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 %i$si llarcom's; llBoofes, 
 
 POETICAL WORKS. Household Edition. With 
 
 Portrait. i2mo, $1.50; full gilt, $2.00. 
 POEMS. i6mo, $1.25. 
 AN IDYL OF WORK. i6mo, $1.25. 
 
 WILD ROSES OF CAPE ANN, AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 i6mo, gilt top, $1.25. 
 CHILDHOOD SONGS. Illustrated. i2mo, $1.00. 
 EASTER GLEAMS. Poems. i6mo, parchment 
 
 paper, 75 cents. 
 AS IT IS IN HEAVEN. i6rao, ;? i.oo. 
 AT THE BEAUTIFUL GATE, and other Songs 
 
 OF Faith. i6mo, ^i-oo- 
 THE UNSEEN FRIEND. i6mo, 5i.oo. 
 A NEW ENGLAND GIRLHOOD, outlined from 
 
 Memory. In Riverside Library for Young People. 
 
 i6mo, 75 cents. 
 Holiday Edition. i6mo, $1.25. 
 
 BREATHINGS OF THE BETTER LIFE. Edited by 
 
 Lucy Larcom. iSmo, $1.25. 
 ROADSIDE POEMS FOR SUMMER TRAVELLERS. 
 Selected by Lucy Larcom. iSmo, $3.00. 
 
 HILLSIDE AND SEASIDE IN POETRY. Selected 
 
 by Lucy Larcom. i8mo, $1.00. 
 BECKONINGS FOR EVERY DAY. A Collection of 
 
 Quotations for each day in the year. Compiled by 
 
 Lucy Larcom. i6mo, $1.00. 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY, 
 
 Boston and New York.
 
 LUCY LARCOM 
 LIFE, LETTERS, AND DIARY 
 
 BY 
 
 DANIEL DULANY ADDISON 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 1S95
 
 C^ (^ t^J ^ 
 
 Copyright, 1894, 
 Bt DANIEL DULANT ADDISON. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Hougliton & Co.
 
 PKEFACE. 
 
 It was tlie purpose of Miss Larcom to write a 
 sequel to lier book, " A New England Girlhood," 
 in whicli she intended to give some account of her 
 life in the log-cabins on the Western prairies as a 
 pioneer and schoolmistress, and her experiences as 
 a teacher in Wheaton Seminary, and as an editor 
 and literary woman. She also wished to trace the 
 growth of her religious ideas by showing the pro- 
 cess through which she was led to undergo changes 
 that finally made her accept a less rigorous the- 
 ology than the one in which she had been reared. 
 Her fascinating style, with its wealth of reminis- 
 cence and interesting detail, would have character- 
 ized her later book, as it did the former, but she 
 died before beginning it, and American literature 
 has lost a valuable record of a woman's life. A 
 keen observer, her contact with famous men and 
 women gave her an opportunity for a large know- 
 ledge of persons and events ; deeply interested in 
 the questions of the day, her comments would have 
 been just and luminous ; and her sensitiveness to 
 impressions was such that the varied influences 
 upon her life would have been most attractively
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 presented. Slie was deeply spiritual, and the 
 account of her religious experiences would have 
 supplemented the moral power of her published 
 works ; but she was not permitted to give us, in 
 autobiographical form, the rich fruits of a well- 
 spent life. 
 
 The only preparation she had made for this book 
 was a few notes suggesting a title and headings of 
 the chapters. She proposed naming it, " Hither- 
 ward: A Life-Path Retraced." The suggestions 
 for chapters indicate the subjects that she intended 
 to treat, — " The Charm of Elsewhere ; " " Over 
 the Prairies ; " " Log-Cabin Experiences ; " "A 
 Pioneer Schoolmistress ; " " Teacher and Stu- 
 dent ; " Back to the Bay State ; " " Undercur- 
 rents ; " " Beneath Norton Elms ; " " During the 
 War ;" " With ' Our Young Folks ; '" " Success- 
 ful Failures ; " and " Going On." 
 
 After her death, her papers came into my pos- 
 session. An examination showed that there was 
 material enough in her letters and diary to pre- 
 serve still some record of her later life, and pos- 
 sibly to continue the narrative which she had given 
 in " A New England Girlhood." 
 
 It will be noticed that some years are treated 
 more at length than others, the reason for this 
 being that more data have been accessible for those 
 periods ; and also, as is the case with most lives,
 
 PREFACE. V 
 
 there were epochs of intenser emotion, more last- 
 ing experiences, and deeper friendships, the account 
 of which is of greater vakie to the general reader 
 than the more commonplace incidents of her career. 
 
 Her life was one of thought, not of action. In 
 their outward movement, her days flowed on very 
 smoothly. She had no remarkable adventures ; 
 but she had a constant succession of mental vicis- 
 situdes, which are often more dramatic and real 
 than the outward events of even a varied life. In 
 her loves and sympathies, in her philosophy of 
 living and her creed, in her literary labors, — her 
 poetry and her prose, — in her studies of man, 
 nature, and God, she revealed a mind continually 
 venturing into the known and unknown, and bring- 
 ing back trophies of struggles and victories, of 
 doubts and beliefs, of despair and faith. My aim 
 has been to present the character of a New Eng- 
 land woman, as it was thus moulded by the intel- 
 lectual and moral forces of American living for the 
 last fifty years; and to show how she absorbed 
 the best from all sides, and responded to the high- 
 est influences. 
 
 There are passages in her diaries that remind 
 one of Pascal's " Thoughts," for their frankness 
 and spiritual depth; there are others that recall 
 Amiel's Journal, with its record of emotions and 
 longings after light. If such a singularly trans-
 
 Vi PREFACE. 
 
 parent and pure life had preserved for us its inner 
 history, it would he more valuable than any record 
 of mere outvvaixl events. Some such inner history 
 I have attempted to give, by making selections 
 from her journal and letters ; and if, at times, I 
 have allowed her inmost thoughts and motives to 
 be disclosed, it has been with the feeling that such 
 frankness would be helpful in portraying a soul 
 stirred with love for the beautiful, a heart loving 
 humanity, a spirit with the passion for God in it. 
 She once said, " I am willing to make any part of 
 my life public, if it will help others." 
 
 One soon sees that the religious element pre- 
 dominated in her character. From her earliest 
 years, these questions of the soul's relation to man, 
 to nature, and to God were uppermost in her 
 mind. She was impelled to master them ; and as 
 Jacob wrestled with the angel, she could not let 
 Life go until she had received from it a blessing. 
 She found her rest and comfort in a Christianity 
 which had its centre in no theory or dogma, no 
 ecclesiastical system, but in the person of Jesus. 
 For Him she had the most loyal love. He satisfied 
 her soul ; He interpreted life for her ; He gave her 
 the inspiration for her work ; and with this belief, 
 she went forth to live and to die, having the hope 
 and confidence of a larger life beyond. 
 
 She was a prophetess to her generation, singing
 
 PREFACE. vil 
 
 the songs of a newer faith, and breathing forth in 
 hymns and lyrics, and even homely ballads, her 
 belief in God and immortality. Her two books, 
 " As It Is in Heaven " and " The Unseen Friend," 
 written in the last years of her life, when she had 
 felt the presence of an invisible Power, and had 
 caught glimpses of the spiritual world through 
 the intimations of happiness given her in this life, 
 are messages to human souls, that come with au- 
 thority, and mark her as a strong spiritual force in 
 our American Christianity. She will be known, I 
 feel, not only as a woman with the most delicate 
 perceptions of the sweetness of truth, and an appre- 
 ciation of its poetry, but as one who could grasp 
 the eternal facts out of the infinite, and clothe 
 them with such beauty of imagery, and softness 
 of music, that other lives could receive from her 
 a blessing. 
 
 I must make public acknowledgment to those 
 who have willingly rendered me assistance, — to 
 Miss Lucy Larcom Spaulding (now Mrs. Clark), 
 who gave me the privilege of using the rich ma- 
 terial her aunt had left in her guardian sliip ; to 
 Mrs. James Guild, who furnished me with facts of 
 great interest ; to Mrs. I. W. Baker, the sister of 
 Miss Larcom, whose advice has proved most valu- 
 able ; to Miss Susan Hayes Ward, who put at my
 
 • • • 
 
 Vlil PREFACE. 
 
 disposal the material used in the Memorial Number 
 of " The Rushlight," the magazine of Wheaton 
 Seminary ; to Mr. S. T. Piekard, for permitting 
 me to use some of Mr. Whittier's letters ; to the 
 Rev. Arthur Brooks, D. D., who consented to my 
 using the letters of his brother, Bishop Brooks; 
 to Prof. George E. Woodberry, whose sympathy 
 and suggestions have been of the greatest service 
 to me ; and to all who have loaned the letters 
 that so clearly illustrate the richness of Miss 
 Larcom's personality. 
 
 DANIEL DULANY ADDISON. 
 Beverly, Mass., June 19, 1894.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEE PAOB 
 
 I. Eaklt Days. 1824-1846 1 
 
 II. In Illinois. 1846-1852 21 
 
 III. Life at Norton. 1853-1859 44 
 
 IV. Reflections of a Teacher .... 69 
 V. The Beginning of the War .... 83 
 
 VI. Intellectual Experiences .... 118 
 
 VII. Letters and Work. 1861-1868 . . . .148 
 
 Vni. Writings and Letters. 1868-1880 ... 172 
 
 IX. Religious Changes. 1881-1884 . . . .200 
 
 X. Undercurrents. 1884-1889 .... 222 
 
 XI. Membership in the Episcopal Church . . 242 
 
 XII. Last Years 257 
 
 Index 291
 
 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 EAELT DAYS. 
 
 1824-1846. 
 
 Lucy Larcom was born on March 5, 1824, in 
 the old seaside town of Beverly, Massachusetts. 
 She was next to the youngest in a family of seven 
 sisters and two brothers. Her father, Benjamin 
 Larcom, a retired shipmaster who became a shop- 
 keeper selling West India goods, was a man of 
 strong natural ability, and her mother, Lois Bar- 
 rett, " with bright blue eyes and soft dark curling 
 hair, which she kept pinned up under her white 
 lace cap," was known for her sweetness. The 
 Larcoms had lived for generations on the borders 
 of the sea. Mordecai Larcom, born 1629, ap- 
 peared in Ipswich in 1655, and soon after moved 
 to Beverly, where he obtained a grant of land. 
 His son, Cornelius Larcom, born 1658, purchased 
 a place on the coast, in what is known as Beverly 
 Farms. David Larcom was born 1701, and his 
 son, Jonathan, born 1742, was the grandfather of 
 Miss Larcom. The qualities of energy and self- 
 reliance that come from the cultivation of Essex 
 County soil and the winning of a livelihood as
 
 2 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 trader and sailor, were apparent in the branch of 
 the family that lived in Wallace Lane, — one of 
 the by-streets of the quaint village, that led in one 
 direction throngh the fields to Bass River, " run- 
 ning A\'ith its tidal water from inland hills," and in 
 the other across the main street to the harbor, with 
 its fishing schooners and glimpses of the sea. 
 
 Her sensitive nature quickly responded to the 
 free surroundings of her childhood. The open 
 fields with the wild flowers and granite ledges 
 covered with vines, and the sandy beaches of the 
 harbor, and the village streets with their quiet pic- 
 turesque life, formed her playground. The little 
 daily events happening around her were interest- 
 ing : the stage-coach rattling down Cabot Street ; 
 the arrival of a ship returning from a distant voy- 
 age ; the stately equipage driven from the doorway 
 of Colonel Thorndike's house ; the Sunday services 
 in the meeting-house ; the companionship of other 
 children, and the charm of her simple home life. 
 These experiences are graphically recorded in " A 
 New England Girlhood," where she testifies to her 
 love for her native town, " There is something in 
 the place where we were born that holds us always 
 by the heart-strings. A town that has a great 
 deal of country in it, one that is rich in beautiful 
 scenery and ancestral associations, is almost like a 
 living being, with a body and a soul. We speak 
 of such a town as of a mother, and think of our- 
 selves as her sons and daughters. So we felt 
 about our dear native town of Beverly."
 
 EAELY DAYS. 3 
 
 In her poems there are numerous references to 
 the town : — 
 
 " Steady we '11 scud by the Cape Ann shore, 
 Then back to the Beverly Bells once more. 
 
 The Beverly Bells 
 Ring to the tide as it ebbs and swells." 
 
 In another place she says : — 
 
 " The gleam of 
 Thacher's Isle, twin-beaconed, winking back 
 To twinkling sister-eyes of Baker's Isle." 
 
 Her childhood was a period which she always 
 looked back upon with fondness, for the deep im- 
 pressions made upon her mind never were obliter- 
 ated. The continued possession of these happy 
 remembrances as she incorporated them into her 
 womanhood, is shown by the way she entered into 
 the lives of other children, whether in compiling 
 a book of poems, like " Child Life," known where- 
 ever there are nurseries, or in writing her own 
 book, " Childhood Songs," or in some of her many 
 sketches in " Our Young Folks," " St. Nicholas," 
 or the " Youth's Companion." She knew by an 
 unerring instinct what children were thinking 
 about, and how to interest them. She always took 
 delight in the little rivulets in the fields, or the 
 brown thrush singing from the tree, or the pussy- 
 clover running wild, and eagerly watched for the 
 red-letter days of children, the anniversaries and 
 birthdays. She had happy memories of play in the 
 old roomy barn, and of the improvised swing hung 
 from the rafters. She recalled the fairy-tales and
 
 4 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 wonderful stories to which she listened with wide 
 open eyes ; the reflection of her face in the bur- 
 nished brass of the tongs ; and her child's night- 
 thoughts when she began to feel that there were 
 mysteries around her, and to remember that the 
 stars were shining when she was tucked in bed. 
 
 Lucy Larcom's book-learning began very early. 
 It seems almost incredible that she should have 
 been able to read at two and a half years of age, 
 but such is the general testimony of her family. 
 She used to sit by the side of her old Aunt 
 Stanley, and thread needles for her, listening to 
 the songs and stories that the old lady told ; and 
 Aunt Hannah, in the school held in her kitchen, 
 where she often let the children taste the good 
 things that were cooking, managed not only to 
 keep her out of mischief, by her " pudding-stick " 
 ferule, or by rapping her on the head with a 
 thimble, but taught her the " a, b, abs," and parts 
 of the Psalms and Epistles. 
 
 The strongest influence in her development was 
 that of her sister Emeline, who inspired her with 
 love for knowledge, and instilled in her the highest 
 ideals of girlhood. This sister supplied her, as she 
 grew older, with books, and guided her reading. 
 Referring to this, she once said : — 
 
 " I wish to give due credit to my earliest edu- 
 cators, — those time - stained, thumb - worn books, 
 that made me aware of living in a world of natural 
 grandeur, of lofty visions, of heroic achievements, 
 of human faithfuhiess, and sacrifice. I always fee]
 
 EARLY BAYS. 5 
 
 like entering a protest when I hear people say that 
 there was very little for children to read fifty years 
 ago. There was very little of the cake and con- 
 fectionery style of literatiu'e, which is so abundant 
 now ; but we had the genuine thing, — solid food, 
 in small quantities, to suit our capacity, — and I 
 think we were better off for not having too much 
 of the lighter sort. What we had ' stayed by.' " 
 
 The books that she read were " Pilgrim's Pro- 
 gress," " Paul and Virginia," " Gulliver's Travels," 
 Sir Walter Scott's novels ; and in poetry, Spenser, 
 Southey, Wordsworth, and Coleridge. She knew 
 these volumes almost by heart. 
 
 Lucy's first love for poetry was fostered by the 
 hymns she used to read in church, during sermon 
 time, when the minister from his lofty pulpit 
 entered upon a series of "finallys," which did not 
 seem to be meant for her. Her fondness for 
 hymns was so great that at one time she learned a 
 hundred. The rhythm of the musical accompani- 
 ment and the flow of the words taught her the 
 measured feet of verse before she ever heard of an 
 iambus or a choriambus. Finding that her own 
 thoughts naturally exj^ressed themselves in rhyme, 
 she used frequently to w^rite little verses, and stuff 
 them down the crack in the floor of the attic. The 
 first poem that she read to the family was long 
 remembered by them, as, wriggling with embarrass- 
 ment, she sat on a stool. Referring to her poetry 
 at this time, she says, " I wrote little verses, to be 
 sure, but that was nothing ; they just grew. They
 
 6 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 were tlie same as breathing or singing. I could 
 not help writing them. They seemed to fly into 
 my mind like birds going with a carol through the 
 air. 
 
 There is an incident worth repeating, that illus- 
 trates her sweetness and thoughtfulness of others. 
 When her father died, she tried to comfort her 
 mother : " 1 felt like preaching to her, but I was 
 too small a child to do that ; so I did the next best 
 thing I could think of, — I sang hymns, as if sing- 
 ing to myself, while I meant them for her." 
 
 These happy days in the country village came 
 to an end in the year 1835, when necessity forced 
 Mrs. Larconi, after the death of her husband, to 
 seek a home in the manufacturing community of 
 Lowell, where there were more opportunities for 
 the various members of her family to assist in the 
 general maintenance of the home. 
 
 In Lowell, there were corporation boarding- 
 houses for the operatives, requiring respectable 
 matrons as housekeepers, and positions in the mills 
 offered a means of livelihood to young girls. At- 
 tracted by these inducements, many New England 
 families left their homes, in the mountains of New 
 Hampshire and along the seacoast, and went to 
 Lowell. The class of the employees in the mills 
 was consequently different from the ordinary fac- 
 tory hand of to-day. Girls of education and refine- 
 ment, who had no idea of remaining in a mill all 
 their lives, worked in them for some years with 
 the object, often, of helping to send a brother to
 
 EARLY DAYS. 7 
 
 college or making money enough to continue their 
 education, or to aid dear ones who had been left 
 suddenly without support : — 
 
 " Not always to be here among' the looms, — 
 Scarcely a girl she knew expected that ; 
 Means to one end, their labor was, — to put 
 Gold nest-eggs in the bank, or to redeem 
 A mortgaged homestead, or to pay the way 
 Through classic years at some academy ; 
 More commonly to lay a dowry by 
 For f utm-e housekeeping." ^ 
 
 The intention of Mr. Francis Cabot Lowell and 
 Mr. Nathan Appleton, when they conceived the 
 idea of establishing the mills, was to provide condi- 
 tions of living for operatives, as different as possi- 
 ble from the Old World ideals of factory labor. 
 They wisely decided to regard the mental and re- 
 ligious education of the girls as of first importance, 
 and those who followed these plans aimed to secure 
 young women of intelligence from the surrounding 
 towns, and stimulate them to seek improvement in 
 their leisure hours. 
 
 Besides the free Grammar School there were in- 
 numerable night schools ; and most of the churches 
 provided, by means of " Social Circles," opportuni- 
 ties for improvement. So in Lowell there was a 
 wide-awake set of girls working for their daily 
 bread, with a true idea of the dignity of labor, and 
 with the determination to make the most of them- 
 selves. They reasoned thus, as Miss Larcom ex- 
 pressed it : " That the manufacture of cloth should, 
 
 1 An Idyl of Work, p. 34.
 
 8 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 as a branch of feminine industry, ever have suf- 
 fered a shadow of discredit, will doubtless appear 
 to future generations a most ridiculous barbarism. 
 To prepare the clothing of the world seems to have 
 been regarded as womanly work in all ages. The 
 spindle and the distaff, the picturesque accompani- 
 ments of many an ancient legend — of Penelope, of 
 Lucretia, of the Fatal Sisters themselves — have, to 
 be sure, changed somewhat in their modern adapta- 
 tion to the machinery which robes the human mil- 
 lions ; but they are, in effect, the same instruments, 
 used to supply the same need, at whatever period 
 of the world's history." 
 
 A few facts will show the character of these 
 girls. One of the ministers was asked how many 
 teachers he thought he could furnish from among 
 the working-girls. He replied, " About five hun- 
 dred." A lecturer in the Lowell Lyceum stated 
 that four fifths of his audience were factory girls, 
 that when he entered the hall most of the girls 
 were reading from books, and when he began his 
 lecture every one seemed to be taking notes. 
 Charles Dickens, after his visit to Lowell in 1842, 
 wrote : " I solemnly declare that from all the crowd 
 I saw in the different factories, I cannot recall one 
 face that gave me a painful impression ; not one 
 young girl whom, assuming it to be a matter of ne- 
 cessity that she should gain her daily bread by the 
 labor of her hands, I would have removed if I had 
 the power." 
 
 Mrs. Larcom kept a boarding-house for the oper-
 
 EARLY DAYS. 9 
 
 atives, and Lucy was thrown in close association 
 with these strong young women. She had access 
 to the little accumulation of books that one of them 
 had made, — Maria Edgeworth's " Helen," Thomas 
 \ Kempis, Bunyan's " Holy War," Locke " On 
 the Understanding," and " Paradise Lost." This 
 formed good reading for a girl of ten. 
 
 Lucy's sister Emeline started in the boarding- 
 house two or three little fortnightly papers, to 
 which the girls contributed. Each ran a troubled 
 existence of a few months, and then gave place to 
 its successor, bearing a new name. " The Casket," 
 for a time, held their jewels of thought ; then " The 
 Bouquet " gathered their full-blown ideas into a 
 more pretentious collection. The most permanent 
 of these literary jjroductions was one that started 
 with the intention of being very profound, — it was 
 called " The Diving Bell." The significance of the 
 name was carefully set forth in the first number : — 
 
 " Our Diving Bell shall deep descend, 
 And bring from the immortal mind 
 Thoughts that to improve us tend. 
 Of each variety and kind." 
 
 Lucy soon became a poetical contributor ; and when 
 the paper was read, and the guessing as to the 
 author of each piece began — for they were anony- 
 mous — the other girls were soon able to tell her 
 work by its music and thought. Among the yellow 
 and worm-eaten pages of the once popular " Diving 
 Bell," we find the following specimen of her earli- 
 est poetry : —
 
 10 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 " I sit at my window and gaze 
 At the scenery lovely around, 
 On the water, the grass, and the trees, 
 
 And I hear the brook's murmuring sound. 
 
 " The bird warbles forth his soft lays. 
 
 And I smell the sweet fragrance of flowers, 
 I hear the low hum of the bees. 
 As they busily pass the long hours. 
 
 " These pleasures were given to man 
 To bring him more near to his God, 
 Then let me praise God all I can. 
 Until I am laid 'neath the sod." 
 
 From the interest excited by these little papers, 
 the desire of the girls became strong for more 
 dignified literary expression ; and by the advice 
 and assistance of the Rev. Abel C. Thomas, of the 
 Universalist Clmrch, the " Lowell Offering " was 
 started in October, 1840, and the " Operative's 
 Magazine " originated in the Literary Society of 
 the First Congregational Church. These two mag- 
 azines were united, in 1842, in the " Lowell Offer- 
 ing." The editors of the " Offering," Miss Hariett 
 Farley and Miss Hariot Curtiss, factory girls, were 
 women of superior culture and versatility, and made 
 the magazine a unique experiment in our litera- 
 ture. In its pages were clever sketches of home 
 life, humorous and pathetic tales, charming fairy 
 stories, and poems. Its contributors, like the ed- 
 itors, were mill-girls. It was successful for five 
 years, at one time having a subscription list as high 
 as four thousand, which the girls tried to increase by 
 traveling for it, as agents. This periodical attracted
 
 EARLY DAYS. 11 
 
 wide attention by reason of its unusual origin. Se- 
 lections were made from it, and published in Lon- 
 don, in 1849, called, " Mind Among the Spindles ; " 
 and a gentleman attending the literary lectures, in 
 Paris, of Philarete Chasles, was surprised to hear 
 one in which the significance and merit of the 
 " Lowell Offering " was the sole theme. Our young 
 author contributed to the " Offering," over the sig- 
 natures " Rotha," or " L. L.," a number of poems 
 and short prose articles, proving herself to be of 
 sufficient ability to stand as a typical Lowell fac- 
 tory girl. 
 
 The principle of the interest of manufacturers 
 in the lives of their operatives was illustrated in 
 Lowell, though it was not carried out always as 
 intelligently as it should have been. Children 
 were allowed to work too young. Lucy began to 
 change the bobbins on the spinning frames at eleven 
 years of age, and the hours of work were sometimes 
 from five in the morning to seven at night. But 
 the day passed pleasantly for her, the bobbins hav- 
 ing to be changed only every three quarters of an 
 hour; and the interval between these periods of 
 work was occupied by conversation with the girls 
 in the same room, or by sitting in the window over- 
 lookinof the river. On the sides of one of these 
 windows she had pasted newspaper clippings, con- 
 taining favorite poems, wliich she committed to 
 memory when she sat in this " poet's corner." 
 
 During these years of mill-work she formed some 
 of the ruling ideas of her life, those that we can
 
 12 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 see influencing her later thouglits, in her poetry 
 and prose, and, best of all, her living. Her sym- 
 }>athy for honest Industry, without any regard for 
 its fictitious position in so-called "society," was 
 developed by her acquaintance with those earnest 
 girls who were struggling for their own support 
 and education. Her capacity for friendship was 
 continually tested ; she opened her nature to the 
 influence of the other lives around her. 
 
 The questions in relation to human life and its 
 meaning became part of her deepest interests. In 
 private conversations with her companions. In the 
 meetings at the churches, and In her own medita- 
 tions, these thoughts struggled for a hearing : — 
 
 " Oh, what questionings 
 Of fate, and freedom, and how evil came. 
 And what death is, and what the life to come, — 
 Passed to and fro among these girls ! " -^ 
 
 The answers she gave were the truest. Her thought 
 instinctively turned to the Invisible Power of the 
 Universe, not solely as an explanation of things as 
 they exist, or as a philosophical postulate, but as a 
 Sj)irit whose presence could be felt in nature. In 
 persons, and in her own heart. In other words, a 
 love for God as a Being of Love began to take 
 possession of her ; it seized upon her at times like 
 the rushing inspiration of the prophets ; her trust 
 was what Is spoken of in theology as an experi- 
 mental knowledge. Her early training by Puritan 
 methods in the thought of a Sovereign Lord, deeply 
 
 1 An Idyl of Work, p. 69.
 
 EARLY DAYS. 13 
 
 affected her, yet she seems to have rediscovered 
 God for herself, in the beauty that her poet's eye 
 revealed to her — beauties of river and sea and 
 sky, of flowers rejoicing in their color and per- 
 fume, and of human sympathies. Welling up in 
 her own soul, she felt the waters troubled by the 
 angel's touch, and was confident of God. 
 
 With this faith as a guide, the answers to other 
 questions became plain. Life itself was a gift 
 which must be used in His service ; no evil thought 
 or purpose should be allowed to enter and interfere 
 with the soul's growth ; duties were the natural 
 outlets of the soul ; through them the soul found 
 its happiness. When she thought of death, there 
 was only one logical way of looking at it : as a 
 transition into a fidler life, where the immortal 
 spirits of men could draw nearer to each other and 
 to God. She seems never, from the very first, to 
 have had any doubts as to what the end of life 
 meant. There was always the portal ready to open 
 into the richer Kingdom of Heaven. 
 
 The churches in Lowell stimulated her religious 
 thought. At thirteen years of age, she stood up 
 before her beloved minister, Dr. Amos Blanchard, 
 and professed her belief in the Christian religion, 
 and for many years found refreshment in the Sun- 
 day services. But as she grew older, she found 
 many of the doctrines of Calvinistic Orthodoxy dif- 
 ficidt for her to accept, and she regretted the step 
 she had taken. The worship was not always help- 
 ful to her, especially the long prayer : —
 
 14 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 " That long prayer 
 Was like a toilsome journey round the world, 
 By Cathay and the Mountains of the Moon, 
 To come at our own door-stone, where He stood 
 Waiting to speak to us, the Father dear, 
 Who is not far from any one of us." ^ 
 
 She admired the picturesque Episcopal church of 
 St. Ann's, with its vine-wreathed stone walls, " an 
 oasis amid the city's dust." The Church for which 
 this venerable edifice stood was to be her fhial re- 
 ligious home, and in its stately services and sacred 
 rites she was to find the spiritual nourishment of 
 her later years. 
 
 She took an interest in the movements of poli- 
 tics, especially the question of slavery ; she was an 
 Abolitionist with the strongest feelings, from the 
 first. She had some scruples about working on the 
 cotton which was produced by slave labor : — 
 
 " When I have thought what soil the cotton plant 
 We weave is rooted in, what waters it — 
 The blood of souls in bondage — I have felt 
 That I was sinning against light, to stay 
 And turn the accursed fibre into cloth 
 For human wearing. I have hailed one name — 
 You know it — ' Garrison ' — as a soul might hail 
 His soul's deliverer." ' 
 
 Whenever a petition for the abolition of slavery 
 was circulated, to be sent to Congress, it was 
 always sure to have the name of Lucy Larcom 
 upon it. The poetry of Mr. Whittier had aroused 
 her spirit, and though she does not seem to have 
 written any of her stirring anti-slavery verses until 
 1 An Idyl of Work, p. 74. ^ n^i^^ p. iqq^
 
 EABLY DAYS. 15 
 
 years later, she was nursing the spark that during 
 the Civil War blew into a flame. 
 
 It was in 1843, while in Lowell, that she first 
 met Mr. Whittier, who was editing the " Middle- 
 sex Standard." Being present at one of the meet- 
 ings of the " Improvement Circle," he heard her 
 read one of her poems, " Sabbath Bells : " — 
 
 " List ! a faint, a far-off chime ! 
 'T is the knell of holy time, 
 Chiming from the city's spires, 
 From the hamlet's altar fires, I 
 Waking woods and lonely dells, 
 Pleasant are the Sabbath bells." 
 
 Tills introduction began one of her most beautiful 
 friendships ; it lasted for half a century. She 
 learned to know and love the poet's sweet, noble 
 sister, Elizabeth, and Lucy was treated by her like 
 a sister. There was something in Miss Larcom's 
 nature not unlike Mr. Whittier's, — the same love 
 for the unobserved beauties of country life, the 
 same energy and fire, the same respect for the 
 honest and sturdy elements in New England life, 
 the same affection for the sea and mountains, and 
 a similar deep religious sense of the nearness of 
 God. 
 
 Having worked five years in the spinning-room, 
 she was transferred at her own request to the posi- 
 tion of book-keeper, in the cloth-room of the Law- 
 rence Mills. Here, having more time to herself, 
 she devoted to study the minutes not required by 
 her work, reading extracts from the best books,
 
 16 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 and writing many of the poems thai; appeared in 
 the " Ofeering." 
 
 It was her habit to carry a sort of prose sketch- 
 book, not unlike an artist's, in which she would jot 
 down in words the exact impression made upon her 
 by a scene or a natural object, using both as models 
 from which to draw pictures in words. In this 
 way she would describe, for instance, an autumn 
 leaf, accurately giving its shape, color, number of 
 ribs and veins, ending with a reflection on the decay 
 of beauty. In turning over the leaves of this 
 sketch-book, one finds descriptions of the gnarled 
 tree with its bare branches thrusting themselves 
 forth in spiteful crookedness; the butterfly lying 
 helpless in the dust with its green robes sprinkled 
 with ashes ; the wind in the pines singing a melan- 
 choly tune in the summer sunlight ; and other sub- 
 jects of equal beauty. As an illustration of these 
 prose-poems, the suggestion for which she derived 
 from Jean Paul Richter, the following may be of 
 interest : it is called, " Flowers beneath Dead 
 Leaves : " — 
 
 " Two friends were walking together beside a 
 picturesque mill-stream. While they walked they 
 talked of mortal life, its meaning and its end ; and, 
 as is almost inevitable with such themes, the cur- 
 rent of their thoughts gradually lost its cheerful 
 flow. 
 
 "'This is a miserable world,' said one. 'The 
 black shroud of sorrow overhangs everything here.' 
 
 " ' Not so,' rej)lied the other. ' Sorrow is not a
 
 EABLY DAYS. 17 
 
 shroud ; it is only the covering Hope wraps about 
 her when she sleeps.' 
 
 " Just then they entered an oak grove. It was 
 early spring, and the trees were bare ; but the 
 last year's leaves lay thick as snowdrifts upon the 
 ground. 
 
 " ' The liverwort grows here, I think, — one of our 
 earliest flowers,' said the last speaker. ' There, 
 push away the leaves, and you will see it. How 
 beautiful, with its delicate shades of pink, and pur- 
 ple and green, lying against the bare roots of the 
 oak tree ! But look deeper, or you will not find 
 the flowers : they are under the dead leaves.' 
 
 " ' Now I have learned a lesson which I shall 
 not forget,' said her friend. ' This seems to me to 
 be a bad world ; and there is no denying that there 
 are bad things in it. To a sweeping glance it 
 will sometimes seem barren and desolate ; but not 
 one buried germ of life and beauty is lost to the 
 All-Seeing Eye. Having the weakness of human 
 vision, I must believe where I cannot see. Hence- 
 forth, when I am tempted to despair on account 
 of evil, I will say to myself. Look deeper ; look 
 under the dead leaves, and you will find flowers.' " 
 
 Lucy Larcom almost imperceptibly slipped into 
 womanhood during these Lowell years. From be- 
 ing an eager and precocious child, she became an 
 intelligent and thoughtful woman. The one char- 
 acteristic which seemed, most fully defined was her 
 tendency to express her thoughts in verse and prose. 
 As is the case with young authors, her early verses
 
 18 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 were artificial, the sentiments were often borrowed, 
 and the emotions were not always genuine. It is 
 not natural to find a healthy young girl writing 
 on such themes as "Earthly joys are fleeting," 
 " Trust not the world, 't will cheat thee." " The 
 murderer's request " was — 
 
 " Bury me not where the hreezes are sighing 
 O'er those whom I loved in my innocent days." 
 
 But when she wrote out of her own experience, 
 and recorded impressions she had felt, there was a 
 touch of i-eality in her work that gave some prophecy 
 of her future excellence. She could write under- 
 standingiy about the boisterous March winds, or 
 " school days," — 
 
 " When I read old Peter Parley, 
 
 Like a bookworm, through and through, 
 Vainly shunned I Lindley Murray, 
 
 And dull Colburn's ' Two and Two.' " 
 
 One cannot find any evidence that she made a 
 study of verse-making, not even possessing " Walk- 
 er's Rhyming Dictionary." Her powers were 
 cultivated mainly by reading the poetry of others 
 and unconsciously catching their spirit and metre. 
 Her ear for music helped her more than her know- 
 ledge of tetrameters or hexameters. 
 
 The most important results of these years were 
 the development of her self-reliance and sweetness, 
 the stirring up of her ambitions to win an education, 
 and the dawnings of her spiritual life. She was 
 laying up stores of impressions and memories, also, 
 that were to be permanently preserved in her more
 
 EABLY DAYS. 19 
 
 finished jjoems of later years. The imagery of her 
 maturer verse recalls her early days, when in the 
 freedom of childhood she roamed the fields and 
 the woods, and lived on the banks of the Merriraac. 
 We see her yonth again through her reminiscences 
 of the barberry cluster sweetened by the frost ; the 
 evening primrose ; roses wet with briny spray ; the 
 woodbine clambering up the cliff ; heaps of clover 
 hay ; breezes laden with some rare wood scent ; 
 the varied intonations of the wind ; hieroglyphic 
 lichens on the rocks ; the mower whistling from the 
 land ; the white feet of the children pattering on 
 the sand ; the one aged tree on the mountain-top, 
 wrestling with the storm wind ; the candles lighted 
 at sunset in the gambrel-roof ed houses ; the light- 
 ning glaring in the face of the drowning sailor ; 
 the tragedy of unconscious widowhood ; the mill- 
 wheel, the hidden power of the mill, with its great 
 dripping spokes ; and the mystery of meeting and 
 blending horizons. 
 
 In the spring of 1846 the scene of Lucy Larcom's 
 life was changed, when her sister Emeline mar- 
 ried, and went to seek a home in the West, for she 
 shared with the new family their pioneer life in 
 Illinois. A few days before they started on their 
 journey, she wrote some lines of farewell in her 
 scribbling-book, which show that she was begin- 
 ning to use real experiences for the subject of her 
 verses. 
 
 " Farewell to thee, New England ! 
 Thou mother, whose kind arm
 
 20 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 Hath e'er been circled round me, 
 
 The stern and yet the warm. 
 Farewell ! thou little village, 
 
 My birthplace and my home, 
 Along whose rocky border 
 
 The morning surges come. 
 Thy name shall memory echo, 
 
 As exiled shell its wave. 
 Art thou my home no longer ? 
 
 Still keep for me a grave."
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 IN ILLINOIS. 
 
 1846-1852. 
 
 A JOURNEY from Massachusetts to Illinois, in 
 184G, was long, and filled with inconveniences. A 
 little time-worn diary, written in pencil, kept by 
 Lucy Larcom on the journey, is interesting for 
 itself, and preserves the record of the difficulties 
 that beset early travelers to the West. 
 
 Monday, April 13, 1846. Returned to Boston 
 in the morning, and now, in the afternoon, we have 
 really started. Passing through Massachusetts and 
 Connecticut, we encountered a snowstorm, some- 
 thing quite unexpected at this season ! Came on 
 board the steamboat " Worcester," in darkness. 
 And here we are, three of us, squeezed into the 
 queerest little cubby-hole of a state-room that could 
 be thought of. We all sat down on the floor and 
 laughed till we cried, to see ourselves in such close 
 companionship ! We had a dispute, just for the 
 fun of it, as to who should occupy the highest 
 shelf. It was out of the question to put E. and the 
 baby up there, and for myself, I painted the catas- 
 trophe which would occur, should I come down
 
 22 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 with my full weight vipon the rest, in such glowing 
 colors, that they were willing to consign me to the 
 second shelf ; and here I lie while the rest are 
 asleep (if they can sleep on their first steamboat 
 trip) trying to write of iny wonderful experiences 
 as a traveler. 
 
 Tuesday. Alas ! Must I write it ? The boast of 
 our house must cease. When it has been said with 
 so much pride that a Larcom was never seasick ! 
 — I have proved the contrary. I only thought to 
 eat a bit of " 'lasses gingerbread," on occasion of 
 my departure from Yankee Land, and while I lay 
 to-day in my berth, I was inwardly admonished that 
 the angry Neptune was not pleased with my feast- 
 ing, and I was obliged to yield up the precious 
 morsel as a libation to him. Small sleep had I 
 this night. 
 
 In the morning, S. and I rose long before day- 
 light, and went out to peep at the sea by moon- 
 light. It was strange and new to see the path of 
 the great creature in the waters. After daylight 
 most of the passengers came on deck. It was de- 
 lightful sailing into New York by sunrise. 
 
 Passing through Hellgate, I was reminded of 
 the worthy Dutch who went this way long ago, as 
 Dick Knickerbocker records. Passed Blackwell's 
 Island, — saw prisoners at work, — looked like 
 pigs. Also passed the fort on Frog's Neck ; small 
 beauty in the great smoky city for me ; an hour's 
 stay and a breakfast at the hotel were enough. 
 Took the cars across New Jersey. Don't like the
 
 IN ILLINOIS. 23 
 
 appearance of this State at all. Reached Philadel- 
 phia about noon. Went immediately aboard the 
 " Ohio " — a beautiful boat, and a lovely afternoon 
 it was when we sailed down the Delaware. The 
 city looked so pleasant with the sun shining on it, 
 and the green waving trees about it, while the waves 
 looked so smooth in their white fringes, that I could 
 have jumped overboard for joy ! Never shall I for- 
 get that afternoon. At evening, took the cars to 
 — somewhere, on the Chesapeake Bay, and thence 
 to Baltimore on another boat. Saw hedges, for the 
 first time, in Maryland. Had an unpleasant sail in 
 an unpleasant boat. Sister and S. wretchedly sea- 
 sick ; so was nearly everybody, but I redeemed my 
 fame, dancing attendance from baby to the sick 
 ones continually. The wind blew, the boat rocked, 
 and the tide was against us. One poor little Irish 
 woman, who was going with her baby to meet her 
 husband, was terribly frightened. I tried to com- 
 fort her, but she said " she would pull eveiy curl 
 out of her old man's head, for sending for her and 
 the baby." All the while, a queer-looking German 
 couple were on deck ; the man appeared as if intox- 
 icated, first scolding and then kissing ! The wind 
 was cold, but the man shook his fists when one 
 young lady asked the woman to come inside and 
 get warm. She would cry when he scolded her, 
 and "make up" again as soon as he was disposed 
 to. Then they would promenade together very lov- 
 ingly and very awkwardly. 
 
 Came into Baltimore between ten and eleven.
 
 24 , LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 S. had her pocket picked on the way ! Stopped 
 at the National Hotel for the night, and left B. 
 again in the morning, in the cars. Glad enough, 
 too, for I hate cities, and B. worst of all. Rode 
 through Maryland. A very delightful state, but 
 slavery spoils it. Saw the first log-cabin ; it was 
 quite decent-looking, in comparison with the idea I 
 had formed of it. Stopped at a station where there 
 were three little negroes sitting on a bench, sunning 
 themselves, and combing each other's wool mean- 
 while. They looked the picture of ignorance and 
 happiness. 
 
 Were all day Thursday riding through the State 
 of Maryland. Saw flowers and trees in blossom : 
 delightful country, quite hilly, and well watered. 
 Followed the course of the Potomac a long way, 
 and at noon stopped at Harper's Ferry, a wild- 
 looking place, though I think not so romantic as 
 a place we passed just before it, where tlie waters 
 curve in gentle flow from between two bold hills. 
 Now saw the mountains around Cumberland. At 
 Cumberland, were squeezed into a stage, to cross 
 the Alleghenies. Oh, what misery did we not en- 
 dure that night ! Nine, and a baby, in the little 
 stage ! I tried to reconcile myself to my fate, but 
 was so cross if anybody spoke to me ! When we 
 got out of the stage in the morning I felt more like 
 a snake crawling from a heap of rocks than any- 
 thing else. We stretched ourselves, and took break- 
 fast, such as we could get, at a poor-looking tavern. 
 Then into the stage again, and over the mountains
 
 77V ILLINOIS. 25 
 
 to Brownsville ; never imagined mountains could 
 be so high, when we were riding on mountains all 
 the time. Reached Brownsville about twelve, — a 
 dingy place down among the hills. Took a little 
 walk here. Embarked for Pittsburgh ; was glad 
 enough to stow myself away into a berth and rest. 
 Did n't trouble the Monongahela with a glance after 
 the boat started, for I was " used up." Found our- 
 selves at Pittsburgh in the morning, a dirty city 
 indeed. Everything black and smoky. Should 
 think the sun would refuse to shine upon it. 
 
 Friday noon. Here we take another boat — the 
 "Clipper" — the prettiest one I have seen yet. 
 Splendidly furnished, neat, comfortable berths, and 
 all we could ask for. The Ohio is a beautiful 
 stream. I sit in my state-room with the door open, 
 " taking notes." I am on the Ohio side ; the banks 
 are steep, — now and then we pass a little town. 
 We have stopped at one, now ; men and boys are 
 lookinq; down on us from a sand-bank far above our 
 heads. Why the people chose a sand-bank, when 
 they might have had a delightful situation almost 
 anywhere, I wonder much ! Oh, dear ! nothing 
 looks like home ! but I must not think of that, now. 
 
 Saturday noon. We are passing through a de- 
 lightful country. Peach-trees along the banks of 
 the river, in full bloom, reflected in the water 
 by sunrise, and surrounded by newly-leaved trees 
 of every shade of green, — they were beautiful 
 indeed. Have been perfectly charmed with the va- 
 ried prospect. Hills stretching down to the margin
 
 26 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 of the river, covered with trees, and sunny little 
 cottages nestled at their base, surrounded with 
 every sort of fruit-tree, — old trees hanging over 
 the river, their topmost boughs crowned with the 
 dark green mistletoe. Think I should like to live 
 here a little while. Sat on the deck this forenoon, 
 and sang " Sweet Home," and " I would not live 
 alway," with Mr. C. and S. Thunder-storm this 
 afternoon ; went on deck after tea to see the sun- 
 set — beautiful ! Water still, and reflecting gold 
 from motionless clouds. Went out again at dusk, 
 and heard the frogs singing. It seemed a little 
 like Saturday evening at home ; but no ! Passed 
 North Bend before sunset. Beautiful place : lai-ge 
 house, standing back from the road, half hid by 
 trees ; a small green hill near the house covered 
 with young trees ; and a fine orchard in bloom on 
 another hill, near by. The river bends on the 
 Ohio side. 
 
 21st. Stopped at St. Louis, about ten o'clock. 
 Lay here till nearly dark, waiting for canal to be 
 mended. Oppressively hot ; could not sit still nor 
 sleep. Going through the canal very slowly. 
 
 22d. Passed through the locks in the night. 
 Morning, — found Illinois on the right. Dog- 
 wort looked sweet among the light green foliage. 
 Stopped at Evansville in the afternoon, and took 
 in a freight of mosquitoes. Cabin fuU. Retired 
 early, to get out of their way. 
 
 23d. Played chess, forenoon. Came to the 
 north of the bend about ten. Went on deck to see
 
 IN ILLINOIS. 27 
 
 the meeting o£ the waters. Grand sight. Cairo, 
 small town on the point, has been overflowed. So 
 near my new home ; begin to be homesick. 
 
 The new home was destined to be a log-cabin on 
 Looking-Glass Prairie, St. Clair County, Illinois, 
 with the broad rolling country all around, and a 
 few houses in sight. This settlement was desig- 
 nated " Frogdom " by some o£ the residents. 
 
 The little family had to put up with great in- 
 conveniences, the house not even being plastered, 
 and the furniture being of the most primitive kind. 
 Soon after their arrival, they were all ill with 
 malarial fever, commonly called " agey," but their 
 spirits never flagged. Lucy somewhere speaks of 
 herself as having a cheerful disposition ; it helped 
 her, at this time, to deal with the discomforts of the 
 novel surroundings. Her sister refers to her, in a 
 letter to Beverly, as " our merry young sister Lucy." 
 
 Some of the neighbors were not as comfortable 
 as these new farmers. One of them, living not 
 very far off, had for a home a hastily constructed 
 shanty, with a bunk for a bed, and innumerable 
 rat-holes to let the smoke out when he had a fire. 
 Others were " right smart " folk from Pennsylva- 
 nia. Her main object, however, was not to be a 
 farmer, but to become a district-school teacher. 
 She soon secured a position ; and began the itin- 
 erant life of a teacher, spending a few months in 
 many different places. She received her salary 
 every three months. Once, when there was a little
 
 28 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 delay in tlie payment, she requested it. The forty 
 dollars were paid with the remark that " it was a 
 powerful lot of money for only three months' 
 teaching." 
 
 The rough boys and untrained girls called forth 
 all her patience, and the need of holding their 
 attention forced her to adopt a straightforward 
 method of expressing herself. Sometimes her ex- 
 periences were ludicrous. One day, having to 
 discipline a mischievous urchin, she put him on a 
 stool near the fireplace, and then went on with the 
 lessons, not noticing him very much. Looking to 
 see what he was doing, she was surprised at his 
 disappearance from the room. The question was, 
 " Where has he gone ? " It was answered by one 
 of the scholars, " He 's gone up the cliimney." He 
 had indeed crawled up the wide open fireplace, 
 and, having thus escaped, was dancing a jig in 
 front of the school-house. 
 
 Miss Larcom taught in many different places — 
 Waterloo, Lebanon, Sugar Creek, Woodburn — 
 and generally the rate of payment was fourteen 
 dollars a month. Board and lodging cost her one 
 dollar and twenty-five cents a week. She did her 
 own washing and ironing. The frequent change 
 of schools made her form attaclmients for the chil- 
 di'en that had to be quickly broken. Speaking of 
 a farewell at one school, she said, " The children 
 cried bitterly when I dismissed them, whether for 
 joy or sorrow it is n't for me to say." 
 
 Her letters to Beverly were brimful of fun ;
 
 IN ILLINOIS. 29 
 
 they give, in an easy style, a vivid account of the 
 hardships of these log-cabin days. The two fol- 
 lowing letters were written to her sisters, Abby and 
 Lydia. 
 
 TO MRS. ABBY O. HASKELL. 
 
 Looking-Glass Prairie, May 19, 1846. 
 
 Dear Sister Abby, — I think it is your turn to 
 have a letter now, so I 've just snuffed the candle, 
 and got all my utensils about me, and am going to 
 see how quickly I can write a good long one. 
 
 Well, for my convenience, I beg that you will 
 borrow the wings of a dove, and come and sit down 
 here by me. There, — don't you see what a nice 
 little room we are in ? To be sure, one side of it 
 has not got any side to it, because the man could n't 
 afford to lath and plaster it, but that patch curtain 
 that Emeline has hung up makes it snug enough 
 for summer time, and reminds us of the days of 
 ancient tapestried halls, and all tliat. That door, 
 where the curtain is, goes into the entry ; and there, 
 right opposite, is another one that goes into the 
 parlor, but I shall not go in there with you, because 
 there are n't any chairs in there ; you might sit on 
 Emeline's blue trunk, or Sarah's green one, though ; 
 but I 'm afraid you 'd go behind the sheet in the 
 corner, and steal some of Emeline's milk that she 's 
 saving to make butter of ; and then, just as likely as 
 not, you 'd want to know why that square piece of 
 board was put on the bottom of the window, with 
 the pitchfork stuck into it to keep it from falling ;
 
 80 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 of course, we should n't like to tell you that there 's 
 a square of glass out, and I suppose you don't 
 know about that great tom-cat's coming in, two 
 nights, after we had all gone to bed, and making 
 that awful caterwauling. So you had better stay 
 here in the kitchen, and I '11 show you all the 
 things ; it won't take long. That door at the top 
 of three steps leads upstairs ; the little low one close 
 to it is the closet door, — you need n't go prying in 
 there, to see what we 've got to eat, for you '11 cer- 
 tainly bump your head if you do ; pass by the par- 
 lor door and the curtain, and look out of that win- 
 dow on the front side of the house ; if it was not so 
 dark, you might see the beautiful flower-beds that 
 Sarah has made, — a big diamond in the centre, 
 with four triangles to match it. As true as I live, 
 she has been making her initials right in the centre 
 of the diamond ! There 's a great S, and an M, but 
 where 's the H ? Oh ! you don't know how that 
 tlog came in and scratched it all up, and laid down 
 there to sun himself, the other day. We tell her 
 there 's a sign to it, — losing her maiden name so 
 soon. She declares she won't have it altered by a 
 puppy, though. These two windows look (through 
 the fence) over to our next neighbor's ; that 's our 
 new cooking-stove between them ; is n't it a cun- 
 ning one ? the funnel goes up clear through Eme- 
 line's bedroom, till it gets to "outdoors." We 
 keep our chimney in the parlor. Then that door 
 on the other side looks away across the prairie, 
 three or four miles ; and that brings us to where 
 we started from.
 
 IN ILLINOIS. 31 
 
 As to furniture, this is the table, where I am 
 writinir : it is a stained one, without leaves, large 
 enough for six to eat from, and it cost just two 
 dollars and a quarter. There are a half dozen 
 chairs, black, with yellow figures, and this is the 
 rocking-chair, where we get baby to sleep. That 
 is E.'s rag mat before the stove, and George fixed 
 that shelf for the water-pail in the corner. The 
 coffee-mill is close to it, and that 's all. Now don't 
 you call us rich ? I 'm sure we feel grand enough. 
 Now, if you would only just come and make us 
 a visit in earnest, Emeline would make you some 
 nice corn-meal fritters, and you should have some 
 cream and sugar on them ; and I would make you 
 some nice doughnuts, for I 've learned so much ; 
 and you should have milk or coffee, just as you 
 pleased ; it is genteel to drink coffee for breakfast, 
 dinner, and supper, here. Then, if you did n't feel 
 satisfied, we should say that it was because you 
 had n't lived on johnny-cakes and milk a week, as 
 we did. 
 
 I have got to begin to be very dignified, for I 
 am going to begin to keep school next Monday, in 
 a little log-cabin, all alone. One of the " com- 
 mittee men " took me to Lebanon, last Saturday, 
 in his prairie wagon, to be examined. You 've no 
 idea how frightened I was, but I answered all their 
 questions, and did n't make any more mistakes than 
 they did. They told me I made handsome figures, 
 wrote a good hand, and spoke correctly, so I begin 
 to feel as if I knew most as much as other folks.
 
 32 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 Emeline does not gain any flesh, although she 
 has grown very handsome since she came to the 
 land of " hog and hominy." Your humble servant 
 is as fat as a pig, as usual, though she has not 
 tasted any of the j)orkers since her emigration, for 
 the same reason that a certain gentleman woidd not 
 eat any of Aunt Betsey's cucumbers, — " not fit to 
 eat." That 's my opinion, and if you had seen such 
 specimens of the living animal as I have, since I left 
 home, you 'd say so, too. Lucy. 
 
 TO MRS. I. W. BAKEK. 
 
 Looking-Glass Prairie, June 9, 1846. 
 Dear Sistee, — Here I am, just got home from 
 school ; all at once a notion takes me that I want 
 to write to you, and I 'm doing it. I 'm sitting in 
 our parlor, or at least, what we call our parlor, be- 
 cause the cooking-stove is not in it, and because 
 Emeline has laid her pretty rag mat before the 
 hearth, and because the sofa is in here. There! 
 you did n't think we 'd get a sofa out here, did 
 you ? Well, to be sure, it is n't exactly like your 
 sofa, because it is n't stuffed, nor covered, nor has 
 it any back, only the side of the house ; nor any 
 legs, only red ones, made of brick ; dear me ! I 'm 
 afraid you '11 " find out," after all, — but it cer- 
 tainly did come all the way from St. Louis, in the 
 wagon with the other furniture. We keep our 
 " cheers " in the kitchen, and we find that Becky 
 Wallis's definition of them, /. c, " to sit on," don't 
 tell the whole story now.
 
