine, which broke through
the clouds as she descended to the grave, so the blessed
words, " Suffer little children to come unto me and
forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of
Heaven," break through the clouds and tears of
sorrowing and weeping parents, and whisper comfort
and peace, by assuring them that their child is in
Heaven, and that they may seek and find her in the
freshness of glorious, everlasting youth and beauty.
20
SERMON.
AN EXTRACT
From a Sermon preached on the Death of Anna Perry, a
young girl of seventeen years, belonging to the Parish of
Christ Church, Greenville, S. C.
BY REV. THOMAS S. ARTHUR.
The text was from St. Luke, VIII: 52—last clause: " Weep not;
she is not dead, but sleepeth."
Having shown the Saviour's real meaning in these words,
the main point discussed was, that " the true life of man is
distinct from his body and independent of its fate." And
having developed the consoling views resulting from this teach¬
ing of Scripture, the subject was continued thus :
And yet, my brethren, death will continue to be perfectly
abhorrent to human nature. There is an instinctive attach¬
ment to life, no less than an instinctive aversion to death, which
God, for wise purposes, implanted in our bosom. Reason about
it as much as we may, we can never reason away this abhor¬
rence. There is much in the gloom of the grave—in the " sad
images of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, and breathless
darknessthere is much in the silence and loneliness of the
narrow chamber ; there is much in the ruin and decay to which
our bodies are destined in the cold damp sepulchre, from which
our hearts revolt. In death is seen the vigorous form of man¬
hood tottering to its fall; the perfect specimen of grace and
beauty withering before the Sirocco blast; the speaking coun¬
tenance blanched; the bright eye gazing imploringly upon the
forms in which it most delighted, losing its lustre and becoming
glazed by the damp dews of the grave; and more than all
these, the sundering of the tenderest and dearest ties of the
human heart.
These gloomy thoughts and associations are repugnant to all
men ; but upon the heart and affections of the young, the hap¬
py, the blessed, they fall with all the crushing weight of the
SERMON.
21
mountain avalanche. To the young and happy, the termina¬
tion of any course of pleasure is painful. The last hour spent
amid old familiar scenes—the last siglit of dear, familiar ob¬
jects—always stirs up emotions of deep regret, even when they
hope the separation is only for a short time. How much more
painful when their adieu is an eternal one! Where there is
everything to make life desirable and attractive, to think of
resting their heads upon a dying pillow; to think that the
bright sun, which carries cheer to the young heart, shall shine
no more for them; to think that those dear, familiar scenes,
where father and mother, brother, sister, formed a happy and
unbroken home-circle, shall never more shed its joy for them.
Amid such thoughts crushing the young heart, no wonder they
should dread to utter the last farewell! And an honestly ex¬
pressed desire to continue amid such scenes is no evidence of
a want of preparation to enter into that state of rest " where
the wicked cease from troubling." But these are deliberate,
formal expressions of feeling, which do indicate, very nearly,
the condition of the dying before God. The former are but
the out-spoken dictates of natural feeling; the latter are the
deep convictions of the heart in its calmest and soberest mo¬
ments.
These reflections have been suggested by the melancholy
event which has brought together this large and sympathizing
assembly. We stand near the new-made grave of a gifted
young girl, whose slow and silent passing away must have
touched the hearts of us all. For more than a year she strug¬
gled against the assaults of a disease, which deceptively min¬
gled strong hope with the startling premonitions of decay,
which were ever and anon developed. Amid this uncertainty
she was not, however, without thoughts of death ; and of those
deliberate expressions of feeling, to which I have referred, she
left many as a consoling legacy to her weeping family. She
was eminently a thoughtful girl, and as her dissolution drew
near, frequently declared she had meditated often of death and
her soul's welfare; and during the last hours of her life she
verified it by exhibiting the clearest possible evidence of deep
conviction of her sinfulness. On more than one occasion she
exclaimed, " I am too bad to go to heaven—I am not fit!" and
when assured by those who knew her best that she had always
been in the highest degree exemplary, and reminded of her
tender and affectionate disposition, her humble reply was ever
the same—" Oh, you do not know me !" And when told of
22
SERMON.
the inhnite merits of Christ, with all the earnestness of her
soul she prayed God to have mercy on her. She felt the hea¬
vy burden of her sins; she mourned on account of them ; she
carried them to Christ, and there plead to be released from
them—thus exhibiting the Scriptural tests of repentance and
faith, which are the out-growth of the grace of God imparted
to the soul, and the evidence of a vital union with Christ, by
virtue of which alone could she enter into the rest prepared for
the people of God. Her entire history evinces the realitv of
the mighty work which the Holy Spirit is performing on the
earth, and rebukes the sentiments of materialists 011 the one
hand, who esteem religion as no more than the out-growth of
a higher civilization, and of formalists, on the other, who re¬
gard it as simply a system of external formal observances. It
forcibly illustrates the truth that it is a power on the earth as
real and potent in its effects as any of the mighty agencies of
the physical world.
Adopted into the family of God in infancy, she was carefully
trained in His ways, and though, from, the circumstances of
her "state in life," and the natural buoyancy of her tempera¬
ment, she may have been much occupied with the thoughts of
time, yet that grace received in childhood, restrained, controlled
and tied her heart to God, and when the inevitable hour
approached, though she shrank from the darkness of its valley
and shadow, enabled her to rest securely and firmly on the
word of His promise. It was then that grace, so long received
and nurtured, put forth its strength and developed some of its
matured fruits in her heart. There was more than the inci-
piency of repentance and faith manifested by her, as indicated
by an earnest desire for the salvation of others—her loving
friends—and joy in the hope that her death might be the
means of saving the dearest of them. When her mother
asked if she was sorry for her sins, she replied with deep feel¬
ing: "Just as sorry as I can be;" and then looking on her
only sister, said: " Mamma, do not bring up Fannie for this
world ; and, Fannie, do not you put off repenting as long as I
have." And again, when her mother—faithful to her to the
last—said: "Perhaps, my darling, your death may be the
means of our all going to heaven," she exclaimed, with deep
emotion, " O, then, I am willing to go. Papa, come here ! O,
I am willing to die, if it will be the means of saving your
soul; you must meet me in heaven."
SERMON.
23
Behold ! the touching scene ! The young girl, surrounded
by all that renders life a charm, amidst the loving friends
clinging to her to the last, bidding adieu, a long, last adieu, to
all she loved and cherished, as she steps forth all alone, to
tread the dark portals of the tomb rejoicing! " O, death,
where is thy sting? Oh, grave, where is thy victory?"
Long ago, when but eight years old, in attending the month¬
ly examinations of the children of this Church, I well remem¬
ber her earnest and thoughtful inquiries concerning the blood
of Christ and the way of salvation. On one occasion, when
she answered the second question in the Church Catechism
pertaining to baptism, she repeated with so much feeling the
words: " Wherein, I was made a member of Christ, the child
of God, and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven," that I
asked: " Anna, do you believe what you have said ?" Prompt¬
ly she replied, "To be sure I do, sir." After I had cited the
passages of Scripture on which the answer is based, I asked
her again : " Do you then really feel that you are not a wan¬
derer in the world's wilderness, uncared for and untaught, but
belong to the fold—a lamb carefully housed within the fold of
Christ ?" She replied, " I try to feel so, sir, and have often
thought how happy it is for children that Christ cares for them
as a shepherd does for the lambs of his flock." I then 'asked
again : " Anna, do you love God ?" With evident surprise at
my question, she quickly answered, " To be sure I do, sir!"
She was then but nine years old, and ever after that, sitting
just there, her seat was never vacant; her questions and an¬
swers evinced a mind, not only of the most thoughtful cast,
but clearly under the influence and guidance of the grace of
God. Hence it was, that with death staring her in the face,
the gloom of the grave, the coffin, the winding-sheet, with a
clear and unclouded mind, she approached her end with so
much trust and composure. The evidence of her firm confi¬
dence in God is most abundant. She carefully arranged for
her death, disposed of her valued mementoes, spoke of where
she wished to be buried, and most touchingly begged her sister
and young companions to place a bunch of violets, every Sun¬
day, on her grave. Nay, she charged her father to carry her
little brothers to her grave, and there tell them about her.
And, last of all, she asked to be forgiven any word of unkind-
ness she may ever have uttered ; and when her father assured
her she had always been a good daughter to him, she said she
freely forgave all who had ever done or wished her evil.
24
SERMON.
In everything, from early childhood, she exhibited, in a
marked degree, the virtues and graces of the highest style of
human nature, as well as those which flow from God's grace.
Unselfish, and generous to a fault, kind and forgiving towards her
companions, obedient and dutiful to her parents, loving and affec¬
tionate in the home circle, her departure sundered the tenderest
chords of the human heart. Gifted with a firm and solid in¬
tellect, which was carefully stored with the treasures of know¬
ledge, and enriched and adorned by cultivation, she will be
mourned by all who can appreciate beauty and refinement in
woman's character. Endowed by the Holy Ghost with true
repentance and faith in Christ, she has left behiud her a sign,
which shall be a comfort to those who loved her, and a testi¬
mony to the truth of religion, which the reflecting will not
contemplate in vain. Just as her graces were maturing into
the full perfection of womanhood, the death-wind blew, and
she passed away from us—passed away, as she affectingly said,
to join little Susie.* Around her memory shall ever cluster
bright tokens of affection and friendship, whilst her soft and
impressive words to her companions will be embalmed among
the choicest treasures of their hearts. To all, especially to
the young, her example of patient endurance, during a long
twelve-month of suffering, and her trust in God, must ever be a
noble incentive to exertion in the paths of virtue and peace.
Her form has faded from our sight; no more shall her win¬
ning voice be heard, " when the spring-time comes, and the
wild flowers are scattered o'er the plain." She has passed
away; the death-wind has blighted the first buds of youth;
" the flower of love lies bleeding!" But, her grave !—that is
with us; ay, and the ever blooming violets, so copstantly to
shed their fragrance on its mound, shall be to her young com¬
panions the sweet emblem of her own undying life in that
land where flowers never fade and beauty knows no decay.
For
" She is not dead, the child of our affection,
But gone unto that school
Where she no longer needs our poor protection,
And Christ himself doth rule.
In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion,
By guardian angels led,
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution,
She lives whom we call dead."
* Her cousin, who died about a year before, and whom she loved dearly.
SERMON. 25
She is gone, but her grave is with us—that grave of saddest
interest—the first of her family, the first of her age, the young
girl just blooming into womanhood—which has ever been made
in this hallowed ground. Many have been laid here before
her, but none like her—the young " maiden in her blossoming
years cut off." Here lies the venerable man whose sun, after a
full, bright day of success and peace, in an unclouded evening
sky, " sank where islands of refreshment lie," its latest beams
shedding joy and comfort over the scene where he illustrated
his Christian profession by a life of practical benevolence and
hospitality towards all men. By his side rests the honored
matron, the partner of his bosom, to whose Christian zeal
and energy, more than to any other, perhaps, was due the first
organization of this Congregation. Here lies the strong man,
cut down in the meridian splendor of his day, snatched from
his fireside and family—his wife a widow, his children orphans ;
he was honored and mourned by a large circle of friends.
Here, too, is the little girl of six bright summers, the light of
whose countenance still lives in a mother's memory, and the
echo of whose voice still breathes in her ear. And here, too,
lies the sweet babe, the tender rosebud, not yet blown, trans¬
planted to a more congenial clime,
" Ere its expanding soul
Had ever burnt with wrong desires,
Had ever spurned at Heaven's control,
Or ever quenched its sacred fires."
And now, we have the grave of Anna; and as time rolls
on, you will, one by one, add another and another to the num¬
ber of those graves. O, then, remember the teaching of that
grave ! You, too, must die ! O, remember, when you behold
the evergreen, the rosebud, the violets on that grave, there is
"a land of pure delight," a land of repose from sorrow and
suffering; a land of light and peace ; a land strikingly em-
blemized by that bright flood of sun-light which illumed her
grave ere yet it was closed over her body.* Yes, a true and
cheering emblem of the Sun of Righteousness, which first dis¬
pelled the gloom of the sepulchre, when, rising Conqueror over
death and the grave, He " brought life and immortality to
light."
* The day of Anna's burial was gloomy, and the elements seemed to
weep over her death; but just as her body was committed to the
ground, a bright flood of sun-light enveloped the coffin.
26
SERMON.
From the grave of the voung maiden faintly echoes the
gentle charge—" Meet me in Heaven !" To her own family,
first given, it shall be latest, nay, never, forgotten. To her
young companions let it ever be present, as the last charge of
one who, though parting with all this life can bestow, yet
looked to a life of higher and nobler things. It is now the
voice of an angel—it was her own parting word with her fond
mother, if permitted she would hover about her pathway
through life, her guardian angel. It is then the voice of an
angel still calling you on to the realms of glory. And, stand¬
ing here by her new-made grave, I solemnly charge you to
heed that call. Haste thee to be wise! Time speeds on; the
shadow upon the dial-plate stays not, though you finger, anu
the inevitable hour will overtake you ere you think. Then
heed the call from the spirit-land, that when thy summons
comes,
" Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon ; but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams."
Weep not for her, then, but weep for yourselves. Weep
not for her ; her sorrows are past; her tears are dried, and her
heart is full of joy. " She is not dead," as we esteem death,
but she " sleepeth," resting from her sufferings " in Abraham's
bosom."
Slowly and sadly you laid her down amidst a flood of sunlight,
bright emblem of the hope of " the general resurrection in
the last day, and the life of the world to come, through our
Lord Jesus Christ, at whose second coming in glorious majesty,
to judge the world, the earth and the sea shall give up their
dead." Then shall be demonstrated the truth that she " sleep¬
eth," when the mighty Conqueror, standing, as it were, by that
grave, shall utter the joyful words : " Talitlta Cumi!"—" Dam¬
sel, I say unto thee, arise !" and arrayed in the immortal gar¬
ments of a " spiritual body," she shall ascend to join in the loud
strains of praise to God and to the Lamb. Long, solitary and
undisturbed may be her slumbers, but when the trumpet of
eternity shall pour its thunder notes into the deaf, cold ear of
the grave, she shall rise to meet you around these consecrated
walls, where, amidst the rolling away of the heavens and the
rending of the earth, quick greetings will be exchanged among
you all. Yes, her God-created form shall spring to life, im-
LETTERS.
21
mortal and renewed, shining with the impress of the seal of
heaven, and decked with every beauty and every splendor
befitting the heir of immortality. Weep not, then ; let not
the voice of your weeping disturb her quiet repose; but pre¬
pare to meet her in heaven ; prepare, by taking refuge in
Christ, to welcome her own fair person on the Resurrection
Morn—prepare to meet your God.
LETTERS.
Charleston, Jan. 21, 1859.
My Dear Friend: Permit me to unite a tear of sympathy
with those which have been shed over the grave of your de¬
parted daughter. I have read with deep interest the account
of her last illness, and avail myself of the bright hope which
it offers as a consolation for so great an affliction. Death, at
last, is but a curtain stretched across the pathway of existence ;
and if, beyond that curtain, the eye of faith can see the ob¬
jects of its affection safely nestled in the bosom of an almighty
and loving Father, enjoying all the blessings with which he can
surround them, then, indeed, we may exclaim with the Apostle,
" O, Death, where is thy sting!" I have often, after the
death of some cherished Christian friend or relative, pictured
to myself the Heaven in which they are, and the earnestness
with which they must look for our coming to that happy home ;
and it has seemed to me that Heaven itself was made more
attractive, and less strange, by the fact that these bright friends
were there, ready to welcome our arrival. How much it
seems to add to our desires to be one of that company of
saints in light! and although, in truth, God and the Saviour
are all in all, yet, to our finite human capacities, these hopes of
meeting our dearest children or parents, husbands, wives or
friends, are amongst the cherished expectations beyond the grave.
In this respect your bright and gentle daughter is seated at the
footstool of the Saviour, pointing to her honored and well-be¬
loved parents, and is looking forward with earnest expectation
to the time when she shall welcome them each through the
gates of Heaven; and looking forward to this same blessed
meeting, I feel assured that you will lose no time in securing
28
LETTERS.
your access to the same mansions of blessedness. Our Saviour,
Jesus Christ, says " I am the door, I am the way; no man
can enter but by me; and whosoever cometh unto me I will
in no wise cast out."
May God, of his infinite mercy, guide you safely in this way,
so that you and I may yet again and again have the pleasure
of meeting with your glorified daughter as a saint in Heaven.
Very truly yours,
C. G. MEMMINGER.
Col. B. F. Perry, Greenville, S. C.
Five Oaks, near Barnwell C. H.,)
January 21, 1859. [
My Dear Perry : Although I was not unprepared, yet,
when I opened the paper this afternoon, and saw that sweet
Anna was dead, it struck a pain to my heart. My dear wife
and girls were near me, and we read over the announcement
only to feel how desolate and heart-stricken you and your dear
wife must feel. Our girl of seventeen stood by, sympathizing,
as I read the sad news, and we knew, as we looked at her, how
crushing and heart-rending is the blow which God, in his Pro¬
vidence, has inflicted on you. I do not write to comfort you,
my friend, for your own brave heart and self-reliant spirit will
sustain you in this sore trial. I merely wish to tell the father
and mother of Anna, who used to play with me when we met
in Columbia, that away down here there is a father and a mo¬
ther who weep with them in their sorrow, and pray God to
comfort them in their affliction. God bless you—farewell.
A. P. ALDRICH.
Hon. B. F. Perry.
Charleston, Jan. 22d, 1859.
Dear Perry: On opening this morning's Courier I was dis¬
tressed to find true what I had long feared—the death of your
dear child, Anna. If I could, I would impart consolation to
you and your wife. No one knows better than I do the bitter
anguish which parents experience on seeing their loved ones
committed to the silent house. No one has experienced more
fully the consolation, that such as your daughter "are of the
Kingdom of Heaven."
LETTERS.
29
I would, therefore, say to you and your amiable lady, weep
not. Your child has only gone before. A few brief years,
and then you will be united where sorrow is unknown.
Accept the best wishes of a friend who sorrows with you in
your deep affliction. Your friend,
JOHN BELTON O'NEALL.
To B. F. Perry, Esq.
Columbia, S. C., Jan. 23d, 1859.
My Dear Sir: If it is not an intrusion upon the sanctity
of your grief, permit me to express my most sincere condo¬
lence for the heart-rending bereavement which has overwhelmed
your house with sorrow and sadness. The contemplation of
death, under any circumstances, is indeed melancholy; but I
feel that this case is peculiarly calculated to call forth the ten-
derest sympathies of human nature. The combination of
lovely traits which clustered around the character of Anna,
was such as to awaken a response in every true heart. It
seems to us a pity that so much of the finer emotions of vir¬
tue, so much of the nicer sensibilities of humanity, so much
of all that is refining and charming in woman, should not be
permitted to develope and spread its divine influence over the
world. It is sad that the beautiful bud, which was about to
expand into the perfect blossom, and fill the air with its hea¬
ven-born fragrance, should be blighted by the icy touch of
Death, ere its sweetness could refresh and encourage those
who nursed and cherished its growth! But the ways of God
are " past finding out." Between the finite intellect of man,
and the infinite conceptions of Deity, the chasm is too vast to
be bridged by human ken. We must bow in humility before
His inscrutable decrees.