 IN ILLINOIS. 33 
 
 But don't you want to hear how we like it, out 
 here, in this great country? Oh, happy as clams ! 
 and we have n't been homesick, either, only once 
 in a while, when it seemed so queer getting " nat- 
 uralized," that we couldn't help "keepin' up a 
 terrible thinkin'." By the way, we were all sick 
 last week, — no, not all ; Emeline and the baby 
 were not. Georoe and Sarah and I all had the doc- 
 tor at once. I was taken first, and had the most 
 violent attack, and got well soonest. Our com- 
 plaint was remittent fever, wliich is only another 
 name for chills and fever, I suspect. I felt 
 ashamed to get " the chills " so soon after coming 
 here, and I believe the doctor was kind enough to 
 call it something else. I did have one regular 
 " chill," though ; the blood settled under my nails, 
 and though I didn't shake, I shivered "like I 
 had the agey." That 's our Western phraseology. 
 Blue pills and quinine I thought would be the 
 death of me ; but I believe they cured me after all. 
 I had to leave school for a week, but yesterday I 
 commenced again. 
 
 My school ! Oh, the times I do have there with 
 the young Suckers I I have to walk rather more 
 than a mile to it, and it is in just the most literal 
 specimen of a log-cabin that you can form any idea 
 of. 'T is built of unhewn logs, laid " criss-cross," 
 as we used to say down in the lane ; the chinks 
 filled up with mud, except those which are not 
 filled up " at all, at all," and the chimney is stuck 
 on behind the house. The Hoor lies as easy as it
 
 34 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 can, on the ground, and the benches are, some of 
 them (will you believe it ?), very much like our 
 sofa. They never had a school in this distiict be- 
 fore, and my " ideas " are beginning- to " shoot " 
 very naturally, most of them. I asked one new 
 scholar yesterday how old she was. " Don't know," 
 she said, " never was inside of a schoolhonse be- 
 fore." Another big girl got hold of my rubbers 
 the other day, " Ouch," said she, " be them Ingin 
 robbers ? I never seen any 'fore." Some of them 
 are bright enough to make up for all this, and on 
 the whole I enjoy being "schoolma'am " very much. 
 I have not seen a snake since I came here, and if I 
 did n't have to pass through such a sprinkling of 
 cattle on my way to school, I should n't have a 
 morsel of trouble. Everybody turns his " cattle- 
 brutes " out on the open prairie to feed, and they 
 will get right into my path, and such a mooing and 
 bellowing as they make ! George has three big 
 cows and two little ones, and two calves, and a 
 horse, and ten hens, and a big pig and a little one : 
 only the big pig has dug a subterranean passage, 
 and " runned away." And I don't milk the cows, 
 and I won't learn to, if I can help it, because they 
 will be so impolite as to turn round and stare me 
 in the face always when I go near them. 
 
 Talk to me about getting married and settling- 
 down here in the West ! I don't do that thintr till 
 I 'm a greater goose than I am now, for love nor 
 money. It is a common saying here, that " this is 
 a fine country for men and dogs, but women and
 
 IN ILLINOIS. 35 
 
 oxen have to take it." The secret of it is that 
 farmers' wives have to do all their work in one 
 room, without any help, and almost nothing to 
 work with. If ever I had the mind to take the 
 vestal vow, it has been since I " emigrated." 
 Yon '11 see me coming back one of these years, a 
 " right smart " old maid, my fat sides and cheeks 
 shaking with " the agey," to the tune of " Oh, take 
 your time, Miss Lucy ! " 
 
 I 've a good mind to give you a picture, for the 
 sun is setting, and it makes me feel " sort o' ro- 
 mantic." Well, in the first place, make a great 
 wide daub of green, away off as far as the sunset ; 
 streak it a little deeper, half-way there, for the 
 wheat fields. A little to the right make a smooth, 
 bluish green hill, as even as a potato hill, — that 's 
 the Blue Mound. A little one side, make a hun- 
 dred little red, black, and white specks on the 
 grass, — them 's the " cattle-brutes." Eight against 
 the sun, you may make a little bit of a house, with 
 one side of the roof hanging over like an umbrella, 
 — that 's Mr. Merritt's. And here, right before 
 you, make a little whitewashed log-cabin, with a 
 Virginia fence all round it ever so far, and a bank 
 on one side sloping down to a little brook, where 
 honey-locust trees a-plenty grow. Make it green 
 'n a great circle all round, just as if you were out 
 at sea, where it 's all blue ; then put on a great 
 round blue sky for a cover, throw in a very few 
 clouds, and have a " picter," or part of one, of our 
 prairie. There now, don't you think I should have
 
 36 LUCY LAB COM. 
 
 been an artist, if circumstances had only developed 
 my natural genius? All send love. Your ever- 
 lasting sister, Lucy. 
 
 The pioneer family found it necessary to move 
 their main headquarters, for Mr. Spaulding, the 
 husband of Emeline, decided to give up farming, 
 and become a minister. Ministers were scarce in 
 that region, and seeing the need, he carried out a 
 cherished plan of his youth by being ordained as a 
 preacher of the gospel. Consequently they deserted 
 their home, and went to Woodburn, with all their 
 newly acquired furnitui-e on three wagons, each 
 drawn by three yoke of oxen that splashed thi-ough 
 the mud, until they came to a cottage possessing 
 more rooms than the house they had left, though 
 the doors were made of rough boards. These rooms 
 were papered by Lucy, with Boston "Journals." 
 She grew to love this cottage, for it represented 
 home to her on the prairie. 
 
 In spite of cares and unpoetical methods of 
 living, her pen was not idle. She wrote of the 
 little prairie rose : — 
 
 " Flowers around are thick and bright, 
 The purple phlox and orchis white, 
 The orang-e lily, iris blue. 
 And painted cups of flaming hue. 
 Not one among them grows. 
 So lovely as the little prairie rose." 
 
 The spirit of a jolly ride over the snow she 
 cauglit in some lines called " A Prairie Sleigh- 
 Ride : " —
 
 IN ILLINOIS. 37 
 
 " Away o'er the prairies, the wide and. the free, 
 Away o'er the glistening' prairies with me ; 
 The last glance of day lights a blush on the snow. 
 While away through the twilight our merry steeds go." 
 
 She also felt the awe inspired by the silence and 
 immensity of the land, with the blue heavens arch- 
 
 ing over. 
 
 " But in its solemn silence, 
 Father, we feel thou art 
 Filling alike this boundless sea, 
 And every humble heart." 
 
 When Lucy had been teaching district school 
 for two years, she was conscious of her defi- 
 ciencies, and longed for a chance to acquire a 
 more thorough education. She wished to fit her- 
 self for promotion in her calling, and ambitions to 
 become a writer were not absent from her thoughts. 
 An opportunity for study presented itself in Mon- 
 ticello Female Seminary, Alton, Illinois, which was 
 about twenty miles away from her home. This in- 
 stitution, founded by Captain B. Godfrey, was one 
 of the first established in the country for the higher 
 education of women. The prospectus of 1845, 
 adorned with a stiff engraving of the grounds and 
 large stone building, offered in its antiquated lan- 
 guage, attractions which seemed to suit her needs : 
 " The design of the Institution, is to furnish Young 
 Ladies with an education, substantial^ extensive 
 and practical, — that shall at the same time de- 
 velop harmoniously their physical, intellectual, and 
 moral powers, and prepare them for the sober re- 
 alities and duties of life." All this was to be had
 
 38 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 for a sum less than one hundred doUai'S, in a situa- 
 tion so healthful that there " had never been a 
 death in the institution." 
 
 TO MRS. I. W. BAKER. 
 
 WooDBUKN, November 23, 1848. 
 ... I have a new notion in my head, and I sup- 
 pose I may as well broach it at once. There is a 
 certain Seminary in the neighborhood at which I am 
 very anxious to pass a year or so. It is one of the 
 best of its kind. I want a better education than I 
 have. Now I am only a tolerable sort of a " school- 
 ma'am" for children ; but if I could teach higher 
 branches, I could make it more profitable, with less 
 labor. I suppose I must call teaching my trade ; 
 and though I don't like it the " very best kind," I 
 want to understand it as well as possible. And 
 then if I don't always keep school I may be able to 
 depend on my pen for a living. . . . 
 
 As Lucy was not able to pay the full tuition, the 
 principal, Miss Fobes, arranged that she should 
 be both student and teacher, thus helping to defray 
 her expenses. She entered the school in Septem- 
 ber, 1849, and studied, in earnest, history, metaphy= 
 sics, English literature, and higher mathematics, 
 and laid the foundation for a thorough education. 
 
 Her schoolmates remember with pleasure the 
 beauty of her life at Monticello. They sj^eak of 
 the gentleness and peculiar sweetness of lier charac- 
 ter. Nothing coarse or mean could be associated
 
 IN ILLINOIS. 39 
 
 with her. Being older than the other girls she was 
 looked up to with reverence by them. Her singular 
 purity of mind was illustrated by a remark to one 
 of her companions, when they were talking about 
 the Christian life, — "I never knew there was any 
 other way to live." One of her schoolmates writes : 
 " I felt homesick, until one day I was introduced 
 to a large, fair-faced woman, and looked up to meet 
 a pair of happy blue eyes smiling down upon me, 
 so full of sweet human kindness that the clouds 
 fell straight away. And from that day the kind- 
 ness never failed me — I think it never failed any- 
 one. ' The sunshine of her face ' were words that 
 went out in many of my letters in those days." 
 
 She studied industriously each subject of the 
 course. Her note-books contain full extracts from 
 the authors she was reading, with long comments 
 by herself. Those on philosophy indicate a mind 
 naturally delighting in speculative questions ; and 
 when her reasoning touches upon theology, she 
 seems especially in earnest. History appealed to 
 her imagination, and she seized upon the more dra- 
 matic incidents for comment. English literature 
 opened a new world of thought to her, and she 
 studied enthusiastically the origin and growth of 
 poetry. In these studies of English it was first 
 suffffested to her that there was an art of versifica^ 
 tion, which could be cultivated. From this time 
 her lines conform more to poetic rules, her ear for 
 music being supplemented by a knowledge of metre. 
 
 There was one subject she could not master, —
 
 40 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 mathematics : " I am working on spherical trig- 
 onometr}^, just now. I don't fancy it much; it 
 needs a clearer head than mine to take in such ab- 
 stract matters as the sides and angles of the tri- 
 angle that can be imagined, but not seen." She 
 would exclaim, when studying Conic Sections, that 
 she could see all the beauty, and feel all the poetry, 
 but could not take the steps. When, however, 
 after great work, she did understand a proposition, 
 she accepted it as an eternal fact which God used 
 for infinite purposes. 
 
 The girls at Monticello had a debating society. 
 They gained confidence in speaking on such ques- 
 tions as, — " The blind man has more enjoyment 
 in life, than the dumb man," or, " Does the devel- 
 opment of science depend more upon genius than 
 industry ? " Youthful wits were sharpened as a 
 residt of afSrming and denying these momentous 
 propositions, in arguments as strong as could be 
 had. Does not the following extract from one of 
 Lucy's speeches present a typical picture of the 
 fortunes of war in debate, when members are 
 sometimes overcome by the weight of their own 
 wisdom ? " The member from Otter Creek arose 
 and said that immigrants to this country were not 
 the "^ lowest classes, that they were quite a decent 
 sort of people — but upon uttering these words, 
 she was shaken by a qualm of conscience, or some 
 sudden indisposition, and compelled to take her 
 seat." 
 
 There were also compositions to be written. The
 
 IN ILLINOIS. 41 
 
 subjects assigned for tliese monthly tests of literary 
 ability were as artificial as those for debate. The 
 object of the teacher in our early schools seems to 
 have been the selection of topics for essays as far 
 removed from anything usual or commonplace as 
 possible. One can very easily imagine what would 
 be the style of an essay on the topic, " It is the high 
 prerogative of the heroic soul to propagate its own 
 likeness." Lucy managed to get a little humor 
 into the discussion of the question, — " Was the 
 building of Bunker Hill Monument a wise expen- 
 diture of funds ? " She argued : " Is there a use 
 in monuments ? Perhaps not, literally. We have 
 heard of no process by which Bunker Hill Monu- 
 ment might be converted into a lodging-house, and 
 though we are aware that our thrifty brethren of 
 Yankee-land have made it yield its quota of dollars 
 and cents, so that any aspirant may step into a 
 basket and be swung to the pinnacle of a nation's 
 glory for ninepence, we are not in the habit of con- 
 sidering this its sole productive principle, unless 
 gratitude and patriotism are omitted." 
 
 Miss Larcom remained at IVIonticello Seminary 
 until her graduation in June, 1852. Miss Fobes 
 says : " When she left the institution, with her di- 
 ploma, and the benediction of her Alma Mater, we 
 felt sure that, with her noble equipment for service, 
 the result should be success in whatever field she 
 should find her work." Her improvement had 
 been so great that it was noticeable to the mem- 
 bers of the family, who referred to her as " our 
 learned sister."
 
 42 LUCY LiiBCOM. 
 
 TO MRS. ABBY O. HASKELL. 
 
 MoNTiCELLO Seminary, May 14th, 1850. 
 . . . But pray don't call me your " learned sis- 
 ter " any more ; for if I deserved the title, it would 
 make me feel like a something on a pedestal, and 
 not plain Lucy Larcom: the sister of some half- 
 dozen worthy matrons. 
 
 I think it must be a mistake about my having 
 improved so very much ; though I should be sorry 
 to have lived all these years and made no advance- 
 ment. Folks tell me that I am dignified, some- 
 times, but I don't know what it means. I have 
 never tried to be, and I seem just as natural to my- 
 self as anything. 
 
 I don't know how I coidd ever get along with 
 all your cares. I should like tending the babies 
 well enough, but when it came to washing, baking, 
 brewing, and mending, my patience would take 
 "French leave." Still I don't believe that any 
 married woman's trials are much worse than a 
 " schoolma'am's." . . . 
 
 There was an event in her life in the West to be 
 touched on. It relates to her one serious love af- 
 fair. A deep attachment sprang up between Lucy 
 and a young man who had accompanied her sister's 
 family to Illinois, and for a time lived with them 
 during their log-cabin experiences, but afterwards 
 went to California. When he left, though they 
 could hardly be called engaged, there was an under-
 
 IN ILLINOIS. 43 
 
 standino- between them tliat, when he returned 
 during- the last days of her school life, they were to 
 decide the matter finally. After three years of sep- 
 aration, they were no nearer a conclusion. Some 
 years after this, it became clear to Miss Larcom 
 that their marriage would not be for the best inter- 
 ests of either. 
 
 In 1852, her thoughts turned again to her native 
 town of Beverly. Equipped with her JMonticello 
 education, she felt prepared to support herself by 
 teachino- in her cong-enial home in the East. The 
 memories of her childhood drew her back in thought 
 to her old home. She wrote to her brother Benja- 
 min in March, " The almanac says I am twenty- 
 eight years old, but really, Ben, I do believe it fibs, 
 for I don't feel half so old. It seems only the 
 other day that Lydia and I were sitting by the 
 big kitchen fireplace, down the lane, and you op- 
 posite us, puffing cigar-smoke into our hair, and 
 singing, ' My name is Apollyon.' " 
 
 To her sister Lydia, whose birthday was on the 
 same day of the month as her own, she sent some 
 verses recalling her childhood. 
 
 " In childhood we looked gayly out, 
 To see this blustering da-wn begin 
 And hailed the wind whose noisy shout 
 Our mutual birthday ushered in. 
 
 " For cakes, beneath our pillow rolled, 
 
 We laughing searched, and wondered, too, 
 How mother had so well foretold 
 What fairy people meant to do."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 LIFE AT NORTON. 
 
 1853-1859. 
 
 In the autumn of 1853, Miss Larcom, having 
 returned to Beverly, lived for a year with her 
 sister, Mrs. Baker, in the pretty old-fashioned 
 house on Cabot Street. Securing a few rooms in 
 an unoccupied house not far away, she fitted them 
 up as schoolroom and studio. Here she taught 
 a little school with ten scholars. Most of these 
 young girls were as far advanced as the second 
 class at Monticello, and having already been in- 
 structed in the fundamental studies, they were not 
 so difficult to teach as her u.n trained pupils in the 
 West. The impression she made upon each of 
 these young lives was strong, for, as a little family, 
 she not only taught them the lessons, but gave 
 them generously from her enthusiasm and faith. 
 She imparted to them her love for all things true 
 and beautiful. When the school year closed, she 
 asked each girl to choose her favorite flower, upon 
 which she wrote a few lines of verse, — on the hya- 
 cinth, signifying jealousy, — on the lily of the vaL 
 ley, meaning innocence.
 
 LIFE AT NORTON. 45 
 
 " The fragrance Sarah would inhale 
 Is the lily of the vale : 
 ' Humility,' it whispers low ; 
 Ah ! let that gentle breathing- flow 
 Deep within, and then will you 
 Be a lily of the valley too." 
 
 One of these pupils wrote to her years after: 
 " Among the teachers of my girlhood, you are 
 the one who stands out as my model of woman- 
 hood." 
 
 While teaching, she still considered herself a 
 scholar. Nor did she ever in after life overcome 
 this feeling, for she was always eager to learn. 
 When she was imparting her best instruction, and 
 writing her most noteworthy books, she studied 
 with great fidelity. At this time she took lessons 
 in French and. drawing ; her love for color and 
 form was always great. Often she had attempted 
 in crude ways to preserve the spirit of a landscape, 
 and so reproduce the color of the green ferns and 
 variegated flowers ; but now she set about the task 
 in earnest. She had no special talent for painting, 
 so she did nothing worthy of special notice, but some 
 water-color sketches of autumn leaves, the golden- 
 rod's " rooted sunshine," woodland violets, and the 
 coral of the barberry, and apple-blossoms, "flakes 
 of fragrance drifting everywhere," are very pretty. 
 This study of painting, however, trained her obser- 
 vation, and prepared her to appreciate works of 
 art by giving her some knowledge of the use of 
 the palette. This early attempt at artist's work 
 strengthened her love for pictures ; and it was a
 
 46 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 special treat to her to visit the different galleries 
 in Boston, where she was sure to be one of the 
 first to see a celebrated painting. 
 
 It was a pleasure to her to be once more with 
 her family, for the members of which she had the 
 deepest affection. Writing to Miss Fobes, she ex- 
 pressed herself thus : " I am glad I came home, 
 for I never realized before what a treasure my 
 family circle was, nor how much I loved them. 
 Then why do I not wish to stay ? Simply because 
 it does not seem to me that I can here develop the 
 utmost that is in me. Ought I to be contented 
 while that feeling remains? " 
 
 The feeling that she must develop " the utmost 
 that is in me," impelled her through life, as a duty 
 that she must regard. She was not without oppor- 
 tunities for cultivation in Beverly. There were 
 the two weekly Lyceum lectures, with good speak- 
 ers — Miss Lucy Stone had advocated woman's 
 rights so ably that " even in this conservative town 
 many became converts." However, she longed for 
 a larger work, and was ready to accept the call to 
 be a teacher in Wheaton Seminary, Norton, Massa- 
 chusetts. 
 
 In the early winter of 1854, she began her work 
 at Wheaton Seminary, the large school for girls, 
 founded through the generosity of Judge Wheaton, 
 in memory of his daughter. The subjects given 
 her to teach were history, moral j)liilosophy, lit- 
 erature, and rhetoric, including the duty of over- 
 looking the greater part of the compositions.
 
 LIFE AT NORTON. 47 
 
 Her spirit on entering upon this new work, is 
 indicated by this letter : — 
 
 TO MISS p. FOBES.   
 
 Wheaton Seminaky, Norton, Mass., 
 January 10, 1855. 
 
 Dear Miss Fobes : — When I look back upon 
 my life I think I see it divided into epochs similar 
 to geological ages, when, by slow or sudden up- 
 heavings, I have found myself the wondering pos- 
 sessor of a new life in a new world. My years at 
 Monticello formed such an epoch, and it is no flat- 
 tery to say that to you I owe much of the richness 
 and beauty of the landscape over which I now 
 exult. For your teaching gave me intellectually a 
 broader scope and firmer footing than I ever had 
 ventured upon. 
 
 I know that I have done almost nothing as yet 
 to show that I have received so much good. Life 
 here seems to me not much more than " a getting 
 ready to do." But in the consciousness of what it 
 is to be a human being, created in the image of the 
 divine, — in the gradual developing of new inner 
 powers like unfolding wings, — in the joy of enter- 
 ing into the secrets of beauty in God's universe, — 
 in the hopefulness of constant struggling and aspir- 
 ing, I am rich. 
 
 I have been in this place only a few weeks and 
 suppose the length of my stay will depend upon 
 the satisfaction I give and receive. It is a pleasant 
 school. Yours truly, LuCY Larcom.
 
 48 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 The length of her stay in Norton extended over 
 eight important years of her life, from 1854 to 
 1862. These years were full of intellectual and 
 religious struggles, of hard student life, of sweet 
 companionships, of the beginnings of literary suc= 
 cess, and of deep friendships. Earnestness and 
 sincerity here became her characteristic traits ; 
 while her gentleness and patience, though sorely 
 tried at times by the misconduct or failure of her 
 scholars, became habitual with her. 
 
 One cannot think of the quiet life she led under 
 the Norton elms, without jDicturing the tall grace- 
 ful woman with her sweet face, low broad forehead, 
 and soft blue eyes, moving about among the girls 
 as a continual inspiration, always leading them by 
 her presence and words into some region of senti- 
 ment, or beauty, or religion. In the schoolroom, 
 ever dignified, she spoke in a low voice with the 
 emphasis of real interest. In her own room, with 
 its green carpet and white curtains, where she liked 
 to retire for thought and work, surrounded by her 
 books, a few pictures, and shells and pressed sea- 
 weed, she would prepare her lectures, and write her 
 letters to her friends. There were sure to be flow- 
 ers on her table, sent either by some loving scholar, 
 or plucked by her own hand, — "I have some 
 pretty things in my room ; and flowers, so alive ! 
 As I look into their deep cups, I am filled with the 
 harmonies of color and form. How warm a brisfht 
 rose-pink carnation makes the room on a wintry 
 day ! " A scholar tells how, venturing into this
 
 LIFE AT NORTON. 49 
 
 retreat, she saw Miss Larcom quietly sitting in a 
 rocking-chair, knitting stockings for the soldiers, 
 during the War. 
 
 She was a conscientious student in preparing 
 her lessons ; she read the best books she could find 
 in the school library, or could borrow from her 
 friends. The notes of her lectures show great labor 
 by their exhaustiveness. As a teacher, some of her 
 power was derived from the clearness with which 
 she presented the theme, and her picturesque style 
 of expression. She invested the most lifeless topics 
 with interest by the use of original and appropri- 
 ate illustrations, — as will be seen in the following 
 passage from a lecture on Anglo-Saxon poetry, in 
 which she describes the minstrels : — 
 
 " The minstrels would sing, and the people would 
 listen ; and if the monks had listened too, they 
 would sometimes have heard the irregularities of 
 their lives chanted for the derision of the populace. 
 For the bards assumed perfect independence in 
 their choice of themes ; liberty of the lyre seems 
 to have been what liberty of the press is in these 
 days. We can imagine the excitement in some 
 quaint village, when the harp of one of these 
 strollers was heard ; how men and women would 
 leave their work, and listen to these ballads. 
 Those who have seen the magnetic effect of a hand- 
 organ on village children, may have some idea of 
 it ; if the organ-grinder were also a famous story- 
 teller, the effect would be greater. And this is 
 something like what these ballad singers were to
 
 50 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 oui* elder brethren of Angle-land, in th^ childhood 
 of civilization." 
 
 What excellent advice this is to girls, on the 
 subject of their compositions, — " Get rid, if you 
 can, of that formal idea of a composition to write, 
 that stalks like a ghost through your holiday hours. 
 Interest yourself in something, and just say your 
 simple say about it. One mistake with beginners 
 in writing is, that they think it important to spin 
 out something long. It is a great deal better not 
 to write more than a page or two, unless you have 
 something to say, and can write it correctly." 
 
 The recitations in her class-room were of an un- 
 conventional character. Dealing with topics in the 
 largest and most interesting way, she often used up 
 the time in discussion, so that the girls who did not 
 know their lessons sometimes took advantage of 
 this peculiarity by asking questions, for the sole 
 purpose of needlessly prolonging her explanation. 
 It was often a joke among the scholars that she 
 did not know where the lesson was ; but so soon as 
 she found the place, she made clear the portion 
 assigned, and brought all her knowledge to bear 
 so fully on the subject, that the scholars caught 
 glimpses of unexi^lored fields of thought, which 
 were made to contribute something to illustrate the 
 theme in hand. 
 
 She did more for the girls than by simply teach- 
 ing them in the class-room. She enlarged their 
 intellectual life by founding a jjaper, called " The 
 Rushlight," by which they not only gained confi-
 
 LIFE AT NOBTON. 51 
 
 dence, but centralized the literary ability of the 
 school. She explained the origin of the paper 
 thus : " I said to myself, as I glanced over the 
 bright things from the pile of compositions that 
 rose before me semi-weekly, ' Why cannot we have 
 a paper ? ' I said it to the girls, and to the teachers 
 also, and everybody was pleased with the idea." 
 She also fomided the Psyche Literary Society, to 
 stimulate the sirls' studies in literature and art. 
 
 Another element in her power as a teacher was 
 her personal interest in the girls. It was not 
 solely an intellectual or literary interest, but she 
 thought of their characters and religious training. 
 To one of the girls she wrote, " I never felt it an 
 interruption for you to come into my room ; how 
 we used to talk about everything! " When they 
 were in trouble, they came naturally to her with 
 their confidences. She was sometimes called 
 "Mother Larcom," and she earned the title, for 
 she acted like a mother to the homesick girl, and 
 quieted by her gentle persuasiveness the tears of 
 repentance, or bitter weeping of sorrow, of some 
 of the more unfortunate of her pupils. Writing 
 about one of the girls whose religious development 
 she had watched, she said, " She is unfolding from 
 the heart to God most openly, now. I am sure 
 there is a deep life opening in her. I have rejoiced 
 over her." 
 
 She discovered, through their moods — as in the 
 case of one who was crying a great deal — or by 
 the frequency of a permitted correspondence, their
 
 52 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 real or fancied love-affairs. After winning their 
 confidence she could wisely advise them. Thus in 
 one instance she wrote : " If such intimacy is true 
 friendship, it will be a benefit to both ; yet it is not 
 without danger. I have seen the severest sufferings 
 from the struggle between duty and feeling in such 
 relations. I have seen life embittered by reason 
 of the liberty allowed to a cousinly love, left un- 
 watched. It is hard to keep the affections right in 
 quantity and quality. But I need not say that a 
 true love needs no limits ; it is only falsehood that 
 embitters every sweet and pure cup." 
 
 When the girls left school, they carried her love 
 with them ; and by corresjiondence and visits to 
 their homes, where she was always a welcome guest, 
 she followed them through the deepest experiences 
 of their lives. One of her scholars said, " If I were 
 to sum up the strong impression she made upon me, 
 I should say it all in ' I loved her.' " Another 
 wrote, " Miss Larcom was to me a peerless star, 
 unattainable in the excellence and purity of her 
 character. She stood as the ideal woman, whom I 
 wished to be like." 
 
 When death invaded a home, she knew how to 
 
 write : — 
 
 Norton, October 7, 1855. 
 
 . . . Why is it we dread the brief parting of death 
 so much ? Do we really doubt meeting them again ? 
 Will they have lost themselves in the great crowd 
 of immortals, so that when our time comes to fol- 
 low them we cannot find them? I am just read-
 
 LIFE AT NORTON, 53 
 
 iiiT^ for the first time, " In Memoriam," and it fills 
 my niind with these questions. I think I should 
 be homesick in a mansion filled with angels, if my 
 own precious friends whom I loved were not within 
 call. . . . 
 
 The followang letter shows her intimacy with the 
 girls : — 
 
 TO MISS SUSAN HAYKS WARD. 
 
 Norton, April 2, 1855. 
 
 My Dear Susie, — I find it almost impossible to 
 feel at home in a boarding-school ; and then I know 
 I never was made for a teacher, — a schoolmistress 
 I mean. Still, among so many, one feels an inspira- 
 tion in trying to do what is to be done, though the 
 feeling that others would do it better is a draw- 
 back. And then, at such a place, I always find 
 somebody to remember forever. For that I am 
 thankful for my winter's experience. There are 
 buds opening in the great human garden, which 
 are not to be found at our own hearthstone : and 
 it is a blessed task to watch them unfolding, and 
 shield them from blight. And yet what can one 
 mortal do for another ? There is no such thing as 
 helping, or blessing, except by becoming a medium 
 for the divine light, and that is blessedness in it- 
 self. 
 
 It seems to me that to be a Christian is just to 
 look up to God, and be blessed by his love, and 
 then move through the world quietly, radiating as 
 we go. . . .
 
 64 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 The develoi^raent of lier own religious life was 
 marked by many radical changes. She was no 
 longer satisfied by the theology in which she had 
 been reared. She sought new foundations for her 
 belief. Her classes in philosophy led her into the 
 world of controversy. Plato was constantly by her 
 side, and she refreshed herself by reading Coleridge's 
 '' Aids to Reflection," from which she gained more 
 nutriment than from any other religious book, ex- 
 cept the Bible. Swedenborg taught her that " to 
 grow old in heaven is to grow young." Sears's 
 " Foregieams and Foreshadows " made her feel 
 the joy of living, as presented in the chapter on 
 " Home." She also read " Tauler's Sermons," and 
 Hare's " Mission of the Comforter." 
 
 Interwoven with her religious thought were the 
 life and influence of one of the dearest friends she 
 ever knew, Miss Esther S. Humiston of Waterbury, 
 Connecticut, a woman of rare powers, and wonder- 
 ful sweetness of character. The two women were 
 not unlike. They had the same spiritual longings, 
 similiar views of life, and equal intellectual attain- 
 ments. Miss Larcom looked up to Esther for 
 guidance, and such was the i3erfect accord between 
 them, that she wrote to her fully about her deej)est 
 thoughts, and most sacred experiences. 
 
 In the spring of 1858, she wrote thus to Esther : — 
 *' You do not realize how very unorthodox I am. 
 I do not think a bond of church-membership ought 
 to be based upon intellectual belief at all, but that 
 it should simply be a union in the divine love and
 
 LIFE AT NORTON. 55 
 
 life. Now I do not formally belong to any par- 
 ticular church, — that is, I have a letter from a 
 little Congregational church on the prairies, which 
 I have never used, and I know not how, honestly, I 
 can. For should I not be required virtuallj^ to say 
 I believe certain things? I believe the Bible, but 
 not just as any church I know explains it, and so I 
 think I must keep aloof until I can find some band, 
 united simply as Christian, without any "ism " at- 
 tached. We all do belong to Christ's Church who 
 love Him, so I do not feel lost or a wanderer, even 
 though I cannot externally satisfy others." 
 
 TO ESTHER S. HUMISTON. 
 
 Beverly, Mass., August 2d, 1858. 
 ... I regard Christianity as having to do with 
 the heart and life, and not with the opinions ; and 
 my own opinions are not definite on many points. 
 The disputed doctrines of total depravity, predes- 
 tination, etc., with some of those distinctly called 
 " evangelical," such as the atonement, and the 
 duration of suffering after death, I find more and 
 more difficulty in thinking about ; so that I cannot 
 yet say what " views " I " hold." There, — wiU you 
 be my " sister confessor " ? As I see things now, 
 the " atonement " is to me, literally, the " atone- 
 ment," — our fallen natures lifted from the earthly 
 by redeeming love, and brought into harmony with 
 God ; Jesus, the Mediator, is doing it now, in 
 every heart that receives Him, and I think our 
 faith should look up to Him as He is, the living
 
 66 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 Redeemer, and not merely back to the dead Christ, 
 — for "He is not dead." Then, as to the future 
 state of those who die unrepentant : after probing 
 my heart, I find that it utterly refuses to believe 
 that there is any corner in God's universe where 
 " hope never comes." There must be suffering, 
 anguish, for those who choose sin, so long as they 
 choose it ; but can a soul, made in the image 
 of God, who is Light, choose darkness forever? 
 There is but one God, whose is the " kingdom, 
 the power, and the glory, forever and ever ; " is 
 there any depth of darkness, which this sovereign 
 radiance shall not at last pierce? I know the 
 Bible testimony, and it seems to me that the inmost 
 meaning, even of those fearfully denunciatory pas- 
 sages, would confirm this truth. Now, you can 
 imagine how these sentiments would be received 
 by an Orthodox Church. . . . 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 Norton, September 2, 1860. 
 ... I enjoyed being with my friends. I told you 
 that they were Universalists, but theirs is a better- 
 toned piety than that of some Orthodox friends. 
 Still, there was a want in it, a something that left 
 me longing ; it was as if they were looking at the 
 sunlit side of a mountain, and never thought of 
 the shadows which must be beyond. The mystery 
 of life is in its shadows, and its beauty, in great 
 part, too. There is n't shadow enough in Univer- 
 salism to make a comprehensible belief for me,
 
 LIFE AT NORTON. 57 
 
 And yet I believe there is no corner of God's uni- 
 verse where His love is not brooding, and seeking 
 to penetrate the darkest abyss. . . . 
 
 The question about her marriage was definitely 
 settled while she was at Norton. She decided, in 
 the first place, on general grounds, that it woiild be 
 best for her not to marry. There were various 
 reasons for this. She had many premonitions of 
 the breaking down of her health, which finally 
 came in 1862, when she had to give up teaching ; 
 and owing to some exaggeration of her symptoms 
 — for at times she felt that her mind might give 
 way — she thought it unwise for her to take up 
 the responsibilities of matrimony. In addition to 
 this, she grew fond of her independence, and as 
 her ability asserted itself, she seemed to see before 
 her a career as an authoress, which she felt it her 
 duty to pursue. Special reasons, of course, one 
 cannot go into fully, though there are some fea- 
 tures of them that may be mentioned ; to Esther 
 she stated an abundantly sufficient one, — "I am 
 almost sure there are chambers in my heart that 
 he could not unlock." She also differed radically 
 from her lover on the subject of slavery. Her 
 feelings as an abolitionist were so strong that she 
 knew where there was such a division of senti- 
 ments a household could not be at peace within 
 itself. This difference of opinion concerning all 
 the questions that culminated in the Civil War 
 resulted in a final refusal, which afterwards found
 
 68 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 public expression in her noted poem, "A Loyal 
 Woman's No," an energetic refusal of a loyal 
 woman to a lover who upheld slavery : — 
 
 "Not yoiirs, — because you are not man enough 
 To grasp your country's measure of a man, 
 If such as you, when Freedom's ways are rough, 
 Cannot walk in them, — learn that women can ! " 
 
 The poem was not written entirely out of her 
 own experience. In making a confession about 
 it to a friend, she says, " I have had a thousand 
 tremblings about its going into print, because I feel 
 that some others might feel hurt by the part that 
 is not from my own experience. If it is better for 
 the cause, let me and those old associations be sac- 
 rificed." The publication of the poem was justi- 
 fied by the way it was received everywhere. It 
 was quoted in the newsj^apers all over the North. 
 An answer was printed in " The Courier," called 
 " A Young Man's Reply." This interested Miss 
 Larcom, and she referred to it as " quite satisfac- 
 tory, inasmuch as it shows that somebody whom 
 the coat fitted put it on ! If it does make unmanly 
 and disloyal men wince, I am glad I wrote it." 
 
 TO ESTHER S. HUMISTON. 
 
 Norton, June 1, 1858. 
 ... I shall probably never marry. I can see 
 reasons why it would be unwise for me ; and yet I 
 will freely tell you that I believe I should have 
 been very happy, " if it might have been." A 
 true marriage (^the is the word I should have used)
 
 LIFE AT NORTON. 59 
 
 IS the highest state of earthly happiness, — the flow- 
 ing of the deepest life of the soul into a kindred 
 soul, two spirits made one, — to be a double light 
 and blessing to other souls has, I doubt not, been 
 sometimes, though seldom, realized on earth. . , . 
 
 This touch of real romance in her life shows 
 that she had a woman's true nature, and that she 
 did not escape the gentle grasping of the divine 
 passion, though she shook herself free from it, 
 deciding- that it was better for her to walk alone. 
 Some lines of her poem, " Un wedded," suggest the 
 reasons for her decision : — 
 
 " And here is a womai! who understood 
 
 Herself, her work, and God's will with her, 
 To gather and scatter His sheaves of good. 
 
 And was meekly thankful, though men demur. 
 
 " Would she have walked more nobly, think. 
 With a man beside her, to point the way, 
 Hand joining hand in the marriage link ? 
 Possibly, Yes : it is likelier, Nay." 
 
 TO MISS ESTHER S. HUMISTON. 
 
 Norton, January 15, 1859. 
 . . . The books came through the post-office, 
 with the note separate ; they were brought to me 
 while I was having a class recite logic in my room, 
 — the dryest and most distasteful of all subjects to 
 me, but it is a select class, and that makes up for 
 the study. The young ladies who compose it are 
 on quite familiar terms with me, and when the 
 messenger said, " Three books and two letters for
 
 60 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 Miss Larcom," their curiosity was greatly excited, 
 and there was so much sly peeping at corners and 
 picking at strings that they were not, on the whole, 
 very logical. They asked to hold them for me till 
 I was ready to open them, and I believe in letting 
 ■' young ladies " act like children while they can, 
 ... I w^as thinking how much I should enjoy a 
 quiet forenoon writing to you, when the words, 
 " Study hour out " — accompanied the clang of the 
 bell, and a Babel of voices broke into the hall out- 
 side my door. 
 
 I am trying not to hear — to get back into the 
 quiet places of thought where your letters, open 
 before me, were leading me, but I cannot ; there is 
 a jar, a discord, — and I suppose it is selfish in me 
 not to be willing to be thus disturbed. How I long 
 for a quiet place to live in ! I never found a place 
 still enough yet. But all kinds of natural sounds, 
 as winds, waters, and even the crying of a baby, if 
 not too loud and protracted, are not noises to me. 
 Is it right to feel the sound of human voices a 
 great annoyance ? One who loved everybody would 
 always enjoy the " music of speech," I suppose, 
 and would find music where I hear only discord. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 Sabbath evening. 
 ... I read in school yesterday morning, some- 
 thing from the " Sympathy of Christ." We have 
 had some very naughty girls here, and have had to 
 think of expulsion ; but one of them ran away, and
 
 LIFE AT NORTON. 61 
 
 SO saved us the trouble. How hard it is to judoe 
 the erring rightly — Christianly. I am always 
 inclined to be too severe, for the sake of the rest ; 
 one corrupt heart that loves to roll its corruption 
 about does so much evil. I do not think that a 
 school like this is the place for evil natures — the 
 family Is the place, it seems to me, or even some- 
 thing more solitary. And yet there have been 
 such reforms here, that sometimes I am in doubt. 
 When there is a Christian, sympathizing heart to 
 take the erring home, and care for her as a mother 
 would, that is well. But we are all so busy here, 
 with the everythings. I am convinced that I have 
 too much head-employment altogether ; I get hardly 
 breathing time for heart and home life. . . . 
 
 In 1854, Miss Larcom published her iirst book, 
 — " Similitudes from the Ocean and the Prairie." 
 It was a little volume of not more than one hundred 
 pages, containing brief prose parables drawn from 
 nature, with the purpose of illustrating some moral 
 truth. The titles of the Similitudes suggest their 
 meaning : " The Song before the Storm ; " " The 
 Veiled Star ; " " The Wasted Flower ; " and " The 
 Lost Gem." Though the conception was somewhat 
 crude, yet her desire to find in all things a message 
 of a higher life and a greater beauty, showed the 
 serious beginnings of the poet's insight, which in 
 after years was to reveal to her so many hidden 
 truths. She characterized the book as " a very im- 
 mature affair, often entirely childish." *
 
 62 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 Her first distinct literary success was the writ- 
 ing of the Kansas Prize Song, in 1855. When 
 Kansas was being settled, the New England Emi- 
 grant Aid Company offered a prize of fifty dollars 
 for the best song, written with the object of inspir- 
 ine: in the eniio-rants the sentiments of freedom. 
 The power of a popular melody was to be used in 
 maintaining a free soil. She gained this prize ; 
 and her stirring words were sung all through the 
 West. They were printed, with the appropriate 
 music of Mr. E. Norman, on cotton handkerchiefs, 
 which were given away by the thousand. 
 
 "Yeomen strong', hither throng, 
 
 Nature's honest men ; 
 We will make the wilderness 
 
 Bud and bloom again ; 
 Bring the sickle, speed the plough, 
 
 Turn the ready soil ; 
 Freedom is the noblest pay 
 
 For a true man's toil. 
 
 *' Ho, brothers ! come, brothers ! 
 Hasten all with me ; 
 We '11 sing upon the Kansas plains 
 A song of liberty." 
 
 Her next little book, " Lottie's Thought-book," 
 was published by the American Sunday School 
 Union, Philadelphia, in 1858. Not unlike the 
 Similitudes in its method of teaching by parables, 
 it gave the thoughts of a clever child, as they 
 would be suggested by such scenes as a beautiful 
 spring morning in the country, " when glad thoughts 
 praise Gsod ; " the first snow, typifying the purity
 
 LIFE AT NORTON. 63 
 
 of the earth ; or the thought of the joy of living, 
 in the chapter "Glad to be alive" that recalls an 
 exclamation she uses in one of her letters, " Oh ! 
 how happy I am, that I did not die in childhood ! " 
 These little books are like the inner biography of 
 her youth, a pure crystal stream of love, reflecting 
 the sunlight in every ripple and eddy. 
 
 She also wrote for various magazines, notably 
 " The Crayon," in which appeared some criticisms 
 of poetry, especially Miss Muloch's, and some of 
 her poems, like " Chriemhild," a legend of Norse 
 romance. The only payment she received was the 
 subscription to the magazine. Her famous poem, 
 " Hannah Binding Shoes," was first printed in the 
 "Knickerbocker," without her knowledge, — then 
 a few months later, in " The Crayon." This fact 
 gave rise to the accusation of plagiarism which, 
 though it greatly annoyed her, brought her poem 
 into general notice. Having sent the poem to the 
 " Knickerbocker," but not receiving any answer 
 about its acceptance, she concluded that it had been 
 rejected. She then sent it to " The Crayon," where 
 it appeared, but in the mean time it had been 
 printed in the "Knickerbocker." The editor of 
 the last-named paper wrote a letter to the " New 
 York Tribune," in which he accused Lucy Larcom 
 of being " a literary thiefess," and claimed the 
 " stolen goods." In answer to this. Miss Larcom 
 wrote immediately a reply to the " Tribune."
 
 64 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 Norton, Mass., February 13, 1858. 
 To THE Editor of the New York Tribuxe : 
 
 Sir, — Will you please say to " Old Nick " that 
 he does not tell the truth. His statements regard- 
 ing me, in your paper, February 10, are not cor- 
 rect. Lucy Larcom is not a " literary thiefess ; " 
 " Hannah Binding Shoes " was not written " fiv^e 
 or six years," but about four years since. I have 
 only to blush that I wrote it, and that I sent it to 
 the editor of the "Knickerbocker." 
 
 The latter was done at a time when it seemed 
 desirable for me to attempt writing for pecuniary 
 profit, — a very ridiculous idea, of course, — and I 
 enclosed the poem in a letter, intimating such a de- 
 sire to that gentleman, and supposing that courtesy 
 would suggest that the letter should be answered, 
 or the poem returned. As neither of these things 
 was done, I innocently considered it my own prop- 
 erty, and sent it to " The Crayon," as an original 
 composition. 
 
 I hereby reclaim from " Old Nick," my " stolen 
 goods," which he has inadvertently advertised. 
 Yours truly, LuCY Larcom. 
 
 She wrote rather a severe letter to the " most 
 honorable Old Nick " himself, in which she says, 
 " In my ignorance, I supposed that editors were as 
 polite as other people, in such matters as answer- 
 ing letters, and acknowledging even small favors. 
 I am sure I never woidd have sent you a poem, if I
 
 LIFE AT NOB TON. 65 
 
 had supposed you would one day have accused me of 
 stealing it, and I hereby promise with sincere peni- 
 tence, never to do so again. I suppose I can hardly 
 look for the coui'tesy of an explanation as public 
 as your accusation has been." 
 
 She also wrote an explanation to Mr, John Du- 
 rand, the editor of " The Crayon." 
 
 TO JOHN DURAND. 
 
 Norton, February 12, 1858. 
 
 Dear Mr. Durand, — " Hannah Binding Shoes " 
 I may truly say is " a poor thing, sir, but mine own." 
 I should hardly have supposed that the identity of 
 so humble an individual would be thought worth 
 calling in question. The poem was written four 
 years since, and was sent to the editor of the 
 " Knickerbocker " in my own name, but as I re- 
 ceived no acknowledgment from him, and have 
 never seen a copy of the paper since, I supposed 
 it either failed to reach him, or was not accepted. 
 Was I not justifiable in sending it to you ? I had 
 no idea that it had been published before. 
 
 Yours truly, Lucy Larcom. 
 
 " Hannah Binding Shoes " was set to music, and 
 became very popular. Rev. Samuel Longfellow 
 wrote her, " I wish you could have heard, as I did 
 the other evening, ' Hannah ' sung by Adelaide 
 Phillips." Together with its sequel, " Skipper 
 Ben," it recalled an incident very common in a 
 New England sea-town, where ships were lost and
 
 66 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 lovers never returned, where every home had In it 
 hearts that beat for those out at sea, and where 
 women stood on the shore and strained their eyes 
 looking for a sail. In these verses, as in all her 
 poetry of the sea, she has caught the dirge in the 
 wind, and the lonesome sound of beating waves when 
 the skipper " faced his fate in a furious night." 
 
 In 1859 Miss Larcom tried, at the suggestion of 
 many friends, to find a publisher for a volume of 
 verses, but she was unsuccessful. A letter from 
 Mr. Whittier accompanying the manuscript did 
 not win Ticknor and Fields to her side. She took 
 a very sensible view of her discomfiture. 
 
 TO JOHN" DURAND. 
 
 Norton, October 29, 1860. 
 ... I should have regarded the thought of pub- 
 lishing as premature ; but most of my friends are 
 not artistic, and do not look upon my unripe fruits 
 as I do. What I have written is at least genuine, 
 sincere. I believe it is in me to do better things 
 than I have done, and I shall work on in the faith 
 of leaving something that will find its true place in 
 the right time, because of the life there is in it. 
 To live out, to express in some way the best there 
 is in us, seems to me to be about all of life. . . . 
 
 After Miss Larcom's return from the West, the 
 friendship with the Whittiers ripened and became 
 a factor in her life. The gentle sweetness of the 
 poet's sister Elizabeth soon won its way to her
 
 LIFE AT NORTON. 67 
 
 heart, and the strength of the man greatly impressed 
 her. They grew very fond of her, and took an in- 
 terest in her literary work. The attachment that 
 Elizabeth formed for her was based on a most 
 genuine love. In one of her letters she wrote, 
 " Dear, dear Lucy, — Let me thank thee for all 
 thy love. I can never tell thee how sweet it has 
 been to me. I could have cried to think of thy 
 loving care for me." Again : — "I wish I could 
 see thee oftener. I need thee. I feel a little more 
 rest with thee than with most. Thou hast done 
 me good since I first knew thee." The two lives 
 mingled and blended in the contact of companion- 
 ship, for refinement of feeling, delicacy of thought, 
 and strength of moral purpose, were characteristic 
 of both. Mr. Whittier found her companionable, 
 and admired her sincerity and poetical ability, 
 which he recognized very early. It was one of 
 Miss Larcom's greatest pleasures, while at Norton, 
 to run off and spend a few days at Amesbury in 
 the household that she loved. What Mr. Whittier 
 said, she knew to be true, — " Thee will always find 
 the latchstring out ; " and when away, she knew she 
 was remembered, for Elizabeth sent her word that 
 " Greenleaf has just filled thy blue and gold vase 
 with the yellowest of flowers." 
 
 Here is a letter to her, from Mr. Whittier, as 
 early as 1853. 
 
 September 3, 1853. 
 
 My Dear Friend, — I thank thee for thy note. 
 The personal allusion would be flattering enough,
 
 C8 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 did I not know that it originated in a sad miscon- 
 ception and overestimate of one who knows himself 
 to be "no better than he shoukl be." It is a way 
 we have. We are continually investing somebody 
 or other with whatever is best in ourselves. It 
 does not follow that the objects themselves are 
 worth much. The vines of our fancy often drape 
 the ugliest stumps in the whole forest. 
 
 I am anxious to see thy little book in print.^ 
 Whatever may be its fate with the public at large, 
 I feel quite sure it will give thee a place in the best 
 minds and hearts. The best kind of fame, after 
 all. Thy friend, J. G. Whittier. 
 
 At Mr. Whittier's suggestion, she used to sub- 
 mit her work to him for criticism ; and he always 
 indicated what he considered faulty, in rhyme or 
 metre. This practical training in the art of verse- 
 making was valuable to her. She continued it for 
 many years until she felt that she ought to be more 
 self-reliant. Then she printed without consulting 
 him, and, at first, he reproved her for it. " But," 
 she said, " you have taught me all that I ought to 
 ask : why should I remain a burden on you? Why 
 should I always write with you holding my hand? 
 My conscience and my pride rebel. I will be my- 
 self, faults and all." 
 
 In 1855, he wrote, " I have said in my heart, I 
 wonder if Lucy Larcom will write to me, as she 
 proposed? I should love to have her." Their cor- 
 respondence continued until the time of his death. 
 
 1 Similitudes-
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 REFLECTIONS OF A TEACHER. 
 
 It was not Miss Larcom's regular habit to keep 
 a diary, but at certain times she recorded her 
 thoughts in private note-books. Her object in 
 doing this was to cultivate clearness of expression 
 by frequently writing, and to give definiteness to 
 her ideas by putting them down in black and white, 
 thus preserving them, either for immediate use as 
 material for letters to her friends, or for her own 
 inspection years afterwards. Long intervals of 
 time elapsed between the periods when she wrote 
 in her diaries ; so they have not the value of a con- 
 tinuous life-history, but are interesting as records 
 of phases of her thought which often reflect vividly 
 the conditions in which she lived. 
 
 The following extracts from her diary have been 
 made with the purpose of showing how she was in- 
 fluenced by the circumstances of her life, and how 
 :leeply she entered into the spirit of her intellectual 
 and political surroundings. 
 
 c 
 
 Norton, May 4, 18G0. Our talk has been of 
 the mystics again to-day. AVith all the vagaries 
 into which some of them wandered, I cannot help
 
 70 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 feeling that these men had more of the truth than 
 any of those more strictly styled philosophers. 
 Consin has a cool, patronizing way with all systems 
 that rather amuses me at tunes. What he says of 
 the relation of ])liilosophy to religion seems very 
 conceited : that, while they have been separated, 
 philosophy must now take religion by the hand, 
 and gently guide her steps to the light. The his- 
 tory of philosophy would rather show that he was 
 making a guide of the one who needed to be led ! 
 Certainly it must be so, if God is wiser than man. 
 
 May 21. Out of door studies, these past days, 
 among goldfinches, orioles, larks, brown thrushes, 
 and all the singing brotherhood ; and a course of 
 lectures on natural history, to help out the classify- 
 ing and naming. Better living than among philos- 
 ophers. 
 
 June 13. These weeks that have been spent 
 over a discussion of Eastern and Western mythol- 
 ogies, have allowed little time for reading or think- 
 ing of anything else. I have learned to value the 
 thoughts of thinkers, and to perceive the difference 
 between them and pleasant surface-writers. I ex- 
 pected to gain much from Mrs. Child's " History 
 of Religious Ideas," and I have found it full of 
 entertaining and instructive facts, told in a very 
 kind and impartial way ; but hers is not the philo- 
 sophic depth of Carlyle, nor the broad and deep 
 spiritual insight of Maurice, — the latter always 
 pours light into the windows of my soul, and makes 
 truth seem all near and clear. Mrs. C.'s work is
 
 REFLECTIONS OF A TEACHER. 71 
 
 still a most valuable one, because it makes so much 
 comprelien sible that had been shut up for the gen- 
 eral reader, and such a spirit as hers makes every- 
 thing that she writes good to read. This reading 
 and writing have imj)ressed me more fully than 
 ever before with the certainty that truth is one, 
 radiating from one source through all manner of 
 mediums, colored and distorted by all sorts of error ; 
 yet wherever a good word has been spoken, there 
 is the voice of God, whether the speaker were 
 Christian or Pagan. 
 
 June 20. After reading the addresses at the 
 Music Hall, in memory of Theodore Parker, and 
 what is said of him in the religious papers, it seems 
 to me a great relief that there is a perfect Judge 
 of human character and human life above. Neither 
 friends nor foes could know this man truly ; his 
 works will follow him, right or wrong, for he wrote 
 himself in innumerable hearts, with all the energy 
 of confidence in his own views. I did not like the 
 tone of his preaching and lecturing, — it seemed 
 to me often dogmatic, and abusive of other beliefs ; 
 certainly never very patient with what he did not 
 like. Yet the noble impulses he communicated, 
 the perfect freedom of thought which he advised, 
 cannot be without their good results. The fire will 
 try his work, as it does and will that of all human 
 workers, to prove of what sort it is. 
 
 August 12, Gardiner, Maine. Now in the seclu- 
 sion of this little bird's nest in the woods, I feel 
 easy and free, like the winds that sweep through
 
 72 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 pine and hemlock, and the birds that go singing or 
 silent from the glen to the orchard. Heartseaso 
 grows here, best of all blossoms ; I surely did not 
 bring it with me, for I was very uneasy at home. 
 
 August 14. Leisure, — is it anything to be 
 thankful for, or not ? I never do what I mean to 
 do, nor so much, as when I think my time all occu- 
 pied. This vacation is almost gone, and not one of 
 the achievements I had planned, in the way of writ- 
 ing, is executed. It is something to rest, but not 
 so much, if one feels that it is not exactly right or 
 necessary to rest ! 
 
 August 18. The prospect of a journey to the 
 mountains to-day. There is a thick fog from the 
 river, but the birds are singing through it. I can 
 scarcely let the summer go without giving me a 
 glimpse of the mountains. 
 
 August 22. Returned last night after a very 
 pleasant visit of three days. It rained on the way, 
 but it was only the cooler and more comfortable 
 traveling for that ; and when the sun came out in 
 the west just as we reached the top of a ridge 
 from which the whole long mountain chain was 
 visible on the horizon, I felt that that one view 
 was enough compensation for going, and that first 
 glimpse I shall never forget. The round summit 
 of Blue, and the bolder ridges of Saddleback and 
 Abraham, lifted themselves above the lower eleva- 
 tions that would be mountains anywhere but among 
 mountains, far off and solemn with the deepening 
 purple of sunset, and over them the sky hung, fiery
 
 BEFLECTIONS OF A TEACHER. 73 
 
 gold, intermingled with shadow. The first glimpse 
 was finer than anything afterward, though I rode 
 up the lovely valley of the Sandy River, which is 
 like a paradise, if not one, recalling ever the old 
 words of the hymn : — 
 
 " Sweet fields arrayed in living green, 
 And rivers of delight." 
 
 "What can be more beautiful than green meadow- 
 lands, bordered by forest-covered slopes, that ever 
 rise and rise, till they fade into dim blue mountain- 
 distances ? 
 
 I climbed one mountain half-way, — the bluest 
 of the blue, — and so called, by emphasis. Mount 
 Blue. It was a grand view, — the great distant 
 mountain wall, and the valleys slumbering safe in 
 its shadow. Yet the distant view is always more 
 impressive, more full of suggestions for me ; and 
 coming back to the first point of observation, I 
 hoped for a repetition of the first delight. But 
 the far-off ridges were closely veiled with mist and 
 rain, and a thunder-shower swept toward us from 
 them, across the wide valley. Yet as we turned to 
 leave, Mount Blue just lifted off his mist-cap. for a 
 few minutes, as if to say good-by ! 
 
 Altogether, it is a most charming and comfort- 
 ing picture for future remembrance : flowery moun- 
 tain-slopes, little garden patches of golden-rod, 
 white everlasting and purple willow-herb, under 
 the shade of maples, and firs, and graceful hem- 
 locks ; and glimpses of cottagers' homes on hillsides 
 and by running streams. My eyes are rested, and 
 my heart is glad.
 
 74 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 August 24. Beverly. The sail down the Kenne- 
 bec River was delightful, and I took a wicked sort 
 of pleasure in shutting myself up from the crowd 
 and enjoying it ! 
 
 August 26. Sabbath day memories and regrets 
 — how unlike everything else they are ! One thing 
 to be grateful for, in a Puritan training, is that it 
 makes one day in the week a thoughtful one, at 
 least. The old customs we may not keep up, — 
 may even regard them as foolish, — still, there is a 
 questioning as to right and wrong on this day, which 
 we must be hardened to get wholly rid of. If I 
 have lived unworthily for a week, the Sabbath 
 quietly shows me myself in her mirror. 
 
 Lately I have heard some discussion as to the 
 name and manner of keeping the day. "• The 
 Sabbath," they say, " was a Jewish mstitution, not 
 a Christian festival, such as we should keep." 
 But I believe that rest is still the noblest idea of 
 the day ; the old Sabbath was a type of Christian 
 rest ; not constrained, but free, full, peaceful ; so I 
 like not anything that disturbs the qiiict of the day. 
 
 September 17. Whether such a record as this is 
 a useful thing, or entirely useless, I begin to question. 
 I don't want to feel interested in anything which is 
 only to benefit myself, and I don't want to write 
 these trifles for other people's eyes. A journal of 
 the " subjective " kind I have always thought fool- 
 ish, as nurturing a morbid self-consciousness in the 
 writer ; and yet, alone so much as I am, it is well 
 to have some sort of a ventilator from the interior.
 
 REFLECTIONS OF A TEACHER. 75 
 
 Letter-writing is a better safety valve than a jour- 
 nal, when we write to those we can trust, and this 
 I meant to be a sort of prolonged letter, a mirror 
 of my occupations and progress, for my old friend, 
 Esther. But she, I fear, will never read it ; she is 
 on her way to a place of better occupation, and I 
 feel that the first stimulus is gone. 
 
 Shall I stop in the middle of my book? No, I 
 believe not ; for I think it will be indirectly a use- 
 ful thing, and I shall write just when I feel like it, 
 often enough to keep track of myself, and give 
 account of myself to myself. 
 
 Since I returned to school I have read — well, 
 not much ; two little works on natural history ; I 
 have begun Ruskin's fifth volume, with great inter- 
 est, and Trench on the Parables for my Sunday 
 class. " The Limits of Religious Thou2,ht " I am 
 reading with a pupil, and with it Maurice's reply, 
 "What is Revelation?" My impression of these 
 two writers, so far, is that Maurice is a much more 
 deeply religious man than Mansel ; and that the 
 latter's logic will not always sustain his footing. 
 I do not like logic in religion, — reason is not al- 
 ways logic ; reason seems to me to be the mind wide 
 open — no faculty numb or asleep ; and to that state 
 of inner being, truth must come like sunshine, and 
 the mysteries which cannot be explained will be har- 
 monized with our certain knowledge, in such light. 
 
 September 22. Morris's Poems have come to me 
 to-day, by mail. I have just glanced through the 
 book, and find myself attracted by the clearness
 
 76 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 and simplicity of the songs ; the most beautiful the 
 most familiar, as songs should be. It does not 
 strike me that any of them came from the very deep 
 places of the heart, — many of them sound as if 
 written only to please, and as if the highest aim of 
 the author was to have them pretty and unobjec- 
 tionable. I 've written things in that way myself 
 sometimes, and I don't like it. 
 
 September 26. I know I have n't regarded min- 
 isters as others do, yet it seems to me that there 
 are few " ministers " or " pastors " nowadays, — 
 real ones, — such as the apostolic times knew. A 
 "preacher" does not mean the thing, for he may 
 preach himself only. I wonder whether the rela- 
 tions between pastor and people can ever be again 
 as they have been? People are becoming their 
 own judges and guides in religious things ; this is 
 a necessity of Protestantism, I think. And yet my 
 " liberal " Mr. Maurice says that the " right of 
 jDrivate judgment " only makes every man his own 
 pope. The true idea of a church has not yet been 
 shown the world, — a visible Church, I mean, — un- 
 less it was in the very earliest times ; yes, the twelve 
 disciples bound to their Lord in love, to do his work 
 forever, — that was a church, — a Christian family. 
 But then they had no system of theology to which 
 all were expected to conform ; love was all their the- 
 ology. And then, afterwards, while they took the 
 wisest and best as teachers, and called no one Mas- 
 ter or Head but Christ, they were a true Church. 
 
 I don't believe we can look upon our ministers
 
 BEFLECTIONS OF A TEACHER. 11 
 
 as tlie early disciples did upon Paul and John, un- 
 less they have the spirit of Paul and John. The 
 ministiy is trifled with too much by ministers 
 themselves, and it sometimes seems to me as if this 
 was so, because it is made a business. 
 
 September 29. " Blessed are your eyes, for they 
 see, and your ears, for they hear." This is the bless- 
 ing of life : to be in the light and harmony of the love 
 of God and reveal it. To " know the mysteries " 
 of the kingdom of Heaven, — what is it, but to be 
 in God's universe with a soul opened, by love, to 
 truth; unto such only "it is given." Yet we have 
 hearing and vision and the spiritual sense, all of 
 us, and for the use of each, or misuse, or neglect, 
 and consequent loss, every one is to blame. Oh, 
 for a heart always opened ; to read all parables in 
 the light in which they were born ! 
 
 November 10. I have actually forgotten to 
 write for months in this book. I fear me, "my 
 heart is nae here." I have lived a. good deal in 
 the past week, and the world has been doing a great 
 business, — our country in particular. The Prince 
 has turned the heads of our democratic people, and 
 Republicans have chosen a President at last. That 
 is glorious! Freedom takes long strides in these 
 better days. The millennium is not so far off as we 
 feared. While there is so much to be lived outside, 
 who cares for the little self-life of a journal ? But I 
 never meant it to be a " subjective " one, and when 
 it has been so, it has been so because I was liviuir 
 below my ideal. Yet this shall be just the book
 
 78 LUCY LAIiCOM. 
 
 my thoughts shape from their various moods ; when 
 the thought is for myself, I will write it, and when 
 it is for another, I will write it too. 
 
 " Wliose window opened towards the rising sun." 
 
 So the happy pilgrim rested, knowing that as soon 
 as there was light anywhere, he should have the 
 first ray. Strange, that every Christian sojourner 
 should not seek a room with windows opening to 
 the dawn ! Some of them seem afraid of the sun ; 
 they choose a chamber having only a black, north- 
 erly outlook, and lie down saying, " What a dreary, 
 miserable world ! " And what wonder that they 
 should grow thin and sickly — plants of the shade 
 must ever be so ; the soul, as well as the body, 
 needs large draughts of sunshine for vigorous life. 
 
 November 27. Since I came to Beverly I have 
 been looking over " Wilhelm Meister " for the first 
 time. I am disappointed in it, and have little re- 
 spect for Goethe as a man, great as was his genius. 
 Great thoughts he had, and they shine like con- 
 stellations through the book ; artistic, no doubt he 
 was, but everything that relates to principle or 
 right feeling is terribly chaotic, it seems to me. 
 And Wilhelm is an embodiment of high-strung 
 selfishness, under a cloak of generosity and sjaon- 
 taneous good feeling. If I could despise any man, 
 it would be such a one as he. 
 
 December 9. God be thanked for the thinkers 
 of good and noble thoughts ! It wakes up all the 
 best in ourselves, to come into close contact with
 
 REFLECTIONS OF A TEACHER. 79 
 
 others greater and better in every way than we are. 
 Having just made myself the possessor of " Guesses 
 at Truth," I feel as if I had struck a new mine, or 
 were a privileged traveler into regions hitherto un- 
 known, where there is every variety of natural and 
 cultivated growth, where there are ever recurring 
 contrasts of scenery, and where even the rocks are 
 not barren, but glittering with veins of precious 
 ore. How much better these " thinking books " are 
 than any " sensation books " of any kind, prose or 
 poetry I They are the true intellectual compan- 
 ions. One does not read them, and put them by 
 on the shelf, to be read again one of these days, 
 perhaps, — but they are wanted close at hand, and 
 often. 
 
 " No spring nor summer beauty has such g^raee 
 As I have seen in an Autumnal face." 
 
 The poet Donne wrote so of the mother of " holy 
 George Herbert." It is so true ! and I have seen 
 the same. It would be worth while to live long, 
 to suffer much, to struggle and to endure, if one 
 might have such spiritual beauty blossom out of 
 furrows and wrinkles as has been made visible in 
 aged human faces. Such countenances do not 
 preach, — they are poetry, and music, and irresist- 
 ible eloquence. 
 
 Christmas, 1860. Two or three books I have 
 read lately. Mrs. Jameson's " Legends of the 
 Madonna" is full of that fine appreciation of the 
 deepest beauty, even in the imperfect creations of 
 art, where the creation had in it the breath of spirit
 
 80 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 life, so peculiar to this gifted woman. If I were 
 going to travel in Europe, I should want, next to a 
 large historical knowledge, an intimate acquaint- 
 ance with the writings of Mrs. Jameson, to appre- 
 ciate the treasures of mediaeval art. 
 
 Whittier's " Plome Ballads," dear for friendship's 
 sake, though not directly a gift from him, as were 
 some of the former volumes. I wonder if that is 
 what makes me like the songs in the " Panorama," 
 — some of them — better than anything in this new 
 volume, although I know that this is more perfect 
 as poetry. I doubt if he will ever write anything 
 that I shall like so well as the " Summer by the 
 Lakeside," in that volume : it is so full of my first 
 acquaintance with the mountains, and the ripen- 
 ing of my acquaintance with him, my poet-friend. 
 How many blessings that friendship has brought 
 me ! — among them, a glimpse into a true home, a 
 realizing of such brotherly and sisterly love as is 
 seldom seen outside of books, — and best of all, the 
 friendship of dear Lizzie, his sole home-flower, the 
 meek lily blossom that cheers and beautifies his 
 life. Heaven spare them long to each other, and 
 their friendship to me ! 
 
 But the " Ballads " are full of beauty and of a 
 strong and steady trust, which grows more firmly 
 into his character and poetry, as the years pass 
 over him. " My Psalm," with its reality, its ear- 
 nest depth of feeling, makes other like poems, 
 Longfellow's "Psalm of Life," for instance, seem 
 weak and affected. I like, too, the keenness and
 
 REFLECTIONS OF A TEACHER. 81 
 
 kindness of the Wliitefield poem, in which he has 
 preserved the memory of a Sabbath evening- walk 
 I took with him. 
 
 Dr. Croswell's poems contain many possibilities 
 of poetry, and some realities ; but there always 
 seems to me a close air, as if the church windows 
 were shut, in reading anything written by a devout 
 Episcopalian. Still, there was true Christianity in 
 the man, and it is also in the book. 
 
 December 27. To-night the telegraph reports 
 the evacuation of Fort Moultrie by the Federal 
 troops by order of the Executive, and the burning 
 of the fort. There 's something of the " spirit of 
 '76 " in the army, surely ; South Carolina having 
 declared herself a foe to the Union, how could those 
 soldiers quietly give up one of the old strongholds 
 to the enemy, even at the President's command ? 
 
 But what will the end be ? Is this secession- 
 farce to end with a tragedy ? The South will suf- 
 fer, by insurrection and famine ; there is every 
 prospect of it ; the way of transgressors is hard, 
 and we must expect it to be so. God grant that, 
 whatever must be the separate or mutual sufferings 
 of North and South, these convulsions may prove 
 to be the dying struggles of slavery, and the birth- 
 throes of liberty. 
 
 It is just about a year since " Brown of Ossa- 
 watomie " was hung in the South, for unwise inter- 
 ference with slavery. He was not wholly a martyr ; 
 there were blood-stains on his hands, though no 
 murder was in his heart. He was a brave man
 
 82 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 and a Christian, and his blood, unrighteously shed, 
 still cries to heaven from the ground. Who knows 
 but this is the beginning of the answer? But 
 that judicial murder was not the only wrong for 
 which the slaveholdino- South is now brinointj her- 
 self before the bar of judgment, before earth and 
 heaven. The secret things of darkness are coming 
 to light, and the question will be decided rightly, I 
 firmly believe. And the South is to be pitied, as 
 all hardened and blinded wrong-doers should be ! 
 I believe the North will show herself a noble foe, 
 if foe the South determines to make her.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR. 
 
 January 20, 1861. I liave run over the birth- 
 histories of the nations of Europe, in their chaotic 
 rise from bai'barism ; and have just completed a 
 bird's-eye view of Italian mediaeval history, with 
 Koeppen's aid. The present history of Italy inter- 
 ests me greatly, and I would like to be able to link 
 the present with the past. But what a debatable 
 ground it has always been, and how unsparingly it 
 has always been made mince-meat of, by all in 
 authority there ! 
 
 But all that history has revealed shows no more 
 important epoch than the one in which we are liv- 
 ins: at this moment, in our unsettled and discordant 
 Union. I hope it wiU come out plain and positive, 
 as a question of right or wrong for every man to 
 decide. It is so already, yet all will not see. So 
 I hope that the demon of slavery, that " mystery 
 of iniquity," will make his evil way evident, that 
 we may return to no vile compact with sin. 
 
 February 28. The bluebirds have come! and 
 the meadow-lark has sung over in the fields behind 
 the garden, these two or three mornings. I have 
 dreamed of spring these many nights, and now it 
 is coming — coming !
 
 84 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 What a blessing dreams are ! I have heard 
 birds sing, in bluer skies than May could show ; 
 doves have alighted on my head ; violets, such as 
 cannot be matched in any meadows for perfect tints 
 and fragrance, have blossomed at my feet ; have 
 wept for joy at the sublime beauty of Alps grander 
 than any real Alps, — which 1 would yet fain see, 
 though I shall not, with these eyes, — all this in 
 my winter dreams. Through dreams, we must 
 always believe in a deeper and more perfect beauty 
 than we know. The world is lovely, but there is a 
 lovelier, else we could not see what we do in sleep. 
 The glory of living is that life is glorious beyond 
 all our possible imaginations, — the eternal life, — 
 the "glory that shall be revealed " in us. 
 
 March 2. What does cause depression of spirits? 
 Heavy head and heavy heart, and no sufficient rea- 
 son for either, that I know of. I am out of doors 
 every day, and have nothing unusual to trouble me ; 
 yet every interv^al of thought is clouded ; there is no 
 rebound, no rejoicing as it is my nature to rejoice, 
 and as all things teach me to do. We are strange 
 phenomena to ourselves, when we will stop to gaze 
 at ourselves ; but that I do not believe in ; there 
 are pleasanter subjects, and self is a mere speck on 
 the great horizon of life. 
 
 A new volume of poems by T. B. Aldrich, just 
 read, impresses me especially with its daintiness 
 and studied beauty. There are true flashes of 
 poetry, but most carefully trimmed and subdued, 
 so as to shine artistically. I believe the best poetry
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE WAB. 85 
 
 of our times is growing too artistic ; the study is 
 too visible. If freedom and naturalness are lost out 
 of poetry, everytliing worth having is lost. 
 
 March 3. Eternal life and eternal death ; what 
 do these words mean ? This is the question that 
 eomes up again and again. It has recently been 
 brought up by those whom I am appointed to 
 instruct ; and the question with its answer, brings 
 new and fearful responsibility with every return. 
 I am more and more convinced that the idea 
 of duration is not the one that affects us most : 
 for here it has proved that those who are least 
 careful about what they are in heart and life, are 
 trying hardest to convince themselves and others 
 that the ''doctrine of eternal punishment" is not 
 true. By making themselves believe that to be 
 the all-important question, they draw off their own 
 and others' attention from the really momentous 
 one, — " Am I living the eternal life ? Is it begun 
 in me now? " 
 
 And now I see why I have questioned whether 
 it was right in me to express my own doubts of this 
 very doctrine. The final renovation of all souls, 
 their restoration to life in holiness and love, is cer- 
 tainly a hope of mine that is not without a strong 
 infusion of confidence ; but I dare not say it is a 
 belief ; because both reason and revelation have 
 left it in deep mystery ; and the expression of any 
 such belief does not seem to me likely to help 
 others much ; certainly not those who are indolent 
 or indifferent regarding the true Christian life.
 
 86 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 Then the " loss of the soul " is in plain language 
 spoken of by our Lord as possible. What can 
 that mean, but the loss of life in Him ? the loss of 
 ennobling aspirations, of the love of all good, of 
 the power of seeing and seeking truth ? And if 
 this is possible to us now, by our own choice, why 
 not forever ? — since, as free beings, our choice 
 must always be in our own power ? 
 
 The truth that we must all keep before us, in 
 order to be growing better forever, is that life 
 is love and holiness ; death, selfishness and sin ; 
 then it is a question of life and death to be grap- 
 pled with in the deep places of every soul. 
 
 March 5. I cannot let this birthday pass with- 
 out a memorial of its sun's rising and setting on 
 flower-gifts from these my girl-friends: a wreath 
 hung on my door in the morning, and a bouquet 
 left in my room at night. It brings spring to my 
 spirit earlier than I expected ; pleasant it is to 
 receive any token of love ; and gifts like these 
 come so seldom, that when they do come, I am sure 
 they mean love. And with them comes the assur- 
 ance of a deeper summer-warmth, — the arousing 
 of all high and holy feelings in the deep places of 
 the soul yet winter-sealed. " My shriveled heart " 
 shall yet " recover greenness." I could not feel 
 this " deadly cold " that sometimes pierces me, if 
 incapable of warmth. It may not be in an earthly 
 clime that my nature shall blossom out freely and 
 fully into heavenly light ; but the time will come. 
 
 Yesterday was the inauguration : we have a
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR. 87 
 
 President, a country : and we are " the Union "' 
 still, and shall so remain, our President thinks. 
 But I doubt whether the pride of slavery will ever 
 bow to simple freedom, as it must, if the self-con- 
 stituted aliens return. There is a strange new 
 chapter in the world's history unfolding to-day ; 
 we have not half read it yet. 
 
 Sabbath, April 14, 1861. This day broke upon 
 our country in gloom ; for the sounds of war came 
 up to us from the South, — war between brethren ; 
 civil war ; well may " all faces gather blackness." 
 And yet the gloom we feel ought to be the result 
 of sorrow for the erring, for the violators of na- 
 tional luiity, for those who are in black rebellion 
 against truth, freedom, and peace. The rebels 
 have struck the first blow, and what ruin they are 
 pulling down on their heads may be guessed, 
 though not yet fully foretold ; but it is plain to see 
 that a dai'k prospect is before them, since they have 
 no high principle at the heart of their cause. 
 
 It will be no pleasure to any American to remem- 
 ber that he lived in this revolution, when brother 
 lifted his hand against brother ; and the fear is, 
 that we shall forget that we are brethren still, 
 though some are so unreasonable and wander so 
 far from the true principles of national prosperity. 
 Though the clouds of this morning have cleared 
 away into brightness, it seems as if we could feel 
 the thunder of those deadly echoes passing to and 
 from Fort Sumter. But there is a right, and God 
 always defends it. War is not according to His
 
 88 LUCY LAB COM. 
 
 wish ; though it seems one of the permitted evils 
 yet. He will scatter those who delight in it, and 
 it is not too much to hope and expect that He will 
 uphold the government which has so long been 
 trying to avert bloodshed. 
 
 Another unpleasant association with this day. 
 I went to the meeting expecting and needing spirit- 
 ual food, and received only burning coals and ashes. 
 There was a sermon (not by our minister, I am 
 glad to say) to prove that Satan will be tormented 
 forever and ever ; and the stress of the argument 
 was to prove the endlessness of his punishment. 
 The text was taken from the twentieth of Revela- 
 tion, a chapter which few have the audacity to 
 explain ; but the object was to show that " eternal," 
 in its highest sense, is not so plainly taught in the 
 Bible, as " eternal " in its lowest sense, that of 
 duration. Truly, "The wisdom of men is foolish- 
 ness with God ! " — the deep and sacred truth of 
 eternal life lies hidden yet in the words of Christ, 
 for him who will understand. It seems to me 
 wrong to preach a theoretical sermon like this to 
 those who are hungering for the bread of life ; who 
 are longing to come nearer to the Saviour, and 
 receive His spirit. I think none but a young min- 
 ister would have preached so ; certainly, a warm- 
 hearted Christian could not have treated the subject 
 in that cold argumentative way. As it was, I could 
 only pity one who could so misinterpret his Master's 
 words ; he must be yet on the outer threshold of 
 the heart of Christ, if so near as that, and not,
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR. 89 
 
 like the Beloved Jolm, leaning- on His bosom. And 
 I grieved for the " hungry sheep," who looked up 
 and were not fed. But if such sermons drive all 
 hearers to the word itself, refusing human inter- 
 pretations, they may do good. Alas! We grope 
 in darkness yet ! Man is blinded to God's deep 
 meaning everywhere, in thought and in life, in reli- 
 gion and in government. The dark ages are not 
 wholly past ; nor will they be, until all fetters of 
 thought and limb are broken. 
 
 Yet, through all, the birds are singing with the 
 joy of sunshine after April rain ; and earth is beau- 
 tiful and bright, beneath the promises of spring, — 
 written on soft skies and sweet west winds. The 
 good God sits yet upon His throne of love ! 
 
 April 21. The conflict is deepening ; but thanks 
 to God, there is no wavering, no division, now, at 
 the North ! All are united, as one man ; and from 
 a peaceful, unwarlike people, we are transformed 
 into an army, ready for the battle at a moment's 
 
 warning. 
 
 The few days I have passed in Boston this week 
 are the only days in which I ever carried my heart 
 into a crowd, or hung around a company of soldiers 
 with anything like pleasure. But I felt a soldier- 
 spirit rising within me, when I saw the men of my 
 native town armed and going to risk their lives for 
 their country's sake ; and the dear old flag of our 
 Union is a thousand times more dear than ever 
 before. The streets of- Boston were almost cano- 
 pied with the stars and stripes, and the merchants
 
 90 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 festooned their shops with the richest goods of tlie 
 national colors. 
 
 And now there are rumors of mobs attacking 
 our troops, of bridges burnt, and arsenals exploded, 
 and many lives lost. The floodgates of war are 
 opened, and when the tide of blood will cease none 
 can tell. 
 
 May 6. Through the dark and lurid atmosphere 
 of war the light of " Nature's own exceeding peace" 
 still softly falls on the earth. The violets have 
 opened their blue eyes by the roadside ; the saxi- 
 frage fringes the ledges with white ; and the arbu- 
 tus, the Pilgrim's may flower, blossoms on the hills 
 away from here ; we have no hillsides for it to grow 
 upon, but I had some on May-day, from the hills 
 of Taunton. How strange the contrast between 
 these delicate blossoms and the flaring red flower 
 of war that has burst into bloom with the opening 
 of spring! 
 
 Every day brings something to stir the deep 
 places of the soul, and in the general awakening of 
 life and liberty it may be that every heart feels 
 its own peculiar sorrow and happiness more keenly. 
 There is a deeper life in every breath I draw ; and 
 messages from distant friends seem more near and 
 touching. One day, from one of the most beloved 
 and honored, comes a kind word for my poor efforts 
 at poetry ; almost a prophecy of some blessed days 
 of summer life among the mountains by and by, 
   — and a holy benediction, " God bless thee, and 
 keep thee ! " that fell upon my heart like the first
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR. 91 
 
 ray of some new and unknown morning. All life 
 seemed green and glowing with a freshened trust. 
 God is, and goodness is ; and true hearts are, for- 
 ever! There is nothing to doubt, even in these 
 dark days ! 
 
 Then, the next day, a message from dear Esther 
 (she could not write it herself) to say that she is 
 dying, and wants to hear from me again. And to 
 think that she had been drooping all these spring- 
 days, while I have been too full of occupation 
 with the stir of the times to write ! But she says 
 my words have always been good for her, and 
 surely few have blessed me by life and thought as 
 she has. Heaven will have one bond for my 
 heart, closer than any yet. I am glad that she can 
 lie down in peace, before the horrible scenes of 
 bloodshed, which only a miracle can now avert, 
 shall be enacted. 
 
 May 9. I had set myself to reading Maury's 
 "Physical Geography of the Sea," after a long de- 
 ferring ; but now that he has come out as a rank 
 rebel against his country, I cannot feel any interest 
 in his theories, ingenious as they are said to be. 
 Like poor, wise, fallen Bacon, his ideas may prove 
 something to the world, " after some years have 
 passed over," but one is not fond of being taught 
 by traitors. 
 
 May 15. A glimpse into a heart which has al- 
 ways been closed, both to God and man, — what 
 a chaos it discloses ! Yet with all the elements of 
 order there, it is like the promise of a new creation.
 
 92 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 Such a glimpse, siicli a lialf -unveiling, one has given 
 me to-day, out of a soul-deep, long-repressed long- 
 ing for " something to love ! " Ah, that sorrowful 
 need of every woman's heart, especially ; yet more 
 joyful than sorrowful, because the longing shows the 
 fulfillment possible, — yes, certain. In the heavenly 
 life, w^hich such aspirations prophesy, there is love 
 abounding, to give and to receive. And I am 
 thankful for one more to love. 
 
 May 20. Esther dead ! Gone home two days 
 before I heard or dreamed of it ! But since she 
 has gone home, — since it is only a glorious release 
 for her, — I will not let a thought of repining sully 
 the gladness I ought to share with her. It is only 
 that one who has always lived near the Holiest One 
 is now called nearer still. I have known her only 
 in Him, and there I know her and love her still. 
 
 May 22. They write to me of her funeral, of 
 the white flowers beside her head, and of her own 
 lilies of the valley strewn over her in the grave 
 by one who knew how she loved them. Everything 
 that would have made her hajspy, had her eyes been 
 open to see, and her ears to hear. They sang the 
 hymns she loved, " Rock of Ages," and " I would 
 not live alway," and "Thy will be done." And 
 my dear friend is free ! — her soul has blossomed 
 into heavenly light ! I told her once that this book 
 was for only her to see ; I do not like my thoughts 
 when I think them for myself alone ; and there is 
 no other friend who would care as she cared. Will 
 she read them now?
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE WAB. 93 
 
 May 27. This is the gala week of spring. None 
 of the early flowers have quite faded, and the apple- 
 trees are in full bloom, while elms and maples are 
 just wearing their lightest drapery of green, so 
 tardily put on. Soft breezes, sweet melody from 
 many birds, clear sunshine, not yet too warm, — 
 all things are just in that state, when, if we could 
 wisb for a standstill in nature, we should. 
 
 And Esther has been one week in lieaven ! It 
 seems to me, sometimes, as if some new charm was 
 added to cloud and sunshine, and spring blossoms, 
 since she went away ; as if it were given me to see 
 all things clearer for her clearer vision ; she would 
 speak to me, if she could. 
 
 Lectures these few days on historical women. 
 Paula, Queen Elizabeth, and Madame de Mainte- 
 non, thus far. Paula, the friend of St. Jerome, and 
 the woman whom the speaker made to illustrate 
 friendship, pleased me most, as presenting a higher 
 ideal than either of the others. Christianity gave 
 woman the privilege of a pure friendship with man ; 
 before unknown, we are told. It is one of the no- 
 blest gifts of religion, and I wish people believed in 
 it more thoroughly. But only a truly elevated and 
 chastened nature can understand real friendship, — 
 not a Platonic ideal only, though that is elevated, 
 let who will sneer at it : but a drawing of the no- 
 blest souls together, and to the Soid of souls, for 
 the highest ends. This is Christian friendship ; 
 union in Christ for all beauty, all purity, all true 
 and noble life, which He illustrated in His own
 
 94 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 glorious life and death, and of which He is now 
 the inspiring power. '' We are complete in Him." 
 
 Yes, I am sure that it is in drawing near to Him 
 that I feel the loveliness of such beauty as that 
 into which the world now blossoms ; for is not He 
 the Lord of nature, and also my Lord and Friend ? 
 And through His great love for us, I see the ideal 
 of all true human love. " As I have loved you," 
 He said, " so must we love each other, with tender- 
 ness, forbearance, generosity, and self-sacrifice." 
 
 Such friendship is possible, is eternal ; and it is 
 almost the most precious thing in the soul's inheri- 
 tance. 
 
 June 12. I have been free for a few days, and 
 have taken a journey, — a flying tour among some 
 of my friends. How it quieted me, to be with my 
 peace-loving f I'iends in these wild times of war ! 
 
 There are some friends whose presence is encour- 
 agement in all that is good, whom to look uj)on is 
 to grow stronger for the truth. There are homes, 
 too, over which saintly memories hang, making all 
 within and around them sacred, blending earth 
 with heaven by holy sympathies. How blessed I 
 am, to know such friends, to enter such homes as 
 these ! Sometimes I can truly say, " My cup run- 
 neth over ! " 
 
 June 14. Still the same old weariness of study ; 
 " weariness of the flesh." Books are treasures, but 
 one may work among treasures even, digging and 
 delving, till there is little enjoyment in them. 
 And the greater pain is, that, by becoming numb
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR. 95 
 
 to the beautiful and true, in any form, one does 
 not feel its power entirely, anywhere. So I felt 
 this morning, which I stole from my books. I sat 
 on a ledge in a distant field, all around me beauti- 
 ful with June, and no sight or sound of human 
 care in sight. I sat there like a prisoner, whose 
 chains had dropped for the moment, but the 
 weight and pain of them lingered still. Yet I 
 began to feel what it is to be free, and how sweet 
 and soothing nature always is, before I rose to 
 return. I think it would not take me long: to o^et 
 accustomed to freedom, and to rejoice in it with 
 exceeding joy. 
 
 June 23. Weary, weary, too weary to listen 
 patiently to the heavy Sabbath bells ; far too 
 weary to sit in the church and listen to loud words 
 and loud singing. And my brain is too tired to 
 let my heart feel the beauty of this quiet day. I 
 only know that the balm and beauty of June are 
 around me, without realizing it much. But rest 
 will come soon, up among the mountains with 
 friends who love noise and confusion as little as I 
 do. I shall be at peace. A blessing will come to 
 us, among the hills. 
 
 July 4. Crackers all around the house at night. 
 Fire-crackers, torpedoes, pistols, and bell-ringing, 
 are enough to make one sick of one's country, if 
 this is the only way of showing one's patriotism. 
 I am sure, as I lay last night, nervously wide 
 awake, with every shot startling and paining me 
 as if it had really gone through my brain, I felt
 
 96 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 more belligerently disposed toward the young pa- 
 triots than toward the Southern rebels! But if 
 there is no other way of nursing an interest in 
 free institutions among these juvenile republicans, 
 there's nothing to be done but to endure the 
 " Fourth of Jvdy " once a year, for the general 
 
 good. 
 
 August 1. Yesterday I visited the residence 
 of the late Hon. Daniel Webster, at Marshfield. 
 There was much that was interesting to see in the 
 great man's home; I think the two things that 
 pleased me most were the portraits of his mother, 
 and his black cook, or housekeeper. The latter 
 was a fine painting, the face so full of intelligence, 
 gratitvide, and all good feelings ; and there was an 
 evidence of the true sympathy and home comfort 
 between master and servant, if it is well to use 
 those words, in the picture itself, the care with 
 which it was painted, as well as the speaking face. 
 The other was simply an old-fashioned cut profile, 
 in black outline, and underneath it the words, " My 
 excellent mother — D. Webster." 
 
 Out of doors, the wonderfvil old elm was the 
 greatest attraction, with its branches sweeping the 
 ground, and making an arbor and a cathedral at 
 once, before the threshold. Webster himself — 
 but it is not well to call up anything but pleasant 
 memories of the dead ; and these do linger about 
 the home he loved. What the nation thinks of 
 him may be recorded elsewhere. 
 
 August 2. I visited Plymouth, placed my foot
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE WAB. 97 
 
 on the memorable " Plymouth Eock," of the Pil- 
 grims (now so enclosed and covered as to leave 
 scarcely space sufficient for my large foot to rest 
 upon), looked at Mayflower curiosities in the hall, 
 books, shoes, and fans of the olden time, and more 
 especially pewter platters, which, judging from 
 some ancient will I looked over in the Court 
 House, were the most important personal property 
 of the Puritans. John Alden's well-worn Bible 
 was open at the date of publication, 1620, so he 
 had it new for his westward voyage ; I wondered 
 whether it was the gift of some friend left behind, 
 or his own purchase. Miles Standish's long rapier 
 was scarcely more interesting to me than the big 
 kettle labeled with his name, which might have 
 supplied the colony with dinner, judging from its 
 size. Some old documents relating to the Quakers 
 caught my attention ; one especially, wherein Win- 
 throp demurred from signing his name to a report 
 of Commissioners, wherein this troublesome sect 
 were adjudged worthy to be put to death for their 
 " cursed opinions and devilish tennets," — Win- 
 throp signed, leaving testimony beside his name, 
 that it was " as a querry, not as an act." Coming 
 back to George Fox's journal, which I had bor- 
 rowed for vacation reading, I could not but smile 
 at the difference a hundred or two years will make ; 
 I can admire both Puritan and Quaker for their 
 sincerity, and only wish they could have under- 
 stood each other better. There is no defense for 
 the persecution of the " Fathers," except the im-
 
 98 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 perfection of human nature, and there is only this 
 for the misguided ways into which the Qualiers 
 were led, by mistaking their own fancies for the 
 " inner light." Better death on both sides (for 
 what each held to be truth) than indifference to 
 truth. And, stepping among the bones of the Pil- 
 grims, on Burying Hill, and looking away over the 
 waves which brought them and freedom to New 
 England, and so to the Union, I could not but 
 contrast the struggle of that day with the j)resent 
 war for liberty against oppression. It is, in real- 
 ity, the " Old Colony " against the " Old Domin- 
 ion," or rather, the latter against the former, aris- 
 tocracy against the republic. God will prosper us 
 now as then ; but perhaps we are to be brought as 
 low before Him as they were, before our cause can 
 be victorious. 
 
 August 3. Fishing on the " Indian Pond " in 
 Pembroke half the day, catching sunfish and 
 shiners, red perch and white ; my first exjjloits of 
 the kind. It is a pleasant day to remember, for 
 the green trees and the blue waters, for lilies wide 
 awake on the bosom of the waters in the mornins: 
 sunshine, for fresh breezes, and for pleasant com- 
 pany. 
 
 August 11. At Amesbury, — with two of the 
 dearest friends my life is blessed with, — dear 
 quiet-loving Lizzie, and her poet brother. I love 
 to sit with them in the still Quaker worship, and 
 they love the free air and all the beautiful things 
 as much as they do all the good and spiritual.
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR. 99 
 
 The harebells nodding in shade and shine on the 
 steep banks o£ the Merrimae, the sparkle of the 
 waters, the blue of the sky, the balm of the air, 
 and the atmosphere of grave sweet friendliness 
 which I breathed for one calm " First-day " are 
 never to be forgotten. 
 
 Au2Xist 20. One of the stillest moonlight even- 
 ings^ — not a sound heard but the bleat of a lamb, 
 and the murmur of the river; all the rest a cool, 
 broad, friendly mountainous silence. Peace comes 
 down with the soft clouds and mists that veil the 
 hills; the Pemigewasset sings all night in the 
 moonshine, and 1 lie and dream of the beauty of 
 those hill-outlines around AVinnipiseogee, that I 
 looked upon with so satisfied a greeting from the 
 car window on my way hither. The mountains do 
 not know their own beauty anywhere but by a lake- 
 side. So it is: beauty sets us longing for other 
 beauty ; the clouds moving above their summits 
 suggest possibilities that earthly summits, at their 
 grandest, can never attain. And no dream can 
 suggest the possibilities of the beautiful that " shall 
 be revealed." 
 
 August 24. " The eye is not satisfied with see- 
 ing, and the ear with hearing," and one can never 
 tire of the vision of mountain landscapes, and the 
 quiet song of summer rivers. Every day since I 
 have been here in this beautiful village of Camp- 
 ton, I have driven through some new region ; 
 sometimes into the very heart of the hills, where 
 nothing is to be seen but swelling slopes on every
 
 100 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 side, hills wliicli have not quite attained mountain- 
 hood, but which would be mountains anywhere but 
 in the "Granite State;" and sometimes out into 
 the interval openings of the river ; with new views 
 of " Alps on Alps " on the northern horizon, the 
 gate of the Franconia Notch opening dimly afar 
 with its mountain haystacks piled beside it. It is 
 rest to soul and body to be among these mountains ; 
 one thing only is lacking ; the friends I had hoped 
 to see here are not with me. But too much joy 
 is not to be looked for ; let me hope that they 
 are among scenes more beautiful, and with dearer 
 friends than I. Yet how delightful it would have 
 been, to be with the best friends, among the most 
 beautiful scenes. 
 
 August 25. I am enjoying the society of my 
 old friend and former associate teacher. She is 
 more gifted than I, in most ways, and it is pleas- 
 ant to talk to some one who, you take it for granted, 
 has a clearer understanding, and deeper insight, 
 and more adequate expression than yourself. 
 
 August 28. Yesterday a rare treat ; a ride to 
 Waterville (to the " end of the wood " as they 
 speak of it here) in a three-seated open wagon. 
 I wish they would have only open ones for moun- 
 tain travel. 
 
 September 5. Why do I not love to be near the 
 sea better than among the mountains ? Here is 
 my home, if birthplace makes home. But no, it 
 is not my natural preference ; I believe I was born 
 longing after the mountains. And rivers and lakes
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR. 101 
 
 are better to me than the ocean. I remember how 
 beautiful the Merrimac looked to me in childhood, 
 the first true river I ever knew ; it opened upon my 
 sight and wound its way through my heart like 
 a dream realized ; its harebells, its rocks, and its 
 lapids, are far more fixed in my memory than any- 
 thing about the sea. Yet the vastness and depth 
 and the changes of mist and sunshine are gloriously 
 beautiful ; I know and feel their beauty. Still, I 
 admire it most in glimpses ; a bit of blue between 
 the hills, only a little more substantial than the sky, 
 and a white sail flitting across it ; or when it is high- 
 tide calm, — one broad, boundless stillness, — then 
 there is rest in the sea, but it never rests me like 
 the strong silent hills ; they bear me up on their 
 summits into heaven's own blue eternity of peace. 
 But is it right to wrap one's own being in this 
 mantle of peace, while the country is ravaged by 
 war ? — its garments rolled in blood, brother fight- 
 ing against brother to the death? The tide of 
 rebellion surges higher and higher, and there is no 
 sadder proof that we are not the liberty-loving 
 people that we used to call ourselves, than to learn 
 that there are traitors in the secret councils of the 
 nation, in forts defended by our own bravest men ; 
 among women, too : " Sisters ! oh, Sisters ! Shame 
 d' ladies ! " A disloyal woman at the North, with 
 everything woman ought to hold dear at stake in 
 the possible fall of this government, — it is too 
 shameful ! I hope every one such will be held in 
 " durance vile " until the war is over.
 
 102 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 But will it end until the question is brought to 
 its true issue, — liberty or slavery ? I doubt it : 
 and I would rather the war should last fifty years, 
 than ever again make the least compromise with 
 slavery, that arch-enemy o£ all true prosperity, that 
 eating sin o£ our nation. Rather divide at once, 
 rather split into a thousand pieces, than sink back 
 into this sin ! 
 
 The latest news is of the capture of the Hat- 
 teras Forts, a great gain for us, and a blight to 
 privateering at the South; — with a rumor of "Jeff 
 Davis's " death, which nobody believes because it is 
 so much wished. Yet to his friends he is a man, 
 and no rebel. War is a bitter curse, — it forbids 
 sympathy, and makes us look upon our enemies as 
 scarcely human ; and we cannot help it, when our 
 foes are the foes of right. 
 
 Norton, September 8. Am I glad for trials, for 
 disappointments, for opportunities for self-sacrifice, 
 for everything God sends ? Ah ! indeed I do not 
 know ! How many times, when we say, " Try me, 
 and know my heart," the answer is, ' Ye know 
 not what ye ask ! " And I know not why, in some 
 states of mind and body, what seems a very little 
 trouble (or would, if told another), should be so 
 oppressive. 
 
 But " little," and " great," in the world's vocab- 
 ulary, are very different terms from what they 
 are in individual experience ; and submission, and 
 grateful acquiescing obedience to divine will, are 
 to be learned by each in his own capacity. Two
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR. 103 
 
 weeks ago, I was saying over to myself, every day, 
 as if it were a new thought, Keble's lines, — 
 
 " New treasures still, of countless price, 
 God will provide for sacrifice." 
 
 And as those words kept recurring, as if whispered 
 by a spirit, I thought I should be glad to have my 
 best treasures to give for sacrifice, to make others 
 happy with what was most precious to me. And 
 as my way seemed uncertain, and for a day or two 
 I knew not whether to move or to sit still, I said, 
 " Lead me ! Behold the handmaid of the Lord ; 
 let it be unto me according to Thy will, — only let 
 me do nothing selfishly." And the answer came 
 in the withdrawal of a blessing from me ; no doubt 
 with purposes of greater blessing to some one, some- 
 where and somehow ; and I am only half recon- 
 ciled as yet. Shall I ever believe that God knows 
 best, and does what is best for me, and for us all ? 
 It is easy enough in theory, but these great and 
 little trials tell us the truth about ourselves, — 
 show us our insincerity. And now I close this 
 record, which has been my nearest companion for 
 so many months. Esther is gone. Is there any 
 friend who cares enough for me just as I am, to 
 keep it in memory of me ? Or had I better bury 
 it from my own eyes and all others' ? It may be 
 good for me to read the record of myself as I have 
 been, — cheerful or morbid, — and of what I have 
 read, thought, and done, wisely or unwisely. The 
 " Country Parson " thinks a diary a good thing ; 
 and I do too, in many ways, but I would rather
 
 104 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 write for a friend's kindly eyes than for my own : 
 even about myself. Therefore letters are to me a 
 more genial utterance than a journal, and I would 
 write any journal as if for some one who could un- 
 derstand me fully, love me, and have patience with 
 me through all. I do not know if now there is any 
 such friend for me ; yet dear friends I have, and 
 more and more precious to me, every year. If 
 these were my last words, I would set them down 
 as a testimony to the preciousness of human friend- 
 ships ; dearer and richer than anything else on 
 earth. By them is the revelation of the divine in 
 the human ; by them heaven is opened, truth is 
 made clear, and life is worth the living. So have 
 I been blessed, drawn heavenward by saintly mes- 
 sengers in the garb of mortality. So shall it be 
 forever, for true love is — eternal, it is life itself. 
 
 September 12. Is it always selfish to yield to 
 depression? Can one help it, if the perspective of 
 a coming year of lonely labor seems very long ? No. 
 I shall not be alone ; I shall feel the sympathy of 
 all the good and true, though apart from them ; and 
 though I cannot come very near to any under this 
 roof, yet to all I can come nearer than I think I 
 can. And by and by these strange restless yearn- 
 ings will be stilled ; I shall quiet my soul in the 
 peace of God. He has said, " I will never leave 
 thee nor forsake thee ! " Oh ! what is any wo- 
 man's life worth without the friendship of the One 
 ever near, the only divine? 
 
 Yes, I will make my work my friend. My trials,
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR. 105 
 
 my vexations, my cares, shall speak good words to 
 me, and I will not blind my eyes to the beauty 
 close at hand, because o£ the lost glory of my 
 dreams. I wish I could be more to all these young 
 glad beings, — it is not in me to touch the chords 
 of many souls at once, but I will enlarge my sym- 
 l^athies. 
 
 October 5, 1861. This first week of October, 
 this month of months, shall not pass without some 
 record of its beauty. Norton woods and Norton 
 sunsets are the two redeeming features of the place ; 
 as its levelness is its bane. What is it in us that 
 refuses to love levels ? Is it that there is no search- 
 ing and toiling for anything, up cool heights and 
 down in sheltered hollows ? 
 
 These splendidly tinted maples before my win- 
 dow would be a hundred-fold more splendid if lifted 
 up among the hemlocks and pines of the mountain- 
 sides. Oh ! how magnificent those New Hampshire 
 hills must be now, in the sunset of the year! 
 
 The place is a level, and boarding-school life is 
 a most wearisome level to me, yet flowers spring 
 up, and fruits grow in both. We are to welcome 
 " all that makes and keeps us low ; " yet it seems to 
 me as if it would be good for me to ascend oftener 
 to the heights of being ; I fear losing the power and 
 the wish to climb. 
 
 Let us say we are struggling to put down slavery, 
 and we shall be strong. 
 
 October 8. Yesterday two letters came to me, 
 each from a friend I have never seen, yet each with
 
 106 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 a flower-like glow and perfume that made my heart 
 glad. And at evening a graceful little basket of 
 fruit was left in my room, and this morning a 
 bunch of fringed gentians, blue with the thought- 
 fulness of the sky that hangs over the far solitary 
 meadows, the last answer from earth to heaven 
 from the frosty fields. 
 
 October 11. Rain : and just one of those dreary 
 drizzling rains which turn one in from the outer 
 world upon one's own consciousness, — a most un- 
 healthy pasture land for thought, in certain states 
 of mind and body. Just how far we should live in 
 self-consciousness, and how far live an outside life, 
 or rather, live in the life of others, is a puzzle. 
 Without something of an inner experience, it is not 
 easy to enter into other lives, to their advantage ; 
 some self-knowledge is necessary, to keep us from 
 intruding upon others ; but it is never good to make 
 self the centre of thought. 
 
 October 13. George Fox's journal is a leaf from 
 a strange chapter of the world's history : from the 
 history of religion. If a plain man should come 
 among us now, asking leave of none to speak, but 
 " testifying " in religious assemblies to the reality 
 of the inward life of light and peace in Christ, his 
 blunt and simple ways might be unpleasing to 
 many, but every scoffer would look on, more with 
 wonder than with anger. Many, I am sure, would 
 welcome such a voice of sincerity and " livingness," 
 sounding through the outward services of religion. 
 The days of religious persecution can scarcely re
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE WAB. 107 
 
 turn again ; nor, it is to be hoped, the days o£ those 
 strange phenomena which so irritated our ancestors ; 
 men walking as " signs " to the people, declaring 
 their dreams to be visions from God, and uttering 
 wild, unmeaning prophecies for insisiration. How 
 hard it is to learn what " true religion and un- 
 defiled" is I Life is a better word for this univer- 
 sal bond than religion. And we shall see, some- 
 time, that it is only by the redemption of all our 
 powers, all that is in us and in the outward world, 
 that we are truly " saved." We must receive the 
 true light through and through, we must keep our 
 common sense, our talents, our genius, just the 
 same ; — only that light must glow through all, to 
 make all alive. And when home, and friendships, 
 and amusements, and all useful and beautiful 
 thoughts and things are really made transparent 
 with that divine light, when nothing that God has 
 given us is rejected as "common or unclean," the 
 ''new heaven and the new earth" will have been 
 created, and we shall live in our Creator and Re- 
 deemer. 
 
 The great difference between the early Quakers 
 and the Puritans seems to me to be that the for- 
 mer had larger ideas of truth, deeper and broader 
 revelations, yet mixed with greater eccentricities, 
 as might be expected. The Puritans were most 
 anxious for a place where they could worship undis- 
 turbed, as their consciences dictated ; the Quakers 
 were most desirous that the Word of Life should 
 be spoken everywhere, — the Light be revealed
 
 108 . LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 to all. Each made serious mistakes, — what else 
 could we expect, from the best that is human? 
 And the errors of both were, in great part, the 
 errors of the age, — intolerance and fanaticism. 
 
 October 12. How refreshing the clear cold air 
 is, after the summer-like fogs and rains we have 
 had! I love the cold; the northern air is strength- 
 ening ; it has the breath of the hills in it, the 
 glow of Auroral lights, and the purity of the eter- 
 nal snows. There is little of the south in my 
 nature ; the north is my home ; Italy and the trop- 
 ics will do for dream excursions ; I should long 
 for the sweeping winds of the hillsides, if I were 
 there. 
 
 October 15. The beauty of this morning was 
 wonderful ; something in the air made me feel like 
 singing. I thought my weariness was all gone ; but 
 leaning over books brought it back. After school 
 four of us rode off in the wagon through the woods ; 
 and delighted ourselves with the sunset, the katy- 
 dids, and the moonlight. 
 
 October 22. I heard Charles Sumner on the 
 Rebellion : my first sight and hearing of the great 
 anti-slavery statesman. He was greeted with tre- 
 mendous applause, and eveiy expression of opposi- 
 tion to slavery was met with new cheers. He does 
 not seem to me like a man made to awaken enthusi- 
 asm ; a great part of his address was statistical, and 
 something we all knew before, — the long prepara- 
 tion of this uprising of the rebels ; and his manner 
 was not that of a man surcharged with his subject,
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR. 109 
 
 but of one who had thoroughly and elegantly pre- 
 pared himself to address the people. At this time 
 we are all expecting orators to speak as we feel, — 
 intensely ; perhaps it is as w^ell that all do not 
 meet our expectations. One idea which he pre- 
 sented seemed to me to be worth all the rest, and 
 worth all the frothy spoutings for " Union " that 
 we hear every day ; it was that our battalions must 
 be strengthened by ideas, by the idea of freedom. 
 That is it. Our men do not know what they are 
 fighting for ; freedom is greater than the Union, 
 and a Union, old or new, with slavery, no true 
 patriot will now ask for. May we be saved from 
 that, whatever calamities we may endure ! 
 
 The ride to and from Boston has a new picture 
 since summer : the camp at Readville, just under 
 the shadow of the Milton hills. It is a strik- 
 ing picture, the long array of white tents, the sol- 
 diers marching and countermarching, and the hills, 
 tinted with sunset and autumn at once, looking 
 down upon the camping ground. Little enough 
 can one realize what war is, who sees it only in its 
 picturesque aspect, who knows of it only by the 
 newspapers, by knitting socks for soldiers, and 
 sewing bed-quilts for the hospitals. I should give 
 myself in some more adequate way, if we were defi- 
 nitely struggling for freedom ; for there is more for 
 women to do than to be lookers-on. 
 
 October 27. Looking out on the clouds at sun- 
 set, the thought of God as constantly evolving 
 beauty from His own being into all created forms,
 
 110 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 struck me forcibly, as tlie right idea of our lives ; 
 that, like Him, we should be full of all truth and 
 love, and so grow into beauty ourselves, and impart 
 loveliness to all we breathe upon, or touch. Inspira- 
 tion from Him is all we have to impart in blessing 
 to others. 
 