My dear sir, I am most deeply sensible of how utterly in¬
competent my words are to mitigate the pangs which rend the
feelings of the afflicted mother and father. I know too well
that scarcely an object can meet a parent's eye, soon af¬
ter the death of a child, which does not bring that child
before him ; thus apparently aggravating, at every instant, the
sorrow which was felt the very moment preceding. The rela¬
tion of the object lost to all the plans which have engaged,
and all the hopes which they have been forming, must be a
source of perpetually-recurring misery. How readily the de¬
lightful cares of education in past years, and the equally de-
30
letters.
lightful hopes in years that were to come, arise to embitter
the anguish of the present! But we should be thankful that
by the benevolent arrangements of Heaven, man cannot long
be wretched from such overwhelming griefs; and that sorrow,
even though it had nothing else to comfort it, derives a never-
failing comfort from the very continuance of affliction. Time
is truly the comforter, at once lessening the tendency to sug¬
gestion of images of sorrow, and softening the grief, when the
images arise, into a sort of gentle tenderness.
Although unable to afford any mitigation of the poignancy
of the affliction which now oppresses Mrs. Perry and yourself,
yet, we have thought that it might be some slight consolation
to know that there are friends who appreciated the rare vir¬
tues of your daughter; who are conscious of the magnitude
of the loss, and who most willingly commingle their tears with
those of the bereaved parents.
With feelings of great sympathy, I remain
Yours, most sincerely,
JOHN LeCONTE.
Maj. B. F. Perry.
Madison, Jan. 24, 1859.
My Dear Friend : Although the sad event of which your
letter informs me had been long anticipated, it has caused me
much real sorrow. I know how a nature like yours, ardent,
intense and affectionate, will be overwhelmed by it. I know
this all the more from having experienced the same heavy
calamity. With natures finely touched, there is no feeling so
deep as the love of a father for a daughter. Coarse men love
their sons most. It is a selfish feeling, but with those of gen¬
erous and refined feelings there is no affection so deep and ten¬
der as a father's love for a daughter—none so free from the
drops of selfish passion.
I will not obtrude upon the sacredness of your sorrows by
any attempt at consolation. There is really none but that
which time and occupation affords. There are, however, al¬
leviations. We mourn the dead, as if death were not the lot
of us all; and, wisely considered, how unimportant is it when
that death occurs; a few years, more or less, in this world of
sorrow and trouble—of sorrow and trouble to us all—especial¬
ly so to woman, whose whole life is one of trouble and suffer-
LETTERS.
31
ing. Even her happiness mainly consists in sacrificing for
others. What greater object of solicitude than a young girl
just budding into womanhood ? Who can predict her destiny ?
In my whole life I have known but few good husbands, as good
as a pure, good woman is entitled to expect. If there is an¬
other life, which I am sure you do not doubt, what matters it
when this is ended, especially to the good and pure, and, as
my wife said, when I told her the sad intelligence, " Never did
a purer spirit ascend to Heaven." I am as sure as I am that
I hold this pen in my hand, that she is so perfectly and bliss¬
fully happy that if you could only realize it, you would not
have her here again if you could. Her pure nature has been
translated to heaven,
Ere sin had yet stained it, or earth had profaned
What was born for the skies.
We must look at life as a whole; not at isolated passages.
Yours has been peculiarly blessed. In all the circle of my ac¬
quaintance I know none more so. You have a large and pro¬
mising family. You must expect bereavements. It is the lot
of humanity. You have a competent fortune and income,
the result of your own honest and intellectual labor—much
more valuable than if you had inherited it. In the stormy
life which you have passed through, you have preserved that
priceless jewel of spotless reputation. Others as*yeo£rable as
you are have not been so fortunate. I have found in all my
afflictions—and they have not been few or slight—great con¬
solation in comparing my lot with that of others. Look at
the condition of Gen. Pierce—all his children dead and his
wife dying; old Mrs. Butler, who, of her seven noble sons
and one daughter, only one survived her. 1 would not have
you not mourn your sweet and lovely child—I should think
the less of you if you did not—but only that you should not
mourn as one without hope or consolation. I am sure I need
not assure you of my deep and affectionate sympathy in your
sorrows.
Most truly, your friend,
W. THOMPSON.
B. F. Perry, Esq.
32
LETTERS.
Newberry, Jan. 27, 1859.
My Dear Sir: On my return, the other day, (for I have
been absent some time,) I was pained to see the death of your
lamented daughter, Anna, announced. I have tasted the bit¬
ter cup again and again, and can therefore more fully feel and
sympathize with the afflicted. Yet, how can I address you,
or offer human consolation for a mind which must bleed afresh
at every attempt to assuage it. Truly and sincerely do I sym¬
pathize with you in so sad a bereavement. May the all-merci¬
ful Father bind up your broken hearts ! Ah ! what a loss
you have sustained! The beautiful obituary and other notices
do not say a word too much. But she is not, and the arrow-
that has wounded your fond hopes so deeply, has pierced mine
also. But how much there is of consolation in your bereave¬
ment! How thankful you should be that God ever gave you
such a child ! How thankful that he permitted you to enjoy
the blessing so long ! And now that he has reclaimed the
precious loan, let not your hearts rebel against his Providence.
Your dear Anna has gone "from the evil to come." The
pain which has wrung your hearts she will never experience.
Who would detain such lovely spirits in so sad and sinful a
world ? Surely the lambs are better off with the Shepherd.
What a treasure you have now in Heaven ! God has taken
your sweet child in order to attract your affections to Himself.
O, that the gracious design may be realized in the happy re¬
sult ! Dear parents, make this the aim of your life, to meet
your daughter in Heaven. You, my dear sir, know full well
where to go for consolation in such a season as this—consola¬
tion ten thousand times better than these poor words of mine
can give. O, what a solace the love of Jesus is at such a time!
If this affliction should be the means of your salvation, what
reason you will have to bless God forever for the dispensation.
I was forcibly struck with the first words of Mrs. S., after read¬
ing the obituary—" The last visit which I made her, I saw in
the languid countenance the smile of complacent resignation
to the will of Heaven." How truly has the poet said:
" Whatever farce the boastful hero plays,
Virtue alone has majesty in death."
The cold hand of death has frozen up many of the streams
of our early friendship ; the congelation is gaining upon our
vital powers and marking us for the tomb. " May we so num¬
ber our days as to apply our hearts unto wisdom." If we live
letters.
33
to old age, string after string is severed from the heart, until
we have scarcely anything left to resign but breath.
How true is this in my case. A few more strings cut, and I
have no ties to bind me to this world. Most of my ties are
already in Heaven. In domestic life your own heart, alone,
can do justice to her memory.
Out of your immediate circle, you have not any one who
more sincerely and affectionately sympathizes with you, or
who more fervently supplicates the Supreme Being to support
and sustain you, than your sorrowing friend,
R. STEWART.
Major B. F. Perry.
Trenton, Feb. 4th, 1859.
My Dear Sir : A few days since I received a copy of the
" Obituary Notices and Poems" on the death of your beautiful
daughter, Anna, and I thank you most sincerely for the mourn¬
ful token of your friendly regard for me. It gives me great
pain that our acquaintance and pleasant visit at Nahant and
St. Mary's Hall should have had such an unlooked for termi¬
nation ; and I assure you it has awakened the deepest sympa¬
thies of our hearts for yourself and Mrs. Perry. Indeed, I
can scarcely realize, nor am I willing to realize the sad truth,
that the bright, young face has passed away from earth—as
the light of her eyes and the tones of her voice come so visi¬
bly before me. I can express my sorrow, but consolation can
not yet be offered to you. Your grief now needs recognition
and sympathy; but hereafter will come the soothing feeling
that the youth and loveliness of your dear Anna will bloom
perennially ; that there is now no change or decay for her;
and although she cannot come to you, yet you can go to
her. With the hope, therefore, that we may all meet in
that better land, I remain
Most sincerely yours,
G, A. PERDICARIS.
Col. B. F. Perry, Greenville, S. C.
Columbia, Jan. 25th, 1859.
My Sad and Sorrowing Friends: A heart less grateful
than mine could not remain unmoved at the sad intelligence
of your daughter's death. Believe me, when I say I deeply
34
LETTERS.
sympathize with you in your bereavement. Well do I know,
by sad experience, the depth of your grief, for, alas, I have but
recently consigned to the grave a beloved daughter myself.
But the consolations of religion are ours, and the hopes of
meeting our children again should alleviate our sorrows and
animate us in pursuing the road that leads to their heavefily
homes.
The death of your lovely daughter has called forth from me
the lines over the signature of " Carolan,"* as an humble tri¬
bute to her memory, and if spared to see Greenville once more,
I must take the sad privilege of shedding a tear over her grave.
THOMAS FREAN.
To Mr. and Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Cambridge, Feb. 1, 1859.
My Dear Friend: A few days ago I received, through the
Post Office, a touching account of the character and early
death of Anna Perry. My inference is that this lovely and
Christian person was your sister, and that you sent me the
pamphlet. Let me thank you for doing so. It is not only a
personal® gratification to know that you remembered me so far
away, and thought of me in connection with your great be¬
reavement; but the record of such a life and such a departure,
so elevated and sustained by the hopes of the Gospel, reani¬
mates and strengthens my own faith. Nothing is more im¬
pressive than such testimony, especially in the young. It
proves religion not to be a phantom, a fable or a dream, but a
most noble and cheering reality. It proves that a devout
heart belongs not only to the old, the weary, the disappointed,
the unfortunate, but that it has a beautiful and right place in
the midst of youth, promise, joy ; and I greatly value every¬
thing that has this influence, because I think too many in
early life practically treat the claims of Christian truth as if
they had nothing to do with that period—the very period
when temptation needs Christian defences most, and when the
freshest and fairest offering can be made to the Saviour.
This sketch reminds me anew of the unspeakable worth of
a good sister to her brothers. A gentle, purifying, restraining
and encouraging influence comes from her nature, such as we
find nowhere else in the world. This I know by experience,
* To be found on pages 10 and 11.
LETTERS.
35
and so I am brought into closer sympathy with you. I, too,
was parted from a beloved sister in the same way, before I was
near your age. It was just after I was'graduated. Her love
and pride had been a great stimulus to me in my studies.
When she died, it was as if a calm and luminous star had been
struck out of my sky. But it was not so. She, too—my
Mary, like your Anna—believed in Christ, and knew in whom
she believed. Her treasure was laid up in Heaven. The star
was only lifted and set in a higher, serener and sinless firma¬
ment. And there they both shine, forever and forever, before
the throne of God. Many and many a time has that image
of the departed risen up before me, wheu I was about to do
wrong, and beckoned me to a better way, or warned me back.
This spiritual guardianship is well expressed in a hymn which
I enclose, and which I know you will like to read.
I can easily conceive that this death throws a sadness over
the vacation which you had doubtless hoped to enjoy as a glad
and festive season. For this I sorrow with you. Yet, I am
not quite sure that we ought to regard it as a calamity. Cer¬
tainly, it will not be so if it is the means of leading any soul
into a regenerate life—the path that shines brighter and bright¬
er and brighter unto the perfect day. And so I have seen
these bitter sorrows end, again and again. How often it re¬
quires some such pain of the heart to break up our worldli-
ness, scatter our delusions, and bring us to the grace and the
power of a true discipleship. This is our Father's way with us—
" a way that we know not." It is humiliating that our poor,
weak and selfish souls should need such sharp discipline. But
we ought rather to be thankful that He never forgets us,
and that he would draw us up to our immortal home by the
attractions of these ascended spirits. That beam of sunlight
that broke in on the burial scene was a symbol of the light
that faith discovers on the retreating cloud of grief.
My dear friend, I pray that you may be comforted, and com¬
forted with the only sure consolation—a penitent, believing,
consecrated heart. Let all the solemn and tender thoughts
and associations that gather about you now, while the sense of
loss is keen, pass into decision, choice—an inward and outward
dedication of yourself to the Master's service. Let not the
Holy Messenger pass by and be lost. Then you will have a
strong,' happy, Christian manhood. Your education will honor
God and man ; your learning will be useful; your eternity
will know no gloom. Your reunion with your sister, and
36 letters.
your friendship with all the good—the " pure in heart" who
" see God" and are " blessed"—will not fail.
The testimonial you were kind enough to send me, reminds
me of another, relating to a student here, which I venture to offer
you in return.
May God bless and comfort you and all your bereaved
family. Yours, cordially and sincerely,
F. D. HUNTINGTON.
To William H. Perry, Student of Harvard College.
Another hand is beckoning us,
Another call is given,
And glows once more, with angel stepSj
The path that leads to Heaven.
0, half we deemed she needed not*
The changing of our sphere,
To give to Heaven a shining one
Who walked an angel here.
Unto our Father's will, alone,
One thought hath reconciled :
That He, whose love exceedeth ours,
Hath taken home His child.
Fold her, 0 Father, in thine arms!
And let her henceforth be
A messenger of love between
Our human hearts and Thee !
Still let her, mild, rebuking, stand
Between us and the wrong,
And her dear memorj serve to make
Our faith in goodness strong 1
Columbia, February 1st, 1859.
Dear Madam: I have received a copy of the Mountaineer,
and also a pamphlet containing some touching memorials of
your departed daughter, and tributes of affection and respect
to her memory. My tardiness in gratefully acknowledging the
receipt of these evidences of your kind remembrance, has been
owing to the fact of my not knowing, until lately, to whom I
was indebted for them.
Having, a few years ago, lost a lovely daughter, who had
just reached her twentieth year, you may conceive how sincerely
LETTERS. 8*7
I can sympathize with yourself and husband on the occasion of
the severe bereavement with which it has pleased God to visit
you. In the brief interview I enjoyed with your lamented
child, when here, I was most favorably impressed with the ex¬
ceeding gentleness and meekness of her appearance and de¬
meanor, and I felt sure that, if favored with further opportu¬
nities of seeing her, I would find in her not only a truly inter¬
esting, but an humble and devout recipient of the truths and
promises of our holy religion. As circumstances, however,
deprived me of the satisfaction of again visiting her, I am
much gratified at learning, from the testimonials you have
sent me, of the pious and affecting incidents of her closing
hours.
By such consolations as these afford, the weight of your af¬
fliction must be sensibly lightened. While your daughter
lived, it formed one of the chief elements of your earthly joy
to administer to her happiness. Now, therefore, that you can
entertain the supporting hope that her felicity has been secured
in an immeasurably higher degree, both as to its extent and
duration, than it could have been by the utmost efforts of pa¬
rental tenderness and assiduity, the grief for your own loss of
her sweet society cannot but be greatly mitigated by the sense
of her infinite gain. The value of this conviction of the in¬
effable and eternal bliss of the redeemed in Christ, which we
derive from Revelation, none can so truly appreciate as those
who have been called, like you, to part with the "desire of
their eyes," and the cherished objects of their hearts' most in¬
most affections. Next, indeed, to the inestimable gift of our
adorable Saviour, there is no boon of Heaven to man more
precious and priceless, and more comforting to the bereaved
bosom, than the clear communication, through the Gospel,
of that enduring life and that transporting immortality beyond
the grave, upon which we fervently trust your beloved daugh¬
ter has entered.
I might add many other considerations of encouragement
and solace to you in this season of your tribulation, but, being
comparatively a stranger to you, I fear lest I might intrude too
far upon sorrows so sacred as scarcely to be touched, except
by the hand of intimate and endeared friendship, or of a pas¬
toral love so sustaining and sympathizing as that which you
enjoy in the counsels and intercourse of your esteemed Rector.
With a renewal of my thanks, therefore, for the publica¬
tions with which you have been good enough to furnish me,
38
letters.
I will add no more than the expression of the sincere condo¬
lence with you and yours of
Verv respectfully, your ob't serv't,
PETER J. SHAND.
Mrs. B. F. Perry, Greenville, S. C.
Christ Church Rectory, April 14th, 1859.
My Dear Madam: The valuable and beautiful present
wbicb you have done me the honor to bestow upon me—a
token of confidence and esteem—as a memorial of her who,
though removed from our sight, " is not dead, but sleepeth,"
whilst it awakens sad memories of her untimely departure,
also reminds us of the grounds of our sure hope of her salva¬
tion. The gift itself—the Book of Common Prayer—being
not only a guide to devotion, but a transcript of the life and
character of the Great Exemplar, through which may be mould¬
ed the highest style of the Christian, is of no ordinary value.
And it is most appropriate as a memento of one who, though
young, had been cast in this mould. For not only had her
devotions, from earliest childhood, ascended to God in the hal¬
lowed words of those ancient prayers, but the sacred offices
there provided for the lambs of the flock had been a study in
which her young heart took especial delight. Her attention
had been directed especially to the Catechism; and whilst its
" form of sound words" were treasured up in her memory, she
fully imbibed its true spirit. And although circumstances pre¬
vented her from receiving the promised blessings of Confirma¬
tion, yet she had in effect taken upon herself the vows of
that holy office.
She left for her parents and friends, therefore, the consola¬
tion of regarding her as a participant of that Rest which re-
maineth for the people of God. You may not call her back
to earth ; you would not recall her to her former sufferings;
but you can live so as to fulfill her touching request—"Meet
me in Heaven !" Yes, dear one, we will strive to gain that
meetness for Heaven which will entitle us, " through the blood
of Christ," to meet thee and embrace thee, and commune with
thee once more and forever, in that " land of pure delight,"
where " everlasting Spring abides and never fading flowers."
You are deprived, for the time being, of her gentle minis¬
trations ; the echo of her winning voice is dying away from
your halls, but you have gained an angel in the abode of
LETTERS. 39
Rest; you have a golden chain which binds your heart to that
home of the soul. And now that " the Spring-time" has
come, and bright flowers are rising from earth's winter-tomb,
they seem to spring from the grave of her whose living breast
was the home of each beautiful thought and feeling, and to
bid your spirit rest upon their glorious teaching of a general
Resurrection in the last day. I shall, then, preserve this gift
as a talisman, which, when looked upon, will recall
" Bright memories of the past," though they be robed in sadness.
And as a memorial of one who, from earliest childhood, re¬
ceived with respectful and affectionate interest the admonitions
of a Pastor, shall be laid up among the treasured remem¬
brances of the heart. With sentiments of the highest respect
and unaffected sympathy, I remain
Your sincere Friend and Pastor,
THOMAS S. ARTHUR.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Greenville, Jan. 14, 1859.
Respected Madam, and Dear Afflicted Friend : I have just
received the token of your kind sentiments for me, in the memen¬
to—for as such will I keep it—of your dear, departed Anna, and
I hope you will accept my grateful thanks for the kindness
you have shown me, in making me one of those to be remem¬
bered among the last who ministered to the wants of her who
is always to be the cherished object of your most sacred and
tender recollections. And allow me to assure you that the op¬
portunity I have had to serve your dear child and your family,
is, and shall be, deemed by me as one of the many precious
privileges of my life, and I earnestly invoke the Divine bless¬
ing upon the imperfect services rendered, and that, through
his abundant mercy and grace, he may sanctify all that is past,
and your whole future experience to the spiritual and eternal
welfare.