 What is the meaning of these moods and states 
 that fetter some of us so? I have seen life just as 
 I see it now, and been glad in it, while for many 
 months all things have brought me a nightmare- 
 feelingf that I could not shake off. I know it is the 
 same world, the same life, the same God ; I do not 
 doubt Him, nor the great and good ends that He 
 is working out for all ; yet nothing wears its old 
 delight. 
 
 October 30. " And with a child's delight in 
 simple things." That I have not lost all this, I 
 felt to-day, in receiving a note from an unknown 
 person, — from one who had read some poems of 
 mine in childhood, and now, a woman, bears some- 
 thing not unworthy the name of poet ; to hear some 
 new voice speaking to me in this way, as a friend, 
 is pleasant to me. I have written as I have felt, 
 in my verses ; they have been true words from my 
 deepest life, often ; and I am glad whenever they 
 call forth a sincere answer, as now ; — one word 
 of real appreciation repays me for pages of mere 
 fault-finding. Yet a kind fault-finder is the best 
 of friends. 
 
 What is the meaning of "gossip ? " Does n't it 
 originate with sympathy, an interest in one's neigh*
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR. Ill 
 
 bor, degenerating into idle curiosity and love of 
 tattling? Which is worse, this habit, or keeping- 
 one's self so absorbed intellectually as to forget the 
 sufferings and cares of others, to lose sympathy 
 through having too much to think about ? 
 
 October 31. I must hurry my mind, when I 
 have to press ancient history into a three-months' 
 course, and keep in advance of my class in study, 
 with rhetoric and mental philosophy requiring a 
 due share of attention besides, and the whole school 
 to be criticised in composition and furnished with 
 themes. 
 
 November 5. Governor Andrew's proclamation 
 was a very touching one. Thanksgiving will be a 
 sad day this year, yet a more sacred day than ever. 
 I read his allusion to the Potomac, as now a sacred 
 river to us, since the blood of our soldiers had 
 mingled with its waters ; and we felt that one 
 throb of patriotism unites us all, however we must 
 suffer. 
 
 November 7. Fremont is removed! It seems 
 too bad, for none could awaken enthusiasm as he 
 did, everywhere. And yet military law is all that 
 holds us up now, and we have to trust blindly that 
 the rulers are right. It may prove to be so, but 
 to withdraw him when within a few miles of the 
 enemy seems too hard. We shall respect him all 
 the more, to see him bearing it nobly for his coun- 
 try's sake. 
 
 November 14. The best news for us since the 
 war began has come within a day or two ; and it is
 
 112 LJJCY LAECOM. 
 
 confirmed. Beaufort, S. C, is taken by a federal 
 fleet, and the secessionists are in real consternation. 
 All agree that this is a decisive blow, and if we 
 can maintain our position, the war will end speed- 
 ily. But after that, there will be the same ques- 
 tion to settle — " Are we one country or not ? " 
 We shall not be any more agreed than we were 
 before, until slavery is abolished. The idea that 
 the negroes are attached to the " institution " is 
 well shown up now, when two hundred slaves, the 
 property of one man in the very heart of slavedom, 
 hasten at once to board our war steamers for pro- 
 tection ; and when their masters vainly try to whip 
 them before them in their retreat. If now our 
 government undertakes to cultivate cotton by free 
 labor of colored men, it will be a grand step towards 
 the general liberation. And if thus the South can 
 be made to honor labor, we may by and by be 
 reunited in spirit ; for that is the element of separa- 
 tion. We are carried onward in a way we little 
 know, and it is impossible not to rejoice when we 
 feel ourselves borne by a mighty and loving Power 
 towards a gloriovis goal. 
 
 November 18. Much of our Christianity is not 
 of a sufficiently enlarged type to satisfy an educated 
 Hindoo ; not that Unitarianism is necessary, for 
 that system has but a surface-liberalism which can 
 become very hard, and finally very narrow, as its 
 history among us has often proved. It is not a 
 system at all that we want : it is Christ, the " wis- 
 dom of God and the jDower of God," Christ, the
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR. 113 
 
 loving, creating, and redeeming friend of the world, 
 Christ, whose large, free being enfolds all that 
 is beautiful in nature and in social life ; and all 
 that is strong and deep and noble in the sanctuary 
 of every living soul. When Christians have truly 
 learned Christ, they can be true teachers. 
 
 November 24. Thanksgiving is over ; I have 
 been to Beverly and returned. I am glad they 
 wanted me so much, for I should not have gone 
 without ; and in this place there is little in harmony 
 with our best home festival. Our governor's pro- 
 clamation was of the true Puritan stamp ; and the 
 day was one to be kept religiously, in view of our 
 present national troubles, and of the strong Power 
 that is bearing us through and over them. We 
 are sure that God is on our side ; and one of the 
 thinsrs to be most thankful for is that the desire 
 for the liberation of the slave is becoming univer- 
 sal. Our armies, that began to fight for Union 
 alone, now see that Union is nothing without free- 
 dom, and when this Northern heart is fully inspired 
 with that sentiment the Northern hand will strike 
 a decisive blow ; such a blow as only the might of 
 right can direct. 
 
 November 25. The first snow ! Light and thick 
 as swan's-down, it wraps the shivering bosom of 
 mother earth. Last night I went to sleep with an 
 uncurtained window before me, and the still, bright 
 stars looking in ; I awoke to find the air dim and 
 heavy with snow, and all the treetops bending in 
 graceful gratitude ; and to think aloud the lines, —
 
 114 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 " Oh ! if our souls were but half as white 
 As the beautiful snow that fell last night ! " 
 
 I do not like this vague kind o£ unrest, and tliis 
 dissatisfaction with myself which returns so often. 
 I am willing" to be dissatisfied, but I want to know 
 exactly with what, that I may mend. I believe the 
 trouble partly is that I do not, cannot, love very 
 much the jieople that I see oftenest. Their 
 thoughts and ways are so different from mine I 
 cannot comfortably walk with them. It seems to 
 me as if we were like travelers on the same jour- 
 ney, but in paths wide apart ; and we can only 
 make one another hear by effort and shouting. 
 Whether this is wrong, or simply one of the things 
 that cannot be helped, I cannot clearly see ; but I 
 am afraid that I am too willing to excuse myself 
 for so doino;. 
 
 November 26. The last day of school ; my classes 
 all examined, and to-morrow we scatter, to gather 
 ourselves together again in two weeks. I am not 
 sure whether I like or dislike these frequent 
 changes ; on the whole I think I like them ; for 
 they break up the monotony, and then one does get 
 so totally glued to the manner of school life : there 
 is no better name for the cohesive power that makes 
 us one household for the time. I do not believe it 
 possible (for me, at least, and I doubt whether it 
 is for any woman) to have quite a home feeling, 
 among the many living together, in a place like 
 this. There is not expansive power enough in me 
 to take in all.
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR. 115 
 
 Beverly, December. The two weeks of vacation 
 are nearly over, and I have done nothing but sew. 
 I had planned to read, and paint, and walk, and 
 rest ; but things are as they are, and one cannot 
 go in tatters. I like to be somewhat troubled and 
 absorbed in the necessities of life, once in a ivhile; 
 it is rather pleasant than otherwise to feel that 
 something urgently requires my attention ; and then 
 this is the way to realize how three fourths of the 
 inhabitants of this world live to eat, drink, and 
 wear clothes. 
 
 December 13. Vacation is over ; and here I am 
 at Norton again, not so fully awake and in earnest 
 about school work as I wish I was. 
 
 My whole life has lost the feeling of reality ; I 
 cannot tell why. Alike in the city, by the sea- 
 shore, and here on the levels of this now leafless 
 flat-land, I feel as if I were " mo\dng about in 
 worlds unrealized." I know well enough the theory 
 of life ; what principles must sustain me ; what 
 great objects there are to live for ; and still there 
 remains the same emptiness, the same wonder in 
 everything I do. I feel as I imagine the world 
 might have felt, when going through some of its 
 slow transitions from chaos into habitable earth, — 
 waiting for sunshine, and bursting buds, and run- 
 ning rivers. I suppose I am not ready for full life 
 yet. 
 
 December 16. To-day there are rumors of a pos- 
 sible war with England, on account of the affair of 
 Mason and Slidell, now prisoners in Boston harbor.
 
 116 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 It will be an outi-age on humanity, a proof that 
 England's pompous declamations against slavery 
 are all hypocritical, if this should be done ; for all 
 good authorities have declared that a war on this 
 account would never be, unless a pretext for war 
 was wanted. Perhaps Providence intends that this 
 shall be brought out definitely as a struggle for 
 principles ; I think the nation and the army need 
 some such lesson, and they will not learn it unless 
 it is made very plain. 
 
 December 22. I have found what are to be my 
 two books of Bible stud}^, — my two Sabbath books 
 for the term. They are Neander's " History of the 
 Church," and Conybeare and Howson's "Life of 
 St. Paul." I have commenced them both, and find 
 that satisfaction in them that is only met with by 
 coming in contact with a character, — gifted, schol- 
 arly and Christian. 
 
 How I should like to live a free life with nature 
 one year through ! out in the bracing winds, the 
 keen frosty air, and over the crackling snowcrust, 
 wherever I would ; and then in smnmer, seek the 
 mountains or the sea, as I chose ; no study, no 
 thoughts, but what came as a thing of course ; no 
 system, except nature's wild ways, which have al- 
 ways their own harmony, evident enough when one 
 enters into them, though understood by no mere 
 observer. 
 
 December 28. A pretty table found its way into 
 my room Christmas morning, a gift contributed 
 from two classes : I was half sorry and half glad
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR. 117 
 
 to receive it ; I don't think I appi'eciate this kind 
 of a present — it represents so many persons, some 
 vaguely and some clearly fixed in memory — so 
 much as a simpler token from the heart of one 
 friend. And yet I feel the kindness which prompted 
 the gift, and am grateful for it, I am sure. 
 
 How ashamed one is obliged to be just now 
 of the " mother country"! Ste2>mother Country 
 England ought to be called, for her treatment of us 
 in our trouble. It is hard to believe that all she has 
 said against slavery was insincere, and that she 
 would really like to see the slave-power established 
 and flourishing on the ruins of our free Republic ; 
 but her actions say so. 
 
 Yet we are not guiltless ; not wholly purged from 
 the curse yet. The army is not entirely anti-sla- 
 very in principles ; and we cannot look for success, 
 nor wish it, but for the sake of freedom.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 INTELLECTUAL EXPERIENCES. 
 
 January 19, 1862. How liard it is to know 
 anything' of history, to learn enough to feel at all 
 competent to teach! I said I would look through 
 Gibbon, but I had hardly reached the times of 
 Julian, before my class must be hurrying beyond 
 Charlemagne, and I must turn to French histories 
 to help them along. Then, between de Bonnechose 
 and Sir James Stephen, with the various writers on 
 the Middle Ages, which must be consulted for the 
 history of the feudal system, free cities, and the 
 Papacy, comes in the remembrance of my Bible 
 class in the early history of the church, and I must 
 give some hours to Neander ! Meanwhile, another 
 class is reading Shakespeare, and I want them to be 
 somewhat critical, and must therefore read, myself; 
 while yet another class in Metaphysics are begin- 
 ning the history of philosophy, and I want them to 
 know something about Plato, and the Alexandrian 
 schools, and knowing very little myself I must find 
 out something first. So I bring to my room the 
 volumes containing the " Timaeus " and the " Re- 
 public;" but in the midst of it, I remember that 
 there are some compositions to be corrected, that I 
 may be ready for the new ones Monday morning.
 
 INTELLECTUAL EXPERIENCES. 119 
 
 This is pretty much where Saturday night finds 
 me, and so the weeks go on, this winter. I am glad 
 to be busy, but I dislike to be superficial. Now, 
 if I could teach only, history, I should feel as 
 though I might hoj)e to do something. Girls will 
 be ill-educated, until their teachers are allowed the 
 time and thought which teachers of men are ex- 
 pected to take. 
 
 January 22. I am trying to get an idea which is 
 rolling in grand chaos through my mind into shape 
 for a composition theme for my first class this 
 afternoon. It is the power of the soul in moulding- 
 form, — from the great Soul of the universe, down 
 to lower natures, — down to animal and vegetable 
 life. Plato's doctrine of ideas is the only starting- 
 point I can think of; some thoughts of Sweden- 
 borg's will help ; then Lavater and the Physiologists 
 and Psychologists. But I want them to use it 
 practically ; to take particular persons, features, 
 shape, gait, manner, voice, life ; and then observe 
 closely how beauty develops itself in flowers, 
 leaves, pebbles, into infinite variety, yet according 
 to invariable laws. It is a hard thing to bring such 
 subjects into shape which young girls can grasp ; 
 yet they are the best things for opening the mind 
 upon a broad horizon. 
 
 For a review of the week I must think of Plato ; 
 the " Republic," and " Timaeus," and " Critias," I 
 have succeeded in looking through ; I have heard 
 my " Mental" class read some of the rest. In the 
 " Republic," I remember it is decided that youths
 
 120 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 should be taught in music, — no enfeebling* melo- 
 dies, but those which strengthen and build up the 
 soul in all that is vast and true. Plato's idea of 
 music comjjrehends more than we read in the word ; 
 and I see how it is that an education should be 
 musical, — the spiritual fabric rising like the walls 
 of Troy to the Orphean strains of noble thoughts 
 and impulses. 
 
 I remember, too, that he would forbid some of the 
 stories of the Gods to be told to childi-en ; those which 
 should needlessly alarm them, or weaken their rever- 
 ence. In that corrupt and yet beautiful system, it 
 was necessary indeed ; the same idea might be not 
 injuriously carried out in a system of Christian edu- 
 cation. In the Hebrew Scriptures there is much 
 that puzzles the maturest minds, sincere and ear- 
 nest in their search for truth ; yet these narratives 
 are the first knowledge that children often have of 
 the Bible. I would have them learn only the New 
 Testament, until they have learned something of 
 the real nature of the world they are ushered into. 
 When they study other history, they will be better 
 able to understand this ; and the history of the 
 Jews is, it seems to me, a wonderful part of the 
 world's record, so connected with that of other na- 
 tions as to make them plainer, revealing the hand- 
 writing of an Almighty Providence everywhere. 
 
 I would not have the child begin life with the 
 terror which hung over my childhood : told that 
 I was a sinner before I knew what sin meant, 
 and fearful pictures of eternal punishment which
 
 INTELLECTUAL EXPERIENCES. 121 
 
 awaited all sinners at death haunting my dreams, 
 so that I was afraid to sleep, and more afraid to 
 die. I know they say (a good man has just said 
 it to me) that there is less vigor of mind and char- 
 acter because these things are less taught as a part 
 of religion than formerly ; yet I am sure that blind 
 fear cannot invigorate, — it must degrade. I be- 
 lieve that I went far down from my earliest ideals 
 of life after hearing these things ; and it was a long 
 straying amid shadowy half-truths, and glooms of 
 doubt, and stagnations of indifference, before I came 
 back to the first thought of my childhood. No : 
 let a child's life be beautiful as God meant it to be, 
 by keeping it near Him, by showing to its simpli- 
 city the things which are lovely, and true, and pure, 
 and of good report. The knowledge of evil comes 
 rapidly enough, in the petty experiences of life ; 
 but a child will soon love evil and grow old in it, 
 if driven away from the divine light of love ; if not 
 allowed to think of God chiefly as a friend. And 
 just here is where Christ speaks to the hearts of 
 little children ; they know Him as soon as He is 
 permitted to speak, and are known of Him. 
 
 January 29. I believe that letter- writing is 
 more of a reality to me now than conversation ; 
 short though my notes are, I can speak thus to 
 those who need me, and whom I need. 
 
 Repose of character, and the power of forgetting, 
 are great compensations for a tried, hurried, and 
 worried life. And there is, in all but the most 
 unusual lives, something like this, which enables
 
 122 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 people to laugh at care, and triumph over grief ; 
 though it is never perfectly done, except by a 
 thorough trust in the goodness of God, — a faith 
 in the watching love. 
 
 February 5. I did have the sleigh-ride with my 
 young friends, as I expected, and a merry one 
 it was. We just whirled through Attleboro, and 
 back again. All I remember of the ride is the 
 icicles that hung on the orchard trees and, just at 
 sunset, the tints that fell on a slope of unstained 
 snow. They were the softest, coolest shades of 
 blue and violet, with here and there a suggestion 
 of rose or crimson, a perfectly magical combination 
 of shadow colors, only half escaped from their 
 white light-prison of the snow. It was a hint of 
 the beauty of an Alpine or a Polar landscape, such 
 as travelers tell about. The young moon followed 
 one queenly star down the west, as we returned, 
 with a song of " Gloiy Hallelujah," and " Home- 
 ward Bound." 
 
 February 6. The clear blue of this morning's 
 sky has melted into a mass of snowy clouds, and 
 now earth and sky are of the same hue, — white — 
 white, — the purest crystalline snow is on the 
 ground, and more is coming. The violet hues in 
 the north at sunrise and sunset are very beautiful. 
 
 I am glad I took my walk in the woods this 
 morning while the sky was bright ; there are fine 
 tints there always on the trees, various browns of 
 withered oaks and beech-leaves, still persistent, 
 and leaning against the stout pine trunks, that
 
 INTELLECTUAL EXPERIENCES. 123 
 
 hold up their constant green to the sky. Two trees 
 I noticed for the first time, a pine and a maple, 
 which have grown up with their trunks in close 
 union, almost one from infancy. One keeps his 
 dark green mantle on, the other has lost her light 
 summer robe, but is covered all over with the soft- 
 est clinging lichens, that contrast their pale green 
 tints with the white-gray bai'k in a charming way. 
 When snow falls on these lichen-draped boughs, 
 the softness of the white above and the white be- 
 low is wonderful. I think Neck-woods is a grand 
 studio ; when weary of my own white walls I can 
 always find refreshment there. 
 
 February 7. The news of Sarah Paine 's death 
 overwhelms me, — so young, so sensitive, so genial 
 and accomplished ; she seemed made to enter deeply 
 into the reality and beauty of an earthly life. No 
 pupil of mine has ever yet come near me in so 
 many ways to sympathize and gladden as she. 
 Only a few weeks since, we walked together in 
 the woods, so full of life and hope she was ; and 
 now, in a moment, — but why this sorrow, since 
 she is but suddenly called home to deeper love and 
 purer life ? 
 
 How every failure of tenderness and perfect 
 a2)preciation on my part comes back to pain me 
 now ! Why have I not written to her? Why have 
 I waited for her to write to me ? Oh, what is 
 worse than to fail of loving truly ? 
 
 February 13. I had decided to go to her fu- 
 neral, and went to Boston for the purpose, but a
 
 124 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 sleepless night left me too wretched to undertake 
 the journey, and I spent the days in Boston feeling 
 too miserable to come back here, or to stay there. 
 How much of my life is gone with this friend ! — 
 gone ? no ; translated, lifted up with her to her 
 new estate ! Yet much is gone from the world : 
 the beauty of the walks about here, of the studies 
 we have loved and pursued together, — I hardly 
 knew how much this young life had woven itself 
 into mine. And it was the deeper, spiritual sym- 
 pathies fusing all love into one deep harmony of 
 life, — it was the love of the all-loving One that 
 brought us closest together ; and that makes " was " 
 the wrong word to use, in speaking of her ; she is 
 my friend stiU, and the light of her new life will 
 enter into mine. 
 
 One after another, those who have come nearest 
 to me to love, to sympathize, to guide, pass on into 
 purer air, and make me feel that my life is not 
 here ; my home is with the beloved. 
 
 February 17. There is news to-day of great 
 victories in progress for us. Fort Donelson is sur- 
 rounded ; there has been a deadly fight, and our 
 flag waves upon the outer fortifications. It is said 
 that the rebels must yield, as all approaches are 
 cut off, but it is the struggle of desperation with 
 them, as this is the key to the whole Southwest. 
 There are victories in Missouri and in North Caro- 
 lina also ; more prisoners taken than our generals 
 know what to do with ; but all this is purchased 
 at such a price of blood !
 
 INTELLECTUAL EXPERIENCES. 125 
 
 In tlie days I stayed in Boston last week I vis- 
 ited two galleries of paintings, ancient and mod- 
 ern. The old paintings are chiefly curious, not 
 beautiful, often very coarse in conception. I should 
 like to see something really great by the " old mas- 
 ters ; " but I suppose such things are only to be 
 seen in Europe. 
 
 I believe I love landscape more than figures, 
 unless these latter are touched by a master's hand. 
 To be commonplace in dealing with nature does 
 not seem quite so bad as in dealing with human 
 beings. 
 
 I heard Ralph Waldo Emerson speak too. " Civ- 
 ilization " was his subject ; nobly treated, except 
 that the part of Handet was left out of Hamlet. 
 What is civilization without Christianity ? There 
 was a kind of religion in what he said ; an acknow- 
 ledging of all those elements which are the result 
 of Christianity ; indeed, Emerson's life and charac- 
 ter are such as Christianity would shape. He 
 only refuses to call his inspiration by its right 
 name. The source of all great and good thought 
 is in Christ ; so I could listen to the Sage of Con- 
 cord, and recognize the voice of the Master he 
 will not own in words. 
 
 " Hitch your wagon to a star ! " was his way of 
 telling his hearers to live nobly, according to the 
 high principles which are at the heart of all life. 
 The easiest way to live, he said, was to follow the 
 order of the Universe. So it is. " The stars in 
 their courses fought ag-ainst Sisera : " but it was
 
 126 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 because Sisera would go the opposite way to the 
 stars. This is the secret of our struggle, and of 
 our victory that will be. We have entangled our- 
 selves with wrong, have gone contrary to the Di- 
 vine Order ; now, if we come out plainly and 
 strongly on the right side, we triumph ; for Right 
 cannot fail. This war will make a nation of great 
 and true souls ; if we fight for freedom. And what 
 else is worth the conflict, the loss of life ? ' The 
 Union, a Country — a home? Yes, if these may 
 be preserved in honor and humanity, not otherwise. 
 Better be parceled out among the nations than 
 keep the stigma of inhumanity upon our great do- 
 main. Freedom for slavery is no freedom to a 
 noble soul. 
 
 February 21. I have often wondered what is 
 the meaning of these dim forebodings, that, with- 
 out any apparent cause, will sometimes make us so 
 uneasy. The air is bright, cold, and clear ; every- 
 thing without says, " Rejoice and be strong ! " every- 
 thing within is darkened by vague, unaccountable 
 flutterings of anticipated ill. No sorrow can come 
 to me which will not involve some greater grief of 
 other hearts, so I dread the more what I have to 
 dread. I think I cannot say of anything that is 
 dear to me, that it is all my own ; can any one ? 
 Mothers, lovers, husbands, wives — these have ex- 
 clusive joys, and exclusive losses to risk. I can 
 lose much, for I love much ; yet there is nothing 
 on earth that I can feel myself holding firmly as 
 mine. So I seek to live in others' joy and sorrow.
 
 INTELLECTUAL EXPERIENCES. 127 
 
 A life large and deep in its love, is the privilege 
 of those placed as I am ; it must be either that, or 
 quite unloving, shut up in its own small case of 
 selfishness. " When Thou shalt enlarge my heart," 
 this large feeling of rest will be found. 
 
 I have plans floating in my mind for the educa- 
 tion of my nieces. I could not afford to have them 
 here without a salary much increased. 
 
 I think I could conduct their education myself, 
 in some small school, better than here, more accord- 
 ing to my own ideas ; whether that is really better 
 or not, only the results would show. But some of 
 their studies I know I could make more valuable 
 to them than those to whom they might be trusted. 
 Then I have an idea of moral, religious, and mental 
 development going on at the same time, which I 
 do not often see carried out ; perhaps I should not 
 do it, but I should like to try. Having no children 
 of my own I feel a responsibility for those who are 
 nearest me. How much of an effort one should 
 make for such a purpose as this, I do not know. 
 So far, I have been evidently led into the way I 
 ought to take ; may it be so still I 
 
 It was a new sight to me, to see a long line of 
 cavalry, extending far out of sight down the street, 
 a forest of bayonets at first, and then an army of 
 horses. It was our National Guard ; and it looked 
 like a strong defense, that bristling line of bayo- 
 nets ; but it made me very sad to think that men 
 must leave home, and peaceful occupations, and 
 moral influences, to punish rebellious brethren, and
 
 128 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 keep them in awe. Wai% as a business, is one that 
 I cannot learn to believe in, although I must realize 
 it as a necessity. 
 
 February 26. For any of us to comprehend 
 thoroughly Kant, Fichte, Schelling, Hegel — to say 
 nothing of the plainer sensualistic systems — in 
 the little time we can give to the study, is quite 
 out of the question. And yet it does these young 
 girls good to know that there is a region of thought 
 above and beyond their daily track, and if they 
 should ever have time, they may enjoy exploring 
 it. Besides, the habit of looking upon life in a 
 large way comes through philosophy Christianized. 
 The rio-ht use of our faculties in a reverent search 
 for truth is certainly worth much thought and 
 painstaking from man or woman. 
 
 To live a child-like, religious life in all things is 
 what I would do ; simply receiving light and life 
 from the love revealed within, and so, as a child, 
 claiming the inheritance of the world without, 
 which was created by the same Love for loving 
 souls ; but the earthly cleaves to me ; I lose sim- 
 plicity of soul in the world's windings. 
 
 Yet I own but one Life, one Lord and Redeemer ; 
 in Him only shall I find for myseK the simplicity of 
 the child and the wisdom of the Seraph. In Him 
 all things are mine. Beautiful ideals may deceive 
 one. Because we see and can talk about noble 
 things, does it follow that we can live them? I 
 fear not always. 
 
 March 5. My birthday, — and I am as much
 
 INTELLECTUAL EXPERIENCES. 129 
 
 gratified as any child to find fragrant and beau- 
 tiful flowers in ray room, placed there by loving 
 hands. And, what was very beautiful to me, the 
 trim-berry vine which I have kept in a dish of moss 
 all winter, this morning put forth one hesitating, 
 snow white blossom, another followed before noon, 
 and to-night there are four, as delicate in perfume 
 as in color ; it is so sweet, that the woods give me 
 this pretty memento of their love to-day ; it is a 
 promise of spring, too ; of the multitudes of just 
 such white blossoms that are waiting patiently 
 under the snow-banks to give themselves away in 
 beauty and fragrance by and by. — To-night, for 
 the first time, I met some of our scholars to talk 
 with them of deep and sacred truths. I hardly 
 know how I did it ; it seemed hard at first, and yet 
 it was easy, for the words seemed to be spoken 
 through me. I will try not to shrink from it again. 
 And I will endeavor to keep it before myself and 
 others, that Christianity is simply a receiving and 
 living out the life of Christ ; not a thing of theories 
 and emotions, but a life. 
 
 I will say it to these pages, because I feel it so 
 bitterly sometimes, and cannot speak it out here 
 without offense, that there is too much of the " tear- 
 ing open of the rosebud " in talking with those who 
 are seeking the truth. Some are thought to be in- 
 different or untrue, because they will not speak of 
 their deepest feelings to anybody who asks them. 
 It is a shameful mistake ; it must accompany a low 
 standard of delicacy, to say the least. Let me not
 
 130 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 call that pride or obstinacy, which is the heart's nat- 
 ural reserve ! The deeper depths of the soul are 
 sacred to one Eye alone, and so much as a shrink- 
 ing soul may reveal to a friend, it will. I would 
 discourage too free a conversation about one's own 
 feeling's ; it is dissipating, except where a burdened 
 soul mzist pour out itself to another for sympathy. 
 Why cannot we leave our friends to find God in 
 the silence of the soul, since there is His abode ? 
 
 March 11. We have had victories by sea and 
 land. To-night the news comes that Manassas is oc- 
 cupied by our troops. The " Merrimac " has made 
 a dash from Norfolk, and destroyed two of our war 
 vessels; but the little iron-clad "Monitor" appeai-ed 
 and drove her back. The coast of Florida is for- 
 saken by the rebels, and our troops are taking pos- 
 session. Everything is working for us now ; and 
 it seems as if the rebellion must soon be strangled. 
 Sometimes it seems to me as if these events were 
 happening in a foreign country, they touch me and 
 mine so little in a way that we immediately feel. 
 
 This has been a day of " clearing up," and do- 
 mestic reforms are never poetical. Taking down 
 pictures and books, and finding one's self reminded 
 of neglected favorites by heaps of dust, lost memen- 
 tos coming up from forgotten corners, — after all, 
 there is some sentiment in it ; and, in the midst 
 of it, three letters, two of them touching my heart- 
 strings right powerfully. 
 
 I have learned to live with a trusting heart and 
 a willing hand from day to day, and I have not a
 
 INTELLECTUAL EXPERIENCES. 131 
 
 wish for more, except that I might be able to help . 
 others as I am not now able. If it is rest that is 
 before me, I dare not take it until I am more 
 weary than now; — a home would withdraw me 
 from the opportunity of educating my nieces, per- 
 haps. No ! there can be nothing but single-handed 
 work for others before me ; anything else would be 
 but a temptation, and perhaps one that I should not 
 be able to bear. I would be kept safe from every- 
 thing but a plain opening to the life of self-sacrifice 
 in the footsteps of our one true Guide ! I will 
 trust Him for all, and be at rest from the dread of 
 too much sunshine, as well as from fear of storms. 
 He knows what I need. 
 
 There is heart-heaviness for souls astray, such as 
 I have seldom felt, weighing me down even now. 
 There is one poor girl, half ruined, and not knowing- 
 how to escape destruction, for whom there seems 
 no outlet but into the very jaws of death. None 
 but a Divine Power can help her ; yet He may do 
 it by making human helpers appear for her. How 
 fearful a thing it is to be placed where there are 
 brands to be plucked from burning. 
 
 And this is not the only one I know, for whom 
 all human efforts seem unavailing. Near and far 
 away are those to whom my heart reaches out with 
 nameless fears, and hope unquenched and unquench- 
 able, till the lamp of life shall go out. God save 
 us all from shipwreck of soul ! for these drifting 
 lives but show us the possibilities of our own. 
 
 With poor little Prince Arthur, I can sometimes
 
 132 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 say heartily, " Would I were out of prison, and 
 kept sheep." 
 
 One long summer all out of doors, what new life 
 it would give me ! Yet I would not have this 
 winter's memory left out of my life for much. 
 Some new openings into true life, here and be- 
 yond, come with every season. 
 
 March 16. I have been trying to hold some plain 
 converse with myself, and I am more and more 
 convinced that sincerity is not the thorough spirit 
 of my life, as I would have it. It is so eas}"^ to 
 take one's fine theories, and the frequent expres- 
 sion of them, in the place of the realities they 
 stand for. I really fear that I have been trying to 
 impose these fine theories upon Him who knows 
 ray heart, in the place of true love. I believe in 
 self-forgetfulness, in constant thought for others, 
 in humility, in following the light of the unseen 
 Presence within the soul, but I do not live out 
 these ideas, except in languid and faltering efforts. 
 
 Now in this way, is not ray life going to be a 
 false one, false to man and God ? Discouraging 
 indeed it is, to think much of self ; and it is well 
 that we need not do it. There is life, there is truth 
 to be had for the asking. Only the Christ-life 
 within can make me true before heaven and earth 
 and my own heart. Yet even here I feel myself so 
 apt to dwell upon the beautiful theory of a present 
 Redeemer as to foroet that in the trifles of a dailv 
 intercourse with human beings, this life is to be 
 manifested, if at all. Thoroughly unselfish — 
 shall I ever be that?
 
 INTELLECTUAL EXPERIENCES. 133 
 
 I was glad to talk with my Bible scholars about 
 the resurrection to-day. It has come to be the 
 most real of all revealed truths to me. 
 
 Our Lord is risen, and we have a Redeemer to 
 stand by our souls in the struggles of this human 
 life. He is risen, and we shall arise from the dead, 
 and go home to Hiui, " and so be forever with the 
 Lord." He is risen, and all His and our beloved 
 are risen with Him ; they are "■ alive from the 
 dead forevermore." He is risen, and we rise with 
 Him from the death of sin, into the new life of 
 holiness which he has brought into the world. He 
 said, " Because I live, ye shall live also." 
 
 Beverly, April 5. Two, almost three, weeks of 
 the vacation are gone. It is Saturday night, and 
 after a week of fine spring weather, there is another 
 driving snowstorm, which makes us all anxious, as 
 our good brother Isaac has just sailed from Bos- 
 ton ; but perhaps he is at anchor in the Roads ; they 
 would not start with the signs of a northeast storm 
 at hand. Bound for Sumatra, to be gone a year, 
 perhaps two. How we shall all miss him I He is 
 one of the really kind-hearted, genial men, who 
 know how to make home and friends happy, just 
 by being what they are ; no effort, no show about 
 it, genuine goodness of heart making itself always 
 felt. 
 
 I have had a week of visiting, also. Curious 
 contrasts one finds, in passing from family to fam- 
 ily ; each has its own peculiar essence or flavor, 
 its home element, or lack of the same ; sometimes
 
 134 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 its painful peculiarity, wliicli it seems almost dis- 
 honorable for a guest to notice, or ever even" to 
 think of, afterwards. One thing is plain, — the 
 worldly-prosijerous learn with most difficulty the 
 secret of home-rest ; whoever loves show has not 
 the true home-love in him. 
 
 Those are the happiest family circles which are 
 bound together by intangible, spiritual ties, in the 
 midst of care, poverty, and hard work, it may 
 be. Whether rich or poor, a home is not a home 
 unless the roots of love are ever striking deeper 
 through the crust of the earthly and the conven- 
 tional, into the very realities of being, — not con- 
 sciously always ; seldom, perhaps ; the simj)licity of 
 loving grows by living simply near nature and God. 
 
 And I have looked into some pleasant homes 
 during this brief visit. Homes where little chil- 
 dren are, are always beautiful to me, for the chil- 
 dren's sake, if for nothing more. Cherub-like or 
 impish, the little folks fascinate me always. If I 
 were a mother, I am afraid I should never want 
 my baby to grow up ; and who knows whether the 
 babies that die do not keep the charm of infancy 
 upon them forever? So many little children I 
 have loved have gone home with tiny life-torches 
 just filling some small domestic world with light, 
 a light that could not go out, and which perhaps 
 heaven needs to make it perfect heaven. 
 
 But the best visit of all is always to Amesbury, 
 to the friendly poet, and my loving Lizzie, his 
 sister ; dearer and dearer she seems to me, now so
 
 INTELLECTUAL EXPERIENCES. 135 
 
 alone, without her mother. Since Esther went 
 away, my longing love goes after this friend, my 
 own Elizabeth, as if, when Heaven opened to 
 receive one friend, a golden cord were flung down 
 to us two, to bring us nearer each other and nearer 
 the beloved ones up there. But theirs is a home 
 in each other's love which makes earth a place to 
 cling to for its beauty yet. If I could not think of 
 them together there, of the quiet light which bathes 
 everything within and around their cottage under 
 the shadow of the hill, of the care repaid by gentle 
 trust, of the dependence so blessed in its shelter of 
 tenderness and strength, the world would seem to 
 me a much drearier place ; for I have never seen 
 anything like this brother's and sister's love, and 
 the home-atmosphere it creates, tlie trust in human 
 goodness and the Divine Love it diffuses into all 
 who enter the charmed circle. 
 
 I love to sit with my friends in the still Quaker 
 worship ; there is something very soothing in the 
 silence of the place to me, and in glancing upon 
 the faces around me, where " the dove of peace sits 
 brooding." Then and there, I have often felt the 
 union of all hearts in the truth, where there is no 
 thought of opinion, or sect, or creed, but the one 
 wide communion of trust in one Father and Ee- 
 deemer which is His church ; the gathering of all 
 souls in Him. 
 
 April 17. I feel better prepared to write than 
 I ever have, and I feel a greater desire to say what 
 I am able to say, if I may. I do not know what
 
 136 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 niy greatest use in life is yet, whether I can do 
 more by teaching or by writing ; I wait to be shown 
 and to be guided, and I believe I shall be. 
 
 April 22. . . . The best preparation for death is 
 to be alive as fully as one is capable of being ; for 
 the transition is not from life to death, but from 
 life to life ; more life always. And the time when 
 we are to be called hence need not trouble us, or 
 the way : it is in the heart of the Father to do the 
 best thing for us forever. 
 
 May 4. I have been to Esther's grave, and 
 foiuid Spring there, a glimpse of the immortal sun- 
 shine and blossoming in which she lives. I have 
 found love growing for me in her home, in one 
 young, glad heart ; and in one life-worn and sor- 
 row-worn. I have felt her spirit living and breath- 
 ing yet in her earthly home ; from her flowers, her 
 books, her domestic life, in all the atmosphere of 
 the places haunted by her footsteps, — the home 
 where she lived and loved and suffered, the lovely 
 resting-place of her dust by the river side. Of such 
 lives as hers new life is born, and I have brought 
 back with me a deeper reality to live in, heaven 
 bends nearer over me, earth is lifted up to heaven. 
 I only needed to breathe in another, freer atmos- 
 phere than this ; and the dear Lord sent me just 
 where it was best for me to go. Scarcely could I 
 have found anything so good for my soul's health, 
 this side of the " fields beyond the swelling flood," 
 where Esther, my heart's sister, walks with the An- 
 gels in the bloom of immortal health and loveliness.
 
 INTELLECTUAL EXPERIENCES. 137 
 
 It is strange, but I seem to know her more hu- 
 manly now than when she was here. I saw her 
 but once or twice ; she was to me as a spirit, a voice 
 in the wilderness, to guide and to cheer. Now I 
 feel how she wore the same robes of flesh, wearily 
 and painfully, yet cheering and blessing household 
 and friends by her patient, tender love. I never 
 thought before how beautiful it would be to visit 
 the Holy Land — to tread in the Lord's footsteps. 
 I had thought that the spirit-love might be dimmed 
 by traces of the earthly ; but it is not so ; I have 
 tracked the footsteps of this loving pilgrim through 
 the Gethsemane and Olivet of her Holy Land of 
 home, and I know her and hers more truly ; I am 
 hers, and she is mine more surely now forever. 
 
 May 10. Heaven is a jilace., a home, a rest : but 
 it is a Spiritual habitation, Truth and Love and 
 Peace are the pillars that support it ; and it is the 
 truthful, the loving, and the holy only who may 
 enter in. How then, O beloved Guide, may such 
 as I ? Because Thou hast drawn me by love 
 to Love, — hast given an " earnest " of that life 
 even here, imparting new sympathies, hopes, and 
 aspirations, infusing Thine own life into mine, and 
 Thou wilt never forsake Thine own work, Thine 
 own home ! Yet so imperfectly I hear and follow 
 Thee, so slow, so cold, so hard my nature yet, — 
 when the summons comes, will it not find me lag- 
 ging on the heavenly road, hardly at home within 
 the beautiful gates ? So many die with noble pur- 
 poses half-grown into achievement, so many live
 
 138 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 but half in the light, and yet the Light is in them, 
 — how will it be with them, and with me ; how 
 shall the stains of the mortal be put off? Death 
 has no cleansing power, and defilement may not 
 enter heaven. There is a mystery here which is 
 too painfnl ; yet we know not what that other life is, 
 nor how hereafter, more than here, the Shepherd 
 leads His own. 
 
 Always it is by paths they have not known ; and 
 what new and wonderful ministries may be pre- 
 pared for us there, who have sought Him through 
 all our faltering and waywardness here. He knows ; 
 and it is good to trust Him always, and for all 
 things. 
 
 Sabbath, May 11. Esther's letters are a con- 
 stant comfort to me ; they say more to me now, 
 about some things, than they did while she was 
 alive. I love to keep them near me — in sight. 
 Does she know how happy she makes me every 
 day I live, how rich I am in the inheritance of 
 love she has left me ? Ah ! how little can I tell 
 what she is doing for me now ! But the " idea of 
 her life " seems growing into all my thoughts. I 
 could not have known her as I do if she had not 
 gone away, to return in spirit ; and I can see her, 
 too, moulding the lives of others she loved most 
 dearly. There is more of heaven in this Spring's 
 sunshine than I have seen for years. 
 
 I owe my acquaintance with Robertson to her ; 
 a gift she sent me out of deepest pain, when she 
 was passing through the fires, and none but Jesus
 
 INTELLECTUAL EXPERIENCES. 139 
 
 knew. I use his thouglits on the epistle to the 
 Corinthians with my class these Sunday mornings ; 
 that is, I read the Apostle's words, then Robert- 
 son's, then the Apostle's again, and afterward talk 
 with the scholars from the things which I have, 
 in both ways, received. And by the kindling eyes 
 and earnest looks of all, especially of some whose 
 natures have seemed indolent and unspiritual, I 
 feel assured that the living thought is sometimes 
 found and received mutually. A soul must drink 
 the truth, bathe in it, glow with its life, in order to 
 impart it to another soul ; and it is to me a source 
 of gratitude which I can never exhaust, that such 
 as Robertson and my Esther " have lived and died." 
 
 May 13. Yesterday morning the news came of 
 the surrender of Norfolk, and, in a sudden burst of 
 patriotism, the school went out and marched round 
 the Liberty pole, under the Stars and Stripes, sing- 
 ing " Hail Columbia," and cheering most heartily. 
 
 The defeat of the rebels — happily bloodless — 
 was attended with the usual amount of vandalism, 
 burning of buildings, ships, etc. The stolen ship 
 " Merrimac," transformed into an iron-fanged rebel 
 war steamer, was blown up ; we are all glad her 
 race is run. And the vandalism of the rebels is 
 but another proof to the world of the worth of their 
 cause, the desperate situation in which they find 
 themselves, and on which side of the contest bar- 
 barism lingers. All hearts are lighter now. The 
 doom of this demoniac rebellion is sealed. There is 
 no longer any slavery in the District of Columbia,
 
 140 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 and doubtless the whole infamous " system " shall 
 be drowned out in the blood of this war. If not, it 
 will seem to have been shed in vain. 
 
 May 21. C has gone into the army; but 
 
 first he has " joined the army of the Lord," as he 
 expresses it in his letter to his mother. If ever 
 mortals could hear the angels rejoicing " over one 
 that rej)enteth," I should think I had heard them 
 to-day, while I read this news. So much anxiety 
 lest here should be a shipwrecked soul, so many 
 have been pained about him, and burdened for him, 
 — so little faith or hope some of us had, as to the 
 possibility of his rising out of his old self into a 
 better life, — all these memories come back, and 
 make it seem like a miracle ; and indeed it is the 
 greatest of all miracles. 
 
 And when he writes, " Aunt Lucy may feel as 
 if her prayers were being answered," it seems to 
 me as if I had nothing but unbelief to remember. 
 It is the mighty hand of God, if he is saved ! He 
 goes into temptation, but he goes hopeful, and long- 
 ing to prove himself a " good soldier of the Cross." 
 And now he needs to be followed with faith and 
 prayer more than ever. It seems to me as if this 
 were realizing for the first time, what " conversion " 
 means ; that it is a reality, and not a term which 
 custom has made mere cant. He speaks of liim~ 
 self in a free, simple way, as I never could have 
 spoken ; and yet it is genuine. Oh, if it might 
 unloose more hearts and tongues ! 
 
 May 23. ... I am so glad to be 7ieeded, as I
 
 INTELLECTUAL EXPERIENCES. 141 
 
 seem to be now, by several of my friends : my 
 thoughts, my care, my suggestions seem of some 
 value. It is a woman's want, and I feel a woman's 
 gratification in being allowed to think a little for 
 others. For a great school like this, I never feel 
 that I can do much ; I want to know just the espe- 
 cial need of somebody that I can help. 
 
 So human nature goes : absorbed by petty miser- 
 ies quite as much as by grand and beautif id ideas ; 
 who would think, sometimes, that such as we could 
 be immortal beings ? 
 
 I have felt myself growing very skeptical for a 
 little while, of late. A cold thrill creeps insid- 
 iously through me when I go among people ; there 
 is so little apparent reality in human lives, loves, 
 friendships. " All seek their own ; " and when 
 there is a gleam of unselfishness, it is but a passing 
 gleam. And, worst of all, when I am with those 
 whose lives are pitched in a low key, I find myself 
 taking it for granted that it is life. 
 
 June 7. Two trials came to me this week, trials 
 to patience which I seldom have, yet both very 
 trifling. One came from a selfish woman, who 
 would misunderstand me, and imagine that I was 
 troubling her, when I was trying to do just the op- 
 posite ; this I must bear in silence, for it is a case 
 when doing- and letting; alone are accounted alike 
 grievous. Another was from the whims of school- 
 girls, which they would persevere in, though to 
 their own serious discomfort. How to meet such 
 things with simple meekness, and not with a desire
 
 142 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 to let people suffer the consequences of their own 
 mistakes, is something, which, old as I am, I have 
 not yet learned. The constant frets of this kind 
 that some have to bear, I have been saved from ; 
 people are generally too generous and thoughtful 
 of me. How miserable some families must be ! 
 and what a wretched life it must be, just to be left 
 to the indulgence of one's own foolish and selfish 
 whims I 
 
 June 11. This week I wrote letters which de- 
 cide my going to Connecticut, to Esther's mother, 
 next year. It is strange that it seemed so hard for 
 me to decide upon so pleasant a thing; but some- 
 how it is as if this were altogether a different thing 
 from my usual plans ; as if there were hidden links 
 in spiritual chains influencing my decision, and to 
 result from it. I do not know whether I have de- 
 cided right, but I believe some good will come out 
 of it, in some way. If I can make a desolate home 
 a little happier, it will be worth going for ; but that 
 is just the thing I fear I shall not do. 
 
 June 22. ... I was most wretchedly tried, to- 
 day, by a bungler in dentistry, and then worried 
 and vexed by two hours' hurried and dissatisfied 
 shopping. 
 
 ... I know that I am loved and valued here, 
 and yet I want to go away. I do not think of any 
 place where I long to go, but only somewhere into 
 a different life : into more trials I am sure it will 
 be, when I do go, but that does not frighten me. I 
 am growing callous with the constant repetition of
 
 INTELLECTUAL EXPEEIENCES. 143 
 
 the same blessings. I need to suffer, to be shaken 
 sorely through all my life, then perhaps I shall 
 learn not to be so ungrateful or indifferent to any- 
 thing God sends. 
 
 July 9. If Atlas had undertaken to keep a 
 journal of his state of mind, while holding the world 
 on his shoulders, he might have been successful and 
 he might not ; and it might or might not have been 
 worth while. I don't want to " keep a journal " 
 exactly, but I want to try the effect of writing every 
 day, as much to keep up the habit as anything else. 
 But how to catch the moments from between the 
 busy hours ? I am to be here another anniversary, 
 — no help for it, though greatly against my wishes : 
 the work that comes with it does not seem to me 
 very profitable to anybody in particular, and the 
 hardest of it comes upon me. I dislike shows and 
 preparation for shows ; but there is no escaping. 
 There is an interest in helping the girls do their 
 parts well, only they and I both fear I help them 
 too much sometimes. 
 
 . . . At night a most kind letter from my editor 
 friend with a most liberal enclosure for services 
 rendered. The nobleness and genial spirit of the 
 man is more to me even than his liberality. It is 
 a comfort to write for those who receive in the 
 spirit of one's giving. 
 
 And to-day a letter from a young nephew, con- 
 fiding to me his longings for a better life, and ask- 
 ing for suggestions and advice. This is a joy that 
 brought tears to my eyes ; not that I can do much
 
 144 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 for him, except by helping him to keep those aspira- 
 tions alive ; by sympathy and by living such a life 
 as he seeks. It is like a miracle, in these days, 
 when a young man like him really is interested in 
 such things ! An upright, moral one too, with few 
 bad habits, and the promise of a successful worldly 
 career. 
 
 Beverly, last of July. The war moves on, but 
 slowly. The " rallying " meetings to raise the Pres- 
 ident three hundred thousand men seem like an 
 attempt at galvanizing patriotism into life. Blind- 
 ness is come upon the people in some way, for some 
 reason : it is not as in the old Revolutionary days ; 
 and yet this cause is greater. But we will not dare 
 to say that we are fighting for anything but the 
 Government. We leave God out, and all becomes 
 confused. 
 
 July 29. Another death; C , the stray lamb 
 
 so long, has been called into the upper fold. His 
 was a wonderful change, as marked as St. Paul's, 
 almost, and his last letter from the camp was one 
 that will be a lifelong comfort to his friends, so 
 full of faith in God, submission to His will, an en- 
 tire readiness to die, and yet a wish to live that the 
 past might be redeemed. He died on the 25th of 
 June, while his division of the army was passing 
 from Corinth to Memphis, after having suffered 
 much from fever, and other complaints incident to 
 a weakened constitution in a new climate, and 
 among the hardships of war. He had his wish ; 
 his long desire to be a soldier was gratified ; once
 
 INTELLECTUAL EXPEBIENCES. 145 
 
 he was under fire ; the air full of bullets around 
 him, and one striking within two feet of his head. 
 But he was not to die in battle ; disease, that he 
 dreaded more, laid him low ; he longed for civiliza- 
 tion, was weary of the great Southern forests ; but 
 there he was to lay his weary head for his last sleep. 
 And now his mother is all alone in the world, and 
 almost broken-hearted. One after another, hus- 
 band and four children have gone, and she is a 
 widow and childless. 
 
 But to think of the thousands of homes that this 
 war has desolated, the thousands of hearts well- 
 nigh broken ! Is it not enough ? 
 
 No, for the purification of the nation has not 
 yet been wrought out ; the scourge is needed yet ; 
 the gidf yet yawns for that which is dearest in all 
 the land, and the war will not cease until it is 
 closed. Not to a proud, self-confident people will 
 the victory be given, but to the humble, the trust- 
 ful, the nation that stays itself upon God, and lives 
 only for the highest principles, and the highest love. 
 
 Aujrust 10. This week has been a more remark- 
 able one than any in my life, I believe, in the way 
 of seeing people I have heard of, and had some 
 little curiosity about. Last Thursday was spent at 
 Andover, and one of the golden days it was. The 
 day itself was one of shine and shadow just rightly 
 blended ; and the place, the well-known Hill of the 
 students, was in its glory. After sitting awhile in 
 church, where the learned Professors, Park, Phelps, 
 and Stowe, sat in state (I wonder if Professors dread
 
 146 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 anniversaries and conspicuous positions as we board- 
 ing-school teachers do I) we went up the hill to 
 accept an invitation to lunch with Mrs. Harriet 
 Beecher Stowe. It was beautiful as a page from 
 one of her own story books. 
 
 Mrs. Stow^e herself I liked, and her house and 
 garden were just such as an authoress like her 
 ought to have. It all had what I imagine to be an 
 English look, the old stone house, with its wild 
 vines and trees brought into shape in picturesque 
 walks, and its cool refreshment-room looking off 
 over the river, the city, and the far hills, to the 
 mountains ; the arrangement of the table, too, 
 showing so much of the poetess. I could not have 
 called upon Mrs. Stowe formally ; as it was, no- 
 thing could have been much pleasauter, of that 
 kind. 
 
 Then before I left I called upon some old friends ; 
 a call which finished the day very delightfully ; for 
 there, besides the cordiality of really well - bred 
 people, I saw one of the sweetest specimens of girl- 
 hood that can be shown in New England, I fancy. 
 Beauty does not often fascinate me, in its common 
 acceptation ; but where there is soul in a young, 
 sweet face — modesty and intelligence that greet 
 you like the fragrance of a rosebud before it is well 
 opened — it is so rare a thing in these "Young 
 America " days that it makes me a little extrava- 
 gant in admiration, perhaps. 
 
 Saturday I spent at Amesbury ; it was not quite 
 like other visits, for two other visitors were there ;
 
 INTELLECTUjiL EXPERIENCES. 147 
 
 yet I enjoyed one of them especially ; an educated 
 mulatto girl, refined, lady-like in every respect, and 
 a standing- reply to those who talk of the " inferiority 
 of the colored race." It is seldom that I see any 
 one who attracts me so much, whose acquaintance 
 I so much desire, just from first sight. She would 
 like to teach at Port Royal, but the government 
 will not permit. Ah, well ! my book ends with no 
 prospect of the war's end. Three hundred thou- 
 sand recruits have just been raised, and as many 
 more are to be drafted. 
 
 Many talk as if there never was a darker time 
 than now. We have no unity of jiurpose ; the 
 watchword is " Fight for the Government ! " but 
 that is an abstraction the many cannot comprehend. 
 If they woidd say, " Fight for Liberty — your own 
 liberty, and that of every American," there would 
 be an impetus given to the contest that, on our 
 side, " drags its slow length along." This is an 
 extreme opinion, our law-abiding people say, but I 
 believe we shall come to worse extremes before the 
 war ends.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 LETTERS AND WORK. 
 
 1861-1868. 
 
 The regular routine of school-life was varied for 
 Miss Larcom by cliarming invitations to Boston 
 where she met many literary friends, and by her 
 pleasant siunmer vacations, which she always spent 
 among the mountains. The two following letters, 
 one to Mr. James T. Fields and one to Mr. Whittier, 
 are interesting : — 
 
 Norton, April 4, 1861. 
 
 Dear Mr. Fields, — My thoughts ran into a 
 kind of rhapsody, all to themselves, after that even- 
 ing of pleasant surprises at your house. I did not 
 know it was fairy-land at 37 Charles Street, nor 
 did I dream of meeting so many of the Genii, — 
 if I had foredreamed or foreknown, I suppose I 
 should have thought it even more of an impossibil- 
 ity for me to go than I did. 
 
 I was n't going to be so foolish as to send j'ou 
 this rhapsody, but I have just got back to my own 
 room after the wanderings of vacation, and have 
 hung up my ruined arch. It is Dolabella's, on the 
 Coelian Hill, and it brings back so many pleasant 
 reminiscences of those few hours among the treas-
 
 LETTERS AND WOBK. 149 
 
 ures of your home-grotto that I am just in the 
 mood for inflicting this out-of-date expression of 
 my enjoyment upon Mrs. Fiekls and you. I don't 
 pretend that it is j)oetry, and if you are ashamed of 
 me, for running on so, please remember that you 
 shouldn't have shown me so many curious and 
 beautiful things ; — I am not used to them. 
 
 I have heard that Miss Cushman is to play next 
 week. Is it true ? If it is, and if you know before- 
 hand what evenings she will appear as Lady Mac- 
 beth or Meg Merrilies, will you be so kind as to 
 tell Mr. Robinson, who will let me know, and who 
 has promised to accompany me to the theatre ? I 
 have always wanted to see her in some of her great 
 rbles^ and now more than ever, since I have seen 
 her as a noble woman. 
 
 What a wonderful statue that "Lotus Eater" 
 is! I was never so "carried away " with anything 
 in marble ! 
 
 With remembrances to Mrs. Fields, 
 Gratefully yours, 
 
 Lucy Larcom. 
 
 This poem was enclosed in the above letter : — 
 
 Was it a dream 
 Or waking vision of the gracious night ? 
 Did I on that enchanted isle alight, 
 Aye blossoming in Shakespeare's line, 
 With forms and melodies divine, — 
 
 Where all things seem 
 Ancient yet ever new beneath the hand 
 Of Prospero and his aerial band ?
 
 150 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 At every turn a change 
 
 To something rich and strange, — 
 Embodied shapes of poets' fantasies : 
 
 Glimpses of ruins old 
 Slow fading from the blue Italian skies ; 
 
 And runes of wizards bold ; 
 
 Or beautiful or quaint 
 Memorials of bard, and sage, and saint, 
 
 In many an antique tome. 
 
 There was some necromancy in the place : 
 The air was full of voices wondrous sweet ; 
 Crowned shadows of past ages came to greet 
 Their living peers, who lately lent new grace 
 
 To genius-haunted Rome ; 
 And when the lady of the grotto spoke, 
 'T was like Miranda, when at first she woke 
 To Love, lighting the wild sea with her smile 
 Star of her beautiful and haunted isle ; 
 
 And the magician, who 
 Such harmony and beauty round him drew, — 
 He was her Ariel and Ferdinand 
 
 Blended in one. 
 And heir to Prosper's wonder-working wand. 
 
 He charmed the sprites of power 
 
 For one familiar hour. 
 And Story-land and Dream-land deftly won 
 To his home-nook the moonlit stream beside : 
 
 Hushed and apart 
 
 Though in the city's heart, 
 There dwell they long, the poet and his bride I 
 
 TO J. G. WHITTIER. 
 
 Norton, Mass., September 8, 1861. 
 
 Why is it that I always miss thy visits ? Why 
 
 of all things should I have lost sight of thee at the 
 
 mountains ? and when I was so near thee too ! I 
 
 cannot think why so pleasant a thing should be
 
 LETTERS AND WORK. 151 
 
 withlield from me, unless because I enjoy it too 
 much. I have no other such friends as thee and 
 Elizabeth, and when anything like this happens it 
 is a great disappointment. But I said all the time 
 that seeing the hills with you could only be a beau- 
 tiful dream. 
 
 I felt the beauty of those mountains around the 
 Lake, as I floated among them, but I wished for 
 thee all the while ; because I have always associated 
 thee with my first glimpse of them, and somehow 
 it seems as if they belonged to thee or thee to them, 
 or both. They would not speak to me much; I 
 needed an interpreter: and when they grew so 
 dim and spectral in the noon haze, they gave me a 
 strange almost shuddering feeling of distance and 
 loneliness. 
 
 But I am glad thee saw the Notch Mountains, and 
 those grand blue hills up the river that I used to 
 watch through all their changes. I am glad Miss 
 
 B saw thee, for she was as much disappointed 
 
 as I when we gave up the hope of your coming. I 
 felt almost certain you would both come ; I wanted 
 Lizzie to know the mountains. 
 
 Is it right to dream and plan for another year ? 
 How I should like to go to Franconia with thee 
 and Elizabeth to see those great gates of the Notch 
 open gradually wider and wider, and then to pass 
 through to a vision of the vast range beyond ! It 
 is but a vague memory to me ; I long to take that 
 journey again. 
 
 But everything has wearied me this smumer,
 
 152 LXTCY LAHCOM. 
 
 and I feel almost like dropping my dreams and 
 never expecting anything more. It is doubtless 
 wiser to take what a kind Providence sends, just as 
 it comes : yet who is always wise ? Twice I rested 
 in the sight of your beautiful river and on that cot- 
 tage doorstep at Campton, looking off to the moun- 
 tains. But the sea tired me with its restlessness. 
 I wanted to tell it to be still. And I was very 
 willing to get back f f^m it to the quiet of my room, 
 to the shelter of these friendly elms, and to the 
 steady cheerful music of crickets and grasshoppers. 
 I shall be very happy to try to write a hymn for 
 the Horticultural Association, as you request ; and 
 will send you something as soon as I can. . . . 
 
 In the autumn of 1862, Miss Larcom decided 
 to give up teaching at Wheaton Seminary. Ill 
 health for some time had made her complain of a 
 constant sense of weariness in her head. Living 
 in the crowded school when she longed for quiet, 
 and preparing her work for extra classes, she be- 
 came nervously exhausted ; so that when an invita- 
 tion came from Esther's mother, requesting her to 
 spend the winter in Waterbury, Connecticut, she 
 readily accepted it. She longed to be in the peace- 
 ful home made sacred by the presence of her be- 
 loved friend, where she felt that by occupying 
 Esther's roOm, sitting at her writing-desk, and 
 using her very bed, she would enter into her spirit, 
 and help to fill the vacant place in a mother's 
 heart. At first there was something hallowed in
 
 LETTERS AND WORK. 153 
 
 the home of one so pure, — she " felt it was holy 
 ground," and was " half afraid to live my common 
 life here ; " but the close association with sad mem- 
 ories was depressing, and the solitude, while it gave 
 her rest, did not refresh her. After having formed 
 a lifelong friendshij) with Franklin Carter, a half- 
 brother of Esther and afterwards President of Wil- 
 liams College, she returned, first to Norton for a 
 little while, — then to Beverly, where she secured 
 time for her writing, which was now constantly ab- 
 sorbing her attention. 
 
 Her poems, written chiefly for weekly papers —   
 since they were either on homely fireside topics or 
 incidents of the war, or else were religious medita- 
 tions — were widely copied, and found their way 
 into the scrap-books of thoughtful households all 
 over the land. Referring to the winter of 1863, 
 she said, " I have written for the newspapers this 
 winter. My ideas of the ' Atlantic ' are too high 
 for me often to offer it anything my thoughts let 
 slip. My standard is so far beyond my perform- 
 ances, that I am very glad to let them glide away 
 unnoticed, and unnamed, on the path of the weekly 
 tide wave of print." Though Mr. Fields was equal 
 to the task of polite editorial refusal, he gladdened 
 her heart by occasionally accepting a poem. It was 
 through his literary judgment that " Hilary," that 
 tender lyric of sea-sorrow, with its wistfulness and 
 pathos, first saw the light ; and the indignant strains 
 of " A Loyal Woman's No " were first heard from 
 the pages of the "Atlantic." These successes
 
 154 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 opened the way for poems o£ greater merit, like the 
 " Eose Enthroned." 
 
 Her interest in the war was intense. She fol- 
 lowed eagerly the progress of the campaigns, and 
 rejoiced in every victory, often writing verses to 
 celebrate the events, as in the case of the sinking 
 Merrimac : — 
 
 " Gone down in the flood, and gone out in the flame ! 
 What else could she do, with her fair Northern name ? " 
 
 Her satire was ready for those able-bodied men 
 who, when the drafting was talked of, were sud- 
 denly seized with many varieties of disease, or 
 those who went a-fishing for the season — because 
 mariners were exempt — or, like one man, who 
 cut off three fingers, hoping that the loss of these 
 members would be sufficient to keep him at home. 
 She wanted to do something herself : " I am almost 
 ashamed of these high sentiments in print, because 
 I really have done nothing for our dear country as 
 yet. These things sound conceited and arrogant 
 to me, under the circumstances, but I only write 
 from an ideal of patriotic womanhood, and for my 
 country-women." She came near offering herself 
 as a teacher for the " Contrabands," but some of her 
 friends thought it unwise in the state of her health 
 at the time, and she concluded that she was not 
 fitted for the work, with the rather sad confession, 
 " I have an unconquerable distrust of my own fit- 
 ness for these angel ministries ; I fear I am not 
 worthy to suffer. I can think, write, and teach, 
 but can I live?"
 
 LETTERS AND WORK. 155 
 
 In August, 1863, she was called to the West by 
 the serious illness of her sister Louisa, which ter- 
 minated fatally. 
 
 TO MKS. JAMES T. FIELDS. 
 
 Hammond, Wis., September 11, 1863. 
 
 . . . and with her, my pleasant dreams of home dis- 
 solve ; it was she who said she would make a home 
 for me, wherever I would choose. The earthly out- 
 look is lonelier than before ; but I must not yield to 
 selfish regrets. She has gone home, in a sense more 
 real tlian we often say of the dead. Her whole fam- 
 ily had gone before her, — husband and four chil- 
 dren had left her one after another. Her heart 
 seemed broken when her youngest son died in the 
 army, last year ; she never recovered her strength 
 after that blow. I cannot mourn when I think of 
 that glad reunion of a household in heaven, but I 
 cannot help the great blank that her death and my 
 brother's have left in my life. These family ties, 
 I find, grow stronger as I grow older. 
 
 This prairie life does not now attract me at all. 
 A broad, grand world opens out on every side, but 
 there is no choice in it. You might as well take 
 cue level road as another. . . . 
 
 With the death of this sister, in reality, did dis- 
 solve the " pleasant dreams of a home," for Miss 
 Larcom never had a home of her own, though she 
 longed for one, and used to delight in speaking of 
 the possibility of having one. '' I will build my
 
 156 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 long-planned home among the mountains," she used 
 to say, " and my friends shall bivouac with me all 
 summer." But her life was spent principally in 
 hoarding-houses, or in the homes of others. Her 
 resources never permitted her to own the bed on 
 which she slept ; however, she did own an old 
 wooden lounge, which was her only bed for years. 
 But she made the best of it, in her usual way ; " I 
 like this old couch. I like to be independent of 
 things ; there is a charm in Bohemian life." 
 
 On her return to Beverly in 1864, she took a 
 few pupils again, and spent a good deal of time in 
 painting, — even weeds, for she " loved the very 
 driest old stick that had a bit of lichen or moss on 
 it." She exhausted her friend's libraries in read- 
 ing, and received from Mrs. Fields a large valise 
 filled with precious volumes, which she returned 
 only after having read them all. " I like to be 
 here in Beverly with my sister and the children. 
 I think I am more human here than at school." 
 
 The following records were made with feeling in 
 her diary. 
 
 April 10, 1865. Waked at five o'clock this 
 morning, to hear bells ringing for the surrender of 
 Lee's army ; robins screaming, and guns booming 
 from the fort. The war's " Finis ; " Glory Halle- 
 lujah ! 
 
 April 15. Starting for Boston, the bells began 
 to toll. The President's assassination is the re^jort. 
 The morning papers confirm the truth. Sadness 
 and indignation everywhere. The Rebellion has
 
 LETTERS AND WORK. 157 
 
 struck its most desperate blow, but the Nation 
 moves calmly on. 
 
 April 19. The President's funeral. Every place 
 of business closed. Services in all the churches. 
 I went to the Old South, and heard a brief and in- 
 dignant speech, which received the people's earnest 
 response. 
 
 May 14, Sunday. Bells ringing for the capture 
 of Jeff Davis. 
 
 In 1865, Miss Larcom became one of the editors 
 of the new magazine for young people, " Our Young 
 Folks," and retained this position until 1872, when 
 " St. Nicholas " inherited the good-will and patron- 
 age of the earlier magazine. The orange-colored 
 periodical bore her name, and those of Gail Hamil- 
 ton and Trowbridge, and usually contained a ballad 
 or prose sketch by her, or else she contributed some 
 of the answers in the " Letter Box." Her work was 
 performed with conscientiousness and good taste ; 
 her sympathy with child-life made her a valuable 
 assistant in making the magazine popular. She 
 was interested in its success : " ' Our Young Folks ' 
 greatly delights grown people everywhere. I am 
 very glad of an occasional criticism that offers a 
 hint of an improvement. It must be made to dis- 
 tance all competitors in value, as it does in patron- 
 
 age." 
 
 To be in a position where she had the power to 
 reject or accept hundreds of manuscripts sent for 
 approval, interested her, but she had so much sym-
 
 158 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 pathy for the struggling author, that, contrary to 
 the usual custom of the " Editorial Dej^artment," 
 she often sent a personal note of explanation. She 
 could not lielj) laughing over the strange letters she 
 received, though she usually answered them politely. 
 One woman wrote, asking her advice as to the sale 
 of three hundred barrels of apples. Musicians sent 
 her music, requesting her to write words to suit. 
 A young girl wrote that she was " young, poor, 
 and orphaned," thus appealing to the editorial sym- 
 pathies, and requested her to arbitrate concerning 
 the merit of two poems, " The Angel Whisper " 
 and " One of the Chosen," for some one had prom- 
 ised to give her five dollars and a new hat, if her 
 own poem should be successful. Modesty was not 
 always a virtue with these applicants. One wrote : 
 " Editors, Sir and Madam, — I send you a palin- 
 drome, which you know is a curiosity. I saw a list, 
 the other day, said to be the best in the language, 
 but this excels them all, as it represents a complete 
 idea of spiritual philosophy. I should like to open 
 a school of ideas for children. I believe this would 
 add to your subscription list." Another announced 
 the strange theory, that " languages were originated 
 with references to correspondence between the 
 visible and invisible world." Another facetiously 
 remarked, making application for a position, "Any- 
 thing but to count money, for I have not had ex- 
 perience in this form of labor." 
 
 Miss Larcom published, in 1866, the valuable 
 collection of extracts from religious writings, —
 
 LETTERS AND WORE. 159 
 
 " Breatliino-s of the Better Life." It was received 
 with warm welcome, and reprinted in England, 
 without, however, being accredited to the author. 
 It contained the passages she had discovered in her 
 reading of many books, to which she wanted to give 
 a wider circulation among those who might not pos- 
 sess the volumes. This little book represents the 
 development of her religious thought along deeply- 
 spiritual lines. Her favorite authors are repre- 
 sented, — Kobertson, Bushnell, Tholuck, and now 
 and then a little poem by George Herbert, Ma- 
 dame Guyon, or Mrs. Browning is given. The 
 subjects treated are characteristic of her thought : 
 "The Kingdom within the Soul," "The Way of 
 Access," " Life Eternal," " Shadows cast over 
 Other Lives," " The Bearing of the Cross," " The 
 Fullness of Life," "The Illuminated Gateway," 
 and " The Glory Beyond." 
 
 TO MB. J. T. FIELDS. 
 
 Beverly, Mass., May 20, 1866. 
 
 My dear Mr. Fields, — Before you escape 
 for the summer, I want to bother you with a word 
 or two about the " Breathings." I find that people 
 are imagining I have been very industrious this 
 winter, by the way they talk about my new book, 
 which they suppose is something original. I don't 
 want to give wrong impressions in that way, as the 
 selections are more valuable on their own account 
 than on mine. 
 
 When it is time to announce it, can it not be de-
 
 IGO LUCY LAB COM. 
 
 scribed as " a compilation of brief extracts in prose 
 and verse, from favorite religious writers," or some- 
 thing to that effect. And must my name appear in 
 full ? The commonplace " Miss Larcom " I should 
 like better than my usual staring alliteration ; as 
 less obtrusive, "L. L." is better still. 
 
 And please let the book be as inexpensive as pos- 
 sible, because it is my " little preach," and I want 
 a large congregation of poor folks like myself. My 
 object in preparing it will be defeated, if they can- 
 not have it. 
 
 I don't calculate upon a " paper fractional " from 
 it for myself, so you can leave that entirely out of 
 consideration. It has been altogether a labor of 
 love with me. I wanted the good people to know 
 who their best instructors are. Robertson above 
 all, who is the true apostle of this age, within the 
 Church. Yours sincerely, 
 
 Lucy Larcom. 
 
 TO MRS. J. T. FIELDS. 
 
 Bevkrly, Mass., May 20, 1866. 
 Dear Annie, — If I could only make you feel 
 the difference in myself coming home through 
 the apple-blooms last night, and going to Boston 
 Wednesday morning, I think you would know that 
 you had not lived in vain, for a few of the beauti- 
 ful May-day hours. I bring such refreshment from 
 you always ! I wonder if you do not feel that 
 something is gone out from you, or are you like the 
 flowers, that find an infinite sweetness in their
 
 LETTERS AND WORK. 161 
 
 hearts, replacing constantly what they give away ? 
 So much I must say in love and gratitude, and you 
 must pardon it, because it is sincere. 
 
 I have copied the rhyme note for you. If I did 
 not feel so very "stingy" (it's the word!) about 
 our Mr. Whittier's letters, I should give you the 
 original, for I think it belongs to you almost as 
 much as to me. But possession is nine tenths of 
 the law, you know, and I am a real miser about 
 the letters of a friend, — ashamed as I am to own 
 it to one so generous to me as you are. , . . 
 
 The " rhyme note " mentioned was a delightful 
 doggerel from Mr. Whittier. 
 
 Amesbury, March 25, 1866. 
 
 Believe me, Luoy Larcom, it gives me real sorrow 
 That I cannot take my carpet-bag, and go to town to-morrow ; 
 But I 'm " Snow-bound," and cold on cold, like layers of an onion, 
 Have piled my back, and weighed me down, as with the pack of 
 Bunyan. 
 
 The north-east wind is damper, and the north-west wind is colder. 
 
 Or else the matter simply is that I am growing older ; 
 
 And then, I dare not trust a moon seen over one's left shoulder 
 
 As I saw this, witli slender horn caught in a west hill-pine. 
 
 As on a Stamboul minaret curves the Arch Impostor's sign. 
 
 So I must stay in Amesbury, and let you go your way, 
 
 And guess what colors greet your eyes, what shapes your steps 
 
 delay. 
 What pictured forms of heathen love, of god and goddess please you. 
 What idol graven images you bend your wicked knees to. 
 
 But why should I of evil dream, well knowing at your head goes 
 That flower of Christian womanhood, our dear good Anna Mead- 
 ows!
 
 182 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 She '11 be discreet, I 'm sure, although, once, in a fit romantic, 
 She flung the Doge's bridal ring, and married the " Atlantic ; " 
 And spite of all appearances, like the woman in the shoe, 
 She 's got so many " Young Folks " now she don't know what to do. 
 
 But I must say, I think it strange that thee and Mrs. Spalding, 
 Whose lives with Calvin's five-barred creed have been so tightly 
 
 walled in. 
 Should quit your Puritanic homes, and take the pains to go 
 So far, with malice aforethought, to walk in a vain show ! 
 Did Emmons hunt for pictures ? was Jonathan Edwards peeping 
 Into the chambers of imagery with maids for Tanunuz weeping ? 
 
 Ah, well, the times are sadly changed, and I myself am feeling 
 The wicked world my Quaker coat from oif my shoulders peeling ; 
 God grant that, in the strange new sea of cliange wherein we swim, 
 We still may keep the good old plank of simple faith in Him ! 
 
 P. S. My housekeeper's got the "tissick," and gone away, and 
 
 Lizzie 
 Is at home for the vacation, with flounce and trimmings busy ; 
 The snow lies white about us, the birds again are dumb, — 
 The lying blue-frocked rascals who told us Spring had come ; 
 But in the woods of Folly-Mill the sweet May-flowers are making 
 All ready for the moment of Nature's glad awaking. 
 
 Come when they come ; their welcome share : — except when at 
 
 the city. 
 For months I 've scarce seen womankind, save when, in sheerest 
 
 Gail Hamilton came up, beside my lonely hearth to sit. 
 And make the Winter evening glad with wisdom and with wit 
 And fancy, feeling but the spur and not the curbing bit. 
 Lending a womanly charm to what before was bachelor rudeness ; — 
 The Lord reward her for an act of disinterested goodness ! 
 
 And now, with love to Mrs. F., and Mrs. S. (God bless her !), 
 And hoping that my foolish rhyme may not prove a transgressor. 
 And wishing for your sake and mine, it wiser were and wittier, 
 I leave it, and subscribe myself, your old friend, 
 
 John G. Whittier.
 
 LETTERS AND WORK. 163 
 
 TO MRS. J. T. FIELDS. 
 
 Bevkrly, June 21, 1866. 
 
 Dear Annie, — Here I am once more by the salt 
 sea, and out of the beautiful retreat of the Shakers, 
 where we said " Good-by." 
 
 " Aimt Mary " told me I might come again, and 
 if it were not for the vision of that great dining- 
 room, and the " two settings " of brethren and sis- 
 ters, and the general wash-basin, I should almost be 
 tempted to go also, and steej) myself in that great 
 quietness : only one would need a book now and 
 then, and literature seems to be tabooed among 
 them. 
 
 Mr. Whittier was much interested to hear of our 
 adventures. I think I must have been eloquent 
 about cider, for he said, " I wish I had some of it 
 this minute," so earnestly that I wished I had my 
 hand upon that invisible Shaker barrel. . . . 
 
 TO MRS. CELIA THAXTER. 
 
 Beverly, July 16, 1867. 
 
 My dear Friend, — To think that yesterday I 
 was among the Enchanted Isles, and to-day here, 
 with only the warm murmur of the west wind among 
 the elms ! The glory of the day and the far east- 
 ern sea lingers with me yet. How I do thank you 
 for those three bright days ! The undercurrent of 
 memory woidd have been too much but for your 
 kindness. 
 
 I think I kept it well covered, but there was a
 
 1G4 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 vast unrest in me, all those days. I seemed to my- 
 self wandering over the turfy slopes, and the rocks, 
 and the sea, in search of a dream, a sweet, impal- 
 pable presence that ever eluded me. I never knew 
 how fully dear Lizzie ^ filled my heart, until she was 
 gone. Is it always so ? But that Island is Lizzie 
 to me, now. It was the refuge of her dreams, when 
 she could not be there in reality. Her whole being 
 seemed to blossom out into the immense spaces of 
 the sea. I am glad that I have been there once 
 again, and with only the dear brother, and you 
 whom she loved and admired so much. For you are 
 an enchantress. It is a great gift to attract and 
 to hold as you can, and rare, even among women. 
 To some it is a snare, but I do not believe it ever 
 can be to you, because the large generosity of the 
 sea was born into you. How can you help it, if 
 your waves overblow with music, and all sorts of 
 mysterious wealth upon others of us humans? I 
 hope you beguiled our friend into a stay of more 
 than the one day he spoke of. It was doing him so 
 much good to be there, in that free and easy way; 
 just the life he ought to lead for half the year, 
 at least. I shall always use my meagre arts most 
 earnestly to get him to the Island when you are 
 there. There is such a difference in human atmos- 
 pheres, you know ; the petty, east- wind blighted in- 
 habitants of towns are not good for the health of 
 such as he. I esteem it one of the wonderfid bless- 
 ings of my life that he does not feel uncomfortable 
 1 Elizabeth Whittier.
 
 LETTERS AND WORK. 165 
 
 when I am about. With you, there is the added 
 element of exhilaration, the rarest thing to receive, 
 as one gets into years. 
 
 It is a sacred trust, the friendship of such a man. 
 
 TO MISS JEAN INGELOW. 
 
 Beverly, Mass., December 15, 1867. 
 
 My dear Miss Ingelow, — It was very kind of 
 you to write to me, and I can hardly tell you how 
 much pleasure your letter gave me, in ray at present 
 lonely and unsettled life. I think a woman's life 
 is necessarily lonely, if unsettled : the home-instinct 
 lies so deep in us. But I have never had a real 
 home since I was a little child. I have married 
 sisters, with whom I stay, when my work allows it, 
 but that is not like one's own place. I want a 
 corner exclusively mine, in which to spin my own 
 web and ravel it again, if I wish. 
 
 I wish I could leai*n to think my own thoughts 
 in the thick of other people's lives, but I never 
 could, and I am too old to begin now. However, 
 there are compensations in all things, and I would 
 not be out of reach of the happy children's voices, 
 which echo round me, although they will break in 
 upon me rather suddenly, sometimes. 
 
 You asked about the sea, — our sea. The coast 
 here is not remarkable. Just here there is a deep, 
 sunny harbor, that sheltered the second company 
 of the Pilgrim settlers from the Mother-Country, 
 more than two centuries ago. A little river, 
 which has leave to be such only at the return of the
 
 166 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 tide, half clasps the town in its crooked arm, and 
 makes many an opening of beauty twice a day, 
 among the fields and under the hills. The harbor is 
 so shut in by islands, it has the effect of a lake ; and 
 the tide comes up over the wide, weedy flats, with 
 a gentle and gradual flow. There are never any 
 dangerous " High Tides " here. But up the shore 
 a mile or two, the islands drift away, and the sea 
 opens gradually as we near the storm-beaten point 
 of Cape Ann, where we can see nothing but 
 the waves and the ships, between us and Great 
 Britain. The granite cliffs grow higher towards 
 the Cape, but their hollows are relieved by little 
 thickets of intensely red wild roses, and later, by 
 the purple twinkling asters and the golden-rod's 
 embodied sunshine. 
 
 The east wind is bitter upon our coast. The 
 wild rocks along the Cape are strewn with mem- 
 ories of shipwreck. Perhaps you remember Long- 
 fellow's " Wreck of the Hesperus." The " Reef of 
 Norman's Woe " is at Cape Ann, ten miles or so 
 from here. About the same distance out, there 
 is a group of islands, — the Isles of Shoals, which 
 are a favorite resort in the summer, and getting to 
 be somewhat too fashionable, for their charm is the 
 wildness which they reveal and allow. Dressed 
 up people spoil nature, somehow ; iinintentionally, 
 I suppose ; but the human butterflies are better in 
 their own parterres. At Appledore, one of the 
 larger of these islands, I have spent many happy 
 days with the sister of our poet Whittier, now
 
 LETTERS AND WORK. 167 
 
 passed to the eternal shores, — and the last sum- 
 mer was there again, without her, alas ! I missed 
 her so, even though her noble brother was there ! 
 Perhaps that only recalled the lost, lovely days too 
 vividly. I have seldom loved any one as I loved her. 
 
 These islands are full of strange gorges and 
 caverns, haunted with stories of pirate and ghost. 
 The old-world romance seems to have floated to 
 them. And there I first saw your English pim- 
 pernel. It came here with the Pilgrims, I suppose, 
 as it is not a native. It is j^leasant to meet with 
 these emigrant flowers. Most of them are carefully 
 tended in gardens, but some are healthily natural- 
 ized in the bleakest spots. I should so like to see 
 the daisies — Chaucer's daisies — in their native 
 fields; and the "yellow primrose," too. Neither 
 of these grows readily in our gardens. I have seen 
 them only as petted house-plants. 
 
 I recognize some of our wild flowers in your 
 " Songs of Seven." By the way, Mr. Niles has 
 sent me an illustrated cojjy of it, and what a gem 
 it is ! But I hardly know what are especially ours. 
 Have you the tiny blue four-jjetaled " Houstonia 
 CcErulia " ? — our first flower of spring, that and the 
 rock-saxifrage ! And is October in England glad- 
 dened with the heavenly azure of the fringed gen- 
 tian ? And does the climbing bitter-sweet hang its 
 orange-colored frviit high in the deep green of the 
 pine-trees, in the autumn? The most wonderful 
 climber I ever saw was the trumpet-vine of the 
 AVest. It grew on the banks of the Mississippi,
 
 1G8 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 climbing- to the top of immense primeval trees, 
 bursting- out, there, into great red, clarion - like 
 flowers. It seems literally to fix a foot in the trees 
 as it climbs, — and it has an uncivilized way of 
 pulling the shingles off the roofs of the houses over 
 which it is trained. I am glad that violets are 
 common property in the world. The prairies are 
 blue with them. How at home they used to make 
 me feel ! for they are New England blossoms too. 
 
 I wonder if you like the mountains as well as 
 you do the sea. I am afraid I do, and better, even. 
 It seems liaK disloyal to say so, for I was born here ; 
 to me there is rest and strength, and aspiration 
 and exultation, among the mountains. They are 
 nearly a day's journey from us — the White Moun- 
 tains — but I will go, and get a glimpse and a breath 
 of their glory, once a year, always. I was at Winni- 
 piseogee, a mountain-girdled lake, in New Hamp- 
 shire, when I saw your handwriting, first, — in a 
 letter which told of your having been in Switzer- 
 land. We have no sky-cleaving Alps, — there is a 
 massiveness, a breadth, about the hill scenery here, 
 quite unlike them, I fancy. But such cascades, 
 such streams as rise in the hard granite, pure as 
 liquid diamonds, and with a clear little thread of 
 music ! 
 
 I usually stop at a village on the banks of the 
 Pemigewasset, a small silvery river that flows from 
 the Notch Mountains, — a noble pile, that hangs 
 like a dream, and flits like one too, in the cloudy 
 air, as you follow the stream's winding up to the
 
 LETTERS AND WORE. 169 
 
 Flume, which is a strange grotto, cut sharply down 
 hundreds of feet through a mountain's heart; an 
 immense boulder was lodged in the cleft when it 
 was riven, half way down, and there it forever 
 hangs, over the singing stream. The sundered 
 rocks are dark with pines, and I never saw any- 
 thing lovelier than the green light with which the 
 grotto is flooded by the afternoon sun. But I 
 must not go on about the mountains, or I shall 
 never stop, — I want to say something about our 
 poets, but I Avill not do that, either. 
 
 Beauty drifts to us from the mother-land, across 
 the sea, in argosies of poetry. How rich we are 
 with Old England's wealth! Our own lies yet 
 somewhat in the ore, but I think we have the genu- 
 ine metal. 
 
 How true it is, as you say, that we can never 
 utter the best that is in us, poets or not. And the 
 great true voices are so, not so much because they 
 can speak for themselves, but because they are the 
 voices of our common humanity. 
 
 The poets are but leaders in the chorus of souls, 
 — they utter our paeans and our misereres^ and so 
 we feel that they belong to us. It is indeed a 
 divine gift, the power of drawing hearts upward 
 through the magic of a song ; and the anointed ones 
 must receive their chrism with a holy humility. 
 They receive but to give again, — " more blessed " 
 so. And they may also receive the gratitude of 
 those they bless, to give it back to God. 
 
 I hope you will write to me again some time,
 
 170 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 tliough I am afraid I ought not to expect it. I 
 know what it is to have the day too short for the 
 oceiijjations which must fill it, — to say nothing of 
 what might, very pleasantly, too. 
 
 But I shall always be sincerely and gratefully 
 yours, Lucy Larcom. 
 
 TO J. G. WHITTIER. 
 
 Bevekly, February 28, 1868. 
 
 My dear Friend, — Nothing would be pleas- 
 anter to me than a visit to Amesbury, and the cold 
 weather is no especial drawback. But I cannot be 
 away from Beverly now, my mother is so ill. She 
 has been suffering very much all winter, but is now 
 nearly helpless, and I think she is rapidly failing. 
 She has an experienced nurse with her, and there 
 is little that any of us can do for her, except to 
 look in now and then, and let her know that her 
 children are not far away. That seems to be her 
 principal earthly comfort. The coming rest is very 
 welcome to her. She lies peacefully hoping for it, 
 and she has suffered, and still does, such intense 
 pain, I cannot feel as I otherwise would about her 
 leaving us. But the rending of these familiar ties 
 is always very hard to bear. She has been a good, 
 kind mother to me, and it is saddest of all to see 
 her suffer without the power of relief ; to know that 
 death only can end her pain. 
 
 I think of you often, and wish I could sit down 
 for an evening by the light of your cheery wood 
 fire, and have one of the old-time chats. I am so
 
 LETTERS AND WORE. 171 
 
 glad that A is there, to make it homelike. I 
 
 think my most delightful remembrances of Ames- 
 bury are of that fireside, and the faces gathered 
 about it, upon which the soft flow of the flames 
 flickered and. kindled, with the playful and vary- 
 ing interchange of thought. Last Sunday night I 
 spent at Harriet Pitman's. Cold enough it was, 
 too. But the greenhouse is a small edition of the 
 tropics, and full of blossoms and sweet odors. I 
 should want to live in it, if I were there. 
 
 I do not know what to make of the aspect of 
 things at Washington. It cannot be that we shall 
 be left to plunge into another war, and yet we may 
 need it. I do not see that our terrible struggle 
 made the deep impression it should in establish- 
 ing national principles. Only apathy to the most 
 vital interests could have brought us to this pass. 
 It seems as if A. J. must show himself an absolute 
 fiend, before his removal is insisted upon. 
 
 Miss Larcom's mother died March 14, 1868. 
 The bereavement was great; but the long illness 
 had prepared her daughter for the affliction. Years 
 afterwards she used to say that when in trouble or 
 despondency, like a child she wanted to cry out for 
 her mother.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 WRITINGS AND LETTERS. 
 
 1868-1880. 
 
 Though Miss Larcom's formal connection with 
 school life ended when she left Norton, she con- 
 tinued to deliver occasional, and sometimes weekly, 
 lectures at different schools, on topics illustrating 
 English literature. In 1867, and at intervals for 
 years after, at the Ipswich Academy, at Wheaton, 
 at Dr. Gannett's school, and at Bradford Academy, 
 the students never forgot her addresses on " Crit- 
 icism," " Elizabethan Poetry," " The Drama," and 
 " Sidney's 'Arcadia.' " 
 
 In spite of the fact that she received a fair salary 
 from '' Our Young Folks," and added to her re- 
 sources by teaching and by printing poems in the 
 magazines, it was necessary for her to practice econ- 
 omy. With the intention of being careful in her 
 expenditures, she took rooms in Boston, purchasing 
 and cooking her own food. She alluded to the plan 
 thus : " In my housekeeping plan, I am going to 
 carry out a pet notion. People generally prefer 
 indigestible food, I find ; at least, I cannot often get 
 what I can digest. So I am going to teach myself 
 to make unleavened bread, and all sorts of coarse-
 
 WHITINGS AND LETTERS. 173 
 
 grained eatables, and these, with figs and dates, 
 and baked apples, and a little meat now and then, 
 will keej) me in clover." Her friends, hearing of 
 the way in which she " caricatured housekeeping," 
 sent her boxes full of good things. It was with 
 the pleasure of a school girl receiving a Thanksgiv- 
 ing box, that she acknowledged the receipt of eggs, 
 cranberries, apples, and " such exquisitely sweet 
 butter." She proved that with very little expense 
 one can be happy, if the spirit is cheerful. This 
 incident is an illustration of a lifetime of economi- 
 cal living. 
 
 The year 1868 was an important one to her, for 
 in it her first volume of verse was printed. Influ- 
 enced by the wishes of her friends for a keepsake, 
 and feeling that, if she published, it would be a 
 record of work done, and from it, as a mile-stone, 
 she would be encouraged to do better verse-making 
 in the future, she launched upon the literary market 
 her book, entitled simply "Poems." It contained 
 many of the lyrics upon which her fame as a poet 
 will always be based. " Hannah," and " Skipper 
 Ben," and " Hilary " have a place in it. " Hand in 
 Hand with Angels " keeps before one the thought 
 of unseen spiritual presences. "A Year in Hea- 
 ven " reminds one of the life beyond, while "At the 
 Beautiful Gate " expresses the longing of the soul 
 for greater truth : — 
 
 " Lord, open the door, for I falter, 
 I faint in this stifled air." 
 
 The sweet quietude of "The Chamber called
 
 174 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 Peace " surrounds the reader, for it merited Mr. 
 Wliittier's remark that " it is really one of the 
 sweetest poems of - Christian consolation I have 
 read." The rich, full notes of " A Thanksgiving " 
 are heard, as a human soul pours forth its earnest 
 gratitude : — 
 
 " For the world's exhaustless beauty, 
 I thank thee, my God ! " 
 
 About this poem, Rev. J. W. Chadwick said to her, 
 " Your " Thanksgiving " has become ritual in my 
 church. If the people did not hear it every year, 
 they would think the times were out of joint." 
 
 Miss Ingelow wrote her that she liked best " A 
 White Sunday," with its hopeful lines, expressing 
 " the earnest expectation of the creature : " — 
 
 " The World we live in wholly is redeemed ; 
 Not man alone, but all that man holds dear : 
 His orchards and his maize ; forget-me-not 
 And heart's-ease, in his garden ; and the wild 
 Aerial blossoms of the untrained wood, 
 That makes its savagery so home-like ; all 
 Have felt Christ's sweet Love watering their roots 
 His Sacrifice has won both Earth and Heaven." 
 
 The " Poems " were well received everywhere, and 
 the reviewers were generally most complimentary. 
 It was seen at once that a real poet, of true inspi- 
 ration, had taken a permanent place in American 
 literature. The musical modulations of the verse, 
 with its tender lyrical quality, its local New Eng- 
 land coloring, and its strong moral sentiment, soon 
 gained her the affections of the people. 
 
 The name " Lucy Larcom " was now well known ;
 
 WRITINGS AND LETTERS. 175 
 
 but, curiously enough, it was not associated with 
 her personality, for it was thought to be a fictitious 
 name, with " Apt alliteration's artful aid.'" A habit 
 common among certain authors of the day was to 
 have such euphonious no77is de plume as " Minnie 
 Myrtle," " Fanny Forrester," " Grace Greenwood ; " 
 and it was natural that " Lucy Larcom " should 
 be classed with them. She often had amusing 
 encounters with strangers about her identity. On 
 the cars one day, a woman changed her seat for 
 one in front of Miss Larcom, and, turning round, 
 put the question, " Are you really Lucy Larcom, 
 the poet? Some one said you were." 
 
 " Yes, that is my name." 
 
 " Then it is not a made-up name ? Well, we 
 never thought it was real when we read your pieces ; 
 and we thought you were younger." 
 
 " I am sorry to disappoint you." 
 
 " Oh ! You don't disappoint me ! I like the 
 looks of you ; only, people will have their ideas 
 about poets." 
 
 A gentleman who had just been introduced to 
 her was discussing the subject of names. He asked 
 the derivation of her name; she told him that it 
 was originally " Lark-Holme," the home of the 
 larks ; then he said, " Is there not some one who 
 takes your name, and writes poetry, calling herself 
 ' Lucy Larcom ' ? I never read any of the stuff." 
 
 In 1872, she did her first work of collaboration 
 with Mr. Whittier. Conceiving the plan of print- 
 ing a volume of poems dealing with the life of
 
 176 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 children, lie secured her aid, and "Child -Life" 
 was the first book which they produced in this way. 
 He deferred to her judgment in the selection of 
 the material, and, when doubtful, he always ac- 
 cepted her opinion. In sending her some poems 
 for the collection, he wrote, " I leave thee to thy 
 judgment ; I think they will do, but I defer to thy 
 wisdom." Her name is thus associated with the 
 happy hours of many children, who were, and are, 
 brought up on the wholesome verses of this nursery 
 book. " The Owl and the Pussycat," " The Spider 
 and the Fly," and " Philip, my King," with appro- 
 priate pictures, first became known to thousands of 
 children, from this green-covered daily companion. 
 
 " Child-Life in Prose " came as a natural sequel 
 to child-life in poetiy ; and Hawthorne's " Little 
 Annie's Ramble," Lamb's " Dream Children," 
 " The Ugly Duckling " of Hans Andersen, and 
 " The Story without End," were made familiar 
 through the medium of its pages. 
 
 Doubtless influenced by these publications, Miss 
 Larcom decided to print, in a volume of her own, 
 the children's poems she had written, especially 
 those for " Our Young Folks ; " so in 1873 her 
 " Childhood Songs " appeared. 
 
 Amesbury, November 25, 1874. 
 
 Dear Friend, — I have just been looking over 
 the beautiful book of "Childhood Songs," and my 
 judgment is, that it is the best book of the kind I 
 have ever seen. It has many poems, which, beside
 
 WBITINGS AND LETTERS. Ill 
 
 their adaptation to children, have a merit as lyrics, 
 which I do not know where to look for in other col- 
 lections of this sort. The heart is generally right 
 in such books, but here head and heart are both sat- 
 isfactory. 
 
 We did not get uj) so good a book as this in our 
 « Child-Life." Thy friend, 
 
 J. G. Whittier. 
 
 TO MRS. MARY MAPES DODGE. 
 
 Beverly Farms, December 3, 1874. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Dodge, — The publishers assure 
 me that they sent you a copy of "Childhood's 
 Songs," as I requested. I hope you received it, at 
 last. I care to have you like it, as a lover of chil- 
 dren, quite as much as to have it spoken of in the 
 magazine. 
 
 Your own little book must be nice ; I hope to see 
 it when I go to Boston. 
 
 Doubtless you are right about the verses. I al- 
 ways accept an editor's decision, without objecting, 
 as I know the difficulties of the position. I will 
 write when I can. For a month or two, I shall be 
 specially busy, and possibly may not have time for 
 " St. Nicholas," for which it is a pleasure to write. 
 Yours most truly, LuCY Larcom. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 Beverly Farms, December 30, 1874. 
 My DEAR Mrs. Dodge, — Your charming 
 " Ehymes and Jiugies " followed your pleasant
 
 178 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 note, and I thank you for both. The book is just 
 what chihlren most enjoy, as a real mother's book 
 will be sure to be ; and you have some sweet little 
 poems which seem to hide themselves too modestly 
 among the merry rhymes. 
 
 I think I have the mother- feeling, — ideally, 
 at least ; a woman is not a woman quite, who lacks 
 it, be she married or single. The children — God 
 bless them ! — belong to the mother-heart that beats 
 in all true women. They seem even dearer, some- 
 times, because I have none of my own to love and 
 be loved by, for there is a great emptiness that 
 only child-love can fill. So God made us, and I 
 thank Him for it. The world's unmothered ones 
 would be worse off if it were not so. 
 
 Thank you for writing of yourself, and your boys. 
 I wish I knew you, face to face. I am sure we 
 should find ourselves in sympathy in many ways. 
 
 I send a verse or two, for by and by, when the 
 March winds blow. 
 
 When I get to a little clearing of leisure, I will 
 write more for " St. Nicholas." 
 
 Truly your friend, 
 
 Lucy Larcom. 
 
 TO MES. J. T. FIELDS. 
 
 Beverly Farms, December 5, 1875, 
 
 Dear Annie, — I had a pleasant little visit at 
 Mrs. Pitman's after I left you. "W e went to Pro- 
 fessor Thayer's, in Cambridge, that evening, and 
 heard Emerson's noble paper on " Immortality,''
 
 WRITINGS AND LETTERS. 179 
 
 which is soon to be published. There is great sat- 
 isfaction in hearing such words from such a man's 
 own lips, for we know that Emerson has as little as 
 mortal can have of the haze of vanity between him- 
 self and the truth ; and it is this surely, oftener 
 than anything else, that blinds men's minds to the 
 open secret of eternal life. 
 
 Mr. Longfellow was there, and I had a pleasant 
 talk with him. He spoke of the book he is prepar- 
 ing and told me he wanted to put into it " Hannah 
 Binding Shoes." 
 
 Mr. Garrison and Henry Vincent, the lecturer, 
 were at Mrs. P.'s the next day. 
 
 I have been in Newburyport since I left Somer- 
 ville, at my friend Mrs. Spalding's. Mr. Whittier 
 came there on his way from Boston, and I did not 
 see that he was the worse for the woman-avalanche 
 that descended upon him at your door. . . . 
 
 In 1875, " An Idyl of Work," dedicated to work- 
 ing women, was issued by Osgood & Co. It is a 
 long poem in blank verse, written chiefly in pen- 
 tameters, and describes most beautifully the life of 
 the Lowell factory girls, in " The Forties." There 
 is a song of delight in work, running through it all. 
 The incidents of prosaic labor are invested with a 
 charm ; and the toiler's lot is shown to have its 
 bright side in the community of womanly interests 
 that develop strong traits of character, and lead 
 to lifelong attachments. It is an ejiic of labor, 
 giving a history of an episode in American manu-
 
 180 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 facture, that proved how mental and moral culture 
 can be aided by hand-work, when the laborer looks 
 upon his occupation as his privilege. 
 
 In the following year, " Roadside Poems," a well- 
 edited compilation of mountain poetry, added a new 
 interest to the country and the mountains, for the 
 summer traveler. Shelley, Wordsworth, Longfel- 
 low, Browning, and Lowell, were made to act as 
 interpreters of the wonders of the lane, and the 
 beauty of the sunrise over mountain sanctuaries, and 
 to explain the meaning of the storm reverberating 
 among the hills. It is a little book filled with 
 glimpses of the sky, the fragrance of flowers, the 
 earth-smell of ferns, and the coloring of autumn 
 leaves. 
 
 TO J. G. WHITTIER. 
 
 83 Waltham Street, Boston, 
 January 1, 1878. 
 
 ... Of course you must have grown very tired 
 of the poetry written to you, and about you. I sent 
 my verses to the " Transcript," because I thought 
 you seemed too much pleased to think I had spared 
 you the infliction ! Discipline can never come too 
 late in life, I am confident ! 
 
 Still, I did n't say a word more than the truth, 
 and I think I spoke sincerely for many others. It 
 is a great thing to have won a nation's affection, 
 — much greater than the greatest amount of mere 
 fame. 
 
 Judging from our own inside view, none of us
 
 WEITINGS AND LETTERS. 181 
 
 deserve to be as well thought of by our friends as 
 we are ; but the beauty of it is, that real friendship 
 knows us best after all, because it sees in us our 
 best aim, endeavor, and possibilities, and lets our 
 failures and imperfections jsass by and be forgotten. 
 Why not, when the judge is always so imperfect, 
 too? 
 
 The sum of which is, that we all think you a 
 pretty good sort of man, as men go. 
 Always thy friend, 
 
 Lucy Larcom. 
 
 TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING. 
 
 83 Waltham Street, January 17, 1878. 
 
 I have been reading the Book of Romans through, 
 trying to forget that I had ever read it before, and 
 I find that " justification by faith " seems to me a 
 very different doctrine from the one I was brought 
 up on. I don't know that I should understand it as 
 Luther did. But it seems to me grander than I 
 have dreamed of before. It is freedom to stand 
 with our faces to the light, whatever our past may 
 have been ; freedom to do right from the love of it, 
 and not as burdensome duty; and the love of doing 
 right as the proof of deliverance. Is not this the 
 " grace wherein ye stand," which Paul jireached as 
 free grace in Christ ? 
 
 I find very little in the Book of Romans which 
 points to Bome future salvation. It is the life re- 
 deemed from love of sin, which he seems to be talk- 
 ing to the Romans about. I do wish religion were
 
 182 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 made more practical in theology, after this Paul- 
 ine fashion. I do not care for any commentator's 
 judgment. I think that common sense and a sin- 
 cere desire for truth will be shown the right inter- 
 pretation. . . . 
 
 During part of the winter of 1878, Miss Larcom 
 made her only foreign trip — a visit to Europe never 
 being possible, on account of the expense — to Ber- 
 muda, which she thoroughly enjoyed. She wrote 
 letters to the Boston " Daily Advertiser," describing 
 the "Still vexed Bermoothes," with enthusiastic 
 appreciation. The recollection of Miranda and 
 Prospero, with " hag-born " Caliban, interested her 
 as much as the houses with walls of coral, or the 
 transparency of the beryl sea, through which one 
 could see the sjaonges, and large purple amenones, 
 and fish of brilliant hues. " A banana plantation 
 is rather a shabby-looking affair; the leaves are 
 beaten to tatters by the island tempests ; but for 
 a contrast there is the royal palm, to see which 
 for the first time is an era in one's life, lifting its 
 stately column above the cocoanut and India rub- 
 ber trees. And we are satisfied that roses smell no 
 less sweet for growing on the border of an onion 
 patch. After all this wonder of foreign growths 
 it is pleasant to see a dandelion in flower, and to 
 find little mats of pimpernel on the hillside before 
 our hotel. These little home-blossoms deepen the 
 home feeling, and we are no more foreigners, even 
 here."
 
 WRITINGS AND LETTERS. 183 
 
 A poem full of semi-tropical scenery, written on 
 this trip, appeared in " Harper's Magazine : " — 
 
 " Under the eaves of a southern sky, 
 
 Where the cloucl-roof bends to the ocean floor, 
 Hid in lonely seas, the Bermoothes lie, 
 
 An emerald cluster that Neptune bore 
 Away from the covetous earth-god's sight, 
 And placed in a setting of sapphire light." 
 
 For " pot-boilers," Miss Larcom undertook various 
 inferior kinds of literary work, such as compi- 
 lations of poetical calendars, and short biographi- 
 cal notices of famous people. One of her books of 
 this class, " Landscape in American Poetry," with 
 beautiful illustrations by Mr. J. Appleton Brown, 
 was published in 1879. There was some original 
 writing in it, but in the main, it was a collection 
 from many sources, of poems dealing with interest- 
 ing places in America. 
 
 TO MKS. E. B. WHEATON. 
 
 627 Tremont Street, Boston, 
 January 27, 1879. 
 
 My deah Mes. Wheaton, — I have been in- 
 tending to write, ever since I was at Norton, and 
 tell you how much I enjoyed being there, and return- 
 ing to the spirit of my old days at the Seminary. 
 
 I was so ill the last years of my stay there, I 
 hardly knew how much of a home it was to me. 
 To go back in restored health was a revelation of 
 the old joy in my work. I think there must be 
 something of the same feeling in looking back from
 
 184 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 the better world we hope for, when we have passed 
 from this. We shall never know how good and 
 beautiful a world we have lived in until we get 
 away from it, and can get a glimpse of it with all 
 our weariness and cares laid aside. 
 
 I think a great deal of the beautiful atmosphere 
 which pervades the Norton life is due to the gener- 
 ous idea in which the school was founded. It gives 
 the place a home feeling rarely found in such 
 schools. Ever truly yours, 
 
 Lucy Larcom. 
 
 TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING. 
 
 Boston, December 6, 1879. 
 When I came home from the reception and 
 breakfast given to Dr. Holmes on Wednesday, I 
 thought I would sit down and write you about it at 
 once. . . . The breakfast was a splendid success ; 
 you have probably read about it, but there was a 
 certain exhilaration in being in the presence of so 
 many bright people, and feeling perfectly at home, 
 which was indescribable. I never expected to enjoy 
 anything of the kind at all, but I was really taken 
 off my feet, in a figurative sense. Dr. Holmes 
 filled the place of honor in a delightful manner. 
 It was really like sitting down at his own breakfast 
 table. Mrs. Whitney and I went at twelve as in- 
 vited. I left at a little past six and they were not 
 through with their letters and speeches then. I 
 was introduced to ever so many people I never saw 
 before.
 
 WRITINGS AND LETTERS. 185 
 
 ... I don't know biit the pleasantest thing to me 
 was the opportunity of sjDeaking to Rev. Phillips 
 Brooks, or rather of hearing him speak face to face. 
 To look up into his honest, clear eyes, was like see- 
 ing the steady lights in a watch-tower ; and a tower 
 of strength he is among us. The outward largeness 
 of the man is a type of his moral strength and men- 
 tal breadth and spiritual height, I am more than 
 ever convinced. I never spoke to a man who 
 seemed so thoroughly grand to me. 
 
 Mr. Whittier came, but remained a very short 
 time. I saw him only a moment, just before we 
 went in. My escort — they were all coupled off 
 by a printed plan — was Mr. William Winter, a 
 New York poet and journalist. He was very en- 
 tertaining, and I think his poem was the best and 
 most effective of the occasion. 
 
 ... I am fast getting to be a dissipated woman, 
 but I must and will put myself to work steadily for 
 a week or two. 
 
 This was the first meeting between Miss Larcom 
 and Mr. Brooks. She had heard him preach at 
 Trinity Church and was greatly helped by his 
 sermons, for which she had often thanked him by 
 letter, and, in return, had received some few charac-= 
 teristic lines, like the following : — 
 
 Boston, April 14, 1879. 
 
 My dear Miss Larcom, — The preaching of 
 Christ as a personal friend and Saviour of all our
 
 186 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 soiils becomes to me more and more the one inter- 
 esting work of life, and the readiness of the people 
 to hear that one simple message, which, in its end- 
 lessly various forms, is always the same, gives me 
 ever new satisfaction and delight. 
 
 I have known you by your verses for years. I 
 hope some day we may meet. 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Phillips Brooks. 
 
 The friendship between them deepened, as the 
 years went on. They had many serious conversa- 
 tions on spiritual subjects, and he became to her 
 the great religious guide of her life. His personal- 
 ity, with its earnest, and even fiei'ce, love for the 
 simplicity of truth, and the power with which he 
 presented it, made the deepest impression upon 
 her In her last decade, and brought to the fruition 
 of spiritual loveliness the remaining years of her 
 career. 
 
 Boston, March 20, 1880. 
 My dear Miss Larcom, — You will allow me 
 to thank you for your note and to say how truly 
 glad I am if anything I said on Wednesday evening 
 helped you in your thought of the Lord's Supper. 
 To me the Personalness of the great Sacrament 
 seems to be the key to all its meaning, and its sim- 
 plicity is its grandeur and its charm. 
 Ever yours sincerely, 
 
 Phillips Brooks.
 
 WBITINGS AND LETTERS. 187 
 
 TO MRS. S. I. SPALDIXG. 
 