Will you, and your sorely afflicted husband and children,
accept the continued expressions of real sympathy in your
sore trial and affliction ? And I do beg you all to accept that
purer sympathy of our blessed Saviour, who never afflicts wil-
liugly, but only for the good of his people ; and receive the
true consolation that is offered in the reflection that your dear
Anna is awaiting your approach to those Heavenly Mansions,
40
LETTERS.
whither her Saviour and your Saviour dwells in delightful ex¬
pectation of the coming of His saints.
Yours, very respectfully and sincerely,
S. S. GAILLARD.
Mrs. B. F. Perrt.
Greenville, Jan. 26th, 1859.
I accept with pleasure, my dear Mrs. Perry, the beautiful
Bible which you have sent me " in remembrance" of your
lovely daughter. I shall use it daily, and as often as I open'
its sacred pages I will think of her who, although seen no
more amongst mortals, has left behind her so fragrant a me¬
mory. The reports which I received concerning the exercises
of her mind, during her long illness, and especially towards its
close, excited my deepest interest. As I gazed upon her face,
pale and beautiful in death, that interest was deepened. And,
in penning the few lines to which you have so kindly alluded,
I only gave utterance to the gushing sympathies of my heart.
It has since been my daily prayer that you may be sustained
under the pressure of this great sorrow ; and that the peace¬
ful and blessed death of your cherished and amiable child may
be sanctified to the eternal good of her fond parents, and of
her affectionate brothers and sister.
With unfeigned sympathy, I remain, dear Mrs. Terry,
Yours respectfully,
R. FURMAN.
Greenville, Jan. 19th, 1859.
The beautiful Prayer Book, dear Mrs. Perry, which Fanny
gave me, has so affected me that I think of nothing but the
dear, sainted Anna, who now "sleeps so sweetly in Jesus."
This blessed Book, which led my cherished young friend to
the Lamb of God that taketh away the sins of the world,
shall always be used, while my poor heart shall sigh to join
her in the praises of the Church Triumphant. 0, that we
may all be " made meet for the inheritance of the saints in
light" upon which the dear child has entered. While she is
hearing the seraphim's song, we are burdened with sin and
sorrow; sometimes sighing to enter upon the " Rest prepared
for God's people."
LETTERS.
41
May God sustain you and your dear family in (His dark
hour, and in death give to you, as he did to dear Anna, the
peace which passeth all understanding.
Yours, very truly,
E. B. BACON.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Sherborn, Mass., Jan. 25, 1859.
My Bear Friend; I received a paper from you last eve¬
ning containing the very sad intelligence of your dear child's
death. Although I was prepared, by your last letter, to hear
that she was gradually failing, yet, I did not anticipate her
death so soon. I had hoped that she might linger on—per¬
haps in a comfortable state—until Spring, or even another Au¬
tumn. But she has gone!—so young, so lovely, so full of pro¬
mise—to return no more. How severe the stroke to the family,
but especially to the parents. It seems to me that there is no
earthly love so pure, so tender, as that which binds us to our
children. Their dependence upon us, their clinging to us, in
their young and tender years, as their providers and protectors,
awakens and cherishes a peculiar affection in return. They
are sources of priceless enjoyment to parents in this world of
care and vexation. No one can realize the full meaning of
these assertions until he is called to see his children in sickness
and suffering and in death.
**********
Pardon this account of my domestic afflictions. Though I
carry them about in my heart, I seldom speak of them to
others. I speak out now because I find a bleHding heart that,
perhaps, will appreciate such earthly sorrows. I think we have
found support, comfort and joy, under these trials, in the Gos¬
pel, and I hope that you and your afflicted wife will find the
same blessings in the same blessed Antidote. I am happy to
learn that your daughter, Anna, realized her approach to
death, and seemed prepared to go to the better world. The
account of her in the Patriot was very interesting to myself
and wife. We had thought and spoken very ofteta about her.
On the day we supposed that your son was to leave Cam¬
bridge for home, my wife said she wished we could think of
something to send her that would be pleasant to her in her
sickness. But I told her, however pleasant it might be, it
seemed impracticable. How thankful you must be for that
42
letters.
last act 9k the dying scene. That will always be with you as
long as you live, and it will be as a pleasant guavdian angel.
"We were very sorry that your son could not have been at
home ; but he is there now, and the last words of a sweet sis¬
ter have, doubtless, been told in his ear, and he has been to
visit that "pretty spotf where her ashes now quietly repose.
This seems a strange correspondence that has sprung up be¬
tween us. I have never seen you, nor any of your family, and
yet I find myself writing as if to old friends. But so it is—
God is in these things, I trust, for good. Give our love to
your afflicted wife, and tell her that we would gladly do any¬
thing in our power to comfort her in this hour. I am very
happy to know that you have so many dear friends who sym¬
pathize with you. May God bless you all in this day of sor¬
row.
I write in great haste, but I feel as though I must write
without delay. Yours, very truly,
E. DOWSE.
To Hon. B. F. Perry.
Log Castle, Jan. 26th, 1859.
My Dear Friend : About the 5 th of this month I was at¬
tacked with a violent cold, with a constant pain in the head—
or brain fever—and for two weeks confined to my castle, when
I left for Perryville ; and after spending a week in that dry,
pure atmospherejimproved so much as to be enabled to return
back to my bajlllfess here, where I found the " Patriot," of
the 18th, conraping the announcement of the death of your
beloved daughlUC Prepared, as I am sure you were, for this
sad and unavoidable event, your own strength of mind, chast¬
ened by reflection and that submission which we owe to the
commands of the Great Being above, still, it was a trial—and
a hard one, too—to test your firmness and fortitude, your pa¬
tience and constajMg. your love and obedience to the will of
God. But I knoaEafflte dear friend too well to doubt for a mo¬
ment that he hasf^p this occasion, borne himself up like a
Christian ancl a hero, before high Heaven, and like confiding
Job, said in his heart: "The Lord giveth and the Lord hath
taken away; blessed be his name." Is it not a wise conclu¬
sion ? Is it not the very essence of religion, as well as our duty,
to take whatever comes of God as being ordered "for the best
for our good and eternal gain ? In fact, misfortunes, however
LETTERS.
43
unwelcome, often eventually prove to have been "blessings in
disguise." We should never bend under the weight or fly
from them, but meet them with manly resolution ; and, con¬
fiding in the support of the Great Eternal, never despair or
give up ; be faithful and wrestle to the end. You, my dear
fiiend, have studied these suggestions, and know and practice
them better than I do.
In July, 1825, more than thirty-three years ago, I first saw you
in Greenville. I was then a young man, and it was my first visit
to your beautiful village, where I spent three months most
pleasantly with your hospitable people. When I call to me¬
mory the men of that day and place, who were sojourning
there, my heart saddens at the reflection: Judge Gantt, Chan¬
cellor Thompson, Warren Davis, Earle, Croft, Cleveland, Wad-
dell, Toney, Walker and others. The Calhouns, Simpsons,
McDuffie, Singleton, Bradly, Reese, Waties, Saxton and ma¬
ny more; all of them buoyant with life's long day, as though to
them it would last forever. Where now are they? Gone,
gone forever, from this world of change and sorrow, to that
home where sickness and death can never come. Thirty-three
years to come, (it seems a far way off, but the time will be no
longer than the thirty-three last past and gone,) in all proba¬
bility, most of the present population of your charming vil¬
lage will have taken their departure for the spirit land, and
you and I too, my friend, will have joined them in that sleep
that " knows no waking." Yes, the scenes and trials, the
crosses and losses, the vexations and sorrows, which harrass
and pursue us in life, will be felt and knowM.no more. Why,
then, should we complain or care for deatS alarms ? " 'Tis
but the voice that Jesus sends to take us to ms arms."
I sometimes imagine I have more than my full share of
trouble and woe. I surely have had days and nights of sick¬
ness and sorrow, and at times have thought I would rather lie
down and die, than bear longer the ills of life. But in this I
was wrong. God's will should, and must be, our will. To
stand by the bed-side of a beloved companion and witness the
death struggle, and the last pulsation of life, and not to feel
overwhelmed with agonizing grief, is a trial hard to bear. Yet,
we know that all who are thus blessed with such a friend,
know not the day nor the hour when the fatal shaft shall
fall and bring to the tomb the solace of their cares and the
idols of their hearts. Such has been my fate, and twenty-
three years has not effaced from my recollection the remem-
44
LETTERS.
brance of a scene I can never forget. Since then I have fol¬
lowed to the grave a father and mother; and of nine brothers
and sisters, all have gone and left me here to battle on through
the world without any relative nearer than a few nephews and
nieces. Isolated as I am, I am sometimes tempted to envy
those who are surrounded with a happy, growing family ; but
when I see the inroads and havoc so often made in the quiet
mansion of domestic bliss, by " the dread King of all the
earth," I then incline to think perhaps it's well I am as I am ;
for my nature is poorly qualified to withstand the shocks and
blows of that insatiable destroyer; and hence, have learned to be
self-reliant in difficulties and misfortunes, looking to no one but
the Great Being above for aid and comfort in the hour of need.
I rejoice and congratulate you, my dear friend, that you are
so much better situated. Blessed as you are with the truest
of friends, a devoted and lovely wife, (whom I pray God to
preserve and protect for many»years to come,) and a growing
and interesting family of sons and a daughter, surely you
have great cause for thankfulness in the midst of your recent
misfortune, and cannot fail to find much comfort and conso¬
lation in their presence, devotion and love. And let me beg
you to accept for yourself and Mrs. Perry, and all the mem¬
bers of your family, my most sincere and heartfelt sympathy
for the loss you have all sustained in the death of your dear
Anna—the joy and pride of father and mother, the idol of
brothers and sister, and a favorite with all who knew her vir¬
tues and worth. God bless her memory and take her to him¬
self, for she was better fitted for Heaven than this lower
world. I rejoice to perceive that her last moments were so
sensible, in all her sufferings—so bright, joyous and happy !
What consolation and comfcyt to sorrowing parents and
friends, to witness the ready and willing departure of an im¬
mortal soul to the realms of eternal glory! Happy spirit!
Now thou art forever at rest; no more sickness ; no pain and
sorrow there. God, thy maker and thy friend, called thee
hence to save and bless thee. Then, dry the tears, weeping
parents and sorrowing brothers, sister, relatives and friends, for
Anna has gone to her final happy home, where you must pre¬
pare to go and meet her. Here we cannot stay. Our
time is short, but eternity has no end. To that sweet resting-
place the great and good, the virtuous and pure, will assemble,
at God's right hand, to " receive the blessing prepared for them
since the foundation of the world."
LETTERS.
45
Really, my friend, you and your beloved companion should
wipe the tears from your eyes and no longer indulge in grief
that can do no good, and may seriously affect your health and
happiness. Yoh are both still fortunate in having an interest¬
ing number of children to honor and sustain you in the many vi¬
cissitudes of life which you may be called upon to meet. God
grant they may long live to be an honor, a comfort and conso¬
lation to your advancing years, and never do aught to wound
the feelings of their devoted parents.
I read with the deepest emotions the Obituary Notices in
the Patriot. It was the first intimation I had of the sad
event! I received the number sent me in an envelope, which
was some days in the office before it came to hand. It was
marked, and I thank the kind friend for honoring me with
such consideration. When I got to the parting scene—the
last farewell—between father, mother and daughter—" Papa,
I am going to die," &c., &c.—my feelings overcame me; I
could read no more till I moistened the paper with the tears
of sympathy, love and honor for my worthy and much es¬
teemed friends ; for the anguish and suffering they were called
upon to endure. After a little I made the effort again, and
again the heart would bleed and tears would flow, and not
until affection's offering and nature's law was fully obeyed,
could I proceed. But I have now read again and again all
that was published in that paper about your lovely daughter;
and all is so beautifully, truthfully and eloquently expressed,
that none who knew her will, or can, refuse to weep and mourn
and sympathize with her bereaved family and friends. Yes,
my friend, I weep and mourn with you, and claim the privi¬
lege from years of unchanged friendship and admiration. We
are told "there is a time to dance and a time to sing; a time
to weep and a time to mourn." I know you and your family
have mourned and wept, and obeyed the heart's impulse and
nature's law. There is a time for all things. Let me, then,
suggest, now turn your thoughts and attention to the con¬
cerns and cares of life. Bind on your armor and be ready to
do battle in the great journey you are called upon to make in
this uncertain and wicked and unfriendly world. " While it
is day we should work, for the night cometh when none
can work." " Neither can any man tell what to-morrow may
bring forth."
But I fear I have already trespassed too long upon your
valuable time, without giving much comfort and condolence
46
letters.
to your wounded and oppressed spirit. Yet, I could not keep
silent when my dear friend was afflicted. My heart would
speak its feeling, its sympathy and love, in full confidence and
hope that the occasion and motive would excuse, if not justify,
the freedom of my rough pen—sincere and hearty expressions.
Although I have not seen any of your numerous friends in
Columbia, (for I have not been there,) since the sad intelli¬
gence arrived, yet I know full well each and all of them feel a
deep sympathy for you and your family.
I now invoke the guidance, protection and care of an all-
wise and merciful Providence in behalf of my dear friend and
his excellent companion, and their beloved children, whom I
pray may be their constant friend and help, now and ever, in
time of need. With sincere regard and a "God bless you"
for you and all that is yours, I remain, as ever, with sincere
regard,
Your friend,
JAMES O'HANLON.
P. S. I would be more than glad to hear from you soon.
Be pleased to present my kindest respects to Mrs. Perry and
all the children. I hope the health of all is good. My own
is delicate. J. O'H.
Col. B, F. Perry, Greenville, S. C.
St. Helena Island, 1
Beaufort P. 0., S. C., Feb. 6th, 1859. f
Dear Perry: On my way from Newberry to this place, I
saw the death of your dear, sweet Anna announced in the pa¬
pers ; and although I had been prepared to expect it, still, it
was to me a shock—the eldest daughter of a dear friend ; the
tried and loved companion of my Matilda; the pride and or¬
nament of our village, and one who I had ever loved and ca¬
ressed as a relative; so young, so beautiful, and with so many
friends, to be taken from us, and forever, looks hard, and is,
in truth, trying to us all; but especially to you, and to her
mother and family. I do not write you, my dear friend, to
comfort you; I am unable to do that. Your own brave heart,
with an implicit belief that God does everything for the best,
and with a long lapse of time thrown over it, is the only so¬
lace that can be offered you. I, too, have drank deep at sor-
LETTERS.
47
row's fountain. Experience to me has been a cruel teacher.
You know I have buried four children.
Your loss, my dear friend, has been sweet Anna's gain. She
is r.ow, no doubt, numbered with the sainted angels around
God's throne, and at this moment, no doubt, is guarding and
protecting her father, and is pleading for you at Heaven's
mercy seat. Too good for earth, she has been translated to
Heaven. She can never return to us. Allow me, then, in
friendship and candor, to beg of you to be prepared to go to
her and to your God. Oh J what rejoicing there will be then !
I am not good enough to speak to you as a Christian. I only
speak to you as a friend, and almost as one risen from the
dead; for I had a hard aud long sickness of it, and am only
now partially well; and God only knows whether I ever will
again enjoy good health. I have written but little since I saw
you last—the 1st of October. You must excuse this and take the
will for the deed; and with kind regards to Mrs. Perry, and
the rest of the family, believe me, you have the entire sympa¬
thy of my household under your heavy bereavement; and
that I remain, very truly,
Your friend,
RANDELL CROFT.
To Col. B. F. Perry.
Bennettsville, S. C., Feb. 29, 1859.
Dear Madam: You have not miscalculated upon the sym¬
pathy which we feel for your great affliction, when you remem¬
bered us in the distribution of the affecting Obituary Notices
of your daughter's death. I had seen her, some years since,
.during the Session in Columbia, and was struck, not only with
her personal appearance as a lovely child, but with the intelli¬
gence which marked all she said or did. Even without these
rare gifts, the instincts of our nature were enough to claim all
the affections of a mother's heart, and link her happiness with
every varying condition of a daughter's life. You have suf¬
fered in your loss as much as human nature can bear, and one
who, like myself, can look toward my own fireside and see at
a glance eight avenues through which a similar dispensation
of Providence could bring such distressing afflictions to my
own heart, it seems to me that I can realize all you feel, and
mourn with you as a brother over a common calamity.
48
LETTERS.
These obituary notices have not escaped unobserved by my¬
self or my family. I should have written to Col. Perry, as
soon as the notice of your daughter's death appeared, but
mercy for his feelings forbade it; the hope that the wound in
his heart was healing'—that he had a melancholy calm per¬
vading a soul wholly alive to his family and friends, and which
had iu some degree subdued the strong emotions that so af¬
flicting an event must have caused him to feel, whilst it was
recent—suggested to me that it were better to be silent, and
let time, in its gradual operations upon the human heart, ef¬
fect in its own way that which I had the will, but not the
power, to do. Having read the notice in the Greenville pa¬
per, (which I take,) I laid it aside; and, some time after, ta¬
king it up again, I found that some one of my family had
cut the notice out. I was pleased with this silent testimony
of the interest felt in your loss, and inquired among my chil¬
dren which of them did it, and found that one of my daugh¬
ters, (Sarah,) who visited you last summer, had taken the notice
out and placed it away amongst those things which she was
gathering as a little store-house of affecting mementoes for a
future day. She had not seen Miss Anna—knew nothing of
her, save that she had heard she was a lovely, interesting
daughter, and had suffered great afflictions. You will see'
from this, madam, that we have not been unconcerned whilst
your family has been stricken down with sorrow; but have
felt, somehow, that the event which has deprived you of a
child, has furnished cause for us to mourn also—not as her
parents, but as those who would gladly share their burdens
if they could.
Yet, when your hearts will allow the suggestions of reason
to be considered, you will remember that a life in this world
is no guaranty of a daughter's happiness—every step is beset,
with care and anxieties—and at the best, had she lived to
the greatest old age, under the most favorable circumstances,
it would only have been to learn how to die. What might
have befallen her, no one can tell. Parents who have tra¬
velled the same road, know that they have everything to ap¬
prehend. As it is, you must know that her pure spirit lives
elsewhere, where parents and children need not fear the future
any more.
I have written, perhaps, much more than the occasion de¬
manded, but not more than I felt, though very much less than
the subject would admit. I will add nothing more, but that
LETTERS.
49
I thank you sincerely for the pamphlet sent us, and that it shall
be preserved no less as a sad memento of your daughter's
death, but from the respect I have always for my friend, Col.
Perry, and his family. Very respectfully,
Your ob't servant,
C. W. DUDLEY.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Greenville, Jan. 13, 1859.
Respected Madam: It devolves on me to announce to you
the sad intelligence of the death of Miss Anna Perry. She
died last night.