 627 Tremont Street, 
 February 12, 1880. 
 
 , . . You must be disheartened often, in having 
 to listen to the vagaries of the many who have or- 
 dained themselves prime ministers of divine affairs* 
 I really cannot feel it right to put myself in the 
 way of hearing such talk. 
 
 What can the end be, since there is common sense 
 among the people, but a disgust for preaching alto- 
 gether ? 
 
 But I believe in a movement towards a service 
 in which worship shall be the chief element ; and I 
 don't think I am a step nearer Episcopacy, either. 
 I am trying to like that, because I have always 
 been unjustly prejudiced against it, but [ am a 
 born Independent at heart. . . . 
 
 The years of Miss Larcom's greatest poetical 
 production were brought to a close by the printing, 
 in 1880, of " The Wild Roses of Cape Ann." Her 
 works were bound together in a Household Edition, 
 in 1884. After this, she wrote continually for the 
 magazines, and on anniversary occasions of various 
 kinds. Some of these verses were included, with a 
 tew new ones, in the booklet " Easter Gleams," and 
 m the selection of religious poems, called " At the 
 Beautiful Gate," but no noted additions were made 
 to her poems after this, though there are many 
 of her lines of great beauty, scattered through the
 
 188 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 pages of current ephemeral literature, up to the 
 time of her death. 
 
 TO S. T. PICKARD. 
 
 Bethel, Me., September 30, 1880. 
 
 My dear Mr. Pickard, — I go to-morrow to 
 Berlin Falls, New Hampshire, to stay at the Cas- 
 cade House until I have finished reading my proof .^ 
 I wish to thank you for your interest in the book 
 about to be. It will have more character and more 
 local color than the other ; but I do not write for 
 critics, but for my friends, as the dedication will 
 show, and I do not care much whether critics like 
 it or not, provided my friends do. 
 
 I can conceive of no greater damjier upon one's 
 poetic attempts than the cold water of criticism. 
 It is from heart to heart, from friend to friend, 
 that I write ; and I find in that the highest inspira- 
 tion to do my best. Of course I am glad to enlarge 
 the circle of my friends in this way ; and poetry 
 has amply repaid me in the coin of friendship. 
 One gives out life in writing ; and nothing but life 
 in return — life enlarged and filled — gives any 
 true satisfaction. Of course I shall send you a 
 copy, not editorially, but personally. 
 
 The " Wild Roses " were fragrant, and delighted 
 some of the critics, even, for in addition to those 
 that grew along Cape Ann, there were many culti' 
 
 ^ Wild Bases of Cape Ann.
 
 WRITINGS AND LETTERS. 189 
 
 vated ones, that blossomed beside the still waters 
 of thought, and in the quiet retreats of medita- 
 tion : — 
 
 "A Rose is sweet, 
 No matter -where it grows : and roses grow 
 Nursed by the pure heavens, and the strengthening earth, 
 Wherever men will let them. Every waste 
 And solitary place is glad for them. 
 Since the old prophets sang, so, until now." 
 
 "Phebe" has a prominent place in the book — 
 the poem that drew from Mr. Howells, when he 
 was editor of the " Atlantic," a most graceful note of 
 acceptance : — 
 
 My dear Miss Larcom, — You take rejections 
 so sweetly, that I have scarcely the heart to accept 
 anything of yours. But I do like " Phebe," and 
 I am going to keep her. 
 
 " Shared " excited admiration ; and was pro- 
 nounced by one competent critic to be the best re- 
 ligious lyric of the decade : — 
 
 " The air we breathe, the sky, the breeze, 
 The light without us and within, 
 Life, with its unlocked treasuries, 
 God's riches, are for all to win." 
 
 The theological poem, " The Heart of God," was 
 the cause of controversy, A stranger wrote, asking 
 her to change it, for he thought it expressed too 
 clearly " the old doctrine of the Divinity of Christ." 
 She answered politely, but with a strong statement
 
 190 LUCY LAIiCOZT. 
 
 of her faith, that what he called '' the old Doctrine " 
 was the inspiration of the verses : " To me, Christ 
 is the Infinite Person, at once human and divine. 
 God exists as impersonal Spirit, but I know Him 
 only as a person through Christ. The historical 
 Christ is entirely true to me, as the only way in 
 which God could humanly be known to us. It 
 is no more impossible for me to believe that the 
 "Eternal Christ of God," the personal manifestation 
 of Deity, should veil Himself for a time with the 
 human form, than that we, in our humble person- 
 ality, as sharers of the Divine Nature, should wear 
 it as we do." The same truth she put strongly in 
 " Our Christ," when she wrote : — 
 
 " In Christ I feel the Heart of God." 
 
 Concerning this poem, the Rev. W. Garrett Horder, 
 the English hymnologist, writes that it has been 
 accorded a place in " Hymns Supplemental " for 
 Congregational churches, and was sung for the 
 first time in England, February 14, 1894, in Colby 
 Chapel, Bradford. 
 
 In making an analytical study of Miss Larcom's 
 poetry, the range of her verse becomes apparent. 
 She finds expression for her muse in almost all 
 forms of versification : the epic, as in " An Idyl of 
 Work ; " the ballad, with its merry lines, relating 
 some story of early New England days, or some de- 
 lightful old legend ; the lyric in its numerous forms, 
 — pastoral songs that breathe of the fields and 
 pretty farms, lyrics of nature in her peaceful
 
 WBITINGS AND LETTERS. 191 
 
 moods when the wayside flower dwells securely, or 
 in her grander moods when the mountains hide 
 themselves in storm-clouds, or the sea moans in the 
 deepening- tempest; lyrics of grief, when, in sol- 
 emn and plaintive strains, she chants the dirge of 
 Elizabeth Whittier, or tolls the passing bell of Lin- 
 coln, or sheds a tear over the grave of Garfield ; 
 and sacred lyrics, in which she deals with the 
 deepest emotions of the human heart, expressing 
 its longing after immortality, and its adoration for 
 God. The range of her verse is further enlarged 
 by the addition of the sonnet's "narrow plot of 
 ground," and the stately movement of the ode. 
 
 Her lines always have a musical flow born of in- 
 tense emotion. They have a smoothness and ripple, 
 like the flow of the summer brook, or the even 
 modulations of the tides. At times, they possess a 
 cadence not unlike what Mr. Arnold, speaking of 
 Spenser, calls "fluidity," — an effect produced by 
 combinations of melodious sounds, as in these lines 
 from " On the Beach : " — 
 
 " And glimmering beach, and plover's fliglit, 
 
 And that long surge that rolls 
 Through bands of green and purple light, 
 Are f aii-er to our human sight 
 
 Because of human souls." 
 
 Again, in " Golden-Rod : " — 
 
 " The swinging harebell faintly toUed 
 Upon the still autumnal air, 
 The golden-rod bent doAvn to hold 
 Her rows of funeral torches there."  
 
 1^2 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 And in " My Mountain : " — 
 
 " I shut my eyes in the snow-fall, 
 And dream a dream of the hills ; 
 The sweep of a host of mountains, 
 The flash of a hundred rills." 
 
 Together with the music, there is strength in her 
 verses, when she attempts to deal with subjects that 
 call for vigorous treatment. In the "Eose En- 
 throned," there is a strong grasping at the origin of 
 things, and powerful descriptions of the primeval 
 birth-throes that, from the war of elements, issued 
 forth in the fairness of creation. 
 
 " Built by the warring elements they rise. 
 
 The massive earth-foundations, tier on tier, 
 Where slimy monsters with unhuman eyes 
 Their hideous heads uprear." 
 
 In her mountain descriptions there is the same 
 power. The wind-beaten and thunder-scarred sum- 
 mit of Whiteface presents itself to her as the 
 visage of a monarch, who seems to rule the race 
 of giant hills. The effect of a mountain whose 
 slopes jDlunge into the sea is graphically given in 
 the phrase, " Plunged knee-deep in yon glistening 
 sea." Her appreciation for beautiful details of na- 
 ture, that seemed to escape the common observer, is 
 seen in her similes and epithets ; the little streams 
 winding through the marshes are called " sea-fed 
 creeks ; " the mists that rise in the evening, reflect- 
 ing the light of the descending sun, are "violet 
 mists ; " the quiet of the fields of clover, when one
 
 WRITINGS AND LETTERS. 193 
 
 is out of sound of the waves, are fitly called " sweet 
 inland silences ; " the heart of the woods, where are 
 the shadows, has its " forest crypts ; " and there are 
 " mosaics of tinted moss." 
 
 Dr. Holmes very well describes her when he says : 
 " She was as true a product of our Essex Coimty 
 soil as the bayherry ; and her nature had the chaste 
 and sweet fragrance of its fair and wholesome 
 leaves. She was a true poetess, and a noble wo- 
 man." Her writings have the genuine flavor of 
 the soil, like the perfume of the woods, or the salt 
 spray that bathes one's face along the seashore. 
 Mr. Whittier thus analyzed her powers as a poet : 
 " She holds in rare combination the healthfulness 
 of simple truth and common sense, with the fine 
 and delicate fancy, and an artist's perception of all 
 beauty." Mr. Stedman, in his "Poets of Amer- 
 ica," speaks of her as a sweet-voiced singer of 
 " orchard notes." This is a good partial descrip- 
 tion of certain of her songs, but as an estimate of 
 her poetical ability it is very limited. She was not 
 disturbed by the criticism, but wrote thus to a 
 friend. 
 
 TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING. 
 
 4 Hotel Byron, Berkeley Street, 
 Boston, March 8, 1886. 
 
 . . . Don't be troubled about "orchard-notes." 
 I consider it the highest compliment. 
 
 Think of goldfinches and linnets, soug-sparrows 
 and orioles ! I know and love their separate songs.
 
 194 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 and should feel proud if I thought my singing de- 
 served comparison with theirs. Why, three fourths 
 of the cheer of the spring and summer-time is in 
 those same orchard-notes ! I shall have to try hard 
 to live up to my reputation. But if you do think I 
 get up a little higher into the air, a little farther off 
 into the wilderness sometimes, for a more meditative 
 flight of song, just remember that very high critics 
 do not always comprehend the music in the air about 
 them. Does not Milton write of Shakespeare as 
 "Fancy's child," and of his poetry as "wood-notes 
 wild"? 
 
 Such an estimate must be imperfect, because it 
 leaves out of consideration the moral power of her 
 religious writings, which, more than her nature- 
 songs, have won for her a place in the regard of 
 the people. A gentleman thanking her for the 
 gift of one of her books, expressed for many read- 
 ers a recognition of this deeper hold : " A soul 
 once fed and inspired as was mine, at a critical and 
 sad juncture of its life, by your poetry, is likely to 
 open, as I did, the beautiful book your kindness 
 sent me, with strange delight." One who could 
 write " A Thanksgiving," with its noble lines, — 
 
 " For thine own great gift of Being, 
 I thank Thee, my God," 
 
 and the words, — 
 
 " Lord, enter this house of my being 
 
 And fill every room with Thy light," —
 
 WHITINGS AND LETTERS. 195 
 
 should certainly be called a religious poet of a high 
 
 order ; and her poems are filled with such passages 
 
 as that which follows, presenting religious thought 
 
 simply and convincingly : — 
 
 " God hears 
 The prayer the good man means, the Soul's desire, 
 Under whatever rubbish of vain speech ; 
 And prayer is, must be, each man's deepest vrords. 
 He who denies its power, still uses it, 
 Whenever he names God, or thinks of Him." 
 
 Poetry, to her, was vastly more than word-shap- 
 ing, or combinations of accented and unaccented 
 syllables ; it was an attitude of mind and soul 
 towards all existence, a view-point of her being, 
 from which she saw such visions, and heard such 
 sounds, that the impulse was irresistible to record 
 in recognized poetic form her ideas and feelings. 
 She found poetry in everything around her; it 
 was the atmosphere she breathed, the medium, like 
 imponderable ether, through which she saw life. 
 Nature had a more profound meaning to her than 
 the charm of color, or the changing pleasures of 
 the land or the sea. It was the visible evidence 
 of the unseen, the prophecy of a greater fulfillment, 
 the proclamation of the spiritual element within, 
 which the senses of themselves could not perceive^ 
 She once said, "Nature is one vast metaphor 
 through which spiritual truth may be read : " — 
 
 " The Universe is one great loving Thought, 
 Written in Hieroglyphs of bud and bloom." 
 
 The delicate and spiritual nature of womanhood, 
 too, with its heroism, breathed through all she
 
 196 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 wrote. Everything she touched glowed with the 
 light of purity. Her aim was to uplift and sweeten 
 life, by a revelation of its true meaning. Her 
 measures are choice ; her passion Is genuine ; her 
 verses sincere ; and the 77iorale of them is always 
 elevating. 
 
 Our literature is not rich in women poets of the 
 highest genius, but there are many who have sung 
 true songs. Maria Lowell was permitted to give 
 us a few notes only of her chaste singing. The 
 Gary sisters, Mrs. Cook, Mrs. Greenough, and 
 Helen Hunt Jackson, and many who now enliven 
 our magazines, have done genuine work ; but one 
 often looks in vain for the power that distinguished 
 Miss Larcom. Gonsidering the range of the vers- 
 ification, the music of the lines, the strength of 
 phrase and beauty of metaphor, and lofty moral 
 intensity of her poetry, it is not claiming too much 
 to say that it exhibits a genius as versatile and as 
 rich in its utterance as that of any of her female 
 contemporaries, and considering the impression that 
 she has made upon the people, at their firesides and 
 in their worship, she holds a place, equal to any, 
 in their hearts. 
 
 Her poems have been recognized in many collec- 
 tions in our land and in England. Mr, Longfellow 
 in his " Poems of Places " has remembered her. 
 She is honored in Emerson's " Parnassus ; " one of 
 her hymns is included in Dr. Martineau's " Hymns 
 of the Spirit ; " she has been given a place, by 
 Mr. Garrett Horder, in " A Treasury of Sacred
 
 WRITINGS AND LETTERS. 197 
 
 Song from American Sonrces ; " by Mr. Higginson, 
 in " American Sonnets ; " by Mr. Eichard Grant 
 White, in "The Poetry of the Rebellion;" and 
 by Mr. W. M. Rossetti, in his "■ English Selections 
 from Popnlar Poets." 
 
 The following letter to Dr. John Hunter of 
 Glasgow shows that she enjoyed this recognition 
 of her work : — 
 
 Beverly, Mass., July 10, 1890. 
 
 Dear Sir, — A friend gave me your " Hymns of 
 Faith and Life," in the winter, telling me she had 
 found one or two of mine in it. On looking it over, 
 I find five, not all of which are credited to me, 
 though all are included in the Household Edition 
 of my poems, published by Houghton, Mifflin & 
 Co. I thought you would like to know the author- 
 ship, and therefore write. 
 
 Of course I am gratified to know that my hymns 
 were taken on their own merit apparently, and I 
 am glad if anything I have written is a natural ex- 
 pression of sincere worship for other hearts and 
 voices than my own. Truly yours, 
 
 Lucy Larcom. 
 
 The two following letters illustrate how Dr, 
 Holmes and Mr. Longfellow appreciated Miss Lar- 
 com's work. 
 
 296 Beacon Street, November 17, 1880. 
 
 My dear Miss Larcom, — I have been reading 
 your poems at all the spare moments I could find
 
 198 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 this evening. Many of them I read carefully — • 
 every page I tasted. My wife and daughter were 
 sitting opposite to me, and I had to shade my eyes 
 with my hand that they should not see the tears 
 shining in them — this over and over again. The 
 poems are eminently wholesome, sweet, natural. 
 Their perfume is as characteristic of the soil they 
 spring from as that of the sweet fern or the bay- 
 berry. 
 
 It is pleasant to me to find my name in such 
 good company as it is in your pages, and if any- 
 thing I have written has ever given you pleasure 
 this volume has amply repaid me. 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 
 O. W. Holmes. 
 
 P. S. (Worth all the rest). I got a letter from 
 Mr. Whittier which reads as follows : — 
 
 " Has thee seen Miss Larcom's " Cape Ann " ? 
 I like it, and in reading it I thought thee would 
 also. Get it and see if she has not a right to stand 
 with the rest of us. Wishing thee a pleasant 
 Thanksgiving after the manner of the enclosed card, 
 I am faithfully thy friend, J. G. Whittier." 
 
 Cambridge, December 24, 1880. 
 
 Dear Miss Larcom, — I thank you very much 
 for your beautiful volume of beautiful poems. I 
 have been reading it this morning with great en- 
 joyment. 
 
 I always liked your poetry, and now like it more
 
 WEITINGS AND LETTERS. 199 
 
 than ever. It is not merely verse, but possesses 
 the true poetic instinct and insight. 
 
 One little song among the many particularly 
 charms me. It is "At her Bedside." It ought to 
 be set to music. Thanks, and all good wishes. 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Henry W. Longfellow.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 RELIGIOUS CHANGES. 
 
 1881-1884. 
 
 The true poetic temperament lias in it an element 
 of religion ; for religion and poetry both deal with 
 the spiritual interpretation of life, and one who 
 possesses the temperament for either is conscious 
 of the vastness overshadowing common things, and 
 sees the infinite meaning of the apparent finiteness 
 of the visible world. The delicate perception of 
 truth which is a distinctive quality of the poet 
 often leads to the deep appreciation of the spirit in 
 and through nature, and enables one to feel and 
 know God. 
 
 Lucy Larcom possessed the poetic temperament, 
 with this strong element of religion. She was pre- 
 eminently religious, in the sense of possessing a 
 spiritual power, dealing continually with spiritual 
 things. She began early to interpret life in the 
 light of divine truth ; and truth made real in hu- 
 man character she considered the one thing worth 
 striving for. 
 
 Her relations to organized Christianity are par- 
 ticularly interesting. Doubtless the history of her 
 connection with the churches is a type of that of
 
 RELIGIOUS CHANGES. 201 
 
 other lives numerous in our generation that have 
 become dissatisfied with the communions in which 
 they have been trained, and after a period of un- 
 certainty and unrest have found a home in the 
 Episcopal Church. 
 
 Her religious life began in a Puritan home, and 
 in a Congregational meeting-house. The strong 
 ethical teaching of her fathers made a lasting im- 
 pression on her, and the dogmatic preaching of 
 Calvinism influenced her young life. From both 
 she gained a love for the simplicity of living which 
 characterized her career, and that clearness of con- 
 science which she always displayed. There was 
 also a joy to her under the austerity of the wor- 
 ship, and the sternness of the theology. The ser- 
 mons suggested new thoughts, which forced them- 
 selves between the sentences of the minister, and 
 in this way she preached to herself another sermon 
 than that spoken from the pulpit. 
 
 Her religious enthusiasm bore fruit at thirteen 
 years of age, in church membership, in Lowell. 
 Not many years after this she was sorry for the 
 step she had taken, for the natural broadening of 
 her mind and the deejjening of her consciousness of 
 truth led her far away from the doctrines she had 
 accepted. The sermons that she heard did not seem 
 to satisfy her needs ; she longed for spiritual nour- 
 ishment, for help on the daily path, for thoughts 
 that had some connection with actual temptations 
 and doubts. Most of the discourses dealt in<ren- 
 iously with exegetical questions, or were massive
 
 202 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 arguments used to crush the objector, or efforts to 
 prove some metaphysical doctrine. Relating one 
 Sunday's experience, which has been referred to 
 before in her diary, she said, " I went to meeting, 
 expecting and needing spiritual food, and received 
 only bui'ning coals and ashes. There was a sermon 
 to prove that Satan will be tormented for ever and 
 ever ; and the stress of the argument was to prove 
 the endlessness of his punishment." 
 
 Not only did she find a failing sympathy with 
 the preaching and worship, but there were doc- 
 trines she could not continue to hold. Amons: 
 these doctrines were, verbal inspiration of the 
 Bible, which she thought mechanical and destruc- 
 tive of the Spirit's influence through a distinc- 
 tive human personality ; the Atonement, as the 
 purchase blood of God's favor for a fallen race ; 
 predestination, which seemed to eliminate man's 
 freedom ; and endless 'punishment, adjudged for 
 acts in this life, without any probation in a future 
 state, which seemed to her contrary to the idea 
 of the Sonship of man. Neither did she care for 
 the emphasis placed on doctrine, as distinguished 
 from life. The centi'al point in her theology was 
 the truth of God's love, and from this, by logical 
 sequence, came her ideas of His revelation through 
 nature, through human life as His gift, and 
 through character as a manifestation of His glory. 
 She was a student of Maurice, who led her along 
 congenial paths of thought. On Sundays when she 
 remained away from church, she generally read a
 
 RELIGIOUS CHANGES. 203 
 
 sermon of Robertson's ; and in his powerful analy- 
 ses of truth, and in his burning love for the Mas- 
 ter, she found continued inspiration. Her love for 
 the person of Jesus increased each year. She felt 
 herself a member of the Invisible Church, being 
 contented with the thought that the visible churches 
 had no claim upon her, because of their errors. 
 
 TO J. G. WHITTIER. 
 
 627 Tkemont Street, 
 Boston, December 25, 1881. 
 
 My dear Friend, — Alone in my room this 
 evening, I feel just like writing a Christmas letter 
 to you, and I follow the impulse. 
 
 This day always brings back old times and old 
 friends to memory, but never with sadness to me, 
 because the one idea of the day is hope and joy for 
 all souls, the possibilities of infinite help, unending 
 progress. Whenever I enter deeply into the thought 
 of Christ, whenever I feel Him the one Reality in- 
 separable from my own being, then I feel that I 
 have my friends safe, and that they are to be my 
 friends forever. To me, He is the one Divine 
 Friend in whom human friendships can alone be 
 real and permanent, because He draws us into 
 sympathy with what is best, with what is eternal, 
 the love of goodness, the consciousness of God in 
 us and around us, and the solemn gladness of a 
 human life into which God has entered, and where 
 He still is. 
 
 God with us still, the Spiritual Presence of One
 
 204 LZrCY LARCOM. 
 
 who is more real than any other jierson can be to 
 us, through whom indeed we receive our personal- 
 ity, — this idea, so grand as at times to seem almost 
 impossible, grows more definite and clear to me. 
 It is the " So I am with you alway " of Christ. 
 And with this idea, that of those whom we love 
 unseen, our friends who have disappeared from 
 sight, becomes more definite also. 
 
 Sometimes I can say undoubtingly, " I know I 
 shall find them again, where He is," But though 
 the light flickers and dims sometimes, what if it 
 does ? There the light is, and every year a larger 
 space is redeemed fi*om darkness. 
 
 Oh, my dear friend ! life is a gift blessed as it is 
 awful. To think how close we are to one another 
 for good or evil, do what we will ! We cannot be 
 apart from our fellow-beings ; the pulses of this life 
 we have in common throb, upward or downward, 
 through us forever. Death is not to me half so 
 solemn as life: but then death is no reality — a 
 circumstance of our external life only. . . . 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 627 Tremont Street, 
 Boston, June 6, 1881. 
 
 ... I am steadily gaining in strength I think, 
 
 and I am glad to keep on learning to live and to 
 
 work, with such limitations as years necessarily 
 
 bring. I find my life taking deeper hold of all 
 
 other human lives ; I feel myself more closely and 
 
 warmly one of the great human family, every
 
 EELIGIOUS CHANGES. 205 
 
 year of my life. And I feel through this the as- 
 surance of immortality — because we are in our 
 deepest instincts children of the living God — be- 
 cause we, as sons and daughters, are imited through 
 the Son with the Father ; we share His eternity ; 
 we cannot lose Him nor one another, nor the least 
 spark of truth or love kindled within us from His 
 being. 
 
 I am glad that I live, and that I shall die ; that 
 I shall fall asleep to awake with all I love, with all 
 that is permanent here, in Him. 
 
 The forward outlook is full of good cheer ; for is 
 not He the Eternally Good? . . . 
 
 TO FRANKLIN CARTER. 
 
 Beverly, Mass., July 18, 1881. 
 Dear Frank, — I want to write a word of con- 
 gratulation to you, in your new position. C- 
 
 told me you thought of going to Williamstown, but 
 I did not know it was fully decided, until I saw 
 your address in a Boston paper. 
 
 It was an excellent inaugural. I felt my sympa- 
 thy go out to you as I read. I felt sure, and feel 
 sure, that you will do good in your new position, 
 which surely is a most responsible one, in a time 
 like this. I wonder if it is really a time of greater 
 unbelief than hitherto. Doubt is not an unhealthy 
 symptom ; it argues the possibility of belief. In- 
 difference to high truth seems to me worst of all, 
 the indifference that comes of too miich world, 
 which everybody seems to get suffocated in.
 
 206 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 It is a great privilege to be able to influence 
 young men to the best things, as you will be able 
 to, — to make low aims seem, as they are, unworthy 
 of manhood. God bless you and help you ! 
 
 I have lived on, doing the little I could, during 
 these last few years. I have gained in health, and 
 am always hoping to return to some steady work ; 
 but it may not be best to do so at all. I like my 
 freedom, and if I can afford to keep it, I shall. I 
 am sure it is not good for me to live in a school. 
 I sometimes wish I had earned or inherited money 
 enousrh not to have to think of the future, but 
 doubtless the Lord knows just what I need. It is 
 not best for us all to have life made easy for us, in 
 that way. 
 
 As I look back on my life, I see much reason 
 for humility. I ought to have done so much more 
 and so much better. Nevertheless the future is 
 bright, for God is good. Sometimes it seems to 
 me as if I were just learning what His forgiveness 
 means, what it is to begin every day anew, as if 
 there had been no unworthy past, as if there were 
 only His love and my desire to please Him left. 
 But I only meant to write a line. I go from here 
 to spend the " hay-fever " season among the moun- 
 tains very soon. 
 
 Always and truly yours, 
 
 Lucy Larcom. 
 
 The change in Miss Larcom's religious life came 
 when she began to attend the services of Trin-
 
 RELIGIOUS CHANGES. 207 
 
 ity Church, Boston, in 1879. The preaching of 
 Phillips Brooks was the realization, in living 
 words, of her own thought. He gave utterance 
 for her to all her broader and freer conceptions of 
 Christianity. She had known little of the Episco- 
 pal Church before going to Trinity, and she had 
 the same inherited prejudices that many, bred like 
 her, have, though she remembered with pleasure 
 St. Ann's in Lowell, during her days of wage earn- 
 ing ; but the simplicity of the worship at Trinity, 
 and the earnestness of the preacher, touched the 
 deepest chords in her life, and she realized that she 
 could be helped by them. Writing to one of her 
 friends, who urged upon her the claims of the Epis- 
 copal Church, she said : — 
 
 ... I have been very much interested in the 
 services at Trinity Church. Just think ! two 
 prayer-books came to me in one week ! one from a 
 friend in New York, from whom I had not heard 
 for a year. I do not know what special suggestion 
 I am to get from the fact, except that I am to 
 know more of the Episcopal Church. Truly I am 
 ashamed of my ignorance regarding it. I enjoy 
 the services, but I think I still strongly prefer 
 Congregational ways. If only there were a little 
 more sharing of the worship on the part of the 
 people ! I don't like to think that the minister is 
 doing it all up for me ; but that is the way of one, 
 and not of the other, decidedly. I am going to be 
 able to worship with Episcopalians as intelligently 
 as with others. . . .
 
 208 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 At another time she wrote about her church con- 
 nectlons as follows : — 
 
 ... I wish I could feel as you do, about the 
 Church. I should like to be there, but I have to 
 look upon it from the outside as an institution. 
 The real church, to which I hope I belong, seems 
 to me to be so much broader than any one form, so 
 inclusive of all denominations, that I hardly think 
 I have the right to identify myself with any ; for, 
 by so doing, I should exclude myself absolutely 
 from the rest. Now I seem to myself to belong 
 everywhere. Yet it is sometimes lonely to feel that 
 spiritually I have not where to lay my head. We 
 women crave home, a home of our own ; but we 
 must not deceive ourselves by shutting our eyes, 
 and making believe we are at home, when we are 
 not. 
 
 However, I mean to go regularly to Trinity if 
 I can, for the feeling of having free seats is more 
 comfortable than that of intruding into people's 
 pews, and I go as if I had a right to the ser- 
 vice. . . . 
 
 Her diary for 1881 and 1882 indicates the deep- 
 ening of her religious thought, and the way in 
 which the Episcopal Church was becoming known 
 to her. 
 
 Boston, November 28, 1881. Waked by distant 
 bells of Advent Sunday. As a Puritan, I have 
 known little of the Chi-istian year, in its Church
 
 RELIGIOUS CHANGES. 209 
 
 history. It is worth while to try to enter into the 
 
 spirit of all methods of true Christian worship. 
 
 I read a sermon by F. D. Maurice, one by F. W. 
 
 Robertson, and one by Phillips Brooks, all bearing 
 
 upon the idea of these Advent days. In the 
 
 " Christian Year " (Keble), an allusion is made to 
 
 one of the skeptical centuries, which seems to fit 
 
 this, in its over-scientific tendencies : — 
 
 " An age of light, 
 Light without love, glares on the aching sight." 
 
 But under all true science, — if science is indeed 
 knowledge, — we shall find Christ, since Christ is 
 the revelation of the deepest love of God. 
 
 December 4. Have been writing Christmas 
 verses, by request, the past week. Thanksgiving 
 and Christmas would blend themselves in my 
 thoughts as one festival. " For my body liveth 
 by my soul, and my soul by me " (St. Augustine). 
 " Too little doth he love Thee, who loves anything 
 with thee, which he loveth not for Thee " (/Sic?.). 
 
 December 5. Two distinct thoughts impressed 
 by the two successive evening services at Trinity 
 Church : — 
 
 A week since, — That the controversy between 
 skepticism and Christianity, as carried on quite re- 
 cently among us, does not touch the real point in 
 question, which is whether Christ, the Son of God, 
 has come into the world, and has changed it, and 
 is changing it for the better : not whether certain 
 statements of the Hebrew Scriptures can be veri- 
 fied as facts, but whether there is a living Christ.
 
 210 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 And last evening, — That the motive of the 
 Christian life, the true reason why we should be- 
 come Christians, and live as Christians, is that 
 other men may receive the blessing ; that it may 
 widen on, through us, into unknown ages. It was 
 a carrying out of St. Paul's thought, spoken to the 
 Ephesians, about the Gentile world and the "• ages 
 to come." It is the grandeur of Christianity that 
 it will not permit us to shut ourselves up in our 
 own personal or local interests, — that it belongs 
 to the whole race, and unites us to every human 
 heart. 
 
 A note from Mrs. Garfield this morning. 
 Though so nearly a stranger, she lets me in, a 
 little way, to the sacred seclusion of her sorrow, — 
 "this valley and this shadow," as she calls it. 
 She cannot see why the blow had to fall upon 
 her, — nor can we see why the country needed 
 it. The blasphemous conceit of the assassin, who 
 claims to have been inspired by the Deity, makes it 
 all the more perplexing. 
 
 One good thing ought to come of this trial, — 
 that we should all of us try to know clearly what 
 we mean, when we claim close relations with the 
 Divine Being. Too many, perhaps all of us, some- 
 times, use His name insanely, and therefore irrev- 
 erently, in our thoughts, and to cloak our errors to 
 ourselves. 
 
 Begin this morning Max MiiUer's "Science of 
 Religion," which I have never yet thoroughly 
 read.
 
 RELIGIOUS CHANGES. 211 
 
 January 1, 1882. Heard the midnight toll o£ 
 the passing Old Year at Trinity Church last night. 
 It was good to be there, and to come out into 
 the clear starlight and moonlight of the New 
 Year, with the great company that had reverently 
 gathered in the church to watch the coming in of 
 1882, — another Year of Our Lord. Rev. Mr. 
 
 's sermon was appropriate, but that old, sad, 
 
 haunting thought seemed to me to be too painfully 
 impressed, — that, whatever we do, the scars of 
 our past sins eternally remain, — that the losses 
 caused by our wrong-doing can never be made up. 
 Is it the true reading of God's forgiveness in 
 Christ ? Is not the viplifting power of the new 
 love with which His Spirit floods our life, some- 
 thing nobler than we should have known, except 
 for the pain, and the wounding, and the loss that 
 came of sin ? For the evil that has come to others 
 through us, may not a flood of good out of the 
 heart of our loving Christ overflow all, and lift 
 them, with us, to a higher stratum of life ? — I 
 must believe it — that righteousness in human souls 
 will obliterate the past evil. If it is to be remem- 
 bered no more, it must not be there, — or some 
 better thing must have come in its place. We 
 cannot tell how far God's love may extend, what 
 miracles it works. The chapter about the New 
 Jerusalem coming down from God out of heaven, 
 was read as the year was passing, and Mr. Brooks 
 made that the point of his remarks, — that the 
 coming year might be the New Jerusalem to
 
 212 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 US. In that light all darkness may surely be for- 
 gotten. 
 
 January 6, Epiphany. Went to the Church ser- 
 vice. The thought that Christ truly came to us, 
 to all the world, through His bii-th at Bethlehem, 
 and the joy of His coming, is a blessing that every- 
 body may share, and that it is more truly a bless- 
 ing because it is to be shared, was chiefly dwelt 
 upon. It struck me as a new thought, that the 
 Wise Men from the East represented all the 
 science, all the intellectual treasure of all time, 
 which are truly given to humanity only when laid 
 at the feet of Christ. The preacher did not ex- 
 press that idea, but it passed through my mind as 
 I listened. Every gift we have, every work we do, 
 only becomes a real, living, worthy thing, when 
 given to Christ to be inspired with His life. If 
 the scientific research of this age could but see the 
 star hanging over the place where the Young 
 Child lies, and find its true illumination in Him ! 
 
 January 7. Miss H called, full of enthu- 
 siasm over what she believes herself to have done 
 by healing the sick, through the power of prayer. 
 I must believe that what she says is true, — and 
 yet I question. Can this be God's way? Not 
 impossible — but I have never been able to see 
 that any prayer for definite physical results was so 
 good as that which asks to be brought into harmony 
 with the will of God, so that we sliall accept any 
 condition which He sees best for us. Yet — what 
 does the " gift of healing " mean — if not that He
 
 RELIGIOUS CHANGES. 213 
 
 permits health to flow through one life into another ? 
 
 My little crippled friend, E , does not feel 
 
 sure that she ought to ask God to make her well 
 and strong, like other girls. I wish she might be, 
 though. 
 
 January 8. Miss E. H. called. Our talk always 
 gets back to the one subject, — Christ in human 
 life. She cannot see that He is more than the 
 best of all human helpers, and yet she has flashes 
 of higher truth sometimes. I think she wishes for 
 a definite intellectual idea of the Christ, for she 
 said to me, " You make it wholly spiritual," — 
 and so the conception of him, in the human soul, 
 must be, it seems to me. She said, " I think of 
 what He was," and I think of Him, that He is, 
 and there we parted. 
 
 It is to me like the simlight : clear, penetrating, 
 inspiring, the idea of Christ who is, was, and is 
 to be, the Eternal Son of the Father, the presence 
 of God in humanity, as the friend of every soul, 
 — the uniting link between the human and the 
 divine. I feel my own personal immortality in 
 following this truth whithersoever it may lead, — 
 deeper, ever deeper, into the Heart of God, as I 
 earnestly believe. 
 
 At church the subject was the power behind all 
 human efforts, which makes them worth anything. 
 The planter and the waterer are nothing, excejjt 
 as means bringing the seed to growth, which must 
 first be alive, a force in itself, which he who tends 
 cannot produce or understand. The power of God
 
 214 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 ■behind all worthy human efforts, that we are tools 
 in the Master's hand, and must refer every good 
 result to Him, were the inferences. 
 
 Who can explain moods ? A strange depression 
 has been over me to-day, as of some impending 
 dano'er to some life near to mine. I shook it off 
 in going ovit, but I found myself imagining the 
 saddest thing that could possibly happen to me or 
 my friends, or the country, or the world. I do not 
 think I dread any one thing for myself, yet the re- 
 moval of some of my friends would leave life very 
 lonely. 
 
 January 16. Yesterday I was much instructed 
 and helped by reading one or two of Maurice's 
 sermons. The thought that forgiveness means the 
 putting away of sins is not often emj^hasized as 
 he does it, — " Power on earth to forgive sins ; " 
 that here one can lay down the burden, and go on 
 fighting the enemy with a sure hope of conquest, 
 because of that divine life and strength that 
 comes through a present Christ ; — this is release 
 indeed. Not that we shall be forgiven, but that 
 we are forgiven, if we turn to the truth in the love 
 
 of it. 
 
 And the thought of the Communion service as 
 a marriage-supper, a token that our lives are re- 
 united to the divine life, came to me with new force. 
 
 Mr. Brooks preached about heaven, in the after- 
 noon ; that it must be the continuance of life, — 
 of the highest and deepest we know here. There 
 always will be for us, God, and the "charity"
 
 RELIGIOUS CHANGES. 215 
 
 which means love. He spoke from chapter xiii., 
 I. Corinthians : " For now we see throug-h a alass 
 darkly," — carrying out the image of life blurred 
 and distorted often to us here, made clear there, 
 where only true things can remain. Keble says, 
 for yesterday, that we may — 
 
 " Through the world's sad day of strife 
 Still chant his moming song." 
 
 And why should not the music of heaven be the 
 continuing of what is the true harmony of earth ? 
 It must be. The sermon yesterday referred espe- 
 cially to the death of two ministers in the Church 
 the past week. Dr. Stone and John Cotton Smith. 
 
 January 23. Remarks at table, where surely 
 people talk very freely. One lady says that she 
 has never for an hour been glad that she was born. 
 I can scarcely think of such a thing as possible, be- 
 cause it is God's world, and if we have any real 
 glimpse of Plim we must know that there is a di- 
 vine purpose in our being here, even if we do not 
 have the " good time " in life that we think we 
 deserve. But it may be an inherited morbid feel- 
 ing, it may be an affectation, — it may be several 
 things. 
 
 Another lady states her Unitarian position that 
 " Christ was human, we know, — he must also 
 have been more than human, else he could not help 
 us, therefore he was divine ; but he could not 
 have been wholly divine, else he could not have 
 been an example for us." The last assertion is to 
 me mitrue. He must be able to help us more, be-
 
 216 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 cause He is one with the Father, nor is He less our 
 example, but more. He never gave a lower stand- 
 ard than this, — " Be ye perfect, even as your 
 Father in heaven is perfect." He surely made 
 God our only example of goodness, to learn and 
 to follow. And we know that we are made in the 
 image of God, because we cannot in our best mo- 
 ments accept any standard but this, — of perfection 
 to be sought after through eternity ; the grandeur 
 of our being is that there will always be something 
 beyond for us to seek. 
 
 Keading " Ecce Homo " for the first time, with 
 a view to studying the " Life of Christ " with a 
 friend. 
 
 February 6. Reading Renan's " Life of Jesus." 
 In the introduction, his objections to the fourth Gos- 
 pel seem to me to arise from some lack of percep- 
 tion in himself. I cannot find in it the " preten- 
 tious, heavy, badly written tirades " to which he 
 alludes. Nor does it seem to me anything against 
 the book that it was written from memory, long 
 after the death of Christ. To apply to so close 
 a friendship as that between Jesus and John the 
 passage, "Our memories are transformed with all 
 the rest ; the idea of a person whom we have known 
 changes with us," seems to me a wholly unsatis- 
 factory and vmappreciative way of putting it. If 
 friends, and such friends, do not remember each 
 other as they really are, we lose the idea of per- 
 sonal identity altogether. Yet Renan seems to 
 think that John did write the fourth Gospel, and
 
 RELIGIOUS CHANGES. 217 
 
 from the same close kind of intimacy as that which 
 existed between Socrates and Plato. We surely 
 reach the heart of Christ most closely through the 
 words of the beloved disciple, — the stories cluster' 
 ing- around the birth of Christ, which Renan dis= 
 misses as " legendary," seem to be so simply on his 
 assertion. Were they so, the character of Jesus, 
 Son of God and Son of Man, remains itself divinely 
 alone in the world's history. But I cannot see 
 more miracle in the beginning than all the way 
 through. Nor does it seem to me that it woiJd 
 have been more sacrilegious for Him to say "I am 
 God," which he never did in words affirm, Renan 
 says, than to say, as He did, " I and my Father are 
 one ; " " He that hath seen me hath seen the Fa- 
 ther." He spoke as the Son of Man, referring also 
 always to His Father, claiming to be, in the clos- 
 est sense, the Son of God. As a man. He must 
 refer to the God beyond Him, else He could not 
 have made Himself understood by men. For my- 
 self, I cannot think of God at all, except as hav- 
 ing eternally this human side, by which we hu- 
 man beings, His children, may know Him. There 
 is no unity in the idea of Him without this com- 
 plexity, which shows Plim as Father, Son, and 
 Spirit. 
 
 Yet Christ's human life was perfectly human, 
 wholly so ; and the picturesque beauty of that life, 
 the lovely scenery of Nazareth, and his wayfaring 
 company of disciples, plain countrymen, group 
 themselves very attractively on Kenan's page. The
 
 218 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 book fascinates ; it seems always based upon a 
 beautiful, yet most inadequate, conception. 
 
 February 20. Many things to remember these 
 last weeks : Mr. Whittier's visit, and my almost 
 daily glimpses of him, and talks with him, — a 
 friendship that grows more satisfactory as the years 
 deepen life. Separateness of life makes com- 
 munion of thought almost truer and more inspir- 
 ing than when people live near each other, and 
 frequently meet. I have more admiration and 
 reverence for such a man, from having foiind a 
 higher standard in life for myself from which to 
 look across and up to him. I think everybody who 
 has largeness of character like his needs perspec- 
 tive ; juxtaposition is not acquaintance. 
 
 April 27. The weeks pass too busily for record ; 
 
 also I have not been well. Read with Miss H 
 
 Maurice's " Gospel of the Kingdom," Fairbairn's 
 " Studies in the Life of Christ," Neander, " Life of 
 Christ ; " and came to Maurice's " Lectures on the 
 Gospel of St. John," which is left for future study. 
 ... A clearer light has come, and yet the sadness 
 of not living wholly in the light : the bitterness of 
 error and failure ! 
 
 I will not be morbid ; I know that there is 
 always a better self than myself, waiting to be set 
 free. But the riddles of life are perplexing. Who 
 are we ? What are we struggling for ? 
 
 I think Maurice one of the most illuminating 
 writers I ever knew. He looks into a truth, and 
 you see what he sees, if you see anything.
 
 RELIGIOUS CHANGES. 219 
 
 This stirring up of theological questions at An- 
 dover is a phenomenon of the time ; a movement 
 towards a simpler holding of truth, and let us trust 
 a greater honesty in us all in our statements of 
 belief. Opinions change, but faith lives in the 
 heart of the truth, not in its outward expression. 
 I wish some formulas could be laid aside, and that 
 we could come into a real unity of faith. 
 
 May 26. Closing days of a lovely visit at Mel- 
 rose, at the house of two of the most delightful 
 people, — a true home. 
 
 The woods close the house in around my window, 
 and the birds sing close by. A squirrel has fear- 
 lessly come in to visit me once or twice ; a flying 
 squii-rel, they say it is. The people I am with show 
 me how beautiful it is to live truth, justice, and 
 sympathy. They belong to no Church, but their 
 lives are most beautifully harmonized with the 
 spirit of Him who was, and is, the expression of 
 God's love to man. When with them I almost feel 
 as if it were better not to profess religion in 
 churches, — this li\ang testimony is so far beyond 
 what most Christians can show ; but then I remem- 
 ber that it is because God in Christ is in the world, 
 because the divinity has revealed itseK in human- 
 ity, that they are what they are. How else have 
 truth, honor, tenderness, and unselfishness, been 
 kept alive in the human hearts, but by that revela- 
 tion of the one life as the divine standard ? And 
 if the churches were all forsaken now, we should 
 see a sad falling off from among us of such peojjle
 
 220 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 as these, for most of us need constant reminders 
 that we are the children of God. We need the 
 Word, the coming together, the loving, uniting 
 memories of Him who is our life. 
 
 Longfellow and Emerson gone from us before the 
 opening of spring ! It is strange to think of New 
 England without them. But they are part of its 
 life, forever. . . . 
 
 Though Miss Larcom was progressing in her 
 knowledge of the Episcopal Church, she felt no 
 nearer an entrance into that body. She was willing 
 to enjoy the services at Trinity Church, but she did 
 not want Mr. Brooks to think, because of her con- 
 stant attendance, she had any thoughts of confir- 
 mation. So in 1884 she wrote him a letter, stating 
 her position, which he most cordially accepted, writ- 
 ing her in reply what he considered the advantages 
 of her attitude. 
 
 233 Clakendon Street, Boston, March 20, 1884. 
 
 My dear Miss Larcom, — My delay in answer- 
 ing your letter does not mean that I was not deeply 
 interested in it, and very glad to get it. It only 
 means that I have been too busy to write calmly 
 about anything, and even now I write mainly to 
 say how glad I shall be if some time or other we 
 can quietly talk over what you have written. For 
 the present, however, let me only say, that I accept 
 most cordially the position which you describe for 
 yourself. I am content that our Church should be
 
 RELIGIOUS CHANGES. 221 
 
 a helpful friend to one who has been living among 
 quite different associations, and who does not think 
 it best to come into closer personal connection 
 with her. If God means that there should ever be 
 a closer association of life between you and the 
 Episcopal Church, He will make it plain in due 
 time. It is not bad, perhaps, that among the spe- 
 cial connections with particular bodies of Christians 
 which come in our lives, there should be one period 
 in which, from the very breaking of our associations 
 with the bodies of Christians, we are able to realize 
 more directly our relation to the body of Christ. 
 Perhaps this is such a time for you. If it is, and 
 whether it is or not, may you find more and more 
 of His light and help, and if anything that I can 
 do, or that Trinity Church can do, is ever a source 
 of happiness or strength to you, I know that you 
 will be sure that I am very glad. With kindest 
 wishes, always, 
 
 I am yours most sincerely, 
 
 Phillips Brooks.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 
 
 1884-1889. 
 
 TO MISS S. H. WARD. 
 
 January 1, 1884. 
 
 Dear Susie Ward, — Something has just 
 brought you to mind ; I saw your address in print 
 in an almanac, and I felt like sending a New Year's 
 greeting to the schoolgirl I knew — mas it thirty 
 years ago ? 
 
 I am very fond of those dear girls of mine, though 
 I seldom see them, and would like to send a New 
 Year's greeting to them all. 
 
 Ever your friend, 
 
 Lucy Larcom. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 Beverly, Mass. , January 15, 1884. 
 
 My dear Susie, — It is so pleasant to take up 
 the threads of an old friendship again ! It always 
 reassures me of the hereafter of souls, that even 
 here after long intervals, we find ourselves still at 
 home with those who had slipped away from us ap- 
 parently. They are really still in their place, and 
 we are sure of them and know where to find them.
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 223 
 
 I have had many changes since we were much 
 together, but life is the same good gift of the Lord 
 I always knew it to be, only more wonderful as one 
 gets deeper into it. 
 
 Always yours, 
 
 Lucy Larcom. 
 
 TO J. G. WHITTIER. 
 
 WoLFviLLE, Nova Scotia, 
 August 21, 1884. 
 
 My dear Friend, — I am moved to write to 
 you from here, where I sit looking out upon the 
 Basin of Minas, and Grand Pre itself, the mud of 
 which latter I have been trying to remove from my 
 dress, though J suppose I ought to let it stay spat- 
 tered with poetic associations ! 
 
 Yesterday we were taken to drive through the 
 Valley of the Gaspereau, a lovely region, under 
 perfect cultivation, — and so on, over the old dikes 
 of Grand Pre, where we stood upon the site of 
 the old church, and saw the cellar of what was sup- 
 posed to be the priest's house, close by the church. 
 
 The people here think they know where Evan- 
 geline's father lived, and just where Basil the 
 blacksmith had his forge, — so mixed are our illu- 
 sions with our historic certainties ! I find myself 
 believing in Evangeline as a real maiden, one who 
 once lived and suffered on this very soil, and I 
 gathered a daisy and a wild rose for you, which 
 her hand might have plucked, instead of mine, as 
 a memorial of her lost home.
 
 224 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 Miss J and I are stopping at the village doc- 
 tor's. Mrs. Fitch, who keeps his house, takes a very 
 few boarders. His orchard is loaded with apples 
 and pears, and his garden opens out on tlie meadow 
 close upon the first dike built by the French Aca- 
 dians. We are finding the hottest weather of the 
 season, and are glad not to be in any city just now. 
 
 We had a pleasant sail to Halifax — the sea as 
 smooth as glass, and so no excuse for sickness. I 
 had friends in Halifax, who took us to the citadel 
 and the park, the latter the finest I ever saw, be- 
 cause left chiefly to nature : just woods of j^ine and 
 spruce, overlooking the harbor, which I can well 
 believe to be what the Nova Scotians claim for it 
 
 — the most beautiful harbor in the world. 
 
 We go the last of the week to Annapolis and 
 Digby, and home by the way of Mt. Desert, which 
 I have never visited. 
 
 I go from there to Bethel, to spend September, 
 
 — read my proof — and escape hay-fever — (as I 
 hope !). 
 
 You are often spoken of here, and by those who 
 wish you would visit the place. The journey is a 
 long one, and I suppose, as I tell them, that you 
 would not feel like taking it. But there is a charm 
 about the people and the region which can only 
 be felt by being here, — everybody seems very in- 
 telligent, and very hospitable, — no extreme poverty 
 anywhere, that I can see. 
 
 Thine always, 
 
 Lucy Larcom.
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 225 
 
 TO PHILLIPS BROOKS. 
 
 12 Concord Square, March 26, 1885. 
 
 Dear Mr, Brooks, — I called at the chapel 
 yesterday afternoon, but others were waiting to 
 see you, and it was getting late in the day, so I did 
 not stay. I had, indeed, no good excuse for taking 
 your time ; but it would have been a great pleasure 
 to speak to you, after my winter's imprisonment 
 with illness. 
 
 It is only within a week or two that I have come 
 to Boston, or been out to church at all. I have 
 enjoyed, almost to pain, the few services I have 
 attended, for I am not sure that I hold myself in 
 the right manner towards God's people, with whom 
 I so fully sympathize in spirit. I wonder if I really 
 am in the Church ! My childish consecration was 
 sincere ; I entered the communion of the sect in 
 which I was baptized and brought up, from an 
 earnest longing to come nearer to Christ, — a 
 desire which has grown with me through all the 
 years ; only now it reaches out beyond all names 
 and groupings, towards the whole Communion of 
 Saints in Him. Nothing less than this is the real 
 Church to me. Some narrowness I find in every 
 denomination, and this distresses and repels me, so 
 that I cannot tell where I belong. Yet when I go 
 to Trinity Church, I feel myself taken possession 
 of, borne upward on the tide of loving loyalty to 
 Christ ; and 1 know that it has not been well for 
 me to live apart from my kindred.
 
 226 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 I wish I could find myself among tlie group who 
 consecrate themselves to-night : but, as you once 
 said to me, if that were the way for me, it would be 
 made plain. And I shall consider Trinity as home, 
 whenever I am in Boston. 
 
 I did have one little request to make, — it was 
 liberty to use some paragraphs from your printed 
 sermons in a compilation which I may prepare 
 this year. I shall take it that I have permission, 
 Unless forbidden. 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 Lucy Larcom. 
 
 TO 
 
 December 3, 1885. 
 I heard Canon Farrar preach and lecture. He 
 is not remarkable, it seems to me, except for his 
 moral and spiritual earnestness, but that is remark- 
 able, as men go. I liked his lecture, for it will 
 help to foster a good feeling between us two brother 
 nations of the English race. England and America 
 ought to feel themselves one. . . . 
 
 When the summer came. Miss Larcom always 
 looked forward with pleasure to her mountain- 
 homes, of which she had a number, in New Hamp- 
 shire and Maine. The hills gave her rest ; and the 
 beauty of the views, with the grand distances, sug- 
 gesting freedom and the thought of being above 
 the common level, gave her inspiration for her work. 
 Each year she tried to visit the vainous points she
 
 UNDERCUREENTS. 227 
 
 loved — Ossipee Park, The Notch, Bethlehem, 
 Moosilauke, Bethel, Centre Harbor, and Berlin 
 Falls. Bethel fascinated her with its sight of the 
 Androscoggin and its majestic elms, and the view 
 of Mt. Moriah and some of the Presidential Range, 
 — Madison, Adams, and Washington. At Mr. 
 tlohn Russell's Riverside Cottage she was always 
 welcome ; and back of the house, on the crest of 
 the mountain, was a little glen, shaded by ever- 
 greens, in which she used to sit and read, called 
 " Miss Larcom's Retreat." Sitting on the low 
 bench, in this nook, she wrote the poem "On the 
 Ledge : " — 
 
 " Here is shelter and outlook, deep rest and ■wide room ; 
 The j)ine woods behind, breathing' balm out of gloom ; 
 Before, the great hills over vast levels lean, — 
 A glory of purple, a splendor of green. 
 As a new earth and heaven, ye are mine once again. 
 Ye beautiful meadows and mountains of Maine." 
 
 She always enjoyed Ossipee Park, with its won- 
 derful brook, " set in the freshness of perfect 
 green," and watched it widen into pools and leap 
 into cascades. She wrote of it, " Ah ! this is the 
 sort of retreat for friends who like to meet or sepa- 
 rate within the sound of a voice which surely wins 
 them together again side by side." 
 
 Bethlehem, besides giving her freedom from hay- 
 fever, was always " the beautiful." Moosilauke 
 was her favorite summit. From these places she 
 generally wrote charming letters to the Portland 
 " Transcript," which its readers will remember, and
 
 228 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 othei's may judge of by the following from Wood- 
 Giant's Hill, Centre Harbor. 
 
 " There is a peculiar charm in New Hampshire 
 hill scenery just at this season, before the roses 
 have faded, or the hay is mown, or the bobolinks 
 have ceased singing among the clover blossoms, and 
 while the midsummer-tide is rolling up over all, 
 and blending all in haze and heat, — a mingling of 
 freshness and ripeness that is indescribably lovely. 
 One should surely be among the hills before the 
 Fourth of July, to catch the best of their beauty, as 
 well as to escape the dust and distractions of the 
 patriotic anniversary. 
 
 " To sit at a western window and look off upon 
 the Beulah-like landscape, slope upon slope of roll- 
 ing, forest-crowned hills ascending towards bluer 
 heights which lose themselves among dim lines of 
 half - revealed higher horizons- — -to feel the air 
 sweeping across from the softly-blended infinite 
 spaces, over pine woods and fields in full flower — 
 to breathe it all in like the odor of some divine 
 nectar — is there anything like it in the whole 
 year, except at the meeting point of June and July, 
 and in such a region as this. For we know that 
 there are lakes all around us, sleeping unseen in the 
 midsummer haze, and we know that the invisible 
 mountains lie just beyond those lovely ascending 
 distances before us. 
 
 " And so, when a sweeter waft of coolness re- 
 freshes every sense, and we ask with wonder what 
 makes it so sweet, the answer seems borne onward 
 with its very breath : —
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 229 
 
 " ' The gale informs us, laden -with the scent.' 
 
 " It brings us the spice of pine woods and the 
 clear drip of ice-cold waterfalls ; the breath of pond 
 lilies and sweet-brier and unmown scented grasses, 
 clover - tops and mountain - tops, blended in one 
 draught ; and that delicate bubble of song which 
 rises from the meadows, the faint farewell chorus 
 of summer birds that seem loth to go, makes the 
 full cup overflow with musical foam. 
 
 " I saw the sun drop last evening — its magnified 
 reflection, rather — into the larger Lake Asquam, 
 like a ball of crimson flame. The sun itself went 
 down, hot and red, into a band of warm mist that 
 huno- over the hills. The ' Wood Giant ' stood 
 above me audibly musing. His twilight thoughts 
 were untranslatable, but perhaps the wood-thrushes 
 understood, for they sent up their mystical chant 
 from the thickets below, in deep harmony with the 
 music of his boughs. 
 
 " The hiiiher summits have not unveiled them- 
 selves yet, not even Cardigan or Mount Israel. 
 Steamins: across the lake from Wolfboro' three 
 sunsets since, it seemed to me that there was a 
 compensation in this invisibility of the loftier hills. 
 Only Red Hill and the Ossipee Range were to be 
 seen ; and they loomed up in huge grandeur, as- 
 serting themselves to be, as they are, the dominant 
 guardians of Winnipiseogee. It is seldom that 
 the Beautiful Lake loses them from sight."
 
 230 LUCY LAltCOM. 
 
 TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING. 
 Ckntue IIakhou, N. H., October 7, 1885. 
 
 ... I have had my " outing " at Bethlehem ; I 
 went there hardly able to sit up dnrini^ the journey, 
 but gained strength at onee, and am well now. 
 
 I stayed there more than four weeks, and enjoyed 
 it much. Mr. Howells and family were at the next 
 house, and I saw them several times. ]5cthleliem 
 is a very |)ublie i)laee. I found a good deal of 
 calling and visiting going on. But the house life 
 was delightful. 
 
 I s})ent last week at Ossipee Park, the loveliest 
 spot in New England, I think. 
 
 I am here for a week or more, at the place where 
 Mr. Whittier was in the summer. Mrs. Sturte- 
 vant is an old friend of mine, and her house- 
 keeping leaves nothing to be desired. You would 
 like the place and it is easily accessible, — only a 
 mile back of Centre Harbor. Mr. AVhittier's 
 poem, " The Wood Giant," was written here. You 
 can see the tree above others, ten miles across the 
 lake, at Ossipee Park — it is down in the pasture, 
 a little way from this house, looking towards sunset 
 over the lake. . . . 
 
 TO J. G. WHITTIER. 
 
 IIoTKL Byron, 
 Boston, April 2;], 1886. 
 
 My dear Friend, — I have been in and about 
 Boston for the past three weeks, and of late have
 
 UNDEIWUItliENTS. 231 
 
 been interested in this new study of Tlieosopliy, 
 which so many are looking into. I liave wondered 
 how you regard it. 
 
 What I most enjoy about it is the larger hori- 
 zons it opens upon our true spiritual sight, — 
 glimpses only, it is true, — but we could not bear 
 more than that, doubtless. And the moral and 
 spiritual truth it unfolds and inculcates is of the 
 loftiest. It harmonizes so entirely with tlie high- 
 est Christianity, no believer in that can find cause 
 for cavil. And yet, it is far behind the spirit of 
 Christianity, as we have it from the Divine Teach- 
 er's lijis and life ; in that the common mind is shut 
 out from a clear com2)rehensiou of its meaning. 
 " The simplicity that is in Christ " is the true gos- 
 pel, whatever wisdom beside this may be given to 
 sages and seekers. The gospel for the poor and 
 the ignorant is the gospel for us all. 
 
 And I suppose those that go farthest into these 
 other deep secrets are the humldest. Spiritual 
 pride is indeed pronounced the greatest of all sins 
 by these, and l)y Christian souls. 
 
 But how beautiful it is to know that truth is 
 one, and that life is one, and that all over the 
 world, and through all the ages, men are entering 
 into and sharing the great inheritance! 
 
 I may find much that I cannot accept, l)ut wliat 
 of that, if I am brought nearer to the heart of 
 humanity, in its fraternal aspirations towards the 
 Father of our spirits ! 
 
 Faithfully thy friend, LucY Larcom.
 
 232 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 233 Clarendon Street, 
 Boston, December 28, 1886. 
 
 Dear Miss Larcom, — I cannot let your kind 
 note pass without at least a word of gratitude and 
 welcome. It is good to know that vou are in Bos- 
 ton again, and that I may sometimes speak to you 
 on Sundays. I should be sorry indeed to think 
 that the winter would pass without letting me, some- 
 where, sometime, come to more familiar friendly 
 talk with you. You will find me the chance, I 
 hope, either by coming here, or letting me know 
 where I may come to you. 
 
 At any rate, I am glad that you are here, and I 
 send you my best New Year's wishes. 
 
 I do not want you to think that I am aspiring to 
 poetry. "The Little Town of Bethlehem" was 
 written more than twenty years ago, for a Christ- 
 mas service of my Sunday school in Philadelphia. 
 It has been printed in hymn-books since, and sung 
 at a good many Christmases, and where the news- 
 papers find it, all of a sudden, I do not know ! 
 Ever faithfully your friend, 
 
 Phillips Brooks. 
 
 It has been stated that Miss Larcom was barely 
 able to supj)ort herself by her writings. She real- 
 ized, like many another author, that Mr. Whittier's 
 words were true when he wrote her that " the 
 hardest way of earning bread and butter in this 
 world is to coin one's brains, as an author, into 
 cash, or spin them into greenbacks." She could,
 
 VNDEECUBBENTS. 233 
 
 however, do very well, so long as her health was 
 good. In addition to the copyright on her books, 
 she received payment from the magazines for her 
 work, — "St. Nicholas" sometimes gave her fifty 
 dollars for an article. " Harper's " and the " In- 
 dependent " paid her the same rates as they did to 
 " H. H." She also contributed to " Wide Awake," 
 the "Christian Union," the " Congregationalist," 
 and to many minor papers, like the " Cottage 
 Hearth." But she was subject to severe attacks of 
 illness, which rendered her, for the time, incapable 
 of writing. Then it was that her friends came for- 
 ward to aid her ; any assistance, however, she was 
 loth to accept. This unwillingness to receive help 
 gave rise to an interesting scene between herself 
 and Mr. Whittier. At one time, her strength and 
 resources had been reduced by illness. She was 
 lying upon her couch when Mr. Whittier came, 
 and, seating himself beside her, said, " Now, Lucy, 
 this is altogether too bad." 
 
 " AYhat is too bad ? " 
 
 " Why, that thee should work for the world all 
 thy days, and then lie here, worrying about ex- 
 penses." 
 
 " I don't worry. The Lord has always taken 
 care of me." 
 
 " But, Lucy, thee ought to worry. The Lord 
 has made thee capable of caring for thyself. Why 
 not be more practicable ? I have done something 
 about this." 
 
 " I knew you had, as soon as this talk began.
 
 234 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 Now, I thank you, but I will not touch one cent of 
 the money you collect." 
 
 "Don't be foolish. Thee will; and thee must 
 not waste thy remaining strength in rebellion." 
 
 A compromise was made by her taking a pen- 
 sion of a hundred dollars a year, from a Quaker 
 Home, in Philadelphia, and a few annual subscrip- 
 tions — one from Mr. George W. Childs. 
 
 TO J. G. WHITTIER. 
 
 Hotel Byron, Berkeley St., 
 Boston, Mass., February 4, 1887. 
 
 My dear Friend, — I have been away two 
 days, and on returning, find thy note and the en- 
 closed check for one hundred dollars. A greater 
 surprise could not have awaited me. 
 
 And, curiously enough, I had been amusing 
 myself just before, with the thought of the great 
 fortunes rolling about the world, without ever so 
 much as touching me ! And I had said to myself 
 that the Great Disposer of all these things, who is 
 also my Father, doubtless had a purjjose in it, — 
 perhaps that I was to prove to the very end that 
 life could be very cheerful and comfortable without 
 much money, and with unremitting effort to earn 
 a moderate living, so long as my strength should 
 hold out. 
 
 And I felt like acquiescing gratefully, happy in 
 my restored health, in my interest in my work, and 
 in doing and being all that it is in me to do and to 
 be for others, — for life does look every day larger
 
 UNDERCURBENTS. 235 
 
 and deeper and more beautiful in its possibilities, 
 even this one small life of mine, in this world of 
 God's. I think I was rather in danger of looking 
 down on the millionaires, and pitying them for 
 their heavier burdens of responsibility, 
 
 I always feel rich when I feel well, and I was 
 not conscious of a present want, although I knew 
 my purse was getting light, and I was not sure 
 whether I could afford to stay in Boston through 
 the winter, but now I see that I can, for I shall 
 take your advice, and keep the check. 
 
 I suppose I should never have consented to have 
 my name used, as one who needed assistance, but 
 I have great confidence in your wisdom, and if you 
 thought it right, I could not object. But you know 
 that I have never suffered from want, and that I 
 am able to work, although three-score. 
 
 The only wish I have ever had in connection 
 with money, is for the freedom it might give me to 
 choose my work, and the place where I should live. 
 When I can do that, I don't know that I shall 
 have any further desire, for myself. And if I 
 really need that, God will give it to me. 
 
 If Mr. Childs has really sent the money to me, 
 I must thank him for it, and I will do so, if you 
 will kindly send me his address. You see how 
 ignorant I am about our good rich people, when 
 I don't know whether to address him as "• Mr." 
 or " Esq." or write with Quaker plainness ! You 
 said, "Philadelphia." Is that enough, without 
 street or number ?
 
 236 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 I thank thee sincerely for all the kind thoughts 
 that this matter implies on thy part. And I feel 
 more and more assured that the silver and the 
 gold belong- to God, and that He spends it where 
 He will. If He puts it into Mr. Childs' hand for 
 me, I will not refuse it — not from any good man's 
 hand. Only please remember that thee must not 
 let people think I am poor, when I am not. Shall 
 we not see thee before long? 
 
 Gratefully yours, 
 
 Lucy Larcom. 
 
 One of Miss Larcom's greatest pleasures was the 
 visits she was able to make to her congenial friends. 
 Not being tied by family cares, it was possible for 
 her to accept some of the many invitations she 
 constantly received from those who loved her. 
 Her presence in a household was like a peaceful 
 influence, for she had the delightful gift of being 
 an agreeable guest. Always sympathetic, never in- 
 truding into the privacy of family matters, reticent 
 about her ti'oubles, and eager to impart her joys, 
 with a fund of humor always at hand, she made 
 a charming companion ; and her visit was always 
 remembered as an event in the year. There are 
 many homes that have had the privilege of enter- 
 taining her, and receiving something f i-om the close 
 contact with her personality. One of her hostesses, 
 Mrs. James Guild, of Roxbury, in whose house she 
 used to enjoy hours of Plato study, and where the 
 last few years of her life she found rest, says, " In
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 237 
 
 passing the library, I often looked through the por- 
 tieres, to behold the presence in the room, — the 
 white, peaceful face, that seemed to wear a halo. 
 She would have three or four books at once on 
 her knee, and look up smiling to ask, ' Am I not 
 greedy? I don't know which of these to read 
 first ! I do love books, but not better than friends ; 
 when you are at leisure, I am ready to sit with 
 you.' " 
 
 TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING. 
 
 WiLLiAMSTOWN, Mass., October 10, 1887. 
 
 ... I came here, through Lake George and 
 Saratoga, last Friday. I am visiting at President 
 Carter's, my old friend, who has a charming fam- 
 ily and home. The town itself is most beautiful, 
 and I have been driving about among the Berk- 
 shire Hills, finding them no less enjoyable for 
 what I have seen of the Adirondacks. 
 
 President Carter is at present away on business. 
 A case of possible hazing is one of the most trying 
 — the facts are so hard to get at. The spirit of this 
 college is entirely opposed to such things. He is 
 also a corporate member of the American Board. 
 I do not sympathize with the turn affairs have 
 taken. It looks to me like a long step backward. 
 It cannot be that a disputed theological point is to 
 settle the world's salvation. And the inquisitorial 
 spirit tends so entirely to bitterness and harsh judg- 
 ment ; it proves itself foreign to the spirit of Christ. 
 
 May God reveal himself to these benighted 
 theologians !
 
 238 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 TO J. G. WHITTIER. 
 
 Beverly, Mass., April 24, 1888. 
 
 My dear Friend, — Yesterday I returned to 
 Beverly, having done something quite luicommon, 
 for me, — taken a trip to the Jerseys. I went 
 on urgent invitation from old pupils and school- 
 friends at Wheaton Seminar}^, who gave a break- 
 fast at Hotel Brunswick, New York. 
 
 I met a good many people I was glad to see, and 
 made most of my visit at Mr. Ward's, of the " In- 
 dependent." His sister, who keeps house for him, 
 at Newark, is a former pupil of mine. 
 
 Then I had an invitation from a schoolmate at 
 Monticello, Illinois, who lives at Orange, New Jer- 
 sey, and I stayed there several days. I went over 
 New York and Brooklyn by the bridge and the ele- 
 vated railway, but scarcely touched the metropolis. 
 
 However, I saw my old friends, and a good many 
 new people, and had a pleasant time. 
 
 And now, I am urgently invited to my old 
 Illinois seminary, in June, when it has its semi- 
 centennial anniversary. I am afraid I shall have 
 to go, as my Minnesota sister seconds the motion, 
 and she expects to move to California, another year. 
 
 What a moving world it is ! . . . 
 
 The "New England Girlhood," published in 
 1889, was at once a success. Few facts of Miss 
 Larcom's life had been generally known up to this 
 time ; there had been, however, interesting biograph-
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 239 
 
 ical sketches printed from time to time, notably 
 Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney's sketch, in " American 
 Women o£ Note," and her own article, in the " At- 
 lantic Monthly," with the title " Among Lowell 
 Mill-Girls." But in this book she took her friends 
 into her confidence, and showed such genuineness 
 of feeling, and love for her modest beginnings 
 in the old town of Beverly, with its lanes, its 
 woods, and its seacoast, that her description stirred 
 up the memory of similar days in the thought of 
 New England people, at home, and in distant parts 
 of the country. This account of her youth con- 
 tains the best elements of her thought and life, in 
 a story, charming for its simplicity and trvithfid 
 portraiture of New England homes before any of 
 the modern changes had taken place, — those 
 changes that introduced stoves and shut up the 
 great fireplaces, that substituted for the stage- 
 coach the horse and electric car, put clocks on the 
 mantelpiece, and relegated to the junk-shops the 
 " tin kitchens " and the three-legged " trivet." Its 
 homely incident and the sincerity of its religious 
 sentiment render it an excellent book to jjut into 
 the hands of young girls ; by reading it they are 
 brought into connection with the refined and vigor- 
 ous girlhood of an actual life. One critic remarked, 
 " If there could be more biography like this, there 
 would be less call for fiction." Miss Larcom re- 
 ceived numerous letters of thanks for having writ- 
 ten the book. A gentleman sent her a check, as an 
 evidence of his satisfaction. An aged man wrote,
 
 240 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 — " If it was written for the young, it certainly 
 was for the old. I am now eighty-five years old 
 and never was more delighted." Mr. Whittier sent 
 his approval : " I am reading the book for the 
 second time, with increased pleasure ; I recall my 
 first meeting with thee at Lowell, after thy return 
 from the West." 
 
 That she enjoyed these tokens of appreciation, 
 this letter indicates. 
 
 TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING. 
 
 214 Columbus Avenue, 
 Saturday evening, December 28, 1889. 
 
 My dear Friend, — I have just come in and 
 read Mrs. S 's letter, which I return. Her en- 
 thusiasm inspires me just as I like to be inspired. 
 I felt in writing the book that I was just entering 
 into my past life, and taking my friends with me. 
 I did not feel that I was making a " literary effort," 
 but just taking a little journey backward. 
 
 I ai^preciate the readers who will simply go along 
 
 with me, as Mrs. S does. I am glad to give 
 
 myself to those who understand the gift, and I 
 would like to find more in myself for them, if I 
 could. It is just like taking hold of hands all 
 round, these pleasant acknowledgments that come 
 to me. It is ou7' life that we are enjoying to- 
 gether. . . . 
 
 Mr. Brooks sent one of his short, characteristic 
 notes, thanking her for " A New England Girl- 
 hood."
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 241 
 
 233 Clarendon Street, 
 Boston, December 9, 1889. 
 
 My dear Miss Larcom, — I have never been a 
 Yankee girl, and yet I felt that I recognized every 
 picture in what I read, and I have read it all. 
 
 To hear of the American First Class Book again 
 was like a breeze out of my childhood ! 
 
 And I hope all the girls are reading it, and catch- 
 ing the flavor of its healthy spirit. 
 
 At any rate, I thank you for it, and I am yours 
 most sincerely, Phillips Brooks.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MEMBERSHIP IN THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH. 
 
 The loiiffiiiff for a relloioiis home asserted itself 
 in Miss Larcom's life, and the thought came to her 
 that she was not testifying to her deep love for her 
 Master, by withholding herself from active mem- 
 bership in some Church of Christ. In her diary, 
 where she wrote with great freedom her inmost 
 feelings, there are passages which indicate discon- 
 tent with her negative position. She was being 
 forced to a conclusion : — 
 
 " I must decide for myself whether the Church is 
 a reality to me ; whether, in the visible Church, 
 working for it, and with it, I can be more useful 
 than I should be, floating on still, trying to accom- 
 modate myself to circumstances, and to harmonize 
 myself with the best in everything, without any 
 special ties. Having lived outside the Church so 
 long, I have a great longing for a closer sympathy 
 and workino; to2"ether with others. But whether it 
 can be with my old Congregational friends, I am 
 not certain. It would be better to stay with them, 
 identified with their name and work, if I can do it 
 from my heart, but not if I am called upon to say 
 anything that I do not believe."
 
 MEMBERSHIP IN EPISCOPAL CHURCH. 243 
 
 AVliile in tliis state of uncertainty, the Church 
 was gradually making its way into her life. She 
 looked forward to each Sunday, with eagerness ; 
 and the message from the day's sermon she either 
 put in her diary, or conveyed, by means of letters, 
 to her little crippled friend, Elsie L^ . 
 
 The Church- Year, with its sacred anniversaries, 
 became very dear to her. In her diary, there is a 
 record referring to Passion Week, that shows her 
 appreciation of these Church days : " I think it 
 most beautiful to keep these memorial days of the 
 Church, whether we belong to the Episcopal Church 
 or any other. These are the days for all Christians 
 to observe." 
 
 April 8, Good Friday. Passion Week has been 
 a revelation to me of the divine history made real. 
 It has seemed to me as if I really followed and fal- 
 tered with the disciples, in Gethseraane, at the mock 
 trial of Pilate, and through the terrible scenes of 
 the Crucifixion. It is so much to the world, that 
 the Church has kept up the Christian year, with 
 these awful and glorious anniversaries. How often 
 their reality has faded out, when men are left to 
 themselves. 
 
 I could thank the Church, almost, for having im- 
 pressed them so upon her history, that tliey some- 
 times seem hardened into it I She has never let 
 them become mere idle tales ; the life and death of 
 Christ, held so close to her heart, have kept her 
 alive, through all her formalisms.
 
 244 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 In the worship, the part taken by the congre- 
 gation, in responsive readings, prayers, versicles, 
 and Litany, appealed to her. She felt that she was 
 not being preached at through the disguise of a 
 prayer, but that all — minister and people — joined 
 in the praises to God, each with a phrase on his 
 lips and a meditation in his heart. The dignity and 
 orderly arrangement of the services, together with 
 the use of the stately words of the Prayer Book, 
 made her appreciate the beautiful formality of such 
 devotional customs. 
 
 Her affections were strengthened by an act which 
 seemed to open a new set of experiences to her. 
 This act was the partaking of the Holy Communion 
 early on Easter Day, in 1887. Mr. Brooks had 
 given notice, inviting to the Lord's Supper any 
 persons who might desire to come, though they 
 belono-ed to some other branch of the Church of 
 Christ. A friend of Miss Larcom urged her to 
 accept the invitation. The generosity of it fasci- 
 nated her ; the thought of all who loved Jesus, lov- 
 ing Him perhaps in different ways, meeting around 
 the Father's table, was in thorough accord with 
 her own feelings. Going to the service, and taking 
 her place at the altar rail, she received the bread 
 and wine administered in the reverent manner of 
 the Episcopal Church, This one act, in the early 
 morning of Easter day, revealed to her the spiritual 
 meaning of the worship, and seemed to bring her in 
 closest touch with the Master ; and afterwards the 
 Church became a different place to her ; she was
 
 MEMBERSHIP IN EPISCOPAL CHURCH. 245 
 
 becoming one with it, though she yet had no right 
 to call herself a member. Referring to this Com- 
 mnnion, she said, " How free the Lord's table ought 
 to be ! and how beautiful it was at that early Com- 
 munion ; the church fragrant and fresh, and glow- 
 ing with flowers ! It seemed like meeting Christ 
 with Mary in the Garden, just as he had risen from 
 the Grave ! I do think the Communion service 
 of the church most ini-eaching and uplifting in its 
 earnestness, its simplicity, its spirituality." 
 
 "As I remember this service in the Congregational 
 church, that method seems almost formal in com- 
 parison with this. Perhaps there is something in 
 the very movement required, — the person going 
 forward to the table to share the bread and wine, 
 each with the rest, yet each of us receiving them 
 directly from Christ — His own life, to be trans- 
 fused into ours. There is certainly a clearer mean- 
 ing in it all to me, whenever I join in the service at 
 Trinity Church. 
 
 " The crowd in the church afterwards, who came 
 to the later services and sermon, was also most 
 impressive, filling in even every smallest space in 
 the chancel, among the flowers. The sermon was 
 strong and deep, impressing the thought that life 
 is the one reality, and death and sorrow and sin 
 only partial experiences. Life the ocean, and all 
 these things but ripples on the surface. 
 
 " The last thought for the day, — in the evening, 
 — was that injustice never does triumph, however 
 it may seem."
 
 246 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 April 22. Emeline's birthday, — the dearest of my 
 sisters — more than a mother to me — now three- 
 score and ten. But I live my child-life over again 
 with her, and our two lives make a glad harmony 
 all through. How much shall we keep of ourselves 
 and our human relations, forever ? All that has 
 been real, surely. And so we are mature women 
 and little children together, at once, in the immor- 
 tal life. 
 
 The past week has been one of rather unpleasant 
 experiences, in some ways. The Beverly Farms 
 bribery investigation at the State House has occu- 
 pied me. Whether bribery or not, great injustice 
 is attempted on my native town, which I love and 
 will defend, so long as I know her to be unmistak- 
 ably in the right, as she is now. 
 
 I have done the little I could, so far ; have written 
 for the newspapers, — have sent a letter of request 
 for veto to the governor, — and joined the women 
 of Beverly in a petition to him, to the same effect, 
 and I shall hold myself ready to do more, if needed. 
 But I do trust that our legislature will, of them- 
 selves, make the matter right. 
 
 April 25. Spring is in the air, even in Boston, 
 although just a week ago to-day we had one of the 
 worst snowstorms of the season. 
 
 Yesterday's experience is something not to be 
 forgotten, though unrecordable. There are no 
 words to repeat the spirit's story, when it is taken 
 possession of by the highest influences, and lifted 
 lip into the heaven of aspiration and consecration ;
 
 MEMBERSHIP IN EPISCOPAL CHUBCH. 247 
 
 when the way is open through sympathy with 
 human souls, and with the Eternal Son, into the 
 Father's heart. 
 
 How easy the spiritual life seems, when mate- 
 rial things fall into their subordinate places ! If it 
 might always be so ! 
 
 May 20. Still in Boston, interested in many 
 things. People ca'e trying to help each other. I 
 have been at the Woman's Industrial Union, have 
 heard Miss Leigh talk of her woi-k in Pai*is, have 
 talked over the possibilities of better influences 
 for girl-workers in Boston, have listened to Miss 
 Freeman's report of her Student's Aid work at 
 Wellesley College — all so suggestive — so hope- 
 ful ! What should not the woman of the future 
 be ? What may she not be ? 
 
 " I saw all women of our race 
 Revealed in that one woman's face ! " 
 
 June 6. Canon Wilberforce and the great tem- 
 perance meeting at Tremont Temple. A most elo- 
 quent man, and he goes to the very root of the 
 matter, — no real temperance without spirituality. 
 " Not drunken with wine, but filled with the Holy 
 Ghost," — he made that infinite contrast clear. 
 His sermon yesterday was most impressive, — from 
 the text, " What seest thou ? " It was a Trinity 
 Sunday sermon, and the thought was that in Jesus 
 we see God most jierfectly. But emphasis was 
 placed upon the attitude and condition of the soul, 
 for the seeing. It was Canon Wilberforce's first
 
 248 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 sermon in Boston, and I think this is his first visit 
 to America. It is good to have such neighbors 
 come to see us. 
 
 In the afternoon Mr. Brooks spoke from the 
 text, " He that hath the Son hath life." I have 
 seklom heard him speak with more fervor, of what 
 life is, and of the dreadful thing it is to lack life, 
 the life that comes to us and is in us through 
 Christ, — the life of God in human souls. It is 
 his last sermon for the summer, and the text itself 
 is one to keep close at heart all through the year. 
 " Not merely the knowledge of Christ, but Christ 
 Himself with us, we must have," he said : and with 
 the thought comes the suggestion of all true rela- 
 tions of spirit with spirit, the human and the divine 
 interblended, God the soul of our souls and the 
 children one with the Father through the Son. I 
 thank God for what I have found at Trinity Church 
 this winter : I begin to know more what the true 
 Church is, — nothing exclusive or separating, but 
 the comino' to2:etlier of all»souls in Christ. 
 
 June 12. In Beverly, but not yet acclimated to 
 the stronger sweep of the east winds. They give 
 rheumatic twinges. But the birds sing, and the 
 fresh foliage is shaken out into greenness, the rose 
 acacia and the bridal-wreath spirea run wild in the 
 garden, and the freedom of nature's life revives 
 mine. The thrill of the oriole, — vdiat a jubilation 
 it is, through the Sabbath stillness ; it is better than 
 the city in summer time. 
 
 Read this morning Phillips Brooks' sermon on
 
 MEMBERSHIP IN EPISCOPAL CHURCH. 249 
 
 " Visions " and " Tasks," and several others — 
 among them, the " Church of the Living- God." 
 
 With reference to doctrines, she understood the 
 Church's position. The great facts of Christianity 
 as set forth in the Apostles Creed, she did not 
 doubt ; and she liked the comprehensiveness of a 
 Church, admitting those who accept these facts 
 and desire to live a Christian life, and permitting a 
 private opinion on many complicated questions of 
 theology. And yet, with her appreciation for the 
 Church, she could not make up her mind to enter 
 it. There were objections difficult for her to over- 
 come. 
 
 These objections were not of a devotional or 
 theological, but of an ecclesiastical character. 
 High-Churchism, including in that term Sacerdotal- 
 ism, offered a barrier. She felt that, by joining 
 the Church, she would seem to approve of this 
 teaching, and while she was willing to admit the 
 historical fact of Apostolical continuity, she could 
 not accept a theory of Apostolical succession which 
 in any way seemed to exclude from good standing, 
 as Churches, the various religious denominations 
 which she had known and loved. She said, "In 
 the broad idea of Christ's Church, Episcopacy at 
 times seems to me no less sectarian than other 
 ' isms.' " She had too much of the Puritan in her 
 to make any such admissions about the Episcopal 
 Church that would seem to indicate that she felt 
 it was the only Church. Her position, as late as
 
 250 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 1890, is very well put, in a letter to Mrs. S. I. 
 Spalding-, of Newbuiyport. 
 
 " I do feel nearer a conclusion, such as you 
 woidd approve, than I ever have yet. I think, 
 sometimes, I can see my way perfectly clear, but 
 old notions are hard to change. Do you think I 
 can take all the Puritanism implied in "A New Eng- 
 land Girlhood," into the Church with me? Is it 
 possible to be inside the latter, and yet feel that all 
 the others are Churches, too, and that I am only 
 signifying that I want to be more completely in 
 union with them all, by identifying myself with this 
 one ? This is the way I should want to feel and 
 do." 
 
 By means of letters and conversations with Mr. 
 Brooks, she saw that it was not necessary for her 
 to give up all her Puritanism, on coming into the 
 Church, nor was she bound to accept the interpre- 
 tation that some Episcopalians put upon the Sac- 
 raments or Orders in the ministry. She learned 
 that the difficulties she was considering were dis- 
 i)elled by the conception of the comprehensiveness 
 of the Church. Mr. Brooks wrote her, concerning 
 a discussion in the Church papers, in which Sacer- 
 dotalism was especially rampant : " There is nothing 
 in it, which is not now repeated for the hundredth 
 time. The solution of it all is in the comprehen- 
 siveness of the Church, which includes the vast ex- 
 panse both of breadth and narrowness." In March, 
 1890, she came to the end of her discussions, and 
 seemed to see the true meaning of the Episcopal
 
 MEMBEESHir IN EPISCOPAL CHURCH. 251 
 
 Cliurch, as one method of entering the larger In- 
 visible Church of Christ. She preferred this path 
 to others, but looked uj)on it as a path, not the end 
 of the journey. 
 
 March 1, 1890. The same questionings, — yet a 
 clearer light upon the meaning of the Church has 
 gradually come to me. It is as if there were many 
 doors of entrance into one vast temple, some of 
 them opened a little way, and with much scrutiny 
 from within of applicants for admission ; some 
 swung wide with welcome. But there is one united 
 worship inside, only some prefer to group them- 
 selves in cloisters or corners ; but there is freedom 
 and light for all who will receive them. 
 
 The Episcopal Church seems to have several 
 doors of its own, — some wide and some narrow ; 
 it is not the Church, — only one way of entering 
 Christ's Church. If I can enter it that way, I am 
 already there. And I believe more positively than 
 ever, that we should say, in some distinct, personal 
 way, that Christ is the centre and head of human- 
 ity, and that our whole life, earthly and heavenly, 
 is hid in Him. 
 
 What belongs to me in Puritanism I shall never 
 lay aside ; I could not, if I would. But I do see 
 more of a hope for future unity in the Church ser- 
 vice than in any other way ; and if I can see therein 
 for myself the perfect freedom of Christ's service, 1 
 am ready to make a new profession there. I am 
 waiting only for His guidance, now.
 
 252 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 I see more and imdic how much the writings of 
 iSIaiirice have been to me for the past twenty years. 
 He is continually unfolding my owti thoughts to 
 me, — his absolute sincerity is contagious. I want 
 no ]»retenses, no subterfuges or concessions in the 
 spiritual life. He speaks to me more clearly than 
 almost any audible voice. And his words seem 
 the expression of the mind of Clnist. 
 
 March 5. My birtliduy. And the wf)rld seems 
 as if it were dimly dawning anew to me. Every- 
 thing in my life has taken a touch of awe, — of 
 strangeness. 
 
 I do not know that there is any new gladness in 
 the decision I made yesterday, to be " confirmed " 
 at Trinity Church. Imt there is a settled feeling 
 that may grow into hapjuness. I can say that my 
 "heart is fixed," and my liff wiil l)e firmer and 
 more settled, for having found a ]»lace for itself. 
 The church itself seemed a different and more 
 beautiful place, as I sat there and listened to the 
 story of the Woman of Samaria, and of the sepa- 
 rateness of souls in consecrated work. " IMeat to 
 eat that ye know not of," the doing of God's will, 
 — the hidden manna and the white stone, with the 
 new name known only to him who receives it. 
 Yes, this one little decision has opened closed doors 
 to me already — everything looks sacred. 
 
 March 20. Last night I knelt in the chancel at 
 Trinity Cluu-ch, and received, with many others, 
 the benediction of consecrated hands ; and to-day 
 I can think of myself as avowedly in the visible
 
 MEMBERSHIP L\ EPISCOPAL CHURCH. 253 
 
 Church once more. I have been in a false position 
 all these years, — 1 see it ucnv. It does mean some- 
 thing to name the name of Christ in the presence 
 of His people, as one of their company. I have 
 not been an unbeliever, ever ; He has been dear to 
 me always, and most real to my heart. 
 
 It was tranquillizing, to be bending there with 
 all that young life, — (no other older life), the 
 snow falling without, soft and white as doves' wings, 
 and the quiet consecration filling all hearts within. 
 I was not wholly happy ; I have had too many strug- 
 gles with myself, and misapprehension between my 
 own h6art and others, perhaps, to feel glad or up- 
 lifted, — but I was calm and thankful, and felt the 
 atmosphere of blessing surrounding us all. 
 
 It is good to have taken this position ; I shall 
 feel stronger and richer in life and spirit for it, I 
 trust and believe. 
 
 The few words of Mr. Brooks this morning at 
 the church seemed to carry out the spirit of last 
 night's service. We climb up the great mountain- 
 tops, he said, but we cannot live there, though we 
 may keep their inspiration within us. But the 
 high table-lands wdiich we have gained by long 
 gradual ascent, — we can live and breathe there ; 
 and can grow hopeful in the broad outlook before 
 us. Such are the consecrations of life to which we 
 have grown step by step, out of which greater de- 
 velopments are to open for us, and above which the 
 loftier summits are always overhanging. 
 
 March 26. The thought that has been with me
 
 254 LZTCY LARCOM. 
 
 most these few days is that consecration means ser- 
 vice : that it is not for one's self alone, — not the 
 mere endeavor after personal holiness, — but to give 
 the life into which we enter to all other lives we can 
 reach. (John xvii. 18, 19.) The spirit of these 
 words of Christ is the true setting apart of life, for 
 the sake of all human lives. 
 
 The chapter for to-day — the going forth of 
 Joshua into Canaan after that glorious Nebo-Vision 
 of Moses, is full of suggestions for me. I have not 
 yet possessed my whole life, none of us have, but 
 we go forward courageously into it, in the name of 
 the Lord. 
 
 We have sketched, chiefly in her own words, for 
 they have a greater significance, the history of a 
 religious woman, finding her way into the Kingdom 
 of Christ through the doorway of the Episcopal 
 Church. She was a catholic, broad-minded Chris- 
 tian, and she became satisfied with the doctrine and 
 worship of the Church. She looked upon it as one 
 branch of the Church of God, but she also ac- 
 knowledged other branches ; it became as much a 
 home to her as it was possible for any Church to 
 be. She grew to love it, but the ideal and Invis- 
 ible Church was ever before her mind. 
 
 The religious history of her life is like that of 
 many others — those who have become dissatisfied 
 with a theology made up of men's opinions, and 
 who seek light and life in the personality of Jesus. 
 There are many persons to-day, with natures capa-
 
 MEMBERSHIP IN EPISCOPAL CHURCH. 255 
 
 ble of spiritual insight, who have been educated to 
 appreciate the best in our literature, who believe 
 in righteousness, — people with poetry in them, 
 and a delicate sense o£ fitness and dignity, who are 
 thinking of the Episcopal Church as a religious 
 home. To such persons, a progress similar to that 
 of Miss Larcom can be effected only by the Church 
 emphasizing those qualities which attracted her. 
 These characteristics of the Church may be sum- 
 marized as the spirituality, the breadth, and the 
 magnanimity of the Church. 
 
 Prominent through all the services, the various 
 organized forms of church work, the observances 
 of festivals and seasons, must be the spiritual idea 
 for which they all stand. This spiritual idea is 
 the bringing of the individual soul into such rela- 
 tions with Jesus that it will find its truest self in 
 Him and through Him, find its greatest activity 
 in reaching other souls. This great aim is fre- 
 quently lost sight of, because the Churches are so 
 often business establishments for the collection of 
 money, and the successful management of organi- 
 zations. But there are souls longing to be fed, 
 and these should be remembered when the church 
 seasons come, by the administration of Sacraments 
 as the simple offering of nourishment to those who 
 need it, not with the theological accompaniments 
 of argument, but in the sacredness of dependence 
 on Christ, as in the first Easter communion of 
 Lucy Larcom, at Trinity Church. 
 
 There is no need to elaborate the ideas of the
 
 256 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 breadth, or magnanimity of the Church ; for, in 
 this clay of vigorous thought and reconstruction of 
 older doctrines, both of these characteristics would 
 seem to commend themselves, on their simple an- 
 nouncement : for who is it that longs for the nar- 
 rowness of a " Westminster Confession " or even 
 the mild bondage of " The Thirty-Nine Articles " ? 
 And who is it that has sufficient effrontery to un- 
 church the millions who are trying in their own 
 ways to serve their Lord ? That there is such nar- 
 rowness in the Episcopal Church no one can deny ; 
 it is in opposition to this that it must present itself 
 to the world, as a comprehensive and tolerant 
 Church. 
 
 Lucy Larcom, a Puritan, seized upon the vital 
 truths of the Episcopal Church. If these are 
 kept before the people, this Church, as a part of 
 the kingdom of Christ, may hope to have a large 
 influence in the development of American Chris- 
 tianity.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 LAST YEARS. 
 
 Miss Larcom was loved in Beverly. The towns- 
 people were justly proud of liei', and tliey always 
 welcomed her sweet face into their homes. She 
 was interested in the Town Improvement Society, 
 and once, at one of its entertainments, she read two 
 or three of her poems. When there was an effort 
 made to secure Prospect Hill for a public park, 
 she sent some appropriate lines to the local paper, 
 hoping to influence opinion. Her public spirit, as 
 shown in her letters and diaries, was also active in 
 her life, and she joined, according to her opportu- 
 nities, in such affairs as could receive aid from her 
 pen, and the townspeople were gratified by her con- 
 tributions to the village life. 
 
 The success in literature of a Beverly boy made 
 her happy. When Mr. George E. Woodberry en- 
 tered the company of American poets by the pub- 
 lishing of the " North Shore Watch," a volume 
 containing the triumphant ode, " My Country," not 
 unworthy of comparison with Lowell's " Commem- 
 oration Ode," and the strong sonnets, " At Gibral- 
 tar," and the classic "Agathon," she was one of the 
 first to send him her appreciation.
 
 258 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 TO GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY. 
 
 214 Columbus Avenue, 
 Boston, February 18, 1889, 
 
 Dear Mr. Woodberry, — I have just been 
 reading your poems, and have been so much moved 
 by them that I wanted at once to tell you how 
 deeply they appeal to me. Most of our modern 
 verse, — and I include my own, — is too superfi- 
 cially lyrical, the measure often muffles the mean- 
 ing, — the thought flies off through the sound. 
 In yours, the music and the meaning unfold to- 
 gether, always hinting the deeper chords half awak- 
 ened beneath. The feeling of the unexpressed 
 and the inexpressible infinite — that which is at 
 the source of everything real — that which is life 
 itself, is in your poetry, as in almost no other mod- 
 ern poetry that I have read. 
 
 The " Transcript " compares it with Clough's. 
 I delight in Clough, but I do not like comparisons 
 of this kind. You strike different chords, and I 
 believe that you have greater possibilities than he. 
 What touches me especially is the high purity of 
 emotion which is yet as human as it is holy. This 
 is rare, even in great poetry. As I read some 
 lines, it seemed as if my soul were weeping for joy 
 at their beauty. 
 
 " Agathon " I wanted to read over again as soon 
 as I had finished it. Indeed, I shall want to turn 
 to it often, for a breath of the pure poetic ether. 
 I do not know a greater poem of its kind since
 
 LAST YEARS. 259 
 
 " Comus." Page 42, and from 59 onward, Milton 
 might have been proud to write. They appeal to 
 all that nobler part of us that lives beneath the 
 shows of things ; and I am glad that so young a 
 poet as you begins his song so nobly. I am proud, 
 too, that you are a Beverly boy, as I am a Beverly 
 woman. But for that, I might not have ventured 
 to write so freely. I have not room to write all 
 I want to say, but I must mention the " Christ 
 Scourged," which seems to me wonderful in its 
 strength of sympathetic expression. It would give 
 me great pleasure to meet you. If you are stay- 
 ing in town, I wish you would call here some 
 evening. 
 
 Truly yours, 
 
 Lucy Larcom. 
 
 In preparing a new edition of " Songs of Three 
 Centuries," she included among the additions, a 
 poem by Dr. Solis-Cohen, " I Know that My Re- 
 deemer Liveth," and also, "The Crowing of the 
 Red Cock," bv Emma Lazarus. In the coui'se of the 
 correspondence. Dr. Solis-Cohen wrote so frankly, 
 giving his feelings about Christ from an intelligent 
 Jewish standpoint, that she answered in a similar 
 vein, stating clearly her idea of the relations that 
 should exist between the Jew and Christian. Dr. 
 Solis-Cohen had written : " No professed Christian 
 can exceed many Jews in love for the pure and 
 lofty character of Jesus, and we can readily accept 
 that chai-acter, as a manifestation of God in man,
 
 260 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 while we decline to accept the superstructure of 
 the Church." 
 
 TO DR. SOLOMON SOLIS-COIIEN. 
 
 Beverly, Mass., October 18, 1890. 
 
 Dr. S. Solis-Cohen : — 
 
 Dear Sir, — The proof of your poem is just 
 received, — and I have put your corrections away 
 so carefully that I cannot at this moment lay my 
 hand upon them ; so I will ask you to correct the 
 copy and send it to the printers as soon as conven- 
 ient. I will tell them to wait for it. 
 
 The magazine with the poem in it is received — 
 beautiful and graceful I find the latter. I wish 
 the additions to the " Songs " were not limited — 
 but the publishers do not wish to enlarge the vol- 
 ume too much. We shall have two poems by 
 Emma Lazarus ; one of them Mr. Whittier tells me 
 he considers her best — " The Crowing of the Red 
 Cock." 
 
 Your letter interests me exceedingly. I grew 
 up under the influence of old-fashioned Puritanism, 
 and from it drew the idea that Jew and Christian 
 were really one, only they did not understand each 
 other. 
 
 Children do construct their own theology oftener 
 than is thought, I believe. The Puritan was like 
 the Hebrew in many ways, most of all in his firm 
 hold of moral distinctions, in his belief in the One 
 God as the God of righteousness and truth. 
 
 Certainly no one ev^er insisted upon obedience to
 
 LAST YEARS. 261 
 
 the law more positively than Christ himself. We 
 Christians do believe in Him as the human mani- 
 festation of God : that is the one distinctive ele- 
 ment of our faith. 
 
 All sorts of strange doctrines have been built up 
 about this idea. 
 
 I care for none of them, but rest upon what is 
 to me a spiritual certainty — " Truly this is the 
 Son of God." 
 
 I emphasize the " is " because to me that visible 
 life was only one phase of His eternal presence 
 in and with humanity. To me He is " the living 
 Lord " — the Spirit bearing witness to our spirits 
 of their own immortal meaning ; and so "" the Res- 
 urrection and the Life." 
 
 But His life has no spiritual power over ours, 
 unless it teaches us divine love — unless we live 
 in that love which He came to unveil. 
 
 Christians have miserably failed of this — in 
 their treatment of each other as well as of the 
 Jews, but it is because they have not received the 
 spirit of their Master. 
 
 I thank you sincerely for writing to me so 
 freely, and I thank you for having written the 
 poem enclosed, which bears the same message to 
 me as a Christian, that it does to you as a Jew. I 
 should like to know more of Emma Lazarus. Her 
 early death was a loss to all lovers of true poetry. 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 Lucy Laecom.
 
 262 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 Tlie ecstacy of a sudden realization of religions 
 trutli sometimes overcame her in the summer morn- 
 ings, and her heart uttered itself fervently in 
 prayer, as will be seen in the following extracts 
 from her diary. 
 
 July 5, 1890. 1 aw^oke with a strange joy as of 
 some new revelation, that seemed sounding through 
 my soul, with the w^ords, ••' Lift vip your heads, O 
 ye gates, and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, 
 and the King of Glory shall come in ! " 
 
 Is it a new entering in of life and love at all the 
 doors of my nature ? doors that I have left closed 
 and overgrowai, perhaps ? Come in, O Life, O 
 Truth, O Love, by whatever gate thou wilt, — in 
 whatever form thou wilt ! Only make me ready to 
 receive thee, and to go with thee through the gates 
 into the freedom of thy universe ! 
 
 August 3. Now I see life more clearly in all its 
 bearings, its dangers, and its hopes, — its earthly 
 and heavenly unity. It is almost like beginning a 
 new childhood in the Kingdom of Heaven. All 
 things centre themselves in Christ, the living, spir- 
 itual Christ, who is the Life, the Reality, the Per- 
 son, wdio makes us real to each other through the 
 eternal union with the Father. Nature is alive. 
 Nothing is dead that the heart of God has touched. 
 And human beings seem so near and dear ! 
 
 I think of those who have gone, of my sisters 
 Louisa and Charlotte, of my mother, of all the 
 friends whom I see no more, but who have made
 
 LAST YEARS. 263 
 
 part of my true life. They seem more alive than 
 when here ; my communion is with them and with 
 all the living- to-day. 
 
 August 6. This morning, with the opening of 
 my windows on the white floating clouds of sum- 
 mer, and the warm hillside, softened with the mist 
 of coming showers, a song and a hymn arose in my 
 thovio'hts : — 
 
 O Thou Eternal Loveliness, — I am part of 
 Thee, or I am not at all ! Nature is the expression 
 of Thee, but yet more is this human life of mine. 
 Because I am, and can feel and see this beauty, — 
 feel it as a part of my own life and soul, I know 
 that Thou art — the Divine One in whom all that 
 is immortal of me is enfolded, and from whom it 
 is unfolded. How can Thy being be questioned 
 by one who has had a single glimpse of the beauty 
 of this Thy world ? It is such happiness to feel 
 that I am part of it all, because I belong to Thee ! 
 Yet I should never have known the spirit of it all, 
 never should have understood the secret, except 
 through the Son, who has brought Thy children 
 back to their spiritual home in Thee. In Him the 
 evil of earth is conquered, and the good of earth is 
 shown also to be the good of heaven. To be of 
 one spirit with Him, the Perfect Love and the In- 
 finite Loveliness, is to belong to the Whole, and 
 so to Thee. And so there can be no losing of any- 
 thing for us eternally. Who shall separate us from 
 any true Love ? 
 
 August 24. On the summit of Moosilauke.
 
 264 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 Have been here four or five days, in cloud and 
 mist and rain. One bright sunset, two pleasant 
 afternoons, on the last of which there was the most 
 beautifid phenomenon that we call " the sun draw- 
 ing water." I never looked down upon the earth 
 through that many tinted transparency of sun and 
 mist before. It was wide as the whole West, and 
 the tints of green upon the nearer hills were 
 brought out with softest intensity. It was like an 
 open fan of thinnest gossamer, wavering in all pos- 
 sible hues between us and the landscape. But the 
 sign was true. It has rained steadily for three 
 days and nights. 
 
 August 27. Monday and Tuesday there was a 
 fine sunset and smirise, and four travelers were up 
 here to enjoy it. But yesterday the mist and cloud 
 rolled up from the valley again, and in the night 
 a southeast storm set in, preceded by the same 
 sign in the east that was in the west last Thursday. 
 It is one of the signs of approaching rain, — the 
 clearness with which the summits and ranges are 
 outlined through the mist. They are most dream- 
 ily lovely, so. I thought yesterday how much the 
 earth and sky were alike, on these high places. 
 It was hard to tell which was mountain and which 
 was cloud. 
 
 September 6. A week of great beauty in cloud- 
 scenery, though with little sunshine. Most siigges- 
 tive phases of cloud and mountain interblending ; 
 I have been out in it everywhere I could ; twice at 
 sunrise, when I was well rewarded by the glory in
 
 LAST YEARS. 265 
 
 the east. The days seem so short ! I was foolish 
 to bring books up here, — and yet I have found 
 them companionable now and then. " God in his 
 World" I have re-read — it is a book for the 
 heights. 
 
 February 4, 1891. Boston. " In ray room at the 
 Hoffman House these last two weeks. I could not 
 get settled earlier ; others were occupying it. But 
 I love this room, because I have lived so intensely 
 and deeply in it ; because I have had revelations in 
 it of God and his truth, of human friendship, of 
 the inmost meanings of life. The very walls seem 
 alive to me sometimes. Every place where we 
 have met God, and come to feel Him as the reality 
 in all things, is holy ground. 
 
 One of the pleasant things of the last month 
 was my visit to Wheaton Seminar}^ and the meet- 
 ing with Mr. Brooks there, and hearing him speak 
 to the girls, making them more happy, and helping 
 them much, as I have to-day heard. His presenta- 
 tion of Christ as the Way, the Truth, and the Life, 
 has led one, at least, to a decision for herself, that 
 Christ is the Son of God. I like to meet new 
 friends in my old haunts. I have lived through 
 some painful and some delightful experiences at 
 Norton, struggling and groping in solitude through 
 formal dogma and doctrine into spiritual truth, 
 for there was none with me, and my way of think- 
 ing was accounted heresy. But I felt beckoned 
 into clearer light than there was around me, and I 
 followed in silence. I first read Maurice there,
 
 2G6 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 and F. W. Robertson, who opened doors for me 
 which have never since been closed. And I taught 
 my pupils, giving them what I had received, truths 
 which I felt were unquestionable, and I knew, 
 while there, that it was not wholly in vain, though 
 I had access to but a few. Now I go back, and 
 I find the whole school apparently ready for this 
 clearer spiritual light, and I am glad. We must 
 love places where we have truly lived, — even in 
 heaven we shall remember them. 
 
 I finished my little book last week, — " As It Is 
 in Heaven." I wonder if it was presumptuous in 
 me to write it? But it seemed to grow by itself, and 
 I wanted to give the blossoms and fruit that had 
 shaped themselves in my mind, to those who might 
 enjoy them, and perhaps get some refreshment and 
 strength from them. I trust it will be of service 
 to somebody. 
 
 April 3. Lent has passed, and Passion Week, 
 and Easter. All these festivals now mean so much 
 to me, and yet not wholly for themselves, but be- 
 cause they make the whole year sacred. I have 
 attended all the morning services, and have found 
 it good to begin the days with that half-hour of 
 prayer and thought, and communion with others. 
 Once I should have thought this frequent assem- 
 bling together day after day, and week after week, 
 for religious services, at least unnecessary. But 
 for the deepening life that has come to me through 
 them I can never be sufficiently thankful, and I 
 feel that the Church holds through them a special
 
 LAST YEARS. 267 
 
 power over tlie spiritual life of the community. For 
 tlie last weeks of winter and first weeks of spring, 
 everybody is reminded that this life of ours belongs 
 to us throuo-h the life and death of Christ our 
 Lord. We are always forgetting that, — always 
 falling back into ourselves and our own petty in- 
 terests and plans and thoughts of and for our- 
 selves. 
 
 I cannot see why Churches of every name should 
 not keep Lent and Good Friday and Easter, as 
 they do Christmas, and I believe they are moving 
 in that direction. 
 
 I was present at the Good Friday evening ser- 
 vice at the Old South, presided over by its pastor, 
 Eev. Mr. Gordon, where a Baptist, a Unitarian, a 
 Congregationalist, and three Episcopal clergymen 
 took part. It was most impressive, and seemed 
 like a pi'omise of the time when all Christ's people 
 shall be one. The Good Friday sermon at Trinity 
 Church in the morning was to me a new unfolding 
 of a thought that has always perplexed me, from 
 the text, " The blood of Christ cleanseth from all 
 sin." I could never make the " Atonement," as 
 set forth by the religious teachers of my youth, a 
 reality to myself ; Christ Himself was always real, 
 as a divine man, and as a living presence with us 
 still, but how His death was to us more than 
 His Life, I could never see. The grandeur of it 
 all, — the love that inspired the sacrifice, always 
 moved my being to its depths, but the prominence 
 given to His " Blood-shedding " seemed unnatural.
 
 268 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 It was tragic ; pictorial ; yet somehow outside of 
 me — a scene upon which I gazed, and wondered, 
 and longed to understand. 
 
 I cannot recall the words of Mr. Brooks's sermon, 
 but the feeling and the thought left with me from 
 it was that now I could see it all ; and that through 
 that completed sacrifice, the divine life entered 
 into every human soul that could open to receive 
 it. And it is the very thought of the blood, which 
 represents, and is, the life, that made it clear. 
 