And allow me to offer the unspeakable consolation of her
expressions of willingness to die. Nor was indifference to her
real condition the ground of her willingness to depart. No,
she had a most humbling view of her ill desert as a sinner;
so that, in herself, there was nought but ground for condem¬
nation; but her whole trust was in the merits of a crucified
Saviour. So that while her many and warm friends, and her
very affectionate relatives, have realized a great loss in her
death, yet, she has realized an unspeakably greater gain in the
change she has experienced. It was my privilege to be with
her the last day of her life, and her views were exceedingly
satisfactory and consoling to me, and such as I offer to her
greatly afflicted parents and friends. She desired that her sis¬
ter should not be reared for this world, and she desired that
she should not forget her ; for that leaving them was one re¬
gret she had in dying, and that she would be willing to die,
if her death might be the instrument of the salvation of her
dear family.
Her dear parents are greatly afflicted, and I hope that you
may be able to minister consolation to them, as I know it
would be your pleasure.
Yours, very sincerely,
S. S. GAILLARD.
Mrs. Eliza P. Hayne, Charleston, S. C.
-- •*
Charleston, S. C., March 1st, 1859.
My Dear Niece: Your aunt and myself have sympathized
with you and your excellent husband in your late afflictive be¬
reavement. But you must remember, God never afflicts with-
50
letters.
out causes, and in wisdom, and for our benefit. The departed
one is in the bosom of her Saviour. This is enough ; and the
time will come when you would not bring her back if you
could. Indeed, for myself and those dearest to me, my con¬
stant prayer is, that when God is about to take any of us
away, that through His grace his " spirit may bear witness
with our spirit," that we are His children in Christ Jesus. Hap¬
piness, in this world, is a relative term; for God never de¬
signed us to be happy here; but still, those are most happy
who " love God and man," as set forth in that broad command¬
ment which is made to include the whole of the " Law and
the Prophets." The whole of life is to be found in a single
word—duty—and he who best and most faithfully performs
his duty, is comparatively most happy.
When in Columbia, It was my intention to devote my last
evening to you and the departed one, and I went to your
room to do so, but I was told you had retired for the night.
We are all well, and with sincere love from and to all,
As ever, your friend and Uncle,
A. P. HAYNE.
To Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Charleston, Jan. 15th, 1859.
Dear, dear Lizzie: Mr. Gaillard's letter was received this
morning, informing us that our beloved Anna is no more an
inhabitant of this world ! What shall I say, dear child, but that
we all feel with and for you, and pray that He who alone can
do it, will comfort and bless you all. I truly thank the Father
of mercies and God of all comforts for the rich consolation
which he has been pleased to afford you under this heart-rend¬
ing sorrow. The good man's letter is very precious to me,
and I am thankful he was with our dear one the last day of
her life, and that through the goodness of God he was able to
testify that he thought she was " prepared for death"—not on
the ground of her own merits, but in humble trust in her Re¬
deemer—and also, that she was willing to die, and anxious for
the spiritual welfare of her beloved family.
Were I to write you a volume, 4Hiy dear Lizzie, your heart
would reply : "All this will not give me back my child—my
precious child!" No! you must go to her, for she cannot
return to you! Weep, my dear friend, weep freely. Chris¬
tianity. even enjoins sorrow for the dead. They were •" devout
LETTERS.
51
men" who carried the first Martyr, Stephen, to his grave, and
made " great lamentations over him." David mourned for his.
son, Ammon, " every day ;" and no parent can forget his ex¬
ceeding great and bitter cry over Absalom, his son, Absalom.
Nay, we cannot be enjoined to " weep with those that weep,"
if we ourselves were denied the relief of our tears under our
bereavements. Still, you must thank God for his great good¬
ness in preparing your child for her great change, and also in
enabling her so to express herself, and to give you the comfort
of knowing that this was so.
The sweet poet, Cowper, in one of his letters, written after
the death of his only brother, who was converted during the
last few weeks of a suffering life, expresses his gratitude to
God that he was able to speak freely on the subject of reli¬
gion ; but adds, that had it been otherwise, he should still
have hoped that it was well with him, as he knew that he
" prayed." " He believed," he said, " that many persons ex¬
perienced a change of heart upon a death-bed, who, from ma¬
ny causes, were not able to leave to their friends the comfort
of knowing that this was sol"
So, in relation to our dear Anna, I should have hoped, even
though it had not been the will of God that she should have
given the full testimony she has done, of her trust in Him
who never cuts off those who come to him for help. But I
bless God that He not only fitted her for Heaven, but led her to
express solicitude for the best interests of her beloved fdmily.
" Our smitten friends are angels
Sent on errands full of love."
And now, my dear child, let us turn to the thought of the
blessedness of the dear, departed one :
" High in youder realms of light,
Dwell the raptured saints above,
Far above our feeble sight—
Happy in Immanuel's love.
" Pilgrims in this vale of tears,
Once they knew, like us below,
Gloomy doubts, distressing fears,
Torturing pain and heavy woe.
" But, these days of weeping o'er,
Past this scene of toil and pain,
They shall know distress no more—
Never, never weep again.
52
letters.
" Happy spirits, ye are fled,
Where no grief can entrance find,
Lulled to rest the aching head,
Soothed the anguish of the mind.
" Every tear is wiped away !
Sighs no more shall heave the breast!
Night is lost in endless day,
Sorrow in eternal rest.""
I have sent Mr. G.'s letter to Aunt Mary, and to Anna and
Martha, and will communicate the contents to other friends,
none of whom will sympathize with you more than ourselves—■
including Eloise and Sarah. Willie brought Mr. G.'s letter in
■at breakfast time—even the servants were much affected.
Our united love and sympathy to Maj. Perry. My poor
prayers were offered for you all a few minutes before I re¬
ceived the letter. If I am able I will acknowledge it. I saw
Mr. G. in Greenville, and went to his house with your mo¬
ther, and I left a book (a little one,) with Mrs. Atwood for his
little son, who was called after Dr. Palmer. I wrote yester¬
day to your mother. Kiss Fannie for me. May God bless
and comfort you, dear Lizzie.
Your affectionate Aunt,
ELIZA P. HAYNE.
To Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Charleston, Jan 21st, 1859.
We all long to hear of you, dear Lizzie, and I think your
mother will soon write, or Susan. If you would do so, my
dear child, it might give you some relief to pour out your feel¬
ings where you knoiv you would find sympathy. All friends
here desire me to express their feelings towards you—Anna
and Martha and all your aunts. Aunt Mary has asked for a
copy of Mr. Gaillard's letter, which request I have complied
with, and have put away the original with my most precious
memorials of the loved departed one.
My thoughts are perpetually with you. Even here there is
much to recall the memory of dear Anna. With what feel¬
ings we all look at the slippers—the last work of her hands!
Perhaps, dear Lizzie, you would like to keep them.
I trust and pray that God would guide and comfort you all.
I am sure you realize that God has been very merciful in his
appointments, even in the midst of your sorrow. What a bless-
LETTERS.
53
ing that He gave her trust in her crucified Saviour, and enalpled
her to express herself so piously and tenderly in view of death.
Few young- persons whose lives have been so pure would have
felt so humbling a sense of sin. God gave her this, and that
led tier to the Saviour of sinners.
Is Willie with you ? Poor fellow ! And Frank, too. They
I will deeply feel the loss of their dear sister. You have afX.
-^choice for domestic life, and sought your happiness at home,
and now Fannie must be your comfort and treasure.
Aunt Mary sends you a message of^spiritual love and sym- '
pathv—Uncle A. the same. They both thought Mr. G.'s let¬
ter was very comforting and affecting. Never doubt that ma¬
ny prayers are offered for you all, as they were for dear Anna,
for whom, I know, many prayed earnestly and constantly.
May God bless her removal to each and all of us, and teach
us the great value of those truths which sustained her, and
lighted up the " dark valley" through which we must all pass.
Express to Maj. Perry my heartfelt sympathy and regard.
Your ever affectionate Aunt,
ELIZA P. HAYNE.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Philadelphia, April 10, 1859.
My Dear Madam: I have learned from our excellent friend,
Miss Graham, that you were desirous to know what was ray
opinion respecting your lovely and most cherished child, whose
loss has been an affliction deeply felt and lamented by you.
It may probably be a source of consolation and tend to re¬
concile you to this dispensation, that it was in reality a bless¬
ing thus early-,to be called from a mortal existence, necessarily
surrounded with evil and suffering, to a glorious and assured
immortality in the bosom of her Redeemer.
Miss Graham, from feelings of kindness and sympathy, as
well as in accordance with my own advice to her, withheld
from you the true state of your daughter's case. On my first
visit I came to the conclusion that a recovery was hardly to
be hoped for. * * * * * * I made
an effort to rally-her forces and to arrest the progress of the
tubercular degeneration of lung. This may be sometimes ac¬
complished with a constitution originally good, enfeebled by
some accidental cause. But the attempt was only partially
successful. The hectic fever was arrested, but the state of the
54
letters.
lungs was unchanged. The duration of cases of this charac¬
ter is variable and uncertain ; and it was thought that a too h
early revelation to you would only cause you much suffering J
and anxiety of mind without the least benefit. I assure you, |j
my dear madam, her fate is to be envied ; not to be lamented. ■
I deeply regret it had not been my lot. Then much of suf¬
fering, mental and bodily, I should have escaped ; and what is
of far more import, how much less to account for.
From my own experience of life I am led to the same con- j
elusion as was the old Greek poet, Theognis:
" Not to be born, never to see the sun,
Of earthly blessings is the greatest one ;
And the next best is speedily to die—
Buried beneath a heap of earth to lie."
The translation (not my own,) is a miserable exposition of the
original. The general truth of this sentiment is seen in Ecclesi-
astes, or the Preacher, in which it is very forcibly expressed.
This identity of thought is remarkable. Both writers had
great and deep experience of life; and as no connexion or
communication between them was possible, it appears as a sad
conclusion from their independent experience. Thus speaketh
the Preacher—" I praised the dead which are already dead,
more than the living which are yet alive. Yea, better than
both, they which have not yet been, who hath not seen the
evil work that is done under the sun."
Nature, it is true, extorts from us the tribute of tears and
grief in these afflictive dispensations of our life, but reason
and religion, pointing to the glories of a blessed immortality,
tells us not to mourn, but to rejoice.
Accept the assurances of my respect, and believe me
Yours, truly,
SAMUEL JACKSON,
224 S. 8th St., Philadelphia.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Charleston, Jan. 24th, 1859.
I received last night, my dear Lizzie, a short letter from Sa¬
rah, accompanying the packet you sent her, (the out-pourings
of a bereaved mother's heart,) which we all here have read
with the deepest interest. I have just sent it to your Aunt
LETTERS.
55
Mary for perusal, and will then put it into the hands of other
friends who sympathize with you, beginning with your Aunts
in Logan-st. Emily particularly begged that we would allow her
to see any memorial of dear Anna we might receive. She felt
a great interest in her at all times. Your communication is a
beautiful one, full of interest to us all, and containing not one
word I would wish to erase. Your mother has a beautiful
volume, (Sympathy,) which I would recommend to you at this
time, and to your dear husband also, for it is beautifully writ¬
ten and very soothing. It has comforted many beyond any
work I am acquainted with.
You must have remembered Montgomery's beautiful hymn
in the collection attached to the Prayer Book :
" Prayer is the soul's sincere desire,
Uttered or unexpressed.
Prayer is the burden of a sigh,
The falling of a tear,
The upward lifting of the eye,
When none but God is near."
The Psalmist says: " The Lord also hath heard the voice of
my weeping," and " Lord, all my desire is before Thee, and my
groaning is not hid from Thee" Hagar uttered no prayer
th«jt*we know of, but
" Cast dowu her fainting chil d,
Then stole apart to weep aud die,
Nor knew an angel form was nigh,
To shew soft waters gushing by,
And dewy shadows mild."
How hard is it, my dear child, to realize the simple truth that
God is ever with us, and that all the desires of our hearts are
known to Him.
You were very right in thinking that Sarah felt a special in¬
terest in your dear child. In her last she says to me that
" she had never had her heart so drawn out to any young per¬
son, and that she had never been out of her thoughts since
she saw her in Greenville." I know that she and many others
prayed fervently that her life might be spared, if it was the
will of God, and that she might be prepared for death if she
was to be called away—and your own prayers were to the same
effect. And a prayer-hearing God has answered your suppli¬
cations in a way that seemed to him best. Oh, that He may
still have respect for the many prayers that are being made
56
LETTERS.
for you and yours ! That your dear husband may find conso¬
lation in the blessed truths of the Gospel, and that your sons
may devote the morning of their respective lives to Him. I do
feel for Willie on his return to his desolated home. My daugh¬
ter, you must let him see that religion has power to console
you under your great sorrow, and that the hope of a blessed
re-union sustains you under your heavy loss. I have felt all
the yearning you describe, and feel them still. In my dreams
one and another comes to me, and in my waking moments I
long, I yearn for one moment's sight of the dear, departed
ones; and, like you, I feel that I was deficient towards them,
and long
" For one moment of the past,
To kneel and say, Forgive !"
and somehow I feel as if these sad thoughts of repentant love
are known to them as well as to God.
" I do not feel, where'er thou art,
Thou hast forgotten me."
But it is our part, my dear child, to look to God for com¬
fort, and to address ourselves to our journey of life, sorrowful
as wc must be, yet rejoicing in the mercy God has extended
to us and ours. "Where we have failed, (and all have come
fearfully short,) let us endeavor, by God's help, to be more flr-
cumspect and faithful in duty. Come to the Bible, my daugh¬
ter, as a little child for its daily lesson. Many things are hard
to be understood, not only in the Word of God, but in His
Providence. But let us "trust in Him at all times." The
truths needful for us are clearly revealed, and we are told that
we shall one day know, even as we are known. Your finding
comfort now from books which were given so many years ago
by your child to her afflicted aunt, is very affecting. I, too,
will read with renewed and sacred interest the little book she
bought herself, the first time she was with us, and gave to
Willie—"The Successful Merchant." I thought it was a tale,
but found it to be a beautiful biography of S. Budget, which
been since reviewed by Peter Bayne, in his " Religious Life,
Social and Individual." He there ranks Samuel Budget above
Wilberforce and other Christian Philanthropists. »
I have filled my sheet and said not half I intended. My
love to each and all in your own home, and to my sister,
Susan, and Ann. Have you the Pilgrim's Progress! I do
not mean the Cottage Lectures, although they, too, are beau-
letters.
61
liful, and T think ray sister Anna sent a copy to your mother.
Next the Bible, I rank the Book of Common Prayer, and yet,
like you, I love the good of every denomination.
May God be with you all, to bless and comfort and guide
your feet into the way of everlasting peace.
Your affectionate Aunt,
ELIZA P. HAYNE.
To Mis. B. F. Perry.
Columbia, Jan. 18th, 1859.
I would have written to you immediately, my dear Lizzie,
to express the deep sympathy I felt for you in the loss of
your precious darling, had I been able; but I have been quite
sick for several days, suffering a great deal. Do thank Mr.
Gaillard for his kind letter, which was very cheering. I thank
you, my dear cousin, for getting him to write. I did, indeed,
feel an interest of the deepest kind in your dear child, and she
has seldom been out of my thoughts since I saw her in Green¬
ville, last September. I had always thought her an uncom¬
monly interesting child, and to see her thus blighted in her
youth and beauty, was sad indeed. The blow to you must be
a dreadful one ! How sadly you must miss her! The very
fact of her having been an object of anxiety and tender care
for months past, will make you miss her even more than if she
had not needed that care. Yet, how sweet to feel that she is
gone where she will never more know sin, sorrow or suffering.
Safe in the arms of a loving Saviour. Think if she had been
cut off suddenly or unprepared ! How different your feelings
would have been. Oh,.may her prayers for her family be an¬
swered ; may this heavy affliction be sanctified to them ! My
"Invalid Hymn Book" will ever be associated with her.
When you feel able to write, it will give me much pleasure to
hear from you. Give mv love to your mother and sisters, and
remember me kindly to Maj. Perry. I enclose you some lines
which I am sure will interest you. No doubt you have read
them ; but you will read them now with very different feelings.
May God support and comfort you, my dear cousin.
Yours, in love and sympathy,
S. H. TAYLOR.
To Mrs. B. F, Perry.
58
LETTERS.
There is no flock, however watched and tended,
But one dead lamb is there ;
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,
But has one vacant chair.
The air is full of farewells to the dying,
And mournings for the dead;
The heart of Rachel, for her children crying,
Will not be comforted.
We see but dimly through the mist and vapors —
Amid these earthly damps,
What seem to us but dim fuDereal tapers,
May be Heaven's distant lamps.
There is no death; what seems so is transition ;
This life of mortal breath
Is but a suburb of the life elysian,
Whose portals we call Death.
In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion,
By guardian angels led,
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution,
She lives whom we call dead.
Day after day we think what she is doing
In those bright realms of air;
Tear after year, her tender steps pursuing,
Behold her grown more fair.
Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken
The bond which nature gives,
Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken,
May reach her where she lives.
Hot as a child shall we again behold her ;
For when, with raptures wild,
In our embraces we again enfold her,
She will not be a child •,
But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion,
Clothed with celestial grace,
And beautiful with all the soul's expansion,
Shall we behold her face.
And though at times, impetuous with emotion
And anguish long suppressed,
The swelling heart heaves, moaning like the ocean
That cannot be at rest—
We will be patient, and assuage the feeling
We cannot wholly stay,
By silence sanctifying, not concealing,
The grief that must have way.
59
Columbia, Jan. 26th, 1859.
Dear Lizzie: Your long and very affecting letter was deep¬
ly interesting to us all. I read it aloud to my husband and i
my boys, and I am sure if dear Anna could have looked down j!
upon us she would have realized that she could not be soon j|
forgotten. I had longed to hear all the particulars of the ;
closing scene, but feared you would not feel able to write. ,i
What an unspeakable consolation and only real comfort is yours,
in the assured hope you have that " your loss is her gainthat
vour precious child is now an angel in Heaven, and will, no
doubt, be the first to welcome you to that blessed abode.
"Never that heavenly land may know i
One sigh of sorrow, one sound of woe ; j
Guilt may not gaze on its glories fair,
Sickness and death may not enter there ; j
The soul is at peace 'mid those regions blest— j
For the smile of the Lord is the spirit's rest." j j
I have read the little work you allude to—" Flavel's Gift to !
Mourners.1' It was given to me just after the death of my j
little Sallie. I found it very consoling. ;
I am truly thankful, my dear cousin, that you were given
grace, at the last, to act your part faithfully as a Christian mo- j
ther; and if her death should be the means of spiritual life |
to your husband or children, you will have reason to bless God \
for having taken her. j
I have sent your letter to Charleston with the request that
they will return it, after reading it, for I value it very much,
and would wish at some time to give it to Fannie. I hope
your mother has recovered. Do give much love to herself
and your sisters. I shall never forget your mother's kindness j
to Louise and myself, when we were children. May I not beg j
that you will remember me and mine at the throne of grace ? j
With kind remembrances to your husband and children, be- j
lieve me, dear Lizzie, most sincerely and affectionately,
Your friend and cousin,
S. H. TAYLOR.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Charleston, Jan. 16th, 1859—Sunday Night.
My dear Cousin: I only heard today, through Mamma,
of Anna's release and of your heavy bereavement. My heart
feels drawn towards you in this hour of sore trial, and I can't
60
L ^ T T E R S .
deny myself the consolation of sympathizing with you in tliis
heavy affliction. 1 hope, my dear cousin, you are enabled to
say, " The Lord has given and the Lord has taken awav ; bless¬
ed be the name of the Lord"—such I could but feel to-day,
when I heard read Mr. Gaillard's letter, giving an account of
Anna's last moments. You cannot but feel thankful that she
was so peaceful, and enabled to cast herself on her Redeemer,
looking unto him for her salvation. So young, and so much
to cling to, so many to love and cherish, and yet resigned to
death ! Blessed be the victory through our Lord Jesus. I
know, my dear cousin, from sad experience, what it is to part
with a dear child, and yet I have, too, felt the blessedness of
having an angel child. God intended us to feel our losses,
and to wean us from this world, where we walk by sight and
not by faith ; and it is only at such times we are made to re¬
alize the vanity of all earthly hopes. He has taken your
child, but He has taken her to glory; He calls those she loved
and left behind, by the strong cords of love, unto him. Oh!
that they may feel the mercy in the blow, and humbly submit
to the chastisement.
Anna was a lovely, affectionate girl, and we all had a great
affection for her, and my heart bled for her when I saw her sit¬
uation in Columbia ; and though I felt so anxious for her spi¬
ritual welfare, realizing she could not be long for this world,
yet, I am ashamed to say, I could not speak on this all-impor¬
tant subject. I prayed for her, as did very many, and God, in
His infinite mercy, has blessed her, and enabled her to leave
her sign of His pardoning grace. Your grief may now be so
bitter that you can only feel the trials of your situation, but I
trust the many mercies mingled in this cup of bitterness will
yet appear to you. God be with you and her poor father.
May He draw very nigh unto you and lift up the light of His
countenance upon you. You have many interesting children
left. Train them to meet your child in the heavenly mansions
above, where she now is beyond all pain and sorrow.
I trust you will not feel my letter intrusive. We have
known and loved each other ever since we were children, and
I never can but feel much attached to your dear mother and
yourselves, and, in your sorrows, though I cannot mingle my
tears with yours, I may be permitted to express my affectionate
sympathy.
My love to Aunt Susan, Ann and Cousin Susan. I feel for
you all, for dear Anna was one to be loved dearly and sorely
letters.
61
missed. But "jour loss is her gain." Mr. Martin has gone
to Church, or he would beg to join with me in much sympa¬
thy with Maj. Perry and yourself. Don't answer this unless
you feel so inclined. Cast your burden and all your sorrows
on your Saviour, and He will sustain you. May the everlast¬
ing arms be around and about you, is the prayer of
Your affectionate cousin,
ELOISE II. MARTIN".
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Charleston, Jan. 25th, 1859.
I need not tell you, my dear Lizzie, that the melancholy
tidings of your beloved Anna's death, communicated to us on
the 16th, were very sad and distressing. You know full well
the peculiar attachment we have always felt for you all, to
make such a declaration necessary. Yet, my feelings constrain
me to try to console you. Dear Lizzie, I feel that human
friendships are all insufficient to soothe grief like yours. I
can only bid you raise your eye and your heart to Him who
has inflicted the wound. Remember that not a sparrow fall-
eth to the ground without His notice ; much more, then, must
we feel that man's appointed lot is in His hand. The consola¬
tions of the religion of Christ, my dear Lizzie, invariably sup¬
port the mind, if we have faith to apply them to ourselves;
and these only can support it when called to endure trials like
yotirs. Your affliction is indeed great, and your loss no com¬
mon one. In this light you are allowed to view it. Resigna¬
tion does not imply insensibility. But, still, a sense of the
greatness of our loss should never be suffered to produce feel¬
ings of dissatisfaction with the dispensations of Providence.
God has a right to visit us with greater, as well as with less,
judgments, and it is our duty to be proportionally humbled
and improved. If they promote these ends, they are only
mercies in a more unpleasant form, for it has been well re¬
marked, " Whatever draws us nearer to God cannot be real
adversity, and whatever entices us from Him deserves not the
name of prosperity." How happy is it for us that our lot is
not at our own disposal. Were it so, I am sure we would be
wretched ; for the deficiency of our judgments, in connection
with our love of present ease, would lead us to reject those
afflictions which, like some unpleasant medicine, are bitter to
the taste, but necessary to existence and health. Let us, there-
02
, fore, rejoice that Jehovah reign?, and that we are entirely at
j His disposal. How consolatory the thought; for the Judge
|j of all the earth will do right. Oh, yes. Let us bow with
submission to His will, and ascribe righteousness to our Maker,
jj But remember, God's ways are perfect—are merciful. He afflicts
I, not for His own pleasure, but for our profit; and if, by this
jj mournful dispensation, you are brought to realize that we are
j probationers for a future state, that this is but a short journey
j (we know not how short,) to an interminable existence; if you
j are led to prepare for death ; if you are made more meet for
j His presence ; will you not have reason to rejoice? The de-
j sire I have that this end may be answered is unutterable.
And now, my dear niece, let me beg you to cast your burden
on the Lord. Remember your remaining mercies. How ma¬
ny, my dear Lizzie, are left in circumstances of want and
wretchedness, as well as of sorrow! But God has mercifully
supplied all your temporal necessities. I hope this will find
you resigned; free from grief it will not find you; it should
|j not; you may mourn your loss. This is natural. Jesus wept
j at the grave of his friend, even though he was coming back to
| life. Your dear one will long live in your memory ; you will
j often recall her form,' her looks, her sweet smiles and embraces,
I her inquiries and her sayings. These reminiscences will keep
j in continuous flow the waters of maternal grief. Now, my be-
| loved niece, no more think of the departed one as dead, but
I as a lamb in the bosom of Him who has taken her to Himself.
1 It is there we must find her if we would hope to see her again,
j Turn from the grave to Heaven, her present home. Think of
I her present elevation and her blessedness—the sorrows and the
I conflicts she has escaped. Think of the honor which God has
j conferred on you. You are now the mother of a glorified
spirit. We have the promise of meeting our departed ones
! where sorrow and separation are unknown. We must go to
I them ; they will not return to us. Pray, my dear Lizzie, that
this affliction may be sanctified. If my kindest feelings, my
best wishes, my ardent prayers, can be of any avail to you, he
assured you have them all.
j No doubt you frequently see your mother and sisters. Re-
j member me most affectionately to them, and beg of them not
j to judge from my silence that they are effaced from my me¬
mory. Far from it. Be assured, though distance separates
us, you are all often, very often, the subject of my thoughts;
and were I more the pen of a ready writer, I would have con-
LETTERS.
letters.
63
vinced you that my affections are as ardent as ever. You
know that I am not with my sisters, and frequently they have
communication with you that I am ignorant of until too late
to join them. I have thought at times it may have produced i
an unfavorable impression, supposing my affections had be¬
come alienated. Far from it. They are too deeply rooted to j
be easily effaced. You must all think of me as the same j
warm and affectionate Aunt Sarah. j
Since writing the above, my dear Lizzie, I received your
kind remembrance of me in the paper containing the obituary
of dear Anna. I had perused it before; but, no doubt, some
little time hence I shall re-peruse it with great pleasure. It
is always pleasant to dwell on the virtues of our dear, depart¬
ed ones. The world has now very few attractions for me, my
dear Lizzie. I look for them very little beyond my own im¬
mediate circle. I am never happier than when in communion
with the high and lofty One who inhabiteth eternity. My
sisters are ignorant of my writing, otherwise they would send
you some message. They were well two days ago.
Now, farewell, my beloved niece. May you be guided in
the path of duty, which is the path of peace. My best re¬
gards to Mr. Perry, and kiss the little ones for me.
Your unfeignedly attached Aunt,
SARAH MATHEWS.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Ravenscroft, Jan. 28th, 1859.
My Dear Lizzie: I was sick in bed when I heard of the
great affliction Major Perry and yourself were in. I am now
up, and take the earliest opportunity to offer both my sympa¬
thy. It is not for form's sake, Lizzie; it.comes really from
the heart. I truly feel for you both. I know well the agony
of losing children, especially one so lovely and promising as
yours. I lost one when he was 18 years old. He was af¬
fectionate, obedient, and withal handsome and manly. One of j
his teachers said in his obituary, " In the circle of his young
associates he had many attached friends—not a single foe."
You see, Lizzie, I have felt the same agony you both feel, and
know how to sympathize. It is very gratifying to have the
sympathy of relations and friends. There is but one that has
power to allay the agony of the heart. And I know and
hope both have gone to Him, the all-wise and merciful Being
64
letters.
who alono knows how to heal the wounded heart. Your love-
ly and promising daughter is now in glory with angels and
the spirits of the righteous, clothed with the habiliments of
righteousness, playing on a golden harp. Think of her in that
light and I am sure you would not wish her back to this
world of trial and sorrow. I never think of my children in
the grave. I follow their spirits to Heaven and think of their
happiness there. The Lord, in mercy, may have taken your
tender and beautiful daughter from trials and trouble that fa¬
ther and mother could not have shielded her from. You will
never see your lovely daughter again in this world. If you
are both faithful in your religious course, you will meet your
lovely daughter again in glory, never, never to. part. What a
glorious hope!
God bless and comfort you both is the earnest prajer of
Your affectionate friend and relation,
MARY Y„ THOMAS.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Charleston, Jan 29th, 1859.
You have never been out of my thoughts for a moment,
my dear cousin, since we heard that our dear Anna had left
this suffering world. I have often wished to write, but felt
myself so inadequate to console under so deep a sorrow ; yet,
I cannot help the strong desire to express my deep sympathy
with you and with Maj. Perry. The loss of such a daughter
is indeed an affliction—a crushing blow from which you could
never rise; for, however prosperous you may be as a family,
your hearts will ever turn to the memory of your darling
child. You will view all things with chastened feeling, and
can never for one moment forget that she was. May you be
enabled by faith and hope to think of her as an angel of God,
and anticipate a blessed re-union with her, whenever God, in
His wise Providence, shall call you hence.
I cannot tell you how much interest we felt in the pages
sister Sarah sent us, giving us an account of her last days,
She must have suffered more than I had any idea of. Now
she looks back and rejoices that she was counted worthy to
suffer for Christ's sake. What a delightful thought that she
is now free from all sin and sorrow, perfectly happy, and sub¬
ject to none of the infirmities which encompass the happiest
of God's creatures. Man is born to trouble, and as long as we
L E T T EES.
65
are in the flesh, how we groan teneath the burden of it. I
think that Maj. Perry and yourself, whenever you suffer, either
in mind or body, will rejoice that she is free. Her expressions
of deep penitence show an awakened conscience and a contrite
j heart, which God did not despise. I was much pleased with
I Mr. Gail lard's letter, for he says that she hoped for pardon on¬
ly through the merits of Christ. The most sincere and heart¬
felt repentance cannot save us. Our sins require such an atone¬
ment as Christ has made. Even the severest sufferings could
not expiate our offences against a holy God. How holy, we
can only realize by dwelling on the sufferings of His own Son,
! which were required to satisfy Divine justice. From all you
say, Anna must have felt all this, and, therefore, we know that
j she is safe. To come to Christ with an obedient faith is all
i that is required. It must give you great happiness, my dear
cousin, to dwell on the last days of her life—her humility, her
I patience and her affection for all around her. Her brothers
| and sister have, indeed, sustained an irreparable loss, but I
j trust that her death may be so blessed to them that it may be
! like good seed which will bring forth a glorious harvest. She
! can never be forgotten, even by those who saw her but seldom,
i for her intelligence and vivacity always interested, and when
j she became known, all were attached to her. Truly, your
I home must be desolate without her, and your hearts sore when
| you miss her winning ways and pleasant companionship. I
trust, my dear cousin, that God may so bless this to both her
parents, that they may be enabled to say, "It is good for me
that I have been afflicted." These seasons of deep sorrow are
often more blest to the soul than years of prosperity. When
we feel a sense of desolation, Jesus Christ is the more precious
to our souls ; at least, so it is with the true Christian, and so,
I trust, you feel, my dear cousin. I have thought much of
! Willie and Frank. I know they will grieve the more, because
| they were not with her. I trust that this sad affliction may
j be blest to them, and that it may not be like a tempest, which
| often leaves such desolating effects, but like a gentle snow-
i storm, which, although it destroys the beauty of the land¬
scape, fertilizes the soil, and causes vegetation to spring up
j with renewed vigor. So may it be in your hearts.
I Your friends here seem to have sympathized most deeply
i with you. Anna was a great favorite wherever she went. I
often thought that she would be a much-admired woman, but
God has destined her for a happier sphere. I have been much
66
letters.
interrupted, my dear'Cousin. You must destroy this, for I will
write soon again. A<11 the circle unite with me in affectionate
sympathy for Maj. Pewy and yourself.
Yours, ELIZA.
Mrs. 33. F. Perry.
Tammossef., Feb. 22d, 1859.
My Dear Cousin: I fear that from my long silence you will
be led to think that I have not sympathized with you in your
late, most painful trial. I assure you that this is by no means
the case. Circumstances, which I will explain to you, have
prevented me from writing to you before, but I have constant¬
ly thought of Major Perry and yourself and deeply felt for
you. I have judged of your feelings by thinking what ours
would be were we to be exposed to the same trial. I have of¬
ten thought of your dear Anna, too, and tried to imagine how
she looked now, for several years had passed since I had seen
her. She was then a child, but now was grown up.
Oh I I know it must be a sad trial to part with such
a sweet, young daughter as your dear Anna 5 but remem¬
ber, " affliction springeth not from the dust," and surely there
is mercy mingled with judgment here. Your sweet, unsophis¬
ticated child is safely housed from all the storms of life for-
j| ever. No sickness, no sorrow, can ever more trouble her now.
j! She is with her Saviour and her God, perfectly happy and
I pure. Would you recall her to this world of care and sorrow
I if you could ? this world, where even bliss is so uncertain and
j short, but where care and sorrow are far more common. Life
is so short that a few more years will enable you to meet her
again, never more, I trust, to be separated. I do feel very
much obliged to you for sending me the little book of such
sweet and tou,ch%ng notices of dear Anna's death. I thank
you, indeed, for doing so, and will more deeply regret that I
had not known her better. Her father and yourself, dear
cousin, have now a tie, and a strong one, drawing you to Hea¬
ven. Had it not been so, you ndght have been too happy in
the enjoyment of these sweet, earthly blessings, to remember
the Giver of them all as He wishes to be remembered.
Mr. Sharpe wished, very much to go to see you when in Co¬
lumbia, but was told that you did not like to receive any but
very intimate friends, and therefore refrained. Still, he feared
that there might be some mistake, and begs me now to men-
letters.
67
tion this to you and the Major, and to convey to both of you
his most sincere sympathy in your bereavement. Do give my |
best love and sympathy, with Mr. Sharpe's and Patsev's also,
(who really seems to feel the death of this cousin, not seen by
her but often talked of,) to Aunt Susan, and Cousin Susan and.
Ann. They, also, have lost a sweet, young relative, much
loved and cherished. The loss must be great, especially to the
afflicted ^rand-mother. j
Dear Lizzie, persuade Major Perry to bring you and the |
children to stay with us next summer for a change, to divert j
your mind. We sympathize with you both, and feel deeply j
for you. The place is secluded from the world, yet it is a
sweet place, and the climate bracing. Dothinkof. it. Write
soonj if not too trying to do so, and whenever you may feel
like it, and believe me, dear Lizzie,
Your affectionate and devoted cousin,
FANNY H. SHARPE.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Philadelphia, Jan. 23d, 1859.
My Dear Mrs. Perry : It was with heartfelt grief that we
received the sad intelligence of dear Anna's death. Dear
child, her sufferings are now over, and let us hope with a
Christian faith that she has made a happy exchange. She has
passed away from earth. a pure, bright spirit, before she was
contaminated with the dust of earth, and rests now in peace j
with her God. It seems only a short time ago when she was
with us, and although she was suffering from the disease which
terminated in her death, we still had hopes that, with her
youth, she might overcome the disease. Dr. Jackson always ;
looked upon her ease as a very serious one, from the second
time he saw Anna and examined her lungs. Each time he
came the disease seemed to increase, although he did every j
thing in his power to check it, and for a time it seemed to j
yield to medical skill. Dr. Jackson was then in hopes that I
with the change of a more genial climate she might get well, j
although -he feared, from the extreme weakness of her condi- i
tion, she would not recover. Dr. Jackson told me he did not
think your dear Anna's going to Burlington was the cause of
her sickness. I tell you this, my dear friend, for I know you
have always blamed yourself for placing your dear child at
Burlington. Your darling child had always the greatest,.con-
68
LETTERS.
fidence in Dr. Jackson. If she had been his own child lie
could not have been more attentive or devoted to her. What¬
ever he would advise, Anna would always say, "If Dr. Jackson
thinks it right I will do itand when I would ask if I could
do little things for her, she would always reply : "If you think
it right I will do anything you say.1' She was always so pa¬
tient and cheerful in her sickness. Let me, then, weep with
you, my dear friends, over the untimely death of your dear
child. I know how agonizing must be your grief—the idol
of her parents, the companion of her brothers and sister, and
the affectionate and gentle friend. In bowing submissively to
the will of God, who has called her to her heavenly home, let
us hope, through the promises of the Saviour, who has de¬
clared, "I-am the resurrection and the life; he that believetli
in me, though he be dead, shall live," that we will meet your
dear child in a purer and better world.
My uncle joins me in the deepest expressions of sympathy
to Maj. Perry, yourself and all the family. Your dear child's
cherished remembrance will always live in our hearts. The
servants were all deeply affected when I told them the sad
news. Sally, my maid, was very much attached to your dear
child. Believe me ever
Your sincere friend,
MARY GRAHAM.
To Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Dear Friends! Kind Friends ! Afflicted Friends : How
can I begin to tell you with what deep, heart feeling I perused
the contents of the Greenville. Patriot, which you were
thoughtful enough to send us. I did not feel like intruding a
letter upon you during the first moments of your great affliction,
because, indeed, there is nothing harder than to know what to
say to friends who are in sorrow ; and the best way is to feel
with them and be silent. 1 grieve that the sincere and affec¬
tionate sympathy, which we feel in your great distress, cannot
in the least mitigate it, and I lament the impotence of human
friendship, which is for the most part obliged to waste itself in
idle wishes and fruitless designs, without being of any actual
service to those whose sorrows it would so gladly relieve. I
can easily conceive what your sufferings must be, though I
trust that that gracious God, whom we all love and serve, has
LETTERS.
69
made your strength equal to your trials. May His blessings
then, rest upon you at home and abroad, in temporals and
spirituals, in time and in eternity.
Your truly sympathizing friend,
JOSEPHINE LeCONTE.