 He gives all of himself that He has to give, in 
 first living for us, and then dying for us.~ And the 
 giving means our receiving His pure life into our 
 stained souls, so that their defilement is cleansed, 
 and we live His life of love and sacrifice, instead 
 of our old selfish and sinful one. It is now His 
 blood that flows through ns, and inspires us with 
 eternal strength. And this is what it means to 
 be His, and one with Him ; the character, the per- 
 son, must be renewed, when filled with his j)urity, 
 with his righteousness, and his consecration. Any 
 other view of the atonement than this seems to me 
 still to be something of a fiction. But this view 
 is so insj)iring to me, that the cross has a new 
 meaning, — it is the true and only emblem of 
 Christ's work to hold up before the world. 
 
 May 17. Mr. Brooks's election as bishop has 
 followed almost as the natural sequence to Bishop 
 Paddock's death, and it has seemed to be de- 
 manded quite as much by the community at large 
 as by the church. The feeling has been, that if
 
 LAST YEARS. 269 
 
 there is a place of higlier influence for such a man, 
 he nuist be put in it. I have not been accustomed 
 to think that there can be any higher place than 
 that of a Christian minister, but he will not cease 
 to be this. But for me it is like the closing of a 
 beautiful book of insj)iration, from which I have 
 been reading for the past ten years, almost con- 
 stantly of late ; and before the bishop's death, I 
 have felt that it was more than any one congrega- 
 tion oufjht to have to itself, and God will broaden 
 the stream of the water of Life now into more far- 
 reaching channels. The change has brought great 
 sadness, but our best is given us to share, and we 
 shall find joy even in this sacrifice. 
 
 May 1. At Beverly, — and tired with my spring 
 languor, and some inward depression. Yesterday I 
 talked with Mr. Brooks about the change that is 
 coming, and though I believe it best and needful 
 for him, still I feel in it an unutterable sadness. 
 It is strange that I do, for I never expect to see him 
 often, or to hear him preach except for a few weeks 
 in the winter. But I suppose we have all had the sat- 
 isfaction of knowing that the fountain was flowing 
 and that we might drink if we would. And what 
 have I not received at this source ? What a differ- 
 ent world it is to me, from what it was ten years 
 ago. How I have become strengthened through 
 and through, to see and know what spiritual life is, 
 and in my measure to live it, as T believe ! Soul 
 and eyes and heart and hands and feet have been 
 given to me anew, through the illumination received.
 
 270 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 That strange "light in light" that seemed to 
 glow around nie, as I knelt in reconsecration oi 
 myself, a little more than a jear ago, has not left 
 me, though it is dimmed by this jn-esent regret, 
 and I shall walk on in it through paths yet untried. 
 
 Yesterday I sat in the same room and the same 
 chair where, eight years ago, Mr. Brooks first sug- 
 gested that my place might be in the Episcopal 
 Church. I had not thought it possible, and did not 
 see it so then. To be sitting there in his study, 
 where I had not been again since that first talk 
 with him, as one of his people, and to hear him 
 speak of the strangeness to him of his own new 
 outlook upon life and work, — of the suddenness 
 with which the change has come to him : " First it 
 seemed impossible, and then it became inevitable,'' 
 he said, — brought back that other day and all the 
 time between, and my own experience in being 
 lifted out of my old associations into the Church, 
 — for it seems to me that unseen hands at last 
 lifted me into my place. 
 
 Well might he speak of that room as a sacred 
 room, where so many souls had been strengthened 
 and led on into light. I wish he need not leave 
 his house when he becomes bishop ; it is so truly 
 identified with his life. Our place is partly ourself . 
 I am sure he needs a change, after so many years 
 of incessant service, doing the work of twenty men, 
 apparently. He will still have hard work to do, 
 but it will not be of the same kind. 
 
 I do believe that the hand of God is in his elec-
 
 LAST YEABS. 271 
 
 tion as bishop. It is not so much the Episcopal 
 Church (much as he loves it, and believes in it) 
 that is to be benefited: the whole church — the 
 whole community — will feel the difference in the 
 freedom and depth of spiritual life that can but 
 radiate from such a man, wherever he goes. I do 
 want to live at least ten years longer, to have a 
 part in the good time. 
 
 Mr. Whittier writes to me : " The very air of 
 Massachusetts is freer and sweeter, since his elec- 
 tion," and these are the words of a seer. 
 
 And still it is a haunting regret that I shall no 
 longer hear his words in the old familiar way, at 
 Trinity Church. 
 
 TO MRS. S. I. SPALDING. 
 
 Beverly, Mass., June 3, 1891. 
 
 My dear Friend, — I do not think the weather 
 would have kept me here quite, last week, but I 
 also have had to call myself half-sick. I think it 
 must be the "grippe" or the effect of some subtle 
 seizure of that fiend, for I am unaccountably good- 
 for-nothing, in many ways. I had to lie still all 
 last Sunday. I must go to Boston next Sunday, 
 for it is the Communion Service, which has become 
 very dear to me, and more so noiv. 
 
 Perhaps I will try again this week coming to 
 you on Friday and going to Amesbury on Saturday 
 for a call ; thence to Boston. If you should bear 
 that Mr. Whittier had gone to Portland (he is ex- 
 pected there next week) perhaps you will let me 
 know by Friday morning.
 
 272 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 I should prefer coming- to see you when I could 
 stay over Sunday. But while Mr. Brooks preaches 
 I want to improve every chance of hearing- him. 
 I thought he would not be permitted to leave Trin- 
 ity Church — I believe that he was himself surprised 
 at liis own nomination. But he would have fallen 
 in the harness there : no man could ({o forever the 
 superhuman work he was doing, and the collapse 
 might have been sudden. I have seen him within 
 a week or two, and he looks at the new work with 
 all the enthusiasm of a boy. The change may pro- 
 long his strength and usefulness ; for nothing but 
 change of work would be rest to him. 
 
 The little side of Episcopacy is making itself 
 manifest, as it must, when so great a man is brought 
 into contrast with mere systematizers, petty plan- 
 ners of the Kingdom which is infinite, so infinite 
 that it absorbs them, as the atmosphere does motes 
 and insects. 
 
 Yours with love, 
 
 Lucy Larcom. 
 
 September 13, 1891. Summit of Moosilauke. 
 I have been here three weeks yesterday, with rainy 
 or cloudy weather most of the time, and a few 
 days of perfect beauty. It has been warm weather, 
 never cold enough for winter clothing, but heavy 
 and damp sometimes. In every bright interval 
 I have been out, half a dozen times out in the 
 sunrise alone (one of the best things up here). 
 The sunrises in which the sun was not visible were
 
 LAST YEARS. 273 
 
 loveliest ; when the rays reached across from under 
 a cloud, and over the lower mists, to the distant 
 mountains in the south, penciling them with soft 
 rose and pearl tints. The finest sunrise was when 
 the sunbeams shone down from under a dark pui-- 
 ple cloud on a foamy sea of white mist that covered 
 the landscape, touching its upper surface with the 
 splendor we usually see from below. There was a 
 sunset the night before, with a similar effect, just 
 as a storm was rolling away. There has been less 
 variety in the phases of cloud-beauty than usual. 
 
 Yesterday was my best day of all. I walked 
 over to the East Peak, and looked down into the 
 great ravine, where the shadow of our mountain 
 was slowly ascending the opposite slopes. The 
 higher peaks behind shone in soft purple through 
 the rosy mist, and as I stopped at a crest half-way 
 to the Peak, they grew so beautiful in their lone- 
 liness, uplifted from sombre depths to luminous 
 height, and brought to my thoughts such heavenly- 
 human associations, of the great ones known and 
 unknown, who have glorified my life and uplifted 
 it into spiritual splendor, that my eyes were again 
 and again filled with warm, happy tears. God 
 has been very good to me in these latter years, in 
 bringing me to the mountains and giving me friends. 
 It is the utter loneliness that I sometimes have with 
 nature, up here, that makes the place so delightful 
 to me. The people are only incidental ; only now 
 and then one who loves the mountains in my way, 
 or in a better way, gives them a new attraction.
 
 274 LUCY LAIWOM. 
 
 The mountains are more human to me than any 
 other exhibition of inorganic nature ; they are in- 
 deed jDresences. There must be something like 
 them in heaven. 
 
 I go down to-morrow, to hotel-life for a week or 
 so, but the peace and strength of the hills will re- 
 main in my heart. 
 
 Beverly, October 17, 1891. These last three 
 weeks, — these last three days, especially, — have 
 been so full ! I have lived more in them, in the 
 very deepest part of my life, than in as many years, 
 often. 
 
 The consecration of a bishop whose ministry 
 has been more to my spiritual life than that of any 
 other minister ; the joy of knowing liim as a friend ; 
 the sorrow of losing him as a minister ; the thank- 
 fulness that I may be counted in as one of his peo- 
 ple still, to work in his larger field with him ; the 
 certainty that God has called him to do more than 
 ever for the coming of His Kingdom : it is a great 
 flood of regret and triumph that has been flowing 
 through me, and that fills me still. I am full of 
 tears and song ; I never felt life so real and so deep. 
 It is like setting sail on the grandest voyage of 
 hope, with a chosen spirit of God at the helm, and 
 all of us f idl of the inspiration of his life and faith. 
 
 I was glad to sit a little aside at the Consecration 
 Service, and feel more than I could see, though I 
 saw all the best of it, — that grand manhood in the 
 midst of white-robed clergy and bishops, one with 
 it all, and yet so superior to it all, the great humble
 
 LAST YEjLRS. 275 
 
 man, bowed among liis brethren, to receive his new- 
 office ! And I shall never forget my first glimpse 
 of him in his new character, with the Communion 
 cup in his hand, a token of service yet to be ren- 
 dered ; Christ's life still to be poured out for his 
 brethren through his own. 
 
 So may our lives all be enlarged and strength- 
 ened with his, to serve our Master better, in a 
 wider and deeper service of humankind ! 
 
 TO J. G. WHITTIER. 
 
 Bevekly, February 24, 1892. 
 
 . . . The thought of a present God, who is a 
 personal Friend to every Soul, has always haunted 
 me, and of late years has become more real and 
 close. It seems to me that all truth and peace and 
 hope centre there. It gives new meaning to immor- 
 tality, and to this life as the beginning of an im- 
 mortal one. Every year it seems a happier thing 
 to be alive, and to know that I cannot die. 
 
 Through thee, my friend, I have come to see this 
 very slowly. I have always thought of thee as a 
 spiritual teacher. And then of late years to have 
 had in addition the teachings and friendship of 
 Phillips Brooks has been a great and true help. I 
 thank God that you two men live, and "will always 
 live," as he says to you, and that I have known 
 you both. 
 
 When he called at Mrs. Spalding's after seeing 
 you, he told us about the Ary Scheffer poem, and 
 repeated it to us from the words " O heart of
 
 2T6 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 mine," through to the end, as he went away, stand- 
 ing before the picture, — " Christus Consolator," 
 which hangs at her parlor door. . . . 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 Beverly, Mass., July 10, 1892. 
 
 My dear Friend, — I heard of you last in 
 Danvers, but I am not sure whether you are there 
 or not, though I have been trying to get around 
 and see ! I have been occupied with various mat- 
 ters which have taken me to Boston frequently, 
 and I have usually stayed with Mrs. Guild, Rox- 
 bury. 
 
 ... I do not find myself so strong as usual this 
 year, and my plans for work may all fall through. 
 I think I never had so much that I wanted to do, 
 before. My last two little books have been so 
 widely and warmly welcomed, that it seems to me 
 as if I had only just learned what I can do. If I 
 had begun to write from what I feel most deeply 
 twenty years ago, I might have been of some real 
 help to the world. But then I had not had the 
 experience, and perhaps could not. 
 
 It makes me very thankful to know that you 
 approve my work. We have so often talked over 
 these matters together. I think the inspiration 
 must be partly, at least, from you. I know tliat 
 my one desire is for reality in the spiritual life, 
 for self and for others. . . . 
 
 Beverly, October 16, 1892. This summer has
 
 LAST YEARS. 277 
 
 brought me little time for writing, but much for 
 suffering aucl thinking. Three months ago to-day 
 my dear sister Emeline left this world ; suddenly, 
 — quietly, — just "slipped away," her daughter 
 Lucy says. She made herself ready for church, 
 and sat waiting, — but it was heaven for her, in- 
 stead. Her going makes more difference to me 
 than the departure of any one else could ; for she 
 has been part of my life ever since I was born. 
 She did more to shape my mind — my soul — than 
 any one else did. And yet I differed from her in 
 my way of thinking, upon many things ; the deep 
 agreement was underneath, at the spiritual founda- 
 tions. I think her great power over me was in 
 her great capacity for love. Her great heart, while 
 it was faithful to home ties, failed of love to none 
 of God's children ; and to me she was even more 
 mother than sister. Her going makes it an easier 
 thing for me to go, when the time comes. 
 
 Then, while on Moosilauke summit, the news of 
 Mr. Whittier's death came to me — more transla- 
 tion than death. I seemed to see him pass on by 
 me, up the heights, and seemed to hear him say, as 
 he passed, " So easy a thing it is to die ! Like the 
 mountain blending with the clouds, like the melt- 
 ing of earth into sky, is the transition from life 
 into loftier life." Pie too passed away in peace ; 
 the lovelier to think of, because he had always 
 dreaded the hour of death. He, too, was my noble 
 and tried friend ; in my life for more than fifty 
 years. He is associated in my life with the beauty
 
 278 LUCY LAECOM. 
 
 of the hills and the sea that we have enjoyed to. 
 g-ether, with the deep things of poetry and religion, 
 which were indeed one reality to him. The mem- 
 ory of fireside talks in his own home, with his 
 sister, so dear to us both ; the readings of " In 
 Memoriam " with him after she was gone, — are 
 most blessedly vivid to me. 
 
 And Tennyson has died, within a week ! One 
 could know him only through his poetry, but what 
 a halo that has hung over our mortal life in all its 
 phases ! To know the man and the poet, as I 
 knew Whittier, and to be able to feel the greatness 
 of both, is an immortal possession. 
 
 Emerson, Browning, Bryant, Whittier, Tenny- 
 son, — and where are the singers who take us into 
 the heart of things as they did ? There is a deli- 
 cate murmur of trained voices making music in 
 this modern air, but it does not arrest us and hold 
 us, as the voices of the now silent masters did. It 
 is hardly an age of song. 
 
 TO MBS. S. T. PICKARD. 
 
 Beverly, October 16, 1892. 
 ... I have dreamed of him [Mr.Whittier] lately, 
 sitting by the fireside chatting in the old way, as 
 when I used to visit him and Aunt Lizzie. She 
 was more to me than almost any friend, more even 
 than he. I always thought of them as one ; and 
 now they are together again. They cannot be far 
 away. I want to keep near them in spirit, so as 
 to find them at once, by and by. I am glad I did
 
 LAST YEARS. 279 
 
 not ever know that lie was rich. He used to want 
 to pay my bills when we were at West Ossipee, etc., 
 but I declined, for I supposed he was almost as 
 poor as myself, though I know of late years his 
 books have paid well. I am very glad he left me 
 the copyright of the books I compiled with him ; 
 and indeed it was only right, as I worked so hard 
 on them. The " Songs of Tln-ee Centuries " nearly 
 cost me my health ; the publishers " rushed " it so. 
 I was good for nothing for three or four years 
 after, as far as writing went. But he never knew. 
 
 TO S. T. PICKARD. 
 
 Beverly, Mass., November 11, 1892. 
 
 Dear Mr. Pickard, — The trouble with me 
 now is that I am on the Invalid list, and am warned 
 not to promise or undertake any new work at pres- 
 ent, nor to work continuously in the future, as I 
 have done. The heart seems to be the weak mem- 
 ber, and really stops me, even upon slight exertion. 
 I have meant to look over my letters from our 
 friend, and see if there was anything you could use ; 
 but they are packed away with others in a cold 
 room, where I do not venture to go. I have not 
 left the house for nearly four weeks, now, and I see 
 that some revolution in my way of living must be 
 made. But I hope to be stronger some time than I 
 am now, — at least to the extent of getting out into 
 the air. I am sorry not to be able to say that I 
 can be depended upon, though I v/ill gladly do 
 what I can to help you.
 
 280 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 It is unfortunate for me to be hindered by the 
 state of my health, as I had plans I wanted to set 
 about at once, of my own. It is imperative for me 
 to be earning money regularly, for an income, as 
 I have never quite accumulated it into the thou- 
 sands. My recent little books, for the past four 
 years, have been more profitable than before, and 
 I can see one or two more as possibilities, if I could 
 put myself down to the work. I mention all this 
 to show you how I am situated, as to doing what 
 you suggest. 
 
 Then there is one other thing, — Mr. Whittier 
 many times said to me, apparently in earnest and 
 jest, both, — " Don't thee ever go writing about 
 me ! " It used to hurt me a little, as if I would 
 parade his friendship for me in any way ! I could 
 not do, after he died, what I would not when he 
 was alive, — unless I knew he was willing, — and 
 he never hinted any wish of the kind, certainly. 
 I have already been asked to furnish " Recollec- 
 tions " for two periodicals, and have declined. I 
 may be over-particular in this matter, but I do 
 feel a delicacy about it, — ahnost as if I had not 
 the right. 
 
 I write just as the matter looks to me now, and 
 with the sincerest wish to honor our dear friend's 
 memory. Tell me your view of it ! 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 Lucy Larcom.
 
 LAST YEARS. 281 
 
 TO FRANKLIN CARTER. 
 
 214 Columbus Avenue, Boston, 
 January 10, 1893. 
 
 Dear Frank, — I have just finished reading 
 the life of Dr. Mark Hopkins, and think it a most 
 interesting record of a grand life. I thank you for 
 sending it to me. I could not help thinking, as 
 I read, how full our country is of noble men of 
 whom we know nothing, or very little, I knew 
 Dr. Hopkins was an able man, but he was only a 
 name to me until I read your book. But of course 
 he was a very unusual man. How grateful and 
 glad you must be that he was your teacher, and 
 that you could tell his story so well ! I have 
 known little of you, and you of me, for several 
 years. I have felt that the years of work could 
 not be many for me, and so I have been hard at 
 work writing, that I might give something to those 
 who could receive from me, before I died. 
 
 I do not know whether you have seen my little 
 books or not. I have published three in the last 
 two years. The two prose books I thought I had 
 a call to write, and the response they have received 
 has shown that I was not wholly wrong. 
 
 Perhaps I have given myself too closely to writ- 
 ing, for I am far from well. Careful medical ex- 
 amination shows that I have organic heart-disease, 
 which will need to be watched carefully in the 
 future ; I shall have to go slowly hereafter. Yet I 
 have many plans that 1 want to carry out ; and it is
 
 282 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 as necessary now as ever for me to earn my daily 
 bread. But I am not in the least bit anxious. 
 The kind of writing- I do, does not bring much 
 money, and I am not desirous of writing the kind 
 that does. 
 
 These later years have been happy ones to me, 
 because I have been doing things I like to do, and 
 have had noble and sympathetic friends. One of 
 my best friends — Whittier — is out of sight now, 
 but I do not feel that he is far away. Life is one, 
 in all the worlds, and it is life in God that unites 
 us all. God in Christ is the great uniting reality 
 to me. And yet I live so far from my ideal of what 
 it is ! How much more we should all be to each 
 other, if we believed it, through and through ! — 
 
 I cannot write, or do anything continuously, 
 without pain in my chest, so I desist, with love to 
 you and yours. 
 
 Faithfully ever, 
 
 Lucy Larcom. 
 
 TO MISS FOBES. 
 
 EoxBURV, Mass., March 14, 1893. 
 My dear Miss Fobes, — I did not think it 
 would be SO long before your kind letters would be 
 acknowledged, but the truth is that even a little 
 book, if one's heart is in the writing of it, is very 
 absorbing, — and mine has taken all my time. I 
 am reading the proof sheets of it now, and it will 
 be out early in April. (I am visiting a friend 
 here, for a week, trying to rest a rather tired head.)
 
 LAST YEARS. 283 
 
 These little books I liave somehow been impelled 
 to write, from the feeling that others might be 
 helped, by seeing the way I had been led, and the 
 point at which I had arrived. For I can but think 
 of these later years as having been most plainly to 
 myself under spiritual guidance. I prayed for it 
 always. I remember walking alone in the woods 
 behind Monticello Seminary, my heart asking with 
 tears that I might suffer much, if so I could find 
 the true secret of life. I have not suffered as 
 many have, — I have only had ordinary trials and 
 losses and matter-of-fact struggles with circum- 
 stances, but I have often been in danger of suc- 
 cumbing to lower standards than I believed in. 
 But it has been the one effort of my life to keep in 
 sight the highest and best, and to be satisfied with 
 nothing less. 
 
 Now the best seems to me the simplest : — to 
 receive, and to give by living it, the life of Christ. 
 That is the thought I have kept before me in my 
 little book, which I call "-The Unseen Friend." I 
 shall send you a cojDy, as soon as possible. 
 
 I am much interested in what you write of the 
 word "eternal." It was on the meaning of that 
 word that my first divergence from the Calvinistic 
 theories occurred, many years ago. I read F. D. 
 Maurice much, and still do so. His rendering of 
 the word " eternal " was, you know, considered 
 heresy in his own church. Now, the exception is, 
 in this region, to hear it preached in any other 
 sense. I think it first implies the character of the
 
 284 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 life, but also its duration. It is only the real 
 that can last, and grow better and better forever, 
 as being a progress into the infinite life of God. 
 It is death to refuse to receive this life ; I cannot 
 think that any soul will forever refuse, though the 
 freedom of the human will makes it a possibility. 
 
 I look upon this life on eartb as but a beginning, 
 rather an education than a probation — and yet 
 that also, as every hour of our life is a trial of our 
 fitness for the next hour. One thing I have liked 
 in the Episcopal Church since I knew it and have 
 been in it, is that they preach this practical, spirit- 
 ual life so much more than systems and doctrines. 
 The Christian year is a repeated following of the 
 story and the spirit of Christ's life, and everybody 
 can understand it. Nobody can hold the Apostles 
 Creed, and not believe in the oneness of the Son 
 and Father, and that is the pivotal truth of Chris- 
 tianity. More and more I see the failures in my 
 past life, through not entering into this central 
 truth in a more living way. 
 
 I thank you for the kind things you say of my 
 poems and books. There is no one whose approval 
 I value more deeply. Sometimes I wish I had 
 more years before me, for I feel as if I were just 
 beginning to see clearly, and I am more and more 
 interested in this human life of ours. Yet how 
 little any of us can do to relieve its burdens. How 
 hopeless its evils and sins sometime look ! 
 
 I have just read " David Grieve." It is far 
 from being a cheerful book, though powerfully
 
 LAST YEARS. 285 
 
 written. It is, however, an improvement upon 
 "Robert Elsmere," which seemed to me wordily 
 weak. 
 
 I have seen Emily Dickinson's poems, and enjoy 
 their queer gleaming and shadowy incoherences. 
 It does not seem as if her mind could have been 
 fairly balanced. But her love of nature redeems 
 many faults. 
 
 That poem in the " Christian Union," " The Im- 
 mortal Now," must have been printed early in the 
 year 1890, I think. Possibly in 1889, but I be- 
 lieve I wrote it in the winter of 1889-90. If I 
 can find a duplicate, I will send it to you. I have 
 a half-project of collecting my religious poems by 
 themselves, for next Christmas. What would you 
 think of it? 
 
 Always affectionately yours, 
 
 Lucy Larcom. 
 
 The following letter was written to Bishop 
 Brooks a few days before his death, and was found 
 on his desk, while his body still lay in his home, 
 the soul having gone to be " near the Master and 
 Friend." 
 
 TO PHILLIPS BROOKS. 
 
 214 Columbus Avenue, 
 January 17, 1893. 
 
 It is a real trial to me, my dear friend, that I 
 am unable to hear you to-night, when you are prob- 
 ably speaking so near me ; and yet a greater to 
 think that I may be denied it all winter. For I
 
 28G LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 find myself more ill tlian I supposed I was, and am 
 not at present permitted to go out at all. It is a 
 heart derangement, which has shown some danger- 
 ous symptoms. I have been to Trinity Church, but 
 am told that I must not attempt walking there 
 again. It seems childish to tell you about it, but 
 you know you are my rector still, — and I had 
 been looking forward to seeing and hearing you oc- 
 casionally. 
 
 Sometimes it seems to me that God's way of 
 dealing with me is not to let me see much of my 
 friends, those who are most to me in the spiritual 
 life, lest I should forget that the invisible bond is 
 the only reality. That is the only way I can recon- 
 cile myself to the inevitable separations of life and 
 death. I know that I feel more completely in sym- 
 pathy with those who went away from me into 
 heaven long ago than I did when they were here. 
 Still I love and long for my friends, and would 
 gladly see them while they are here, in the dear 
 familiar way. 
 
 I have accustomed myself to the thought that 
 my call hence may come suddenly, and if I should 
 not meet you again here, you will know that in 
 any world I shall look for you near the Master and 
 Friend in whose presence you live here, and whose 
 love you have helped me to see as the one thing 
 worth living for anywhere. I can truly say that 
 the last ten years of my life have been better and 
 happier than all that went before. 
 
 Faithfully yours, L. L.
 
 LAST YEARS. 287 
 
 February 20, 1893. A strange mingled expe- 
 rience the last three or four months. Weeks o£ ill- 
 ness in the late autumn in Beverly, when I sud- 
 denly was brought to the knowledge that I have 
 an incurable disease of the heart, which had been 
 aggravated by overwork and neglect. In the en- 
 forced quiet, I could only think, and that was not 
 permitted about disturbing things. Then, a little 
 recovered, I came to Boston just before Christmas, 
 and used my strength too rapidly, so that now I 
 have been in my room under the doctor's care, for 
 over a month. And since I have lain here, a great 
 calamity has befallen. The noblest of men and 
 friends has left the world, — Phillips Brooks. One 
 month ago this morning he breathed his last. He, 
 with whom it was impossible to associate the idea 
 of death ; — was ? — is so, still ! — the most living 
 man I ever knew — physically, mentally, spiritu- 
 ally. It is almost like taking the sun out of the 
 sky. He was such an illumination, such a warmth, 
 such an inspiration ! And he let us all come so 
 near him, — just as Christ does ! 
 
 I felt that I knew Christ personally through 
 him. He always spoke of Him as his dearest 
 friend, and he always lived in perfect, loving alle- 
 giance to God in Him. Now I know him as I know 
 Christ, — as a spirit only, and his sudden with- 
 drawal is only an ascension to Him, in the immor- 
 tal life. Shut into my sick-room, I have seen none 
 of the gloom of the burial ; I know him alive, with 
 Christ, from the dead, forevermore. Where he is,
 
 288 LUCY LARCOM. 
 
 life must be. He lived only in realities here, and 
 he is entering into the heart of them now. " What 
 a new splendor in heaven ! " was my first thought 
 of him, after one natural burst of sorrow. What 
 great services he has found ! How gloriously life, 
 with its immortal opportunities, must be opening 
 to him ! He, — one week here, — the next there, -— 
 and seen no more here again. The very sudden- 
 ness of his going makes the other life seem the real 
 one, rather than this. And a man like this is the 
 best proof God ever gives human beings of their 
 own immortality. 
 
 I treasure my last memories of him, the last ser 
 mon I heard him preach at Trinity, at the October 
 Communion; the last time I saw him there, just 
 before Christmas, and the last warm pressure of his 
 hand, and the sunlike smile as he spoke to me at 
 the church door ; the last note he wrote me when 
 he spoke of Mr. Whittier in the other life, with 
 such reverent love : " Think what — where — he is 
 now ! " — even as we are thinking of him. It seems 
 as if God gave me these last three years of intimate 
 friendship with him, in connection with the Church, 
 as the crowning spiritual blessing of my life. The 
 rest of it must be consecrated to the noblest ends, 
 like his. 
 
 In March and early April, 1893, Miss Larcom's 
 heart-trouble was rapidly developing into an alarm- 
 ing condition, and she realized that the end must 
 soon come. Her life had reached its climax in the
 
 LAST YEARS. 289 
 
 little book, " The Unseen Friend," in which she had 
 written her last and greatest religious message to 
 the world. More of her friends were on the " other 
 side " than here, and her eyes eagerly sought the 
 visions beyond. 
 
 Her old pupils and friends remembered her dur= 
 ing those weary days of suffering in the Hoffman 
 House, Boston. Her beloved niece, Miss Lucy 
 Larcom Spaulding (now Mrs. Clark) was with her 
 constantly, ministeinng to her needs. Some sent 
 her flowers, which she loved so dearly; others, 
 fruit ; one desired to send from the West a luxuri- 
 ous bed ; and one sent a reclining-chair. The old 
 cook, Norah, at Norton, asked the privilege of 
 making graham bread for her. Her old scholars 
 remembered her more substantially, by a loving 
 gift, in those days when her pen was forced into 
 idleness. She painfully felt the restraints of her 
 illness. Her nights were full of distress. In a 
 half-amused way, she said, " I never knew what it 
 was to be really sick. I knew people had to stay 
 in bed, and have the doctor, but I thought they 
 slept at night." 
 
 The end drew near. On Saturday evening, 
 April the fifteenth, she said it would be a great joy 
 to exchange the physical for the spiritual body; 
 and she was comforted by reading Bishop Brooks's 
 addresses, " Perfect Freedom." 
 
 On Monday, April the seventeenth, she grew 
 rapidly worse ; and in her unconsciousness, she fre- 
 quently murmured in prayer, the word " Freedom."
 
 290 LUCY LABCOM. 
 
 Ou this day her soul was released, and she entered 
 into the fullness of the Glory of God. 
 
 On a little slip of paper she had written these 
 last words : — 
 
 " O Mariner-soul, 
 
 Thy quest is but begun, 
 There are new worlds 
 Forever to be won." 
 
 She was borne lovingly to Trinity Church, where 
 she had worshiped ; and there, in the presence of 
 her sorrowing friends, the service was held. There 
 was also a service in St. Peter's Church, Beverly, 
 where her fellow-townsmen gathered to do her this 
 last honor. She was laid to rest in the soil of her 
 native town, within sight and sound of the sea.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Abraham, Mount, 72. 
 
 Adirondacks, 237. 
 
 Advertiser, Boston Daily, 182. 
 
 Alden, John, 97. 
 
 Aldrich, T. B., 84. 
 
 Alps, 84, 122, 168. 
 
 " American Women of Note," 239. 
 
 Amesbury, 98, 134, 146, 170. 
 
 Anderson, Hans, 176. 
 
 Andover, 145, 219. 
 
 Andrew, Governor, 111. 
 
 Androscoggin, 227. 
 
 Anglo-Saxon Poetry, 49. 
 
 Annapolis, 224. 
 
 Appledore, 16G. 
 
 Appleton, Nathan, 7. 
 
 Arnold, Matthew, 191. 
 
 Arthur, Prince, 131. 
 
 Asquam, Lake, 229. 
 
 Atlantic Monthly, 153, 189, 239. 
 
 " At Her Bedside," 199. 
 
 Attleboro', 122. 
 
 " At the Beautiful Gate," 173, 187. 
 
 Bacon, Francis, 91. 
 
 Baker, Mrs. I. W., 32; letter to, 38; 
 
 living with, 44. 
 Barrett, Lois, 1. 
 Bass River, 2. 
 Beaufort, S. C, 112. 
 Berkshire Hills, 237. 
 Berlin Falls, 188, 227. 
 Bermuda, 182. 
 Bethel, 224, 227. 
 Bethlehem, 227, 230. 
 Betsy's, Aunt, cucumbers, 32. 
 Beverly, 1, 2 ; life in, 43-46, 74, 113, 
 
 115, 133, 144, 153, 1.56, 170 ; division 
 
 of, 246 ; love for, 252. 
 Beverly Farms, 1. 
 Blanchard, Dr. Amos, 13. 
 Blue, Mount, 42. 
 Bonnechose, de. 118. 
 Boston, 123, 125, 156, 172, 246 ; troops 
 
 in, 89; Harbor, 115. 
 Boston Journal, 36. 
 Bradford Academy, 172. 
 Bradford, England, 190. 
 " Breathings of the Better Life," 159. 
 
 Brooks, Rev. Phillips, 185, 207, 209, 
 225, 248, 252, 275 ; letter on preacli- 
 ing, 185 ; friendship for Lucy Lar- 
 com, 186 ; letter on Lord's Supper, 
 186 ; preaching of, 207 ; preaches on 
 " Old Year," 211 ; preaches about 
 Heaven, 214 ; letter about church- 
 membership, 220 ; letter about "The 
 Little Town of Bethlehem," 232; 
 letter, 241 ; invites all to Commu- 
 nion, 244 ; letter, 250 ; at Wheaton, 
 265 ; elected Bishop, 268 ; Consecra- 
 tion of, 274 ; death of, 285. 
 
 Brown, J. Appleton, 183. 
 
 Brown of Ossawatomie, 81. 
 
 Browning, ISO, 278. 
 
 Browning, Mrs., 159. 
 
 Bushnell, Horace, 159. 
 
 Campton, 99, 152. 
 
 Cape Ann, 166, 180. 
 
 Carlyle, 70. 
 
 Carter, Franklin, 153, 237 ; letters to, 
 205, 281. 
 
 Gary Sisters, The, 196. 
 
 Centre Harbor, 227, 230. 
 
 Chadwick, Rev. J. W., 174. 
 
 Chasles, Philarete, 11. 
 
 Chaucer's Daisies, 167. 
 
 Childs, G. W., 234, 236. 
 
 Childs, Mrs., 118. 
 
 Childhood Songs, 3, 176, 177. 
 
 Child-Life, 3, 176, 177. 
 
 Christian Union, 233, 285. 
 
 Clougb, Arthur, 258. 
 
 Coleridge, 5, 54. 
 
 Congregational Church, 55, 190, 201, 
 207, 242 ; administration of Com- 
 munion in, 245. 
 
 Congregationalist, The, 233. 
 
 Contrabands, 154. 
 
 Conybeare, and Howson, Life of St. 
 Paul, 116. 
 
 Cook, Mrs., 196. 
 
 Corinth, 144. 
 
 Cottage Hearth, The, 233. 
 
 Cousin, 70. 
 
 Crayon, The, 63. 
 
 Crosweil, Dr., poems, 81.
 
 292 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Curtiss, Hariot, 10. 
 Cushman, Miss, 149. 
 
 Davis, Jepp, 102 ; capture of, 157. 
 
 Dickens, Charles, 8. 
 
 Dickinson, Emily, 285. 
 
 Digby, 224. 
 
 District of Columbia, slavery in, 139. 
 
 Dodge, Mrs. Mary Mapes, 177-178- 
 
 Donelson, Fort, 124. 
 
 Durand, John, 65 ; letter to, 66. 
 
 Easter Gleams, 187. 
 Elizabeth, Queen, 93. 
 Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 125, 178, 278 ; 
 
 " Parnassus," l.SG. 
 England, 117, 190 ; against slavery, 
 
 110. 
 Episcopal Church, 11, 81, 187, 207, 
 
 209, 220, 243, 249, 284 ; criticism of, 
 
 254-256 ; little side of, 272. 
 Essex County, 1, 193. 
 Evangeline, 223. 
 
 Farley, Hariett, 10. 
 
 Farrar, Canon, 226. 
 
 Fichte, 128. 
 
 Fields, James T., letter to, 148, 153, 
 
 159. 
 Fields, Mrs. James T., 149 ; letters to, 
 
 155, 160, 163, 178 ; books loaned by, 
 
 156. 
 Fitch, Mrs., 224. 
 Florida, 130. 
 
 Fobes,Miss P., 38; letters to,46, 47, 282. 
 Forrester, Fanny, 175. 
 Fox, George, journal of, 97, 106. 
 Frauconia Notch, 100, 151. 
 Freeman, Miss, 247. 
 Fremont, 111. 
 French Acadians, 224. 
 
 Gannett's, Dr., school, 172. 
 
 Gardiner, Maine, 71. 
 
 Garfield, Mrs., 210. 
 
 Garfield, President, 191 ; assassination 
 
 of, 210. 
 Garrison, W. L., 14. 
 Gaspereau, 223. 
 Gethsemane, 137. 
 Gibbon, 118. 
 Godfrey, Captain B., 37. 
 " Golden-Rod," 191. 
 Gordon, Rev. Mr., 267. 
 Grand Pri5, 223. 
 Great Britain, 166. 
 Greenough, Mrs., 186. 
 Greenwood, Grace, 175. 
 Guild, Mrs., 236, 276. 
 Gulliver's Travels, 5. 
 Guyon, Madame, 159. 
 
 " Hail Columbia," 139. 
 Halifax, 224. 
 
 Hamilton, Gail, 157. 
 
 Hammond, Wiscoiitiin, 155. 
 
 " Hand in Hand with Angels," 173. 
 
 Hannah, Aunt, 4. 
 
 " Hannah Binding Shoes," 63, 173, 
 179 ; set to music, 65. 
 
 Hare's "Mission of the Comforter," 
 54. 
 
 Harper's Magazine, 183, 233. 
 
 HaskeU, Mrs. Abby O., 29 ; letter to, 
 42. 
 
 Hatteras, Fort, 102. 
 
 Hawthorne's " Little Annie's Ram- 
 ble," 17G. 
 
 " Heart of God," The, 189. 
 
 Hegel, 128. 
 
 Herbert, George, 79, 159. 
 
 Higginson, Mr., 197. 
 
 " Hilary," 153, 173. 
 
 Hindoo, 112. 
 
 Hopkins, Dr. Mirk, 281. 
 
 Horder, Rev. W. Garrett, 190, 196. 
 
 Horticultural Association, 152. 
 
 Howells, W. D., 189, 230. 
 
 Huraiston, Esther S., 54, 103, 135; 
 letters to, 54, 75 ; dying, 91 ; death, 
 92; grave of, 136; letters of, 138; 
 mother of, 142, 152. 
 
 Hunter, Dr. John, 197. 
 
 " Idyl op Work," 179, 190. 
 
 " Immortal Now," The, 285. 
 
 Independent, The, 233. 
 
 Ingelow, Jean, 174 ; letter to, 165. 
 
 Ipswich, 1 ; Academy of, 172. 
 
 Isles of Shoals, 166. 
 
 Italy, S3, 108. 
 
 Jackson, H. H., 196. 
 Jameson's, Mrs., " Legends of the 
 Madonna," 79. 
 
 Kant, 128. 
 Keble, 209, 215. 
 Kennebec River, 74. 
 Keoppen, 83. 
 
 Knickerbocker, The, 63 ; letter to, 
 04. 
 
 Lamb's " Dream Children," 176. 
 
 Larcom, Mrs., G, 262 ; boarding-house 
 of, 8 ; death of, 171. 
 
 Larcom, Benjamin, 1. 
 
 Larcom, Cornelias, 1. 
 
 Larcom, David, 1. 
 
 Larcom, Jonathan, 1. 
 
 Larcom, Lucy, birth, 1 ; at school, 4 ; 
 love for hymns, 5 ; books she read, 
 9 ; writes for manuscript papers, 9 ; 
 working in Lowell mills, 11 ; early 
 religious ideas, 12 ; signs petition to 
 Congress, 14 ; meets Mr. Whittier, 
 15 ; book-keeper in Lawrence Mills, 
 15 ; writing in prose sketch-book,
 
 INDEX. 
 
 293 
 
 16 ; writing poetry, IT ; goes to 
 Illinois, 18 ; diary of journey, 21-27 ; 
 in M.iryland, 23 ; At Pittsburg, 25 ; 
 at St. Louis, 2G ; lives ou Looking- 
 glass Prairie, 27 ; hardships in 
 school-teaching, 28 ; letters to sis- 
 ters, Abby and Lydia, 29 ; examined 
 for position as teacher, 31 ; sick 
 with " agey," 33 ; enters Monticello, 
 38 ; life at Monticello, 39-43 ; de- 
 bating society, 40 ; compositions, 
 41 ; engagement, 43 ; teaching in 
 Beverly, 44-4G ; enters Wheaton 
 Seminary, 4G-47 -, room at Norton, 
 48 ; lore for flowers, 48 ; knitting 
 stockings for soldiers, 49 -, power as 
 a teacher, 49-53 ; lecture ou Anglo- 
 Saxon Poetry, 49 ; lecture on com- 
 positions, 50 ; in tlie class-room, 50 ; 
 founding t!ie " Rushlight," and 
 Psyolie Literary Society, 50-51 ; 
 called " Mother Larcom," 51 ; letter 
 on deatli, 52 ; girPs love affairs, 52; 
 scholar's love for her, 52; friend- 
 ship for Miss Homiston, 54-57 ; ideas 
 about churcli-membership, and doc- 
 trines, 55-57 ; leaves Norton, 57 ; 
 reasons for not marrying, 57-59; 
 publishes "Similitudes," Gl ; wins 
 Kansas prize song, 62 ; publishes 
 Lottie's Tliought-book, C2 ; prints 
 "Hannah Binding Shoes," 63; 
 writes to New York Tribune, 64 ; let- 
 ter to John Duraud, 65 ; unsuccessful 
 attempt to print a volume of verse, 
 66; submits verses to Mr. Whittier 
 for criticism, 68 ; diary, 69-147 ; 
 thoughts on nij'stics, 70 ; thoughts 
 on " T?he Sabbatli," 74 ; reasons for 
 keeping a diary, 70 ; remarks on 
 ministers, 7(>-77 ; reads " Wilhelm 
 Meister,"78; depression of spirits, 
 84 ; thoughts on eternal life and 
 death, 85 ; gifts on her birthday, 86 ; 
 unpleasant sermon on Satan, 88 ; 
 remarks on friendship, 93 ; visits 
 the Webster plnce, 9<') ; visits Ply- 
 mouth, 96 ; visits the Wliittiers,-98 ; 
 love for mountains, 100; on the 
 Rebellion, 101 ; concerning her 
 diary, 103 ; concerning gos.sip, 110 ; 
 on child's knowledge of the Bible, 
 120 ; sleigh-ride to Attlehoro', 122 ; 
 on Sarah Palne's deatli, 123 ; lienrs 
 Emerson, 125; education of nieces, 
 127 ; religions talks witli scholars, 
 120; introspection, 132; tlioughts 
 on the resurrection, 133 ; love for 
 the Whittieni, 135; singing around 
 
 Liberty Pole, 139 ; prays for C , 
 
 140; skeptical, 141; school trials, 
 
 141; deatli of C , 144; visits 
 
 Andorer, 145 ; letter to Mr. Field.s, 
 enclosing poem, 149 ; letter to 
 
 Whittier about Hie mountains, 150; 
 gives up teaching at Wheaton, 152 ; 
 home in Waterbury, 152 ; writes for 
 the Atlantic, 153 ; letter about death 
 of her sister Louisa, 155 ; edits 
 " Our Young Folks," 157 ; publishes 
 "Breatliings of the Better Life," 
 159 ; letters to Mrs. James T. Fields, 
 1.59-163; letter to Mrs. Thaxter, 
 163 ; letter to Miss Ingelow, 165 ; 
 letter to Mr. Whittier about her 
 mother's illness, 170 ; publislies 
 " Poems," 173; name of, 175 ; work 
 with Mr. Whittier, 175 ; letters to 
 Mrs. Dodge, 177; publishes "An 
 Idyl of Work," 179 ; prints " Road- 
 side Poems," 180 ; letter on Romans, 
 181 ; visits Bermuda, 182 ; prints 
 "Landscai>e in American Poetry,''' 
 183; letter to Mrs. Wheaton, 183; 
 present at breakfast to Dr. Holmes, 
 1S4 ; first meeting witli Phillips 
 Brooks, 185 ; prints " Wild Roses of 
 Cape Ann," 187; letter to Mn 
 Pickard, 188 ; criticism of her 
 poetry, 189-198; letter to Dr. 
 Hunter, 197 ; religious changes, 200; 
 letter to Franklin Carter, 205 ; learns 
 to know the Episcopal Chuicli, 
 107-120 ; opinion of faith-cure, 212 ; 
 reads Renau, 216 ; letter from Nova 
 Scotia, 223 ; letter to Phillips 
 Brooks, 225; summer homes of, 227; 
 on Tlie3soi>liy, 231 ; conversation 
 with Mr. Whittier about finances, 
 233; visits President Carter, 2.37; 
 prints " A New England Girlhood," 
 238 ; communes at Trinity Churcli, 
 244 ; confirmed, 252 ; converses witli 
 Mr. Brooks, 269-270; iHness of, 
 280-281 ; letter to Miss Fobes, 282 ; 
 last letter to Phillips Brooks, 285; 
 on the death of Mr. Brooks, 287; 
 death of, 289 ; burial of, 290. 
 
 Larcom, Mordecai, 1. 
 
 Lavater, 119. 
 
 Lawrence Mills, 15. 
 
 Lazarus, Enuna, 259. 
 ! Lebanon, 31. 
 
 Lee, surrender of, 156. 
 
 Leigh, Miss, 247. 
 
 Liberty Pole, 139. 
 
 Lincoln, Abraham, 191 ; assassination 
 of, 1.56. 
 
 Longfellow, H. W., 80, 166, 179, 180, 
 I 196 ; letter to Miss Larcom, 198 ; 
 death of, 220. 
 
 Longfellow, Rev. Samuel, 65. 
 
 Lowell, mills in, 6 ; lyceum of, 8 ; 
 poem on, 179 ; article in Atlantic 
 Monthly on, 239. 
 
 Lowell, Francis Cabot, 7. 
 
 Lowell, J. K., ISO. 
 . Lowell, Maria, 196.
 
 294 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Lowell Offering, 10. 
 
 " Loyal Woman's No," 58, 153. 
 
 Maine, 226. 
 
 Mainteuon, Madame de, 93. 
 
 Manassas, 130. 
 
 Mansel, Dean, 75. 
 
 Martineau, Dr., 196. 
 
 Mason and Slidell, 115. 
 
 Maurice, 70, 75, 70, 209, 294, 293, 265. 
 
 Maury's Physical Geography, 91. 
 
 Melrose, 219. 
 
 Memphis, 144. 
 
 Merrimae, 99, 101, 130, 139; sinking 
 
 of, 154. 
 Middlesex Standard, 15. 
 Milton, 194, 259. 
 Milton Hills, 109. 
 Mississippi, 1G7. 
 Missouri, 124. 
 " Monitor," 130. 
 
 Monticello, 238, 283 ; prospectus of, 37. 
 Moosilauke, 227, 263, 272, 277. 
 Morris' Poexns, 75. 
 Moultrie, Fort, 81. 
 Miiller, Max, 210. 
 " My Mountain," 192. 
 Myrtle, Minnie, 175. 
 
 Neandeb's " History of the Church," 
 
 116, 118, 218. 
 Neck-woods, 123. 
 Newburyport, 179. 
 New England Emigrant Aid Co., 62. 
 " New England Girlhood," 2, 238, 250. 
 New Hampshire, 105, 168, 226. 
 New York Tribune, The, 63, 64. 
 Norfolk, 130, 139. 
 North Carolina, 124. 
 Norton, Mass., 53, 57, 105, 115, 153, 
 
 172, 183. 
 Notch Mountains, 151, 168, 227. 
 Nova Scotia, 224. 
 
 Olivet, 137. 
 
 " On the Beach," 191. 
 
 Operatives' Magazine, 10. 
 
 Osgood & Co., 179. 
 
 Ossipee Park, 227, 230, 279. 
 
 "Our Christ," 190. 
 
 Our Young Folks, 3, 157, 172, 176. 
 
 Paine, Sarah, 123. 
 Park, Professor, 145. 
 Parker, Theodore, 71. 
 Passion Week, 243, 266. 
 Paula, 93. 
 Pembroke, 98. 
 Pemigewasset, 99, 168. 
 Pilgrims, 80, 165, 167. 
 Pilgrim's Progress, 5. 
 Pitman, Harriet, 171, 178. 
 " Pliebe," 189. 
 Phelps, Prof., 145. 
 
 Pliillips, Adelaide, 65. 
 
 Plato, 119, 297, 236; reading, 54; 
 
 teaching, 118. 
 Plymouth, 96. 
 "Poems," 173, 174. 
 Portland Trauscrii)t, 227. 
 Potomac, 111. 
 Prairie sleigh-ride, A, 36. 
 Psyche Literary Society, 50. 
 Puritans, 107, 113, 201, 150. 
 
 Quaker, 97, 135 ; worship of, 98 ; con. 
 
 trast witli Puritan, 107. 
 Quaker Home, 234. 
 
 Readviile, 109. 
 
 Renan, 216. 
 
 Ricliter, Jean Paul, 16. 
 
 " Roadside Poems," 180. 
 
 Robertson, F. W., 138, 159, 160, 203, 
 
 209, 266. 
 " Rose Entlironed," The, 154, 192. 
 Rossetti, W. M.. 197. 
 Ruslilight, The, 50. 
 Ruskin, 75. 
 Russell, John, 227. 
 
 " Sabbath Bells," 15. 
 
 Saddle-back, 72. 
 
 Schelling, 128. 
 
 Scott, Sir Walter, 5. 
 
 Sears' " Foregleams and Foreshad- 
 ows," 54. 
 
 Shakespeare, 118, 149, 194. 
 
 " Shared," 189. 
 
 Shelley, 180. 
 
 "Similitudes," 61. 
 
 "Skipper Ben," 65, 173. 
 
 Smitli, John Cotton, 215. 
 
 Spalding, Mrs. S. I., 179, 230; letters 
 to, 181, 187, 193, 240, 250, 271. 
 
 Spaulding, George, 33, 36. 
 
 Spaulding, Lucy Larcom, 289. 
 
 Spenser, 5, 191. 
 
 Socrates, 217. 
 
 Solis-Cohen, Dr. S., 260. 
 
 " Songs of Three Centuries," 259, 279. 
 
 South Carolina, 81. 
 
 Southey, 5. 
 
 St. Ann's Church, Lowell, 14, 207. 
 
 St. Nicliolas, 3, 157, 177, 178, 233. 
 
 St. Peter's Churcli, Beverly, 290. 
 
 Standish, Miles, 97. 
 
 Stanley, Aunt, 4. 
 
 Stedman, Mr., 93. 
 
 Stephen, Sir James, 118. 
 
 Stone, Dr., 215. 
 
 Stone, Lucy, 46. 
 
 Stowe, Harriet Beecher, 14& 
 
 Stowe, Prof., 145. 
 
 Sumatra, 133. 
 
 Sumner, Charles, 108. 
 
 Swedenborg, 54, 119. 
 
 Switzerland, 168.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 295 
 
 Tauler's Sermons, 54. 
 
 Tauuton, 90. 
 
 Tennyson, 278. 
 
 Thanksgiving, A, 174, 194. 
 
 Thaxter, Mrs. Celia, 1G3. 
 
 Thayer, Prof., 178. 
 
 "The Chamber Called Peace," 173. 
 
 Tholuck, 159. 
 
 Thomas, Rev. Abel C, 10. 
 
 Thorndike, Colonel, 2. 
 
 Trinity Church, 207, 226, 252; free 
 seats in, 208; services at, 209 ; pass- 
 ing of old year at, 211. 
 
 Trowbridge, 157. 
 
 Unitaeianism, 112, 215. 
 Universalists, 56. 
 Unseen Friend, The, 283. 
 "Unwedded,"59. 
 
 Vincent, Henby, 179. 
 
 Walker's Rhyming Dictionary, 18. 
 
 Wallace Lane, 2. 
 
 Wallis, Becky, 32. 
 
 Ward, Susan Hayes, 238 ; letters to, 
 
 53, 222. 
 Waterbury, Conn., 54, 152. 
 Waterville, 100. 
 Webster, Daniel, 96. 
 Wellesley College, 247. 
 Wheaton, Judge, 46. 
 Wheaton, Mrs. E. B., 183. 
 Wheaton Seminary, 46, 152, 172, 238, 
 
 2C5. 
 
 White Face, 192. 
 
 White Mountains, 168. 
 
 White, Richard Grant, 197. 
 
 White, Sunday, A, 174. 
 
 Whitney, Mrs. A. D. T., 184, 239. 
 
 Whittier, Elizabeth, 15, 67, 80, 98, 137, 
 151, 154, 191. 
 
 Whittier, John G., 66, 98, 131, 163, 
 179, 185, 232 ; first meeting with 
 Miss Larcom, 15 ; friendship for 
 Miss Larcom, 66 ; letter to Lucy 
 Larcom, 07; "Home Ballads," 80 ; 
 " Panorama," SO ; letters to, 150, 
 170, 180, 223, 230, 275, 276 ; rhymed 
 note of, 161 ; at Isies of Shoals, 166 ; 
 collaboration vvitli Miss Larcom, 
 175 ; letter to Lucy Larcom, 176 ; 
 criticism of her poetry, 193 ; letter 
 to O. W. Holmes, 198 ; visit of, 218 ; 
 poem, "Wood-Giant," 230; on 
 Bishop Brooks, 271 ; death of, 277. 
 
 Wide Awake, 233. 
 
 Wilberforce, Canon, 247. 
 
 "Wild Roses of Cape Ann," 187, 
 188. 
 
 Williams College, 153, 205. 
 
 Williauibtown, 237. 
 
 Winnipiseogee, 98, 168. 
 
 Winter, William, 185. 
 
 Wolfboro', 229. 
 
 Woodberry, George E., 257, 258. 
 
 Year in Heaven, A, 173* 
 Youth's Companion, 3.
 
 ^7 ) 8 DATE DUE 
 
 
 
 
 
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