To Mr. and Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Live Oak, Jan. 26tb, 1859.
My Dear Friend : I should be doing the greatest injustice
to the feelings of my own heart, to be siient in this season of
deep affliction to you. Pray pardon me, if I am opening vour
' wounds afresh in tendering you and your estimable husband
our joint sympathy. Could the condolence of friends alleviate
your stricken hearts, you would be speedily relieved ; but how
utleily powerless are we of ourselves. God alone can assuage
i your anguish. But I need not point you to the sou'-ce of all
I good; you have long since " chosen the better part," and I
trust you are fully supported by all the virtues and graces
j that adorn the Christian character. Yet, this source of grief
calls forth all the tenderest and most endearing ties that exist
in nature. All fortitude forsakes us, and we feel that there is
no balm for our wounds. The sweetest flower from the gar¬
den has been plucked, ere it was assailed by rude blasts, and
transplanted in a more genial clime, there to bloom in unri¬
valled and unfading loveliness. O, that we could feel that we
were rearing a nursery for Heaven, what a transporting view
of the future would present itself! we would readily exclaim,
" I would not live alway." Be comforted, my dear friends ;
review God's mercies, and it is marvellous to witness His won¬
derful forbearance thus long. Why should we be exempt
from affliction ? We "receive good from His hands, why not
evil also ?" He never chastens in vain, and grievous as His
dispensations are, and enveloped in mystery, we must regard
them as blessings in disguise. Heretofore, life has been one
unruffled current. As your good mother said to me, " you
had never known anything but happinesswe, too, have been
exempt. But why this ? My transgressions are daily and num¬
berless, but God, in mercy, spares me ; but I trust, when my day
of trouble comes, I may bow in humble submission, and say
from my heart, " Thy will, O Lord, and not mine be done."
I am wearying you, and conclude with the sincere hope that
you are in the full enjoyment of spiritual comfort. I hope you
10
letters.
have received Jane's letter, who, with her father, joins me in
love and kind regards to yourself, Maj. Perry, your mother
and sister.
Your true and sympathizing friend, J. M. ADAMS.
To Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Charleston, Feb. 9th, 1859.
My Dear Mrs. Perry: I have thought often and much of
you and Mr. Perry, since I heard that the blow, expected, in¬
deed, but grievous to be borne, had fallen on you. It is not
with the thought that I can suggest any new source of conso¬
lation that I write you. I know that you rest on the Rock of
Ages, as did your lovely and cherished child, If you could be
permitted to draw aside the curtain that shuts from our view
the unseen world, your sorrow would, I doubt not, be turned
into joy unspeakable. This can only be done by the exercise
of faith.
I hope that in the depth of sorrow you realize the strong
and triumphant consolation of the Christian hope, and can
dwell on that passage in St. Paul's epistle to the Romans—
" For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels,
nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to
come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be
able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ
Jesus our Lord." These are the words of inspiration; what
can be added to them? Grief, deep and.strong, I know you
must suffer. It is the voice of nature; but, if, in the depth
of affliction, you can hear that voice, which says, " It is I, be
not afraid," surely consolation and hope triumph over sorrow.
Allow me to assure you of my sincere sympathy, and thank
you for the attention of a copy of the " Obituary Notices and
Poems also, for two numbers of the Greenville paper. My
daughter, Adele, desires me to offer her kind remembrance and
earnest sympathy to you and Mr. Perry. Mr. Allston would
do the same if he were here; but he has been all the winter
in the country, working on his plantation with the energy of a
young man. He is making arrangements to establish our son,
Ben, as a planter, which accounts for this renewed interest in
all the avocations of country life.
"With sentiments of high regard and true sympathy, I am
Very truly, yours, ADELE ALLSTON.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
letters.
11
Charleston, Jan. 27th, 1859.
My Dear, Afflicted Friend : Although I can now with great
difficulty see to write intelligibly, I am irresistibly impelled to
address you, to assure you of our deep sympathy. Through
the past months of your bitter trials, we have made constant
inquiries of your relations respecting the state of your family.
We are far from you, but the Doctor and myself have wept
over the blasting of your fallacious hopes. " Dry thy tears,
poor, stricken parents. An early death has been an early
crown. The tie sundered here links you to the throne of
God. You are the relatives of a ransomed saint. Weep not;
she is not dead, but sleepeth. Yea, weep not; she is not
dead, but sleepeth !
God has thus early plucked this lily bow from you, but it
may be to shield it from some rough blast. If He so soon
folds His lamb, it may be to save it from having its fleece
soiled with earthly corruption. Besides, who can tell what
may have been brooding in a dark horizon ? The life, freight¬
ed with greatest promise, might have made shipwreck on this
world's treacherous sea. You may now be exclaiming, "I am
indeed bereaved !" You may see nothing but plans crossed,
and gourds laid low, and beautiful rods broken ; but, remem¬
ber, you have but a partial view of these dealings, all seen by
the eye of sense through a dim and distorted medium. God's
plans are here in embryo. We are but broken links of the
chains of His Providence. Let the Former work His own clay
in what form He pleaseth. But what a flood of light will
break upon us hereafter, when we shall see light!
In time to come, when you are able, write to me, dear Lizzie,
and tell me where the body " rests in its bed." The
grave is its couch of repose. She said, " Bury me in some
pretty place by Papa ! " Dear child, she is enshrined in his
heart of hearts.
In conclusion, I will only say, " May you enter into realities
of consolation you have never imagined to be in God." May
you be wonderfully supported. Affectionately and truly,
Your friend,
A. 0. MICHEL.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
72
letters.
Cross Keys, Jan. 21st, 1859.
My Dear Friend : How can I express to you the feeling of
sympathy I have for you. Language fails me when I would
try, but still I will try and say something to soothe your
wounded heart. I would have written you last mail, as I
heard through my sister that your darling child was gone. I
can say no more but that I feel confident she is an angel above.
Oh ! what a patient sufferer she was ! I feel, my friend, your
grief is great, although you know she has ceased to suffer, and
is out of all pain. Try to be reconciled to God's will, and
bear up under this, the only trouble you have ever known. I am
grieved sorely for your loss, as she was truly a treasure, and
she had endeared herself to many. Oh, how many ! But
the cord of life has broken, and she has gone only a short
time before the rest of us. As much as I loved her I would
not have her suffer here in this sinful world, and then suffer
the pangs of death again. You have no idea how I loved
your child. I always loved her from her infancy, although
she knew it not. What a shock to her absent brothers! I
hope they may remember her last words to them. Do try
and be comforted. Look to God and he will help you ; for
earthly friends you have many, and your husband and dear
little ones are near you, and your dear Christian mother, who
will do all and everything that can be thought of to take
away any and all pangs from your poor, wounded heart. I have
just read the notice of her in the paper, and ray heart bleeds
afresh. Oh 1 how many tears and prayers have been offered
for her restoration !
Poor, dear, little Fannie ! she has no sister now to counsel or
instruct her. I do hope she may fill the absent one's place
as near as she can. I hope you will not allow yourself to mourn
till your health suffers from it, for remember, those whom
God loves he chasteneth. Oh 1 that I could pour the oil of
comfort into your wounded heart, how cheerfully would I do
so. Farewell, and may God bless and be with you in this
your hour of need, is the wish and prayer of
Your sincere friend, <
M. THOMPSON.
To Mrs. Perry.
letters,
*73
i Greenville, March 28th, 1859,
1 Many thanks, my dear friend, for sending- me your beautiful
| letter,-and those of your darling Anna. My feelings overcame
j me so much, while reading them, that I could scarcely get
| through. Oh ! my friend, yours has, indeed, been a severe and
heart-rending trial. Such a sweet and lovely child as she was,
lovely in every respect, to be called upon to give her up for¬
ever and see her no more, seems more than the human heart
can bear. But she is happy, and we should not repine. What
a comfort and consolation it must be to you to think that she
was willing to go, and now, released from all her sufferings, is
at rest in her Saviour's arms, where, after a few short years
here, you will join her, never, never more to part. Were it
not for the hopes which reach beyond the grave, it would be
1 almost impossible to bear up under such crushing and over¬
whelming afflictions. I will keep your letter until to-morrow,
as Lydia and myself wish to read it again. I will copy some
lines that I have, and send you with this note. I think you
will like them. Hoping that God will soothe your afflicted
heart, I remain
Your affectionate friend,
E. W. CROFT.
Mrs. B. F. Peeev.
THE EARLY DEAD.
Too bright, too beautiful for earth,
Was she who gladdened every heart 1
The blessed sunbeam of each hearth—
Her light seemed of our life a part.
Weep—for her voice will greet no more;
Weep—for her brow of love is dim ;
Where Heaven's eternal fountains pour,
Her spirit breathes its glorious hymn.
Mother of her, our loved and dead,
Though many a fair plant round thee bloom,
Long will thy bitter tears be shed,
Where the pale roses shade her tomb ;
Yet, as thou mourn'st, remember, too,
She hath been spared the toil and strife,
The wasting grief, the dreams untrue,
The thousand ills of human life.
Remember, when 'mid your sweet band,
Thou art offering up thy soul in prayer,
That she who treads the " better land,"
Her vow with thine is mingling there !
74
LETTERS.
Thou hast the memory of her worth,
Thy future's shadowy vale to cheer;
Though brief her pilgrimage on earth,
'Twas marked by virtues rare and dear.
Father, rejoice that once thou called
So rich a treasure all thine own—
Rejoice, e'en though by cares enthralled,
That o'er thy path her love once shone ;
Speak of her oft to those who still
Around thee shed hope's blissful ray ;
And, as with joy their young hearts thrill,
Bless Him who thus hath strewn thy way.
Sister, at noon and eve, who'd miss,
As wearied from von halls ye come,
Her bounding step, her playful kiss,
Her laughing glance to greet you home ;
New pleasures in your path will spring,
New ties, perchance, will round you twine;
Tet think not Time's o'erladen wing
Hath aught more fair than her we shrine.
Brothers, it seemed a darkened hour
When from this world your playmate passed ;
When on eich tree and bursting flower
Your idol sister gazed her last.
The turf is on her, and for you
Love's harp its sweetest chord hath lost;
Brothers, prove to her memory true,
As on life's wave your barks are tossed.
The turf is on her—weep not now ;
All blessings crown the early dead !
She was called home, ere from her brow
One trace of radiant mirth had fled;
Knowing but Love's unclouded sun,
Her dream was bright as brief—
Rejoice that, when the goal she won,
Her crown had not a withered leaf!
January 15th, 1859.
My Dear Friend: I send this morning to ask how you are,
and to assure you of my sincere and heartfelt sympathy in
your late sorrowful bereavement. A parent myself, I can well
understand the nature of your grief for the loss of a dear
child. Admired and beloved by all who knew her, she was
truly a gem too blight for earth. Is it not sweet to contem¬
plate her, not as a sufferer, now, but as a beautiful and glori¬
fied spirit, forming one of that happy throng,
LETTERS. *75
" 'Round the altar night and day,
Tuning their triumphant song?"
With kind regards and sympathy, believe me, truly,
Your friend,
M. A. BACON.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Greenville, Jan. 17th, 1859.
My Dear Friend: The little Book you sent me, on yester¬
day, I read with pleasure, and am glad that it has been the
means of comforting your stricken heart. The circumstances
connected with it are touching. It shows that the dear child
was even then thoughtful beyond her years. Your tender
note has touched a chord in mv heart. I have had all the feel¬
ings you mention, nor would I chide your grief. It is a relief
to weep, for after the tears have ceased to flow the heart will
still continue to weep bitterly. You have everything to com¬
fort you in the death of your sainted Anna—her calm and
peaceful departure; not a fear; no dread of death; not a
cloud to obscure the bright future that awaited her sweet
spirit—a morning to her without clouds. I send you the
" Faithful Promiser." It was given to me under similar cir¬
cumstances by a dear Pastor; I think you will like it. Tell
Fannie I think much of her, and that she must be all to you
that her dear sister was. Mr. Bacon joins me in cordial re¬
gards to you. He says Anna was always a favorite with him,
that he shall ever cherish her memory.
Hoping you are better to-day, I am yours, with the deepest
sympathy. M. A. BACON.
To Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Parsonage, Wednesday Morning.
My Dear Mrs. Perry: 1 read with interest your affecting
letter. I do, indeed, feel a deep interest in everything con¬
cerning your departed loved one. I thought, the first time I
saw her after her return from the North, that she was death-
struck, and every day, till her death, did I pray for you and
her. How often, as I have seen her enter Church with her
high-bred and noble air, so superior to those around her, have I
pictured a bright future Or her. But, ah ! how much brighter
it is than any I had fancied ! Let me entreat you, my dear
friend, to be comforted.
16
LETTERS.
Oh, -who, in such a world as this,
Could bear their share of pain,
Did not one radiant hope of bliss,
Unclouded, yet remain ?
I hope this note will not be intrusive. I have wished to
write you before, but knew no words could comfort you. I
can appreciate your wish to be alone. I did not expect to see
you when I called, but preferred going in person to enquire
after you. With kind regards for yourself and Maj. Perry, I am
Yours, most truly,
NANNIE W. ARTHUR.
To Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Charleston, April 2d, 1859.
Dear Mrs. Perry : When first I heard of your deep afflic¬
tion, my impulse was to write and express to you the sympa¬
thy we all felt for you, but it seemed almost an intrusion in
the first hours of your bitter grief. How well I remember
your bright anticipations ef Anna's future, and when from
others I had afterwards heard how fully the promise of her
early youth had been fulfilled, believe me, we sorrowed for
you as only those can do, who, like you, have seen the lovely
and beloved go down into the valley of the shadow of death ;
who feel the parting would be too keen a pang, had we not
the sweet comfort that, if we can only continue faithful unto
death, in the bright morning of the Resurrection we shall
meet again the " blessed dead who have died in the Lord,"
and in that new heaven and earth, that new Jerusalem, where
God has promised to wipe away all tears, we know that there
shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither
shall there be any more pain, for the former things have passed
away."
Dear Mrs. Perry, if at any time you feel that it would be a
comfort to you to speak of a sacred grief, I would be glad to
hear from you. The pamphlet you sent me I have read with
interest, and know that even in your great grief you have
felt the holy peace of a Christian's death-bed.
My mother and sister beg to be remembered to you, and
with my warmest sympathy for all who have sorrowed with
you, believe me,
Your sincere friend,
CATHARINE TRESCOT.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
letters.
77
How beautiful she lies upon her pure white bed,
While pale flowers o'er her brow a holy inceuse shed ;
The eyelids tremble not; so peaceful is her rest.
That even her maiden heart lies silent in her breast.
Why o'er the sweet, calm face, fond mother, dost thou weep ?
Wouldst thou awake thy child from such a quiet sleep?
She is asleep with Him whose love alone is pure,
Within whose presence bliss shall evermore endure.
No grief, no care, no pain, can ever pierce her heart,
No loved voice say ag un, " Sweet sister, must we part ?"
The living waters white have quenched her spirit's thirst,
And on her soul the light of holiness has burst.
Why weep we, then, for her whose days of pain are o'er ?
Bright hands have wiped her tears, and she shall weep no more;
To sorrow and to tears the brides of earth are given—
Oh, bless her as she lies, the pure young bride of Heaven.
L. J. P.
Charleston, Jan. 31st, 1859.
Dear Sir: My sisters desire to join with me in expressing
to Mrs. Perry and yourself our sincere sympathy in your afflic¬
tion. We thank you, too, for your kindness in sending to us
the little pamphlet, which contains so affecting a tribute to
our dear Anna. It is, indeed, a most touching memento of
her worth, and we, who knew her so well, feel that the picture
is no exaggerated one.
The sorrow of a parent is something too sacred to intrude
upon, even by expressions of condolence or sympathy. But
you must allow us to say with how entire an appreciation of
its truth we have read the simple record.
During the months that she passed beneath our roof, your
daughter endeared herself to all around by her cheerful man¬
ners, her ready sympathy, her open, unaffected character. Her
readiness to acknowledge any little error, her desire to correct
any fault, sprang from a higher source than mere natural amia¬
bility. They were the fruits of that religious principle which
her mother's teachings had even then implanted in her mind,
and which, through God's grace, were to ripen for so early a
harvest.
In the spring-time of her youth and loveliness, God has
taken her to himself—taken her from the heat, and the din,
and the brunt of the battle, before it was more than well be¬
gun ; taken her to His rest before she had been made to bear
*78
the burden of the day. Can we grieve that He has called her
so early; that He first made Her his own, and now has taken
her to be with Him forever ? We do, indeed, sorrow for our
own loss, for them who sleep in Jesus, but we know also that
our sorrow is not without hope, and our hearts find rest and
comfort in His word.
Let me once more assure you of our heartfelt sympathy,
both in your sorrow and in the hope which alone can bring
comfort to such grief, and believe me, dear sir,
Respectfully yours,
VICTORIA MURDEN.
B. F. Perry.
St. Mary's Hall, Burlington, N. J.,)
February 19tb, 1859. j
Pardon the liberty I have taken, as a stranger, dear madam,
in addressing you at this season of affliction and sorrow; but,
knowing the severe bereavement that has fallen upon you and
yours, in the death of one who was very dear to me, both as
being an inmate of my room while here, and for her lovely dis¬
position, I could not refrain from expressing the deep sympa¬
thy I feel for your irreparable loss. It is hard, very hard, to
breathe words of consolation to those sorrowing for the be¬
loved ones gone forever from us, never to return; still, I have
realized how soothing it is to the wounded spirit to know
others loved and appreciated the endearing qualities in those
we prized so much.
Yes, she was a lovely flower, born to bud, but not to blossom.
Being too precious for this "vale of tears," God has seen fit,
in His merciful wisdom, to transplant her to a brighter home
on high ; there, as a guardian angel, she will watch over and
gently guide from harm those treasured on earth, awaiting
their coming at the gates of Heaven, and pleading their en¬
trance to that blissful land, where tears and sorrow are un¬
known. She is not lost, but gone before, to dwell in the peace
and joy this world could not give.
Anna was truly beloved by all here, both teachers and pu¬
pils. " To know her was to love her"—ever amiable, modest
and retiring, always gentle and never complaining. 0, how
often has my anxiety for her made me wakeful, and I have gone
to her bed-side with some little remedy to soothe her cough;
she would sweetly thank me and whisper, " Do not mind me,
LETTERS. *79
dear Miss Hewitt; I will soon go to sleep, and be better in
the morning." Yes, she sleeps ; and in the morning of her
brief life will awake better; awake in glory ; awake free from
suffering, free from pain. We cannot mourn her departure—
so blissful, so gentle, so resigned—but we mourn our loss that
we are left. It is, indeed, a beautiful belief, that ever around
us are hovering on viewless wings the spirits of the dead.
They are as ministering angels to those here, and as each link
of affection severs on earth, it binds again in Heaven.
Once more, dear madam, accept my feeble attempt to ex¬
press the heart-felt sympathy of her companions here, and my¬
self. Her loveliness will ever live fresh in our hearts, and our
tears will mingle in remembrance and affection for the dear
one so early gone.
With much respect, yours,
ELIZA H. HEWITT.
To Mrs. Perky.
New London, Conn., Jan. 31st, 1859
My Dear Mrs. Perry: I received, yesterday, the little
book you were so very kind as to send me, and I hasten to as¬
sure you of my sincere, heart-felt sympathy. My own heart
has recently been torn with anguish, and I can the more readi¬
ly join my tears with yours. We have been called upon to
mourn the loss of the tender and devoted mother, the wise
and judicious counsellor, the faithful friend, the mother whose
"children rise up and call her blessed," while you weep for the
daughter who you fondly dreamed would be as a " crown of
glory to your gray hairs"—one conspicuous among her young
friends for her beauty and all those virtues which combine to
form a lovely female character. I remember her as a child;
even then she gave promise of what she afterwards became.
" Oh, what a shadow o'er the heart is flung,
When peals the requiem of the loved and young!"
But, my dear friend, there is no need for me to say that
your loss is her gain. Does notour Father say, "They that
seek me early shall find me and now, all her sufferings over,
her voice helps to swell the glad song of the redeemed. Al¬
though you have lost a child upon earth, let not your thoughts
dwell too constantly upon that; think of the unspeakable joy
of having a child in Heaven forever. My dear mother was
80
[LETTERS.
also Anna Perry,* and they have met at the right hand of
their God. It has always been a favorite idea of mine, and
there is so much consolation in it, that the spirts of those we
love are ever hovering near us, our ministering angels. This
idea is far removed, however, from the belief in spiritualism,
which is leading so many astray. Will you give my love and
cordial sympathy to Maj. Perry, of whose friendship I used to
be proud, and who, I trust, retains some interest in his far-off
cousin. I trust, at some future time, to see Frank in the uni¬
form I prophesied in his childhood. Willie, I suppose will
tread in his father's footsteps. Will you give my love" to Aunt
Butler, if she is in Greenville yet, and tell her I will write her
soon. Pray present me to Mrs. and Miss McCall, and Mrs.
McBee, and believe me,
Very truly, yours,
LIZZIE R. SMITH.
To Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Beaufort, Feb. 4th, 1859.
Dear Mrs. Perry : I received, to-day, a beautiful little print¬
ed memorial of your deceased daughter, sent me kindly by
some unknown friend; and words can scarcely express the
deep sorrow I feel to learn the sad intelligence of her death.
It was not unexpected by me, and often in Columbia I wished
that I could have taken the liberty of preparing your mind
for the great loss I plainly saw you were about to meet. The
disease has been so common in my own family that I could
not mistake it. I felt that your poor Anna's case was hopeless
the moment my eyes rested on her young and still beautiful
face. I had been looking for some notice of her departure
ever since my return, and it was only a few days ago that Mr.
Pope bi'ought me the Courier, containing the obituary, and I
hasten now, with heartfelt sorrow, to offer the sympathy of a
stranger to her much afflicted parents—a stranger, it is true,
but one, nevertheless, who took a deep interest in the young
and innocent creature to whom was allotted so brief a period
in this world. And yet, what consolation can I offer to hearts
so stricken with grief? Only the consolation of Him who
says, " He does not willingly afflict or grieve His children," and
again, " Be still, and know that I am God"—not in anger, not
* Mrs. Commodore Rodgers, sister of Commodore Perry.
letters.
81
in judgment. No ; blessed be God, but as a Father who is too
kind to injure and too wise to err. That He may comfort
and support you both in this hour of deep affliction, is the
heartfelt prayer of
Yours, very respectfully and sincerely,
CATHARINE S. POPE.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Clifton, Va., Feb. 16th, 1859.
My Dear Friend: I was much grieved and surprised, a few-
days since, to receive the little book containing an account of
your lovely daughter's death. I know of no other comfort
than that it gives.
It seems strange to us that death should take as its victim
the most loved and lovely of our friends and family. But,
God's ways are past finding out; let us only believe he intends
it for our good. Perhaps she was an idol—that He will not
allow. She is happier now than she could have been on earth.
Think, then, of your darling child only as an angel in Heaven,
awaiting your arrival in the land of joy and praise.
I was telling my uncle, Col. Tomlin, of her and you all, a
few nights before I received the notice, and was wishing that
Nannie, (my sister,) who is strikingly like her, and exactly
her age, might be friends when they left school.
Give my love to Mrs. Perry. I often think of her, and pray
that God will give her strength to bear up under her great
trouble. I have been wishing I was near enough to send some
flowers to plant near Anna's grave. We have so many beautiful
ones here
May God bless you and sustain you in your deep affliction,
is the sincere prayer of
Your friend,
PEGGY TOMLIN.
Maj. B. F. Perry.
Charleston, Feb. 19th, 1859.
Allow me, dear Mrs. Perry, to offer you my sincere sympa¬
thy on the loss of your beloved daughter. Death does, in¬
deed, select earth's brightest and fairest flowers, leaving a sad
void in the hearts of all who knew and loved her, which can
never be filled. Were it not for the consolations of the Chris-
82
LETTERS.
tian religion, you would sink under your affliction; but He
who sends the sorrow is ever ready to heal the bleeding and
contrite spirit, and promises "As thy day is, so shall thy
strength be." May this be your comfort and hope in this
world of sin and sorrow, until you are called to meet your pre¬
cious angel-child in the mansions of eternal rest and happiness
prepared for the faithful followers of the Lamb.
Present my kindest regards to Maj. Perry and your family ;
also, to your mother and sisters. Believe me, very sincerely,
Your friend,
E. S. JOHNSON.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Mandeville, S. C., March 16th, 1859.
Dear Mrs. Perry : So long a time has elapsed since I wrote
to you last that I am almost fearful at venturing to trouble
you with a letter. Knowing in my heart that it has not been
for want of affection for you, and hoping that you will do me
the justice of believing it to be so, I now write to offer my
sympathy to you, and return thanks for your last favors. I
knew nothing of your bereavement until the last of January.
On my way to Camden I learned of it through Mr. William
Perry. My cousin, Alex. Lide, saw him on the cars. I de¬
sired to see him, so as to send my affectionate regards and
sympathy, but in the press of the crowd I lost him. Since
my return from Camden I have suffered so much from neural¬
gia in the eyes, that I have not had the energy to write. I
have thought of you often, dear Mrs. Perry, and so earnestly
desired to see you. The pleasant hospitality of your mount¬
ain home I shall never forget, and I do offer you the sincerest
sympathy in the loss of your lovely daughter. The death of
the young and beautiful affects me with sadness, but not with
gloom. The associations of the "early dead" are always
poetic, soothing, though touching, and your Anna will always
be as a memory of light and beauty.
I hope you do not think, from my long silence, that I have
lost interest in my noble God-son. Far from it. Should he
ever need a friend's kindly services, he would speedily find out
who was his God-mother. He is quite a stout fellow now, is
not he ? You must oblige me by sending me his ambrotype;
I would prize it highly ; doubly so if his mamma would only
hold him while he is being taken. I am still at home; have
LETTERS.
83
not been absent more than a week at a time since I saw you ;
almost a hermit. This summer I hope I may visit Greenville
again, just to have the pleasure of seeing you, and telling you
and Maj. Perry in person that I am, sincerely,
Your friend,
SUE SPARKS.
To Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Poplar Grove, S. C., March 15th, 1859.
My Dear Mrs. Perry: It is with feelings of the deepest
sympathy that I now venture to take up my pen, and also
with the fear of freshening up grief that is but too recent, and
which may only add to your sorrow, yet, nevertheless, as day
after day passes, I feel that I must write to you and tell you
how much, how very much, we have felt for you in your late
affliction. But, oh, what a comfort yours must be, to think
that your dear child, although just blooming into womanhood,
was meet for her Saviour's kingdom ! Oh ! you sorrow not as
one without hope, and though it seems hard—you, alone, can
know how hard it is—to give up one to whom you looked for
comfort, as advancing years told on you ; yet, when you think of
all the blessings that are still left, you will not murmur at His
will. Perhaps the removal of that beloved object, although it
seems dark to you now, will be cleared up, and what thou
knowest not now you will know hereafter. He whom He
loveth He chasteneth, even as a father his son in whom he de-
lighteth. But it is useless to lengthen out this letter with
phrases which you have heard from numerous friends, so I will
close, leaving you in His hands, who alone can comfort you
on an occasion like this.
Your sincere friend,
ADELA WILKINS.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Somerset, S. C., Jan. 23d, 1859.
My Dear Mrs. Perry : I feel that it is almost needless to
say and express to you my deep grief and sorrow at an event,
which, I may say, I was totally unprepared for. In your last
letter I thought you spoke more hopefully than you had done
for some time before. You spoke of Anna's coming down in
the Spring and spending some time with me here, and I began
84
letters.
to look forward to the time when I would meet one again
whom I truly loved ; one whom I loved for her many endear¬
ing qualities—for to know her was to love her. At school
she was universally beloved, and although an all-wise Provi¬
dence has decreed that we shall not meet again here, still, I
hope and trust that we will meet in that Kingdom above,
where there is " all love and joy and peace." And oh ! my
dear Mrs. Perry, if I could say anything to console you on the
loss of one who must have been dear to all around her, and
how much dearer to a mother! God tells us that He does
not willingly afflict or grieve the children of men. We must
all try and feel that afflictions are sent to try us; they are sent
for our own good. Anna is happy above. Your loss is her
gain. She must have been prepared to meet her heavenly
Father. What a happy death her's was! God grant that we
may be as well prepared.
Please do not think I am intruding upon your deep grief. I
wish to offer you my tenderest sympathy, and my only means
is in writing. I only received the paper this morning. Anna
was dear to me, and although it is three years now since she
stayed with me here, the whole visit comes up vividly before
me. I little thought, then, it would be the last one she would
pay me. I can never regret sufficiently my not knowing of
your being in Columbia, as I certainly would have gone up
with my brother. I wrote as soon as I got your last letter,
but cannot tell whether it was ever received or not. It is a
great consolation to me that I have kept all her letters, and
though I have some other mementoes of her, still, I value
these more than anything else. And, my dear Mrs. Perry, I
talk to you as to the mother of my friend. Did Anna leave
any message for me, her friend far away ? And one of these
days, when you feel better, and able to write, will you not
write and tell me all about it ? I would give almost anything
to get the likeuess so long promised me, and I hope it will not
be too long before I get it.
Father and my brothers all unite in expressing their deep¬
est sympathy to Maj. Perry and yourself, and again I pray to
my Almighty Father to sanctify His correction and affliction to
. those whom he has seeu fit to afflict, and, my dear Mrs. Perry,
I remain, with the deepest sympathy and respect,
ANNA MARIA CAIN.
Mrs. B. F. Perrt.
letters.
85
Somerset, S. 0., Feb. 7th, 1859.
My Dear Mrs. Perry: I am obliged to write and tell you
how highly I appreck te your letter, and thank you at the same
time for writing. It has given me a great deal of satisfaction,
and although I am far away, I sympathize deeply with you. I
myself, though young, have had trouble. I have read and re¬
read your letter over several times, and it has made me shed
bitter tears each time, to think that one I loved so well, whose
character was altogether so loveable, is no more. If it could
be any consolation to know, that up here, where she was for so
short a period, all who knew her when staying with me here,
have expressed great sorrow at the removal to a better world
than this we are journeying in, of her whose image can and
never shall fade from my memory. My dear Mrs. Perry, do
not tell me that I must not forget Anna. She was the only
friend I have ever had of my own age. She told me, when
parting three years ago, that I must not forget her, and I never
shall. I shall only strive to be like her. I would be willing
now to go if I could only die as she did. Tell Fannie I shall
always love her for Anna's sake. She used to tell me so much
about you all that I felt long ago as if I knew you well, and I
have always looked upon you as a friend. You must let Fan¬
nie come down and see me one of these days. I cannot tell
you how very highly I will value a remembrance of Anna.
The likeness I want very much, and then I can have her al¬
ways before me. When I get it I mean to have it copied in
my medallion, which I will always wear. The sermon and
pamphlet I would also be exceedingly obliged to you for. Oh,
my dear Mrs. Perry, I wish I could possibly say anything to
you that would be a consolation to you, or that could alleviate
your grief in any degree. We must strive to think and feel
that we are only here in a state of probation ; that we are
only here for a few short years, in comparison with the thou¬
sands and thousands of years that we are to spend, either
happy or miserable, in other worlds—either in a Heaven where
" sorrow and sighing shall be no more," and where all tears
shall be wiped from off all faces, " a haven where we shall be
at rest and enjoy rest forevermore," or in a world of woe be¬
neath. My dear friend, let me beg you to cheer up. Think
of Anna as an angel above, removed from the cares and trou¬
bles of this world. Think of the joyful meeting at the last
great day ; then there shall be no more separation again, but
joy forever and ever more. I am afraid I am worrying you
86 LETTERS.
too much, but I wanted to write and tell you how very much
I value your letter. Give my love to Fannie. I will love her,
and always regard you as a friend for Anna's sake. Your let¬
ter made me feel more deeply than I can possibly tell you. I
would like very much to hear from you again whenever you
have an inclination to write. My father and brothers unite
with me in sending their respects, and believe me, my dear
Mrs. Perry, to be, with the greatest respect and feeling,
Yours, ANNA MARIA CAIN.
To Mrs. B. F. Perry.
St. Mary's Hall, Burlington, N. J., )
Saturday, Feb. 12th, 1859. j
My Dear Fannie: Several weeks since it was whispered
to me in school one day of the great, the sad loss which you,
your dear mother and father, and all those who loved your sis¬
ter so dearly, had met with. For hours I waited, fearing to
ask if it were true, and hoping so fervently.that it might not
be. My worst fears were realized when I knew that it was;
when I received the little book which was so kindly, so thought¬
fully sent to me, and which I will ever prize so much as the
last thoughts of your sweet sister. When it was first told
me, all the pleasant memories of our happy school days passed
in my thoughts, and I lived over the summer when Anna first
came on to school, when 1 was so glad to find so sweet a
friend. I cannot tell you how much happier it made me to
have one with me whom I so much loved. In the long months,
when I could not hear from Anna, I still loved her, and
thought often how glad it would make me to hear that she
was well again. She had often talked to me of her little sis¬
ter, Fannie, and now I write to tell you how much I mourn
her, how deeply I sympathize with you in this great sorrow.
You, dear Fannie, will be very happy if you grow up to be
like Anna, for everybody loved her. With my best thoughts
dear Anna will always be associated. Thank your father for
sending me the little book. Remember me to your sorrowing
mother. Affectionately,
Yours and your sister's friend,
NELLIE M. ORR.
Miss Fannie Perry.
LETTERS.
81
St. Mary's Hall, Burlington, )
February 26th, 1859. j
Dear Mrs. Perry : I received your kind letter a day or two
since. Many, many thanks. I had so often wished that I
could have heard more about our darling Anna, while she was
so sick, and regretted mucb that we had not written. I know
now that she was too ill to answer my letters, but I wish that
I had written oftener. You were very kind to write to me
again. I read a part of your letter to Miss Hewitt. Mrs
Lamotte, Miss Ogden, and all the teachers, must have thought
Anna better than she really was. T remember how much
they were all shocked when they first heard Dr. Jackson's opin¬
ion. Miss Ogden sends her love to you, and her deepest sym¬
pathy ; says she would write, but can tell you no more about
Anna's illness than what you have heard from her. I think
Miss Hewitt will tell you more. Being in the chamber with
us constantly, she knew every stage of her cough, which was
so painful. Anna suffered much while with us, but bore it all
with such gentleness—never complaining, even after having
passed long nights in the greatest agony. For such loveliness,
such a gentle, uncomplaining spirit, we all loved her. To me
she was very dear. In the same class, and room-mates, we
were scarcely ever separate. She was, too, so intelligent, so
auxious to improve in all her studies, that all her teachers
loved her. You must have been happy in having such a
daughter. My mother, to whom I had often written about
her, says she must have been, indeed, a lovely girl. She often
asked me of her in the letters which she wrote me, and was
grieved that I had not heard for so long how Anna was.
I will leave school this Spring. Anna would have gradua¬
ted in March. All of her class-mates speak of her with affec¬
tion, and we know that when she left us it was a sad loss. It
must be your greatest comfort to think how pure and good
she was. Now she must be happy. Fannie must try and be
good like her sister, and she will be your comfort. I cannot
thank you enough for the precious little book you sent me. It
is a great treasure to me. Mattie McRory left school last Fall.
Since then I have not heard at all from her. How grieved
she will be, for she loved Anna dearly. Much love to Fannie.
I will write to her again, and do love her dearly for Anna's
sake and her own. Anna had so often told me about her lit¬
tle sister. Believe me, ever, yours, very truly and affectionately,
Mrs. B. F. Perry. NELLIE M. ORR.
88
LETTERS.
Newberry, S. C., Jan. 14, 1859, )
Friday Afternoon, j
My Dear Mrs. Perry: I have just received the sad news
of dear Anna's death. I am very sorry I could not get to see
her again. I cannot realize it at all. I cannot think that I
am never more to see her on earth. But I hope to meet her
in beautiful, bright Heaven. Yes, let us not think of her as
lying in the grave, but think of her as singing praises with an¬
gels around our Father's throne. Yes, even n<?w, while we
are mourning here for her, she is an angel bright—
" A crowD upon her forehead,
A harp within her hand."
I have always loved Anna dearly. We have been almost
inseparable friends from our earliest childhood, and who could
help loving her ? " To know her was to love her." Since
she has been sick, I have missed her, oh 1 no one knows how
much. But, though I feared.the worst, I have always hoped
she would get well. I never gave her up. It did not seem
that she could die, so young, so lovely; but poor, darling An¬
na, we will never hear thy sweet voice again. How well do
I remember the last time I saw her. It was the morning be¬
fore she left home. She seemed so cheerful, and talked so
much about getting well. How my hopes all revived ! I felt
sure she would get well. But I have felt- uneasy during all
this cold weather. Dear Anna ! she was too good and pure
for this rough and sinful world. But, poor, broken-hearted
mother, how much you will miss her! How I wish I could throw
my arms around your neck and weep with you. But go, dear
friend, to your heavenly Father. " Cast thy burden on the
Lord and He will sustain thee and comfort thee." The Lord
will not forsake His children in their distress. " Whom the
Lord loveth He chasteneth." He knoweth what is best for
us all. Let us try and bow in submission to His holy will.
He has taken thy darling home to Himself, and He is most
able to take care of her. Yes, let us try and be willing for
Him to take dear Anna to Himself. He has taken her from
all sin and trouble. I know you would rather know she was
safe where no trouble could ever reach her, than to have her to
live to feel the trouble you have felt. Yes, dear Anna is hap¬
py. We can go to her but she cannot come to us. What
is our loss is her gain. Let us try to meet her in Heaven
around the throne of God.
letters.
89
That our Father in Heaven would bind up your bleeding,
broken heart, is the prayer of Anna's darling friend.
MARY MAULDIN.
To Mrs. Perry.
Greenville, March 15th, 1859.
My Dear Friend: I received your note, telling me about
dear Anna, and it was a great consolation to me. Anna's de¬
sire to be remembered will always be fulfilled, I am sure.
Anna is happy, now, and free from the trouble of this world,
and those who loved her on earth can still love her in Heaven ;
and I am sure every one who knew her loved her.
When we go to Anna's grave and see it covered with flow¬
ers, we know that her spirit is in Heaven amidst flowers, only
more beautiful than any on earth.
Yours, affectionately,
JENNIE M. CARSON.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Brooke Hall, Media, Pa., )
April 2d, 1859. )
My Dear Mrs. Perry : I received your letter to Aunt Mary
yesterday, and hasten to comply with the request you made*
of me. Although I have not written to you since the sad
event which deprived you of a lovely daughter, and me of a
friend who I loved better than any other, yet, believe me, it
was not from any decrease of affection towards you. I send
you enclosed the hair which you desired, and as Anna was so
dear to me through life, and as her memory is still so very
dear to me, I have taken the liberty of keeping only a few of
the shorter hairs. I hope you will not object to this. I never
was so shocked and grieved in my life, as when I heard of the
loss of your precious child. When I parted with her in Co¬
lumbia, how little I thought that I never should see her again
on earth.
I hope the rest of your family are well. Give my love to
Fannie, and tell her to pluck one of the flowers from Anna's
resting place and send it to me. With kind remembrances to
the Major, and love to the children and yourself, I remain ever,
Yours, sincerely,
LULIE LeCONTE.
90
LITTER S.
P. S. Would you be willing to give me a copy of the da¬
guerreotype you had with you at Columbia ? If so, send it
to me immediately, and I shall ever be grateful to you.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Live Oak, S. C., Jan, 24th, 1859.
I am fully sensible, my dear Mrs. Perry, that it is scarcely
in my power to say aught to you that would alleviate your
present suffering. Yet, I would ask to mingle my grief with
yours in this sore affliction ; for that reason I presume to ad¬
dress you this note. I would have you know that I, too,
mourn from my heart the death of her who has been thus
early taken from the cares and sorrows of this life. I cannot
express to you what my feelings were when I heard of Anna's
death. And if I felt sad, oh ! what must be the feelings of
her bereaved parents. You, by whom she was so fondly cher¬
ished, whose dearest hopes were centred in her, believe that I
deeply and sincerely sympathize with you in this bereavement.
Were it in my power, how gladly would I pour the balm of
comfort into your wounded hearts. I feel, though, that you
know from what source this consolation can be received. I
know that you have asked for it, and I truly hope it has been
given you. While her death is a very heavy affliction to
you, at the same time there's much to comfort you. You
can think of your dear one as having " gone before"—not dead.
She was too pure for such a world as this, and her bright spi¬
rit has winged its flight to those regions where only the good
and holy dwell. She is happy now, for when the hour of her
departure came, she was sweetly calm and resigned, and from
her heart could she have exclaimed : " Oh ! Death, where is
thy sting ? Oh! Grave, where is thy victory ? "
Ah ! is it not comforting to know that hers was such a happy
end ? Do you not think of her as a bright, beauteous spirit,
gone before you to Heaven to illumine, the way for you whom
she loved and prized on earth ? Forgive me, my dear Mrs.
Perry, if in this letter I have said aught that to you may
seem presumptuous. You well know how dearly I loved Anna ;
my heart still cherishes a sweet remembrance of what she was
when first I learned to love her, and I have written you be¬
cause I wished to tell you of my sympathy for you at this
trying time. Please remember me to your husband, and as¬
sure him, too, of my condolence with him. My parents would
LETTERS.
91
both tender you their heartfelt sympathy. Though they have
never yet known a sorrow like yours, oh 1 believe me, they can
and do feel most deeply for you.
And now, Farewell! With the sincerest wishes for your
happiness, believe me, dear Mrs. Perry,
Very affectionately, yours,
JANIE ADAMS.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Charleston, Jan. 27th, 1859.
My Dear Mrs. Perry: Will you allow me to thank you
heartily for the remembrances you have sent us of your sweet
daughter, Anna, whose early death has given us so much pain ?
Although hearing constantly of her protracted sickness, I could
not at all realize the extent of her malady, and even now can
only think of her as I last saw her, in all the bloom of her
youth and beauty, and when her warm, frank manners won my
whole heart at once towards her. Several years have elapsed
since she spent a few days with us, on her return from a visit
in the country to her friend, Anna Maria, but it seems to me
only as yesterday that I saw her bright face and heard her joy¬
ous laugh, that never failed to excite and retain the admira¬
tion and love of even the stranger who came within the magic
of their influence. It would, indeed, be presumptuous in me
to say more to the mother of Anna of the many excellencies
that adorned the short life of her lovely daughter, and I ought,
even now, to beg forgiveness for the present expressions of
deep sympathy on my part, heightened, as it has been, by
the perusal of the tributes written to Anna's memory. Every
thought of her, to me, is linked with some bright and sunny
recollection, and, though Death has now claimed her for his
own, still, it would be hard for me ever to forget the many
pleasant hours I spent in her company.
With many thanks for your kindness in remembering the
great interest we all took in Anna, and with the hope that
you will excuse the present weak expressions of that interest
that is still continued with regard to all that is connected with
her, I remain,
Yours, sincerely,
ALLIE HORLBECK.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
92
LETTEEB.
Cokesbury, S. C., Feb. 18th, 1859.
Mrs. Perry—My Pear Madam: I thank you very much
for sending me the little book, containing the Obituary Notices
and Poems on the death of Anna, your amiable daughter.
She was a lovely girl; indeed, too much could not be said in
her praise. I sympathize with you deeply in your sad be¬
reavement ; but one thing is consoling, she has no sufferings
nor pains now ; she is enjoying the rewards of the blest.
When your thoughts are with the absent, let this thought
console you—" she is happy." And now, bereaved friend, I
will bid you adieu, praying that this sad affliction may lead
you nearer to the cross of Christ, and that you may again be
re-united in that world above, " where sickness and sorrow,
pain and death, are felt and feared no more."
Yours, in love,
LULA BRANCH.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Fulton, Cobb Co., Ga., )
March 28th, 1859. j
My Pear Mrs. Perry : I once more take up my pen to
renew our correspondence. I intended to write some time ago,
but have been prevented by sickness. I hope you are all well.
I cannot tell you, my dear friend, how shocked I was to hear
of the death of your dearest child. When I think of her as
I last saw her—full of health and spirits—I cannot realize that
she has passed from time to eternity. But I trust our loss is
her gain. We have heard frequently what a lovely girl she
was in every sense of the word. I truly feel for you and her
father. What a trying scene it must have been for all of you.
But I hope the God of all consolation was with you to sus¬
tain and support. How strange to us are the ways of God!
She had everything to live for, and yet she was taken. All
we can do is to submit. Do write me soon, and let me know
how you all are. How are your mother and sisters ? How
often do I think of you and them!
How many of our friends have died lately ! When I think
of them, it seems that the troubles of life are more than I can
bear, but God has promised to be with us through them all.
I must now come to a close. Zelia sends love to you and
the rest of your family; and truly, my dear friend, do we
letters.
93
sympathize with you in your sad affliction, and that God may
bless and keep you all, is my constant prayer. Remember
us all to your mother and sisters; and if we never meet in
this world, may we all meet where parting is no more; and
believe me to be your obliged and sincere friend,
E. J. DUBOC.
To Mrs. B. F. Perrt.
Sherborn, Mass., May 10, 1859.
Dear.Mrs. Perry: Although I have never seen you, yet my
correspondence with your respected husband has sometimes
m ade me feel as though our families had enjoyed a personal ac¬
quaintance. One thing has given this correspondence a peculiar
interest. I refer to the sickness and death of your beloved daugh¬
ter, Anna. The first letter I received from Mr. Perry showed
plainly that his heart was saddened by this dear child's declining
health, and every subsequent communication gave evidence that
this feeling was deepening, until the mournful intelligence came
that she was dead. I had not the same means of knowing
what the mother's feelings were, but often thought of her as
deeply afflicted. Other things being equal, these domestic
trials bear more heavily upon a mother's than a father's heart.
The reason of this I suppose to be found not only in a differ¬
ence of constitution, but in the fact that the wife and mother
is so much at home, and has comparatively so few things of a
public nature to divert her mind. I think of you in your
own dwelling and in your family circle, and feel that you must
bitterly mourn the loss of your daughter; not only as a child
of uncommon promise, but as a delightful companion. But I
have feared lest you might dwell too exclusively upon this af¬
fliction, and especially, lest you should permit it to depress
your spirits so as to unfit you for the duties and enjoyments
of life. While you must feel your loss very deeply, permit
me to say that you must not overlook the pleasant things
connected with your daughter's early death. First of all, re¬
member what occasion you have for gratitude, that God ever
gave you such a child, and permitted you to enjoy her so long.
Then think of her willingness to die, and of the many touch-
ingly beautiful things connected with her departure. Though
called early to enter the unseen world, yet she gave you pleas¬
ing evidence that she was prepared to go. Not only so, but
she entreated her parents to prepare to follow her to Heaven.
94
LETTERS.
Think of her, then, as among the angels, looking down from
those shining ranks upon you, and waiting for you to rise and
join with her in the praises of that blessed state. Although
her death must awaken many feelings of sadness, yet it seems
to me that there is more connected with her departure that is
suited to support, comfort and elevate, than to burden and
depress the soul. Her presence will go with you through the
remainder of your earthly pilgrimage. The remembrance of her
will be likely to guard you against undue attachments to the
world ; but it should not diminish your interest in the duties of
life, nor detract from your cheerfulness or happiness. It is the
blessedness of the gospel that it tits us for just such trials as
that through which you are now passing. I fondly hope and
pray that you may be able to cast yourself entirely upon the
promises of God to the afflicted soul. Do not retire from the
world, but let the world see that, Christ assisting you, you can
patiently and even cheerfully drink this bitter cup.
And now, pardon me, stranger as I am, for addressing you
in this manner. Make my kind regards to your husband, and
tell him that his last letter was duly received, and awakened
a desire in my heart to write a few lines to his afflicted lady.
I will reply to his letter before long. My wife tenders her
sympathies and kind wishes to you in this trial. We should
be exceedingly happy to see you or any of your family at the
North, and in this old town of Sherborn. I shall endeavor to
go to Cambridge and see your son before he graduates.
Yours, truly,
EDMUND DOWSE.
Mrs. B. F. Perry.
Greenville, S. C., March, 1859.
Mrs. B. F. Perry : The valuable memento of your sainted
daughter, which I have received through your kind considera¬
tion, is very highly esteemed and shall be duly cherished by
its grateful recipient.
In returning thanks to you for this unmerited kindness, I
find much embarrassment, from the fear that, owing to the me¬
lancholy circumstances thrown around it, I may awaken some
of the mournful reflections connected therewith, and so cause
a pang that might otherwise have been avoided. The virtues
of the departed should prove incentives to the living, and it is
well that the remembrance of those virtues should be ever
letters.
95
fresh in our minds. As a monitor of this character I shall
ever esteem the memento sent me.
It is not necessary, neither would it be appropriate, for me
here to speak of the lovely character of your gentle daughter—
a daughter still, though in a happier land, in the blissful en¬
joyment of angelic faculties. Neither would I attempt to
pour balm into the wounded hearts—wounded too deeply for
human aid to soothe. The alleviating influences of a Saviour's
love and .sympathy can alone comfort and strengthen the hearts
so deeply afflicted as those of the parents of Anna. This com¬
fort you have no doubt experienced, and in its experience the
afflictions of the Lord have been sanctified.
Could we divest ourselves of all earthly feelings and consid¬
erations, and in the light of inspiration look calmly upon the
messenger sent to take us from mortal toils, and sufferings, and
sorrows, how gladly would we greet him! Could we but
catch a glimpse of the dear departed, who, " through the
blood of the everlasting Covenant," has already entered upon
the blissful existence of the heavenly home—could we but
view her sainted spirit in the holy employments of Heaven,
and catch but one ray of the pleasure that fills her breast as
she performs the glad behests of "Him who died that she
might live"—what a stream of joy would flow in upon our
souls ! to know there is beyond the grave so much of joy, and
glory eternal as the years of the Almighty! Like Paul, we,
too, wou]|^bave " a desire to depart and be with Christper¬
haps even a stronger desire than his was.
But, the revealed doctrine of " ministering spirits," it seems
to me, should afford much consolation to the bereaved. I
have often thought of one long since departed—a dear sister—
who, like your Anna, passed through a long season of affliction
before the messenger came to release her from suffering—and
I have imagined (and believed my imaginings justified by rev¬
elation,) that the sainted spirit was at times permitted to hov¬
er near me in its ministrations of love, (though, for wise
reasons, forbidden to communicate.) There is a joy in the
thought that is not equalled by any mortal pleasure. " Are
they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them
who shall be heirs of salvation ?"
But, then, the thought of a blissful reunion—the hour that
shall come, when, if we are among the ^ redeemed, we shall
meet them in Heaven!—those who have gone before, the dear
departed ones whose absence we have long mourned over, and
96
LETTERS.
whose memories we have tearfully cherished! It is not pos¬
sible, however, for finite minds to conceive the pleasure that
shall then be enjoyed " around the throne of God in Heaven."
We can imagine concerning that joy, as far as our mortal ca¬
pacities are able to imagine immortal things; but, then, how
far short of the reality we must fall!
In closing, allow me to again express my thanks for your
kindness in committing to my keeping a memento around
which clusters so much that is truly worthy of preservation.
With every assurance of sympathy,
I am gratefully yours,
G. E. ELFORD.
Weep not for her—in her Spring-time she flew
To that land where the wings of the soul are unfurl'd,
And now, like a star, beyond evening's cold dew,
Looks radiantly down on the tears of this world.
INDEX.
PAGE.
Arthur, Rev. Thomas S., SermoD, : : : : 20
" " " " Letter, : : : : 38
" Mrs. " " " : : : : : 75
Adams, Mrs. Governor, " : : : : : 69
" Miss Janie, " : : : : ; 90
Allston, Mrs. Governor, " : : : : : 70
Ashmore, Hon. J. D, Lines, : : : : : 24
Aldrich, Col. A. P., Letter, : : : ; : : 28
Bacon, Professor Edmund B., Letter, : : : : 40
" Mrs. " " " ; : : : 74
75
Branch, Miss Lula, " : •. : 92
Croft, Dr. Randell, " : : : : 46
" Mrs. Theodore G., " : : : 73
Cain, Miss Anna Maria, " : : : : 83
« « « « (t . . a ~
• • • I 00
Carson, Miss Jennie M.. " : : : ; 89
Dowse, Rev. Edmund, " 41
« « « " : : : : 93
Duboc, Mrs. E. Jesse, " : : : 92
Dudley, Hon. C. W., " : 47
Elford, G. Errington, Esq., " : : 94
Furman, Rev. Richard, Lines, : : : : : 8
" " " Letter, : : : : : 40
Frean, Rev. Thomas, Lines, : : : 10
" " " Letter, : : : : : 33
Gaillard, Rev. S. S., Thoughts, : : : : 6
" " " Letter, : : : ; : 39
« u <c a * : : * : 49
Graham, Miss Mary, " : : : : : : 67
Hicks, George Washington, A Tribute, : : : : 13
Huntington, Rev. F. D., Chaplain of Harvard Cqllfge, Letter, : 34
c Hayne, Hon. Arthur P., Letter, : : - v': : ' : 49
" Mrs. William Edward, Letter, : : : : 50
<c u 11 11 11 ... . ^2
" « « « « : : : : 54
" Miss Eliza P., " : : : : 64
INDEX.
99
PAGE.
Hewitt, Miss Eliza H., Letter, : : : : 18
Horlbeck, Miss Allie,
Jackson, Dr. Samuel,
Johnson, Miss Eleanor S.,
Keitt, Mrs. Laurence,
: : : : : 91
: ; : : : 53
: : : : : 81
: : : : : 82
Limestone School, Thoughts on Death, : : : 15
LeConte, Professor John, Letter, : : : : : 29
" Mrs. " : : : : 68
" Miss Lulie, " : : : : 89
L. J. P., Verses, :::::: 11
Memminger, Col. C. G., Letter, : : : : : 21
Martin, Mrs. General,
Matthews, Mrs. Wm.,
Michel, Mrs. Wm.,
Murden, Miss Victoria,
MauldiD, Miss Mary,
Obituary, :::::::: 3
O'Ncall, Hon. John Belton, A Thought or Two, : 18
" " " " Letter, : : : 28
O'Hanlon, Col. James, " : : : : 42
Orr, Miss Nellie M., " : : : : 86
« « « « « : : : : SI
Perdicaris, Hon. G. A, " : : : : : 33
Pope, Mrs. Joseph, " : : : : 80
Stuart, Robert, Esq., " : : : : 32
Shand, Rev. Peter J., " : : : : 36
Smith, Mrs. Lieut. Richard, " : : : : : 19
Thompson, Miss Sallie, Anna Perry, : : : : 12
" Hon. Waddy, Letter, : : : : 30
" Mrs. Theodore, " : : : 12
Taylor, Mrs. Alexander R., 51
u « u << u .... gg
Thomas, Mrs. Mary Y., " : : : : : 63
Trescott, Miss Catharine, " : : : : 16
Tomlin, Miss Peggy, " : : : : 81
Wilkins, Mrs. Gouverneur, " : : : : 83
alJIM. tfa4tc^ oco—
ERRATA.—On page 17, 4th line, read "where" for "when." Page 19, 7th
line, read "its" for "it is." Page 21,17th line, read "there" for "these." Page
31, 24th line, read " honorable " for " venerable." Page 50, 40th line, read " child "
for "friend." Page 53, 8th line, read "all lived" for "a choice." Same page, 10th
line, read "special" for "spiritual."
A VOICE OF THE DEPARTED.
I shine in the light of God;
His likeness stamps my brow ;
Through the valley of death my feet have trod,
And I reign in glory now.
No breaking heart is here;
No keen and thrilling pain ;
No wanted cheek, where the frequent tear
Hath rolled and left iti slain.
I have reached the joys of Heaven ;
I am one of the sainted band—
To my head a crown of gold is given,
And a harp is in my hand.
I have learned the song they sing
"Whom Jesus bath set free,
Arrd the glorious walls of Heaven still ring
With my new-born melody.
. No sin, no grief no pain—>
Safe in my happy home ;
My fears all fled, my doubts all slain,
My hour of triumph's come.
Oh, friends of my mortal years,
The trusted and the true,
Ye are waiting still in the valley of tears,
But I wait to welcome you.
Do I forget? Oh, no;
For memory's golden chain
Shall bind my heart to the hearts below,
Till they meet to touch again.
Each link is strong and bright,
And love's electric flame
Flows freely down, like a river of light,
To the world from whence it came.
Do you mourn when another star
Shines out in the glittering sky ?
Do you weep when the raging voice of war
And the storms of conflict die ?
Then why do your tears run down ;
Why your hearts so sorely riven
For another gem in the Saviour's crown,
And another soul in Heaven ?